by John Dryden
Were I the Inventor, who am only the Historian, I shoud certainly conclude the Piece, with the Reconcilement of Absalom to David. And, who knows but this may come to pass? Things were not brought to an Extremity where I left the Story: There seems yet to be room left for a Composure; hereafter, there may only be for Pity. I have not so much as an uncharitable Wish against Achitophel, but am content to be Accus’d of a good natur’d Errour; and to hope with Origen, that the Devil himself may, at last, be sav’d. For which reason, in this Poem, he is neither brought to set his House in order, nor to dispose of his Person afterwards, as he in wisdom shall think fit. God is infinitely merciful; and his Vicegerent is only not so, because he is not Infinite.
The true end of Satyre is the amendment of Vices by correction. And he who writes Honestly, is no more an Enemy to the Offender than the Physician to the Patient, when he prescribes harsh Remedies to an inveterate Disease: for those, are only in order to prevent the Chyrurgeon’s work of an Ense rescindendum, which I wish not to my very Enemies. To conclude all, If the Body Politique have any Analogy to the Natural, in my weak judgment, an Act of Oblivion were as necessary in a Hot, Distempered State, as an Opiate woud be in a Raging Fever.
Absalom and Achitophel: The First Part
A POEM.
IN pious times, e’r Priest-craft did begin,
Before Polygamy was made a Sin;
When Man on many multipli’d his kind,
E’r one to one was cursedly confin’d,
When Nature prompted and no Law deni’d 5
Promiscuous Use of Concubine and Bride;
Then Israel’s Monarch, after Heavens own heart,
His vigorous warmth did, variously, impart
To Wives and Slaves: And, wide as his Command,
Scatter’d his Maker’s Image through the Land. 10
Michal, of Royal Blood, the Crown did wear,
A soil ungrateful to the Tiller’s care:
Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore
To God-like David several sons before.
But since like Slaves his Bed they did ascend, 15
No True Succession could their Seed attend.
Of all this Numerous Progeny was none
So Beautiful so Brave as Absalon:
Whether, inspird by some diviner Lust,
His father got him with a greater Gust, 20
Or that his Conscious Destiny made way
By manly Beauty to Imperial Sway.
Early in Foreign Fields he won Renown
With Kings and States allied to Israel’s Crown:
In Peace the thoughts of War he coud remove 25
And seem’d as he were onely born for Love.
What e’r he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone, ’twas Natural to please;
His motions all accompanied with grace;
And Paradise was open’d in his face. 30
With secret Joy, indulgent David view’d
His Youthful Image in his Son renew’d;
To all his wishes Nothing he deni’d
And made the Charming Annabel his Bride.
What faults he had (for who from faults is free?) 35
His father coud not or he woud not see.
Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,
Were constru’d Youth that purg’d by boiling o’r:
And Amnon’s Murther, by a specious Name,
Was call’d a Just Revenge for injur’d Fame. 40
Thus Prais’d and Lov’d, the Noble Youth remain’d,
While David, undisturb’d, in Sion reign’d.
But Life can never be sincerely blest:
Heav’n punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murm’ring race 45
As ever tri’d th’ extent and stretch of grace;
God’s pamper’d People, whom, debauch’d with ease,
No King could govern nor no God could please;
(Gods they had tri’d of every shape and size
That God-smiths could produce or Priests devise:) 50
These Adam-wits, too fortunately free,
Began to dream they wanted liberty;
And when no rule, no president was found
Of men, by Laws less circumscrib’d and bound;
They led their wild desires to Woods and Caves; 55
And thought that all but Savages were Slaves.
They who, when Saul was dead, without a blow
Made foolish Ishbosheth the Crown forgo;
Who banisht David did from Hebron bring,
And, with a General shout, proclaim’d him King: 60
Those very Jews who at their very best
Their Humour more than Loyalty exprest,
Now wondred why so long they had obey’d
An Idol-Monarch which their hands had made;
Thought they might ruine him they could create 65
Or melt him to that Golden Calf, a State.
But these were random Bolts: No form’d Design
Nor Interest made the Factious Croud to join:
The sober part of Israel, free from stain,
Well knew the value of a peaceful reign; 70
And, looking backward with a wise afright,
Saw Seams of wounds, dishonest to the sight:
In contemplation of whose ugly Scars,
They curst the memory of Civil Wars.
The moderate sort of Men, thus qualifi’d, 75
Inclin’d the Ballance to the better side;
And David’s mildness manag’d it so well,
The bad found no occasion to Rebel.
But, when to Sin our byast Nature leans,
The careful Devil is still at hand with means; 80
And providently Pimps for ill desires:
The Good Old Cause, reviv’d, a Plot requires,
Plots, true or false, are necessary things,
To raise up Common-wealths and ruin Kings.
Th’ inhabitants of old Jerusalem, 85
Were Jebusites; the Town so call’d from them;
And their’s the Native right ——
But when the chosen People grew more strong,
The rightful cause at length became the wrong;
And every loss the men of Jebus bore, 90
They still were thought God’s enemies the more.
Thus, worn and weaken’d, well or ill content,
Submit they must to David’s Government:
Impoverish’t and depriv’d of all Command,
Their Taxes doubled as they lost their Land; 95
And, what was harder yet to flesh and blood,
Their Gods disgrac’d, and burnt like common Wood.
This set the Heathen Priesthood in a flame,
For Priests of all Religions are the same:
Of whatsoe’er descent their Godhead be, 100
Stock, Stone, or other homely Pedigree,
In his defence his Servants are as bold,
As if he had been born of beaten Gold.
The Jewish Rabbins, though their Enemies,
In this conclude them honest men and wise: 105
For ’twas their duty, all the Learned think,
T’ espouse his Cause by whom they eat and drink.
From hence began that Plot, the Nations Curse,
Bad in itself, but represented worse,
Rais’d in extremes, and in extremes decri’d, 110
With Oaths affirm’d, with dying Vows deni’d,
Not weigh’d or winnow’d by the Multitude,
But swallow’d in the Mass, unchewed and crude.
Some Truth there was, but dashed and brew’d with Lies;
To please the Fools, and puzzle all the Wise. 115
Succeeding Times did equal Folly call
Believing nothing or believing all
The Egyptian Rites the Jebusites embrac’d,
Where Gods were recommended by their taste.
Such sav�
��ry Deities must needs be good 120
As serv’d at once for Worship and for Food.
By force they could not Introduce these Gods,
For Ten to One in former days was odds.
So Fraud was us’d, (the Sacrificers Trade,)
Fools are more hard to Conquer than Persuade. 125
Their busie Teachers mingled with the Jews
And rak’d for Converts even the Court and Stews:
Which Hebrew Priests the more unkindly took,
Because the Fleece accompanies the Flock.
Some thought they God’s Anointed meant to slay 130
By Guns, invented since full many a day:
Our Author swears it not; but who can know
How far the Devil and Jebusites may go?
This Plot, which fail’d for want of common Sense,
Had yet a deep and dangerous Consequence; 135
For as, when raging Fevers boil the Blood
The standing Lake soon floats into a Floud;
And ev’ry hostile Humour which before
Slept quiet in its Channels bubbles o’re:
So, several Factions from this first Ferment 140
Work up to Foam, and threat the Government.
Some by their Friends, more by themselves thought wise,
Oppos’d the Pow’r to which they could not rise.
Some had in Courts been Great and, thrown from thence,
Like Fiends were hardened in Impenitence. 145
Some, by their Monarch’s fatal mercy grown,
From Pardon’d Rebels, Kinsmen to the Throne
Were raised in Pow’r and Publick Office high;
Strong Bands, if Bands ungrateful men coud tie.
Of these the false Achitophel was first, 150
A Name to all succeeding Ages curst.
For close Designs and crooked Counsels fit,
Sagacious, Bold, and Turbulent of wit,
Restless, unfixt in Principles and Place,
In Pow’r unpleased, impatient of Disgrace; 155
A fiery Soul, which working out its way,
Fretted the Pigmy Body to decay:
And o’r informed the Tenement of Clay.
A daring Pilot in extremity;
Pleas’d with the Danger, when the Waves went high 160
He sought the Storms; but, for a Calm unfit,
Would Steer too nigh the Sands to boast his Wit.
Great Wits are sure to Madness near alli’d
And thin Partitions do their Bounds divide;
Else, why should he, with Wealth and Honour blest, 165
Refuse his Age the needful hours of Rest?
Punish a Body which he coud not please,
Bankrupt of Life, yet Prodigal of Ease?
And all to leave what with his Toil he won
To that unfeather’d two-legg’d thing, a Son: 170
Got, while his Soul did huddled Notions trie;
And born a shapeless Lump, like Anarchy.
In Friendship false, implacable in Hate,
Resolv’d to Ruine or to Rule the State;
To Compass this the Triple Bond he broke; 175
The Pillars of the Publick Safety shook,
And fitted Israel for a Foreign Yoke;
Then, seiz’d with Fear, yet still affecting Fame,
Usurp’d a Patriot’s All-attoning Name.
So easie still it proves in Factious Times 180
With publick Zeal to cancel private Crimes:
How safe is Treason and how sacred ill,
Where none can sin against the Peoples Will,
Where Crouds can wink; and no offence be known,
Since in anothers guilt they find their own. 185
Yet, Fame deserv’d, no Enemy can grudge;
The Statesman we abhor, but praise the Judge.
In Israels courts ne’er sat an Abbethdin
With more discerning Eyes or Hands more clean,
Unbrib’d, unsought, the Wretched to redress; 190
Swift of Dispatch and easie of Access.
Oh, had he been content to serve the Crown
With Vertues onely proper to the Gown,
Or had the rankness of the Soil been freed
From Cockle that opprest the Noble Seed, 195
David for him his tuneful Harp had strung,
And Heav’n had wanted one Immortal Song.
But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand,
And Fortunes Ice prefers to Vertues Land.
Achitophel, grown weary to possess 200
A lawful Fame, and lazie Happiness,
Disdain’d the Golden Fruit to gather free
And lent the Crowd his Arm to shake the Tree.
Now, manifest of Crimes, contriv’d long since,
He stood at bold Defiance with his Prince: 205
Held up the Buckler of the Peoples Cause
Against the Crown; and sculk’d behind the Laws.
The wish’d occasion of the Plot he takes;
Some Circumstances finds, but more he makes.
By buzzing Emissaries, fills the ears 210
Of listening Crouds, with Jealousies and Fears
Of Arbitrary Counsels brought to light,
And proves the King himself a Jebusite.
Weak Arguments! which yet he knew full well,
Were strong with People easie to Rebel. 215
For, govern’d by the Moon, the giddy Jews
Tread the same Track when she the Prime renews:
And once in twenty Years, their Scribes record,
By natural Instinct they change their Lord.
Achitophel still wants a Chief, and none 220
Was found so fit as Warlike Absalon:
Not, that he wish’d his Greatness to create,
(For Polititians neither love nor hate:)
But, for he knew his Title not allow’d,
Would keep him still depending on the Croud, 225
That Kingly pow’r, thus ebbing out, might be
Drawn to the Dregs of a Democracie.
Him he attempts with studied Arts to please
And sheds his Venome in such words as these.
Auspicious Prince! at whose Nativity 230
Some Royal Planet rul’d the Southern Sky;
Thy longing Countries Darling and Desire,
Their cloudy Pillar, and their guardian Fire,
Their second Moses, whose extended Wand
Divides the Seas and shows the promis’d Land, 235
Whose dawning Day, in every distant Age,
Has exercised the Sacred Prophets rage,
The Peoples Pray’r, the glad Diviners Theam,
The Young mens Vision and the Old mens Dream!
Thee, Saviour, Thee the Nations Vows confess; 240
And, never satisfi’d with seeing, bless:
Swift, unbespoken Pomps, thy steps proclaim,
And stammering Babes are taught to lisp thy Name.
How long wilt thou the general Joy detain;
Starve, and defraud the People of thy Reign? 245
Content ingloriously to pass thy days,
Like one of Vertues Fools that Feeds on Praise;
Till thy fresh Glories, which now shine so bright,
Grow Stale and Tarnish with our dayly sight.
Believe me, Royal Youth, thy Fruit must be 250
Or gather’d Ripe, or rot upon the Tree.
Heav’n has to all allotted, soon or late,
Some lucky Revolution of their Fate:
Whose Motions, if we watch and guide with Skill,
(For humane Good depends on humane Will,) 255
Our Fortune rolls as from a smooth Descent
And, from the first impression, takes the Bent;
But, if unseiz’d, she glides away like wind;
And leaves repenting Folly far behind.
Now, now she meets you with a glorious prize 260
And spreads her Locks before her as she flies
.
Had thus Old David, from whose Loins you spring,
Not dar’d, when Fortune call’d him, to be King,
At Gath an Exile he might still remain,
And Heavens Anointing Oil had been in vain. 265
Let his successful Youth your hopes engage,
But shun th’ example of Declining Age.
Behold him setting in his Western Skies,
The Shadows lengthening as the Vapours rise.
He is not now, as when, on Jordan’s Sand, 270
The Joyful People throng’d to see him Land,
Cov’ring the Beach and blackning all the Strand:
But like the Prince of Angels, from his height,
Comes tumbling downward with diminish’d light:
Betray’d by one poor Plot to publick Scorn, 275
(Our onely blessing since his curst Return,)
Those heaps of People which one Sheaf did bind,
Blown off and scatter’d by a puff of Wind.
What strength can he to your Designs oppose,
Naked of Friends, and round beset with Foes? 280
If Pharaoh’s doubtful succour he should use,
A Foreign Aid would more incense the Jews:
Proud Egypt woud dissembled Friendship bring;
Foment the War, but not support the King:
Nor woud the Royal Party e’r unite 285
With Pharaoh’s arms t’ assist the Jebusite;
Or if they shoud, their Interest soon would break,
And, with such odious Aid, make David weak.
All sorts of men, by my successful Arts
Abhorring Kings, estrange their altered Hearts 290
From David’s Rule: And ’tis the general Cry,
Religion, Common-wealth, and Liberty.
If you, as Champion of the Publique Good,
Add to their Arms a Chief of Royal Blood;
What may not Israel hope, and what Applause 295
Might such a General gain by such a Cause?
Not barren Praise alone, that Gaudy Flow’r,
Fair onely to the sight, but solid Pow’r:
And Nobler is a limited Command,
Giv’n by the Love of all your Native Land, 300
Than a Successive Title, Long, and Dark,
Drawn from the Mouldy Rolls of Noah’s ark.
What cannot Praise effect in Mighty Minds,
When Flattery Sooths and when Ambition Blinds!
Desire of Pow’r, on Earth a Vitious Weed, 305
Yet, sprung from High is of Cœlestial Seed;
