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POETRY, WITH REFERENCE TO
ARISTOTLE'S POETICS

EDITED

WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES
BY

ALBERT S. COOK

PROFESSOR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE
IN YALE UNIVERSITY

BOSTON, U.S.A.

PUBLISHED BY GINN & COMPANY
1891

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1891,

BY ALBERT S. COOK,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

TYPOGRAPHY BY J. S. GUSHING & Co., BOSTON, U.S.A.
PRESSWORK BY GINN & Co., BOSTON, U.S.A.

INTRODUCTION.

NEWMAN'S essay challenges the attention of students
of English on three several grounds. The first is his
eminence as a stylist, the second his attempt to deter-
mine fundamental poetic principles, and the third his
inclusion of ancient and modern writers in a single view.

Newman is justly celebrated as a master of lucid,
copious, straightforward, vigorous prose. The simple
manliness of his more popular writing contrasts favor-
ably with the affectation and caprice of many of his
contemporaries, and its qualities will never grow old,
whatever may be the judgment of posterity on some of
its author's opinions. Newman's mind was nourished
by liberal studies, and from those studies he extracted
the kernel of substance, not contenting himself with
the husk of accident. From his acquaintance with
language and literature he gained the ideas of a prince
among men, as well as the accuracy of a grammarian.
The breathing thoughts and burning words with which
he became familiar, at once quickened his intelligence
and enlarged its sphere, so that he became capable of
reasoning both amply and subtly. His convictions,
whether acceptable to others or not, and though subject
to change for what he esteemed sufficient cause, were
at all events based upon inquiry and meditation ; they
were not the mere rags and shreds of others' thought,

iv Introduction,

caught up and worn at secondhand. His definition of
originality, on page 22 of the present essay, might have
been framed from an inspection of the workings of his
own mind. Conviction gives birth to decision, a striking
quality of his prose, and it generates the power of
arrangement, which he discusses on pages 26 and 27.
In fact, his prose casts over the reader the spell exerted
by the excellent novelist or poet. The mind is gently,
yet firmly, directed into certain channels, and made to
follow the course marked out for it. For the time being,
one feels himself in the hands of a strong yet reason-
able and beneficent master, and has neither the energy
nor the desire to resist his will. It is sufficient that
the superior mind is aware of the goal toward which
our footsteps are guided.

There are some, who, after repeated examination of
Newman's thought, will doubt its sufficiency, yet even
they can not resist the impression produced by its orderly
development. It is the province of all art to cheat us
with gradation. The highest altitude of a bas-relief
may be only some insignificant fraction of an inch, yet
the spectator will persuade himself that he sees in it the
natural proportions of a whole group of human forms.
The setting sun of a landscape piece may be actually
represented by an opaque, dull yellow, yet appear to
glow with the whitest of dazzling light. The novelist's
climax may be an insignificant event, which in real life
would be passed by without remark, yet we shall be
excited to the uttermost as we approach and reach it.
Gradation deceives us with the semblance of wholes, of
adequacy, of truth, of singular importance. Newman
is aware of this, as he explicitly avers, and few modern

Introduction. v

writers have made a more effective use of the principle.
He masses and groups particulars, the individual signifi-
cance of which we can not help confessing, with refer-
ence to a generalization which seems to follow of itself,
unaided by effort on our part or his. Link by link the
chain of his logic is wound about us, and before we
know it we are bound hand and foot in a bondage so
pleasing that we almost prefer it to liberty. Whether
he deliver an address, conduct an argument, or relate
a story, the result always seems predestined ; easily,
insensibly, yet inevitably, the reader feels himself im-
pelled toward a foregone conclusion.

Other marks of Newman's style there doubtless are,
such as the absence of remote and passing allusion ;
the sparing, but convincing, use of simile, of which
there is an example on page 4 ; its stately harmony ; the
mastery of language which he himself recommends, so
that speech becomes the most diaphanous of veils, or
rather like that clear light in which ^Eneas shone, when
the enshrouding mist was parted and resolved itself into
the colors of the sky. But it is no part of my purpose
to write an essay on Newman's style; it is sufficient to
feel assured that it represents something more than
verbal jugglery, that it stands for art in a larger sense,
that it embodies the features of a personality rather
than the mere dexterities of rhetorical craftsmanship.

A second claim upon our attention arises from his
inquiry into the principles which underlie great poetry.
It is scarcely too much to say that the best poetry has
been produced at epochs when these principles were
well understood, and that they can only be perfectly
understood in epochs which are capable of producing

vi Introduction.

the best poetry. The fact, therefore, that there is at
present a growing interest in the investigation of the
canons of poetic art is at once an augury rich with hope,
and a monition to which the promptest and most cheer-
ful obedience should be rendered.

The third reason is to be found in the catholicity of
Newman's knowledge and taste. He is not the partisan
of a school or clique. He can admire a scientist like
Aristotle, or tragedians like the immortal three of
Greece. Sophocles does not blind him to the merits
of Euripides, nor yet of Shakespeare. In one breath he
couples Scott and Crabbe, in another Scott and Homer,
and in still another, this time for purposes of censure,
Scott and Cowper. For a certain trait he extols Bernard
Barton, for another he criticises Virgil. One who is
acquainted with so wide a range of poetry, if he be, like
Newman, a person of fine discernment, sound intuitions,
and correct principles of reasoning, may render inestim-
able service to the student at almost any stage of his
progress. To the beginner he offers a method, and to
the more advanced inquirer a means of rectifying partial
or erroneous views ; to all a stimulus to independent
reading and reflection. It is impossible to contrast and
endeavor to harmonize productions of widely sundered
ages and nationalities, yet of the same general design
and character, without winning in the pursuit some of
the most precious rewards which culture has it in her
power to bestow.

To yield the most satisfactory results, the opinions of
Newman should be compared with those of other writers
on the same subject, with those of Aristotle himself, of
Plato, and of derivative writers like Sidney and Shelley.

Introduction. vii

But it is quite as desirable to attempt a verification of
his judgments by an examination of the authors whom
he cites. A useful auxiliary in the study of the Greek
tragedians will be found in Moulton's Ancient Classical
Drama, which contains a list of available translations ;
with Moulton's suggestive book may be compared
Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature.
Translations of the complete plays of ^Eschylus, Sopho-
cles, and Euripides may now be had in Morley's Uni-
versal Library (published by Routledge & Sons, London
and New York, at a shilling a volume) ; ^Eschylus
and Sophocles are each contained in a single volume,
Euripides in three. No other English translation of
Euripides is accessible ; better ones of ^Eschylus and
Sophocles are by Plumptre (published by Isbister,
London, at seven shillings sixpence and four shillings
sixpence respectively). Mrs. Browning has a poetical
rendering of the Prometheus Bound of ^Eschylus, and
Robert Browning of the Alcestis of Euripides, the latter
under the title of Balaustions Adventure. The Iliad
may be had in the prose translation of Lang, Leaf, and
Myers (Macmillan), the Odyssey in that of Butcher and
Lang (Macmillan) or of Palmer (Houghton, Mifflin &
Co.) ; besides these, the poetical translation of both
epics by Bryant (Houghton, Mifflin & Co., each volume
$2.50), and that of the Odyssey by Worsley (Blackwood,
Edinburgh and London, twelve shillings) are to be recom-
mended. There is an English translation of Aristotle's
Poetics by Wharton, with the Greek on opposite pages
(Parker, Oxford and London, two shillings and sixpence),
and one by Twining in Cassell's National Library, with-
out the Greek, but in the same volume with Longinus

viii Introduction.

On the Sublime, for ten cents. With the works men-
tioned, and the English authors referred to by Newman,
a teacher of literature ought to have no difficulty in
framing an attractive and profitable course in poetry
and imaginative writing ; nor would it be time thrown
away to read the essay of Newman by itself.

•

ANALYSIS.

Announcement of subject, 1 1-3.

I. Whether plot is of chief importance in tragedy, 1 4—9 23.

A. The Greek tragedies do not confirm Aristotle's theory of plot, 1 4—

83.

I. Illustration from the Agamemnon of /Eschylus, the CEdipus
Tyrannus of Sophocles, and the Bacchce of Euripides,
5 8-8 3.

B. Discussion of Aristotle's error, S 4—9 23, and transition to next head

9 24-8.

II. Poetry a representation of the ideal, 9 29—21 25.

A. Beauty and perfection the standard of poetry, 9 29—12 27.

1. This differentiates poetry from history and biography, 9 29—

1027.

2. For the same reason it naturally allies itself with metaphor and

music, 10 28—11 20.

3. Portions of otherwise great poems may be unpoetical, 11 21—

1227.

B. Poetic idealization considered with reference to its subjects,

12 28-21 25.

1. Description idealized, 12 29—13 32.

a. Description unidealized : Empedocles, Oppian, Thom-

son (?), 12 29—13 12.

b. Description properly idealized : Milton, 13 12-20.

c. Description over-idealized : Virgil and Pope, 13 20-28.

2. Narrative idealized, 14 1—15 8.

a. Narrative unidealized : Horace Smith's Brambletye

House ; and idealized : Scott's Peveril of the Peak,
14 21-28.

b. Anomalous experiences unavailable for poetry, 14 28—15 8.

x Analysis.

3. Character idealized, 15 9—17 27.

a. Circumstances under which idealization is unnecessary,

15 30-16 11.

b. Idealization consistent with individualization, 16 12-23.

c. And with the introduction of imperfect or odious char-

acters, 16 23—17 6.

d. The satisfaction of poetic justice may be referred to a

future life, 17 6-26.

4. Opinions, feelings, manners, and customs idealized, 17 28—19 24.

a. Especially in the ode, elegy, sonnet, and ballad, 17 30—

1816.

b. But also in didactic and moralizing poems, 18 17—19 24.

aa. But declamation and poetry are here often con-
founded, though directly opposite in nature,
18 21—19 24.

5. The philosophy of mind idealized, 19 25—21 25.

a. Delicate characterization in Crabbe and Scott, 20 4—21 1.

b. Lack of it in Byron, 21 1-22.

III. Relation of originality to poetic talent, 21 27—25 19.

A. Poetic talent the originality of right moral feeling, 22 1-3.

B. Definition of originality, 22 4-18.

C. Poetry the originality of grace, refinement, purity, and good feel-

ing, 22 18-29.

1. Whether this doctrine is confirmed by experience, 22 30—23 24.

2. Poets who exhibit correct moral perception, 23 24—24 1.

3. Some who are deficient in it, 24 1-24.

D. The poetry in religion, 24 25-25 19.

IV. Poetical composition, 25 20—28 19.

A. The art of composition merely accessory to the poetical talent,

25 21-22.

B. Causes of obscurity in poetical writings, 25 24—26 9.

C. Poetical eloquence, 26 10—27 16.

1. Power of illustration, 26 14-20.

2. Power of arrangement, 26 20—27 4.

3. Command of language, 27 4-16.

D. Attention to language for its own sake to be deprecated, 27 17-31.

E. Examples of adequacy, inadequacy, and affectation of style, 27 32—

2819.

V. Note on the definition of poetry : Poetry the gift of moving the affec-

tions through the imagination, and its object the beautiful, 29.

n U JV « Y & *v

POETRY, WITH REFERENCE TO
ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

WE propose to offer some speculations of our own *
on Greek Tragedy, and on Poetry in general, as
.suggested by the doctrine of Aristotle on the subject.

Aristotle considers the excellence, of a tragedy to
•depend upon its plot — and, since a tragedy, as such, is 5
obviously the exhibition of an action, no one can deny
his statement to be abstractedly true. Accordingly he
directs his principal attention to the economy of the
fable ; determines its range of subjects, delineates its
proportions, traces its progress from a complication of 10
incidents to their just and satisfactory settlement, in-
vestigates the means of making a train of events striking
or affecting, and shows how the exhibition of character
may be made subservient to the purpose of the action.
His treatise is throughout interesting and valuable. It 15
Is one thing, however, to form the beau ideal of a tragedy
on scientific principles ; another to point out the actual
beauty of a particular school of dramatic composition.
The Greek tragedians are not generally felicitous in the
construction of their plots. Aristotle, then, rather tells (20
us what Tragedy should be, than what Greek Tragedy \

2 Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics.

\really was. And this doubtless was the intention of the

philosopher. Since, however, the Greek drama has

obtained so extended and lasting a celebrity, and yet

jits excellence does not fall under the strict rules of the

5 [critical art, we have to inquire in what it consists.

That the charm of Greek Tragedy does not ordinarily
arise from scientific correctness of plot, is certain as a
matter of fact. Seldom does any great interest arise
from the action ; which, instead of being progressive and

10 sustained, is commonly either a mere necessary condition
of the drama, or a convenience for the introduction of
matter more important than itself. It is often stationary
— often irregular^— sometimes either wants or outlives
the catastrophex In the plays of ^Eschylus it is always

15 simple and inartificial ; in four out of the seven there is
hardly any plot at all ; and though it is of more prom-
inent importance in those of Sophocles, yet even here
the QEdipus at Colonus is a mere series of incidents, and
the Ajax a union of two separate subjects ; while in the

20 Philoctetes, which is apparently busy, the circumstances
of the action are but slightly connected with the ctinone-
ment. The carelessness of Euripides in the construc-
tion of his plots is well known. The action then will
be more justly viewed as the vehicle for introducing the

25 personages of the drama, than as the principal object of
the poet's art ; it is not in the plot, but in the charac-
ters, sentiments, and diction, that the actual merit and
poetry of the composition are found. To show this to
the satfsfaction of the readel" would require a minuter

3° investigation of details than our present purpose admits ;
yet a few instances in point may suggest others to the
memory.

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 3

For instance, in neither the QEdipus Coloneus nor the •«•*•*-- f^*--
Philoctetes, the two most beautiful plays of Sophocles,
is the plot striking ; but how exquisite is the delineation
of the characters of Antigone and CEdipus, in the f ormer c^*x'*t' s-
tragedy, particularly in their interview with Polynices, 5
and the various descriptions of the scene itself which
the Chorus furnishes ! In the Philoctetes, again, it is
the contrast between the worldly wisdomj)f Ulysses, the ^*r*r*»*t*^
inexperienced toikiisss^jQi-^^^optolemus, and the sim-
plicity-Qf the afflicted_JEhiloctetes, which constitutes the 10
principal charmjof the drama. Or we may instance the
spirit and nature displayed in the grouping of the char-
acters in the Prometheus, which is almost without ac-
tion ; the stubborn enemy of the new dynasty of gods ;
Oceanus trimming, as an accomplished politician, with 15
the change of affairs ; the single-hearted and generous
Nereids ; and Hermes, the favorite and instrument of
the usurping potentate. So again, the beauties of the
Thebae are almost independent of the plot ; it is the
Chorus which imparts grace and interest to the action- 20
less scene; and the speech of Antigone at the end, one
of the most simply striking in any play, has, scientifi-
cally speaking, no place in the tragedy, which should
already have been brought to its conclusion. Then
again, amid the multitude of the beauties of the irreg- 25
ular Euripides, it would be obvious to notice the char-
acter of Alcestis, and of Clytemnestra in the Electra ;
the soliloquies of Medea ; the picturesque situation of
Ion, the minister of the Pythian temple ; the opening
scene of the Orestes ; and the dialogues between Phaedra 3°
and her attendant in the Hippolytus, and the old man
and Antigone in the Phcenissae ; — passages nevertheless

4 Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics.

which are either unconnected with the development of
the plot, or of an importance superior to it.

Thus the Greek drama, as a fact, was modeled on no-
scientific principle. It_was a pure recreation of the

5 imagination, reveling without object or meaning beyond
its own exhibition. Gods, heroes, kings, and dames,
enter and retire : they may have a good reason for
appearing, — they may have a very poor one ; whatever
it is, still we have no right to ask for it ; the question is

10 impertinent. Let us listen to their harmonious and
majestic language, to the voices of sorrow, joy, com-
passion, or religious emotion, — to the animated odes of
the chorus. Why interrupt so transcendent a display
of poetical genius by inquiries degrading it to the level

15 of every-day events, and implying incompleteness in the
action till a catastrophe arrives? The very spirit of
beauty breathes through every part of the composition.
We may liken the Greek drama to the music of the
Italian school ; in which the wonder is, how so much

20 richness of invention in detail can be accommodated to*
a style so simple and uniform. Each is the develop-
ment of grace, fancy, pathos, and taste, in the respective
media of representation and sound.

However true then it may be that one or two of the

25 most celebrated dramas answer to the requisitions of
Aristotle's doctrine, still, for the most part, Greekl
Tragedy has its own distinct and peculiar praise, which
must not be lessened by a criticism conducted on prin-
ciples, whether correct or not, still leading to excellence

30 of another character. This being as we hope shown, we
shall be still bolder, and proceed to question even the
sufficiency of the rules of Aristotle for the production

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 5

of dramas of the highest order. These rules, it would
appear, require a fable not merely natural and unaffected,
as a vehicle of more poetical matter, but one labored
and complicated, as the sole legitimate channel of tragic
effect ; and thus tend to withdraw the mind of the poet 5.
from the spontaneous exhibition of pathos or imagination
to a minute diligence in the formation of a plot.

To explain our views on the subject, we will institut<
a short comparison between three tragedies, the A
me_mjQX>n, the CEdipus, and the JBacchae, one of each oi
the tragic poets, as to which, by reference to Aristotle's
principles, we think it will be found that the most per-
fect in plot is not the most poetical.

1. Of these, the action of the QEdipus Tyrannus is
frequently instanced by the critic as a specimen of judg- i>
ment and skill in the selection and combination of the
incidents ; and in this point of view it is truly a masterly
composition. The clearness, precision, certainty, and
vigor with which the line of the action moves on to its
termination is admirable. The character of QEdipus, 20
too, is finely drawn, and identified with the development

of the action.

2. The Agamemnon of ^Eschylus presents us with
the slow and difficult birth of a portentous secret — an
event of old written in the resolves of destiny, a crime 25,
long meditated in the bosom of the human agents. The
Chorus here has an importance altogether wanting in
the Chorus of the CEdipus. They throw a pall of an-
cestral honor over the bier of the hereditary monarch,.

6 Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics.

which would have been unbecoming in the case of the
upstart king of Thebes. Till the arrival of Agamem-
non they occupy our attention, as the prophetic organ,
not commissioned indeed, but employed by heaven, to
5 proclaim the impending horrors. Succeeding to the
brief intimation of the watcher who opens the play, they
seem oppressed with forebodings of woe and crime which
they can neither justify nor analyze. The expression of
their anxiety forms the stream in which the plot flows

TO — everything, even news of joy, takes a coloring from
the depth of their gloom. On the arrival of the king,
they retire before Cassandra, a more regularly commis-
sioned prophetess ; who, speaking first in figure, then in
plain terms, only ceases that we may hear the voice of

15 the betrayed monarch himself, informing us of the strik-
ing of the fatal blow. Here, then, the very simplicity
of the fable constitutes its especial beauty. The death
of Agamemnon is intimated at first — it is accomplished
at last ; throughout we find but the growing in volume

20 and intensity of one and the same note — it is a work-
ing up of one musical ground, by figure and imitation,
into the richness of combined harmony. But we look
in vain for the progressive and thickening incidents of
the CEdipus.

25 3. The action of the Bacchae is also simple. It is the
history of the reception of the worship of Bacchus in
Thebes ; who, first depriving Pentheus of his reason,
and thereby drawing him on to his ruin, reveals his own
divinity. The interest of the scene arises from the

3° gradual process by which the derangement of the The-
ban king is effected, which is powerfully and originally
described. It would be comic, were it unconnected with

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 7

religion. As it is, it exhibits the grave irony of a god
triumphing over the impotent presumption of man, the
sport and terrible mischievousness of an insulted deity.
It is an exemplification of the adage, " Quern deus vult
perdere, prius dementat." So delicately balanced is the 5
action along the verge of the sublime and grotesque,
that it is both solemn and humorous, without violence
to the propriety of the composition : the mad fire of the
Chorus, the imbecile mirth of old Cadmus and Tiresias,
and the infatuation of Pentheus, who is ultimately in- 10
duced to dress himself in female garb to gain admit-
tance among the Bacchae, are made to harmonize with
the terrible catastrophe which concludes the life of the
intruder. Perhaps the victim's first discovery of the
disguised deity is the finest conception in this splendid 15
drama. His madness enables him to discern the em-
blematic horns on the head of Bacchus, which were hid
from him when in his sound mind ; yet this discovery,
instead of leading him to an acknowledgment of the
divinity, provides him only with matter for a stupid and 20
perplexed astonishment :

A Bull, thou seem'st to lead us ; on thy head
Horns have grown forth : wast heretofore a beast?
For such thy semblance now.

This play is on the whole the most favorable sped- 25
men of the genius of Euripides — not breathing the
sweet composure, the melodious fulness, the majesty
and grace of Sophocles ; nor rudely and overpoweringly
tragic as JSschylus ; but brilliant, versatile, imaginative,
as well as deeply pathetic. Here then are two dramas 30
of extreme poetical power, but deficient in skilfulness of

8 Poetry -, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics.

plot. Are they on that account to be rated below the
CEdipus, which, in spite of its many beauties, has not
even a share of the richness and sublimity of either ?

Aristotle, then, it must be allowed, treats dramatic
5 composition more as an exhibition of ingenious work-
manship than as a free and unfettered effusion of
genius. The inferior poem may, on his principle, be
the better tragedy. He may indeed have intended
solely to delineate the outward framework most suit-

10 able to the reception of the spirit of poetry, not to dis-
cuss the nature of poetry itself. If so, it cannot be
denied that, the poetry being given equal in the two
cases, the more perfect plot will merit the greater share
of praise. And it may seem to agree with this view of-

15 his meaning, that he pronounces Euripides, in spite of
the irregularity of his plots, to be after all the most
tragic of the Greek dramatists, that is, inasmuch as he
excels in his appeal to those passions which the outward
form of the drama merely subserves. Still there is

20 surely too much stress laid by the philosopher upon the
artificial part ; which, after all, leads to negative more
than to positive excellence ; and should rather be the
natural and, so to say, unintentional result of the poet's
feeling and imagination, than be separated from them

25 as the direct object of his care. Perhaps it is hardly
fair to judge of Aristotle's sentiments by the fragment
of his work which has come down to us. Yet as his
natural taste led him to delight in the explication of
systems, and in those connected views following upon

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 9

his vigorous talent for thinking through large subjects,
we may be allowed to suspect him of entertaining too
cold and formal conceptions of the nature of poetical
composition, as if its beauties were less subtile and deli-
cate than they really are. A word has power to convey 5
a world of information to the imagination, and to act as
a spell upon the feelings ; there is no need of sustained
fiction, — often no room for it. The sudden inspiration,
surely, of the blind CEdipus, in the second play bearing
his name, by which he is enabled, " without a guide," to 10
lead the way to his place of death, in our judgment pro-
duces more poetical effect than all the skilful intricacy
of the plot of the Tyrannus. The latter excites an
interest which scarcely lasts beyond the first reading —
the former " decies repetita placebit." 15

Some confirmation of the judgment we have ventured
to pass on the greatest of analytical philosophers is the
account he gives of the source of poetical pleasure ;
which he almost identifies with a gratification of the
reasoning faculty, placing it in the satisfaction derived 20
from recognizing in fiction a resemblance to the realities
of life — "The spectators are led to recognize and to
syllogize what each thing is."

But as we have treated, rather unceremoniously, a de-
servedly high authority, we will try to compensate for 25
our rudeness by illustrating his general doctrine of the
nature of Poetry, which we hold to be most true and
philosophical.

Poetry^according to Aristotle, is a representation of
the_ideal. Biography and history represent individual 3°

io Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics.

characters and actual facts ; poetry, on the contrary,
generalizing from the phenomenon of nature and life,
supplies us with pictures drawn, not after an existing
pattern, but after a creation of the mind. Fidelity is
5 the primary merit of biography and history ; the essence
of poetry is fiction. " Poesis nihil aliud est," says Bacon,
"quam historiae imitatio ad placitum." It delineates
that perfection which the imagination suggests, and to
which as ~aTIImit the present system of Divine_Provi-

10 dence actually tenets^ Moreover, by confining the at-
tention to one series of events and scene of action, it
bounds and finishes off the confused luxuriance of real
nature ; while, by a skilful adjustment of circumstances,
it brings into sight the connexion of cause and effect,

15 completes the dependence of the parts one on another,
and harmonizes the proportions of the whole. It is then
but the type and model of history or biography, if we
may be allowed the comparison, bearing some resem-
blance to the abstract mathematical formulae of physics,

20 before they are modified by the contingencies of atmos-
phere and friction. Hence, while it recreates the \m-
agination by the superhuman loveliness of its views, it
provides a solace for the mind broken by the disappoint-
ments and sufferings of actual life ; and becomes, more-

25 over, the utterance of the inward emotions of a right
moral feeling, seeking a purity and a truth which this

L world will not give.

It follows that the poetical mind is one full of the

/*T9~ A f\*~\ iji'

W yl& hrP eternal forms of beauty and perfection ; these are its
^W *>&* 30 material of thought, its instrument and medium of ob-

V\' * ^ servation, — these color each object to which it directs

its view. It is called imaginative or creative from the

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle's Poetics. n

originality jincL independence of its_mpdes_PL thinking,
coinpared_with the commonplace and matter-oj-fact con-
c^£tion^_ofordmary minds^jvhich are fettered down to
the particular and individual. At the same time it feels
a natural sympathy with everything great^^nd jsplendid 5
in fhlT physicallmcl mordworld ;"lmcirselecting such from
the mass of cornlnbirphenomena^incorporates them, as
i^jwerpjJTTl-^^ of its own creations. From

living ThuslrTaTworld ofjtsjown, it speaks_^he_language
of dignity, emotion, and refinement. Figure is its neces- 10
sary medium of communication with man ; for in the
feebleness of ordinary words to express its ideas, and in
the absence of terms of abstract perfection, the adoption
of metaphorical language is the only poor means allowed
it for imparting to others its intense feelings. A metals
rical garb has, in all languages, been appropriated to /
poetry — it is but the outward development of the music
and harmony within. The verse, far frorn^bejng a f&
straint_j)n the true poet, is the^ suitable index of his
sense, and is adopted by his free and deliberate choice. 20
We shall presently show the applicability of our doctrine
to the various departments of poetical composition ; first,
however, it will be right to volunteer an explanation
which may save it from much misconception and objec-
tion. Let not our notion be thought arbitrarily to limit 25
the number of poets, generally considered such. It will
be found to lower particular works, or parts of works,
rather than the authors themselves ; sometimes to dis-
parage only the vehicle in which the poetry is conveyed.
There is an ambiguity in the word " poetry," which is 3°
taken to signify both the gift itself, and the written
composition which is the result of it. Thus there is an

12 Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics,

apparent, but no real contradiction, in saying a poem
may be but partially poetical ; in some passages more
so than in others ; and sometimes not poetical at all.
We only maintain, not that the writers forfeit the name
5 of poet who fail at times to answer to our requisitions,
but that they are poets only so far forth, and inasmuch
as they do answer to them. We may grant, for instance,
that the vulgarities of old Phoenix in the ninth Iliad, or
of the nurse of Orestes in the Chcephoroe, are in them-

10 selves unworthy of their respective authors, and refer
them to the wantonness of exuberant genius ; and yet
maintain that the scenes in question contain much inci-
dental poetry. Now and then the lustre of the true
metal catches the eye, redeeming whatever is unseemly

15 and worthless in the rude ore ; still the ore is not the
metal. Nay, sometimes, and not unfrequently in Shak-
speare, the introduction of un poetical matter may be
necessary for the sake of relief, or as a vivid expression
of recondite conceptions, and, as it were, to make friends

20 with the reader's imagination. This necessity, however,
cannot make the additions in themselves beautiful and
pleasing. Sometimes, on the other hand, while we do
not deny the incidental beauty of a poem, we are
ashamed and indignant on witnessing the unworthy
substance in which that beauty is imbedded. This re-
\ mark applies strongly to the immoral compositions to
\which Lord Byron devoted his last years.

Now to proceed with our proposed investigation.

i. We will notice descriptive poetry first. Empedocles

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 13

wrote his physics in verse, and Oppian his history of
animals. Neither were poets — the one was an historian
of nature, the other a sort of biographer of brutes.
Yet a poet may make natural history or philosophy the
material of his composition. But under his hands they 5
are no longer a bare collection of facts or principles,
but are painted with a meaning, beauty, and harmonious
order not their own. Thomson has sometimes been
commended for the novelty and minuteness of his re-
marks upon nature. This is not the praise of a poet ; 10
whose office rather is to represent known phenomena
in a new connexion or medium. In L' Allegro and II
Penseroso the poetical magician invests the commonest
scenes of a country life with the hues, first of a cheer-
ful, then of a pensive imagination. It is the charm of 15
the descriptive poetry of a religious mind that nature
is viewed in a moral connexion. Ordinary writers, for
instance, compare aged men to trees in autumn — a
gifted poet will in the fading trees discern the fading
men.* Pastoral poetry is a description of rustics, agri- 20
culture, and cattle, softened off and corrected from the
rude health of nature. Virgil, and much more Pope
and others, have run into the fault of coloring too
highly ; instead of drawing generalized and ideal forms
of shepherds, they have given us pictures of gentlemen 25
and beaux.

Their composition may be poetry, but it is not pastoral
poetry.

* Thus :— " How quiet shows the woodland scene !

Each flower and tree, its duty done, 30

Reposing in decay serene,

Like weary men when age is won," etc.

14 Poetry, with reference to Aristotle's Poetics.

2. The difference between poetical and historical nar-
rative may be illustrated by the Tales Founded on Facts,
generally of a religious character, so common in the
present day, which we must not be thought to approve
5 because we use them for our purpose. The author finds
in the circumstances of the case many particulars too
trivial for public notice, or irrelevant to the main story,
or partaking perhaps too much of the peculiarity of in-
dividual minds : these he omits. He finds connected

10 events separated from each other by time or place, or
a course of action distributed among a multitude of
agents ; he limits the scene or duration of the tale, and
dispenses with his host of characters by condensing the
mass of incident and action in the history of a few. He

*5 compresses long controversies into a concise argument,
and exhibits characters by dialogue, and (if such be his
object) brings prominently forward the course of Divine
Providence by a fit disposition of his materials. Thus
he selects, combines, refines, colors, — in fact, poetizes.

20 His facts are no longer actual, but ideal ; a tale founded
on facts is a tale generalized from facts. The authors
of Peveril of the Peak, and of Brambletye House, have
given us their respective descriptions of the profligate
times of Charles II. Both accounts are interesting, but

25 for different reasons. That of the latter writer has the
fidelity of history ; Walter Scott's picture is the hideous
reality unintentionally softened and decorated by the
poetry of his own mind. Miss Edgeworth sometimes
apologizes for certain incidents in her tales by stating

30 they took place " by one of those strange chances which
occur in life, but seem incredible when found in writ-
ing." Such an excuse evinces a misconception of the

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle's Poetics, 15

principle of fiction, which, being the perfection of the
actual, prohibits the introduction of any such anomalies
of experience. It is by a similar impropriety that paint-
ers sometimes introduce unusual sunsets, or other singu-
lar phenomena of lights and forms. Yet some of Miss 5
Edgeworth's works contain much poetry of narrative.
Manoeuvring is perfect in its way, — the plot and char-
acters are natural, without being too real to be pleasing.
3. Character is made poetical by a like process. The
writer draws indeed from experience ; but unnatural 10
peculiarities are laid aside, and harsh contrasts recon-
ciled. If it be said, the fidelity of the imitation is often
its greatest merit, we have only to reply that in such
cases the pleasure is not poetical, but consists in the
mere recognition. All novels and tales which introduce 15
real characters are in the same degree un poetical. Por-
trait-painting, to be poetical, should furnish an abstract
representation of an individual ; the abstraction being
more rigid, inasmuch as the painting is confined to one
point of time. The artist should draw independently of 2o
the accidents of attitude, dress, occasional feeling, and
transient action. He should depict the general spirit of
his subject — as if he were copying from memory, not
from a few particular sittings. An ordinary painter
will delineate with rigid fidelity, and will make a cari- 25
cature ; but the learned artist contrives so to temper
his composition as to sink all offensive peculiarities
and hardnesses of individuality, without diminishing the
striking effect of the likeness, or acquainting the casual
spectator with the secret of his art. Miss Edgeworth's 30
representations of the Irish character are actual, and
not poetical — nor were they intended to be so. They

1 6 Poetry, ivith reference to Aristotle s Poetics.

are interesting, because they are faithful. If there is
poetry about them, it exists in the personages them-
selves, not in her representation of them. She is only
the accurate reporter in word of what was poetical in
5 fact. Hence, moreover, when a deed or incident is
striking in itself, a judicious writer is led to describe it
in the most simple and colorless terms, his own being
unnecessary ; for instance, if the greatness of the action
itself excites the imagination, or the depth of the suffer-
to ing interests the feelings. In the usual phrase, the cir-
cumstances are left "to speak for themselves."

Let it not be said that our doctrine is adverse to that
individuality in the delineation of character which is a
principal charm of fiction. It is not necessary for the
15 ideality of a composition to avoid those minuter shades
of difference between man and man which give to
poetry its plausibility and life ; but merely such viola-
tion of general nature, such improbabilities, wanderings,
or coarsenesses, as interfere with the refined and deli-
20 cate enjoyment of the imagination ; which would have
the elements of beauty extracted out of the confused
multitude of ordinary actions and habits, and. combined
with consistency and ease. Nor does it exclude the
introduction of imperfect or odious characters. The
25 original conception of a weak or guilty mind may have
its intrinsic beauty ; and much more so, when it is con-
nected with a tale which finally adjusts whatever is
reprehensible in the personages themselves. Richard
and lago are subservient to the plot. Moral excellence
3° in some characters may become even a fault. The Cly-
temnestra of Euripides is so interesting that the divine
vengeance, which is the main subject of the drama,

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 17

seems almost unjust. Lady Macbeth, on the contrary,
is the conception of one deeply learned in the poetical
art. She is polluted with the most heinous crimes, and
meets the fate she deserves. Yet there is nothing in
the picture to offend the taste, and much to feed the 5
imagination. Romeo and Juliet are too good for the
termination to which the plot leads ; so are Ophelia and
the Bride of Lammermoor. In these cases there is
something inconsistent with correct beauty, and there-
fore unpoetical. We do not say the fault could be 10
avoided without sacrificing more than would be gained ;
still it is a fault. It is scarcely possible for a poet
satisfactorily to connect innocence with ultimate unhap-
piness, when the notion of a future life is excluded.
Honors paid to the memory of the dead are some 15
alleviation of the harshness. In his use of the doctrine
of a future life, Southey is admirable. Other writers
are content to conduct their heroes to temporal happi-
ness ; — Southey refuses present comfort to his Ladur-
lad, Thalaba, and Roderick, but carries them on through 20
suffering to another world. The death of his hero is
the termination of the action ; yet so little in two of
them, at least, does this catastrophe excite sorrowful
feelings, that some readers may be startled to be re-
minded of the fact. If a melancholy is thrown over the 25
conclusion of the Roderick, it is from the peculiarities
of the hero's previous history.

4. Opinions, feelings, manners, and customs, are made
poetical by the delicacy or splendor with which they are
expressed. This is seen in the ode, elegy, sonnet, and 3°
ballad ; in which a single idea, perhaps, or familiar oc-
currence, is invested by the poet with pathos or dignity.

1 8 Poetry, with reference to Aristotle's Poetics.

The ballad of Old Robin Gray will serve for an instance,
out of a multitude ; again, Lord Byron's Hebrew Melody,
beginning, " Were my bosom as false," etc. ; or Cowper's
Lines on his Mother's Picture; or Milman's Funeral
5 Hymn in the Martyr of Antioch ; or Milton's Sonnet on
his Blindness ; or Bernard Barton's Dream. As pictur-
esque specimens, we may name Campbell's Battle of the
Baltic ; or Joanna Baillie's Chough and Crow ; and for
the more exalted and splendid style, Gray's Bard ; or Mil-
10 ton's Hymn on the Nativity ; in which facts, with which
every one is familiar, are made new by the coloring of
a poetical imagination. It must all along be observed
that we are not adducing instances for their own sake ;
but in order to illustrate our general doctrine, and to
15 show its applicability to those compositions which are,
by universal consent, acknowledged to be poetical.

The department of poetry we are now speaking of is
of much wider extent than might at first sight appear.
It will include such moralizing and philosophical poems
20 as Young's Night Thoughts and Byron's Childe Harold.
There is much bad taste, at present, in the judgment
passed on compositions of this kind. It is the fault of
the day to mistake mere eloquence for poetry ; whereas,
in direct opposition to the conciseness and simplicity of
25 the poet, the talent of the orator consists in making
much of a single idea. " Sic dicet ille ut verset saepe
multis modis eandem et unam rem, ut haereat in eadem
commoreturque sententia." This is the great art of
Cicero himself, who, whether he is engaged in state-
so ment, argument, or raillery, never ceases till he has ex-
hausted the subject ; going round about it, and placing
it in every different light, yet without repetition to

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 19

offend or weary the reader. This faculty seems to con-
sist in the power of throwing off harmonious verses,
which, while they have a respectable portion of mean-
ing, yet are especially intended to charm the ear. In
popular poems, common ideas are unfolded with copi- 5
ousness, and set off in polished verse — and this is called
poetry. Such is the character of Campbell's Pleasures
of Hope ; it is in his minor poems that the author's
poetical genius rises to its natural elevation. In Childe
Harold, too, the writer is carried through his Spenserian 10
stanza with the unweariness and equable fulness of ac-
complished eloquence ; opening, illustrating, and height-
ening one idea, before he passes on to another. His
composition is an extended funeral sermon over buried
joys and pleasures. His laments over Greece, Rome, 15
and the fallen in various engagements, have quite the
character of panegyrical orations ; while by the very
attempt to describe the celebrated buildings and sculp-
tures of antiquity, he seems to confess that they are the
poetical text, his the rhetorical comment. Still it is a 20
work of splendid talent, though, as a whole, not of the
highest poetical excellence. Juvenal is perhaps the only
ancient author who habitually substitutes declamation
for poetry.

5. The philosophy of mind may equally be made sub- 25
servient to poetry, as the philosophy of nature. It is a
common fault to mistake a mere knowledge of the heart
for poetical talent. Our greatest masters have known
better; — they have subjected metaphysics to their artv^
In Hamlet, Macbeth, Richard, and Othello, the philoso- 30
phy of mind is but the material of the poet. These
personages are ideal ; they are effects of the contact of

2O Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics.

a given internal character with given outward circum-
stances, the results of combined conditions determining
(so to say) a moral curve of original and inimitable
properties. Philosophy is exhibited in the same sub-
5 serviency to poetry in many parts of Crabbe's Tales of
the Hall. In the writings of this author there is much
to offend a refined taste ; but, at least in the work in
question, there is much of a highly poetical cast. It is
a representation of the action and reaction of two minds

10 upon each other and upon the world around them.
Two brothers of different characters and fortunes, and
strangers to each other, meet. Their habits of mind,
the formation of those habits by external circumstances,
their respective media of judgment, their points of mu-

15 tual attraction and repulsion, the mental position of each
in relation to a variety of trifling phenomena of every-
day nature and life, are beautifully developed in a series
of tales moulded into a connected narrative. We are
tempted to single out the fourth book, which gives an

20 account of the childhood and education of the younger
brother, and which for variety of thought as well as
fidelity of description is in our judgment beyond praise.
The Waverley Novels would afford us specimens of a
similar excellence. One striking peculiarity of these

25 tales is the author's practice of describing a group of
characters bearing the same general features of mind,
and placed in the same general circumstances ; yet so
contrasted with each other in minute differences of
mental constitution, that each diverges from the com-

3° mon starting-point into a path peculiar to himself. The
brotherhood of villains in Kenilworth, of knights in
Ivanhoe, and of enthusiasts in Old Mortality, are in-

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 21

stances of this. This bearing of character and plot on
each other is not often found in Byron's poems. The
Corsair is intended for a remarkable personage. We
pass by the inconsistencies of his character, considered
by itself. The grand fault is that, whether it be natural 5
or not, we are obliged to accept the author's word for
the fidelity of his portrait. We are told, not shown,
what the hero was. There is nothing in the plot which
results from his peculiar formation of mind. An every-
day bravo might equally well have satisfied the require- 10
ments of the action. Childe Harold, again, if he is any-
thing, is a being professedly isolated from the world, and
uninfluenced by it. One might as well draw Tityrus's
stags grazing in the air, as a character of this kind ;
which yet, with more or less alteration, passes through 15,
successive editions in his other poems. Byron had very
little versatility or elasticity of genius ; he did not know
how to make poetry out of existing materials. He de-
claims in his own way, and has the upperhand as long
as he is allowed to go on ; but, if interrogated on prin- 20
ciples of nature and good sense, he is at once put out
and brought to a stand.

Yet his conception of Sardanapalus and Myrrha is fine
and ideal, and in the style of excellence which we have
just been admiring in Shakspeare and Scott. 25.

These illustrations of Aristotle's doctrine may suffice.

Now let us proceed to a fresh position ; which, as be-
fore, shall first be broadly stated, then modified and ex-
plained. How does originality differ from the poetical

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle's Poetics.

talent? Without affecting the accuracy of a definition,
we may call the latter the originality of right moral
feeling.

Originality may perhaps be defined the power of ab-

5 Stracting for one's self, and is in thought what strength
mind is in action. Our opinions are commonly de-
rived from education and society. Common minds trans-
mit as they receive, good and bad, true and false ; minds
of original talent feel a continual propensity to investi-

10 gate subjects and strike out views for themselves ; — so
that even old and established truths do not escape modi-
fication and accidental change when subjected to this
process of mental digestion. Even the style of original
writers is stamped with the peculiarities of their minds.

15 When originality is found apart from good sense, which
more or less is frequently the case, it shows itself in
paradox and rashness of sentiment, and eccentricity of

^outward conduct. \Poetry, on the other hand, cannot be
separated from its good sense, or taste, as it is called ;

20 which is one of its elements. It is originality energiz-
ing in the world of beauty ; the originality of grace,
purity, refinement, and good feeling. We do not hesi-
tate to say that poetry is ultimately founded on correct
moral perception ; that where there is no sound principle

25 in exercise there will be no poetry ; and that on the
whole (originality being granted) in proportion to the
standard of a writer's moral character will his compo-
sitions vary in poetical excellence. This position, how-
ever, requires some explanation.

30 Of course, then, we do not mean to imply that a poet
must necessarily display virtuous and religious feeling ;
we are not speaking of the actual material of poetry,

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 23

but of its sources. A right moral state of heart is the
formal and scientific condition of a poetical mind. Nor
does it follow from our position that every poet must in
fact be a man of consistent and practical principle ; ex-
cept so far as good feeling commonly produces or results 5
from good practice. Burns was a man of inconsistent
life ; still, it is known, of much really sound principle at
bottom. Thus his acknowledged poetical talent is in
nowise inconsistent with the truth of our doctrine, which
will refer the beauty which exists in his compositions to 10
the remains of a virtuous and diviner nature within him.
Nay, further than this, our theory holds good, even
though it be shown that a depraved man may write a
poem. As motives short of the purest lead to actions
intrinsically good, so frames of mind short of virtuous 15
will produce a partial and limited poetry. But even
where this is instanced, the poetry of a vicious mind
will be inconsistent and debased ; that is, so far only
poetry as the traces and shadows of holy truth still re-
main upon it. On the other hand, a right moral feeling 20
places the mind in the very centre of that circle from
which all the rays have their origin and range ; whereas
minds otherwise placed command but a portion of the
whole circuit of poetry. Allowing for human infirmity
and the varieties of opinion, Milton, Spenser, Cowper, 25
Wordsworth, and Southey may be considered, as far as
their writings go, to approximate to this moral centre.
The following are added as further illustrations of our
meaning. Walter Scott's centre is chivalrous honor ;
Shakspeare exhibits the characteristics of an unlearned 30
and undisciplined piety ; Homer the religion of nature
and conscience, at times debased by polytheism. All

24 Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics.

these poets are religious. The occasional irreligion of
Virgil's poetry is painful to the admirers of his general
taste and delicacy. Dryden's Alexander's Feast is a
magnificent composition, and has high poetical beauties ;

5 but to a refined judgment there is something intrinsi-
cally unpoetical in the end to which it is devoted, the
praises of revel and sensuality. It corresponds to a
process of clever reasoning erected on an untrue foun-
dation — the one is a fallacy, the other is out of taste.

10 Lord Byron's Manfred is in parts intensely poetical ;
yet the delicate mind naturally shrinks from the spirit
which here and there reveals itself, and the basis on
which the drama is built. From a perusal of it we should
infer, according to the above theory, that there was right

15 and fine feeling in the poet's mind, but that the central
and consistent character was wanting. From the history
of his life we know this to be the fact. The connexion
between want of the religious principle and want of
poetical feeling is seen in the instances of Hume and

20 Gibbon, who had radically unpoetical minds. Rousseau,
it may be supposed, is an exception to our doctrine.
Lucretius, too, had great poetical genius ; but his work
evinces that his miserable philosophy was rather the re-
sult of a bewildered judgment than a corrupt heart.

25 According to the above theory, Revealed Religion
should be especially poetical — and it is so in fact. While
its disclosures have an originality in them to engage the
intellect, they have a beauty to satisfy the moral nature.
It presents us with those ideal forms of excellence in

30 which a poetical mind delights, and with which all grace
and harmony are associated. It brings us into a new
world — a world of overpowering interest, of the sub-

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 25

limest views and the tenderest and purest feelings. The
peculiar grace of mind of the New Testament writers is
as striking as the actual effect produced upon the hearts
of those who have imbibed their spirit. At present we
are not concerned with the practical, but the poetical, 5
nature of revealed truth. With Christians, a poetical
view of things is a duty, — we are bid to color all things
with hues of faith, to see a Divine meaning in every event,
and a superhuman tendency. Even our friends around
are invested with unearthly brightness — no longer 10
imperfect men, but beings taken into Divine favor,
stamped with His seal, and in training for future hap-
piness. It may be added that the virtues peculiarly
Christian are especially poetical — meekness, gentleness,
compassion, contentment, modesty, not to mention the 15
devotional virtues ; whereas the ruder and more ordinary
feelings are the instruments of rhetoric more justly than
of poetry — anger, indignation, emulation, martial spirit,
and love of independence.

A few remarks on poetical composition, and we have 20
done. The art of composition is merely accessory to the
poetical talent. But where that talent exists, it neces-
sarily gives its own character to the style, and renders
it perfectly different from all others. As a poet's habits
of mind lead to contemplation rather than to communi- 25
cation with others, he is more or less obscure according
to the particular style of poetry he has adopted ; les/ so
in epic, or narrative and dramatic representation, — more
so in odes and choruses. He will be obscure, moreover,

26 Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics.

from the depth of his feelings, which require a congenial
reader to enter into them — and from their acuteness,
which shrinks from any formal accuracy in the expres-
sion of them. And he will be obscure, not only from
5 the carelessness of genius, and from the originality of
his conceptions, but it may be from natural deficiency
in the power of clear and eloquent expression, which,
we must repeat, is a talent distinct from poetry, though
often mistaken for it.

10 However, dexterity in composition, or eloquence as it
may be called in a contracted sense of the word, is mani-
festly more or less necessary in every branch of litera-
ture, though its elements may be different in each.
j Poetical eloquence consists, first, in the power of illus-

id tration ; which the poet uses, not as the orator, volun-
tarily, for the sake of clearness or ornament, but almost
by constraint, as the sole outlet and expression of intense
inward feeling. This spontaneous power of comparison
may, in some poetical minds, be very feeble ; these of

20 course cannot show to advantage as poets. Another
talent necessary to composition is the power of unfold-
ing the meaning in an orderly manner. A poetical
mind is often too impatient to explain itself justly ; it
is overpowered by a rush of emotions, which sometimes

25 want of power, sometimes the indolence of inward en-
joyment, prevents it from describing^rNothing is more
difficult than to analyze the feelings of our own minds ;
and the power of doing so, whether natural or acquired,
is clearly distinct from experiencing them. Yet, though

30 distinct from the poetical talent, it is obviously necessary
to its exhibition. Hence it is a common praise bestowed
upon writers, that they express what we have often felt,

Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics. 27

but could never describe. The power of arrangement,
which is necessary for an extended poem, is a modifica-
tion of the same talent, being to poetry what method is
to logic. Besides these qualifications, poetical compo-
sition requires that command of language which is the 5
mere effect of practice. The poet is a compositor ;
words are his types ; he must have them within reach,
and in unlimited abundance. Hence the need of careful
labor to the accomplished poet, — not in order that his|
diction may attract, but that the language may be sub- 10
jected to him. He studies the art of composition as we
might learn dancing or elocution ; not that we may
move or speak according to rule, but that, by the very
exercise, our voice and carriage may become so unem-
barrassed as to allow of our doing what we will with 15
them.

A talent for composition, then, is no essential part of
poetry, though indispensable to its exhibition. Hence
it would seem that attention to the language, for its own
sake, evidences not the true poet, but the mere artist. 20
Pope is said to have tuned our tongue. We certainly
owe much to him — his diction is rich, musical, and ex-
pressive ; still he is not on this account a poet ; he elab-
orated his composition for its own sake. If we give
him poetical praise on this account, we may as appro- 25
priately bestow it on a tasteful cabinet-maker. This
does not forbid us to ascribe the grace of his verse to
an inward principle of poetry, which supplied him with
archetypes of the beautiful and splendid to work by.
But a similar gift must direct the skill of every fancy- 30
artist who subserves the luxuries and elegances of life.
On the other hand, though Virgil is celebrated as a

28 Poetry, with reference to Aristotle s Poetics.

master of composition, yet his style is so identified with
his conceptions, as their outward development, as to pre-
clude the possibility of our viewing the one apart from
the other. In Milton, again, the harmony of the verse

5 is but the echo of the inward music which the thoughts
of the poet breathe. In Moore's style, the ornament
continually outstrips the sense. Cowper and Walter
Scott, on the other hand, are slovenly in their versifica-
tion. Sophocles writes, on the whole, without studied

10 attention to the style ; but Euripides frequently affected
a simplicity and prettiness which exposed him to the ridi-
cule of the comic poets. Lastly, the style of Homer's
poems is perfect in their particular department. It is
free, manly, simple, perspicuous, energetic, and varied.

15 It is the style of one who rhapsodized without deference
to hearer or judge, in an age prior to the temptations
which more or less prevailed over succeeding writers —
before the theatre had degraded poetry into an exhibi-
tion, and criticism narrowed it into an art.

January, 1829.

Note by the Author. 29

NOTE BY THE AUTHOR.

[As printed in the author's Essays Critical and Historical, this essay is
followed by a note, the subjoined extract from which is especially relevant
to the topic discussed.]

The following reference is made to it [the foregoing
article] in my " Religious Opinions" p. 1 1 : "I recollect
how dissatisfied Dr. Whately was with an article of
mine in the London Review, which Blanco White good-
humoredly only called ' Platonic ' ; " and indeed it cer-
tainly omits one of the essential conditions of the idea
of Poetry, its relation to the affections, — and that in
consequence, as it would seem, of confusing the func-
tion and aim of Poetry with its formal object. As the
aim of civil government is the well-being of the governed,
and its object is expediency ; as the aim of oratory is to
persuade, and its object is the probable ; as the function
of philosophy is to view all things in their mutual rela-
tions, and its object is truth ; and as virtue consists in
the observance of the moral law, and its object is the
right ; so Poetry may be considered to be the gift of
moving the affections through the imagination, and its
object to be the beautiful

I should observe that several sentences of this Essay,
which in passing through the press were, by virtue of an
editor's just prerogative, altered or changed, now stand
as I sent them to him.

NOTES.

1 4. Aristotle. Poetics 6. 7-9 : " All tragedy then must have six parts
. . . : plot, character, sentiment, style, decoration, music. ... Of these
the most important is the arrangement of incident; for tragedy is a
representation, not of persons, but of action and life, happiness and unhap-
piness; and happiness and unhappiness consist in action, the end being
action, not a quality."

5 7. Minute diligence. Cf. Mahaffy on the Poetics {Hist. Grk. Lit.
2. 410) : " One almost suspects that the author was beginning to disbelieve
in genius, and attribute artistic success to mere soundness and accuracy of
method. How far truer and more appreciative is the tract of Longinus
on the Sublime ! "

5 15. Frequently instanced. Mahaffy, Hist. Grk. Lit. 2.410: "His
ideal poet seems to have been Sophocles, and his ideal play the (Edipus
Rex."

7 4. " Quern Deus" etc. " Whom a god wishes to destroy, he first
makes mad." A Latin translation of a fragment of Euripides, quoted by
Athenagoras :

"Orav 5£ 8a.ifj.wv dvSpl iropfftvrj KCLKO.
T6i> vovv efiXatye irpurov.

7 21-3. A Bull, etc. Euripides, Baccha 920-2.

8 15. Pronounces Euripides, etc. Poetics 13. 6: " Euripides, whatever
else he may manage ill, yet appears the most tragic of poets."

9 10. " Without a guide." Quoted from Sophocles, (Edipus at Colonos
1588.

9 15. " Decies repetita placebit." Horace, Art of Poetry 365 :

That gives us pleasure for a single view;
And this, ten times repeated, still is new.

9 22. The spectators, etc. Aristotle, Poetics 4. 5.

9 29. Representation of the ideal. Poetics 9. 1-4; cf. Sidney, Defense

32 Notes.

of Poesy 18 25 ff., Shelley, Defense of Poetry 10 9 ff., and the notes on both
passages.

10 2, Phenomenon. Misprint for " phenomena " ?

10 6. Poesis, etc. Bacon, De Augmentis Scientiarum, Book 2, ch. 13.
Compare the similar reflections in his Advancement of Learning, 2. 4. I :
" The use of this feigned history hath been to give some shadow of satis-
faction to the mind of man in those points wherein the nature of things
doth deny it, the world being in proportion inferior to the soul ; by reason
whereof there is, agreeable to the spirit of man, a more ample greatness, a
more exact goodness, and a more absolute variety, than can be found in the
nature of things."

11 10. Figure is its necessary medium of communication. Cf. Shelley,
Defense 4 27 ff.

1115. A metrical garb, etc. Cf. Shelley, Defense 8 8 ff.

128. Ninth Iliad. Probably referring to Iliad 9. 449-453.

129. Nurse of Orestes. ^Eschylus, Choephorce 736-749.

12 29. Empedocles. Cf. Sidney, Defense 3 18 : " So Thales, Empe-
docles, and Parmenides sang their natural philosophy in verses."

13 2. Neither were poets. Cf. Aristotle, Poetics 1.8: "For if they set
forth the principles of medicine or music in metre, people will call them
poets, though, except the metre, there is nothing in common between
Homer and Empedocles ; the one should be called a poet, the other
rather a physicist." See also Sidney, Defense 9 34—10 11.

14 22. Brambletye House. A novel by Horace Smith, published in
1826.

14 26. Has the fidelity of history. Chambers' Cyclopcedia of English
Literature says : " Some of its descriptions of the plague in London were
copied too literally from Defoe."

14 29. Incidents. Printed " Incident " in the Essays Historical and
Critical.

17 19. Ladurlad, Thalaba, and Roderick. Characters respectively of
The Curse of Kehama, Thalaba the Destroyer, and Roderick, the Last of

the Goths.

18 l. Old Robin Gray. By Lady Anne Barnard, d. 6th May, 1825.
The ballad was composed about 1771.

18 5. Milman's Martyr of Antioch, a closet drama founded on the
legend of St. Margaret, was published in 1822 ; Bernard Barton's Dream
in his Poems, 1820.

18 26. " Sic dicet ille," etc. Cicero, Orator 40. 137 : " He will speak
in such a way as to present one and the same thing under different aspects,

Notes. 33

and to rest and dwell upon the same thought." The true reading is some-
what different from that in our text : " Sic igitur dicet ille, quern expetimus,
ut verset saepe multis modis eadem et una in re hsereat in eademque com-
moretur sententia ;" so quoted in Quintilian 9. I. 41, except that una and
in are transposed.

21 13. Tityrus's stags. Alluding to Virgil's First Eclogue, 59 : " So
first in air the nimble stags shall feed . . . , ere from my heart his look
shall pass away."

22 27. Moral character. Cf. Shelley, Defense 42 33 : " The greatest
ppets have been men of the most spotless virtue."

2316. Partial and limited poetry. Cf. Shelley, Defense 43 4-7.
24 22. Lucretius. Cf. Shelley, Defense 24 4.

24 25. Revealed Religion. Cf. Shelley, Defense 5 25 ff., 6 27 ff., 10 8,
14 2 ff., 25 20 ff., 26 13 ff., 27 21 ff., 37 32 ff.

25 29—26 9. He will be obscure, etc. It is natural to think of Robert
Browning in reading this paragraph.

27 20. The mere artist. Is this a prophetic characterization of any
living poet ?

28 5. Echo of the inward music. Cf. Shelley, Defense 9 32 : " Being
the echo of the eternal music."

20. Through the imagination. Cf. Shelley, Defense 14 10 ff.

INDEX OF PROPER NAMES.

^Eschylus 2 14, 5 23, 7 29.
Agamemnon 5 9, 23.
Choephorce 12 9.
Prometheus 3 13.
Thebce (Seven against Thebes}

319.

See also Antigone, Cassandra,
Hermes, Nereids, Oceanus,
Orestes.

Agamemnon 6 2, 18.
Alcestis 3 27.
Antigone 3 4, 21, 32.
Aristotle 1 3, 4, 20, 4 26, 32, 5 11, 8 4,
26, 9 29, 21 26.

Bacchse 7 12.

Bacchus 6 26, 7 17.

Bacon 10 6.

Baillie, Joanna 18 8.

Barton, Bernard 18 6.

Brambletye House 14 22.

Burns 23 6.

Byron 12 27, 18 2, 20, 21 2, 16, 24 10.

Childe Harold 19 9, 21 11.

Corsair 21 3.

See also Childe Harold, Myrrha,
Sardanapalus.

Cadmus 7 9.
Campbell 18 7, 19 7.
Cassandra 6 12.

Charles II. 14 24.
Childe Harold 21 11.
Cicero 18 29.
Clytemnestra 3 27, 16 30.
Cowper 18 3, 23 25, 28 7.
Crabbe 20 5.

Dryden 24 3.

Edgeworth, Miss 14 28, 15 5, 30.
Empedocles 12 29.
Euripides 2 22, 3 26, 7 26, 8 15, 16 31,
2810.

Baccha 5 10, 6 25.
Electra 3 27.
Hippolytus 3 31.
Orestes 3 30.
Ph&nisstz 3 32.

See also Alcestis, Antigone,
Bacchae, Bacchus, Cadmus,
Clytemnestra, Ion, Medea,
Pentheus, Phaedra, Tiresias.

Gibbon 24 20.
Gray 18 9.

Hermes 3 17.
Homer 23 31, 28 12.

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