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l_:_'-^r?-r,_ 



LECTURES 



ON 



RHETORIC 



AND 



BELLES LETTRES. 



By HUGH BLAIR, D.D. & F.R.S. Ed. 

ONE OF THE MINISTERS OF THE HIGH CHURCH, AND 

PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND BELLES LETTRES 

IN THE UNIVERSITY^ OF EDINBURGH. 



THE TWELFTH EDITION. 



IN THREE VOLUMES. 



VOL. III. 



LONDON: 
:^njSTja> fob t. cadell and w. da vies, in the strand ; 

AND W. CREECH, EDINBURGH. 
1812. 



Sliahan and Prefton, 
Frinlers-Strcety London. 



• • ■ I 



r- 



CONTENTS 



OF 



THE THIRD VOLUME. 



v/x: 



•ECT. Page 

XXXV. (COMPARATIVE Merit of 

the Antients and the Mo- 
dems'^ Hi/iorical Writing i 
XXXVI. Hiftorical Writing - • ^ 

XXXVII. Philofophical Writing— Dia^ 

logice — Epiftoldry Writing 
— Fictitious Hiftory - 53 

XXXVIII. Nature of Poetry — its Origin 

and Progrefs — Verji/ication 7 8 

XXXIX. Pq/ioral Poetry — Lyric Poetry 106 

XL. Didadic Poetry — Defcriptive 

Poetry - - ^135 

XLL The Poetry of the Hebrews 162 

XLIL Epic Poetry ^ - - 187 

XLIII. Homer* s Iliad and Odyjfey — 

VirgiVs Mneid - - 2 1 3 



IT CONTENTS. 

LECT. Page 

XLIV. Lwan^s PharfaUa — Tq/pfsJe^ 

nifalem — Camoens* Ltifiad 
— Fenelon*s Telemachus ^-^ 
Voltaire's Henriade — Mil- 
ton's Paradife Loji - 239 
XLV. JDfArMtic J^iei^^:^agedi/ 269 

XLVL Tragedy — Greek --^ French -^ 

JEmgUJh Tragedy - ^99 

XLVIL Comedy — Greek and Roman — 

French — EngUfh Comedy 329 



ILECT. 



,,1 M ,,e g38aBBBBg .i. im i j iii iT . ii ggaaaaeaBaeagfe 



LECTURE XXXV. 



COMPARATIVE MERIT OF THE ANTIENTS 
AND THE MODERNS— HISTORICAL 

WRITING. 

T HAVE now finiftied that part of the Coude-L E c T, 
^ which refpedled Oratory or Ptiblic Spewing, xxxv. 
and which, as far as the fabje^t allowed, I have 
endeavoured to form into fome fort of fyftem^ 
It remains, sthat I enter on the confideration of 
the mod diftinguiihedkiQcU pf Compolitipntbothi| 
in Profe and Yerfe, andpoiatoutthe^principles 
of Criticifm relating to them. This, part of the 
work might eafily be drawn out to a great length ; 
bi|tl am fenfiUe th^t critical difcuifions, when 
tbey are purfued tQo far, bpcQme hoiji trifling 
i^nd tedious. I ihall fludy, therefore, i 4j> avoid 
unnece^ry prdiidty; ,and h(^, at the fami^ 
time, to omit nothings Uiat is very material uivr 
der the fe v^ajl: h<pad$. . 



I r I 



I SHA^L foUpfvthe lame^ method here which J 
have all along purfued^^ and without which the& 
Lectures could not be entitled to any attention } 
that is,' I (hall free]y deliver my own opinion on 

VOL. III. B every 



2 COMPARATIVE MERIT OF 

L E c T. ev^ &IJ€d; ; regarding authority no Luther, 
^' than as it appears to me founded on good fenfe 
and reafon. In former Le6lures, £^ I have 
often quoted feveral of the antient Claffics for 
their beauties, ib I have alfo, fometitnes, pointed 
out their defedls. Hereafter, I fliall have oc- 
cafion to do the famie, when treating of their 
writings under more general heads. It may be 
fit, therefore, that, before I proceed farther, I 
make foniie pbfervations on the comparative 
merit of* th^ Antients and the Modems ; in order 
that we may be able to afcertain, rationally, 
upon what foundation that deference refts, 
miiich has fo generally been paid to the An- 
tient&« Thefe icAfervations are the more necef- 
&r^9 as this i&bjeSt has given ri& to no fmall 
cwitroverfy in the Republic of Letters; and 
they may^ with propriety, be made now, as they 
uriil "ibrve to drrow light on ifeme things I have 
iy(lerwftr4s to^liver^ concerning di^rent kinds 
ef Cotopofition. 

' Irisa i^emarkable-pbenomenon, aiod one which 
kas often emj^loyed tlie Q)ecfila1ions of curious 
mfen, iMt Writws and Attifts, mail diftingwiftied 
fer thei^ parts «>d geniiis, hMe ^eneraJly ap- 
perilled in t^onfiderable ivuiisbeys ^t a time. Some 
ages have been remarkably banr^ in them; 
while, at other periods. Nature feems to have 
exerted herieff ^vith atnore ^n ordinary efiert, 
tWtd^iOliave peured 4*iem^fi>rth with a prefirife 
fertifity. Various reafonB hove %eea affigneA 
fbr HA^. %0me tf the teei^al ^auibs IKe obvious ; 

&ch 



V .U 



I 



THE AimENTS AND THE MODERNS. 3 

fuch as favourable cirpumftances of government ttCTi 
and pf manners; encouragement from great ^^^^"* 
men ; emulation excite^l among the men of ge^ 
nius. But as thefe have been thou^t inade^ 
quate to the whole ef&6t, pl;iyfical caufe$ have 
l>een aifo afligned ; and the Abbe da Bos, in 
bis Refle(9;ions on Poetry and Painting, has coL 
le£fced a great many obfervations on . the influ- 
ence whi(;h the air, the climate, and other fuch 
natural caufes, may be fuppo&d to have upon 
genius. But whatever the cau&s be, the fa£t 
is certain^ that there have been certain periods 
pr ages of the world much more diiUnguiihed 
than others for the extraordinary produ^ions 
of genius. • 

• 

Leabned men have marked out four of thele 
happy ages. The firft is tiie Grecian Age, which ' 
commenced near the time of the Pelopontieiiai^ ' 
war, and extended till ^be time of Aieicander the 
Great; within which period we have Herodotus^ 
Thucydides, Xenophon, Socrates, I^ato, Ari& 
tode, Demofthen^s, j^fcfaines, Lyfias, Kbcratea^ 
Pindar, i^chylus, Euripides, Sophocles, Ariiio^ 
phanes, Menander, Anacreon, Theocritus^Lyflp^ 
jpns, Apelles, Phidias, Praxiteles. Th^ £econd j2. 
is l^e Ronaon Ag^^ included nearly within thi^ 
days iofjulkis C« far and Auguftus ; affording us 
CatuUtis, Lucretius, Terence, Virgil, Horace, 
TibuUus, Propertius, Ovid, Phaedrus, Csefar, Cif 
cero, Livy, Salluft, Varro, and Vitruvius. I'he 
timd Age is, that ef the reftoration of Leain.- -^ 
tng,nnder the Popes Julius IL and LeoX.; when 

B z flouriihed 



1 



4 COMPARATIVE MERIT OF 

L E C T. flourilhed Ariofto, Taflb, Sannazarius, Vida- 
^^' Machiavel, Guicciardini, Davila, Eraftnus, Paul 
Jovius, Michael Angelo, Raphael, Titian. The 
fourth comprehends the Age of Louis XIV. 
and Queen Anne ; when flourifhed in France, 
Corneille, Racine, De Retz, Moliere, Boileau, 
Fontaine, Baptifte, Rouffeau, Boffuet, Fenelon; 
Bourdaloue, Pafcall, Malebranche, Maffilon, 
Bruyere, Bayle, Fontenelle, Vertot ; and in 
England, Dryden, Pope, Addifon, Prior, Swift, 
Parnell, Arbuthnot, Congreve, Otway, Young, 
Rowe, Atterbury, Shaftelbury, Bolingbroke, 
Tillotfon, Temple, Boyle, Locke, Newton,^ 
Clarke. 

When we fpeak comparatively of the Antients 
and the Moderns, we generally mean by the An- 
tients, fuch as lived in the two firft of thefe 
periods, including alfo one or two who lived 
more early, as Homer in particular ; and by the 
moderns, thofe who flourifhed in the two laft 
of thefe ages, including alfo the eminent Writers 
down to our own times. Any comparifon be- 
tween thefe two clafles of Writers mud necef- 
farily be vague and loofe, as they comprehend 
fo many^ and of fuch different kinds and de- 
grees of genius. But the comparifon is gene- 
rally made to turn, by thofe who are fond of 
making it, upon two or three of the moll dif- 
tinguifhed in each clafs. With much heat it 
was agitated in France, between Boileau and 
Mad. Dacier, on the one hand, for the Antietits, 
and Perault and La Motte, on the other, for 
:. the 



THE ANTIENTS AND THE MODERNS. 5 

the Moderns ; and it was carried to extremes on L E c T. 
both fides. To this day, among men of tafte ^^^^^• 
and letters, we find a leaning to one or other fide. 
A few refle6lions may throw light upon the fub- 
je6l, and enable us to difcern upon what grounds 
we are to reft our judgment in this controverfy. 

If any one, at this day, in the eighteenth 
century, takes upon him to decry the antient 
Claflics ; if he pretends to have difcovered that 
Horner and Virgil are Poets of inconfiderable 
merit, and that Demofthenes and Cicero are not 
great Orators, we may boldly venture to tell 
fuch a man, that he is come too late with his 
difcovery. The reputation of fuch Writers is 
cftabliflied upon a foundation too folid to be now 
fliaken by any arguments whatever ; for it is 
eftablifhed upon the almoft univerfal tafte of 
mankind, ;^roved and tried throughout the fuc- 
ceflion of fo many ages. Imperfe6lions in their 
works he may, indeed, point out ; paffages that 
are faulty he may fliew; for where is the human 
work that is perfeft ? But, if he attempts to dit 
credit their works in general, or to prove that 
the reputation which they have gained is, on 
the whole, unjuft, there is an argument againft 
lum, which is equal to full demonftration. He 
muft be in the wrong; for human nature i^ 
againft him. In matters of tafte, fuch as Poetry 
and Oratory, to whom does the appeal lie? 
where is theftandard? and where the authority 
of the laft decifion ? where is it to be looked for, 

» 3 * but^ 



6 COMPARATIVE MERIT OP 

I* E c T^ but, as I fdrmerly fliewed, in thofc feelings and 
^^^^% fentimcntd that are found, an the moll extenfive 
examination, to be the common fentiments and 
feelings of men ? Tbefe have been fully con- 
fulted on this head. Tb* Public, the unpreju- 
diced Public, has been tried and appealed to for 
many centuries, and throughout almoll all civi- 
lized nations. It hasi pronounced its verdi6l ; 
it has given its fandlion to tbefe writers ; and 
&om this tribunal there lies no farther appeal. 

Ii^ matterift of mere reafoning, the world may 
bi^ lo^g in an error ; and may be convinced of 
the errer by ftronger reafonings, when produced. 
Fofitiond that depend upon fcienc^, upon know« 
I6dg6, and matteifs of fafit, may be overturned 
according a^ Science and knowledge are eA« 
kr^d, and new matters of fkGt are brought to 
tight. For thiis reAfon, a fyftem of* Phikfophy 
recmves nofufficient fan^tion from its antiquity, 
or long currency. The world, as it grows older, 
fiiay be juftly expefited to become, if not Wifer, 
at l6ail more knowing ; and fappofing it doubt- 
Ail, whether Ariftotle or Newton were the 
greater genius, yet Newtott*s Pbilofbphy may 
prevail over Ariftotle*s by meana o# later difco- 
veries, to which Ariftotle waid a ftranger. But 
toothing of this kind holds as to matters of Tafte^ 
which depend not on the progrel^ of knowledge 
and ibiettde, Iiut npon fentiment and feeling. 
It 1^ in yaifi to think of undeiieiving nmnkind, 
ttritb r6i^dt to enroll cdtnmitted he^i'e, as in 

• Philofophy. 



THE ANTIENTS AKD THE MODERNS. 



7 



Philofophy. For the ufiiverfal feelioff of man- L l C T, 
kind is the natural feeling ; and becaufe it is -^^^^^ 
the natural, it is, for that reafon, the right feel- 
ing. The reputation of the Iliad and the ^Eneid 
muft therefore iland upon fure ground, becaufe 
it has flood fo long; though that of the Atifto* 
telian or PlatOQie Philofophy, every one id at 
liberty to call in queftion. 

It is in vain alfo to allege, that the reputation 
of the antient Poets and Orators is owing to 
authority, to pedantry, and to the prejudices of 
education, tranfmitted from a(ge to age. 'Thefe, 
it is true, are the authors put into our hat^ds aft 
lefaools and colleges, and by that means we have 
MfW an early prepofleffion in their favoor j but 
bow came they to gain the poffefflon of colleges 
and fchooh ? Plainly, by tlie high fame which 
fh^fe authors had nmatig their own conteirtjpora- 
ries. For the Greek and Latin ^ere mot alwaiys 
dead Languages. There Was a time whet* Ho- 
i^iet, and Virgil, and Horace, were vietf ed iii the 
ikiae Hght as we now view Dryden, Pope, and 
Addifbn. It is not to commentajfors and univer- 
fities that the clafires are indebted for their fame. 
They became clafffics and fehooJ-boolcs, in cofk 
S^vtente rftfee high admiration which Was paid 
them by the beft judges in their own country 
and nation. As early as the days of Juvenal, 
who wrote under the reign of Pomitiau, we find 
Yirgfl' aofd Horace becoiaM tlw ftswdftfol books 
ift the ^(kk^ifDn of youtb. 

B 4 Quot 



$ COMPARATIVE MERIT OF . 

IE C T. Quot ftabant pueri, cum totus decolor eflet 

^^^^^^' Flaccus, & hareret nigro fuligo Maroni*. 

' Sat. 7* 

From this general principle, then, of the re- 
putation of the great antient Claffics being fo 
early, fo lading, fo extenfive, among all the 
moll polifhed nations, we may juftly and boldly 
infer, that their reputation cannot be wholly 
unjuft, but muft have a folid foundation in the 
merit of their writings. 

Let us jguard, however, againft a blind and 
implicit veneration for the Antients in every 
thing. I have opened the general principle 
which mull go far in inllituting a fair compa- 
rifon between them and the Moderns. What- 
ever fuperiority the Antients may have had in 
point of genius, yet in all arts, where the natu- 
ral progrefs of knowledge has had room to pro- 
duce any confiderable effe6ls, the Moderns can- 
not but have fome advantage. The world may, 
in certain relpe6ls, be confidered as a perfon, 
who mull needs gain fomewhat by advancing in 
years. Its improvements have not, . I confefs, 
been always in proportion to the centuries that 
have paffed over it ; for, during the courfe of 
fome ages, it has funk as into a total lethargy. 



^^ 



* " Then thou art bound to fmell, on either hand) 
** As many (linking lamps, as fchool-boys ftand, 
** When Horace could not read in his own fully'd book, 
" And Virgil's facred page was all beiinear'dvrithfmoke.'' 

Drydek. 

Yet, 



\ 



THE ANTIENTS AND THE MODERNS. 9 

Yet, when roufed from that lethargy, it has ge- L E c T, 
nerally been able to avail itfelf, more or lefs, of ^^^^^^^^* 
former difcoveries. At intervals, there arofe 
fome happy genius, who could both improve 
on what had gone before, and invent fomething 
new. . With the advantage of a proper flock of 
-materials, an inferior genius can make greater 
progrefs than a much fuperior one, to whom 
thefe materials are wanting. 

» 
Hence, in Natural Philofophy, Aftronomy, 

Chemiftry, and other Sciences that depend on 
an extenfive knowledge and obfervation of fa£i$« 
Modern Philofophers have an unqueftionable 
fuperiority over the Antient. I am inclined alfo 
to think, that in matters of pure reafoning, there 
is more precifion among the Moderns, than in 
fome inftances there was among the Antients ; 
owing perhaps to a more extenfive literary inter- 
courfe, which has improved and Iharpened the 
faculties of men.. In fome ftudies, too, that 
relate to tafte and fine writing, which is our ob- 
je£l, the progrefs of Society mufl:, in equity, be 
admitted to have given us fome advantages. 
For inflance, in Hiftory, there is certainly more 
political knowledge in feveral European nations 
at prefent than there was in antient Greece and 
Rome. We are better acquainted with the na- 
ture of government, becaufe we have feen it 
under a greater variety of forms and revolutions. 
The world is more laid open than it was in for- 
mer times; commerce is greatly enlarged ; more 
countries are civilised ; pofts are every where 

15 ellablifhed ; 



10 COMPAHATIVE MERIT OF 

Z* C C T. eftablifhed ; intercourfe is become more eaiy ; 

^^^'^. and the knowledge of fadls, by confequence, 
more attainable. All thefe are great advantages 
to Hiftorians ; of which, in fome meafure, as I 
ihall afterwards fhow, they have availed them- 
ielves» In the more complex kinds of Poetry, 
likewife, we may have gained fomewbat^ per- 
haps, in point of regularity and accuracy. In 
Dramatic Performances, having the advantage 
of the ancient models, we may be allowed to 
have made fome improvements in the variety of 
the cbara^ers, the conduct of the plot, atten- 
tfctfis to probability, and to decorums. 

I Tbcs£ feem to me the chief points of fuperi- 
ority we can plead above the Antients. Neither 
do they extend as far as might be imagined at 
firft view. For if the ftrength of genius be on 
one fide, it will go far, in works of tafte at leaft, 
to counterbalance all the artificial improvements 
which can be made by greats knowledge and 
corre^nefs. To return to our comparifon of the 
age of the world with that of a man i it may be 
faid, not altc^ether without reaib% that if the 
advancing age of the world bring aloiig with it 
more fcience and m&ti^ refln^menrt, there belong, 
however, to Hi earlier periods, more vigour, 
fiiore fire, more enthuiiafm of genius. This 
apf^ears indeed to form^ the charadteriflic di£fer- 
mce between the Antient Poets, Orators, and 
Hiftorians^ cCJWpared with the Modern. Amofig 
the Antients, we find higher conceptions, 
greater fimpficity, more original fancy* Among 

the 




THE ANTlfiKTS AND THE MODERNS. n 

the ModerriSj fcrmetimos more art and coneGk* h ZCT . 
li^ffif, but feebler exertions of genius. Boit 
though this h^ iD general a mark of diftin&ioil 
between the Antients and Modems, yet, lik* 
All general obfervations^ it muft be underflood 
t^dth fome exceptions ; for, in point of poetical 
fire and original genius, Milton and Shakel|)eard 
are inferior to no l^oets in any age. 

It is pro^r to obferve, that there were fome 
circumftances in antient times very favourable to 
thofe uncommon efforts of genius which were 
then exerted. Learning was a much more rare 
and lingular attainment in the earlier ages, than 
' it is at prefent. It was not to fchools and uni- 
verfities that the perfons applied who fought to 
diftinguifli themfelves. They had not this eafy 
recourfe. They travelled for their improvement 
into diftant countries, to Egypt, and to the 
Ball. They inquired after all the monumenta 
of learning there. They converfisd with Priefts, 
PhiIofi>phers, Poets, with all who had acquired 
any diftinguiihed fame. They returned to theit 
dwn countfy full of the difcoveries which thcjT 
had made, and fired by the new and uncommon 
obje6ts which they had feen. Their knowledge 
ai^ improrements coft them more labour^ raifed 
in them more enthufiafioriy were attended with 
higher rewards and honours^, than in modern 
days. Fewer had the means and opportunities 
of diflinguifhing themfelves; but fuch as did 
diftinguifh themfelves, were fWe of acquiring 
that ^Emie, and even veneration, which is, of all 

rewards. 



15 CbMPARATIVE MERIT OF 

« 

L E c T. rewards, the greateft incentive to genius. Hercv 
^^\ dotus read his hiftory to all Greece affembled at 
the Olympic games, and was publicly crowned. 
In the Peloponnefian war, when the Athenian 
army was defeated in Sicily, and the prifoners 
were ordered to be put to death, fuch of them as 
could repeat any verfes of Euripides were faved, 
from honour to that Poet, who was a citizen pf 
Athens. Thefe were teftimonies of public re- 
gard, far beyond what modern manners confer 
upon genius. 

. In our times, good writing is confidered as an 
attainment, neither fo difficult nor fo high and 
meritorious. 

Scribimus indo£li, doftiquc, Poemata paflim*. 

We write much more fupinely, and at our eafe, 
than the Antiants. To excel, is become a much 
lefs confiderable obje6l. Lefs effort, lefs exer- 
tion is required,, becaufe we have many more 
affiftances than they. Printing has rendered all 
books common, and ealy to be had. Education 
for any of the learned profeffions caA be carried 
on without much trouble. Hence a mediocrity 
of genius is fpread over all ; but to rife beyond 
that, and to overtop the crowd, is given to few. 
The multitude of affiftances which we have for 
all kinds of compofition, in the opinion of Sir 

« 

* « Now every' defperate blockhead dares to write, 
** Vcrfe is the trade of every living wight." 

Francis. 

Willian^ 






THE ANTIENTS AND THE MODERNS. 13 

William Temple, a very competent judge, ra^ L E c T.: 
ther depreffes than favours the exertions of na- ^^^* 
tive genius. ** It is very poffible,'* fays that 
ingenious Author, in his Effay on the Antients 
and Moderns, " that men may lofe rather thani 
gain by thefe; may leffen the force of their 
own genius, by forming it upon that of others j 
may have lefs knowledge of their own, for 
contenting themfelves with that of thofe be-^ 
fore them. So a man that only tranflates, fhall 
never be a Poet; fo people thattruft to oth§rE 
charity, rather than their own induftry, will 
" be always poor. Who can tell," he adds^ 
^' whether learning may not even weaken inven- 
" tion, in a man that has great advantages front 
** nature ? Whether the weight and. number of 
" fo many other men's thoughts and notions 
may not fupprefs his own ; as heaping on wood 
fometimes fupprefles a little ipark, that ^would 
" otherwife have grown into a flame?. The 
" {Irength of mind, as well as of body, grows 
" more from the warmth of exercife, than' of 
" clothes J nay, too much of this foreign h'eaJg 
"rather makes men faint, and their conftitu^* 
** tions weaker than they would be without 
*' them.'* , ; L 






L 



From whatever caufe it happens, fo it is, that 
among fome of the An tient Writers, we muftlook 
for the higheft models in/ moft of the kinds of 
elegant Compofition. For accurate thinking 
and enlarged ideas, in feveral parts of Philofo- 
phy, to the Moderns we ought chiefly to have 

recourfe* 



14 COMPARATIVE MERIT OF 

t E c T. recourfe. Of correft and finiflied writing itt 
^^^^\^ fome works of tafle, they may afford ufefiil pat- 
terns; but for all that belongs to original ge^* 
Bias, to fpirited, maflerly, and high e}s:ecution, 
our bed 3sxd moft happy ideas are^ generally 
i|>eakiiig9 drawn from the Antients. In Epic 
Poetry^ for iiiftaxuc^e. Homer and Virgil^ to diis 
day, fiand not within many degrees of ^y rival. 
Orators, fuch as Cicero and Demoilheaes, we 
have ^one« In Hiftory, notwithilanding fome 
de£e£b, which I am afterwards to mention in 
the Antient Hiftoxical Flajas, it m^y be ikfely 
averted, that we have no fuch hi/lorical jtiarra- 
tion, £b elegant, fo piStureiquey fo animated and 
interefting, as that of Harodotu&f Thueydides, 
Xenophon, Livy, Tacitus^ and Salluft. Al- 
tibiMagh the £onduj6t of the drama naay be 
admitted to have received fom£ improve- 
meats, yet &r Foeixj and Sentiment wie liave 
DotSiing to jequal Sphocles :and Euripides; nor 
any -dialogue in comedy^ that cmnes up to 
the corre^ gracefiil, ;and degant itmpBcity 
pf Terence. We bav« no iuch Love Elegies 
as thofe of Tihnlli^s; no fudi Pjoilorals as 
tmktt of Uieocritus'^: and for Lyric Poetry, 
Horace Hands quite unrivalled. The name of 
Horace cannot be mentioned without a parti- 
cular itncomfum. That ^ Cmioik IFelicitas," 
irfajcb PetaxTQius lia€ remarked so his exprefliou; 
tbe fweetnefs, ideganoe, and Spirit of naany of 
loih (Mes, tibe thof oiagli knowladgeof liie worlds 
thid ezce^nt fentimetais, and JiatunaJ isafy man- 
nti iviach diflinguiuflailusiSatk all 

4 con* 




THE ANTIElflTS AMD THI MODERNS. t$ 

coiitribirte to render him one c£ thofe very few L E € T> 
Authors whom one never tires of reading ; and 
fiH>m vhoHi alone, were every oilier monument 
deftr^nsjd^ we fhould be led to form a very high 
idea of the Cafte and genius of the Auguftan 
Age. 

Tq all fiicht then, a^ wifh to iorm tb^r taft/5t 
and nonrifli their genius,^ let me warnaly reppra* 
mmd th^ ^duous iludy of the Aatiept ChS^QSp, 
l?.oth Greek and Rpwan; 

Ko£bum& r&tfktit maaii^ verf«ite44uini&^. 

Witbout a confidera'ble acquaintance with them^ 
no man can be reckoned a politfe fchojar^ andlie^^ 
will want many afliftance for writing and fpeak- 
ipg well, which the knowl^ge of fuch Authors 
would ailbrd him. Any one has great reafop to 
fjiii^eft his own tajde, who receives Jittle or np 
ple^flure from th^ perufai of Writings, which fp 
many ages and jiations have confent^din holding 
up as objefts of admiration. And 1 am per- 
fuadejd it will be found, that in prpportipn as 
the Atiticnt$ are generally dudled and admi,r$d^ 
or aire io^ijfnown and difbegarded in any country, 
gopd latte and gopd compolition will flourlfh or 
djg6lhie. . They are commonly none but the ig- 
nPrjiinjt pr 'iTuperficial wlio undervalue theni* 

At the fame time, a juft and high regard for 
l3ie prhn* writers of antiquity is to . be aljvays 



" *■ ii 



* « Head them by day, andftudy them by nigjht.** 

7itANei». 

diilin« 



J 5 HISTORICAL WRITING. 

I- E c T. diftinguiflied^ from that contempt of every thing 
^?^^'. which is Modern, and that blind veneration for 
all that has been written in Greek or Latin, 
which, belongs only to pedants. Among the 
Greek and Roman Authors, fome affuredly de- 
ferve much higher regard than others ; nay, fome 
are of no great value. Even the beft of them lie 
open occafionally to juft cenfure; for to no 
human performance is it given to be abfolutely 
perfeft. We may, we ought therefore to read 
them with a diftinguifliing eye, fo as to propofe 
for imitation their beauties only; and it is per- 
fe6tly confident with juft and candid criticifm, 
to find fault with parts, while at the fame time, 
it admires the whole. 

After thefe reflexions on the Antients and 
Moderns, I proceed to a critical examination of 
the moft diftinguifhed kinds of Compofition, and 
the chara6ters of thofe Writers who have excelled 
in them whether Modern or Antient. 

.«..."!" , I . . i • • • • , 

The moft general divifion of the diffferent 
kind's of Compofition is, into thofe written iij^ 
Profe^ and thofe written in Verfe ; which xer- 
tainly require to be feparately confid^red, be- 
caufe fubje6l to feparate laws. I b^gin, as is 
moft natural, with Writings in Frofe. Of 6ra-, 
tions, or public Difcourfe3 of all kithis,; I have, 
already treated fully. The remaining Ipecies 
of Profe Compofitions, which aflume any fuch 
regular form as to fall under the cognizance of 
Qritipifpi, feem to be chiefly thefe : Hiftorical 

.. , Writing, 



^ 



HISTORICAL WRITING. 

I^riting, Philofophical Writing, Epiftolary Writ- 
ing, and Fictitious Etiftory* Hiftorical Compo- 
fition fhali be firft cpnfidered j and, as it is an 
object of dignity, I propoije to tieat of it at fpme 
length, 

Asi it i$ the office of an Oi'ator to perfuade, it \ 
is that of an Hiilori^n to recor4 truth fpr the \ 
inilru^bipn of mankind. This is the jvop.ef ob- ' ) 
je3; and ^nd of hiftory, from \f hich may be de* 
duced aiany of the l^ws relating to it \ and if 
this ob9<$6t were always kept in view, it would 
prevent many of the errors into which perfons 
are ^t to fall concemiipg this fpecies of com^ 
pofition# As the primary end of hiftory is to 
record truth. Impartiality, Fidelity, and Accu- y 
racy are ithe fundamental qualities of an Hifto^ f 
rian. H^ tauft neither he a paaegyrift nor a 
fatirJAr iixe mud not enter into faction, nor . 
give fcppe to a^Tedtipn ; but» contemplati^g pad 
events and chara6);ers wii^h a €0q1 ^.nd diipai^ 
fionate eye, mufl prefent .to bis Readers a faith- 
ful copy of hvunan n^t^rp« 

A^' the fs^nc t;ime, it is not every record of 
£a,6ls, however true, that is entitled to the name 
of I{i(lory ; but fuch ja record as enables us to 
apply tlie |tran^6lion^ of former ages for our owQ 
inftru^ion. The fa6ls pught to be momentous 
^nd important ; reprefepted in connexion with 
jtheir cauies ; traced to their effedts ; and un« 
folded in clear and diilin£l orden For wifdom 
is the gre^t pnd of Hiftory. It is defigned «to 

m. c fMPply 




'A- 



\. 



18 HISTORICAL WRITING. 

L E c T- fupply the want of experience. Though it en- 
^^^^^^* . force not its inftru6lions with the fame autho- 
rity, yet it fumifhes us with a greater variety 
of inftru6lions, than it is.poffible for experience 
to afford in the courfe of the longed life. Its 
object is, to enlarge our views of the human 
chara6ler, and to give full exercife to our judg- 
ment on human affairs. It muft not therefore 
be a tale calculated to pleafe only, and addrelTed 
to the fancy. Gravity and dignity are effential 
charaaeriftics of Hiftory ; no light ornaments 
are to be employed, no flippancy of ftyle, no 
quaintnefs of wit. But the Writer muft fuftain 
i the charadl^r of a wife man, writing for the in- 
ftru6lion of pofterity ; one who has ftudied to 
inform himfelf well, who has pondered his fub- 
je6l with care, and addreffes himfelf to our 
judgment, rather than to our imagi^i^iion. At 
the fame time, Hiftorical Writing is by no means 
^ inconfiftent with ornamented and fpirited narra- 
Y^^. tion. It admits of much high ornament and 
,r^r \ elegance; but the ornaments muft be always 
J^ confiftent with dignity ; they fliould not appear 
^"^ to be fought after, but to rife naturally from a 
mind animated by the events which it records* 






ft % 



.J^it. 









r 



Historical Compofition is linderftood to 
comprehend under it, Annals, Memoirs, Lives. 
But thefe are its inferior fubordinate Ipecies, on 
which I fliall hereafter make feme reflexions, 
when I ihall have firft confidered what belongs 
to a regular and legitimate work of Hiftory* 
Such a work is <;hiefly of two kinds. Either the 

entire 



HiSTORICAL WRITING. ig 

entire Hiftory of fome ftiate or kingdom through L E c T. 
its diflferent revolutions, fuch as Livy's Roman J^^^^ 
Hiftory j or the Hiftory of fome one great event, 
or fome portion or period of time which may be 
confidered as making a whole by itfelf ; fuch as 
Thucydides's Hiftory of the Peloponnefian War, 
Davila's Hiftory of the Civil Wars of France, or 
Clarendon's of thofe of England. 

In the condu6l and management of his fub- 
je6l, the firft attention requifite in an Hiftorian, 
is to give it as much unity as poffiblej that is,* 
his Hiftory fliould not confift of feparate uncon^ 
iie6led parts merely, but flioiild be bound to- ♦ 
gether by fome conne6ling principle, which 
fliall make the impreflion on the mind of fom«- 
thing that is one, whole and entire. It is i in- 
conceivable how great an effeft this, when hap^' 
pily executed, has upon a Reader, and it is fur- 
prifing that fome able Writers of Hiftory haver 
not attended to it more. Whether pleafure or 
inftru6lion be the end fought by the ftudy ofi 
Hiftory, either of them is enjoyed to much 
greater advantage, when the mind has always^ 
before it the progrefs of fome one great plan oc 
lyftem of a6lions ; when there is fome point or 
centre, to whklh we can refer the various faSfcs 
related by the Hiftorian. .s , 

In general Hiftories, whichrecord the affairs 
of a whole nation or empire thrdughoutieverai 
ages, this unity, I confefs, muft be more im« 

c 2 perfe£l« 



26 HISTORICAI- WRITING, 

L E c T. perfe6i. Yet even there^ fome degree of it can 
^^°^* be preferved by a fkilful Writer. For though 
the whole, taken, together, be very complex, 
yet the great conftituent parts of it form fo 
many fubordinate wholes, when taken by them- 
felves ; each of which can be treated both ^ 
complete within itfelf, and as coni^edled with 
what goes before and follows. In the Hiftory 
of a Monarch, for inftance, every reign ftiould 
have its own unity ; a beginning, a middle, and 
an end, to the fyilem of affairs ; while, at the 
fame time, we are taught to difcern how that 
lyftem of affairs rofe from the preceding, and 
how it is inferted into what follows. We Ihould 
be able to trace all the fecret links of the chain, 
which binds together remote and feemingly un- 
conne6led events. In fome kingdoms of Eu- 
rope, it was the plan of many fucceffive Princes 
to reduce the power of their Nobles ; and during 
feveral reigns, moft of the leading adlions'had 
a reference to this end. In other ftates, the 
rifing power of the Commons influenced, for a 
traft of time, the courfe, aad connection of 
public SL&irs. Among the Rpmans, the leading 
principle wa^ a gradual exten.iion of conquefl^ 
and the attainment of univerfa-l empire. The 
ccmtinual increafe iof their pql^er, advancing 
towards this end from fmall begi)initig$|, and by 
a fort of regular progreffive plan, furnifhed to 
Iiyy:a hiappy fubje^t for hiitorical unity, iq the 
midft of a great variety of trjmtk&ions. 






V. 



l,;oiu>C Of 



HISTORICAL WRITING. 21 

Of all the ancient general hiftorians. the one L E c T( 
who had the mod exa6l idea of this quality of -*'^*^^' 
Hiftorical Compofition, though in other refpedls 
not an elegant Writer, is Polybius. This ap- 
pears from the account he gives of his own plan 
in the beginning of his third book ; obferving 
that the fubje^t of which he had undertaken to 
write, is, throughout the whole of it, one adlion^ 
t>ue great fpeftacle ; how, and by what caufes, 
all the parts of the habitable world became fub- 
je6l to the Roman empire. " This a6lion,** 
feys he, " is diftinfil in its beginning, deter- 
'^ mined in its duration, and clear in its final 
** accomplifliment ; therefore, I think it of ufe 
** to give a general view beforehand of the chief 
** conftituent parts which make up this whole.'* 
In another place, he congratulates himfelf on 
his good fortune, in having a fubje6l for Hif- 
tory which allowed fuch variety of parts to be 
united under one view ; remarking, that before 
this period . the affairs of the world were feat- 
tered and without connedlion ; whereas, in the 
times of which he writes, all the great tranf- 
ftfUons of the world tended and verged to one 
point, and were capable 6f being confidered as 
parts of one fyftem. Whereupon he adds feveral 
very judicious obfervations concerning the ufe- 
fulnefs of writing Hiftory upon fuch a compre- 
henfive and connected plan ; comparing the im- 
perfect degree of knowledge which is afforded 
by particular fafl:s without general views, to the 
imperfe6l idea which one would entertain of an 
imimal who had beheld its feparate parts only, 

c 3 without 



11 HISTORICAL WRiTINGw 

t E C T. without having ever feen its entire form and 
^^^•/ftruaure*. 

Such as write the hiftory of fome particular 
great tranfa6lion, as confine themfelves to one 
aera, or one portion of the hiftory of a nation, 
have fo great advantages for prefer vinghiftorical 
unity, that they are inexcufable if they fail in it. 
Salluft's Hiftories of the Catilinarian andjugur- 
thine wars, Xenophon's Cyropaedia, and his Re- 
treat of the Ten Thoufand, are inftances of par- 
ticular Hiftories, where the unity of hiftorical 
obje6l is perfectly well maintained. Thucydides, 
otherwife a writer of great ftrength and dignity, 
has failed much, in this article, in his hiftory 
of the Peloponnefian war. No one great obje6t 
is properly purfued, and kept in view ; but his 
narration is cut down into fmall pieces, his 
hiftory is divided by fummers and winters, and 



*fop«»? ixir^luq avfo^ia^M roc oXa, flrapawX*jV/o» t* rao-p^wv, «j av f* 
Ti'E? IfM-^vxii '^i x«\&f <rufxee>7o^ yeyowro^ ^tEppfjueva t« /xipn Sf»ju.€»M, 
ybjui^otEV itMvSg ecmovrou ytyvia^ou rni hsfy^ia^ dvrw t» ^uov kou 

TO ^Vy TU TE El^El ^E TIQ ST^^ >Vt^X»; EVST^ETTEiCfr, XMVUTCC VrCtXiV iViOtUtyVO^ 

ToTg dvToU lx£4vo*?, ta^x^taq ay o7ju«» wavraj dvTOUq ofJiO^doyi^a-uy d*o n 
xal. Xi«y icoXv Ti tSj aXijOs/aj diriXsiTrorf v^ooQif^ xeu wafawXnoioy 
re7; ovu^l6va-kv ^sa.i, Xwomv juev yoL^ 'kaSuit cmto ft-i^ Tt^v oXvv tft/yftTnr. 
iir(r«)/Aiiy 5e xal ywixr^y uT^iKri e^p^Etv a^Jvaroy. ^»o wavlEXwf P^ccxv t* 
yoprcoy mfiJiSocTOit^Gou td'v xara /uEpoj Iro^Mxy «r§«j Tiiy t«» oXwv E/x^Etgtay 
xa) tsr^ro, Ix /i*e» TOiye Tti'j awrayrflrt^ w^j aXX)}Xa cT//iAirXox>jj xal 9r»^0£- 
eriuq, ETi ^ o/xoioTfrro^ xai ^to^f «? /uLoya;; ay tk l9*^o<jo xal ivvYiQtim xotot- 
'^Et/ffw; a^ K»i TO ;cfnVi/Aoy xe»I to te^^W^ fx rt)? »ro^^ Xa/Sur* 

FoiiYB* Hiftor. Prim. 

we 



HISTORICAL WRITINCJ. 23 

w^.are every now and then leaving tranfa6lion5 L E c t, 
,unfinifhed, and are hurried from place to place, , ^^^' 
from Athens to Sicily, from thence to Pelopon- 
nefus, to Corcyra, to Mitylene, that we may 
be told of what is going on in all thefe places. 
We have a great many disjointed parts, and 
fcattered limbs, which with difficulty we colle6t 
into one body ; and through this faulty diftribu- 
tion and management of his fubje6l, that judi- 
cious Hiftorian becomes more tirefome, and lefe 
agreeable than he would otherwife be. For thefe 
reafons he is feverely cenfured by one of the beft 
Critics of antiquity, Dionyfius of Halicarnaffus*. 

The. 



* The cenfure which Dionyfius paffes upon Thucydides, ia^ 
in feveral articles carried too far. He blames him for th© 
choice of his fubjeft, as not fufficiently fplendid and agreeable, 
and as abounding too much in crimes and melancholy events^ 
4>n which he obferves that Thucydides loves to dwell. He is 
partial to Herodotus, whom, both for the choice and the con- 
duA of his fubjeft, he prefers to the other Hiftorian. It is 
true, that the fubjeft of Thucydides wants the gaiety and 
fplendour of that of Herodotus; but it is not deficient in dignity. 
The Peloponnefiail war was the conteft between two great rival 
powers, the Athenian and Lacedemonian ftates, for the empire 
of Greece. Herodotus loves to dwell on profperous incidents, 
and retains fomewhat of the amufing manner of the ancient 
. poetical hiftorians. But Herodotus wrote to the Imagination, 
Thucydides writes, to the Underftanding. He was a grave re» 
fle6iing man, well acquainted with human life ; and the melan- 
choly events and cataftrophes, which he records, are often both 
the mofl interefling parts of hiftory, and the moft improving to 
the heart. 

The Critic^s obfervations on the faulty diftribution which 
Thucydides mak^s qi his fubjed, are better founded, and 

c 4 his. 



24 HISTORICAL WRitmG. 

L ]£ c T. Xhe Hiftorian mull not indeed neglect chrono- 
V -^- 1^ logical order, with a view to render his ilarration 
agreeable. He muft give a diftinft account of 
the dates and of the coincidence of fa6ls. But 
he is not under the neceffity of breaking off 
always in the middle of tranfa6liotfs, in order 
to inform us of what was happening ellewhere 
at the fame time. He difcovers no art, if he 
cannot form fome connedtion among the^affairs 
which he relates, fo as to introduce them in a 
jproper train. He A^ill foon tire the reader, if 
he goes oh recording, in ftri6t chronological 
'order, a multitude of feparate tranfaftions, con* 
rieSed by nothing elfe, but their happening at 
, the fame time. 

^},^ ' \ Though the hiftory of Herodotus be of greater 

* .compafs than that of Thucydides, and compre- 

1- 1 hend a much greater variety of diffimilar parts, 

% ^V^ "lie has been more fortunate in joining Ihem to- 

^^ gether, and digefting thetn into order. Hence 



ins preference of Herodotus, iti this refpeft, is not unjuft— . 

V!^WY\uxtm^ yi'p^9,i ^&}tu$I}y); da-etPriq kou ivffvret^KttXtAnroi' toXXqw 
ydi^ HMra to ftUTO 9e^; xal ^ttjiAWiTft yiyvu'ixi9m o iut^ou^ toto*;, 
iluTiXnq 7cii m^oTo^ ij§a^u$ xafrtUKkVw, ttt^ t^fjerirdi rw xorw to 
ivTO ^Efo; )Utl x^f-^ yiyimimut, loXeeyatifbcGa in injdAotnet^ uxo?, x«i 
iwntxiKui TOiq SviX^fL&oig tffot^KHJoXaQyfiiv. ZviJoiGniu ^ihcuiiin fxMf 
viroQio-iv \oeJoovn ttoXXo. voinarou fxi^ri to ra o-»»fi»» Hjjworto h r»g 
voXXxg x%i &$sy cyoxuid^ vvo^ioiis «r^EiXb^iyed) dvjut^&nioy iv 0W|uiob 
weTTotTixEva*. Witli regard to Style, Dioriyfius gives Thucydides 
the juft praife of energy and brevity; but cenfures him on 
many occaiions, not without reafon, for harifh and obfcure ex- 
preifion, deficient in fmoothnefs and eafe. 

he 



\ 



HISTORICAL WRITING, 25 

he is a more pleafing writer, and gives a ftronger L E c T. 
impreifion of his fubje6l ; though, in judgment 
and accuracy, much inferior to Thucydides. 
With digreflions and epifodes he abounds ; but 
when thefe have any conne6lion with the main 
fubjefil, and are inferted profeffedly as epifode^^ 
the unity of the whole is lefi violated by them, 
than by a broken and fcatjtere^ narration of the 
principal ftory. Among the Moderns, the Pre- 
fident Thuanus has, by attempting to make the 
hiftory of his own times too pppiprehenfive, 
fallen into the fame error, erf* loading the Reader 
with a great variety of unconnedted fa6ts, going 
on together in different parts of the world j an 
^Siflodan otherwife of great probity, candour^^ 
and excefUent underftanding ; but through thi^ 
want of unity, more tedious, and leis intereftipg 
^ban he Wbuld otherwife have been. 



LECTURE XXXVi. 



} 



HISTORICAL WRITING. 

L E c T. A FTER making fome obfervations on the con- 
^^^^^^^- "^ troverfy which has been often carried on 
concerning the comparative merit of the An- 
tients and the Moderns, I entered, in the laft 
Le6lure, on the confideration of Hiftoricad 
Writing. The general idea of Hiftory is, a 
1 record of truth for the inftru6lion of mankind. 
I Hence arife the primary qualities required in a 
I good Hiftorian, impartiality, fidelity, gravity, 
\ and dignity. What I principally confidered, 
was the unity which belongs to this fort of 
Compofition ; the nature of which I have en- 
deavoured to explain. 

I PROCEED next to obferve, that in order to 

I fulfil the end of Hiftory, the Author muft ftudy 

I to trace to their Iprings the a6lions and events 

\ which he records. Two things are elpecially 

neceffary for his doing this fuccefsfuUy ; a 

thorough acquaintance with human nature, and 

political 



HISTORICAL WRITING. 27 

political knowledge, or acquaintance with L E c T 
government. The former is neceffary to ac- ^ 
count for the condu6l of individuals, and to 
give juft views of their character ; the latter to 
account for the revolutions of government, and 
the operation of political caufes on public affairs. 
Both muft concur, in order to form a completely 
inftruftive Hiftorian. 

With regard to the latter article, Political 
Knowledge, the antient Writers wanted fome 
advantages which the Modems enjoy j from 
whom, upon that account, we have a title to 
expefil more accurate and precife information. 
The world, as I formerly hinted, was more Ihut 
up in ancient times, than it is now ; there was 
then lefs communication among neighbouring 
ftates ; and by confequence lefs knowledge of 
one another's affairs ; no intercourfe by efta- 
bliflied pofts, or by AmbaiTadors refident at 
diftant courts. The knowledge, and materials 
of the antient Hiflorians, were thereby more 
limited and circumfcribed ; and it is to be 
obferved too, that they wrote for their own 
countrymen only ; they had no idea of writing 
for the inftru6lion of foreigners, whom they 
defpifed, or of the world in general ; and hence 
they are lefs attentive to convey all that know- 
ledge with regard to domeflic policy, which we, 
in diftant times, would defire to have learned 
from them. Perhaps alfo, though in antient 
ages men were abundantly animated with the 
love of liberty, yet the fuJUl extent of the in- 

1 5 fluence 



28 HISTORICAL WRITING. 

L E c T. fluence of government, and of political caufes, 
XX XVI. ^^g jjQ^ ^}|gj| f^ thoroughly fcrutinized, as it 

has been in modern times; when a long ex- 
perience of all the different modes of govern- 
ment has rendered men more enlightened and 
intelligent, with refpeft to public affairs. 

To thefe reafons it is owing, that though the 
antient Hiftorians fet before us the particular 
fafts which they relate, in a very diftindt and 
beautiful manner, yet fometimes they do not 
give us a clear view of all the political caufes, 
"which affedled the fituation of affairs of which 
they treat. From the Greek Hiftorians, we are 
^ble to form but an imperfeSl notion of the 
ftrength, the wealth, and the revenues of the 
different Grecian ftates ; of the caufes of feveral 
t>f thofe revolutions that happened in their 
government ; or of their fepatate conne45lions 
and interfering interefts. In writing the Hit 
tory of the Romans, Livy had fiirely the moft 
ample field for difplaying political kiK)wledge, 
Concerning the rife of their greatnefs, and the 
advantages or defcf6ts df their government. 
Yet the inftruftion in thefe important articles, 
which he affords, is not confiderable^ An ele- 
gant Writer hfe is, and a beautiful rfelater of 
•faiSls, if evpr there was one ; but by no means 
-diftinguiflied for profoundnefs or penetration. 
-Salluft, when writing the hiftory of a conljpiracy 
^ainft the government, which ought to have 
been altogether a Political Hiftory, hits evi- 
dently attended more to the elegance of narra- 

lo tion, 



HISTORICAL WRITING. 



29 





tion^ an4 the painting of charadters, than to the L £ c T. 
unfolding of fecret caufes and fprings. Inflead X^Vi. 
of that complete information , which we would 
naturally h£|,ve expelled from him, of the date 
of parties in Rome, and of that particular con. 
jundlure pf affairs, which enabled fo defperate a 
profligate as Q^taline to become fo formidable 
tp government;, he has given us little more than 
a general declamatory accpunt of the luxury and 
corruption of manners in that age, compared ,,f/|>f r^ 
with the fimplicity of former times. A-"^ ' /f / 

I By no means, however, mean to cenfure all 
the antient Hiilorians as defe£live in political 
information. No hiflorians can be more inflruc- 
tive than Thucydides, Polybius, and Tacitus. 
Thucydides is grave, intelligent, and judicious } 
always attentive to give very exa6l information 
concerning every operation which he relates j 
fud to fhew the advantages or difadvantages of 
^very plan that was propofed and every meafure 
that was purfued. Polybius excels in compre» 
henfive political views, in penetration into great 
lyflems, and in his profound and dillin6l know- 
ledge of all military affairs. Tacitus is eminent 
for his knowledg-e. of the human heart ; is fen* 
timental and refined in a high degree ; conveys 
much inftru6lion with refpe6l to political mat- 
ters, but more with refpefil to human nature, 

Put wh^n we demand, from the Hiftorian 
profound and inflru^ive views of his fubje6b, it 
is not xoeant ^h^t Jie ihppld be frequently inters 

rupting 



^o HISTORICAL WRITING. 

L E c T. rupting the courfe of his Hiftory, with his own 
^^^^\j refledtions and fpeculations. He fhould give us 
all the information that is neceffary for our fully 
underflanding the affairs which he records. He 
Ihould make us acquainted with the political 
conflitution, the force, the revenues, the inter- 
nal ftate of the country of which he writes ; and 
with its interefts and conne6tions in refpefib of 
neighbouring countries. He ihould place us, 
as on an elevated flation, whence, we may have 
an extenfive profpedl of all the caufes that co- 
operate in bringing forward the events which 
are related. But having put into our hands all 
the proper materials for judgment, he fhould 
not be too prodigal of his own opinions and 
reafonings. When an Hiflorian is much given 
to difTertation, and is ready to philofophife and 
Speculate on all that he records, a fufpicion natu- 
rally arifes, that he will be in hazard of adapting 
his narrative of fa6ls to favour fome fyflem 
which he has formed to himfelf. It is rather by 
fair and judicious narration, that hiflory fhould 
inflru6l us, than by delivering inflru6lion in an 
avowed and direft manner. On fome occafions, 
when doubtful points require to be fcrutinized, 
or when fome great event is in agitation, con- 
cerning the caufes or circumflances of which 
mankind have been much divided, the narra- 
tive may be allowed to fland flill for a little j 
the Hiflorian may appear, and may with pro- 
priety enter into fome weighty difcuflionl But 
he mufl take care not to cloy his Readers with, 
fuch difcufiions, by repeating them too often. 

When 



HISTORICAL WRITING. 3 ^ 

When <ibfervations are to be made concerning l E C T. 
human nature in general, or the peculiarities of xxxvi. 
certain chara6lers, if the Hiftorian can artfully- 
incorporate fuch obfervations with his narrative, 
they will have a better efFe6t than when they 
are delivered as formal detached reflexions. 
For inftance : in the life of Agricola, Tacitus, 
tpeaking of Domitian's treatment of Agricola, 
makes this obfervation; " Proprium humani 
** ingfenii eft, odifle quem laeferis*." The ob- 
fervation is juft and well applied ; but the form, 
in which it ftands, is abftra6t and philofophicaL 
A thought of the fame kind has a finer effe6t 
elfewhere in the fame Hiftorian, when ipeaking 
of the jealoufies which Germanicus knew to be 
entertained againft him by Livia and Tiberius : 
*^ Anxius," -^fays he, " occultis in fe patrui 
aviaeque odiis, quorum caufae acriores quia 
iniquae t." Here a profound moral obferva* 
tion is made; but it is made, without the appear- 
ance of making it in form j it is introduced as a 
part of the narration, in affigning a reafon for 
the anxiety of Germanicus. We have another 
inftance of tiiie fame kind, in the account 
which he gives of a mutiny raifed againft Rufus, 
who was a " PraefeftusCaftrorum," on account 
of the fevere labour which he impofed on the 






* *^ It belongs to human nature to hate the man whom you 
** haye injured.** 

f " Uneafy in his mind» on account of the concealed hatred 
^f. entertained' againft him by his uncle and grandmother^ which 
'* was the more bitter becaufe the caufe of it was unjuiL*' 

< foldiers. 



32 HISTORICAI- WRITING. 

L E C T. foldiers. *' Quippe RuiiUs, diu manipularis^ 
XXXVI. " 4ein centurio, mox caflris pra^fe£tus, anti- 

" quam duramque militiam revocabat, vetus 

" operis & laboris, et eo immitior quia tolerq^ 

" verat*.'* There was room for turning this 

into a general ohjCervation, that they who have? 

been educated and hardened in toils, are com-^ 

monly found to be the moft fevere in requiring 

the like toils from others, lixxt the manner in 

which f^citus introduces thi^ lentiment as a 

ilroke in the chara6ter of Rufps, gives it much 

more life and fpirit. This Hiftorian has s^ par^ 

ticular talent of intermixing after this ma^ijier^ 

with the courfe of his narrative, many ftriking 

lentiments and ufeful obfervatipns. 

Let us next proceed to confider the proper 
qualities of Hiftorical Narration. It is obvious, 
tihat on the manner of narration much aiuft 4e- 
pend, as the firft notion of Hiftory is the a-ec^tai 
of pp^ft fa6ls; and how ^luch Qije rspode of 
recital may be preferable to another, we fhalji 
foon be convinced, by thinking of the different 
effects, which tk^ fftm^ ftpf y^ when tftld by tw^ 
4iffer#nt perfous, is fo^nd to prQ4u,c€. 

The ^rft virtue .&f jBLiftorial Narraition, i^ 
Clearnefs, Order, and due Conne6i:ion. To attain 

* " Fjor Rufusy who had long beea n wmmon foldier, after- 
** wards a Centurion, and at length a general officer, reftore j 
« the fevere military difcipline of ^tient times, Grpwn old 
¥ amidft toils and labows, he was the jnore frigid in impofing 
^ thenu*bg!€a«fig he had beea aficuftomed tp:;k»r tbem^t' 

* this. 



HISTORICAL WRITING, 

this, the Hiftorian muft be completely mafter of L 
his fubjeft j he muft fee the whole as at one 
view; and comprehend the chain and depen- 
dence of all its parts, that he may introduce 
every 'thing in its proper place ; that he may 
lead us fmoothly along the tra^ of affairs which 
are recorded, and may always give us the fatis- 
fa6l;ion of feeing how one event arifes out of 
another. Without this, there can be neither 
pleafure nor inftru6tion, in reading Hiftory. 
Much for this end will depend on the obfervance 
of that unity in the general plan and condu6t, 
which, in the preceding Le6lure, I recom- 
mended. Much too will depend on the proper 
itoanagement of tranfitions, which forms one of 
the chief ornaments of this kind of writing, and 
is one of. the moil difficult in ^execution. No- 
thing tries an Hiftorian's abilities more, than 
fo to lay his train beforehand, as to make us 
pals naturally and agreeafcily from one part of 
bis fubje^ to another; to employ no clumfy 
and awkward junftures ; and to contrive ways 
and means of forming fome union among tranf- 
adtions, which feem to be moft widely feparated 
from one another. 



33 




In the next place, as Hiftory is a very digni- 
fied fpecies of Compofition, gravity muft always 
be maintained in the narration. There muft be 
no meannefs nor vulgarity in the ftyle; no 
quaint, nor colloquial phrafes 5 no affectation of 
pertnefs, or of wit. The fmart, or the fneering 
jnanner of telling a ftory, is inconfiftent with 

VOL. in. 9 the 



34 HISTORICAL WRITING. 

L £ c T. the hillorlcal character. I do not iky, that an 
,^^^^\ Hiftorian is never to let himfelf down. He may 
fometimes do it with propriety, in order to di- 
verfify the ftrain of his narration, which, if it 
be perfectly uniform, is apt to become tireibisie. 
But he ibould be careful never to defcend tx>o 
far ; aod^ 099 occafions where a light or ludicrouB 
anecdiOte is proper to be recorded, it is generally 
better to throw it into a note, than to hazard 
becoming too fami^r by ititrodniicing it into the 
body of tbe wodc 

BoT am Historian may fyoffefs thefe qualities 
of being perfpicuous, d«fUii6t, and grave, and 
may notwithilandiiag be a dndl Witter ; in whicii 
CdSe we Ihal'l reap little bene!fit £rom his labours. 
We (hall read him withoult pledufune ; or, moft 
INTobaHy, we fhiUi icon give over^r^uUng him 
jSit d&. He muift tibeeeifibre iftudy to render his 
tiantation interefting ; which is the quality l&at 
chiefly diftingmflies a Wtitienof gen jus and elo- 
quence. 

Two things 2Xt especially t^mdiache to this .; 
the firft is, a juft medium in the conduft of nar- 
ration, between a rapid or crowded recital of 
fa&s, and a pi^olix detaiL The foianer lemibar- 
i:a£(e6, and the latter tires ns. An Hiftoriatn 
that would intereft oia, tnulft know whem to be 
-concife, and where be <ougbt to enlai^ ; .|uif&iig 
coicifdy over flight and unianportant events, 
hat dwelling on iach as are ftriking and ceon- 
t&derable ia their nature, or pregnant with ioon- 

ifequences ; 



ibquep^^ies j prepafipg befbreh^ij.d our attention l e c T. 
iLO thexn^ and brxj^iug them forrti iflitp ]the moft ^^V^* 
fuU ^pd conjlpjtcuows ligjM^. The next thing he 
muft atjtiend to^ is a proper feleftioja pf the cir- 
fmm&mce^ j^elonglng fp tJ>Q<jB eve^jts which ^e 
^Wjfes to relate fyHy* Gener^ j^a;s rm^e ^ 
fl^ht impreflio# pa t^ mir^d. ft is l?y mean? .pjf 
x^irciimft^ces a^d p^f^icul^i^s proper).y chofen, 
th|it a xji^^tioi;! tjnecoipies intereiling ^d a^$- 
ing to the Reader. Thefe give life, bpijy, ^d 
colouring to the recital of fa6ls, and enable us 
iQ bichold ;l?heffi as^ prejfefl,t, ^nd p^ing ^jfore 
XHir ey,es. J^ is this einploy^ent qJF cir,c,ufla- 
j^ftHrQes^ ii;i N,w:atAon^ .IJjl^ is prpperjy teriped 

IjEillpiriQ^i P^iotWg- 

In all thejte virtues, of narration, particulai'ly 
ijji th^s la<l^ ,9f pi6lur^^ue 4eJfcrJLpitive Narr?.tion, 
lieye^ai of tl;ie A^^tiejit |li^;*iaps eip^^ently e^- 
.C€|^. HeDQc;, tljie ple^^r;e ,th^t is found in read- 
}ff^ Serpdotij?, Tjh^ucydidef, X;enpphofl, Livy, 
Salluil, f^ld T'^citiris. Xl;]^y are all cpnij^^icuQus 
for >the art of JJ^rirftt^on. Herodo|tus is^ at all 
times^ ^n .^ee^le Writer, ^nd fcel^tes eyery 
thing wil^^ vth^t naive^ afld iynplicity of man- 
ner, which ney€|r jfa^ls to i9t;ei;e(l tbe Eeader* 
Xbpugh the ^n^nner pf Ij^ucydides be more dry 
^^ l»arih, yet .on ,great . oqcafipn^, as whqn 
be is giving ^ accountpf the Plag\^ pf A,thens, 
tf^ Siege qf Piat?e?i, <thp Seditiop ^ ,Coi:cyj^, 
tbe Defeat qf ^the Athwi^ns ia Sicily, ^e dit 
pl^ys :?L very il^rpng and mafterly jpower of de- 
i<^;ip|;ion. Xenophon'^ Cyropaedia, and his 

D 2 Anabafis^ 



36 HISTORICAL WRItlNG. 

L E c T. Anabafis, or retreat of the Ten Thoufand, are 
extremely beautiful. The circumftances are 
finely fele6led, and the narration is eafy and 
engaging: but his Hellenics, or Continuation 
of the Hiftory of Thucydides, is a much inferior 
work. Salluft's Art of Hiftorical Painting in 
his Catilinarian, but, more efpeciaJly in his 
Jugurthine War, is well known j though his 
Style is liable to cenfure, as too ftudied and 
affedted. 

LiVY is more unexceptionable in his manner ; 
and is excelled by rio hiftorian whatever in the 
Art of Narration ; feveral remarkable examples 
might be given from him. His account, for in- 
ftance, of the famous defeat of the Roman Army 
by the Samnites, at the Furcae Caudinae, in the 
beginning of the ninth book, affords one of the 
moil beautiful exemplifications of Hifl:orical 
Painting, that is any where to be met with. We 
have firft, an exa6t defcription of the narrow 
pafs between two mountains, into which the 
enemy had decoyed the Romans. When they 
find themfelves caught, and no hope of efcape 
left, we are made to fee, firft, their aftoniftiment, 
next, their indignation, and then, theit dejec- 
tion, painted in the moft lively manner^ byfuch 
circumftances and afitions as were natural to 
perfons in their fituation. The reftlefs and un- 
quiet manner in which they pafs the night ;* the 
confultations of the Samnites ; the various mea- 
fures propofed to be taken j the meffages be- 

10 tweeu 



HISTORICAL WRITING. 37 

tween the two armies, all heighten the fcene. L e c t 
At length, in the morning, the Confuls return ^^^^ *' 
to the Camp, and inform them that they could 
receive no other terms but that of furrendering 
their arms, and paffing under the yoke, which 
was confidered as the laft mark of ignominy for 
a conquered army. Part of what then follows, 
I Ihall give in the Author's own words. " Redin- 
" tegravit lu6lum in caftris confulum adven- 
" tus; ut vix ab iis abftinerent manus, quorum 
** temeritate in eum Ipcum dedu6li eflent. Alii 
*' alios intueri, contemplari arm a mox tradenda, 
^* & inermes futuras dextras; proponere fibimet 
ipfi ante oculos, jugum hoftile, et ludibria 
vi6loris, et yultus fuperbos, et per armatos 
inerqiium itier. Inde faedi agminis miferabi- 
lemviamj per fociorum urbes reditumin pa- 
** triam ac parentes quo faepe ipfi triumphantes 
*' veniffent. Se folos fine vulnere, fine ferro, 
*' fine acie vi6tosj fibi non fl;ringere licuifle gla- 
** dios, non manum cum hofl;e conferere ; fibi ne- 
** qiiicquamarma,nequicquamvires,nequicquam 
^< animos datos. Haec frementibus, hora fatalis 
** ignominiae advenit. Jamprimum cum fingulis 
^ veflimentis, inermes extra vallum abire jufli. 
" Turn a confulibus abire li6tores juffi, paluda- 
** mentaque detra6la. Tantam hoc inter ipfos, 
** qui paulo ante eos dedendos, lacerandofque 
<« ceiifuerant, miferationem fecit, ut fuae quif- 
** que coniditionis oblitus, ab ilia deformatione 
** tantae majefliatis, velut ab nefando fpe6taculo, 
*< averteret oculos. Primi confules, prope fe- 

D 3 " minudi. 






I,|PT. «^ liiinudi, ftrt) ju^iim miffi*/' &c. Thef^ftdfthe 



* " The arrival of the Confuls in the camp, wrought up their 
« pafitons to fuch a degree, that they could fcarcely abilain 
«< from laying violent hands on them, as ty their rafhnefs they 
*< had bfeen brought into thi^ fituation. They began to look 
« on one anothef ; to caft a melancholy eye on their arm^ 
*^ which were now to be furrendercd, and on their right hands^ 
** which were to become defencelefs. The yoke under which 
'* they were to pafs ; the feoffs of the conquerors ; and their 
** haughty looks when, difarmed and ftripped^ they (hould be 
^ led through the hoftile lines ; dll rofe before thdi- eyes. They 
<* then looked forward to the fad journey which awaited them^ 
<* when they were to pafs as a vanquifhed and difgraced army 
<* through the territories of their allies, by whom they had 
'< often been beheld returning ih triiimph to their families and 
<< native l^nd. They alone, they mntterfcd to orie slnother, 
<< without an engagement, without a fingle blow, had beeh 
<* conquered- To their hard fate it fell, never to have had it 
** in their power to draw a fword, or to look an enemy in the 
<* face ; to them only, arms, ftrength, aiid courage ha^ Been 
** givbii in vdin. While they ivfere thuS giving verit to their in- 
<< di^h^tioU, thb fat^ mbitieiit of thisir i^itnny arrived. Firft, 
** they were all commanded to tome forth from the camp, with- 
^' out armour, and in a fingle garment. Next, orders were 
** given, that the Confuls (hould be left without their Lifters, 
** and that they (hould be (tripped of their robes. Such com- 
** miferation did this afiront bxcite amoilg thbhl, who^ but a 
** little before, had befen for delivering up tbofe reiy Confolfi to 
*^ the enemy, and for putting them to death, that evfery one 
*^ forgot his own condition, and turned his eyes afide from this 
*^ infamous difgrace, fuffered by the confular dignity, as from 
** a fpciftacle which was too dclettabfe tb tie behdd. The 
<< Confuls, aiinoH halt^^hakedi iMere firft iinade tb pili i^d&the 
"yoke/* &c. 

ried 



HISTORICAL WRITING. 39 

ricd on with the feme beauty, and full of pi6tu* L E c T. 
refque ckcumftances*. 

Tacitus is another Author eminent for Hifto^ 
rical Fainting, though in a manner altogether 
difierent from that of Livy, Livy's defcriptions 
are more full, more plain, and natural ; thofe of 
Tacitus confifl in a few bold ftrokes. He fele6ls 
one or two remarkable circumftances, and fets 
them before us in a flrong, and, generally, in a 
new and uncommon light. Such is the follow- 



* The defcription which Caefar gives of the cooflernatioci 
occaiioned in his campy by the accounts which were fpread 
^^long his troops, of the ferocity, the fize, and the courage 
of the Germans, affords an inflance of Hiftorical Painting, 
executed in a iimple manner; and, at the fame time, exhibit- 
ing ^ natural and lively fcene* ** Dum paucos dies ad Vefon« 
** tionem moratur, ex percun6bitione noftrorum, vocibufque 
^ Galloruin ac mercatorumi qui ingenti magnitudine corporum 
** Germanos, incredibili virtute, atque exercitatione in armis 
<< efle praedicabant ; faepe numero fefe cum iis congreffos, ne 
<< vultum quidem atque aciem oculorum ferre potuiffe ; tantus 
'* fubito terror omnem exercitum occupavit, ut non mediocri- 
<f ter omnium mentes animofque perturbaret. Hie primum 
** ortus eft a tribunis militum, ac praefe^tis, reliquifque qui ex 
** lurbe, amicitiae caufa, Caefarem fecut^ fuum periculum mi- 
** ferabantur, quod non magnum in re militari ufum habebant 
f^ quoniih aliusi, alia caufa illata quam fibi ad proficifcendum 
^ nec^JOEiam eiTe diceret, petebat ut ejus voluntate difcedere 
<<liceret. Nonnulli pudore addufti, ut timoris fufpicionem 
^ vitarent remanebant. Hi neque vultum fingere, neque in* 
<*terdum lacrymas tenere poterant. Abditi in tabemaculis, 
^<aut fuimi fatum querebantur, aut cum familiaribus fuis, 
^ commune periculum miferabantur. VulgOf totis caftris tefta- 
*< menta obfignabantur.'' Ds Bsll* Gall* L* I* 

D 4 i»g 



40 HISTORICAL WRITING. 



LEG T. 
XXXVI. 



u 



ing pidture of the fituation of Rome, and of the 
Emperor Galba, when Otho was advancing 
againft him : " Agebatur hue illuc Galba, vario 
turbae flu£tuantis impulfu, completis undicjue 
bafilicis et templis, lugubri profpe6lu, Neque 
populi aut plebis ulla vox ; fed attoniti vultus, 
** et converfee ad omnia aures. Non tumultus^ 
*' non quies ; fed quale magni metus, et magna^ 
" irae, filentium eft*.'* No image in any Poet 
is more ftrong and expreffive than this laft ftroke 
of the defcription : " Non tumultus, non quies ; 
** fed quale," &c. This is a conception of the 
fublime kind, and difcovers high genius. In- 
deed, throughout all his work, Tacitus ihews 
the hand of a mafter. As he is profound in re- 
fledtion, fo he is ftriking in defcription, and pa*- 
thetic in fentiment. The Philofopher, the Poet, 
and the Hiftorian all meet in him. Though the 
period of which he writes may be reckoned un- 
fortunate for an Hiftorian, he has made it afford 
us many interefting exhibitions of human nature. 
The relations which he gives of the deaths of 
feveral eminent perfonages are as affecting as 
the deepeft tragedies. He paints with a glow^ 



* << Galba was driven to and fro by the tide of the mi4ti« 
<< tudcy ihoying him from place to place. The temples and 
** public buildings were filled with crowds of a difmal appear- 
** ance. No clamours were heard, either from the citzensy or 
** firom the rabble. Their countenances were filled with con* 
** ftemation $ their ears were employed in liftening with anxiety. 
** It was not a tumult ; it was not quietnefs ; it was the filepce 
•* of terror, and of wrath.'* 

ing 



HISTORICAL WRITING. ^i 

ing pencil; and poffeffes, beyond all writers, LECT. 
the talent of painting, not to the imagination -^^^^^^^^ 
merely, but to the heart. With many of the 
mod diftinguiflied beauties, he is, at the fame 
time, not a perfect model for Hiftory ; andfuch 
as have formed themfelves upon him, have fel- 
dom been fuccefsful. He is to be adjaired, ra« 
ther than imitated. In his refle6lions, he is too 
refined; in his ftyle too concife, fometimes 
quaint and afre6ted, often abrupt and obfcure. 
Hiftory feems to require a more natural, flow* 
ing, and popular manner. 

The Antients employed one embellifliment of 
Hiftory which the Moderns h^ve laid afide, I 
mean Orations, which, on weighty occafions, / 
they put into the mouths of fome of their chief/ 
perfonages. By means of thefe, they diverfified 
their hiftory ; they conveyed both moral and po- 
litical inftru6lion ; and, by the oppofite argu- 
menta which were employed, they gave us a 
view of the fentiments of different parties, 
Thucydides was the firft who introduced this 
method. The orations with which his Hiftory 
abounds, and thofe too of fome other Greek 
and Latin Hiftorians, are among the moft va- 
luable remains which we have of Antient Elo- 
quence. How beautiful foever they are, it may 
be much queftioned, I think, whether they find 
a proper place in Hiftory. I am rather inclined 
^o think that they are unfuitable to it. For they 
form a mixture which is unnatural in Hiftory, 
of fi&ion with truth. We know that thefe Ora- 
tions 



4^ 



HISTORICAL WRITIKG. 



L E c T. tions are entirely of the Author's own compo- 
,^^J^^\ fition, and that he has introduced fome cele- 
brated pedbn haranguing in a public place, 
purely that he might have an opportunity of 
fliowing his own eloquence, or delivering his 
own fentiments, under the name of that perfon. 
This is a fwt of poetical liberty which does not 
fuit the gravity of hiftory, throughout which an 
air of the ftri6left truth fhould always reign. 
Orations may be an embelliihment to Hiftory ; 
fuch might alfo Poetical Compofitions be, intro- 
duced under the name of fome of the perfonages 
mentioned in the Narration, who were known 
to have poiTefied poetical talents. But neither 
the one nor the other finds a proper place in 
Hiftory. Inftead of inferting formal Orations, 
the method adopted by later Writers feems better 
and more natural ; that of the Hiftorian, on fome 
great occafion, delivering, in his own perfon, 
the fentiments and reafonings of the oppofite 
parties, or the fubftance of what was underilood 
to be Q)oken in fome public Aftembly ; which 
he may do without the liberty of fiction. 

This drawing of characters is one of the moft 
ijplendid, and, at the fame time, one of the moft 
difficult ornaments of Hiftorical Compofition« 
For characters are generally confidered as pro- 
fefled exhibitions of fine writing ; and an Hi£. 
torian who feeks to fhine in them, is frequently 
in danger of carrying refinement to excels, from 
a defire of appearing very profound and pene- 
trating. He brings together fo many contrafts, 

X 5 and 



attd fubtile opp6flticffls of qu^liti^, that we ate L E c T- 
tathtf dsiazied #ith fpaitkling expteffioiiB, than ^^^**^ 
entertained with atiy ddar cJoiiception of a bu* 
mkri tharaaer^ A Wi'ite* who would charae- 
tetiftf 'm an inftfOaive and Inafterly ifiatmer^ 
Ihould be fittiple in his ftyle, atid fhould ayoid 
all quaintnefs and affedlation ; at tbd.fatffe tlilie^ 
not contenting himfelf with giving us general 
outlines only, but defdenditlg into thole pecu- 
U^iities which itiark a tiliara6tef in its moft 
ftf oiig and dlftinaive features. The Gteik 
Hiftotians foitietiMes give eulogiutns^ but rarely 
draw full and profeffed chara^etfe* 'Thfe two 
Antient Authors who have laboured this part 
tif Hiftoi'ical Compdiition inoft^ are Salluft and 
Tacitus. 

As Hiftoty is a li)ecie8 of Writing defigned 
for the inftru6tion of mankind, found morality 
ihould allvays reign in it. Both in defcribing 
ehsLra6l6fS9 and in relating trat)fa3;ions, the 
Author Ibotild always ihow himfelf to be otl thd 
fide of virttie* To delivet* moral inftmaioii ifl 
a fbrmal manner, fklls not within his province ; 
but both a^ a good nlan^ and as a good Wi^iter^ 
iffe expetft th&t he Ihould difcover fentittienis of 
refpeS: for Vinue, and An indignation at flagrant 
Vice. To appear .netittal attd indiflefent with 
tefp<^£t to good and bad chata^ers, and to aSki^ 
a c^i*afty and political, tather than a moral turn 
nf thought, Willj befideis other bad effeftdj de^ 
rdgfatfe ^l-featly from the weight of Hiilorical 

CompofitioR, iiMd wiU render the ftrain of it 

* much 



44 HISTORICAL WRITING- 

L E c T^ much more cold and uninterefting- We are 
^^^\, always moft interefted in the tranlafilions which 
are going on, when our fympathy is awakened, 
by the ftory, and when we become engaged in 
the fate of the a6tors. But this effe6l can never 
be produced by a Writer who is deficient in fen- 
fibility and moral feeling. 

As the obfervations which I have hitherto 
Knade have moftly relpe6ted the Antient Hifto* 
rians, it may naturally be expedled that I fliould 
alfo take fome notice of the Modem3 who h^i^ve 
excelled in this kind of Writing. 

The country in Europe where the Hiftorical 
Genius has, in later ages, flione forth with moft 
luftre, beyond doubt, is Italy. The national 
character of the Italians feems favourable to it. 
They were alwp^ys diftinguiflied as an acute, 
penetrating, refleiSling people, remarkable for 
political fagacity and wifdom, and who early 
addi^ed themfelves to the arts of Writing. Ac- 
cordingly, foon after the reftoration of letters, 
Machiavel, Guicciardin, Davila, Bentivoglio, 
Father Paul, became highly confpicuous for hifl 
torical merit. They all appear to have con- 
ceived very juft ideas of Hiftory ; and are agree- 
able, inftru6live, and interefting Writers. In 
their manner of narration, they are formed upon 
the Antients ; fome of them, as Bentivoglio and 
Guicciardin, have, in imitation of them, intro.. 
duced Orations into their Hiftory. In the pro- 
foundnefs and diftin£tnefs of their political views^ 

they 



HISTORICAL WRITmO. 4S 

they may, perhaps, be efteemed to have fur- L E c T. 
paffed the Antients. Critics have, at the fame ^^°^^^ 
tinae, obferved fome imperfefilions^ in each of 
them. Machiavel, in his Hiftory of Florence, 
is not altogether fo inter efting as one would ex- 
pe6l an author of his abilities to be ; either 
through his own defe6t, or through fpme unhap- 
pinef^ in his fubjeft, which led him into a very 
minute detail of the intrigues of one city. 
Guicciardin, at all times fenfible and profound, 
is taxed for dwelling fo long on the Tufcan af- 
fairs as to be fometimes tedious ; a defeft which 
is alfo imputied, occafionally, to the judicious 
Father Paul. Bentivoglio, in his excellent 
Hiftory of the Wars of Flanders, is accufed for 
approaching to the florid and pompous manner ; 
and Davila, though one of the moft agreeable 
and entertaining Relaters, has manifeftly this 
defeft, of ipreading a fort of uniformity over all 
his chara^ers, by repfefetiting them as guided 
too regularly by political intereft. But, although 
fome fuch objedlions may be made to thefe Au- 
thors, they deferve, upon the whole, to be placed 
in the firft rank of Modern Hiftorical Writers. 
The Wars of Flanders, written in Latin by Fa- 
mianus Strada, is a book of fome note ; but is 
not entitled to the fame reputation as the works 
of the other Hiftorians I have named. Strada 
is too violently partial to the Spaniih caufe ; and 
too open a Panegyrift of the Prince of Parma. 
He is florid, diffufe, and an Ttffe6led imitator of 
the manner and ftyle of Livy. 

AMONa 



4^ IMSTORIipAI, WWT»rG. 

LEQ% Amokg jtbe French, as there ha$ been n^uch 
."^^^^ gOiOd Writjiiig in many kinds^ fo ^p in the ili£. 
|;Qri<^£j:. Th^ ingenious nation, who jki^e done 
jo ffliiK:^ honour to Modern literature, ^offk^ 
in 9>n eminent 4egree, the talent of Narratiop* 
M<tny of tA^eir l^r Hiilorical Writers »xe 
ipirited^ lively, iand agree^le; and foj^^ of 
them n<^ d^cjient in p^ofound^efi and penetra:- 
tiofiu They have not, hpwevier, pfoduced afliy 
jQach capital Hiftorians as the Italian^ whom I 
mentipn/ed above, 

OujEi Ifland, till within thefe few years, was 
not enunent for ijts hiftprical produdtions. ^arly^ 
indeed^ Scotland acq^u^ed r^epvitatiou by meafls 
of the celebrated l^ucl^an. He is an elegant 
Writer, cl^Qal in his Latinity, and agreeable 
toth in narration and .defari^tion. But one can- 
not boAt iiWpe^ hiBji 'to be more attentiye ;to ^ele- 
^ance, th^ to accuracy, Acpuftomed to form 
jhis political «iotion9 wholly upon the plans of an- 
tient go^^ernnients, the feudal fyftew feems nev^ 
Ao haye icnte^red into his .thoughts :j and as this 
iKas;thie bafis of ;the.Sc«ttilh conilitutipn, his po- 
Utiqal views ai:e, of courfe^ ina(C€urate and im- 
jperfe6t. When he ccnnes to the tranladlions of 
l>is own times, thejce is f^ch a change in his 
jQanner of writing, jand fuch -an a^wty in his 
Jftyjei;. :tha1^ on wJb^t jfide foevej .the truth lies 
with ajegard to tibofe dubious and Jong , contro- 
yei:ted fafte ^ich. wake the fulijjefil ,of that p^rt 
of his work, it is imppfldble to icjear him from 
being deeply tin6lured with the Ipirit of party. 

Among 



HI8TD1LICAL WAITING, 4Z 

Among ;the older En^ifli Hiftorians, the moft leg t, 
confiderable is Lond Clarendon. Though he ^^^^^ 
writes as the profefied apologiil of one fide, yet 
there appears more impartiality in his relation 
of fa^s than might at firft be expected. A great 
Ipirit of virtue and probity runs through his 
work* He maintains all the dignity of an Hif* 
torian. His ientences, indeed, are often toa 
long, askd his general manner is proHx.; bxit hi9 
ftyle, on itjhe whole, is manly; and r his merits 
as an Hiftoriam, is much beyond 0^diooril;y; 
Bifliop Burnet 16 lively ^aad peripocuous ) buitj^ 
has hardly any othi»: hiftorical merit, i Hi^fisyJif 
is too carelds and viamiliaf for HiAwy; h^ 
charaSfcers are, i834eed, miaiibfed with a tntAd/ianii 
ftroQg hand; iHit theyr*^^ jgen^r^aiilyijigfct.wd 
^tirical ; a^ he abouta/l^jQ lOtjiich i^ UjlitiLe Aon^ 
conjcierning himfeJf, th^ hte; r<efefsJ;de8 m<we n 
Wrifder of Memoirs than of Hiftory. I>uring n 
long ipeiiod, Engliih Hiftorical Authors feemed 
to aim at nothing higher t^an an exaS; r:dati€ai 
of &£ts.^ tilLo^ late the diftiiagu^ihed mme& of 
Hmne, Robertfon, and iGabbon, have raifed the 
Briuifh character, in this ifpecies of Writing, to 
iiigh reputation a^Eid dignity* 

I oBSERVEDt, in lihe preceditng Ledkwe, that 
Annals, Meiaoirs, and Lives, are the inferior 
kinds of Hiftorical Comjpofition. It will be pro- 
per, before difmiffing this ifubjed:, to (make a (few 
obfervations upofi them. Annais^are oommonly 
undcarfl^od to fignify a coUe^on of j&^ts, M- 

gefted 



48, HISTORICAL WRITWa 

L £ c T< gefted according to chronological order ; rathef 
^^^^^' ferving for the materials of Hiftory, than afpiring 
to the name of Hiftory themfelves. . All that is 
required, therefore, in a Writer of fuch Annals, 
is to be faithful, diflin6l, and complete. 



1 



Memoirs denote a fort of Compofition, in 
which an Author does not pretend to give full 
information of all the fa£ts refpe6ting the period 
of which he writes, but only to relate what he 
himfelf had accefs to know, or what he was con- 
cerned in, or what illuilrates the condudt of fome 
perfon^ or the circumftances of fome tranfac* 
tion, which he choofes for bis fubjedt. From 
a Writer of Memoirs, therefore, is not ex- 
pected the fame profound refearch, or enlarged 
information, as from a Writer of Hiftory. He 
is not fubje£t to the fame laws of unvarying 
dignity and gravity. He may talk freely of 
himfelf; he may defcend into the moft familiar 
anecdotes. What is chiefly required of him is, 
that he be iprightly and interefting ; and, efpe-^ 
cially, that he inform us of things that are ufe« 
ful and curious j that he convey to us fome 
fort of knowledge worth the acquiring. This is 
a Ipecies of Writing very bewitching to fuch as 
love to write concerning themfelves, and con- 
ceive every tranfa6tion in which they had a (hare 
to be of Angular importance. There is no 
wonder, therefore, that a nation fo j^rightly as 
the French Ihould, for two centuries paft, have 
been pouring forth a whole flood of Memoirs ; 

-.the 



HISTORICAL WRlf ING. 4j 

the greatert part of which dfe little more than L E c T. 
agreeable trifles: i^^^\ 

. SoMEJ, however, mtift bfe extdpted frotti this 
general charstfifcer ; two in particular; the Me- 
^birs of the Cardinal de Retz, ahd thofe of thei 
piik^ Of SnWf. From ReU's Memoirs^ bfefldes 
th^ pleifbre of Agreeable dnd lively narrsltitirii 
we may derive aHb much ih{iru6iidti, jtnd iiiticH 
knowledge of hiirhan liatUre. Though his po- 
litics be often too ifine Ipun, yet the Memoirf 
of a profefled faaiousfpadef, fftfeh is the Cal^ 
dinal was, wherein he draws both his own cha- 
rafiler, and that xjf fetefal grestt' perfdii^e^ of 
his time, fo fully; cahhot be'tfeM hf dtiyy^tCQii 
of good frehte without fceheiit. The Mfefiic^il's^ bf 
the.Duki of Sully, ih the ilaleift which the^^iffe' 
now^v^n to the Public,, have greai m^rii, ahja 
eferve to be mentioned with particular, praue^ 
No"M(?moirs approacli' moire neariy'to .the fife- 
fxilhefe, and the digiiiify of a fiiu legitimate Hit 
tory. They have' this peculiar advantage, of 
giving us a beautiful di^lay of iwo oi^fhe m 
illuftriousj cliarafilers whicH' KfEbry prefents; 
Sully hiihfelf^' oiie 6^ the atlell arid moft incor- 
rupt minifters, arid Heriry JtV, one of ihe greafeft 
and mod amiable Princes of modern times, t 
know few boo&s more full of virtue arid of good 
fenfe tlian Sully's Meiriofrsj few, therefore, 
more proper to form both the heads and the 
hearts of^ ft\cii as are defigned for public buii- 
ne&p arid a^iori, in ihe world. 

^taViik E Bio. 




5 p HISTO RICAL WRITING* 

L E e t/ Biography, or the Writrag of Lives, is a 
^^^^ •■ very ufeful kind of Compofition j lefs formal and 
ftately than Hiftory ; but to the bulk of Readers, 
perhaps, no lefs inftru6live; as it affprds them 
the opportunity of feeing thq chara6lers an4 
tempers, the virtues and failings of ^min^ntmei^ 
fully difplayed j and admits them into a mor^ 
thorough and intimate acquaiptapce . with .fuqK 
perfons, than Hiftory generally allows. For a 
Writer of Lives may defcend, with propriety, 
to minute circumftances, and faipiliar incidents. 
It is expelled Qi. him, tl^ajt he js .(:q give the pri- 
vate^ ^s. well as. the public life, of the peribu 
whofe actions he records j-^av-, i]t U frpfti private 
life, irom fami|i3,r, dom^ftic, and feemingly 
triviaroccurrences, that we often receive moffi 
light into the real chara6ler.. If^ this Ipecie^ oJf 
Writing, Hutarch has no fm all* merit; and to 
him .we ftand indebted for much of the know^ 
ledge that , we poffefs, concerning feveral o^ the 
mcy| einine^it perfonage^ pjf antiquity. His nia£» 
ter' is, liicteed,' better thari llis manner; as h^ 
cannot lay clai?h to any peculiar beauty or ele- 
gance. ' His 'judgment too, and lifs accuracy^ 
have fometimes been taxed; but wfe^tever de- 
fe6ts of this kind he hiay be liable to,, bis Lives 
of Eminent Men will always be cdnfidered as a 
valuable treafure of inftru6lion. He is remark-, 
able for being one of the moft hunja'ne Writer^ 
of all antiquity ; lefs dazzled than many of them 
are, witli the exploits ^of valour apd ambition j 
and fond of difplaying his great men: is> us^ in tlie 
more gentle lights of retireriient an^pfivatfe life; 



irJiiistijiN^lOrirriiloncIude the fubje6l of HiftotyjXE c T, 
^MdWi'QiitirtJil^ing,, notice of a very great improve- ^xxvi. 
"n^f^tf^MQhlh&Sty' of late years, begun to bd ini- 
t;o4iAf ^ ^lx> jHiftorical 'Compofition ; I mean, 
at)ltK>§^ipiarticliilar \attention than was formerfy 
-given to laws, cuftoms, commerce, re%io>Hi 
literature, and every other thing that tends to 
fliow the fpirit and genius of nations. It is now 
underftood to be the bufinefs of an able Hifto- 
jian to exhibit manners, as well aa fa6ts and 
jeventsj and affuredly, whatever difplays the 
ftate and life of mankind, in different periods, 
jand illuftrates the progrefs of the human mind, 
is more ufeful and interefting than the detail of 
fieges and battles. The perfon, to whom we 
are moll indebted for the introdu6lion of this 
iimprovemept into Hiftory, is the celebrated 
M. Voltaire, whofe genius has flione with fucli 
furprifing luftre, in fo many different parts of 
literature. His Age of Louis XIV. was one of 
the firft great produ6lions in this tafte ; and foon 
drew throughout all Europe, that general atten- 
tion, and received that high approbation, which 
fo ingenious and eloquent a produ6lion merited. 
His Effay on the general Hiftory of Europe, fince 
the days of Charlemagne, is not to be confidered 
either as a Hiftory, or the proper plan of an 
Hiftorical Work ; but only as a feries of obfer- 
vations on the chief events that have happened 
throughout feveral centuries, and on the changes 
that fucceffively took place in the fpirit and 
manners of different nations. Though, in fome 
jdates and fa6ts, it jmay, perhaps, be inaccurate^ 

£ 2 a^d 

d 



52 



UISTORICAL WILITINCt 



L B c T. and IB tinged with thofb ]tertioulariti« wfaith 
x^^^vi. unhappUy diftinguifli VdtaireV mqvtidr df thittk^ 
ing on religious fub|e6ts, yet it costdiiii^ lfi> triUi^ 
enlarged and inftru6Hve Views/a^jiifttf toUfH^t- 
the attention of all vrho cither rekdbff Write tb« 
Hiftory of th^e ages« 



»M 



1 









.f ■ 






■ « 



.- ^ 



hiiimmmiaw0mfefsniifsmaB9i 



LECTURE XXXVII. 



PHILOSOPHICAL WRITING — DIALOGUE ~ 
EPISTOLARY WRITING — FICTITIOUS HIS- 
TORY, 

AS Hiftory is both a very dignified fpecies L E c T^ 
of Compofition, and by the regular form ^°^^- 
which it aflumes, falls directly under the laws 
of Criticifm^ I difcourfed of it fully in the two 
preceding Le6lures. The remaining fpecies 
of Compofition^ in Proie^ a|S>fd leia room for 
critical obfervation. 

F^LoscuPHic^L Writings fbjr inftance, will trot 
lead us into any long difcufiion. As the profeflTed 
jQhjeA of Philofbphy is to convey inftru^tion, and 
BB they who iludy it are fiippo&d to do fo for 
inftru&ion^ not for entertainment^ the ftyle, the 
form, ^nd drefii of fuoh Writings, are lefs mate- 
rial oh9e3;s. They are objects, however, that 
muil not be wholly, ne^efted. He who attempts 
to inftruft mantdnd, without fludying, at the 
&me time^ ta engage their attention, and to 
interefti tiieeqi in ^ fubje& by his manner of 

£ 3 exhibiting 



.T ■• 



^4 PHILOSOPHICAL WRITIK'6'. 

tECT. «3di:ibitHig it, is' not likely to prcKwarfecc^^trf.' 

AAAvu. rpj^g {jgnne truths, and reafonings, delivered in a 
dry and cold manner, or with a proper meafure 
of elegance and beauty, will make very different 
impreffioBS on the-mindscofrmen. ; ^ .^ ; 

It is manifeft that every Philofophical Writer 
inuft ftudy the utmoll.'peiipicuity: and, by re- 
fle6ling on what was formerly delivered on the 
fubjedl of perfpicuity, with refpefl: both to lingle 
words, and the conftru^ion of ^nteijwjes, we 
may be convinced that this . is a .iliicjy, which 
demands confiderable attention to the xulei* of 
Style, and good Writing. Beyond mere perfpi- 
cuity, llri6l accuracy and precrfion are required 
in a Philofophical Writer. He muft employ no 
words of uncertain meaning, no:loble nor inde- 
terminate expreffions ; and fliouldf avoid uling 
words which are feemingly fynonymous, withodt 
carefully attending to the variation which they 
make upon the idea. 

To be clear then and^preciffe, is one requifite 
wiiich we have a title to demand from every Hn- 
loibphical Writer. He may^poffefs this quality^ 
and be at the fame' time a Tery dry Writer, r He 
ihould therefore ftudy fome degree of embellifb- 
ment^ in order to render, his compofition pleaiing 
and gracefuL' One of the moid' agreeable, and 
one of thd mbft ufefuL em)bellifliments which a 
Philofopher can employ,' confifts in illuftrations 
taken from hiftorical £i6%s^ and the cham6lersxif 
'men^ All moral and. political fubjeSta' natursLlly 
'v i i i i^j > afibrd 



PHILOSOPHICAL WRITmci. ^ 55 

.... . . • • 

mTord fcope for thefe ; and wherever there is t E c Tr 
i*6om for employing them, they feldom fail of ^^^^^^* 
producing a happy efFe6l. They diverfify the 
Compofition; they relieve the mind from the 
fatigue of mere reafoning, and at the fame time 
raife more full convidlion thari any reafonings 
produce : for they take Philofophy out of the 
abflra^, and give weight to Speculation, by 
Ihewing its connedtion with real life, and the 
anions of mankind, ' 

Philosophical Writing admits befides of ^ 
poliflied, a neat, and elegant ftyle. It admife 
of Metaphors, Comparifons, and all the calm 
Figures of Speech, by which an Author may 
convey his fenfe to the underftandirig with 
clearnefs and force, at the fame time that he 
entertains the imagination^ He muft take great 
care, however, that all his ornaments be of the 
chailell kind^ never partaking of the florid or 
the tumid ; which is fo unpardonable in a pro- 
feffed Philofopher, that it is much better for 
him to err on the fide of naked fimplicity, than 
on that of too much ornament. Some of the 
Antients, as Plato and Cicero, have left us Philo- 
fophical Treatifes Compofed with much elegance 
and beauty. Seneca has been long and juflly 
cenfured for the afie6lation that appears in his^ 
Style. He is too fond of a certain brilliant afld 
fparkling manner ^ of antithefis and quaint fen- 
iences. -It cannot be denied, at the fame time, 
that he 6ften expreffes himfelf with much live- 
^inefs aAd force j though his Style, upon the 
r; ' E 4* whole. 



^6 PlffLOSpPHJCAL WI^ITf^S. 

LECT. ivhole^ xsi % p:QVf\ deferyjjig ipiitatipn. In 
ff^ ^'. EqgUfl^^ ijf r. jLocke's celiejirated Jrejitife on 
Huipai:^ tfpderft^nding, may bp pointp(3[ out 
^8 ^ modpl^ qn the one bapd, of t^e greateft 
pjparnefe and diflindlnefif of Philpfophical Style, 
^ith very little appi'o^ch to orj^ament; J^Qffi 
Shaflpfhury's Writings, on the othef hand, ex- 
hibit Philofophy dreflTpd up with all the qrnarnent 
which it can admit ; perhaps with more than h 
perfectly fuited to it. 

PuiLQSQPuicAL Cpippofition fometiines af- 
fume$ a form, under >(Vhich it mingles piorp 
lyiti^ works of tafte, when c^f ripd on in the w^y 
of Dialogue apd Gqnverfation. Under t^iis form 
;^he Antipnts have given us fome of their chief 
Philofophical Works; ^nd feveral of the A^pdeyns 
have endeavoured to imitate them. Diajogpp 
\yriting may be executed in two ways, either as 
direct converfatippt where none but the Speakers 
appear, which \s the method tl]at Plato ufe? ; 
pr as the recital of a pqpverf^tioD, where \Yi§ 
Authpr himfelf appear^, i^nd givps ^n account 
of what pafled in djfpQurfe; which is the mptho^ 
that Cicero generally fpllows. But thpiigh thpfe 
different methods ma^:e fome yarjatipn in thg 
fprn^, yet t]\e nature pf the CqmppfiUQn is at 
bottorji^ thp fani^ in hqthj ^n4 fubje^ tq thp 
f^me law?4 

A E(|AtQpuE, in. we. or qt\[&; pf thefe fprm^, 
on fome phiiofophicft], piQ|i|l,. Qf pritiqal Albje^ 
when ^t is yi(e\] cqndui^e^y ftand$ \\[ a high ra^i^ 

16 amoDgf 



©lALOGUl. J7 

aipoog th^ Wqrki; c^f T^iftp ; ]mt i^ much more i, b G t. 
4f^cult in th^ exeeiition th%a ig cQinmonly ^ckxto. 
^nagine4t fV>r it redMires sior@, than merely 
th^ iptf pfiy^ipn of di^er^pt perfoq^ fpeaking in 
ftfcceflipii, It ought tQ be 4 natural and fpirited 
repr^fentation of resal cpnyerfs.tion j exhibiting 
t:h0cbarfi^eran4 mftnnprspf the feyer^ Speakers, 
ftnd ft|iting tp tb^ cbara^$!r pf each that pecu- 
liarity of tbpugbt and ^ypreflipn which diftin- 
gullheq bim frpi» anpthpr. A Dialogue, thus 
pfin4ii#§d, gives tbp Bearer a VPfy agreeable 

gjllertainment; ^ by rapans pf the debate going 
m amiapg the perfonage^, b$ vmmm a fair and 
^;^U view <4' bptfe fidps pf tfep apgnment j and ia, 
a^t the fawe time, aroiifed ^itb pelite eonverfaf 
tiqn, ^ad with a dii^lfty flf pfipfiflgBt and weil- 
fqpport«4 pb^afi^erss An Antbpr, tbepefore, 
vbp b«9 geqiug fbr e^c^putiRg fuch a ^qpippfition 

after this manner, has it in his power both to 
inftEu^.?ip4tQple3fe.. 

Bgi tbp gseft^pft part «f Mo4^fn £))alpgu« 

'^itef^ bft¥? no idea pf any Cppipofttiop of this 
fprt J ^nd bating the qvjt^a^d foj?in« pf €pnve*far 
tipn, ^pd thjit ppf) fpeak^, ap4 «nolber anfwiersi, 
it is quit^ tbp laflae m if tjlfi AutbflT fpoke in 

perfpn ^hrpiigboHt; th# wbftle^ He fet» up a 
f^hiltttbe>|s, p^rbftp?, and a Pbilatbeoa, or an 
4 «Ma4 ^ B i lYbpj ^ftf? mutpal cprnpUroents, 

and aftfir admiring the fineftefft pf the momiag 
or pvepipg, $^p4 thp beaqty pf the prt)fpa6ts 
{(rpup4 tbep»4 ^ptpr intp conference concejciiing 
fm9 g{%ve loattf r » and aU that we know iariher 

of 



^ DlAtOOU 

1 E C T. of ihpm is, tiiat the one perfonates the Aiithof^ 
^^^^^" a man of learning, no doubt, and of good prin* 
ciple» ; and the other is a man 6f ftraw, let up 
to propofe fome trivial objections : over which 
the firlt gains a mod entire triumph, and le9.ves 
his fcepticd antagonifl at the end much hum- 
bled, and, generally, convinced of hid error. 
This a very frigid arid infipid manner of writings 
the more fo, as it is an attempt toward fome^^ 
thing, which we fee the Author cannot fupport* 
It is the form, without the fpirit of converfation. 
The Dialogue ferv^s no purpofe, but to make 
aukward interruptions; and we Ihould with mote 
patience hear the Author continuing always t6 
reafon himfelf, and to remove the obje6fcionii 
that are made to his principles, than be troubled 
with the unmeaning appearance of two perfons, 
whom we fee to be in reality no more than one'* 

Among the Antients, Plato is eminent fdr the 
beauty of his Dialogues. The fcenery, and the 
circumftances of many of them, are beautifiilly 
painted. The chara6lers of the Sophifts, with 
whom Socrates difputed, are Well drawn; a 
variety of perfonages are exhibited to us ; we 
are introduced into a real converfation, often • 
fupported with much life and Ipirit, after the 
Socratic manner. For richnefi and beauty of 
imagination, no Philofophic Writer, Antient or 
Modern, is comparable to Plato. The only fault 
of his imagination is, fuch an excefs of fertility 
as allows it fometimes to obfcure his judgments 
It frequently carries him into AUegeiy, Fi6feJ6tifJ 

15 Enthuiiafm^ 



Efatlnifiafin^ ^and the .airy regions tof Myflic^fi i^id/t* 
Theology. The Phitofbpher is^ at times, loft in ^^^^^n. 
the EoeU But whiether we tie edi^d with the 
matter or not,''(ahd much edification he often 
affords,) we are always entertained with th6 
manner } and left with a ftron^ impreffion of th^ 
fublimity of the Author'* genius. 

CicEao- s Dialogues, or thofe recitals of con* 
verfations which he has introduced into feveral 
of his Philofophical and Critical Works, are not 
fo fpirited, nor fo charadleriftical as thofe of 
J^ato* Yet fonie, as that " De Oratore" efpe^ 
cially, are agreeable and well fupported. They 
ihew us converfation carried on among fome of 
the principal pferfons of Aftciefit Rome^ with 
frieedom, good-breeding, and dignity. The 
Author of the elegant Dialogue " De Caufis 
Corrupt® Eloquentiae," which is annexed fome- 
times to the works of Quiii6lil'ian, and fome* 
times to thofe of Tacitus, has happily imitated^ 
perhaps has excelled Cicero, in this manner of 
writing. 

LuciAN is a Dialogue Writer of much emi^ 
* hence ; though his fubje6ts are feldom fuch ^s 
catti entitle him to be ranked* among Philofophi- 
cal Authors. He has given the model of thei 
light and humorous Dialogue, and has carried it 
to great perfe6lion. A chiarafter of levity, arid 
at the fame time of wit and penetration, diftin- 
guifhes all his^writings. His great objafib was^ 
to expofe ithe>^foUieii^ of fuperftiticm, .ftnd th^ 
<:; ':^**?* Pedantry 



j$9 DIALOGUE* 

X, £ G 7. Padt^try of PhilQfbpby, which pcevailed in his 
^-y Z? Age ; ^nd he cpuld not have taken . ai|y mDre 
fucoe&ful method for thia end^ than what he has 
eiQployed in his dialogues, efpecially in thofe of 
the Gods and of the Dead, which are full of 
pleafantry and fat^. In this invention of Dia^- 
logues of the Dead, he has been followed by 
feveral Modern Authors. Fontenelle, in par* 
ticular, has given us Dialogues of this fort, which 
ftrp fpTightly aijd agreeable ; but as for charac- 
ters, whpever hh perfbpages be, they all become 
Frenchinen i» hm handst Indeed few things in 
(^ompofitiou ure more diiicult, than in the courih 
of 9 Mqr^il Dialogue to e:i^hibit ch^a^ers pro- 
pei'ly diilinguiChed. As calm conversation fur* 
fn&es none of thofe afiiftancea for bringing cha- 
rters ipta light, whiph the aSive fcenes, and 
^nterefling fitu^tionsof the DraQ^a, afiord. Hente 
few Authors aie emineut fprChaxafteriftical Dia- 
Iqgue on grave fubje^s* Ctoe of the moft re^ 
IQ^kaUe in t]m Bugliih Language, is a Writer 
pf the l%& ^e, Dr^ Henry More» in his pivine 
Dialogues, relating to the foundations of Natural 
Religion. Though his Style be now in fome mea- 

fur^i Qbfol^e, aid his Sp^fcers be marked with 
^Q Apademiq ftifnefc Qf thofe times, yet the • 
DialQgUfi is animated by a variety of chara&er 
^d 9 fprigh^ineft of Conveifation, beyond 
Yfh9^^ we fiflmwpply met with in Writings erf* 
this l^iadf Kfli^p Berhelejp^s Dialogues caa* 
Cierning the e»ftence of matter^ da not attempt 
swjydifpl^ ojf Cl|p.rallersj lomtfimnfli an inftance 
9f ^ MfSy ftbAl»d^ ihbjedk^ ie»dered clear and 

intelligible 



intdUgible by iii&tos <^ GinlV^if^tioii pibptvlf tttr. 



i ! 



I PBOCEED next to make fome obfervations on 
E^ftdl^r^ #f kiiig i wlfi^b iidflefles it Icind of 
middle ]^mii iit%W6iA thie f^noiis i^tid dmuOn^ 
fpetfie^ of C^th^^dfl:' E^iftol^fy WHting ajt*' 
pekrt, at ffi:ft tfe^, tb 'ftretdH Wto * rcJiy widfe 
fid*; -5J\ir rirefti ii-nd fubjea' wMt&r^, dtt^ 
v^ieh'tia^^hiay hotifott^y fii^ thorightS toihd 
Piitefc,'fh thBfbrni^fialfetteh £dfd Shafteft 
biiryi fef fiftlahtfe, Mh Harris, and ffeVfei'al other 
Wtad-sl^fcaV^^cftbren to^e this fbnh t6 |riiflo- 
Xo^Uical-ti^aidfbs; - 'Bttir ihii is not ftiffid^tit to 
clkffifeiH^rfeatife^' titiA^ 'the head rffiplftobry 
Comi)<JIH5Bft-' 'nioft0 theyb^af, in tht titles 
p^, aLef^ier tbi if Fmd,' met ihb&th Mdrefki 
the Friend difdjipejii^, ahd tr^ fbe thai: it is, iti 
troth- th^'PiiMic With Whom the Author corte- 
fpohtib. Seheca*s EJrittles ai% of this fort. 
TheTk is tiii jiMbabflity thdt they evet i»afled in- 
correQwhdfehde as real lettdts. They are nor 
othe^ thad 'iiiifcetlaheotis difl^rtsttiotts on moraT' 
fubjefts J M^idh the Author, for his cidiivenience, ' 
chofe to p\ii itito the epiftolary form. Even 
where one writes a real letter on fome formal 
topic, as of moral or religious confolation to sL 
perfon under diftrefs, fuch as Sir William Temple 
has written to the Countefs cf Effex on the 
death of her daughter, he is at liberty, on fiich 
occaflons, to write wholly as a Divine or as 
a Philofopher, and to aflume the ityle and man- 
nef pf one, without teprehenfion. We confider 

the. 



6^> EPISTALARY :?VRITING. 

L i: c T. the iV\iti.or ppt as writings a J^tier^ but as cpm^ 
X^xyiji,, pQfin^ a'Difcourfe, fuited particularly to » the 
'circumftances of fome one perfon. 

Epj^fTpLAHY Writing bepome^da 4ift|n^^ieC}i^p: 
of compofition, fuj^jeft Jx^tljecogniizancp of Ci^t^ 
ticifm, qnlyf c^ phieflj^^ whpnit^^ of th^ pafy anijlf 
faifliUap kiUid j* )yhea il^^^ift cpnyeyl^tiou cfrriedqi^^ 
upon |Wf^r, :betwe^;qj,j^wQ . ;frjiend$. ^t a^ j^iftanqp^, , 
Suf^v^n intereojur^j wj^.weU popdufi^edj.pj^y,, 
be repdei^ T^ry agreeable^ ^lo Readers of t^^\ 
If ,t^\9 ftibjefl: ipf the letters ]be import^ntij tl^^y^j 
will bpfthe piorevalusiblep^* JEv^n though tlij^/ 
IJiould, be noticing verj^^confiderable i^^ thejfifb-j 
je6l, jet.if the fpirit im^ iurnpf t^e. cqrr?;^^ 
depce he agreeable ; if th^y be written . ii^. a; 
Iprighfcly inaQner^ and with native grace txfxd 
eafe^ they. ,iinay i3till be entertaining; more|J 
especially if therq be any thing to iptereft uj^^jj 
in the chara&ers of thofe who write them. 
Hence the curiofity which the Public Jias always 
difcovered, concerning the Letters of eminent . 
perfons. We expeft in them to diipoyer fomer 
what of their real charafter. It is, childifh 
indeed to expe6l, that in Letters we are to find 
the whole heart of tlie Author unveiled. Con- 
ceaiment and difguife take place, more or left, 
in all human intercourfe. But ftill, as Letters 
from one friend to another make the neareft ap- 
proach to converfation, we may expe6l to fee 
more of a charaiSler difplayed in thefe than in 
other produ6li()ns, which are ftudied for public 
view. We pleafe ourfelves with beholding the 

writer 



i;PISTOLARY ; WRITINO, fit, 

Arriter^in a fituatipn which allows him to be at L E c t. 
his eafe, ^ad to give, vent occafionally to the ^'^Y^ 
overflowings of his heart. 

-.. 'f -.T • . - • ' . ; - ■,;.■:,.■] 

i^fuf^i, therefore, of the^naerit, and the agree*- 
ablenj^s of Epiftolary Writings will depend on it3 
introducing us.intpfp^ acquaintance yrith th^ 
^jV'rit^jr; , J Th^e, if; ; apy . yrji ^rje, we Iffok for the 
l^pji^^^t for the A|titl]ipr. Its firjj and funda* 
ij;^njtal reguifite is,, to be, natural and fimple j for 
a fliffani^, laboured manner isa3 bad in a Letter, 
as it is. in jCquverfation. This does, not bani£h. 
fprj^htliqef^/and yirit... . Thqfe are graceful in| 
L^tt^i;i?j juft as tbey^fije in^ (>nveri^tio^;]:Yfbe^^ 
tljeyv^.flow. e^ijij ;^^ witjiout beiijg. Jftudied j . 
when employed io as to ffeafoii, ;aot,.t9i doy. 
One who, either in Gonverfation or inlHetters,- 
ajSefts to Ihine and tct.fp^rkl^ alwaysjj ^ will not^ 
piea^ long. The %le '9jf , I^etters (bould ^ot 
h^e too highly poliljied. ; It, ought to be neat and 
Qprre^^ l)ut no more. .All nicety aboi^t yrords^ . 
betrays !p:\idy ; and hence mufical periods, and 
appearances of number a];id harmony in arrange-' 
ment, fhould be carefully avoided in Letters, 
The bell Letters are commonly fuch as the 
Authors have written with mod facility. What 
the he^r.t or the imagination di6lates, alway$ 
flows refidily i but where there is no fubjedl to . 
warm or interefl: thefe, confl:raint appears j and 
l\ence, thpfe Letters of mere compliment, con- 
gratulation, or afiedled ^oijdolence, which have 
cqA^ ,the Ai^thors mofl: labour in compofing, and 
iybich,fp^ that reafon, tl^ey perhaps confider hs 

their 



*■ 



^4 Etl^TOLARY WRllfiNA 

LEG T. theif rtiafter-pfecefe, nfevet fail df being the iwdft 
^^^"^ dilkgreeible and Irtfipitt to' iU Rfeader s. 

It ought, at the fame time, to be remembered, 
that the ciafe and fimplicitf whicli Ili'av^ rfetbm- 
ihehdedia Epiiftolar} CoYreQidHdence, ^ i^^ not 
to b6 trhdferftodd iH fnipurtirig etttirii carelefll 
nfeiS. Iti Writing Bteeitioffinf^ffl^^ 
eeftalti degree tof trttentibii. Both to the flibje^ 
aftd Ihfe ftyife, is i^equHlte dnd befcotniiig. It U 
ltd i&6te thdn what \^6 o^e both to odHelves, 
dtid to the fi^end \^ith white tire corf-fefpbhd; A' 
fldvfeiily ^nd negligent matiiher of Writing, is i 
di&ki^tt^mitk of wailt Bf tefpeft. fhe libeiiyj 
befedes, of iirriting Lidttfer^ 1*ith too cardlefe a 
h^d, ih aptfo betray jpferfon^ iiito itiijiriidtfrice 
in what they write. The firft req(ilifite, tidth Ifr 
cohvferfetidn and correQ)i6rfrfeiice, i^ to attetid to 
all tlife prf bper dedofumis whieh tnir own fchai^atJ* 
ter, atfd that of dth^fsI^'demaAfd. An imprudent 
eiprdflBoti in converfition may be forgotteiri stiid 
pafi B,^By ; but WheA tve take the peri htttf 6trf 
hafidi i*e itiuft i^rfteteib^, tMt, ^\UUtk€ctiptM 
rafelief ■ ■ ' - ■: '■•*■' ^■■■■•- ' 

I^liny's Letters are one of the nidft celebrated 
coDefltions which the Antients have given liS, in* 
the epiftolary way; Itliey are elegant and pd- 
lite ; and exhibit a very pleafing and aihiable 
vie\ir of the author. But, according to thd* 
vulgar phrafe, they fmfell too much of the latii^; 
They a^e too elegant and fine ; atld it iS. 
not eafy to avoid ihiriiking, that the Atithc* ti 

calling 



EPISTOLARY WRITING. 6$ 

calling an eye towards the Public, when he is L E c T, 
appearing to write only for his friends. Nothing ^^^^^** 
indeed is more difficult, than for an Author, 
who publifhes his own Letters, to diveft himfelf 
altogether of attention to the opinion of th^ 
world in what he fays; by which means, he be- 
comes much lefs agreeable than a man of part* 
would be, if, without any conftraint of this fort, 
be were writing to his intimate friencj, / 

Cicero's Epiftles, though not fo fhowy as 
thofe of Pliny, are, on feveral accounts, a far 
more valuable coHe^ion ; indeed, the maft va- 
kiable colle6lion of Letters extant in any lan- 
guage. They are Letters of real bufinefs, writ.- 
ten to the greateft men of the age, compofed 
with -purity and elegance, but without the lead 
affectation ; and, what adds greatly to their 
merit, written without any intention of being 
pubiifhed to ihe world. For it appears, that 
Gicero never kept copies of -his own Letters j 
and we are wholly indebted to the care of his 
freed-man Tyro for the large colle6lion that was 
made, after his death, of thofe which are now 
extant, amounting to near a thoufand.*. They 
contain the mofl authentic materials of the 
hiftory of that age ; and are the laft roon^ment* 






.* See his Letter to Atticui, whiph was written a year or' 
^wo before his deaths in which he tells him, in anfwer to fome 
enquiries concerning his Epiftles^ that he had no coUediion of 
thitaf and that Tyro had only about fj^venty of them* 

.;; Jii ^ ' .-r '.: , ,;;-•;»:'?:• Ad Att, 16. C," 

* iyoL. in. F • whiclj 



66 EPISTOLARY WRITINQ. 

L E c T. ythich remain of Rome in its free ftate ; the 
* greateft part of them being written during that 
important crifis, when the Republic was on the 
point of ruin ; the moil interefting fituation, 
perhaps, which is to be found in the affairs of 
mankind. To his intimate friends, efpeciaUy 
to Atticus, Cicero lays open himfelf and hii 
heart, with entire freedom. In the courfe of 
his correfpondence with others, we are intro- 
duced into acquaintance with feveral of the 
principal perfonagei^ of Rome ; and it is remark- 
able, that moil of Cicero's correfpondents, as 
well as himfelf, are elegant and polite Writers ; 
which ferves to hefghten our idea of the taft^ 
and manners of that age. 

The mofl diftinguiihed Colle6tion of Letters 
in the Engliih Language, is that of Mr. Pope, 
Dean Swift, and their friends ; partly publifhed 
in Mr. Pope's Works, and partly in thofe of 
Dean Swift. This colle6lion is, on the whole, 
an entertaining and agreeable one; and con- 
tains much wit and refinement* It is not, how- 
ever, altogether free from the fault which I im- 
puted to Pliny's Epiilles, of too much ftudy and 
refinement. In the variety of Letters from dif- 
ferent perfons, contained in that Colle6lion, we 
find many that are written with eafe, and a 
beautiful fimplicity. Thofe of Dr. Arbuthno t, 
in particular, always deferve that praife. Dean 
Swift's aJfo are unaffe6led; and as a proof of 
their being fo, they exhibit his chara^er fully, 
with all its defeats; though it were to be willed, 

lo for 



EPISTOLARY WRITING. ^j 

for the honour of his memory, that his Epiflo^ L e c T* 
lary Correfpondence had not been drained to ^^^^xxyn> 
the dregs, by fo many fucceflive publications as 
have been given to the world. Several of Lord 
Bolingbroke's, and of Bifhop Atterbury's Let* 
ters, are mafterly. The cenfure of writing Let^ 
tirs in too artificial a manner falls heavieft on 
Mr. Pope himfelf. Tliere is vifibly more iludy^ 
and lefs of nature and the heart in his Letters, 
than in thofe of fome of his correlpondents. He 
had formed himfelf on the manner of Voiture, 
and is too fond of writing like a wit. His Let* 
ters to Ladies are full of affe^lation. Even in 
writing to his friends, how forced an Introduc- 
tion is the following, of a letter to Mr. Addifon : 
** i am more joyed at your return, than I ihould 
** be at that of the Sun, as much as I wifh for 
** him in this melancholy wet feafon ; but it is 
" his fate too, like your's, to be difpleafing to 
" owls and obfcene animals, who cannot bear 
^* his lullre." How ft iff a compliment it is 
which he pays to Bifhop Atterbury ! " Though 
^ the noife and daily buftle for the Public be 
** now over, I dare fay you are ftill tendering 
•* its welfare j as the Sun in winter, when feem- 
** ing to retire from the world, is preparing 
^< warmth and benedi&ions for a better feafon.*' 
This fentence might be tolerated in a harangue ; 
but is very unfuitable to the Style of one friend 
correfponding with another. 

The gaiety and vivacity of the French genius 
appear to much advi^tage in their Letters, and 

F 2 have 



6t EPISTOLARY WRITING. 

L E c T. have given birth to feveral agreeable publiciu 
3DDCVH>^ tions. In the laft age, Balzac and Voiture wete 
the two moft celebrated Epiftolary Writers, 
Balzac^s reputation indeed foon declined, on 
account of his fwelling periods and pompous 
Style* But Voiture continued long a favourite 
Author. His Compofition is extremely fpav^* 
ling ; he (hows agreat deal of wit, and can trifle 
in the moft entertaining manner. His only 
fault is, that he is too open and profefled a wit 
to be thoroughly agreeable as a Letter Writer. 
The Letters of Madam de Sevigne are nojir 
efteemed the moil aecompliflied model of a &p 
miliar correfpondence. They turn indeed very 
much upon trifles, the incidents of the day, ^ai^d 
the news of the town ; and they are overloaded 
with extravagant compliments, and exprel&ons 
of fondnefs, to her favourite daughter; but 
withal, they fliow fuch perpetual fprightlinefs, 
they contain fuch eafy and varied narration, and 
fo many fl^rokes of the mofli lively iind beautiful 
painting, perfe6lly free from any affedlatioDi, 
that they are juftly entitled to higb praife. The 
letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montague are 
not unworthy of being named after thofe of 
Mad. de Sevigne. They have much of the 
French eafe and vivacity j and retain more the 
chara^er of agreeable Epiftolary Style, than 
perhaps any Letters which have appeared in the 
Englifli language* . ■ , i ' 

There, remains to be treated of, another Spe- 
cies of Compofition . m f rafe» which compr^ 

bends 



FICTITIOUS HISTORY4 6^ 

hends a very numerous, though, in general, $ l E c T, 
very iiifignificant clafs of Writings, known by XXXVH. 
the name of Romances and Novels. Thefe may, 
kt firft view, feem too infignificant to deferve 
that any particular notice fliould be tajcen of 
them. But I cannot be of this opinion. Mr, 
Hetcher of Salton, in one of his Tra6ls, quotes 
it as the faying of a wife man, that give him the 
ihaking of all the ballads of a nation, h^ would 
allow any one that pleafedto make their la\ys» 
The feying was .founded on refle6lion and gpod 
fenfe, and is- applicable tO; the fubje6l now be* 
Hwre uSi :For any kind of Writing, how trifling 
tbeVerin appearance, that obtaix^ a general curt 
kencyi*and 'Specially that early pre-occupies the 
innagulatioh of the youth of l^ath fe^i^es, muft de-> 
tiialid particular attention. Its influence isiikely 
lobefconfidiefrablie^ both on the morals atidt^ft^ 
•ofTa nation* /; * 

• >fd[«!'fe^Pi6litious Hifl:ories might be employed 
&riviery.ufeful purpofes. They furnifli orle of 
thebeflijchannels for conveying infl:ru6lion, for 
jiainting: humian . life and manners, for fliowing 
the errors into which we are betrayed by our 
palfions, for rendering, virtue amiable and vice 
odious, 'i The eflfedt of well-contrived fl:ories, 
towards! aecomplifliing thefe purpofes, is ftronger 
than any effe6b that can be produced by fimple 
and naked infl:ru6lion j and hence we find, that 
tbewifefl; men in all ages have more or lefs em- 
.|4oyedf2lble& and. Anions J as^ the vehicles of 
knowledge* Thefe have ever been the bafiii of 

F 3 both 






yo FICTITIOUS HISTORY- 

L E c T. both Epic and Dramatic Poetry. It is not, 
xxxvn. therefore, the nature of this fort of Writing, 
confidered in itfelf, but the faulty manner of 
its execution, that can expofe it to any con* 
tempt. Lord Bacon takes notice of our tafte 
for Fi6litious Hiflory, as a proof of the great- 
nefs and dignity of the human mind. He ofa^ 
ferves very ingenioufly, that the obje6ls of this 
world, and the common train of afiairs which 
we behold going on in it, do not fill the mind, 
nor give it entire fatisfaftion. We feek for 
fomething that ihall expand the mind in a 
greater degree : we feek for more heroic and 
illuflrious deeds, for more diverfified and iiir- 
prifing events, for a more fplendid order of 
tilings, a more regular and juil diitribution of 
rewards and punifhments than what we find 
here: becaufe we meet not with thefe in true 
hiflory, we have recourfe to fidtitious* We 
create worlds according to our fancy, in order 
to gratify our capacious defires : " Accomino^ 
" dando,*' fays that great Philolbpher, ^ rerom 
^^ fimulachra ad animi defideria, non fubmit^ 
^^ tendo animum rebus, quod ratio facit^ et luf- 
" toria *•" Let us then, fince the fiibje£b wants 
neither dignity nor ufe, make a few obf^urva- 
tions on the rife and progrefs of Fi&itious Hi£^ 
tory, and the different forms it has afliuned in 
different countrjies. 



* *< Accommodating the appearances of things to the defites 
** of the mind 9 not hiinging down the mind, u hiftorr- aa^ 
« philof ophy do, to the courfe of evcots.'' 

Ik 



FICTITIOUS HISTORY. 71 

In all countries we find its origin very antient L £ c r. 
The genius of the Eaflem nations, in particular, ^' 

was from the earlieft times much turned to* 
wards invention and the love of fidlion. Their 
Divinity, their Philofophy, and their Politics, 
were clothed in fables and parables. The In- 
jdians, the Perfians, and Arabians, were all fa- 
mous for their tales. The " Arabian Night^s 
*' Entertainments" are the produftion of a ro- 
mantic invention, but of a rich and amufing 
imagination ; exhibiting a lingular and curious 
difplay of manners and characters, and beau- 
tified with a very humane morality. Among the 
antient Greeks, we hear of the Ionian anc^ Mi* 
lefian Tales ; but they have now periihed ; and, 
from any account that we have of them, appear 
to have been of the loofe and wanton kind. 
Some Fictitious Hiftories yet remain, that were ^ 
compofed during the decline of the Roman 
Empire, by Apuleius, Achilles Tatius, and He- 
liodorus biihop of Trica, in the fourth century ; 
but none of them are confiderable enough to 
merit particular criticifms. 

During the dark ages, this fort of writing aC 
(iuned a new and very Angular form, and for 
a long while made a great figure in the worlds 
The martial fpirit of thofe nations, among whom 
|;he feudal government prevailed ; the ellabliih- 
ment of fingle combat, as an allowed method of 
deciding caufes both of juftice and honour ; the 
appointment of champions in the caufe of 
women, who could not maintain their own rights 

F 4 by 



^4 FICTITIOUS HISTORY. 

L E c T. by the fword ; together with the inftitutioii of 
XXXVH. military tournaments, in which difterent king- 
doms vied with one another, gave rife, in thofe 
times, to that marvellous fyftem of chivalry, 
which is one of the mod Angular appearances 
in the hiftory of mankind. Upon this were 
founded thofe romances of knight-errantry^ 
which carried an ideal chivalry to a ftill more 
extravagant height than it had rifen in. fa6t. 
There W£is difplayed in thfem a new and very 
Wonderful fort of world, hardly bearing :any rei 
femblance to the world in which we dwelh Not 
only knights fetting forth to I'edrefs all manner 
of wrongs^ but in: 6very page, magicians j dra* 
gons, and giants, invulnerable men, winged 
hqrfes, enchanted armour,and enchanted caftles; 
adventures abfolutely incredible, yet fuited to 
the grofs ignorance of thefe ages, and to the 
* legends, and fuperftitious notions concerning 
^nagic and necromancy^ which then prevailed. 
This merit they had, of being writings of the 
highly moral and heroic kind. . Their knights 
were patterns, not of courage merely, but of 
religion, generofity, courtefy, and fidelity ; and 
the heroines were no lefs diftinguiftied for 
modefly, delicacy, and the utmoil dignity of 
manners^ 

These Were the firft Compofitions that re^ 
fceived the name of Romances. The origin of 
this name is traced, by Mi:. Huet, the learned 
biihop of Avranche, to the Proven9al Trouba^ 
doures^ a fort of ftoty-tellers and bards in the 

county 



FICTITIOUS HISTORYi y^ 

t^iinty. of Provence^ where there fubfifted fome L i&<:.t: 
iremainscof literature and poetry. The language ^^^^ 
which prevaijed in that country was a mixture 
of Latin and Gallic, called the Roman or Ro- 
mance , Language ; and, as the flories of thofe 
Troubadoures were written in that language^ 
hence it tj laid the name of Romance, whichn^tre 
now apply to all fi^itious Compofition, 

The earlieft of thefe Romances is thiit whicH 
goes under the name of Turpin ^ the archbifliop 
of'Rheims, written in the 1 1 th century. . The 
fubje6fc is, the Atchievements of Charlemagne 
;and his Peers, or Paladins, in driving the Sara- 
cens out of France and part of Spain ; the fame 
fubjeidl which Ariofto has taken fot .his' cele- 
brated poem of Orlando Furiofo, 'which is truly 
a Chivalry RotHance, as extravagant a^ any of 
the reft, but partly heroic, and partly comic, 
ehibellifted with th« higheft grace* of poetry* 
The Romance of Turpin was followed by Ama* 
dis de Gaul, and many more of the fame ftftmp^ 
The Crufades both furniihed new matter, >nd 
increafed the fpirit for ftlch Writings ; the 
.Chriftians againft the Saracens made the com- 
mon ground-work of them ; and from the nth 
to the 1 6th century they continued to bewitch 
jail Europe. In Spdin^ where the tafte for this 
fort of writing had been moft greedily caught^ 
the ingenious Cervantes, in the beginning of the 
laft century, contributed greatly to explode it j 
and the abolition of tournaments,, the prohibi* 
tion of fingle combat, the dilbeUef of magic and* 

enchant- 



74 FICTITIOUS HISTORY. 

L B c T. enchantments, and the change in general of 
^^^^^^^^ manners throughout Europe, began to give a 
new turn to fictitious Compofition. 

Th£N appeared the Ailraea of D'urfe, the 
Grand C3rnis, the Clelia and Cleopatra of 
Mad. Scuderi, the Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney, 
and other grave and ilately Compofitions in the 
iame ftyle. Thefe may be confidered as form- 
ing the fecond ilage of Romance writing. The 
heroifm and the gallantry, the moral and virta- 
ous turn of the chivalry romance, were ftill 
preierved ; but the dragons, the necromancers, 
and the enchanted caftles, were banifhed^ and 
fome finall refemblance to human nature was 
introduced. Still, however, there was too much 
of the marvellous in them to pleafe an age which 
How afpired to refinement. The characters 
* were difcemed to be drained ; the ftyle to be 
(woln ; the adventures incredible ; tlfb books 
th^nfelves were voliuninqus and tedious. 

; Hence, this Ibrt of Compofition foon aflumed 
a third form, and from magnificent Heroic Ro* 
mance, dwindled down to the Familiar Novel. 
Thefe novels, both in France and England, 
during the age of Lewis XIV. and King 
Charles II., were in general of a trifling nature, 
without the appearance of moral tendency^ or 
uiefid inftru£tion. Since that time, however, 
fomewhat better has been attempted, and a de- 
gree of refcxrmatio^ introduced into the fyint of 
*KoveI Writings Imitations of life and charac- 
ter 



FICTITIOUS HISTORY. 7j 

tor have been made their principal obje^ Re- t S c T. 
lations have been profeffed to be given of the .f^^^ 
behaviour .of perfons in particular interefling 
fituations, fuch as may a6lually occur in life ; 
hy means of which, what is laudable or defec- 
tive in chara6l;er and condu£t, may be pointed 
out, and placed in an ufeful light. Upon this 
plan, the French have produced fome compo* 
fitions of confiderable merit. Gil Bias, by 
Le Sage, is a book full of good fenfe, and in- 
ilru6live knowledge of the world* The works 
of Marivaux,^ efpecially his Marianne, difcover 
great refinement of thought, great penetration 
into human nature, and paint with ^ very deli- 
cate pencil, £>me of the niceA Ihades and fea- 
tures in the diftinftion of chara6i;er6. The 
Nouvelle Heloife of Roufleau is a production of 
a very fingular kind ; in many of the events 
which are related, improbaUe and unnatural; 
in ibme of the details tedious, and for fome of 
the fcenes which are defcribed juftly blameable ; 
but withal, foi: the power of eloquence, for ten. 
demefs of fentiment, for ardour of paffflon, 
entitled to rank among the higheft produ6ti(Mis 
of Fidlitious Hiftory. 

In this kind of Writing we are, it muft be 
confefled, in Great Britain, inferior to the 
French. We neither relate fo agreeably, nor 
draw characters with fo much delicacy }t yet 
we are not without fome performances which 
difcover the ftrength of the Britifii genius. No 
fidion, in any language, was ever better fup- 

ported 



y6 FICTITIOUS HIS-TOftV^ 

t B e T. p6rted*than the Adventures ofRobinfbn CriifocV 
X^KVH. "v^hiie it is carried on with that appearance of 
truth and fimpiicity, which takes a ftrong hold 
of the imagination of all Readers, it fuggells, at 
-the fame time, very ufeful inftru6lion ; by fliow* 
ing how much the native powers of man may be 
«xerted for furmoupting the difficulties of any 
external fituation* Mr. Fielding-s Novels are 
highly difliiitguilhed for their humour ; a^ hu- 
mour which, if nofc of the moil refined and 
delicate kind, is original, and peculiar to him- 
felfl : The charadlers which he draws are lively 
3iQd natural, and marked with' the ftrokes of a 
-bold penciL The general fcope of his ftories is 
iavourable to humanity and goodiiQfe of heart j 
'ftnd in Tom Jonesj: his: greatefl work^ the artful 
condu6lofthe fable V and the fubfernency of afl. 
Ahe incidents to the winding up of the whole^ 
4efervermuch praife« The moll moral of all our 
Novel Writers is:Richardfon, the Author of 
Clarifla, a writer bf excellent intentions, and bf 
jvjery coniiderable; capacity and genius ; did -he 
not poiTefs the unfortunate talent of fpinning 
out pieces of amufement into ah immeafurable 
length. The trivial performances which daily 
appear in public under the title of Lives, Ad- 
yfentures, and Hiftories, by ailonymous Authors, 
if they be often innocent, yet are moft com*, 
jnonly ihfipid; and though in the general it 
ought to be admitted that Chara6leriftical 
Novels, formed upon Nature and upon Life, 
without extravagance, and without licentiouf- 
n^fs, might furnifb an agreeable and ufeful eof 

tertain^ 



FICTITIOUS HISTORY. 



77 



tertainment to the mind ; yet confidering the L E c T. 
manner in which thefe Writings have been, for ^^^^'^^ 
the mod part, condu6led, it muft alfo be con- 
fefled, that they oftener tend to diffipation and 
idlenefs, than to any good purpofe. Let us now, 
therefore, make our retreat from thefe reffion? 
0f fi&ion. 



I ( t ' J / i 



U ' . , ' " y , , , gs 



LECTURE XXXVIII. 



NATURE OF POETRY — ITS ORIGIN AND 
PROGRESS — VERSIFICATION. 

L £ c T« T HAVE now finifhed my obfervations on the 
^°?^ A different kinds of Writing in Profe. What 
remains is, to treat of Poetical Compofition. 
Before entering on the *confideration of any of 
its particular kinds, I defign this Le6ture as an 
Introdudlion to the fubjedl of Poetry in general ; 
wherein I fliall treat of its nature, give an ac- 
count of its origin, and makelbme obfervations 
on Verfification, or Poetical Numbers 

Our firft enquiry muft be, what is Poetry ? 
and wherein does it differ from Profe ? The an- 
fwer to this queflion is not fo eaiy as might at 
firft be imagined ; and Critics have differed and 
diQ)uted much concerning the proper definition 
of Poetry. Some have made its effence to con* 
lift in fi^ion, and fupport their opinion by the 
authority of Ariftotle and Plato. But this is 
certainly too limited a definition ^ for though 

fid;ion 



NATURE OF POETRY. j^ 

fiction may have a great fliare in many Poetical l fi c T 
Compofitiohs, yet many fubje£ts of Poetry may ^^^^^ 
not be feigned } as where the Poet defcribe^ 
objects which adtually exift, or pours forth the 
real fentiments of his own heart* Others have 
made the chara6teriftic of Poetry to lie in imita* 
tion. But this is altogether loofb ; for feveral 
other arts imitate as well as Poetry; and an 
imitation of human manners and chara£l;erS| 
may be carried on in the humbl^fl Profe, no left 
than in the more lofty Poetic drain. 

The mod jufl and comprehenfive definition 
which, I think, can be given of Poetry, is^ 
^^ That it is the language of paffion, or of enli* 
*^ vened imagination, formed, mod commonly^ 
" into regular numbers." The Hiflorian, the 
Orator, the Philofopher, addrefs themfelves, for 
the moft part, primarily to the underftanding : 
their dire£t aim is to inform, to perfuade, or to 
inftru6t* But the primary aim of a Poet is to 
pleafe, and to move y> and, therefore,, it h to the 
Imagination, and the Paffions, that he Ipeaks. 
He may, and he ought to have it in hi& view, to 
inftru£): and to reform; but it is indire6tly^ and 
by pleafihg and moving, that he accomplifheflf 
this end. His mind is fuppofed to be animated 
by fome interefting obje6l which fires his ImagI* 
nation, or engages his Paflionij ; and which, of 
courfe, communicates to his Style a peculiar ele- 
vation fuitedto his ideas; very different from that 
mode of exprefiion, which is natural to the mind 
in its calm, ordinary ftate. I have added to my 

defi. 



8o ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRY, 

L E CT. definition, that this language of Paffion, or imt 
XXjcvm, agination, is formed, mqft commonly^ into regular 
numbers ; becaufe, though Verfification be, in 
general, the exterior diftinfilion of Poetryy yet 
there are fome forms of Verfe fo loole and 
£imiUar, as to be hardly diflinguiihable from 
Profe ; fuch as the Verfe of Terence's Come- 
dies ; and there is alfo a fpecie^ of Profe^ i^ 
meafured in its cadence, and fo much raifed in 
its tone, as to approach very near to Poetical 
Numbers ; fuch as the Xelemachus of Fenelon ; 
and the Englilh Tranflation of Offian. The 
truth is, Verfe and Profe, on fome occafions^ run 
into one another, li^e light and fhade. It is 
hardly poflible to determine the exa£t limit 
where Eloquence ends, and Poetry begins j nor 
is there any occafion for being very precife 
about the boundaries, as long as the nature of 
each is underftood, Thefe are the minutise of 
Criticifm, concerning which frivolous Writers are 
always difpofed to fquabble ; but which deferve 
not any particular difcufiion. The truth and 
juftnefs of the definition, which I have given of 
Poetry, will appear more fully from the account 
which I am now to give of its origin, and which 
will tend to throw light on much of what I am 
afterwards to deliver, concerning its various 
kinds. 

The Greeks, ever fond of attributing to their 
own nation the invention of all fciences and 
arts, have afcribed the origin of Poetry to 
Orpheus, Linus, and Mufaeus. There were» 

15 perhaps. 



ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRY. 8i 

perhaps, fuch perfons as thefe, who were the firft L E c T, 
diftinguiftied bards in the Grecian Countries. ^^J^^^j 
But long before fuch names were heard of, and 
among nations where they were never known. 
Poetry exifted. It is a great error to imagine, 
that Poetry and Mufic are Arts which belong 
only to poliftied nations. They have their 
foundation in the nature of man, and belong to 
all nations, and to all ages ; though, like other 
arts founded in nature, they have been more 
cultivated, and, from a concurrence of favour- 
able circumftances, carried to greater perfe6tion 
in fome countries, than in others. In order to 
explore the rife of Poetry, we muft have re- 
courfe to the deferts and the wilds ; we muft go 
back to the age of hunters and of Ihepherds ; 
to the higheft antiquity: and to the fimpleft 
form of manners among mankind. 

It has been often faid, and the concurring 
voice of all antiquity affirms, that Poetry is older 
than Profe. But in what fenfe this feemingly 
llrange Paradox holds true,+ias not always been 
well uhderftood. There never, certainly, was 
any period of fociety in which men converfed 
together in Poetical numbers. It was in very 
humble and fcanty Profe, as we may eafily be- 
lieve, that the firft tribes carried on intercourfe 
among themfelves, relating to the wants and ne- 
ceffities of life. But from the very beginning of 
Society, there were occafions on which they met 
together for feafts, facrifices, and public affem- 
blies ; and on all fuch occafions, it is well 

VOL. III. 6 known. 



82 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRV. 

L £ c T. known, that mufic, fong, and dance, made their 
^^^^"^ principal entertainment. It is chielfly in Ame- 
rica, that we have had the opportunity of being 
made acquainted with men in their favage date. 
We learn from the particular and concurring 
accounts of Travellers, that, among all the na- 
tions of that vail continent, efpecially amojDg 
the Northern Tribes, with whom we have had 
mod intercourfe, muiic and fong are, at all 
their meetings, carried on with an incredibljs 
degree of enthufiam ; that the Chiefs of the 
Tribe are thofe who fignalize themfelves moft 
on fuch occafions ; that it is in fongs they cele- 
brate their religious rites ; that, by thefe, they 
lament their public and private calamities, the 
death of friends, or the lofs of warriors ; ex- 
prefs their joy on their vi6lories ; celebrate the 
great a6tions of their nation, and their heroes ; 
excite each other to perform great exploits in 
war, or to fuffer death and torments with un- 
ihaken conflancy. 

Here then we fee the firft beginnings of 
Poetic Compoiition, in thofe rude effiiiions, 
which the enthufiafm of fancy or palBon fug- 
gelled to untaught men, when roufed by intereft- 
ing events, and by their meeting together in 
public aflemblies. Two particulars would early 
diflinguifh this language of fong, from that io 
which they converfed on the common occur- 
rences of life ; namely, an unufual arrangemept 
of words, and the employment of bold figures of 
fpeech. It would invert words> or change them 

from 



ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRY. g- 

ifrom that order in which they are commonly L E c T. 
placed, to that which moil fuited the train in ^^^^^^^™* 
which they rofe in the Speaker's imagination : 
or which was moft accommodated to the ca- 
dence of the paffion by which he was moved. 
Under the influence too of any ftrong emotion , 
objedls do not appear to us fuch as they really 
are, but fuch as paflion makes us fee them. We 
magnify and exaggerate ; we feek to intereil all 
others in what caufes our emotion ; we compare 
* the leaft things to the greatefl ; we call upon 
the abfent as well as the prefent, and even ad'^ 
drefs ourfelves to things inanimate. Hence, in 
congruity with thofe various movements of the 
mind, arife thofe turns of expreffion, which we 
now diflinguifh, by the learned names of Hyper- 
bole, Profopopceia, Simile, &c. but which are no 
other than the native original language of 
Poetry among the moft barbarous nations. 

Man is both a Poet, and a Mufician, by na- 
ture. The fame impulfe which prompted the 
enthufiaftic Poetic Style, prompted a certain 
melody, or modulation of found, fuited to the 
emotions of Joy or Grief, of Admiration, Love, 
or Anger. There is a power in found, which, 
partly from nature, partly from habit and affoci- 
ation, makes fuch pathetic impreflions on thd 
fency, as delight even the moft wild barbarians. 
Mufic and Poetry, therefore, had the fame rife j 
they were prompted by the fame occafions ; 
they were united in fong ; and, as long as they 
continued united, they tended, without doubt, 

G % mutually 



84 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRr. 

L E c T. mutually to heighten and exalt each othert 
^™^^™- power. The firft Poets fung their own Verfes: 
and hence the beginning of what we call Verfi- 
iication, or Words arranged in a more artful 
order than Profe, fo as to be fuited to fome tune 
av melody. The liberty of tranfpofition, or in- 
verfion, which the Poetic Style, as I obferved, 
ivould naturally aflume, made it eafier to form 
the words into fome fort of numbers that feUin 
with the Mufic of the Song. Very harlh and 
uncouth, we may eafily believe, thefe numbers 
would be at firft. But the pleafure was felt ; 
it was ftudied ; and Verfification, by degrees, 
pafled into an Art. 

It appears from what has been faid, that the 
firft Compofitions which were either recorded by 
Writing or tranfmitted by Tradition, could be 
no other than Poetical Compofitions. No other 
but thefe, could draw the attention of men in 
their rude uncivilized ftate. Indeed they knew 
no other. Cool reafoning and plain difcourfe 
had no power to attra6l favage Tribes, addi6ted 
only to hunting and war. There was nothing 
that could either roufe the Speaker to pour him- 
felf forth, or draw the crowd to liften, but the 
high powers of Paflion, of Mufic, and of Song. 
This vehicle, therefore, and no other, could be 
employed by Chiefs and Legiflators, when they 
meant to inftru6l or to animate their tribes. 
There is, likewife, a farther reafon why fiich 
Compofitions only could be tranfmitted to pot 
terity j becaufe, before Writing was invented, 

ir Songs 



ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRY. 85 

Songs only could laft, and be remembered. The L E c T. 
ear gave affiftance to the memory, by the help ^*^^^^^^^- 
of Numbers ; fathers repeated and fung them to 
their children ; and by this oral tradition of na- 
tional Ballads, were conveyed all the hiftorical 
knowledge, and all the inftru6tion, of the firfl 
ages. 

The earlieft accounts which Hiftory gives us con- 
cerning all nations, bear teftimony to thefe fa6ts. 
In the firftages of Greece, Priefts, Philofophers, 
and Statefmen, all delivered their inftru6lions in 
Poetry. Apollo, Orpheus, and Amphion, their 
moft antient Bards, are reprefented as the firft 
tamers of mankind, the firft founders of law 
and civilifation. Minos and Thales fung*to the 
Lyre the laws which- they compofed*; and till 
the age immediately preceding that of Herodo* 
tus, Hiftory had appeared in no other form than 
that of Poetical Tales. 

In the fame manner, among all other nations. 
Poets and Songs are the firft obje6ls that make 
their appearance. Among the Scythian or 
Gothic nations, many of their kings and leaders 
were Scalders, or Poets ; and it is from their 
Runic Songs, that the moft early Writers of 
their Hiftory, fuch as Saxo-Grammaticus, ac- 
knowledge, that they had derived their chief in- 
formation. Among the Celtic Tribes, in Gaul, 



» ■ > ' 



* Straboy 1. io» 

Q 3 Britain, 



\ 



86 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRY- 

L E c T. jj^ritain, and Ireland, we know, in what admira- 
?^^^^^^* tion their Bards were held, and what great in. 
fluence they pofleffed over the people. They 
were both Poets and Muficians, as all the firft 
Poets, in every country, were. They were al- 
ways near the perfon of the chief or fovereign ;. 
they recorded all his great exploits ; they were 
employed as the ambafladors between con- 
tending tribes, and their perfons were held 
facred. 

From this dedu6lion it follows, that as we 
have reafon to look for Poems and Songs among 
the Antiquities of all countries, fo we may ex- 
pe6t, that in the flrain of thefe there will be a 
remarkable refemblance, during the primitive 
periods of every country. The occafions of 
their being compoled, are every where nearly 
the fame. The praifes of Gods and Heroes, 
the celebration of famed anceftors,. the recital 
of martial deeds, fongs of vi6lory, and fongs of 
lamentation over the misfortunes and death of 
their countrymen, occur among all nations^ 
and the fame enthufiafm and fire, the fame wild 
and irregular, but animated Compofition, con^ 
cife and glowing Style^ bold and extravagant 
Figures of Speech, are the general diflinguifb. 
ing chara6ters of all the moft antient original 
Poetry. That ftrong hyperbolical manner 
which we have been long accuftomed to call 
the Oriental manner of Poetry (becaufe fome of 
the earliefl poetical produ^ions came to us 

from 



OHiOttf AND PROGRESS OF POETRY. 87 

from the Eaft,) is in truth no more Oriental L E c T. 
than Occidental; it is chara6teriftical of an age ^^^^^^™* 
rather than of a country, and belongs, in fome 
meafure, to all nations at that period T/^hich 
firft gives rife to Mufic and to Song. Mankind 
never refemble each other, fo much as they do 
in the beginnings of fociety. Its fubfequent re- 
volutions give birth to the principal di(lin6tions 
of chara6ber among nations, and divert into 
channels widely feparated, that current of hu- 
man genius and manners, which defcends origi- 
nally from one fpring. 

Diversity of climate and of manner of living, 
will, however, occafion fome diverfity in the 
ftrain of the firft Poetry of nations ; chiefly, ac- 
cording as thofe nations are of a more ferocious, 
or of a more gentle ipirit ; and according as they 
advance fafter or flower in the arts of civilifa- 
tion. Thus we find all the remains of the antient 
Gothic Poetry remarkably fierce, and breathing 
nothing but flaughter and blood ; while the Pe- 
ruvian and the Chinefe Songs turned, from the 
earlieft times, upon milder fubje6ts. The Celtic 
Poetry, in the days of Offian, though chiefly of 
the martial kind, yet had attained a confider- 
able mixture of tendemefs and refinement ; in 
confequence of the long cultivation of Poetry 
among the Celt®, by means of a feries and fiic- 
ceflion of Bards which had been eiiabliflied for 
ages. So Lucan informs us : 

G 4 Vos 



8S ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRY, 

L P C T. Vos quoque qui fortes animos, belloque peremptos 
^^__ Laudibus in longum vates difFunditis aevum 

Plurima fecuri fudiftis carmina Bardi *. [L. 44.] 

AiifONG the Grecian nations, their early Poetry 
appears to have foon received a philolbphical 
caft, from what we are informed concerning 
the fubjedls of Orpheus, Linus, and Mufaeus, 
who treated of Creation and of Chaos, of the 
Generation of the World, and of the Rife of 
Things; and we know that the Greeks ad- 
vanced fooner to philofophy, andproceeded with 
^ quicker pace in all the arts of refinement than 
pioft other nations. 

The Arabians and the Perfians have always 
been the greateft Poets of the Eaft, and among 
them, as among other nations. Poetry was the 
jearliefl vehicle of all their learning and inftruc- 
tiont. ' The antient Arabs, we are informed t, 
valued themfelves much on their metrical Com- 
pofitions, which were of two forts ; the one 
|Jiey compared to loofe pearls, and the other to 
pearls ftrung. In the former the fentences or 



f You too, ye Bards, whom facred raptures fire, 

To chaunt your heroes to your country's lyre. 

Who consecrate in your immortal ftrain, 

Brave patriot fouls in righteous battle flain j 

Securely now the ufeful tafk renew. 

And nobleft themes in deathlefs fongs purfue. Rowe. 

f Vid. Voyages de Chardin, chap, de la Poefie des Perfans. 

X Vid. Preliminary Difcourfe to Sale's Tranflation of the 
Koran. 

verfes 



ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRY. 89 

verfes were without conne6lion, and their beauty L E c T. 
arofe from the elegance of the expreffion, and 
the acutenefs of the fentiment. The moral 
doctrines of the Perfians were generally com- 
prehended in fuch independent proverbial 
apophthegms, formed into verfe. In this refpedt 
they bear a confiderable refemblance to the 
Proverbs of Solomon ; a great Part of which 
book confifts of unconnefiled Poetry, like the 
loofe pearls of the Arabians. The fame form of 
Compofition appears alfo in the book of Job. 
The Greeks feem to have been the firft who in- 
troduced a more regular ftru6lure, and clofer 
connection of parts, into their Poetical Writings. 

During the infancy of Poetry all the different 
kinds of it lay confufed, and were mingled in 
the fame Compofition, according as inclination, 
enthufiafm, or cafual incidents, dire6led the 
Poet's ftrain. In the Progrefs of Society and 
Arts, they began to affume thofe different regu- 
lar forms, and to be diilinguifhed by thofe dif-' 
ferent names under which we now know them. 
But in the firft rude ftate of Poetical Effufions, 
we can eafily difcem the feeds and beginnings 
of all the kinds of regular Poetry. Odes and 
Hymns of every fort, would naturally be among 
the firft Compofitipus; according as the Bards 
were moved by religious feelings, by exultation^ 
refentment, love, or any other warm fentiment, 
to pour themfelves forth in Song. Plaintive or 
Elegiac Poetry, would as naturally arife from 
lamentations over their deceafed firiends. The 

recital 



^O ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRT. 

j;. E c T. recital of the achievements of their heroes, and 
y^^^; their anceftors, gave birth to what we now call 
Epic Poetry ; and as not content with fimply 
reciting thefe, they would infallibly be led, at 
fome of their public meetings, to reprefent 
them, by introducing different Bards fpeaking 
in the chara6ler of their heroes, and anlwering 
each othery we find in this the firft outlines of 
Tragedy, or Dramatic Writing. 

None of thefe kinds of Poetry, however, wcr^ 
in the firft ages of Society properly diiling-uiffaed 
or feparated, as they are now, from each other. 
Indeed, not only were the different kinds of 
Poetry then mixed together, but all that we now 
caU Letters, or Compofition of any kind, was 
then blended in one mafs. At firft, HiflSory, 
Eloqyuence, and Poetry were all the fame. Who* 
ever wanted to move or to perfuade, to inform 
6v to entertain his countrymen and neighbours^ 
whatever was the fubjedl, accompanied his fenj- 
timent and tales With thie melody of Song. Thid 
was the cafe in that period of ibciety , when the 
cbara6feei' atid occupations of the huft)andniaii 
and the builder, the warrior and the ftatefinan, 
were united in one perlbn. When the progrefi 
of Society brought on a fepar'ation of the dif> 
£»rent Arts and Profeffions o£ Civil Life, it led 
alib by degrees to a< feparation of the different 
literary provinces from each other. 

The Art 6f Writing wais in procefs of tirfit 
ini^ented ^ reieords of paft tran&&ions began to 

lo be 



PRIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRY, 91 

be kept ;. men, occupied with the fubje6ls of pO>- l e c T. 
licy and ujfeful arts, wi&ed now to be inftru6led ?^^^^^^^™; 
and informed, as well as moved. They rea<- 
ipned and refle6led upon the affairs of life ; aiid 
were interefted by what was real, not fabulous^ 
in paft tranfadtions. The Hiftorian, therefore,, 
now laid afide the buMns of Poetry ; he wrote 
ia Profe, and attempted to give a faithful and 
judicious relation of former events. The Philo- 
fopher addrefled himfelf chiefly to the under* 
flanding. The Orator fludied to perfiiade by 
reasoning, and retained more or lefs of the aiw 
tient paffionate and glowing Style, according bb 
it was conducive to his purpofe* Poetry became 
now a feparate art, calculated chiefly to pleafe^ 
and con&ied generally to fuch fiibje6bs as related 
to the imagination and paflions. Even its earlieft 
companion, Mufic, was in a great meafure du 
vided from it. 

These fepanitidns brought all the literary art» 
into a more regular form,, and contributed Uf 
the exa6i and accurate cultivation of eacb^ 
Poetry, however, in its antient original condi* 
tion>, was perhaps more vigorous than it i^ in its 
modem flute. It included then , the whole burft 
of the human* mind ; the whole exertion of it* 
imaginative faculties. It f|)ok6 then the lan«r 
guage of paffion, and no other; for to paffion it 
owed its birth. Fix>mpted and infpired by ob- 
jedts which to him feemed great, by events 
which interefl;ed his country or his friends, the 
early Bard aroie and fungt .. He iung indeed in 

wild 



g2 QRIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRr. 

L E c T. wild and diforderly drains ; but they were the 
?^^^^^'^ native efliifions of his heart; they were the ar- 
dent conceptions of admiration or refentment, 
of forrow or friendfliip, which he poured forth. 
It is no wonder, therefore, that in the rude and 
artlefs drain of the firft Poetry of all nations, we 
Ihould often find fomewhat that captivates and 
tranfports the mind. In after-ages, when Poe- 
try became a regular art, lludied for reputation 
and for gain. Authors began to afFe6l what they 
did not feel. Compofing coolly in their clofets, 
they endeavoured to imitate pafiion, rather than 
to exprefs it; they tried to force their imagina- 
tion into raptures, or to fupply the defeat of 
native warmth, by thofe artificial ornaments 
which might give Compofition a fplendid ap* 
j^fearance. 

The feparation of Mufic from Poetry, pro- 
duced confequences not favourable in fome re- 
^6ls to Poetry, and in many refpe6ts hurtful 
to, Mufic*. As long as they remained united, 
Mufic enlivened and animated Poetry, and Poe- 
try gave force and expreflion to mufical found. 
The Mufic of that early period was, beyond 
doubt, extremely fimple ; and mull have con- 
fifled chiefly of fuch pathetic notes, as the voice 
could adapt to the words of the Song. Mufical 
inftruments, fuch as flutes, and pipes, and a 
lyre with a very few fixings, appear to have been 



,"V • ». ■ '.. 



^ See Dr. Brown's Diflertation on the Ri/cj Union, and 
Separation of Po^ry and Mufic* 

early 



ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF POETRY. 93 

• early invented among fbme nations ;> but no l e c T. 
more was intended by thefe inflrumeiits, than 
iimply to accompany the voice, and to heighten 
the melody of Song* The Poet's ftfain was 
always heard; and, from many circumflances, 
it appears, that among the ancient Greeks, as 
well as among other nations, the Bard fung his 
verfes, and played upon his harp or lyre at the 
fame time. In this (late, the art of muiic was, 
when it produced all thofe great effefils of which 
we read fo much in antient hiftory. And cer- 
tain it is, that from fimple Muiic only, and from 
Mufic accompanied with Verfe or Song, we are 
to look for ftrong expreffion and powerful influ- 
ence over the human mind. When inftrumental 
Mufic came to be iludied as a feparate art, di- 
vefted of the Poet's Song, and formed into the 
artificial and intricate combinations of harmony, 
it loil all its antient power of inflaming the 
hearers with fi^rong emotions ; and funk into an 
art of mere amufement, among poliflied and 
luxurious nations. 

Still, however. Poetry preferves, in all coun- 
tries, fome remains of its firfli and original con- 
nection with Mufic. By being uttered in Song, 
it was formed into numbers, or into an artificial 
arrangement of words and fyUables, very diffe- 
rent in different countries; but fuch as, to the 
inhabitants of each, feemed mofi: melodious and 
agreeable in found. Whence arifes that great 
charaCleriftic of Poetry which we now call verfe; 
a fubje£l which cpmes next to be treated of. , 

It 



94 VERSIFICATION- 

L E c T. It is a fubjefl of a curious nature ; but as I am 
XXX vm. fenfible, that, were I to purfuc it as far as my 
inclination leads, it would give rife to difcuflions, 
which the greater part of Readers would confider 
as minute, I (hall confine myfelf to a few obierva^ 
tions upon £nglifli Verfification. 

Nations, whofe language and pronunciation 
were of a mufical kind, refted their Verfification 
chiefly upon the quantities, that is, the length or 
ihortnefs of their fyllables. Others, who did not 
make the quantities of their fyllabies be lb dif* 
tin^ly perceived in pronouncing them, refted the 
melody of their Verfe upon the number of iylla- 
bles it contained, upon the proper difpofition of 
accents and paufes in it, and frequently upon 
that return of correfponding founds, which we 
call Rhyme. The former was the cafe with the 
Greeks and Romans ; the latter is the cafe with 
us, and with moft modern nations. Among the 
Greeks and Romania, every fyllable, or the far 
greateft number at leaft, was known to have a 
fixed and determined quantity; and their manner 
of pronouncing rendered this fo fenfible to the 
ear, that a long fyllable was counted precifely 
equal in time to two fhort ones. Upon this 
principle, the number of fyllables contained in 
their hexameter verfe was allowed to vary. It 
may extend to 17 ; it can contain, when reguliur, 
no fewer than 13: but the mufical time was, 
notwithftanding, precifely the fame in every 
hexameter verfe, and was always equal to that 
of 1 2 long fyUables. In order to afcertain the 

regular 



VERSIFICATION. gg 

resular time of every verfe, and the proper mix- L e c T. 
ture and fucceffion of long and ihort iyllables 
which ought to compoie it, were invented, what 
the Grammarians call Metrical Feet, Dadtyles, 
Spondees, Iambus, &c. By thefe meafures was 
tried the accuracy of Con^pofition in every line^ 
and whether it was ih conftru6ted as to complete 
its proper melody. It was requifite, for inflance, 
that the hexameter verf^ Ihould have the quantity 
of its fyUablesfo difpofed, that it could be fcanned 
or meafured by fix metrical feet, which might be 
either Dadiyles or Spondees (as the mufical time 
of both thefe is the fame), with this reilri6tion 
only, that the fifth foot was regularly to be a 
Dafilyle, and the lafl^ a Spondee*. 

The 



riki 



♦ Some writers itnagine, that the feet in Latin Verfe were 
intended to correfpond to bars in Mafic, and to form muiical 
intery^s or dij^^ons, ^nfible to the ear in the pronunciation 
of the Hne. Had this been the cafe, every kind of Verfe muft 
have had a peculiar order of feet appropriated to it. But the 
common profodies (how, that there are feveral forms of Latin 
Verfe which are (ftpable of being meafured indifferently, by a 
feries of feet of very different kinds. For inflance, what is called 
the Aiclepedaean Verfe (in which the firfl ode of Horace is 
written) may be fcanned either by a Spondeus, two Choriam* 
bus's and a Pyrrichius ; or by a Spondeus, a Darius fucceeded 
by Caefura and two Da^ylus's. The common Pentameter, and 
fbme other forms of Verfe, admit the likt varieties ; and yet the 
melody of the Verfe remains always the ffune, though it be fcan- 
ned by different feet. This proves, that the metrical feet were 
not fenfible in the pronunciation of the line, but were intended 
only to regulate its conftrudion ; or applied as meafures, to 
try whether the fucceffion of long smd (hort fyllabks was fuch 

as 



96 VERSIFICATION. 

L E c T. The introdu6tion of thefe feet into* Enfflifh 

XXXVIII* 

' Verfe, would be altogether out of place; for the 
genius of our language correfponds not in this 
refpedl to the Greek or Latin. I fay not, that 
we have no regard to quantity, or to long and 
fliort, in pronouncing. Many words we have, 
efpecially our words confiding of feveral fyllables, 
where the quantity, or the long and fliort fylla- 
bles, are invariably fixed ; but great numbers we 
have alfo, where the quantity is left altogether 
loofe. This is the cafe with a great part of our 
words confift.ing of two fyllables, and with almofl; 
all our monofyllables. In general, the difference 
made between long and fliort fyllables, in our 
manner of pronouncing them, is fo very inconfi- 
derable, and fo much liberty is left us for making 
them either long or fliort at pleafure, that mere 
quantity is of very little effedl in Englifli Verfi- 
fication. The only perceptible difference among 
our fyllables, arifes from fome of them being 
uttered with that ftronger percuflion of voice, 
which we call Accent. This Accent does not 
always make the fyUable longer, but gives 



as fuited the melody of the Verfe : and as feet of diflFerent kinds 
could fometimes be applied for this purpofe, hence it happenedy 
that fome forms of Verfe were capable of being fcanned in dif- 
ferent ways. For meafuring the hexameter line, no other feet 
were found fo proper as DaAyles and Spondees, and therefore 
by thefe it is uniformly fcanned. But no ear is fenfible of the 
termination of each foot, in reading an hexameter line. From a 
mifapprehenfion of this matter, I apprehend that confufion has 
fometimes arifen among Writers in treating of the profody both 
of Latin and of Englifh Verfe. 

it 



VERSIFICATION. 97 

it more force of found only ; and it is upon a L E c T. 
certain order afid fuccfeffibn of accented and P^^^^^^; 
unaccented fyllables, infimtely more than upon 
their being long or fliort, that the melody of our 
Verfe depends! If we take any of Mr. Pope's 
lines, arid in reciting them altfer the. quantity of 
the fyllables^ is far as our quantities are fenfible, 
the Mufic bf the Verfe will not be much injured: 
whereas, if we do nbt accent the lyllables ac- 
cording as the Verfe di6lates, its melody will be 
totally deftroyed*. 

Our Englifh Heroic Verfe is bf what may be 
called an Iambic ftru6lure; that is^ compofed. of a 
fucceflion nearly alternate. of fyllableSj riot fhort 
and long, butiihaccented and accented^ With 
regaird to the place of thefe accepts, however, 
fome liberty is admitted, for the f^ke of variety* 
Very often, though not always, the line begins 
with an unaccented fyUable ; and fometimes, in 
the courfe of it, two unaccented fyllables follow 
each other. But in general, there are either five. 



* See this well illuflrated in Lord Monboddo's Treat ife of 
the Origin and Progrefs of Language^ Vol. II. under the head 
of the Profody of Language. He ihews that this is not only 
the conftitution of our own Verfe, but that by our manner of 
reading Latin Verfe, we make its Mufic nearly the fame. For 
we certainly do not pronounce it according to the antient quan- 
tities, fo as to make the mufical time of one long fyllable equal 
to two (hort ones ; but according to a fucceffion of accented 
and unaccented fyllables, only mixed in a ratio different from 
that of our own Verfe. No Roman could poi&bly underiland 
our pronunciation. 

VOL, ni. H Ql 



p8 VERSIFICATION- 

L E c T. or four, accented fyUables in each line. The 
^^Y^: number of fyllables is ten, unlefs where an 
Alexandrian Verfe is occafionally admitted. In 
Verfes not Alexandrian, inftances occur where 
the line appears to have more than the limited 
number. But in fuch inftances I apprehend it 
will be found, that fome of the liquid fyllables 
are fo flurred in pronouncing, as to bring the 
Verfe, with refpe6l to its effect upon the ear, 
within the ufual bounds. * 

I m 

Another effential circumftance in the confti- 
tution of our Verfe, is the caefural paufe, which 
falls towards the middle of each line. Some 
paufe of this kind, di6lated by the melody, is 
found in the Verfe of moft nations. It is found, 
as might be fhewn, in the Latin hexameter. In 
the French Heroic Verfe, it is very fenfible. 
That is a Verfe of twelve fyllables, and in every 
line, juft aftei: the lixth fyllable, there falls re- 
gularly and indifpenfably, a caefural paufe, divid- 
ing the line into two equal hemiftichs. For 
example, in the firft lines of Boileau's Epiflle to 
the King. 

Jeune & vaillant heros | dont la haute fagefle 
N'eft point le fruit tardif | d'une lente vieillefle, 
Qui feul fans Miniftre | a I'example des Dieux 
Soutiens tout par toi-meme J & vois tous par fes veux. 

In this train all their Verfes proceed j the one 
half pf the line always anfwering to the other, 
and.tlie lame chime returning inceflantly on the 

ear 



VERSIFICATION. 99 

ear without intermiflion or change ; which is leg t. 
certainly a defeat in their Verfe, and unfits it ^^^^^^^-^ 
fo very much for the freedom and dignity of 
Heroic Poetry. On the other hand it is a dif- 
tinguifhing advantage of our Englifli Verfe, that 
it allows the paufe to be varied through four 
different fyllables in the line. The paufe may 
fall after the 4th, the 5th, the 6th, or the 7th'^ 
fyUable ; and according as the paufe is placed 
after one or other of thefe fyllables, the melody 
of the verfe is much changed, its air and cadence' 
are diverfified. By this means, uncommon rich- 
nefs and variety are added to Englifli Verfifica- 
tion. 

When the paufe falls earliefl:, that is, after 
the 4th fyllable, the briflieft melody is thereby 
formed, and the moll fpirited air given to the 
line. In the following lines of the Rape of the 
Lock, Mr. Pope has with exquifite propriety 
fuited the conftru6lion of the Verfe to the 
fubje6l : 

• 

On her white breaft | a fparkling crofs (he wore. 
Which Jews might kifs | and infidels adore j 
Her lively looks | a fprightly mind difclofe. 
Quick as her eyes | and as unfixed as thofe. 
Favours to none | to all (he fmiles extends. 
Oft fhe rejefts | but never once oflFcnds. 

WheisT the paufe falls after the 5th fyllable, 
which divides the line into two equal portions, 
the melody is fenfibly altered. The Verfe lofes 
that briflc and fprightly air, which it had with 

H 2 the 



loo VERSIFICATION. 

L E c T. the former paufe, and becomes more fmooth, 
^^^^^^ gentle, and flowing. 

Eternal funfliine | of the fpotlefs mind, 

Each prayer accepted | and each wifh refigned. 

When the paufe proceeds to follow the 6th 
iyllable, the tenor of the Mufic becomes folemn 
and grave. The Verfe marches now with a 
more flow and meafured pace, than in either of 
the two former cafes. 

The wrath of Peleus' fon | the direful fpring 
Of all the Grecian woes | O goddefs, fing 1 

But the grave folemn cadence becomes ftill 
more fenfible, when the paufe falls after the 7th 
fyllable, which is the nearefl^ place to the end of 
the line that it can occupy. This kind of Verfe 
occurs the feldomefl:, but has a happy efre6l in 
diverfifying the melody. It produces that flow 
Alexandrian air, which is finely fuited to a 
clofe ; and for this reafon, fuch lines almofl 
never occur together, but are ufed in finifliing 
the couplet. 

And in the fmooth defcription | murmur ftill. 
Long loved adored ideas ! | all adieu. 

I HAVE taken my examples from Verfes in 
rhyme; becaufe in thefe, our Verfification is 
fubje6led to the fl^ridlefli law. As Blank Verfe 
is of a freer kind, and naturally is read with 
lefs cadence or tone, the paufes in it, and the 

effea 



VERSIFICATION. 20f 

efFe6l of them, are not always fo fenfible to the l E c t. 
ear. It is conftru6ted, however, entirely upon ^^^^^^^^t 
the fame principles, with refpe6l to the place 
of the paufe. There are fome, who, in order 
to exalt the variety and the power of our Heroic 
Verfe, ha^ maintained that it admits of mufical 
pdufes, not only after thofe four fyllables where 
I affigned their place, but after any one fyUable 
in the Verfe indifferently, where the fenfe dire6ls 
it to be placed. This, in my opinion, is the 
fame thing as to maintain that there is no paufe 
at all belonging to the natural melody of the 
Verfe ; fince, according to this notion, the paufe 
is formed entirely to the meaning, not by the 
mufic. But this I apprehend to be contrary 
both to the nature of Verfification, and to the 
experience of every good ear*. Thofe cer- 
tainly are the happieft lines, wherein the paufe 
prompted by the melody, coincides in fome 



* In the Italian Heroic Verfe employed by Taflb in his 
Gierufalemme, and Ariofto in his Orlando, the paufcs are of 
the fame varied nature with thofe which I have (hewn to belong 
tx> Englifli Verfification, and fall after the fame four fyllables in 
the line. Marmontel, in his Poetique Fran^oife, Vol. I. p. 269. 
takes notice that this conftrufiibn of Verfe is common to the 
Italians and the Englifh ; and defends the uniformity of the 
French cacfural paufe upon this ground, that the alternation of 
mafculine and feminine rhymes, furnifhes fufficient variety to 
the French Poetry ; whereas the change of movement occa- 
fioned by the four different paufes in Engfifh and Italian Verfe, 
produces, according to him, too great diverfity. On the head 
of paufes in Englifh Verfification, fee the Elements of Criticifm, 
Chap.iS. Seft.4. 

H 3 degree 



102 VERSIFICATION. 

L E c T, degree with that of the fenfe, or at lead does not 
^^y^ ^^^^ *^ ^P^^^ ^^ interrupt the meaning. Wherever 
any oppofition between the mufic and the fenfe 
chances to take place, I obferved before, in 
.treating of Pronunciation or Delivery, that the 
proper method of reading thefe lines^is to read 
them according as the fenfe didlates, neglecting 
or flurring the caefural paufe, which renders 
the line lefs graceful indeed, but, however, does 
not entirely deftrqy its found. 

Our Blank Verfe poffeffes great advantages, 
;and is indeed a noble, bold, and difencumbered 
ipecies of Verfification. The principal defe^ in 
rhyme, is the full clofe which it forces upon the 
ear, at the end of every couplet. Blank Verfe is 
freed from this, and allows the lines to run into 
each other with as great liberty as the Latin hex- 
ameter permit^, perhaps with greater. Hence it 
is particularly fuited to fubjedls of dignity and 
force, which demand more free and manly num- 
bers than rhvme. The conftraint and ftri6k re- 
gularity of rhyme, are unfavourable to the fub- 
iime, or to the highly pathetic ilrain. An Epic 
Poem, or a Tragedy, would be fettered and 
degraded by it. It is beft adapted to compofi- 
tions of a temperate drain, where no particular 
vehemence is required in the Sentioients, nor 
great fublimity in thp Style ; fuch as Pajftorals, 
Elegies, Epiftles, Satires, &c. To thefe it com? 
municates that degree of elevation which is 
proper for them ; and without any other afliflance 
' J I fuflSciently 



VERSIFICATION. 103 

fufficiently diftingiiiflies the Style from Profe. L E c T. 
He who fliould write fuch Poems in Blank Verfe, xxxvnL 
would render his work harfh and unpleafing. In 
order to fupport a poetical Style, he would be 
obliged to affe6l a pomp of language, unfuitable 
to the fubje6l. 

Though I join in opinion w4th thofe, who 
think that rhyme finds its proper place in the 
middle, but not in the higher regions of Poetry, 
I can by no means join in the inve6lives which 
fome hav^ poured out againft it, as if it were a 
mere barbarous jingling of founds, fit only for 
children, and owingto nothing but thecorruption 
of tafte in the monkifli ages. Rhyme might in- 
deed be barbarous in Latin or Greek Verfe, 
becaufe thefe languages by the fonoroufnefs of 
their words, by their liberty of tranlpofition and 
inverfion, by their fixed quantities and mufical 
pronunciation, could carry on the melody of 
verfe without its aid. But it does not follow, 
that therefore it mud be barbarous in the Englifti 
language, which is deftitute of thefe advantages. 
Every language has powers and graces, and 
mufic peculiar to itfelf ; and what is becoming 
in one, would be ridiculous in another. Rhvme 
was barbarous in Latin j and an attempt to con- 
llru6l Englifh Verfes after the form of hexame- 
ters, and pentameters, and Sapphics, is as bar- 
barous among us. It is not true, that rhyme is 
merely a monkifti invention, On thp pontr^ry, 
it has obtained under different forms, in the 
Verfification of moll known nations. It i;3 found 

H 4 in 



LECTURE XXXIX. 



PASTORAL POETRY— LYRIC POETRY. 

L E c T. TN the laft Ledlure, I gave an account of the 
^^^^^ A Rife and Progrefs of Poetry, and made fome 
obfervations on the nature of Englifti Verfifica- 
tion. I now proceed to treat of the chief kinds 
of Poetical Compofition, and of the critical 
rules that relate to them, I (hall follow that 
order which is moll fimple and natural, begin- 
ning with the leffer forms of Poetry, and afcend- 
ing from them to the Epic and Dramatic, as the 
moft dignified. This Le6ture fliall be employed 
on Paftoral and Lyric Poetry. 



#■ ■ 



Though I begin with the confideration of 
Paftoral Poetry, it is not becaufe I confider it 
as one of the earlieft forms of Poetical Compo- 
fition. On the contrary, I am of opinion that 
it was not cultivated as a diftin6l Ipecies, or fub- 
je6l of Writing, until fociety had advanced in 
refinement. Moft Authors have indeed in- 
dulged the fancy, that becaufe the life which 

mankind 



PASTORAL POETRY. 107 

mankind at firft led was rural, therefore their LE c T. 
firfl Poetry was Paftoral, or employed in the ^^^^^^^* 
celebration of rural fcenes and objedts. I make 
no doubt, that it would borrow many of its 
images and alluiions from thofe natural obje6ls 
with which men were beft acquainted ; but I 
am perfuaded that the calm and tranquil fcenes 
of rural felicity were not, by any means, the 
firft objects which infpired that ft rain of Compo- 
fition which we now call Poetry. It was infpired, 
in the firft periods of every nation, by events 
and objedls which roufed men's paffions ; or, at 
leaft, awakened their wonder and admiration. 
The anions of their Gods and Heroes, their 
own exploits in war, the fucceflTes or misfortunes 
of their countrymen and friends, furniflied the 
firft Themes to the Bards of every country. 
What was of a Paftoral kind in their Compofi- 
tions, was incidental only. They did not think 
of chufing for their Theme the tranquillity and 
the pleafures of the country, as long as thefe 
were daily and familiar obje^s to them. It was 
not jtiU men had begun to be aftembled in great 
cities, after the diftin6tions of rank and ftatiou 
were formed, and the buftle of Courts and large 
Societies was known, that Paftoral Poetry a& 
fumed its prefent form. Men then began to 
look back upon the more fimple and innocent 
life which their forefathers led, or which, at 
leaft, they fancied them to have led: they 
looked back upon it with pleafure ; and in thofe 
rural fcenes, and paftoral occupations, imagining 
a d^gr^Q of felicity to take place fuperior to what 

they 



io8 PASTORAL POETRY. 

L E c T. they now enjoyed, conceived the idea of cele- 
' brating it in Poetry. It was in the court of 
King Ptolemy that Theocritus wrote the firft 
Paftorals with which we are acquainted \ and in 
the court of Auguftus he was imitated by Virgil. 

But whatever may have been the origin of 
Paftoral Poetry, it is, undoubtedly, a natural 
and very agreeable form of Poetical Compofi- 
tion. It recals to our imagination thofe gay 
fcenes, and pleafing views of nature, which 
commonly are the delight of our childhood and 
youth ; and to which, in more advanced years, 
the greateft part of men recur with pleafure. It 
exhibits to us a life with which we are accuf- 
tomed to aflbciate the ideas of peace, of leifiire, 
and of innocence ; and therefore we readily fet 
open our heart to fuch reprefentations as pro- 
mife to banifh from our thoughts the cares of 
the world, and to tranfport us into calm Elyfian 
regions. At the fame time, no fubje£t feems 
to be more favourable to Poetry. Amidfb rural 
Objedls, nature prefents, on all hands, the fineft 
field for defcription; and nothing appears to 
flow more, of its own accord, into Poetical 
Numbers, than rivers and mountains, meadows 
and hills, flocks and trees, and fliepherds void 
of care. Hence this fpecies of Poetry has, at 
all times, allured many Readers, and excited 
many Writers. But, notwithfl;anding the ad- 
vantages it poflefles, it will appear, from what 
I have farther to obferve upon it, that there id 
hardly aay fp^ies. of. Poetry which is more difc 

ficult 



PASTORAL POETRY. 



109 



ficult to be carried to perfedlion, or in which L E c T. 
fewer Writers have excelled. xxxix. 

Pastoral life may be confidered in three dif- 
ferent viewi?; either fuch as it now a6tually is ; 
when the ftate of fhepherds is reduced to be a 
mean, fervile, and laborious ftate ; when their 
employments are becomis difagreeable, and their 
ideas grofs and low : or fuch as we may fuppofe 
it once to have been, in the more early arid 
fimplei ages, when it was a life of eafe and 
abundance ; when the wealth of meil confifted 
chiiefly in flocks and herds, and the fhepherd, 
though unrefined in his manners, was reljpedlable 
in his ftate : or, iaftly, fuch as it never was, and 
never can in reality be, when, to the eafe, in- 
nocence, and fimplicrty of the early ages, we 
attempt to add the poliftied tafte and cultivated 
manners of modern times: Of thefe three 
ftates, the firft is too grofs and mean, the laft 
too refined and unnatural, to be made the 
ground-work of Paftoral Poetry. Either of 
thefe extremes is a rock upon which the Poet 
will fplit, if he approach too near it. We fliall 
be difgufted if he give us too much of the fer- 
vile employments and low ideas of adlual 
peafants, as Theocritus is cenfured for having 
fometimes done ; and if, like fome of the French 
and Italian Writers of Paftorals, he makes his 
Shepherds difcourfe as if they were courtiers and 
fcholars, he then retains the name only, but 
wants the ipirit of Paftoral Poetry. 

He 



no PASTORAL POETRY. 

L E c T. He muft, therefore, keep in the middle ftaiion 
AAAiA. i)et^ggQ thefe. He muft form to himfelf the 
idea of a rural ftate, fuch as in certain periods 
of Society may have a6lually taken place, where 
there was eafe, equality, and innocence ; where 
Shepherds were gay and agreeable, without be- 
ing learned or refined; and plain and artlefs, 
without being grofs and wretched. The great 
charm of Paftoral Poetry arifes from the view 
which it exhibits of the tranquillity and happi- 
nefs of a rural life. This pjeafing illufion, there- 
fore, the Poet muft carefully maintain. He 
muft difplay to us all that is agreeable in that 
ftate, but hide whatever is difpleafing*. Let 

4 him 



* In the following beautiful lines of the firft Eclogue, Virgil 
has, in the true fpirit of a Paftoral Poet, brought together as 
agreeable an aifemblage of images of rural pleafure as can any 
where be found : 

Fortunate fenex ! hie inter flumina nota, 
Et fontes facros frigus captabis opacum. 
Hinc tibi, quae femper vicino ab limite fepes, 
Hyblaeis apibus, florem depafta falifti, 
Saepe levi foranum fuadebit inire fufurro, 
Hind alta fub rupe canet frondator ad auras ; 
Nee tamen interea, raucae, tua cura, palumbes, 
Ncc gemere aeria ceffabit turtur ab ulmo. 

Happy old man ! here mid th' accuftom'd ftreams 
And facred fprings you'll fhun the fcorching beams 5 
While from yon willow fence, thy pafture's bound. 
The bees that fuck their flowery ftores around, 
Shall fweetly mingle with the whifpering boughs. 
Their lulling murmurs, and invite repofe. 

Whilf 



PASTORAL POETRY. 1 1 1 

him paint its' fimplicity and innocence to the L E c T. 
full, but covet its rudenefs and mifery. Dif- 
treffes, indeed, and anxieties, he may attribute 
to it ; for it would be perfeftly unnatural tofup- 
pofe any condition of human life to be* without 
them ; but they mull be of fiich a nature as not 
to Ihock the fancy with any thing peculiarly 
difgufting in the Paftoral life. The Shepherd 
may well be afflifted for the difpleafure of his 
miftrefs, or for the lofs of a favourite lamb. It' 
is a fufficient recommendation of any ftate, to 
have only fuch evils as thefe to deplore. In 
Ihort, it is the Paftoral life fomewhat embellifhed 
and beautified, at leaft feen on its faireft fide 
only, that the Poet ought to prefent to us. But 
let him take care that, in embelliftiing nature, 
he do not altogether difguife her ; or pretend to 
join with rural fimplicity and happinefs, fuch 
improvements as are unnatural and foreign to it. 
If it be not exa6Hy real life which he prefents 
to us, it muft, however, be fomewhat that re- 
fembles it. This, in my opinion, is the general 
idea of Paftoral Poetry. But, in order to exa- 
mine it more particularly, let us confider, firft, 
the fcenery; next, the charafilers; and laftly, 
the fubje6ls and adtions which this fort of Com- 
pofition fliould exhibit. 



While from deep rocks the pruner's fong is heard ; 
Nor the foft cooing dove, thy favorite bird, 
Meanwhile fhall ceafe to breathe her melting ftrain. 
Nor turtles from th* aeria^ elms to plain. Wharton". 

As 



112 PASTORAL POETRY. 

L E CT. As to the Scene, it is clear, that it muft al- 
^^^^^^* ways be laid in the country, and much of the 
Poet's merit dejpends on d^fcribing it beauti- 
fully. Virgil is, in this reQieft, excelled by 
Theocritus, whofe defcriptions of natural beau- 
ties are richer, and more pifiburefque than thofe 
of the other *. In every Paftoral, a fcene, or 
rural profpe^t, Ihould be diftin6lly drawn, ^nd 

fet 



* What rural fcenery, for inftance, can be painted in move 
lively colours than the following defcription exhibits ? 



if TE fiaQiioctq 



*'Ey Ti viOTfAOLTOKn ypya6&T6j ^*yǤE0*(7i. 
TL9XKa.i o a/x/uty viri^9t Kocra, x^aro? %)9Eoyro* 
"AJyu^ot ttfTEXEca Tf TO 5* lyylQsv U^ov o^u^ 

TETTiyEj'XfltXotyEuyTEj Ep^oy txrovov. » ^ oXoXvywy 

T»jXo0Ey ly TTUJayaTcr* Pocrm r^v^iOTCiv a.)ir»y9a»J« 

"AttJoy Ko^v^oi XM axavGt^Ej srEVf r^vytav* 

n&>Tftn>To f&Oal vTifi 'bA^oc^ko^ a/xf i ^eXKrcrock 

Tlobvr oo'^iv depEo; ^Xa iriovoq^ uo'^t ^ uvoi^yi^* 

0;^ai /AEy Wp 7roa'<rl *GTaf» vrXivfaurk ^e fAOcXot 

Aat^iXiug oi^fjui Ixt^XlyScTo* tw o iXE;^uyTO 
"OpTraxsj /Spa fiilXoian xara^piOovEr? Epotr^s* 

Theocrit. Idyll, vii. 132. 

■on foft beds recline 
Of lentifk^ and young branches of the vine : 
Poplars and elms above» their foliage fpread. 
Lent a cool (hade, and ivav'd the breezy head ; 
Below, a ftream, from the nymphs facred cave. 
In free meanders led its muf m'ring wave : 
In the warm fun-beams, verdant (hades among. 
Shrill gralshoppers renew'd their plaintive fong ; 

At 



PASTORAL POETRY. 1 13 

fet before us. It is not enough, that we have l e c t, 
thofe unmeaning groupes of violets and rofes, of ^^^^"^^ 
birds^ and brooks, and breezes, which our com- 
mon Paftoral-mongers throw together, and which 
are perpetually recurring upon us without varia- 
tion. A good Poet ought to give us fuch a 
landfcape, as a painter could copy after. His 
obje3; mull be particularifed : the flream, the 
rock, or the tree, muft, each of them. Hand 
£3rth, fo as to make a figure in the imagination, 
and to give us a pleafing conception of the place 
whi^re we are. A fingle obje6l, happily intro- 
duced, will fometimes diilinguifh and charac- 
teriie a whole fcene ; fuch as the antique ruftic 
Sepulchre, a very beautiful object in a land- 
fcape ; which Virgil has fet before us, and which 
he has taken from Theocritus : 

Hinc adeo media eft nobis via; jamque fepulchrum 

Incipit apparere Bianoris; hie ubi denfa# 

AgricolsB ftringunt frondea EcL. IX,* 



At diftance far, concealed in (hades, alone, 

Sweet Philomela pour'd her tuneful moan : 

Tbe^ lark, the goldfinch, warbled lays of love* 

And fweetly penfive, coo'd the turtle dove : 

While honey bees, for ever on the wing, 

Humm'd round the flowers, or fipt the filver fpring, 

The rich, ripe feafon, gratified the fenfe 

With fummer*8 fweets, and autunm's redolence. 

Apples and pears lay ftrew'd in heaps around. 

And the j^lum's loaded branches kifs'd the ground. 

Fawkes. 

♦ To our mid journey are we come> 

I fee the top of old Bianor's tomb ; 

VOL. iij. I Here 



il4 PASTORAL POETRY. 

L E c T. Not only in profefled defcriptions of the fcenery; 
^°^^^' but in the frequent alluiions to natural obje6ls, 
which occur, of courfe, in Pallorals, the Poet 
muft, above all things, ftudy variety. He muft 
' diverfify his face of nature, by prefenting to uH 
new images ; or otherwife, he will foon become 
infipid with thofe known topics of defcription, 
which were original, it is true, in the firfl Poets, 
who copied them from nature, but which are 
now worn threadbare by inceflant imitation. It 
is alfo incumbent on him to fuit the fcenery to 
the fubjefit of the Paftoral ; and, according as it 
is of a gay or a melancholy kind, to exhibit na- 
ture under fuch forms as may correfpond with 
the emotions or fentiments which he defcribes. 
Thus Virgil, in his fecond Eclogue, which con- 
tains the Lamentation of a defpairing Lover, 
gives, with propriety, a gloomy appearance to 
the fcene : • 

Tantum inter denfas, umbrofa cacumina, fagos, 
AiEdue veniebat; ibi haec Incondita folus 
Montibus & fylvi^ ftudio ja£tabat inani *. 

With regard to the charafters, or perfons, 
which are proper to be introduced into Pallorals, 
it is not enough that they be perfons refiding in 



ft 



Here Mxris, where the fwains thick branches pruoe^ 
And llrew their leaves, our voices let U6 tune. 

Warton. 

Mi4 fliapee of thickeft beech he pin'd alone, 
To the wild woods and mountaips made his moan ; 
Still day by day, in incoherent ftrains, 
^TwM aU he couldy defpairmg told his pains. Warton. 

the 



PASTORAL POETRY. 



"5 



tlie country. The adventures, or the difcourfes L E c T, 
dT courtiers or citizens, in the country, are not ^^^ 
wbat we look for in fuch Writings ; we expert 
to be entertained by Shepherds, or perfons wholly 
engaged in rural occupations ; whofe innocence 
and freedom from the cares of the world may, 
in our imagination, form an agreeable contrail 
with die maimers and chara6ters of thofe who 
are engaged in the buflle of life. 

One of the principal difficulties which here 
occurs has been already hinted ; that of keeping 
flie exa6t medium between too much rufticity 
on the one hand, and two much refinement on 
the other. The Shepherd, affuredly, muft be 
plain and unafie6ted in hjs manner of thinking, 
on .all fubjedts. An amiable iimplicity mufl be 
the ground. work of his chai'a^er. At the fame 
time, there is no neceffity for his being dull and 
infipid. He may have good fenfe and refle6lion ; 
he may have fprightlinefs and vivacity ; he may 
have very tender and delicate feelings j l^nce 
thefe are, more or lefe, the portion of men in all 
ranks of. life; and fince, undoubtedly, there 
was much genius in the world, before there 
v^tre learning, or arts, to refine it. But then he 
mud not iubtilile ; he muA not deal in geaeral 
refle£tions, and abllra6); reafoning ; apd ftilllefs 
in the points and conceits of an afire6ted gallan- 
try, which furely belong not to his chara6ler 
and fituation. Some of thefe conceits are the 
chief blemifties of the Italian Paftorala, which 
4U'« otherwil^ beauti&l. Wbea Afiaanta, in 

I a Taffo, 



Il6 PASTORAL POETRY. 

I* E c T. Taflb, is difentangling his Miftrefs's hair from 
the tree to which a f%vage had bound it, he is 
reprefented as faying : ** Cruel tree ! how 
^' couldft thou injure that lovely hair which did 
*' thee fo much honour ? thy rugged trunk was 
*^ not worthy of fuch lovely knots. What ad- 
** vantage have the fervants of love, if thofe 
** precious chains are common to them, and to 
*« the trees* ?'* Such drained fentiments as 
thefe, ill befit the woods. Rural perfonages are 
fuppofed to fpeak the language of plain fenfe, 
and natural feelings. When they defcribe, or 
relate, they do it with fimplicity, and naturally 
allude to rural circumilances ; as in thofe 
beautiful lines of one of Virgil's Eclogues : 

Sepibus in noftris parvam te rofcida mala 
. (Dux ego vefter eram) vidi cum matre legentem ; 
Alter ab undecimo tum me jam ceperat amius. 
Jam fraglles poteram a terra contingere ramos. 
Ut vidi, ut perii, ut me malus abftulit error f . 



^ Gia di nodi fi bei non era degno 
Cofi rovido tronco ; or che vantaggio 
Ilanno i fervi d'amor, fe lor commun% 
E'con le piante ill pretiofo laccio ? 
Pianta crudel ! poteili quel bel crine 
Offender, tu, ch'a te feo tanto onore i Atto III. Sc Jg 

j" Once with your mother to our fields you came 
For dewy apples ; thence I date my flame ; 
The choiceil fruit I pointed to your view, 
Though young, my raptured foul was fix'd on you ; 
The boughs I juft could reach with little arms ; 
But then, even then, could feel thy powerful charms. 
O, how I gazM, in pleafing tranfport toft ! 
. How glow'd mj heart in f weet ddtufiou loft ! Wartov. 

4 I» 




PASTORAL POETRY. * 1x7 

In another paffage, he makes a Shepherdefe L e c x, 
throw an apple at her lover : 

Turn fugit ad falices, et fe cupit ante videri *. 

This is ndive^ as the French exprefs it, and per- 
fe6lly fuited to Paftoral manners. Mr. Pope 
wanted to imitate this paflagejand, as he thought, 
to improve upon it. He does it thus ; 

The fprightly Sylvia trips along the green. 
She runs ; but hopes {he does not run unfeen ; 
While a kind glance at her purfuer flies. 
How much at variance are her feet and eyes ! 

This falls far fhort of Virgil ; the natural and 
pleafing fimplicity of the defcription is de- 
ftroyed, by the quaint and affefted turn in the 
laft line : " How much at variance are her feet 
and eyes.** 

Supposing the Poet to have formed correct 
ideas concerning his Paftoral characters and 
perfonages ; the next enquiry is, About what is 
he to employ them ? and what are to be the fub- 
je6ls of his Eclogues ? For it is not enough, 
that he gives us Shepherds difcourfing together. 
Every good Poem, of every kind, ought to have 
a fubje6l which fhould, in fome way, intereft us. 
Now, here, I apprehend, lies the chief difficulty 
of Paftoral Writing. The a6live fcenes of 
country life either are, or to moft defcribers 



* My Phyllis me with pelted applet plies ; 
Then, tripping to the wood, the wanton hies. 
And wiihes to be feen before (he flies. Drydek. 

Tf 3 appear 



1x8 PASTORAL POETRY. 

I 

LEG T. 4ppeat to bei, too barren of incidents. The ffate 
,*^^^^\ of a fhepherd, or a perfon occupied in rural em- 
ployments only, is expofed to few of thofe acci- 
dents and revolutions which rendef his fituation 
interefting, or produce curiofity or furprife. 
The tenor of his life is uniform. His ambition 
is conceived to be without policy, and his ^love 
without intrigue. Hence it is, that^ of all 
Poems, the mofl meagre commonly in the fub- 
je6l, and the lead diverfified in the ilrain, is the 
Paftoral. From the firft lines, we can, generally, 
guefs at all thkt is to follow. It is either a Shep- 
herd who fits down folitary by a brook, to 
lament the abfence or cruelty of his miftre(s, 
and to tell us how the trees wither, and the 
flowers droop, now that flie is gone ; or we have 
two Shepherds who challenge one another to 
fing, rehearfing alternate verfes, which have 
little either of meaning or fubjedt, till the Judge 
rewards one with a fludded crook, and another 
with a beechfen bowl* To the frequent repeti- 
tion of common-place topics, of this fort, which 
Jhave been thrummed over by all Eclogue Writers 
fince the days of Theocritus and Virgil, is owing 
much of that infipidity which prevails ift Paftoral 
Compofitions. 

I MUCH queilion, however, whether this iii>. 
fipidity be not owing to the fault of the Poets, 
and to their barren and flavilh imitation of the 
antient paftoral topics, rather than to the con- 
fined nature of the fubjefil* For why may not 
Paftoral Poetry take a wider range? Human 

nature 



PASTORAL POETRY. 1 1^ 

nature and human paffions are much the iame in L £ c T. 
every rank of life ; and wherever thefe paffions 
operate on obje6ls that are within the rural 
iphere, therd may be a proper fubjedl for Paf- 
toral. One woulcj indeed choofe to [remove 
from this fort of Compofition the operations of 
violent mi direful paffions, and toprefent fuch 
only as are confident with innocence, fimplicity, 
and virtue. Bi|t under this limitation, there will 
ilill be abundant fcope for a careful obferver of 
nature to exert his genius. The various ad- 
ventures which give occafion to thofe engaged 
in country life to diiplay their difpofition and 
temper j the fcenes of domeflic felicity or dif- 
quiet ; the attachment of friends and of brothers ; 
the rivalihip and competitions of lovers ; the 
unexpe^ed fuccefles or misfortunes of families, 
might give occafion to many a pleafing and ten- 
der incident ; and were more of the nairrative 
and fentimental intermixed with the defcriptive 
in this kind of Poetr}'^, it would become much 
more interefting than it now generally is, to the 
bulk of readers*. 

The two great fathers of Paftoral Poetry are, 
Theocfitus and Virgil. Theocritus was a Sicilian ; 
and as he has laid the fcene of his Eclogues ifi 



* The above obfervations on the barrexinefs of the comxqon 
Eclogues were written before any tranflation from the German 
h^ made us acquainte|} in this country with Gefner's Idylls, in 
which the ideas that had occurred to tne for the improvement 
of Paftoral Poetry, are fully realized. 

14 hi$ 



120 PASTORAL POETRY. 

tjecT . his own country, Sicily became ever afterwards a 
,^Xaix.^ f^j^ Qf confecrated ground for Pafloral Poetry. 

His Idyllia, as he has entitled them, are not aH 
of equal merit ; nor indeed are they all Paftorals; 
but fome of them, poems of a quite different 
nature. In fhch, however, as are properly Pat 
torals, there are many and great beauties. He 
is diftinguiflied for the fimplicity of his fentJ- 
ments ; for the great fweetnefs and harmony of 
his numbers, and for the richnefs of his fcenery 
and defcription. He is the original, of which 
Virgil is the imitator. For moft of Virgil's 
higheft beauties in his Eclogues are copied from 
Theocritus ; in many places he has done nothing 
more than tranflate him. He muft be allowed, 
However, to have imitated him with great judg- 
ment, and in fome refpe6ls to have improved 
upon him. For Theocritus, it cannot be denied, 
defcends fometimes into ideas that are grofs and 
mean, and makes his Ihepherds abufive and im- 
modeft; whereas Virgil is free from offenfive 
rufticity, and at the fame time preferves the 
charafter of paftoral fimplicity. The fame dif- 
tinftion obtains between Theocritus and Virgil, 
as between many other of the Greek and Roman 
writers. The Greek led the way, followed na- 
ture more clofely, and (hewed more original 
genius. The Roman difcoyi^red more of the 
polifti and correftnefs of art. We have a few 
remains of other two Greek Poets in the Paftoral 
Style, Mofchus and Bion, which have very con- 
jpderable merit j and if they v^ant the fimplicity 

of 



PASTORAL POETRY, iti 

of Theocritus^ excel him in tendernefs and leg T, 
delicacy • ^™^ 

The modern writers of Paftorals have, gene- 
rally, contented themfelves with copying, or 
imitating, the defcriptions and fentiments of 
the antient Poets. Sanna^^fii^, indeed, a fa- 
mous Latin Poet, in the age of Leo X, attempted 
a bold innovation. He compofed Pifcatory 
Eclogues ; changing the fcene from Woods to the 
Sea, and from the life of Shepherds to that of 
Filhermen. But the innovation was fo unhappy, 
that he has gained no followers. For the life of 
Filhermen is, obvioufly, much more hard and 
toilfome than that of Shepherds, and prefents to 
the fancy much lefs agreeable images. Flocks, 
and Trees, and Flowers, are obje6ls of greater 
beauty, and more generally relifhed by men, 
than fifhes and marine produ6lions. Of all the 
moderns, M. Gefner, a Poet of Switzerland, has 
been the mod fuccefsful in his Paftoral Compofi^ 
tions. He has introduced into his Idylls (aaj 
he entitles them) many new ideas. His rural 
foeHery is often ftriking, and his defcriptions 
are lively. He prefents paftoral life to us, with 
all the embellilhments of which it is fufceptible; 
but without any excefs of refinement. What 
forms the chief merit of this Poet, is, that he 
writes to the heart } and has enriched the fubjeft 
of his Idylls with incidents which give rife to 
much tender fentiment. Scenes of domeftic 
felicity are beautifully painted. The mutual 

afre6lioi( 



ga^ PASTORAL POETRY* 

L EC T > sfkStion of hufbands and wives, of ptfenti 
,^^^^*^, and chfldren, of brothers and fitters, as well at 
of lovers, are difplayed in a pleafing and touch- 
ing manner. From not underflanding the lan- 
guage in which M. Gefher writes, I can be no 
judge of the Poetry of his Style : but, in tli6 
fubje6l and conduS; of his Paftorals, he appears 
to me to have outdone all the Modems. 

Neither Mr. Pope's, nor Mr. Philips's Paf- 
torals do any great honour to the Englifli Poetry. 
Mr. Pope's were compofed in his youth ; which 
may be an apology for other faults, but cannot 
well excufe the barrennels that appears in them. 
They are written in remarkably fmooth and 
flowing numbers : and this is their chief merit ; 
for there is fcarcely any thought in them which 
can be called his own ; fcarcely any defcription, 
or any image of nature, which has the marks of 
being original or copied from nature herCsifi 
but a repetition of the common images that are 
to be found in Virgil, and in all Poets who write 
of rural themes. Philips attempted to be mare 
fimple and natural than Pope ; but he wanted 
genius to fupport his attempt, or to write agree- 
ably. He, too, runs on the common and beateo 
topics ; and endeavouring to be fimple, he be- 
comes flat and infipid. There was no fmall com* 
petition between thefe two Authors, at the time 
when their Pafl;orals were publiflied. In ibopMt 
Papers of the Gtiardiarij ^eat partiality was 
fliewn to Philips, and high praife beflx>wed upOQ 
him; Mr. Pope, refenting this preference, under 

\$ a feigned 



PASTORAL POETRY. ^TJ 

a feigned name, procured a paper to be inlerted t ECT > 

in the Gtmrdianj wherein he feemingly carrier ;^^^^^"^; 

*on the plan of extolling Philips ; but in reality 

fatirifes him mod feverely with ironical praifes ; 

and, in an artful covered manner, gives the palm 

to himfelf*. About the fame time, Mr. Gay 

publiflied his Shepherd's Week, in Six Paftorals, 

which are defigned to ridicule that fort of fim- 

plicity which Philips and his partizans extolled, 

and are, indeed, an ingenious burlefque of Paf- 

toral Writing, when it rifes no higher than the 

manners of modem clowns and nifties. Mr. 

Shenftone's Paftoral Ballad, in four parts, may 

juftly be reckoned, I think, one of the tnoft 
elegant Poems of this kind, which we have in 

Engliih. 

I HAVE not yet mentioned one form in which 
Paftoral Writing has appeared in latter ages, that 
is, when extended into a Play, or regular Drama, 
where plot, chara6ters, andpaiSons, are joined 
with tht fimplicity and innocence of rural rnaru 
ners. This is the chief improvement which the 
Moderns have made on this fpecies of Compofi** 
tion ; and of this nature we have two Italian 
pieces, which are much celebrated, Guarini's 
Paftor Fido, and Taflb*s Aminta. Botb of 
thefe poflefs great beauties, and are entitled to 
the reputation they have gained. To the latter^ 
the preference feems due, as being lefs intricate 
in the plot and condu6t, and lefs ftrained and 



* SeeOuardiaay No.40» 

afie^ed 



It4 PASTORAL POETRY. 

t ? c T. afFefted in the fentiments ; and though not 
,^^^^^, wholly free from Italian refinement (of which I 
fdready gave one inftance, the word, indeed, 
that occurs in all the Poem), itis, on the whole, 
a performance of high merit. The ftrain of the 
Poetry is gentle and pleafing; and the Italian 
language contributes to add much of that foft- 
jiefs, which is peculiarly fuited to Paftoral*. 

I MUST 



♦ It may be proper to take notice here, that the charge 
^igainil TaiTo for his points and conceits, has foxnetimes been 
carried top far, Mr. Addifon, for inftance, in ^ Paper of the 
Guardian, cenfuring his Aminta, gives this example, ** That 
** Sylvia enters adorned with a garland of flowers, and after 
** viewing herfelf in a fountain, breaks out in a fpeech to the 
** flowers on her head, and tells them, that flie did not wear them 
¥ to adorn herfelf, but to make them afliamed.*' " Whoever caa 
«* bear this,** he adds, " may be aflured that he has no taftc for 
*« Pafl:oral." Guard. No. 38. But Taflb's Sylvia, in truth, 
makes no fuch ridiculous figure, and we are obliged to fufpeA 
that Mr. Addifon had not read the Aminta. Daphne, a com- 
panion of Sylvia, appears in converfation with Thyrfls, the con* 
fident of Aminta, Sylvia's lover ; and in order to (hew him, that 
Sylvia was not fo Ample, or infenfible to her own charms, as (he 
affedled to be, gives him this inftance; tnat (he had caught her 
one day adjufting her drefs by a fountain, and applying now one 
flower and now another to her neck ; and after comparing 
ttheir colours with her own, (he l^roke into a fmile, as if (he 
had feemed to fay, I will wear you, not for my ornaments, but 
to (hew how mu9h you yield to me ; and when caught thus ad- 
miring herfelf, (he threw away her flowers, and blu(hed for 

fliame. This defcription of the vanity of a rural coquette, 

fs no more than what is natural, and very different from what 
the author of the Guardian reprefents it. 

This cenfure on Taffo was not originally Mr. Addifon*8. 
pouhoxu-s, in his Mgpiere 4u bienpenfer danshs ouvrages d*efpritt 

appears 



PASTORAL POETRY. j^- 

I MUST not omit the mention of another Paf- L E c T. 
toral Dram^, which will bear being brought into ^^^^ 

comparifon 



appears to have been tlie firft who gave this mifreprefentation 
of Sylvia's Speech, and founded a criticifm on it. Fontenelle^ 
in his Difcourfe on Paftoral Poetry, followed him in this criti*. 
cifm. Mr. Addifon, or whoever was the Author of that Paper 
in the Guardian, copied from them both. Mr.Warton* in 
the Prefatory Difcourfe to his tranflation of Virgil's Eclogues* 
repeats the obfervation. Sylvia's Speech to the Flowers, with 
which fhe was adorned, is always quoted as the flagrant inftance 
of the falfe tafteof the Italian Poets. Whereas, Taifo gives us 
no fuch Speech of Sylvia's, but only informs us of what her 
companion fappofed her to be thinking, or faying to herfelf, 
when fhe was privately admiring her own beauty. After 
changing fo many eminent Critics, for having fallen into this 
ftrange inaccuracy, firom copying one another, without looking 
into the Author whom they cenfure, it is neceflary for me to 
infert the paifage which has occasioned this remark. Daphne 
fpeaks thus to Thyrfis : 

Hora per dirti il ver, non mi refolvo 

Si Silvia h femplicetta, come pare 

A le parole, a gli atti. Hier vidi un fegno 

Che me ne mette in dubbio. lo la trovai 

La preflb la cittade in quei gran prati, 

Ove fra ftagni grace un ifoletta, 

Sovra efTa un lago limpido e tranquillo» 

Tutta pendente in atto, che parea 

Vegheggiar fe medefma, e'nfieme infieme 

Chider configlio a I'acque, in qual maniera 

Difpor doveffe in fu la fronte i crini, 

E fovra i crini il velo, e fovral velo 

I lior, che tenea in grembo ; e fpefTo fpeflb 

Hor prendeva un liguilro, hor una rofa, 

£ I'accoilava al bel candido coUo, 

A le guancie vermiglie, e de colori 

Fea paragone ; e poi, ficome lieta 

De la vittork lampeggiava un rifo 

Che 



126: PASTORAL POETRY. 

l^ £ c T. comparifon with any compofition of this kind, 
^^^^^^^ in any language ; that is, Allan Ramfay's Gentle 
Shepherd. It is a great difadvantage to this 
beautiful Poem, that it is written in the old 
ruftic diale6l of Scotland, which, in a fhort time, 
will probably be entirely obfolete, and not in- 
telligible ; and it is a further difadvantage that 
it is fo entirely formed on the rural manners of 
Scotland, that none but a native of that countiy 
can thoroughly underftand, or relilh it. But 
though fubje^ to thefe local difadvantages, 
which confine its reputation within narrow li« 
mits, it is |full of fo much natural defcription, 
and tender fentiments, as would do honour to 
any Poet. The characters are well drawn, the 
incidents aSe&mgi the fcenery and manners 
lively and juft. It affi)rds a ftrong proof, both 
of the power which nature and fimplicity pofle&, 
to reach the heart in every fort of Writing ; and 
of the variety of pleafing characters and fubje6ts, 
with which Paftoral Poetry when properly ma- 
naged, is capable of being enlivened* 



Che parea cHe dioefie ; io pur vi vinco ; 
Ni porto voi per omamento mio. 
Ma porto vol folpervergogna voflra. 
Perche fi veggia quanto mi cedete. 
Ma mentre ella s'ornava^ e vagheggiava 
Rivolfi gli occhi a cafo, e ii fu accorta 
Ch'io di la m'era accorta, e vergognandoy 
Rizzofi toftoy eifiorlafcio cadere: 
In tanto io piu ridea del fuo rofibre, 
£Ua piu s'arroffiadelrifo mio. 

AmMXii. Atxo 11. jSc. ii. 

I PRO* 



LVRIC fOETRY, ,^7 

I PROCEED next to treat o£ Lyric Poetry, of l E c T. 
thfe Ode; a fpecies oP Poetical Composition ^^^^^, 
Which poffeffes much dignity, and in which 
many Writers have diftinguiflied themfelves, in 
every age. Its peculiar chara6ter is, that it is 
intended to be fung, or accompanied with mufic» 
Its defignation implies this. Ode is, in Greek, 
the lame with Song or Hymn ; and Lyric Poe- 
try imports, that the Verfes are accompanied 
with a lyre, or mufical inftrument. This diftinc- 
tion was not, at firft, peculiar to any one fpecies of 
Poetfy. For, as I obferved in the lad Lefifcure, 
Mufic and Poetry were coeval, and were, ori- 
ginally, always joined together. Bat after their 
i^paration took place, after Bards had begun to 
diake Verfe Compofitions, which were to be* 
recited or read, not to be fung, fuch Poems m 
were defigned to be ftiU joined with Mufic or* 
Song, wjere, by way of diftinftion, called Odes* 

In the Ode, therefore. Poetry retains its firft 
and moil antient form ; that form, under which 
the original Bards poured forth their enthufiaftie 
ftrains, praifed their Gods and their Heroes^ 
celebrated their victories, and lamented their 
misfortunes. It is from this circumftance, of 
tlie Ode's being fuppofed to retain its original 
union with Mufic, that we are to deduce the 
proper idea, and the peculiar qualities of this 
kind of Poetry, It is not diftinguiflied fr^ot 
other kinds, by the fubje6ls on which it is em- 
ployed ; for thefe may be extremely various. I 
know no diftin6ttontrf'fubjc6l that beliwgs to it| 

except 



laS LYRIG POETRV* 

L E c T. except that other Poems are often employed in 
xxax, tjjg recital of actions, whereas fentiments, of 
one kind or other, form, almoll always, the fub- 
je6l of the Ode. But it is chiefly the fpirit, the 
manner of its execution, that marks and cha* 
radieriies it. Muiic and Song naturally add to 
the warmth of Poetry. They tend to tranf- 
port, in a higher degree, both the perfon who 
lings and the perfons who hear. They juftify, 
therefore, a bolder and more paffionate ftrain, 
than can be fupported in fimple recitation. On 
this is formed the peculiar charaSer of the Ode. 
Hence, the enthuiiafm that belongs to it, and 
the liberties it is allowed to take, beyond any 
other fpecies of Poetry. Hence, that neglect 
erf regularity, thofe digreflions, and that diibr- 
der which it is fuppofed to admit ; and which, 
indeed, moft Lyric Poets have not failed fuffi- 
ciently to exemplify in their pra6lice. 

The effefts of Mufic upon the mind are chiefly 
two ; to raife it above its ordinary ftate, and fill 
it with high enthufiallic emotions ; or to foothe, 
and melt it into the gentle pleafurable feelings. 
Hence, the Ode may either afpire to the former 
character of the fublime and noble, or it may 
defcend to the latter, of the pleafant and the 
gay ; and between thefe there is, alfo, a middle 
region, of the mild and temperate emotions, 
which the Ode may often occupy to advantage. 

All Odes may be comprifed under four 
^denominations* Firft, Sacred Odes; Hymns 

addreflTed 



LYRIC POETRY. t2^ 

ftddreffed to God, or compofed on religious fub- t e c T/ 
je6ls. Of this nature are the Pfalms of David,' ,^_ j^', 
which exhibit to us this fpecies of Lyric Poetrjr 
in its high eft degree of perfeftion. Secondly, 
Heroic Odes, which are* employed in the praife 
of heroes, and in tlie celebration of martial ex- 
ploits and great i6tiorts. Of this kind are all 
Pindar's Odes, ' and fome few of Horacfe's. 
Thefe two kinds ought to l^ave fublimity and 
elevation for their reigning charadleiv ThirdlyV 
Moral and Philofophical Odes, where the fenti-^ 
ments are chiefly ihfpired by virtue, frieridfhip, 
and humanity. Of this kind, are. many 6f 
Horace's Odes, and feveral of our beft mo- 
dern Lyi'ic Produ6lions; imd here the- Ode 
poffefles that middle region, which,- as- I ob- 
fcipved, it fometimes occupies.* Fourthly, Fef- 
tive and Amorous Odes, calculated merely for 
pleafure atid amlifement. Of this nature, are 
all Anacreon^s ; fome of Horace's ; and a great 
number of fongs and modern productions, thiat 
claim to be of the Lyric fpecies. The reigning 
chara^ler of thefe, ought to be elegance, fmoothw 
nefe, md gaiety. 

One of the chief difficulties in compofing 
Odes, arifes from that enthufiafm which is under- 
ftood to be a chara6leri{tic of Lyric Poetry. A 
profeiTed Ode, even of the moral kindj but moy^ 
qlpecially if it attempt the fublime, is expe6l"ed 
to be enlivened and animated, in an uncommon 
i:legree, Full of this idea, the Poet, when he 

VOL. Ill, K begins 



139 LYRIC POETRY. 

LECT. begins to write an Ode, if he has any real 
^^^ warpnth of genius, is apt to deliver himfelf up to 
it, without controul or rellraint j if he has it not, 
he flrains after it, and thinks himfelf bound to 
aflume the appearance of being all fervour, and 
all flame^ In either cafe he is in great hazard 
of becoming extravagant. The licentioufiiefs 
of writing without order, method, or connec- 
tion, has infected the Ode more than any other 
ipecies of Poetry. Hence, in the clafs of Heroic 
Odes, we find fo few that one can read with 
pleafure* The Poet is out of fight in a moment 
lie gets up into the clouds ; becomes fo abrupt 
in his tranfitions ; fo eccentric and irregular in 
jiis motions, and of courfe fo obfcure, that we 
eflay in vain to follow him, or to partake of his 
raptures. I do not require, that an Qde ihould 
be as regular in the ilru6ture of its parts, as a 
Dida€Uc, or an Epic Poem. But ftill, in every 
compofition, there ought to be a fubje£l ; there 
ought to be parts which make up a whole i there 
ihould be a connection of thofe parts with one 
pother. The tranfitions from thought to 
thought may be light and delicate, fuch as are 
prompted by a lively fancy ; but ftill they ihould 
be fuch as preferve the conne6lion of ideas, and 
fliew the Author to be one who thinks, and not 
one who raves. Whatever authority may be 
pleaded for the incoherence and diforder of 
ILyric Poetry, nothing can be more certain, than 
that any pompofition which is fo irregular in 
^t8 method, ^ tp become obfcure to the bulk 

of 



LYRIC POETRY. 13* 

of Readers, is fo much vorfe upon that ac- L E C T. 
count*. ^°^^' 

The extravagant liberty which feveral of the 
modern Lyric Writers aflume to themfelves in 
the Verification, increafes the diforder of this 
fpecies of Poetry. They prolong their periods 
to fuch a degree, they wander through fo many 
different meafures, and employ fuch a variety of 
long and (hort lines, correfpondjng in rhyme at 
fo great a diftance from each other, that all 

fenfe of melody is utteriy loft. Whereas Lyria 

— 

* '^ La plupart des ceux qui parlent de Penthoufiafme de 
t( Pode> en parlent comme s'ils 6toient aux-mlmes dans le 
" trouble quails veulent definir. Ce nc font que grands mots 
<f de fureur divine, de tranfports de Pame, de mouvemens, de. 
<< lumierSsy qui mis bout*a-bout dans des phrafes pompeufes^ 
*^ ne produifent pourtant aucune idee diilin^e. Si on les en 
<* croit, I'effence de Penthoufiafme eft de ne pouvoir-^tre com^ 
<* pris que par les efprits du premiere ordre, a la tfite defquels 
*'* ils fe fuppofent, et dont ils excluent tons ceux que 6fent ne 
(^ les pas entendre. — Le beau difordre de Pode eft un effet de 
*< Part ; mais il faut prendre garde de donner trop d'^tendue a 
« ce terme. On autoriferoit par la tons les ecarts imagpnablea» 
** Un poete n'auroit plus qu*a exprimer avec force toutes les 
*< penfees qui lui viendroient fucceffivement ; il fe tiendroit 
^ difp^nfe d'en examiner le rapport, et de fe &ire un plan, dont 
*< toutes les parties fe pretafient mutuelement des beaut^s^ 
*< II n'y auroit ni commencement^ ^i milieu, ni ftn, dans fon 
<^ ouvrage ; et cependant Pauteur fe croiroit d'autant plus fub- 
*^ lime, qu'il feroit moins raifonable^ Mais qui produiroit ime 
^ pareille compofition dans Pefprit du ledeur ? £lle ne laifleroit 
<< qu'un ^tourdiffement, cauf^ par la magnificence et Phar-* 
<< monie des paroles, fans y faire naitre que des idees confufes, 
<< qui chafferoient Pune ou Pautre, au lieu de concourir enfemble 
^* a fixer et a eclairer Pefprit." OeuvRes pe M> De la 
MoTTE, Tome I. Difcours fur POde, 

K z Com. 



1 



13* " LYRIC POETRY. 

L E c T. Compofition ought, beyond every other fi)ecies 
^^^^^^' of Poetry, to pay attention to melody an4 
beauty of found ; and the Verfification of tholb 
Odes may be juftly accounted the bed, which 
renders the harmony of the ftieafure moil fen- 
fibTe to every oommcHi ear, 

Pindar, the great Father <if Lyric Poetry, has 
been the occafion of leading his imitators into 
fome of the defe6ls I have now mentioned. His 
genius was fuWime ; his expreffions ar-e beautiful 
and happy ; his defcriptions pidlurefque, But 
finding it a very barren fubjedl to ling the praifesi 
of thofe who had gained the prize in the pi|blic 
games, he is perpetually digreffive, and fills up 
his Poems with Fables of the Gods and Heroes, 
that have little conne6bion either with his fub- 
je6l, or with one another. The antients ad- 
quired him greatly ; but as many of the hlftories. 
of particular families and cities tp which ho 
alludesy are now unknown to us, he i^ fo ob- 
fcure, partly from his fubje6ts, and partly froni 
his rapid, abrupt manner of treating them, that, 
PQtwithilanding the beauty of his expreffion, our 
pleafure in reading him is much diminifhed. 
One would imagine, that many of his modern 
imitators thought the beft way to catch his Ipirit, 
was to imitate his diforder and obfcqrity. In 
feveral of the choruffes of Euripides and So-, 
phocles, we have the fame kind of Lyric Poetry 
as in Pindar, carried on with more clearnefe 
and connexion, and at the fame time with muplj 
fublimity. 

Op 



LYRIC POETRY. 133 

Of all the writers of Odes, antient or modern, L E c T. 
there is none, that, in point of corre6tnefs, har- ^^^^^^^ 
mony, and happy expreffion, can vie with Ho- 
race. He has defcended from the Pindaric rap- 
ture to a more moderate degree of elevation ; 
and joins connefted thought, and good fenfe, 
with the higheft beauties of Poetry. He does 
not often afpire beyond that middle region, 
which I mentioned as belonging to the Ode ; 
and thofe Odes, in which he attempts the fub- 
lime, are perhaps not always his bed*. The 
peculiar chara6ler, in which he excels, is grace 
and elegance ; and in this Style of Compofition, 
no Poet has ever attained to a greater perfe6lion 
than Horace* No Poet lupports a moral fenti- 
ment with more dignity, touches a gay one more 
happily, or. poffefles the art of trifling more 
agreeably when he choofes to trifle. His Ian- 
guage is fo fortunate, that with a^ fingle word or 
epithet, he often conveys a whole defcription to 
the fancy. Hence he ever has been, and ever 
will continue to be, a favourite Author with all 
perfons of taftp% ' . • ^ 

... t 

Amoxg the Latin Poets of later ages, there. 
have been many imitators of Horace. One of 

" I I ■ I ■ • • m II I ■ «i« t I ■ I n I I ■ ,1 III I !■■■ 

* There is no Ode whatever of Horace's, without great 
beauties, but though I may be lingular in my opinion, I can^ 
not help thinking that in fome of ' thofe Odes which have been 
much admired for fnblimity (fuch as Ode ivi Lib. 4. « Qualerti 
«< miniftrum fulminis alitem," &c,) there appears' fomewhat 
of a ftrained and forced eifprt to'be lofty. , The genius of this 
amiable Poet fhdws itfelf, according to my judgment, to greater 
advantage, in themes of a more teltnperate kind. 

K3 the 



I«34 LYRIC POETRY. 

t E c T. the mod diftinguiflied is Cafimir, a Polilh Poet 
XXXIX. ^ q£ jj^ ]j^(j century, who wrote four books of 

Odes, In graceful eafe of expreffion, he is far 
inferior to the Roman • He oftener afie6ls the 
diblime ; and in the attempt, like other Lyric 
Writers, frequently becomes harfh and unna- 
tural. But, on feveral occafions, he difcovers 
a coniiderable degree of original genius, and 
poetical fire. Buchanan, in fome of his Lyric 
Compoiitions, is very elegant and claffical. 

Among the French, the Odes of Jean Baptiile 
Roufleau have been much and juftly celebrated. 
They poflefs great beauty, both of fentiment and 
expreffion. They are animated, without being 
rhapfodical ; and are not inferior to any poetical 
f^rodu£Uons in the French language. 

hi our own Language, we have feveral Lyric 
Compoiitions of confiderable merit. Dry den's 
Ode on St. Cecilia, is well known. Mr. Gray is 
diilinguifhed in fome of his Odes, both for ten* 
demefs and fublimity ; and in Dodfley's Mifcel- 
lanies, feveral very beautiful Lyric Poems are to 
be found. As to profeffed Pindaric Odes, they 
ire, with a few exceptions, fo incoherent, as fel- 
dom to be intelligible. Cowley, at all times 
harfh, is doubly fo in his Pindaric Compoiitions. 
In his Anacreontic Odes, he is much happier* 
They are fmooth and elegant ; and, indeed, the 
mod agreeable, and the mod perfect, in their 
kind, erf all Mr. Cowley's Poemsr 

li 



LECTURE XL. 



DIDACTIC POETRY— DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 

rjAviNG treated of Paftoral and Lyric Poetry, l E c T. 

I proceed next to Didactic Poetry j under ^^ 
ivhich is included a numerous Clafs of Writings, 
The ultimate end of all Poetry, indeed of every 
Compofition^ fhould be, to make fome ufefulim- 
preflion on the mind. This ufeful impreffion is 
mod commonly made in Poetry, by indirefit me- 
thods ; as by fable, by narration, by reprefen- 
tation of chara6lers ; but Didaftic Poetry openly 
profefles its intention of conveying knowledge 
and inftru6tion. It differs therefore, in the form 
only, not in the fcope and fubftance, from a 
philofophical, a moral, or a critical treatife in 
Profe« At the fame time, by means of its form, 
it has feveral advantages over Profe Inflru&ion. 
By the charm of Verfification and Numbers, it 
renders inilrudlion more agreeable ; by the de- 
fcriptions, epifodes, and other embelliihmenfs, 
which' it may jnterweave, it detains and engages 
the fancy; it fixes alfo udefid circumflances 

K 4 more 



136 DIDACTIC POETRY. 

L E c T. more deeply in the memory. Hence, it id a 
^^* field, wherein a Poet may gain great honour, 
may difplay both much genius, and much know- 
ledge and judgment. 

It may be executed in different manners. 
The Poet ipay choofe fome inftru6live fubjedl, 
and he may treat it regularly, and in form ; or 
without intending a great or regular work, he 
may only inveigh againfl particular vices, or 
make fome moral obfervations on human life 
and charafilers, as is commonly done in Satires 
and Epiftles. All thefe come under the deno- 
mination of Dida6tic Poetry. 

The higheft fpecies of it, is a regular treatife 
on fome philofophical, grave, or ufeful fubje6l. 
Of this nature we havefeveral, both antient and 
modern, of great merit and chara6ler : fuch as 
Lucretius's fix Books De Rerum Natura, Vir- 
gil's Georgics, Pope's Effay on Criticifm, Aken- 
iide's Pleafures of the Imagination, Armftrong 
on Health, Horace's, Vida's, and Boileau^s Art 
of Poetry. 

' In all fuch works, as inftru6lion is the pro- 
feffed obje6l, the fundamental merit confifts in 
found thought, juft principles, clear and apt illyf- 
trations. The Poet mull inftru6l ; but he mull 
ftudy, at the fame time, to enliven his inllruc- 
tions, by the introdu6lion of fuch figures, and 
fuch circumHances, as may amufe the imagina- 
tion, may conceal the drynels of his fubjedl, 

and 



,DIDACTIC POEfltY. l jy 

and embellifh it with poetical painting. Vii^U, L £ c T, 
in his Georgics, prefents ns here with a perfe6l , y ^ 
inodeL He ha8 the art of raifihg and beautify- 
ing the mpft trivial qircura/lances iii TUral life. 
When hp i^ going to fay, t|iat th€' labour of the 
country muft. begin in fpripg^ he exprefT^s hitti- 
felf thus: . i r 

Vere novo, gelidus canis cu;rt montitus Kumoi' 
Liquitur, et Zephyro.putris fe gleba refolvit; 
iDepreflb incipiat jam turn piihi Taurus aratro 
Ingemere, et fulcd attritus fplendefcere voiiier *• 

Instead of telling his hufbandman in plain 
language, that his crops will fail through bad 
management, his language is, 

Heu magnum alterius fruftra fpeQabis acervum, 
Concuflaque famen in fylvis folabere quercu f . 

% 

Instead of ordering him to water his grounds, 
he prefents us with a beautiful landfcape : 



■*■■ 



* While yet the Spring ia young, while earth unbinds 
Her frozen bofom to the weftern winda ; 
While mountain fnows diflblve againil the Sun, 
And ftreams yet new from precipices run ; 
Ev'n in this early dawning of the year, 
Produce the plough and yoke the fturdy ftefr. 
And goad him till he groans beneath his toil« 
Till the bright (hare is buried in the foil* Drydem. 

f On others crops you may with envy look, 

^ud (hake for food the long abandoned oak. Drydek* 

Ecce 




DIDACTIC P6ETRY- 

Ecc^ fupercilk) divofi tramitis undam 

Elicit I ilia cadenSf raucum per Isevia murmtir 

Saxa det; fcatebrifque arentia temperat arva*. 

In all Ditla£lic Works, method and order is 
eflentially requilite } Hot fo drift and formal aa 
in a profe trcatifej yet fuch as may exhibit 
clearly to the Reader a connefted train of in« 
ftru6lion. Of the Dida6lic Poets, whom I be- 
fore mentioned, Hotace, in his Art of Poetry, 
is the one moft cenfured for want of methods 
Indeed, if Horace be deficient in any thing 
throughout many of his Writings, it is in this, 
of not being fufficiently attentive to jun6ture 
and connection of parts. He writes always with 
eafe and gracefulnefs ; but often in a manner 
fomewhat loofe and rambling. There is, how- 
ever, in that work, much good fenfe and excel- 
lent criticifmj and, if it be confidered as in- 
tended for the regulation of the Roman Drama, 
which feems to have been the Author's chief 
purpofe, it will be found to be a more complete 
and regular Treatife, than under the common 
notion of its being a Syftem of the whole Poetical 
Art. 

* Behold when burning funs, or Syrius' beams 
Strike fiercely on the field and withering &etnSf 
Down from the fummit of the neighbouring hills. 
O'er the fmooth ftones he calls the bubbling rills ^ 
Soon as he clears whatever their pafTage ftay'd* 
And marks their future current with his fpade. 
Before him fcattering they prevent his pains. 
And roll with hoUow murmurs o'er the plains. 

Wharton* 

With 



DIDACTIC POETRY. t^g 

With regard to Epifodes and Embellifliments, L E c t. 
great liberty is allowed to Writers of Dida£tic ^ ^^ 
Poetry. We foon tire of a continued feries of 
inftru6lions, efpecially in a poetical work, where 
we look for entertainment. The great art of 
rendering a Didadlic Poem interefling, is to 
relieve and amufe the Reader, by connecting 
fome agreeable Epifodes with the principal fub- 
je6l. Thele are always the parts of the work 
which are beft known, and which contribute 
mofl to fupport the reputation of the Poet. The 
principal beauties of VirgiPs Georgics lie in 
digreflions of this kind, in which the Author 
has exerted all the force of his genius ; fuch as 
the prodigies that attended the death of Julius 
^Caefar, the Praifes of Italy, the Happinefs of a 
Country Life, the Fable of Arifteus, and the 
moving Tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. In like 
manner, the favourite paflages in Lucretius's 
work, and which alone could render fuch a dry 
and abftra6l fubje6l tolerable in Poetry, are the 
Digreflions on the Evils of Superftition, the 
Praife of Epicurus and his Philofophy, the De- 
icription of the Plague, and feveral other inci- 
dental illuftrations, which are remarkably ele- 
gant, and adorned with a fweetnefs and harmony 
of Verlification peculiar to that Poet. There is 
indeed nothing in Poetry fo entertaining or de- 
fcriptive, but what a Dida6lic Writer of genius 
may be allowed to introduce in fome part of his 
work ; provided always, that fuch Epifodes arife 
naturally from the main fubje6t ; that they be 
not di(proportioned in length to it; and that 

the 



^40 DIDACTIC POETRY. 

t £ C T. the Author know how to defcend with propriety 
y^ to the plain, as well as how to rife to the bold 
and figured Style. 

Much art may be fliewn by a Dida6lic Poetj 
in connedling his Epifodes happily with his fub* 
je6l. Virgil is alfo diftinguilhed for his addrefs 
in this point. After feeming to have left his 
hulbandmen, he again returns to them very na* 
turally, by laying hold of fome rural circum* 
ftance, to terminate his digreflion. Thus, hav* 
ing fpoken of the battle of Pharfalia, he fuhjoins 
immediately, with much art : 

Scilicet et tenipus veniet, cum finibus illis, 
Agricolo, incurve terram molitus aratro. 
Exefa inveniet fcabr^ rubigine pila : 
Aut gravibus raftris galeas pulfabit inanes, 
Grandiaque efFoffis mirabitur ofla fepulchris *. 

In Englilh, Dr. Akenfide has attempted thd 
mod rich and poetical form of Dida6lic Writing, 
in his Pleafures of the Imagination ; and though^ 
in the execution of the whole, he is not equals 
he has, in feveral parts, fucceeded happily, and 
dilplayed much genius. Dr. Armftrong, in his 
Art of Preferving Health, has not aimed at fo 
high a ftrain as the other ; but he is more equal. 



♦ Then, after length of time, the laboring fvvains 
Who turn the turf of thefe unhappy* plains, 
Shall rufty arms from the ploughM furrows take. 
And over empty helmets pafs the rake ; 
Amus'd at antique titles on the flones. 
And mighty relics of gigantic bones. . • Di^ypEir. 

a and 



DIDACTIC POETRY. I41 

^nd maintains throughout a ch^fte and correfi: L E c t, 
elegance, : . / ^^ 

Satires and Epiftles naturally run into a more 
familiar Style, than folemn Philofophical Poetry. 
As the manners and charadlers, which occur in 
ordinary life, are their fubjeft, they require be- 
ing tt'eatqd with fomewbat of the eafe and free- 
dom of converfation ; and hence it is com- 
monly tlie " niufii^pedeftris/* which reigns in 
fuch Comppfitions, 1 

Satire, in its flrll ftate among the Romans,' 
had a- form different from what it afterwards 
affumed. Its origin is obfcure, and has given 
occaiion to altercation among Critic3. It feems 
to have been at firft a relic of the Antient Co* 
medy, written partly in Profe, partly in Verfei 
^nd abounding with fcurrility. Enriius ^nd Lu* 
cilius corre6ted its groffnefs; and, atlaft, Horaco 
brought it into that form, which now gives the 
denomination to Satirical Writing, Reformat 
tioh of manners is the end which it profeffes to 
have in view j and in order to this end, it affumes 
the liberty of boldly cenfuring vice and vicious 
chara6lers. It has been carried on in three 
different manners, by the three great Antient 
Satirifts, Horace, Juvenal, and Perlius. Ho- 
race-s Style has not much elevation. He en- 
titles his Satires, ^' Sermones,-' and feems not 
to have intended riling much higher than Profe 
put into numbers. His riianner is ealy and 
graceful. They ^re rather tte follies and weakr 

»efle$^ 




142 ^ DIDACTIC POETRY. 

L £ c T. nefles of mankind, than their enormous vicea^ 
which he choofes for the obje6t of his Satire. He 
reproves with a fmiling afpe£t; and while he 
moralizes like a found Philofopher, difcovers, at 
the fame time, the politenefs of a courtier. Ju^ 
venal is much more ferious and declamatory. He 
has more ftrsngth and fire, and more elevation 
of Style, than Horace ; but is greatly inferior 
to him in gracefulnefs and eafe. His Satire is 
more zealous, more fliarp and pointed, as being 
generally directed againil more flagitious cha^ 
rasters. As Scaliger fays of him, " ardet, in- 
** flat, jugulat,'* whereas Horace's chara6l;er is 
** admiiOTus circum praecordia ludit." Perfius 
has a greater refemblance of the force, and fire 
of Juvenal, than of the politenefs of Horace. 
He is diilinguiflied for fentiments of noble and 
fublime morality. He is a nervous and lively 
Writer; but withal, often harih and obfcure. 

Poetical Epiftles, when employed on moral 
or critical fubje6ts, feldom rife into a higher 
ftrain of Poetry than Satires. In the form of an 
£piille, indeed, 'many other fubjedls may be 
handled, and either Love Poetry, or Elegiac, 
may be carried on ; as in Ovid's Epiflolae He- 
rodium, and his Epiilolse de Ponto. Such 
works as thefe are defigned to be merely fenti- 
mental; and as their merit confifts in being 
proper expreffions of the paffion or fentiment 
which forms the fubje6t, they may afiTume any 
tone of Poetry that is fuited to it But Dida^c 
Epiftles, of which I now fpeak, feldom admit of 

much 



DIDACTIC POPTRY. I43 

ludi elevation. They are commonly intended l E c T. 
I obfervations on Authors, or on Life and cha- , ^^ 
yBtevs i in delivering which, the Poet does not 
urpofe to compofe a formal treatife, or to con- 
ne himfelf ftri^ly to regular method, but gives 
:;ope to his genius on fome particular theme 
rhich, at the time, has prompted him to write. 
n all Didactic Poetry of this kind, it is an im- 
portant rule, " quicquid precipes, efto brevis.** 
fuch of the grace, both of Satirical and Epifto- 
iry Writing, confifts in a ipirited concifenefs. 
niis gives to fuch compofition an edge and a 
ivelinefs, which ftrike the fancy and keep at- 
ention awake. Much of their merit depends 
Ifo on jufl and happy reprefentations of charac* 
ers. As they are not fupported by thofe high 
leauties of defcriptive and poetical language 
ehich adorn other compofitions, we expe£t, in 
eturn, to be entertained with lively paintings 
>f men and manners, which are always pleafing ; 
tnd in thefe, a certain fprightlinefs and turn of 
¥it finds its proper place. The higher Q>ecies 
>f Poetry feldom admit it ; but here it is fea« 
bnable and beautiful. 

In all thefe refpe6ls, Mr. Pope's Ethical 
Epiilles deferve to be mentioned with lignal 
[lonour, as a model, next to perfe6t;, of this 
kind of Poetry. Here, perhaps, the ftrength of 
[lis genius appeared* In the more fublime parts 
Qif Poetry he is not fo diftinguifhed. In the en- 
thufiafm, the fire, the force and copioufnefs of 
poetic genius, Dryden, though a much leis cor* 

reft 



144 DIDACTIC J^OETRY. 

JE- E T/ t'e^ Writer, appears to have been fuperior to 
^^* hixti. One can fcarce think that he was capable 
of Epic or Tragic Poetry ; but, within a certain 
limited region,' he has been outdone by no Poet. 
His tranflation of the Iliad will remain a lading 
monument to. his bono lu*,. as the mod elegant 
^nd highly; finilhed tranflation that, perhaps, 
ever was givpn of any poetical work. iTliat he 
was not iacapable of tender. Poetry, appears 
from tfee Epiftleof EloiiU to Abolard, andirom 
the,yerfes to the Miemory of.au .unfortiinate 
Lady, which are alnioll hia. only Jen timental pro-. 
du£lions } . and which indeed: lare excellent in 
their kind. But the qualities for which he is 
chiefly difl:inguiflied are, judgment, and wit^ 
with a concife and h^ppy expreflion, and a me- 
lodious verlification. ; { fe w , Poets ever had more 
wit, and at ' the fam^ time more judgment^ to 
direct the proper employment of that ?wit. This 
renders his Rape of tli<6 Lock the greateft :mafl:eiv 
piece that perhaps* ^was over compofed,: in the 
gay and fpi:ightly Style } and in his ferious works, 
fuch as his Eflay on Man, and hi/s Ethic Epiftles, 
his wit juft; difcovers itfelf as much, as to give a 
proper feafoniug to grave refle6lions. His imi* 
tations of Horace are fo peculiarly happy, that 
one is at a lofs, whether mofl: to admire the ori- 
ginal, or the copy ; and they are among the 
few imitations extapt, that have all the grace 
and eafe of an original. His paintings of eha-i 
rafilers arc natural and lively in a high degree j* 
and never was any Writer fo happy in that coni. 
cife fpirited Style, which gives animation td 

Satires 



DIDACTIC POETRY; 1«^5 

Satires and Epiftles, We are never fo feiifible of L E c T, 

YT 

the good effe6ls of rhyme in Englifti verfe, as in 
reading thefe parts of his works. We fee it 
adding to the Style, an elevation which other- 
wife it could not have poiTefled ; while at the 
fame time he manages it fo artfully, that it never 
appears in the leaft to encumber him ; but on 
the contrary, ferves to increafe the livelinefs of 
his manner. He tells us himfelf, that he could 
exprefs moral obfervations more concifely, and 
therefore more forcibly, in rhyme, than he could 
do in Profe, 

Among Moral and Dida6tic Poets, Dn Young 
is of too great eminence to be pafTed over with- 
out notice. In all his works, the marks of 
ftrong genius appear. His Univerfal Paflion, 
poffeffes the full merit of that animated concife- 
nefs of Style, and lively flefcription of charac- 
ters, which I mentioned as'particularlyrequifite 
in Satirical and Didaftic Compolitions. Though 
his wit may often be thought too fparkling, and 
his fentences too pointed, yet the \avacity of 
his fancy is fo great, as to entertain every 
Reader. In his Night Thoughts, there is much 
energy of expreffion ; in the three firft, there 
are feveral pathetic pafTages; and fcattered 
through them all, happy images and allufions, 
as well as pious refledlions, occur. But the fen- 
timents are frequently over-drained, and turgid ; 
and the Style is too harfti and obfcure to be 
pleafing. Among French Authors, Boileau has 
undoubtedly much merit in Dida6tic Poetry. 
, VOL. III. L Their 

\ 



jj^S DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 

X E c T. Their later Critics are unwilling to allow him 
^^* any great ihare of original genius, or poetic 
fire*. But his Art of Poetry, his Satires and 
Epiftles, mud ever be efteemed eminent, not 
only for folid and judicious thought, but for 
corre6l and elegant poetical expreffion, and for* 
tunate imitation of the Antients. 

From Dida6lic, I proceed next to treat of 
Defcriptive Poetry, where the higheft exertions 
of genius may be difplayed. By Defcriptive 
Poetry, I do not mean any one particular fpecies 
or form of Compofition. There are few Com- 
pofitionfj of any length, that can be called purely 
defcriptive, or wherein fhe Poet propofes to 
himfelf no other obje6l but merely to defcribe, 
without employing narration, adlion, or m<mil 
fentiment, as the ground-work of his piece. 
Defcription is generally introduced as an embel- 
lifhment, rather than made the fubje6l of a re* 
gular work. But though it feldom form a fe- 
parate fpecies of writing, yet into every fpecies 

of Poetical Compofition, Paftoral, Lyric, Di- 
da6lic. Epic, a1id Dramatic, it both enters and 
poffeffes in each of them a very confiderable 
place ; fo that in treating of Poetry, it demands 
no fmall attention. 

• 
Description is the great teft of a Poet's ima- 
gination, and always diftinguilhes an original 



^ Vid. Poetique Fran^oife de Manno&teL 

from 



DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. .54^ 

from a fecond-rate genius* To a Writer of the L E c Tw 
inferior clafe. Nature, when at any time he at^ ^ ^^ 
tempts to defcribe it, appears exhaulled by thofe 
who have gone before him in the fame track. 
He fees nothing new, or peculiar, in the obje6t 
which he would paint ; his conceptions of it are 
loofe and vague ; and. his expreffions, of courfe, 
feeble and general. He gives us words rather 
than ideas ; we meet with the language indeed 
of Poetical Defcription, but we apprehend the 
obje6l defcribed very indiftinftly. Whereas a 
tru^ Poet makes us imagine that we fee it before 
our eyes; he catches the diftinguiftiing features; 
he gives it the colours of life and reality ; he 
places it in fuch a light that a painter could 
copy after him. This happy talent is chiefly 
owing to a ftrong imagination, which firft re- 
ceives a lively impreflion of the object; and 
then, by employing a proper feledlion of cir- 
eumftances in defcribing it, tranfmits that im- 
preflion in its full force to the imagination of 
others. 

In this feleftion of circumftances, lies the great 
Art of Pidlurefque Defcription. In the firft 
place, they ought not to be vulgar, and com- 
mon ones, fuch as are apt to pafs by without 
remark ; but, as much as poflible, new and ori- 
ginal, which may catch the fancy, and draw 
attention. In the next place, they ought to be 
fuch as particularize the obje6l defcribed, and 
mark it ftrongly. No defcription that refts in 
generals can be good* For we can conceive no- 

L 2 thing 



^48 DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 

j,ECT, thing clearly in the ab(lra6);; all diftinft ideas 
^' ^ are formed upon particulars. In the third place^ 
all the circumftances employed ought to be uni- 
form, and of a piece; that is, when defcribing 
a great objedl, every circuraftance brought into 
view fliould tend to aggrandize ; or, when de- 
fcribing a gay and plealant one, fliould tend to 
beautify, that, by this means, the impreffion may 
reft upon the imagination, complete and entire ; 
and laftly, the circumftances in defcription 
ihould be expreffed with concifenefs, and with 
Simplicity; for when either too much exag- 
gerated, or too long dwelt upon and extended, 
they never fail to enfeeble the impreflion that is 
deiigned to be made. Brevity, almoft always, 
contributes to vivacity. Thefe general rules 
will be beft underftood by illuftrations founded 
on particular inftances. 

Of all profefTed Defcriptive Compofitions, the 
largeft and fuUeft that I am acquainted with, in 
any language, is Mr. Thomfon's Seafons ; a 
work which poflefles very uncommon merit 
The ftyle, in the midft of much fplendour and 
ftrength, is fometimes harfh, and may be cen- 
fured as deficient in eafe and diftin6lnefs. But 
notwithftanding this defedl, Thomfon is a ftrong 
and beautiful Defcriber : for he had a feeling 
heart, and a warm imagination. He bad ftu- 
died and copied Nature with care. Enamoured 
of her beauties, he not only defcribed them pro- 
perly, but felt their impreffion with ftrong fenfi- 
bility. The impreffion which he felt, he tranf- 

Hiits 



DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 



149 



mits to his Readers ; and no perfon of tafle can L E CT, 
perufe any one of his Seafons, without having 
the ideas and feelings which belong to that Sea- 
fon, recalled, and rendered prefent to his mind. 
Several inftances of moll beautiful defcription 
might be given from him ; fuch as, the fliower 
in Spring, the morning in Summer, and the 
man perifhing in fnow in Winter. But at pre- 
fent, I (hall produce a paflage of another kind, 
to ihew the power of a fingle welUchofen cir- 
cumftance, to heighten a defcription. In his 
Summer, relating the effedls of heat in the tor- 
rid zone, he is led to. take notice of the Pefti- 
lence that deftroyed the Englilh fleet, at Cartha- 
gena, under Admiral Vernon ; when he has the 
following lines : 

you, gallant Vernon, faw 



The miferable fcene ; you pitying faw 

To infant weaknefs funk the warrior's arms 5 

Saw the deep racking pang ; the ghaftly form > 

The lip pale quiv'ring ; and the beamlefs eye 

No more with ardour bright ; you heard the groans ' 

Of agonizing Ihips from fhore to (hore 5 

Heard nightly plunged, amid the fuUen waves, 

The frequent corfe. L. 1050.. 

• 

All the circumftances here are properly^ 
chofen, for fetting this difmal^Tcene in a ftrong 
light before our eyes. But what is mod ftriking 
in the picture, is the lafl image. We are con^ 
du6led through all the fcenes of diftrefi^ till we 
come to the mortality prevailing in the fleet, 
which a vulgar Poet would have defcribed by', 
exaggerated expreflions, concerning the multu 

L 3 plied 



I^o DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 

L E c T. plied trophies and vi6lories of death. But, how 
j^ ^'_ , much more is the imagination impreffed by this 
fingle circumftance, of dead bodies, thrown 
overboard every night ; of the conftant found of 
their falling into the waters ; and of the Admiral 
liftening to this melancholy found, fo often 
itriking his ear ? 

Heard nightly plunged, amid the fallen waves. 
The frequent corfe *. 

Mr. 



* The eulogium which Dr. Johnfon, in his Lives of the 
Poets, gives of Thomfon, is high, and, in my opinion, very 
juft : <* As a writer, he is entitled to one praife of the higheft 
<* kind ; his mode of thinking, and of exprefling his thoughts, 
** is original. His Blank Verfe is no more the Blank Verfe of 
** Milton, or of any other Poet, than the Rhimes of Prior are 
** the Rhimes of Cowley. His numbers, his paufes, his did^ion, 
*< are of his own growth, without tranfcription, without imita- 
** tion. He thinks in a peculiar train, and he thinks always as 
*< a mm of genius. He looks round on nature and life, with the 
*< eye which nature beftows only on a Poet ; the eye that dif- 
** tinguifhes in every thing prefented to its view, whatever there 
^< is on which imagination can dehght to be detained ; and with 
*« a mind that at once comprehends the valt and attends to the 
** minute. The Reader of the Seafons wonders that he never 
*' faw before what Thomfon fhews him, and that'he never yet 
** has felt what Thomfon impreffes. His defcriptions of ex- 
" tended fcenes, and gjkneral effefts, bring before us the whole 
** magnificence of nature, whether pleafing or dreadful. The 
** gaity of Spring, the fplendour of Summer, the tranquillity 
•* of Autumn, and the horrer of Winter, take, in their turn, 
** poffeflioa of the mind. The Poet leads us through the ap- 
*' pearances of things, as they are fucceflively varied by the vi- 
** ciflitodes of the year, and imparts to us fo much of his own 
«* enthufiafm, that our thoughts expand with his nnagery, a ad 
'• kindle with hie fenthnents'." The cenfure which the fame 
- ' . * • eminent 



DECRIPTIVE POETRY* Ijt 

Mr. Parnell's Tale of the Hermit is con- l E c T. 
fpicuous, throughout the whole of it, for beau- ^^* 
tiful Defcriptive Narration, The manner of the 
Hermit's fetting forth to vifit the world; his 
meeting with a companion, and the houfes in 
which they are fucceffively entertained, of the 
vain man, the covetous man, and the good man^ 
are pieces of very fine painting, touched with a 
light and delicate pencil, overcharged with no 
fuperfluous colouring, and conveying to us a 
lively idea of the obje6ls. But of all the Eng- 
lifh Poems in the Defcriptive Style, the richeft 
and mod remarkable are Milton's Allegro and 
Penferofo. The colle6lion of gay images on the 
one hand, and of melancholy ones on the other, 
exhibited in thefe two fmall but inimitably fine 
Poems, are as exquifite as can be conceived. 
They are, indeed, the ftorehoufe whence m^ny 
fucceeding Poets have enriched their defcrip- 
tions of fimilar fubje6ls ; and they alone are fuf* 
ficient for illuftrating the obfervations which I 
made concerning the proper fele6lion of cir- 
cumftancGs in Defcriptive Writing, Take, for 
inftance, the following paflTage from the Penr 
ferofo : 

-^ X walk unfeen 



On the dry, fmooth-fliaven green. 
To behold the wandering Moon, 
Riding near her higheft noon^ 



eminent Critic pafTes upon Thomfon's diftion, is no lefs juil and 
well founded, that " it is too exuberant, and may fometimes 
** be chai^ged with filling the ear more than the mind/' 

L 4 L&fe 



IS^ 




DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 

Like one that had been led aftray 

Through the Heaven's wide pathlefs way. 

And oft as if her head fhe bow'd, 

Sto&ping thro' a fleecy cloud. 

Oft, on a plat of rifing ground, 

I hear the far-ofF curfew found, 

Over fome wide watered fhore. 

Swinging flow with folemn roar : 

Or, if the air will not permit, 

Some ftill removed place will fit. 

Where glowing embers through the room 

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom j 

Far from all refort of ntiirth. 

Save the cricket on the hearth, 

Or the bellman's drowfy charm^ 

To blefs the doors from nightly harm j 

Or let my lamp at midnight hour, 

Be feen in fome high lonely tower. 

Where I may outwatch the Bear 

With thrice great Hermes, or unfphere 

The fpirit of Plato to unfold 

What worlds or what vaft regions hold 

Th' immortal mind, that hath forfook 

Her manCon in his flefhly nook 5 

And of thofe Daemons that are found 

In fire, air, flood, or under-ground. 

Here, there are no unmeaning general ex- 
preffions ; all is particular ; all his pi6turefque ; 
nothing forced or exaggerated; but a fimple 
ftyle, and a coUecSlion of flrong expreffive images, 
which are all of one clafs, and recal a number of 
limilar ideas of the melancholy kind : particu- 
larly the walk by moonlight ; the found of the 
curfew-bell heard diftant; the dying embers 
in the chamber j the bellman's call j and the* 

lamp 






DESCRIPTIVE POETRV. 153 

lamp feen at midnight in the high lonely tower. L E c T. 
We may obferve too, the concifenefs of the 
Poet's manner. He does not reft long on one 
eircumftance, or employ a great many words to 
defcribe it ; which always makes the impreffion 
faint and languid ; but placing it in one ftrong 
point of view, full and clear before the Reader", 
he there leaves it. 

" From his fliield and his helmet/' fayi 
Homer, defcribing one of his heroes in battle^ 
From his fhield and his helmet, thei;e fparkled 
an inceflant blaze ; like the autumnal ftar, 
when it appears in its brightnefs from the wa^ 
*' ters of the ocean.'* This is fhort and lively ; 
but when it comes into Mr, Pope's hand, it 
evaporates in three pompous lines, each of 
which repeats the fame image in different 
words J 

High on his helm celeftial lightnings play, ^ 

His beamy ihield emits a living ray j 
Th' unwearied blaze incefTant dreams fupplies 
Like the red (lar that fires th' autumnal fkies. 

It is to be obferVed, in general, that, in de- 
fcribing folemn 01: great objects, the concife 
inanner is, almoft always, proper. Defcriptions 
of gay and fmiling fcenes can bear to be more 
amplified and prolonged ; as ftrength is not the 
predominant quality expe6led in thefe. But 
where a fublime or a pathetic impreffion is in- 
tended to be made, energy is above all things 
required. The imagination ought then to be 
feized at once ; and it is far more deeply im^ 



.1^4 DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 

J, E c T, preffed by one ftrong and ardent image, than 
^^* by the anxious minutenefs of laboured iliuflra- 
tion. — " His face was without form, and dark." 
Xays Oflian, defcribing a ghoft ; " the ftars dim 
^^ twinkling through his form ; thrice he fighed 
^^ over the hero ; and thrice the winds of the 
** night roared around." 

It deferves attention too, that in defcribing 
inanimate natural objedls, the Poet, in order to 
enliven his defcription, ought always to mix 
living beings with them. The fcenes of dead 
and ftili life are apt to pall upon tis, if the Poet 
do not fuggeft fentiments, and introduce life 
iSLtid action into- his defcription. This is well 
known to every Painter who is a mafter of his 
art. Seldom has any beautiful landfcape been 
drawn, without fome human being reprefented 
on the canvas, as beholding it, or on fome ac- 
count concerned in it. 

Hlc gelidi fontes, hlc mollia prata Lycori, 
Hlc nemus 5 hlc ipfo tecum confumerer sevo*. 

The touching part of thefe fine lines of Virgil's 
IS the laft, which fets before us the iriterefl of 
two lovers in this rural fcene. A long defcrip- 
tion of the ^^fontcs^*^ the " nemus^^ and the 



* Here cooling fountains roll thro* flow'ry meads ; 
Here woods, Lycoris, lift their verdant heads; 
Here could I wear my carelefs life away. 
And in thy arms infeniibly decay. 

ViRG. Eel. X. Warton. 

4 "jprfljto,*' 



DESCRIPTIVE POETRY, 



M5 



*' prata^^* in the moft poetical modern manner, l e c T, 

would have been infipid without this ftroke, 

which, in a few words, brings home to the 
heart all the beauties of the place : " hie ipfo 

*' tecum confumerer aevo." It is a great beauty 

in Milton's Allegro, that it is all alive and full 

ofperfons. 

EvEBY thing, as I before faid, in defcription^ 
(hould be ao marked and particular as poffible, in 
order to imprint on the mind a diftin6l and com. 
plete image. A hill, a river, or a lake, rifes up 
more conlpicuous to the fancy, when fome par. 
ticular lake, or river, or hill, is fp^cified, than 
when the terms are left general. Moft of the 
Antient Writers have been fenfible of the ad. 
vantage whicTi this gives to defcription. Thus, 
in that beautiful Paftoral Compofition, the Song 
of Solomon, the images are commonly particu. 
larifed by the obje6ls to which they allude. " It 
" is the rofe of Sharon j the lily of the vallies \ 
«' the flock which feeds on Mount Gilead ; the 
" ftream which comes from Mount Lebanon^ 
" Come with me, from Lebanon, my Spoufe ; 
" look from the top of Amana, from the top of 
" Shenir and Hermon, from the mountains of 
" the Leopards.'' Ch.iv. 8. So Horace ; 

Quid dedicatum pofcit ApoUinem 
Vates ? quid orat de patera novum 
Fundens liquorem ? non opimsis 
Sardinx fegetes feracis \ 
Non seftuofae grata Calabrise 
Armenta ^ non aucum aut ebur Indlcum^ 

Non 



15« 




DJSSCRIPTIVE POETRY. 

Non rura, quae Liris quieta 
Mordet aqua^ tacitumus acnnis *, 

Lib. I. Ode 31. 

Both Homer and Virgil are remarkable for 
the talent of Poetical Defcription. In VirgiPs 
Second iEneid, where he defcribes the burning 
and lacking of Troy, the particulars are fo well 
fele6led and prefented, that the Reader finds 
himfelf in the midft of that fcene of horror. The 
death of Priam, clpecially, maybe fingled out 
as a mafterpiece of defcription. All the cir- 
cumftances of the aged monarch arraying him- 
felf in armour, when he finds the* eneniy making 
themfelves mailers of the city; his meeting with 
his family, who are taking fhelter at an altar in 
the court of the palace, and their placing him in 
the midft of them j his indignation when he be- 
holds Pyrrhus flaughtering one of his fons ; the 
feeble dart which he throws; wath Pyrrhus's 
brutal behaviour, and his manner of putting the 
old map to death, are painted in the moft affe^- 



* When at Appollo's liallowed ihrine 

The poet hails the pow'r divine, 

And here his firft libation pours. 

What is the blelling he implores ? 

He nor defires the fwelling grain, 

That yellow o'er Sardinia's plain. 

Nor the fair herds that lowing feed 

On warm Calabria's flowery mead ; 

Nor ivory of fpotlefs fhine ; 

Nor gold forth flaming from the mine ; 

Nor the rich fields that Liris laves, - 

And eat8 away with filent wave8, Frakci& 

ing 



DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 157 

ing manner, and with a mafterly hand. All L E c T, 
Homer's battles^ and Milton's account, both of ^^ ^ 
Paradife and of the Infernal Regions, furnilh 
many beautiful inftances of Poetical Defcription. 
Oflian, too, paints in ftrong and lively colours, 
though he employs few circumftances ; and his 
chief excellency lies in painting to the heart. 
One of his fulled Defcriptions is, the following 
of the ruins of Balclutha : " I have feen the 
** walls of Balclutha, but they were defolate. 
** The fire had refounded within the halls ; and 
** the voice of the people is now heard no more; 
•' The ftream of Clutha was removed from its 
"place by the fall of the walls; the thiftle 
** (hook there its lonely head ; the mofs whiftled 
" to the wind. The fdx looked out at the win- 
•* dow ; the rank grafs waved round his head. 
** Defolate is the dwelling of Moina. Silence 
" is inthehoufe of her fathers.'* Shakefpeare 
cannot be omitted on this occafion, as Angu- 
larly eminent for painting with the pencil of 
nature. Though it be in manners and charac- 
ters that his chief excellency lies, yet his 
fcenery alfo is often exquifite, and happily 
defcribed by a fingle ftroke, as in that fine line 
of the " Merchant of Venice,*' which conveys 
to the fancy as natural and beautiful an image 
as can poffibly be exhibited in fo few words : 

How fweet the moonlight fleeps upon this bank ! 
Here will we fit, &c. 

Much of the beauty of defcriptive Poetry de- 
penxls upon a right choice of Epithets* Many: 

Poets^ 



t58 




DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 

Poets ^ it mud be confeffed, are too careless in 
this particular. Epithets are frequently brought 
in merely to complete the verfe, or make the 
rhyme anfwer ; and hence they are fo unmeao^ 
ing and redundant j expletive words only, 
which, in place of adding any thing to the 
defcription, clog and enervate it. VirgiPs 
" Liquidi fontes,** and Horace's " Prata cani« 
** albicant pruinis,'* muft, I am afraid, be af- 
figned to this clafs ; for, to denote by an 
epithet that water is liquid, or that fnow is 
white, is no better than mere tautology. Every 
epithet fliould either add a new idea to the 
word which it qualifies, or at leaft ferve to raife 
and heighten its known fignification. So in 
Milton, 

Who ftiall attempt with wandering feet 



The dark, unbottom'd, infinite abyfs. 

And through the palpable obfcure, find out 

His uncouth way ? or fpread his airy flight. 

Upborn with indefatigable wings, 

Over the vaft abrupt ? B. II. 

The epithets employed here plainly add ftrength 
to the defcription, and affill the fancy in con- 
ceiving it; — the wandering feet — the unbot- 
tomed abyfs — the palpable obfcure — the un- 
couth way — the indefatigable wing — ferve to 
render the images more complete and diftindt. 
But there are many general epithets, >vrhich, 
though they appear to raife the fignification of 
the word to which they are joined, yet leave it 
fo undetermined, and are now become, fo trite 

and 



D"EiSCRIPTIVE POETRY^^ jj^ 

Afid beaten iii poetical language, as to be per. l E c T. 
fedlly infipid* Of this kind are " barbarous di£» ^^' 
**'cord — hateful envy— mighty chiefs — bloody 
*' war — gloomy Ihades — direful fcenes/' and a 
thoufand more of the fame kind which we meet 
with occafionally in good Poets ; but with which 
Poets of inferior genius abound every where, as 
the great props of their affected fublimity# 
They give a fort of fwell to the language, and 
raife it above the totie of profe ; but they ferve 
not in the lead to illuftrate the objeft defcribed ; 
on the contrary, they load the Style with a 
langui d verbofity. 

Sometimes it is in the power of a Poet of ge- 
nius, by one well-chofen epithet, to accomplifli 
a defcription, and by means of afingle word, to 
paint a whole fcene to the fancy. We may re-* 
mark this efFe6l of an epithet in the following 
fine lines of Milton's Lycidas : 

Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorfelefs deep 

Clos'd o'er the head of your lov*d Lycidas ? 

For neither were ye playing on the fteep. 

Where your old bards, the famous Druids, He, 

Nor on the fhaggy top of Mona high, 

Nor yet where Deva fpreads her wizard ftream. 

Among thefe wild fcenes, ** Deva's wizard 
" ftream*' is admirably imaged ; by this one 
word, prefenting to the fancy all the romantic 
ideas, of a river floating through a defolate 
country, with banks haunted by wizards and 
enchanters. Akin to this is an epithet which 

Horace 



/ 



l6o DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 

L E c T. Horace gives to the river Hydafpes. A good 
-^^ man, fays he, ftands in need of no arms : 

Sive per Syrtes iter seftuofas, 
Slve fadurus per inhofpitalem 
Caucafum; vel qux loca fabulofus 
Lambit Hydafpes*. 

This epithet " fabulofus*' one of the commen* 
tators on Horace has changed into " fabulofus'' 
or fandy; fubftituting, by a ftrange want of 
tafte, the common and trivial epithet of the 
fandy river, in place of that beautiful pi^ure 
which the Poet gives us, by calling Hydafpes 
the Romantic River, or the fcene of Adventures 
and Poetic Tales. 

Virgil has employed an epithet with great 
beauty and propriety, when accounting for Dae- 
dalus not having engraved the fortune of his fon 
Icarus : 

Bis conatus erat cafus efHngere in auro, 

pis patriae cecidere manus f . .^n. VI. 



• Wriether through Lybia's burning fands 
Our journey leads, or Scythia's lands, 
Amidft th* inhofpitable wafte of fnows, 
Or where the fabulous Hydafpes flows. FaANCls. 

•^ Here haplefs Icarus had found his part. 
Had not the father's grief reftrain'd his art ; 
He twice eflay'd to caft his fon in gold, 
Twice from his hand he drop'd the forming mould. 

DrtduT. 
In this tranflation the thought is juilly given ; but the beauty 
of the expifeffion <* patriae manus," which in the original con« 
veys the thought with fo much teadernefsi is loft. 

Thesb^ 




DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. l6l 

These inflances, and obfervations, may give L E c T. 
fome juft idea of true poetical defcription. We 
have reafon always to dillrufl an Author's de- 
fcriptive talents, when we find him laborious 
and turgid, amaffing common-place epithets and 
general expreflions, to work up a high concep* 
tion of fome obje£t, of which, after all, we can 
form but an indiflin£t idea. The bed defcribers 
are fimple and concife* They fet before us fuch 
features of an object, as, on the firft view, flrike 
and warm the fancy : they give us ideas which 
a Statuary or a Painter could lay hold of, and 
work after them j which is one of the ftrongeft 
and moil decifive trials of the real merit of 
Defcription, 



TOL. m. 



LECTURE XLI. 



THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 

L E C T. A MONO the various kinds of Poetry, which we 
^^ ^ are, at prefent, employed in examining, the 
Antient Hebrew Poetry, or that of the Scrip- 
tures, jullly deferves a place. Viewing thefe 
facred books in no higher light, than as they 
prefent to us the moft antient monuments of 
Poetry extant at this day in the world, they 
afford a curious obje6l of Criticifm. They dif- 
play the tafte of a remote age and country. 
They exhibit a fpecies of Compofition, very dif- 
ferent from any other with which we are ac- 
quainted, and, at the fame time, beautifuL 
Confidered as Infpired Writings, they give rife 
to difcuflions of another kind. ijSut it is our 
bufinefs, at prefent, to confider them not in a 
theological, but in a critical view : and it muft 
needs give pleafure, if we Ihall find the beauty 
and dignity of the Compofition adequate to the 
weight and importance of the matter. Dn 

y Lowth's 



THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 163 

Lowth's learned Treatife, " De Sacra Poefi He- L E e T- 
" braBoruoi/* ought to be perufed by all who ^ ^ ^ 
defire to become thoroughly acquainted with 
this fubjedl. It is a work exceedingly valuable, 
both for the elegance of its compofition, and 
for the juftnefs of the criticifm which it con- 
tains. In this Le6lure, as I cannot illuftrate 
the fubje6t with more benefit to the Reader, 
than by following the tra6l of that ingenious 
Author, I fhall make much ufe of his obfer- 
vations* 

I NEED not fpend many words in (howing, that 
among the books of the Old Teftament there is 
fuch an apparent diverfity in Style, as fufficiently 
difcovers, which of them are to be confidered 
as Poetical, and which, as Profe Compofitions* 
While the hiftorical books, and legiflative writ- 
ings of Mofes, are evidently Profaic in the com- 
pofition, the Book of Job, the Pfalms of David, 
the Song of Solomon, the Lamentations of Jere- 
miah, a great part of the Prophetical Writings, 
andfeveral paflagesfcattered occafionally through 
the hiftorical books, carry the moft ^lain and 
diftinguifhing marks of Poetical Writing. 

There is not the leaft reafon for doubting^ 
that originally thefe were written in verfe, or 
fome kind of raeafured numbers ; though as the 
antient pronunciation of the Hebrew Language 
is now loft, we are not able to afcertain the na- 
ture of the Hebrew verfe, or at moft can afcer- 
tain it but imperfeftly. Concerning this point 

M 2 there 



l64 TH» POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 

L E c T. there have been great controverfies among 
^^^' learned men, which it is unneceffary to our pre- 
fent purpofe to difcufs. Taking the Old Tefta- 
ment in our own Tranflation, which is extremely 
literal, we find plain marks of many parts of the 
original being written in a meafured Style ; and 
the " disje6la membra poetae'' often fliow them- 
felves. Let any perfon read the Hiftorical In- 
trodu&ion to the book of Job, contained in the 
firft and fecond chapters, and then go on to Job's 
fpeech in the beginning of the third chapter, 
and he cannot avoid being fenfible, that he pafles 
all at once from the region of profe to that of 
Poetry. Not only the poetical fentiments, and 
the figured Style, warn him of the change ; but 
the cadence of the fentence, and the arrange- 
ment of the words, are fenfibly altered; the 
change is as great as when he pafles from read- 
ing Caefar's Commentaries, to read Virgil's 
^neid. This is fufiicient to ihow that the Sa- 
cred Scriptures contain, what mufi: be called 
poetry in the flridtefi: fenfe of that word ; and I 
fhall afterwards fliow, that they contain inftances 
of moll of the different forms of Poetical Writ- 
ing. It may be proper to remark, in paffing, 
that hence arifes a moil invincible argument in 
honour of Poetry. No perfon can imagine that 
to be a frivolous and contemptible art, which 
has been employed by Writers under divine in* 
fpiration, and has been chofen as a proper chan- 
nel for conveying to the world the knowledge 
of divine truth. 

Fro^ 



THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. ,5^ 

♦ From the earlieil times, Mufic and Poetry t E C T. 
were cultivated among the Hebrews, In the y*^ 
days of the Judges, mention is made of the 
Schools or Colleges of the Prophets ; where one 
part of the employment of the perfons trained 
in fuch fchools was, to fing the praifes of God, 
accompanied with various inflruments. In the 
ftril book of Samuel (chap. x. 7.) we find, on a 
public occafion, a company of thefe Prophets 
coming down from the hill where their fchool 
;was,; " prophefying,*' it is faid, " with the 
** pfaltery, tabret, and harp before them." But 
in the days of King David, Mufic and Poetry 
were carried to their greatefl^ height. For the 
fcrvice of the tabernacle, he appointed four thou* 
fand Levites, divided into twenty-four courfes, 
and marihalled under feveral leaders, whofe fole 
bufinefs it was to fing Hymns, and to perform 
the inflrumental Mufic in the public worfliip* 
Afaph, Heman, and jeduthun, were the chief 
directors of the Mufic ; and, from the titles of 
fome Pfalms, it would appear that they were alfo 
eminent compofers of Hymns or Sacred Poems. 
In chapter xxv. of the firfli book of Chronicles, 
an account is given of David's infl^itutions, re* 
lating to the Sacred Mufic and Poetry ; which 
were certainly more cofl;ly, more fplendid and 
magnificent, than ever obtained in the public 
fervice of any other nation. 

The general confl;ru6tionof the Hebrew Poetry 
is of a fingular nature, and peculiar to itfelf. It 
confifi;s in dividing every p^od into corre- 

M 3 fpondent^ 



t6$ THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 

L E c T. fpondent, for the moil part into equal members, 
^^^* which anfwer to one another, both in fenfe and 
found. In the firft member of the period a fen- 
timent is expreffed j and in the fecond member, 
the fame fentiment is amplified, or is repeated 
in different terms, or fometimes contrafled with 
its oppofite ; but in fuch a manner that the fame 
ftrufture and nearly the fame number of words 
is preferved. This is the general ftrain of all 
the Hebrew Poetry. Inflances of it occur every 
where on opening the Old Teftament. Thus, 
in Plklm xcvi. " Sing unto the Lord a new 
♦' fong— Sing unto the Lord, all the earth. 
*' Sing unto the Lord, and blefs his name^*— 
•* (hew forth his falvation from day to day. 
•* Declare his glory among the heathen — his 
** wonders among all the people. For the Lord 
** is great, and greatly to be praifed — He is 
*^ to be feared above all the Gods. Honour and 
** majefty are before bim— Strength and beauty 
** are in his fan6luary.'' It is owing, in a great 
meafure, to this form of Compofition that our 
verfion, though in Profe, retains fo much of a 
poetical caft. For the verfion being flri6lly 
word for word after the original, the form and 
order of the original fentence are preferved ; 
which by this artificial ftrudture, this regular 
alternation and correfpondence of parts, makes 
the ear fenfible of a departure from the common 
Style and Tone of Profe. 

The origin of this form of Poetical G>mpoii- 
tion among the Hebrews, is clearly to be deduced 

from 



XLI. 



tux K)ETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 167 

from the manner in which their Sacred Hymns L E c T. 
were want to be fung. They were accompanied .^ 
with mufic, and they were performed by choirs 
or bands of fingers and muficians, whoanfwered 
alternately to each other. When, for inftance, 
one band began the Hymn thus : " The Lord 
•* reigneth, let the earth rejoice ;" the chorus, 
or femi-chorus, took up the correfponding ver- 
ficle, " Let the multitude of the ifles be glad 

•' thereof.*' ^^ Clouds and darknefs are round 

*^ about him/' fung the one ; the other replied, 
" Judgment and righteoufnefs are the habita- 
** tion of his throne.'* And in this manner 
their Poetry, when fet to mufic, naturally di- 
vided itfelf into a fucceflion of ftrophes and an- 
tiftrophes correfpondent to each other ; whence, 
it is probable, the Antiphon, or Refponfory, in 
the public religious fervice of fo many Chriftian 
ehtirfches, derived its origin. 

We are exprefsly told, in the book of Ezra, 
that the Levites fung in this manner •• " Alter- 
** natim," or by courfe (Ezra, iii. n-)> ^^^ 
fome of David's Pfalms bear plain marks of their 
being compofed in order to be thus performed. 
The 24th Pfalm, in particular, which is thought 
to have been compofed on the great and folemn 
occafion of the Ark of the Covenant being 
brought back to Mount Zion, mull have had a 
noble effe6l when performed after this manner, 
as Dr. Lowth has illuftrated it. The whole 
people are fuppofed to be attending the pro- 
ceflion. The Levites and Singers, divided into 

M 4 their 



1^8 • THE POETRY OF THE BUEBlUWr^ 

L E c T. their feveral courfes, and ac<iompanied ^th all 
^^^' their muficai Inilruments, led the way. After 
the Introduction to the Pfelm, in the two firft 
verfes, when the proceflion begins to afcend the 
iacred Mounts the queftion is put, as by a femi- 
chorus, ** Who fliall afcend unto the hill of the 
" Lord, and who fliail ftand in his holy place ?" 
The reQ)onfe is made by the full chorus with the 
greateft dignity : "He that hath clean hands 
«* and a pure heart ; who hath not lifted up his 
*« foul to vanity, nor fworn deceitfully." As 
the proceffion approaches to the doors of the 
Tabernacle, the chorus, with all their inftru* 
ments, join in this exclamation : «' Lift up your 
** heads, ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye ever- 
" lafling doors, and the King of Glory fliall 
** come in.'* Here the femi-chorus plainly 
breaks in, as with a lower voice, " Who is this 
" King of Glory ?" and at the moment when the 
Ark is introduced into the Tabernacle, the re- 
iponfe is made by the burft of the whole chorus : 
•* The Lord, ftrong and mighty; the Lord, 
** mighty in battle.*' I take notice of this iui- 
ftance the rather, as it ferves to (bow how much of 
the grace and magnificence of the Sacred Poems, 
as indeed of all Poems, depends upon our know- 
ing the particular occafions for which they were 
compofed, and the particular circumfl^nces to 
which they were adapted; and how much of 
this^'beauty mull now be loft to us, through our 
imperfe6t acquaintance with many particulars 
of the Hebrew hiftory, and Hebrew rites. 

The 



( 



THl POETRY OF THE HEBREWS; 1^9 

The method of Compofition which has been i. E c T. 
explained, by correlpondent verficles being uni* ^^' 
verially introduced into the Hymns or muiical 
Poetry of the Jews, eafily {pread itfelf through 
their other Poetical Writings, which were not 
defigned to be fung in alternate portions, and 
which therefore did not fo much require this 
mode of Compofition. But the mode became 
familiar to their ears, and carried with it a certain 
iplemn majelly of Style, particularly fuited to 
fitcred fubje£ts. Hence, throughout the Pro- 
phetical Writings, we find it prevailing as much 
as in the Pialms of David ; as, for inilance, in 
the Prophet Ifaiah (chap. xl. i .) " Arife, ihine, 
** for thy light is come, and the glory of the 
^^ Lord is rifen upon thee : For, lo ; darknefi 
** fliall cover the earth, and grofs darknefs the 
** people. But the Lord fliall rife upon thee, 
*^ and his glory fliall be feen upon thee, and the 
^^ Gentiles fliall come to thy light, and kings to 
«* the brightnefs of thy rifing." This form of 
writing is one of the*great chara£ierifl:ics of the 
antient Hebrew Poetry ; very difierent from, 
and even oppofite to, the Style of the Greek and 
Homan Poets, 

Independently of this peculiar mode of con- 
ftru6lion, the Sacred Poetry is difl^inguiflied by 
the highefi. beauties of ftrong, concife, bold, 
and figurative exprefiion. 

Conciseness and ftrength, are two of its moft 
remarkable charaS^ers. One might indeed at firft 

imagine. 



170 



THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS; 



L E c T. imagine, that the pra6lice of the Hebrew Poets, 
of always amplifying the fame thought, by re- 
petition or contrail, might tend to enfeeble their 
Style. But they conduft themfelves fo as not 
to produce this efle6t. Their fentences are 
always fhort. Few fuperfluous words are ufed. 
The fame thought is never dwelt upon long. 
To their concifenefs and fobriety of expreffion, 
their poetry is indebted for much of its fubli- 
mity ; and all Writers who attempt the fublime, 
might profit much, by imitating in this relpeft, 
the Style of the Old Teftament. For, as I hare 
formerly had occafion to fliow, nothing is fo 
great an enemy to the Sublime, as prolixity or 
diffiifenefe. The mind is never fo much affected 
by any great idea that is prefented to it, as when 
it is ftruck all at once ; by attempting to pro- 
long the impreffion, we at the fame time weaJcen 
it. Moil of the antient original Poets of all 
nations are fimple and concife. The fuperfluities 
and excrefcences of Style were the refult of imi- 
tation in after-times ; when Compofition pafled 
into inferior hands, and flowed from art and 
fludy, more than from native genius. 

No Writings whatever abound fo much with 
the moil bold and animated figures, as the 
Sacred Books. It is proper to dwell a little 
upon this article ; as, through our early fami- 
liarity with thefe books, a familiarity too often 
with the found of the words, rather than with 
their fenfe and meaning, beauties of Style 
efcape us in the Scripture, which, in any other 

4 book, 



THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS^ 17 1 

book, would draw particular attention. Meta- L E c T. 
phora, Comparifons, Allegories, j^nd Perfonifica- ^_^^ ^ 
tion$, are there particularly frequent. In order 
to do juftice to tbefe, it is neceffary that we 
traniport ourfelves as much as we can into the 
land of Judaea ; and place before our eyes that 
fcenery, and thofe objects with which the 
Hebrew Writers were converfant. Some atten- 
tion of this kind is requifite, in order to reUfli 
the writings of any Poet of a foreign country, 
and a different age. For the imagery of every 
good Poet is copied from nature and real life ; 
if it were not fo^ it could not be lively ; and 
therefore, in order to enter into the propriety of 
his images, we mud endeavour to place ourfelvea 
in his fituation. Now we fliall find, that the 
Metaphors and Comparifons of the Hebrew 
Poets prejfent to us a very beautiful view of the 
natural object? of their own country, andof thQ 
art3 and employments of their common life* 

Natural obje6ls are in fome meafure com- 
mon to them with Poets of all ages and coun- 
tries. Light and darknefs, trees and flowers, 
the forefl and the cultivated field, fuggeft to 
them many. beautiful figures. But, in order to 
relifli their figures of this kind, we mud take 
notice, that feveral of them arife from the parti- 
cular circumilances of the land of Judea. 
During the fummer months, little or no rain 
falls throughout all that region. While the 
heats continued, the, country was intolerably 
parched} want of watei:' . was ^ great diilrefs; 

and 



tyz 



THIS tOETRY OF THE HEBREW*.' 



L £ c T. ^nd a plentiful Ihower filing or a rivulet break- 
ing iforth, altered the whole face of nature, and 
introduced much higher ideas of refreihment 
and pleafure^ than the like caufes can fuggeft to 
us* Hence, to reprefent diftrefs, fuch frequent 
allufions among th^n, << to a dry and thirfty 
** land, where no water is ;'* and hence, to de- 
icrib^ a change from diftrefs to profperity, their 
■metaphors are founded on the falling of (howers, 
and the burfting out of fprings in the deiart 
Thus in Ifaiah, ^^ The wildemefs and the foli- 
^^ tary place (hall be glad, and the defart fliail 
** rejoice and bloflbm as the rofe. For in the 
^^ wildemefs fliall waters break out, and dreams 
** in the deiart ; and the parched ground 
^ fhall become a pool, and the thirfty land, 
^ Iprings of water; in the habitation of dragons 
** there fliall be grafs, with ruflies and reeds." 
Chap. XXXV. 1. 6, 7. Images of this 'nature are 
very familiar to liaiah, and occur in many parts 
of his Book. 

Again, as Judea was a hilly country, it was, 
during the rainy months, expofed to frequent 
inundations by the rufliing of torrents, which 
came do^n fuddenly from the mountains, and 
carried every thing before them ; and Jordan, 
their only great river, annually overflowed its 
banks. Hence the frequent allufions to ^^ the 
** noife, and to the rufliings of many waters ;'* 
and hence great calamities fo often compared to 
the overflowing torrent, which, in fuch a coun* 
try, muft have bi^en images particularly ftrildiig : 

" Deep 



THE FOETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 1^3 

** Deep calleth unto deep at the noife of thy l e c T* 
^ water-^outs ; all thy waves and thy billows y^ 
** arc gone over me." Fiklm xlii. 7* 

The two mod remarkable mountains of the 
country, were Lebanon and Carmel : the former 
noted for its height, and the woods of lofty cedars 
that covered it i the latter, for its beauty an4 
fertility, the richnefs of its vines and olives. 
Hence, with the greateft propriety, Lebanon is 
employed as an image of whatever is great, 
ftrong, or magnificent : Carmel of what is fini- 
ling and beautiful. " The glory of Lebanon,'' 
fays Ifaiah, << fhall be given to it, and the excel* 
** lency of Carmel.** (xxxv. a.) Lebanon is 
often put metaphorically for the whole ilate or 
people of Ifrael, for the temple, for the king of 
Aflyria ; Carmel, for the bleffings of peace and 
profperity. " His countenance is as Lebanon,'' 
fays Solomon, fpeaking of the dignity of man's 
appearance ; but when he defcribes female 
beauty, " Thine head is like mount Carmel." 
Song, V. 1 5. and vii. 5. 

It is farther to be remarked under this heady 
that in the images of the awful and terrible 
kind, with which the Sacred Poets abound, they 
plainly draw their defcriptions from that vio- 
lence of the elements, and thofe concuflions of 
nature, with which their climate rendered thenji 
acquainted. Earthquakes were not unfrequent} 
and the tempefts of hail, thunder, and light* 
niog, in Jud^ and Arabia, accompanied with 

whirlwinds 



1 

„4 THE POETRY OF THE HEBREW& 

L E c T. whirlwinds and darknefs, far exceed any thing 
^j^ ^ of that fort which happens in more temperate 
regions. Ifaiah defcribes, with great majefty, 
the earth *^ reeling to and fro like a drunkard, 
** and removed like a cottage/' (xxiv. 20.) And 
in thofe circumftances of terror, with which an 
appearance of the Almighty is defcribed in the 
1 8th Pfalm, when his " pavilion round about 
*< him was darknefs ; when hailitones and coals 
** of fire were his voice ; and when, at his re- 
** buke, the channels of the waters are faid to be 
** feen,*' and the foundations of the hills difco- 
" vered ;** though there may be fome reference, 
as Dr.Lowth thinks, to the hiftory of God's 
defcent upon Mount Sinai, yet it feems more 
probable, that the figures were taken directly 
from thofe commotions of nature with which 
the Author was acquainted, and which fuggefl;ed 
ftronger and nobler images than what now occur 
to us. 

Besides the natural objedls of their own coun- 
try, we find the rites of their religion, and the 
arts and employments of their common life, 
frequently employed as grounds of imagery 
among the Hebrews. They were a people 
chiefly occupied with agriculture and pafturage. 
Thefe were arts held in high honour among 
them J not difdained by their, patriarchs, kings, 
and prophets. Little addicted to commerce, 
feparated from the refl: of the world by their laws 
and theii* religion j they were, during the better 
days of their date, Arrangers in a great meafure 

to ' 



THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 1 75 

to the refinements of luxury. Hence flowed, L E c T. 
of courfe, the many allufions to paftoral life, to 
the " green paftures and the ftill waters," and 
to the care and watchfulnefs of a (hepherd 
over his ftock, which carry to this day fo 
much beauty and tendernefs in them, in the 
23d Pialm, and in many other paflages of the 
Poetical Writings of Scripture. Hence, all the 
images founded upon rural employments, upon 
the wine-prefs, the threlhing-floor, the ilubble 
and the chaff. To dilrelilh all fuch images, is 
the effeA of falfe delicacy. Homer is at lead 
as frequent, and much more minute and parti- 
cular in his fimiles, founded on what we now 
call low life j but, in his management of them,^ 
far inferior to the Sacred Writers, who generally 
mix with their comparifons of this kind fome- 
what of dignity and grandeur to ennoble them« 
What inexpreffible grandeur does the following 
rural image in Ifaiah, for inflance, receive from 
the intervention of the Deity : " The nations 
•* fliall rufli like the rulhings of many waters j 
** but God (hall rebuke them, and they fliall fly 
** far off: and they fliall be chafed as the chaff 
^^ of the mountain before the wind, and like 
«* the down of the thiftle before the whirl- 
«« wind." 

Figurative allufions too, we frequently find, 
to the rites and ceremonies of their religion j to 
the legal difl:in£i;ions of things clean and un« 
clean; to the mode of their Temple Service? 
to the drefs of their Priefls, and to the moil 

noted 




1^6 *iPta fOCTRt OP THE HcdRSWA 

L E c T. ooted inddents reccM'ded in tbeir Sacred Hit 
tofj; as to the deftm^lion of Sodoni^ tb0 
defcent of God upon Mount Sinai, and the 
Biiraculous paflage of the Ifraelites throu|^ the 
Red Sea^ Tlie religion of the Hebrews in-* 
duded the whole of their laws, and civil confti- 
tution. It was full of ^lendid external rites, 
that occupied their fenies; it was connefted 
trith every part of their national hiftoiy and 
eftablifliment ; and hence, all ideas founded on 
religion, poffeffed in this nation a dignity and 
importance peculiar to themfelves, and were nn^ 
commonly &ted to imprels the imagination. 

From all this it refults, that the imagery of the 
Sacred Poets is, in a high degree^ expreffive and 
natural ; it is copied diredtly from real ohjeSbSf 
that were before their eyes ; it has this advan- 
tage, of being more complete within itielf, 
more entirely founded on national ideas and 
manners, than that of moft other Poets. In 
reading their works, we find ourfelves continually 
in the land of Judea. The palm-trees, and the 
cedars of Lebanon, are ever rifing in our view. 
The face of their territory, the circumiiances of 
their climate, the manners of the people, and 
the augufl ceremonies of their religion, con- 
ftantly pafs under different forms before us. 

Thk comparifons employed by the Sacred 
Poets are generally fhort, touching on one point 
xmly of refemblance, rather than branching out 
i^to little Epifodeig. In this reipe6l, they have 

lo perhaps 



¥Hfi I*0£T*RY of The ttEBREWS* I77 

perhaps an advantage over the Greek and Rd* t £ c T<r 
man Authors j whole coraparilbns, by the length ^^^* 
to which they are extended, fonietinies interrupt 
the narration too much^ and carry too vifible 
marks of ftudy and labour. Whereas, in the 
Hebrew Poets, they appear more like the glow- 
ings of a lively fancy, jud glancing afide to fome 
refembling obje£l, and prefently returning to its 
track. Such is the following fine comparifon^ 
introduced to defcribe the happy influence of 
good government upon a people, in what are 
called the lail words of David, recorded in the 
2d book of Samuel (xxiii. 3.) : <^ He that ruleth 
" over men muft be juft, ruling in the fear of 
*• God ; and he fliall be as the light of the 
♦* morning, when the fun rifeth ; even a morn- 
** ing without clouds } as the tender graft 
<* fpringing out of the earth, by clear ihining 
** siler rain.** This is one of the mod regular 
and formal comparifons in the Sacred Books# 

Allegory, likewife, is a figure frequently 
found in them. When formerly treating of this 
figure, I gave for an inflance of it, that remark-c 
ably fine and well-fupported Allegory, which 
occurs in the 80th Pfidm, wherein the People 
of Ifirael are compared to a vine. Of Parables, 
which form afpecies of Allegory, the Prophetical 
Writings are full : and if to us they fometimes 
appear obfcure, we muft remember, that in 
thofe early times, it was univerfally the mode 
throughout all the eaftern nations, to convey 

VOL. in. N facred 



1^3 THE fOETRT OF THE 



:iJ4 i t 



^ ^^ ^' fibred truths ooder myfterioas figures aad le* 
]irelefrtstions. 




BfrT tbe Poetical figure, which bejood aD 
ethers, elevates the Ityie of Scriptiire^ sod gives 
it a peculiar boldnefs and fiiblimitj, is Ftofiipo- 
poeia or Perfimificatmn* No perfiNDdficatioiis 
employed by anj Poets, are fo magnificent and 
ftriking as tbofe of the Infpired Writers. On 
great occafions, they animate every part of na- 
ture; eQieciaUy, when any appearance or <qpera* 
tion of the Almighty is concerned. ^ Befeffe 
^ him went the pdlHence — the waters fiiW 
^ thee, O God, and were afraid — the moun- 
•• tains law thee, and they trembled. — TTie 
^ drerfiowing of the water paffed by;— the 
^ deep uttered his voice, and lifted up his 
^ hands cm high." When enquiry is made 
about the place of wiidom. Job introduces the 
^ Deep, faying, it is not in me ; and the fbi 
*^ faith, it is not in me. Deftru6tion and death 
*♦ fay, we have heard the fame thereof with 
^ OUT ears/* That noted fublime paflage in 
the Book of Ifaiah, which defcribes the iaH of 
the King of AfTyria, is fuU of perfonified objefts; 
the fir*trees and cedars of Lebanon breaking 
forth into exultation on the fall of the tjnrant; 
Hell from beneath, ftirring up all the dead to 
meet him at his coming; and the dead kings 
ifltrodttced as fpeaking, and joining in the 
triumph. In the fame flrain are thefe many 
lively and paffioitate apoflrophes to cities and 

10 countries, 






THK WETRY OF THE HEBHeWSL 1^5 

coantries, to perfons and things, with which L E C T, ^ 
the Prophetical Writings every where abound. ^^ T 
•* O thou fword of the Lord ! how long will it 
*• be, ere thou be quiet ? put thyfelf up into 
** the fcabbard, reft and be ftilL How can it 
be quiet,^' (as the reply is inftantly made,) 
feeing the Lord hath given it a charge againft. 
** Afkelon, and the fea ihore? there hath ht 
^ appointed it/' Jerem. xlvii. 64 

hf general, for it would carry uis too far to 
enlarge upon all the inftances, the Style of the 
Poetical Books of the Old Teftament is, beyond 
the Style of all other Poetical Works, fertrid!, 
bold, and animated* It is extremely different 
from that regular corre6t expreffion, to which 
our ears are accuftomed in Modem Poetry. It 
is the burft of inQ>iration. The fcenes are not 
coolly defcribed, but reprefented as paffing 
before our eyes. Every objeS;, and every per- 
fon, is addreifed and ipoken to, as if prefent ; 
the tranfition is often abrupt ; the connection 
often 6bfcure } the perfons are often changed ^ 
figures crowded and heaped upon one another. 
Bold fublimity, not correct elegance, is its cha- 
rafi:er. We fee the ^irit of the Writer raifed 
beyond bimfelf, and labouring to find vent for 
ideas too mighty for his utterance. 

After thefe remarks on the Poetry of the 
Scripture in general, I ihall conclude this Difier- 
tattoo, with a^fhort account of the deferent kinds 
of Poetical Compofiticm in the Sacred Books ; 

N 2 and 



^"f^ gnkr BCETX? ^S 



•^^^'A ^ 





rfaptiCg KtfCTac, Pirfaini, aii£ L^rsc Of cbe 
lAhacji ^edes of Poecrj, ::ae Book 
ju *::ie prixu:ipai JiiLuice. Tjeamemi: 

jBiaii7 'ifit.'ngndhitf zrscss^ nxd 





ftraofc, wii£di » QonrrnTTiHi ta the cad; 

tiiat aitf oi contfrfiftina of paiod, wkidk dsftb- 
fttsfli aS the Hebrew ¥xczj. Tbe Bfmk of 



feme ci tike Ffabns, as the ii9di in 



Of Fiegiac Poetrr, msmj tcij lyMrtifil ^pe- 
cimeiK cpccct ID ScxiptDie ; fiadi as the Laacsti- 
tkm of David ot^ his friend Jocathan i fcicfj i 
fUffiS^es in the Prophetical Books; andlemdi 
of Darid's P&fans, compoM oa oocaSoos of 
di&re& and moumiiig. The 42d Pfkfan in par* 
licular^ is, in the higheft d^iee, trader and 
plaintive* But the moft regular and peifeft 
Elegiac Cotnpofition in the Scripture, pofaj^ 
in the whole world, is the Book, entitled the 
Lamentions of Jeremiah* As the Ifroighei 
mourns in that hock over the deftni£boii of 
the Temple, and the Holy City, and the over* 
throw of the whole State, he affembles all the 



THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS* ^ i8i 

afie6ting images which a fubje€t fo melancholy L E c T. 
could fugged. The Compofition is uncommonly ^^^* 
artificial. By turns, the Prophet, and the city 
Jerufalem, are introduced, as pouring forth their 
ibrrows ; and in the end, a chorus of the people 
fend up the mod earned and plaintive fupplica- 
tions to God. The lines of the original too, as 
may, in part, appear from our Tranflation, are 
longer than is ufual in the other kinds of He* 
brew Poetry j and the melody is rendered 
thereby more flowing, and better adapted to 
the querimonious drain of Elegy. 

The Song of Solomon affords us a high exem« 
plification of Padoral Poetry. Confidered with 
refpedl to its fpiritual meaning, it is undoubtedly 
a mydical Allegory; in its form, it is a Dramatic 
Padoral, or a perpetual Dialogue between per- 
fonages in the character of Shepherds; and, 
fuitably to that form, it is full of rural and 
padoral images, from beginning to end. 

Of Lyric Poetry, or that which is intended to 
be accompanied with Mufic, the Old Tedament 
is full. Beiides a great number of Hymns and 
Songs, which we find fcattered in the Hidorical 
and Prophetical Books, fuch as the Song of 
Mofes, the Song of Deborah, and many others 
of like nature, the whole Book of Pfalms is to 
be confidered as a collection of Sacred Odes. 
In thefe, we find the Ode exhibited in all the 
varieties of its form, and fupported with the 
highed ipirit of Lyric Poetry; ibmetimes 

N 3 fprightly^ 



i89 THR POETRY OF THE BEBEBiWL 

L £ c T« i^ngfatly, cheerful, and triumphant ; fametioM 
^^ , fidemn and magnificent; fometimes tender and 
&>fL From tbefe inftances, it clearly iqfipears, 
that there are contained in the Holy Scripture^ 
full exemplifications of (evend of the chief kindi 
of Poetical Writing. 

Among the different Compilers of the Sacred 
Books, there is an evident diverfity ci ftyle and 
manner ; and to trace their different charaft^s 
in this view, will contribute not a little towards 
our reading their writings with greater advan- 
tage. The mod eminent of the Sacred Poets 
are, the Author of the Book of Job, David^ and 
Jiaiah. As the Compofitions of David are ci 
the Lyric kind, there is a greater variety ci 
ilyle and manner in his works than in thole of 
the otb^r two. The manner in which, confix- 
dered merely as a Poet, David chiefly excels, 
is the pleafing, the foil, and the tender. In 
his Pfalms, there are many lofty and fiiblime 
paffages ; but in ftrength of defcription, he 
yields to Job ; in fublimity, he yields to liaiah. 
It is a fort of temperate grandeur, for which 
David is phiefly diitinguilhed ; and to Htm he 
always foon returns, when, upon feme occafions, 
he rifes above it. The Ffalms in which he 
touches us mod, are thofe in which he defirribes 
the happinefs of the righteous, or the goodnefi 
of God ; expreffes the tender breathing of a 
devout mind, or fends up moving and affie^on* 
ate fupplications to Heaven. Ilaiali is, without 
exception, the mod fubUme of all Poets. Hus 

is 



TH& POETRY OF THE HE^&^WSU 183 

is abundantly vifible in our tranflation ; and, L E c T. 
)¥hat is a material circumHance, none of the 
Books of Scripture appear to have been more 
happily tranilated than the Writings of this 
Prophet. JMajefly is his reigning character ; a 
majedy more commanding, and more uniformly 
fupported, than is to be found among the reft 
of the Old Teilament Poets« He poflefTes, in-* 
deed, a dignity and grandeur, both in his con* 
ceptions and expreffions, which is altogether 
unparalleled, and peculiar to himfelf. There 
is more clearn^s and order too, and a more 
vifible diftribution of parts;, in his Book, than 
in any other of the Prophetical Writings. 

When we compare him with the reft of the 
Poetical Prophets, we immediately fee, in Jere- 
miah, a very different genius. Ifaiah employs 
himfelf generally on magnificent fubje6ts. Jere- 
miah leldom difcovers any difpofition to be 
fublime, and inclines always to the tender and 
lelegiac. Ezechiel, in poetiqal grace and ele- 
gance, is much inferior to them both ; but he 
is diftinguiihed by a character of uncommon 
force and ardour. To ufe the elegant expreH 
^ons of Biihop Lowth, with regard to this Pro» 
phet : ^^ Eft atrox, vehemens, tragicus ; in fen* 
^^ fibus, fervidus, acerbus, indignabundus ; in 
^^ imaginibus, fecundus, truculentus, et nonnun» 
^^ quam pene ddformis ; in di^ione grandiloquus^ 
^^ gravis, aufterus, et interdum incultus; fret* 
^^ quens in repetitionibus, noa decoris aut gra^ 
<^ tise cauia, t^ ex indigaatione et violentia. 

N 4 «« Quicc^ixld 



l84 THE POETRY OF THE HEBMEW8. 

L £ c T. ^^ Quicquid fufceperit tra6tandum id feduld per* 
^^^* ** fequitur ; in eo unice haeret defixus ; a propo« 
^* iito raro defle6lens. In coeteris, a plerifque 
*^ vatibus fortafle fuperatus ; fed in eo genere, 
^^ ad quod videtur a natura unice comparatus, 
<< nimirum,vi,pondere,impetu,granditate,nemo 
^^ unquam eum fuperavit/' The fkme learned 
Writer compares Ifaiah to Homer, Jeremiah to 
Simonides, and Ezechiel to iEfchylus. Moll of 
the Book of Ifaiah is ftri61:ly Poetical ; of Jere- 
miah and Ezechiel, not above one half can be 
held to belong to Poetryl Among the Minor 
Prophets, Hofba, Joel, Micah, Habakkuk, and 
efpecially Nahum, are diilinguifhed for poetical 
Q)irit. In the Propbeci^ of .Daniel $^q4 iJ^QDIih} 
there is no Poetry, 

It only now remains to ipeak of the Book of 
Job, with which I fhall conclude. It is known 
to be extremely antient ; generally reputed the 
moft antient of all the Poetical Books; the 
Author uncertain. It is remarkable, that this 
Book has no connection with the afiairs^ or 
manners, of the Jews, or Hebrews. The feene is 
laid in the land of Uz, or Idumea, which is a 
part of Arabia ; and the Imagery employed is 
generally of a different kind from what I before 
ihowed to be peculiar to- the Hebrew Poets. 
We meet with no alluiions to the great events 
of Sacred Hiftory, to the religious rites of the 
Jews, to Lebanon or to Carmel, or any of the 
peculiarities of the climate of Judaea. We find 
£$w comparifons founded on rivers or tervents ; 

thefe 



THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. ,85 

thefe were not familiar objects in Arabia. But l e c t« 
the longed comparifon that occurs in the Book, , ^ ^ 
is to an obje£); frequent and well known in that 
region, a brook that fails in the feafon of heat, 
and difappoints the expe6tation of the traveller. 

The Poetry, however, of the Book of Job is 
not only equal to that of any other of the Sacred 
Writings, but is fuperior to them all, except 
thofe of liaiah alone. As Ifaiah is the mod 
fublime, David the moil pleafing and tender, fo 
Job is the mod defcriptive, of all the inQiired 
Poets. A peculiar glow of fancy, and drengtH 
of defcription, chara6lerife the Author. No 
Writer whatever abounds fo much in Metaphors. 
He may be faid not to defcribie but to render 
vifible, whatever he treats of. A variety ot 
indances might be given. Let us remark only 
thofe drong and lively colours, with which, in 
the following pafiages, taken from the i8th and 
20th Chapters of his Book, he paints the con- 
dition of the wicked j obferve how rapidly his 
figures rife before us ; and what a deep impref^ 
fion, at the fame time, they leave on the ima- 
gination. ** Knowed thou not this of old, 
" finee man was placed upon the earth, that 
** the triumphing of the wicked is fliort, and 

the joy of the hypocrite but for a moment ? 

Though his excellency mount up to the 
** heavens, and his head reach the clouds, yet 
*« he fliall perifli for ever. He ihall fly away 
^^ as a dream, and fliaU not be found ; yea, he 
^^ diall be chafed away as a vifion of the night. 










J 8^ 7HB POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 

The eye alfo which faw him, flialliee him no 
more; they which have feen him Ihall iay, 
where is he ? He fliall fuck the poifon of afps; 
the viper's tongue fhall flay him. In the 
fulnefs of his fufficiency, he ibaU be in ilraits; 
^* every hand fliall come upon him. He fliall 
^' flee from the iron weapon, and the bow of 
^^ fteel fliall flrike him through. All darknefi 
^< fliall be hi4 in his fecret places. A fire not 
" blown fhsll confume him. The Heaven fliall 
^^ reveal hi^ iniquity, and the earth fliall rife up 
^^ againfl; him. The increafe of his houfe ihsJl 
*^ depart. His goods fliall flow away in the 
•* day of wrath. The light of the wicked fliall 
^^ be put out; the light fliall be dark in his 
^^ tabernacle. The fteps of his fl;rength fliall 
^^ be ilraiten^d^ and his own coupfel iball cail 
<< him down, Fpr he is cail into ^ net by his 
'' own feet. He walketh upon a fnare. Terr 
<^ rors fliall make him afraid on every fide ; and 
" the robber fliall prevail againft him. Brim- 
^^ fl;one fliall be fbattered upon his habitation* 
'^ His reim^mbrance fliall perifli from th^ earth, 
^^ and he fliall have no name in the flxeet, 
^^ He fliall be driven from light into darkneis, 
^^ They that come after him fliall be afl;oniflied 
^< at his day. He fliall 4^nk of the wratli qf 
** the Almighty.^' 






L]5CTUI$.E XI,IL 



EPIC POETRY. 

TT now remains to treat of the two higheft LtCT^ 

kinds of Poetical Writing, the Epic and the ^ ^^ ; 
Dramatic. I begin with the Epic. ThisLefture 
(hall be employed upon the general principles of 
that fpecies of Comppfition : after which, I fliall 
take a view of the character ^d genius of the 
moft celebrated Epic Poets. 

The Epic Poem is univerfally allowed to be^ 
of all poetical works, the mod dignified, and, 
at the fame time, the moil difficult in execution* 
To contrive a ftory which Ihall pleafe and in- 
tereft all Readers, by being at once entertaining, 
important, and inftrudlive ; to fill it with fuitable 
incidents ; to enliven it with a variety of cha- 
ra6bers, and of defcriptions ; and, throughout a 
long work, to maintain that propriety of fenti« 
ment, and thiat elevation of Style, which the 
Epic Chara6ter requires, is unqueilionably the 
higheft effort of Poetical Genius. Hence fo 

very 



i88 EPIC POETRY. 

L E c T. very few have fucceeded in the attempt, that 
^^"* ftri6b Critics will hardly allow any other Poems 
to bear the name of Epic^ except the Iliad and 
the jiEneid. 

There is no fubje6t, it mud be confefled, on 
which Critics have dilplayed more pedantry , than 
on this. By tedious Difquifitions, founded on a 
fervile fubmiffion to authority, they have given 
fuch an air of my fiery to a plain fubjedl, as to 
render it difficult for an ordinary Reader to con- 
ceive what an Epic Poem is. By Boffu'i^ defini* 
tion, it is a Difcourfe invented by art, purely to 
form the manners of men, by means of inftruc- 
tions difguifed under the allegory of fome im- 
portant a^ion, which is related in Verfe. This 
definition would fuit feveral of iEfop's Fables, 
if they were fomewh^t extended, and put into 
Verfe ; and, accordingly, to illyftrate his defi- 
nition, the Critic draws a parallel, in form, be* 
tw^en the confl:ru6lion of one of -Sfop's Fables, 
and the plan of Homer's Iliad. The firfl: thing, 
fays he, which either a Writer of Fables, or of 
Hieroic Poems, does, is to choofe fome maxim 
or point of morality ; to inculcate which, is to 
be the defign of his work. Next, he invents a 
general ftory^ or a ferie? of fa6b, without any 
names, fuch as he judges will bq moft proper for 
Uluflrating his intended moral. Lafl;Iy, he par- 
ficularifes bis ftqry } that is, if he be a Fabulifl;, 
he introduces his dog, his flieep, and his wolf; 
or if he be an Epic Poet, he looks out in An- 
cient Hifl;ory for fome proper names of heroes 

4 to 



EPIC POETRY. 189 

to give to bis a6iors ; and then his plan is l E c T. 
completed. , ^^ 

This is one of the mod frigid and abfurd 
ideas that ever entered into the mind of a Critic. 
Homer, he fays, faw the Grecians divided into a 
great number of independent States ; but very 
pflen obliged to unite into one body againft their 
common enemies. The mod ufeful in(lru3:ion 
which he could give them in this fituation, was, 
that a mifunderflanding between princes is the 
ruin of the common caufe. In order to enforce 
this inflru6tion, he contrived, in his own mind, 
fuch a general dory as this. Several princes 
join in a confederacy againd their enemy. The 
prince, who was chofen as the leader of the 
red, affronts one of the mod valiant of the con- 
federates, who thereupon withdraws himfelf^ 
and refufes to take part in the common enter- 
prize. Great misfortunes are the confequence 
of this divifion ; till, at length, both parties 
having fudered by the quarrel, the ofiended 
prince forgets his difpleafure, and is reconciled 
to the leader ; and union being once redored, 
there enfues complete vidlory over their ene- 
mies. Upon this general plan of his Fable, adds 
Boflu, it was of no great confequence, whether, 
in filling it up, Homer had employed the names 
of beads, like iEfop, or of men. He would 
have been equally indru6live either way. But 
as he rather fancied to write of heroes, he. 
pitched upon the wall of Troy for the fcene of 
his Fable ; he feigned fuch an adlion to happeii 

there j 



f gb EPIC POETRY. 

t E c T. there ; he gave the name of Agamemnon to the 
^^^ common leader j that of Achilles, to the of- 
fended Prince ; and fo the Iliad arofe. 

He that can believe Homer to have proceeded 
in this manner, may believe any thing. One 
iftay pronounce, with great certainty, that an 
Author who fhould compofe according to fuch 
a plan ; who fhould arrange all the fubje6l, in 
his own mind, with a view to the moral, before 
he had ever thought of the perfonages who were 
to be the A6lors, might write, perhaps, ufefol 
Fables for children ; but as to an Epic Poem^ 
if he adventured to think of one, it would be 
fuch 35 would find few Readers. No perfon of 
any tafle can entertain a doubt, that the firft 
bbje£(s which ftrike an Epic Poet are, the Hero 
tehom he is to celebrate, and the A6tion, or 
Story, ^hich is to be the ground-work of his 
Pdem. He does not fit down, like a Philoi<>- 
pher, to form the plan of a Treatife of Morality. 
His genius is fired by fome great enterprife, 
*^hich, to him, appears noble and interefting j 
and which, therefore, he pitches upon as worthy 
of being celebrated in the higheft flrain of 
Foe try. There is no fubje6l of this kind, but 
will always ajBTord fbme general moral inflrudlion^ 
arifing from it naturally. The rnflru6ti<Mi which 
Boflu points out^ is certainly fuggefted by the 
Hiad ; and there is another which arifes as »a- 
turally, and may juft as well be affigned for the 
moral of that Poem ; naniely, that Providence 
avenges thofe who have fuffered injuftice ; but 

that 



EPIC POETRY. Ipi 

that Irben f bey dlow their reientment to carry L e c T, 
tbem too far, it brings misfortunes on them* ^ ^^* 
felves. The fubgeft of the Poem is the wrath 
of AchiUes, caufed by the injuftice of Agamem- 
non. Jupiter avenges Achilles, by giving fuc- 
cefs to the Trojans againft Agamemnon ; but by 
continuing obftinate in his refentment, Achilles 
loCes his beloved friend Patroclus. 

Thi^ plain account of th^ nature of an Epic 
Poem is, the recital of fome illuftrious enter- 
prife in a Poetical Form. This is as exa6t a 
definition as there is any occafion for on this 
fubje6fc. It comprehends feveral other Poems 
befides the Iliad of Homer, the iEneid of Virgil^ 
and the Jerufalem of Taffo; which are, per- 
haps, the three moil regular and complete Epic 
Works that ever were compofed. But to ex- 
clude all Poems from the Epic Clafs, which are 
not formed exa6lly upon the fame model as 
thefe, is the pedantry of Criticifm. We can 
give exadb definitions and defcriptions of mi<^ 
nerals, plants, and animals; and can arrange 
them with precifion, imdc^r the different clafles 
to which they belong, becaufe Nature affords a 
vifible unvarying ftandard, to which we refer 
them. But with regard to works of tafte and 
imagination, where Nature has fixed no ftandard, 
but leaves fcope for beauties of many different 
kinds, it is abfurd to attempt defining, and limit- 
ing them, with the lame precifion. Criticifm, 
when employed in fiich attempts, degenerates 
into trifling quefiions about words and names 

only. 



iga EPIC POETRY- 

LB e f. only. I therefore have no fcruple to clals fucll 
^^ , Poems, as Milton's Paradife Loft, Lucan's 
Pharfalia, Statius's Thebaid, Offian's Fingal and 
Temora, Camoens' Lufiad, Voltaire's Henriade, 
Cambray's Telemachus, Glover's Leonidas, Wil- 
kie's Epigoniad, under the fame fpecies of 
Compofition with the Iliad and the jiEneid; 
though fome of them approach much nearer 
than others to the perfection of thefe celebrated 
Works- They are, undoubtedly, all Epic; 
that is, poetical recitals of great adventures ; 
which is all that is meant by this denomination 
of Poetry. 

Though I cannot, by any means, allow, that 
it is the effence of an Epic Poem to be whoUy 
an Allegory, or a Fable contrived to illuftrate 
fome moral truth, yet it is certain that no Poetry 
is of a more moral nature than this. Its effect 
in promoting virtue, is not to be meafured by 
any one maxim, or inftru6lion, which refults 
from the whole hiftory, like the moral of one of 
iEfop's Fables. This is a poor and trivial view 
of the advantage to be derived from perufing a 
long Epic Work, that, at the end, we fliall be 
able to gather from it fome common-place mo« 
rality. Its effect arifes from the impreffion 
which the parts of the Poem feparately, as 
well as the whole taken together, make upon 
the mind of the Reader : from the great ex- 
amples which it fets before us, and the high fen- 
timents with which it warms our hearts. The 
end which it propofes, is to extend our ideas of 

human 



EPIC POETRY. tg$ 

human perfefl;ion : or in other words toexcite L E CT. 
admiration. Now this can be accompliflied only 
by proper reprefentations of heroic deeds, and 
virtuous characters. For high virtue is the ob*- 
jedl, which all mankind are formed to admire ; 
and, therefore, Epic Poems are, and muft be, 
favourable to the caufe of virtue. Valour, 
Truth, Juftice, Fidelity, Friendftiip, Piety, 
Magnanimity, are the obje6ls which, in the 
courfe of fuch Compofitions, are prefented to 
our minds, under the mofl fplendid and honour- 
able colours. In behalf of virtuous perfonages^ 
our affedlions are engaged; in their defigns, 
and their diftrefles, we are interefted ; the ge- 
nerous and public afFe6bions are awakened ; the 
mind is purified from fenfual and mean purfuits, 
and accuftomed to take part in great, heroic 
enterprifes. It is, indeed, no fmall teftimony 
in honour of virtue, that feveral of the mod re- 
fined and elegant entertainments of mankind, 
fuch as that Ipecies of Poetical Compofition 
which we now confider, mufl: be grounded on 
moral fentiments and impreflions. This is a 
teftimony of fuch weight, that, were it in the 
power of fceptical Philofophers, to weaken the 
force of thofe reafonings which eftablifli the eC 
fential diftindlions between Vice and Virtue, the 
writings of Epic Poets alone were fufficient to 
refute their falfe Philofophy ; fhewing by that 
appeal which they conftantly make to the feel- 
ings of mankind in favour of virtue, that the 
foundations of it are laid deep and ftrong in 
bunoan nature. 
VOL. III. o The 



194 



EPIC POETRY. 



L c c T. The general ilrain and fpirit of Epic Compo- 
^^"' fition, fufHciently mark its diftinfilion from the 
other kinds of Poetry. In Paftoral Writing, 
the reigning idea is innocence and tranquillity. 
Compaflion is the great objeft of Tragedy; 
Ridicule, the province of Comedy. The pre- 
dominant chara6ter of the Epic is, admiration 
excited by heroic a6lions. It is fufBciently di(^ 
tinguiflied from Hiftory, both by its poeticial 
form, and the liberty of fi£lion which it aifumes. 
It is a more calm compofition than Tragedy* 
It admits, nay requires, the pathetic and the 
violent, on particular occafions^; but the pa^ 
thetic is not expe6ted to be its general chara3:en 
It requires, more than any other ipecies of 
Poetry, a grave, equal, and fupported dignity* 
It takes in a greater compafs of time and a6lion^ 
than Dramatic Writing admits; and thereby 
allows a more full difplay of characters. Dra- 
matic Writings difplay chara6lers chiefly by 
means of fentiments and paffions ; Epic Poetry, 
chiefly by means of actions. The emotions, 
therefore, which it raifes, are not fo violent, but 
they are more prolonged. Thefe are the general 
chara€fcerifl;icB of this fpecies of Compofition. 
But, in order to give a more particular and cri- 
tical view of it, let us confider the Epic Poem 
under three heads; fiHl, with refpe6t to the 
Subject, or A6lion ; fecondly, with re1^e6fc to 
the Adlors, or Characters ; and laftly, with re- 
fpeCt to the Narration of the Po^t. 

Tarn 



tl?IC POETRY- 1^5 

The a6lion, or fubjeS; of the Epic Poem, muft L E c t. 
hkve three properties : it muft be one ; it muft ^^^' 
be great j it muft be interefting. 

First, it muft be one Aftion, or Enterprife, 
^lehich the Poet choofes for his fubjefil. I have 
frequently had occafion to remark the impor- 
tance of unity, in many kinds of Compofition, 
in order to make a full and ftrong impreffloti 
upon the mind. With the higheft reafon, Arit 
totle infifts upon this, as effential to Epic Poetry; 
and it is, indeed, the moft material of all his 
rules refpedling it. For it is certain, that, in 
the recital of heroic adventures, feveral fcattered 
and independent fa6ls can never affe6l a reader 
fo deeply, nor engage his attention fo ftrongly, 
as a tale that is one and connected, where the 
feveral incidents hang upon one another, and 
are all made to confpire for the accomplifhment 
of one end. In a regular Epic, the more fen- 
fible this unity is rendered to the imagination, 
the better will be the effeft ; and for this reafon, 
as Ariftotle has obferved, it is not iufficient for 
the Poet to confine himfelf to the Aftions of 
one man, or to thofe which happened during a 
certain period of time j but the unity muft lie 
in the fubje6b itfelf, and arife from all the parts 
combining into one whole. 

In all the great Epic Poems, unity of aftioH 
is fufficiently apparent. Viigil, for inftance, his 
chofen for his il\ibje6b,the eftablilhment of iSnt^s 
in Italy. From the beginning to the end of the 

o 3 Poem^ 



196 EPIC POETRY. 

L E c T. Poem, this objefilis ever in our view, and links . 
^^^^^^ all the parts of it together with full conne6lion. 
The unity of the Odyfley is of the fame nature ; 
the return and re-eftablifhment of Ulyffes in his 
own country. The fubje6l of Taffo, is the re- 
covery of Jerufalem from the Infidels ; that of 
Milton, the expulfion of our firft parents from 
Paradife ; and both of them are unexception- 
able in the unity of the Story. The profeffed 
fubje6l of the Iliad, is the Anger of Achilles, 
with the confequences which it produced. The 
Greeks carry on many unfuccefsful engage- 
ments againft the Trojans, as long as they are 
deprived of the affiftance of Achilles. Upon 
his being appeafed and reconciled to Agamem- 
non, vi6lory follows, and the Poem clofes. It 
mud be owned, however, that the Unity, or 
connecting principle, is not quite fo fenfible to 
the imagination hSire as in the ^neid. For, 
throughout many books of the Iliad, Achilles 
is out of fight ; he is lofi; in ina6tion ; and the 
fancy terminates on no other objeft, than the 
fuccefs of the two armies whom we fee contend- 
ing in war. 

The unity of the Epic A6lion is not to be fo 
ftriftly interpreted, as if it excluded all Epifodes, 
or fubordinate actions. It is neceflary to obferve 
here, that the term Epifode is employed by Arif- 
totle in a difierent fenfe from what we now give 
to it. It was, ?L term originally applied to Dra- 
inatic Poetry, and thence transferred to Epic ; 
wd by Epifbde^s in an Epic Poem, it ihould 

feem 



EPIC POETRY. 197 

:feem that Ariftotle underftood the extenfion of L E c T. 
the general Fable, or plan of the Poem, into all 
its circumftances. What his meaning was, is, 
indeed, not very clear ; and this obfcurity has 
occafioned much altercation among Critical 
Writers. Boflu, in particular, is fo perplexed 
upon this fubjedl, as to be almoil unintelligible. 
But, difmiffing fo fruitlefs a controverfy, what' 
we now underfland by Epifodes, are certain ac»- 
tions, or incidents, introduced into the narra- 
tion, connedled with the piitttipal a6tiori, yefc- 
HOt of luch importance as to deftrt)y, if theyha<§ 
heen omittedy the main fubje6l of the P'oem.* 
Of this nature are the interview of Hedlio^ with* 
Andromache, in the Iliad ; the ftory of Cacus, 
and that of Nifus and Eury^us^ ^ in the JEneid ; 
the-' sldventures of Tancred with Erminia' and 
Clorinda, in the Jefufalem ; -and the i)roi|)66i of 
his defcendants exhibited to AdknOf, in; the laft 
books of Fiaradife Lofl. c - 






Such Epifodes as thefe, are not only pcirmit* 
ted to an Epic Poet; but, provided they be pro- 
perly executed, are great or^iaments to hiswork* 
The rules regarding theni ate tlie following : 



«'.■ 



First, They mud be naturally introduced 5^ 
they mud have a fufficient connection with the 
fubjeS. of the Poem j they hiuft feem inferior 
parts that belong to it ; not mere appendages 
ihick to it. The Epifode of Olinda and So- 
phronia, inthefecond book of Taffo's Jeruialem„ 
is faulty, by tranigreffing* this rule* It is too 

03 mwcVv 



198 EPIC POETRY. 

L £ c T« much fletached from the reft of the work ; and 
^^ , being introduced fo near the opening of the 
Poem, mifleads t^e Reader into an expectation, 
that it i3 to be of fome future confequeoce i 
whereas it proves to be conne6ted with nojthing 
that follows. In proportion a& any Epifbde is 
fligtitly related to the main fubje^, it fliould 
al'Vi^ys be th^ ihorter. The paifion of Didqao 
th^ ^neid, and tUe fnares of Armida in the 
Jer^falem, which are expanded fo fully in thefts 
Poems, cannot with propriety b^ oall<e4 ^p{i 
lbd$s. They are conftitucAt parts o ftb.^ work^ 
and form a confiderable Ihare of th,e iDtrigiie 9f 
the Poem. 

• ' • • ■ '. ■ ' . • * 

In the next place, Epifodes ought to fKteftnt 
to us, obje6ts of a different l(ind> fr^Qio thpfe 
which go before, and thofe which follaw, intbe 
<:ourfe of the Poem. For it is principally fin: 
the lake of variety, that Epifodea are introduced 
into an Epic Compofition. In to long a work, 
they t(Bnd to diverfify the fubje6t, and to relieve 
the Reader, by ihifting the fcene* In the midfi; 
of combats, therefore, an Epifode of the martial 
kind would be out of place ; whereas. Hector's 
vifit to Andrpmache in the Iliad, and Erminia's 
adventure with the Shepherd in the feventh 
book of the Jerufalem, afiford us a weU-judged 
and plealing retreat from camps and battles. 

. Lastly, As an Epifode is a profeffed embel- 
lifhment^ it ought to be particularly elegant and 
wdl-finiihed; and^ accordingly^ itis^ for tha 

moft 



EPIC POETRY. igg 

iftoft part, in pieces of this kind, that poets put L e c t. 
forth their ftrength. The Epifodes of Teribazus ^^' 
and Ariana, in Leonidas, and of the death of 
Hercules, in the Epigoniad, are the two greateft 
beauties in thefe Poems. 

The unity of the Epic A6lion neceflarily fup- 
pafes, that the a6l;iQn be entire and complete ; 
that is, as Ariftotle well expreffes it, that it 
have a beginning,, a middle, and an end. Ejther 
by relating the whole, in his own perfon, or by 
Introducing fome of his A6tors to relate what 
had pafled before the opening of the Poem, the 
Author muft always contrive to give us full in- 
formation of every thing that belongs to his fub^ 
}e& ; he muft not leave oi^r curiofity, in any 
article, ungratified ; he muft bring us precifely 
to the accompliihment of his plan ; and then 
conclude. 

The fecond property of the Epic A6lion, is, 
that it be great ; that it have fufScient fplendour 
and importance, both to fix our attention, and to 
juftify the magnificent apparatus which the Poet 
beftows upon it. This is fo evidently requifite 
as not to require illuftration ; and indeed^ 
hardly any who have attempted Epic Poetry^ 
have failed in choofing fome fubje6l fufficiently 
important, either by the nature of the a£tion, or 
by the fame of the perfonages concerned in. it. 

It contributes to the grandeur of the Epic 
S|ubje£l;, that it be not of a modem date, noi fall 
s 04 within 



aoo ' EPIC POETRY. 

L E c T. within any period of hiftory with which we are 
^^'^' intimately acquainted. Both Lucan and Vol- 
taire have, in the choice of their fabjefts, tranf-^ 
grefled this rule, and they have, upon that ac* 
count, fucceeded worfe. Antiquity is favourable 
to thofe high and augufl ideas which Epic 
Poetry is defigned to raife. It tends to aggran- 
dize, in our imagination, both perfons and 
events ; and what is flill more material, it allows 
the Poet the liberty of adorning his fuBje6k by 
means of fi6lion. Whereas* as foorias he comes 
within the verge of real and authenticiated hiA 
tory, this liberty is abmdged. He rauft either 
confine himfelf wholly, 'as. Lucari has done, to 
ftri6l hiftorical truth, at the expencfe of render- 
ing his ftoryjejunejor^ if he goes beyond it, like 
Voltaire in his Hehriad e, this ditadvantage fol- 
lows, that, in well-known events, the true and 
the fidlitious parts of the plan do not jnaturaUy 
mingle, and incorporate with each other, Thefe 
obfervations cannot be applied to Dramatic 
Writing ; where the perfonages are exhibited to 
us, nof fo much that we may admire, as that we 
may love or pity them. Such paffions are much 
more confiftent with the familiar hiftorical know- 
ledge of the perfon& who are to b^ the objedls. 
of them ; and even require them to be diQjlayed 
in the light, and with the failings of ordinary 
men. Modern, and well-known hiftory, there- 
fore, may furnilh very proper materials for 
Tragedy. But for Epic Poetry, where heroifm 
is tlie ground-work, and where the objei6tin view 
is to excite admiration, antient or traditionary 

J 6. hiftory 



EPIC POETRY. -20 r 

hiftory is affuredly the fafeft region. There, L e c T. 
the author may lay hold on names, and charac- ^ ^ ^* 
ters, and events, not wholly unknown, on which 
to buUd his Story ; while, at the fame time, by 
reafon of the diftance of the period, or of the 
remotetiefs of the fcene, fufficient licence is left 
kim for fiction and invention. 

' Th1£ third property required ih the Epife 
Poem, is, that it be interefting. It is Hot lllf- 
ficient for this purpofe that it be great.' Fdir 
deeds of mere valour, how heroic foever, may 
prove cold and tirefotne. Much will depend 
on the happy choice of^fome fubje6l, which fhall, 
by its nature, intereft the Public ; as when the 
Poets feledls for his Hero, one who i§ the foun- 
der, or the deliverer, or the favourite of his 
nation'; or when he writes of achievements that 
have been highly celebrated, or have bieferi con- 
ne6ted with important confetjuenceii to any 
public caufe. ■ Moft of the great Epic Poemis are 
abundantly fortunate in this refpeft, arid muft 
have been very interefting to thoffe ages and 

countiies in which they were compoled.- - 

' • . . • • • " ' • '•..•'■ 

* 

Bail tiie chief circumftance which renders an 
Epic Poem mterefting, and which tends to in- 
tereft, not one age or country alone, but all. 
Readers, is the ikilful conduct of the Author in 
the management of his fubje^t. He muft fb 
contrive his plan, as that^ it fhall dbmprehend 
many afFefiling incidents. .He muft not dazzle 
us perpetually with valiant atchievements ; for 

all 



ft02 EPIC POETRY. 

I, £ C T. all Readers tire of conftant fightings and biptttles ; 
^^^ but he mud ftudy to touch our hes^rts, He may 
fometimes be awlul and auguil ; he mull qflt^ 
be tender and pathetic ; he muft giye us gfytUe 
and pleaiing fcenes of love, friQnd()iip9 ^^ f^- 
fe£ti9n. The more an Epic Poem ^bouad9 with 
Situations which awaken the feelings of hun^ 
nity, the more interefting it is ; and thefe form, 
a|lways> the favourite paiTages of the work. I 
know no Epic Poets fo happy in tl^is reipe£l a9 
Virgil and Taffo. 

Much, too, depends qu the charai^ers of the 
Heroes, for rendering the Poem interefting} 
that they be fuch as Ihall llrongly attach the 
Readers, and make them take part in the dao- 
geis which the Heroes encounter. Thefe dan*- 
gers, or obftacles, form what i$ called the Nodus, 
or the Intrigue of the Epic Poem ; in thfc judi- 
cious conduct of which confiils much of the 
Poet's art. He mufl roufe our attention^ by a 
proipeS; of the difficulties which feein to threaten 
difappointment to the enterprife of his favourite 
perfonages } he mufl make thefe difficulties 
grow and thicken upon us, by degrees ; till, 
after having kept us, for iibme ttide, in aflate of 
agitation and fufpenf^,^ he pave3 the way, by a 
proper preparation of incidents, for the w^iidixig 
'up of the plot in a n^tur^land probable manner. 
It is plain, that every tale which i» defigned to 
engage fitfaintion, mud be condu^ed.on.aplan 
of this fort. 

» ■ . . .*• ' . • ' • • . ... 

• .. • ■ ■ "• _ . 

ji,. A Question 



5PIC POETRY. acti 

A Question has been moved, whether the L e c T^ 
nature of the Epic Poem does not require that it vJ^JjL 
(hpuld always end fuccelsfully ? Moft Critics are 
inclined to think, that a fuccefiful iflue is the 
moil proper ; and they appear to have reafou on 
their fide. An unhappy conclufion deprefies the- 
mind, and is oppoi&te to the elevating emotions 
which belong to this fpecies of Poetry* Terror 
and compaffion are the proper fubje6ts of Tra- 
gedy > but as the Epic Poem is of larger com* 
pafs and extent, it were too much, if*, after the 
difficulties and troubles which commonly abound 
in the progrefs of the Poem, the Author ihould 
bring them all at lad to an unfortunate iflue. Ac-t^ 
cordingly, the general practice of Epic Poets is 
on the fide of a profperous conclufion ; not, how- 
ever^ without feme exceptions. For two Au- 
thors of great name, Lucan and Milton, have 
held a contrary courfe ; the one concluding with 
the fubverfion of the Roman liberty ; the other, 
with the expulfion ol man from Paradife. 

With regard to the time or duration of the 
Epic A^ion, no precife boundaries can be afcer- 
tained. A confiderable extent is always allowed 
to it, as it does not neceflarily depend on thofe 
violent paffions which can be fiippofed to have 
only a diort continuance. The Iliad, which is 
formed upon the anger of Achilles, has, with 
propriety, the ihorteil duration of any of the 
great Epic Poems. According to Bofiu, the 
a3:ion lafts no longer than forty-feven days* 
The action of the Odyfiey^, computed from the 

15 taking 



■■1 



ao4 EPIC POETRY. 

L E c T. taking of Troy to the Peace of Ithaca, extends 
^^^* to eight years and a half; and the adtion of the 
iEneid, computed in the fame way, from the 
taking of Troy to the death of Turnus, includes 
about fix years. But if we meafure the period 
only of the Poet'sown narration, orcomputefrom 
the time in which the Hero makes his firft appear- 
ance, till the conclufion, the duration^of both 
thefe laft Poems is brought within a muclifmaller 
compafs. The Odyffey, beginning with Ulyffes 
in the Ifland of Calypfo, comprehends fifty-eight 
days only; and the jEheid, beginning with the 
ftorm, which throws jEneas upon the coaft of 
Africa, is reckoned to include, at the moft, a 
year and fome months. 

Having thus treated of the Epic A6lion, or 
the Subje6l of the Poem, I proceed next to make 
fome obferyations on the A^ors or Perfonages. 

As it is the bufinefs of an Epic Poet to copy 
after nature, and to form a probable interefting 
tale, he muft ftudy to give all his perfonages 
proper and well-fupported chara6lers, fuch as 
difplay the features of human nature. This is 
what Ariflotle calls, giving manners to the Poem. 
It is by no means neceffary, that all his a£tors 
be morally good; imperfect, nay, vicious charac- 
ters, may find a proper place ; though the nature 
of Epic Poetry feems to require, that the prin- 
cipal figures exhibited fliould be fuch as tend to 
raife admiration and love, rather than hatred or 
contempt. .But whatever the charadter be which 

a Poet 



EPIC POETRY, 205 

a Poet gives to any of his a6lors, he mud take L E c T. 
care to preferve it uniform, and confident with y^^^ 
itfelf. Every thing which that perfon fays, or 
does, muft be fuited to it, and muft ferve to dit 
tinguifli him from any other. 

Poetic chara6lers may be divided into two 
kinds, general and particular. General charac-* 
ters are, fuch as wife, brave, virtuous, without 
any farther diftin6lion. Particular chara6i:er« 
exprefs the fpecies of bravery, of wifdom, of 
virtue, for which any one is eminent. They ex- 
hibit the peculiar features which diftinguifh one 
individual from another, which mark the dif* 
ference of the fame moral quality in different 
men, according as it is combined with other diC* 
pofitions in their temper. In drawing fuch par- 
ticular characters, genius is chiefly exerted. 
How far each of the three great Epic Poets 
have diflinguifhed themfelves-in this part of 
Compofition, Ifhali have occafion afterwards to 
Ihow, when I come to make remarks upon their 
works. It is fufficient now to mention, that it 
is in this part Homer has principally excelled; 
Taffo has come the neareft to Homer; and 
Virgil has been the mofl deficient. 

It has been the pra6tice of all Epic Poets, to 
fele6l fome one perfqnage, whom they diflinguifh 
above all the refi:, and make the hero of the tale. 
This is confidered as eflential to Epic Compofi- 
tion, and is attended with feveral advantages* 
^t renders the unity of thefubje£t more fenfible,^ 

when 



2o6 EPIC POETRY- 

L £ c T. ^vhen there is one principal figure, to which, as 
^^* . to a centre, all the reft refer. It tends to inte- 
reft us more in the enterprife which is carried 
on ; and it gives the Poet an opportunity of 
exerting his talents for adorning and diiplaying 
one chara6ter, with peculiar Iplendour. It has 
been aiked, who then is the hero of Paradife 
Loft ? The Devil, it has been anfwered by fome 
Critics ; and, in confequence of this idea, much 
ridicule and cenfure has been thrown upon 
Milton. But they have miftaken that Author's 
intention, by proceeding upon a fuppofition, 
that, in the concluiion of the Poem, the kero 
mufl needs be triumphant. Whereas Milton 
followed a different plan, and has given a tragic 
conclufion to a Poem, otherwife Epic in its form. 
For Adaih is undoubtedly his hero; that is, 
the capital and moft interefting figure in his 
Poem. 

Besides human a6tors, there are perfbnages of 
another kind, that ufually occupy no fmall place 
in Epic Poetry ; I mean the gods, or fupema^ 
tural beings. This brings us to the confidersu 
tion of what is called the Machinery of the Epic 
Poem ; the moft nice and dilfecult part of the 
fubje6l;. Critics appear to me to have gone to 
extremes on both fides. Almofl all the French 
Critics decide in favour of Machinery, as eflen« 
tial to the conflitution of an Epic Poem. Tliey 
quote that fentence of Petronius Arbiter, as if 
it were an oracle, ** per ambages, Deorumque 
'* minifteria, precipitandils efl liber ^ritus,^^ 

and 



EPIC POETRY* ^07 

and hold, that though a Poem had every other l E c T. 
requifite that could be demanded, yet it could ^^ 
not be ranked in the £pie clafe, unlets the main 
a6tion was carried on by the intervention of the 
gods. This deciiion feems to be founded on no 
principle or reafon whatever, unlefs a fuperfli- 
tious reverence for the pradlice of Homer and 
Virgil. Thefe poets very prc^erly embellifhed 
their flory by the traditional tales and popular 
legends of their own country ; according to 
which, >all the great tranfa6tions of the heroic 
times were intermixed with the fables of their 
deities. But does it thence follow, that in other 
countries, and other ages, where there is not 
the like advantage of current fuperftitionj and 
popular credulity, Epic Poetry muft be wholly 
confined to antiquated fictions, and fairy tales ? 
Lucan has compofed a very Q)irited Poem, cer^ 
tainly of the Epic kind) where neither gods nor 
fupernatural beings are at all employed*. The 
Author of Leonidas has made an attempt of the 
fame kind, not without fuccefs j and beyond 
doubt, wherever a Poet gives us a regular heroic 
ftory, well €onne6ted in its parts, adorned with 
characters, and fupported with proper dignity 
and elevation ) though his agents be every one 
of them human^ he has fulfilled the chief requi* 
iites of this fort of Compofition^ and has a juft 
title to be clafiTed with S^ Writers. 

But though I cannot admit that Machinery 
IS neceflary or elTential to the Epic plan, neither 
can I agree with ibme late Crities df confider- 

able 



2o8 EPIC POETRY, 

I 

L E c T, able name, who are for excluding it totally, as 
^!^^ inconfiftent with that probability and impreffion 
of reality, which, they think, (hould reign in 
this kind of Writing*. Mankind do not con- 
fider Poetical Writings with fo philofophical an 
eye. They feek entertainment from theih ; and 
for the bulk of Readers, indeed for almoft all 
men, the marvellous has a great charm. It 
gratifies and fills the imagination ; and gives 
room for many a ftriking and fublime defcrip- 
tion. In Epic Poetry, in particular, where ad- 
miration and lofty ideas are fuppofed to reign, 
the marvellous and fupernatural find, if any 
where, their proper place. They both enable 
the Poet to aggrandize his fubje6t, by means of 
tbofe auguft and folemn obje6ls which religion 
introduces into it ; and they allow him to en- 
large and diverfify his plan, by comprehending 
within it heaven, and earth, and hell, men and 
invifible beings, and the whole circle of the 
Univerfe. 

At the fame time, in the ufe of this fuper- 
natural Machinery, it becomes a Poet to be tem- 
perate and prudent. He is not at liberty to 
invent what fyfl^em of the marvellous he pleafes. 
It muft always have fome foundation in popular 
belief. He mud avail himfelf in a decent man- 
ner, either of the religious faith, or the fuper- 
flitious credulity of the country wherein he 



* See Elem. of Criticifm, cb. 22. 

lives. 



EPIC POETRY. ^c^ 

fives, or of which he writes, fo iisto give an dk L E C *. 
of probability to events which are moft contrary ^ ^^\ 
to the common courfe of Nature. Whatever 
Machinery he employs, he muft take care not to 
overload us with it ; not to withdraw human 
a6lions and manners too much from view, nor 
to obfcure them under a cloud of incredible 
fictions. He miift always remember that his chief 
bufinels is to relate to men, the a6):ions and tlie 
exploits of men ; that it is by thefe principally 
he is to intereft us, and to touch our hearts ; 
and that if probability be altogether banifhed 
from his work, it can never make a deep or a 
lading impreffion. Indeed, I know nothing 
more difficult in Epic Poetry, than to adjuft pro- 
perly the mixture of the marvellous with the pro- 
bable ', fb as to gratify and amufe us with the 
one, without fecrificing the other. I need 
hardly obferve, that thefe obfervations affe6l not 
the condu6l of Milton's work ; whofe plan being 
altogether theological, his fupernatural being$ 
form not the machinery, but are the principal 
a6tors in the Poem. 

With regard to AUegorical Perfonages, Fame, 
Difcord, Love, and the like, it may be fafely 
pronounced, that they form the word ma^- 
chinery of any. In defcription they are fome^ 
times allowable, and may ferve for embellifh^ 
ment j biit they ftiould never be permitted to 
bear any fliare in the a6tion of the Poem. Fot 
being plain and declared fictions, mere namies of 
general ideas, to which even fancy cannot at- 
v.voL. III. F tribute 



aiO EPIC POETRY. 

• 

Ir E c T. tribute any exiftence as perfons, if they are in- 
^^ ^' , troduced as mingling with human adfcors, an 
intolerable confufion of fhadows and realities 
arifey and all confiftency of a£lion is utterly 
deflroyed. 

In the narration of the Poet^ which is the lafl 
bead that remains to be confidered, it is not 
material, whether he relate the whole ftory in 
his own chara6ler, or introduce fome of his per- 
fonages to relate any part of the a6tion that had 
paffed before the Poem opens. Homer follows 
the one method in his Iliad, and the other in 
his Odyffey. Virgil has, in this refpe6t, imi- 
tated the condudl of the Odyffey ; Taffo that of 
the Iliad. The chief advantage which arifes 
from any of the a6lors being employed to relate 
part of the ftory is, that it allows the Poet, if be 
choofes it, to open with fome interefting fitua- 
tion of affairs, informing us afterwards of what 
had paffed before that period ; and gives him 
the greater liberty of fpreading out fuch parts 
of the fubje6l as he is inclined to dwell upon in 
perfon, and of comprehending the reft within a 
fliort recital. " Where thefubjedt is of great ex- 
tent, and comprehends the tranfaftions of fe- 
veral years, as in the Odyffey and the ^neid, 
this method therefore feems preferable. When 
the fubje^t is of fmaller compafs, and ihorter 
duration, as in the Iliad and the Jerufalem, the 
Poet may, without diiadvantage^ relate the 
whole in his own perfon. 

' . . Ik 



EPIC POETRY. fill 

In the propofition of the fubje6l, the irtvoca- L E c T^ 
tion of the Mufe, and other ceremonies of the , ^^' 
Introdu6lion, Poet» may vary at their pleafure. 
It is perfectly trifling to make thefe little for*, 
malities the obje6l; of precife rulej any farther, 
than that the fubjedt of the work (hould always 
be clearly propofed, and without afte6led or 
unfuitable pomp^ For, according to Horace's 
Ddted rule, no Introdudlion ihould ever fet 
out too high, or promife too much, left the 
Author {hould not fulfil the expe&ations he 
has raifed. 

What is of moft importance iri the tenor of 
the narration is, that it be perfpicuous, ani- 
mated, and enriched with all the beauties of 
Poetry* No fort of Compofition requires more 
ftrength, dignity, and fire, than the Epic Poem* 
It is the region within which we look for every 
thing th^t is fublime in defcriptidn, tender in 
fentiment, and bold and lively in expreffion ; 
and, therefore, though an Author's plan Ihould 
be faultlefs, and his ftory ever fo well con- 
dueled, yet if he be feeble, or flat in Style, 
deftitute of affefiling fcenes, and deficient in 
poetical colouring, he can have no fuccefs. 
The ornaments which Epic Poetry admits, 
muft all be of the grave and chafte kind. No- 
thing that is loofe, ludicrous, or affedled, finds 
any place there. All the objedis which it pre- 
fents ought to be either great, or tender, or 
pleafing. Defcriptions of diigufting or (hocking 
objects ihould as much as poffible be avoided ; 
^ f 2 and 



il2 EHC POETRY. 

L E c T* and therefore the £iUe of the HaqHes, in 
the third book of the ^neid, and the allegoi]f 
of Sin and Death, in the feocmd bode of Para- 
dife Loft, had been better omitted in tfaele cele- 
brated Poems* 




t 

[ 






I •' . X 






LECTURE XLIIL 



•J 



f I 

■ * 



•^ I ■ ■ v^"' 



•*: 



HOMER'S II,IAD AMD bDYSSEY.-*. VIRGIL'S 



< ♦ 



.1 . 



A 9 tk^ J^pic Poem^ is jUjQiveiriklly allowed to le c T. 
. poiJS^^ the Ivfgheit : rank aaivuig Poetical , ^^* 
Wqrkji, ,^t jaji^rits a partiqul^ difcuffion* Hav- 
ing treated of the nature of this Compofition, 
at^d the principal rulQS relating to it, I proceed 
to make fome obfervations on the mod diflin- 
guiflied Epic Poems, Antientand Modern. 

\ I^oMi^R claims, on every account, our j&rft 
attention,^ as tlie Father not only of Epic 
Poetry, but, in fome meafure, • of Poetry in 
geneiaL Whoever fits, down to read Homer, 
moft confider that he is going to read the mod 
antient book in the world, next to the Bible. 
Without making, this reflection, he cannot en- 
ter into the fpirit, nor relilh the Compofition of 
the author. He is not to looJc for tlve corredk^ 
pefsx apd elegance, ^f the^ Auguftan Age. He 

p 3 muft 



214 THE ILIAD OF HOMER. 

ffECT* muft diveft himfelf of our modern ideto of dig- 
> ^^^^'^ nity and refinement, and tranfport his imagina- 
tion ^Imoft three tbou&nd years back in the 
hiftory of mankind. Whitt he is to expe& is a 
picture of the antient world. He muil reckon 
;upon finding chara6lers and manners that retain 
W confiderjifbljp jt^n6li^f e of itbe fayage ^te ; mo- 
^ai ideas, as yet imperfe6lly formed ; and the 
appetites and paflions of men brought under 
;ione of thofe reftraints, to which in a more ad- 
vanced ftate of Sqciety, thjey are accufix>med ; 
but bodily ftrength, prized as one of the chief 
heroic endowjpo^ptB ; tiidi preparing lofy^ iiieal, 
and the appeafing of hufn^er, defcribed as very 
interefi;ing objects ; and the heroes boafting of 
ihemfelves openly, fcoldihg one anotK^k* but- 
rageoufly, and glor}'ing, as we ihdmd ^now 
think very indecen|ly^ over their fallen' isnemies, 

; .•'■-.■■ - '• f J .1 

The opening of the Iliad poflefles none of 
that fort of dignity, which a modern looks for 
in a great Epic Poem. It turns on no higher 
fubjeft, than the quarrel of two Chieftains about 
a female flave. The Prieft of Apollo befeeches 
Agami^mnon to reftore his daughter, who, in 
the plunder of a city, had fallen to Agamem- 
non's fhare of booty. He refufes. Apollo, at 
the prayer of his Prieft, fends a plague into the 
Grecian camp. The Augur, when confulted, 
declares, that there is no way of appeafing 
Apollo, but by reftoring the daughter c^ his 
Prieft. Agamemnon is enraged at the AuguJ? i 
prdfefles that he likes this flave better than his 

ynff 



THE ILIAD OF HOMER. at 5 

wife Clytemneflxa : but fince he muft reftore i< E c T. 
her, in order to fave the army, infifls to have 
another in her place ; and pitches upon Brifeis, 
the flave of Achilles. Achilles, as was to be 
expe&ed, kindles into rage at this demand; 
reproaches him for his rapacity and infolence^ 
and, after giving him many hard names, ib- 
lemnly fwears, that, if he is to be thus treated 
by the General, he will withdraw his troops, 
and affift the Grecians no more againll the 
Trojans. He withdraws accordingly. His mo- 
ther, the Goddefs Thetis^ interefts Jupiter in 
his caufe ; who, to revenge the wrong which 
Achilles had fuffered, takes part againft the 
Greeks, and fufiers them to fsdl into great and 
long diilrefs ; until Achilles is pacified, and re- 
conciliation brought about between him and 
Agamemnon* 

Such is the bafis of the whole adliion of the 
Iliad. Hence rife all thpfb ^* fpeci<^ miracula,'^ 
as Horace terms them, which fill that extraor- 
dinary Poem ; and which have had the power of 
interelling almofl all the nations of Europe dur- 
ing every age, fince the days of Homer. The 
general admiration commanded by a poetical 
plan, fo very different from what any one would 
have formed in our times, ought not, upon re- 
flection, to be matter of furprife. For, befides i 
that a fertile genius can enrich and beautify any 
fubje6fc on which it is employed, it is to be ob-' 
ferved, that antient manners, how much foever: 
they contradid our prefent notions of dignity 

p 4 ^YvA. 




ai6 THE ILIAD OF HOlfER. 

L E c T. and refinement, afiord, neveithelefi, materials 
^^™' for Poetrj, fuperior, in fame relpe6ts, to thi^ 
which are fumifhed by a more poliihed ftate of 
Society. They dtfcover human nature more 
:apen and undiiguifed, without any of tbofe ftu- 
^Hed forms of behaviour whicfai now ceac^ak va\ea 
from one another. They give ftee icc^ to the 
iftrongeil and moil impetuous emcrtions of the 
miod, which make a better figure in defcrifb- 
tion, than calm and temperate feeKngs. They 
iheW' us our. native prejudices, appetites^ and 
defires, exerting themfelves without contrQuL 
Ibrbm this ftate of manners, joined with the ad- 
vantage of that ftrong and expreffive Style, 
iRbich, as I formerly obferved, commonly dif- 
tinguifhes the Compiifitions of early agss^ we 
hxw ground takiok for more of the beldnefi, 
eafe, and freedom of native genius, ia GoiB^po- 
fitions of fuch a period, than in thofe of more 
^vili^ed ttm^s. And, accordingfejr, the two 
greit chara^beiisof the Hoiaiieric Poetry are. Fire 
and^Simpltcity^ Lett us now proceed to make 
fi>mje; more particular obfervations on the Iliad, 
uiMfer the tluee. heads of the Subjoft and 
AiSlibn, the Gharadiers, and Narration o€ ilttC: 
Poet* 

The Subjed of the Biad muft unquafiioBaMi^ 
be admitted to be, in the main, happily dBtofleB. 
In. the days of iiomer, no obje^ .could he more 
iplendid and dignified than the Trepan war; So 
greats a confederacy of the Greoiaii; State^^ mb* 
der one leader j and the tcp yean fiege whieh 

they 



THR ILIAD QF HOMER. 217 

they carried on againft Tr6y, muft have fpiead L e c t, 
far abroad the renawiKixfnQany military exploits, ^^* 
and intereiled alL Greece in the traditions eon* 
cerning the HeBoe^ who iiad mo& eminently 
Hgnalized themfelves. r Upon thefe traditions, 
Homei; grounded his Poem; and though be 
lived, as is. generally believed, only two or 
three centuries after the^ Trojan war,- yet, 
throfigh the want lofi written- reeoirds, tradition 
muft, by his time^ bay0 fsMen into the^ degree 
of dbflcurdty/moft ptbperfor Pbetiy ; and have 
left him at full liberty to mix as m^uch fable as 
he pleafed wiAlLtbe i^emadns of true hi^QPy. He 
haanot ehofen, for liisi.fubje^l, the whole Tro« 
jan war ;.: but, with great judgment, he b^ 
iieLe^had one part Oif it, the quarrel betwixt 
AchiUes and Agamemnon, aiul the events to 
which tbaifc q<uaiprel vgave rife ; whi^ih, though 
they take up forty-feven days only, yet include 
the moil iotttei^ingand moft criticali peniod of 
tli£i waix By 'this itnanagement, he has given 
^eater unity to what would have otherwife 
been aa unconne^d hiftory of battles. He 
has gained one Hero, or principal chara^er, 
Achilles, who reigns throughout the work; 
^nd he has fhewa the perniqious^ e&sSt d di£- 
Gord among confeda*ated princes^ At the fame 
time, I admit that Homer is tefik fortunate in 
his fubjedt than VirgiL The plan of the iSneid 
includes a greater com|MU8, and a more agrees 
able divepfity of events } whereas the Iliad i» 
almoil entirely filled!^ wkh battles* 



iji8 THE ILIAD OF HOMER- 

L E c T. The praife of high invention has in every 
^^^' age been given to Homer, with the greateft 
realbn. The prodigious number of incidents, 
of fpeeches, of characters divine and human, 
with which he abounds ; the furprifing variety 
with which he has diverfified his battles, in the 
wounds and deaths, and little hiilory^pieces of 
almoft all the perfons flain, difcover an inven- 
tion next to boundlefs. But the praife of judg« 
ment is, in my opinion, no lefs due to Homer, 
than that of invention. His ftory is all along 
conducted with great art. He lifes upon us 
gradually; his Heroes are brought out, one 
after another, to be objed;s of our attention. 
I'he diftrefs thickens, as the Poem advances; 
and every thing is fo contrived as to aggran- 
dize Achilles, and to render him, as the Poet 
intended he ihould be^ the capital figure. 

But that wherein Homer excels all Writers is 
the charaCteriftical part. Here, he is without a 
rival. His lively and ipirited exhibition of cha« 
rasters is, in a great meafure, owing to his 
being fo dramatic a Writer, abounding every 
where with dialogue and converfation. There 
is much more dialogue in Homer than in Virgil ; 
or, indeed, than in any other Poet. What 
Virgil informs us of by two words of Narration, 
Homer brings about by a Speech. We may ob- 
ferve here, that this method of writing is more 
ancient than the narrative manner. Of this we 
have a clear proof in the books of the Old Teftar 
fnent, which, inftead of Narration, abound with 

Speeches^ 



THE ILIAD OF HOMEl^ 219 

Speeches, with anfwers and replies, upon the L E c T. 
moft familiar fubje^s. Thus, in the Book of ^^^^ 
Gentfis: ** Joieph faid unto his brethren, 
** whence come ye ? and they anfwered, From 
*• the land of Canaan we come to buy food* 
^^ And Jofeph faid, Ye ^are fpies ; to fee the 
** nakednefs of the land are ye come. And 
**^they faid unto him, Nay^ my Lord, but to 
** buy food are thy fervants come; we are dl 
<* one man's fons, we are true men, thy fervants 
« are no fpies. And he faid unto them. Nay, 
*^ but to fee the nakednefs of the land ye are 
^* come. And they faid, Thy fervants are 
" twelve brethren, the fons of one man in the 
^^ land of Canaan ; * and behold the youngeft is 
^< this day with our father j and one is not. 
** And Jofeph faid unto them, This it is that I 
*^ fpake unto you, faying ye are fpies. Hereby 
^* ye Ihall be proved j by the life of Pharaoh, ye 
*• fhall not go forth, except your youngefl bro- 
<* ther dome hither,*' &c. Genefis, xlii. 7 — 1 5* 
Such a Style as this, is the moil fimple and art* 
lefs form of Writing, and mud therefore, un« 
doubtedly, have been the moil antient. It is 
copying dire6tly from nature ; giving a plain 
rehearfal of what palTed, or was fuppofed to pafi, 
in converfation between the perfons of whom 
the Author treats. In progress of time, when the 
Art of Writing was more ftudied, it was thought 
more elegaht to comprefs the fubflfance of con- 
verfation into fliortdiftin^ narrative, made by 
the Poet or Hiflorian in his own perfon ; and tq 
jrelerve direS; fpeeches for folemn occafionsj oQly, 
^ ^ Thi^ 



92Q XBaL ILIAD OF HOBCEK. 



L B c T« The Antieoi Dramatic method which Homer 
^^^ , ptaAifed has fome advantages, balanced wkh 
Ibaie defers. 1% renders Compi^tion piore 
natural and animated, and mere expreffive of 
niann^^ and cfaa»3:er5 ; but withal le& grave 
and majeftic, and fometimes tirefome. Homer, 
it muft be admitted, has carried his fNFopenfit]^ 
to the making of Speeches too £ur ) and if he be 
tedious any where, itisintheie; Ibme qfthem 
triffing, and ibme of them phun^ uniea&nable. 
Together with the Greek vivaoity, he le^es 
upon our minds fixne impreffion • of the Greek 
kxpiacity alio. His Speeches, however, are 
upon the whole chanifteriftk and lively } and to 
them we owe, in agreat meaiiire, that admira. 
Ue diiplay which he has given of human nature. 
Every one who reads him, becomes £uniliarly 
and mtimately acquainted with his Heroea. We 
fi^em^ to have lived amcmg them, and ta have 
eoov^ed with them. Not only hat he poriiKed 
the fingle virtue of courage, throu^ ail ita dif* 
ierent forms and features,, in his different war- 
fiors } but ibme more delicate chara&ers» iirto 
which coon^e either enters not at sdl, or but 
for sp inconfiderable part^ he has drawn with 
fiagular £ui:« 

How finely, for inftance, has he painted the 
th^ra^r of Helen, fb as, notwiddlaDding her 
fmilty aod her crimes, to prevent her from 
b^eing an odious obje3: ! The admkatiim with 
which the old\generals beboid her, in the Third 
'BiH>kf when ibeis> coming tnwadii them,, pre^ 
i: I fents 



THE ILIAD OF HOMSk. giM 

fents her to us with much dignity. Her refling L E c T% 
herfelf, and fliedding tears, her confufioti in the ^^^"^ 
presence of Priam, her grief and felf-accufations 
at the fight of Menelaus, her upbraiding Pans 
for his cowardice, and, at the lame time, her 
returning fondnefs for him, exhibit the moll 
ftriking features of that mixed female charadler, 
which we partly condemn, and partly pity. 
Homer never introduces her, without making 
her fay Ibmething to move our compallion; 
while, at the fame time, he takes care to coiu 
trail her character with that of a virtuous ma- 
tron, in the chafte and tender Andromache. 

Paris himfelf, the author of all the mifchief^ 
is chara6i;erired with the utmofl propriety. He 
is, as we Ihould expe^ him, a mixture of gaU 
♦ lantry and effeminacy. He retreats from Me* 
nelaus, on his firll appearance ; but, immd^ 
diately afterwards, enters into fingle combat 
with him. He is a great mailer of civility, re^ 
markably xourteous in his fpeeches; and re- 
ceives all the reproofs of his brother He6tor 
with modefty and deference. He is defcribed 
as a perlbn of elegance and talle. He wa^ thc^ 
Archite^ of his own Palace. He is, in the 
Sixth Book, found by He&^ot^ burnilhing and 
drefling up his armour; and iflues forth to batx 
tie with a peculiar gaiety and oftentatioft <tf 
appearance, which is illuftrated by one of th0 
finell comparifons in all the Iliad, that of the 
hgrSsf prancing t6 the river. < i / I 

HqiMusR 



■i 



222 THE ILIAD OF HOMEk. 

L £ C T. HoMEit has been blamed for making his herd 
^^^* . Achilles of too brutal and inamiable a charac* 
ten But I am incline^ to think, that injuftice 
is commonly done to Achilles, upon the credit 
of two lines of Horace, who has certainly ove^ 
loaded his chara6ler : 

tmpiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer. 

Jura ncgat fibi nata ; nihil non arrogat atmis« 

Achilles is paflionate, indeed, to a great de« 
gree ; but he is far from being a contemner of 
laws and juilice. In the conteft with Agamem^ 
non, though he carries it on with too much 
heat, yet he has reafon on his fide. He was 
tiotorioufly wronged ; but he fubmits j^ and re- 
figns Brifeis peaceably, when the heralds come 
to demand her ; only, he will fight no longer 
under the command of a leader who had af-^ 
fronted him. Befides his wonderful bravery 
and contempt of death, he has feveral other 
qualities of a Hero. He is open and fincere. 
He loves his fubje61:s, and reljpe6ls the Gods. 
He is difl:inguiflied by fl;rong friendlhips and 
attachments; he is, throughout, high-fpirited, 
gallant, and honourable; and allowing for a 
degree of ferocity which belonged to the titnes, 
and enters into the chara<Slers of moft 6f Ho- 
mer's Heroes, he is, upon the whole^ abun- 
dantly fitted to raife high admiration, though 
not pure efi^eem. 

Under the head of Charafters, Homer's 

Gods, or his Machinery, according to the cri- 

,, 11 tical 



1«E ILIAD OF HOMER. 123 

tical term, come under confideration. The L E c T. 
Gods make a great figure in the Iliad ; much , ^^ ' 
greater indeed then they do in the iEneid, or 
in any other Epic Poem j and hence Homer 
has become the ftandard of Poetic Theology. 
Concerning Machinery in general, I delivered 
my fentiments in the former Lefilure. Con- 
cerning Homer's Machinery, in particular, we 
mull obferve, that it was not his own invention. 
Like every other good Poet, he unqueftionably 
followed the traditions of his country. The 
age of the Trojan war approached to the age of 
the Gods, and Demi-gods, in Greece. Several 
of the Heroes concerned in that war were re- 
puted to be the children of thefe Gods. Of 
courfe, the traditionary tales relating to them, 
and to the exploits of that age, were blended 
with the Fables of the Deities. Thefe popular 
legends. Homer very properly adopted ; though 
it is perfectly abfurd to infer from this, that 
therefore Poets arifing in fucceeding ages, and 
writing on quite different fubje6ls, are obliged 
to follow the fame fyftem of Machinery. 

In the hands of Homer, it produces, on the 
whole, a noble efte6l ; it is always gay and 
^muihig ; often, lofty and magnificent. It in.* 
troduces into his Poem a great number of per- 
fonagesj almoll as much diilinguilhed by cha- 
ra6ters as his human a£tors. It diverfifies his 
battles greatly by the intervention of the Gods ; 
and by frequently flufting the fcene from eartU 
to heaven^ it gives an agreeable relief to the 

mind. 



2^4 THE ILIAD OF HOMER. 

L £ c T« mind, in the midft of fo much blood and flaugh- 
^^ , ter% Homer's Gods, it mull be confeffed, tfaougfa 
they be always lively and animated figures, yet 
fometimes want dignity. The conjugal conten- 
tions between Juno and Jupiter, with which he 
entertains us, and the indecent fquabbles he 
defcribes among the inferior Deities, according 
asthty take different fides with the contending 
parties^ would be very improper models for any 
modem Poet to imitate. In apology for Homer, 
however, it mufl; be remembered, that according 
to the Fables of thofe days, the Gods are but 
one remove above the condition of men. They 
have all the human paflions. They drink and 
feaft, and are vulnerable like men ; they have 
children and kinfmen, in the oppofit^ armies; 
and except that they are immortal, that they 
have houfes on the top of Olympus, and winged 
chariots, in which they are often flying dowii 
to earth, and then re-afcending, in order to 
feall on nedlar and ambrofia ; they are in truth 
no higher beings than the human Heroes, and 
therefore very fit to take part in their coi[)ten<> 
tions. At the fame time, though Homer fo 
frequently degrades his divinities, yet he knows 
how to make them appear, in fome conjun^ures^ 
with the moft awful majefty. Jupiter, the Farfsfaer 
of Gods and Men, is^ for the mod part, iiitro«> 
duced with great dignity; and feveral «f th* 
moft fublime conceptions in the Iliad arc 
founded oA the appearances of Neptune^ Mi^- 
nerva, and Apollo, on great occafionsk 

: •' ' • ■■ ■■ ••••.;' 

15 With 



THE ILIAD OF HOMER. 225 

With regard to Homer's Style and manner of L e c T. 
Writing, it is eafy, natural, and in the higheft ^^^* 
degree animated. It will be admired by fuch 
only as relifli antient fimplicity, and can make 
allowance for certain negligences and repeti- 
tions, which greater refinement in the Art of 
Writing has taught fucceeding, though far in- 
ferior. Poets to avoid. For Homer is the moll 
fimple in his Style of all the great Poets, and 
refembles moft the Style of the poetical parts 
of the Old Teftament. They can have no con- 
ception of his manner, who are acquainted with 
him in Mr. Pope's Tranflation only. An ex- 
cellent poetical performance that Tranflation 
is, and faithful in the main to the Original. In 
fome places, it may be thought to ,have even 
improved Homer. It has certainly foftened 
fome of his rudenefles, and added delicacy and 
grace to fome of his fentiments. But wi^thal, 
it is no other than Homer modernifed. In the 
midft of the elegance and luxuriancy of My. 
Pope's language, we lofe fight of the old Bard's 
fimplicity. I know indeed no Author, to whom 
it is more difiicult to do jufl:ice in a Tranflation, 
than Homer. As the plainnefs of his diftion, 
were it iiterally rendered, would often appear 
flat in any modern language ; fo, in the midfl: 
of that plsunnefs, and not a little heightened by 
it, there are every where breaking forth upon 
us flaflies of native fire, of fublimity and beauty, 
which hardly any language, except his own, 
could preferve. His Verfification has been 
univerfally; acknowledged to be uncommonly 
'•' VOL. III. Q melodious. 



126 THE ILIAD OF HOMER. 

L B c T, melodious^ and to carry, beyond that of any 
^^^ , Poet, a refemblance in the found to the fenfe 
and meaning. 

Ik Narration, Homer is, at all times, remark- 
ably concife^ which renders him lively and 
agreeable; though in his fpeeches, as I have 
before admitted, fometimes tedious. He is 
every where defcriptive ; and defcriptive by 
means of thofe welUchofen particulars, xwhidi 
form the excellency of defcription. Virgil gives 
us the nod of Jupiter with great magnificence; 

Annuit \ et totum outu tremefecit Olympum. 

But Homer, in defcribing the fame thing, 
gives us the fable eye-brows of Jupiter bent, 
and his ambrofial curls ihaken, at the moment 
when he gives the nod; and thereby renders 
the figure more natural and lively. Whenever 
^e feeks to draw our attention to fome intereft- 
ing obje6):, he particularifes it fo happily, as to 
paint it in a manner to our fight. The fhot of 
Pandarus' arrow, which broke the truce between 
the two armies, as related in the Fourth Book, 
may be given for an inilance; and above all 
the admirable interview of He6lor with Andrew 
mache, in the Sixth Book ; where all the. cir- 
cumflances of conjugal and parental tendem^ 
the child affiight^ with the view of his Father's 
Helmet and Crefi;, and clinging to the Aurfe ; 
He6tor putting off his Helmet, taking the child 
into his arms, and offering up a prayer for Yam 

iQ to 



THE ILIAD OP HOMEil* 227 

to the Gods j Andromache receiving back th« i. E c Tr 
child with a fmile of pleafure, and, at the fame ^^ 
inftant, burfting into tears, ioix(vei¥ y<xa(ra<r«, as it 
is finely exprefled in the original, form the moil 
natural and afie6ting pi6ture that can poflibly 
be imagined. 

Ik the defcription of Battles, Homer particu- 
larly excels. He works up the hurry, the terror, 
and confufion of them in fo mafterly a manner, 
as to place the Reader in the very midfl of the 
engagement. It is here, that the fire of his 
genius is mofi; highly diijplayed ; infomuch, Ihat 
Virgil's Battles, and indeed thofe of moll other 
Poets, are cold and inanimated in comparifon 
of Homer's. 

With regard to Similies, no Poet abounds fo 
much with them. Several of them are beyond 
doubt extremely beautiful : fuch as thofe of the 
fires in the Trojan camp compared to the Moon 
and Stars by night ; Paris going forth to Battle, 
to the war-horfe prancing to the river; and 
Euphorbus flain, to the flowering fhrub cut 
down by a fudden blaft : all which are among * 
the finefi; poetical pafiages that are any where 
to be found. I am not, however, of opinion 
that Homer's Comparifons, taken in general, 
are his greatefl beauties. They come too thick 
iipon us ; and often interrupt the train of his 
narration or defcription. The refemblance ow 
which they are founded, isfometimes not clear j 
and the obje^s whenfce they ace taken, are too 

a 2 unifotm. 



2xS THE ODTSSET OF HOMEtL 

L £ c T. oiufofiEU His Lions, Bolls, Eagles, and Iieidi 

^^^ ^ erf* «Sbe€p, recur too frequently; and the aUHfions 

in ibme of his Similifs, even afio' the aDov- 

anceft that are to be made for antient nuumen^ 

muft be admitted to be debafing *> 

Mr obiervatioDS, hitherto, have been made 
upon the Iliad onlj. It is necefiary to take 
fome notice of the Odyfley alio. Lcmginns's 
criticifin upon it is not without foundation, that 



* The ferrreft attic opoe Homer in modeni timesy ILh 
Mate, admiu all that his admirers urge for tbe fnpoiodty of 
hi* genius and taleats as a Poet : ** C'etoit on genie natnrcAe- 
** mail Poctique, ami dzs Fables & des merrrillenx, ct pofte 
^ en general a I'imitationy foit des objets de la nature^ €oit 
** des fentimens et des anions des hommes. II atvoit Fc^piit 
^ Tafle et fecond : pins elere que delicat, plus natnrd qn'i^e- 
^ nieuX) et plus amooreux de I'abondancc que du cJioix.-^B a 
^ iaifi, par une fuperiorite de gout, ks premieres idoes de 
** Pcloquence dans toutes ks genres ; il a parle la langage des 
^ toutes les paffions ; et il a du moins ouvert anx ^criYiins qm 
** doivente le frnvre une infiidte de routes, qu'il ne reftoit phis 
<f qu'k applanir. II y a apparence que en qudques ten^ qa* 
<< Homire eut ve^u, il edt ete, du mcnns, k plus grand Poele 
*^ de {on pais : et a ne k prendre que dans ce fens, on peat 
** dire, qu'il eft le maitre de ceux mSmes qui Pont furpa^"— 
Difcours fur Hom^re. Oeuvres de la Motte, Tome 2de. After 
thefe high praifes of the Author, he indeed endeayours to bring 
the merit of the Iliad very low. But his principal objedioos 
turn on the debafing ideas which are there griven of the Godly 
the grofs charadiers and manners of the Heroes, and the im- 
pcrfe6t morality of the fentiments ; which, as Voltaire obfervesi 
is like accufing a painter for having drawn his figures in the 
drefs of the times. Homer painted his Gods, fuch as popular 
tradition then reprefented them ; and defcribed fuch chara^er^ 
and fentiments, as he found among thofe with vdbom. he lived. 

Homer 



THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER. 229 

Homer* may in this Poem be compared to theX e ct. 
fetting fu»5 whofe grandeur ftill remains without ^^^^*^ 
the heat of his meridian beams. It wants the 
vigour attd fublimity of the Iliad ; yet, at the 
fame time, poflefles fo many beauties, as to be 
juftly entitled to high praife. It is a very 
amufing Poem, and has much greater variety 
than the Iliad ; it contains many interefting 
<fiories, ahd beautiful defcriptions. We fee 
every where the fame defcriptive and dramatic 
-genius, and the fame fertility of invention that 
appears in the other work. It defcends indeed 
from the dignity of Gods, and Heroes, and 
warlike atchievements ; but in recompence, we 
have more pleafing pidlures of antient manners. 
Initead of that ferocity which reigns in the Iliad, 
the Odyffey prefents us with the moft amiable 
images of hoipitality and humanity ; entertains 
us with many a wonderful adventure, and many 
a landfcape of nature; and in(lru6ls us by a 
conftant vein of morality and virtue, which run$ 
through the Poem. 

At the fame time, there are fome defefils 
which mufl be acknowledged in the OdyiTey* 
Many fcenes in it fall below the majefty which 
we naturally expeft in an Epic Poem. The 
laft Twelve Books, after Ulyfles is landed in 
Ithaca, are, in feveral parts, tedious and Ian* 
guid } . and though the difcovery, which UlyflTes 
makes of himfelf to his Nurfe Euryclea, and 
his interview with Penelope before ftie knows 
him, in thQ Nineteenth Book, are tender and 

« 5 affedting^ 



^30 THE iBNElD OF VIRGIL« 

]L E c T. B&€ting^ yet the Poet does not ieem happy 
in the great anagnorifis, or the difcovery of 
Ulyfles to Penelope. She is too cautious and 
diftruftful, and we are difappointed of the fuN 
prife of joy, which* we expected on that h^h 
occafion. 

Afteb having iaid fo much of the Father of 
Epic Poetry, it is now time to proceed to Virgil, 
who has a character clearly marked^ and quite 
diftinSt from that of Homer. As the diftin^ 
guilhing excellencies of the Iliad are. Simplicity 
and Fire; thofe of the iBneid are. Elegance and 
Tendernefs, Virgil is, beyond doubt, left ani- 
mated and lefs fublime than Homer; but to 
counterbalance this, he has fewer negligences, 
greater variety, and fupports more of a correft 
and regular dignity throughout his work. 

When we begin to read the Iliad, we find 
ourfelves in the region of the moil remote, and 
even unrefined antiquity. When we open the 
^neid, we difcover all the corre6tneIs, and the 
improvements, of the Auguflan age. We meet 
with no contentions of heroes about a female 
flave ; no violent fcolding, nor abufive language^ 
but the Poem opens with the utmoil magnifi- 
cence J with Juno, forming defigns for prevent- 
ing ^neas's eftablilhment in Italy, and ^neas 
himfelf prefented to us with all his fleet in the 
middle of a llorm, which is defcribed in the 
highefl ftyle of Poetry. 

Tbm 



THE JENEID OF VIRGIL. 23! 

The fubjefi of the j^neid is extremely happy; L S C f . 
ftill more fo, in my opinion, than either of ^^^^^* 
Homer's Poems. As nothing could be more 
noble, nor carry more of Epic dignity, fo nor- 
thing could be more flattering and interefting 
to the Roman people, than Virgil's deriving 
the origin of their flate from fo famous a hero 
M ifineas. The obje6fc was fplendid in itfelf $ 
it gave the Poet a theme, taken from the am 
tient traditionary hiftory of bis own country ; 
it allowed him td connect his fubje^t with 
Homer's ftories, and to adopt all his mythology; 
it afibrded him the opportunity of frequently 
glancing at all the future great exploits of the 
Romans, and of defcribing Italy, and the very 
territory of Rome, in its antient and fabulous 
flate. The eflabliihment of ^neas conftantly 
traverfed by Juno, leads to a great diverfity of 
events, of voyages, and wars ; and fumifhes a 
proper intermixture of the incidents of peace 
with martial exploits. Upon the whole, I be* 
lieve, there is no where to be found fo complete 
a model of an Epic Fable, or Story, as Virgil's 
^neid. I fee no foundation for the opinion, 
entertained by fbme Critics, that the iEneid is 
to be confidered as an Allegorical Poem, which 
carries a conftant reference to the chara6ler and 
reign of Auguflus Csfar ; or, that Virgil's main 
defign in compofing the ^neid, was to recon- 
cile the Romans to the government of that 
Prince, who is iiippofed to be fh ado wed out 
under the chara6ter of jiEneas. Virgil, indeed, 
like the other Poets of that age, takes every 

Q 4 opportunity 



^32 THE JENEID OF VIRGIL; 

L E c T. opportunity which his fubje6t aflfords him, of 
^^' , paying court to Auguftus *. But, to imagine 
that he carried a political plan in his view, 
through the whole Poem, appears ta me no 
more than a fanciful refinement. He had fuf- 
ficient motives, as a Poet, to determine him to 
the choice of his fubje6l;, from its being, in itfelf, 
both great and pleafing ; from its being fuited 
to his genius, and its being attended with the 
peculiar advantages, which I mentioned above, 
for the full difplay of poetical talents. 

Unity of a6);ion is perfefilly preferved ; as, 
from beginning to end, one main objea is 
always kept in view, the. fettlement of ^neas 
in Italy, by the order of the Gods. As the 
ilory comprehends the tranfa6tions of feveral 
years, part of the tranfa6tions are very properly 
thrown into a recital made by the Hero. The 
Epifodes are linked with fufficient conne6fcion 
to the main fubjedlj and the Nodus, or Intrigue 
of the Poem, is, according to the plan of antient 
machinery, happily formed. The wrath of Juno, 
who oppofes herfelf to the Trojan fettlement in 
Italy, gives rife to all the diflficulties which ob- 
ftru£l; ^neas's undertaking, and conne6ts the 
human with the celeflial operations, throughout 
the whole work. Hence arife the temped which 
throws J^neas upon the fhore of Africa; the 



* As particularly in that noted paflage of the 6th book. 
Hie vifi hie eft| tibi quern promitti faepius audis, &c. 

paifion 



THE JENEID OF VIRGIL. 233 

paffion of iDido, who endeavours to detain him l E c t. 
at Carthage ; and the efforts of Tumus, who ^ ^ro. 
oppofes him in war. Till, at laft, upon a compofi* 
tion made with Jupiter, that the Trojan name 
ihall be for ever funk in the Latin, Juno fore- 
goes her refentment, and the Hero becomes 
viftorious. 

In thefe main points, Virgil has condu6ted his 
work with great propriety, and fliewn his art 
and judgment. But the admiration due to fo 
eminent a Poet, mvfi. not prevent us from re- 
marking fome other particulars in which he 
has failed. Firft, there are fcarce any chara6l:ers 
marked in the ^neid. In this reQ)e6b it is 
infipid, when compared to the Iliad, which is 
full of chara6ters ai^ life. Achates, and Cloan^- 
thus, and Gyas, and the reft of the Trojan 
heroes who accompanied ^neas into Italy, are 
fo many undiftinguifhed figures, who are in no 
way made known to us, either by any fenti- 
ments which they utter, or any memorable 
exploits which they perform. Even iEneas 
himfelf is not a very interefting Hero. He is 
defcribed, indeed, as pious and brave ; but his 
character, is not marked with any of thofe 
ftrokes that touch the heart ; it is a fort of cold 
and tame chara6ter ; and, throughout his beha- 
viour to Dido, in the fourth book, efpecially in 
the fpeech which he makes after flie fulpe6ted 
his intention of. leaving her, there appears a 
certain hardnefe, and want of relenting, which 

is 



^34 7H£ JBNEID OF VIRGIL. 

L B c T. 18 far from renderifig him amiaUe *• Dido's 
^^ , own chara^r is by much the beft fiipported, 
in the whole iBneid. The warmth of her pa£ 
ficms, the keenne& of her indignation and re- 
ientment, and the violence of her whole charac- 
ter, exhibit a figure greatly more animated than 
any other which Virgil has drawn. 

Besides this defeS; of chara3;er in the JExMd, 
the diftribution and management of the fubjeft 
are, in fome reipe6ls, exceptionable. The 
^neid, it is true, mufl be confidered with the 
indulgence due to a work not thoroughly cont 
pleted. The fix lafi; books are laid not to have 
received the finifliing hand of the Authw ; and 
for this reafon, he ordered, by his will, the 
iBneid to be committed to the flames. But 
though this may account for incorredfcneis of 
execution, it does not apologize-for a falling off 
in the fubje6):, which feems to take place in the 
latter part of the work. The wars with the 
Latins are inferior, in point of dignity, to the 
more interelling objects which had before been 
prefented to us, in the defl:ru£tion of Troy, the 
intrigue with Dido, and the defcent into HeU. 
And in thofe Italian wars, there is, perhaps, a 
more material fault ftiU, in the conduct of the 
ftory. The Reader, as Voltaire has obferved, 
is tempted to take part with Turnus againft 



^ Num fletu ingemuit noftro ? Num lumina flezit ? 
Num lachrymas viftus dedit i Aut miferatus amantem eft? 

JEn. IV* 368* 

idBneas. 




THE iSNElD OF VI&GIL. ^35 

JEneas. Turnus, a brave young prince, in love L E c T. 
.with Lavinia, his near relation, is deilined for , ^^^ 
her by general confent, and highly fitvoured by 
her mother, Lavinia herfelf difcovers no re* 
lu6tanqe to the match: when there arrives a 
Hxanger, a fugitive from a diftant region, who 
had never feen her, and who founding a claim 
to an eilablifhment in Italy upon oracles and 
prophecies, embroils the country in war, kills 
the lover of Livinia, and proves the occafion of 
her mother's death. Such a plan is not fortu- 
nately jiaid, for difpofing us to be favourable to 
the Hero of the Poem ; and the defed): might 
have been eafily remedied, by the Poet's making 
^neas, inftead of diilreffing Lavinia, deliver her 
from the perfecution of fome rival who was 
odious to her, and to the whole country. 

But, notwithftanding thefe defeats, which it 
was neceflary to remark, Virgil pofieiTes beauties 
which have juilly drawn the admiration of ages, 
and which, to this day, hold the balance in 
equilibrium between his fame and that of Homer. 
The principal and diflinguifhing excellency of 
Virgil, and which, in my opinion, he poflefles 
beyond all Poets, is Tendernefs. Nature had 
endowed him with exquifite fenfibility ; he felt 
every affecting circumftance in the fcenes he 
defcribes; and, by a fingle ftroke, he knows 
how to reach the heart. This, in an Epic Poem, 
is the merit next to fublimity ; and puts it in an 
Author's power to render his Comp^fition ex- 
tremely interefUng to all Readers. 

TH£ 



a^S 



THE iENEID OF VlR(5lt. 



L E c T. Thje chief beauty, of this kind, in the Iliad, 
^^"°* is, the interview of He6tor with Andromache. 
But, in the iEneid, there are many fuch. '■ The 
iecond book is one of the greateft mafter-pieces 
that ever was executed by any hand; and Virgil 
feems to have put forth there the whole ftrength 
of his genius, as the fubjedb afforded a variety oi 
fcenes, both of the awful and tender kind. The 
images of horror, prefented by a city burned 
and facked in the night, are finely mixed with 
pathetic and afie6ting incidents. Nothing, in 
any Poet, is more beautifully defcribed than the 
death of old Priam ; and the family-pieces of 
JEneas, Anchifes, and Creufa, are as tender as 
can be conceived. In many paflages of the 
^neid, the fame pathetic ipirit ihines ; and 
they have been always the favourite paflages 
in that work. The fourth book, for inilance, 
relating the unhappy paflion and death of Dido 
has been always mod juftly admired, and abounds 
with beauties of the higheft kind. The interview 
of JEneas with Andromache and Helenus, in the 
third book ; the Epifodes of Pallas and Evander, 
of Nifus and Euryalus, of Laufus and Mezentius, 
in the Italian wars, are all ftriking inilances of 
the Poet's power of railing the tender emotions. 
For we muft obferve, that though the ^neid be 
an unequal Poem, and, in fome places, languid, 
yet there are beauties fcattered through it all j 
and not a few, even in the lad fix books. The 
beil and moft finiflied books, upon the whole, 
are, the firft, the fecond, the fourth, the fixth, 
the feventh, the eighth, and the twelfth* 

3 Virgil's 



THE iENEID OF VIRGIL. 237 

Virgil's battles are far inferior to Homer^s L E c T. 
in point of fire and fublimity : but there is one ^^^°* 
important Epifode, the Defcent into Hell, in 
which he has outdone Homer in the Odyffey, 
by many degrees. There.is nothing in all anti- 
quity equal, in its kind, to the fixth book of the 
iEneid. The fcenery and the obje6ls are great 
and (Iriking, and fill the mind with that folema 
awe, which was to be expe6ted from a view of 
the invifible world. There runs through the 
whole defcription, a certain philpfophical fub- 
lime ; which Virgil's Platonic Genius, and the 
enlarged ideas of the Auguftan age, enabled 
him to fupport with a degree of majefl;y, far 
beyond what the rude ideas of Homer's age 
fuffered him to attain. With regard to the fweet- 
nefs and beauty of Virgil's numbers, throughout 
his whole works, they are fo well known, that it 
were needlefs to enlarge in the praife of them. 

Upon the whole, as to the comparative merit 
of thefe two great princes of Epic Poetry, Ho- 
mer and Virgil ; the former muft, undoubtedly, 
be admitted to be tlie greater Genius ; the latter, 
to be the more 6orre6t Writer, Homer was an 
original in his art, and difcovers both the beau-, 
ties and the defe6ts which are to be expe6led in 
an original Author, compared with thofe who 
fucceed him ; more boldnefs, more nature and 
eafe^ more fublimity and force; but greater 
irregularities and negligences in Compofition, 
Virgil has, all along, kept his eye upon Homer ; 
iu many places, he has not fo much imitated, as 

he 



^3$ THE -fiNEID OF VIRGIL. 

L E c T; he has literally tranflated him- The defcription 
^^^- of the Storm, for inftance, in the firft iEneid, 
and ^neas's fpeech upon that occafion^ are 
tranflations from the fifth book of the Odyfley ; 
not to mention almoft all the fimilies of Virgil, 
which are no other than copies of thofe of Homer. 
The pre-eminence in invention, therefore, muft, 
beyond doubt, be afcribed to Homer. As to 
the pre-eminence in judgment, though many 
Critics are dilpofed to give it to Virgil, yet, in 
my opinion, it hangs doubtful. In Homer, we 
difcef n all the Greek vivacity ; in Virgil, all the 
Roman llatelinefs. Homer^s imagination is by 
much the moil rich and copious ; VirgiPs, the 
mod challe and correfl:. The ftrength of the 
former lies in his power of warming the fancy ; 
that of the latter, in his power of touching the 
heart. Homer's ftyle is more fimple and ani- 
mated J Virgil's more elegant and uniform. The 
firft has, on many occafions, a fublimity to which 
the latter never attains ; but the latter, in return, 
never finks below a certain degree of Epic dig- 
nity, which cannot fo clearly be pronounced of 
the former. Not, however, to detrafit from the 
admiration due to both thefe great Poets, moft 
of Homer's defeats may reafonably be imputed, 
not to his genius, but to the manners of the age 
in which he lived ; and for the feeble paflages 
of the i£neid, this excufe ought to be admitted, 
that the ^neid was left an unfinifhed work* 



LECTURE XLIV. 



LUCAN'8 PHARSALIA— TASSO'8 JERUSALEM 
— CAMOENS'LUSIAD — FENELON^s TELE- 
MACHUS— VOLTAIRE'8 HENRIADE 
—MILTON'S PARADISE LOST. 

A FTER Homer and Virgil, the next great Epic L 1 C T. 
Poet of antient times, who prefents himfelf, , XL IV. ^ 
is Lucan. He is a Poet who deferves our atten- 
tion, on account of a very peculiar mixture of 
great beauties with great faults. Though his 
Pharfalia difcover too little invention, and be 
condu6led in too hiftorical a manner, to be ac* 
counted a perfe6lly regular Epic Poem, yet it 
were the mere fqueamifhnefs of Criticifm, to ex« 
elude it from the Epic clafi. The boundaries, 
as I formerly remarked, are far from being a& 
certained by any fuch precife limit, that we muft 
refufe the Epic name to a Poem, which treats 
of great and heroic adventures, becaufe it is not 
exa6Uy conformable to the plans of Homer and 
Virgil. The fubjedt of the Pharfalia carries^ 
undoubtedly, all the Epic Grandeur and Dig- 
nity j 



240 THE PHARSALIA OF LUCAN. 

L E c T. nity ; neither does it want unity of obje6!:, vi2# 
^^^" the Triumph of Caefar over the Roman Liberty. 
As it (lands at prefent, it is, indeed, brought 
to no proper clofe. But either time has de- 
prived us of the laft books, or it has been left 
by the Author an incomplete work. 

Though Lucan's fubje6l be abundantly he- 
roic, yet I cannot reckon him happy in- the 
choice of it. It has two defe6ls. Tlie one is, 
that civil wars, efpecially when as fierce and 
cruel as thofe of the Romans, prefent too many 
fhocking objedls to be fit for Epic Poetry, and 
give odious and difguftiing views of human na- 
ture. Gallant and honourable atchieyements 
fumifli a more proper theme for the Epic Mufe. 
But Lucan's Genius, it mufl: be confeffed, feems 
to delight in lavage fcenes ; he dwells upon them 
too much ; and, not content with thofe which 
his fubje6l naturally furniflied, he goes out of 
his way to introduce a long Epifode of Marius 
and Sylla's profcriptions, which abounds with 
all the forms of atrocious cruelty. 

The other defe6l of Lucan's fubje6l is, its 
being too near the times in which he lived. This 
is a circumftance, as I obferved in a former 
Le6lure, always unfortunate for a Poet ; as it 
deprives him of the afliftance of fi6lion and 
machinery ; and thereby renders his work lefs 
Q>lendid and amufing. Lucan has fubmitted to 
this difadvantage of his fubje^l ; and in doing 
fo, has a£ted with more propriety, than if he 

had 



THE 7JIARSALIA OP LVCAtl. 24! 

hiad made M unfeafonatUe attempt to embellilh L E C T. 
it with Machinery ; for the fables of the Gods ^'^• 
would have made a very unnatural mixture with 
the exploits of Ctelar and Pompey ; and inftead 
of railing, would have diminifhed the dignity of 
fuch recent and well-known fa&s^ 

With regard to charai9;ers, Lucan draws 
them with fpirit and with force* But, though 
Pompey be his profeffed Hero, he does not fuc-* 
ceed in intereiling us much in his favour. 
Pompej^is not made to poiTefs any highdiftinc^ 
tion, either for magnanimity in fentiment^ or 
bravery in a&ion ; but, on the contrary, is 
always eclipfed by the fuperior abilities of Caefan 
Cato is, in truth, Lucan's favourite chara^er^ 
and wherever he introduces him, he appears to 
rife above himfelf. Some of the nobleft, and 
mod cbnfpicuous paflages in the work, are fuch 
as relate to Cato ; either fpeecfaes put into his 
mouth, or defcriptions of his behaviour. His 
fpeeeh, in |)articiikir, to LabienuB, who urged 
him to enquire at the Oracle of Jupiter Ammon, 
concerning the iffueof the war [book ix. 564.], 
defer ves to be rem^arked, as equal, for Mpral 
Sublimity, to any thing that is to be found ill 
all antiquity* 

In the condu6l of the ftory, our Author has 
attached himfelf too much to chronological or^^ 
der. This renders the thread of his narration 
broken and interrupted, and makes him hurry 
us too often from place to place. He is too 

VOL. III. R digreffive 



^4a THE PHARSALIA OF LUCAU 

t E c T. digreflive alfo ; frequently turning afide from his 
^^^^^' fubjedl, to give us, fometimes, geographical de- 
fcriptions of a country ; fometimes, philofophical 
difquifitions concerning natural objects ; as, con* 
cerning the African Serpents in the ninth book, 
and the fources of the Nile in the tenth. 

There are, in the Pharfalia, fevend very 
poetical and fpirited defcriptions. But the Au* 
thor's chief ftrength does not lie, either in Nar- 
ration or Defcription. His Narration is often 
dry and harlh : his Defcriptions are oft^n over- 
wrought, and employed too much upon dif- 
agreeable obje^s. His principal merit confifts 
in his fentiments, which are generally noble and 
ftriking, and expreifed in that glowing and ar- 
dent manner, which peculiarly diilinguifhes him. 
Lucan is the moft philofophical, and the moft 
public-fpirited Poet of all antiquity. He was 
the nephew of the famous Seneca, the Philo* 
fopher ; was himfelf a Stoic ; and the ipirit of 
that Philofophy breathes throughout his Poem. 
We muft obferve too, that he is the only antient 
Epic Poet whom the fubjefit of his Poem really 
and deeply interefted. Lucan recounted no fic- 
tion. He was a Roman, and had felt all the 
direful effe6ls of the Roman civil wars, and of 
that fevere defpotifm which fucceeded the lo& 
of liberty. His high and bold Ipirit made him 
enter deeply into this fubjeft, and kindle, on 
many occafions, into the moft real warmths 
Hence, he abounds in exclamations and apo- 
ftrophes, which are, almoft always, well-timed, 

and 



TTHE PHARSALIA Ot LUCAN. 



243 



aiid fupported with a viVacity aild fire that do t £ c T. 
him no fmall honour. . ^^^* 

BtJT it is the fate of this Poet, that his beaiitiea 
can never bie mentioned, without thdr fugg^ft- 
ing his blemifhes alfo. As his principal excel- 
lency is a lively and glowing genius, which ap** 
pears fometimes in his defcriptions, and very 
often in his fehtiments, his great jiefeGt in both 
is, want of moderation. He Carries every thing 
to an extreme. He krioWs not where to flop* 
From an effort to aggrandife his obje6ts, he be- 
comes tumid and unnatural: and it frequently 
happens, that where the fecond line of one of 
his defcriptions is fublime, the thirds in which 
he meant to tife ftill higher, is perfe6lly bombafti 
Lucan lived in an age, wherl the Schools of the 
Declaimers had begurt to corrupt the Eloquence 
and Tafte of Rome. He was not free from 
the infeftion ; and too often, iilftead of fhowing 
the genius of the Poet, betrays the fpirit of the 
Declainier. 

On the whole, however, he is an Author of 
lively and original genius. His fentiments are 
lb high, and his fircj on occafions, fo great, as 
to atone for many of his defeats j and paflTages 
may be produced from him, which are inferior 
to none in any Poet whatever. The charac* 
ters, for inftance, which he draws of Pompey 
«ind Caefar in the firft Book, are mafterly ; and 
the comparifon of Pompey to the aged decaying 
oak, is highly poetiqal : 

K 2 # tot us 



444 '^^^ PHARSALIA OF hVCMf^ 

L £ C T« "^ " '* totus popularibus auris 
XLIV. ^ Impelli, plaufuque fui gaudere theatri ; 

Nee reparare novas vires, multumque priori 

Credere fortunse ^ ftat magni nominis umbra. 

Qualis, frugifero quercus fublimis in agroj 

Exuvias veteres populi, facrataque geftans 

Dona ducum ; nee jam validis radieibus hserens^ 

Pondere iixa fuo eft; nudofque per aera ramoft 

Efftindens, trunco, non frondibus, efBcit umbiam. 

At quamvis primo nutet Cafura fub Euro, 

£t eircum fylvx firmo fe robore toUant, 

Sola tamen colitur. Sed non in C^efare tantum 

Nomen erat, nee fama dueis i fed nefcia virtus 

Stare loco ; folufque pudor non vincere bello i 

Acer et indomitus *» - ■ L.I. 32. 

But 



•v 



* With gifts and liberal bounty fought for £ame» 
And lov'd to hear the vulgar fhout his name ; 
In his own theatre rejoicM to fitf 
AmidH the noify praifes of the pit. 
Carelefs of future ills that might betide, 
No aid he fought to prop his falling fide, 
But on his former fortune much rely'd. 
Still feemM he to poifefsy and fill his place ; 
But flood the fhadow of what once he was. 
So, in the field with Ceres' bounty fpread, 
Uprears fome antient oak his rev'rend head : 
Chaplets, and facred gifts his boughs adorn. 
And fpoils of war by mighty heroes yi^oni ; 
# But the firfl vigour of his root now gone. 

He ftands dependant on his weight alone ; 
All bare his naked branches are difplay*d. 
And with his leaflefs trunk he forms a fhade* 
Yet though the winds his ruin daily threat. 
As every blaft would heave him from his feat ; 
Though thoufand fairer trees the field fupplies, 
That rich in youthful verdure round him rife,* 



Fix'd 



THE PHARSALIA OF LUCAN. ^45 

But wben we confider the whole execution of l E c T. 
his Poem, we are obliged to pronounce, that his , ^^^^ 
poetical fire was not under the government of 
either found judgment, or corre6l tafte. His 
genius had ftrength, but not tendernefe; no- 
thing of what may be called amoenity, or fweet* 
nefs. In his Style, there is abundistnce of force ; 
but a mixture of harftinefe, and frequentfy of 
obfcurity, occafioned by his defire of expreffing 
himfelf in a pointed and unufual manner. Ck)m-» 
pared with Virgil, he may be allowed to have 
more fire and higher fentiments, but in every 
thing elfe, falls infinitely below him, particu* 
larly in purity, elegance, and tendemeft. 

As Statins and Silius Italicus, though they be 
Poets of the Epic Clafs, aire too inconfiderable 
for particular criticifm, I proceed next to TaflTd, 
the moft diftinguilhed Epic Poet in Afodern 

Ages. 



■^•M 



FixM in his antient feat, he yields to none, 
And wears the honours of the grove alone. 
But Caefar's greatnefs, and his ftrength was more. 
Than paft renown and antiquated power ; 
^Twas not the fame of what he once had been. 
Or talea in old records or annals feen ; 
But 'twas a valour, reftlefs, unconfin'd. 
Which no fuccefs could {ate, nor limits bind { 
^Twas fliame, a foldier's fhame, untaught to yield. 
That bluihM for nothing but ao illTfought field. 

RoW£* 

R 3 His 



ft4(J THE JERUSALEM DELIVERED OF TASSO. 

L E c T. His Jerufalem Delivered^ was publifhed in the 
XLiv. y^^^, i574f It is a Poem regularly and ftri6lly 
JEpic, in its whole conftru<Slion ; and adorned 

,with g.11 the beauties that belong to that Ipecies 
of Compofition. The fubjedl is, the Rec6very 
of Jerufalem from the Infidels, by the united 
ppw^r^ of Chriflendom; which, in itfelf, and 

^niore eQ>ecially according to the ideas of Taffo's 
age,. was a fplendid, venerably, and heroic en- 
terprife. The oppofition of the Chriftians to 
the Saracensji forn^s an interefting contrail. The 
fubje6l produces none of thofe fierce and fhoci;- 
ing fcenes of civil difcord, which hurt the mind 
in Lucan, but ejchibits the efforts of zeal and 
bravery, inQ)ired by an honourable obje6l. Th^ 
fliare which Religion poireffes in the enterprife, 
both tends to render it more auguft, aud opens 
a natui'al field for. machinery, and fublime 
defcription. The adtion too lies in a country, 
and at a period of time, fufficiently remote to 
allow an intermixture of fabulous tradition ^nd 
fi6lion with true Hiftory, 

In the condu6l of the ftory, Taflb has fliown a 
rich and fertile invention, which, in a Poet, is a 
capital quality. He is full of events; and thofe 
too abundantly various, and diverfified in their 
kind. He never allows us to be tired by mere 
war and fighting. He frequently ihifta the 
fcene ; and, from camps and battles, tranfports 
us to more pleafing objects. Sometimes the fo- 
lemnities of religion ; fometimes the intrigues 
of love J at other times, the adventures of a 

journey. 



*HE JEKWAtEM DELJVERfiD OF TASSO. 247 

journey, or even the incidents of paftoral life, LE c T. 
relieve and entertain the. Reader, At the fame . ^^^^' 
time, the whole work is artfully connected, and 
while there is much variety in the parts there is 
perfect unity in the plan. The recovery of Je- 
rufalem is the objedl kept in view through the 
whole, and with it the Poem clofes. All the 
Epifodes, if we except that of Olindo and So- 
phronia, in the Second Book, on which I for- 
merly pafled a cenfure, are fuflBciently related 
to the main ful^e6t of the Poem, 

The Poem is enlivened with a variety of cba- 
Ta£ters, and thofe too both clearly marked atid 
well fupported. Godfrey, the leader of the 
enterprife, prudent, moderate, brave ; Tancred, 
amorous, generous, and gallant, and well con* 
trailed with the fierce and brutal Argantes; 
Rinaldo, (who is properly the Hero of the Poem, 
and is in part copied after Homer's Achilles^) 
paffionate and refentful, feduced by the allure- 
ments of Armida; but a perfonage, on the 
whole, of much zeal, honour, and heroifm. The 
brave and high-minded Solyman, the tender 
Erminia, the artful and violent Armida, the 
mafculine Clorinda, are all of them well drawn 
and animated figures. In the chara6teri(lical 
part, Taffo is indeed remarkably diftinguiftied ; 
he is, in this refpe6b, fuperior to Virgil; and 
yields to no Poet, except Homen , 

He abounds very much with Machinery; 
and in this part of the work his merit is more 

E 4 dubious. 



14^ THJtmKfsejiaxH j^tuvnnvi^.^mi VAiaet 

L^ CTv dubious. WherevercelefiUlbeiiigftareniade'td 
y ^ • ^ interpofe, his macbi^ieryis noble>u God Jooking 
down upon the bofts^; uidy on' diffcr&alt pocau 
fioDSy lending an . Arfjgsi : to check the Pagaiis^ 
and to rebuke theid^il fptrits, produces a fubfime 
effe6t. The defcnption of Hell tdoylMritli the 
appearance and fpeech of. Satao^^ an ike beffba^ 
ningof the Fourth Boojc^ is extremefy J;rikiag ; 
and plainly has been iSoiitated by Milton, ithMxigi^ 
be mud be allowed to have impc ove!^ riipoln it 
But the devils,. the enchantec^: kndi theitoa^ 
jurers, aft too great a part throughout Taffo's 
Poem; and form a fi>rt ofidark and^ gloimy 
machinery 9 not pleaiing to tibje* imagiaatton; 
The enchanted wood, on which the iNodusj or 
Intrigue of the Poem » is made in |i ^rea^. mea- 
fure to depend ; the meflengers fent iu queft ^of 
JEtioaldo, in order that he may break the charm; 
their being conduced by a Hermit to a Caxse 
in the centre of the earth ; the wonderful voyage 
which they make to the Fortunate lilands ; and 
their recovering Rinaldo from the charms of 
Armida and voluptuoufnefs ; are fcenes which, 
though very amufing, and defcribed with the 
bigheft beauty of Poetry, yet muil be confefled 
to ca^ry the marvellous to a degree of extra- 
jj^gance. 

In general, that for which Ta0b is moft liable 
to cenfure, is a certain romantic vein, which 
runs through many of the adventures and inci- 
dents of his Poem. , The pbje^ta wJbicb he pre- 
fents to us are ajiwiiy^vgre^t j^but ibnietimes too 
,. ; uf» . : remote 



KNSBinRIISAXSM DELIVERED ^mTtiSStk ^4^ 

liemoteiifx^m; probability. He retiai^s fomewhali Lec^ 
of the tafte of his age, which was not reihlaimed , ^T* 
from an extravagant admiration of the ftories of 
Kriight-Errautry ; ftoricss, whicK the wildi but 
rich and agreeable irnagination of ArioftiDi^ ha^ 
raifed into freih reputation. In apology^! honH 
evsr^'for TaflTo, it may be faid, that h^ is not 
moret ItnarveSlous and romantic than either Ho^ 
mer or ¥ii?giL AU the di£SM*ence is, that in the 
one we find thfe Romance of Faganifm^ ifii tlie 
other that 6f Chivaliy. i . . I 

WitH all the beauties of defcription^^ ^and pf 
Fbetical.Stjrie, Taflb remarkably abound&» Both 
his defcriptions, and his Style, are muoii.diven> 
fified, and well fuited to each other^j fHa d^ 
fcribing magnificent objefts, his Style is firm 
and niajeitic ; when he defcends to* gay /and 
pleafihg oaes, fuch as Erminia's Paftoral Re* 
treat in fthe Seventh Book, and the Arts and 
Beauty of Armida in the Fourth Book, it is 
foft and infinuating. Both thofe defcriptions^ 
which I have mentioned, are exquifite in their 
kindk His battles are animated, and very pro4 
perly varied in the incidents ; inferior however 
to Homer's in point of fpirit and fire. 

> In his fentiments, Taflb is not fb happy as hi 
his deicriptions. It is indeed rather by a6lions^ 
characters, and defcriptidns, that he intereils us^ 
than by the fen timental part of the work« He 
is f^ inferior to Virgil in tendemefs. When 
he aims ^ at being pathetic iuid ientimental in 

his 



850 THE ;i£RU8AIi£M DELIVERED OFTASSa 

I«E c T; his fpeeches, be is apt to become artificial and 
^ZL.ftrained. 

J 

With regard to points and conceits, with 
which he has often been reproached, the cenfure 
has been carried too far. Affe6fcation is by no 
means the general chara6ter of Taflb's manner, 
which, upon the whole, is mafculine, ftrong, 
and corredb. On fome occafions, indeed, eipe- 
cially, as I juft now obferved, when he feeks to 
be tender, he degenerates into forced and unna- 
tural ideas j but thefe are far from being fo fre- 
quent or common as has been fuppofed. Three- 
fcore or fourfcore lines retrenched from the 
Poem, would fully clear it, I am perfuaded, of 
all fuch exceptionable paflages. 

With Boileau, Dacier, and the other French 
critics of the laft age, the humour prevailed of 
decrying Taffo ; and pafled from them to fome 
of the Englifh Writers. But one would be apt 
to imagine, they were not much acquainted with 
Taflb J or at lead they muft have read him under 
the influence of ftrong prejudices. For to me it 
lappears clear, that the Jerufalem is, in rank and 
dignity, the third regular Epic Poem in the 
World ; and comes next to the Iliad and iEneid. 
Taflb may be juftly held inferior to Homer, in 
fimplicity and in fire j to Virgil, in tendernefe ; 
to Milton, in daring fublimity of genius ; but to 
no other he yields in any poetical talents ; and 
for fertility of invention, variety of incidents, 
expreflion of chara6leTs, richneis of defcription, 

and 



THE ORLANDO FURIOSO OF ARSDSTO. f ^« 

at)d beauty of Style, I know no Poet, except the t E c T. 
three juft ufimed, that can be compared to him. ^^^^^ 

Ariosto, the great riyal of Taflb in Italian 
Poetry, cannot, with any propriety, be claffed 
among the Epic Writers. The fundamental rule 
of Epic Compofltion is, to recount an heroic 
enterprife, and to form it into a regular ftory. 
.Though there is a fort of unity and connection 
in the plan of Orlando Furiofo, yet, inilead of 
rendering this apparent to the Reader, it feems 
to have been the Author's intention Xo keep it 
out of view, by the defultory nianner in which 
the Poem is carried ofl, and the perpetual inter- 
ruptions of the Ifeveral ftories before:' they are 
iinifbedt Arioflo appears to have defpifed all 
regularity of plan, and to have chofen to give 
]oofe reins to a copious and rich but extravagant 
fancy. At the fame time, there is fo much Epic 
inatter in the Orlando Ftiriofo, that it would be 
improper to pafs it by without fome notice. It 
unites indeed all forts of Poetry ; fometimes 
comic and latiric ; fometimes light and licen** 
tious ; at other times, highly heroic, deferiptive 
and tender. Whatever (train the Poet afiumesj 
he excels in it. H^ is always mailer of his fub- 
je6l ; feems to play himfelf with it, and leaves 
us fometimes at a loft to krjow whether he be 
ferious or in jeft, He is feldom dramatic ; 
fometimes^ but not often, fentimental ; but in 
parration and defcription, perhaps no Poet ever 
went beyond him. He makes every fcene which 
he defcribes, ^nd every event whiqh he relates, 

pafs 



tjt TH« LUSI AD or CAMOBNSi^ ^ 

X £ C T» |>afs befot'e our eyes ; atid in his feleftiOQ c€ cir« 
^^ ' ^ cumftances, is eminentl)rpi6lurefiitte.' His Stylft 
is much varied, always fuited to the fubjedl, and 
adorned with a remarkie^bly fmooth Mid m^odi- 
ous Verfification. 



'; • . . . ./. 



As the Italians mak^ their boaft of Ta^, fe 
<do the Pottuguefe of Camoetis ; who wad nearly 
ifcotemporary with Taffo, but whdfe Poeto was 
publifhed before the Jeroialem. ' TheiUbjefit oif 
it is tfee firft difcovery bf the Eaft Jfidieb by 
Vafco de Gama j an enterprife fpleiidid JU ife 
nature^ and extremely interefting to th^ douil^ 
trymeh of Camoens ; as rit laid the fout^tion of 
their future wealth and c*)nfideration in Eurojpe. 
The Poem opens with Vafco and his fle^t ap- 
pearing on the ocean, between the Iflaod Miada- 
gafcar, and the Coaft of ^Ethiopia. After 
various attempts to land on that coail, the)r are 
at laft hofpitably received in the kingdom of 
Melinda. Vafco, at the defire of the King, 
gives him an account of Europe, recites a poeti- 
cal hiftory of Portugal, and relates all the ad- 
ventures of the voyage, which had preceded the 
opening of the Poem, This recital takes up 
three Cantos, or Books* It is well imagined ; 
contains a great many poetical beauties ; and 
has no defeat, except that Vafco makes an un- 
feafonable difplay of learning to the African 
Prince, in frequent alluiions to the Greek and 
Roman Hiftories. Vafco and his countrymen 
afterwards fet forth to purfue their voyage* The 
ilorms and diftrefles which they encounter ; 

4 their 



TfU^ liVSIAD OF GAMOEMS^ ^3^ 

their arrival at Calecut on the Malabar Cpaft ; L £ c T^ 
their reception and adventures in that cjountry, ^^^^^' 
Qjid at laft their return homewards, fill up the ^ 

reft of the Poem* 

> • . . > 

The whole work is condu6);ed according to 
the Dpic plan. Both the fubje6t and the inci« 
dents are magnificent; and joined with fome 
wildn^fs and irregularity, there appear in the 
^ecution much poetic ^irit, ftrong fancy, and 
bold defcription } as far as I can judge from 
tranilations, without any knowledge of the ori« 
ginal. There is no attempt towards painting 
chara6ters in the Poem : Vd^co is the Hero, and 
the only perfonagq indeed that makes any figure. 

The Machinery of the Lufiad is perfe6lly ex* 
travagant ; not only is it formed of a fingular 
mixture of Chriftian ideas, and Pagan mytho- 
logy; but it is fo condudted, that the Pagan 
Gods appear to be the true Deities, and Chrift 
and the Blefled Virgin to be fubordinate Agents* 
One great fcope of the Portuguefe expedition, 
our Author inform^s us, is to propagate the 
Chriftism faith, and to extirpate Mahometanilm. 
In this religious undertaking, the great pro- 
teQ:or of the Portuguefe is Venus, and their 
great adverfary is Bacchus, whofe difpleafure is 
excited by Vafco's attempting to rival his fame 
in the Indies* Councils of the Gods are held, 
in which Jupiter is introduced, as foretelling the 
downfalof Mahoroetanifm, and the propagation 
of the Gofpel. Vafco, ijqi great diftre& from 9 

ftorm. 



^54 ^i^'E LUSIAD OF CAMOfiNfil/ 

t E c T* ftorm, prays moll ferioufly to God j imploreii 
^^* the aid of Chrift and the Virgin, and begs for 
fuch affiiladde bA was given to the Ifraelitied^ 
when they were palling through the Red Sea^ 
^nd to the Apoflle Paul, when he was in hazard 
6f fhipwreck. In return ;to this prayer, Venus 
appears, who difcerning the ftorm to be thei 
WoA ()f Bacchus, cdnlplairis to Jupiter^ and pro* 
cures the winds td be calmed. Such ftrang^ 
arid pt^pofterous Machinery, fliOws how much 
Authors have befen niifled by the abfurd opinion^ 
that there could be nd Epic Poetry without the 
Gods of Homer. Towards the end of the work, 
indeed, the Author gives us an awkward falvo 
for his whole Mythology ; making the Goddefi 
Thetis inform Vafco, that flie, and the reft of 
the Heathen Deities, ai*e no more thari names to 
defcribe the operations of Providence* 

Tn£RE IS, however, fome firie Machinery of i 
different kind, in the Luliad. The genius of 
the rivei* Gangers, appearing to Emanuel King 
of Portugal, in a dream, inviting that Princfe td 
difcover his fecret fprings, and acquainting him 
that he was the deftined monarch for whom the! 
treafures of the Eaft were referved, is a happy 
idea. But the noblell conception of this fbrtj 
is in the Fifth Canto, where Vafco is recounting 
to the King of Melinda, all the wonders which 
he met with in his navigation. He tells him^ 
that when the fleet arrived at the Cape, of Good 
Hope, which never before had been doubled by 
any navigator, there appear^(jl to them on a fud^ 

3 den. 



THE TELEMACHUS OF FENELDlf. l^ij 

den, a huge and monftrous phantom riflng out le c T# 
of the fea, in the midfl of tempefts and thun^* ^ 

ders, with a head that reached the clouds, and 
a countenance that filled them with terror. 
This was the genius, or guardian, of that hi- 
therto unknown ocean. It fpoke to them with 
a voice like thunder ; menacing them for in- 
vading thofe feas which he had fo long pofieiTed 
undiilurbed ; and for daring to explore thofe 
fecrets of the deep, which never had been re- 
vealed to the eye of mortals } required them to 
proceed no farther; if they ihould proceed^ 
foretold all the fucceffive calamities that were to 
befal them ; and then, with a mighty noife, dif- 
appeared. This is one of the moft folemn and 
finking pieces of Machinery that ever Was etfl- 
ployed ; and is fufficient to fliew that Ca- 
moens is a Poet, though of an irregular, yet of 
a bold and lofty imagination *• 

In reviewing the Epic Poets, it were unjuft 
to make no mention of the amiable author of the 
Adventures of Telemachus, His work, though 
not compofed in Verfe, is juftly entitled to be 
held a Poem. The meafured poetical Profe, in 
which it is written, is remarkably harmonious ; 
$nd gives the Style nearly as much elevation as 



* I hate made no mention of the Araucana9 an Epic Poem, 
in Spanifh, compofed by Alonzo d'Ercilla, becaufe I am un- 
acquainted with the original language^ and have not feen any 
Vranflation of it. A full account of it is given by Mr. Hayley, 
%i ^ Notes upon hi^ Eflay ou E^ic Poetry. 

the 



%lj^$ ma TELEMACHUS OV FBMEUW^ 

L £ c T.^ th6 French language is capable of fupporting, 
^^^^^ even in regular Verfe* 

. *rt£il pl*ft of the work, is, in general, well 
contrivied; and is deficient neither in Epic 
grandeur, iwr unity of obje6l. The Author 
has entered with much felicity into the Qnrit 
and ideas of the Antient Poets, particularly 
into the Antient Mythology, which retains 
more dignity, and makes a better figure in his 
hands, than in thofe of any other Modern Poet. 
His defcriptions are rich and beautiful; efpe^ 
cially of the fofter and calmer fcenes, for which 
the genius of Fenelon was heft fuited ; fuch as 
the incidents of pailoral life, the pleafures of 
virtue, or a country flourifhing in peace. Tbere 
is an inimitable fweetnefs and tendernefs in fe* 
veral of the pi6tures of this kind, which he has 
given. 

The bed executed part of the work, is the 
firft fix books, in which Telamachus recounts 
|us adventures to Calypfo. The Narration, 
throughout them, is lively and interefting^ 
Afterwards, efpecially in the laft twelve books, 
it becomes more tedious and languid ; and in 
the warlike adventures which are attempted, 
there is a great defe6b of vigour. The chief 
objeftion againfi; this work being clafled with 
Epic Poems, arifes from the minute details of 
virtuous policy into which the Author in fome 
places enters } and £com the difcourfes and in- 

ftru£tions^ 



ftim6libns<of Ojtfeiiior, whicK^r&uf iup^^^^ loo LiE j: T-f 
often J and tob much >upon the ftraiu, ofc.com-^ .^^ \ j 
mon-plat>e morality. Though thefe :werci:w.cH 
fiiited to the main defigw; of the Autbdr^iiwbich 
was to form the mind of a young Piimjeii yet 
they feem not congruous to the natur-e x^ Epic 
Poetry ; the object of which is to imjirove uafig^ 
means of actions, chara6ters^ and f^ntiineabltl,* 
rather than by delivering profeffed aiM&lifortniEU' 
inftru6lion. 



.r .,. ■ 



Several of the Epic Poets have d^foribed a- 
defcent into Hell; and in the pr6il|)e6ls they 
have given us of the invifible world, we may 
obferve the gradual refinement of men's notion^ 
concerning a Hate of future rewards and pu» 
nilhments. The defcent of Ulyffes into Hell, 
in Homer's OdyfTey, prefents to us a very in- 
diftin6l and dreary fort of objefil. The fcene is 
laid in the country of the Cimmerianis, which is 
always covered with clouds and darknefs, at the 
extremity of the ocean. When the fpirits of 
the dead begin to appear, we fcarcely know 
whether Ulyffes is above ground, or below it. 
None of the ghofts, even of the heroes, appear 
fatisfied with their condition in the other world ; 
and when Ulyffes endeavours to comfort Achilles^ 
by reminding him of the illuilrious figure which 
he muft make in thofe regions, Achilles roundly 
tells him, that all fuch fpeeches are idle'; for be 
would rather be a day-labourer on earth, than 
have the command of all the dead. 

VOL. III. s In 



458 THE HENRIADE OF VOLTAIRE. 

L £ c T. In the Sixth Book of the iEneid, we difbern 
^^* , a much greater refinement of Ideas^ corret 
ponding to the progrefs which the world had 
then made in philofophy. The obje^s there 
delineated are both more clear and diilind;, and 
more grand and awful. The feparate manfions 
of good and of bad ipirits^ with the puniihments 
ofthe.one» and the employments and happineis 
of the other, are finely defcribed ; and in con** 
fiftency with the mod pure morality. But the 
vifit which Fenelon makes Telemachus pay to 
the fhades, is much more philofophical llill than 
Virgil's. He employs the fame fables and the 
fame mythology ; but we find the antient my- 
thology refined by the knowledge of the true re- 
ligion, and adorned with that beautiful enthu^ 
fiafm, for which Fenelon was fo difi;ingui{hed. 
His account of the happineis of the juft is an 
excellent defcription in the myftic drain ; and 
very expreflive of the genius and Ipirit of the 
Author. 

Voltaire has given us^ in his Henriade^ a. 
regular Epic Poem, in French verfe. In every 
performance of that celebrated Writer, we may 
expe£): to find marks of genius ; and^ accord- 
ingly, that work difcovers, in feveral places, 
that boldnefs in the conceptions, and that live- 
linefs and felicity in the expreflion, for which 
the Author is fo remarkably diflinguiihed* Se- 
veral of the comparifons, in particular, which 
occur in it, are both new and happy. But con- 
fidered upon the whole, I cannot eileem it one 

of 



THE HENRIADE OF VOLTAIRE* ^59 

of his' chief produfilions j and am of opinion, L E c T. 
that he has fucceeded infinitely better in Tragic, ^^^* 
than in Epic Compofition. French Verfifica- 
tion feems iU adapted to Epic Poetry. Befides 
its being always fettered by rhyme, the language 
never aflbmes a fufficient degree of elevation or 
majefty ; and appears to be more capable of ex.* 
preffingthe tender in Tragedy^ than of fupport- 
ing the fublime in Epic. Hence a feeblenels, 
and fometimes a profaic flatnefb, in the Style of 
the Henriade ; and whether from this, or from 
fome other caufe, the Poem often languiflies* 
It does not feize the imagination ; nor interelTS 
and carry the Reader along, with that ardour I 
which ought to be infpired by a fublime an^ 
Ipirited Epic Poemk 

The fubjedt of the Henriade, is the trmmph 
of Henry the Fourth over the arms of the League. 
The a6lion of the Poem, properly includes only 
the Siege of Paris. It is an afilion perfe6lly Epic 
in its nature ; great, intereiling, and conducted 
with a fufficient regard to unity, and all the other 
critical rules. But it is liable to both the de- 
fe6ts which I before remarked in Lucan's Phar- 
falia. It is founded wholly on civil wars j and 
prefents to us thofe odious and deteftable ob- 
jects of maflacres and affaffinations, which throw 
a gloom over the Poem. It is alfo, like Lucan's, 
of too recent a date, and comes too much within - 
the bounds of well-known hiftory. To remedy 
this lad defeat, and to remove the appearance 
of being a mere biftprian, Yoltjiire has chofen 

s 2 to 




26o THE HENRIADE OF VCOLTAIME 

L E c T. to mix fiftion with truth. The Poem, for in- 
^'^^^' ftance, opens with a voyage of }iemy^% ta Eng- 
land, and an interview between him and Queen 
Elizabeth ; though every one knows that HcRfj 
never was in England, and that thefe two illuf- 
trious perfonages never met. In fafts of fuch 
public notoriety, a fiftion like this fliocks the 
Reader, and forms an unnatural and ill-fbrted 
mixture with hiftorical truth. The Epifode was 
contrived, in order to give Henry an opportu- 
nity of recounting the former tranla£bions of 
the civil wars, in imitation of the recital which 
jiEneas makes to Dido in the j3i!neid. But the 
imitation was injudicious. JEneas might, with 
propriety, relate to Dido, tranfaftions of which 
Ihe was either entirely ignorant, or had acquired 
only an imperfe6l knowledge by flying reports. 
But Queen Elizabeth could not but be fuppofed 
to be perfectly apprifed of all the fads, which 
the Poet makes Henry recite to her. 

In order to embellifli his fubje6l, Voltaire has 
chofen to employ a great deal of Machinery. 
But here, alfo, I am obliged to cenfure his con- 
du6l ; for the Machinery, which he chiefly em- 
ploys, is of the worfl kind, and the lead fuited to an 
Epic Poem, that of allegorical beings. Difcord, 
Cunning, and Love, appear as perfonages, mix 
with the human a6tors, and make a confidera* 
ble figure in the intrigue of the Poem. This is 
contrary to every rule of rational criticifm. 
Ghofts, Angels, and Devils have popular belief 
on their fide, and may be conceived as exiiiing. 

But 



THE^MEMRIADE OF VOLTAIRE. ^6i 

But ev&ty one kiiows, that allegorical beings L E c T. 
arfe no more than reprefentations of human dif- ^^^* 
pofitions and paffitnis. They may be employed 
like otiber Ferfonifications and Figures of Speech ; 
or in a Poem, that is wholly allegorical, they msLy 
occupy the chief place. They are there in their 
native and proper .region ; but in a Poem which 
relates to human tranfadions, as I had occafion 
bsfoBe to remark, wbed fiich beings are de&ribed 
as . a&ihg^ along with men, the imagination 
is confounded ; it is divided between phan* 
tafms and realities, and knows not on what to 
reft* 

In juftice, however, to our Author, I muft 
obferve, that the Machinery of St. Louis, which 
he alfo employs, is of a better kind, and pof- 
fefTes real dignity. The fineft paflage in the 
Henriade, indeed one of the fineft that occurs 
in any Poem, is the proipeSb of the invifible 
worid, Mrfaich St. Louis gives to Henry in a 
dream, in the Seventh C!airto. Death bringing 
the fouls of the departed in fiicceffion before 
God ; their aftonifhirtent, when, arriving from 
all different countries and religious fefts, they 
are brought into the divine prefence ; when they 
find their fiiperftitions to be faUEe, and have the 
trath unveiled to them ; the palace of the De£^ 
tinies opened to Henry, and the pioipe6t of his 
fbcceflbrs whidt is there given hiiti ; are ftriking 
and magnificent objefts, aad do honour to the 
genius of Voltaire. 

s 3 Though 



a6ft MILTOW'f PARADISE LOS'R 

L B c T, Though fome of the Epifodes in this Toem 
^^^' are properly extended, yet the Narration is, on 
the whole, too general ; the events are too much 
crowded, and fuperficially related; which is, 
doubtlefs, one caufe of the Poem making a faint 
impreilion. The ftrain of fentiment which runs 
through it, is high and noble. Religion ap-i 
pears, on every occafion, with great and proper 
luftre ; and the Author breathes that ' ^irit of 
humanity and toleration, ^hich is confpicuous 
in all his works. 

Milton, of whom it remains now to (peak, 
has chalked out for himfelf a new, and very 
extraordinary road, in Poetry. As £>on as we 
open his Paradife Loft, we find ourfelves intro- 
duced all at once into an invifible world, and 
furrounded with celeftial and infernal beings. 
Angels and Devils are not the Machinery, but 
principal adlors, in the Poem ; and what, in any 
other compofition, would he the mairvellous, is 
here only the natural courfe of events. A fub- 
je6l fo remote from the affairs of this world, may 
furniih ground to thofe who think fiich difcu^ 
fions material, to bring it into doubt, whether 
Paradife Loil can properly he clafled among 
Epic Poems. By whatever name it is to be 
cdled, it is, undoubtedly, one of the . higheft 
efforts of poetical genius ; and in oiae great cha** 
rafi^eriftic of the Epic Poem^ [ Msj^y and Su^ 
blimity, it is fully equal to any that bear that 






How 



MILTON'S PARADISE liDST. <&63 

How far the Author was altogether; bappy in i; E c T. 
the choice of his fubje6b, may be . qiiisftioJied* .j ^^ ^ 
It has led him into very difficult grQundt..! Had 
he taken a fiibje^ that: was morc^ihtirban^ and 
lefs theological ; that wais inoar€baonne6led Vff^ 
the occurrences of life ; and afibrtjled m^-grefttef 
difplay of the charafters and piaflSions of jneft, 
his Poem would, perhaps, ha^t^ to^'the^bplk of 
Readers, been more pleafing aiid attm^ive. 
But the fubjefit which be h^schofen;; iuited th^ 
daring fublimity of his gefiiu^^^*. It' is .aifuJjgie^ 
for which Milton alone was fitted ;: an^ in ibi 
conduft of it, he h*3^ Ibown * ftretcH boilh Of 
imagination and in viehtio^j. which is< p^rfj^\y 
wonderful. It is aftonifhing how, from the few 

hints given us in the Sacrod'Scriptur^j^^; be ;was 
jable to raifefo corjiplet^,^^ regular^^ijbrufltjura ; 
and to fill hi3 .PoQi»,with fiic^ » yarkty; ;^ in-^^i- 
dents. Pry jand ^iidb^^aj^OsTometiHies.pcijiif. 
The Author iippearsj upp^)i'oi)ci^; ^j5^fiofi3^;|i 
Metaphyfiqian and a Divii»ii rather: iJbgp a Ppe<^ 
But the general tenor .olbi* WP%i^fi»tei^iTjgi 
he feizes an4 jfises .tbe; ifS^g^pjtfiQP ;--€#g^S* 
elevates, m^ affects- us as we proQf^, , i^^hicb js 
always ^ fiip^ teft of meri!t:inff^n.EpiciGQga|H^^ 

« '< He feeitift t6 (iav^ 1)ecf& ¥A ac^utiMed^Mih liiftioM^ 
<< geniusy and to know wfiiat it. iras that ioairim fad :b«ft9W(«d 
<< upon him moite ^untifully l^^n lipba pU^r&^:|,:V^f ifY^^^^i' 
^< difplaying th? Y^ft^,jll|uniijatin^ th^ fj^ep^i}i| epforcip^ tH? 
^* awfuly darkening the gloomy^ aiid afgeravating t& dreadful. 
<« He therefore'iMbfe a Mijeft, Otf wMdi to6 Wch cdtfltf fet 
<< be faid ; on which lie might ^ Ims faiid^; ViihdliVth^ ttdL 

9 4 tian. 



,254 .iBSLxairkce&iLaDisE lobt. 

t E CT. tion;-:; The artftil change of 4iis objefiks;' the 
'^^^* ^ fenelfiddnow in Earth, >6^ in Hell, mod not 
jin^Heaben; affords a ifuffideot diver^ whik 
hinity^ofiiplan is^ at^the fame tiine, perfe^ 
i^fp6rtkdirri^e}h2ffe itiil life^ and calm fbenea, 
iK tiie ;em|{lo^dnti of Adatn and Eve in Fard- 
4if0:;^afnd'^l|aVe bfify fciBoes, and great ab- 
tiom^^in the' etrtdtpirife of SaUin, and tlie wais 
of the ' Ang^. ; fTbe innocence, puri<y, and 
amiablenelk ^ oiir firfl parents, oppofed to the 
•^de bud adibition of Satan, furniflies ^ happy 
^l^onttkft^ that reigfid throughout the whofe 
Poeti; only tht Goifdufion, a^ I before ob- 
feh^edv Is too tragic for Epic Poetry* 

Tim n^tinre (ittli^f^J^eSb did not admit any 
j^Mt di!(pla;y of (ifhat^a^beh j^but fucti las conkl 
%i- inti^odue^, ^Pt^itupj^WttfAy^i^ tiiuch pro- 
^H^ty/ ISktan, ilv pattiicUlMry 96i$k^ a fir iking 
^ig^rgji jftl»il i» indexed ithe beft ^a^wn ^ cbarafter 
jls tlie^> Po^. ^MiltW' hks not 4elbtibed him 
ftieh^W^^gt Aipfiof«r «ftl kfem^ f^tit to be. He 
htiMi-ymet Miitbiyi'm' hi^ oWn'ptorpofe, giv^n 
fiiiti^k' Tiukim^' thM 1s^' a taiixed ^harad^er, not 
^lit6g^^]^^^Xmdfibf • >fom6 ^good qCi^ties. He is 
brave and faithful to his troops. In 4he midil 
•ofchis ,imp\»\y.9 pe mfiot FitJioujt femorfe. He 
iis^^eti rtobcbed With pii^ for ourfiift parents; 
arid juftteddW^^ againft them, 

ifVprn \the' to^^^ ;of his Situation. He is ac- 
[i^2^d1;^y^^T^ rather than 

i^ pnxemaiifi^wr: In ihorty Milton^s Satan is no 
•w^d^-tbai^fifWRyacii^fpirator oria^^ chief 
-^ i^ *^ '^ that 



KlIiTON*i PA91ADISE LOST. ^1^65 

that makes a iiirure in hiftory. The different I. E c X 
l2hara6ters of Beelzebub^ Moloch, Belial, are 
exceedingly well paintiad in thofe eloquent 
fpeeches which they make in the Second Book. 
The good Angels, though . always defcribed 
with dignity and propriety, have more imi- 
formity than the infernal Spirits in their ap- 
pearance; though among them, too, the dig- 
nity of Michael, the miid conddcenfion of 
ilaphael, and the tried fiddity of Abdiel, form 
proper chara^eriftical diftin6lions. The at^ 
tempt to defcribe God Almighty himfelf, and 
to recount dialogues between the Father and 
the Son, was too bold and arduous, and is that 
wherein our Poet, as was to have been expe6ted, 
has been moll unfuccefsful. With regard to his 
human charad;ers ; the innocence of our firft 
parents, and their love, are finely and deli- 
cately painted. In fome of his fpeeches to 
Raphael and to Eve, Adam, is, perhaps, too 
knowing and refined for his iituation. Eve is 
more diftin^Uy chara6terifed. Her gentlenft&, 
modefty, and frailty, mark very expreffively a 
female charadler. 

Milton's great and diilinguifhing excellence 
is, his fublimity. In this, perhaps, he excels 
Homer; as there is no doubt of his leaving 
Virgil, and every other Poet, far behind Mm. 
Almoft the whole of the Firfl and Second Bodks 
of Paradife Loft are continued inftances of the 
fubHme. T^ profpe6t of Hell and of the fallen 
Hoft, the appearance and behaviour of Satan^ 

the 



S65 lULTON's PARADISE LOST. 

LECT. the confultation of the infernal Cbieft^ and 
^^^' Satan's flight through Chaos to the borders of 
this world, difcover the mod lofty ideas that 
ever entered into the conception of any Poet 
In the Sixth Book, alfo, there is much grandeur, 
particularly in the appearance of the Meffiah ; 
though fome parts of that book are cenfurable ; 
end the witticifms of the Devils upon the eSdSt 
of their artillery, form an intolerable blemiih* 
Milton's fublimity is of a different kind from 
that of Homer. Homer's is generally accom* 
panied with Are and impetuofity ; Milton's pof* 
fefles more of a calm and amazing grandeur. 
Homer warms and hurries us along; Milton 
fixes us in a Hate of aflonifhment and elevation. 
Homer's fublimity appears mod in the defcrip* 
tion of a6tions ; Milton's, in that of wonderiUl 
and ilupendous objects, 

But though Milton is mod didinguifhed for 
his fublimity, yet there is alfo much of the b^u* 
tiftil, the tender, and the pleafing, in many 
parts of his work. When the fcene is laid in 
Paradife, the imagery is always of the mod gay 
and fmiling kind. His defcriptions fhow an un- 
commonly fertile imagination ; and in his &mu 
lies, he is, for the mod part, remarkably happy. 
They are feldom improperly introduced ; feldom 
either low or trite. They generally prefent to 
us images taken from the fublime or the beau« 
tiful clafs of ol^edis ; if the^^have any faults, it 
is their alluding too frequently to matters of 
^earning, and to fables of antiquity. I9 the 

latter 



xuv. 



MILTON'S PARADISE LOST. a6f 

latter part of Paradife loft, there muft be con* L^ c T. 
feffed to be ^ falling off. With the fall of our 
firft parents, Milton's genius feems to decline. 
Beauties, however, there are, in the concluding 
Books, of the tragic kind. The remorfe and 
contrition of the guilty pair; and their lamenta^ 
tions over Paradife, when they are obliged to 
leave it, are very moving. The laft Epifode of 
the Angels ihowing Adam the fate of his pofte* 
rity, is happily imagined ; but, ip many places, 
the execution is languid. 

Milton's Language and Verfification have 
high merit. His Style is full of majefty, and 
wonderfully Ji-dapted to his fubjedl. His blank 
verfe is harmonious and diverfified, and anords 
the moft complete example of the elevation 
which our language is capable of attaining by 
the force of numbers. It does not flow, like the 
French verfe, in tame, regular, unifor^n m^elody, 
which ibon tires the ear; but is fometimea 
fmooth and flowing, fometimes rough; varied 
in its cadence, and intermixed with difcords, fo 
as to fuit the ftrength and freedom of Epic Com- 
pofition. Neglefiled and profaic lines, indeed,^ 
we fometimes meet with; but, in a work fa 
long, and in the iqain fo harmonious, thefe may 
te forgiven, 

On the whole, Paradife Loft is a Poem that 
3,bounds with beauties of every kind, and that 
juftly entitles its Author to a degree of fame not 
inferior to any Poet ; though it muft be alfo ad^ 

mitted 



a68 MILTON'S PARADISE LOST. 

L E c T. mitted to have many inequalities. It is the lot 

^ft TXT 

^ ^^ of almoft every high and daring genius, not to 
be uniform and corre6l. Milton is too fre- 
quently theological and metaphyfical ; fome- 
times harih in his language ; often too technical 
in his words, and affe6tedly oflentatious of his 
learning. Many of his faults mxift be attributed 
to the pedantry of the age in which he lived* 
He difcovers a vigour, a grafp of genms equal 
to every thing that is grea4; ; if at ibme times be 
falls much below himfelf^ at other times he rifes 
above every Poet, of the antient or modern 
world. 



r- >■ 






LECTURE XLV. 



DRAMATIC POETRY — TRAGEDY. 

T-^KAMATic Poetry has, among all civilized na- L E c T. 

tions, been confidered as a rational and ufe- ^^^' 
ful entertainment, and judged worthy of careful 
and ferious difcuffion. According as it is em- 
ployed upon the light and the gay, or upon the 
grave and affe6ling incidents of human life, it 
divides itfelf into the two forms of Comedy or 
Tragedy. But as great and ferious obje6ls com- 
mand more attention than little and ludicrous 
ones J as the fall of a Hero interetts the public 
more than the marriage of a private perfon ; 
Tragedy has been always held a more dignified 
entertainment than Comedy. The one refts 
upon the high paffions, the virtues, crimes, and 
fufferings of mankind ; the other on their hu- 
mours, follies, and pleafures. Terror and pity 
are the great inftruments of the former j ridicule 
is the fole inftrument of the latter. Tragedy 
fliall therefore be the objeft of our fuUeft dif- 
cuffion. This and the following lecture fliall be 

employed 



a;6 TRAGEDY. 

L B c T. employed on it ; after which I Ihall treat ofvfhit 
• is peculiar to Comedy* 

TrAgedv, confidered as an exhibition of the 
charafiters and behaviour of men in fome of the 
mod trying and critical fituations of life, is ^ 
tioble idea of Poetty. It is a dire^ imitation of' 
human manners and a6tions. For it does not, 
like the Epic Poem, exhibit chara6leri^ by the 
narration and defcription of the Poet ; but the 
Poet difappears ; and the perfonages themfelves 
are fet before us, a6ling and fpeaking what is 
fuitable to their chara<3;ers. Hence, no kind 
of writing is fo great a trial of the Author's pro- 
found knowledge of the human heart. No kind 
of writing has fo much power, when happily 
executed^ to raife the ftrongeft emotions. It 
is, or ought to be^ a mirror in which we behold 
ourfelvesj and the evils to which we are expofed ) 
a faithful copy of the human paffions, with all 
their direful effe6ls, when they are fuffered to 
become extravagant^ 

As Tragedy is a high and diftingiliflied Ipecies 
of Compofition, fo alfoj in its general ilrain and 
fpirit, it is favourable to virtue. Such power 
hath virtue happily oVer the human mind, by 
the wife and gracious conftitution of our nature^ 
that as admiration cannot be raifed in Epic 
Poetry, fo neither in Tragic Poetry can our 
paffions be ftrongly moved, unlefs virtuous emo* 
tions be awakened within us. Every Poet finds, 
that it is impoffible to intereft us in any cha- 
3 ra6ler, 



TRAGEDY. ^» 

m&etj without reprefenting that charafitef as L E c T« 
worthy and honourable, though it may not be 
perfefl; ; and that the great fecret for raifing in- 
dignation, is to paint the perfon who is to be 
the objeft of it, in the colours of vice and de- 
pravity. He may, indeed, nay, he muft, re- 
prefent the virtuous as fometimes unfortunate^ 
becaufe this is often the cafe in real life ; but 
he will always iludy to engage our hearts in 
their behalf ; and though they may be defcribed 
as unprofperous,. yet there is no inftance of a 
Tragic Poet reprefenting vice as fully tri- 
umphant and happy in the cataftrophe of the 
Piece. Even when bad men fucceed in their 
defigns, punifhment is made always to attend 
them ; and mifery of one kind or other is fhewn 
to be unavoidably conne6i:ed with guilt. Love 
and admiration of virtuous chara6ters, compaC* 
fion for the injured and the diflrefled, and in- 
dignation againfl the authors of their fufferings, ' 
are the fentiments moft generally excited by 
Tragedy. And, therefore, though Dramatic 
Writers may fometimes, like other Writers, be 
guilty of improprieties, though they may fail of 
placing virtue precifely in the due point of light, 
yet no reafonable perfon can deny Tragedy to 
be a moral fpecies of Compolition. Taking 
Tragedies complexly, I am fully perfuaded, that 
the impreffions left by them upon the mind, 
are, on the whole, favourable to virtue and 
good difpofitions. And, therefore, the zeal 
which fome pious men have (hown againft the 
entertainments of the Theatre muil reft only 

upon 



T}9^ TRAGEDY. 

L £ c T. upon the abufe of Comedy ; ^vhich, ibdeed^Itas 
^^^' j&equently been fo great as to jufUfy very fevwe 
cenfures againil it. 

The account which Ariftode gives of the de- 
fign of Tragedy is, that it is intended to purge 
our paifions by means of pity and terror. This 
is fomewhat obfcure. Various fenfes have been 
put upon his words, and much altercation has 
followed among his commentators. Without 
entering into any controveriy ypon this head, 
the intention of Tragedy may, I think, be more 
Ihortly and clearly defined, to improve our vir- 
tuous fenfibility. If an Author interefts us in 
behalf of virtue, forms us to compaffion for the 
diftreffed, infpires us with proper fentiments, on 
beholding the viciffitudes of life, and, by means 
of the concern which he raifes for the misfor- 
tunes of others, leads us to guard againil errors 
in our own condu6t, he accompliihes all the 
moral purpofes of Tragedy. 

In order to this end, the firft requifite is, that 
he choofe fome moving and interefting ftory, 
and that he condu6t it in a natural and probable 
manner. For we muft obferve, that the natural 
and the probable muil always be the bafis of 
Tragedy; and are infinitely more important 
there, than in Epic Poetry. The obje6i: of the 
Epic Poet is to excite our admiration by the re- 
cital of heroic adventures ;/and a much (lighter 
degree of probability is required when admira- 
tion is concerned, than when the tender paffions 

15 are 



TRAGEDY. 27^ 

are intended to be moved*/ The imagination, L e c T. 
in the former cafe, is exalted^ accommodates . ^^^• 
itfelf to the Poet's idea, and can admit the mar* 
vellous without being Ihocked. But Tragedy 
demands a ftrifter imitation of the life and ac* 
tions of men. For _the end which it purfues is, 
not fo much to elevate imagination, as to afFe6k 
the heart ; and the heart always judges more 
nicelytEan the imagination, of what is probable. 
Paffion can be raifed, only by making the im« 
preffions of nature, and of truth, upon the mind. 
By introducing, therefore, any wild or romantic 
circumftances into his Story, the Poet never fails 
to check pa.ffion in its growth, and, of courfe^ 
difappoints the main effeft of Tragedy. y 

This principle, which is founded on the cleareft 
reafon, excludes from Tragedy all Machinery, 
or fabulous intervention of the Gods, Ghofts 
have, indeed, maintained their place ; as being 
llrongly founded on popular belief, and pecu- 
liarly fuited to heighten the terror of Tragic 
Scenes. But all unravellings of the Plot, which 
turn upon the interpofition of Deities, fuch as 
Euripides employs in feveral of his plays, are 
much to be condemned ; both as clumfy and in- 
artificial, and as deftroying the probability of 
the Story. This mixture of Machinery, with 
the Tragic A6lion, is undoubtedly a blemifh in 
the Antient Theatre. 

In order to promote that impreffion of proba- 
bility which is fo neceflary to the fuccefs of 
VOL. III. T Tragedy, 



174 TRAGEDY- 

L E c T, Tragedy, fome Critics have required, that the 
^^' fubje6l (hould never be a pure fi6lion ioveuted 
by the Poet, but built on real hiftory, or known 
fa£ls. Such, indeed, were generally, if not al- 
ways, the fubjedts of the Greek Tragedians. 
But I cannot hold this to be a matter of any 
great confequence. It is proved by experience, 
that a ii6titious tale, if properly condu^d, will 
melt the heart as much as any real hiftory* In 
order to our being moved, it is not neceflary 
that the events related did a6tually happen, pro- 
vided they be fuch as might eafily have happened 
in the ordinary courfe of nature. Even when 
Tragedy borrows its materials from Hiftory, it 
mixes many a fidlitious circumftance. The 
greateft part of Readers neither know, nor en- 
quire, what is fabulous, or what is hiftorical, in 
the fubje6l- They attend only to what is pro- 
bable, and are touched by events which re- 
femble nature. Accordingly, fome of the moft 
pathetic Tragedies are entirely fictitious in the 
lubje6l ; fuch as Voltaire's Zaire and Alzire, the 
Orphan, Douglas, the Fair Penitent, and feveral 
others. 

Whether the fubje6l be of the real or feigned 
kind, that on which moft depends for rendering 
the incidents in a Tragedy probable, and by 
means of their probability affedling, is the con- 
duct or management of the Story, and the con- 
nexion of its feveral parts. To regulate this 
condu6l. Critics have laid down the famous rule 
of the three Unities ; the importance of which it 

2 will 



TRAGEDY, ^75 

«rfll be neceffary to difcufs. But, in order to l E c T. 
io this with more advantage, it will be necef- ^ ^-^ 
[ary, that we firft look backwards, and trace the 
rife and origin of Tragedy, which will give light 
to feveral things relating to the fubje6l. 

Tragedy, like other arts, was, in its begin- 
riing, rude and imperfedl. Among the Greeks, 
From whom our Dramatic Entertainments are 
derived, the origin of Tragedy was no other than 
the Song which was wont to be fung at the fef- 
tival of Bacchus. A goat was the facrifice of- 
fered to that God ; after the facrifice, the Priefts, 
with the company that joined them, fung hymns 
in honour of Bacchus; and from the name of 
the vi6lim, tj ayo? a Goat, joined with din a Song, 
undoubtedly arofe the word Tragedy. 

These Hymns, or Lyric Poems, were fung 
fometimes by the whole company, fometimes by 
feparate bands, anfwering alternately to each 
other ; making what we call a Chorus, with its 
Strophes and Antiftrophes. In order to throw 
fome variety into this entertainment, and to re- 
lieve the Singers, it was thought proper to in- 
troduce a perfon who, between the Songs, fhould 
make a recitation in Verfe. Thefpis, who lived 
about 536 years before the Chriflian aera, made 
this innovation ; and, as it was reliflied, -iEfchy- 
lus, who came 50 years after him, and who is 
properly the father of Tragedy, ^frent a ftep 
farther, introduced a Dialogue between two 
perfons^ or a£tors, in which he contrived to in- 

T a terweave 



276 TRAGEDY. 

LE CT. terweave ibme interefiing flory, mod brought Ids 
^^' J actors on a Stage, adorned with proper fceneiy 
and decorations. All that thefe a&ors recited, 
was called Epifode, or additional Song ^ and the 
Songs of the Chorus were made to relate no 
longer to Bacchus, their original fubje&, but 
to the ilory in which the a&ors were concerned. 
This began to give the Drama a regular fbrm, 
which was foon after brought to perfeftion by 
Sophocles and Euripides. It is remarkable, in 
how Ihort a fpace of time Tragedy grew up 
among the Greeks, from the rudeft beginnings 
to its mod perfe6): flate. For Sophodes, the 
greatefl and mod corre6i; of all the Tragic 
Poets, flourifhed only 22 years after i^EIichylus, 
and was little more than 70 years pofterior to 
Thefpis. 

From the account which I have now given, it 
appears that the Chorus was the bafis or founda- 
tion of the antient Tragedy. It was not an w- 
nament added to it ; or a contrivance defigned 
to render it more perfe6t ; but, in truth, the 
Dramatic Dialogue was an addition totheChorus, 
which was the original entertainment. In pro- 
cefs of time, the Chorus, from being the prin- '' 
cipal, became only the acceffory in Tragedy ; till 
at lail, in Modern Tragedy, it has di&ppeared 
altogether; which forms the chief diftindfcion 
between the Antient and the Modern Stage. 

This has given rife to a queftion much agi- 
tated between the partizans of the Antients and 

4 thQ 



TRAGEDY. ^y^ 

the Moderns, whether the Drama has gained, l E c T. 
or has fuflfered, by the abolition of the Chorus ? ^ ^^ 
It muft be admitted, that the Chorus tended tp 
render Tragedy both more magnificent and more 
infl:ru6live and moral. It was always the moft 
fublime and poetical part of the work ; and be- 
ing carried on by finging, and accompanied with 
mufic, it muft, no doubt, have diveriiiied tlie 
Entertainment greatly, and added to its fplen- 
dour. The Chorus, at the fame time, conveyed 
conftant leffons of virtue. It was compofed of 
fuch perfons as might moft naturally be fuppofed 
prefent on the occafion ; inhabitants of the place 
where the fcene was laid, often the companion? 
of fome of the principal a6lors, and therefore, 
in fome degree, interefted in the iffue of the 
a6lion. This company, which, in the days of 
Sophocles, was reftridled to the number of fifteen 
perfons, was conftantly on the Stage^ during the 
whole performance, mingled in difcourie with 
the aftors, entered into their concerns, fuggefted 
council and advice to them, mpralifed on all 
the incidents that were going on, and during 
the intervals of the adlion, fung their Odes, 
or Songs, in which they addreffed the Gods, 
prayed for fuccefa to the virtuous, laoiented 
their misfortunes, and delivered many religious 
and moral fentiments*^ 

But, 

* The oflSce of the ChoiUs is thus defcribed by Horace ; 

Aftoris partes Chorus, ofSciumque virile 
Defendat ; neu quid medios intercinat adus. 
Quod non propofito conducat, et haereat apt^ 

T 3 IDfe 



2^8 TRAGEDY. 

L E c T. But, notwithftanding the advantages which 
^^^' were obtained by means of the Chorus, the in- 
conveniences on the other fide are fo great, as 
to render the modern pra6lice of excluding the 
Chorus far more eligible upon the whole. For 
if a natural and probable imitation of human 
a6lions be the chief end of the Drama, no other 
perfons ought to be brought on the Stage, than 
thofe who are neceflary to the Dramatic a6lion. 
The intfodu6lion of an adventitious company of 
perfons, wh6 have but a flight concern in the 
bufinefs of the I^ay, is unnatural in itfelf^ em- 
barrafling to the Poet, and, though it may ren- 
der the fpe6lacle fplendid, tends, undoubtedly, 



lUe bonis faveatque, et concilietur amicis, 
Et regat iratos, et amet peccare timentes : 
lUe dapes laudet menfae brevis ; ille falubrem 
Juftitiam, legefque, Sc apertis otia portis. 
Ille tegat commifla ; deofque precetur, et oret 
Ut redeat miferi?, abeat fortuna fuperbis. 

Pe Art. Poet. 193, 

The Chorus muft fupport an aftor^s part. 
Defend the virtuous, and advife with art ; 
Govern the choleric, and the proud appeafe. 
And the fhort feafts of frugal tables praife j 
Applaud the juftice of well-governed ilates. 
And peace triumphant with her open gates« 
Intnifted fecrets let them ne^er betray, 
But to the righteous Gods with ardour pray. 
That fortune, with returning fmiles, may bleCi 
AiHi6ied worth, and impious pride deprefs t 
Yet let their fongs with apt coherence join, 
PrQipote the plot, and aid the juft defign. 



TRAGEDY. 279 

to render it more cold and uninterefting, becaufe L E c T. 
more unlike a real tranfa6lion. The mixture of , ^^^* 
Mufic, or Song, on the part of the Chorus, 
with the Dialogue carried on by the Aftors, is 
another unnatural circumftance, removing the 
reprefentation ftill farther from the refemblajice 
of life. The Poet, befides, is fubje6led to in- 
numerable difficidties in fo contriving his plan, 
that the prefence of the Chorus, during all the 
incidents of the Play, Ihall confift with any pro- 
babihty. The fcene mud be conftantly, and 
often abfurdly, laid in fome public place, that 
the Chorus may be fuppofed to have free accefs 
to it. To many things that ought to be tranC- 
acted in private, the Chorus mufl ever be wit- 
nefles ; they mull be the confederates of both 
parties, who come fucceffively upon the Stage, 
and who are, perhaps, confpiring againll each 
other. In fliort, the management of a Chorus 
is an unnatural confinement to a Poet ; it re- 
quires too great a facrifice of probability in the 
condu6l of the aftion ; it has too much the air / 
of a theatrical decoration, to be confiftent with/ 
that appearance of reality, which a Poet muft 
ever preferve in order to move our Paffions.J 
The origin of Tragedy among the Greeks, we 
have feen, was a choral Song, or Hymn to the 
Gods. There is no wonder, therefore, that on 
the Greek Stage it fo long maintained poflefflon. 
But it may confidently, I think, be afferted, 
that if, inftead of the Dramatic Dialogue having* 
been fuperadded to the Chorus, the Dialogue 
itfelf had been the firll invention, the Chorus 

T 4 would. 



jt8o TRAGEDY. 

L £ c T. would, in that cafe, never have been thought 
xt^v. of. 

One ufe, I am of opinion, might ftill be made 
pf the Antient Chorus, and would be a con& 
derable improvement of the Modem Theatre } 
if, inilead of that unmeaning, and often impro** 
perly chofen Mufic, with which the Audience is 
entertained in the intervals between the A6ls, a 
Chorus were then to be introduced, whofe Mufic 
and Songs, though forming no part of the Play, 
ihould have a relation to the incidents of the 
preceding a6l, and to the difpofitions which thofe 
incidents are prefumed to have awakened in the 
Spe6lators, By this means, the tone of paffion 
would be kept up without interruption ; and all 
the good effe&s of the antient Chorus might be 
preferved, for infpiring proper fentiments, and 
for increafing the morality of the Performance, 
without thofe inconveniences which arofe from 
the Chorus forming a conftituent part of the 
J^lay, and mingling unfeafonably, and unna* 
turally, with the perfonages of the Drama. 

After the view which we have taken of the 
rife of Tragedy, and of the nature of the Antient 
Chorus, with the advantages and inconveniences 
attending it, our way is cleared for examining, 
with more advantage, the three Unities of Action, 
Place, and Time, which have generally been con- 
fidered as effential to the proper condu^ pf the 
Pramatic Fable. 



Op 



TRAGEDY, agl 

Of thefe three, the firft. Unity of A6lion, is, L E c T. 
beyond doubt, far the moil important* In , ^^v* 
treating of Epic Poetry, I have already ex- 
plained the nature of it; as confifting in a 
relation which all the incidents introduced 
bear to fome defign or effe6l, fo as to combine 
naturally into one whole. This unity of fubje6l 
is ftill more effential to Tragedy, than it is to 
Epic Poetry. For a multiplicity of Plots, or 
A6lions, crowded into fo Ihort a fpace as Tra- 
gedy allows, muft, of neceOity, diftradl the 
attention, and prevent paffion from rifing to 
any height. Nothing, therefore, is worfe con- 
du6t in a Tragic Poet, than to carry on two 
independent a6lions in the fame Play ; the 
effect of which is, that the mind being full 
pended and divided between them, cannot give 
itfelf up entirely either to the one or the other. 
There may, indeed, be underplots ; that is, tha 
perfons introduced, may have different purfuits 
and defigns j but the Poet's art muft be fliown 
in managing thefe, fo as to render them fubfer- 
vient to the main a6lion. They ought to be 
conne6ted with the cataftrophe of the Play, and 
to confpire in bringing it forward. If there be 
any intrigue which ftands feparate and indent 
pendent, and which may be left out without 
affedling the unravelling of the Plot, we may 
always conclude this to be a faulty violation of 
Unity. Such Epifodes are not permitted bere,^ 
as in Epic Poetry, 



^fs TZACEDT. 




vitii mibdi dignitr. Bo: aH tie kri~e icenes h 
the Flar; the psL^ioa of Caio's rwo ^biLi icr 
liicia, and ihar of Joba for Carols liangater, 
are mere Epiibde^; have no conne^ioa with 
the ptincipQl a<iioQ, and no el^ci opoa il 
The Author thou^t his fiibjei^ too barren ia 
huridents, and in <M'der to di%~erfify it, he faa:? 
given us, as it were, b v the bve, a hiftory oi 
the amours that were going on in Cato's familv; 
bv which he hath both broken the uiiitv oi his 
fiibjed, and formed a very unlealonabie jun&ion 
of gallantry, with the high ieatiments, and 
publiofpirited paffiocs which predominate in 
other parts, and which the Piay was chiefly 
de6gned to diiplay. 

We mnft take care not to confound the Unity 
o£ the Adion with the Simplicity of the Plot. 
Unity, and Simplicity import different things in 
Dramatic compoiition. Tlie plot is (kid to be 
Simple, when a fmali number of incidents are 
introduced into it. But it may be implex, as 
the Critics term it, that is, it may include a 
confiderable number of perfons and events, and 
yet not be deficient in Unity ; provided all the 
incidents be made to tend towards the principal 
object of the Play, and be properly connected 
with it. All the Greek Tragedies not only 
jnaintaiu Unity in the A6tion, but are remark- 
ably 



TRAGEDY. 283 

ably fimple in the Plot ; to fuch a degree, in- l E c T. 
deed, as fometimes to appear to us too naked, ^ ^Xl 
and deilitute of interefting events. In the 
QEdipus Coloneus, for inftance, of Sophocles, 
the whole fubjedl is no more than this: CEdipus, 
blind and miferable, wanders to Athens, and 
wiflies to die there ; Creon and his fon Poly- 
nices, arrive at the fame time, and endeavour, 
feparately, to perfuade the old man to return 
to Thebes, each with a view to his own intereftj 
he will not go ; Thefeus, the King of Athens, 
prote6ls him j and the Play ends with his death* 
In the Philo6letes of the fame Author, the Plot, 
or Fable, is nothing more than Ulyffes, and the 
fon of Achilles, ftudying to perfuade the difeaied 
Philodletes to leave his uninhabited ifland, and 
go with them to Troy ; which he refufes to do, 
till Hercules, whofe arrows he poffeffed, defcends 
from Heaven and commands him. Yetthefe fira- 
pie, and feemingly barren fubje6ls, are wrought 
up with fo much art by Sophocles, as to become 
very tender and afFe6ling. 

Among the Moderns, much greater variety of 
events has been admitted into Tragedy. It has 
become more the theatre of paffion than it was 
among the Antients. . A greater difplay of cha- 
ra6ters is attempted ; more intrigue and a6tion 
are carried on ; our curiofity is more awakened, 
and more interefting fituations arife. This 
variety is, upon the whole, an improvement on 
Tragedy J it renders the entertainment both 
more animated and more inftru^tive ; and when 

kept 



9l4 TKAGEDT. 

LE CT. kept withm due bounds, majrbe perfeaij coo- 
,^|;][;^iiftentwhh unity of fu^^ But the Poet moft, 

at the fame time, beware of not deriatiiig too 
&T Cram fimplicity in the conftradion of his 
Fable. For if he over-charges it with a&ion and 
mtrigoe, it becomes perplexed and embairafled; 
and, bj confequence, lofes much of its eSkGL 
Coogreve's ^ Mourning Bride," a Tragedy 
otherwife &r from being void of merit, fiuls in 
this reiped ; and may be given as aa inftance 
of one ftanding in perfeft oppofition to the 
fimj^icitj of the antient Hots. The incidents 
fhcceed one another too n^iidlj. The Flay is 
too full of bufineis. It is difficult for the mind 
to follow and comprehend the whole ieries of 
events ; and, what is the greateft fault of all, 
the cataftrophe, which ought always to be plain 
and fimple, is brought about in a manner too 
artificial and intricate, 

Ukitt of A3ion mufl not onlv be fludied in 
the general conftru6tion of the Fable, or Hot, 
but mufl regulate the feveral adis and fcenes, 
into which the Play is divided. 

The divifion of every Play, into five ads, has 
no other foundation than common praSice, and 
the authority of Horace : 

Neve minor, neu fit qninto produdior ada 

Fabula. D5 Arte Poet.* 



♦ If you would have your Hay deferve fuccefs, 
GiiFC it Five Afts complete, nor more, nor kfs» Francis. 

It 



TRAGEDY. ^85 

It id a divifion purely arbitrary. Thert is nothing l E d H 
in the nature of the Gompofitibn which fixes ^ ^^ 
this number rather than inj other ; and it had 
been much better if no fuch number had been 
afcertained, but every Play had been allowed to 
divide itfelf into as many parts^ or intervals, as 
the fubje^ naturally pointed out* On the Greek 
Stage, whatever may have been the cafe on the 
Roman, the divifion by A6ls was totally, un- 
known. The word, ;A6l, never once occurs in 
Ariilotle's Poetics, in which he defines exa&l^ 
every part of the Drama, and divides it into 
the beginning, the middle, and the end; or, in 
his own words, into the Prologue, the Epifode^ 
and the Exode. The Greek Tragedy was*, in- 
deed, one continued^ reprefentation, from be* 
ginning to end. The Stage was never empty, 
nor the curtain let fall. But at certain intervals, 
when the A6lors retired, the Chorus continued 
and fung^ Neither do thefe Songs of the Chorus 
divide the Greek Tragedies into five portions, 
fimilar to our Adis ; ^ough fome of the Com^ 
mentators have endeavoured to force them into 
this oflSce*. But it is plain, that the intervals at 
which the Chorus fung, are extremely unequsd 
and in*^ular, fuited to the occafion and the 
fubjed): ; and would divide the Play fbmetimes 
into three, fometimes intofeven or eight A&,s*. 

As practice has now efiablilhed a different 
plan on the Modern Stage, has divided every^ 

* See the Diflertation prefixed to Franklin's Tranflation of 
Sophocles. 

Play 



5t86 TRAGEDY. 

I« £ c T. Play into Five A^s, and made a total paufe in 
^^^* the reprefentation at the end of each A61, the 
Poet mufl be careful that this paufe fhall fall in 
a proper place ; where there is a natural paufe 
in the A6tion, and where, if the imagination has 
any thing to fupply, that is not reprefented on 
the Stage, it may be fuppofed to have been tranf- 
a£i;ed during the interval. 

The Firft A6k ought to contain a clear expo- 
fition of the fubje6t. It ought to be fo managed 
as to awaken the curiofity of the Spectators ; and 
at the fame time to furnifh them with materials 
for underftanding the fequeL It ihould make 
them acquainted with the perfonages who are to 
appear, with their fever^l views and interefts, 
and with the iituation of af&irs at the time when 
the Play commences. A ftriking Introduction, 
fuch as the firft fpeech of Almeria, in the Mourn- 
ing Bride, and that of Lady Randolph, in 
Douglas, produces a happy efFedl : but this is 
w^hat the fubjeCt will not always admit. In 
the ruder times of Dramatic Writing, the expo- 
fition of the fubje6t was wont to be made by a 
Prologue, or by a fingle A6lor appearing, and 
giving full and direct information to the Specta- 
tors. Sottie of ^fchylus*s and Euripides's Plays 
are opened in this manner. But fuch an intro- 
duction is extremely inartificial, and therefore is 
now totally abolifhed, and the fubjeCt made to 
open itfelf by converfation, among the firft 
ACtors who are brought upon the Stage* 

DuniNG 



tragedy; tSf 

DuRiNo the courfe of the Drama, in the Se- L E c T, 
cond, Third, and Fourth Afts, the Plot fliould ^"^ 
gradually thicken. The great obje6l which the 
Poet ought here to have in view, is, by intereft- 
ing us in his ftory, to keep our pafiions always 
awake. As foon as he allows us to languiih, 
there is no more tragic merit. He ihould, there- 
fore, introduce no perfonages but fuch as are 
neceffary for carrying on the a6tion. He ihould 
contrive to place thofe whom he finds it proper 
to introduce, in the moft interefting fituations. 
He fhould have no fcenes of idle converfation or 
mere declamation. The A6lion of the Play ought 
to be always advancing, and as it advances, the 
fufpenfe, and the concern of the Spedlators, to 
be raifed more and more. This is the great ex- 
cellency of Shakefpeare, that his fcenes are full 
of Sentiment and Action, never of mere difi 
courfe ; whereas, it is often a fault of the beft 
French Tragedians, that they allow the Action 
to languilh for the fake of a long and artful 
Dialogue. Sentiment, PalBon, Pity, and Terror, 
fliould reign throughout a Tragedy. Every 
thing fliould be full of movements. An ufelefi 
incident, or an unneceflary converfation, weakens 
the intereft which we take in the Aftion, and 
renders us cold and inattentive. 

The Fifth A61 is the feat of the Cataflrophe, 
or the unravelling of the Plot, in which we al* 
ways expe6l the art and genius of the Poet to be 
mod fully difplayed. The firft rule concerning 
it, is, that it be brought about by probable and 

natural 



a88 TRAGEDY, 

L E c x» natural meana* Hence all unravellings which 
^^' , turn upoii ^i%uifed habits, rencounters by night, 
miilakes of one peribn for another, and other 
fuch Theatrical and Romantic cjurcumflances, 
are to be condemned as faulty. In the next 
place, the Cataftrophe ought always to be fimple ; 
to depend on feW events, and to include but few 
perfaus, Paffion never rifes fo high when it is 
divided among many obje6ls, as when it is 
dire&ed towards one or a few. And it is ftiU 
more checked, if the incidents be fo complex 
and intricate, that the underilanding is put on 
the ftretch to trace them, when the heart Ihould 
be wholly delivered up to emotion* The Cata* 
ftrophe of the Mourning Bride, as I formerly 
hinted, offends againft both thefe rules. In the 
laft place,/the Cataftrophe of a Tragedy ought to 
be the reign of pure fentiment and paflion. In 
proportion as it approaches, every thing ihould 
warm and glow./ No long difcourfes ; no cold 
reafonings ; no parade of genius, in the midft of 
thofe &lemn and awful events, that cloie fome 
of the great revolutions of human fortune. 
There, if any where, the Poet mull be fimple, 
ferious, pathetic; and ipeak no language but 
that of nature. 

The Antients were fond of unravellings, which 
turned upon what is called, an '* Anagnorifis," 
or a difcovery of fome perfon to be different from 
what he was taken to be. When fuch difcoveries 
are artfully condu6ted, and produced in critical 
fituations, they are extremely ftriking ? Such as 

that 



TRAQ^DY. 280 

jtl^tj fapqu^ Q^e ;in JSopbQfjlles, which jnakes the i^ B c T. 
liK^qle fUW;^?5l ,pf his CEiiRus Tyrannus, and ^^^' 
A^}^i(ih is, ^undoubtedly, ^the iuU^ft of fufpenfe, 
agitation, ^pd. terxpr, thq.t ever was e5i:hibited on 
any St^ge^ 4•ff|o^g the JVtoderpSj^ two of thie 
moll diftipguifeed ^^nagnprifeSj pe thofe con- 
tained in Voltaire's J^)erope and Mr. Home's 
Douglas : .both of whijch 9xe great mg^ller-pieces 
pf the kind, 

/Ixisnotefleptialto thecataftrophe of a Tra- 

go^y^ |:^at .it,jflipuld end uphappily. In the 

.9,oarfe of the Play there may be fumcient agi- 

Pi^t-son and diilrefs, and many tender enxotions 

^f^ifed ]^. the bufferings ^nd.dange of the vir- 

tuqusythough, in the end, good men are ren- 

. dered fuccefsful. The Tragic, fpirit, therefore, 

does not want fcope upon this fyftem ; and ac- 

, cordjngly, , the Athalie of Racine, and fome of 

Voltaire's finell Plays, fuch as Alzire, Merope, 

^nd thjB.prphan of China, with fome few Englifli 

Tragedies, likewife, have a fortunate qoncluiion. 

But, in general, the fpirit of Trp.gedy, elpecially 

of Englifli Trag.edy, leans more to the fide of 

leaving the inipreffion of virtuous forrow full and 

. ilrong upon the heart. 

A auEsxroN, intimately conne6led with this 
fubje^bjfltndwhjicb hag; employed the fpeculations 

» of feveral philofophical Critics, naturally occurs 
here : How it comes to pafs that thofe emotions 
of jfprrow which Tragedy excites, afford any 
gratification to the mind? For, is not forrow, 

, . yoL. }iu u in 



,3^( 



296 tragedv. 

L £ c T. in its nature, a painful paifion ? Is no£ real dif* 
^* trefs often occafioned to the Spefilators, by the 
Dramatic Reprefentations at which they affill ? 
Do we not fee their tears flow ? and yet, while 
the impreffion of what they have fuffered re- 
mains upon their minds, they again aflemble in 
crowds, to renew the fame diftfefles. The quet 
tion is not without difficulty, and various folu- 
tions of it have been propofed by ingenious 
men *. The moft plain and fatisfafilory account 
of the matter, appears to me to be the following. 
/By the wife and gracious conilitution of oUr 
nature, the exercife of all the focial paflions 
is attended with pleafure. Nothing is more 
pleafing and grateful, than love and friendlhip* 
Wherever man takes a ftrong intereft in the con- 
cerns of his fellow creatures, an internal fatisfac- 
tiott is made to accompany the feeling. Pity, or 
eompaflion, in particular, is, for wife ends, ap- 
pointed to be one of the ftrongeft in(lin6ts of 
our frame, and is attended with a peculiar at- 
tractive power. It is an afFe6tion which cannot 
but be produ6live of fome diftrefs, on account 
of the fympathy with the fufferers, which it ne- 
ceflarily involves. But, as it includes benevo- 
lence and friendfhip, it partakes, at the fame 



^ See Dn Campbell^s PhSofopfay of Rhetoric, Book I, ch. iL 
where an account i8 given of the hypothefes of different Cridci 
on this fubjedl ; and where pne is propofed, with which, in the 
main, I agree.—- See alfo Lord Kaimes's Effayg on the. Prmci« 
pies of Morality, Eflay I. And Mr. Darid Hume's Eflky on 
Tragedy. " 

time^ 



TRAGEDY. 291 

time, of the agreeable and pleafing nature of L EC T. 
thofe afFe6tions. The heart is warmed by kind- ^^^* 
nefs and humanity, at the fame moment at which 
it is afflidled by the diftreifes of thofe with whom 
it fympathifes : and the pleafure arifing from 
thofe kind emotions, prevails fo much in the 
mixture, and fo far counterbalances the pain, as 
to render the ftate of the mind, upon the whole, 
agreeable. /Kt the fame time, the iifimediate 
pleafure, which always goes along with the ope- 
ration of the benevolent and iympathetic affec- 
tions, derives an addition from the approbation 
of our own minds. We are pleafed with our- 
felves for feeling as we ought, and for entering, 
with proper forrow, into the concerns of the 
affli6ted.;t^ In Tragedy, befides, other adventi- 
tious circumilances concur to diminifh the pain- 
ful part of Sympathy, and to increafe the fatis- 
fadtion attending it. We are, in fome meafure, 
relieved, by thinking that the caufe of our dif- 
trefs is feigned, not real ; and we are alfo gra- 
tified by the charms of Poetry, the propriety of 
Sentiment and Language, and the beauty of 
A6tion. From the concurrence of thefe caufes, 
the pleafure which we receive from Tragedy, 
notwithflanding the diflre& it occafions, feems 
to me to be accounted for in a latisfadlory man- 
ner. At the fame time, it is to be obferved, that, 
as there is always a mixture of pain in the plea- 
lure, that pain is capable of being fo much 
heightened, by the reprefentation of incidents 
extremely direful, as to fhock our feelings, and 
to render us averfe, either to the reading of fuch 

u 2^ Tragedies, 



292 



TRAGEDY. 



L E c T. Tragedies^ or to the beholding of them upon the 
^^- Stage. 

Having now fpoken of the condu6l of the 
fubje6t throughout the A6ls^ it is 'alfo neceffary 
to take notice of the condu6l of the feveral 
Scenes which tn^ke up the A^s of a Play. 

TriE entrance of a new perfoiiage upon the 
Stage, forms, what is called, a New Scene, Thefe 
Scenes, or fucceltive converfations, fliould be 
clofely linked and coilne6led with each other.; 
and much of the Art of Dramatic Compofition 
is ihowh in maintaining this connection. Two 
rules are neceffary to be obferved for this pur- 
pofe. 

'The firft is, that, during the courfe of one Afl:, 
the Stage Ihould never be left vacant, though 
but for a fingle moment ; that is, all thb perfons 
who have appeared in one Scene, or converfa- 
tion, fliould never go off together, and be fiic- 
ceeded by a new fet of perfons appearing in the 
^ next Scene, independent of the former. This 
makes a gap, or total interruption in th^ repre- 
fentation, which, in effect, puts an end to that 
A61. For whenever the Stage is evacuated, the 
Aft is clofed. This rule is, very generally, ob- 
ferved by the French Tragedians ; but the Eng- 
lifli Writers, both of Comedy and Tragedy, fel- 
dom pay any regard to it* Their perfonages 
fucceed one another upon^the Stage with £0 little 
' conneS;ion; the union of their Scenes is & much 

broken, 



TRAGEDY- 



?93 



broken^ that, with equal propriety, their Plays i. E c t, 
might be divided into ten or twelve A6ls as into ^^^* 
five. 

I 

Th;e feqpn^ rule, which the En^lifti Writer^ 
di&) obJT^rve littlp better than the former, is, that 
X\o Jjejrfon Iball come upon the Stage, or leave it, 
without a reafon appearing tp us, both for the 
one and the either. Nothing is more awkward, 
^nd contrary to art, than for an A^or to enter, 
without Qi^y fteing any caufe for his appearing 
in that Scepe, except that it w^s for the Poet*? 
purpofe he Ihould enter precifely at fuch a mo- 
ment J or for an Aftor to go away without any 
ifqafpn for his retiring j farther than that the 
J\)et had no rppre Speeches to put into hi^ 
iTiquth, This is n^apagiflg the Perfon^ t>ra- 
in^tia exa^ly like fo ippjOy puppets, who are 
moved by wires, to anfwer the c£).ll of the mafter 
of the fhpw. Whereas the perfection of pra- 
jnatic Writing requires that every thing fhould 
be conducted in iinitation, asnear asppflible, of 
Jbipe r^al tranfaClion ; where we are let into the 

ijeprejb of all that is paffing; where w^ behold 
perfppsb^fqrqusalways.bufy J fee them coining 

^jid going ; and ^now perfeClJy whence they 

Cppie and Avbither they go, and about what they 

are 




• . ■ • • ■ • J. 

Af-J^ that I have hitherto faid, relates tP the 
tjpity pf the Pramatic AClion, In order to 
render the Unity of A6lion more complete, 
Critics have added the other two Unities of 
, u 3 Time 



294 TRAGEDY. 

L E c T. Time and Place, The ftrift obfervance of thefe 
^^' , is more difiScult, and, perhaps, not fo neceflary. 
The Unity of Place requires, that the Scene 
fliould never be fhifted ; butthattheA6lionofthe 
play fhould be continued to the end, in the fame 
place where it is fuppofed to begin. The Unity 
of Time, ftri6lly taken, requires, that the time 
of the A6lion be no longer than the time that is 
allowed for the Reprefentation of the Play ; 
though Ariflotle feems to have given the Poet a 
little more liberty and permitted the a£fcion to 
comprehend the whole time of one day. 

The intention of both thefe rules is, to over- 
charge, as little as poffible, the imagination of 
the Speftators with improbable circumftances in 
the a6ling of the Play, and to bring the imita- 
tion more clofe to reality. We muft obferve, 
that the nature of Dramatic Exhibitions upon 
the Greek Stage, fubje6led the Antient Trage- 
dians to a more ftrift Obfervance (rf thefe Unities 
than is neceffary in Modern Theatres. I ihewed, 
that a Greek Tragedy was one uninterrupted 
reprefentation, from beginning to end. TTiere 
was no divifion of A6ls ; no paufes or interval 
between them ; but the Stage was continually 
full; occupied either by the A6lors, or the 
Chorus. Hence, no room was left for the ima- 
gination to go beyond the precife time and place 
of the reprefentation ; anymore than is allowed 
during the continuance of one Aft, on the Mo- 
dern Theatre. 



But 



TRAGEDY.^ ^g^ 

But the pra6lice of fufpending the ipedlacle L E c T. 
totally for feme little time between the A6ts, has ^^^* 
made a great and material change ; gives more 
latitude to the imagination, and renders the an- 
tient ilri6t confinement to time and place lefs 
neceffary. While the afiling of the Play is in- 
terrupted, the Spe6lator can, without any great 
or violent effort, fuppofe a few hours to pafs be- 
tween every a6l ; or can fuppofe himfelf moved 
from one apartment of a palace, or one part of a 
city to another : and, therefore, too flri6i; an ob- 
fery'ance of thefe Unities ought not to be pre- 
ferred to higher beauties of execution, nor to the 
introduction of more pathetic fituations, which 
ibmetimes cannot be accompliihed in any other 
way, than by the tranlgreffion of thefe rides. 

On the Antient Stage, we plainly fee the Poets 
flruggling with many an inconvenience, in order 
to preferve thofe Unities which were then fo ne- 
ceffary. As the Scene could never be ihifted, 
they were obliged to make it always lie in fome 
court of a palace, or fome public area, to which 
all the perfons concerned in the action might 
have equal accefs. This led to frequent impro- 
babilities, by reprefenting things as tranfa6led 
there, which naturally ought to hav^ been tranfl 
a€ted before few witneffes, and in private apart- 
ments. The like improbabilities arofe, from 
limiting themfelves fo much in point of time. 
Incidents were unnaturally crowded ; and it is 
eaiy to point out feveral inflances in the Greek 
Tragedies^ where events are fuppofed to pafs 

u 4 during 



^g6 TRAGEDY. 

t E c T. during a Song of the Chorus, which nnuft necef- 
^^'^ farily have employed many hours. ' 

But though it feems neceflary to fet Mddcrri 
Poets free from a ftri6l obfervance of thefe Dra- 
riiatic Unities, yet we muft remember there are 
ceftairi boundis to this liberty. Frequent and 
wild changes of time and place ; hurrying the 
Spectator from one diftaht city, or country to an^ 
other ; or mating feveral days or weeks to pafs 
during the coiirfe 6f the Repr^fentation, ai^ 
liberties which fhock the imagination, which 
give to the performance ^ romantic aiid unna^ 
tural appearance, arid, therefore, catitiot be al- 
lowed in any Dramatic Writer, who afpifes to 
correStilefs. In particular, we rnuft rfetrieraber, 
that it is only between the A6ts, that any liberty 
call he given for going beyond the Urih:i^ of 
Tinie and Place. During the courfe- of eatch 
A61, they ought to be ftri(?lly obferved ; that is; 
during each A6t the Scene fhould continue the 
fame, and no more timfe fliould be fuppofed to 
pafs, than is ettip1oy6d in the reprefentation of 
that aft. This is a rule which the French Tra- 
gedians regularly obferve. To violate this rule, 
as is too often done by the Englifh ; to cHahge 
the Place, and fhift the Scene, in tlie midft df 
one A61:, (hews grieatincorre6lnefs,'and deftroys 
the whole intention of the divifion of a Play into 
A6ls. Mr. Addifon*s Cato is remarkable, be- 
yond moft Englifh H-agedie's; for Wglilarity of 
coridua. Thie Author has limited himfelf, in 
titnd, to a finglfe day j and in place, hkd main- 

1 5 tained 



TRAGEDY. i^f 

Rifled the mdft rigorous Unity. The Scene is L ect.: 
nfever chanfged ; and the whole action paffes in 
the haiFl of Cato*s hoiife, at Utica. 

In general, the nearer a Poet can bring the 
Dramatic Reprefentation, in all its circum- 
llances, to an imitation of nature and real life, 
the impreflion which he makes on us will always 
be the more perfe6l. Probability, as I obferved 
at the beginning of the le6lure, is highly effen- 
tial to the conduct of the Tragic A6lion, and 
we are always hurt by the want of it. It is this 
that makes the obfervance of the Dramatic 
Unities to be of confequence, as far as they can 
be obferved, without facrificing more material 
beauties. /It is not, as has been fometimes faid, 
that by the prefervation of the Unities of Time 
and Place, Spe6lators are deceived into a belief 
of the reality of the objects which are fet before 
them on the Stage ; and that, when thofe Unities 
are violated, the charm is broken, and they dif- 
cover the whole to be a fifilion. No fuch decep- 
tion as this can ever be accompliflied. No one 
ever imagines himfelf to be at Athens, or Rome, 
when a Greek or Roman fiibje6l is prefentedon 
the Stage. He knows the whole to be an imita- 
tion only : but he requires that imitation to be 
condu6led with ikill and verifimilitude. His 
pleafure, the entertainment which he expe6ls, 
the intereft which he is to take in the Story, all 
depend on its being fo condtt6led. His imagi- 
nation, therefore, feeks to aid the imitation, and 
to reft on the probability j and the Poet, who 

ihock^ 



298 TRAGEDY. 

L £ c T. fliocks him by improbable circumftances, «nd 
^^^' by awkward, unfkilful imitation, deprives him of 
his pleafure, and leaves him hurt and d^fpleaf^d* 
This is the whole myftery of the theatrical 
illufion. 



^— pi 



LECTURE XLVL 



TRAGEDY GREEK— FRENCH— ENGLISH 

TRAGEDY. 

TTAViNG treated of the Dramatic A6lion in l E C T» 
Tragedy, I proceed next to treat of the ^ ^^ ^ 
Charadlers moft proper to be exhibited. It has 
been thought, by feveral Critics, that the nap 
ture of Tragedy requires the principal perfon- 
ages to be always of illuftrious chara3:er, and of 
high or princely rank ; whofe misfortunes and 
fufferings, it is faid, take fafter hold of the 
imagination, and imprefs the heart more forci- 
bly than fimilar events, happening to perfons in 
private life. But this is more fpecious than 
folid. /It is refuted by fa6ls. For the diftrefles 
of Defdemona, Monimia, and Belvidera, inte- 
reft us as deeply as if they had been princefles 
or queens. The dignity of Tragedy does, in- 
deed, require, that there ihould be nothing 
degrading or mean, in the circumftances of the 
perfons which it exhibits ; but it requires no- 
thing more. Their high rank may render the 

fpefitade 



!• U 



• »* ••< 



300 TRAGEDY. 

L E c T. IJieftacle more fplendid, and the ftibje6k fee»- 
^^^* ingly of more importance, but conduces very 
little to its being interefting or pathetic^ which 
depends entirely on the nature of the Tale, on 
the art of the Poet in condu6ting it, and on the 
fentiments to which it gives occafion. In every 
rank of life, the relatioiia of FalJier, . Hufband, 
Son, Brother, Lover, or Friend, lay the foun- 
dation of thofe affe6ling fituations, which make 
man's heart feel for man. 



The moral chara6lers of the perfons repre- 
liht^j'afe of much greater cdnfequenice tJian 
the external circumftances in which the Poet 
places them. Nothing, indeed, in the condu6l 
pf Tragedy, de^^^^ds a Port's attention more, 
than, fo to defcribe hi§ p^rfon^ges^ and To t^ 
order the incidents which relate to th^m^, as 
Ih^l leave yppn the Spectators, imprpffions fa- 
vourable to virtue, and tp the adminiflration of 
' jP^i^Qvidence. It is npt neqeffary, for this end, 
that po^ticijil ^uftipe, as it is called, Ihpuld be 
obferved in the cataftrpphe of the Pi^ce. This 
]bas l]ie^n long exploded frpw T^a^^dy ; the end 

\ pfiyhicliis, to affe^ us with pity ifpr the yir- 
tupus in diftrefs, and tP affpra a probable re- 
prefentatioq pf the ftate pf human lif^^ w^iere 
ipalam^fies often befal the b^fl:, aiiid a n^i^e^ por- 
tion of ^ood and evil is apppinteii for all. But;> 
mtk^lp the AAtbor muft bew^^re pf ihoqlcing 0^: 
jpini^? :With ^^^h risprpfentatip^^ pf lifg ^s' tm^ 
to r^yfc horror^ ov to ren4pr virtue an obje;^ pif 
Sff^^^fh Tl^ouf h inupcent gef fons fu;ffer, ]tit>eir 
o!-.frr.- fufferings 



TRAGEDY; ,3<ki 

ftifferifigs fought to be attended With Aich cir- L E 0*5, 
<^timftancies, as. ihdll make virtue appear amiable , ^^*^ 
and venerable j and Ihall render thdir condition^ 
on the whole^ preferable to thdt of bad men, 
who have' prevailed againft them. The ftings, 
and therembrfe of guilty inuft ever be repre- 
fented as produ^ive of greater mi&ries, than 
any that the bad can bring upon the good. 

Auii^TOTLR's 6bfervati<ins on the chara6lers 
'ptx^er for Tragedy, are very judicious. He is 
«f opinion, : that perfect unmixed charaS:ers^ 
either of good or ill men, are not the fitteft to 
be inti'odttced. The diftrefles of the one being 
\i^holly unmeiited, hurt and ihock us; and the 
fWferings of the other QC(iafion no pity» Mixe4 
chara6lers, fuch as in fa6l we meet with in the 
World, afford the moft projper 'field for dilplaying, 
without any bad effe6l on morals, the viciffitudes 
of life ; and they intereft us the more deeply^ 9^ 
they difplay emotions and paffions which we 
have all been confcious of. When fuch perfons 
fall into dift refs through the vices of others, the 
.fubjc6t may be very pathetic; but it is always 
more inftru6live, when a perfon has been him- 
felf the caufe of his misfortune, and when his 
misfortune is occafioned by the violence of paP 
fibn^ or by fome weaknefs incident to humlan 
nature. Such fubje6ls both difpofe us to the 
deepeit fympathy, and adminifter ufeful warQ« 
ings to us for our own condu61:. 

Upon 



3oa 



TRAGEDT. 



lECl*. Umn thefepmdples^itibqirifesmetiiatibe 
^^^ ftory of OEdipus ihould have been fo mudi cde» 
brated by all the Critics, as one of the fitteft 
fubjefls for Tragedy; and to often brought 
upon the Stage, not by Sophocles only, but by 
Comeille alfo, and Voltaire. An innocent per- 
ibn, one, in the main, of a virtuous chanifter, 
through no crime of his own, nay not by the 
vices of others, but through mere fatality and 
blind chance, is involved in the greateft of all 
human miferies. In a cafual rencounter he kills 
bis father, without knowing him ; he afterwards 
is married to his own mother ; and difcovering 
bimfelf in the end to have committed both parri- 
cide and inceft, he becomes frantic, and dies in 
the utmoft mifery. Such a fubjeft excites hor« 
ror rather than pity. As it is conducted by 
Sophocles, it is indeed extremely affeftihg ; but 
it conveys no in(lru£tion ; it awakens in the 
mind no tender fympathy ; it leave&no imprei^ 
fion favourable to virtue or humanity. 

It muft be acknowledged, that the fubje£b 
of the antient Greek Tragedies were too often 
founded on mere defliny and inevitable misfor- 
tunes. They were too much mixed with their 
tales about oracles, and the vengeance of the 
Gods, which led to many an incident fufficiently 
melancholy and tragical ; but rather purely 
tragical, than ufeful or moral. Hence, both 
the (Edipus's of Sophocles, the Iphigenia in 
Aulis, the Hecuba of Euripides, and feveral of 
the like kind. In the courfe of the Drama, 

lo many 



*rkAG££>Y. 303 

Ihahy moral fentiments occurred. But the in- L £ c T. 
ftruaion, which the Fable of the Play conveyed, ^^• 
feldom was any more, than that reverence was 
owing to the Gods, and Aibmiffion due to the 
decrees of Deftiny. Modern Tragedy has 
aimed at a higher obje6t, by becoming more 
the theatre of paflion ; pointing out to men the 
confequences of their own mifcondu6l ; fhowing 
the direful efie£ts which ambition, jealouiy, 
love, refentment, and other fuch ilrong emo- 
tions, when mifguided, or left unreftrained, 
produce upon human life. An Othello, hurried 
by jealoufy to murder his innocent wife ; a 
Jaifier, enfhared by refentment and want, to 
engage in a confpiracy, and then flung with 
remorfe, and involved in ruin; a Sifiredi^ 
through the deceit which he employs for pub- 
lic-ipirited ends, bringing de(lru6tion on all 
whom he loved ; a Califla, feduced into a cri- 
minal intrigue, which overwhelms herfelf, her 
father, and all her friends in mifery ; thefe, and 
fuch as thefe, are the examples which Tragedy 
now diiplayB to public view ; and by means of 
which, it inculcates on men the proper govern- 
ment of their paflions. 

Op all the paffions which furnifli matter to 
Tragedy, that which has moft occupied the 
Modem Stage is Love. To the Antient Thea- 
tre, it was in a manner wholly unknown. In 
few of their Tragedies is it ever mentioned j and 
I remember no more than one which turns upon 
it, the Hippolitus of Euripides. This was owing 

to 



304 



TRAGJEPY- 



X B c T. to the national manners of the Gre^l^Pb . ^l^ tp 
^°^^' that greater reparation of the two /f^^es- ^ofn 
^ooe another, than has t^k^n . pl^^e 4p - |no4^^ 
times ; aided too, perh^psi by this citjCViinilApce, 
that no female a6lors ever appeared on the 
' Antient Stage. But though no re^on appe^irs 
'for the total exclufion of Love from the The- 
atre, yet with what juftice or prppyiety it has 
.ufiirped fo much place, as to he in , a; manner 
tibe fole hinge of Modern Tragedy, may ^>e 
.much queftioned. Voltaire, Vfho is no, lefs ^fnu 
joent as a Critic than as a Poet, declares loudly 
*and ftrongly againft this predominancy pf Ix)ve, 
«as both degrading the majefly, and coi;ifining 
^ the natural limits of Tragedy. And ai^iredly, 
the mixing of it perpetually >yith ; ,all the great 
-and folemn revolutions of human fortune which 
i belong to the Tragic Stage, tends to give Tra- 
gedy too much the air of gallantry^ and juvenile 
entertainment. The Athalie of Racine, the 
• Merope of Voltaire, the Dougla^.of Mr. Hpnae, 
are fufficient proofs, that without any affii^nce 
from Love, the Drama is capable of producing 
its'higheft efte6ts upon the mind. 

This feems to be clear, that wherever Love 
is introduced into Tragedy, it ought to reign in 
it, and to give rife to the principal aS:ion. It 
ought to be that fort of Love which pofieflesfdl 
the force and majefty of paffion j and which oc« 
. cafions great and important confequences. For 
nothing can have a worfe effe^> or be more 

.d$bafing 



debafing to Tragedy, than, together with the L E CT. 
njanljfifind heroic paffions, to mingle a trifling ^^^^' 
lov€( i^pt^igue, as a fort of feafoning to the Play. 
The. tad effects of this are liifficijBntly conlpi- 
cuQus ^oth in tibe Cato of Mr. Addifon, as I had 
occ£^fion before to remark, and in the Iphigenie 
of Racine. 

Aftj^R a Tragic Poet has arranged his fubjedl, 
and chofen his perfonages, the next thing he 
muft attend to, is the propriety of fentim^ts^ j 
that tlxey be.peiife6lly fuited to the charafters 
of thofe perfons to whom they are attributed, 
and to the.fitu^tipnsin \vhich they are placed. 
The neceflity f)f obferving this general rule is 
fo obvious, thjat I need not infill upon it^ It is 
principally in the pathetic parts, that both the 
difficulty and the importance of it are the 

. greateft. Tragedy.is the region of paflion. We 
come tp; it, expecting to be moved j and let 

, the Poet bp ever fo judicious in his conduft, 

. moral in his intentions, and elegant in his Style, 
yet if he fails in the pathetic, he has no tragic 
merit, we return cold and difappointed from 
the performance, and never defire to meet with 

. it more. 

To paint paflion fo truly and juftly as to fl^rike 
.;. the hearts of the hearers with full fympathy, is, 
J a. prerogative of genius given to few. It re- 
j quirei^ ftrong^and ardent fenfibility of mind. It 
J ^.requires the Author to have the power of en- 
;.^ /{VOL. ni. % tering 



.p6 T* AG EO Y. 

L t c T. imiig' deeply into ' -the cfaaraflers ihrhich he 
' v^r^'^ drawis ; of becoAiing for a moment ihe veiy 
perfon ^hom he exhibits, and of aflliniitig all 
his fe'elings. F6!r, as I have often had oeeafion 
to obferve, ^here * is tio ipoffibHity of 'ipeakiBg 
prc^etly the language bf ahy pa^on, witiiout 
feeling it ; and/U is to the abfence t>r deadnefs 
of real emotion, that we mud afcribe the want 
of fuccefs in fo many Tra^q Writfers, when 
they attempt being pathetic;/ 

' . ' ' . ■ ' 

No man, for inftant^e, when he 4s t^der the 

ftrong agitatioiis of anger or gtief, or any fu<5h 

violent paffion, ever thinks of defcribtng to 

another what his feelings at 'that thiie are ; or 

of telling them what he r^fembles. Tliis never 

Vas, and never wiH be, the language of any 
perfon, when he is digfeply moved. It is the 

• language of one who defcribes cooHy the <H)ndi- 
tion of that perfon to another j or it ia the Ian- 
guage of the paffibnate pdrfon himfelf, after his 
emotion has fubfided, relating what his fitua* 
tion was in the moments of paffion. Yet this 
fort of fecondaty description is what Tragic 
l^oets too often give ns, inftead of the native and 
primary language of paffion. Thus, in M n Addi- 
fon's Cato, when Lucia confeffes to Fortius her 

^ love for him, but, at the fable' time, fwears with 
the greateft Solemnity, that iii the prefeiit fitiia- 
tion of their c6untrylhe "^ill nev6r marry htm, 
Fortius receives this uni^pe€ted^lbntehce inth 
the utmbft allonifliment and'^ii^j'atle&S'tfae 

3" 'Toet 



Poet wanl^o ipak^iisbj^ieye that be fi) received hB^(i T^ 
it* IjEow does he ^xprejl thofe feedings ? ^y* 

Fix'd in z^pniifyacient, I ga^ uppA;thee^ 
Like one juft blaft;e,d J),jr a ftroke from He^v'n, 
Who pants fqt breatH, and ftifi^ns yi^t aliye 
In dreadful looks.; a monument of wrath. 

This makes his whole reply to Lucia. Nojy did 
any perfon, who was of a fudden aftoniflied and 
overwhelmed with forrow, ever, fince the crefu 
tion of the world, exprefs hipfifelf in this man- 
ner ? This is indeed an excellent defqription to 
be given us by another, of a perfon who was vfi 
fuch a fituation. Nothin g^ would haye^hggQ 
more proper for a by-ftander, recounting this ^ 
conference, than to have laid, 

Fix'd in aftoniflmienti he gazM upon her,' 
Like one juft blaft^ by a ftroke from Heaven, 
Who pants for breath, &c* 

But the .perfp.P;» F^o is himfelf concerned, 
l^^ks, pn fuch am occafion, in a very different 
manner. He gives vent to his feelings; he 
pleads for pity ; he dwells upon the caufe of his 
grief and aitonifliini^Iit; but never thinks of de- 
scribing his own perfon and looks, and fhowing 
us, by a fimile, what he ri^fembles. Such repre- 
fent^^tions of paifioas are no, better in Poetry, 
than it YfQuld be in painting, to make a label 
jCaefrom |he mputh of a.%ure, bidding us re^ 
l^rk, th»t this ilgure cepr^ents an ailonaflied, 

9r.agri#y#^ptrf9ft. 

X 2 O^ 



3o8 TRAOEDY. 

L E c T. • On fome other occafions, wheh Poets do not 
employ this fort of defcriptive language in paf- 
fion, they are too apt to run into forced and un- 
natural thoughts, in order to exaggerate the 
feelings of perfons, whom they would paint as 
very ftrongly moved. When Ofmyn, in the 
Mourning Bride, after parting with Almeria, 
regrets in a long foliloquy, that his eyes only fee 
objects, that are prefent, and cannot fee Almeria 
after Ihe is gone ; when Jane Shore, in Mr. 
Rowers Tragedy, on meeting with her hufband 
in her extreme diftrefs, and finding that he had 
forgiven her, calls on the rains to give her their 
drops, and the fprings to give her their ftreams, 
that flie may never want a fupply of tears ; in 
fuch paffages, we fee very pjainly that it is 
neither Ofmyn, nor Jane Shore, that fpeak; 
but the Poet himfelf in hi^ own perfon, who, in- 
ftead of affuming the feelings of tlible whom he 
means to exhibit, and fpeaking as they would 
have done in Jiich fituations, is flraining his 
fancy, and fpurring up his genius to fay fome- 
thing that (hall be uncommonly ftrong and 
lively. 

If we attend to the language that is ipoken 
by perfons under the influence of real paflion, 
we fhall find it always plain and fiipple^ abound- 
ing indeed with thofe figures which , exprefs a 
diilurbed and impetuous itate of mind, fuch as 
interrogations, exclamations, and apoftrophes; 
but never employing thofe which belong to th^ 

mere embellifhment and parade of i^eecb. We 

never 



TRAGEDY. 

never meet with any fubtilty or refinement, in l e c i*. 
the fentiments^ of real paflion. . The thoughts ^^vi. 
which paflion fuggefts^ are always plain ancf 
obvious ones, arifing dire6^1y from its obje^ 
Paflion never reafons, nor fpeculates, till its 
ardour begins to cool. It nevqr leads to long 
difcourfe or declamation. On the contrary, it 
exprefles itfelf moft commonlj^in fliort, btoken, 
and interrupted Speeches i cqrrelponding to 
the violent and defultory emotions of the 
tnind. ^ / . ► i 

Whjen we examine the French Tragedians by 
thefe principles, which feem clearly founded in 
nature, we flqd them often deficient Though in 
many 'parts, of Tragic Compofition, they have 
great merit ; though in exciting foft and tender 
emotions, fome of them are very fucce&ful ; yet 
in the high and fl^rong pathetic, they generally 
fail, yrheir paffionate Speeches too often run 
into long declamation. There is too mqch rea- 
foning and refinement; too much pornp and 
fludied beauty in them* They rather convey a 
feeble imprelfion of paflion, than awaken any 
flrong fympathy in the Re^er's mind/"^ 

Sophocles and Euripides pre much more fuc- 
cefsful in this part of Compofition. In their pa- 
thetic fcenes, we find no unnatural refinement ; 
no exaggerated thoughts. They fet before us 
the plain and dire6t feelings of nature, in fimple 
pxpreffivg language; and therefore, on great 

7i 3 occafionsp 



3io ^HAQti^'f. 

^^- Hfu too id S^ef^MTs ^t 6xl!l3HMe5^ i Md 
to this it is pntidp^tjr oititij^i that biif dnlifiiiit 
^ToUa&mii iiot^t&lbtodi^ their ma*;^ ifili 
p^rf&€tida9i ba^6be^ fo Ib^ the ftveuHt^ <tf 
the Fhh\ik. H« is mor^ &itbful tb iM ttm 
%ngua^ <tf mtvfeki in the midJii iof pHtAaAy thftB 
.any Writ«». He givei u's diii iMigttalg^ ittta- 
dult^ratiidby^urt; And inorfe inftattieeft of it tiU) 
be quoted fiKOiti bim tfaah liiom til other Tragit 
Poets taken together. I (hall refer only ui tblit 
admirable fcene in Macbeth, where Macduff 
recei>7^stfae itccouht of his irife ixiA ill biis chil- 
dren bdng iflkBghtered in his afefetaeie. The 
eitiotiotti, firft of grief, aiid then of tfaje itaoft 
'ifi^rbe -Kefentmeht rifirig ipaaiii Mild^th, at« 
'<^i)t%d1fi fbdli k manner that there ii» tab heart 
-bOtifalM feel thetii, and no fsiitKrir ician ^^iicelve 
'i»ify thiilg tnore expreffive of Natote. 



WtfA regiird fb moral fentimentis and 
tiOiirs26 Tragedies, it is clear that tb^ mufi not 



* Nothjjig, far ihftaoce, tka ht more tbttchii^ itod patb^tio 
than the addrefs which Medea, in Euripides, makes to her 
children, when (he had formed the refolution of putting them 
to death : and nothing more natural, than th^*^^£mi|ft iiHntii flie 
h defcrihed as fnffbing Mllhiti h^rMf dn that tiddffio4 1 

£uR. Med. L. 1040. 

recur 



Xi,V^- 



the caijb ; wilih thf^e^ Xa)in TJiagf die|^ vh jplj go... 
tindor tb? QAD^of iSeii^i^a, i^iph^e Ijt^e mqrje . 

tfeaH a qo^e^n ,qf ^(^fuaafm* %»4 SWfli 
f^^tflnoes* ^9»wht «i> v4f^. a auaint ^filUapcy^,, 
whiifk fuHfd*eF«vaiKp»tafte^f>l^:^ge., 

, • . ■ • .-.,•• - - S * . .^ -. .. 

■ • * - f « 

J AM Qot^ lipwey^F,- of:ppgiion,,,it^ mprsii 
r^fle6kions. wgiit t?.^)^ ^Uffgfs^er^pfniUei in 

em digpily ^t9 |*ip fiojpf^gl?^, ^, ^ori piany 
occafions, they are -^tr^llG^y natur^! Wh,ea 
Perfons are under any uncommon diflrefs, when 

l^^ftf^ifeel^^Wg mS^Pffy W experiencing 
id tJb^Q^l^TAS^it^ viipiJS^^es^ haman fortune j 
in4e^d^. Vhfln t^^ 4^ I^^C(^d in any xrf th^ 
gceiat and ^trj^^g fit;}fitjif^ 9^ }^'^9 ierioiis and 
mQf9lff«jfl#iS|ion^jffliit^ to them, whe- 

t^F^t^^j^e. p^^nfikof much yii^u^ or not. 

j^Jmffl^. wwy ihmm^ b?4ffg i*» <>^ C'^ch occa- 

ftw^t; 4%tf?4 ^ iV? %i9HS* It is then the 
l^tj^^l 1^q^§ pf t\\p min^ ; and therefore no 
T^^g^O poet ih^uld omit ^fiicKjprpper opportuni- 
tii^^ when they pccuf, /or fajrpuring the inte- 
i:eft» of vlartjue. Cardinal Wolfey's foliloquy 
upon hisffill, for inft^nce» in Shakelpeare, when 
he bids a lopg f^reiyi^^ll to j^Jl Jbis greatnefs, and 
the advices which he f^fterwards gives to Crom- 
well, are, in his iituft^jq|i ^tren^ely natural ; 
touch^ndjlea^ali li^^ders.; and are at once 
inftru6l;ive and affe^ipg. Much of the merit 

X 4 of 



512 TRAGEDY.' 

L E c T. of Mrl AddHbn's Cato depends ujniM^hat ftioral 
^^* turn of thought which diftinguifh6S it.'^ I have 
had occafion, botfafin this Le6fcare tHid'-ia the 
preceding one; to take tiotfce'bf Tomfe*rite de» 
fefts; and certainly ncHher fOt-'^afnith of 
paflion nor proper coriduft of iht''ip}iit/ i« it 
at all eminent. It does ni6t, howfeteFi" follow, 
that it is deftitute of merit. Fdr; hf'thii purity 
and beauty of the language, by the dignity of 
Cato*s chaTafter, by thiit ardour of public ipirit, 
^d thofe virtuous fentiments of whichit is foil, 
it has always commanded high regard i and has, 
both in ojir own country ahd aniong foreigners, 
acquired no finall flotation. ' ' - « 

< . • ^ • H . ♦ I ■ . ; n}.t : I i' . . . , 

The Style and Verfifieatidn of 't^edy ought 
to be free, ealy, and viwed'. ' OnrWank verfe 
is happily fuited to this puipofe.- It has foflS- 
cient majefty for raifing the Style.; it can de- 
fcend to thj? fimple and ferhitiar^j itis fufcepti* 
ble of great variety of cadence j- find is qiiite 
freefrotn the conftraint and mbhotdtfy'iwFrhyme^r 
For monotony is, above all thing^/to tfe aVoided 
by a Tragic Poet. If he maintains every where 
the fame flatelinefs of Style, if he unifortily 
keeps up the fame run 'of tneafure and harmony 
in his Verfe^ he cannot fiiil of becoming infipid. 
He Ihould npt indeed fink into flat and carelefs 
lines J his JStyle fiiouid always have force and 
dignity, but not the iiniform dignity of Epic 
Poetry; It ihould aflume that br^nefs and 
eafe which is fuited to the freedom of ^dialogue, 
^nd the flu£tuations of paflion* 

One 



One of the greateft mi^brtunes of theP« French Lfe c ^J 
Tragedy is, its being always written fa; rfaymcMf. ^^\ 
The nature of the French language, indeed, re- 
quires this, in order to diflinguifh the Styleirom 
mere Profe. But it fetters the freedom of the*? 
Tragic Dialogue, fills it iwith a languid moho< 
tony^ and is, in a manner, /fatal ^b the high 
ftrength and power of paffion. : Voltaire main<n 
tains, that the difficulty of compofing in Frendi 
Rhyme, iff ome-^reat caule of the pleafure which' 
the Audience receives from the Compofition^: 
Tragedy would be ruineid^ lays he, if we were 
to write it in Blank Verfe jitake away the diffi- 
ctiMy, and you take ajwayrthe whole merit. A- 
ftrange idea ! as if the^enteciainment of the Au-r 
dience arofe^ not from. the. emotions which the 
Poet i» fuccef^ul in awakening, but from a re-' 
fl^^on on the toil which he . endured in his 
dofet, fro«i afforting male and female Rhymes* 
With* regard ' to thofe ijilendid comparifons in 
Rhyme, and firings of Couplets, with which it 
was, fome tiv^e ago^ fafhionable for our Englifh 
Poets to dottclttde, not only every aft of a 
Tragedy, but Ibmetimes dfo the moil inte- 
reding Scenes, nothing need be iaid, but 
that they were the mod perfe^ barbarifms ; 
childiih ornaments, introduced to pleafe a f alfe 
taile in the Audience f and now univerially laid 
afide. 

Having thus treated of all the different pkrts 
of Tragedy, I fhall conclude the fubje^, with 
a ihort view of the Greek, the French, and the 

Englifh 



5l« 



GREEK T&AGEDY. 



I/SCT.-Englifli Sttge, and vkh ob&rvations : on the 
**^ principal Writers. 

« 

■ • • 

Most of the diftinguiihing chsLraB^rs of tbc^ 
Greek Tragedy have been akeady occaflonaliy 
mentioned. It was embellilhed with the Lyric 
Foetry of the Chorus, of the ofigin of which» 
an4 of the flidvantageis.anddifad vantages ^atteiui* 
ii^; it, I treated fully in the preceding Le^tqns. 
The Plot was always exceedin^y fimple* It 
admitted of few incidents^ '. It was condy^ed« 
with a very exa6t rega^ to the unities of fi6fcioii| 
time, and place. Maclunery, or the intery^i^ 
tion of the Gnods, was employed ; aiid,:iKh|ok{:)8 
veiy £uilty^ . the final iittravelLoig. ftico^ii»f« 
made to tnni upon it. Love,: except in cme Of 
two ioAanoes, wais.\>never admitted: antp the 
6tieek Tragedy. Their liiiQjje&fe^ were.JiftBift 
£Mmded on deftiny, or.inevdtefa3e;mmf0r|;ittte6» 
A vein of xeligious and mdrd- fentiaiOTfi aliS9S3rs 
funs through them ; but they madeHeft vie (thaa 
the .Mbdems cf the combat af thejpsffions^ Moi 
«f the diilrefies which mnr pafiuMM briog iipo9 
mu: i Their Plots were all takentfrem the uitieixt 
traditionary ftoities of their own nations. • .Her« 
coles futn^es matter ior two Txagediea. * The 
hsftoiy of :6Edqius, King of Thebes, smdrhis ioh- 
fdrtuni^ ianculy, fbr ^. The twar of Xxoy, 
with its confequences, for no fewer than iemn- 
teen. There is only one of later date than this ; 
iAichrisiiieDec&, tor^expeetdition of Xerxes, by 
JBtkhj/hss. . 

^SCHTLUS 



MatAYhVs is tbe F^Miwr of -the-Grsek ,Tja^ i;.bg T. 

gedy, And exhibits bp:th;rfifl beau^es, and.the .fi^ ^ 
defeats, of dn early origHk^lli^riteiv Heigboldj' 
pervtjiisj apd aBimil<G^t but ivery .obfqure and 
difficult: to be, urtdsri^opd j:paF^J^ by r^alon of 
the incortecl flatie in fVfl'ic^ {f*^ bay^; his. .worky 
(th^y having faff«r«|iJ-iBoi|e fey tirae^ than any 
of the Antient TragefC^asJ, fnd pantly on ap- 
eotoilt:,of theiiiature-, of his, Styje, which is 
crowded with metaphors, often harlh and tu- 
mid. He abounds with martial ideas and de- 
icrijttionsi He has toucI^ fire and,., ejevation; 
lefs ef. tend^rDefs, than of fprce. He delights 
iti ihn fnafvellous. .The Ghoft of Dadus in tbe 
PeKee^ the InfpiratiQn of .CaiTandi'a.in Aga^^- 
Inon^ and tJie Songs of the Furies m ithi^.Eua)^ 
nides» ^e' beaotifu] in t^eir kind, ^|d llrotjgly 
>«Xpre£Sve ofhJB^eniufit ,. ^j . - 

SoPHOcLBs is tim. moft ,ni?fterly oi" the ftirae 
Greek; Tr?^dians;}. the -pioft correfl; in the -tbri- 1 

'dii^l.t^ his fu^e6tB.} -the moft.jufl aQtl^bblime 
jh his feciiraentst He is eminent' for liis de- 
icrvp^^fe tajfent, The . relation of the death of 
<£^>iisi in his (£^us OotoDeus, and of tt^e 
ideathpf H%tn on and Antigpne, ij^. bis Antigone, 
ftft perieft [patterns -cf deicri^tion to Tragic 
Poets. EuripiclBs is efteemed mpre t«ider .than 

.'Skfphfrdes; and he is fuUerof moral fentiiiiei^. 

' But, in tbe condu^ 0^ bis pUy^t he is more 'jfl' 
covfe&f and-nc^jg^t-; bia es^jw&ions, or opeli- 
,Hig)s «f t^ie: fubjefl;, are «iade m a..lers artful 
-»aaBer^^w4:tbe Songs of J^Chbrus,: though 
. , :, , , remarkably 



3ltf GREEK TRAGEDY. 

L £ c T.* remarkably poetical, have, commonly, lefi con* 
^^ , neftion with the main a6lion, than thofe of 
Sophocles* Both Euripides and Sophocles, how- 
ever, have very high merit as Tragic Poets. 
They are elegant and beautiful in their Style ; 
juft, for the mod part, in their thoughts ; they 
ipeak with the voice of nature ; and, making 
allowance for the difference of antient and mo- 
dem ideas, in the midft of all their iimplicity, 
they are touching and interefting. 

The circumftances of theatrical reprelenta- 
'tion on the ilages of Greece and Rome, were, 
in feveral reipe£t8, very fingular, and widely 
difierent from what obtains among us.^ Not 
only were the Songs of the Chorus accompanied 
with inflrumental mufic, but as the Abbe de Bos, 
in his RefIe6tions on Poetry and Painting, has 
proved, with much curious erudition, the dia- 
logue part had alfo a modulation of its own, 
'which was capable of being fet to notes ; it was 
carried on in a fort of recitative between the 
a£tors, and was fupported by inflruments. He 
has farther attempted to prove, but the proof 
ieems more incomplete, that on fome occafions, 
on the Roman flage, the pronouncing and gef- 
ticulating parts were divided; that one a£i;or 
ipoke, and another performed the geflures and 
motions correfponding to what the firft faid. 
The a£i;ors in Tragedy wore a long robe, called 
Syrma, which flowed upon the Stage. Tliey 
were raifed upon Cothurni, which rendered 
ftature uncq{nmonly high ; and they always 

II played 



GREEK TRAGEDY; ^317 

played in mafques. Thefe mafques were like le c t. 
helmets, which covered the whole head ; the , ^^ V' 
mouths of them were fo contrived as to give an 
artificial found to the voice, in order to make it 
be heard over their vail theatres ; and the vifage 
was fo formed and painted, as to fiiit the age, 
chara6ters, or dilpofitions of the perfons repre- 
fented. When, during the courfe of one Scene, 
different emotions were to appear in the fame 
perfon, the mafque is faid to have been fo 
painted, that the A6lor, by turning one or other 
profile of his face to the Spe6lators, expreffed 
the change of the fituation. This, however, 
was a contrivance attended with many difkd- 
vantages. The mafque muft have deprived the 
lpeQ;ators of all the pleafure which arifes from 
the natural animated expreflion of the eye, and 
the countenance ; and, joined with the other 
circumflances which I have mentioned, is apt 
to give us but an unfavourable idea of the 
dramatic reprefentations of the Antients. In 
defence of them it muft, at the fame time, be 
remembered, that their theatres were vaftly 
more extenfive in the area than ours, and filled 
with immenfe crowds. They were always un- 
covered, and expofed to the open air. The 
a6lors were beheld at a much greater difi^aiice, 
and of courfe much more imperfe6lly by the 
bulk of the Spedlators, which both rendered 
their looks of lefs confequence, and might make 
it in fome degree neceiTary that their featured 
ihould be exaggerated, the found of their voices 
enlarged, and their^wholie appearance magnrfed 

beyond 



3^8 nUENCH TfiAGCDT. 

ir E c 7* liejood <lie life, » Mder to make die ftnmgef 
^^;^^ impr^oo. It is certain, that, as jdramatic 
£pe6Ucles were the &vourite entertainments of 
^ GteekB and BoQians, the attention given to 
^eijr proper eidiibition, and the magnifioence of 
^e apparatus beftowed on their dieatres, hr 
Jt^uceeded anj thing that has been attempted in 
jpodern ages. 

Ik the CompofiticHis of (bme of the French 
Xhnmatic Writers, particularly Comeille, Radiie, 
laild Voltaire, Tragedy has a[q>eared with much 
Jttftre and dignity. They muft be allowed to have 
jmproiecd upon the Antients, in introduciiig 
onore incidents, a greater variety of paffions, a 
tfUHer diQday of oharafters, and in rendering the 
srul^e£l theod^ more interefting. They have 
iftudied to imitate the antient models in rega- 
jUdty of condu&. They are attentive to all the 
unities, and to all the deoorums of ientiment and 
^morality ; and their Style is, generally, very poeti- 
jcal and elegant. What an EngUfii tafte is moft 
apt to ceofure, in them, is the wa^t of fervour, 
iftrength, and the natural language. of paffion. 
There is ofben too much converiation in their 
fu^es, inftead of action. They are tpo decla- 
jQoatory, as wi^ before obferved, when they 
ibould be paffionate ; ;too refined, when they 
ibould be fimple. Voltaire freely acknowledges 
dhde defe£lsof the French Theatre. He admits, 
d^iat.^>tir bcift Tragedies do not m.ake a.fufficient 
impnBmoi on ^tiete bezx^; that the gallantcy 
odMi imigus Jn :them, ^and the- long fi^f ipim 

dialogue 




FRENCH TRAGEDY. jip 

dialogue with which they over-abound, heqaeniky L^ cr. 
•i^read a languor over them ; that the Autboo^s 
fee^ned to be afraid of being too tragic ^ and 
very ^ndidly gives it as his judgment, that an 
union of the vehetndnce and the a&ion, whidi 
chara6terife the Englifli Theatre, with the cor- 
l*e6tnefs and decorum of the French Theatre, 
would be necefl&ry to form a perfect Tragedy. 

CoRKFfeiLiiE, ^o is prc^rly the Father of 
French IVagedy, is difliiiguiSied by the majefly 
and grandeur of bis feptiments, and the fruitful* 
nefs of his im^nsntion. -His ^genius was un- 
queftionably very rich, but feemed more turned 
towards the Epic than the IVagic vein ; for, in 
j^nei^al, he is magn^est and ^endid, ratiofer 
thantender and touching, fie is the moil de- 
clamatory of all the French Tragedians, lie 
united the c<^iouih6fs of Dryden with the fire 
of Lucan, and he refembles them alfa in their 
•faults; in their extravagance and impetuofity. 
He has compofed a. great number of Tragedies, 
very unequal in their merit. His bed and moft 
deemed |nece9, are the Cid^Hoiace^ Folye^u&e, 
and Cinnaf. 

Racine, as a Tra^c Poet, is much £iperior to 
Corneilie. He wanted the copioix&^fs and 
grandeur of Comeille^s imagination ; but is free 
from his bombaft, and excels him greatlyin ten- 
derneis. Few Poets, indeed, are more tender 
and moving than Racine. His Phaedra, his An- 
dromaque, his Athalie, and his Mithrid^te, are 

excellent 



, J40 J-RENCH TRAGEDY. 

.LE c T.^xceUentdr«aiaticperfoi-tnanc^6,»nddo,nofnialI 

"XT VT 

^ >^_^ , _*_^ honour to the French Stage. His language and 
verfification are uncommonly beautiful* Of aU 
the French Authors, he appears to me to have 
moft excelled in Poetical Style; .to have ma- 
naged their Rhyme with the greatefl advantage 

. and facility, and to have given it the moft com- 
plete harmony. Voltaire has, again and again, 
pronounced Racine's Athalie to be the ** Chef 
" d'Oeuvre*^ of the French Stage. It is alto- 
gether a facred drama, and owes jmuch of its 
elevation to the Majefty^of Religion j but it is 
lefs tender and interefting than Andromaque. 
Racine has formed two of his plays upon plans 
of Euripides* In the Phaedra he is extremely 
fuccefsful, but not fo, in my opinion,^ in the 

. Iphigenie ; where he has degraded the antient 
chara6lers, by unfeafonable gallantry. Achilles 
is a French Lover ; and Eriphile, a modern 
Lady*. 

Voltaire, 



* The chara£iers of Corneille and Racine are happily con- 
trafted with each other, in the following beautiful linea of a 
French Poet, which will gratify feveral readers : 

Corneille. 

Ilium nobilibus majeftas evehit alis 
Vertice tangentem nubis : itant online longo 
Magnanimi circum heroes, fulgentibus omnes. 
Induti trabeis ; Polyeu£lus, Cinna, Seleucus» 
£t Cidusy et rugis fignatus Horatius ora« 

Racine. 

Hunc circumvolitat penna alludente Cupido, 

Vincla triuxnphatis inftemens florea fcenii : 

Colligit 



Vdil^Aib, iu (W^Ml of his iVo^^, in iili'L £ 

^icle, hd hks cmtdMie th^ufi ftll, iti the delieate' 
and interefiingfitufttions whidi he htid contrived 
to ihtroduce. In thefe lied his chief ftrength. 
Ke is not, indeed^ exempt front the defdfttf^ 



CoUigit hme moQb (enkiit.Ievibufque cat^nis . 
Heroat ftruigit dociks, FfiThof^ue» Titofque^ 
Pelidafque ac Hippolytos^ qui fponte fequudtur 
Servitiuniy facilefque ferunt in vincula palmat* 
Ingentes niminim animos Cornelius ingens, 
Et quaki lubet tpfe» fuia heixiibiii affiiA 
. Sublimes fenfus) vox oUi mafculat magmim oif 
Nee mortale foniuis. Rapido fluit impete venaf 
Vena Spphocleis npn inficianda fliientis. 
Ractniua Galfit baud vifos tstu ttieMil 
Mcrilior iagetio MttMroi indttxit tttiorel* 
Mtlgnaninxw qUamna fenfus fob piidore vcrfeft 
Agrippina^ Ucet Ronano robor^ 9^urrbua 
polleait, et magni generofa fuperbia Pori 
Non femd eniteat, tamen etfe ad tooUia liatum 
(iredideris vatem ; tot, olli melkai knis 
Spiritus eft ; noa ilk animii tiaa concitua infert. 
At coecos animonuii aditus rimatur^el inria 
Mentibus occultost fyrefi peoetrabilist i6tu8 
tniinuansy palpando 'ferity Iseditque placendo. 
Vena fluit &e^ n6n ititenrnfla idtote,,) 
Nee n^dos fetnpet tolvit cum mufibure fltiAut«» 
Agmine fed kni fliuut* Seugraminalambit 
Rivulusf et coeco per pnia vireatia Iapfu» . 
Aufugiensy tadta fluit indeprenfus arena ; 
Flore micant ripac illimes ; hue Tulgus dmantum 
Conv^kt^ et kcrjrmif auget riTaUbus fttdH : 
Singuktis unda? refektmty gemitufque ibnbrds 
Ingeaunantf molli gemitus imitante ffj£ian^4 

Tem|ilum Tragfiedis, per f^s. Miittrr^. 
£ SocietAte Jefu, 

VOL. III. T of 



3aa FaWfQH TllA«E»y.: 

^^'^ ^ fprce, aad of beiog fometupefi too long and de- 
G)am£|tory in bis ip^eches i . imt h^ charafi^ers are 
drawq with fpixi^. Ims events are -ftiiking, md in 
hia f^Qtimenta th/sre ui much elevation. Hi» 
Zay)?e, Al^re, ^^erope, apd; Orphan of Chinm 
are four capital Tragedies^and deferve the higheft 
praiie. What one might perhaps not expefi;, 
Voltaire is, in the ftrain of his fentimenti, the 
moil religious^ and the moft moral, of all. '^jTragic 
Poets. 

Though the mufical Dramas of Metaflafio 
fulfil not the chara6teir of juft and r^ular 
Tragedies, they approacti liowever €0 n^ar to 
it, and poflels fo much merit, that it. would be 
UDJufl to pais them over without notice* For 
the elegance of Style, the charms of Lyric' 
Poetry, and the fceauties of fentiment, they are 
eminent. They abound in well-contrived and 
interefting fituations* The Dialogue, by its 
clofeneis and rapidity, carries a confiderable 
refemblance to that of the Ahtient Greek 
Tragedies; and is both more animated and 
more natural, than the long declamation of the 
French Theatre. But the Ihortnefs of the 
feveral Di*amas, and the intermixture -'of fo 
much Lyric Poetry as belongs to this fert of 
Compofition, often occafions the couile of the 
incidents tp be liurried on too quickly, and pre« 
vents that confident diiplay of charaften^ and 
that full preparation of events, which are necef- 
lary tb give a proper Verifimliitude to Tragedy. 



Tr^dj^in Gteat .Britain j, the general <:hiara^ef ^^ 
6f ^ldii;isy that it is more; animated. £ipdpaA' 
ficaotate: than JFrench Tragody^ but ^tnoX'i^iirr^gu*-; 
lar; and; incorre^i and le& attentive to ^fi^orum 
and tQ; eleganiqe* Th6 pathetic, it mull alwa}fs^ 
be :r€tmetnbei^, is the ibul of Tragedy., Xi>e 
Saglifl}^ ther^re, mufl be allowed, t<> ^^^^ 
ajmad/gt .^e higheft, fpecies. of, ,ex;qellence;; 
tfaoUghi iti.the e:^i;teCution, they hav^ not always, 
joined thti otheii benutie^ {that ought tO;aQ<;om« 
pany ;the pithetk. <- 

The firft obj^iwhich prefetits itftif to; m^, oijl 
the Englifh Theatre, i« the great Shakefpeare*' 
Gi^eat he may be* juftly :called, as the extent and 
&rcie of his natufal genius, both fpr Tragedy 
and Comedy, are altogether unrivalled *• But, 



* 'the chara&er which Dryden has drawn of Shakefpeare is 
not only juft,' tut uncommonly elegant and happy. " He was 
^ the man, who, of all modeirny and perhapd'antient Poets, had 
^ the largeft and moft comprehenfive fouL. All dbe images of . 
** Nature were flill prefentto hjm, fnd< he drew them not 
** laboriouilyy but luckily* When he defcribes any thing, you 
^ more than fee it ; you feel it. too. They who accufe him off 
^ waiituig learning, give him the greateft cbnlmeridation. He 
^ Wa^ naturally leanted*. He nee^ddot the Spe&acl&» of 
«< Books to n^ Nature. He looked iniMrard, , and found her 
«♦ there. I caimot Cay be is every where alike. Were he fo, 
'* I (hould do him injury to compare him. to the greateil of 
** mankind. He is many times flat and infipid ;* tiis comic wit 
**' degenerating itito clenched; his ferioui fwelling into bombaft. 
« ' Bear he is Sways' great,' wheh fome great ' occafioa is preu 
^ kp(ifii to him/' i ; DnifraM'fi flflay of I>nunatiq Poetry^ 

Y 2 at 



< * f 



3s4 BK0U8HTHAG1IM& 

LECT. atthe fame time, it k genrot ihotrtiBg wild; 
^^ . deikdent in juR tafte, and altogethef unffiilei 
by knoidedge or art Loi^faashehMDidditfeA 
by the ftitiih aadoii; miicb baa bet» fiud^aad 
flftttoh baabeen writteii ctolieemiiig btm;; On& 
dfin has been drawn to the very drcga, in caoi* 
mentaries upon his words and witticiifaia ; aad 
yet it remains, to this day, in doubt, wbeAttf 
his beauties, or his &ults, be greateft. Adttim* 
ble fcenes, and paflageii^ withont number, tbma 
are in his Flays ; paflQi^es beyond what are la 
be found in any other Dramatic Wnter; btt| 
there is hardly any one of his Plays which can 
be called idtogether a good one, or wlndh can 
be read with uninterrupted pleitfiure firom be- 
ginning to end. Be^des extreme irregularitieB 
in condud);, and grotefque fluxtures- 4>f . feijoos 
and comic in one piece, we are often interrupted 
by unnatural thoughts, harih expreffions, a cer- 
tain obibure bombaft, and a play upon words, 
which he is fond of purfuing ; and diefe inter- 
ruptions to our (deafure too frequently occur, 
on occafions when we would leaft wiih to meet 
with them. All thefe faults, however, SHiake- 
i^eare redeems by two of the greateft excel- 
lencies which any Tragic Poet can poflefs ; his 
Hvely and diverfified paintings of chara&er ; his 
ftrong and natural expreffions of paffion. Thefe 
are his two chief virtues ; on thefe his merit 
rells. Notwithflanding his many abfurdities, 
all the while we are reading his Hays, we £nd 
ourfelves in the. midft pf our fellows; we meet 
with men, vulgar perhaps in their manners, 

coarfe 



CMlfe ^r hadl^in their ^tiwemts, but ftili they l £ c T« 
sfre men'} iheySpwk mhk human voices, and ^^^ 
are t^nated by humw paflions; we are in<- 
terefted la what they iay or do, hecaufe we feel 
thftt they are of the &me natwre with ottri^ves^ 
|t is therefore no matter of wonder, thftt from 
t^mor&polifl^d and rogulart but miore cold 
and artiftqiidi {lerftrmanoes of other Poets^ the^ 
|^ut)»)ia ihoM^ PtUmk vAih plese^ire to fiich wArm 
and geniiiim:i!Wi»)efentatto9s^o nature. 

9b9ktf9(t9mpoiKdSk$li^ meritof having 

created, for hiknfelf, a ibrt of world of prs^ter^^ 
i^atur^ beingJBf His witches, ghofta, fumes, and 
%irits of all kinds, are defcribed wiUi fucfa cir« 
cumftances of awfuk aikd myfterious foieB&nity^ 
and fpeak a language fo pecSuliar to themS^lveSi 
as ftrongly to afibft the imagination* HiSl two 
mafter^pieces, and in n^idtu in my, opinion^ 
tfete ftrei^gtb of his fgtaiiitt chiefly appters, are 
OthelUit'iwd MaildM^ki W^ to hishif- 

todcal>jpJhysi tfaejfiara pno^f^fly ipeaking, neither 
Tra0edl^s<nor)Oon>ed]ttf but apecuUat fpecies 
of Idmmaths (E^rtertainment^^^^ de« 

fetibt'^thti' n|anner» of tiie: times of which he 
trestSy/to; exhibit the principal characters, and 
tofix -our imagination on the moft interefting 
events and revolutions of our own country *• 



' ^ ' See an excellent defence of Shakefpeare's Hiftorical Play^, 
and feveral juft bbfenrtftions on his peculiar excellencies as a 
Tragic Pbet, in Mrs; Montague's Eflay on the Writings and 
Genius of Shakefpeare^ 



I ( 



Y 3 After 



p6 B)ffQiA&K TRACJSniri 

L £ c ^; AfteA -the -age • ^ S)Aikef|]leiif d^' «m( can )iM: 
.i.^^-;, duce in the' Btigiifti Mfi^age^t^v^^ dettichie* 
Tragedies df cotifid^r|ibt^W«riti * Iftat'W^ hats 
liet im^tiy^DraiEniat^* Writers^ whdfe^^w woA» 
are e^ittled ^i«h^ CKV^rtioiilar 'eritidlhi ; or vetf 
high' iJfake*«5tt the- TragtedtesiofDi^d<^^ an* 
Le^j «here idthucbtflre^ tbut ibkiM^'Withf mu^ 
fdilian^ add rant. L«o)ft^-'><'irb«<ldk}Q8J?c^ thtf 

ui ibkM d^'tktt'ircenesv dote AM;:firitit««M«denieft 
and w^ai'mth ^ < thoiigihi i<MiimtSkflkyiJ^ 
extravngtat in the fekitih)en«i*'^^^Otwirf .^atiM^ 
Adwed'iwkh.a hi^ portibn of the T^tagit^fpMt^ 
whidk'tOipfietT^ toigfkA advantage 9ii bistw^ 

Ti^tl^ioll theodiftreiresi bding^/fdideep ^S!.'to';^ar 
ati^Hi»Ver>txhe]iki 4&6iteind. i)iie.:is*>9U'jV¥ritlM9 
do>ob tkft,! < of gtinkb mdnftnong' pkilii^ i but, '^ 
the fathe>tiib0,: escfllidfifhglj^gr^ 
No Irttag0di^ irea^'impis^ tboA(d^^(H'^ 

merits ih J<ikem ^ butia»iioe»ti9i)»w^mtfsc^^ 
ebvertff'i^elf; Hetiaritfid.vin^YOppoiiftdi of<ithe( 
French decocdtn j/;qitifiiQ| ciniikrivftfi to iDtrAittOtf 
obfcenity arid indeifent allufitms^^intb the midit 
of deep 'Tragedy. '■• '■ ^^' <^r^ iinio/ w i -r. ;-♦.: 

Rowe's Tragedies make a contrail to thofe of 
Otway. ; He is fijll qf /elevated and TOoral fentir 
menw. The Poetry is often good; and tlie lan- 
guage always pure and elegant) hut^ iti moft of 
his Plays, he is too cold anduninterefting ; and 
ill ■■. ' [ ' flawery 



ENGLISH T1U16&DY. 



3^7 



ilowei^ralh^ritlmn tragic; :1?W6, hdwev^n he lb or. 
•ha« ppddudedf, which dfeferve to ^)te exempted ^^^' 
-£r(imithi6 cenfiiTei Jaile 'iShoi^> atid^ the Faic Pe^ 
initeiit ; in both '.o£ whkb^^ there am fo -many 
tender and >trulyi pathetic fogies, as. to rendi^: 
thetejuftlyfevouritesof the Publtei ' ' 



II' " • 

.i^ » J ' l>ft; ' YouNo'b ' Revenge • is a J^lay- ^vfrhfeh^fltt 
\W^t% genius ^ and fire \ ' Buy ^\N^nt$ ten^rhefs, 
;and turas too,i)»ach xipon< the (hocking ^tid ^ire*- 
-fui i^^^ii^^ ' JXi C^^ 

there are Gime^fyie fituations^ -ahd miK^h gmA 
Poetry. l%e two'firil A£te are adtiiii^bl^^ The 
ttieetmg of AltfieHii with her 'hufband Ofiiiyn^ 
4]^*^ the totaib'Of Atii^tmp; is one ctf thb^thcXiio^ 
letnn aikd^ ftrlfcttig fituatlons to b^ feftxndm^^ktiy 
.Tragedy. > /^he diefe^te in tbe<')i^ataft]t](phb^''t 
fioiiked )out ill the laft Le^Dre;^^^ Mr. T3lcifaftfti^k 
iVagedies {pfaretoo^'fuU of jEt-ftift'moirftlitW'Whii^h 
^ehd^ thl3m^>tiuU mdlrtbrffikl.: ITdtKN^ed^^^ 
•Sigifmuiida far^jnascets'tbe >reft! s^jBiiid ft>Kty*^k)(i 
the c{iiaft|6beri5^<atid featt^iefafA^iju^yiid^re^v^Bli 
•place aibong^^tbe - Ibeft ^gl^tk^^t^e^tikdP 0f 
latter pieces, itMdbfttvirigfAb^ 
purpofe^toibreat^ '^>'^ ' • 'i^ -i <: c^-i^'^^iU i'-^'* 

Upon the whole, revlefwingithi Itra^Q^jom^ 
pofitions of different nation^^«h%!fello#ing con- 
el uiions arife. A Greek Tragedy is the relation 
of any diflrefsful or melancholy incident ; fome* 
times the effect of pafiion or crime, oflener of 
the decree of the Gods, fimply expofed ; with* 
out much variety of parts or events, but natu- 

y * rally 



^^ ENGLISH TRAGEDY. 

I. £ c Tt rally and beauttfUIly fet before ut f rboiglitened 
^^ by the Poetiy of the Chonw. 4 Fmicb Twr 
gedy is a feries of artful and refined conyeda- 
tiona, founded upon a variety of tragical and 
interefting iituations ; carried on with little ac- 
tion and vehemence ; but with much poetical 
beauty, and high propriety and decorum. An 
Engliih Tragedy is the combat of ftr-ong paffionsi 
fet before us in all their violence; produdog 
deep diiafters} often irregularly conduced; 
abounding in aftion ; and iSlUng the Speftators 
with grief. The Antient Tragedies were more 
natural and fimple ; the Modern are more artful 
and complex. Among the Frenfib there ia more 
corre6tne|8 ; among tJie Eqgliibt more fire« Af^ 
dfomaque and Zayre foften, Odic^ end Venice 
pri^ved r0nd, the heart. It ckfetvea remark) 
that three q£ the greateft mailer^piecea of the 
French Tragic Theatre^ turn wholly upon reli- 
gious fubijedts : the Athalie of Ractne^ the Fo- 
)yeud;e of Comeille, and the Zayre of Voltaire, 
trhe firft ia founded upon a biftorieid pajffiigc ef 
the Old Teftameat i; in the other two» the dUbefi 
arifes j&om the ;iiaal and attachsMntof the prio^ 
dpal perfonages to the Chriftian fiuth ; and in 
all the three, the Authors have, with much pro- 
priety, availed themfelves of the Mi^fty which 
may be derived £rom rdigious idea& 






J ■ • 



( f I 






LECTUK.E XLVIL 




* t 



r 

'#ji; lio- 



(OMji:t>Y,^ GREEK AND ROMAN rrFREKCH-r 

ENGtISH COMEDY. ' -^-^^'^ 



t * • . 'i 



'poMEBY is ibflki6iidy>difcrilxii]ittted fipom IVfh L B c T. 
^ g6dy,byitBg€ttttialfpi*Handftram^ WhUc J^^- 
|ri^ and tenor, and th^ 6ther ftrang paffiona, 
Ibrm the provkiee of the ktter^ the tAiief, dir 
rather ifole inftrniiient of tile fbrmer^ h ridicule* 
Comedy propofes^ ibr itii^lj^e£t, tieithier the great 
fiifferiiigs, nor the greatt icrimes of men ; but 
their follies and fli^hter vices^ th<^ parts of 
their eharadser^ whicti roife in beholders a feidh 
of improprielyy vAikh expofe them to be cetf* 
fiured .and laughed at by others, or which render 
them troubleibme in civil fociety« 

This general idea of CcMnedy, as a fttirical 
exhibition of the improprieties and follies cS 
mankind, ia an idea very moral and ufeful* 
There is nothing in the nature, or general plan 
of this kind of Compofition, that renders it 
liable to cenfure. To poKfii the manners of 

men^ 




COMEDT. 




t£ ioeailt. bAaxioar, and. 



'. ^ ' i ^ 



tiiewcM. liaiij fk» Hskt be 
fiiDj exploded, % eaifiajiag 




J i 



jU the fibb/«ir, irflldrbe mmJMBnd, tiitf 
ndicnle u as iiiflmifn t qf fiich a natme, ti»t 
whin oKDiaged bf ogflyjl^l^ or iflipRiper bndiy 
ihen is hazaid. of its don*g nufcliic^ infieadof 
I^Dod to ibdetj. For xidiciile is £u- fiom bcin^ 
as /bme InTe mamtainfd it to be^ a |Hnp|icr^t|cft 
altmtdL On^ie ciBw^^ijf itls^t to AmSgad^ 
and fediMy, b j tbe oolouis wbich it throws i^oa 
il/f jiti^a^i,m^it.M^^ to 

^ gjppfJEW ^M» <^ W to dift p n gu ifli -hf^we^ fifte 
.^nitli aiMl efTc^, , Xii^eotipiis^^^ffitei^, tberafivc^ 
cjCtfa^Cosiic^dafi^ hireto«atea:hadAiBlbQr 
pawer^ to caft a jridiciile:ap9a'^cfaaaiABn 4Ad 
p)i)i^,|rfiipb did not dfiftc^e it Baf^ this is« 
£Mik, qofejovnpg to the natMie ^i.Cmntij^ hat 
the.goiios and turn oCl^ Writen of it. In 
ikelmtdM ^fajogfisyimmiagai Aathar^Xnaacdy 
fi(ttt* miflfildv ao4 corrupt; vhtle,. in -fhiife o£ja 
virtuous and wdl-intentimied one^-it viU be wmoU 
only a gay and innocent, but a kudaUe and 
ufefid tntectaifuiieiit. ^Frendi Comedj^isao ex. 
ceQentlchool of manners; while En^^fli Ccmied^ 
)ias been too often the fehool of vice»: .. 

Tna rules refpeOing -the DramirtiA: AStkm^ 

wjiich, I ddiveredcDt tl)e firft Lecture upon Tra^ 

'fi 3 gcdy. 



jlf^; l^eldiig^Uqually to Comedy ; and <Iienfce) tEx t^ 
df ifco*irf*y 'our 4i^uifitions conberhing it «e' ^^^"^ 
iiiiifrteR^i^:' Iritis e^alty nec^flary to both fhd^' 
IbdUfi!^ Df^ttiktic €6^[^^ that iheve bo & 
pVOfieip^ii^lr^ of ^fHotiand fubje^V'thM the lani^ 
tittir of ^tkbo^iuifd'pliacse^'bely^^^ poffibli^ 

pftifeilved^ 'that {i^J Ithat^«h9e tibe of^ the a3;ion! 
btt*)ivo)6g4ttii«t«Hid' I'cialbMblci boand&p atid^lioi 

dl^fl|^4hO'^uiifeof oach^ AiS; ^that tkefevorali 
S^«^fWi^ceffl\^ cotU^e^ cbdft|tropetfy 
lilik«d4(0^her • ihat? ihe Sfe^e boinet^r tdCally^ 
eVttCuiit^d'ifiil^ tho -A^ isM^s ; aiid «hait /the: 
ii9|£»(lh<ytUd^iq>^o^t^ii9i'^^ the^peHbna^^. 
^ho fili JUfi t6edi^r^flM<8cilfies^eDter and goioff 
th^Sjl}igi$^ia(|{ltlie^<Sriiiij *w^ arie imade to 

(Ao fo; /idn)0>(bope>bfqaU vtbe% rules^* I (fiioyred^ 
titoltoi^^if^ tliis'imitatibif sts.iitorias; poi&ble t6> 
jJlobalMilDfiv t\0iifcbi6 sdwltys^teeflary^ in order 
W-wt^ itahskim ^' giving* c ds^ ^ ^l^urisi > i I ^ Tbi^ 
Mfllfiiii^>ii'^4^ii^s^vp6thajp0^^ a "ftriiSlepnobl^nrEBce^ 
of ^tli&: Mumkii^ >pfde6)ih« Cbniiedy, i thaivfi^'jTva^ 
gi^y.tu^oti tih($ adi!ilM<of Comedy h^ff^tAott^ 
^miliftl^ ti^il«r«ha»-«hat>ofl IVa^y^iinoreliko 
JiOiat' W0 tUftb^acedftomdS^tbJ fee ^^ia^ ciorqiflM^ii' lifej 
ivoijacitgd^i»oi^<«^y'Of)'^hat !&' pfrobable, and 
We mt>i^ ifttM by tbe moxkt of it. The< prdbabl^ 
and^tite^ijatuiral^ 'both'in ihe condudt Of the 
itoFy,:at)d'ln the charaiglerti and fentim^s of Uie 
perfens who Qre introduced^ are* the great foun- 
dation^' it ipuil ^always be remembered^; of the 
fD^hold beautyi of Comedy, i : '• 

K • • • •» 



^°^, camtty w to wy ^e»: Tfee Xrigi* Poet vMyhil 
lUfii Soene 19 .whatev^ region he ple^f^^ <rEe 
may £orm hi^ fyh)^] iipw. the .hiftoQrv e^tbm <^ 
hi^own* pr of afomign.icpuiitry} wd.heiiiay 
take it from >wy perip^ that 19 agreeaU^ to Im^ 
however remote in tkae, T^ reverfe of thift 
holds in Comedy^ for Adear and c^WKoreaibOr 
Iiirthe.^at vicfitfi^ great viiitiMffii ayi^Mgih.^p^^ 
fiwiBf torn of all ccmntfie^ . and agea nd^iMkh^ 
one jasKither i ajod ami^M^sefote eqpially fidye^. 
for the Tragic Mufe#: .Slut thofe dei;9niliH(/iQf 
behaviour, t^fe lefl!^ d^riminatjons of cha^ 
ra£ber» whichafibrd fufa^e^ fiMTjComedyy change 
with the difieren(^8i^coniitiiefi:aiMltime»4 and 
can never be fo wreil .iuderftoiod hgr. fprtignerSf 
1^ by .oDiatives. We .weep* for; the^Jleroes of 
Greece ;and Rome, jaa freely M jure i^ iotjihob 
of our <>wn country: but we aise toudied;;inth 
tiici iHdicule of fiich manniears and.fiieh eharac-' 
ten only, aa we fee and know ;• jan4* therefi»ce 
thefc^e and.ful^e^t of Comedy flioiild.alftaya 
be laid iH our own countryt and; in pur jown 
timesp The Comic Poet»^ who ain» afc conreft^ 
ing impcQ|irieties and follies of behaviour^ ihould 
lludy ^< to catch the manners living aathc|yxife.?' 
It is not his bufinefi to amufe us with a tale of 
the laft age, or with a Spanifli or a FxeiXdi in# 
trigue ; but to give us pi&ures taken from i^nong 
ourfelves ; to fittirize reigning and prefent vices ; 
to exhibit to thS Bge a faitblul copy of iti^, 
with its humours, its follies, and its extraii^- 
gancies. It is only by laying his plan in th^ 

10 manner^ 



\ 



iHttimert tbi^ hd ean add weight and dignity to % fi &Ti 
the entetCaiafilent which he gives us* FlautujSy ^^ 
itifttJTue, end Tevence^ did not follow this nke^ 
They laid the icene t£ their Gomedied i» Orwce^ 
aAd edo)pted the Oi?6ek lews and cuftoms; Butr 
it muft be remembered^ that Comedy was, in 
th^ir 9gef but a. new entertainmerit in Rome^ 
and that then they contented themfelveit witk 
imitating, often with tranflating merely, the Ce^ 
nue^ltes of Henander^ atid other Greek Writers; 
In aftertimes^ it.is knowfo that the Romans had 
the ^^ Comoedia Tegata,'* or what was foundeil 
on their own manners, as well as the ^* Cbmce<^a 
^ Palliata/' or \diat was taken from the Greeks^ 

CoKEDY may be divided into two kinds ; Co^i^ 
medy of ChacaAer,. and Comedy of intrigue* 
In the latter^ the ploty or the aftion of the Play^^ 
is made the principal objed« In the farmer, the 
difplay of fintie peculiar ehara^er is chief^ 
aimed at i the aftion is contrived altogether 
with a view to this end ; knd is treated as lub» 
ordinate to it. The French abound moll in 
ComediM of Charafter. AH Moliere's capital 
pieces are oi this Ibrt } his Avare, for inftance, 
Mi(anthitope,Tartuffe; andfuchareDeftouches's 
1^, and thofe of the other chief French Cocie- 
dians. The Engliih abound more in Comedies 
of Intrigue* In the Plays of Congreve, and, in 
general, in all our Comedies, there is much mor» 
ftery, more buftle and aftion, than on the 
French Theatre. 



• V 



tN 



33^ 



Yi 



h SCT. Ik order to give this fort of G6mp6^imiti 
^^^, proper advantage, fliefe two kinds ibould be pnji* 
perly mixed tc^ther. Without ifome hiterdU 
ii^ and/ welUcondu6ted ftoiy, meiii oonveiVktibd 
iniapt to b^oonieinfipid./ /There fhmld be i4^ 
iprays 83 much iiitrigue, las tdigive CIS iamething 
to wifli, and finnetliingttofear.' The incidents 
ftould ib iiiceeed) one anothef^ as to produce 
ftriking fituationjs^iaiid. tOiifix. oui^ attention} 
yd^ile tbey afibrd at thfe ian^e iinieia l^oper ^fietd 
£)r; the 'exhibition of cbaifafter.ji Eoctbe Poet 
mv^ never fergeib^ that to Bi^bltcSiarai&drs'and 
mannei^s is his ^principal .oh)e6L:>i Tlve a^ion' 
in €QO(led}% if though* Jt dedubds:<hia tnai^i^'in' 
order to render it animated and natural, is a lefs 
ii^ific4nt: and^' import ariti part ' of* the. perform- 
ance, tbitn the a&idn in . iXnigedy i ak in Ca> 
inedy, it is what men 0iy, and how they^beh^Ve, 
tl^fit draws our attention, irather than what they 
perform^ Of what theyjifufien Hence it is a 
great fault to overcharge it with too.mudiin* 
trigue, and thofe intricate; l^ianifli .plots; that 
were fafhionabli^ for. a wbiley carried on by peiv^ 
plexed. apartmejQftsy .^ark entries^ eiid di%uifed 
habits, are now juftly condemned and laid afide i 
for by fuch conduct, the. main^ u&.of(domedy 
was loft. The attention of the Spe£i:ators, in;-: 
Head of being diredjked towni^di^ : ainy idifplay of 
characters, was fixed upon the fiirprifing tariis 
ajid revolutions of the intrigue y antd? Comady \ 
was changed into a mere Novel J v. i ;i j. . 

In 



GQMBfibY. §35 

; iNitie m«is<gement of Charafters, oneof liid t e-ct- 
moft icfommethfiMUcts . of Comic Writers^ . is. the 
carrying, of ;fehem toQi &>* beyond iife< Wherever 
ridioulcf 4s cmi(^0ri}edi it i^ indeed extreth^ly di& 
ficul)t ito . hit the precife point wUere true lirif 
endSji A^ buffoonery begins^ When the Mifer^ 
for ipil^ncev in Flautu^^ fearching.th€r perfini 
whqoirhe' fufpe6tsi fyt having :ilolen his cafket^ 
af)^r ;examining firfl his^ right hajid, and theni 
his left, cries- out^ " oftende etiam tertiam^*?* 
** fjbeiie me your third* h^nd'* (a ftroke too which 
Moliere hasi Q0j>ied fn^m him), there is. no one 
but muil be fenSl>Je of theextnivagancei . Cer- 
tain degrees of -cpcagg^er^tion. aremUawed to itm 
Comedian ; but, there ape Umits fet to it by nak 
ture and good tafte ; and fupppiing the Mifec 
to be ever fo much engrotfed by his jealoufy audi 
his fufpicions, it is impoffible to conceive any 
man in his wits fufpe^ing another of having 
more than two bands. ■'■.•■ = « ^^^ 

• • . ■ . •• • ' ■'' •-■■") 
Characters in Coinedy ought to be clearity 
diiling^iihed froip one another; but.the arti& 
cial coptrafting of char^6i:ers^ and the^ intro^ 
ducipg them always in pa^irs,. and by oppofites, 
give ;ttQP theatrical and i^eSed an air to the 
Piece*. This is become tOQipoiQmon a.refource 
' of Comic. Writers, in order .to heighten their 
chara6iers,. and difplay th^piv to rnqri^ adtrantigea 
As foon^ the .yiolent and impatient pe^jfim'ar^ 
rives upon tlie Stage^ the 3pe<9:ato)r :kno^s ;tbatr 
in the nfxt fcene^ he is to be contr^^^edi with> 
th^mildan^ good-natured man; or if /ooel jof 

the 



k 



t^L^cr; thie ]ov»r8 inti^tiG^ be ttmwtToMy giiy ind 
^ **" «if7» we am fiire that >hk cmi^iiioii i» to be d 
grave and ferioui lorer i^ Uke^ Fraiddy ttiil Beh 
Uthy^ Clarinda and Jacititbai in Dr. Hoadly'd 
Sufpicious HuibancL Such produ6tion of Chu* 
lafters by pairs, is like the eiriploymeat of the 
%Qre Antithefis in DikoutHe^ which, m I for^* 
merly obferved^ give^ brilliancy indeed upon oc^ 
cafions, but is too apparently a rhetorical atti- 
fice# In every fort of compofition, the perfec- 
tion of art is to conceal art. A mafterly Writer 
will therefore give us his chara6ters,di(lingui(hed 
rather by fuch fliades of diverfity as ar^ eom*^ 
monly found in Society, than marked with fbch 
ftroi^ oppofitions, as are rarely brought into 
a6lual contraft^ in any of the circumftances of 

Tkb Style of Comedy ought to be pure, ele- 
gant, and lively, very feldom riling higher than 
the ordinary tone of polite converfation ; and, 
upon no occafion, defcending into vulgar, mean, 
and grofs expreilions* Here the French rhyme, 
which in many of their Comedies they hzvt pre« 
ierved, occurs as an unnatural bondage. Cer- 
tainly, if Profe belc^gs to any Compofition 
whatever, it is to that which imitates the con* 
veriktion of men in ordinary life. One of the * 
moft difficult circumftances in writing Comedy, 
and one too, upon which the fuccefs of it very 
much depends, is to maintain, throughout, a 
current of eaQ^, genteel, unaflre6i:ed dialogue, 
pertnefs and flippancy^ Without too 

much 



ANTIENT COMEDY. 357 

much ftudied and unfeafonable wit ; without L E c T. 
duUnefs and formality. Too few of our EngliCh ^^^^^ 
Comedies are diftinguiflied for this happy turn 
of converfation j mod of them are liable to one 
or other of the exceptions I have mentioned. 
The Carelefs Hufband, and, perhaps, we may 
add the Provoked Hufband, and the Sulpicious 
Huiband, feem to have more merit than moil of 
them, for eaiy and natural dialogue. 

These are the chief obfervations that occur to 
me, concerning the general principles of this 
^ecies of Dramatic Writing, as diflinguifhed 
from Tragedy. But its nature and Q)irit will be 
Hill better underftood, by a fliort hiftory of its 
progrefs j and a view of the manner in which it 
has been carried on by Authors of different 
nations. 

Tragedy is generally fuppofed to have been 
more antient among the Greeks than Comedy. 
We have fewer lights concerning the origin and 
progrefs of the latter. What i3 mofl probable, 
is, that, like the other, it took its rife acciden- 
tally from the diverfions peculiar to the feafl of 
Bacchus, and from Thefpis and his Cart ; till^ 
by degrees, it diverged into an entertainment 
of a quite different nature from folemn and he* 
roic Tragedy. Critics diflinguifh three flages 
of Comedy among the Greeks j which they call 
the Antient, the Middle, and the New* 

VOL. III. ■ z ■ The 



330 



COMEDY. 



I. E c T. IBfeiirW ptdmBtrTnaent!5T!^6^ 
^^\ rums of focial behaviour, and, above all, to 
render vice ridiculous, is doing a real fervice to 
the world. Many vices might be more iucce& 
folly exploded, by employing ridicule againft 
them, thm by f^nouB^aita^ 
At the aiie4^, W ifiblr 1*B tditfeffled, that 
ridicule is av inilrument of fuch a nature, that 
whj^n managed by nnfj^yful. or improper hands, 
there is hazard of its doing mifchief, inflead of 
good to fociety. For ridicule is far from being. 




.TD3 a 



and feduce, by the colours which It throws upon 

J?fi9P!»£#f ihw fit i§itP) diflingMitf^ jbetwetiif firajae 
^ut^;«yi ^rro;^^ji:J4^ thercrfwft 

f^itJ^CQxp,}csf^9 Iwve'tq^^^teiJibftdJCiin jbherr 
j^Gkvei; r jtp. c»iV ; » . ri4|culj^; j nppvkii^Bvefi^B i f aiid 
pi^e^,wJ^ifih did not (fefecve^it. itiftutiihisJsjji; 
•feujtj j]|^t;p^iqg to the ndtjiBe jrf;:C0irifedy, !but 
$e;ti^Q,genitts.and turn ofilbci Wyitomofdt: Jh 
i^^ hiaid9 f^iiiloofe, immiotral Ajbifdior^c^ 
1^. mifl^tid^/ an4 coi!ruptl wbile^: in ^Ao£eo£.A 
virtuous and welUintentioned oqeiiit will be not 
only a gay and innocent, but a laudable and 
uiefaliOnteitaipmeQt. *Fr«nch Com^dy^isao ex- 
p^Uentfphool of ipanoerp;. while £ngli(h>Comed7 
jbi9$ bi^eu, too often the fehool of vice»i 

; Thjb . rules refpeiaiDg rtbe^ Pi:amAti0[ AiStiony 

^Khidxl ddiv^edvo; tl^e firfl Le^tiir^ upon Tra-« 

Hi . ' 3 gedy. 



jgfcdyi "tifeleiigi^equally to Comedy ; atid 'henfce, J-ex: tj 
<)fikmrfii '6\it' ^^^^ cmbettiing it $if& ^^umc 

SiAktemiiv^Htik e^lalty nec^flary to both theife' 
IbHIMl^Dt^ltiktic €6^c^^ that there b^ ft 

]mj{>eirfii^v^ of ^£H<Hi and fiibjeigi;^ thstt the isniv 
tittif of ^ tUb^ Mfd'plac^jbel^< >a^ «i4^ as poffibli^^ 
pf^feiK^d^ thut {tfj ithat>«li^ tibe of< the aa:i0ti! 
btt^bMi&giMit(^Hiii' i^ealbmablct bonnds^'P aiiditlia! 
phtQer Wtf«li6fciOiy »6V^|iit^i3ged/ M }e$ft^IliMl 
dil^ll|^4h6^^uilfeof M^hi Aa ;- thattkefeveralt 
Sh^&^6t^i§lHceSi^ ^f^etAiiikfm cbe»|»rq>effy 
Hnkliditifiij^her ; that? ihe Stdtge bemev^r tcffiatly 
enrticudtedrifiil the 'A(Sb ekkfes; and «hait i«he: 
rQ|£nl:ihO!iUd^«^^eaiit& q^'>'w^ the perfonages^. 
^ho fiU^ifttbef difliirtaM<8cilae9^eDter lEind goioff 
ih'&^lfiig&ii^lfb^^ttdmh^itiey are imade to 
ifo fi» /fda%e>(bope)'bfqaU vttef<f rule8^> I (fliowed, 
titoUdi4lil*]«^ th^'iimftatibif Qts.ntorias^ poffible t6> 
fbdlfabilfiyiv ^\t4iicbi6 stlifhysmteeflary^ in order 
MM tti^ ittdiskitm ^'givingfc nb^^^lciaAirei >i^iThis! 
MttiaKHi'^4^ii^s^vpefhap0^ a ilridkern^^ 
oftk&^lMttmkici'raleslih' Cbmietty^UhaivdQ'jrmur 
g«dy.<u(Foti tke adbjiita^tbf Gicmiedy beibg^nlo]^ 
ftioiltey fl^ilir«ha»i«hat^ofi IVagedy^iihorelikef 
fcftiaii W0 t«miM!<Hiftomell<tbi fee ^in' donmn^n' iifej 
S^^ijactgd^iaot^ieaiftly'Of^'wh^ i&- pfrobable, and 
kre mOite <lttrit by the m^tit of it. The< prdbabl^ 
shd^ti4&^iJatural^'$)oth'in the condudt Of the 
^(topyv'and'in the charaiSiers and fentinirats of the 
peri^ns tvho Qre introduced^ are« the great fouii« 
3ati^5 it rpuft iaiwayis be remembered^; of tho 
fifiiole foeaUtyiof^Comedy. i 



) 



^4o 



ANTIENT COISDT* 



L £ c T* in fiich a manner as to be fufficicntlj known. 
XLXIL Of ihcfe Comic Pieces we have no rpmains^ To 
them fiurceeded the New Comedr; when the 
Stage being obliged to defift whoDr firom per- 
ibnal ridicule, became, what it is now, the ]mc- 
tore erf* manners and chancers, but not <rf* par- 
ticular perfbns. Menander was the moft diftin- 
gttifhed Author of this kind among the Crreeks; 
and both from the imitations of him by Terence, 
and the account given of him bj Plutarch, we 
have much realbn to r^ret that his writings 
have periihed ; as he appears to have reformed, 
in a very high degree, the public tafte, and to 
have let the model of corred, el^ant, and moral 
Comedj. 

The only remains which we now have of the 
New Comedy, among the Antients, are the 
Plays of Plautus and Terence ; both of whom 
were formed upon the Greek Writers. I^autus 
is diftinguiflied for very expreffive language, and 
a great degree of the Vis Comica. As he wrote 
in an early period, he bears feveral marks of the 
rudencfs of the Dramatic Art, among the Ro- 
mans, in his time. He opens his Plays widi 
Prologues, which fometimes pre-occupy the 
fubjc£t of the whole Piece. The reprefentation 
too, and the a6lion of the Comedy, are fome- 
times confounded; the A6lor departing firom 
his character, and addrefling the Audience. 
There is too much low wit and fcurrili^ in 
Plautus ; too much of quaint conceit, and play 
upon words. But withal, he di^lays more va«. 

riety, 



ANTIENT COMEDY. 341 

riety, abd more force than Terence. His cha- L £ c T. 
rafters are always ftrongly marked, though fome. ^'^- 
times coarfely. His Amphytrion has been co- 
pied both by Moliere and by Dryden ; and his 
Mifer alfo (in the Aulularia), is the foundation 
of a capital Play of Moliere's, which has been 
once and again imitated on the Englifh ^Stage. 
Than Terence, nothing can be more delicate, 
more poliihed, and elegant. His Style is a mo- 
del of the pureft and moil graceful Latinity. 
His dialogue is always decent and corredi j and 
he poflefles, beyond mod Writers, the art of 
relating with that beautiful pi6i;urefque iimpli* 
city, which never fails to pleafe. His morality 
is, in general, unexceptionable.^ The iituations 
which he introduces, are often tender and in- 
tereiling ; and many of his fentiments touch the 
heart. Hence, he may be confidered as the 
founder of that ferious Comedy, which has, of 
late years, been revived, and of which I fhall 
have occafion afterwards to fp^ak. If he fails 
in any thing, it is in fprightlinefs and ftrength. 
Both in his Characters, and in his Plots, there 
is too much famenefs and uniformity throughout 
all his Plays ; he copied Menander, and is faid 
not to have equalled him^. In order to form a 

perfe6l 



^ Julius Cxfar has given ut his opinion of Terence^ in the 
following lines, which are preferved in the Life of Te? ence» 
afcribed to Suetonius : 

Ta quoque, tu in fummis, 6 dimidiate Menander> 
Foneris, ct merito, puri fermonis amator ; 

z 3 Lenibus 



34!» spAmsR c&uehv. 

L £ c T. perfe^ Comic Author, an unioo would bd t€- 
^^- quifite of the fpirit and fire of Plautus, with tht 
grace and corre&nefs of Terence* 

When we enter on the view of Modern Co- 
medy, one of the firft obje6ls which prefents it- 
felf, is the Spanifli Theatre, whicH has been re- 
markably fertile in Difamatic Prodei^ons. Lo- 
pez de Vega, Ouillin, and Caldeton, are the 
chief Spanilh Comedians. Lopez de Vega, who 
is by much the moft famous of th^m, is faid to 
have written above a thoufand Plays ; but our 
furprife at the number of his produ6tion!s will 
be diminilhed, by being informed of their na- 
ture. From the account which M. Perron de 
Caftera, a French Writ^, gives of them, it would 
feem, that our Shakefpeare is perfeftly a regular 
and methodical Author, in eomparifon of Lo- 
J)ez. He throws iiflde all regard to the Three 
Unities, or to any of the eftabliihed forms crf 
Dramatic Writing. One Play often includes 
many years, nay, the whole life of a man. The 
Scene, during the flrft A^, is laid in Spain, the 
next in Italy, and the third in Africa. His Plays 
lure moftly of the hiftorical kihd, fduniled on the 
tonds of the country ; and they trfe, generally, 
a fort of Tragi-comedies ; or a mixture of He- 
roic Speeches, Serious Incidents, War, and 



^ ' - ' '■< ' . ■ « ' ' It .1 vm * j ' l ** * /" ' ■» * I ' »' >| 'i ■*. 



lietiibiis atqu6 utiftiiiii fctipth adjnnda f6r«t vis 
Comicay ut xquato virtus poDeret hbnore 
Cum Graecis, neqwe ifl h^c defpcftus p^rte jaceres ; 
Unum hoc macerbr, jet dofeotibi fleeffe. TerentL 

. .'if . 1 *■ ':• 

Slaughter, 



FRENCH COMEDY. 343 

Slaughter, with much Ridicule and Buffootiery. L E c T, 
Angels and Gods, Virtues and Vices, Chriftian J^^^ * ^ 
Religion, and Pagan Mythology, are all fre- 
quently jumbled together. In fliort, they are 
Plays like iio other Dramatic Compofitions ; full 
of the romantic and extravagant. At the fittme 
time, it is generally admitted, that in the Works 
"of Lopez de Vega, there are frequent marks of 
genius, and much force of imagination ; many 
Well-drawn characters ; many happy lituations ; . 
many ftriking and inteifefting furprifes; and^ 
from the fource of his rich invention, the Dra- 
matic Writers of other countries are laid to have 
frequently drawn their materials. ^ He himfelf 
apologifes for the extretiie irregularity of lirs 
Compofition, from the prevailing tafte of his 
countrymen, Who delighted in a variety of 
events, in ftrange and furprifing adventures, 
and a labyrintli of intrigiles, much more than 
in a natural ahd regularly condu6ted Stoiy. 

The general characters of the French Comic 
Theatre are, that it is corl-eft, chafte, and de- 
cent. Several Writers of confldferable note it 
has produced, fuch as Regnard, Dufrefny, Dan- 
court, and Mkrivaux } but the Dramatic Authbt 
in whom the Frfench glory mod, and whom they 
juftly place at the h^ad of all their Comedians, 
IS the famoufe Mofit^e. There i% indeed, no 
Author, in all the fruitful and diftinguifted age 
of Louis XIV. who has attained a higher repu- 
tation than Moliere; or, who has more nearly 
reached the fumi!i|t^ perfection ift his own art, 1K 

z 4 according 



*•• 



344 FRENCH COMEDY- 

t E c T, according to the judgment of all the French 
^J^[j Critics. Voltaire boldly pronounces him to be 
the moil eminent Comic Poet of any age or 
country : nor, perhaps, is this the decilion of 
mere partiality ; for taking him upon the whole, 
I know none who deferves to be preferred to 
him. Moliere is always the Satirift only of vice 
or folly. He has feledled a great variety of ri- 
diculous characters peculiar to the times in which 
he lived, and he has generally placed the ridi- 
cule juftly. He poffeffed ftrong Comic powers ; 
he is full of mirth and pleaiantry ; and his plea- 
fantry is always innocent. His Comedies in 
Verfe, fuch as the Mifanthrope and Tartuffe, 
are a kind of dignified Comedy, in which vice 
is expofed, in the ilyle of elegant and polite 
Satire. In his Profe Comedies, though there is 
abundance of ridicule, yet there is never any 
thing found to offend a modeft ear, or to throw 
contempt on fobriety and virtue. Together 
with thofe high qualities, Moliere has alfo fome 
defefts, which Voltaire, though his profefled 
Fanegyrifl, candidly admits. He is acknow- 
ledged not to be happy in the unravelling of 
his Plots. Attentive more to the ftrong exhi* 
bition of characters, than to the conduCt of the 
intrigue, his unravelling is frequently brought 
on with too little preparation, and in an inqpro- 
bable manner. In his Verfe Comedies, he is 
fometimes not fufficiently interefting, and too 
full of long fpeeches ; and in his more riQble 
Pieces in Profe, he is cenfured for being too 
farcical. Few Writers, hpwever, if any, ever 

poflefled 



*-n-*-: 



ENGLISH COMEDY. 345 

poffefled the fpirit, or attained the true end of L E c T. 
Comedy, fo perfe6lly, upon the whole, as Mo- ^^^' 
liere. His Tartuffcj in the ftyle of Grave Co- 
medy, and his AvarCy in the Gay, are accounted 
his two capital produ6tions. 

From the Englifli Theatre, we are naturally 
led to expe6l a greater variety of original cha- 
rafters in Comedy, and bolder ftrokes of wit and 
humour, than are to be found on any other 
Modern Stage. Humour is, in a great meafure, 
the peculiar province of the Engliih nation. 
The nature of fuch a free Government as ours ; 
and that unreftrained liberty which our manners 
allow to every man, of living entirely after his 
own tafle, afford full fcope to the difplay of An- 
gularity of character, and to the indulgence of 
humour in all its forms. Whereas, in France, 
the influence of a defpotic court, the more 
eflablifhed fubordination of ranks, and the uni« 
verfal obfervance of the forms of politenefs and 
decorum, Ijpread a much greater uniformity over 
the outward behaviour and chara6lers of men. 
Hence Comedy has a more ample field, and can 
flow with a much freer vein in Britain, than in 
France. But it is extremely unfortunate, that, 
together with the freedom and boldnefs of the 
Comic fpirit in Britain, there ihould have been 
joined fuch a fpirit of indecency and licen- 
tioufnefs, as has difgraced Englifh Comedy be- 
yond that of any nation fince the days of 
Ariflophanes. 

The 



I 



346 ENGLISH COMEDY. 

L E c T. The firft age, however, of Englifh Comedy, 
,^^' was not infefiled by this fpirit. Neither the 
Plays of Shakefpeare, nor thofe of Ben Jonfon, 
can be accuied of immoral tendency. Shak^ 
Ipeare's general character, which I gave in the 
laft Lefture, appears with as great advantage in 
his Comedies, as in his Tragedies; a ftrong, 
fertile, and creative genius, irregular in condud;, 
employed too often in amufing the mob, but 
Angularly rich and happy in the defcription of 
characters and manners. Jonfon is more re- 
gular in the condu6l of his pieces, but ftiffand 
pedantic ; though not deftitute of Dramatic Ge- 
nius. In the plays of Beaumont and Fletcberj 
much fancy and invention appear, and feveral 
beautiful pafTages may be found. But, in ge« 
neral, they abound with romantic and impro- 
bable incidents, with overcharged and unnatural 
characters, and with coarfe and grofs allufions* 
Thefe Comedies of the laft age, by the change 
of public manners, and of the turn of con ver&- 
tion, lince their time, are now become too o\h 
rt.:, folete to be very agreeable. For we muft ob- 

ferve, that Comedy, depending much ofi the 
prevailing modes of extertial behaviour, becomes 
fooner antiquated than any other ipecies of 
writing ; and, when atitiquated, it feems harfli 
to us, and loies its power of pleating. This is 
efpecially the cafe with refpedt to the Comedies 
of our own coutitiy^ where the change of man- 
ners is more fenfible and ftriking than in any 
foreign production. In our own country, the 
prefent mode of behaviour is alwavs the ftandard 

''of 



£HGLI£H COMESV. 



-•*■ 



347 



of politeneiS ; and whatever departs from it hp^ L B c T. 

pears uncouth ; whereas in the Writings of fo- ^-•^^^ 

feigners, weare lefa acqudnted with any ftandard 

of this kind,' and of courfe are lefs hurt by the 

want of it. Plautus appeared more antiquated 

to the Romans, in the age of Auguftus^ than 

he does now to us. It is a high proof of Shake* 

fpeare's uncommon genius, that* notwithftand- 

ing thefe di&dvantages, his cl)ara£ter of Falftaff 

is to this day admired^ and his ** Merry Wives 

of Windfor*' read with pleafure. 

i . ... ! . 

It was not till the aera of the Reftoration of %- 

King Charles 11. that the licentioufnefs which.. 
was obferved, at that period^ to infect the court, 
and the nation in general, feized, in a peculiar 
manner, upon Comedy as its. province, and, for \ : 
aimoft a wlvde century, retained paffeffion of it« 
It was theniirft, that the Rake became the pre- 
dominant chara6ler, and, with fome exceptions^ 
the Hero of every Comedy. The ridicule was 
thrown, not upon vice and folly, but much more 
commonly upon chaftity and fobriety./'At the 
end of the Play, indeed, the Rake is cpmrnonly, 
in appearance, reformed, and profeffes that he 
is to become a fober man ; but throughout the 
Piay, he is fet up as the model of a 6ne gentle* 
man ; and the agreeable impreflion made by a 
fort of fprightly licentioufnefs, is l^ft upon the ^ 
imagination, as a picture of the pleafurable en- 
joyment of life ; while the reformation pafTes 
flightly away, as a matter of mere form* ' To 
what fort of moral condudt fuch public enter- 
tainments 



348 ENGLISH COMEDY. 

I. B c T. tainments as thefe tend to form the youth of 
i^ both fe«*. may be «U«y imagined. Yet tbi. 
has been the fpirit which has prevailed upon the 
Comic Stage of Great Britain , not only during 
the reign of Charles ILbut throughout the reigns 
of King William and Queen Anne, and down to 

the days of King George II. 

« 

■ 

Dryden was the firft confiderable Dramatic 
Writer after the Reftoration ; in whole Come* 
dies, as in all his works, there are found many 
ilrokes of genius, mixed with great car^leflhefi, 
land vifible marks of hafly compofition. As he 
fought to pleafe only, he went along with the 
manners of the times ; and has carried through 
all his Comedies that vein of diflblute licentiouf' 
nefs, which was theii fafhionable. In fome of 
them, the indecency wasfo grofs as ^o occafion, 
even in that age, a prohibition of being brought 
upon the Stage*. 

Since his time, the Writers of Comedy, of 
greateft note, have been Cibber, Vanburgh, 
Farquhar, and Congreve. Cibber has written a 



♦ ** The mirth which he excites in Comedy will, perhaps, be 
<< found not fo much to arife from any original humour, or 
^ peculiarity of chara6ler, nicely diftinguiihed, and diligently 
*< purfued, as from incidents and circumftances, artifices and 
^< furprifes, from jefts ot adiion, rather than fentiment. What 
<< he had of humorous, or paflionate, he feems to have had, 
*< not from nature, but from other Poets ; if not always a pla- 
<* giary, yet, at leaft, an imitator.'* Johnson's Life of 
Dryden. 

great 



ENGLISH COMEDY. 349^ 

great many Comedies; and though, in feveral LECT. 
of them, there be much fprightlinefs, and a cer- ^^^* 
tain pert vivacity peculiar to him, yet they are 
fo forced and unnatural in the incidents, as to 
have generally funk into obfcurity, except two, 
which have always continued in high favour 
with the Public, " The Carelefs Hufband," and 
*' The Provoked Hufband.*' The former is re*- 
markable for the polite and eafy turn of the 
Dialogue ; and, with the exception of one in- 
delicate Scene, is tolerably moral too in the 
condu6l, and in the tendency. The latter, 
" The Provoked Hufband," (which was the 
joint production of Vanburgh and Gibber,) is, 
perhaps, on the whole, the bell Comedy in the 
Englifh Language. It is liable^ indeed, to one 
critical obje6lion, of having a double Plot : as 
the incidents of the Wronghead family, and 
thofe of Lord Townley's, are feparate, and in- 
dependent of each other. But this irregularity 
is compenfated by the natural charafters, the 
fine painting, and the happy ftrokes of humour 
with which it abounds. We are, indeed, fur- 
prifed to find fo unexceptionable a Comedy pro- 
ceeding from two fuch loofe Authors; for, in ^ . 
its general drain, it is calculated to expofe li- "^ '- 
centioufnefs and folly ; and would do honour to 
any Stage. 

Sir John Vanburgh has fpirit, wit, and eafe ; 
but he is, to the laft degree, grofs and indeli- 
cate. He is one of the mod immoral of all our 
Comedians. His « Provoked Wife*' is full of 

fuch 



«"i 






350 ENGLISH COMEDY. 

I E c T. fuch indecent lentiments and allufions, as ought 
^f-^*^^ ^ to explo.i j i: oiit cr all reputable Ibcietv. His 
" Relapie" Is eqj^ilr cemurable ; and thefe are 
his only two conii Jerable Pieces. Cangreve is, 
unqueftionably, a Writer of genius. He is 
lively, vntty, aiid Iparkling; full of character, 
and fidl of action. His chief fault as a Comic 
Writer is, that he overffows with wit. It is 
often introduced unfeaibnably ; and, almoft 
every where, there is too great a proportion of 
it for natural well-bred converfation *• Farqahar 
is a light and gay Writer j lels correft, and lefe 
fparkling than Congreve ; but he has more eafe, 
and, perhaps, fully as great a ihare of the Vis 
Comica. The two beft, and lead exceptionable 
of his Plays, are the *' Recruiting Officer,** and 
the " Beaux Stratagem." I fav the leaft ex- 
ceptionable; for, in general, the tendency <rf 
both Congreve and Farquhar's Plays is immoral. 
Throughout them all, the Rake, the loofe iiu 
trigue, and the life of licentioufnefs, are the 
objects continually held up to view ; as if the 
afTemblies of a great and poliihed nation could 
be amufed with none but vicious objects. The 
indelicacy of thefe Writers, in the female cha- 
racters which they introduce, is particularly re- 
markable. Nothing can be more awkward than 



* Dr. Johnfon fays of him, in his Life, that **• his perfonagei 
*' are a kind of intelle^ual Gladiators ; every fentence is ta 
*^ ward, or to ftrike ; the conteil of fmartnefs is never inter- 
<< mitted ; his wit is a meteori playing to and frop with adtBT' 
** nate corrufcations/' 

their 



ENGLISH COMEDY. 351 

their reprefentations of a woman o£ virtue and l K c T. 
honour. Indeed, there are hardly any female ^^^^^' 
chara6ler3 in their Plays, except two j women 
of loole principles, or when a virtuous charadter 
is attempted to be drawn, women of affected 
manners. 



The cenfure which I have now pafled upon 
thefe celebrated Comedians, is far from being 
overftraiaed or fevere. Accuftomed to the in- 
delicacy of our own Comedy, and amufed with 
the wit and humour of it, its immorality too 
eafily rfcapes our obfervation. But all foreign- 
ers, tW French elpeciaUy,. who are accuftcnned 
to. a better regulated and more decent Stage, 
(peak of it with furprife. and aftoniihment. Vol- 
taire, who is, affuredly, none of the moft auftere 
moralifts, plumes himfelf not a little upon the 
fuperioF bkiifeance of th€ French Theatre ; and 
fays, that the language of English Comedy is; 
the laaagij:age of debauchery, not of politene&. 
M.. Moralt,, in his Letters upon the French and 
Englifli Nations, afcribes the corruption of man- 
ners in London to Comedy, as its chief caufe. 
Their Comedy, he lays, is like that of no other 
country ; it is the fchool in which the youth of 
both fexes familiarife themielves with vice, which 
is never reprefented there as vice, but as mere 
gaiety. As for Comedies, fays the ingenious 
M. Diderot, in his obfervations upon Dramatic 
Poetry, the Englifh have none ; they have, in 
their place, fatires, full indeed of gaiety and 
force, but without morals, and without tafle ; 

fam 



I i" 




/ 



thereibre, that Lord Kaons, hi Its n^ntaiu of 
Ciitidfizi, flioald hare expre^ed himfel^ upon 
tbis lbb2€^ c€ die indelicacT of EzigSfh Co- 
nedv, in terms mcch ^roczer than anv that 
I have nfed ; conclading tf* irrvedive agjainfL k 
in thefe wc«^: " How odfoos oaght th<^ 
•• Writer? to be, who thus ipread infedion 
^ tfarougfa their native coantrr ; employing the 
^ talents which thev have received firom their 

m 

^ >Iaker mofl tiaitoroafly againft TTimfrH^ br 
^ endeavouring to corrupt and di^jgiire his 
^ creatores. If the Comedies of Congreve did 
^ not rack him with remorfe in his laft mo- 
^ ments, he muft have been loft to aD foiie of 
*• virtoe."* VoL II. 479. 

I A3f happj, however, to have it in m j power 
to obfer\'e9 that, of late jears, a ienfible refor- 
mation has b^un to take place in Englifh Co- 
medy. We have, at laft, become afliamed of 
making our public entertainments reft wholly 
upon profligate charaders and fcenes ; and our 
later Comedies, of any reputation, are much 
purified from the licentioufiiefs of former times. 
If they have not the ipirit, the eale, and the 
wit of Congreve and Farquhar, in which relpeA 
they muft be confefiTed to be fbmewhat defi- 
cient ; this praife, however, they juftly merit, 
of being innocent and moral. . 

For this reformation, we are, queftionlefs, 
much indebted to the French Theatre, which 

15 has 



fiNGLISH COMEDY. 353 

has not only been, at all times, mare chafte and L E c T. 
inofFenfive than ours, but has,, within thefe few ^^' 

years, produced a fpecies of Comedy, of ftill a 
graver turn than any that I have yet mentioned. 
This, which is called tlie Serious, or Tender 
Comedy, and was termed by its oppofers, La 
Comedie Larmoyantej is not altogether a modern 
invention. Several of Terence's Plays, as the 
Andria, in particular, partake of this chara6ler; 
and as we know that Terence copied Menander, 
we have fufBcient reafon to believe that his Co- 
medies, alfo. Were of the fame kind. /The na- 
ture of this compofition does not by any means 
exclude gaiety and ridicule; but it lays the 
chief ftrefs upon tender and interefting fitu^- 
ations; it aims at being fentimental, andtouch^ 
ing the heart by means of the capital incidents ; 
Mt makes our pleafure arife, not fb much from 
the laughter which it excites, as from the tears 
of affedlion and joy which it draws forthy 

In Eiiglifh, Steele*s Confcious Lovers is a 
Comedy which approaches to this charafter, and 
it has always been favourably recieived by the 
Public. In French, there are feveral Dramatic 
Compofitions of this kind, which poffefs con- 
fiderable merit and reputation, fuch as the 
« Melanide,*' and " Prejuge a la Mode," of 
La Chauflee ; the « Pere de Famille,*' of Di- 
derot ; the " Cenie," of Mad. Graffigny j and 
the " Nanine," 'land " L'Enfant Prodigue/' of 
Voltiaire. 



VOL. III. 



A A When 



354 

LEGT. 
XLVII. 



ENGLISH COMEDY. 

When this form of Comedy firft appeared in 
France, it excited a great controverfy among the 
Critics. It was objected to as a dangerous and 
unjustifiable innovation in CompofitioD. It is 
not Comedy, faid they, for it is not founded on 
laughter and ridicule. It is not Tragedy, for it 
does not involve us in forrow. By what name 
then can it be called ? or what pretensions hath 
it to be comprehended under Dramatic Writing ? 
But this was trifling, in the moH egregious man- 
ner, with critical names and diflin6iions, as if 
thefe had invariably fixed the effence, and 
afcertained the limits, of every fort of Compo- 
fition. Afluredly, it is not neceffary that all Co^ 
medies fhould be formed on one predfe model. 
Some may be entirely light and gay } others may 
be more ferious ; fome may be of a mixed na- 
ture ; and all of them, properly executed, may 
furnish agreeable and ufeful entertainment to 
the Public/by fuiting the different taj|es of 
men *• Serious and tender Comedy has no title 
to claim to itfelf the pofleflion of the Stage, to 
the exclufion of ridicule and gaiety. But when 
it retains only its proper place, without ufurp- 
ing the province of any other; when it is carried 
on with r^femblance to real life, and without 



* <* II y a beaucoup de tres bonnes pieces, ou il ne regne 
^< que de la gayete ; d'autres toutes ferieufes ; d'autres melan- 
" gees ; d'autres, ou Patten driflement va jufq'aux larmes. II 
" ne faut donner exclufion a aucune genre ; & fi Pen me de- 
" mandoit, quel genre eft le meilleur ? Je repondroit, celui qui 
*' eft le mieux traite.*' VoLXAitE- 

intro- 



ENGLISH COMEDY. 3^j 

introducing romantic and unnatural fituations, LECT^ 
it may certainly prove both an interefting and ^^^^' 
an agreeable fpecies of Dramatic Writing. If 
it become infipid and drawling, this mud be 
imputed to the fault of the Author, not to the 
nature of the Compofition, which may admit 
much livelinefs and vivacity/ 

In general, whatever form Comedy aflumeS, 
whether gay or ferious, it may always be efteemed 
a mark of Society advancing in true politeneis, 
when thofe theatrical exhibitions, which are de- 
iigned for public amufement, are cleared from 
indelicate fentiment, or immoral tendency. 
Though the licentious buffoonery of Ariflo- 
phanes amufed the Greeks for a while, they ad-^ 
vanced, by degrees, to a chafter and jufter 
tafte ; and the like progrefs of refinement may 
be concluded to take place among us, when the 
Public receive with favour. Dramatic Compo- 
iitions of fuch a (train and fpirit, as entertained 
the Greeks and Romans, in the days of Me- 
nander and Terence. 



A A a INDEX 



I N D E X 



TO THE 



THREE VOLUMES. 



0- The Numeral Letters refer to the Volume j 
and the Figures to the Pages. 



ACCENTS^ thrown farther back from the termination in the 

'^ Englifh than in any other language, i. 206. Seldom more 
than one in Englifli words, ii. 404. Govern the meafure of 
£ngli(h verfe, iii.97. 

AcbtlleSi his charader in the Iliad, examined, iii. 222. 

jialon^ much ufed to afliit' language in an imperfedk ftate, i. 122. 
And by ancient orators and players, 1 26. Fundamental rule 
of propriety in, ii.4i9. Cautions with refpedi to, ibid. In 
epic poetry, the requifites of, iii* 194. 

jiSsy the divifion of a play into five, an arbitrary limitation, 
iii. 284. Thefe paufes in reprefentation ought to fall pro- 
perly, 286. 

Adam^ his character in Milton's Paradife Loft, iii.*2l55. 

AddifoUi general view of his Eflay on the Pleafures of the Ima* 
gination, i. 49. His invocation of the mufe in his Campaign j . 
cenrured,'87. Blemifties in his ftyle, 244. 246. 264. £afe 
and perfpicuity of, 272. 274. 279. His beautiful defcrip- . 
tion of light and colours, 336. Inftance of his ufe of mixed 
metaphor, 358* Improper ufe of fimilies, 401. His gene- . 
ral charafter as a writer, ii. 37. CharaAer of his Spe^ator, 
54. Critical examination of fome of thofe papers, ^t- Re- 
marks on his criticifm of Taflb'd Amiata, iii. 124. note. His 
tragedy of Cato critically examined, 282. 296. 306. 312. 

AdjeSivesy common to all languages, i. 181 . How they came 
to be clafled with nouns, 182. 

A A 3 Adverbs f 



INDEX. 

ytJvfrhs^-the^r nature and ufe defined, i. 192. Importance of 

their pofition in a fentecce illoftrated, 243. 
JEtuld of Virgily critical examination of that poem* iii. 230. 

The fubte^, 231. Adion, 232. Is deficient in chara&en, 

233. I)iftnbution and management of the fubjed, 234. 

Abounds with awful aud tender (cenes, 236. The defcent of 

JEneat into hell, 237. The poem left unfiniflied by Virgil, 

134.238. 
JEfchimiy a comparifon between him and DemoftbeneSy ii. 183. 
JEfcbylujf bis cbara6ler as a tragic writer, iii. 315. 
JEtnat remarks on Virgil's defcription of that mountain, i. 82. 

And on that by Sir Richard Blackmore, 84. 
ytffeSatlottf the disadvantages of, in public fpeakhig, n. 422. 
jigejj four, peculiarly fruitful in learned men, pointed oat, 

• • • 

m. 3. 

Ahenjidey his comparifon between fublimity in natural and 
moral objeds, i. 60. note. Inftance of his happy allufion to 
figures, 335. Charader of his Pleafures of the Imagrioation, 
iii. 140. 

Alphabet of letters, the confiderations which led to the inveo- 
tion of, i. 150. Remote obfcurity of this invention, 152. 
The alphabets of different nations derived from one common 
fource, 153. 

Allegory f explained, i. 364. Antiently a &vourite method of 
conveying inftru^ions, 366. Allegorical perfonages im- 
proper agents in epic poetry, iii. 209. 260. 

Ambiguity in ftyle, whence it proceeds^ i. 243. 

Amplification in fpeech, what, i. 418. Its principal inftrument, 
thiJ* 

American languages, the figurative ftyle of, i. 131 . 329. 

Anagnorifisj in antient tragedy, explained, iii. 288. 

Annaljf and hiftory, the diftindion between, iii. 47. 

Antienti and modems diftinguiihed, iii. 4. The merits of an- 
tient writers are now finally afcertained, 5. The progrefs 
of knowledge favourable to the modems, in formincr a com« 
mrifon between them, 8. In philofophy and hiftory, 9. 
The efforts of genius greater among the antients* lo* A 
mediocrity of genius now more diffuied, 12. 

Aniitbefit in language explained, i. 408. The too frequent 
nfe of, cenfured, 409. 

Apofiropbcj the nature of this figure explained, i. 390. Fine 
one nrom Cicero, ii. 226. note. 

Arabian Nights' Entertainments, a chara&er of thofe talcs, 
iii. 71. 

Arabian poetry, its chara^er, iii. 88. 

Arbuthnoty chara6ler of his epiftolary writings, iii. 66* 

ArcbiteffurCf fublimity in^ whence it arifes, i. 59. The fooives 
of beanty io^ loi. 

Ar^mtMtif 



INDEX. 

Arguments, the proper management of, in a difcotirfey ii. 369. 
Analytic and fynthetic methods, 374. Arrangement of, 
376. Are not to be too much multmlied, 380. 

Artojloy charaAer of his Orlando Furiofo, iii, 73-251. 

Ariftotle^ his rules for dramatic and epic compoiitions, whence 
derived, i. 42. His definition of a fentence^ 238. His ex- 
tended fenfe of the term metaphor, 344. Chaia6ier of his 
flyle, ii. 12. 21. His inftitutions of rhetoric, 179. His 
definition of tragedy confidered, iii. 272. His obfervations 
on tragic charadters, 301. 

Ariflophanes^ chara6ter of his comedies, iii. 338. 

Arithmetical BgureSf univerfal chara6iers^ i. 150. 

Ark of the covenant, choral fervice, performed in the proceffion 
of bringing it back to Mount Sion, iii. 167. 

Armflrong^ chara6ter of his Art of preferving Health, iii. 140. 

^r/, works of, confidered as a fource of beauty, i. 100. 

Articles^ in language, the ufeof, i. 164. Their importance in 
the Englifh language illuftrated, 165. 

Articulation^ clearnefs of, neceffity in public fpeaking, ii. 404* 

AJfociationsj academical, recommended, ii. 441. Inftru6iions 
for the regulation of, 442. 

Athenians i antient, charaAer of, ii. 171. Eloquence of, 172. 

Atterhuryj a more harmonious writer than Tillotfon, i. 307. 
Critical examination of one of his fermons, ii. 310. Hia 
exordium to a 30th of January fermon, 353. 

Attici and Afiani, parties at Rome^ account of, ii. 193. 

Attthorsy petty, why no friends to criticifm, i. 43. Why the 
mod antient afford the moft ftriking inftances of fublimity, 
69. Muft write with purity to gain efteem, 210. 

B 

Bacon, his obfervations on Romances, iii. 70. 

Ballads, have great influence over the manners of a people, 
iii. 69. Were the firft vehicles of hiftorical knowledge and 
inftru6iion, 85. 

Bar, the eloquence of, defined, ii. 164. Why more confined 
than the pleadings before antient tribunals, 210. Diftinc- 
tion between the motives of pleading at the bar, and fpeak- 
ing in popular afiemblies, 246. In what refpedts antient 
pleadings differ from thofe of modem timesy 248. Inftmc- 
tions for pleaders, 251. 364. 

Bards, aiitient, the firft founders of law and civilization, iii* 85. 

Barroom, Dr., charadler of his ftyle, ii. 16. Charader of his 
fermons, 305. 

Beaumont and Fletcher, their chara6lers as dramatic poets, 
iii. 346. 

Beautj, the emotion raifed by, diftinguifiied from that of fub- 
limity, i. 92. Is a term of vague application, ibid. Co- 
lours, 94. Figure, ibid. Hogarth's line of beauty, and 

A A 4 line 



INDEX. 

line of grace, confidered, 96. Motion, 97. A landfcapft^ 
the moil complete aflemblage of beautiful obje^s, 98^ The 
human countenance, 99. Works of art, 100. The in- 
fluence of fitoefs and defign in our ideas of beauty, loi. 
Beauty in littrary compofition, 103. Novelty, 104. Imi- 
tation, 105. 

Bergerus^ a German critic, writes a treatife on the fublimity of 
Caefar's Commentaries, i. 66, 

Beritleyt Bifhop, cliaradler of his Dialogues on the Exiftence 
of Matter, iii. 60. 

Biography^ as a clafs of hiftorical compofition, charafierifed,. 
iii. 50. 

Blackmorcy Sir Richard, remarks on his defcription of Mount 
-£tna, i. 84. 

Blaciwally his charaAer as a writer, ii. 41. 

Botleauy his charaAer as a dida^ic poet, iii. 145. 

BoHngbroht inftances of inaccuracy in his ftyle, i. 258. 283.. 
A beautiful climax from, 277. A beautiful metaphor from, 
345. His general chara6ter as a politician and philofopher, 
347. His general cliara6ler as a writer, ii. 43. 438. 

Bombajl in writing, defcribed, i. 88. 

Bojfuy his definition of an epic poem, iii. 188. His account of 
the compofition of the Iliad, 189. 

Bojfuet, M., inftances of apoiirophes to perfonified objedts, in 
his funeral orations, i. 389. note. Conclufion of his funeral 
oration on the Prince of Conde, ii. 395. 

Britain, Great, not eminent for the ftudy of eloquence, ii. 204.. 
Compared with France in this refpedl, 206. 

Bruyere, his parallel between the eloquence of the pulpit and 
the bar^ ii. 280. note. 

Buchanan^ his charadler as an hiftorian, iii. 46. 

Building, how rendered fublime, i. 59. 



Cadmus, account of his alphabet, i- 153. 

C<f/2rr's Commentaries, the fly le of, chara6lerifed, i. 65. Is 

confidered by Bergerus as a flandard of fublime writing, 66. 

Inftance of his happy talent in hiftorical painting, iii. 39. note. 

His character of Terence the dramatift, 341 . note. 
Camoens, critical examination of his Lufiad, iii. 252. Con- 

fufed machinery of, 253. 
Campbell, Dr., his obfervations on Englifh particles, i. 178. note. 
Carmel, Mount, metaphorical allufions to, in Hebrew poetry, 

i"-i73-. 
Cqfimir, his charader as a lyric poet, iii. 134. 

Catajlrophe, the proper conduft of, in dramatic reprefentations, 

iii, 287. 
Caudina. Furcae, Livy's happy defcription of the difgrace of 

tjie^ R^man a; my there, iii. 36. 

- Celtic 



INDEX. 

CtkU language* its antiquity and chara6ier» i. 196. The re^ 
xnains of it» where to be found, ibid. Poetry, its chancer, 
iii. 87. 

Chora ffersf the danger of labouring them too nauch in hiftorical 
worksy iii. 42. The due requiiites of, in tragedy, 299. 

Chinefe language^ cbarader of, i. 124. And writing, 149. 

Chivalry 9 origin of, iii. 71. 

Chorus^ antient, defcribed, iii. 275. Was the origin of tra- 
gedy, 276. Inconveniences of, 278. How it might pro- 
perly be introduced on the modern theatre, 280. 

Chronology^ a due attention to, neceflary in hiftoric^l compo« 
fitions, iii. 24. 

Chryfojlom^ St., his oratorial chara6ier, ii. 202. 

Cibber^ his chara6ler as a dramatic writer, iii. 348. 

CicerOf his ideas of tafte, i. 20. note. His diliindion between 
amare and diligere, 227. His obfervation on ftyle, 240. 
Very attentive to the beauties of climax, 277. Is the mod: 
harmonious of all writers, 291. His remarks on the power 
of muiic in orations, 296. His attention to harmony too 
vifible, 306. Inftance of his happy talent of adapting found 
to fenfe, 308. His account of the origin of figurative lan- 
guage, 328. His obfervations on fuiting language to the 
lubje6t, 349. His rule for the ufe of metaphor, 352. In- 
ftance of Antithefis in, 408. The figure of fpeech called' 
vifion, 416. His caution againft beftowing profufe orna- 
ment on an oration, ii. 4. His didin^ons of ilyle, 10. His 
own chara£ier as a writer, 12. His charadter of the Grecian^ 
orators, 175. His own chara6ter as an orator, 190. Com- 
pared with Demofthenes, 194. Mafterly apoftrophe in, 226. 
note. His method of iludying the judicial caufes he undertook 
to plead, 252. State of the profecution of Avitus Cluentius,* 
261. Analyfis of Cicero's oration for him, 262. The 
exordium to his fecond oration againft Rullus, 347 . His me- 
thod of preparing introdudions to his oration, 350. £x-. 
celled in narration, 366. His defence of Milo, ibid. 379. 
Inftance of the pathetic in his laft oration againft Verres, 390. 
Charadter of his treatife De Oratore^ 445. Charadler of his 
Dialogues, iii. 59. His epiftles, 6^. 

Clarendon^ lord, remarks on his ftyle, i. 254. His chara6ler as 
an hiftorian, iii. 47. 

Clarke^ Dr., the ftyle of his fermons charadlerifed, ii. 304. 

Clafficsf antient, their merits not finally fettled beyond contro- 
verfy^ iii. 5. The ftudy of them recommended, 15. 

CUmaxy a great beauty in compofition^ i* 276. In what it 
confiib, 418. 

Cluentiuif Avitus, hiftory of his profecution, ii. 260. His caufe 
undertaken by Cicero, ibid. Analyfis of Cicero's oration 
for him, ibid. 

Coloursy conddeved as the foundation of beauty^ i. 94. 

Comedy, 



I N D E i/ 

Cdmedy, how diftingiii(hed from tragedy, iii. 269. 328. Rdei 
for the condu^ of» 331. The chanters in, ought to be of 
our own country, and of our own time, 332. Two kindi 
of, 336. CharaAers ought to be diftingtiifhed, 335. Styk, 
336. Rife and progrefs of comedy, 338. Spanift comedy, 
342. French comedy, 343. Englifh comedy , 345 . Liccn- 
tioufnefs of, from the aera of the reftoration, ibiJ. The re- 
formation of, to what owing, 354, General remarks* 35^ 

Compariforii diftinguifhed from metaphor, i. 342. The nature 
or this figure explained, 397. 

Compofition. See Literary compofition. 

CongrevCf the plot of his Mourning Bride embarraiTed, ni. 284. 
General charafier of this tragedy, 327. His comedies, 350. 

Conjugation of verbs, the varieties of, i. 187. 

ConviQionj diftinguifhed from perfuafion, ii. 162. 

Copulatives f cautions for the ufe of them, i, 265. 

Corneille^ his chara6ler as a tragic writer, iii. 319. 

Couplets^ the firft introduction of, into Englifh poetry, iii. lof 

Co*wleyj inftances of forced metaphors in his poems, i. 352. 
His ufe of fimilies cenfured, 405. His general cbaraderas 
a poet, iii. 134. 

Crevierf his character of feveral eminent French writers, ii, 436. 
note, 

Critici/mf true and pedantic, diftiRguiflied^ i. lo. Its objed, 41- 
Its origin, 42. Why complained of by petty authors, 43. 
May fometimes decide againft the voice of the public, 44. 

Cyphers, or arithmetical figures, a kind of univerfal charader, 
1. 150. 

D 

David, king, his magnificent inftitutions for the cultivation 
of facred mufic and poetry, iii. 165. His charadter as a 
poet, 182. 

Debute, in popular aifemblies, the eloquence of, defined, ii. 164. 
More particularly confidered, 216. Rnles for, 217. 

Declamation, unfupported by found reafoning, falfe eloquence, 
ii. 2i6. 

Declenfion of nouns confidered, in various languages, i. 172. 
Whether cafes or prepofitions were moft antiently ufed, 174 
Which of them are moft ufeful and beautiful, 1 76. 

Deities, heathen, probable caufe of the number of, 1-376. 

Deliberative orations, what, ii. 213. 

Delivery, the importance of, in public fpeaking, ii. 229. 397- 
The four chief requifites in, 400. The powers of voice, 
ibid. Articulation, 402. Pronunciation, 404. Cmphafis, 
405. Paufes, 408. Declamatory delivery, 417. Adion, 
418. Affedation,422. 

Demetrius, Phalerius, the rhetorician, his charafter, ii. 185* 

DemonJlratV^e orations, what, ii. 213. 

13 Demofibenes, 



IN D E X. 

DtmoJIbeneSf his eloquence charadlenzedy ii« 172. His expe- 
dients to furmount the disadvantages of his perfon and ad- 
drefs, 181. His oppofition to Philip of Macedon, 182. His 
rivalfbip with Efchines, 183. His flyle and a6iion, 184. Com- 
. pared with Cicero, 194. Why his orations ftiU pleafe in 
perufaly 217. Extracts from his Philippics^ 232. His 
definition of the feveral points of oratory, 397. 

Hefcriptiony the great teft of a poet's imagination, iii. 146. Se- 
ledtion of circumftances, 147. Inanimate obje6ts fhould be 
enlivened, 154. Choice of epithets, 157. 

Defcription and imitation, the diilin6iion between, i. io8. 

Des BroJftSy his fpeculations on the cxpreflive power of radical 
letters and fyllables, i. IT9. note. 

^Dialogue writing, the properties of, iii. ^(i» Is very difficult to 
execute, 57. Modern dialogues chara6kerized, thid. 

DtdaSic poetry, its nature explained, iii. 135. The mod cele- 
brated produdlions in this clafs fpecified, 136. Rules for 
compofitions of this kind, thidm Proper embellifhments of, 

Hideroty M., his chara£ier of Englifh comedy, iii. 351. 

Didof her charader in the ^neid examined, iii. 233. 

D'ton^us of HalicarnafTus, his ideas of excellency in a fentence, 
i. 293. His diftin6^ions of ftyle, ii« 9* Chara^er of his trea- 
tife on Grecian oratory, 178. His comparifon between Ly- 
iias and Ifocrates, 179. note* His criticifm on Thucydides, 
iii. 23. 

Difcourfe» See Oration* 

Dramatic poetry, the origin of, iii. 92. Diftinguiftied by its 
objects, 269. See Tragedy and Comedy , 

Drydeuy one of the firft reformers of our ftyle, ii. 19. Johnfon's 
character of his profe ftyle, 20. note. His chara£ler as a poet, 
iii. 104. Hischarafkerof Shakefpeare, 323. «o/^. His own 
cbarader as a dramatic writer,^ 326. 348. 

Du Boj, Abbe, his remark on the theatrical compofitions of the 
antients, i. 294. 

E 

Education^ liberal, an eflential requifite for eloquence, ii. 432. 

JEgyptt the ftyle of the hierographical writing of, i. 147. This 
an early ftage of the art of writing, iifid* The alphabet pro- 
bably invented in tliat country, 153, 

Emphqfisf its importance in public fpeaking, ii. 405. Rule for, 
407. 

Eloquence^ the feveral objedis of confideration under this head, 
ii. 159. Definition of the term, 160. Fundamental maxims 
of the art, 161 . Defiended againft the obje^ion of the abufe. 
of the art of perfuafion, 162. Three kinds of eloquence 
diftinguifhed, ibid. Oratory, the higheft degree of, the off- 
fpring of paffion, 164. Requifites for eloquence, 167. 

French 



INDEX. 

I 

French eloquence, i68. Grecian, 170. Rife and ch^ 
ra6ier of the rhetoricians of Greece, 173. Roman, 187. 
The Attici and Afiani, 193. Comparifon between Cicero 
and Demofthenes, 194. The fchools of the declaimed, 
200. The eloquence of the primitive fathers of the church, 
202. General remarks on modern eloquence, 203. Parlia- 
ment, 209. The bar, and pulpit, 210. The three kinds 
of orations diitinguifhed by the antients, 213. Thefe dif- 
tin<5lioR8 how far correfpondent with thofe made at prefect, 
214. Eloquence of popular aifemblies coniidered, 215. 
The foundation of eloquence, 216. The danger of truftiog 
to prepared fpeeches at public meetings, 219. Neceffary 
premeditation pointed out, 220. Method, 221. Style and 
expreffion, 222. Impetuofity, 224. Attention to decorums, 
227. Delivery, 230. 397. Summary, 230. See Cicfro, 
Demofthenes J Oration f and Pulpit. 

Efiglifh language, the arrangements of words in, more refined 
than that of antient languages, i. 139. But more limited, 
140. The principles of general grammar feldom applied to 
it, 159. The important ufe of articles in, 165. AH fub- 
llantive nouns of inanimate objefts, of the neuter gender, 
168. The place of declenfion in, fupplied by prepofitions, 
173. The various tenfes of Englifh verbs, 187, Hiftorical 
view of the Englifh language, 196. The Celtic the primi- 
tive language of Britain, 197. The Teutonic tongue the 
bafis of ourprefent fpeech, 198. Its irregularities accounted 
for, 199. Its copioufnefs, 200. Compared with the French 
language, 201. Its llyle charafterifed, 202. Its flexibihty, 
204. Is more harmonious than is generally allowed, ibid» 
Is rather ftrong than graceful, 205. Accent thrown farther 
back in Englifti words than in thofe of| any other language, 
ibid. General properties of the Englifh tongue, 206. Why 
fo loofely and inaccurately written, 207. The fundamental 
rules of fyntax, common to both the Englifh and Latin, 209. 
No author can gain efteem if he does not write with purity, 
210. Grammatical authors recommended, 21J. note. 

Epic poetry, the llandards of, iii. 14. Is the higheft effort of 
poetical genius, 187. The chara6iers, obfcured by critics, 
188. Examination of Boffu's account of the formation of the 
Iliad, ibid. Epic poetry coniidered as to its moral tendency} 
192. Predominant charadler of, 194. A^ion of, 195. 
Epifodes, 196. The fubje6t fhould be of remote date, 200. 
Modern hiftory more proper for dramatic writing than for 
epic poetry, 200. The ftory muft be interefting and fkil- 
fully managed, 201 . The intrigue, 202. The queilion con- 
iidered whether it ought to end fuccefsfully, 203, IDuration 
of the a6iion, 203. Charafters of the perfonages, 20J. 
The principal hero, 205. The machinery, 206. Narration, 
210. Loofe obfervations, 211. 

Epijodci 



INDEX. 

Epifodcy defined with reference to epic poetry, iii. 196. Rules 
for condudl of, 197. 

Epijlolary writing, general remarks on, iii. 61. 

Eve^ her charafter in Milton's Paradife Loft, iii. 265. 

Euripides i inftance of his excellence in the pathetic, iii. 310. 
note. His character as a tragic writer, 316. 

Exclamations^ the proper ufe of, iii. 413. Mode of their oper- 
ation, ibid. Rule for the employment of, 414. 

Exercife improves both bodily and mental powers, i. 22. 

Exordium of a difcourfe, the objefts of, ii. 344. Rules for the 
compofition of, 348. 

Explication of the fubjeA of a fermon, obfervation on, ii. 368. 



Faccy human, the beauty of, complex, i. 99. 

Farquhar^ his chara6ler as a dramatic writer, iii. 350. 

Father Sy Latin, chara6ler of their ftyle of eloquence, ii. 202 . 

Fenelon, archbifhop, his parallel between Demofthenes and 
Cicero, ii. 197. His remarks on the compofition of a fermon, 
359 . Critical examination of his Adventures of Telemachus, 
iii. 256. 

Fielding^ a charafter of his novels, iii. 76. 

Figurative ftyle of language defined, i. 3 16. Is not a fcholaftic 
invention, but a natural effufion of imagination, 318. How 
defcribed by rhetoricians, 319. Will not render a cold or 
empty compofition interefting, 322. The pathetic and fub- 
lime rejedl figures of fpeech, 324. Origin of, ibid. How 
they contribute to the beauty of ftyle, 330. lUuftrate de- 
fcription, 333. Heighten emotion, 344. The rhetorical 
names and claftes of figures frivolous, 337. The beauties 
of compofitions not dependent on tropes and figures, ii. i. 
Figures must always rife naturally from the fubjeft, 2. Are 
not to be profufely ufed, 4. The talent of ufing derived 
from nature, and not to be created, 6. If improperly intro- 
duced, are a deformity, 5. note. See Metaphor, 

Figure, confidered as a fource of beauty, i. 194. 

Figures of fpeech, the origin of, i. 129. 

Figures of thought, among rhetoricians, defined, i. 320. 

Fitnefs and defign, confidered as fources of beauty, i. loi. 

Fleece, a poem, harmonious paffage from, i. 313. 

Fontenelle, character of his Dialogues, iii. 60. 

French, Norman, when introduced into England, i. 197, 

French writers, general remarks on their ftyle, ii. 15. Elo- 
quencei 168. 203. French and Englifh oratory compared^ 
206. 

Frigidity in writing charaderifed, i. 88. 



Gtfy, 



r3FD E 




in me ag^ di2XL in 
rtitfntrfiy i^ 



4T. Li 







a£ 






-^5- 










Ortmmair^ gfffgfiri, the 




175- 

WrilendiiiB^, . ,^_ ^^ 

H 

Hahakkmkt fobliBe rmdinMadoB of the Dotj in, L 70. 
Harris f cxpbiiatory iisiie died from, i. 399. 

^T/^/tr Pm^i^^ « wlnt pomu o£ Tiew to be codUcicdy m. i6f. 
The astient pfOBSBCEinoD of, loft, 163. Miific snd pocby 
•anrfr cultivated aonoog the Hehrews, 164. CooHmffiDii of 
Hmew poetiy, 165. It diftu^oiihed hj a oondley fbcBg» 
i^rofatire exprefioB, 167. T%e metaphors cmplojed b^ 
faggefted fay the donate and natore of the land ot Jn ^ 
171-177^ Bold aad fohfine nftances ^ perfenificatias Bf 

178. 



INDEX. 

178. Book of Proverbs, 180. Lamentations of Jeremiah, 
ibiJ. Book of Job, 184. 
Hekrty her charader in the Iliad examined, iii. 220. 
Hellf the various defcents into, given by epic poets, (hew the 
gradual improvement of notions concerning a future date, 
iii. 257. 
Henriade, See Foltaire. 

Herodotus f his chara£ler as an hiftorian, ii. 11. 14. 
Herotfmf fublime inftances of, pointed out, i. 59. 
Her^oey, charafter of his ftyle, ii. 27. 
Hieroglyphics 9 the fecond ftage of the art of writing, i. 145. 

Of Egypt, 147. 
Hiftorlans, modem, their advantages over the antient, iii. 10. 
Antient models of, 13. The objeds of their duty, 17. 
Character of Polybius, 21. Of Thucydides, 22. Of He- 
rodotus and Thuanus, 24, 25. Primary qualities neceifary 
in a hiftorian, 26. Charader of Livy and Salluft, 28 . Of Ta- 
citus, 29. Inftru6kions and cautions to hiftorians, ibid. How 
to preferve the dignity of narration, 33. How to render it 
interefting, 34. Danger of refinine too much in drawing 
charader, 42. CharaSer of the Itdian hiftorians, 44. The 
French and Englifh, 46. 
Hi/lory 9 the proper objeA and end of, iii. 17. True, the cha- 
rad^ers of, ibid. The different clafles of^ 18. General Hif- 
tory, the proper condud of, 20. The neceffary qualities of 
hiflorical narration, 22. The propriety of introducing ora- 
tions in hiilory examined, 41 . And chara6kers, ibid. The 
Italians the bed modern hiflorians, 44. See Annals^ BiO" 
graphvf Memoirs 9 and Novels* 
Hogarth 9 his analyfis of beauty confidered, i. 96. 
Homer 9 not acquainted with poetry as a fyflematic art, i. 42 . 
Did not poffefs a refined tafte, 49. Inftances of fublimity in, 
71. Is remarkable for the ufe of perfonification, 381. Story 
of the Iliad, iii. 214. Remarks on, 2 15. His invention and 
judgment in the condu6k of the poem, 217. Advantages and 
defe6ks arifing from his narrative fpeeches, 220. His cha- 
ra6kers, ibid. His machinery, 222. His ftyle, 225. His 
(kill in narrative defcription, 226. His fimilies, 227. Gene- 
ral charader of his Odyffey, 279. Defefts of the Odyffey, 
230. Compared with Virgil, 237. 
Hooker 9 a fpecimen of his ftyle, ii. 18. 

Horace 9 figurative paffages cited from, i. 332. Inftance of 

mixed metaphor^ iii. 359. Crowded metaphors, 360. His 

charadier as a poet, iii. 14. 133. Was the reformer of 

fatire, 144. 

Humour, why the Englifh poffefs this quality more eminently 

than other nations^ ii. 349. 
Hyperbole^ an explanation of that figure, i. 368. Cautions for 
the ufe of» 369. . Two kinds oU 370. 

Ideas 



I N D E X. 

I 

Ideasy abilraf^, entered into the firil formation of language^ 
i. 163. 

Jeremtahy his poetical charafter, iii. i83. See L,amtntatiom. 

//fW, ftory of, iii. 214. Remarks on, 215. The principal 
charadters, 220. Machinery of, 222. 

ImaginaltoTiy the pleafures of, as fpecified by Mr. Addifon, 
i. 49. The powers of to enlarge the fphere of our pleafuni) 
a linking inilance of Divine benevolence, 51. Is the fource 
of figurative language, 318. 326. 

Imitation, confidcred as a fource of pleafure to tafte, i. lOJ. 
And defcription diilinguifhed, 108. 

Inferences^ from a fermon, the proper management of, ii. 395. 

Infinity of fpace, numbers, or duration, affe^ the mind with 
fublime ideas, i.54. 

Interje^ionsy the firft elements of fpeech, i. 116. 

Interrogations t inftances of the happy ufe and eflFeA of, i. 412. 
Mode of their operation, 413.- Rule for ufing, 414. 

Joby exempHfication of the fublimity of obfcurity in the book 
of, i. 57. Remarks on the ftyle of, iii. 164. ' The fubjcd 
and poetry of, 184. Fine paflage from, 185. 

John/on f his chara6ter of Dryden's profe ftyle, ii, 20. note. His 
remarks oil the ftyle of Swift, 134. note. His charaderof 
Thomfon, iii. 150. note- His charafter of Dryden's come- 

; dies, 348. note. His character of Congreve, 350. note, 

Jonfony Ben, his character as a dramatic poet, iii. 346. 

Ifausy the rhetorician, his charafter, ii. 179. 

Ifaiahy fublime representation of the Deity in, i. 71. His de- 
fcription of the fall of the Affynan empire, 393. His meta- 
phors fuited to the climate of Judea, iii. 172. 174, 175, 
His charader as a poet, 183. 

Ifocrates, the rhetorician, his charader, ii. 177. 

Judea, remarks on the climate and natural circumftances of that 
country, iii. 171. 

Judicial orations, what, ii. 213. 

Juvenal, chara6ter of his fatires, iii. 142. 

K 

Kaimes, Lord, his fevere cenfure of Engli/h comedies, iii. 352. 
Knight errantry, foundation of the romances . concemibg, 

"'•7*- ... ... 

Knowledge, an efrehtialrequifite for eloquence, ii. 431. The 

progrefs of, in favour ot the moderns, upon a comparjfoo 
with the antients, iii. 8. The acquifition of, dif$cult in for- 
mer ages, II. 

L 

Lamentations of Jeremiah, the moft perfefk elegiac conipofitio& 

in the facred Scripture8> iii. i8o* 
T'ondtcape^ coniidered as an affemblage of beautiful object, L 99* 



INDEX. 

Lanp^^gCf tlie improvement of^ fludied even by rude ationsy 
i. 2. In what the true improvement of language con- 
(iilsy 3. Importance of the ftudy of language, 4. Defined* 
ti2. The prefent refinements of, 113. Origin and 
progrefs of, 115. The firft elements of, 117. Analogy 
between words and things, 11 8. The great ailiflance aU 
forded by geftures, 122. The Chinefe language, 124. The 
Greek and Roman languages, 125* A£Uon much ufed by. 
antient orators and players, 126. Roman pantomimes, 127. 
Great difference between antient and modem pronunciation, 
128. Figtu-es of fpeech, the origin of, 129. Figurativf. 
ityle of American languages, 131. Caufe of the decline of 
figurative language, 133. The natural and original arrange* 
ment of words in fpeech, 136. The arrangement of words 
in modem languages, different from that of the antients» 
138. An exemplification, ibid* Summary of the foregoing 
obfenrations, 144. Its wonderful -powerSf 335. Au Ian*. 
gua?e flrongly tmdbured with metaphor, 34^. In modern 
proau6Uons, often better than the fubje^s of them, ii. 157. 
Written and oral, diftin£iion between, 437* See Gram^ 
matf Style, and H^riting-4 

Latin language, the pronunciation of, mufical and gefliculat- 
ing, i. 125. 294* The natural arrangement of words in, 
137. The want of articles a defe6k in, 165. Remarks on 
the words deemed fynonymous in, 227. 

Learmng, an effehtial requwte for eloquence, ii. 432. 

Lebanon f metaphorical allufions to, in Hebrew poetry, iii. 173* 

Lee, extravagant hyperbole quoted from, i* 37 1 • His charadker 
as a tragic poet, iii. 326JI 

Liberty 9 the nurfe of true genius, ii. 167. 

Literary compofition, importance of the ftudy of language, pre- 
paratory to, i. 6. The beauties of, indefinite, 103. Tp 
what cuds the pleafures received from eloquence, poetry, and 
fine writing, are to be referred, 106. The beauties of, not 
dependant on tropes and figures, ii. 2. The different kind^ 
of, diilinguifhed, iii. 16. See Hijiory, Poetry , &c. - , 

Livy, his cnara6ker as an hiflorian, iii. 28. 36. 

Lotke, general chara6^er of his ftyle, ii. 23. The flyle of his 
Treatife on Human Underflanding, compared with the 
writings of Lord Shaftefbury, iii. 56. * . 

Longinuif ftrif^ures on his Treatife on the Sublime, i. 67. His 
account of the confequences of liberty, ii. 167. His fenten- 
tious opinion of Homer's Odyffey, iii. 228. 

Lopez, de Vega^ his charadler as a dramatic poet, iii. 3424 

Lovef too much importance -and frequency allowed to, ^im the 
modem fta?e, iii. 303. 

Z,o«;/i&'8 En^fh Qrammar recommended, i. ziutiaH^ 26 j« 
note. His charader of the fMfophet Ezekiel, iii. iZt* 

Lncanf iaftance of Us deftromlg a fuUime expreffion of Crnbr, 

by amplificationy u j6» Extravagant bypedbob firoov ijS' 

VOIflCl. BB CritK»l 



N 



. -V 



I 

litai, ahftrafi, entered into the firil fomtation of languan, 
i. 1 63. 

Jeremiah, liis poetical chamber, iii. 1S3, See Lamealal'wni. 

ISaii, Story of, iii 214. Remarks on, 215. The principal 
cliaraitera, 220. Macliinciy ot", 222. 

Imaginallon, the pleafures uf, as Tpeeified by Mr. Addifon, 
i. 49. The powers of to enlarge the fphcre of our pleafum, 
a ftriking inlbnce of Divine bene vole net-, 51. la the fourw 
of figurative language, JiP, 32G. 

Imitation, confidered as a fource of plcafure to taftr, i. loj. 
And defcription diilinguifhed, 108. 

Inference!, from a fermon, the proper management of, ii. MJ. 

Injinily of fpace, numbers, or duration, affcft the mind with 
fublime ideas, i. 54. 

/n/fr;Vflion/, the firit elements of fpecch, i. 116- 

Interrngali'mi, inftances of the happy life and cfTeft of, i. 411. 
Mode of their operation, 413.- Rule for uling, 414. 

Js&, exemplification of the fublimily of obfcurity in the book 
of, i. 57- Remarks on the Ih-Ie of, iii. 164, The fobjta 
and poetry of, 184. Fine paOage from, 1S5. 

Johii/on, hi! charafter of Drydcn'G profe ftyle, ii, 20. note. Hii 
remarks oil the ftyle of Swift, 1 34. note. His charafter of 
Thomfon, iii. ijo. nalc. His charafter of Dryden's come. 

* dies, 348- note. His charafter of Congreve, jjo- note. 

■Jon/on, Ben, his charafter as a dramatic poet, iii, 346. 

.^*uj, the rhetorician, his charaftfi-, ii. 179. 

Ifaiah, fublime reprefentation of the Deity in, i. 71. His de- 
fcription of the fall of the Affyrian empire, 393. His meti- 
phors futted to the climatE: of Judea, iii. 172.174, 17J. 
His charader as a poet, 183. 

Ifoerates, il.e rhetorician, his chnrader, ii. 177. 

Judea, remarks on the climate and natural circujnftancet of dut 
country, iii. 17 1. _^ 

Judicial orations, what, 11.213. 

Juvenal, charader of his fatires, iii, 142. 



Kaimei, Lord, his fevere cenfure of Englifh comedies, iii. 35J. 
Knight errantry, foundatrcn of the romances eonceruitgi 

Knowledge, an efleiitial requifite for eloqut 

progrefs of, in favour of the moderns, upon a componfcoB 

with the antients, iit. 8. The acquifition of, difficult in fw^J 

mer ages, 1 1 . 

L 
LammKUiom of Jeremiah, the mod perfeft elegtacro 

in the facred Scriptureif iii. 180. 
Tandftapt, CDnfidercd U an aflemblage of beaatU 




INDEX. 

Language, tbe improvement ot, Jludird even by ruOf atittii*, 
i. 2. In what the true improvement of laiigiiagt,' eoii- 
filli, 3. Importance of the ftudy of luigunge, 4. tli'liiii-d. 
Ii2> Tlie prefent refinementa of, 111^. Orlgiu and 
progrefs of, 115. The firft elements of, 117. Atiilofry 
between words and things, I it. The great tifnilaiiu' iiN 
forded by geftureSf 122. The Chinefe language) 114. Tlu' 
Greek and Roman Unguage«, 115. AAion much ulod by 
antient orators and players, 126. Roman pantomimes, ii^. 
Great difference between anttent and modern pronuntiatioHt 
1 2 8. Figures of fpeech, the origin of, 119. Figurative 
ftyle of American I^guages, 131. Caufc of the di'dJiiv of 
figurative language, 133. The natural and originul arrange* 
■sent of words in fpeech, 136. The arrangement uf word* 
in modem languages, different from that of the anlieiilur 
^ ^ " exemphfication, IbiJ. Summary of the fvregoiiig 



oliK 



141. Its wonderAil powers, 33^1 
guHge Itrottgly tinilured with metaphor, 341. In mfidi-rti 
produ AioQSi often better than the fubjefls of tliein, it. 1 jy. 
Written and oral, diftinAion between, 437. Sec Cram- 
mmr. Style, and H^ritiHg. 

£,atia language, the pronunciation of^ raufical and grlUi-iiUt ' 
ing, i. 125. 394. The natural arrangemrnt uf wmU in, 
137. The want of article* a defect in, lis- Kcinark* mi 
the words deemed fynonymous in, 227. 

l.i*nuHg, an eflential requilite for eloquence, ii. 431. 

Lebaium, metaphorical aUufiom to, in H':br<.-w p'j^try, iii. 173. 

L*e, extravagant hyperbole quoted frfrfn.i. 371. Hi* cJiarMdkT 
as a tragic poet, iii. 32'^.* 

Liierty, the nuHe of true g«uus> ii. 1^7. 

JLiterary compolition, importance •/( tltn iludy '(( lany^nii','; pc- 
paratorv to, L 6. The beautiT^ 'if, iijiir(iiiit>-, i'/^, 't'u 
what clafi tl* pleafure* r«eiv>,-d frr.m ••lo'jDt.i.'r, i'""l'ft ""d 
fine writir.j, aR to bt r^'-rred, iVl. TKi If^^iilf* '«), iurt 
dependant on tr',yn ar.d fizur-», ii. 2. 'IV 'iiJf'-r'Mi bifid* 
of, diiisr-ifhtd, in. i-S. .Sw //ifitry, I'-^trj, '/.'.. 

Livj, h:> San^XKf ii tn Fiiit'^riaA, w- 2';. j'- 

Ltcht, tkjttA cbm.'few •* h.t ftyU, ». i^ '' '•" "?'' "f »* 
Treses •>• H--s-*s r;,-,-!. rftjr-J..-^, '.'/(f.p*»'») *rtfc Ct» 
wntiEgi o: Lord S.-AVrfljury, i.i. (%. 

/.M^u, fciaarta 'yr. ».u '1/^:^ •.-•■ M> 'i<i',J»*.», I. ^< JStf 
accostt rftiie dwfc-^iiery^ •-* y/^*/, w. (^/y. Ifi*6«»' 
tjoc* •^ioim -rf H-MMr's <MyST, w. »«!!. 




I • 



INDEX. 

Critical examination of his Pharfalia, iii. 239. Tlie fubjeAf 
240. Charader and condud of the ilory, 241. 

Luciarif charadler of his dialogues, iii. 59. 

LucretluSi his fublime reprefentation of the dominion of fuper- 
ftition over mankiud, i. 58. note. The moft admired paf- 
fages in his Treatife De Rerum Natura^ iii. 139. 

Lufiad. See Camoens* 

Lyric poetry, the peculiar charafter of, iii. 127. Four claffes 
of odes, 128. Charafters of the moft eminent lyric poets, 

ityjiasy the rhetorician, his chara6^er, ii. 179. 

M 
Machiavely his chara6ter as an hiftorian, iii. 44. 
Machinery f the great ufe of, in epic poetry, iii. 206. Cautions 
for the ufe ot, 208. 222. 
. JUacienziey Sir George, inftance of regular climax in his plead* 
ings, i. 419. 
Many by nature both a poet and mufician, iii. 83. 
Marivauxj a chara6ler of his novels, iii. 75. 
Marmontel, his comparative remarks on French, Englifh, and 

Italian poetry, iii. loi. note. 
Marfy^ Fr., his contraft between the charafters of Comeille and 

Racine, iii. 320. note. 
Mtiffillony extra6l from a celebrated fermon of his, ii. 301. note* 
Encomium on, by Louis XIV. 308. His artful d^vifion of 
^ a text, 363. 

^ Memoirs^ their clafs in hiftorical compofition affigned, iii. 47* 

Why the French are fond of thp kind of writing, 48. 
MetalepJtSf in figurative language, explained, i. 340. 
Metaphor y in figurative ftyle, explained, i. 341, 342. Alllan- 
. guage ftrongly tin6lured with, 343. Approaches the neareft 
to painting, of all the figures of fpeech, 345. Rules to be 
obferved in the condu6l of, 347. See Allegory^ 
Metajlafto^ his charadler as a dramatic writer, iii. 322. 
Metonomyy in figurative ftyle, explained, i. 344. 
Mexico y hiftorical pictures the records of that empire, i. 142. 
Milof narrative of the rencounter between him and Clodiu8,bf 

Cicero, ii. 366. 

Mi/tony inftances of fublimity in, i. s^, 78. 82. Of harmony, 

291. 311. Hyperbolical fentiments of Satan in, 371* 

Striking inftances of perfonification in, 382, 383. 385. £x- 

ff cellence of his defcriptive poetry, iii. 151. Who the proper 

hero of his Paradife Loft, 206. Critical examination of this 
poem, 262. His fublimity charafterifed, 265. Hislanguage 
and verfification, 267. 
Modtms. See Antients. 
\ MoIUtCf his chara^r as a dramatic poet, iii. 343* 

. Monioddoy lord» his obfervations on EngliQi and Latin verfe, 
-iii. 97. note* 

Jttwatmijt 



INDEX. 

Monotony in language, often the refult of too great attention to 

mufical arrangement, i. 301. 
Montague^ lady Mary Wortley, a charadler of her epiftolary 

ftyle, iii. 68. 
MontefquieUf chara6ler of his ftyle, ii^ 12. 
Monumental infcriptions, the numbers fuitedto the fiyle, i. 316. 
Moraity M., his fevere cenfure of Englifh comedy, iii* 351, 
Morcy Dr. Henry, Ghara6ter of his Divine Dialogues, iii. 60. 
Motion^ confidered as a fource of beauty, i. 97. 
Motte^ M. de la, his obfervations on lyric poetry, iii. 131. note. 

Remarks on his criticifm on Homer, 228. note. 
Muficy its influence on the paffions, M. 83. Its union with 

poetry, 84. Their feparation injurious to each, 92* 

N 

Ndl'oetey import of that French term, ii. 33. 

Narration^ an important point in pleadings at the bar, ii. 364. 

Night fcenes, commonly fublime, i. ^^. 

Nomic melody of the Athenians, what, i. 295. 

Novels y a fpecies of writing not fo infignificant as may be ima*. 
gined, iii. 69. Might be employed for very ufeful purpofes, 
ibid. Rife andprogrefsof fi6litious hiflory, 71. Charadlers 
of the moil celebrated romances and novels, 73. 

Novelty confidered as a fource of beauty, i. 105. 

Nouns 9 fubftantive, the foundation of all grammar^ i. 161. 
Number, gender, and cafes of, 166, 167. 

O 

Obfcurityy not unfavourable to fublimity, ii 57. Of ftyle, owing 
to indiftinft conceptions, 215. 

Odey the nature of, defined, iii. 127. Four diftinftions of, 128. 
Obfcurity and irregularity, the great faults in, 130. 

Odyffey^ general character of, iii. 229. Defe6ls of, 23b. 

Oedipus y an improper character for the ftage, iii. 302. 

Orators i antient, declaimed in recitative, i. 126. 

Orationsy the three kinds of, diftinffuifhed by the antients, 
ii. 213. The prefent diftindtions 0^214. Thofc in popular 
aflemblies confidered, 215* Prepared fpeeches not to be 
trufted to, 219. Neceffary degrees of premeditation, 220. 
Method, 221. Style and expreflion, 222. Impetuofity, 224. 
Attention to decorums, 227. Delivery, 230. 397. The fe- 
veral parts of a regular oration, 344. Introdu6lion, 345. 
Introdudlion to replies, 356^ Introduction to fermons, 357. 
Divifion of a difcourfe, 359. Rules for dividing it, 361, 
Explication, 364* The argumentative part, 370. Thepa- 
thetic^ 381. The peroration, 394. Virtue neccflary to the 
perfection of eloquence, 427. Defcription of a true orator, 
430- Qualifications for, 432. The beft antient writers on 
oratory, 443* nu 14. The ufe made of orations by the an- 
tient hiftoriansi 41. See Eloquence* 

r 

•"' . - B B 2 Oriental 









INDEX. 

Oriental poetry, more charadleriftical' of an age ttan of a coun- 
try, iii. 87. 

ftyle of fcripture language, i. 132. 

Orlando Furiofo. See jiriofto. 

OJJtan^ inftances of fublimity in his worka, i. 74. Coned 
metaphors, 356. Confuted mixture of metaphorical and 
plain language in, 357. Fine apoftrophe in, 391. Delicate 
fimile, 400. Lively defcriptions in, lii. 157* 

Otwayy his charaifter as a tragic poet, iii. 326. 

P 

Pantomime^ an entertaihhient of Roman origin, i. X27« 

Parablesy eaflem, their general vehicle for the conveytnce of 
truth, iii. 177. 

Paradife Loji^ critical review of that poem, iii. 262. The 
characters in, 264. Sublimity of, 265. Language and 
verfification, 277. 

Parenthefis^ cautions for the ufe of them, i. 258. 

Partly his charafler in the Iliad, examined, iii. 221. 

Parliament of Great Britain, why eloquence has never been fii 
powerful an inftrument in, as in the antient popular aflemUies 
of Greece and Rome, ii. 209. 

Parnely his chara6ker as a defcriptive poet, iii. 151. 

Particles^ cautions for the ufe of them, i. 265. Ought never 
to clofe fentences, 281. 

Pqjffiony the fource of oratory, ii. 164. 

Pq/Jionsf when and how to be addrefled by orators, ii. 382. 
The orator mufl feel emotions before he can communicate 
them to others, 386. The language of, 388. Poets addreii 
themfelves to the pailions, iii. 79. 

Pajloral poetry, inquiry into its origin, iii. 106. A three- 
fold view of pailoral life, 109. Rules for paftoral writing, 
no. Its fcenery, 1.12. Charadlers, 114. Subjects, 117. 
Comparative merits of antient paftoral writers, x 1 9* And 
of modems, 121. 

Pathetic^ the proper management of, in a difcourfe^ ii. 381. 
Fine inftance of, from Cicero, 390. 

PaufeSi the due ufes of, in public (peaking, ii. 408. In poetry, 
410. iii. 98. 

Pericles 9 the firft who brought eloquence to any degree of per- 
fedion, ii. 173. His general chara6ler, 174. 

Period* See Sentence* 

Perfonificationy the peculiar advantages of the Engliih lan- 
guage in, i. 169. Limitations «f gender in, 170. Ohjec* 
tions againft the praflice of, anfwered, 375. The difpofi- 
tion to animate the objects about us, natural to mankmdf 
ibid* This difpofition may account for the number of hea- 
then divinities, 376. Three degrees of this figure, 377. 
Rules for the management of the higheft degree of, 3d6» 
Caution for the ufe of, in profe compofitsoast 388. . See 
jipq/lropbe* 

Pir/iwit 



• , ^wt • * > - 



INDEX. 

Perfiuty 2i chara6ber of his Satires, iii. 141. 

Perfpicuity^ efTential to a eood ftyle, i. 214. Not merely a 
negative virtue, 215. The three qualities of, 216. 

Perfuafion^ diftinguiihed from convi^kion, ii. 161. Obje£iion 
brought from the abufe of this art, anfwered, 162. Rules 
for, 215. 

Peruvians^ their method of tranfmitting their thoughts to each 
other, i. i48. 

Petronias jfrbitetf his addre& to the declaimers of his time, 
ii. 200. 

Pharfalia* See Lucan* 

Pherecydes of Scyros, the firft profe writer, i. 133-. 

Philips^ charai&er of his paflorals, iii. 12^. 

Philofophersf modern, their fuperiority over the antient, un- 
quemonaUe, iii. 9. 

PhUofophyt the proper ftyle of writing adapted to, iii. 53. 
Proper embelliihments for, 54. 

PiSurety the firft efTay toward writing, i. 145. 

Pindar^ his chara6ler as a lyric poet, iii. 132. 

Pitcatm^ Dr., extravagant hyperbole cited from, i. 374. 

PlatOf chara^er of his dialogues, iii. 58. 

Plautuif his chara^ler as a dramatic poet, iii. 340. 

Pleaders at the bar, inftruftions to, ii. 250. 364. 

Pliny* s Letters, general charafter of, iii. 64. 

Plutarch^ his chmBt&t as a biographer, iii. 50. 

Poetry 9 in what fenfe defcriptive and in what imitative, i* 108. 
Is more antient than prole, 132. Source of the pleafure we 
receive from the figurative ftyle of, 382. Teft of the merit 
of, 404. Whence the difficmty of reading poetry arifes, ii. 
410. Compared with oratory, 425. Epic, the ftandards of, 
iii. 14. Definition of poetry, 79. Is addreifed to the ima- 
gination and the pailions, tbid. Its origin, 81. In what 
fenfe olde&than profe, tbid. Its union with mufic, 84. An- 
tient hiftory and inftru6lion firft conveyed in poetry, ibid. 
Oriental, more chara£leriftical of an age than of a country, 
87. Gothic, Celtic, and Grecian, ibia. Origin of the dif- 
ferent kinds of, 89. Was more vigorous in its firft rude 
eflays than under refinement, 91. Was injured by the repa- 
ration of mufic from it, 92. Metrical feet, invention of, 95. 
Thefe meafures not applicable to Englifh poetry, 96. 
Englifti heroic verfe, the ftrufture of, 97. FrencK poetry, 
98. Rhyme and blank verfe compared, 100. Progrefs of 
Enffliih verfification, 103. Paftorals, 106. Lyrics, 127 
Dida^ic poetry, 135. Defcriptive poetry, 146. Hebrew 
poetry, 162. Epic poetry, 187. Poetic characters, two 
kinds of, 205. Dramatic poetry, 269. 

Pointings cannot correct a confufed fentence, i. 258* 

Politics f the'fcience of> why ill underftood among the antients, 
iii, 27. .. . 

B B J > PoiybiffSf 






^ 



INDEX. 

Polyhlusy his charafter as an hiftorian, iiL 21- 
Pope, criticifm on a paffage in his Homer, i. 77. Profe fpeci^ 
men from, confifting of fhort fentencea, 240. Other fpeci- 
mens of his ftyle, 273. 284. Confufed mixtures of meta- 
phorical and plain language in, 354. Mixed metaphor in, 
359. Confufed perfonification, 387. Inftance of his fond- 
nefs for anrithefes, 411. Charad^er of his epiftolary writing?, 
iii. 66. Criticifm on, 67. Conftrudlion of his verfe, 99. 
Peculiar charaAer of his verfification, 104. His paftora^, 
117. 122. His ethic epiilles, 143. The merits of his va- 
rious poems examined, ib'td» CharatSler of his tranfiation of 
Homer, 225. 
Preclfion in language, in what it confiils, i. 219* The im- 
portance of, 242. Requifites to, 234. 
Prepqfitionsy whether more ancient than the declenfion of nouns 
by cafes, i. 173. Whether more ufefulthan beautiful, 176. 
Dr. Campbell's obfervations on, 178. note* Their great ufe 
in fpeech, 193. 
Prior y allegory cited from, i. 364. 

Pronouns, their ufe, varieties, and cafes, i. 179. Relative in- 
ftances, illullrating the importance of their proper pofition I 
in a fentence, 246, 
Pronunciation, dillind^nefs of, neceffary ia pubHc fpeaking, 

ii. 403. Tones of, 414. 
Proverbs, book of, a didadlic poem, iii. 180. 
Pfalm xviii. fublime reprefentation of the Deity in, i, 69. 
Ixxxth, a fine allegory from, 364. Remarks on the poetic 
conftrudlion of the Pfalms, iii. 166. 174. 
Pulpit, the eloquence of, defined, ii. 165. Englifh and French 
fermons compared, 206. The praftice of reading fermona 
in England difadvantageous to oratory,^ 210. The art 
of perfaafion refigned to the puritans, ibid. Advantages 
and difadvantages of pulpit eloquence, 278^. Rules for 
preaching, 282. The chief chara6teriftics of pulpit elo- 
quence, 285. Whether it is beft to read fermons, or de- 
liver them extempore, 297. Pronunciation, 298. Remarks 
on French fermons, 299. Caufe of the dry argument- 
ative ftyle of Englifh fermons, 302. General obfervations, 
306. 
Pyjijlratusy the firft who cultivated the arts of fpeech, ii, 173, 

Q 

QmnSiUan, his ideas of tafte, i. 20. note. His account of the 
antieni divifion of the feveral parts of fpeech, 160. note. His 
remarks on the importance of the ftudy of granunar, 19c, 
On perfpicuity of ftyle, 1214. 226. On climax, 276. Oq 
the llrudiure of fentences, 282. Which ought not. to offend 
the ear, 288. 302. His caution ag^inft too great an atten- 
tion to harmony, 304. His caution i|painft pdixe^, metaphor, 

■ ^ > . ■ .. ■' 3 . ■. 357' 



^ -^ 



re 



INDEX. 

357. His fine apoftrophe on'tte death of his fon, 391. His 
rule for the ufe of fimilies, 405. His direftions for the ufe 
of figures of ftyle, ii. 5. His diftinftions of ftyle, 9. 26. 
His inflru6tion8 for good writing, 46, 47. His chara6ler 
of Cicero's oratory, 192. His inftrudlions to public fpeakers 
for preferving decorums, 226. His inftrudlions to judicial 
pleaders, 252. His obfervations on exordiums to replies in 
debate, ^^6. On the proper divifion of an oration, 359, 
His mode of addreding the paflions, 387. His lively repre- 
fentation of the efFefts of depravity, 428. Is the beft antient 
writer on oratory, 44 j. ♦ 

R 

Rachff his chara6ler as a tragic poet, iii. 319. 

Ram/ay y Allan, charafter of his Gentle Shepherd, iii. 125. 

Rapin, P., remarks on his parallels between Greek and Roman 
writers, ii. 196, 

Ret%y cardinal de, character of his memoirs, iii. 49. 

Rhetoricians 9 Grecian, rife and character of, ii. 175. 

Rhyme, in Englifh verfe, unfavourable tofublimity, i. 77. And 
blank verfe compared, iii. 102. The former, why improper 
in the Greek and Latin languages, 103. The firll intro* 
dudtion of couplets in Englifh poetry, 104. 

flichardfon, a charadler of his novels, iii. 76. 

Ridicule^ an inilrument often mifapplied, iii. 330. 

Robin/on Crufge, charafter of that novel, iii. 76. 

Romance, derivation pf the term, iii. 72. See Novels • 

Romans, derived their leawing frpm Greece, ii. 187. Com# 
parifon between them and the Greeks, 188, Hiftorical 
view of their eloquence, 189. Oratorical charafter of Cicero, 
191. ^ra of the decline of eloquence among, 198. 

Roujfeau, Jean Babtifte, his character as a lyricjjoet, iii. 134^ 

Rowcy his chara^er as a tragic poet, iii. 320; 

S 

Sallujiy his chara6i:er as an hiftorian, iii. 28. 

Sanna%artus, his pifcatory eclogues, iii. 121. 

Safaft, examination of his charader in Milton's Paradife Loft, 
iii. 262. 

Satire, poetical, general remarks orf the ftyle of, iii. 141. .j^ 

Saxon language, how eftablifhed in England, i. 197. 

Scenes, dramatiG, what, and the proper condudl of, iii. 292. 

Scriptures, facred, the figurative ftyle of, remarked, i. 132. 
The tranflators of, hapf^ in fuiting their numbers to the 
fubjeA, 309. Fine apoftrophe in, 393. Prefent us wit^^fc| \^,, 
the moft antient monuments of poetry extant, iii. 162. Tfte^ 
diverfity of ftyle in the feveral books of, 163. The pfalrt* 
of David, I $6. No other writings abound with fuch bpld 
smd animated figures^ 170. Parables, 177, Bold and fub« 4^ 

vi|fr 3 B 4 lime 



INDEX. 

b'me inflaiTces of perfonification itiy 178. Book of Proirerbsi 
1 80. Lamentations of Jeremiah, Hid. 

ScuJdriy madam, her romances, iii. 74* 

Seufcdf his firequetit antithefes cenfured, u 410* Chamber 
of hia general ilyle, ii. 15. iii. ^^, His epilbobury writings, 
61. 

Sentence in language, definition of, i. 237. Diftingui(hed into 
long and (hort, 238. A variety in, to be fludied, 241. The 
properties efTential to a perfe^ fentence, 242. A principal 
rule for arranging the members of, 243. Pofition of adverbs, 
aid- And relative pronouns, 246. Unity of a fentenoe, 
rules for preferving, 251. Pointing, 258. Parenthefes, 
ibid. Should always be brought to a perfed clofe, 260. 
Strength, 262. Should be cleared of redundanides, 264. 
Due attention to particles vtcommended, 265. The Ofniffion 
of particles fometimes conne6ts obje6):s clofer together, 268. 
Directions for placing the important words, 271. Climax, 
276. A like order neceflary to be obferved in all afierdons 
or proportions, 279. Sentences ought not to conclude with 
a feeble word, ibid* Fundamental rule in the conftmftion 
of, 286. Sound not to be difregarded, 288. Two circum- 
ftances to be attended to for producing harmony in, 289. 
299. Rules of the antient rhetoricians for this purpofe, 292. 
Why harmony much less ftudied now than formerly, 294. 
Englifh words cannot be fo exa£Uy meafured by metrical 
feet as thofe of Greek and Latin, 298* What is required 
for the mufical clofe of a fentence, 303. Unmeaning words 
introduced merely to round a fentence, a great blemifh, ibid* 
Sounds ought to be adapted to fenfe, 307, 

SermonSf Englifh, compared with French, ii. 205. Unity an 
indifpenfable requifite in, 287. The fubjeCt ought tjo-be 
precife and particular, 288. The fubjeft not to be ex- 
haufted, 289. Cautions againft drynefs, 291 ; and againft 
conforming to faftiionable modes of preaching, 293. Style, 
294. Quaint expreffions, 296. Whether beft to be written 
or delivered extempore, 297. Delivery, 298. Remarks on 
French fermons, 299. Caufe of the dry argumentative 
ilyle of Enghfh fermons, 304. General obfervations, 3q6. 
^ Remarks on the proper divifions of, 359. Condufion, 
395. DeHvery, 397. - 

Sevigne^ madam de, cliaradter of her Letters, iii. 68* 

Shaftejbury^ lord, obfervations on his ftyle, i. 223. 341 • 2$6* 

273* 275* 3^^* 3^^* ^^' general charader as & writer^ 

ii. 39- . . • . . 

; ^hahe^earcf the merit of his plays examined, i. 45. Was not 

**» jpoilefied of a refined tafte, 48. Inilance of his improper ufe 
4 of metaphor, 351. 357. Exhibits pailions in the language 
of nature, iii. 310. His chara^ker as a tragic poet, 323. 
^ As a comic poet, 346. 

- ^ ^ Sbem/lmut 



INDEX. 

Stut/hne, Ibs patforal Mlad^ w. 123* 

Shej^htrdy the proper cbarader of> in paftoral defcriptiony 

in. 114. 
SheridaHf his difHndion between ideas and eitiotions^ ii. 41. 

note. 
Sherlock f bKhop, fine inftance of perfonification cited from his 

fermonsy i. 380. A happy allufion cited from his fermons, 

ii. 296. note. 
SiUus ItaluuSi his fublime reprefentation of Hannibal, i. 6x. 

note, 
SimHef difHnguiihed frxnn metaphor, i. 3^2. 397. Sources of 

the pleafure they afford, iHd* Two kinds of, 398. Re- 

quiatet in, 401. Rules for, 403. Local propriety to be 

adhered to in, 406. 
Simplicity, applied to ftyle, different fenfes of the term, ii. 30. 
Smollety improper ufe of figurative ilyle, cited from, i. 349. note, 
SoiomQn's Song, defcriptive beauties of, iii. 155. 
Songs, Runic, the origin of Gothic hiftory, lii. 85. 
Sophijis of Greece, rite and charafter of, ii. 175. 
Sophocles, the plots of his tragedies remarkably fimple, 

lii. 28^. Excelled in the pathetic, 309. His chara6ler as 

a tragic poet, 315. 
Sorrow, why the emotions of, excited by tragedy, communicate 

pleafure, iii. 289. 
Sounds, of an awful nature, affedl us with fublimity, i. 54* 

Influence of, in the formation of words, 117. 
Speaker^ public, muff be diredled more by his ear than by ruless 

i. 299. 
SpeSator, general chara6ier of that publication, ii. 54. Cri- 
tical examination of thofe papers that treat of the pleafures 

of imagination, ^6, 
Speech, the powers of, the diftinguifhing privilege of mankind^ 

i. I. The grammatical divifion of, into eight parts, not 

logical, 160. Of the antients, regulated by mufical rulesy 

^94- 
Straddi his charaf^er as an hiflx)rian, iii. 45. 

Style in langruage defined, i. 212. The difference of, in dif- 
ferent countries, 213. The qualities of a good ftyle, ibid, 
Perfpicuity, 214. Obfcurity, owing to indiftinft concep- 
tions, 215. Three requifite qualities in perfpicuity, 216. 
Precifion, ibid. A loofe ftyle, from what it proceeds, 221. 
Too great an attention to precifion renders a ftyle dry and 
barren, 235. French diftin€lion of ftyle, 239. The cnarac- 
ters of, now from peculiar modes of thinkmg, ii. 7. Dif- 
ferent fubjeds require a different ftyle, 8. Aiitient diftinc* 
tions of, 9. The different kinds of, 10. Concife and dif- 
fufive, on what occafions proper, 11. Nervous and feeble, 
16. A harfh ftyle, from what it proceeds, 17. ^ra o£ 
the formation of our prefent ftykf i8. Dry manner de« 

10 .fcribedf 



1 N D 5 X. 

fcribed, 21. A plain flyl^ Hid. ^ Nes^ ftyle» 24. Elegant 
ftyle, 25. Florid ftyle, 25. Natural ftyle, 29. Different 
fenfes of the term fimplicity, 30. The Greek writers dif- 
tinguifhed for fimplicity, 34. Vehcoaent ftyle, 42. Gene- 
rsl diredlions how to attain a good ftyle, 46. Imitation 
dangerous, 50. Style not to be ftadied to the ncgleA of 
thoughts, 51. Critical examination of thofe papers^ in the 
SpeiSator that treat of the pleafures of imagination,. 56, 
Critical examination of a pafTage in Swift's writings, 135. 
General obfervations, 156. See Eloquence, 

Sublimity of external objedls, and fjiibhmity in writing diftin- 
guiflied, i. 52. Its impreflions, ibid. Of fpace, 53. Of 
founds, 54. Violence of the elements, ibid. Solemnity 
bordering on the terrible, ^^. Obfcurity, not unfavour- 
. able to, 57. In building, 59. Heroifm, ibid. Great virtu?, 
61. Whether there is any one fundamental quality in the 
fources of fublime, 62. ♦ 

Sublimity in writing defined, i. 66. Errors, in Longinus pointed 
out, 67. The moft antient writers afford the moft ftriking 
inftances of fubUmity, 69. Sublime reprefentation of the 
Deity in Pfalm xviii., ibid. And in the prophet Habakkuk, 
70. In Mofes and Ifaiah, ibid. Inftances of fublimity in 
Homer, 72. In Oilian, 74. AmpHfication injurious to 
fublimity, 75. Rhyme in Englifh verfe unfavourable to, 
77. Strength effential to fubhme writing, 79, A proper 
choice of circumftances eflential to fublime defcription, 81 • 
Strictures on Virgil's defcription of Mount ^tna, 82- Th^ 
proper fources of the fublime, 84. Sublimity confifts in the 
thought, not in the words, 86* The faults oppofed to the 
fublime, 88. 

Sully^ duke de, character of his Memoirs, iii. 49. 

Suferflitioni fublime reprefentation of its dominion over man* 
Kind from Lucretius, i. 58. note* 

Swifty obfervations on his ftyle, i. 218. 234. 257. 283. 307. 
General charadler of his ftyle, ii. 22. Critical examination 
of the beginning of his. propofal for corredting, &c. th^ 
•Englifh tongue, 135, Concluding obfervations, 156. Hi^ 
language, 438. Charafter of his epifiolary writing, iii. 66. 

Syllables y Englifh, cannot be fo exadtly meafored by metrical 
feet, as thofc of Greek and Latin, i. 298. 

Synedochci in figurative ftyle, explained, i. 340, 

Synonymous words, obfervations on, i. 226. 

T 

Tacitus, cliaraAer of his ftyle, iii. 14, His chara^er as an 

hiftorian, 29. His happy manner of introducing incidental 

obfervations, 31. Inftance of his fuccefsful talent in hifto- 

rical painting, 39. His defers as a writer, 41. 

Tqffof a paffage from his Gieru/aUmme diftinguifhed by the 

harmony 



/