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IN  THE  CUSTODY  OF  THE 

BOSTON     PUBLIC   LIBRARY 


SHELF    N° 

/X.I 


'^ 


COMMENTARY 

ILLUSTRATING  THE 

POETIC    OF    ARISTOTLE, 

BY  EXAMPLES  TAKEN  CHIEFLY  FROM  THE  MODERN  POETS. 

TO    WHICH    IS    PREFIXED, 

A  NEW  AND  CORRECTED  EDITION 


TRANSLATION  OF  THE  POETIC. 


BY 

HENRY   JAMES   PYE,   Esc^. 


LONDON: 
PRINTED    FOR    JOHN    STOCKDALB,    PICCADILLY. 


M.DCC-XCII. 


■^mm^ 


^      OlyolxVvvv^ 


llj 


■;  .}  /.,, ,. .    /  z  .  / 


PREFACE. 


VV  HEN  I  firft  publiflied  my  tranflation  of  the  Poetic  in 
the  year  1788,  the  Enghfli  language  had  nothing  of  the  kind 
that  could  properly  be  called  its  own.  The  tranflation  by 
Rhymer,  which  Fabricius  mentions,  does  not  I  believe  exift ; 
but  probably  the  notion  of  it  arofe  from  two  treatifes  written 
by  him,  in  which  the  Englilh  dramatic  writers,  and  efpecially 
Shakefpear,  are  moft  partially  and  unjuftly  cenfured  for  fre- 
quent- offences  againft  the  fuppofed  rules  of  the  Stagirite.  The 
verfion  of  Dacier's  tranflation  into  Englifli  can  hardly  be  called 
our  own  ;  and  that  which  was  publiflied  by  an  anonymous 
writer  in  1775,  though  fome  detached  pieces  are  faithfully 
rendered,  is  in  general  as  much  beneath  criticifm  as  it  is  above 
comprehenfion. 

But 


vi  PREFACE. 

But  if  this  was  the  cafe  when  I  ventured  on  the  tafk,  it  did 
not  long  continue  fo.  My  publication  was  foon  followed  by  a 
tranllation  of  the  Poetic  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Twining  :  a  work 
of  diflinguifhed  excellence;  and  which,  had  it  appeared  earlier, 
would  probably  have  precluded  any  attempt  of  mine  on  the 
fame  fubjedf.  For  though  Mr.  Twining,  with  a  modefty  and 
candour  ever  attending  on  real  merit,  obferves  of  my  tranflation, 
that  in  many  places  where  we  differ  if  1  am  right,  he  muft  be 
wrong,  I  am  perfectly  convinced,  that  in  mofl  places  where 
we  differ,  the  contrary  to  what  he  puts  hypothetically  is  in  fa6t 
true.  Yet,  though  I  generally  agree  with  his  fentiments,  as  I 
do  not  always,  I  thought  it  neceffary  to  prefix  an  amended 
edition  of  my  own  tranflation,  to  this  Commentary. 

The  reader  may  be  furprized  after  this  declaration,  to  find 
me  oftener  combating  fome  of  his  opinions  at  length,  than  ac- 
quiefcing  in  his  emendations ;  but  though  I  have  frequently 
mentioned  the  lafl,  had  I  done  it  wherever  they  occurred,  or 
acknowleged  on  every  occalion  the  obligation  this  edition  of  my 
tranllation  owes  to  the  juftice  of  Mr.  Twining's  criticifms,  his 
name  would  have  occurred  in  every  page.  But  where  I  have 
found  myfelf  under  the  neceflity  of  differing  from  his  opinions, 
I  have  always  thought  it  incumbent  on  me  to  give  my  own 
reafons  at  large  for  fo  doing. 

In 


PREFACE.  vii 

In  my  former  preface  I  mentioned  an  intention  of  publifliing 
notes  on  a  much  larger  fcale  than  the  extent  of  the  plan  I  then 
adopted  would  allow,  provided  the.  ground  I  propofed  to  take 
fliould  not  be  pre-occupied  by  Mr.  Nares,  who  had  juft  an- 
nounced to  the  public  propofals  for  a  very  extenfive  work  ap- 
parently of  the  fame  kind  as  that  vvhicb  I  intended.  Finding 
however  that  Mr.  Nares  is  i:iot  for  the  prefent  purfuing  his 
defign,  and  being  informed  by  him,  that  if  he  did  purfue  it 
he  imagined  it  would  not  at  all  interfere  with  mine,  I  went  on 
with  my  undertaking,  and  have  ever  fince  the  appearance  of 
ray  tranilation,  been  employed  in  colle6ting  and  arranging  the 
materials  of  the  Commentary,  which  I  now  venture  to  lay  be- 
fore the  public. 

As  I  do  not  confider  this  as  a  learned  work,  but  as  an  attempt 
to  render  the  precepts  of  Ariftotle  clear  to  the  Englifli  as  well  as 
the  claffical  reader,  and  to  enable  thofe  who  are  converfant  only 
with  the  poets  of  our  own  country,  to  judge  how  far  the  rules 
of  the  Stagirite,  which  have  been  fo  often  quoted  and  fo  much 
mifreprefented  are  really  confonant  with  truth  and  nature,  I 
have  feldom  gone  into  difquifition  on  difficult  and  difputed 
paffages,  in  the  Commentary,  except  when  they  are  conneiled 
with  general  criticifm,  referring  thofe  to  the  notes  on  the 
tjanflation.      Whenever  I   have   done  otherwife,  which  is  in 

very 


viii  PREFACE. 

very  few  inftances,  it  has  been  only  when  the  note  has  been 
too  long  to  be  inferted  at  the  foot  of  the  page  with  any  con- 
venience to  the  reader. 

On  the  fame  principle  I  have  made  it  a  point  to  introduce 
no  quotation  from  the  ancient  writers  unaccompanied  by  an 
Englifli  tranflation  ;  neither  have  I  confined  this  precaution  to 
the  learned  languages,  fince  a  knowlege  of  French  and  Italian 
though  at  prefent  very  general,  is  not  univerfal. 

The  chief  intent  of  my  Commentary  as  I  before  announced, 
is  an  illuftration  of  the  rules,  and  the  examples  confirming  thofe 
rules,  which  are  found  in  Ariftotle's  remarks  on  dramatic  and 
epic  poetry,  from  fimilar  pafTages  in  the  modern,  and  more 
efpecially  in  the  Englifli  poets.  This  will  naturally  involve  in  it 
fome  remarks  on  the  difference  of  the  ancient  and  modern  dra- 
matic apparatus,  and  confl:ru61:ion  of  fable  as  well  narrative  as 
dramatic,  and  the  general  principles  of  imitation  as  effected  by 
the  fine  arts.  To  enlarge  more  on  the  fubjeifl  of  the  Commen- 
tary here,  would  be  fnperfluous ;  but  it  may  not  be  improper 
to  fay  a  few  words  on  the  arrangement  of  it. 

When  I  fiift  looked  over  the  materials  I  had  colletSled  with- 
out order  or  feledtion,   1  imagined  I  law  fomething  like  the 

form 


PREFACE.  ix 

form  in  which  the  Poetic  of  Ariftotle  has  come  down  to  us;  a 
iketch  with  many  inaccuracies,  fome  contradidtions  arifing 
poffibly  from  feeing  the  fame  thing  in  different  hghts  as  relat- 
ing to  different  circumflances,  frequent  repetitions,  and  paffages 
of  the  poets  fometimes  partially  or  erroneoufly  cited  from 
memory,  and  fometimes  only  referred  to. 

A  regular  arrangement  of  this  work  of  Ariflotle  has  foiled 
all  the  endeavours  of  the  critics.  To  find  order  where  order 
never  exifted  is  impoffible.  And  as  to  the  divifion  of  the 
Poetic,  I  thought  the  letting  it  continue  in  chapters,  by 
facilitating  the  comparifon  of  the  tranflation  with  the  ori- 
ginal, more  than  balanced  any  advantage  that  could  be  attained 
by  trying  to  divide  it  according  to  the  fubjedts  of  which  it 
treats. 

Such  being  the  flate  of  the  original  work  itfelf,  it  was  ab- 
folutely  impoflible  to  give  any  regular  form  to  the  Commen- 
tary without  deftroying  all  connexion  between  the  different 
remarks  it  contains  and  the  parts  of  the  Poetic  to  which  they 
allude.  I  have  therefore  broken  the  Commentary  into  notes, 
each  referring  at  top  to  thofe  paffages  of  the  tranflation  from 
which  they  arife.  hi  this  form,  as  in  the  original  work,  it 
will  fometimes  happen,  that  obfervations  on  the  fame  fubje6t 

a  ^vill 


X  PREFACE. 

will  be  thrown  at  a  diftance  from  each  other,  an  inconveni- 
ence which  I  truft  will  be  fufficiently  obviated  by  the  frequent 
references  at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  and  the  index* 

Befides  the  caufes  already  mentioned,  much  of  the  obfcurity 
not  only  in  Ariftotle,  but  in  moft  of  the  ancient  writers,   is 

occafioned  by,  the  frequent  ufe  of  the  parenthefis,  a  ftrong 

,  •;:  :        <[■■[  f/dj  ion  81  ; 

obftacle   both    to    perfpicuity    and   elegance.      This    in    great 

meafure  arifes  from  the  ancients  never  doing,  what  is  fo  fre- 
quently done  by  the  moderns,  throwing  any  obftrvation  that 
cannot  conveniently  be  interwoven  with  the  body  of  the  work,, 
into  a  note ;  a  pradice  which  though  in  general  it  may  have 
a  tendency  to  produce  careleffnefs  of  arrangement  as  well  as 
of  ftyle,  is  fingularly  convenient  in  a  work  of  this  nature  ;. 
but  which  the  ancients  never  adopted,  as  from  the  difficulty 
of  multiplying  copies,  their  compofitions  were  rather  intended 
for  public  recitation  than  private  perufaL. 

Strange  prejudices  have  been  entertained  with  regard  to  this 
celebrated  treatife  of  Ariftotle,  efpecially  in  this  country, 
where  for  want  of  any  tolerable  tranflation  of  it  into  Englifli, 
it  has  either  been  confined  to  the  cabinet  of  the  learned,  or 
feen  through  the  medium  of  French  criticifm.  To  re  id  the 
works  which  have  appeared  in  this  country,  either  cenfuring 

our 


PREFACE.  xi 

our  dramatic  poets  for  deviating  from  the  rules  of  Ariftotle, 
or  apologizing  for  Shakefpear  on  the  fame  account  from  nis 

~  '     1-1  M  rl-rr   •--)-■  .-7.', 

original  and  eccentric  genius,  a  perfon  unacquainted  Avith  me 
work  itfelf  would  be  led  to  imagine,  that  the  three  celebrated 
dramatic  unities,  as  explained  by  Dacier  and  his  countrymen, 
and  the  bloodlefs  adlion,  and  unempaflioned  declamation  of  the 
i  French  theatre,  were  explicitly  enjoined  and  enforced  by  the  rules 
of  the  Stagirite.  But  of  all  thefe  there  is  not  the  leaft  trace ; 
and  the  whole  tendency  of  Ariftotle's  dodlrine  feems  to  be  the 
inftrudlion  of  the  poet  from  the  example  both  of  excellency 
and  defedl  in  the  befl  dramatic  models  then  before  him,  how 
to  arrange  his  fables  in  fuch  a  manner  as  not  to  deviate  from 
the  rules  of  truth  and  nature  either  in  the  general  plan  of 
them,  or  in  the  circumfcribed  form  to  which  by  the  practice 
of  the  Grecian  drama,  enforced  by  cuflom,  law,  and  fuperfti- 
tion,  he  was  forced  to  confine  them.  In  the  firll  circumftance 
alone  can  this  dodlrine  be  reckoned  as  generally  applicable  to 
us,  and  there  we  may  appeal  indeed  from  his  authority,  but, 
to  ufe  the  words  of  M.  Leffing,  '  how  fliall  we  extricate  our- 
*  felves  from  the  force  of  his  argument  ?'  In  the  fecond  it  is 
only  fo  far  applicable  to  our  drama  as  our  drama  refembles 
that  of  Athens, 


a   a  '^'^^"lie 

^^£ri  rijidw  2jhovv- 


xii  PREFACE, 

.ol';if|(gr'^^'^"or'\vhat  Ariftotle  might  fay  himfelf  of  our  great 
poet,  could  he  be  fuppofed  to  judge  of  him,  is  fo  well  expreffed 
in  the  Eflay  on  the  dramatic  Chara6ter  of  FalftafF,  (a  work  I 
have  often  quoted  in  the  following  pages,)  that  I  fhall  make 
no  apology  for  inferting  it  here.  Speaking  of  fome  of  Shaker- 
fpear's  anomalies,  the  author  fays,  '  On  fuch  an  occafion  a 
<  fellow  like  Rhymer,  waking  from  his  trance,  fliall  take  up 

*  his   conftable's  Itaff,    and  charge   this   great  magician,   this 

*  daring  pra6lifer  of  arts  inhibited,  in  the  name  of  Ariftotle 

*  to  furrender,  while  Ariftotle  himfelf,  difowning  his  wretched 

*  officer,  would  fall  probably  at  his  feet,  and  acknowledge  his 

*  fupremacy.  "  O  fupreme  of  dramatic  excellence,  (might 
"  he  fay,)  not  to  me  be  imputed  the  infolence  of  fools.  The 
"  bards  of  Greece  were  confined  within  the  narrow  circle  of 
"  the  chorus,  and  hence  they  found  themfelves  conftrained  to 
"  prailife  for  the  moft  part  the  precifion,  and  copy  the  details 
"  of  nature.  I  followed  them,  and  knew  not  that  a  larger 
"'  circle  might  be  drawn,  and  the  drama  extended  to  the  whole 
"  reach  of  human  genius.  Convinced,  I  fee  that  a  more 
"  compendious  nature  may  be  obtained  ;  a  nature  of  eifedls 
"  only,  to  which  neither  the  relation  of  place,  nor  continuity 
"  of  time,  are  always  eflential." 

On 


PREFACE..  xg^ 

On  firft  confidering  the  fubje6l,  it  really  feems  wonderful  to 
obferve  with  what  fupercilious  contempt  any  deviation  from 
his  fuppofed  rules,  has  been  confidered  by  thofe  who  profefs 
themfelves  difciples  of  the  fchool  of  Ariftotle.  But  our  fur- 
prize  will  a  little  ceafe  when  we  recolledt  with  what  almoft 
divine  honors  the  Ariftotelean  dodlrines  were  once  received 
into  the  univerfities  of  chriftendom  ;  iixfomuch  that  the  philo- 
fopher  of  Stagira  has  been  fometimes  placed  by  the  fide  of  the 
apoftle  of  Tarfus.  For  our  countryman  Roger  Bacon,  in  his 
Opus  Majus  fays,  *  In  a  word,  Ariftotle  hath  the  fame  autho- 
<  rity  in  philofophy  that  the  apoftle  Paul  hath  in  divinity.' 

The  age  of  blind  veneration  is  now  over,  and  Ariftotle,  like 
other  writers,  can  only  be  eftimated  by  his  merit.  It  is  im- 
poflible  that  either  in  philofophy  or  criticifm  he  could  forefee 
and  provide  rules  for  the  changes  fucceeding  centuries  muft 
make  in  the  objects  of  both.  The  encreafed  materials  of  the 
latter,  however,  bear  no  proportion  to  thofe  of  the  former,  yet 
perhaps  even  in  both  whoever  makes  allowance  for  the  differ- 
ence of  manners,  cuftoms,  and  opinions,  accumulated  growth 
of  fcience,  and  more  univerfal  diffufion  of  knowledge,  may 
be  apt  to  think  with  Dr.  Harrifon,  in  Fielding's  Amelia,  that 
Ariftotle  is  not  fo  great  a  blockhead  as  fome  take  him  to  be 
who  have  never  read  him. 

All 


xiv  PREFACE. 

All  the  examples  by  which  I  have  tried  to  illuftrate  the  rules 
of  Ariftotle,  whether  as  excellencies  to  be  imitated,  or  defeats 
to  be  avoided,  I  have  taken  from  the  moft  celebrated  writers. 
I  feel  ftrongly  the  delicacy  of  my  fituation  with  regard  to 
living  writers  in  this  refpe<51:.  To  point  out  the  errors  of  in- 
different authors  would  anfwer  no  end.  I  truft  therefore  no 
author  of  real  and  acknowlecged  merit  will  be  offended  with 
me  for  taking  that  liberty  with  him,  which  I  have  not  fcrupled 
to  take  with  Shakefpear,  Milton,  and  Pope.  Arifliotle  has 
drawn  his  fources  both  of  praife  and  cenfure  from  the  befl 
models ;  the  latter  not  as  breaches  of  any  pofitive  law,  efla- 
bliflied  by  the  capricious  will  of  arbitrary  criticifm,  but  as 
occafional  deviations  from  their  own  general  practice,  on  which 
alone  the  true  principles  of  juft  criticifm  mult  be  founded,  the 
rules  of  which,  like  the  fundamental  laws  of  this  country,  are 
not    founded   on  the  authority   of  imperial  refcripts,  but  on 

•■IJ,    iv 

reafon  and  juftice,  enforced  by  univerfal  confent,  and  fandlioned 
by  the  wifdom  of  ages. 

It  remains  to  mention  the  afliflance  I  have  received.  To 
Mr.  Winftanlev,  bcfidcs  the  oblio-ation  I  owe  to  him  in  common 
with  all  his  readers  for  his  accurate  edition  of  the  Poetic,  as 
well  as  his  judicious  remarks  on  it,  I  am  much  indebted  for 
many  valuable  emendations   and  remarks  which  he  imparted 

to 


PREFACE.  XV 

to  me  while  I  was  engaged  in  the  tranilation.  Mr.  Jackfon 
of  Exeter  had  the  goodnefs  to  look  over  the  few  obfervations 
I  have  ventured  to  hazard  on  mufic.  And  if  what  little  I 
have  faid  on  a  fifter  art,  of  which  I  am  a  warm  admirer, 
though  a  very  incompetent  judge,  has  any  claim  to  the  indul- 
gence of  the  public,  I  owe  it  to  the  obliging  communications 
of  Mr.  Hodges,  who  is  not  more  enabled,  by  the  verfatility  of 
his  genius,  to  inveftigate  every  principle  of  an  art  in  which 
he  fo  much  excels,  than  he  is  ready  on  all  occafions  to  exert  his 
eood  offices  for  the  afliftance  and  advantage  of  his  friends. 

In  regard  to  quotations,  fbme  of  my  readers  may  think  I  have 
been  too  profufe,  and  others  too  fparing.  Books  of  ready  occur- 
rence I  have  feldom  quoted  at  any  length,  except  when  the  fub- 

'ji.""inij  oAii.  - 
jed:  required  particular  inveftigation ;  but  to  the   beft  of  my 

jilunllJL 
recolle6tion  1  have  never  borrowed  a  thought  from  any  writer 

without  acknowledging  it.  From  the  Dramaturgic  of  M. 
Lefling  1  have  occafionally  inferted  large  extradls,  as  it  is  a 
work  not  generally  known,  nor  yet  tranflated  into  our  lan- 
guage, though  abounding  with  juft  and  original  criticifm  ; 
and  I  Ihall  even  here  avail  myfelf  of  his  concluding  words  as 
a  kind  of  apology  for  what  may  pofiibly  be  objected  againft 
parts  of  the  following  work.  '  Let  my  readers  remember 
*  that  thefe  papers  are  not  intended  to  form  a  dramatic  fyllem. 

*  1  am 


xvi  PREFACE. 

*  I  am  not  obliged  to  folve  all  the  difficulties  that  I  myfelf 

*  ftart.      It  is  of  little  confequence  if  my  thoughts  are  fuffici- 

*  ently  connected,  or  if  they  are  fometimes  contradictory.     It 

*  is  enough  if  they  may  furnifli  matter  on  which  my  reader 
«  may  exercife  his  own  judgment.  I  only  wifli  to  fcatter  fer- 
<  menta  cognitionis.* 


The  Reader  Is  requefted  to  corre<5t  the  following  Errors  of  the  Prefs. 

Page  1 6,  [b]  line  2  from  the  bottom,  for  tranflator,  read  the  tranflator. 
Page  6i,  [g]  line  2  from  the  bottom,  for  T/Kja-lifl/ao-i,  read  -arfioiTliUxa-i, 
Page  20r,  [i]  line  7  from  the  bottom,  for  attendant,  read  attendants. 
Page  395,  line  3,  for  condufive,  read  conclufive. 
Page  401,  lines  13,  14,  for  Ilius  and  agnum,  read  Illius  and  agnus. 
Page  496,  line  10,  for  fbew  read  fliews. 


THE 


THE 


POETIC    OF    ARISTOTLE. 


CHAP. 


OF   THE   NATURE  OF   POETRY,    AND    THE    OTHER  IMITATIVE   ARTS 
WITH     WHICH     IT     IS     CONNECTED,     IN     GENERAL  j  ^.TOGEXHER 

WITH     THEIR     DIFFERENCES. OF     THE     FIRST     DIFFERENCE  j 

THE  MEANS  BY  WHICH   THEY  IMITATE. 


X  PROPOSE  to  treat  of  the  Poetic  Art  itfelf,  and  its  feveral  fpeciesj 
-■■  of  the  power  poffeffed  by  each,  and  what  arrangement  of  fable  is 
mofl  calculated  to  produce  poetical  excellence  -,  of  the  number  and 
quality  of  its  parts,  and  of  the  other  things  belonging  to  the  fubje<5t ; 
beginning,  according  to  the  natural  order,  with  its  firfl  principles. 

B  The 


2  .  THE    POETIC  Chap.  i. 

The  Epopee  and  Tragedy,  as  alfo  Comedy  and  DIthyrambics,  and 
the  greateft  part  of  thofe  compofitions  which  are  fet  to  the  flute  and  the 
lyre,  all  agree  in  the  general  charafter  of  being  imitations :  but  they 
are  diftinguifhed  from  each  other  by  three  circumftances  ;  either  by  ufing 
means  of  imitation  different  in  their  kind,  or  by  the  difference  of  the 
things  imitated,  or  by  imitating  in  a  different  manner. 

For  as  there  are  artifts,  who,  fome  through  fkill,  and  fome  through 
praftice,  imitate  many  things  by  colours  and  lines,  and  others  by  the 
voice  [a]  ;  fo  all  the  arts  juft  mentioned  effed:  an  imitation  by  means 
of  rhythm  [bJ,  of  language,  and  of  harmony  j  and  thefe  either  feparate 
or  mixed.  Thofe  things,  for  example,  which  are  fct  to  the  flute  or  the 
lyre,  or  any  other  inftrument  of  the  fame  powers,  as  the  pipe,  imitate 
by  rhythm  and  harmony  alone  ;  while  the  dance  imitates  by  rhythm 
only,  independant  of  harmony;  for  there  are  fome  dancers  who,  regu- 

[a]  I  fee  no  reafoii  for  fubflituting  iJi'  ajj,!fo7v,  for  Six  rtj?  ipwi/^i,  in  this  place,  as  is  pro- 
pofed  by  Heinfius,  Dacier,  and  Batteux  :  ^^u/jtcicn,  a-)(jl\^ix,tTi,  and  ip^jnif,  are  the  words 
oppofed  to  |Ju9/*w,  Ai-ya,  and  duxon'o.,  and  not  (fia  Tip^vi?,  and  Jijc  fl-umOsi'a?,  as  Batteux 
has  fuppofed.  "  Les  uns  executent  par  certains  pratiques  de  I'art,  les  autres  par  I'habitude 
*'  feul,  quelquefuns  par  I'un  et  I'autre  enfemble  ;  de  meme — I'imitation  fe  fait  ou  par  un  feul 
"  de  ces  moyens,  (i.  e.  le  rhythm,  la  parole,  et  le  chant,)  ou  par  plufieurs  enfemble."  But 
I  do  not  fee  what  oppofition  there  can  be  between  the  manner  by  which  a  perfon  acquires 
excellence  in  one  art,  and  the  means  he  ufcs  to  efFecl  an  imitation  in  another.  The  imitation 
Sta.  Tr,f  fwj-jjj  does  not  mean  by  words,  but  by  founds,  like  the  imitation  of  the  fmging  of 
birds,  or  that  efFeded  by  vocal  mufic,  when  the  artift  tries  to  make  the  found  "  an  echo  to 
«  the  fenfe." 

[b]  By  rhythm,  is  to  be  underftood,  cadence,  time,  or  movement,  'Pv^/^h,  ra'^iy 
ijM./ii£Xof  aKcAaOs  ci^j*oi/i»j,     SuiDAS. 

lating 


Chap.  I.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  3. 

lating  their  geflurcs  by  rhythm,    can  imitate  manners,  paflions,  and 
ailions. 

The  Epopee  ufcs  pl.iin  language  or  verfe,  either  mixing  different 
meafures,  or  confining  itlelf  to  one  fort,  as  has  continued  the  practice 
to  the  prefent  time  [cj.     For  elfe  there  would  be  no  general  name  by 

which 


[c]  That  is,  unlefs  all  Imit.itlon,  by  means  of  language  only,  as  well  In  profe,  and  verfe 
of  different  forts,  as  in  hexameter  verfe  alone,  which  is  appropriated  to  the  regular  epic  poem, 
can  be  comprehended  under  the  general  name  of  Epopee,  there  will  be  no  common  charafter 
under  which  fuch  compofitions  can  be  claffed.  That  the  word  'E-rrtiTronx  had  tliis  extenfive 
meanin"-,  as  well  as  the  more  limited  fenfe  in  which  Ariftotle  afterwards  ufes  it,  will  appear 
from  the  authorities  quoted  by  Heinfms,  note  8,  on  this  chapter,  and  from  Batteux,  and 
Harles,  and  Voflius  De  Artis  Poeticae  Natura,  p.  279,  edit.  Rumbach.  The  Monthly 
Reviewer,  in  his  criticifm  on  Cooke's  edition  of  the  Poetic,  is  of  opinion,  that  ou^lu  ya.^ 
is  connected  with  TraTxt  -rvy-^ai/sinv  B(rai  jU.i^i/.r,a-£i?  to  (tuvoXov.  But  this  will  throw  the 
principal  fubjeft  of  this  chapter,  and  which  is  continued  through  the  two  fucceeding  ones, 
into  a  parenthefis.     If  this  fenfe  is  adopted,  I  would  rather  read,  if  it  were  not  too  bold  an 

alteration,  ou(?£i/  yi^   ccv  'i'xjiiii.iv   ovofAxa-i   xoii/oi/ IIAHN /^i^na-ii',  01  ai/9(j£07ro'i  ys  h.t.  A. 

confiderlng  -n-oToiro  as  a  verb  neuter,  as  it  is  frequently  ufed  by  Ariftotle  in  this  work. 

Many  of  the  commentators,  among  whom  may  be  reckoned  the  celebrated  Metaftafio,  will 
not  believe  that  profe  is  meant  by  XoyoTg  r^iXoi;,  but  think  the  conjundion  h  is  not  disjunctive, 
but  explanatory;  and  fo  Goulflon,  "  fermonibus  nudis,  five  appellare  malumus  metris." 
But,  then,  why  (hould  Ariflotle  produce  profe  examples  ?  For  whether  the  luxpocriy.o)  Xoyoi 
mean  the  dialogues  of  Plato,  or  of  Alexamenes  the  Teian,  mentioned  in  a  fragment  of 
Ariftot.  de  Poetis,  quoted  by  Vlttorio,  and  which  were  in  verfe  ;  it  appears  from  a  fragment 
of  Ariftotle,  quoted  by  Athenasus,  from  another  of  an  anonymous  writer,  preferved  by 
Montfaucon,  in  his  Bibliotheca  Coifliniana,  and  from  Suidas,  that  the  Mimes  of  Sophron 
were  certainly  in  profe.  But  though  Ariftotle,  treating  the  fubjeft  philofophically,  is  obliged 
to  clafs  thefe  compofitions  under  the  general  name  of  'ETroiranm,  it  is  obvious  he  does  not,  as 

B  2  a  critic, 


4  THE    POETIC  Chap.  i. 

which  we  could  diflinguifh  the  Mimes  of  Sophron  and  Xenarchus,  and 
the  Socratic  Dialogues,  or  even  imitations  that  might  be  made  in  iambic, 
elegiac,  or  any  other  verfe  of  the  fame  nature. 

Men,  indeed,  affixing  the  idea  of  poetry  to  verfification,  are  accuftomed 
to  call  fome  elegiac  poets,  and  others  epic  poets,  not  diftinguifhing  them 
by  the  nature  of  the  imitation,  but  from  the  ftrudture  of  the  verfe ;  for 
even  if  a  treatife  on  the  arts  of  medicine  or  mufic  is  compofed  in  verfe, 
they  are  ufed  to  give  the  appellation  of  Poet  to  the  author ;  but  Homer 
and  Empedocles  have  nothing  in  common  with  each  other  except  the 
verfe  ;  therefore,  though  one  indeed  may  juftly  be  ftyled  a  poet,  the 
other  is  rather  a  naturalifl  than  a  poet. 

For  the  fame  reafon,  if  a  perfon,  though  by  mixing  all  the  different 
kinds  of  verfe,  fliould  form  an  imitation,  (like  the  Hippocentaur  of 
Chsremon,  which  is  a  mixed  rhapfody  of  all  meafures)  fliall  he  be  de- 
nied the  name  of  Poet  [d]  ?  This  therefore  is  the  proper  manner  of 
diftinguifliing,  as  to  [eJ  thefe  circumftances. 

a  critic,  countenance  any  idea  of  a  regular  epic  poem,  either  in  profe  or  mixed  verfe  ;  fince 
in  chapter  iv.  he  reckons  the  love  of  verfe  equally  with  the  love  of  imitation,  as  one  of  the 
natural  caufes  of  poetry,  and  in  chapter  xxiv.  he  mentions  the  heroic  meafure  as  folely  calcu- 
lated for  the  Epopee,  and  fays  it  would  be  abfurd  to  ufe  any  other  fort,  or  a  mixture  of  many, 
and  produces  the  compofition  of  Chaeremon  as  an  inftance  of  fuch  abfurdity. 

[d]  I  follow  Hcinfius,  who  propofes  to  remove  the  difficulty  of  this  paflage  by  a  note  of 
interrogation. 

[e]  rifpi  [j.h  au  risTuv,  (one  MS.  reads  tsto)  i.e.  the  obje£ls  in  difpute,  imitation  and 
verfe,  as  eflcntial  charaflers  of  poetry.     See  note  3  of  the  larger  notes  on  this  chapter. 

There 


Chap.  I.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  5 

There  are  fome  kinds  of  poetry  that  employ  all  the  means  that  have 
been  mentioned,  viz.  rhythm,  melody,  and  verfe ;  as  the  Dithyrambics 
and  the  Nomi,  and  Tragedy  alfo,  and  Comedy :  and  yet  thefe  differ 
from  each  other  [f],  fome  ufmg  them  all  at  the  fame  time,  and  others 
in  feparate  parts. 

Thefe  are  the  differences  of  the  arts,  as  to  the  means  by  vv^hich  the 
imitation  is  made. 

[f]  The  Dithyrambics  and  Nomi  ufe  them  all  together,  Tragedy  and  Comedy  only  in 
feparate  parts;  or  as  Ariftotle  explains  it  afterwards  in  chapter  vi.  ro  Sia.  /xrrpwK  'tvtx  (/.qi/ov 
wE/jai'i/Efl-S-ai,  xflsi  TroiXiv  tTspx  Sk»  j(*£ABf.  For  an  account  of  the  Nomi  fee  chapter  ii. 
note  [bJ. 


CHAP. 


THE    POETIC  Chap.  II. 


C  II  A  P.      II, 

OF   THE   SECOND   DIFFERENCE. THE   THINGS  IMITATED. 

OINCE  perfons  adling  are  the  objefts  of  imitation,  and  thofe  peribns 
muft  neceflarily  be  either  good  or  bad ;  (for  the  manners  ahnofl: 
always  arife  from  thefe  circumftances  alone,  it  being  by  virtue  or  vice 
that  all  mankind  differ  from  each  other  as  to  their  manners ;)  the  perfons 
imitated  muft  either  be  reprefcnted  as  better  than  thofe  of  the  prefent 
time,  or  vi^orfe,  or  as  they  a(flually[A]  are.  So  among  the  painters, 
Polygnotus  draws  his  figures  better,  Paufo  worfe,  and  Dionyfius  as  they 
are.  It  is  alfo  evident  that  the  fame  diflindtions  will  be  found  in  each 
of  the  imitations  that  have  been  mentioned,  and  they  will  become  dif- 
ferent from  imitating  different  things ;  for  in  the  dance,  and  in  the 
compofitions  that  are  fet  to  the  flute  and  the  lyre,  thefe  diflindlions  will 
be  found,  as  alfo  in  the  Epopee  which  only  ufes  language  or  plain  verfe; 
for  example.  Homer  forms  his  charadlers  better,  and  Cleophon  as  they 
are,  but  Hegemon  the  Thafian,  who  firft  invented  Parodies,  and  Nico- 
charis  who  wrote  the  Deliad,  make  them  worfe.  The  fime  dilHnftions 
will  be  found  in  the  Dithyrambics  and  Nomi  [b]  ;  as,  for  infbance,  in 

the 

[a]  I  follow  Winftanley  in  this  whole  pafTage,  adding  -J  x«i  tois^tcv;,  which  Batteux 
fays  is  confirmed  by  a  ms. 

[d]  Though  the  printed  editions  in  general  read  jtAijwaj  here,  all  the  Mss.  the  edition  of 
Aldus,  and  the  old  tranflation  of  Valla,  read  vcjiASf,  and  it  appears  that  Timotheus  wrote  a 
poem  of  that  kind,  called  The  Perfians,  a  line  of  which  is  quoted  by  Plutarch  in  his  Life  of 

J  Philopocmon. 


Chap.ii.  of    ARISTOTLE.  7 

the  Perfians,  and  Cyclops,  of  Tlmotheus  and  Philoxenes.  And  in  this 
lies  the  difference  between  Tragedy  and  Comedy ;  the  one  making  its 
charadlers  better,  and  the  other  worfe,  than  thofe  of  the  prefent  tirne. 

Philoposmon.  The  No'^o;  was  a  fpecies  of  poem  originally  compofed  in  honour  of  Apollo, 
and  derived  its  name,  not  from  iOf/.oqy  law,  but  from  being  fung  by  fliepherds  ei/  ]ii>(j.o7(; 
(among  the  paftures).  The  Dithyrambics  were  a  fort  of  loofe  poem  in  honor  of  Bacchus ; 
though  the  name  was  fometimes  ufed  for  lyric  poetry  in  general.  AiSupajwEoi  Asyoi/rai  c» 
AupJJtoi,  «{■  0  TlivSxfoi;,  -AOii  dsrXu;  ot -rrpog  Ai6yv7ou  lf/.uoi.  Comm.  MSS.  in  Arift.  Rhet.  iii. 
apud  Cod.  Laud.  For  a  very  particular  account  of  the  Nomi,  fee  the  Bifhop  of  Chefler's 
learned  and  ingenious  treatife  De  Decreto  Lacedsmoniorum  contra  Timotheum  Milefium. 


CHAP. 


THE    POETIC  Chap.  III. 


CHAP.      HI. 

OF     THE     THIRD     DIFFERENCE. THE    MANNER    OF     IMITATION.— 

ENQUIRY   INTO   THE   FIRST   INVENTION   OF   THE   DRAMA. 

X  HE  third  difference  comprehends  the  manner  in  which  the  imitation 
is  made.  For  the  objed:s  may  be  the  fame,  and  the  imitation  performed 
by  the  fame  means,  and  yet  [a]  in  a  different  manner ;  as,  for  inftance, 
either  hke  Homer,  fometimes  by  fimple  narration,  and  fometimes  by 
affuming  a  different  charaftcr  ;  or  entirely  by  narration  without  affuming 
any  charadler ;  or  by  introducing  all  the  perfons  imitated  as  agents  and 
performers. 

Thefe,  as  we  faid  at  firft,  are  the  three  differences  of  imitation,  viz. 
the  means  by  which  it  is  performed,  the  thing  imitated,  and  the  manner 
how.  So  that  in  the  objedls  of  imitation,  Sophocles  is  the  fame  kind  of 
imitator  with  Homer,  for  they  both  imitate  perfons  of  dignity ;  and  in 
the  manner  of  imitation  with  Ariffophanes,  for  they  both  effeft  it  by 
agents  [b]  and  performers. 

From  the  circumflance  of  imitating  by  perfons  adling,  fome  fay  the 
name  of  Drama  is  derived ;  and  on  this  account  the  Dorians  claim  the 
invention  both  of  Tragedy  and  Comedy  j   (for  the  people  of  Megara 

[a]  The  words  iripui;  S\,  feem  wanting  to  make  this  pafTage  clear. 
[b]  Undoubtedly  Sftavra  and  Trpctrlovret, 

claim 


Chap.  in.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  9 

claim  the  honor  of  Comedy  ;  the  natives,  as  being  invented  there  during 
their  democratical  government,  and  thofe  who  migrated  from  Sicily, 
becaufe  the  Poet  Epicharmus  florifhed  there  long  before  the  titne  of 
Chonnides  and  Magnes  :  while  fome  of  the  Dorians  of  Peloponnefus 
claim  the  invention  of  Tragedy.)  Founding  their  pretenfions  on  the 
names;  for  they  fay  villages  are  by  them  called  com^,  which  the  Athe- 
nians term  DEMI;  and  that  comedies  [c]  have  not  theirnamefromcoMAzo, 
to  revel,  but  from  their  performers  being  baniflied  with  difgrace  from 
cities,  and  obliged  to  wander  from  village  to  village  ;  and  that  they  ufe 
the  word  dran  [d]  to  fignify  act,  or  perform,  but  the  Athenians  ufe 

PRATTEIN. 

And  this  is  fufficient  as  to  the  number,  and  quality,  of  the  differences 
Incident  to  imitation. 


[c]  Though  the  Dorians  are  faid  to  be  the  inventors  of  tragedy  as  well  as  of  comedy,  the 
etymology  of  comedy  only  is  given.  Athenaeus  fays  the  name  of  comedy  was  common  to 
both  dramas,  as  it  is  now  in  fome  degree  among  the  French,  and  as  we  ufe  the  word 
comedian. 

[d]  Hence  the  word  drama. 


CHAP. 


lo  THE    POETIC  Chap.  IV. 


CHAP.      IV. 

OF    THE   ORIGIN    OF     POETRY,    AND    ITS    DIVISION    INTO    SEVERAL 

SPECIES. 

X  O  E  T  R  V  in  general  feems  to  derive  its  origin  from  two  caufes,  and 
thofe  founded  on  nature. 

Imitation  is  congenial  v^^ith  man  from  his  infancy.  One  of  his 
charadleriftic  diftindlions  from  other  animals  is  the  being  moft  addidled 
to  it,  and  acquiring  his  firil  knowledge  by  it ;  and  bclides,  the  delight 
it  gives  is  univerfal  [a].  A  proof  of  this  may  be  drawn  from  the  works 
of  art  J  where  thofe  things  which  we  view  with  pain  in  themfelves,  we 
delight  to  fee  reprefented  as  accurately  as  poffible ;  fuch  as  the  figures 
of  the  moft  favage  wild  beafts,  and  of  dead  bodies.  And  the  reafon  of 
this  is,  that  to  acquire  knowledge  is  not  only  pleafing  to  the  lovers  of 
fcience,  but  to  others  alfo,  though  they  partake  it  in  a  lefs  degree. 
Now,  the  caufe  of  the  delight  taken  in  viewing  thefe  reprefentations 
arifes  from  reafoning  about  the  defign  of  the  artift,  and  difcovering  the 
likenefs,  which  is  in  fome  degree  acquiring  knowledge.  But  when 
it  happens  that  the  objedl  reprefented  has  never  been  feen  before,  the 
pleafure  is  not  derived  from  the  imitation,  but  from  the  execution,  the 
colouring,  or  fome  other  caufe  of  that  kind  [b]. 

[a]  In  the  firft  edition  I  rendered  this  '  delighting  in  every  fpecies  of  it,'  reading  zrSc-i 
for  TSP«^T«f,  which,  were  there  any  authority  for  it,  would  agree  better  with  what  follows. 

[b]  Rerumque  ignarus,  imagine  gaudet,  Virgil. 

I  The 


Chap.  IV.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  ii 

The  love  of  harmony  and  rhythm  being  equally  natural  to  us  with 
that  of  imitation,  (for  verfe  is  evidently  a  fpecies  of  rhythm)  thofe  who 
were  by  nature  moft  addifted  to  thefe  propenfities,  improving  by  de- 
grees, firfl;  produced  Poetry  on  extemporaneous  fubjefts  ;  which  poetry 
was  divided  according  to  the  peculiar  manners  of  the  perfons  who  culti- 
vated it.  Thofe  who  were  of  a  more  ferious  turn,  imitated  noble 
aftions,  and  the  fortunes  of  illuftrious  men  ;  while  others  of  a  more 
humble  genius  imitated  the  adlions  and  fortunes  of  meaner  perfons,  firfl: 
compofing  fatires,  as  the  others  had  hymns  to  the  gods,  and  the  praifes 
of  virtuous  men. 

Wc  can  afcribe  no  poem  of  this  inferior  fort  to  any  perfon  earlier  than 
Homer,  though  it  is  probable  there  were  many.  We  mufl:  begin, 
therefore,  fram  Homer,  in  whofe  Margites  [c],  and  other  compofitions 
of  the  fame  nature,  that  kind  of  verfe  was  introduced  which  is  now 
called  Iambic,  as  being  the  moft  adapted  to  the  fubjeft,  and  which 
name  was  given  it  becaufe  they  ufed  to  fatirize  (i  ambizon)  each  other  in 
that  fort  of  meafure.  And  hence  the  earlier  Poets  came  to  be  diflin- 
guiflied  according  to  their  ufe  of  the  heroic  and  iambic  meafure. 

As  Homer,  therefore,  was  the  greateft  poet  on  ferious  fubjeds,  {land- 
ing alone  in  point  of  excellence,  not  only  from  the  general  merit  of  his 
imitations,  but  from  the  dramatic  form  he  gave  them,  fo  he  alfo  firfl: 
taught  the  proper  fyfl;em  of  comedy,    forming  the  comic  drama  on 

[c]  A  fatirical  poem  written  in  various  meafures  by  Homer.  Margites  was  not  a  real,  but 
a.  fidlitious  name,  derived  from  ^as/jyjij  or  [Axpyo^f  fignifying  foolish,  ignorant.  Sec 
Lefllng's  Dramaturgie. 


C  2  general 


12  THE    POETIC  Chap.  IV. 

general  ridicule  inftead  of  perfonal  inve(5live  ;  for  the  Margltes  has  the 
fame  relation  to  comedy,  that  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyffey  have  to  tragedy. 
And  fucceeding  poets,  each  purfuing  that  kind  of  poetry  which  was 
moft  agreeable  to  his  natural  genius,  became  writers  of  comedy  inftead 
of  fatire,  and  tragedy  inftead  of  epic  poetry ;  the  forms  of  thefe  being 
more  excellent  and  held  in  higher  eftcem  than  the  others. 

To  examine  whether  tragedy  has  acquired  its  perfedl  form,  either 
judged  by  itfelf,  or  with  regard  to  the  reprefentation,  is  another 
matter  ;  but  both  that  and  comedy,  from  being  at  firft  extemporaneous, 
produftions,  were  augmented  by  flow  degrees ;  one  by  the  writers 
of  dithyrambics,  and  the  other  by  the  writers  of  the  phallics  [d], 
which  ftill  continue  countenanced  by  the  laws  of  fome  cities.  And 
this  procefs  will  appear  manifeft  on  examining  [e]  them.  Tragedy, 
after  undergoing  many  changes,  flopped  when  it  had  attained  its  natural 
form.  iEfchylus  firft  encreafed  the  number  of  the  adors  from  one  to 
two,  reduced  the  chorus,  and  made  the  dialogue  the  principal  part  of 
the  Tragedy  [f].  Sophocles  introduced  three  adors  and,  the  painting  of 
the  fcenes.  Till  at  laft,  from  trifling  fable  and  ridiculous  language,  it 
attained  gravity  and  dignity;    and  quitting  the  fatyric  [g]   form,  the 

[d]  A  fort  of  vulgar  poem  in  honor  of  the  rural  deities. 

[e]  I  follow  Winftanley,  who  propofes  to  read  a<jTo7i  for  Kurn;. 

[f]  I  have  here  adopted  the  meaning,  and  indeed,  the  words  of  Mr.  Twining's  tranflation.. 

[g]  Satyric  here  has  no  relation  to  fatiricj  or  farcaftic  poetry,  but  was  akindof  verfe  adapted 
to  the  dance  in  which  the  Satyrs  were  fuppofcd  to  take  delight.  This  Virgil  alludes  to  in  his 
eclogue  V. 

"  Saltantcs  Satyros  imitabitur  Alghefibocus." 

verle 


Chap.  IV.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  13 

verfe  became  Iambic  inftead  of  tetrameter.  The  tetrameter  verfe  was 
nfed  firft  on  account  of  the  poetry  being  in  the  fatyric  form,  and  adapted 
to  the  dance  :  but  when  dialogue  was  introduced,  Nature  herfelf  pointed 
out  the  proper  meafure  -,  fmce  of  all  verfe  the  iambic  is  moll^  calculated 
for  difcourfe,  as  we  frequently  ufe  iambic  meafure  in  common  con- 
verfation,  but  hexameter  very  feldom,  and  only  when  we  get  above  the 
ufual  ftyle  of  dialogue.  After  this  the  number  of  the  adts  [h]  was  en- 
creafed,  and  other  ornaments  added. 

And  this  is  fufficient  concerning  thefe  things  in  general.     To  invefti- 
gate  each  of  them  feparately  would  be  a  work  of  great  length. 

[h]  The  word  ^.tthitoSiov  here,  and  in  fome  other  parts  of  the  Poetic,  fignifies  the  divifion. 
of  the  drama  that  we  call  an  ad.     See  its  definition,  chap.  xii. 


CHAP. 


14  THEPOETIC  Chap.  v. 


C  H  A  P.      V. 

OF    COMEDY. DIFFERENCE    BETWEEN    EPIC    POETRY    AND 

TRAGEDY. 

V_>  OME  D  Y,  as  has  already  been  obferved,  is  an  imitation  of  worfe  [a] 
perfons;  yet  not  fuch  as  are  bad  with  refpedt  to  general  depravity,  but  in 
that  particular  fpecies  of  turpitude  which  is  calculated  to  excite  ridicule. 
And  ridicule  is  produced  by  errors  unattended  by  dangerous  or  fatal 
confequences ;  thus  deformity  of  body  is  ridiculous,  provided  it  is  not 
occafioned  by  pain. 

The  changes  in  tragedy  and  from  whom  they  originated  are  well 
known  J  but  it  is  different  with  regard  to  comedy,  from  its  being  lefs  cul- 
tivated at  firft.  For  it  was  not  till  late  that  the  comic  chorus  was  ap- 
pointed by  the  magistrate,  but  it  was  performed  by  voluntary  aftors,  till 
at  length,  having  attained  certain  forms  peculiar  to  itfelf,  the  writers  of 
comedy  were  deemed  worthy  of  remembrance.  Neverthelefs,  it  is  ftill 
unknown  who  introduced  the  mafks,  the  prologue,  the  number  of  adlors, 
and  other  things  of  that  kind.  Epicharmus  and  Phormis  commenced 
the  pradtice  of  giving  a  fable  to  comedy,  the  origin  of  which  muft  there- 
fore be  derived  from  Sicily :  for  among  the  Athenians,  Crates  was  the 
firft  who  forfook  perfonal  fatire,  and  introduced  a  general  fubjedl  or 
fable. 

£aj  That  is,  worfe  than  thofe  of  the  prefent  time  in  general.    See  chap.  ii. 

The 


Chap.  V.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  15 

The  epopee  agrees  only  with  tragedy  in  ufing  verfe,  and  imitating 
things  of  importance  by  means  of  language;  but  it  differs  from  it  in  only 
ufing  fimple  verfe,  and  being  narrative ;  it  alfo  differs  in  regard  to  length, 
for  tragedy  endeavours  as  much  as  poffible  to  confine  itfelf  to  one  revo- 
lution of  the  fun,  or  only  to  exceed  it  a  little  j  but  the  epopee  is  not 
limited  as  to  its  duration  :  and  even  tragedy,  in  its  origin,  had  the  fame 
latitude  as  epic  poetry. 

As  to  the  parts,  fome  are  common  to  both,  and  fome  peculiar  to 
tragedy.  Whoever,  therefore,  can  judge  of  a  good  or  bad  tragedy,  may 
judge  alfo  of  an  epic  poem  :  for  whatever  is  effential  to  the  epopee  [b] 
may  be  found  in  tragedy,  but  many  things  belong  to  tragedy  that  are 
not  in  the  epopee. 

[b]  Ariftode  feems  here  to  open  thofe  fentiments  of  the  fuperiority  of  tragedy,  which  he 
confirms  in  the  concluding  chapter. 


CHAP. 


i6  THE    POETIC  Chap.  vi. 


CHAP.      VI. 

OF  TRAGEDY,  AND  ITS  PARTS. 

J_<E  AVING  imitation  in  hexameter  [a]  verfe  and  comedy  to  be  con- 
lidered  hereafter,  we  will  now  confine  our  enquiries  to  tragedy,  taking 
its  definition  from  what  has  been  already  faid. 

Tragedy,  then,  is  an  imitation  in  ornamented  language  of  an  adion 
important  and  complete,  and  pofiefTing  a  certain  degree  of  magnitude, 
having  its  forms  diftindl  in  their  refpedlive  parts,  and  by  the  reprefenta- 
tion  of  perfons  a<fling,  and  not  by  narration,  [b]  effecting  through  the 
means  of  pity  and  terror,  the  purgation  of  fuch  paffions. 

By  ornamented  language,  I  mean  language  accompanied  by  rhythm, 
harmony,  and  meafure ;  and  by  the  forms  being  diftindl  in  their  refpec- 
tive  parts,  that  fome  parts  attain  their  end  by  verfe  only,  and  others  have 
the  afliflance  of  mufic. 

£a]  That  is  the  regular  epopee  to  which  hexameter  verfe  was  an  eflential  ornament. 

[b]  The  conjunftion  «AA«,  which  is  omitted  in  all  the  mss.  fliould  certainly  not  be  inferted, 
as  no  oppofition  between  oiTrayiiXix^  and  eAss  >ta»  iplta  can  poflibly  be  intended.  See  Win- 
ftanley's  jiote.  For  a  farther  inveftigation  of  this  celebrated  definition  of  tragedy,  with  the 
various  opinions  of  different  commentators  and  tranflator's  own  conjeftures  (he  prefumes  to  offer 
nothing  more,)  the  reader  is  referred  to  note  i,  ch.  vi.  of  the  Commentary. 

As 


Chap.  vr.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  17 

As  the  imitation  is  performed  by  perfons  adling  ;  in  the  firfl  place  it 
will  be  a  neceHary  conlequence  that  the  decorations  of  the  theatre  muft 
be  confidered  as  a  principal  part  of  tragedy,  and  then  the  mufic,  and  the 
language,  for  thefe  are  the  means  of  imitation.  By  language,  I  mean 
the  compolition  of  the  verfe ;  the  definition  and  power  of  mufic  is  fuf- 
ficiently  obvious. 

Secondly,  as  tragedy  is  the  imitation  of  an  adtlon,  which  adion  is 
reprefented  by  agents,  or  perfons  adiing,  whofe  qualities  muft  be  derived 
from  manners  and  fentiments  (for  by  thefe  we  pronounce  on  the  qualities 
of  actions ;)  manners  and  fentiments  muft  be  included  as  two  natural 
caufes  of  our  aftions,  from  which  all  our  fuccefles  and  difappointments 
are  derived.  The  fable  (I  mean  by  the  fable  the  combination  of  the 
incidents,)  comprehends  the  imitation  of  the  a<ft:ion ;  the  manners 
enable  us  to  decide  on  the  charadlers  of  thofe  who  ad: ;  and  the  fenti- 
ments difcover  the  intention  or  opinion  of  thofe  who  fpeak. 

Every  tragedy,  therefore,  has  fix  parts,  according  to  which  we  decide 
on  its  merit.  The  fable,  the  manners,  the  language,  the  fentiments,  the 
apparatus  of  the  theatre,  and  the  mufic.  And  of  thefe  [c],  two  are  the 
means  by  which  the  imitation  is  performed,  one  the  mode  of  imitation, 
and  the  other  three  the  things  imitated.  And  befides  thefe  there  are  no 
other  parts  ;  but  thefe  are  in  general  ufe,  for  apparatus,  manners,  fable, 
language,  mufic,  and  fentiment,  are  [d]  equally  efi'ential  to  every  tragedy. 

[c]  The  language  and  the  mufic  are  the  means  of  imitation.  The  apparatus,  (including 
the  adiors,  Spui/ls;,')  the  mode  of  imitation.  And  the  fable,  manners,  and  fentiment,  the  things 
imitated. 

[d]  Ariftotle  feems  to  contradiiSt  this  aflertion  when  he  fays,  in  the  next  page,  that  a  tragedy- 
may  exift  without  manners,  though  it  cannot  without  adion.     Winftanley  propofes  to  remove 

D  the 


i8  THE    POETIC  Chap.  vr. 

But  the  principal  of  thefe  parts  is  the  combination  of  the  incidents. 
For  tragedy  is  not  an  imitation  of  particular  perfons,  but  of  actions  in 
general,  of  human  life,  of  good  and  ill  fortune,  for  happinefs  depends  upon 
adion.  The  main  purpofe  or  end  of  human  life  confifts  in  a  certain 
mode  of  adlion  [e]  and  not  in  a  quality ;  and  though  the  manners  of  men 
are  derived  from  their  qualities,  their  happinefs  and  mifery  depend  on 
their  adions.  Adtions,  therefore,  are  not  reprefented  for  the  purpofe  of 
imitating  manners,  though  manners  are  necelTarily  interwoven  with  the 
ad:ion  ;  therefore  aftion  and  fable  are  the  end  of  tragedy,  and  the  end  is 
the  obje(5t  to  be  principally  confidered  in  every  thing.  Tragedy  cannot 
exift  without  aftion,  but  it  may  without  manners,  for  moft  of  the  trage- 
dies of  the  later  writers  are  without  manners  j  there  being  many  who  hold 
the  fame  chara<fler  among  the  poets  that  Zeuxis  did  with  regard  to 
Polygnotus  among  the  painters:  for  Polygnotus  was  [f]  excellent  in 
expreffing  manners,  in  which  the  pictures  of  Zeuxis  were  deficient.  If 
a  fet  of  moral  fentences  fhould  be  put  together  with  the  language  and 
fentiment  well  executed,  it  would  by  no  means  produce  the  effecft  of 
traa:edv,  which  would  be  much  rather  obtained  by  a  tragedy,  that,  pof- 

the  an  from  before  oAiyoi,  and  infert  it  after  i'4-i>'  reading  o<^iV  oCx.  'ly^n  ssxy  v..  r,  A.  and 
making  the  fenfe,  "  Few  ufe  all  thefe  forms,  for  every  drama  does  not  equally  excel  in  appa- 
"  ratus,  manners,  &c." 

[e]  Upx^et^  riii;xcct  ti/ffyeiai  ri  t£Xo?,Ethic.  L.I.ch.viii.  Ariftotle  confidcrs  virtuous  dit- 
pofitions  as  of  little  ufe  unlefs  (hewn  by  virtuous  adtions.  So  Horace,  though  v/lth  fome  dif- 
ference in  the  application, 

'  Paulum  fepultae  dlftat  inertinj 

*  Celata  virtus.' 


[f]    AyaScf,  Mss.  which  I  think  preferable  to  ayoi^xv. 


fefling 


Chap.  VI.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  19 

fclTing  thefe  in  an  Inferior  degree,  had  a  fable,  ^nd  combination  of  inci- 
dents. It  muft  further  be  added,  that  the  peripetia,  or  fudden  revolution 
of  fortune,  and  the  difcovery,  which  are  the  principal  caufes  of  a  tragedy 
being  intercfling,  are  parts  of  the  fable.  And,  befides,  thofe  who  firfl 
attempt  to  write  dramatically,  can  fooner  excel  in  the  language,  and  the 
manners,  than  in  combining  the  incidents,  as  was  the  cafe  of  almofl  all 
the  earlieil  poets. 

The  fable  then  is  the  chief  part,  and,  as  it  were,  the  foul  of  tragedy. 
The  manners  hold  the  fecond  place,  which  we  may  compare  to  the 
coloring  of  a  pidlure ;  the  fineft  colors  laid  on  promifcuoufly  will  not 
pleafe  fo  much  as  a  figure  only  in  chalk.  The  profeffed  end  of  tragedy 
is  to  imitate  an  adion,  and  chiefly  by  means  of  that  a<flion  to  fliew  the 
qualities  of  the  perfons  ading  [gJ. 

Sentiment  holds  the  third  place,  and  its  merit  confifls  in  making  the 
dialogue  confonant  with  the  fable  and  the  charadlers.  And  this  may  be 
done  either  in  the  familiar  or  the  rhetorical  ftyle,  the  [h]  ancients  ufing 
the  former,  and  the  moderns  the  latter.  Manners  may  be  defined,  a 
manifeflation  of  the   intentions  of  the   perfons   adling.     Therefore  [i] 

[g]  As  though  the  intent  of  painting  is  to  imitate  an  objecl  and  not  a  color,  yet  when  the 
objedl  is  painted,  the  color,  though  lefs  effential  than  the  outline  will  ftill  be  (hewn ;  fo  though 
the  profefled  end  of  tragedy  is  to  imitate  an  action,  yet  as  the  qualities  of  the  aftors  muft  be 
difcovered  in  the  courfe  of  the  aftion,  manners  will  become  a  neceflary  appendage  to  fable,  and 
confequently  hold  the  fecond  place  among  the  requifites  of  tragedy. 

[h]  The  fame  obfcrvation  may  be  made  on  the  Englifli  tragic  writers;  the  ftj'les  of  Shake - 
/jaear  and  Thomfon  have  exactly  this  difFcrence. 

[i]  I  have  adopted  the  tranfpofition  propofed  by  Winftanley,  and  which  Batteux  fays  is 
confirmed  by  a  ms.  in  the  king  of  France's  library.     See  Mr.  Twining's  note. 

D  2  thofe 


-20  THEPOETIC  Chap.  VI. 

thofe  pieces  are  deftltute  of  charadteriftic  manners,  in  which  it  is  not 
manifeft  what  the  fpeaker  would  chufe,  and  what  avoid.  Sentiment  is 
the  adual  declaration  that  a  thing  is  Co,  or  is  not  fo,  pr  is  the  aflertion  of 
fome  general  proportion. 

The  fourth  requifite  is  language.  By  language,  I  mean,  as  I  faid  be- 
fore, the  interpretation  of  our  meaning  by  the  ufe  of  words,  and  which 
has  the  fame  power  both  in  verfe  and  profe. 

Of  the  remaining  parts,  the  mufic  holds  the  fifth  place,  and  is  indeed 
the  chief  of  the  ornamental  parts ;  for  the  decorations  of  the  ftage, 
though  very  interefting,  have  the  leaft  connexion  with  the  poetic  art,  the 
power  of  tragedy  being  independent  of  the  performance  and  the  adlors, 
befides  in  preparing  the  decorations  the  art  of  the  manager  of  the  theatre 
is  more  confpicuous  than  that  of  the  poet. 


CHAP. 


Chap.  VII.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  zi 


CHAP.      VII. 

OF     THE     COMBINATION    OF     THE    INCIDENTS. 

Jri.  AVING  defined  thefe  things,  we  will  proceed  to  confider  what  is 
requiute  in  the  combination  of  the  incidents,  fmce  that  is  the  firft,  and 
principal  part  of  tragedy. 

Tragedy,  according  to  our  pofition,  is  an  imitation  of  a  perfeft,  and 
entire  action,  pofleffing  a  certain  degree  of  magnitude  j  for  an  aftion  may 
be  entire  and  yet  want  magnitude.  What  I  mean  by  entire,  is  compre- 
hending in  itfelf  a  beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end.  A  beginning  is  that 
which  does  not  itfelf  neceflarily  follow  any  other  event,  but  to  which 
fome  other  events  may  naturally  fucceed.  An  end  is  juft  the  contrary, 
for  it  is  that,  which,  either  of  neccffity,  or  according  to  the  general  courfc 
of  things,  muft  follow  fome  other  event,  but  requires  nothing  after  it. 
A  middle  requires  other  circumftances  both  to  precede  and  follow  it. 
A  poet  therefore  who  would  form  his  fable  well  ought  not  to  begin  or 
end  it  cafually,  but  fhould  follow  the  ideas  we  have  mentioned. 

As  to  magnitude,  an  animal,  or  any  other  thing  that  has  conftituent 
parts,  to  be  beautiful,  muft  not  only  have  thofe  parts  well  connected,  but 
fliould  alfo  have  a  certain  proper  fize,  for  beauty  depends  on  fize  as  well 
as  fymmetryj  on  which  account  no  very  fmall  animal  can  be  beautiful, 
for  the  view  being  made  in  almoft  an  imperceptible  fpace  of  time,  will  be 
confufed :  neither  can  a  very  large  one,  for  as  the  whole  view  cannot  be 
taken  in  at  once,  the  unity  and  completenefs  that  fliould  refult  from  it 

I  will 


22  THE    POETIC  Chap.  VII. 

will  efcapc  the  fpedlator ;  fuppofe,  for  inftance,  an  animal  ten  thoiifand 
ftadia  in  length.  As,  therefore,  animals  and  other  bodies  (hould  have 
fuch  a  fize  as  may  eafily  be  comprehended  in  one  viev.',  fo  the  dramatic 
fable  fhould  have  fuch  a  length  that  the  [a]  connexion  of  the  circum- 
flances  may  eafily  be  remembered. 

As  to  the  length,  as  far  as  regards  the  time  of  the  performance  and  the 
fpe^ftators,  it  has  no  relation  to  the  poetic  art.  If,  indeed,  an  hundred 
tragedies  were  to  be  adled  fucceffively,  they  muft  be  aded  by  the  hour- 
glafs,  as  they  £\y  was  fometimes  formerly  done.  But  as  to  the  natural 
boundary  of  the  adion,  the  greater  it  is  the  better,  provided  it  be  per- 
fpicuous.  In  fliort,  to  give  the  definition  in  fimple  terms,  that  is  the 
pjoper  boundary  of  the  length,  in  which  by  a  necefFary  or  probable  fuc- 
ceffion  of  incidents,  a  change  of  fortune  from  happinefs  to  mifery,  or 
from  mifery  to  happinefs,  may  be  effeded. 

[a]  I  conceive  this  addition  neceflary  to  explain  clearly  the  meaning  of  Ariftotle.  The 
moft  complicated  and  incoherent  fable  imaginable,  if  it  were  much  fliorter,  might  be  more 
eafily  remembered  than  the  ftory  of  CEdipus  as  to  the  mere  words,  though  the  connexion  of 
the  circumllances  would  be  more  difficultly  retained. 


CHAP. 


Ghap.  vni.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  23 


CHAP.      VIII. 


OF     THE    FABLE. 


JL  H  E  unity  of  a  fable  does  not  depend  on  its  relating  to  one  perfon 
only,  as  fome  people  imagine.  For  as  out  of  the  variety  of  accidents 
that  may  happen  to  one  objedl,  [a]  fome  may  have  no  connexion  with 
each  other;  fo  there  may  be  many  adions  of  one  man  from  which  no 
fmgle  uniform  adtion  can  be  deduced.  From  miftaking  this,  the  error  of 
thofe  poets  who  wrote  the  Heracleid,  the  Thefeid,  and  other  poems  of 
that  fort,  feems  to  have  proceeded  :  for  they  imagined,  as  Hercules  was 
one  perfon,  a  fable  that  related  only  to  him  muft  confequently  pofTefs  the 
proper  unity.  Homer,  as  he  was  fuperior  in  every  thing  elfe,  appears, 
either  from  art  or  natural  genius,  to  have  had  the  moft  excellent  idea  of 
this ;  for  in  compofing  the  OdyfTey  he  did  not  comprehend  all  that  hap- 
pened to  Ulyfles,  as  his  being  wounded  [b]  on  ParnafTus,  or  feigning 

[a]  Tw  y(  hi  inftead  of  tw  yiva,  Heinfius.  Batteux  tranflates  it:  "  Car  de  meme  que, 
«  de  plufieurs  chofes  qui  arrivent  a  un  feul  homme,  on  ne  peut  faire  un  feul  evenement;  de 
"  meme  aufli  de  plufieurs  adions  que  fait  un  feul  homme,  on  ne  peut  faire  un  feul  aiSlion." 
But  I  rather  chufe  to  confider  tw  h)  as  of  the  neuter  gender,  otherwife  there  hardly  feems  a 
fufficient  diftinftion  between  the  illuftration,  and  the  thing  illuftrated,  poetical  aftion  compre- 
hending what  a  perfon  fuffers  as  well  as  performs. 

[b]  It  muft  be  obferved  that  Homer  does  mention  this  circumftance  in  the  OdyfTey,  1.  xix, 
and  from  the  fear  he  is  difcovered  by  Euryclea;  on  which  account  Harles,  in  his  edition  of  the 
Poetic,  corrects  the  paffage  thus  :  oXon  -mXriyrii/xi  jj-h  h  tw  ^o!p^a(r(rt;.•,  OTAE  fj-xv^vcct  wpoiy- 
TTOuiVaS^ai  h  tm  dyspuM.  "  The  wound,  indeed,  becaufe  it  had  relation  to  the  circumftances 
"  of  the  fable ;  but  not  his  feigning  madnefs,  becaufe  it  had  no  connexion  with  it." 

madnefs 


24  THE    POETIC  Chap.  viii. 

madnefs  at  the  afTembling  of  the  army,  between  which  events  there  was 
no  neceffary  or  probable  connexion ;  but  he  confined  the  Odyffey,  and 
the  Ihad  hkewife,  to  one  aftion. 

As,  therefore,  in  the  other  imitative  arts,  the  imitation  is  fingle  when 
one  objedl  is  imitated,  fo  a  dramatic  fable  has  unity  if  it  imitates  one 
complete  ad:ion,  the  parts  of  which  are  fo  conftituted,  that  any  of  them 
being  either  altered  or  taken  away,  would  change  and  confufe  the  whole. 
For  that  can  never  be  efteemed  a  part  of  any  thing  which  makes  no 
fenfible  difference  whether  it  is  there  or  not. 


CHAP. 


Chap.  ir.  OF    ARISTOTLE. 


CHAP.      IX. 

OF    THE    OBJECT    OF    POETRY,    AND    HOW    IT    DIFFERS    FROM 

HISTORY. 

It  appears  from  what  has  been  faid,  that  the  objedl  of  the  poet  Is  not 
to  relate  what  has  adlually  happened,  but  what  may  poffibly  happen, 
either  with  probability,  or  from  necefiity.  The  difference  between  the 
poet  and  the  hiftorian  does  not  arife  from  one  writing  in  verfe,  and  the 
other  in  profe ;  for  if  the  work  of  Herodotus  were  put  into  verfe,  it 
would  be  no  lefs  a  fpecies  of  hiftory  in  verfe  than  it  is  in  profe.  But 
the  difference  conliils  in  this,  that  one  relates  what  has  adlually  been 
done,  the  other  what  may  be  done.  Poetry,  therefore,  is  more  philofo- 
phical  and  inftruftive  than  hiftory.  For  poetry  fpeaks  rather  of  general 
things,  and  hiftory  of  particular.  By  general  things,  I  mean  what  any 
perfon  of  fuch  a  character  would  probably  and  naturally  fay  or  do  in  fuch 
a  fituation ;  and  this  is  what  poetry  aims  at  even  [a]  in  giving  names  to 
the  characters.  By  particular  things  I  mean  what  any  individual,  as 
Alcibiades  for  inftance,  either  adled  or  fuffered  in  reality. 

And  this  Is  now  confpicuous  in  comedy,  where  the  poets  (not  like  the 
writers  of  fatirical  pieces,  who  introduce  perfonal  characters, )  firfh  form 
their  fable,  and  then  add  any  cafual  names ;  whereas  in  tragedy  the  names 
of  perfons  who  have  really  exifted  are  retained.     And  this  is  done  be- 

[a]  For  inftance,  calling  a  faithful  fervant  Parmeno,  and  a  foldier  Thrafo,  orPoliton.  This 
is  ^fnerally  the  cafe  in  the  modern  drama,  with  the  fame  exception  as  to  tragedy. 

E  caufe 


26  THE    POETIC  Chap.  ix. 

caufe  we  give  credit  to  things  which  we  know  to  be  poffible ;  now, 
events  which  have  never  happened  we  can  hardly  believe  to  be  poffible, 
but  what  has  adlually  happened  is  evidently  poffible,  for  had  it  been  im- 
poffible  it  could  not  have  happened  [?.].  Neverthelefs,  in  fome  tragedies, 
there  are  only  a  few  known  names,  and  the  reft  are  fiditious,  and  in- 
others  there  are  none,  as  in  the  Anthos  of  Agatho,  which  does  not  fail 
to  afford  pleafure,  though  the  incidents  and  charadlers  are  equally  feigned. 
It  need  not,  therefore,  be  an  invariable  rule  to  adhere  to  the  received 
fables  on  which  tragedies  are  generally  founded ;  indeed,  it  would  be 
ridiculous  to  endeavour  fcrupuloufly  to  do  it,  fince  thofe  fables  that  are 
known,  are  known  only  to  a  few,  and  yet  give  equal  delight  to  all. 

From  thefe  things,  it  is  clear  that  the  charafter  of  poet  [c]  is  rather 
derived  from  the  compofition  of  the  fable,  than  the  verfe,  becaufe  imita- 
tion conftitutes  the  poet,  and  this  [d]  is  the  imitation  of  an  aftion. 
Even  if  the  poem  is  founded  on  real  fadls  the  author  may  yet  be  a  poet, 
fince  there  is  no  reafon  why  many  events  that  have  really  happened  may 
not  be  capable  of  that  general  probability  and  poffibility,  from  the  proper 
arrangement  of  which  he  may  juftly  be  efleemed  a  poet. 


[b]  This  is  fo  obvious  a  truth  that  I  think  the  critic  might  have  trufted  to  the  (agacity  of 
his  readers  for  the  difcovery  of  it. 

[c]  The  Englifh  reader  muft  be  informed,  that  poet,  in  the  original,  fignifies  maker  j 
which  word  is  ufed  for  poet  in  a  book  entitled,  The  Art  of  Englifh  Poefie,  printed  in  1589, 
and  quoted  by  Warton  in  his  Obfervations  on  Spenfer,  vol.  i.  p.  52. 

[d]  The  compofition  of  the  fable. 

Of 


Chap.  IX.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  27 

Of  fimple  fcibles  and  adlions,  the  epilbdic  are  the  worft,  I  call  a  fable 
cpifodic,  when  the  cpifodes  follow  each  other  without  probability  or 
connexion.  Thefe  are  made  by  bad  poets  from  their  own  want  of 
genius,  and  by  good  ones  to  pleafe  the  performers  -,  for  confidering  only 
the  reprefentation,  and  extending  the  adlion  beyond  its  proper  length, 
they  are  often  forced  to  violate  the  connexion  of  the  fable. 

As  the  imitation  fliould  not  only  be  of  a  perfed  adlion,  but  likewife  of 
one  calculated  to  produce  pity  and  fear  -,  and  as  thofe  objedts  will  be 
principally  attained  if  the  events  happen  contrary  to  exped:ation,  and  yet 
are  confequences  of  each  other  :  (for  by  that  means  furprize  will  be 
more  ftrongly  excited  than  if  they  feemed  to  happen  by  accident,  be- 
caufe,  even  among  accidental  things,  thofe  are  moll:  furprizing  that  have 
the  appearance  of  defign,  as  the  inflance  of  the  ftatue  of  Mityus  in  Argos 
falling  down,  and  killing  his  murderer  while  he  was  looking  at  it,  for 
fuch  events  do  not  feem  merely  cafual,)  fables  of  this  kind  [e]  mult  be 
the  moft  beautiful. 

[e]  Where  the  events  arife  from  each  other  contrary  to  expectation,  ure  fliould  be  omit- 
ted, as  otherwife  there  will  be  nothing  to  anfwer  to  tnh  SI  at  the  beginning  of  this  paragraph, 
which  is  all  one  fentence. 


E  2  CHAP. 


28  THE    POETIC  Chap.  x. 


C  H  A  P.      X. 

OF     THE    DIFFERENT     SORTS    OF    FABLE. 

T  ABLES  are  either  fimple  or  complicated,  for  Co  are  thofe  adlions  of 
which  fables  are  an  imitation.  I  call  that  a  fimple  adlion,  which,  being 
(as  has  been  defined,)  conneded  [a]  and  uniform,  has  the  tranfition  of 
fortune  without  peripetia,  [b]  or  difcovery  :  and  that  a  complicated 
adlion,  where  the  tranfition  is  effedled  by  the  means  of  peripetia,  or 
difcovery,  or  both.  Thefe  Ihould  arife  out  of  the  fable  itfelf,  and  appear 
the  neceifary  or  probable  confequence  of  what  has  happened  before  :  for 
there  is  a  wide  difference  between  one  event  happening  in  confequence 
of  another,  or  only  following  it. 

[a]  2^'^fx'l?•     Continuous.     Having  the  events  depending  on  each  other.     This  part  of 
the  definition  does  not  relate  to  the  fimple  fable  only,  but  is  equally  applicable  to  the  complicated. 

[b]  nsfii7r£T««.     An  unexpefted  revolution  of  fortune.     I  have  retained  the  word  in  the. 
tranflation,  as  it  is  naturalized  in  the  language  of  dramatic  criticifm> 


C  H  A  P. 


Chap.xu  of    ARISTOTLE.  29- 

CHAP.  XI.  ; 

OF    THE    PERIPETIA,    DISCOVERY,    AND     PATHOS. 

X  HE  peripetia,  as  has  already  been  defined,  is  an  unexpedled  reverfa 
of  fortune  in  the  perfons  adling,  neceffarily  or  probably  ariling  from  the 
incidents.  As  in  the  Qildipus,  a  perfon  coming  with  the  idea  of  confol- 
ing  that  prince,  and  removing  his  apprehenfions  about  his  mother  by 
difcovering  who  he  really  is,  produces  the  contrary  effedl.  And  in  the 
tragedy  of  Lynceus,  he  being  led  out  to  die,  and  Danaiis  following  to  kill 
him,  it  happens,  from  the  courfe  of  the  aftion,  that  Danaiis  is  flain,  and: 
Lynceus  preferved. 

The  difcovery,  as  the  name  implies,  is  a  tranfition  from  ignorance  to 
knowledge,  producing  either  friendfliip,  or  hatred,  between  the  charac- 
ters as  they  are  defigned  for  happinefs,  or  diflrefs.  The  difcovery  is 
moft  beautiful  when  accompanied  by  the  peripetia,  as  in  the  tragedy  of 
CEdipus  ;  though  there  are  other  forts  of  difcovery,  for  it  may  arife  from 
accidental,  or  inanimate  things,  or  a  perfon  may  be  known  by  perform- 
ing or  omitting  fome  particular  ad ;  but  that  I  firfl  mentioned  has  moft 
connexion  \vith  the  fable  and  the  aftion  ;  and  fuch  a  difcovery  and  peri- 
petia will  produce  that  pity  and  terror,  of  which  tragedy  is  defined  to  be 
an  imitation,  as  from  this  the  happinefs  or  mifery  of  the  charaders  will 
arife. 

As  the  difcovery  is  a  difcovery  of  certain  perfons,  it  will  fometimes 
happen  that  one  perfon  only  need  be  difcovered  to  the  other,  the  other 

being 


30  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xi. 

being  already  fufficlently  known  ;  and  fometimes  both  mufl  be  difcovered. 
As  in  the  tragedy  of  Iphigenia,  where  fhe  is  known  to  Oreftes  by  fend- 
ing a  letter,  but  another  method  is  neceflary  to  difcover  him  to  Iphigenia. 

To  thefe  two  parts  of  tragedy,  peripetia,  and  difcovery,  muft  be  added 
a  third,  pathos  [a].  The  pathos  is  that  part  of  the  adion  which  is 
either  fatal  or  painful  j  fuch  as  deaths  exhibited  on  the  ftage,  or  tortures, 
or  wounds,  or  other  things  of  that  nature. 

[a]  The  word  wafiof  here  fignifies  real  corporal  fufFering,  and  not  the  idea  we  ufually  annex 
to  pathos :  and  in  this  fejife  I  conceive  Ariflotle  calls  the  Iliad  pathetic,  chap.  xxiv. 


CHAP. 


CiiAP.  XII.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  31 

CHAP.      XII. 

OF     TRAGEDY,    DIVIDED     INTO    ITS    CONSTITUENT     PARTS\ 

JtJ^  AVING  mentioned  the  parts  of  tragedy  that  ought  to  be  ufed  aS 
general  forms,  we  now  come  to  the  conflituent  parts  into  which  it  is 
particularly  divided ;  which  are  the  prologue,  the  epifodes,  or  ads,  the 
exode,  and  the  chorus  ;  and  this  lall  is  again  divided  into  the  parode,  and 
ftafimon,  which  are  common  to  all  tragedies,  and  the  commi,  or  the 
lamentations  of  the  chorus  with  thofe  on  the  ftage,  which  are  peculiar 
only  to  fome. 

The  prologue  is  that  entire  part  of  the  tragedy  which  precedes  the 
parode  or  firfl  entrance  of  the  chorus. 

The  epifode  [a],  or  adl,  comprehends  thofe  entire  parts  of  the  tragedy 
that  are  between  all  the  odes  of  the  chorus. 

The  exode  is  all  that  part  of  the  tragedy  which  fucceeds  the  laft  ode 
of  the  chorus. 

Of  the  choric  part,  the  parode  is  the  firft  fpeech  of  the  full  chorus, 
the  ftafimon  is  the  fong  of  the  chorus  without  anapsfts  or  trochees,  and 
the  commus  is  the  joint  lamentation  of  the  chorus  and  thofe  on  the  ftage. 

Thefe  are  the  conftituent  parts  into  which  tragedy  is  particularly 
divided.  Thofe  which  it  ought  to  ufe  as  general  forms,  have  been  men- 
tioned before. 

[a]  See  chapter  iv.  note  [hj. 

CHAP, 


32  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xiii. 


CHAP.      XIII. 

OF  WHAT  OUGHT  TO  BE  ATTEMPTED  IN  THE  ARRANGEMENT 
OF  THE  FABLE.  AND  HOW  THE  PROPER  END  OF  TRAGEDY 
IS     TO    BE     ATTAINED. 

/\.FTER  what  has  been  already  faid,  we  now  regularly  proceed  to  fhew 
what  ought  to  be  attempted,  and  what  avoided  in  conftruding  the  fable, 
and  from  whence  the  proper  end  of  tragedy  is  derived. 

As  the  compofition  of  the  moft  perfect  tragedies  fliould  not  be  fimple, 
but  complicated,  and  fhould  imitate  an  adtion  capable  of  exciting  pity 
and  terror,  (that  being  the  peculiar  charad:er  of  this  kind  [a]  of  imita- 
tion,) it  is  evident  that  thofe  who  are  reprefented  as  falling  from  happi- 
nefs  to  mifery,  fliould  not  be  perfons  of  extraordinary  virtue,  as  that 
would  excite  difguft,  rather  than  pity  or  terror.  Neither  fliould  vicious 
charafters  be  fhewn  as  rifing  from  mifery  to  happinefs,  for  that  would  be 
diredtly  oppolite  to  the  defign  of  tragedy,  not  pofleffing  any  one  of  its 
requifites,  being  neither  agreeable  to  our  feelings,  nor  exciting  either 
pity  or  terror.  Neither  fliould  a  very  bad  man  be  reprefented  as  filling 
from  happinefs  to  mifery ;  for  though  fuch  an  arrangement  might  be 
agreeable  to  our  feelings,  it  would  excite  neither  pity  nor  terror ;  for  one 
of  thefe  pafllons  is  excited  by  the  misfortunes  of  an  innocent  [b]  perfon, 

[a]    The    complicated    traged}":,     poiTefling    difcovery,     and   peripetia.      So  chajitcr  xi. 

51  yep  T(jiau7>)  uyiupKn;  y.y.t  zrspmsrincy  -i  e'Aso^  ij^et  n  (piSov. 

[n]  Intentionally  innocent  in  regard  to  the  crime  ox  misfortune  for  which  he  fufFers,  as  was 

tl-e  cafe  with  Qiidipus. 

the 


Chap.  XIII-  OF    ARISTOTLE.  33 

the  other  by  the  misfortunes  of  a  perfon  in  the  fame  fituation  with  our- 
felves,  pity,  on  account  of  the  diftrefs  being  undeferved,  and  terror 
from  the  equality ;  fuch  an  event  would,  therefore,  be  neither  diflrefsful 
nor  alarrmno;.  The  charafter  that  remains,  is  the  medium  between 
thefe:  a  man  neither  eminently  confpicupus  for  virtue  and  juftice,  nor 
reduced  to  mifery  by  wickednefs  and  villainy  ;  but  rather  one  in  high 
reputation  and  profperity,  fuffering  through  fome  human  frailty,  like 
CEdipus  and  Thyefles,  and  other  illuflrious  men  of  fuch  families. 

A  fable  properly  conftrudled  Hiould  rather  be  fimple  [c]  than  double, 
(though  the  latter  is  preferred  by  fome,)  and  the  change  fliould  not  be 
from  mifery  to  happinefs,  but,  on  the  contrary,  from  happinefs  to 
mifery,  not  on  account  of  wickednefs,  but  from  fome  great  frailty :  and 
it  fhould  happen  to  fome  fuch  perfon  as  has  been  mentioned,  or  to  a 
higher  charadler,  rather  than  an  inferior.  And  this  is  confirmed  by  expe- 
rience ;  for  formerly  the  poets  took  any  cafual  fables  without  confidera- 
tion  [d],  but  now  the  fubjecfls  of  the  beft  tragedies  are  taken  from  a 
few  families,  as  thofe  of  Alcmason,  of  CEdipus,  of  Meleager,  of 
Thyeftes,  of  Telephus,  and  of  fuch  others  as  have  either  adled  or  fuf- 
fered  any  thing  terrible. 

[c]  At  firft  fight,  Ariftotle  feems  to  contradidt  his  preceding  aflertion }  fee  note  [a]  on  this 
chapter  :  but  here  xttKoo?  is  oppofed  to  SittXoo;,  and  there  to  TrtirXe'yi/.ivoi;. 

[d]  Heinfius  propofes  to  change  the  word  aVu/ji'O/xsi/,  which  ftands  in  the  text,  for 
<s7r£pfuO/Aay.  But  the  common  reading  is  defended  by  Winftanley,  the  word  «VctpiSjaE« 
fometimes  conveying  the  idea  of  raflinefs  or  inconfideration ;  as  in  Ifocrates,  otjh/  di/xyi- 


This 


34  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xrrr. 

This  being  the  moft  perfe(ft  form  of  tragedy,  according  to  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  art,  thofe  who  blame  Euripides  becaufe  he  purfues  this 
method,  and  makes  his  tragedies  end  with  diftrefs,  are  themfclves  wrong, 
that  fyftem  being,  as  we  have  already  obferved,  right ;  the  greateft 
proof  of  which  is,  that  fuch  dramas  appear  moft  tragical  on  the  ftage, 
and  in  the  dramatic  contefts,  if  they  are  well  managed ;  and  Euripides, 
if  he  does  not  conduft  his  fable  fo  well  in  other  circumftances,  is 
allowed  to  be  the  moft  tragical  of  our  poets. 

The  fecond  form,  (which  is  efteemed  the  firft  by  fome,)  is  that  which 
has  a  double  compofition,  like  the  Odyfley,  having  a  different  cataf- 
trophe  for  the  virtuous  and  vicious.  This  form  appears  to  be  the  firft 
from  the  weaknefs  of  the  fpedlators,  which  the  poets  are  induced  to 
follow,  and  compofe  their  plays  to  gratify  the  feelings  of  the  audience. 
But  the  fatisfadion  attained  by  thefe  means,  is  not  that  which  fhould 
properly  be  expedled  from  tragedy,  but  rather  what  belongs  to  comedy, 
for  there,  though  the  charadlers  according  to  the  fable,  are  as  implacable 
enemies  as  Oreftes  and  ^gifthus,  they  muft  go  out  reconciled  at  the 
end  of  the  play,  and  no  perfon  muft  be  killed  by  another. 


CHAP. 


Chap.  XIV.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  35 


CHAP.      XIV. 

HOW  PITV  AND   TERROR   ARE    TO   BE    EXCITED. 

X  ITY  and  terror  may  either  be  cr.ufed  by  the  reprefentation,  or  pro- 
duced by  the  combination  of  the  incidents  ;  but  the  laft  is  preferable, 
and  fliews  fuperior  fkill  in  the  poet.  For  the  fable  ought  to  be  fo  con- 
ftituted,  that  a  perfon  only  hearing  the  incidents  related,  fliould  both 
fhudder  and  be  afFefted  with  compafllon ;  which  any  perfon  mufl;  feel 
who  were  to  hear  the  ftory  of  CEdipus.  But  to  effecfl  this  by  means 
of  the  reprefentation  only,  is  very  unfkilful,  and  requires  the  afiiflance 
of  the  manager  of  the  theatre.  Thofe  who  produce  what  is  monflrous, 
inftead  of  what  is  terrible  by  the  reprefentation,  have  none  of  the  pro- 
perties of  tragedy  j  for  every  fort  of  entertainment  fliould  not  be  fought 
from  it,  but  only  that  which  is  peculiar  to  it.  Since  then  it  is  the 
bufmefs  of  the  tragic  poet  by  imitation  to  afford  that  pleafure  which 
may  arife  from  the  pafiions  of  pity  and  terror,  it  is  evident  this  ought 
to  be  eifetfbed  by  the  incidents  themfelves.  We  will  confider,  there- 
fore, what  circumflances  will  appear  dreadful,  and  what  lamentable. 

Adions  of  this  fort,  muft  either  happen  between  friends,  or  enemies, 
or  indifferent  perfons.  Now,  if  one  enemy  kills  another,  no  pity  is 
excited,  either  while  the  aftion  is  performed,  or  while  it  is  meditated, 
except  what  arifes  from  the  fuffering  of  the  penon.  It  is  the  fame 
between  thofe  who  are  indifferent  to  each  other.  But  diflreffes  that 
happen  between  thofe  who  are  dear  to  each  other  are  proper  obje<fts 
of  the  poet's  fearch ;  as  when  a  brother  kills,  or  intends   to  kill,  or 

F  2  otherwife 


36  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xiv. 

otherwife  injures  his  brother,  or  a  fon  his  flither  or  mother,  or  a 
mother  her  fon  ;  therefore,  it  not  being  allowable  effentially  [a]  to  alter 
ftories  that  have  been  generally  received,  but,  for  example  Clytemneftra 
muft  be  killed  by  Oreftes,  and  Eriphyle  by  Alcmaeon,  it  is  the  duty  of 
the  poet  to  find  out  fuch  traditional  flories,  and  employ  them  fkilfully. 

I  will  explain  more  clearly  what  I  mean  by  fkilfully.  Adlions  may 
either  be  reprefented  according  to  the  pradlice  of  the  earlier  poets,  as 
performed  by  perfons  knowingly  and  intentionally,  like  Medea  deftroying 
her  children  in  the  tragedy  of  Euripides  -,  or  fome  atrocious  deed  may 
be  done  by  a  perfon  not  knowing  what  he  does,  and  the  relation  of  the 
charadlers  may  be  difcovered  afterwards ;  as  in  the  CEdipus  of  Sopho- 
cles. There  indeed  the  deed  is  performed  previoufly  to  the  opening  of 
the  drama ;  but  it  may  happen  in  the  courfe  of  the  tragedy  itfelf,  as  in 
the  Alcmseon  of  Aftydamus,  and  the  charadler  of  Telegonus  in  the  Ulyffes 
Wounded.  To  thefe  a  third  method  may  be  added,  where  a  perfon. 
on  the  point  of  committing  fome  fliocking  adion  through  ignorance, 
makes  the  difcovery  before  he  does  it.  And  there  is  no  other  method 
except  thefe,  for  a  perfon  muft  either  a£l,  or  not  ad:,  and  muft  either 
know,  or  be  ignorant  of,  the  confequences  of  the  adion  ;  but  of  thefe 
forms,  a  perfon  going  to  ad,  knowing  the  confequences,  and  then  not 
ading,  is  fo  much  the  worft,  (being  difgufting  [b],  and  not  tragical  as 
no  one  fufFers,)  that  a  very  few  inftances  excepted,  as,  for  example, 
the  intention  of  Ilaemon  to  kill  Creon,  in  the  tragedy  of  Antigone,  it 
has  never  been  ufed  [cj.     Next  to  this  is  the  perpetration  of  the  deed.. 

[a]  Xvltv,  difTolve,  entirely  deftroy,  by  altering  the  principal  incident  on  which  the  whole 

intereft  depends.     See  the  commentary. 

[fi]  Miizpoi/.     From  the  deliberate  guilty  intention. 

[c]  The  fiift  of  the  three  admiflible  modes  according  to  their  enumeration  by  Ariftotle, 

tljough  the  loweft  in  point  of  excellence.     See  the  commentary. 

It 


Chap.  XIV.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  -^y 

It  is  ftill  better  when  the  deed  is  performed  ignorantly,  and  the  difcovery 
made  afterwards ;  for  there  will  be  no  wicked  intention,  and  the  difco- 
very will  be  very  affedling.  But  the  lalT:  method  has  the  moft  powerful 
efFedt  [d],  as  in  the  tragedy  of  Crefphontes,  Meroue,  being  on  the 
point  of  killing  her  fon,  difcovers  who  he  is,  and  faves  his  life ;  and,  in 
the  fame  manner,  in  the  tragedy  of  Iphigenia,  the  fifter  difcovers  her 
brother,  and,  in  the  tragedy  of  Helle,  the  fon  knows  his  mother  jufl 
as  he  is  going  to  dcUver  her  up. 

And  this  is  the  reafon,  as  we  obferved  before,  why  there  are  not  many 
families  that  furniili  proper  fubjeds  for  tragedy.  For  it  was  not  from 
art,  but  accident,  that  the  poets  learned  to  form  their  fables  on  fuch 
incidents,  and  they  were  obliged  to  have  recourfe  to  thofe  families  in 
which  misfortunes  of  that  nature  had  happened. 

And  this  is  fufficient  concerning  the  combination  of  the  incidents, 
and  the  neceffary  qualities  of  the  fable. 

[d]  xpocTifon,  moft  powerful,  capable  of  producing  the  ftrongeft  efFeft,  '  Cui  veluti  vires 
*  maximae  fuppetunt  ad  aliquid  efficiendum.'     Steph.  Thes. 

Though  Batteux  fays  in  his  remarks,  '  Nous  avons  dit  la  meilleure  des  quatres,  parce 
»  qu'Ariftotle  propofe  quatre,  quoiqu'il  femble  n'en  propofer  que  trois,'  yet  Ariftotle  adually 
mentions  the  four,  and  gives  examples  of  them  all,  though  he  fays  one  is  too  bad  to  be  ad- 
mitted. H  ydp  Trpw^ai  dixyx-n  -?  /«.«,  5C«»  tlSarxg,  n  f/.n  ilSoroii;,  Here  the  four  forms 
are  exprefely  mentioned :  Trf  agai  i'Mtx?,  to  a£l  knowingly,  like  Medea  in  killing  her  chil- 
dren; /*«  Trpa^ai  ilStra;,  knowing  what  one  is  about  to  do,  not  to  aift,  like  Haemon,  in 
his  attempt  to  kill  his  father  Creon;  irpa^ai,  p.ii  iISotx^,  to  adt  ignorantly,  as  in  the  CEdipus 
of  Sophocles  ;  [^.fi  Trpa^ai,  fji-ri  i\S<i-ro'.<;,  not  to  a£l,  though  the  confequence  of  the  action  is 
unknown;  that  is,  to  be  about  to  aft  through  ignorance  of  the  relation  of  the  perfon  who  is 
the  objeft  of  the  adion,  and  to  make  the  difcovery  in  time,  as  in  the  cafe  of  Merope,  of 
Iphigenia,  and  of  Helle. 

CHAP. 


38  THE    POETIC  Chap.  x\r. 


CHAP.      XV. 

OF     THE    MANNERS. 

J.  N  forming  the  manners,  four  things  are  to  be  attended  to. 

The  firft,  and  moft  effential  is,  that  they  fhould  be  good.  We  have 
obferved  before,  that  a  poem  will  poffefs  manners,  when  any  peculiar 
propenfity  is  difcovered,  either  by  the  dialogue,  or  the  adlion.  And  if 
that  propenfity  is  bad,  the  manners  will  be  bad,  if  good,  they  will  be 
good,  and  that  in  every  condition  of  life.  A  woman  or  even  a  flavc 
may  be  drawn  with  this  excellence  of  charadler,  though  it  is  probable 
tliat  a  woman  fliould  be  worfe  than  a  man,  and  that  a  flave  fhould  be 
abfolutcly  bad. 

The  next  requifite  is  being  charadleriftic ;  for  there  is  a  charader  of 
courage  and  fiercenefs  adapted  to  men  which  would  be  very  improper  ia 
a  woman. 

The  third  effential  is  likenefs  [a].  There  is  a  diflindlion  between 
this,  and  what  we  have  already  mentioned  of  their  being  good,  and 
charadleriflic. 

[a]  The  diftinStion  between  to  o^oioc,  and  ro  dlp[/.oTloi>y  lies  in  the  one  relating  to  man- 
ners in  general,  and  the  other  to  the  manners  of  particular  perfons,  as  Achilles,  Ulyfles,  &c. 
which  fhould  be  drawn  according  to  the  received  opinion.  So  Horace:  '  Aut  iamam  fequere' 
^To  o[/,<iiov),  '  aut  convenientia  finge'  {ro  a.pi/.aTlov'). 

I  The 


Chap.  XV.  O  F    A  R  I  S  T  O  T  L  E.  39 

The  fourth  is  coniiftency.  For,  even  if  an  inconfiftent  perfon  is  the 
objedt  of  imitation,  the  charafter  fo  imitated  fiiould  be  made  confiftcntljr 
inconfiflent. 

We  have  an  example  of  bad  manners,  unnecefTarily  introduced,  in 
the  charadler  of  Menelaus,  in  the  tragedy  of  Oreftes ;  of  manners  im- 
proper, and  uncharafteriftic,  in  the  lamentation  of  UlyfTes,  in  the  tra- 
gedy of  Scylla,  and  in  the  fpeech  of  Menalippe  [b]  ;  and  of  inconfiftent 
manners,  in  the  tragedy  of  Iphigenia  in  Aulis,  where  there  is  no  refem- 
blance  between  her  fupplication,  and  her  fubfequent  behaviour. 

Neceflity  and  probability  fliould  be  as  much  confidered  in  the  manners, 
as  in  the  adion.  And  it  is  as  material  to  enquire  whether  it  is  neceifary 
or  probable  for  fuch  a  charadler  to  fay  or  do  fuch  things,  as  whether  it 
is  neceffary  or  probable  for  fuch  an  event  to  follow  another. 

It  [c]  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  unravelling  of  the  plot  fhould 
alfo  arife  from  the  fable  itfelf,  and  not  from  a  machine,  as  in  the  tragedy 
of  Medea,  and  what  relates  to  the  return  of  the  Greeks  in  the  Iliad  [d]. 
Machinery  is  moft  properly  employed  in  thofe  circumrtances  that  are 

[b]  See  note  v,  chap.  xxv.  of  the  commentary. 

[c]  I  do  not  fee  the  connexion  of  this  paragraph  with  the  reft  of  the  chapter.  It  feems 
rather  to  belong  to  chapter  xviii. 

[d]  Caftelvetro  fuppofes  that  this  alludes  to  the  Iliad,  1.  ii.  where  Minerva,  by  the  advice 
of  Juno,  perfuades  Ulyffes  to  prevent  the  return  of  the  Greeks,  to  which  they  were  induced 
by  the  fpeech  of  Agamemnon,  and  with  moft  probability.  See  Mr.  Twining's  note.  Some 
commentators  have  imagined  it  to  relate  to  the  lefler  Iliad,  or  a  tragedy  formed  from  it.  See 
the  end  of  chapter  xxiii. 

out 


40  THE     POETIC  Chap,  xv, 

out  of  the  drama  ;  either  for  the  purpofe  of  dilcovering  fuch  things  as 
have  happened  before,  which  it  is  impoflible  for  human  knowledge  to 
find  out,  or  future  events,  which  muft  require  prophecy,  and  fuper- 
natural  intelhgence ;  for  the  gods  are  fuppofed  to  know  every  thing.  It 
is  wrong  to  admit  any  circumftance  that  is  contrary  to  reafon  among 
the  incidents  ;  but  if  it  is  unavoidable,  it  ought  to  be  out  of  the  tragedy, 
as  in  the  QZdipus  of  Sophocles. 

As  tragedy  is  an  imitation  of  perfons  of  fuperior  excellence  to  thofe  of 
the  prefcnt  time,  the  example  of  good  portrait  painters  fliould  be  followed, 
who  make  their  pi(5lures  more  beautiful  than  the  life,  and  yet  preferve  the 
likenefs.  A  poet,  therefore,  who  imitates  paffionate  or  effeminate  [e] 
perfons,  or  other  characters   of  that  kind,    fliould  reprefent  them  as 

[e]  'PaGujU,8?-.  Dacier  propofes  to  render  this  word  wrathful,  or  indignant.  But  I  fliould 
hardly  think  this  juftifiable  on  the  fole  authority  of  Hefychius,  who,  after  giving  the  ufual 
interpretation,  adds,  aAAoi,  etti  tw  jUjyaAs  9uji/.a  nsyjviiirai  rn  At'^fi.  '  Others  ufe  the 
'  word  to  exprefs  greatnefs  of  fpirit.'  Terrafon  fur  I'lliad,  fays,  '  Ces  paroles  ont  fort 
'  tourmentes  les  commentateurs,  mais  pour  un  paflage  d'Ariftotle  je  le  trouve  affez  clair,  et 
'  je  le  traduis  ainfi.  11  faut  bien  qu'un  poete  qui  veut  reprefenter  un  homme  colere,  s'en 
'  -tienne  a  I'idee  de  la  feverite,  et  que  voulant  peindre  un  homme  mou  il  lui  donne  les  traits 
<  de  la  douceur,  et  ainfi  des  autres  charaderes  ;  c'eft  de  cette  maniere  qu'  Homere  a  rendu 
^  Achille  bon.  J'oppofe  c-y.Xr]poTriTo;  feverite,  a  opyiAou;  emportes,  et  iTrmKiix^  douceur, 
'  a  /J^flu^Mou?,  qui  fignifie  mous,  quoique  opyiXovg  foit  mit  avant  fx^C[j.iii  dans  le  premier 
'  membre  de  la  phrafc,  et  £7r»£i>i£iV,?  avant  <!")«A»ipoT5jTo?  dans  le  fecond ;  c'eft  un  renverfe- 
'  ment  d'ordre  dont  on  voit  bien  des  exemples.'  I  have  no  doubt  of  this  being  the  right 
interpretation,  and  have  accordingly  adopted  it.  As  to  the  alteration  of  reading  xyxicv 
inftead  of  Ayafiwi/,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  commentary.  The  MS.  in  the  library  at 
Wolfenbuttel,  the  edition  of  Aldus,  and  both  thofe  of  Bafil,  read  clyi^ov. 

examples 


Chap.  XV.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  41 

examples  either  of  mildnefs  or  feverity.     So  Achilles  is  drawn  as  a  good 
charader  even  by  Homer  [f]. 

Thefe  rules  ought  to  be  obferved,  and  not  only  thefe,  but  fuch  alfo 
as  regard  thofe  objedts  of  the  other  fenfes,  that  neceffarlly  accompany 
dramatic  poetry ;  for  errors  will  often  happen  with  refpedl  to  them. 
But  thefe  are  fufficiently  fpoken  of  in  treatifes  already  publiflied. 

[f]  See  the  commentary  on  this  place.. 


CHAP. 


42  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xvi. 


CHAP.      XVI. 

OF   THE   DIFFERENT  SPECIES  OF   DISCOVERy, 

X  HE  difcover)'  having  been  already  defined  [a],  we  will  now  diftin- 
guifh  its  different  forms. 

The  firfl,  which  is  the  leaft  artful,  and  to  which  the  generality  of 
poets  in  their  deficiency  of  genius  refort,  is  that  by  tokens.  Of  thefe, 
fome  are  natural,  like  the  fpear  which  was  borne  by  the  Gegenes  [bj, 
and  the  ftars  [c]  on  the  body  of  Thyeftes,  in  the  tragedy  written  by 
Carcinus ;  and  others  are  adventitious,  either  on  the  body  as  fears,  or 
independent  of  it  as  jewels,  or  like  the  fmall  boat  in  the  tragedy  of 
Tyro.  But  thefe  may  be  ufed  with  greater  or  lefs  propriety.  As,  for 
example,  Ulyfles  is  difcovered  by  means  of  a  fear;  but  in  a  different 
manner  to  Euryclea  [d]  and  the  fwine-herds  :  now,  where  tokens  are 
fhewn  purpofely  to  gain  credit,  as  in  the  lafl  inflance,  they  are  very  in- 
artificial ;  but  when  the  difcovery  is  accidental,  like  that  made  to  Eury- 
clea, they  have  more  merit. 

[a]  Chapter  xi. 

[b]  Defcendants  of  the  earth.  The  name  of  a  Theban  family,  fuppofcd  to  be  the  offspring 
of  the  ferpent's  teeth  fown  by  Cadmus. 

[c]  For  ocftpag,  Robertellus  propofes  to  read  ofici,  bones,  as  alluding  to  the  ivory  fhoulder 
of  Pelops,  which  Tzetzes  fays  became  a  diftinguifliing  mark  to  the  Pelopidae,  as  the  fpear 
was  to  the  Sparti,  i.  e.  the  defcendants  of  the  fown  teeth. 

[dJ  The  two  difcoveries  mentioned,  are  in  the  OdyfTey,  books  xix.  and  xxi. 

The 


Chap.  XVI.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  43 

The  fecond  are  thofe  which  are  invented  by  the  poet,  and  therefore  [e] 
inartificial.  Thus  in  the  mutual  difcovery  of  Oreftes  and  his  fifter  in 
the  tragedy  of  Iphigenia ;  fhe  is  difcovered  by  means  of  a  letter,  but 
he  is  known  to  [f]  her,  not  from  any  circumftance  arifing  from  the 
fable,  but  from  faying  what  the  poet  chofe  to  put  in  his  mouth  ;  there- 
fore this  borders  on  the  error  blamed  in  the  firfl  mentioned  fpecies,  fmce 
fome[G]  of  the  things  from  which  the  proofs  are  drawn  might  have 
been  introduced  themfelves  as  vifible  tokens.  The  fame  objeftion  may 
be  made  to  the  difcovery  by  the  voice  of  the  fhuttle  [h],  in  the  Tereus 
of  Sophocles. 

[e]  The  ax  before  a,rc^\/oi  Is  omitted  in  moft  of  the  mss.  and  oldeft  editions. 

[f]  I  follow  Vittorio  in  omitting  <?i«  (rrf^ttuv,  txZtoc  h.  For  the  embroidery  and  the 
(pear  introduced  by  Euripides  do  not  occafion  the  difcovery,  but  are  only  mentioned  by  Oreftes, 
to  gain  credit  for  what  he  had  aflerted. 

[g]  I  fuppofe  the  embroidery  and  the  fpear.  See  the  commentary.  For  this  fenfe  of  the 
paflage,  which  I  believe  right,  I  acknowledge  my  obligation  to  Mr.  Twining. 

[h]  Kffixi'J'oj  9«nj.  Scaliger  conceived  this  to  mean  the  imitation  of  the  voice  of  a 
fwallow,  by  means  of  a  (buttle.  Goulfton  renders  it,  "  Radii  textorii  vox  in  tela  deplita." 
It  is  impoflible  to  determine  whether  the  transformation  of  Progne  into  a  fwallow,  or  Philo- 
mela into  a  nightingale,  is  here  hinted  at  as  exprefled  by  the  voice  of  the  (buttle.  If  we 
have  in  one  epigrammatift, 

another  mentions 

And  Virgil's  epithet,  ^n.  vii.  v.  275,  applies  equally  to  both: 
'  Arguto  tenues  percurrens  pe£tine  telas.' 
Kf/ix^f,  according  to  Hefychius,  is  itfelf  the  name  of  a  bird, 

G  2  The 


44  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xvi. 

The  tlurd  form  is  by  recoUecTtion,  either  when  the  fight  of  fome 
©bjed:  caufes  the  difcovery,  as  in  the  Cyprii  of  DiCEeogenes,  where  a  perfon 
burfts  into  tears,  on  feeing  a  pi(fture  ;  or  as  in  the  fable  of  Alcinous, 
Ulyfles  hearing  the  mufician,  and  remembering  the  ftory,  weeps,  and 
is  thence  difcovered. 

The  fourth  is  by  reafoning.  As,  in  the  Coephori,  Eledtra  reafons 
thus  [i]  :  '  A  perfon  refembling  me  is  arrived,  but  no  one  refembles 
'  me  except  Orefles,  therefore  Oreftes  is  arrived.'  And  in  the  tragedy 
of  Iphigenia,  written  by  Polyides  the  fophilt,  it  is  natural  for  Oreftes 
to  reafon  thus :  *  My  fifter  was  facrificed,  and  I  am  going  to  be  lacri- 
*  ficed  likewife.'  Or  as  in  the  Tydeus  of  Theodeftus,  where  it  is 
faid  [k1,  *  A  perfon  coming  to  fee  his  fon,  is  deflroyed  himfelf.'  Or 
as  in  the  PhinidiE,  where,  feeing  the  place  to  which  they  are  conduifted,  and 
reafoning  on  the  refponfe  of  the  oracle,  they  conclude  they  are  doomed 
to  pcrjfli  there,  as  it  is  the  place  where  they  were  expofed. 

There  is  alfo  a  compound  fpecies  of  difcovery  arifing  from  a  falfe  reafon- 
ing of  the  fpe(51:ators.     As  [l]  in  the  Ulyfles  Pfeudangelus,  where  he  fays 

he 


[i]  In  the  Coephori  of  ^fchylus,  Eleflra  finds  fome  hair  laid  on  the  tomb  of  Agamem- 
non, and,  from  its  refemblance  to  her  own,  concludes  it  muft  belong  to  Oreftes. 

[k]  Polinices,  fon  to  QEdipus,  not  chufmg  to  tell  his  name  to  Adraftus,  fays  only  he  is 
grandfon  to  a  king  who  was  killed  as  he  was  going  to  confult  the  oracle  about  the  fate  of 
his  fon ;  from  which  Adraftus  concluded  he  was  grandfon  to  Laius. 

[l]  This  paflage  fecms  totally  inexplicable,  and  is  therefore,  I  fhould  prcfume,  much 
corrupted.  The  following  is  the  remark  of  Batteux :  '  UlyfTes  pretends  to  be  one  of 
•'  his  companions;  and  in  that  character  aflerts  that  Ulyfles  is  dead,  and  that  he  had 
•'  buried  him.     And,    as  his  perfon  is  unknown,   to   gain   credit,   he   fays,   that   if   they 

^  will 


Chap.  XVI.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  45 

he  fliiill  know  the  bow  which  he  has  never  feen,  and  the  fpedator  [m], 
reafoning  falfcly,  fuppofes  he  is  difcovered  by  thofe  means. 

But  of  all  modes  of  difcovery  that  is  the  beft  which  is  derived  from 
the  incidents  themfelves,  the  furprize  arifing  from  probable  means ;  as 
in  the  Gidipus  of  Sophocles,  and  the  tragedy  of  Iphigenia,  where  it 
is  probable  fhe  fliould  be  defirous  of  fending  a  letter.  Thefe  alone  de- 
pend on  themfelves,  without  the  aid  of  fictitious  tokens  and  jewels. 
And  next  to  thefe,  are  thofe  eifefted  by  reafoning. 

'  w31  fliew  him  the  bow  of  UlyiTes,  mixed   with  other  bows,  he  fhall  know  it.     They 

*  do  fo,  he  knows  it,  and  for  fome  time  the  death  of  Ulyffes  is  credited  ;  though  this  was 
*■  too  light  a  foundation  for  believing  the  deceit,  as  an  impoftor  might  learn  tlie  particular 
^  fhape  of  Ulyfies's  bow  from  others.     To  this  falfe  reafoning,  or  paralogifm,  it  appears  a 

*  true  one  muft  have  followed.  As  in  the  Merope  of  M.  Voltaire,  Merope,  on  feeing  the 
'  helmet  of  her  fon  brought  in,  believed  the  perfon  who  brought  it  had  aflaflinnted  him ;  a 
'  falfe  reafoning  deceives  her,  and  almofl;  induces  her  to  kill  him  herfelf,  till  a  further  difco- 
'  very,  by  trne  reafoning,  faves  him.'  But  I  fear  this  ingenious  explanation  will  hardly  be 
found  conclufive.  Ariftotle  fays  the  difcovery  is  made  by  falfe  reafoning ;  but  here  the  decep- 
tion is  fuppofed  to  be  made  by  falfe  reafoning,  and  the  difcovery  by  true.  Ariftotle  fays  it  is 
made  by  a  falfe  reafoning  of  the  theatre,  (i.  e.  the  fpeflators)  Ix  ■irxpoi,Xoyif(/.'!i  t8  iiXTfHg 
and  not  of  the  perfons  of  the  drama,  as  is  fuppofed  in  this  explanation, 

£mj  To  ^£,  io  e«  ^ioirfov. 


CHAP. 


THE    POETIC  Chap.  XVII. 


CHAP.      XVII. 

FURTHER     OBSERVATIONS     ON      TRAGIC      POETRY,     AND     ITS 

COMPOSITION. 

J.  HE  poet,  as  well  when  he  compofes  the  incidents,  as  when  he  adds^ 
the  language,  ought,  as  much  as  poflible,  to  confider  every  thing  as 
pafling  before  his  eyes.  For  then,  feeing  all  the  circumftances  in  the 
cleareft  light,  and  as  if  he  were  himfelf  prefent  with  the  adors,  he  will 
cafily  find  out  what  is  proper  and  what  improper  in  the  performance. 
The  ncceffity  of  this  is  proved  by  the  difgrace  that  happened  to  Car- 
cinus.  The  abfurdity  of  Amphiaraus  going  out  of  the  temple  unper- 
ceived  from  not  feeing  the  dramatic  effedt,  did  not  flrike  him ;  but  the 
tragedy  was  condemned  on  the  ftage,  the  audience  being  offended  with 
the  impropriety. 

The  poet  alfo  fhould  enter  as  much  as  poffible  into  the  fpirit  of  the 
fubjedl  while  he  is  compofing ;  for  [a]  thofe  who  are  moved  by  paflions 
themfelves,  will  exprefs  thofe  paflions  moft  forcibly  from  their  own 
feelings.  Hence  he  who  is  really  agitated  ftorms,  and  he  who  is  really 
angry  upbraids  moft  truly  and  naturally  j  and  hence  the  fiftions  of  a 
good  poet  may  be  faid  to  refemble  thofe  of  a  madman  j  the  dudtility  [b] 

[a] Si  vis  me  flere,  dolendum  eft 

Primum  ipfi  tibi. HoR. 

[b]  Stephens,  in  his  Thefaurus,  fays  of  liirXxg-of,  '  Exponltur  ctiam,  "  qui  facile  formam 
«  induit?" 

«f 


Chap.  XVII.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  47 

of  his  fancy  having  the  fame  effed:  on  the  mind  of  one,  that  real 
ecftafy  [c]  has  on  that  of  the  other. 

The  poet  vi^hen  he  invents  his  fable,  fliould  firft  form  it  generally, 
and  afterwards  infer t  [d]  the  epifodes.  What  I  mean  by  forming  the 
fable  generally,  I  will  illuftrate  from  the  ftory  of  Iphigenia.     *  A  virgin 

*  on  the  point  of  being  facrificed,  fuddenly   difappears,  unperceived  by 

*  the  facrificers,  and  is  tranfported  to  another  country,  in  which  there 

*  is  a  law  to  offer  up  all  ftrangers  to  a  certain  goddefs,  to  whom  flie  is 

*  appointed  prieftefs.     Some  time   afterwards,  her  brother  accidentally 

*  arrives  there  :'  (the  reafon  of  his  coming  being  the  command  of  an 
oracle,  which  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  general  plan,  and  the  caufe 
of  which    is  foreign   to  the  fable.)     '  He  comes,  is  feized,   and  is  on 

*  the  point  of  being  facrificed,  when  he  is  difcovered  by  his  fifter ;' 
(either  in  the  manner  feigned  by  Euripides  [e],  or  as,  ^vith  probability, 

[c]  ExraTOioi'.  Frantic,  or  as  Mr.  Twining  excellently  though  paraphraftically  tranflates 
k,  '  tranfported  out  of  ourfelves.'  I  have  ventured  to  render  the  vi'ord  literally,  though 
the  figurative  ufe  of  it  has  now  almoft  fuperfeded  the  proper,  which  is  exaftly  equivalent 
with  the  common  phrafe  '  out  of  his  fenfes.'     Shakefpear  ufes  it  fa 

'  Now  fee  that  noble  and  moft  fovereign  reafon, 

'  Like  fweet  bells  jangled,  out  of  tune  and  harfh, 

'  That  unmatch'd  form,  and  feature  of  blown  youth 

'  Blafted  with  ecftafy,'  Hamlet. 

[d]  ETTturoSiov,  or  Eirsio-sJ'ia  7r«/)ii'£(p£ii/.  Winstanley. 

[e]  In  the  Iphigenia  in  Tauris  of  Euripides,  Oreftes  difcovers  himfelf  exprefsly  to  his 
fifter,  and  is  obliged  to  ufe  many  arguments  to  convince  her  he  is  her  brother.  This  is 
blamed  by  Ariftotle  in  the  preceding  chapter,  (fee  note  [f])  and  the  arrangement  of  Polyides 
approved. 

1  by 


48  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xvii. 

by  Polyides,  from  his  faying  it  was  not  only  doomed  for  his  iifter  to  be 
facrificed,  but  himfelf  alfo ;)  '  and  by  this  circumftance  he  is  pre- 
'  ferved.'  After  this,  the  names  are  fixed,  and  then  the  epifodic  parts 
are  added.  But  it  is  necelTary  that  the  epifodes  [f]  fliould  be  conneded 
with  the  fable,  like  the  madnefs  of  Oreftes,  which  occafions  his  being 
taken,  and  his  fafety,  by  ineans  of  the  luftration-. 

In  the  drama,  the  epifodes  fhould  be  concife,  but  the  epopee  derives 
its  length  from  them.     The  fimple  argument  of  the  OdyfTey  is  {hort  [g]. 

*  A  man,  abfent  from  home  for  many  years,  is  detained  by  Neptune, 
'  and  lofes  his  companions.     In  the  mean  time,  his  domeftic  affairs  are 

*  wafted  by  fuitors  to  his  wife,  and  there  is  a  confpiracy  againft  his  fon. 

*  At  length,  beiag  driven  on  his  own  coaft  by  a  tempeft,  and  difco- 

*  vering  himfelf  to  a  few  friends,  he  attacks  the  fuitors,  is  preferved 
'  himfelf,  and  deftroys  his  enemies.'  This  is  all  the  real  argument^ 
the  reft  is  epifode. 

[f]  Here  epifode  has  its  ufual  fen&. 

[c]  Mixpof,  not  i*a.yipci^. 


C  II  A  P. 


Chap.  XVIII,  OF    ARISTOTLE.  49 


CHAP.      XVIII. 

OF     THE    PLOT    AND    ITS    SOLUTION. OF     THE    OFFICE    OF     THE 

CHORUS. 

A  PLOT,  and  its  folutlon,  are  incident  to  every  tragedy.  The  plot 
confifts  of  all  that  is  out  of  the  adlion,  and  often  of  many  things  that  are 
in  it.  The  reft  is  the  folution.  I  call  every  thing  the  plot  from  the 
beginning  to  that  extreme  part  from  whence  the  change  [a]  of  fortune 
arifes ;  and  what  paffes  from  the  commencement  of  the  change  of  for- 
tune to  the  end  of  the  piece,  the  folution.  For  example,  in  the  tragedy 
of  Lynceus  written  by  Theodedlus,  the  plot  comprehends  the  preceding 
[b]  events,  and  the  taking  of  the  youth;  and  the  folution,  what  happens 
from  the  accufation  of  murder  to  the  end. 

There  are  four  fpecies  of  tragedy,  for  fuch  are  the  number  of  its 
parts  that  have  been  mentioned.  The  complicated,  which  depends  en- 
tirely on  peripetia  and  difcovery.     The  pathetic,   like  the  tragedies  of 

{a]  There  is  a  great  difpute  among  the  commentators,  whether  it  fliould  be  cU  t^rvyQaVf 
or  oirxjyQxv.  All  the  Mss.  as  well  as  printed  copies,  have  the  firfl,  but  the  principles  of 
Ariftotle  feem  to  require  the  laft,  or  both  :  and  the  Latin  tranflation  by  Valla,  printed  in  1498, 
prior  to  any  edition  of  the  original  Greek,  has  infortunium;  therefore  we  may  conclude  his 
MS.  read  «tuJ(^i'«.      See  Winftanley's  note. 

£b]  For  T^nrfxyiJ.iyuy  read  W|!07r£7r/)«yf*£v«.— ViTTORio,  Winstanley,  Events  prior 
10  the  opening  of  the  drama. 

H  Ajax 


50  THE    POETIC  Chap,  xviir. 

Ajax  and  Ixion.  The  ethic,  [c]  like  the  Phthio tides,  and  the  Peleus, 
And  fourthly,  the  fimple,  [d]  like  the  Phorcides,  the  Prometheus,  and 
thofe  tragedies  which  reprefeilt  what  pafTes  in  the  infernal  regions.  The 
poet  fhould  endeavour  to  excel  in  all  thefe  forms,  or  at  leaft  in  as  many  as 
poffible,  and  in  thofe  that  are  moft  efteemed ;  efpecially  at  prefent,  when 
people  are  fo  ready  to  cenfure  poets.  For  having  excellent  writers  in 
each  particular  fpecies,  they  now  expedt  eveiy  poet  to  excel  in  them  all. 

The  difference  or  fattienefs  of  one  tragedy  and  another,  muft  not  be 
eftimated  by  the  fable,  but  by  the  plot  and  folution.  There  are  many 
who  form  the  plot  well,  and  the  folution  ill,  though  they  ought  to  be 
equally  fkilful  in  both. 

It  [e]  is  neceffaiy  to  remember,  as  has  often  already  been  obferved, 
not  to  give  a  tragedy  the  form  of  an  epic  poem.  By  an  epic  form  I  mean 
one  containing  many  fables ;  as  if  the  whole  Iliad  were  to  be  comprized 
in  one  tragedy.  For  though  on  account  of  the  length  of  the  poem, 
every  pari  there  has  its  proper  proportion,  in  the  drama  the  effeft  would  be 
very  different  from  the  expedlation  of  the  poet  [f].     As  a  proof  of  this, 

[c]  I  am  obliged  to  ufe  this  word  from  the  want  of  a  proper  Englifli  one  to  cxprefs  the 
quality  of  a  compofition  where  manners  form  the  leading  charaiter.  MoRAt  has  quite  a 
different  fenfe.     See  note  i,  chap.  vii.  of  the  Commentary. 

[d]  From  the  recapitulation  of  thefe  forms  at  the  beginning  of  chapter  xxlv.  Winftanley 
propofes  to  fupply  the  word  oLirKoZv,  Batteux  inferts  oy-xAov  from  a  ms.  and  tranflates  it 
'  fimple  et  unie.' 

[e]  1  entirely  agree  with  Vittorio  in  the  rcftoration  of  thefe  words,  Xpr  Si,  Lffirs^  iipiuou. 
TJoKXctxt^ ,   jy.£f/.»)(rOai    k.  t.  A. 

[f]  See  Mr.  Twiiiing's  note  (153). 

I  thofe 


Chap.  xvin.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  51 

t. 

thofe  have  either  totally  failed  in  the  attempt,  or  b.ee.m  unfavourably  re- 
ceived, who  have  endeavoured  to  reprefent  the  whole  deflruftion  of  Troy, 
and  not  divided  it  into  parts  5  (I  [o]  do  not  mean  in  the  m^inner  of 
iEfchylus,  but  like  Euripides,  in  his  Niobe  and  Medea.)  And  in  thefe 
alone  has  Agatho  failed ;  but  in  the  tragedies  that  depend  on  the  peripetia 
and  thofe  that  have  a  fingle  adion  [h]  fuch  poets  often  attaiu  their  pur- 
pofe  which  is  to  produce  tragic  effecfl,  and  at  the  fame  time  gratify 
our  feelings,  by  means  which  appear  wonderful.  As,  when  a  wife, 
but  wicked  man,  like  Sifyphus,  is  deceived;  or,  when  a  brave,  butunjuft 
man  is  vanquiflied.  Neither  will  this  be  contrary  to  probability,  fmce,  as 
Agatho  obferves,  it  is  probable  for  many  things  to  happen  which  feem 
improbable. 

The  [i]  chorus  ought  to  be  confidered  as  one  of  the  characfters  of  the 
drama  and  be  deemed  a  part  of  the  whole,  and  contribute  to  the  aftion. 

[g]  Batteux  is  of  opinion  tiiat  both  Euripides  and  iEfchylus  are  propofed  here  as  models, 
and  that  xai  y,ri  is  only  a  repetition  of  the  negative,  introducing  the  fecond  example,  and  that 
Niobe  is  afcribed  to  JECdaylas,  and  Medea  to  Euripides.  But  I  think  the  conflruclion  of  the 
Greek  will  hardly  juftify  this  meaning.  I  imagine  Ariftotle,  having  propofed  chufmg  a  part 
only  of  a  ftory,  added,  left  his  readers  Ihould  be  influenced  by  a  bad  example,  that  this  fliould 
be  done  in  the  manner  of  Euripides  in  thofe  tragedies,  and  not  according  to  the  general  manner 
of  ^fchylus. 

[h]  Not  having  a  different  ending  for  the  good  and  bad.  I  have  confidered  'AsrAooj  here, 
as  in  chapter  xiii  to  be  as  oppofed  to  SiirXio^.     See  the  Commentary. 

[i]  '  Aftoris  partes  chorus,  officiumque  virile 
'  Defendat,  neu  quid  medios  intercinat  adlus 
'  Quod  non  propofito  conducat,  et  hsereat  apte."  HoR. 

H  2  Yet 


52  THE    POETIC  Chap,  xviii. 

Yet  [k]  not  in  the  manner  ufed  by  Euripides,  but  like  Sophocles.  In 
other  poets,  the  parts  that  are  [l]  fung  feem  to  have  no  more  relation  to 
the  fable,  than  to  another  tragedy,  and  from  this  came  the  cuftom,  which 
originated  with  Agatho,  of  introducing  fongs  which  had  no  connexion 
with  the  piece  [m].  But  where  is  the  difference  between  introducing 
thefe  unconnected  fongs,  and  fitting  a  fpeech,  or  whole  ad  of  one  tragedy, 
to  another  ? 


[k]  Here  ua-rre^  and  [Ari  ua-rt^  are  exaiHy'oppofed  to  each  other,  as  in  the  paflage  taken 
notice  of,  note  [g]. 

[l]   Ta  ccSofj-iva.  ou  [xaXXov   jc.  t.  A, 

[m]  E|a§oXijoi«.  Thefe,  both  from  this  account  of  Ariftotle,  and  the  correfpondent  paflage 
in  Horace,  appear  to  have  been  pieces  of  mufic  performed  between  the  afts,  that  were  foreign 
to  the  fubjedt  of  the  tragedy,  probably  to  gratify  the  audience,  by  introducing  fome  favorite 
compofition  or  performer. 


CHAP. 


Chap.  XTX.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  53 


CHAP.      XIX. 

OF    THE    SENTIMENTS. 

iriAVING  already  fpoken  fufficiently  of  the  other  parts,  it  now  re- 
mains to  treat  of  the  language  and  the  fentiments.  What  relates  to  the 
fentiments  indeed  may  rather  be  referred  to  the  principles  of  rhetoric,  as 
belonging  more  particularly  to  that  fcience ;  fince  the  fentiments  com- 
prehend whatever  may  be  effefted  by  means  of  fpeech ;  the  different 
offices  of  which  are  to  demonflrate,  to  refute,  to  excite  the  paffions  fuch 
as  fear,  anger,  and  pity,  and  to  amplify,  or  extenuate.  But  it  is  evident 
that  in  the  compofition  of  a  fable  [a]  the  fame  forms  muft  be  ufed,  when 
it  is  neceffary  to  reprefent  things  lamentable,  terrible,  great,  or  probable ; 
only  with  this  difference,  that  in  the  drama  thefe  effedls  fliould  appear 
without  the  interference  of  the  poet  [b];  whereas,  in  an  oration,  they 
mufl  be  produced  by  the  orator,  and  refult  from  the  arguments  he  ufes; 
for  what  would  be  the  merit  of  the  orator,  if  they  were  to  appear  affedling 
[c]  without  the  affiflance  of  his  eloquence. 

There  is  one  part  of  the  theory  of  elocution  relating  to  the  mode  of 
expreffion,  which  principally  belongs  to  the  player,  and  the  profeffed 

[a]  Tlptx.yy.xa-i  may  be  confidered  here  as  equivalent  with  rv  ruv  zTpxyyairuv  irurao-ft. 

[b]  From  the  circumftances  of  the  flory  alone.     '  Senza  che  fi  dica  e  che  s'infegni  che 
'  fian  tali.'         '        Piccolomini. 

[c]  'aSix,  i\/\)yjsi,yoyiK»,    See  the  Commentary. 

teachers 


54  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xix. 

teachers  of  that  art.  Such  as  to  dillinguirti  between  fupplication,  com- 
mand, narration,  queftion,  anfwer,  and  any  other  circumftances  of  the 
fame  kind.  For  no  blame,  worthy  of  notice,  can  be  imputed  to  the 
poetry,  from  knowledge  or  ignorance  of  thefe  things.  Since  who  can 
conceive  that  to  be  an  error  of  the  poet  which  Protagoras  cenfures,  when 
he  afferts,  that  inftead  of  entreating  as  he  intended,  he  commands,  by 
jfaying, 

*  Achilles'  wrath,  O  heavenly  goddefs,  fing  ;'         II.  i. 

becaufe,  to  bid  a  perfon  do,  or  not  do,  a  thing,  is  to  command.  This, 
therefore,  I  fliall  omit,  as  belonging  to  another  art,  and  not  to  poetry. 


CHAP. 


Chap. XX.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  55 


CHAP.      XX. 

OF     THE     PARTS    OF    LANGUAGE. 

J_jANGUAGE  in  general  is  divided  into  thefe  [a]  parts.  Element  or 
letter,  fyllable,  conne<5tive  particle,  name  or  noun,  word  or  verb,  article, 
cafe,  and  fentence. 

A  letter  is  an  undivided  found,  yet  not  of  any  fort,  but  of  that  only, 
from  which  an  intelligible  found  may  be  formed  :  for  though  the  founds 
made  by  beads  are  undivided,  none  of  them  can  be  called  a  letter. 
Letters  are  divided  into  vowels,  femivowels,  and  mutes.  A  vowel  has  a 
diftind:  found  independent  of  articulation  [b],  as  A,  or  O.  A  femivowcl 
has  a  found  with  articulation,  as  S,  or  R.  A  mute  has  articulation,  but 
no  found  of  itfelf,  without  being  joined  to  fome  letter  that  has 
a  found,  as  G,  or  D.     Letters  further  diifer  from  each  other,  by  the 

[a]  '  According  to  Ariftotle,  the  parts  of  fpeech  are  four.     The  article,  name,  verb,  and 

•  coiuieiSive.     This  is  not  fo  inaccurate  as  it  may  feem  at  firfl:  fight  to  be :  for  we  may  fup- 

♦  pofe  that  to  the  name  he  refers  both  the  noim,  and  its  reprefentative  the  pronoun ;  to  the 
'  verb,  (or  attribute)  the  adjeftive,  participle,  verb,  (ftriftly  fo  called,)  and  adverb,  and  con- 

*  fequently  the  interjeftion ;  and  to  the  conneftive,  both  the  conjunftion,  and  prepofition.' — 
Beattie's  Theory  of  Language,  near  the  end. 

[b]  Dacier  reads  wpoa-foA^?,  and  renders  it  '  by  adding'  (i.  e.  a  vowel).  The  fame 
tranflation  is  found  in  the  Spanifti  verfion  of  Ordonez,  corrected  by  Florez,  though  the  ufual 
reading  is  preferved  in  the  text.  But  I  cannot  reconcile  this  definition  of  a  mute  with  its 
diftindtion  from  a  femivowel.  Tlfoa-^oKri  means  here  the  allifion  of  the  tongue  againft  the 
various  parts  of  the  mouth,  in  the  formation  of  letters. 

form 


56  THE    POETIC  Chap.  XX. 

form  of  the  mouth,  the  different  [c]  organs  of  pronunciation  by  afpiration 
or  foftnefs,  by  length  or  brevity,  and  by  acutenefs,  gravity,  or  the  medium 
between  both  :  all  which  circumflances  are  rather  the  objefts  of  metrical 
treatifes. 

A  fyllable  is  compofed  of  a  mute  and  a  letter  that  has  a  found.  G  and 
R,  without  the  addition  of  A,  do  [d]  not  form  a  fyllable,  but  [e]  with 
the  addition  of  A  they  do,  as  Gra.  But  the  inveftigation  of  thefe  dif- 
tindions  belongs  likewife  to  the  art  of  verfification. 

A  [f]  connedive  particle  is  a  found  without  meaning,  which  does  not, 
when  placed  among  many  founds,  affeft  the  fignification  of  any  fmgle 
one  of  them ;  and  whofe  nature  it  is  to  be  placed  either  at  the  extremi- 

fc]  I  think  Goulfton  right,  who  fuppofes  Aiiftotle  to  mean  by  tsVoi;  the  different  organs 
of  fpeech,  from  which  letters  receive  the  feveral  denominations  of  nafal,  dental,  labial,  &c. 
Heinfius  reads  tu'ttok. 

[d]  The  fenfe  calling  for  a  negative,  which  Robertellus  fays  is  authorized  by  a  ms.  I  have 
admitted  it,  though  the  exclufion  of  it  feems  moft  agreeable  with  the  context,  as  Ariftotle  de- 
fines a  fyllable  to  be  compofed  i^  a.(pur<i,  xcci  (puvrii/  ej^^oi/lof,  '  of  a  mute  and  a  letter  having  a 
'  found.'  Now,  he  defcribes  a  femivowel  as  having  found  with  articulation,  as  a  vowel  has 
without,  TO  i^-irot,  -STf  oirSoAfl?  ix/^v  (punyiv  axour^i/.  Had  Ariftotle  meant  to  define  a  fyllable 
according  to  the  notion  followed  in  the  alteration,  (and  which  I  have  been  obliged  to  adopt  as 
the  leaft  of  two  difficulties,  as  I  cannot  conceive  how  gr  can  be  called  a  fyllable,)  he  fhould 
have  defcribed  it  to  be,  l^  a'^wva,  5  «/*i^wvk,  xai  (pmmvloi,  compounded  of  a  mute  or  femi- 
vowel, and  a  vowel. 

[eJ  Axxoc.  /asV,  tb  a. — MS.  quoted  by  Robertellus. 

[f]  I  have  endeavoured  to  give  the  cleareft  fcnfc  I  could  of  this  difficult  palTagc,  following 
the  reading  propofed  by  Winftanley  in  this  and  the  fucceeding  paragraph. 

ties. 


Chap.  XX,  OF    ARISTOTLE.  57 

ties,  of  in  the  middle  of  a  fentence,  unlefs  it  requires  to  be  placed  by  itfelf 
at  the  beginning  [g],  as  therefore,  certainly,  indeed.  Or,  in 
other  words,  it  is  a  found  without  meaning  itfelf,  whofe  property  it  is  to 
form  one  fenfe  [h]  from  many  intelligible  founds. 

An  article  is  an  unmeaning  found,  which  marks  the  beginning,  the 
end,  or  fome  particular  diftinftion  of  a  fentence ;  as  [i]  To  (p?jp,  or  To 
weft,  or  Tec  cchKx.  Or,  in  other  words,  it  is  a  found  without  meaning 
itfelf,  wliich  does  not  affedt  the  fignification  of  any  one  found  among 
many,  and  whofe  nature  it  is  to  be  placed  either  at  the  extremities,  or  in 
the  middle  of  a  fentence. 

A  noun  is  a  compounded  found,  having  fignification,  but  not  marking 
time,  and  whofe  parts,  taken  by  themfelves,  have  no  meaning.  For  even 
in  names  compofed  of  two  words,  we  never  conceive  either  of  the  parts, 
taken  feparately,  to  have  any  meaning;  as,  in  the  name  Theodorus, 
DORUS  [k]  has  no  meaning. 


[g]  I  do  not  fee  how  this  definition  agrees  with  the  Greek  examples,  !^\v,  hroi,  Sri,  ex- 
-cept,  as  Coolce  fuppofes,  we  are  to  underftand  it  as  meant  of  the  beginning  of  the  fenfe,  and 
not  the  words  of  the  fentence, 

[i]  I  have  retained  the  Greek  examples ;  for  fimilar  inftances  in  our  own  language  the 
reader  is  referred  to  the  Commentary. 

[k]  Theodorus  is  compounded  of  two  Greek  words  ©to?,  God,  and  Su^ov,  a  gift.  I  do 
not  know  why  Ariftotle  confined  his  obfervation  to  Sa^ov  fince  it  is  equally  applicable  to  the 
other  word.     In  our  own  language  the  name  of  Shakefpear  is  exactly  a  fimilar  example. 

I  A  verb 


58  THEPOETIC  Chap.  xx. 

A  verb  is  a  compounded  Significant  found,  marking  time ;  the  parts 
of  which,  as  in  the  noun,   have  no  fignification  in  themfelves.     Man, 
and  WHITE,  do  not  fpecify  time;  but  he  walks,  and  he  walked,.. 
do,  one  a  prefent,  the  other  a  part  time. 

A  cafe  is  incident  both  to  the  noun  and  the  verb,  and  either  marks 
fuch  relations  as  of,  or  from,  or  to,  a  thing ;  or  fhews  the  number, 
whether  it  be  one,  or  many,  as  man,  or  men  ;  or  marks  whether  the 
intention  of  the  fpeaker  is  to  queftion  or  order.  Did  he  go  ?  or  go, 
may  be  confidered  as  a  fpecies  of  cafe  incident  to  verbs. 

A  fentence  or  difcourfe  is  a  compounded,  fignificant  found,  fome  parts 
of  which  have  meaning  by  themfelves.  It  [l]  is  allowed  there  may  be 
a  fentence  without  a  verb,  for  every  fentence  is  not  compofed  both  of 
verbs  and  nouns ;  as,  for  inftance,  the  definition  [m]  of  a  man.  Yet, 
fome  part  of  it  has  always  fignification,  as  the  name  Cleon,  in  the  fen- 
tence Cleon  walked.  The  unity  of  a  fentence  or  difcourfe  arifes 
from  two  caufes ;  either  from  having  one  fignification,  or  from  being 
joined  by  a  number  of  connedlive  particles.  Thus  the  Iliad  pofiefTes 
unity  by  means  of  conneftive  particles,  and  the  definition  of  a  man,  by 
having  one  fignification. 

[l]  I  have  hazarded  a  tranfpofition  of  the  text,  as  giving  a  clearer  fenfe.     ^A>X  hiip^ijxi 
■  [m]  a  tcrreftrial  animal  with  two  feet.     2«»ii  tJi^lv  Si-rrHv.     Ariftot.  arfji  'Ef/x>ive/aif, 


CHAP. 


C«AP.  xxr.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  59 


CHAP.    xxr. 

OF    NOUNS    OR    NAMES. 

JN  OUNS  are  either  fimple,  (by  fimple,  I  mean,  not  compofed  of  fig- 
nificant  founds,)  or  compounded.  And  of  thefe  laft,  fome  are  compofed 
partly  of  fignificant,  and  partly  of  unmeaning  founds,  and  fome  entirely 
of  fignificant  founds.  Others,  again,  are  trebly  and  quadruply  com- 
pounded, like  many  of  the  words  ufed  by  the  dithyrambic  [a]  poets,  as, 
for  inftance,  Hermocaicoxanthus. 

Nouns  are  either  proper  or  foreign  [b],  or  metaphorical,  or  ornamental, 
or  invented  for  the  purpofe,  or  lengthened,  or  fhortened,  or  changed. 

I  call  that  a  proper  name,  which  is  in  general  ufe  ;  and  that  a  foreign 
one,  which  is  ufed  by  ftrangers.     The  fame  word  may,  therefore,  be 

[a]  MtyxXiuluJv,  This  word  has  perplexed  all  the  commentators.  Harles  fays,  '  It 
•  ftrikes  me  that  it  fhould  be  fAS'ya  ^ixXxuluv,  i.  e.  of  thofe  who  compofe  dithyrambics.  Or 
'  perhaps  Ariftotle  alludes  to  fome  kind  of  Arcadian  verfe,  at  that  time  fung  by  the  Megapo- 
-*■  litans,  in  which  Hermocaicoxanthus  occurred,  compofed  of  "E^ uoj,  Kai'xof,  and  Hai/9of, 

'  (which  are  the  names  of  three  rivers  in  Afia)  and  therefore  he  wrote  Meyx^onoXtl-iii,' 
I  have  adopted  the  firft  idea.     See  the  Commentary. 

[b]  The  rAuxIa,  which,  for  want  of  a  better  word,  I  tranflate  foreign,  mufl  not  be  con- 
lidered  in  the  fame  light  with  our  introdudion  of  pure  French  and  Italian  words  into  ourcom- 
pofitions,  than  which  nothing  can  be  more  afFedled  and  inelegant.  It  confifted  in  transferrino- 
a  word  from  one  of  the  Greek  dialedts  to  another. 

I  2  •         both 


6o  THEPOETIC  €hap.  xxi. 

both  proper  and  foreign  though  not  to  the  fame  people ;  as  the  word 
Ziyvvov  [c]  is  proper  to  the  Cyprians,  and  foreign  to  us. 

A  metaphor  [d]  is  the  tranfpofition  of  a  word  to  an  unufual  fignifica- 
tion,  either  from  the  genus  to  the  fpecies,  or  from  the  fpecies  to  the 
genus,  or  from  one  fpecies  to  another,  or  according  to  analogy.  I  call 
from  genus  to  fpecies  fuch  an  inflance  as  this  : 

*  There  is  my  vefTel  flation'd.'         Odyssey,  L.  i» 
For  to  be  moored  is  a  ipecies  of  being  flationed. 

From  fpecies  to  genus,  fuch  as 

*  Ten  thoufand  glorious  adls 

*  UlylTes  has  atchiev'd' —  Iliad,  L.  ii. 

For  ten  thoufand  is  a  great  number,  and  is  now  in  general  ufe  to  exprefs 
many.     From  one  fpecies  to  another  as  in  thefe  inftances 

[e]  *  The  brazen  falchion  drew  away  his  life.' 

[c]  A  dart  made  entirely  of  fteeJ. 

[o]  In  the  words  of  Mr.  Harris :  *  A  metaphor  is  the  transferring  of  a  word  from  its  ufual 
'  meaning  to  an  analogous  one,  and  then  employing  it  according  to  that  transfer.'  Philo- 
lOGiCAL  Enquiries,  partii,  chapter  x. 

[e]  So  in  Virgil, 

— '  Ferit  eminus  hafta, 
*  Vocem  animamque  rapit  trajedo  gutture.'— 

And 


Chap.  XXI.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  6i 

And 

[f]  '  Cut  by  the  ruthlefs  fword.' 

Where,  to  draw  away,  and  to  cut,  are  ufed  alternately  for  each  other, 
each  being  a  fpecies  of  taking  fomething  away.  And  I  call  it  by  ana- 
logy, when  the  fecond  term  having  the  fame  relation  to  the  firft  that  the 
fourth  has  to  the  third,  the  fourth  is  ufed  inftead  of  the  fecond,  and  the 
fecond  inftead  of  the  fourth  -,  and  fometimes  what  has  only  analogy  [g] 
to  a  thing,  is  ufed  for  what  it  really  is.  As  a  cup  has  the  fame  relation 
to  Bacchus,  that  a  fhield  has  to  Mars,  a  fhield  may  be  called  the  cup  of 
Mars,  and  a  cup  the  fliield  of  Bacchus.  Evening  has  the  fame  relation 
to  day,  that  old-age  has  to  life  ;  therefore  evening  may  be  called  the  old- 
age  of  day,  and  old-age  the  evening  of  life,  or,  as  it  is  ftyled  by  Empedo- 
cles,  *  the  fetting  of  life.'  In  fome  inftances,  even  where  there  is  no 
analogous  name,  the  fame  method  may  be  employed  :  to  fcatter  grain,  is 
called  to  fow ;  but  there  is  no  name  for  the  fun's  fcattering  his  beams, 
and  yet  that  has  the  fame  analogy  to  the  fun,  that  fowing  has  to  grain. 
Hence  the  expreffion  of  the  Poet, 

[h]  *  Sowing  abroad  his  heaven-created  fire.' 

[f]  Winftanley  propofes,  inftead  of  rdft-vtv  drripu  ^.^Xnu,  to  read  xaT^^f  unXti  p^aXxu, 
which  is  the  end  of  a  line  in  Homer.     II.  hi.  v.  292. 

[g]  I  am  not  fatisfied  with  my  own,  or  any  other  interpretation  of  this  pafTage,  of  which 
Heinfius  fays,  '  Certum  eft,  non  efle  locum  qui  magis  fatigavit  interpretes.'  Batteus 
tranflates  it,  *  Quelques  fois  meme,  on  met  fimplement  le  mot  analogique,  au  lieu  du  mot 
*  propre.'  Winftanley,  with  his  ufual  happinefs  of  conjedlure,  propofes  to  read,  x«l 
li/ioli  Tii'3(/li^ia,<ri  ai-fi'  i  kiyet  wf 0;  0  Iriv  'ANAAOFON,  o7ov  y..  r.  X. 

[h]  — — Et  lumine  conferit  arva — Lucretius, 
I  This 


62  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xxi. 

This  fort  of  metaphor  may  be  ufed  in  a  different  manner,  by  adding 
feme  circumftances  that  belong  to  another  thing,  and  denying  part  of 
what  belongs  to  itfelf.     As  if  a  fliield  fhould  be  called 

*  The  winelefs  cup  of  Mars.'  [i] 

An  invented  name  is  an  appellation  given  to  a  thing  by  the  poet  vt'hich 
was  not  before  in  general  ufe.  The  fubflituting^Epi/JJo!*  [K]inftead  of 
Kepocjx,  for  HORNS,  and  calling  a  priest  'ApijTi?^,  inftead  of'lspevg,  feetn 
to  come  under  this  defcription. 

A  word  is  lengthened,  or  fhortened,  either  by  ufing  a  long  vowel  in- 
ftead  of  a  fhort  one,  or  by  inferting  an  additional  fyllable ;  or  on  the 
other  hand  by  taking  any  thing  away  either  from  the  word  itfelf,  or  the 
additional  fyllable.  noXr^og  for  IloXeog,  and  nriXrjixSsco  for  n^jXs/iJW,  ar^ 
lengthened  names,  and  fuch  as  ;cpr[L]  ^u,  or  oiJl^  as  in  this  example, 

are  fliortened  ones. 

[ij  This  emendation  is  propofed  by  Winftanlcy,  £»  rriv  a.<nrlSa,  tiVoi  (plxXr,]/  MEN^AffWj, 
aAA"AOINON.  And  this  agrees  with  what  Ariftotle  hasjuft  obferved.  The  faying  'the 
'  cup  of  Mars,'  is  adding  a  circumftance  that  belongs  to  another  thing,  to  xWoTptov  -upotrx- 
yo/j£uer«f ,  and  joining  to  it  the  epithet  '  winckfs,'  is  denying  fomething  that  belongs  to  itfelf, 
TWK  oixiiuv  Ti  aVoy/ifl-ai.  This  daring  metaphor,  '  audaciflimum  metaphorx  exemplum,' 
Harles  fays,  is  fuppofed  to  be  taken  from  Theognis  the  ditliyrambic  poet. 

{k]  "Ef  n/Iflii  is  derived  from  'i^vr],  which,  according  to  Hefychius,  fignifies  buds,  or  scions. 
'AfTiI'if  is  from  dcdoy.xt,  TO  PRAY. 

[l]  F"or  xfi'S*!,  J'w,u«,  and  '/'ij'ij. 

A  noun 


Chap.  XXI.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  63 

A  noun  is  changed  when  part  of  it  is  in  its  original  Hate  and  part  the 
invention  of  the  poet,  as  Ae^iJBpov  inftead  of  A£|(o!/ [m]. 

Nouns  alfo  are  either  mafculine,  feminine,  or  neuter.  The  mafculinc 
end  either  in  N  or  P,  or  in  one  of  thofe  letters  that  are  compounded  of 
mutes  [n],  which  are  two,  viz.  f  or  H.  The  feminine  end  in  the  long 
vowels  H  or  XI,  or  in  long  A.  So  the  number  of  terminations  for  maf- 
culine and  feminine  are  equal,  the  terminations  of  y  and  s  being  the 
fame  [o].  No  noun  ends  in  a  mute  or  fhort  vowel,  and  only  three  in  I, 
viz.  |W£A;,  Kof^f^t,  and  'weTrept;  and  five  in  T,  viz.  ttuv,  vxttv,  yew  Sopv,  and 
ag-u.    The  neuter  end  either  in  thefe  vowels,  or  in  N  and  2  [p]. 

[m]  Does  not  this  feem  equivalent  to  the  lengthened  word  ? 

[n]  Of  the  mutes  tt  and  u,  and  the  femivowel  <r, 

[o]  Both  ending  in  s". 

[p]  Heinfius  juftly  obferves  that  this  pafTage  muft  be  greatly  corrupted.  The  befi:  emen- 
dation of  it  is  in  Winftanley's  notes,  of  which  this  is  the  fubftance.  '  The  mafculine  end  in 
'  ''j  f  J  or  (7,  and  its  compounds,  which  are  two,  4^,  and  ^.  The  feminine  end  in  the  vowels 
'  that  are  always  long,  and  long  a ;  therefore  the  mafculine  and  feminine  happen  to  be  equal  in 
'  number,  as  4'}  ?»  and  o",  are  the  fame.  No  noun  ends  with  a  mute  or  fhort  vowel,  three 
'  only  in  ij  and  five  in  v.     The  neuter  end  in  thefe  vowels,  and  in  v,  o",  or  f .' 


CHAP. 


64  THE    POETIC  Chap.xxii. 

CHAP.      XXII. 

OF    THE    EXCELLENCE    OF    LANGUAGE. 

X  HE  perfedlion  of  language  confifts  in  being  perfpicuous  and  yet  not 
mean.  Language  is  moft  perfpicuous  when  it  confifts  entirely  of  words 
taken  in  their  ufual  fenfe,  but  then  it  will  be  mean;  examples  of  which 
may  be  drawn  from  the  poetry  of  Cleophon  and  Sthenelus.  It  will 
have  more  dignity,  and  be  further  removed  from  the  vulgar  idiom,  by 
the  ufe  of  uncommon  words ;  by  uncommon  words  I  mean  the  foreign, 
the  metaphorical,  the  lengthened,  and  all  except  thofe  in  common  ufe. 
But  were  a  poem  to  be  entirely  compofed  of  thefe,  it  would  be  either  an, 
enigma,  or  a  continued  barbarifm.  If  chiefly  compofed  of  metaphors, 
it  would  be  an  enigma,  and  if  of  foreign  words,  a  barbarifm.  For  the 
property  of  an  enigma  is  to  make  thofe  circumftances  that  really  belong 
to  a  thing,  have  the  appearance  of  impoffibility,  which  cannot  refult 
from  the  arrangement  of  the  words  [a]  alone,  but  mull  be  effedled  by 
metaphors.     As  [b],  '  I  faw  one  man  glewing  brafs  to  another  man 

[a]  Heinfms  propofes  to  read  t^v  twv  y-vfuav  IvofxxTm  o-ui/flsa-iv,  making  the  oppofition 
between  common  names  and  metaphors. 

[b]  The  whole  enigma  is  preferved  by  Athenseus : 

AvB  I'iSoM  TTVft  p^aAitoy  ett'  ccusfi  >to^Xi(r«VTa, 

»  I  faw  a  man  glewing'  brafs  to  another  man  by  means  of  fire,  and  fo  glewing,  that  the  fame 
*  blood  flowed  through  both.'  This  alludes  to  the  operation  of  cupping,  which  the  ancients 
performed  with  brazen  cups. 

*  with 


Chap.  xxir.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  65 

"  with  fire,"  and  others  of  the  fame  kind.  But  a  barbarifm  is  occa- 
fioned  by  the  ufe  of  foreign  words.  Therefore  thefe  modes  of  expref- 
fion  fliould  be  tempered  with  common  ones ;  for  then,  while  the  foreign 
words,  the  metaphors,  the  ornamented  phrafes,  and  the  other  fpecies 
that  have  been  mentioned,  hinder  the  language  from  being  vulgar  and 
mean,  the  proper  names  give  it  perfpicuity. 

The  lengthening,  fliortening,  and  changing  of  names,  contribute  not 
a  little  to  make  the  language  elevated,  and  yet  perfpicuous.  The 
expreffions,  being  different  from  thofe  in  common  ufe,  diftinguifli  it 
from  the  vulgar  idiom  ;  and  yet  its  near  refemblance  to  what  is  generally 
fpoken,  renders  it  perfpicuous.  Thofe,  therefore,  do  not  find  fault 
with  juflice,  who  blame  this  mode  of  fpeech,  and,  like  the  elder  Euclides, 
ridicule  the  poet  for  the  eafe  there  mufl  be  in  compofmg  verfe,  if  it 
were  permitted  to  lengthen  the  quantity  of  fyllables  at  pleafure,  making 

iambic  [c]  verfes  even  in  common  difcourfe.     The  examples  he  produces 
are, 

Ht<  Xapiv  eloov  MxpxSuvcc  Qocol^ovTOi. 

and 

fc]  This  pafllige  has  been  very  perplexing  to  the  critics.  The  Greek  examples  not  being 
reducible  to  any  fpecies  of  verfe,  fome  corredt  them  to  make  them  iambics.  Others,  becaufe 
no  fyllable  appears  altered  or  lengthened,  fupply  the  alteration  themfelves,  as  isdone  by  Hein- 
fius;  he  alfo  alters  the  context  very  much,  adding,  after  the  word  exritutit/,  the  words 
t)  i^aKKxTleiv,  and  reading,  inflead  of  lxfAQoTrot^(r!x,?,  a.jj.^ta  TroiJiVa?,  making  this  the  fenfe 
of  Ariftotle :  '  Though  Euclides  faid  it  would  be  eafy  to  make  verfes,  if  any  word  might 
'  be  lengthened  or  changed  at  pleafure,  yet  he  himfclf  has  done  both,  even  in  profe,  as  in 
*  thefe  examples.'  But  I  confefs  1  fee  no  reafon  for  altering  one  word  of  the  original,  as 
it  now  flands,  from  which  I  think  a  clear  fenfe  may  be  deduced,  without  pretending  to  deferve 
the  compliment  promifed  by  Heinfius,  of  being  '  yates  optimus.'  Euclides  objects,  that  if 
a  poet  may  lengthen  what  lyllables  he  chufes,  the  compofition  of  verfe  would  be  fo  eafy,  that 

^  iambics 


66  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xxir. 

and 

Indeed,  it  Is  apparent  how  ridiculous  fuch  an  abufe  of  this  licenfe  muft 
be,  but  moderation  [d]  is  equally  required  in  the  ufe  of  all  the  other 
parts.  An  abfurd  and  ridiculous  ufe  of  metaphors,  foreign  words,  and 
other  forms  of  that  fort,  would  have  the  fame  effeft ;  and  yet  we  may 
fee  how  advantageous  a  proper  ufe  of  them  is  in  epic  poetry,  by  iirft 
putting  the  words  in  verfe,  and  then  if  any  perfon  {hould  afterwards 
fubftitute  ordinary  expreffions  for  the  foreign  names,  metaphors,  and  the 
other  forms,  he  will  perceive  the  truth  of  our  affertion.  Euripides  and 
iEfchylus  both  wrote  an  iambic  verfe  the  fame  in.  every  refpe(ft,  excepting  a 

iambics  might  be  made  even  in  common  converfction ;  which  is  Jufl:  equivalent  vnth  an 
Englifliman's  faying,  that  if  a  poet  might  accent  what  fyllables  he  pleafed,  he  might  make 
blank  verfe  in  common  converfation.  And  if,  to  illuftrate  this,  he  were  to  quote  the  following 
line  of  Mikon, 

*  To  the  garden  of  blifs,  thy  feat  prepared,' 

furely  the  propriety  of  the  quotation  could  not  be  queftioned,  becaufe  it  was  not  verie,  with- 
out a  vicious  pronunciation ;  Ance  the  illuflration  arifes  from  accenting  fyllables  that  fhould 
not  be  accented,  as  in  the  Greek,  from  pronouncing  fyllables  long,  which  are  really  fhort. 
See  the  commentary. 

[d]  To  ^£  ju.£Tfot>.  I  have  fome  doubts  if  this  fhould  not  be  rendered,  '  Since  metre  is 
'  eflential  to  aTl  the  parts  (i.  e.  of  verification ).'  And  that  Ariftotle,  meaning  to  cenfure 
the  hypercriticifm  of  Euclides,  having  mentioned  his  objeiSionto  the  arbitrary  lengthening  of 
fyllables,  his  opinion  of  the  fubfequent  eafe  of  verfification,  and  his  abfurd  example?,  adds, 
'  But  to  ufe  the  licenfe  in  this  way,  would  be  ridiculous,  quantity  (meafure,  lAir^ov)  being 
*  a  common  eflential  to  all  kinds  of  verfe.'  And  thus  blames  Euclides  for  cenfuring  the 
«fe  of  a  licenfe,  from  the  poflibility  of  a  ridiculous  abufe  of  it.  To  f^ir^ov  is  employed  in 
this  fenfe  in  the  next  fentence,  and  indeed  is  never  ufed  in  any  ether  in  the  courfe  of  the 
poetic,  though  it  occurs  fo  often. 

fingle 


Chap.  xxir.  OF    ARISTOTLE,  6^ 

fingle  word,  which  being  altered  from  the  accuftomed  common  form  to  a 
foreign  one,  caufcd  one  verfe  to  appear  beautiful  and  the  other  mean*?^ 
^fchylus,  in  his  Philodtetes,  writes, 

*  Lo  !  on  my  foot  a  wailing  ulcer  feeds  !' 

The  other  fubftitutes  fov'EcrdUi,  the  common  Greek  word  for  feeds,  or 
EATS,  the  word  Qotvpircu  which  is  foreign  and  unufual.  What  would 
be  the  effedt,  if,  in  this  verfe  of  Homer, 

*  Not  this  weak  pigmy  wretch  of  mean  defign,*     Od.  ix. 

We  fliould  infert  the  common  words  little  and  vile  ;  or,  In  this 
verfe,  for 

*  A  tripod  table,  and  ignobler  feat,'     Od.  xx. 
we  fliould  fay 

*  A  three-foot  table,  and  a  lower  feat  :* 
or,  inftead  of 

*  The  diftant  rocks  re-bellow  to  the  roar,*       II.  xvii. 
we  fliould  fay 

*  refounded  with  the  noife.' 

Ariphrades  alfo  ridicules  the  tragic  poets,   for  employitig  forms  of 
language  that  are  not  ufed  in  common  converfation,  and  inverting  [e] 

[e]  I  have  left  out  the  examples,  as  they  are  peculiar  to  the  Greek  language.  Their  im- 
port will  be  clearly  fuggefted  to  the  Englilh  reader,  by  fuch  modes  of  expreflion  as  '  wrath 
*  divine'  for  '  divine  wrath,'  and  '  his  power  confefs'd'  for  '  confefs'd  his  power.'  >  Sec 
the  commentary. 

K  e  the 


68  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xxii. 

the  order  of  the  words,  though  their  differing  from  common  u£e  is  the 
very  circumflance  that  elevates  the  ftyle.     But  of  this  he  was  ignorant. 

There  is  great  merit  in  ufing  all  the  forms  we  have  mentioned  with 
propriety ;  fuch  as  compounded  and  foreign  words.  But  the  greateft 
art  is  to  be  happy  in  forming  metaphors ;  for  that  alone  cannot  be 
acquired  from  others,  but  is  itfelf  a  proof  of  good  natural  genius  ;  fince 
to  form  metaphors  well,  is  to  obferve  the  iimilitude  of  things. 

Compounded  words  fult  beft  with  dithyrambic,  foreign  words  with 
heroic,  and  metaphors  with  iambic  verfe.  Indeed,  all  that  have  been 
mentioned  may  be  ufed  in  heroic  verfe ;  but  for  iambics,  which  are 
chiefly  an  imitation  of  common  difcourfe,  fuch  words-  are  moft  calcu- 
lated which  may  be  ufed  in  converfation,  as  the  proper,  the  metapho- 
rical, and  the  ornamentah 

This  is  fufficient  concerning  tragedy,  and  dramatic  imitation,. 


CHAP. 


Chap,  xxiii.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  69 


CHAP.      XXIII. 

OF    EPIC    POETRY. 

i\S  to  imitations  that  arefolely  produced  by  narration  and  verfe  [a],  it 
is  evident  that  even  there,  as  in  tragedy,  the  fables  fliould  have  a  dra- 
matic form,  and  relate  to  one  entire  and  complete  aftion,  that  has  a 
beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end,  and  which,  like  one  perfedl  animal, 
il:iould  produce  its  peculiar  delight;  and  not  follow  the  cuftom  of  hiftory, 
where  it  is  not  neceffary  to  confine  the  fubjeft  to  one  adlion,  but  to 
one  period  of  time ;  and  where  every  thing  may  be  introduced  that 
happened  in  that  time,  whether  relating  to  one  or  more  perfons,  how- 
ever cafual  their  connexion  may  be  [b].  For  as  the  fea-fight  at  Salamis, 
and  the  battle  with  the  Carthagenians  in  Sicily,  though  they  happened 
at  the  fame  [g]  time,  by  no  means  conduced  to  the  fame  end ;  fo  alfo 
even  in  progreffive  time  events  may  fometimes  be  conneded  [d],  and 
yet  no  particular  common  confequence  may  arife  from  them. 

[a]  Certainly  hexameter  verfe.  Neverthelefs  iv  f*£Tju  is  not  put  here  xar'  e^o^rio  for 
hexameter  verfe,  but  to  diftinguifli  the  epopee  as  ufing  verfe  only  unaflifted  by  mufic,  appa- 
ratus, &c.  So  Goulfton,  '  SOLO  imitatur  metro.'  See  note  [f]  chapter  xxvi.  as  alfo  note  ii. 
of  the  commentary  on  the  fame  chapter. 

[e]  See  Beattie  on  Imagination,  chapter  xi.  fe£l.  i.  page  86,  note. 

[c]  Herodotus  fays  the  viftory  obtained  by  Gelo  over  the  Carthagenians  happened  the 
fame  day  with  the  battle  of  Salamis ;  but  Diodorus  Siculus,  on  the  fame  day  with  the 
battle  of  Thermopylx. 

[d]  QxTi^ov  lAtTx  6a;T£^a.  '  Interpreters  have  followed  one  another  in  rendering  this 
*  paffage  sit  unus  post  alterum,-  This  conftrudlion  mull:  be  erroneous,  fince  |(*£Ta 
»  with  a  genitive,  fignifies  "  in  conjundlion  with."  Monthly  Review  on  Cooke's  edition 
of  the  Poetic,  Julv,  1787.     See  the  commentary. 

This 


70  THE    POET.IG  Chap,  xxiii. 

This  manner  is  neverthelefs  adopted  by  the  generality  of  poets  :  there- 
fore even  in  this  refped:.  Homer,  as  we  [e]  have  before  obferved,  when 
compared  with  all  other  writers,  may  almoft  feem  infpired.  He  did  not 
even  attempt  to  include  the  whole  Trojan  war,  though  it  had  a  beginning 
and  an  end.  For  it  either  would  have  been  fo  large  as  not  to  be  eafily 
comprehended  in  one  view ;  or,  if  it  had  been  reduced  to  a  moderate 
fize,  it  would  have  been  confufed  from  the  number  of  incidents. 
Taking,  therefore,  only  one  part  for  his  fubjeft,  he  introduces  abun- 
dance of  epifodes  from  the  other  parts.  Such  as  the  catalogue  of  the 
fhips,  and  the  other  epifodes,  with  which  he  has  adorned  his  poem. 
While  other  poets,  like  the  authors  of  the  Cypriacs  [f],  and  the  lefler 
Iliad,  are  fatisfied  if  they  confine  themfelves  to  one  perfon,  one  period  of 
time,  or  one  adlion,  though  it  may  have  many  parts.  Not  more  than 
one,  or  two  tragedies  at  the  moft,  could  be  formed  either  from  the  Iliad 
or  the  Odyfley.  But  many  might  from  the  Cypriacs  ;  and  from  the 
lefler  Iliad  more  than  eight.  As  the  Judgment  of  the  arms,  Philodletes, 
Neoptolemus,  Eurypylus,  the  Ptochia  [g],  the  Lacasnas,  the  Deflrudlion 
of  Troy,  the  Return  of  the  Greeks,  Sinon,  and  the  Troades. 

[e]  See  chapter  iv. 

[f]  That  this  poem  had  been  attributed  to  Homer,  fo  early  as  the  time  of  Herodotus,  is 
evident  from  that  hiftorian's  contradifting  the  opinion.  Kara  ravToc  Si  t«  tTrix,  y.x)  roSt 
TO  ■^u^iov  ax  "iitiroc  aAXa  [A.ixXtfX  ifiXcii  an  o-jy.'Ojji.i^pis  to,  KiTrpiaiirix  iri  aAX'  aA.As  Ti'>of. 
'  From  thefe  words,  and  the  mention  of  the  country,  it  is  very  clear  that  the  Cyprian  verfes 
'  are  not  the  work  of  Homer,  but  of  fome  other  perfon.' 

[g]  Ylru-x^ita.,  poverty.  Perhaps  UlylTes  going  as  a  fpy  to  Troy,  difguifed  in  a  mean 
habit.  See  Odyfley,  1.  ii.  ver.  245,  of  the  original ;  ver.  336  of  Pope.  Mr.  Twining  ob- 
fervcs,  that  what  in  Homer  fignifies  vagrant  or  beggar,  Pope  has  rendered  flave.  But 
Pope  is  undoubtedly  right,  for  the  word  in  the  original  is  outiji',  explained  by  the  Scholiall 
etxirrj  SdXa. 

Why  may  not  this  as  probably  allude  to  the  difguife  of  Ulyfles  on  his  return  to  Ithaca  ? 

CHAP. 


Chap.  XXIV.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  71 

CHAP.      XXIV. 

OF    THE    DIFFERENCE    BETWEEN    THE;   EPOPEE    AND    TRAGEDY. 

J.  HE  [a]  fpecles  alfo  of  the  epopee  are  the  fame  with  thofe  of  tra- 
gedy. For  it  muft  be  either  fimple,  complicated,  ethic  [b],  or  pathe- 
tic. The  parts  alfo  are  the  fame,  except  the  mufic  and  the  fcenery. 
It  fliould  have  peripetia,  difcovery,  and  pathos.  The  language  alfo  and 
fentiments  fhould  be  well  conftrudled.  All  of  thefe  Homer  ufed  both 
with  fuperior  excellence  [c]  and  propriety.  For  he  formed  his  poems 
in  fuch  a  manner,  as  to  give  examples  of  them  all  [d].  The  Iliad  is 
fimple  and  pathetic ;  the  Odyffey  complicated,  (having  difcoveries 
throughout  the  whole,)  and  full  of  charadteriftic  manners.  And  befide 
this,  in  his  language  and  fentiments  he  was  unequalled. 

But  the  epopee  differs  from  tragedy  in  the  length  of  the  compofition 
and  the  nature  of  the  verfe.  Its  proper  length  has  been  mentioned  already; 
there  fliould  be  a  pofTibility  of  comprehending  the  beginning  and  end  in 
one  view,  and  this  would  be  attained  if  they  were  a  little  fhorter  than  the 
compofitions  of  the  earlier  poets,  and  reduced  to  the  fame  length  with 
the  number  of  tragedies  that  are  performed  at  one  time. 

[a]  See  chapter  xviii. 

[b]  See  chapter  xvill.  note  [c]. 

[c]  I  conceive  tt^ wtoj  here  to  mean  firft  in  point  of  excellence,  not  time, 

[d]  I  have  ventured  a  flight  degree  of  paraphrafe,  as  it  renders  the  fenfe  of  the  whole 

paflage  more  clear. 

The 


72  THE    POETIC  C«ap.  xxiv. 

Tke  epopee  polTefTes  a  property  peculiar  to  itfelf,  which  contributes 
greatly  to  augment  its  lengthy  For  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  tragedy 
to  reprefent  a  variety  of  adlions  that  happen  at  the  fame  time,  but  only 
that  individual  one  which  then  occupies  the  fcene,  and  which  the  per- 
formers are  in  the  a6l  of  reprefenting.  But  the  epopee,  being  a  narra- 
tion, may  introduce  many  cotemporary  incidents  relative  to  the  prin- 
cipal fubjeft,  which  will  encreafe  the  bulk  of  the  poem,  fo  that  it  will 
not  only  receive  the  advantage  of  fuperior  magnificence,  but  the  poet 
will  be  able  to  tranfport  the  hearer  from  place  to  place  [e],  and  give 
variety  to  his  work  by  a  number  of  different  epifodes :  whereas  the 
famenefs  of  events,  foon  producing  fatiety,  has  occafioned  the  failure  of 
nany  tragedies^ 

The  choice  of  heroic  verfe  has  been  confirmed  by  experience  j  for  if 
a  narrative  imitation  were  to  be  attempted  in  any  other  fort  of  verfe,  or 
in  many  forts  mixed,  the  impropriety  would  be  apparent.  The  heroic 
meafure  excels  every  other  kind  in  dignity  and  elevation  ;  on  which 
account  it  is  moft  capable  of  receiving  foreign  and  metaphorical  expref- 
fions.  For  narrative  imitation  is,  above  all  others,  complete  [f]  in  it- 
felf, but  iambics  and  tetrameters  require  the  afliftance  of  movement,  the 
one  by  means  of  dancers,  the  other  by  atftors  :  it  would  be  very  abfurd 
therefore  to  mix  them  together,  as  was  done  by  Chasremon  [g].     For 

[e]  MiTx^xXXin/  Tou  dxo'joiiroi.  Ariftotle  ufes  this  verb  in  the  fame  fenfe  in  his  Hiftory 
of  Animals,  I.  viii.     MtTafaAAoiirt  yie  tV.  tuv  'Lhv^ikuv  £15  t«  tAj)  ra.  xnu  ttJ?  AtyuTrns, 

[f]  IlfjiTli?,  full,  complete.  Becaufe  it  effeifls  its  end  purely  by  itfelf.  This  muft  be 
the  fenfe  in  which  Ariftotle  ufes  the  word,  as  he  afterwards,  on  the  whole,  gives  the  prefer- 
ence to  tragedy. 

[o]  See  chapter  i.  note  [cj  towards  the  end. 

thefe 


Chap.  XXIV.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  ji 

thcfe  reafons.  No  long  compofition  has  been  attempted  in  any  other 
verfe  except  the  heroic,  nature  herfclf,  as  we  have  before  obferved  [h], 
pointing  out  that  as  the  moft  proper. 

As  Homer  is  admirable  in  many  other  things,  fo  he  is  particularly 
excellent  in  being  the  only  poet  who  was  not  ignorant  how  far  he  ought 
to  adl  himfelf.  The  poet  fhould  appear  himfelf  as  little  as  poflible,  for 
whenever  he  fpeaks  in  his  own  perfon,  he  ceafes  to  hz  an  imitator. 
Other  poets  fliew  themfelves  through  the  whole  poem,  and  only  imitate 
a  few  things,  and  that  feldom ;  but  Homer,  after  a  fliort  introdudlion, 
immediately  introduces  a  man  or  a  woman,  or  fome  other  agent  that  is 
diftinguiflied  by  manners ;  for  he  produces  no  agent  without  charadle- 
rillic  manners. 

Though  wonder  ought  to  be  excited  by  tragedy,  yet  things  [i]  con- 
trary to  reafon,  which  excite  wonder  in  the  higheft  degree,  are  better 
admitted  in  the  epopee,  from  the  adlion  not  being  placed  before  the 
eyes.  In  the  purfuit  of  Hedlor,  the  circumftance  of  the  Greeks  flanding 
ftill  and  not  following,  and  Achilles  making  figns  for  them  not  to  engage, 
would  appear  ridiculous  in  the  reprefentation  ;  but  in  the  epopee  the 
abfurdity  is  concealed.  In  general,  whatever  is  wonderful  is  pleafing ; 
as  a  proof  of  which,  whoever  relates  any  fail  is  apt  to  add  fomething 
marvellous  to  gratify  the  hearers. 

Homer  alfo  was  the  belt  inftrudor  how  to  introduce  fpecious  fallacies 
by  means  of  falfe  reafoning  [k].     (Men  naturally  imagine,  when  certain 

confequences 

[h]  Chapter  iv.  near  the  end. 

[i]  "A'Koyov,  SI  !i. ViTTORio. 

[k]  As  the  literal  conftrudion  of  the  original  gives  no  rational  meaning,  and  as  thcicmen- 
dations  of  the  commentators  are  not  much  happier,  I  have  hazarded  a  conjectural  explanation 

L  as 


74  THE    POETIC  Chap,  x.viv. 

confequences  always  follow,  or  accompany  certain  events,  that  when 
thofe  confequences  happen,  thofe  caufes  muft  have  happened  alfo ;  and 
here  lies  the  fallacy ;  the  firft  propofition  may  be  falfe,  though  if  it 
were  otherwife  the  event  is  fuch  as  might  naturally  produce  thofe  con- 
fequences ;  knowing  therefore  the  confequences  to  be  confiftcnt  with 
general  truth,  the  mind,  reafoning  falfely,  fuppofes  the  caufe  to  be  true 
like  wife.)  He  [l]  teaches  us  therefore  to  prefer  impoffible  circumflances, 
if  they  are  probable,  to  polTible  ones  that  are  improbable,  and  by  no 
means  to  form  the  fable  itfelf  of  parts  that  are  abfurdly  incredible,  but 
to  try  as  much  as  poflible  to  admit  nothing  of  the  kind ;  but  if  it  can- 
not be  avoided,  they  {hould  at  leaft  be  confined  to  circumflances  out  of 
the  aftion  itfelf,  as  in  the  cafe  of  CEdipus  being  ignorant  of  the  manner 
of  Laius's  death,  and  not  be  included  in  the  drama,  like  the  account  of  the 
Pythian  games  in  the  tragedy  of  Eledra  [m],  or  the  man  in  the  tragedy 
of  the  Myfians,  who  comes  from  Tegea  to  Myfia  without  fpeaking. 
It  is  ridiculous  to  fay  that  otherwife  the  fables  would  be  deftroyed,  for 

as  like  the  mutilated  Greek  as  I  was  able  to  make  it,  and  as  conformable  to  my  gene- 
ral idea  of  the  context,  which  the  reader  will  admit  or  reje«5l  at  his  pleafure.  See  the 
commentary. 

[l]  npoxipii<T^a.i  and  ^«  ^vvifxaS'xi  I  conceive  to  be  governed  by  "Ojuij^of  SiilSof^t, 
If  what  I  have  thrown  into  a  parenthefis  be  confidered  as  a  note,  and  is  omitted  in  the  readin<^, 
nfo«if£~<r9ai  T£  x.T.  X.  follows  SiSISxy^t  ']j£vSn  xiyetv  u;  hTj  naturally,  almoft  without  the 
intervention  of  a  comma. 

[m]  Dacier  fuppofes  the  abfurdity  here  to  arife  from  the  anachronifm,  as  the  Pythian  games 
were  inftituted  feveral  centuries  after  the  death  of  Oreftes.  Brumoy  afcribes  it  to  the  im- 
probability of  Clytemneftra's  not  being  acquainted  previoudy  to  the  information  then  given 
her,  with  the  truth  or  falfhood  of  an  event  in  which  {he  was  fo  nearly  interefted  as  the  death 
of  Greftes,  and  which  is  faid  to  have  happened  before  fo  many  fpedators. 


fuch 


Chap.xxiv.  of    ARISTOTLE.  j^ 

fuch  fables  fliould  not  at  firfl:  be  formed ;  but  if  they  are  fo  formed,  it 
feems  moft  reafonable  to  hide  the  abfurdity  as  much  as  poffible.  The 
improbabilities  in  the  Odyfley,  (fuch,  for  inftance,  as  the  account  of 
UlyfTes  being  caft  on  fliore,)  would  have  been  intolerable,  if  they  had 
been  written  by  an  indifferent  poet ;  but  there  the  poet  entirely  conceals 
the  abfurdity  by  other  pleafing  circumftances  [n]. 

The  language  ought  particularly  to  be  laboured  in  thofe  uninterefling 
[o]  parts  which  are  deftitute  of  manners  and  fentiment,  for  the  manners 
and  fentiments  are  only  obfcured  by  too  fplendid  a  didion. 

[n]  I  have  endeavoured  to  give  the  beft  interpretation  I  could  of  this  palTagc,  reading 
iyJiy(i<T^xt  for  hS'i-^i(y^xii  as  propofed  by  Winftanley,  and  oiqixii^u  for  iiJ-tpaii^^H^  with 
V'ittorio. 

[o]  The  connedive  parts  of  the  poem,  where  the  poet  fpeaks  in  his  own  perfon. 


L  2  CHAP. 


76  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xxv. 


CHAP.      XXV. 

OF    OBJECTIONS,    AND    HOW    THEY    MAY    BE    ANSWERED. 

J\S  for  the  objedlions  of  criticifm  and  their  proper  anfwers,  we  fhall 
clearly  perceive  both  the  number  and  quality  of  their  forms  by  confi- 
dering  them  in  this  manner. 

The  poet  being  an  imitator  equally  with  a  portrait  painter,  or  any 
other  artift  who  forms  likeneffes,  it  is  evident  he  muft  chufe  one  out  of 
thefe  three  modes  of  imitation  :  he  mufl  either  draw  things  as  they 
were  or  are,  or  as  they  are  faid  or  imagined  to  be,  or  as  they  ought  to 
be.  And  he  muft  form  thefe  imitations  either  by  plain  language,  or  by 
foreign  words  and  metaphors.  For  there  are  many  peculiar  properties 
incident  to  language  which  we  concede  to  the  poets. 

Neither  is  the  propriety  of  poetry  the  fame  with  that  of  the  political 
or  any  other  art.  There  are  two  forts  of  error  to  which  poetry  is  liable, 
one  relating  effentially  to  itfelf,  the  other  arifing  from  accident.  If  a 
pqet  attempt  an  imitation  which  he  has  not  ability  to  execute,  the 
fault  is  effential ;  but  if  the  objedl  of  imitation  fliould  happen  to  be 
improperly  chofen,  the  fault  will  be  only  accidental ;  as  for  inftance,  if 
a  horfe  fhould  be  drawn  or  defcribed  as  moving  both  his  right  legs  toge- 
ther ;  or  if,  from  want  of  knowledge  in  any  particular  art,  as  phyfic  or 
any  other,  he  Hiould  introduce  things  that  are  impoffible.  Whatever 
thefe  may  be,  they  will  not  be  effential  errors  of  the  poetry. 


It 


Chap.  XXV,  OF    ARISTOTLE.  j-j 

It  is  from  the  confideration  of  thefe  circumflances  that  the  obje<flior.s 
of  criticiim  fliould  be  anhvered. 


Firifl:,  then,  the  poet  errs,  if  what  he  writes  is  impoffible  according 
to  the  rules  of  the  art  he  treats  of  j  but  he  may  be  excufed,  if  the  true 
end  of  poetry  is  attained  by  it,  if  he  renders  that,  or  any  other  part  of 
the  poem  more  interefting,  as  in  the  purfuit  of  Hedtor  [a].  Yet,  if  this 
end  can  be  obtained  in  a  greater,  or  even  a  lefs  degree,  without  deviating 
from  the  rules  of  the  particular  art  he  is  treating  of[B],  the  fault  would 
be  without  excufe  ;  for  errors  fhould  be  entirely  avoided,  if  poflible. 
We  ought  particularly  to  examine  if  the  error  is  effential  to  the  poetic 
art  or  only  accidental.  For  it  is  certainly  a  lefs  effential  fault  to  be 
ignorant  that  a  hind  has  no  horns,  than  to  make  a  bad  imitation  of  one  [c]. 

If  a  poet  is  further  blamed  for  not  defcribing  things  according  to  truths 
he  may  fay  he  defcribes  them  as  they  ought  to  be.  Like  Sophocles, 
who  faid  he  drew  the  charadlers  of  men  as  they  ought  to  be,  and  Euri- 
pides as  they  really  were.     Such  is  the  proper  anfwer  to  this  objedion. 

[aJ  See  chapter  xxi v. 

[b]  So  Batteux,  Ordonez,  and  Segni,  making  a  flop  after  riyyy[v.  Goulfton  fays,  <  Diftin- 
*  gue  poft  ))jaafl»7a(,  non  poft  ^iyj'i\y ;'  which  gives  a  difFerent,  and,  in  my  opinion,  not  (b 
good  a  meaning. 

[cl  To  paint  it  ill  though  properly  as  to  its  nature.  Batteux  has  tranflated  this, '  qued'avoir 
'  mal  peint  une  biche  avec  des  comes :'  which  muft  be  a  miftake  arifing  from  inadvertency, 
as  this  would  deftroy  the  oppofition,  the  laft  example  incurring  the  blame  both  of  ignorance  and 
bad  execution. 


But 


78  THE    POETIC  ^hap.  xx^. 

But  if  it  does  not  come  under  eitherof  thefedefcriptions,  hemay  fay  it 
is  according  to  received  opinion,  as  in  what  relates  to  the  gods.  For  the 
things  we  fay  of  them  may  neither  be  better  than  they  really  are,  nor 
according  to  truth;  fince,  as  Xenophanes  obferves,  *  in  thefe  [d]  things 
*  there  is  nothing  evident.'  Or,  if  the  objedtion  cannot  be  anfwered  by 
faying  it  is  better  than  the  common  opinion,  perhaps  it  may  be  faid  that 
the  fa<5l  was  adlually  fo  at  that  time,  as  in  this  inftance  : 

*  A  wood  of  fpears  flood  by,  that  fix'd  upright, 

*  Shot  from  their  flashing  points  a  quivering  light.'  Il  .  x. 

for  fuch  was  then  the  ufual  order  of  placing  them,  as  it  is  now  among 
the  Illyrians. 

In  examining  whether  a  thing  is  either  faid  or  done,  properly  or  im- 
properly, we  are  not  only  to  regard  whether  the  thing  itfelf  is  good  or 
bad,  but  we  muft  confider  the  charafter  of  the  adlor  or  fpeaker,  as  well 
as  concerning  whom,  and  to  whom,  and  for  what  caufe,  he  fpeaks  or 
ads ;  as,  for  example,  if  it  would  be  a  greater  advantage  to  receive  it,  or 
a  greater  difadvantage  to  omit  it. 

Some  objedlions  may  be  anfwered  by  recurring  to  the  various  properties 
of  language.     The  word  may  be  foreign  as  in  this  paflage  of  Homer> 

[e]  *  On  mules  the  infedlion  firfl  began,'         Ll.  i. 

[d]  Ou  aocipv  rxSe.  ViTTORio,  as  alfo  Heinsius,  who  quotes  the  lines  of  Xenophanes, 
which  begin, 

ai  TO  [jLty  ovv  ffx^a  stij  avrio  tdiv, 

[«]  The  objedUon  muft  be,  that,  as  the  Greeks  came  by  fea,  they  could  not  vi'ant  mules. 

where 


Chap.  xxT.  O  F  '  Il^PsVoTL^E.  79 

where  perhaps  ovprioii  does  not  fignify  mules  but  centinels.  And  in  this 
where  he  fays  of  Dolon  ET^og  f^lv  etiv  KXKog,  *  Bad  was  his  formj*  II.  x.  it 
may  be  anfwered,  that  eT^og  xocKog  may  not  mean  a  deformed  body,  but  an 
ugly  [f]  countenance  J  for  the  Cretans  call  a  perfon  with  a  handfome 
lace  eveiSi];.     And  io  or 

*  Now  fill  with  livelier  [g]  wine  the  mantling  bowl :'       II.  ix. 

where  the  word  '  livelier'  may  not  mean  lefs  diluted  with  water  for  the 
purpofe  of  intemperance,  but  wine  filled  haftily^^iu  iUc 

Or  the  expreflions  may  be  confidered  as  metaphorical.     So  in  this 
Sentence 

*  The  other  gods  and  men  in  fleep  profound 

*  All  night  were  wrapp'd:' II.  ii.  [h] 

[f]  Pope,  therefore,  renders  it, 

*  Not  blefs'd  by  nature  with  the  charms  of  face.' 

fc]  Zuporcftxv  Si  yitpoctpc.     *  Qiiidam  etiam  quafi  ^umpsi  di£him  voluerunt  ut  TIVACIOR. 
'  potus.* — Steph.  Thes. 

[h]  The  other  examples  which  precede  this  illuftration,  viz. 

and 

1  have  omitted,  as  no  notice  is  taken  of  either  of  them  in  the  text.  But  the  other  line  is  ma- 
nifeftly  alluded  to,  viz.  w«kvu;^ioi  for  to  ttKus-ov  fAtpof  tJs  uujcjof.  I  think  the  whole  paiTagc 
is  corrupted,  and  that  the  example  of  wai'H;;^ioi  fliould  be  taken  from  the  beginning  of  II.  x. 
where  the  next  quotations  foon  follow ;  efpecially  as,  in  a  MS.  in  the  library  at  Paris,  No. 
1 741,  in  all  the  Medicean  Mss,  and  the  tranflation  of  Valla,  after  xran-up^io*,  inftead  of  x«» 
we  have  «/*«  ^i  ^lo^i*.  '-^'  tiJUJjj^Jj  :■■. 

For 


8o  THEPOETIC  «hap.  xxv. 

For  ALL  is  often  ufed  metaphorically  for  many,  all  being  fuppofed  to 
imply  fome  large  number.     Or  iis 

[i]   '   Orion,  fole  of  all  the  flarry  train, 

*  Ne'er  bathes  his  blazing  forehead  in  the  main  :'      II.  xviii. 

where  Orion  is  called  the  sole  by  a  metaphor,  becaufe  he  is  the  mofl- 
known  and  confpicuous. 

Sometimes  the  objecTHpn  may  be  anfwered  by  attending  to  the  accent, 
as  the  difficulties  in  the  following  paflage  are  folved  by  Hippias  the 
Thafian.  Ai^of^sv  ^e  ol  [k]  will  imply  a  promife;  but  change  the  accent 
from  the  antepenult  to  the  penult,  and  SiSof/,ev  will  only  be  an  order  to 
the  dream  to  give  hope.  And  to  f^tlv  S  KulxTruQsjoit  ofiCpM,  with  the  cir- 
cumflex on  the  cu,  will  have  the  abfurd  fignification  of  '  dry  wood  rotted 

*  by  the  rain;'  but  remove  the  circumflex  [l],  and  it  will  be,  '  which 

*  was  not  rotted  by  the  rain  [m]/ 

[i]  Though  Pope  (whom  I  quote  when  he  does  not  deviate  too  widely  from  the  original) 
has  a  long  note  on  this  obfervation  of  Ariftotle,  he  has  taken  no  notice  of  sin  in  his  tranflation,, 
on  which  account  1  have  been  obliged  to  alter  it, 

[k]  This  alludes  to  the  order  given  by  Jupiter  to  the  dream  in  II.  ii.  to  deceive  Agamem- 
non. The  line  is  not  extant.  I  have  been  obliged  to  paraphrafe  this  paragraph  to  make  it  at  all 
intelligible. 

[l]  Aiyovlig  TO  a  o^irt^ov.  Ariftot.  DE  SoPHiST.  Elench.  L.  I.  Ch.  IV.  fpeaking  of 
this  identical  circumftance. 

f  mJ  —  '  Of  fome  ftately  oak  the  laft  remains, 
*  Or  hardy  fir,  unperifli'd  by  the  rains.' 

Pope,  Ii.  xxrii, 

Objedionp 


Chap.  xxv.  OFARISTOTLE,  8k 

Objed:ions  may  be  confuted  by  the  divilion  of  the  fentence ;  as  in  this 
inftance, 

[n]  '  Mortal  were  now,  what  eril  immortal  were ; 

*  Mix'd,  what  were  pure.' 

Or  by  ambiguous  expreffions  ;  as  in  this  pafTage  of  Empedocles, 

[oj  — '  Now  of  two  parts  the  night  had  wan'd 

*  The  larger  fhare,  but  yet  a  third  remain'd  :'  II.  x. 

where  the  word  larger  is  ambiguous.  Or  by  the  eftablifhed  cuftom  of 
fpeech ;  as  the  word  Kix^x[x,svov  [v],  mixed,  is  ufed  for  wine,  on  this 
principle  the  poet  writes, 

[n]  Ai'4'«  ^i  fluir'  i<()uov]o,  rx  zr^iv  [ax^ov  oc^xi/xt  £iVai, 
Zupx  re  ■srfi>,   aex^iro 

The  fenfe  of  this  depends  on  the  pundtuation :  by  putting  the  comma  after  ^wf «  inftead  of 

■sTf  IV,  in  the  fecond  line,  the  meaning  of  it  is  exactly  reverfed,  and  will  be,  '  Thofe  things 
'  became  pure,  which  before  were  mixed.' 

[o]  The  larger  part  of  two  thirds  of  the  night,  not  a  part  larger  than  two  thirds ;  for  then 
another  third  could  not  have  been  left, 

— —  -Brx^co^riytiii  Si  uXitiiv  vO^ 
Tuv  Svo  fAOi^xuv,   TPildrn  $'  m  jwolf «  XiXcii/lxi. 

Of  which  Arlftotle  judged  it  fufficient  to  quote  the  firft  part  only,  where  there  is  really  no 
ambiguity. 

[p]  So  in  Hebrew  the  participle  ']'DQt2,  mixed,  is  ufed  for  wine.  The  ancients  feldom 
drank  wine  unmixed.  In  a  preceding  example,  Homer  was  not  blamed  for  making  his  heroes 
intemperate  by  drinking,  wine  {wjov,  abfolutely  pure,  but  ^u^ire^ov,  purer  thanufual. 

M.  , —  <  Greaves 


82  THE    POETIC  Chap.xxv. 

—  *  Greaves  of  newly  plated  tinj'         II,  xxi  [qJ. 
and  artificers  in  fteel  are  called  braziers,  and  Ganymede  is  faid 

— —  '  To  pour  the  wine  to  Jove  :'  II.  xx. 

though  the  gods  are  not  fuppofed  to  drink  wine.  But  this  may  be 
confidered  as  metaphorical.  It  is  right  alfo,  when  a  word  feems  to  be 
capable  of  giving  contrary  fenfes,  to  examine  how  many  fignifications  it 
may  have  in  the  pafTage  before  us ;  as  in  thefe  lines  of  Homer : 

*  Five  plates  of  various  metal,  various  mould,  -^ 

*  Compos'd  the  fhield,  of  brafs  each  outward  fold,  y 

*  Of  tin  each  inward,  and  the  middle  gold ;  J 

*  There  ftuck  the  lance  :' II.  xx. 

where  the  fenfe  of  the  word  stuck  mufl  be  that  the  lance  was  flopped' 
by  the  golden  plate.  For  [r]  in  confidering  the  number  of  meanings  the 
word  may  have  here,  the  mofl  natural  will  be,  that  it  flopped  without 
penetrating. 

We  may  alfo  anfwer  objecftions  in  the  words  of  Glauco,  who 
iays,  *  That  fome  men  taking  up  an  opinion  haflily,  and  then  reafoning 

*  from  prejudice  in  favour  of  that  opinion,  will  blame  any  thing  that  is 

[q^]  Inftead  of  brafs.  The  brafs  of  the  ancients  is  faid  to  have  been  made  of  copper  with, 
a  mixture  of  tin  inftead  of  zinc 

[r]  I  have  followed  Batteux  here,  whofe  emendation  and  interpretation  of  this  pafliige  I 
think  excellent.  He  reads  ■stoXXxku;  for  wocraxco;.  Though,  if  inftead  of  ivSi)(i\i)i,i  we  read 
h.S^-x/\«.i,  the  paflage  may  be  rendered,  '  The  ambiguity  arifing  from  the  different  meanings  of 

*  the  fame  word  may  be  removed  thus ;  if  any  one  fliould  contend  that  the  fpear  penetrated  to 
'  the  oppofite  fide,'  (what  follows  will  then  be  conne<Sed  with  tTria-xoTrEU'  ■zs-oo'axwf  civ  c-nfj-v- 

VHi  Tcvro  iv  TM  il^ni^hu!, ?  wf  Txciuxui/  xiya  x.  t.  A.)   '  either  the  word  may  bear  fe- 

'  veral  meanings,  or  the  objcilor  may  be  under  a  miftake.' 

*  contrary 


Chap.  XXV.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  83 

*  contrary  to  what  they  have  prefuppofed.'  This  is  Vi^hat  happened 
concerning  Icarius[s];  for,  conceiving  him  to  be  a  Laconian,  it  has 
been  thought  abfurd  that  Telemachus  fliould  not  meet  him  when  he 
went  to  Lacedaemon  :  while,  perhaps,  the  poet  follows  the  opinion  of 
the  Cephalonians,  who  aflert  that  Ulyffes  married  among  thein,  and  that 
Icadius,  and  not  Icarius,  was  the  name  of  his  father-in-law.  This  ob- 
jedtion,  therefore  arifes  probably  from  a  miftake. 

The  impoffible  fliould  be  confidered  as  conducing,  on  the  whole, 
either  to  the  end  which  it  is  the  aim  of  poetry  to  attain,  or  to  excellence 
of  character,  or  as  being  agreeable  to  received  opinion.  For,  as  to  the 
chief  end  of  poetry,  it  is  better  to  chufe  probable  impoffibllity,  than  im- 
probable poflibility.  And  [t]  as  to  excellence  of  character,  it  may  be 
proper,  as  in  the  paintings  of  Zeuxis,  to  give  examples  of  perfedion. 
And  as  to  the  feeming  abfurdities  that  are  received  from  common  opinion, 
they  may  not,  perhaps,  be  contrary  to  reafon ;  for  many  improbable 
€vents  may  have  really  happened. 

As  to  the  way  in  which  contradidions  may  be  excufed,  they  fliould 
be  confidered  in  the  fame  light  as  confutations  in  an  argument.  We 
fhould  obferve  if  the  fame  thing  is  fpoken  of,  or  to  the  fame  perfon,  or 
in  the  fame  manner,  if  the  perfon  fpeaks  in  his  own  perfon,  and  con- 
cerning what  things,  and  [u]  whether  he  that  may  be  delivering  his 

opinion 


[s]  The  father  of   Penelope.     This  alludes  to  the  journey  of  Telemachus  to   Sparta. 

Od.  IV. 

Ft]  Winftanley's  tranfporition  of  this  palTage,  which  I  have  implicitly  followed,  has  cleared 
up  every  difficulty,  and  rendered  the  antithefis  complete. 

[u]   H  0  ai/  ippow'jw.0?  uVoS'/iTai.      This  has  been  generally  rendered,  ♦  If  it  is  what  a  fen- 
'  fible  man  might  lay  down  as  his  opinion.'     But  this  does  not  feem  agreeable  with  what  goes 

M  2  before. 


84  THE    POETIC  Chap.  xxv. 

opinion  Is  a  fenfible  man.  The  reprehenfions  of  impiety  and  abfurdity  will 
indeed  be  juft,  when  they  are  introduced  without  neceffity.  Neither 
fhould  abfurdity  be  employed,  as  it  is  by  Euripides  in  his  Egeus  [x] ;  or 
impiety,  as  in  the  charader  of  Menelaus,  in  his  Orefles. 

The  objeftions  of  criticifm  may  then  be  reduced  to  thefe  five  fpecies  : 
the  impoflible,  the  abfurd,  the  hurtful,  the  contradidlory,  and  the  errors 
againft  the  rules  of  the  art.  The  anfwers  to  thefe  objedlions  may  be 
coUedled  from  what  we  have  faid,  and  they  are  twelve  [y]  in  number. 

before.  Ariftode  fpeaks  of  excufing  contradiftions,  and  fays  the  circumftances  of  the  fpeaker, 
and  the  things  fpoken  of,  &c.  fliould  be  confidered.  But  whether  the  things  are,  or  are  not, 
•what  a  fenfible  man  might  fay,  can  only  relate  to  the  things  themfelves  that  are  faid,  and  not 
to  any  circumftances  attending  the  faying  of  them,  or  the  things  they  may  have  reference  to» 
If  a  fentiment  is  fuch  as  a  fenfible  man  may  deliver,  it  will  want  no  excufe,  as  no  blame  can  be 
incurred.  And,  by  faying  it  is  what  a  fenfible  man  ought  not  to  deliver,  the  fault,  indeed,  is 
pointed  out,  but  no  excufe  made,  which  is  here  the  exprefs  defign  of  Ariftotle.  His  meaning 
muft  certainly  be,  that,  before  an  abfurdity  is  blamed,  the  character  of  the  perfon  who  utters 
it  Ihould  be  confidered;  and  adds  afterwards,,  but  when  the  character  of  the  fpeaker  does  not 
render  the  abfurdity  neceffary,  as  in  the  cafe  of  Egeus,  the  fault  is  inexcufable.  I  would, 
therefore,  tranfpofe  the  words  thus :  n  o  di/  vVofijiVai,  pptujuoj ;  which  I  have  ventured  to 
adopt  in  the  tranflation,  as  it  agrees  with  the  other  reafons  of  excufe. 

[x]  See  Winftanley's  note  on  this  paflage. 

[y]  I.  If  the  poem  is  made  more  interefting.  II.  If  the  poet  errs  from  ignorance  in  any- 
particular  art.  III.  If,  inftead  of  defcribing  things  as  they  are,  he  defcribes  them  as  they 
ought  to  be.  IV.  Or  according  to  received  opinion.  V.  Or  as  they  aftually  were  at  the 
time  the  events  are  fuppofed  to  have  happened.  VI.  Or  according  to  the  circumftances  of  time 
and  place,  and  the  charadcr  of  the  fpeaker  or  aftor.  VII.  Or  by  the  ufe  of  foreign  words. 
VIII.  Or  by  metaphors.  IX.  Or  by  the  accent.  X.  Or  by  the  divifion  of  the  fentence, 
j.  e.  the  punduation.  XI.  Or  by  the  different  and  ambiguous  meanings  a  word  may  have. 
XII.  Or  by  the  error  of  the  objcdor,  who  firft  takes  up  an  opinion  without  foundation,  and 
then  blames  the  poet  for  faying  what  may  not  agree  with  that  opinion. 

CHAP. 


Chap.  XXVI.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  85 


CHAP.      XXVI. 

TRAGIC    IMITATION    AND  EPIC  COMPARED. PREFERENCE   GIVEN 

TO  TRAGEDY. — CONCLUSION. 

It  may  now,  perhaps,  be  afked,  whether  tragic  or  epic  imitation  is 
the  moft  excellent  [a].  If  the  imitation  is  to  be  preferred  which  is  leaft 
adapted  to  the  vulgar  [b]  and  moft  calculated  to  pleafe  the  politeft  fpec- 
tators,  that  which  imitates  every  [c]  thing  is  clearly  moft  adapted  to  the 
vulgar,  as  not  being  intelligible  without  the  addition  of  much  movement 
and  [d]  adtion.  As  bad  players  on  the  flute  turn  round,  if  they  would 
imitate  the  motion  of  a  dil'cus.  Or,  when  they  perform  the  part  of 
Scylla,  are  obliged  to  pull  [e]  the  leader  of  the  chorus.  Now,  the  fame 
cenfure  that  the  older  a(5lors  caft  on  the  modern  ones,  may,  according 

[a]  BsX^lo^  Mss. 

[b]  HtIov  ipoolijcr.  So  Ariftophanes,  KujAuSioc  (pofixr;  :  <■  comoedia  inepta,  infulfa.'  See, 
a]fo,  Ariftot.  Polit.  1.  viii.  chapter  vi.     Segni  renders  it  vile:  '  ha  manco  del  vile.' 

[c]  Not  only  imitates  actions,  taken  in  a  dramatic  fenfe,  but  (hapes,  motions,  &c.  Goulfton 
tranflates  it  '  earn  quae  omnimodo  (numeroet  harmonia)  imitatur,' taking  ocTrcxiHtx.  adverbially. 

[d]  The  words  oin  //.ri  (xCto;  -B-^oa-^n  have  occalioned  much  difficulty.  Toup  propofes  to 
read  ai'  /a'-i  auAo?  tn-f  oo-jj,  as  if  the  w^hole  efFeft  was  to  depend  on  the  accompaniment.  But 
how  will  this  agree  with  the  fubfequent  comparifon  of  the  bad  flute  player  ufing  aiSion  to  make 
hlmfelf  underftood  ?  I  would  rather  read  av  {Ari  «uT6f  Wf  s<r«,  and  fuppofe  ctuVs?  to  mean  the 
adlor:  <  unlefs  (the  adlor)  himfelf  appeared.' 

[e]  To  imitate  the  drawing  of  the  fliips. 

to 


86  THE    POETIC  Chap,  xxvi, 

[f]  to  tlie  judgment  of  its  enemies,  be  applied  to  tragedy.  For  Minifcus 
called  Callipides  a  monkey  for  carr)ang  his  adlion  too  far.  And  the  fame 
opinion  was  entertained  of  Pindarus.  Tragedy,  therefore,  with  all  its 
requifites,  they  fay,  has  the  ilime  relation  to  the  epopee,  that  the  modern 
acftors  have  to  the  older  ones,  and  that  the  epopee  is  calculated  for  politer 
perfons  who  do  not  require  the  addition  of  aftion  and  fcenery.  But  tra- 
gedy, for  meaner  perfons,  being  more  adapted  to  the  vulgar,  and  confe- 
quently  inferior. 

But,  in  the  firft  place,  this  accufation  does  not  affed  the  poet,  but 
the  adtor.  And,  befides,  it  is  poflible  to  ufe  too  much  adlion  in  reciting 
epic  poetry,  as  was  pradlifed  by  Sofiftratus,  and  even  in  finging,  as  was 
done  byMnaftheus  of  Opus.  Neither  is  all  adtion  to  be  defpifed,  any 
more  than  all  kinds  of  dancing,  but  only  that  which  is  bad.  So  Callipides 
was  blamed,  as  fome  no\v  are,  for  imitating  women  of  bad  characfler. 
Tragedy,  alfo,  as  well  as  the  epopee,  may  attain  its  end  without  repre- 
fentation,  for  we  can  judge  of  its  merit  by  reading  only  :  therefore,  if  it 
is  better  in  other  refpedts,  no  objedlion  can  be  raifed  from  the  reprefen- 
tation,  fince  that  is  not  abfolutely  neceflary. 

Tragedy,  then,  has  every  requifite  in  common  with  the  epopee,  (fmce 
it  may  equally  ufe  verfe,)  [g]  with  the  additional  ornaments  of  mufic  and 

fcenery, 

[f]  1  have  added  this  to  make  the  fenfe  cIc^p,  as  Ariftotle  obvioufly  ftatcs  this  objedion  for 
the  purpofe  of  confuting  it. 

[g]  'E^ffi  ^firi<r5tx.i :  '  may  ufe  (employ)  its  own  iambic  verfc,  to  attain  its  end  without 
*  the  afljftance  of  mufic  and  aftion.'  Mr.  Winftanley  is  of  opinion  that  if  its  own  iambic 
verfe  had  been  meant,  it  fliould  have  been  )(jir,Ta,i.     But  if  hexameter  verfe  is  meant  here  by 


Chap.  XXVI.  OF    ARISTOTLE.  87 

fcenery,  which  are  no  fmall  parts  of  its  compofition,  and  which  render 
the  pleafure  it  excites  more  ftriking.  It  is,  therefore,  affefting,  both 
when  it  is  read  [h]  and  afted.  And  it  poffeffes  another  advantage,  in 
confining  the  a<5lion  by  which  the  end  of  the  imitation  is  attained  within 
a  narrower  compafs.  For,  being,  as  it  were,  condenfed,  it  becomes 
more  interefting  than  if  it  were  protradled  through  a  longer  fucceffion  of 
time.  What  would  be  the  effed,  for  example,  if  the  CEdipus  of  So- 
phocles were  to  be  put  into  as  many  verfes  as  the  Iliad  ?  It  may  further 
be  added,  that  the  epic  imitation  has  lefs  unity,  fmce  there  is  no  epic 
poem  that  cannot  furnifli  fubjedls  for  feveral  [i]  tragedies.  For  fliould 
the  fable  be  confined  to  one  ailion,  it  would  either  appear  trifling  from 
its  fhortnefs,  or,  if  it  were  fpun  out  to  the  ufual  length  of  the  epopee  [k] 
It  would  be  languid  and  infipid.  But  if  it  is  variegated,  I  mean  com- 
pounded of  various  adlions,  it  muft  be  deficient  in  point  of  unity.  Even 
the  Iliad  and  OdylTey  contain  many  parts,  each  of  which  has  in  itfelf  a 

Tw  jtAETpM,  Ariftotle  argues  very  unlike  himfelf,  by  contending  for  the  fuperiority  of  tragedy, 
not  from  what  it  was,  but  from  what  it  might  be  made;  not  only  contrary  to  the  iiniverfal 
praftice  of  the  Grecian  theatie,  but  to  the  directions  of  nature  herfelf,  who,  he  fays,  in  chapter 
iv.  pointed  out  the  iambic  as  the  proper  verfe  for  the  drama.     See  the  Commentary. 

[hJ  Certainly,  I  think,  a.vxy]iu(y6i,  and  not  anzyi/wpio-f*. 

[i]  Ariftotle  fays,  chapter  xxiii.  '  That  the  Iliad  and  OdyfTey  would  only  produce  one,  or 
'  at  moft,  two  tragedies  each.'  This  feems  a  contradiftion.  But,  perhaps,  the  obje£tion  may 
be  anfwered  by  one  of  the  methods  propofed  in  the  preceding  chapter.  We  muft  examine  if  it  is 
TO  airo,  <  the  fame  thing,'  that  is  fpoken  of.  There,  I  imagine,  Ariftotle  fpoke  of  the  funple 
argument  of  the  poem,  and  here  he  confiders  it  as  adorned  and  augmented  by  epifodes. 

[k]  *H  axo>iS9avl«i  Tu  T8  /AETfs  fjt.riK».      It  is  impoflible  Ariftotle  could  mean  to  compare 

the  length  of  a  poem  with  the  length  of  the  verfe  in  which  it  was  written.     He  muft  mean  to 

ufe  the  words  of  Mr.  Twining  (fee  his  note  on  the  place) '  according  to  the  ufual  length  of  poems 

»  written  in  that  metre,' 

confi- 


88  THE    POETIC,    6cc.  Chap,  xxvk 

confiderable  degree  of  bulk,  and  yet  thefe  poems  are  as  much  the  imita- 
tion of  one  adion,  as  the  nature  of  the  compofition  would  admit. 

If  tragedy,  then,  excels  in  all  thefe  circumftances,  as  well  as  in  the 
effed:  which  it  is  the  peculiar  end  of  the  poetic  art  to  attain  -,  (for  nei- 
ther ought  to  produce  an  accidental  pleafure,  but  only  that  which  we  have 
mentioned ;)  it  will  certainly  be  more  excellent  than  the  epopee,  from  at- 
taining the  end  of  the  art  itfelf  more  effedlually. 

And  here  I  fhall  conclude  what  I  had  to  fay  concerning  tragedy,  and 
epic  poetry,  as  to  themfelves,  the  number  and  difference  of  their  fpecies, 
the  caufes  of  their  merits  and  defedts,  the  objections  that  may  be  made  to 
them,  and  the  manner  in  which  thofe  objedions  may  be  anfwered. 


A  COMMENTARY 


COMMENTARY 


ON    THE 


POETIC    OF    ARISTOTLE. 


[     9'      ] 


C  O  ]\I  M  E  N  T  A  R  Y. 


CHAP.      L 

NOTE    I. 

lllE  EPOPEE  AND  TRAGEDY,  AS  ALSO  COMEDY  AND  DITHY- 
RAMBICS,  AND  THE  GREATER  PART  OF  THOSE  COMPOSITIONS 
WHICH  ARE  SET  TO  THE  FLUTE  AND  THE  LYRE,  ALL  AGREE 
IN     THE    GENERAL     CHARACTER    OF     BEING     IMITATIONS. 

JdY  imitation,  Arlftotle  does  not  mean  merely  defcripfion,  but  a  lively 
reprelentation  of  human  adtions,  paffions,  and  manners.  It  would  be 
fuperfluous  to  fay  much  on  a  fubjeft  Vv'hich  has  been  fo  amply  and  clearly 
treated  by  Mr.  Twining,  in  his  *  Diflertation  on  Poetry  confidered  as 
'  an  imitative  art,'  and  to  which  I  refer  fuch  of  my  readers  as  defire 
full  and  fatisfadlory  information  on  this  fubjedl.  Ariftorle,  undoubtedly, 
places  that  fpecies  of  imitation  in  the  lirfh  clafs,  which  is  performed 
by  perfons  adting,  as  in  the  drama,  and,  for  the  moft  part,  in  the 
epopees  of  Homer.  This  appears  from  what  he  fays  of  the  epopee, 
in  the  twenty-fourth  chapter.  *  The  poet  (he  obferves)  (hould  appear 
•  himfelf  as  little  as  poffible,  for  whenever  he  fpeaks  in  his  own  perfon 

N  2  *  he 


92  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  i. 

*  he  ccafes  to  be  an  imitator  -,'  feeming  even  to  contradifl  what  he  had 
l)efore  allowed  in  the  third  chapter,   '  that  the  poet  might  imitate,  either 

*  like  Homer,  fometimes  by  fimple  narration,  and  fometimes  by  afluming 

*  a  different  charafter  J  or  entirely  by  narration,  without  affuming  any 

*  charadler.'  It  may  perhaps  be  impoffible  ftridly  to  reconcile  this  dif- 
ference of  opinion,  but  it  obvioufly  Ihews  the  great  preference  he  gave 
perfonal  imitation  to  any  other,  from  which  arofe  his  ftrong  prediledlion 
for  tragedy  -,  and  I  think  we  may  fairly  deduce  from  it,  that  even  the 
poet  whofe  imitation  is  folely  narrative,  muft  paint  in  ftrong  colours  the 
effedls  of  adlion,  paffions  and  manners,  and  not  merely  relate  a  fable 
though  fidlitious,  like  an  hillorian,  for  the  purpofe  of  drawing  moral 
refledtions  from  it. 

Thofe  paffages,  neverthelefs,  of  an  epic  poem,  where  the  poet  fpeaks 
in  his  own  perfon,  have  great  beauty  from  their  contraft  with  the  im- 
paffioned  parts,  and  the  relief  they  give  the  mind,  provided  they  are 
neither  too  frequent  nor  too  long,  and  the  rule  laid  down  by  Ariftotle, 
in  his  twenty-fourth  chapter,  concerning  the  elegance  of  the  verification 
ije  carefully  obferved.  Mr.  Twining  quotes  a  beautiful  example  from 
the  firft  /Eneid. 

*  Urbs  antiqua  fult,  (Tyrii  tenuere  coloni,) 
'  Carthago,  Italiam  contra  Tiberinaque  longe 
'  Oflia .• 

Innumerable  inftances  may  be  produced  from  Milton;  as  the  de- 
fcription  of  evening  and  of  paradife,  in  the  fourth  book  of  Paradife 
Loft  J  in  this  he  is  fuperior  to  any  poet  ancient  or  modern,  though 
i:hsre  are  many  ftriking  paffages  of  the  fame  kind  in  the  Odyffey. 


The 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  93 

The  modern  invention  of  reciting  a  tale,  by  means  of  an  epiftolary 
correfpondence  between  the  perfons  concerned,  is  a  very  happy  mode 
of  imitation,  uniting  in  fome  meafure  the  different  advantages  of  the 
epopee  and  the  drama.  Perhaps  a  work  of  this  nature,  where  the 
character  and  ftyle  of  all  the  perfons  correfponding,  is  nicely  difcri- 
minated  and  rigidly  obferved,  is  yet  a  delideratum  in^  imitative  com- 
pofition  [a]- 

N  O  T  E      II. 

THERE   ARE   SOME   DANCERS  WHO,    REGULATING   THEIR    GESTURES 
BY  RHYTHM,  CAN   IMITATE  MANNERS,  PASSIONS  AND  ACTIONS. 

THE  dances  of  our  opera  will  afford  proof  of  this.  In  the  dance 
■of  the  Deferter,  I  have  feen  the  fpe(flators  almofl  as  much  affedled  by 
Roffi,  as  by  the  acting  of  Mrs.  Siddons.  This  fubjedl  is  well  illuftrated 
in  an  ingenious  treatife   (written  by  Mr.  Nares,)  entitled.  Remarks 

ON   THE  FAVORITE  BALLET  OF  CuPID   AND  PSYCHE, 


NOTE     III. 
THE    EPOPEE    USES    PLAIN    LANGUAGE,    OR    VERSE. 

MY  own  opinion  of  the  proper  conflrudion  of  this  paffage,  and 
with  what  qualification  it  is  to  be  underftood  as  to  the  regular  epic 
poem  I  have  already  given  in  a  note  on  this  place  in  my  tranflation,  and 

[a]  See  Beattie  on  Fidtion  and  Romance,  page  567, 

oa 


94  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  i. 

on  a  paffage  in  the  lixth  chapter.  But  it  is  impoJTible  to  obferve  the  great 
earneftnefs  with  which  Dacier  and  Metaftafio  fupport  their  oppolite 
opinions,  the  one  zealous  for  the  honor  of  [b]  Telemachus,  and  the 
other  partial  to  the  beautiful  poems  of  Arioflo  and  Taflb,  without  being 
convinced  of  the  neceffity  of  fober  criticifm,  diverting  itfelf  of  all  na- 
tional and  perfonal  partiality. 

And  yet  after  all  it  can  be  of  little  confequence  what  Ariftotle  fays 
on  this  fubjecft,  fince  in  his  time  the  [c]  epopee,  or  the  drama,  un- 
adorned by  verfe,  if  known  at  all,  fo  far  from  having  attained  that 
degree  of  perfedlion  to  which  they  have  been  carried  by  the  moderns, 
were  confidered  as  an  irregular  and  fpurious  kind  of  compolition. 

[b]  a  fellow-countryman  of  Dacier's,  BolTu,  has  fettled  this  ditFerence  of  opinion  by  the 
following  accommodating  hypothefis.     '  But  if  an  epopee  fhould  be  written  in  profe,  would 

*  it  be  an  epic  poem  ?  I  think  not,  becaufe  a  poem  is  a  compofition  in  verfe,  but  neverthe- 
'  lefs  that  does  not  hinder  it  from  being  an  epopee ;  fo  a  tragedy  in  profe  is  not  a  tragic 
'  poem,  but  it  is  flill  a  tragedy.     Thofe  who  have  been  in  doubt  whether  the  Roman 

*  comedy  was  a  poem  have  never  doubted  its  being  comedy.' 

Boflu,  I.  I.  chap.  V.  See  alfo  Beattie  on  Poetry  and  Mufic,  page  295,  and  on  Fable  and 
Romance,  page  518. 

[c]  The  Cyropoedia  of  Xenophon,  though  I  believe  generally  allowed  to  be  not  wholly 
founded  on  truth,  ftill  takes  its  mofl:  prominent  features  from  hiftory,  and  perhaps  does  not 
deviate  much  more  from  fatt  than  the  account  of  Cyrus  given  by  Herodotus,  though  it  has 
more  of  a  poetical  form,  as  there  is  a  manifeft  defign  in  the  arrangement  of  the  circum- 
flances.     It  fecms  to  bear  fome  refemblance  to  the  hiftorical  novels  of  the  prefent  day. 

Strabo,  it  is  true,  mentions  other  writers  of  poetical  profe.  AvV«^T:f  ts  y.iTpoi/,  t  S.X\» 
S\  fuXa'^ai'Tf?,  T«  w6«»!Tt>c«  fuf/y/jaxj"^"   "'    ""^Z"   KaiJ)oioi/   x,   ^ifiy.MSriV  Jt,   Exaraioi',    1.  I, 

*  For  Cadmus  and  Pherecydes  and  Hecataeus  wrote  poetry,  not  confining  themfelves  to  verfe, 
«  but  retaining  its  other  requifites.'  Perhaps,  however,  by  TroiJiTiJca,  in  this  place,  com- 
pofition in  general  is  meant,  fince  Suidas  fays  of  Hecatseus,  D/iwtcs  Ifo^lxv  ut^u;  t^tivfyxfc. 

*  He  fir  ft  wrote  hiftory  in  profe.' 

From 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  A'RISTOTLE.  95 

From  the  examples  here  produced  by  Ariftotle,  I  think  it  obvious  he 
confiders  the  word  epopee,  in  this  place,  according  to  its  etymology,  as 
imitating  by  words  alone,  independent  of  mufical  accompaniment  [d], 
without  the  diftindion  of  profe  and  verfe,  and  not  at  all  as  confined  to 
narrative  imitation.  Neither  is  his  ufe  of  the  word  epopee  afterwards, 
in  its  more  appropriated  fenfe,  any  objeftion  to  the  more  general  mean- 
ing he  gives  it  here,  fmce  fimilar  inflances  may  be  found  in  this  fliort 
treatife,  as  in  the  words  sTTBiffoSiov,  f/srpov,  and  uTrXoog.  See  note  [c]  on 
the  tranilation  of  chapter  xiii.  I  think  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
Ariflotle  would  have  claffed  a  modern  comedy  with  the  drama,  as  being 
a  fpecies  of  dramatic  compofition,  though  deficient  in  the  necefi'ary  re- 
quifites  of  verfe  and  mufical  accompaniment ;  or  with  the  epopee,  as 
he  has  the  mimes  of  Sophron,  and  the  Socratic  dialogues,  as  wanting 
every  character  of  poetry  except  the  efi^ential  one  of  imitation. 

The  confiiruftion  of  the  whole  paflage  has  occafioned  much  differ- 
ence of  opinion  among  the  various  commentators.  As  it  appears 
to  me,  Ariftotle  having  afiTerted  that  the  epopee  ufes  either  plain  Ian- 
guage,  or  verfe  of  different  forts,  as  well  as  the  particular  fpecies  of 
verfe  which  cufi:om,  founded  on  the  nature  of  the  compofition,  had 

[d]  Though  I  profefs  this  to  be  my  opinion,  yet  as  I  by  no  means  am  an  advocate  for 
any  particular  hypothefis  at  the  expence  of  truth,  I  muft  mention  one  objedtion  that  ftrik.es 
me.  If  Ariftotle,  by  Xoyon  xJ/iAojj,  means  profe,  there  appears  to  be  wanting  fomething 
added  to  jtz-fVpoif,  in  this  particular  place,  to  diftinguifh  verfe  unaccompanied  with  mufic, 
as  one  of  the  means  of  imitation  peculiar  to  the  epopee.  The  friends  of  an  hypothefis  to 
be  combated  hereafter,  would  perhaps  fay,  that  by  jw/lpoi?  here,  hexameter  verfe  only  is 
meant,  did  not  the  tsuI^ij  ;j.iyi/va-x  that  immediately  follows,  convey  the  moft  compleat  re- 
futation pf  fuch  »n  appropriated  ufe  of  /astjoc    See  note  11.  on  chapter  xxvi. 

appropriated 


96  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  r.. 

appropriated  to  it,  aware  that  he  was  hazarding  a  paradox,  explains 
himfelf  by  faying,  imitation,  and  not  verfe,  was  the  criterion  of  Poetry; 
and  as  on  one  hand  there  would  be  no  general  name  under  which  imita- 
tions, whether  narrative  or  in  a  dramatic  form,  if  written  in  profe,  or 
an  unufual  kind  of  verfe,  could  be  claiTed,  unlefs  they  were  allowed  to. 
come  under  that  of  the  epopee,  whofe  charafteriilic  it  was  to  imitate 
by  words  alone,  unaffifted  by  mulic  or  reprefentation  ;  fo  on  the  other 
it  was  a  mi  flake  to  fuppofe  that  verfe  alone,  independant  of  imitation,^ 
was  the  efiential  part  of  poetry,  or  that  poets  were  ftyled  elegiac,  or 
epic,  from  writing  in  epic  or  elegiac  meafures,  and  not  from  the  fub- 
jeds  they  chofe,  and  their  manner  of  treating  them. 

Perhaps  the  following  free  paraphrafe  of  the  whole  pafTage  may  more 
plainly  elucidate  my  idea  of  the  reafoning  of  the  critic. 

*  The  epopee  imitates  by  language  alone,  without  the  affiftance  of 

*  mufical  accompaniment  -,  and  that,  either  in  [e]  profe,  or  in  verfe, 
'  which  verfe  may  be  either  of  various  forts  mixed  together,  or  of  one 

*  fort  only,  viz.  hexameter,  as  has  hitherto  been  the  general,  and  almofl 

*  univerfal  pradice.' 

*  I  know  I  am  now  advancing  a  paradox.     But  if  w^e  do  not  admit 

*  certain  compofitions  in  profe  to  be  claffed  under  the  general  name  of 

*  epopee,  what  fliall  we  call  the  mimes  of  Sophron  and  Xenarchus, 

[e]  Mr.  Twining  thinks  it  odd  that  Ariftotle  fliould  mention  profe  firft.  But  it  feems  to 
be  his  ufual  pradlice  to  begin  with  the  worft  mode.  See  his  enumeration  of  the  different 
forms  of  tragic  fable,  chapter  xiv.  and  the  methods  of  difcovery,  chapter  xvi.  Profe  is  the 
greateft  deviation  from  the  proper  form  of  the  regular  epopee,  mixed  verfe  the  next. 

and 


Note  in.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  97 

*  and  the   dialogues  of  Socrates  ?     Fictitious  imitation  of  a^flion,  and 

*  charader,  is  the  eflential  dill:ind:ion  of  poetry,  and  this  they  polfefs  ; 

*  therefore  we  mufl  at  leaft  allow  them  to  be  a  fpecies  of  poetry,  as 

*  pofleffing  its  principal  requifite,  though  divefled  of  verfification, 
'  which  we  acknowledge  to  be  a  great,  and  indeed  a  necellary  ornament; 

*  on  the  fame  principle  as  the  hiftory  of  Herodotus  (fee  chap.  ix.  [f]), 

*  if  written  in  verfe,  would  ftill  be  a  fpecies  of  hiftory,  as  being  defti- 

*  tute  of  the  eflential  charafter  of  poetry,  fiditious  imitation,  though 

*  poffelTing  its  chief  and  peculiar  ornament,  verfification.' 

*  If,  indeed,  we  are  fo  ftridt  as  to  admit  no  fort  of  compofitions  to 

*  be  claffed  with  the  epopee  but  fuch  as  are  regular  epic  poems,  where 

*  fhall  we  place  any  narrative  imitation,  that  might  be  made  in  iambic, 

*  elegiac,  or  any  other  kind  of  verfe,  except  hexameter,  pofTefling  the 
'  eflential  charader  of  poetry,  though  wanting  the  requifite  of  heroic 
'  verfe,  which  we  allow  to  be  mofl  congenial  with  it  ?' 

*  It  may  poffibly  be  faid  in  anfwer,  that  thefe  compofitions  may  be 

*  clafi'ed  according  to  the  ftrudure  of  the  verfe ;  for  cuftom,  it  muft  be 

*  allowed,  has  authorized  fuch  a  diftindion ;  and  we  are  ufcd  to  diftin- 

*  guilh  poets  rather  by  the  form  of  the  verfe  than  the  nature  of  the 

*  imitation,  calling  thofe  elegiac  poets  who  ufe  elegiac  verfe,  and  thofe 

*  epic  poets  who  ufe  heroic  verfe,  without  paying  any  regard  to  the 
'  fubjed  they  write  on.     Nay,  if  a  didadic  eflay,  either  on  phyfic  or 

*  mufic,    is  written  in   verfe,    though  entirely   deftitute  of  fidion   or 

*  imitation,  it  is  ufual  to  call  the  author  a  poetj  yet  certainly  Homer  [g], 

[f]  See  alfo  note  i  on  that  chapter.  [g]  (Virgil  and  Milton.) 

O  ♦  whofe 


98  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  i. 

*  whofe  works  imitate  adlions  and  manners,  can  have  nothing  in  common 
'  with  Empedocles  [h],   except  the  verfe  j  therefore  one  indeed  may 

*  juflly  be  llyled  a  poet,  according  to  the  proper  fenfe  of  the  word,  but 

*  the  other  is  rather  a  naturalifl  than  a  poet.' 

*  The  fame  objedlion  may  be  made  to  my  clafling  compofitions  in 

*  mixed  verfe  with  the  epopee,  and  the  fame  anfwer  may  be  given. 
'  Chasremon  has  written  a  poem,  called  the  Centaur,  in  various  forts 

*  of  verfe  ;  the  work  pofiefles  the  poetic  requifites  of  fidlion  and  imita- 

*  tion  ;  it  is  true  it  is  written  in  a  new  and  an  unufual  form,  and  is  fo 

*  far  faulty,  in  deviating  from  the  proper  compofition  of  the  regular 

*  epopee  [i] ;  but  fliall  the  author  on  this  account  be  denied  the  name 

*  of  poet,  fince  his  work  poflefTes  the  eflential  qualities  of  poetry  ?' 

'  I  think  then  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  my  being  right  as  to  claffing 

*  poetry  according  to  the  imitation  and  not  the  verfe.' 

In  this  concluding  fentence,  in  the  original,  the  critic  fpeaks  a  little 
more  ex  cathedra,  ufmg  the  imperative,  Stcapio-Qu. 

Taking  the  word  epopee  in  this  enlarged  fenfe,  I  fhall,  in  the  courfe 
of  thefe  obfervations,  draw  a  part  of  my  illuftrations  from  fome  of  thofe 
compofitions  which  we  ufually  call  novels,  and  which  Dr.  Beattie  [k] 

[h]  (Lucretius  and  Armftrong).  It  is  true  there  are  parts  of  thefe  writers,  efpecially  the 
former,  which  may  be  clafled  with  poetry  of  the  highefl:  order,  but  thefe  are  epifodic ;  the 
fam.e  thing,  in  fome  degree,  may  be  faid  of  the  hiftorian  and  the  orator. 

[i]  See  note  iii.  chapter  xxiv. 

[k]  Effay  on  Fable  and  Romance,  page  518.     On  Poetry  and  Mufic,  part  i.  ch.  ii.  p.  45. 

obferves. 


Note  in.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  99 

obferves,  may  be  filled  the  comic  or  profe  epopee.  I  do  not  mean  to 
controvert  the  fentence  the  bifliop  of  Worceftcr  has  pronounced  againft 
thefe  writers,  in  his  ElBy  on  the  Idea  of  univerlal  Poetry  (page  153), 
yet  if  the  beft  of  them,  who  cannot  be  fuppofed  to  have  guided  their 
pens  by  the  rules  of  the  Stagirite,  have  in  pradlice,  effentially  conformed 
to  thofe  rules,  it  will  go  far  to  fliew  that  they  do  not  folely  originate 
from  the  caprice  of  the  critic,  or  the  peculiar  cuftoms  of  the  ancients, 
but  are  really  founded  on  truth  and  general  nature. 


O  2  CHAP. 


100  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  n. 


CHAP.      II. 

NOTE      I. 

THE  PERSONS  IMITATED  MUST  EITHER  BE  REPRESENTED  A3 
BETTER  THAN  THOSE  OF  THE  PRESENT  TIME,  OR  WORSE, 
OR     AS    THEY    ACTUALLY    ARE. 

JjY  better,  in  this  place,  as  Mr.  Twining  juftly  obferves,  fuperiority 
in  mental  and  bodily  accomplifhments  is  rather  meant  than  in  moral 
virtues  j  a  diftindion  which  will  be  conlidered  more  at  large  hereafter, 
when  poetical  manners  are  invefligated  and  diftinguiflied  [a].  Even 
Homer  tells  us  his  heroes  were  of  a  nature  fuperior  to  the  degenerate 
race  of  men  in  his  time. 

With  regard  to  modern  compofitions,  this  rule  feems  to  be  obferved 
in  the  following  manner.  In  tragedy  and  the  regular  epopee,  the 
charadiers  are  drawn  better,  or  beyond  the  life:  in  farce,  in  pantomime, 
and  in  the  burlefque  tragedy  and  epopee,  they  are  drawn  worfe  ;  and 
in  the  comic  epopee  or  comedy,  whether  truly  comic,  like  Tom 
Jones  and  the  School  for  Scandal,  or  ferious,  like  Grandifon  and  Cla- 
riffa,    the  School  for   Rakes,  and  the  Gamefter  [b],  as   they  aftually 

are 

[a]  Sec  note  i,  chap.  xv.  See  alfo  Bcattic's  Eflay  on  Poetry  and  Mufic,  part  i.  chap.  iv. 
page  69. 

[b]  It  may  appear  odd  to  clafs  fuch  imitations  as  Clarifla  and  the  Gamefter  with  Comedy; 
bat  fo  they  muft  be,  according  to  the  definition  given  here  by  Ariftotle.     Even  the  Fatal 

Curiofity 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  loi 

are  at  the  time.  Such  charadlers  as  Grandifoa  and  Lovelace,  though 
polTcfllng  virtues  and  vices  beyond  common  life,  and  let  me  add,  out  of 
nature,  are  yet  not  dravv^n  with  manners  difterent  from  thofe  of  the 
prefent  day,  which  cannot  be  faid  of  Macbeth  and  of  Pofthumus,  of 
Hudibras,  and  of  Pierrot.  It  muft  be  obferved,  that  many  of  our  after- 
pieces, though  called  farces,  are  in  reality  fliort  comedies. 

As  a  further  illuftration  of  this,  it  may  be  obferved  that  there  are  few 
tragic  fables,  (taking  tragic  in  its  ufual  fenfe,)  which  may  not  be  ren- 
dered comic  or  burlefque,  by  altering  the  flation  and  manners  of  the 
perfbns.     For  to  ufe  the  words  of  Dr.  Beattie,  '  in  moft  human  cha- 

*  raders  there  are  blemiflies  moral,  intelled:ual,  or  corporeal,  by  augment- 

*  ing  which  to  a  certain  degree  you  may  form  a  comic  chara(3:er,  or  by 

*  raifing  the  virtues,  abilities,  or  external  advantages  of  an  individual,  you 

*  form  epic,  and  tragic  charadlers  [c].' 

This  fubjed  is  alluded  to  with  fome  humour  in  Lloyd's  Prologue  to 
the  Jealous  Wife. 

*  Quarrels,  upbraidings,  jealoufies  and  fpleen, 

•  Grow  too  familiar  in  the  comic  fcene; 

Curiofity  of  Lillo  falls  under  the  fame  circumftance,  though  given  as  a  perfefl:  mode  of  Tra- 
gedy, equal  to  the  CEdipus,  by  a  moft  elegant  Critic,  whom  Mr.  Winftanley  juftly  calls 

*  vir  fi  quis  alius  apirolEXiHwToIo?,'  '  fee  Philological  Enquiries.'     For  a  refutation  of  this 
eulogium  on  the  Fatal  Curiofity,  fee  note  in.  chap.  xiii. 

[c]  Effay  on  Poetry  and  Mufic,  part  i.  chap.  v.  page  120.  See  alfo  the  Effay  on  the 
Dramatic  Charafter  of  FalftafF,  page  158,  and  Phil,  Enquiries,  page  159. 

'  Tinge 


102  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  ii. 

*  Tinge  but  the  language  with  heroic  chime, 

*  'Tis  paffion,  pathos,  charadler  fublime. 

*  What  big  round  words  had  fwell'd  the  pompous  fcene, 

*  A  king  the  hufband,  and  the  wife  a  queen  !' 


NOTE       II. 
*    PARODIES.' 

THE  prefent  ufe  of  this  word  is  ftridly  confonant  with  that  of 
the  ancients,  who  appUed  it  to  the  giving  a  ridiculous  turn  to  paflages  in 
Homer  and  the  tragic  poets.  There  are  many  in  Ariftophanes.  One  of 
the  happieft  modern  inftances  I  know  is  the  parody  of  the  fpeech  of 
Sarpedon  to  Glaucus,  in  the  Rape  of  the  Lock.  See  alfo  the  genealogy 
of  Agamemnon's  fceptre  parodied  in  the  fame  poem.  Canto  v.  ver.  87.. 


CHAP. 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE. 


103 


CHAP.      III. 


NOTE      I. 


THESE,    AS    WE    SAID    AT    FIRST,    ARE    THE    THREE    DIFFERENCES 

OF     IMITATION. 

x\.RISTOTLE,  having  given  examples  of  the  different  circumftances 
by  which  the  varieties  of  imitations  were  diflinguiflied,  proceeds  now 
to  fhew  that  imitations,  differing  from  each  other  in  one  of  thefe  cir- 
cumffances,  may  be  ahke  in  another.  It  is  remarkable  that  he  gives  no 
inftance  of  this  partial  refemblance  arifing  from  the  means  of  imitation 
being  the  fame  ;  which  is  the  more  to  be  regretted  as  fuch  an  inftance 
muft  have  thrown  more  light  on  what  is  faid  of  the  epopee  in  the  fir  ft 
chapter,  and  fliewn  more  particularly  in  what  refpecft  Homer's  poems 
refembled  the  Mimes  of  Sophron  and  Xenarchus,  the  Dialogues  of 
Socrates,  and  the  Hippocentaur  of  Chasremon, 


CHAP. 


104  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  iv. 


CHAP.     IV. 

NOTE      I. 

THOSE  THINGS  WHICH  WE  VIEW  WITH  PAIN  IN  THEMSELVES, 
WE  LIKE  TO  SEE  REPRESENTED  AS  ACCURATELY  AS  POSSIBLE; 
SUCH  AS  THE  FIGURES  OF  THE  MOST  SAVAGE  WILD  BEASTS, 
AND    OF     DEAD    BODIES. 

J.  CANNOT  agree  here  with  Mr.  Twining  in  the  reafon  he  gives  for 
prefering  with  Vittorio  aTi^uD]a.ruv,  to  uypiojaTuv, — *  the  fenfe  of  the  paflage 

*  itfelf : — which  (he  fays)  feems  to  require  inftances  of  mean  and  dif- 

*  gufling  rather  than  of  terrible  objedls  ;'  lince  a  dead  body  with  which 
it  is  joined  certainly  comes  under  the  laft  circumftance,  and  was  a  ufual 
exhibition  in  ancient  tragedy.  For  we  fliould  recoUedl  that  Ariftotle, 
though  he  draws  the  alluiion  from  painting,  muft  ftill  be  fuppofed  to 
keep  his  eye  on  the  fubjedl  he  is  treating  of,  poetic,  and  more  efpecially, 
tragic  imitation  j  which  could  never  be  confidered  in  any  light  as  an 
amufement,  if  the  terrible  fcenes  which  it  produces  did  not  come  under 
the  cafe  of  the  illuftration  here  brought  from  painting,  pleafing  as  an 
imitation  though  difagreeable  in  reality  ;  difagreeable,  not  from  producing 
mean  and  difgufling  objedls,  but  from  awakening  too  ftrongly  the  paf- 
fions  by  aifedling  and  terrible  ones. 

The  author  of  the  Effay  on  the   Sublime  and  Beautiful,  juftly  ob- 
ferves,  *  when  danger  or  pain  prefs  too  nearly  they  are  incapable  of 

*  giving  any  delight,  and  are  fimply  terrible,  but  at  certain  diftances, 

*  and 


Chap.  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  lo^ 

*  and  with  certain  modifications,  they  are  delightful,  as  we  every  day 

*  experience  [a]. 

It  muft,  however,  be  confefled,  that  the  following  remark  of  the  fame 
judicious   critic,    is   ftrongly  in   favor   of   Mr.   Twining  and  Vittorio. 

*  When  the  objeft  reprefented  in  painting  or  poetry  is  fuchas  we  fliould 

*  have  no  defire  of  feeing  in  reality,  then  I  may  be  fure  that  its  power 

*  in  poetry  or  painting  is  ovdng  to  the  power  of  imitation,  and  to  no 

*  caufe  operating  in  the  thing  itfelf.     So  it  is  with  moft  of  the  pieces 

*  which  the  painters  call  ftill  life.  In  thefe  a  cottage  or  a  dunghill,  the 
'  meaneft  and  moft  ordinary  furniture  of  the  kitchen  are  capable  of 
'  giving  us  pleafure.     But  when  the  obje<ft  of  the  painting  or  poem  is 

*  fuch  as  we  fhould  run  to  fee  if  real,  let  it  affedt  us  with  what  odd  fort 

*  of  fenfe  it  will,  we  may  rely  upon  it  that  the  power  of  the  poem  or 

*  pidture  is  more  owing  to  the  nature  of  the   thing  itfelf  than  to  the 

*  mere  effeft  of  the  imitation,  or  to  a  confideration  of  the  iTcill  of  the 

*  imitator,  however  excellent  [b].' 

In  the  letters  of  Mr.  Jackfon  of  Exeter,  we  find  an  obfervation  fome- 
thing  fimilar  as  to  painting.     *  A  deep  road,  a  puddle  of  water,  a  bank 

*  covered  with  docks  and  briars,  and  an  old  tree  or  two,  are  all  the  cir- 

*  cumftances  in  many  a  fine  landfcape.     As  clowns  and  half-ftarved 

*  cattle  are  the  figures  a  landfcape-painter  chufes  for  his  pidtures  ;  fo 

*  rough-looking  fellows,  wrapped  up  in  fheets  and  blankets,  are  chofen 

*  by  the  hiftory  painter  to  exprefs  the  greatefl  perfonages,  and  in  the 

[a]  Part  i.  fe6l.  vii.     See  alfo  part  iv.  k&,  vii. 

[b]  Part  i.  fe6i  xvi. 

P  *  moll 


io6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  iv. 

•  moft  dignified  actions  of  their  lives  [c].'     Nearly  the  fame  obferva- 

♦  tion  is  made  by  M.  Marmontel  [d]. 

From  this  circumftance  in  painting,  however,  I  have  often  heard  a 
falfe  conclufion  drawn ;  and  becaufe  the  various  tints  of  autumnal  decay 
afford  a  better  fubjedl  to  a  painter  than  the  luxuriant  charms  of  fummer, 
it  is  not  uncommon  to  hear  that  feafon  preferred  as  being  really  more 
beautiful.  The  poet  knows  better ;  for  one  poetical  defcription  of 
autumn,  there  are  a  thoufand  of   fpring[E].     As  well  might  a  real 

fituation 

[c]  Letter  vi. 

[d]  See  Encyclopedic,  Art.  Interet. 

[e]  '  To  the  appearance  of  fpring,  the  imagination  joins  tliat  of  the  feafons  which  are  ta 

♦  follow;  to  the  tender  buds  that  are  perceived  by  the  eye,  the  imagination  adds,  flowers, 

*  fruit,  fhades,  and  fometimes  the  myfteries  they  may  conceal.     It  brings  into  one  point  0/ 

♦  view  the  fcenes  that  are  to  fucceed,  and  fees  things  lefs  as  they  are  than  as  it  wifhes  them 

*  to  be.  On  the  contrary,  in  autumn  we  can  only  contemplate  the  fcene  before  us.  If  we 
^  wifli  to  anticipate  the  fpring,  our  courfe  is  flopped  by  winter,  and  our  frozen  imaginatiea 
'  expires  among  fnows,  and  fogs.*     EiMiLius,  Vol.  I.  1.  i. 

•  Yet  in  thefc  prefages  rude, 
''  'Midft  her  penfive  folitude, 

*  Fancy  with  prophetic  glance 

•  Sees  the  teeming  months  advance  ; 

'  The  field,  the  foreft,  green,  and  gay, 

*  The  dappled  flope,  the  tedded  hay, 

*  Sees  the  reddening  orchard  blow, 

•  The  harveft  wave,  th'e  vintage  flow: 
'  Sees  June  unfold  his  glofly  robe 

'  Of  thoufand  hues  o'er  all  the  globe  ; 
'  Sees  Ceres  grafp  her  crown  of  corn, 
^  And  plenty  load  her  ample  horn.'  Warton. 

In 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  107 

fituation  of  diftrels  be  preferred  to  tranquility,  becaufe  it  excites  the 
feeling  more  in  imitation. 

In  regard  to  imitation  as  effeded  by  the  fine  arts  in  general,  I  perfedly 
agree  with  Metaftafio,  that  to  render  an  imitation  pleafing,  (efpecially  of 
a  terrible  objed,  or  of  an  objed:  that  does  not  of  itfelf  interefl  us,)  it  is 
necellary  that  tlie  means  of  imitation  fliould  be  apparent  [f]. 

This  appears  in  painting  from  the  [g]  greater  excellence  allowed  to  a 
good  pidure,  compared  with  thofe  reprefentations  of  letters,  newfpapers 
and  deal  boards,  which  fometimes  really  deceive  the  eye  ;  and  in  fculp- 
ture,  from  the  great  fuperiority  of  a  fine  ftatue,  to  a  piece  of  colored 
wax  work.     Even  in  perfonal  mimicry,  it  feems  that  the  refemblancc 

In  painting  we  confine  ourfclves  to  the  individual  fcene ;  in  poetry  we  go  more  to  caufe 
and  efFe£t.     For  as  Mr.  Gilpin  obferves,  '  the  bufniefs  of  the  poet  is  only  to  excite  ideas, 

*  that  of  the  painter  to  reprefent  them.  The  pencil  fixes  the  fcene  in  the  happy  moment ;  and 
'  the  fading  tints  of  autumn  become  perennial;  but  the  idea  excited  by  the  poet  connedls  the 
'  falling  leaf  and  the  difagreeable  imprelTion'of  decay  with  it,  and  anticipates  the  dreary  fcenes 
'  of  winter.' 

[f]  '  That  which  is  called  an  imitation  has  always  fomething  in  it  that  is  not  in  the  original. 
'  If  the  prototype  and  tranfcript  be  exadlly  alike;  if  there  be  nothing  in  the  one  which  is  not 
'  in  the  other,  we  may  call  the  latter  a  reprefentation,  a  copy,  a  draught,  or  a  pi6ture  of  the 
'  former,  but  not  an  imitation.'     Beattie  on  Poetry  and  Music,  Part  i.  chap.  v.  p.  94. 

[g]  '  Deception,  which  is  fo  often  recommended  by  writers  on  the  theory  of  painting, 
'  iiiftead  of  advancing  the  art,  is,  in  reality,  carrying  it  back  to  its  infant  ftate.  The  firft 
'  elTays  of  painting  were  certainly  nothing  but  mere  imitations  of  individual   objeiSs,   and 

*  when  this  amounted  to  a  deception  the  artift  had  accompliihed  his  purpofe.'  Note  by  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  on  Mr.  Mason's  translation  of  Fresnoy. 

P  2  niay 


io8  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  iv, 

may  be  too  ftriking,  as  in  the  ftoiy  of  the  perfon  who  was  hilled  for 
not  imitating  the  fqueaking  of  a  pig,  fo  naturally  as  his  competitor, 
though  it  proved  to  be  the  animal  itfelf,  which  he  had  concealed  under 
his  coat.  The  fame  circumftance  will  be  found  in  theatrical  imita- 
tion [h].  An  adtor  who  has  really  a  defedl,  will  never  reprefent  fuch  a 
defedl  well  on  the  ftage.  In  Hill's  Aftor  [i]  there  is  a  very  juft  obfervation 
on  this.     *  There  are  fome  charafters  in  which  a  reprefentation  of  old 

*  age  is  neceffary,  but  even  in  thefe  it  is  better  that  it  fliould  be  a  pre- 

*  tended  than  a  real  age  we  fee.  The  ftage  is  the  fcene  of  reprefenta- 
'   tion,  not  realities.     Mr.  Foote  pleafes  more  in  Fondlewife  than  an  old 

*  man  pofTibly  could  :  and  the   reafon  is  evident :  we  wifh  to  fee  the 

*  reprefentation  of  a  ridiculous,  not  of  a  pitiable  old  fellow.     We  exped: 

*  to  be  entertained  with  the  follies  of  age,  not  difgufted  with  its  in- 

*  firmities.     The  poet  can  fcparate  thefe  perfedlly  in  the  charadler  that 

*  he  draws  ;  and  when  a  perfon  of  real  judgment  is  to  reprefent  it,  he 
'  alfo  can  feparate  all  that  is  contemptible,  from  what  is  the  objed  [k] 

[h]  This  does  not  apply  to  excellence,  as  human  nature  is  always  inadequate  to  our  idea 
of  poetical  perfection. 

[i]  Chap.  X.  page  i66. 

[k.]  See  Ariftotle's  idea  of  comedy,  at  the  beginning  of  chapter  v. 

In  the  Dictionnaire  d'Anecdotes,  Art.  AcTEUR,the  following  ftory  is  told,  on  what  founda- 
tion I  know  not.  The  authority  quoted  Ls  a  book  entitled  I'Anne  Litteraire.  *  An  adton, 
'  after  having  for  thirty  years  played  with  fuccefs,  in  feveral  parts,  had  the  misfortune  to  lame 
«  himfelf,  and  ever  afterwards  limped.    In  fpite  of  this  misfortune,  as  his  paflion  was  for  tragedy, 

*  he  concluded  that  from  this  accident  he  was  the  fitteft  perfon  in  the  world  to  play  Richard 
«  the  1  hlrd,  whom  Shakefpear,  the  author  of  the  tragedy,  had  reprefented  as  lame.     Our  aiSor 

*  flattered  himfelf  with  the  moft  brilliant  fuccefs.     He  prefented  himfelf  to  the  audience  with 

*  the  greateft  confidence.  But  when  he  came  to  repeat  thefe  words,  "  the  dogs  bark  at  me 
"  as  I  h&lt  by  them,"  there  was  a  general  laugh,  and  he  was  obliged  to  quit  the  ftage.' 

of 


Note  1.  POETRY  OF  ARISTOTLE.  log 

'  of  compaflion,  and  fliew  it  fingly.'  I  remember  an  inftance  of  a 
French  gentleman,  who  fpoke  English  with  the  accent  of  his  country, 
performing  the  Frenchman  in  Lethe,  on  a  private  theatre,  with  very 
indifferent  effe<5t.  Irifli  and  Scotch  charadters,  it  is  true,  are  often  well 
reprefented  by  perfons  of  thofe  countries,  but  fuch  adtors  are  all  able  to 
fpeak  good  Englifh  in  other  parts,  and  know  how  far  to  carry  the  imita- 
tion. I  conceive  a  Scotchman,  or  an  Irilhman,  whofe  converfation  was 
always  flrongly  marked  by  their  refpeftive  dialedls,  would  fucceed  no 
better  than  the  French  gentleman  I  have  mentioned. 

To  apply  this  to  the  illuftration  of  Ariftotle.  Certainly  the  pidlure 
of  a  dead  body  will  in  general  give  no  difguft,  or  excite  no  painful 
horror,  however  well  executed  :  but  a  dead  body  might  be  fo  formed  in 
wax-work,  as  abfolutely  for  a  moment  to  deceive  the  eye,  and  then, 
even  if  the  deception  were  declared  before  its  exhibition,  I  doubt  if  the 
fpedtator  would  receive  any  other  pleafure  than  what  might  arife  from 
the  accuracy  of  the  workmandiip.  But  even  in  a  pidture,  if  circum- 
flances  in  themfelves  really  difgufting  are  added,  horror  will  rather  be 
excited  than  pleafure,  as  in  the  [l]  print  of  a  robber  entering  a  vault  to 
plunder  it,  and  fome  engravings  from  Holben's  celebrated  pidlure  of 
Death's  Dance,  which  I  have  feen.  The  fame  thing  is  incident  alfo  to 
poetry,  as  in  a  little  poem  on  the  death  of  a  lady,  which  begins, 

*  In  yonder  grave  my  Helen  lies.' 

The  effedl  produced  on  the  mind,  by  the  different  degrees  of  exadl- 
nefs  in  pidlurefque  imitation,  may  perhaps  be  illuftrated  by  the  common 

[l]  See  Beattie  on  Poetry  and  Mufic,  Part  i.  chap.  vi.  page  124,  note. 

looking- 


no  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  iv. 

looking-glafs,  the  plano-convex  mirror  on  a  black  foil,  and  the  camera 
obfcura.  The  looking-glafs  is  the  exadt  reprefentation,  or  rather  re- 
fledlion  of  nature,  without  any  apparent  alteration  in  the  objecfts,  (for 
the  reverfing  them  is  not  obferved  -,)  and  a  landfcape  feen  in  it,  how- 
ever fine,  only  gives  the  fame  pleafure  as  when  {een  through  a  window, 
except  from  the  frame,  which,  if  the  glafs  is  not  too  large,  both  from 
its  artificial  boundary,  and  confining  the  eye  to  a  part  of  the  view,  will 
give  the  landfcape  fomething  more  of  a  pidlurefque  charadter,  than  when 
the  objedls  are  feen  without  it.  [m]  The  plano-convex  mirror  pleafes 
more,  as  having  more  the  appearance  of  an  imitation  produced  by  art, 
and  obje(5ls  in  themfelves  infignificant  and  mean,  acquire  a  beauty  from 
this,  and  aflx)rd  delight.  But  the  camera-obfcura  gives  by  far  the 
greateft  pleafure,  as  having  every  property  of  a  pidture,  except  that  it 
poflelTes  the  fuperior  advantage  of  exprefling  motion,  as  well  as  color 
and  figure.  And  I  am  inclined  to  imagine,  that  even  an  affedting  or 
terrific  objedl  feen  in  it,  would  in  fome  meafure  partake  of  that  allevia- 
tion which  Ariftotle  afcribes  to  artificial  imitation. 

As  painting  imitates  entirely  by  natural  means,  (I  mean  as  oppofcd  to 
fymbols)  it  is  able  to  imitate  the  moft  exadlly  of  any  art  except  colored 
{latuary ;  but  as  its  means  of  imitation  are  always  apparent,  the  imitation 
can  never  be  too  exadl  to  pleafe,  except  in  objedls  that  are  in  themfelves 
loathfome  and  difgufting.     The  fame  may  be  faid  of  ftatues  in  ftone  or 

[m]  I  have  not  the  leaft  doubt  of  this  being  the  caufe  why  we  fee  fome  fcenes  in  the  plano- 
convex mirror  with  greater  pleafure  than  in  nature.  I  am  furprifed  it  did  not  occur  to  Mr. 
Gilpin,  who  is  fenfible  of  the  cfFeft,  but  is  at  a  lofs  to  account  for  it.  Remarks  on  Forest 
Scenery,  Vol.  II.  p.  224.  If  he  had  (hewn  it  to  the  firft  countryman  he  met,  in  all  pro- 
bability he  would  have  folved  the  doubt  at  once,  by  telling  him  it  looked  like  a  piflure.  ' 

metal. 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  iii 

metal,  where  the  material,  the  mean  of  imitation  is,  1  think,  yet  more 
apparent ;  but  in  coloured  ftatuary,  or  wax-work,  where  the  imitation 
may  for  a  fhort  time  be  concealed,  thatpleafure  is  not  produced,  which  is 
the  proper  refult  of  imitative  art,  and  objedls  of  pity  and  terror  may  be 
fo  accurately  reprefented  as  to  be  really  painful.  The  coUedlion  of 
figures  in  wax-work  coloured,  dreffed,  and  fitting  down  at  card  tables, 
exhibited  fome  years  ago  by  Mrs.  Wright,  on  firft  entrance  gave  exaftly 
the  idea  of  a  well  drefled  affembly,  and  the  impreffion  remained  after  the 
illufion  ceafed.  Nothing  of  this  fort  is  produced  by  painting  or  ftatuary, 
and  yet  how  different  and  fuperior  to  this  furprife  is  the  pleafure  we  re- 
ceive from  a  portrait  of  Sir  Jofliua  Reynolds,  or  a  ftatue  of  Banks. 

As  to  mufic  I  am  very  ill  qualified  to  treat  It  fclentlfically,  therefore  I 
hope  the  mufical  reader  will  forgive  me  if  my  language  is  deficient  in 
technical  accuracy,  provided  I  make  myfelf  underflood.  But  I  conceive 
where  it  Is  an  imitative  art,  it  imitates  fometimes  by  natural  means,  and 
fometlmes  by  compad:.  Its  natural  means  are  the  imitation  of  certain 
founds,  as  the  noife  of  a  battle,  the  finging  of  birds,  the  ringing  or  tolling 
of  bells.  Its  imitation  by  compact  confifts  In  exprefiing  forrow  by  flow 
movements,  anger  by  quick;  high  and  low,  by  high  and  low  notes:  moft 
of  thefe  imitations  are  rather  fanciful  than  real  [n]. 

The  chief  energy  of  mufic,  (to  thofe  I  mean  who,  in  the  words  of 
Shakefpear,  really  have  it  in  their  fouls,  and  with  the  want  of  which, 
many  who  pofi'efs  it  fo  as  to  be  tremblingly  alive  to  its  effeds  are  upbraided, 

[n]  See  Beattie  on  Poetry  and  Mufic,  Part  i.  Chap.  vi.  Sed.  i,  paflim. 

becaufe 


112  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  iv. 

becaufe  they  take  no  delight  in  the  dexterity  of  a  performer's  execution 
of  difficult  paliages  ;)  I  fay  to  thofe  who  really  feel  the  energy  of  mulic,  it 
chiefly  arifes  from  the  power  it  polTelies  of  raifing,  heightening,  or  foften- 
ing  the  paffions.  Neverthelefs  the  influence  it  derives  from  the  combi- 
nation of  ideas  is  often  millaken  both  for  imitation  and  fympathy  [o]. 
Mr.  Twining,  who  I  believe  is  a  very  good  mufician,  obferves  that  *  the 

*  befl;  inflirumental  muflc,'  (and  I  prefume  vocal  mufic  where  the  words  are 
not  heard,  or  not  underftood,  comes  under  the  fame  predicament  '  expref- 

*  fively  performed,)  leaves  the  hearer  to  the  free  operation  of  his  emotions 

*  on  his  fancy,  and  as  it  were  to  the  free  choice  of  fuch  ideas  as  are  to  him 

*  mofl  adapted  to  re-adl  upon  and  heighten  the  emotion  which  occafions 

*  them.'  [p].  That  is,  in  other  words,  that  the  effedl  of  muhcal  ex- 
preffion  depends  much  on  the  temper  of  our  own  minds,  at  the  time. 
Now  that  temper  muft  be  greatly  influenced  by  any  ideas  that  a  particular 
ftrain  may  raife  in  us  from  circumftances  that  have  formerly  attended  our 
hearing  it  [o^].     Will  the  grenadier  march  have  the  fame  effedl  on  a 

warrior 


£o]  '  Such  is  the  fecret  union  when  we  feel 

'  A  fong,  a  flower,  a  name  at  once  reftore 

'  Thofe  long-conne£i:ed  fcenes  where  firft  they  mov'd 

'  The  attention.'  Akenside. 

[p]  Difl'ertation  on  mufic  as  an  imitative  art,  page  49.  For  an  application  of  this  to  the 
different  kinds  of  verfification,  as  confidered  particularly  congenial  with  different  kinds  of 
poetry,  fee  note  iv.  chap.  xxiv. 

[qj]  '  There  is  in  fouls  a  fympathy  with  founds; 
'  And  as  the  mind  is  pitch'd,  the  ear  is  pleafed 
'  With  melting  founds  or  martial,  briflc  or  grave. 

'  Some 


Note  r.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  1/3 

warrior  whom  it  has  led  on  to  battle,  and  a  man  v/ho  was  never  at  a 
review  ?  But  this  is  not  peculiar  to  mulical  founds.  A  nightingale  fmgs 
very  differently  to  the  perfon  who  has  only  heard  it  in  a  cage  in  London, 
and  the  lover  who  has  liftened  to  its  voice  in  the  woods  in  the  company 
of  his  miflrefs,  or  fighed  to  it  in  her  abfence.  The  cry  of  a  pack  of  fox 
hounds  in  a  hollow  cover,  in  which  the  fportfman  hears  the  fineft  mufic, 
is  the  mere  barking  of  dogs  to  the  fober  citizen.  Neither  is  this  fym- 
pathy  confined  to  found,  it  is  equally  adlive  in  the  objedjts  of  the  other 
fenfes.  Rouffeau  fays  [r],  *  I  do  not  know  whether  to  congratulate  or 
*  pity  the  man  of  wifdom,  but  infenfibility,  whofe  bofom  was  never  agi- 
<  tated  by  the  odour  of  the  ilowers  that  adorned  the  bofom  of  his 
'  miftrefs.' 

From  this  affociation  of  ideas,  however,  mufic  derives  a  power  very 
much  refembling  imitation,  and  which  has  a  very  ftrong  effedt  on  the 

*  Some  chord  in  unifon  with  what  we  hear 

'  Is  touch'd  within  us,  and  the  heart  replies. 

*  How  foft  the  mufic  of  the  evening  bells 
'  Falling  at  intervals  upon  the  ear 

*  In  cadence  fweet !     Now  dying  all  away, 
'  Now  pealing  loud  again,  and  louder  ftill 

*  Clear  and  fonorous  as  the  gale  comes  on. 
'  With  eafy  force  it  opens  all  the  cells 

*  Where  memory  flept ;  wherever  I  have  heard 
'  A  kindred  melody,  the  fcene  recurs, 

'  And  with  it  all  its  pleafures.'  Cowper. 

This  kind  of  recolledion  refembles  imitation  in  making  pleafmg  objeds  afford  additional, 
pleafure,  and  in  throwing  fome  pleafure  over  melancholy  objeds,  which  laft  alfo  will  be  equally 
deftroyed  in  both  if  the  fenfation  is  too  ftrong. 

[r]  Emilias,  Vol.  i.  Part  i. 

Q^  pafilons. 


114  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  iv. 

paflions.  The  rans  des  vaches,  mentioned  by  Rouffeau  in  his  Dic- 
tionary of  Mufic,  though  without  any  thing  ftriking  in  the  compolition, 
has  fach  a  powerful  influence  over  the  Swifs,  and  impreffes  them  with 
fo  violent  a  defire  to  return  to  their  own  country,  that  it  is  forbidden  to 
be  played  in  the  Swifs  regiments  in  the  French  fervice,  on  pain  of  death. 
There  is  alfo-  another  circumflance  relating  to  mufic,  which  makes  it  in 
ibme  inftances  more  than  imitation.  Certain  mufical  inftruments  are 
from  cuftom  conftantly  attendant  on  certain  adions,  as  the  organ  on 
religion,  and  the  drum  and  fife  on  war  and  its  preparations ;  therefore 
when  thefe  inftruments  are  heard,  our  ideas  are  not  raifed  by  aflbciation 
only,  but  as  far  as  the  fenfe  of  hearing  is  concerned  an  a(5lual  deception 
takes  place.  If  my  other  fenfes  do  not  undeceive  me  when  I  hear  a 
drum  and  fife  play  a  march,  I  conclude  foldiers  are  marching  by  j  and  if 
I  hear  a  choir  and  an  organ,  I  imagiiie  myfelf  in  or  near  a  place  of  reli- 
gious worfhip. 

The  abfurd  attempt  to  make  *  the  found  an  echo  to  the  fenfe,'  by 
mentioning  the  names  of  mufical  inftruments  in  language,  and  then  ac- 
companying that  language  with  the  found  of  the  inftruments  that  are 

■  named,  is  very  juftly  cenfured  by  Mr.  Jackfon  of  Exeter  [s].  There  is 
a  ridiculous  inftance  of  a  mufical  pun  of  this  kind  in  a  fong  of  that  agree- 
able compofer,  Dibden,  in  the  Padlock,  where,  while  Don  Diego  is 
finging  '  Horns  !  horns  !  I  defy  you,'  he  is  accompanied  by  French- 

, horns. 

The  effedl  of  mufic  when  combined  with  poetry,  is  alfo  principally 
occafioned  by  afibciation.     The  notion  that  the  words  of  a  fong  and  its 

[s]  Preface  to  his  Opera  iv. 
V  tune 


Note  I-  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  115 

tune  are  particularly  adapted  to  each  other,  often  arifes  froni  conrtantly 
hearing  them  together.  I  will  not  dilpute  that  Ibme  movements  are 
more  fuited  to  one  kind  of  poetry  than  another,  or  deny  that  an  elegy  and  a 
drinking  fong  require  a  different  kind  of  mulic  to  accompany  them  ;  but 
undoubtedly  the  words  of  a  fong  often  ftamp  a  charafter  on  the  tunc 
which  of  itfelf  it  would  never  have  acquired.  Since  the  popular  fong  of 
Hofier's  Ghoft  was  written,  how  many  fea  fongs  have  been  put  to  the 
fame  tune  ?  Would  not  a  perfon  be  induced  to  think  from  this,  that  it 
was  particularly  adapted  to  maritime  ideas  ?  Yet  it  was  originally  com- 
pofed  for  a  fong  on  a  very  different  fubjedl,  which  began  '  Welcome, 
'  welcome,  brother  debtor.' 

I  am  far,  however,  from  meaning  to  afTert  that  mufic  has  not  flrong 
powers  of  exciting  our  feelings,  independent  of  the  fubjedl  or  the  words 
it  accompanies,  or  any  kind  of  alTociation  whatever,  and  that  there  is  no 
real  difference  between  a  jig  and  a  dirge.  A  particular  inftance,  fome- 
thing  applicable  to  this,  occurs  to  me.  Dr.  Armftrong,  in  his  Sketches, 
alks  '  Who  was  it  that  threw  out  thofe  dreadful  wild  exprefiions  of 
'  diflradtion  and  melancholy  in  Lady  Culross's  dream,  an  old 
'  compofition  now  I  am  afraid  loft,  perhaps  becaufe  it  was  almofl  too 
*  terrible  for  the  ear  r'  A  modern  coUedor  of  old  ballads  has  however 
found  the  words,  and  tells  us  he  can  perceive  nothing  terrible  in  them. 

The  natural  means  of  imitation  pofTefTed  by  poetry  are  few  and  weak, 
and  are  folely  confined  to  the  verfification.  Moft  of  the  verfcs  quoted 
as  proofs. of  its  power  in  this  refpedt,  make  more  impreffion  on  th^  ima- 
gination than  the  ear.     I  am  aftonifhed  how  Mr.  Harris  [t]  could  give 

{tj  Difcoui'fe  on  Mufic,  Poetry  and  P.-iinting,  page  73. 

0^2  poetry 


ii6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  ir. 

poetry  the  preference  to  mufic  in  its  ability  to  imitate  found.  I  fhould 
very  much  doubt,  fhould  the  flrongeft  inflance  of  verfification  conveying 
the  fenfe  by  the  found,  be  repeated  to  a  perfon  of  however  good  an  ear, 
who  was  unacquainted  with  the  language,  if  he  would  difcover  tlie 
imitation  :  but  {hould  the  mufic  of  thofe  two  airs  of  Handel,  which  be- 
gin *  Hu{h,  ye  pretty  warbling  choir,'  and  '  Let  the  merry  bells  ring 
*  round,'  be  played  to  a  perfon  of  the  moft  irreligious  ears,  and  the  imi- 
tation would  be  inftantly  obvious. 

But  the  powers  of  imitation  by  means  of  compacfl,  which  are  poffeffed 
by  poetry,  are  infinite  ;  they  are  applicable  to  aftions  and  paflions,  which 
they  can  follow  through  all  their  various  forms  and  modifications  j  they 
can  comprehend  every  being  in  nature  or  in  art,  animate  or  inaniinate  •„ 
and  their  nobler  objecfls  and  extenfive  field  of  imitation  more  than  com- 
penfate  for  any  iinferiority  in  the  particular  means  [u]. 

.  But  there  is  one  fpecies  of  poetical  imitation,  nearer  to  nature,  and  in 
every  refpedl  fuperior  to  thofe  effedted  by  any  other  artj  I  mean  the 
modern  drama  well  adled.  In  comedy,  and  the  private  life  tragedy  in 
profe,  the  reprefentation  is  exadl,  it  ceafes  to  be  imitation,  it  is  the  thing 
itfelf,  and  therefore,  to  judge  by  my  own  feelings,  (I  can  have  no  other 
criterion  to  judge  thofe  of  others,)  fuch  reprefentations  of  fcenes  of  terror 
and  deep  diftrefs  are  dreadful,  they  prefs  too  nearly  on  the  mind,  the 
deception  is  for  the  time  compleat,  the  horror  [v]  of  the  fcene  is  not 
foftened  by  the  apparent  means  of  imitation  fo  as  to  be  pleafing.  I  rife 
from  feeing  fuch  tragedies  as  George  Barnwell,   the  Fatal  Curiofity  and 


[u]  See  Gerard  on  Tafle,  Part  i.  Sefl.  iv. 

[v]  Encyclopedic,  Art.  Illufion,  by  Marmontel.     See  Note  v,  Chap.  vi. 


tlje 


NoTEi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  117 

the  Gamefter,  with  nearly  the  fame  fenfation  as  if  I  had  been  a<ftually 
prefent  at  fcenes  of  the  fame  kind  in  real  life.  '■'■>! 

In  the  higher  tragedy,  the  blank  verfe,  the  [w]  exalted  perfonages, 
and  the  inadequacy  of  the  theatrical  [x]  apparatus  to  the  objects  repre- 
fented,  fufficiently  difcover  the  means  of  imitation,  and  the  moll  tragical 
cataftrophe  will  not  be  always  fo  afFeding  as  to  difpleafe.  I  fay  not 
always,  becaufe  there  are,  in  my  opinion,  fome  cafes  where  the  diflrefs 
may  be  too  forcibly  worked  up  even  in  the  higher  tragedy,  but  this  will 
be  examined  more  at  large  when  we  come  to  conlider  Ariftotle's  idea  of 
the  proper  effed  of  tragedy,  and  the  moil  perfedl  conflrudlion  of  tragic 
fable  [v].  It  is  however  obvious  that  our  theatrical  language  and  ap- 
paratus is  infinitely  more  natural  than  that  of  the  Grecian  ftage.  And 
perhaps  it  may  admit  a  doubt,  whether  even  Ariftotle,  if  he  had  feen  a 
Garrick  in  Lear,  or  a  Siddons  in  Ifabella,  would  have  given  the  prefe- 
rence to  the  unhappy  cataftrophe,  or  aflerted  that  a  tragedy  attained  its 
end  by  reading  as  well  as  in  reprefentation  [z]. 

In 

fw]  It  is  true,  the  Bifliop  of  Worcefter  fays,  '  Whatever  be  the  unhappy  incidents  in  the 
'  ftbry  of  private  men,  it  is  certain  they  mufi:  take  fafter  hold  of  the  imagination,  and  of 
*  courfe  imprefs  the  heart  more  forcibly  when  related  of  the  higher  charafters  in  life.'  Dis- 
sertation ON  THE  Provinces  of  the  Drama,  page  i68;  and  this  is  corroborated* by 
tiie  quotation  of  the  two  concluding  lines  of  the  Hippolytus  of  Euripedes.  I  have  the  utjnoft 
deference  for  the  opinion  of  fo  elegant  a  critic  and  fo  pathetic  a  poet,  but  the  dired:  contrary 
is  to  me  fo  certain  from  my  own  feelings  and  experience,  that  I  cannot  acquiefce  in  it. 
'  Amicus  Plato,  amicus  Socrates,  fed  magis  arnica  Veritas.' 

[x]  See  note  iii.  on  Chap,  xi,  and  note  i.  on  Chap.  xxvr. 

[y]  See  Note  VII.  Ch.  xiii. 

[z]  Chap.  XXVI.     The  means  of  imitation  are  as  much  or  more  liable  to  err  from  being  too 
defedive,  or  too  apparent,  than  from  the  oppofite  quality ;  and  this  I  take  to  have  been  the  cafe 

with. 


i;i8  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  iv. 

[a]  In  comedy  where  the  effedl  is  chearful,  the  complete  delufion 
rather  encreafes  the  pleafure ;  and  even  in  the  ferious  comedy  the  prefent 
anxiety  is  alleviated  by  the  certainty  of  a  happy  cataflrophe. 


NOTE     II. 

MARGITES, 

FROM  the  account  given  of  this  fiftitlous  perfonage  by  Suidas,  and 
Euftathius,  he  muft  have  been  an  abfolute  ideot,  and  therefore  an  im- 
proper objeft  of  ridicule  even  in  the  grolfeft  and  loweft  kind  of  farce. 
But  the  fragments  of  the  poem  itfelf,  which  are  quoted  by  Ariftotle,  Eth. 
L.  VI.  ch.  viii.  and  by  Plato,  Alcibiad.  ii.  efpecially  the  laft,  give  the 
outline  of  a  charader  that  would  not  be  unfit  for  modern  comedy. 

[b]   '   Nor  fkill  to  dig  or  plow,  the  gods  impart; 

*  Unwife  in  all,  he  fail'd  in  every  art.' — 

*  Much  had  he  learn'd  but  all  had  learn'd  amifs-' 

The  charadler  of  Mrs.  Baynard,  in  SmoUet's  novel  Hum.phrey  Clinker,  is 
fomething  like  the  hint  in  the  laft  line,  '  She  could  read,  and  write,  and 

with  the  ancient  Greek  tragedy.     In  the  paflage  here  referred  to,  it  is  probable  that  Ariftotle 
means  to  compare  the  tragedy  when  read,  with  the  epopee,  and  not  with  the  fame  tragedy  a£led. 

[a]  Encyclopedic,  Art.  IlUifion. 

re"]   T'JkJ'  z't'  ac  (TxaTrlnpiz  Sfoi  Gc'(rai(  ar'  x^o%^x 


n«A\'  mViVkIo  'i^y*  x«xwy  d''  rnrlro^o  umIx. 


fine. 


Note  in.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  119 

*  fing,  and  play  on  the  harpfichord,  and  fmatter  French,  and  take  a  hand 
'  at  whifl,  or  ombre,  but  even  thefe  accompHfhnients  fhe  knew  by  halves, 

*  and  excelled  in  nothing.' 


It  muft  be  remarked,  that  though  Ariflotle  fays  the  Margites  was  in 
iambics,  all  the  fragments  we  have  are  hexameters.  But  Hephsftion  and 
M.  Vidlorinus,  quoted  by  Mr.  Winftanley  in  a  note,  both  obferve  that 
the  iambics  were  mixed  with  hexameters. 


NOTE     IIL 

AS  HOMER  THEREFORE  WAS  THE  GREATEST  POET  ON  SERIOUS 
SUBJECTS,  STANDING  ALONE  IN  POINT  OF  EXCELLENCE,  NOT 
ONLY  FROM  THE  GENERAL  MERIT  OF  HIS  IMITATIONS,  BUT 
FROM  THE  DRAMATIC  FORM  HE  GAVE  THEM,  SO  HE  ALSO  FIRST 
TAUGHT    THE    PROPER    SYSTEM  OF    COMEDY. 

SO  Lord  Shafte{bury,   *  He  (Homer)  paints  fo  as  to  need  no  infcrip- 

'  tion  over  his  figures,  to  tell  what  they  are  or  what  he  intends  by  them; 

'  a  few  words  let  fall  on  any  flight  occafion  from  any  of  the  parties  he  in- 

*  troduces,  are  fufficient  to  denote  their  manners  and  diftindl  charadler. 
'  From  a  finger  or  a  toe  he  can  reprefent  to  our  thoughts,  the  frame  and 
'  fafhion  of  a  whole  body.  He  wants  no  other  help  of  art  to  perfonate 
'  his  heroes,  and  make  them  living.  There  was  no  more  left  for  tragedy 
'  to  do  after  him  than  to  eredt  a  flage,  and  draw  his  dialogues  and  cha- 

*  ratflers  into  fcenes,  turning  in  the  fame  manner  upon  one  principal 
'  acflion,  or  event,  with  that  regard  to  place,  and  time,  which  was  fuit- 
'  able  to  a  real  fpedlacle.     Even  comedy  itfelf  was  adjudged  to  this  great 

*  mafter. 


120  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  iv. 

*  mafter,  it  being  derived  from  thofe  parodies  or  mock  humours  of  which 

*  he  had  given  the  fpecimen  [c]  in  a  concealed  fort  of  raillery,  inter- 

*  mixed    with    the    fublime.'      Advice   to   an    Author,     Part   i. 
Seft.  III. 


NOTE     IV. 

OF     ALL     VERSE     THE     IAMBIC    IS    MOST     CALCULATED    FOR. 

DISCOURSE. 

THIS  account  of  iambic  verfe,  and  its  diftincftion  from  hexameter,  is 
applicable  to  our  rhymed  and  blank  verfe.  All  attempts  to  introduce 
rhyme  into  the  drama,  though  aided  by  the  melodious  and  flowing  ver- 
fification  of  Dryden,  have  failed.  For  to  ufe  the  expreflion  of  Ariftotle, 
nature  herfelf  had  pointed  out  the  proper  meafure.  Dryden  carried  his 
prediledion  for  rhyme  fo  far  as  to  make  a  tragedy  in  rhyme  of  Paradifc 
Loft.  Perhaps  the  beft  fpecimen  we  have  of  dramatic  rhyme  is  in  the 
dialogue  of  Henry  and  Emma.  Prior  is  lefs  fcrupulous  about  confining 
his  fenfc  to  the  couplet  than  Pope,  or  even  Dryden. 

Whether  blank  or  rhymed  verfe  is  the  beft  adapted  to  the  epopee,  will 
be  enquired  elfewhere  [d].  But  there  is  a  difference  between  epic  and 
dramatic  blank  verfe,  the  latter  afluming  a  greater  freedom  of  cadence,  and 
the  frequent  ufe  of  one  or  two  redundant  fyllables  at  the  end  of  the  line,  of 

[cj  '  Not  only  in  his  Margitcs,  but  even  in  his  Iliad  and  Odyfley.'  Euftathius  obferves, 
that  Therfitcs  in  the  Iliad,  and  Elpenor  in  the  Odyffey,  are  kind  of  fketches  of  the  charaiSter 
which  he  drew  more  at  large  in  the  Margites. 

[u]  Sec  Note  iv.  Chap.  xxiv. 

which 


Chap.  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  121 

which  the  opening  of  the  Fair  Penitent  is  a  good  example.     In  this,  as 
in  every  other  province  of  the  drama,  Shakefpear  is  unrivalled. 

Mr.  Mafon,  in  his  Memoirs  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Whitehead, 
(fee  page  59,  et  feq.)  has  given  a  good  criticifm  on  the  excellence  of 
dramatic  language  ;  and  in  his  poems  of  Elfrida  and  Caradacus,  a  com- 
pleat  model  for  imitation. 


R  CHAP. 


122  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  v. 


CHAP.      V. 

N  O  T  E      I. 

RIDICULE  IS  PRODUCED  BY  ERRORS  UNATTENDED  BY  DAN- 
GEROUS AND  FATAL  CONSEQUENCES;  THUS  DEFORMITY  OF 
BODY  IS  RIDICULOUS,  PROVIDED  IT  IS  NOT  OCCASIONED  BY 
PAIN. 

JVl  I  STAKES  even  in  language,  as  blunders,  and  provincial  and  fo- 
reign dialeds,  are  among  the  errors  of  this  fpecies,  and  are  frequently 
ufed  as  a  fource  of  the  ridiculous  in  modern  farce,  and  even  comedy  -, 
though  I  cannot  agree  with  Lord  Kaimes,  as  to  the  caufe  of  this.     *  So 

*  quick-fighted'   (he  fays)   *  is  pride  in  blemifhes,  and  fo  willing  to  be 

•  gratified,  that  it  takes  up  with  the  very  flighteil  improprieties;  fuch  as 

*  a  blunder  by  a  foreigner  in  fpeaking  our  language,  efpecially  if  the  blun- 

•  der  can  bear  a  fenfe  that  refledls  on  the  fpeaker.'  Elements  of 
Criticism,  Vol.  i.  Ch.  xii. 

As  for  deformity  of  body  being  an  objeft  of  ridicule,  it  muft  be 
obferved  that  Ariftotle  is  here  fpeaking  of  the  old,  or  middle  comedy, 
equivalent  with  our  farce.  Such  as  many  of  Foote's  pieces  were,  who, 
like  Ariftophanes,  brought  perfonal  charadlers  on  the  flage  and  marked 
them  for  public  ridicule,  not  only  by  their  habitual  manners,  but  by 
bodily  deformities, infirmities, and  misfortunes; violating,  without  remorfe, 
the  latter  part  of  the  precept  of  the  Stagirite.  This  liberty,  or  rather 
licentioufnefs  of  imitation,  is  juflly  reprobated  by  Churchill. 

—  *  Mimics 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  123 

—  '  Mimics  draw  humour  out  of  nature's  fault, 

*  With  perfonal  defefts  their  mirth  adorn, 

*  And  hang  misfortunes  out  to  public  fcorn.' 

This  humane  qualification,  as  to  tlie  objefts  of  perfonal  ridicule,  is  ftridly 
obferved  by  Shakefpear.  A  very  ingenious  critic  obferves,  *  He  has 
'  given  him  (Falftaff)  every  infirmity  of  body  that  is  not  likely  to 
'  awaken  our  compaflion,  and  which  is  mofl  proper  to  render  both  his 
'  better  qualities  and  his  vices  ridiculous.'  Essay  on  the  Drama- 
tic Character  of  Falstaff,  Page  149  [a]. 

The  rule  of  not  fporting  with  ferious  misfortunes  fhould  be 
equally  obferved  in  comic  narration.  Indeed  it  is  pointed  out  by  na- 
ture J  for  he  muft  have  a  heart  little  fenfible  of  the  feelings  of  humanity, 
who  can  find  any  thing  ludicrous  in  the  real  diftreffes  and  fufferings  of 
others,  with  whatever  ridiculous  circumftances  they  may  be  related.  It 
is  wonderful,  that  a  people  who  boaft  fo  much  of  their  refinement  as  the 
French,  and  whofe  delicacy  cannot  bear  the  exhibition  of  fpecftacles  of 
fuflfering  on  the  tragic  fcene  for  the  purpofe  of  exciting  pity  and  terror, 
fhould  approve  the  narration  of  fuch  fads,  when  introduced  to  occafion 
mirth.  And  yet  not  only  Scarron  and  Rabelais,  the  laft  of  whom  has 
defcribed  very  minutely,  a  monk  kicked  to  death  by  a  vicious  horfe,  as  a 
laughable  accident;  but  even  the  works  of  Le  Sage,  abound  with  in- 
ftances  of  this  kind.  Savage  as  we  have  often  been  called  by  our  politer 
neighbours,  our  comic  writers  are  feldom  guilty  of  this  impropriety.  We 
have,  however,  one  flagrant  inftance  of  it  in  the  works  of  an  author  of 

[a]  See  alfo  Bcattie  on  Laughter  and  Ludicrous  Compofition,  Ch.  iii.  p.  431. 

,  R  2  undoubted 


124  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  v. 

undoubted  comic  excellence.     I  mean  Arbuthnot's  Journal  of  the   fix 
days  preceding  the  death  of  the  Bifliop  of  Salifbury. 


N  O  T  E     II. 

AMONG  THE  ATHENIANS,  CRATES  WAS  THE  FIRST  WHO  FORSOOK 
PERSONAL  SATIRE,  AND  INTRODUCED  A  GENERAL  SUBJECT  OR 
FABLE. 

FROM  this  paflage  it  is  obvious  that  ever)^  kind  of  comedy,  in  the 
time  of  Ariftotle,  was  not  like  thofe  of  Ariftophanes,  generally  founded 
on  perfonal  ridicule;  [b]  and  not  only  from  this  but  from  his  obfervation 
in  the  eleventh  chapter,  that  comic  poets  firfl  form  the  fable,  and 
then  add  names  correfpondent  with  the  manners  of  the  charadlers ;  and 
flill  more  particularly  from  his  aflertion,  that  a  double  cataftrophe,  like 
the  Odyffey,  where  virtue  is  rewarded  and  vice  punifhed,  is  better  calcu- 
lated for  [c]  comedy  than  tragedy.  From  thefe  remarks,  and  efpecially 
the  laft,  one  would  be  induced  to  think,  that  comedy  had  afiumed  a  higher 
charad:er  in  the  days  of  Ariftotle  than  is  ufually  afcribed  to  the  old  and 
middle  comedy.  The  fame  idea  has  occurred  to  M.  Lefling,  who  makes 
the  following  obfervation  on  it.  *  The  Stagirite  had  feen  the  origin  of 
'  the  new  comedy,  and  he  mentions  it  expreflly  in  his  treatife  on  ethics, 

*  addreffed  to  Nicomachus,  where  he  fpeaks  of  what  is  decent  and  what 

*  indecent  in  humourous  converfation,  "  which  (he  fiys)  may  be  illuf- 
"  luftrated  by  the  example  of  the  old,  and  new  comedy,  of  which  the 

[bJ  Though  many  of  the  comedies  of  Ariftophanes  are  not  entirely  perfonal ;  as  tiie  Plutus, 
the  Lyfiftrata,  and  the  Ecclefiazuzas.     Yet  they  can  hardly  be  faid  to  have  a  general  fable. 

[c]  See  Note  vm.  on  Chap.  xiir. 

*'  humour 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  125 

*'  humour  of  one  confifls  in  grofs  expreffions,  but  that  of  the  other  arifes 
**  rather  from  ambiguous  language  [d]."     It  might  indeed  be  objedted, 

*  that  the  middle  comedy  is  here  defigned  under  the  name  of  the  new 

*  comedy  [e];  for  before  the  new  comedy  arofe  the  middle  comedy 

*  would  neceffarily  have  that  appellation.     It  might  farther  be  added, 

*  that  Ariftotle  died  in  the  fame  olympiad  in  which  Menander  produced 

*  his  firft  piece,  and  even  in  the  year  before.  (Eufebius  in  Chronico  ad 

*  Olymp.  C.  XIV.  4.)     But  we  are  wrong  in  dating  the  new  comedy 

*  from  Menander  only ;  he  was  the  firft  poet  of  that  age  of  comedy  as 

*  to  poetical  excellence,  but  not  as  to  time.     Philemon,  who  belonged 

*  to  it,  wrote  fome  time  before,  and  the  tranfition  from  the  middle  to  the 

*  new  comedy,  was  fo  imperceptible,  that  it  is  impoffible  Ariftotle  could 

*  have  wanted  models.'     Dramaturgie,  vol.  ii,  page  173  note. 

Mr.  Cumberland  in  his  account  of  the  Greek  comic  theatre,  for  which 
the  republic  of  letters  is  much  indebted  to  him,  obferves  of  Philemon, 

*  that  he  was  fome  years  elder  than  Menander,  and  no  unworthy  rival  of 

*  that  poet.'  (Obferver,  No.  138.)  From  the  fragments  of  the  middle 
comedy,  frequently  quoted  in  the  fame  work,  it  appears,  that  fo  far  from 
being  devoted  to  indecency  and  buffoonry,  that  fpecies  of  the  drama 
abounded  in  paflages  inculcating  the  nobleft  precepts  of  morality.  But 
the  deduction  of  Mr.  Cumberland  from  this  [f],  that  Ariftotle  has  not 
given  ajuft  charadler  of  comedy  as  it  ftood  in  his  time,  by  faying  '  it  is 

[dI    'IJ'oj  (J''  oiv  Ti;  xai  ejc  tuk  yMfi.uSiuu  ruv  -sraXaiuv  xaj  twi*  kcai/uh.      To";  jitsi/  yap  •},)> 
yi'ho'iov  ri  ccKj^poXoylci,  roig  Si  jAoiWov  «'  uttokjios.      Ethic.  L.  IV.  Cap.  XIV. 

[e]  The  name  appears  of  little  confequence  as  the  difference  is  fo  ftrongly  marked  in  the 
quotation. 

[f]  Observer,  No.  72. 

*  a  pidlure 


126  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  v. 

*  a  pidlure  of  human  nature  worfe  and  more  deformed  than  the  original," 
feems  to  a.rife  from  a  miftake  as  to  the  idea  intended  to  be  conveyed  by 
the  word  worse,  confidered  in  a  poetical  light.  As  Ariftotle  does  not 
require  the  perfons  of  tragedy  to  be  better  in  a  moral  view,  but  only  in  the 
fenfe  explained  in  note  i.  on  chap.  ii.  fo  the  charad:ers  in  comedy,  on 
which  its  poetical  diflinftion  depends,  are  not,  according  to  the  obferva- 
tion  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  to  be  worfe  than  thofe  of  the  prefent 
time,  as  to  depravity  in  general,  but  only  to  be  more  uniformly  charged 
with  thofe  qualities  calculated  to  excite  laughter  than  is  ufually,  or  indeed 
ever  met  with  in  real  life.  That  Achilles  never  faid  an  abfurd  thing,  or 
Therfites  never  afted  wifely,  or  ferioully,  is  out  of  common  probability ; 
but  the  poet  who  introduces  thefe  perfons,  or  charaders  refembling 
them,  on  the  tragic,  or  comic  fcene,  would  fruftrate  his  own  purpofe  if 
he  fhewed  an  inftance  of  ridiculous  abfurdity  in  Achilles,  or  ferious  rea- 
foning  in  Therfites  ;  and  in  this  fenfe,  one  is  drawn  better,  and  the  other 
worfe  than  human  nature  in  general  [g].  I  believe  this  rule  is  obferved 
by  every  tolerable  dramatic  poet,  without  any  notion  of  ading  according 
to  the  precepts  of  the  Stagirite.  But  though  this  is  the  general  diflinc- 
tion  of  the  two  provinces  of  the  drama,  it  does  not  follow  but  there  m.ay 
be  fome  charadlers  in  comedy  not  deftitute  of  tragic  dignity,  as  there 
were  evidently  parts  of  the  Greek  tragedy  which  had  not  only  a  comic  but 
even  a  burlefque  caft.  Shakefpear  has  not  only  blended  tragedy  and 
comedy  in  the  fame  piece,  but  he  often  introduces  a  flroke  of  humour 
in  a  grave,  though  never  I  believe  in  a  pathetic  fcene;  and  a  trait  of  dig- 
nity in  a  ridiculous,  fcene.  But  he  always  preferves  the  propriety  of 
character.  In  the  field  at  Shrewfbury,  when  Worcefler  and  Vernon 
come  to  the  king's  camp  juil:  before  the  battle,  he  introduces  a  ridiculous 
farcafm  on  Worcefler's  excufing  his  rebellion  as  involuntary,  but  he  puts. 

[g]  See  Note  ij  Chap,  xv, 

it 


Note  ri.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  127 

-ii  in  the  mouth  of  Falftaff  [h].  And  in  the  tavern  at  Eaftcheap  the  Prince 
of  Wales  recoUeds  the  impropriety  of  his  conduft,  at  fo  critical  a  period, 
and  [i]  blames  himfelf  with  great  fpirit  and  dignity;  but  no  fuch  reflec- 
tion is  uttered  by  any  other  of  the  party.  Yet  though  Shakefpear  has 
avoided  this  confufion  of  charadler,  it  would  be  the  abfurdeft  partiality 
to  deny,  that  the  mixing  the  ferious  and  the  comic,  in  one  piece,  tends 
to  deftroy  the  efficacy  of  both,  and  is  therefore  a  fault.  That  the  ne- 
ceffity  of  committing  this  fault  was  impofed  on  him  by  the  tafte  of  the 
.public,  is  apparent,  from  the  pradice  of  all  the  cotemporary  writers,  and 
if  he  has  contrived  to  do  it  with  lefs  impropriety  than  othersj  it  furely  is 
no  fmall  degree  of  merit. 

However  faulty  the  praftice  of  tlie  age  of  Shakefpear  may  have  been 
in  this  refped:,  it  was  referved  for  the  next,  though  proud  of  their  en- 
creafing  refinement,  to  produce  that  monfter  of  the  drama,  the  regular 
tragi-comedy ;  where  two  diftindl  fables,  the  one  diflrefsful,  the  other 
ridiculous,  were  carried  on  together ;  not  only  violating  the  unity  of 
adlion,  but  making  fo  abfurd  a  mixture  of  forrow  and  mirth,  that  as 
Addifon  obferves,  a  poet  might  as  well  think  of  weaving  the  adventures 

[h]  '  Rebellion  lay  in  his  way  and  he  found  it.' Ift  Part  Hen.  iv.  A£l  v.  Sc.  i. 

See  Note  vir,  Ch.  xiii. 

[i]  *  By  heaven,  Poins,  I  feel  me  much  to  blame, 
'So  idly  to  prof.ine  the  precious  time, 

*  When  temped  of  commotion  like  the  North, 
'  Borne  with  black  vapour,  doth  begin  to  melt 

*  And  drop  upon  our  bare  unarmed  heads. 
•*  Give  me  my  fword  and  cloak.' 

lid  Part  Hen.  iv.  Aft  11.  Sc.  ir. 

of 


128  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  v. 

of  JEnezs  and  [k]  Hudibras  into  one  poem.  This  comic  under-plot, 
was  not  confined  to  the  plays  of  Dryden  which  end  happily,  as  the 
Spanifh  Friar,  Love  Triumphant,  and  Marriage  Alamode  j  but  it  alfo 
mixed  with  the  deep  pathos  of  the  Fatal  Marriage,  Venice  Preferved,  and 
Oroonoko.  The  error  of  Shakefpear  is  like  that  of  Homer,  in  introduc- 
ing Therfites  in  a  ferious  poem,  but  the  tragi-comedy  refembles  the 
Iliad  and  Margites,  mixed  together. 

The  following  obfervatlon  of  Lord  Kaims,  in  his  Sketches  of  the  Hif- 
tory  [l]  of  man,  having  fome  relation  to  this  fubjeft,  I  fhall  cite  it  with  a 
fhort  remark.  '  Nothing  is  more  evident  than  the  fuperiority  of  Terence 

*  above  Plautus  in  the  art  of  writing  -,  and  confidering  that  Terence  is  a 

*  later  writer,  nothing  would  appear  more  natural,  if  they  did  not  copy 

*  the  fame  originals.     It  may  be  owing  to  genius  that  Terence  excelled 

*  in  purity  of  language,  and  propriety  of  dialogue  ;  but  how  account  for 

*  his  fuperiority  over  Plautus  in  the  conftruclion  and  conduct  of  a  play? 

*  It  will  not  certainly  be  thought  that  Plautus  would  imitate  the  worft 

*  conftrudled  plays,  leaving  the  beft  to  thofe  who  fhould  come  after 
'  him.  Tills  difficulty  has  not  occurred  to  any  of  the  commentators,  fo 
'  far  as  I  can  recolk(5l.  Had  the  works  of  Menander  and  his  cotempo- 
'  raries  been  preferved,  they  probably  would  have  explained  the  myftery; 

*  which  for  want  of  that  light  will  probably  remain  a  myfteiy  for  ever.' 
I  own  I  can  perceive  no  myftery  at  all  in  this.  It  did  not  depend  on  the 
taile  of  Plautus,  or  Terence,  but  on  the  tafte  of  the  Roman  people  when 
they  wrote.     Plautus  compofed  for  the  public  at  large,  who  were  befl 

[k]  Imoinda  and  the  Widow  Lackit,  JafEer  and  Antonio,  are  more  difcordant  charadters, 
both  in  manners  and  action,  than  ^neas  and  Hudibras. 

[l]  Book  I.  Sketch  v.  Sed.  2. 

pleafed 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  129 

pleafed  with  the  broader  humour  of  the  earher  Greek  comedy.  Terence 
wrote  at  a  later  period  and  under  the  patronage  of  Scipio,  and  the  [m] 
mild  Lsehus,  whofe  more  refined  tafte  preferred  the  infipid  elegance  of 
Menander.  Shakefpear  was  guilty  of  the  fame  error  in  judgement,  if  it 
was  one.  It  appears  from  the  account  of  thofe  claffic  writers  which  were 
tranflated  in  his  time,  that  the  Menaechmi  of  Plautus,  and  the  Andrian 
of  Terence,  were  both  before  him,  and  we  know  which  he  chofe  for  a 
model.  As  for  the  fuperiority  of  Terence  over  Plautus  In  any  refpedt 
except  beauty  of  language,  it  remains  to  be  proved,  and  perhaps  is  no 
more  capable  of  proof,  than  the  fuperior  excellence  of  the  modern  fenti- 
mental  comedy  to  thofe  lefs  regular  dramas,  Twelfth  Night  and  As  You 
Like  It.  Were  the  plays  of  the  two  Roman  comic  poets  to  be  clothed 
in  an  Englifh  drefs,  and  performed  before  an  Engli(l:i  audience,  near  the 
clofe  of  the  eighteenth  century,  by  no  means  furely  an  age  or  a  country 
of  barbarifm,  I  have  little  doubt  of  the  judgement  being  in  favor  of  the 
elder  poet.  To  return  more  particularly  to  the  difficulty  fuggefled  by 
Lord  Kaims.  It  mufl  be  remembered  that  the  poems  of  Homer  were 
equally  open  to  Ennius  and  Lucretius,  as  to  Virgil ;  and  yet  the  laft  is 
the  firft  Roman  poet  who  imitated,  I  had  almoft  faid  tranflated,  the 
works  of  the  father  of  poetry.  Of  the  comedies  of  Menander'  we  caa 
only  judge  through  the  medium  of  Terence,  whofe  dramas,  to  me,  have 
neither  humour  nor  intereft,  nor  indeed  any  other  merit  than  their  ftyle, 
'  which,'  (to  ufe  words  applied,  perhaps  with  rather  too  much  feverity 
to  Virgil,  by  a  very  ingenious  though  eccentric  writer)  '  is  pure  and  ex- 

*  quifite,  and  is  the  pickle  that  has  preferved  his  mummy  from  cor- 

*  ruption  [n].' 

[m]  '  Mitis  fapientia  LaelL*  HoR. 

[n]  Heron's  Letters  of  Literature, 

S  NOTE 


150  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  v. 


NOTE    in. 

TRAGEDY  ENDEAVOURS  AS  MUCH  AS  POSSIBLE  TO  CONFINE  ITSELF 
TO  ONE  REVOLUTION  OF  THE  SUN,  OR  ONLY  TO  EXCEED  IT  A 
LITTLE. 

FROM  this  plain  dire6lion,  the  critics  of  the  French  fchool,  and 
efpecially  Dacier,  have  deduced  that  the  adlion  fhould  not  exceed  the 
exadl  time  of  reprefentation,  and  have  found  out  that  one  [o]  period  or 
revolution  of  the  fun  comprifes  twelve  hours,  which  would  be,  at  leafl, 
four  times  that  length.  That  people  urged  by  fuperflition,  or  worfe 
motives,  fliould  wi(h  to  give  the  moft  abfurd  and  contradi<5lory  fenfe  to 
plain  and  obvious  paffages  in  writings  of  facred  authority,  to  fupport  their 
own  iyftems,  when  we  confider  the  force  of  enthufiafm  and  ambition,  is 
more  to  be  lamented  than  wondered  at.  But  fuch  a  ftrange  perverfion 
of  common  fenfe,  to  juflify  a  dramatic  prejudice,  is  at  once  an  objeft  of 
furprize  and  ridicule.  If  the  pradlice  of  the  Greek  tragedy  had  been 
always  in  ftrid:  conformity  with  this  rule  of  the  French  critics,  there 
would  have  been  fome  fliadow  of  reafon  for  their  trying  to  accommodate 
this  precept  of  Ariftotle  to  the  cuflom  of  the  ancient  flage  ;  but  on  the 
contrary,   the  [p]  Greek  tragedians  often  affume  a  greater  latitude  thari 

[o]  Mlav  zriploSov  u'Ai'if.     See  note  11,  chap.  vii.  for  fome  further  obfervatlons  on  Ariftotle's 
definition  of  the  unity  of  time. 

[p]  For  examples  of  the  violation  of  the  unities  of  time  and  place,  (Ariftotle  fays  nothing 
of  the  laft)  by  the  Greek  dramatic  poets,  the  curious  reader  is  referred  to  Metastasio's  Es* 

TRATTO    DELLA    PoETICA  D'ArISTOTLE.      See    alfo   ELEMENTS    OF    CRITICISM,   Chap. 

xxiii.  pailim. 

the 


Note  III.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  131 

the  rule  laid  down  by  Ariftotle,  or  even  the  nature  of  the  thing  itfelf 
will  juflify. 

The  words  of  Dacier,  on  the  fuppofed  invariable  adherence  of  the 
ancients  to  this  ftrifb  unity  of  time,  are  thefe.     *  They  have  made  it  fo 

*  indifpenfible  a  law,  that  to  avoid  violating  it  they  have  fometimes 

*  done  violence  to  the  incidents.'  Which  Mr.  Twining  obferves  is  in 
fa<5t  faying,  '  that  they  have  fo  fcrupuloufly  adhered  to  the  rule,  that 
'  fometimes,  for  the  fake  of  obferving  it,  they  have  been  obliged  to 

*  break  it.'  But  they  have  done  much  more,  there  is  a  unity  of  time 
marked  by  nature,  the  breach  of  which  deftroys  the  probability  of  every 
fictitious  tale  whatever,  either  narrative  or  dramatic.  I  may  conceive 
days,  and  months,  and  years,  to  have  pafTed  during  an  interval  in  a  re- 
prefentation,  which  I  know  to  be  a  reprefentation,  and  not  a  reality ;  but 
every  fliadow  of  probability  vanifhes,  and  we  are  inftantly  difgufted, 
either,  when  without  any  interruption  of  the  adlion  during  a  dialogue  of 
fix  minutes,  fix  hours  are  fuppofed  to  have  elapfed,  or,  (which  is  nearly 
the  fame  thing,)  when  the  fpace  of  time  occupied  by  the  drama  is  exadlly 
defined,  and  then  incidents  are  crouded  into  it  which  could  not  pofiibly 
have  happened  in  that  fpace  [q^]. 


[qJ]  This  abfurdity  is  well  defcribed  by  M.  Lefllng.     '  Do  not  you  admire  the  conduct  ot' 

*  the  piece  ?  it  is  in  general  fo  complicated  that  it  would  be  a  miracle  if  fo  many  thinc^s  had 

*  happened  in  fo  fhort  a  time.     The  ruin  or  prefervation  of  an  empire,  the  marriage  of  a  pf  in- 

*  Gefs,  the  deftruftion  of  a  prince,  all  this  is  executed  in  the  twiniding  of  an  eye.     The  affair 

*  is  opened  in  the  firft  a£t,  it  is  connefted  and  ftrengthened  in  the  fecond,  every  meafure  is 

*  taken,  every  obftacle  removed,  and  the  coirfpirators  arranged  in  the  third,  then  follows  a  re- 

*  volt,  a  fight,  perhaps  a  pitched  battle,  and  this  you  callcondud,  iatereft,  fir-e,  and  probability.' 
Dramaturgie,  Vol.  i.  p.  139. 

S  2  In 


132  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  v. 

In  the  ancient  drama,,  where  the  adtion  was  never  interrupted,  and  the 
ftage  continually  occupied  by  the  chorus,  1  muft  thinic  that  probabihty 
is  really  in  fome  meafure  violated  when  the  fuppofed  time  of  adlion  is  at 
all  extended  beyond  the  aftual  time  of  reprefentation.  Of  this  the  fap- 
pliants  of  Euripides  afford  us  a  flriking  inftance.  Thefeus  marches 
from  Athens  to  Thebes,  gains  a  complete  vidlory,  and  a  meffenger  returns 
to  give  an  account  of  the  battle,  during  a  fhort  lyric  dialogue  between 
his  mother  JEthm  and  the  Chorus.  I  appeal  to  any  unprejudiced  judge 
if  the  conduct  of  Shakefpear,  who  moft  likely  would  have  tranfported  us 
to  Thebes,  and  made  us  fpedtators  of  the  battle,  has  any  thing  fo  really 
contrary  to  probability  as  this,  or  if  any  thing  can  be  more  unreafonable 
than  the  rules  of  thofe  critics,  who,  becaufe  Ariflotle  allowed  the  period 
of  twenty-four  hours,  or  a  little  longer,  to  a  drama  without  intervals, 
would,  on  that  very  authority,  confine  a  drama  with  intervals  to  three 
hours  [s]. 


[s]  Le  Pere  Brumoy,  though  a  ftaunch  advocate  for  the  dbft'rine  of  the  French  fchool  as  to 
the  rio-id  obfervance  of  the  unity  of  time,  has  this  mitigating  fentence,  '-  As  the  refemblance  be^ 
'  tween  the  drama  and  nature  cannot  be  always  fo  exaift  as  not  to  admit  fome  difference  in  fa- 
«  vor  of  the  beauties  of  art,  even  art,  to  avail  itfelf  of  thefe  beauties,  may  deceive  the  fpedlator, 

*  and  reprefent  an  aftion  whofe  duration  comprehends  eight  or  ten  hours,  although  the  drama 

*  employs  only  two  or  three.'  Now  though  the  Pere  Brumoy  mentions  particular  periods  of 
time  in  which  the  dramatic  fable,  on  certain  great  occafions,  may  exceed  the  dramatic  repre- 
fentation, as  we  camiot  fuppofe  he  mentions  eight  or  ten  hours  in  contradiftindion  to  nine  and 
eleven,  his  meaning  muft  be,  that  this  rule  may  be  broken  when  the  obfervation  of  it  ceafes  ta 
beneceflary,and  that  truth  and  general  probability  arc  the  only  proper  judges  of  this  law,fmcc-, 
as  Horace  allows, 

'  Utor  permiffo,  caudasque  pilos  ut  equinae 

*  Paulatim  vello,  et  demo  unum,  demo  etiam  unum.* 

But 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  133 

But  though  the  modern  drama,  from  the  breaks  in  the  reprefentation-, 
by  the  divifion  of  afts  and  change  of  fcene,  has  not  its  duration  marked 
out  by  the  nature  of  its  compofition,  yet  if  the  period  of  time  is  defined 
by  any  circumflance  whatever,  and  events  are  fuppofed  to  happen  in  that 
period,  which  it  is  either  phyfically  or  morally  impoffible  could  have 
happened,  tlae  error  is  againfl  truth  and  nature,  and  not  only  againft  the 
arbitrary  or  the  reafonable  laws  of  the  drama;  and,  it  mufl  be  confefled, 
we  fometimes  find  our  own  inimitable  dramatic  Bard  erring  in  this 
refped:.  The  tragedy  of  King  Lear  will  furnilh  an  inllance  of  this  kind 
of  error.  In  the  fecond  adl,  Lear  comes  in,  with  all  his  train,  to  Regan 
at  Glocefter's  caftle,  having  been  recently  affronted  by  Goneril.  From 
the  circumflance  of  the  florm  continuing,  it  is  obvious  that  the  interval 
between  the  fecond  and  third  ad:,  does  not  comprehend  a  period  of  time, 
much  exceeding  that  which  really  pafles,  and  the  eyes  of  Glocefter  are 
put  out  on  the  fame  night,  jufl  as  he  had  relieved  the  old  king  on  the 
heath  ;  yet  in  this  time  we  hear,  *  there  is  part  of  a  power  already  footed 

*  to  revenge  the  injuries  the  king  now  bears  ;'  and  Cornwall  fays,   '  the 

*  army  of  France  is  now  landed.'  This  rule  of  natural  unity  is  equally 
effential  to  the  drama,  the  epopee,  the  fable,  and  the  tale  ;■  it  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  mofl  ftriking  flights  of  improbability.  If  a  writer  puts 
his  hero  on  a  magic  courfer  that  can. 

*  Put  a  girdle  round  about  the  earth 

*  In  forty  minutes,' 

it  Is  no  offence  againfl  this  rule ;  but  it  would  be  a  great  one  to  make  an 
army  march  from  London  to  Edinburgh  in  one  night. 

I  have  fomewhere  met  with  an  obfervation,  that  the  time  of  the  re- 
prefentation and  the  fable,  in  the  tragedy  of  Cato,  might  have  been  made 

exadly 


134  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  v. 

exadlly  equal,  and  the  ftrid:eft  rule  of  dramatic  unity  obferved,  had  not 
Addifon  cholcn,  wantonly,  to  violate  it  by  opening  the  play  with  a  de- 
fcription  of  the  morning ;  and  making  Juba  fay  of  Caefar's  army,  in  the 
lafl:  aa. 


The  fetting  fun 


*  Plays  on  their  fhining  arms  and  burnifli'd  helmets.' 

Addifon  certainly  was  not  obliged  to  mark  the  time  in  this  manner;  but 
whether  he  had  or  not,  it  muft  have  been  impoffible  to  conceive  the 
bufmefs  of  the  play  could  have  been  tranfadted  in  a  fliorter  time,  than 
between  fun-rife  and  fun-fet,  in  the  longell  day,  at  Utica. 

Of  the  unity  of  place,  it  has  already  been  obferved,  Ariftotle  fays 
nothing.  However,  it  is  flrongly  connected  with  the  unity  of  time,  and 
depends  on  it :  I  mean  the  natural  unities ;  not  that  artificial  rule  of 
never  altering  the  fuppofed  fpot  of  reprefentation  [t],  becaufe  the  Greek 
theatre  never  changed  its  fcenes,  which  is  about  as  reafonable  as  it  would 
be  not  to  wear  fliirts  becaufe  the  ancients  had  no  linen.  During  the 
continuance  of  the  aflion,  or  when  the  exa6t  time  is  otherwife  defined, 
no  greater  change  of  place  can  be  fuppofed,  than  what  might  probably 
happen  in  fuch  a  period  [u]. 

But  it  may  poflibly  be  afked,  though  the  Mufe  of  Shakefpear  has 
ventured  to  '  pafs  the  bounds  of  time  and  fpace,'  and  therefore  a  change 
of  fcene  is  neceffary  for  the  reprefentation  of  his  dramas ;  yet  as  no 

[t]  See  note  i,  chap.  xvii. 

[u]  For  a  further  illuftration  of  this,  fee  the  application  of  the  unities  to  the  epopee,  note 
II,  chap.  xxiv.     See  alfo  Philological  Enquiries,  page  218. 

modern 


Note  III.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  135 

modern  poet  ventures  to  extend  his  length  of  time  beyond  the  period 
prefcribed  by  Ariftotle,  why  may  not  the  ftridl  unity  of  place  be  obferved 
on  the  Englidi  ftage,  as  well  as  on  the  French  ftage  ?  Perhaps  it 
might  be  a  fufficient  anfwer  to  this,  to  fiy,  the  [v]  tafte  of  the  Englifli 
demands  this  change  of  fcenes,  but  I  will  not  reft  my  defence  of  the 
practice  of  our  ftage  on  this,  or  on  the  fuperiority  of  the  theatrical  deco- 
ration from  a  variety  of  well  painted  [w]  fcenes,  but  from  the  fuperior 
probability  of  the  play,  and  the  removal  of  one  great  and  unfurmount- 
able,  or,  at  leaft,  as  yet  unfurmounted  difficulty  attending  the  ftrid:  ob- 
fervance  of  the  unity  of  place,  the  bringing  in  and  fending  out  the  cha- 
ra«5lers  with  propriety.  And  I  chufe  to  do  this,  in  the  words  of  a  writer, 
who  cannot  be  influenced  by  national  prejudices,  in  favour  of  either  the 
French  or  Englifh  theatre  [x].     *  To  confefs  the  truth,  the  Engliili, 

[v]  Of  the  tafte  of  the  Englifli  in  this  refpe(S,  the  following  anecdote  is  a  ftriking  proof. 

•  In  the  play  of  Phsedra  and  Hippolytus,  the  author  has  obferved  the  unity  of  place  fo  well, 

•  that  all  tlie  fcenes  are  exhibited  in  one  fpot,  in  an  outer  court  of  the  palace.     Mr.  Garrick 

*  faw  this  5  he  had  a  good  fcene  prepared,  and  it  ftood  the  whole  time  of  the  play.     The  ma- 

*  nager  was  right ;  critics  will  fay,  the  author  was  right,  but  the  audience  were  difgufted.' 
Hill's  Actor,  page  255.  However  much  the  manager  might  think  himfelf  in  the  right,  he 
found  it  prudent,  on  a  fubfequent  occafion,  to  change  his  condudl.  Mr.  Whitehead,  in  his 
School  for  Lovers,  obferved  the  ftridt  unity  of  place,  and  the  whole  a<5lion  pafles  in  a 
garden ;  but  Mr.  Garrick  introduced  a  change  of  fcene  in  the  reprefentation,  and  he  concludes 
his  prologue  to  the  comedy,  after  fome  humorous  obfervations  on  the  tafte  of  the  audience  and 
the  perfeverance  of  the  poet,  with  thefe  lines : 

'  Still  he  perfifis — and  let  him — entre  nous 

'  I  know  your  taftes,  and  will  indulge  them  too. 

'  Change  you  fhall  have ;  fo  fet  your  hearts  at  eafe; 

'  Write  as  he  will,  we'll  act  it  as  you  pleafe.' 

[w]  See  note  v,  chap.  vi. 

[x]  Schlegel,  a  German  dramatic  poet,  cited  by  M.  Lefling  in  his  Dramaturgic,  vol.  i.  p.  215. 

who 


136  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  v. 

*  who  do  not  pride  themfelves  in  obferving  the  unity  of  place,  obferve 

*  it  for  the  moft  part  better  than  the  French,  who  boafl  fo  much  of 

*  their  flridl  adherence  to  the  rules  of  Ariftotle.     It  little  imports,  that 

*  the  decoration  of  the  fcene  does  not  change,   but  it  is  of  confequence 

*  that  the  reafon  fhouid  be  obvious  why  the  perfons  who  enter  Ihould 

*  find  themfelves  exadlly  in  that  given  fpot,  inftead  of  remaining  where 

*  they  were.     When  a  charader  behaves  as  the  inhabitant  and  mailer 

*  of  an  apartment,  where,  juft  before,  another  has  been  afTuming  the 

*  fame  appearance  of  authority,  and  talking  with  the  greateft  confiden- 

*  tial  freedom   to  his  friend,  without  its  being  brought  about  by  any 

*  probable  means ;  in  fliort,  when  the  charadiers  come  into  the  room, 

*  or  the  garden,  merely  to  appear  on  the  ftage,  the  author  of  the  tra- 

*  gedy  would  do  better,  inftead  of  writing,  "  the  fcene  is  in  the  chamber 
"  of   Climene,"    to  fay,     "  the    fcene   is    in    the    theatre."     Or,    to 

*  fpeak  feriouily,  it  certainly  would  be  more  reafonable,  if  the  author, 
'  according  to  the  Englifh  cuftom,  had  changed  the  fcene  from  one 

*  houfe  to  another,  and  condudled  the  fpedtator  to  the  hero,  inf:ead  of 
'  obliging  the  hero  to  appear  in  a  place  where  he  has  nothing  at  all  to 
'  do,  for  the  purpofe  of  amufmg  the  fjpedtator.' 

The  falfe  reafoning  of  the  French  critics,  and  their  followers  in  this 
country,  has  arifen  from  the  miftaken  notion  that  dramatic  imitation 
ever  was,  or  ever  could  be  a  real  deception.  We  are  affefted  by  the 
general  probability  of  the  incidents  arranged  by  the  poet,  in  fuch  a 
manner  as  to  render  the  impreffion  of  thofe  he  intends  fhouid  work  on 
the  pafTions,  m.oft  forcible,  by  foftening,  or  fupprefling,  every  circum- 
ftance  which  might  at  all  interfere  with  the  paflions  he  wifhes  to  excite; 
and  this,  when  accompanied  by  the  recitation  and  adlion  of  a  good 
player,  muft  have  the  ftrongeft  effect  on  the  fpedator ;  but  as  to  real 

deception, 


Note  III.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  137 

deception,  in  the  moft  empaffioned  fcene  of  Lear,  aded  by  Garrick,  it 
never  for  an  inftant  exifted.  The  means  of  imitation  were  always  appa- 
rent, or,   to  fpeak  in  the  language  of  a  late  commentator,    '   It  is  falfe 

*  that  any  reprefentation  is  miftaken  for  reality  ;  that  any  dramatic  fable, 

*  in  its  materiality,  was  ever  credible,  or,  for  a  fingle  moment,  was  ever 

*  credited  [b].' 

[e]  Dr.  Johnfon's  preface  to  Shakefpear. 


C  HA  P. 


138  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vi. 


CHAP.      VI. 

NOTE      I. 

TRAGEDY  IS  AN  IMITATION,  IN  ORNAMENTED  LANGUAGE,  OF 
AN  ACTION  IMPORTANT  AND  COMPLETE,  AND  POSSESSING  A 
CERTAIN  DEGREE  OF  MAGNITUDE,  HAVING  ITS  FORMS  DIS- 
TINCT IN  THEIR  RESPECTIVE  PARTS,  AND  BY  THE  REPRE- 
SENTATION OF  PERSONS  ACTING,  AND  NOT  BY  NARRATION, 
EFFECTING  THROUGH  THE  MEANS  OF  PITY  AND  TERROR, 
THE    PURGATION    OF     SUCH    PASSIONS. 

Various  and  contradldlory  have  been  the  explanations  given  by- 
different  commentators  of  this  celebrated  definition  of  tragedy ;  and  yet 
the  grand  objedl  it  propofes  to  have  in  view,  the  purgation  of  the  paf- 
fions  by  the  means  of  pity  and  terror,  and  how  thofe  means  operate  to 
attain  that  end,  or  whether,  in  fadl,  they  have  any  fuch  operation  at  all, 
has  received  little  elucidation  from  their  combined  enquiries.  To  en- 
tertain any  hope  of  fuccefs  where  fo  many  perfons  of  the  higheft  literary 
reputation  have  failed,  would  be  a  great  degree  of  prefumption.  I  fliall 
therefore  only  ilate,  with  all  the  diffidence  due  where  fo  little  is  cer- 
tainty, and  fo  much  conjcd:ure,  what  appears  to  me,  from  all  that  can 
be  collected  on  the  fubjedt,  the  real  notion  of  Ariftotle  as  to  the  means 
and  the  effed:  of  purging  the  paffions  ;  and  enquire  how  far  that  notion 
is  founded  in  nature  and  confirmed  by  experience  ;  allowing  for  the  lapfe 
of  time,  and  the  confequent  alteration  of  manners  and  opinions. 


Any 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  139 

Any  obfcurity  in  an  author,  efpecially  if  it  relates  to  bis  particular 
judgment  on  any  general  fubjedl  [a],  will  be  moft  likely  to  receive  light 
from  comparifon  with  his  other  works,  of  which  our  critic  has  left.us 
an  ample  ftore.  Indeed,  thefe  have  been  To' long,  and  To  univerfally,  the 
objeds  of  fcholaftic  difquifition,  that  one  fliould  have  imagined  every 
correfpondent,  and  every  difcordant  pafTage,  would  have  long  fince  been 
collated  and  examined.  But  as  M.  Leffing  (who  ftrongly  [b]  recom- 
mends this  method  of  illuflration,)  obferves,  their  purfuits  were  very 
different  from  the  inveftigation  of  elegant  literature.  Thofe  writings 
of  the  Stagirite  which,  at  the  prefent  time,  are  the  principal  fubjeds  of 
enquiry,  and  efpecially  the  Poetic,  had  little  to  engage  the  attention  of 
men  devoted  to  the  ftudy  of  logic  and  metaphyfics  :  and,  perhaps,  there 
are  few  of  thofe  whofe  turn  of  mind  induces  them  to  make  the  treatife 
before  us  the  particular  objed  of  their  attention,  who  would  have  the 
patience  and  perfeverance,  to  go  through  the  various  and  voluminous 
works  of  Ariftotle,  which  treat  of  matters  fo  foreign  to  their  tafte. 
There  is  one  treatife,  however,  on  a  congenial  fubjed,  (the  Rhetoric) 
which  throws  light  on  the  imperfed  and  mutilated  flate  of  the  Poetic  in 
a  hundred  inftances. 

But  the  prefent  fubjed  of  our  enquiry  receives  moft  elucidation  from 
a  work  where  we  fhould  lefs  exped  to  find  it.  The  philofopher  [c], 
in  his  treatife  on  government,  fpeaking  of  the  power  of  mufic  to  foften 
and  alleviate  the  paffions,  fays  ;   *  Whatever  paffions  have  a  ftrong  effed 

[a]  In  regard  to  verbal  obfcurity,  this  will  often  be  fallacious.  Ariftotle  has  frequently 
employed  the  fame  word  in  different  fenfes,  even  in  this  fhort  fketch.     See  note  hi.  eh.- 1. 


[b]  Dramaturgie,  Vol.  11.  p.  ir. 

[c]  Politic,  1.  viii.  chap.  vii. 


T  2 


I40  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vi. 

*  on  any  minds,  will  have  fome  cffttt  on  all,  and  they  will  only  differ 

*  in  degree.      Such  paffions,  for  example,  as  pity  and  terror,  to  which 

*  we  may  add  enthufiafm,  an  affecflion  of  the  mind  with  which  fome 

*  men  are  violently  poffeffed.     Now  we  fee  this  laft,  when  thofe  facred 

*  melodies  which  accompany  the  celebration  of  the  myflic  rights  are 
'  performed,  is  foothed  and  quieted,  as  if  it  were  by  medicine  or  pufga- 

*  tion ;  and  the  fime  thing  will  happen   to  thofe  who  are  liable  to  the 

*  impreffions  of  pity  or  terror,  or  whofe  paffions   in  general  are  eafily 

*  excited,  and  others  indeed  as  far  as  they  may  be  under  the  influence  of 

*  fuch  paffions.     They  will  all  feel  a  kind  of  purgation,  or  unburthen- 

*  ing  of  the  mind,  accompanied  by  fome  degree  of  pleafure.' 

Arlftotle  is  treating  here  only  of  the  purgation  of  the  paffions,  as 
eifedled  by  mufic,  and  [d]  which  he  profefles  to  explain  in  a  flight  and 
fuperficial  manner,  with  a  promife  to  be  more  explicit  in  his  writings 
on  poetry  :  if  this  promife  has  ever  been  fulfilled,  it  is  generally  fup- 
pofed  it  muft  have  been  in  fome  of  thofe  parts  of  his  criticifm  on  poetry 
which  are  loft.  But  [e]  M.  Leffing  is  of  opinion,  that  it  is  compleatly 
fulfilled  in  the  Poetic,  as  we  now  have  it.     If  this  is   the  cafe,   I  have 

[u]  Ti  St  Xiyojji.iv  TYiv  xa'Sccpo-ii/,  i-u!/  fj-h  AnAIlS,  TraAip  S'  iv  roi(  w£pi  IIOIHTIKHS 
IpoZi^iv  2A$E2TEPON. 

[e]  '  Ariftotle,  at  the  conclufion  of  his  Treatife  on  Government,  where  he  fpeaks  of  the 
«  purgation  of  the  paffions  by  mufic,  promifes  to  treat  of  this  purgation  with  more  perfpicuity  in 
'  his  Poetic.  "  But  (Corncille  fays,)  fince  we  fee  nothing  at  all  of  this  matter  there,  moft  of  the 
"  interpreters  think,  that  we  have  it  not  complete."     Nothing  at  all  ?     For  my  part  I  think 

*  that  I  find,  even  in  what  remains  of  the  Poetic,  every  thing  that  he  could  confider,  as  ne- 

*  ceflary  to  fay  on  the  fubjeft  to  any  one  who  was  not  ignorant  of  the  principles  of  his  philo- 

'  fophy.' 

Dramaturcie,  Vol.  II.  p.  28. 

only 


Note  t.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  141 

tohly  to  lament  my  own  ill  fortune  in  not  finding  it ;  or  my  ftupidity  in 
not  comprehending  it. 

The  above  quotation,  from  the  Treatife  on  Goverrimeiit,  however, 
if  it  does  not  itfelf  receive  much  illuflration  from  this,  or  any  other 
part  of  the  Poetic  now  extant,  feems  to  throw  fome  light  on  the  paffage 
under  cohfideration,  ahd  affords  fome  clue  for  the  difcovery  of  what 
Ariftotle  means  by  purging  the  paffions.  His  example  of  the  enthufiafi 
having  his  mind  relieved  by  founds  congenial,  though  in  a  milder  de- 
gree, v/ith  his  own  more  violent  feelings,  leads  us  to  fuppofe,  that  he 
conceives  the  exceffive,  habitual  effedls  of  pity  and  terror,  and  other 
paflions  of  the  fame  kind  [f],  may  alfo  be  alleviated  by  exciting  them 
in  a  more  moderate  degree,  through  the  apparently  fidlitious  means  of 
dramatic  imitation. 

Mr.  Harris  [g],  perhaps,  carries  the  efficacy  of  tragic  imitation  a 
little  too  far,  when  he  fuppofes  it  capable  of  blunting  the  feelings,  by 
frequent  reprefentation  of  fcenes  of  terror  and  diflrefs,  in  the  way  the 
realities  adt  on  military  men,  phyficians,  and  furgeons.  Yet,  however, 
much  allowance  mufl  be  made  for  the  difference  of  manners,  and  habits. 
The  drama  might  have  had  an  effedl  on  the  people  of  Athens,  who 
jiiade  an  attendance  on  the  theatre  almofl  the  bufinels  of  their  lives, 

[f]  Ariftotle  confines  this  efFed  to  pity  and  terror,  and  afFedions  of  the  fame  kind  (among 
which  he  includes  enthufiafm,)  in  exprefs  words,  ufing  twk  rot^Tui/,  in  both  places.  Such 
paflions  as  love  and  anger,  are  enilamed  inftead  of  foftened  by  the  fame  means. 

[g]  Difcourfe  on  Mufic,  Poetry,  and  Painting,  chap.  v.  note  c. 

which 


142  A  COMiMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vr. 

which  we  can  have  no  idea  of;    *  We  know  (fays  M.  Leffing  [h])  to 

*  what  a  degree  the  Greeks  and  Romans  carried  their  paflion  for  public 

*  fpedlacles,  and  the  firft  more  efpecially  for  tragedy  j  and,  on  the  con- 

*  trary,  how  indifferent  and  cold  our  people  are  in  regard  to  the  theatre^ 

*  Whence  arifes  this  difference,  if  not  from  the  Greeks  finding  them- 

*  felves  affe(fted  with  fuch  ftrong  and  extraordinary  [i]  feelings,  during 

*  the  reprefentation,  that  they  waited  with  tranfport  the  moment  of 
'  their  return  ?  On  the  contrary,  the  impreffions  we  receive  at  the 
'  theatre  are  fo  trivial,  and  fo  weak,  that  we  fcarcely  effeem  them  worth 

*  the  time  and  expence  it  cofts  to  procure  them.     We  almoft  all,  and 

*  almoft  always  go,  either  from  curiolity,  or  becaufe  it  is  the  fafhion,  or 

*  for  want  of  fomething  elfe  to  do,  or  for  the  fake  of  company,  or  to 

*  fee  and  be  feen ;  very  few  go  with  other  views,  and  thofe  but  feldom.' 

[h]  Though  M.  Leffing  fpeaks  of  the  Germans,  it  is  full  as  applicable  to  the  people  of 
this  country.  Indeed,  he  himfelf  adds,  'I  fay  we,  our  people,  our  theatre,  but  I  do  not 
'  mean  to  be  underftood  as  fpeaking  only  of  the  Germans.     For  we  freely  acknowledge  that 

*  as  yet  we  have  no  theatre.' 

[i]  This  muft  have  arifen  from  the  fenfibility  of  the  people,  rather  than  the  fuperior  effe£t 
of  the  drama.  The  fatire  of  M.  Leffing  is  directed  againft  the  infipidity  of  the  French  tra- 
gedy ;  for  he  puts  the  Greek  and  Englilh  ftage  together,  and  clafies  Shakcfpear  with  Euri- 
pides and  Sophocles  :  and  yet  it  is  impoffible  for  any  people  to  be  lefs  interefted  in  the  amufe- 
ments  of  the  theatre  than  we  are.  The  truth  feems  to  be,  that  the  conftant  attendance  o£ 
the  Athenian  people  on  the  theatre,  arofe  from  the  fplendor  of  the  exhibition,  and  its  being 
at  the  public  charge ;  and  that  the  fuperior  effe£t  of  the  reprefentation  on  their  minds,  was  the 
confequence,  not  the  caufe,  of  their  ftrong  attachment  to  tragic  imitation.  The  Romans 
were,  as  M.  Leffing  allows,  equally  attached  to  fpe£tacles,  though  of  another  kind  j  and  yet 
they  have  never  been  particularly  charadlerized  for  ftrong  and  extraordinary  feelings  j  nor 
were  their  favourite  exhibitions  calculated  to  excite  them. 


It 


Note  r-  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  143 

It  remains  now  to  enquire  how  far  our  paffions  are  really  blunted  or 
foftened,  by  being  excited  in  a  fainter  degree,  through  the  fictions  of 
tragedy.  Or  whether,  on  the  contrary,  they  are  not,  at  leafl:  fometimes, 
rather  heightened  and  enflamed  by  them.  Indeed,  this  was  a  point  at 
ifliie  in  the  time  of  Ariftotle,  and  had,  before  him,  been  decided  con- 
trary to  his  opinion,  by  Plato,  who  banifhed  poets  from  his  republic  on 
this  account.  His  expreffion  on  this  head  I  fhall  give  in  the  words  of 
M.  Twining's  tranflation,  together  with  his  obfervation  on  it  [k]. 
"  The  habit  of  indulging  our  paffions,  in  the  concerns  of  others,  will, 
**  of  neceffity,  bring  on  the  fame  habitual  indulgence  in  thofe  which 
"  relate  to  ourfelves  :  for  he  who  has  nouriflied  and  ftrengthened  to 
"  excefs,  the  paffion  of  pity  for  example,  by  habitual  fympathy  with 
**  the  misfortunes  of  others,  will  not  find  it  eafy  to  reflrain  the  fame 
"  kind  of  feelings  in  his  own."     *  To  this  objedlion  there  cannot  be  a 

*  more   diredl  and  pointed  anfwer  than  Ariftotle's  aflertion,  as  ufually 

*  underftood,  that  the  habit  of  indulging  the  emotions  of  pity  or  terror, 

*  in  the  fictitious  reprefentations  of  tragedy,  tends,  on  the  contrary,  to 
'  moderate  and  refine  thofe  paffions  when  they  occur  in  real  life.' 

Twining's  Notes  on  Aristotle,  note  45,  p.  240. 

That  this  dodlrine  of  Ariftotle  is  intended  as  an  anfwer  to  the  objec- 
tion of  Plato,  is  confirmed,  if  any  confirmation  were  necelfary,  by  its 
being  firfl:  ftarted  in  his  own  treatife  on  a  republic. 

It  may  feem  great  arrogance  even  to  attempt  to  decide,  when  fuch 
doctors  as  Plato  and  Ariftotle  difagree.     But  as  they  are  both  defending 

jcrvKfii'  TO  i'Aiiivlv,  I'j  poiSioi  IV  tSij  ».\m  Trcc^id-i  axri^tiv.     Plato  de  Rep.  1.  x,  Ed.  Seran. 

1602.  p.  756.  B. 

a  fin'orite 


144  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vi. 

a  favorite  hypothefis,  they  may  poffibly  each  be  partly  right,  and  partly 
wrong.  Much  muft  depend  on  the  different  feelings  of  individuals,  as 
v/ell  as  of  nations,  thefe  depending  en  habits  of  mind  and  body,  profef- 
fion,  or  education,  and  thofe  on  the  form  of  government,  and  degree 
of  civilization,  and  refinement.  The  foldier  will  be  affedled  differently 
from  the  mechanic,  the  poliflied  from  the  rude,  the  indolent  from  the 
active.  And  the  inhabitant  of  London,  or  Paris,  will  certainly  have 
different  fenfations  of  pity  and  terror,  from  the  inhabitant  of  the  defarts 
of  Arabia,  or  the  woods  of  America. 

When  the  objedls  of  pity  or  terror,  whether  real  or  imaginary,  prefs 
fo  flrongly  on  our  fenfations  as  to  exclude  any  fentiment  of  pleafure, 
they  will,  in  my  opinion,  have  rather  a  tendency  to  increafe  than  dimi- 
nifli  the  natural  force  of  thofe  paffions,  and  this  will  often  depend  on 
the  firmnefs  of  the  mind,  or  the  dudtility  of  the  imagination.  But 
when  the  excitement  of  thefe  paffions  is  accompanied  by  any  degree  [l] 
of  pleafure,  however  flight,  the  mind  will  acquire  gradual  ftrength  to 
bear  ftronger  reprefentations  by  habitual  exercife,  till  at  length,  as  pof- 
fibly was  the  cafe  with  the  people  of  Athens,  the  fenfations  might  at- 
tain fiich  a  ftate  as  to  require  encreafing  force  of  terror  and  difi:refs,  to 
awaken  the  fenfibility  fo  as  to  caufe  that  agitation,   which  is  the  fource 

[l]  Hume,  in  one  of  his  eflays,  obferves,  that  the  pleafure  of  being  out  of  danger,  and 
near  it,  (which  he  exemplifies  by  ftanding  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  fo  as  to  be  perfedly 
fafe)  is  a  fpecies  of  terror  fo  modiiied  as  to  be  perfeftly  pleafmg.  Now  to  a  feaman,  or  a 
mountaineer,  this  would  convey  no  idea  at  all  of  terror ;  and  I  know  a  perfon  who  would 
feel  a  greater  dread  from  it,  than  if  expofed  to  the  mod  imminent  danger  in  any  other 
form  whatever,  and  which,  confequently,  could  npt  be  attended  with  the  flightcft  fcmblance 
of  pleafure. 

©f 


Chap.  VI.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  145 

of  the  delight  we  receive  from  tragic  imitation.  And  in  this  fit'iation 
the  mind  may  be  fomethiiig  deadened  to  the  fame  imprefiions,  though 
occafioned  by  circumftances  in  real  life. 


As  we  can  only  judge  of  the  opinion   of  Ariftotle,  and  how  fir  it  is 
really  founded  on  nature,  by  our  own  fenfations,  or  our  obfervation  of 
the  fenfations  of  others,  we  are  much  at  a  lofs  v/here  to  look  for  thefe 
means  of  decif.on.      Dramatic  reprefentation,  we  have  already  obferved, 
neither  occupies  the   time  or  attention   enough  to  have  any  great,  or 
permanent  energy,  on   our  paflions  ;    and   the   perufal  of  tragedies,  or 
other  compofitions  of  a  congenial  caft,   is  conlidercd  in  geneml  as  the 
amufement  of  an  idle  hour,  ready  to  be  thrown  afide  in  a  moment  on 
the  arrival  of  the  newfpaper,  or  the  fummons  to  the  card  table.     The 
only  perfons  of  the  prefent  day,   who  at  all  devote  their  attention  with 
ardor  and  perfeverance  to  the  reading  compofitions  of  ficT;itious  diftrefs, 
(and  I  believe  their  number,  efpecially  among  the  higher  ranks,  decreafcs 
every  day,)  are  thofe  ufually  called  romantic  young  women,  who  dedi- 
cate much   of  their  time  to  the   fludy  of   the  numerous   tales,    with 
which  the  prefs  continually  furniflies  our  ciixulating  libraries.     It  is  not 
my  bufmefs  here  to  enquire  how  this  kind  of  application  may  influence 
their  opinions,  and  condud  in  life  ;  but  it  certainly  feems  likely  to  throw 
fome  light  on  the  influence  a  ferious  attention  to  fcenes  of  imitated  paflion, 
may  have  on  the  force  of  real  paflion.     And  here  we  mufl:  confefs,  the 
firll:  appearance  is  againft  the  dodlrine  of  the  critic  ;  the  general  effedl  of 
novel-reading  on  the  gentler  fex  is  too  obvious  to  be  doubted  j  it  excites 
and  enflames   the  paflion  which  is  the  principal  fabjed  of  the  tale,  and 
the  fufceptibility  of  the  female  votary  of  the  circulating  library,  is  prover- 
bial.    But  we  mufl:,  in  the  flrfl;  place,  recolledl,  that  the  paflion  of 

U  love 


146  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  yi. 

love  is  very  different  in  itlelf  from  terror  and  pity,  though  it  may 
be  the  caufe  of  circumftances  replete  with  both  [m]  j  and  it  is  the  tendency 
to  this  paffion,  and  not  to  thofc  of  pity  and  terror,  which  is  encreafed 
by  this  kind  of  reading.  Befides,  it  is  not  perhaps  fo  much  the  paffion 
itfelf  that  is  enflamed,  as  the  wifli  to  feel  it  is  created  by  this  ftudy. 
A  defire  of  refembling  the  fiditious  heroine  of  a  novel,  has  often  in- 
duced a  young  mind  to  enquire  for  thofe  fenfations,  which,  without  fuch 
a  fcarch,  might  have  continued  for  fome  time  dormant  in  the  bofom. 
So  far,  therefore,  is  love  from  being  blunted  by  imitative  fidion,  that 
fuch  fidlion  is  often  an  efficient  caufe  of  its  being  firft  excited. 

But,  in  the  next  place,  is  it  fo  clear  that  the  paffion,  of  pity  at  leaft, 
(the  terrible  is  feldom  admitted  in  a  novel,)  is  not  purged  and  blunted 
in  thefe  very  fufceptible  minds  ?  The  reafoning  of  Ariftotle  feems  to 
be  this  :  the  mind  that  has  been  awakened  and  agitated  by  the  calamities 
of  CEdipus,  Oreftes,  or  Merope  ;  that  fees  high  rank  and  exalted  cha- 
ra<£ler  fo  far  from  exempting  their  poflelTors  from  pain  and  diftrels,  only 
add  accumulated  weight  to  their  fufferings,  will  be  apt,  from  conftant 
attention  to  fuch  fcenes,  to  feel  iefs  from  the  contemplation  of  fimilar 
incidents  in  real  life,  which  are  feldom  attended  with  thofe  complicated 
and  unallayed  diflrefies  which  attend  the  fidion  of  the  poet,  whofe 
bufmefs  it  is  to  fcled  every  circumftance  proper  to  excite  the  paffions  of 
pity  and  terror  in  the  higheft  degree,  and  omit  every  event  that  might 
at  all  tend  to  alleviate  or  divert  them.  That  fuch  are  the  charaders  Arif- 
totle points  out  as  proper  for  tragedy,  appears  from  the  thirteenth  chapter. 

[m]  The  advantage  modern  tragedy  draws  from  love,  confidercd  iii  this  light,  will  be 
examined  in  another  place.     See  Note  iv.  chap,  xiir. 

And 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  147 

And  Beni,  in  confequence  of  this,  renders  tuv  Tuy.jm  •nra5ij|Ma'Tai',  '  the 

*  pafTions  of  fuch  perfons,  i.  c.  (7-^o\)la.i^v,  as  implied  in  a-TTou^oclxg,'  para- 
phraiing  it  thus.     '  As  it  was  the  objedl  of  comedy  to  expofe  and  cor- 

*  redl  the  foibles  of  private  perfons,  fo  it  was  that  of  tragedy  to  inftancc 
'  thofe  in  perfons  of  higher  rank,  and  who  were  inverted  with  autho- 
'  rity.' 

My  opinion  of  the  idea  of  Ariflotle  receives  the  ftrongeft  corrobora^ 
tion  from  the  fragment  of  Timocles,  an  Athenian  comic  poet,  quoted 
by  Mr.  Cumberland,  in  the  Obferver,  No.  106. 

*  Yet  hear  me  fpeak.     Man  is,  of  living  beings, 

*  By  nature  mofl  unhappy.     Life  to  him 

*  Brings  many  a  bitter  pang.    '  Then  for  your  woes 

*  This  confolation  feek.      He  finds  oblivion 

'  Of  his  own  griefs,  whofe  fufceptible  heart 

*  Is  gently  drawn  to  feel  another's  fufF' rings, 

*  And  finds  inftrudlion  mingled  with  delight. 

*  Turn  to  the  tragic  mufe,  and  meet  relief 

*  In  every  fcene.     If  "  fleep'd  in  poverty 

"  Up  to  the  lips  j"  there  Telephus  fhall  fhew 

*  A  monarch  poorer,  and  confole  your  want. 

*  Say,  Are  you  mad  ?     Behold  Alcmaeon's  frenzy. 

*  Are  your  eyes  dim  ?     Lo  the  Phineidae  blind  ! 

*  Is  your  fon  dead  ?     The  lofs  of  Niobe 

*  Shall  lighten  yours.     Or,  are  you  old  and  wretched  ? 

*  Learn  from  Oeneus.     If  unnumber'd  ills 

*  Worfe  than  all  thefe  fhould  prefs  you,  lie  who  turns 

U  2  'His 


148  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vi. 

*  His  thoughts  on  other's  miferies,  will  know 

•  With  patience  more  refign'd,  to  bear  his  own  [n].' 

On  the  fame  principle  with  this  mode  of  reafoning,  (and  I  fee  no 
caufe  to  queftion  the  juftnefs  of  it)  may  not  the  young  woman,  who  is 
for  ever  weeping  over  the  diftrefles  of  a  Clarifla,  or  a  Sydney  Biddulph, 
and  tracing  the  affecfting  fcenes,  and  wonderful  revolutions,  to  be  found  in 
the  adventures  of  a  Cecilia,  or  an  Emmeline,  have  her  feelings  fomething 
deadened  to  the  lefs  interefting  diftrefles  of  ordinary  life ;  or,  to  ufe  the 
words  of  Ariftotle,  with  feme  paraphrafe,  may  not  the  paffion  of  pity 
be  purged  of  feme  of  its  more  violent  effedls  in  reality,  from  being  fre- 
quently excited  for  amufement  by  fictitious  tales  [o]  of  woe.     Much 

[n]  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  apologize  to  the  reader  for  fubftituting  a  verfion  of  my  own,  for  the 
elegant  tranflation  of  Mr.  Cumberland.  But  my  purpofe  required  a  clofer  copy  of  the  original } 
efpecially  in  the  4th,  5th,  6th,  and  7th  lines,  which  correfpond  fo  exadlly  with  the  opinion  of 
Ariftotle. 

Taurac,    0  yap  vou;  tuv  ISidiv  X)?9?i>   XaSio 

.  WE0'   HAONHS   iirriKh,    ■nraJttGaj  a,ua. 

[o]  May  I  be  allowed  to  quote  a  former  attempt  of  my  own,  to  fupport  this  opinion? 

'  Awake  to  each  fiftitious  feeling  grown, 

'  And  moved  by  ills  to  real  life  unknown ; 

'  The  mind,  with  fcenes  of  fabled  woe  poffefs'd, 

'  Will  {hut  to  homely  grief  the  fenfelefs  breaft, 

'  And  turn  from  want  and  pain  the  offended  ear, 

'  To  pour  for  feign'd  diftrefs  the  barren  tear.'  Pi?ocress  of  Refinement. 
Perhaps  the  effeiS  of  comic  imitation  may,  in  fonie  meafure,  illuftrate  this  fubjeft.  Does 
not  the  reprefentation  of  ridiculous  characters  and  incidents,  heightened  beyond  what  we  ever 
find  in  reality,  blunt  in  fome  degree  the  force  of  ridicule  on  charafters  in  life,  which  arc 
never  fo  truly  laughable  as  the  fi£litious  ones  :  for  as  Longinus  obferves,  laughter  is  a  pafllon, 
though  a  pleafing  one.  K«i  yx^  i  yr^to;  to-«s9o?  h  vSoi^.  Long.  feft.  xxxviii.  See  alfo 
Note  XIV.  on  chap.  xxv. 

has 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  149 

has  been  faid  of  the  tear  of  fenfibility,  and  I  own  I  fliould  have  little 
opinion  of  the  head  or  heart  of  any  perfon,  and  efpecially  of  a  woman, 
that  could  laugh  over  Clarilla,  or  fit  with  dry  eyes,  while  Mrs.  Siddons 
was  adling  Ifabella  or  Bclvidera.  But  thefe  tears  are  the  means,  and  not 
the  end  j  or,  to  purfue  the  medical  metaphor  of  Ariflotle,  they  are  the 
operation  of  the  medicine,  and  not  its  hnal  efi'c£t ;  neither  are  thefe 
feelings  always  a  teft  of  real  humanity.  Roufleau  obferves  fomewhere, 
that  '  the  tears  which  we  fhed  for  fiftitious  forrow,  are  admirably 
*  adapted  to  make  us  proud  of  all  the  virtues  we  do  not  poflefs.'  Some 
very  humane  and  benevolent  men  are  fond  of  being  prefent  at  execu- 
tions J  and  others  will  feel  for  diflrefs  on  the  ftage,  without  having,  in 
reality,  any  humanity  at  all.  Plutarch,  in  his  Life  of  Pelopidas,  and 
in  his  treatife  on  the  Fortune  of  Alexander,  relates  an  anecdote  of  Alex- 
ander, king  of  Phaerea,  one  of  the  moft  cruel  tyrants  of  antiquity, 
who,  on  being  moved  to  tears  by  the  reprefentation  of  a  tragedy  of 
Euripides,  left  the  theatre  with  confufion,  alliamed  to  difcover,  that  he 
who  was  infenfible  to  the  fulFerings  of  his  people,  fhould  be  fo  flrongly 
aifeded  by  the  dillrefles  of  [p]  Hecuba  and  Andromache. 

[p]  Thefe  are  the  characters  Plutarch  mentions  in  the  Life  of  Pelopidas,  where  he  names 
the  Troades  as  the  tragedy  :  but  in  the  treatife  on  the  Fortune  of  Alexander,  he  names  Hecuba 
and  Polyxena,  which  laft  character  is  not  in  the  Troades,  but  in  the  tragedy  of  Hecuba. 

Mr.  Upton,  in  his  note  on  this  line  in  Hamlet, 

'  What's  Hecuba  to  him,  or  he  to  Hecuba,' 
obferves,  that  it  is  plain  Shakefpear  alludes  to  this  anecdote,  which,  confidering  how  much 
Shakefpear  appears  to  be  converfant  with  Plutarch,  (all  of  whofe  works  were  tranflated  in  his 
time)  feems  highly  probable.  Though  there  is  a  confiderable  difference  in  the  application,  as 
the  emotion  of  a  performer  is  mentioned  by  Shakefpear,  and  Alexander  was  a  fpeftator.  If 
Hamlet  himfelf  had  been  moved  by  the  recital,  it  would  have  been  more  germane  to  the  allufion. 

Before 


I50  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vi. 

Before  I  conclude  this  part  of  my  fubjcft,  I  will  hazard  a  quotation 
from  a  very  intelligent  financier  and  ftatefman,  (M.  Pinto)  on  the  effedt 
of  the  univerlal  prevalence  of  cards  on  modern  manners,  as  I  conceive 
it  is  by  no  means  foreign  to  our  prefent  enquiry.  It  is  part  of  a  letter, 
printed  at  the  end  of  his  trcatife  on  Circulation  and  Credit.     *  The 

*  magic  of  cards  forms  a  common  focus  of  altnoft  all  the  palTions   in 

*  miniature.     They  all   find  there,  if  I  may  ufe  the  expreilion,   their 

*  proper  food.      It  is   true  that  every  thing  there  is  inicrolcopic,  and 

*  more  illufive  than  common  illufions  are  ;  a  confufed  idea  of  happinefs 

*  and  mifery  is  found  tliere.     The  fphere  of  the  paffions  is   reduced, 

*  concentred,  and  drawn  into  a  narrower  circle ;  all  the  paffions  in  a 
'  manner  entangle  themfelves,  evaporate  and  fpend  themfelves  at  a  dlf- 

*  tance  from  their  fource  and  their  proper  objedl  j  reftlefTnefs,  leifure, 

*  idknefs»  avarice  and  ambition,   devour  in  common  an  unfubflantial 

*  food,  which  enervates  their  force  and  their  aftivity.' 

The  Essay  on  the  End  of  Tragedy,  according  to  Aris- 
totle, by  profeflbr  Moore,  of  Glafgow,  which  is  mentioned  by  Mr. 
Twining,  is  an  ingenious,  but  unfucccfsful  attempt  to  reconcile  this 
palTage  with  his  own  hypothefis,  that  the  end  of  tragedy  is  the 
awakening  the  mind,  to  a  fenfe  of  the  evils  attending  errors  of  con- 
dudl  in  human  life,  and  to  caufe,  by  the  pity  and  terror  they  occafion, 
an  exemption  or  removal  of  fuch  calamities  from  themfelves.  I  once 
had  the  book,  but  as  it  was  at  a  time  when  I  had  no  particular  intereil 
in  its  contents,  it  made  but  a  flight  impreffion  on  my  mind,  and  having 
loil  it,  I  have  never  been  able  to  procure  a  fecond  copy.  His 
chief  argument,  I  remember,  refis  on  ■sra^Tifx.ix.Toc,  being  generally  ufed 
not  for  paffions,  but  aftual  niisfortmies  ;  and  he  cites  various  inflances 
from  Ariflotle  and  other  writers. 

But 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  151 

But  though  there  can  be  no  reafonablc  doubt,  I  think,  of  the  meaning 
of  Ariftotle,  yet  it  by  no  means  follows,  but  that  the  hypothefis  of  Dr. 
Moore,  though  not  that  of  Ariftotle,  may  be  ftill  more  congenial  with 
modern  tragedy,  whofe  end  I  cannot  conceive  to  be  the  purging  of  the 
paffions  of  pity  and  fear.  But  this  will  be  much  more  fully  treated  of, 
when  we  come  to  fpeak  of  Ariftotle's  opinion  of  the  proper  tragic 
cataftrophe. 


N    O    T    E       II. 

SOME    PARTS    ATTAIN     THEIR     END     BY     VERSE     ALONE,     AND 
OTHERS    HAVE    THE    ASSISTANCE    OF     MUSIC. 

IT  feems  impoffible  for  any  thing  to  be  more  clearly  expreffed  than 
this ;  for  Ariftotle,  contrary  to  his  general  cuftom,  has  been  particularly 
careful  in  defining  the  precife  meaning  of  the  two  words  he  ufes,  f/,BTpov 
and  fA,eXog ;  and  he  alfo  exprefsly  liiys,  they  are  employed  feparately. 
Yet  notwithftanding  this,  many  critics  are  decidedly  of  opinion,  that 
the  Greek  tragedies  were  lung  throughout,  and  the  diftindlion  between 
the  dialogue  and  the  choral  odes,  was  exactly  the  fame  with  that  between' 
the  recitative  and  the  airs  in  the  Italian  opera ;  and,  in  fupport  of  this 
opinion,  they  draw  many  arguments  from  the  accounts  given  by  ancient 
writers  on  the  manner  of  performing  the  Greek  tragedy.  Being  not 
very  well  acquainted  with  the  technical  language  of  the  mufic  of  my 
own  country,  I  cannot  be  fuppofed  to  be  a  critic  in  that  of  Greece. 
Under  this  difadvantage,  it  is  with  diffidence  I  attempt  to  reconcile  this 
pofitive  declaration  of  Ariftotle,  v/ith  thofe  paflages  in  other  writers, 
which  appear  to  contradid  it,  and  which  the  reader  will  find  in  Metaf- 

tafio's  ESTRATTO  DELLA   PoETICA. 

The 


J52  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vi. 

The  ancient  theatres  [q^]  were  of  fuch  a  vafl:  extent,  befides  being 
open  at  the  top,  that  it  was  impoffible  for  the  human  voice  to  iill  them  in 
its  natural  pitch  ;  in  confequence  of  which,  it  was  abfolutely  necelTary 
to  employ  artificial  means  to  encreafe  its  force,  and  the  dramatic  [r] 
malk  was  invented,  which,  in  fome  meafure,  afted  as  a  fpeaking  trum- 
pet :  but  as  this  muil  deftroy  all  natural  modulation  of  the  voice,  it  was 
found  necelTary  to  fupply  this  defed:  by  an  [s]  artificial  notation  of 
found,  and  to  render  this  more  diftindt  and  loud,  it  was  very  probably 
attended  by  fome  flight  inftrumental  accompaniment,  but  folely  for  the 
purpofe  of  encreafing  and  regulating  the  found  of  the  voice,  and  not  to 
produce  any  mufical  effed: ;  and  this  was  equally  applicable  to  the 
[t]  quick  repartee  of  the  dialogue,  as  to  the  longer  monologue.  It 
muft:  be  obferved,  that  Ariftotle  does  not  fimply  fay,  that  tragedy  em- 
ploys mufic  and  verfe  feparately,  but  that  it  attains   its  end  by 

[q_]  See  Note  vii.  chap.  xiii. 

[r]  '  The  mafk  had  fomething  very  fingular.     The  Jmmenfe  aperture  of  the  mouth  was 

*  fo  contrived  as  to  augment  the  found  of  the  voice  ;  it  was  in  efFedl:  a  real  fpeaking  trumpet, 

*  (porte  voix)  ncceffary  to  fill  the  wide  extent  of  the  place,  as  well  as  the  brazen  vafes  which 

*  were  placed  in  the  intervals  of  the  theatre.'     Brumoy. 

[s]  For  a  curious  obfervation  of  Dr.  Francklinon  this  pradtice  of  the  ancients,  fee  note  i. 
chap.  XXVI. 

[t]  '  If,  as  Ariftotle  feems  plainly  to  fay,  fome  part  of  the  Greek  tragedy  was  fpoken  like 

*  our  tragic  declamation,  without  any  mufical  accompaniment,  it  was,  moft  probably,  that 
'  part  of  the  dialogue  which  is  in  every  tragedy  eafily  diflinguiOied  from  the  reft,  by  its  being 
'  carried  on  in  a  fort  of  quick  repartee  of  verfe  to  verfc'  Twining,  note  46,  page  245. 
'  Whether  the  monologues,  or  long  fpceches,  the  /:*ax|oai  pVJcrsif,  as  Plato  calls  them,  were 

*  performed  in  the  fame  way  as  the  reft  of  the  dialogue,  or,  as  has  been  imagined,  were 

*  diftinguiflied  by  being  more  mcafurcd,  or  mufical,  is  a  point  not  eafily  cleared  up.'  Ibid. 
page  247. 

them 


Note  ir.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE,  153 

them  feparately,  in  their  rcfpedlive  parts ;  ufing  the  word  tu-epaiv^aSM, 
which  he  has  jufl  before  applied  to  the  accomplifliment  of  its  final  pur- 
pofe,  the  refinement  of  the  paffions.  Therefore,  in  thofe  parts,  where 
verfe  only  is  ufed,  though  tragedy  might  be  compelled,  from  fome  inci- 
dental caule,  to  employ  accompaniment,  he  does  not  confider  it  as  effen- 
tial  to  the  performance  and  effcd,  as  he  does  in  thofe  parts  where  the 
end  of  tragedy  is  attained  by  mufic  [u]. 

What  Metaftafio  fays  on  this  fubjed,  is  well  worth  our  attention. 
He  is  very  fanguine  in  the  notion,  that  the  whole  compolition  of  the 
ancient  tragedy  was  mufical,  following  the  opinion  of  his  countrj'^man 
Caftelvetro,  which  he  quotes.  His  reafoning  on  this  fubjedt  is  founded 
on  the  idea,  that  all  recitation  muft  adopt  fome  kind  of  tune  different 
from  the  common  cadence  of  fpeech.  *  A  voice,'  he  fays,  '  to  be 
'  heard  by  a  number  of  people  to  whom  it  is  addreffed,  miufl;  be  fo 

*  exceffively  altered  from  its  natural  fyflem,  that  it  muft  neceffarily  be 

*  regulated  differently,  according  to  the  different  orders  of  its  new  pro- 

*  portions,  (that  is,  I  fuppofe,  according  to  the  extent  it  is  neccffary, 
from  the  fize  of  the  place,  or  the  number  of  the  auditors,   to  give  it,) 

*  otherwife  it  will  form  a  wild,  diffonant,   and  ridiculous  fcream;   this 

*  new  regulation  muft  be  mufic,  and  this  mufic  is  fo  neceffary  to  who- 
'  ever  fpeaks  in  public,  that  if  it  is   not  fupplied  by  art,  nature  herfelf 

*  fuggefls  it.     There  is  no  orator  that  does  not  fmg ;  no  cryer,  no  public 

*  vender  of  any  merchandize,  that  is  not  conftrained,  for  the  purpofe 
'  of  making  himfelf  heard,  either  to  adopt,  or  form,  according  to  his 
'  own  caprice,  fome  kind  of  tune.     Even  thofe  adtors  who  pretend  to 

X  recite 


154  A  COMIVIENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vr. 

*  "recite  verfe  without  mufic,  are  obliged  to  invent  one  which  they  call 

*  declamation  :  mufic,  indeed,  but  very  imperfed,  fince  it  is  only  regu- 
*■  lated  by  the  uncertain  judgement  of  the  reciter's  ear.  This  natural 
'  proof,  which  is  as  clear  as  it  is  true,  joined  to  an  infinite  number  of 

*  others  which  confirm  it,  difcovers  the  error  of  thofe  critics  who  have 

*  pofitively  decided,  that  no  part  of  the  ancient  drama  was  fung  except 

*  the  chorus.'  Estratto  della  Poetica,  page  52.  Now  after 
all,  this  only  proves,  or  rather  corroborates  the  truth  of  my  conjedlure, 
that,  as  when  the  voice  is  carried  to  an  extent  beyond  its  natural  pitch, 
it  will  neceffarily  adopt  fome  unnatural  tone  ;  fo  it  is  highly  probable  that 
recitation  in  the  ancient  theatres,  whofe  fize  required  an  extraordinary 
extent  of  voice,  and  its  confequence,  an  unnatural  tone,  might  have  that 
tone  regulated  by  fome  inftrumental  accompaniment,  which  though 
fo  perfedly  diftinft  from  thofe  parts,  fuch  as  the  choral  odes,  where 
mufic  was  employed,  in  the  fullefl  fenfe  of  the  word,  as  completely  ts 
juftify  the  oppofition  in  which  they  are  placed  to  each  other  by  Ariftotle, 
might  yet  occafion  thofe  paflages  in  the  ancient  writers,  that  are  quote  J 
by  Metaftafio  in  fupport  of  his  hypothefis  [x]. 

[x]  The  ftrongeft  argument  of  Metaftafio  is  drawn  from  a  pafliige  of  Ariftotle  himfelf. 
Problem,  StA.  xix.  49.  where  he  dcfcribes  the  different  kinds  of  mufic  adapted  to  the  adors, 
and  the  chorus.  All  the  others  are  drawn  from  Roman  writers,  except  one  from  Lucian  de  Sal- 
tatioae,  which  isevideixtly  intended  tofliew  the  abfurdity  of  the  mufical  accompaniment,  in  his 
time,  which  was,  mojft  probably,  different  from  that  of  the  Athenian  ftage  in  the  time  of 
Ariftotle  ;  for  while  he  blames  this  unnatural  accompaniment,  he  exprefsly  fays,  that  the  an- 
cient POETS  regulated  the  other  decorations  of  the  theatre  as  well  as  the  mere  words,  a  proof 
that  the  praftice  was  changed ;  and  Metaftafio  himfelf  allows  he  is  complaining  of  the  effemi-- 
nate  mufic  of  the  atSlors  of  his  own  time;  therefore  it  not  only  invalidates  the  evidence  of 
the  Roman  writers,  but  tends  to  overturn  the  general  fyftem  of  Metaftafio,  as  to  the  merit  of 
the  mufical  drama. 

The 


NoTx  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  155 

The  real  motive  of  Metaftafio's  attachment  to  this  hypothefis,  it  is  fuf- 
-liciently  obviouSj  arofe  from  his  partiaHty  to  the  opera,  in  which  he  was 
a  mofl  excellent  writer,  and  which  he  wifhes  to  fhew  was  a  lineal,  and 
legitimate  offspring,  of  the  Greek  tragedy,  as  mofl;  probably  it  was.  The 
Roman  theatre  having  turned  the  neceffary  means  of  modulating  the 
voice,  in  fo  large  and  open  a  room,  into  a  real  mufical  accompaniment, 
which  the  Italian  theatre  retained  as  an  ornament  after  it  ceafed  to  be 
abfolutely  requifite. 

But  the  fize  of  the  modern  theatre  [y]  is  by  no  means  fuch  as  to  re- 
quire any  unnatural  elevation  of  the  voice.  And  as  to  the  neceflity  of 
every  perfon  ipeaking  in  a  tone,  who  addreffes  a  public  affembly,  it  cer- 
tainly is  not  founded  on  fadl.  A  member  of  parliament,  who  was  to  ad- 
drefs  the  houfe  of  commons,  or  even  his  conftituents,  in  any  thing  like  a 
tone,  or  tune,  would  not  be  heard  a  moment.  Indeed  the  fubftitution 
of  modulated,  for  empaffioned  accent,,  or,  in  other  words,  the  laying  any 
emphafis  of  any  kind,  but  w;h^t  the  fenfe,  or  rather  the  expreffion  of  the 
fenfe  requires,  is  a  cer^tain  unerring  proof  that  the  fpeaker  is  delivering 
what  he  has  before  committed  to  memory.  I  have  heard  many  good 
preachers ;  but  I  never  heard  one  who  did  not,  in  the  courfe  of  a  fermon, 
lay  the  [z]  emphaiis  often  on  places  contrary  to  the  fQnfe.     I  have  heard 

[y]  I  mean  the  theatres  of  this  country,  ufed  for  the  reprefentation  of  the  regular  drama. 
The  theatres  of  Italy,  elpecially  thofe  at  Naples,  Turin,  and  Milaji,  may  require  modulated 
recitation  to  fill  them  with  propriety. 

[z]  By  emphafis  here,  I  mean  the  diftiniSion  of  words  in  a  fentence,  and  not  of  fyllables  in 
a  word,  which,  I  think,  both  Dr.  Beattie  and  Mr.  Nares  have  erroneoufly  confounded  with 
accent 

For  a  further  attempt  to  illuftrate  this  fubjeft,  the  reader  is  referred  to  note  ii.  chap.  xx. 

X  2  a« 


156  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  vi, 

as  many  bad  fpeakers  in  parliament ;  but  I  never  heard  one  who  was 
fpeaking  on  the  lubjed:  in  debate  without  premeditation,  that  ever 
placed  the  emphafis  contrary  to  the  fenfe  he  meant  to  convey ;  and  in 
common  converfation  the  emphafis  was  never  yet  laid  improperly.  As 
to  the  tone  ufed  by  the  venders  of  merchandize,  we  allow  a  kind  of  fong 
to  the  cryers  of  oyfters  and  mackrel ;  but  an  audlioneer,  who  attempted 
to  adopt  one,  would  certainly  be  laughed  at.  And  fince  the  days  of 
Garrick  [a],  all  unnatural  declamation  has  been  entirely  banifhed  from 
our  theatres. 

The  probability  and  excellence  of  the  mufical  drama  is  alio  defended 
by  Metailafio  on  another  principle,  with  which,  as  a  general  rule,  I  per- 
feftly  agree,  viz.  *  That  an  imitator,  who  does  not  undertake  to  pro- 

*  duce  the  exaft  truth,  but  only  to  give  as  great  a  likenefs  as  poffible  to  the 
'  material  that  he  employs,  has  perfedlly  fulfilled  his  promife,  and  attain- 

*  ed  his  end,  when  he  has  given  it  every  thing  of  which  his  materials  are 

*  capable — and  that  it  is  from  ignorance  of  this  nature  of  imitation,  that 

*  arifes  the  contemptuous  judgement  of  thofe,  who  treat  the  mufical 

*  drama  as  improbable,  and  abfurd,  becaufe  the  adlors  die  with  a  fong  in 
'  their  mouth;  as  if  from  its  firft  origin,  language  meafured  and  modu- 

*  lated,  was  not  the  appropriated  and  indifpenfible  material  of  every  kind 

*  of  poetical  imitation.'     Estratto  della  pojetica,  page  87,  88. 

[a]  However  much  the  public  may  be  obliged  to  Mr.  Garrick  for  this  and  other  improve- 
ments of  dramatic  reprefentation,  we  muft  lament  his  alteration  of  Drury-lane  Theatre,  which, 
from  being  the  beft  calculated  of  any  I  was  ever  in  to  convey  found,  fince  the  deepening  of 
the  front  boxes,  and  firft  gallery,  is  fo  faulty  in  that  refpefl,  as  almoft  to  want  the  afliftance  of 
the  ancient  mafk.  This  defeiSt  is  now  radically  removed  by  the  pulling  down  the  old  theatre  j 
and  I  hope  it  will  not  exill  in  the  magnijiccnt  one  which  is  ereding  on  its  fite. 

Now 


Note  n.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  157 

Now  though,  as  I  have  ah-eady  faid,  I  perfedlly  allow  the  truth  of  this 
as  a  general  prmciple ;  yet  the  laft  part  of  the  quotation,  taken  in  its 
flridleft  Cenfc,  is  not  true ;  neither  does  it  follow,  becaufe  in  imitations 
made  by  the  fine  arts  the  materi.il  fhould  appear,  that  every  material  is 
proper  for  every  kind  of  imitation,  or  that  fome  materials  may  not  be  fo 
inadequate,  or  fo  oppofite  to  the  imitation  of  theobjed;  intended,  as  to  be 
entirely  incapable  of  producing  any  interefl.  For  though  difhculty 
overcome  may,  in  fome  cafes,  inhance  the  merit  of  imitation,  as  '  fculp- 
*  ture  in  marble  is  more  valuable  than  in  wax,  on  account  of  the  greater 
'  difficulty  of  the  execution  [b];'  yet  no  diliiculty  furniounted  can  ever 
compenfate  for  any  radical  inadequacy  in  the  material  to  efFedt  its  pro- 
pofed  end.  A  ftatue  of  Glycon  will  excite  the  admiration  of  cultivated 
tafle,  even  when  well  copied  by  the  eafieft  procefs  ;  but  Atlas  hewn  into 
a  ftatue,  would  only  awake  the  wonder  of  the  multitude. 

Even  Metaftafio  could  fee  the  force  of  this  diflindlion  when  it  favored 
an  hypothefis  of  his  own.  For  arguing  againfl  the  ancient  chorus,  he 
blames  the  abfurdity  of  a  number  of  perfons  agreeing  together  in  the 
fame  fentiments  at  once,  and  burfting  forth  in  a  general  declaration  of 
them.  (Eftratto,  page  236.)  Forgetting  that  this  may  alfo  be  folved, 
by  faying  thefe  combined  voices  are  only  the  means  of  imitation,  and 
that  there  is  no  more  real  abfurdity  in  a  [c]  fpeech  being  accompanied 
by  vocal  than  by  inftrumental  performers.  And  again,  in  his  note  on 
this  line  of  the  epiftle  to  the  Fifos, 

*  Quae  canerent  agerentque  perundli  faecibus  ora.* 

[b]  Eftratto,  page  344. 

[c]  Many  of  the  choral  odes  in  the  "Greek  tragedies  are  in  the  fingular  number,  as  fpoken 
by  one  perfon.     As  in  the  CEdipus  Tyrannus,  v.  1105,  beginning 

where 


153  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vi. 

where  he  is  defending  againft  Sanadon  the  continued  mufic  of  the  Greek, 
drama,  he  obferves,  that  if  the  contrary  were  allowed,  there  would  be 
found  in  the  Greek  tragedy,  '  that  difguftful  medly  [d]  of  fpeaking  and 
'  finging,  which  is  now  hardly  tolerated  in  the  [eJ  comic  opera,  as  being 
'  an  extravagant  deformity,  invented  by  the  mirth  of  fcurrilous  licen- 
'  tioufnefs,  to  excite  the  laugh  of  the  vulgar.' 

In  regard  to  the  lirft  inftance,  Metaftafio,  aware  that  what  he  urges 
againft  the  fudden  coincidence  of  fentiment  and  expreffion,  in  the  perfons 
of  the  Greek  chorus,  might  be  urged  v^'ith  equal  force  againft  the  chorus 
of  the  Italian  opera,  tries  to  qualify  it  by  faying,  it  is  natural  for  the 
ftage  to  avail  itfelf  of  the  pleafure  of  a  chorus,  in  a  facrifice,  or  a  tri- 
umph, where  the  people  may  be  fuppofed  to  fmg  premeditated  words, 
or,  in  a  popular  commotion,  wkere  they  may  naturally  agree,  on  a  fud- 
den, in  their  thoughts  and  expreffion,  as  in  calling  for  juftice,  vengeance, 
pity,  war,  or  peace.  Unluckily  in  this  cafe  the  theory  and  the  practice 
of  Metaftafio  are  at  variance  j  for  there  is  hardly  a  concluding  chorus 
among  his  operas,  that  is  not,  to  the  full,  as  unlike  the  fudden  coinci- 
dence of  popular  opinion,  as  the  moft  moral  ode  of  Sophocles.  And  as 
to  the  people's  fmging  a  premeditated  chorus,  what  becomes  then  of  the 
material  of  imitation  ?  [f]     From  that  inftant,  mufical  language  ceafes  to 

be 

[d]  See  Mr.  Twining's  note  46,  page  245,  for  a  complete  anfwer  to  the  notion  of  this 
mixture  being  incompatible  with  the  dignity  of  the  Grecian  tragic  mufe. 

[e]  Metaftafio  does  not  mean  the  Italian  comic  opera  which  is  accompanied  throughout  and 
is  their  regular  comedy,  but  the  French  opera  comique  (which  words  he  ufes,)  and  which  mode 
of  compofiti on,  copied  from  the  French,  has  driven  the  fcenes  of  Shakefpear  from  our  difgraced 
theatre,  to  found  their  fame  on  the  inferior,  though  generous  efforts  of  a  fifter  art. 

[f]  Thercisacuriousinftanceof  this  fort  in  Love  in  aVillage,  when  Juftice  Woodcock 
fings  a  fong,  as  a  fong  to  his  daughter's  lover.    There  is  an  abfurdity  the  rcverfe  of  this,  though 

of 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  159 

be  the  language  of  the  charafters,  the  deception  i»  exprefsly  difavowed, 
and  the  performer  may  as  well,  as  Bottom  advifes  the  lion,  *  come  forward 
and  fay,  "  I  am  no  fuch  thing,  I  am  a  man  as  other  men  are."     And 

*  there  indeed  let  him  name  his  name,  and  tell  them  plainly,  he  is  Snug 

*  the  joiner.' 

What  was  the  effe£l  of  the  mufical  accompaniment  on  the  ancient 
theatre,  whether  continued  throughout  the  whole  piece,  or  only  ufed  in 
parts  of  it,  we  can  now  hardly  judge,  as  we  fcarcely  know  what  it  was. 
On  the  modern  flage  it  feems  to  weaken  the  force  of  the  intereft,  as  I 
think  no  artificial  modulation  can  ever  equal  the  empaffioned  notes  of 
nature  uttered  by  a  good  aftor.  In  general,  the  pleafure  we  derive  from 
the  mufic,  is  rather  our  objedt  in  the  Italian  opera  than  the  intereft  of  the 
fcene.  It  appears,  I  confefs,  to  me,  that  blending  mufic  with  empaf- 
fioned language  [g],  tends  ftrongly  to  weaken  the  energy  of  both,  and 
the  only  way  to  give  each  their  full  effedl  is  to  follow  the  precept  of 
Ariftotle,  and  keep  them  *  diftindt  in  their  refpedive  parts  [h].' 

of  exaftly  the  fame  tendency,  in  Tancredand  Sigifmunda,  where  the  letter  from  Tancred, 
which  Sigifmunda  reads,  is  in  profe.  In  both  thefe  cafes  the  material  of  imitation  is  avowed. 
It  is  exactly  as  if  the  dialogue  only  of  the  Iliad,  or.  the  Paradife  Loft,  were  inverfe,  and  the 
connective  parts,  like  tiie  marginal  directions  of  the  drama,  were  in  profe.  If  all  the  other  cha- 
ra<Sers  of  Love  in  a  Village  occafionally  exprefs  their  fentiments  in  mufical  airs,  Juftice  Wood- 
cock fhould  not  be  an  exception.     If  Tancred  fpeaks  in  verfe,  he  fliould  not  write  in  profe. 

[g]  It  muft  be  remembered  Tarn  not  Ipeaking  of  lyric  poetry,-but  confine  my  obfervations 
entirely  to  dramatic  efFeft. 

[h]  Ariftotle,  in  his  firft  chapter,  make  the  diftinguifliihg  charafter  between  the  regular 
drama  and  the  nomi  and  dithyrambic  poetry,  to  conllft  in  this  circumftance,  of  the  one  fpecies 
ufing  mufic  and  poetry  together  throughout  the  piece,  and  the  other  in  feparate  places, 

Thofe 


i6o  A  COxM.MENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vi. 

Thofc  writers  who  have  particularly  confidered  the  powers  of  mufic, 
its  merit  as  an  imitative  art,  audits  influence  over  the  paiTions  [i],  have 
been  of  opinion,  that  its  principal  force  does  not  confift  fo  much  in 
exciting  our  feelings  by  imitation,  as  in  the  power  it  pofTefTes  of  caufing 
fuch  a  temper  of  mind,  as  is  fit  to  receive  the  impreffions  intended  to  be 
made  by  the  poet.  If  this  is  the  cafe,  the  chorus  [k]  being  an  efiential 
part  of  the  ancient  tragedy,  could  not  poflibly  have  been  difpofed  bet- 
ter than  it  was  by  the  cuftom  of  the  Grecian  theatre,  where  the  lead- 
ing charadter  of  the  group,  or  the  Coryphteus,  was  confidered  as  one  of 
the  charadlers  of  the  drama,  and  took  a  part  in  the  adlion  ;  while  the 
whole  body  together  vvere  employed  as  a  kind  of  mufical  ornament  be- 
tween the  intervals  of  the  adion,  keeping  up,  and  heightening  the  force 
of  the  impreffion  arifing  from  the  incidents,  by  moral  and  pathetic  re- 
fledlions  on  their  confequences,  delivered  in  beautiful  verfe,  and  accom- 
panied by  mufic  calculated  to  av/aken  congenial  fenfations  in  the  mind. 
M.  Leffing  obferves,  [l]  (Dramaturgic,  vol.  i.  page  44,)  that  '  as  the 

*  orcheftre  in  our  theatres,   in  fome  degree,  holds  the  fame  place  with 

*  the  chorus  of  the  ancients,  the  lovers  of  the  drama  have  long  wiflied, 

*  that  the  mulic  which  precedes  the  performance,  and  that  which  is 

*  played  between  the  adls,  fliould  agree  with  the  nature  of  the  piece.' 
And  he  tells  us,  an  attempt  of  this  fort  was  made  by  a  M.  Scheibe,  on 
the  tragedies  of  Polyeude,  and  Mithridate,  and  executed  on  feveral  dif- 

[i]  Particularly  Mr.  Harris,  Dr.  Beattie,  and  Mr.  Twining. 
[k]  See  note  IV.  chap.  xii. 

[l]  Mr.  Twining  makes  the  fame  obfervation.  '  The  performers,'  he  fays, '  in  the  orcheftra 

*  of  a  modern  theatre,  are  little,  I  believe,  aware  that  they  occupy  the  place,  and  may  confider 
'  themfelvcs  as  the  lineal  defcendants  of  the  ancient  chorus.'  Note  on  the  translation, 
Part  ii.  Sc£t.  xxi,  page  103. 

fcrent 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  i6i 

fcrcnt  theatres  in  the  year  1736.  The  fame  attempt,  he  fays,  was  alfo 
made  by  M.  Agricola,  ^t  Berlin,  on  the  tragedy  of  Semiramis,  and  with 
complete  fuccefs. 

I  fear  this  experiment  would  hardly  fucceed  on  our  theatre.  It  is, 
fometimes,  very  difficult  for  the  lover  of  the  drama  to  prevail  on  his 
neighbours,  to  fupprefs  their  converfation  in  the  moft  interefting  fcenes 
of  a  tragedy;  and  I  believe  no  mufical  power,  lefs  than  that  of  Orpheus, 
could  charm  an  Englifh  audience  from  the  pleafure  of  talking  between 
the  ads.  We  fee,  every  day,  the  fame  perfons,  who,  in  the  country, 
would  pay  half  a  guinea,  and  travel  twenty  miles  in  the  dark,  to  fit  in 
raptures,  real  or  affefted,  at  a  concert,  performed  by  a  band,  in  every 
refpeft  inferior  to  thofe  which  fill  our  theatrical  orcheflres,  appear  per- 
feiflly  inattentive  to  the  mufic  at  the  play-houfes,  and  who  would  think 
a  perfbn  out  of  his  fenfes,  who  fliould  requef^  their  attention  to  any  piece 
of  mufic  that  fhould  be  performed  between  the  ad:s  of  a  play. 

Only  one  attempt,  that  I  know  of,  (I  cannot  fay  of  this  kind,  fmce 
its  tendency  was  diredlly  oppofite,)  has  been  made  here,  to  introduce 
any  thing,  during  the  intervals  of  the  reprefentation,  at  all  aliufive  to  the 
incidents  of  the  piece.  This  was  in  the  tragedy  of  Zara,  where,  in  the 
intervals,  a  humourous  dialogue  was  to  be  fung  by  Mr.  Beard  and 
Mrs.  Clive,  commenting  on,  and  ridiculing  the  incidents  and  fentiments 
of  the  preceding  ad:.  Of  the  fuccefs  of  this  curious  attempt,  or  whether 
the  diak>gue  was  ever  performed,  I  am  ignorant .;  but  it  is  generally 
printed  with  the  tragedy. 


y 


\  0  I-  E 


i62  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vi. 


NOTE     III. 

THE    FABLE    THEN    IS    THE    CHIEF    PART,    AND,    AS    IT    WERE,^ 
THE    SOUL    OF    TRAGEDY. 

THIS  obfervation  of  Arlftotle  is  undoubtedly  founded  on  nature,  and 
Is  not  only  applicable  to  tragedy,  but  to  every  other  kind  of  imitative 
compolition,  whether  dramatic  or  narrative. 

Perhaps  there  Is  no  circumftance  in  which  the  tragedies  of  the  prefent 
day  are  fo  deficient,  as  in  the  want  of  interefting  adlion.  This  is,  in  a 
great  meafure,  owing  to  the  ftrift  adherence  to  the  French  rule,  of  not 
fuffering  the  fuppofed  time  of  adlion  to  exceed  the  real  time  of  reprefen- 
tation.  Dramatic  poetry  is,  by  this  regulation,  almofl:  confined  to  the 
boundary  of  painting,  and  can  only  reprefent  a  fingle  fcene  of  any  great 
event.  And  this  is  attended  by  another  inconvenience  ;  for  the  allotted 
fpace  of  five  adls  becomes  as  much  too  great  for  that  fingle  fcene,  as  the 
confined  period  of  three  hours  would  be  too  fmall  for  the  whole  adlion ; 
and  hence  the  poet  is  obliged  to  fpin  out  his  tragedy  by  means  of  the 
dialogue,  and  falls  under  the  fame  [m]  inconvenience  as  would  attend  a 
proper  and  complete  dramatic  fable,  without  epifodic  parts,,  if  fwelled  to; 
the  fize  of  the  epopee. 

The  great  defedt  in  that  [n]  truly  fublime  poem,  the  Paradife  Loft,  is 
a  want  of  intereft  ia  the  fable  -,  every  charadler,  except  two,  being  fiiper- 

[m]  Poetic,  Chap,  xxvi., 

[n]  See  Beattle  on  Poetry  and  Mufic,  Part  i.  Chap.  iv.. 

natural  ^ 


Note  iiK  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLEV  167, 

natural  -,  and  we  can  never  be  greatly  interefted  in  the  diftrefs,  or  prof- 
perity,  of  a  perfon,  into  whofe  fituation  it  is  impoflible  for  us  to  [o]  put 
ourfelves. 

Addifon,  who  was  determined  to  find  every  poflible  excellence  in  the 
Paradife  Loft,  though  he  could  not  help  [p]  feeing  this  defedl  in  the 
fable,  never thelefs  makes  the  following  remark.  After  obferving  that 
the  Iliad  and  Mncid,  from  [cl]  their  national  fubjeds,  muft  have  been  re- 
fpedtively  very  interefting  to   the  Greeks   and  Romans,   he   proceeds, 

*  Milton's  poem  is  admirable  in   this  refpedl,  fince  it  is  impolTible  for 

*  any  of  its  readers,  whatever  nation,  country,  or  people  he  may  belong 
'  to,  not  to  be  related  to  the  perfons  who  are  the  principal  adors  in  it.' 
Spectator,  No.  273.  Now,  befides  the  miftake  Addifon  appears  to  have 
made  as  to  the  efFedl  of  national  fable,  which  feems  to  be  rather  the 
foothing  the  vanity  of  the  reader,  than  the  encreafe  of  his  intereft  in  the 
adlion,  one  fhould  hardly  have  fuppofed,  that  Addifon  could  have  been 
ignorant  of  the  obvious  truth,  that  every  affedion  is  exadlly  weakened  in 
proportion  to  its  becoming  general-  There  is  no  diftindion  fo  great  in 
civil  life  as  that  between  a  man  and  any  other  animal,  and  yet  I  never 
knew  a  perfon  proud  of  this  lafl  diflindion,  though  there  is  no  elevation 
of  rank  fo  inconfiderable,  as  not  to  have  awakened  pride  in  fome  bofoms. 

\o'\  Qotoi  ii  Tffi^  roil  ojAOKiv,     Poet  Ch.  xiii. 

£p]  Spectator,  No.  357. 

[q^]  It  feems  a  national  hero,  in  Addlfon's  opinion,  was  a  fine  qua  non,  in  the  epopee;  for 
he  fays,  In  his  critique  on  Chevy  Chace,  '  Virgil's  hero  was  theibunder  of  Rome,'  (was  he?) 
'  Homer's  a  prince  of  Greece,  and  for  this  reafon  Valerius  Flaccus,  and  Statius,  who  were 

*  both  Romans,  might  be  juftly  derided  for  having  chofenthe  expedition  of  the  golden  fleece, 
■*  and  the  v/ars  of  Thebes,  for  die  fubje6ts  of  their  epic  writings.     Spect.  No,  70. 

Y2  The 


i64  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vr. 

The  fame  thing  happens  to  the  other  paffions.  We  are  ftrongly  afFeded 
by  a  tale  of  private  diftrefs,  even  if  not  extending  to  danger  or  death ;  but 
we  read,  [r]  without  any  emotion,  of 

*  In  one  great  day,  on  Hockftet's  fatal  plain, 
'  French  and  Bavarians,  twenty  thoufand  flain, 

*  Pufh'd  through  the  Danube  to  the  fhores  of  Styx ; 

*  Squadrons  eighteen,  battalions  twenty-fix.  Prior. 

An  error  of  the  oppofite  fide,  butarifing  from  the  fame  caufe,  appears 
in  the  lafl  book  of  the  Englifh  Garden.  By  making  an  affefting  tale  the 
principal  object,  the  fubjedl  of  the  poem  is  thrown  entirely  into  the  back 
ground.  The  mind  is  fo  much  more  influenced  by  the  imitation  of  human 
adlions  and  manners,  than  by  any  the  moft  beautiful  defcription  of 
inanimate  nature,  that  when  they  coincide,  if  the  former  is  not  very 
much  kept  down,  it  will  entirely  deflroy  all  our  interefl  in  the  latter^ 
The  flory  of  Eurydice,  in  the  fourth  Georgic,  is  like  the  fketch.  of  a 
mythological  incident,  fuch  as  Niobe,  for  inflance,  introduced  into  a 
kndfcape.  But  the  pathetic  tale  of  Nerina,  and  efpecially  in  the  peculiar 
form  in  which  Mr.  Mafon  has  introduced  it,  takes  up  our  whole  atten- 
tion, and  the  embellifhment  of  the  Englifli  Garden  becomes  the  mere 
fcenery  of  the  adtion.  Who  will  regard  the  ornament  of  a  temple  who 
is  looking  at  the  flaughter  of  the  innocents,  or  examine  the  perfpedtive 
of  an  apartment,  which  contains  a  Beaufort  expiring  in  the  agonies  of 
guilt  and  defpair  ? 

[r]  This  is  admirably  well  illuftrated  by  a  ftory  told  in  one  of  the  numbers  of  the  Adveu~ 
turcr.     See  alfo  the  Encyclopedic,  Art.  Ulufion. 


NOTE 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE,  165 

NOTE     IV. 

THE  PROFESSED  END  OF  TRAGEDY  IS  TO  IMITATE  AN  ACTION; 
AND,  CHIEFLY  BY  MEANS  OF  THAT  ACTION,  TO  SHEW  THE 
QUALITIES    OF    THE    PERSONS    ACTING. 

PERHAPS  there  is  not  a  flronger  inflance  of  the,  difference  between 
manners  introduced  as  fecondary  to  the  adion,  though  arifing  immedi- 
ately, and  necelfarily,  from  it ;  and  their  holding  the  firft  place,  than  the 
novel  of  Tom  Jones  compared  with  Triftram  Shandy.  The  maflerly 
contrivance  of  the  fable  in  the  former,  at  once  aftonifhes  and  delights  usj 
but  though  we  may  be  ftruck  with  the  high  coloring  of  the  other,  we 
foon  perceive  it  is  laid  on  promifcuoully  j  we  are  amufed,  but  we  are 
not  interefted,  except  in  thofe  parts  where  our  paffions  are  engaged  by 
incident,  as  well  as  awakened  by  quality ;  fuch  as  the  admirable  ftory  of 
Le  Fevre. 

I  have  often  thought  the  [s]  cenfure  paffed  by  Longinus  on  the 
Odylfey,  when  compared  with  the  Iliad,  arofe  from  his  mifapprehenfion 
of  this  and  another  paflage  of  Ariftotle  ;  for  one  of  the  reafons  he  gives 
for  introducing  his  unfavourable  criticifm  on  the  OdyfTey,  he  himfelf  tells 
us,  is  to  fliew,  '  how  the  greatefl  writers  and  poets,  when  their  genius 
*  wants  ftrength  for  the  pathetic,  naturally  fall  into  defcription  of  man- 

[s]  See  note  i.  chap.  xxiy. 


i66  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  vr; 

*  ners  [t].  Now  it  is  true,  Ariftotle  does  charaderife  the  Iliad  as  being 
fimple  and  pathetic,  the  OdylTey  as  complicated  and  defcriptive  of 
manners.  (Poetic,  Chap,  xxiv.)  But  he  obvioufly  ufes  pathetic,  as 
applied  to  the  Iliad  in  the  fame  fenfe  with  his  definition  of  tragic  pathos 
in  the  eleventh  chapter;  '  the  exhibition  of  deaths,  tortures,  and  wounds;' 
and  not  of  that  pathos  which  Longinus  confiders  as  a  fpecies  of  the  fublime. 
And  to  confider  the  two  poems  with  regard  to  the  paffage  before  us,  furely 
the  OdyfTey  ftriftly  fulfils  the  idea  of  Ariftotle,  in  painting  the  manners 
through  the  fable.  And  though  the  Iliad,  to  ufe  the  language  of  the 
drama,  may  be  fuller  of  buftle,  [u]  I  cannot  think  the  fable  either  fo  well 
conftrufted,  or  fo  interefting,  as  that  of  the  Odyfley ;  and  furely  if  there 
is  only  equal  excellence  in  the  firft  ixquifite,  it  can,  at  leaft,  be  no  fault, 
to  have  fuperior  excellence  in  that  which  is  allowed  to  hold  the  fecond 
place. 


NOTE     V. 

THE    DECORATIONS   OF    THE   STAGE,    THOUGH   VERY   INTERESTING, 
HAVE    THE    LEAST     CONNECTION    WITH    THE     POETIC    ART. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  vaft  fize,  and  fuperb  decorations  of 
the  ancient  theatres,  which  were  looked  upon  as  a  national  concern,  and 
kept  up  at  the  national  expence,  they  were  neither  fo  natural,  or  fo  in- 
terefting, as  thofe  of  the  moderns.  They  had  no  change  of  fcenc  ;  for 
what  feme  critics  have  urged  from  a  pallage  in  the  third  Georgic,  and 

£uj  Sc;  note  iv.  chap.  xxvi. 

the 


Note  v.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  167 

the  obfervatlon  of  Servius  on  it,  in  fupport  of  the  contrary  opinion,  is 
certainly  ill  founded. 

[x]  *  Or  as  the  turning  fcene  its  afped  fhifts.' — 

The  note  of  Servius  explains  how  this  was  done,  either  by  the  turning 
of  a  machine,  for  a  reprefentation  of  which  the  reader  is  referred  to  Dr. 
Warton's  Virgil ;  or  by  drawing  up  and  letting  down  curtains.  But  it 
appears  from  Vitruvius,  L.  v.  that  this  change  of  fcene  was  according 
to  the  different  kind  of  drama,  to  each  of  which  a  particular  fcene  was 
appropriated,  that  continued  through  the  whole  performance,  and  was 
always  the  fame  in  every  performance  of  the  fame  kind.  The  fcenery  of 
tragedy  reprefented  palaces,  whofe  fronts  were  ornamented  witli  columns 
and  ftatues ;  comedy  had  the  common  houfes  and  ftreets  of  a  city ;  and 
the  fatyric  fcene  was  adorned  by  trees,  cottages,  rocks,  and  caves.  As 
tragedy,  therefore,  was  always  confined  to  an  area  before  a  palace,  and 
comedy  to  a  ftreet,  thofe  adions  only  could  be  reprefented  with  pro- 
priety, which  might  happen  in 'the  open  air  :  this,  however,  was  little 
additional  reftraint  to  tragedy,  confined,  as  it  was,  by  the  continual  pre- 
fence  of  the  chorus  ;  and  comedy  often  broke  through  it,  as  may  be 
fliewn  from  many  fcenes  of  Ariftophanes.  Indeed,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  the  decoration  of  the  theatre  was  rather  meant  to  imitate  the  fcene 
of  reprefentation,  than  of  adtion ;  and  that  the  area  before  a  palace,  or 
public  building,  was  confidered  as  a  proper  place  for  the  exhibition  of 
trao-edy,  authorifed  by  the  magiftrate,  while  a  common  fiireet  was  a  likely 
place  for  the  aflembly  of  the  voluntary  [yj  performers  of  comedy;  and 

[x]  '  Vel  fcena  ut  verfis  difcedat  frontibus.'— 

[y]  See  what  Ariftotle  fays,  of  the  origin  and  progrei's  of  thefe  two  fpecies  of  the  drama, 
in  chapters  iv  and  v. 

the 


i68  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vi. 

the  fatyrlc  pieces  being  lefs  improved,  and  of  inferior  eftimation,  were 
confidered  like  comedy  in  its  origin,  as  performed  by  village  ftrollers. 
(See  Poetic,  Chap,  in.) 

On  any  other  principle  than  this,  (the  ftability  of  the  fcene,  during 
the  performance,  being  proved  by  the  concurring  teftimony  of  all 
writers  on  the  fubjeft ;)  a  manifeft  abfurdity  muft  have  attended 
many  of  the  Greek  tragedies,  where  the  fcene  of  aftion  is  ap- 
parently not  laid  in  a  town.  Sophocles,  who  is  called  by  Ariftotle  the 
inventor  of  painted  fcenery,  affords  two  ftriking  inftances  of  this  kind. 
One  in  the  Ajax,  where  Minerva  fays  to  Ulyfles, 

[z]  '  Now  on  the  camp's  remoteft  verge  I  find  you, 
*  Where  Ajax'  tents  the  Grecian  navy  guard.' 

The  other  in  the  Philo<5letes,  which  begins, 

[a]  '  And  now  we  tread  the  unfrequented  fands 
'  Of  defart  Lemnos'  fea-encircled  fhore.' 

It  has  already  been  obferved  in  a[B]  note  on  the  fourth  chapter,  that  the* 
modern  drama  reprefented,is  the  moil  exadl  of  any  of  the  imitations  effeded 
by  the  arts ;  if,  therefore,  according  to  the  hypothefis  we  have  adopted, 
the  illufion,  as  to  objeds  difagreeable  in  themfelves,  was  kept  up  too 
ftrongly,  they  would  ceafe  to  pleafe,  and  the  practice  of  our  theatre  juf- 
tifies  the  remark.  The  adtor  does  not  avail  himfelf  of  circumftances 
which  are  made  ufe  of  by  the  dramatic  painter  with  fuccefs.     Our  ftage 

[z]  Kai  i/Zv  im\  (rxYivxTi  ci  ^«i;7»x«»f  ieu 
£aJ    AxIjj  fjiXv  r.  Si  t5);  zjififfirov  j^fioKSf 


[b]  Note  I. 


IS 


Note  v.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  169 

is  never  flained  with  blood  flowing  from  the  wounds  of  the  dying  charac- 
ters ;  for,  as  a  very  elegant  critic  obferves,  •  We  ought  to  excludq  tliofe 

*  means  of  imitation  which  render  it  too  frightfully  and  horribly  true,  as 

*  when  blood  is  concealed  in  a  bladder  under  the  drefs  of  an  adtor  who 

*  is  to  appear  to  kill  himfelf,  and  it  overflows  the  theatre.'     Encyclo- 
PEDiE,  Art.  Illusion,  by  M.  Mamiontel. 

That  our  theatre  formerly  adopted  this  praftlce,  appears  from  a 
ftage  dlredllon  in  DrydenV  King  Arthur,  relating  to  the  fingle  combat 
between  Arthur  and  Ofwald.     It  begins,  '  They  fight  with  fponges  in 

*  their  hands,  dipt  in  blood  ;  after  fome  equal  paflies  and  cloflng,  they 
'  both  appear  wounded.' 

I  cannot  quit  this  fubjedl  without  paying  the  tribute  of  gratitude  to 
the  memory  of  Mr.  Garrick,  for  the  improvement  he  made  in  the 
general  probability  of  reprefentation,  and  particularly  in  the  charadleriftic 
dreffes  of  the  Britifli  theatre.  Before  his  time,  or,  rather,  before  his 
reformation  of  the  fl:age,  which  v/as  long  fubfequent  to  his  being  the 
chief  ornament  of  it,  all  tragedies  were  performed  in  the  modern  drefs, 
and  even  Cato  ufed  to  flirut  over  the  fl:age  in  a  tye  wig ;  and,  in  fome 
inftances,  v.'hen  this  infringement  of  the  cofl:umi  was  only  partial,  the  ab- 
furdity  was  only  rendered  more  glaring.  While  Brutus  and  Caflius  were 
in  full  trimmed  coats,  and  tyes,  Csefar  had  a  robe,  a  bob  wig,  and  a 
laurel  crown  j  and  Falftaff  was  as  much  dlflinguiflied  by  his  drefs  as 
by  his  humour,  from  the  other  perfons  of  the  drama. 

The  reformation  of  this  impropriety  is  become  univerfal,  and  extends 
£ven  to  the  provincial  theatre. 

Z  CHAP. 


170  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vir. 


CHAP.     VIL 
NOTE     I. 

WHAT  I  MEAN    BY    ENTIRE    IS,    COMPREHENDING    IN    ITSELF    A 
BEGINNING,    A    MIDDLE,    AND    AN     END. 

INNUMERABLE  are  the  inftances  of  errors  as  to  all  thefe  points,  in 
our  dramatic  writers.  We  have  beginnings  that  require  fomething  to 
precede  them,  endings  that  do  not  conclude  the  ilory,  and  middles 
neither  connedled  with  one  or  the  other. 

As  to  the  beginning  of  a  dramatic  fable,  it  is  almoft  impoffible  that  it 
can  be  included  within  the  drama  itfelf :  as  an  event  fufficiently  great  and 
interefling  [a]  to  form  a  proper  dramatic  fable,  can  hardly  be  fuppofed  to 
begin,  and  be  completely  finifhed,  in  the  largefl  fpace  of  time  allowed  for 
the  length  of  a  tragic  adtion. 

The  greateft  difficulty,   therefore,  that  the  poet  labors  under  in  this 
cafe,  is  to  [b]  open  the  fable  to  the  audience  by  probable  means ;  in- 
deed 

[a]  See  note  iii,  chap.  vi.. 

[b]  '  I  hear  a  fuddcn  noife  in  the  ftreet,  and  run  to  fee  what  is  the  matter.  An  infurrec— 
'  tion  has  happened ;  a  great  multitude  is  brought  together,  and  fomething  very  important  is 
'  going  forward.  The  fcene  before  me  is  the  firft  thing  that  engages  my  attention,  and  is,  in 
'  itfelf,  fo  interefling,  that,  for  a  moment  or  two,  I  look  at  it  in  filcnce  and  wonder.  By  and 
•  by,  when  I  get  time  for  reflection,  I  begin  to  enquire  into  the  caufe  of  all  this  tumult,  and 

*  what 


NoT-E  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  17.1 

deed  I  hardly  know  of  any  circumftance  in  which  dramatic  writers  are 
fo  generally  blameable.  The  [c]  mode  ufually  adopted  by  the  ancients 
was  very  little  better  than  the  fcheme  of  Bayes,  to  infinuate  his  plot  into 
the  boxes.  The  modern  fafliion  is,  either  for  the  hero  or  heroine,  to  tell 
a  long  ftory  to  a  confidential  friend,  which  we  can  only  be  furprized  was 
never  done  before,  or  elfe  a  company  of  ftatefmen,  or  officers,  are  dif- 
covered  as  aftoniflied  at  fome  particular  event,  or  unufual  order,  which 
they  are  utterly  unable  to  account  for,  till  one  of  them,  better  informed 
and  more  communicative  than  the  reft,  difclofes  the  whole  fecret  for  the 
common  edification  of  his  friends  and  the  audience. 

The  advantage  tragedy  is  fuppofed  to  have,  and,  indeed,  certainly  had 
among  the  ancients,  over  comedy,  in  this  refped,  is  humoroufly  defcribed 
in  a  fragment,  either  of  Ariftophanes  or  Ariphanes,  preferved  by  Athe- 
na?us,  and  quoted  both  by  Mr.  Twining  and  Mr.  Winftanley,  of  which 
the  following  paraphraftic  tranflation  is  attempted : 

[d]   Happy  the  tragic  bard,  whofe  graver  mufe. 
Cautious,  fome  tale  of  ancient  fame  purfues ; 

Whofc 

*  what  it  is  the  people  would  be  at ;  and  one,  who  is  better  informed  than  I,  explains  the  af- 

*  fair  from  the  beginning,  or,  perhaps,  I  make  this  out  for  myfelf  from  the  words  and  actions 

*  of  the  perfons  concerned. — This  is  a  fort  of  pidure  of  poetical  arrangement  both  in  epic  and 

*  dramatic  compofition.'     Beattie  on  Poetry  and  Music,  Part  i.  Chap.  v. 

£c]  See  note  i.  chapter  xii. 

fo]   '—Moiy.d^iov  Is-iv  ^  TpxyuSix 

Yiro  Tui/  SeoIwi;  Uiriv  lyvupKrjj.iuoi 

Z  2  A7t 


172  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vir. 

Whofe  condudl  to  the  liftening  audience  known. 

Demands  the  aid  of  memory  alone. 

Name  QEdipus,  no  farther  we  enquire ; 

We  know  his  crime,  his  offspring,  and  his  fire. 

Pronounce  Alcmaeon,  boys  can  tell  the  reft. 

How  the  fad  maniac  pierc'd  a  mother's  breaft. 

Not  fo,  the  vot'ries  of  the  comic  ftage. 

New  names,  new  fadls,  the  wond'ring  ear  engage. 

All  that  precedes  the  opening  of  the  fcene. 

The  various  incidents  that  intervene 

The  bard's  creative  fancy  muft  fupply. 

And  clearly  pidure  to  the  public  eye. — 

His  own  the  aftion,  perfons,  manners,  all. 

From  the  firft  opening,  to  the  curtain's  fall. 

In  this,  if  Chremes,  or  if  Pheido  fail, 

A  hifs  of  fcorn  rewards  th'  imperfedl  tale. 

Ah  rav  TS'oi'nliv.     'OiJ'iTrBK  yaj  uv  ye  ^u 
Ta  (J'  aXXx  Trai/T  '((rua-iv.   o  zyo^rio  Aaiof, 
M>)T>if  'loHari,  OuyalspE?,   ■sraiSsf,   tusc, 

T»  STflVffi'   Qvloif  Tl   ■ar«7r0<>)>££k*   OiV   TSOiXiV 

"Ejtdi  Tif  AAxjuaiuva,    xai  t«  ■snxiSioc, 
n«k]'  £u9uj  iuprixfv,   oTi  fj-ccvtii  Kiri^ovt 
Triv  i/.ri\'ifoi.,' 

HjU,H/   Si   TOiMT     an   tri",   «AAa  ZTCiVlX   till 

'Evpi7ii  ovof/,(Aoi  xxiva,   Tcc  SiUKr)iJ.ii/«, 
IlpoTipov,   ra  i/UK  ■Erapo>1a,  rnv  K»]oif^optiii 
T?K  icSo^ilV,    a>  iV  Ti  T8TWK  7!r«f aAiVji, 

XpE//Ji5  Ttf,  ■?  (p'-tiiov  Tif  ina-v^lrliTCii, 

While 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  173 

While  unreftrain'd  by  fuch  coercive  laws, 
Peleus  and  Teucer,  win  at  once  applaufe. 

The  Englifli  reader,  if  he  pleafes,  may  fubftitute  Richard  and  Henry, 
for  Peleus  and  Teucer;  and  Belcour  and  Surface,  for  Chremes  and 
Pheido. 

It  ci'crft  be  acknowledged,  there  is  not  the  fi\me  difference  between 
tragedy  and  comedy  on  the  modern  ftage,  as  few  of  our  tragedies  are  now 
founded  on  known  flories ;  and  where  the  adlion  and  charadlers  are  the 
invention  of  the  poet,  they  are  exadlly  in  the  fame  predicament  with 
comedy.  Even  in  thofe  that  are  drawn,  either  from  our  own  annals,  or 
from  popular  tales,  it  is  a  very  inartificial  condudl  in  the  poet  to  truft  to 
the  previous  information  of  the  fpedators  for  their  underflanding  the 
piece,  fmce  every  fable  that  is  not  perfect  in  itfelf  muft  be  faulty.  Be- 
fides,  it  is  very  poffible,  as  Ariftotle  obferves  elfewhere,  (ch.  ix.)  that 
the  mofl  popular  tale  may  not  be  familiar  to  all  the  audience. 

A  defedive  middle,  which  requires  nothing  elfe  either  to  precede  or 
follow  it,  can  only  be  applicable  to  fuch  pieces,  if  any  fuch  there  are, 
where  the  body  of  the  incidents  are  epifodic,  and  are  not  either  the  con- 
fequences  of  the  opening,  or  the  caufes  of  the  cataftrophe  of  the  fable. 
Perhaps,  however,  in  thofe  plays  that  are  fpun  out  after  the  folution  of 
the  plot  is  complete,  fuch  folution  may  properly  be  called  a  middle, 
that  requires  nothing  to  follow  it.  I  muft  own,  G^^dipus,  notwithftand- 
ing  the  ingenious  defence  of  [e]  M.  D'Aubignac,  feems,  to  me,  faulty 
in  this  refpedl.  For  if  Ariftotle's  definition  of  an  end,  that,  *  it  requires 
'  nothing  to  follow  it,'  be  underftood  ftricftly,  and  not  with  relation  to 


[e]  See  Mr.  Twining's  note. 

the 


174 


A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vii. 


the  particular  flible  only,  there  can  be  no  fuch  thing  as  a  complete 
cataftrophe,  fince  the  completion  [f]  of  one  aftion  may  be  a  very  pro- 
per and  neceflary  beginning  of  another :  and  which  is,  indeed,  the  cafe 
of  the  CEdipiis  Tyrannus,  and  CEdipus  Coloneus  of  Sophocles.  But  of 
this  more  prefently. 

I  think  we  find  this  premature  cataftrophe  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice. 
The  delivery  of  Antonio,  and  the  punifhment  of  Shylock,  in  the  fourth 
a<fl,  completely  end  the  intereft  of  the  playj  and  the  laft  adt  can  be 
confidered  only  as  a  kind  of  after-piece. 

Of  abrupt  conclufions,  or  cataftrophes  that  require  other  fubfequent 
circumftances  to  render  them  complete,  Shakefpear,  like  moft  of  his 
contemporaries,  can  furnifh  feveral  inftances.  For,  as  Dr.  Johnfon  re- 
marks, in  many  of  his  plays,  '  the  latter  part  is  evidently  negledied. 

*  He  remits  his  efforts  where  he  fliould  moft  vigoroufly  exert  them  j 
'  and  his   cataftrophe  is   improbably  introduced,  or  imperfedlly  repre- 

*  fented.'  I  cannot,  however,  agree  with  the  docftor,  in  imputing  the 
fuppreflion  of  the  dialogue  between  the  ufurping  duke  and  the  hermit, 
in  As  You  Like  It,  to  any  defire  of  the  poet,  to  bring  his  piece  to  a 
hafty  conclufion.  Shakefpear  was  too  good  a  judge  of  human  nature, 
to  exert  '  his  higheft  powers  in  exhibiting  a  moral  lefTon,'  when  his 
audience  were  in  anxious  expedlation  of  an  interefting  cataftropiie ;  and 
if  he  chofe  to  bring  this  about  by  a  circumftance  fo  little  probable  as 
the  converfion  of  a  tyrant,  we  furely  cannot  blame  him  for  throwing  it 
as  much  as  poffible  into  the  fliadc.  I  muft,  however,  with  Mr.  Twining 
and  Mr.  Stevens,  regret  his  forgetfulnefs  of  poor  old  Adam.     I  think 

[p]  See  Note  iv.  Chap.  xxvi. 

the 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  175 

the  fame  thing  has  happened  with  regard  to  Poins,  in  the  conclufion  of 
the  fecond  part  of  Henry  the  Fourth.  I  {hall  not  defend  his  moral  cha- 
rafter  againft  the  ingenious  aiithor  of  the  Eflay  on  the  Dramatic  Charadilif 
of  Falflaff ;  but  he  is  certainly  drawn  as  more  of  a  gentleman  thah  ahy  6f 
the  other  companions  of  the  prince,  with  whom  he  is  apparently  a  partictt-^ 
lar  favorite,  as  well  as  I  think  he  is  with  the  poet.  In  [g]  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windfor,  the  chief  objedion  ftated  by  Page  to  Fenton,  (the 
fine  gentleman  of  the  play,  and  a  man  of  honor,)  is  his  having  kept 
company  with  the  wild  prince  and  Poins,  who  does  not  appear  in  the 
play,  though  the  other  loofe  companions  of  the  prince  are  introduced, 
with  ridicule  and  difgrace. 

The  Iliad  may  be  faid  to  fall  under  the  error  abovementioned,  of  being 
fpun  out  after  the  cataftrophe  is  compleated  [h].  Perhaps  the  JEneid,  on 
the  other  hand,  fliould  have  included  the  marriage  of  ^neas  and  Lavinia  i 
for  as  it  is  now,  it  has  all  the  appearance  of  being  unfiniflied.  No  ending 
can  be  complete  that  does  not  entirely  fatisfy  us  as  to  the  final  fituation  of 
the  principal  charadlers,  as  far  as  it  arifes  from,  or  is  connedled  with  the 
incidents  of  the  aiftion.  The  Odylfey  would  be  perfeft  in  this  relpedl  if 
it  ended  with  the  twenty-third  book.     The  laft  book  feems  fuperfluous; 

[g]  1  am  furprized,  that  in  the  eflay  abovementioned,  no  notice  is  taken  of  this  comedy. 
I  allow  the  characler  of  FalftafF  is  there  greatly  inferior  to  the  original  draught,  in  the  two 
parts  of  Henry  iv.  but  though  it  is  a  copy,  it  is  ftill  a  copy  done  by  the  hand  of  the  mafter 
himfelf,  and  from  which  his  own  opinion,  as  to  the  charadler  he  himfelf  defigned,  might  be 
beft  afcertained  ;  and  1  think  that  opinion  would  be  in  favor  of  the  hypothefis  there  fupported. 
In  the  important  bufinefs  of  intriguing,  many  a  brave  man  has  taken  a  drubbing  in  difguife. 
See  Note  i.  Chap.  xv. 

[h]  See  Note  iv.  Chap.  xxvi. 

and 


1-76  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vri. 

and  has  been,  by  many  critics,  fuppofed  not  genuine,  but  an  addition 
by  fome  other  hand,  to  make  the  number  of  books  equal  to  thof  of  the 
IHad. 


An  hiflorical  fable  has,  in  this  refped,  a  difadvantagc,  which  is  not 
incident  to  one  entirely  invented  by  the  poet.  For  we  are  acquainted 
with  fucceeding  incidents  which  may  counteract  the  pleafure  we  receive 
from  the  winding  up  of  the  aftion.  This  is  not  found  in  the  unhappy 
cataftrophe,  which  is  generally  fatal  to  the  principal  charafters ;  but  in 
an  adlion  which  ends  happily,  our  pleafure  mufl  be  greatly  abated  when 
we  know  fome  terrible  difafler  is  to  fucceed  the  temporary  good  fortune 
of  the  perfons,  in  whofe  actions  we  have  been  ftrongly  interefted.  The 
cataftrophe  of  the  battle  of  Hexham  has  this  defc6t ;  and  I  much  doubt 
if  an  Athenian,  that  had  juft  come  from  the  reprefentation  of  the  UlyfTes 
wounded  [i],  would  receive  the  fame  pleafure  that  another  perfon  would, 
from  the  conclulion  of  the  OdyfTey. 

M.  Lcfling,  in  his  Dramaturgic,  makes  a  diftindion  between  the 
apologue  and  the  epic  or  dramatic  fable,  as  to  the  conclufion.  In  the 
firft,  he  fays,  the  end  is  attained  as  foon  as  fome  moral  is  enforced,  and 
we  trouble  ourfelves  little  a'  out  the  charadlcrs  afterwards.  He  applies 
this  to  the  conclufion  of  one  of  Marmontel's  tales,  and  a  comedy  taken 
from  it,  where  he  mentions  the  abfurdity  of  cal.ing  thofe  compofitions 
moral  tales,  and  adds,  *  unhappily  I  have  never  been  able  to  difcover  their 
'  morality.'  But  Lcs  Contes  Moreaux  have  no  fuch  pretenfion.  They 
are  not  meant  for  tales,  illuflrating  fome  moral  truth,  but  talcs,  dcfcrip- 

[i]  A  tragedy,  mentioned  by  Aiiftotle,  in  Chap.  xiv.  founded,  I  imagine,  on  the  flory  of 
his  death  from  an  accidental  wound  given  him  by  his  fon  Telegonus. 

tive 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  177 

tive  of  manners ;  and  [k]  are  very  improperly  tranflated  moral  tales. 
Unluckily  we  have  no  adjedlive  equivalent  with  the  French  word  moral, 
unlefs  we  ufe  [l]  ethic ;  and  I  fuppofe  the  German  has  the  fame  defici- 
ency ;  but,  furely,  the  miftake  might  have  been  noticed  in  the  French 
tranllation  of  M.  Leffing,  through  the  medium  of  which  alone  I  am 
acquainted  with  that  original  and  penetrating  critic. 

What  fliould  we  fay  of  the  abfurdity  of  a  poet,  who,  after  finishing 
a  fable  completely,  were  to  add  a  fupplement,  deftroying  the  effeft  of 
the  whole;  and  yet  this  M.  Rouffeau  has  done,  in  the  fequel  toEmilius, 
publifhed  among  his  pofthumous  works.  As  the  Emilius  is  a  kind  of 
apologue,  to  inculcate  a  peculiar  mode  of  education,  fuch  a  condudl  is 
like  a  child's  taking  great  pains  to  build  a  houfe  with  cards,  and  then 
throwing  it  down  again. 


NOTE     II. 

BEAUTY    DEPENDS    ON    SIZE    AS    WELL     AS    SYMMETRY. 

ARISTOTLE  having,  in  his  definition  of  tragedy,  mentioned  [m] 
the  poffeffing  a  certain  degree  of  magnitude  as  one  of  its  effential  requi- 
fites,  now  proceeds  to  explain  what  he  means  by  magnitude.     He  firft 

[k]  See  Andrews's  anecdotes.  I  mufl  acknowledge  an  error  in  this  point,  in  my  firll: 
edition  of  the  Poetic,  and  my  obligation  to  the  Critical  Review  for  remarking  it. 

[l]  Thofe  works  of  Mr.  Pope,  which,  in  the  earlier  editions,  were  ftyled  ethic  epiftles, 
have  had  their  titles  fmce  changed  to  moral  epiftles,  though  they  certainly  have  more  relation 
to  manners  than  morals. 

A  a  informs 


178  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vir. 

informs  us,  that  not  only  a  juft  proportion  of  parts,  but  fize  alfo,  fuffi- 
cient  to  give  tTie  eye  a  power  of  readily  obferving  that  proportion,  is 
eflential  to  beauty :  and,  as  an  illuftration  of  this,  he  mentions  a  very 
fmall  animal,  (fuch,  I  fuppofe,  as  an  infedt,)  where  the  parts  are  too, 
minute  to  be  obferved.  After  this,  left  the  hypothefis  fhould  be  carried  tooj 
far,  and  beauty  fhould  be  fuppofed  to  encreafe  always  according  to  fize,  he 
fliews,  that  the  fame  defedt  will  alfo  arife  from  extreme  magnitude,  and 
the  proportion  of  the  parts  will  equally  efcape  our  obfervation.  He 
then  proceeds  to  apply  this  to  dramatic  adlion,  which,  he  fays,  will  en- 
creafe in  beauty,  according  to  its  magnitude,  provided  it  is  not  fo  large, 
but  that  the  whole  may  eafily  be  comprehended  by  the  memory  j  that 
is,  I  conceive,  that  the  connexion  of  the  beginning,  the  middle,  and  the 
end,  with  each  other,  may  be  readily  perceived  and  retained.  And,  left 
he  fliould  be  mifanderftood,  and  fuppofed  to  be  fpeaking  of  the  adual 
bulk  of  the  tragedy,  he  fays,  in  direct  terms,  that  it  is  nothing  to  the 
purpofe ;  for  if  from  the  practice  of  the  theatre,  the  time  of  reprefen- 
tation,  and,  confequently,  the  bulk  of  the  piece,  fliould  be  exadlly 
limited,  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  length  of  the  dramatic  fable,  whofe 
excellence  encreafes  in  proportion  to  its  magnitude,  provided  it  is  not 
too  large  to  be  perfpicuous.  After  this  explicit  diftindlion  between  the 
time  of  reprefentation,  and  the  extent  of  the  fable,  and  which  feems  to 
have  been  made,  from  a  notion  that  they  might  be  confounded,  ftiall  we 
ftill  be  told  that  Ariftotle  direfts  they  ought  to  be  exadly  regulated  by 
each  other  ? 

The  general  fondnefs  of  the  Greeks  for  magnitude  in  their  ob- 
jeds  of  beauty,  is  very  ftriking  in  the  examples  here  brought  by 
Ariftotle  to  illuftrate  his  pofition.  He  can  find  in  nature  objedls 
too  fmall,    but  none  too  large ;    and  he  is   obliged   to  have  recourfe 

to 


Note  11.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  179 

to  an  imaginary  animal,  feveral  miles  in  length.  As  for  the  Greeks 
efteeming  fize,  and  even  itrcngth,  as  requiiites  to  female  beauty,  the 
caufe  is  not  of  very  difficult  inveftigation.  In  the  ancient  common- 
wealths, where  there  was  no  diftin(ftion  between  the  foldier  and  the 
citizen ;  where  civil  authority  could  not  be  enjoyed  without  military 
fervice,  nor  military  fervice  performed  without  ftrength  of  body,  the 
having  a  ftrong  and  vigorous  offspring  was  the  firft,  and,  indeed,  almofl 
the  only  objedt  in  marriage  j  for  wealth  and  rank  were  feldom  attainable 
by  matrimonial  connexions.  Among  modern  nations,  in  general,  thefe 
laft  are  the  only  objedls  confidered  in  marriage  [n];  and  even  in  this 
country,  where  matches  of  inclination  are  more  frequent,  from  our 
great  intercourfe  with  women,  and  their  fuperior  information  and  accom- 
plifliments,  we  are  attached  by  a  thoufand  means,  which  were  perfectly 
unknown  to  the  fecluded  beauties  of  Greece. 

A  very  elegant  critic,  it  is  true  [o],   fays,   that  '  beautiful  objefts  are 

*  fmall.'  But  though  under  the  word  beauty  here,  {to  kolKov)  Ariftotle, 
undoubtedly,  comprehends  fublimity  as  well  as  beauty,  I  can  by  no 
means  entirely  agree  with  the  hypothefis  of  Mr.  Burke.  Surely  a  woman 
of  the  largefl  fize,  juftly  and  elegantly  proportioned,  with  foftnefs  and 
delicacy  of  countenance,  mildnefs  of  manner,  and  eyes  *  expref^ve,'  (to 
ufe  Mr.  Burke's  own  words)   *  of  fuch  gentle  and  amiable  qualities,  as 

*  correfpond  with  the  foftnefs,  fmoothnefs,  and  delicacy  of  the  outward 

[n]  '  Anxious  to  match  the  generous  fteed, 

'  V/here  ftrength  and  fwiftnefs  mark  the  breed, 

'  Regardiefs  of  his  heir.' 

Marriage  an  Ode,  anon, 

[o]  Mr.  Burke's  Enquiry  into  the  Origin  of  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful,  Part  iii.  feci.  iii. 

A  a  2  '  form,' 


i8o  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  vii. 

'  form,'  may  be  more  ftridily  called  beautiful,  even  in  the  fenfe  of  Mr. 
Burke,  than  a  little  piquante  brunette,  whofe  lively  eyes  partake  fome- 
thing  of  the  Setvov,  which  he  confiders  as  a  caufe  of  the  fublime  [p]. 

I  do  not  mean  that  the  fize  fhould  be  extraordinary,  any  thing  unna- 
tural, whether  large  or  fmall ;  any  tendency  to  the  dv/arf,  or  the  giant, 
can  have  no  pretenfions  to  the  merit  [q^]  of  female  beauty.  Mr.  Burke, 
indeed,  makes  the  exception  as  to  the  dwarf.     He  fays,  *  fhould  a  per- 

*  fon  be  found  not  above  two  or  three  feet  high,  fuppofing  fuch  a  perfon 

*  to  have  all  the  parts  of  his  (her)  body  of  a  delicacy  fuitable  to  fuch  a 

*  fize,  and  otherwife  endued  with  the  common  qualities  of  other  beau- 

*  tiful  bodies,  I  am  pretty  well  convinced  that  a  perfon  of  fuch  a  ftature 
'  might  be  confidered  as  beautiful,  might  be  the  object  of  love.' 
It  is  to  be  remarked,  that  the  example  is  a  male ;  if  it  had  been  a 
female,  or,  being  a  male,  if  Mr.  Burke  had  confulted  the  ladies,  perhaps 
his  convidtion  might  not  have  been  quite  fo  ftrong,  efpecially  as  to  the 
lafl  pofition.  He  adds,  however  j  *  the  only  thing  which  could  inter- 
'  pofe  to  check  our  pleafure  is,   that  fuch  creatures,  however  formed, 

*  are  unufual,  and  are  often  confidered  as  fomething  monftrous.' 
Essay  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful,  Part  iv.  Sect.  xxiv. 

[p]  In  this  cafe,  however,  it  would  not  partake  of  the  fublime  ;  for  though  beauty  may  be 
compatible  witli  large  objefts,  fublimity  is  perfetSly  incompatible  with  fmall  ones. 

[qj  See  Note  v.  Chap.  xxvi. 


CHAP. 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  18] 


CHAP.      VIII. 
NOTE     I. 

THE    UNITY    OF    A  FABLE  DOES   NOT  DEPEND   UPON  ITS  RELATING 

TO    ONE    PERSON    ONLY. 

J.  H I S  by  no  means  implies,  that  there  is  [a]  no  kind  of  unity  in  a 
tale  which  relates  the  adlions  of  one  perfon  only ;  or,  that  there  is  not 
more  uniformity  in  the  works  of  a  biographer  than  a  general  hiftorian : 
though  a  certain  degree  of  unity  of  aftion  is  necefiary  even  in  hiftory  to 
render  it  perfedl  [b1.  But  that  a  greater  degree  of  unity  is  necefiary  in 
a  dramatic  adion,  of  which  he  is  now  treating,  and  even  in  the  fimilar 
though  more  extended  compofition  of  the  epopee.  It  therefore  follows, 
that  all  works  of  fidlion  that  aflume  an  hiftoric,  rather  than  an  epic  form, 
are  deficient  in  poetical  arrangement.  The  instances  he  produces  are 
lofl.     However,  there  is  no  deficiency  of  examples,  both  ancient  and 

[a]  See  Hume's  Effay  on  the  Aflbciatlon  of  Ideas. 

[b]  See  Note  ii.  Chap,  xxiii.  The  following  judicious  ohfervation  of  Mr.  Gilpin, 
will  elucidate  the  difference  between  the  unity  of  poetry  and  hiftory.  '  It  is,  perhaps, 
'  one  of  the  great  errors  in  painting,  (as,  indeed,  it  is  in  all  literary  as  well  as  piiSurefque 
'  compofition,)  to  be  more  attentive  to  the  finifliing  of  parts,  than  the  produdion  of  a  whole. 
'  Whereas  the  mafter's  great  care  {hould  be,  firft  to  contrive  a  whole,  and  then  to  adapt  the 
'  parts  as  artificially  as  he  can.  I  fpeak  of  imaginary  landfcape  :  when  he  paints  a  real 
'  view,  his  management  muft  be  juft  the  reverfe.  He  has  the  parts  given  him;  and  he  muft 
'  form  them  into  a  whole  as  he  can.'     Remarks  on  Forest  Scenery. 

modern. 


i82  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  via. 

modern,    fuch  as   the   [c]  CyropcEdia  of  Xenophon,  the  Achilleid  of 
Statius,  and  Gil  Bias  [d]. 

Metaftafio  is  of  opinion,  that  Ariftotle  has  carried  the  unity  of  poetic 
fable  too  far,  when  he  fays  nothing  can  be  efteemed  a  parf  of  it,  which 
cannot  be  taken  away  without  deranging  the  whole.  But  he  is  obvioufly 
fpeaking  here  of  the  fimple  tragic,  and  epic  adlion,  diverted  of  all  their  epi- 
fodic  and  ornamental  parts;  juft  like  the  fpecimen  he  gives  of  the  Iphigenia 
in  Tauris,  and  the  Odyfley,  in  the  feventeenth  chapter.  One  of  the  inci- 
dents of  the  Life  of  Ulyfles,  which  he  mentions  as  omitted  by  Homer, 
([e]  except  the  reading  propofed  by  Harles  is  adopted,)  is  introduced  in 
detail,  in  the  ninth  book  of  the  Odyfley ;  but  it  is  only  introduced,  to 
ufe  the  words  of  Mr.  Twining,  '  digreffively  and  incidentally,  it  makes 
*  no  eflential  part  of  his  general  plan.'  Ariftotle,  in  another  inftance, 
has  not  [f]  been  accurate  in  marking  the  diftindlion  between  the  plain 
fable,  and  the  fable  adorned  with  epifodes. 

If  this  rule  is  applied  to  the  inimitable  comic  epopees  of  Fielding, 
and  efpecially  to  Tom  Jones,  how  many  of  the  eflential  parts  will  be 
found  fo  wonderfully  conne(aed,  that  even  circumflances,  apparently  the 
moft  trifling,  have  confequences  fo  interwoven  with  the  plot,  and  fo 
conducive   to  the  folution  of  it,   that  they  cannot  be  taken  away,  or 

[c]  The  principal  part,  even  of  this  work,  is  confined  to  the  tranfaiSlions  of  one  cam- 
paign i  and  it  is  a  doubt  if  it  is  fidlitious.  The  fadls  arc  certainly  altered  and  embelliftied  ; 
but  this  is  too  often  the  cafe  with  tl\e  ancient  hiflorians. 

[d]  See  Beattie  on  Fable  and  Romance. 

[e]  See  Note  [b]  Chap.  viii.  on  the  tranfl-ition. 

[f]  See  Note  [i]  Chap,  xxvl  on  the  tianflation. 

altered. 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  183 

altered,  without  changing  and  injuring  the  whole  compofition.  And 
yet  there  are  many  epifodic  parts,  which,  though  highly  ornamental, 
may  be  removed  without  at  all  interfering  with  the  general  effedl  of  the 
adtion.  (I  [g]  do  not  call  the  Hiflory  of  the  Man  of  the  Hill  an  epi- 
fode  J  it  is  a  feparate  tale.) 

That  in  all  fidtitious  narrative,  whofe  aim  is  to  affedl  the  paffions, 
the  poetical  arrangement  is  naturally  and  obvioufly  preferable  to  the 
hiftorical,  may  be  fairly  inferred,  from  the  univerfal  adoption  of  it  by  all 
the  novel-writers,  good  and  bad  :  a  defcription  of  authors  not  very  likely 
to  be  influenced  in  their  choice  by  the  rules  of  Ariftotle.  Indeed,  the 
hiftoric  form,  though  it  may  fucceed  in  humorous  compofitions,  is 
almoft  incompatible  with  a  pathetic  tale  j  fince  to  be  interefting,  the  cir- 
cumflances  muft  be  particularly  related,  which  would  either  fwell  the 
work  to  an  enormous  fize,  or  [h]  break  it  fo  into  parts,  as  muft  be  dif- 
agreeable  to  every  reader.  For  this  reafon  the  extent  of  the  dramatic 
adion  is  naturally  more  confined  than  the  epic,  both  from  the  intereft 
being  ftronger  [i],  and,  confequently,  its  going  more  into  detail,  and  the 
divifion  of  the  fable  into  parts  being  more  obvious,  and  on  that  account 
more  difgufting  to  the  fpedlator,  and  hence  the  unity  of  time,  though 
not  carried  to  the  excefs  prefcribed  by  the  French  critics,  is  a  neceffary 
confideration  in  the  drama.  Shakefpear,  it  is  true,  reconciles  us  to  the 
breach  of  it ;  but  what  modern  poet  would  prefume  to  follow  his 
example  ? 

[g]  See  Note  i.  Chap,  xxiii. 
[h]  See  Note  ii.  Chap.  xxiv. 
[ij  Note  III.  Chap,  xxvi, 

CHAP. 


i84  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  ix. 


CHAP.      IX. 

NOTE    I. 

IP  THE  WORK  OF  HERODOTUS  WERE  PUT  INTO  VERSE,  IT  WOULD 
BE  NO  LESS  A  SPECIES  OF  HISTORY  IN  VERSE  THAN  IT  IS  IN 
PROSE. 

1  ACKNOWLEDGE  myfelf  to  have  been  one  of  the  many  tranfla- 
tors,  juftly  blamed  by  Mr.  Twining,  for  neglefting  the  force  of 
the  expreffion  'l^ofia  th;,  a  fort,  or  fpecies  of  hiilory,  and  which,  in 
this  edition,  I  have  corredted  from  his  obfervation,  which  I  ihall  take 
the  hberty  of  inferting.  *  May  we  not  infer  from  this  expreffion  [a], 
'  that  if  Ariftotle  had  been  aflced  whether  an  epic  compofition  in  profe, 

*  would  be  a  poem  or  not,  he  would  have  allowed  it  to  be  ■uroi-/;f/.cc  n,  a 

*  kind  of  poem,  as  having  the  effence  of  poetry,  invention  and  imitation  ?' 
To  this,  however,  he  would  probably  have  added,  that  it  would  only  be  an 
imperfeft  kind  of  poem,  from  wanting  the  ornament  of  verfification, 
as  the  work  of  Herodotus  in  verfe  would  be  only  a  fpurious  kind  of 
hiflory  from  pofTeffing  it. 

Metaftafio   has   rendered  this  paflage  properly  ;  [b]   *  it  would  ftill 

*  continue,  though  in  verfe,  a  fpecies  of  hiftory,  as  it  was  in  profe.' 
Yet   in    his  obfervations,    anxious  to  fupport  the  hypothecs   he  had 

[a]  See  Note  iii.  Chap.  i. 

[b]  '  Rimarreble  come  era  in  profa,  fcmpre  una  fpecie  d'iftoria,  ancora  in  verfi.' 

advanced. 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  1^5 

advanced,  that  poetry  was,  in  any  fcnfe,  incompatible  with  prole,  and 
yet  finding  it  impoflible  to  avoid  feeing  the  contrary  do6trine  was  in 
fome  meafure  fupported  by  Ariftotle's  affertion  that  it  is  the  conftruc- 
tion  of  the  fable,  and  not  of  the  verfe,  that  diftinguifhes  the  poet  from 
the  hiftorian,  he  runs  into  an  unjuftifiable  refinement  on  the  words  and 
fenfe  of  the  critic,  and  fiys  he  only  means,  that  a  perfon  who  writes 
on  unpoetical  fubjeds  in  verfe,  is  not  a  good  poet :  juft  as  we  call  a 
man  that  is  awkward,  dirty,  and  cowardly,  no  foldier,  though  enlifted, 
and  receiving  pay,  and  really  a  foldier  in  the  legal  and  political  fenfe  of 
the  word.  The  fallacy  of  this  argument  mufi:  ftrike  every  one  in  a 
variety  of  inftances ;  and  it  is,  befides,  in  diredl  oppofition  to  the  doc- 
trine of  Ariftotle,  fince,  on  this  fuppofition,  verfe  is  the  eifential  requi- 
fite  of  poetry,  and  imitation  only  a  quality.  The  fum  of  Ariftotle's 
reafoning  on  the  fubjeft,  which  is  diredlly  contrary  to  the  idea  of  Metaf- 
tafio,  feems  to  be  this  ;  *  Whoever  forms  a  fable,  imitative  of  human 
'  adtions,  is  a  poet,  a  maker,  an.  inventor.  If  his  fible  is  ill  condudled, 
'  he  is  a  bad  poet.     If  he  writes  it  in  profe,  he  errs  as   to  the  proper 

*  material,  or  means  of  imitation.     But  if  he  forms  no  imitative  fable, 

*  he  is  no  poet.' 

NOTE      II. 

POETRY      IS     THEREFORE     MORE     PHILOSOPHICAL      AND     INSTRUC- 
TIVE   THAN    HISTORY. 

LORD  BACON,  in  his  Treatife  of  the  Advancement  of  Learning, 
has  fo  good  a  comment  on  this  paflage,  that  I  trufl:  the  reader  will  not 
be  difpleafed  with  me  for  faving  him  the  trouble  of  referring  to  it. 

B  b  *  The 


i86  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  ix. 

[c]  '  The  ufe  of  this  feigned  hiftory  hath  been  to  give  fome  lliadow 

*  of  fatisfadlion  to  the  mind  of  man  in  thofe  points,  wherein  the  nature 

*  of  things  doth  deny  it ;  the  world  being,   in  proportion,  inferior  to 

*  the  foul ;  by  reafon  whereof  there  is,  agreeable  to  the  fpirit  of  man, 

*  a  more  ample  greatnefs,  a  more  exaft  goodnefs,  and  a  more  abfolute 

*  variety,  than  can  be  found  in  the  nature  of  things.     Therefore,  be- 

*  caufe  the  adls  or  events  of  true  hiftory  have  not  that  magnitude  which 

*  fatisfieth  the  mind  of  man,  poefy  feigneth  adls  and  events  greater,  and 

*  more  heroical :   becaufe  true  hiftory  propoundeth   the   fuccefles  and 

*  iflues  of  aftions  not  fo  agreeable  to  the  merits  of  virtue  and  vice,  there- 

*  fore  poefy  feigns  them  more  juft  in  retribution,  and  more  according  to 

*  revealed  providence :    becaufe    true   hiftory    reprefenteth  adlions  and 

*  events  more  ordinary,  and  lefs  interchanged  ;  therefore  poefy  endueth 

*  them  with  more  rarenefs,  and  more  unexpedted  and  alternative  varia- 

*  tions  :   fo  as  it  appeareth  that  poefy  ferveth  and  conferreth  to  magna- 
'  nimity,    morality,   and   to   delegation.     And,  therefore,   it  was  ever 

*  thought  to  have  fome  participation  of  divinenefs,  becaufe  it  doth  raife 

*  and  eredt  the  mind,  by  fubmitting  the  fliews  of  things  to  the  defires 

*  of  the  mind  j  whereas  reafon  doth  buckle  and  bow  the  mind  unto  the 

*  nature  of  things.' 

[c]  It  muft  be  owned,  that  an  eminent  writer  of  the  prefent  day,  profeiTcs  to  be  of  the 
contrary  opinion.  '  The  Cyropcedia  is  vague  and  languid,  the  Anabafis  circumilantial  and 
*■  animated  ;  fuch  is  the  eternal,  difference  between  fiftion  and  truth.'  Decline  and  Fall 
OF  THE  Roman  Empire,  Chap.  xxiv.Note  115.  Some  perfons  will,  poflibly,  be  inclined 
to  doubt  the  infallibility  as  well  as  the  eternity  of  this  doftrine,  and  even  the  comparifon  that 
occafioncd  it;  and  may  doubt  whether  this  eternal  diftinflion  between  truth  and  fidion  would 
be  eafily  difcoverable  in  a  comparifon  between  Homer  and  Thucydides.  We  may,  however, 
readily  excufe  Mr.  Gibbon,  for  his  partiality  to  a  fpecies  of  literature,  in  which  he  has  fhcwn. 
fo  much  excellence. 

NOTE 


Note  in.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  187 


NOTE      III. 

IN    COMEDY,    POETS    FIRST    FORM     THE     FABLE,     AND     THEN    ADD 

ANY    CASUAL    NAMES. 

WE  have  already  been  Hiewn,  as  the  firft  diftindlion  between  hiftoiy 
and  poetry,  that  one  defcribes  the  real  adlions  of  a  particular  perfon,  the 
other  fid:itious,  though  probable  events  that  are  fuppofed  to  happen  to  an 
imaginary  one.     And  fuch  qualities  are  to  be  given   to  this  imaginary 
perfon,  as  will  befl:  fuit  thefe  events,  and  the  part  he  takes  in  them  ; 
and  thefe  qualities  are  not  only  to  be  marked  by  the  acflion  and  fenti- 
ments,  but  even  the  names  given  to  the  charadlers  fhould  be  expreffive 
of  them.     It  feems,  however,  that  having  fiid   this,  the  critic  recol- 
lefted,  that  in  tragedy  the  pracflice  was  different  :  for  though  the  inci- 
dents, the  manners,   and  the  fentiments,  were  to  be  formed  on  general 
nature,    the  names   were  to  be  thofe   of  real   hiftorical  perfons.     In 
comedy,  hov/evcr,  he  fays,  names  expreffive  of  the  quality  of  the  cha- 
radler  are  ufed.     And,  indeed,  by  this  contrivance,   the  inconvenience 
attending    comedy,    mentioned   in   the   fragment,    quoted    in    Note  i. 
Chap.  VII.  is,   in  great  meafure,   obviated.     For  if  the  quality  of  the 
tragic  perfon  is  known  as  foon  as  his  name  is  announced  from  recollec- 
tion, the  fame  thing  will  happen  in  comedy,  if  fuch  charadieriftic  appel- 
lations are  given  as  Pamphilus,  or  Parmeno,   Dapperwit,  or  Wellbred. 
Steele,  however,  in  the  firft  number  of  his  paper,  called  The  Lover,  in- 
tended as  a  kind  of  fequel  to  the  Spectator,  makes  the  following  obferva- 
tion  on  this  practice.     '  I  fliall  ffiun  alfo  names  fignificant  of  the  perfon's 
^  charader  of  whom  I  talk ;  a  trick  ufed  by  playwrights,  which  I  have 

B  b  2  *  long 


i88  A  COxMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  ix. 

'  long  thought  no  better  a  device  than  of  underwriting  the  name  of  an 

*  animal  on  a  poft,  which  the  painter  conceived  too  delicately  drawn  to 

*  be  known  by  common  eyes,  or  by  his  delineation  of  the  limbs.'  It  is 
remarkable,  than  in  this  identical  paper,  an  old  bachelor  is  called  Wild- 
goofe  i  and,  in  the  next,  the  fuppofed  author  of  the  work,  the  Lover,  is 
named  Marmaduke  Myrtle.  Indeed,  the  mixture  of  charadleriftic  names 
with  common  ones,  though  very  abfurd,  is  not  unufual.  In  the  Jealous 
Wife  we  meet  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oakly,  Sir  Harry  Beagle,  and  Terence 
Ocutter  :  and,  in  its  archetype  Tom  Jones,  Allworthy  flands  alone  among 
an  hofh  of  common  names.  Another  impropriety  often  attends  charac- 
teriftic  names  in  modern  comedy,  from  the  huiband  and  wife  having 
the  fame  name  ;  in  confequence  of  this  a  very  quiet  nobleman,  in  one 
of  Congreve's  comedies,  is  called  Lord  Touchwood ;  and  this  impro- 
priety is  ftill  greater  when  the  charadlers  of  the  hufband  and  wife  are 
particularly  contrafted  as  to  their  condudl  to  each  other.  Where  is  the 
propriety  of  Mrs.  Bruin,  and  Mrs.  Sneak,  in  the  Mayor  of  Garrat.?  In 
Mr.  Cumberland's  Obferver,  there  is  a  very  well  condudted  and  interefl- 
ing  fable,  where  the  principal  perfon,  from  his  indolence  of  difpofition, 
is  called  Ned  Drowfy.  This  gentleman,  like  Cymon,  is  entirely  altered 
by  falling  in  love,  and  he  becomes  a  very  fpirited  and  active  young  man. 
His  name,  therefore,  ceafing  to  be  expreffive  of  his  characfter,  the  poet 
is  obliged  to  change  it  by  an  application  to  parliament.  The  introducing 
a  kind  of  pun  on  the  charadteriftic  name  given  by  the  author,  one 
fhould  conceive  the  loweft  effort  of  dulnefs  to  excite  a  laugh,  and  yet  it 
is  praftifed  by  relpedtable  writers  ;  as  for  example  :  in  the  Provoked 
Hufband,  Manly   fays   to  Sir  Francis,  *   O    thou  head  of  the  wrong- 

*  heads.'     Of  all  writers,  Mr.  Anflcy  has  made  the  mofl  happy  ufe  of 
charaderiflic  names  in  the  Bath  Guide.     They  really  contribute  greatly 

to 


Note  in.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  189 

to  the  humour  of  a.  poem,  which  draws  it,  befides,   from  a  thoufand 
diifferent  fources. 


On  the  Greek  theatre,  the  comic  fcene,  like  the  tragic,  was  always 
laid  at  home.  Indeed,  it  could  be  laid  no  where  elfe.  They  knew  the 
manners  of  no  other  people.  Terence  adopted  Athenian  manners  from 
Menander;  and  Moliere,  in  many  of  his  pieces,  from  Terence.  The 
whole  intereft  of  L'Etourdi  turns  on  the  purchafe  of  a  Have.  Our 
older  comedies  are  generally  founded  on  foreign  ftories.  The  only 
comedy  of  Shakefpear,  where  the  fcene  is  laid  in  England,  (except  the 
comic  parts  of  his  hiftorical  plays),  is  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windfor. 
The  fame  remark  is,  in  general,  applicable  to  Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 
A  [d]  Spanifh  ftory,  with  fome  EngliOi  charafters  introduced,  was,  for 
a  confiderable  rime,  much  the  fafhion  here,  and  is  flill  a  favorite  fubjedt 
for  the  mufical  drama.  The  regular  comedy,  at  prefent,  I  believe,  con- 
fines itfelf  to  domeflic  fable  and  charadler,  if  not  to  domeftic  fcene ;  for, 
I  believe,  the  comic  mufe  has  ventured  to  crofs  both  the  Indian  and 
Atlantic  Oceans,  to  vifit  our  colonies. 

[d]  I  would  recommend  to  thofe  critics  who  think  they  can  explain  every  pafTage  In  the 
ancient  dramatic  writers,  to  turn  their  thoughts  to  the  following  fpeech,  in  one  of  Dryden's 
comedies,  which,  to  me,  has  always  been  perfeiSlly  unintelligible.  It  is  in  the  Mock  Aftro- 
loger,  where  a  Spanifli  charadter,  refufing  to  enter  into  a  fcheme  as  inconfiftent  with  his 
honor,  an  Englifliman  fays  to  him,  '  Nay,  and  you  talk  of  honor  ;  by  your  leave,  Sir,  I  hate 
'  your  Spanifh  honor  ever  fince  it  fpoiled  our  Englifti  plays  with  faces  about,  and 
'  t'other  side.' 


NOTE 


190  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  ix. 


NOTE     IV. 

IN    TRAGEDY,    THE    NAMES    OF    PERSONS    WHO    HAVE    REALLY 
EXISTED    ARE    RETAINED. 

BESIDES  the  reafon  given  by  Ariftotle  for  this,  there  was  another 
very  eflential  one  on  the  Grecian  ftage.  Hiftory,  in  the  time  of  Sopho- 
cles and  Euripides,  was  much  confined.  The  Greeks  confidered  all 
natioas  but  themfelves  as  barbarians.  A  king  of  Scythia  would  have 
been  confidered  as  an  improper  charadler  for  a  tragic  hero  on  their 
theatre ;  and  to  kings,  and  great  public  characters,  the  tragic  mufe  of 
Greece  was  confined. 


'  Reges  atque  tetrarchas 


*  Omnia  magna  loquens.' Hor. 

We,  befides  the  private  life  tragedy,  and  the  obfcure  ages  of  antiquity, 
with  which  we  may  take  what  liberty  we  pleafe,  have  an  ample  fource 
of  domeftic  fidlion  in  the  Saxon  heptarchy,  where  we  may  form  ima- 
ginary Ofwalds  and  Edgars  ufurpers,  or  kings  of  Mercia  and  Northum- 
berland at  our  pleafure ;  but  the  hiflory  of  the  fabulous  ages  of 
Greece  was  the  moft  popular  of  any.  It  was,  indeed,  confecrated  as 
the  origin  of  the  national  religion ;  and  the  introdudlion  of  a  new  hero, 
or  demigod,  would  have  been  efteemed  a  fort  of  profanation.  Ad- 
mitting the  rule,  that  public  events,  are  the  only  proper  objedls  of 
tragic   imitation,  the   reafoning   of   Le   Pere  Brumoy   is   perfedtly  juft. 

*  It  is  not  probable  that  events  of  fuch  magnitude  as  thofe  of  tragedy, 

*  events  which  can  only  happen  iji  the  palaces  of  kings,  or  the  bolbm 

'  of 


NoTEV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  191 

*  of  empires,  fhould  be  abfolutely  unknown.     If  then,  the  poet  invents 

*  all  his  fubjeft,  even  as  far  as  the  names,  the  mind  of  the  fpedlators 

*  will  revolt,  all  will  appear  incredible,  and  the  piece  will  fail  in  its 

*  efFedl  for  want  of  probability. 


NOTE     V. 

rVEN  IF  THE  POEM  IS  FOUNDED  ON  REAL  FACTS,  THE  AUTHOR 
MAY  YET  BE  A  POET  j  SINCE  THERE  IS  NO  REASON  WHY 
MANY  EVENTS  THAT  HAVE  REALLY  HAPPENED,  MAY  NOT  BE 
CAPABLE  OF  THAT  GENERAL  PROBABILITY  AND  POSSIBILITY, 
FROM  THE  PROPER  ARRANGEMENT  OF  WHICH  HE  MAY  JUSTLY 
BE    ESTEEMED    A    POET. 

T  O  explain  this  clearly,  It  will  be  neceffary  to  go  a  little  back.  We 
have  feen  Ariftotle  has  declared  general  and  probable  ficflion,  and  not 
particular  fadl,  to  be  the  proper  fubjedl  of  poetry.  But  he  is  afked, 
is  the  falfhood  of  the  adtion  abfolutely  neceflary  ?  Can  no  real  event 
have  intereft  enough  to  form  a  tragedy,  when  moft  of  the  fubjedts  of 
the  Greek  tragedies  are  taken  from  hiftoiy  ?  To  this  the  critic  anfwers, 
no  doubt  there  are  many  real  and  particular  events,  that  have  all  the 
general  probability  neceflary  for  a  poetic  fable.  Another  objedlion  im- 
mediately occurs.  If  the  tragic  writer  only  clothes  fads,  prepared  to 
his  hands,  in  ornamented  language,  how  can  he  be  efleemed  a  poet, 
wanting  the  efiential  requifite  of  the  poetical  charadrer,  invention  ?  To 
this  he  replies,  there  is  no  real  event  that  has  not  fome  circumftances 
connedled  with  it,   difcordant  with  the  [e]  general  emotions  it  is  on  the 

[e]  See  Note  i.  Chap.  vi.     See  alfo  Note  11.  Chap.  xiv.  and  Note  iv.  Chap.  xvii.. 

whole 


192  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  ix. 

whole  calculated  to  excite.  And  real  fituations,  the  moft  congenial  with 
tragic  effect,  are  often  capable  of  being  heightened  by  additional  touches  of 
art  J  and  the  difFei'ent  parts  may  frequently  be  made  more  clofely  and  natu- 
rally dependent  on  each  other  than  they  in  fad:  are.  To  fupply  thefe 
deficiencies,  and  to  arrange  all  the  incidents,  fo  as  to  produce  their  fulleft 
effe<fl,  is  the  office  of  the  poet,  and  which,  if  well  performed,  fully  en- 
titles the  author  to  that  appellation  [f]. 

The  tragedy  of  Oroonoko  is  faid  to  be  formed  on  a  real  fad.  Nevcr- 
thelefs,  as  Southern  has  encreafed  the  interell  fli-ongly,  by  heightening 
the  circumftances,  inventing  pathetic  fituations,  elevating  the  charaders, 
and  making  Imoinda  an  European,  he  certainly  is  juflly  entitled  to  the 
charader  of  poet. 

Many  dramas  are  founded  on  fiditious  narration,  where  one  fliould 
imagine  invention  would  have  flill  lefs  to  add  :  but  who  will  refufe  th« 
name  of  poet  to  the  author  of  King  Lear  .'' 

[f]  '  The  connexion  of  events  often  efcapcs  our  obfervation  in  nature,  for  want  of 
'  knowing  the  whole  combination  of  the  circumftances;  in  real  fadts  we  only  fee  an  acci- 
'  dental  concurrence  of  things ;  but  the  poet  wiflies  to  fhew,  in  the  texture  of  his  work,  an 

*  apparent  and  fenfiblc  connexion ;  fo  that  if  though  he  is  really  lefs  true,  he  has  more  the 

♦  appearance  of  truth  than  the  hiflorian.'     Diderot. 


NOTE 


Note  vi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE, 


19: 


NOTE     VI. 

OF    SIMPLE    FABLES    AND    ACTIONS,    THE    EPISODIC    ARE    THE 

WORST. 

JL  OWN  I  do  not  fee  the  impropriety  of  this  obfervation,  or  of  Dacier's 
explanation  of  it,  in  the  light  Mr.  Twining  does.  It  is  obvious,  that 
the  fault  of  lengthening  the  fable,  or  rather  the  bulk  of  the  piece,  by 
epifodes,  was  much  more  likely  to  be  incident  to  a  fimple  than  a  com- 
plicated adlion,  and  from  the  fimplicity  of  the  acftion,  more  blameable 
as  more  obvious  to  the  obfervation,  and  more  likely  to  throw  the  prin- 
cipal aftion  into  the  fliade.  Every  difficulty  would  be  obviated,  if  this 
paragraph  were  removed  from  the  place  where  it  now  ftands  to  the  end 
of  the  next  chapter.  It  would  naturally  follow  the  definition  of  the 
fimple  adlion,  and  its  fdiftindlion  from  that  which  is  complicated; 
whereas  it  is,  in  this  place,  little  connected  either  with  the  preceding  or 
the  following  paragraph :  and  befides,  there  feems  an  impropriety  in 
pointing  out  a  defedt  of  the  fimple  fable,  before  we  are  told  what  a 
fimple  fable  is.  But  with  the  arrangement  of  the  parts  of  this  irregular 
work,  I  profefs  not  to  meddle. 


C  c  NOTE 


194  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  ix. 


NOTE     VII. 

THOSE  OBJECTS  WILL  BE  PRINCIPALLY  ATTAINED,  IF  THE 
EVENTS  HAPPEN  CONTRARY  TO  EXPECTATION,  AND  YET  ARE 
CONSEQUENCES    OF    EACH    OTHER. 

WERE  tranfpofition  my  objedl,  I  fliould  certainly  detach  alfo  the 
paragraph,  of  which  this  is  a  part,  to  the  end  of  the  next  chapter,  of  the 
concluding  fentence  of  which  it  is  a  compleat  illuftration ;  fliewing  what 
ought  to  be  attempted  in  the  complicated  adtion,  as  the  fentence,  noticed 
in  the  laft  obfervation,  fliews  what  ought  to  be  avoided  in  the  limple 
adlion. 

But  wherever  it  fhould  be  placed,  the  rule  itfelf  is  ftridlly 
founded  on  truth  and  nature ;  and  of  which,  more  will  be  faid  when 
we  come  to  analyze  the  cataftrophe  of  tragedy  [g]. 

[c]  See  Note  vii.  Chap.  xiii. 


CHAP. 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  195 


CHAP.      X. 

NOTE     I. 

I    CALL    THAT    A    SIMPLE    ACTION    WHICH    HAS  THE  TRANSITION 
OF    FORTUNE,    WITHOUT     PERIPETi'a    OR    DISCOVERY. 

Aristotle  here  plainly  diftinguifhes  between  the  peripetia, 
(•zjr£o<7reT£<a),  the  fudden  and  unexped:ed  revolution  of  fortune,  which  is 
peculiar  to  the  complicated  adlion,  and  the  [/^erdQcta-ig,  or  change  from 
mifery  to  happinefs,  or  vice -versa,  which  is  not  only  common  to  every 
fpecies  of  tragedy,  but  to  every  affeding  tale,  whether  dramatic  or  nar- 
rative, ferious  or  comic.  The  firft  of  thefe,  the  peripetia,  as  Mr.  Twining 
juftly  obferves,  is  not  to  be  found  in  Othello;  nor,  I  think,  in  Lear, 
as  written  by  Shakefpear,  whofe  misfortunes  go  on  in  regular  fucceffion 
from  their  firft  caufe,  his  obftinacy  and  felf-opinion.  The  change  of 
fortune  arifes  from  the  alteration  of  the  conduft  of  his  daughters ;  but 
this  cannot  be  called  fudden  or  unexpected,  fince  it  is  forefeen  by  all 
the  perfons  of  the  drama,  except  the  old  king.  I  believe  modern  dramas 
have  oftener  the  fimple  than  the  complicated  action,  as  our  tragic  diftreffes 
arife  more  from  manners  and  paffion,  than  incident.  See  Note  iii. 
Chap,  xviii. 


C  c  2  CHAP. 


196  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xi. 


CHAP.      XI. 

N  O  T  E     I. 
peripeti'a. 

X  HE  peripetia,  according  to  the  definition  of  Ariftotle,  does  not  only 
mean  a  fudden  and  violent  revolution  of  fortune,  but  a  revolution  brought 
about  by  means,  apparently  likely  to  produce  a  contrary  effedl.  Of  this 
revolution,  from  happinefs  to  mifery,  the  CEdipus,  produced  here  as 
an  example  by  Ariftotle,  is  the  moft  perfecft  inflance  of  any  I  know,  an- 
cient or  modern ;  the  expedled  means  of  his  vindication  affording  the 
cleareft  proof  of  his  guilt.  As  for  the  contrary  example,  though  we 
have  the  out-line  of  the  ftory,  the  tragedy  being  loft,  we  are  ignorant 
with  what  art  the  incidents  were  arranged,  to  produce  the  peripetia  as 
defcribed  by  the  critic. 

On  the  modern  theatre,  the  tragedy  which  ends  unhappily,  has 
feldom,  if  ever,  a  peripetia ;  for  the  tragedies  of  the  prefent  day 
"begin  with  tears  :  the  change  of  fortune  which  interefts  us  in  the 
courfe  of  the  adion,  arifes  from  tranfient  gleams  of  hope  fcattered 
through  the  piece,  which  deepen  the  fucceeding  diftrefs  that 
attends  their  difappointment,  as  in  Venice  Preferved,  Douglas,  and 
Tancred  and  Sigifmunda.  In  this  laft  tragedy,  Thomfon,  in  com- 
pliance with  cuftom  introduces  Sigifmunda  deeply  afflidled  with 
prophetic,  or  if  you  will,  imaginary  horror,  though  fhe  has  the  certain 
profped  of  the  poffelTion  of  a  throne  with  the  man  flic  loves,  at  the 

conclufion 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE. 


197 


conclufion  of  the  firft  ad.  Indeed,  if  inflead  of  deriving  the  cataftrophe 
from  manners  and  paflion,  and  cutting  the  gordian  knot  at  laft  by  the 
fword  of  the  dying  Ofmond ;  the  diftrefs  had  turned  entirely  on  the 
forgery  of  Tancred's  confent  to  fulfil  the  king's  will,  and  that  circum- 
ftance  had  been  the  hinge  on  which  the  cataftrophe  had  turned,  inflead  of 
a  fubordinate  circumftance  in  the  fecond  adl :  the  tragedy  of  Tancred  and 
Sigifmunda  would  have  furnifhed  a  complete  inflance  of  this  fpecies  of 
peripetia. 

Another  reafon  for  the  want  of  peripetia  in  our  tragedies  that  end 
with  diftrefs,  is  afligned  in  the  laft  note.  Probability  is  not  violated  by 
the  moft  extraordinary  revolution  of  events,  but  a  fudden  change  of 
paflions  and  manners  is  utterly  improbable. 

Of  the  unexpedled  reverfe  of  fortune,  from  evil  to  good,  we  have  in- 
numerable inftances  :  the  moft  ftriking  I  recolledl,  is  in  the  fourth 
Z&.  of  the  Merchant  of  Venice.  The  deliverance  of  x'^ntonio  arifes 
from  Portia,  juft  in  the  moment  he  is  expedled  to  fufter  from  her  con- 
firmation of  the  claim  of  Shylock. 

NOTE     II. 

THE    DISCOVERY,    AS    THE    NAME     IMPLIES,    IS    A    TRANSITIOiN 
FROM    IGNORANCE    TO    KNOWLEDGE. 

THIS  fpecies  of  dramatic  incident,  [a]  which,  like  the  foregoing,  and 
for  the  fame  reafon,  is,  among  us,  confined  to  tragedy  with  a  happy 

[a]  For  further  obfervations  on  the  difcovery,  fee  note  iv,  chap.  xiv.  and  notes  on  chap. 
XVI.  paflim. 

cataftrophe 


198  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xi. 

cataftrophe  and  comedy,  was  a  great  favorite  with  our  earlier  writers, 
but  is  feldom  ufed  by  modern  poets ;  probably  from  the  difficulty  of 
continuing  the  difguife  with  probability  as  to  the  other  perfons  of  the 
drama ;  or  in  regard  to  the  audience,  without  keeping  a  principal  cha- 
radler,  (for  of  fuch  only  can  an  interefting  difcovery  confift,)  too  long 
in  obfcurity,  and  facrificing  too  much  to  a  fingle  furprifmg  fituation, 
which  will  lofe  much  of  its  efFedt  after  the  firfl  reprefentation. 

Can  any  thing  be  more  abfolutely  improbable  than  that  a  daughter 
fhould  be  difguifed  from  her  father,  and  a  woman  from  her  lover,  by 
being  in  men's  cloaths  ?  [b]  and  yet  this  is  the  cafe  of  Rofalind  in  As 
You  Like  It,  where,  from  Orlando's  iiditious  courtfhip  of  Rofalind, 
though  in  difguife,  and  from  the  likenefs  being  obferved,  both  by  him 
[c]  and  the  duke,  the  improbability  is  ftUl  rendered  more  flriking. 

As  to  the  difguifing  the  principal  charadler  from  the  audience,  it 
appears  a  ufelefs  refinement,  and  was  feldom  pradlifed  by  the  ancients. 
In   Shakefpear  alfo,    Rofalind,    Imogen,    Viola,   Julia,    the    Duke   in 

[b]  There  muft  have  been  a  peculiar  improbability  attending  this  Icind  of  difguife,  on  which 
fo  many  of  the  plays  of  Shakefpear,  and  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  turn,  from  all  the  female 
chara6ters  being  performed  by  men,  an  offence  againft  probability  when  in  a  female  habit ; 
but  for  a  man,  in  his  own  cloaths,  to  aft  a  beautiful  princefs  (Imogen,  for  inftance)  isperfeftly 
inconfiftent  with  the  leaft  fhadow  of  it.     See  note  iv.  chap.  xiii. 

[c]  Duke  Sen.     '  I  do  remember  in  this  fhcpherd  boy 

'  Some  lively  touches  of  my  daughter's  favour. 

Orla.     '  My  lord,  the  firfl:  time  that  I  ever  faw  him, 

'  Mcthought  he  was  a  brother  to  your  daughter. 
'  But,  my  good  lord,  this  boy  is  foreft  born,' 

Meafure 


NoTEiii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  199 

Meafure  for  Meafure,  are  all  known  to  the  fpedators.  Maffei  and 
Voltaire  have  chofen  to  conceal  Eghiftus  from  the  theatre,  as  well  as 
from  his  mother,  in  Merope ;  but  in  this  they  have  not  only  deviated 
from  the  tragedy  of  Euripides  [d]  but  deftroyed  the  ftriking  effed:  de- 
fcribed  by  Plutarch,  which  was  plainly  derived  from  their  relation  to 
each  other  being  known  to  the  fpedlators. 

One  of  the  beft  inftances  I  know,  of  a  principal  charader  being  con- 
cealed to  the  audience  through  the  whole  of  the  adlion,  and  yet  taking 
his  proper  fhare  in  it,  is  in  the  Bondman  of  Mallinger.  There  is  a 
very  good  inftance  of  it  alfo  in  the  comedy  of  Sedudion,  by  Mr.  Holcroft. 


NOTE     III. 

THE    DISCOVERY    IS    MOST     BEAUTIFUL    WHEN    ACCOMPANIED    BY 

THE    PERIPETIA, 

DACIER  has  laid  it  down  as  a  rule,  that  a  difcovery  cannot  be  made 
the  principal  fubjeft  of  a  drama;  which  is  ftrongly  combated  by  Metaf- 
talio.  Of  this  fanciful  opinion  of  Dacier,  which  he  derives  from  a 
paflage  in  the  preceding  chapter,  that  very  paffage  compared  v/ith  this, 
is,  in  my  idea,  the  cleareft  confutation  ;  at  leaft,  as  far  as  the  fentence  of 
Arifcotle  is  decifive.  He  there  fays,  '  the  tranfition  of  fortune ;' 
(^  {^sjuCxa-ig)  that  is,  the  change  from  happinefs  to  mifery,  or  the  con- 
trary, which  mufl  be  the  principal  objed,  or  the  cataftrophe  of  the  fable, 
'  in  complicated  adions,  is  effeded  by  the  means  of  peripetia,  or  difcg- 

[d]  See  note  iv.  chap.  xiv. 

*  verv. 


200  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xi. 

•  very,  or  both  \  and  he  here  fays,  that  Is  preferable  which  is  effeded  by 
the  union  of  both;  where  the  cataflrophe  arifes  from  the  peripetia,, 
caufed  by  a  difcovery. 

In  the  Merope  of  MafTei  and  Voltaire,  the  difcovery  is  not  accompa- 
nied by  the  peripetia.  On  the  contrary,  the  diftrefs  is  confiderably  en- 
creafed  by  it :  I  doubt  much  if  fuch  was  the  arrangement  of  the  Cref- 
phontes  of  Euripides. 

NOTE     IV. 

THE  PATHOS,  IS  THAT  PART  OF  THE  ACTION  WHICH  IS  EITHER. 
FATAL  OR  PAINFUL  ;  SUCH  AS  DEATHS  EXHIBITED  ON  THE 
STAGE,  OR  TORTURES,  OR  WOUNDS,  OR  OTHER  THINGS  OF 
THAT    NATURE. 

FROM  this  definition  of  the  pathos,  it  is  manifeft  that  the  rule,  Co 
much  infifted  on  by  the  French  critics,  never  to  ftain  the  theatre  with 
blood,  (de  ne  pas  enfanglanter  le  theatre,)  is  neither  derived  from  the 
fchool  of  Ariflotle,  nor  the  pradlice  of  the  Greek  tragedians.  It  feems 
to  have  arifen  from  a  precept  of  Horace,  as  I  think,  ill  und£rflood, 

[e]  '  Nee  pueros  coram  populo  Medea  trucidet.' 

It  is  to  the  improbability,  not  the  cruelty,  that  Horace  objects^ 
[f]  *  Incredulus  odi.' 

[e]  '  Nor  let  Medea,  in  the  people's  fight, 
'  Her  infants  murder.' 

[f]  Almoft  every  tranflator  gives  this  as  the  fcnfe,  '  It  is  both  incredible  and  difguftihg,* 
but  the  literal  meaning  is,  '  It  difgufts  becaufq  it  is  incredible.'     Not, 

*  I  hate  to  fee,  and  never  can  believe.'  RoscoM. 

But, 

'  Not  believing,  I  deleft  to  fee.' 

I  do 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  201 

I  do  not  conceive  •  coram  populo'  to  allude  to  the  fpedtators,  but  the 
chorus.  This  will  be  illuftrated  by  comparing  the  management  of  Eu- 
ripides with  that  of  Seneca  in  this  identical  inftance.  In  Euripides, 
Medea  kills  her  children  behind  the  fcenes,  and  the  chief  perfon  of  the 
chorus  naturally  exclaims, 

[g]  *  The  houfe  I'll  enter,  and  attempt  to  fave 
*  The  children  from  deftrudlion.' — 

In  [h]  Seneca,  Medea  kills  one  of  her  children  in  the  prefence  of  the 
chorus,  without  their  making  any  obfervations  on  it ;  and  on  the  entry 
of  Jafon  fhe  fnatches  the  other  up  into  her  chariot,  and  deliberately  [i] 

murders 

AoxTi  jjioi  ri^i/oii;. 

[h]  As  Seneca  was  fubfequent  to  Horace,  it  could  not  be  his  play  that  Horace  means  to 
cenfure  :  but,  probably,  Seneca  borrowed  his  arrangement  of  the  cataftrophe  from  fome  other 
Greek  tragedy,  or  from  the  Medea  of  Ennlus. 

[i]  Perhaps  from  the  perpetration  of  this  fhocklng  crime,  the  flrongeft  poflible  proof  may 
be  drawn  of  the  force  of  cuftom  over  the  moft  powerful  feelings  of  nature.  The  deftruftion  of 
children,  by  their  parents  was  fo  common  at  Athens,  that,  if  we  may  judge  of  Menander, 
by  Terence,  even  on  the  comic  ftage,  the  queftion,  whether  a  child  fliall  be  reared  or  expofed, 
was  treated  as  a  common  domeflic  confideratioru 

An  author,  well  acquainted  with  human  life,  though  not  inclinable  to  fee  it  on  the  faireft 
fide,  has  fome  juft  obfervations  on  the  commiffion  of  this  crime  in  modern  times,  which  he 
imputes  to  the  fear  of  fhame  and  difgrace,  and  their  inevitable  attendant,  ruin  and  want,  over- 
coming natural  afFeftion.  (Fable  of  the  Bees,  Remark  C.)  How  far,  in  a  ftate  of  civil  fo- 
ciety,  it  is  juftifiable  to  place  a  perfon  in  the  cruel  alternative,  of  cliufmg  either  a  Ihameful  death 
or  a  life  of  infamy,  I  fhall  not  attempt  to  determine.  But  of  this  cruel  alternative,  the  makers 
of  law  can  have  no  idea.  The  father  and  mother,  whofe  happinefs  depends  on  a  favourite 
child,  and  who  watch  over  its  fafety  with  an  anxiety  hardly  to  be  conceived,  cannot  enter  into 
the  fenfations  of  a  wretch,  who  knows  her  new-born  infant  is  her  greateft  enemv,  thedeftroyer 

Dd  of 


202  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xr. 

murders  it  in  the  face  of  the  chorus  and  all  the  furviving  perfons  of  the 
drama.     Of  fuch  an  arrangement,  the  critic  may  well  fay, 

*  Quodcunque  oftendis  mihi  sic  incredulus  odi.' 


The  Bifhop  of  Worcefter,  in  his  note  on  this  verfe,  is  of  the  fame 
opinion  as  to  the  impropriety  with  which  Seneca  has  condufted  his  play, 
and  quotes  a  paflage  from  Quintilian,  to  fliew  that  the  Medea  of  Ovid 

*  had  fome  of  the  vices  here  charged  on  Seneca.'  *  The  Medea  of  Ovid,' 
he  fays,  *  feems  to  me,  to  fhew  how  much  that  writer  could  have  excel- 

*  led,  if  he  had  chofen  rather  to  moderate  his  genius  than  indulge  it  [k].* 
It  muft  be  obferved,  that  though  Quintilian  may  mean  to  fpeak.  of  the 
inequality  of  this  tragedy,  it  appears  more  likely,  that  he  compares  this 
tragedy  with  his  other  works.  For  if  he  only  fpeaks  of  the  fertility  of 
his  genius,  and  his  intemperance  in  the  general  indulgence  of  it,  while 
particular  parts  iTiew  his  power  of  regulating  it,  it  is  equally  applicable 
to  all  his  works.  Apply  the  paflage  to  Dryden,  and  let  the  exception  be 
his  ode  on  Cecilia's  day,  and  obferve  if  there  would  be  any  impropriety 
in  ufing  the  exadl  words  of  Quintilian. 


of  all  her  hopes,  the  author  of  her  utter  ruin.  The  fame  woman  who,  in  this  fituation,  may  have- 
afted  the  part  of  Medea,  might  be  capable,  in  a  happier  fituation,  to  have  facrificed  her  life 
to  fave  her  infant.  Juftice,  perhaps,  however,  muft  punifh  deliberate  afts  of  this  kind  when, 
like  other  crimes,  clearly  proved ;  but  to  make  a  defire  to  efcape  (hame,  a  proof  of  murder, 
is  a  law  that  would  have  difgraced  the  code  of  Draco.  See  21  Jac.  I.  ch.  27.  which  makes 
the  concealment  of  the  child's  death  almoft  conclufive  evidence  of  its  being  murdered  by  the 
mother. 

[k]  '  Ovidii  Medea,  videtur  mihi  oftendere,  quantum  vir  ille  praeftarc  potuit,  fi  ingenio 
*  fuo  temperate  quani  indulgcre,  maluiflet.' 

It 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  203 

It  is  curious  to  obferve,  as  a  proof  of  candid  criticifm,  how  an  inge- 
nious man  will  contrive  to  bend  an  gncient  writer  to  fupport  his-own  hy- 
pothefis.     BoiTu,  in  his  Eflayon  the  Epopee,  L.  in.  page  258.  fays, 

*  Horace  orders,  even  in  tragedy,  that  incidents,   too  mai-vellous,  fuch 

*  as  the  change  of  Progne  into  a  bird,  or  Cadmus  into  a  ferpent,  fliould 

*  be  kept  from  the  view  of  the  fpedlators.'  Not  mentioning  a  word  of 
Medea,  and  even  omitting  the  line  in  queftion,  in  a  quotation  of  the 
paffage  at  the  bottom  of  the  page.  But  in  the  fame  book  of  his  work, 
page  282,  he  fays,  '  certain  adions  are  unfit  for  reprefentation,  either 

*  from  being  too  horrible,  as  a  mother  who  kills  her  own  children,  or 

*  the  change  of  a  human  creature  into  a  bird  or  a  ferpent.'  And  here  he 
quotes  the  paflage  of  Horace  entire. 

How  little  the  Grecian  ftage  was  accuftomed  to  this  delicacy  of  the 
French,  a  perufal  of  its  tragedies  will  fufficiently  fhew  [l].  The  exhi- 
bition of  a  dead  body  appears  to  have  been  a  favorite  fpeftacle  with  the 
Athenians- 

The  death  of  Ajax  has  always  been  confidered  as  an  inftance  of  a 
charadter  killing  himfelf  on  the  ftage.  But  this  has  been  lately  combated 
by  the  Abbe  Barthelemi  in  his  Travels  of  the  younger  Anacharfis  [m]. 

*  Several  modern  critics,'  he  fays,  '  have  imagined,  that  in  the  tragedy 

*  of  Sophocles,  Ajax  kills  himfelf  with  his  fword,  in  the  prefence  of  the 

*  fpedtators.     They  bring  the  authority  of  the  fcholiaft',  who  obferves, 

[l]  And  thefe  are  now  open  to  the  Englifli  reader,  through  the  elegant  and  liberal,  yet  ac- 
curate tranflations,  of  Mr.  Potter  and  Mr.  Francklin. 

[m]  See  his  note,  chap,  lxxi,  '  fur  le  lieu  de  la  fcene  ou  Ajax  fe  tuoit.'' 

D  d  a  *  that 


204  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xi. 

*  that  the  charadlers  feldom  kill  themfelves  on  the  ftage[N].     I  think 

*  that  the  rule  has  not  been  violated  in  the  prefent  inftance.     To  fatisfy 

*  us  of  this,  it  is  only  neceflary  to  follow  the  thread  of  the  adtion. 

*  The  chorus  being  informed  that  Ajax  was  not  in  his  tent  [o]  go  out 

*  on  both  fides  of  the  theatre  to  feek  him,  and  bring  him  back  [p].     The 

*  hero  appears  again  on  the  ftage,  and,  after  an  affedling  foliloquy,  he 

*  throws  himfelf  on  the  point  of  a  fword,  whofe  hilt  he  had  previoufly 

*  fixed  in  the  ground  [o^].     The  chorus  return  [r],  and  while  they  are 

*  complaining  of  the  ill  fuccefs  of  their  fearch,  they  hear  the  cries  of 

*  Tecmefla,  who  had  found  the  body  of  her  hufband  [s],  and  they  ad- 

*  vance  to  fee  the  dreadful  fpedlacle  [t].     It  is  not  therefore  on  the 

*  ftage  that  Ajax  kills  himfelf.' 

I  do  not  know  if  I  am  influenced  by  a  partiality  to  my  own  opinion, 
but  I  think  the  circumftances  mentioned  by  M.  Barthelemi,  as  the  fup- 
port  of  his  hypothefis,  are  a  confirmation  of  mine.  And  that  Sophocles, 
meaning  to  exhibit  the  death  of  Ajax  on  the  ftage,  was  obliged  to  violate 
a  fundamental  rule  of  the  Grecian  drama,  and  fend  off  the  chorus  merely 
to  avoid  the  improbability  of  fuch  an  adl  being  performed,  *  coram  po- 

*  puloj'   before  the  people  of  Salamis,  who  formed  the  chorus. 

To  obviate,  however,  the  charge  of  prejudice,  either  in  favor  of  my 
own  opinion  or  the  cuftom  of  the  Britilli  theatre,  whofe  blood  and  blank. 

[n]  '  Schol.  Sophoc.  in  Ajac.  v.  8z6.'  [o]  <  Ajac.  Soph.  v.  805.' 

[p]  '  Ibid.  V.  824.'-  [Q^]  '  Ibid.  V.  826.* 

[r]  '  Ibid.  V.  877.'  [s]  '  Ibid.  V.  900.' 

[t]  '  Ibid.  V.  924,  1022.' 

verfe 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  205 

verfe  has  been  proverbially  cenfured  by  fome  delicate  critics,  I  fliall 
appeal  to  the  judgement  of  a  writer  who  muft  be  impartial,  Metaftafio; 
a  poet  in  a  fpecies  of  the  drama,  whofe  delicacy  is  even  more  faftidious 
in  this  than  the  French,  and  which  does  not  allow  the  unhappy  cata- 
ftrophe.  Though  he  does  not  himfelf  approve  the  introdudlion  of  fuch 
fpedlacles,  he  cannot  lliut  his  eyes  to  their  appearance  on  the  Greek 
theatre.  Among  many  other  examples  of  their  not  adhering  to  the 
imaginary  rule,  ♦  di  non  infanguinar  la  fcena,'  he  cites  the  incident  be- 
fore us.     '  Is  not  the  ftage  flained  with  blood,  when  Ajax  throws  him- 

*  felf  on  a  drawn  fword,  with  the  hilt  fixed  in  the  ground  for  that  pur- 

*  pofe  ?     Let  the  critics  torment  themfelves  as  much  as  they  pleafe,  to 

*  prove  that  Ajax  does  not  kill  himfelf  in  the  fight  of  the  audience,  they 

*  can  never  abfolutely  deny  that  long  fcenes  pafs,  after  the  blow,  round 

*  his  body,  transfixed  and  vifible,  fince  his  wife  TecmelTa,  his  brother 

*  Teucer,  and  all  the  chorus,  lament  over  it,  cover  it,  uncover  it,  and 

*  lift  it  from  the  ground,  to  which  it  had,  in  a  manner,  been  nailed,  and 

*  from  which  place  it  could  not  have  before  been  moved,  and  the  vifible 

*  place  of  reprefentation  always  continues  the  fame.' 

If  Ajax  does  not  kill  himfelf  on  the  flage,  he  mufi:  be  fuppofed  to 
fpeak  his  dying  foliloquy  behind  the  fcene.  But  a  confideration  of  the 
form  of  the  ancient  theatre  will,  I  think,  reconcile  every  apparent  con- 
tradidion. 

We  are  told  by  Julius  Pollux,  tliat  the  entrance  of  the  principal 
charadler  was  always  from  the  front  of  the  flage,  which,  in  tragedy,  [u] 
was  the  portico  of  a  palace,  while  the  inferior  charafters  entered  or  went 

[u]  See  note  v,  chap.  vi. 

out 


2o6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xi. 

out  on  the  fides,  not,  I  prefume,  at  right  angles  with  the  front  fcene  as 
on  the  modern  theatre,  but  diagonally.  For  in  comedy,  where  the  fcene 
reprefented  ftreets,  characters  frequently  are  produced  as  feen  by  the 
fpedlators,  though  not  by  each  other  [x].  A  thing  often  attempted  oa 
the  modern  ftage,  but  always,  from  the  fhape  of  our  theatre,  attended 
with  fome  degree  of  improbability. 

Now  Ajax  had  fixed  his  fword,  we  will  fuppofe,  under  the  portico, 
nearly  at  the  bottom  of  the  ftage  j  and,  after  his  laft  fpeech,  threw  him- 
felf  on  it  in  full  view  of  the  audience  j  the  chorus  returning  from  each 
fide  could  not  fee  either  the  body,  or  Tecmeffa,  who,  entering  from  the 
front,  mufl  neceflarily  find  the  body,  round  which,  all  the  circumftances 
mentioned  by  Metaftafio  take  place  in  view  of  the  audience  -,  or,  other- 
wife,  all  mufl;  pafs  behind  the  fcene,  that  is  faid  by  Teucer,  TecmefTa, 
and  the  chorus,  from  the  falling  on  the  fword,  ver.  876,  till  the  entrance 
of  Menelaus,  v.  1066,  who  forbids  their  moving  the  body,  juft,  it  feems, 
as  they  are  going  to  take  it  up ;  and,  particularly,  orders  them  to  let  it 
remain  as  it  is  [y]. 

Whether  this  pradlice  of  killing  on  the  ilage,  which  was  carried  t& 
fuch  excefs  by  our  old  writers,  but  which  is  now  ufed  with  greater 
moderation,. is  really  a  beauty  or  a  fault,  is  another  queftion.     The  fud- 

[x]  Mr.  Saunders,  in  his  Treatife  on  Theatres,  page  70,  fpeaking  of  the  theatre  atlmola, 
propofes  a  plan  for  obviating  this  difadvantage  on  the  modern  ftage.  It  would  be  injuftice  to 
mention  this  work  without  acknowledging  the  information,  as  well  as  amufement,  I  have  received 
/rom  the  perufal  of  it. 

Ty"]   Outo;  crs  tpava  rci/Se  rov  viv.ftiv  yifoiv 

Mij  cviMiJA^i7v,  «Aa'  EAN  onns  EXEI. 

den. 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  207 

den,  and  fometimes,  unexpedled  blow,  as  when  Othello  kills  himfelf,  or 
as  whenEuphrafia  ftabs  Dionyfius  in  the  Grecian  Daughter, has,  certainly, 
a  very  fine  theatrical  cfFedl ;  and  the  dying  agonies  of  a  Siddons,  or  a 
Garrick,  were  truly  affedling.  But  a  ilage,  heaped  with  dead  bodies, 
panting  from  the  exertion  of  the  preceding  fcene,  is  likely  to  excite  other 
emotions  than  thofe  of  pity  and  terror.  I  fhould  imagine  the  general 
ftabbing  fcene,  in  [z]  Titus  Andronicus,  if  reprefented,  would  hardly  bo 
lefs  rifible  than  the  cataftrophe  of  Tom  Thumb. 

[z]  It  has  often  been  a  fubjed  of  wonder,  how  this  monftrous  farce  has  held  its  place  in  all 
the  editions  of  Shakefpear.  I  cannot  think  he  wrote  a  line  in  it,  though  if,  as  Theobald  fuo-- 
geftsj  it  appeared  before  Shakefpear  wrote  for  the  ftage,  two  verfes  in  it  pleafed  him  fo  well, 
that  he  has  twice  clofely  imitated  them. 


'  She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  woo'd ; 
*  She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  won.' 


T.  Andron. 


*  She's  beautiful,  and  therefore  to  be  woo'd  j 

*  She  is  a  woman,  therefore  to  be  won.' 

Ift  Part  Hen.  vi- 

*  Was  ever  woman  in  this  humour  woo'd  ? 

'  Was  ever  woman  in  this  humour  won  ?' 

Richard  hi. 


CHAP. 


2o8  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 


CHAP.      XII. 

NOTE    I. 
THE    PROLOGUE. 

JL  H  E  prologue  of  the  ancient  tragedy  was  a  very  different  thing  from 
that  which  goes  under  its  name  on  the  modern  ftage.  It  was,  in  fadt, 
the  opening  of  the  piece.  We  have  already  mentioned  how  awkwardly 
this  is  often  managed  with  us,  and  how  inartificially  by  the  Greeks  [a]. 
Generally  one  of  the  characters,  fometimes  a  god,  and  fometlmes  a  ghoft, 
as  that  of  Polydore  in  Hecuba  [b]  relates  to  the  audience  (not  to  the 
fictitious  dramatic  audience,  for  the  firft  entry  of  the  chorus  was  ufually 
with  the  parode,  [c]  but  diredtly  to  the  fpedtators)  all  the  preceding  cir- 
cumftances  necelTary  to  let  them  into  the  ftory  of  the  drama. 

[a]  Note  I,  chapter  vii. 

[b]  This  praftice  of  the  Greek  tragedies  is  ridiculed  with  feme  humour,  in  a  parody  by 
Lloyd,  on  the  opening  of  the  Eledlra. 

*  I  a  gentleman  did  wed, 

'  The  lady  I  would  never  bed, 

'  Great  Agamemnon's  royal  daughter, 

*  Who  coming  hither  to  draw  water.' 

[c]  Mr.  Warton  forgot  this  circumflance,  when  he  blamed  Milton  for  opemng  Comus  by 
a  foliloquy  fpoken  in  a  foreft.     See  Mr.  Twining's  note  on  the  word  parode. 

Difficult 


Note  r.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  20(5 

Difficult  as  the  tafk  is  to  open  a  drama  well,  like  other  difficulties  the 
greater  glory  attends  its  being  overcome,  as  it  has  often  been  by  our  good 
dramatic   writers.     Milton  has  opened  both  his  dramatic  poems  in  the 
ancient  manner,  and  among  the  fubjedls  luited  to   the  drama  of  which 
he  has   left  fhort  fketches,   he  propofes  that  the  tragedy  of  Macbeth 
fliould  be  opened  by  Duncan's  ghoil:.     Milton  did  not  prefer  this  mode 
from  any  deficiency,  or,  at  leaft,  any  diftruft  in  his  powers,  but  from  his 
ftrong  partiality  to  the  ancients.     How  he  would  have  fucceeded,  had  he 
chofen  the  more  natural,   though  difficult  mode  of  the    moderns  it  is 
impoffible  to  fay  ;  we  can  only  obferve,  that  the  fame  perfon  has  never 
yet  excelled  in  the  drama  and  the  epopee,   congenial  as  they  appear  to 
be  [d].     It  is  certainly  lucky  for  his  poetical  charadler  that  he  did  not 
enter  the  lifts  with  Shakefpear  in  Macbeth,  according  to  the  method  he 
has  propofed.     That  Milton,  great  as  his  poetical  merit  is,  could  have 
ever  fucceeded  in  competition  with  that  prodigy  of  human  genius  in  any 
thing  except  learning  and  correftnefs  I  can  hardly  believe  ;  but  I  am  fure 
the  claffic  ghoft  of  Duncan  would  have   '  ftarted,   like  a  guilty  thing,' 
amid  the  gothic  machinery  of  Shakefpear. 

It  is  fomething  curious  to  trace  the  progrcffion  of  the  fame  attending 
this  father  of  our  drama.  In  his  own  time  he  appears  to  have  been  a 
univerfal  favorite.  Indeed  he  could  not  have  been  otherwife.  His  faults 
were  all  committed  to  comply  with  the  tafte  of  the  age  when  he  wrote, 
and  his  beauties  are  fuch  as  muft  delight  every  age,  and  every  tafte  for 
whom  the  beauties  of  truth  and  nature,  unadorned  by  meretricious  or- 
nament, have  charms.  Both  his  merits  and  his  defefts  therefore  were 
popular,  though  probably  the  laft  moft.     He  did   not  however  efcape 

[d]  See  the  concluding  note  of  this  work. 

E  e  the 


2IG  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 

the  envy  of  his  rivals.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  whofe  excellencies  are 
fo  far  inferior,  and  vi^hofe  farcical  irregularities  are  fo  much  more  glaring, 
(for  there  is  no  incident  in  Shakefpear  fo  abfurd  as  the  arming  [e]  De- 
metrius Poliorcetes  with  a  piftol,)  and  w^hofe  indecencies  are  fo  difguft- 
ing,  have  more  than  once  levelled  a  fatiric  blow  at  his  fame.  And 
Jonfon,  the  pedantic  Jonfon,  has  fometimes  cenfured  him  obliquely, 
and  fometimes  praifed  him  fupercilioufly,  not  as  a  writer  by  any  means 
equal  to  himfelf,  or  likely  to  become  his  rival  in  dramatic  fame ;  but  in 
the  way  a  Cramer,  or  a  Haydn,  might  be  fuppofed  to  fpeak  of  a  wonderful 
mufical  ruflic,  who,  without  mulical  education,  was  able  to  bring  fome 
wild  founds  out  of  a  violin » 

Something  in  the  fame  manner  he  is  fpoken  of  by  Milton.  But  there 
is  a  heavier  charge  againft  him  in  regard  to  Shakefpear.  In  his  Eicono- 
clailes  there  is  a  pafTage 

*  That  fullies  even  his  brighteft  lays. 


*  And  blafts  the  vernal  bloom  of  half  his  bays.' 

Like  all  other  cenfure  of  the  fame  kind  it  mifles  the  intended  mark,, 
and  recoils  on  the  author ;  and  we  are  not  inclined  to  think  the  worfe  of 
the  unfortunate  and  mifguided  Charles  bccaufe,  we  are  told  that  Mr* 
William  Shakefpear  was  the  clofet  companion  of  his  folitudes. 

As  the  age  improved  in  falfe  refinement,  and  the  opinion  of  the  French 
critics  prevailed,  Shakefpear  became  more  out  of  fafliion  with  thofe  who 
afFeded  polite  literature,  and  to  be  admii-ers  of  the  ancients,  till  Rhymer,, 
and  the  fuperficial  and  pedantic  Shaftfbury,  at  laft  boldly  ftept  forth  and 

[e]  In  the  humourous  Lieutenant.     See  note  i,  chap.  xxiv. 

condemned 


Note  I,  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  211 

condemned  him  and  his  works  to  oblivion.  Still,  however,  this  doc- 
trine was  too  refined  for  the  people,  it  was  caviar  to  the  million,  and 
Shakefpear  was  yet  popular.  The  theatre,  to  pleafe  both  the  learned 
and  the  unlearned,  got  the  plays  of  Shakefpear  cut  down  as  much  as 
poffible  to  the  Grecian,  or  rather  the  modern  fafhion,  and  the  ftage  was 
glutted  with  alterations  of  the  plays  of  Shakefpear.  At  length  Enc^lifh 
criticifm  grew  too  ftrong  for  French  fupport,  and  ventured  to  walk 
alone.  From  that  moment  Shakefpear  has  boafted  an  encreafing  fame ; 
and  at  this  time,  when  the  ckflics  arc  more  univerfally  fludied  and 
really  underllood  here,  than  in  any  other  age  or  nation,  when  they  are 
criticifed  without  prejudice,  and  admired  without  pedantry,  his  works 
are  as  much  idolized  by  his  countrymen,  as  the  poems  of  Homer  were 
in  the  time  of  Ariftotle. 

At  prefent,  however,  the  dramas  of  Shakefpear  are  more  known  in 
the  clofet  than  on  the  theatre,     [f]  Our  dramatic  tafle  feems  to  have 

[f]  Perhaps  this  may  be  accounted  for,  in  great  meafure,  from  our  want  of  capital  a£lors, 
I  mean  in  tragedy ;  we  have  many  excellent  comedians.  The  power  of  reprefenting  the 
charafters  of  Shakefpear  fell  with  Garrick.  From  the  fame  fource  we  may  derive 
the  prevalence  of  the  mufical  drama;  we  have  fingers  though  we  have  not  atSors.  But 
that  we  are  not  infenfible  to  the  excellence  of  ading  when  we  meet  with  it,  is  obvious 
from  the  reception  of  Mrs.  Siddons.  Strong  as  the  tafle  for  the  mufical  drama  is  at 
prefent,  no  linger  that  ever  yet  came  from  Italy  could  fupport  herfelf  on  the  ftage,  through 
fucceflive  feafons,  as  that  unrivalled  tragic  adlrefs  has  done,  even  with  better  affiftance  than 
thofe  who  have  adied  with  her.  She  alone  adled,  for  feveral  winters,  againft  the  opera,  and 
what  is  ftill  more,  againft  the  fafliionable  hours  of  the  metropolis,  and  always  to  crouded 
houfes.  The  degree  in  which  flie  fingly  interefted  the  public  in  the  tragic  fcene,  is  a  circum- 
Itance  creditable  to  the  Englifh  tafte.  But  the  dramas  of  Shakefpear  cannot  be  fupported  by 
an  aiftrefs  however  excellent.  Women's  charaiSrers  written  for  boys  to  adl,  can  never  afford 
liifEcient  exercife  for  the  foul-fubduing  powers  of  Mrs.  Siddons. 

E  e  2  funk 


212  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 

funk  with  Garrick.  The  mufical  drama  has  ufurped  the  province  both 
of  Thalia  and  Melpomene;  and  we  have  lately  feen  one  of  his  mofl  en- 
tertaining plays  exhibited  on  the  ftage  as  an  opera. 

What  would  the  haughty  Jonfon  have  thought  of  the  prophet  who 
had  told  him  that  in  an  age  of  learning,  the  works  of  Shakefpear  would 
be  in  univerfal  eflimation,  while  his  own  were  hardly  talked  of,  and 
never  read.  I  cannot  think  even  that  Milton  could  eafily  have  imagined 
that  among  a  people  well  verfed  in  polite  and  claflic  literature,  the  [g] 
Ruff  of  Mr.  William  Shakefpear  would  be  preferred  to  Comus  and  the 
Sampfon  Agoniftes. 

The  genius  of  Garrick  feems  to  have  been  particularly  calculated  to 
introduce  Shakefpear  on  the  ftage.  He  knew  how  to  alter  him  fo  as  to 
fit  him  for  the  audience  of  the  prefent  day  without  diverting  him  of 
any  of  his  excellencies,  and  the  few  additions  he  has  ventured  are  in  the 
fpirit  of  the  original.  Thefe  plays  fo  altered  are  likely  to  keep  pofTeffion 
of  the  theatre,  while  every  other  attempt  at  change  and  improvement 
are  forgotten,  except  Gibber's  Richard  III.  and  Tate's  Lear,  which,  with 
fome  correction  of  Mr.  Garrick,  are  ftill  adted,  though  the  alteration  of 
the  laft  is  direcSly  in  oppofition  to  the  precepts  of  the  Stagirite  and  Mr.. 
Addifon[H]. 

Gibber,  though  verfed  in  the  province  of  the  drama,  (which  is,  per- 
haps effential  to  make  a  good  dramatic  writer,  fince  the  knowledge  of 
ftage   effed:   is  of  great   confequence,)    pofTefled  a  genius    not    above 

[c]  '  Other  fluff  of  this  fort  may  be  read  throughout  the  tragedy.'     (Richard  the  Third.) 

ElCONOCLASTES. 

[h]  See  note  vii,  chap.  xni.. 

medi- 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  2J3 

mediocrity ;  and  Tate  was  a  very  indifferent  poet.  Yet  there  is  a  line 
in  Gibber's  Richard,  written  by  himfolf  fo  charadleriftic  of  the  manner 
of  his  archetype  that  I  have  often  heard  it  cited  as  one  of  Shakefpear's 
beauties.  I  mean  the  exclamation  of  Richard  on  Buckingham'  sbeing 
taken, 

*  Off  with  his  head  !  So  much  for  Buckingham.' 

And  1  heard  Lord  Chatham  (then  Mr.  Pitt)  quote  the  following  verfe  of 
Tate  in  the  Houfe  of  Commons ;  undoubtedly  taking  it  for  Shakefpear's, 

*  Where  the  gor'd  battle  bleeds  in  every  vein.' 

To  return  from  this  long  digreffion  to  the  immediate  object  of  the 
note.  The  modern  prologue  feems  to  derive  its  origin  immediately  from 
the  Roman  Comedy.  The  prologues  of  Terence  are  very  much  like 
thofe  of  the  prefent  day,  alluding  to  fuch  temporary  fubjedts  as  relate 
to  the  drama,  and  containing  a  kind  of  apology  for  the  new  piece.  We 
are  not  certain  whether  this  pradlice  of  the  Romans  was  copied  from 
the  comic  theatre  of  Athens,  as  we  have  only  fragments  of  their  middle 
and  new  comedy,  but  from  the  known  refemblance  of  Terence  to  Me^ 
nander  we  have  reafon  to  fuppofe  it  was. 

N  O  T  E     ir. 

THE    EPISODE,    OR    ACT. 

THIS  part  of  the  drama  comprehends  every  thing  contained  between 
the  odes  of  the  chorus.  That  is  in  fad  all  the  piece  except  the  pro- 
logue, which  precedes  the  firft  ode^  and  the  exode,  which  fucceeds 
the  laft.     The  intervals  of  the  reprefentation,  and  confequently  the 

number 


::i4  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 

number  of  aifls,  depend  on  the  number  of  thcfc  odes,  which  is  different 
in  different  tragedies,  and  varies  from  three  to  fcven.  It  is  impoffible 
to  read  a  Greek,  tragedy,  without  feeing  the  abfiirdity  of  thofe  critics 
who  have  tried  to  reduce  all  thofe  dramas  to  five  adts  in  obedience  to 
the  EX  POST  FACTO  law  of  Horace. 

*  Neve  minor,  neu  fit  quinto  produdlior  a<n:u 

*  Fabula.' 

'  Let  not  your  play  have  fewer  adts  than  five, 

*  Nor  more.' Col  man. 

Mctaftafio    obferves    on    this    fuhjetft  that    *  in   Horace's  time  the 

*  Romans  were  accuftomed  to  five  adls,  and  to  four  refts  or  intervals. 

*  And  Horace  very  reafonably   fuppofed  that  a  poet  would  hazard  the 

*  fuccefs  of  his  drama,  however  perfed,  if  he  tried  to  bring  the  audience 
'  to  a  cuftom  different  from  that  which  prevailed  in  the  public  theatres 

*  at  the  time  when  he  wrote.     If  Horace  had  written  his  Art  of  Poetry 

*  forty  years   before,  he  would  probably  have  recommended  the  divi- 

*  fion  of  the  drama  into  three  adts,  for  the  fame  reafon  that  forty  years 

*  after  he  advifed  it  to  be  made  in  five.     For  iu  an  cpiffle  of  Cicero 

*  to  his  brother  Quintus  it  appears  evident  that  the  public  dramas  were 

*  then  commonly  divided  into  three,  and  not  five  adts.      [i]   "  Before 

"  I  con- 

[i]  '  lUud  tc  ad  cxtrcmum  ct  oro  et  hortor  ut  tanquam  poctas  boni  ct  atSores  iiiduflrli 

*  folent,  fic  tu  in  extrema  parte  et  conclufione  muneris  ac  negotii  tui,  diligentifllmus  fis ;  ut 

*  hie  tertius  annus  imperii  tui,  t.-uiquam  tertius  aitus,  perfediffimus  &  ornatiltnius  vidcatur.' 
Cic.  Ep.  ad  Quint.  Frut.  L.  i.  Ep.  i.  in  fine. 

Perhaps,  however  it  may  not  be  difficult  to  reconcile  this  paflage  of  TuUy  with  the  rule  of 
Horace  if  we  look  to  the  Latin  tragedies.  Thofe  of  Seneca  have  each  four  choral  odes, 
dividing  the  piece  into  five  aifls.     And  yet,  according  to  the  pofition  of  Ariftotle,  as  thofe 

only 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  215 

"  I  conclude,  I  beg  and  exhort  you,  that  after  the  example  of  good 
*'  poets,  and  induflrious  a(ftors,  you  would  be  particularly  diligent  in  the 
*'  latter  part  and  conclufion  of  your  office  and  employment,  that  this 
*'  third  year  of  your  command,  like  the  third  aft  of  a  drama,  may  ap- 
*'  pear  moil  perfect  and  fplendid."  Estratto  della  Poetica, 
page  245. 

The  fame  would  be  the  reafon  why  an  Englifh,  and  an  Italian  critic 
would  give  different  advice  on  this  head.  And  the  propriety  of  fuch  a 
diftinftion  has  been  juftiiied  by  experience  in  both  inftances.  Metaftafio 
tells  us,  an  attempt  was  made  to  introduce  the  five  adt  drama  on  the 
Italian  ftage,  which  was  obliged  to  be  dropped  from  the  cold  reception 
it  met  with  on  account  of  its  novelty ;  and  fome  years  ago  a  trial  was 
made  of  the  drama  of  three  adls  on  our  ftage  with  no  better  fuccefs. 
Hecuba  and  the  Defart  Ifland  barely  flood  their  nine  nights.  The 
Way  to  Keep  Him  flill  remains,  (and  very  defervedly,)  a  popular 
comedy,  but  with  the  addition  of  two  adis. 

That  this  proceeds  from  a  diflike  to  innovation,  and  not  from  any  in- 
trinfic  merit  in  the  rule  of  Horace,  appears  from  our  having  no  objec- 
tion to  it  in  the  comic  opera,  where  it  is  authorifed  by  cuflom. 

I  mufl  confefs  the  fpace  of  three  acts  feems  quite  fufficient  for  the 
fingle  circumflance  of  an  adtion  which  is  the  proper  objedl  of  dramatic 

only  are  efteemed  ads,  or  epifodes,  that  are  included  between  the  fbngs  of  the  chorus,  the 
fecond,  third,  and  fourth,  could  only  have  properly  that  appellation,  the  firft  being  the  pro- 
logue, and  the  laft  the  exode.  Horace,  therefore,  fpeaks  according  to  the  mode  of  the  Roman 
theatre,  while  Tally  adopts  the  divifion  of  the  Greeks. 

imitation. 


2i6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 

imitation.  The  obligation  laid  on  the  poet  to  protradt  his  piece  to  five 
a6ls  occafioned  our  eailier  poets  to  have  recourfe  to  the  double  plot ; 
and  the  modern  tragedy  which  confines  itfelf  to  one  aftion,  from  its 
length  partakes  fomething  of  the  [k]  watery  quality  which  Ariftotle 
tells  us  would  attend  a  fimple  dramatic  fable,  if  drawn  to  the  length  of 
the  epopee. 

Befides,  the  divifion  of  the  fable  into  three  parts,  a  middle,  a  be- 
ginning, and  an  end,  which  Ariftotle  [l]  has  defined  to  be  neceflary  to 
conftitute  an  entire  adlion,  naturally  fuggefi:s  fuch  a  divifion  of  the 
drama  which  is  to  imitate  an  entire  aftion.  To  ufe  the  words  of  an 
ingenious  writer,  '  The  firfl  adl,  or  beginning  will  fix  the  fpecflator's 
'  attention  by  opening  the  plot,  and  raifing  his  attention.      The  fecond, 

*  or    middle  will  further  continue  his  perplexity  till  he  is  utterly  at  a 

*  lofs  to  conceive  how  the  piece  will  terminate.     And  the  third,   or  end 

*  will  relieve  him  from  his  embarraffment  and  agreeable  anxiety  after 
'  it  is  carried  to  the  utmoil,  by  an  unexpected,  yet  natural  cataf- 
^  trophe  [m].' 

We  are  not  only  indebted  to  the  Latin  critics  for  the  divifion  of  the 
drama  into  a<fts,  but  for  the  fubdivifion  of  thofe  aOiS  into  fcenes.  As 
the  adt  was  determined  by  the  ode  of  the  chorus  in  tragedy,  and  the 
vacancy  of  the  flage  in  comedy  [n],  fo  the  end  of  the  fcene  was  marked 

by 

[k]  i^jcpr,.    Poetic,  Chap.  xxvi. 

[l]  Poetic,  Chap.  vii. 

[m]  Lettejrs  of  Literature,  Letter  xxi. 

[n]  The  divifion  of  fcenes  in  Shakefpear  is  mariced  by  their  aiSual  change.  Wiicn  the 
pedantry  of  the  felf-namcd  fcholars  of  Ariftotle  firft  took  poffcflion  of  our  ftagc,  one  of  the 

rules 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  x^RISTOTLE.  217 

by  the  entrance,  or  exit  of  a  charafter;  and  this  they  exprefled  by 
naming  all  the  charadters  at  the  beginning  of  the  firft  fcene  of  the  firft 
aft  who  were  then  on  the  ftage ;  and  when  a  perfon  either  entered  or 
went  out  repeating  the  names  with  the  addition  or  omiffion  of  that 
perfon  [o]. 

All  this  the  modern  theatre  obviates,  by  fimply  marking  the  entrance 
and  departure  of  the  characters.  Till  very  lately,  new  plays  were 
always  on  their  firft  publication  printed  in  the  Latin  mode.  At  length 
however  good  fenfe  prevailed  over  pedantry,  and  we  have  reftored  that 
form  of  ftage  diredtion  which  is  moft  convenient,  reviving  the  cuftom 
of  our  older  writers,  except  as  to  the  language,  moft  of  their  diredions 
being  in  Latin,  as  Exit  cum  fuis.  Exeunt  omnes,  Manet.  We  only 
retain  Exit,  and  Exeunt. 

rules  was,  never  to  change  the  fcene,  or  leave  the  ftage  vacant,  in  the  middle  of  an  adt. 
This  Metaftafio  breaks  through,  (fee  his  Operas  paffim.)  It  never  prevailed  on  our  theatre. 
I  own  I  am  utterly  unable  to  fee  what  poflible  advantage  can  be  derived  from  the  obfervance, 
or  difadvantage  from  the  breach  of  it. 

[o]  For  inftance:  they  would  have  written  the  firft  fcene  of  the  fifth  a£l  of  Henry  iv. 

Part  I.  thus  : 

AcTv.     Scene  I. 
King  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  Lord  John  of  Lancafter,  Earl  of  Weftmorland,  Sir 'Walter 
Blunt,  Sir  John  Falftaff. 

Scene  ii. 
King  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  Lord  John  of  Lancafter,  Earl  of  Weftmorland,  Sir  Walter 
Blunt,  Sir  John  Falftaff",  Worcefter,  Vernon. 

Scene  hi. 
King  Henry,  &c.  reciting  all  the  names  again,  except  Worcefter  and  Vernon. 

F  f  The 


2i8-  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 

The  Abbe  D'Aubignac  was  for  following  the  example  of  the  ancients,, 
and  laying  afide  all  ftage  diredlions  whatever,  merely  becaufe  they  never 
ufed  them.  From  the  fame  principle,  why  not  propofe  the  difufe  of 
capital  letters,  flops,  and  divifton  of  words,  in  writing  and  printing  ? 

It  is  not  veiy  foreign  to  this  fubjedl  to  remark  what  was  called  *  the 
•  dumb  fhow,'  in  our  old  plays.  This  appears  to  have  been  a  kind  of  pan- 
tomimical  exhibition  of  the  principal  circumftances  of  the  piece  previous 
to  its  commencement.  There  is  a  remarkable  one  in  Hamlet.  Before 
the  opening  of  the  fuppofed  play  to  be  exhibited  to  the  king  and  queen, 
the  following  ftage  diredlion  appears.  *  Trumpets  found,  dumb  fliew 
'  follows,'  which  is  accurately  defcribed,  and  appears  to  contain  every 
circumftance  of  the  murder  of  Hamlet's  father.  Now  there  is  no 
apparent  reafon  why  the  ufurper  fliould  not  be  as  much  affedled  by  this 
mute  reprefentation  of  his  crime,  as  he  is  afterwards  when  the  fame 
adion  is  accompanied  by  words.. 

I  once  conceived  this  might  have  been  a  kind  of  diredion  to  the 
players  which  was  from  miflake  inferted  in  the  editions;  but  the  fub- 
fequent  converfation  between  Hamlet  and  Ophelia,  entirely  deftroys 
fuch  a  notion. 

This  obfervation  leads  me  to  another.  The  ufe  of  foUloquies ;  either 
when  the  charadter  is  quite  alone,  or  when  he  fpeaks  to  himfelf  in 
company,  which  laft  is  generally  diftinguifhed  by  the  word  '  afide,'  in 
the  margin.  Though  in  real  life  this  cuftom  of  thinking  aloud  hardly 
ever  happens,  yet  we  are  fo  accuflomed  to  it  on  the  ftage,  and  it  is 
often  fo  ufeful  in  developing  a  charadler  that  I  think  it  may  fairly  be 
permitted.     But  no  incident,  even  the  moft  trifling,  fliould  ever  arife 

from 


Note  n.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  219 

from  overhearing  a  foliloquy.  The  converfation  of  Mungo  to  his 
hamper  in  the  Padlock,  which  is  o\'erheard  by  Don  Diego,  does  not 
foil  under  this  fault,  as  fuch  a  real  converfation  is  peifedtly  confiftent 
with  the  charader  of  the  grumbling  negro. 

To  return  to  the  word  epifode.  It  feems  inconfiftent,  to  a  reader 
unacquainted  with  the  origin  of  the  Greek  tragedy,  that  the  principal 
part  of  it  comprehending  the  body  of  the  fable  fhould  be  diflinguifhed 
by  a  name  which  ufually  implies  a  digreflion,  or  fome  tale  that  is  not 
immediately  connected  with  the  leading  epic,  or  dramatic  acflion,  and  in 
which  fenfe  it  is  frequently  employed  in  the  treatifc  before  us.  To 
explain  this,  it  will  be  neceflary  to  take  a  fhort  view  of  the  rife  and 
progrefs  of  the  ancient  drama. 

Tragedy  owed  its  birth  to  a  kind  of  ode  in  honor  of  Bacchus  which 
was  performed  at  the  feflival  of  that  deity  by  rival  poets,  and  the  prize 
given  to  the  fuccefsful  candidate  was  a  goat,  from  whence  it  received  its 
name  [p].  It  occurred  firft  to  Thefpis,  one  of  thefe  contending  bards, 
to  enliven  the  dulnefs  of  his  periodic  fong  by  fome  tale  or  fable  to  be 
recited  between  the  intervals  by  one  of  the  perfons  employed  to  fing 
in  the  ode.  To  this  perfon  i^fchylus  added  a  fecond  adlor,  as  Sophocles 
aftei-wards  did  a  third,  forming  a  dramatic  dialogue  in  which  the  ori- 

[p]  ToxyuSix,,  liieraUy  means  the  fong  of  the  goat. 

So  Horace, 

*  Carmine  qui  tragico  vilem  certavit  ob  hircum.'     Art.  Poet.  22a 

'  He  who  the  prize,  a  filthy  goat,  to  gain, 

^  At  firft  contended  in  the  tragic  ftrain.'  Colman. 


F  f  2  ginal 


220  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 

ginal  reciter  of  the  fable,  taken  from  the  mufical  performers  of  the  ode, 
had  only  a  fubordinate  part.  For  a  confiderable  time  however,  the 
mufical  part  continued  to  be  confidered  as  the  chief;  and  the  dramatic 
part  as  a  kind  of  deviation  from  the  regular  form  of  tragedy  [qJ,  which 
was  fandioned  by  religion,  and  fupported  and  regulated  by  the  magif- 
trates,  and  from  that  circumftance  received  the  appellation  of  epifode, 
which  it  ever  afterwards  retained.  From  this  it  is  obvious,  that  the  chorus 
was  not  the  choice  of  the  poet,  but  a  neceffary  appendage  to  the  theatre 
which  neither  law  nor  cuflom  would  permit  him  to  difpenfe  with. 

This  particular  circumftance  of  the  Greek  tragedy,  which  occafioned 
them  to  fmuggle  as  it  were  the  dramatic  fable  on  the  public  between 
the  paufes  of  a  mufical  compofitlon,  cannot  fail  of  reminding  us  of  the 
mode  adopted  by  the  provincial  theatres  to  avoid  the  rigor  of  the  law 
before  the  late  adl  in  their  favor,  by  receiving  money  for  a  concert  of 
mulic,  and  announcing  a  play  to  be  adled  gratis  during  the  intervals  [r]. 

NOTE 

[qJ]  From  this  cuftom  of  deviating  from  the  original  defign  of  praifing  Bacchus  in  thefe 
odes,  arofe  the  Greek  proverb  OuJ'ji/  wfiof  AiovvTtxv.  '  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  BacchuSy 
which  was  appUed  generally  to  any  thing  introduced  foreign  to  the  fubjeft  in  queftion. 

[r]  By  fuch  a  fubterfuge  was  the  illuftrious  Garrick  firft  ufiiered  to  the  public  notice.  The 
curious  reader  will  not  be  difpleafed  to  fee  a  copy  of  the  bill  that  announced  him.  '  Good- 
'  man's  Fields,  Odober  19,  1741.  At  the  late  theatre  in  Goodman's  Fields,  this  day  will 
'  be  performed,  a  concert  of  vocal  and  inftrumental  mufic,  divided  into  two  parts.  Tickets 
'  at  three,  two,  and  one  fliilling.  Places  for  the  boxes  to  be  taken  at  the  Fleece  Tavern 
'  near  the  theatre.  N.  B.  Between  the  two  parts  of  the  concert  will  be  prcfented  an  hifto- 
'  rical  play,  called  The  Life  and  Deaih  of  King  Richard  the  Third  :  containing  the  diftreflcs 
*  of  King  Henry  vi.  the  artful  acquifition  of  the  crown  by  King  Richard,  the  murder  of 
'  young  King  Edward  the  Fifth  and  his  brother  in  the  Tower  ;  the  landing  of  the  Earl  of 
»^  Richmond,  and  tlic  death  of  King  Richard,,  in  the  memorable  battle  of  Bofworth  Field, 

*■  being 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  AP.ISTOTLE,  221 


NOTE      III. 


THE     EXODE. 


THE  exode  does  not  mean  the  cataftrophe  of  the  fable,  but  the  con- 
clufion  of  the  piece,  though  the  cataftrophe  was  often  comprehended 
in  it ;  it  was  in  efFedl  the  laft  adl.  The  Greek  tragedies,  Uke  ours, 
generally  end  with  fome  moral  fentence  drawn  from  the  events  of  the 
fable.  All  thofe  of  Sophocles  do.  Euripides  makes  the  fame  fentence 
ferve  for  feveral  plays.  Thefe  are  ufually  fpoken  by  the  chorus,  not 
fung,  for  the  diftindlion  of  the  exode  is  its  following  the  laft  ode  of  the 
chorus. 


'  being  the  laft  that  was  fought  between  the  houfes  of  York  and  Lancafter ;  with  many 
'  other  true  hiftorical  paflages.  The  part  of  King  Richard,  by  a  gentleman,  (who 
'  NEVER  APPEARED  ON  ANY  STAGE.)  King  Henry,  by  Mr.  Giffard ;  Richmond,  by 
'  Mr.  Marfhall  ;  Prince  Edward,  by  Mifs  Hippifley ;  Duke  of  York,  Mifs  Naylor ;  Duke 

♦  of  Buckingham,  Mr.  Peterfon  ;  Duke  of  Norfolk,  Mr.  Blakes  ;  Lord  Stanley,  Mr.  Pagett; 
'  Oxford,  Mr.  Vaughan  ;  Treffel,  Mr.  William  GifFard  ;  Catefby,  Mr.  Marr ;  RatcliiF, 
'  Mr.  Crofts;  Blunt,  Mr.  Naylor;  Tyrrel,  Mr.  Puttenham  ;  Lord  Mayor,  Mr.  Dunftall ; 
'  the  Queen,  Mrs.  Steele  ;  Dutchefs  of  York,  Mrs.  Gates  ;  and  the  part  of  Lady  Anne,  by 
'  Mrs.  Giffard.  With  entertainments  of  dancing,  by  Monf.  Fromet,  Madam  Duval,  and 
'  the  two  Mafters  and  Mifs  Granier.     To  which  will  be  added,  a  Ballad  Opera  of  one 

♦  aft,  called  the  Virgin  Unmafked.  The  part  of  Lucy,  by  Mifs  Hippifley.  Both  of  which 
'  will  be  performed  gratis  by  perfons  for  their  diverfion.  The  concert  will  begin  exadtly  at 
'  fix  o'clock.'  This  curiofity  was  communicated  to  me  by  Mr.  William  Giffard,.  one  of  the 
performersj  now  (1791)  living  at  Southampton,  a  gentleman  in  character  and  manners  truly 
refpecSable. 


It 


222  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 

It  was  the  cuflom  of  the  Roman  comic  theatre  for  one  of  the  cha- 
rafters  to  addrefs  the  audience,  and  folicit  their  favor  by  faying  plau- 
DiTE.  This  was  partly  followed  by  our  eider  comic  writers  who  would 
frequently  bring  one  of  the  characflers  forward  to  addrefs  the  audience, 
in  what  was  then  called  an  epilogue.  As  for  example  in  the  epilogues 
to  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well,  and  As  You  Like  It.  From  this  arofe 
the  modern  epilogue  which  is  now  confidered  as  an  effential  appendage 
to  every  new  drama.  This  is  fometimes  fpoken  in  the  charadler  that 
has  been  performed,  as  in  the  celebrated  epilogue  to  the  Diftrefied 
Mother  which  is  flill  always  called  for  whenever  the  play  is  afted. 
Sometimes  in  the  perfon  of  the  particular  adlof  that  fpeaks  it,  as  in  the 
epilogue  to  Dryden's  Tyrannic  Love  fpoken  by  Nell  Gwin  which 
begins, 

*  Hold,  are  you  mad,  you  damn'd  confounded  dog  ! 

•  I  am  to  rife  and  fpeak  the  epilogue  [s].' 

And  fometimes,  indeed  mofl  commonly,  as  an  indifferent  perfon. 

Many  of  our  epilogues  abound  with  wit  and  humour.  That  to  the 
Clandefline  Marriage  is  a  kind  of  after-piece  [t]. 

Much  has  been  faid  both  for  and  againfl  thefe  kind  of  ludicrous  epi- 
logues to  tragedy.     Thomfon  pafles  a  fevere  fentence  on  them  in  the 

[s]  It  is  now  univerfally  the  pra£lice  for  the  curtain  to  drop  and  the  player  to  go  out, 
and  return  again,  even  if  the  epilogue  is  fpoken  in  charadler.  Such  a  conduft  as  this  of 
Dryden's  is  a  diredl  avowal  of  the  theatrical  deception. 

[t]  For  an  inllance  of  an  epilogue  fupplemental  to  the  tragedy,  fee  Note  ii.  Chap.  xiii. 

epilogue 


NpTE  III.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  223 

epilogue  to  his  Tancred  and  Sigifmunda.  The  Spedator,  No.  338, 
criticifes  the  epilogue  to  the  Diftreffed  Mother,  to  which  there  is  a  very 
pert  and  fuperficial  anfwcr  by  the  author  of  the  epilogue  himfelf, 
(Budgel),  as  appears  by  the  fignature  in  the  Speiftator,  No.  341.  Our 
philofophical  critic  would  certainly  have  condemned  this  cuftom,  as 
every  one  muft  who  confiders  it  as  the  objed  of  tragedy  to  make  any 
ferious  impreflion  on  the  mind,  and  not  be  confidered  merely  as  the- 
amufement  of  the  moment.  A  humorous  after-piece  has  fomething  of 
the  fame  effeft,  but  not  in  the  fame  degree,  as  the  epilogue  in  queftion- 
is  a  ludicrous  cenfure  on  the  [u]  incidents  of  the  piece.  Budgel  juftifies 
h-is.  prologue  from  the  French  cuflom  of  clofing  their  tragic  entertain- 
ments witli  a  ridiculous  petite  piece,  a  cuflom  but  lately  introduced 
here  during  the  firft  nine  nights  of  a  new  play ;  and  if  we  credit  a 
French  writer  in  preference  to  Mr.  Budgel,  the  pracSlice  was  the  fame 
on  the  French  flage  at  the  time  his  defence  was  written,  (1712).    '  The 

*  cuftom  of  giving  a  fmall  piece  after  the  larger  has  only  been  efta- 

'  bliflied  fince  the  year  1722.     The   larger  pieces  at  firfh  ading  were- 

*  conftantly  performed   by  thenrfelves,  and  a  fmaller  piece   was  never 
'  added  till  after  the  eighth  or   tenth  reprefentation,  and  which   was 

*  always  confidered  then  as  a  fymptom  that  the  play  was  likely  not  to 

*  be  well  received.     To  obviate  this   opinion,   fometimes   ill  founded, 
'  but  always  prejudicial,   M.  de  la  Mothe  caufed  a  petite  piece  to  be 

*  played  the  firft  night  of  the  reprefentation  of  his  tragedy  of  Romulus, 

*  and  the  practice  has  been  continued  ever  fince.'     Dictionnaire 
d'Anecdotes,  Art.  Comedie  Fran^oise.     Under  the  fame  article 
is  a  ridiculous  anecdote  relative  to  the  tragedy,  from  which  the  DiftreiTed- 
Mother  is  nearly  a  tranflation.     *  A  grave  magiftrate  who  had  never. 

[u]  See.  conclufion  of  Note  11.  Chap.  vi. 

'  been: 


224  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 

'  been  at  a  play,  was  perfuaded  to  go  by  fome  of  his  friends  from  the 
'  aflurance  they  gave  him  that  he  would  receive  much  entertainment 

*  from  the  tragedy  of  Andromache.     He  was  very  attentive  to  the  play 

*  which  was  followed  by  a  farce  called  the  Pleaders.  On  coming  out 
'  he  met  the  author,  and  meaning  to  pay  him  a  compliment,   faid  to 

*  him,  "  I  am  vaftly  pleafed  with  your  Andromache.  It  is  really  a 
"  capital  piece ;  but  yet  I  own  I  am  a  little  furprifed  you  make  it  end 
"  fo  merrily.  I  was  once  very  near  crying,  but  when  thofe  comical 
"  little  dogs  appeared  I  could  not  help  laughing." 

It  is  with  regret  I  obferve,  that  the  modern  drama  is  again  adopting 
the  cuftom  of  the  aftors  addreffing  the  audience  at  the  conclufion  of  the 
piece.  Befides  the  abfurdity  of  this  practice  [w],  which  tends  to  dc- 
ftroy  the  effedl  of  the  fcene,  it  is  attended  with  the  grofleft  and  moft 

[w]  Every  allufionto  the  drama,  in  a  drama,  is  out  of  place,  and  abfurd.  LefTing,  Vol.  i. 
p.  204,  cenfures  this  paflage  in  the  Merope  of  Maffei,  both  from  this  reafon,  and  on  account 
of  the  anachronifm  in  mentioning  the  fcene  before  the  exiftence  of  the  drama. 

'  Con  cofi  ftrani  auvenimenti  forse 
'  Non  vide  mai  favoleggiar  le  fcene.' 

<  Ne'er  has  the  fcene  fuch  ftrange  events  difplay'd.' 

Dryden  has  been  guilty  of  both  thefe  errors  in  the  fpeech  he  puts  into  the  mouth  of  CEdipus, 

which  begins, 

'  O  that  as  oft  at  Athens  I  have  feen 

'  The  ftage  arife,  and  the  big  clouds  dcfcend.' 


and  of  one  of  them  in  Love  Triumphant,  where  Veramond  compares  the  cataftrophe  to  the 
— '  winding  up  of  fome  defign, 


'  Well  form'd  upon  the  crouded  theatre.' 
Our  great  poet  of  nature  is  but  too  much  addicted  to  this  practice, 

fervilc 


Note  in.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  225 

fervile  flattery.  The  infolent  tranquillity  with  which  an  audience  will 
receive  the  higheft  ftrains  of  adulation  under  the  fpecious  appellation 
of  THE  PUBLIC  is  no  bad  fpecimen  of  the  refpeft  a  [x]  democratic  affem- 
bly  has  for  the  rights  and  equality  of  mankind.  I  have  blufhed  for 
my  countrymen  when  I  have  feen  them  in  a  body  receive  almoft  adora- 
tion from  a  lovely  and  accomplifhed  adlrefs  which  any  individual  of  them, 
would  have  been  proud  to  offer. 

I  am  forry  to  add,  that  this  difgraceful  pra<ftice  is  not  confined  to  the 
mufical  drama.  To  the  beil  of  my  recoUedlion,  it  was  firft  revived  in  a 
regular  and  excellent  comedy,  The  Clandefline  Marriage.  The  tragic 
mufe  has,  I  believe,  hitherto  kept  herfelf  clear  of  this  degradation^ 

[x]  Left  I  fhould  be  thought,  in  this  fentence  to  be  libelling  the  Houfe  of  Commons,  I 
beg  leave  to  obferve,  that  neither  that  aflembly,  nor  any  reprefentative  body  whatever,  can  be 
called  democratical.  All  reprefentatives  are,  to  ufe  the  words  of  Colonel  Mitford,^  ♦  perfons 
'  cle£ted  by  the  people  to  legiflative  authority,  for  merit  real  or  fuppofed.'  See  History  of 
Greece,  Chap.  v.  Seft.  i.  Our  Houfe  of  Commons  has  befides  diftindlion  of  rank, 
which  evidently  muft  arife  from  the  qualification  of  property  required.  To  quote  the  words 
of  our  Critic  where  he  is  defining  the  different  forms  of  government,  oVou  »i  uroAirfi'a; 
feAETTti  £i;  T£  ■stXoutov,  Kxi  ccpiTvy,  xx)  Sv\fj.ov,  uToti  h  Kap^rt^ovi,  durri  ocpironpurmri  eVi. 
Arist.  Polit.  L.  IV.  C.  viii.  '  When  the  form  of  the  commonwealdi  looks  up  to  riches, 
«•  to  virtue,  and  to  the  opinion  of  the  people,  as  in  Carthage  it  is  ariftocratical.'  I  wifh  to 
know  how  the  qualifications  of  a  member  of  parliament  could  be  more  exadly  exprefled,  a 
eertain  quantity  of  property,  merit  real  or  fuppofed,  and  popularity. 


G  g  NOTE 


226  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 


"NOTE      IV. 

THE     CHORUS. 

[y]  we  have  already  traced  the  origin  of  this  appendage  to  the 
ancient  tragedy ;  and  fliewn  that  it  was  not  at  leaft  invented  for  the 
purpofe  of  heightening  either  the  probabiHty  of  dramatic  reprefentation, 
or  afiifting  its  moral  tendency.  That  it  has  thefe  effects,  as  well  as 
fome  other  collateral  advantages  has  been  the  opinion  of  ibme  of  the 
moft  judicious  critics  both  of  the  French  and  Englifh  fchool.  I  (hall 
therefore  examine  how  far  this  opinion  appears  to  be  founded  on  truth ; 
dividing  my  enquiry  into  three  heads.  The  effedl  of  the  chorus,  on 
dramatic  probability.  On  the  moral  influence  of  the  drama.  And  on 
the  condudl  of  the  fable,  by  preventing  unmeaning  converfation  between 
confidents,  officers,  &c.  for  the  fake  of  unfolding  events  to  the  audi- 
ence which  they  could  not  otherwife  learn.  For  on  thefe  three  points 
all  the  arguments  in  favor  of  the  chorus  feem  to  reft. 

And  firft  as  to  the  probability.  The  bill^op  of  Worccfter  in  his 
notes  on  the  Epiftle  to  the  Pifos  makes  the  follovang  obfervation.     '  A 

*  chorus  interpofing,   and   bearing  a  part  in  the  progrefs  of  the  adtion 

*  gives   the  reprefentation  that  probability,  and  ftriking  refemblance  of 

*  real  life  which  [z]  every   man   of    sense  perceives,   or  feels  the 

[■y]   See  Note  ii.  this  chapter. 

[z]  With  all  my  refpeiS  for  this  elegant  critic,  I  think  he  has   gone   a  little  too  far  in 

branding  all  who  dilTer  in  opinion  with  him  on,  at  leaft  a  difputed  hj-pothcfis,  with  folly.     It 

favors  a  little  of  the  concluding  decree  in  Bramfton's  '  Man  of  Taftc' 

'  This  is  true  tafte,  and  whofo  likes  it  not, 

^»Is  blockhead,  coxcomb,  puppy,  fool,  and  fot.' 

'  want 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  227 

*  want  of,  upon  our  ftage ;  a  want  which  nothing  but  fuch  an  expedi- 

*  ent  as  the  chorus  can  poffibly  fupply.'  In  this  paffage  probabiHty  of 
action  is  evidently  confounded  with  probabihty  of  reprefentation.  If 
the  fable  is  well  formed,  the  fituations  affedting,  the  language  adapted 
to  the  paffion,  and  thefe  aflifted  by  the  natural  cxprefTion  and  powers  of 
the  adlor  [a],  without  doubt  the  aUufion  is  compleat.  We  are  hurried 
away  by  our  feelings,  and  we  yield  to  the  iinpreffion  of  the  fcene.  But 
in  this  cafe  we  never  enquire  where  we  are,  or  how  it  is  pofTible  fuch 
a  fcene  (hould  pafs  before  fuch  a  number  of  fpedtators  as  furround  us  ; 
at  fuch  a  queftion  the  whole  delufion  vanifhes,  and  inftead  of  being  ia 
the  caftle  of  Macbeth,  or  the  tent  of  King  John,  we  inilantly  find  our- 
felves  in  the  Theatre  RoyaL 

It  is  impoflible  for  any  notion  to  be  more  unfounded  on  truth  than 
that  which  fuppofes  that  no  dramatic  adlion  can  have  the  requifite  pro- 
bability for  public  reprefentation  that  may  not  be  fuppofed  to  pafs  before 
fpeftators,  and  tliat  confequently  a  dramatic  audience  before  whom  the 
real  action  is  fuppofed  to  pafs  is  necellary  both  to  encreafe  the  proba- 
bility of  the  fcene,  and  confine  the  poet  to  fuch  events  as  may  naturally 
happen  in  public.  It  is  proved  beyond  a  doubt  that  when  we  refledl 
for  an  inflant,  a  momentary  fufpenfion  of  the  delirium  in  which  we 

[a]  It  may  tend  to  fome  elucidation  of  this  fubjeft  to  enquire  how  the  force  of  dramatic 
illufion  is  efFefted  by  the  being  acquainted  with  the  voice  and  perfon  of  the  aftors,  or  by 
being  in  habits  of  intimacy  with  them.  I  think  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  different  effefls 
of  the  itinerant  preacher,  and  the  regular  clergyman  on  the  lower  pait  of  the  congregation, 
arifes  in  great  meafure,  though  not  entirely,  from  this.  But  then  in  this  cafe  the  differ- 
ence arifes  from  the  opinion  entertained  as  to  their  being  really  in  earnefl,  and  the  little 
opportunity  tliere  is  of  feeing  in  one  how  his  dodlrine  may  be  contradicted  by  his  life  ;  while 
an  a(ftor,  however  ftrange  to  us,  is  always  known  to  be  an  adtor. 


Gg  2 


are 


,«28  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  xn, 

are  involved  by  the  combined  arts  of  poet  and  the  player,  convinces  us 
where  we  really  are.  The  ornaments  of  the  tlieatre,  however  well 
adapted  to  the  play,  (and,  when  well  adapted,  they  certainly  encreafe  the 
delufion  while  it  lafts,  and  flatter  our  love  of  propriety  when  it  ceafes,) 
no  more  deceive  us  than  if  the  performance  were  in  an  indifferent  room. 
The  moment  therefore  we  come  to.confider  that  there  are  other  fpe(5Va- 
tors  befides  ourfelves,  this  difenchantment  is  effedled. 

[b]  In  faft,  the  border  of  the  ftage  may  be  confidered  as  the  frame 
of  a  pid:ure,  dividing  the  real  from  the  imaginary  fcene  j  and  there  is 
no  more  impropriety  in  imagining  an  acftion,  or  converfation  of  the  mofl: 
private  nature,  to  pafs  before  a  crouded  theatre,  than  for  a  pidlnre  of 
Diana  bathing  to  be  fliewn  in  a  full  exhibition  room  at  the  Royal 
Academy.  That  real  delufion  may  have  taken  place  in  weak  or  in  de- 
ranged minds  I  will  not  deny.  A  countryman  who  had  never  feen  a 
play  might  miflake  the  reprefentatlon  for  the  reality  j  and  if  they  are 
not  founded  on  truth,  at  the  leaft  there  is  no  improbability  in  the  ftories 
.of  the  [c]  clown,  who  got  up  to  go  out  on  the  entrance  of  the  players 

f  e]  Since  the  above  was  written  I  have  had  the  pleafure  to  fee  tlie  fame  remark  made  and 
illuftrated  in  Mr.  Saunders's  Treatife  on  Theatres.  '  A  divifion  is  nccelTary  between  the 
'  theatre  and  the  ftage,  and  fhould  be  fo  charafterifed  as  to  aflift  the  idea  of  their  being  two 

'  diftind  places.' '  Were  a  painted  frame  to  be  propofed  for  a  piiSure,  how  would  the 

'  connoiffeurs  ex-claim  1  The  fcene  is  the  pidlure,  the  frontifpiece  is  the  frame,  or  in  otlier 
'  words,  the  frame  ihould  contraft  the  pidurs,  and  thereby  add  to  the  delufion.'     P.  36,  84. 

[c]  I  once  was  prefent  at  the  reprefentatlon  of  The  Recruiting  Officer  by  a  ftrolling 
company,  when  a  country  fellow  rather  weak  in  his  inteliefts  went  upon  the  ftage 
to  enlift  as  Serjeant  Kite  was  diftributuig  the  king's  pidure.  It  appeared  he  was  ferious 
in  his  intent,  from  his  enlifting  with  the  firft  recruiting  party  that  came  into  the  town  after- 
wards, 

as 


IS^oTEiv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  229 

as  imagining  them  difcourfing  on  private  buiinefs ;  and  the  iailor  who, 
provoked  to  fee  the  death  of  Effex  likely  to  happen  from  the  counted 
•of  Nottingham  concealing  the  ring  when  Elizabeth  afked  her, 

*  What,  faid  he  nothing  of  a  private  import  ? 

*  No  circumftance — no  pledge — no  ring  ?' 

i;-.  ^;    ij..  •  i 

on  Nottingham's  anfwering  *  none  !'  roared  out  from  the  gallery,  *  It  is 
•  a  d — 'd  lie,  for  I  faw  him  give  it  her  myfelf.'  The  behaviour  there- 
fore of  Partridge,  at  the  reprefentation  of  Hamlet  in  Tom  Jones  is 
jiot  unnatural,  any  more  than  that  of"  Don  Quixote  among  the  puppets, 
iince  the  fame  man  who  miftook  a  windmill  for  a  giant,  might  eafily 
fuppofe  a  puppet- fhew  to  be  a  reality. 

All  the  confequences  then  of  this  boafled  additional  probability  which 
tragedy  would  derive  from  the  ufe  of  a  chorus  feem  to  be  thefe.  Firfl:, 
it  muft  oblige  the  poet  to  confine  the  tijiie  of  aftion  within  the  pre- 
<cife  time  of  the  reprefentation.  For  when  this  time  is  exceeded  on  the 
Grecian  ftage,  of  which  there  are  many  inftances,  the  natural  and  pro- 
bable unity  of  time  is  violated  from  the  continual  prefence  of  the 
chorus,  notwithflanding  the  latitude  allowed  by  Ariftotle  [d].  And 
fecondly,  without  any  reafon  founded  on  the  truth  of  reprefentation,  it 
■deprives  him  of  fituations  in  every  refpe<fl  the  moft  interefting,  and  moft 
fitted  to  the  purpofe  of  tragedy  that  his  imagination  can  conceive. 
Indeed  the  ftilts,  the  monfirous  malks,  and  the  unnatural  recitation  of 
the  ancient  theatre,  made  the  chorus  not  fo  great  an  encumbrance  there 
as  it  would  be  on  ours.  The  effed:  of  the  Grecian  drama  was  almoil 
TLiniverfally  derived  from  great  and  ftriking  events,  and  feldom  from  the 

[x>]  See  Note  iii.  Chap.  v. 

dialogue. 


230  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xn. 

dialogue  which  is  fo  great  a  fource  both  of  terror  and  diftrefs  on  our 
ftage.  The  moft  affecfling  fcenes  on  the  modern  theatre,  and  which 
give  the  moft  ample  fcope  to  the  genius  of  the  poet,  and  the  exertions 
of  the  player,  are  thofe  where  one  charadler  is  working  on  the  feelings 
of  another ;  fcenes,  of  which  if  there  are  any,  there  are  only  faint 
traces  to  be  difcovered  in  the  Grecian  tragedy,  and  v/hich  indeed  are 
utterly  incompatible  with  the  conftant  prefence  of  a  chorus.  Surely  the 
moft  fanguine  admirer  of  antiquity  cannot  hefitate  a  moment  in  con- 
demning an  hypothefis  which,  if  received,  muft  immediately  banifli 
from  the  ftage  the  fcenes  between  Lady  Macbeth  and  her  hufband,  lago 
and  Othello,  and  King  John  and  Hubert. 

Before   I  quit  the  probability  of  the  chorus,   I   mufl:  beg  to  cite  a, 
pafTage  from  M.  Brumoy  in  favor  of  it.     *  I  know,'  he  fays,  *  it  has 

*  fome    inconveniencies,   and    it    has   fometimes    thrown    the    ancients 

*  into  errors  againfl  probability,  but  its  advantages  infinitely  more  than 

*  balance  its  inconveniencies.      [e]  Sophocles  knew  how  to  get  rid  of 

*  the  chorus  for  a  few  moments  when  he  had  occafion  to  do  it ;  as  in 
'  his  Ajax.  It  is  the  poet  therefore,  and  not  the  chorus  that  ought  to 
'  be  blamed  when  he  is  put  to  inconvenience  by  it.'  I  perfedlly 
agree  with  M.  Brumoy  in  this  polition,  that  the  poet  is  folely  to 
blame  who  admits  the  chorus  where  he  can  get  rid  of  it  (as  every 
modern  poet  can)  in  every  place  where  it  cannot  be  admitted  witli 
propriety,  and  this  I  think  comprehends  every  part  of  the  adlion. 
Between  the  afts  it  might  be  admitted  v/ith  ftridl  propriety,  but  it  is 
perhaps  impradricable  from  a  reafon  already  mentioned  [f].  M.  Brumoy 
then  proceeds  to  fl:ate  the  conveniencles  of  the  chorus,  which  are  thofe 

[k]  See  Note  m.  Chap,  xi;  [k]  See  Note  11.  Chnp.  vi. 

already 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  231 

already  mentioned,  and  concludes  with  a  defcription  of  the  [g]  dance 
which  accompanied  the  choral  ode,  I  fuppofe,  as  a  decifive  proof  of  the 
PROBABILITY  it  gave  to  dramatic  reprefentation. 

We  next  come  to  the  moral  effeft  of  the  chorus,  or  the  advantage 
the  drama  derives  in  this  refped:  from  the  remarks  made  on  the  condudt 
and  fentiments  of  the  charafters  during  the  courfe  of  the  atftion.  This  has 
afforded  the  critics  an  ample  field  for  panegyric,  and  the  opinion  has  been 
fupported  by  fome  names  highly  eminent  both  for  genius  and  learning. 
Mr.  Mafon  in  his  Letters  on  Elfrida,  (Letter  iv,  near  the  end),  after 
having  mentioned  Pierre  as  a  chara<fi:er  much  *  calculated  to  leave  falle 

*  and  immoral  impreffions  on  the  fpedator,'  adds,  that  he  knovi's  of 
none  more  capable  of  '  doing  fervice  in  a  moral  view,  when  juftly  ani- 

*  madverted  on  by  a  chorus;'  and  fays  further,  that  bad  charadters  be- 
come on  this  plan  as  harmlefs  in  the  hands  of  the  poet  as  the  hillorian.' 
The  cafe  of  the  hiftorian  and  the  poet  here,  however,  are  widely  dif- 
ferent. The  hiilori-in  mufl:  recite  fadls  as  they  are,  or  at  leaft  as  he  is 
informed  they  are,  and  therefore  if  they  are  fo  arranged  as  to  be  liable  to 
make  wrong  imprefiions,  as  he  cannot  alter  the  arrangement,  he  muft 
ilep  forward  in  his  own  perfon,   and  make  the  necefl'ary  comrjient  on 

[c]  The  c'liorus  was  arranged  in  three  ranks,  of  five  each  v;hen  confifling  of  fifteen  per- 
formers, and  four  when  of  twelve,  who  imitated  in  their  evolutions  the  fuppofed  motion  of 
the  heavenly  bodies.  Turning  from  right  to  left  in  imitation  of  the  daily  movement  of  the 
firmament  from  eaft  to  weft  while  the  firft  fianza  was  performinc;,  which  received  froni 
thence  the  name  of  strophe  ;  and  from  left  to  right  in  Imitation  of  the  occafional  move- 
ment of  the  planets  from  weft  to  eaft  during  the  fecond  ftanza  or  antistrophe  ;  and  re- 
maining fixed  during  the  third  ftanza  or  epode  to  mark  the  ftability  of  the  earth.  Ben 
Jonfon,  in  the  firft  regular  imitation  v/e  have  of  the  Grecian  ode,  calls  thefe  ftanzas  by  th^ 
names  of  turn,  countcrturn,  and  ftand. 

the 


232  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  xir. 

the  aftion.  But  it  is  the  poet's  fault  if  his  adlion  requires  any  fucb 
comment  at  all,  as  it  is  in  his  option  to  arrange  his  incidents  as  he 
ehufes.  If  the  poet  really  draws  his  fabk,  or  forms  his  charadlers  in 
fuch  a  manner  as  to  have  an  immoral  tendency,  it  is  in  vain  for  a  chorus 
to  come  forward  and  try  to  explain  it  away  or  efface  by  words  an  impreffion 
that  has  been  made  by  incident.  And  if  the  fable  and  characfters  have 
on  the  whole  a  moral  tendency,  whatever  partial  and  temporary  paflages 
may  have  a  contrary  appearance  in  tlie  courfe  of  the  reprefentation,  any 
tranfient  impreflion  of  that  fort  mufh  be  removed  in  the  end  without 
having  recourfe  to  io  inartificial  an  expedient  as  the  introdudiion  of  a 
chorus.     *   If  the  manners  either  of  a  vicious  or  a  ridiculous  charadler 

*  are  well  marked  either  in  tragedy  or  comedy,  his  words  can  have  no 

*  dangerous-  efFe£t  on  the  audience  even  at  the  moment ;  becaufe  the 
'  fpedator  will  never  regulate  his  own  condudt,  and  fentiments,  by  thofe 

*  of  a  perfon,  who  from  the  opening  of  the  piece  is  propofed  to  him  as 

*  an  example  of  error  and  misfortune.' — Terrasson.. 

This  interference  of  the  chorus  is  like  the  moral  ufually  added  to^ 
fables  written  for  children,  and  the  inutility  of  thcfe  is  fairly  demonftrated 
by  Roufleau,  in  his  Emilius  [h],  when  he  is  fpeaking  of  the  impropriety 
of  putting  the  fables  of  La  Fonuine  into  their  hands. 

In  fhort,  if  the  poet  has  drawn  vice  amiable,  and  virtue  contemptible 
or  repelling,  it  is  in  vain  for  him  to  endeavour  to  alter  the  impreflion  by 
a  chorus.  Indeed,  v/e  never  want  a  chorus  to  define  right  from 
wrong.  Do  we  want  a  chorus  to  tell  us  that  Lovelace  is  an  ac- 
complifhed  villain,  and  Grandifon  a  pattern  of  confummate  virtue  ?  and 
yet  there  is  fomething  fo  repelling  in  the  virtue  of  the  one,  and  fo  amiable 


[h]  Vol,  I.  Part  I. 

in. 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  233 

in  the  manners  of  the  other,  that  we  can  neither  hate  Lovelace  nor  like 
Grandifon;  therefore  to  ufe,  with  fome  alteration,  the  dccifion  of  M. 
Brumoy  above   quoted,    *  It  is   the   poet  therefore  and  not    the  ah- 

*  fence  of  the  chorus  that  is  to  be  blamed,  when  he  is  put  to  inconve- 

*  nience  by  the  want  of  it.' 

How  cold,  how  unaffeding,  how  fuperfluous,  would  the  animadver- 
fion  of  a  chorus  be  on  the  fufFerings  of  a  Lear,  or  the  crimes  of  a 
Macbeth,  compared  with  the  utterance  of  their  own  feelings  and  tlie 
eiFedt  of  them  on  the  other  perfons  of  the  drama.  It  is  their  expreflion 
of  pity  and  terror !  It  is  the  horror  {hewn  by  the  phylician  and  atten- 
dant during  Lady  Macbeth's  walking  dream,  and  the  indignation  of  Fal- 
conbridge  at  Hubert,  as  the  fuppofed  murderer  of  Arthur,  that  refemble 
the  two  horfes  in  Le  Brun's  pi(fture,  *  who  ftart  back,  with  their  hair 

*  flanding  an  end  left  they  fliould  trample  on  the  bleeding  infants;'  [i] 
and  not  the  dull  unimpaffioned  refledtions  of  a  chorus,  [k]  A  moft  ele- 
gant and  judicious  dramatic  critic  obferves,  *  that  though  it  is  the  office 

*  of  the  chorus,  on  the  Grecian  ftage,  to  moralize,  and  to  point  out  on 

*  every  occafion  the  advantages  of  virtue  over  vice,  yet  how  much  lefs 

*  affedting  are  their  animadverfions   than  the  teftimony  of  the  perfon 

*  concerned !     Whatever  belongs  to  the  chorus  has  hardly  the  effedl  of 

*  dramatic   imitation.     The  chorus  is,  in  a  manner,  without  perfonal 

*  charader  or  intereft,  and  no  way  an  agent  in  the  drama.    ;We  caonot 

*  fympathlze  with  the  cool  refledions  of  thefe  idle  fpedlators  as  we  do 

*  with  the  fentiments  of  the  perfons  in  whofe  circumftances  and  fituation 

*  we  are  interefted.' 

[i]  See  quotation  from  the  Abbe  Vatry,  cited  by  Mr.  Mafon  in  Letter  iv,  on  Elfrida. 
[k]  See  Mrs.  Montague's  Efiay  on  the  Writings  and  Genius  of  Siuikcfpcare. 

.   Hh  Should 


234  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  CifAP.  xii. 

Should  the  dramatic  writer  however  find  himfelf  at  a  lofs  for  want 
of  a  chorus,  and  not  be  contented  or  able  to  deduce  the  proper  effe<fe 
from  the  incidents  and  aftive  charadlers  of  the  piece,  he  mull  create  one 
for  the  purpofe  of  making  moral  refledlions,  which  is  always  in  his  power, 
fince,  as  Brumoy  obferves,  '  the  chorus,  properly  fpeaking  was  the 
*  honeft  man  of  the  piece.'  Therefore  the  poet  may  as  well  give  this 
office  to  a  Menenius,  or  an  i^nobarbus,  as  to  twelve  or  fifteen  citizens 
or  captives. 

It  feems  even  the  chorus  did  not  always  execute  their  office  to  the 
latisfadlion  of  the  people  of  Athens.  We  are  told  by  JE\mn,  that  ^f- 
chylus  was  condemned  by  the  fenate  for  the  impiety  of  one  of  his  playS;, 
and  laved  only  by  the  interceflion  of  his  brother,  who  moved  the  com- 
pallioa  of  the  alTembly  by  fliewing  his  arm  without  the  hand,  which  he 
had  loft  at  the  battle  of  Salamis.  And  Seneca  relates  a  fimilar  ftory  of 
Euripides,  from  which  the  Bilhop  of  Worcefter  infers  the  neceflity  of  a 
chorus,  though  feme  people  perhaps  may  think  it  rather  lliews  its  in- 
efficacy  :  and  that  if  the  tendency  of  the  adtion  appears  immoral  to  the 
fpedlators,  a  by-ftander  will  never  be  able  to  perfuade  them  it  is  moraL 

It  now  remains  to  notice  the  fuppofed  advantage  of  the  chorus,  in  ob- 
viating the  neceffity  of  introducing  ufelefs  confidents  merely  to  fay  yes 
or  no,  while  the  principal  charafbers  are  difcloling  their  fecrets  through 
them  to  the  audience.  But  in  fadt,  the  difference  of  the  ancient  and 
modern  theatre  amounts  only  to  this ;  an  injudicious  modern  poet,  who 
has  no  better  mode  of  unfolding  his  fable  to  the  fpedlator,  invents  a  ufe- 
lels  charader;  whereas  an  ancient  poet,  in  the  fame  predicament  avails 
himfelf  of  one  that  the  cuftom  of  the  theatre  fupplies.  But  the  im- 
propriety 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  235 

propriety  is  exadly  the  liune,  except  that  in  one  cafe  the  confident  is 
alone,  and  in  the  other  accompanied  by  attendants. 

Mr.  Mafon,   in  his  third  letter  on   the  tragedy  of  Elfrida,  which  he 
was  advifed  to  adapt  to  the  modern  ftage,  allows   that,   '  undoubtedly, 

*  mod:  part  of  the  dialogue  of  the  chorus  might  be  put  into  the  mouth 

*  of  an  Emma,  or  Matilda,  who  with  fome  little  fhew  of  fifterly  con- 

*  cernment,  might  eafily  be  made  to  claim  kindred  with  Earl  Athelwood.' 
I  would  not  wifli  that  the  beautiful  poems  of  Elfrida  and  Carad:acus 
were  in  any  refpedl  different  from  what  they  are.  They  are  above  all 
criticifm  and  all  commendation ;  and  we  may  furely  allow  Mr.  Mafon 
to  be  partial  to  a  fpecies  of  drama  in  which  he  has,  in  every  eye  not 
blinded  by  partiality  to  the  ancients,  at  leail  equalled  the  nobleft  models 
of  antiquity.  But  in  regard  to  the  fubjedt  we  are  confidering,  dramatic 
propriety,  the  confidante  he  mentions  would  be  at  leaft  as  proper  as  the 
Coryphaea  of  his  chorus,  who  appears  to  be  only  Elfrida's  principal  fe- 
male fervant ;  fince  Orgar,  fpeaking  to  the  chorus,  fays, 

*  Your  garbs  befpeak  you  for  the  fair  attendants 

*  Of  fome  illuftrious  dame,  the  wife  or  fifter 

*  Of  this  dread  Earl.'— 

and  the  anfwer  allows  the  fuggeflion. 

'  well  we  know 

*  Fidelity's  a  virtue  that  ennobles 

*  Even  fervitude  itfelf.' — 

They  fliould  not  therefore  in  the  dramatis  perfonse,  be  flyled  '  chorus 
■'  of  Britifli  virgins,'  but  *  of  Elfrida's  attendants.' 

H  h  2  It 


236  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xii. 

It  is  befides  much  more  improbable  for  a  charadler  to  impart  a  fe- 
eret  to  twelve  or  fifteen  perfons  than  one.  Of  this  the  ancient  tragic 
poets  were  aware,  and  often  make  their  characters  anfwer  boldly  for  the 
fidelity  of  their  numerous  confidential  friends.  In  the  Eledtra  of  Sopho- 
cles, Oreftes  is  cautious  of  fpeaking  out  before  the  chorus,  confifting  of 
Argive  young  women  :  but  Eleftra  encourages  him. 

[l]  Orest.  *  I  would  tell  you,  if  thefe  women  are  friends.' 

Elect.  *  But  they  are  friends,  therefore  you  will  fpeak  before  thofe 
*•  who  may  be  trufted.' 

In  the  Ccephori  of  i^^fchylus,  Oreftes  is  obliged  to  exhort  the 
chorus,  who  are  alfo  women,  in  rather  harlher  terms  than  was  confiftent 
with  their  independance  [m].  *  I  would  advife  you  to  govern  your 
*  tongues  properly ;  to  be  filent  when  it  is  neceflary,  and  fpeak  only 
'  what  is  convenient.'  And  in  the  Eledlra  of  Euripides,  Oreftes  fliews 
the  fame  caution  as  in  the  tragedy  of  Sophocles,  and  receives  the  fame 
alTurance  from  his  fifter. 

[n]  Orest.  *  Are  thefe,  who  hear  our  converfation  friends  ? 
Elect R A.  *  So  much  fo,  as  carefully  to  keep  all  we  fay  fecret.' 

TlJ    Eyw  ^px<roit[A  ai/,    ei  to  twkJ''  Ivyisv  Tffupcc.. 

AAA     ir'V   £UK81/   WfC   TTpOf    uTiraj   SfV»f. 

l.iya,!'  6'  OTra  StTj   xa»  AtyiiK  tk  nocipict. 

fN"]   'AiJ''  bk  (piXui  <roi  TBf  (J''  diiowDi  xiyov;; 
ilff  ^iyiiv  ye  to,  ^»j  y.</.^  it  iVn  jcaAwf. 

The 


Note  ir.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  237 

Tlie  inconvenience  of  a  chorus  to  the  poet,  when  he  chufcs  a  fubjeft 
uafit  for  tlieir  continued  prcfence,  thougli  in  every  other  rcfped  proper 
for  the  drama,  is  no  where  iliewn  more  clearly  than  in  the  Ilippolytug 
of  Euripides.  Indeed,  it  offends  both  againft  probabihty  and  moraUty, 
Nothing  can  be  more  improbable  than  for  a  woman  to  tiuft  an  inceftuous 
paflion  to  her  confidante  before  feveral  other  indifferent  women :  ^nd 
nothing  more  immoral  than  for  thefe  women  to  promife  to  keep  it  fecret, 
and  to  fulfil  that  promife  though  it  occafioned  the  death  of  an  innocent 
perfon.  Thole  who  have  a  mind  to  fee  how  a  perfon  can  defend  an 
hypothefis  he  favors,  in  defiance  of  his  own  reafon  and  convidtion,  will 
be  entertained  with  Brumoy's  remarks  on  this  tragedy;  v/here,  after  all 
his  arguments,  he  is  obliged  to  allow  their  fophiftry,  and  the  real  and 
radical   defefts  of  the  chorus.     '  If   thefe   excufes,    (he  fays)   though 

*  drawn  from  Euripides  himfelf,  appear  too  far-fetched,  and  are  not  fi- 

*  tisfacSory  to  thofe  who  criticife  the  ancient  theatre ;  thefe  critics  will 

*  agree,  at  leaft,  that  by  thefe  means  the  poet  has  diminifhed  with  a 

*  great  deal  of  art  the  defedt  almofl  infeparable  from  the  chorus,  whofe 
'  eternal  prefence  produces  a  fpedtacle  always  fine,  often  necelTary,  but 

*  fometimes  embarrafling  to  the  principal  aftors.     We  fee,  plainly,  that 
'  Euripides  wifhed  to  avoid  this  defeat,  and  yet  retain  the  chorus  :  for  if 

*  this  many-headed  perfonage  had  been  ignorant  of  Phsdra's  paifion,  it 

*  muft  have  been  mute  and  inactive.     It  would  have  become  ufelefs, 

*  and  would  have  deprived  the  fcene  of  one  of  its  moft  brilliant  orna- 

*  ments.'  [o]. 


[o]  Le  Pere  Brumoy  has  made  a  falfe  criticifm  on  the  Hippolytus  of  Seneca-;  he  blames  the. 
poet  for  fufFering  Hippolytus  to  leave  his  fword  in  the  hands  of  Phaedra,  '  a  thing  (he  fays) 
*■  contrary  to  the  manners  of  the  Greeks,  who  were  never  armed  but  on  a  journey  or  in  war.' 
I  believe  the  critic  forgot  that  Hippolytus  was  juft  returned  from  the  chace, 

I  fhaU. 


238  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xii. 

I  fhall  conclude  this  long  note  with  Mr.  Twining's  fummary,  though 
comprehenfive  view  of  the  progrefs  and  decline  of  the  chorus.     '  At 

*  firft  it  was  all ;  then  relieved  by  the  intermixture  of  dialogue,  but  ftill 

*  principal  j  then  fubordinate ;  then  digreflive,  and  ill-connedted  with 

*  the  piece  j  then  borrowed  from  other  pieces  at  pleafure ;  and  fo  on  to 
■*  the  fiddles,  and  ad  tunes,  at  which  Dacier  is  fo  angry.' 


CHAP. 


Note  r.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  239 


CHAP.      XIII. 

NOTE      I. 

THOSE  WHO  ARE  REPRESENTED  AS  FALLING  FROM  HAPPINESS  TO 
MISERY,  SHOULD  NOT  BE  PERSONS  OF  EXTRAORDINARY  VIRTUE, 
AS  THAT  WOULD  EXCITE  DISGUST,  RATHER  THAN  PITY,  OR 
TERROR. 

1  HIS  rule  is  fo  juft,  and  fo  confonant  with  our  feelings,  that  I  be- 
lieve the  modern  drama  will  hardly  furnifli  us  with  an  inftance  of  a 
perfon  of  exemplary  virtue  fuffering  diftrefs  unlefs  it  is  brought  about 
by  fome  irregular  paffion  of  his  own.  Perhaps  in  the  profe  epopee 
ClarifTa  may  fall  under  this  error :  fmce,  flie  is  a  charader  drawn  as 
nearly  perfedl  as  poffible  j  for  furely  the  fingle  imprudent  ftep  flie  took 
is  not  fufficient  to  obviate  the  objeftion.  I  do  not,  therefore,  fcruple  to 
declare  my  opinion  that  this  much-admired  work  is  faulty  in  this  refped;. 
The  fame  objedion  alfo  lies  again  ft  the  fufferings  of  Clementina  in 
Grandifon.  Whom,  by  the  way,  Richardfon  has  really,  though  unde- 
fignedly,  made  the  heroine  of  his  piece ;  a  confirmation  of  the  opinion 
advanced  in  the  preceding  note,  that  we  judge  of,  and  are  afteded  by  the 
charaders  from  their  adions  and  manners,  and  not  from  what  the  poet 
chufes  to  tell  us,  either  in  his  own  perfon  or  in  that  of  a  fiditious  agent. 


NOTE 


HO  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xiii. 


NOTE     II. 

NEITHER     SHOULD    VICIOUS    CHARACTERS     BE    SHEWN     AS    RISING 
FROM    MISERY    TO    HAPPINESS. 

THE  juftnefs  of  this  remark  is  alfo  confirmed  by  our  own  feelings, 
and  the  uniform  pracftice  of  all  the  imitative  poets.  Dr.  Young  in  his 
tragedy  of  the  Brothers  being  obliged  from  the  circumftances  and 
length  of  his  fable  to  end  his  drama  at  a  jundlure  when  the  villainy 
and  artifice  of  Perfeus  appear  to  be  completely  fuccefsful,  has  thought  it 
neceflary  to  anticipate  his  future  misfortunes  and  difgrace  in  a  fupple- 
mentary  epilogue,  which  begins  thus  : 

*  An  epilogue,  thro'  cuflom,  is  your  right  j 

*  But  ne'er,  perhaps,  was  needful  till  to-night. 
'  To-night  the  virtuous  falls,  the  guilty  flies, 

*  Guilt's  dreadful  clofe  our  narrow  fcene  denies.' [a] 

[a]  See  note  iii,  chap.  xir. 


NOTE 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  241 


NOTE      III. 

NEITHER  SHOULD  A  VERY  BAD  MAN  BE  REPRESENTED  AS  FAL- 
LING FROM  HAPPINESS  TO  MISERY;  FOR  THOUGH  SUCH  AN 
ARRANGEMENT  MIGHT  BE  AGREEABLE  TO  OUR  FEELINGS, 
IT  WOULD  EXCITE  NEITHER  PITY  NOR  TERROR.  FOR  ONE 
OF  THESE  PASSIONS  IS  EXCITED  BY  THE  MISFORTUNES  OF  AN 
INNOCENT     PERSON  J    THE    OTHER     BY     THE     MISFORTUNES    OF     A 

PERSON    IN   THE    SAME    SITUATION   WITH    OURSELVES  ; SUCH 

AN   EVENT,   THEREFORE,  WOULD   BE   NEITHER  DISTRESSFUL   NOR 
ALARMING. 

IT  is  very  obvious  that  Ariftotle  [b],  though  he  blames  this  mode  of 
arranging  the  fable,  at  leaft  prefers  it  to  that  which  he  has  laft  men- 
tioned, as  not  incurring  the  double  defedt  of  being  difagreeable  to  our 
feelings,  and  at  the  fame  time  not  calculated  to  excite  either  pity  or 
terror,  and  therefore  totally  repugnant  to  the  nature  and  end  of  tragedy. 
What  were  the  fentiments  of  the  critic  with  regard  to  the  comparative 
demerits  of  this,  and  the  firfl:  mode,  we  can  only  conjedure,  as  he  is 
himfelf  filent  on  the  fubjed ;  but  from  the  general  dodlrine  he  advances, 
(at  leaft  in  this  chapter,)  we  muft  fuppofe  his  fentence  would  be  moft  in 
favor  of  the  firft,  as  having  tragic  effed,  though  difagreeable  to  our 
feelings. 

The  Fatal  Curiofity  of  Lillo,  which  [c]  Mr.   Harris  (I  fuppofe  by 

[b]  See  note  vi..  chap,  xviii. 

[c]  See  Philological  Enquiries,  p.  154.     Mr.  Harris  feems  to  have  miftalcen  the  circum- 

fbnce  from  which  this  play  takes  its  name  ;  hefuppofes  the  opening  the  cafkettobe  the  Fatal 

Curiosity,  but  I  (hould  rather  conceive  it  to  be  the  defire  of  the  young  man  to  fee  the  effeSt 

of  his  unexpefted  return  on  his  parents. 

I  i  way 


242  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiu. 

way  of  a  dramatic  paradox)  has  chofen  to  compare  with  the  CEdipus,  falls 
exadly  under  the  cenfure  of  this  paflage.  The  mifery  arifes  from  no 
fudden  ftart  of  paflion,  or  involuntary  error,  but  from  the  cruel  and  de- 
liberate murder  of  an  innocent  youth  for  the  fake  of  his  property.  Would 
Mr.  Harris  (to  anticipate  a  definition  in  the  fubfequent  part  of  this 
chapter)  allow  this  hoary  ruffian,  and  his  wife,  who  murder  their  fleep- 
ing  gueft  with  the  fame  purpofe  and  from  the  fame  motive  as  the  mid- 
night houfebreaker,  to  be  perfons  of  high  reputation  and  profperity, 
whofe  misfortunes  arife  from  fome  error  of  human  frailty,  and  whofe 
general  charatlers  and  conduct:  in  life  are  rather  better  and  of  higher 
dignity  than  the  illuftrious  names  produced  from  the  annals  of  Greece; 
for  fo  the  critic  fays  they  ought  to  be  if  the  circumftances  allow  it. 
This  opinion  of  Mr.  Harris  feems  to  have  in  great  meafure  arifen 
from  the  explanation  he  gives  to  the  term  [d]  good,  {x9V^°?)  as  applied 
by  Ariflotle  to  manners,. 

It  is  to  be  remarked,  that  there  is  another  arrangement  which  Ari- 
ftotle  has  omitted ;  that  of  a  virtuous  charadlcr  raifed  from  dillrefs  to 
profperity,  which  would  at  leaft  on  his  ov/n  principles  come  under  the 
fame  clafs  with  that  which  is  the  objed:  of  the  prefent  note,  being 
agreeable  to  our  feelings  but  not  produdtive,  according  to  his  hypotheiis, 
of  tragic  effcft,  though  in  reality  it  is  capable  of  producing  it  in  the  higheft 
degree.  Since  while  the  principal  charadter,  in  whofe  favor  the  fpec- 
tators  muft  b^  moil  ftrongly  interefled  appears  involved  in  deep  diftrefs, 
and  his  deftrudlion  appears  inevitable,  the  paffions  of  pity  and  terror  will 
be  violently  excited ;  and,  if  the  tragedy  poflefTes  the  moft  perfedl  form. 


[d]  Philological  Enquiries,  p.  170.     For  adifFerent  explanation  of  this  term,  fee  note  r,. 
chap.  x\\ 

unit- 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  243 

[e]  uniting  the  cjifcovcry,  and  peripetia  with  the  catailrophe,  this  will  con- 
tinue through  the  greateft  part  of  the  piece.  Ariftotle  himfelf  lays  in 
this  paffage,  that  pity  is  excited  by  the  Tufferings  of  innocence,  and  there 
is  no  reafon  why  the  charadler  fhould  not  alfo  poflefs  that  equality  of  litua- 
tion  which  he  requires  as  calculated  to  raifc  terror.  Perhaps  on  confidering 
this  fubjedl  very  attentively,  weighing  all  the  reafoningof  Ariftotle  on  the 
fubjedt,  recoUeding  how  capable  fuch  an  arrangement  is  of  producing 
pity  and  terror,  and  with  what  thin  fliades  fuch  a  charadier  may  be  dif- 
tinguifhed  from  that  which  he  afterwards  points  out  as  proper  for, 
tragedy,  we  may  be  the  lefs  furprifed  at  his  not  being  perfeftly  fatisfied 
with  his  own  hypothecs  as  to  the  tragic  cataftrophe.  For  to  fome  fuch 
wavering  of  opinion  I  think,  we  muft  impute  part  of  what  he  iays  on 
this  fubjeft  in  the  next  chapter  [f]. 

When  Ariftotle  fpeaks  of  fimilitude  of  character  as  effential  to  excite 
terror,  it  is  obvious  he  does  not  mean  as  to  rank  in  life,  but  as  to  difpo- 
fition,  virtue,  and  domeftic  connedions ;  for  high  rank  in  life  was  ne- 
ceflary,  both  from  the  pradlice  of  the  Greek  theatre,  and  the  dodlrine  of 
Ariftotle,  to  the  principal  perfons  of  tragedy.  A  private  citizen  of 
Athens,  or  of  London,  might  be  exadly  in  the  fame  fituation  with 
CEdipus,  though  a  monarch,  as  to  every  circumftance  on  which  the  dif- 
trefs  of  the  tragedy  turns.  But  though  the  tale  of  domeftic  forrow  in 
private  life  was  not  admitted,  either  into  the  drama  or  epopee  in  the  time 
of  Ariftotle,  he  neverthelefs  could  fee,  that  the  efteds  of  pity  and  tenor 
muft  increafe  in  proportion  to  the  refembknce  of  charader  in  every 

[e]  See  chap.  xi. 

[f]  See  note  iv,  chap.  xiv.  where  there  is  an  attempt  to  account  for  this  feeming  Incon- 
fiftency  on  other  principles. 

I  i  2  refped. 


244  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xiii. 

refpedt.  For  he  fays  in  another  place  [g],  '  We  pity  thofe  who  are  our 
'  equals  in  age,  in  manners,  in  habits,  in  rank,  and  in  family,  fmce  in 

*  all  thefe  circumftances  of  likenefs,  the  fame  things  are  moft  likely  to 

*  happen   to  ourfelvesj  and  we  may  conclude  in  general,  that  thofe 

*  events  which  we  fear  fhould  happen  to  ourfelves,  excite  our  pity  when 

*  they  happen  to  others.' 

As  a  farther  illuftration  of  this,  and  of  what  I  have  [h]  before  ad- 
vanced, concerning  the  private  life  tragedy,  efpecially  in  profe,  I  fhall 
produce  a  quotation  from  the  much  admired  work  of  the  Abbe 
Barthelemi. 

*  ZopiRUS.     And  why  do  you  not  fometimes  fele(ft  thefe  great  mif- 

*  fortunes,   from   the  events  of  private  life  ?     They  would  afFedl   me 

*  much  more  flrongly  if  I  faw  them  continually  happen  on  every  fide 

*  of  me. 

*  Theodectus.     I  do  not  know,  if  they  were  drawn  by  a  fkilful 

*  hand,  whether  they  would  not  excite  our  feelings  too  ftrongly.  When 
'  I  take  my  examples  from  a  rank  much  fuperior  to  your  own,  I  leave 
'  you  the  liberty  of  applying  them  to  yourfelf,  and  at  the  fame  time  the 
'  hope  of  efcaping  their  confequences.'  Voyage  du  jeune  Ana- 
CHARsis,  Chap.  Lxxi.  Tom.  iv.  p.  32.  French  Ed.  4to. 

fc]  K«i  ToCf  OjU.«M)Uf  lA.f«U(r»  xa9'  wAmay,  x«t'  »)3>),  xafl'  t'^fir,  xaT*  oi^iuf/.oclx,  aald 
yivet'  £►  zraffi  yocp  TOUToif,  jumAXci/  (paniion  aat  ccutw  ecu  usrap^at"  L'Aw?  yxp  xx)  £v1«ii9« 
$i7  Xa^iTu,  oTi  h(roi  i(p  uijIuu  9t£jj^1«i,  roiVTCi  eV  uWuiv  yiyi/o/A£t«  eAfacro'.  Arist.  Rhet. 
L.  n.  Ch.  VII. 

[h]  See  note  J,  chap.  iv. 

The 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  245 

The  obfervations  as  to  the  equality  of  character,  extend  to  unnatural 
perfeftion  as  well  as  to  unnatural  deformity,  though  in  a  lefs  degree. 

If  a  charadler  is  drawn  compleatly  vicious,  it  is  impoffible  we  can  place 
ourfelves  fo  in  the  fituation,  as  to  bring  it  at  all  home  to  our  own  bofoms. 
We  cannot  intereft  ourfelves  in  the  fortune  of  a  perfon,  who  we  are  con- 
fcious  neither  refembles  ourfelves  nor  any  thing  elfe  in  nature,  or  pity 
misfortunes  which  at  once  are  the  confequence  and  punifhment  of  crimes 
we  abhor.  This  excefs  of  guilt  is  I  believe  feldom,  if  ever,  afligned  to  a 
principal  character,  but  it  is  fometimes  to  be  met  with  in  fubordinate 
ones:  Glenalvon  is  a  confummate  villain,  without  one  quality  to  foften 
our  indignation  and  difguft  ;  [i]  fince  his  brutal  courage,  folely  employed 
in  treachery  and  aflafiination,  only  ferves  to  encreafe  our  deteftation  of 
him. 

The  defecft  of  the  too  perfed  charadler  is  not  fo  obvious.  We  can 
indeed  at  once  fee  that  as  to  the  firfl  cafe,  the  want  of  interefl  on  ac- 
count of  fimilarity  of  manners  and  fituation,  the  confequence  is  nearly, 
if  not  exadlly  the  fame.  I  believe  Sir  Charles  Grandifon  is  much  lefs  a 
favorite  with  every  reader  than  Tom  Jones.  But  why  we  are  lefs  af- 
fedted  with  pity  by  the  fufFerings  of  a  perfed:  than  an  imperfedl  charafter, 
is  not  fo  clear.  For  if,  as  Ariftotle  fays,  pity  is  excited  by  misfortunes 
that  are  unmerited ;  this  muft  apply  mofl  ftrongly  to  a  charader  com- 
pletely virtuous  [k].     The  caufe  however  why  we  do  not  fympathife  fo 

[i]  See  note  i,  chap.  xv. 

[k]  In  the  pafTage  quoted  in  note  [g]  from  the  Rhetoric,  it  appears  that  the  paffions  of  pity  and 
terror,  as  laid  down  there  by  Ariftotle,  are  only  modifications  of  the  fame  paflion,  dillino-uiflied 
by  the  force  with  which  they  acS  on  our  own  feelings,  and  which  both  depend  on  the  refemblance 
of  the  condition  and  charadler  of  the  fuiFerer  to  thofe  cf  our  own. 

much 


246  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiii. 

much  with  the  fufferings  of  a  perfed;  as  an  imperfedt  charadter,  may 
perhaps  arife  from  this  circumftance.  The  refolution  in  misfortune,  the 
intrepidity  in  danger,  the  contempt  of  pain  and  death,  which  are  ahvays 
fliewn  in  a  great  and  heroic  charadter,  take  off  much  of  our  fenfe  of  his 
diflrefs.  We  may  revere,  we  may  wifli  to  emulate  fuch  a  charadler,  but 
we  cannot  feel  flrongly  for  a  perfon  who  difdains  to  feel  for  himfelf. 
[l]  When  Iphigenia  throws  herfelf  at  her  father's  feet,  and  by  the  moft 
tender  fupplications  requefls  him  to  fpare  her  life,  we  feel  the  ftrongeft 
jmpreffions  of  pity  ;  but  when  affuming  a  higher  refolution,  fhe  refolves 
to  devote  herfelf  for  the  glory  of  her  country,  we  venerate  the  heroine 
indeed,  but  our  tears  for  the  trembling  virgin  are  inflantly  dried.  The 
obfervation  of  Horace, 

[m]   '  To  make  me  grieve  be  firft  your  anguifli  fliewn, 

'  And  1  fliall  feel  your  forrows  like  my  own,'        Colman. 

is  as  applicable  to  the  poet's  imitation  of  the  charadter  as  the  adtor's 
performance  of  it.  There  is  a  juft  obfervation  in  the  Tatler  (No.  30) 
on  this  fingularity  of  feeling.  Speaking  of  two  rivals  who  were  killed 
at  the  battle  of  Almanza,   Steele  makes   this   remark  :     *   The  beloved 

*  lady  is  a  woman  of  a  fenfible  mind ;  but  flie  has  confelTed  to  me,  that 
'  after  all  her  true  and  folid  value  for  Conftant,  (ht  had  much  more 

*  concern   for   the   lofs    of  Carelefs.     Thefe  noble  and  ferious  fpirits 

*  have  fornething  equal  to  the  adverfities  they  meet  with,  and  confe- 

*  quently  leffen  the  objedts  of  pity.  Great  accidents  feem  not  cut  out 
'  fo  much  for  men  of  familiar  charadters,  which  makes  them  more  ealily 

*  pitied  and  foon  after  beloved.' 

[l]  In  the  Iphigenia  in  Aulis  of  Euripides.     See  note  vi.  chap,  xv, 

[m]  '  Si  vis  me  flere,  dolcndum  ell: 

'  Primum  ipfi  tibi.' 

NOTE 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  247 


NOTE      IV. 

THE  CHARACTER  THAT  REMAINS  IS  A  MEDIUM  BETWEEN  THESE: 
A  MAN  NEITHER  EMINENTLY  CONSPICUOUS  FOR  VIRTUE  AND 
JUSTICE,  NOR  REDUCED  TO  MISERY  BY  WICKEDNESS  AND 
VILLAINY;  BUT  RATHER  ONE  IN  HIGH  REPUTATION  AND 
PROSPERITY    SUFFERING    THROUGH    SOME    HUMAN    FRAILTY. 

THIS  choice  of  the  proper  chara6ler  for  tragedy  is  juftified  by  reafon 
and  experience.  The  critic  has  already  objedled  both  to  confummate 
virtue  and  confummate  vice.  The  perfon  he  has  now  feleded  partakes 
enough  of  the  firfl  to  intereft  us  in  his  favor,  and  of  the  laft  to  prevent 
our  indignation  and  difguft  at  his  fuiferings.  The  crime,  or  the  error, 
that  occafions  his  diftrefs,  fliould  not  be  brought  upon  him  in  confe- 
quence  of  a  good  adion,  (which  fometimes  happens  in  real  life)  or  be 
even  involuntary ;  neither  fhould  it  arife  from  radical  and  deliberate  vil- 
lainy, but  fhould  refult  froni  fome  violent  pafTion,  or  imprudent  action,  in. 
a  charadler  not  devoid  of  good  qualities,  though  by  no  means  perfedt. 

In  fuch  colors  has  Shakefpear  drawn  moil  of  his  principal  tragic 
charadlers.  Lear  without  radical  vice  is  rafla  and  choleric  j  Macbeth 
in  the  beginning  of  the  play,  exhibits  a  continued  flruggle  between 
honor  and  ambition  ;  Othello  afts  under  the  influence  of  an  ungovern- 
able paflion  ;  Richard  the  Third  appears  an  exception ;  and  if  we  mean 
to  reconcile  the  condud:  of  that  play  to  this  rule  of  Ariftotle,  we  muft  I 
think  adopt  an  excufe,  mentioned  indeed,  but  rejeded  by  M.  Leffinc> 

in 


248  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xrn. 

[n]  in  his  criticifm  on  a  German   tragedy  formed  on  the  fame  ilory. 

*  I  may  be  told,  perhaps  we  mud  give  up  Richard  :   the  piece  indeed 

*  bears  his  name,  but  he  is  not  for  that  reafon  the  hero  of  it,  nor  the 

*  charader  by  which   the  proper  effed:  of  tragedy  is  attained  :  he  can 

*  only  be  confidered  as  the  caufe  of  exciting  our  pity  for  others.     Are 

*  not  the  queen  and  the  princes  objedls  of  our  pity  ?'  The  objedion  he 
ftarts  to  this,  and  it  appears  a  jufl  one,  is  that  thefe  charadlers  are  as 
improper  from  their  innocence  as  Richard  is  from  his  guilt. 

The  King  Richard  of  Shakefpear  however  has  fo  many  ftrokes  of 
courage  and  dignity  in  his  charafter,  that  his  vices  are  fometimes  hidden 
by  them,  and  Cibber  has  even  made  his  rival  Richmond  bear  teftimony 
to  his  bravery  when  on  the  point  of  engaging  him  [o].  But  no 
fuch  circumftance  attended  the  Richard  of  the  German  poet,  who 
according  to  M.  LefTing,  '  is  [p]  fo  horrible  a  wretch,  a  devil  incar- 

*  nate  fo  wicked,  in  whom  it  is  fo  impoffible  for  us  to  find  the  fmalleft 

*  trait  of  refemblance  with  ourfelves,  that  I  think  we  could  fee  him 
'  fuffer  all  the  torments  of  hell  before  our  eyes  without  being  affedled  by 

*  it,  without  having  the  leafi:  fear,  that  if  fuch  punifhment  is  the  con- 
'  fequence  of  fuch  crimes  only,  it  can  ever  fall  upon  ourfelves.'  Dra- 
MATURGiE,  Part  II.  p.  35. 

[n]  Dramaturgic,  Part  11.  p.  36. 

[o]  '  Nor  fhould  tliy  prowefs  Richard  want  my  praife, 
'  But  that  thy  cruel  deeds  have  ftampt  thee  tyrant.' 

[p]  '  Un  drole  fi  horrible.'  If  the  French  tranflator  has  done  juftice  to  his  original  in  this 
expreffion,  the  German  Richard  mufl  have  been  totally  deficient  in  poetical  goodnefs,  taken 
in  the  feufc  in  which  1  conceive  it  ufed  by  Ariftotlein  chapter  xv.     See  note  i,  on  that  chapter. 

Modern 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  249 

Modern  manners  have  given  to  the  theatre  this  defideratumof  Ariftotlej 
the  ufiuflix  fjceyocXti,  the  great  frailty  as  it  is  excellently  cxprelTed 
by  Mr.  Twining,  which  is  capable  of  involving  a  chara<fi:er  in  the  deepeft 
and  moft  pathetic  diftrefs,  and  at  the  fame  time  fo  far  from  injuring  its 
moral  perfedions,  that  it  raifes  it  in  our  efleem  and  occafions  unmerited 
diftrefs,  without  exciting  either  indignation  or  difguft.  I  mean  the  paf- 
fion  of  love  j  that  grand  hinge  on  which  modern  fable,  narrative  as  well 
as  dramatic  generally,  I  had  almofl  faid  univerfally,  turns.  This  paffion 
is  to  be  found  in  ancient  fable,  but  without  the  fame  diftinouilhinp- 
chara(fter.  It  was  confidered  like  every  other  paffion  as  a  fource  of 
misfortune,  and  when  ungovernable  and  carried  to  excefs,  as  a  vice. 
But  in  modern  fable,  however  violent  in  its  effeds,  it  appears  to  ftamp 
merit  on  the  charafter  in  proportion  to  its  force. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  if  Mark  Antony  had  been  prior  to  Ariftotle 
he  would  have  conceived  him  as  a  very  bad  perfon  falling  from  happi- 
nefs  to  mifery  in  confequence  of  his  crimes,  and  confequently  no  pro- 
per fubjedt  for  a  tragic  flory.  But  the  magic  of  this  paffion,  drelTed  in 
the  garb  of  modern  gallantry,  has  changed  his  nature ;  and  the  inglo- 
rious death  of  an  abandoned  profligate  in  the  lap  of  floth  and  proftitution, 
becomes  the  glorious  facrifice  of  a  generous  hero  at  the  fhrine  of  dif- 
interefted  love.  Thomfon's  tragedy  of  Tancred  and  Sigifmunda  fur- 
niflies  another  inftancc  of  this  kind.  Old  SifFredi,  who  fills  the  office 
of  the  ancient  chorus,  though  throughout  the  piece  he  is  continually 
urging  Tancred  to  fiicrifice  his  paffion  to  his  duty,  in  his  concludinp- 
fpeech  inculcates  the  neceffity  of  indulging  the  paffions.  I  much  doubt 
if  fuch  fentiments  would  have  been  received  with  great  applaufe  by  an 
Athenian  audience. 

K  k  Love 


250  A  COiMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiir. 

Love  is  rather  more  confpicuous  among  the  Roman  poets ;  but  the 
principal  female  character  in  the  comedies  of  Terence  is  generally  a 
proftitute,  while  the  young  woman  of  virtue  is  reduced  to  the  fituation 
of  a  mute.  What  are  the  Citheris,  the  Cynthia,  the  Delia  and  the 
Nejera  of  Gallus  Propertius  and  Tibullus  [oj],  but  mercenary  harlots  I 

The  obfervation  of  Voltaire  on  the  paffion  of  love,  as  a  fubjedl  for  the 
drama,  feems  perfe(ftly  juft.  *  It  is,'  he  fays,  '  of  all  the  paffions  the 
'  moft;  theatrical,  the  moft  fertile  in  fentiments,  the  moft  varied.  It 
*  ought  to  be  the  foul  of  a  dramatic  piece,  or  be  entirely  banifhed  from 
'  from  it.'  Epistle  to  M.  Maffei  on  Merope.  What  Voltaire 
difcovered  through  art,  our  Shakefpear  produced  from  nature  near  two 
centuries  before.  The  paffion  of  love  is  no  where  more  the  entire 
fubjedl,  or  if  you  will  the  foul  of  the  drama,  than  in  Cymbeline  and  [r] 
Romeo  and  Juliet ;  but  he  has  introduced  no  infipid  love  tale  as  an  under 
plot  in  his  Macbeth,  his  Othello,  or  any  of  his  hiftorical  plays,  as 
Addifon  has  in  his  Cato,  and  Dryden  and  Corneille  have  in  the  tragedy 
of  CEdipus.     Shakefpear  however,  the  beft  mafter  of  general  nature, 

[qJ]  Hammond  in  his  Love  Elegies,  is  a  direct:  tranflator  of  Tibullus :  his  manners  are 
all  Roman.  He  abufes  his  miftrefles  for  their  venality,  and  talks  of  making  a  campaign,  not  as 
his  nobler  editor  fuggefts  to  forget  Nesra,  but  to  accumulate  money  to  fatisfy  her  avarice. 

'  And  I  through  vrar  muft  feek  detefted  gold, 

'  Not  for  myfelf,  but  for  my  venal  fair.'  Elegy  ii. 

I  believe  a  campaign  has  feldom  been  the  road  to  wealth  except  to  the  general  and  the  com- 
miflary. 

[r]  Of  this  laft  tragedy  Lefling  fays,  '  I  know  but  of  one  tragedy  to  which  love  has  put  his 
'  own  hand,  it  is  the  Romeo  and  Juliet  of  Shakefpear.'     Dramaturgie,  Part  i.  page  30. 

knew 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  251 

knew  that  love,  though  a  very  dramatic  paflion,  v^'as  not  the  only  one  ; 
and  many,  indeed  moft  of  his  tragedies  are  founded  on  others.  And  a 
French  critic  fays,  *  However  much  we  may  be  prejudiced  in  favor  of 

*  thofe  tragedies  whofe  intereft  turns  upon  love,  it  is  neverthelefs  true, 

*  (and  we  have  often  remarked  it,)  that  thofe  tragedies  which  have  fuc- 

*  ceeded  beft,  do  not  owe  their  fuccefs  to  the  love  fcenes.'  Letter 
FROM  Le  Pere  Tournemine  to  Le  Pere  Brumoy,  prefixed 
TO  Voltaire's  Merope.  Now  it  is  obfervable,  that  from  the  refto- 
ration  till  within  thefe  laft  five  and  twenty  years,  when  Garrick  had 
reformed  the  ftage  by  the  fchool  of  Shakefpear,  almofl  the  only  trage- 
dies which  do  not  depend  on  a  love  ftory  are  the  Ifabella  of  Southern, 
and  the  Venice  Preferved  of  Otway ;  and  to  the  great  interefl:  of  both, 
the  ftage  at  this  hour  bears  the  ftrongeft  teftimony.  To  Otway  indeed 
may  be  applied,  with  the  ftridleft  juftice,  the  charafter  given  by  our 
critic  to  Euripides  in  this  chapter,  *  that   if  he  does  not  condud:  his 

*  fable  fo  well  in  other  circumftances  he  is  allowed  to  be  the  moft  tragic 
^  of  our  poets.'  Indeed  what  but  the  deep  pathos  of  the  cataftrophe 
could  induce  a  refined  people  to  tolerate  fuch  a  compilation  of  inde- 
cency, impiety,  and  immorality,  as  the  Orphan  [r]. 

From  the  fecluded  life  of  modeft  women  in  [s]  Greece,  they  neither 
took  any  part  in  the  ferious  concerns  of  life,  out  of  their  own  family,  nor 
could  they  be  prefent  at  any  public  fpeclacle,  therefore  they  were  not  in 

[a]  '  The  famous  Orphan  of  Otway,  notwithftanding  its  real  beauties,  could  hardly  have 

*  taken  fo  prodigioufly  as  it  hath  done  if  there  were  not  fomewhere  a  defect  of  good  fenfe  as 

*  well  as  of  good  morals.'  Bishop  of  Worcester's  note  on  Horace's  Art  of 
Poetry,  v.  ig.     See  alfo  Note  i.  Chap.  xv. 

|s]  See  Note  ii.  ibid, 

K  k  2  reality 


252  A  COxMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiii. 

reality  principal  objeds  for  the  drama,  which  turned  chiefly  on  public 
adions ;  nor  was  the  theatre  interefted  in  obtaining  their  fuffrages,  by 
feleding  tbof.  flories  in  which  they  might  take  a  confpicuous  part. 
The  revival  of  the  arts  found  women  in  a  very  different  fituation ;  in 
real  life  they  were  in  high  confideration,  and  in  the  regions  of  narrative 
fable  they  were,  as  they  continue  to  be,  every  thing. 

'  Their  bright  eyes 

*  Rain'd  influence  and  judg'd  the  prize 

*  Of  wit  and  arms,  while  both  contend 

*  To  win  her  grace  whom  all  commend.' 

We  have  therefore  rather  caufe  to  wonder  at  their  not  afTuming  the 
fame  univerfil  empire  over  the  earlier  modern  drama,  and  that  our  firft 
writers,  and  even  Shakefpear,  have  reprefented  them  adtuated  by  ambi- 
tion as  often  as  by  love,  and  as  mothers,  wives,  and  daughters,  rather 
than  as  miftreffes.  But  on  confidering  that  all  womens  parts  were  played 
by  men  before  the  civil  wars,  our  wonder  will  ceafe,  and  we  are  rather 
inclined  to  think  that  very  paflionate  love  fcenes,  like  fome  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  muft  be  more  difguftful  than  pleafing[T]. 

After 

[t]  Befides  the  efFe£t  on  the  audience  it  muft  greatly  influeace  the  fenfibility  of  the  adtor, 
on  whofe  feelings  the  true  expreflion  of  the  paflion,  and  confequently  the  feelings  of  the  fpec- 
tator  muft  greatly  depend,  and  thefe  will  be  affefted  by  a  much  fmalLr  incongruity.  To 
cite  the  words  of  a  writer  very  well  informed  as  to  dramatic  effedl,  (Hill's  A£tor,  chap,  xv.) 
'  As  love  can  neither  be  concealed  nor  diflembled  in  real  life  before  eyes  that  have  any  de- 
'  gree  of  difcernment,  fo  on  the  ftage  that  illufion  which  is  the  foul  of  all  theatrical  reprcfen - 

*  tations  will  never  be  well  kept  up  in  a  love  fcene  unlefs  the  perfons  who  perform  tlie  cha- 

*  rafters  have  hearts  naturally  fufceptible  of  the  paffion ;  and  we  fhall  then  fee  it  in  the 

*  greateft  perfediion  when  thofe  who  are  to  proteft,  and  figh,  and  vow  to  one  another  on  the 

*  flage  in  reality  figh  and  doat  on  one  another  ofF.  We  can  remember  two  perfons  who  tliough 

*  they 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE. 


^53 


After  the  refloration,  when  the  theatre  acquired  its  L\{i  and  brighteft 
ornament,  the  addition  of  beautiful  and  elegant  female  performers,  love 
reigned  unrivalled  in  the  drama ;  and  from  that  period  for  many  years, 
except  the  tragedies  juft  mentioned,  no  new  drama  was  exhibited  without 
a  love  tale  either  principal  or  fubordinate.  Of  late  years,  as  we  have  be- 
fore obferved,  the  ftage  has  been  taking  a  different  turn.  We  have  feea 
Douglas,  the  Grecian  Daughter,  and  other  tragedies  of  the  fame  nature, 
brought  forward  with  applaufe  fuitable  to  their  merit.  And  this  com- 
plexion of  our  drama  feems  to  be  encreafi ng.  The  peculiar  abilities  of 
a  juftly  celebrated  aftrefs  for  the  reprefentation  of  matrons,  though 
excellent  in  all  parts,  has  occafioned  love  in  almofi:  every  new  tra^-edy 
to  give  place  to  conjugal  and  maternal  affcdtion  ;  indeed,  fo  much  has 
the  latter  got  pofleffion  of  the  theatre,  that  the  introdudion  of  a  nurfery 
is  become  almoft  a  hacknied  flage  trick. 

*  they  had  both  great  merit  as  players,  and  had  neither  any  thing  of  that  diflblute  life  too  fre- 
'  quent  among  thofe  of  their  profeffion,  yet  when  they  were  to  be  lovers  on  the  ftage  never 
'  played  naturally.     It  will  be  feen  that  I  have  in  my  eye  Mr.  and  Mrs. .     Happy  as 

*  they  were  in  one  another  the  flat  poffeflion  put  an  end  to  tranfport ;  and  though  perhaps  en- 

*  joying  fomething  much  worthier  and  better  they  could  not  diffemble  that.     We  may  on  the 

*  other  hand  recollect  inftances,  (but  I  fhall  not  name  the  perfons)  where  thofe  who  were 
<  pretended  lovers  on  the  ftage  were  real  lovers  ofF  it,  and  we  never  faw  char-iSers  performed 

*  in  fuch  perfedion.'  See  Note  viii.  Chap.  xv.  and  Note  ii.  Ch;ip.  xi.  and  Note  ii,. 
Chap.  XVII.  as  alfo  the  note  immediately  preceding  this. 


NOTE 


254  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiii. 


NOTE      V. 


OEDIPUS    AND    THYESTES. 


METASTASIO  is  much  dilTatisfied  with  both  thefe  examples.  He 
maintains  that  Thyefles  is  a  charadler  entirely  vicious  ;  and  that  CEdipus, 
to  ufe  his  own  words,   *  is  a  man  of  fo  fublime  and  pure  a  virtue,  that 

*  to  avoid  the  riik  of  becoming,  as  the  oracle  had  menaced,  inceftuous 
'  and  a  parricide,  he   quits  what  he  believes  to  be  his  paternal  houfe, 

*  hazards  the  fucceffion  of  a  crown,  and  goes  alone  and  voluntarily  into 

*  exile.     He  is  a  man  of  fuch  exalted  courage,  that  being  attacked  and 

*  infulted  by  a  multitude  of  perfons,  inflead  of  flying  he  valiantly  de- 

*  fends  himfelf  though  alone,  kills  one,  wounds  another,  and  difperfes 

*  the  reft.'     Estratto  della  Poetica,  page  259. 

To  this  eulogy  on  CEdipus  we  may  oppofe  the  reafoning  of  Batteux. 

*  It  was  in  his  power  to  avoid  his  crime  and  his  misfortune,  although 

*  foretold  by  an  oracle.     This  was  the  common  belief  of  all  Greece  [u]. 

*  Laius  believed  that  by  deftroying  his  fon  he  Iliould  avoid  his  deftiny ; 

*  CEdipus  believed  that  by  flying  from  Corinth,  where  he  thought  his 

*  father  and  mother  then  lived,  he  flaould  avoid  the  fatal  difafl:er  with 

[u]  I  think  this  aflertion  wants  foundation.  Laius  and  CEdipus  believed  they  could  avoid 
their  deftiny,  but  the  event  of  the  fable  fhews  the  contrary  was  the  received  opinion  of  the  time. 
The  fame  may  be  faid  of  Aftyagcs  and  Cyrus,  and  Croefus  and  Atys,  in  Herodotus.  There 
are  a  thoufand  flories  modern  as  well  as  ancient  of  attempts  to  avoid  foretold  evil,  but  they 
are  always  ui.fuccefsful.  The  apologue  attributed  to  JEkp,  of  the  young  man  who  is  killed  by 
ftrJking  at  the  picture  of  a  lion,  is  intended  to  enforce  the  impoffibility  of  avoiding  our  deftiny. 

*  which 


Note  v.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  255 

*  which  he  was  threatened.     Admoniflied  as  he  was   by  the  oracle, 

*  fliould  he  have  thought  it  fufficient  to  fly  from  Corinth  ?    Should  not 
'  he  have  refpedled  the  age  of  every  man  who  was  of  a  time  in  Ufe  to 

*  be  his  father  ?   Should  not  he  have  been  afraid  of  marrying  any  woman 

*  of  an  age  to  be  his  mother  ?     So  far  from  taking  this  precaution,  he 

*  no  fooner  leaves  Delphi  than  he  kills  the  firft  man  he  meets,  which 

*  happens  to  be  his  father  Laius  ;  he  arrives  at  Thebes ;  he  triumphs 

*  over  the  Sphynx  -,  elated  with   his  vidlory,  and  the  offer  of  a  crown, 

*  he  marries  a  woman  who  evidently  might  be  his  mother,  fince  flie 

*  adlually  was  fo.     His  unhappinefs  therefore,  was  obvioufly  the  fruit 

*  of  his  imprudence  and  his  paflions,  and  might  ferve  for  an  example  to 

*  all  the  Greeks.' 

To  this  it  may  be  added,  that  the  caufe  of  CEdipus  confulting  the 
oracle  was  a  doubt  concerning  his  being  the  offspring  of  his  fuppofed 
parents  Polybius  and  Merope.  Befides,  we  are  to  take  the  manners  of 
CEdipus  from  the  pidlure  of  him  drawn  by  Sophocles,  and  he  has  evi- 
dently drawn  him  as  a  moft  violent  and  inconfiftent  characfter.  In  a 
fcene  between  him  and  Jocafta,  where  flie  defcribes  the  manner  of  the 
death  of  Laius,  he  is  inftantly  flruck  by  the  circumftance,  and  precipi- 
tately condemns  himfelf,  though  Jocafla  tries  to  confole  him  ;  but  in  a 
fubfequent  fcene,  when  Jocafta  herfelf  is  convinced,  and  endeavours  to 
diffuade  him  from  further  enquiry,  he  is  obflinately  rcfolved  to  fee  the 
fhepherd,  and  inftead  of  dreading  the  fatal  difcovery  is  in  a  rage  from 
the  fufpicion  of  a  defign  to  reprefent  him  as  a  man  of  obfcure  birth. 

The  lafl  fpeech  of  CEdipus  before  the  entrance  of  Phorbas  has  a 
ftrong  tendency  to  lelTen  our  concern  for  his  own  horrid  fituation,  and  to 
encreafe  it  for  that  of  Jocafla.  The  chorus  having  exprelTed  a  dread  of  the 

effeifts 


256  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiii. 

elFeds  of  the  deep  and  filent  grief  fliewn  by  the  queen  on  her  going 
out,  CEdipus  repUes : 

[w]  *  Burfl  as  it  will  j — how  mean  foe'er  my  line, 

*  I  am  refolv'd  to  t  ace  it  home. — Perhaps, 

*  (Such  is  t  e  p  i'-e  of  v  oman,)  flie  difdains 

*  My  humble  birth. — The  child  of  fortune,  I— 

*  Bleft  in  HER  fmile,  fuch  groundlefs  fcorn  defpife. — 

*  Her  care  maternal;  and  the  kindred  months 

*  With  gradual  courfe  from  life's  inferior  fcenes 

'  Have  rais'd  me  up  to  greatnefs  :  for  my  lineage, 

*  Whate'er  it  be,  enquiry  cannot  change  it.' 

There  are  fome  ftrokes  in  the  foliloquy  of  the  Baftard  in  King  Lear 
not  unlike  part  of  this  fpeech ;  and  perhaps  the  reader  will  trace  fome 
refemblance  between  one  paflage  in  it,  and  a  refledtioa  of  Macbeth. 

*  Come  what,  come  may, 

*  Time  and  the  hour  run  thro'  the  roughefl;  day.' 

K  £1  (rfxiKpcu  Jri  (T-rriff/.\  ^h7\l  SouA?)(ro^«t. 
^AvTn  S'  tiTUc,    (^fpoi/ii  yo'.p  yjir,  fjiiyxA 

'Eyw  <?'  ([xavloD  zr<x~$x  -r?!?  Tuj^»)f  vijAUv, 
T>?i  £u  SiSi<Ty\c,  ovx  clriy.x<r^n<roiJi,!xi, 
T-/iq  yap  ■sritpxju.a,  /jt-rtTpc;'  01  SI  (Tvyfiuli; 
MrtvH  (J-(  lJi.iy.p'j]/  v.xi  fj.iyxt/  Siupitxv. 
Tcis;  $i  i'  tic^uf  ovK  kv  f^sAfioijU,',  eti 
YI'jt'  kAAoj,  ui'i  [J.yi  y.'  ixaiiTv  t'k^ov  yt'njj. 

As 


Note  VI.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  257 

As  to  Thyeftes,  thofe  who  are  determined  never  to  find  Ariftotle  and 
the  Greeks  in  the  wrong,  may  at  leafl  allow  him  to  be  as  good  a  cha- 
rafter  as  Richard  the  Third.  Though  to  fpeak  candidly,  I  rather  think 
them  both  exceptions  to  the  rule  laid  down  by  Ariflotle  than  examples' 
to  illuftrate  it. 


NOTE      VI. 

NOW,     THE    SUBJECTS    OF     THE     BEST    TRAGEDIES    ARE    TAKEN 

FROM    A    FEW    FAMILIES. 

IN  the  time  of  Ariftotle,  the  walk  both  of  hiftory  and  fable  was 
confined  within  very  narrow  limits,  [x]  The  tranladlions  of  Greece  and 
Perfia  were  the  principal,  and  indeed  the  only  objedls  of  hiftory  properly 
fo  called,  for  that  part  of  the  works  of  Herodotus  which  does  not  relate  to 
thofe  countries,  is  rather  the  compilation  of  the  traveller  than  the  nar- 
ration of  the  regular  hiftorian  ;  and  fable  was  confined  to  the  Grecian 
mythology.  Our  dramatic  field  is  greatly  enlarged.  Befides  polTefling 
almoft  every  ftory  proper  for  the  drama  which  was  known  when  Arifiotle 
wrote,  we  have  the  additional  advantage  of  events  drawn  from  the 
annals  of  more  than  twenty  fucceeding  centuries,  with  all  the  variety  of 
incident  and  manners  that  muft  arife  from  the  adventures,  the  cufloms, 
and  prejudices  of  different  ages,  governments  and  climates,  and  all  the 
combinations  that  memory  and  imagination  have  been  able  to  form  out 
of  fuch  an  immenfe  mafs  of  matter.  *  It  is  true,'  as  Bofiu  obilrves, 
*  that  the  ancients  could  not  forefee  what  would  happen  after  them : 

[x]  See  Note  iv.  Chap.  ix. 

LI  *  but 


258  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.xiii. 

*  but  he,  (Boflu)  who  had  the  advantage  of  feeing  it,  might  have  em- 

*  ployed  it  to  fhev*^  the  pofTibility  of  compofing  poems  that  vi^ould  pofTefs 

*  more  incident,  more  ftriking  fituations,  more  manners,  more  pictures 

*  of  human  aftions ;  in  fine,  more  examples  of  every  kind  than  can  be 

*  found  in  the  ancient  poets.'  Terrasson  on  the  Iliad.  Perhaps 
there  is  fomething  a  little  invidious  in  this  obfervation  j  for  the  chief 
object  of  TerrafTon  feems  to  be  the  depreciation  of  Homer.  That 
Homer  from  the  fcanty  materials  he  pofTefled  fhould  have  been  able  to 
form  works  containing  fuch  vaft  variety  of  incident  and  manners,  as  the 
Iliad  and  the  OdyfTey,  and  that  Ariftotle  from  his  writings,  and  their 
copiers  the  tragic  poets,  fliould  have  been  able  to  deduce  rules  fo  gene- 
rally applicable  to  the  nature  of  imitative  compofition  even  at  the  pre- 
fent  day,  mufl  excite  at  once  our  wonder  and  veneration.  Neverthelefs 
though  the  general  precepts  are  fo  perfectly  juft,  as  being  founded  on 
truth  and  nature,  it  is  impuffible  they  can  flridly  apply  to  all  the  variety 
of  fubjcdls  which  have  enlarged  the  fphere  of  epic  and  dramatic  fable  in 
the  courfe  of  fucceeding  ages.  We  may  trace  in  the  inftitutions  of 
Alfred  the  great  outline  of  the  Britifh  conftitution,  and  find  thofe  ftriking 
canons  of  polity  and  freedom  which  the  accumulated  wifdom  of  centu- 
ries has  never  attempted,  and  I  truft  never  will  attempt  to  alter  or 
amend  ;  for  in  politics  as  well  as  poetics,  all  alteration  of  excellence  is 
corruption.  But  at  the  fame  time  that  we  allow  this,  wc  cannot  expedl 
to  find  in  a  code  of  laws  framed  for  a  rude  people,  and  comparatively 
a  circumfcribed  dominion,  every  regulation  neceffary  for  the  government 
of  a  powerful  and  commercial  empire,  and  its  refined  and  luxurious  in- 
habitants. 


NOTE 


Note  vrr.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  259 


NOTE      VII. 

THE  SECOND  FORM,  WHICH  IS  ESTEEMED  THE  FIRST  BY  SOME, 
IS  THAT  WHICH  HAS  A  DOUBLE  COMPOSITION  LIKE  THE 
ODYSSEY  ;  HAVING  A  DIFFERENT  CATASTROPHE  FOR  THE 
VIRTUOUS  AND  VICIOUS.  THIS  FORM  APPEARS  TO  BE  THE 
FIRST,  FROM  THE  WEAKNESS  OF  THE  SPECTATORS,  WHICH 
THE  POETS  ARE  INDUCED  TO  FOLLOW,  AND  COMPOSE  THEIR 
PLAYS    TO    GRATIFY    THE    FEELINGS    OF    THE    AUDIENCE. 

WHY  it  fliould  be  the  duty  of  a  poet  not  to  gratify  the  feelings  of 
his  audience,  or  why  it  fliould  be  a  weaknefs  in  the  audience  to  wilh  to 
fee  virtue  rewarded  and  vice  puniflied  in  the  cataftrophe,  provided  the 
paffions  of  pity  and  terror  have  been  ftrongly  excited  during  the  courfe 
of  the  drama,  is  I  confefs  totally  beyond  my  comprehenfion.  If  the 
principal  perfon  of  the  piece,  on  our  interefl  for  whom  the  general  in- 
tereft  of  the  drama  muft  depend,  is  to  be  fliewn  as  falling  from  happi- 
nefs  to  mifery,  through  fome  great  frailty,  fliort  of  any  fpeci^s  of  guilt 
that  fliall  fink  him  in  our  efteem,  and  is  to  be  reprefented  happy  till 
the  cataftrophe  of  the  piece,  in  the  cataftrophe  only  will  the  tragic 
impreflion  be  made.  Or  if  the  diftrefs  begin  with  the  drama,  and  gradu- 
ally increafe  till  the  fatal  cataftrophe,  the  peripetia  or  fudden  revolution 
of  fortune  will  be  wanting.  It  is  impoffible  however  to  reduce  to  rules 
that  which  can  be  only  tri^d  by  the  criterion  of  our  feelings ;  and  from 
the  paflage.  before  us  it  is  obvious  that  the  feelings  of  the  Athenians 

L  I  2  were 


26o  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap,  xin, 

were  in  oppofition  to  the  opinion  of  the  Stagirite  j  and  from  a  former 
part  of  the  chapter  it  is  equally  clear  that  Euripides  had  been  cenfured 
by  his  countrymen  for  forming  his  tragedies  on  the  plan  afterwards  ap- 
proved by  Ariftotle,  though  many  of  his  tragedies,  efpecially  his  x\lceftes, 
his  [y]  Iphigenia  in  Tauris,  and  his  Ion,  befides  the  Crefphontes,  which 
will  be  particularly  noticed  in  a  note  on  the  next  chapter,  are  written 
in  the  popular  form.  Whatever  might  be  Ariftotle's  motive  for  oppofing 
the  general  tafte  of  Athens  in  this  particular,  it  flill  lefs  applies  to  the 
modern  drama.  However  elegant  the  tafte  of  the  ancients  may  have 
been,  it  is  I  think  fufficiently  obvious  from  all  the  claffical  writers  that 
they  were  not  fo  much  alive  to  the  feelings  of  fenfibility  as  the  moderns. 
We  find  few  of  thofe  nice  touches  which  mark  the  delicacy  of  the  fenfa- 
tions,  and  which  intereft  more  than  the  ftrongeft  pi<ftures  of  diftrefs. 
The  only  ftriking  inftances  I  recoiled:  of  this  kind,  are  the  account  of 
the  behaviour  and  words  of  Alceftes  when  fhe  fuppofes  herfelf  dying,  ia 
Euripides  ;  and  the  elegant  compliment  of  the  wife  of  Tigranes  to  her 
hufband,  and  the  pathetic  tale  of  Abradatas  and  Panthea  in  Xenophon's 
Cyropasdia* 

Neither  did  the  Greek  tragedy  poflefs  the  power  which  the  modern 
jftage  does  of  exciting  pity  and  terror  during  the  courfe  of  the  acflion 
from  nice  and  pathetic  touches  of  paffion  and  manners.  Their  theatre 
was  not  calculated  for  affefting  fituation ;  and  therefore  if  the  incidents 
themfelves  were  not  ftrikingly  dreadful,  little  intereft  could  be  excited. 
Ariftotle  himfelf  in  the  beginning  of  the  next  chapter,  mentions  the 

[y]  In  the  Iphigenia  in  Aulis,  after  the  death  of  Iphigenia  appears  inevitable,  flie  is  faved 
by  a  machine,  contrary  to  all  probability  as  well  as  in  oppofition  to  the  received  fable.  See 
the  eleventh  Pytliian  Ode  of  Pindar,  and  the  Agamemnon  of  ^fchylus, 

repre- 


Note  vrr.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  561 

reprefentation  and  the  combination  of  the  incidents  as  the  only  means 
of  exciting  pity  and  terror  :  if  therefore  that  reprefentation  and  that 
combination  were  not  very  ftriking,  they  could  have  but  little  efFedl  on 
a  theatre,  whofe  apparatus  w^as  fo  ill  calculated  to  conceal  the  means  of 
imitation,  [z]  For,  after  all  that  has  been  faid  of  the  dramatic  proba- 
bility of  the  ancient  tragedy,  encumbered  as  it  was  with  its  chorus, 
its  exaggerated  and  unnatural  recitation  [a],  its  enormous  malks  and 
ftilts  as  defcribed  by  Julius  Pollux  and  Lucian ;  its  frequent  inftances  of 
buffoonery,  not  put,  like  the  fmiilar  paffages  in  Shakefpear  into  the 
mouth  of  fervants  and  clowns,  but  uttered  by  heroes  and  kings,  and 
blended  with  the  moft  ferious  parts  of  the  drama,  we  may  furely  fay 
with  Mr.  Twining  [b],  that  the  Greek  tragedy  was  in  *  many  refpefts 

*  a  fimple,  unequal,  imperfedl  thing.' 

[c]  The  modern  theatre  is  very  different  j  the  means  of  Imitation 
are  lefs  obvious  and  more  natural,  and  the  illufion  much  more  complete. 
And  befides  it  enters  more  into  the  detail  both  of  paffion  and  fentiment, 
and  confequently  has  a  variety  of  modes  of  affe(51:ing  the  feelings  which 

[z]  See  Note  ii.  Chap.  v.  and  Note  ii.  Chap.  vi. 

[a]  *  An  enraged  grenadier,  with  a  fabre  in  his  hand,  is  undoubtedly  aii  objedt  of  terror 

*  and  alarm ;  but  if  to  make  himfelf  taller  he  mounts  upon  ftilts ;  if  in  order  to  feem  more 

*  enraged  he  covers  his  face  with  an  illumined  made,  he  will  then  become  a  fcare-crow,  and 

*  frighten  children  only  ;  his  enormous  fl:rides  will  but  ferve  to  render  him  the  more  ridiculous 

*  to  the  rational  fpedator.'     Linguet  on  Voltaire's  Tragedies. 

[b]  See  Note  215  near  the  end.  This  is  faid  only  as  to  dramatic  efFeft..  The  fpedacle 
was  undoubtedly  moft  magnificent. 

[c]  See  Note  i.  Chap,  iv^ 

were. 


262  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiii. 

were  denied  to  the  ancients.     *  In  the  drama  of  the  Greeks  we  may 

*  fee  indeed  the  flrongeft  colors,   but  they  are  diftindl,  neither  foftened 

*  by  refledtion  or  melted  into  each  other  j  while  in  the  modern  drama 

*  we  fee  a  thoufand  combinations  which  far  from  weakening  the  pidlure 

*  only  ferve  to  render  it  more  lively,  more  various,  and  more  interefting.' 
Marmontel. 

The  impreflion  of  the  paflions  of  pity  [d]  and  terror  on  the  mind  as 
to  their  ftrength,  will  be  influenced  like  eveiy  other  impreflion  corporal 

as 

[d]  How  much  we  are  influenced  by  particular  circumftances  and  fituations,  as  to  afFeding 
impreflions  every  one  who  confults  his  own  feelings,  or  ftudies  the  feelings  of  others,  will  be  foqn 
convinced.  To  take  a  very  familiar  inftance  from  the  popular  amufement  of  fporting :  many 
a  man  who  during  the  enthufiafm  of  the  chace,  will  look  on  the  death  of  a  deer  or  a  hare  not 
only  with  unconcern  but  with  pleafure,  would  feel  a  real  pain  at  feeing  a  lamb  flaughtered 
by  a  butcher,  or  will  kill  a  pheafant  or  a  partridge  with  his  gun  for  his  diverilon,  when  he 
muft  be  ftrongly  prefled  by  hunger  indeed  before  he  would  flrangle  a  fowl  with  his  hands. 
To  thofe  who  like  to  judge  rather  by  others  fenfations  than  their  own,  and  think  experiment 
inferior  to  clafiical  authority,  a  quotation  from  Xenophon  and  Arrian  on  this  fubjeiS  may  have 
weight.     Xenophon  fpeaking  of  the  hare-chace  fays,  '  This  animal  is  fo  pleafmg  that  who- 

*  ever  fees  it  either  trailed,  or  found,  or  purfued,  or  taken,  forgets  every  thing  elfe  that  he 
'  is  moft  attached  to.'  To  all  this  Arrian  aflents  in  his  Treatife  on  Courfmg  except  the 
taking  of  the  hare,  which  he  fays  '  is  neither  a  pleafmg  nor  a  flriking  fight,  but  rather  dif- 
'  gufting.'  The  difference  of  opinion  in  Xenophon,  Arrian  fuppofes  to  arife  from  his  being 
ignorant  of  the  ufe  of  greyhounds.  Undoubtedly  the  corporal  fufFerings  of  the  hare  are  more 
obvious  to  the  courfer  than  the  hunter.  -Mr.  Somerville  in  his  Chace,  where  certainly  it  is 
not  his  purpofe  to  diminifh  the  enthufiafm  of  the  fport,  has  chofen  to  mention  a  very  improper 
circumftance,  and  which  tends  ilrongly  to  do  it,  in  his  defcription  of  the  death  of  the  hare. 

'  Till  round  inclos'd 

'  By  all  the  greedy  pack,  with  infant  fcreams 

*  She  yields  her  breath.' 

Thomfon 


Note  vir.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  263 

as  well  as  mental,  both  by  tlae  force  of  the  ftroke  and  the  fenfibility  of 
the  objedt  ftruck.  If  then  the  moderns  pofTcfs  more  fenfibility,  and  at 
the  fame  time  their  theatrical  imitation  not  only  exc.cds  the  ancient  in 
truth  of  reprefentation,  but  enters  more  into  affeding  detail,  it  may 
produce  that  kind  of  illufion  which  fhall  be  fo  ftrong  as,  on  painful  fub- 
jed:s,  to  produce  the  paffions  of  pity  and  terror  unailayed  by  the  fenfa- 
tion  of  any  attendant  pleafure.  In  this  cafe  furely  Ariftotle  would  not 
condemn  a  poet  for  foftening  the  pathos  of  the  dramatic  flory  in  com- 
pliance with  the  feelings  of  his  audience,  fince  in  the  pafTage  quoted 
from  his  Treatife  on  Government  he  mentions  [e]  pleafure  as  a  neceffary 
concomitant  of  the  purgation  of  the  paffions  by  the  imitative  arts. 

Here  however  an  objeftion  may  poffibly  occur.  Ariftotle  indeed  tells 
us,  that  the  Athenians  were  beft  pleafed  with  the  happy  cataflrophe 
ending  differently  to  the  good  and  the  bad;  or  in  other  words,  with  what  is 
or  rather  has  been  ufually  called  poetical  justice.     But  how  fhall  we 

Thomfon  not  only  cenfures  hunting  as  a  cruel  diverfion,  but  even  blames  the  ufe  of  animal 
food.  Angling  however,  he  praifes  as  a  delightful  amufement.  Even  there  be  feels  for  the  worm. 
But  he  fpeaks  with  all  the  complacency  imaginable  of  «  fixing  with  gentle  twitch  the  barbed 
'  hook'  in  the  mouth  of  the  fifh.  The  early  inftrudtors  of  youth  are  now  very  careful  ia 
preventing  them  from  tormenting  animals,  and  it  is  a  very  proper  care ;  but  at  the  fame  time 
it  oftener  originates  from  miftaken  fondnefs  than  cruelty.  If  the  fly-killing  anecdote  of 
Domitian  be  true,  I  think  it  rather  a  proof  of  his  want  of  rational  refources  of  amufement 
than  a  fpecimen  of  the  natural  barbarity  of  his  difpofition. 

Te]  Kai  z3-a(7i  yiytiKT^Oii  Ti^a  JtaSa'f t(v,  koci  y.io(pt^eiT^xi  /m^  jjiJ^onif.  See  Note  I. 
Chap.  VI.  That  the  primary  objeci  of  poetry  is  to  pleafe  was  the  opinion  alfo  of  Eraftofthenes, 
another  ancient  philofopher,  who  fays,  -moiviTov  ztxhtx  roj^a'^£0"6fl!t  t|/ii;^ayoyi'ai?  Iv  SiSa-fr- 
Kuhixg.  '  The  poet  efFefts  all  his  purpofes  by  interefting  us  not  by  inftruSino-  us.'  See 
the  beginning  of  the  bifliop  of  Worcefter's  EfTay  on  the  Idea  of  Univerfal  Poetry. 

account 


2^4  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiii. 

account  for  what  has  been  faid  in  favor  of  the  oppofite  condudl  of  the 
tragic  drama  among  ourfelves  ?  The  anfwer  to  this  objedion  appears  fuffi- 
ciently  obvious  [f].  People  are  very  apt  to  think  they  Hke  what  they  ought 
to  like.  How  far  this  decifion  of  Ariflotle  might  change  the  tafte,  or 
rather  the  fafliion  of  Athens  in  this  cafe,  we  have  no  opportunity  of 
knowing ;  but  that  it  has  influenced,  affifted  by  the  critical  decifions  of 
Addifon  and  others,  the  opinion  of  many  of  the  people  of  London, 
though  perhaps  not  their  real  tafle,  is  certain.  Mr.  Addifon  and  his 
colleagues  in  the  compofition  of  the  Tatlers  and  Spectators,  have  been 
at  great  pains  to  difleminate  and  enforce  this  dodlrine  of  Anflotle,  to  the 
entire  conviction  of  fuch  of  his  readers  as  chofe  rather  to  judge  of  their 
feelings  from  the  authority  of  philofophers  and  critics  than  their  own 
fenfations.  See  Speftator,  No.  40,  and  Tatler,  No.  82.  The  lafl: 
m.entioned  paper  is  by  the  later  editors  attributed  to  Steele  [g],  but  the 

dodlrine 

[t]  The  father  of  Englifh  poetry  makes  no  bad  diftindion  between  the  decifion  of  pedantry 
and  nature  in  putting  tlie  commendation  of  the  fyftem  of  Ariftotle  in  the  mouth  of  the  monk, 
ajid  giving  the  other  opinion  to  the  knight  and  the  hoft.  See  the  quotation  from  Chaucer's 
Canterbury  Tales  by  Mr.  Twining,  Note  100.  See  alfo  Beattie  on  Imagination,  Chap.  v. 
page  202. 

fc]  In  one  of  thefe  tales  which  I  do  not  quote  as  they  arc  in  every  one's  hands, 
we  can  hardly,  on  reflection,  pity  the  man  whofe  misfortune  is  brought  on  by  fo  abfard 
an  a(St  as  the  pulling  the  trigger  of  a  fire  arm  at  a  woman,  even  with  a  certainty  of 
its  being  unlo.ded,  which  was  not  the  cafe.  A  great  frailty  may  be  a  proper  foundation 
f,)r  tragic  diftrefs,  but  I  doubt  if  a  great  folly  is.  As  to  the  other  ftory  which  Gay 
has  made  the  groundwork  of  a  very  popular  ballad,  the  event  on  which  it  turns  is  barely 
poflible  but  very  improbable,  and  therefore  unfit  for  poetry.  I  have  heard  of  an  event 
as  extraordinary,  though  direiSily  oppofite  in  the  cataftrophe,  from  an  eye  witnefs  whofe 
veracity  I  can  depend  on,  which  though  on  the  fame  ground  unfit  for  fable,  thofe  of  my  readers 
who  think  as  I  do  on  the  fubjeft  will  forgive  me  for  relating.  My  friend  was  at  one  of  the 
fmall  bathing  towns  on  the  fouthern  coaft  of  England,  I  believe  Teignmouth,  when  the  Royal 
George  was  loft  at  Spithcad.     He  was  in  the  flreet  when  the  account  came.     A  poor  woman 

in 


Note  vii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  265 

dodrine  as  to  poetical  juftice,  and  the  weaknefs  of  the  audience,  is 
exadlly  correfpondent  with  that  of  Addifon  in  the  Spedator,  and  this 
dodrine  is  fupported  by  the  introdu6tion  of  two  as  fhocking  tales  as  a 
gloomy  imagination  ever  invented,  or  the  accidental  occurrence  of  dif- 
trefsful  incidents  adlually  occafioned.  In  this  country,  however,  the 
authority  of  a  dicftator  even  in  matters  of  tafte  will  never  be  admitted, 
an  appeal  lies  to  the  people,  and  their  decree  has  reverfed  this  didlatorial 
edidl.  [h]  The  tragedy  of  King  Lear  has  always  ended  with  the  happi- 
nefs  of  Cordelia  and  the  reftoration  of  the  old  monarch,  from  the  firfl 
alteration  of  it  by  Tate.     Indeed  Addifon  himfelf  was  too  good  a  whig 

in  all  the  agony  of  maternal  grief  exclaimed,  I  had  a  fon  on  board.     A  man  at  the  inftant 
was  riding  down  the  ftreet.     It  was  that  fon  who  had  got  leave  of  abfence,  and  had  left  the 

fhip  the  day  before  the  accident. 

lb 

In  No.  117  of  the  Tatler,  a  doftrine  diametrically  oppofite  is  held.  '  Inventions  of  this 
'  kind  (ending  happily)  '  are  the  food  and  exercife  of  a  good-natured  difpofition,  which  they 
*  pleafe  and  gratify  at  the  fame  time  that  they  nouriih  and  flrengtlien.'  This  paper  the  later 
editors  attribute  to  Addifon,  but  the  internal  evidence  is  ftrongly  in  favour  of  its  being 
Steele's.     Particularly  tlie  ftory  of  the  dream. 

[h]  Davies  in  his  Dramatic  Mifcellanies  has  remarked,  that  King  Lear  in  its  original 
ftate  was  never  a  favorite.  Mr.  Colman  altered  Tate's  alteration,  prefcrving  the  happy 
cataftrophe,  but  reje£l:ing  the  love  fcenes  between  Edgar  and  Cordelia.  The  reafon  givea 
by  Tate  for  this  love  epifode  is  quite  a  la  Francoife,  viz.  the  want  of  hcroifm  in  Edgar  to 
take  fuch  a  mode  of  faving  his  life  for  his  own  fake  only.  However  the  idea  that  Cordelia 
gives  thofe  harfh  anfwers  to  her  father  to  avoid  a  difagreeable  marriage,  reconciles  us  to  a 
condu<a:  otherwife  a  little  inconfiftent  with  fo  gentle  a  charafler  ;  but  on  the  other  hand  it 
deprives  Albany,  who  is  drawn  as  a  perfetStly  jufl:  man,  of  the  only  excufe  he  can  have  for 
arming  againft  his  own  conviction. 

'  Where  I  could  not  be  honeft, 
'  I  never  yet  was  valiant :  for  this  bufinefs, 
'  Jt  touches  us  as  France  invades  our  land.' 

M  m  not 


266  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xnr. 

not  to  lay  afide  his  afliimed  authority,  and  bow  to  the  majefty  of  the 
people,  and  flatter  their  prevailing  tafte  even  in  violation  of  ancient 
manners  by  wedding  a  Roman  virgin  to  a  barbarian  king,  and  of  Roman 
hiftory  by  difmiffing  to  happinefs  and  quiet  a  young  patriot,  who  expired 
loon  afterwards  with  his  country's  freedom  in  the  plains  of  Philippi,  for 
the  fake  of  giving  a  happy  cataftrophe  to  his  celebrated  tragedy.  I  fay 
a  happy  cataflrophe,  for  as  to  the  charadler  of  Cato,  as  it  is  drawn  by 
Addifon,  we-  are  neither  interefted  in  his  life  or  concerned  for  his  death. 

To  argue  from  my  own  feelings,  that  arrangement  of  dramatic 
.  fable  is  at  the  fame  time  the  moft  affecfting,  and  the  moil  pleafing 
in  which  thofe  charafters  in  whofe  welfare  we  are  ftrongly  interefted, 
after  experiencing  the  greateft  diftrefs,  and  while  their  utter  ruin  or 
death  feems  inevitable,  are  at  once  relieved  by  a  fudden  revolution 
of  fortune  quite  unexped:ed  and  yet  not  improbable  [i]  j  and  the  plea- 
fiire  received  from  this  will  be  greatly  encreafed  if  the  diflrefs  of  the 
fable  arifes  from  tyranny  and  oppreflion  [k],  the  author  of  which 
is  involved  in  ruin  by  the  peripetia.  Such  an  arrangement  will  both 
excite  pity  and  terror,  and  the  cataflrophe  will  be  ftill  agreeable  to  our 
feelings.  This  form  is  exemplified  in  the  Wife  for  a  Month  of  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher,  the  Marriage  A-la-Mode  of  Dryden,  the  Grecian 

[i]  The  difficulty  of  doing  this,  I  believe,  has  occafioned  more  poets  to  follow  the  oppofite 
plan  than  the  precept  of  Ariftotle ;  for  as  Dryden  obferves  in  his  preface  to  the  Spanifli 
Friar,  '  It  is  not  fo  eafy  a  bufmefs  to  make  a  tragedy  end  happily;  for  'tis  more  difficult 
'  to  fave  than  'tis  to  kill.  The  dagger  and  the  cup  of  poifon  are  always  in  readinefs;  but 
'  to  bring  the  action  to  the  laft  extremity,  and  then  by  probable  means  to  recover  all,  will 
'  require  the  art  and  judgment  of  a  writer,  and  coft  him  many  a  pang  in  the  performance.' 

[k]  This  is  even  approved  by  Ariftotle.     See  Note  vi.  Chap,  xviii. 

Daughter,, 


Note  VII.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  267 

Daughter,  and  above  all  in  the  fourth  ad:  of  The  Merchant  of  Venice. 
At  the  moment  Shjlock  is  preparing  to  execute  his  bloody  purpofe,  the 
interpolation  of  Portia, 

*  Tarry  a  little — there  is  fomething  elfe,' 

and  the  terror  and  difappointment  of  the  Jew,  has  been  already  men- 
tioned as  affording  the  moft  ftriking  theatrical  fituation  that  can  be  con- 
ceived. Perhaps  the  fubfequent  effeifl  is  fomething  hurt  by  the  raillery 
of  Gratiano,  the  force  of  which  fliould  be  kept  down  as  much  as'pof- 
fible  in  the  performance,  inftead  of  being  highly  exaggerated  as  it  ufually 
is.  We  have  feen  indeed  the  charafter  of  Portia  given  to  a  comic  acflrefs, 
and  the  gravefl  and  moft  fpirited  parts  of  this  fccne  made  the  vehicles  of 
mimicry.  In  this  Mrs.  Clive  was  followed  by  Mifs  Macklin  and  others. 
Mifs  Young,  now  Mrs.  Pope,  had  the  honor  of  reftoring  Portia  to  her 
proper  dignity.  The  fate  of  Sir  Giles  Overreach  in  Mafiinger's  New 
Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  would  be  a  mafterpiece  of  this  fort  were  it  not 
for  the  circumftance  [l]  of  his  daughter  being  a  party  in  the  fcheme  to 
betray  him,  and  the  lord  degrading  his  charadler  as  a  nobleman,  and  ftill 
more  as  a  foldier,  by  taking  a  principal  part  in  the  deception. 

Though  the  peripetia,  or  fudden  revolution  of  forrune,  when  arifing 
even  from  accident  is  allowable  in  the  tragedy  with  a  happy  cataftrophe, 
as  in  the  Wife  for  a  Month  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  yet  I  think  in  the 
tragedy  of  the  other  form  the  unhappy  cataftrophe  fiiould  be  a  necellary  or 
probable  confequence  of  the  circumftances  of  the  fable.     Undeferved 

[l]  From  a  circumftance  of  the  fame  kind,  though  not  immediately  connecled  with  the 
cataftrophe,  Shylock  moves  more  of  our  compaffion  than  perhaps  the  poet  intended  ;  though 
this  is  greatly  counteradted  by  the  fcene  where  his  imprecations  againft  his  daughter's  difobe- 
iJience  aie  alternately  interrupted  by  his  vows  of  vengeance  againft  Antonio. 

M  m  2  mifery. 


268  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xin. 

mifery,  purely  accidental,  will  always  difpleafe  in  the  reprefentation. 
Our  fenfe  of  moral  fitnefs  is  hurt  by  it ;  we  are  apt  to  fay  [m]  fuch 
things  ought  not  to  be.  When  fuch  things  happen  in  real  life  our  firft 
fentiments  take  that  turn,  and  we  can  only  reconcile  them  with 
our  notions  of  a  juft  and  merciful  Providence,  by  looking  beyond  this 
life ;  but  we  are  not  likely  to  make  refleftions  of  that  kind  at  the  thea- 
tre j  the  dramatic  illufion  is  momentary ;  the  inftant  we  reafon  about  it 
it  vanifhes.  The  diftrefs  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  arifes  only  from  the  Friar's 
coming  a  few  minutes  too  late  to  the  monument ;  and  in  Garrick's  [n] 
alteration,  by  Romeo's  drinking  the  poifon  a  few  moments  too  foon. 
The  cataflrophe  of  King  Lear  and  of  Douglas  are  both  derived  from 
accident.  Tate  has  altered  the  firfh  by  making  the  melTenger  arrive 
only  an  inftant  fooner  in  the  prifon ;  in  the  original  he  comes  time 
enough  to  fave  the  king.  The  other  may  be  altered,  and  I  believe  has 
been  on  a  private  theatre,  by  making  Douglas  turn  a  moment  fooner  on 
Glenalvon.  Tragedies  of  this  fort  do  not  require  the  great  art  and 
judgment  mentioned  by  Dryden  to  change  the  cataftrophc,  but  it  can 
very  feldom  be  done  when  the  cataftrophe  arifes  inevitably  from  the  in- 
cidents J  as  in  the  CEdipus  of  Sophocles,  and  in  Coriolanus,  Othello, 
Timon  of  Athens,  Venice  Preferved,  and  the  Fair  Penitent. 

[o]  Dr.  Beattie  blames  the  punifhment  of  Lovelace  in  Clarifla  as  not 
being  the  immediate  confequence  of  his  wickednefs,  but  of  fome  infe- 

[m]  Elements  of  Crilicifm,  Vol.. II.  page  379. 

[n]  By  Garrick's  judicious  alteration  the  pathos  is  greatly  increafed.  At  the  fame  time 
that  I  exprefs  a  general  opinion  tliat  die  unhappy  cataftrophe  ought  not  to  ariL-  from  accident, 
I  do  not  mean  to  fay  that  when  fuch  an  arrangement  is  adopted  the  merit  of  the  poet  does 
not  increafc  in  proportion  as  the  power  of  afFccling  is  made  more  forcible. 

[o]  Eflay  on  P'able  and  Romance,  page  569.. 

riority 


Note  vii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  269 

riorlty  to  his  antagonift  in  the  ufe  of  the  fmall  fword.  But  though  the 
wifdom  of  the  age  has  aboliflied  the  trial  by  combat  from  our  courts, 
it  ftill  makes  a  part  of  the  jurifprudence  of  fable  whether  epic  or  dra- 
matic [p].  On  the  flage  we  are  pleafed  to  fee  Richard  fall  by  the  hand 
of  Richmond,  and  Macbeth  yield  to  Macduff,  though  from  the  charac- 
ters of  the  combatants,  it  is  moft  probable  that  the  decifion  of  a  duel 
would  in  reality  have  been  the  reverfe. 

[p]  We  muft  neverthelefs  allow,  that  when  either  the  epopee  or  the  drama  chufe  to  punifli 
a  charadter  they  have  drawn  fuperlatively  vicious  with  death,  they  ought  not  to  diftinguifli 
his  final  condudt  with  any  particular  ftrokes  of  heroifm.  The  ingenious  author  of  Zelucco 
has  erred  in  this  refpeiSl  when  we  confider  what  a  fiend  he  is  made.  I  think  Thomfon  faw 
this  clearly  from  the  anfwer  he  makes  Caffandra  give  to  the  vaunt  of  j^gifthus,  in  his  tragedy 
of  Agamemnon. 

'  ^GiSTHUS.     We  this  important  day 

'  Will  or  with  conqueft  crown,  or  bravely  die. 

'  Cassandra.     No,  tyrant,  no  !  the  gods  refufe  thee  that: 
'  Not  like  the  brave,  but  like  the  trembling  coward, 
'  Th'  alTaffinating  coward,  fhalt  thou  die.' 

M.  LefTmg,  in  fpeaking  of  the  German  tragedy  of  Richard  the  Third,  makes;  a  fimilar 
obfervation.  (For  the  charafter  of  Richard,  as  drawn  by  the  German  poet,  fee  Note  iv.  on 
this  chapter.)     '  After  fo  many  crimes  which  we  have  been  compelled  to  witnefs,  we  hear 

*  that  he  has  fallen  in  the  field  of  battle.     When  the  queen'   (his  fifter-in-law,  I  prefume,) 

•  is  informed  of  it,  and  the  poet  makes  her  fay,  "  This  is  fomething,"  I  have  never  been  able 

♦  at  the  reprefentatlon  to  refrain  from  faying  to  myfelf,  "  No  !  it's  nothing."     '  More  than 

'  one  virtuous  monarch  has  fallen  in  defending  his  crown  agalnft  a  powerful  rebel.     Richard 

»  dies  indeed,  but  he  dies  like  a  hero ;  dies  on  the  bed  of  honor  :  and  can  fuch  a  death  recom- 

'  penfe  me  for  the  pain  I  have  felt  during  all  the  piece  from  feeing  the  triumph  of  fuccefsful 

'  villainy?'     Dramaturcie,  Part  ii.  page  36.     It  was  given  only  to  Shakefpear  to  paint 

the  character  of  Richard  as  a  cruel  and  fuccefsful  tyrant  without  caufing  him  to  awaken  our 

difgult,  and  to  make  his  death  at  the  fame  time  honorable  and  flipremely  dreadful,  by  means 

of  preceding  machinery. 

NOTE 


270  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiii. 


NOTE      VIII. 

THE  SATISFACTION  ATTAINED  BY  THESE  MEANS  IS  NOT  THAT 
WHICH  SHOULD  PROPERLY  BE  EXPECTED  FROM  TRAGEDY,  BUT 
RATHER  WHAT  BELONGS  TO  COMEDY.  FOR  THERE,  THOUGH 
THE  CHARACTERS  ACCORDING  TO  THE  FABLE  ARE  AS  IM- 
PLACABLE ENEMIES  AS  ORESTES  AND  ^GISTHUS,  THEY  MUST 
GO  OUT  RECONCILED  AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PLAY,  AND  NO 
PERSON     MUST    BE     KILLED    BY    ANOTHER. 

I  PERFECTLY  agree  with  Mr.  Twining  in  his  idea  concerning 
the  aUufion  to  comedy.  Nothing  can  be  more  natural  than  for  Ariftotle, 
after  having  blamed  the  happy  cataflrophe  arifing  from  the  punifliment 
■of  vice,  and  the  reward  of  virtue,  and  faying  that  fuch  an  arrangement 
wanted  the  tragic  requifites  of  pity  and  terror,  and  partook  rather 
of  the  nature  of  comedy,  to  add,  that  comedy  was  indeed  fo  averfe  to 
objedls  of  pity  and  terror  that  it  could  hardly  admit  the  punifliment  of 
vice  ;  the  fcene  muft,  on  no  account,  be  ftained  with  blood  ;  guilt  mufl 
be  reclaimed  not  punifhed  ;  and  enemies  reconciled,  even  though  the 
event  violates  the  known  fads  on  which  the  fable  is  founded. 

The  notion  that  the  death  of  fome  of  the  perfons  is  an  efiential  cha- 
rafteriftic  of  tragedy,  has  I  believe  prevailed  on  the  modern  theatre  ; 
and  fome  of  thofe  dramas  which  take  a  higher  tone  than  is  ufual  with 
comedy,  without  including  any  fatal  accident,  have  been  announced  to 
the  public  under  the  general  name  of  plays.  In  common  converfation 
we  never  apply  tragic  to  any  event,  however  diflrefsful,  that  is  not 
attended  by  fome  fatal  confequcnce. 

From 


Note  viii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  271 

From  the  mention  of  Oreftes  and  iEgifthus,  one  might  be  tempted 
to  think  that  comedy  fometimes  interfered,  as  to  her  fubjedls,  with  the 
province  of  tragedy.  But  I  conceive  it  is  only  meant  as  a  ftrong  exam- 
ple to  illuftrate  the  prediledlion  of  comedy  for  the  univerfal  happinefs 
of  the  cataftrophe. 

The  reconciliation  of  enemies  is  feldom  a  fubjed  of  the  drama,  but 
that  of  friends  who  have  quarrelled  has  been  a  favorite  fcene,  which 
fucceeding  poets  have  copied  from  each  other.  The  archetype  of  this 
was  given  by  Euripides,  in  the  fcene  between  Agamemnon  and  Mene- 
laus,  in  the  Iphigenia  in  Aulis.  Our  Shakefpear  exhibited  a  mafterly 
trait  of  the  fame  kind  in  the  interview  between  Brutus  and  Caffius. 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  copied  him  in  the  dialogue  between  Melanthus 
and  Amyntor  in  the  Maid's  Tragedy ;  and  Dryden  imitated  the  fame 
fituation  twice,  viz.  in  the  fcenes  between  Troilus  and  Hedtor,  and  Dorax 
and  Sebaftian.  To  thefe  may  be  added  the  fcene  between  Horatio  and 
Altamont,  in  the  Fair  Penitent;  and  the  reconciliation  of  Lord  and 
Lady  Townly  in  the  Provoked  Hulband.  Defedls  are  not  fo  generally 
imitated.  At  leaft  we  may  be  fure  that  what  is  fo  often  found  in  the 
compofitions  of  thofe  whofe  chief  bufinefs  it  is  to  pleafe  the  public, 
muft  be  found  capable  of  producing  that  end.  Of  the  dramatic  effedt 
of  all  but  the  two  laft  I  cannot  judge,  but  in  reading  theyaffedl  my  own 
feelings  in  a  higher  degree  than  any  other  dramatic  circumftance  what- 
ever ;  and  the  laft  fcene  of  the  Provoked  Hufband  always  draws  as  many 
tears  from  the  eyes  of  the  audience  as  the  ftrongeft  efforts  of  the  tragic 
mufe,  though  affifled  by  the  powers  of  Mrs.  Siddons. 


CHAP. 


Z'jz  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiv. 


CHAP.      XIV. 

NOTE    I. 

THOSE  WHO  PRODUCE  WHAT  IS  MONSTROUS  INSTEAD  OF  WHAT 
IS  TERRIBLE,  BY  THE  REPRESENTATION,  HAVE  NONE  OF  THE 
PROPERTIES    OF     TRAGEDY. 

The  word  ufed  by  Ariftotle  here  {Ti^<x\mh<;)  I  conceive  to  apply  in 
this  cafe  to  any  thing  wonderful  and  fupernatural,  or  as  Metaftafio  renders 
it,  '  il  monftruofo  ed  il  portentofo."  [a]  The  critic  has  firft  mentioned 
two  modes  of  producing  pity  and  terror;  by  the  apparatus  of  the 
theatre,  and  by  the  conftruftion  of  the  fable.  Yet  he  not  only  gives  the 
decided  preference  to  the  laft,  but  he  even  goes  fo  far  as  to  fay  it  is  in 
faft  the  only  mode  that  can  fairly  be  efteemed  the  work  of  the  poet,  as 
being  capable  of  producing  the  proper  end  of  tragedy  without  the  aflift- 
ance  of  theatrical  reprefentation ;  while  that  which  depends  on  the  ap- 
paratus is  almoft  independent  of  the  poet,  and  depends  chiefly  for  its 
effed;  on  the  [b]  perfon  who  furniflies  and  arranges  the  decoration  of  the 

fpedlacle. 

[a]  See  Mr.  Twining's  note  on  this  paflage,  note  ci,   in  which  there  is  much  judicious 
criticifm. 

[b]  The  Choragus  which  I  have  rendered  '  manager  of  the  theatre'  to  make  it  more  ob- 
vious to  the  EngUlh  reader,  was  the  perfon  who  furniftied  the  chorus,  the  adlors,  the  drefles, 
&c.  at  his  own  expence.  This  mode  of  bribing  the  poorer  citizens  by  the  rich,  was  as  po- 
pular at  Alliens  as  feafting  them  is  in  Britain.  The  fame  method  was  followed  by  the  Roman 
demagogues  towards  die  clofe  of  the  republic,  though  generally  by  the  means  of  a  more  bar- 
barous 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  273 

J^pedacle.  But  he  now  proceeds  to  fliew,  that  the  very  fmall  fliare  the 
poet  could  claim  of  this  effcdl  is  entirely  loft,  when  the  monflrous  is 
exhibited,  merely  as  fuch,  and  unconnecfled  with  the  terrible,  fince  the 
trifling  powers  he  does  pofTefs  in  this  method  of  exciting  the  paffions, 
viz.  the  pointing  out  to  the  perfon  who  regulates  the  apparatus,  the  ob- 
jedls  on  which  he  is  to  exercife  his  art,  are  applied  to  a  purpofe  not  at 
all  connected  with  the  propofed  end  of  tragic  imitation  [c]. 

What  was  the  power  of  the  ancient  theatrical  apparatus  to  produce 
terror,  we  can  only  learn  from  hiftory.  We  are  told  indeed,  though 
-perhaps  from  no  very  good  authority,  that  in  the  Eumenides  of  iEfchylus 
fo  many  furies  in  horrid  forms  were  brought  on  the  flage,  that  children 
were  thrown  into  fits,  and  pregnant  women  mifcarried.  Whatever  may 
be  the  authority  from  which  we  receive  this  anecdote,  it  feems  by  no 
means  improbable.  We  know  the  effedl  that  fcenes  of  this  kind  have 
over  weak  minds  at  the  prefent  hour.  No  one  has  I  believe  ever  cen- 
fured  the  behaviour  of  Partridge  at  the  theatre,  as  contrary  to  nature ; 
and  a  perfon  who  will  really  feel  themfelves  ill  by  the  fuppofed  influence 
of  animal  magnetifm,  may  certainly  be  flrongly  afl-eded  by  theatrical 
iiorror.  We  may  alfo  allow,  that  the  decoration  of  the  Athenian  flage 
■with  its  mafks  and  its  bufldns,  was  as  fuperior  to  our  own  in  reprefent- 
ing  thefe  wonderful  and  fupernatural  appearances,  as  I  mufl  think  it  was 
inferior  in  imitating  the  truth  and  nature  of  real  life. 

barous  exhibition  than  the  drama ;  this  being  afterwards  adopted  by  the  emperors  on  a  larger  and 
more  expenfive  fcale,  had  no  fmall  fhare  in  reconciling  the  people  to  the  lofs  of  their  influence 
in  the  adminiftratioQ  of  the  government. 

[c]  The  reader  who  wiflies  to  fee  an  application  of  this  to  the  modern  pantomime,  and  a 
very  humourous  examination  of  that  fpecies  of  the  drama  by  the  rules  of  Ariitotle,  is  referred 


to  Mr.  Twining,  note  ci. 


Nn  The 


274  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiv. 

The  preternatural  beings  of  Shakefpear  have  been  praifed  (o  often  and 
by  fo  many  critics  who  fland  high  in  the  literary  world,  that  it  might  feem 
fuperfluous  to  fay  any  thing  on  the  fubjed:,  did  I  not  confider  it  as  the 
duty  of  a  writer,  profeffing  to  illuftrate  the  Poetic  of  Ariftotle  by  modern 
examples,  not  to  pafs  over  the  poet  whofe  excellence  in  this  refpedt  is 
unrivalled,  and  is  of  a  different  cafl  from  any  thing  of  the  kind  in  the 
Grecian  drama,  and  that  in  a  circumftance  which  I  do  not  recollect  to 
have  ever  feen  noticed. 

In  the  produdlion  of  fupernatural  beings  by  the  Greek  tragedians, 
both  from  the  pieces  themfelves  and  the  judgement  of  Ariftotle,  it  ap- 
pears the  terror  was  produced  chiefly,  if  not  entirely  by  the  apparatus. 
We  find  none  of  that  folemn  language  which  we  at  once  feel,  [d]  though, 
we  hardly  know  why  to  be  fo  ftridly  charadleriftic  of  the  fhadowy 
fpeaker.  This  is  fo  independent  of,  and  fo  fuperior  to  the  art  of  the 
Choragus,  that  no  theatrical  decoration  is  capable  of  heightening  its 
efied:.  What  reprefentation  can  give  us  fuch  ideas  of  the  ghofh  of 
Hamlet  as  we  received  from  the  terrible  and  pathetic  dialogue  between 
that  aweful  phantom  and  his  fon.  Perhaps  the  effedl  is  flronger  in  the 
clofet  than  on  the  flage.  This  is  certainly  the  cafe  with  Macbeth. 
The  witches  with  their  high-crowned  hats  and  broomflicks,  might  be 
objefts  of  terror,  in  the  reign  of  a  monarch  who  wrote  a  treatife  on 
their  art,  againfl  which  fanguinary  laws  were  not  only  in  exiftence  but 
put  into  frequent  and  fevere  execution;  but  to  us  they  are  merely  objedts  of 
ridicule,  as  having  no  hold  either  on  our  belief,  or  the  faintefl  traces  of 

[d]  The  caufe  of  this  is  examined  and  inveftigated  as  far  as  it  is  capable  of  inveftigation,  by 
the  author  of  the  Efiay  on  the  dramatic  Charafter  of  FalilafF,  page  71. 

our 


Note  r.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  275 

our  recolledion  of  fuch  belief;  and  we  are  at  full  leifure  to  laugh  at  the 
grotefque  figures  of  the  mafculine  and  bearded  women. 

The  Bilhop  of  Worcefter  in  his  Letters  on  Chivalry,  mentions  the 
fuperior  horror  of  the  gothic  to  the  ancient  fuperftition,  and  how  much 
more  we  are  afFefted  by  the  ghofts  and  witches  of  Shakefpear,  than  by 
the  LeiTiures  of  antiquity.  The  fadt  as  to  the  ghofts,  at  leaft  with  re- 
gard to  ourfelves  is  indifputable,  and  I  think,  the  reafon  of  it  is  fufficiently 
obvious.  The  fiftions  of  ancient  mythology  are  only  matters  of  amufe- 
ment  to  us  j  but  the  gothic  fuperftitions  have,  to  moft  of  us,  been  at 
one  part  of  our  lives  the  objed:s  of  our  belief  and  our  terror.  For  pa- 
rental care  has  feldom  been  able  entirely  to  guard  our  infancy  from  the 
impreffions  of  the  nurfery. 

M.  Leffing,  in  his  criticifm  on  the  Semiramis  of  Voltaire,  introduces 
fo  juft  a  comparifon  between  the  machinery  of  Shakefpear  and  Voltaire, 
that  I  fhall  make  no  apology  for  inferting  it  though  it  is  of  fome  length. 

*  Is  it  never  permitted  now  to  admit  a  ghoft  on  the  fcene  ?     Is  this 

*  fource  of  the  terrible,  of  the  pitiable  entirely  exhaufted  ?  By  no  means; 
'  that  would  be  too  great  a  lofs  to  the  poetic  art.  Cannot  we  produce 
'  many  inftances  where  genius  confounds  all  our  philofbphy  by  render- 

*  ing  things  terrible  to  the  imagination,  which  to  the  cool  reafon  would 

*  appear  perfedlly  ridiculous  ?    We  muft  reafon  differently  then ;  per- 

*  haps  the  firft  principle  we  argue  from  is  not  well-founded.  "  We 
"  believe   no  longer  in  apparitions."     Who  has  faid  this  ?     Or  rather, 

*  what  does  it  mean  when  it  is  faid  ?     Does  it  fignify  that  we  are  fo  far 

*  enlightened  as  to  be  able  to  demonftrate  their  impoffibility  ?  Are  thofe 
•*  inconteftable  truths  which  contradift  the  idea  of  fuch  prodigies  fo 
'  univerfally  fpread,  are  they  always  fo  much  in  the  minds  of  the  people, 

N  n  2  *  that 


276  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiv. 

*  that  every  thing  that  is  repugnant  to  them  muft  neceflarily  appear 
'  ridiculous  and  abfurd  ?  That  can  never  be  the  fenfe  of  the  phrafe. 
**  We  beheve  no  longer  in  apparitions,"  then  can  only  mean  this.  Oa 
'  a  lubjedl  on  which  different  opinions  may  be  fupported,  and  which 

*  never  has  been  and  never  can  be  decided,  the  prevailing  opinion  of  the 

*  day  occafions  the  balance  to  preponderate  on  the  negative  fide  :  many 

*  individuals  are  convinced  that  there  are  no  apparitions,  a  great  many 

*  more  pretend  to  be  convinced,  and  thefe  harangue  on  the  fubjedt  and 

*  give   and   fupport  the  fafhionable   doctrine.     But  the   multitude  are 

*  filent,  they  are  indifferent  on  the  fubjedl,  they  fometimes  take  one  fide 

*  and  fometimes  the  other,  they  laugh  at  ghofts  in  broad  day-light,  and 

*  liflen  with  trembling  avidity  at  night  to  the  terrible  flories  that  are 

*  told  of  them  [e], 

*  The  difbelief  of  fpedlres  in  this  fenfe  neither  can  nor  ought  to  pre- 
'  vent  the  ufe  of  them  in  dramatic  poetry.     We  have  all  in  us  at  leail 

*  the  feeds  of  this  belief,  and  they  will  be  found  moil  in  the  minds  of 

*  the  people  for  whom  the  [f]  poet  principally  compofes.     It  depends 
'  on  his  art  to  make  them  vegetate,  and  on  his  addrefs,  in  the  rapidity  of 

*  the  moment  to  give  force  to  the  arguments  in  favor  of  the  reality  of 

*  thefe  phantoms.     If  he  fucceeds,  we  may  be  at  liberty  in  common 

*  life  to  believe  as  we  pleafe,  but  at  the  theatre  he  will  be  the  arbiter  of 
*•  our  faith. 

[e]  I  am  too  well  convinced  of  the  accuracy  of  M.  Lefling's  knowledge  of  human  nature 
to  doubt  the  truth  of  this  account  of  German  credulity.  It  would  have  better  fuited  this 
country  half  a  century  ago  than  at  prefent.  But,  even  now,  there  are  more  people  who  will 
feel  the  truth  of  it  than  will  own  it,  even  in  England. 

[f]  Efpecially  the  dramatic  poet.  It  is  faid  of  Molicrc  that  he  ufed  to  read  all  his  comedies 
to  an  old  female  fervant,  t>n'd  generally  found  her  decifions  confirmed  by  the  public. 

*  Shakefpear 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  277 

*  Shakefpear  knew  this  art,  and  he  is  almoft  the  only  one  who  ever 

*  did  know  it.     At  the  appearance  ol'  his  ghofi.,   in  Hamlet,    the  hair 

*  ftands  an  end,  whether  it  covers  the  brain  of  increduhty  or  fuperfti- 

*  tion.     M.  Voltaire  was  much   in  the  wrcng  to  appeal  to  this  ghoft, 

*  which  makes  both  him  and  his  apparition  of  Ninus  ridiculous.     The 

*  ghoft  of  Shakefpear  really  comes  from  the  other  world,  at  leafl  it  ap- 

*  pears  fo  to  our  feelings  :  for  it  arrives  in  the  folemn  hour,  in  the  dead 

*  filence  of  midnight,  accompanied  by  all  thofe  gloomy  and  myfterious 

*  acceflbry  ideas  with  which  our  nurfes  have  taught  us  to  expedl  the 

*  appearance  of  fpedlres ;  while  that  of  Voltaire's  is  not  fit  even  to  ter- 

*  rify  a  child.     It  is  merely  an  adtor  who  neither  fays  or  does  any  thing 

*  to  perfuade  us  he  is  what  he  pretends  to  be :  on  the  contrary,  all  tlie 

*  circumflances  with  which  it  appears,  deftroy  the  illufion  and  betray  the 

*  hand  of  a  cold  poet  who  wiflies  indeed  to  deceive  and  terrify  us,  but 

*  does  not  know  how  to  go  about  it.     It  is  in  the  middle  of  the  day  [g], 

*  in  the  middle  of  an  afTembly  of  the  ftates  of  the  empire,  and  preceded 

*  by  a  peal  of  thunder,  that  the  fpirit  of  Ninus  makes  its  appearance  from 

*  the  tomb.     From  whence  did  Voltaire  learn  that  apparitions  were  fo 

*  bold  ?     What  old  woman  could  not  have  told  him  that  apparitions 

*  were  afraid  of  the  light  of  the  fun,  and  were  not  fond  of  vifiting  large 

[g]  Shakefpear  knew  the  confequence  of  adapting  his  fcenery  to  his  action,  in  exciting  ter- 
ror by  natural  as  well  as  fupernatural  agents. 

•  The  fun  is  in  the  heaven ;  and  the  proud  day, 

'  Attended  with  the  pleafures  of  the  world, 

'  Is  all  too  wanton  and  too  full  of  gawds 

'  To  give  me  audience  : — if  the  midnight  bell 

'  Did  with  his  iron  tongue  and  brazen  mouth, 

'  Sound  one  unto  the  drowzy  race  of  night: 

«-  If  this  fame  were  a  church-yard  where  we  ftand.'— .  K.  John. 

'  afTemblies  ? 


278  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiv. 

'  affemblies  ?     Voltaire  was  undoubtedly  acquainted  with  all  this ;  but 

*  he  was  too  cautious,  too  delicate,  to  make  ufe  of  fuch  trifling  cir- 
'  cumftances.     He  was  defirous  indeed  of  (hewing  us  a  ghoft,  but  he 

*  was  determined  it  (hould  be  one  of  French  extradion,  decent,  and 

*  noble.     This  decency  fpoiled  the  whole.     A  fpedre,  who  takes  liber- 

*  ties  contrary  to  all  cuftom,  law,  and  eflabliflied  order  of  ghofts,  does 

*  not  feem  to  me  a  genuine  fpedtre ;  and  in  this  cafe,  every  thing  that 

*  does  not  ftrengthen  the  illufion  tends  to  deflroy  it. 

*  If  Voltaire  had  examined  with  care,  he  would  have  felt  the  incon- 
'  veniency,  which  on  another  account  muft  attend  the  bringing  a  phan- 

*  torn  before  fo  many  people.     On  its  appearance,  all  the  perfons  of  the 

*  afTembly  (that  is  to  fay,  all  the  adlors  who  were  reprefenting  the 
'  council  of  the  queen  and  the  ftates)  ought  to  fhew  in  their  counte- 
'  nances  all  the  terror  that  the  fituation  required  ;  each  ought  even  to 
'  fhew  it  differently  from  the  reft  to  avoid  the  cold  uniformity  of  a  ballet. 
'  How  could  fuch  a  troop  of  flupid  afTiflants  be  trained  to  this  exercifc  ? 

*  And  when  it  had  fucceeded  as  well  as  pofTible,  would  not  this  variety 

*  of  exprefTion  of  the  fame  fentiment  have  divided  the  attention  of  the 

*  fpedlators,  and  necefTarily  have  drawn  it  from  the  principal  characters  ? 

*  That  thefe  may  make  a  ftrong  imprefTion  on  us,  it  is  not  only  neceffary 
'  that  we  fliould  fee  them,  but  it  is  alfo  proper  that  we  fliould  fee  no- 
'  thing  elfe. 

*  In  Shakefpear,  it  is  only  with  Hamlet  that  the  ghofl  converfes.    In 

*  the  fcene  where  the  mother  is  prefent,  the  fpedre  is  neither  feen  or 

*  heard  by  her.     All  our  attention  then  is  fixed  on  him  alone  ;  and  the 

*  more  we  difcover  in  him  the  figns  of  a  foul  diflradled  by  terror  and 
'  furprize,  the  more  caufe  we  have  to  think  the  apparition  which  occa- 

*  fions 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.                      279 

«  fions  fuch  agitations,  as  real  as  he  feems  to  believe  it.     The  [h]  ghoft 

*  operates  more  on  us  through  him,  than  itfelf.     The  impreflion  that  it 

*  makes  on  him  pafles  into  our  minds,  and  the  effedl  is  too  fenfible  and 

*  too  ftrong  for  us  to  doubt  of  an  extraordinary  caufe.     Of  this  fecret, 

*  Voltaire   knew   little.     It   is   precifely   becaufe   his  fpedlre   tries   to 

*  terrify  many  people,   that  it   produces  little  terror  in  any  one.     Semi- 

*  ramis  cries  out  once  only,  "  O,  heaven,  I  die  !"  and  the  other  aflift- 

*  ants  are  very  little  more  affedted  by  the  {hade  of  Ninus,   than  they 

*  would  be  by  the  unexpedled  appearance  of  a  friend,  whom  they  be- 

*  lieved  to  be  at  a  diftance. 

*  I  obferve  alfo  another  difference  between  the  French  and  Englifli 

'  fpedlre.     The  firft  is  only  a  poetical  machine  folely  employed  to  [i] 

'  unravel  the  plot ;  we  take  no  intereft  in  him.     On  the  contrary,  the 


Jh]  Fielding  makes  Partridge  account  for  his  fear  in  the  fame  manner.     '  Not  that  it  was 
'  the  ghoft  that  furprized  me  neither :  for  I  fhould  have  known  that  to  have  been  only  a  man 

*  in  a  ftrange  drefs :  but  when  I  faw  the  little  man  fo  frightened  himfelf  it  was  that  which  took 
»  hold  of  me.'     Tom  Jones,  Book  xvi.  Chap.  v. 

[i]  This  intention  however  is  exprefsly  difavowed  by  Voltaire;  and  what  is  rather  furpriz- 
ing,  in  a  paragraph  in  which  he  quotes,  with  approbation,  the  celebrated  rule  of  Horace, 

'  Nee  deus  interfit  nifi  dignus  vindice  nodus.' 

<  I  would  have  (he  fays)  thefe  bold  attempts  never  employed,  except  when  they  ferve  at  the 
'  fame  time  to  add  to  the  intrigue  and  the  terror  of  the  piece ;  and  I  would  wifli  by  all  means 

*  that  the  intervention  of  thefe  fupernatural  beings  fhould  not  appear  abfolutely  neceflary.     I 
'  will  explain  myfelf:  if  the  plot  of  a  tragic  poem  is  fo  involved  in  difficulty,  that  the  poet  can 

*  only  free  himfelf  from  the  embarraflment  by  the  aid  of  a  prodigy,  the  fpedtator  will  perceive 

*  the  diftrefs  of  the  author  and  the  weaknefs  of  the  refource.'    Dissertation  on  Tragedy 

PREFIXED  TO  SeMIRAMIS. 

•  other 


28o  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  xiv, 

*  other  is  really  an  efficient  perfon  of  the  drama,  in  whofe  fate  we  are 
'  interefted ;  he  excites  not  only  terror,  but  compaffion  alfo. 

*  This  has  probably  arifen  from  the  different  manner  in  which  thefe 

*  two  authors  have  confidered  the  general  notion  of  apparitions.     Vol- 

*  taire  has  regarded  the  appearance  of  a  dead  perfon  as  a  miracle,  and 

*  Shakefpear  as  a  natural  event.     Which  of  the  two  thought  moft  as  a 

*  philofopher  is  a  queftion  that  we  have  nothing  at  all  to  do  with ;  but 

*  the  Englifliman  thought  moft  as  a  poet.'     Dramaturgie,   Part  I. 
page  39,  et  feq. 

After  all,  though  there  is  great  truth  in  much  that  is  here  advanced,  I 
do  not  think  an  Englilli  audience  would  now  endure  a  ghoft  from  a 
modern  hand,  however  well  executed.  That  we  have  ftill  belief  in  ap- 
paritions fufficient  for  dramatic  effecft,  is  obvious  from  the  reception  of 
Shakefpear's  Ghofts.  Biit  we  require  that  the  poet  fliould  have  rather 
a  ftronger  credulity.  This  is  illuftrated  by  the  comparifon  between  the 
faith  of  Shakefpear  and  Voltaire  in  the  concluding  paragraph  of  the 
quotation.  Every  modern  poet  muft  be  in  the  predicament  of  the 
latter.  There  is  very  nearly  the  fame  diftinftion  between  the  machinery 
of  Homer  [k]  and  Virgil. 

An  inftance  perhaps  of  the  marvellous  puflied  too  far,  may  be  drawn 

from  Dryden's  CEdipus.     I  have  read  fomewhere,  that  on  the  revival  of 

'     that  tragedy,  the  audience  were  difgufted  with  the  variety  of  prodigies, 

and  the  ghoft  of  Laius  with  his  numerous  attendants.     Brumoy,   (Vol. 

I.  page  393)  Ipeaking  of  Seneca's  QEdipus,  fays,  *  Creon  makes  a  more 

[k]  See  note  i,  chap.  xxiv. 

*  than 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  281 

«  than  infernal  defcription  of  the  prodigies  he  had  feen.'  And  Dryden 
in  the  preface  to  his  tragedy,  prides  himfelf  for  bringing  that  before  the 
audience  which  Seneca  had  only  defcribed.  Perhaps  he  chofe  here  to 
enter  the  Ufts  with  Shakefpear.  It  would  have  been  more  conducive  to 
his  reputation,  if  he  had  recolleded  his  own  words  in  the  prologue  to  his 
Tempeft,  where  he  tried  to  imitate  and  add  to  the  machinery  of  a  play, 
which  was  in  every  refpeft  inimitable. 

*  But  Shakefpear's  magic  could  not  copied  be  j 

*  Within  that  circle  none  durfl  walk  but  he.' 

We  have  lately  feen  an  attempt  of  the  fame  kind  by  a  perfon  of  the 
highefh  eminence  in  a  lifter  art,  whofe  recent  lofs  is  juftly  an  objedt  of 
national  concern.  I  mean  the  fiend  at  the  head  of  the  dying  Cardinal 
in  the  celebrated  picture  of  Sir  Jofliua  Reynolds,  in  the  Shakefpear 
gallery. 


NOTE     IL 

IT  NOT  BEING  ALLOWABLE  TO  ALTER  ESSENTIALLY  STORIES 
THAT  HAVE  BEEN  GENERALLY  RECEIVED,  BUT,  FOR  EXAMPLE, 
CLYTEMNESTRA  MUST  BE  KILLED  BY  ORESTES,  AND  ERIPHYLE 
BY  ALCMiEON  j  IT  IS  THE  DUTY  OF  THE  POET  TO  FIND  OUT 
SUCH   TRADITIONAL   STORIES,   AND   EMPLOY   THEM   SKILFULLY. 

TO  explain  clearly  my  notion  of  the  fpirit  of  this  precept,  it  will  be 
neceflary  to  give  fome  degree  of  paraphrafe.  The  critic  has  decided  on 
what  incidents,  and  between  what  perfons,  the  force  of  the  paflions  of 
pity  and  terror  fhould  be  founded.     But  he  then  adds,  that  it  not  being 

O  o  allowable 


282  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.xiv. 

allowable  for  the  poet  to  alter  the  eflential  circumftances  of  known  flories, 
he  ought  to  feek  out  for  fiich  hiftorical  events  as  furnifh  thofe  tragical 
incidents ;  and  having  found  them,  to  employ  and  arrange  the  circum- 
ftances  in  fuch  a  manner,  as  to  give  them  the  greateft  force  on  the  feel- 
ings of  the  audience. 

There  are  three  opinions  on  the  meaning  of  the  phrafe  in  the  original^ 
Avjov  Sa  IvpiiTKEiu  ^sT.  yccci  roig  ■BTOipxSe^ofx.Bvoig  x§ritr6xi  xxKag.  The  moft  ge- 
neral is,  that  it  diredls  the  poet  to  invent  new  fables  himfelf,  like  the  [l] 
Anthos  of  Agathon,  and  arrange  the  eircumflances  of  traditional  ftories 
properly ;  another  is,  that  the  poet  fhould  find  out  new  hiftorical  fubjedts; 
and  the  third,  that  he  fhould  find,  out  new  ftories,  making  a  proper  ufe 
of  fables  already  received,  which  is  that  adopted  by  Dacier,  but  feems 
Jo  me  wrong  as  to  the  laft  part  of  tlie  fentence. 

In  my  former  edition  I  had  followed  the  firfl  interpretation.  But  the 
[m]  arguments  of  Mr.  Twining,  to  which.  I  refer  the  critical  reader, 
are  fo  convincing  in  favor  of  the  fecond,  though  he  has  admitted  the 
firfl  intO'the  text  of  his  tranflation,  that  I  liave  followed  him  without 
hefitation.  This  argument  feems  confirmed  alfo  by  what  Ariilotle  fays 
in  the  laft  chapter,  and  repeats  again  in  this,  of  the  fcarcity  of  proper 
dramatic  fubjedts.  On  which  account,  it  may  juflly  be  confidered  as  the 
duty  of  the  poet  to  feek  diligently  for  fables  which  afford  fuch  incidents. 
I  cannot  however  agree  with  Mr.  Twining,  in  tliinking  that  evptinieiv  is 
obvioufly  oppofed  to  to/?  ■srot^oiMof^evotg  xfi°'^<^''  If  that  were  the  cafe,  I 
fhould  be  ftill  inclined  to  adhere  to  the  firfl  tranflation ;  but  I  think  it 

[l]  See  chap.  ix.  [m|  See  his  note  civ.. 

cannot 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  283 

cannot  be  juftified  without  altering  the  conjunftion  jcai,  which,  taking 
in  the  fenfe  of  the  whole  paflage,  feems  to  connedl  and  not  diftinguifti 
the  [n]  finding  of  the  fable,  and  the  employment  of  its  circumftances 
when  found- 

Among  all  the  editors  and  commentators  who  have  written  on  Shakef- 
pear's  Hamlet,  and  who  have  traced  its  fource  in  an  old  novel,  founded 
on  an  event  recorded  by  Saxo  Grammaticus,  I  am  furprized  that  no  one 
has  noticed  the  ftriking  refemblance  between  Hamlet  and  Orefles.  But 
though  this  has  not  been  remarked  by  his  countrymen,  it  has  not  efcaped 
the  obfervation  of  a  French  critic.  It  appears  from  a  letter  of  the  Abbe 
Le  Blanc,  to  the  French  dramatic  poet  Crebillon  [o],  that  the  Abbe 
Prevot  ha-s  written  a  comparifon  between  the  tragedies  of  Eledtra  and 
Hamlet,  in  which  '  he  commends  the  Englifli  poet  becaufe  wifer  than 

*  Sophocles,  he  forbids  young  Hamlet,  by  the  apparition  of  the  ghofl, 

*  to  attempt  any  thmg  againft  his  mother's  life.'  And  Le  Blanc  him- 
felf  was  fo  much  ilruck  with  the  refemblance  as  to  fay,  he  is  '  inclined  to 

*  think  the  likenefs  between  the  tragedy  of  Hamlet,  and  the  Greek  one 

*  of  Eledlra,  is  not  the  mere  effeft  of  chance,   but  that  we  may  eafily 

*  difcover  the  perfon  of  Orefles  in  Hamlet,  which  Shakefpear  hais  ac- 

[n]  The  Englilh  tranflators  of  Ariftode  and  other  Greek  writers,  have  frequently  been 
drawn  into  error  by  the  Latin  word  for  lujiVxw.  invenio.  of  which  the  Englifh  word,  in- 
vent, though  its  derivative,  is  by  no  means  the  proper  tranflation.  IIoiew  fignifies  to  invent 
in  the  fenfe  which  is  here  fuppofed,  and  is  univerfally  ufed  for  it  in  this  work,  and  its  proper 
Latin  tranflation  is  fingo.  But  though  Ariftotle's  precepts  here,  as  well  as  the  examples  with 
which  he  illullrates  them  are  drawn  from  received  fables,  they  apply  equally  to  thofe  which  arc 
the  pure  invention  of  the  poet. 

[o]  See  Letters  on  the  Englifh  and  French  Nations,  Let.  jlix. 

^02  <  commodated 


284  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiv. 

*  commodated  to  his  own  manner  of  writing.'  There  certainly  are 
more  circumftances  of  co- incidence  between  the  ftories  of  Hamlet  and 
Oreftes,  than  can  well  be  refolved  into  accident.  As  the  monarch  being 
killed  by  a  brother  in  one,  a  coufin  german  in  the  other,  who  poffefles 
his  wife  and  ufurps  his  throne ;  the  fon  robbed  of  his  right,  his  life 
treacheroully  attempted,  and  himfelf  urged  to  vengeance  by  fupernatural 
means  -,  the  friendfhip  of  Hamlet  for  Horatio,  and  Oreftes  for  Pylades, 
both  of  whom  by  the  way  are  cyphers  in  the  adlion,  and  even  the  madnefs 
of  Hamlet  when  joined  with  the  other  circumftances.  And  here  I  muft 
remark,  that  the  advantage  of  Shakefpear  over  Sophocles,  allowed  by 
the  French  critic,  arofe  from  the  former  not  being  fettered  by  this  pre- 
cept of  Ariftotle ;  and  being  at  liberty  to  free  his  chief  character  from 
the  horrid  crime  of  matricide,  without  altering  an  effential  incident  of  a 
well-known  hiftory. 

NOTE     III. 
I  WILL  EXPLAIN   MORE  CLEARLY  WHAT   I  MEAN   BY  SKILFULLY.. 

THOUGH  Ariftotle  is  here  laying  down  rules  for  giving  the  beft  ar- 
rangement to  thofe  leading  circumftances  in  received  or  traditional  ftories, 
which  the  poet  is  not  allowed  to  alter,  it  is  obfervable,  that  of  all  the 
examples  he  gives,  the  ftory  of  Alcmaeon  and  Eriphyle  is  the  only  one 
in  which  the  manner  of  the  event,  as  well  as  the  event  itfelf,  is  not  ac- 
cording to  received  opinion.  Medea  is  always  fuppofed  to  deftroy  her 
children  knowingly,  and  the  inceft  and  parricide  of  CEdipus  to  be  invo- 
luntary, and  fo  of  the  reft. 

NOTE 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  285 


NOTE     IV. 

AND  THERE  IS  NO  OTHER  METHOD  EXCEPT  THESE,  FOR  A  PER- 
SON MUST  EITHER  ACT,  OR  NOT  ACT,  AND  MUST  EITHER  KNOW, 
OR   BE  IGNORANT   OF,    THE  CONSEQUENCES  OF   THE  ACTION. 

OF  thefe  methods,  according  to  the  opinion  of  Ariftotle,  at  leaft  as 
delivered  in  this  chapter,  the  following  is  the  order  in  point  of  merit, 
beginning  according  to  his  ufual  cuftom  with  the  loweft  degree. 

Firft,  for  the  character  to  meditate  fome  atrocious  crirhe,  perfectly 
acquainted  with  its  confequence  and  the  relation  which  the  objeil  of  it 
bears  to  him,  and  to  deiift  from  the  perpetration  of  it  from  a  change  of 
fentiment.  The  example  Ariftotle  brings  of  this  is  the  intention  of 
Haenion  to  kill  his  father  in  the  Antigone  of  Sophocles.  The  Love  Tri- 
umphant of  Dryden  furnifhes  a  modern  inftance.  The  cataftrophe  of 
As  You  Like  It,  depends  on  the  ufurper  changing  his  purpofe. 

Secondly,  for  a  charadler  in  the  fame  predicament  to  execute  the 
purpofe.  Medea  is  the  example  of  Ariilotle.  We  may  produce  Othello 
and  Macbeth. 

Thirdly,  for  a  charadler  to  perform  fome  terrible  adion  ignorant  of 
the  confequence,  and  the  relation  of  the  objetft,  and  to  make  the  difco- 
very  afterwards ;  of  this  CEdipus  and  the  Orphan  are  examples. 

Fourthly, 


2^6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiv. 

Fourthly,  for  a  charadler,  in  the  fame  circumftance  with  the  laft,  to 
difcover  the  confequence  and   the  relation   before  the  purpofe  is  exe- 
cuted.    Of  this  Merope  will  ferve  both  for  an  ancient  and  modern  exam- 
I  pie.    Dryden's  Conqueil  of  Granada  furniflies  another. 

Difcovery  of  perfons  is  not  fo  often  the  hinge  on  which  the  modern 
drama  turns,  as  difcovery  of  innocence  or  other  circumflances.  In 
which  cafe  the  iirft  and  laft  fpecies  will  be  often  blended,  [p]  Othello 
will  be  removed  from  the  fecond  to  the  third  clafs,  which  will  alfo 
comprehend  Zara  [qJ. 

Having  ftated  thefe  different  forms,it  remains  toexaminehowfar  Ariflotle 
appears  right  as  to  the  refpecftive  rank  in  which  he  claffes  them  accord- 
ing to  their  comparative  excellence,  and  particularly  to  enquire  how  far 
he  is  juftified  in  the  fevere  fentence  he  paffes  on  the  firft ;  and  how  the 
preference  he  appears  to  give  the  laft  can  be  reconciled  with  the  opinion 
he  delivers  as  to  tragedy,  in  the  preceding  chapter.  In  doing  this,  I 
ihail  endeavour  as  much  as  I  am  able,  to  keep  the  obfervations  on  the 
refpedtive  forms  feparate.  Though  from  the  neceflity  of  comparing  them 
with  each  other,  it  will  be  impoffible  fometimes  to  avoid  blending  them. 

In  regard  to  the  firfl:  arrangement;  its  only  difference  from  the  fecond 
arifes  from  the  want  of  the  pathos,  the  acflual  fuffering  of  fome  perfon, 

[p]  For  want  of  a  circumftance  of  this  fort  the  fable  of  Medea  is  infinitely  more  fhocking, 
and  lefs  interefting  than  that  of  Othello.  The  difcovery  of  lago's  villainy,  and  Defdemona's 
innocence,  are  afFefting  in  the  highefl:  degree. 

[Q»]  When  the  firft  and  fecond  fpecies  have  no  difcovery  whatever,  they  will  of  courfe  re- 
main as  clafled  by  Ariftotle. 

which 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  287 

which  Ariftotle  thinks  fo  neceflary  for  tragedy;  and  the  decifion  of 
Ariftotle  in  this  place,  makes  his  preference  of  fuch  tragedies  as  Merope 
flill  more  wonderful ;  fmce  this  mode  has  exaftly  the  fame  difference 
from  the  fecond  that  the  fourth  has  from  the  third ;  for  the  improba- 
bility of  the  change  of  fentiment,  on  which  fomething  might  be  faid,  is 
not  what  Ariflotle  cenfures,  but  the  want  of  [r]  effedt,  becaufe  no  per- 
fon  fuffers. 

In  the  tragedy  of  Macbeth,  the  firfl  and  fecond  modes  are  mixed. 
Macbeth  and  his  wife  are  both  acquainted  with  their  relation  to  Duncan, 
by  the  joint  ties  of  blood,  of  gratitude,  of  allegiance,  and  of  hofpitality. 
The  former  executes  the  ad:,  while  Lady  Macbeth  on  the  point  of  doing 
it  defifls,  becaufe  as  fhe  fays,  he  '  refembled  her  father  as  he  flept/ 
This  ftroke  has  been  frequently  admired,  as  marking  the  natural  ten- 
dernefs  and  fympathy  of  the  female  fex  in  adlion,  even  when  capable  of 
urging  another  to  the  moft  atrocious  deeds  of  cruelty. 

[s]  Metaftafio  approves  this  firfl:  arrangement  as  giving  the  ftrongeft 
powers  of  marking  and  concluding  tlie  ftruggle  between  the  various 
contending  fuggeftions  of  love,  of  reafon,  of  manners,  and  of  defpair,  by 
an  adl  of  fuicide ;  and  he  draws  his  example  from  the  fame  fource  with 
Ariftotle,  the  Antigone  of  Sophocles.  If  Hasmon,.  worked  up  to  the 
higheft  degree  of  frenzy,  by  the  ftruggle  between  conjugal  love  and 

[s]  EsTRATTO  DELLA  PoETiCA,  page  272.  The  reader  who  wifhes  to  compare  this 
with  Metaftafio,  will  obferve,  that  he  enumerates  the  forms  according  to  tlieir  merit,  while  I 
have  followed  the  order  of  Ariftotle, 

parental 


288  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiv. 

parental  cruelty,  on  the  point  [t]  of  plunging  his  fvvord  into  the  bofom 
of  his  father,  had  turned  it  againft  his  own  j  he  obferves,  and  juftly, 
that  in  fuch  an  arrangement  the  paffions  of  pity  and  terror  would  be 
ftrongly  excited,  and  the  indifpenfable  [u]  Ariftotclian  pathos,  the  per- 
turbation arifing  from  the  fight  of  wounds,  and  death,  ftill  preferved. 
But  this  produdtion  of  pity  and  terror,  arifing  from  a  ftruggle  between 
remorfe  and  paffion  as  to  the  commiflion  of  an  atrocious  crime,  and  ter- 
minating in  the  refolution  of  committing  it,  whether  fuch  refolution  is 
actually  carried  into  execution  or  not,  is  branded  by  Ariftotle  with  the 
epithet  of  [x]  difguftful. 

Corneille  is  of  a  different  opinion  from  Ariftotle  as  to  this.  He  allows 
indeed  the  theatrical  effedt  which  attends  the  difcovery  incident  to  the 
third  and  fourth  modes,  and  efpecially  the  fourth,  to  be  particularly 
ftriking ;  and  that  the  incident  in  Merope  (of  which  I  fhall  fpeak  more 
at  large  prefently)  is  the  moft  affedling  that  can  be  imagined.  But  he 
addy,  '  all  this  beauty  is  confined  to  the  fingle  moment  of  the  difcovery; 
'  that  is  to  fay,  the  end  of  the  drama  [y]  ;  throughout  the  whole  courfe 
' '  of  which  the  principal  charafler  remains  in  the  fame    fituation  of 

[t]  I  do  not  recolleft  fuch  an  incident  in  any  regular  modern  drama ;  but  there  is  fome- 
thing  like  it  in  an  anomalous  dramatic  poem  of  Lord  Lanfdowne's,  called  the  Britifh  Enchanters, 
where  Conftantius  in  defpair,  catches  his  favored  rival  by  the  throat,  and  is  on  the  point  of 
ftabbing  him,  till  recolledting  the  diftrefs  it  will  bring  on  his  miftrcfs,  he  exclaims, 

'  But  for  Oriana's  fake  'tis  better  here,' 

and  inftantly  kills  himfelf. 

[u]  '  Patos  Ariftotelico.' 

[y]  Which  by  the  way  is  not  the  cafe  in  the  modern  tragedies  of  IMerope. 


*  wifhing 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  2S9 

*  wifliing  to  kill  a  perfon  neither  connedled  by  friendfhip  or  confan- 

*  guinity.  A  lituation  not  tragical,  according  to  Ariftotle  himfelf.  From 
'  whence  the  poet  can  find  no  opportunity  of  agitating  the  paflions.   But 

*  on  the  contrary  in  the  other  cafe,  (that  of  Medea)   where  an  atrocious 

*  deed  is  knowingly  purpofed  and  executed ;  the  continual  agitation  of 
'  the  principal  charadler  always  fluctuating  between  love  and  rage,  be- 

*  tween  the  defire  of  vengeance  and  the  horror  of  the  deed,  will  not  be 

*  confined  to  the  cataftrophe  but  will  pervade  the  whole  tragedy.     Since 

*  the  caufes  which  lead  by  degrees  to  the  conception  of  fo  horrid  a  de- 

*  fign,  the  repugnancy  of  natural  affedlion,  the  paffions  of  rage  and 
'  tendernefs  that  muft  alternately  prevail,  will  furnifh  the  poet  with 
'  ample  materials  for  fhewing  his  principal  charadler  in  fituations  always 
'  new,  always  violent,  and  always  perplexing,  till  the  lail  impulfe  tliat 

*  iinallj  fixes  his  refolution,* 

It  is  impoflible  to  avoid  feeing  the  truth  and  juflice  of  thefe  remarks. 
Why  then  fhould  Ariflotle  call  this  arrangement  difguftful  ?  Perhaps 
we  may  trace  the  caufe  in  the  nature  of  the  ancient  theatre,  which,  rather 
calculated  to  reprefent  [z]  adlion  than  pafiion,  was  ill  qualified  for  the 
exhibition  of  this  ftruggle  between  thofe  contending  fenfations,  which 
could  not,  in  cafes  of  extreme  guilt  efpecially,  be  opened  at  large  in  the 
prefence  of  a  chorus  [a],  and  therefore  the  criminal  intent  appears  to  the 
audience  in  all  its  horrors,  without  any  alleviating  circumflance. 

[z]  See  Note  vii,  Chap,  xiii. 

[a]  In  the  Medea  of  Euripides,  the  chorus  argue  ftrongly  with  her  on  her  unnatural  de- 
Tign.  The  ftruggle  in  her  own  bofom  is  drawn  in  much  fainter  colors  ;  and  her  fixed  refolu- 
tion  in  fo  horrid  a  defign  is  well  calculated  to  excite  the  difguft  mentioned  by  Ariftotle. 

Pp  In 


290  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiv. 

Ih  this  point,  that  is  in  the  continuation  of  the  intereft  arifing  from 
contending  and  contradiftory  paffions,  the  firft  and  fecond  modes  exadly 
agree.  It  remains  to  examine  the  cataftrophe  in  which  they  differ.  The 
prevention  of  the  perpetration  of  a  horrid  crime  by  fuicide,  as  propofed  by 
Metaftafio  [b],  would  certainly  have  a  good  theatrical  efFedt,  but  it  does  not 
exaftly  come  under  the  cenfure  that  Arifhotle  gives  to  the  cataftrophe  oc- 
cafioned  by  the  change  of  mind  only,  without  any  pofitive  adlion,  and 
therefore  is  not  an  anfwer  to  it.  When  in  the  courfe  of  the  flruggle, 
reafon  alone  preponderates  againft  paffion,  and  the  characfter  defifts  from 
adling,  merely  from  refleftion,  the  conflid:  will  either  not  appear  to  be 
carried  to  the  highefl:  pitch,  or  the  change  of  purpofe  will  feem  to  want 
a  fufficient  caufe  [c];  for  if  it  happens  from  any  extraneous  caufe  what- 
ever, apparently  adequate  to  work  fuch  a  change,  it  will  have  all  the  efFe6t 
of  a  difcovery,  and  the  fpecies  will  be  clianged  from  the  firft  to  the  fourth. 

[b]  Racine  has  managed  this  matter  in  a  very  extraordinary  mode  in  his  tragedy  of  the 
Thebaide.  Creon  and  his  fon  are  rivals  for  the  afFedions  of  Antigone.  Haemon  is  killed  in 
trying  to  feparate  Eteocles  and  Polynices,  who,  as  is  well  known,  fell  each  by  the  other's  fword 
in  fingle  combat ;  and  Creon  finding  his  rivals,  both  in  love  and  ambition,  removed  by  the 
death  of  his  fon  and  his  kinfmen,  ofFers  his  hand  and  his  throne  to  Antigone,  who  chofe  rather 
to  facrifice  her  life  to  the  memory  of  her  lover  and  her  brothers.  On  which  Creon,  after  hav- 
ing called  on  heaven  to  deftroy  him  with  a  thunder  bolt,  faints  away  in  the  arms  of  his  guards ; 
reminding  us  a  little  of  Kitty's  fpeech  in  The  What  D'ye  Call  It. 

'  Lead  me  to  bed  and  there  I'll  moan  and  weep, 
'  And  clofe  thefe  weary  eyes  in  death or  fleep.' 

[c]  It  muft  be  acknowledged  that  the  ftory  of  Coriolanus,  which  is  certainly  a  very  good 
ene  for  a  tragedy,  depends  on  a  change  of  refolution ;  and  the  fame  may  be  feid  of  Dryden's 
Love  Triumphant,  on  the  cataftrophe  of  which  he  prided  himfelf,  and  which  is  really  a  good 
one.  But  in  both  thefe  cafes,  the  change  of  refolution  is  occafioned  by  conclufive  reafoning 
and  earneft  refolution :  the  combat  is  violent,  and  the  viilory  gradual. 

*  A  French 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  291 

*  A  French  poet,   M.  de  Longe  Pierre,    has  chofen  to  give   this, 

*  arrangement  to  the  flory  of  Medea,  whom  he  has  reprefented  on  the 

*  very  point  of  murdering  her  infants  ;  but  at  the  inftant  fhe  is  going 

*  to  facrifice  them  to  her  vengeance,  her  tendernefs  revives;  the  .dagger 

*  falls  from  her  hands,   /he  is  not  able  to  perpetrate    the  crime  fhe 

*  had  meditated,  which  occafioned  a  furprife  as  lively  as  it  was  unex- 
'  pecfted.'  I  have  quoted  this  from  the  work  of  an  nnonymous  French 
■writer,  entitled  Principes  pour  la  Lecture  des  Poetes.  If  the 
French  poet  has  taJcen  this  liberty  with  the  fable  of  Medea,  and  trans- 
ferred it  from  the  fecond  fpecies  to  the  firft,  an  eminent  writer  of  our  own 
has  chofen  to  give  the  fable  of  QEdipus,  or  at  leafl  the  moft  difgufting, 
if  not  the  moft  tragic  part  of  it,  with  heightened  circiimflances  and 
another  name,  the  form  of  an  intentional  perpetration.  I  mean  the 
printed,  though  unpublifhed  tragedy,  of  the  Mysterious  Mother. 
If  as  Ariftotle,  and  after  him  Horace  aflert,  the  poet  to  affect  others 
muft  put  himfelf  into  the  fituation  of  his  character,  one  would  wonder 
how  fuch  a  work  could  be  [o]  the  produftion  of  the  elegant  and  humane 
author  to  whom  it  is  afcribed.  I  cannot  however  here  avoid  the  men- 
tion of  one  of  the  fineft  poffible  dramatic  effecfts  that  it  contains ;  which 
though  a  natural  event,  has  all  the  force  and  the  appearance  of  a  ma- 

[d]  One  of  the  reafons  given  by  Plato  in  his  Republic,  1.  iii.  for  baniihing  the  poets 
from  his  commonwealth  is,  becaufe  from  putting  themfelves  often  in  the  fituations  of  vicious 
men,  whofe  fentiments  they  want  to  exprefs,  they  will  in  time  be  apt  to  acquire  thofe  man- 
ners which  they  are  fo  often  in  the  habit  of  imitating.  I  believe  this  obfervation  is  more  in- 
genious than  true.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  fee  the  poetical  and  natural  charaiSler 
of  the  fame  perfon  perfedtly  at  variance  with  each  other.  The  gloomy  genius  of  Young's 
mufe  was  not  confined  to  his  Night  Thoughts,  it  is  ftrongly  to  be  traced  through  all  his  tra- 
gedies ;  and  yet  he  is  faid  to  have  been  a  very  chearful  man,  and  to  have  actually  been  the 
iirft  to  fet  on  foot  an  aflembly  at  Welwyn,  in  Hertfordfliire,  where  he  refided. 

P  P  2  chine. 


292  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chaf.  xir. 

chine.  1  mean  when  the  prieft  is  opening  to  his  colleague  his  horrid 
fcheme,  and  his  determination  to  perfift  in  it,  the  fudden  interruption  by 
a  voice  from  within  crying,  '  Forbear  !'  which  ftrikes  even  fuch  a  cha- 
racfter  with  horror,  till  the  repetition  of  it  fliews  both  him  and  the  fpec- 
tators,  that  it  is  only  the  firft  word  of  a  choral  hymn,  fung  behind  th& 
fcenes.. 

As  the  firft  and  iecond  modes  are  exadly  alike  in  the  courie  of  the 
fable,  fo  are  the  third  and  fourth,  and  only  diftinguifhed  by  the  cataf- 
trophe..  The  principal  obfervations  therefore  as  to  the  comparative 
merit  of  thefe  forms  muft  relate  to  the  cataftrophe,  which  will  neceffa- 
rily  involve  in  them  thofe  circumftanses  in  which  they  agree. 

The  firfl  thing  that  ftrikes  us  here  is  the  feeming  contradicftion  in  the 
opinion  of  the  critic,  who  apparently  gives  the  preference,  and  that  in 
a  very  ftrong  expreffion,  to  that  cataftrophe  which  feems  only  to  differ 
from  the  other  in  terminating  in  happinefs  inftead  of  diftrefs.  His 
opinion  on  that  point  has  not  only  been  decidedly  given  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  but  even  in  this ;  for  he  does  not  blame  the  cataftrophe  in  the 
firft  form  becaufe  it  is  brought  about  by  improbable  means,  but  becaufe 
it  is  not  tragical.. 

Many  have  been  the  labors  of  critics,  and  tranflators,  to  clear  up  this- 
point,  and  reconcile  the  oppofite  dodlrines.  But  I  own  I  think  none 
of  them  fatisfadory.  Some  of  thefe  I  flaall  ftate  which  appear  the  moft 
plaufible,  at  the  fame  time  mentioning  my  own  objections  to  them. 
But  while  I  confefs  this  general  diflatisfadion,  as  to  all  that  the  fearches 
of  others,  or  my  own  reafon  can  fuggeft  on  this  fubjed,  my  opinion  is 
inclined  to  that  of  M,  Lefting,  though  I  do  not  entirely  fubfcribe  to 

his 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  293 

his  folution  of  the  difficulty.  That  ingenious  and  candid  critic,  after 
mentioning  a  fellow-countryman,  Mr.  Curtius,  who  declares  it  to  be  his 
idea  that  Ariftotle  has  not  treated  this  article  with  his  ufual  exadlnefs, 
proceeds   thus :    '   I   own    this    does  not  appear  probable    to   me.     A 

*  writer  like  Ariftotle  is  fcarcely  liable  to  fuch  flagrant  contradiction ; 

*  when  therefore  I  find  the  appearance  of  it  in  the  works  of  fuch  a  man, 

*  I  diftruft  my  own  judgment  rather  than  his.     I  redouble  my  attention  j 

*  I  read  the  paffiige  ten  times  ;  and  I  am  not  able  to  perfuade  myfelf  he 

*  can  have  contradidled  what  he  has  formerly  aflerted  till  after  I  have 

*  examined,  through  all  the  combination  of  his  fyfteni,  Luw  und  uawhnf 

*  account  he  could  be  drawn  into  that  contradiftion  ;  and  if  I  do  not 

*  find  any  thing  that  gave  rife  to  it,   and  which  muft  in  ibme  meafure 

*  have  rendered  it  inevitable,.  I  am  convinced  it  is  only  apparent,  for 

*  otherwife  it  muft  have  occurred  to  Ariliotle,   who  had  fo  often  exa- 

*  mined  his  matter  with  more  attention  than  I  can  poflibly  have  done, 
*■  who  enter  newly  on  the  fubjedl  and  chufe  him  for  my  guide  [e].' 
Juft  as  this  reafoning  is  in  general,  it  is  not  however  abfolutely  conclur- 
five,  and  efpecially  the  laft  fentence.  Though  a  man  muft  know  his 
own  meaning  better  than  another,  it  does  not  follow  that  he  fhall  have 
formed  a  regular  chain  of  caufes  and  confequences  in  a  [f]  hafty  fketch, 
which  I  conceive  this  piece  to  be,  and  not  a  finiflied  vi'ork.  Or  even  if 
it  was,  who  has  ever  yet  formed  a  compofition  in  which  it  is  impoffible 
for  criticifm  to  find  a  fingle  inaccuracy  ?  On  this  ground  we  may  fup- 
pofe,  (I  hazard  it  merely  as  a  conjedlure,)  that  the  philofopher  who  has 
mentioned  the  [g]  intent  to  kill  as  equivalent  to  the  acSual  execution  of 
that  intent,  in  examining  the  fubjedt  farther,  and  being  inquifitive  after 


[e]  Dramaturgic,  Parti,  page  178.  £f]  See  preface. 


truth. 


294  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiv. 

truth,  and  not  fupporting  an  h3^pothefis,  without  confidering  exadlly 
what  he  had  faid  before,  might  be  led  to  remark,  that  if  the  tragic 
efFed:  was  carried  to  the  greateft  height,  and  the  diltrefsful  cataftrophe 
feemed  inevitable,  it  was  better  to  avoid  the  commiflion  of  a  deed  too 
[h]  fliocking  for  reprefentation,  even  through  ignorance  of  the  relation, 
though  the  confequence  fliould  be,  a  cataflrophe  accompanied  by  a 
change  from  mifery  to  happinefs.  This  in  fail,  had  the  treatife  been 
compleat,  might  have  been  fo  explained  as  to  have  been  no  contradic- 
tion to  his  former  decifion  ;  for  it  by  no  means  follows  that  what  is  in 
gencial  picferable  muft  abfolutely  and  invariably  be  fo  in  every  cafe,  and 
under  all  poffible  circumftances  [i]. 

M.  Batteux  tries  to  vindicate  Ariflotle  on  the  fuppofition  that  he  does 
not  mean  the  beft  manner  in  general,  but  the  beft  of  thefe  four  modes  ; 
forgetting  that  he  has  faid  there  are  no  other  modes  except  thefe  four, 
and  that  he  is  pointing  out  the  beft  way  of  conducing  properly  a  tragic 
fable. 

Dacier  takes  up  partly  the  fame  idea,  that  Ariftotle  is  not  fpeaking 
of  fable  in  general,  but  only  giving  direftions  how  to  manage  atrocious 

[i]  See  Mr-  Twining's  note  io6,  who  defends  Ariftotle  exadlly  on  this  principle,  fuppofing 
him  to  fay,  '  When  the  circumftances  of  the  traditional  ftory  from  which  the  poet  takes  his 
'  plot,  are  fuch  as  leave  him  only  the  alternative  either  of  difgufting  and  ftjocking  the  fpec- 
'  tator,  or  of  gratifying  his  wifties,  the  latter  is  clearly  to  be  preferred,  and  the  J'ittX^  o-uraa-if 
•  to  which  I  afligned  the  fccond  place,  will  in  that  particular  cafe  deferve  the  firft.'  But  is 
not  this  idea  both  of  Mr.  Twining  and  myfelf  rather  a  juftification  of  Ariftotle's  fuppofed 
opinion  in  this  place  than  a  reconciliation  of  it  with  his  former  decifion,  fince  he  is  certainly 
fpeaking  of  the  general  conftruftion  of  tragic  fable,  and  not  of  particular  exceptions  ? 

adtions 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  295 

aftlons  properly,  without  changing  the  effential  part  of  the  fable. 
When,  for  inftance,  the  murder  cf  CI3  temneftra  by  Oreftes  is  fixed  on 
for  the  fubjedl  of  a  tragedy,  we  fliould  examine  Vv^hich  arrangement 
would  fuit  it  beft.  The  firft  M-ill  not  fuit  it  as  being  too  atrocious  and 
effentially  altering  the  ftory  j  the  fecond,  (which  is  the  real  fad:  by  the 
way,  and  v.'hich  the  three  [k]  Greek  tragic  poets  that  remain  to  us  have 
adopted)  will  be  too  horrible ;  the  fourth  would  entirely  deftroy  the  re- 
ceived fable ;  therefore  the  third  only  remains.  But  would  not  the  fable 
be  equally  deftroyed  by  this ;  and  is  it  not  an  ellential  part  of  the  ftory 
that  Oreftes  does  not  kill  his  mother  by  accident,  but  to  revenge  his 
father's  death  ?  It  is  true  fuch  an  alteration  is  faid  to  be  made  in  the 
tragedy  of  Eriphyle,  but  as  we  have  no  circumftantial  account  of  that 
ftory,  or  do  not  know  with  what  variation  it  may  have  been  related,  or 
have  any  remains  of  the  tragedy,  we  can  only  fay  that  it  does  not  feem 
to  fall  exadlly  under  the  fame  predicament  with  the  ftory  of  Oreftes  and 
Clytemneftra,  which  is  recorded  by  Homer  [l]  as  well  as  the  three' 
principal  ornaments  of  the  Grecian  tragic  drama.  It  would  however 
have  been  on  this  account  a  much  better  example  for  Dacier  to  have 
chofen. 

M.  Leffing,  immediately  after  the  paffage  I  have  quoted  from  him, 
undertakes  the  defence  of  Ariftotle  on  another  ground.  He  argues  that 
the  afFedling  part  of  the  tragedy  arifmg  from  peripetia  and  difccvery  are 
diftinct  things  from  the  cataftrophe ;  and  that  they  often  happsn  prior 
to  it :  as,  for  inftance,  in  the  fourth  a<5l  of  the  CEdipus  :  as  alfo  in  the 
Iphigenia  in  Tauris  of  Euripides,  and  the  very  tragedy  he  is  criticifmg, 

[k]  In  the  Choephori  of  iTlfchylus,  and  the  Eleftra  of  Euripides  and  Sophocles. 

[l]  Homer  does  indeed  mention  Eriphyle,  but  in  a  very  curfory  manner. 

the 


296  A  COxMxMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xiv. 

the  Merope  of  Voltaire  and  Maffei,     M.  Leffing  then  adds,  *  That  it 

*  is  eafy  to  fliew  in  the  fubjedl  of  Merope  itfelf,  how  perfeftly  it  is 
'  pofTible  in  the  fame  fable  to  combine  the  moft  tragical  [m]  peripetia 

*  with  the  moft  tragical  pathos.     We   find   indeed  the  laft,  but  what 

*  hinders  us  alfo  from  having  the  firft  ?     Suppofe,  for  example,  after 

*  having  difcovered  her  fon  before  flie  killed  him,  flie  had  occafioned 
'  afterwards  either  his  death,  or  her  own,  by  her  zeal  to  protedl  him 

*  againft  Polyphontes.  Why  might  not  this  piece  terminate  as  well  by 
'  the  death  of  the  mother  as  of  the  tyrant  ?  Why  might  not  the  poet 
'  be  permitted  to  carry  our  pity  for  a  moft  affedlionate  mother  to  the 
'  higheft  degree,  and  then  make  her  perifh  through  that  very  afFedlion, 

*  or  to  caufe  the  fon  to  fall  by  the  artifice  of  the  tyrant  after  having 
'  efcaped  the  vengeance  of  his  mother  ?  Would  not  fuch  a  Merope  unite 

*  in  effeft  the  two  properties  of  the  beft  form  of  tragedy   which  the 

*  critics  have  found  fo  contradictory  ?'  As  to  the  former  part  of  the 
queftion  the  anfwer  is  obvious.  That  the  difcovery  of  the  fon  in  Me- 
rope, and  the  brother  in  Iphigenia  in  Tauris  comprehends  peripetia  as  well 
as  pathos  there  cannot  be  a  doubt.  And  a  poet  may,  if  he  pleafes,  intro- 
duce two  or  ten  peripetias  in  the  courfe  of  his  drama,  alternately  counteradl- 
ing  the  efi"e(5t  of  each  other.  But  that  after  giving  a  very  ftrong  and  pathetic 
peripetia  tending  to  happinefs,  the  addition  of  a  diftrefsful  cataftrophe 
would  unite  two  beauties  fuppofed  to  be  incompatible,  is  fo  fi ir  from  the 
cafe  that  it  muft  deftroy  the  effed:  of  both.     It  is  indeed  an  arrange- 


[m]  It  Is  aliold  ftep  to  render  xpaTJj-o',  by  moft  tragical.  In  the  ufe  of  this  word,  as  in 
many  others,  the  figurative  fenfe  is  more  familiar  than  the  direft  one ;  moft  tragical  is  not 
fynonymous  with  beft  fitted  for  tj-agcdy.  Were  I  to  fay  the  pathos  ot  Merope  is  more 
according  to  the  proper  rule  of  tragedy  than  QEdipus,  but  the  cataftrophe  is  not  fo  tragical,  I 
think  the  diflinft  meaning  of  each  would  be  clearly  underftood,  however  improper  it  might 
be  to  oppofe  them  to  each  other  in  the  fame  fentence. 

ment 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  297 

merit  of  fable  that  I  believe  no  poet  has  ever  yet  attempted,  and  which 
I  believe,  if  it  were  attempted,  no  audience  would  endure.^ 

As  to  the  new  cataftrophe  propofed  for  Merope,  (which  if  Euripides 
had  chofen  it  for  his  Crefphontes  would  have  been  diredlly  in  oppofitioa 
to  the  rule  of  Ariftotle,  as  to  deviating  from  received  fables,)  it  is 
exadlly  that  of  Douglas,  who  abfolutely  periflies  from  his  mother's  too 
earneft  anxiety  for  his  prefervation ;  but  there  is  no  previous  happy  peri- 
petia. Lady  Randolph's  finding  a  fon  fhe  imagined  had  periflied  when  an 
infant  by  accident  is  nothing  like  the  circumftance  in  Merope.  As  for 
the  difcovery  and  peripetia  in  [n]  the  CEdipus  fo  long  before  the  cataf- 
trophe,  it  has  all  the  weight  that  an  error  in  a  great  writer  ought  to 
have  in  juftifying  fucceeding  poets  for  copying  his  blemiflies,  if  they  are 
rrot  able  to  imitate  his  excellencies.  It  mufl  be  remembered  [o]  alfo 
that  Ariftotle  recommends  that  fpecies  of  tragedy  where  the  peripetia 
and  difcovery  are  united,  and  that  he  exprefsly  fays  the  difcovery  is  a 
tranfition  from  ignorance  to  knowledge,  producing  either  friendfhip  or 
hatred,  in  the  charadlers  as  they  are  defigned  for  happinefs  or  mifery ; 
that  is,  in  other  words,  occafioning  the  cataftrophe.  In  the  Iphigenia 
in  Tauris  indeed,  the  difficulty  and  diftrefs  continue  after  the  difcovery 
as  they  do  in  the  modern  tragedies  of  Merope.  Of  the  Helle  we  know" 
nothing.  But  I  cannot  be  perfuaded  that  the  fcene  in  Merope.  of  Euri- 
pides, the  effedl  of  which  is  fo  highly  fpoken  of,  could  be  in  any  other- 
place  than  the  cataftrophe.. 

M.  Leffing  is  very  fevere  on  Voltaire  for  his  mifreprefentation   of 
Ariftotle  in  his  epiftle  to  Maffei,  wherein  he  afTerts  that  the  philofopher 

[n]  See  Note  i.  Chap.  vii.  [o]  See  Poetic,  Chap.  xr. 

Q^q.  *  does 


29.8.  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  xivw 

*  does  not  fcruple  to  call  the  recognition  of  Merope  and  her  fon  the 
«  moft  interefting  moment  of  the  Greek  fcene.'  Here  Voltaire  has  un- 
doubtedly been  guilty  of  a  miftake,  either  wilfully  or  accidentally. 
Ariftotle  fays  no  fuch  thing.  But  that  it  was  highly  interefting  indeed, 
we  have  the  authority  of  Plutarch,  who  muft  have  been  a  better  judge 
than  any  modern  can  poffibly  be.     '  Behold,'  he  fays,  *  Merope  in  the 

*  tragedy,  lifting  the  axe  over  her  fon  as  fuppofing  him  the  murderer  of 
'  that  fon,  and  faying, 

**  This  arm  to  thee  a  jufter  wound  fhall  give." 

*  What  a  confulion  it  occafions  among  the  audience,    who  ftart  up 

*  through  terror  and  anxiety,  left  flie  fliould  anticipate  the  arrival  of  the 

*  old  man  and  ftrike  the  youth  [p].'  Such  was  exadly  what  I  felt  the 
iirft  time  I  faw  the  reprefentation  of  King  Lear,  the  alteration  of  which 
I  had  neyer  previoufly  read. 

Why  Maifei  and  Voltaire,  who  were  at  liberty  to  have  aded  as  they 
pleafed  in  this  refpeit,  chofe  to  infert  this  interefting  fcene  in  the  middle 
of  the  piece  rather  than  in  the  cataftrophe,  I  cannot  determine.  It 
could  not  be  from  any  difficulty  in  arranging  the  mode.  It  appears  from 
Plutarch  that  Merope  is  going  to  deftroy  her  fon  with  an  axe,  and  with 
an  axe  of  facrifice  Voltaire  makes  the  tyrant  fall  at  the  altar ;  the  two 
events  therefore  of  the  difcovery  of  the  young  man  and  the  death  of 
Polyphontes,  might  have  happened  almoft  at  the  fame  moment.  Perhaps 
the  choice  of  the  pLn  they  adopted  was  influenced  by  a  defire  of  imi- 
tating the  arrangement  of  Ariftotle's  other  example,  the  Iphigenia  iu 
Tauiis.     But  without  applying  to  authority  our  own- feelings  will  con - 

[p]  Plutarch  Tiif]  lupHOip, 

vincc 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  299 

vince  us  the  efFedl  of  the  two  fcenes  mufl:  be  very  different  in  point  of 
intereft.  We  can  never  be  affedled  in  the  fame  manner  by  a  virgin 
prieflefs,  who  is  in  the  habit  of  facrificing  innocent  ftrangers  to  Diana, 
and  a  mother  frantic  to  revenge  the  death  of  a  beloved  fon  on  his  fuppofed 
murderer. 

Perhaps  we  may  impute  this  to  another  caufe,  the  difficulty  of  keeping 
up  through  five  adls,  an  intereft  in  a  fituation  fo  little  affecting  as  the 
wifli  to  kill  a  fuppofed  criminal,  neither  connedled  by  friendfliip  or 
blood.  But  the  poet  might  have  fupplied  this,  and  made  the  agitation 
of  the  fpediator  compenfate  for  the  deficiency  of  it  in  the  charadler,  by 
informing  him  of  the  real  connexion  of  Merope  and  the  young  man, 
which  muft  obvioufly  have  been  the  cafe  in  the  Greek  tragedy  men- 
tioned by  Plutarch.  It  is  true  when  the  difcovery  is  made  at  the  fame 
time  to  the  fpedlator  and  the  character,  the  imprefTion  on  the  feelings 
is  greatly  increafed ;  but  the  effedl  of  fuch  a  difcovery  is  weakened  after 
the  firft  reprefentation  [q^].^ 

The  difcovery  of  Ion  in  a  tragedy  of  Euripides,  imitated  by  Mr. 
Whitehead  in  his  Creufa,  feems  to  me  in  the  original,  the  moft  per- 
fed:ly  affedling  and  furprifing  of  any  extant,  either  ancient  or  modern. 
To  ufe  the  words  of  the  Jefuit  Poree,  which  I  cite  from  Mr.  Mafon's 
Life  of  Whitehead,  prefixed  to  die  third  volume  of  his  works.  *  In 
*•  fpite  of  all  the  faults  either  real  or  apparent  that  may  be  found  in  this 
'  piece,  nothing  can  be  conceived  more  perfedlly  theatrical  than  the 
*  reprefentation  of  a  mother  on  the  point  of  killing  her  unknown  fon, 
*■  and  at  the  fame  time  of  dying  unknown  by  his  hands,   when  at  the 

[q^]  See  Dramaturgic,  Part  l.  p.         and  Note  vi.  Chap.  xvi.  and  Note  ii.  Chap.  xi. 

C^q  2  *  fame 


3G0  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiv. 

*  fame  time  this  double  projedl  of  parricide  ferves  to  reftore  the  fon  to 

*  his  mother  and  the  mother  to  her  fon.'  Perfeftly  agreeing  as  I  do 
with  Mr.  Mafon  in  applauding  the  great  fkill  of  the  Englifli  poet  in  the 
general  improvement  he  has  made  of  this  tragedy  in  his  Creufa,  I  muft 
with  him  wifh  he  had  not  deviated  fo  much  from  Euripides  in  the  cataf- 
trophe.  to  which  I  fuppofe  he  was  induced  by  a  defire  to  adhere  to  the 
precept  of  Ariftotle  laid  down  in  the  lafl  chapter,  and  to  render  more 
tragical  that  poet  whom  he  had  declared  the  moft  tragical  of  the  Greek 
ilramatic  writers. 

On  examining  this  paffage  and  the  context  with  attention,  we  may 
poffibly  find  at  lafl  that  every  attempt  to  reconcile  Ariftotle  with  his 
.own  reafoning  even  here,  is  perfedly  impoffible,  fuppofing  him  really 
to  give  the  preference  to  the  laft  arrangement.  It  will  be  in  vain  to 
excufe  fuch  a  preference  on  any  partial  ground,  fuch  as  that  though  it 
might  not  be  the  beft  general  form,  it  may  become  fo  in  certain  in- 
flances,  or  in  fome  particular  parts  of  the  drama.  Since  he  declares  it 
not  to  be  fo  when  compared  with  the  other  forms,  on  thofe  very  prin- 
ciples from  which  he  decides  on  their  merit ;  and  that  not  in  a  different 
part  of  the  work  but  in  this  identical  place.  The  lirft  form  he  totally 
rejedts  becaufe  difguftful  from  the  atrocious  defign,  and  yet  not  produc- 
tive of  tragic  effedl  as  no  one  fuffers.  Why  he  gives  the  preference 
over  this  to  the  next  he  does  not  mention,  but  the  reafon  is  clear,  for 
though  he  cenfures  it  on  account  of  the  difgufl  ariling  from  the  atroci- 
oufnefs  of  the  defign,  it  has  yet  the  tragic  effedl  he  requires.  The  third 
fpecies  he  tells  us  in  exprefs  terms  is  free  from  the  difgufl  occafioned  by 
a  wilful  criminal  intent,  and  befides  this  will  have  the  interefl  arifing 
from  an  unexpeded  difcovery,  which  is  an  advantage  the  other  two  do 
not  pofTefs.     But  befides  this  advantage  over  the  other  two  it  will  pofTefs 

the 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  301 

the  tragic  effe(5l  of  the  fecond.  The  laft  mode  will  poffefs  the  radical 
advantage  of  avoiding  the  criminal  intent,  and  the  adventitious  one  of 
the  unexpedled  difcovery.  But  it  will  be  deficient  in  the  radical  advan- 
tage of  producing  tragic  efFedl  from  perfonal  fufFering,  which  he  is  hece 
infifting  on,  and  in  which  the  third  mode  is  not  deficient ;  and  there- 
fore Ariftotle  cannot  give  the  preference  to  the  fourth  mode  without 
forfaking  the  very  ground  on  which  he  is  abfolutely  then  arguing. 

But  let  us  go  a  little  back.  When  Ariftotle  firft  explains  what  he 
means  by  a  (kilful  arrangement  of  the  fable  he  names  only  two  modes. 
The  moft  obvious  one,  and  what  was  generally  praftifed  by  the  older 
writers,  was  the  fimple  perpetration  of  fome  great  crime,  not  indeed 
through  radical  depravity  but  through  paffion,  knowing  the  fituation  of 
the  perfons  who  were  the  objects  of  it ;  like  the  Medea  of  Euripides. 
To  this  however  has  been  difcovered  an  improvement  which  will  obviate 
any  difguft  arifing  from  the  intentional  crime,  by  making  the  character 
ignorant  of  the  connexion  of  the  perfon  who  is  the  objed;  of  his  ven- 
geance with  himfelf.  He  now  recolledls  a  third  mode  befides,  but 
which  feems  to  be  only  fuggefted  by  his  mention  of  the  other  two,  as 
that  which  he  abfolutely  condemns  appears  to  be  brought  to  his  mind 
by  the  enumeration  of  the  four  only  poflible  forms  which  arifes  from 
the  cafual  recolledion  of  this. 

If  thefe  obfervations  are  right  how  flial!  we  juftify  the  approbation 
that  Ariftotle  gives  to  the  laft  mode  ?  But  has  he  given  fuch  approba- 
tion ?  It  will  be  a  little  fingular  if  after  the  cenfure  M.  Lefling  has 
beftowed  on  Voltaire  with  no  niggardly  hand,  for  the  hyperbolical  eulo- 
gium  he  beftows  on  this  fcene  in  Merope,  that  the  pen  of  the  French 

poet. 


302  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiv. 

poet  [r],  like  the  random  pencil  of  Apelles,  fhould  have  at  once  done 
what  fo  much  fkill  and  pains  had  been  in  vain  employed  to  do,  and  that 
he  fhould  have  given,  though  with  fome  exaggeration  indeed,  the  true 
meaning  of  Ariftotle,  which  at  once  folves  every  difficulty,  and  reftores 
the  confiftency  of  his  theatrical  dodrine. 

Let  us  confider  the  force  of  the  word  x^xTtg-og,  and  its  fituation  here. 
The  primary  fenfe  of  this  word,  as  given  by  all  the  lexicographers,  as 
confirmed  by  a  thoufand  pafTages  from  ancient  writers,  and  in  conformity 
to  its  derivation,  is  [s]  most  powerful.  Why  the  commentators  and 
tranflators  have  univerfally  chofen  to  give  it  here  the  general  fenfe  of 
BEST  I  can  fee  no  caufe  but  from  its  immediately  following  BeXnov,  the 
ve'ry  reafon  as  I  fhould  conceive  that  would  have  made  againfl  that  fenfe 
of  the  word.  For  I  believe  it  is  very  unufual  in  comparifon  of  adjec- 
tives to  mention  one  word  in  the  pofitive,  another  in  the  comparative, 
and  another  in  the  fuperlative  degree,  yet  all  in  the  fame  fenfe.  Stephens 
in  his  Lexicon,  on  the  word  jc^xn^ag,  after  giving  many  inftances  of  its 
fignifying  most    strong   and  most  powerful,  adds,  '  that  it  is 

*  fometimes  more  conveniently  rendered  by  best,  even  in  fome  of  the 

*  places  that  he  has  cited.'  The  fame  thing  may  certainly  be  faid  of 
MOST  STRONG  Or  MOST  POWERFUL,  in  our  own  language,  or  of  for- 
tissimus  or  validissimus,  or  viribus  pr-«;stans,  in  Latin;  but 
I  do  not  think  they  could  well  be  confidered  as  the  proper  fuperlative . 
of  BETTER  or  MELioR.  Were  I  to  fay  fuch  a  thing  is  better  than 
another,  but  a  third  has  the  flrongefl  effedt,  the  fuperlative  ftrongefl 

'[r]  I  imagine  Volta?re  was  no  Greek  fcholar». 

[s]  I  have  in  this  edition  of  my  tranllation  ventured  to  tranUate  it,  '  having  the  molt 

*  powerful  cfFeft.! 

muft 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  |©| 

mufl:  be  taken  generally  as  far  as  that  particular  quality  goesy  and  not  as 
the  fuperlative  of  better;  though  if  ftrength  of  effedl  were  the  quality 
on  which  the  merit  of  the  fubjedl  depended,  it  would  certainly  imply 
it.  The  fame  will  hold  in  Latin.  *  Melius  eft  ignarum  fecifle,  fac- 
*  tumque  agnoviffe,  fortiflimum  vero,  poftremum.'  Could  there  be  iii 
this  cafe  any  reafon  for  fuppofing  fortissimum  could  poffibly  be  con- 
fideredas  tlie  fuperlative  of  melius  ? 

It  feems  very  natural  for  Ariflotle,  after  having  mentioned  the  two 
modes  he  moll  approved  as  having  the  proper  pathos  in  the  cataftrophe, 
and  given  the  preference  to  the  latter  as  avoiding  a  fault  incident  to  the 
former,    the  wilful  perfeverance    in    an  atrocious  crime,    knowing  it 
to  be  fo,  and  pofTelTing  befides  a  flriking  difcovery,  to  refle<fl:  on  the 
inflant  that  one  of  the  forms  he  had  been  condemning  poflefled  this  laft 
in  a  more  extraordinary  manner,    as  being  capable  of  producing  the 
ftrongeft  dramatic  effedt  pofTible,  which  is  by  no  means  an  hyperbolical 
tranflation  of  ^drigo!;,  fuppofing  it  to  be  applied  in  this  manner.    Surely 
then  there  is  no  inconfiftency  in  relating  a  fa<ft,  however  it  may  make 
againft  his  own  hypothefis,  and  that  it  muft  have  been  a  fadl  is  obvious. 
Ariftotle  in  the  laft  chapter  ftiews  the  great  predilection  of  an  Athe- 
nian audience  for  the  happy  cataftrophe  :  and  Plutarch  bears  a  ftrong 
teftimony  to  the  efFcd:  of  the  fcene  between  Merope  and  her  fon ;  and 
our  own  feelings  will  juftify  this.     There  is  alfo  another  reafon  befides 
the  gratification  of  our  feelings  why  the  happy  difcovery  and  peripetia  muft 
be  more  ftriking  than  the  unhappy  one.     The  reverfe  of  fortune  muft  be 
forefeen,  or  at  leaft  fufpedted  in  the  tragedy  ending  in  diftrefs,  or  the  body 
of  the  drama  muft  be  deficient  both  in  incident  and  intereft  :  but  the  more 
the  tragedy  of  the  other  form  is  filled  with  diftrefs,  the  more  imminent  and 

inevitable 


304  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiv. 

inevitable  the  fatal  conclufion  appears ;  the  ftronger  will  the  tragic  effed 
be  throughout  the  courfe  of  the  drama,  and  the  force  of  the  peripetia 
and  difcovery  more  violent  in  proportion  as  they  are  unexpedled  and 
fudden  ;  and  they  cannot  be  too  much  fo  if  they  do  not  exceed  the. 
bounds  of  probability.  I  do  not  recoiled  any  tragedy  ending  unhappily^ 
in  which  the  peripetia  is  not  either  mifery  added  to  former  fnffering,  or 
the  accomplifhment  of  the  expedation  of  it ;  as  in  the  CEdipus,.  the  Fatal 
Marriage,  and  Douglas.  I  have  already  mentioned  the  effed  of  the  fcene 
in  Tate's  King  Lear.  Shakefpear  tried  to  create  a  peripetia  of  an  oppofite 
kind,  by  raifing  our  expedation  of  both  Cordelia  and  Lear's  fafety  through 
the  interference  of  the  dying  Edmund.  Perhaps  this  example  m.ay  give  a 
full  explanation  of  Ariftotle's  ufe  of  K^angog.  We  will  fuppofe  him 
reafoning  on  the  alteration  of  Shakefpear's  Lear  with  all  his  prejudice  in 
favour  of  the   unhappy   ca.ta{lrophe.      '  I  will  allow,'   he  might  fay,* 

*  that  Tate,  though  an  inferior  poet,  has  by  a  fmalt  and  probable  change 
'  introduced  a  moft  ftriking  and  affeding  fituation ;   we   are   at  once 

*  anxious  for  the  event,  and  delighted-  with  its  accomplifhment ;  it  is 

*  the  flrongeil,  the  moft  violent  ftroke  of  theatrical  effed  I  know ;  I 
'  do  not  hefitate  to  fay  it  is  the  moft  interefting  moment  of  the  Englifli 
'  ftage^  but  it  is  not  tragic  ^  it  does  not  poflefs  that  pathos,  thofe 
'  means  of  exciting  pity  and  terror,  which  are  the  proper  objeds  of  the 
'  tragic  drama.  We  do  not  exped  from  tragedy  the  pleafure  arifing  from 
'  furprize,  and  affeding  fituation,  which  are  momentary,  but  to  have  our 
'  paflions  excited,  and  at  the  fame  timefoftened  by  continual  and  lafting 

*  impreflions  of  terror  and  diftrefs ;  and  every  fort  of  pleafure  is  not  to 

*  be  expeded  from  tragedy,  but  only  that  which  is  proper  and  peculiar- 

*  to  itfelf.' 

Perhaps 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  305 

Perhaps  the  reader,  who  recolledls  what  I  have  faid  on  this  fubjedt  in 
[t]  another  place,  may  think  I  am  defending  Ariflotle's  confiftency  at 
the  expence  of  my  own.  But  he  will  obferve  I  am  delivering  what  I 
think  would  be  his  opinion,  and  not  mine. 

I  muft  acknowledge  that  I  owe  the  firft  hint  of  this  folution  to  the 
[u]  Cambridge  edition  of  the  Poetic,  Mr.  Cooke  having  rendered 
K^uTtg-ov,  '  Quod  maxime  valet.'  And  he  has  the  following  note  on 
the  paffage.     *  What,  is  that  the  beft  form  of  adlion  which  he  mentions 

*  laft,  and  is  the  ftrudlure  of  the  fable  in  Crefphontes  to  be  preferred  to 

*  CEdipus  ?     Can  Ariftotle  diffent  fo  much  from  himfelf  ?     Or  rather  do 

*  the  interpreters  of  Ariftotle  diflent  fo  much  both  from  him  and  from 

*  truth  ?     Let  them  recolleit  that  third  form,  which  he  connedls  with 

*  the  preceding  ones  by  thefe  words  Irt  SI,  as  if  doubting  whether  he 
'  fliould  mention  them  at  all,  as  unfit  for  tragedy  though  adapted  to  the 
'  popular  tafte.  For  fuch  is  the  force  of  this  word  K^ *r<s-oi/.  J  x^aTsi  0  vikk, 
'   HAS  THE  VOGUE.     For  the   vulgar  indeed  applaud  that  flrudlure  of 

*  fable  for  the  caufes  already  given.     The  adion  of  Crefphontes,  coa- 

[t]  See  Note  vii.  Chap.  xiii. 

[u]  In  the  fame  volume  Mr.  Cooke  has  given  a  very  elegant  and  claffical  Greek  verfion  of 
Gray's  Elegy.     I  will  however  take  the  liberty  of  pointing  out  one  fault.     The  firft  line, 

'  The  Curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day,' 
is  rendered 

Nu^  ■srtPvH,  a^'  dv'  dypui  ZTvpni  nai'slai  s^'  dud  yM(AX^. 

Now  though  this  extinction  of  fire  is  faid  to  have  been  the  etymology  of  Curfew,  it  is  by  no 

means  the  confequence  of  it  now,  or  is  the  idea  at  all  intended  to  be  conveyed  either  by  Gray, 

or  by  Milton  in  the  II  Penferofb,  but  merely  the  found  of  the  evening  bell.     See  Chap.  xx. 

Note  IV. 

R  r  •  cerning 


3o6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xiv. 

*  cerning  which  Plutarch  has  handed  down  a  pleafant  fable,  is  deftitute 

*  of  all  tragic  force  becaufe  it  wants  pathos.' 

I  have  ventured  to  give  K^»Tie;ov  a  much  ftronger  meaning.  Indeed  I 
do  not  recoiled  fuch  a  ufe  of  the  word  as  Mr.  Cooke  fuggefts ;  but  if  I 
did  I  fliould  prefer  the  other,  as  I  think  Ariftotle  muft  have  allowed  the 
difcovery  in  Crefphontes  to  be  forcible,  as  well  as  fashionable ;  neither 
would  he,  nor  does  he,  treat  the  opinion  of  an  Athenian  audience  as  the 
fentiments  of  the  vulgar.  Nor  can  I  fee  why  an  illuftration  of  a  moral 
effedl,  in  a  grave  treatife  by  Plutarch,  drawn  mofl  probably  from  a  very 
familiar,  and  certainly  a  very  natural  example,  Ihould  be  confidered  as  a 
pleafant  fable  only. 


CHAP. 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  307 


CHAP.      XV, 

N  O  T  E     I. 

IN     FORMING    THE    MANNERS    FOUR    THINGS    ARE     TO    BE     AT- 
TENDED   TO. 

THE     FIRST     AND     MOST    ESSENTIAL    IS,     THAT    THEY    SHOULD^ 
BE    GOOD. 

Before  I  enter  on  the  particular  pafl'age  which  is  the  more  im- 
mediate fubjeft  of  this  note,  I  cannot  avoid  remarking  the  fuperiority  of 
the  dramatic  writer,  from  which  we  may  draw  our  examples,  to  any  that 
the  author  of  the  Poetic  could  have  recourfe  to.  In  regard  to  fable,  as 
Shakefpear  was  feldom  an  original  inventor,  fo  he  was  not  fcrupuloufly 
nice  in  his  choice ;  and  as  to  his  arrangement  of  thofe  fubjedts  which  he 
took  for  the  ground- work  of  his  dramas  fo  as  to  produce  the  beft  tragic 
effedt,  his  moft  fanguine  admirers  muft  allow  that  he  has  feldom  fludied 
it  much  in  the  general  condud  of  the  fable,  though  he  has  frequently 
done  it  in  particular  parts  j  and  wherever  he  has  done  it,  he  is,  as  in  every 
other  refpeft,  inimitable. 

But  in  painting  manners,  he  ftands  alone  and  unrivaled :  to  ufe  the 
words  of  the  author  of  the  effay  on  the  dramatic  charafter  of  Sir  John 
Falftaff,  *  The  reader  muft  be  fenfible  of  fomething  in  the  compoiition 
•■  of  Shakefpear's  charaders,  which  renders  them  elTentially  different 

Rr  2  '  from 


3o8  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

*  from  thofe  drawn  by  other  writers.     The  charadters  of  every  drama 

*  muft  indeed  be  grouped ;  but  in  the  groups  of  other  poets,  the  parts 
it  which  are  not  feen  do  not  in  fadt  exifl.  But  there  is  a  certain  round- 
=*/;nefs  and  integrity  in  the  forms  of  Shakefpear,  which  give  them  an  in- 
-V  dependence  as  well  as  a  relation,  infomuch  that  we  often  meet  with 

*  pafTages  which,  though  perfedtly  felt,  cannot  be  fufficiently  explained 

*  in  words,  without  unfolding  the  whole  charadler  of  the  fpeaker.'  See 
Note  on  the  Essay,  page  58,  of  which  I  have  only  quoted  a  fmall 
part,  the  whole  note  is  well  worth  the  perufal  of  every  admirer  of 
Shakefpear,  as  placing  his  fuperiority  in  the  delineation  of  manners  in 
the  clearefl  light.  Indeed,  to  recommend  that  original  and  convincing 
piece  of  criticifm  partially  is  doing  it  injuftice,  fmce  every  part  of  it  is 
replete  with  elegance  of  tafle  and  accurate  and  impartial  judgement. 

In  regard  to  the  [a]  Analyfis  of  the  charadter  of  Falflaff ;  though  I  firil; 
took  the  book  up  on  the  recommendation  of  a  friend,  it  was  with  the 
ftrongeft  prejudice  againfl  what  I  thought  an  indefenfible  paradox ;  yet 
every  word  led  to  convidtion ;  and  I  laid  it  down  with  the  firmefl:  affur- 
ance,  that  the  author  was  perfedlly  in  the  right.  I  have  fince  recom- 
mended the  perufal  of  it  to  feveral  of  my  friends,  who  have  all  opened 
it  with  the  fame  prejudice,  and  fhut  it  with  the  fame  convidtion.  That 
the  perufal  of  the  book  will  not  be  equally  convincing  to  all  I  can  eafily 
believe.     For,  to  ufe  the  words  of  the  author  (page  108),  '  How  many 

*  forts  of  men  are  there  whom  no  evidence  can  perfuade  !     How  many, 

*  who  ignorant  of  Shakefpear,  or  forgetful  of  the  text,  may  as  well  read 

*  heathen  Greek  or  the  laws  of  the  land  as  this  unfortunate  commentary! 

*  How  many  who,  proud  and  pedantic,  hate  all  novelty  and  damn  it 

[a]  See  Note  x.  Chap.  vii. 

*  without 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE. 


309 


'•without  mercy   under   one    compendious  word  [bJ  paradox  !     How 

*  many  more  who,  not  deriving  their  opinions  from  the  fovereignty  of 

*  reafon,   hold  at  the  will  of  fome  fuperior  lord,   to  whom  accident  or 
l.iinclination  has  attached  them,  and  who,  true  to  their  vaflalage,  are  re- 

*  folute  not  to  furrender,  without  exprefs  permilfion,  their  bafe  and  ill- 

*  gotten  poffeffions.' 

ilfifiWe  have  another  writer  alfo,  Henry  Fielding,  who  in  his  comic 
epopees,  is  a  moft  accurate  delineator  of  manners.  However  there  is 
one  diftindlion  between  him  and  Shakefpear,  which,  though  perhaps 
it  gives  his  pidlures  a  more  ftriking  efFedl,  renders  them  not  equal  in  real 
merit  to  thofe  of  our  great  dramatic  poet.  Shakefpear  paints  for  all  ages 
and  all  countries;  while  the  portraits  of  Fielding  are  generally  drawn  from 
local  and  national  circumflances  [c]. 

[b]  The  author  of  the  Dramatic  Mifcellany  feems  to  have  been  a  critic  of  this  defcription. 
He  fays  he  cannot  think  the  author  ferious  in  his  hypothefis.  One  of  the  proofs  (and  he  fays 
it  is  unqueftionable)  is  FalftafF  giving  an  additional  wound  to  Percy.  I  confefs  I  think  with 
the  author  of  the  Effay,  it  is  rather  indecent  than  cowardly. 

[c]  Dr.  Johnibn  fays,  '  There  is  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  the  characters  of 
'  Fielding  and  thofe  of  Richardfon.    Charaders  of  manners  are  very  entertaining ;  but  they  are  to 

*  beunderftoodjbyamorefuperficial  obferver,  than  charafters  of  nature,  where  a  man  muft  dive 

*  into  the  recefles  of  the  human  heart.'  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  Vol.i.  p.  299.  This  I 
think  would  be  a  very  juft  diftindllon  between  the  manners  of  Fielding  and  Shakefpear,  but  I 
cannot  allow  it  between  Fielding  and  Richardfon.  His  charadlers  can  never  be  drawn  natu- 
rally which  are  drawn  contrary  to  his  own  intention.  Richardfon  certainly  meant  Claiiffa  for 
a  perfect  character.     And  yet  Dr.  Johnfon  fays  of  her  in  another  place,  that  '  there  always 

*  appears  fomething  in  her  conduit  that  {he  prefers  to  truth ;'  and  he  adds,  '  that  Fielding's 

*  Amelia  is  the  moft  perfect  heroine  of  a  novel.'  Mrs.  Piozzi's  Letters.  In  Boswell's 
Life,  Vol,  i.  p.  342,  Johnfon  fays  he  read  Amelia  through  without  flopping. 

To 


^10  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xr.. 

To  return  to  the  particular  objedl  of  the  note.  The  meaning  of  the 
word  GOOD,  as  the  firft  efTential  of  tragic  manners,  has  been  a  caufe  of 
much  difference  of  opinion  among  the  tranflators  and  commentators  of 
the  Poetic.  If  we  confider  %fijs-«  here  in  its  ufual  and  obvious  fenfe  of 
morally  good,  the  paflage  is  neither  reconcilable  with  Ariilotle's  defini- 
tion of  the  proper  tragic  charadler  in  chap,  xiii,  nor  with  the  pradtice  of 
all  the  ferious  epic  and  dramatic  writers,  ancient  and  modern.  To  ftill 
greater  impropriety  fhall  we  be  driven,  if  we  take  up  the  opinion,  origi- 
nally I  believe  ftarted  by  Boffu,  and  fince  followed  by  Dacier,  Harris, 
and  Metaftafio ;  that  Ariftotle  by  %fi?ra  meant  manners  well  marked. 
So  ftrongly  expreffed,  as  to  fhew  clearly  what  the  charadler  is,  whether, 
good  or  bad.  For  fuch  a  quality,  fo  far  from  being  diftinguifhed  from, 
the  other  three  requifites,  is  effential  to  them  all.  Since,  whether  a 
charad:er  is  to  be  drawn  good,  or  proper,  or  like,  or  uniform,  it  certainly, 
ought  to  be  well  drawn,  and  ftrongly  marked.  In  fhort,  this  is  remov- 
ing the  epithet  from  the  charafter  of  the  manners  reprefented,  to  that 
of  the  mode  of  reprefenting  them,  and  is  nearly  equivalent  with  a  perfon 
who  in  laying  down  rules  for  compofing  a  good  poem,  fhould  begin  with, 
faying,  that  the  iirft  and  moil:  effential  rule  was,  that  the  poem  fhould 
be  good. 

But  I  think  Ariflotle  has  fufficlently  explained  his  meaning  in  feveral\ 
parts  of  this  treatife,  and  efpecially  in  the  begbning  of  the  fecond 
chapter  [d],  where  he  points  out  the  difference  as  to  manners  of  the 
gbjefts  of  tragic  and  comic  imitation  ;  the  firfl  of  which  only  he  is  now 
treating  of  particularly.  The  fame  idea  is,  I  conceive,  kept  up  with, 
regard  to  tragic  aftion ;  viz.  that  it  fliould  be  important,  in  the  fixth. 

[d]  See  Note  i.  Chap,  ii* 

chapter. 


NoTEi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  311 

chapter  [e],  and  in  the  thirteenth  as  to  charader  again,  when  we  arc 
told  that  illuflrious  men,  like  CEdipus  and  Thyeftes,  or  even  [f]  better 
characters  in  preference  to  worfe  are  the  proper  objedts  of  tragedy. 

Accordingly  we  find  this  rule  univerfally  adhered  to  in  all  ferious 
fables  whatever.  Macbeth  and  Richard  the  Third,  though  they  are  ob- 
jefts  of  our  deteftation,  never  excite  our  contempt  [g];  they  have  a  dig- 
nity, a  fuperiority  of  character  which  commands  our  refpedl,  while  their 
crimes  are  objedts  of  our  abhorrence.  In  this  refpedl  Milton  is  beyond 
all  praife  in  his  charadler  of  Satan  [h].  Though  I  by  no  means  put  him 
in  general  on  a  footing  with  Shakefpear  as  a  painter  of  manners,  yet  in 
this  fmgle  inftance  he  certainly  goes  beyond  him,  fmce  he  had  a  difficulty 
to  encounter,  which  muft  have  been  pronounced  infurmountable  if  he 
had  not  furmounted  it.  He  was  to  reprefent  a  being  not  the  creature 
of  his  own  imagination,  but  marked  by  the  moft  facred  authority  as  the 
abftraft  of  wickednefs  and  impiety,  in  fuch  colors  as  to  be  a  proper,  and 
yet  principal  epic  character;  and  this  he  has  done  in  fo  mafterly  a  manner, 
that  the  charad;er  of  Satan  alone  is  to  me  a  fufficient  illuftration  of  the 
meaning  of  Ariftotle  in  this  place,  and  the  proper  diftinftion  between  poetic 

[g]  In  Chap.  v.  Ariftotle  in  his  account  of  comedy  explains  what  he  means  by  '  worfe  per- 
fons,'  (ipauAoTEfwi')  not  fuch,  he  fays,  as  are  perfedly  depraved,  but  only  thofe  who  poflefs  that 
fpecies  of  turpitude  that  will  excite  ridicule.  Is  it  not  natural,  v/hen  he  is  fpeaking  of  that 
tragic  goodnefs  which  he  has  already  oppofed  to  this  comic  turpitude,  for  him  to  mean  not 
abfolute  goodnefs,  but  that  fpecies  of  it  only  which  is  proper  to  excite  refpsit. 

[h]  See  Beattie's  lUuftrations  on  Sublimity,  page  613;  and  Eflay  on  Poetry  and  Mufic, 
page  78. 

and 


312  4  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

and  moral  goodnefs ;  not  becaufe  the  charafter  is  well  marked,  for  that 
might  have  been  as  well  done  had  he  been  made  contemptible,  and  the 
manners  of  Belial  and  Mammon  are  as  capable  of  this  excellence  as  thofe 
of  Satan  ;  but  becaufe  he  never  lofes  our  refpedt,  nor  ever  appears  to  us 

*  lefs  than  archangel  ruined.' 

[i]  Perhaps  this  fubjedl  cannot  be  better  illuftrated  than  by  a  compa- 
rifon  between  the  fcene  in  the  Fatal  Curiofity  of  Lillo,  when  the  wife  is 
exciting  her  hulband  to  the  murder  of  the  fuppofed  ftranger  -,  and  the 
fcene  between  Macbeth  and  his  wife.  According  to  Mr.  Harris,  the 
manners  in  both  are  equally  good  poetically  though  not  morally ;  '  Be- 

*  caufe  it  is  natural  fuch  a  wife  fhould  perfuade,  and  fuch  a  hufband  be 
'  perfuaded ;  and  here  we  have  all  we  require,  becaufe  (here  he  blends, 
'  or  rather  confounds  two  of  Ariftotle's  requifites)  all  we  require  is  a  fuit- 

*  able  confiftence.'  To  this  we  may  add,  that  the  intent  in  Macbeth  is 
infinitely  more  atrocious.  Wilmot,  urged  by  extreme  neceflity,  aggra- 
vated by  the  remembrance  of  former  affluence.     For, 

*  The  needy  man  who  has  known  better  days, 
'  One  whom  diflrefs  has  fpited  at  the  world, 
*■  Is  he,  whom  tempting  fiends  would  pitch  upon 
'  To  do  fuch  deeds,  as  make  the  profperous  man 
*•  Lift  up  his  hands  and  wonder  who  could  do  them.' 

Douglas^ 

Wilmot,  I  fay,  refolves  to  reinflate  his  fortunes,  by  taking  the  life  of  a 
man  he  conceives  a  perfedl  flranger,  with  whom  he  is  no  otherwife  con- 
aeded,  than  by  the  common  bands  of  nature  and  hofpitality.  '  But  Mac- 
beth, loaded  with  large  poffeffions  and  newly  acquired  honors,  is  goaded 


[i]  See  Note  m.  Chap,  xiik- 

by 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  313 

by  an  inordinate  ambition   to  facrifice  his  kinfman,  his  benefiiftor,  and 
his  king.     One  who  under  his  roof  was 

*  In  double  tnifl. 


*  Firft  as  he  was  his  kinfman  and  his  fubjed;, 

*  Both  ftrong  againft  the  deed  ;  then  as  his  hoft, 

*  Who  fliould  againft  the  murderer  fhut  the  door, 

*  Not  bear  the  knife  himfelf.' 

Surely  in  the  diftinftion  of  thefe  two  fcenes  the  poetical  goodness 
OF  CHARACTER  is  fufRcicntly  marked  and  makes  the  chief  difference 
between  them  :  but  it  obvioufly  does  not  arife  from  moral  goodnefs,  or 
ftriking  delineation  of  charadler ;  or  if  it  does  excel  in  the  latter,  it 
muft  be  from  fuperior  merit  as  to  one  of  the  three  laft  requifites,  pro- 
priety, likenefs,  or  uniformity. 

In  the  old  and  middle  comedy,  the  manners,  like  thofe  in  modern  farce 
when  it  keeps  its  true  charadler,  and  in  the  burlefque  epopee,  fuch  as 
Hudibras,  are  reprefented  as  devoid  of  this  poetic  goodnefs.  [k]  But  in 
what  we  call  genteel  comedy,  and  the  comic  epopee,  the  manners  of  the 
principal  characters  at  leaft,  though  drawn  in  general  conformity  to  thofe 
of  the  age,  partake  of  this  goodnefs  in  fome  degree.  Though  Tom  Jones 
is  not  drawn  different  from  other  men  as  x^chilles  is,  though  he  is  not 
drawn  as  a  perfed;  chara<fler,  and  therefore  as  a  monfter,  like  Grandifon 
and  Clariffa,  every  reader  will  fee  he  has  no  foibles  that  difgrace  him, 
one  only  excepted,  his  venal  amour  with  Lady  Bellafton.  And  there 
Fielding  has  committed  an  error,  and  every  reader  feels  it,  againft  this 
rule  which  Ariftole  has  given,  or  rather  tranfcribed  from  the  volume  of 

[k]  See  Note  i.  Chap.  11. 

S  f  nature. 


314  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

nature.  I  have  mentioned  this  as  relative  only  to  the  principal  charadlers. 
The  fubordinate  ones  may  be  purely  burlefque  even  in  comedy  and  the 
comic  epopee. 

A  charadler  can  never  be  refpecftable  without  poffefling  a  fenfe  of 
honor  and  of  courage.  The  defed  of  thefe  qualities  is  evident  in  Gil. 
Bias,  who,  throughout  the  agreeable  novel  of  Le  Sage,  for  fo  it  is  in 
fpite  of  this  defedl,  can  never  intereft  us  ;  for  who  can  be  much  con- 
cerned for  the  welfare  of  a  defpicable  character,  who  is  both  a  cheat  and 
a  coward  j  and  fuch  a  character  Gil  Bias  certainly  is[L]. 

The  Orphan  is  a  flriking  inflance  of  a  want  of  this  goodnefs  of  man- 
ners. Caftalio  and  Polydore  are  certainly  two  unprincipled  fcoundrels, 
and  Chamont  is,  as  Caftalio  calls  him,  *  a  noify  boifterous  ruffian.'  The 
Chaplain  I  do  not  mention  as  he  is  intended  for  a  characfter  in  low  comedy. 
But  if  the  reader  wifhes  to  fee  an  inftance  of  flagrant  violation,  not  only 
of  goodnefs  but  every  requifite  of  manners,  he  may  frnd  it  in  a  fpeech  of 
Monimia,  who  when  Polydore,  in  language  too  grofs  for  quotation  and 
which  would  degrade  him  at  once  from  the  charadler  of  gentleman,  had 
it  been  addrefl"ed  to  a  common  proftitute,  accufes  her  and  her  fex  of  every 
vice,  the  laft  and  moft  confpicuous  of  w^hich  is  unbridled  luft,  acqui« 
efces  in  the  juftice  of  the  charge,  and  coolly  i^eplies, 

*  Indeed,  my  lord,, 
*  I  own  my  fex's  follies,  I  have  'em  all ; 
'  And  to  avoid  its  fault  muft  fly  from  you.' 

[l]  See  Beattie  on  Fable  and  Romance,  p.  570  and  572,  where,  fpeaking  of  Fielding's 
Jofeph  Andrews,  he  wonders  '  what  could  induce  the  author  to  add  to  the  other  faults  of  his 
'  hero's  father,  Wilfon,  the  infamy  cf  lying  and  cowardice.' 

The 


Note  r.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  '3,^ 

The  French  poets  fo  far  from  negledling  this  ruls  of  Arlftotle,  have 
puflied  it  to  a  moll;  ridiculous  excefs,  in  which  they  have  been  but  too  much 
followed  by  many  of  our  tragic  writers.  Inflead  of  giving  that  natural 
dignity  of  charad:er,  which  prevents  even  vice  from  becoming  defpicable, 
they  have  fubftituted  an  inflated  and  artificial  character,  the  fuppofed  con- 
fequence  of  high  rank.  The  kings  and  heroes  of  Racine  and  Corneille, 
.put  us  in  mind  of  Alexander  and  Caefar  dreffed  in  the  hoops  of  the 
Italian  opera. 

This  falfe  tafle  is  well  ridiculed  by  [m]  Lefling,  in  a  criticifm  on  the 
Earl  of  EfTex,  by  Banks.  After  quoting  feveral  paflages  in  which 
Elizabeth  fpeaks  like  a  woman  rather  than  a  queen  [n],  he  proceeds, 

*  Yes,  indeed !   thefe  things  are  intolerable,  the  refined  critics,  and  per- 

*  haps  fome  of  my  readers  will  fay,  for  unluckily  there  are  Germans  yet 

*  more  frenchified  than  the  French  themfelves.     It  is  for  their  diverfion 
'  that  I  have  feledled  thefe  low  paflages,  according  to  their  notion.   ,,I 

*  know  their  mode  of  criticifing.     Thefe  little  negligences  which  are  fo 

*  terribly  offenfive  to  their  delicate  ears,  and  which  are  fo  difficult  for  the 

*  poet  to  find,  and  who  has  carefully  fcattered  them  here  and  there,  to 

*  render  the  dialogue  more  natural  and  give  the  difcourfe  an  appearance 

*  of  being  the  real  infpiration  of  the  moment ;  thefe  they  tack  cleverly 

Tm]  Dramaturgie,  Part  i.  page  96. 

[n  j  '  Telephus  aut  Peleus  cum  pauper  et  exul  uterque 
'  Projecit  ampuUas  et  fefquipedalia  verba 
-*  Si  curat  cor  fpe£lantis  tetigiffe  querela.'  HoR. 

*  Peleus  and  Telephus  poor  banifti'd  !  each 

'  Drop  their  big  fix-foot  words  and  founding  fpeech  ; 

^  Or  elfe  what  bofom  in  their  grief  takes  part.'  Colman'. 

S  f  2  'to- 


3i6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

*  together,  and  then  almoft  kill  themfelves  with  laughing  at  them ;  and 
'  fhrugging    their   flioulders   from  mere  pity,  they  gravely  pronounce 

*  that  the  poor  man  knows  nothing  of  the  great  world  -,  that  he  has  not 

*  converfed  with  many  queens ;  that  Racine  knew  much  better,  but 
'  then  Racine  had  lived  at  court. 


'  All  this  is  very  well,  but  it  does  not  alter  my  opinion.     If  queens 
'  either  do  not,  or  dare  not  fpeak  in  this  manner,  fo  much  the  worfe  for 

*  them.     It  is  not  to-day  I  have  learned,  that  a  court  is  not  exadlly  the 
'  place  where  a  poet  fliould  fludy  nature.     But  if  pomp  and  etiquette 

*  transform  men  into  machines,  it  is  the  duty  of  the  poet  to  change 

*  thefe  machines  again  into  men.    Let  real  queens  fpeak  as  affedledly  and 

*  politely  as  they  pleafe,  thofe  of  the  poet  (hould  fpeak  naturally.     Let 

*  him  liften  attentively  to  the  Hecuba  of  Euripides,  and  confole  himfelf 

*  ■  for  having  never  converfed  with  other  queens  [o].' 


-J  I 


From  the  principle  above-mentioned  arofe  all  the  abfurd  cenfures 
of  the  French  critics  on  the  fimplicity  of  Homer,  and  all  the  mifrepre- 
fentations  of  the  French  tranflators.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  Pope, 
who  in  his  notes  has  often  treated  Mad.  Dacier  with  great  afperity, 
chofe  to  follow  her  example  as  to  this  in  his  verhon.  The  manners  of 
the  Iliad  are  altered  too  much ;  but  thofe  of  the  Odyffey  are  entirely 
and  radically  changed  [p]. 

[o]  See  alfo  Beattie  on  Imagination,  Chap.  iv.  page  183  ;  and  Brumoy's  Reflections  on 
Iphigenia. 

[p]  See  this  more  enlarged  on  in  Note  i,  on  Chap.  xxiv. 

not£ 


NoTEH.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  317 


NOTE      II. 

A  WOMAN,  OR  EVEN  A  SLAVE  MAY  BE  DRAWN  WITH  THIS  EX- 
CELLENCE OF  CHARACTER,  THOUGH  IT  IS  PROBABLE  THAT 
A  WOMAN  SHOULD  BE  WORSE  THAN  A  MAN,  AND  THAT  A 
SLAVE    SHOULD    BE    ABSOLUTELY    BAD. 

THIS  decifion  of  Ariftotle  does  not  appear  very  favourable  to  the 
ladies  [qJ.  Metaflafio  is  angry  with  him  for  having  thus  without 
any  neceffity,  infulted  half  the  human  race.  But  if  the  principles  on 
which  Metaflafio  explains  this  paffage,  as  mentioned  in  the  preceding 
note  are  right,  there  will  be  no  infult  at  all.  For  if  goodnefs  of  man- 
ners means  manners  ftrongly  marked,  it  will  be  obvious  to  common  ob- 
fervation  that  the  remark  is  juft,  without  recurring  to  Athens,  where 
women  were  almoft  as  much  fecluded  from  the  general  commerce  of  the 
world,  in  the  time  of  Ariftotle,  as  they  are  now,  but  even  at  the  prefent 
time  in  weftern  Europe,  where  they  mix  fo  much  and  take  fo  a<flive  a 
part  in  fociety;  I  am  fpeaking  in  general,  there  may  be  particular  ex- 
ceptions ;  but  thefe  it  is  not  the  province  of  poetry,  at  leaft  of  tragedy  to 
imitate.  A  profclfed  delineator  of  manners  almoft  in  our  own  time,  has 
pronounced  the  fame  judgement  on  the  fex.  Pope  fays,  and  he  quotes 
a  lady  as  the  author  of  the  remark, 

*  Nothing  fo  true  as  what  you  once  let  fall  j 
'  Moft  women  have  no  charader  at  all.' 


[o  ]  Boflu  (whom  Mr.  Harris  calls  Arlftotle's  beft  interpreter)  obferves,  '  As  for  the  fex, 
<  Ariftotle  fays  in  his  Poetic,  that  there  are  fewer  good  women  than  others,  and  that  they  do 
*  more  harm  than  good.'    In  what  part  of  the  Poetic  did  he  find  this  pafiage  ? 

My 


3i8  A  COM?vIENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

My  hypothefis  it  is  true,  will  not  afford  this  cxcufe  for  the  Stagirite's 
want  of  gallantry.  But  whoever  refle<fls  on  the  fituation  of  the  Grecian 
women,  muft  know  they  could  not  poffefs  that  goodnefs  of  charadter 
which  I  imagine  Ariftotle  to  mean,  in  an  equal  degree  with  men.  For 
they  were  very  little  better  than  in  a  flate  of  domeftic  fervitude,  and 
therefore  could  feldom  have  opportunities  of  exerting  dignity  of  cha- 
racter. This  is  by  no  means  the  cafe  with  the  modern  female  charafter. 
Their  manners,  indeed,  are  not  fo  flrongly  marked  as  thofe  of  men, 
nor  afford  fo  much  variety,  but  they  are  equally  capable  of  this  poetical 
goodnefs,  as  far  as  they  are  marked,  with  thofe  of  men.  I  do  not  mean 
fuch  characters  as  Lady  Macbeth  and  Medea,  who  do  not  properly  pof- 
fefs female  manners,  but  fuch  as  Juliet,  as  Conftance,  as  Defdemona,  and 
as  Belvidera.  As  for  a  flave,  our  tragic  drama  knows  no  fuch  charader 
as  exifted  under  that  name  in  the  free  republic  of  Athens.  Zangaand 
Oroonoko  are  captive  heroes. 

I  would  not  be  underffood  however,  either  as  wifliing  to  palliate  or 
apologize,  for  the  opinion  of  Ariftotle  in  this  or  any  other  place  where  I 
think  him  abfolutely  in  the  wrong.  Of  the  unfavourable  idea  he  enter- 
tained of  the  fair  fex  there  can  be  no  doubt.  This  is  proved  beyond  con- 
tradidion,  from  a  paffige  in  his  natural  hiftory  [r]  of  animals,  which 
Mr.  Twining  has  quoted,  and  I  fhall  venture  to  tranflate,  as  a  compleat 
fpecimen  of  the  pureft  abfurdity.  '  Woman  is  more  apt  to  pity  and 
'  fall  into  tears  than  man.     She  is  more  given  to  envy,  more  ready  to 

*  find  fault,  fonder  of  fcandal,  and  more  apt  to  give  blows.     She  is 

*  alfo  more  addided  to  anxiety  and  defpondency,  more  impudent,  more 

*  falfe,  more  eafily  deceived  and  lefs  apt  to  forget,  alfo  more  wakeful, 

[ji]  Book  IX.  Chap.  I. 

*  and 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  319 

*  [s]  and  yet  more   flothful,    and  on   the  whole  more  obflinate  than 

*  men.' 

Perhaps  I  may  be  thought  to  take  up  the  caufe  of  the  mofl:  amiable  part 
of  our  fpecies  too  warmly,  when  I  declare  this  paffage  alone  is  a  fuificient 
anfwer  to  all  thofe,  who  think  Ariftotle  never  in  the  wrong.  The 
philofopher  is  not  here  fpeaking  of  the  civil  but  the  natural  charadler  of 
woman,  conlidered  as  an  animal,  as  the  female  of  the  human  race.  He 
is  enquiring  into  the  nature  of  females  in  general  throughout  the  whole 
of  animated  nature.     Thefe  are  his  words.     *  Females  (he  fays,  with  an 

*  exception  as  to  tigers  and  bears)  are  lefs  ferocious  but  more  malicious, 

*  deceitful,  and  infidious  than  males,  and  more  attentive  in  nourifliing 

*  their  young. — The  traces  of  thefe  manners  are  to  be  found,  as  I  may 

*  fay,  in  all  animals,  but  they  are  moft  confpicuous  in  thofe  whofe 
'  manners  are  moft  marked,  and  efpecially  in  mankind  whofe  nature  is 
'  mofl  perfedl,  fo  that  thefe  habits  will  be  moft  confpicuous  in  them.' 
And  then  follows  the  definition  above  quoted.  Here  therefore  the 
ladies  are  marked  as  the  reprefentatives  of  the  whole  creation,  with  the 
flattering  exception  indeed  of  tigreffes  and  fhe-bears;  but  certainly  mofl 
of  the  diflindiions  between  the  fexes  mentioned  by  Ariflotle  are  diftlnc- 
tions  of  artificial  habit,  the  confequences  of  cullom  and  education,  and 
not  natural  habit  or  inflincfl.  In  fome  of  them,  as  timidity  and  foftnefs, 
the  ancient  and  modern  females  agree  ;   in  others,  as  impudence  and 

fs]  AyfUTi/iTfjsot  xai  oxi/ripoTspov.  Of  this  apparent  paradox,  Mr.  Twining  gives  the 
following  humorous  folution.  '  More  able  to  keep  late  hours,  and  at  the  fame  time  more  lazy 
'  than  men,'  might  not  this  be  rendered  '  fonder  of  fitting  up  late,  and  lying  in  bed  late;'  per- 
haps this  may  be  the  cafe  in  general  at  prefent,  as  the  ladies  are  fonder  of  dancing,  and  as  yet 
at  leafl:,  though  I  doubt  if  that  will  continue,  not  quite  fo  fond  of  fporting  as  the  men. 

dilTimulatlonv 


320  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  xv. 

diflimuktion,  they  differ,  on  account  of  their  different  mode  of  life. 
But  wherever  male  jealoufy  and  tyranny,  in  modern  times,  reduces 
females  to  the  fituation  of  flaves,  the  qualities  of  flaves  will  ftill  be  found 
in  them.  Surely  there  is  not  more  difference  between  the  characters  of 
men  and  women,  as  ftated  by  Ariftotle,  than  there  is  between  a  foldier 
and  an  attorney  [t].  And  I  fhould  hardly  impute  this  to  natural  inftindl. 
I  have  heard  it  obferved,  that  on  examining  the  ruins  either  of  Pompeia 
or  Herculaneum,  the  bodies  of  the  men  were  found  in  the  attitude  of 
refiftance,  the  women  in  that  of  refignation,  which  I  conceive  to  be  as 
much  the  confequence  of  habit  as  the  difcovery  faid  to  have  been  made 
of  a. young  man  in  women's  cloaths,  by  attempting  to  draw  a  chair  in 
a  method  which  his  drefs  would  not  permit  [u]. 

In  a  note  on  the  former  edition  of  my  tranflation,  I  have  faid  a 
more  perfe<ft  charad:er  might  be  found  among  women  than  men.  To 
trace  the  caufes  of  this,  may  perhaps  throw  fome  light  on  the  fubjed:  of 
the  preceding  note. 

The  qualities  that  raife  men  in  the  efteem  of  the  world,  that  render 
them  in  the  general  opinion  of  mankind  great  and  refped:able  on  which 
poetical  goodnefs  of  character  depends,  are  often  not  conneded,   but 


[t]  I  do  not  mean  to  fay,  that  there  are  not  particular  inflances  of  good  or  had  difpofitions 
refifting  the  force  of  habit ;  there  are  certainly  rapacious  and  cunning  foIdiers,mafculine  women, 
and  honeft  and  even  liberal-minded  attorneys,  for  I  cannot  agree  with  Mr.  Shenftone,  or  at  leaft 
am  more  lucky  in  my  acquaintance  with  them,  as  I  know  feveral  in  whom  the  gentleman,  the 
chriftian,  and  the  man  is  not  (as  he  afferts)  fwallowed  up  in  the  lawyer. 

[u]  Is  not  the  imputation  of  thefe  diftinftions  to  natural  caufes  fomething  on  the  fame  prin- 
ciple with  the  remark  of  the  old  groom,  who  had  found,  from  long  experience,  that  cropped 
horfes  were  naturally  good  ? 

frequently 


Note  n.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  321 

frequently  even  in  oppofition  to  what  may  ftridlly  be  called  moral  virtue. 
That  a  degree  of  this  poetical  goodnefs  is  not  incompatible  even  with 
atrocious  crimes,  has  already  been  obferved ;  and  we  may  add,  that  in 
modern  times  it  frequently  depends  on  acknowledged  vices,  as  a  certain 
degree  of  gallantry  and  duelling.     In  regard  to  the  firft,  how  nearly  has 
Fielding  made  Jofeph  Andrews  an  objedl  of  ridicule;  and  what  pains  is 
he  obliged  to  employ  to  excufe  him,  by  his  violent  attachment  to  another 
woman.     The  fame  may  be  obferved  as  to  duelling,  in  the  charadler  of 
Sir  Charles  Grandifon,  who,  after  all  the  trouble  Richardfon  has  taken 
to  draw  him  perfeft,  is  neither  the  objed:  of  our  love  or   our  refpedl. 
Indeed  the  poet's  pencil  is  not  always  true  to  his  intention  [x].     I  have 
no  doubt  that  Rowe,  in  the  Fair  Penitent,  meant  to  make  Altamont  the 
objedl  of  our  efteem,  and  Lothario  of  our  deteftation.     But  he  has  fo 
contrived  in  the  execution,  that  we  defpife  Altamont,  and  the  gallant  gay 
Lothario  is  the  favorite  of  the  fpedators,  though  he  is  an  unprincipled, 
and  in  one  inftance  a  defpicable  villain,  for  no  crime  can  be  more  truly 
defpicable  than  boafling  of  a  woman's  favors.     The  fame  may  be  faid  of 
two   other   chara(fters   in   different    works,    Lovelace  and  Sir  Charles 
Grandifon.     But  a  woman  may  be  drawn  perfectly  good,  and  at  the  fime 
time  perfedlly  interefting,  for  there  is  no  virtue  in  the  catalogue  of  riioral 
or  chriftian  duties  that  is  not  becoming,  and  does  not  both  give  and  re- 
ceive additional  luftre,  when  pofTeffed  by  that  amiable  fex.     The  utmoft 
exertions  of  patience,  and  meeknefs,  which  at  lead:  fink  the  dignity  of  the 
tragic  hero,  raife  the  tragic  heroine  in  our  efteem.     The  charadlers  of 
Imogen,    of  Defdemona,  and  of  Cordelia,    are   as    nearly  patterns    of 

[x]  Maffinger  has  fucceeded  in  this  in  his  Fatal  Dowry,  from  which  Rowe  entirely  bor- 
rowed his  plot,  though  without  any  acknowledgement.  See  a  comparifon  between  thefe  plays 
in  the  Obferver,  No.  89,  90, 91. 

T  t  perfe<Sion 


J 


22  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.xv. 


perfedion  as  human  nature  will  admit,  erring  only  as  to  that  pafllon 
which  we  have  already  mentioned  as  furnifhing  [y]  that  jhe^-kXij  KfjiapTta, 
that  great  frailty  which  caufes  the  diftrefs  of  virtuous  charadlers  without 
awakening  our  difguft,  or  finking  them  in  our  efteeni. 

Before  I  quit  this  part  of  the  fubjedt  I  muft  make  one  obfervation, 
though  it  partly  anticipates  the  fubjed:  of  the  next  note.  It  relates  to 
the  tendency  my  fair  countrywomen  have  to  violate  in  real  life  an  exam- 
ple of  Ariflotle  given  to  enforce  the  neceflity  of  poetical  propriety  of 
manners.     He  tells  us  '  there  is  a  charafter  of  courage  and  fiercenefs 

*  adapted  to  men,  which  would  be  very  improper  in  a  woman.'  My 
own  feelings  on  this  head  are  fo  much  in  unifon  with  thofe  of  the  Stagi- 
rite,  that  I  am  as  much  difgufted  at  feeing  a  delicate  and  accompliflied 
woman  drawing  a  bow,  or  managing  a  fpirited  hunter,  as  I  fliould  be 
at  a  man's  working  a  pair  of  ruffles,  or  embroidering  a  waiftcoat.  Thefe 
exercifes  are  not  only  unfit  for  female  delicacy  but  even  deilrudlive  of 
female  beauty,  as  they  tend  to  make  the  arm  mufcular,  and  confequently 
to  rob  it  of  its  firft  grace,  rotundity,  and  foftnefs  of  outline.  There  is 
even  fomething  repugnant  to  our  fenfations  in  feeing  a  woman  fkilful  in 
things  that  do  not  become  her  fex.  In  fuch  cafes  there  is  a  beauty  even 
in  awkwardnefs.  There  is  a  mafterly  ftroke  in  Roufleau's  Emilius  [z] 
exemplifying  this.     '  Sophia  could  not  fit  llill.     She  rofe  with  vivacity. 

*  She  ran  over  the  whole  fhop,  examined  the  tools,  felt  the  fmoothnefs 

*  of  the  planks,  picked  up  the  fliavings,  looked  at  our  hands,  and  faid 

*  fhe  liked  this  kind  of  work  becaufe  it  was  fo  clean.  She  playfully 
'  attempted  even  to  imitate  Emilius.  With  her  white  and  delicate  hand 
'  fhe  run  a  plane  over  a  board,  the  plane  Aid  on  without  having  any 

£y]  See  Note  iv.  Chap.  xiii.  [z]  Vol.  II.  Part  II. 

*  effedt. 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE,  323 

*  eiFed:.     I  thought  I  beheld  the  god  of  love  in  the  air  laughing  and 

*  beating  his  wings.     I  thought  I  heard  him  (liout  with  delight,  and 

*  fay,  "  Hercules  is  revenged." 

Homer  who  lived  in  more  natural  times  than  Arlftotle,  or  the  Greek 
tragic  writers,  was  much  more  favorable  to  the  charadters  of  women. 
In  what  amiable  colors  has  he  drawn  Helen,  the  caufe  of  fo  much  war 
and  bloodflied.  How  different  is  the  behaviour  of  Hecflor  to  her,  and 
that  of  the  pious  yEneas  of  Virgil !  Her  lamentation  over  the  body  of 
Hedlor,  in  the  lafl  book  of  the  Iliad,  is  beyond  expreffion  beautiful  [a]. 

The  cafe  with  regard  to  flavery  was  different,  and  Homer  expreflea 
himfelf  on  that  head  with  nearly  as  much  flrength  as  Ariflotle. 

[b]  *  Jove  iix'd  it  certain  that  whatever  day 

*  Makes  man  a  Have,  takes  half  his  worth  away.' 

Pope's  Odyssey,  1.  xvii.  v.  393.^ 

[a]  Madam  Dacier's  criticifm  on  this  fpeech  is  the  very  BaOoc  of  the  abfurd.  '  Homer 
«  does  not  fay  this  only  to  {hew  the  goodnefs  and  humanity  of  Heftor,  but  alfo  to  fupport  the 
«  probability  of  the  poem.     For  if  Heftor,  who  was  mafter  in  Troy,  both  on  account  of 

*  his  own  valor  and  the  old  age  of  Priam,  had  not  been  in  the  interefts  of  Helen,  there 

*  would  have  been  no  likelihood  of  her  not  being  delivered  up  to  the  Greeks  in  the  courfe  o£ 
«  fo  fatal  a  war.' 

Madam  Dacier  in  this  remark  omits  the  teftimony  Helen  bears  to  die  paternal  tendernefs 

fliewn  her  by  Priam. 

'Exupof  Sly  TsjaTD^  u?,  mttio?  am. 

There  is  the  fame  omiflion  in  Pope's  tranflation.  ' 

[^]  "H/xKTU  yip  T   ccpirn';  UTroaivvToci  tupuoTra  Zfuf 

'Avspej  tvT  uv  [Ai»  xxroi  SeXiov  ^juasj  sArirf*, 

Odyssey,  1.  xvii.  v.  322.. 

T  t  a  NOTE. 


324  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

NOTE      III. 
THE    NEXT    REQUISITE     IS     THEIR    BEING     CHARACTERISTIC. 

BY  charafteriftic  is  meant  confonant  with  the  profeffion,  rank,  fex, 
and  age  of  the  perfon.  This  is  clearly  defined  as  to  the  laft  condition 
bj  Horace  in  his  Epiftle  to  the  Pilbs  [c].  The  celebrated  fpeech  of 
Jaques  in  As  You  Like  It,  defcribing  the  feven  ages  of  man's  life, 
feems  an  imitation  of  this  pafTage  in  Horace.  But  with  all  the  venera- 
tion I  have  for  Shakefpear,  I  cannot  agree  with  Mr,  Colman  in  thinking 
his  alteration  in  making  t  wo  of  his  examples  charadleriftic  of  flation, 
inftead  of  age,  an  improvement;  fmce  comparatively  confidered,  fo 
few  men  are  ever  either  foldiers  or  juftices.  I  fay  two  examples,  though 
Mr.  Colman  makes  them  three,  enumerating  the  lover  in  them.  But 
here  I  think  Shakefpear  has  adhered  more  to  general  nature  than  Florace. 
Love  is  certainly  more  naturally  charaderiflic  of  youth  than  hunting. 

An  objedion  has  been  made  to  lago  as  a  deviation  from  this  rule,  as 
the  charadler  of  an  artful  revengeful  villain  is  very  oppofite  to  that  of  a 
foldier :  and  had  lago  been  the  only  foldier  in  the  play  the  objedlion 
would  have  been  juft,  as  in  that  cafe  he  mufl:  have  been  confidered  as 
reprefenting  the  general  manners  of  the  profeffion.  But  as  in  Othello 
all  the  principal  perfon s  of  the  drama  are  foldiers,  the  manners  are  cha- 
rafteriftic  of  the  individual  not  of  the  profeffion.     From  national  preju- 

[c]  See  V.  156  to  v.  178  in  the  original,  and  v.  230  to  v.  265  in  Mr.  Colman 's  traiifla- 
tion. 

dice 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  325 

dice  we  are  apt  to  be  rather  unfavorable  in  our  reprefentation  of  French 
charaders  ;  and  had  Parolles  been  the  only  Frenchman  in  '  All's  Well 
*  that  Ends  Well,'  we  (liould  not  fcruple  to  confider  him  as  an  example 
of  fuch  prejudice;  but  as  the  fccne  lies  in  France  chiefly,  no  fuch  idea 
is  ever  entertained  [d]. 

As  to  the  propriety  of  charafter,  the  ghoflis,  witches,  and  fairies  of  Shake- 
fpear,  are  defervedly  allowed  fuperior  excellence,  as  they  certainly  adt  in 
conformity  with  the  manners,  we  impute  to  fuch  imaginary  beings  did  they 
really  exift.  Yet  Shakefpear  had  here  fome  archetype  to  follow;  for  popu- 
laf  opinion  had  already  marked  the  outline  of  their  habits,  which  was  as 
advantageous  to  him  in  giving  them  charadlerlflic  manners  as  it  was  dlf- 
advantageous  to  [e]  Milton  in  giving  Satan  poetical  excellence  of  manners. 
But  how  Shakefpear  [f]  has  contrived  in  fuch  charafters  as  Caliban,  the 
pure  creation  of  his  own  Imagination,  to  give  to  what  never  did,  and  never 
was  fuppofed  to  exift,  fuch  manners  as  we  are  irrefiflibly  impelled  by 
our  feelings  to  pronounce  truly  charafteriftic,  is  a  power  of  art  that  cri- 
ticifm  is  as  inadequate  to  invefligate,  as  genius  to  imitate. 

[d]  See  Biftiop  Warburton's  Defence  of  Shakefpear  in  this  inftance  againft  the  hyper- 
criticifm  of  Rhymer. 

[e]  See  Note  i.  on  this  chapter. 

[f]  See  Effay  on  the  Dramatic  Charafter  of  FalftafF,  page  75,  note.   ' 


NO   T  E 


326  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 


NOTE     IV. 

THE  THIRD  ESSENTIAL  IS  LIKENESS.  THERE  IS  A  DISTINCTION 
BETWEEN  THIS  AND  WHAT  WE  HAVE  ALREADY  MENTIONED 
ABOUT    THEIR    BEING    GOOD    AND    CHARACTERISTIC. 

THESE  words  obvioufly  imply  that  though  there  is  a  dlilin(flIon 
between  them  they  are  liable  to  be  confounded,  which  is  exadlly  the 
cafe  with  being  hke  and  chara(n:eriflic.     But  there  feems  to  be  almofl:  a 
diredt  oppofition  between  likenefs  and  goodnefs.     *  Foty  as  is  very  juftly ' 
remarked  by  Mr.  Twining,  *  there  was  more  danger  of  a  reader's  think- 

*  ing  the  of^oiou  too  different  fi'om  the  xp^s'°^*  ^^'^^  ^^  ^  general  precept 
'  incompatible  with  it.'  I  can  find  no  other  way  of  folving  this  diffi- 
culty than  by  the  common  effort  of  unfuccefsful  and  bold  commentators^ 
alteration  of  the  text,  and  leaving  out  the  word  %^»)s-o:'  as  fuppofing  it 
added  by  a  tranfcriber  in  conformity  to  wcTTre^  'it^rjui,  as  both  goodnefs 
and  propriety  have  jufl:  been  mentioned. 

The  difference  between  propriety  and  likenefs  confifls  merely  in  this, 
that  the  one  relates  to  what  is  becoming  and  natural  in  a  perfon  of  fuch  an. 
age,  fex,  or  profeffion  j  the  other,  to  what  is  appropriated  to  any  particular 
charafter,  from  hiftory  or  tradition.  Mr.  Twining  illuftrates  this  by  the 
example  of  Medea,  *  where  the  violence  and  fiercenefs  which  form  her 

*  traditional  charafter,  and  therefore  the  likenefs  of  the  poet's  pifture 

*  may  be  faid  to  be  proper,  or  fuitable  with   refpecft  to  the  individual,, 

*  though  improper  and  unfuitable  to  the  general  charadler  of  the  fex.' 


Mr. 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  327 

Mr.  Mafon,  as  he  has  drawn  his  Elfrida,  whofe  hiftorical  charadter  is 
one  of  the  worft  in  the  annals  of  human  kind,  has  preferred  general 
propriety  of  charadler  to  individual  refemblance. 

This  fubjed  is  difcufled  at  large  by  M.  LefTing,  in  a  criticifm  on  a 
comedy  called  Solyman  the  Second  [g],  taken  from  one  of  Mar- 
montel's  tales,  from  which  I  fhall  make  a  confiderable  extraft,  as  it  in 
many  places  applies  flrongly  to  the  Elfrida  of  Mr.  Mafon,  and  without 
defign,  and  confequently  without  partiality,  urges  what  may  be  faid  on 
both  fides  as  to  fuch  a  delineation  of  an  hiflorical  charadler. 

M.  Lefling  firft  quotes  the  following  extradl  from  the  Journal 
Encyclopedique  for  January,  1762,  page  79. 

*'  Solyman,"  *  fay  they,'  "  was  one  of  the  greateft  princes  of  his 
*'  age.  His  viftories,  his  talents,  his  virtues,  rendered  him  an  object 
*'  of  veneration  even  to  the  enemies  he  triumphed  over.  But  this  hero 
**  fo  fenfible  to  glory  was  not  infenfible  to  love  i  though  delicate  in  his 
*'  pleafures,  he  felt  amid  the  corruption  of  a  feraglio,  that  pleafure  un- 
"  accompanied  by  fentiment  is  contemptible.  He  imagined  he  had 
"  found  this  in  Roxelana,  a  young  Italian  captive,  not  perhaps  inca- 
*'  pable  of  tendernefs  but  neverthelefs  artful  and  ambitious,  and  fkilled 
"  in  the  means  of  making  her  pleafures  the  fource  of  her  elevation. 
"  By  feigning  fenfibility  herfelf,  fhe  induced  Solyman  who  really  felt  it, 
"   to  violate  a  law  of  the  empire  which  forbad  the  fultan  to  marry. 

[cj  Dramaturgic,  Part  ii.  page  70,  &  feq. 

We  have  a  very  pleafing  after-piece  on  the  fame  fubjefl:,  in  which  the  character  of  Roxe- 
iaiia  has  received  additional  interefl:  from  the  powers  of  Mrs.  Abingdon  and  Mrs.  Jordan. 

«'  She 


328  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

"  She  afcended  the  throne  with  him,  an  ambition  in  itfelf  pardonable, 
"  if  fhe  had  not  employed  her  afcendancy  over  her  lover  to  force  him  to 
"  fully  his  glory  by  the  iacrifice  "<8f  an  innocent  fon.  This  woman  M. 
"  Marmontel  has  chofen  for  the  heroine  of  one  of  his  tales.  But  how  he 
"  has  changed  her  !  Inftead  of  Italian  he  has  made  her  French.  Inftead 
"  of  an  artful  woman  affefting  fenfibility  he  has  made  her  the  coquet 
"  of  a  Parifian  circle ;  and  inftead  of  a  foul  overwhelmed  by  ambition,. 
*'  and  capable  of  the  boldeft  and  moft  atrocious  actions  to  fatisfy  it, 
"  he  has  given  her  an  undefigning  head  and  an  excellent  heart.  Are 
"  fuch  changes  allowable  ?  Can  a  poet  or  a  novellift  extend  the  licenfe> 
"  whatever  it  may  be,  that  is  given  him,  to  known  charadlers  ?  Though 
**  permitted  to  change  fads,  has  he  a  right  to  paint  Lucretia  as  a  co- 
♦•  quet,  and  Socrates  as  a  fine  gentleman  ?" 

To  this  M.  Lefling  replies  :  *  I  do  not  chufe  to  charge  myfelf  wkh 
'■  the  juftifi cation  of  M.  Marmontel  on  this  point.     I  have  already  ob- 

*  ferved  [h],  that  charadlers  fhould  be  more  facred  to  the  poet  than^ 

♦  fads.     Firft,  becaufe  when  the  charaders  are  well  obferved,  the  f;;ds 


[h]  Dramaturgie,  Part  r.  page  57,  where  he  defends  the  anachronifms  as  to  the  age  of 
Elizabeth  in  Corneille's  Comte  de  Eflex,  againft  the  Criticifms  of  VoJtairc.  Corneiile  repre- 
fents  her  as  young  wheri  Eflex  is  executed,  which  really  happened  near  the  clofe  of  her 
reign.  LeiTing  fays,  '  If  her  charafter  gives  the  poetic  idea  of  that  which  hiflory  attributes 
'  to  that  queen  the  poet  has  fulfilled  his  duty,  and  we  have  no  bufinefs  to  bring  the  work  to 
*  the  ftrift  tribunal  of  chronology  or  hiftory.'  In  confirmation  of  this  dodrine  we  have  had 
three  tragedies  on  this  fubjeft.on  our  theatre,  to  which  the  hiflory  of  Elizabeth  mufl  be 
much  better  known  than  it  can  be  to  a  French  ai^dience,  which  have  all  the  fame  defe<Sl 
without  its  producing  any  ill  confequence  as  to  their  reception  on  the  ftage.  See  Note  iv.. 
Chap.  xviK 

*  as 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  329 

*  as  being  the  confequence  of  fuch  charafters  can  never  vary  much  [i], 

*  as  on  the  contrary  the  fame  fadts  may  be  derived  from  charadlers  en- 
'  tirely  different.  Secondly,  becaufe  the  inftrudiion  does  not  lie  in  the 
*-fads  themfelves,  but  in  the  knowledge  that  fuch  charafters  in  fuch 

*  circumftances  do  and  can  only  produce  fuch  faits  [k].     Never thelefs 

*  Marmontel  has  done  juft  the  reverfe.     The  fud:  is,   that  there  was 

*  formerly  in  the  feraglio  an  European  female  flave,  who  had  art  enough 

*  to  get  herfelf  declared  legally  married  to  the  emperor.     The  charadler 

*  of  this  flave,  and  that  of  the  emperor,  determine  the  manner  in  which 

*  this  fadl  really  happened ;  and  becaufe  there  might  have  been  many 
'  different  characters  by  whofe  means  it  might  really  have  happened,  it 

*  certainly  depends  only  on  the  poet,  as  poet,  which,  either  of  the 

*  charaders  eftabliflied  by  hiftory,  or  of  others,  he  chufes  to  employ, 

*  according  as  the  moral  he  has  in  view,  requires  one  or  the  other.     All 

*  that  is  expedled  of  him,  in  cafe  he  chufes  other  charad:ers  than  thofe 

*  which  are  furnifhed  by  hiftory,  or  even  fuch  as  abfolutely  contradidt 

*  it,  is  to  abftain  alfo  from  hiftorical  names,  and  rather  afcribe  known 

*  [l]  fadls  to  unknown  perfons  than  give  to  known  perfons  manners 

*  which  do  not  belong  to  them.  The  firft  encreafes  our  knowledge,  or 
'  at  leafi:  feems  to  cncreafe  it,  and  pleafes  even  on  that  account  j  the 

[i]  This  I  think  will  hardly  be  granted,  and  indeed  feems  confuted  by  the  other  member 
of  the  fentence.  As  the  leading  fads  of  the  ftory  of  Elfrida  not  only  might  have  been,  but 
adtually  were  nearly  the  fame  as  reprefented  by  Mr.  Mafon,.  fo  had  Elfrida  been  drawn  as  (he 
leally  was,  undoubtedly  the  confequential  faiSs  might  have  been  entirely  different, 

[k]  The  reader  will  obferve  that  part  of  the  reafoning  here  arifes  from  M.  Lefllng's 
miftake  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  Contes  Moraux,  or  mora!  tales,  mentioned  in  Note  i. 
Chap.  VII. 

[l]  See  Note  iv.  Chap,  xviii. 

U  u  '  fecond 


330  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

*  fecond  contradicts  the  knowledge  we  already  have,  and  difpleafes  for 

*  that  reafon.     We  confider  fadls  as  accidental,  and  what  may  happen 

*  in  common  to  many  different  perfons,  but  characters  on  the  contrary 

*  as  fomething  eflential  and  particular.     We  permit  the  poet  therefore 

*  to  arrange  the  firft  according  to  his  fancy,  provided  he  does  not  make 

*  them  contradidlory  to  his  charadlers.     But  as  to  the  fecond  he  may 

*  put  them  indeed  in  the  heft  light,  but  he  muft  not  alter  them.     The 

*  leaft  variation  feems  to  deflroy  the  individuality,  and  give  us  fiditious 

*  and  deceitful  perfons,  who  ufurp  the  names  of  other  people,  and  try 

*  to  pafs  on  us  for  charadlers  they  in  reality  are  not. 

*  Notwithftanding  this.  It  appears  to  me  a  much  more  pardonable 

*  fault  not  to  preferve  in  the  perfons  thofe  charadlers  which  hiftory  has 

*  given  them,  than  to  err  either  as  to  probability  or  the  moral  intended 

*  to  be  conveyed  in  fuch  charadlers  as  are  chofen  at  will ;  for  the  firft 

*  defedl  may  very  well  be  united  with  genius,  but  not  the  fecond.     It 

*  is  allowed  to  be  ignorant  of  a  thoufand  things  that  every  fchool-boy 
'  knows.     It   is   not   the  acquifitions  of  memory,   but   the  pov/er   of 

*  drawing  from  our  own  proper  funds  that  conftitutes  riches.    As  to  what 

*  a  poet  has  heard,  or  feen,  or  read,  he  either  forgets  it,  or  does  not  chufe 

*  to  know  it,  juft  as  fuits  his  purpofe.     He  errs  then  fometimes  through 

*  too  much  fecurity,  fometimes  through  contempt,  fometimes  through 

*  premeditated  defign,  and  fometimes  not ;  and  he  does  it  fo  grofsly, 

*  and  fo  often,   that  we  poor  fouls  can   never  wonder  enough  at  it. 

*  Lifting  up  our  hands  we  cry,  How  could  fo  great  a  man  have  been 

*  ignorant  of  this  ?    How  could  it  have  efcaped  his  recolledlion  ?    Did 
'  not  he  take  it  into  confideration  ?     O  let  us  be  filent  on  the  fubjedl. 

*  While  we  are  trying  to  debafe  him,  we  only  make  ourfelves  ridiculous 

*  in  his  eyes ;  all  that  we  know  more  than  him  amounts  folely  to  what 

*  we 


Note  V.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE. 


331 


*  wc  learned  at  fchool,  without  which  we  fhould  have  been  completely 

*  ftupid  and  ignorant  indeed.* 


NOTE     V. 


THE    FOURTH    IS    CONSISTENCY. 


BY  confiflency  is  meant  keeping  the  charadler  uniform  with  itfelf 
in  every  refpedl.     Without  this  it  is  impoflible  for  the  manners  to  excel 
in  the  other  qualities ;  for  a  character  can  never  be  faid  to  have  poetical 
goodnefs,    or  general  propriety  of  manners,  or  individual  likenefs,  if 
thefe  qualities  are  not  uniformly  kept  up. 

Horace  feems  to  conceive  this  admonition  chiefly  neceflary  to  thofe 
poets  who  draw  original  charadlers  from  their  own  imagination. 

[m]   *  Should  you  adventuring  novelty,  engage 

*  Some  bold  original  to  walk  the  ftage, 

*  Preferve  it  well,  continued  as  begun 

*  True  to  itfelf  in  every  fcene,  and  one.' 

Colman's  Hor.  Ep.  to  Pis.  j86. 

Indeed  though  this  rule  is  equally  effential  to  all  charadlers,  original 
ones  will  be  moft  liable  to  offend  againft  it.  As  there  the  poet  will 
have  nothing  to  guide  him  but  his  own  genius,  and  befides  he  will  be 

[m]  Si  quid  inexpertum  fcenae  committis,  &  audes 
Perfonam  formare  novam  ;  fervetur  ad  imum . 
Qualis  ab  incepto  proceflerit  et  fibi  conftet. 

Ep.  ad  Pis.  125. 

U  u  2  more 


332  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

more  tempted  to  take  liberties  with  what  he  efteems  particularly 
his  property,  as  being  the  creature  of  his  own  invention.  He  alfo  will 
efteem  himfelf  to  be,  and  indeed  adlually  will  be,  lefs  liable  to  dete<3:ion. 

The  example  that  Ariflotle  gives  of  failure  in  this  point  is  the  cha- 
rafter  of  Iphigenia  in  the  Iphigenia  in  Aulis  of  Euripides,  of  which 
more  will  be  faid  in  the  next  note. 

Modern  inftances  of  the  breach  of  this  rule  will  be  amply  furniflied 
by  our  befl  poets,  ferious  and  comic,  epic  and  dramatic. 

[n]  The  charafter  of  Hamlet  cannot  certainly  be  allowed  to  be  uni- 
form throughout.  Befides  the  negleft  or  forgetfulnefs  of  the  poet  in 
making  Hamlet,  who  is  only  fuppofed  to  affedt  madnefs,  appear  often 
really  mad,  (an  error  carefully  and  effe<flually  guarded  again  ft  in 
[o]  Edgar,)  there  are  many  improprieties  which  I  fhall  not  enlarge 
upon  as  they  are  fufficiently  obvious. 

[n]  I  have  been  informed  that  by  order  of  Mrs.  Garrick  the  tragedy  of  Hamlet  was 
thrown  into  Garrick's  grave.  I  think  though  he  was  undoubtedly  great  in  that  chara£ler  he 
was  equally  fo  in  many  of  Shakefpear's  charadlers,  and  fiiperior  in  Lear.  The  comic  cha- 
rafters  I  prefume  were  thought  too  light  for  fofolemn  an  occafion.  ]f  by  burying  that  tragedy 
with  Garrick  it  was  meant  to  infer  that  it  was  loft  to  the  ftage  with  him,  a  complete  edition 
of  Shakefpear  might,  with  the  utmoft  propriety,  have  been  interred  with  that  inimitable  a<Sor : 
for  what  Cardinal  Bembo  has  faid  of  Nature  on  the  tomb  of  Raffael,  may  be  fuid  of  Shake- 
fpear on  the  tomb  of  Garrick. 

[o]  When  one  of  the  perfons  alTumes  a  charadter  different  from  his  own  it  is  the  bufinefs 

of  the  aflor  to  mark  the  diftindion,  and  make  the  real  charafter  appear  through  the  feigned 

one.     Johnfon  has  obferved,  '  that  Garrick  did  not  play  Archer  in  the  Beaux  Stratagem 

'  well.     The  gentleman  fliould  break  out  through  the  footman,  which  was  not  the  cafe  as 

'  he  did  it.'    Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  Vol.  ii.  p.  62. 

Romeo 


Note  V.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  333 

Romeo  alfo  furely  ads  contrary  to  the  general  tendency  of  his  cha- 
radler  when  after  the  fall  of  [p]  Paris,  on  being  requefted  by  his  dying 
rival  to  lay  his  body  by  Juliet,  he  anfwers  coolly,  and  rather  lightly, 
*  In  faith  I  will.'  And  on  recognizing  his  face  he  confiders  him  as  an 
objed  of  pity,  and  feems  really  concerned  for  him  though  his  rival,  and 
the  occafion  of  Juliet's  death. 

Valentine's  offer  of  refigning  Sylvia  to  Protheus  is  a  ftriking  inilance 
of  the  fame  impropriety  in  our  great  dramatic  poet;  if  that  play  [q^], 
which  I  greatly  doubt,  is  really  a  produflion  of  Shakefpear.  Farquhar 
has  added  to  this  impropriety  when  he  makes  Aimwell  fay  to  Archer 
in  the  Beaux  Stratagem,  '  Take  the  ten  thoufand  or  the  Lady ;'  and  in 
Archer's  brutal  anfwer  to  Dorinda,  when  fhe  expreffes  her  furprize  at 
the  offer. 


[p]  The  author  of  the  Remarks  makes  a  curious  obfervation  on  thefe  lines  fpoken  bj 
the  prince. 

*  And  I  for  winking  at  your  difcords  too 
'  Have  loft  a  brace  of  kinfmen.' 

His  kinfinen  he  fays  are  Mercutio  and  Benvolio,  and  therefore  propofes  to  reftore  a  line 
which  mentions  the  death  of  the  latter.  This  ought  to  be  a  good  leflbn  to  commentators, 
as  it  fliews  how  they  are  able  fometimes  to  fee  what  is  invifible,  and  to  fliut  their  eyes  againft 
what  flares  them  in  the  face.  Mercutio  and  Paris  are  obvioufly  the  prince's  relations.  Romeo 
on  firft  feeing  the  face  of  Paris,  calls  him  Mercutio's  kinfman.  And  in  the  dramatis  perfonae, 
which  is  arranged  rather  according  to  political  than  poetical  rank,  ihe  firft  charadter  mentioned 
is  Efcalus,  prince  of  Verona  :  the  fecond  Paris,  kinfman  to  the  prince. 

[qJ]  If  the  hand  of  Shakefpear  is  to  be  traced  in  any  part  of  the  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona,  I  think  it  is  in  the  charadlers  of  Launce  and  Speed,  which  much  refemble  Lancelot 
yi  the  Merchant  of  Venice. 


In 


334  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  xv. 

In  the  fong  fuppofed  to  be  written  by  Lovemore  for  the  widow  Bel- 
mour  in  the  Way  to  Keep  Him,  and  which  is  fuppofed  to  give  his 
own  fentiments,  there  is  a  ftrong  inftance  not  only  of  inconfiftency  but 
abfolutely  of  oppoiition  in  this  Une. 

'  Turn  the  chief  of  your  care  from  your  face  to  your  mind.' 

Now  the  only  caufe  of  Lovemore's  indifference  to  his  wife  is  her 
having  done  this  very  thing ;  and  the  whole  tenor  of  the  drama  is  to 
enforce  the  contrary  condud:,  and  fhew  a  woman  that  fhe  ought,  after 
marriage,  to  facrifice  to  the  graces  as  well  as  to  the  virtues. 

There  is  a  fimilar  negledt  in  that  excellent  comedy  the  School  for 
Scandal,  when  Charles  Surface  fays  to  Sir  Oliver  on  his  being  difco- 
vered,  *  Believe  me  when  I  tell  you,   (and  upon  my  foul  I  would  not 

*  fay  it  if  it  was  not  fo,)  if  I  do  not  feel  mortified  at  tlie  expofure  of  my 

*  follies ;  it  is  becaufe  I  feel  at  this  moment  the  warmeft  fatisfadtion  at 

*  feeing  you  my  liberal  benefadtor.'  This  is  quite  inconliftent  with  the 
charader  of  Charles,  and  would  have  exadlly  fuited  Jofeph  in  the  fame 
fituation,  as  it  conveys  a  premeditated  fentiment,  and  is  befides  obvi- 
oufly  an  untruth. 

I  will  now  produce  three  inftances  from  works  of  narrative  imitation, 
and  thofe  juftly  in  the  highefl  clafs  of  eftimation.  To  begin  with  Don 
Quixote.  In  the  part  firfl  publiflied  by  Cervantes,  and  his  fubfequent 
addition  in  confequence  of  a  fpurious  attempt  by  another  hand,  he  has 
two  diftindl  charadlers.     *  In  the  firft  part  it  is  true  he  is  not  drawn  as 

*  an  abfolute  maniac,  when  he  is  not  difcourfing  of  knight  errantry, 

*  but  all  his  converfation  is  tinged  with  Angularity ;  and  the  pertinent 

*  things 


Note  V.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  335 

*  things  he  fays  are  incoherently  arranged,  and  themfelves  out  of  place ; 
^  as  for  inftance,  his  long  fpeech  to  the  goatherds  about  the  golden  age  : 

*  but  in  the  fecond  part  he  is  made  a  man  of  found  judgment  and  ele- 

*  gant  literature  when  the  immediate  fubjedt  of  his  madnefs  is  not 
touched  upon  [r].' 


£5 

< 


My  next  inftance  is  from  a  work  which  is  of  undoubted  excel- 
lence indeed,  leaving  every  work  of  the  fame  nature  far  behind. 
I  mean  the  charadler  of  AUworthy  in  Tom  Jones.  He  has  always 
appeared  to  me  a  flriking  inftance  of  a  charadler  at  oppofition 
with  himfelf,  though  more  perhaps  in  general  with  that  which  the 
author  tells  you  in  his  own  perfon  he  is,  than  with  his  own  con- 
du(fl  in  thofe  parts  where  the  author  fuffers  him  to  a<ft  from  himfelf. 
The  author  is  at  great  pains  to  inform  us  frequently  that  he  is,  though 
no  fcholar,  a  man  of  fenfe  and  difcernment,  with  a  benevolence  almoft 
angelic  ;  and  to  prefs  this  more  forcibly  on  our  minds,  he  has  given 
him  a  name  ftrongly  expreffive  of  his  moral  goodnefs,  though  all  his 
other  charadters  have  common  names  [s].  But  how  is  he  really  drawn? 
He  is  the  dupe  of  every  infinuating  rafcal  he  meets ;  and  a  dupe  not  of 
the  moft  amiable  kind,  fince  he  is  always  led  to  adls  of  juftice  and  fe ve- 
rity. The  confequence  of  his  pliability  is  oftener  the  punidiment  of 
the  innocent  than  the  acquittal  of  the  guilty ;  and  in  fuch  punishment 
he  is  fevere  and  implacable.  As  in  the  cafe  of  Jones  himfelf,  his  fup- 
pofed  father  and  mother,  and  black  George.  He  fuffers  his  adopted 
fon  and  his  foundling  to  be  ill  treated  by  an  imperious  pedagogue,  whofe 

[r]  See  Andrews's  Anecdotes,  p.  31.  Article  Books.  [s]  See  Note  iii.  Ch.  ix. 

whole 


336  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

whole  chara(5l:er  and  converfation  is  a  fatire  on  chriftianity,  and  to  have 
their  principles  corrupted  by  a  hypocritical  infidel. 

The  third  inftance  Is  not  fo  ftriking,  but  is  I  think  to  be  found  in  a 
charafter,  whofe  Angularity  as  well  as  general  uniformity  with  itfelf  is 
univerfally  and  defervedly  admired,  and  was  a  particular  favorite  with  its 
author  on  this  very  account.  I  mean  [t]  Sir  Roger  de  Coverly  in  the 
Spectator.  But  is  his  condudl  throughout  the  work  confonant  with  the 
original  delineation  of  his  character  ?  Or  can  his  Angularities,  however 
amiable  and  however  entertaining,  be  at  all  faid  to  [u]  '  proceed  from 

*  his  good  fenfe,  and  be  contradidlions  to  the  manners  of  the  world, 

*  only  as  he  thinks  the  world  is  in  the  wrong  ?' 

There  are  many  comedies  whofe  cataflrophe  depends  entirely  on  this 
want  of  uniformity  of  manners.  I  mean  thofe  in  which  the  event  of 
the  fable  turns  on  an  entire  and  radical  change  of  charadler  in  one  of 
the  principal  perfons.  Where,  as  Mr.  Harris  obferves,  with  as  much 
humour  as  juflice,  •  The  old  gentleman  of  the  drama,    after  having 

*  fretted  and  flormed  through  the  firfl  four  ad:s,  towards  the  conclufion 

*  of  the  fifth  is  unaccountably  appeafed.     At  the  fame  time  the  diffipated. 

*  coquette,  and  the  diflblute  fine  gentleman  whofe  vices  cannot  be  occa- 

*  fional  but  muft  clearly  be  habitual,  are  in  the  fpace  of  half  a  fcene. 

[t]  The  charadler  of  Sir  Roger  did  not,  it  feems,  fuit  the  delicacy  of  Shenftone.  In  his 
Eflays  on  Men,  Manners,  and  Things,  where  he  chufes  to  draw  what  he  calls  a  chara6ter» 
and  a  moft  infipid  one  it  is,  and  make  him  talk  common-place  nonfenfe  among  the  tombs  at 
Weftminfler,  he  concludes  by  faying  he  '  fometimes  boafted  that  he  was  a  diftant  relation  of 

*  Sir  Roger  de  Coverly.'     If  he  was,  '  I  am  afraid  his  lady  mother  played  falfe,'  for  there  is 
not  the  moft  diftant  family  likenefe.. 

[u]  Spedtator,  No.  11* 

*  mlracu- 


Note  i.  POiETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  337 

*  miraculouily  reformed,  and  grow  at  once  as  completely  good  as  if  they 

*  had  never  been  otherwife.' 


Some  inftances  may  however  be  produced  in  which  a  fudden  and  yet 
lading  reformation  may  not  be  improbable,  as  in  Lady  Townly.  We 
may  conceive  a  young  woman  of  good  natural  difpofition,  but  led  into 
habits  of  diffipation  by  company  and  fafhion,.  to  be  really  convinced  of 
her  error  by  one  ftriking  incident :  but  we  can  never  believe  that  any 
thing  can  cure  the  brutal  fufpicion  of  Stridlland  [x]. 

[x]  No  two  paflions  can  be  more  different  than  jealoufy  and  fufpicion.  The  one  is  the 
offspring  of  brutality,  and  may  be  unconnected  with  love;  the  other  is  the  certain  proof  of  a, 
moft  violent  and  unreafonable  paflion.  Hoadley  in  the  Sufpicious  Hulband  has  once,  and  I 
believe  once  only,  confounded  thefe  charafters  when  he  makes  Stridlland  fay  he  cannot  bear 
that  even  a  woman  fhould  parwlce  in  his  wife's  love.  This  is  jealoufy  though  puflied  to 
excefs.  Mrs.  Brooks  in  Emily  Montague  makes  Colonel  Rivers  exprefs  the  violence  of  his 
paflion  in  thefe  words  :  '  I  would  engrofs,  I  would  employ,  I  would  abforb  every  faculty 
'  of  that  lovely  mind.'  Othello  reafons,  if  I  may  ufe  the  expreflion,  in  the  feme  mannerj , 
when  he  fays, 

— — .  <  I'd  rather  be  a  toad, 
<  And  feed  upon  the  vapor  of  a  dungeon, 

*  Than  keep  a  corner  in  the  thing  I  love 

•  For  other's  ufes/— — 


Xx  NOTE 


y^^  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 


NOTE      VI. 

EVEN  IF  AN  INCONSISTENT  PERSON  IS  THE  OBJECT  OF  IMITA- 
TION, THE  CHARACTER  SO  IMITATED  SHOULD  BE  MADE 
CONSISTENTLY    INCONSISTENT. 

MR.  TWINING  begins  one  of  his  notes  (loi)  with  the  ohfer- 
vation  that  Ariftotle  affords  fo  many  paffages  to  exercife  the  penetration 
and  conjectures  of  the  critics,  that  they  might  be  perfedly  fatisfied 
without  inventing  them  when  they  do  not  find  them.  An  obfervation 
that  feems  pecuharly  applicable  to  this  paflage,  which  I  own- appears- 
to  me  perfeftly  plain,  and  in  the  common  and  literal  acceptation  very 
naturally  and  even  neceflarily  connected  with  what  immediately  precedes 
it.  After  Ariftotle  had  mentioned  confiflency  as  one  of  the  effential 
requifites  of  manners,  it  occurred  to  him  that  there  might  he,  and 
perhaps  he  recollected  there  adually  were,  charafters  whofe  leading 
feature  was  inconfiftency ;  and  that  he  might  be  fuppofed  to  mean  that 
the  manners  of  fuch  perfons  were  improper  for  poetical  imitation.  He 
therefore  explains  himfelf  by  faying  fucli-  characters  were  not  improper, 
provided  the  inconfiflency  was  kept  up  throughout  the  whole  conduit 
of  the  character,  and  the  perfon  was  not  made  to  aCt  confidently  with 
himfelf  in  fome  infiances,  and  inconfiflently  in  others.  A  very  learned 
and  elegant  critic  however  has  chofen  to  give  a  new  meaning  to  this 
obfervation.  One  of  his  objections  is,  that  fuch  an  inconfifirent  cha- 
racter is  not  proper  for  tragedy.  He  was  induced  to  this  idea  by  the 
character  given  to  Tigellius  by  Horace,  which  fo  naturally  fuggcfts  itfclf 
to  the  recollection  of  the  reader.     But  it  is  by  no  means  improbable, 

that 


Note  vi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  339 

that  fuch  charadlers  may  be  found  in  the  higher  and  more  ferious  ranks 
of  life,  the  confequences  of  whofe  inconfiftency  may  be  as  produdtive  of 
tragic  diftrefs  as  that  of  Tigellius  is  of  comic  ridicule  [x]. 

Bifhop  Hurd  is  at  great  pains  to  prove,  that  by  o^oiKui;  uv'ofAa.'kov  he 
means  that  a  perfon  in  fome  things  inconiiftent,  may  yet  be  fo  managed 
by  the  poet  as  to  be  made  confiftcnt  with  the  bafis  of  his  charaiter. 
And  as  an  example  of  this,  he  brings  Eleftra,  and  ftrange  to  tell,  Iphi- 
genia,  the  very  charader  marked  out  by  Ariftotle  to  exemplify  blame- 
able  inconfiftency  of  manners.  The  Bifliiop  fays,  that  Iphigenia  is 
more  eafily  vindicated  from  this  charge  of  inconfiftency,  than  even 
Eledlra,  notwithftanding  this  charge  of  Ariftotle  againft  her.  It  may 
be  fo  J  but  if  it  is  fo,  if  Ariftotle  knew  what  he  meant,  or  had  any  mean- 
ing at  all,  he  could  not  intend  to  praife  in  Eledtra  what  he  cenfures  in 
Iphigenia.  If  the  charader  of  Iphigenia  is  an  inconfiftency  confiftent 
with  the  bafis  of  the  charafterj  it  is  proof  poiitive  that  fuch  is  not  the 
meaning  of  Ariftotle's  ofji-uXug  dvoft-uMv,  which  muft  be  fome  quality  that 
the  manners  of  Iphigenia  did  not  pofiefs.  To  bring  the  very  characfler 
quoted  by  Ariftotle  as  an  inftance  of  the  breach  of  a  dramatic  rule,  for 
an  example  of  the  exception  to  fuch  rule  on  his  own  fuppofed  principles, 
and  that  by  changing  the  received  and  obvious  meaning  of  the  words 
defining  fuch  exception,  can  hardly  be  juftified  by  the  canons  of  fober 
eriticifm. 

The  idea  of  Mr.   Markland,  mentioned  by  Mr.  Twining,  that  the 
inconfiftency  of  Iphigenia  '  was  intended  by  the  poet  as  a  moral  leflbn, 

[x]  See  Mr.  Twining,  Note  iii,  whofe  obfervations  oti  this  pafiage,  and  on  theBiflaop  of 
Worcefter's  eriticifm,  are  as  ufual,  accurate  and  convincing. 

X  X  2  *  a  ftrik- 


( 


340  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

*  a  flriking  pidure  of  the  "  levity  and  inconfiftency  of  the  human  mind," 
reminds  us  of  an  obfeivation  of  Brumoy,  on  part  of  the  conduit  of 
Jocafta  in  the  CEdipus  of  Sophocles.     *  We  perceive  (he  fays)  that  the 

*  trouble  of  CEdipus  has  fo  much  encreafed,  and  that  his  fcruples  con- 

*  cerning  the  death  of  Laius  have  taken  fuch  deep  root  in  his  heart,  that 

*  Jocafta,  to  deliver  him  from  them,  becomes  all  at  once  pious  inftead 

*  of  impious,  as  fhe  appeared  at  firft.     She  goes  to  confult  the  gods  : 
admirable  charadler !  {he  is  a  free-thinker  in  the  firft  adt  and  now  a 

*  religious  enthufiaft,  and  this  becaufe  both  the  effedts  are  produced  by 

*  the  different  circumftances  fhe  is  in.     Such  is  the  human  heart.     In 

*  going  to  the  temple  fhe  meets  the  Corinthian  fliepherd,  who  reaflures 

*  her  concerning  the  fate  of  CEdipus,  and  flie  thinks  no  more  of  the 

*  gods.' 


By  the  way,  after  all  to  take  the  Bifliop's  own  words,  is  not  the  fub- 
ilance  of  them  a  diftindlion  without  a  difference  ?  for  what  is  fuch  a 
charadter  as  Tigellius  but  an  inconfiftent  perfon  drawn  confiftent  with 
tlie  bafis  of  his  character,  fince  that  bafis  is  inconfiftency  ? 

NOTE     VII. 

so    ACHILLES    IS    DRAWN    AS    A    GOOD    CHARACTER     EVEN     BY 

HOMER. 

THE  paragraph  preceding  that  of  which  this  fentence  is  the  con- 
clufion,  whether  from  being  difplaced  by  tranfcribers  or  from  the  deful- 
tory  mode  of  compofition  fo  frequently  apparent  in  this  work,  feems  to 
have  little  to  do  with  the  reft  of  this  chapter.  Here  however  Ariftotle 
returns  to  his  fubjed:.     He  has  before  been  giving  examples  of  the 

breach 


Note  VII.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  34.J 

breach  of  three  of  the  efTential  qualities  of  manners,  goodnefs  as  in  the 
characfler  of  Menelaus,  propriety  as  in  Ulyffes  and  Menalippe,  and  con- 
fiftency  as  in  Iphigenia.  We  may  now  fuppofe  him  to  recoUeft  his 
omiflion  of  the  other,  of  which  probably  the  Achilles  in  the  fame  tra- 
gedy may  have  been  generally  quoted  as  an  example,  where,  in  order  to 
give  him  the  requifite  poetical  goodnefs  of  charaifler,  the  poet  has  deviated 
from  his  traditional  manners,  and  even  the  manners, according  to  Plato  [y], 
given  him  by  Homer.  In  anfwer  to  this  the  critic  points  out  the  mode 
by  which  the  faults  of  a  traditional  charader  maybe  fo  reprefented  as  not 
to  lofe  their  refemblance,and  yet  retain  the  necefTary  poetical  goodnefs  j  and 
this  he  not  only  gives  fuch  direftions  how  to  perform  as  muft  appear  to 
every  perfon  perfedly  confonant  with  reafon,  but  he  illuftrates  it  by  the 
example  of  the  ufual  pradice  of  another  imitative  art.  And  having  done 
this,  he  obferves  that  even  Homer,  who  has  been  fuppofed  to  have  fol- 
lowed a  different  plan,  has  really  given  the  requifite  poetical  goodnefs  of 
charader  to  Achilles. 

The  contrary  opinion  however  feems  to  have  been  generally  adopted, 
even  by  the  moderns ;  and  many  are  ready  to  join  in  opinion  with  Dr, 
Jortin,  as  quoted  by  Mr.  Twining ;  *  that  Achilles  is  a  boiflerous,  rapa- 
*  cious,  mercenary,  cruel  and  unrelenting  brute ;  and  the  reader  pities 
'  none  of  his  calamities,  and  is  pleafed  with  none  of  his  fucceffes.'  This 
is  rather  a  fummary  mode  of  deciding  a  queftion  by  a  fentence,  which  if 
juft,  is  a  compleat  condemnation  of  the  father  of  poetry,  and  all  his  ad- 
mirers.    For  if  Homer  has  fo  drawn  Achilles  as  to  make  him  not  only 

[y]  See  the  pafTage  quoted  from  Plato's  Republic,  by  Mr.  Twining,  where  the  Achilles  of 
Homer  is  accufed  of  poflefling  together  the  two  oppofite  vices  of  mean  rapacioufnefs,  and  info- 
lent  contempt  both  of  gods  and  men. 

compleatly 


342  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  xv, 

compleatly  bad,  but  compleatly  defpicable  and  uninterefting,  the  Iliad 
is  effentially  defective ;  and  thofe  who  have  admired  it,  or  rather  have 
pretended  to  admire  it,  have  adled  in  oppofition  to  their  own  feelings. 
Perhaps  maay  modern  readers,  and  Dr.  Jortin  among  the  reft,  have  never 
been  much  interefted  either  in  the  character  of  Achilles  or  in  any  part  of  tlie 
Iliad  or  Odyffey  -,  as  thefe  divine  poems  are  feldom  introduced  to  us  in  a 
very  plealing  manner,  and  as  early  affociations  of  ideas  are  not  very  eafily 
eradicated  [z],  perhaps  feme  feehngs  of  reftraint  and  punifhment  may 
always  be  connected  with  a  work  with  which  we  were  firft  acquainted, 
under  the  influence  of  fuch  circumftances.  To  recur  to  my  own  feel- 
ings on.  this  fubjed,  it  happened  to-  me,  that  my  firft  knowledge  of  the 
Tale  of  Troy  divine  was  unaccompanied  by  any  reftraint,  and  yet  drawn 
from  the  Iliad.  •  [a-]  Pope's  Homer  being  one  of  the  firft  books  I  ever 
read  for  my  own  amufement,  I  declare  I  was  as  much  interefted  in  the 
charafter  of  Achilles  as  I  ever  was  for  the  moft  perfed  hero  of  novel  or 
romance.     I  certainly  was  then  no  critic,  and  had  never  heard  of  Ari- 


[z]  I  think  this  is  a  ftrong  objedlion  to  the  ufe  of  the  fcriptures,  in  the  teaching  either 
Enghfh,  Latin,  or  Greek. 

[a]  I  do  not  pretend  to  fay  Pope  gives  an  accurate  copy  of  the  original,  but  a  much  more 

perfe£t  idea  of  the  general  flory  of  the  Iliad  would  be  acquired  even  by  Ogilvie's  tranflatJon, 

read  fo  as  to  comprehend  the  whole,  than  by  reading  and  ftudying  the  original  in  parts.     I 

could  gain  a  more  accurate  idea  of  the  general  and  relative  fituation  of  a  country  by  looking  at 

a  map  for  ten  minutes,  than  I  could  by  riding  over  it,  without  fuch  afllftance,  in  as  many  years. 

Mr.  Spence  declares  in  his  Polymetis,  he  never  perfeiSUy  underftood  the  Epiftles  and  Satires  of 

Horace,  as  to  their  general  connecSUon,  till  he  read  Pope's  Imitations  of  them.     Pope  has  not 

given  Achilles  virtues  denied  him  by  Homer ;  but  a  ftriking  inftance  of  the  contrary  conduft. 

is  pointed  out  by  Dr.  Beattie  in  his  Eflay  on  Poetry  and  Mufic,  Part  i.  Chap.  iv.  page  8i. 

note.    In  the  lame  place  will  be  found  a  complete  and  unanfwcrable  defence  of  the  Achilles  of 

Homer  againft  fuch  critics  as  Dr.  Jortin. 

ftotle. 


Note  VII.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  343. 

llotle,  and  what  I  read  of  him  occaiionally  in  th»5  notes  t  did  not 
underftand ;  but  I  as  certainly  could  not  be  deceived  as  to  my  own 
feelings. 

How  often  have  we  heard  the  abfurd  flory  of  Achilles  being  invulne- 
rable every  where  except  in  the  heel,  (which  is  mentioned  by  no  ancient 
writer  except  Statins)  imputed  to  Homer,  [b]  Tom  Brown,  of  facetious 
memory,  but  a  very  good  ckffical  fcholar,  taking  this  for  granted,  makes 
this  curious,  and  indeed  if  he  were  right-  in  his  firft  aflertion,  juft  re- 
mark.   '  Homer  not  only  makes  Achilles  invulnerable  every  where  but  in 

*  his  heel,  but  likewife  bcftows  a  fuit  of  impenetrable  armour  upon  his  in-- 

*  vulnerable  body,  [c]  Bully  Dawfon  would  have  fought  the  devil  with 
'  thefe  advantages.'  So  far  however  has  Homer  been  from  giving 
Achilles  any  unfair  advantage  over  his  principal  antagonift,  that  he  takes 
great  pains  to  make  Hedlor  his  match.  Whatever  excellence  there  was 
in  armour  made  by  a  divine  artifl  and  given  by  the  gods,  fuch  armour 
was  poflefTcd  by  Hedlor;  as  he  had  taken  from  Patroclus,  the  arms  worn 
by-  Achilles  through  the  firil  nine  years  of  the  war ;  and  as  for  his  being 
invulnerable,  befides  the  proof  I  have  brought  [d]  elfewhere,  and  parti'- 
cularly  the  wound  o-ven  him  by  Afleropsus  in  his  hand,  in  the  twenty- 
firft  Iliad ;  in  the  eighteenth  Iliad,  vv'hen  the  body  of  his  friend  Patroclus 

[b]  He  was  the  firfl  Englifh  critic  who  noticed  the  impropriety  of  calling  fuch  irregular 
compofitions  as  the  Odes  of  Cowley,  Pindaric  Odes. 

[c]  For  an  account  of  this  hero,  the  reader  is  referred  to  a  note  on  the  fecond  number  of 
the  Spedlator.     Edition  of  1789. 

[d]  In  a  note  on  verfe  112  (82  in  the  tranflation)  of  the  ninth  Olympic  Ode  of  Pindar. 


344  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

is  on  the  point  of  being  feized  by  the  Trojans,  and  he  is  defired  to  in- 
terfere by  a  meflage  from  Juno,  he  excufes  himfelf  and  with  fome  degree 
of  petulance  as  if  to  an  unreafonable  requeft  [e].      '  How  can  I  go  into 

*  the  battle  ?     They  have  got  my  armour,  and  I  know  of  no  other 

*  whofe  armour  I  can  put  on  unlefs  the  fhield  of  Ajax  Telamon,  and 

*  that  is  I  hope  already  engaged  among  the  front  ranks  of  the  battle.' 
If  Achilles  was  invulnerable  then  he  did  not  know  it  himfelf.  Neither 
did  Euftathius  who,  though  he  has  a  long  note  on  this  paffage,  does  not 
drop  the  remoteft  hint  of  it  [f]. 

[e]  See  Iliad  xviii.  v.  187.  I  have  not  taken  Mr.  Pope's  verfion,  becaufe  when  an  author 
is  quoted  to  eftablilh  any  point  of  this  fort,  his  literal  fenfe  is  neceflary ;  befides  the  word  arms 
ufedby  Popeis  equivocal,  but  the  Greek  words  Mew  and  rixtyix  fignify only  defenfive  armour. 
Pope  however,  though  the  words  he  puts  in  the  mouth  of  Achilles  are  not  fo  expreflive  of  in- 
dignation as  the  original,  fhews  he  felt  the  idea,  by  adding — '  He  cries,  (with  fury  warm'd.') 

[f]  In  the  note  on  Pindar  above-mentioned,  I  have  taken  notice  of  an  obfervation  of  a 
fcholiaft  on  that  poet,  and  another  on  verfe  820  of  Iliad  xxiii,  which  fhew  that  Ajax  being 
invulnerable,  was  a  popular  ftory  among  the  ancients.  In  Villoifon's  edition  of  Homer,  with 
the  ancient  Scholia,  where  particular  paffages  are  diftinguifhed  by  fuch  a  mark  as  this  J-  > 
which  is  called  <J'itA?  xai&a/>a,  there  is  one  on  that  very  verfe,  and  its  occafion  noted  in 
thefe  words,  n  JittAji  oti  tx  tbt.wv  xai  tup  toujtwv  (foavilxi  xa9  Ofj-rfiov  y,ri  uv  ocrpulo;  a 
Ai'aj  :  '  The  mark  is  put  becaufe  from  this  verfe  and  others  like  it,  it  appears  that  Ajax  was 

*  not  invulnerable  according  to  Homer;'  a  proof  certainly  that  there  was  an  opinion  at  leaft 
tiiat  Homer  had  made  Ajax  invulnerable,. 


NOTE 


Note  viii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  345 


NOTE     VIII. 

THESE  RULES  OUGHT  TO  BE  OBSERVED  j  AND  NOT  ONLY  THESE, 
BUT  SUCH  ALSO  AS  REGARD  THOSE  OBJECTS  OF  THE  OTHER 
SENSES  THAT  NECESSARILY  ACCOMPANY  DRAMATIC  POETRY.. 

BY  this  I  imagine  Ariftotle  means  the  theatrical  apparatus,  fuch  as 
the  di-efs,  and  mafks  of  the  adlors,  on  the  proper  adapting  of  which  to 
various  charadlers,  much  of  the  effedl  of  dramatic  reprefentation  muft 
have  depended. 

In  the  article  of  drefs  both  the  ancient  and  modern  theatre  w^ere  much 
in  the  fame  circumftance ;  but  as  to  the  mafks,  the  ancients,  at  leaft  in 
comedy,  as  we  may  gather  from  Julius  Pollux,  were  mechanically  exadt 
in  adapting  them  to  particular  characters,  which  cannot  be  the  cafe  as  to 
the  modern  ftage  where  the  adlors  appear  without  fuch  monflrous  dif- 
guifes. 

However  the  manners,  both  as  to  the  drefs  and  the  figure  of  the 
adtors  may  be  divided  in  the  fame  way  as  in  the  compofition  of  the 
drama  itfelf. 

For  firfl  as  to  goodnefs.  It  is  obvious  that  the  drefs  of  the  charadlers 
not  only  in  tragedy,  but  in  comedy  and  even  farce,  mufl  be  above  the 
level  of  real  life,  as  is  evident  in  the  theatrical  reprefentation  of  fliepherds 
and  beggars.  As  to  the  perfon  of  the  performer  the  fame  holds  in  a 
more  elTential  degree    efpecially   in    adtrefles.     In  real  life  we   know 

Y  y  from 


346  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xv. 

from  every  day's  experience,  that  very  plain  women  are  capable  of  ex- 
citing very  violent  attachment ;  and  if  we  look  among  our  acquaintance 
for  thofe  who  have  formed  imprudent  connexions  with  the  fex,  we  fhall 
not  always  find  the  objedls  remarkable  for  their  perfonal  charms.  But 
a  perfon  who  does  not  feel  this  particular  attachment,  or  if  he  does, 
contemplates  it  in  another  perfon,  can  only  conceive  beauty  as  the  natural 
objedl  of  love.  [g]  A  Romeo  therefore  fighing  to  an  ugly  Juliet,  and 
apparently  turned  of  forty,  will  not  only  excite  ridicule  but  difguft.  The 
theatre  is  much  more  delicate  in  this  refped:  than  it  was  formerly.  I 
have  feen  Mr.  Havard  and  Mrs.  Pritchard  perform  Conftant  and  Lady 
Brute,  when  the  progrefs  of  age  and  decay  was  marked  not  only  by  their 
figure  but  by  the  tremulous  modulation  of  their  voice.  This  however 
never  appeared  in  Garrick ;  he  adted  even  young  Hamlet  and  Archer 
with  propriety  till  he  quitted  the  ftage. 

One  of  the  moft  beautiful  and  elegant  women  living  either  on  or  off 
the  ftage  will,  I  hope,  forgive  me  for  citing  her  as  an  example  of  an 
impropriety  exadly  of  an  oppofite  nature ;  I  mean  in  the  charafter  of 
Mrs.  Oakley.  I  will  not  pretend  to  determine  how  far  a  moft  lovely 
and  accomplifhed  woman  might,  in  real  life,  contrive  to  render  hcrfelf 
difagreeable  and  troublefome  to  a  hufband,  by  conftant  and  unreafonahle 
jealoufy ;  but  every  general  fpedtator  will  be  rather  inclined  to  think  the 
man,  whom  Mifs  Farren,  from  fufpicious  fondnefs,  cannot  bear  to  have  out 
of  her  company  a  moment,  an  objed:  of  envy  rather  than  pity  or  ridicule. 

The  requifite  of  goodnefs  alfo  on  the  modern  theatre  applies  to  the  fce- 
nery,  asin  chambers  and  cottages;  indeed  this  is  alfo  fometimes  defeftive 

[g]  See  Hill's  Aclor,  paflim. 

from 


Note  viir.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  347 

from  being  too  good.     There  Is  no  poffibility  of  reprefenting  the  infide  of 
Bobadil's  '  convenient  cabin,'  on  a  London  theatre. 


Secondly,  The  drefs  and  perfons  of  the  performers  fliould  be  In  cha- 
radler,  and  the  fcenery  Hkewife.  A  foldier  iliould  not  be  dreffed  hke  a 
fenator  or  a6ted  by  an  old  or  feeble  man ;  neither  flaould  the  fcene  re- 
prefent  a  room  when  the  dialogue  fliews  the  adion  is  in  a  wood. 

The  third  requifite  differs  from  this  only  as  particular  charad:ers  do 
from  general   ones.     Prince  Henry  fliould  not  be  as  fat  as   FalflafF. 
Firelocks  fliould  not  be  Introduced  at  the  battle  of  PhilippI  i  nor  fliould 
the  fcene  reprefent  St.  James's  Park  when  Richard  falls  by  the  hand  of 
his  competitor  in  Bofworth  field. 

A  breach  of  the  fourth  requifite  confiflency  was  fully  exemplified  by  the 
praftlce  of  the  old  theatre  taken  notice  of  In  Note  v.  on  Chap.  vi.  when 
one  or  two  charafters  only  were  dreffed  In  the  habit  of  the  time  or  place, 
of  the  drama,  and  the  refl  in  the  fafhionable  drefs  of  the  day» 


Yy2  CHAP. 


548  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xvi. 


CHAP.      XVI. 

NOTE      I. 

THE  DISCOVERY  HAVING  BEEN  ALREADY  DEFINED,  WE  V^^ILL 
NOW    DISTINGUISH    ITS    DIFFERENT    FORMS. 

THE  FIRST,  WHICH  IS  THE  LEAST  ARTFUL,  AND  TO  WHICH 
THE  GENERALITY  OF  POETS  IN  THEIR  DEFICIENCY  OF  GENIUS 
RESORT,    IS    THAT    BY    TOKENS. 

X  HE  cridc  having  in  the  eleventh  chapter,  given  a  general  definition 
of  the  difcovery  as  an  efTential  incident  to  the  intereft  of  poetic  fable, 
proceeds  now  to  mention  and  diflinguifli  the  merit  of  its  various  forms, 
beginning  according  to  his  ufual  method  with  that  which  he  efleems 
lowefl:  in  point  of  excellence. 

He  divides  this  mode  by  tokens,  firft  into  natural  and  adventitious ; 
and  thefe  he  fubdivides  again  into  fuch  as  are  produced  on  purpofe  and 
fuch  as  happen  accidentally.  Of  all  thefe  our  theatre  affords  examples. 
The  tokens  that  occafion  the  difcovery  of  Douglas  and  of  Indiana  in  the 
Confcious  Lovers,  are  accidental  and  adventitious.  That  of  Almanzor 
in  the  Conqueft  of  Grenada  is  accidental  and  natural.  That  of  Arviragus 
in  Cymbcline  is  natural  and  fhewn  on  purpofe.     That  of  [a]  Sir  William 

[a]  Perhaps  this  does  not  exaftly  come  under  the  predicament  of  the  fpear  and  embroidery 
of  Dieftes,  as  he  is  rather  recognized  by  his  perfon  than  his  ftar  and  ribbon. 

Hopeywood 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  349 

Honeywood  in  the  Good-natured  Man,  is  adventitious  and  fhewn  on 


purpofe. 

I  confefs  I  do  not  fee  the  difference  as  to  merit,  between  the  acci- 
dental and  intentional  difcovcry  which  Ariftotle  infifts  on,  and  upon 
which  his  general  fcale  of  excellence  feems  fo  much  to  depend.  This 
circumftance  feems  to  me  to  be  entirely  regulated  by  the  fituation  of  the 
charadier.  If  he  even  knows  himfelf  his  own  fituation  and  wiflies  to 
conceal  it,  as  in  the  cafe  of  Ulyffes  and  Euryclea  in  the  nineteenth  book 
of  the  Odyffey,  it  mufl  be  accidental,  as  it  certainly  muft  if  he  is  igno- 
rant of  his  own  fituation  as  in  Douglas.  But  if  confcious  himfelf  who  he 
is,  though  concealed  from  others,  he  chufes  to  difcover  himfelf  as  in  the 
cafe  of  Ulyffes  to  Eumaeus  and  Philstius  in  the  twenty-fecond  book  of 
the  Odyffey ;  or  if  unconfcious  himfelf,  a  perfon  who  knows  his  fitua- 
tion like  the  old  man  in  Merope  and  Belarius  in  Cymbeline  difcovers 
him,  I  mull  think  the  intentional  difcovery  infinitely  preferable. 

The  intentional  difcovery  even  by  merely  throwing  off  a  difguife,  as 
in  the  Countefs  of  Salifbury,  and  the  Duke  in  Meafure  for  Meafure,  has 
a  fine  theatrical  effect.  Perhaps  there  is  no  inffance  more  flriking  than 
jEneas's  difcovery  of  himfelf  in  the  fecond  ^neid. 

[b]  '  Coram  quem  qua^ritis  adfum 

'  Troius  iEneas  Libicis  ereptus  ab  undis.' 

fi]  The  fpirit  of  this  is  loft  in  the  tranflations.  For  me  to  attempt  the  reftoratioii  of  it 
after  fuch  names  as  Dryden  and  Warton,  would  be  at  once  folly  and  prefumption.  Shakefpear 
however  has  caught  it  not  indeed  from  Virgil,  but  from  nature. 


This  is  I- 


'  Hamlet  the  Dane  — ■ 

NOTE 


350  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xvi. 


NOTE     ir. 

THE     SECOND     ARE    THOSE     INVENTED    BV    THE    POET    AND 
THEREFORE    INARTIFICIAL. 

THIS  paflage  at  firft  fight  appears  very  extraordinary  as  all  the  modes 
of  difcovery  may  be  faid  to  be  invented  by  the  poet.  But  Ariftotle  foon 
explains  himfelf  by  the  example  he  gives  of  [c]  Oreftes  in  the  Iphigenia. 
in  Tauris,  who  is  not  difcovered  to  his  lifter  as  flie  is  to  him  by  a  na- 
tural and  accidental  circumftance,  but  from  faying  what  the  poet  chofe 
to  put  in  his  mouth  :  that  is  in  fadl  by  declaring  diredtly  he  is  Oreftes,. 
and  bringing  fuch  proof  as  he,  or  rather  the  poet  thought  necelTary,  as 
defcribing  a  particular  fpear,  and  a  piece  of  Eledtra's  embroidery,  which 
ufed  to  be  in  her  chamber,  and  which  from  the  referved  life  of  the  wo- 
men of  Greece,  could  have  been  only  feen  by  a  near  connexion  as  a 
father  or  brother.  But  this  mode  of  difcovery  the  critic  adds  borders 
on  what  he  had  blamed  in  the  former  fpecies,  the  introdudlion  of  tokens 
for  the  fole  purpofe  of  confirming  the  difcovery  j  for  Oreftes  might  as 
well  have  [d]  adlually  introduced  a  token,  as  recalled  the  memory  of  one. 
For  this  fenfe  of  the  paffage  I  acknowledge  myfclf  obliged  to  Mr. 
Twining.  It  perfeftly  agrees  with  the  context.  The  fimilitude  be- 
tween this  and  the  firft  mode  is  ftriking  as  well  as  with  the  web  of 
Philomela  J  for  however  affeftcd  «  the  voice  of  a  fliuttle'  may  be  to 

[c]  Perhaps  the  whole  circle  of  fable  ancient  and  modern,  does  not  afford  a  more  iriterefting 
a^d  afte(£ling  difcovery  than  that  of  Jofeph  to  his  brothers  in  the  facred  fcriptures. 

[^o]  E^ic  ya.^  t'l/i*  KKi  hiyuM,     See  note  on  the  tranflation, 

exprefs- 


V 
Note  hi,  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  351 

exprefs  [e]  a  ftory  reprefented  in  embroidery,  it  feems  to  be  the  moft 
reafonable  interpretation  that  can  be  given  of  it :  and  its  refemblance 
with  the  embroidery  of  Eledtra  is  very  obvious.  Neither  do  I  think  the 
objedlion  flarted  by  Mr.  Twining,  that  a  traditional  circumftance  like 
this,  could  not  be  faid  to  be  an  invention  of  the  poet  has  much  weight. 
For  though  the  flory  is  now  very  common  from  being  related  in  fo 
popular  a  work  as  Ovid's  Metamorphofes,  it  does  not  follow  it  was  fo 
in  the  time  of  Sophocles,  or  that  he  might  not  have  invented  it  in  the 
tragedy  now  mentioned.  That  fuch  a  thing  is  very  poffible  appears  from 
the  tale  of  Achilles  being  invulnerable [f];  which,  though  imputed  to 
Homer,  feems  to  have  originated  with  Statius. 

NOTE     in. 

THE    THIRD    FORM    IS    BY    RECOLLECTION. 

THIS  cannot  mean  that  the  recoUedlon  is  itfelf  the  immediate  caufe 
of  the  difcovery,  but  that  it  occafions  the  perfon  recolledling  to  difcover 
himfelf  by  fome  fudden  exclamation,  paffion,  or  adtion.  For  fuch 
are  the  two  examples  given  by  Ariftotle.  A  perfon  burfling  into  tears 
on  the  fight  of  a  pifture  [g],  and  Ulyffes  weeping  at  the  recital  of  his 

[e]  This  is  however  greatly  foftened  by  the  very  probable  conjeiSture  of  Mr.  Twining,  that 
this  expreffion  is  not  the  language  of  Ariftotle  but  a  quotation  from  the  tragedy.  Suppofe  the 
words  in  anfwer  to  a  queftion  of  Tereus,  '  Whofe  voice  condemns  me  ?'  and  accompanied  with 
the  produflion  or  mention  of  the  web. 

[f]  See  Note  vii.  Chap.  xv. 

[g]  Virgil  if  he  had  chofen  it,  might  have  availed  himfelf  of  this  circumftance,  which  he  has 
ufed  in  his  firft  iEneid,  to  have  difcovered  jEneas  to  Dido,  but  he  preferred  the  mode  men- 
tioned in  the  firft  note  on  this  chapter. 

own 


352  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xvr. 

own  adventures.  The  difcovery  of  Lady  Randolph  to  the  old  Shepherd 
in  Douglas,  and  that  of  Julia  in  the  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  where 
fhe  faints  on  hearing  Valentine  offer  Sylvia  to  his  rival,  are  exactly  in  the 
fame  predicament. 

Perhaps  the  moft  whimfical  difcovery  in  any  drama,  and  which  is  alfo 
caufed  by  a  fudden  exclamation,  is  in  the  original  French  opera  of  Richard 
Cceur  de  Lion,  where  the  old  Knight  is  difcovered  to  be  an  Engliflimaa 
by  faying  goddam. 


NOTE     IV^ 

THE    FOURTH    IS    BY    REASONING. 

THIS  mode  of  difcovery  muft  alfo  come  under  the  fame  clafs  witli 
the  preceding  one,  and  arife  from  fome  fudden  efFed:  wrought  on  the 
charadler  by  his  reafoning,  or  rather  from  his  reafoning  being  over-heard, 
which  occafions  his  difcovery,  and  not  from  the  reafoning  itfelf.  For  an 
inference  occafioned  by  the  circumftances,  is  the  fburce  of  every  kind  of 
difcovery ;  as  recolledlion,  mentioned  in  the  lafl  note  is  the  caufe  of  our 
recognizing  the  perfon  in  the  morning  whom  we  parted  with  the  evening 
before.  Befides  all  the  examples  given  by  Ariftotle  imply  this,  except 
that  from  theChoephori  if  the  tragedy  of  that  name  written  by^Efchylus  i& 
meant,  which  remains  to  be  proved,  [h],  as  feveral  tragedies  of  the  fame 
name  and  even  on  the  fame  ftory  may  diifer,  and  frequently  do,  as  to  the 
manner  of  arranging  the  circumftances  of  the  fable,  and  bringing  about 
the  cataftrophe. 

[h]  See  Note  iv.  Chap,  xviii.     See  alfo  Mr.  Twining,  Note  130. 

Tills. 


Nqtev.  poetic  of  ARISTOTLE. 


253 


This  mode  feems  to  border  ftrongly  on  the  worft  poflible  difcovery 
that  of  over-hearing  a  foUloquy,  as  in  the  difcovery  of  King  Henry  to 
the  Foreflers  in  Hen.  VI.  Part  in. 


NOTE      V. 

THERE    IS    ALSO    A    COMPOUND   [l]   SPECIES   OF    DISCOVERY  ARISING 
FROM    A    FALSE    REASONING    OF     THE    SPECTATORS. 

THE  precife  meaning  of  the  paragraph  of  which  this  fentence  is  a 
part,  and  efpecially  the  example  included  in  it,  baffles  all  conjedlure. 
The  only  rational  meaning  that  can  be  fuppofed  is,  that  befides  thefe 
modes  of  difcovery  where  the  reafoning  is  juft,  there  may- be  a  mode  in 
which,  from  the  combination  of  various  circumftances,  the  fpecflator  may 
be  induced  to  think  there  is  fufficient  proof  to  infer  the  reality  of  the 
perfon  difcovered,  and  yet  on  examination  fuch  an  inference  will  not  lo- 
gically follow  from  the  premifes. 

As  to  the  tragedy  produced  as  an  example,  all  feems  utter  obfcurity. 
I  will  however  mention  a  conjeiflure  on  the  fubjedl  communicated  to  me 
by  a  learned  and  ingenious  friend,  which  is  at  Icaft  very  plaufible.  He 
fuppofes  the  tragedy  in  queflion  to  be  taken  from  the  difcovery  of 
UlyfTes  to  Penelope  in  the  tv/enty- third  book  of  the  Odyfley,  and  in 

[l]  Ariftode  calls  this  mode  of  difcovery  2TN0ETOS  ix.  zra^aXoyi(rfxs  tS  iiUTpa.  <  Synthefis 
*  by  combining  fimple  terms  produces  a  truth'  (or  a  fal/hood  if  the  premifes  or  reafoning 
are  falfe  ex  wapaXoyio-fAS).  Hermes,  Book  i.  Chap.  i.  page  3,  and  then  in  a  note. 
Uffii  ydg  a-vv^Kriv  xa)  iicli^ia-iv  eV'  to  ^ivSc;  ts  y.xi  to  dXrScu  '  True  and  falfe  are  feen 
'  in  compofition  and  divifion,' 

Z  z  which 


354  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xvi. 

which  he  Is  difguifed  as  a  meflenger  inftead  of  a  beggar ;  a  change  cer- 
tainly very  confonant  with  the  dignity  of  tragic  reprefentation  when 
compared  with  epic  defcription.  And  he  propofes,  that  inftead  of  to^ov 
we  fliould  read  TOi%(w[K].  This  conceded,  the  whole  anfwers  my  notion 
of  the  fenfe  of  the  paffage.  Penelope  who  is  neither  fatisfied  of  the  identity 
of  UlylTes,  by  the  teftimony  of  Telemachus  and  Euryclea,  nor  by  a  miracle 
wrought  in  favour  of  her  hufband  by  his  reftoration  to  the  youth  and 
figure  he  pofTefTed  on  his  leaving  her  twenty  years  before,  is  at  laft  con- 
vinced by  his  defcription  of  her  nuptial  bed,  which  he  had  framed  him- 
felf,  and  which  no  one  elfe  had  fccn  but  a  faithful  flave  named  Adloris. 

*  The  fecrets  of  the  bridal  bed  are  known 

*  To  thee,  to  me,  to  Aftoris  alone, 

'  (My  father's  prefent  in  the  fpoufal  hour, 

*  The  fole  attendant  on  our  genial  bower,) 

*  Since  what  no  eye  has  feen  thy  tongue  reveal'd, 

*  Hard  and  diftruftful  as  I  am,   I  yield.' 

Pope's  Odyfley,  L.  xxiii.  v.  241. 
Original,  v.  225. 

[k]  Tlie  words  are  fo  alike  as  to  be  eafily  confounded  by  a  carelefs  or  a  conceited  tran- 
fcriber,  who  recolle£ting  how  much  depends  on  a  bow  at  the  conclufion  of  the  OdyfTey,  might 
be  tempted  to  change  them  on  purpofe,  as  the  article  to  which  marks  the  gender,  Mr.  Win- 
ftanley  obferves  is  omitted  in  one  ms.  The  word  Toi^oi  feems  particularly  applied  to  a  bridal 
chamber  in  Canticles,  Chap.  11.  ver.  9. 

'iSov  8T0;  ifrtxsi/  uTTiau  ra  roip^a  nfj-uv 
TlapoixvTrluii  J'la  ruv  0upi'(J'w^. 

I  know  the  interpreters  render  this  wall,  but  it  docs  not  feem  to  agree  with  the  context; 
and  the  Hebrew  word  7nD  which  occurs  only  in  this  place,  feems  derived  from  the  fame  word  in 
Arabic,  which  as  a  verb  fignifies,  to  unite,  coegit  in  unum,  and  as  a  fubftantive,  union, 

ADUNATIO,  CUM  QUID  SIMUL  COGITUR. 

This 


Note  V.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  355 

This  certainly  was  not  a  fufficient  proof  of  the  identity  of  Ulyiles  [l], 
becaufe  there  was  a  poflibility  of  Adtoris  having  betrayed  the  fecret  j 
therefore  whatever  may  have  been  the  cafe  with  the  fpedators  of  the 
Ulyfles  Pfeudangelus,  the  readers  of  the  Odyffey  if  they  fuppofe  the 
difcovery  of  Ulyfles  to  Penelope  compleatly  confirmed  by  this  circuni- 
ftance  are  guilty  of  a  paralogifm,  they  draw  a  falfe  conclufion  from 
the  premifes.  I  muft  add,  that  in  real  life  we  often  find  perfons  raifing 
objedions  where  no  difliculty  occurs,  objeding  to  arguments  that  ought 
to  convince  them,  and  being  fatisfied  at  lafl  by  a  reafon  that  ought  not  to 
convince  them  [m]. 

There  is  an  objedlion  however  to  this  folution  which  it  is  neceflary  to 
notice.  The  difcovery  of  Oreftes  to  Iphigenia  mentioned  in  Note  ir. 
on  this  Chapter,  is  exadlly  liable  to  the  fame  obfervation.  The  fpear 
and  embroidery  might  as  well  have  been  known  to  other  eyes  befides  thofe 
of  Oreftes,  as  the  bridal  chamber  of  Penelope  might  to  others,  befides 
Ulyfi^es  and  Aftoris.     The  force  of  this  objedlion  will  depend  much  on 

[l]  See  Pope's  Note  on  v.  183,  of  the  twenty-third  book  of  his  tranflation  of  the  Odyfley. 
One  part  of  which  in  particular  is  fo  very  appofite  to  this  paflage  that  I  {hail  cite  it.  '  Granting 
♦  that  the  perfon  before  her  [Penelope]  was  a  real  man,and  that  no  man  but  Ulyfles  was  acquainted 
»  with  the  nuptial  bed,  it  follows  that  this  man  is  the  real  Ulyfl'es.'  But  neither  of  thefe  pre- 
mifes can  be  granted.  For  the  perfon,  as  fuggefted  by  Euftathius,  might  have  been  a  god,  or 
Adtoris  might  have  betrayed  the  fecret  to  a  man. 

[m]  Though  the  bed-chambers  of  the  Grecian  ladies  were  fo  much  more  fecluded  from 
general  obfervation,  than  thofe  of  the  beauties  of  modern  Europe,  yet  perhaps  it  would  not  have 
been  out  of  character  in  Penelope,  confidering  her  extreme  incredulity,  to  have  faid,  on  this  laft 
proof  with  Pofthumus  in  Cymbeline, 

— —  '  This  is  a  thing 
'  Which  you  might  from  relation  likewife  reap,' 

Z  z  2  the 


356  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xvi. 

the  ufual  accuracy  or  inaccuracy  of  Ariflotle's  examples,  and  the  obfer- 
vation  of  the  reader,  whether  he  finds  them  comprehending  every  cir- 
cumftance  of  refemblance,  or  only  pointing  in  one  particular  inflance  to 
the  objeft  he  wifhes  to  illuftrate. 

There  is  a  paflage  in  the  [n]  twenty-fourth  chapter  of  the  Poetic 
where  Ariftotle  is  fpeaking  of  the  epopee,  obvioufly  alluding  to  the  fame 
fubjedt,  and  equally  obfcure.  Had  either  been  clear  it  might  have  illuf- 
trated  the  other ;  perhaps  fome  happier  critic  may  be  able  to  flrike  out 
a  fpark  of  light  from  their  mutual  opacity. 


NOTE     VI. 

BUT    OF   ALL    MODES    OF    DISCOVERY,    THAT    IS    THE    BEST   WHICH 
IS    DERIVED    FROM    THE    CIRCUMSTANCES    THEMSELVES. 

I  PERFECTLY  agree  with  Mr.  Twining,  Notes  133,  134,  in  confi- 
dering  this  as  diftinguiflied  by  the  critic  from  all  the  other  claffes.  In- 
deed this  is  not  only  exprefsly  marked  by  the  word  '  alone'  (jttova<)  but 
from  the  real  fad: :  for  befides  the  jewels  and  natural  marks  which  are 
necelTary  either  for  the  produdtion  or  confirmation  of  the  difcovery  in  the 
two  firfl  forms,  thofe  tokens  alfo  which  are  in  confequence  of  recollec- 
tion and  inference,  may  equally  be  efteemed  not  only  as  inventions  of  the 
poet,  but  as  invented  for  the  immediate  purpofe  of  the  difcovery. 

[n]  See  Note  vii.  Chap.  xxiv. 

To 


Note  VI.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  357 

To  form  a  proper  dilcovery  of  this  kind  is  of  all  the  arts  of  the  poet 
by  far  the  moft  difficult,  [p]  We  have  already  mentioned  hov/  hard  a 
tafk.  it  is  to  keep  a  principal  characSter  concealed  both  from  the  audience 
and  other  perfons  of  the  drama  during  the  courfe  of  the  play,  by  what- 
ever mode  the  difcovery  is  made  ;  but  when  the  difcovery  at  lail:  is  to 
arife,  and  be  confirmed  by  the  preceding  incidents  only,  the  difficulty 
is  increafed  to  fuch  a  degree  as  to  be  only  furmountable  by  the  efforts  of 
fuperior  genius.  What  can  put  both  the  invention  and  judgment  of 
the  poet  to  fo  great  an  exertion  as  to  contrive  his  incidents  in  fuch  a 
manner  that  the  audience,  or  the  reader  fhould  never  once  conceive  the 
real  fituation  of  his  principal  charadler,  and  yet  when  his  real  fituation 
Is  revealed,  it  fliould  be  confirmed  by  a  retrofped:  examinate  of  thofe 
incidents. 

My  moft  diligent  recolledlion  will  furnifh  me  with  no  example  anci- 
ent or  modern  of  a  compofition  in  which  this  arduous  tafk  is  flridly 
and  perfecftly  executed,  except  that  wonderful  effort  of  judgment  and 
imagination  the  comic  epopee  of  Tom  Jones.  No  reader  I  believe  ever 
gueffed  that  the  hero  of  the  piece  would  turn  out  to  be  the  nephew  of 
AUworthy  and  the  fon  of  Mrs.  Bridget,  till  the  moment  before  the 
difcovery  takes  place,  and  yet  how  natural  is  the  behaviour  of  thofe 
who  know  the  clrcumftance,  when  the  incidents  are  examined  afterwards. 
With  what  nice  touches  is  the  conduct  of  the  mother  exprefled,  and 
efpecially  her  partiality  to  Jones ;  and  Dowling,  when  he  accidentally 
meets  Jones  on  the  road,  adtually  calls  AUworthy  his  uncle  without 
giving  the  reader  the  leafl  fufpicion  of  the.  truth ;  fo  inimitable  is  the 
art  of  the  poet. 

[p]  See  Note  11.  Chap.  xi.  and  Note  iv.  Chap.  xiv. 

The 


358  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xvr. 

The  CEdipus  though  a  mafterpiece  of  this  kind  is  by  no  means  of 
equal  merit,  [o^]  It  was  impoflible,  during  fo  longa  ftay  at  Thebes,  but 
CEdipus  muft  have  heard  of  the  death  of  Laius,  and  the  expofure  of  his 
infant  fon,  fo  concurrent  with  the  refponfe  of  the  oracle  to  him,  which 
occafioned  his  determination  not  to  return  to  Corinth.  Ariftotle  ob- 
ferved  this  defedl,  and  he  has  tried  to  palliate  it  by  remarking  that  it 
occurred  prior  to  the  opening  of  the  drama,  or  as  Mr.  Bays  would  have, 
exprell'ed  himfelf,  •  Long  before  the  beginning  of  the  play.' 

[qJ  See  Note  v.  Chap,  xm» 


CHAP. 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  359 


CHAP.      XVII. 

NOTE    I. 

THE  POET  AS  WELL  WHEN  HE  COMPOSES  THE  INCIDENTS  AS 
WHEN  HE  ADDS  THE  LANGUAGE,  OUGHT  AS  MUCH  AS  POS- 
SIBLE TO  CONSIDER  EVERY  THING  AS  PASSING  BEFORE  HIS 
EYES. 

J.  HIS  rule  [a],  by  which  the  epopee  is  much  lefs  fhackled,  though 
by  no  means  exempt  from  its  obfervance,  is  of  the  utmoft  confequence 
to  the  dramatic  poet.  As  to  the  inilance  of  a  drama  failing  in  the  re- 
prefentation  from  a  negled:  of  this  necefTary  care  which  Ariftotle  ad- 
duces, though  the  particular  tragedy  is  loft,  we  may  eafily  fupply  the 
nature  of  the  error  from  conjediure.  We  may  fuppofe  Amphiaraus  to 
be  in  a  temple  out  of  which  it  was  impoffible  for  him  to  come  unob- 
ferved  by  the  fped:ators,  and  then  to  appear  on  the  ftage  without 
being  perceived  to  come  out  of  it. 

From  this  obfervation  Dacier  infers  the  flrift  attention  to  the  unity  of 
place  on  the  ancient  theatre,  of  which  we  have  fpoken  fo  largely  be- 
fore [b].  But  furely  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  It  was  undoubtedly 
not  the  general  pradlife  of  the  ancient  theatre  to  change  the  fuppofed 
icene  of  adtion.  And  as  the  adlion  from  the  continued  prefence  of  the 
chorus  was  feldom  if  ever  interrupted,  it  was  barely  poiTible  that  a  cha- 

[a]  See  Note  v.  Chap.  xxiv.  [b]  Sec  Note  iii.  Chap.  y. 

radcr. 


360  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.xvii, 

ra<5ler,  after  being  fuppofed  to  go  into  a  confined  place  in  the  fight  of 
the  fpedlators  could  be  conceived  to  come  out  again  unfeen  by  them, 
without  violating,  not  the  arbitrary  rules  of  the  drama,  but  the  natural 
probability  of  the  reprefentation.  And  on  the  other  hand,  from  the 
frequent  change  of  fcene  and  intervals  of  adbion  this  may  happen  on  the 
modern,  or  at  leaft  on  the  Englifli  ftage,  without  the  leaft  abfurdity. 
But  neverthelefs  though  this  is  generally  true  of  both,  it  is  not  univer- 
fally  true.  When  a  change  of  fcene  is  plainly  implied  by  the  language 
and  incidents  of  the  Grecian  drama,  fuch  an  event  may  take  place  there 
WITHOUT  improbability  J  and  if  the  identity  of  place  and  continuation 
of  action  is  marked  in  an  Englifli  drama,  fuch  an  event  cannot  take  place 
WITH  propriety.  In  the  Eumenides  of  ^^fchylus,  where,  after  Apollo 
has  perfuaded  Oreftes  to  quit  his  temple  at  Delphos  and  repair  to  that 
of  Minerva  at  Athens,  his  perfecutors  follow  him,  and  afterwards  he 
goes  out  himfelf ;  they  may  without  impropriety  all  enter  again  at  the 
fame  door,  becaufe  that  door,  though  according  to  the  apparatus  of  the 
ancient  theatre  exadly  the  fame,  is  now  fuppofed  to  be  changed  from 
the  temple  of  Apollo  to  that  of  Minerva ;  fmce  between  the  verfes  234 
and  235  the  fcene  is  obvioufly  changed  from  Delphos  to  Athens,  and 
as  Oreftes  and  the  chorus  immediately  appear,  there  muft  be  a  break  in 
the  adion  comprehending  a  confiderable  interval  of  time.  And  in  an 
Englifti  play  reprefented  even  without  fcenery  in  a  private  houfe,  if  a 
charadler  were  to  go  into  a  door,  we  will  fuppofe  as  into  a  clofet  to  be 
concealed,  (a  common  incident  in  comedy,)  and  during  the  obvious 
continuation  of  the  fcene  appear  at  another  door,  fliould  not  we  laugh 
at  the  ftriking  impropriety?  Or  to  take  a  contrary  inftance  from  a  parti- 
cular play  ;  if  in  the  laft  fcene  of  the  Clandeftine  Marriage,  Sir  John 
MelyiUe  were  to  come  out  of  the  very  door  from  which  Lord  Ogleby  is 

fummoning 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  ^6t 

fummoning  him,  we  fliould  hardly  agree  with  the  learned  Serjeant  in 
pronouncing  it  to  be  the  clearefl  ALiiii  we  ever  faw  proved. 

The  Lift  fcene  of  Shakefpcar's  Romeo  and  Juliet  feems  to  be 
at  the  fame  time  both  within  and  vvlthout  the  monument  of  the 
Capulets.  The  duel  between  Romeo  and  Paris  is  in  the  church-yard. 
The  death  of  Romeo,  as  alfo  the  awakening  and  death  of  Juliet  muft 
be  within  the  monument,  the  infide  of  which  could  not  be  feen  from 
the  church-yard,  as  on  the  entry  of  Friar  Laurence  he  only  difcovers  a 
light  in  it,  on  a  nearer  approach  he  difcerns  the  blood  of  Paris  on  the 
ftoney  entrance,  and  obvioufly  on  looking  down  into  the  vault  difcovers 
the  bodies  of  Romeo  and  Paris.  To  fliew  how  this  confirms  the  doc- 
trine of  Ariflotle  as  to  the  difference  between  the  epopee  and  tragedy  in 
this  refpecfl,  I  never  was  ftruck  by  it  though  a  frequent  and  attentive 
reader  of  our  immortal  bard,  till  I  faw  Mr.  Northcote's  pidlure  in  the 
Shakefpear  Gallery,  who  has  drawn  the  fcene  in  the  infide  of  the  vault 
with  the  body  of  Romeo  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  ftairs  that  lead  down 
to  the  bottom  of  it. 

In  the  play  as  now  reprefented  this  is  entirely  obviated  by  the  judi- 
cious alteration  of  Mr.  Garrick.  For  Juliet  awakens,  and  comes  out 
of  the  tomb  as  Romeo  is  about  to  enter  it. 

It  is  neceflary  alfo  for  the  dramatic  poet  to  adapt  his  language  to  the 
adlion  that  muft  accompany  it,  efpecially  in  thofe  ftriking  fituations 
which  are  moft  calculated  to  produce  ftrong  theatrical  effe(3:[c].     An 

[c]  We  have  no  appropriated  name  for  thefe  in  Englifli.    The  French  call  them  coups 

JDf  THEATRE. 

3  A  over- 


362  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.xvii. 

over-fight  of  this  kind  feems  to  occur  in  the  Grecian  Daughter.     When 
Euphrafia  ftabs  Dionyfius  fhe  exclaims, 

*  A  daughter's  arm  fell  monfter  flrikes  the  blow, 

*  Yes  firft  flie  ftrikes ;  an  injur'd  daughter's  arm 

*  Sends  thee  devoted  to  th'  infernal  gods.' 

All,  or  at  leafl  the  greateft  part  of  this  feems  to  be  intended  to  precede 
the  blow :  and  yet  probability  rec^uires  that  the  blow  of  a  woman  that 
kills  an  armed  warrior  fhould  be  unforefeen  and  fudden  [d].  The  Regent 
aiFords  another  inftance  of  this  kind  of  impropriety.  Jufl  at  the  con- 
clufion  the  Duke  and  the  Ufurper  engage  hand  to  hand  before  all  the 
Duke's  friends.  They  fhould  either  have  fought  before  the  Duke's 
attendants  had  arrived,  or  in  prefence  of  both  parties  who  might  have 
fceen  fuppofed  to  have  mutually  awed  each  other  from  interfering  [e].^ 

[d]  Mrs.  Siddons  felt  the  force  of  this.     She  ftrikes  Dionyfius  without  fpeaking  a  word, 
and  repeats  the  pafTagc  over  him  as  he  lies  on  the  ground. 

[e]  See  this  circumftance  compared  with  what  Ariftotle  fays  of  the  battle  between  Achillea 
and  Hedtor  in  the  Iliad.    Note  v.  Chap.  xxiv. 


NOTE 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  363 


NOTE     II. 

THOSE  WHO  ARE  MOVED  BY  PASSIONS  THEMSELVES  WILL  EX- 
PRESS THOSE  PASSIONS  MOST  FORCIBLY  FROM  THEIR  OWN 
FEELINGS.       HENCE    HE    WHO    IS    REALLY    AGITATED,    STORMS, 

AND    HE    WHO    IS    REALLY    ANGRY   UPBRAIDS   MOST   TRULY   AND 

rr-'- 

NATURALLY. 

IT  is  furprifing  that  this  fenfe  of  the  laft  fentence  of  the  quotation 
which  is  the  obvious  and  literal  tranflation  of  the  Greek,  and  exadlly  an 
illuftration  of  the  precept  and  obfervation  it  follows,  and  with  which 
the  fucceeding  comparifon  fo  exadlly  agrees,  fhould  have  had  a  different 
meaning  given  it  by  all  the  tranflators  and  commentators  before  Mr. 
Twining ;  who  indeed  has  not  himfelf  admitted  it  in  the  body  of  his 
tranflation,  though  he  has  compleatly  eflabliflied  it  in  a  note  (138),  to 
which  the  reader  who  entertains  any  doubt  on  the  matter,  is  referred  for 
convidlion.  The  general  fenfe  hitherto  given  has  been  the  neceffity  the 
poet  has  of  feeling  himfelf,  who  wifhes  to  affedt  the  feelings  of  others, 
and  indeed  this  is  the  ultimate  meaning  of  the  precept,  and  therefore 
it  is  virtually  though  not  literally  of  the  fame  weight  with  the  obferva- 
tion of  Horace. 

[f]  *  To  make  me  grieve  be  firft  your  anguifli  (hewn.* 

COLMAN,    v.   154. 

[f]  '  Si  vis  me  flere  dolendum  eft 

'  Primum  ipfi  tibi,'— — 

HoR.  Art.  Poet.  v.  ic2. 

3  A  2  But  .^ 


364  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xvii. 

But  Arlftotle  is  not  contented  with  faying  what  ought  to  be  the  final 
efFedl  on  the  fpeftator  or  reader,  he  is  telhng  us  how  to  produce  the 
caufe  of  that  effedl,  which  is  the  natural  exprefiion  of  the  paffion  by 
the  poet,  and  which  can  only  be  done  by  his  entering  himfelf  into  the 
feelings  of  thofe  he  reprefents.  By  doing  this,  he  fays,  he  will  certainly 
find  the  proper  means  of  expreffing  thofe  feelings  ;  for  who  can  fo  well 
utter  the  language  of  any  pafiion  as  he  who  is  at  the  time  under  the 
aftual  influence  of  it ;  having  faid  this  he  purfues  it  no  further,  it  being 
obvious  that  the  beft  and  moft  natural  expreffion  of  pafiion  will  awake 
the  fi;rongefi;  fympathy  in  the  mind  of  the  fpedlator. 

It  is  very  apparent  that  the  fame  precept  is  applicable  to  the  adlor. 
In  vain  may  the  poet  paint  the  pafllons  naturally,  if  the  player  does  not 
exhibit  the  pidture  to  advantage  in  the  reprefentation  ;  and  to  do  this 
well,  his  imagination  (hould  be  as  fufceptible  as  that  of  the  poet.  I  have 
already  mentioned  a  fingular  anecdote  from  Hill's  Adlor  in  confirmation 
of  this  [o]. 

The  ancient  adlors  could  not  have  the  fame  powers  of  enforcing  the 
fentiments  of  the  poet  from  their  theatrical  drefs,  or  rather  difguife. 
Yet  even  their  natural  feelings  were  of  great  effeft  in  aflifl:ing  the  truth 
of  their  reprefentation.  There  is  a  remarkable  infi:ance  of  this  kind 
related  by  Aulus  Gellius.     *  There  was  a  celebrated  Grecian  ador  who 

*  excelled  all.  others  in  his  aftion  and  the  elegance  and  clearnefs  of  his 

*  voice.     His  name  was  Polus.     He  performed  the  tragedies  of  the. 
'  befi:  poets  with  propriety  and  confidence.     This  Polus  loft  an  only  fon 

*  whom  he  greatly  loved.     However  when  his  grief  was  abated  he  re- 

[g]  See  Note  iv.  Chap.  xui. 

turned,. 


Note  ir.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  ^65 

*  turned  to  the  exercife  of  his  art.     At  this  time  being  to  play  the  part 

*  of  Electra  in  the  tragedy  of  Sophocles,  at  Athens,  he  was  to  czzvy  an 

*  urn  which  was  fuppofed  to  contain  the  afhes  of  Orcfles.     For  accord- 
)di  ing  to  the  fubje^l  of  the  play,  Eledlra  fuppofing  herfelf  to  carry  the 

*  remains  of  her  brother,  deplores  and  laments  his  death  as  believing 

*  him  to  have  been  murdered.     Polus  there,  drefled  in  the  mournful' 

*  habit  of  Eledlra,  carried  the  urn  and  aflies  of  his  fon  taken  from  the 

*  fepulchre,  and  embracing  them,  as  if  they  were  thofe  of  Orefles,  ful- 

*  filled  every  requifite  of  his  part,  not  with  fictitious  and  imitative  re- 

*  prefentation,  but  with  true  grief  and  ferious  lamentation ;  and  while 

*  he  feemed  to  be  only  afiliming  a  fabulous  character,   was  fincerely 

*  affedted  by  real  forrow.' 

Much  has  .been  faid  of  the  power  of  the  pencil  in  exprefling  at  the  fame 
time  various  and  even  oppofite  paffions.  This  one  of  the  beft  judges  of 
the  fubjeft.  Sir  Jofliua  Reynolds,  has  pronounced  impoflible ;  all  that 
painting  can  do,  which  is  confined  to  an  inftant,  is  to  exprefs  the  fucceffion 
of  paffion  by  the  effedt  of  a  confequence  of  the  former  paflion,  as  a  tear 
ilealing  down  a  countenance  beginning  to  fmile,  as  Andromache 

[h]  '  Mingled  with  her  fmile  a  tender  tear.'  Pope. 

Can  an  a<flor  do  more  r  or  as  much  as  we  talk  of  being  torn  by  con- 
tending paffions,  are  we  ever  at  the  fame  inftant  aftually  occupied  by 
two  of  a  different  tendency,  though  the  tranfition  may  be  fo  fudden  as 
not  to  be  eafily  perceptible  ? 

Hill 


366  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xvii. 

Hill  in  his  Adtor  fays,  *  Had  I  the  power  I  would  make  a  fingle  tear 
*  ileal  down  the  unaltered  face  of  Cato  while  he  fpeaks  the  famous  line, 

**  Thanks  to  the  gods,  my  boy  has  done  his  duty." 

■*  Though  at  the  expence  of  flriking  out  the  fucceeding  obfervation, 

"  Rome  fills  his  eyes 

*'  With  tears  that  flow'd  not  o'er  his  own  dead  fon." 


NOTE     III. 

HENCE    THE    FICTIONS    OF    A    GOOD    POET    MAY    BE     SAID    TO    RE- 
SEMBLE   THOSE    OF    A    MADMAN. 

I  THINK  not  only  the  context  and  the  fpirit  of  this  chapter,  but 
the  whole  tenor  of  the  treatife  fettles  the  meaning  of  this  palTage  be- 
yond the  poflibility  of  a  doubt.  Had  Ariftotle  been  treating  of  lyric 
and  dithyrambic  poetry  there  might  have  been  fome  reafon  for  fuppofing 
that  by  uuvikS  he  might  mean  only  violent  poetical  enthufiafm,  the 
MENS  DiviNioR  of  Horacc,  which  carried  him 

*  Above  this  vifible  diurnal  fphere.' 

But  the  critic  is  not  here,  nor  in  any  part  of  the  Poetic  fpeaking  of 
daring  flights  of  poetical  fancy,  or  exaggerated  pidures  of  life  and 
manners,  but  is  giving  diredlions  how  befl:  to  excite  the  fentiments  of 
pity  and  terror  by  faithful  and  natural  copies  of  the  real  effeO:  of  thofe 
paflions  on  the  human  breaft,  and  the  external  figns  by  which  they  become 
manifefl: ;  and  I  conceive  f^xviKog  here  to  have  its  fimple  primitive  figni- 
iication  of  a  maniac  or  madman.     We  are  told  that  the  poet  llaould  not 

only 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  ^6j 

only  have  an  eye  to  the  dramatic  effedl  m  his  writings  as  to  the  repre- 
fentation,  but  fhould  alfo  while  he  is  compofing,  put  himfelf  as  much  as 
poflible  into  the  fituation  of  the  charadter  he  is  drawing ;  for  by  feeling 
the  internal  feniation  of  the  paihon  he  will  be  beft  able  to  exprefs  by 
language  the  external  ligns  of  it ;  for  though  no  art  can  come  up  to  the 
real  efFulions  of  nature,  yet  thofe  who  can  moft  eafily  put  themfelves 
from  the  dudlility  of  their  imagination  into  llmilar  fituations,  will  imitate 
them  with  moft  exadlnefs  -,  this  is  obvious  from  what  we  may  obferve 
in  madmen,  they  really  fancy  themfelves  from  the  diforder  of  their 
reafoning  powers  in  fituations  totally  foreign  to  the  truth,  and  the  im- 
preffion  is  fo  ftrong  that  they  adl  and  fpeak  entirely  as  if  they  were  the 
identical  perfons,  and  in  the  precife  fituations  which  their  diftradied. 
fancy  fuggefts  to  them.  Now  a  poet  of  a  lively  and  plaftic  imagination, 
and  who  is  capable  of  entering  into  the  true  fpirit  of  the  charadier  and 
paffion  he  is  going  to  draw,  fhould  in  fome  meafure  partake  of  this 
feature  of  madnefs,  feeling  and  ad:ing,  almoft  as  ftrongly  in  the  fituation 
of  this  imaginary  charadler  from  the  dudlility  of  his  fancy,  as  the  mad- 
man does  from  the  derangement  of  his  intellects. 

In  the  celebrated  paflage  in  the  Midfummer  Night's  Dream,  Shake- 
fpear  has  made  exadlly  the  fame  comparifon ;  undoubtedly  from  his  own 
refledtion,  for  I  believe  none  of  his  moft  fanguine  admirers  will  fuppofe 
him  trying  purpofely  to  illuftrate  a  precept  of  the  Stagirite ;  though  no 
man  who  ever  lived  feems  fo  capable  of  fhootiiig  his  own  foul  into  the 
bofom  of  the  characfler  he  wifhed  to  draw.  His  example  feems  to  be 
particularly  dired:ed  to  the  imitation,  if  I  may  ufe  the  word,  of  fuper- 
natural  and  imaginary  beings,  in  which  he  fo  much  excelled. 


The 


368  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xvii. 

*  The  lunatic,  the  lover,  and  the  poet, 

*  Are  of  imagination  all  compa^fl. 

*  One  fees  more  devils  than  vaft  hell  can  hold. 

*  That  is  the  madman.' 

With  the  lover  we  have  nothing  to  do  here. 

*  The  poet's  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling, 

*  Doth  glance  from  heav'n  to  earth,  from  earth  to  heav'n ; 

*  And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 

'  The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 

*  Turns  them  to  fhape,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 

*  A  local  habitation  and  a  name  ; 

'  Such  tricks  hath  ftrong  imagination.' 

N  O  T  E      IV. 

THE    POET    WHEN    HE    INVENTS     HIS    FABLE    SHOULD    FIRST    FORM 

IT  GENERALLY. 

THE  critic  here  appears  to  illuftrate  what  he  has  faid  before  of  the 
poet's  ilill  retaining  that  charadter  even  when  he  writes  on  known 
ftories  [i].  The  plan  of  the  fable  fhould  firil  be  generally  drawn  ;  the 
plot  and  its  folution  arranged  j  and  then  the  epifodic  and  fubordinate 
parts  added ;  and  it"  the  fable  is  purely  fidtion  the  names  are  invented  j 
if  founded  entirely  or  in  part  on  truth  or  tradition,  they  are  inferted 
from  the  known  flory  j  of  which  laft  method  he  gives  an  inflance  both 
from  the  epopee  and  the  drama. 

[j]  See  Note  v.  Chap.  ix. 

Thefe 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE!.  369 

Thefe  inftances  feem  fufficiently  to  prove  that  Ariftotle  does  not  con- 
fine himfelf  here  to  fuch  fables  as  are  entirely  the  invention  of  the  poet, 
as  Mr.  Twining  imagines,  (Note  142),  for  the  OdyfTey  mufl  be  at  leaft 
a  traditional  if  not  an  hiftorical  fubjeft. 

Perhaps  the  conftrudlion  of  epic  and  dramatic  fable  may  in  this  refpedl 
be  diftinguiflied  by  three  general  claiTes,  though  each  capable  of  receiving 
innumerable  inferior  diftindlions  and  modifications.  Firfl,  thofe  which 
are  purely  hiftorical,  fuch  as  the  Iliad  and  Odyfley,  the  Oidipus,  the 
hiftorical  plays  of  Shakefpear,  and  the  earl  of  Eflex.  Here  the  names 
are  all  hiftorical,  and  the  poet  muft  on  no  pretence  deviate  from  the 
known  ftory  in  eflential  circumftances ;  all  he  can  do  is  to  find  out  fuch 
a  fable,  which  though  founded  in  fadt  has  like  the  Odyfley,  the  proper  re- 
quifites  of  general  truth,  or  may  be  made  to  have  them  by  fome  additional 
touches,  [k]  As  for  inftance  in  the  tragedy  of  the  earl  of  Elfex,  Vol- 
taire is  very  fevere  on  Corneille,  (and  the  fame  reafoning  will  apply  to 
our  tragedies  on  the  fame  fubjed)  for  making  Elizabeth  young  when  fhe 
was  really  a  very  old  woman,  as  ftie  certainly  was  at  the  death  of  Efl*ex. 
M.  Lefling  in  his  Dramaturgic  [l],  though  he  carries,  I  think,  his  no- 
tion of  general  fable  rather  too  far,  adopting  in  fome  meafure  the  opi- 
nions of  Boflu,  anfwers  Voltaire  on  thefe  principles,  that  if  the  queen,, 
though  at  the  age  of  fixty-eight,  was  amorous  and  jealous,  in  confe- 
quence  of  which  an  event  very  proper  for  a  fable  took  place,  there  could 
be  no  impropriety  in  fuppofing  her  age  to  be  more  congenial  with  her 
pafiions  [m].     Were  Elizabeth  oa  the  ftage  to  appear  an  old  woman, 

the 

[k]  See  Note  iv.  Chap.  xv.  [l]  Part  i.  page  57. 

[m]  It  is  impoffible  for  a  drama  to  come  nearer  hiftory  than  the  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
of  Shakefpear,  and  yet  much  of  the  efFefl  would  fufFer  were  one  to  be  reprefented  as  between 

3  B  fiftj 


370  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xvii. 

the  whole  circumftance  of  the  death  of  Effex  would  contain  that  mix- 
ture of  the  dreadful  and  the  abfurd,  which  though  frequently  found  in 
the -tragedies  of  real  life  would  be  very  incongruous  in  dramatic  fable. 

The  next  are  thofe  which  are  partly  hiftorical,  and  partly  ficftitious, 
of  which  perhaps  the  Iphigenia  in  Tauris  may  be  an  inflance  [n].  All 
the  traditional  flory  may  be,  that  on  the  point  of  being  facrificed  {he  was 
faved  by  the  interpofition  of  Diana,  and  the  reft  the  invention  of  the 
poet.  The  i^neid,  and  the  tragedy  of  King  Lear,  as  alfo  the  Paradife 
Loft,  come  under  this  form.  The  chief  art  of  the  poet  here  is  to  draw 
the  manners  of  the  known  charadlers,  as  Ariftotle  requires  with  the 
proper  likencfs.  In  this  the  [o]  ^^neid  is  as  defeftive,  as  the  Paradife 
Loft  is  excellent. 

When  the  fable  and  charad:ers  are  entirely  the  invention  of  the  poet, 
as  in  the  Flower  of  Agatho,  and  in  the  Regent,  the  tragic  and  comic 
writer  are  in  the  fame  fituation  as  to  the  ftrufture  of  the  fable  [p], 
which  they  firft  form,  and  then  add  any  cafual  names. 

fifty  and  fixty  and  the  other  as  forty.  When  Dryden,  without  any  motive,  chufes  in  his  All 
for  Love  to  make  Ventidius  reproach  Antony  with  his  declining  age,  and  his  natural  incapa- 
city for  love,  he  gives  a  ftriking  inftancc  how  the  poet  ought  not  to  arrange  hiftorical  inci- 
dents. 

[n]  There  never  was  a  more  fantaftick  monfter  ifTued  from  the  regions  of  fable  than  thofe 
abfurd  mixtures  of  truth  and  fittion  the  old  French  romance,  fuch  as  the  Grand  Cyrus,  and 
its  fpurious  offspring  the  modern  hiftorical  novel. 

[o]  I  conceive  the  Iliad  as  the  archetype  of  the  received  charaflcrs  of  the  j^lneid. 

[p]  Sec  Note  iii.  Chap.  ix. 

In 


Note  ir.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  371 

In  all  tragedies  founded  on  novels  the  fame  diftinftlons  hold  as  in 
thofe  founded  on  real  hiftory.  This  was  generally  the  cafe  with  our  old 
writers,  and  efpecially  Shakefpear.  I  recolledl  no  other  of  his  plays, 
either  tragedy  or  comedy,  except  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windfor,  for  the 
outline  of  which  he  is  not  indebted  to  fome  old  tale.  The  tragic  poets 
of  the  prefent  day  generally  fupply  both  incident  and  charader  from 
their  own  invention. 


3  B  2  "  CHAP. 


372  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap,  xviii. 


CHAP.      XVIII. 

NOTE      I. 
A  PLOT  AND  ITS  SOLUTION   ARE    INCIDENT    TO   EVERY   TRAGEDY. 

X  H  E  critic  might  have  added,  and  to  every  kind  of  imitative  fable. 

I  found  a  confiderable  difficulty  in  choofmg  proper  terms  to  diftin- 
guifli  thefe  material,  and  indeed  eflential  parts  of  tragedy.  The  word 
plot  indeed  was  perfedlly  familiar  to  the  writers  on  the  drama  half  a 
century  ago,  in  confequence  of  which,  though  it  is  now  out  of  ufe,  I 
have  adopted  it.  The  word  solution,  though  notufual,  I  preferred  to 
borrowing  the  word  denoument  from  our  neighbours,  or  employing 
the  harfli  term  unravelling,  as  it  is  certainly  expreffive  of  the 
meaning  it  is  intended  to  convey.  The  plot  then  contains  every  part 
of  the  tale  that  is  fuppofed  to  happen  before  the  adlual  commencement 
of  the  drama,  or  the  time  fuppofed  to  be  included  in  the  epic  poem 
itfelf,  as  alfo  all  that  is  comprehended  in  them,  during  which  the  fpec- 
tator  is  in  doubt  as  to  the  final  iffue  of  the  ilory.  The  folution  is  the 
clearing  up  of  that  doubt,  whether  produdlive  of  happinefs  or  mifery. 
As  all  that  is  not  folution  is  plot,  (which  comprehends  every  part  of  the 
play  or  poem,  where  the  action  does  not  ftand  ftill,  except  the  cataftrophe, 
and  the  circumftances  from  which  it  immediately  arifes,)  it  will  be  only 
neceffary  to  fpecify  the  folution.  That,  in  the  Iliad  is  the  ceffation  of 
the  rage  of  Achilles ;  in  the  Odyfley  the  death  of  the  fuitors  and  the 
recognition  of  Ulyffes  by  Penelope  j  in  the  iEneid  the  death  of  Turnusj 

in 


NoTEH.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  ^y^ 

in  the  Paradife  Loft  the  fall ;  in  King  Lear,  as  written  by  Shakefpear, 
the  death  of  Cordelia  and  Lear ;  in  Tate's  and  Colman's  alteration  their 
deliverance;  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing  the  vindication  of  Hero's 
innocence ;  and  in  Tom  Jones  the  difcovery  of  his  relation  to  All- 
worthy. 

NOTE     11. 

THE    PATHETIC. 

THE  examples  given  here  of  this  fpecies  of  tragedy,  as  the  ftory 
of  Ixion,  and  efpecially  the  tragedy  of  Ajax,  confirm  what  has  been  faid 
of  the  idea  of  pathos  and  pathetic  among  the  ancients,  as  alfo  what 
Ariftotle  fays  of  the  Iliad  afterwards,  as  diflinguifhed  from  the  OdyfTey  [a]. 
Of  this  kind  of  tragedy  our  old  writers  furnifli  innumerable  examples. 

Shakefpear,  though  by  no  means  fparing  of  blood,  is  much  more 
moderate  than  many  of  his  cotemporaries  in  this  refpedt,  unlefs  we  rank 
Titus  Andronicus  and  the  Yorkfhire  tragedy  among  his  compofitions. 

NOTE     III. 

THE    SIMPLE. 

THIS  fpecies  of  tragedy  has  been  already  noticed  in  the  tenth 
chapter  [b].     In  this  the  folution  riles  from  the  incidents  alone,   the 

[a]  See  Ch.  xi.  Note  [a]  on  the  tranllation,  and  Note  i.  of  the  commentary  on  Ch.  xxiv; 

[b]  See  Note  i.  Chap.  x. 

plot 


374  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap,  xviir. 

plot  naturally  unravels  itfelf  without  any  violent  change.     Venice  Pre- 
ferved  is  an  inilance  of  this  kind. 


NOTE     IV. 

THE  DIFFERTINCE  OR  SAMENESS  OF  ONE  TRAGEDY  AND  ANO- 
THER MUST  NOT  BE  ESTIMATED  BY  THE  FABLE,  BUT  BY 
THE    PLOT    AND    SOLUTION. 

THIS  is  illuflrated  by  the  obfervation  in  the  lafl  chapter  as  to  the 
general  formation  of  the  fable,  and  fubfequent  application  of  names.. 
The  tragedies  of  the  Regent  and  the  Countefs  of  Salifbury,  as  to  the 
general  plan,  and  the  plot  and  folution  are  radically  the  fame,  and  both 
taken  from  the  Odyffey.  While  the  tragedy  of  Zenobia,  written  by 
Mr.  Murphy,  and  Metaftafio's  opera  of  the  fame  name,  though  both 
founded  on  the  fame  hiflorical  event,  related  by  Tacitus,  from  differing 
entirely  as  to  the  arrangement  of  the  fable,  and  the  plot  and  folution, 
are  perfedlly  diftindl  dramas.  A  flronger  inflance  yet  may  be  drawa 
from  Romeo  and  Juliet  and  Caius  Marius,  and  the  Sophonifba  of  Thom- 
fon  and  Lee. 

Thus  the  poet  has  it  in  his  power  to  transfer  the  fame  circumftances 
from  a  popular  to  an  unpopular  fubjedt.  From  whatever  reafon  it 
arifes,  the  obfervation  of  Dr.  Johnfon  that  mythological  fables  do  not 
fucceed  on  the  Englifh  ftage  is  founded  on  experience.  The  Englilh 
like  the  Roman  poets  are  fond  of  domeftic  flory. 

'  Vefligia 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  375 

*  Vefligia  Grasca 

'  Auli  deferere  6c  celebrare  domeftica  fadla  [c].' 

On  which  lines  there  are  fome  very  judicious  oblervations  in  Biftop 
Kurd's  notes  on  the  Epiftle  to  the  Pilbs.  I  think  the  Odyffey  as  proper 
a  fable  for  the  drama  as  any  I  am  acquainted  with.  But  nothing  would 
be  fo  great  an  advantage  as  to  follow  the  example  of  the  [d]  author  of 
the  Countefs  of  Salifbury,  and  give  the  incidents  an  old  English  garb, 
which  is  fo  well  fitted  to  them.  How  eafily  is  the  Trojan  war  changed 
to  a  crufade,  Ulyfles  made  a  feudal  chief,  ([e]  which  by  the  way  he 
much  more  refembles  than  the  pompous  fovereign  Pope  has  made  him,) 
and  concealed  as  a  pilgrim  inflead  of  a  beggar. 

[f]  The  happiefl  inflance  I  know  of  a  tranfition  like  this,  is  the 
Edward  and  Eleonora  of  Thomfon,  taken  from  the  Alceftes  of  Euri- 
pides. 

[c]  «  And  boldly  quitting  Grecia's  beaten  ways, 
'  They  twine  for  native  chiefs,  dramatic  bays.' 

According  to  Le  Pere  Brumoy  the  French  entirely  differ  from  us  in  this  refpeiSt.     See 

DiSCOURS  SUR  LE  PaRALLELE  DES  ThEATRES. 

[d]  I  only  fpeak  as  to  the  defign ;  the  execution  of  it  is  below  mediocrity.  Befides  I  be- 
lieve the  author  never  thought  immediately  of  the  Odyfley,  but  only  copied  it  through  the 
medium  of  the  novel  called  Longfword,  Earl  of  Salifbury. 

[e]  See  Note  i.  Chap.  xxiv. 

[f]  This  was  attended  with  peculiar  difficulty  as  the  Englilh  poet  v/as  obliged  to  produce 
the  folution  by  nature,  which  the  Greek  poet  had  elFe£led  by  a  machine.  On  this  account 
an  improbability  is  incurred  in  the  Englifh  drama.  We  may  allow  Hercules,  after  the  good 
office  he  has  done,  to  play  a  little  with  the  feelings  of  Admetus.  But  to  fuppofe  fijch  cha- 
racters as  Selim,  as  Glocefter,  as  Theald,  and  even  as  Eleonora  herfelf,  would  keep  Edward 

a  moment 


376  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap,  xviii. 


NOTE     V. 

THERE    ARE    MANY    WHO    FORM    THE    PLOT    WELL,    AND    THE 

SOLUTION    ILL. 

THERE  are  two  caufes  which  chiefly  lead  to  this  fault.  One  Is  a 
wearlnefs  of  the  fubjedt  towards  the  end  of  the  piece,  and  the  confe- 
quent  defire  of  precipitating  the  cataftrophe  :  a  fault  fometimes  found  in 
Shakefpear,  in  common  with  other  dramatic  writers  of  his  time  [g].  The 
other  is  when  a  writer  has  fo  involved  his  charafter  in  difficulties,  that 
it  is  out  of  his  power  to  extricate  him  by  probable  means  j  and  not  being 
able  to  untie  the  Gordian  knot,  he  is  forced  to  cut  it  [h]. 

This  obfervation  of  Ariftotle  may  be  inverted  :  for  there  are  poets  who 
form  the  folution  well  and  the  plot  ill.  Such  are  thofe  who,  fixing  on 
fome  ftriking  event  before-hand  for  the  cataftrophe  of  the  piece,  are 
afterwards  at  a  lofs  for  preparatory  incidents  to  fill  up,  with  fufficient 
intereft,  the  long  fpace  of  five  adls  [i]. 

d  moment  in  fufpenfe  is  highly  improbable,  efpecially  as  the  refult  of  Eleonora's  concealment  is 
a  trial  of  the  prince's  conftancy ;  a  moll  indelicate  circumftance,  from  which  Alceftes  is  per- 
fedly  clear,  as  ftie  is  entirely  paflive  in  the  bufinefs.  There  is  fome  refemblance  to  this  in  the 
folution  of  Much  Ado  About  Nothing ;  but  Hero  is  a  moft  infipid  charafler ;  otherwife  flie 
would  not  have  thought  Claudio's  ready  acceptance  of  her  fuppofed  coufin  a  great  compliment 
to  her  own  memory. 

[g]  See  Note  i.  Chap.  vn. 

[hJ  See  Note  vii.  Chap.  xiii. 

[i]  Se,e  Note  ii.  Chap.  xii. 

There 


Note  v.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE,  377 

There  is  an  excellent  obfervation  of  Marmontel  on  this  fubjed.  He 
fays,  '  A  capital  defed,  of  which  the  ancients  fet  the  example,  and 
'  which  the  moderns  have  but  too  much  imitated,  is  the  languor  of  the 

*  folution.     This  defedl  arifes  from  a  faulty  diftribution  of  the  fable  in 

*  five  ads ;  of  which  the  firft  is  devoted  to  the  opening  the  fubjed  to 

*  the  fpedators,  the  three  that  follow  to  the  [k]  complication  of  the  in- 

*  trigue,  and  the  lafl  to  the  folution.     According  to  this  divifion  the 

*  greatefl  danger  lies  in  the  fourth  ad,  and  to  fill  the  fifth  ad  it  becomes 

*  neceflary  to  [l]  unravel  the  intrigue  flowly  and  by  degrees,  which  can- 

*  not  fail  to  render  the  cataftrophe  tedious  and  cold.     But  the  fuddennefs 

*  of  the  folution  ought  nevef  to  lefTen  its  probability,  nor  its  probability 
'  to  leiTen  its  uncertainty.     Conditions  eafily   fulfilled   feparately,  but 

*  very  difficult  to  reconcile  with  each  other. 

*  It  happens  very  rarely  at  prefent,  that  one  or  other  of  thefe  twa 

'  cenfures  is  not  incurred :  the  folution  either  is  deficient  in  point  of 

'  preparation,  or  of  fufpenfe.     We  carry  with  us  to  our  pathetic  plays 

*  two  principles  diredly  oppofite ;  feelings  which  wi(h  to  be  interefted, 
'  and  an  underllanding  which  diflikes  to  be  deceived.     Our  pretenfions 

*  to  judge  of  every  thing  caufe  us  to  enjoy  nothing,     [m]  We  wifh  at 

*  the  fame  time  to  forefee  the  fituations  and  be  aff^eded  by  them ;  to 

*  contrive  with  the  author  and  feel  with  the  people ;  to  have  our  fcnfes 

*  deluded  and  not  deluded.     New  pieces  have  particularly  this  difadvan- 

*  tage  that  we  go  to  them  lefs  as  fpedators  than  as  critics.     There  every 
'  connoifleur  is  as  it  were  double,  and  his  heart  finds  a  verv  troublefome 

[k]  '  Au  no£ud  de  I'intrigue.*  [l]  Denouer. 

[m]  The  critic,  as  defcribed  here,  is  juft  in  the  fituation  of  a  man  who  wiflies  at  the  fame 
time  to  be  deceived  by  the  tricks  of  a  juggler,  and  find  out  how  they  are  done. 

3  C  «  neigh- 


378  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xvm. 

*  neighbour  in  his  judgement.     Therefore  the  poet  who  had  formerly 

*  only  to  feduce  the  imagination,  has  now  alfo  to  furprize  the  didtates  of 

*  cool  reflexion.     If  the  clue  that  leads  to  the  folution  efcapes  the  view, 

*  we  cry  it  is  too  weak ;  if  it  appears,  we  fay  it  is  too  grofs.     What  then 

*  is  the  poet  to  do  ?     To  work   on  the  foul,  and  pay  no  regard  to  the 

*  cold  analyfis   of    the   underftanding.'      Encyclopedie,  Article 
Denouement^ 


NOTE     VI. 

IN-  THE  TRAGEDIES  THAT  DEPEND  ON  THE  PERIPETIA  AND 
THOSE  THAT  HAVE  A  SINGLE  ACTION,  SUCH  POETS  OFTEN 
ATTAIN  THEIR  PURPOSE  j  WHICH  IS  TO  PRODUCE  TRAGIC 
EFFECT,  AND  AT  THE  SAME  TIME  GRATIFY  OUR  FEELINGS 
BY    MEANS    WHICH     APPEAR    WONDERFUL. 

I  HAVE  in  this  edition  adopted  the  general  fenfe  given  to  this  paf- 
fage  by  Mr.  Twining,  as  well  as  the  divifion  of  the  whole  paiTage,  which 
I  think  perfedly  jufl  [n].  Ariftotle  has  condemned  Agatho  for  croud- 
ing  too  many  incidents  into  his  drama.  He  now  fpecifies  in  what  he, 
and  writers  of  the  ilime  kind  excel  [o].     As  to  the  expreflion  of  the. 

[n]  See  his  note  155. 

[o]  As  it  does  not  appear  that  this  excellence  has  any  relation  to  the  above-mentioned  de- 
feft,  he  appears  only  to  point  out  this  merit  of  Agatho  as  a  kind  of  fet-ofF  againfl  the  other 
feult.  And  when  he  clafTes  other  poets  with  him,  as  he  does  by  the  ufe  of  the  plural  verb 
J■o;)Ca^o^^al,  he  muft  mean,  I  think,  poets  of  the  fame  clafs  with  hini  in  this  particular 
excellence. 

means 


Note  VI.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  379 

means  being  wonderful,  [p]  I  would  grafp  at  the  flightcft  fliadow  that 
could  juftify  the  meaning  I  have  ventured  to  give  it,  after  Goulftone, 
Riccoboni,  and  Mr.  Winflanley.  Surprize,  wonder,  even  improbability, 
are  clearly  the  attendants  of  the  kind  of  arrangement  Ariftotle  is  fpeaking 
of  J  and  that  they  fo  appeared  to  him  is  equally  clear  from  the  apology 
he  immediately  makes  for  Agatho,  by  a  quotation  from  his  works. 

As  to  his  confining  thefc  kind  of  folutions  to  the  tragedies  depending 
on  peripetia,  and  thofe  of  a  fmgle  conflruftion,  I  do  not  fee  the  leall 
propriety  as  to  the  laft.  ATrAc'of  is  in  Chap.  xiii.  ufed  twice  by 
Ariflotle,  and  each  time  in  a  different  fenfe,  once  as  oppofed  to  compli- 
cated and  once  as  oppofed  to  double.  (See  Notes  [a]  and  [c],  on  the 
tranllation  of  Chap,  xiii.)  If  it  is  taken  in  the  firft  fenfe  as  oppofed  to 
complicated,  the  two  examples  mufl  take  in  every  fpecies  of  tragedy,  for 
in  the  tenth  chapter  he  mentions  the  diftindion  between  the  fimple  and 
complicated  tragedy  to  depend  on  the  one's  having  peripetia  and  difco- 
very,  and  the  other  not  having  them.  But  every  tragedy  muft  either 
have  or  not  have  the  peripetia  and  difcovery.  Neither  does  the  other 
meaning  of  aVxo'oj  (which  of  the  tv/o  evils  I  have  chofen)  agree  much 
better ;  fince  the  overthrow  of  vice,  though  fupported  by  wifdom  and 
(Irength,  manifeftly  muft  produce  a  different  cataftrophe  for  the  good 

[p]  That  fiavjw-afMj  cannot  have  the  fenfe  of  per  admirabile,  is  obvious.  Mr.  Tvifinin^  • 
lays,  '  it  feems  all  the  mss.  give  GaufAarus.'  The  fenfe  of  the  context  appears  to  call  fo  loudly 
for  the  other  meaning,  that  if  all  the  printed  copies  and  tranfiators  agreed,  I  (hould  be  tempted, 
MEO  PERicuLo,  not  to  fuffer  one  figma  to  fland  in  my  vva}',  but  read  9«u,aa;rS.  But  befides 
the  authority  of  the  tranfiators  I  have  quoted,  it  appears  from  the  Spanifti  edition  of  Flores, 
that  9aujwarM  was  the  mofl  popular  reading.  Since,  he  fays,  '  some  editors  (Algunas 
tores,)  read  Oaujujcfwc  inftead  of  SaufAary. 


edi 


3  C  2  and 


380  A  COxMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.xviii. 

and  the  bad,  which  he  makes  in  Chap,  xiii,  the  eflential  diftindlioa 
between  the  double  and  the  fingle  ilory. 

But  here  a  much  more  eflential  difficulty  occurs.  Ariftotle  in  the 
thirteenth  chapter  exprefHy  declares,  that  '  a  very  bad  man  fliould  not 

*  be  reprefented  as  falling  from  happinefs  to  mifery,  for  though  fuch  an 

*  arrangement  might  be  agreeable  to  our  feelings,  it  would  excite  neither 

*  pity  nor  terror  j'  and  confequently,  according  to  Ariflotle's  precife  de- 
finition of  the  word,  would  not  be  tragical.  Yet  here  he  gives  abfo- 
lutely  and  in  unequivocal  terms  to  this  very  arrangement  of  fible,  the 
particular  merit  which  he  has  before  exprefHy  denied  it. 

I  can  folve  this  difficulty  into  no  other  caufe  than  change  of  opinion. 
And  as  I  muft  think  fuch  a  change  of  opinion  juftifies  the  proverb, 

*  Second  thoughts  are  beftj'  I  can  impute  it  only  to  the  triumph  of 
feeling  over  hypothefis  [o^]. 

Of  vicious  wifdom  deceived.  Sir  Giles  Overreach  and  Shylock  are  in- 
ftances,  as  is  the  death  of  Dionyfius  by  Euphrafia,  of  the  uncxpe^^led  over- 
throw of  impious  courage  and  power. 

[q^]  See  Chap.  xirt.  Note  iii  and  vii. 


NOTE 


Note  VII.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  381 

A 
NOTE      VII. 

AGATHO  OBSERVES,    IT    IS    PROBABLE    FOR    MANY    THINGS    TO 
HAPPEN    WHICH    SEEM    IMPROBABLE. 

THIS  paflage  of  Agatho  is  quoted  by  Ariftotle  in  the  fecond  book  of 
his  Rhetoric,  Chapter  xxiv,  where  he  treats  largely  of  general  and 
contingent  probability,  and  the  fallacious  arguments  that  may  be  pro- 
duced by  confounding  one  with  the  other.  The  reafon  why  Ariflotle 
ufes  this  argument  now,  is  to  juftify  his  approbation  of  an  arrangement 
of  fable  which  is  obvioufly  againft  the  general  rules  of  probability.  But 
experience  tells. us,  that  events  happen  every  day  contrary  to  general  ex- 
pedlation,  and  as  we  are  told  by  the  highell;  authority,  *  The  battle  is  not 
*  always  to  the  flrong  nor  the  race  to  the  fwift.'  The  probabilities  as 
oppofed  to  each  other  are  diflinguiflied  into  the  [r]  abfolute  and  the  con- 
tingent. Now  the  contingent  probability  is  certainly  credible ;  and  the 
critic  tells  us  afterwards  that  [s]  impoffibility,  if  the  poet  can  render  it 
even  by  fophiftry  credible,  is  preferable  to  incredible  poflibility. 

By  thefe  means  we  may  reconcile  this  with  the  ftrong  inculcation  of 
probability  both  as  to  incident  and  charadier,  which  we  find  in  Chapters 
IX  and  XV.  This  contingent  probability,  as  indeed  every  interefling  tale 
can  prove  [t],  is  a  proper  foundation  for  a  dramatic  adion  or  character,. 

[r3    AttAwJ    ttKOf,    H9!l   Tt    £1>C5J.         RhET.    L.   II.     C.    XXIV.. 

[3]  See  Note  vii.  Chap.  xxiv. 

[t]  See  Mr.  Twining,  Note  156.. 

But: 


3^2  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap,  xviii. 

But  the  events  of  the  aftfon,  and  the  behaviour  of  the  charadler  as  ex- 
hibited in  the  courfe  of  the  drama,  muft  follow  according  to  the  rules 
of  general  probability.  To  illuflrate  this  by  an  example,  there  is  a  con- 
tingent though  not  a  general  probability,  that  an  armed  leader  attended 
by  foldiers,  may  fall  by  the  hand  of  a  woman ;  therefore  the  cataftrophe 
of  the  Grecian  Daughter  is  no  improper  dramatic  incident.  Such  an 
•event  fuppofed,  the  general  probability  is  that  it  muft  be  performed  on 
a  fudden,  and  unperceived,  yet  there  is  a  contingent  probability  that  a 
woman  may  vanquifti  a  man  in  fair  combat ;  but  fuch  an  event  would 
not  follow  naturally,  either  from  the  incidents  of  the  fable  or  the  cha- 
rafter  of  Euphrafia,  who  is  reprefented  as  a  delicate  woman  and  not  as  an 
Amazon. 

The  tragedy  of  the  Fatal  Marriage  affords  a  ftronger  proof  of  the 
defeft  of  this  contingent  probability.  Nothing  could  be  more  probable 
than  for  fuch  a  villain  as  Carlos  to  feal  his  crimes  by  the  murder  of  his 
brother,  but  that  fuch  an  adl'  fliould  take  effed  exaftly  at  the  time  it 
did  when  the  characters  are  in  the  higheft  poffible  diftrefs,  is  purely  ac- 
cidental, and  is  not  the  probable  or  even  incidental  confequence  of  the 
moft  truly  tragic  fituation  the  charafters  are  in.  The  efcape  of  Iphi- 
genia  from  the  altar  (incidentally  probable  according  to  the  popular  be- 
lief of  Greece)  was  a  very  good  incident  on  which  to  found  a  tragedy, 
but  a  very  inartiiicial  folution  of  plot  [u]. 

[u]  As  in  the  Iphigenia  in  Aulis,  and  the  Iphigenia  in  Tauris. 


NOTE 


Note  viii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  383 


NOTE      VIII. 

THE  CHORUS  OUGHT  TO  BE  CONSIDERED  AS  ONE  OF  THE  CHA- 
RACTERS OF  THE  DRAMA,  AND  BE  DEEMED  A  PART  OF  THE 
WHOLE,    AND    CONTRIBUTE     TO    THE    ACTION. 

IT  appears  from  this,  that  the  dramatic  writers,  fo  early  as  the  time 
of  Arlftotle,  had  found  the  chorus  a  dead  weight,  from  which  they 
willied  to  free  themfelves,  and  to  render  it  a  merely  ornamental  and  ad- 
ventitious part  of  the  theatrical  apparatus,  [x]  However  I  do  not 
wonder  at  this  precept  of  Ariftotle.  As  the  prejudice  of  the  times 
would  not  fuffer  the  total  abolition  of  the  chorus,  or  permit  it  to  be 
entirely  unconnected  with  the  drama,  every  deviation  from  the  cuftom  of 
the  beft  writers  who  made  it  an  effential  though  fubordinate  part  of  it 
had  a  tendency  to  reftore  the  exploded  form  of  tragedy  in  its  original 
ftate,  from  which  it  appears  to  have  been  at  firft  raifed  in  oppofition  [y] . 
to  general  prejudice  and  fuperftition. 

[x]  Mr.  Colman,  in  one  of  his  notes- on  the  Epiftletothe  Pifos,  makes  the  following  judi- 
cious obfervation.     '  Neither  of  thefe  two  critics  (Ariftotle  and  Horace)  have  taken  up  the 
'  queftion  (that  is  as  to  the  intrinfic  merit  of  the  chorus)  each  of  them  giving  direftions  for . 
*  the  proper  condu6l  of  the  chorus,  confidered  as  an  eftablifhed  and  received  part  of  tragedy/. 

[y]  See  Note  11.  Chap,  xii. 


NOTE 


384  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE      Chap,  xviii. 


NOTE     IX. 

INTRODUCING     SONGS    WHICH    HAD    NO    CONNECTION    WITH 

THE    PIECE. 

THESE  extraneous  fongs  which  Ariftotle  calls  Embolima,  by  no 
means  want  their  counter-part  on  the  prefent  theatre.  It  is  not  uncom- 
mon to  fee  it  announced  in  the  play-bills,  that  in  fuch  a  part  fuch  a  fong 
will  be  introduced.  In  the  Italian  opera  (I  mean  as  exhibited  in  this 
country)  fo  little  is  the  drama  regarded  that  two  adls  only  are  often  per- 
formed to  give  more  time  for  the  dances. 

A  moft  ridiculous  inftance  of  thefe  Embolima  occurs  in  the  Englifli 
opera  of  Artaxerxes.  The  author,  or  rather  the  tranflator,  took  the 
opening  chorus  of  Adriano  in  Siria,  which  happens  to  follow  Artafcrfc 
in  the  works  of  Metaftafio,  for  his  finale,  and  confequently  dreffed  a 
Perfian  king  in  all  the  attributes  of  a  Roman  emperor,  [z] 

[z]  Adriano  in  Siria  opens  with  this  chorus,  > 

Vivi  a  noi  vivi  all  impero 
Grande  Augiifto,  e  la  tua  frontc 
Su  rOriente  prigionero 
S'  accollumi  al  facro  allora. 

Of  which,  this  tranflation  is  the  finale  of  Artaxerxes. 

Live  to  us,  to  empire  live 
Great  Auguftus,  long  may'ft  thou 
From  the  fubjeiSt  Eaft  receive 
Laurel  wreaths  to  grace  thy  brow. 

See  Andrews's  Anecotes,  Article  Errors,  page  108. 

CHAP. 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  3S5 


CHAP.      XIX. 

NOTE      I. 
THE    LANGUAGE     AND     THE    SENTIMENTS. 

Jj  Y  the  firft  of  thefe  Ariftotle  means  the  fimple  and  grammatical  con- 
flrudion  of  fpeech,  as  is  manifeft  from  the  fucceeding  chapter,  and  by 
the  fecond  the  fenfe  and  intention  that  is  declared  by  it.  For  in. the 
fixth  chapter  he  declares  the  fentiments,  {itdvotx,)  to  be  *  the  means  by 

*  which  the  intention  or  opinion  of  thofe  who  fpeak  is  difcovered.'  *  In 
'  lliort   (to  ufe  the  words  of  Mr.  Harris)  fentiment  in  this  fenfe  means 

*  little  lefs  than  the  univerfal  fubjeds  of  our  difcourfe.' 

The  modern  drama  coniiders  fentiments  in  a  more  contined  fenfe  ;  and, 
as  now  ufed,  it  is  properly  enough  defined  by  Lord  Kaims,  *  the  expref- 

*  fion  of  a  thought  prompted  by  paflion.' 

Sentiments  of  this  fort  well  applied  fo  as  to  flatter  the  tafl:e,  the  feel- 
ings, or  the  prejudices  of  the  audience,  are  the  fureft  traps  for  applaufe. 
In  one  of  the  critical  papers  either  in  the  Tatler,  Guardian,  or  Spectator, 
the  virtue  of  a  Roman  theatre  is  exalted  above  our  own,  for  the  applaule 
given  to  a  virtuous  fentiment,  in  one  of  [a]  Terence's  comedies.     Since 

[a]  '  Homo  fum,  nihil  humani  a  me  alienum  puto.' 

'  I  am  a  man  myfelf,  and  can  think  nothing  indifferent  to  me  tiiat  concerns  human  kind.' 

3D  I  have 


j86  A  COMxMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.xix. 

I  have  known  the  theatre,  I  can  anfwer  for  a  Britifh.  audience  being  to 
the  full  as  virtuous  as  the  citizens  of  Rome  in  this  refpeft.  This  is  fo 
well  known,  both  by  poets  and  players,  that  our  comedies  abounded 
with  thefe  moral  fentences  to  an  excefs,  which  became  perfedtly  ridicu- 
lous :  a  very  little  exaggeration  of  which,  by  the  mafterly  pen  of  Mr. 
Sheridan,  has  now  in  a  great  meafure  delivered  the  ftage  from  their  re- 
dundancy at  leaft. 

NOTE    ir. 

WHAT     KELATES     TO     THE     SENTIMENTS     INDEED     MAY     RATHER 
BE    REFERRED    TO    THE    PRINCIPLES    OF    RHETORIC. 

M.  BATTEUX  has  given  a  fenfe  to  the  whole  paflage,  of  which  the 
above  quotation  is  a  part,  direcftly  oppofite  to  that  of  the  other  inter- 
preters, all  of  whom  he  accufes  of  having  applied  to  oratory  what 
related  to  tragedy,  and  vice  versa.  I  muffc  confefs  I  fee  no  lliadow  of 
fuch  a  fuppontion  ;  and  think  the  general  meaning  of  the  whole  conveyed 
very  clearly  in  the  exad;  words  of  Ariftotle,  as  given  in  moft  of  the 
printed  editions  j  and  which  feems  perfectly  conformable  with  what  is 
really  the  diftinftion  between  oratory  and  dramatic  poetry.  The  critic 
firft  fays,  that  fentiments  belong  mofl  peculiarly  to  rhetoric  ;  he  then 
defines  the  nature  and  ufe  of  them,  in  raifing  and  diredling  the  feelings. 
Now  he  allows  that  the  poet  to  work  the  fame  effedl  muft  employ  the 
fame  means,  fuch  as  amplification,  extenuation,  &c.  but  with  this  dif- 
ference, that  he  mufl  effedl  that  by  the  incidents  of  the  fable  which  the 
orator  performs  by  the  ufe  of  that  application  of  fpeech  which  he  terms 
fentiment ;  therefore  fentiment  belongs  more  eflentially  to  rhetoric. 

NOTF 


N-oTEiii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  ^^j 


NOTE      III. 

FOR  WHAT  WOULD  BE  THE  MERIT  OF  THE  ORATOR  IF  THEY 
WERE  TO  APPEAR  AFFECTING  WITHOUT  THE  ASSISTANCE  OF 
HIS    ELOQIIENCE? 

THE  word  which  I liavetranflatedaffedling,  (^^£«,  sweet,  hterally,) 
has  difpleafed  moft  of  the  commentators,  and  certainly  not  without  rea- 
fon,  if  it  can  have  no  other  meaning  given  it  than  pleafant  or  agreeable, 
expreffive  of  fenfations  which  it  is  far  from  the  particular  bufinefs  of 
oratory,  and  ftill  farther  from  that  of  tragedy  to  excite.  But  Horace,  in 
a  paflage  of  his  Epiflle  to  the  Pifos,  which  is  plainly  taken  from  this, 
and  where  he  is  fpeaking  of  the  language  of  tragedy  ufes  the  very  word 
of  Ariflotle,  to  fignify  that  which  [b]  influences  the  paflions  llrongly,  a 
fenfe  which  the  context  has  obliged  the  commentators  to  be  unanimous 
in  giving  to  dulcia. 

*  Non  fatis  eft  pulchra  efle  poemata,  dulcia  funto, 

*  Et  quocunque  volunt  animum  auditoris  agunto." 

Which  I  will  venture  thus  to  paraphrafe, 

Tis  not  enough  that  each  faftidious  eye 
The  drama's  faultlefs  ftrufture  can  defy  -, 
The  moving  tale  muft  charm  the  raptured  foul. 
And  as  it  lift  the  yielding  fenfe  controul. 

[b]  ■*"D;i(^«yoy?t.  See  Poetic,  Chap.  vi.  The  only  commentator  who  has  given  this  fenfe 
to  r'tJia:,  is  Segni.  He  tranflates  it  indeed  piacevoli;  but  he  explains  it  in  a  note  by  '  elle 
*  poflino  muovere  gli  aiFetti.'     See  alfo  Dacier's  note  on  the  lines  of  Horace  that  are  quoted. 

3  D  2  Shakefpear 


j88  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xix. 

Shakefpear  apparently  annexes  fome  fuch  idea  to  fweet,  when  he  makes- 
Jeflica  £ay, 

*  I  am  never  merry  when  I  hear  fweet  miific' 
NOTE     IV. 

THERE  IS  ONE  PART  OF  THE  THEORY  OF  ELOCUTION  RELAT- 
ING  TO  THE  MODE  OF  EXPRESSION,  WHICH  PRINCIPALLY  BE- 
LONGS^ TO  THE  PLAYER  AND  THE  PROFESSED  TEACHERS  OF 
THAT  ART;  SUCH  AS  TO  DISTINGUISH  BETWEEN  SUPPLICA- 
TION, COMMAND,  NARRATION,  QUESTION,  ANSWER,  AND  ANY 
OTHER    CIRCUMSTANCE    OF    THE    SAME    KIND.  ,. 

BOTH  this  precept,  and  the  example  by  which  it  is  illuflrated,  ap- 
pear to  me  fufficiently  clear.  That  there  is  no  grammatical  diftindtion 
between  command  and  fupplication,  and  that  the  diftincftion  depends 
entirely  on  the  fpeaker  the  mofl  facred  part  of  our  liturgy  fufficiently 
evinces.  A  mark  of  interrogation  added  or  omitted,  will  often  entirely 
change  the  fenfe  of  a  fentence,  for  an  inftance  of  which  the  reader  is 
referred  to  the  firfl  chapter  of  this  work  [c]. 

As  for  the  author's  inilrudling  the  performers  how  to  recite  their 
works,  it  could  only  happen  in  the  cafe  of  new  pieces.  The  player  of 
the  tragedies  of  the  three  great  tragic  poets  of  Greece  were  as  much 
obliged  to  tradition  or  their  own  ingenuity  forgiving  the  proper  utterance 
to  their  fentiments,  at  the  time  Ariftotle  wrote,  as  the  performers  of  the 

[c]  See  Note  [d].  Chap.  i.  on  the  tranflation.. 

plays 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  3^,9 

plays  of  Shakefpear  are  at  the  prefent  hour.  I  queflion  much  even  if 
the  modern  players  would  be  quite  fa  civil  to  a  living  poet  in  this  refpeft 
as  they  are  to  Bayes  in  the  rehearfal,  or  as  the  French  players  were  to 
Voltaire  [d].  I  was  prefent  at  the  rehearfal  of  the  Jealous  Wife,  and 
every  circumftance  relating  to  the  elocution  and  the  aftion  of  every  cha- 
radler  was  directed  by  Mr.  Garrick  without  one  remonftrance  from  Mr. 
Colman  who  was  prefent;  though  Mrs.  Pritchard  made  feveral,  but 
which  were  all  over-ruled  by  the  manager. 

I  do  not  think  Mr.  Twining  has  treated  this  part  of  the  fubjedl  with 
his  ufual  clearnefs.  That  by  a-xnt^oila.  Xe^su;  Ariflotle  muft  mean  figures 
or  forms  of  fpeech,  I  moft  perfedly  agree  with  him.  But  when  he 
fays  this  belongs  to  the  art  of  the  player,  and  that  no  blame  worthy  of 
notice  can  be  imputed  to  the  poet  on  this  account ;  it  is  clearly  implied, 
that  it  is  not  only  the  duty  of  the  player  to  underftand  how  the  poet  ufes 
thefe  figures  of  fpeech,  but  to  give  them  their  due  efFeft  in  the  per- 
formance, by  employing  the  proper  geftures  and  tones  of  voice. 

Yet  though  Ariflotle  fays  the  blame  incurred  by  the  poet  on  this 
occafion  is  not  of  a  ferious  effential  kind,  that  very  expreflion  implies 
that  fome  blame  is  incurred.  And  this  is  perfectly  juft.  For  certainly 
the  poet  ought  to  take  care  that  thefe  forms  fliould  be  fo  marked  by  the 
fenfe  as  to  leave  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  the  adlor  or  reader. 

Of  this  fault  Shakefpear  has  been  fometimes  guilty.  For  inflance,  in 
the  celebrated  line  of  Othello,  the  proper  delivery  of  which  has  been  fo 
much  controverted. 

[d]  See  Mr.  Twining's  Note  163. 

'  Put 


390  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xix. 

'  Put  out  the  light  and  then  put  out  the  light.' 

"Which  I  believe  has  been  finally  fettled  by  Garrick  to  be  thus  pro- 
nounced, 

*  Put  out  the  light  and  then. — Put  out  the  light  ? 

'  If  I  quench  thee,'  &c. 

There  is  no  doubt  of  this  being  the  beft  mode,  but  much  I  think  of 
its  being  the  mode  intended  by  Shakefpear  [e]. 

The  fubjeft  of  this  note  is  well  illuftrated  by  Leffing.     *  It  is  often,' 
he  fays,   '  very  neceffary  in  order  to  comprehend  the  nice  touches  of 

*  Terence  to  have  the  power  of  figuring  to  ourfelves  the  adtion  of  the 

*  players,  for  the  ancients  never  wrote  [f]  ftage  diredlions.     Recitatioi^ 

*  had  its  peculiar  artifts ;  and  as  to  the  reft,  the  poets  could  depend  on 

*  the  fkili  and  judgement  of  the  aftors  who  ftudied  their  employment 

*  with  the  moft  ferious  attention.     The  poets  themfelves  were  often 

*  among  their  number;  [g]  they  gave  diredions  how  they  would  have 

{e]  Another  paflage  of  Shakefpear  has  been  thus  fpoken, 

'  This  my  hand  will  rather 

*  The  multitudinous  fea  incarnadine, 

♦  Making  the  green, one  red.' 

I  am  furprifed  to  fee  the  compliment  paid  by  Mr.  Stevens  to  fuch  a  fubftitution  of  bombaft, 
for  the  fimple  diftion  of  Shakefpear.  The  late  Mr.  Sheridan  has  pointed  out  many  glaring 
though  almoft  general  errors  in  the  reading  of  the  Liturgy.  For  more  obfervations  on  this 
fubjeft,  the  reader  is  referred  to  Note  v.  Chap.  xxv. 

[f]  See  Note  ii.  Chap.  xii. 

[g]  That  is,  they  explained  their  own  meaning ;  depending  on  the  art  of  the  player  to 
exprefs  that  meaning  to  the  fpeilators. 

the 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  391 

*  the  incidents  performed ;  and  as  their  works  were  not  published  pre- 
'  .vioufly  to  the  reprefentation,  before  the  people  had  an  opportunity  [h] 

*  both  of  feeing  and  hearing  them,  they  had  lefs  occafion  to  interrupt 

*  the  written  dialogue  by  diredlions  in  parenthefis,  through  which  the 

*  author  in  a  manner  makes  himfelf  one  of  the  perfons  of  the  drama.  But 

*  if  we  imagine  that  the  ancient  poets  to  avoid  thefe  parenthefes  marked 

*  in  the  dialogue  itfelf,  every  movement,  every  gefture,  every  look,  every 

*  modulation  of  voice  that  the  adtor  fhould  ufe,  we  are  miftaken. 

*  In  Terence  alone  there  are  many  places  in  which  nothing  of  all  this 

*  Is  marked,  and  where,  neverthelefs,  the  true  fenfe  can  only  be  dif- 

*  covered  by  gueffing  at  the  proper  adtion  which  fliould  accompany 
'  them.     In  many,  even  the  words  may  appear  to  convey  a  meaning 

*  diredlly  contrary  to  what  the  ador  ought  to  exprefs  by  his  geftures.' 
Dramaturgie,  Part  II.  page  97. 

[h]  The  fame  is  the  cafe  now  as  to  the  priority  of  reprefentation ;  but  the  printed  copies 
are  read  by  thoufands  who  could  not  fee  the  drama  performed. 


CHAP. 


392  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xx. 


CHAP.      XX. 

J.  H  O  U  G  H  I  cannot  fee  with  what  propriety  Ariftotle  begins  a  di- 
redlion  for  the  choice  of  the  language  of  tragedy,  by  fending  us  to  the 
fpelHng-book  :  yet  as  I  deemed  it  incumbent  on  me  as  a  tranflator  not  to 
omit  any  thing  that  the  critic  fays,  I  fliall  avail  myfelf  of  the  opportu- 
nity he  has  given  me  to  introduce  fome  general  remarks  on  grammar, 
and  fome  that  relate  more  peculiarly  to  the  grammar  of  our  own  language. 

NOTE    I. 

A    VOWEL. 

IT  feems  very  extraordinary,  that  while  every  art  is  in  a  progreilive 
ftate  of  improvement,  and  that  our  mode  of  exprefling  clearly  the  mean- 
ing of  language  to  the  eye,  both  in  writing  and  printing,  is  fo  much  fupe- 
rior  to  that  of  the  ancients  from  the  ufe  of  flops,  capital-letters,  &c.  that 
the  means  of  painting  found  to  the  eye  fhould  continue  to  be  fo  very  de- 
ficient and  inaccurate.  If  the  fame  chara(fter  always  exprefled  the  fame 
vowel  found,  the  true  pronunciation  of  language  would  be  as  eafily  con- 
veyed by  writing  as  by  fpeaking.  But  this  is  fo  far  from  being  the  cafe, 
that  the  vowel  founds  marked  by  letters,  are  not  only  confounded  with 
each  other,  but  the  fame  vowel  found  when  long  and  fliort,  is  hardly 
ever  exprefled  by  the  fame  letter,  though  we  have  only  five  [a]  charac- 

[a]  I  confider  Y  (when  a  vowel)  and  I  as.the  fame,  fince  they  always  have  the  fame  found  in  the 
fame  fituation  j  their  diftiiift  ufe  relates  folely  to  orthography,  and  has  no  relation  with  orthoep)-. 

ters 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  393 

ters  to  exprefs  all  our  vowel  founds.  For  example,  the  fhort  found  of 
A,  which  when  long  is  pronounced,  as  in  bacon,  major,  is  marked 
by  E  as  in  bend,  men.  The  fliort  a  as  in  man,  has  feldom  I  be- 
lieve [bJ  a  congenial  long  found  in  our  language  but  when  it  is  followed 
by  two  confonants,  as  in  master,  task,  barge.  However  a,  as 
in  the  firfl  inflance,  may  be  confidered  beyond  comparifon  as  the  mofl 
xifual  long  found  of  the  vowel,  either  when  lengthened  by  an  e 
mute,  as  in  bane  and  dare,  or  when  independent  of  a  fucceeding 
confonant,  (which  cafe  always  makes  the  vowel  long  in  Englilh)  as  in 
bason  and  mason.  Our  long  vowel  found  of  1  has  no  correfpondent 
fhort  found  ;  but  we  ufe  i  to  reprefent  the  fhort  found  of  e,  as  dean, 
din.  Even  if  we  fhould  wifh  to  exprefs  the  fhort  colloquial  found  of 
BEEN  to  the  eye,  we  mufl  not  write  ben,  but  bin  [c]. 

That  our  characters  paint  words  and  not  founds  is  obvious  from  the 
directions  for  pronouncing  the  vowels  prefixed  to  the  vocabulary  printed 
at  the  end  of  Cook's  Second  Voyage  to  the  South  Seas.  Or  if  that  is 
not  at  hand,  the  hearing  a  child  taught  to  fpell,  (the  word  divination 
for  inflance,)  will  be  equally  conclufive- 

The  Greek  diflinguifhed  two  of  their  long  and  fhort  vowel  founds  e 
and  o  by  different  charafter?,  while  the  orientals  contented  themfelves 
with  only  three  charaders,  a,  o,  and  i,  to  exprefs  all  their  vowel  founds ; 
the  two  lafl  of  which  were  alfo  ufed  to  exprefs  one  an  afpiration,  and 


[b]  There  are  however  exceptions,  as  father,  where  the  th  can  be  confidered  only  as 
one  confonant. 

[c]  This  fubjed  is  treated  more  at  large  in  Mitford's  Eflay  on  the  Harmony  of  Language, 
Seil.  III.  page  32. 

3  E  .  the 


394  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xx. 

the  other  a  confonant.  The  different  found  of  thefe  vowels,  and  fome- 
times  their  total  omiffion,  when  [d]  very  fliort  are  left  to  be  fup- 
plied  by  the  memory  and  judgment.  When  the  Arabians  under  the 
Caliphs  became  a  polite  and  learned  people,  they  invented  other  marks 
to  fhew  the  nicer  diflinftion  of  the  vowel  founds  where  they  were 
noticed,  and  to  fupply  them  where  they  were  not. 

This  invention,  adopted  by  the  Jews,  and  afterwards  fandlified  by  a 
little  rabbinical  myftery,  and  then  flrengthened  by  monkilTi  fuperflition 
and  papal  authority,  is  the  true  hiftory  of  thofe  wonderful  Hebrew 
vowel  points,  which  have  made  fo  much  noife,  and  created  fo  many 
violent  fchifms  in  the  learned  world. 

Perhaps  fome  contrivance  of  this  fort  would  be  the  befl  mode 
of  giving  our  written  language  the  moft  perfedl  precifion  as  to  its  pro- 
nunciation, without  any  confufion  as  to  the  etymology  of  words,  from 
which  our  irregular  orthography  in  a  great  meafure  arifes,  and  which  is 
©f  the  utmofl  confequence  in  a  language  like  ours,  whofe  words  are 
drawn  from  fo  many  different  fources. 

[d]  We  are  not  \''ery  accurate  in  this  cafe.  I  tliink  there  is  not  a  very  diftinguifhable 
difference  between  the  firft  fyllables  of  myrtle,  hurtle,  certain. 


NOTE 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  395 

NOTE     n. 

BY    ACUTENESS,    GRAVITV,    OR     THE    MEDIUM    BETWEEN    BOTH. 

I  HAVE  no  doubt  of  Mr.  Twining  being  in  the  right  in  fuppofing 
that  Ariftoile,  by  '  the  medium  between  both,'  (r^  [A.E<ru)  did  not 
mean  the  circumflex.  His  reafoning  on  this  is  conducive.  It  is  very 
obvious  that  in  every  word  of  more  than  three  fyllables,  or  even  in 
words  of  three  fyllables,  whofe  firft  or  laft  fyllable  is  acuted,  other 
fyllables  are  diftinguifhed  by  a  ftronger  accent  than  the  contiguous  ones, 
though  in  a  lefs  degree  than  that  which  is  peculiarly  emphatic,  and 
which  regulates  the  accent  of  the  others,  in  our  language  at  leaft,  and 
in  the  pronunciation  which  we  give  to  Greek  and  Latin. 

There  is  no  neceffity  to  feek  an  illuftration  of  this  from  the  ancient 
laneuaees,  our  own  will  afford  fufficient  examples  which  will  have  fo 
much  more  weight,  as  our  profody  is  allowed  to  be  effentially  regulated 
by  accent,  which  is  indeed  the  fole  efficient  caufe  of  our  verfification. 
It  will  appear  from  our  verfe,  that  this  inferior  accent  has  a  force  not  only 
to  diflinguifli  itfelf  in  thofe  fyllables  on  which  it  is  placed,  but  to  anfwer 
the  purpofe  of  the  flrongeft  accent  in  the  word  as  to  the  verfification. 
There  is  no  place  in  our  heroic,  or  dramatic  pentameter,  in  which  *  iin- 
*  dertake'  would  come  in,  that  •  multiply"  would  not  equally  do,  as  to  the 
meafure ;  though  it  is  obvious  that  the  principal  accent  is  on  the  firfl 
fyllable  in  the  one,  and  the  kfl:  in  the  other  [e].     In  the  burlefque 

[e]  For  the  fake  of  perfpicuity  I  have  diftinguiftied  the  ftrongefl  accent  by  the  acute,  and 
the  weaker  by  the  grave  mark. 

3  E   2  -drama 


390  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xx. 

drama  of  Crononhotonthologus,  there  is  a  charafter  of  the  name  of 
Aldiberontephofcophornia,  which  is  a  complete  verfe  in  itfelf,  contain- 
ing one  principal  accent,  to  which  I  have  given  the  acute  mark  ;  one 
inferior  to  this,  but  more  emphatic  than  the  reft,  which  has  the  grave 
mark  J  and  three  others  fufficiently  diftinguiHied  from  the  others. for  the 
purpofes  of  veriification,  which  are  noticed  by  a  double  dot. 

This  fubje<5t  has  led  me  unawares  into  an  inveftigation  in  which  I  am 
much  interefted,  I  mean  the  diftin(flion  between  accent  and  quantity. 
My  Greek  quotations  will  {hew  my  opinion  on  this  matter  to  the  learned 
reader.  To  him  therefore  I  owe  fome  reafon  for  adopting  this  fide  of 
the  queftion,  but  to  the  mere  Englifh  reader  I  am  likewife  bound  not 
to  employ  too  much  of  thefe  notes  on  a  fubjed  which  muft  be  totally 
uninterefting  to  him.  I  fliall  confine  myfelf  therefore  to  two  points 
only,  and  difpatch  them  both  with  as  much  brevity  as  poffible.  The 
arguments  I  ufe  fhall  be  drawn  alfo  from  circumftances  obvious  to  the 
fenfes,  and  appealing  to  them  for  fupport.  The  authority  of  antiquity, 
produced  by  Dr.  Fofter  in  his  Eflay  on  Greek  Accent,  and  enforced  and 
illuftrated  by  Mr.  Mitford  in  his  EiTay  on  the  Harmony  of  Language, 
are  and  always  muft  remain  unanfwered,  becaufe  they  are  unanfwerable. 

Firft  then,  the  authenticity  of  the  Greek  accentual  marks  have  been 
proved  beyond  controverfy  by  the  abovementioned  treatifes  ;  but  the 
pronunciation  of  them,  as  it  is  managed  by  modern  voices,  deftroys  that 
cadence  to  which  modern  ears  are  accuftomed  [f].    In  confequence  of  this 


[f]  Some  perfons  I  know  talk  of  marking  both  accent  and  quantity  in  Greek  verfe.  I 
pretend  to  no  fuch  power,  but  I  am  far  from  faying  fuch  a  power  did  not  cxift  among  the 
Greeks. 

they 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  397 

they  have  been  difufed,  and  few  Greek  fcholars  from  fuch  difufe  being 
able  to  write  them  accurately,  it  became  neceflary  to  get  rid  of  them  at 
any  rate,  and  this  was  done  by  explaining  away  their  utility  when  their 
authority  was  fhewn  to  be  unqueftionable.  They  were  to  fignify  mufical 
notation,  tones  unknown  to  the  irreligious  ears  of  the  moderns ;  in 
fliort  any  thing  but  what  we  call  accent.  But  if  thefe  kind  of  mufical 
notes  accompanied  the  common  pronunciation  of  the  Greek  language ; 
if,  as  is  fuggefted  by  Lord  Monboddo  in  his  letter  on  this  fubjedl  to 
Mr.  Steel,  *  In  Greek  a  man  raifed  his  voice  upon  certain  fyllables  and 

*  no  other,  whether  he  was  fpeaking  witli  paflion  or  without  paffion, 

*  whether  he  was  haranguing  or  in  ordinary  converfation ;'  if  this  were 
the  cafe,  the  moft  perfed:  language  we  know  mufl  have  been  totally 
deprived  of  the  power  on  which  the  force  of  poetry  and  oratory  mofl 
elTentially  depends,  that  of  exciting  of  the  feelings  of  the  hearer  by  con- 
genial modulations  of  the  fpeaker's  voice.  And  if  the  ancients  by 
•srpca-uSix  and  accentus  did  not  mean  what  we  call  accent,  which  is  fo 
general  a  property  of  language,  and  fo  diftindl  from  quantity,  what  word 
had  they  to  exprefs  this  property  ?  for  we  cannot  fuppofe  their  languages 
were  without  iu 

This  difficulty  Dr.  Beattie  and  Mr.  Nares  have  tried  to  obviate  by 
calling  OUR  accent  emphasis.  But  this  is  fubftituting  the  effedl  of  a 
thing  for  the  thing  itfelf.  A  man  in  a  red  coat  is  eminently  confpicuous 
among  others  in  black  or  white,  therefore  one  of  the  qualities  of  red- 
nefs  is  confpicuity,  but  rednefs  is  not  confpicuity  itfelf,  becaufe  there 
are  other  colors  that  are  alfo  comparatively  confpicuous.  So  we  know 
it  is  one  of  the  properties  of  accent  to  make  the  fyllable  on  which  it 
falls  emphatic,  or  confpicuous  ;  but  this  property  is  not  peculiar  to 
accent,  for,  as  will  be  fhewn  prefently,  there  are  cafes  in  which  accent 

cannot 


398  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xx. 

cannot  be  fo  employed,  and  then  quantity  produces  the  {i\me  effedl. 
Among  monofyllables  if  it  be  neceflary  to  make  one  word  emphatic,  or 
confpicuous,  it  is  done  by  accent,  and  fometimes  with  the  addition  of 
quantity,  or  rather  the  emphatic  accent  changes  the  fhort  vowel  found 
to  a  long  one,  when  the  voice  is  not  flopped  by  a  confonant.  As  in 
Milton. 

'  Know  ye  not  m  e  ?  ye  knew  me  once,  no  mate 
•  For  you,  there  fitting  where  ye  durfl  not  foar.' 

Here  in  the  firft  line,  me  in  the  former  part  of  the  verfe  is  emphatical, 
and  fupplies  the  place  of  an  accented  fyllable  where  the  verfe  requires 
one :  the  fecond  me  is  not  emphatical,  and  is  placed  where  the  verfe 
does  not  require  an  accent  [g]  ;  the  vowel  found  of  the  firfl  is  long  alfo 
and  the  fecond  fhort.  In  the  fecond  line  the  pronoun  ye  is  emphatical, 
but  the  natural  vowel  found  of  it  is  fo  fliort  as  not  to  be  capable  of  the 
accent  without  altering  its  quantity,  which  is  accordingly  done,  and  the 
E  lengthened,  but  without  altering  the  accent  as  faf  as  regards  the 
ftru€lure  of  the  verfe.     When  it  is  required  to  make  a  particular  fyllable 

[g]  From  this  circumftance  of  the  duiSlility  of  the  accent,  which  is  the  efTeiice  of  our 
verfification,  our  poets  have  the  power  fometimes  of  regulating  the  proper  expreflion  of  the 
thought  by  the  cadence ;  an  advantage  denied  the  ancients  from  the  inflexibihty  of  quantity 
in  Greek  and  Latin.  Of  this  the  fidl  line  of  the  quotation  from  Milton  is  an  example. 
A  pafTage  in  Thomfon's  Tancred  and  Sigifmunda  will  fliew  this  more  ftrongly  from  oppo- 
fition. 

'  I  will  give 

'  This  fcatter'd  will  in  fragment  to  the  winds, 

'  Crufli  all  who  dare  oppofe  me  to  the  duft, 

'  And  heap  perdition  on  thee.' 

Here  the  reciter  is  under  the  neceflity  of  either  fpoiling  the  fenfe,  or  the  verfe. 

of 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  399 

of  a  word  of  more  fylkbles  than  one  confpicuous,  or  emphatic,  which 
is  not  accented,  it  is  never  allowed  to  alter  the  accent,  therefore  this  is 
a  cafe  when  quantity  muft  be  employed.  This  I  ihall  illuftrate  by  two 
examples  from  Pope. 

*  Curl'd  or  UNCurl'd  fmce  locks  will  turn  to  grey.' 

The  fyllable  un  is  ftill  confidered  as  unaccented  in  the  verfe,  and  is 
only  made  confpicuous  by  the  quantity,  not  by  lengthening  the  vowel 
found  of  u,  for  that  the  connefted  confonant  forbids,  but  by  marking 
more  ftrongly  the  two  following  fabfequent  confonants  by  dividing  them, 
and  fo  rendering  the  length  of  the  fyllable  by  [h]  pofition  more  confpi- 
cuous.    In  this  line  from  Pope's  Iliad  the  length  of  the  vowel  is  altered. 

*  Turns  and  REturns  him  with  a  mother's  care.' 

The  affair  of  the  accentual  marks  however,  after  all  that  has  been 
faid  and  proved  in  their  favour,  has  been  finally  decided  as  things  of 
much  greater  confequence  are  often  decided,  by  the  majority  of  votes  ; 
their  pronunciation  and  even  their  notation,  where  detached  pieces  of 

[h]  In  fcanning  ancient  verfe  it  is  ufual  to  fay  a  vowel  is  long  by  pofition,  but  this  is 
notcorreft,  it  is  the  fyllable  not  the  vowel  that  is  lengthened.  For  as  Mr.  Mitford  juftly  ob- 
ferves,  '  Ten  confonants  would  not  oblige  even  a  Greek  or  Roman  voice  to  give  to  a  pre- 
•  ceding  epfilon  or  omicron  the  found  of  eta  and  omega,  but  two  confonants  diftintSlly  pro- 
'  nounced  will  neceffarily  retard  any  voice  in  pronouncing  the  fyllable.'  Essay  on  the 
Harmony  of  Language,  Seit.  iv.  p.  55.  Double  confonants  we  pronounce  as  fingle, 
and  the  only  effedt  they  have  h  fhortening  die  preceding  vov/el  found,  as  holy  holly 
WRITING  WRITTEN,  and  as  we  carry  the  fame  pronunciation  into  the  learned  language,  as  in 
>ia./.oi  Kix.X?.o;,  FERO  FERRE,  We  always  in  tliis  cafe  make  a  falfe  quantity.  The  ancients 
I  fuppofe  pronounced  thefe  double  confonants  diftin£tly  like  the  modern  Italians,  which 
perhaps  requires  a  greater  delay  of  the  voice  than  to  diftinguifh  between  two  different  con- 
fonants. 

Greek 


400  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xx. 

Greek  are  quoted,  are  entirely  difufed ;  and  this  leads  me  to  the  fecond 
obfervation  I  propofed  to  make,  which  I  flaall  introduce  by  this  queftion. 
What  have  we  fubftituted  in  their  place  ?  How  do  we  now  read  Greek  ? 
I  know  the  anfwer,  and  it  will  not  be  given  without  a  contemptuous  fneer 
at  the  ignorance  of  the  querift  and  the  abfurdity  of  the  query.  According 
to  quantity  to  be  fure  !  the  only  eflential  conftituent  of  the  flrudture  of 
ancient  verfification,  and  on  which  its  cadence  entirely  depends.  But  let  us 
enquire  firfl:  what  reading  by  quantity  is,  and  if  we  really  do  it  either 
in  Greek  or  Latin  verfe.  Do  we  mean  by  quantity  what  it  only  can 
properly  mean,  giving  length  to  the  fyllables  that  are  really  long  ?  (In 
fyllables  long  by  pofition  we  cannot  err  if  we  pronounce  all  the  confo- 
nants  diftindlly,)  or  do  we  mean  giving  the  acute  accent  to  all  long 
fyllables  ?  Now  let  us  try  this  on  the  two  firft  verfes  of  the  Iliad.  Do 
not  we  give  the  found  of  the  eta  to  the  epfilon  in  Qix,  and  do  not  we 
lay  the  accent  alfo  on  the  fame  rtiort  vowel  in  this  word,  and  in  the 
omicron  in  OvXo[/.evi^v  ?  The  fame  in  the  firft  line  of  Virgil's  Eclogues.  Do 
we  not  pronounce  the  firft  fyllable  of  Tityrus  as  ftiortas  it  is  poffible 
for  a  fyllable  to  be  pronounced  ?  and  do  we  not  accent  the  firft  fyllable 
of  PATULiE  ?  Therefore  if  either  of  the  abovementioned  modes  of  read- 
ing be  reading  by  quantity  we  follow  neither  of  them,  and  if  neither  of 
thefe  be  what  we  mean  by  reading  by  quantity,  I  fliould  like  to  know 
what  is. 

But  though  I  do  not  know  what  reading  by  quantity  is  if  it  is  not 
marking  the  true  time  of  every  fyllable  by  the  voice,  I  perfectly  know 
what  we  fubftitute  for  the  pronunciation  of  Greek  according  to  the 
accentual  marks,  and  call  reading  by  quantity.  It  is  in  faft  reading 
Greek  according  to  rules  of  Latin  accentuation,  which  naturally 
produces  the  fame  cadence  that  we  find  in  Latin  verfe,  depending  en- 
tirely 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  401 

tirely  on  accent ;  for  though  our  judgment  revolts  at  a  falfe  quantity 
our  ear  is  much  more  offended  by  a  mifplaced  accent,  and  the  cadence 
of  the  verfe  is  much  more  hurt  by  it  [i]. 

That  the  rules  of  Greek  and  Latin  accentuation  were  different  we- 
know  from  the  authority  of  Quintillian.  One  of  the  canons  of  Latin 
accentuation  is,  that  the  accent  of  the  penult  in  all  polyfyllables  depends 
on  its  quantity ;  and  I  challenge  any,  the  moft  partial  advocate  for  the 
modern  mode  of  reading  Greek,  to  fhew  me  any  other  reafon  for 
laying  the  accent  on  the  omicron  inflead  of  the  epfilon,  as  directed 
by  the  accentual  mark  in  the  firft  word  of  the  fecond  verfe  of  the  Iliad. 
It  does  not  even  mend  the  accentual  cadence  of  the  verfe,  for  in  two 
lines  that  follow  each  other  in  Virgil's  firfl  eclogue,. 


'  Ilius  aram 


*  S5pe  tener  noflris  ab  ovilibus  imbuit  agnum. 

*  Ille  meas  errare  boves  ut  cernis,  &c.' 

The  four  firft  fyllables  are  exadly,  both  in  accent,  quantity,  and  ufual 
pronunciation,  like  OuAojwevijy,  pronounced  according  to  the  Greek  ac- 
centual mark.  Whence  this  mode  of  reading  Greek  has  been  called 
by  way  of  eminence,  and  in  oppofition  to  the  other,  reading  by  quantity, 
it  is  perhaps  not  very  difficult  to  difcover.     The  whole  fyftem  of  Latin 

[i]  To  thofe  critics  who  are  not  fatisfied  of  the  truth  of  the  accentual  cadence  of  Latin 
verfe  being  different  from  the  quantity,  I  would  recommend  it  firft  to  read,  and  then  fcan  any 
line  of  Virgil  they  chufe.  This  muft  convince  their  ear,  but  if  they  chufe  authority  rather 
than  the  teftimony  of  their  fenfes,  I  would  advife  them  to  read  the  conclufion  of  the  eighth 
chapter  of  Dr.Fofter's  Treatife  on  Accent  and  Quantity,  and  efpecially  thepoftfcript  to  it; 
Mr.  Harris's  Philological  Enquiries,  Part  ii.  Chap.  ii.  and  CoU  Mitford's  EfTay,  Se£t.  vi, 
5ee  alfo  Note  iv.  Chap.  xxiv.  of  this  commentary.' 

3  F  accentuation 


4P2  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xx. 

accentuation  in  every  polyfyllable  depends  on  the  quantity  of  the  penult. 
DifTyllables  have  always  the  firft  fyllable  accented,    whether  long  or 
{bon  ;  and  all  the  other  accents  of  polyfyllables,  which  are  always  on 
alternate  fyllables,  depend  on  the  accent,  and  confequently  on  the  quan- 
tity of  the  penult.     Therefore  when  we  hear  an  error  in  the  accent  of 
this  fyllable,  as  it  is  the  [k]  only  place  where  an  erroneous  quantity  is 
marked  in  pronunciation,  we  diredtly  cenfure  the  fpeaker  for  niaking  a 
falfe  quantity,  and  for  this  reafon  when  we  carry  this  mode  of  regulating 
the  accent  into  another  language,  we  ufe  the  fame  expreffion,  and  call 
it  reading  or  pronouncing  according  to  quantity.     We  can  know  nothing 
of  the  genuine  pronunciation  of  ancient  verfe  but  from  conjedure.     I 
Ihould  imagine  quantity  was  more  marked,  and  accent  lefs.  In  Greek  than 
in  Latin  verfe.     How  this  was  done  we  can  no  more  judge  than  an 
Engllfliman  who  had  learned  to  read  and  pronounced  Italian  like  Engllfli 
could  judge  how  it  would  found  from  the  mouth  of  a  Tufcan.     We 
muft  fuppofe  Greek  verfe  to  be  the  natural  poetic  language  of  the 
country,  and  In  this  cafe  quantity,  the  conftltuent  of  it,  muft  have  been 
ftrongly  marked  by  the  voice,  and  that,  as  in  Engllfh  and  Itahan  verfe, 
fcanning  was  only  an  exaggerated  expreffion  of  its  real  cadence.     But 
this  might  not  be  the  cafe  with  the  Romans,  who  borrowed  their  rules 
of  profody  from  the  Greeks.     They  might  like  the  modern  writers  of 
Latin  verfe,  while  they  regulated  the  quantity  by  the  judgment,  produce 
alfo  an  accentual  modulation  by  the  ear.     When  I  fee  fuch  a  poet  as 
Virgil  uniformly  employing  what  I  know  from  claffical  authority  to  be 

,  [k]  Were  I  to  fay  sideris  inftead  of  sideris,  I  fiiould  be  immediately  accufed  of  a  falfe 
quantit)',  but  not  at  all  for  giving  the  firft  fyllable  one  of  the  fliorteft  poffible  founds  and 
no  accent,  inftead  of  the  proper  long  vowel  and  the  ftrong  accent,  by  which  it  is  diftin- 
guifhed  in  the  nominative  cafe  SIDUS. 

the 


NoTETi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  403 

the  genuine  accentuation  of  his  language,  to  produce  a  moH:  delightful 
cadence,  independent  of  the  quantity,  to  which  however  he  rigidly  ad- 
heres, I  cannot  conceive  it  to  be  only  accident,  but  that  fuch  accentual 
cadence  mufl  have  been  even  effential  to  the  beauty  of  the  verfe,  efpecially 
as  we  find  from  the  paffage  in  the  Philological  Enquiries  above  cited 
(Note  k)  that  when  Latin  began  to  be  corrupted  more  attention  was  paid  to 
this  accentual  cadence  than  to  quantity.  And  does  not  this  receive  fome 
fupport  from  the  exprelTion  of  Cicero  quoted  by  Mr.  Twining  (note  5) 
that  the  poet  was  *  rather  more  confined  by  numbers  than  the  oi-a- 
*  tor.'  *  Numeris  adftridtior  paulo.'  I  certainly  do  not  mean  to  in- 
fmuate  that  the  quantity  of  fylkbles  was  not  fufficiently  obvious  to  the 
ears  of  the  Romans;  they  certainly  did  not,  like  us,  pronounce  the  firft 
lyllable  of  velijm  long,  or  of  vellem  fhort,  but  that  the  verfification 
of  Latin  depended  more  on  accentual  cadence  than  that  of  Greek,  may 
I  think  be  traced  in  the  corruption  of  both.  When  quantity  ceafed  to 
regulate  Latin  verfe  it  ilill  retained  the  accentual  modification  as  the 
foundation  of  its  cadence,  as  will  appear  from  the  lines  of  Commo- 
dianus,  quoted  Note  in.  Chap.  xxii.  But  when>the  fame  thing  hap- 
pened to  the  Greek  verfe  it  entirely  changed  its  form  of  verfifica- 
tion, and  adopted  a  new  and  barbarous  cadence,  which  was  regulated  by 
the  accentual  marks,  as  in  the  Chiliad  of  Tzetzes.  See  Philological 
Inquiries,  Part  11.  Chap.  ii.  That  the  cadence  of  Greek  verfe  de- 
pended fo  much,  (not  on  Latin  accentuation  furely)  but  on  the  ftridt 
attention  to  quantity,  as  in  the  recital  almofl  to  fink  the  power  of  the  ac- 
cents which  was  forcibly  marked  in  the  delivery  of  profe,  is  obvious 
from  a  pafi'age  quoted  from  another  work  of  Ariftotle  in  Note  viii.. 
Chap.  XXV. 


J 


F  2  IwiJl 


404  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.xx. 

I  will  now  releafe  my  reader  from  a  fubje<ft  which,  however  intereft- 
.ing  to  myfelf,  may  be  little  fo  to  him.     Thofe  to  whom  it  is  interefting 
.1  congratulate  on  a  profpedt  at  leaft  of  the  fubjedt  being  refumed,  and 
treated  of  more  at  large  than  it  has  been  already,  by  Col.  Mitford. 

NOTE     III. 

AN  ARTICLE  IS  AN  UNMEANING  SOUND  WHICH  MARKS  THE 
BEGINNING,  THE  END,  OR  SOME  PARTICULAR  DISTINCTION 
OF    A    SENTENCE. 

HT)  W  an  article  can  be  faid  to  mark  the  end  of  a  fentenee,  is  I  own 
teyond  my  comprehenfion. 

By  the  diftindion  of  a  fentence  I  imagine  Ariftotle  means  fuch  words 
■or  phrales  as  are  diftinguiflied  by  an  article,  and  by  that  diftindlion 
feparated  from  the  reft  of  the  difcourfe,  and  in  fad  made  fubftantives  j 
as  when  we  fay,  *  the  conjundlion  and,'  *  the  article  the.'  In  this 
power  the  Latin,  for  want  of  an  article,  is  greatly  deficient ;  and  the 
critical  writers  in  that  language  are  fometimes  obhged  to  have  recourfe 
to  the  Greek  article  ;  as  for  inftance  Goulfton,  in  his  paraphrafe  of  a 
fentence  in  this  treatife,  ufes  to  prius,  and  to  pofterius. 

By  means  of  the  article  in  Englifh  a  whole  fentence  is  frequently 
made  a  fubftantive,  as  fometimes  alfo  a  iingle  gerund  is.  I  liiy  fome- 
times;  as  what  Dr.  Lowth  has  obferved  in  his  grammar,  (p.  140)  on 
the  gerund  being  always  a  fubftantive  v^hen  the  article  the  is  pre- 
fixed to  it,  and  requiring  to  be  followed  by  the  genitive  cafe,  I  can  by 
no  means  alfcnt  to.     In  fome  inftances  it  certajily  is  fo,  but  in  nine  out 

of 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  ,405 

of  ten,  when  the  article  is  prefixed,  it  is  becaufe  die  whole  fcntence, 
and  not  the  gerund  only,  is  the  fubftantive.  For  inftance,  in  the  example 
in  Lilly's  Grammar  of  a  fentence  being  the  nominative  cafe  to  a  verb. 

*  Ingenuas  didicifTe  fideliter  artes 

*  Emollit  mores,  nee  finit  effe  feros.* 

If  we  tranflate  as  we  may  [l],  '  The  having  learned  the  liberal  arts,' 
furely  were  we  to  alter  the  tenfe  of  the  infinitive  from  the  preterite  to  the 
prefent,   we  fliould  retain  the  fame  general  fenfe  and  fay,  *  The  learning 

*  the  liberal  arts,'  not  *  The  learning  of  the  liberal  arts.' 

The  gerund  feems  never  to  be  properly  a  fubftantive  but. when  the 
noun  that  it  governs  would  be  its  nominative  cafe  if  it  continued  a  verb. 
To  explain  myfelf  more  clearly,  were  I  to  fay,  fuppofe  fpeakiiig  of  a 
court  of  juftice,  fuch  a  thing  happened  before  the  fwearing  the  evidence, 
meaning  previous  to  the  clerk  of  the  court's  adminiflering  the  oath, 
SWEARING  is  a  gerund  governing  evidence,  and  the  makes  a  fub- 
ftantive of  the  whole  fentence.     But  were  I  to  fay,  *  before  the  fwear- 

*  ing  of  the  evidence,'  I  fhould  conceive  evidence  as  the  governing 
cafe  of  the  verb,  which  would  not  then  be  tranfative  but  neuter,  and 
exprefs  the  ad  of  the  evidence  and  not  of  the  ofiicer  of  the  court,  and 
in  this  cafe  it  would  indeed  be  a  fubftantive. 

In  fuch  expreffions  as  '  the  crowing  of  a  cock,'  '  the  neighing  of  a 

*  horfe,'  the  gerunds  are  compleatly  changed  Into  fubftantives,  and  as 
fuch  will  admit  a  plural. 

[l]  There  is  no  doubt  but  in  this  as  in  feveral  other  of  the  inftances,  the  article  may  be 
more  elegantly  omitted,  but  it  is  equally  clear  that  it  may  alfo  be  prefixed,  and  in  fome  cafes 
muft  be  prefixed,  which  is  quite  fufficient  for  the  purpofe. 

*  Steed 


4o6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xx. 

*  Steed  anfwers  fteed  in  high  and  boaftful  neighings.' 

Or  the  Englifh  genitive,  as  '  a  horfe's  neighing.'     But  whether  I  fay 

*  eating  bread,'  or  *  the  eating  of  bread,'  *  eating'  will  neither  admit 
the  plural,  nor  the  Englifh  genitive. 

The  *  flying  a  kite'  is  the  diverfion  of  a  boy  or  the  experiment  of 
an  eledrician.  •  The  flying  of  a  kite'  is  the  motion  of  the  machine,  or 
the  adion  of  the  bird  from  which  it  is  named.  *  The  carving  a  door' 
is  the  adl  of  the  artift ;  '  the  carving  of  a  door'  the  objedt  of  that  adt 
compleated. 

Another  proof  that  the  word  fl:ill  continues  a  gerund  without  aflumln^ 
any  of  the  characters  of  a  fubftantive  is  the  neceflity  of  its  being  fol- 
lowed by  an  infinitive,  and  its  incapacity  to  govern  another  gerunds 
We  cannot  fay  *  the  defiring  of  feeing'  as  we  might  the  *  defire  of 

*  feeing,'  we  muft  fay  •  the  defiring  to  fee.' 

> 

That  the  fentence  and  not  the  gerund  is  to  be  confidered  as  the  fub- 
ftantive,  will  be  further  proved  from  infl:ances  where  the  gerund  is  pre- 
ceded by  a  noun  in  the  Englifh  genitive  cafe,  or  a  pronoun  pofTeflive, 
which  equally  with  the  article  mark  one  or  other  of  them  to  be  a  fub- 
ftantive.     *  Peter's  denying  Chrifl,'  would  any  corredt  writer  fay  '  of 

*  Chrifl?'  *  My  reading  a  pafTage  of  Ariftotle ;'  Would  you  fay  '  of 
'  a  pafiage  of  Ariflotle  ?'  if  you  do  you  change  the  fenfe.  Reading 
will  indeed  be  a  fubflantive,  but  will  fignify  fome  alteration  affeding  the 
fenfe,  and  not  the  pronunciation  of  the  words. 

Dr.  Lowth  mentions  the  ufe  of  continual  and  continually, 
the  adjedive  and  adverb  as  a  criterion  in  this  cafe.     By  that  criterion  I 

am- 


Note  m.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  407 

am  content  that  my  hypothefis  fhall  be  tried.  If  the  gerund  can  pofllbly 
be  connecfled  with  an  adjedive,  I  give  up  my  caufe.  *  He  is  continu- 
'  ally  teaching  Paul.'  Is  '  the  continually  teaching  Paul  laudable  ?' 
Here  the  article  is  necellarily  prefixed  in  the  laft  member  of  the  fen- 
tencej  but  it  is  faid  if  the  is  prefixed  of  muft  follow.  Then  mufl 
we  fay  '  the  continually  teaching  of  Paul  ?'  If  we  do  the  fenfe  is  en- 
tirely changed  ;  of  ceafes  to  be  a  fign  of  the  genitive  cafe,  and  becomes 
a  prepofition,  and  would  be  rendered  in  Latin  by  '  de  Paulo,'  con- 
cerning, about  Paul.  If  the  adverb  continually  is  made  an  adjec- 
tive, and  we  fay  *  the  continual  teaching  of  Paul,'  teaching  will 
undoubtedly  be  a  fubflantive,  but  Paul  will  be  the  teacher.     Inftead  of 

*  the  foundly  beating  a  man,'  could  we  fay  *  the  found  beating  of  a 
«  man?'  Or  to  take  Dr.  Lowth's  own  example,  inftead  of  *  by  well 
«  obferving  which,'  could  we  fay,  '  by  the  good  obferving  of  which  ?* 
for  '  dire<5lly  gaining  wifdom,'  could  we  fay,  *  the  diredt  gaining  of 
'  wifdom  ?'  for  *  eafily  fupplying  our  wants,'  *  the  eafy  fupplying  of 

*  our  wants  ?'  for  *  quietly  enjoying,'  '  the  quiet  enjoying?'  It  mufl 
be  obferved  this  is  marked  mofl  flrongly  when  well  and  good  are  the 
examples,  as  in  other  cafes  the  adjedlive  and  adverb  are  fometimes  con- 
founded by  incorredl  fpeakers. 

I  muft  however  allow  that  the  gerund,  confidered  merely  as  fuch, 
may  fometimes  be  followed  by  a  genitive  cafe  on  the  authority  of  the 
Latin,  whofe  grammar  in  doubtful  cafes  is  generally  allowed  to  be  deci- 
five  as  to  our  own.     For  example  :  *  Aliquid  fuit  principium  generandi 

*  animalium.'  Varro.     *  Fuit  exemplorumlegendi  pole flas.'  Cicero. 
«  Veftri  adhortdi  caufa.'     Tacitus. 

■  I'  II     *  Generandi  gloria  mellis.*  Virgil, 

NOTE 


4o8  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  C«ap.xx. 


NOTE     IV. 

IN  NAMES  COMPOSED  OF  TWO  WORDS  WE  NEVER  CONCEIVE 
EITHER  OF  THE  PARTS  TAKEN  SEPARATELY  TO  HAVE  ANY 
MEANING. 

THE  fame  obfervation  is  juft  as  to  common  nouns  or  names  of 
things  as  well  as  perfons  if  they  are  either  of  foreign  or  obfolete  deriva- 
tion [m].  And  fometimes  even  if  the  words  are  compounded  of  terms 
in  general  ufe.     This  is  well  illuftrated  in  Mr.  Jackfon's  Letters.     *  Per- 

*  haps,'  (he  fays)  *  it  may  be  imagined  that  thofe  words  which  carry 
«  their  fignification  with  them  fhould  be  moft  expreffive,  whether  long 

*  or  ihort ;  that  is  when  they  are  compounded  of  known  words  which 

*  exprefs  that  fignification.  But  this  is  not  fo;  when  we  iay  "  adieu," 
**  farewell,"  we  mean  no  more  than  a  ceremony  at  parting.     No  one 

*  confiders  "  adieu"  as  a  recommendation  to  God,  or  "  farewell"  as- 
'  a  wifh  for  happinefs.     Frequent  ufe  deftroys  all  idea  of  derivation  ; 

*  but  if  we  fpeak  a  compound  or  felf-fignificant  word  that  is  not  com- 
'  mon,  we  perceive  the  derivation  of  it.  Thus  if  a  Londoner  fays 
**  butter-milk,"  he  has  an  idea  of  fomething  compofed  of  "  butter" 
'  and  "  milk,"  but  to  an  Iriihman  or  Hollander  it  is  as  fimple  an  idea 

*  as  either  of  the  words  taken  feparately  is  to  us.'     Letter  hi. 

[m]  See  for  example  what  is  faid  of  Curfew,  Note  iv.  Cliap.  xiv. 


NOTE 


Note  v.  TOETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  409 

NOTE      V. 
A    CASE    IS    INCIDENT    BOTH    TO    THE    NOUN    AND    THE    VERB. 

A  S  much  of  the  elegance  and  peculiarity  of  fpeech  depends  on  the 
infledion  of  verbs,  and  as  moft  languages  in  this  refpedt  deviate  at  times 
from  what  may  be  called  the  rules  of  univerfal  grammar,  I  fhall  venture 
briefly  to  mention  a  few  curfory  obfervations  that  I  have  made  on  this 
point  in  the  courfe  of  my  reading. 

Dr.  Lowth  has  mentioned  the  confufion  frequently  made  even  by 
good  writers,  of  the  participle  and  preterite  of  fuch  verbs  as  form  the 
participle  in  en,  as  *  wrote,'  *  written,'  *  rode,'  *  ridden ;'  which  has  in- 
deed been  more  carefully  avoided,  even  in  converfation  by  thofe  who  are 
tolerably  accurate,  fince  his  admonition.  But  he  has  either  overlooked, 
or  neglected  to  mention  the  diftindlion  cuftom  has  made  as  to  the  impro- 
priety of  ufing  the  preterite  for  the  participle,  in  the  different  circum- 
flance  of  its  being  conneded  with  the  auxiliary  verb  *  to  have,'  *  to  be,' 
or  being  connedled  with  a  fubftantive  as  a  verbal  adjedlive.  '  It  is  wrote' 
feems  to  convey  a  more  ungrammatical  found  to  the  ear  than  '  I  have 

*  wrote  j'  but  no  perfon   whatever  would  fay,    *  wrote   language'  for 

*  written  language.' 

This  appears  even  in  cafes  where  the  proper  participle,  as  ufed  with 
the  auxiliary  verbs,  is  nearly  obfolete.  It  might  favour  a  Uttle  of  pe- 
dantry to  fay,   in  common  converfation,  *  I  have  beaten  him,'  *  I  have 

*  eaten  it ;'  but  we  always  fay  '  weather-beaten,'  *  moth-eaten.' 

1  G  The 


4IO  A  COMMENTARY  ON  TH^  Chap.  xx. 

The  two  auxiliary  verbs,  '  fhall'  and  *  will,'  which  conftitute  the  future 
tenfe  in  Englifh,  are  perpetually  confounded  not  only  by  foreigners,  but 
by  the  Scotch  and  Irifh.  The  proper  fimple  future  is  this,  '  I  fhall,* 
'  Thou  wilt,'  or  '  You  will,'  '  He  will,'  '  We  fl:iall,'  '  You,  or  Ye 
•  will,'  '  They  will.'  Were  I  to  fay  '  I  will  go,'  or  '  You  fhall  go,' 
it  is  no  longer  the  fimple  future,  but  fpeaks  determination  in  one  in- 
ftance,  and  command  or  compulfion  in  the  other.  What  a  difference 
between  thefe  exprefHons,  *  I  fhall  not  fucceed  in  this  but  you  will,' 
and  '  I  will  not  fucceed  in  this  but  you  fhall.'  The  lafl  part  is  nonfenfe, 
fince  the  verb  '  fucceed'  being  accidental  requires  only  the  fimple  future; 
but  for '  fucceed,'  fubflitute  *  attempt,'  which  is  in  the  power  of  the  agent, 
the  fimple  future  will  be  the  fame ;  but  change  the  figns,  fay  *  I  will  not 
'  attempt  this,  you  fhall ;'  and  determination  on  one  part,  and  command 
on  the  other  are  clearly  expreffed.  On  this  principle  it  is  that  our 
neighbours  often  raife  a  laugh  at  their  own  expence,  by  telling  us  they 
will  break  their  necks,  and  that  their  friends  fliall  win  a  rubber  at 
whifl. 

It  feems  very  wonderful  that  two  languages  fb  very  different,  and  in 
all  apparent  circumftances  fo  entirely  unconnedled  as  the  Englifh  and 
modern  Greek,  fliould  unite  in  the  fingular  circumftance  of  ufing  the 
verb  *  I  wUr  for  a  fign  of  the  future  tenfe,  the  latter  ufing  6s\u  for  this 
purpofe.  A  fanciful  writer  might  perhaps  be  tempted  to  impute  this  cor- 
ruption of  the  Greek  tongue  to  the  converfiition  of  the  Barangi,  a  body 
of  Englifli  guards,  to  whom  the  particular  defence  of  the  Grecian 
Emperor's  perfon  was  entrufled,  and  who  preferved  the  ufe  of  their 
native  language  to  the  laft  age  of  the  empire  [oj. 

[o]   See  a  quotation  from  Codinus  in  Note  48,  on  Chap.  lv.  of  Mr.  Gibbon's  Hiftory. 


The 


re 


Note  V.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  411. 

There  is  a  diftindlion  in  the  pafllve  voice  of  the  ancient  languages  to 
which  all  the  modern  ones  I  have  any  knowledge  of  are  ftrangers,  I 
mean  the  perfedl  and  imperfed  prefent,  amatus  sum  and  amor.  This 
is  obferved  by  the  later  editor  of  Lilly's  grammar;  but  amo  being  the 
example  it  is  not  fo  clear,  it  not  being  very  eafy  in  that  verb  to  mark  the 
diftindtion,  though  by  accurate  invefligation  it  may  be  traced.  Amor 
means  fimply,  that  at  the  prefent  time  I  am  beloved;  amatus  sum 
has  in  this  verb  a  kind  of  retrofpedl:.  It  is  the  word  Prior's  Henry 
would  have  ufed  to  exprefs  his  fituation. 

*  When  induftry  and  time,   (the  mighty  two 

*  That  bring  our  wiflies  nearer  to  our  view,) 

*  Made  him  perceive  that  the  inclining  fair 

*  Received  his  vows  with  no  reludlant  ear.' — 

The  diftinftion  is  more  obvious  in  doceor,  which  means  '  I  am  now 
*  learning,'  or  *  in  the  aft  of  being  taught;'  whereas  doctus  sum  fig- 
nifies  the  completion  of  my  purpofe,  *  I  am  inftrudled.' 

The  fame  advantage  that  the  Latin  has  over  the  Englifli  in  the  paffive, 
the  Englifh  in  its  turn  has  over  the  Latin  in  the  adlive  voice,  from  ufing 
the  auxiliary,  '  lam,'  with  the  participle,  '  I  think,  lam  thinking.'  In 
verbs  deponent  in  Latin,  the  aftive  voice  has  alfo  the  fame  advantage 
and  from  the  fame  caufe. 

There  is  an  anomaly  in  the  Italian  verb  fubftantive  exacflly 
refembling  the  Latin  deponent.  It  is  conjugated  by  itfelf,  affuming,  as 
an  auxiliary,  the  power  of  to  have,  sono  stato,  '  I  have  been.'  The 
caufe  appears  to  be  this.     The  Latin  verb  sum  having  nothing  like  the 

3  G  2  paflive 


412  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xx. 

paffive  participle,  its  derivative  the   Italian  borrowed  one  for  the  verb 
STARE;  and  soNO  sTATo  literally  means  '  I  am  placed.' 

There  is  a  remarkable  nicety  In  Spanifli  between  ser  and  estar,  the 
firft  always  fignifying  only  fimple  effence ;  as  for  inftance,  ser  quatro 
lugares  di  Londra,  would  not  fignify  being  four  leagues  diilant 
from  London  ;  but  being  adlually  the  four  leagues,  the  proper  verb  here 

is  ESTAR. 

In  fome  languages,  the  Hebrew  for  inftance,  the  genders  of  the  per- 
fons  are  fignified  by  the  termination  of  the  verb  itfelf.  At  firft  fight  this 
may  appear  an  advantage,  but  in  fa(S  it  is  a  defedt,  for  it  often  enforces 
difcrimination  where  difcrimination  cannot  be  really  made.  What 
happens  from  this  to  the  Hebrew  in  all  its  perfons,  happens  to  the 
French,  Italian,  and  Spanilh  in  the  third  perfon  of  both  numbers,  from 
tlie  ufe  of  the  pronoun.  Here  Greek  and  Latin  have  manifeilly  the 
advantage,  as  where  difcrimination  is  neceflary  they  can  employ  the 
pronoun  or  nominative  cafe,  or  otherwife,  omit  them.  In  the  Angular 
pronoun  the  Engliih  is  in  the  fame  cafe  with  the  other  modern  lan- 
guages ;  and  we  feel  an  inconvenience  when  we  wifh  to  mention  a  cir-< 
cumftance  relating  to  a  perfon,  whofe  fex  we  either  do  not  know  or  wifl;^ 
to  conceal  j  and  we  muft  either  ufe  a  periphrafis,  or  have  recourfe  to  ths 
colloquial  barbarifm  of  fubftituting  the  third  perfon  plural^  '  They.' 


CHAP. 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  41 


CHAP.      XXL 


NOTE      I. 


DITHYRAMBIC    POETS-. 


^XByaXiujuv.  For  my  reafon  for  rendering  this  inexplicable  word 
as  I  have,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  note  on  the  tranflation.  Another 
conjecftural  emendation  fuggefled  by  a  learned  friend,  is  to  read  MsyccXs- 
criav.  The  Megalefian  Games  at  Rome  were  confecrated  to  Cybele,  and 
firft  introduced  there  during  the  fecond  Punic  war;  they  are  mentioned 
by  Livy,  Tally,  Ovid  and  Juvenal.  None  of  the  Grecian  feftivals  men- 
tioned by  Potter  are  of  this  name,  but  it  is  obvioufly  of  Greek  deriva- 
tion. Livy  derives  it  from  fieycxXvjg  [^vl^og,  '  The  great  mother.'  My 
friend,  with  great  probability,  fuppofes  it  compounded  of  i^eyxXx 
'  great,'  and  a-etu  '  to  {hake,'  an  etymology  perfedlly  confonant  with  the 
noify  rites  by  which  the  mother  of  the  gods  was  celebrated,  and  with 
which  the  works  of  the  Dithyrambic  poets,  and  their  high  founding  ex- 
preffions  would  be  perfedly  congenial  [a]. 

The  word  in  queftion,  Hermocaicoxanthus,  is  evidently  compofed  of 
the  names  of  three  rivers  of  Afia  minor,  the  Hermus,  the  Caicus,  and 
the  Xanthus. 

Lexiphanes.. 
NOTE 


414  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxi. 


NOTE      11. 

NOUNS  ARE  EITHER  PROPER  OR  FOREIGN,  OR  METAPHORICAL, 
OR  ORNAMENTAL,  OR  INVENTED  FOR  THE  PURPOSE,  OR 
LENGTHENED,    OR    SHORTENED,    OR    CHANGED. 

BY  PROPER,  Ariftotle  means  words  ufed  in  their  common  accepta- 
tion, as  in  plain  converfation,  in  contradiftindlion  to  all  the  other  modes 
he  has  mentioned,  and  not  to  the  yXuTToc  or  foreign  word  only ;  though 
in  his  firfl  example  he  oppofes  thefe  to  each  other  for  the  obvious  reafon 
he  gives,  of  the  fame  word  partaking  of  both  qualities,  though  with 
refpeft  to  different  perfons.  This  fort  of  foreign  words  introduced  into 
poetry,  did  not  refemble  the  ridiculous  pradlice  of  thofe  travelled  cox- 
combs who  are  continually  larding  their  converfation  with  French  and 
Italian  phrafes ;  but,  as  is  obferved  in  the  note  on  the  tranfl.tion,  related 
only  to  the  different  dialefts  of  Greece.  We  have  nothing  that  refem- 
bles  this  fo  much  as  the  introdudtion  of  fuch  Scottifli  words  as  bourn, 
EYNE,  &c.  which,  to  an  Englifh  ear,  has  a  very  agreeable  effe(3:,  and 
gives  a  kind  of  Doric  fmiplicity  to  the  lower  kind  of  pafloral  poetry. 
But  this  to  a  Scotchman  has  the  fame  effedt  as  our  own  provincial  lan- 
guage would  have  to  an  Englifliman.  This  however  will  in  no  cafe  fuit 
the  higher  walks  of  the  drama  and  epopee.  Had  Scotland  continued  a 
feparate  kingdom  the  two  dialeds  might  have  been  diftind:  and  of  equal 
dignity,  and  have  given  our  poets  this  fource  of  variety.  See  Be  at  tie 
ON  Ludicrous  Composition,  Chap.  ii.  near  the  end. 


The 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  415 

The  life  of  Metaphors  is  fo  frequent  in  common  converfation  as  hardly 
to  require  explanation ;  fuch  expreflions  as  *  a  cool  reafoner,'  *  a  warm 
*  debater,'  are  examples.  Sometimes  even  a  word  is  more  common  in 
its  metaphorical  than  its  proper  fenfe,  as  for  inftance,  to  ruminate. 
By  a  fmgular  chance  this  word,  though  of  no  dignity  in  its  figurative  fenfe, 
acquires  dignity  in  its  proper  fenfe,  and  is  a  perfect:  inftance  of  the  ufe 
of  foreign  words  in  elevating  the  ftyle  of  poetry  j  as  in  Milton, 

—  *  Others  fiU'd  with  pafture  gazing  fat 
*  Or  bedward  ruminating.' 

The  example  taken  from  Homer,  of  a  fhip  to  illuflrate  the  transfer  of 
a  word  from  genus  to  fpecies  is  fufiiciently  plain.  We  fay  commonly  a 
fliip  lies  at  anchor  from  the  quiet  lituation  fhe  is  in  when  at  anchor, 
which  may  be  termed  a  fpecies  of  lying  ftill  compared  to  the  agitation  of 
a  voyage.  The  example  of  the  change  from  fpecies  to  genus  (fee  the 
tranflation)  is  equally  clear  and  ftill  in  common  ufe,  though  we  ufually 
employ  the  modefter  term  of  a  thoufand ;  the  Romans  ftill  more  mode- 
rate, contented  themfelves  with  fix  hundred.  On  the  fame  principle  the 
abfent  lover  counts  his  hours  by  centuries.. 

As  for  the  transfer  from  fpecies  to  fpecies,  however  comfortably  ob- 
fcure  the  Greek  examples  are,  I  think  the  fenfe  of  the  precept  is 
fufficiently  clear ;  it  means,  I  conceive,  the  transfer  of  a  figurative  ex- 
preflion  ufually  connefted  with  one  word,  to  another  word  to  which  it  is 
not  ufually  applied,  though  the  meaning  of  it  is  the  fame.  I  efteem 
Caftlevetro's  example  perfedlly  juft ;  and  agree  with  Mr.  Twining  in 
thinking  any  man  who  chufes  may  fpeak  fo,  though  I  do  not  think  it 
would  be  often  advifable  for  him  to  avail  himfelf  of  this  liberty.  I  do 
not  quote  the  Italian  critic  as  our  own  learned  countryman  Martinus 

Scriblerius 


4i6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  xxi." 

Scriblerius  has  furniflied  us  with  examples  in  his  account  of  the  figure 
Catachrefis,  a  mafler  of  which  he  tells  us  will  fay. 

Mow  the  beard. 
Shave  the  field. 
Pin  the  plank. 
Nail  my  fleeve. 

In  ludicrous  compofition  this  figure  is  of  great  ufe.  The  humour  of 
low  comedy  and  farce  frequently  depends  on  it.  The  failor  applies  his 
fea-terms  to  all  the  objed;s  of  common  life,  the  gardener  talks  of  the 
firfl  row  of  a  regiment,  and  the  foldier  of  a  front  rank  of  French-beans. 

But  this  figure  Is  not  entirely  banifhed  from  more  ferious  compofi- 
tion.    The  penfive  poet  wanders 

*  O'er  the  dry  fmooth-SHAVEN  green,' 

^nd  the  hero  of  romance  mows  down  fquadrons  with  his  enchanted 
fword.  This  figure  is  fometimes  ufed  in  common  fpeech,  as  when  we 
fay  a  warrior  is  prodigal  of  life,  or  a  fpendthrift  bleeds  freely. 

It  muft  be  allowed  this  mode  of  arranging  figures  comes  fo  near  the 
next,  and  the  examples  feem  fo  applicable  to  both,  that  I  am  not  able 
well  to  diftinguifli  them.  The  particular  instance  given  by  Ariftotle  of 
the  transfer  of  metaphor  by  analogy  is  very  clear.  Calling  Beauty  the 
arms  of  Venus,  and  Arms  the  ornament  of  Mars,  exhibits  a  more  fa- 
miliar example. 

In  regard  to  calling  a  fliicld  the  cup  of  Mars,  I  mufl  differ  toto  coelo 
from  Piccolomini,  who  thinks  the  refemblance  of  the  two  things  as  to 

form. 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  417 

form,  can  have  any  poflible  connedlion  with  the  metaphor,  and  that  it 
would  be  fpoiled  if  lance  were  fubftituted  for  fhield  [b],  becaufe  the 
form  of  the  Greek  (pixXvi,  or  cup,  bore  fome  refemblance  to  a  fliield. 
This  might  have  been  the  cafe  with  a  poet  who  compofed,  as  the 
Laputan  philofopher  propofed  to  converfe,  by  things  inflead  of  words. 
But  furely  to  one  who  ufes  the  arbitrary  fymbols  of  things  to  exprefs 
his  thoughts  inflead  of  things  themfelves,  refemblance  of  eifed:  rather 
than  refemblance  of  fliape  is  the  fource  of  metaphor,  and  on  this  prin- 
ciple I  fhould  think  the  cup  of  Bacchus  bore  more  analogy  to  an  offen- 
five  than  a  defenfive  weapon.  I  never  heard  the  metaphor  in  the  fecond- 
ode  of  Anacreon,  where  he  makes  female  beauty  ferve  both  as  a  fword 
and  a  fhield,  blamed  on  this  principle  ;  but  I  never  could  fancy  any  re- 
femblance, as  to  form,  between  a  handfome  woman  and  either  of  thofe 
inftruments  [c].. 

Calling  a  fliield  *  the  winelefs  cup  of  Mars'  is  termed  by  Harles  [d], 
*  a  moft  daring  metaphor.'  Perhaps  it  will  hardly  feem  fo,  if  Ave  take  a 
more  common  inftance,  and  call  love  *  the  bloodlefs  war  of  Venus.' 

Of  the  ornamented  word  mentioned  by  Ariftotle  he  takes  no  further 
notice.  Metailafio  fuppofes  it  explained  in  that  paragraph  of  the  Epiftle 
to  the  Pifos  which  begins, 

*  Non  ego  inornata  et  dominantia  verba  folum,'  &c. 

[b]  See  Twining,  Note  185. 

[c]  In  fome  cafes  however  too  great  a  natural  diifimilitude  between  the  objeds  has  a  bad 
effedl.     See  Note  vii.  Chap,  xxii.. 

[d]  See  Note  on  the  tranflation. 

3  II  But 


4iS  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap,  xxr. 

But  whoever  reads  that  whole  pafiage  muft  be  convinced,  that  if  inornata 
there  is  oppofed  to  Koa-f^og  here,  Ko(r[/.og  mufl  comprehend  every  other 
ipecies  of  ornament  of  which  language  is  capable  ;  all  of  which  he  has 
here  claffed  with  it,  as  being  different  modifications  of  exception  to  {kvcm), 
words  In  their  proper  and  common  form.  Ariflotle  alfo  at  the  end  of 
the  next  chapter,  again  diflinguiflies  xoVjwof  in  this  manner.  He  fays 
fuch  words  are  moft  calculated  for  Iambic  verfe  as  are  moil  fit  for  com- 
mon difcourfe  of  which  it  is  an  imitation,  viz.  the  proper,  the  meta- 
phorical, and  the  ornamented.  Though  from  this  we  do  not  fee  what 
the  critic  meant  by  xoV/^o?,  we  fee  clearly  that  he  did  not  mean  by  it 
either  an  aflemblage  of  all  the  other  ornaments  of  language,  or  any  ele- 
vation or  change  of  ftyle  much  over-topping  the  modefty  of  common 
difcourfe. 

Invented  words  can  never  be  fuppofed  to  fignify  any  arbitrary  name 
that  the  poet  may  chufe  to  impofe,  but  a  name  whofe  fignification  muft, 
from  derivation  or  fome  other  caufe,  fee  fufiiciently  expreffive  of  the  fenfe 
it  is  intended  to  convey.  Such,  for  inflance,  as  courfer  for  horfe. 
Of  lengthened  names  the  Italian  has  manyj  but  [e]  Metaflafio  obferves 
they  cannot  be  introduced  into  ferious  works :  in  Englifh  poetry  they 
are  not  uncommon;  we  ufe  *  devoid'  for  '  void,'  *  diftain'  for  *  flain ;' 
and  Milton  puts  '  eremite'  for  '  hermit,'  adding  one  fyllable  and  length- 
ening a  vowel.  We  alfo  fhorten  words  in  verfe,  as  *  morn,'  '  eve,' 
*  mead.'    Indeed  all  ellifions  of  vowels  properly  fall  under  this  defcription. 

There  are  other  figures -of  fpeech  not  mentioned  by  the  critic  here, 
but  which  modern  critics  are  full  of,  and  which  feem  indeed,  in  faft,  to 

[e]  Eftrutto  della  Poetica,  page  333. 

"be, 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  419 

be,  what  Mr.  [f]  Spence  calls,  peccadillos  againft  grammar;  but  which 
the  blind  admirers  of  the  ancients  firft:  give  Greek  names  to,  and  then 
call  figures  of  rhetoric.  On  this  principle  all  the  errors  againft  gram- 
matical precifion  [g]  which  are  pointed  out  even  in  our  bcft  writers, 
may  be  converted  into  beauties. 

Quintilian  was  however  of  a  different  opinion,     [h]  *  Every  form  will. 

•  become  a  fault  if  it  is  not  produced  by  choice  but  by  accident,  though . 

*  it  is  often  defended  by  authority,  by  time,  and  by  cuftom.' 

[f]  See  EfTay  on  the  Odyffey,  p.  117. 

[g]  Mafclef  in  his  Hebrew  Grammar,  Chap.  xxii.  points  out  102  inftances  of  words  of 
an  anomalous  form  in  the  Hebrew  Bible.  Of  thefe,  from  Dr.  Kennicott's  collation  of  Mss. 
78  appear  to  be  errors  of  the  tranfcribers  or  printers. 

[h]  Eflet  enim  omne  fchema  vitium  fi  non  peteretur  fed  acciderit;  vcrum  auitoritate,  vc- 
tiiftate,  confuetudine,  plerumque  defenditur. 


3  H  2  CHAP. 


420  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE.        Chap.  xxii. 


CHAP,      XXII. 

NOTE    I. 

LANGUAGE  WILL  HAVE  MORE  DIGNITY  AND  BE  FURTHER  RE- 
MOVED FROM  THE  VULGAR  IDIOM,  BY  THE  USE  OF  UNCOM- 
MON   WORDS. 

X  HE  truth  of  this,  as  applicable  to  the  Italian  language,  is  very  well 
illuftrated  by  M.  MafFei,  in  his  defence  of  his  tragedy  of  Merope  againft 
the  criticifms  of  Voltaire,  in  which  he  fhews  the  poverty  of  the  French 
language  in  this  refpeit.  Voltaire  had  objedled  to  Maffei,  that  in  his  tra- 
gedy, Merope  to  poftpone  the  nuptials  which  were  haflened  by  the  tyrant, 
orders  a  fervant  to  inform  him,  *  that  the  queen  had  had  a  fever  all  night.' 
MafFei  adds,  '  To  fhew  how  fuch  paflages  would  difpleafe  at  Paris,  he 

*  tranflates  this  into  French ;  and  in  truth  fo  tranflated,  they  have  not  a 

*  good  effedl :  but  this  mode  of  confronting  the  tragedies  deferves  to  be 

*  confidered.     The  Italian  fays, 

[a]  "  Tis  ufelefs  to  difguife  the  mournful  truth, 
"  A  fcorching  fever  wars  againft  her  life." 

*  But  the  Frenchman  fays  only,   [b]  "  It  is  impoflible  to  conceal  from 
"  you  that  the  queen  has  a  fever."     We  may  fee  here  the  difference  be- 

*  tween  the  verfe  of  a  nation  which  befides  the  language  of  profe  pof- 

[a]  '  DilTimulato  in  vano  fofFre  di  febro  aflalto.' 

[b]  '  On  nc  pent  vous  cacher  que  la  rcinc  a  la  fievrc."* 

'  fefles 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  42, 

'  fefTes  alfo   a  poetical  language.     In  ours  even  trivial  and   domeflic 

*  circumftances  may  be  mentioned  with  dignity  and  poetic4lly,  but  turn 

*  them  into  profe  and  they  inflantly  become  common.     Your  verfe  has 

*  exaftly  the  fame  force  as  if  I  faid  in  Italian,  "  The  queen  has  a  fever," 

*  and  a  verfe  that  began  fo  would  certainly  occafion  much  laughter  j  but 

*  when  the  fenfe  is  expreffed  as  in  the  Italian,  the  tranfpofition  of  the 

*  words  and  the  metaphor  create  poetry,  and  render  the  language  noble 

*  to  OUR  ears,  becaufe  it  is  very  remote  from  vulgar  fpeech  and  yet  not 

*  extravagant  j  and  by  thefe  means  we  are  able  to  give  ornament  to  every 

*  thing.' 

Our  Shakefpear  has  been  criticized  with  exaftly  the  fame  candour  that 
Maffei  complains  of. 

N  O  T  E     II. 

THE    ELDER    EUCLIDES. 

MOST  likely  called  fo  by  Ariflotle  to  diftinguifh  him  from  a  perfon 
of  the  fame  name,  who  was  a  follower  of  Socrates  and  head  of  a  fedt  of 
philofophers  [c]. 

It  is  furprizing  that  the  English  tranflators  fhould  have  rendered 
EujcXe/Jij?  0  K^-xp^iog,  Euclides  ille  antiquus,  *  Old  Euclid.'  In  the  iirfl 
place  *  old,'  applied  to  a  man,  fignifies  age,  not  antiquity;  and  without  the 
article,  as  indeed  is  the  fadt  with  mofl  adjedlives  except  in  the  vocative 
cafe,  conveys  the  idea  of  jocular  familiarity.    Who  for  the  elder  Brutus 


[c]  See  Fabricius. 

would 


422  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxn. 

would  fay,  '  Old  Brutus  ?'  Were  we  to  exprefs  the  father  of  the 
Horatii  by  the  name  of  Old  Horace,  we  fhould  immediately  think  of  the 
Roman  poet.  We  know  the  French,  from  the  partiality  they  have  for 
their  own  language,  mutilate  all  the  harmonious  names  of  antiquity,  a 
pradlice  which  we  at  firfl  adopted  but  have  now  totally  laid  afide.  In 
confequence  however  of  its  having  been  once  adopted  by  us,  the  moft 
familiar  of  the  Roman  names,  and  fome  few  of  the  Greek  names,  have 
among  us  this  pronunciation.  But  thefe  are  confined  to  the  perfons 
themfelves,  and  not  given  to  others  of  a  fimilar  name.  We  call  none  of 
the  Horatii  Horace  but  the  poet,  and  none  of  the  Tullii  Tully  except  the 
orator.  Arillotle  and  Euclid  are  two  of  the  moft  early  familiar  Greek 
names,  and  in  confequence  of  it  retain  this  difgraceful  diftindlion  ;  and 
when  we  meet  them  thus  mutilated  we  expert  to  find  the  fathers  of 
logic  and  the  mathematics.  As  all  afi^ecftation  is  ridiculous,  I  fhould 
think  it  pedantic  to  call  this  work  a  tranflation  of  the  Poetic  of  Ariflo- 
teles  ;  but  in  a  tranflation  of  Pindar's  fifth  Pythian  Ode,  I  would  not 
tranflate  the  A^t^ojiXrig  mentioned  there,  by  the  Anglo- Greek  name  of 
Ariflotle.  There  is  fomething  fo  completely  merry-andrewifli  in  the 
appellation  we  give  to  the  celebrated  triumvir,  efpecially  when  mixed 
with  Roman  names,  that  were  I  writing  hiftory  I  fliould  be  induced  to 
reftore  him  to  the  name  of  Marcus  Antonius.  In  this  work  I  have  been 
obliged  to  retain  thofe  christian  names  by  which  Sliakefpear  and 
Dryden  have  mentioned  him. 


NOTE 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  AP.ISTOTLE.  423 

NOTE      Hi. 
MAKING    IAMBIC    VERSE    EVEN    IN    COMMON    DISCOURSE. 

I  CANNOT  think  the  word  lot^^oTToiiicrxq  can  by  any  means  be  twifted 
into  the  general  fenfe  of,  ridicuHng,  v^rhlch  many  of  the  tranflators  give 
it.  For  the  reafon  which  induced  me  to  render  it  as  I  have,  I  refer  to 
the  note  on  the  tranflation.  I  however  muft  confefs  the  examples  are, 
by  a  little  vitiation  of  quantity,  much  more  eafily  fufceptible  of  the  ca- 
dence of  hexameters  than  of  iambics.  Indeed  they  very  much  refemble 
the  barbarous  attempts  at  heroic  verfe,  by  Commodianus  at  the  decline 
of  Roman  poetry,  quoted  by  Mr.  Harris  in  his  Philological  Enquiries, 
Part  II.  Chap.  11. 

Tot  reum  crimTnibus  parricTdum  quoqiie  futurum 
Ex  audloritate  veftra  contuliflis  in  Ilium. 

The  profodical  marks  fhew  what  Mr.  Harris  imagined  to  be  the  intended 
quantities.  But  I  rather  think  the  writer's  ear  was  diredled  by  the  [d] 
accentual  cadence  without  any  regard  to  quantity  at  all.  Perhaps 
Ariftotle  had  no  iambic  examples  to  quote,  and  the  others  being  familiar, 
the  "oiov  may  irnply,  *  as  in  thefe  fpurious  hexameters.' 

[d]  See  Note  11.  Chap.  xx. 


NOTE 


424  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxii. 


N  O  T  E      IV. 

AN     ABSURD      AND      RIDICULOUS     USE     OF     METAPHORS,     FOREIGN. 
WORDS,    AND  OTHER   FORMS,    WOULD   HAVE   THE   SAME  EFFECT. 

THE  obfervation  of  Ariftotle  as  to  the  effedl  of  all  thefe  ornamented 
expreffions,  and  how  much  the  propriety  of  the  moft  elevated  ftyle  de- 
pends on  a  temperate  ufe  of  them,  is  obvioufly  juft  and  perfectly  capable 
of  illuftration  from  our  own  writers  of  every  defcription.  There  is  no 
part  of  elocution  which  requires  greater  ikill  in  the  poet  than  the  proper 
management  of  figures,  and  to  fleer  between  too  ornamented  and  too 
fimple  a  ftyle  j  chafing  one  that  fhall  be  perfpicuous  without  meannefs, 
and  elevated  without  being  either  turgid  or  obfcure.  Nor  can  any  cri- 
terion be  found  for  this,  except  the  judgement  and  tafte  of  the  writer, 
fince  what  in  one  fpecies  of  writing  would  be  fimple  might  be  mean  in 
another ;  and  that  dignity  of  expreffion  which  may  be  only  adequate  to 
one  fubjedl  might  be  truly  ridiculous  when  applied  to  a  difitrent  one  [e]. 
It  muft  be  remembered  .that  two  fources  of  the  burlefque  arife  from  this 
impropriety  carried  to  excefs,  either  by  making  heroes  and  demi-gods 
talk  in  the  language  of  common  life,  or  making  mean  perfons  talk  in 
the  language  of  heroes  and  demi-gods. 

[e]  The  modern  writers  of  Latin  run  ftrongly  into  this.  If  a  phrafe  is  claflical  they  are 
apt  to  think,  it  fufficient  without  at  all  regarding  its  application  to  the  fubjeft,  and  will  criticife 
a  grammatical  paflage  in  all  the  flowers  of  eloquence.  A  curious  inftance  of  this  occurs  ia 
Leufden's  Philologus  Hebraeo-Graecus.  Speaking  of  the  fcarcenefs  of  the  copies  of  the  Hebrew 
New  Teftament,  he  fays,  '  Vix  careflimo  prctio  comparari  pofTunt  num  plerumque  ia  nuper 
'  inccndio  Londinienfi  funt  Vulcano  tradita.' 

To 


Note  ir.'  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  425 

To  know  whether  a  word  is  proper  for  an  elevated  ftyle,  I  believe  ver- 
fification  the  beft  criterion,  and  Ariftotle  feems  to  think  fo  from  the  ex- 
periment he  propofes.  The  cxpreffion  quoted  by  [f]  Dr.  Beattie  from 
our  tranflation  of  the  Bible,  *  Sweeping  with  the  befom  of  deflruftion,' 
would  hardly  bear  this  teft. 

It  muft  be  obferved  tliat  In  fome  cafes,  efpecially  in  fcenes  of  horror, 
the  efFed:  is  often  heightened  by  chufing  a  common  infleadof  an  unufual 
word.     In  the  following  lines  from  Macbeth  : 

*  Who  fhould  againft  his  murderer  fliut  the  door, 
'  Not  bear  the  knife  myfelf.' 

The  effe<fl,  contrary  to  the  rule  of  Ariftotle,  would  I  think  be  much 
inferior  if  aflaflin  could  be  fubflituted  for  murderer,  and  dagger  for 
knife  [g], 

NOTE 

[f]  Ifluftratlons  on  Sublimity,  p.  638. 

[g]  Mr.  Stevens,  on  the  occafion  of  Shakefpear's  ufe  of  the  words  bare  bodkin,  is  at 
fome  trouble  to  fhew  us  that  bodkin  was  an  old  word  for  dagger.  It  may  be  fo.  But  I  think 
Shakefpear  did  not  ufe  it  here  in  this  fenfe.  His  context  feems  to  imply,  Why  fhould  a  man 
iuffer  mifery  here,  when  themoft  inconiiderable,  and  generally,  harmlefs  inftrument,  will  fet  him 
bee     What  Shakefpear  obferves  here  of  mifery  he  applies  to  guilt  in  K.  John? 

*  Do  but  defpair, 
'  And  if  thou  want'ft  a  cord  the  fmalleft  thread 
'  That  ever  (plder  twifted  from  her  womb 

*  Will  ferve  to  ftrangle  thee,  a  rufh  will  be 

'  A  beam  to  hang  thee  on ;  or  would'ft  thou  drown  thyfelf, 

*  Put  but  a  little  water  in  a  fpoon 
'  And  it  Ihall  be  as  all  the  ocean 

*  Enough  to  ftifle  fuch  a  villain  upi''««i 

2  I  And 


426  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxii. 

N  O  T  E     V. 
BY    PUTTING    THE    WORDS    INTO    VERSE. 

I  DO  not  fee  any  objedlion  to  the  literal  tranflation  I  have  given  of 
this  paflage,  or  why  to  f/tT^ov  may  not  retain  the  fenfe  it  feems  obvioufly 
to  have  [h].  I  have  obferved  in  the  laft  note,  that  verification  is  no  bad 
touchftone  of  proper  elevation  of  ftyle.  Ariftotle  feems  to  be  aware  that 
it  may  be  objefted  to  him,  that  the  language  of  poetry,  verfe,  is  fuffi- 
ciently  removed  from  common  fpeech,  to  give  it  elevation  without  the 
afliftance  of  figures.  In  confequence  of  this,  anticipating  the  objection, 
he  anfwers.  Even  in  heroic  verfe,  whofe  cadence  is  much  more 
elevated  than  iambic  verfe,  you  will  find  an  eifential  difference  from  the 
change  of  figurative,  for  common  language ;  and  then  referring  the  ob- 
jedlor  to  his  own  experience,  he  defires  him,  to  put  the  words  into  verfe, 
previoufly  to  the  experiment,  that  the  alteiation  may  be  flxewn  to  arife 
from  the  change  of  the  words,  and  not  from  the  ftrudlure  of  the  verfe. 
He  then  naturally  enough  returns  to  that  kind  of  verfe  with  which  he  is 
more  immediately  concerned,  and  fhews  an  inflance  of  the  dignity  of  a 
dramatic  line  depending  entirely  on  the  change  of  a  fingle  word. 

And  Cowley  fays  afterwards  in  his  Ode  on  Anacreon, 

< '  In  death's  hand  a  grape-flone  proves 

'  As  ftrong  as  thunder  does  in  Jove's/ 

ThFs  paflage  in  Shakefpear  may  perhaps  remind  the  learned  reader  of  the  JoftsumentQEdipus 
employed  to  deprive  himfclf  of  fight, 

[h]  See  Mr.  Twining's  note. 

NOTE 


Note  VI.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  427 


NOTE      VI. 

ARIPHRADES  ALSO  RIDICULES  THE  TRAGIC  POETS  FOR  EMPLOY- 
ING FORMS  OF  LANGUAGE  THAT  ARE  NO'I  USED  IN  COMMON 
CONVERSATION,  AND  INVERTING  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  WORDS, 
THOUGH  THEIR  DIFFERING  FROM  COMMON  USE  IS  THE  VERY 
CIRCUMSTANCE    THAT    ELEVATES    THE     STYLE. 

MUCH  depends  on  the  judgement  of  the  poet  in  the  proper  regula- 
tion of  this  inverfion  of  language.  When  judicioufly  managed  it  poffeffes 
in  a  high  degree  the  requifite  mentioned  by  Ariftotle,  of  rendering  the 
ftyle  elevated  and  yet  perfpicuous,  provided  the  perfpicuity  is  not  injured 
by  too  bold  a  deviation  from  the  ufual  forms  of  fpeech,  which  in  the 
[i]  modern  languages,  where  the  connedtion  of  the  words  in  a  fentence 

[i]  For  a  comparlfon  between  the  French  and  Italian  in  this  refpedt,  fee  the  defence  of 
MafFei  quoted  in  Note  i.  of  this  Chapter.  Indeed  the  Italian  is  fuperior  to  all  modern  lan- 
guages in  this.  For  an  inftance  in  the  tranflation  of  a  paffage  in  Horace  by  Metaftafio, 
fee  Note  v.  Chap.  xxvi.  The  arrangement  of  the  words  in  the  following  ftanza  of  TafTo 
cannot  be  imitated  in  any  other  modern  European  language. 

"  Dio  meflagier  mi  manda ;  io  ti  rivelo 

"  La  fua  mente  in  fuo  nome  ;  6  quanta  fpene 

"  Haver  d'alta  vittoria,  6  quanto  zelo 

"  De  I'hofte  a  te  commefla  hor  ti  conviene." 

'  Tacque,  e  fparito  rivolo  del  cielo 

'  A  le  parti  piii  eccelfe,  e  piii  ferene. 

'  Refta  Goffredo  a  i  detti,  a  lo  fplendore 

'  D'occhi  abbagliato,  attonito  di  core.' 

GiERUs.  Delie,    Canto  i.     Stanza  xvii. 


3  I  2  depends 


42^  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxii. 

depends  fo  much  on  juxta-poiition  and  where  there  is  no  diftindion  of 
cafe  except  in  the  pronouns,  will  often  unavoidably  create  obfcurity. 

Mr.  Jackfon  of  Exeter  [k]  objedls  to  fuch  tranfpofitions  as  *  thunders 
*  the  iky,'  '  fhakes  the  ground  3'  for  '  the  fky  thunders,'  *  the  ground 
'  (hakes ;'  in  thefe  cafes  he  fays,  *  we  are  inclined  to  refer  to  fome  ante- 
*■  cedent  nominative.'  I  think  for  this  reafon  the  impropriety  or  pro- 
priety of  fuch  expreflion  is  clearly  marked  by  the  examples  produced.. 
When,  as  in  the  iirft  inftance,  the  verb  is  flridly  neuter  the  deviation  can 
occafion  no  ambiguity  and  is  therefore  allowable ;  but  in  the  fecond  in- 
ftance  where  the  verb  has  alfo  a  tranfitive  fenfe,  the  inconvenience  and 
ambiguity  mentioned  by  Mr.  Jacklbn  will  certainly  arife. 

In  the  ufe  of  this  licenfe,  narrative  poetry  has  a  greater  latitude  than 
dramatic  ;  but  even  there  obfcurity  and  doubt  fliould  be  avoided.  The 
effedl  of  this  arrangement  of  words  in  a  verfe  may  be  feen  in  a  line  of 
Prior's  Henry  and  Emma,  where,  without  altering  the  eflential  cadence, 
the  words  may  be  placed  in  three  diiferent  ways,  two  of  which  will 
have  different  meanings,  and  the  third,  which  Prior  has  chofen,  may 
be  applied  to  either,  and  depends  folely  on  the  context  and  the  flops  [lJ; 
for  precifion.     The  line  in  queftion  is, 

*  For  feldom,  archers  L\y,  thy  arrows  err/ 
remove  the  firft  comma  and  it  may  mean, 

*  For  archers  feldom  fay,  thy  arrows  err ;' 

and  may  be  applied  rather  to  the  partiality  of  his  companions  than  his 
Jkill.     But  the  following  arrangement  puts  the  meaning  of  the  poet  be- 
yond the  reach  of  doubt, 

Fk.!  Letter  in.  [l]  See  Note  ix.  Chap.  xxv. . 

*  For 


Note  VI.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  429 

'  For  archers  fay,  thy  arrows  feldom  err.' 

In  dramatic  poetry,  and  all  other  poetry  that  is  recited,  if  juxta- 
pofition  is  too  much  violated,  though  the  fenfe  will  be  fufficiently  ob- 
vious, it  will  be  impoflible  to  mark  it  well  by  the  voice.  The  following 
paflagc  of  Shakefpear  will  defy  the  powers  of  elocution  to  give  it  proper 
force. 

*  Foul  deeds  will  rife, 

*  Tho'  all  the  earth  o'erwhelm  them,  to  men's  eyes/ 

For  this  reafon  Latin  verfe,  however  clear  the  whole  fentence  may  be 
from  the  place  of  every  word  being  clearly  marked  by  the  conftruftion, 
can  never  be  pronounced,  by  us  at  leaft,  with  energy ;  this  occafions 
that  monotony  which  the  befl  reciters  of  it  always  fall  into.  How  often 
does  the  whole  force  of  a  fentence  depend  on  the  connexion  of  two 
words  that  relate  to  each  other ;  but  how  can  this  be  marked  by  the 
voice  when  they  are  in  different  parts  of  the  fentence?  as  in  this  inf^anceji 

*  Pan  etiam  Arcadia  mecum  fi  judice  certet.' 

*  Pan  etiam  Arcadia  dicat  fe  judice  vidtum.' 

Here  certainly  the  force  of  the  boaft  which  arifes  from  the  poet's 
challenging  the  god  to  a  conteft  before  judges  the  moft  partial  in  his 
favor,  requires  the  connexion  between  Arcadia  and  judice  to  be 
particularly  marked,  which  it  is  impoffible  for  the  voice  to  execute 
clearly,  or  to  hinder  the  hearer  of  the  laft  line  from  connefting  se  and 
JUDICE  in  his  mind,  till  he  has  perfedly  convinced  himfelf  the  fpeaker 
had  been  correcft  in  the  laft  vowel  of  Arcadia. 

Greek  verfe  though  pofleffing  the  fame  powers,  by  no  means  exerts 
them  in  the  fame  arbitrary  manner.     Virgil  alio,   in  the  dramatic  parts 

o£ 


430  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxii. 

of  his  i^neid,  has  avoided  this.     In  the  fpecches  of  Drances  and  Turnus 
all  the  emphatic  epithets  are  clofely  conneded  with  their  fubftantives. 


NOTE     VII. 

BUT  THE  GREATEST  ART  IS  TO  BE  HAPPY  IN  FORMING  META- 
PHORS, FOR  THAT  ALONE  CANNOT  BE  ACQUIRED  FROM 
OTHERS,  BUT  IS  ITSELF  A  PROOF  OF  A  GOOD  NATURAL 
GENIUS. 

THIS  diftindion  of  metaphor  from  the  other  forms  is  perfedly  juft. 
No  particular  praife  will  be  given  to  the  poet  for  the  invention  of  any 
of  the  other  modes  of  ornamenting  language  ;  it  will  be  quite  fufficient 
if  he  makes  a  judicious  ufe  of  thofe  already  invented.  But  in  regard  to 
metaphors  the  fame  condudl  will  fubjedl  him  to  the  imputation  of  pla- 
giarifm.  For  there  is  nothing  that  diftinguifhes  original  genius  fo  much 
as  the  ufe  of  new  and  juft  metaphors,  as  there  is  nothing  that  betrays 
a  want  of  it  more  than  trite  and  common  ones  [l]. 

Many  inftances  have  been  produced  by  the  critics  of  confufed  meta- 
phors where  the  relation  is  not  kept  up  compleatly,  as  in  the  line  of 
Horace,  where  he  talks  of  bringing  ill  turned  verfes  to  the  anvil 
again  [m]. 

[l]  See  Mr.  Twinlng's  note. 

[m]  '  Et  male  tornatos  incudi  reddere  verfus.' 

For  otlier  inftances  of  this  fort,  fee  Elements  of  Criticlfm,  Chap.  xx.  Seft.  vi. 

Befides 


Note  vii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  431 

Befides  this  obvious  fault  there  are  many  other  improprieties  that  may 
follow  from  an  injudicious  ufe  of  this  figure. 


The  image  may  be  ridiculous  by  being  unfit  for  the  fubjeft.  As  in 
Addifon's  EfTay  on  the  Georgics,  where  while  he  is  very  juftly  praifing 
the  art  of  the  poet  in  elevating  his  fubjed;,  he  attempts,  perhaps  in 
imitation  of  Longinus,  to  copy  the  figurative  ftyle  he  is  criticifing,  and 
fays  *  he  breaks  the  clods,  and  toffes  the  dung  about,  with  an  air  of 
'  gracefulnefs.'  Now  one  of  the  mofl  ridiculous  of  all  pofiible  objeds 
would  be  a  man's  really  doing  this. 

A  metaphor  purfued  too  far  has  alfo  a  very  ridiculous  effedt ;  indeed 
this  almoft  falls  under  the  article  of  allegory,  a  fpecies  of  writing  which 
fome  people  are  very  fond  of,  but  which  appears  to  me  only  a  more  laborious 
kind  of  riddle.  Such  is  the  allegorical  defcription  of  the  human  body 
in  the  Timasus  of  Plato,  drawn  out  to  a  length  that  is  both  tedious  and 
difgufling :  the  hyperbolical  praife  of  which  by  Longinus,  and  the  imi- 
tation of  it  by  Spenfer,  does  no  honor  to  the  tafte  either  of  the  [n]  critic 
or  the  poet. 

Sometimes  a  metaphor  is  perfedlly  incongruous  and  abfui'd,  as  in 
Cowley's  Davideis,  L.  iii.  Goliah  is  defcribed  as  large  as  the  hill  he  is 
coming  down. 

*  Vaft  as  the  hill  down  which  he  m.arch'd  he  appear'd.' 

This  reminds  one  of  the  ftory  in  the  Connoiffeur,  of  the  citizen,  who 
fliewing  a  map  of  London  to  a  ftranger,  to  enhance  the  grandeur  of  the, 

[n]  See  Longinus,  Sedt.  xxxii.     Fairy  Queen,  Book  xi.  Canto  ix., 

metropolis. 


432  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap,  xxii, 

metropolis,   exclaims,   *  Don't  you  fee  it  is  bigger  than  the  map  of 

*  England  ?' 

A  metaphor  alfo  may  be  too  near  the  truth,  as  in  the  line  of  Dryden. 

*  Men  are  but  children  of  a  larger  growth.' 

This  falls  under  that  figure  which  is  now  diftinguiflied  by  the  appel- 
lation of  TRUEISM. 

A  metaphor  alfo  may  poffefs  properties  that  tend  to  make  It  diredlly  con- 
trary to  the  fenfe  in  which  it  is  meant  to  be  taken,  as  when  King  James  I. 
advifing  the  country  gentlemen  to  live  on  their  eftates  faid,  *  that  in  the 
country  they  were  like  fliips  in  a  river,  and  feemed  large  things,  but  in. 
town  they  were  like  fliips  at  fea,  and  made  no  figure  at  all  [o].'  Nov/ 
though  in  this  one  point  the  refemblance  holds,  in  every  other  cir- 
cumftance    it  is  exadtly  the  reverfe.     Mr.  Locke  obferves,    *  that  as 

*  [p]  wit  is  chiefly  converfant  in  tracing  refemblances,  judgment  is  ra- 

*  ther  employed  in  finding  differences.'  I  cannot  fay  the  truth  of  this 
ftrikes  me.  It  feems  equally  the  province  of  genius  to  find  diflferences 
in  things  generally  alike,  and  likenefs  in  things  generally  different,  and 
that  it  is  the  office  of  judgment  to  corre(5l  the  errors  or  mifreprefenta- 
tions  of  fancy  in  both  cafes. 

[o]  This  is  rather  a  fimile  than  a  metaphor,  but  the  propriety  of  each  is  derived  from  the 
fame  principles. 

[p]  Locke  ufes  wit  for  genius  here ;  in  the  fubfequent  quotation  from  Dr.  Beattie  it  is 
.-taken  in  the  more  confined  fenfe,  which  is  now  given  it. 

If, 


Note  viir.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  435 

If,  as  Dr.  Beattle  fays,  *  Wit  arifes  from  the  difcovery  of  minute 

*  relations  and  likeriefl.es  that  had  efcaped  the  notice  of  others,  and  there- 

*  fore  a  talent  for  it  implies  a  habit  of  minute  attention  to  circumflances 

*  and  words,  whereas  a  fublime  genius  diredts  his  view  chiefly  to  the 

*  great  and  more  important  phenomena  of  art  and  nature.'  According 
to  the  definition  of  Ariftotle  we  may  call  a  metaphor  a  fublime  piece 
of  wit. 

NOTE     VIII. 

COMPOUNDED    WORDS    SUIT    BEST    WITH   DITHYRAMBIC,    FOREIGN 
WORDS  WITH   HEROIC,  AND   METAPHORS  WITH   IAMBIC   VERSE. 

OF  the  almofi:  exclufive  claim  that  the  lyric  poet  lays  to  compounded 
epithets,  every  Englifli  reader  muft  be  fufficiently  apprized.  The  dithy- 
rambic  poets  of  Greece  feem  to  have  made  an  ample  ufe  of  this  privi- 
lege, which  it  appears  they  carried  fometimes  to  a  ridiculous  excefs  [o^]. 
Of  the  peculiar  language  of  the  epopee  more  will  be  faid  in  the  two 
next  chapters.  As  for  the  language  of  the  drama,  the  empaflioned  parts 
of  it  will  hardly  admit  of  any  other  ornament  but  the  metaphor.  This, 
figure  is  almoft  infeparable  from  expreflion  of  violent  feeling.  So  Lear, 
in  the  frenzy  of  his  rage  cries  out, 

*  Tremble  thou  wretch 
'  That  haft  within  thee  undivulged  crimes 

*  Unwhipp'd  of  juftice  ;  hide  thee  thou  bloody  hand, 

*  Clofe  pent  up  guilt, 

'  Rive  your  concealing  continents,  and  cry 
'  Thefe  dreadful  fummoners  grace.' 


t>' 


[qj  See  Note  i.  Chap.  xxi. 

3  K  It 


434  A  COMM'ENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxir. 

It  would  be  endlefs  to  cite  examples  which  every  page  of  any  good 
dramatic  writer  will  afford  us,  as  well  as  the  natural  language  either  of 
forrow  or  rage,  efpecially  among  the  common  people,  who  are  mofl 
likely  to  fpeak  the  genuine  language  of  nature.  What  are  fuch  words 
as  '  my  little  jewel,'  *  you  beaft,'  &c.  but  metaphors  ? 

Ariftotle,  in  Chap.  xxiv.  objedls  to  an  ornamented  flyle  as  injuring 
the  eifeft  of  the  empaflioned  parts  even  of  the  epopee  [r]  j  but  in  the 
lefs  interefting  parts  he  recommends  a  fplendid  language.  In  this  the 
dramatic  poet  is  more  confined.  In  the  uninterefting  parts  he  may  in- 
deed polifh  his  verfification,  but  he  muft  not  give  his  diftion  too  much 
ornament,  for  fuch  parts  are  only  the  common  difcourfe  of  the  charac- 
ters, but  in  the  epopee  they  are  confidered  as  the  language  of  the  poet, 
or  if  you  will,  of  the  mufe. 

But  though  fimplicity  of  ftyle,  and  precifion  of  meaning,  are  peculi- 
arly requifite  to  the  dramatic  mufe,  they  are  by  no  means  to  be  negle6led 
by  her  fifters.  It  is  impoflible  that  there  can  be  any  merit  in 
writing  or  fpeaking  fo  as  not  to  be  underftood  [s],  I  do  not  make  an 
exception  even  in  favor  of  the  lyric  poet.     The  words  of  Pindar  [t], 

[r]  See  Note  vni.  Chap.  xxiv. 

[s]  '  To  write  obfcurely  requires  no  other  talent  or  fkill  than  to  exprefs  one's  meaning^ 
*  imperfe£lly ;  or  if  that  is  not  enough  to  write  without  any  meaning  at  all.'    Armstrong^ 

FTJ    ^UVaHTO,   (7„V£T0r(r»V,    £f 

At  TO  sraii  ipfAYiviuv 

'  Whofe  meaning  to  the  wife  alone  reveal'd 

'  Lie  from  the  vulgar  herd  in  myftic  words  conceai'd/ 

adopted 


Note  viii.  POETIC  OF  ARIS'TOTLE.,  435 

ddbptfed  as  a  motto  to  one  of  his  odes  by  Gray,  though  I  believe  per- 
fectly underftood  by  him,  have  been  in  generil  miftaken  by  his 
readers ;  and  the  fenfe  they  have  been  fuppofed  to  convey  has  milled 
many  a  modern  Icarus  who  has  tried  to  emulate  the  flight  of  the  Theban 
fwan.  But  they  cannot  certainly  allude  to  defcdtive  conflruftion,  or 
ambiguous  phrafe,  for  ^vho  in  that  cafe  would  be  the  (tvvstoi,  the  *  ih- 

*  telligent ;'  to  whom  fuch  a  compofition  would  be  particularly  clear  ? 
Not  the  elegant  and  corredl  reader  furely.  Who  is  proverbially  fo 
good  an  interpreter  of  an  ungrammatical  or  an  ill  fpelt  letter  as  the 
perfon  who  writes  in  the  fame  way  himfelf  ?  By  thofe  parts  which 
fpeaking  only  to  the  intelligent  efcape  the  grofler  fenfe  of  the  ignorant 
and  are  not  to  be  comprehended  by  the  common  herd  of  readers  with- 
out explanation,  the  poet  muft  mean  the  nice  touches,  fudden  tranfi- 
tions,  and  frequent  allufions  to  the  various  fables  contained  in  the  my- 
thology and  early  hiftory  of  Greece,  that  fo  frequently  occur  in  the 
odes  of  Pindar,  which  however  ftriking  to  the  informed  reader,  muft 
be  totally  incomprehenfible  to  the  ignorant  and  uninformed,  and  the 
difficulty  that  may  at  firft  attend  the  developement  of  thefe  pafTages 
will  excite  that  fort  of  pleafure  arifing  from  a  confcioufnefs  of  acquiring 
a  fort  of  knowledge,  which  Ariftotle  mentions  in  his  fourth  chapter. 

Mr.  Gray's  incomparable  Ode  on  the  Deftrudion  of  the  Welfli  Bards 
will  compleatly  illuftrate  this  to  the  Englifli  reader,  and  leave  him  neithei 
in  this  or  any  other  cafe  to  regret  his  inability  to  confult  his  Grecian  arche- 
type. This  compofition,  though  fall  of  allufions  that  relate  to  the  annals 
of  England  only,  Mr.  Gray  found  fo  unintelligible  to  the  many,  fo  *  much 

*  caviare  to  the  million,'  that  he  was  obliged  to  ftep  forth  as  his  own 
interpreter,  and  print  it  with  explanatory  notes  i  and  yet  as  Dr.  Beattie 

3  K  2  obferves 


436  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.xxii. 

obferves  [u],  *  It  is  in  the  allufions  only,  and  not  in  the  words  or 

*  images,  (for  thefe  are  moft  emphatical  and  pi(fturefque)  that  the  poem 
'  partakes  of  obfcurity,  and  even  its  allufions  will  hardly  feem  obfcure 

*  to  thofe  who  are  acquainted  with  the  hiftory  of  England.'  To  mark 
more  ftrongly  what  I  mean  by  obfcurity  of  conftrudtion  I  will  cite  a 
paflage  from  another,  the  moft  popular  of  Gray's  works,  his  Elegy. 

*  Far  from  the  madding  crouds  ignoble  ftrife 

*  Their  fober  wiflies  never  learn'd  to  flray.' 

The  obvious  conftruftion  of  the  words  conveys  a  fenfe  diametrically 
oppofite  to  that  which,  from  the  general  tenor  of  the  poem,  and  from 
that  only,  we  difcover  to  be  intended  by  the  poet. 

The  odes  of  Pindar  muft  lofe  more  than  half  their  beauty  even  to 
the  moft  accurate  Greek  fcholar,  for  no  modern  can  be  fo  converfant 
with  the  numerous  fables  of  Greece  as  not  in  many  cafes  to  be  one  of 
the  u(rvv£Tci. 

[u]  Effay  on  Poetry  and  Mufic,  Part  II.  Chap.  I.  Seft.  ui.  See  alfo  his  Effay  on  Imar 
gination,  page  167. 


C  H  A  P. 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  437 


CHAP.      XXIII. 

NOTE      I. 

EVEN  IN  THE  EPOPEE  THE  FABLES  SHOULD  HAVE  A  DRAMATIC 
FORM,  AND  RELATE  TO  ONE  ENTIRE  AND  COMPLEAT  ACTION, 
WHICH    HAS    A    BEGINNING,    A    MIDDLE,    AND    AN    END. 

It  has  been  already  obferved  that  ia  every  fiditious  tale,  independently 
of  technical  rules,  it  is  impoflible  to  keep  up  the  attention  and  intereil 
of  the  piece  without  confining  the  time  of  the  fible  within  a  certain 
boundaiy.  This  rule  of  nature  is  confirmed  by  the  pradlice  of  all  our 
good  novel  writers .  I  will  not  only  inflance  the  novels  of  Fielding, 
who  as  being  a  fcholar,  and  rather  fond  of  lliewing  he  was,  may  be 
fuppofed  to  difplay  his  acquaintance  with  the  precepts  of  the  Stagirite, 
or  rather  the  models  from  whence  they  are  drawn  :  but  thofe  of 
Richardfon,  of  Mrs.  Smith,  and  of  Mifs  Burney,  who  cannot  be  fup- 
pofed to  be  influenced  by  any  pedantry  of  this  kind.  Even  in  thofe 
novels  which  are  written  on  what  Dr.  Beattie  calls  the  hiftorical  plan, 
fuch  as  Peregrine  Pickle  and  Roderick  Random,  though  they  begin 
with  the  infancy  of  the  hero,  they  by  no  means  compleat  his  life.  The 
firfl;  events  are  rather  preparatory  to,  than  part  of  the  main  objedl  of  the 
ftory,  the  body  of  which,  or  to  fpeak  dramatically,  the  plot,  is  the 
love  of  the  principal  charaders,   as  the  folution  of  it,  or  catafl:rophe, 

is  their  marriage  [a]. 

The 

[a]  This  is  exaaiy  true  with  regard  to  Tom  Jones.     The  aaion  properly  begins  v/ith  ■ 
the  banifhment  of  Jones  froni  AUworthy's  houfe ;  and  from  that  time  to  the  conclufion, 

according 


433  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap,  xxiii. 

The  mode  ufed  by  the  orientals  to  give  a  fpecies  of  unity  to  their 
complicated  fables  is  very  Angular.  Of  this  the  Arabian  Nights  exhibit 
a  curious  fpecimen.  A  general  ftory,  or  ground- work  for  the  whole,  is 
firft  formed.  This  is  the  bloody  vow  of  the  fultan  in  confequence  of 
the  fultana's  infidelity,  the  generous  refolution  of  the  vizir's  daughter, 
and  her  final  triumph.  Into  this  the  other  ftories  are  woven,  but  the 
introdudlory  tale  is  continually  brought  to  our  I'ecolledlion  by  the  con- 
verfation  that  precedes  the  narrative  of  every  night.  Every  ftory  is  be- 
fides  branched  out  into  a  number  of  others,  to  each  of  which  it  ferves 
as  a  common  bond  of  union,  as  the  original  one  is  to  the  whole. 

By  this  ftrange  contrivance  an  appearance  of  general  unity  is  kept  up 
though  without  the  leaft  of  that  efFedl  which  is  propofed  as  the  confe- 
quence of  unity  ;  as  the  mind  is  difagreeably  perplexed  by  the  broken 
chain  of  the  narrative,  expedtation  is  fufpended  till  all  interell:  in  the 
fable  is  loft,  and  inftead  of  perfpicuity  confufion  is  produced.  This 
arrangement  is  preferved  in  the  firfl  half  of  Mr.  Galland's  tranllation. 
In  the  latter  part  he  has  given  fuch  feparate  ftories  as  ftruck  him,  with- 
out dividing  the  nights,  or  preferving  any  connexion  between  them, 
except  the  cataftrophe  of  the  leading  fable.  Mr.  xAndrews  in  his  Anec- 
dotes [b],  gives  a  humorous  reafon  for  M.  Galland's  change  of  condu(5t. 
But  I  believe  the  principal  caufe  of  it  was  the  length  of  the  original 
work,  which  he  has  greatly  abridged,  as  will  be  apparent  on  comparing 
the  number  of  nights  in  that  part  of  his  tranflation  where  they  are 

according  to  the  author's  own  calculation,  jufl:  forty- two  days  intervene,  and  yet  this  is  five 
days  more  than  the  compleat  adion  of  the  Iliad  occupies. 

[e]  Appendix,    Article  Author. 

noticed. 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE. 


439 


noticed  [c],  which  is  a  full  half  of  the  work,  with  the  compleat  number 
of  a  thoufand  and  one. 

Dr.  Beattie  [n]  feems  to  queftion  the  authenticity  of  this  work.  I 
think  the  reafon  he  urges ;  (the  French  features  given  it  by  M.  Gal- 
land,)  can  have  no  weight  with  a  perfon  who  has  ever  read  a  French 
tranflation  from  any  language.  Whoever  will  compare  this  work  even 
through  the  medium  of  a  French  tranflation  with  the  many  western 
oriental  tales,  to  which  it  has  given  birth,  will  fee  ftrong  marks  of  original 
and  real  chara6ber.  But  I  believe  theauthenticity  of  this  work  is  capable 
of  ftronger  proof.  I  have  been  informed  that  ProfefTor  White  has  a 
compleat  copy  in  Arabic.  Mr.  Richardfon  alfo,  in  his  Arabic  Grammar, 
has  printed  one  of  the  fables  at  length  in  the  original  language,  and 
quoted  verfes  from  another  [e]  which  are  not  tranflated  by  M.  Galland, 
though  the  tale  from  which  they  are  taken  is. 

This  mode  of  narration  was  adopted  by  Arioilo,  and  was  copied  from 
him  by  our  countryman  Spenfer. 

As  for  Ariofto,  his  imagination  is  fo  brilliant,  his  fubje(3:  fo  wonder- 
fully varied 

*  From  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  fevere  :* 
there  is  fuch  a  mingled  vein  of  fublimity,  pathos,  and  humour,  running 

[c]  The  laft  night  noticed  is  the  two  hundred  and  thirty-fecond.     Therefore  half  the 
tranflation  is  not  a  quarter  of  the  original  work. 

[d]  Eflay  on  Fable  and  Romance,  page  509. 

[eJ  Page  181. 

through 


440  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap,  xxiii. 

through  the  whole  work,  thac  notwithftanding  the  many  abfurdities  it 
contains,  and  fuch  a  total  want  of  connexion  in  the  incidents,  that  to 
enable  the  reader  at  all  to  follow  the  thread  of  the  fcattered  tales,  the 
commentators  have  been  obliged  to  have  recourfe  to  inartificial  affiflance 
of  marginal  references  ;  yet  we  can  hardly  wifh  it  to  have  been  in  any 
refped:  different  from  what  it  is.  But  as  the  work  of  Spenfer  is  en- 
tirely of  a  ferious  caft,  our  tafte  is  more  faflidious,  and  indeed  the  at- 
tempt at  uniformity,  which  is  avowed  by  the  author  [f],  caufes  us  to 
be  more  difgufted  both  with  the  want  of  it  in  the  Cantos  that  are  pre- 
ferved,  and  the  apparent  inadequacy  of  the  whole  plan  propofed,  had  it 
been  compleatly  carried  into  execution.  The  unity  produced  by  the 
introdu(flion  of  a  general  kind  of  fecondary  hero  pervading  the  whole, 
muil  have  been  very  awkward  and  very  uninterefling.  Prince  Arthur 
engaged  as  an  afliftant  to  the  feveral  allegorical  heroes  in  their  refped:ive 
adventures,  would  have  exadlly  refembled  the  pentathlete,  as  dcfcribed  by 
[o]  Plato,  who,  however  fkilful  he  might  be  in  the  conteft  with  thofe 
who  like  himfelf  were  trained  to  the  pradice  of  various  exercifes,  was 
always  inferior  to  thofe  athletes  who  applied  themfelves  to  one  only,  in 
that  peculiar  exercife. 

[f]  Letter  from  the  author  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  [c]  In  his  Ep«f*«. 


NOTE 


Note  ir.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  441 


N  O  T  E     II. 

AND  NOT  FOLLOW  THE  CUSTOM  OF  HISTORY,  WHERE  IT  IS  NOT 
NECESSARY  TO  CONFINE  THE  SUBJECT  TO  ONE  ACTION,  BUT 
TO  ONE  PERIOD  OF  TIME,  AND  WHERE  EVERY  THING  MAY 
BE    INTRODUCED    THAT    HAPPENED    IN    THAT    TIME. 

THIS  condudl  of  hiftory  is  exadlly  exemplified  in  the  work  of  that 
mofl;  entertaining  of  all  writers  Herodotus.  Like  Arioflo  he  hurries  his 
reader  from  event  to  event,  and  from  fcene  to  fcene,  as  his  own  lively 
fancy  fuggefls,  without  giving  him  time  to  recoiled  himfelf,  and  fafci- 
nates  him  at  the  fame  time  fo  agreeably  with  beauty  of  ftyle,  and  variety 
of  matter,  that  he  has  no  wifli  to  awaken  from  his  delirium,  [h]  Later 
hiftorians  however  have  found  unity,  of  fubjedt  at  leaft,  neceffary  to  make 
their  works  agreeable  ;  and  this  circumftance  is  the  flriking  diftindlion 
between  the  hiftorian  and  the  annalift.  Hiftory  generally  confines  itfelf 
to  the  affairs  of  one  country,  and  cotemporary  events  of  other  countries 
are  never  interwoven  into  the  thread  of  the  ftory,  except  fuch  as  may 
be  conneded  with  the  principal  fubjed.  Writers  of  general  hiftory 
have  a  great  difficulty  to  arrange  their  matter  fo  as  to  produce  any  unity 
of  defign.  The  only  method  by  which  this  is  at  all  attainable  is 
breaking  their  hiftory  into  parts,  each  concluding  with  fome  memorable 
era  or  ftriking  revolution,  which  all  the  preceding  events  may  be 
conceived,  in  fome  degree,  as  inftrumental  in  producing.  A  hiftory 
of  Greece,    from   the   number   of   independent   ftates,    is   fubjedt    to 

[h]  See  Note  i.  Chap.  viii. 

3  L  the 


442  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap,  xxrir, 

the  fame  difadvantage.  In  producing  unity  here.  Col.  Mitford  has  fuc- 
ceeded  wonderfully,  as  I  augur  he  will  when  he  comes  to  the  increafing 
difficulties  attending  the  divided  interefts  of  the  fucceflbrs  of  Alexander, 
where  he  will  have  no  points  of  union  like  the  fuperior  ftates  of  Athens 
and  Sparta  to  affifl  him.  The  Roman  hiflorian  from  Romulus  to  Conflan- 
tine,  has  the  double  advantage  of  unity  of  ftory  and  concluding  eras,arifing, 
if  I  may  ufe  the  poetical  expreflion,  both  from  ailion  and  manners.  But 
the  tafk  Mr.  Gibbon  has  executed  is  the  moft  difficult  one  that  ever  em- 
ployed the  pen  of  an  hiflorian,  and  nothing  but  the  voice  of  hypercriticifm 
can  cenfure  him  for  not  giving  a  unity  to  events  of  which  they  were  utterly 
incapable.  The  hiflory  of  Greece,  however  diverfified  in  its  courfe, 
has  a  great  and  ftriking  cataftrophe  in  becoming  a  Roman  province ; 
and  the  preceding  events  have  a  ftrong  bond  of  union  in  treating  of  a 
people,  however  divided,  ftill  refembling  each  other  in  origin,  in  coun- 
try, and  in  manners.  But  from  the  time  of  Conftantine,  the  Roman 
hiflory  diverges  from  its  common  channel.  The  Grecian  name  appears 
again,  mixes  with,  and  almofl  overpowers  it,  till  mingling  with  a  thou- 
fand  various  and  unconnedled  flreams,  it  gradually  lofes  itfelf  in  the  vafl 
ocean  of  modern  hiflory,  in  which  that  event,  (the  taking  of  Conflan- 
tinople,)  which  is  generally  confidered  as  the  final  period  of  the  Roman 
empire,  fb  far  from  being  a  decifive  boundary,  is  a  mere  point  that 
hardly  attradls  our  obfervation. 

Dr.  Robertfon  faw  the  neceffity  of  this  hiflorical  unity  fo  flrongly,, 
that  he  did  not  chufe  to  interweave  the  affairs  of  America  with  his 
Hiflory  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  but  referved  them  for  a  feparate  workj  a 
work,  for  the  completion  of  which  the  public  impatience  is  flrongly  ex- 
cited, as  the  obflacle  mentioned  is  entirely  removed  j  and  the  hiflory  of 

Britifli 


Note  in.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  443 

Britifh  America  may  conclude  with  one  of  the  greatefl  and  moft  com- 
pleat  political  revolutions  to  be  found  in  the  annals  of  mankind. 


NOTE     III. 

lOR  AS  THE  SEA  FIGHT  AT  SALAMIS,  AND  THE  BATTLE  WITH 
THE  CARTHAGENIANS  IN  SICILY,  THOUGH  THEV  HAPPENED 
AT  THE  SAME  TIME,  BY  NO  MEANS  CONDUCED  TO  THE  SAME 
ENDi  "  SO  ALSO  EVEN  IN  PROGRESSIVE  TIME,  EVENTS  MAY 
*'  SOMETIMES  BE  CONNECTED  WITH  EACH  OTHER,  AND  YET 
"  NO  PARTICULAR  COMMON  CONSEQUENCES  MAY  ARISE  FROM 
**    THEM." 

THIS  paflage  is  pafled  over  by  all  the  tranflators  and  commentators 
that  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of  confulting,  as  if  it  were  not  attended 
with  any  difficulty,  but  it  appears  to  me  totally  irreconcileable  both 
with  itfelf  and  with  the  preceding  fentence  without  allowing  Ibme  lati- 
tude of  conjedlure.  Ariftotle  obferves  that  hiflory  differs  from  poetry 
in  confidering  unity  of  time  only  without  at  all  regarding  unity  of 
adlion  :  and  that  if  two  events  happen  at  the  fame  period  of  time,  how- 
ever unconnedled  they  or  the  objeds  to  which  they  relate  may  be,  they 
have  fufficient  unity  for  the  purpofe  of  the  hiftorian  :  and  this  is  well 
illuftrated  by  the  battles  of  Salamis  and  Sicily,  both  which,  according 
to  Herodotus,  happened  on  the  fame  day,  and  are  mentioned  by  that 
hiftorian  in  the  fame  book,  though  they  had  not  the  moft  diftant  rela- 
tion to  each  other.  Here  all  would  be  perfedlly  clear,  if  the  part  be- 
tween the  inverted  commas  in  the  quotation  that  is  at  the  head  of  this 
note,  and  which  in  the  original  commences  with  «rw  y.ai,  and  concludes 
with  TiXog,  were  omitted,  as  Mr.  Winftanley  fays  it  is  in  a  ms.  in  the 

3  L  2  Medician 


444  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.xxiii. 

Medicean  library.  But  admitting  this  part  as  genuine,  (which  I  think 
we  ought  from  the  authority  of  fo  many  mss.  and  editions,  againft  this 
fingle  one,)  the  example  fo  exadly  in  point  with  the  obfervation  feems 
introduced  merely  for  the  purpofe  of  bringing  in  a  fentence  which  is 
diametrically  in  oppofition  to  it,  and  which  it  appears  to  me  can  be  only 
reconciled  with  tlie  context  by  fuppofmg  fomething  prior  to  the  quota- 
tion intervening  in  the  original  between  aXXi/jXot,  and  utnrif,  perhaps  to  this 
effed.  That  even  fucceflive  and  connedted  events  may  not  always  be 
fufficient  for  the  purpofe  of  the  poet.  And  then  all  that  follows  is  per- 
fedlly  natural  and  explains  the  reafon,  which  is  afterwards  compleatly 
illuftrated  by  the  examples  from  the  lefler  Iliad  at  the  conclufion  of  the 
chapter,  which  though  happening  in  fucceflive  time  and  conned:ed  wdth 
each  other,  had  not  yet  that  degree  of  unity  which  was  requifite  for  aa 
epic  poem. 

Mr.  Twining  has  not  tranflated  this  paflage  with  his  ufual  accuracy. 

•  So  alfo  in  fucceflive  events  we  fometimes  fee  one  thing  follow  another 

*  without  being  connected  to  it  by  such  relation.'  However 
we  may  difi^er  in  opinion  as  to  the  reading  of  SuTe^ov  [^.ejct  Soije^is,  whether 
we  conceive  the  prepofition  i/.b]x  as  governing  the  genitive  or  [i]  the 
accufative,  fl:ill  e£  uv  eV  ^Sev  -ytvejut  rtXog  can  never  fignify  any  relation 
between  the  fucceflive  events,  but  mufl:  mean  fome  common  confequence 
to  arife  from  both.  The  fentence  feems  to  imply,  that  if  the  events 
fhould  be  even  fo  conneded  as  to  be  proper  for  the  beginning  and  middle 
of  a  poetic  fable,  they  may  yet  be  incapable  of  producing  a  proper  end,  a 
catafl:rophe  conducive  to  the  [k]  purpofe  of  epic  or  tragic  imitation. 

[i]  See  note  on  the  txannation.. 

[k]  See  Chapter  vir..    It  is  obfervable  that  Ariftotle,  at  the  begliining  of  this  chapter,  ufcs 
t/Aoj  exadtty  in  the  fame  fenfc  he  does  rtXi-Slft  in  that* 

NOTE 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISlTOTLE.  445 


NOTE    IV. 

HE    DID    NOT    EVEN    ATTEMPT    TO    INCLUDE    THE    WHOLE 

TROJAN    WAR. 

MR.  ADDISON  I  believe  thought  he  paid  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough an  hyperbolical  compliment,  when  he  called  the  tranfadtions  of 
the  fummer,  in  which  the  battle  of  Blenheim  was  fought, 

*  An  Iliad  rifing  out  of  one  campaign.* 

When  on  examination  the  adion  of  the  Iliad  takes  up  only  forty-feven 
days. 

Boflu  has  alfo  calculated  the  duration  of  the  adlion  of  the  Odyfley  and 
the  iEneid.  He  fixes  the  former  at  fifty-eight  days,  and  the  latter  at 
half  a  year. 

It  is  impoffible  to  apply  thefe  critical  compafles  to  a  poem  whofe 
a<5tion  pafles 

*  Beyond  the  flaming  bounds  of  fpace  and  time." 

It  is  obvious  however  that  the  Paradife  Loft  is  confined  within  fuch 
a  period,  that  the  connexion  of  the  [l]  beginning,  the  middle,  and  the 
end  is  eafily  comprehended ;  and  that  though  the  adlion  is  continued,  it 
enters  fufEciently  into  detail  to  be  perfectly  interefting  [m]. 

[l]  Sec  Chap.  viii.  [m]  See  Note  n.  Chap,  xxiv.. 

NOTE 


446  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap,  xxiii. 


NOTE     V. 

TAKING     THEREFORE     ONLY     ONE     PART    FOR     HIS     SUBJECT,     HE 
INTRODUCES  ABUNDANCE  OF  EPISODES  FROM  THE  OTHER  PARTS. 

FROM  what  is  faid  by  Ariftotle  in  Chapter  xvii.  where  he  gives  the 
plain  ftory  of  the  Iphigenia  in  Tauris,  and  the  Odyfley,  it  appears  that 
he  confiders  every  thing  as  epifode  that  is  at  all  extraneous  to  the  fimple 
ftory.  Every  thing  in  fhort,  that  if  either  taken  away  or  altered,  would 
make  no  effential  change  in  the  principal  event  of  the  fable ;  and  even 
the  epifode,  he  adds,  fhould  be  nearly  connefted  with  the  ilory,  as  he 
inftances  in  the  madnefs  of  Oreftes.  The  fame  injundlion  as  to  the 
epopee  is  infinuated  here,  as  the  epifodes  of  Homer  are  faid  to  be  taken 
from  the  events  of  the  war,  of  which  he  brings  the  catalogue  of 
the  fliips  as  an  example.  However  Homer  did  not  confine  himfelf 
always  to  thefe  congenial  epifodes  as  in  the  hiftory  of  Bellerophon  given 
by  Glaucus  in  the  fixth  Iliad. 

From  what  Ariftotle  fays,  and  the  examples  he  produces  in  both  places, 
he  feems  to  make  this  diftindtion  between  the  dramatic  and  epic  epifode. 
That  the  firft  fliould  be  an  event,  though  not  effentially,  yet  clofely  con- 
neded  with  the  ftory,  and  happening  to  one  of  the  charadlers  as  the 
madnefs  of  Oreftes,  and  not  any  detached  circumftance,  any  interefting 
under-plot  which  in  fo  fliort  a  compofition  as  a  tragedy  would  hurt  the 
unity,  and  divide  the  intereft  of  the  fable,     [n]  But  that  the  epopee  from 

[n]  See  Chap.  xxvi. 

its 


Note  V.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  447 

its  greater  extent,  to  which  variety  was  more  neceflary,  and  from  its  intereft 
being  lefs  comprefled,  and  in  which  fo  powerful  an  effedl  was  not  requifite, 
was  indulged  with  a  freer  ufe  of  epifodes,  inthemfelves  interefting,  provided 
they  were  connedled  at  all  with  the  main  fubjedl;  even  fo  interefting  as 
to  form  a  proper  bafis  for  a  tragedy.  This  however  he  does  not  pro- 
pofe  fo  much  as  an  addition  to  the  excellencies  of  the  epopee,  as  an  in- 
dulo;ence  allowed  to  its  defeats. 


O" 


The  Paradife  Loft  abounds  with  epifodes,  all  of  which  are  connedted 
with  the  fable.  The  modern  comic  epopee  affords  examples  of  all  forts. 
The  worft  are  thofe  like  the  novels  introduced  in  Don  Quixote,  fuch  as 
[o]  the  *  Ill-timed  Curiofity,'  which  Fielding  has  imitated  in  the 
ftory  of,  *  The  Man  of  the  Hill'  in  Tom  Jones,  and  •  Paul  and  Leonard' 
in  Jofeph  Andrews.  Thefe  epifodes  exadily  refemble  the  eaftern  ar- 
rangement of  fable.  The  ftory  of  '  Cardenio  and  Lucinda'  in  Don 
Quixote,  and  ftill  more  *  Nightingale  and  Mrs.  Miller's  Daughter'  in 
Tom  Jones,  are  epifodes  conne(fled  with  the  fable.  Perhaps  the  true 
criterion  of  the  propriety  of  an  epic  epifode  is  the  pofllbility  of  the 
reader's  paffing  it  over  without  breaking,  in  the  leaft  degree,  the  chain  of 
the  narrative. 


[o]  II  curioso  impertinente,  which  has  been  wifely  rendered  in  Englifli,  The  cu- 
rious IMPERTINENT. 


CHAP. 


448  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xxiv. 


CHAP.     XXIV. 


NOTE     I. 


THE    ILIAD    IS    SIMPLE    AND    PATHETIC,     THE    ODYSSEY    COMPLI- 
CATED   AND    FULL    OF    CHARACTERISTIC    MANNERS. 

3y  fimple,  as  Ariftotle  has  already  mentioned  (Chap.  X.),  is  meant 
without  peripetia  or  difcovery,  which  is  ftridly  the  charader  of  the  IHad. 
The  charafter  alfo  of  pathetic  which  he  gives  it,  taken  in  tlie  fame  fenfe 
as  it  is  in  Chapter  XI.  when  apphed  to  tragedy,  is  exadly  fitted  to 
it,  for  it  is  replete  with  deaths,  wounds,  and  other  difaftrous  events. 
The  Odyfley  is  compUcated  both  from  abounding  in  difcoveries,  as 
Ariftotle  particularly  obferves,  and  deriving  its  cataftrophe  from  a 
very  beautiful  and  affe<fling  peripetia.  I  confefs  I  do  not  fee  fo  ilrongly 
its  fuperiority  over  the  Iliad  in  point  of  manners.  The  Iliad  is  defervedly 
celebrated  for  nice  difcrimination  of  charadler,  as  nice  perhaps  as  the  rude 
and  uniform  way  of  life  of  the  age  would  permit ;  and  many  of  thefe 
ftrok.es  which  charaderize  the  manners,  are  alfo  in  the  highefl  degree 
pathetic,  ufing  the  word  in  its  modern  acceptation.  Such,  for  inftance, 
as  the  interview  between  Hedor  and  Andromache,  and  the  lamentation 
over  the  body  of  Hedor,  efpecially  the  fpeech  of  Helen  [p]. 

However  not  only  Ariftotle,  but  even  Homer  himfelf  charaderizes 
the  hero  of  the  Odyfley  as  being  verfed  in  the  manners  of  various  na- 

[p]  See  Note  ii.  Chap.  xv. 

tlons. 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  449 

tions.  Therefore  though  the  delineation  of  charadter  is  ftrongly  marked 
in  the  Iliad,  and  though  in  fa6t  the  anger  of  Achilles,  which  forms  the 
ground-work  of  the  poem,  is  rather  a  quality  than  an  adlion  ;  yet  from  the 
variety  of  fcenes,  nations  and  ranks  of  men  defcribed  in  the  Odyffey,  the 
manners  themfelves  may  be  introduced  oftener,  and  mufl  be  more  diverfi- 
iied  than  in  a  work,  whofe  fcene  of  ad:ion  is  confined  to  a  camp  and  abe- 
iieged  city.  Homer  himfelf  mentions  variety  as  charadteriflic  of  the 
manners  of  the  OdylTey. 

But  if  the  OdyfTey  [qJ  does  not  appear  to  me  fo  ftrongly  diflinguidied 
from  the  Iliad  in  point  of  manners,  as  to  make  them  a  charader  of  con- 
tradiftindlion ;  on  the  other  hand  I  muft  again  repeat  what  I  have  be- 
fore obferved[R],  that  I  can  by  no  means  accede  to  the  opinion  of 
Longinus,  as  to  the  decided  fuperiority  of  the  Iliad  over  the  Odyffey  in 
general :  though  perhaps  the  Iliad  may  have  fome  paffages  more  ftrik- 
ingly  fublime  than  any  thing  to  be  found  in  the  Odyffey ;  and  the 
Odyffey  may  in  fome  places  have  carried  the  marvellous  into  the  extreme. 
Yet  furely  in  the  condudl  and  intereft  of  the  fable,  the  Odyffey  has  infi- 
nitely the  advantage ;  and,  for  this  reafon  probably,  it  appears  to  have 

Co.]  It  appears  to  have  been  at  fome  time  a  doubt  among  the  critics,  whether  the  Iliad  and 
Odyfley  were  the  work  of  the  fame  perfonj  for  in  the  edition  of  Homer  by  Villoifon,  wiiich 
I  have  already  mentioned  in  Note  vii.  on  Chap,  x  v.  near  the  conclufion,  in  one  of  the  Scholia 
the  mark  !-  called  (^ittaJ)  xa6apa,  befides  the  ufe  there  mentioned  as  afligned  to  it,  is  faid  to 
point  out  paffages  (probably  in  confutation)  to  thofe  who  afcribe  the  Iliad  and  Odyffey  to  dif- 
ferent poets.  Upog  T2?  Xiyoi^lai;  /ayi  ili/xi  t5  aJtra  zjoiyith  IxioiSx  xa)  Cavtr(7iiixi/.  So  long 
ago  as  the  year  1769,  the  late  Dr.  Hunter  informed  me,  a  friend  of  his  was  writing  a  treatife 
en  this  fubjeft.     I  do  not  believe  it  has  ever  been  made  public. 

fa]  See  Note  iv.  Chap.  vi. 

3  M  been 


450  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxiv. 

becH  the  greater  favorite  of  Ariftotle  who  draws  infinitely  more  examples 
from  it  in  this  work  than  from  the  Iliad,  a  mark  of  approbation  that  infi- 
nitdy  outweighs  the  cenfure  of  [s]  Longinus, 

It  is  not  impoffible  that  the  fubjeft  of  the  Iliad  might  be  more  agree- 
able to  the  tafle  of  Longinus,  than  the  OdyfTey,  which  is  in  fadt  a  deli- 
neation of  the  private  manners  of  the  higher  ranks  of  Greece,  and  there- 
fore not  fo  capable  of  the  Sublime  as  the  Iliad.  One  drew  his  charac- 
ters as  kings  and  warriors,  the  other  as  fathers,  fons  and  huibands.  I 
mean  in  general;  there  are  beautiful  deviations  from  the  rule  in  both,  and 
which  receive  additional  beauty  from  being  contrafled  with  tlie  leadino- 
features  of  the  refped:ive  poems.. 

[t]  Pope  has  been  much  and  juflly  blamed  for  altering  the  manners 
of  Homer,  from  a  falie  refinement  which  he  borrowed  from  the  French 
critics  while  he  abufed  them  ,•  and  which,  if  the  capricious  tafi:e  of  the 

[s]  I  fhould  hardly  have  made  any  excufe  for  this  alTertion,  had  not  fo  elegant  a  critic  as 
Mr.  Hayley  preferred  Longinus  to  the  Stagirite.  I  may  be  prejudiced  perhaps,  for  it  is  im- 
poffible to  feparate  our  opinion  of  the  dodtrine,  from  that  we  have  of  the  perfon  who  delivers  it,, 
but  in  this  cafe  I  own  I  can  form  no  comparifon  between  an  Attic  writer,  the  immediate  fuc- 
teflbr  of  Xenophon  and  Plato,  and  a  femi-barbarian,  even  if  an  Athenian,  as  fome  aflert,  of  the 
age  of  Aurelian,  one  of  thofe 

— —  Quos  Grsecia  non  fuos  alumnos 
Agnovit  in  pejus  mentis  aevi. 

Gn  this  occafion  I  am  almoft  tempted  to  adopt  the  ftrong  diftin^lion  M.  Leffing  makes  be- 
tween the  Greek  and  Roman  writers ;  (Dramaturgie,  Part  ii.  page  132.)  and  fay,  '  It  is  not 
'  impoffible  that  one  may,  for  once  only,  have  judged  better  than  die  other,  but  on  the  fimple 
'  poffibility  it  is  what  I  would  not  believe  in  any  cafe.' 

[t]  See  Note  i.  Chap.  xv.  and  Note  ly.  on  this  Chapter. 

public 


Note  r.  POETIC  DF  ARISTOTLE.  ^yi 

pHiiik  at  the  time  of  his  tranflatioii  tnade  neceffaf^r'^juMpfefe  of  pro- 
priety has  now  exploded.  But  this  is  carried  fo  far  in  the  Odyfiey  as  to 
be  perfedly  abfurd,  and  entirely  to  change  the  manners,  and  confequently 
the  incidents  (which  are  clofely  conneded  with  them,)  of  the  whole 
work.  Pope  all  through  the  Odyffey  reprefents  Telemachus  as  not 
only  having  his  Hibflance  wafted  and  his  life  attempted  by  the  fuitors,  but 
as  having  his  paternal  throne  ufurped,  though  there  is  no  idea  of  fuch 
a  thing  mentioned  in  the  original,  nor  does  Telemachus  [ujever  com- 
plain of  any  other  injury  than  the  wafle  of  his  flocks  and  herds,  and  the 
riots  in  his  houfe.  That  Ulyfles  was  an  eledled  and  not  an  hereditary 
prince  is  obvious  from  the  private  fituation  of  Laertes,  who,  had  he 
been  king,  would  hardly  have  given  up  the  government  to  Ulyffes  before 
or  during  the  fiege  of  Troy.  He  is  not  at  the  return  of  UlyiTes  fo  old  as 
to  be  unable  to  bear  arms  and  even  kill  an  armed  warrior  with  his  fpear; 
and  the  time  of  the  abfence  of  Ulyfles  was  twenty  years.  In  the  fecond 
Book  of  the  Odyfl"ey,  when  Telemachus  appeals  to  the  aflembly  of  the 
chiefs.  Pope  tells  us,  when  he  came 

'  His  father  s  throne  he  hll'd,  while  dlfl:ant  fl:ood 
*  The  hoary  peers  and  aged  wifdom  bow'd ; 

and  when  he  rofe  '  majeflic'  to  fpeak 

'  His  royal  hand  th'  Imperial  fceptre  fway'd.' 


[u]  In  the  firft  book  of  the  OdyfTey,  Antinous  mentions  the  hereditary  right  of  Tele- 
machus to  the  monarchy  in  a  taunting  manner.  Telemachus  in  anfwer,  difclaims  any  exclu- 
five  right  to  the  fucceflion  of  the  government,  but  aflerts  his  right  to  his  father's  property,  both 
which  are  confirmed  by  Eurymachus.  It  is  curious  to  fee  how  completely  Pope  has  mifrepre- 
fented  this,  both  in  his  tranflation  and  note  upon  it. 


3  M  2  This 


452  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE      Chap.  xxiv. 

This  is  exaftly  a  prince  regent  in  the  houfe  of  lords ;  but  the  original 
only  fays,  [x]  that  he  fat  in  his  father's  feat  and  the  elders  gave  way  to 
him,  as  feems  natural  both  out  of  refpedt  to  his  birth  and  becaufe  it  was 
at  his  defire  they  met,  and  confequently  he  was  to  declare  his  caufe  of 
complaint  to  them.  And  as  for  the  imperial  fceptre  it  was  no  more 
than  an  enfign  of  oratory  which  [y]  the  herald  ufed  to  put  in  the  hands 
of  all  public  fpeakers  when  they  addrelfed  a  large  aflembly. 

[z]  '  On  feats  of  llone  within  the  facred  place, 
'  The  rev'rend  elders  judged  the  dubious  cale 
*  Alternate ;  each  th'  attefting  fceptre  took, 
^  And  rifing  folenin  each  his  fentence  fpoke.' 

The  conflant  repetition  of  court  and  palace,  is  in  the  fame  flyle;  bur 
the  continual  appellation  of  the  prince,  which  is  given  to  Tclemachus,  is 

[]x]  E'^/Io  iJ'  iv  zralpoi  9w')t£0  u^xv  ^i  yipovje^.      But  though  hereditary  fuccefllon  to  rega! 
authority  was  no  claim  as  clearly  appears,  I  think  from  the  whole  ftory  of  the  Odyfley,  it- 
feems  clearly  to  have  been  the  general  praftice  in  Greece  during  the  era  of  the  Trojan  war. . 

Kiju^  nag"vimo. 

[z]  See  Iliad  Book  xviii,  v.  504.  in  the  original ;  585  in  Pope.    I  have  altered  the  fecondi 
line  which  is  tranflated  without  the  leaft  authority  from  Homer, 

'  The  rev'rend  elders  nodded  o'er  the  cafe.' 

The  meaning' of  this  paflage  feems  to  have  been  univerfally  miftaken;  the  obvious  meaning  is 
that  given  by  Col.Mitford  in  his  hiftory  of  Greece.  See  Chap.  iii.  Se<St.  11.  who  fuppofes' 
the  talents  of  gold  to  be  the  objc£t  of  the  litigation  not  die  reward  of  the  judge,  and  that  the 
fpeakers  pleaded,  not  judged  alternately,  a|U»if?i<J'ij  J"'  laixa^ov.  Aixcc^Ofjixt ,  in  the  middle  voice, 
has  this  fenfe.  l^hough  I  canr.ot  recoiled  mother  inftance  of  its  being  ufcd  in  this  fcnfc  in  the 
active  voice,  it  feems  fo  obvioufly  necefTary  here,  that  I  am  inclined  to  confider  this  as  one. 

a  mafter- 


Note  r.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  453 

a  mafter-piece  of  abfurdity.  Prince  in  its  general  acceptation  is  equiva- 
lent with  king ;  in  the  appropriated  language  of  modern  etiquette,  it 
may  be  called  the  fecond  title  of  a  king,  which  is  beftowed  on  his  eldeft 
fon,  to  whom,  with  the  article  the  prefixed  it  peculiarly  belongs.  But 
it  is  fully  as  abfurd  to  give  this  title  to  the  fon  even  of  a  Greek  hereditary 
monarch,  as  it  would  have  been  in  Shakefpear,  who,  following  our  older 
writers,  made  Thefeus,  Duke  of  Athens,  to  have  called  his  fon,  had  he 
introduced  him  in  his  drama  the  Marquis,  a  fault  that  has  been  really 
committed  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  in  their  tragedy  of  Cupid's  Re- 
venge. But  we  cannot  wonder  at  any  abfurdity  in  writers,  who  make 
Demetrius  Poliorcetes  fire  [a]  a  piflol.  This  title  given  to  Telemachus*. 
reminds  me  of  a  circumftance  I  have  met  with  in  fome  novel,  where  an 
African  prince  is  introduced  to  an  affedled  and  ignorant  woman,  who 
afks  him  if  he  is  Prince  of  Wales  in  his  own  country,  or  only  one  o£~ 
die  younger  princes. 

In  all  interefting  narrations  where  manners  are  ftrongly  painted,  the 
poet  fhould  be  particularly  careful  not  to  blend  them  too  much  with  the 
affedting  parts.  This  is  more  particularly  to  be  attended  to  in  the  comic 
epopee  where  manners  are  drawn  with  a  bolder  hand,  and  their  tendency 
is  frequently  fuch  as  muft  counteradl  the  afFedling  parts  of  the  action. 
Mifs  Burney,  who  is  fecond  to  none  in  juft  and  well-difcriminated  por- 
traits of  life  and  manners,  runs  a  little  into  this  fault  in  her  novel  of 
Cecilia.  When  the  heroine  is  on  the  road  to  meet  Delville  in  London 
and  be  privately  married  to  him,  we  are  too  much  interefted  in  her  fitu- 
ation  to  attend  to  the  converfation  oi  the  group  that  embarralTes  her  on 

[a]  See  Note  i.  Chap.  xii.  There  is  a  print  By  Rembrandt  of  Tobit,  where  the  fcene  is  laid. 
in, a  Flemifh  kitchen,  with  dried  herrings  hanging  in  a  great  chimney  corner. 

the- 


454  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xxiv. 

the  way.  The  fame  may  be  partly  faid  of  the  Vauxhall  fcene,  but  more 
ftrongly  of  the  fcene  between  Hopfon  and  Cecilia  immediately  preced- 
ing her  terrible  interview  with  Delville,  which  brings  on  the  catafbrophe. 
This  mixture  of  exceedingly  well  drawn  comic  charafter,  with  the 
ftrongeft:  force  of  tragic  fituation,  muft  contribute  in  great  meafure  to 
weaken  the  eftedl  of  both.  Fielding  has  avoided  this  in  his  novel  of 
Tom  Jones.  He  introduces  no  ftriking  delineation  of  charadler  from 
the  time  of  his  imprifoniftent  till  the  final  difcovery.  The  manners  in 
Jofeph  Andrews  are  highly  colored  till  the  conclufion,  but  then  it  con- 
tains no  deep  diftrefs.  Richardfon  was  the  moil  unequal  drawer  of  cha- 
radler  imaginable.  Mr.  Greville  has  painted  this  painter  of  manners  with' 
fuch  lively  and  jufl  traits,  that  I  truft  I  fliall  be  forgiven  for  inferting  a 
fketch  of  the  pi<Sture.     *  He  is  in  many  particulars  the  moft  minute, 

*  fine,  delicate  obferver  of  human  nature  I  ever  met  with,  the  moft  re- 

*  fined  and  juft  in  his  fentiments ;  but  he  often  carries  that  refinement 

*  into  puerility,  and  that  juftnefs  into  taftelefsnefs.     He  not  only  enters 

*  upon  thofe  beautiful  and  touching  diftinflions  which  the  grofs  concep- 

*  tions  of  moft  men  are  incapable  of  difcerning,  but  he  alfo  falls  upon  all 

*  the  trivial  filly  circumftances  of  fociety  which  can  have  attradtions  only 

*  for  the  nurfery.     His  underftanding  feems  to  be  hampered  and  con- 

*  fined  J  it  wants  enlargement,  freedom,  or  to  fay  all  in  one  word,  tafte. 
'  His  men  of  the  world  are  ftrange  debauchees,  his  women  outrageoufly 

*  outre'es  both  in  good  and  bad  qualities  [b].' 

I  cannot  quit  a  note  which  began  with  a  comparifon  between  the 
epopees  of  Homer,  without  taking  notice  of  another  which  has  been 
often  compared  with  them,  and  ftrange  to  tell,  often  preferred  to  them. 


[b]  Greville's  Maxims,  3d  edit,  page  51. 

I  mean 


Note  r.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  455 

I  mean  the  iEneid.  I  muft  fay  I  am  afloniflied  how  fiich  a  comparifou 
could  ever  have  exifted.  OriginaHty  and  invention  are  the  foul  of 
poetry;  and  Virgil,  in  his  ^neid,  has  no  more  pretenfions  to  thefe  than 
Pope  has  in  his  tranflation.  It  is  true  he  has  frequently  ornamented  the 
fimplicity  of  the  old  bard,  and  perhaps  fometimes  with  advantage,  but 
certainly  oftenerwith  a  contrary  eftecSl,  and  fo  has  our  countryman.  And 
I  confefs  I  think  in  general,  the  more  Virgil  has  deviated  from  his  arche- 
type the  more  he  has  deviated  from  excellence.  What  ?  I  may  be 
afked,  do  you  wifti,  inftead  of  writing  the  JEneld,  he  had  tranflated  the 
Iliad  and  OdyfTey  ?  I  am  much  inclined  to  anfwer,  Yes.  And  I  think 
where  Pope  has  given  the  fenfe  of  his  original  unfophifticated,  his  poem, 
has  a  more  original  air  than  the  ^Eneid.  The  great  difference  between 
Homer  and  Virgil  confifts  in  this,  and  it  is  in  fa6t  all  the  difference 
between  poetical  excellence  and  mediocrity ;  Homer  defcribed  what 
he  had  feen  ;  he  combined  incidents  which  he  knew  were  founded 
on  truth  and  nature ;  he  painted  manners  which  were  real ;  he 
ufed  machinery,  the  exiftence  of  which  he  believed  -,  he  was  the 
Shakefpear  of  Greece,  with  the  advantage  of  writing  in  the  moft 
perfedl  language,  [mJ  in  its  higheft  ftate  of  refinement,  and  with  the 
moft  harmonious  verfification  imaginable.  An  advantage  never  enjoyed 
by  any  other  poet.  For,  except  Homer,  no  writer  has  lived  at  a  period 
which  at  the  fame  time  furnilhed  manners  and  incidents  beft  calculated 
for  poetical  imitation,  and  a  language  at  the  fame  time  at  its  higheft 
ftate  of  perfeftion,  and  capable  of  every  degree  of  poetical  ornament.. 

[m]  Greek  verfe  received  no  additional  ornament  after  Homer.  The  lateft  Greek  poets,, 
to  the  time  of  Oppian,  attempted  neither  innovation  or  improvement ;  they  tried  no  other 
road  to  excellence  in  poetry  than  vi^hat  the  great  mafler  of  the  art  had  pointed  out  to  them,. 
See  Note  iv.  on  this  chapter. 

Ini 


456  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxiv. 

In  this  laft  advantage  Virgil  was  indulged  :  he  wrote  in  the  happiefl  era 
of  the  Romnn  language,  and  of  that  era  his  ftyle  was  the  pureft.  The 
only  difference  between  the  two  poets  in  this  refpedl  lies  in  the  fuperi- 
ority  of  the  Greek  language,  and  its  more  natural  verfification  [n].  But 
in  the  other  refpedls  his  inferiority  was  great  indeed.  The  iDanners  at 
Rome  were  as  little  natural  in  the  Auguftan  age  as  they  are  now  at 
London  or  Paris.  The  wars  of  the  time  were  not  diredled  by  the  pri- 
vate paffions  of  individuals  -,  they  were  the  wars  of  political  ambition. 
In  fuch  wars  nothing  is  interefling  or  pidlurefque.  He  was  obliged  to 
defcribe  incidents  he  never  favv,  paint  manners  he  was  not  converlant 
with,  and  introduce  machinery,  the  exiftence  of  which  was  generally 
dilbelieved  by  himfelf,  and  all  the  higher  ranks  of  his  cotemporaries. 
In  confequence  of  thefe  circumftances,  every  deviation  from  his  arche- 
type is  a  deviation  from  truth  and  nature.  In  imitating  things  in  which 
he  had  no  other  guide  to  diredt  him  than  Homer,  when  he  quitted  that 
guide  he  muft  go  wrong ;  and  had  he  imitated  fcenes  familiar  to  him 
they  would  have  been  as  ill  fitted  for  the  epopee  as  the  fubjedt  of  the 
Henriade.  Of  what  Virgil  could  do  when  he  had  a  fubjedl  familiar  to 
himfelf,  and  proper  for  poetry,  though  of  an  inferior  kind,  the  divine 
Georgic  will  be  an  eternal  monument.  Yet,  beautiful  as  the  epifode  of 
Eurydice  is,  I  cannot  think  the  fourth  book  of  the  Georgic  equal  to  the 

[n]  See  Note  vi.  Chap.  xxir.  But  whatever  might  be  the  inferiority  of  Latin  to  Greek 
verfe  is  repaid  by  the  fuperiority  of  Latin  to  Greek  oratory.  If  Greek  is  the  natural  lan- 
guage of  poetry,  Latin  is  the  ornamented  language  of  eloquence.  When  Longinus  hefitates 
which  to  prefer,  Demofthenes  or  Cicero,  his  real  decifion  is  apparent.  For  what  Dr.  John- 
fon  has  faid  of  our  northern  fellow  countrymen  may  with  greater  propriety  be  faid,  cfpecially 
in  matters  of  literature,  of  the  countrymen  of  Longinus.  '  A  Greek  muft  be  a  very  fturdy 
*  moralift  who  did  not  love  Greece  better  than  truth.'  I  however  confine  this  to  literary 
rather  than  political  vanity.     See  Note  vi.  on  this  chapter. 

Others. 


Note  I,  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  457 

others.  The  three  firfl  books  mufl  pleafe,  from  their  views  of  general 
nature,  but  furely  the  battles  and  internal  government  of  bees  is  not 
very  interefting  in  a  poetical  light.  I  know  the  commentators  talk  of 
an  afcending  fcale  in  the  four  books,  from  corn  and  grafs,  to  trees,  to 
animated  nature,  and  the  mimic  adions  of  men,  and  which,  in  the  laft 
inflance  particularly,  is  flrongly  enforced  by  Mr.  Harris,  in  his  Philolo- 
gical Enquiries,  page  123.  I  confefs  this  account  of  the  bees  feems  to 
me  very  congenial  with  that  fpecies  of  the  burlefque  which  is  derived 
from  dreffing  mean  objecfls  in  pompous  words,  it  reminds  me  of  the  Ba- 
trachomyomachia  of  Homer  [o]. 

[p]  As  a  proof  of  the  fimplicity  of  the  times  defcribed  by  Homer,  it 
is  a  great  doubt  if  his  kings  and  heroes  could  write  or  read;  at  leaft  when 
the  Grecian  leaders  caft  lots  who  fliall  engage  Hecflor  in  fmgle  combat, 
in  the  feventh  Iliad  they  only  make  their  marks,  for  when  the  lot  ligned  by 
Ajax  falls  out  of  the  helmet,  and  is  carried  round  by  the  herald,  none 
of  the  chiefs  know  to  whom  it  belongs  till  it  is  brought  to  Ajax  himfelf. 

[o]  Dr.  Johnfon  fays,  (See  Boswell's  Life,  Vol.  ii.  p,  454,)  '  The  Georgics  did  not 
'  give  me  fo  much  pleafure  as  the  iEneiJ,  except  the  fourth  book.'  An  inflance  of 
his  prediledion  for  defcription  of^ohtical  fociety,  beyond  the  beauties  of  nature. 

[p]  The  probability  that  Homer  lived  much  nearer  the  times  he  defcribed  than  is  ufually 
fuppofed  has  been  fhewn  by  Mr.  Mitford  with  as  much  clearnefs  as  fo  diftant  an  event  is  capable 
of.     See  Mitford's  History  of  Greece,  Appendix  to  Chap.  iv. 


3  N  NOTE 


458  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xxiv. 


NOTE      II. 

THE  PROPER  LENGTH  OF  THE  EPOPEE  HAS  BEEN  ALREADY 
MENTIONED;  THERE  SHOULD  BE  A  POSSIBILITY  OF  COMPRE- 
HENDING THE  BEGINNING  AND  END  IN  ONE  VIEW,  WHICH 
WOULD  BE  ATTAINED  IF  IT  WERE  A  LITTLE  SHORTER  THAN 
THE  COMPOSITIONS  OF  THE  EARLIER  POETS,  AND  REDUCED 
TO  THE  SAME  LENGTH  WITH  THE  NUMBER  OF  TRAGEDIES 
THAT    ARE    PERFORMED    AT    ONE     TIME. 

I  CONFESS  that,  in  the  firft  edition  of  my  tranflation,  I  followed 
the  opinion  of  Dacier  in  underftanding  this  paffage  as  cenfuring  other 
epic  poets  for  the  too  great  length  of  their  poems,  and  recommending 
Homer's  epopees  as  the  ftandard  in  this  refpedl.  But  Mr.  Twining's 
arguments  in  favor  of  the  contrary  opinion  are  fo  conclufive  to  me,  that 
I  have,  without  any  hefitation,  abandoned  my  former  hypothefis  to 
adopt  his.  It  appears  clearly,  both  from  the  authorities  he  cites  and  his 
own  reafoning,  that  four  tragedies  were  the  mofl  that  could  be  fup- 
pofed  to  be  performed  at  one  fitting,  and  which  would  certainly  be  now 
more  than  fufficient  to  wear  out  the  patience  of  the  moft  unwearied  ad- 
mirer of  the  drama  [o^].  And  to  read  a  poem  of  that  length  without 
intermiflion,  though  it  would  not  take  up  fo  much  time  as  the  repre- 

[q^]  Mr.  Twining  has  fhewn  that  the  fpeftators  took  refrefhment  during  this  long  re- 
prefentation.  It  appears  that  this  prafticc,  which  is  ftill  continued  at  Sadler's  Wells,  was 
the  general  cuflom  of  the  old  Englifh  theatre,  where  the  audience  were  regaled  with  tobacco, 
wine  and  beer.  See  a  paflage  from  Prynne's  Histriomastria,  page  322,  cited  by  Mr. 
Steven?,  in  his  Essay  on  the  Origin  of  the  English  Stage. 


fen  tat 


ion 


Note  II.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  459 

fentation  of  a  drama,  would  I  believe,  however  interefting,  never  be 
performed  for  pleafure  only  [r],  and  yet  this  continued  attention  muft  be 
the  point  of  coincidence  to  which  Ariftotle  would  bring  the  drama  and  the 
epopee  [s],  Mr.  Twining  has  alfo  confuted  me  on  my  own  principles. 
I  have  fuppofed  it  improbable  that  Ariftotle,  who  has  been  in  this  chapter 
fo  lavifli  of  his  praifes  of  that  poet  in  exprefs  terms,  fliould  here  cenfure 
a  part  of  his  condudl  by  a  kind  of  indired  implication.  But  Mr. 
Twining  very  properly  afks,  *  Had  Ariltotle  meant  to  except  Homer, 

*  why  not  exprefsly  name  him  ?     Gladly  as  he  appears  to  feize  every 

*  opportunity  of  giving  the  poet  his  juft  praife,  would  he  not  here  alfo 
'  have  oppofed  his  conduct  to  that  of  other  poets  as  he  has  done  in  fo 

*  many  other  inftances  ?  Or  why  indeed  refer  us  to  the  number  of  tra- 
'  gedies  fucceffively  performed  in  one  day,  when  he  might  as  well  have 

*  referred  at  once  to  the  Iliad  or  the  Odyfley.' 

This  fame  reafoning  may  be  applied  to  all  works  of  narrative  imita- 
tion. Richardfon's  Grandifon  and  Clarilla  are  much  too  long.  Perhaps 
Tom  Jones  falls  a  little  under  this  predicament.  What  {hall  we  fay 
then  of  the  Clelias  and  ParthenifTas,  thofe  voluminous  romances  of  the 
laft  age,  whofe  perufal  would  furniili  fix  months  employment  to  the 
application  of  the  reader? 

The  epopee  from  the  nature  of  its  mode  of  imitation,  as  is  well  fliewn 
by  the  Stagirite  in  this  chapter,  independent  of  any  rules  of  art,  has  a 

[r]  Daeier  fays,  that  fometimes  fixteen  tragedies  were  performed  in  fucceflion,  which 
would  have  taken  up  thirty-two  hours,  allowing  only  two  hours  for  each  tragedy.  He  fays 
alfo  the  Iliad  might  be  read  through  in  a  day.  So  it  might  for  a  wager.  See  IVIr.  Tv/ining's 
note. 

[s]  See  Note  iii.  Chap.  xxvi. 

3  N  2  much 


460  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxiv. 

much  larger  fcope  and  richer  materials  for  extending  its  bulk  than  can 
with  the  greateft  indulgence  be  poflibly  allowed  to  the  drama.  *  The 
'  epopee,'  (to  ufe  the  words  of  Metaftafio,  which  are  a  fort  of  para- 
phrafe  of  thofe  of  Ariftotle)  '  has  as  it  were  the  whole  world  for  its 
'  theatre,  and  is  enabled  by  narration  to  avail  itfelf  as  its  material  of 

*  what  different  people  do  at  the  fame  time  in  different  places.'  With 
the  drama  it  is  far  otherwife.  The  latter  advantage  it  is  impoffible  it 
can  attempt  without  utter  abfurdity  ;  and  a  plan  equally  extenlive  with 
the  epopee  is  beyond  its  powers,  [t]  I  have  in  another  place  vindi- 
cated Shakefpear  for  his  deviation  from  the  local  laws  of  the  Greek 
drama ;  but  though  I  acknowledge  myfelf  an  admirer  almofl  to  idolatry 
of  his  excellencies,  I  cannot  bring  myfelf  to  idolize  his  faults.  That 
he  errs  frequently  againft  the  generaf  rules  on  which  dramatic  pro- 
bability can  alone  be  founded,  it  is  impolTible  to  deny,  and  we  can  only 
fay  in  his  juflification  what  Ariftotle  faid  of  the  improbabilities  in  the 
Odyffey,    '  Though  fuch   faults  would   be   intolerable  in  an    inferior 

*  writer,  they  are  here  almofl  lofl  amidft  the  luflre  of  furrounding  beau- 
'  ties.'  Yet  neverthelefs  they  are  faults,  and  as  fuch  Ibould,  if  pofTible, 
be  avoided.  But  the  epic  plan  has  its  boundaries,  as  well  as  the  actual 
length  of  the  poem  itfelf.  Interefl  can  only  be  excited  by  entering  into 
detail.  It  is  not  fuflicient  to  mention  only,  an  affedliiig  incident ;  the 
poet,  if  he  would  influence  the  palTions  of  his  readers,  mufl  defcribe  the 
circumflances  particularly ;  he  muft  not  only,  to  ufe  the  words  of 
Ariflotle  in  another  part  of  this  work  [u],  condudt  his  imitation  welly 
but  dramatically.  The  natural  boundaries  of  the  real  length  of  the 
poem,  and  length  of  plan  are  mutually  dependant  on  each  other.  If  the 
poem  is  itfelf  too  long,  the  flory,  however  drawn  out  in  detail,  will 

[t]  See  Note  in,  Chap.  v.  [u]  Chapter  iv. 

certainly 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  461 

certainly  incur  the  fault  of  not  having  the  beginning,  the  middle,  and 
the  end,  the  neceflaiy  connexion  of  one  part  on  the  other,  eafily  com- 
prehended by  the  memory ;  and  if  a  proper  length  as  to  the  real  bulk 
of  the  poem  is  chofen,  and  a  plan  is  formed  of  too  great  an  extent,  one 
of  two  defedls  muft  arife  from  it.  Either  the  events  and  iituations  muft 
be  fo  nightly  touched  on,  as  to  lofe  their  intcreft,  or  if  the  moft  interefting 
parts  are  fufficiently  detailed,  there  will  be  a  want  of  uniformity  that 
will  difguft,  the  ftory  will  be  broken  into  parts,  and  the  idea  of  the 
length  of  time  will  be  confufed  in  the  mind  of  the  reader. 

It  muft  be  remembered,  that  the  real  natural  unity  of  time,  as  well 
as  that  of  place  depending  upon  it,  are  equally  limited  by  natural  pro- 
bability in  the  epopee  and  the  drama.  If  the  precife  time  of  an  event 
in  the  epopee  is  marked  by  any  circumftance  of  the  adlion,  probability 
is  eflentially  violated,  if  more  events  are  crouded  into  that  time  than 
could  really  happen  in  it.  And  if  in  a  comedy  that  takes  up  only  four 
hours  the  fame  perfon  fhould  not  be  in  London  and  Bath,  or  in  a  tra- 
gedy, the  adlion  of  which  takes  up  twenty-four  hours,  he  fhould  not  be 
feen  at  Rome  and  at  Athens  ;  fo  in  an  epopee,  which  takes  up  forty 
days,  he  fliould  not  in  the  courfe  [x]  of  the  adion  be  in  England  and 
the  Eaft-Indies. 

To  this  circumftance  being  flrongly  pointed  out  by  nature,  we 
muft  impute  that  general  regard  paid  to  it,  even  by  indifferent  novel 
writers,  which  has  been  noticed  in  the  firft  note  on  the  preceding 
chapter :  and  which  has  been  made  (till  more  nsceflary  by  the  mode,  now 

[x]  In  the  Odyfley  the  narrative  of  UlyfTes  to  Alcinous,  and  that  of  JEnszs  to  Dido,  are 
out  of,  the  adion.     See  Bossu,  L.  iii.  Chap.  xi. 

al'moft 


462  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxiv. 

almofl  universally  adopted,  of  throwing  the  narrative  into  correfpondence, 
which  enforces  a  continuity  of  aftion,  with  more  than  dramatic  pre- 
cifion.  We  are  lefs  difgufted  at  the  interval  of  fixteen  years  that  elapfes 
between  the  third  and  fourth  adls  of  the  Winter's  Tale  than  we  fliould 
at  a  twelfth  part  of  that  time  interrupting  an  epiftolary  novel.  The 
Winter's  Tale  is  in  fad:  compofed  of  two  diftind  dramas,  one  the  fequel 
of  the  other ;  and  in  the  laft  there  are  feveral  new  characters  [y].  But 
the  correfpondents  of  the  novel  have  tjie  property  of  the  ancient  chorus, 
in  keeping  the  adtion  always  before  our  eyes.  For  we  can  never  fuppofe 
all  the  perfons  to  drop  their  correfpondence  while  one  of  the  principal 
charadters  acquires  a  fortune  in  the  Baft  Indies,  however  rapidly  it  may 
opcafionally  have  been  done  there.  The  only  refource  the  author  has  in 
this  cafe  is  to  ftep  forth  in  propria  perfona,  and  tell  his  readers  that 
as  nothing  very  interelling  happened  in  that  time  he  has  fupprelfed  the 
correfpondence  [z]. 

Though  the  epopee,  from  the  adion  not  being  immediately  before  the 
eyes,  has  in  moll  refpe£ls  a  greater  latitude  of  indulgence  than  the 
drama  [a],  yet  in  point  of  detail  it  muft  be  much  inferior.  By  detail 
the  events  of  two  hours  may  be  drawn  out  into  a  hundred  pages,  nay 
a  thoufand  when  the  adual  length  of  the  work  is  unlimited ;  and  as  we 
always  calculate  time  by  the  fuccellion  of  ideas,  what  is  minutely  dc- 
fcribed  will  naturally  appear  long.     However  tedious  one  may  be,  and 

[y]  It  is  the  cuftom  of  the  Spanifli  drama,  (at  leaft  the  comedies  of  Cervantes  are  fo 
printed,)  to  prefix  to  each  a£t  the  names  of  the  charaiSters  that  appear  in  it. 

[z]  I  recolleft  an  inftar.ce  of  this  fort  in  a  novel  called  Clara  and  Emmelinc. 
[a]  See  Note  iii.  Chap.  xxvi. 

however 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  AHISTOTLE.  463 

however  agreeable  the  other,  a  month  fpent  in  a  uniform  way,  where 
the  tranlacftions  of  one  day  exadlly  correfpond  with  thofe  of  the  fuc- 
ceeding  ones,  will  on  retrofpe(3:ion  appear  to  have  paffed  more  rapidly 
than  the  fame  fpace  of  time  in  which  we  have  been  engaged  in  a  variety 
of  tranfadlions.  Or,  flill  more  applicably  to  this  cafe,  let  any  perfon 
compare  different  parts  of  the  Englifli  hiftory[B],  whofe  comparative 
chronology  he  has  never  before  examined,  and  he  will  be  furprifed  to 
find  the  different  imprefEon  detail'  of  event  has  rriade  on  his  imagination 
as  to  duration  of  time.  If  much  [c]  of  this  detail  intervenes  between 
any  two  interefting  events,  without  that  detail  being  very  minutely  con- 
nedled  with  both,  the  effed:  of  their  dependence  on  each  other  will  be 
greatly  weakened.  This  is,  to  my  own  feelings,  ftrongly  exemplified  in 
Tom  Jones.     A  very  fliort  period  of  time  intervenes  between  the  fup- 

[b]  For  the  firft  clear  notion  I  had  of  this  I  muft  acknowledge  my  obligation  to  Dr. 
Prieftley's  Charts  of  Hiftory  and  Biography,  where  the  time  is  marked  by  equi-diftant  lines, 
and  the  comparative  chronology  feen  by  one  comprehenfive  view.  See  his  Preliminary  De- 
fcription. 

[c]  In  the  Iliad,  Achilles  kills  Hector  at  his  firft  appearance  in  the  field  after  the  death  of 
his  friend,  but  from  the  intervening  detail  that  behaviour  imprefles  us  a  little  with  the  idea 
of  deliberate  cruelty,  which  might  have  feemed  only  excufable  indignation  if  the  events  had 
been  more  obvioufly  connefled.     In  this  inflance  Virgil  has  been  fuperior  to  his  mafter ; 

'  Pallas  te  hoc  vulnere !     Pallas 

'  Immolat !' 

Is  an  imitable  inftance  of  poetical  art. 

This  in  real  events  is  evident,  as  in  the  execution  of  criminals.  Many  an  atrocious 
offender,  whofe  death  immediately  fucceeding  his  offence  would  have  been  looked  upon  with 
fatisfaftion,  becomes,  from  the  interval  between  them,  an  object  of  univerfal  pity.  Our 
legiflature  has  feen  this,  and  in  the  moft  atrocious  of  all  offences,  murder,  execution  fol- 
lows clofely  after  con\idtion. 

pofed 


464  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xxiv. 

poled  final  parting  of  Jones  and  Sophia ;  yet  fo  long  a  detail  of  events, 
in  which,  though  Sophia  appears,  her  charadler,  as  to  her  paflion  for 
Jones,  is  fo  little  affedling,  and  Jones  is  involved  in  fo  many  adventures 
in  which  flie  is  unconcerned,  or  rather  worfe  than  unconcerned,  that 
their  re-union  does  not  give  us  that  lively  fatisfadlion  we  fhould  exped: 
from  it,  when  we  feel  ourfelves  fo  ftrongly  affefted  by  their  feparation. 
This  however  may  be  partly  imputed  to  the  conducft  of  the  poet  in  the 
cataftrophe,  where  I  own  the  behaviour  of  Sophia  on  her  meeting  with 
Jones,  her  obilinate  refufal  of  him,  and  her  extraordinary  mode  of  after- 
wards confenting  to  an  immediate  marriage  with  him,  feem  to  me  per- 
fe(flly  unnatural,  [d]  Now  in  the  drama  the  contradled  period  of  the 
performance  will  not  fufFer  an  intereft  once  warmly  excited  ever  to  cool 
unlefs  from  very  ill  condudt  in  the  poet. 

I  would  not  be  fuppofed  to  cenfure  the  body  of  this  inimitable  com- 
pofition  on  any  other  ground  than  its  effedl  on  part  of  the  cataftrophe. 
Of  the  condudt  of  the  work  in  general  I  have  before  given  my  opinion 
in  the  ftrongeft  terms  of  approbation,  and  the  detail  is  in  itfelf  inte- 
refting  in  the  higheft  degree,  diredly  the  reverfe  of  Richardfon,  which 
is  often  trifling  and  tedious  in  the  extreme. 

In  Mrs.  Smith's  novel  of  Ethelinde,  though  the  time  of  the  abfence 
of  Montgomery  takes  up  but  a  ftiort  part  of  the  bulk  of  the  work,  it 
muft  occupy  at  leaft  as  much  of  the  poetical  time  as  all  the  other  inci- 
dents J  yet  as  the  detail  of  the  intervening  events  is  abridged,  (contrary 
indeed  to  the  uniformity  of  the  tale,  but  which  in  fuch  a  cafe  is  more 
honored  in  the  breach  than  the  obfervance,)  and  in  that  detail  the  paf- 

[d]  See  Note  iii.  Chap.  xxvi. 

fion 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  465 

lion  of  Ethelinde  for  Montgomery  is  a  prominent  feature,  our  intereft 
for  the  lovers,  as  fuch,  is  never  relaxed.  In  the  next  chapter  Arifbotle 
allows  a  deviation  from  the  rules  of  art  if  that  deviation  conduces  to  the 
jend  of  poetical  imitation ;  that  is,  if  it  makes  the  effed;  of  the  inci- 
dents more  ftriking.  Having  mentioned  Mrs.  Smith,  I  cannot  avoid  paying 
the  tribute  due  to  her  extraordinary  talents,  vi^hich  excel  in  two  fpecies  of 
xrompofition  fo  different  as  the  novel  and  the  fonnet,  and  whofe  powers 
are  fo  equally  capable  of  charming  the  imagination,  and  awakening  the 
paflions.  I  feel  a  ftrong  wifla  to  fee  both  thefe  exerted  in  the  highefl 
degree  in  one  work ;  and  that  (he  would  clothe  fome  pathetic  tale,  in  the 
jconception  of  which  fhe  could  not  be  excelled,  with  that  garb  of  luxu- 
riant fancy  and  melodious  verfification,  in  which  flie  cannot  be  equalled. 


;  NOTE     III. 

CHiEREMON. 

O  N  comparing  what  Ariftotle  fays  of  this  perfon,  and  his  mode  of 
imitation  here,  with  what  he  has  before  faid  of  them  in  the  [e]  iirll 
chapter,  I  think  we  muft  be  convinced  that  Ariftotle  approved  only  the 
regular  epopee  in  hexameter  verfe,  though  he  was  obliged  to  clafs  many 
anomalous  compofitions  under  that  head,  which  from  being  imitations 
of  human  aftions  and  charadlers,  partook  of  the  nature  of  poetry,  and 
from  being  narrative,  and  ufmg  language  only,  unaccompanied  by  mufic, 
could  not  fo  well  be  clafTed  under  any  other. 

[e]  Note  HI.  Chap.  i. 

3  O  Though 


466  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.xxiv. 

Though  Athenaeus  calls  the  Hippocentaur,  which  is  obvioufly  alluded 
to  in  both  places,  a  drama,  (^pa^a  ■srcXvi/.eTpov,)  I  muft  prefer  the  autho- 
rity of  Ariftotle.  From  what  he  fays,  and  the  manner  he  has  intro- 
duced it,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  its  being  a  narrative  poem.  It  is 
true  in  thofe  points  where  the  condudl  of  the  drama  and  the  epopee 
coincide,  he  takes  his  examples  promifcuoufly  from  either,  and  he  fre- 
quently illuftrates  an  epic  rule  from  Sophocles,  and  a  dramatic  one  from 
Homer.  But  both  thefe  paffages  relate  folely  to  the  epopee,  not  as  it 
refembles,  but  as  it  eflentially  differs  from  the  drama.  It  is  not  im- 
poffible  however  but  this  poem  might  be  a  dialogue,  though  not  in- 
tended for  reprefentation.  On  which  account,  though  Ariflotle  clafles 
it  with  the  epopee,  on  the  fame  principle  [f]  that  he  does  the  Socratic 
dialogues  and  the  mimes  of  Sophron  [g]  and  Xenarchus,  Athenaeus 
might  naturally  enough  call  it  a  drama. 

NOTE     IV. 

KO  LONG  COMPOSITION  HAS  BEEN  ATTEMPTED  IN  ANY  OTHER 
VERSE  EXCEPT  THE  HEROIC  :  NATURE  HERSELF  HAVING^ 
POINTED    THAT    OUT    AS    THE    MOST"    PROPER. 

THE  fame  obfervation  has  been  made  as  to  the  exclulTve  fitnefs  of 
iambic  [h]  verfe  for  the  drama,  and  both  have  been  ftridly  attended  to 

[f]  See  the  above  cited  note. 

[g]  The  fifteenth  Idyllium  of  Theocritus  is  fuppofed  to  be  taken  from  one  of  the  mimes 
of  Sophron.  See  Mr.  Twining's  fixth  note,  and  the  authority  he  cites.  Sec  alfo  VVarton's 
notes  on  that  Idyllium  in  his  edition  of  Theocritus. 

[h]  See  Note  iv.  Chap.  ir. 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  467. 

by  the  epic  and  tragic  writers  of  Greece  and  Rome.  Indeed  the  afler- 
tion  of  Ariftotle,  that  this  diftinftion  is  founded  on  nature  feems  per- 
fedlly  juft.  Iambic  verfe  would  have  been  too  colloquial  to  have  kept 
up  a  tone  fufficiently  elevated  for  the  epopee,  when  unafliflcd  by  the 
powers  of  reprefentation,  the  empafTioned  fentiments,  and  more  affedl- 
ing  incidents  of  the  drama  :  while  the  natural  elevation  of  heroic  verfe, 
according  to  the  concluding  fentence  of  this  chapter,  would  have  been 
too  fplendid  for  the  interefting  fcenes  of  tragedy.  As  for  any  of  the 
lyric  meafures,  though  adapted  to  the  mufical  parts  of  the  drama,  they 
would  have  been  ftill  lefs  fuited  to  the  dialogue  than  hexameter  verfe, 
from  their  being  ftill  more  remote  from  common  fpeech.  So  much  fo, 
from  the  violent  licenfe  taken  with  the  ufual  arrangement  of  the  words, 
and  the  confequent  difficulty  of  ready  conflrucftion,  as  to  want  the 
clearnefs  necefTary  even  for  epic  imitation. 

But  in  thofe  modern  languages,  in  which  the  drama  and  the  epopee 
have  been  chiefly  cultivated,  I  mean  the  Italian,  the  French,  and  the 
Enghfli,  no  criterion  of  this  fort  feems  to  have  been  unalterably  fettled: 
and  perhaps  the  fuppofed  propriety  of  one  fpecies  of  verfe  for  one  fpe- 
cies  of  compofition,  is  frequently  determined  more  by  cuftom  than 
nature.  Metailafio,  (See  his  Eftratto  della  Poetica,  page  343,)  aflerts 
the  fuperiority  of  the  ottava  rima  for  the  epopee.  And  is  fo  partial 
to  rhyme  in  general,  that  he  doubts  if  the  realbn  why  the  ancients  did 
not  ufe  it,  was  not  occafioned  by  the  fcarcity  of  fimilar  terminations  [i]  j 

and 

[i]  It  is  curious  that  a  direftly  contrary  reafon  is  given  by  Dr.  Beattle.  He  fays,  '  It  is 
*  true  the  Greeks  and  Romans  did  not  admit  in  their  poetry  thofe  fimilar  endings  of  lines 
'  which  we  call  rhyme.  The  reafon  probably  was,  that  in  the  claflical  tongues,  on  account 
'  of  their  regular  ftruflure,  like  terminations  were  fo  frequent,  that  it  required  more  dexte- 
'  rjty,  and  occafioned  a  more  pleafing  fufpenfe  to  the  ear  to  keep  them  fcoarate  than  to 

3  O  2  '  bring 


463  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxiv. 

and  if  the  invention  of  this  ornament  of  verfification  may  not  be  in- 
cluded among  thofe  improvements  in  fcience  which  modern  induftry  has 
added  to  the  acquirements  of  the  ancients,  fuch  as  the  telefcope,  the^ 
mariner's  compafs,  and  the  art  of  printing.  He  concludes  by  faying,, 
that  unrhymed  verfe  never  can  be  popular  in  Italy,  and  that  from  thia 
circumftanc2  nobody  reads  L'Italia  Liberata  of  Triffino,  or  Le 
Sette  Giornate  del  mondo  CREAToof  TalTo,  both  of  which  are 
written  invERsi  sciolti,  or  blank  verfe.  It  is  impoffible  for  a  foreigner 
to  judge  in  this  cafe  [k].  The  authority  of  a  poet  like  Metaftafio  is 
great ;  yet  when  we  refledt,  that  all  his  poetry  except  the  recitative  of 
his  dramas  is  in  rhyme,  and  remember  how  ready  people  are  to  con- 
demn what  they  do  not  like,  or  do  not  excel  in  themfelves,  we  muft 
admit  his  teftimony  with  fome  degree  of  doubt.  Perhaps  the  fubjefts 
may  be  ill  chofen,  or  particularly  ill  adapted  to  that  fpccies  of  verfe. 
The  title  of  Taflb's  work  gives  us  no  favourable  idea  of  it  as  a  poem  ; 
perhaps  the  poems  in  other  refped:s  were  faulty.  Johnfon  fays  he  could 
never  read  Thomfon's  Liberty,  becaufe  it  was  in  blank  verfe  ;  but  Johnfon. 
neither  liked  liberty  or  blank  verfe.  It  certainly  is  in  itfelf  a  very  heavy 
poem,  but  that  is  not  to  be  imputed  to  the  nature  of  the  blank  verfe 
even  of  Thomfon,  which  is  remarkable  for  being  cnflated,  and  of  diffi- 

*  briiig  them  together.     But  in  the  modern  languages  the  cafe  is  different.'     Essay  on- 
Laughter  and  ludicrous  Composition,  Chap.  ii.  p.  381. 

Notwithftanding  thefe  contradiftory  aflertions,  yet  in  point,  of  fad,  confidering  their  refpec- 
tive  languages,  they  may  both  be  in  the  right.  It  may  be  more  eafy  to  rhyme  in  Italian  than 
m  Greek  and  Latin,  and  perhaps  more  difficult  in  Englilh. 

[k]  We  all  feel  this  in  regard  to  modern  languages,  which  we  have  frequently  heard  per- 
fedtly  fpolcen,  and  yet  take  upon  us  to  decide  aboiu  thofe  which  have  been  dead  for  centuries, , 
as  if  wc  knew  them  by  inftinft.. 


cult 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  46^9 

cult  conftrudion ;  fince  there  are  few  poems  in  the  language  more  popular 
than  The  Seafons ;  and  even  Dr.  Johnfon  himfelf  does  not  wifli  that 
work  had  the  addition  of  rhyme. 

The  French  are  equally  partial  to  the  rhymed  alexandrine  for  the 
drama;  and  I  fliould  conceive  from  the  fame  reafon,  that  the  Italians 
prefer  the  rima  ottava  for  the  epopee, — cuftom.  But  where  cuftom 
does  not  authorize  it,  as  in  the  French  epopee,  a  fpecies  of  poetry  that 
will  not  only  bear,  but  abfolutely  requires  a  language  more  different 
from  common  fpeech  than  the  drama,  it  did  not  fucceed.  For  no  one 
I  believe  ever  read  the  Henriade  without  feeling  in  fome  meafure  the 
fame  fenfation  as  would  arife  from  reading  an  heroic  poem  in  [l]  Sap- 
phics. 

[^l]  There  is  more  monotony  in  Latin  Sapphics  than  in  any  fpecies  of  verfe  I  know. 
The  accents,  of  which  French  verfe  is  deftitute,  fall  exaftly  as  in  an  Englilh  heroic  verfe, 
beginning  with  an  accented  fyllable,  the  emphatic  accent  of  the  verfe  is  on  the  iirft  fyllable 
of  the  dadyl,  and  the  paufe  after  the  laft  fyllable  of  the  fpondee.     To  this  difpofition  of 
the  accent  we  muft  add  the  exa6t  rules  of  quantity,  which,  though  often  vitiated  by  our 
pronunciation,  muft  have  been  marked  by  that  of  the  Romans  ;  and  not  only  the  times  but 
the  number  of  fyllables  is  alTo  exactly  equal.     There  are  only  nine  lines  in  the  three  firft 
books  of  Horace  in  which  this  difpofition  of  the  accent  and  paufe  is  not  obfeived;  in  the 
fourth  there  are  twenty.     Dr.  Watts's  Sapphic  Ode  on  the  Day  of  Judgment  is  compofed  of 
complete  Englifli  dramatic  verfes  with  a  redundant  fyllable,  as  any  perfon  will  find  on  reading 
them  without  dwelling  too  ftrongly  either  on  the  emphatic  fyllable  or  the  paufe,  which  cha- 
raderize  the  Sapphic  cadence.     Read  thefe  lines  of  Shakefpear  as  I  have  marked  them,  and 
you  find  exadly  the  cadence  of  Dr.  Watts's  Sapphics. 

'  If  lufty  love  fhould — go  in  queft  of  beauty, 

'  Where  fliould  he  find  it  ?' 

The  Adonic,  as  to  its  accentual  cadence  only,  exadly  refembles  a  fragment  of  a  Sapphic, 
confifting  of  the  firft  five  fyllables.     See  Note  ii.  Chap.  xx. 

la 


470  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxiv. 

In  regard  to  Englifli  verfe  it  certainly  requires  great  caution  to  diftiii- 
guifh  between  natural  propriety  and  prejudice  arifing  from  cuftom.     As 
far  as  this  I  think  we  may  fay  with  confidence,  as  to  natural  propriety, 
that  the  loofer  kind  of  blank  verfe,  indulged  with  a  freer  difpofition  of 
accent,   (which  however  (hould  never  be  carried  fo  far  as  to  dellroy  the 
cadence  entirely  [m])  and  the  indulgence  of  one,  and  fometimes  even 
of  two[N]  redundant  fyllables,  is  befl  calculated  for  the  drama;  and 
thiit  the  ftanza  of  Spenfer,    the  elegiac  ftanza,  or  any  kind  of  lyric 
meafure,  is  unfit  for  the  epopee.     From  the  defcriptive  parts  of  the 
Paradife  Loft,  from  Thomfon's  Seafons,  and  Mafon's  EngliOi  Garden, 
we  may  fafely  fay,  that  heroic  blank  verfe  is  admirably  fitted  for  defcrip- 
tive poetry,  but  L'AUegro  and  II  Penferofo,  and  Grongar  Hill,  forbid 

[m]  As  accent  is  the  efficient  of  our  verfiflcatlon,  I  confuier  a  licenfe  of  this  kind  equi- 
valent to  the  making  a  falfe  quantity  in  ancient  verfe.  See  Chap.  xxii.  Note  [c]  on  the 
tranflation. 

[n]  This  licenfe  is  to  be  exercifed  with  moderation.     Thomfon  ufes  it  fometimes. 

'  Outrage  not  my  breaking  heart 

*  To  that  degree — I  cannot — 'tis  impoffible.* 

Tancred  and  Sigismunda. 

As  Rowe  alfo  does,  one  of  the  fmootheft  of  our  dramatic  poets. 

'  And  plead  till  death  the  caufe  of  injur'd  innocence.' 

Jane  Shore. 
Nay  even  Milton  has  afiumed  this  liberty  in  heroic  blank  verfe. 

'  For  folitude  fometimes  is  beft  fociety.' 

Paradise  Lost,  B.  ix.  v.  249. 

Perhaps  thefe  verfes  may  be  confidered  as  Alexandrines,  with  this  diftin£lion,  that  the 
rhymed  Alexandrine  feldom  ends  with  a  triflyllable,  and  the  dramatic  Alexandrine,  I  believe, 
never  with  a  monofyllable. 

US 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  4-1 

us  to  fay  it  is  exclulive.  Of  the  comparative  fitnefs  of  heroic  blank 
verfe,  and  rhymed  verfe  for  the  epopee,  I  iTiall  fpeak  prefently.  But  I 
will  firft  mention  fome  cafes  in  which  I  think  our  choice  of  particular 
meafures  for  particular  kinds  of  poetry  is  guided  by  other  principles  than 
the  nature  of  the  verfe  itfelf. 

In  Note  I.  on  Chap.  iv.  I  have  quoted  a  paffage  from  Mr.  Twining, 
in  which  he  obferves  how  much  the  power  of  muiic,  in  raifing  parti- 
cular emotions,  depends  on  the  temper  of  the  mind.  In  confequence 
of  which  notion  I  have  hazarded  fome  ideas  of  my  own  as  to  the  power 
of  combination  on  mufical  effedl.  Now  as  the  powers  of  verfe  [o], 
unconnedled  with  intelligent  language,  are  very  weak  indeed,  if  they 
exift  at  all,  and  the  power  of  mufic  in  the  fame  fituation  is  univerfally 
felt  and  acknowledged;  it  muft  follow  that  the  power  of  verfe  muft 
folely  depend  on  the  intelligent  words  it  is  connefted  with,  and  where 
no  caufe  obvioufly  natural,  (like  that  of  iambics  for  ancient,  and  the 
loofer  blank  verfe  for  modern  tragedy  from  their  colloquial  ftyle,)  can  be 

[o]  I  am  fpeaking  of  modern  verfe,  and  ancient  verfe  only  as  we  pronounce  it,  entirely 
neglefting  the  quantity.  There  is  a  curious  obfervation  of  Lord  Monboddo  on  this  head. 
'  It  is  neverthelefs  true,  that  notwithftanding  the  injuftice  we  do  Greek  and  Latin  poetry  in 

*  pronunciation,  it  ftill  pleafes  even  our  ear  more  than  aay  modern  poetry.     It  is  a  matter 

*  of  fome  curiofity  to  know  how  this  happens ;  and  I  believe  it  might  be  accounted  for 

*  otherwife  than  from  the  prejudice  that  fome  people  imagine  we  have  in  favour  of  the  anci- 

*  ents;  and  a  fyftem  of  ancient  profody  (I  ufe  the  word  in  the  common  acceptation)  might 
'  be  given,  according  to  vviiich  we  actually  read  their  poetry,  very  different  indeed  from  the 

*  [real]  ancient  profody,  but  more  agreeable  to  that  of  our  own  language.'  Origin  and 
Progress  OF  Language,  Part  ii.  Book  ii.  Chap.  vi.  page  335.  Perhaps  on  ftrift  exami- 
nation the  accentual  cadence  of  all  Latin  verfe  will  be  found  nearly  allied  to  fome  of  our  pwn 
meafures.     See  the  preceding  remarks  on  Sapphic  verfe. 

pointed 


.^y^2^  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxiv. 

pointed  out,  the  particular  propriety  of  one  fort  of  verfe  for  one  fort  of 
compofition,  very  often  depends  on  cuftom,  and  our  own  afTociation 
of  ideas,  which  on  hearing  a  particular  kind  of  verfe  naturally  recalls 
the  fubjedt  with  which  it  has  ufually  been  connedted.  Mr.  Twinino- 
obferves,   (Note  8)  that  we  fhould  be  much  furprized  '  on  opening  a 

*  didaftic  and  philofophic  poem  to  find  it  written  in  the  fame  meafure 
with 

"  Jolly  mortals  fill  your  glafles." 

We  certainly  fliould  from  never  having  ittn  fuch  an  attempt  j  but  if 
one  of  our  beft  and  earlieft  didadlic  poems  had  been  written  in  this  mea- 
fure, it  does  not  appear  why  it  might  not,  from  this  affociation,  have 
been  efteemed  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  fubjedl.  That  the  verfe  itfelf 
implies  no  levity  will  be  fufiiciently  obvious  when  we  open  the  II  Pen- 

r       r       c  TV/r-1.  j  j  iO  VJnOrtJiJr,   'JtlJI    '(f  '{\hj  ,   I 

lerolo  of  Milton,  and  read, 

*  Hail  thou  goddefs,  fage  and  holy, 

*  Hail  divineft  melancholy.' 

A  collation  of  this  poem  and  Hudibras  will  clearly  fliew  that  the 
fame  meafure  may  be  applied  to  the  moil  oppofite  fubjedls. 

Our  triple  meafures  alfo,  (which  thofe  who  are  fond  of  giving  ancient 
names  to  modern  things  may  if  they  pleafe  call  anapaeflics)  •  are,  (as 
[p]  Mr.  Mitford  obferves)  '  equally  and  peculiarly  fuited  to  the  expref- 

*  'fion  of  riotous  mirth  and  foft  melancholy.'  Of  this  every  mifcclla- 
neous  colledion  of  ballads  will  convince  us. 


[p]  Eflliy  on  Harmony  of  Language,  Se(St.  xi.  page  189. 

In 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  473 

In  regard  to  our  elegiac  verfe,  (whether  from  this  kind  of  prejudice 
or  not  I  will  not  prefuine  to  fiy,)  it  appears  fmgularly  fitted  for  its  fub- 
je6t ;  though  Dr.  Johnfon  obferves  it  is  difficult  to  fay  *  why  Hammond 

*  and  other  writers  have  thought  the  quatrain  of  ten  fyllablcs  elegiac* 
A  ftanza  *  that  has  been  pronounced  by  Dryden,  whofe  knowledge  of 

*  Englifli  metre  was  not  inconfiderable,  to  be  the  moft  magnificent  of 

*  all  the  meafures  which  our  language  affords.'  To  the  authority  of 
Dryden,  (whofe  ear  for  the  harmony  of  Englifh  verfification  demands  a 
bolder  panegyric  than  Dr-  Johnfon  has  here  given  it,)  I  bow  with  re- 
fpeft,  though  in  this  cafe  not  with  convidlion  ;  as  the  [q^]  only  poem 
in  that  meafure  written  by  Dryden,  which  fliould  confirm  this  aflertion, 
certainly  does  not.  And  as  for  Dr.  Johnfon  himfelf,  however  I  may 
admire  his  literary  character  in  general,  as  an  arbiter  in  poetical  matters, 
I  cannot  fubmit  implicitly  to  the  authority  of  the  critic  who  wrote  the 
lives  of  Gray  and  Milton. 

I  am  now  entering  on  a  part  of  my  fubjed:  where  I  mufl  proceed 
with  great  caution,  from  the  neceffity  of  miftrufting  our  own  judgment 
in  opinions  where  perhaps  we  may  miftake  prejudice  in  favour  of  a 
particular  hypothefis  for  conviftion  ;  efpecially  when  the  tide  of  popular 
opinion  is  ftrongly  againft  that  hypothefis.  I  mean  the  preference  of 
rhymed  or  unrhymed  heroic  verfe  for  the  Englifh  epopee.  Indeed  the 
prediledion  (I  will  not  venture  to  call  it  prejudice,)  in  favor  of  the 
latter  is  fo  ftrong,  that  many  of  the  moll:  refpedtable  critics  of  our 
country  have  boldly  pronounced  in  unqualified  terms,  that  rhymed  verfe 
is  totally  inadequate  to  the  purpofe  of  epic  compofition. 

[qJ]  Annvs  Mirabilis. 

3  P  Wc 


A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxiv. 


We  have  only  one  original  work  in  our  language  which  can  with  any 
propriety  be  claffed  with  the  regular  epopee.  A  work  of  fuch  tranfcen- 
dent  merit  that  hardly  any  general  rule  as  to  its  proper  material  can  be 
laid  down  from  the  example  of  a  poet,  whofe  genius  was  capable  of 
overcoming  every  difficulty  j  efpecially  when  we  fee  that  material 
employed  with  undoubted  excellence,  and  wonderful  effedl,  in  thofe 
offices,  where  it  has  univerfally  funk  under  in  every  other  hand,  we  are 
hardly  authorized  in  imputing  that  excellence  to  the  nature  of  the  mate- 
rial rather  than  to  the  fuperior  fkill  of  tlie  poet.  Milton  in  the 
fimpleft  parts  of  his  poem,  (the  opening  of  the  Paradife  Loft  is  an  admi- 
rable example,)  has  been  able  to  keep  up  the  dignity  of  blank  verfe 
without  inflation,  and  to  preferve  [r]  the  equal  tone  of  unorhamented 
narration  without  defcending  into  meannefs  of  ftyle,  which  certainly 
has  never  been  attempted  with  fuccefs  by  any  fucceeding  writer.  In 
moft  parts  of  the  defcriptive  poems  of  Thomfon  and  Mafon  we  Tee  in- 
deed original  verfe  and  propriety  of  ftyle,  but  in  every  attempt  at  heroic 
imitation,  Milton's  manner  has  been  fo  copied,  or  rather  caricatured, 
that  we  are  frequently  reminded  of  the  burlefque  poem  of  the  Splendid 
Shilling  rather  than  of  a  ierious  work  [s]. 

[r]  That  Milton's  ftyle  fometimes  rifes  into  turgidity,  and  fomctimes  finks  into  meannefs, 
cannot  be  denied  by  his  greatcft  admirers ;  but  to  maintain  an  unremitted  excellence  of 
verfiftcation  throughout  fo  long  a  poem,  was  perhaps  beyond  the  efFort  of  human  excellence. 
Befides,  when  Milton  introduced'  fcripture  language,  which  his  fubjeft  frequently  led  him  to 
do,  he  feems  to  have  been  defirous  of  keeping  not  only  tiie  words  but  even  the  arrangement 
of  them  as  clofely  as  poflible  to  our  profe  tranflation  of  the  Bible. 

[s]  This  mode  of  imitating  Milton's  manner,  (and  which  perhaps  we  can  hardly  blame, 
as  all  deviation  from  excellence  tends  to  corruption  of  flyle,)  is  followed  in  fome  degree  by 
moft  poets  who  ufe  blank  vcrfc,  for  whatever  kind  of  compofition.  But  the  author  of  Lewf- 
den  Hill  has  Ihewn,  that  the  fimpler  ftyle  of  Shakefpear's  dramatic  Pentameter  may  occa- 
fioially  be  transferred  to  the  heroic. 

To 


■Jit 


Note  ly.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  4^5 

To  draw  the  comparifon  between  the  fitnefs  of  rhymed  and  unrhymed 
verfe  for  the  epopee  with  accuracy,  is  abfolutely  impoffible  from  the  cir- 
cumftance  ah-eady  mentioned  of  our  having  but  one  regular  original  epic 
poem  in  our  language.  A  circumftance  we  furely  need  not  be  afhamed 
of,  fince  Greece  boafled  only  of  two,  and  Rome  could  not  pride  herfelf  on 
one,  for  to  originality  the  iEneid  has  no  pretence.  We  have  however  a 
copy  of  the  works  of  Homer  of  great  and  acknowledged  rri^rit  j  Lmean 
Pope's  Homer,  which  is  in  itfelf  one  of  the  moft  beautiful  poems  in 
any  language.  And  after  all,  what  is  the  great  confequettc^gof  it^  waht 
of  fidelity  to  the  original  [t].  The  beauties  of  Hom^r'afe  not  tranf- 
fufible  by  any  tranflation  ;  and  he  who  wifhes  to  fe^  all  and  only  all 
.  that  he  really  fays,  without  underftanding  Greek,  fhduld  lebnfult  a  literal 
urofe  verfion.     To  quote  the  words  of  a  much  celebrated  critic.     *  You 

*  may  tranflate  books  of  fcience'  exadlly.     You  may  tranflate  hiftory,  in 

*  fo  far  as  it  is  not  embellifhed  with  oratory,  which  is  poetical.     Poetry 

*  cannot  be  tranflated,  and  therefore  it  is  the  poets  that  preferve  lan- 

*  guage  :  for  we  would  not  be  at  the  trouble  to  learn  a  language  if  we 
'  cpuld  have  all  that  is  written  in  it  juft  as  well  in  a  tranflation.     But 

*  as  beauties  of  poetry  cannot  be  preferved  in  any  language  exxept  that 
'  in  which  it  was  originally  written,  we  learn  the  language.'  Boswell's 
Life  of  Johnson,  Vol.  ir.  p.  62.  In  the  fame  valuable  and  enter- 
taining work  is  the  following  dialogue.     *  I  mentioned  the  vulgar  faying 

*  that  Pope's  Homer  was  not  a  good  reprefentation  of  the  original. 
Johnson.  "  Sir,  it  is  the  greateft  work  of  the  kind  that  ever  was  pro- 
"  duced.  BoswELL.  The  truth  is  it  is  impoffible  perfedlly  to  tranflate 
"  poetry.  In  a  different  language  it  may  be  the  fame  tune,  but  it  has 
"  not  the  fame  note.     Homer  plays  on  a  baffoon.  Pope  on  a  flagekt. 


[t]  See  Note  i.  on  this  chapter. 

3  P  2  '*  Harris. 


4/6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxiv. 

'*  Harris.  I  think  heroic  poetry  is  beft  in  blank  verfe  :  yet  it  appears 
•'  that  rhyme  is  efiential  to  Englifh  poetry  from  our  deficiency  in  metri- 
*•  cal  quantities.  In  my  opinion,  the  chief  excellence  of  our  language 
"  is  numerous  profe[u]."     Ibid.  207. 

As  the  exclufive  propriety  of  rhymed  or  unrhymed  verfe  for  the  epopee 
has  been  often  argued  on  the  ground  of  the  unfitnefs  of  rhymed  verfe  for 
a  tranflation  of  Homer,  and  the  fuppofed  failure  of  Pope  on  that  account; 
and  as  we  now  poffefs  what  has  been  long  a  defideratum  in  literature,  a 
blank  verfe  tranflation  of  Homer  by  a  poet  of  allowed  merit,  I  fhall  con- 
fine my  remarks  on  this  fubjeft  to  an  enquiry  into  the  refpedtive  fitnefs 
of  rhyme  and  blank  verfe  for  a  tranflation  of  Homer.  In  this  I  fhall 
not  compare  particular  paflages  of  Mr.  Cowper  and  Pope,  or  draw  any 
invidious  comparifons  betweea  their  general  execution  of  the  work.  I 
fhall  only  endeavour  to  lliew,  why  I  think  the  inability  of  rhyme  to  ex- 
ecute a  faithful  tranflation  of  Homer,  as  far  as  any  poetical  tranflation 
can  be  faithful,  is  unfounded,  and  that  the  (fometimes  wanton)  deviations 
of  Pope  from  the  fenfe  and  fpirit  of  his  original,  did  not  proceed  from 
any  fault  in  the  fpecies  of  verfification  he  adopted.- 

As  Mr.  Cowper  in  the  preface  to  his  Homer  has  colled:ed  moft  of  tiie 
ohjedlions  to  rhymed  verfe  which  have  been  made,  and  which  certainly 
jyain  fuperior  weight  from  his  adoption  of  them  as  well  as  from  his  own 
additional  remarks,  I  fhall  attempt  to  anfwer  them  as  much  as  pofiible 
in  the  fame  order  in  which  they  are  there  infertcd. 

[u]  III  this  ftrangeand  contradiftory  opinion  of  Mr..Harris  we  trace  the  quaint  dccifion  of 
one  of  our  old  authors,  I  forget  which,  '  That  writers  in  verfe  were  the  beft  kind  of  writers 
»  next  to  the  writers  in  profe.' 

Mr. 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  477 

Mr.  Cowper's  firft  objeftion  to  rhyme  as  a  mode  of  tranflating  an  an- 
cient poet,  if  allowed,  precludes  all  farther  contefl  on  the  fubjed: 
effedually  ; — that  it  is  impoflible.    •  No  human  ingenuity,'  he  fays,  *  can 

*  be  equal  to  the  tafk  of  clofing  every  couplet  with  founds  homotonous, 

*  exprefling  at  the  fame  time  the  full  fenfe,  and  only  the  full  fenfe  of  the 

*  original.'  In  this  I  perfectly  agree  with  him  j  if  a  literal  tranflation  is 
meant  it  muft  be  in  literal  profe ;  and  where  Virgil  has  copied  Homer 
moil  nearly,  he  certainly  might  have  done  it  ftill  moM  nearly,  had  he 
rendered  the  original  word  for  word  j  but  there  is  a  fpirit  and  ftyle  to  be 
copied  as  well  as  the  exaft  words,  and  to  do  this,  fome  degree  of 
paraphrafe  is  oftentimes  neceffary  ;  and  the  real  fenfe  of  an  author,  efpe- 
cially  a  poet,  is  often  never  fo  much  mifreprefented  as  by  too  faithful  a 
tranflation.  However  in  this  free  tranflation  ■^hich  is  certainly  meant, 
I  cannot  conceive  Englhh  rhymed  verfe  would  have  more  difficulty  to 
encounter  than  Latin  Hexameters,  the  meafura  which  a  Roman 
tranflator  of  Homer  would  undoubtedly  have  chofen.  The  cefure,  the 
paufe  [w],  and  the  concluding  Adonic,  mark  the  boundary  of  the  verfe  as 
much  as  our  homotonous  endings,  and  I  fhould  fuppofe  were  to  thefultas 
great  a  reftraint  on  the  poet.  In  fhort,  if  the  only  advantage  blank  verfe 
has  over  rhymed  in  the  tranflation  of  an  ancient  poet  is  conveying  the  au- 
thor's meaning  more  clearly,  it  muft  imply,  what  Mr.  Cowper  is  far  from 


[w]  In  the  fmoother  Latin  poets,  with  very  {icw  exceptions  indeed,  the  paufe  falls  immedi- 
ately after  the  firft  fyllable  of  the  third  foot,  dividing  the  verfe  into  two  hemiftichs,  which,  is 
indeed  the  foundation  of  the  monkifh  rhymed  verfes.  Aulas  Gellius  fays  of  Varro,  L.  xvjii. 
Chap.  XV.  Scribit  obfervafle  fe  in  verfu  hexametro  quod  omnimodo  quintus  feinipes,  i.e. 
prior  pedis  tertii  fyllaba,  verbum  finiret.  We  muft  obferve  not  to  confound  the  metrical  paufe 
with  the  paufe  in  the  fenfe.  There  can  be  no  metrical  paufe  fo  ftrong  as  the.end  of  a  verle, 
where  the  fenfe  often  requires  none. 

allowinij. 


478  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxiv. 

allowing^,  that  blank,  verfe  is  of  more  eafy  compolition  than  rhymed,  and 
on  that  principle  profe  would  be  preferable  to  either. 

As  to  the  diftindllon  made  between  original  compofition  and  tranflation, 

the  fame  reafoning  holds.     The  poet  who  is  maftered  by  his  material, 

and  inflead  of  bending  his  rhyme  to  his  will  is  obhged  to  make  his 

thou<yhts  wait  on  his  rhyme,   is  indeed  maftered  by  what  he  ought  to 

command.     This  certainly  was  not  the  cafe  with  Pope,  he  knew[x] 

isrlJisn  21   ,mfibir        ,  ^         ,  . 

'  to  make  coy  rhyme 

«  Renounce  her  follies  and  with  fenfe  keep  time ; 

*  To  make  proud  fenfe  agalnft  her  nature  bend 

*  And  wear  the  chains  of  rhyme,  yet  call  her  friend.' 

Churchill. 

Mr.  Cowper  in  his  preface  alfo  fpeaks  in  favor  of  occafional  harfh  lines 
2S  producing  variety  in  a  long  work.  I  believe  fuch  beauties  are  not 
often  difcoverable  either  in  Homer  or  Virgil.  If  they  are  too  frequently 
found  in  [v]  Milton  they  are  the  lefs  excufable,  as  no  poet,  ancient  or 

modern, 

[x]  The  {hackles  of  rhyme  have  been  almoft  univerfally  pleaded  in  excufe  for  the  infide- 
lities in  Pope's  tranilation  of  Homer.  Will  it  be  faid  that  Pope  had  as  great  a  flcill  in  the 
Greek  language  as  he  had  a  command  over  rhymed  verfe  ?  Did  the  faults  pointed  out  in  the 
OdylTcy,  in  the  firfl:  note  on  this  chapter,  originate  from  the  fetters  of  rhyme  ?  Was  it  rhyme 
that  caufcd  him  to  omit  the  amiable  charafter  given  by  Helen  of  Priam,  in  the  tv/enty-fourth 
Iliad,  or  to  dilate  fo  much  beyond  the  original  the  beautiful  fimile  on  the  Trojan  fires  in  the 
eighth  ?  So  equal  do  I  efteem  rhymed  verfe  to  a  faithful  tranflation  of  Homer,  that  I  think 
it  would  be  no  very  arduous  taflc  for  a  good  verfifler,  well  fkilled  in  the  original,  to  render 
Pope's  Homer  as  faithful  a  copy  of  the  original  as  a  tranflation  can  poflibly  be. 

[  Y  ]  Perhaps  Milton  was  led  into  this  by  a  defire  of  imitating  the  bolder  licenfe  of  tlie  Italian 
poets,  as  we  are  told  by  Servius,  Virgil  once  adopted  the  Greek  accentuation  in  a  Latin  verfe. 

'  Caftorea 


Note  iv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  479 

modern,  ever  knew  fo  well  how  to  vary  his  cadence  and  produce  variety 
of  rhythm  in  verfes  equally  melodious.  There  is  a  deviation  from  the 
ufual  arrangement  of  the  accent  (in  which  blank  verfe  has  greatly  the 
fuperiority  over  rhyme)  which  has  often  the  fineft  effeft,  but  there  is 
fuch  a  deviation  alfo  as  is  deftrudive  of  the  effence  of  verification. 
Can  any  pleafure  arife  from  the  contrail  of  fuch  a  line  as  this  of  Milton? 


y  plealure  ariie  irom  tne  contrait  01  lucu  a  lu 
*  To  the  garden  of  blifs  thy  feat  prepar'd.' 


Which,  contrary  to  the  rule  given  to  Monf.  Jourdain,  is  neither  verfc 
nor  profe.  To  the  cadence  of  the  heroic  pentameter  it  has  no  pretence 
except  in  the  two  laft  feet ;  and  the  fix  firft  fyllables  form  a  verfe  con- 
fifting  of  two  feet,  triple  meafure,  exaftly  refembling  the  finale  of 
Midas, 

*  To  the  bright  god  of  day 

•  Let  us  fing,  dance  and  play.' 

<•  Mr.  Cowper  afterwards  obferves,  that  he  cannot  •  but  add  an  obferva- 
*  tion  on  the  fimilitude  between  the  manner  of  Milton  and  Homer,'  and 
this  he  exemplifies  in  thofe  breaks  and  paufes  in  which  the  Englifh  poet 
has  copied  the  Grecian.  Addifon  makes  the  fame  obfervation.  This  is 
not  a  queftion  of  opinion  but  of  fad:.  And  whoever  will  read  the  Iliad 
and  Odyffey  through,  attentive  to  this  particular  circumilance,  will  be.: 
convinced  that  the  break  in  the  middle  of  a  line  is  very  far  from  being  the 


'  Caftorea  Eliadum  palmas  Epiros  equarum.' 

On  this  Servius  remarks,  *  Epiros  is  here  a  Greek  word,  on  which  account  the  E  is  accented. 
t  For  if  it  had  been  in  the  Latin  form,  Epirus  or  Epiri,  the  accent  mull  have  fallen  on  pi 
'  becaufe  it  is  long.' 

charac- 


4^0  A  COMxMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.xxiv. 

charadleriftic  of  Homer's  flyle  [z]  j  and  where  a  line  is  broken  it  is  in  a  very 
different  manner  from  the  breaks  in  Milton.  In  Milton  we  fometimes 
fee  many  fuccefTive  verfes  without  the  fmallefl:  paufe  in  the  fenfe  at  their 
end  i  and  the  clofe  of  a  blank  verfe,  except  the  next  verfe  begins  with  a 
foot  whofe  fiifl  fyllable  is  accented,  can  be  no  otherwife  defined,  and 
often  runs  into  the  fuccceding  line,  [a]  But  in  Homer,  befides  the 
cefure  and  the  concluding  Adonic,  which  (according  to  our  mode  of 
reading  at  leaft,  by  Latin  accent)  marks  the  boundary  of  each  feparate 
yerfe  precifely,  I  believe  there  are  hardly  two  lines  together  without  a 
flight  paufe  marking  the  end  of  the  verfe,  in  both  his  poems :  a  circum- 
ftance  which  gives  a  general  cadence  more  refembling  Pope's  rhymed 
couplet  than  the  blank  verfe  of  Milton  [b].     The  break  in  thefe  lines 

[z]  More  inftances  occur  in  the  firfl:  hundred  lines  of  the  Iliad  than  in  any  other  part  of 
the  poem  of  three  times  the  length, 

[a]  By  this  defciS  the  divifions  of  lines  are  fomefimes  arbitrary  in  our  blank  verii:,  of  which 
Milton  affords  fcveral  examples,     Thefe  lines, 

'  WJiat  place  can  be  for  us 
'  Within  heav'n's  bound,  unlefs  heav'n's  Lord  fupreme 
'  We  over-power?     Suppofe  he  fhould  relent 
'  And  publifh  grace  to  all,  on  promife  made 
'  Of  riew  fubjedlion.'— -Paradise  Lost,  Baok  ii.  v.  255. 

I'his  may  as  well  be  written, 

»  What  place  can  be  for  us  within  heav'n's  bound, 

*  Unlefs  heav'n's  Lord  fupreme  we  over-power  ? 

*  Suppofe  he  IhoulJ  relent  and  publilh  grace 

'  To  all,  on  promife  made  of  new  fubjedion.' 

[bJ  Blank  verfe  is  capable  of  a  high  degree  of  melody  without  thefe  breaks,  as  will  appear 
from  the  example  of  two  of  our  dramatic  Poets.     Firft  in  Rowc's  Jane  Shore. 

'  O  that 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  481 

Avjap  ETTSiT  avJoTa-i  QiXog  ex^T'^^Ksg  s(pts]g, 
BxX\ , — diet  de  -srvpcei  veKvuv  Kmovjo  9x[/,eiut. 

refembles  more  a  break  in  a  rhymed  couplet  than  a  Miltonlc  verfe.  And 
if  Pope  did  not  imitate  it  exadly  it  was  his  own  negleft,  not  the  defici- 
ency of  his  material ;  for  in  his  Temple  of  Fame  he  has  a  couplet  exadly 
refembling  it. 

*  Amphion  there  the  loud  creating  lyre 

*  Struck,— and  behold  a  fudden  Thebes  afpire.' 

*  O  that  my  tongue  had  every  grace  of  fpeech, 
'  Great  and  commanding  as  the  breath  of  kings, 

*  Sweet  as  the  poet's  numbers,  and  prevailing 
'  As  foft  perfuafion  to  a  love-fick  maid ; 

*  That  I  had  art  and  eloquence  divine 

*  To  pay  my  duty  to  my  matter's  afhes, 

'  And  plead  till  death  the  caufe  of  injured  innocence.' 
And  in  Shakefpear's  King  John, 

*  If  lufty  love  fhould  go  in  queft  of  beauty, 

'  Where  fhould  he  find  it  fairer  than  in  Blanche  ? 
'  If  zealous  love  fliould  go  in  fearch  of  virtue, 
«  Where  fliould  he  find  it  purer  than  in  Blanche  ? 

*  If  love  ambitious  fought  a  match  of  honor, 

<  Whofe  veins  bound  richer  blood  than  Lady  Blanche's  ? 
'  Such  as  flie  is  in  beauty,  virtue,  birth, 

'  Such  is  the  Dauphin,  every  way  compleat; 

*  He  is  the  half-part  of  a  blefled  man 
'  Left  to  be  finiflied  by  fuch  a  flie ; 

'  And  fhe  a  fair  divided  excellence 

«  Whofe  fulnefs  of  perfedion  lies  in  him. 

<  O,  two  fuch  filver  currents  when  they  join, 
'  Do  glorify  the  banks  that  bound  them  in.' 

3  CL.  .  In 


482  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxiv. 

In  regard  to  the  comparative  difficulty  between  writing  good  rhymed  and 
good  blank  verfe,  I  fubmit  implicitly  to  the  author  of  the  Task. 
Whatever  the  difficulties  may  be  he  has  eiFedtually  furmounted  them  [c]  ; 
and  in  one  of  the  moft  entertaining  and  moft  original  poems  in  our  lan- 
guage, he  has  employed  blank  verfe  with  fuccefs  on  every  fubjedt,  to 
which  verfe  of  any  kind  could  properly  be  applied. 

After  all,  the  difficulties  he  points  out  in  blank  verfe  are  perhaps  ftill  more 
confpicuous  in  the  compofition  of  a  good  and  harmonious  ftyle  in  profe.  To 
invent  a  good  cadence  where  only  vague,  and  often  contradidtory  rules  are 
given,  is  more  difficult  .than  to  follow  known  rules  well.  However  eafy 
it  may  be  to  rhyme,  it  is  ftill  more  eafy  to  v/rite  blank  verfe,  that  is,  to 
put  ten  fyllables  in  a  line,  with  the  accent  falling  on  alternate  fyllables  ; 
and  might  not  a  profe  writer  fay,  and  with  juftice  too,  *  [d]  many  orna- 

*  ments  of  no  eafy  purchafe  are  required  to  atone  for  the  abfence  of  this 

*  fingle  recommendation,'     How  many  do  we  find  who  can  imitate  with 

f  c]  Dr.  Johnfoi^  is  of  the  fame  opinion  with  Mr.  Cowper  as  to  the  fuperior  difficulty  of  un- 
rhymed  to  rhymed  verfe.  '  In  blank  verfe  the  language  fufFercd  more  by  diftortion  to  keep  it 
'  out  of  profe,  than  any  inconvenience  or  limitation  to  be  apprehended  from  the  {hackles  and 
'  circumfcription  of  rhyme.'     Bosvv'ell's  Life  of  Johnson,  Vol.  i.  p.  342. 

If  this  obfervation  of  Mr.  Cowper  and  Dr.  Johnfon  isjuft,  it  entirely  confutes  the  firft  ob- 
jeftion  to  a  rhymed  tranJlation  of  Homer. 

[d]  Is  not  the  difference  between  profe  and  verfe  in  fome  meafure  illuftrated  by  the  follow- 
ino-  obfervation  of  Mr.  Gilpin  on  foreft  fcenery  ?  '  Though  every  animal  is  diftinguiflied 
'  from  its  fellow  by  fome  little  variation  of  color,  charafter,  or  fliape,  yet  in  all  the  larger  parts, 

*  in  the  body  and  limbs,  the  refemblance  is  generally  exaft.     In  trees  it  isjuft  the  revcrfe.     The 

'  fmaller  parts,  the  fpray,  the  leaves,  the  bloflbm,  and  the  feed,  are  the  fame  in  all  tiees  of  the 

'  fame  kind,  while  the  larger  parts,  from  which  the  moft  beautiful  varieties  refult,  are  wholly 

'  different.     You  never  fee  two  oaks  with  an  equal  number  of  limbs,  the  fame  kind  of  head,  or 

'  twifted  in  the  fame  form.     However,  .is  variety  is  not  alone  fufHcient  to  give  fuperiority  to  the 

»  tree,  we  give  the  preference  on  the  whole  to  animal  life.' 

tolerable 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  483 

tolerable  fuccefs  the  verfe  of  Milton  and  Pope ;  of  Homer  and  of  Virgil : 
but  who  has  ever  given  a  fliadow  of  a  refemblance  to  the  ftyle  of  Xeno- 
phon  or  Addifon?  Cicero  and  Dr.  Johnfon  are  ftrong  mannerifts  (I  do 
not  mean  to  compare  their  ftyles  in  any  other  light)  and  therefore  more 
eafily  caricatured. 

One  of  the  eflential  requifites  of  verfification,  as  is  well  obferved  by  a 
late  writer  [e],  arifes  from  a  judicious  mixture  of  uniformity  and  varietyj 
the  firft  arifing  from  the  eflential  rules  of  the  art,  the  other  from  the 
variation  of  paufe,  cadence,  &c.  The  favourers  of  rhyme  think  blank 
verfe  too  loofe  as  to  the  former ;  and  their  opponents  (among  whom  is 
the  gentleman  I  have  quoted,  and  who  carries  his  objection  to  [f]  hexa- 
meters alfo,)  think  rhymed  verfe  too  clofely  confined  by  the  former.. 

Mr.  Cowper,  as  well  as  Spence,  in  his  Eflay  on  Pope's  Odyfl!ey,  feem 
to  think  Pope  would  have  done  better  to  have  given  his  tranflation  in 
blank  verfe.  It  is  well  for  his  literary  charad:er  that  he  did  not  attempt 
it.  We  have  a  ftory  grounded  indeed  only  on  the  problematical  autho- 
rity of  Voltaire,  that  Pope,  on  being  afked  why  Milton  did  not  write  his 
Paradife  Loft  in  rhyme,  anfwered  '  Becaufe  he  could  not.'  The  anfwer 
would  have  come  with  more  propriety  from  him,  had  he  been  afked, 
why  he  did  not  tranflate  Homer  into  blank  verfe.  For  Pope  never  had 
tried  that  fpecies  of  compofition  ;  but  the  rhymed  verfe  alone  of  Milton 

[e]  Effay  on  Verfification,  in  the  firft  volume  of  EfTays  on  Subjeds  Philofophical  Hiftorical . 
and  Literary.- 

[f]  '  As  to  myfelf  I  acknowledge,  that  however  fuperior  the  hexameter  may  be  to  the  heroic 
*-  couplet,  in  other  refpeiSs  the  perpetual  recurrence  of  the  dadlyl  and  fpondee  is  more  fatiguing 
*-to  my  ear,  than  what  Dryden  calls  the  tinkle  in  the  clofe  of  the  couplet,'     Ibid. 

3  0^2  would 


484  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxiv. 

would  have  placed  him  very  high  among  the  Englifh  poets,  had  his  Pa- 
radife  Loft  never  appeared. 

To  conclude  this  fubjeft.  As  I  am  confcious  fo  many  great  names  are 
againft  me,  I  fhall  not  pretend  to  eftabli(h  my  own  opinion  by  any  general 
inference  drawn  from  what  I  have  faid  in  the  courfe  of  my  difcuflion  of  it, 
but  leave  it  to  make  what  impreffion  it  may  on  the  mind  of  the  reader. 
I  fliall  however  in  part  flielter  my  opinion  under  the  authority  of  two 
moft  refpedlable  critics.  Mr.  Addifon  in  the  Spedlator,  No.  285,  allows 
that  even  Milton  has  been  too  free  in  the  ufe  of  thofe  methods  which 
Ariftotle  has  prefcribed  for  the  elevation  of  ftyle,  and  which  he  imputes 
to  the  nature  of  his  vcrfe,  adding  that  *  where  verfe  is  not  built  upon 

*  rhymes,  there  pomp  of  found,  and  energy  of  expreflion,  are  indifpen- 

*  fibly  necelTary  to  fupport  the  ftyle  and  keep  it  from  falling  into  the 

*  flatnefs  of  profe.'     And  Dr.  Beattie,  in  his  Eflay  on  Laughter  and 
Ludici-ous  Compofition,  Chap.  11.  makes  this  obfervation.     *  One  end 

*  of  rhymes  in  modern  poetry  is  to  diftinguilh  it  more  effeftually  from 

*  pi-ofe :   the  Greeks   and  Romans  diftinguhhed  theirs  by  the  meafure 

*  and  by  the  compofition,  on  which  the  genius  of  their  languages  allowed 
'   them  to  beftow  innumerable  graces,   in  refpeil  of  arrangement,  har- 

*  mony,  and  variety,  whereof  the  beft  modern  tongues  from  the  irregu- 

*  larity  of  their  ftrufture,  and  particularly  from  their  want  of  inflexion, 

*  are  but  moderately  fufceptible  -,  and  therefore  of  rhyme,  as  a  mark  of 

*  diftindtion,  our  poetry  may  fometimes  ftand  in  need,  tliough  theirs 
'  did  not.     In  fadt  we  find  that  blank  verfe,  except  when  the  want  of 

*  rhyme  is  compenfated,  as  it  is  in  Milton  by  the  harmony  and  variety 

*  of  the  compofition,  can  never  have  a  good  eftedt  in  our  heroic  poetry.' 
I  confefs  I  think  our  rhymed  verfification  declining  fince  the  time  of 
Pope,  who  perhaps  carried  it  to  its  higheft  poflible  pitch  of  excellence; 

all 


Note  v.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  485 

all  deviation  from  which  muft  be  corruption.  This  is  the  cafe  with  all 
the  fine  arts  ;  and  Genius  itfelf  is  the  caufe  of  their  degenerating.  Great 
talents  will  not  condefcend  to  imitate;  and  in  deviating  from  perfedt 
models  they  deviate  alfo  from  perfection  itfelf,  on  which  account  the 
fine  arts  are  feldom  long  flationary ;  they  are  almoft  continually  either 
in  a  progrefTive  or  a  declining  flate.  Had  a  poet  of  fuperior  genius  to 
Virgil  lived  fubfequently  to  him,  he  would  certainly  not  have  been  con- 
tented to  copy  his  verfification  ;  in  which  cafe  if  he  could  not  excel  him, 
he  mull:  have  corrupted  the  flyle  of  Roman  poetry :  and  from  fuch 
attempts  it  was  at  laft  corrupted. 

There  appears  to  me  a  fliffnefs,  an  affedled  pompofity,  an  attempt  at 
fomething  not  perfectly  natural,  in  the  general  texture  of  the  rhymed  pen- 
tameter at  prefent. 

NOTE     V. 

THOUGH  WONDER  OUGHT  TO  BE  EXCITED  BY  TRAGEDY,  YET 
THINGS  CONTRARY  TO  REASON,  WHICH  EXCITE  WONDER  IN 
THE  HIGHEST  DEGREE,  ARE  BETTER  ADMITTED  IN  THE 
EPOPEE,  FROM  THE  ACTION  NOT  BEING  PLACED  BEFORE  THE 
EYES. 

HOW  much  tragedy  is  affedled  by  this  rule,  has  been  fliewn  in  the 
feventeenth  chapter,  from  the  unfuccefsful  drama  of  Carcinus.  The 
critic  here  fliews  how  far  the  epopee  may  venture  in  this  cafe  without 
incurring  the  fame  cenfure.  The  example  he  produces  is  the  flight  of 
Hedlor  and  the  purfuit  of  Achilles  in  the  Iliad,  which  may  be  tolerated 
in  the  epopee  though  not  in  the  drama. 

I  cannot 


486  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxiv. 

I  cannot  poflibly  conceive,  as  is  fuggefted  by  Mr.  Twining,  that  the  idea 
of  flopping  an  army  by  the  nod  of  a  head,  could  be  the  abfurdity  meant 
here,  as  being  more  apparent  in  the  reprefentation  than  the  re- 
cital ;  or  that  there  could  have  been  any  thing  more  abfurd  in  an  army 
flopping  at  a  nod  of  the  head  on  the  theatre,  than  by  the  fingle  word,  halt, 
in  Hyde  Park.  The  defeft  mentioned  by  Ariflotle  certainly  lay  deeper; 
for  he  in  the  next  chapter  mentions  this  identical  circvmiflance  as  a  ge- 
neral error  againft  probability,  excufable  only  as  it  renders  the  fcene  more 
interefling.  [gj  To  us  whoare  ufed  to  the  point  of  honor  in  military 
affairs  this  improbability  does  not  appear.  But  the  ancients  made  war 
on  a  different  plan.  Befides  from  the  fize  of  our  armies,  and  our 
mode  of  carrying  on  war,  one  man  can  be  of  little  confequence  in  the 
decilion  of  a  national  difpute  :  but  the  lofs  of  Hedlor  was  like  the  cap- 
ture of  a  fleet,  or  the  deftrudtion  of  an  army.     A  general,  or  an  admiral, 

[o]  The  author  of  the  Eflay  on  the  dramatic  Charafter  of  FalftafF  has  related  the  following 
curious  anecdote,  to  fhew  what  little  notion  the  American  favages  have  of  our  point  of  honor., 
'  In  the  laft  war,  (printed  1777)  fome, Indians  of  America  perceiving  a  line  of  Highlanders  to 

*  keep  their  ftation  under  every  difadvantage,  and  under  a  fire  which  they  could  not  effeiStuafly 
'  return,  conjectured,  from  obfervation  on  the  habit  and  ftability  of  thofe  troops,  that  they  were 

*  indeed  the  women  of  England  who  wanted  courage  to  run  away.'  The  Abbe  Terraflbn, 
with  the  true  prejudice  of  his  country-men,  who  can  fee  no  manners  natural  that  are  not 
French,  hypercriticizes  the  criticifm  of  Ariflotle,  '  who,'  he  fays,  '  being  always  confufed 

*  in  his  ideas,  cites  as  an  example  of  theabfurdly  marvellous,  thepurfuitof  Hettor  by  Achilles, 

*  who  made  figns  to  the  Greeks  not  to  throw  their  darts  at  the  Trojan  hero,.. that  he  might. 

*  have  the  fole  glory  of  killing  him ;  an  a£i-  very  fimple  and  very  natural.'  It  is  fmgular 
enough,  that  as  the  Greeks  were  no  favourites  with  the  feudal  writers  on  the  Trojan  war, 
they  have  actually  changed  this  very  fa£t ;  and  to  depreciate  the  warlike  character  of  Achilles, 
have  made  him  do  what  Ariftole  and  Plutarch  ccnfure  him  for  not  having  done.  See 
Shakefpear's  Troilus  and  Creflida,  and  Mr.  Stevens's  note,  mentioning  the  writers  from  whom 
the  flory  was  principally  taken. 

who 


Note  V.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  487 

who  were  to  hazard  the  national  pofterity  by  a  point  of  honor  (as  Admiral 
Vernon  is  faid  to  have  done  at  Porto-bello,  by  fending  away  a  fhip 
becaufe  he  had  faid,  in  the  Houfe  of  Commons,  he  would  take 
that  place  with  only  fix  fliips)  would  be  now  univerfally  cenfured; 
and  that  the  ancients  looked  on  this  aftion  of  Achilles  in  the  fame 
light  is  plain,  from  a  remark  on  it  in  Plutarch's  Life  of  Pompey,  where, 
fpeaking  of  a  ra(h  aftion  of  Pompey  in  affifting  the  Cretan  pirates  merely 
to  deprive  Metellus  of  a  triumph  j  he  compares  this  adlion  with  it,  which 
he  calls  rather  the  exploit  of  a  mad  boy  intoxicated  with  the  love  of 
fame,  than  of  a  brave  man.  But  (with  deference  to  the  opinion  of 
Plutarch)  it  does  not  appear  that  Achilles  was  aduated  by  the  love  of 
fame,  but  the  wifli  to  m.onopolize  the  revenge  of  his  friend's  death.  His 
feelings  refembled  thofe  of  Macduff  when  he  fays, 

*  If  thou  be'fl  flain  and  with  no  ftroke  of  mine, 

*  My  wife  and  children's  ghofts  will  haunt  me  ftill.' 

How  much  this  abfurdity  will  be  encreafed  by  the  reprefentation, 
appears  from  the  [h]  Regent,  where  the  atrocity  of  the  crimes  committed 
renders  Manuel  no  objedl  on  which  to  exercife  this  point  of  honor.  The 
impropriety  in  a  narration,  and  even  in  the  printed  play,  does  not  flrike 
us ;  but  when  we  fee  the  duke  and  the  ufurper  engaged  hand  to  hand 
before  the  ladies  of  the  court,  and  the  duke's  armed  friends,  we  are  at 
once  ftruck  with  it. 

There  is  an  inftance  of  forgetfulnefs  in  point  of  propriety,  in  the 
feventh  Iliad,  which  I  believe  has  efcaped  all  the  commentators,  but 

[h]  Note  I.  Chap,  xvii, 

which 


488  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.xxiv. 

which  in  a  drama  would  have  been  inftantly  difcovered.  Hedtor  chal- 
lenges one  of  the  Greek  chiefs  to  engage  in  fingle  combat  with  him,  in 
the  front  of  both  armies,  jufb  as  they  are  on  the  point  of  engaging.  (See 
verfe  61  of  the  original,  69  of  Pope.)  And  yet  though  the  fcene  con- 
tinues in  the  front  of  both  armies,  when  Menelaus  accepts  the  challenge, 
and  when  the  lot  falls  afterwards  on  Ajax,  they  are  both  reprefented  as 
arming  for  the  fight,  not  by  feizing  again  the  fword,  the  fpear,  and  the 
fhield  which  they  might  have  laid  afide,  but  by  dreffing  themfelves  in 
armour.     Menelaus  fays, 

,         [i]  *  My  corflet !  'gainfl  the  chief  myfelf  will  go, 

*  Heaven  as  it  lift  the  vidtory  beftow.' 

And  afterwards 

[k]  *  His  manly  limbs  in  fhining  arms  he  dreft.'      Pope,  v.  I20» 
And  of  Ajax  it  is  faid, 

[l]  *  Now  Ajax  brac'd  his  dazzling  armor  on, 

*  Sheath'd  in  bright  fteel  the  giant  warrior  fhone.' 

Pope,  v.  249. 

In  Goldfmith's  novel  of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  there  is  a 
ftriking  inftance  of  impropriety  arifing  from  negligence.  Sir  William 
Thornhill  the  lover  of  the  youngeft  daughter  of  Primrofe,  is  all  along 

[l  J   TwJi  J'  tyuv  auloj  Qupv^ofAai, 
As  Mr.  Pope  deviates  here  from  his  original,  I  am.  forced  to  deviate  from  him. 


[k]  Original  103. 
[l]  Original  245.. 


reprefented. 


Note  VI.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  489 

reprefented  as  in  the  vigour  of  youth  [m];  and  yet  he  muft  have  been  at 
leafl  old  enough  to  be  father  to  his  nephew,  who  cannot  be  fuppofed  the 
ion  of  an  elder  brother  as  the  title  and  family  eftate  belong  to  the  uncle. 


NOTE      VI. 

■WHOEVER     RELATES     ANY    FACT    IS    APT    TO    ADD    SOMETHING 
MARVELLOUS    TO    GRATIFY    THE    HEARERS. 

ARISTOTLE  exemplifies  here  the  pofition  he  has  laid  down,  as  to 
the  pleafure  that  arifes  from  the  marvellous,  by  a  circumilance  which 
we  need  no  ghofl;  to  tell  us,  is  often  given  to  tlieir  ftories  by  thofe  who 
profefs  to  relate  real  fafts.  And  this  not  only  by  limple  narrators  in 
common  converfation,  but  by  grave  hiftorians  who  relate  the  events  of  na- 
tions, and  make  ferious  and  political  refle<ftions  on  the  incidents  they 
record.  Of  this  Herodotus  has  been  accufed,  but  I  think,  not  with  fuf- 
ficient  juftice ;  or  if  he  has  been  a  little  too  [n]  attentive  in  liftening  to, 

and 

f m]  a  man  turned  of  forty  may  certainly  be  ftrong  and  vigorous  and  have  fuffered  little 
from  the  atucks  of  time :  but  a  man  of  that  age  is  not  very  likely,  in  real  life,  to  gain  the  af- 
fedlions  of  a  very  young  woman ;  and  in  fi£tion,  which  Should  copy  general  probability  and  not 
bare  poffibility,  a  man  old  enough  to  be  a  grandfather  fliould  not  be  made  a  fuccefsful  lover. 
In  many  of  our  comedies  an  impropriety  exaftly  oppofrte  to  this  occurs.  The  old  man  of  the 
piece,  who  is  generally  the  father  of  the  fine  gentleman  or  fine  lady  of  the  drama,  is  drawn 
perfedtly  decrepid  and  bent  down  by  all  the  infirmities  of  age,  more  like  the  great-grand- 
father than  the  father  of  a  youth  of  twenty-one  or  a  girl  of  eighteen. 

[n]  That  Herodotus  was  not  credulous  of  every  marvellous  ftory  he  heard  we  have  a  very 
curious  proof  in  his  fourth  book,  (Melpomene)  where  he  gives  an  account  of  the  circum- 
navigation of  Africa,  by  a  fleet  of  Phoenicians  fitted  out  by  order  of  Necus,  king  of  Egypt. 

3  R  Thefc 


49P  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.xxiv. 

and  too  lavllli  in  relating  fome  wonderful  tales  current  among  the  nations 
he  vilited  (for  a  man  could  not  in  his  time  become  acquainted  with  the 
hiftory  of  foreign  nations  by  reading  in  his  ftudy),  yet  his  impartiality 
in  relating  the  difgraces  of  his  own  country,  as  well  as  of  her  enemies, 
though  it  incurred  the  cenfure  of  the  partial  Plutarch,  might  I  think  have 
refcued  him  from  the  farcafm  of  the  Roman  poet,  the  earlier  hiftory  of 
vdiofe  country  contains  an  improbable  feries  of  almoft  continual  fuccefs, 
[o]  and  puts  one  in  mind  of  a  bragging  fchool-boy  who  can  beat  all  the 
reft  of  the  fchool  however  much  they  may  be  older  and  bigger  than 
himfelf.  The  fiift  check  that  Roman  egotifm  received,  was  from  a 
confcioufnefs  that  their  fables  would  be  deteded  by  a  communication 
with  the  hiftorians  of  this  '  Graecia  mendax,'  *  this  nation  of  lyars,'  and 
efpecially  Polybius  [p].. 


Thefe  men  affirmed,  that  as  they  failed  round  the  coaft  of  Africa  (from  the  Red  Sea  to  the- 
flraits  of  Gibraltar)  the  fun  was  on  their  right  hand,  i.  e.  to  the  north  of  them.  Now  we  know 
this  muft  have  been  the  faiS,  but  it  was- too  much  for  the  feith  of  Herodotus, who  fays  exprefsly 
'  this  is  incredible  to  me  whatever  it  may  be  to  others.'  This  palTage  is  particularly  worthy 
of  remark,  as  it  proves  that  the  Cajie  of  Good  Hope  had  been  doubled  at  a  very  early  period 
of  the  art  of  navigation. 

[oj  Shenftone  compares  the  Roman  hiftory  to  a  romance,  wdiere.  we  are  always  fo  fure  of 
finding  the  hero  of  the  piece  viftorious,  that  we  lofe  the  pleafure  arifing  from  expetlation. 

[p]  There  is  a  diflertation  in  Livy  on  what  would  have  been  the  event  had  Alexander  turned 
his  arms  againft  Rome.  In  his  time  the  Romans  had  never  looked  out  of  Italy.  When  Han- 
nibal invaded  Italy  they  had  engaged  with  foreign  armies  and  were  infinitely  more  powerful. 
But  had  Hannibal  been  an  independent  fovereign  with  the  refources  of  Alexander,  inflead  of 
the  general  of  a  commercial  and  jealous  republic,  in  all  human  probability  the  Roman  hiftory 
would  have  ended  with  the  fecond  Punic  war. . 

VoltaiiT 


N-oTE  VI.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  491 

Voltaire  in  his  Queflions  fur  1' Encyclopedic,  Art.  Hiftoire,  feems  to 
favor  this  partiality.  He  fays  that  the  famous  canon  laid  down  by  Cicero 
for  hiflorj'-,  *  Ne  quid  falfi  dicere  audeat,  ne  quid  veri  non  audeat,'  is  to 
be  underftood  with  fome  limitation,  and  afks,  Is  it  the  duty  of  the  hiftorian 
to  relate  fad:s  that  may  be  imparted  to  him  in  confidence  ?  Clearly 
not ;  for  it  certainly  is  the  firft  duty  of  an  hiftorian,  as  of  every  body  elfe, 
to  be  an  honeft  man.  But  here  Voltaire  treats  Cicero  as  he  has  treated 
Shakefpear ;  firft  mifreprefents  his  meaning,  and  then  argues  from  that 
mifreprefentation.    Hetranflates  the  precept  thus,  '  Que  I'Hiftorien  n'ofe 

*  dire  une  fauffete  ni  cacher  une  verite.'     *  That  the  hiftorian  fliould  not 

*  dare  to  fpeak  a  falfehood,  or  conceal  a  truth.'  But  this  is  by  no  means 
the  fenfe  of  the  original,  which  does  not  either  exprefs  or  imply,  that 
there  is  no  truth  however  foreign  to  public  events,  that  hiftory  lliould 
dare  to  conceal ;  but  that  there  Is  no  truth  it  fliould  not  dare  to  fpeak, 
which  can  relate  only  to  fuch  truths  which  it  is  the  province  of  hiftory 
to  relate.  Indeed  the  annalift  of  his  own  times,  who  alone  can  be  in  the 
fituation  fuppofed  by  Voltaire,  can  never  have  the  impartiality  requifite 
for  an  hiftorian.  Lucian,  in  his  Eftay  on  the  Manner  in  which  Hiftory 
fhould  be  written,  ftrongly  and  convincingly  infifts  on  this  impartiality. 

*  If  the  hiftorian  has  a  private  pique  againft  any  perfons,  it  is  the  more 

*  neceflary  for  him  to  efteem  himfelf  as  a  public  charafter  and  to  pay  more 

*  regard  to  truth  than  his  own  enmity.     And  if  he  has  a  particular  re- 

*  gard  for  any  perfons  on  the  fame  principle,  he  ftiould  not  conceal  their 

*  crimes.     There  is  in  fliort  only  one  thing,  as  I  have  faid,  peculiar  to 

*  hiftory,  and  to  which  alone  it  fliould  facrifice,  truth  [q^].' 

TE-Xtioi/a?  Tsoiyic-ila.i  t>?;  £j^Bp«f.  K'cJk  ipiA-/f  o'f.wj  iv.  c!.<pi^i\x,i  txjj.xplxs'n'log'  'EN  yxp,  w? 
ffrw  THTOj  i'lfio!/  'lrc/!i'«f,  x«i  //.m  Gi/lsov  THi  AAH0EIAi 

3  R  2  There 


492^  A  COMlVrENTARY  ON  THE'         Chap.  xxiv. 

There  is  another  kind  of  marvellous  in  which  the  hiftoriansare  apt  to 
imitate  the  poets.  They  will  fometimes  a  little  miftate  a  fadt  to  make  it 
more  interefling.  If  Macbeth  falls  in  the  fame  battle  in  which  MacdufF, 
who  has  fuffered  the  greateft  injuries  from  him,  happens  to  be  engaged oa 
the  oppofite  fide,  tlie  poet,  to  give  a  ftronger  effedt  to  the  incident,  makes 
him  die  by  his  hand;  and  fo  becaufe  Grylius  a  fon  of  Xenophon  fell  in 
the  fame  battle  with  Epaminondas,  Paufanius  has  made  the  latter  fall  by 
the  former,  though  neither  Xenophon,  who  concludes  his  hiftory  with 
an  account  of  that  battle,  nor  any  other  hiftorian,  mention  fuch  an> 
event  [r],.  . 

It  is  curious  to  trace  the  progrefs  of  the  marvellous  from  a  dark  to  an 
enlightened  age ;  and  to  obferve  how  a  love  for  it  will  prevail  in  fpite  of 
the  fewer  fources  which  a  more  minute  and  general  notion  of  caufe  and 
-effecft  leave  it.  Superflition,  with  all  its  attendant  train  of  witches, 
ghofts  and  fairies,  formerly  afforded  an  exhauillefs  fupply  of  this  kind  of 
entertainment.  And  even  at  this  time  a  tale  of  any  preternatural  appear*- 
ance  will  not  fail  to -fix  our  attention  ftrongly,  though  it  will  not  win  our 
belief;  and  even  the  beft  and  moft  popular  of  modern  [s]  writers  will 
fometimes  infert  fuch  narratives  in  their  works,  which  certainly  is  not 
done  with  the  intent,  nor  has  it  the  effedl,  of  difpleafing  their  readers. 
Natural  liiftory  feized  the  ground  that  fuperftition  was  forced  to  abandon, 
and  phyfical  fucceeded  to  metaphyseal  wonder.  The  various  properties 
of  matter,  the  natural  miracles  revealed  to  us  by  the  telefcope  and  the 
microfcope,  the  inveftigation  of  volcanoes  and  their  effefts,  the  wonder- 
ful operations  of  eledlricity,  and  the  fecrets  of  chymiftry  attradt  the  curio- 

[r]  I  am  furprlfed  that  Spelman  in  his  Life  of  Xenophon,  fhould  mention  this  as  an  indif- 
putable  faft. 

[s]  See  Obferver,  No.  71.  and  Andrews's  Anecdotes. 

fity 


Note  vi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  493 

iity  fo  ftrongly,  that  with  Jiow  and  then  a  little  [t]  touch  of  the  marvel- 
lous to  heighten  the  efFedl,  they  fupply  the  place  of  dreams,  omens  and 
apparitions. 

There  is  a  curious  obfervation  in  a  Tradl  of  Bifliop  Warburton,  en- 
titled [u]  An  Enquiry  into  the  causes  of  Prodigies  and  Mi- 
racles AS  related  by  historians,  which  is  fo  applicable  to  this 
fubjea;  that  I  fliall  infert  it. 

*  But,  not  to  be  over  fond  of  an  hypothefis,  I  fha'nt  fcruple  to  con- 
*'  fefs,  that  [v]  truth  may  in  fome  cafes  beget  admiration. 

[t]  Sometimes  however  the  marvellous  is  not  quite  fo  gentle  in  its  touches,  witnefs  Animal 
Magnetifm,  and  the  great  popularity  of  Lavater's  book.  In  fpite  of  the  moft  enlightened  phi- 
lofophy,  the  human  mind  has  a  ftrong  tendency  to  the  monkifh  rant, '  Credo  quod  impoflibile.' 

[u]  See  Trads  by  Warburton  and  a  Warburtonian,  page  87.  s 

[v]  The  fcienceof  aftronomy  ventures  fome  times  to  the  verge  of  the  marvellous  as  in  this 
extraft.  '  We  inhabit  a  planet  of  a  flratum  belonging  to  a  compound  nebula  of  the  third  form. 
•  "In  the  crowded  part  of  the  milky  way  I  have  had  fields  of  view  that  contained  no  lefs  than  588 
«  ftars,  and  thefe  were  continued  for  many  minutes,  fo  that  in  one  quarter  of  an  hour's  time  there 
'  pa/Ted  through  my  field  of  view,  no  fewer  than  1 16,000  ftars.  Among  the  great  number  of 
'  nebulae  which  I  have  already  feen,  amounting  to  more  than  900,  there  are  many  which  in  all 
'  probability  are  equally  extenfive  with  that  which  we  inhabit,  and  yet  they  are  all  feparated  from 
'  each  other  by  confiderable  intervals.  That  the  milky  way  is  a  moft  extenfive  ftratum  of  ftars 
<  ofvariousfizesadmitsnolongerof  the leaft  doubt;  that  our  sun  is  actually  one  of 

'    THE  HEAVENLY    BODIES    BELONGING    TO  IT,    IS   EVIDENT.'       HeRSCHEL.    Philof.   Tranf. 

Vol.  Ixxv.  for  1785,  quoted  in  a  note  on  No,  1 19,  of  the  oftavo  edition  of  the  Tatler,  1789. 
This,  in  fedt,  is  a  pofition  that  may  be  relatively  either  true  or  falfe.  To  thofe  parts  of  the 
univerfe  between  which  and  our  fun  the  milky  way  is  interpofed  it  feems  true,  to  every  other 
fituation  false. 

'   Firil 


494  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxiv. 

'  Firfl:  mathematical  truths,  efpecially  if  new-invented  theorems,  will 

*  raife  it  in  a  very  high  degree.  Witnefs  the  old  mathematician  who  hit 
'  upon  a  confiderable  difcovery  as  he  was  bathing ;  and  in  an  extafy  and 
'  tranfport  of  mind,  ran  home  naked  through   the  llreets.     But  how 

*  obfervable  is  it  here,  that  even  in  a  truth  it  is  its  feeming  conformity 

*  to  error  that  produces  this  admiration,  by  the  common  way  of  novelty 

*  and  furprize.' 


NOTE     VII. 

tiOMER    ALSO    WAS    THE    BEST    INSTRUCTOR     HOW    TO    INTRODUCE 
""'     'SPECIOUS    FALLACIES    BV    MEANS    OF    FALSE    REASONING. 

HOWEVER  invelloped  in  darknefs  this  paflage  is,  it  muft  I  ima- 
gine, have  fome  relation  with  that  in  the  fixteenth  chapter,  [w]  where  a 
difcovery  by  falfe  reafoning  is  mentioned.  I  think  the  meaning  of  this 
pafTage  receives  alfo  fome  elucidation  from  what  has  been  quoted  from 
Agatho  in  Chapter  xviii.  [x]  about  probable  improbability,  and  which 
is  again  mejitloned  here  in  a  fentence  which  almoft  immediately  fucceeds 
that  we  are  now  confidering.  But  Ariflotle  has  enlarged  flill  more  on 
this  in  his  Rhetoric,  L.  ii.  Ch.  xxiv. 

As  for  the  application  of  this  principle  of  falfe  reafoning  here  to 
poetic  fidlion,  Mr.  Twining's  note  gives  the  cleareft  folution  of  it,  and 
I  perfeftly  think  with  him,  that  it  relates  to  the  fkill  of  the  poet,  who 
when  he  forms  wonderful  and  uncommon  charatfters,  or  incidents,  makes 

[w]  See  Note  v.  Chap.  xvi. 

[x]  See  Note  vii.  on  that  chapter. 

their 


Note  vii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  49^ 

their  ad:ions  and  efFedls  feem  fo  clearly  the  natural  and  probable  confe- 
quences  of  them,  that  the  hearer,  finding  them  fo  confonant  with 
general  truth,  while  he  yields  to  the  delufion  of  the  tale,  [y]  can  per- 
ceive no  abfurdity  in  the  firft  fiditious  caule. 

This  conduit  of  the  poet  is  no  where  better  exemplified  than  in  the 
preternatural  beings  of  Shakefpear  [z]. 

I  do  not  any  where  remember  a  fabulous  and  marvellous  invention 
kept  up  in  all  its  relations  and  confequences  with  fuch  minute  and  atten^ 
tive  accuracy  as  in  Swift's  Voyages  to  Lilliput  and  Brobdignag.  The. 
relative  fize  of  the  inhabitants  being  once  mentioned,  the  comparative 
dimenfion  of  their  furniture,  plants,  animals,  &c.  is  adhered  to  with 
almoft  mathematical  precifion.  In  one  of  the  poems  prefixed  to 
Gulliver's  Travels,  entitled  the  Tears  of  Glumdatditch,  the  reader  may 
fee  this  confiftency  as  grofsly  violated,  where  in  two  lines  Gulliver,  who 
is  faid  a  little  before  to  be  of  ftature  fcarce  a  fpan,  hunts  a  mite,  fights 
a  nut  maggot,  and  carries  a  tea-cup  on  his  head  like  a  milk  pail. 

[y]  Of  this  pleafing  delufion  Plutarch  fpeaks  in  the  higheft  terms  in  his  Treatise  on  th£ 
Manner  in  which  young  Men  ought  to  read  the  Poets. 

"In  this  was  every  art  and  every  charm 
"  To  win  the  wifeft  and  the  coldeft  warm." 

Pope's  Iliad,  L.  xiv.  v.247;  original  216. 

*'  The  deceptions  of  this  art  cannot  affeil  the  ftupid  and  the  fooliih ;  and  therefore  Simonides 
';  being  afked  why  the  Theflahans  were  the  only  people  of  Greece  whom  he  could  not  deceive, 
'■  anfwered  becaufe  they  were  too  ignorant  to  be  deceived.  And  Gorgias  defined  tragedy  as  a 
•'  delufion,  wherein  the  perfon  who  deluded  was  jufter  than  thofe  who  did  not,  and  perfons  who 
*■  were  deluded  wifer  than  thofe  who  were  not.' 

fz]  See  Chap.  xv.  Notes  i  and  in,. 

As-, 


496  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxiv. 

As  I  conceive  this  to  be  what  Ariftotle  means  by  probable  impoilibi- 
lity,  fo  by  improbable  poffibility  I  imagine  he  defjgns  fuch  confequences 
as  may  indeed  very  pofiibly  follow  very  common  caufes,  yet  are  con- 
trary to  the  general  probability  required  in  poetry,  as  in  an  inftance  be- 
fore mentioned  from  the  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  [a].  It  is  neither 
phyfically  or  morally  impoffible  for  a  lover  who  has  jufl  refcued  his 
miftrefs  from  a  raviflier,  to  give  her  up  to  him  immediately  afterwards ; 
but  our  feelings  revolt  more  at  this  circumftance  than  at  all  the  ghofts, 
fairies,  and  witches  of  Shakefpear.  The  fcene  between  Williams  the 
foldier  and  Fluellin  in  Henry  V.  fhew  how  an  abfurd  caufe  may  be  con- 
cealed by  pleafant  and  natural  confequences.  FluelUn  fuppofes  Williams 
a  traitor  becaufe  he  challenges  by  a  blow  the  glove  the  king  told  him 
he  had  plucked  from  the  helmet  of  Alanfon.  But  I  do  not  recoiled: 
any  of  the  critics  have  remarked  that  this  hoftile  challenge  {hewed  him 
rather  an  enemy  than  a  friend.  May  not  this  be  partly  deemed  a  difco- 
very,  made  by  a  falfe  reafoning  of  the  fpedtators  [b]. 

NOTE      VIIL 

THE  LANGUAGE  OUGHT  PARTICULARLY  TO  BE  LABORED  IN  THOSE 
UNINTERESTING  PARTS  WHICH  ARE  DESTITUTE  OF  MANNERS 
AND    SENTIMENT. 

THE  difference  with  which  this  rule  muft  be  applied  to  the  epopee 
and  the  drama  has  been  noticed  before  [c].     By  laboring  the  language 

[a]  See  Note  v.  Chap.  xv.  [b]  See  Chap.  xvr. 

fc]  Note  VIII.  Chap.  XXII.  '  .    .^     , 

Ariftotle 


Note  VIII.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  497 

Ariftotle  does  not  recommend  the  inflation  of  it  by  turgid  exprefllons, 
bold  figures,  and  fludied  inverfion  of  phrafe,  but  the  ufe  of  a  ftyle  and 
verfification,  at  once  elevated,  fimple,  fmooth  and  melodious  [d]. 


[d]  For  fomejuft  obfervations  on  this  fubjeiSt,  particularly  as  to  tragedy,  fee  Bp.  Hurd's 
Note  on  ver.  94,  of  the  Epiftle  to  the  Pifos. 


3  S  CHAP. 


49«  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xxv. 


CHAP.      XXV. 

THE  mutilated  ftate  in  which  the  poetic  has  come  down  to  us,  is  no 
v/here  fo  evident  as  where  quotations  from  the  poets  occur,  which  is 
particularly  the  cafe  in  this  chapter.  Indeed  thefe  in  general  are  fo 
partially  and  inaccurately  cited,  that  they  appear  like  extradls  from  a 
common-place  book,  where  only  a  few  words  of  the  paffage  are  fet 
down  from  memory.  The  Abbe  TerraiTon  makes  a  very  juft  remark 
on  the  caufe  of  this  inaccuracy.  Speaking  of  an  erroneous  quotation  in 
Longinus,  he  adds,  '  Neither  is  this  the  firfl  citation  from  Homer  that 
«  the  ancients  have  made  erroneoufly ;  and  it  is  exaftly  becaufe  they 

*  almofl  knew  him  by  heart  that  they  were  more  fubjeft  to  cite  him 

*  unfaithfully.'  I  believe  few  modern  writers  truft  to  memory  for  their 
quotations,  even  from  the  authors  with  whom  they  are  the  moft 
familiar. 


NOTE     I. 

NEITHER    IS    THE   PROPRIETY  OF  POETRY  THE  SAME  WITH   THAf 
OF    THE    POLITICAL    OR    ANY    OTHER    ART. 

Aristotle  means,  that  in  other  arts,  fuch  as  the  theory  of 
government,  geography,  hiflory,  the  merit  of  their  profefibrs  mufl  folely 
depend  on  their  accurate  acquaintance  with  every  circumftance  at  all 
relative  to  the  fubjed:  on  which  they  write.  Now  this  is  by  no  means 
the  cafe  with  poetry,  which  only  requires  a  probable  imitation  of  human 

actions 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  499 

actions  and  manners.  Had  the  Winter's  Tale  of  Shakefpear  been  a 
hiftory,  or  a  treatife  on  geography,  it  would  have  been  effentially  de- 
feftive  from  his  fupppfing  Bohemia  to  be  a  maritime  country.  But  this 
has  not  the  fmalleft  effedl  on  the  intereft,  and  confequently  on  the  merit 
of  the  play.  Had  Shakefpear  chofen  a  mode  of  imitation  to  which  his 
powers  were  unequal,  (we  may  fuppofe  any  thing,)  and  confequently 
wi'itten  a  bad  play,  the  fliult  would  have  been  effential,  but  having  un- 
dertaken an  imitation  to  which  his  powers  were  perfedly  equal,  and 
which  therefore  he  executed  well,  no  fault  can  fall  on  the  play,  the 
adion,  manners  and  fentiments,  becaufe  the  poet  did  not  know  that 
Bohemia  was  an  inland  country.  For  it  is  not  the  office  of  the  poet  to 
inftrud:  his  hearers  in  particular  fubjedts  of  art,  but  to  awaken  his 
paffions  by  general  reprefentations  of  nature. 

The  author  of  the  Eflay  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful  makes  the  fol- 
lowing remark  on  this  fubjedt  in  his  introdudlion  to  that  elegant  work. 
'  Why  fhould  a  perfon  be  fhocked  at  a  Ihipwreck  on  the  coaft  of  Bohe- 

*  mia  who  does  not  know  but  that  Bohemia  may  be  an  ifland  in  the 

*  Atlantic  Ocean  ?  and  after  all,  what  reflexion  is  this  on  the  natural 

*  good  tafte  of  the  perfon  here  fuppofed..' 

It  is  true  however  that  at  prefent  fnch  an  error  would  condemn  the 
beft  play  that  could  be  poffibly  written.  For  there  are  fo  many  more 
perfons  now,  who  underftand  the  firfl  elements  of  geography  than  are 
capable  of  feeling,  or  judging  of  a  tragedy.  Befides,  it  is  impoffible 
that  a  poet  of  the  prefent  day  could  have  that  general  knowledge  of 
human  events,  and  propriety  of  conduit,  fit  to  enable  him  to  imitate 
human  adlions  and  manners,  and  be  fo  grofsly  ignorant  as  this  muft  fliew 
bim  to  be.     The  miftake  of  Shakefpear  is  a  proof  of  the  general  igno- 

3  S  2  ranee. 


500 


A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE 


Chap.  xxv. 


ranee  of  liis  age.     Were  a  poet  now  to  make  fuch  an  error,  it  would  be 
correded  in  the  rehearfal,  even  by  the  fcene-ihifters. 


A  miftake  of  the  fame  kind,  as  the  illuflration  from  the  hind  by 
Ariftotle,  occurs  in  the  Ode  on  Spring,  by  Mr.  Warton,  one  of  the 
moft  beautiful  and  original  defcriptive  poems  in  our  language,  and  which 
ftrongly  (hews  the  force  of  poetical  imitation  in  [a]  rendering  objects 
that  have  no  beauty  in  themfelves  highly  beautiful  in  defcription.  I 
fuppofe  there  are  few  fcenes  lefs  pleafing  and  pifturefque  in  themfelves 
than  the  view  from  Catherine  Hill  near  Winchefter,  over  the  bare  ad- 
jacent downs,  and  on  the  Itchin  at  its  feet,  formed  into  a  navigable 
canal,  and  creeping  through  a  wide  valley  of  flat-water  meadow,  inter- 
fered often  at  right  angles  by  flrait  narrow  water  courfes.  But  hear  the 
poet,  and  obferve  how  the  fcene  appears  in  the  pidlure  he  has  given  Qf 
it  without  changing  the  features  of  the  original. 


O'er  the  broad  downs,  a  novel  race, 
Frifk  the  lambs  with  faltering  pace. 
And  with  eager  bleatings  fill 
The  fofs  that  fkirts  the  beacon'd  hill. 
His  free  born  vigor  yet  unbroke 
To  lordly  man's  ufurping  yoke. 
The  bounding  colt  forgets  to  play, 
Baflcing  beneath  the  noontide  ray. 
And  ftretch'd  upon  the  daifics  pied 
Of  a  green  dingle's  floping  fide.; 


[a]  See  Note  i.  Chap.  iv. 


•  While 


Note  I.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOtLE.  501 

'  While  far  beneath  where  nature  fpreads 

*  Her  boundlefs  length  of  level  meads, 
'  In  loofe  luxuriance  taught  to  flray 

*  A  thoufand  tumbling  rills  inlay 

'  With  filver  veins  the  vale,  or  pafs 

*  Redundant  through  the  fparkling  grafs.' 

Befides  the  general  beauty  of  the  defcription  it  muft  have  a  particular 
one  in  the  eyes  of  every  Wykhamift  as  recalling  the  idea  of  the  days  of 
early  youth,  the  joys  of  which  are  ftrongly  imprefied  on  the  memory, 
while  the  hours  of  fchool  reftraint,  which  fometimes  confidered  going 
to  hills  even  as  a  tafk,  are  but  faintly  traced. 

But  to  return  to  the  objeft  of  the  note.  What  hypercritic  would 
cenfure  thefe  lines : 

*  Scarce  a  bee  with  airy  wing 

*  Murmurs  the  blolTom'd  boughs  around, 

*  That  cloath  the  garden's  southern  mound.' 

Becaufe  the  fouth  wall  of  a  garden  is  its  northern  bound  ? 

An  impropriety  is  often  found  in  the  works  of  the  earlier  engravers 
from  copying  diredly  from  the  drawing,  which  occafions  the  figures  of 
the  impreffion  to  be  reverfed,  and  the  fword  to  be  in  the  warrior's  left 
hand,  and  the  fhield  on  his  right.  This  is  never  difcovered  without 
being  purpofely  looked  for. 

As  Ariflotle  obferves  however,  that  fuch  errors,  however  trifling  they 
may  be,  are  ftill  errors,  and  as  fuch  ought  to  be  avoided  if  poffible  :  we 
may  juftly  cenfure  the  arrogance  of  thefe  writers,  who  founding  their 

pretenfion;i 


502  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxv. 

pretenfions  to  fame  on  higher  excellencies,  wantonly,  and  fometimes 
wilfully,  affedl  to  be  negligent  and  even  ignorant  of  flighter  things. 
This  fpecies  of  felf  importance  will  often  obtrude  itfelf  into  the  conver- 
fation  of  thofe  perfons  who  think  too  highly  of  their  own  merit,  where 
to  the  difcerning  it  has  an  effeft  direftly  the  reverfe  of  that  which  is  pro- 
pofed[B].  It  is  neverthelefs  fometimes  a  defedl  attending  real  merit.  I 
knew  a  gentleman  high,  and  defervedly  fo,  in  literary  reputation,  who  had 
this  foible  in  a  great  degree.  He  thought  it  fliewed  fuperior  attention  to 
things  of  extraordinary  confequence  to  pay  none  to  common  occurrences. 
He  lived  near  London  ;  and  a  friend  happening  in  the  fpring  to  afk  him  the 
ftate  of  vegetation  in  the  country,  he  anfwered  him,  that  he  was  too 
much  employed  in  other  objects  to  give  any  attention  to  things  of  that 
nature.  His  friend,  a  little  piqued  at  fuch  an  abfurd  affedlation  of  con- 
fequence, replied,   '  I  am  furprized.  Sir,  at  that,  fince  Solomon,  who 

*  had  fome  reputation  for  wifdom  in  his  day,  could  fpeak  of  plants  from 

*  the  cedar  of  Libanus  to  the  hyffop  that  grew  on  the  wall.' 

That  agreeable  and  honefl  egotift  Montaigne  fpeaks  of  his  own  igno- 
rance and  want  of  dexterity  in  many  of  the  common  offices  of  life ;  but 
fo  farf  rom  priding  himfelf  on  it  he  prefaces  his  account  with  the  fol- 
lowing remark.     '  But  great  minds  are  univerfal  minds ;  open,  and  pre- 

*  pared  for  every  thing,    and   if  not  adlually  informed,    immediately 

*  capable  of  receiving  information.     Montaiqne's  Essays,  L.  ii.. 
Ch.  XVII.  ON  Presumption. 

[b]  '  The  true,  ftrong,  and  found  mind,  is  the  mind  that  can  equally  embrace  great  things 
'  and  fmall.  Now  I  am  told  the  king  of  Pruffia  will  fay  to  a  fervant,  "  Bring  me  a  bottle 
"  of  fuch  a  wine,  which  came  in  fuch  a  year ;  it  lies  in  fuch  a  corner  of  the  cellar." 
Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  Vol.  ii.  p.  254. 

Exadly. 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  503 

Exadly  correfpondent  with  this  was  the  judgment  palled  by  a  country 
clergyman  on  a  late  nobleman  in  high  eflimation  both  in  the  literary 

and  the  political  world.    *  My  lord '  he  faid,  *  is  not  a  great  man  :  he- 

*  does  not  know  wheat  from  barley.' 


NOTE     II. 

LIKE    SOPHOCLES    WHO    SAID   HE  DREW  HIS   CHARACTERS  AS  THEY 
OUGHT    TO    BE,    AND    EURIPIDES    AS    THEY    REALLY    WERE. 

BISHOP  HURD,  in  a  note  on  verfe  317  of  Horace's  Epiftle  to 
the  Pifos,  has  given  a  fenfe  to  this  paffage  different  from  its  ufual  accep- 
tation, and  which  I  had  inferted  in  the  firft  edition  of  my  tranflation. 
But  I  think  Mr.  Twining  has  clearly  confuted  this  opinion  as  to  the 
particular  [c]  application  of  it  here.  But  of  this  I  {hall  leave  the  reader 
to  judge  for  himfelf,  by  laying  the  reafoning  of  both  before  him. 

The  bifliop  of  Worcefter,  after  citing  this  fentence  of  Ariftotle  pro- 
ceeds.    *  The  meaning  of  this  is,   Sophocles  from  his  more  extended 

*  commerce  with  mankind  had  enlarged  and  widened  the  narrow  partial 

*  conception  arifing  from  the  contemplation  of  particular  charadlers,  into 

*  a  complete  comprehenfion  of  the  kind.     Whereas   the  philofophic 

*  Euripides,  having  been  moftly  converfant  in   the  academy,  when  he 

*  came  to  look  into   life,  keeping  his  eye  too  intent   on  fingle  really 
■•  exifting  perfonages,  funk  the  kind  in  the  individual,  and  fo  painted  his 

[c]  For  the  particular  purpofe  of  the  bifhop's  note,  which  is  to  difcriminate  between 
general  and  particular  charadlers,  as  objefts  of  the  drama,  *and  efpeciall)'  of  comedy,  nothing 
can  be  more  accurate  and  conclufive  than  the  reafoning. 

*   char^.ders. 


S04  A  COMMENTARY  ON"  THE        Chap.  xxv. 

*  charadlers,  naturally  indeed  and  truly  with  regard  to  the  objefts  in 

*  view,  but  fometimes  without  that  general  and  univerfally  ftriking  like- 

*  nefs  which  is  demanded  to  the  full  exhibition  of  poetical  truth.' 

To  this  Mr.  Twining  anfwers.     *  According  to  this  interpretation, 

*  which  I  am  taking  the  liberty  to  examine,  Sophocles  is  made  to  an- 

*  fwer  the  charge  [d]  by  denying  its  truth  :  for  the  anfwer  as  here  flated 

*  v/ill  be  this.     You  fay  my  repi'efentations  are  not  true,  and  thofe  of 

*  Euripides  are  true.     I  deny  this.     You  life  the  term  improperly.     My 

*  reprefentations  are  "  agreeable  to  truth"  becaufe  they  are  "  colledled 
"  from  wide  obfervation,  from  human  nature  at  large ;"  thofe  of  Euri- 

*  pides  are  not  agreeable  to  truth  becaufe  they  are  reprefentations  not  of 

*  the  kind  but  of  individuals.  The  anfwer,  as  I  underftand  Ariftotle, 
'  is  very  different.     The  charge  is  not  denied,  or  explained  away,  but 

*  admitted  and  juflified.  Sophocles  fays,  "  If  you  would  have  men 
"  reprefented  as.  they  are,  Imutrt,  you  muft  go  to  Euripides.  I  have 
"  not  drawn  them  fo.  I  never  intended  to  draw  them  fo  ;  I  have  done 
"  better.  I  have  delineated  mankind  not  fuch  as  they  really  are,  but 
"  fuch  as  they  ought  to  be."  Euripides  does  not  appear  to  have  beeq 
'  charged  by  thofe  objeilors.  with  what  may  be  tei-med,  individual  im- 
'  propriety  of  imitation,  but  with  too  clofe  and  portrait-like  delineation 
'  of  general  nature.  In  fliort,  the  difference  which  I  underftand  to  be 
'  here  intended  between  the  two  poets  cannot  be  better  expreifed  than 

*  it  is  by  the  ingenious  commentator  himfclf  in  the  beginning  of  the 

*  note  to  which  I  refer,  where  it  is  obferved,  (page  253)  that  "  truth 
"  may  followed  too  clofely  in  works  of  imitation,  as  is  evident  in  two 
*■'  refpedts.     For,   i.  the  artift,  when  he  would  give  a  copy  of  nature, 

[d]  For  not  dcfcribing  things  according  to  truth.. 

**  may 


Note  n.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  505 

"  may  confine  himfelf  too  fcrupuloufly  to  the  exhibition  of  particulars, 
"  and  fo  fail  of  reprefenting  the  idea  of  the  kind.  Or,  2.  in  applying 
"  himfelf  to  give  the  general  idea,  he  may  colled:  it  from  an  enlarged 
"  view  of  real  life,  whereas  it  were  flill  better  taken  from  the  nobler 
**  conception  of  it  as  fubfifting  only  in  the  mind."     Now  if  we  apply 

*  the  latter  of  thefe  differences  to  the  two  poets  in  queilion,  if  we  fay 
"  In  applying  himfelf  to  give  the  general  idea,  Euripides  coUeded  it 
"  from  an  enlarged  view  of  real  life,  whereas  Sophocles  took  it  from 
*'  the  nobler  conception  of  it  as  fubfifting  only  in  the  mind ;"  •  this 
'  will  exprefs  exadtly  what  I  take  to  be  the  fenfe  of  Ariftotle.  To  the 
'  fupport  which  the  common  interpretation  of  this  paflage  receives  from 

*  Ariftotle  himfelf,  may  be  added  that  which  it  receives,  and  I  beheve 

*  is  generally  acknowledged  to  receive,  from   the  tragedies  themfelves, 

*  which  are  extant  of  the  two  poets  in  queftion.     That  Euripides  is  in 

*  general  liable  to  the  cenfure  of  particular  imitation  of  "  fmking  the 
"  kind  in  the  individual,"   I  cannot  fay  I  have  obferved.      But  who  can 

*  read  this  poet  without  obferving  the  examples  with  which  he  every 
'  where  abounds  of  that  very  "  geneical  and  univerfally  ftriking  like- 
*'  nefs  which  is  demanded  to  the  full  exhibition  of  poetical  truth."     In 

*  Sophocles  we  find  more  elevation,  more  dignity,  more  of  that  im- 

*  proved  likenefs  and  ideal  perfedlion  which  the  philofopher  exprefles 

*  by  his  cix  ^6i — TTpog  to  QeXriov.  In  Euripides  we  find  more  of  the  aXijSej, 
'  the  'ofjLoiov.  We  are  oftener  reminded  of  the  common  nature  and 
'  common  life,   which  we  fee  all  around  us.     And  it  this   with  other 

*  caufes  be  fometimes  found  to  lower  the  imitations  of  this  poet  beneath 

*  the  proper  level  of  tragic  dignity,   and  to  produce  fomething  of  the 

*  xcofzci^icc  Tig  5j9<jXoya|Wen7,  which  Longinus  attributes  to  the  Odyfley,  the 
'  fault  is  amply  redeemed,  perhaps  in  thofe  very  parts  by  the  pleafure 
'  which  refults  from  the  clofenefs  and  obvioufnefs  of  the  imitation, 

•?  T  *  certainly 


5o6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxv. 

*  certainly  in  many  others  by  thofe  precious  touches  of  nature  which 
V,  muft  at  once  ftrike  every  individual  of  every  audience ;  fuch  as  if  I 

*  miftake   not   are  much    more  rarely  to  be  found  in  Sophocles,  and 

*  fuch  perhaps,  after  all  we  have  heard  about  the   beau  ideal  and 

*  improved  nature,  can  only  be  produced  by  an  exad  tranfcript  of  nature 

*  as  it  is,  of  what  the  poet  has  actually  felt  himfelf,  and  adiually  feen  in 

*  others.' 

This  reafoning  appears  to  me  unanfwerable. 

That  for  the  purpofes  of  the  drama  at  leaft,  if  not  for  every  fpecies 
of  poetry  which  profelTes  to  imitate  human  aftions  -,  a  comprehenfive 
view  of  real  chara<3:er  is  much  fuperior  to  this  image  of  perfedlion  in 
the  mind,  is  to  me  evident  beyond  a  doubt,  and  feems  founded  on  the 
fuperiority  of  truth,  to  unnatural  ficflion,  exemplified  in  fuch  charaders 
as  Tom  Jones  and  Amelia,  when  contrafted  with  Grandifon  and  Clariffa. 
It  muft  be  remembered  alfo,  though  it  does  not  feem  to  have  occurred 
to  the  bifliop,  that  Ariftotle  is  not  drawing  a  parallel  between  the  two 
tragic  poets  here,  neither  does  he  here  or  elfewhere  give  any  fhew  of 
preferring  Sophocles  to  Euripides,  but  rather  the  contrary ;  for  he  has 
in  another  place  allowed  Euripides  the  merit  of  attaining  the  end  of  tra- 
gedy more  effe<3:ually  than  [e]  any  other  poet.  A  compliment  of  no 
common  magnitude,  as  it  is  on  the  fame  principle  that  in  the  next 
chapter  he  finally  determines  the  fuperiority  of  tragedy  over  the  epopee. 
Befides  in  this  chapter,  Ariftotle  is  not  pointing  out  beauties,  but 
Ihev/ing  how  faults  may  be  palliated. 

[^e]  Chap.  XIII.     TfayiKUTxroi  twv  a-onTw*. 

It 


Note  hi.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  50^ 

It  is  impoffible  for  the  Englifli  reader  to  go  through  Mr.  Twining'^ 
note  without  feeing  how  applicable  the  parallel  between  the  two  Greek 
tragic  poets  is  to  the  father  of  the  Britifli  drama  and  our  other  beft 
tragic  writers,  as  alfo  the  French  dramatic  poets.  Subftitute  Shakefpear 
for  Euripides,  and  Thomfon  or  Voltaire  for  Sophocles,  and  the  criticifm 
will  be  equally  juft. 


'  N  O  T  E     III.  ' 

J[F  IT  DOES  NOT  COME  UNDER  EITHER  OF  THESE  DESCRIPTIONS 
HE  MAY  SAY  IT  IS  ACCORDING  TO  RECEIVED  OPINION,  AS 
IN    WHAT    RELATES    TO    THE    GODS, 

o3bno6i  am 

IF  the  objedlion  to  the  poet  is,  that  he  has  not  drawn  his  charadters 
conformable  with  truth,  and  he  can  neither  fhew  that  they  are  according 
to  truth,  or  that  the  deviation  from  truth  is  occafioned  by  a  defire  to 
reprefent  charaders  above  the  level  of  human  nature,  he  may  yet  excufe 
himfelf  by  faying,  that  he  has  followed  models,  which,  though  they 
may  neither  have  an  archetype  in  nature,  or  be  better  than  perhaps  they 
really  are,  neverthelefs  have  the  fanftion  of  popular  opinion  for  their 
credibility.  This  feems  to  have  been  exa^flly  the  cafe  with  Homer's 
gods;  and  the  popularity  of  Shakefpear's  fupernatural  beings  refts  on  the 
fame  ground  even  at  this  day,  when  the  belief  of  them  is  nearly  anni- 
hilated. How  entirely  has  Shakefpear  availed  himfelf  of  a  vulgar  fuper- 
ftition  in  his  Ghofl  of  Hamlet  which  firfl  appears,  *  ■  the  bell  then 
«  beating  one,'  and  which  vani(hes  at  the  crowing  of  the  cock.  And 
with  what  propriety,  according  to  the  fabulous  creed  of  his  age,  and 
vvhich  is  flill  orthodox  in  the  regions  of  fidtion,  has  he  diflinguiHied  the 

3  T  2  fiiries 


5o8  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.xxv. 

fairies  from  the  more  gloomy  tenants  of  the  invifible  world  in  thefe 


beautiful  lines. 


-51C 


*  Night's  fwift  dragons  cut  the  clouds  full  faft, 

*  And  yonder  fhines  Aurora's  harbinger, 

*  At  whofe  approach  ghofts  wandering  here  and  there 

*  Troop  home  to  church  yards. — Damned  fpirits  all 
'  That  in  crofs  ways  and  floods  have  burial, 

*  Already  to  their  wormy  beds  are  gone.' 

*  But  we  are  fpirits  of  another  fort : 

*  I  with  the  morning's  love  have  oft  made  fport,. 

*  And  like  a  foreiler  the  groves  may  tread 

*  Even  till  the  eaftern  gate  all  fiery  red, 

'  Opening  on  Neptune  with  fair  bleffed  beams, 

*  Turns  into  yellow  gold  his  fait  green  flreams,' 


N  O  T  E     IV. 

OR    PERHAPS    IT    MAY    BE  SAID   THAT   THE  FACT  WAS  ACTUALLY 

so    AT    THAT    TIME. 

IF  the  poet  has  fo  managed  as  to  reprefent  the  cuftoms  of  the  time 
in  which  the  adlion  of  his  poem  is  fuppofed  to  have  paffed,  however 
contrary  they  may  be  to  thofe  of  his  own  age,  £b  far  from  needing  an 
excufe  it  will  itfelf  be  ftrong  proof  of  merit.  In  this  the  excellence  of 
Homer,  as  a  juft  imitator  of  the  manners  of  the  age  he  wrote  on,  is 
fliewn  by  a  particular  inftance.     [f]  In  his  own  time  the  art  of  horfe- 

[f]  See  Pope's  Effay  on  Homer's  battles. 

manfhip 


Note  IV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  509 

manfliip  was  arrived  at  a  pitch  of  perfedlion  capable  of  rivalling  the 
exploits  of  Hughes  and  Aftley.  But  though  in  his  fifteenth  Iliad, 
V.  679,  (v.  822  of  Pope's  tranflation)  when  he  fpeaks  in  his  own  perfon 
he  does  not  fcruple  to  compare  Ajax  leaping  from  deck  to  deck  of  the 
Grecian  veffels  to  a  fkilful  horfeman,  who  manages  [g]  four  horfes  at  a 
time,  leaping  occafionally  from  the  back  of  one  to  the  other ;  yet  in 
defcribing  the  different  evolutions  of  the  field  he  never  puts  his  warriors 
on  horfeback,  but  always  reprefents  them  as  fighting  from  chariots. 
But  the  excufe  which  Ariftotle  means  to  make  is  from  the  poet's  repre- 
fenting  things  as  they  were  at  the  time  while  he  was  writing,  which,  as 
far  as  they  differ  only  from  the  time  of  the  criticifm,  is  allowable ;  but 
if  they  differ  from  the  pradlice  of  the  time  concerning  which  the  poet 
is  writing,  they  are  excufable  only  on  the  fame  principle  with  the 
objedions  mentioned  in  the  firft  note  on  this  chapter.  Virgil  has  been 
guilty  of  this  fault  in  the  very  circumftance  juft  mentioned  of  the  horfe- 
manfhip  of  Homer's  heroes.  For  Afcanius  is  reprefented  as  an  expert 
horfeman  foon  after  he  is  at  Carthage. 

Our  Shakefpear  is  too  often  guilty  of  this  feult,  and  is  apt  to  make 
the  cuftoms  of  all  ages  and  countries  congenial  with  thofe  of  his  own. 

[g]  Pope  has  entirely  deftroyed  the  difficulty  of  this  manceuvre  by  faying  they  were 
*  Four  fair  courfers  praflifed  to  obey.* 

Here  is  an  inftance,  it  is  true,  of  the  fenfe  and  fpirit  of  the  original  facrificed  to  rhyme ; 
but  could  not  Pope  have  done  better  when  a  very  inferior  rhymift  might  have  written, 

<  So  when  fome  man,  the  courfer  fkill'd  to  rein, 

'  Four  fteeds  felefling  from  a  num'rous  train, 

*  To  the  full  city  from  th'  extended  mead, 

*  Impels  their  flight,  and  urges  on  their  fpeed,' 

Whea 


5IO  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxv. 

When  however  he  only  incurs  the  cenfure  made  by  hypercriticifm,  and 
tQ  which  the  candor  of  Ariftotle  here  furniflies  an  anfwer,  he  affords 
fometimes  entertainment  and  fometimes  difficulty  to  the  antiquarian. 
We  learn  that  in  the  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth  rooms  of  ftate  were 
ftrewed  with  ruflies,  and  we  hear  with  furprize,  that  the  [h]  dagger 
was  ufcd  for  breaking  heads,  as  we  now  fpeak  of  a  cudgel. 

How  abfurd  will  the  equeftrian  expedition  of  Sophia  and  her  maid 
appevir  to  future  readers,  w-ho  {hall  not  know  that  in  the  year  1745 
poft  chaifes,  which  became  very  foon  after  fo  univerfal,  were  hardly 
ifatallufed.  I  do  not  exadtly  know  when  two-wheeled  chaifes  (now 
entirely  laid  afide)  were  partially  introduced  from  France,  but  I  very 
well  remember  the  firft  four-wheel  chaife  that  run  poft,  introduced  by 
March  of  Maidenhead-bridge,  at  leaft  eight  years  fmce  the  era  of  Tom 
Jones. 

There  is  a  paflage  in  the  Spedlator  that  may  probably  puzzle  our 
pofterity,  who  will  hear  fo  much  of  the  exclufive  merit  of  Englifti  gar- 
dening and  its  comparative  excellence  and  diftinguifhing  charadler  when 
^ppofed  to  the  fame  art  among  our  neighbours,  from  the  writers  of  the 
prelent  day. 

*  We  have  before  obferved,  that  there  is  generally  in  nature  fomething 
'  move  grand  and  auguft  than  what  we  meet  with  in  the  curiofities  of 
*  art.     When  therefore  we  fee  this  imitated  in  any  meafure  it  gives  us  a 

[h]  The  old  Englifti  dagger  muft  have  fomething  refembled  a  ftick  with  a  tuck  at  the 
end  of  it,  as  in  Grofu's  account  of  ancient  armour,  one  of  the  ufes  afcribed  to  it  in  mili- 
tary fervice  is  to  be  ftuck  in  the  ground  for  the  purpofc  of  faflening  a  horfe  to  it. 

*  nobler 


NoTEv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.    V  511 

'  nobler  and  more  exalted  kind  of  pleafure  than  what  we  receive  from 

'  the  nicer  and  more  accurate  productions  of  art :  on  this  account  our 

*  Englifh  gardens  are  not  fo  entertaining  to  the  fancy  as  thofe  in  France 
'  and  Italy,  where  we  fee  a  large  extent  of  ground  covered  over  with  an 

*  agreeable  mixture  of  garden  and  foreft,   which  reprefent  every  where 

*  an  artificial  rudcnefs,  much  more  charming  than  that  neatnefs  and  ele- 

*  gancy  which  we  meet  with  in  thofe  of  our  own  country. 

*  Our  Britiili  gardeners  inflead  of  humouring  nature  love  to  deviate 
'  from  it  as  much  as  poffible.     Our  trees  rife  in  cones,  globes  and  pyra- 

*  mids.     We  fee  the  marks  of  the  fciffars  upon  every  plant  and  bufli.' 
Spectator,  No.  414,  by  Addison. 

Pope's  Epiftle  to  Lord  Burlington  will  appear  equally  furprizing. 


NOTE     V. 

IN  EXAMINING  WHETHER  A  THING  IS  EITHER  SAID  OR  DONE 
PROPERLY  OR  IMPROPERLY,  WE  ARE  NOT  ONLY  TO  REGARD 
WHETHER  THE  THING  ITSELF  IS  GOOD  OR  BAD;  BUT  WE 
MUST   CONSIDER    THE   CHARACTER   OF    THE   ACTOR   OR   SPEAKER, 

IF  it  is  necelTary  for  the  poet  to  introduce  vicious  perfons,  it  is  alfo 
neceffary  for  him  to  make  them  fpeak  and  adl  in  charadler,  and  no  blame 
can  be  incurred  from  this  if  the  character  is  fo  marked,  and  the  expreffions 
fo  introduced,  as  to  lliew  they  are  not  the  real  opinion  of  the  poet  [i]. 

[i]  See  Note  iv.  Chap.  xii. 

Dr. 


512  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxv. 

Dr.  Beattie,  who  cenfures  a  fault  of  this  kind  in  Cowley,  and  another 
in  Dryden's  tranflation  of  Virgil,  makes  this  judicious  diflindion.     *  But 

*  if  inftrudlion    may   be   drawn  from    the    fpeeches   and   behaviour  of 

*  Milton's  devils,  of  Shakefpeare's  Macbeth,  and  of  Virgil's  Mezentius, 

*  Why  is  Cowley  blamed  for  a  phrafe  which  at  worft  implies  only  a 

*  flight  fally  of  momentary  pride  [k]  ?     I  anfwer,  that  to  fpeak  ferioudy 

*  the  language  of  intemperate  pallion  is  one  thing,  to  imitate  or  defcribe 

*  it  another.  By  the  former,  one  can  never  merit  praife  or  efteem  -,  by 
'  the  latter,  one  may  merit  much  praife  and  do  much  good.  In  the  one 
'  cafe  we  recommend  intemperate  paflions  by  our  example,  in  the  other 

*  we  may  render  them  odious  by  difplaying  their  abfurdity  and  confe- 

*  quences.  To  the  greater  part  of  his  readers  an  author  cannot  convey 
'  either  pleafure  or  inflrudlion  by  delivering  fentiments  as  his  own,  which 
'  contradidl  the  general  confcience  of  mankind.'  Essay  on  Poetrv 
AND  Music,   Part  i.  Chap.  i. 

If  impious  and  immoral  fentiments  are  put  into  the  mouth  of  a  virtu- 
ous charadter,  the  fame  fault  is  incurred  perhaps  rather  in  a  higher  degree. 
Since  what  a  man  fays  or  even  writes  himfelf  may  be  fuppofed  to  pro- 
ceed from  paflion ;  but  fentiments  that  he  makes  a  good  man  pronounce 
he  will  be  imagined  to  approve  from  principle.  In  the  Tatler,  No.  122, 
by  Addifon,  the  circumftance  is  mentioned  of  Socrates  quitting  the 
theatre  when  a  tragedy  of  Euripides  was  pei-forming,  on  account  of  the 
following  line  being  fpoken  by  Hippolytus, 

[kJ  The  following  are  the  exceptionable  lines  of  Cowley  that  are  alluded  to. 

<  What  {hall  I  do  to  be  for  ever  known, 

'  And  make  the  age  to  come  my  own  ? 

'  I  Ihall  like  beafts  or  common  people  die, 

'  Unlefs  you  write  my  elegy.' 

*  My 


NoTEV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  5,; 

[l]  *  My  tongue  has  fworn  indeed,  but  not  my  heart.' 

On  which  the  following  remark  is  made :  '  Had  a  perfon  of  a  vicious 

*  charadter  made  fuch  a  fpeech,  it  might  have  been  allowed  as  a  proper 

*  reprefentation  of  the  bafenefs  of  his  thoughts  ;  but  fuch  an  expreflion 

*  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  virtuous  Hippolytus  was  giving  a  fandtion  to 

*  falfliood,  and  eftablifhing  perjury  by  a  maxim. 

But  a  fentence  grofsly  impious,  by  whomfoever  fpoken,  will  fo  far 
affedl  the  feelings  of  an  audience  in  any  country,  where  religion  is  at  all 
held  in  veneration,  that  they  will  inflantly  be  fliocked.  Plutarch  men- 
tions a  circumftance  of  this  kind  in  his  Dialogue  on  Love.     *  You  have 

*  certainly  heard  with  what  tumult  [m]  Euripides  was  received  when  he 

*  opened  his  tragedy  of  [n]  Menalippe  in  this  manner: 

[o]  "  I  know  not  Jove,  or  know  him  for  my  foe." 

*  And  other  daring  expreflions.     On  which  account,  when  he  wrote 

*  out  and  corredled  the  piece,  he  changed  the  verfe  in  the  manner  it 

*  now  {lands. 

fl.l    H  yXac(r   l^j-uiAoy^^  ■»  St  (ppriv  duuifj.oTOi, 

[m]  An  anecdote  fomething  fimilar  is  told  of  ^fchylas.     See  Note  iv.  Chap.  xii. 

[n]  The  fpeech  of  this  lady  is  in  Chap.  xv.  mentioned  by  Ariftotle  as  an  inflance  of  im- 
propriety of  manners.  The  ftory  of  the  drama  is  very  fingular :  flie  has  children  by  Neptune, 
whom  her  father  taking  for  the  unnatural  produce  of  his  cows  is  going  to  deftroy.  ,  On 
which  Menalippe  makes  a  long  fpeech  to  fhew  him  that,  on  the  principles  of  philofophy, 
they  may  be  their  natural  offspring,  and  which  Dionyfius  of  Halycarnaflus  fays  Euripides 
introduced  on  purpofe  to  fhew  his  knowledge  in  the  philofophical  tenets  of  Anaxagoras. 

[o]  This  verfe  is  ftrangely  mutilated  in  the  original.  I  have  followed  the  reading  pro- 
pofed  by  Xylander  in  his  note  on  the  paffage. 

3  U  '*  What's 


514  A  COMxMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxv. 

[p]  "  What's  truly  faid  of  Jove,  and  who  he  is, 
*'  I  only  know  from  fame." 

In  the  Alzire  of  Voltaire,  Zamor  fays  to  Alzire  : 

'  Periffent  tes  fermens  &c  le  Dieu  qui  J'abhorre." 

The  fhocking  blafphemy  of  this  verfe,  when  we  confider  of  whom 
it  is  fpoken,  whatever  may  be  the  fituation  of  the  fpeaker  no  Englifli 
audience  would  tolerate  3   Hill  in  bis  tranflation  has  accordingly  omitted 


NOTE      VL 


THE    WORD    MAY    BE    FOREIGN. 


WE  have  already  taken  notice  of  the  impoffibility  of  giving  modern 
examples  in  ferious  compofition  of  this  property  of  language,  which 
confifled  in  transferring  a  word  from  one  Grecian  dialed  to  another. 
We  may  however  illuflrate  in  fome  degree  this  objedlion  and  its  anfwer 
from  what  might  happen  in  common  difcourfe.  We  will  fuppofe  a 
perfon  to  fay,  '  I  would  rather  want  my  dinner  than  have  it.'  This  is 
objedled  to  as  a  contradidtion.  But  the  objcdlor  is  anfwered,  '  The 
•  fpeaker  is  a  Scotfman,  and  to  want,  in  the  Scottifli  dialedt,  fignifies  fimply 
'  to  be  without,  and  conveys  no  idea  of  wifliing  to  poflefs,  as  it  does  in 
'  Englifli.' 

[p]  This  is  fomething  like  the  doflrine  of  Xenophanes,  mentioned  in  this  chapter. 
[q,]  For  farther  obfervations  on  this  fubjeft,  fee  Note  xvi.  on  this  chapter. 

The 


Note  vii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  515 

The  examples  In  the  text  are  fufficiently  clear;  elpecially  that  of 
Dolon.  Had  he  been  deformed  in  body  he  could  not  have  poflibly  been 
£0  aftive  as  he  is  reprefented.  The  fame  obje^ion  may  be  made  to  the 
deformity  of  Richard  in.  as  he  is  defcrlbed  by  Shakefpear  and  the 
hiftorians  friendly  to  the  houfe  of  Tudor;  and  goes  far  to  juftify  the 
hiftoric  doubts  of  Walpole  and  [r]  Buck.  A  modern  general  may 
command  an  army,  however  deficient  in  bodily  ftrength  and  adlivity, 
provided  he  has  good  health.  And  an  admiral  may  command  a  fleet  in 
an  armed  chair  on  the  quarter  deck  ;  but  a  warrior  with  a  withered 
arm  and  a  diftorted  body,  was  ill  calculated  to  turn  the  tide  of  battle  in 
the  wars  between  the  houfes  of  York  and  Lancafler ;  or  to  make  the 
perfonal  exertions  Richard  is  faid  to  have  made  in  Bofworth- field. 


NOTE    VII. 

THE    EXPRESSIONS    MAY    BE    CONSIDERED    AS    METAPHORICAL. 

HERE  alfo  the  examples  in  the  original  are  exa(5tly  equivalent  with 
what  we  continually  meet  in  our  own  language.  We  fay,  *  a  thoufand,' 
•  a  million,'  for  any  indeterminate  large  number.  The  fame  of  time  : 
'  all  day,'  *  a  year,'  '  an  age.' 

[r]  An  hiftorian  who  wrote  in  the  reign  of  James  i.  and  who  ftrongly  combats  the  opinion 
i)f  Richard's  deformity. 


3  U  2  ^         NOTE 


5i6  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxv. 


NOTE     VIIL 

SOMETIMES    THE    OBJECTION    MAY   BE  ANSWERED  BY  ATTENDING 

TO    THE    ACCENT. 

THE  knCc  of  a  word  is  feldom  materially  changed  by  the  accent  in 
Enwlilh  [s].  Subftantives  and  verbs  are  fometimes  fo  dillinguiflied,  as 
*  converfe,'  and  '  to  converfe  /  *  convert,'  and  '  to  convert.'  Yet  fome 
words  .-re  entirely  changed  in  fignification  by  the  accent,  as  *  gallant,, 
and  *  gallant ;'  *  piquet,'  the  game,  and  the  *  piquet,'  of  an  encamped 
battalion. 


[s]  Ariftotle,  in  his  Treatifje  De  Sophifticis  Elenchis,  L.  i.  Chap.  iv.  where  he  treats  of 
this  efFeft  of  accent  as  to  creating  doubts,  and  illuftrates  it  by  the  fame  examples,  makes  this 
very  curious  remark.  IlapK  Js  tjik  Trpo(7uSixu  iv  fA]i  tJIi;  a,i/tu  ypa(pYig  J'losXfxlixoi;  s  fotitov 
TToTna-xt  Xoyov'  u  ^i  rati;  ytyjixfifjiiKxt;  ^  7roi>i/xa(7i  [axXXov.  '  It  is  not  eafy  to  make  a 
'  fallacy  by  the  accent  in  arguments  not  written,  but  rather  in  written  language  and  poetry.' 
From  this  it  is  obvious,  that  in  the  time  of  Ariftotle  Greek  was  fpoken  by  accent,  and  that 
the  accents  were  not  marked  in  writing,  nor  apparent  in  the  recitation  of  vcrfe  ;  that  is,  I 
imagine,  in  the  recitation  cf  Greek  verfe,  accent  was  loft  in  the  fuperior  momentum  given 
to  quantity,  as  in  Latin  verfe,  and  even  in  Greek  verfe  as  we  now  read  it,  quantity  is  loft 
in  the  fuperior  momentum  we  give  to  Latin  accentuation. 


NOTE 


Note  ix.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  517 


NOTE     IX. 

OBJECTIONS    MAY    BE    CONFUTED    BY    THE    DIVISION    OF    THE 

SENTENCE. 

T  H  AT  is  the  pundluation.  Shakefpear  has  ftrongly  exempUfied  this 
in  his  prologue  to  the  clown's  play  in  Midfummer  Night's  Dream^  y 

[t]  Mr.  Sheridan  has  pointed  out  many  inflances  of  this  breach  of 
propriety  in  his  Treatife  on  Elocution,  which  are  frequently  made  by 
the  clergy  in  the  ufnal  mode  of  reading  the  Liturgy.  One  is  very 
common,  even  among  good  readers,  which,  be  fides  offending  greatly 
againft  euphony,  makes  nonfenfe  of  the  paflage.  I  mean  in  the  prayer 
for  the  King.  *  Our  moft  gracious  fovereign  lord  King  George.'  This 
is  commonly  read  with  a  ftop  after  fovereign,  making  it  a  fubflantive, 
and  o-iving  his  majefty  a  ridiculous  title,  fomething  like  that  of  a  duke's 
younger  fon.  The  flop  fliould  be  obvioufly  after  lord,  making  fovereign 
an  adjedlive.  Our  fovereign  lord,  the  King,  is  the  general  legal  defigna- 
tion  of  his  majefty.  Turn  to  a  common  prayer  book  of  Queen  Anne, 
and  tiie  abfurdity  will  be  flill  more  ftriking.  I  have  heard  fome  carelefs 
readers  in  the  prayer  for  the  Prince  read,  '  George  Prince— of  Wales,' 
exadlly  as  if  they  were  fpeaking  of  a  private  inliabitant  of  the  princi- 
pality. 

The  following  line  of  Pope, 

*  And  make  Irnm.ortal  verfe  as  mean  as  mine,' 

[t]  See  Note  iv.  Chap.  xix. 

will 


5i8  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxv. 

will  have  oppofite  meanings,  according  to  the  pofition  of  the  flop,  after 
*  immortal,'  or  '  verfe,'  which  laft  by  the  way  is  the  moft  natural 
conltruftion. 


N  O  T  E     X. 

OR     BY    AMBIGUOUS    EXPRESSIONS. 

ARISTOTLE  explains  his  meaning  fully  as  to  this,  in  his  Treatife 
De  Sophisticis  Elenchis,  L.  i.  Chap.  iv.  He  clearly  there  fliews, 
as  Mr.  Twining  fays,  that  by  ambiguity  ([u]  xy^i^oxia)  he  defjgns  fuch 
different  fenfes,  as  two  or  more  words  are  capable  of  independently 
of  their  punduation.  As  juxta-pofition  is  the  principal  fign  of  con- 
nexion in  Englifh,  it  is  difficult  to  give  inftances  of  this,  independent  [x] 
of  the  punduation.  The  example  given  by  the  philofopher  in  the  place 
above  cited,  to  f^^Xsa-dai  Xcd^BTv  jtte  touV  mUyAovg.  '  Velle  capere  me  holies,* 
it  is  impoffible  to  tranflate  into  Englifli,  and  preferve  the  ambiguity, 
which  confills  in  its  being  doubtful  whether  it  expreffes  a  wifh  that  I 
fliould  take,  or  be  taken  by  the  enemy  [y]. 

Perhaps  the  befl  inftance  that  can  be  given  of  this  kind  of  ambiguity 
in  Englifli,  is  the  promifcuous  ufe  [z]  oi  '  he,'  '  him,'  *  flie,'  *  her,' 

[u]  The  Frencli  have  naturalized  the  Greek  word,  amphibologie. 
[x]  See  Note  vi.  Chap.  xxii. 

[yj  In  Home's  Elements  of  Critlcifm,  Chap,  xviii.  Se£l.  ii.  many  inftances  of  ambi- 
guity are  cited  from  Englifli  writers,  but  moft:  of  them  may  be  made  dear  by  the  punduatioi) 
[z]  Sec  Encyclopedie,  Article  Amphieologje.     Such  an  expreflion  as,  '  he  fights  him- 

'  fclf,'  comes  under  this  clafs  exaftly, 

when 


Note  X.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  519 

when  a  number  of  perfons  are  fpoken  of,  and  which  occafion  the  fre- 
quent, though  neceffary  repetition  of  '  he  the  faid  a.  c'  in  our  deeds 
and  law  proceedings. 

Sometimes  however  in  our  verfe  an  alteration  of  the  ufual  arrange- 
ment of  the  words,  will  create  an  ambiguity  that  punduation  cannot 
elucidate.  An  inftance  occurs  in  a  tranflation  I  have  feen  of  two  lines 
of  the  fifth  book  of  Ovid's  Metamorphofes. 

*  Now  Ador's  fon,  whofe  hands  a  pole-ax  wield, 

*  Without  a  fword  the  gallant  Perfeus  kill'd.' 

Taking  thefe  verfes  by  themfelves  it  would  appear  that  the  fon  of  A&or 
had  killed  Perfeus,  both  from  the  pofition  of  the  words,  and  tlie  circum- 
ftance  of  the  pole-axe.  From  the  advantage  the  Latin  has  of  diltin- 
guirtiing  the  governing  and  governed  cafe  by  the  termination,  no  fuch 
ambiguity  appears  in  the  original. 

*  At  non  Adloriden  Erithen,  cui  lata  bipennis 

*  Telum  erat,  admoto  petit  enfe.' 

There  is  a  ftriking  inftance  in  Thomfon's  tragedy  of  Tancred  and 
Sigifmunda,  where  the  conftrudlion  of  the  fentence  and  the  fenfe  are  in 
oppofition  to  each  other.     Sigifmunda  fiys, 

*  Retire  !  for  tho'  th'  emotions  of  my  heart 

*  Can  ne'er  alarm  my  virtue  j  yet,  alas! 

'  They  tear  it  fo,  they  pierce  it  with  fuch  anguifli, 

*  Oh,  'tis  too  much  !  I  cannot  bear  the  conflid!' 

Here  the  conftrudtion  points  to  virtue,  but  the  fenfe  obvioufly  to 
heart  as  the  antecedent  of  it. 

NOTE 


520  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.xxv. 


NOTE     XI. 

OR    BY    THE    ESTABLISHED    CUSTOM    OF   SPEECH,    AS — ARTIFICERS 
IN     STEEL    ARE    CALLED    BRAZIERS. 

O  N  the  fame  principle  we  call  aftors  of  comedy  and  tragedy  equally 
[a]  comedians.  And  we  alfo  ufe  gold  for  money  in  general.  May  not 
we  infer  our  fuperior  wealth  from  the  circumftance  of  this  being  peculiar 
to  ourfelves.  All  the  other  nations  of  Europe,  with  whofe  language  I 
am  at  all  acquainted,  ufing  filver  in  the  fame  fenfe.  '  I  have  no  filver,' 
would  be  a  very  unfaithful  tranflation  of  '  Je  n'ai  point  d'argent.'  In 
Latin,  ass,  (brafs)  is  equivalent  with  money. 

NOTE      XII. 

IT  IS  RIGHT  ALSO,  WHEN  A  WORD  SEEMS  TO  BE  CAPABLE  OF 
GIVING  CONTRARY  SENSES,  TO  EXAMINE  HOW  MANY  SIGNI- 
FICATIONS   IT    MAY    HAVE    IN     THE    PASSAGE    BEFORE    US. 

THE  reader  who  has  honored  me  with  his  attention  thus  far,  will  be 
at  no  lofs  for  examples  of  this  fort  of  folution.  The  various  commentators 
on  Shakefpear  afford  numerous  inflances.  I  will  feleft  one  from  Hamlet. 
*  Let  the  devil  wear  black  for  I'll  have  a  fuit  of  fables.'  Now  the  word 
fables  may  have  two  contradidlory  fenfes  here.  It  may  mean  mourning 
as  in  the  paflage  from  Maflinger,  quoted  by  Farmer ;  or  it  may  mean  a 

[a]  See  Note  [c]  Chap.  iii.  on  the  traiiflation. 

rich 


Note  xri.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE,  521 

rich  drefs,  as  in  Malone's  quotation  from  Ben  Jonfon.  The  word 
is  capable  of  either  fenfe  in  the  paflage  before  us.  The  very  contradic- 
tion it  appears  to  convey  in  the  firfl  fenfe,  is  not  unlikely  to  be  the  in- 
tent of  a  man  vvho  is  counterfeiting  madnefs :  and  on  the  other  hand,  a 
drefs  made  of  the  fkins  of  the  animal,  would  be  a  very  proper  habit  for 
the  climate  of  Denmark,  efpecially  at  a  feafon  of  the  year  when  Hamlet, 
Horatio  and  the  foldiers  complain  much  of  the  feverity  of  the  cold.  As 
to  which  meaning  is  the  mofl:  probable  here, 

*  Who  fliall  decide  when  dodlors  difagree  ?' 

But  I  am  inclined  to  think  with  Mr.  Farmer,  that  it  is  meant  to  be 
equivocal,  [b]  Hamlet  though  he  afFeded  to  be  mad  was  not  really  fo. 
Therefore  he  might  wifh  to  fpeak  fenfe,  and  at  the  fame  time  give  it  the 
appearance  of  nonfenfe. 

[b1  It  muft  be  confelTed  Shakefpear  has  not  been  very  careful  in  keeping  up  this  diftinftion 
throughout  the  play.  See  Note  v.  Chap.  xv.  Since  I  wrote  the  above  I  have  met  with 
another  pailage  in  this  play,  which,  if  the  word  is  not  equivocal,  appears  to  confirm  the  firft 
fenfe.     Hamlet  enquiring  of  Horatio  about  the  ghoft ;  aflcs  impatiently 


Horatio  anfvvers. 


'  His  beard  was  grizzled  ? — No  ?' 


*  It  was,  as  I  have  feen  it  in  his  life, 

*  A  SABLE  filver'd,' 


3    X  NOTE 


522  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xxv. 


NOTE      XIII. 

SOME  MEN  TAKING  UP  AN  OPINION  HASTILY,  AND  THEN  REA- 
SONING FROM  PREJUDICE  IN  FAVOUR  OF  THAT  OPINION,  WILL 
BLAME  ANY  THING  THAT  IS  CONTRARY  TO  WHAT  THEY 
HAVE    PRE-SUPPOSED. 

THIS  pofition  of  Glauco  is  compleatly  illuftrated  by  the  example 
in  the  text.  Moft  of  the  erroneous  opinions  of  the  commentators  on 
the  work  before  us  arife  from  the  fame  caufe  j  efpecially  many  of  the 
French  dramatic  rules,  which  are  faid  to  be  taken  from  Ariftotle,  when 
in  fad:  they  are  not.  The  depreciating  the  valor  of  Achilles,  as  if  Homer 
had  made  him  invulnerable,  comes  under  this  predicament  [c]. 

NOTE      XIV. 

THE  IMPOSSIBLE  SHOULD  BE  CONSIDERED  AS  CONDUCING  ON  THE 
WHOLE  EITHER  TO  THE  END,  WHICH  IT  IS  THE  AIM  OF 
POETRY  TO  ATTAIN,  OR  TO  EXCELLENCE  OF  CHARACTER, 
OR    AS     BEING     AGREEABLE    TO    RECEIVED    OPINION. 

I  IMAGINE  Ariftotle  alludes  here  to  the  purfuit  of  Hedlor  in  the 
Iliad,  which  he  has  twice  mentioned  as  incurring  this  blame,  and  that 
he  is  now  fliewing  us  on  what  principles  it  may  be  vindicated. 

[c]  Note  VII.  Chap,  xv. 

Firft, 


Note  XIV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  523 

Firft,  It  conduces  to  the  main  end  of  poetry,  the  production  of  inte- 
reft,  [d]  for  we  muft  be  more  interefted  for  the  event  of  a  fingle  combat 
than  the  deftrudlion  of  one  perfon  by  fuperior  numbers ;  and  fuch  a  cir- 
cumftance  will  afford  greater  variety  and  produce  greater  eftedl  in  the 
detail. 

Secondly,  The  charader  of  Achilles,  in  point  of  courage  at  leaft,  if 
not  [e]  of  condu(5l,  will  be  raifed ;  and  the  valor  and  addrefs  of  both  com- 
batants will  be  fliewn  in  a  more  confpicuous  light.  It  is  impoffible  for 
contempt  of  inevitable  death  to  be  more  ftrongly  expreffed  than  in  the 
two  lines  uttered  by  Achilles  after  the  dying  prophecy  of  Hedor. 

*  Die  thou  the  firft — when  Jove  and  heav'n  ordain, 

*  I  follow  thee.'  [f] 

And  thirdly.  As  to  its  being  agreeable  to  received  opinion,  it  is  very 
poffible  it  might  be  fo ;  and  we  may  fafely  give  it  credit  on  the  authority 
of  the  Stagirite. 

Our  modern  novel  writers  are  fometimes  apt  to  carry  the  fecond  ex- 
€ufe  a  little  too  far,  and  favor  us  with  perfect  monfters.  Sir  Charles 
Grandifon  is  a  much  more  improbable  charader  than  Caliban.     The 

[dI  '  Even  in  comic  compofition  expreflions,  though  fometimes  falling  into  the  improbable, . 
*■  become  probable  from  exciting  laughter,  as  this,  "  he  pofleffed  an  eftate  no  bigger  than  a 
«  Lacedaemonian's  letter ;"'  laughter  being  a  paffion  though  a  pleafing  one'     LoNGlNUS, , 
Seft.  xxxvnr. 

[e]  Note  V.  Chap.  XXIV. 

TfI    TEflvaSi, — Kripa  (J'  lyco  tste  ijs^ojtxai  otttto'ts  kcv  Sri. 

3X2  manner* 


524  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.xxv. 

manners  of  Caliban,  for  what  we  know,  may  be  very  natural  for  a  be- 
ing compofed  of  a  witch  and  a  fiend ;  but  we  immediately  know  the 
manners  of  Sir  Charles  Grandifon  are  perfectly  unnatural  in  a  mere 
man. 

Perfeftion  of  charafter,  befides  the  objeftion  [g]  formerly  made  to  it, 
will  always  be  infipid  and  uninterefting.  I  am  inclined  to  think  the 
Helen  of  Zeuxis,  if  it  were  compofed,  as  we  are  told  it  was,  from  a 
feleftion  of  the  bell  features  of  the  moft  beautiful  women  of  Greece, 
could  not  be  a  very  interefling  piece. 

The  Abbe  Terrallbn,  who  feems  to  pufh  the  idea  of  perfedlion  as  far 
as  it  can  reafonably  go,  fpeaking  of  the  Telemachus,  which  he  praifes 
above  all  other  epopees  for  drawing  fo  excellent  a  charader  of  a  young 
hero,  adds,  '  The  epic  hero  being  propofed  as  a  model  for  imitation,  it  is 

*  not  allowable  to  elevate  him  above  human  nature.     We  may  leave  him 

*  flight  failings  which  may  even  fometimes  draw  him  into  misfortunes, 

*  if  we  chufe  it,  in  the  courfe  of  the  poem.     I  have  not  therefore  faid, 

*  that  the  hero  of  the  epopee  fliould  be  perfedly  virtuous.     I  have  only 

*  faid  that  he  ought  to  be  effentially  virtuous.' 

[g]  Note  III.  Chap.  xiii. 


NOTE 


Note  XV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  52^ 


NOTE     XV. 

AS  TO  THE  WAY  IN  WHICH  CONTRADICTIONS  MAY  BE  AN- 
SWERED, THEY  SHOULD  BE  CONSIDERED  IN  THE  SAME  LIGHT 
AS  CONFUTATIONS  IN  AN  ARGUMENT.  We  SHOULD  OBSERVE 
IF  THE  SAME  THINGS  ARE  SPOKEN  OF,  OR  TO  THE  SAME 
PERSON,    OR    IN    THE    SAME    MANNER. 

THIS  feems  to  be  extending  the  fame  principle  to  account  for  and 
excufe  contradidions,  that  is  employed  before  (fee  note  v.  on  this  chapter) 
to  excufe  fentiments  that  feem  immoral.  As  there  the  immorality  is  no 
fault  unlefs  carried  to  a  great  excefs,  if  it  proceeds  from  an  immoral  cha- 
radter  apparently  {hewn  fo,  who  will  not  intereft  us  in  his  favor ;  Co 
here  contradi<ftions  in  opinion  will  be  proper  or  improper  according  to 
the  manners  and  fentiments  of  the  fpeaker.  In  real  life  people  fee 
things  in  different  lights  according  to  their  different  habits,  mods 
of  education,  or  profeffion.  A  painter  will  not  fpeak  of  a  wood  like  a 
timber-merchant,  or  a  mathematician  deliver  his  opinion  on  Homer  or 
Milton  in  the  fame  terms  with  a  poet.  This  the  compofer  of  fiditious 
fable  is  to  imitate  -,  and  indeed  from  the  nice  difcrimination  of  this  arifes 
the  variety  of  ferious,  and  the  humour  of  comic  poetry.  Romeo  and  the 
Friar  fhould  not  be  affeded  in  the  fame  manner  at  the  appearance  of 
Juliet.  Prince  Henry  will  not  addrefs  his  father,  Percy,  and  Fali^ff,  in 
the  fame  terms.  Sincerity  will  not  be  expeded  from  lago,  or  wlidom 
from  the  mouth  of  Malvolio.  Horace  exemplifies  this  difference  of 
fentiment  arifmg  from  difference  of  charader  in  the  epiftle  to  the  Pifos. 

'  Much 


526  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxv. 

*  Much  boots  the  fpeaker's  charadter  to  mark  : 

*  God,  hero,  grave  old  man,  or  hot  young  fpark^ 

*  Matron,  or  bufy  nurfe,  who's  ufed  to  roam 

*  Trading  abroad,  or  plows  his  field  at  home  : 

*  If  Colchian  or  Aflyrian  fill  the  fcene, 

*  Thebaa  or  Argian  note  the  (hades  between  [h].' 

C0LMAN.0. 

NOTE     XVL 

THE     REPREHENSIONS     OF     IMPIETY     AND    ABSURDITY    WILL     IN- 
DEED   BE    JUST    WHEN    THEY    ARE    INTRODUCED    WITHOUT    NE- 
CESSITY- 
ARISTOTLE  gives  examples  of  each.     Of  unnecefTary  abfurdily 
from  the  Egeus  of  Euripides  a  few  fragments  only  of  which  remain  i  and 
of  impiety  from  the  charafter  of  Menelaus  in  the  Oreftes  of  the  fame  poet, 
which  he  has  already  mentioned  in  the  fifteenth  chapter  as  an  example 
of  the  fame.     Dryden,  in  his  tragedy  of  Tyrannic  Love,  has  faved  us 
the  trouble  of  feeking  for  two  inftances,  as  the  charafter  of  Maximin 
furnifhes  at  the  fame  time  an  example  of  both.     We  fliould  be  fhocked 
at  the  blafphemies  he  utters,  if  their  complete  abfurdity  did  not  rather 
incline  us  to  laugh.     I  hardly  know  a  more  ridiculous  circumftance  even. 


I'j^ 


[h]  Intererit  muTtum  divufne  loquatur  an  heros 
Maturufne  fenex  an  adhuc  florente  juventa 
Fervidus;  an  matrona  potens  an  fcdula  nutrix, 
Mercatorne  vagus  cultornc  virentis  agelli, 
Colchus  an  Aflyrius  j  Thebis  nutritus  an  Argis. 


in 


NoTExvr.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  527 

in  Tom  Thumb,  than  occurs  in  one  line.     He  has  declared  war  with  the 
gods,  and  being  from  cuftom  betrayed  into  an  oath  immediately  corrects 

himfelf. 

*  Now  by  the  gods ! — By  Maximin  I  mean.' 

The  author  of  the  Letters  of  Literature  mentions  [i]  a  new  figure 
of  rhetoric  which  he  calls  uvom,  or  utter  absurdity,  a  figure  which 
he  fliews  by  examples,  many  writers  of  high  reputation  have  made  a 
very  free  ufe  of.  [k]  To  the  inflances  he  gives  may  be  added  tlie  condudt 
of  Virgil  in  regard  to  Afcanius.  In  the  fecond  book  of  the  iEneid  he  is 
a  little  boy  accompanying  his  father. 

*  Haud  pafTibus  squis.' 

*  And  with  unequal  paces  tripp'd  along.' 

Dkyden. 

And  in  the  third  book  Andromache,  fpeaking  of  her  own  fon,  fays  to 

him, 

•*  O  mihi  fola  mei  fuper  Aflyanadlis  imago, 

*  Sic  oculos,  fic  ille  manus,  fic  ora  ferebat  ^ 

*  Et  nunc  squali  tecum  pubefceret  aevo.' 


■*  In  thee  my  lofl  Aflyanax  I  trace, 

*  Such  were  his  eyes,  his  form,  his  blooming  face ;  <g 

*  Such  now,  had  fate  decreed,  his  manhood's  ripening  grace. 


:1 


Again,  Virgil  in  one  part  of  his  fourth  book  makes  him  a  child  in  lap,  and 
in  another  an  aftive  youth  following  the  chace  on  a  fiery  courfer,  and 
wi(hing  to  encounter  a  wild  boar  or  a  lion. 


[i]  Letter  xxii. 

fK]  See  Curiofities  of  Literature,  Article  Virgil,  printed  for  J.  Murray,  1791. 


There 


528  A  COiMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxr. 

There  is  a  ftriking  inflance  of  this  figure  in  Tancred  and  Sigifmunda. 
Sigifmunda  is  in  defpair  at  Tancred's  fuj3pofed  infidelity  in  fiarfaking  her 
and  offering  his  hand  to  Conftantia,  after  having  given  her  the  ftrongeft 
affurances  of  unaltered  attachment.  At  this  jun(5ture  Siffredi  comes  in 
and  prefies  his  daughter  to  give  her  hand  to  Ofmond :  and  to  overcome 
her  reludtance  at  taking  this  ftep  he  tries  to  roufe  her  pride,  and  induce 
her  to  fhew  the  king  that  her  heart 

*  Difdains  to  wear 

*  A  chain  that  his  has  greatly  thrown  afide.* 

A  very  natural  argument,  and  which  prevails  afterwards  in  the  mouth  of 
Laura,  and  from  whence  the  novel  in  Gil  Bias  from  which  the  fable 
and  part  of  the  language  of  the  tragedy  are  taken,  receives  its  name[L]. 

But  how  does  Siffredi  condudl  his  argument  ? 

*  But  above  all  you  mull  root  out  for  ever 

*  From  the  king's  breaft  the  leafl  remain  of  hope, 

*  And  henceforth  make  his  mention'd  love  difhonor.' 

Was  not  this  effectually  done  by  Tancred's  match  with  Conflantia?  In 
fa6l  this  (to  ufe  a  vulgar  proverb)  is  letting  the  cat  out  of  the  bag;  and 
acquainting  his  daughter  with  the  reludlance  of  Tancred  to  obey  the 
late  king's  will ;  and  defiring  her  to  adl  the  very  part  in  regard  to  her 
lover,  for  which  flie  herfelf  is  fo  enraged  againft  him  as  to  run  into  ano- 
ther man's  arms,  merely  from  a  principle  of  revenge. 


[l]  '  La  Marriage  du  Vengeance.'    Which  SmoUet  (with  an  eye  I  prefume  to  the  figure 
in  queftion)  has  rendered  '  The  Baleful  Marriage.' 

In 


Note  XVI.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  52^ 

In  thefe  lines  of  Shenftone,  otherwife  beautiful,  there  is  a  manifeii 
abfiirdity. 

*  Pleafing  when  youth  is  long  expired  to  trace 

*  The  forms  our  pencil  or  our  pen  defign'd  j 

"  Such  was  our  youthful  air,  and  fhape,  and  face, 
"  Such  the  foft  image  of  our  youthful  mind." 

This  is  comparing  the  fifter  arts  in  a  circumftance  where  they  have  not 
the  leaft  refembhnce  :  the  early  productions  of  a  young  poet,  if  written 
from  the  heart,  may  fhew  the 

—  '  Soft  image  of  his  youthful  mind.' 

But  I  cannot  poflibly  fee  how 

•  His  youthful  air,  and  fhape,  and  face,' 
can  be  traced  in  the  juvenile  defigns  of  the  painter. 

I  fhall  conclude  thefe  examples  with  one  from  Shakefpear.  In  the 
Merchant  of  Venice,  Portia  quotes  the  Lord's  Prayer  to  perfuade  a  Jew 
(calling  him  fo  only  three  lines  before.) 

*  We  do  pray  for  mercy ; 

*  And  that  fame  prayer  doth  teach  us  all  to.  render 

*  The  deeds  of  mercy.' — 


3  Y  NOTE 


^30  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xxv. 


NOTE      XVII. 

THE  ANSWERS    TO    THESE    OBJECTIONS  MAY  BE  COLLECTED  FROM 
WHAT  WE   HAVE    SAID.    AND   THEY   AI.E  TWELVE  IN  NUMBER. 

THOUGH  in  the  note  on  the  tranflation  I  have  given  what  appeared 
to  me  the  moft  probable  arrangement  of  thefe  folutionsj  yet  I  muft 
avow  my  indecifion  on  a  fubjeft  which  has  occafioned  fo  many  various 
opinions  among  the  different  commentators. 


CHAP. 


Note  1.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  531 


CHAP.      XXVI. 
NOTE     I. 

TRAGEDY  ALSO  AS  WELL  AS  THE  EPOPEE  MAY  ATTAIN  ITS 
END  WITHOUT  REPRESENTATION,  FOR  WE  CAN  JUDGE  OF  ITS 
MERIT    BY    READING    ONLY. 


^^^les  in 


X  HIS  is  ftridly  true;  and  perhaps  there  are  few  good  traged 
which  the  efFedt  is  not  in  general,  at  leaft  as  forcible  in  the  clofet  as  on 
the  ftage,  even  in  the  modern  theatre.  In  the  ftrongly  impaffioned  parts, 
where  every  other  confideration  of  effed:  is  loft  in  feeling,  we  are  won- 
derfully moved  by  the  natural  efforts  of  a  Garrick.  and  a  Siddons ;  but 
this  is  independent  of  the  ftage  effedl,  and  would  be  as  ftrong  in  a  room 
as  on  the  ftage.  But  the  appearance  of  fcene-fliifters,  the  pantii^g  [m] 
dead  bodies,  and  other  circumftances  of  the  fame  nature  that  muft 
neceffarily  attend  the  reprefentation,  rather  weaken  than  encreafe 
the  force  of  the  illufion ;  and  the  exception  juft  made  can  extend  only  to 
few  performers.  There  are  not  many  adlors  who  are  able  to  give  us  ia 
the  reprefentation,  the  ideas  we  form  of  the  charadlers  of  Shakefpear  from 
reading  his  plays.  Mr.  Jackfon,  who  to  the  higheft  merit  in  one,  adds 
an  accurate  and  elegant  tafte  in  all  the  polite  arts,  fays,  *  I  have  feldom 
*  any  pleafure  from  the  reprefentation  of  Sliakefpear's  plays,  unlefs  it  be 
'  from  fome  fcenes  of  con  verfation  merely  without  paffion.    Thefpeeches 

[m]  Note  III.  Chap.  xi. 

3  Y  2  *  which 


532  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxvi. 

'  which  have  any  thing  affedting  in  the  expreffion  are  generally  fo  over- 
*  ad:ed  as  to  ceafe  to  be  "  the  mirror  of  nature  [b]." 

There  is  in  faft  always  fomething  wanting  in  the  apparatus  of  the 
drama,  I  mean  efpecially  in  tragedy  [c],  to  keep  up  the  delulion.  Here 
the  painter  has  the  advantage ;  he  has  only,  it  is  true,  a  point  of  time  to 
imitate,  but  this  point  he  can  imitate  accurately.  He  can  paint  the 
horfe  ftarting  at  the  dead  bodies  in  the  field  of  Bofworth  or  Agincourt ; 
he  has  no  need  of  i-ofm  for  the  artificial  and  almoft  ridiculous  flafli  of 
lightning  which  precedes  the  thunder  of  the  fcene-fhifter ;  his  imitative 
corrufcations  feem  really  to  divide  the  clouds  and  threaten  the  wretched 
head  of  the  night-wandering  monarch.  He  can  alfo  ftain  the  bofom  of 
.  ^Juliet  with  blood  without  exciting  our  difguft,  and  fhew  us  the  bleeding 
rings  from  which  the  eyes  of  Glofler  have  been  torn  without  raifing  too 
violent  and  offenfive  a  fenfation  of  horror. 

If  fuch  is  the  efFed  of  the  modern  theatrical  apparatus  on  the  interell 
of  the  drama,  what  muft:  have  been  that  of  the  ancient  with  all  its  ex- 
aggerated and  unnatural  appendages  ?  Increafing  the  improbability  in  the 
ftrongeft  degree,  and  robbing  the  reprefentation  of  its  chief  effeft,  the 
natural  expreffion  of  the  paffions,  by  the  difplay  of  their  operation  on  the 
human  form  and  countenance  through  the  exertions  of  a  good  adtor. 

If  however  there  are  few  adtors  who  are  able  to  dojuftice  to  the  cha- 
raders  of  Shakefpcar,  there  are  alfo  few  other  dramatic  charadei's  who 

[b]  Letter  xiv. 

[c]  This  is  not  fo  much  the  cafe  with  comedy.  A  handfome  room,  a  ftreet,  or  even  a 
view  of  St.  James's  Park,  may  be  reprefented  accurately  enough.  If  the  apparatus  fails  in 
comedy,  it  is  generally  not  from  deficiency  but  the  contrary.     See  Note  viii.  Chap.  xv. 

do 


Note  i.  POETIC  OF  ARISTQTLE.  533 

do  not  owe  much  of  their  merit  to  the  exertion  of  the  performers  in 
general.  It  is  not  every  play  that  juftifies  the  obfervation  which  is  the 
fubjedl  of  this  note. 

Dr.  Francklin,  in  the  preface  to  his  excellent  tranflation  of  Sophocles, 
obferves  in  commendation  of  the  ancient   mafk,  *  That  the   aftor  was 

*  not,  as  on  our  ftage,  left  at  liberty  to  murder  fine  language  and  fenti- 

*  ment  by  wrong  accent  and  falfe  pronunciation,  by  hurrying  over  fome 

*  parts  with  precipitancy  and  drawling  out  others  into  a  tedious  monotony, 

*  a  good  voice  and  a  tolerable  ear  were  all  that  the  poet  required  of  him.' 

Dr.Francklin  forgets  that  this  argument  proves  too  much;  fince  applied 
to  a  good  a(Sor  the  reverfe  is  equally  true.  Would  it  be  no  difadvantage* 
to  dramatic  effedt  to  hide  the  fpeaking  features  of  a  Garrick  behind  a 
deformed  vizor  j  or  diftort  the  pathetic  tones  of  Mrs.  Siddons  by  a 
fpeaking  trumpet  ?  Indeed  the  effeft  was  tried  on  Mr.  Garrick.  The 
only  charadler  of  Shakefpear  in  which  he  could  not  fucc-eed  was  Othello. 
What  muft  have  been  loft  from  his  not  being  able  to  mark  by  his  ex- 
preflive  countenance,  the  confliifl  of  the  various  paflions  in  his  bofom 
while  lago  was  working  on  his  jealoufy  ! 

I  will  conclude  this  note  with  the  opinion  of  an  eminent  critic  on  the; 
fubjedl.     *  A  fludluation  of  paflion  and  refined  fentiments  would  have 

*  made  no  figure  on  the  Grecian  ftage.     Imagine  the  difcording  fcene 
'  between  Brutus  and  Cafiius  in  Julius  Caefar  to  be  there  exhibited,  or  the 

*  handkerchief  in  the  Moor  of  Venice  ;  how  flight  would  be  their  effecft, 

*  when  pronounced  in  a  mafk  and  through  a  pipe  !     The  workings  of 

*  nature   upon   the  countenance,  and  the  inflexions  of  voice   fo  deeply 

*  afi'ediing  in  modern  reprefentation,  would  have  been  entirely  loft.     If 

*  a  great 


534  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xx\n. 

'  a  great  genius  had  arifen  with  talents  for  compofing  a  pathetic  tragedy 
*  in  perfedion,  he  would  have  made  no  figure  in  Greece.'  Home's 
Sketches  of  the  Hiftory  of  Man,  Book  i.  Sk.  v.  2. 

NOTE     II. 

TRAGEDY    THEN    HAS    EVERV    REQUISITE     IN    COMMON    WITH    THE 
EPOPEE    SINCE     IT    MAY    EQUALLY    USE    VERSE. 

THE  more  I  have  confidered  this  paffage,.  the  more  I  am  confirmed 
in  my  opinion,  that  to  f^irpov  means  here  iambic  verfe  unafllfted  by  mufic 
and  reprefentation  [d],  and  not  hexameter  verfe  in  oppofition  to  it  [e]. 
I  do  not  think  an  inftance  can  be  found  in  the  treatife,  of  f^erpcv  being  ufed 
in  this  appropriated  fenfe.  In  the  firft  chapter  Ariftotle  fays,  fome  are 
called  iambic  and  fome  elegiac  poets  from  their  metre,  to  fisrpov ;  and 
again  he  fpeaks  foon  after  of  a  poem  compofed  in  all  forts  of  meafure 
[Krrctvjx  Tu  y,eT^x).  And  juft  before  this,  in  the  fame  chapter,  he  fays 
the  epopee  imitates,  either  ufing  [x^uf^evTi)  plain  words  or  verfe  of  dif- 
ferent kinds  {roTg  ixer^otg)  comprehending  every  fort  of  verfe  ;  or  one 
only,  EM  Tn/i  ruv  fjcer^uv,  by  which  he  fignifies  hexameters,  as  diflin- 
guifhed  from  dithyrambics,  mimes,  comedy,  and  tragedy,  who  ufe  {x^uv]ki) 
rhythm,  melody  and  meafure.  Here  is  exadlly  the  fame  oppofition  mark- 
ed between  the  means,  (for  fitia-tx.'^  in  the  paffage  before  us  includes  both 
rythm  and  melody) ;  why  then  fliould  not  to  fzer^ov  equally  fignify  verfe 
in  general  in  both  pafiliges  ?  Ariflotle  in  the  firft  chapter  employs  %fwi'7ai 
to  exprefs  the  ufe  that  dithyrambics,  mimes,  tragedy,  and  comedy,  make 


[d]  See  this  Chapter,  Note  [g]  on  the  trandation. 

[e]  See  Note  [a]  on  the  trandation,  Chap,  xxiii. 


of 


Note  ir.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE,  -^^^^ 

of  their  whole  powers,  rhythin,  melody  and  raeafure.  Surely  then, 
when  he  chofe  afterwards  to  fhew  what  one  of  thefe  fpecies  of  imitative 
poetry  could  effeft  when  '  fliorn  of  half  its  rays,'  when  making  itfelf 
equal  to  the  epopee  by  laying  afide  the  mufic  and  the  fcenery  and  appa- 
ratus of  the  theatre,  which,  as  well  here  as  in  the  fixth  chapter  he  allows 
to  be  the  moil  affedling  part  of  the  drama :  furely  if,  in  the  firfl  place,  he 
employs  ^^iJi/Ta!;  to  exprefs  the  ufe  thefe  compolitions  do  make  of  all 
their  powers  :  by  what  words  could  he  fo  well  exprefs  the  power  tra- 
gedy MIGHT  have  of  attaining  its  end  contrary  to  the  general  pradlice  by 
ufmg  one  only,  .as  t^e^i  %f^(r5«<[F]? 

It  is  true  Ariftotle  does,  in  the  iirfl  chapter,  hypotheticaliy  put  the  cafe  of 
an  epopee  in  trimeter  or  elegiac  verfe,  but  with  apparent  difapprobation 
on  the  fame  principle  as  he  undoubtedly  would  a  tragedy  in  hexameters 
'had  he  taken  occafion  to  fuppofe  one,  from  nature  herfelf  having 
pointed  out  the  metre  congenial  with  each.  If  therefore  the  critic 
means  to  fay,  we  will  give  up  the  advantage  the  more  fimple  cadence  of 
iambics  affords  us  in  atfedling  the  paffions,  and  attack  the  epopee  in  the 
more  ornamented  and  lefs  natural  language  of  hexameters  ;  furely  the  ad- 
vocate for  the  epopee  in  return  might  lay,  we  will  lay  afide  what  advantage 
we  derive  from  the  richer  cadence  of  hexameter  verfe,  and  contend  with 
tragedy  in  iambics. 

Let  us  revert  to  the  context  and  examine  the  drift  of  Ariilotle's  whole 
reafoning  on  the  fubjeft  taken  together.     He  tiril  fays,  if  afting  is  a 

[f]  If  it  had  been  the  ufual  cuftom  in  Greece  to  recite  tragedy  as  the  French  drama  is  now 
recited  by  Teffier,  then,  and  then  only  would  the  word  jj^p^rai  (as  fuggefted  by  Mr.  Winftan- 
4ey,)  have  been  the  proper  word  to  exprefs  this  fenfe  of  the  paflage. 

difadvantaG:c 


J 


536  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxvt. 

difadvantage  to  tragedy  it  is  equally  fo  to  the  epopee,  which  may  alfo  be 
accompanied  (and  he  produces  inftances)  by  gefture,  and  even  fmging. 
If  the  adlion  of  tragedy  may  be  rendered  ridiculous  by  exaggerated  gef- 
ture, fo  he  fays  may  the  epopee  j  if  the  epopee  has  the  advantage  of 
working  its  effedl  by  reading  or  recitation  only,  and  is  therefore  more  per- 
fect in  itfelf  and  lefs  dependent  on  adventitious  ornament,  tragedy  pof- ' 
fcfi'es  the  fame  power  and  can  alfo  manifefb  its  own  intrinfic  merit  by 
pcrufal  alone.  Tragedy  therefore  has  not  only  every  advantage  in  com- 
mon with  the  epopee,  for  it  may  be  capable  of  producing  its  intended 
effedl  by  ufing  its  own  ornamented  language  only,  independent  of  repre- 
fentation,  fcenery  and  niufic  ;  but  it  has  the  additional  advantage  of  all 
theie  embelliihments  in  contradillinftion,  I  fuppofe,  to  the  fimple  reci- 
tative to  which  the  epopee  was  fet  when  it  happened  to  be  fung.  With 
thefe  fuperior  powers,  its  effsQ.  in  producing  the  paffions  of  pity  and  terror 
was  rendered  ftronger,  or,  to  ufe  the  words  of  Mr.  Twining,  *  The  illu- 
'  fion  was  heightened.'  Therefore  tragedy  was  in  CLvery  refpedl  equal  and 
in  many  fuperior  to  epic  poetry. 

This  appears  to  be  the  general  fenfe  and  connedion  of  the  whole  ar- 
gument. All  the  examples  are  drawn  from  what  was,  not  from  what 
might  BE.  The  decifion  here  does  not  reflon  the  powers  that  both  the 
drama  and  the  epopee  really  poifefs,  or  on  any  licenfe  they  can  have  of 
exchanging  their  natural  and  elfential  requifites  (one  [g]  of  which  their 
refpeftive  verfe  is  faid  to  be)  but  on  the  mode  of  exhibition.  Had  any 
fuperiority  been  fuggeftcd.  which  the  epopee  might  be  fuppofed  to  derive 
from  the  gravity  and  magnificence  of  its  meafure,and  it  had  been  anfwered 
in  the  words  of  the  pafTage  in  queflion,  the  fenfe  contended  for  might 

[g]  See  the  beginning  of  Chap.  xxiv. 

have 


Note  n.  ?OETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  537 

have  been  allowed.  Though  even  then  ro  ftsrpov  would  have  been  a 
very  improper  term  to  fignify  a  particular  kind  of  verfe  in  oppofition  to 
any  other,  it  having  been  fo  very  often  ufed  for  verfc  in  general  in  this 
treatife.  Befides,  if  it  had  this  meaning,  [h]  it  might,  not,  it  may 
ufe,  feems  to  be  the  proper  phrafe. 

Indeed  if  Ariftotle  had  once  proceeded  to  giv6  the  preference  to  tra- 
gedy from  what  it  might  be  made,  the  objecftor  to  Ariftotle's  decifion 
in  favour  of  tragedy,  might  have  anfwered,  that  there  was  an  equal  pof- 
fibility  of  giving  the  advantage  of  mufic  and  reprefentation  to  the  epopee. 
It  would  certainly  have  been  very  poffible  to  3.3:  the  dialogues  of  Homer, 
omitting  the  other  parts,  or  throwing  them  into  a  chorus,  in  which  the 
Coryphaeus  might  repeat  all  that  the  poet  fays  in  his  own  perfon.  In 
fliort,  if  we  come  to  judge  of  what  a  thing  i&,  from  what  it  may  poffibly 
be  made,  by  changing  its  effential  properties,  we  may  prove  any  thing.  ' 

As  I  differ  here  with  Mr.  Winf1:anley,  neither  can  I  agree  with  what 
Mr.  Twining  fays  on  this  fubjed  in  a  note  [i]  on  a  pafTage  in  chap,  iv, 
(which  I  quote  in  the  words  of  his  own  tranflation).  '  The  iambic 
'  is  of  all  metres  tlie  mofl  colloquial,  as  appear5  evidently  from  this 

*  fad:,  that  our  common  converfition  frequently  falls  into  iambic  verfe, 
'  feldom  into  hexameter,    and  only  when  we.  depart  firom  the  ufual 

*  melody  of  fpeech  [k].' 

Of 

[h]  'E^-^j  not  i^ii'',  j^p^crOiii.     Liceat,  not  licet,  ulL 

[i]  Note  36. 

[k]  Mr.  Twining  cites  a  pafTage  in  his  note  from  the  Treatife  on  Rhetoric,  L.  lli. 
Chap.  VIII.  as  corroborating  this,  which  I  certainly  muft  think  it  does,  if  pointed  properly ; 
but  as  it  is  now  generally  pointed  and  tranflated  it  direiSly  contradifts  it,  as  well  as  itfelf. 

^7.  tUv 


538  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  Chap.  xx\rh 

Of  this  Mr.  Twining  obferves,    in  his  note   (36),    *  It  has:  been 

'*'  thought  ftrange  that  Ariftotle  fhould  introduce  here  the  mention  of 

*•  hexameters  when  he  has  been  fpeaking  only  of  trochaic  and  iambic 

•  verfe,  and  is  accounting  for  the  adoption  of  the  latter  in  preference, 

•  not  to  the  hexameter  but  to  the  trochaic  tetrameter,  and  it  has  there- 

*  fore  been  doubted  whether  we  Ihould  not  read  [l]  rerpdi^sTpoi.     But 
*'  the  eftablifhed  reading  I  believe  is  right.     The  trochaic  tetrameter 

*  Ariftotle  has  both  here  and  in  his  Rhetoric  charadterized  as  croiTvpMou, 
•>\^.^'-'lp-^ii^tyitaTipov,  Tpox^pov,  and  even  nopSMxiKuTepov.     He- did  not,   I  believe, 

'  confider  it  as  being  in  any  degree  Xskt^ov.     It  was  therefore  entirely 

*  out  of  the  queftion,  when  a  metre  proper  for  the  general  dialogue  of 
«'  tragedy  was  to  be  fought  for,  but  the  hexameter  was  not  foj  and  it 

'  Sit  Si  (r£fji.v6r*ircc  yeuiir^oii  axt  ixfntrat.  In  the  Poetic  we  are  told  hexameter  verfe  feldom  is 
fpoken  accidentally,  '  unlefs  we  depart  from  the  natural  harmony  of  difoourfe,'  exSai'i/oTfj 
^v;  AEXTixrj  dfijAona.?,  and  juft  before,  that  the.  iambic  is  of  all  verfe  the  moft  colloquial, 
/*aA.r<»  yaf  Xearmov  tuv  jAirpuv.  This,  the  paffage  in  the  rhetoric,  as  it  is  now  pointed  and 
read,  diredly  contradids,  but  all  will  be  confiftent  if  the  ftop  is  placed  after  (ni^vU,  and  none 
after  Stoy.ivoi,  rendering  it  thus.     '  Of  all   metres  the  heroic  is  the  mod  grave,  but  the 

♦  iambic  is  both  colloquial  and  deficient  in  harmony,  and  is  indeed  the  language  of  the  vulgar, 
<■  on  which  account,  of  all  meafures,  it  is  chiefly  fpoken  in  common  conveifation,  but  here,  (in 
«  rhetoric,)  it  ought  to  be  made  grave  and  be  elevated.'  Meaning,  that  oratory  fhould  have- 
more  dignity,  and  be  raifed  above  the  level  of  common  fpeech ;  and  clearly  I  think  of  the  two, 
preferring  the  hexameter  to  the  iambic  cadence  for  that  purpofe.  '  Cum  fint  numeri  plures, 
'  iambum  et  trochsum  frequentem  fegregat  ab  oratore  Ariftoteles,  qui  natura  tamen  incurrunt 
'  ipf,  in  orationem  fermonemque  noftrum  :  fed  funt  infignes  percufliones  corum  numerorum,  et 

«  minuti  pedes.     Q^iare  primum  ad  heroum  nos  dadyli  et  anapaefti  &  fponda;i  pedem  invitat.' 
Cicero  de  Orat.  L.  hi. 

fLl  Note  on  Winftanlev's  edition,  page  277. 

'  might. 


Note  ii.  POETIC  OF  ARISTtOiTLE.  •  539 

rfVmight,  without  abfurdity,  be  aiked  by  -ciiy  objedlor,  as  ■  Caftlevetro  and 

*  Piccoluomini  have  obferved,  why  that  Ipecics  of  verfe  was  not 
i«'.-adopted,  cfpccially  as  the  tragic  poets  were  the  fucceflbrs  of  the  epic 
'  or  heroic;    and  Homer,  according  to  Plato,   was  the  firft  of  tragic 

*  poets.     As  its  charatSer  was  grave  and  ftately,  it  might  feem  on  that 

*  account  well  adapted  to  tragedy,  where  indeed  we  adlually  find  it  occa- 

*  fionally  introduced.     But  Ariflotle  objeds  to  it  as  lefs  proper,   be- 

*  caufe  though  cref^vov,  it  was  at  the  fame  time,  if  Xsktikov.     He  allows, 

*  however,  that  it  was  not  fo  remote  from  the  rhythm  of  common 
.rj.fpeech,  but  that  it  might  be  cafually  produced  like  the  iambic, 
tA  though  it  rarely  happened.     He  even  goes  fo  far  as  to  allow,  in  his 

*  concluding  chapter,  that  tragedy  "  might  adopt  the  epic  metre." 
This  lafl  fentence  is  Mr.  Twining's  tranflation  of  the  pallage  in  queftion. 

j,,r-The  whole  drift  of  the  part  of  Ariftotle,  in  the  fourth  chapter,  which  I 
have  quoted  from  Mr.  Twining,  and  on  which  the  above  is  his  note,  ap- 
pears to  me  exa(5tly  this.  In  the  rude  ftate  of  the  drama  the  trochaic  tetra- 
meter was  ufed  as  the  meafure.  When  tragedy  was  more  cultivated, 
and  aflumed  a  more  ferious  and  dignified  tone,  this  metre  was  found  im- 
proper, and  another  was  to  be  adopted,  when  nature  herfelf  pointed 
out  the  iambic  as  mofi:  proper,  from  its  being  moft  congenial  with 
common  difcourfe,  which  the  dialogue  of  tragedy  was  to  refemble  as 
nearly  as  pofiible  confidently  with  its  dignity  [m],  fince  the  mode  of  its 
imitation  was  by  perfons  afting,  and  the  objects  of  its  imitation  the 
actions  of  perfons,  of  fuperior  fituation  indeed,  but  in  thofe  particular 
circumftances  which  are  incident  to  perfons  of  all  ranks,  on  which  alone 

[m]  See  Chapters  ii.  iir.  and  xui.  ^  j 

3^2  An.  ■/■f  ,i^  Ho'/k  L^jthc 


540  A  COMMENTARY  ON  TirE  Chap.  xxvr. 

the  interelT:  of  the  adiou  can  be  founded.  Whereas  hexameter  verfe, 
tliough  the  proper  language  of  the  epopee,  which  had  greater  dignity 
and  variety,  and  was  not  intended  or  calculated  to  awaken  fo  ftrong  an- 
interefl,  could  not  be  adapted  to  the  drama  as  being  too  much  at  vari- 
ance with  common  difcourfe  to  fall  cafually  into  it,  except  when  the 
language  was  elevated  above  the  ufual  cadence  of  converfation,  which  I 
conceive  the  dialogue  of  tragedy,  and  efpecially  the  interefting  parts  of  it, 
lliouid  never  be.  If,  as  Mr.  Twining  feems  to  fuppofe,  Ariflotle,  when  he 
fays,  fpcech  never  falls  into  hexameters  but  when  it  exceeds  its  ufual  har- 
mony, means,  by  its  ufual  harmony,   (r^j  XsKrixr^g  apjA-ovUg)   [n]  *  not  that 

*  kjf  and  general  ^unitt  in  which  we  commonly  apply  it  to  the  rhythm  of 

*  fpeech  when  we  talk  of  the  harmony  of  a  verfe  or  period.'  But  that 
melody  and  rhythm  which  fpeech  pofTeiles,  as  well  as  mufic,  and  which  '  m 
'  fpeech,  animated  by  paffion,  are  fo  modified  as  to  approach  more  or  lefs 
*-  perceptibly  to  mufical  melody  and  rhythm;'  and  that  '  the  Greeks 
\  feldom  or  never  departed  fo  iar  from  the  ufual  rhythm  of  fpeech.  as  to 
'  rup;  iijitQ  hexameter  verfe,  except  when  they  were  led  by  the.  fame 

*  caufe,'  (the  fupcrior  animation  of  the  language  by  paffion)  '  to  depart 
'  equally  from  its  ufuaJ  melody  and  tones.'  If  this  be  Ariftotle's  mean- 
ing ;  if  empaffioned  language  is  moft  liable  of  all  other  to  fall  natu- 
rally into  hexameter  verfe,  then  hexameter  verfe  mail  be  pointed  out  by 
nature  for  the  verfe  befl  adapted  to  it  by  nature,  and  efpecially  for 
thofe  parts  of  it  from  which  its  end,  the  exciting  pity  and  terror  are 
chiefly  if  not  folely  derived. 

I  own   I  am  inclined,  to  think  that  by  exceeding  the  harmony  of 
common  fpeech,  Ariflotle  means  quitting  the  ufual  level  of  difcourfe  for 

[n]  Continuation  of  the  above  quoted  note  of  Mr.  Twining. 

the 


Ntf-r^  rrr.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  541 

the  more  elevated  ftyle  of  oratory,  which  might  more  naturally  fliU  into 
ths  cadence  of  hexameters  [o].  taqo/q 


NOTE    in.- 

AND  TRAGEDY  POSSESSES  ANOTHER  ADVANTAGE  IN  CONFINING 
THE  ACTION  BY  WHICH  THE  END  OF  THE  IMITATION  IS 
ATTAINED  WITHIN  A  NARROWER  COMPASS.  FOR  BEING  AS 
IT  WERE  CONDENSED,  IT  BECOMES  MORE  INTERESTING  THAN 
IF  IT  WERE  PROTRACTED  THROUGH  A  LONGER  PERIOD  OF 
TIME.  w  i:  :•! 

IN  the  courfe  of  thefe  notes  I  have  more  than  once  had  occafion  to 
remark  how  much,  in  all  works  of  imitation,  intereft  depends  on  detail, 
and  here  the  fuperiority  of  the  drama  is  eminently  apparent.  Chufing 
only  a  finall,  and  that  the  moft  afFefting  part  of  a  tale,  it  is  at  full 
liberty  to  bring  even  the  moft  minute  circumftance  from'  which  intereft 
may  arife,  into  full  view,  without  at  all  injuring  the  natural  unity  of 
time,  or  the  proportional  length  of  the  other  parts. 

Befides,  the  events  and  their  caufss  are  never  fo  far  removed  from  each 
other  as  to  lofe  one  link  of  connexion  ;  nur  are  the  paffions  allowed  to 
cool  from  being  interrupted  by  intervening  incidents. 

It  alfo  derives  another  great  advantage  from  the  ftsortnefs  of  the  com- 
pofition.     A  tragedy  may  be  read,  and  always  is  reprefented,  without 

[o]  See  the  above  quotation  from  Arift.  Rhet.  and  Cic,  de  Orat. 

any 


^^2  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap.  xxvi. 

any  interruption,  a  thing  impoflible  in  the  epopee,  by  which  the  im- 
preflion  is  made  much  flronger ;  and  the  connexion  of  the  events,  the 
dependence  of  the  parts  on  each  other,  and  the  refult  of  the  cataftrophe 
from  the  whole,  is  much  more  readily  comprehended,  and  more  eafily 
remembered.  The  fliorteft  novel  is  feldom  read  but  at  intervals.  Per- 
haps it  is  to  avoid,  or  at  leail  lefTen  this  difadvantage,  that  Ariftotle  pro- 
pofes  reducing  the  length  of  the  epopee  [p]  to  that  of  the  number  of 
tragedies  ufually  performed  without  intermifiion.  But  I  imagine  it 
would  not  have  effedled  the  end.  However  an  Athenian  audience  might 
have  been  fafcinated  by  the  mufic,  the  ading,  the  fcenery,  and  the  com- 
pany [qJ\,  to  fit  fo  many  hours  during  the  reprefentation  of  a  favorite 
fpedacle,  I  much  doubt  if  they  would  have  liftened  fo  long  to  the  reci- 
tation of  an  epic  poem,  or  have  perufed  it  fo  long  with  attention. 

[p]  See  Note  ii.  Chap.  xi\% 

[qj]  The  convenience  of  the  ancient  theatre  for  convcrfation,  and  the  portico  allotted  for 
the  pucpofe  of  wallcing  and  converfing  (between  the  intervals  of  the  different  pieces  I  pre- 
fume,)  is  explained  at  large  by  M.  Boindin,  in  his  Differtation  on  the  Ancient  Theatres,  in  les 
Memoires  de  TAcademi  des  Infcriptions,  Tom.  i.  p.  136.  In  the  modern  theatre  the  fpec- 
tators  are  nailed  to  their  feats  during  the  whole  performance,  if  the  houfe  is  full ;  and  a 
fnigle  fpedator,  feated  among  ftrangers,  is  in  this  country  at  leaft,  engaged  in  almoft  as 
folitary  an  amufement  as  reading  in  his  clofet. 


NOTE 


Note  rv.J -•         POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  543 


NOTE     IV. 

THE  ILIAD  AND  ODYSSEY  ARE  AS  MUCH  THE  IMITATION  OF 
ONE  ACTION  AS  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  COMPOSITION  WOULD 
ADMIT. 

THE  aftion  of  the  Iliad  has  been  blamed  as  defedlive  in  point  of 
unity ;  a  cenfure,  I  confefs,  that  does  not  feem  eafily  anfwered.  The 
anger  of  Achilles,  which  is  the  avowed  fubjedl  of  the  poem,  is  trans- 
ferred from  Agamemnon  to  Hedlor,  producing  two  different  adlions, 
one  of  which  terminates  with  the  reconciliation  of  Achilles  and  Aga- 
memnon, the  other  with  the  death  of  Hedlor, 

'  The  unity  of  the  poem  cannot  arife  from  the  anger  only,  which  is  a 
quality,  and  which  can  only  be  confidered  as  the  caufe  of  the  adtion  to 
which  unity  is  necellary.  If  the  charadter  of  Achilles  which  is  anger, 
be  uniformly  kept  up  through  ten  different  adlions,  will  it  follow  that 
fuch  uniformity  will  be  fufficient  to  give  the  proper,  epic  unity  to  them 
all  ?  If  fo,  the  authors  of  the  Thefeid  and  the  Heracleid  were  right, 
who  thought  a  poem  poffeffed  a  proper  degree  of  unity  if  it  related  to 
one  perfon  [r]. 

Boffu  tries  to-  anfwer  the  objedlion  in  this  manner.     *  Thefe  two 
*■  parts  of  the  Iliad  are  joined  very  regularly.     If  Achilles  had  not  been 

[r]  Sec  Chap.  vm,. 

*'  incenfed; 


5-^4  A  ^QM-MENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.xxtk 

*  incenfed  againll;  Agamemnon,  he  would  have  fought  him.felf,  and  not 

*  have  expofed  his  friend  alone  againft  HeSor  in  his  armour,  which  was 

*  the  caufe  of  the  raflinefs  and  death  of  that  friend ;  and  further,  to 
'  blend  the  two  parts  better  with  each  other,  the  fecond  begins  a  long 

*  time  before  we  fee  what  will  be  the  end  of  the  firft.     All  the  condi- 

*  tions  of  reconciliation  are  propofed  on  the  part  of  Agamemnon,  before 
'  the  death  of  Patroclus,  and  even  before  he  thinks  of  engaging  in  the 

*  battle.     The  confent  of  Achilles  is  wanted  alone,  and  his  not  giving 

*  it  till  after  the  death  of  Patroclus  CQnne(3:s  it;  with  that  of  He<ftor  j  and 
'  we  may  truly  fay,  that  the  rage  and  vengeance  of  Achilles  againft 
'  Hecftor,  which  is  the  fecond  part  of  the  poem,_  is  the  only  caufe  of  the 

*  reconciliation  which  finifhes  the  firft  part.'  Treatise  on  the 
Epic  Poem,  Part  i.  Book  ii.  Chap.  vii. 

I  own  the  force  of  this  reafoning  does  not  ftrike  me.  If  any  event 
connected  even  intimately  with  the  cataftrophe,  which  is  the  foundation 
of  a  new  aftion,  however  congenial  with  the  former,  is  fufficient  to 
unite  the  two  aftions  fo  as  to  produce  the  epic  unity,  with  a  very  little 
management  the  Iliad  and  OdylTey  might  have  been  fo  united.  And  on 
this  principle  the  Fairy  Queen  may  be  called  a  regular  epopee. 

I  cannot  but.  think  the  reconciliation  of  Achilles  and  Agamemnon, 
however  brought  about,  is  the  folutlon  of  the  plot  of  the  Iliad  as  the 
death  of  Turnus  is  of  the  iEneid.  But  we  have  before  [s]  obferved, 
that  every  cataftrophe  muft  be  defedlive  which  leaves  us  in  doubt  as  to 
the  fate  of  the  principal  charadlers,  as  far  as  it  is  connecfted,  or  arifes 
from  the  ■^duon  ;  in  which  refpedl  the   cataftrophe  of  the  JEneid  is 

[s]  Note  I.  Chap.  vii. 

faulty. 


Note  v.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  545 

faulty.     This  error  Hoiiier,   who  judged   better  of  human   feelings, 
avoided.     In  the  words  of  Mr.  Hume,   '  Though  it  is  evident  that  in 

*  the  comrfe  of  his  narrative  he  exceeds  the  fud  propofition  of  his  fub- 

*  jed:,  and  that  the  anger  of  Achilles,  which  caufed  the  death  of  Hedlor, 

*  is  not  the  fame  with  tliat  which  produced  fo  many  ills  to  the  Greeks. 

*  Yet  the  flrong  connexion  between  thefe  two  movements,  the  quick 

*  tranllation  from  one  to  another,   the  contrafl  between  the  efFe<Sts  of 

*  concord  and  dilcord  among  the  princes,  and  the  natural  curiofity  wc 

*  have  to  fee  Achilles  in  adlion  after  fuch  long  repofe,  all  thefe  caufes 

*  carry  on  the  reader,  and  produce  a  fufficient  unity  in  the  fubjedu* 
HtJftrE's  Essay  on  the  x^ssociation  of  Ideas,  Sed:.  in. 

After  what  I  have  ikid  on  this  matter,  I  mufi  add,  that  though  I  can- 
not poffibly  agree  with  the  Stagirite,  in  thinking  that  the  Iliad  is  as 
much  the  imitation  of  one  ad:ion  as  the  nature  of  the  epopee  will  admit .; 
yet  I  by  no  means  wifh  it  other  than  it  is,  or  would  facrifice  the  {even 
laft  books  of  it  to  the  obfervation  of  any  critical  rule  whatever. 


-NOTE     V. 

IF    TRAGEDY    THEN    EXCELS    IN    ALL   THESE  CIRCUMSTANCES,    AS 
WELL    AS    IN     THE    EFFECT    WHICH     IT     IS    THE    PECULIAR    END 

OF    THE    POETIC    ART     TO    ATTAIN IT    WILL    CERTAINLY     BE 

MORE    EXCELLENT    THAN     THE    EPOPEE    FROM  ATTAINING   THE 
END    OF    THE    ART    ITSELF    MORE    EFFECTUALLY. 

VOLTAIRE,  who  is  never  fo  happy  as  when  he  can  with  any 
plaulibility  of  argument  oppole  any  opinion  that  is  generally  received  by 

4  A  the 


546  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxvr. 

the  literary  world,  and  efpecially  if  it  has  the  fandion  of  antiquity,  has 
chofen  to  attack,  the  pofition  laid  down  here  by  Ariflotle,  that  the  attain- 
ing a  propofed  end  effedlually,  is  any  fource  of  beauty  or  excellence. 

He  fays,  *  I  was  prefent  one  day  with  a  philofopher  at  the  perform- 

*  ance  of  a  tragedy.  "  How  fine  this  is  !"  Hud  he.  I  replied,  "  What 
"  ftrikes  you  as  being  fo  fine?"  Fie  anfwered,  "  The  author  has 
**  attained  his  end."     The   next  day  he  took  phyfic,   which  did  him 

*  good.  *'  Well,"  faid  I,  "  it  has  attained  its  end.  What  a  beautiful 
"  dofe  of  phyfic  !"     He  found  from  this  that  we  could  not  call  a  dofe 

*  of  phyfic  beautiful,  and  that  to  give  the  name  of  beautiful  to  a  thing, 

*  it  is  neceffary  that  it  fhould  excite  admiration  and  pleafure.     He  agreed 

*  that  the  tragedy  had  infpired  him  with  both  thofe  fenfations,  and  that 

*  in  this  confifted  TO  ptaXoV,  the  beautiful.. 

*  We  took  a  voyage  to  England.     We  there  law  the  fame  piece  per- 

*  formed,  perfedlly  tranflated.  It  fet  all  the  fpedlators  a  yawning.  "  O 
"I'ho,"  laid  he,  '*  I  fee  the  to  xaXoy  is  not  the  fame  for  the  Englifta  as 
•*i  for  the  French."  After  many  refledions,  he  concluded  that  the 
'  BEAUTIFUL  is  fomctimcs  very  relative,  as  what  is  decent  at  Japan  may 

*  be  indecent  at  Rome,  and  what  is  fafliionable  at  Paris  may  be  un- 
'  fafliionable  at  Pekin.  And  he  faved  himfelf  the  trouble  of  writing:  a 
'  long  treatife  on  the  beautiful.'  Questions  sur  l'Encyclo- 
TEDiE,  Art.  Beau. 

Voltaire  then  proceeds,  that  adions  and  fentiments  in  themfelves 
apparently  virtuous,  will  meet  with  univerfal  approbation,  but  that  the 
beautiful  and  the  excellent,  in  matters  of  tafle,  are  merely  arbitrary,  de- 
pending entirely  on  local  manners,  habits,  and  prejudices. 

Le 


Note  V.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  547 

Le  Pere  Brumoy  has  examined  this  fubjedt  -In  the  preface  to  his 
Theatre  des  Grecs,  where  this  reafoning  of  Voltaire  may  be  fairly  faid 
to  be  anfwered,  and  in  great  meafure  confuted,  though  the  publication 
of  Brumoy's  work  was  anterior  in  point  of  time  to  this  of  Voltaire. 
As  the  pafTage  of  Brumoy  is  drawn  to  fome  length,  I  fhall  juft  ftate 
the  heads  of  it,  leaving  thofe  who  wifli  to  fee  the  whole  of  the  argument 
to  recur  to  the  work  itfel£ 

He  firfl:  defines  truth  and  beauty,  as  far  as  regards  works  of  genius, 
like  tragedy,  to  be  fuch  an  imitation  of  nature,  as  fhall  afted:  the 
minds  of  a  poliihed  people  fo  that  they  may  from  their  natural  feelings 
fay  of  it,  *  This  is  confonant  with  truth ;  this  is  fine.'  He  fiys  a 
poliflied  people,  becaufe  in  fad  education  varies  the  intereft  and  objeds 
of  the  pallions.  And  in  this  he  is  certainly  i-ight,  though  Mr.  Voltaire 
chufes  to  fay  an  adion  really  and  eminently  virtuous  will  equally  be 
applauded  by  a  Savage,  a  Frenchman,  and  a  Chinefe.  Of  the  feelings 
of  the  firfl:  and  lafl:  I  can  fay  nothing.  As  to  the  fecond,  I  confefs  I 
entertain  no  very  high  opinion  of  their  tafl:e  for  the  fimple  and  natural 
truth  and  beauty  of  compofition,  though  I  do  not  fay  with  Voltaire  that 
they  are  a  nation  of  monkeys  and  tigers  [t]. 

But  if  I  take  the  educated  and  uneducated  of  my  own  country,  (and 
the  diftindion  is  necellary  in  all  countries,  for  no  man  who  can  read  a 
tragedy  will  keep  fheep  upon  Salilbury  plain,)  the  firfl:  will  fympathize 
with  fcenes  that  paint  to  him  events  of  real  exquifite  diftrefs,  of  which 
the  other,  however  good  and  honeft  he  may  be  in  his  fituation  of  life. 

It]  '  Ne  pourrais  je  fortir  au  plus  vite  de  ce  pays,  ou  Jes  finges,  agacent  les  tigres.' 

Candide,  Chap.  xxii. 

4.  A  2  can 


548  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap,  xxviv 

can  no  more  form  an  idea,  than  a  critic  whofe  opinions  are  fophifticated 
by  falfe  notions  of  refinement  can  form  of  the  truth,  the  beauty,  and 
the  fimplicity  of  natural  pictures,  of  human  adlions  and  paffions,  un^* 
adorned  by  meretricious  ornament. 

But  to  return  to  Brumoy.     He  exemplifies   the  difference  between 
natural  and  local  feelings,  by  an  analyfis  of  the  tragedy  of  Alceftes. 

*  If  Euripides,'  he  fliys,  '  has  drawn  in  that  work  a  true  piclure  of 

*  human  nature  j   if  he  awakens  our  fenfibility  for  the  tendernefs  of  a 

*  woman,  who  voluntarily  facrifices  her  own  life  to  prolong  that  of  her. 

*  hufband  ;  if  my  fenfes  are  deluded  by  the  moft  ftudied  exertion  of  art, 

*  without  that  art  being  apparent ;   if  he  offers  to  my  view  an  adlion  at 

*  the  fame  time  fimple,  connedled,  and  probable ;  if  he  leads  me  infen- 

*  fibly,  by  the  clue  of  my  feelings,  through  a  maze  of  paffion,  that 

*  continues  gradually  increafing  till  the  impreffion  is  perfe6t,  and  I  en- 
'  tirely  deliver  up  my  fenfations  to  the  illufion  of  the  feene,  I  become 

*  myfelf  an. Athenian  ;   I  cannot  refrain,  in  fpite  of  a  few  defed:s  in  the 
'  piece,   which  ftrike  me  as  well  as   the  reft  of  the  fpedtators,  from: 
'  joining  my  own  applaufe  to  thofe  of  Greece,  fince  being  a  man  like. 
'  the  Greeks,  I  muft  be  neceffarily  affedled  by  the  fame  truths,  and  the 

'  fame  beauties,  which  have  made  fo  lively  an  impreffion  on  them.' 

He  then  adds,  *  If  without  confidering  the  general  beauties  in  the 

*  piece,  which  mufl  affedt  us  as  men,  we  look  only  to  the  parts  which 
'  are  contrary  to  our  habits  and  manners  as  Frenchmen,  we  may  in- 

*  deed  exclaim,  "What  can  be  the  propriety  of  this  god,  who  is  the  flave 

*  of  a  man  j  this  infernal  deity  who  feizes  his  prize  j  this  law  autho- 
'  rized  by  Apollo,  that  the  old  fhould  die  for  the  young,  the  father  for 

*  the  fon  ?     What,  fliall  a  fon  lofe  his  refped  for  a  fiuher,  becaufe  he 

*  refufes 


Note  v.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  549 

*  refufes  to  fubmit  to  fuch  a  law  [u]  ?     What  (hall  wc  fay  of  Hercules 

*  getting  drunk  while  the  funeral  rites  of  Alceftes  are  performing  ?     Is 

*  there  any  fenfe  in  the  combat  between  Hercules  and  Death,  and  his 

*  recovering  Alceftes  from  him,  and  her  continuing  dumb  for  three  days 

*  afterwards  ?     All  this  will,  undoubtedly,  appear  ridiculous  and  abfurd. 

*  But  what  would  Euripides  fay,  were  he  to  be  prefent  at  the  reprefen- 

*  tation  of  Racine's  Iphigenia.     He  would  be  charmed  with  the  copy 

*  of  what  Greece  had  admired  in  the  original.     But   what  would  he 

*  have  faid  of  the  epifode  of  Eriphyle ;    of  the  French  gallantry  of 

*  Achilles  ;  of  the  threatened  duel ;  of  the  tete-a-tete  between  a  prince 

*  and  princefs  ;  and  Clytemneftra  falling  at  the  feet  of  Achilles  ?'     He 
concludes  the  argument  by  faying,  *  that  we  have  no  more  real  reafon 

*  to  be  fliocked  at  the  painting  of  Grecian  manners  as  they  were,  how- 

*  ever  ftrange  they  may  feem  to  us,  than  fucceeding  times  will  have  to 

*  think  our  cuftoms  extravagant,   becaufe  they  may  become  obfolcte. 
'•  The  decifion  of  juftice,  by  the  fword,  was  once  as  prevalent  in  Europe 

*  as  the  decifion  of  honor.     Why  may  they  not  in  fucceeding  times  be 

*  confidered  as  equally  abfurd  ?' 

In  all  probability  the  paiTages  in  the  French  writers,  which  occur  fo 
frequently  in  deification  of  monarchy,  will  be  as  difgufting  to  a  French 
audience  as  the  extraordinary  effufions  of  a  blind  loyalty,  exprefled  in  the 
Maid's  Tragedy,  the  Loyal  Subjedl,  and  Valentinian  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher  are  now  to  an  Englifli  one.  To  the  honor  of  Shakefpear  and 
his  royal  patronefs,  few  fuch  degrading  fentiments  occur  in  his  works. 
He  makes  a  virtuous  prince  hefitate  even  to  extend  mercy  to  one  he 
thinks  an  objedt  of  it, 

[u]  The  fcene  alluded  to  here  certainly  can  never  fall  under  the  circumflance  of  local 
impropriety  only.  The  perufal  of  it  muft  equally  Ihock  the  feelings  of  all  mankind,  what- 
ever their  country  or  education.     It  is  a  grofs  and  radical  defeft,  in  a  tragedy  w^hich  on  the 

whole  I  prefer  to  every  other  produflion  of  the  Greek  drama. 

*  Becaufe 


550  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE         Chap,  xxvi, 

—  *  Becaufe  it  is  againft  his  laws, 

*  Againft  his  crown,  his  oath,  his  dignity, 

*  Which  princes,  would  they,  may  not  difannul.' 

Comedy  of  Errors. 

As  le  Pere  Brumoy  has  not  chofen  to  give  the  decifion  of  Euripides  as 
to  Iphigenia  of  Racine,  I  will  take  the  liberty  of  doing  it  for  him.     *  I 

*  confefs,'  we  may  fuppofe  him  to  fay,   '  that  feme  of  your  cuftoms  and 

*  manners  feem  ftrange  to  me,  as  I  have  no  doubt  fome  of  ours  do  to 

*  you :  and  had  you  laid  the  fcene  at  Paris,  as  I  did  in  Greece,  adopting 

*  the  radical  manners  of  the  perfons  and  the  efTential  parts  of  the  fable, 

*  but  changing  the  names  and  local  cuftoms,  as  an  Englifh  poet  did  in 

*  regard  to  my  Alceftes  [u],  I  could  have  found  no  fault;  but  as  you  have 

*  chofen  to  keep  the  fame  ftory  and  names,  you  ought  to  have  given  the 

*  piece  alfo  Greek  manners.     The  cuftoms  of  Greece  are  too  well  known 

*  in  modern  Europe,  and  efpecially  in  a  neighbouring  illand,  a  formidable 

*  rival  to  you  in  arts'  as  well  as  in  arms,  not  to  make  this  condu<5t  in  ge- 

*  neral  ridiculous,  though  your  extreme  partiality  for  your  own  manners 

*  may  blind  you  to  it  [x].     You  have  broken  one  of  the  rules  of  Ari- 

*  ftotle,  to  which  you  afFedl  to  pay  fo  much  deference,  and  which  deferve 

*  it  when  they  are,  as  in  this  inftance,  drawn  from  truth  and  nature,  ex- 
'  cmplificd  in  tlic  works  of  the  beft  poets.     You  have  committed  an 

[u]  Thofflfon's  Edward  and  Eleonora. 

[x]  Thofe  who  will  be  more  inclined  to  believe  the  charadler  of  his  countrymen  given  by 
a  Frenchman,  as  to  this  particular,  than  by  Euripedes,  may  turn  to  the  eleventh  letter  of  M. 
Guy's  Voyage  Litteraire  de  la  Grece.  Speaking  of  Tournefort's  attempt  to  teach  a 
Greek,  chief  interpreter  to  the  Sultan,  the  true  pronunciation  of  his  own  language,  he  fays, 

*  There  fee  a  Frenchman,  who  would  give  the  ton  to  a  flranger  in  every  thing-' 

*  eflential 


Note  v.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  551 

'  eflential  error  in  point  of  manners ;  you  have  not  made  them  [y]  like  ; 

*  you  might  with  as  much  propriety  have  dreffed  Achilles  like  a  captain. 

*  of  grenadiers,  and  armed,  his  Myrmidons  with  firelocks.' 

To  return  to  the  pofition  of  Voltaire,  that  the  fitnefs  of  a  thing  to 
fulfil  its  end  efFedlually  has  no  influence  on  its  beauty ;  I  fliall  oppofe 
to  it  an  opinion  from  the  writings  of  a  man,  which  perhaps  may  have  as 
much  weight  with  fome  of  my  readers  as  thofe  of  the  philofopher  of 
Ferney,  though  they  may  not  be  in  general  quite  fo  popular  at  prefent. 
Cicero,  in   his   third  book  de  Oratore,  fays,  [z]  *  In  moft  things  it  is 

*  wonderfully  contrived  by  nature,  that  thofe  objedls  which  are  of  the 

*  greateft  utility,  fhould  poflefs  alfo,  not  only  the  greateft  dignity  but  often 

*  alfo  the  greateft  beauty  and  elegance.'     And  again  fpeaking  of  art  [a], 

*  What  are  fo  necelTary  in  navigation  as  the  fides  of  the  vefi"el,  the  keel, 

*  the  prow,  the  ftern,  the  yards,  the  fails,  the  mafts,  &c.  ?     And  yet  all 

*  thefe  have  fo  much  beauty  and  elegance  in  their  form,  that  they  feem 

*  as  much  invented  for  pleafure  as  for  utility.' 

To  leave  authority  let  us  confult  our  own  obfervation.  What  is  it  that 
pleafes  us  in  the  Farnefe  Hercules,  or  the  Apollo  Belvidere,  but  the  ap- 
pearance of  ftrength  in  the  one,  and  dignity  of  exprefiion  with  fymmetry 

[y]  To  ofAOiov.     '  Famam  fequere,'     See  Chap,  xv^ 

[zl  '  111  plerifque  rebus  incredibiliter  hoc  mtura  eft  ipfa  fabricata — ut  ea  quat  maximum 
'  utilitatem  in  fe  continerent,  eadem  haberent  plurimum  vel  dignitatis  vel  faspe  etiam  venuf- 

*  talis.* 

[a]  '  Qiiid  tarn  in  navigio  neceffarium  quam  latera,  quam  carinas,  quam  prora,  quani  pup- 

*  pis,  quam  antennae,  quam  vela,  quam  mah',    quam  reliqua  ?   quae  tamen  banc   habent   in 
'  fpecie  venuftatem,  ut  non  folum-falutis  fed  etiam  voluptatis  caufa  inventa  effe  videantur.' 

of 


552  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xxvi. 

of  form  indicating  adivity  in  the  other?  The  fame  may  be  applied  to 
animals.  When  we  admire  the  hunter,  the  charger,  and  the  racehorfe, 
the  greyhound  and  the  mailiff,  do  we  not  confider  their  iitnefs  to  excel  in 
the  feveral  exercifes  to  which  they  are  appropriated,  as  the  principal 
fource  of  their  beauty  ?  When  we  fpeak  of  a  fine  regiment  do  we  con- 
fider the  rapidity  yet  regularity  of  its  movement,  the  lleadiiiefs  of  its 
pofition,  the  clofenefs  of  the  fire,  and  the  exadnefs  of  the  aim  as  beau- 
tiful only  in  themlelves,  or  do  we  not  take  into  our  ideas  at  the  £ime 
time  their  ufe,  and  confider  them  as  carrying  deftrudion  and  terror  into 
the  ranks  of  the  enemies  of  their  country  ? 

Perhaps  this  is  no  where  more  evident  than  in  the  judgement  we  pafs 
on  female  beauty.  It  has  been  already  {lightly  alluded  [b]  to.  It  is  a 
delicate  fubjea:  to  inveftigate ;  and  I  ihall  rather  chufe  to  reft  my  argu- 
ment again  in  great  meafure  on  authority,  than  entirely  hazard  my  own 
opinion. 

The  elegant  author  of  the  Efiay  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful  [c]  has 
partly  adopted  the  fame  notion  with  Voltaire.     He  fays   '  our  notion 

•  of  fitnefs  has  nothing  to  do  with  beauty.'  But  I  think,  on  exa- 
mining what  he  fays  of  female  beauty,  it  will  be  found  that  fitnefs  has 
more  connexion  with  our  conceptions  of  it,  even  on  Mr.  Burke's  own 
principles,  than  he  chufes  to  allow.     *  If  beauty  (he  fays)  in  our  own 

*  fpecies   was  annexed  to  ufe,  men  would  be  much  more  lovely  than 

[b]  Note  II.  Chap.  vii. 

[c]  The  beautiful,  le  beau,  to  xxXovt  taken  in  the  general  fenfe  in  \tWch  the  cxprcf- 
fion  is  ufually  employed  in  fpealcing  of  poetry  and  the  other  congenial  arts,  comprehends  both 
the  sublime  and  beautiful,  as  dlftinguiftied  by  Mr.  Burke. 

*  women; 


Note  v.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE. 


553 


*  women ;  and  ftrength  and  agility  would  be  confidered  as  the  only 

*  beauties.  Essay  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful,  Part  iii. 
Sedl.  IV.  I  do  not  think  the  author  has  exacftly  confidered  the  different 
lights  in  which  we  fee  male  and  female  beauty ;  if  he  had,  perhaps  he 
would  not  have  been  fo  decided  in  this  opinion.  I  conceive  a  young 
officer  fees  his  company  and  his  miftrefs  exaftly  as  to  beauty  according 
to  their  fitnefs,  as  far  as  he  is  concerned  with  it.  Strength,  activity,  and 
height  are  the  chief  beauties  that  he  admires  in  the  men  whom  he  is  to 
lead  on  to  danger,  and  on  whofe  exertions  he  muft  depend  for  fafety, 
honor  and  vidlory :  delicacy,  foftnefs,  in  a  word,  beauty,  as  applied  by 
way  of  eminence  to  perfection  in  the  female  form,  in  the  woman  who 
is  the  objedl  of  that  paffion  which  is  ffronger  and  dearer  than  fafety, 
honor,  or  vidory. 

Mr.  Burke  proceeds.     *  I  appeal  to  the  firft  and  moft  natural  feelings 

*  of  mankind,  whether  on  beholding  a  beautiful  eye,  or  a  well-falLioned 

*  mouth,  or  a  well-turned  leg,  any  ideas  of  their  being  well  fitted  for 

*  feeing,  eating,  or  running  ever  prefent  themfelves.'  Certainly  no. 
But  if  I  have  not  fufficiently  explained  myfelf  in  the  obfervation  imme- 
diately preceding  this  quotation.  Dry  den  fliall  do  it  for  me.  Celadon  in 
the  Maiden  Queen,  after  kiffing  a  lady,  fays,   '  Ay,  marry !   this  was  the 

*  original  ufe  of  lips  ;   talking,  eating,  and  drinking  came  in  by  the  bye.' 

Mr.  Burke  fays  again.  Part  iii.   Seft.  xv.      '   Obferve  that  part  of  a 

*  beautiful  wom.an  where  perhaps  fhe  is  moft  beautiful,  about  her  neck 

*  and  breafts  :  the  fmoothnefs,  the  foftnefs,  the  ealy  and  infenfible  fwell, 

*  the  variety  of  the  furface  which  is  never  for  the  fmalleft  fpace  the  fame, 

*  the  deceitful  maze  through  which  the  unfteady  eye  Aides  giddily  with- 
'  out  knowing  where  to  fix,  or  whither  it  is  carried !' 

4  B  This 


554  A  COxMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.  xxvi. 

This  is  warm  painting,  and  fpeaks  to  the  feelings,  I  believe,  both  of 
reader  and  writer.  But  Ovid  I  think  has  clearly  fliewn  its  end  by  this 
verfe, 

'  Forma  papillarum  quam  fuit  apta  premi/ 

If  the  beauty  of  this  enchanting  objedl  depended  on  the  circumftances 
of  its  form  only,  as  defcribed  in  the  glowing  colors  of  the  writer,  inde- 
pendent of  any  other  fenfation,  it  would  in  every  cafe  be  equally  pleafing. 
But  I  conceive  it  will  be  fufficiently  obvious  to  every  man  who  will  a{k 
himfelf  the  queftion,  that  this  form  lovely  and  enchanting  as  it  is  where 
nature  has  placed  it,  would  have  no  fuch  extraordinary  and  felf-evident 
beauty  as  the  critic  has  afcribed  to  it,  in  any  other  fituation. 

The   fubjedl  is  refumed  in  Part  iii.  Sedl.  xvi.     *  The  beauty  of 

*  women  is  [d]  confiderably  owing  to  their  weaknefs  and  delicacy,  and  is 

*  ever  enhanced  by  their  timidity,  a  quality  of  mind  analogous  to  it.     I 

*  would  not  here  be  underflood,  that  weaknefs  betraying  very  bad  health 
'  has  any  ihare  in  beauty ;  but  the  ill  effeft  of  this  is  not  becaufe  it  is 

*  weaknefs,  but  becaufe  the  ill  flate  of  health  which  produces  fuch  weak- 

*  nefs  alters  the  other  conditions  of  beauty.     The  parts  in  fuch  a  ftate 

*  colhpfe,  the  bright  color,  the  lumen  purpureum  juventze,  is  gone,  and 

*  the  fine  variation  is  loft  in  wrinkles,  fudden  breaks,  and  right  lines.' 

I  think  if  Mr.  Burke  had  not  been  led  away  by  hypothefis  he  would 
not  have  ended  his  argument  by  that  figure  which  is  now  called  a  trueifm. 
If  ill  health  produces  the  confequences  of  old  age,  the  effedls  will  be 
the  fame  on  the  beauty  of  a  female  form.     But  I  contend,  that  without 

[dJ  Sec  Note  ii.  Chap.  vii. 

this 


NoTEV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  555 

this  effe^fl  knguor  produced  by  ficknefs  will  deftroy  female  beauty. 
[e]  Delicacy,  foftnefs,  effeminacy,  are  great  and  cffential  beauties  in  a 
woman,  both  in  her  form  and  manners ;  even  languor  has  its  enchant- 
ments: but  the  irrftant  we  know,  or  fancy  even,  that  thefe  proceed  from 
ill  health,  the  charm  is  broken  -,  the  perfon  may  be  an  objed  of  our  pity, 
our  efteem,  or  even  our  love,  taken  in  its  cooler  fenfe,  but  ceafes  to  be 
the  obiedl  ofourpaffion.     Shenftone  juftly  obferves,  '  Health  is  beauty, 

*  and  the  moft  perfedl  health  the  moft  perfed:  beauty.     A  florid  look  to 

*  appear  beautiful  muft  be  the  bloom  of  health  and  not  the  glow  of  a 

*  fever.'  Whence  arifes  it,  that  the  fame  appearance  fhould  be  either 
beautiful  or  difgufting  according  to  the  caufes  from  which  it  arifes  ?  The 
anfwer  I  think  compleatly  eftablifhes,  in  this  cafe  at  leafl:,  the  pofition  of 
Ariftotle.  For  ficknefs  mufl  always  be  attended  with  circumftances  very 
unfavourable  to  the  ideas  of  a  lover.     The  ladies  are  fometimes  apt  to 


[e]  '  Voici  une  confequence  de  la  conftitution  des  fexes;  c'efl:  que  le  plus  fortfoitleniaitre 

*  en  apparence,  et  depende  en  efFet  du  plus  foible,  et  cela,  non  par  un  frivole  ufage  de  galan- 

*  terie,  ni  par  une  orgueilleufe  generofite,  de  protefteur,  mais  par  une  invariable  loi  de  la  na- 
'  tare  qui  donnant  a  la  femme  plus  de  facilite  d'exciter  les  defirs  qu'  a  Fhomme  de  les  fatisfaire, 
'  fait  dependre  celui  ci  malgre  qu'il  en  ait,  du  bon  plaifir  de  I'autre,  et  le  contraint  de  chercher 
'  a  fon  tour  a  lui  plaire,  pour  obtenir  qu'elle  confente  a  le  laifTer  etre  le  plus  fort.  Alors  ce 
<  qu'il  y  a  de  plus  doux  pour  I'homme  dans  fa  vidtoire,  eft  de  douter  fi  c'eft  la  foiblelTe  qui 

*  cede  a  la  force,  ou  fi  c'eft  la  volonte  qui  fe  rende ;  et  la  rufe  ordinaire  de  la  femme  eft  de 

*  laifTer  toujours  ce  doute  entre  elle  et  lui,     L'efprit  des  femmes  reponde  en  ceci  parfaitement 

*  a  leur  conftitution  :  loin  de  rougir  de  leur  foibleffe,  elks  en  font  gloire;  leurs  tendres  mufcles 

*  font  fans  refiftance ;  elles  afferent  de  ne  pouvoir  foulever  les  plus  legers  fardeaux ;  elles  au- 

*  roient  honte  d'etre  fortes ;  pourquoi  cela  ?  ce  n'eft  pas  feulement  pour  paroitre  delicates, 
■*  c'eft  par  une  precaution  plus  adroite ;  elles  fe  menagent  de  loin  des  excufes,  et  le  droit  d'etre 
'  foibles  au  befoin.'     Emile,  Tome  ii.  Partie  ii. 

4  B  2  miflake 


556  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap. xxvi. 

miftake  this  in  regard  to  themlelves,  but  I  believe  it  never  efcapes  their 
pbfervaticn  with  refpedl  to  ourfex[F]. 

After  all,  there  is  fomething  fo  problematical  in  this  fubjedt, 
and  fo  many  circumftances  occur  that  militate  againft  the  hypothefis 
I  have  advanced,  that  I  by  no  means  hazard  what  I  have  faid  as  a 
decided  opinion.  That  all  utility  is  not  beauty  will  be  obvious  from 
many  circumftances.  That  fometimes  even  it  is  in  diredt  oppofition  to  it 
is  equally  obvious.  There  is  perhaps  no  profpeft  fo  difpleafing  as  that  of 
a  newly  enclofed  country,  efpecially  if  enclofed  by  flone  walls,  which  are 
particularly  calculated  to  anfwer  their  purpofe.  Every  man  of  tafte  will 
exclaim  with  the  poet, 

'  What  joy  the  country's  native  form  to  fee, 

*  From  ploughs,  and  aught  of  human  culture  free  [g].* 

Enclofures  have  their  beauties,  but  it  is  when  the  fcene  of  cultivation 
is  concealed  by  the  luxuriant  foliage  of  the  irregular  hedges,,  and  the  trees 
whofe  fhade  injures  the  growth  of  the  fences,  but  gives  to  the  whole 
country  an  appearance  of  forefl. 

[f]  We  muft  however  here  take  info  our  account  the  difguft  we  receive  from  weaknefs  and 
delicacy  in  men  from  wfhatever  caufe  it  arifes ;  but  this  is  becaufe,  like  rough  manners  in  a  woman, 
they  are  out  of  charadler.  Effeminacy  in  the  form  of  a  man  can  only  be  fully  obviated  by  a 
behaviour  perfectly  manly,  and  a  profeflion  of  danger  and  fatigue,  the  merit  of  which  may  then 
even  be  heightened  by  the  contraft.  We  view  with  particular  complacency  the  condutSl  of  a 
youth,  who, 

*  When  he  might  a£l  the  woman  in  the  fcene, 

'  Has  proved  beft  man  i'  the  field.'  Coriolanus. 

[g]  '  Juvat  arva  videre 

'  Non  raftris,  hominum  non  ulli  obnoxia  curae.  Virgil. 

The  intended  alteration  of  New  Forefl:  may  add  to  its  utility,  but  it  certainly  will  be  at  the 
cxpcncc  of  its  beauty. 

Ia 


NoTEV.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  ^^y 

In  this  concluding  paflnge  Ariftotle  fairly  avows:  that  predilecStion 
for  tragedy,  which  he  partly  opened  very  early  in.  this  treatife  [h],  and 
which  he  has  been  gradually  preparing  us  for,  throughout  the  whole 
courfe  of  the  work. 

Neverthelefs,  the  decided  fuperiority  over  the  epopee  which  Ariftotle 
has  here  given  to  tragedy,,  has  not  been  confirmed  by  the  general  fuffrage 
of  mankind.  But  then  it  muil  be  allowed,  they  have  not  judged  it  on 
the  fame  principles..  General  criticifm  has  pronounced  (and  I  think  very 
juflly)  that  a  good  epopee  is  the  higheft  effort  of  human  genius.  It  is 
certain  that  an  epic  poem  affords  room  for  the  exertion  of  every  power  of 
the  mind;  and,  as  Johnfon  obferves  in  his  life  of  Milton,  •  The  firfl  praife 

*  of  genius  is  due  to  the  writer  of  an  epic  poem,  as  it  requires  an  alTem- 
'  blage  of  all  the  powers  which  are  fingly  fufficient  for  other  compofition.' 

To  account  for  Ariftotle's  decinon,  I  imagine  he  confidered  the  compa- 
rative merit  of  the  epopee  in  a  different  light;  that,  I  mean,  of  its  abi- 
lity to  attain  effedually  its  purpofed  end.  What  this  end  is,  has  no 
where  been  mentioned.  Mr.  Twining  fuppofes  it  to  be  *  the  produc- 
'  tion  of  admiration  by  a  grandeur  of  delign,  and  variety  of  important 

*  incidents   fuftained  by  all  the  energy  and  minute  particularity  of  de- 

*  fcription'  (note  277).  I  readily  agree  that  thefe  are  the  means  of 
adorning  the  parts  which,  taken  together,  conduce  to  the  end,  and  which 
may  be  compared  with  the  mufic  and  the  [i]  fcenery  of  tragedy.     But 

on 

[h]  See  the  conclufion  of  the  fifth  chapter. 

[i]  Fielding  puts  this  analogy  into  the  mouth  of  Parfon  Adams.     '  I  fhall  mention  but  one 

*  thing  more  which  that  great  critic  (Ariftotle,  Ch.  vi.)  in  his  divilion  of  tragedy,  called  the 

'  opfis 


55'8  A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xxvf. 

on  examining  the  words  of  Ariftotle,  we  can  I  think  by  no  means  con- 
fider  them  in  his  idea^  as  being  the  end  of  the  epopee  in  the  fame  manner 
that  the  exciting  pity  and  terror  is  the  end  of  tragedy  [k].     If  the  end  to 
be  attained  by  each  poem  were  to  be  diilindl,  how  could  we  poffibly  judge 
of  their  comparative  merit,  unlefs  he  had  fliewn  us  particularly  what  was 
the  diftinft  end  of  the  epopee  ?     In  which  cafe  tlieir  excellence  muft  have 
been  determined  by  one  of  thefe  circumftances.     Either  the  epopee  muH 
have  been  (hewn  not  to  have  powers  fo  adequate  to  execute  its  own  pe- 
culiar defign,  as  thofe  of  tragedy  were  to  excite  pity  and  terror:  or  elfe 
.feme  reafon  muft  be  given,  why  the  end  of  one  was  in  itfelf  fuperior  to 
the  other.     But  the  argument  all  along  refts  on  the  deficiency  of  the 
means;  and  this  .deficiency  of  the  means  is  expreflly  faid  to  arife  from  the 
.epopee  not  being  fo  comprefled  as  tragedy ;  on  which  account  tragedy 
becomes  more  interefling  [l]  than  if  it  were  extended  through  a  longer 
fpace  of  time.     This  manifeflly  proves  a  great  fimilarity,  if  not  an  ab- 
folute  identity  in  the  end  of  both.     And  if  grandeur  of  defign,  variety  of 
incidents,  and  minutenefs  of  defcription  were  confidered  as  the  deftined 
objed;  of  the  epopee,  there  could  have  been  no  oppofition  between  their 

•  opfis  or  feenery,  and  which  is  as  proper  to  the  epic  as  to  the  drama  with  this  difference,  that  in 
'  the  former  it  falls  to  the  (hare  of  the  poet,  and  in  the  latter  to  that  of  the  painter.'  Joseph 
Andrews,  Book  iii.  Chap.  ii.  In  the  fame  fpeech  he  (ays,  '  neither  Ariftotle  nor  Horace 
'  give  it  (the  Iliad)  any  preference,  as  I  remember,  to  the  Odyfley.'     See  Note  i.  on  Chap. 

XXIV. 

[k]  Ariftotle  exprefsly  fays  in  the  beginning  of  the  twenty-fourth  chapter,  that  except  the 
mufic  and  feenery,  the  parts  of  the  epopee  and.  tragedy  arc  the  fame ;  and  that  they  both  fhould 
poffefs  peripetia,  difcovcry  and  pathos  :  now  it  is  obvious  that  pity  and  terror,  the  production  of 
which  is  declared  to  be  the  defign  and  end  of  tragedy,  muft  be  derived  from  thefe  three  cir- 
cumftances. 

[l]  ri'J'ieii'.      See  Note  ill.  Chap.  xi.x. 

merits 


NoTEv.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  559 

merits  in  this  cafe,  fmce  dilation  would  be  as  abfolutely  and  indifpen- 
fibly  neceffary  to  produce  the  pleafure  which  [m]  ought  to  rife  from  one 
fpecies  of  imitation,  as  compreffion  would  to  that  of  the  other. 

I  think  the  laft  paragraph  of  what  may  be  called  the  work  itfelf, 
eftablilhes,  almoft  beyond  a  doubt,  that  Ariftotle  confidered  the  end  of 
both  kinds  of  compofition  as  the  fame.  This  I  will  quote  in  the  words  of 
Mr.  Twining's  tranflation,  as  it  not  only  gives  a  ftronger  fupport  to  this 
opinion  than  mine,  but  mufl  be  entirely  free  from  any  fuppofed  bias  to- 
wards an  hypothecs  which  he  himfelf  oppofes. 

*  If  then  tragedy  be  fuperior  to  the  epic  in  all  thefe  refpedls,  and  alfo 

*  in  the  peculiar  end  at  which  it  aims  [n]  (for  each  fpecies  ought  to  af- 

*  ford,  not  any  kind  of  pleafure  indifcriminately,  but  fuch  only  as  has 

*  been  pointed  out)  it  evidently  follows,  that  tragedy,  as  it  attains  more 

*  efFedlually  the  end  of  the  art  itfelf,  muft  defer ve  the  preference.' 

As  we  are  referred  here  to  what  has  been  before  pointed  out,  what 
can  this  be,  except  that  mentioned  in  Mr.  Twining's  note  ?  or  how  can 
it  EVIDENTLY  FOLLOW,  that  tragedy  deferves  the  preference  from  attain- 
ing the  end  of  the  [o]  art  itself  more  effedlually,  if  Ariflotle  has  not 

Fm]    Aer  yap  a  tyu/  ru^ntrom  rtSovnv  zroiiiv  aJraj j  xKXoi  rni/  J(f))jU£^w. 

[n]  That  is,  *  according  to  Ariftotle's  principles,  to  give  "  that  pleasure  which  arises 
"  FROM  PITY  AND  TERROR  THROUGH  IMITATION."  '  See  p.  go.  (Ch.  XIV.  of  the  Original 
'  and  my  tranflation).'     This  is  Mr.  Twining's  note. 

[o]  Either  of  the  poetic  art  in  general,  or  of  tragedy  alone,  Mr.  Twining  I  imagine  under- 
flands  it  here  in  the  laft  fenfe. 

informed 


56o  A  COMAIENTARY  ON  THE        Chap.  xxvi. 

informed  us  of  what  he  efleems  to  be  the  peculiar  end  of  the  epic 
imitation  ? 


This  ultimate  decifion  of  Ariftotle  in  favor  of  tragedy,  does  not  how- 
ever fatisfy  Metaftafio,  who  certainly  ranks  very  high  among  the  dra- 
matic writers  of  the  prefent  age.     He  fays,  *  I  do  not  know  why  Ari- 

*  ftotle  has  been  here  filent  on  the  greateil  merit  of  the  tragic  poet :  I 

*  mean  that  of  fulfilling  while  he  is  writing,  the  indifpenfible  duty  of 

*  diverting  himfelf  entirely  of  his  own  ideas,  and  never  fpeaking  from 

*  his  own  heart,  but  always  from  that  of  another :  aii  art  which  implies 

*  a  knowledge  very  difficult  to  acquire,  and  an  uncommon  adlivity  of 

*  powers  to  afTume  at  pleafure  the  charadler,  that  is  to  fay,  the  difpo- 

*  fition  of  mind  of  the  perfon  introduced  :  an  art  that  produces  the  moll 

*  exquifite  of  all  pleafures,  while  it  renders  vifible  the  different  internal 

*  changes  of  the  affeftions  of  the  human  foul  in  different  individuals, 

*  with  which  the  poet,   being  himfelf  thoroughly  poffeffed  accordingly 

*  as  the  particular  cafe  happens  to  require,  has  the  power  alfo  of  polIefTrng 

*  the  minds  of  his  fpedtators,  and  drawing  them  with  him,  by  a  kind  of 

*  pleafing  enchantment,  wherever  he  chufes :    an  art  taught  us  in  a 

*  mallerly  manner  by  Horace,  in  his  Art  of  Poetry. 

[p]  "  Non  fatis  pulchra  effe  poemata  dulcia  funto, 

*'  Et  quocunque  volent  animum  auditoris  agunto." 

*  An 

[p]  See  Note  in.  Chap.  xix.  It  is  fomething  whimfical  that  the  Roman  poet  fhould  in- 
clude this  precept  in  a  rhymed  couplet;  and  an  Italian,  a  profcficd  enemy  to  blank  vcrfe,  ftiould 
have  adopted  that  verfe  in  his  tranflation.  Is  not  tliis  a  ftrong  inftance  of  pofliblc  improbability  ? 
Metaftafio's  tranflation  is 

'  Che  la  fola  belta  pregio  baftante 

*  D'un  Poema  non  e,  fenza  quel  dolcc 


Note  v.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  561 

'  An  art  indeed  fo  ncceflary  to  the  tragic  poet,  that  its  being  ncglcdled 

•  hy  the  great  Torquato  Taffo,  has  rendered  him  as   much  inferior  to 
'  himfelf  in  his  Torifmond,  as  in  his  immortal  Godfrey  he  is  fuperior 

*  to  every  other  poet.'     Estratto  df.lla  Poetica,  page  361. 

But  though  Ariftotle  has  omitted  to  mention  this  requifite  in  his  con- 
cluding comparifon,  he  has  not  forgot  it  in  the  courfe  of  the  Poetic. 
In  Chap.  xvn.  he  infifls  ftrongiy  on  this  effential  duty  of  the  tragic 
poet,  but  the  reafon  why  he  does  not  mention  it  here  may  be  his  efl:eem- 
ing  it  equally  effential  to,  and  equally  attainable  by,  the  epic  poet :  fince 
in  Chap.  xxiv.  he  particularly  commends  Homer  for  divefting  himfelf 
of  his  own  character  in  his  poems.  And  his  words  [p],  taken  by  them- 
felves  in  their  obvious  and  literal  fenfe,  give  him  the  preference  in  this 
refpedl  to  all  poets  whatever,  whether  epic,  or  dramatic,  though  the 
context  I  think  confines  it  to  the  former. 

Experience  however  feems  to  confirm,  in  fome  degree,  the  diflindion 
of  Metaflafio.  We  have  no  opportunity  of  judging  how  Homer  would 
have  fucceedcd  in  the  drama,  as  that  fpecies  of  imitation  was  not  in- 
vented when  he  lived ;  but  undoubtedly  we  may  pronounce  from  our 
own  feelings  that  the  mofl  pathetic  parts  of  his  epopees,   beautiful  as 

♦  Incanto  feduttor,  che  in  mille  affettl 

•  A  voglio  fuo  lo  fpettator  trafporta.' 

This  tranflation  affords  a  ftrong  proof  of  the  power  the  Italian  language  poffeffes  beyond 
our  own  in  inverting  the  order  of  the  words :  a  great  advantage  in  verfification,  and  efpeci- 
ally  in  blank  veife.     See  Note  vi.  Chap.  xxii. 

fpj  fcsKjf  run  TroiJiTcof,  ax  ayyofi  o  Su  woiTiv  ceuTsc. 

4  C  they 


5-62  A  tOMMENTARY  ON  THE       Chap.xxvi. 

they  are,  can  b"y  hb-ffieatis  bear  any  comparifon  as  to  their  efFedt  on  the 
paffions  with  the  tragedies  of  Sophocles  and  Euripides,  however  fuperior 
we  muft  allow  them  to  be  in  every  other  refpeft.     Metaftafio  has  juft 
fliewn  the  inferiority  of  Taflb  to  himfelf  in  his  attempt  at  the  drama. 
Milton  feems  ftrongly  to  fuggeft  the  fame  idea  as  well  in  Sampfon  Ago- 
Hifles  as  in  the  mode  he  recommends  to  be  purfued  in  the  arrangement 
of  fome  of  thofe  ftories  which  he  has  feleded  from  our  own  annals  as 
proper  fubje£ls  for  tragedy  [q^].     And  as  to  the  comic  epopee,  and 
comedy,  we  have  fuch  an  inftance  of  this  deficiency  in  one  compofition 
with  the  higheft  degree  of  excellence  in  the  other,  in  one  of  our  own 
writers,  as  to  be  quite  wonderful.     I  mean  Fielding.     Who  to  read  his 
novels   would  fuppofe  him  not  capable  of  entering  enough  into  the 
charaders  of  the  perfons  he  delineates  for  the  purpofe  of  the  drama  ? 
Yet  that  it  is  fo,  feems  abfolutely  certain  from  his  dramatic  attempts. 
Since  therefore  nothing  but  experience  could  have  fliewn  us  the  inability 
of  Fielding  to  produce  dramatic  effedl  [r],  it    is  impoffible  for   us  to 
infer  what  might  have  been  the  fuccefs  of  Homer  or  Virgil  had  they 
attempted  tragedy;  for  who  could  have  believed,  had  not  the  proof 
been  before  our  eyes,  that  the  author  of  Jofeph  Andrews  and  Tom 
Jones  was  incapable  of  writing  a  tolerable  comedy? 

-''TQ^]  Of  ^11  ^l^^fs'  ^"^  ^"^^"  "^°^  '"  "^^'^'^  °"  *^  ^°''y  of  A'f'''^'^'  ^^"^^  ^^  obferves  with  a 
iiatural  bias  to  his  own  peculiar  excellence,  would  be  a  proper  fubjcd  for  an  heroic  poem. ,  , 

'-'[r]  See  Beattie  on  Mufic  and  Poetry,  Part  i.  Chap.  v.  p.  Hi,  note,  A  French  critic 
.has  made  the  fame  obfervation  on  Voltaire.  M.  Linguet,  in  his  Critical  Analyfis  of  his 
Works,  fays,  (peaking  of  his  comedies,  '  In  his  romances,  in  his  tales,  in  his  difculTions, 
,'  apparently  of  the  moft  ferious  nature,  we  meet  with  fallies  which  excite  burfts  of  laughter, 
'  or  fly  ftrokes  of  wit  which  afford  a  more  refined,  though  a  lefs  fenfible  gratification.  But 
'his  comedies  are  very  far  from  poffefling  either  of  thefe  excellencies.' 

Yet 


Note  V.  POETIC  OF  ARISTOTLE.  ^^2 

•^''Yet  though  the  drama  has  the  fuperiority  in  point  of  intereft,  perhaps 
the  epopee  has  it  in  many  other  inftances.  And  certainly  it  requires 
greater  fkill  in  the  poet  to  excite  the  neceffary  intereft,  however  inferior, 
if!  fo  long  and  various  a  compofition  as  the  epopee,  than  the  ftrongeft 
de<^ree  of  it  in  the  fliorter  and  fimpler  form  of  the  drama.  Befides,  the 
epopee  depends  more  on  itfelf ;  the  poet  is  at  the  fame  time  poet,  adlor, 
and  manager.  He  not  only  furnifhes  the  piece,  but  the  theatrical,  appa- 
ratus. If  the  dramatic  poet  attains  his  end  more  efFedually,  he  alfo 
attains  it  more  eafily.  It  undoubtedly  requires  a  greater  genius  to  write 
a  good  epic  poem  than  a  good  tragedy.  The  examples  of  one  are  be- 
yond comparifon  more  frequent  than  thofe  of  the  other.  A  drama  may 
be  very  affeifling  and  very  ill  written.  As  iEfchylus,  Sophocles,  and 
!Euripides,  are  never  mentioned  in  competition  with  Homer,  or  Seneca 
with  Virgil,  fo  neither  are  Southern,  Otway,  or  Rowe  with  Milton, 
with  Dryden,  (who  could  not,  or  at  leaft  did  not,  write  a  good  play)  or 
■with  Pope.  Shakefpear  is  indeed  almoft  an  exception  to  this  rule  as  he 
is  to  every  other.  Like  the  phoenix  he  is  himfelf  a  fpecies  and  not  an 
individual.  To  compare  him,  in  point  of  general  merit,  with  any  of 
our  other  dramatic  writers,  would  be  abfurdity  in  the  higheft  degree. 
Yet  if  merit  is  to  be  decided  even  in  one  drama  compared  with  another, 
folely  on  its  producing  its  deftined  end  by  exciting  the  paffions  in  the 
ftrongeft  degree,  I  believe  Mrs.  Siddons  has  afFe<fted  the  feelings  of  the 
audience  in  a  much  higher  degree  in  the  Ifabella  of  Southern,  and  the 
Belvidera  of  Otway,  than  Garrick  ever  could  in  the  Lear,  or  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons in  the  Conftance,  or  the  Defdemona  of  Shakefpear.  Of  the  other 
writings  of  Shakefpear  we  can  only  fay  they  are  in  no  degree  to  be 
mentioned  with  his  dramatic  writings.  But  his  dramatic  writings,  if 
they  do  not  come  up  to  that  point  of  pathetic  intereft,  which  inferior 
writers  are  fometimes  able  to  attain,  and  in  which  Ariftotle  gives  the 
^ '  4  C  2  preference 


^64  A  COMMENTARY,  &c.  Chap.xxvi. 

preference  to  Euripides  over  all  the  other  dramatic  writers  of  Greece, 
(though  ftrongly  as  he  infifts  on  this  particular  fpecies  of  excellence,  he 
feems  in  general  to  efteem  him  inferior  to  Sophocles,)  they  poffefs 
excellence  of  another  kind  in  a  very  fuperior  degree.  The  dramatic 
w^ritings  of  Shakefpear  contain  all  the  variety,  the  minute  defcription, 
and  the  fcenery,  independent  of  reprefentation,  which  we  find  in  the 
epopee,  both  ferious  and  comic  united.  And  to  this  is  joined  the  inte- 
refting  detail,  and  exadt  delineation  of  the  drama,  as  well  as  that  com- 
preffion  both  of  compofition  and  incident,  by  which  the  connexion  of 
the  events  is  fo  much  more  clearly  comprehended,  and  their  effed:  fo 
much  lefs  divided  in  the  drama  than  the  epopee.  And  poffeffing  in  a 
high  degree  the  qualities  of  the  epic  poet,  he  has  been  able  to  exhibit 
models  to  future  dramatic  poets  both  in  comedy  and  tragedy,  without 
having  read  .the  Iliad  or  the  Odyffey,  or  heard  of  the  Margites. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


TO     THE 


COMMENTARY. 


Absurdity,  inftaiices  of,         572 

Achilles,  the  poetical  goodnefs  of  his  cha- 

ra<Ser  vindicated  -  -  34.1 

— ,  obfervation  of  Plutarch  on-his  fingle 

combat  with  Heftor  -  486 

. — ,  Plutarch  miftakes  his  motive     487 

Accent,  fome  obfervations  011,  asdiftinguiflied 

from  quantity  -  -  396 

Acts,  number  of  them  arbitrary         -       214 

,  perhaps  three  better  than  five  216 

Addison  gives  a  happy  cataftrophe  to  Cato 

226 
Andrews's  Anecdotes  177,  384,  438  [z] 

Anecdote  of  a  failor  belonging  to  the  Royal 

George  wrhen  fhe  funk  -  264  [g] 

. of  ^fchyjus  and  Euripides  234 

of  Polus  a  Greek  a£i:or         -       364 

of  the  American  favages  486 

Anstey,  Mr.  his  excellent  ufe  of  charaiSleri- 

ftic  names  in  the  Bath  Guide  188 

Anthony,   what  would  probably  have  been 

Ariftotlc's  opinion  of  him  as  a  dramatic  cha- 

radter  -  -  249 

Arabian  Nights,  their  fpecies  of  unity  438 

,  their  authenticity       439 

Arbuthnot,  his  ludicrous  account  of  Burnet's 

death  -  -  124 

Ariosto  adopts  the  eaftern  fpecies  of  unity  ib. 

Artaxerxes,  oper^of,  its  finale       384  [z] 


Article  does  not  always  make  a  fubftantive 
of  the  gerund  to  which  it  is  prefixed        404 

As  You  Like  It,  Dr.  Johnfon's  remark  on 
its  conclufion  -  -  174 

Astronomy  deals  fometimes  in  the  marvellous 

493  [vj 


B 


Bacon,  Lord,  hispraife  of  poetry  185 

Beattie,  Dr.  his  illuftration  of  poetical  ar- 
rangement -  -  i7o[b] 

,  his  criticifm  on  the  death  of  Love- 
lace -  -  268 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  their  invidious 
cenfure  of  Shakefpear  -  210 

— ^— ,  their  Wife  for 

a  Month  -  -  266 

■    their    Cupid's 

Revenge  -  -  453 

Beauty  not  inconfiftent  with  magnitude  179 

■  in  women  conne£led  with   fize    and 

ftrength  by  the  Greeks  -  178 

incompatibje  with  appa- 
rent ill  health  -  -  554 

Blank  verse  fitted  for  the  drama  120 

,  diftinftion  between  epic  and 

dramatic  -  -  ib. 

fit  for  defcriptive  poetry      470 

Blank 


INDEX. 


BtANK  VERSE  compared  with  rhyme  as  to  its 
fitnds  for  a  tranflation  of  Homer,,  or  for 
epic  poetry  in  general  -  473 

compared  with  rhyme,  by  Ad- 

difon  and  Beattie  -  484 

fioDKiN  does  not  mean  dagger  in  the  celebrated 
fpeech  of  Hamlet  -  425 

Burke,  Mr.  fome  of  his  opinions  on  the  fu- 
blime  and  beautiful  examined         -         i8o- 

— — — ,  his  idea  that  beauty  does  not  depend 
on  utility  -  -  552 

mo  no  efeib  ioipsniowl  bsoubonlm 

Caliban,  a  more  natural  character  than  Sir 
Charles  Grandifon  .:A.^i.iq  ,  ^24 

Camera  oBscuRA,  its  efFe£t  -         110 

Cards,  Pinto's  notion  of  their  efficacy  in 
bluntiag  the  paflions  -  150 

Catastrophe.  The  Iliad  and  Odyfley  feem 
fpun  out  beyond  it.  The  ^^neid  to  clofe  be- 
fore it  is  complete  -  175 

— — ,    unhappy,     the    preference 

given  it  by  Ariftotle  examined  259 

— ftiould  not  arife  from  accident 

268 

■        . or  from  change  of  charafter 

336 

Cecilia,  remark  on  -  453 

Character  of  Lovelace  and  Grandifon    232 

.  too  perfect,  not  interefting      239 

Chatham,  late  Earl  of,  when  Mr.  Pitt 
quotes  a  verfe  of  Tate's  Lear  in  the  Houfe 
of  Commons  -  -         213 

Chorus  of  the  ancient  drama,  its  ufe  and  pro- 
priety examined  -  226 

— — — ,  its  merit  not  deducible  from  what 
Ariftotle  and  Horace  fay  of  it  383 

Comedy,  at  prcfcnt  confined  to  domcftic  fable 
and  charaiSler  -  -  189 

Commons,  Houfe  of,  an  Ariflocraticaffcmbly 

225 


Consistent  inconfiftency,  defined  338 

Cowper,  Mr.  examination  of  what  he  ad- 
vances in  the  preface  to  his  tranflation  of 
Homer,  on  the  inefficacy  of  rhyme  for  fuch 
a  work  -  -  476 

Creusa,  taken  from  the  Ion  of  Euripides  299 


D 


Dacier,  his  ftridlnefs  as  to  the  unity  of  time 

Dance,  its  power  of  imitation  and  exprefllon 

92 
Dead  bodies,   a  favorite  exhibition  on  the 

Athenian  ftage  --  ■^-  "  Z03 

Deaths  on  the  ftage  not  cohtfafy  to IKe  rules 

of  Ariftotle  -  -  200 

fometimes  ridiculous  -  207 

Deception  never  really  takes  place  on  the 

theatre  -  —  136 

Democratic  afTemblies  -  225 

Destiny,  how  far  believed  inevitable  by  the 

Greeks  -  -  254 

Discovery,  extraordinary  one  in  the  French 

opera  of  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion  352 

Disguise   of  a  woman  in  man's  cloaths,  its 

improbability  -  -  198 
cfpecially.  when  women's  parts  were 

performed  by  men  -  ib.  [b] 

Dramatic  field  of  the  moderns  more  ex- 

tenfive  than  that  of  the  ancients  257 

Dryden,    his  fiinguinary    ftage  direflion    in 

K.  Arthur  -  -  169 
,    unintelligible  pafTage    in    his  Mock 

Aftrologer  -  -  189  [dJ 

,  his  alteration  of  the  Tempeft        281 

Dumb  SHEW  in  Hamlet  -  218 


Edward 


INDEX.: 


s?? 


hinrloh 


oni   T'/?T*'If. 


Edward  and  Eleonora  of  Thomfon,  taken 
from  Alceftes  -  375,  550 

Emphasis  never  improperly  laid  in  common 
converfation  -  -  156 

^———  not  the  fame  with  modern  accent  as 
fuggefted  by  Dr.  Beattie  and  Mr.  Nares  397 
fometimes  marked  by  quantity   398 


English  gardening,  fmgular  paflage  in  the 

Spedlator  concerning  it  -  -510 

Epilogue,  modern,  -  222 

■,  fupplemental,  to  the  play  240 

Episode,  how  it  cams  to  fignify  ait  in  the 

Greek  tragedy  -  -  219 

-  ■,  how  far  it  ought  to  be  connefted 

with  the  principal  ftory  -  447 

Epopee  may  be  in  profe  though  fuch  a  com- 

pofition  is  irregular  -  93 

has  bounds  as  to  its  length  437 

,  its  proper  length  -  459 

— — —  fault   if  it  is  too  much  or  irregularly 

protradled  -  -  460 

'         — ,  the  end  propofed  by  it,  according  to 

Ariftotle's  reafoning,  the  fame  witli  that  of 

tragedy  -  -  557 

Essay  on  the  dramatic  charadler  of  Falflaffi  its 

merit  -  -  308 

Euripides  and  Sophocles  compared  by  Bp. 

Hurd  and  Mr.  Twining  -  503 

Excellence  of  charafler,  how  eftimated  by 

Ariftotle,  and  how  obferved  in  the  different 

fpecies  of  compofition  -  100 


Fable,  the  eflential  part  of  tragedy  162 

Farren,  Mifs,  why  not  competent  to  repre- 

fent  Mrs.  Oakley  -  346 

Fatal  Curiosity  of  Liilo,  compared  with 

CEdipus,  by  Mr.  Harris  -         242,  312 

Fielding,  his  merit  as  a  painter  of  manners 


FiELDjNG,  his  error  in  <he  .eharaiStec  of  /\V4}r'f! 
fon  and  Tom  Jones    \ ^ z:\ci sir- c  lol  zloAfS 
,  his  inability  ,|p3fjifipfsd^.jftd^i)[>e4y 

:-;    .0 562 

French  comic  writers  ridicule  objefts  of  qri|- 
elty  -  -  123 

deftitute  of  poetical  language         420 

F.RiENDSj  their  reconciliation  affetSling      27 1 


G 


Garrick  introduced  propriety  of  drefs  on  our 

flage  -  -  169 
— —    peculiarly    happy   in    reprefenting 

Shakeipear's  characters  -  2i2j 

— •—— ,  probable  reafon  of  his  ill  fucccfs  in 

OtheUo  -  -  533 
,  tragedy  of  Hamlet  thrown  info  his 

grave  -  -  33^  [n] 

Ghosts,  argument  of  Lefling  on  tljeir.uf^  in, 

the  drama  -  nA  1,,^  f,,2,Jji 
,  reafon  why  they  would  not  fuccced  in 

the  hand  of  a  modern  poet  _  - _.   280 

Gil  Blas,  its  defed:  -  v'  ''n    3?+ 

Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  an  error. 

againft  propriety  in  it  -  488 

Gothic  machinery,  why  more  horrid  and  af- 

fefting  than  claffic  -  275 

Gray,  Greek  tranflation  of  his  elegy  l^y  Mr.; 

Cooke  -  ,      -:  305  [v];, 
,  his  Odes  not  obfcure  as  to  the  language 

435) 

,  his  Elegy  has  a  fault  of  this  kind    436 

Gryllus,  fon  of  Xenophon,  improbability  of 
his  having  killed  Epaminondas         -        .i9'^/ 

>  yi^it^ 

H  1.1  iJjofliJiA 

Hamlet,   its  refemblance  with  the  Apry  of 

Oreftes  -  -  .  28,3; 

,  an  ambiguous  paflage  in  it        520 

Hammond, 


I  N  D  E  X. 


Hammowd,  a  mci-e Iranflator  250  [<^] 

Harris,  Mr.  of  Salitbury,  his  opinion  of 
Ariftotle's  definition  of  tragedy  141 

Hebrew  vowel  points  their  origin  394. 

Herodotus,  proof  of  his  want  of  credulity  in 
things  he  thought  improbable      -     489  [n] 

Hexameter  verse,  examination  of  Arifto- 
tle's opinion  as  to  its  propriety  for  tragedy  534 

Historical  fable,  itsdefeft  -         176 

. arrangement  of  the  epopee  defec- 
tive -  -  181 

History  requires  fome  degree  of  unity      441 

,  Voltaire's  mifreprefentatlon  of  Ci- 
cero's rule  concerning  its  veracity  491 
,  Lucian's  rule  concerning  it         ib. 

Homer  compared  with  Virgil  454,  508 


I — ,  fuperiority  of  his  manners  and  machi- 
nery from  the  age  in  which  he  wrote        -456 
—— — ,  peculiar  advantage  of  his  fituation  ib. 
— ^ ,  his  heroes,  a  doubt  if  they  could  write 

457 
'■»  ■  — ,  refemblance  of  his  flyle  with  the 
«' rhymed  couplet  ■niU^  t'm  tuith.' .  481 
>■       —  his  overfight  in  Iliad  VII.     -         487 


Imitative  poetry,  the  fole  objecl  of  Ariffo- 
tle's  criticifm  -  gj 

Immoral  fentiments  fhould  not  be  fan<Sioned 
by  the  poet  himfclf,  or  given  to  virtuous 
chara£lers  -  -  512 

Interest  in  the  epopee  fliould  not  be  fuffered 
to  cool  -  _  ^6^1 

defeil  of  the  Iliad  in   this   refpecl 

ib.  [c] 

of  Tom  Jones  -  ^6^ 

advantage  of  the  drama  in  this  refpedl 

ibid. 


Jackson,    Mr,   of  Exeter,    his    remark    on 
painting  -  .  105 

-^- on  mufical  imitation         -  114 

- — ^! on  compounded  words         -       408 

— <: on  tranfpofition  of  language        428 

■ — on   the   incfficacy  of  acting,    to  dd 

juftice  to  the  impaffioned  parts  of  Shakefpear 

Jealousy  and  Sufpicion,  their  diftinftion  337 
JoNsoN,  Ben,  his  fupercilious  praife  of  Shakef- 
pear -  .  219 


Iambic  verfe  proper  for  the  drama  120 

Ignorance,  affectation  of  it  in  trifles  ridicu- 
lous -  -  502 
Iliad  and  Odyssey  compared. as  to  manners 

448 


,  an  idea  has  beein  enter- 
tained of  their  not  being  written  by  the  fame 
pcrfon              -  .    -  .      449  f<i.] 
Iliad,  its  fuperiority  to  the  Odyffey  queftioncd 

ibid. 

,  remark  on  a  pafiage  in  it  452 

defeftive  as  to  unity  of  aiStion  543 

Imitation,  its  influence  on  terrible  or  affedl- 
:    ing  objcLls  -  -  104 

— — ■ — ,  its  means  fhould  be  apparent  107 


Kaims,  Lord,  his  remark  on  the  comedies  of 
■    Terence  and  Plautus  examined         -      128 


Language  fhould  be  adapted  to  the  nature  6f 

the  compofition  -  -  424 

Latin  accent,  why  reading  Greek  -by  it  has 

.  been  called  reading  by  quantity         -      401 

Lear,    altered   both  by    Tate  and   Coleman 

263 
Lear 


INDEX. 


Lear,  fuppofed  reafoning  of  Aiiftotle  on  the 
change  of  its  cataftrophe  -  304 

Lessing,  his  criticifm  on  the  Earl  of  Effex 

315^369 
,  his  obfervation  on-.the  poetical  like- 

nefs  of  manners  -  -  326 

■  .     . ,  his  remarks  on  the  deviation  from 

known  hiftorical  charadters  -  337 

LoNGiNUS,  not  to  be  compared  with  Ariftotle 

450  [sj 

— ' ,  his  teftimony  in  favor  of  Cicero 

456  [n] 
Love,  differently  affeded  by  imitation,  than  pity 

and  terror  are  -  -  145 

. exaftly  correfponds  with  Ariftotle's  idea 

of  the  proper  error  to  produce  dramatic  dif- 

trefs  .  -  _         24g 

1 (hould  never  be  a  fubordinate  paflion  in 

tjie  drama  -  -  250 


M 


]Macdu7F,  his  defire  of  perfonal  revenge  on 

Macbeth  compared  with  that  of  Achilles  on 

Hedor  '  "  487 

Manners  fhould  be  fubordinate  to  aiTHon  165 

■         how  poetically  good         ~  310 

, INCONSISTENT,      exemplified     in 

Hamlet,  Romeo  and  Valentine  332,  333 
^- in    Don   Quixote,    Allworthy    and 

Sir  Roger  de  Coverly         -  335,  336 

. BAD,    exemplified   in    the  Orphan 

and  Gil  Bias  -  -  314 

Margites,  his  character  ~  118 

Marvellous,  transferred  from  preternatural 

to  natural  objects  -  -  493 

Mask,  ancient  dramatic,  Dr.  Francklia's  praife 

of  it  contraverted  -  -         533 

Massinger's  New  Way  to  pay  Old  Debts 

267 
Masox,  excellence  of  his  dramatic  language 

121 


Mason,  the  ftory  of  Nerina  in  his  EnglUh 
Garden  too  afFcSing  for  a  defcriptive  poem 

164 
,  His  conduiSt  of  the  charadter  of  Elfrida 

327 

Merchant  of  Venice,  its  laft  adfeems  fu- 

pcrfluous  -  -  174 

,  ftriking  peripetia  in 

the  fourth  a6l  -  197,  267 

■  ,  abfurdity  of  an  ar- 

529 
297 


gument  of  Portia 
Merope  compared  with  Douglas 

,    the  fame  ftory   as  the  Crefphontes 

of  Euripides,  the  ftriking  efFedl  of  which  is 

mentioned  by  Plutarch  -  298 

— »— — ,  altered  by  MafFei  and  Voltaire  from 

the  fuppofed  form  of  Euripides         -  ib. 

Metaphors  improper  -  430 

unfit  for  the  fubjeil         -      431 

■  purfued  too  far  -  ibi 

too  near  the  truth         -         432 

— — the  language  of  paflion  43  ? 

AIetastasio,  his  opinion  of  tlicatrica!  decla- 
mation -  -  153 

< ,  his  partiality  for  the  mufical 

drama                  -  -  155 
for  rhyme     46  8 


i ,    his   remark  on    the    greatert: 

merit  of  the  tragic  poet  being  omitted  by 

Ariftotle  -  -  560 

—' trandates  a  rhymed  couplet  of 

Horace  into  Italian  blank  verfe  ib.  [p] 

Military    point  of  honor  unknown  to  the 

ancients  -  -  486 

Milton's  excellence  in    the    defcriptive  and 

narrative  parts  of  his  poem  -  92 
,  his  plan  for  opening  a  tragedy  on 

the  fubjefl:  of  Riacbeth  -  209 

,  his  cenfure  of  Shakefpear  210 

,  his  wonderful  merit  in  drawing  the 

charaftcr  of  Satan  -  311 
and  Homer,  no  refemblance  in  the 

fty'e  of  their  verfification  -  480 

4  D  Milton, 


r  N  D  E  X. 


Milton,  his  apparent  Inferiority  in  the  drama 

562 

Moore,  Profeffor,  of  Glafgow,  his  opinion  of 

Ariftotle's  definition  of  tragedy         -       150 

Musical  drama,  its  prefent  prevalence  212 

. —  ACCOMPANIMENT  deftroys  the  force 

of  dramatic  efFcift  -  -         159 

Music,  its  powers  of  imitation  -  iii 

,  its  powers  by  combination  of  ideas  112 

-,  propofal  of  M.  Lefling  to  make  that 


between  the  adls  congenial  with  the  piece 

160 
>  not  ufeJ  through  the  whole   of  the 

Greek  tragedy  -  -       151 

Mysterious  mother  -  291 


N 


Names,  common  and  charafteriftic,  abfurdity 
of  their  mixture  -  188 

ancient,  ill  efFe£t  of  modernizing  them 

421 
Novels  illuftrate  the  rules  of  the  epopee  98 
,  their  influence  on  young  women  145 


O 


Obscurity  of  expreflion,  a  fault  even  in  iyric 
poetry  -  -  -         434 

Odyssey,  the  opinion  of  Longinus  as  to  its  in- 
feriority to  the  Iliad  examined  165, 449 

. more  quoted  by  Arlftotle  than  the 

Iliad                  -                    -  450 

CEaiPUs,  remarks  on  his  charadter  254 

. ,  dcfedl  In  the  difcovery          -  358 

Opening  a  drama  well,  its  difHculty  209 
Opera,    Italian,   a   lineal   dcfcendant   of  the 

Greek  tragedy  -  -  155 
Orphan,  of  Otway,  pathetic  but  abfurd  251 
,  defeit  in  its  manners  314 


Painting,  Its  imitative-power         -         ic^ 

,  its  fuperiorlty  to  the  dramatic  ap- 
paratus -  -  532 

Paradise  Lost,    deficiency  of  its    fable  in 
point  of  intereft  -  -  162 

Parody,  ufed  in,  the  fame  fenfe  by  the  ancients 
as  by  us  -  -  102 

Passions  oppofite  not  to  be  exprefled  at  the 
Hime  time,  either  by  painting  or  aiSing     365 

PLA.NO-convex  mirror,  its  effect         -        no 

Play-bill  of  the  night  of  Garrlck's  firft  ap- 
pearance -  -  220 

Player  much  depends  on  his  delivery  of  a 
paffage  -  -  389 

Poet  (hould  avoid  ambiguity  as  to  the  proper 
mode  of  recitation  -  -  389 

Po£tical  arrangement  of  real  ftories,  exem- 
plified from  Southern's  Oroonoko  192 

Poetry,  Its  powers  of  Imitation         -       115 

PoiNS  feems  forgotte?* by  Shakefpear  175 

Pope,  his  mifreprefentatlon  of  Homer's  man- 
ners, efpeclaliy  in  the  OdyfTcy  450 

,  the  infidelity  of  his  tranilation  of  Homer 

to  the  original  not  occafioned  by  his  ufe  of 
rhyme  -  -  478  [kJ 

Priestly,  Dr.  clear  Idea  of  chronology  given 
by  his  hlftorlcal  and  biographical  charts 

463 [b] 
Prior,  his  rhyme  the  mofl  dramatic  12Q 

Prologue  of  the  Greeks  very  inartificia]  208 

ridiculed  by  Lloyd  -         ibid, 

modern,  derived  from  that  of  the 

Roman  comedy  -  -  213, 

Prose,  ftyle  of  it  more  dlfEcult  to  be  imitated 

than  that  of  vcrfe         -  -  a82 

Provoked  Husband,  very  alFeLling  fcene  in 

it  -  -  -  271 

Punctuation,  its  efFe(£t  on  the  meaning  of  a 

fentence  -  -  5^7 


Re  pre- 


INDEX. 


Tl 


Representation,  its  efFecl  fliould  be  corifi- 

dered  by  the  dramatic  poet  -  359 

-       ,    this  exemplified    in  the 

tragedy  of  the  Regent  -  487 

Reynolds,  Sir  Jofliua,  his  Death  of  Cardinal 

Beaufort  -  -  281 

Rhetoric  figures,  often  grammatical  errors 

418 
Rhyme  improper  far  the  drama  -  r20 
■         —  compared  with  blank  verfe,  as  to  its 

fitnefs  for  a   tranflation  of  Homer  or   epic 

poetry  in  general  -  "473 

Richard  the  Third,  Leffing's  criticifm  on  a 

German  tragedy  on  that  fubjeft  248, 269  [p] 
Ridicule,  misfortunes  not  proper  objects  of  it 

122 
■Romans,  their  arrogance  in  imputingfalflaood 

to  the  Greek  hiftorians  when  their  own  are 

fo  grofsly  partial  -  -         490 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  ■confufion  as  to  die  place 

of  aftion  in  the  laft  fcene  -  361 

;R.OUSSEAU,  abfurdity  of  the  Sequel  to  his  Emi- 

lius  -  -  177 


Sen  riMENT  defined  by  Ld.  Kaims 


3S5 


'5apphic  verfe,  the  cadence  of  it  like  our  pen- 
tameter, but  with  a  flrifter  cadence   469  [l] 

Scene,  confidered  as  the  divifionof  an  aft  216 

,  change  of  it  contributes  to  the  proba- 
bility of  the  aftion  -  -  136 

— — —  never  changed  on  the  Greek  ftage 
during  the  courfe  of  the  drama  -       1 66 

imitated  rather  the  fuppofed  place  of  re- 

prefentation  than  of  adlion  -  i6y 

Sensibility  as  to  fiftitious  diftrefs,  not  always 
a  proof  of  real  humanity  -  149 

Sentiment,  its  meaning  according  to  Ari- 
ftotle  -  -  385 

—————  defined  by  Mr.  Harris  ib. 


Shakespear!  his  management  of  ftrokes  of 
humour  in  ferious  fcenes  -  126 

preferred  Plautus  tc  Terence  129 

progreflion  of  his  fame  209 

fupcriority  of  his  machinery 

274,  507 

of  his  manners         307 

of  the  manners  of  his 

fupernatural  brings  -  324 


,    a  pafiage    in    his    Midfummer 

Night's  Dream  compleatly  illuftrated,  an  ob- 
fervation  of  Ariftotle  -  367 

remark    on    the    fcene  between 


Flueilen  and  the  Eng'.ifti  foldier  in  his  King 
Henry  V.  -  _  496 

,  his  refemb'.ance  to  Euripides  507 

-,  his  tragedies  not  fo  deeply  affeft- 


ing  as  thofe  of  fome  inferior  dramatic  writers 

563 
,  the  only  poet  who  ever  pofleffed 


dramatic  effeiTt  united  with  epic  variety    564 
Shenstone,  his  remark  on  the  Roman  hifto- 
rians -  _  490 

,  abfurd  comparifon  in  one  of  his 

Elegies  -  -  529 

SiDDONS,  Mrs.  her  fuperior  merit       211  fr] 

■ excells  in  performing  matrons  253 

,  how  fhe  manages  the  death  q{ 

Dionyfius  in  the  Grecian  Daughter         362 
Smith,  Mrs.   conducS  of  her  Ethelinde  exa- 
mined -  -  464 

,  her  great  and  general  merit  465 

Soliloquy  fhould  never  be  overheard       218 

Somerville's  Chace,  criticifm  on  a  pafiage 

in  it  -  -  262  [d  ) 

Sophia,  her  conduft    in    the  catafirophe    of 

Tom  Jones  unnatural  -  464 

Spencer,  his  fingular  plan  for  producing  unity 

in  the  Fairy  Queen  -  440 

Spring?,  fuperior  in  real  beauty  to  autumn     106 

Stfrne,  his  Triftram  Shandy  compared  with 

Tom  Jones  -  -  165 

4  D  2  Sublimity 


INDEX. 


Sublimity  inconfiftent  with  llttletiefs  i8o  [p] 

Swift,  his  precifion  in  the  circumftances  of 

Gulliver's  Voyage  to  Lilliput  and  Brobdig- 

nag  -  -  -  495 


Transposition  of  words  in  our  language 
often  hurts  the  perfpicuity  of  the  fentence  428 

■ ,  fuperiority  of  the  Italian  in 

this  refpeft  _  _  _      ^2J 

,  difficulty    of    pronouncing 

Latin  verfe  with  propriety  on  this  account  429 


Tancred  and  Sigismunda,  an  error  in  it 

againft  dramatic  propriety  159  [f] 

— ,  obfervation  on 

the  arrangement  of  its  incidents  196 

•^—^ ,  inftance  of  ab- 

furdity  in  it  -  -  528 

Tatler,   No.  82,    two  horrid    tales    in   it 

iinomt   264  [g] 

Theatre,  ancient,  its  vaft  fize  152 

-)  not  fo  natural  as  the  modern    166 

Theatrical  apparatus,  its  propriety  fhould 

be  attended  to  -  -  345 

Time,    portion   of  it  comprehended   in   the 

Iliad,  Odyfley,  and  ^neid  -  445 
,  not  to  be   afcertained   in   the  Paradife 

Loft  -  -  -  ibid. 

Tom  Jones,   wonderful    contrivance  of   the 

incidents  -  -  -  182 

-^—^ ,  excellence  of  the  difcovery    537 

Tragedy  on  private  life,  its  effect    116,  244 
■  — ,    obfervations    on  Ariftotle's  cele- 

brated definition  of  it  -  138 

— — ^ — ,    fome  account   of   its   origin   and 

progrefs  -  -  -  219 
,  death  of  one  of  the  characters  fup- 

pofed  eflential  to  it  -  -  270 

,  its   encrcafcd   intcreft  from  beina; 


read  or  performed  without  interruption    541 
-,    thofe    of  Shakefpear   often   more 


affctfting  in  the  clofet  than  on  the  ftage  531 
— — — — ,  its  fuperiority  to  the  epopee  qucf- 

tioned  -  -  _  cry 
,  on  what  principle  Ariftotle  decides 

on  it  -  -  _  ibid, 

TAACi-comcdy,  its  abfurdity  -         127 


u 


Ulysses  not  an  hereditary  monarch  451 

Unities  of  time  and  place  how  far  eflential 

to  the  drama  -  -  -         133 

Unity  of  place  not  mentioned  by  Ariftotle  130 

,  violation  of  it  by  Euripides  132 

of  adlion  -  -  i8r 

Utility,  how  far  it  is  connefted  with  beauty 

551 

— — —  fometimes  deftrudive  of  beauty  55^ 


Verse,  uncertainty  of  particular  fpecies  of  it 
being  adapted  to  particular  fpecies  of  poetry 

Virgil,  want  of  originality  in  his  j^neid  455 
— — ,  defeiSt  of  his  manners  and  machinery 

from  the  age  in  which  he  wrote  ibid. 

,  excellence  of  his  language  456 

,  merit  of  his  Georgics  ibid. 

,  obfervation  on  the  fourth  Georgia  457 

fupcrior   to  Homer  in  the   death   of 

Turnus  -  -  463  [c] 

,  his  contradiflions  -  527 

Voltaire,  coinparifon  of  his  ghoft  of  Ninus 

with  Hamlet  -  -  277 

'  has    probably  ftruck   out   the  true 

foliition  of  the  difficulty  occafioned  by  what 

Ariftotle  has  faid  of  the  Crefphontes,  Iphi- 

gcnia  in  Tauris,  and  Helle  -  301 
,  his  opinion   of  the  conne(5tion  of 

beauty  and  utility  -  -  546 

Warbur- 


INDEX. 


W 


Warburton,  his  curious  obfervatlon  on  the 

marvellous  -  -  493 

Warton,  his  Ode  on  Spring  -  500 
Winter's  Tale,  errors  in  it  excufable  499 
Wit,  Dr.  Beattie's  definition  of  it  433 

Woodcock,  Juftice,  impropriety  of  his  fong 

in  Love  in  a  Village  -  158  [f] 
Women,  their  charaiSers  -  317 
,  Ariftotle's  abfurd  definition  of  them 

as  animals  -  -  3^^ 
,  their  fuperiority   to  men  in  moral 

perfedtion  _  -  -  320 

— fliould  be  feminine  in  their  manners 

322 


Worse,  how  applicable  to  comic  charafters 

126 
Written  language,  its  inaccuracy  in  mark- 
ing pronunciation  -  -  392 


X 


Xenophon  and  Arrian, their  different  opinions 
on  the  effect  of  the  death  of  the  hare  on  the 
fportfman  -  -  262  [d] 


Zara,  ftrange  attempt  at  accompanying  it 
with  a  chorus  -  -  161 


no.  1 
)T    MoT 


F    I    N    I 


lionoi* 


Je  8Ji  /\'b3moD-iOA»T