1.
THE THIMBLE.
AN HEROI-COMICAL POEM, IN FIVE CANTOS.
Illuſtrated with NOTES, Critical and Explanatory, By SCRIBLERUS SECUNDUS.
The THIRD EDITION, Corrected and Enlarged.
TO Miſs ANNA MARIA WOODFORD.
[]AS the Subject of the following Poem naturally led me to in⯑ſcribe it to one of your Sex, I could not but hope, that the Juſtneſs of the preſent Addreſs, from one who has not the Happineſs to be perſonally known to you, would be a ſufficient Apology for the Preſumption of it. But tho' I may have the Misfortune to incur your Diſpleaſure, by offending your Hu⯑mility, I ſhall, even under the Senſe of your Diſapprobation, have the Satisfaction to reflect, that I have been guilty of a very artful Piece of Impertinence; ſince, by placing your Name before my Per⯑formance, I have taken the moſt effectual Method to recommend it to the Public.
[iv] Your Example, Madam, is a Reproach to the preſent indolent Generation; your Glory is not eſtabliſhed upon the perſo⯑nal Advantages you poſſeſs in ſo eminent a Manner; which, great as they are, your good Senſe aſſures you, are, at the beſt, but the Subjects of preſent Admiration, and can never be the Baſis of a laſting Fame.
Your Handy-work, Madam, which has very juſtly a Place among the Curi⯑oſities of that famous Univerſity, of which I have the Honour and Happineſs to be an inconſiderable Member, has rendered your Name immortal; and your nice Management of the Needle, that little, but important Implement of Oeconomy, has entitled you to the Reputation of the compleateſt Houſewife in Europe; a Cha⯑racter, to which all Virgins and Wives ſhould aſpire.
You have taught us to acknowlege, that the moſt minute Utenſil of Art may, [v] by an ingenious Application of it, be made ſubſervient, in the higheſt Degree, to the Honour of the Artiſt: A Pin, or a Needle, in your Hands, are Inſtru⯑ments as effectual for that Purpoſe, as the Poet's Pen, or the Hero's Sword.
I am at preſent, Madam, in a very perplexed Situation of Mind; I have the Pleaſure to conſider, that I am now upon a Subject that muſt be agreeable to all my Readers, and at the ſame time have the Mortification to recollect, that 'tis diſtaſteful to yourſelf.
Though therefore all I could ſay in Commendation of your Merit, the World would think too little, yet, as what I have ſaid you will think too much, I find myſelf under a Neceſſity of deſiring your Pardon for this Liberty I have taken, and for another in the fourth Canto of this Poem, wherein I have pre⯑ſumed to put a ſhort Prediction, relating [vi] to your amiable Character, into the Mouth of the Queen of Love. This I need not otherwiſe have intimated, ſince every one muſt at firſt Sight perceive, that this Prediction is properly applicable to none but yourſelf.
After what I have ſaid, Madam, may I venture to hope you have ſome Patience in Reſerve for the Poem? 'Twas deſign'd for your Amuſement, and, if that Deſign be anſwered, my Ambition is ſatisfied: And indeed, to ſay Truth, I have ſo thorough a Confidence in your good Na⯑ture, that I am perſuaded you will look with a favourable Eye upon the following Performance, though not in Juſtice, yet in Pity to,
THE PREFACE.
[]I Have always conſidered a Preface as an Author's Apology for his Perform⯑ance; in which he has an undoubted Li⯑berty of ſaying as much as he pleaſes in Favour of himſelf: As I cannot there⯑fore but be apprehenſive of the Succeſs of the following Piece, I muſt beg Leave to take this comfortable Privilege, as well as my Poetical Brethren. The principal Circumſtances I have to urge in my own Behalf, are, that this Poem is the firſt Production of a young and unexperienced Author (excepting a few trifling Pieces in the Magazines); and that I am ſo far from bidding Defiance to the Critics, that I addreſs myſelf to them in the modeſt and [viii] ſubmiſſive Terms of, By your Leave,
GENTLEMEN.
As to the Poem itſelf, I have endea⯑voured, in ſome particular Paſſages, to imitate the Manner of Mr. Pope's Rape of the Lock, upon a Preſumption, that ſuch Imitation would be deemed meritori⯑ous in ſo young a Writer as myſelf. I ought likewiſe to acknowlege, that I had in View the Epiſode of the Patten in Mr. Gay's Trivia. How far I have reached the Spirit required in this Kind of Poetry, muſt be left to the Reader, to whoſe Can⯑dour and Judgment I ſubmit the follow⯑ing Poem.
THE THIMBLE. *
[]CANTO I.
CANTO II.
[23]CANTO III.
[31]CANTO IV.
CANTO V.
2.
HENRY AND ROSAMOND.
A TRAGEDY.
The SECOND EDITION, CORRECTED.
TO Sir JOHN PHILIPPS, Bart.
[]THOUGH I am happy in your Permiſſion to ſhelter under your Name a Performance which ſtands in much Need of your Favour and Pro⯑tection, eſpecially as it comes into the World with ſome Diſadvantage; yet I hope you will do me the Juſtice to believe me actuated by a nobler Principle than that of a Selfiſhneſs common to all Authors, in my Choice of a Patron upon the pre⯑ſent Occaſion.
For, Sir, the following Sheets are with a par⯑ticular Propriety yours, whether you are conſidered as a Perſon ſincerely attached to the Univerſity of Oxford, or affectionately intereſting yourſelf in the Welfare of Pembroke-College; to the Regard and beſt Wiſhes of which Society you have a double Claim, both as an Ornament, and a Benefactor.
The common Topics of Panegyric are obvious; and I have here a fair and agreeable Opportunity of taking Notice of thoſe many amiable Qualities, which adorn you in public and private Life, and for which you are ſo juſtly beloved and eſteemed: But my Inclination is corrected by a ſeaſonable Thought, that moſt Writers of the preſent Age [] have, in this Reſpect, a conſiderable Advantage over me, as it is much more eaſy to make a Cha⯑racter, than to deſcribe one.
Beſides, it would be needleſs to enter into a Detail of thoſe Praiſes, which are already in the Mouth of every Well-wiſher to his Country: And therefore I will only indulge the Impulſe of Gra⯑titude, which points to that Part of your Cha⯑racter, which more immediately affects me; your Good-nature and Condeſcenſion, to which I am indebted for the Honour of your Acquaintance and Friendſhip, and for your favourable Accept⯑ance of the following Poem.
Give me Leave to aſſure you, Sir, that I am principally anxious for the Reputation of this Tragedy, from an earneſt Deſire of tranſmitting to Poſterity a Monument of the Regard and Ve⯑neration I have for the Perſon and Character of Sir JOHN PHILIPPS. I am,
ADVERTISEMENT.
[]THE moſt material Objection to this Tragedy, made by Mr. Garrick, was, that it is rather a Poem, than a Play.—A conſolatory Octjection at leaſt! as it is founded only in the Author's acknow⯑leged Tranſgreſſion of the mechanical Laws of the Drama. But however reaſonable the Objection might be to the Repreſentation of this Tragedy upon the Stage, it was by no Means thought a ſufficient one to its original Publication; nor conſequently, 'tis pre⯑ſumed, will be eſteemed ſuch againſt its having a Place in the preſent Collection.—Thoſe who are offended at the Liberties taken in it, may, if they pleaſe, call it an Hiſtorical Play, and then all Ex⯑ceptions of this Nature vaniſh of Courſe.—After all, the Objection will perhaps have leſs Weight with the candid and judicious Reader, when he has fa⯑voured with his Peruſal the Eſſay on the Antient and Modern Drama; though he is not to look upon that Eſſay as written with a View to the Defence of this particular Play, or to conſider this Advertiſe⯑ment as any Thing like a Declaration of the Au⯑thor's Right of Exemption from the common Rules of the Drama, by Virtue of any ſuperiour Qualifications in Himſelf.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
[]- King HENRY the Second.
- Prince HENRY.
- Duke of CORNWALL.
- Earl of SALISBURY.
- Lord CLIFFORD.
- Earl of LEICESTER.
- Earl of WINCHESTER.
- Earl of SURRY.
- Queen ELINOR.
- ROSAMOND.
- HARRIANA.
Guards and Attendants.
SCENE in and near CANTERBURY.
HENRY AND ROSAMOND.
[]ACT I. SCENE I.
SCENE II.
[73]SCENE III.
ACT II. SCENE I.
SCENE II.
ACT III. SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
SCENE III.
ACT V. SCENE I.
SCENE II.
[130]3.
THE SIEGE OF ALEPPO.
A TRAGEDY.
ADVERTISEMENT.
[]THE Reader will probably expect ſome Account of a Play which makes it's firſt Appearance in the World in this Manner.—He is to know then, that The Siege of ALEPPO having been refuſed by the Managers of both Theatres, to one of which, viz. Mr. Garrick, it was ſtrongly recommended by Lady Caroline Burdet (who is thereby intitled to my preſent grateful Acknowlegements), would not have been offered to the Publick, had it not been honoured with the Approbation of ſeveral Perſons of the firſt Note in the Republick of polite Litera⯑ture, whom I am not at Liberty to mention.—I am obliged to declare this, in order to do common Juſtice to myſelf, and to obviate the Prejudices which might be conceived againſt a Performance that has not had the Credit and Advantage of a Theatrical Repreſentation.—But the Play muſt now ſpeak for itſelf; of which I ſhall ſay no more than juſt to premiſe, that the Fable, and whole Conſtruction of it, excepting the Reality of the Siege, is purely fictitious: That the Incidents were deſigned to be natural, tho' unexpected, not ariſing from common-place Exigencies, or forced Expe⯑dients, (which is too frequently the Caſe) but from the predominant Principles of the Characters them⯑ſelves: And that for this Purpoſe I have endeavoured to give a new, and ſomething of an original Caſt to the principal Characters, particularly to thoſe of Theodore, Sophronius, and Ormelia.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
[]- MANUEL, Governour of Aleppo.
- THEODORE, a Chriſtian Chief.
- OTHMAN, General of the Saracens.
- SOPHRONIUS, Son to Manuel.
- LEON, Friend to Sophronius.
- ROMANUS, Lieutenant to Theodore.
- IZRAIL, an Officer.
- MERVAN, Secretary to the Governour.
- ORMELIA, Daughter to Theodore.
- EUSEBIA, Daughter to Manuel.
Officers, Soldiers, Attendants, &c.
SCENE ALEPPO.
THE SIEGE OF ALEPPO.
[]ACT I. SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
ACT II. SCENE I.
ACT III. SCENE I.
SCENE II.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
ACT V. SCENE I.
[206]4.
CYMBELINE.
A TRAGEDY, ALTERED FROM SHAKESPEARE.
As it is perform'd at the THEATRE-ROYAL in Covent-Garden.
By WILLIAM HAWKINS, M. A. Late Fellow of Pembroke College, and Profeſſor of Poetry in the Univerſity of Oxford.
LONDON: Printed for JAMES RIVINGTON and JAMES FLETCHER, at the Oxford Theatre, in Pater-noſter-row. MDCCLIX.
[Price One Shilling and Six-pence.]
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE Counteſs of Litchfield.
[]I Have the honour of your LADY⯑SHIP'S permiſſion to preſent to you a Tragedy, which, though it met with numerous and unprece⯑dented difficulties and diſcourage⯑ments in the theatre, will, I hope, be thought not altogether unworthy your protection in the world.—In⯑deed, if the unpopularity of its late ſituation could in the leaſt affect that degree of merit, which your LADY⯑SHIP'S candor, or the indulgence of the town, may allow it to have, it would ill become me to recommend [iv] it to my readers, under the ſanction of ſo polite and illuſtrious a name.—But your LADYSHIP has too much good ſenſe, as well as generoſity, to judge of this performance by mere appearances, and accidental or un⯑lucky circumſtances; and therefore, tho' it will ſtand as a kind of memo⯑rial of the bad fortune, and worſe treatment of its author; it may at the ſame time be a proper teſtimony of the high reſpect with which I am,
PREFACE.
[]THE Tragedy of Cymbeline is, in the whole oeconomy of it, one of the moſt ir⯑regular productions of Shakeſpeare. Its defects however, or rather its ſuperfluities, are more than equalled by beauties, and excellencies of various kinds. There is at the ſame time ſomething ſo pleaſingly romantic, and likewiſe truly Britiſh in the ſubject of it, that, I flatter myſelf, an attempt to reduce it, as near as poſſible, to the regular ſtan⯑dard of the drama, will be favourably received by all, who are admirers of novelty, when pro⯑priety is its foundation. I have accordingly en⯑deavoured to new-conſtruct this Tragedy, almoſt upon the plan of Ariſtotle himſelf, in reſpect of the unity of Time; with ſo thorough a venera⯑tion however for the great Father of the Engliſh ſtage, that, even while I have preſumed to regu⯑late and modernize his deſign, I have thought it an honour to tread in his ſteps, and to imitate his Stile, with the humility and reverence of a Son. With this view, I have retained in many places the very language of the original author, and in [vi] all others endeavoured to ſupply it with a diction ſimilar thereunto; ſo that, as an unknown friend of mine has obſerved, the preſent attempt is in⯑tirely new, whether it be conſidered as an alter⯑ation from, or an imitation of Shakeſpeare.
—The difficulty of ſuch an attempt, as ra⯑tional as it may be, has a kind of claim, I pre⯑ſume, to the indulgence of the public; eſpe⯑cially as it has been attended likewiſe with diſ⯑advantages.—For I found myſelf neceſſitated by my plan to drop ſome characters, to contract others, and to omit ſome ſcenes and incidents of an intereſting nature;—or rather to bring the ſubſtance and purport of them within the com⯑paſs of a few ſhort narrations.—A loſs irrepar⯑able this, but that conveniencies are likewiſe to be thrown into the oppoſite ſcale; for as, I hope, I have not injured any characters by contracting them, but have left them to all intents, and in point of importance the ſame; ſo I have had an opportunity of enlarging and improving ſome of the original parts, (thoſe particularly of Palador, and Philario, the Piſanio of Shakeſpeare) and, by varying certain incidents and circumſtances, of giving a new caſt to the whole drama.—After all, I am very far from meaning to detract from the merit of Shakeſpeare; or▪ from inſinuating that the plays of ſo exalted a genius require ſuch [vii] new-modelling as the preſent, in order to the rendering them uſeful or entertaining.—I have ventured publicly to defend this great dramatic Poet in the liberties he has taken; but ſtill Shakeſpeare himſelf needs not be aſhamed to wear a modern dreſs, provided it can be made tolerably to fit him.
The only queſtion then will be, whether the preſent alteration be a judicious one?—And this with all due deference is left to the candour and juſtice of the public.
It will be proper to acquaint the reader, that, this play, was recommended ſome time ſince by a perſon of the firſt diſtinction, to the manager of the other theatre; who declared, that he had the very ſame altered play in his poſſeſſion, and that it was deſigned for repreſentation on his ſtage. Our Cymbeline therefore was obliged to take up his head quarters at Covent-Garden; where he has contended not only with the uſual difficulties, but alſo with others of an extraor⯑dinary nature—Mrs. Bellamy's declining the part of Imogen has done the play incredible prejudice; and convinces me of the vanity of ſtriving againſt the ſtream of popularity in ge⯑neral, or the weight of particular diſadvantages.—However, I am under obligations to many [viii] of the performers, for their beſt endeavours to do juſtice to my piece, and for their zeal for its ſucceſs. To ſome I am indebted for real ſervice, whoſe names, as compariſons are invidious, I leave it to the judgment of the reader to ſupply.
Upon the whole, I am at a loſs to ballance the account between myſelf and my fortune, in this whimſical ſituation. The kind aſſiſtance, and, I hope, not extremely partial approbation of ſome, adds as much to my credit and ſatisfac⯑tion, as the delicacy, or ill-nature, &c. of others, has deducted from my advantages.—To my friends, I return my ſincere acknowledg⯑ments, and beſt wiſhes; to my enemies, I ſhall ſay nothing, 'till they are candid, and ſagacious enough to ſpeak more plainly than they have hi⯑therto done,—and more to the purpoſe.
PROLOGUE.
[]Spoken by Mr. ROSS.
EPILOGUE.
Spoken by Mrs. VINCENT.
Dramatis Perſonae.
[]- CYMBELINE, Mr. RYAN.
- CLOTEN, Mr. CLARKE.
- LEONATUS, Mr. ROSS.
- PALADOR, Mr. SMITH.
- CADWAL, Mr. LOWE.
- BELLARIUS, Mr. SPARKES.
- PHILARIO, Mr. RIDOUT.
- C. LUCIUS, Mr. GIBSON.
- PISANIO, Mr. DYER.
- TWO LORDS.
- IMOGEN, Mrs. VINCENT.
- OFFICERS, SOLDIERS, &C.
SCENE, partly a Royal Caſtle, and partly in and near a Foreſt in WALES.
CYMBELINE. A TRAGEDY.
[]ACT I.
(Reading) Juſtice and your father's wrath, ſhould he take me in his dominions, could not be ſo cruel to me, but you, oh! the deareſt of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am at Milford Haven; what your own love will out of this adviſe you, follow. So he wiſhes you all hap⯑pineſs, that remains loyal to his vow, and yours in⯑creaſing in love, LEONATUS.
ACT II.
[21]My wife, Philario, hath play'd the ſtrumpet in my bed; the teſtimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I ſpeak not out of weak ſurmiſes, but from proof, as ſtrong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Philario, muſt act for me; Let thine own hand take away her life; I ſhall give thee op⯑portunity in the road to Milford: my letter is for that purpoſe to her: ſo, if thou fear to ſtrike, and to cer⯑tify it is done, thou haſt broken thy vows, and art a traitor to friendſhip.
(Imogen drops the letter, ſtands ſilent, and in the utmoſt conſternation.)
ACT. III.
[38]The DIRGE.
Set by Mr. ARNE, ſung by Mr. LOWE.
ACT IV.
[58][69] If thou lov'ſt me, let me ſee thee ere night. I have bought the fidelity of the princeſs's woman with my gold; ſhe will give thee admittance into her chamber, when nothing will be awake but anger and policy; where thou may'ſt make ſuch note as will be ſufficient to the madding of the abhorred Leonatus. Thy ſervice herein will tie me cloſer to thyſelf, and to Auguſtus thy lord. No more till thou doſt conſole with thy pre⯑ſence, thine and Caeſar's in affection, CLOTEN.
ACT V.
[76]5.
AN ESSAY ON GENIUS.
AN ESSAY ON GENIUS.
[]6.
A PARAPHRASE ON THE TE DEUM.
AN ODE.
ADVERTISEMENT.
[]IN the following Poetical Paraphraſe I have thought myſelf obliged to purſue the Track before me, and to deviate no farther from it, than might be clearly warranted by the Senſe and plain Import of the Original.—The greateſt Liberty I have taken is in the two laſt Stanzas, wherein I have ventured to mention ſome ſtriking Circumſtances ra⯑ther from the Authority of the Holy Scriptures, than that of the Hymn itſelf; a Liberty which I hope will be indulg'd to the Solemnity of the Occaſion.
A PARAPHRASE ON THE TE DEUM.
[]7.
AN ESSAY ON THE ANTIENT and MODERN DRAMA, OCCASIONED BY MR. MASON's ELFRIDA, And the LETTERS Prefixed to it.
AN ESSAY ON THE ANTIENT and MODERN DRAMA.
[]I Have often read with much Pleaſure the in⯑genious Mr. Maſon's Dramatic Poem, entitled Elfrida, together with the preparatory Letters with which that Gentleman introduces it to the Public. This Piece is profeſſedly written on the Model of the antient Greek Tragedy; and though I flatter myſelf, the Objections I have to the Prin⯑ciples laid down in thoſe Letters are not removed by this much-labour'd Attempt, yet I will readily own the Deſign is executed with a ſkilful hand, and in ſome reſpects deſerves the Attention of the preſent Writers of the Engliſh Drama. I did not therefore undertake this Argument with any Inclination to differ from a Perſon of his known [262] Taſte, and greatly admired Abilities, but purely in Vindication of the Theory I have had the Ho⯑nour to deliver in a Courſe of Lectures to the UNIVERSITY of OXFORD, in which, with a par⯑ticular View to the Juſtification of Shakeſpeare, I have ventured to advance and defend a Syſtem in ſome material Points inconſiſtent with that un⯑der preſent Conſideration. Neither am I unaware of the great Diſadvantage I have to contend againſt, when I oppoſe a celebrated Writer, whoſe Sentiments are countenanc'd by the Prac⯑tiſe of the antient Poets, and whoſe Pen is drawn under the Banner of Ariſtotle himſelf: A Diſad⯑vantage, which the Uſage of later Writers, and the almoſt concurrent Voice of modern Criticiſm *perhaps will be thought little enough to coun⯑terbalance. However, as in Matters of Taſte we ought only, I apprehend, to appeal to the genuine Dictates of Good-ſenſe, Reaſon and Nature (which an implicit Veneration for any Name Antient or Modern may poſſibly prevent our regarding) ſo, if Prejudices on both Sides were removed, it would probably appear that the Victory is rather to be divided, than determined, and that with⯑out depreciating the real Merit and Excellency [263] of the antient Poets, we may yet ſafely defend the Principles on which the Moderns reject their Writings as the abſolute and everlaſting Standard of Dramatic Compoſition: I mean principally with regard to the three great Unities of Action, Time, and Place.—What I have to ſay therefore upon theſe Subjects I ſubmit without farther Apo⯑logy to the Judgment of the intelligent and im⯑partial Reader, advertiſing him only in this Place, that he is not to expect a Methodical Treatiſe of elaborate Criticiſm, but only a Train of occaſional Thoughts and Reflections, as they occur'd to me upon the Peruſal of the Poem of Elfrida, and the Letters prefix'd to it.
'Tis evident from this Paſſage, the ingenious Author would have us conſider the Laws of Ari⯑ſtotle, and the Practice of Antiquity relating to the great Unities, as manifeſtly founded in the firſt Principles of Nature and Good Senſe; and ac⯑cordingly in order to adapt himſelf to the preſent Taſte no farther than might be juſtly allowable, we find him deviating from the Rules and Prac⯑tice of Antiquity but in two Inſtances; Firſt in the Choice of a Story, in which Love is the pre⯑dominant Paſſion, and Secondly, in which Cha⯑racters are repreſented as nearly approaching to private ones as Tragic Dignity would permit. Upon our Author's Hypotheſis indeed theſe are perhaps almoſt the only Deviations that could be allow'd him; and the Point muſt at once be given up, if the Theory be true which is here in ſo poſitive a manner advanc'd. For Satisfaction there⯑fore in this Matter it may be uſeful in the firſt Place to obſerve, that the Action of the antient Drama, when brought to the Perfection in which Ariſtotle found it, was ſo ſtrictly One, and the Fable ſo abſolutely Simple, and almoſt totally ab⯑horrent from Incident, at leaſt from what Mr. Maſon calls Contrivance, Refinement and Intrigue, [265] that the Conſtitution of the Drama did not ſo properly require, as ſuppoſe and imply a corre⯑ſpondent Unity of Time and Place. Nay, uſually we find among the antient Greek Poets the en⯑tire Action of the Drama was brought within the Compaſs of the Repreſentation itſelf. And in⯑deed if exact Nature and ſtrict Propriety are in⯑diſpenſably to be the Objects of the Dramatic Poet's Attention upon all Occaſions, this muſt be allow'd to be the moſt perfect Model of Tragedy; and conſequently Ariſtotle himſelf ſeems to have indulg'd the Tragic Muſe too far, when in con⯑formity with the ſometime Practice of the Greek Poets, He has preſcrib'd a Day as the due and regular Boundary of all Dramatic Action. For certainly a Day cannot really be compriz'd within the Space of five Hours any more than a Year, or any preciſe Duration whatſoever. The Truth is, Poetry was the Mother of Criticiſm, not Cri⯑ticiſm of Poetry, and accordingly this great Phi⯑loſopher form'd his ſimple Notions and Rules upon the beſt Plan of the Drama then extant; but I cannot think it will by any Means follow that thoſe Rules are in all Points of perpetual and neceſſary Obligation: For why was it not in it⯑ſelf as agreeable to Nature and Reaſon for the Poets to admit Contrivance and Policy, Deſign and Intrigue into the Conſtitution of the Fable, as it could poſſibly be to confine themſelves to the [266] Repreſentation of the moſt ſimple and uniform Action; eſpecially as they hereby improv'd, and heighten'd that Perplexity, and Diſtreſs, which are the great Sources of Delight in Dramatic En⯑tertainment? I ſay this Latitude of Deſign is not in itſelf unreaſonable or unnatural, becauſe 'tis not to be diſſembled that the Liberty contended for would indeed be, as it has been, in the Hands of the unſkilful and injudicious, an Inlet to Con⯑fuſion and Abſurdity. However it will not ſurely be denied that there is in Fact a very material Difference between Incidents, and the Variety of Deſigns and Contrivances that occaſion them, and mere Buſtle and Buſineſs; in his contempt of which Word Mr. Maſon ſeems willing to involve the whole Syſtem of Dramatic Intrigue. The general Theory I would therefore advance is this, (for I would not be underſtood to aſſert it admits of no Exception) that it is not barely the Privi⯑lege, but often even the Duty of the Dramatic Poet to adapt himſelf to the Viciſſitudes of Public Taſte, and to repreſent human Life, and human Actions as he finds them; and if in Purſuance of this Deſign, he may think it expedient to make Choice of a Subject of ſuch a complicated Nature as cannot with Eaſe and Conſiſtency be diſpatch'd within the ſtatutable Limits of Time, and Place, I cannot ſee why we may not indulge him with a proportionable Allowance of each, in order to [267] prevent infinitely greater Abſurdities and Incon⯑ſiſtencies than that Allowance can poſſibly pro⯑duce, that is, thoſe confus'd and precipitate Action. And all this while the Extenſiveneſs of the Deſign, provided it be executed with Judg⯑ment in other Reſpects, deſerves rather to be look'd upon as an Excellence and an Improve⯑ment upon the old Model, than to be placed to the Account either of the Ignorance or the Inat⯑tention of the Writer; of which more hereafter.
This Paſſage which I have quoted verbatim (abating a few Expreſſions in it) exactly coincides with my ſentiment upon this Head; and the Ap⯑plication which the Author makes of it in Favour of Corneille, may, I preſume, be made with equal Propriety at leaſt in Behalf of our Shakeſpeare.—I am ſenſible all this while that this great Prince and Father of the Engliſh Stage is ſuppoſed by Mr. Maſon to have ſhewn a total Diſregard of all the Rules of the Drama, in Compliance merely with the Taſte of the Times. I muſt own, I could have been glad to have ſeen fewer Things ſuppoſed upon this Subject. I will take the Liberty like⯑wiſe to ſuppoſe that this great Poet ſaw no legal or neceſſary Reſtraint upon the Force and Impetuo⯑ſity of his Genius with Regard to the Unities of Action, Time and Place; that he conſidered the Laws relating to them as merely local and tem⯑porary, well adapted indeed to the ſimple Genius of antient Tragedy, but in themſelves and the Reaſon of Things diſpenſable upon the Suppoſition of a Dramatic Plan of a more extenſive and com⯑plicated Nature. His Opinion might be (like the [269] current one mentioned in Mr. Maſon's ſecond Letter) that ‘the ſtrict Adherence to the Unities reſtrains the Genius of the Poet; by the Simpli⯑city of it's Conduct diminiſhes the Pathos of the Fable; and by the Admiſſion of a continued Chorus prevents that agreeable Embarraſs, which awakens our Attention, and intereſts our Paſſions.’—However, that the Nature of Dra⯑matic Poetry will not only admit of a more ex⯑tenſive Model than the Tragedies of the Greek Poets furniſh us with, but is alſo improveable by the ſame, if it cannot be proved, may at leaſt I think be inferr'd even from the Doctrine of Ariſtotle himſelf. This great Critic, it is very well known, calls the Fable the Soul of Tragedy; with a manifeſt Eye to which Expreſſion, Mr. Dryden obſerves that Ariſtotle places the Fable firſt, ‘non quoad Dignitatem, ſed quoad Funda⯑mentum.’ And indeed we need only refer the Reader to the ſimple Arguments of Aeſchylus, and even of Euripides and Sophocles for the moſt part too, to convince him that the Fable upon the antient Plan of the Drama cannot properly be ſaid to be the Soul of the Poem in any other Senſe, than as it is the Subject of it. Nay, this is in a great Meaſure the Caſe even of thoſe antient Tra⯑gedies which are of the implex Kind, and, as ſuch, eſteemed moſt excellent by our Philoſopher. One main Argument uſed by him for the Priority [270] of the Fable in the conſtituent Parts of Tragedy is taken from the Conſideration of the ſud⯑den Revolutions and Diſcoveries, (the * [...] as he calls them) which diſtinguiſh the Tragedies we are ſpeaking of from thoſe of the ſimpleſt Kind. Theſe are the means, ſays he, by which Tragedy more par⯑ticularly captivates and engages ( [...]) the Mind and Affections.
Now if this Doctrine be applied to the modern Drama, it ſeems to me not only an Apology for, but in Effect a Recommendation of the Incidents and Revolutions, which are infinitely more nu⯑merous upon the Britiſh Stage than they were upon that of Athens, and are ſo offenſive to ſqueamiſh Judgments; unleſs it can be proved that theſe under the Direction of a good Judgment do not contribute to, or rather conſtitute that Va⯑riety which Ariſtotle plainly refers to in the Paſ⯑ſage quoted; or that ſuch Variety in modern Plays has not a proportionable Influence on the Paſſions, upon which, as Mr. Maſon rightly has obſerved, it is the Buſineſs of the Tragic Muſe "directly to ſtrike."—If therefore the Fable be the Soul of Tragedy, I will venture to aſſert, there is more Soul in a good modern Tragedy, than in the beſt antient one; and that Mr. Dryden might very properly, and therefore gravely call ſecret [271] Intrigues the Beauties of our modern Stage. Indeed that great Man in ſome occaſional Re⯑marks he made on Mr. Rymer's Reflections on the Tragedies of Fletcher, &c. makes no ſcruple to give the Preference to our Engliſh Poets before the Antients under this very Article of Enquiry: ‘Next ſhew, ſays he, in what An⯑tient Tragedy was deficient; for Example, in the Narrowneſs of it's Plots, and Fewneſs of Perſons, and try whether that be not a Fault in the Greek Poets; and whether their Excel⯑lency was ſo great, when the Variety was vi⯑ſibly ſo little; or whether what they did was not very eaſy to be done.’
In Oppoſition to this the following Words of the ingenious Author of the Notes &c. already referred to, may poſſibly be urged. ‘An Unity, (ſays he, ſpeaking of the two Dramas) and even Simplicity in the Conduct of the Fable is a Perfection in each. For the Courſe of the Affections is diverted and weakened by the In⯑tervention of what we call a double Plot; and even by a Multiplicity of ſubordinate Events, though tending to a common End; and, of Perſons, though all of them, ſome Way, con⯑cerned in promoting it. The like Conſidera⯑tion ſhews the Obſervance of this Rule to be eſſential in juſt Comedy. For when the Atten⯑tion is ſplit on ſo many interfering Objects, we are not at leiſure to obſerve, nor do we fully [272] enter into the Truth of Repreſentation in any of them; the Senſe of Humour, as of the Pathos, depending very much on the continued and undiverted Operation of it's Object upon us.’ But in anſwer to this, I will venture to aſſert in my Turn, that the Intervention of what we call a Double-Plot, a competent Number (not Multipli⯑city) of ſubordinate Events tending to a common End, and of Perſons all of them ſome way con⯑cern'd in promoting it, do not weaken, but eaſe and relieve the Courſe of the Affections; and alſo, that in Comedy, the Attention is really quicken'd even by being ſplit on ſo many interfering Ob⯑jects;—that different and oppoſite Characters ſet off and illuſtrate each other;—and that we are enabled by a proper Variety of Perſonages more preciſely to obſerve and fully to enter into The Truth of Repreſentation in all of them: And con⯑ſequently that a Comedy with a Double-Plot art⯑fully conducted, and fill'd judiciouſly, not cramm'd with Incidents and Intrigue, in which the ſeveral Perſons of the Drama have room to exerciſe, and diſplay themſelves, attains it's End, which is the Rotation of Characters, and their ſpecific Differ⯑ences, (as this Author well obſerves) more effec⯑tually, than the ſimple, and contracted Comedy of the Antients; but this Matter I have handled more at large *elſewhere, and in the mean time [273] let theſe reſpective Opinions be left to the Deciſion of Fact and Experience.—To return to Mr. Maſon.
‘I ſhould be loth indeed to ſee Incidents, Buſtle, and Buſineſs ſupply the Place of Simpli⯑city, Nature and Pathos.’ which, 'tis not to be denied, is the Caſe in ſome modern Performances. But that the former are likewiſe very conſiſtent with the latter, and that ſuch Conſiſtency and Union is one great Point of Dramatic Compoſi⯑tion, as calculated for the rational Entertainment of an Audience, may be exemplified in many il⯑luſtrious Inſtances; particularly in the Tragedies of Shakeſpear. It is true this inimitable Poet, is not ſo greatly remarkable for Depth of Plot and Intricacy of Contrivance, as for the Hiſtorical Con⯑tinuation of his Deſign, (which, by the way, is in⯑deed carried to an unreaſonable Length in ſome of his Plays) but however, as ſuch Hiſtorical Con⯑tinuation neceſſarily implies a great Variety of In⯑cidents and Revolutions, it is fairly reducible to the ſame Head of Diſquiſition. Shakeſpear indeed, for the moſt part, form'd his Dramatic Plans from Hiſtory, or Romance, and therefore has no ex⯑traordinary Claim to the Glory of Invention, either as to the Subject of his Tragedies, or the Conduct of his Plots. His Excellencies, for the moſt part, are purely Poetical. But this is far from being the Caſe of all our Dramatic Writers. The [274] Ground-work of the greateſt part of our Engliſh Tragedies is indeed Hiſtorical; but the Superſtruc⯑ture is their own. The whole Buſineſs of Plot, Intrigue, and Contrivance, is generally the Work of the Poets; and a Work, when executed with Art and Judgment, that ſhews them to be ſupe⯑riour at leaſt to their Forefathers of Greece in the ample Field of Invention (the firſt Point in Poetry): and therefore I ſhould think ſome of Mr. Maſon's Expreſſions, relating to the kind Aſſiſtance of the Violin to the Diſtreſs of the Hero or the Poet on the Britiſh Stage, may in ſome meaſure be retorted upon himſelf, and thoſe whoſe Cauſe he eſpouſes. For though an inter⯑mediate Space between the Acts may be requiſite for the Purpoſes of the Modern Drama, and even to ſave Appearances of the Probability of the De⯑ſign, yet I can by no means admit theſe pruden⯑tial Pauſes to be Proofs in themſelves of the Di⯑ſtreſs or Barrenneſs of the Writer. Methinks to the Relief of theſe, the antient Chorus ſeems more peculiarly adapted, when the Drama, by reaſon of the Scantineſs, or if you pleaſe Simplicity of it's Matter, and the Narrowneſs of it's Plots, ſtood in abſolute Need of ſuch ſeaſonable and friendly Interpoſition: But to the Chorus I am to pay my Compliments again by and by.—
It ſhould be obſerv'd here, I am ſuppoſing all this while that, notwithſtanding the Extenſiveneſs [275] of Deſign in modern Tragedies, a due, and even ſcrupulous Regard is to be had to Conſiſtency and Uniformity of Plot and Action; That there is to be but one grand central Point as it were, in which the ſeveral Underplots, Incidents, Turns, and Viciſſitudes of the Drama are finally to ter⯑minate; and that though the great Buſineſs of the Poet under this Article be to perplex and embar⯑raſs his Audience, and to play with their Paſſions at pleaſure, yet he is to take Care that the Un⯑ravelling of the whole, and the ſeveral Parts, be eaſy and natural, and the Labyrinths of his Plots ſuch as, according to Mr. Addiſon's Expreſſion upon another Occaſion, may be juſtly deem'd a regular Confuſion. If proper Care and Caution be taken as to theſe particulars, I confeſs I am apt to look upon the Tranſgreſſion of the Letter of the old Laws of Tragedy as Offences rather againſt the Cuſtom and Uſage of Antiquity, than the Dictates of Reaſon and Nature; and, as great a Veneration as I have for the antient Poets, cannot poſſibly think I am maintaining an Argument to the prejudice of their real Merit, by endeavouring to aſſert the Liberty of modern Poets, and to reſcue the Drama from Ariſtotle's * Magna Charta of Reſtraint.
To ſpeak freely, I muſt own farther, I cannot ſubſcribe to a Theory that condemns at one Daſh [276] almoſt every Compliance with Public Taſte, and the Genius of a People, as mere Complaiſance and Servility: I believe a Greek Poet now alive would adapt himſelf to the Taſte of the Times in more Inſtances than Mr. Maſon would allow; and that theſe have been occaſionally more or leſs conſulted and indulged by all Poets in all Ages. Not that I am of Mr. Southern's Opinion (See his Preface to the Fatal Marriage) that every reaſon⯑able Man will, and ought to govern in the Plea⯑ſures he pays for; for in ſuch Caſe Hamlet muſt walk off the Stage to make room for Harlequin.—I would neither ſervilely indulge Public Taſte, nor yet ſelf-ſufficiently deſpiſe it.—I am willing upon this Occaſion once more to ſhelter myſelf under the Authority of Dryden.
One reaſon of that Succeſs (ſays he in the above-cited Remarks) is in my Opinion this, that Shakeſpear and Fletcher have written to the Genius of the Age and Nation in which they lived: For though Nature, as he (Mr. Rymer) objects, is the ſame in all Places, and Reaſon too the ſame; yet the Climate, the Age, the Diſpoſitions of the People to whom a Poet writes, may be ſo different, that what pleas'd the Greeks, would not ſatisfy an Engliſh Au⯑dience.
And if they proceeded upon a Foundation of truer Reaſon to pleaſe the Athenians, than [277] Shakeſpear and Fletcher to pleaſe the Engliſh, it only ſhows that the Athenians were a more judicious People: But the Poet's Buſineſs is certainly to pleaſe the Audience.
Whether our Engliſh Audience have been pleaſed hitherto with Acorns, as he calls it, or with Bread, is the next Queſtion; that is, whether the Means which Shakeſpear and Fletcher have uſed in their Plays to raiſe thoſe Paſſions before-named, be better applied to the Ends by the Greek Poets, than by them; and perhaps we ſhall not grant him this wholly. Let it be yielded, that a Writer is not to run down with the Stream, or to pleaſe the People by their own uſual Methods, but rather to [...] ⯑form form their Judgments; it ſtill remains to be proved, that our Theatre needs this total Re⯑formation.—The Faults which he h [...]s found in their Deſigns, are rather wittily aggravated in many Places, than reaſonably urg'd; and as much may be returned on the Greeks, by one who were as witty as himelf:
Mr. Dryden is here compa [...]ng the Ancients with the Moderns, in regard to the Conduct and Command of the two great Tragical Paſſions, Pity and Terrour, and the Compariſon concludes to the Advantage of the latter.
A little farther he proceeds thus, ‘To con⯑clude thereore: if the Plays of the Ancients are [278] more correctly plotted, ours are more beauti⯑fully written; and if we can raiſe Paſſions as high on worſe Foundations, it ſhews our Ge⯑nius in Tragedy is greater, for in all other Parts of it, the Engliſh have manifeſtly excelled them.’
I do lot uſe this as an accurate Piece of Cri⯑ticiſm, nor would be underſtood to oppoſe the Authority of Mr. Dryden, to the Ipſe dixit of Ariſtotle in general, who has certainly a right to be heard firſt, in critical as well as philoſophical Matters, with a proportionable Conſideration of the Age he lived in: The only Point in Debate is, whether he can be ſuppoſed in the Nature of Things, from the clear Idea he had form'd of the Greek Drama, to be qualified to give Poetical Laws to all Poſterity.—Public Taſte, it is pro⯑bable, (as Mr. Dryden intimates) [...]ries in dif⯑ferent [279] Countries, according to the Nature of the Climate, and the Conſtitution of the People: However, there are ſome certain, fix'd, and ac⯑knowledged Principles of Good Senſe, Nature and Reaſon, that are, as Mr. Rymer obſerves, equally and univerſally, in all Ages and Nations, at leaſt all civilized ones, the ſame: I believe there has been hardly any Age ſo illiterate, whimſical, or corrupted in this Senſe, as to explode theſe ſtand⯑ing Principles; ſuch for Inſtance, among many others, are the following: That the Drama is to be the true Image and Repreſentation of Nature: That this Repreſentation can only be exhibited under an infinite Variety of Actions, Deſigns, Characters, Manners, Sentiments and Expreſſions: That with regard to all, and each of theſe, Pro⯑priety, Conſiſtency, and Probability are moſt ex⯑actly to be obſerved: That the Motives to all Actions, the Springs of all Paſſions, the Grounds of all Prejudices, the Peculiarities of all Tempers, have one common Foundation, and are produc⯑tive of their correſpondent Effects, in all Times and Places.—The Knowlege of theſe Things is the Knowlege of Nature, in which the great Arcana of all Poetry, and particularly Dramatic, are repoſited. To theſe, therefore, it is the Dra⯑matic Poets Care moſt heedfully to attend; and to theſe he may attend, in Fact, very conſiſtently, with a Diſregard of the Laws of the old Drama, [280] as might be inſtanced in many of our beſt Mo⯑dern Plays, and in almoſt all of Shakeſpear's.—It is, indeed, nothing but this Attention that has ſo eminently raiſed and preſerved the Reputation of theſe latter, notwithſtanding the Poet's abſolute Neglect, or rather Defiance of the great Unities contended for as eſſential to the Drama. And 'tis as certain, that where this Attention is wanting, either through Ignorance or Careleſſneſs, the moſt regular Obſervance of theſe Unities will be found utterly inſufficient for the true Purpoſes of Stage-Poetry.
For theſe, and the like Reaſons, I think one may venture to conclude, that the Practice of the Antients is by no means a neceſſary Standard of Dramatic writing, and that the Laws relating to the ſeveral Unities of Action, Time, and Place, though they do indeed conſtitute a particular Form, or Species of the Drama, (and we will grant the moſt exact too) yet are by no means eſſential to the Nature of it. Whatever is ſo, cannot be violated or infringed without Contra⯑diction to the common Judgment of Mankind, and diſguſting at leaſt, the more rational Part of an Audience. And accordingly every Defect in the Particulars above-mentioned, is always re⯑ceived with proportionable Marks of Diſappro⯑bation. But the Caſe is quite different, in reſpect of the Liberties Shakeſpear has taken, which [281] therefore, I can never think abſurd or unnatural in themſelves. And I am the more confirmed in this Opinion, becauſe Johnſon, Fletcher, and many others, who were confeſſedly acquainted with the Genius of ancient Tragedy, and, generally ſpeaking, not only affected Art and Regularity in their Writings, but even depended principally upon theſe for the Succeſs of them, did never⯑theleſs, on many Occaſions, hold themſelves free from the Obligation of the Laws at preſent in Queſtion.
But herein, our modern Refiners will ſay they judged wrong; and as to Shakeſpear, if he has eſcaped the Severity of Cenſure upon this Head, it muſt be aſcribed wholly to that Complaiſance, which every Generation has thought due to his Excellencies in the higher Beauties of Poetry.—Now this Anſwer, (and ſomething to this Effect muſt be the Anſwer) does itſelf ſuppoſe, that the moſt punctual Obſervance of the old Laws, has no Connection with the great Beauties of Poetry, but is only at beſt the mechanical Part of the Drama: However, 'tis preſum'd that the great Name of Shakeſpear, ſcorns to be protected by the Complaiſance of his Countrymen; and that the Liberties he has taken, are very far from being indefenſible.—For is it more improper and irrational, or does it require leſs Force of of Genius, and Knowlege of Nature, to trace as [282] it were a Paſſion from it's firſt Riſe, through it's Progreſs, and to it's final Iſſue, as that of Jea⯑louſy in Othello, or of Ambition in Macbeth, than to repreſent it only at a ſtated Period, and at a particular Criſis? Or, if the Poet thinks proper to ſhift the Scene from a Palace to a Heath, or from Venice to Cyprus, is it at all more inconvenient or impoſſible for his Audience to attend him, than it was to give him the Meeting, and ſuppoſe them⯑ſelves in the Place where he laid his firſt Scene? It does not at all appear to me, that a greater Degree of implicit Faith is required in one In⯑ſtance than in the other: For he may with equal Probability do both, UT MAGUS, as has been hinted above, and he can do neither but in Qua⯑lity of the ſame. Times and Places are in a great Meaſure at the Command of a Genius; and the Argument drawn from the abſolute Unna⯑turalneſs of every Breach of exact and preciſe Unity with regard to them, if it proves any Thing, proves too much; it will prove the Unna⯑turalneſs of the whole Dramatic Apparatus; it will demonſtrate the Impoſſibility of exhibiting Woods, Fields, Caſtles, and Towns, in a ſingle Room, and the Abſurdity of giving an Ear to a Company of Fidlers, before or after the Solemnity of a Council, or the Tumult of a Battle. In ſhort, it ſeems to me a moſt ridiculous Hypercriticiſm, to object to Improprieties which are more or leſs [283] inſeparable from the Conſtitution of the Drama, and to talk of Inconſiſtencies and Impoſſibilities, where all is confeſſedly a Deluſion. If the Que⯑ſtion indeed were, whether of the two be the more artificial Model of Tragedy, that of the Ancients, or the Moderns, I would make no Scruple to give up the Argument: But a regular and exact Model is one Thing, and an excellent Play is another; it is one Thing to allow a rea⯑ſonable Latitude to a great Genius, and another to preſcribe a Plan to a common Poet.
Were the antient Greek Tragedians defective then in Point of Genius, it will be aſk'd? Very far from it.—However, I will venture to aſſert, that the Simplicity, (I had almoſt ſaid Poverty) of their Fables, is by no means their ſtriking Beauty; that theſe would have appeared to greater Advantage, had they taken greater Liberties; that neither Nature nor Reaſon reſtrained them to the preciſe Obſervation of the three Unities, and that the Cuſtom of Antiquity in this Caſe, under the Abilities of a great Maſter, would (to uſe the Words of Shakeſpear) be more frequently ho⯑noured in the Breach, than the Obſervance.
But what if, after all, ſome Precedents even from Antiquity itſelf, will in a certain Meaſure warrant the Non-obſervance of the great Rules in Diſpute? Euripides and Sophocles, who confeſſedly improved the more ſimple Plan of their Prede⯑ceſſor [284] Aeſchylus, and are ſuppoſed to have brought the Drama to it's State of Perfection, do not ſuperſtitiouſly, and without Exception, adhere to their own general Syſtem: Witneſs firſt, the Hecuba of Euripides; in which there are appa⯑rently two diſtinct, and almoſt unconnected Ac⯑tions; at leaſt, out of the two great Incidents of that Tragedy, two diſtinct Actions might have been plan'd; for either the Death of Polixena, or the Deſtruction of Polymneſtor, might, and ſtrictly ſpeaking ought, to have been the ſimple Subject of that Drama. If it be ſaid that both theſe Ac⯑tions (or Incidents) were no more than were ſuf⯑ficient or neceſſary to exemplify the Diſtreſſes of Hecuba, and to illuſtrate the Character of that unhappy Princeſs, this is ſaying, in effect, what we have already ſaid, in Defence of the compli⯑cated Plan of modern Dramatiſts; and ſo,
Again, the Ajax of Sophocles ought to have ended with it's natural Cataſtrophe, the Death of this Hero; inſtead of which another Action, pro⯑perly ſpeaking, commences, ariſing from the vio⯑lent Conteſt between Teucer and Agamemnon con⯑cerning the forementioned Hero's Right of Burial; a Conteſt, which, if the Poet in the preſent Caſe had ſtudied, or even regarded abſolute Simplicity and Uniformity, he ſhould have reſerved for the Groundwork of another Tragedy.—And further [285] the Trachiniae of the ſame excellent Author is manifeſtly defective in Point of Unity of Time; of which much more muſt naturally be ſup⯑poſed to have lapſed between the Departure of Hyllus to inquire after his Father, and his Return to Trachin than the Letter of the Dramatic Law allowed him.—Theſe Defects and Irregularities I have never ſeen taken Notice of, and much leſs ob⯑jected to theſe juſtly admired Writers. And though we could bring no other Examples to the ſame Purpoſe than the above cited, or however none ſo obvious as theſe, yet 'tis apprehended a ſingle Inſtance of this Nature is of very conſiderable Weight and Conſequence in the preſent Contro⯑verſy; and will warrant us in determining that the ſtrict Laws of the Drama were not of indiſ⯑penſable Obligation, even in the Judgment of the Antients themſelves.—Indeed if they are, the Merit of a Poet ſhould be tried chiefly at leaſt by them; and therefore when Mr. Maſon tells us that Shakeſpear ought, for his other Virtues, to be exempted from common Rules, he is unjuſtifi⯑ably candid and indulgent to him; for ſure he ought by no Means to be exempted, if ſuch Rules are founded in the indiſpenſable Laws and firſt Principles of Nature and good Senſe. If he is fun⯑damentally and eſſentially ridiculous, a thouſand in⯑feriour Beauties will not excuſe him. Common Rules are therefore upon certain important Conſi⯑derations diſpenſable; and if ſo, Shakeſpear's Beau⯑ties do not ſo properly excuſe, as acquit him.
[286] If the judicious Reader will apply here, by the Way, ſome of the foregoing Remarks to the Caſe of Tragi-Comedy, he will be able perhaps to ac⯑count not only for the Toleration, but alſo gra⯑cious Reception of ſo motley a Production upon the Engliſh Stage. For though Shakeſpear, with his Contemporaries and many Succeſſors, did in ſuch Pieces undeniably humour the public Taſte to their own Diſcredit, yet 'tis to be obſerved, that the grand Arcana of Nature above intimated might be ſcrupulouſly attended to even in this heterogeneous Compoſition; and accordingly when the Tragic and Comic Repreſentation was each excellent in it's Kind, it is no Wonder that the Bulk of an Audience ſhould overlook the manifeſt Impropriety of the Coalition, or that the more judicious Part ſhould forgive it for the Sake of the fundamental and eſſential Excellencies of the re⯑ſpective Actions and Repreſentations. It is plainly for this Reaſon that the beſt Tragi-Comedies of Shakeſpear and others are received with general Applauſe at this very Day; the Ground of Com⯑plaint againſt ſuch Tragic and Comic Union be⯑ing really not ſo much that it offends the Judg⯑ment, as that it improperly divides the Attention. Two ſeparate Plots, and diſtinct Actions do this to a ridiculous Degree; but in one and the ſame Action abſolute Uniformity is not eſſential either to the Tragic or Comic Drama. For tho' the [287] Pathos be the Characteriſtic of Tragedy, and Hu⯑mour of Comedy, as well ancient as modern, yet the former will admit of Characters of Pleaſantry under certain Regulations, and the latter is fre⯑quently known to abound with Circumſtances of very affecting, tho' domeſtic Diſtreſs; of which many Inſtances might, if need were, be on both ſides produced, in the ſeveral Dramas both of Antients and Moderns. Nor does ſuch occaſional and moderate Reciprocation confound or deſtroy the different Genius, Nature, and End, of the two Species. And it was probably owing to ſome injudicious Writer's Miſapplication of this Truth, and his drawing undue and falſe Conſequences from it, and even in his own Imagination im⯑proving it, that either the Name, or the Conſti⯑tution of Tragi-Comedy did ever ſubſiſt. For the Reaſons why Plautus calls his Amphitrion a Tragi-Comedy, are of a Nature entirely different from this. However, the great Objection to this Form of Dramatic Compoſition is certainly, as has been ſaid, that it unſuitably divides the Attention, not that it leſſens it, or by exciting many different Paſ⯑ſions in the ſame Space of Time checks the Force of any ſingle one. That the Attention in a very uniform and regular Play, may be divided without being leſſened, we have already obſerved; and indeed, if this were not the Caſe, abſolute Uni⯑formity and Simplicity muſt be really eſſential to [288] the two Species of the Drama, and every reci⯑procal Participation will be proportionably, to the Degree of it, abſurd. But to aſſert this, would be talking againſt Reaſon, Experience, and the not uncommon Practice of the beſt Poets. Is any Man leſs mov'd by the Delicacy and Tenderneſs of Lord Townley, upon his Separation from his Wife, on Account of the Mirth that was before excited in him, by the ridiculous Ignorance, and Ruſticity of Sir Francis Wronghead? Do we leſs intereſt ourſelves in the Fate of the unhappy In⯑diana, becauſe we were diverted by the cox⯑combical Pertneſs of Mr. Thomas? Should we be more affected by the pathetical Complaints of Romeo, if they were not contraſted in the Buf⯑foonery of Mercutio? Or, to refer the Reader to a Play or two written directly upon the Tragi⯑comic Plan, does the iniquitous Drollery of the Spaniſh Friar abate our Concern for the Diſtreſſes of Torriſmond and Leonora? Or, do the comical Rhodomontades, and Humours of Falſtaff and his Aſſociates, take off our Attention from the Bravery of Prince Henry or Hotſpur, &c. &c. at the Battle of Shrewſbury.—I am very far from contending for this Mixture, not of oppoſite, but indeed con⯑tradictory Characters, in the ſame Drama, and much leſs for the Form of Tragi-Comedy itſelf: Proper and due Uniformity admits of ſufficient Variety, and though it be not eſſential to the [289] Drama, is no doubt a great Beauty in it: The moſt popular of the Plays I have mentioned, are not the better for their Medley of Characters; but all this while, let the Fault or Impropriety be placed in a fair Light, and aſcrib'd to it's true Cauſe, which is the real, though nice Connection, between the Genius of Tragedy, and that of Co⯑medy, and the extreme Difficulty of preciſely de⯑termining how far, or in what Degrees and Pro⯑portions the one may aſſume the Qualities and Properties of the other.
But to return to my Subject:—The ſimple Conſtitution of the ancient Drama, has indeed ſome Advantages over the more complicated one of ſucceeding Ages, but ſtill ſuch as are abun⯑dantly more than ballanc'd by thoſe of the latter. The frequent ſhifting of Scenes, for Inſtance, though it does not offend the Judgment, is yet diſguſting to the Eye of the Spectator, and ſo far the Continuation of one and the ſame Scene, is a peculiar Beauty, and Propriety. But all this while, to this Beauty and local Propriety, many other more important Points of Probability are too often ſacrific'd. This is, more or leſs, I be⯑lieve, the Caſe of all ſtrictly uniform Tragedies and Comedies, but evidently, at leaſt of ſome of our beſt Engliſh Comedies that have been written on the old Dramatic Plan; in which, notwithſtand⯑ing the Unity of Action, ſo much Buſineſs is [290] tranſacted, ſo much Intrigue carried on, by ſo many different Perſonages, in one ſingle Spot of Ground, as is utterly incredible; in which Caſe the Poet really offends againſt Reaſon, Nature, and good Senſe, purely to ſave the Appearance of doing ſo: Indeed if the Unities are eſſential to the Drama, the utmoſt Simplicity will of Courſe be a Perfection in it; and conſequently many of the moſt regular Compoſitions of our Comic Poets (as the Way of the World, and the Double Dealer of Congreve) will be found to be infinitely their worſt Productions: So ambitious have ſome been of improving the Model of the antient Drama, and yet ſo cautious at the ſame Time of taking ſuch Liberties as were abſolutely neceſſary for thoſe Improvements.
After all, Diſcretion is to be a general Rule even in the Uſe of Liberty. I would neither fetter the Dramatic Muſe, nor yet let her run wild; Deviations from the ſtrict Laws of Anti⯑quity ſhould be made not affectedly and at ran⯑dom, but with a View to Beauties of a higher Nature; not for the Eaſe of the Poet, but to the Advantage of the Poem. I would not vindicate Shakeſpear himſelf in every Inſtance of his Tranſ⯑greſſion. To ſum up all that need be ſaid upon this Point in a few Words; the old Laws of Ariſtotle are in my Opinion very proper Regula⯑tions and Reſtraints for an indifferent Poet, but ought not to be the Shackles of a good one.
[291] The other great Point of Difference between the antient and modern Drama, is the Diſuſe of the Chorus in the latter; which yet Mr. Maſon is "willing to think eſſential to the Tragic Drama." Now admitting the Theory of Ariſtotle and Mr. Maſon to be not only a regular, but alſo neceſſary Standard of Dramatic Writings, with Reſpect to the Unities of Action, Time and Place, the Chorus, though not eſſential to the Drama, will indeed as Mr. Maſon obſerves ‘lay a proper and neceſſary Reſtraint upon the Poet.’ But if theſe Unities themſelves are far from being eſſen⯑tial to the Drama, as we have endeavoured to make it appear, the Uſe of the Chorus is ſo far at leaſt ſuperſeded.—The Chorus was indeed, as I have before obſerved, not only a conſtituent Part of, but even a Convenience to the antient Tragedy. If I might be excuſed the Indelicacy of the Expreſſion for the Significancy of the Senti⯑ment, I would ſay, let a Tragedy of Aeſchylus be gutted of it's Chorus, and you leave it little better than a Skeleton.
To proceed; upon the ſimple Plan of Anti⯑quity the Chorus introduced, 'tis true, an agreeable Variety into the Drama, and was no doubt both uſeful and ornamental to it, as it's peculiar Pro⯑vince had more immediate Reference to the great Ends of all Poetry, prodeſſe & delectare. But after all, if theſe great Ends are better, or even as well [292] anſwered without the Chorus; and if theſe Ends are not obſtructed by the Admiſſion of Deſign, Contrivance and Intrigue into the Fable, but even promoted by it under the Conduct of a maſterly Hand, in this Caſe, I ſay, it is not to be denied but the Chorus of the Antients has given Place to it's Betters.—It is true Mr. Maſon has very poſitively aſſerted (for I think he has by no Means ſuffici⯑ently proved) in Behalf of the old Chorus, that (to lay no Streſs upon ſubordinate Advantages) it aug⯑mented the Pathetic, that it afforded ‘a graceful, and natural Reſource to the Embelliſhments of pictureſque Deſcription, ſublime Allegory, and whatever elſe comes under the Denomination of pure Poetry;’ and laſtly, which is moſt material, that it was the propereſt Vehicle ‘to convey mo⯑ral Reflections with Grace and Propriety.’ For theſe Reaſons, which reſpect both the Poet and the Audience, he judges the Diſuſe of the Chorus to be an irreparable Loſs to the modern Stage. Let us briefly then review what this Gentleman has ſaid upon each of theſe Articles.
Now with Regard to the firſt he offers us the Authority of a Frenchman. ‘If you aſk me (ſays he) how it augmented the Pathetic, I cannot give you a better Anſwer than the Abbè Vatry has done in his Diſſertation on the Subject pub⯑liſhed in the Memoirs de l' Acad. des Inſer. &c. It affected this (ſays he) both in it's Odes and [293] Dialogue. The wonderful Power of Muſic and the Dance is univerſally allowed. And, as theſe were always Accompaniments to the Odes, there is no Doubt but they contributed greatly to move the Paſſions. It was neceſſary that there ſhould be Odes or Interludes; but it was alſo neceſſary, that theſe Interludes ſhould not ſuffer the Minds of the Audience to cool, but, on the contrary, ſhould ſupport and fortify thoſe Paſſions, which the previous Scenes had already excited. Nothing imaginable could produce this Effect better, than the choral Songs and Dances, which filled the Mind with Ideas correſponding to the Subject, and never failed to add new Force to the Sentiments of the principal Perſonages. In the Dialogue alſo, the Chorus ſerved to move the Paſſions by ſhew⯑ing to the Spectators other Spectators ſtrongly affected by the Action. A Spectacle of ſuch a Kind as is fitted to excite in us the Paſſions of Terrour and Pity, will not of itſelf ſo ſtrongly affect us, as when we ſee others alſo affected by it. The Painters have generally underſtood this Secret, and have had Recourſe to an Ex⯑pedient ſimilar to that of the Chorus of the Poets. Not content with the ſimple Repreſen⯑tation of an hiſtorical Event, they have alſo added Groupes of aſſiſtant Figures, and expreſt in their Faces the different Paſſions, they would [294] have their Picture excite. Nay they ſome⯑times inliſt into their Service even irrational Animals. In the Slaughter of the Innocents, LE BRUN was not ſatisfied with expreſſing all the Horrour, of which the Subject is naturally capable; he has alſo painted two Horſes with their Hair ſtanding on End, and ſtarting back, as afraid to trample upon the bleeding Infants. This is an Artifice which has often been em⯑ployed, and which has always ſucceeded. A good Poet ſhould do the ſame; and Iphigenia ſhould not be ſuffered to appear on the Theatre, without being accompanied with Perſons ca⯑pable of feeling her Misfortunes.’
I have tranſcribed the whole Paſſage, and can't help nothing in the firſt Place, a very extraordinary Inaccuracy in this refin'd Portion of Criticiſm. For ſure the above-mentioned Horſes, with their "Hair ſtanding on End," and "ſtarting back," &c. did greatly add to the Horrour of this famous Piece, which yet before had, it ſeems, all the Horrour expreſſed in it, of which the Subject was naturally capable; or, if they did not aug⯑ment this Horrour, it will be difficult methinks to to tell what Buſineſs they had there. But to be ſerious:
The wonderful Power of Muſic is univerſally allow'd; and Muſic is by no Means excluded from the modern Stage. Nay, I venture to ſay, the [295] modern Drama has Recourſe to it more effectually, though leſs frequently, than the old Drama had; as we are more affected by it's occaſional and un⯑expected Graces and Aſſiſtances, than we ſhould be by it's ſtated and periodical Interpoſition.—For the Dance, I own I am at a Loſs to compre⯑hend how it could contribute greatly to move the Paſſions; I mean the Paſſions proper for Tragedy: I do not pretend to aſcertain the Nature and Me⯑thod of the antient Stage-Dancing; but ſuch has been the Power of the Dance in later Times, that the Tragic Muſe, who is a very grave Matron, has, I believe, no Reaſon to lament her dancing Days are over. Admitting therefore at preſent the Pro⯑priety and Efficacy of the Choral Songs, I cannot conceive how any Kind of Dance ‘ſhould ſup⯑port and fortify thoſe Paſſions, which the pre⯑vious Scenes had excited,’ or ‘fill the Mind with Ideas correſponding to the Subject, and never fail to add new Force to the Sentiments of the principal Perſonages.’ Nor farther can I ſee any Thing even in the Songs, or Odes, which had ſo peculiar a Tendency to produce theſe Ef⯑fects, that nothing imaginable could do it as well; for tho' theſe might anſwer this Purpoſe very ſuf⯑ficiently, yet if they were not neceſſary for it, they cannot be contended for as eſſential to the Drama, and muſt conſequently be conſidered only, as we have before obſerved, in the Light of [296] an ancient Conveniency.—Now I apprehend the Minds of the Audience are in no Danger of cool⯑ing under the preſent Syſtem of the Drama, and that the Muſic between the Acts may be adapted to the Purpoſes fore-named, of ſupporting and fortifying the Paſſions as much as the old Chorus could be. Without depreciating therefore the real Uſe and Deſign of the Chorus, we only ſay we can do in many Reſpects better, and even in this as well without it.
But farther it ſeems, ‘In the Dialogue alſo, the Chorus ſerved to move the Paſſions, by ſhew⯑ing to the Spectators, other Spectators ſtrongly affected by the Action.’ For, ‘a Spectacle of ſuch a Kind as is fitted to excite in us the Paſſions of Terrour, and Pity, will not of itſelf ſo ſtrongly affect us, as when we ſee others alſo affected by it.’ Admitting the Truth of which Aſſertion, I do not ſee what is to be inferr'd from it to the Advantage of the antient Chorus. For does not the modern Drama move the Paſ⯑ſions (as indeed does the antient excluſive of it's Chorus) by ſhewing to the Spectators other Per⯑ſons (not mere Spectators, but Perſons more in⯑tereſted in the Action) ſtrongly affected by the Events of the Tragedy? The Intervention there⯑fore of Spectators, as ſuch, upon the Stage is with Reſpect to this Purpoſe ſuperfluous and in⯑ſignificant, except it can be demonſtrated that [297] the Paſſions of Terrour and Pity, or any other are (if I may be allowed the Expreſſion) more power⯑fully excited at the ſecond Rebound.—Let common Experience at once illuſtrate and determine this Matter.—Suppoſing half a dozen indifferent Per⯑ſons admitted to a Spectacle of Terrour or Diſtreſs in real Life, for Inſtance that of a dying Man taking Leave of his Wife, his Miſtreſs, or his Friend; would not ſuch a Spectacle immediately raiſe ſuitable Emotions in all of them, or would each firſt conſult the Paſſions of his next Neighbour in order to learn what Effect this Spectacle ought to have upon himſelf? Theſe Queſtions require no Anſwer; and therefore as the Drama is ſo lively a Repreſentation of real Life, they may plainly be applied to any Caſe of Miſery or Horrour exhibited upon the Stage.—For this Reaſon alſo it is, that the Illuſtration of the Matter before us by the Expedients of the Painters is, I apprehend, (with Deference to the ingenious Abbè as Mr. Maſon calls him) entirely foreign to the preſent Purpoſe. The Painters have very wiſely had Recourſe to ſuch Expedients as are mentioned in the above-quoted Criticiſm, becauſe, after all, their Art is but Painting ſtill, and pro⯑perly ſpeaking deſcribes the Paſſions, more than it excites them; but the Drama, or rather the Actor in the Drama, realizes what he repreſents. He muſt be a very inſenſible Spectator, who thinks at [298] all of the Poet or the Player, when Mr. Garrick is perſonating a Richard, a Macbeth, or a Lear. The Poet in ſhort has not the ſame Occaſion for ſuch Artifices and Expedients as the Painter has. Let Iphigenia appear on the Theatre, and behave as ſhe ought to do, and I will be anſwerable for it, the Audience will be Perſons capable of feeling her Misfortunes.
But again, by rejecting the Chorus Mr. Maſon tells us the true Poet has loſt a ‘graceful and na⯑tural Reſource to the Embelliſhments of Pictu⯑reſque Deſcription, ſublime Allegory, and whatever elſe comes under the Denomination of pure Poetry.’ To which I take Leave to reply, That what the Poet has loſt hereby, Tragedy has gained; for if Mr. Maſon's own Theory be juſt, the Tragic Muſe (as we have before ob⯑ſerved from him) ſtrikes directly upon the Paſſions of the Audience; which I ſhould be glad to know how Pictureſque Deſcription (I mean ſuch as this Gentleman has favoured us with) ſub⯑lime Allegory, and Poetry in the Abſtract, or, if you pleaſe, pure Poetry can do. Mr. Maſon ſays, the Lyric Muſe addreſſes herſelf to the Imagination of a Reader or Hearer; and accordingly ‘few Men have a Strength of Imagination capable of purſuing the Flights of Pindar;’ and ſtill fewer, I will venture to add, thoſe of Mr. Maſon in this Dramatic Poem. I am very far from meaning to [299] decry this ingenious Author's peculiar Talent in loco; but I fear in the preſent Caſe, while he affects to defend the Cauſe of the old Chorus, his real Deſign was to introduce a new one. For, the Name excepted, I can diſcern little or nothing in the Odes of Mr. Maſon ſimilar to thoſe of the an⯑tient Chorus; that ‘poetical Flow of tender Commiſeration, of religious Supplication, or of virtuous Triumph,’ of which it principally conſiſted, had none of the long-ſpun Allegory, and aerial Imagery with which theſe Dramatic Sonnets of Mr. Maſon abound. In Truth it is to be wiſh'd that this profeſt Admirer, and Imitator of genu⯑ine Nature, and antient Simplicity in the Struc⯑ture of his Fable, had paid a little more Regard to them in his Diction throughout this whole Poem, and particularly in the Stile of the Choral Compoſitions under preſent Conſideration. 'Tis Pity indeed an Author ſo ſober and chaſte in his whole Oeconomy, ſhould be ſo remarkably extra⯑vagant and looſe in his Language.
In the Hymn to the Morning a great deal ſeems to be unfolded, but little diſcovered.
[300] Now I apprehend it would poſe the moſt able Linguiſt to tranſlate theſe Lines, or the moſt dex⯑trous Painter to give us a Portrait of this ange⯑lical Perſonage.
Charity has ever been rank'd with the firſt of moral Virtues; but Mr. Maſon not only perſoni⯑fies and deifies it, but likewiſe makes it a Geome⯑trician, and a Muſician into the Bargain.
Again,
—This Paſſage is I confeſs very melodious in Point of Numbers; it is indeed like Muſic itſelf; for methinks it ſounds well, and ſays nothing.—
[301] In another Ode we have ſeveral pictureſque Images of the Goddeſs CONTENT, preſented to us; now ſhe ſits upon a Bank, and liſtens to a Linnet.
—Then ſhe is gone to ſup with a Hermit, and is amazingly calm and compos'd, tho' ſhe ſeems every Minute in danger of being drown'd, or knock'd on the Head.
—In my humble Opinion theſe, and the two following Odes to Conſtancy and Truth are much [302] more calculated to exerciſe a Metaphyſical Head, than make any Impreſſions upon a ſenſible Heart: And after all, the Beauties of ſuch Ideal Poetry as this, tho' they may amuſe in the Cloſet, muſt ſurely be loſt upon the Stage. To paſs by the Ode to CONSTANCY, let us take a ſhort View of TRUTH in all her Glory.
—It is wonderful to obſerve how far a true Poetic Fancy lifts a Genius above all Proſaic Con⯑ception. Moſt of us profeſs ourſelves Admirers of the Naked Truth; but Mr. Maſon has cloth'd her more ſplendidly than ever Solomon was; tho' I think he has given her rather too fine a Buckle for ſo clumſy a Girdle.
It is indeed well obſerv'd by Mr. Pope, that He who would take Boldneſs from Poetry, muſt leave Dulneſs in the room of it; and I am very ſenſible that no Species of Poetry is allow'd greater Liberties than the Ode;
[303] SED NON UT PLACIDIS COEUNT IMMITIA, &C. Boldneſs is the Medium between Dulneſs and Temerity; the Muſe has no more Buſineſs above the Clouds, than ſhe has under the Ground; and Mr. Maſon, tho' he never creeps, is certainly a High-Flyer. The extravagant Thoughts, the far-fetch'd Alluſions, and the unconnected Ideas in moſt of theſe Odes are a Proof of it.—In truth the Heat of Imagination is apt to tranſport an Author into falſe Concluſions, and make him believe He writes Poetry, becauſe He does not write Proſe.
But farther, I can by no Means agree with Mr. Maſon that ‘if we had a Tragedy of Shake⯑ſpear's form'd on the Greek Model, we ſhould find in it more frequent, if not nobler In⯑ſtances of the high Poetical Capacity, than in any ſingle Compoſition he has left us.’ This Author thinks, ‘we have a Proof of this in thoſe parts of his Hiſtorical Plays, which are call'd Chorus's, and written in the common Dialogue Metre.’ Our ‘Imagination (continues he) will eaſily conceive, how fine an Ode the Deſcription of the Night, preceding the Battle of Agincourt, would have made in his Hands; and what additional Grace it would receive from that Form of Compoſition.’ Let us turn to the Deſcription as it now ſtands in Shakeſpear.
—This noble Deſcription is full of Imagery drawn from ſenſible Objects, as indeed are moſt of thoſe we meet with in this incomparable Author; (witneſs for Inſtance the Deſcription of Dover Cliff, of Hamlet's Madneſs, of Brutus's Diſorder, &c. &c.) It is conſequently of the moſt affecting Nature, and in a manner poſſeſſes the Hearer or the Reader with the ſame kind of Terrour which the Braveſt probably feel upon the Criſis of a deciſive Battle. And, by the by, of the ſame paſſionate and affecting (i. e. Dramatic Nature) are the Poetical Parts of our beſt Tragedies in general. Now I cannot conceive that the ſeve⯑ral Circumſtances of this Deſcription could receive additional Force from the Form of an Ode, not⯑withſtanding the acknowledg'd Power of Muſic; and much leſs that ſuch a Deſcription would ap⯑pear [305] to advantage in an Ode of Mr. Maſon's. In⯑ſtead of what we ſee, hear and feel in the ſtrik⯑ing Particulars of the before-mention'd Deſcrip⯑tion, Mr. Maſon would entertain and amaze us with an allegorical Machine of
or,
—It is certain whatever might be the Myſtic Beauties of ſuch an Ode as this, it would at beſt be a diſpaſſionate One, and ſo far infinitely leſs Theatrical, than the foregoing Deſcription of Shakeſpear. In truth the pure Poetry which Mr. Maſon tells us that great Poet had the Power of introducing naturally, and what is moſt ſtrange, of joining with pure Paſſion, has an Air utterly different from, or rather contrary to the Flights of Mr. Maſon throughout this Performance. Shakeſpear indeed very rarely gets out of the Reach of our Apprehenſions, even when his Sub⯑ject leads him directly into the Province of Ima⯑gination.—I refer the Reader to his Midſummer Night's Dream, his Macbeth, and his Tempeſt. Upon the whole of this Article, it may I think, be ſafely affirm'd that the modern Drama is by no means deſtitute of Opportunities of having recourſe to Poetical Embelliſhments and Pictu⯑reſque Deſcriptions of all Kinds; and it has re⯑courſe to them, if not ſo frequently and obviouſly [306] as the antient Drama by means of the Chorus had, at leaſt more conſiſtently with the Eſſential Character of Tragedy, whoſe direct Buſineſs it is to excite the Paſſions, even according to Ari⯑ſtotle's own Definition of it. For whether Images, Deſcriptions, &c. occaſionally and naturally in⯑terſpers'd with the Matter of the Dialogue it⯑ſelf be not more compatible with that Character, than ſeparate and detach'd Peices of Poetry, is a Queſtion that needs not, I conceive, be diſ⯑cuſs'd.—Now if theſe Conſiderations will lead us to Concluſions in favour of the Poetical Parts of modern Tragedy againſt thoſe of the old Chorus, they will, I am ſure, do this a fortiori againſt the pure Poetry of Mr. Maſon.
I cannot help obſerving in this Place, that our Author's Affectation of a Poetical Diction, which contributes ſo much to the rendering the Odes of his Chorus undramatical, diſcovers itſelf likewiſe in many Parts of the Dialogue itſelf; and often to ſuch a Degree, that Pomp, Figure, and Allegory ‘ſupply the Place of Simplicity, Nature, and Pathos.’ How allegorically does Athelwold expreſs the Paſſion of Joy, mixt with an Apprehenſion of imminent Danger?
[307] —As this Danger approaches ſtill nearer, the Leader of the Chorus tells the unhappy Pair (Athelwold and Elfrida) that
Upon the Earl's declaring his Reſolution to mur⯑der himſelf, he is caution'd againſt ſuch a deſpe⯑rate Proceeding, by very important (but I think ſcarce intelligible) Conſiderations.—
—With what Delicacy, and Pathetic Force is the Remorſe of this Hero expreſs'd in the fol⯑lowing Paſſage?
We may obſerve farther that the ſame Enthu⯑ſiaſtic kind of Spirit betrays our Author in many other Places of this Work (where the Thought is extremely beautiful) into a Stiffneſs and Formality of Language.—We will give the Reader a few Inſtances of this.—
In ſhort, to this Spirit we may perhaps aſcribe the Impropriety and Unſeaſonableneſs of ſome of Mr. Maſon's moſt elegant and affecting Images and Deſcriptions.—But I forbear to multiply Quo⯑tations.—Enough, I preſume, has been ſaid to ſhew that Mr. Maſon throughout this whole Work diſcovers much more of the Poet, than the Trage⯑dian: He diſcovers ſo much indeed of the former, that abating theſe, and a few other Blemiſhes and Defects, which I thought it but Juſtice to my Subject to endeavour to ſet in a true Light, Elfrida, as a Dramatic Poem, has many exquiſite Beauties; which however (as they muſt be obvious to judi⯑cious [310] Eyes) I forbear not for Want of Inclination but of Time to recite. Indeed as this Perform⯑ance is entitled a Dramatic Poem, and not a Tragedy, by the Author himſelf, I ſhould have made no Exceptions to it, if the Stile of the Let⯑ters prefixed to the Drama had been as modeſt as the Title Page.—But to return once more to the Chorus. Mr. Maſon ‘laments that with the Means of introducing Poetry naturally, is loſt alſo the Opportunity of conveying moral Re⯑flections with Grace and Propriety.’—He tells us afterwards, ‘that in thoſe Parts of the Drama where the Judgment of a mixt Audience is moſt liable to be miſled by what paſſes before it's View, the chief Actors are generally too much agitated by the furious Paſſions, or too much attached by the tender ones, to think cooly, and impreſs on the Spectators a moral Senti⯑ment properly.’—This is indeed aſſerting roundly, but however, I apprehend, without ſuf⯑ficient Foundation in Reaſon, or Experience.—I will make bold to aſſert too, that it is the Buſi⯑neſs of the Dramatic Poet (and indeed of every other) in a moral View to ſteal imperceptibly into the Heart of his Audience, or Reader; that Sen⯑timents occaſionally and naturally ſuggeſted by the Circumſtances of the Parties perſonally concerned, will have a more forcible Effect than a thouſand ſet Leſſons of Muſic and Morality from the Mouth of a third Perſon; and that the chief Actors are [311] not generally "too much agitated by the furious Paſſions, or attached by the tender ones, to think cooly (enough for the Purpoſe) and impreſs on the Spectators a moral Sentiment properly."
In the next Sentence we are told that ‘A Confidant or Servant has ſeldom Senſe enough to do it, never Dignity enough to be regarded.’—Now, by the way, a Servant or a Confidant may always (if the Poet pleaſe) be as ſenſible a Perſon as any in the Drama; and ſure the Dignity of either, at leaſt of the latter is equal to that of the Perſonages of the antient Chorus, which for the moſt Part conſiſted of a Company of Virgins, the Attendants and Countrywomen of the Hero of the Poem.—Mr. Maſon's own Chorus, with all it's Pomp and Solemnity, is compoſed of Lord Athel⯑wold's Maids.—But after all, do the modern Tragedians uſually convey moral Sentiments thro' the Mouths of Servants and Confidants, as theſe Expreſſions would lead us to imagine; or granting they do, and err in ſo doing, is the particular Er⯑ror of a few to be objected to the general Syſtem? Inſtead therefore of theſe (and of the Chorus too) the Moderns are ‘ſufficiently provided with Per⯑ſons not merely capable of ſeeing and hearing, but of arguing, adviſing, and reflecting; from whom a moral Sentiment never comes un⯑naturally, but ſuitably and gracefully.’ For ſuch are (or may be) all the Perſons in the Drama. "The Character of Pierre in Venice Preſerv'd [312] (Mr. Maſon juſtly obſerves in another Place) ‘when left entirely to the Judgment of the Au⯑dience, is perhaps one of the moſt improper for public View, that ever was produced on any Stage. It is almoſt impoſſible, but ſome Part of the Spectators ſhould go from the Repreſen⯑tation with very falſe and immoral Impreſſions. But had that Tragedy been written on the antient Plan; had Pierre's Character been drawn juſt as it is, and ſome few Alterations made in Jaffeir's, I know no two Characters more capa⯑ble of doing Service in a moral View, when juſtly animadverted upon by the Chorus. For bad Characters become on this Plan as harmleſs in the Hands of the Poet, as the Hiſtorian.’ This would indeed be, as I have elſewhere ob⯑ſerved, very juſt Reaſoning againſt any Man that ſhould undertake to vindicate Mr. Otway's Conduct in the Tragedy referred to; and to oppoſe the ſame to the antient Plan; but as this never was, or will be done by any Man in his Senſes, it is ſurely in⯑concluſive to argue againſt the Inconveniencies of the whole modern Dramatic Syſtem from the particular Error of a particular Poet.—The Truth is, per⯑haps this Gentleman has conceived ſtrong Prepoſ⯑ſeſſions in Favour of that Species of Poetry, which his Talent evidently leads him to; for if he had not himſelf a particular Taſte for an Ode, 'tis likely he would ſcarce contend for it as abſolutely eſſen⯑tial [313] to the Drama.—But whatever may have been his real Sentiments upon the Occaſion, I hope, I have given ſufficient Reaſons for differing from him.
Before I conclue I can't help taking Notice, that Mr. Maſon has drawn Mr. Dryden himſelf into his Intereſts in a very extraordinary Manner; and this I do the rather, as I have more than once re⯑ferred to that excellent Perſon's Authority. Mr. Maſon, among the inſuperable Difficulties in the Way to the deſired Reformation of the Engliſh Stage, intimates the preſent improper Form of the Theatres; and the additional Expence requiſite for the Purpoſes of the antient Syſtem renders the Matter, he thinks, impracticable. ‘This, he ſays, Mr. Dryden foreſaw long ago;’ and then quotes the following curious Paſſage from him. ‘A new Theatre, much more ample and much deeper, muſt be made for that Purpoſe; be⯑ſides the Coſt of ſometimes forty or fifty Habits: which is an Expence too large to be ſupplied by a Company of Actors. 'Tis true I ſhould not be ſorry to ſee a Chorus on a Theatre, more than as large and as deep again as our's, built and adorned at a King's Charges; and on that Condition, and another, which is, that my Hands were not bound behind me, as now they are, I ſhould not deſpair of making ſuch a Tragedy, as might be both inſtructive and delightful, according to the Manner of the Grecians.’
[314] Now does any common Reader apprehend from this Paſſage, that becauſe Mr. Dryden tells us, he ſhould not be ſorry to ſee a Chorus on a com⯑modious Theatre, &c. therefore he ardently wiſh'd to ſee one, and judg'd it abſolutely eſſential to the Drama; or becauſe he declares that in ſuch Caſe he ſhould not deſpair of making ſuch a Tragedy as might be inſtructive and delightful according to the Manner of the Grecians, therefore he long'd to try his Strength in this Field, and acknow⯑ledged the grand Secret prodeſſe & delectare was the Characteriſtic of the Greek Drama only? And yet ſuch methinks is Mr. Maſon's Conſtruc⯑tion of this Paſſage."—‘This Suffrage of Mr. Dryden, ſays he, is, however, very appoſite to to the preſent Point. But it ſerves alſo to vin⯑dicate my Deſign of imitating the Greek Drama. For if he, who was ſo prejudiced to the modern Stage, as to think Intrigue a capi⯑tal Beauty in it; if he, I ſay, owns that the grand Secret prodeſſe & delectare was the Cha⯑racteriſtic of the Greek Drama only, nothing I think can better juſtify my preſent Attempt than the Approbation he gives to it in this Paſſage.’—That is (to reduce this Suffrage to a ſmaller Compaſs) Mr. Dryden informs us, that if Things were properly circumſtanced he would at all Events have attempted a Tragedy upon the Greek Model, and with ſome Hopes of Succeſs; [315] therefore he plainly preferred the antient to the modern Syſtem.—Let the Merits of the Cauſe be tried by the Evidence of Mr. Dryden, and
I have nothing farther to add than that, if the Reader ſhould chance to wonder at the Freedom I have ſometimes taken with this truly ingenious Writer, I deſire it may be imputed to my natural Reſentment of that Air of Sufficiency and Superi⯑ority with which he introduces, I do not ſay his Performance, but his Syſtem.—‘Good Senſe (i. e. common Senſe) as well as Antiquity re⯑quired an Adherence to the Unities.’ This peremptory Declaration involves in a very ſcurvy Term almoſt every Dramatic Writer but our Au⯑thor, and a Frenchman or two, ſince the Days of Ariſtotle. But delicate Judgment it ſeems and a true Taſte for genuine Nature and antient Simplicity are the Allotments, and Privileges only of a happy Few.—In what Contempt does this Gentleman hold the univerſal Practice of the modern Stage, when he acquaints us, "he believes he could quickly make the whole tolerably fit for an Engliſh Audience by putting the Dialogue of the Cho⯑rus into the Mouth of an Emma or Matilda, who with ſome little Shew of ſiſterly Concernment, might be eaſily made to claim Kindred with Earl Athelwold; and by the Addition of an [316] unneceſſary Incident or two, which would coſt him no more than they are worth in contriving, and an unmeaning Perſonage or two, who would be as little Expence in creating." I confeſs I ſee no Sort of Foundation for this Inſult and Superio⯑rity in the Arguments, or rather Aſſertions of Mr. Maſon, for which Reaſon I have written my Thoughts upon this Occaſion; otherwiſe I have no more Pretenſion to write againſt him as an Adverſary, than Deſire to enter the Liſts with him as a Poet.
8.
LETTERS, &c.
LETTERS, &c.
[119]I Sit down, in compliance with your Requeſt, to give you my Sentiments upon the Subject ſtarted at our laſt Interview.—In conſequence of my Reſearches upon this Occaſion I have been almoſt led into a very whimſical Concluſion,—that the greateſt Genius is the Author a Man happens to have in his Hand. It ſeems but rea⯑ſonable to pin our Opinion of an Author upon that of his Editor, or Tranſlator; and yet we may do this, till we are in a manner at a loſs for a Criterion to judge good Writing by. Genius aſſumes as many Shapes as ever Proteus did; and all literary Merit conſiſts principally in Invention, in Judgment, in Fire, in Propriety, in Simplicity, in Elegance, in Accuracy, in Eaſe, in Wit, in Humour, in Fullneſs, in Brevity, &c. &c. ac⯑cording to the Spirit, and Complexion of the Writer before me. Mr. Pope declares, Homer was the greateſt Epic Poet in the World, and I [320] am quite of his Mind, till I take up Mr. Mey⯑rick's Tryphiodorus.—When I look into my Sta⯑tius, I begin to think Virgil was a very cold, and inſipid Writer; and Virgil's Acquaintance aſſure me that Statius was little better than a Mad⯑man.—In ſhort by Virtue of the Preface, prefix'd to him, Sophocles or Ovid, Terence or Martial, Milton or Butler, &c. &c. is the beſt Poet; Hero⯑dotus or Eutropius, Livy or Salluſt, Rapin or Cla⯑rendon is the beſt Hiſtorian; Ariſtotle or Newton, Deſcartes or Burnet, &c. &c. is the beſt Philo⯑ſopher; and Hammond or Hobbes, South, or To⯑land, Sherlock or Middleton is the beſt Divine.—
But to be ſerious.—You will wonder perhaps to be told, that what gave Riſe to theſe ludicrous Remarks of mine was nothing leſs than Mr. Pope's Commentary upon his univerſally, and juſtly admir'd Original, Homer; an Author, whom you will ſcarce think capable of being compli⯑mented, or aggrandiz'd to an undue, and ex⯑travagant Degree, eſpecially by ſo judicious an Editor.—Indeed theſe great Names are ſo truly venerable, that I muſt obviate the Alarm you may take, by aſſuring you that what I am going to ſay neither can, nor means to detract from the infinite Merit of the Grecian, or the Britiſh Homer; for the former, * ‘I believe upon the [321] whole that ſcarce any Mortal ever came near him for Wiſdom, Learning, and all good Qua⯑lities,’ for the latter, He has certainly done more Juſtice to his Author as an Expoſitor only, than all the Commentators, antient and modern, put together. After this Declaration you will give me leave to tell you, that Mr. Pope himſelf appears to me, notwithſtanding his very great Abilities, to have ſometimes miſapprehended the real Deſign of his Original, to have not unfre⯑quently (to uſe his own Words again) ‘attribu⯑ted to him what does not belong to him,’ and now and then to have imagin'd Proprieties, or cover'd Defects with a ſeeming View rather to the Honour of his Author at all Events, than to the preciſe Aſcertainment of Truth. All this, indeed, might be owing not to a blind Admira⯑tion, or to a Want of Diſcernment, but to a De⯑gree of laudable Partiality, or a too implicit Ad⯑herence to the Notions, and Interpretations of the Commentators his Predeceſſors.
But whatever may be allow'd to an Editor, or Tranſlator, a Stander-by will be more im⯑partial, and is, as ſuch, more likely to think juſtly of an Author. You who turn to your Homer merely with an Intent to be delighted with him, and conſider Mr. Pope as a Perſon very able and willing to illuſtrate his great Beau⯑ties, and Excellencies, will be apt to ſce no [322] Grounds for the above Allegations, but in an Affectation of Singularity, or in Caprice; eſpe⯑cially as Mr. Pope makes no Scruple occaſionally to point out the Blemiſhes of his Author, and ſeems by many Remarks to ſhew himſelf thoroughly diveſted of all unreaſonable Prepoſ⯑ſeſſions. ‘* It is cuſtomary (ſays he) with thoſe who tranſlate or comment on an Author, to uſe him as they do their Miſtreſs; they can ſee no Faults, or convert his very Faults into Beauties; but I cannot be ſo partial to Homer, &c. &c.’ In another Place after having enume⯑rated what ſeem'd to him to be ‘Faults of any conſideration,’ he tells us, † ‘he hopes after ſo free a Confeſſion no reaſonable Modern will think him touch'd with the [...] of Madam Dacier and others. I am ſenſible, continues he, of the Extremes which Mankind run into, in extolling and depreciating Authors: We are not more violent and unreaſonable in attacking thoſe who are not yet eſtabliſh'd into Fame, than in defending thoſe who are, even in every minute Trifle.’—There is as much Modeſty as there is Truth in this ingenuous Declaration; and there is great Reaſon to ſuppoſe Mr. Pope in general never ſpeaks of Homer in higher Terms than he really believ'd he deſerves. [323] However, whether I have been actuated by a Spirit of Vanity, or of Humour, rather than juſt Criticiſm, you will be able to judge when you have read the following Sheets, in which I pro⯑poſe to try Homer by himſelf, (as every Writer ſhould by his own Key) and by the Suffrages and Evidence of his own Advocates, and Witneſſes. For which Purpoſe, and for ſomething of Method's ſake, the firſt Subject of our Inquiry ſhall be the Machinery of the Iliad, and the next, the general Oeconomy of this great Poet, and his particular Conduct in Reſpect of Characters, Incidents, and other Circumſtances. And, I perſuade myſelf, the Reſult of this Inquiry will be your agreeing with me that Homer, with the moſt fruitful In⯑vention, extenſive Knowledge, and no ſmall Judg⯑ment, has really much leſs Art, and Deſign in this Work, than he is ſuppoſed to have had; at leaſt for what appears to the contrary from the Obſervations of his Commentators.
LETTER II.
THE Machinery, you know, is that Part which the Gods bear in an Epic Poem. That of Homer is conducted with extraordinary Circumſtances of Solemnity, and Magnificence. But the great Queſtion is, whether we are in ge⯑neral to take the Simple and literal Senſe of [324] the Author with regard to the Appearance, and Actions of theſe ſuperiour Beings; or whether we are to ſuppoſe a ſecret, and allegorical Mean⯑ing to be veil'd under all this Apparatus; or, in other Words, whether we can with any Degree of Certainty extract a Syſtem of Morality, or Theology from it. This has been attempted to be done by Mr. Pope, and all others who have undertaken to explain, illuſtrate, or defend the Writings of this inimitable Poet; and it muſt be own'd too that this has been done in many Places in a very plauſible Manner. However I muſt be of Opinion, upon reviewing the Iliad, and com⯑paring it with itſelf, that theſe Gentlemen have puſh'd this Matter too far, and by ſtrain'd Expli⯑cations, and Refinements, found out Myſteries which were never intended; that, generally ſpeak⯑ing, we ſhall do more Juſtice, and even Ho⯑nour to Homer by ſuppoſing * ‘he follow'd Fame, and common Opinion in his Account of the Gods, though no way agreeable to Truth.’ Upon this Suppoſition at leaſt, He will, I think appear much more uniform, and reconcileable with himſelf. I do not deny indeed that the Iliad abounds with noble, and rational Sentiments, and ſuch as are conformable to true Theology; particularly that the Neceſſity of Divine Aſſiſtance [325] and Interpoſition for all Human Succeſſes is a Moral ſtrongly inculcated throughout the Poem. But whatever Homer's religious Notions, as a Man, might be, or, as Mr. Pope expreſſes it, ‘whatever he might think of his Gods, he took them as he found them; he brought them into Action according to the Notions which were then entertain'd, and in ſome Stories as they were then believ'd.’ If you conſider his Jupi⯑ter as a Fabulous or Poetical Character, there is leſs in it to ſhock you; but if you believe, He meant to exhibit to his Reader under this Character, "the One, ſupreme, omnipotent God" You muſt ſoon have a very mean Opinion not only of his Philoſophy, but even of his Senſe. 'Tis true, ‘He ſometimes introduces Jupiter with a Majeſty, and Superiority worthy the great Ruler of the Univerſe,’ particularly in the Beginning of the 8th Book; but he is in general repreſented as much ſubject to Weakneſs, In⯑firmity, and Paſſion as the inferiour Deities. In⯑deed, if any Divine Attribute be plainly, and conſiſtently applied to Jupiter, it is Power; yet even this ſeems to be applied rather from the Au⯑thority of Fabulous Tradition, than by the religious Theory of the Poet himſelf. For the Story of the Rebellion of the Gods, and their Defeat by Jupi⯑ter, which Homer refers to, cannot be underſtood to be his own Invention. Mr. Pope acknowleges [326] the "* Notions and Deſcriptions of his Author" in Reſpect of the Deity, ‘to be in many Paſſages unworthy of the Divinity:’ † ‘He is not even exempted from our common Appetites, and Frailties; He is made to eat, drink, and ſleep.’ It is pleaſant enough to obſerve how careful the Commentators have been, notwith⯑ſtanding ſuch Acknowledgements, to maintain the ſuppos'd Superiority of Jupiter, and what ſhifts they have recourſe to to ſave his Honour upon all Occaſions. ‘‡ Euſtathius (Mr. Pope tell sus) makes a diſtinction between [...] and [...], the Words which are us'd at the End of the firſt Book, and the Beginning of the ſecond with regard to Jupiter's ſleeping. He ſays [...] only means lying down in a Diſpoſition to ſleep.’ Now granting this Interpretation ‘to ſalve the Contradiction that elſe would follow in the next Book, where it is ſaid Jupiter did not ſleep,’ and to prove by-the-by that Homer himſelf did not nod in this Paſſage; yet ſurely it will afford but a ſlender Argument for the extraordinary Vigilancy of Jupiter in general beyond that of the other Gods; eſpecially as Homer acquaints us in the preceding Lines, that he went to the Bed where [327] he had us'd to take his Repoſe. *It is worth ob⯑ſerving to you that ſome Criticks in Ariſtotle's Time objected to the Paſſage in the ſecond Book, and ‘†pretended it was ridiculous to deſcribe all the Gods ſleeping beſides Jupiter:’ To which, it ſeems, Ariſtotle anſwers, ‘that no⯑thing is more uſual or allowable than that Fi⯑gure which puts all for the greater part.’ A plain Proof, that neither Ariſtotle, nor the above⯑mention'd Critics of thoſe Times, ſuppos'd any extraordinary Degree of Vigilancy could have been with any Propriety aſcrib'd by the Poet to Jupiter.—Perhaps you will be of Opinion too, that there is a little too much Refinement in ano⯑ther Place in the fifth Book, where Mr. Pope ſays, ‡ ‘we may obſerve the Decorum and Decency his Author conſtantly preſerves’ in making Jupiter only Smile upon certain Occaſions, while the other Gods laugh out.
I leave it to you to judge what Sort of a Salvo this muſt be, allowing any Foundation for the Diſtinction itſelf; as indeed I do not recollect there is. There ſeems at leaſt to be univerſal Jollity in Heaven in one very remarkable Paſſage, without any reſerve for the Gravity of this Deity; I mean in the firſt Book, where Vulcan ‘‖ deſigns [328] to move laughter by taking upon him the Office of Hebe and Ganymede, with his aukward limp⯑ing Carriage.’
Thus you ſee the Jupiter of Homer, with all his Pomp and Preeminence, is hardly above a Level with the ſubordinate Deities in point of corporal Weakneſs and Infirmity; nor will you find him to rank much higher if you take a View of his Conduct, and Actions in general throughout the Poem. You will obſerve him upon numberleſs Occaſions under the Influence of Paſſions utterly unſuitable to the Purity, as well as Dignity of the Supreme Being. The Fiction of his ‘being deceiv'd and laid aſleep,’ and of his amorous correſpondence with Juno, has, as Mr. Pope con⯑feſſes, as great ‘an Air of Impiety, and Ab⯑ſurdity’ as any Fable in all Antiquity. ‘I *muſt needs, upon the whole, (ſays that in⯑genious Remarker) as far as I can judge, give up the Morality of this Fable; but what Colour of Excuſe for it Homer might have from antient Tradition, or what myſtical, or allegorical Senſe might atone for the appearing Impiety, is hard to be aſcertain'd at this diſtant Period of Time.’ Here is a Condemnation, and a [329] Palliation of a Fault in one Breath. Indeed Mr. Pope, thro' his unabated Zeal for the Honour of his Original, is *willing afterwards to ſuppoſe the "preſent Paſſage to be grounded on Religion," and to be nothing more than the ‘Repreſentation of a religious Solemnity; or elſe to be purely allegorical, and as ſuch implying only’ the Congreſs of Jupiter, and Juno, the Mingling of the Aether and the Air (which are generally ſaid to be ſignified by theſe two Deities.) But I be⯑lieve, if you conſult the Place, you will think the firſt Expedient a forc'd one, and the ſecond (allowing the Phyſical Signification of theſe two Deities) inſufficient for the intended Vindication. For what Connection is there in the Mingling of the Aether and the Air with the Matter in Hand? or how does it in the leaſt effect the Circumſtances of the Battle between the Greeks and the Trojans. To ſay nothing of Venus, who certainly is no Phyſical Deity, and yet bears a part in this Tranſ⯑action.—The literal, and obvious Senſe of Homer with all its Groſſneſs ſeems to be the only con⯑ſiſtent one which this Paſſage can fairly be made to carry.
It is worth while to take Notice of the Shifts the Commentators have recourſe to, when they are preſt with Difficulties of this Nature. Agree⯑ably to the Circumſtances of the Extremity, the [330] Allegories of Homer are Moral, and Phyſical; ‘His *Heaven is no more than an ideal World of abſtracted Beings, and ſo every Motion which riſes in the Mind of Man is attributed to the Quality to which it belongs, with the Name of the Deity who is ſuppoſed to pre⯑ſide over that Quality ſuperadded to it;’ ‘the †Deities ſometimes mean no more than Beings that preſided over the Paſſions and Faculties of the Mind, and in conſequence of all this Jupiter is either the Aether, or the Father of Gods and Men, Juno is the Goddeſs of Honour or the Air, and ‘Minerva the Goddeſs not only of Wiſdom, but of Craft; that is, both of true and falſe Wiſdom,’ &c. &c. as Occaſions and Exigencies require.—Now 'tis certain by theſe Means any Difficulty may be ſolved, and any Paſſage in this Author pretty eaſily cleared; but all this while the Queſtion is, whether any Syſtem can be aſcertained. Nay in Places where the Meaning of the Author is irreconcileable with allegorical Conſtruction, it is ſuppoſed to ‡be "darkened by the Remoteneſs of our Time." A hidden and myſterious Senſe there plainly is, or certainly muſt be; and we muſt at all Events, and tho' apparent Abſurdities will be ſaved by it, reject a literal Interpertation of Homer where [331] the Gods are concerned. Mr. Pope himſelf owns that ſometimes Homer's *Machine's play a little too Groſſly, and that the Fable vio⯑lently oppreſſes the Moral, which it may be loſt Labour to ſearch for in every minute Cir⯑cumſtance, if indeed it was intended to be there.’ In Truth, I am apt to think we ſhould read this Poet with more Pleaſure, and equal Profit, if we perplexed ourſelves leſs to find out Myſteries in him; and by the way, it is ſcarce worth our Pains to inveſtigate hidden Meanings, when the plain and literal Moral of the Poem is as obvious upon a thouſand Occaſions as it is ad⯑mirable and excellent. If you conſider the Ma⯑chinery of Homer in a Poetical, rather than a Theo⯑logical, or Philoſophical Light, and ſuppoſe his Gods to be real Characters acting under the In⯑fluence of Human Paſſions, as antient Fables re⯑preſented them, and taking their Meaſures from Motives of perſonal Affection, Reſentment, &c. &c. I believe you will have a ſurer Inlet into the Meaning of this famous Author, and be able to examine him by Rules not liable to Difficulties, which are only to be removed by forced, and un⯑natural Solutions.—But as there is a Novelty in this Opinion, You will expect I ſhould ſtrengthen and confirm it by more Reaſons, and Obſervations.
LETTER III.
[332]‘THE *famous Cenſure of Tully, and Lon⯑ginus (mentioned by Mr. Pope) that Homer makes God's of his Heroes, and Mortals of his Gods,’ will appear to be groundleſs, if you regulate your Ideas of this Author by the Notions I have conceived of him. For pure Poetical Fictions, whether invented or adopted by Homer, come not properly under the Cog⯑niſance of a Philoſophical Inquiry. Accordingly we ſhall not only have a ready Excuſe for this great Poet when he introduces his Deities ‘feaſt⯑ing, fighting, wounded by Men, and ſhedding a Sort of Blood;’ but alſo when they are repreſen⯑ted as committing Actions unworthy of themſelves, and of the reſpective Characters they are ſuppoſed by the common Opinion of Commentators to ſuſ⯑tain. Mr. Pope allows that ‘if †the Trojans had no Right to break the Treaty,’ made be⯑tween them and the Grecians upon the Duel of Paris and Menelaus, ‘the Machine where Juno is made to propoſe Perjury, Jupiter to allow it, and Minerva to be commiſſioned to haſten the Execution of it, would be one of the hardeſt to be reconciled to Reaſon in the whole Poem.’ Whether therefore the Trojans had a Right to [333] break the Treaty is a Queſtion, it will be very Material, and, I think, eaſy to determine. Now that "the *Conditions of the Treaty were valid" notwithſtanding the ſnatching away of Paris by Venus in a Cloud, "that is to ſay, that" the Con⯑troverſy was to be decided (either) by the Victory, or by the Death of one of the Combatants, is, I apprehend, apparent from many Conſiderations. It is certain, ‘in the firſt propoſal of the Challenge Paris mentions only the Victory, And who his Rival ſhall in Arms Subdue;’ nor does Hector, who carries it, ſay any more.
However (continues the Note) Menelaus un⯑derſtands it of the Death by what he replies:
And in the ſolemn Oath too Agamemnon ſpecifies the latter, "If by Paris ſlain"—and ‘If by my Brother's Arms the TROJAN bleed.’ Priam alſo underſtands it of both, ſaying, at his leaving the Field,
Paris himſelf confeſſes he has loſt the Victory in his Speech to Helen, which he would hardly have done had the whole depended upon that alone; and laſtly Menelaus (after the Conqueſt is clearly [334] his by the Flight of Paris) is ſtill ſearching round the Field to kill him, as if all were of no Effect without the Death of his Adverſary.—It appears from hence (ſays Mr. Pope) ‘that the Trojans had no ill pretence to break the Treaty, ſo that Homer ought not to have been directly accuſed of making Jupiter the Author of Perjury in what follows, which is one of the chief of Plato's Ob⯑jections againſt him.’
But was it not extremely natural for Menelaus, Agamemnon, and Priam to mention the Death of one of the Combatants as the Deciſion of the Controverſy, tho' the Terms at the Challenge ſpecified Victory only, in as much as the Death of one ſeem'd to be the unavoidable Conſequence of the Duel, and the Deliverance of Paris by Venus was a Circumſtance that could not poſſibly be foreſeen? For Paris, he could not be ſo ab⯑ſurd as to deny the Loſs of the Victory, whatever Shifts he might be drove to evade the Articles of the Combat—indeed he ſeems to hint at the Expedient of a ſecond Engagement.—
And laſtly, for Menelaus, he might very naturally "ſearch round the Field to kill his Adverſary" not for the effectual Determination of the Con⯑troverſy, but for the Gratification of his perſonal Reſentment.
[335] Be this as it will; whatever private Perſons might think of this Affair, it is plain the Greeks looked upon the War as ended by this great Event, and accordingly Agamemnon calls upon the Trojans to fulfill the Conditions of the Treaty.
But, in a Word, to put the Matter out of all Doubt, the very Terms at the Commiſſion given to Minerva, ſuppoſe the Conditions of the Treaty to be binding upon the Trojans.
Theſe two laſt Circumſtances Mr. Pope, for Reaſons obvious enough, takes not the leaſt Notice of: Indeed he found himſelf ſo preſt by the Dif⯑ficulties with which this whole Tranſaction is ſur⯑rounded, that he is forced to have Recourſe to one of the Expedients above-mentioned, viz. that of ſuppoſing, ‘Homer's Heaven to be ſometimes no more than an ideal World of abſtracted Be⯑ings, &c. &c. agreeably to this Notion he re⯑ſolves the Buſineſs into this eaſy Allegory, as [336] he is pleaſed to call it.’ * Pandarus (who broke the Truce by ſhooting an Arrow at Mene⯑laus) thinks it Prudence to gain Honour and Wealth at the Hands of the Trojans by deſtroy⯑ing Menelaus. This Sentiment is alſo incited by a Notion of Glory, of which Juno is repreſented as Goddeſs. Jupiter, who is ſuppoſed to know the Thoughts of Men, permits the Action which he is not Author of, &c. &c."
But how is all this to be reconciled with the general Rules of Interpretation, or with what Mr. Pope †tells us in the very next Note, ‘The Goddeſs went not to the Trojans, becauſe they hated Paris, and would rather have given him up, ‡than have done an ill Action for him: She therefore looks among the Allies, and finds Pandarus, who was of a Nation noted for Perfidiouſneſs, and had a Soul avaricious enough to be capable of engaging in this Treachery for the Hopes of a Reward from Paris.’ From what Principles of Prudence then or of Honour did Pandarus act? or, laſtly, how can Jupiter be ſaid barely to permit, what he ex⯑preſſly commands? It is out of the Power of Al⯑legory and Refinement to ſalve the Characters of theſe Deities upon the preſent Occaſion.—But according to the Notion I have formed of Homer's [337] Deities, there will be nothing puzzling in all this Affair.—I can ſuppoſe Juno and Minerva to be actuated by a Deſire of perſonal Vengeance on the quondam Judgment of Paris; and indeed I am warranted in this Suppoſition almoſt by the pre⯑ſent Behaviour of theſe Goddeſſes, but clearly I preſume, by a Paſſage in the 24th Book of the Iliad, where the Poet informs us that theſe very Deities (with Neptune) oppoſed the Propoſal of all the reſt, to diſpatch Mercury to ſteal away the Body of Hector, purely from the implacable Hatred they bore to Troy ever ſince that fatal Determination.
Mr. Pope maintains the Authenticity of this Paſſage, which it ſeems ſome of the *Antients had diſputed, who ‘judged it as an Indecency that the Goddeſs of Wiſdom and Achilles ſhould be equally inexorable.’ They thought farther that, ‘had Homer been acquainted with the Judgment of Paris, he would undoubtedly have mentioned it before this time in his Poem, &c." It may be anſwered, (replies Mr. Pope) that the [338] Silence of Homer in the foregoing Part of the Poem, as to the Judgment of Paris, is no Argument that he was ignorant of that Story: Perhaps he might think it moſt proper to un⯑fold the Cauſe of the Deſtruction of Troy in the Concluſion of the Ilias; that the Reader ſee⯑ing the Wrong done, and the Puniſhment of that Wrong immediately following, might ac⯑knowledge the Juſtice of it.’ According to this Obſervation, which confirms what I have been ſaying, we muſt look beyond the Rape of Helen, for the original Cauſe of the Deſtruction of Troy, and for the Wrong done which ſo much exaſperated theſe Goddeſſes. ‘The ſame Rea⯑ſon (proceeds the Note) will be an Anſwer to the Objection relating to the Anger of Pallas: Wiſdom cannot be ſatisfied without Juſtice, and conſequently Pallas, ought not to ceaſe from Reſentment, till Troy, has ſuffered the Deſerts of her Crimes.’—Now whether that Crime of Paris could fairly be conſidered as the Crime of Troy, and whether therefore Wiſdom could with Juſtice purſue it to the Deſtruction of a whole People, a Novice in Caſuiſtry may determine.—If we ſuppoſe, by the by, that the Juno of Virgil was copied from this Original, as there is, I think, no Doubt but ſhe was, we find that Poet in plain Terms aſcribing the Ill⯑will of this Goddeſs towards the Trojans to be the Affront put upon her by Paris.
—You will begin probably to think, the Com⯑mentators have affected too much to diſcover Poetical Secrets in an Author whoſe Deſign I take to have been much more ſimple than it is generally imagined to be.—For your farther Sa⯑tisfaction, you ſhall hear from me again upon this Subject.
LETTER IV.
THE Commentators tell us it is with great Art and Judgment that Homer has en⯑gaged his ſeveral Deities either on the Side of Greece, or on that of Troy. I cannot give you a beter Account of their Sentiments upon this Head, than what you have in Mr. Pope's Note, tran⯑ſcribed from Euſtathius, ‘* This Diviſion of the Gods, is not made at Random, but founded on very ſolid Reaſons, drawn from the Na⯑ture of theſe two Nations. He places on the Side of the Greeks all the Gods who preſide over Arts, and Sciences, to ſignify how much in that reſpect the Greeks excelled all other Na⯑tions. Juno, Pallas, Neptune, Mercury, and Vulcan are for the Greeks; Juno, not only as the Goddeſs who preſides over Marriage, and [340] who is concerned to revenge an Jnjury done to the Nuptial Bed, but likewiſe as the Goddeſs who repreſents Monarchical Government, which was better eſtabliſhed in Greece than any where elſe; Pallas, becauſe being the Goddeſs of War and Wiſdom, ſhe ought to aſſiſt thoſe who are wronged; beſides the Greeks underſtood the Art of War better than the Barbarians; Nep⯑tune, becauſe he was an Enemy to the Trojans upon Account of Laomedon's perfidiouſneſs, and becauſe moſt of the Greeks being come from Iſlands, or Peninſulas, they were in ſome Sort his Subjects; Mercury, becauſe he is a God who preſides over Stratagems of War, and be⯑cauſe Troy was taken by that of the Wooden Horſe; and laſtly, Vulcan, as the declared Ene⯑my of Mars and of all Adulterers, and as the Father of Arts.—The Reaſons why Mars, and Venus engage for the Trojans are very obvious; the Point in Hand was to favour Raviſhers, and Debauchees. But the ſame Reaſon, you will ſay, does not ſerve for Apollo, Diana, and La⯑tona. It is urg'd that Apollo is for the Trojans, becauſe of the Darts, and Arrows which were the principal Strength of the Barbarians; and Diana becauſe ſhe preſided over Dancing, and thoſe Barbarians were great Dancers; and La⯑tona, as influenc'd by her Children. Xanthus be⯑ing a Trojan River is intereſted for his Country.’
[341] Now whether theſe are not rather ingenious than ſolid Reaſons is, in my Mind, ſcarce a Queſtion.—For all that is here aſſerted is far from being true. ‘All the Gods who preſide over Arts and Sciences are not on the Side of the Greeks:’ Apollo, who is ſurely one of the moſt conſiderable of them being the perpetual Patron of Troy; ſo that Ho⯑mer never meant by this Adjuſtment to ‘ſignify how much in this reſpect the Greeks excelled all other Nations. Juno, and Pallas, as plau⯑ſible as the Reaſons here alledged for their ſiding with the Grecians may ſeem to be, act in this Affair, by their own *Confeſſions, as we have ſeen, from very different Motives; nor will it follow, by the Way, that becauſe the latter of theſe Goddeſſes aſſiſted the Greeks, therefore Homer would intimate that the Greeks underſtood the Art of War better than the Bar⯑barians:’ for as Mr. Pope obſerves upon Homer's introducing Apollo on the Side of the Trojans in the fourth Book, ‘Mars †(the Friend of Troy) which ſignifies Courage without Conduct, pro⯑ving too weak to reſiſt Minerva, or Courage with Conduct, the Poet brings in Wiſdom to aſſiſt Mars, under the appearance of Apollo:’ and conſequently as much may be inferred to the Advantage of the Trojans from the conſtant Inter⯑poſition [342] of this God in their Behalf, as is in the Paſſage before us to that of the Greeks, from the Conſideration of the Aid of Minerva.—But far⯑ther, Neptune it ſeems, is for the Greeks, ‘be⯑cauſe he was an Enemy to the Trojans, upon Account of Laomedon's Perfidiouſneſs, and be⯑cauſe moſt of the Greeks being come from Iſlands or Peninſulas, they were in ſome Sort his Subjects.’ Now Laomedons's *Perfidiouſ⯑neſs conſiſted in the Refuſal of the Wages due to this God on Account of the Building of the Walls of Troy, and in other ill-uſage, and ſo we are to look upon Neptune's eſpouſing the Grecian Cauſe, as the Effect of his Reſentment of thoſe perſonal Indignities; and in this Light he is only acting in conformity to the Idea I have framed of Ho⯑mer's Gods in general: But why the Greeks can with more Propriety be called Neptune's Subjects becauſe they came from Iſlands or Peninſulas, than the Trojans themſelves, who inhabited a Sea-port Town, (for which very reaſon Mr. Pope conjec⯑tures, Homer aſcribes the Building of the Wall to Neptune only) I confeſs I am at a loſs to diſcover.—Again, Mercury, we are informed is a Partiſan of the Grecians ‘becauſe he is a God who pre⯑ſides over Stratagems of War, and becauſe Troy was taken by that of the Wooden Horſe;’— [343] Now the ingenuity of the Stratagem of the wooden Horſe, if we believe Virgil, we muſt aſcribe not to Mercury, but to Pallas.
However, to let this Deity have the Credit of it; I would only aſk whether, ſuppoſing he had been introduced by Homer on the Part of Troy, the Sagacity of Euſtathius would not have aſſigned as ſpecious a Reaſon for it as the preſent. I can conceive it to be this. Mercury is for the Tro⯑jans becauſe he preſides over Thieves and Robbers, and is the Favourer of all clandeſtine Enter⯑prizes, ſuch as was the Rape of Helen by Paris.—But laſtly, Vulcan aſſiſts the Greeks ‘as the declared Enemy of Mars and of all Adulterers, and as the Father of Arts.’ True—his per⯑ſonal Enmity to Mars, and conſequentially to all Adulterers, it is granted naturally engaged him on the Grecian Side;—but as the Father of the Mechanical Arts methinks, he ſhould have fought under Apollo the Father of the liberal ones.
On the other Hand, ‘the Reaſons, ſays Eu⯑ſtathius, why Mars and Venus engage for the Trojans are very obvious; the Point in Hand was to favour Raviſhers and Debauchees, ra⯑ther a Raviſher, &c.’ If all the above-aſſigned Reaſons had been as obvious as theſe, it had in⯑deed [344] been ſcarce worth while to have entered into a Diſcuſſion of this Matter; but it would be ex⯑traordinary if there were no Circumſtances to colour the Hypotheſis of the Commentators.—Opi⯑nions, all this while, are not to be grounded on a few Circumſtances that are contraſted by many others.—The Reaſons given for the Aſſiſtance of the other Deities to Troy, which indeed are de⯑livered with an Air of Diffidence, are moſt of them far-fetched. ‘It is urged that Apollo is for the Trojans, becauſe of the Darts and Arrows which were the principal Strength of the Bar⯑barians;’ ſuppoſing, but by the way not ad⯑mitting, the Truth of which Aſſertion itſelf, might not Apollo, who is Deſtiny according to the com⯑mon Notion, have been repreſented with much more Significancy as oppoſing Troy, whoſe De⯑ſtruction was determined by Fate? One Reaſon *given by Dacier in the next Book, why Apollo declines fighting with Neptune is, becauſe Apollo ‘being the ſame with Deſtiny, and the Ruin of the Trojans being concluded upon and decided, that God can no longer defer it.’ According to this, Apollo by taking the Part of Troy ſeems to have been Fighting againſt himſelf.—But Diana attach'd herſelf to the Trojan Intereſts, we are let to know, ‘becauſe ſhe preſided over [345] Dancing, and thoſe Barbarians were great Dancers;’ it may be ſo; and yet I am apt to think the Goddeſs of Chaſtity acts a little out of Character here, and by aiding and abetting theſe Dancers, Raviſhers, and Debauchees, is in danger to be taken tripping.
As for Latona, if ſhe was ‘influenced by her Children’ ſhe was a very Dutiful Mother; and Xanthus being a Trojan River" is very Natu⯑rally, and without any Deſign or Artifice of the Poet, "intereſted for his Country."
Do you not begin to believe upon this Review of the Matter, which I hope you will think a fair and impartial one, that ‘this Diviſion of the Gods in Homer, was made much more at ran⯑dom’ than Euſtathius would have perſuaded you it was; and that the Gods upon Jupiter's Permiſſion to them to aſſiſt either Party in the Beginning of this Book, gratified their perſonal Inclinations, and Affections;—Nay Jupiter him⯑ſelf ſuppoſes they had done, and would do this.
And farther the Speeches which the Poet puts in the Mouths of his Gods when they come to en⯑gage, are full of perſonal Invectives, and Re⯑proaches, and contain little or nothing that coun⯑tenances [346] an Allegorical Conſtruction. Mars puts Minerva in Mind of the Wound Diomed had given him thro' her Inſtigation.
Minerva, whom we may obſerve, Homer repre⯑ſents in this Engagement as ſuperiour to Mars in point of bodily Strength, not by Virtue of any Art or Stratagem, inſults her vanquiſhed Anta⯑goniſt in the Language of a Conquerour, inſtead of reproving his Raſhneſs in a Style that would have better become the Goddeſs of Wiſdom:
The ſame Goddeſs next attacks Venus, and eaſily overcomes her, which Circumſtance may, I ap⯑prehend, be beſt literally underſtood; for in an Allegorical Senſe, Venus might have been at leaſt a Match for Minerva, as Love often takes Poſſeſ⯑ſion of the braveſt Heart, and is irreſiſtible by the wiſeſt Counſels.—And if Venus had been vic⯑torious here, I make no Doubt but that Senſe would have been put upon this Paſſage.
[347] Neptune addreſſes himſelf to Apollo in a long Speech, in which he recapitulates the injurious Treatment they had both met with from Laome⯑don, and wonders at that God's Forgetfulneſs, and Forgiveneſs of the ſame: But he drops not a ſingle Syllable that intimates himſelf to be the Repreſen⯑tative of Humidity, or Apollo of Dryneſs upon this Occaſion.
Juno gives Diana moſt abuſive Language, and "Boxes her ſoundly" into the Bargain, as Mr. Pope expreſſes it;—but I ſee no Clue to a Myſtery in all this Buſineſs, nor any Thing ſuitable to the Emblematical Characters of either Goddeſs.
Laſtly, upon Mercury's declining to fight with Latona, Mr. Pope borrows this Remark from Eu⯑ſtathius; that, ‘* It is impoſſible that Mercury ſhould encounter Latona; ſuch a Fiction would be unnatural, he being a Planet and ſhe re⯑preſenting the Night; for the Planets owe all their Luſtre to the Shades of the Night, and then only become viſible to the World.’—This Commentator in another Place †exclaims with Admiration; ‘With what Art does the Poet engage the Gods in this Conflict!’ But ſure if there be Truth in the laſt cited Obſer⯑vation, there was little Art in making Latona, and Mercury take different Sides.—In ſhort as ex⯑actly [348] * as ſome Circumſtances may tally in the the Diſpoſition of this Engagement, I am apt to think, upon the whole, it is rather to be attribu⯑ted to Chance, than Deſign, and that the Ex⯑poſitors in general, either thro' Zeal for the Ho⯑nour of Homer, or in Oſtentation of their own Sagacity, have gone greater Lengths in their Al⯑legorical Hypotheſis, than they could juſtify from the plain Scheme of their Author. But I will take Occaſion once more to reſume this Argument.
LETTER V.
IT bears hard, I preſume, upon the Notion of an allegorical Meaning's being couched under the Appearances and Actions of Homer's Deities, that we are ſo often at a Loſs for any Reaſon to be al⯑ledg'd for them, or cannot give one with Con⯑ſiſtency, and Propriety. If this did not abun⯑dantly appear to be the Caſe from what has been laid before you, we might proceed to aſk, how it comes to paſs that the Interpoſition of Juno in the †16th Book prevents Jupiter's ſeeming Deſign to ſave Sarpedon? Why does ſhe interpoſe at all, or why is this the Effect of it? How comes this Goddeſs to interfere in the preſent Paſſage, and Minerva in the ‡22d Book, when Jupiter diſ⯑covers the ſame Inclination to deliver Hector?— [349] If Euſtathius rightly obſerves that ‘the Conduct of Homer is remarkably juſt and rational,’ in the fifth Book of the † Iliad, where he tells us Diomed notwithſtanding his intrepid Character retired from Apollo, becauſe ‘it was impoſſible for him to vanquiſh Apollo, in whatſoever Ca⯑pacity he is conſidered, either as the Sun, or as Deſtiny; how is it that the ſame Com⯑mentator commends in another Place a Con⯑duct, which is the very Reverſe of this? How *obſervable, ſays he, or rather Mr. Pope in his Name, is Homer's Art of illuſtrating the Valour, and Glory of his Heroes? Menelaus, who ſees Hector and all the Trojans ruſhing upon him, would not retire if Apollo did not ſupport them; and though Apollo does ſupport them, he would oppoſe even Apollo, were Ajax but near him.’ According to this Remark (if it is reconcileable with the former) Menelaus behaves with more Intrepidity or rather Raſhneſs than Diomed himſelf; and yet neither are the Characteriſtics of that Hero, of whom we ſhall have ſomething more to ſay by and by. In the ſeventh Book, Apollo, we are informed, ‘†comes very opportunely to ſave his favourite Hector’ who is overpowered by Ajax. ‘Euſtathius ſays, that Apollo is the very ſame with Deſtiny; ſo that when Homer ſays [350] Apollo ſaved him, he means no more than that it was not his Fate yet to die.’ Now methinks, if this Obſervation is juſtly made, this Deity ſhould appear to the Relief of every Hero in the like Extremity: And yet it is Venus who ſaves Paris in the third Book, and Aeneas in the fifth; as Neptune does the latter this ſame good Office in the twentieth.
It belongs to the Advocates of the common No⯑tion to ſolve all theſe Difficulties, and many more that might be added to them.—In the mean Time I would have you turn your Eyes to a Paſ⯑ſage or two, where the Allegory is ſuppoſed to be ſelf-evident, and tell me whether the Matter be ſo undeniably clear as the Illuſtrations of the Commentators pretend to make it. The Deſcent of Minerva in the firſt Book to prevent Achilles' attempting the Life of Agamemnon is deſcanted upon at large as a Paſſage of this Nature. ‘The * Allegory here (ſays Mr. Pope) may be al⯑lowed by every Reader to be unforced: The Prudence of Achilles checks him in the raſheſt Moment of his Anger, it works upon him un⯑ſeen to others, but does not entirely prevail upon him to deſiſt till he remembers his own Importance, and depends upon it, that there will be a Neceſſity of their courting him at any Expence into their Alliance again. Having [351] perſuaded himſelf by ſuch Reflections, he for⯑bears to attack his General, but thinking that he ſacrifices enough to Prudence by this For⯑bearance, lets the Thought of it vaniſh from him; and no ſooner is Wiſdom gone, but he falls into more violent Reproaches for the Gra⯑tification of his Paſſion. All this is a moſt beautiful Paſſage, whoſe Moral is evident, and generally agreed on by the Commentators.’
Now had Minerva only been the Actreſs in this Affair, all this had been a very natural Explica⯑tion; but Homer gives us to underſtand that Mi⯑nerva was *diſpatched by Juno (the Goddeſs of Honour) on this Errand. If therefore Juno be not an utterly inſignificant Perſonage in this Tranſ⯑action, the Honour as well as the Prudence of Achilles muſt be ſuppoſed to ſuggeſt his preſent Conduct to him. But as a Soldier, and a paſſionate one too, no doubt he muſt think himſelf obliged in Point of Honour to take immediate Satisfaction for the Affront which had been put upon him; and ſo his Honour ſuggeſts, what his Prudence forbids. As allegorical Perſons therefore I can't think but Juno and Minerva appear together with ſome Force in this Machine. Nor, by the way, does it ſeem agreeable to the Cha⯑racter of the Goddeſs of Wiſdom to ſuffer Achilles to break out into ſuch ſcurrilous and virulent Ex⯑preſſions [352] as he makes Uſe of in his next Speech to Agamemnon; he does this when Wiſdom is gone, Mr. Pope ſays, but ſtill it was by her Permiſſion, one might ſay Direction indeed.
The Original is ſtronger, and contains a more unlimited Commiſſion; and in conſequence of it Achilles rates his General with a Vengeance;
Even this Paſſage then you ſee is not clear of Difficulties, and as much as may be ſaid in De⯑fence of the allegorical Interpretation, the literal Senſe is at leaſt eaſy, and liable to no Exception.
I will only deſire you to turn once more to the fifth Book, of which Mr. Pope obſerves, * ‘the Allegory lies ſo open, is carried on with ſuch Cloſeneſs, and wound up with ſo much Full⯑neſs and Strength, that it is a Wonder how it could enter into the Imagination of any Critic, that theſe Actions of Diomed were only a daring and extravagant Fiction in Homer, as if he af⯑fected the marvellous at any Rate. The great Moral of it is, that a brave Man ſhould not contend againſt Heaven, but reſiſt only Venus and Mars, Incontinence and ungoverned Fury.’ [353] —‘Nothing is more obſervable than the parti⯑cular Care Homer has taken to ſhew he deſigned this Moral.’—‘Minerva, at the Beginning of the Battle, is made to give this Precept to Diomed: Fight not againſt the Gods, but give Way to them, and reſiſt only VENUS. The Hero himſelf, as ſoon as he has performed her Dictates in driving away Venus, cries out not as to the Goddeſs, but as to the Paſſion, Thou haſt no Buſineſs with Warriors, is it not enough that thou deceiveſt weak Women? Even the Mother of Venus, while ſhe comforts her Daughter, bears Teſtimony to the Moral: That Man (ſays ſhe) is not long liv'd who contends with the Gods. And when Diomed, tranſported by his Nature, proceeds but a Step too far, Apollo diſcovers himſelf in the moſt ſolemn Manner, and de⯑clares this Truth in his own Voice, as it were by direct Revelation: Mortal, forbear, conſider and know the vaſt Difference there is between the Gods and thee, &c.’
Now in the firſt Place I am afraid Homer will not appear to have been ſo particularly careful to ſhew he deſigned this Moral, as Mr. Pope would make us believe. For though Diomed was com⯑manded ‘in the Beginning of the Battle to give Way to the Gods, and reſiſt only Venus, he is afterwards empowered to attack Mars, and any Deity that ſhould come in his Way;’ ‘[354] Not Mars himſelf, nor Ought immortal fear. l. 1020.’ Accordingly he is directed in the Original to fall upon Mars * firſt; and therefore though he actu⯑ally attacks no other God, he ſeems to have been ſufficiently authoriſed to do it, which is a Circum⯑ſtance that claſhes with the Allegory.—But what bears ſtill harder upon it in my Opinion is this, that though the Poet ſpeaks in high Terms of the Bravery and Intrepidity of this Hero, and of the Honour he had to be under the immediate Pro⯑tection of Minerva, yet he repreſents his wound⯑ing of Venus, and contending with the heavenly Powers, as Acts of the higheſt Raſhneſs and Impiety. Obſerve Dione's Words to her Daughter, which Mr. Pope refers to as a Proof of Homer's Intention to inculcate his Moral, &c.
And if you will regulate your Opinion by Virgil's Judgment of this Matter, you will find Diomed [355] † according to that Author, as Mr. Pope remarks, ‘in his Anſwer to the Embaſſador of King Lati⯑nus, enumerating his Misfortunes, and imputing the Cauſe of them to this impious Attempt upon Venus.’
Nay Diomed condemns himſelf for this very Ac⯑tion in his Speech to Glaucus in the next Book, and intimates the great Danger he had expoſed himſelf to by it.
I can't help tranſcribing to you Mr. Pope's Note upon this Place, who begins now to be of the ſame Sentiment. ‘A quick Change of Mind from the greateſt Impiety to as great Superſtition is frequently obſervable in Men, who having been guilty of the greateſt Crimes without any Remorſe, on the ſudden are filled with Doubts and Scruples about the moſt lawful or indiffer⯑ent Actions. This ſeems the preſent Caſe of [356] Diomed, who having knowingly wounded and inſulted the Deities, is now afraid to engage the firſt Man he meets, leſt perhaps a God might be concealed in that Shape.’ I confeſs this Fear of Diomed, which violently ſhakes the Allegory in Queſtion, appears to me inconſiſtent likewiſe with the Tenor of this Hero's Character; nor can I think Mr. Pope brings him off when he acquaints us in the following Note, that ‘what Diomed here ſays is the Effect of Remorſe, as if he had exceeded the Commiſſion of Pallas in encountring with the Gods, and dreaded the Conſequences of proceeding too far. At leaſt he had no ſuch Commiſſion now, and beſides, was no longer capable of diſtinguiſhing them from Men (a Faculty ſhe had given him in the foregoing Book). He there mentions this Story of Lycurgus as an Example that ſufficed to ter⯑rify him from ſo raſh an Undertaking.’
Now in the firſt Place it by no Means appears that this Commiſſion was expired, or that Fa⯑culty ceas'd; at leaſt the contrary may be in⯑ferred from Mr. Pope's Tranſlation of this Speech. Diomed ſays but two Lines above
After all, why ſhould he torment himſelf with Reflections on what he had done only by Virtue of that Commiſſion before, which he was far from [357] exceeding except in his Attempt upon Apollo, from whom however upon the firſt Reproof he retired? Or, why ſhould the Example of Lycur⯑gus, who acted not by divine Impulſe, terrify one who confeſſedly did? In this Light what will become of the allegorical Characters of Minerva, Mars, and Venus; or how comes a Hero to be troubled in Conſcience becauſe he had been re⯑ſiſting Incontinence, and ungoverned Fury? Thus you find this Allegory, which we were told lies ſo open, is clogged likewiſe with its Difficulties; from which indeed neither is the literal Conſtruc⯑tion of the Paſſage clear; for it ſeems unreaſon⯑able that a Man ſhould ſuffer from the Reſent⯑ment of one God for what he committed by the Direction, and Command of another; though this is no unuſual Thing in Pagan Story.
Upon the whole, to have done with the Ma⯑chinery of this great Poet, I leave it to you to judge, whether there is not abundant Ground to conclude, that the Interpreters have frequently taken Pains to aſcertain a Meaning in him which never came into his Head; that if he had a latent and ſymbolical Meaning, at leaſt they have not hit upon it, and that there is more Ingenuity than Solidity, as we have hinted, in many of their Interpretations. In a Word, I cannot ſee how any thing like a regular and conſiſtent Syſtem either of Theology, or of Morality, can be ex⯑tracted [358] from Homer's Machinery—if he drops a Sentiment or an Expreſſion occaſionally, as he often does, with a View one would think to con⯑vince his Reader of the Rectitude of his private Notions with Regard to the Deity, his Jupiter appears to have been a fabulous and traditional Character, and is drawn with Imperfections, and Infirmities incompatible with the natural Ideas of a ſupreme Being. As to the inferior Deities it ſeems impoſſible to form a preciſe Idea of their hidden Significancy, or allegorical Importance, from the Actions which we have ſeen aſcribed to them: So that Homer had really much leſs Deſign in the Plan of his Poem than is ſuppoſed (on which Suppoſition he may however be plainly made more uniform, and of a Piece) or he had much more than has ever yet been, or we may ſuppoſe now ever will be, comprehended. In my next I will conſider in another Point of View the noble Production of this excellent Poet.
LETTER VI.
IT may be proper to remind you in this Place that I neither have ſaid, nor ſhall ſay any thing of Homer with an Intent to leſſen your Opi⯑nion of him, but to ſet it right; for it is one Thing to undervalue a Poet, and another to un⯑deceive the Reader. If Homer be juſtly eſteemed one of the greateſt Geniuſes the World has pro⯑duced, [359] (perhaps the greateſt) it is to be remem⯑bered that he is one of the firſt too; and it is abſurd to look for that Perfection in the Original, which we have a Right to expect in the Copy. It is the Characteriſtic of Invention to be great, of Imitation, to be exact; and if Virgil could not have improved the Model of the Epopee left him by Homer, he ſhould not have taken a Pen in his Hand. The Intervention of Homer with all his De⯑fects will always be the Object of our Admiration; the Judgment of Virgil with all his Proprieties will only deſerve our Praiſe.—I own it has often amazed me to find the Commentators ſo confident to deny, or ſolicitous to extenuate Homer's De⯑fects, which really do no Diſcredit to him, and which ought to be imputed to that Simplicity with which every original Production of the human Mind is naturally imagined. It is, I apprehend, for want of conſidering this great Author in this Light, that the Expoſitors often run into the op⯑poſite Extreme, and are induſtrious to diſcover Beauties and Excellencies which were merely acci⯑dental, and ought rather to be put to the Account of the Editor's Affection or Sagacity, than to that of the Art, or Deſign of the Author.—Un⯑der this Notion I have already ſubmitted to your Conſideration my Sentiments on Homer's Machines; and agreeably to my Propoſal I ſhall next give you my Thoughts upon the Plan or Oeconomy of [360] the Iliad in general, and then proceed to a Re⯑view of the Poet's Conduct in ſome particular In⯑ſtances. Now, I think, it may be noted as a Defect in the general Oeconomy of the Iliad, which is to be aſcribed to the Cauſe juſt men⯑tioned, that the Poet has not taken ſufficient Care to intereſt his Readers on the Side of his Countrymen, notwithſtanding the apparent Juſtice of their Cauſe. This is clear to me from ſeveral Conſiderations, as firſt from the Countenance and Protection given to the Trojans in general by Ju⯑piter, in Preference to the Greeks.—I am very ſenſible the Commentators repreſent this Protec⯑tion as the Conſequence only of that God's Promiſe to Thetis, to humble the Grecians, and do Honour to Achilles.—But is it not as plain too, that Jupiter throughout the Poem is perſonally well⯑affected to Troy in general, and that for very good Reaſons? It appears from Jupiter's Anſwer to Thetis, that he had declared himſelf in the In⯑tereſt of the Trojans long before ſhe made this Application to him,
And he afterwards, in the Council wherein he in⯑timates himſelf diſpoſed to end the War, with the [361] Approbation of the other Deities, by ſuffering the Treaty made upon the Duel of Menelaus, and Paris to take Effect, expreſſes a more than ordi⯑nary Concern for Troy, as a Place that deſerved well at his Hands.
Mr. Pope has a Note from Dacier, which corro⯑borates what I have remarked upon this Head. ‘* Jupiter's Reproaching theſe two Goddeſſes (Juno and Pallas) with neglecting to aſſiſt Menelaus (in the Duel) proceeds from the Af⯑fection he bore to Troy; ſince if Menelaus had gained by their Help a complete Victory, (which it has been obſerved, was a ſufficient one) the Siege had been raiſed, and the City delivered. On the contrary, Juno and Minerva might ſuffer Paris to eſcape, as the Method to con⯑tinue the War, to the total Deſtruction of Troy; and accordingly a few Lines after we find them [362] complotting together, and contriving a new Scene of Miſeries to the Trojans.’ The latter Part of this Note confirms what has been before obſerved, that theſe Goddeſſes ſeem to have been actuated by a Spirit of the moſt inveterate Malice, and Animoſity againſt a whole Race ‘Unius ob⯑noxam.’ The Reſtitution of Helen, &c. was not the grand Object of their Counſels.
Indeed, if you take them in the Groſs, I be⯑lieve you will find the Deities on the Side of Troy (tho' Mars is in the Number) to be more gentle, and mercifully inclined, than thoſe that are the Aſſiſtants of the Greeks.
Again, I can't help being of Opinion that upon the whole, the Poet gives us a much more favour⯑able Idea of the Trojans, than he does of the Greeks, if we regard the Manners, and Characters of the Heroes concerned on both Sides. Let us take a ſhort Vew of the principal Perſonages that fight in the Cauſe of Troy. Hector, as Mr. Pope ſays, ‘* if he is not the chief Hero in the Iliad, is at leaſt the moſt amiable, and is for ſeveral Reaſons a favourite Character with every Rea⯑der.’—‘He ſtands in contraſt to Achilles, an accompliſhed Character of Valour, unruffled by Rage, and Anger, and uniting his People by his Prudence, and Example.’ ‘It is the [363] Love of his Country, which appears his principal Paſſion, and the Motive of all his Actions. He has no other Blemiſh than that he fights in an unjuſt Cauſe, which Homer has yet been careful to tell us he would not do, if his Opinion were followed.’ ‘We may add, that Homer, having ſo many Greeks to celebrate, makes them ſhine it their Turns, &c. whereas Hector appears in every Battle the Life and Soul of his Party, and the conſtant Bul⯑wark againſt every Enemy; he ſtands againſt Agamemnon's Magnanimity, Diomed's Bravery, Ajax's Strength, and Achilles's Fury.’
In a Word, as Mr. Pope tells us in another Place. ‘† Tho' Aeneas is repreſented a Man of great Courage, yet his Piety is his moſt ſhining [364] Character: This is the Reaſon why he is al⯑ways the Care of the Gods, &c.’
The Character of Sarpedon, ſays the ſame Com⯑mentator, is the ‘* moſt faultleſs, and amiable in the whole Iliad. This Hero is by Birth ſu⯑periour to all the Chiefs of either Side, being the only Son of Jupiter engaged in this War. His Qualities are no way unworthy his Deſcent, ſince he every where appears equal in Valour, Prudence, and Eloquence to the moſt admired Heroes: Nor are theſe Excellencies blemiſhed with any of thoſe Defects with which the moſt diſtinguiſhed Characters of the Poem are ſtain⯑ed; ſo that the niceſt Criticks cannot find any Thing to offend their Delicacy, but muſt be obliged to own the Manners of this Hero per⯑fect. His Valour is neither raſh, nor boiſterous, his Prudence neither timorous, nor tricking; and his Eloquence, neither talkative, nor boaſt⯑ing. He never reproaches the Living, nor inſults the Dead; but appears uniform thro' his Con⯑duct in the War, acting with the ſame generous Sentiments that engaged him in it; having no intereſt in the Quarrel, but to ſuccour his Allies in diſtreſs. This noble Life is ended with a Death as glorious; for in his laſt Moments he has no other Concern, but for the Honour of his [365] Friends, and the Event of the Day.’—‘His is the only Death in the Iliad attended with Prodigies; even his Funeral is performed by divine Aſſiſtance, he being the only Hero whoſe Body is carried back to be interred in his native Country, &c.’—‘Theſe peculiar and diſtinguiſhing Honours ſeem appropriated by our Author to him alone, as the Reward of a Merit ſuperiour to all his other leſs perfect Heroes.’ Theſe are the moſt illuſtrious Cha⯑racters on the Side of Troy; tho' the inferiour ones, if not ſo ſtriking, are at leaſt generally ami⯑able and inoffenſive; as thoſe of Deiphobus, He⯑lenus, Polydamas, and Glaucus. Even that of Paris is upon the whole far from being odious, or diſguſting. I believe, among other Things the Value every Reader has for theſe Characters, par⯑ticularly his Love and Eſteem of Hector, inclines his Wiſhes to the Side of Troy. Indeed Mr. Pope has (perhaps undeſignedly) given us in the above Accounts of Sarpedon, a kind of Contraſt to the Manners, and Characters of many of the Leaders in the Grecian Army. For the Valour of Achilles, and of Diomed is undoubtedly raſh, and boiſterous; the Prudence of Ulyſſes is ſometimes * timorous; and the Eloquence of Idomeneus, and Nector is talkative and boaſting. But what Pre⯑judices [366] us more than any Thing elſe againſt the Greeks, is that Cruelty, and Inhumanity which is ſo remarkable in their Chiefs of the firſt Note, and Figure. Granting Achilles in all he does to act in Character, and ſuitably to his ‘ferocious and vindictive Spirit’ the very Nature of the Character itſelf is offenſive, and the Propriety and Coherence with which it is preſerved, diſtaſteful. ‘His Inhumanity in dragging the dead Body of Hector has been ſeverely (and I think indeed not without ſome Juſtice, ſays Mr. Pope) cen⯑ſured by ſeveral, both Antients, and Moderns.’ Indeed the Queſtion is whether the whole Picture of Achilles as drawn by Homer, has not ſtronger, and more violent Features in it than Neceſſity re⯑quired? The Subject of the Poem is the Anger of this Hero, and the ill Conſequences of it to the Greeks; but this brutal Treatment of the Body of a generous Enemy, is neither the natural Effect of that Anger, nor a Soldier-like Revenge for the Death of his Friend Patroclus.—'Tis true, the Commentators have obſerved that, ‘* Homer takes Care before Hand, to leſſen in his Rea⯑der's Mind the Horrour he may conceive from the Cruelty which Achilles will exerciſe upon the Body of Hector, by ſhewing this Cruelty as the Puniſhment only of that which Hector [367] exerciſes upon the Body of Patroclus; he drags him; he deſigns to cut off his Head, and to leave his Body upon the Ramparts, expoſed to Dogs, and Birds of Prey.’ The Obſervation is founded on Fact; but however as this Piece of intended Cruelty is inconſiſtent with Hector's gene⯑ral Character, he ſhould not have been repreſen⯑ted as capable of it, and as it was only intended, it makes not ſo horrible an Impreſſion upon us as the actual Inhumanity of the Poet's favour⯑rite Hero. I have often thought by the way, that the Barbarity of Achilles towards the Re⯑mains of the unfortunate, and univerſally beloved Hector, occaſioned the Miſrepreſentation of the very Fact of his Death by the well-known Story, (which Shakeſpeare adheres to in his Troilus and Creſſida) of Achilles's ungenerouſly attacking him unarmed, and cutting him to Pieces.—So de⯑ſirous was the exaſperated Author to depreciate the Character of this Hero, and exalt that of his Adverſary. But to return; be the Charac⯑ter of Achilles as "poetically perfect" as poſſible, and the Morality to be drawn from it as obvious as you pleaſe, he ſeems to have the leaſt Merit of any of the principal Perſonages in the Poem, and we can ſcarce help being ſorry to ſee ſo many deteſtable Qualities on the right Side of the Queſ⯑tion: In a Word "the Virtues of Humanity" which he *diſcovers in the 24th Book, when [368] he reſtores the Body of Hector to Priam, and "the amiable Qualities" which Mr. Pope tells us ‘ſoften the terrible Ideas we have conceived of him’ are exerciſed too late to wipe off the Stain of his paſt unheroical, and unmanly Beha⯑viour; eſpecially when we conſider that this Act of Humanity was the Effect of Jupiter's expreſs Command, delivered by his Mother Thetis.
In ſhort, though we cannot but take Notice of a great deal of Inſolence and Cruelty on both Sides, and are ſhocked, as Mr. Pope confeſſes he is, at the many Inſtances of Inhumanity that oc⯑cur throughout the Poem, ‘which however are not to be *imputed to the Poet, who followed Nature as it was in his Days, but to be aſcribed to the uncivilized Manners of thoſe Times, when Mankind was not united by the Bonds of a rational Society,’ yet I believe we ſhall find much more Blame due to the Greeks, than to the Trojans upon this Score. Not to inſiſt upon thoſe other glaring Proofs of a bloody, and unmerciful Diſpoſition, which Achilles gives in the killing Lycaon †, taking twelve Captives whom he ſa⯑crifices afterwards to the Manes of Patroclus, we ſee Agamemnon too upon certain Occaſions betray⯑ing a fierce, and cruel Temper; as particularly when he prevails upon his Brother to take away a Trojan's Life which he was inclined in Compaſſion [369] to *ſpare. I do not know where you will meet with more ſavage Sentiments than thoſe of this General in the following Speech to Menelaus.
And if you will turn to the Original you will per⯑haps think it much ſoftened in this Tranſlation; notwithſtanding Mr. Pope's Obſervation †from Madam Dacier. It ſhould be remembered too, that the venerable Neſtor himſelf is a Spectator and Applauder of this Act of Cruelty.
But there is one Conſideration behind that in⯑tereſts the Reader in the Behalf of Troy, much more than all the reſt; I mean that of the private Characters of Priam and his Royal Family. Mr. Pope is of Opinion that ‘the Poet's chief ‡Inten⯑tion in making Hector retire from the Battle to carry a Meſſage to Troy &c. was to introduce the fine Epiſode of his parting with Andromache’ [370] in which the †amiable Picture of conjugal Love ‘Homer has drawn gives us Cauſe to think his Genius was no leſs capable of touching the Heart with Tenderneſs, than of firing it with Glory.’ ‘This Epiſode, (ſays that excellent Perſon,) tends very much to raiſe the Character of Hector, and endear him to every Reader,’ and indeed we cannot admire this Hero more in the Field, than we love him at Home. His Con⯑duct, his Courage, and his Valour are common to him with many others, but his affectionate Tenderneſs to his Parents, his Wife, his Child, and his Friends is characteriſtical, and peculiar to himſelf.
In a Word, you cannot, I believe, but be a Well-wiſher to the Houſe of Priam, when you conſider the general Character of this good old Man himſelf, whoſe only Fault was his Indulgence to his Children, and eſpecially his Piety which "renders him a Favourite of Jupiter," and pro⯑cures him the Reſtitution of his Son's Body; or when you look into the Manners of his whole Fa⯑mily, not even Helen excepted, but as ſhe is the Miſtreſs of Paris, or Paris himſelf, but as he is the Admirer of that fatal Beauty. Upon the whole, I leave you to judge whether the Grecians do not deſerve the Appellation of barbarous, ac⯑cording to the worſt Acceptation of the Term, much more than the People, or the Allies of Troy.
[371] I cannot think then with Mr. Pope that ‘Ho⯑mer *always appears very zealous for the Ho⯑nour of Greece,’ or even that he ſeems to be ſo in the Inſtance produced to ſupport the Aſſer⯑tion; I mean, that of the ‘Trojans in the Begin⯑ning of the third Book ruſhing on to the Battle in a barbarous and confuſed Manner with loud Shouts and Cries, while the Greeks advance in the moſt profound Silence and exact Order.’ This Circumſtance, it ſeems, is a Proof of the Poet's ‘Endeavour every where to repreſent the Greeks as ſuperiour to the Trojans in Valour, and the Art of War,’ to which if you add the Cir⯑cumſtance of ‘the Grecians being animated by Pallas and the Trojans inſtigated by Mars’ i. e. the former, "by a well-conducted Valour," and the latter by "raſh Strength and brutal Force," the Matter will bear no Diſpute. What Weight there is in this latter Circumſtance you will eaſily ſee upon recollecting what has been already re⯑marked upon the Machines of Homer, and for the former, I think you will agree with me, that little is to be fairly inferred from it to the Advantage of the Greeks. The Trojan ‘Manner of encountering with Shouts and Outcries’ is no Argument againſt their military Diſcipline, or Proof that they were not drawn up in as "exact Order" as the [372] Grecians themſelves. ‘* Perhaps theſe Clamours were only to encourage their Men, inſtead of martial Inſtruments,’ as Mr. Pope has not ſcru⯑pled to intimate; at leaſt it is a Peculiarity (as what Nation is without one?) that does no Diſcredit to their Diſcipline, or Skill in the "Art of War." Indeed the ſuppoſed conſtant †Superiority of the Grecians &c. is by no means ſo apparent to me as it has been to the Commentators in general; and probably you may be of the ſame Mind if you will refer to Book iv. L. 508, &c. to Book viii. L. 73, &c. to Book xi. L. 93, &c. to Book vii. L. 11, &c. 23, &c. &c. and to other Places, wherein there ſeems to be no Sort of Inferiority on the Part of Troy in reſpect of Conduct, Bravery, or Reſolution. More might be ſaid upon this Article, but I have exceeded the ordinary Bounds of my Letters, and indeed ſhould not have ſaid ſo much, but that I thought it neceſſary to enter into ſuch Particularities as theſe in order to give you the clearer Idea of an Author whoſe Work, I preſume, you will think it a rational Amuſement thoroughly to examine and diſcuſs.
LETTER VII.
I Have two more Objections to the general Oeconomy of the Iliad which I am apt to be⯑lieve, a little Attention will convince you are rea⯑ſonable [373] ones; the firſt is, that Achilles, the Hero of the Poem, is not the firſt Perſonage in it in Point of Dignity. Hector is his Superiour in every amiable Quality, and Agamemnon no leſs ſo in Power, and Command: And as the former Con⯑ſideration prepoſſeſſes the Reader in Favour of the Trojan General, ſo the latter has at leaſt a Ten⯑dency to intereſt us on the Side of Authority in the Quarrel at the Beginning of the Poem: And the more ſo, as Homer, if he was not a Friend to ab⯑ſolute Monarchy, does yet ſpeak in very high Terms of the ſacred Rights, and inviolable Su⯑premacy of Kings:
and afterwards,
Old Neſtor talks in the ſame Strain when he at⯑tempts to pacify theſe Chiefs; (ſee Line 367, &c.) as does Ulyſſes in the next Book. (ſee L. 243, &c.
But beſides the viſible Propriety there had been in making Achilles Commander in Chief, with which Appointment the great Deſign of the Poem, [374] and the due Execution of it were without Doubt conſiſtent, it is plain that for Want of it you will meet with much Incongruity, not to ſay Abſur⯑dity, in many Places. One obvious Example ſhall ſuffice to maintain the Allegation; which is that of Achilles's convening the Council in the firſt Book; an Act of Royalty that became him no more than it would Diomed, Ulyſſes, or any ſecondary Commander in the Army. Indeed this very Circumſtance you find mentioned by Mr. Pope in his Note from Plutarch and Euſtathius, as doing great Honour to the Judgment of Homer; for which Reaſon it will be proper to tranſcribe it.—‘Plutarch obſerves, how juſtly Homer applies the Characters of his Perſons to the Incidents; not making Agamemnon, but Achilles call this Council, who of all the Kings was moſt capable of making Obſervations upon the Plague, and of foreſeeing its Duration, as having been bred by Chiron to the Study of Phyſick. One may mention alſo a Remark of Euſtathius in Pur⯑ſuance to this, that Juno's adviſing him in this Caſe might allude to his Knowledge of an evil Temperament in the Air, of which ſhe was Goddeſs.’ Now admitting the ſuppos'd Skill of this Hero, &c. to have been a good Reaſon for his private Advice in regard to the Convention of this Council, and for his delivering his Opinion in it with more than ordinary Freedom and Con⯑fidence, [375] yet how it could give him a Right to call it, or to open it in Conſequence of ſo doing with a formal Speech, I confeſs, I can't at all comprehend.—You will give me Leave juſt to illuſtrate what I have been obſerving upon this Head, by directing you to a Paſſage in the 24th Book, in which Achilles at the Height of his Glory, and Popularity among the Greeks, and at the very Inſtant that ‘he promiſes * Priam a Ceſſation of Arms purely by his own Authority’ does nevertheleſs in Effect acknowledge his Sub⯑ordination to the Imperial Character, and by his Apprehenſions of the Conſequences of the preſent Proceeding: as if the Poet, even while he is ag⯑grandizing his Hero, was conſcious of aſcribing an Importance to him unſuitable to the Inferiority of his Station.
You obſerve there is an Inconſiſtency here which would have been ſaved had Achilles been the principal Perſon in reſpect of Precedence, as well as Valour, &c. &c.
But it is Time to come to the other Objection, which, as I am not ſingular in it, I will give you in the Words of Mr. Pope's Note prefixed to the 23d Book of the Iliad, and endeavour to confirm it by a Remark or two upon what that Expoſitor has offered by way of Vindication of his Author. ‘This, and the following Book, which contain the Deſcription of the Funeral of Patroclus, and other Matters relating to Hector, are undoubt⯑edly ſuper-added to the grand Cataſtrophe of the Poem; for the Story is compleatly finiſhed with the Death of that Hero in the 22d Book. Many judicious Criticks have been of Opinion, that Homer is blameable for protracting it. Virgil cloſes the whole Scene of Action with the Death of Turnus, and leaves the reſt to be ima⯑gined by the Mind of the Reader: He does not draw the Picture at full Length, but delineates it ſo far, that we cannot fail of imagining the whole Draught. There is however one Thing to be ſaid in Favour of Homer, which may perhaps juſtify him in his Method that what he [377] undertook to paint was the Anger of Achilles; and as that Anger does not die with Hector, but perſecutes his very Remains, ſo the Poet ſtill keeps up to his Subject; nay, it ſeems to require that he ſhould carry down the Relation of that Reſentment, which is the Foundation of his Poem, till it is fully ſatisfied: And as this ſurvives Hector, and gives the Poet an Oppor⯑tunity of ſtill ſhewing many ſad Effects of Achilles's Anger, the two following Books may be thought not to be Excreſcencies, but eſſen⯑tial to the Poem.’
‘Virgil had been inexcuſable had he trod in Homer's Footſteps; for it is evident that the Fall of Turnus, by giving Aeneas a full Power over Italy, anſwers the whole Deſign and Intention of the Poem; had he gone farther he had over⯑ſhot his Mark; and though Homer proceeds after Hector's Death, yet the Subject is ſtill the Anger of Achilles.’ Now, I apprehend, the Anger of Achilles, which is the ‘Foundation of the Poem,’ is entirely diſtinct from that Anger, or rather Revenge with which he ‘perſecutes the very Remains of Hector,’ and that the whole declared "Deſign and Intention" of the Poet was "to paint the Anger of Achilles" as the Source of all the Misfortunes the Grecians underwent; which were ended by the Reconciliation of that Chief and Agamemnon. We then ſee as plainly the [378] good Effects of Union to the Greeks, as we did the fatal Conſequences of Diſcord through the moſt conſiderable Part of the Poem; and there⯑fore the Death of Hector, and the Triumph of the Grecians thereupon was the proper, and natural Cataſtrophe of the Iliad. The Anger of Achilles, conſidered as the Paſſion he was addicted to, might have been protracted through many Books more.—In ſhort, the Super-addition of theſe Books, eſpe⯑cially the latter, inſtead of being juſtifiable by the Reaſons above alledged, does even come within the Reach of a former Objection: For the Care taken of Hector's Body by two *Deities, the De⯑bate in Heaven †concerning the Redemption of the ſame by Priam, the Interpoſition of Jupiter in Behalf of his deceaſed Votary, Mercury's ‡con⯑ducting Priam to the Tent of Achilles, the Inter⯑view of the two Monarchs, and laſtly, the ſeveral pathetic Lamentations made over the Corps of the unfortunate Hero by his Friends, and Relations at Troy, with which the Poem concludes; I ſay, theſe Incidents confirm our former Prepoſſeſſions in Favour of Hector, leave the moſt tender Im⯑preſſions on our Minds, and at the ſame Time inſpire us with freſh Indignation at the Inſolence, and Barbarity of his implacable Enemy.—Such are the Defects, as I conceive, in the general Oeco⯑nomy [379] of the Ilias.—In my next I will communi⯑cate to you ſome Obſervations I have made upon the particular Conduct of the great Author in Relation to Characters, Incidents, and other Cir⯑cumſtances, &c. &c.
LETTER VIII.
HOMER is with much Juſtice to be admired in the main for the agreeable Variety of his Characters, and for the remarkable Spirit, and Uniformity with which each of them is ſuſtained. If he is ſometimes faulty upon this Article it is to be aſcribed to mere human Infirmity perhaps, or in ſome Caſes to that Simplicity which, as has been ſaid, diſtinguiſhes the Inventors of Arts and Sci⯑ences from the Improvers of them. To one of theſe it is probably owing that we ſee ſuch a ſcan⯑dalous Character as that of Therſites in the Iliad, or ſo contemptible a one as that of Nireus: The latter, the moſt beautiful, the former, the moſt deformed Perſon of the Poem. 'Tis obſervable, Mr. Pope informs us, ‘that * Therſites is never heard of after his firſt Appearance: Such a ſcan⯑dalous Character is to be taken no more Notice of, than juſt to ſhew that 'tis deſpiſed.’ But whether ludicrous or ſcandalous Characters ‘ought to have Place in the Epic Poem may be juſtly [380] queſtioned,’ or whether it be a Beauty or Pro⯑priety to introduce a Perſon but once, who ſeems to be utterly unworthy to appear at all. As for * Nireus, the Inſignificancy of his Cha⯑racter, ſhould, I think, have excluded him from the Iliad, who likewiſe makes his Appearance once too often. The Truth is, neither of theſe Per⯑ſonages are of any Service towards the Illuſtration of a principal Character. The Caution with which the Courage of Ulyſſes is tempered, ſets off the Intrepidity of Diomed, and the Activity of Hector is finely oppoſed to the Immobility of Ajax; but the above-mentioned Gentlemen are at beſt unneceſſary Contraſts to each other, and Foils to every Body elſe.—But that you may not imagine, I am induſtriouſly looking after Objections, and picking out Characters for the ſake of finding Fault, (an Office I abhor) I muſt deſire you to look a little farther into a Character or two of much higher Rank, which you will, I believe, find to be liable to the Objection of not being preſerved with that Nicety of Conſiſtence, and Uniformity, which is in general ſo Obſervable in this noble Writer. If you will judge of the Cha⯑racter of Menelaus, by the Idea which Mr. Pope juſtly gives us of him, †who has taken ſome Pains to place it in a true Point of View, you will be, [381] I make no doubt, of Opinion, that ‘upon the whole, his Character is by no Means con⯑temptible, tho' not of the moſt ſhining Na⯑ture: He is called indeed in the 17th Iliad. [...], a ſoft Warriour, or one whoſe Strength is of the ſecond Rate; and ſo his Brother thought him when he preferred Nine before him to Fight with Hector, in the 7th Book.’ Thus far you may ſafely Subſcribe to Mr. Pope's Notion of this Commander; but I am afraid what follows for the Diſplay of the bright Side of this Character, will claſh rather too much with theſe Conceſſions made to his Diſ⯑advantage. For how comes this ſoft Warriour (whom, you know, I have mentioned before in another Light,) to diſcover a ‘Spirit of Revenge which diſtinguiſhes him from all the other Greeks in the ſecond Book,’ ‘No *Leader in all the Liſt is repreſented ſo eager and paſſio⯑nate; he is louder than them all in his Exhor⯑tations; more active in running among the Troops, &c. &c.’
If Homer meant to ſhew us hereby that ‘† his Concern in the War was perſonal, while the others acted only for Intereſt or Glory in gene⯑ral,’ it is odd ſure that he does not maintain this Priority of Zeal and Ardour, as a conſequence [382] of that Concern throughout the Poem. Again is it not hard to Account for his * Forwardneſs, to accept Hector's Challenge, who immediately afterwards was not thought worthy even to take his Chance of fighting with him? It may be ſaid, that Agamemnon diſſuades his brother from the Combat, from a Principle of Brotherly Love, not from any Diſtruſt of his Courage, of which he appears to have ſo extraordinary an Opinion in the 4th Book, when Menelaus is wounded by Pandarus, that he expreſſes his Apprehenſions, ‘that the Death of that Hero, will force the Greeks to return with ſhame to their Country.’
But if his Life was of ſuch Conſequence to Greece, he ſhould never have been ſtiled a ſoft Warriour, or a Chief of the ſecond Rate.
I will only point out to what I think rather an Overſight than not in Homer, with regard to ano⯑ther Character, and then quit the preſent Article of Inquiry; I mean the Character of Ajax, whom, not abſolutely, but comparatively ſpeaking, I can't look upon as a proper Perſon to be diſpatched upon the Embaſſy to Achilles in the 9th Book. Mr. Pope however informs us ‘that the Choice of [383] three †Perſons (Phoenix, Ajax, and Ulyſſes) is made with a great deal of Judgment. Achilles could not but reverence the venerable Phoenix, &c. Ajax, and Ulyſſes, had been diſgraced in the firſt Book (L. 187) as well as he, and were therefore proper Perſons to perſuade him to forgive, as they had forgiven; beſides it was the greateſt Honour that could be done to Achilles, to ſend the moſt worthy Perſonages in the Army to him. Ulyſſes was inferiour to none in Eloquence, but to Neſtor. Ajax was ſecond to none in Valour but to Achilles. Ajax might have an influence over him as a Relation, &c.’
Yet as ingenious as all this may be, 'tis certain, that of all the Heroes, Ajax was the worſt Ora⯑tor, and ſo far at leaſt he was was unqualified for the Charge in Queſtion.—He is by no means a favourite Character with the Poet himſelf; if he had he would have ‘given him a Prize pro⯑bably in ſome of the Games in the 23d Book;’ one Reaſon why he did not, Mr. Pope ſuppoſes might be, becauſe he had a Mind to ſhew that ‘Strength without Conduct, is uſually unſuc⯑ceſsful,’ which gives us no favourable Idea of this Hero, and much leſs authorizes us to pro⯑nounce him one of the ‘moſt worthy Perſon⯑ages in the Army;’ that he was ſecond to none [384] in Strength but to Achilles, may be granted; but in Valour he has no doubt many Competitors.—In Truth I can't help looking upon this as a ran⯑dom Delegation, notwithſtanding a few plauſible Circumſtances, which ſurely never entered the Author's Head, viz. the Diſgrace of Ajax and Ulyſſes in the firſt Book, &c. (a Diſgrace which, by the way, they neither of them reſent, or allude to, in their Speeches to Achilles) or the Relation⯑ſhip of Ajax to that Hero, which he takes not the leaſt Advantage of in his Addreſs to him.—Mr. Pope in the Note laſt quoted, appears there⯑fore rather to have acted the Part of a ready Friend, than an impartial Commentator.—I will only ſuppoſe, and have done, that Diomed had been employed in this Deputation inſtead of Ajax;—in that Caſe can't you conceive Mr. Pope would have expreſſed himſelf to the following Pur⯑poſe? ‘It is with wonderful Art and Propriety, that Homer appoints Diomed one of the Embaſ⯑ſadors upon this Occaſion. It did Honour to Achilles to ſend upon this Buſineſs the moſt valiant, with the wiſeſt of all the Grecian Commanders. Beſides, Diomed *has more of the Character of Achilles himſelf, than any be⯑ſides. He has naturally an Exceſs of Boldneſs, and too much Fury in his Temper, forward [385] and intrepid like the other, and running after Gods or Men promiſcuouſly as they offer themſelves. Add to this, that as he is forward to act in the Field, ſo is he ready to ſpeak in the Council; where his Advice always inclines to War; and is byaſſed rather on the Side of Bravery, than Caution. A Man of this Diſpoſition was moſt likely to influence the Congenial Spirit of Achilles.’—An Ingenious Commentator may take a thouſand Occaſions of making the moſt of his Author, and convert Improprieties themſelves into Beauties; of which I believe I ſhall be able to give you a few more Proofs in my remaining Criticiſms upon the Iliad of Homer.
LETTER IX.
THE moſt material Remarks I have farther to make upon the particular Conduct of Homer, &c. I ſhall communicate to you in Order, as the Paſſages which ſeem exceptionable will occur in the Courſe of the Poem. The firſt that offers itſelf is the Interpoſition of Neſtor in the firſt Book in the Speech wherein he endea⯑vours to make up the Breach between the con⯑tending Princes, Achilles and Agamemnon; which, as the Deſign of the Iliad required it ſhould be ineffectual, I could wiſh he had ſpared. Mr. Pope obſerves, ‘* that the Character of Autho⯑rity [386] and Wiſdom in Neſtor, is every where ad⯑mirably uſed by Homer, and made to exert it⯑ſelf through all the great Emergencies of the Poem. As he quiets the Princes here (which how he does we ſhall ſee preſently) he pro⯑poſes that Expedient which reduces the Army into order, after the Sedition in the ſecond Book. When the Greeks are in the utmoſt Diſtreſſes, 'tis he who adviſes the Building the Fortification before the Fleet, &c. And 'tis by his Perſuaſion that Patroclus puts on the Armour of Achilles, which occaſions the return of that Hero, &c. &c.’ In theſe laſt mentioned Emergencies, indeed the Authority of this vene⯑rable Hero has all the Weight you can deſire; but ſure in the preſent Inſtance, in which if it had prevailed, all future Emergencies had been precluded, it was exerted to no, or at beſt, very little Purpoſe. The old Man is repreſented as Maſter of the Art of Perſuaſion, and riſes to ſpeak with all the Advantages of the ſweeteſt Eloquence, and the Experience of two Generations; and he ſeems accordingly to promiſe himſelf Succeſs in the Propoſal of an Accommodation.
But what Effect, after all, has this Oratory? ‘Agamemnon confeſſes that all he ſpoke was right,’ but he will not relinquiſh his Preten⯑ſions to Briſeïs. ‘Achilles promiſes not to fight for Briſeïs,’ but neither will he for his Country; opprobious Language is given on both Sides; ‘the Council diſſolves’ and the Calamities of Greece enſue. For which Reaſons I think ‘the Elo⯑quence of Homer's Neſtor is thrown out of Character by its proving unavailable’ for the great End he deſigned it.—If he had not ſpoken at all, or upon offering to do it, had been inter⯑rupted, and prevented by the Fury of Achilles, who ſeems to have leſs Veneration for him, than Agamemnon, that Hero had acted in Character, and the Eloquence of the reverened Orator had never been exerciſed in vain.
The next Objection I have to make, is againſt the imprudent, and unneceſſary Meaſure taken by Agamemnon, to ſound the Diſpoſition of the Gre⯑cians [388] in the ſecond Book, by propoſing the Re⯑turn of the Forces to Greece; a Propoſal which had taken Effect, but for the Management of Ulyſſes, and Neſtor. It is likely indeed, (to give you the Words of Dionyſius of Halicarnaſſus, *who, in Mr. Pope's Opinion, has given us an admirable Explication of this whole Conduct) ‘Agamemnon (after his Quarrel with Achilles) had nothing ſo much at Heart as to draw the Greeks to a Battle, yet knew not how to proceed without Achilles, who had juſt retired from the Army: He was apprehenſive that the Greeks who were diſpleaſed at the Departure of Achilles, might refuſe Obedience to his Orders, ſhould he ab⯑ſolutely command it. In this Circumſtance he propoſes an Expedient to the Princes in Coun⯑cil, which was that he ſhould ſound the Diſ⯑poſitions of the People, by exhorting them to ſet ſail for Greece, but, that then, the other Princes ſhould be ready to diſſuade, and detain them.—He had ſome Cauſe to fear the Greeks had a Pique againſt him, which they had concealed, and whatever it was, he judged it abſolutely neceſſary to know it, before he pro⯑ceeded to a Battle. He therefore furniſhes them with an Occaſion to manifeſt it, and at the ſame Time provides againſt any ill Effects it [389] might have by his ſecret Orders to the Princes. It ſucceeds accordingly, and when the Troops are running to embark, they are ſtopped by Ulyſſes and Neſtor.’—Now not to inſiſt upon an inaccuracy in this Note; i. e. that Agamemnon ‘judged it Neceſſary to know what the Pique the Grecians had againſt him was,’ which if they had any, could be no other than what aroſe from "their Diſpleaſure at the departure of Achilles," as is expreſſed in the former Part of the Note; I ſay, not to dwell upon this, the Queſtion is, whe⯑ther this Stratagem was not abſolutely ſuperſeded by the Viſion ſent by Jupiter to Agamemnon? The Deſign of this Viſion was to deceive him into the Hope, or rather Aſſurance of taking Troy without the Aſſiſtance of Achilles. And it had its Effect. The General, perſuaded, as it were by immedi⯑ate Revelation, of Jupiter's Favour towards him, and Concern for his Glory, and exalted with the Thought of the promiſed Succeſs to his Arms, communicates his Dream to the Princes in Coun⯑cil, who appear to a Man to be ſatisfied of the Reality of it, and of the Good-will of Jupiter to the Grecian Cauſe. Old Neſtor gives his Advice in conſequence of this Conviction.
Let me aſk you now, whether, if this Dream had been communicated to the Troops, as well as the Council, they would not as readily have given Credit to it, and have been impatient to fol⯑low to battle a Leader who was the declared Favourite of Heaven? Would not the Belief of taking Troy in the next Attack, under his Com⯑mand, have entirely removed the Pique they had conceived againſt him on Account of the De⯑parture of Achilles? if ſo, as ingenious as the Stratagem in Queſtion may be in itſelf, and as artful as the Speech of Agamemnon is, which he makes in purſuance of it, it ſeems to be an Expedient, to which, as Things were then cir⯑cumſtanced, he was not under the leaſt Neceſ⯑ſity, nor in Prudence concerned, to have Re⯑courſe.
If you will next turn to the 6th Book, I pre⯑ſume you will find an Inconſiſtency between Hec⯑tor's very particular Prophecy of the Deſtruction of Troy, and his Prayer for his Son immediately after; as alſo, the "ſtrong Hopes *and firm Aſſu⯑rance" [391] he often entertains ‘of raiſing the Siege by the Flight or Deſtruction of the Greeks.’
[392] I don't apprehend that what Mr. Pope has urged from Dacier, or advanced himſelf, in order to ſalve this Inconſiſtency, will afford us ſufficient Satisfaction. ‘We ought to reflect, ſays he, that this is only a Prayer: Hector in the Exceſs of a tender Emotion for his Son, intreats the Gods to preſerve Troy, and permit Aſtyanax to rule there. It is at all Times allowable to beſeech Heaven to appeaſe its Anger, and change its Decrees; and we are taught that Prayers can alter Deſ⯑tiny.’—We are taught, I conceive the very Reverſe of this by the general Tenour of the Poem: This Aſſertion however, ſuppoſes Hector to have foreſeen the Deſtruction of Troy, and the Ruin of his Family; and yet we are told in the next Sentence, ‘that it cannot be inferred from hence, that Hector had any divine Foreknow⯑ledge of his Fate, &c. ſince in many following Paſſages we find him poſſeſſed with ſtrong Hopes, &c. to raiſe the Siege, &c.’ Is not this a ſort of Confuſion of Apologies, and a Defence of one Inconſiſtency by another? In ſhort, the di⯑rect, and expreſs Prophecy above quoted, cannot without much Force, be reſolved into the mere ‘Apprehenſions and Miſgivings of a Soul dejec⯑ted with Sorrow, &c. by conſidering the great Dangers to which he ſaw all that was dear to him expoſed.’
[393] But to proceed—The Circumſtance of Jupiter's weighing in his Scales the Fates of Greece and Troy in the 8th Book, and thoſe of Hector and Achilles in the 22d, has ſomething very ſtriking, and poetical in it, but at the ſame Time, is it⯑ſelf liable to the Objection made by Macrobius to Virgil's Imitation of it. ‘Macrobius, ſays *Mr. Pope, obſerves with ſome Colour, that the Ap⯑plication of this Circumſtance is not ſo juſt in Virgil, as in our Author; for Virgil had made Juno ſay before, that Turnus would cer⯑tainly periſh.’
But is it not as clear that the Fates of Greece and Troy, and of Hector and Achilles in Homer, were reſpectively, to all Intents and Purpoſes, de⯑clared before this Suſpenſion of the Scales?—Ju⯑piter, in the Beginning of the 8th Book ‘threatens the Deities with the Pains of Tartarus, if they aſſiſt either Side,’ he had in the End of the the preceeding †Book given Tokens of his Wrath againſt the Grecians; and if we could doubt whe⯑ther the Threatning juſt mentioned; was denoun⯑ced in favour of the Trojans, Minerva's Requeſt [394] "that ſhe may direct the Greeks by her Counſels" muſt abundantly convince us that it was.
In the Caſe of Hector, Jupiter is undeniably explicit; he declares the Fate of that Hero ap⯑proaching, tho' he is inclined, with the Conſent of the inferiour Deities, to reſcue him from it.
So that Virgil appears at leaſt not only to have copied this Circumſtance from Homer, but to have applied it with more Juſtice; for what Juno ſaid previouſly to the Suſpenſion of the Scales, is not at leaſt ſo glaring an Impropriety as what Ju⯑piter ſays here himſelf. The beſt excuſe perhaps for both theſe great Poets, we may borrow from a Note of Mr. Pope's, in the 20th Book, ‘* that it was not eaſy in the Pagan Religion, to form the juſteſt Ideas upon a Doctrine (viz. that of Deſtiny, the Divine Power, &c.) ſo difficult to [395] be cleared; and upon which it is no great Wonder if a Poet ſhould not always be per⯑fectly conſiſtent with himſelf, when it has puzzled ſuch a Number of Divines, and Phi⯑loſophers.’
Before I quit this Remark, I muſt juſt take Notice of an Overſight in Mr. Pope, who tells us in his Note *upon the Circumſtance of Jupiter's weighing the Fates, &c. that ‘This Figure re⯑preſenting God as weighing the deſtinies of Men in his Balances, was firſt made uſe of in Holy Writ.’ Are theſe only figurative Scales in Homer then? Sure Aeſchylus did not look upon them to be ſuch, when (as Mr. Pope informs us from Plutarch) ‘he wrote a whole Tragedy upon this Foundation, which he called Pſycho⯑ſtatia, or the weighing of Souls. In this he in⯑troduced Thetis and Aurora ſtanding on either Side of Jupiter's Scales, and praying each for her Son, while the Heroes fought.’ I don't ſee therefore how any Parallel can reaſonably be drawn between this Paſſage, which muſt be lite⯑rally underſtood in Homer, and thoſe figurative Expreſſions in Scripture, ‘of being weighed in the Balance, and found light, &c. by which the Impartiality of divine Juſtice is ſignificantly illuſtrated to the human Underſtanding. How [396] far Milton may be warranted in borrowing’ this fine Fiction from Homer, which it is acknow⯑ledged "he has admirably improved" or in repre⯑ſenting the Deity with a Pair of golden Compaſſes in his Hand upon another Occaſion, it is not my preſent Buſineſs to inquire.—Thus much at leaſt may be ſaid in his Behalf, that Boldneſſes give no Offence when there is no Allay of Impiety in them. Theſe Remarks ſhall be continued in my next.
EETTER X.
IN the *12th Book of the Iliad we have an Account of a ſignal Prodigy which much awakens the Reader's Attention, but I think never ſatisfies it. I mean that of the Eagle with the Serpent in his Talons, &c. which appears over the Trojan Army. Polydamas †, upon duly conſidering it, pronounces it to be a Warning to them from Jupiter not to attempt the Grecian Entrenchments that Day, but to re⯑treat, &c. ‘He tells Hector too that what he delivers is not Conjecture, but Science, and appeals for the Truth of it to the Augurs of the Army.’ But notwithſtanding all this, Hector holds the Interpretation of the Omen in the ut⯑moſt Contempt, and inſinuates that ‘the Advice proceeded not from the Skill, but Cowardice’ [397] of the Interpreter. He appears indeed to have been in the right not only from the Succeſs of the Trojan Arms at the End of the Book, when Sar⯑pedon ‘makes the firſt Breach in the Grecian Wall’ and himſelf forces open one of the "Gates," but even from the Countenance, and Aſſiſtance of Jupiter to the Trojans immediately after the Prodigy itſelf. For the Poet tells us at the Concluſion of Hector's Speech to Polydamas, and upon his "ruſhing to the Wall" (L. 295) that
Either therefore this Appearance had no Signifi⯑cancy in it, and then it will be difficult to account for the Solemnity with which Homer introduces it, or for his introducing it at all, or elſe it boded Misfortune to the Grecians; in which Caſe Poly⯑damas, who is every where ſhewn in a favourable Light enough, makes if not a cowardly yet an ig⯑norant Application of it.
Macrobius it ſeems *compares Virgil's Imita⯑tion of this Paſſage in the 11th Aeneid, V. 751, &c. with the Original, and ‘gives the Preference to [398] the latter on Account of Virgil's having neg⯑lected to ſpecify the Omen.’ Mr. Pope takes No⯑tice in another Place of this Author's Partiality to Homer; and his Obſervation on this Circum⯑ſtance is a ſtrong Inſtance of it. ‘He ſhould have conſidered (as Mr. Pope remarks) that Virgil had no Deſign, or Occaſion to make an Omen of it; but took it only as a natural Image, to paint the Poſture of two Warriours ſtruggling with each other.’ What Deſign or Occaſion Homer himſelf had for an Omen in this Place, you ſee 'tis not ſo eaſy to ſay; you have however a Proof of the Latin Poet's Judgment, and may ob⯑ſerve that a needleſs, or unintelligible Prodigy in Homer will make an excellent Simile in Virgil.
The Receſs *of the Gods in the 20th Book is an Incident, which Mr. Pope ‘wonders all the Commentators ſhould be ſilent upon; it ſeems ſtrange at the firſt View, ſays he, that ſo many Deities, after having entered the Scene of Ac⯑tion, ſhould perform ſo ſhort a Part and im⯑mediately become themſelves Spectators.’ I muſt indeed look upon this as an Objection to the Conduct of the Poet. Let us hear however what Mr. Pope has urged in his Vindication. He ‘con⯑ceives then the Reaſon of this Conduct in the Poet to be, that Achilles has been inactive dur⯑ing the greateſt Part of the Poem; and as he [399] is the Hero of it, ought to be the chief Cha⯑racter in it: The Poet therefore withdraws the Gods from the Field, that Achilles may have the whole Honour of the Day, and not act in Subordination to the Deities; beſides the Poem now draws to a Concluſion, and it is neceſſary for Homer to enlarge upon the Exploits of Achilles, that he may leave a noble Idea of his Valour upon the Mind of the Reader.’
Now I would take the Liberty to aſk, whether it be derogatory to the important Character of Achilles to act in Subordination to the Deities? Whether their Superintendency and Aſſiſtance has not been an Honour to every Hero in the Courſe of the Iliad, particularly to Diomed in the fifth Book? Whether Achilles himſelf makes ſo great a Figure in this Book as he does in the next when ‘Scamander attacks him with all his Waves; when Neptune and Pallas *appear to aſſiſt him: Simois joins Scamander, and at length Vulcan, by the Inſtigation of Juno, almoſt dries up the River.’ Does the Interpoſition of theſe Deities do a Diſcredit to the Valour of Achilles, or ‘leave a leſs noble Idea of it upon the Mind of the Reader’ than he would have had without it?—I dare ſay you will agree with me that what Mr. Pope obſerves in the next Note is a kind of An⯑ſwer to what he has advanced in this, and be [400] convinced that the ‘magnificent Introduction of Achilles into the Field in the Beginning of this Book, when the Gods deſcend to Battle, and all Nature is in an Uproar, is not anſwered by any ſuitable Exploits of that Hero, or by any Atchievement worthy ſo pompous, and terrible an Apparatus! After the Gods are withdrawn, Achilles and Aeneas meet; but in the very Mo⯑ment, you expect to ſee a bloody Combat, you are entertained with a tedious Converſation.’ Take Mr. Pope's own Words.—* ‘Our Expec⯑tation is raiſed to ſee Gods and Heroes engaged, when ſuddenly it all ſinks into ſuch a Combat in which neither Party receives a Wound; and (what is more extraordinary) the Gods are made the Spectators of ſo ſmall an Action. What Occaſion was there for Thunder, Earthquakes, and deſcending Deities to introduce a Matter of ſo little Importance. Neither is it any Excuſe to ſay the Poet has given us a Piece of ancient Hiſtory, we expected to read a Poet not an Hiſtorian. In ſhort after the greateſt Preparation for Action imaginable, he ſuſpends the whole Narration, and from the Heat of a Poet, cools at once into the Simplicity of an Hiſtorian.’
I can't help aſking here, whether this be the firſt Time Homer is faulty in this Reſpect? To ac⯑quieſce in Mr. Pope's ingenious Juſtification of the [401] Interview between Glaucus and Diomed *in the 6th Book, which has occaſioned ſo much Cen⯑ſure, I fear the Speech of Neſtor to Patroclus in the 11th Book is equally blameable with the Converſation in Queſtion. Machaon is wounded: Achilles (who overlooked the Action from his Ship) ſends Patroclus to inquire whether it was he, &c. That Hero has no ſooner entered Neſtor's Tent, but he ſees Machaon bleeding, and is impatient to return to his Friend with the News; upon this Neſtor ‘detains him in his Tent ſtanding with a Speech greatly blame⯑able for being too long: he †crouds Incident upon Incident, and when he ſpeaks of himſelf he expatiates upon his own great Actions, very na⯑turally indeed to old Age, but unſeaſonably in the preſent Juncture, &c. &c. &c. The Circumſtances he mentions as they have no viſible Alluſion to the Deſign of the Speech, ſeem to be unfortunately introduced. In ſhort, I think they are not ſo va⯑luable upon any other Account, as becauſe they preſerve a Piece of ancient Hiſtory, &c.’ Perhaps the Piece of ancient Hiſtory preſerv'd here is no more valuable than that which Aeneas leaves us in the above Converſation:—but be that as it will, it is methinks ſurprizing to find Mr. Pope, after hav⯑ing ſo impartially given up the Paſſage, looking after Excuſes and Pretences to palliate this Con⯑duct [402] of his Author. I will only mention one on which moſt Streſs ſeems to be laid. ‘It may not be from the Purpoſe to obſerve (ſays our Eng⯑liſh Homer) that Neſtor might deſignedly pro⯑tract the Speech that Partoclus might himſelf behold the Diſtreſs of the Army, &c. whether this was the Intention or not, it muſt be al⯑lowed that the Stay of Patroclus was very happy for the Greeks; for by this Means he met Eury⯑pylus wounded, who confirmed him into a Cer⯑tainty, that their Affairs were deſperate with⯑out Achilles's Aid.’ Did Patroclus want to be told this then after the Embaſſy to Achilles in the 9th Book? or, after Achilles had told him, (what he could not indeed be ignorant of) when he diſ⯑patched him upon this very Meſſage, that
In ſhort, any Abſurdity may be refined away, if the preſent can, and if it may be made to appear that the Length of Neſtor's Speech, the Interview of Patroclus and Eurypylus, and the farther Delay occaſioned by the former's Stay, to cure the Wounds of the latter, which might have been effected by another Hand, were proper, and well timed in this Place.
But to return to the Deities. The magnificent Introduction of the Gods above referred to, ſo much extolled by Longinus, *ſeems to be the utmoſt Effort of Homer's prodigious Genius; and after all, perhaps we muſt aſcribe their Receſs ſo ſoon to the Poet's conſciouſneſs of the Inequality of human Nature, to ſo exalted a Subject. 'Tis certain the Sublimity of the Paſſage before us con⯑ſiſts not ſo much in the Horrours of an actual Combat, as in the dreadful Pomp of Preparation. But you will deſire to know what became of this ſuppoſed Conſciouſneſs in the next Book, when the Deities are really deſcribed ‘engaging each other.’ To which I can only ſay, that, what⯑ever induced Homer to attempt here, what he ſeems to have declined before; I am apt to think the Battle of the Gods the worſt, upon the whole, that occurs in the Poem. Mr. Pope himſelf is much of the ſame Opinion, you will naturally imagine, in the following Remark upon it. ‘†I muſt confeſs I am at a loſs how to juſtify Ho⯑mer in every point of theſe Combats with the [404] Gods: When Diana and Juno are to fight, Juno calls her an impudent Bitch, [...]; when they fight, ſhe boxes her ſoundly, and ſends her crying and trembling to Heav'n: As ſoon as ſhe comes thither, Jupiter falls a laughing at her: Indeed the reſt of the Deities ſeem to be in a merry Vein during all the Action; (tho' Mr. Pope ſhould have excepted Neptune, and Apollo, from the firſt of which Gods we have another Piece of antient Hiſtory;) Pallas beats Mars, and laughs at him; Jupiter ſees them in the ſame merry Mood; Juno when ſhe had cuffed Diana, is not more ſerious: In ſhort un⯑leſs there be Depths that I am not able to Fathom, Homer never better deſerved, than in this Place, the Cenſure paſt upon him by the Antients, that as he raiſed the Characters of his Men up to Gods, ſo he ſunk thoſe of Gods down to Men,’ or even below them.
Mr. Pope is willing to believe, however, that an Allegory may be couched under all this, and I wiſh any Body could diſcover it: In the mean Time I can't but obſerve, that 'tis great Pity the Gods and Goddeſſes that often appear ſo nobly in ſeparate Machines throughout the Iliad, ſhould make ſo mean a Figure in the preſent Battle.
I muſt requeſt your Attention to one Incident more, which Mr. Pope would fain reconcile us to, viz. the Flight of Hector in the 22d Book. I ap⯑prehend [405] that what that Commentator alledges from the *Conduct of Virgil, ‘who transferred this Paſſage to the Death of Turnus,’ and likewiſe from the Doctrine of Ariſtotle, is extremely inſuffi⯑cient for his Purpoſe. Turnus is a Character much inferiour to Aeneas, and therefore we are little ſhocked at his running away from him. But this is confeſſedly not the Caſe, the Point of mere Strength excepted, with Hector when compared to Achilles. It was, you'll ſay, that very Strength which he feared—was it not, that very Strength too, which he had frequently encountered? And if it was not neceſſary he ſhould fly; I will venture to ſay it is a Circumſtance infinitely diſagreeable to the Reader, that he does.
Nor farther is "the Suffrage of Ariſtotle" himſelf, if I underſtand it at all, ſatisfactory upon this Point. ‘The wonderful, ſays he, ought to have Place in Tragedy, but ſtill more in Epic Poetry, which proceeds in this Point even to the unreaſonable: For as in Epic Poems one ſees not the Perſons acting, ſo whatever paſſes the Bounds of Reaſon, is proper to Produce the ad⯑mirable and the marvellous. For Example, what Homer ſays of Hector purſued by Achilles, would appear ridiculous on the Stage; for the Spectators could not forbear laughing to ſee on [406] one Side the Greeks ſtanding without any Mo⯑tion, and on the other, Achilles purſuing Hector &c. &c. But all this does not appear when we read the Poem; for what is wonderful, is always agreeable, and as a Proof of it, we find that they who relate any Thing, uſually add ſomething to the Truth, that it may the better pleaſe thoſe who hear it.’
What can we infer from all this, but that the Flight of Hector round the Walls of Troy, is an Action, which, as ſuch, will much better bear being told, than repreſented? No doubt of it—but is an Action, all this while, which is unrea⯑ſonable in itſelf, therefore agreeable, becauſe it may be told with Propriety? Do we never wonder with⯑out admiring, or marvel with Diſguſt, as well as Delight? I will grant this Incident renders this Part of the Poem more aſtoniſhing, as Ariſtotle ſays in a ſubſequent Paragraph of Mr. Pope's Note; but why it is more admirable, I am quite at a loſs to conceive.
What Mr. Pope urges himſelf in Vindication of this Circumſtance, has much more Weight in it; as ‘that Hector never thought himſelf a Match for Achilles; that this Incident is pre⯑pared by Degrees, as Dacier has obſerved too; that, the mere Sight and Voice of Achilles un⯑armed, has terrified and put the whole Trojan Army into Diſorder: That Hector ſtays, not that [407] he Hopes to overcome Achilles, but becauſe, Shame, &c. forbid him to re-enter the City; that he ſtayed by the immediate Will of Hea⯑ven, irreſiſtibly bound down by Fate: That he had been reflecting on the Injuſtice of the War he maintained; that his Spirits are depreſſed by Heaven: That he flies not from Achilles as a mortal Hero, but from one whom he ſees clad in impenetrable Armour, ſeconded by Mi⯑nerva, &c. &c.’ which Conſiderations do in⯑deed amount to a Proof of the Probability of Hector's Flight, but, I think, are no Argument for the Neceſſity of it. In ſhort, as Mr. Pope himſelf ſays, ‘he don't abſolutely pretend to juſtify this Paſſage in every Point,’ I preſume I may ven⯑ture to ſay, if Hector had ſtood his Ground, we ſhould have liked the Poem better for it.
I can't think, by the way, that it is ‘a high Exaltation of Achilles, that ſo brave a Man as Hector durſt not ſtand him.’ It would methinks have redounded more to Achilles's Glory, had Hec⯑tor been repreſented as a Match for him. Indeed ‘this great Event, wherein the whole Fate of Greece and Troy was decided by the Sword of Achilles, and Hector,’ does leſs Honour to that Hero than any one Action he had been engaged in, for the laſt of the above Reaſons alledged for Hector's Flight, and beſauſe ‘he knew that Hector was to fall by his Hand.’ He was aſſured of this by Neptune, and Pallas in the 21ſt. Book.
And again by Minerva, juſt before his Engage⯑ment with Hector. *Nay he tells Hector himſelf,
And yet Mr. Pope inſerts an Obſervation in † the 24th. Book, which he informs us ought to have been made before; which is, ‘that Achilles did not know that Hector was to fall by his Hand; if he had known it, where would have been the mighty Courage, in engaging him in a ſingle Combat, in which he was ſure to conquer? The contrary of this is evident (con⯑tinues he) from the Words of Achilles to Hector juſt before the Combat.’—‘I will make no Com⯑pacts with thee, but one of us ſhall fall.’—But ſure this Declaration is very conſiſtent with the Knowledge of his future Succeſs, even tho' it had been leſs clearly aſcertained to him.
I hope theſe Remarks are ſufficient to ſupport my former Aſſertions in regard to Homer: I ſhall juſt mention a few Particulars more in my next, in order to make my Criticiſm as complete as I can, under the preſent Form, and to corroborate what has been repeatedly advanced, and then take my leave, for a Time, of this noble Author.
LETTER XI.
[409]IF you conſider the Iliad of Homer with any thing of exactneſs of Attention, you will per⯑ceive numberleſs Marks of a Genius, thoughtleſs of, or, it may be, ſuperiour to the Niceties, and Proprieties in which the Excellencies of ſecond-rate Authors wholly conſiſt. To what has been offered already for the Illuſtration of this Truth you may add, if you pleaſe, the Repetitions with which Homer ſo much abounds. I am far from aſſerting that theſe are never proper, tho' they are often, as Mr. Pope confeſſes, *viſibly abſurd. I will only point out one Place, where it is owing to a Repetition, that the very Deſign of the Author cannot eaſily be underſtood: I mean the Speech of Agamemnon in the 9th Book, wherein he propoſes to the Generals to quit the Siege, &c. ‘The Cri⯑ticks †are divided in their Opinion, Mr. Pope acquaints us, whether this Speech, which is Word for Word the ſame with that Agamemnon makes in the 2d Book, be only a Feint to try the Army, as it is there, or the real Sentiments of the General.’ Mr. Pope ſays, ‘He does not pretend to decide upon this Point’ nor is it in⯑deed of any great Conſequence, any farther than as it makes good what has been remarked; however that Agamemnon upon this Occaſion ſpoke his real Sentiments is, I think moſt probable, becauſe upon a Parallel one in the 14th Book, he propoſes the very [410] ſame Thing to the Grecian Princes, tho' in dif⯑ferent Words.
Again, it is in my Opinion more reaſonable to put the frequent Incongruities we meet with in Homer to the Account of Inadvertency, &c. than to reconcile them by forced and unnatural Con⯑ſtructions. Thus Minerva, who is always repre⯑ſented as prudently ſuppreſſing her Anger upon Jupiter's declaring himſelf for Troy, does yet in one Place *break out into as much Virulency of Language as Juno herſelf.—Thus Neptune in the ſame Book, when Juno ſollicits him to aſſiſt the Greeks, rejects ſo deſperate a Propoſal with In⯑dignation;
But in the 15th Book he talks in a quite differ⯑ent Strain, and ſeems determined to diſpute the Superiority with Jupiter himſelf.
—Thus Diomed, to give you one Inſtance more, ‘is ſeized with Fear at the very Sight †of Hector [411] in the 11th Book for which Mr. Pope gives us no other Reaſon than that’ Diomed had juſt told ‘us, that Jupiter fought againſt the Grecians, and yet in the 8th Book, when that Deity ‡perſonally interpoſes, and throws a burning Thunderbolt at the Feet of this Hero's Horſes,’ he can ſcarce prevail with himſelf to retreat.
It ſhould be remembered too, that at the very Time when Diomed is ſtruck with this Panick the Poet tells us (notwithſtanding the Favour of Ju⯑piter to Troy) the Battle was doubtful.
Nay at that Inſtant the Greeks were Victors. Ulyſſes kills Hypirochus and Hippodamus: Diomed ſlays Agaſtrophus, and even gives Hector a Blow that ſtuns him, and inſults him afterwards, &c. (ſee from Line 416 to 474.) It is needleſs to mul⯑tiply ſuch Examples.
I ſhould laſtly be inclined to aſcribe to the ſame Cauſe the frequent Unſuitableneſs of Homer's Epi⯑thets, &c. which as they are ſometimes diſtinctive and ſpecific, if I may ſo ſay, ſo are they often ge⯑neral and applied at random. Priam (as Mr. Pope [412] himſelf has *obſerv'd) is ſtiled [...] when ‘he rejects the wholſome Advice of Antenor, and complies with his Son.’—It is the [...] the godlike Polydore, whom Achilles kills in the 20th Book; and yet †this Hero is only the youngeſt Son of Priam, was for⯑bidden to fight, and famous only for the Swiftneſs of his Speed, &c.
The Mention of theſe glaring Improprieties, is abundantly ſufficient for the Purpoſe; elſe you might be directed to many more of the like Sort in almoſt any Book of the Poem: Though they may not be improper in an equal Degree.
I have now finiſhed my Remarks upon the Iliad of Homer with as much Accuracy, I hope, as was requiſite; and muſt leave it to your Conſideration, whether the common Opinion in reſpect of this Poet, founded on the Interpretations, and the Prejudices, &c. of the Commentators, be not on many Accounts an erroneous one. If you will ſuppoſe this Author to have been not only the moſt ſublime, but the moſt ſimple too of all Writers, you will, I believe, have a much more natural and ready Excuſe for many of his Ble⯑miſhes than the Shifts and Gloſſes of Interpreters [413] can ſupply you with. Indeed theſe Defects in an original Author, who was inſpired with the Spirit of Poetry even to a Degree of Enthuſiaſm (to which Inadvertency and Extravagance are eſſential) will in a great Meaſure carry their Apology with them.—I have given you my Sentiments impar⯑tially, and ſhould take a much greater Pleaſure in reviewing the Beauties of this admirable Poet than I have done in arraigning his Faults; but Mr. Pope, to whom I refer you, has illuſtrated theſe to more Advantage than I could.—The Practice of ſuc⯑ceeding Writers of many Denominations is a De⯑monſtration that we may find a great deal more in Homer to imitate than to avoid. To convince you of my high Eſteem of him, and that I mean to part in Friendſhip with him, I will finiſh with Part of that Tranſlation from Longinus, varying only, and abating an Expreſſion or two, which concludes Mr. Pope's Notes on the ſixth Book. ‘In our Deciſions on the Characters of great Men, &c. we muſt impartially confeſs, that, with all their Errors, they have more Perfections than the Nature of Man can almoſt be conceived capable of attaining.—He who commits no Faults is barely read without Cenſure; but a Genius truly great excites Admiration. In ſhort the Magnificence of a ſingle Period in one of theſe admirable Authors is, almoſt, ſufficient to atone for all their Defects: Nay farther, if any [414] one ſhould collect from Homer all the Errors that have eſcaped him, they would bear but little Proportion to the many Beauties to be met with in, almoſt, every Page of his Writings. 'Tis on this Account that Envy, through ſo many Ages hath never been able to wreſt from him the Prize of Eloquence, &c. &c. which his Merits have ſo juſtly acquired: An Acqui⯑ſition which he ſtill is, and will in all Probabi⯑lity continue poſſeſſed of,’
LETTER XII.
IN my former Letters I endeavoured to enter⯑tain you with ſome free, but, I hope, juſt Remarks upon Mr. Pope's Commentaries upon Homer. If you pleaſe we will now take a ſhort Review of that excellent Perſon's Tranſlation of the ſame incomparable Author. I muſt once more prevent your Surprize, and perhaps your In⯑dignation, by declaring that I agree with all the World in allowing this to be, in the main, the beſt Tranſlation, that our, or it may be, any Language has produced. If I think we might have had a better Tranſlation in ſome few Reſpects, I only mean that we might have had it from Mr. Pope [415] himſelf. Nay, I will go a Step further, and grant you with much Satisfaction that this celebrated Tranſlator always errs on the right Side, and even when he does not do his Reader Juſtice, never fails to do Honour to his Original: I ſhould rather ſay, to himſelf; for if Boldneſs of Figure, Force of Expreſſion, Smoothneſs and Eaſe of Numbers, and the Correſpondence of Sound with Senſe, be the great Beauties of poetical Diction, I ſhould make no Scruple, upon the whole, to prefer the Engliſh Iliad, to the Greek. But theſe very Excel⯑lencies are in ſome Sort his Errors, and what I admire in this Poem, I can't help often conſider⯑ing as blameable in the Tranſlation. In ſhort, it is the Over-poeticalneſs of this Tranſlation, if I may ſo call it, which I take to be exceptionable in many Place. And yet, as there was no Dan⯑ger of ſo naturally a warm Tranſlator's ſinking into Flatneſs, and Inſipidity, ſo one would have thought he had laid himſelf under Reſtraints ſuffi⯑cient to have prevented his ever ſoaring into the other Extreme of Rapture, and Extravagance.—There is not more Fire in any one Part of the Tranſlation, than there is good Senſe and cool Reaſoning in the following Extract from the Preface. ‘It ſhould be conſidered what Me⯑thods may afford ſome Equivalent in our Lan⯑guage for the Graces of theſe (viz. the Diction and Verſification) in the Greek. It is certain [416] no literal Tranſlation can be juſt to an excel⯑lent Original in a ſuperior Language; but it is a great Miſtake to imagine that a raſh Para⯑phraſe can make Amends for this general De⯑fect; which is no leſs in Danger to loſe the Spirit of an Ancient, by deviating into the modern Manners of Expreſſion. If there be ſometimes a Darkneſs, there is often a Light in Antiquity, which nothing better preſerves than a Verſion almoſt literal. I know no Li⯑berties one ought to take, but thoſe which are neceſſary for tranſlating the Spirit of the Ori⯑ginal, and ſupporting the poetical Style of the Tranſlation: And I will venture to ſay, there have not been more Men miſled in former Times by a ſervile dull Adherence to the Letter, than have been deluded in ours, by a chime⯑rical inſolent Hope of raiſing and improving their Author. It is not to be doubted that the Fire of the Poem is what a Tranſlator ſhould principally regard, as it is moſt likely to expire in his managing: However it is his ſafeſt Way to be content with preſerving this to his utmoſt in the whole, without endeavouring to be more than he finds his Author is, in any particular Place. 'Tis a great Secret in writing to know when to be plain, and when poetical and figu⯑rative; and it is what Homer will teach us, if we will but follow modeſtly in his Footſteps. [417] Where his Diction is bold and lofty, let us raiſe ours as high as we can; but where his is plain and humble, we ought not to be de⯑terred from imitating him by the fear of incur⯑ring the Cenſure of a mere Engliſh Critick. Nothing that belongs to Homer ſeems to have been more commonly miſtaken than the juſt Pitch of his Style; ſome of his Tranſlators ha⯑ving ſwelled into Fuſtian in a proud Confidence of the Sublime: Others ſunk into Flatneſs in a cold and timorous Notion of Simplicity.—There is a graceful, and dignified Simplicity, as well as a bald and ſordid one, &c.—'Tis one Thing to be nicked up, and another not to be dreſſed at all. Simplicity is the mien between Oſtentation and Ruſticity.’
If Mr. Pope had always conducted his Tranſla⯑tion conformably to theſe juſt Sentiments, it would have been the moſt exact, as it is now the moſt Spirited one extant: But, I believe, you will by and by be convinced that he has often modernized his Original too much, and ſacrificed the true Simplicity of the Antients in general, and the par⯑ticular Air, and Caſt of his Author, either to an Exceſs of Affection for him, and Deſire to ſet his Work in the moſt advantageous Light to the Eng⯑liſh Reader, or to an undue Fear of leſſening and injuring him thro' the Inferiority of our Lan⯑guage to the Grecian in many Reſpects. To one or [418] both of thoſe we are indebted, I preſume, for many bold Strokes of Poetry, and fine Pieces of Paint⯑ing, and Imagery, which are not ſo much Copies of, as Refinements on, the Original.
And, by the Way, it may be remarked that Mr. Pope ſhould have been more than ordinarily cautious upon this Article, as he was under an abſolute Neceſſity of ſinking ſome Peculiarities in Homer's Diction, which would not bear Tranſ⯑planting into our Tongue. Such are his compound Epithets, and Repetitions. How our Tranſlator has acquitted himſelf with regard to theſe, you will be beſt informed by conſulting himſelf. *
It is however to be obſerved in general, that every Thing characteriſtical in an Author, is, as far as may be, to be moſt religiouſly retained; and that, notwithſtanding the allowed occaſional Uſe of the Periphraſis, or Circumlocution, the Tranſ⯑poſition of Words, and the Subſtitution of one Ex⯑preſſion in the Room of another, &c. &c. by Means of which the Spirit of an Original is pre⯑ſerved without Prejudice to the literal Senſe, all imaginable Care is to be taken that theſe Liber⯑ties under the Pretence of maintaining and ſup⯑porting this Spirit, do not really over-power, and extinguiſh it. Redundancies are as unoriginal as Inſipidities, and the Spirit of an Author may be [419] as much overwhelmed in Exuberance on the one Hand, as it evaporates in Frigidity on the other.—Fire and Water are ſcarce more oppoſite than Mr. Pope's Tranſlation of the Iliad, and that of the Aeneid by Dr. Trapp; I am apt to think we ſhall often form very wrong Ideas of theſe Poems if we regulate them by theſe reſpective Tranſla⯑tions; for Mr. Pope ſeems to have exalted the true Simplicity of Homer, as "graceful and dignified" as it is, in the ſame Degree that the Doctor has debaſed the Majeſty of Virgil.
You will begin to think it high Time I ſhould make good this Charge, which I ſhall accordingly endeavour to do by pointing to a few ſelect Paſ⯑ſages out of Numbers that might be produced, in which you will plainly diſcover certain Bold⯑neſſes, and Prettyneſſes, (for you muſt gratify me in the Uſe of that Term for them) and very fre⯑quently a Mixture of both, that were taken from the Store-houſe of Mr. Pope's own Imagination, and are utterly foreign to, and deſtructive of, the plain Scope, and unaffected Spirit of his Author.
There is not perhaps in all the Iliad a more pompous Deſcription than that of Achilles arming himſelf in the 19th Book. The Compariſons, and Images, (as Mr. Pope well obſerves) ‘riſe in a noble Scale one above another; the Hero is ſet in a ſtill ſtronger Point of Light than before, till he is at laſt in a Manner covered over with [420] Glories; he is at firſt likened to the Moonlight, then to the Flames of a Beacon, then to a Comet, and laſtly to the Sun itſelf.’ But with all this Sublimity, and almoſt Enthuſiaſm, there is a Simplicity which is, I conceive, loſt in that Exaggeration of Imagery with which the Tranſ⯑lator has embeliſhed the Paſſage. The whole Deſcription, which is too long to be tranſcribed, is rather looſely paraphraſed perhaps than other⯑wiſe, but the Parts I have marked are ſo many beautiful Excreſcencies, which have no Sort of Warrant from the Letter, or moſt of them even from the Import of the Text.
[421] The following Paſſages ſeem liable to the ſame Objections with the preceding.
Mr. Pope tells us, ‘Homer has * Figures of that Boldneſs which it is impoſſible to preſerve in another Language.’ It may be ſometimes very true; but if you will be at the Pains of com⯑paring theſe Tranſcripts with the Original, I be⯑lieve you will think that the very Figure in the Greek which occaſioned that Obſervation ( [...], my Spear is Mad) hardly ranks higher than the Major Part of thoſe which I have quoted.—I will conclude this Letter with repeating one general Remark, that Mr. Pope, by improving, and em⯑belliſhing a ſimple Hint in his Author, and raiſing pompous Superſtructures upon plain Foundations, and by too frequently giving a looſe to his own Fancy, has in many Places rather poetically para⯑phraſed Homer, than tranſlated him.
LETTER XIII.
[424]AS there are certain heterogeneous, and unho⯑merical Boldneſſes in Mr. Pope's Tranſlation, if you will permit me to call them ſo, ſo there are ſeveral Prettyneſſes, as has been hinted, which, I preſume, will fall under the ſame Denominations. The following are a few of the moſt remarkable.
Theſe laſt cited Verſes put me in Mind of Mr. Pope's Deſcriptions of the Morning throughout this Tranſlation, which (one only excepted, ſee Ver. 131. B. 23.) are much more elegant and pictureſque than their Counterparts in the Original.
The Affectation of Poetry in all theſe Places has diffuſed an Air over Mr. Pope's Tranſlation quite different from the neat, but generally un⯑ornamented Style of his Author, to which the in⯑expreſſible ſimplex munditiis of Horace may perti⯑nently enough be applied. It is owing to this that we meet with ſuch figurative Expreſſions as theſe,
To which we may ſubjoin a Multitude of others ſimilar to them throughout the Engliſh Iliad— [427] as—briſtling Lances—the ſteely Circle—dark Show'rs of Jav'lins—the Tide of Combat—the Stream of Fight—the Tide of War—the wooden Tempeſt—the rocky Show'r—the living Flame, or Fire—the Tide of Trojans—Life's purple Tide—&c. &c. &c. in the free, and unlimited Uſe of which the Tranſlation is, I apprehend, little juſti⯑fied by the Original.
I have often thought it was with the ſame View to Ornament, &c. &c. that Mr. Pope wrote his Tranſlation in Rhime. However what Advantages were hereby gained we ſhall ſee preſently; but it is certain in the mean time that by the Uſe of it, the Tranſlation becomes abſolutely modern, and in its very Form unlike the Original. Mr. Dryden ſays in his Dedication prefixed to his Tranſlation of the Aeneid, ‘that he who can write well in Rhime, may write better in blank Verſe;’ and that ‘Rhime is a Conſtraint even to the beſt Po⯑ets, and thoſe who make it with moſt Eaſe; that what it adds to Sweetneſs, it takes away from Senſe; and that it often makes us ſwerve from an Author's Meaning.’—I wiſh, by the by, Mr. Dryden had not aſſerted one Way and tranſlated another.—It is plain the Superfluities complained of in Mr. Pope are in a great Meaſure to be im⯑puted to this Method of Tranſlation.
I believe you have had ſome Inſtances of this already, but the following are notorious ones.
I have purpoſely ſelected theſe Verſes becauſe, excepting the mark'd Redundancies which the Rhime required, they are as cloſe a Tranſlation, as any in the whole Performance. Mr. Pope no doubt was ſenſible of this Inconvenience naturally inſeparable from Rhime; but he ſuppoſed probably, the Ad⯑vantage gained thereby in point of Smoothneſs, and Harmony would make ſufficient Amends for it. Of all Things he would not have his Author thought unpoetical, though there are certainly many Paſſages in him, which, as Mr. Pope himſelf occaſionally acknowledges, are ‘not made to [429] ſhine in Poetry.’ It would be tedious to pick out all theſe, and therefore I will only, for Illuſtra⯑tion's Sake, tranſcribe a very remarkable one, in which a moſt ſimple, unadorned Narration of Homer conſiſting of a Liſt of proper Names, and thoſe even without Epithets for the far greater Part, is, by Virtue of Mr. Pope's Adjuncts, Circumlocu⯑tions, and Rhimes, transformed into as poetical and entertaining a Deſcription as moſt in the Iliad.
[430] This whole Paſſage, which makes ſo pretty a Figure in Mr. Pope's Hands, if literally (I mean fairly) tranſlated, and that too in blank Verſe, would undoubtedly be very flat and ſpiritleſs.
are more juſt Tranſlations than any two Lines of the whole Number though they have neither Fire, nor Fancy in them. In ſuch Places as theſe Rhime may among other Expedients help to ſave the poetical Character of an Author by giving a ſeeming Equivalent for Spirit in Sound.—But why muſt a Tranſlation be beautiful and poetical when the Original is not ſo?—It is the Buſineſs of a Tran⯑ſlator to give us the whole of an Author, not at all Events to make the beſt of him.—I will venture to ſay that had Mr. Pope obliged the World with a blank Verſe Tranſlation of Homer, at the ſame Time that he would have more effectually preſerved the Air, he would have deviated leſs from the Senſe of his Author; and that his Verſion upon the whole would have been as poetical, as animated, and even as harmonious as the preſent. Dr. Trapp obſerves, I think, very juſtly in his Preface to the Aeneid, that ‘blank Verſe is not only more majeſtic &c. but more muſical and harmonious than Rhime: It has, ſays he, more Rhime in it according to the ancient and true Senſe of the Word, than [431] Rhime itſelf as it is now uſed. For, in its ori⯑ginal Signification, it conſiſts not in the tinkling of Vowels and Conſonants, but in the metrical Diſpoſition of Words and Syllables, and the proper Cadence of Numbers; which is more agreeable to the Ear, without the jingling of like Endings than with it.’—After all, the Meaſure in blank Verſe does really and ſpecifi⯑cally diſtinguiſh it from mere Proſe; and if ſo, Rhime is not wanted for this Purpoſe. Nor can it be pretended that the ſtrong Colours of Poetry, the Beauties of Deſcription, Figures, Images, &c. &c. are capable of being diſplayed to more Advantage in Rhime, than in blank Verſe.—Indeed theſe are not peculiar even to Poetry; they are independent on Metre, and de⯑rive not Energy or Strength, but Gracefulneſs only and Dignity from Numbers.—They are fitter for Verſe than Proſe, but not more eſſential to it.—Thus the bold Figures, Similies, and Thoughts, &c. of Homer would be of the ſame intrinſic Va⯑lue out of Meaſure, as in it;—as the Holy Scrip⯑tures, by the way, though literally tranſlated in plain Proſe, are in numberleſs Inſtances poetical, though they are by no means a Poem.—It is not for the ſake of Luſtre, but Order, that Diamonds and Pearls are ranged upon a String.—But to re⯑turn to Mr. Pope.—Whatever Credit his Tranſla⯑tion may have done the Original by heightening [432] and improving it in ſome Reſpects, by Means of Rhime (and thereby ſkreening ſometimes a Sim⯑plicity or perhaps a Flatneſs, and Frigidity of Diction which Homer only was anſwerable for) 'tis as true too that it ſometimes by Reaſon only of the Rhime falls ſhort of it, and is leſs beautiful and ſignificant in itſelf. Mr. Pope is very happy in his Imitations of thoſe Paſſages where Homer "applies the Sound to the Senſe" (ſee particularly B. i. Ver. 451. &c. B. x. Ver. 444. &c. B. xiii. Ver. 191. &c. B. xiii. Ver. 1005.) but he would have ſucceeded ſtill more in theſe Places, I preſume, had he been uncumbered with the Shackles of Rhime. How much better and ſtronger would the following Lines have appeared without Rhimes than with them.
In ſpite of the Roughneſs and Unmuſicalneſs of this excellent Deſcription there is to me a certain Evenneſs, and an Harmony in the Tone of the [433] Rhimes which alone renders it inferior to the Ori⯑ginal itſelf.—To conclude, I will upon the Strength of theſe Obſervations put two Queſtions to you, which you may determine at your Leiſure; whether a blank Verſe Tranſlation is not like to be more faithful to its Original, than one in Rhime? and whether Mr. Pope would not have been a better Tranſlator, if he had not been ſo good a Poet?
LETTER XIV.
AFTER reading my laſt, you will not won⯑der to hear me wiſhing Rhimes were ut⯑terly baniſhed from Great Poetry; by which the Critics underſtand the Epopee, and the Drama. How far they may be requiſite, or even beautiful in Lyric, Elegiac, Paſtoral, &c. or eſpecially Di⯑dactic Poetry I ſhall not enquire; but 'tis certain they are in general rather Obſtructions than Helps towards the great Purpoſes of firing the Heart, and moving the Paſſions.—You need only read over your Milton, and the beſt Tragedies of Shake⯑ſpeare to be convinced of this.—And if I would have ev'ry Firſt-Rate, Original Poem written in blank Verſe for the Sake of the Ear, as well as the Heart, I muſt ſtill more ſtrongly recommend the Uſe of the ſame to Tranſlations.—Rhime is ſo abhorrent from the Air and Genius of the antient Poetry, that nothing but the abſolute Neceſſity of [434] it can, I think, render it diſpenſable in an Eng⯑liſh Verſion.—Now convenient it may ſometimes be, but it is never neceſſary—Whatever are the Imperfections, and Defects of our Language, they are, it is my Opinion, ſuch, as Rhime, tho' it may diſguiſe, can never ſupply. But I would ex⯑clude Hypocriſy from Poetry, as well as Religion, and confeſs for my own Part, that I had much rather ſee a Tranſlation in ſome Places inferior to its Original, than unlike it in all. If upon the whole not only the very Caſt, but the Senſe and Spirit of an Author may be better preſerved in blank Verſe than Rhime, every reaſonable Critic will make Allowances for the Poverty, and natu⯑ral Inferiority of our Mother Tongue. Mr. Pitt's Tranſlation of the Aeneid is a very noble one; tho' I cannot conceive what induced him to give it us in Rhime, unleſs it was the Appre⯑henſion of the Inequality of our Language to the Diction of his Author where it is moſt plain, and unpoetical. Indeed Purity, and Man⯑lineſs are the chief Characteriſtics of Virgil, as Fire, and Vivacity are thoſe of Homer; for which Reaſon I ſhould imagine the latter a more attemptable Author, than the former, if Mr. Pope had not precluded every Under⯑taking of this Nature, even tho' he wrote in Rhime. For bold Figures, ſtrong Paintings, and beauti⯑ful Colourings may be ransfuſed from one Lan⯑guage [435] to another: but Purity, Simplicity, and Elegance, tho' they are the ſame things in all Tongues, are not equally ſtriking in them all.—However, no Tranſlation can go farther than the Genius of our Language will admit; and even with regard to Virgil, it will go, I am inclined to believe, far enough to convey a ſtrong Idea of this noble Original in all its Parts. It will go farther at leaſt without Rhime, than with it. Dr. Trapp indeed, than whom no Body better under⯑ſtood his Author, by too ſuperſtitious an Adherence to the Letter, and particularly a fruitleſs and per⯑petual Endeavour to retain the Brevity of Virgil, is cold and languid upon numberleſs Occaſions; and has thereby perhaps contributed more to the Diſreputation of blank Verſe, than any other Wri⯑ter. He was offended, and not without Reaſon, with the Licentiouſneſs of Mr. Dryden's Tranſla⯑tion; but his ſqueamiſhneſs has carried him into the other Extreme; for if Mr. Dryden runs away from Virgil, the Doctor is tied to him.—There is, by the by, this obſervable Difference, between Mr. Dryden's Deviations from Virgil, and Mr. Pope's from Homer, that thoſe of the latter are always uniform, graceful, and beautiful, and if they are not Homer's Thoughts are at leaſt worthy of him; whereas Mr. Dryden is apt to dwindle into a kind of Puerility, which was but too na⯑tural to him, that is altogether unſuitable to the [136] Gravity and Dignity of Virgil.—Between this Tranſlator then and Dr. Trapp, there lay a middle Way, which Mr. Pitt has judiciouſly taken, and religiouſly purſued, to the immortal Glory of Vir⯑gil, to his own infinite Honour, and the Credit of our Language. Notwithſtanding all this, I think, he has left Room for a Tranſlation of another Kind (as Dr. Trapp ſays of his, when compared with Mr. Dryden's) by writing in Rhime.—I attempted ſome time ago, for my own Amuſement, to tranſ⯑late ſome of the Speeches in the firſt Book of the Aeneid into blank Verſe, from a Notion that Virgil ‘if he had been born in England, and in this preſent Age’ (as Mr. Dryden expreſſes himſelf) would have ſpoken ſomething like ſuch Engliſh as I flattered myſelf I could ſpeak for him.—I have ventured to ſend you a few Specimens, which for your Satisfaction I could wiſh you diligently, and impartially to compare with the ſeveral Tranſla⯑ions, and with the Original itſelf.
You have in theſe few Paſſages in the Original, a Sample ſufficient to regulate your Idea of Virgil's Style in general by; which, as Mr. Dryden juſtly remarks, is eminent for its ‘Clearneſs, it Purity, its Eaſineſs, and its Magnificence; to which we muſt add no doubt, that which can rarely be transferred with any tolerable Grace into our Language, viz. its Brevity.’—How far theſe Tranſlations do juſtice to the Original, as far as may be, in regard to all theſe Particulars, or whe⯑ther equal Juſtice can poſſibly be done to it by Rhime from the very Nature of it, I now leave it with you to judge, and am,
While yearly as the ſolemn, &c.—Two milk-white Kittens, &c.] A much genteeler Sacrifice, and conſequently, more grateful to the Dei⯑ties, than thoſe of Oxen, &c. offered by the aukward and naſty Heroes of Homer and Virgil.—For Proof of this, we might tranſcribe the Account of the Sacrifice in the firſt Book of the Iliad, but forbear to do it, in pure Tenderneſs to polite Ears.—We will venture, however, to ſubjoin Mr. Pope's Tranſlation, who was a very clean Writer, and upon this, as well as many other Occaſions, has greatly ſoftened the Indelicacy of the Original.
What groſs Ideas does this Deſcription convey? Our Author wiſely thought it ſufficient to inform us, that his Heroine yearly offered a Kitten to the Gods, without officiouſly entering into the Particulars of the Diſſection, or of the throwing the Fat in the Fire, &c.—Such is his Regard to Decency.
O! for his Numbers, &c.] Both Homer and Virgil (as our Author here, in Conformity to their Practice) renew their Invo⯑cation of the Muſe, at particular Periods, and proper Intervals of their Poems.
Pleas'd Venus ſaw, &c.] The Author, in this Paſſage, had his Eye upon Virgil. See Aeneid, B. i. L. 492, &c.
† And firſt they pour—To mighty Jove, &c.] This is a polite Improvement of the following Libation in Virgil.
Now warm with Hopes, &c.] With this the Reader is deſired to compare the following Account of Virgil.
Whelm'd and amaz'd, &c.] Thus Virgil deſcribes the unfor⯑tunate Situation of Menaetes.
"Give me at leaſt, &c.] Thus Mneſtheus in Virgil.
So likewiſe Ulyſſes in Homer ſucceeds upon his Application to Pallas.
She ſaid; and light up-ſprang, &c.] This Gentleman makes as brave a Figure here as Epeus in Homer, or Dares in Virgil.
Quick to his Aid, &c.] We have here a more lively Picture of this unfortunate Combatant, than the original one of Dares or of Euryalus.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
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