Nature, like Liberty, is but reftrain'd By the fame Laws which firft herself ordain'd. 90 Hear NOTES. catastrophe as poffible; and, in the drama, that no more events be crowded together, than can be justly fuppofed to happen during the time of representation, or to be tranfacted on one individual fpot, and the like. But the abfurdity here animadverted on, is the fcrupulous nicety of thofe who bind themselves to obey frivolous and unimportant laws; fuch as, that an epic poem fhould confist not of less than twelve books; that it should end fortunately; that in the first book there fhould be no fimile; that the exordium fhould be very fimple and unadorned; that in a tragedy, only three perfonages fhould appear at once upon the ftage; and that every tragedy fhould confift of five acts; by the rigid obfervation of which last unneceffary precept, the poet is deprived of using many a moving story, that would furnish matter enough for three perhaps, but not for five acts; with other rules of the like indifferent nature. For the reft, as Voltaire obferves, whether the action of an epopea be fimple or complex, completed in a month, or a year, or a longer time, whether the fcene be fixed on one fpot, as in the Iliad; or that the hero voyages from fea to fea, as in the Odyffey; whether he be furious like Achilles, or pious like Eneas; whether the action pafs on land or fea; on the coaft of Africa, as in the Luziada of Camoens; in America, as in the Araucana of Alonzo D'Ercilla; in Heaven, in Hell, beyond the limits of our world, as in the Paradife Loft; all these circumftances are of no confequence: the poem will be for ever an epic poem, an heroic poem; at least, till another new title be found proportioned to its merit. "If you fcruple (fays Addifon) to give the title of an Epic Poem to the Paradife Loft of Milton, call it, if you choose, a Divine Poem; give it whatever name you pleafe; provided you confefs, that it is a work as admirable in its kind as the Iliad. It has become a fashionable attempt of late, to cenfure and decry an obedience to the rules laid down by ancient critics; while one party, loudly and frequently exclaim, -Vos exemplaria Græca Nocturnâ verfate manû, verfate diurnâ ; Another, inftantly anfwers, O imitatores fervum pecus! One Hear how learn'd Greece her useful rules indites, When to reprefs, and when indulge our flights: 93 High NOTES. One of the ablest defenders of literary liberty expreffes himself thus; "From the time of Homer, epic poetry became an artificial compofition, whofe rules were, in reality, drawn from the practice of the Grecian Bard, rather than from the principles of Nature. Lyric and dramatic poetry were in like manner fixed, though at a later period, by Grecian models; fo that the Roman writers of fimilar performances could not be faid to bring any thing of their own to their works. The fame fhackles of imitation have hung upon the poetry of modern Europe; whence a fair comparison of the powers and genius of different periods is rendered scarcely practicable. The leading fpecies of poetry, like the orders of architecture, have come down to us fubject to certain proportions, and requiring certain ornamental accompaniments, which, perhaps, have had no foundation whatever but the cafual practice of the earliest masters; nay, poffibly, the whole existence of fome of the fpecies has had the fame accidental origin. "Meantime, the veneration for the ancients has been raised to the highest pitch by this perpetual reference to them as models; and it has been concluded, that works which have engaged the study, and called forth the imitation of fo many fucceeding ages, muft poffefs a fuperior degree of excellence. But after all, their reputation may have been much more owing to accident than is commonly fuppofed. That the Grecian poets, continually recording the deeds of their countrymen, and offering incenfe to the national vanity, should have been held in high efteem at home, was natural. That the Romans, receiving all their literature from Greece, should adopt its principles and prejudices, was alfo to be expected. But that they should transmit them to so large a portion of the civilized world, and this,' not only during the period of their domination, but to new races of men, so many centuries after the downfall of their empire, must be reckoned accident, as far as any thing in human affairs can be called accidental. Had not the Chriftian religion established a kind of second Roman empire, even more capable of fwaying the opinions of mankind than the first, it is highly improbable that we should at this day have been commenting upon the claffical writers High on Parnaffus' top her fons fhe fhow'd, And pointed out thofe arduous paths they trod; NOTES. Held writers of Greece and Rome. It is, indeed, aftonishing to reflect, by what a ftrange concatenation of caufe and effect, the youth of Christian Europe fhould be instructed in the fables of Greek and Latin Mythology, which were fallen into contempt even before Rome ceafed to be heathen. "It certainly has not been on account of their wifdom and beauty that they have furvived the wreck of fo many better things. They have been embalmed in the languages which contained them, and which, by becoming likewife the depofitaries of Chriftian doctrine, have been rendered facred languages." To this fort of reafoning, the imitators of the ancients, by way of anfwer, muft fay, that all they mean in adhering to rules, is to adopt," that method of treating any fubject, that may render it most interesting to a reader." This, for instance, was the reason why Aristotle gives the preference to thofe tragedies, where there is a difcovery and peripetic. And hence, they will fay, the Edipus of Sophocles is as perfect a model of dramatic, as the Medicean Venus is of female, beauty. The learned and ingenious tranflator of Aristotle's Treatife on Poetry, with whose words I conclude this long note, is of a different opinion. "When we fpeak (fays he) of the Greek tragedies, as perfect and correct models, we feem merely to conform to the cftablifhed language of prejudice, and content ourfelves with echoing, without reflection or examination, what has been faid before us. I fhould be forry to be ranked in the class of those critics, who prefer that poetry which has the fewest faults, to that which has the greatest beauties. I mean only to combat that conventional and hearfay kind of praife, which has fo often held out the tragedies of the Greek poets, as elaborate and perfect models, fuch as had received the laft polifh of art and meditation. The true praife of Efchylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, is (in kind at leaft, if not in degree,) the praise of Shakespeare; that of ftrong, but irregular, unequal, and hafty genius. Every thing which this genius, and the feeling of the moment could produce, in an early period of the art, before time and long experience, and criticifm, had cultivated and refined it, these Held from afar, aloft, th' immortal prize, And urg'd the reft by equal steps to rife. 96 Juft NOTES. thefe writers poffefs in great abundance: what meditation, and the labour and delay of the file only can effect, they too often want. Of Shakespeare, however, compared with the Greek poets, it may justly, I think, be pronounced, that he has much more both of this want, and of that abundance." Twining's Ariftotle, p. 207. VER. 92. Hear how learn'd Greece] In the fecond part of Shaftesbury's Advice to an Author, is a judicious and elegant account of the rife and progress of arts and sciences, in ancient Greece; to fubjects of which fort it were to be wished this author had always confined himfelf, as he indifputably underflood them well, rather than have blemished and belied his patriotism, by writing against the religion of his country. I fhall give the reader a paffage that relates to the origin of criticism, which is curious and juft. "When the perfuafive arts, which were neceffary to be cultivated among a people that were to be convinced before they acted, were grown thus in repute; and the power of moving the affections become the study and emulation of the forward wits and afpiring geniufes of the times; it would neceffarily happen, that many geniuses of equal fize and ftrength, though lefs covetous of public applause, of power, or of influence over mankind, would content themselves with the contemplation, merely, of thefe enchanting arts. These they would the better enjoy, the more they refined their taste and cultivated their ear. Hence was the origin of Critics; who, as arts and sciences advanced, would neceffarily come withal into repute; and being heard with fatisfaction in their turn, were at length tempted to become authors, and appear in public. These were honoured with the name of Sophifts; a character which in early times was highly refpected. Nor did the graveft philosophers, who were cenfors of manners, and critics of a higher degree, difdain to exert their criticism on the inferior arts; especially in thofe relating to speech, and the power of argument and persuasion. When fuch a race as this was once rifen, it was no longer poffible to impofe on mankind, by what was fpecious and pretending. The public would be paid in no falfe wit, or jingling eloquence. Where Juft precepts thus from great examples giv'n, 100 And taught the world with reafon to admire. NOTES. Where the learned critics were fo well received, and philofophers themselves difdained not to be of the number, there could not fail to arife critics of an inferior order, who would fubdivide the feveral provinces of this empire." Characteristics, vol. i. 12mo. p. 163. Our author might have profited much by reading Shaftesbury's Advice to an Author; but his effay preceded it. VER. 98. Juft Precepts] "Nec enim artibus editis factum eft ut argumenta inveniremus, fed dicta funt omnia antequam praeciperentur; mox ea fcriptores obfervata et collecta ediderunt." Quintil. P. VER. 103. To drefs her charms,] What a dreadful picture has Swift drawn of the evil demon of criticism. "Momus fearing the worst, and calling to mind an ancient prophecy, which bore no very good face to his children the moderns; bent his flight to the region of a malignant deity, called Criticism. She dwelt on the top of a snowy mountain in Nova Zembla; there Momus found her extended in her den, upon the fpoils of numberlefs volumes half devoured. At her right hand fat Ignorance, her father and husband, blind with age; at her left, Pride, her mother, dreffing her up in the scraps of paper herself had torn. There, was Opinion, her fifler, light of foot, hoodwinked, and headftrong, yet giddy and perpetually turning. About her played her children, Noise and Impudence, Dulness and Vanity, Pofitivenefs, Pedantry, and Ill-manners. The goddess herfelf had claws like a cat; her head, and ears, and voice, resembled those of an afs; her teeth fallen out before; her eyes turned inward, as if she looked only upon herself; her diet was the overflowing of her own gall; her fpleen was fo large, as VOL. I. to |