UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 ^ u^Yrrr 
 
 ESSAYS: 
 
 o N 
 POETRY AND MUSIC, 
 
 AS THEY AFFECT THE MIND5 
 O N 
 
 LAUGHTER, AND LUDICROUS COMPOSITION,- 
 
 ON THE 
 UTILITY OF CLASSICAL LEARNING. 
 
 BY JAMES BE AT TIE, LL. D. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY AND LOGIC IN THE 
 MARISCHAL COLLEGE AND UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 Printed for Edward and Charles Dilly, in London 
 and William Creech, Ejiinburgh. 
 
 M.DCC.LXXVni, 
 
 6 3 5 2 - 
 
 4 4
 
 j\ CONTENTS. 
 
 :^ An Essay on Poetry and Music, 
 
 , AS THEY AFFECT THE MIND. 
 
 Pag. 
 ^ PARTI. 
 
 "^ Poetry considered with re- 
 spect TO ITS Matter or Sub- 
 ject, - - - 7 
 
 t Chapter T. 
 
 ^ Of the end of Poetical Compoiition, 8 
 
 ^' 
 
 Chap. II. 
 Of the Standard of Poetical invention, 29 
 
 C H a p. III. 
 Poetry exhibits a fyftem of nature forne- 
 what difTerent from the reality of 
 things, - - 46 
 
 Chap. IV. 
 The fubjecfl continued. Of Poetical cha- 
 
 niclers, - - yo 
 
 a 2 Chap.
 
 IV CONTENTS, 
 
 Pag. 
 C H A p. V. 
 
 Further Illuflrations. Of Poetical ar- 
 rangement, - - g^ 
 
 Chap. VI. 
 Remarks on Mufic. 
 
 Se(5l. I, Of Imitation, Is Miiftc an Imi" 
 
 tatinje Art ? - 122 
 
 Sedl. 2. Hoiv are the pleafures ive derive 
 from Muftc to he accounted 
 for? - 147 
 
 Sedl. 3. Conjedures on fome peculiarities 
 
 of National Ml fie ^ - 176 
 
 Chap. VII. 
 Of Sympathy, - 194 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Of the Language of Poetry, 206 
 
 Chap. I. 
 Of Poetical Language, confidered as fig- 
 nificant, - - 207 
 
 Sedl. I. An idea of Natural Language y 208 
 Se^. 2. Natural Language is improved in 
 Poetry^ by the tfe of Poetical 
 Words ^ - 229 
 
 Sea.
 
 CONTENTS, Y 
 
 . . P^g- 
 
 Sedl. 3. Natural Language is improved 
 
 in Poetry^ by means of Tropes 
 
 and FigureSy - 25 1 
 
 Chap. II. 
 Of Poetical Language, confidered with 
 refpedl to its Sound, - 293 
 
 ******** 
 
 An Essay on Laughter, and 
 Ludicrous Composition. 
 
 Chap. I. 
 Introdudtion. The fubjedl propofed. 
 
 Opinions of Philofophers : 1. A- 
 
 riftotle — II. Hobbes III. Hut- 
 
 chefon IV. Akenfide, - 321 
 
 Chap. II. 
 Laughter feems to arife from the view 
 of things incongruous united in the 
 fame affemblage ; I. by juxta-poiition ; 
 II. as caufe and efFedl ; III. by com- 
 parifon founded on fimiUtude ; or, 
 IV. united fo as to exhibit an oppo- 
 iition of meannefs and dignity, 344 
 
 C H A P.
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 Pag. 
 C li A p. III. 
 Limitations of the preceding dodrine. 
 Incongruity not Ludicrous, I. when 
 cuftomary and common ; nor, II. 
 when it excites any powerful emotion 
 in the beholder, as, — Moral Difap- 
 probation, — Indignation or Difguft, 
 — Pity, or — Fear ; III. Influence of 
 Good-Breeding upon Laughter ; IV. 
 Of Similitudes, as connedled v^ith this 
 fubjedt; V. Recapitulation, - 416 
 
 Chap. IV. 
 An attempt to account for the fuperio- 
 rity of the Moderns in Ludicrous Wri- 
 ting, - - 456 
 
 ^- * ^{j * * * 
 
 Remarks on the utility of 
 Classical Learning, - 487
 
 \
 
 E R R A T 
 
 Pag. lin. 
 
 269. 30. read fine gold. 
 375* 25 • ^^^^ ^^ phrafeology 
 426. 25. read efFe(fled 
 439. lo./or (?) infert (:) 
 526. 25. r^<3^ dialedls
 
 «^^ '-^ t^S t^ V^ v^ 1^9 '•^»«-<:5>i t^ t^5 «<5>»t^9 <.^>> '.^1 1^> t<:?n 
 
 A N 
 
 ESSAY 
 
 O N 
 
 P O E T R Y 
 
 AND 
 
 M US I C, 
 
 AS THEY AFFECT THE MIND. 
 
 t^l V^% b^% t^^ t.^% t^»» V^^ t^l t^^ V^^ t^% «,^» V^l l^» 1^1 t^l t^>^.
 
 THE following Eflays, (which 
 were read in a private literary fociety 
 many years ago), having been feen 
 and approved of by fome learned 
 perfons in England, are now publifh- 
 ed at their delire. In writing them 
 out for the prefs, confiderable amend- 
 ments were made, and new obfer- 
 vations added ; and hence one or 
 two flight anachronifms have arifen, 
 which, as they aiFe6l not the fenfe, 
 it was not thought neceffary to guard 
 again ft.
 
 A N 
 
 ESSAY 
 
 O N 
 
 POETRY 
 
 AND 
 
 MUSIC, 
 
 AS THEY AFFECT THE MINI>. 
 
 Written in the year 1762* 
 
 TH E rules of every ufeful art may 
 be divided into two kinds. S01116 
 are necelTary to the accomplifliment 
 of the end propofed by the artiit, 
 and are therefore denominated EfTential 
 Rules J while others, called Ornamental or 
 Mechanical, have no better foundation than 
 the pradlice of fome great performer, whom 
 it has become the faihion to imitate. The 
 latter are to be learned from the communi- 
 cations of the artift, or by obferving his 
 A 2 work j
 
 4 ONPOETRY 
 
 work : tlie former may be invefligated up- 
 on the principles of reafon and philofophy. 
 
 Thefe two clafTes of rules, however differ- 
 ent, have often been confounded by critical 
 writers, without any material injury to art, 
 or any great inconvenience, either to the art- 
 ift or to his difciple. For frequently it hap- 
 pens, that fafhion and philofophy coin- 
 cide ; and that an artift gives the law in his 
 profefTion, whofe principles are as juft as his 
 performance is excellent. Such has been the 
 fate of Poetry in particular. Homer, whom 
 we confider as the founder of this art, be- 
 caufe we have none more ancient to refer 
 to, appears, in the ftrudlure of his two poems, 
 to have proceeded upon a view of things e- 
 qually comprehenfive and rational : nor had 
 Ariftotle, in laying down the philofophy of 
 the art, any thing more to do, than to trace 
 out the principles of his contrivance. What 
 the great critic has left on this fubjed:, proves 
 Homer to have been no lefs admirable as a 
 philofopher than as a poet ; polTeiled not on - 
 ly of unbounded imagination, and all the 
 powers of language, but alfo of a moil exa(fl 
 judgement, which could at once propofe a 
 noble end, and devife the very beft means of 
 attaining it. 
 
 An art, thus founded on reafon, could not 
 fail to be durable. The propriety of the 
 Homeric mode of invention has been ac- 
 knowledged by the learned in all ages ; eve- 
 ry real improvement which particular branch- 
 es
 
 A N D M U S I C. ^ 
 
 ■es of the art may have received fince his 
 time, has been condudted upon his princi- 
 ples ; and poets, who never heard of his 
 name, have, merely by their own good fenfe, 
 been prompted to tread the path, which he, 
 guided by the fame internal monitor, had 
 trod before them. And hence, notwithfland- 
 ing its apparent licentioufhefs, true Poetry 
 is a thing perfectly rational and regular ; and 
 nothing can be more ftricflly philofbpliical, 
 than that part of criticifm may and ought to 
 be, which unfolds the general characters that 
 diftinguilh it from other kinds of compofi- 
 tion. 
 
 Whether the following difcourfe will in 
 any degree juftify this lad remark, is fubmit- 
 ted to the reader. It afpires to little other 
 praife, than that of plain language and fa- 
 miliar illuftration ; difclaiming all paradoxi- 
 cal opinions and refined theories, which are 
 indeed Ihowy in the appearance, and not of 
 difficult invention, but have no tendency 
 to diffufe knowledge, or enlighten the hu- 
 man mind ; and which, in matters of tafte 
 that have been can vailed by mankind thefe 
 two thoufand years, would fecm to be pe- 
 culiarly incongruous. 
 
 The train of thought that led me into 
 this inquiry was fuggefled by a converfation 
 many years ago, in which I had taken the 
 freedom to offer an opinion different from 
 what was maintained by the company, but 
 warranted, as I then thought, and iliil think, 
 
 by
 
 € O N P O E T R Y, See. 
 
 by the greateft authorities and the beft rea* 
 fons. It was pleaded againft me, that tafte 
 is capricious, and criticifm variable ; and 
 that the rules of Ariftotle's Poetics, being 
 founded in the practice of Sophocles and 
 Homer, ought not to be applied to the poems 
 of other ages and nations. I admitted the 
 plea, as far as thefe rules are local and tem- 
 porary; but aiTerted, that many of them, 
 being founded in nature, were indifpen-* 
 fable, and could not be violated without 
 fuch impropriety, as, though overlooked by 
 fbme, would always be ofFenfive to the great- 
 er part of readers, and obftrudl the general 
 end of poetical compofition : and that it 
 would be no lefs abfurd, for a poet to violate 
 the ejjential rules of his art, and juftify him- 
 felf by an appeal from the tribunal of A- 
 riftotle, than for a mechanic to conftru(5t 
 an engine on principles inconfiftent with the 
 laws of motion, and excufe himfelf by dif* 
 claiming the authority of Sir Ifaac Newton, 
 
 The characflers that diftinguifh poetry from 
 other w^orks of literature, belong either to 
 the Subject, or to the Language : fo that 
 this difcourfe naturally refolves itfelf inta 
 
 two parts. What we have to fay on Mu- 
 
 fic will be found to belong to the firft. 
 
 PART
 
 PART I. 
 
 Poetry considered with 
 
 RESPECT TO ITS MaTTER 
 
 OR Subject. 
 
 WHEN we afErm, that every art or 
 contrivance which has a meaning 
 muft have an end, we only repeat 
 an identical propofition : and when we fay, 
 that the efTential or indifpenfable rules of an 
 art are thofe that direcl to the accompliih- 
 nient of the end propofed by the artift, we 
 repeat a definition vvhereof it would be cap- 
 tious to controvert the propriety. And there-- 
 fore, before we can determine any thing in 
 Regard to the elfential rules of this art, we 
 muft form an idea of its End or Destika-^ 
 
 TION. 
 
 CHAP^
 
 ON POETRY Parti. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Of the end of Poetical Compofj- 
 tion. 
 
 THat one end of Poetry, in its firfl in- 
 ftitution, and in every period of its pro- 
 grefs, muft have been, to give pleasure, 
 will hardly admit of any doubt. If men 
 firft employed it to exprefs their adoration of 
 fuperior and invifible beings, their gratitude 
 to the benefactors of mankind, their admi- 
 ration of moral, intelle(51:ual, or corporeal ex- 
 cellence, or, in general, their love of what 
 was agreeable in their own fpecies, or in o- 
 ther parts of Nature ; they muft be fuppo- 
 fed to have endeavoured to make their poe- 
 try plcafing ; bccaufe, otherwife, it would 
 have been unfuitable to the occafion that 
 gave it birth, and to the fentiments it was 
 intended to enliven. Or if, with Horace, 
 we were to believe, that it was firft ufed as 
 a vehicle to convey into favage minds the 
 principles of government and civility * ; ftill 
 
 we 
 
 * The honour of civilizing mankind, is by the poets 
 afcribed to poetry, {Hor. Jr. Poet. verf. 391.) ; — by the 
 orator, to oratory, {Cicercy de Orat. lib. i. §33.); — 
 gnd by others to philofophy, (Cicero, de Orat. lib. i.
 
 Ch. I. A N D M U S I C. 9 
 
 we muft allow, that one chief thing attended 
 to in its compofition mufl have been, to give 
 it charms fufficient to engage the ear and cap- 
 tivate the heart of an untiiinking audience. 
 In latter times, the true poet, though in 
 chufing materials he never lofb fight of utility, 
 yet in giving them form, (and it is the form 
 chiefly that diftinguiflies poetry from other 
 writings), has always made the entertain- 
 ment of mankind his principal concern. In- 
 deed, we cannot conceive, that, independ- 
 ently on this confideration, men would ever 
 have applied themfelves to arts fo little ne- 
 ceflary to life, and withal fo difficult, as 
 mulic, painting, and poetry. Certain it is, 
 that a poem, containing the mod important 
 truths, would meet with a cold reception, 
 if deflitute of thofe graces of found, inven- 
 tion, and language, whereof the fole end 
 and aim is, to give pleafure. 
 
 But is it not the end of this art, to injlrucfy 
 as well as to pleafe ? Verfes, that give plea- 
 fure only, without profit, — what are they 
 but chiming trifles ? And if a poem v/ere 
 to pleafe, and at the fame time, inflead of 
 improving, to corrupt the mind, w^ould it 
 not deferve to be confidered as a poifon ren- 
 
 § 36. 37.-, and Tnfc. ^lejl. lib. 5. § 5.). It is pro- 
 bably a gradual thing, the efFeci of many co-operating 
 caufes J and proceeding rather from favourable accidents, 
 or the fpecial appointment of Heaven, than from the art 
 and contrivance of men. ' 
 
 Vol. II. B dered
 
 10 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 dered doubly dangerous and detcftable by its 
 alluring qualities? — All this is true: and 
 yet pleafure is undoubtedly the immediate 
 aim of all thofe artifices by which poetry is 
 diftinguifhed from other compofitions, — of 
 the harmony, the rhythm, the ornamented 
 language, the compadl and diverfified fable : 
 for 1 believe it will be allowed, that a plain 
 treatife, deftitute of all thefe beauties, might 
 be made to convey more inftrudlion than a- 
 ny poem in the world. As writing is more 
 excellent than painting, and fpeech than mu- 
 fic, on account of its fuperior ufefulnefs ; fo 
 a difcourfe, containing profitable information 
 even in a rude ftyle, may be more excellent, 
 becaufe more ufeful, than any thing in Ho- 
 mer or Virgil : but fuch a difcourfe par- 
 takes no more of the nature of poetry, than 
 language does of melody, or a manufcript of 
 a pi6lure ; whereas an agreeable piece of 
 writing may be poetical, though it yield little 
 or no inflrudlion. To infl;ru(?l, is an end 
 common to all good writing, to all poetry, 
 all hiftory, all found philofbphy. But of 
 thefe lad the principal end is to inflrudl ; 
 and if this fmgle end be accomplifhed, the 
 philofopher and the hiftorian will be allowed 
 to have acquitted themfelves well : but the 
 poet mufl do a great deal for the fake of 
 pleafure only ; and if he fail to pleafe, he 
 may indeed deferve praife on other accounts, 
 
 but as a poet he has done nothing. But 
 
 do not hiftorians and philofophers, as well as 
 
 poets,
 
 Ch. r. A N D M U S I C. n 
 
 poets, make it their fludy to pleafe their read- 
 ers ? They generally do : but the former 
 pleafe, that they may inftrucSt; the latter 
 inftrudl, that they may the more effecflual- 
 ly pleafe. Pleafing, though uninftruclive, 
 poetry may gratify a light mind ; and what 
 tends even to corrupt the heart may gra- 
 tify profligates : but the true poet addrelTes 
 his work, not to the giddy, nor to the worth- 
 lefs, nor to any party, but to mankind ; and, 
 if he means to pleafe the general tafle, mufl 
 often employ inflru(5lion as one of the arts 
 that minifter to this kind of pleafure. 
 
 The neceflity of this arifes from a circum- 
 flance in human nature, which is to man 
 (as Erafmus in Pope's opinion was to the 
 priefthood) *' at once his glory and his 
 fliame ;" namely, that the human mind, un- 
 lefs when debafed by pailion or prejudice, 
 never fails to take the fide of truth and vir- 
 tue : — a fad refledlion, when it leads us to 
 confider the debafing influence of paflion and 
 prejudice ; but a mofl comfortable one, when 
 it diredls our view to the original dignity 
 and rectitude of the human foul. To favour 
 virtue, and fpeak truth, and take pleafure 
 in thofe who do fo, is natural to man ; to 
 acl otherwife, requires an effort, does vio- 
 lence to nature, and always implies feme evil 
 purpofe in the agent. The firfl, like pro- 
 grelTive motion, is eafy and graceful; the 
 laft is unfeemly and difficult, like v/a'k- 
 ing fide-ways, or backwards. The one is 
 B 2 {o
 
 12 
 
 ON POETRY Part I. 
 
 fo common, that it is little attended to, and 
 when it becomes the objecft of attention, is 
 always confidered as an energy fuitable to 
 moral and rational nature : the other has a 
 flrangenefs in it, that provokes at once our 
 furprife and difapprobation. And hence the 
 virtuous chara6ler of the ancient chorus * 
 was reconcileable, not only to probability, 
 but to real matter of fa6l. The drama- 
 tic poets of Greece rightly judged, that great 
 perfons, like thofe who appear in tragedy, 
 engaged in any great action, are never with- 
 out attendants or fpecfhators, or thofe at 
 leaft who obferve their conducl, and make 
 remarks upon it. And therefore, together 
 with the perlbns principally concerned, they 
 always introduced attendants or fpedlators 
 
 * Acloris partes chorus, ofHciumque virile 
 
 Defendat 
 
 Ille bonis faveatque, et conlilietur amice, 
 Et regat iratos, et amet pacare tumentes ; 
 Ille clapes laudet menfe brevis ; ille falubrem 
 Juftitiam, Icgefque, et apertis otia portis ; 
 Ille tegat commiflli, Deofque precetur, et oret, 
 Ut redeat miferis, abeat fortuna fuperbis. 
 
 Hor. Jr. Poet. verf. 195. 
 
 *' Let the chorus, like the player, fupport a charac- 
 er, and let it adt a manly part. Let it favour the 
 good, and give friendly counl'el, and reflrain the angry, 
 and love to compole the fwellings of paffion. Let it 
 celebrate the prailes of temperance, of falutary ju- 
 ftice, of law, and of peace, with open gates : let it 
 be faithful to its truft, and fupplicate the Gods, and 
 pray, that fortune may return to the afflicted, and 
 forfake the haughty," 
 
 on
 
 Ch. I. AND MUSIC. i^ 
 
 on the llage, who, by the mouth of one of 
 their number, joined occafionally in the dia- 
 logue, and were called the Chorus. That 
 this artifice, though perhaps it might not 
 fuit the modern drama, had a happy effect 
 in beautifying the poetry, illuftrating the 
 morality, and heightening the probability, 
 of the ancient, is a point, which in my opi- 
 nion admits of fufHcient proof, and has in 
 fa6l been fully proved by Mr Mafon, in his 
 Letters, and admirably exemplified in his 
 Elfrida and Caraclacus ; two poems that do 
 honour to the Englilh tongue, and to mo- 
 dern genius. But I do not now enter into 
 any controverfy on the fubjecl : I fpeak of 
 it with a view only to obferve, that the pro- 
 priety of the character afTigned to the chorus 
 is founded on that moral propenfity above 
 mentioned. For to introduce a company of 
 unprejudiced perfons, even of the vulgar, 
 wimelfmg a great event, and yet not pitying 
 the unfortunate, nor exclaiming againfl ty- 
 ranny and injuflice, nor rejoicing when the 
 good are fuccefsful, nor wiihing well to the 
 worthy, would be to feign what feldom or 
 never happens in real life ; and what, there- 
 fore, in the improved ftate of things that 
 poetry imitates, muft never be fuppofed to 
 
 happen. Sentiments that betniy a hard 
 
 heart, a depraved underitanding, unwar- 
 rantable pride, or any other moral or intel- 
 lectual perverlity, never fail to give offence, 
 except where they appear to be introduced
 
 H 
 
 ON POETRY Part L 
 
 as examples for our improvement. Poetry, 
 therefore, that is uninftrudlive, or immoral, 
 cannot pleafe thofe who retain any moral fen- 
 libility, or nprightnefs of judgement ; and 
 mud confequently difpleafe the greater part 
 of any regular fociety of rational creatures. 
 Great wickednefs and great genius may have 
 been united in the fame perlon; but it may 
 be doubted, vs^hether corruption of heart and 
 delicacy of tafte be at all compatible. 
 
 Whenever a writer forgets himfelf fo far, 
 as to give us ground to fufpe<ft him even of 
 momentary impiety or hardheartednefs, we 
 charge him in the fame breath with want of 
 confcience and want of tafte ; the former be- 
 ing generally, as well as juftly, fuppofed to 
 comprehend the latter. Cowley was an ex- 
 cellent perfon, and a very witty poet : — but 
 where is the man who would not be afhamed 
 to acknowledge himfelf pleafed with that 
 claufe in the following quotation, which im- 
 plies, that the author, puffed up with an idle 
 conceit of the importance of literary renown, 
 was difpofed for a moment to look down 
 with equal contempt upon the brutes and 
 the common people ! 
 
 What fliall 1 do, to be for ever known. 
 And make the age to come my own ? 
 I Ihall like beads or common people die, 
 Unlefs you write my elegy *. 
 
 Virgil, 
 
 * The learned and amiable Dr Hurd has omitted thefe 
 two hues in his late edition of Cowley's poems, I wifh 
 
 fome
 
 Ch. I. AND MUSIC. 15 
 
 Virgil, defcribing a plague among the beafls, 
 gives the following picture, which has eve- 
 ry excellence that can belong to defcriptive 
 poetry ; and of which Scaliger, with a noble 
 enthufiafm, declares, that he would rather 
 be the author, than firft favourite to Cyrus 
 or Crefus : 
 
 Ecce autem duro fumans fub vomere taurus 
 Concidit, et mixtum fpumis vomit ore cruorem, 
 Extremofque ciet gemitus. It triflis arator, 
 Mserentem abjungens fraterna morte juvencum, 
 Atque opere in medio defixa relinquit aratra. 
 
 Which Dryden thus renders : 
 
 The fteer, who to the yoke was bred to bow, 
 (Studious of tillage, and the crooked plow). 
 Falls down and dies ; and, dying, fpews a flood 
 Of foamy madnefs mixed with clotted blood. 
 The clown, who ciirfing Providence repines. 
 His mournful fellow from the team disjoins ; 
 With many a groari forfakec his fruitlefs care. 
 And in th' unfinifli'd furrow leaves the fnare. 
 
 fome editor of Dryden would expunge the laft part of 
 the following fentence, which, as it nov/ ftands, is a re- 
 proach to humanity. " One is for raking in Chaucer 
 " for antiquated words, which are never to be le-ived, 
 *' but when found or fignificancy is wanting in the pi'e- 
 *' fent language : but many of his deferve not this re- 
 *' demption ; any more than the crouds of m.en who 
 *' daily die or are flain for fixpence in a battle, merit to 
 *■ be veftoi-ed to life, if a wilh could revive them." 
 
 Pojlfcript to Virgil. 
 
 Not
 
 x6 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 Not to infifl upon the mifreprefentation of 
 Virgil's meaning in the firft couplet, I would 
 only appeal to the reader, whether, by deba- 
 fing the charming iimplicity of // tnflis ara- 
 tor with his blafphemous paraphrafe, Dry- 
 den has not deflroyed the beauty of the paf- 
 fage *. Such is the oppofition between good 
 
 poetry 
 
 * Examples of bad writing might no doubt be pro- 
 duced, on almoft any occafion, from Quarles and Black- 
 more j but as no body i-eads their works, no body is 
 liable to be mifled by them. It would feem, therefore, 
 more expedient to take fuch examples from authors of 
 merit, whofe beauties too often give a fanftion to their 
 blemifhes. For this reafon it is, that I have, both here 
 and in other places, taken the liberty to ipeak of Dry- 
 den with difapprobation. But as I would not be thought 
 infenfible to the merit of an author, to whom every lo- 
 ver of Englilh poetry is deeply indebted, I beg leave, once 
 for all, to deliver at large my opinion of that great ge- 
 nius. 
 
 There is no modern writer, whofe ftyle is more dif- 
 tinguifhable. Energy and eafe are its chief characters. 
 The former is owing to a happy choice of expreflions, e- 
 qually emphatical and plain : the latter to a laudable 
 partiality in favour of the idioms and radical words of 
 the Englifli tongue ; the native riches and peculiar ge- 
 nius whereof are perhaps more apparent in him, than 
 in any other of our poets. In Dryden's more correct 
 pieces, we meet with no affe(flation of words of Greek 
 or Latin etymology, no cumberfome pomp of epithets, 
 no drawling circumlocutions, no idle glare of images, no 
 blundcrings round abotu a meaning : his Englifli is pure 
 and fimple, nervous and clear, io a degree which Popq 
 has never exceeded, and not ah\ ays equalled. Yet, as 
 I have elfewhere remarked, his attachment to the ver- 
 nacular idiom, as well as the fafliion of his age, often 
 betrays him into a vulgarity, and even meannefs, of ex- 
 prsffion, which is particularly obfervable in his tranfla- 
 2 tions
 
 Ch. I. AND M U S I a \f 
 
 poetry and bad morality ! So true it is, 
 that the bard who would captivate the heart 
 
 muft 
 
 tlons of Virgil and Horner^ and in thofe pafts of his 
 writings where he aims at pathos or fublimity. In fail, 
 Dryden's genius did not lead him to the fublime or pa- 
 thetic. Good ftrokes of both may doubtlefs be found in 
 him ; but they are momentary, and feem to be acci- 
 dental. He is too witty for the one, and too familiai- 
 for the other. That he had no adequate relilh for the 
 majefty of Paradife Loft, is evident to thofe who have 
 compared his opera called The Jlate of innocence with 
 that immortal poem ; and that his tafte for the true 
 pathetic was imperfedl, too manifeftly appears from the 
 general tenor of his Tranflations, as well as Tragedies; 
 His Virgil abounds in lines and couplets of the moft per- 
 ic£t beauty \ but thefe are mixed with others of a dif- 
 erent ftamp : nor can they who judge of the original 
 by this tranflation, ever receive any tolerable idea of that 
 uniform magnificence of found and language, that ex- 
 quifite choice of words, and figures and that fweet pa- 
 thos of expreflion and of fentiment, which characferif^ 
 the Mantuan Poet. In delineating the more fami- 
 liar fcenes of life, in clothing plain moral dodtrines with 
 eafy and graceful verlification, in the various departments 
 of Comic Satire, and in the fpirit and melody of his 
 Lyric poems, Dryden is inferior to none of thofe who 
 went before him. He exceeds his mafter Chaucer in the 
 firft : in the three laft he i-ivals Horace ; the flyle of 
 whofe epiftles he has happily imitated in his Religio Laid, 
 and other didaftic pieces ; and the harmony and elegance 
 of whofe odes he has proved that he could have equal- 
 led, if he had thought proper to cultivate that branch 
 of the poetic art. Indeed, whether we conflder his pe- 
 culiar fignificancy of expreflion, or the purity of his 
 ftyle •, the fweetnefs of his lyric, or the eafe and perfpi- 
 cuity of his moral poems ; the fportive feverity of his 
 fatire, or his talents in wit and humour; Dryden, irt 
 point of genius, (I do not fay tajie)y feems to bear a 
 clofer affinity to Horace, than to any other ancient or 
 . Vol. \i. ' C moderrf
 
 i8 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 muil iing in unifon to the voice of confcience ! 
 — and that injlniclion (taking the word in no 
 
 unwarrantable 
 
 modern author. For energy of words, vivacity of de- 
 fcription, and appofite variety of numbers, his FenJ} of 
 Jlexandcr is fuperior to any ode of Horace or Pindar 
 now extant. 
 
 Dryden's verfe, though often faulty, has a grace, and 
 a fpirit, peculiar to itfelf. That of Pope is more cor- 
 reiSt, and perhaps upon the whole more harmonious ; 
 but it is in general more languid, and lefs diverlified. 
 Pope's numbers are fweet but elaborate •, and our fenfe 
 of their energy is in fome degree interrupted by our 
 attention to the ai-t difplayed in their contexture : Dry- 
 i'en's are natural and free ; and, while they communi- 
 cate their own fprightly motion to the fpirits of the read- 
 er, hurry him along with a gentle and pleafing violence, 
 without giving him time either to animadvert on their 
 faults, or to analyfe their beauties. Pope excels in fo- 
 lemnity of found ; Dryden, in an eafy melody, and 
 boundlefs variety of rhythm. In this lall: refpect I think 
 I could prove, that he is fuperior to all other Englifb 
 poets, Milton himfelf not excepted. Till Dryden ap- 
 peared, none of our writers in rhime of the laft century 
 approached in any meafure to the harmony of Fairfax 
 and Spenfer. Of Waller it can only be faid, that he 
 is not harfh ; of Denham and Cowley, if a few couplets- 
 were ilruck out of their works, we could not fay fo much. 
 But in Dryden^s hands, the Englifb rhiming couplet af- 
 fumed a new form ; and feems hai'dly fufceptible of any 
 lurther improvement. One of the greateft poets of this 
 century, tlie lace and much-lamented Mr Gray of Cam- 
 bridge, modeftly declared to me, that if there was ia 
 his own numbers any thing that deferved approbation, 
 he had learned it all from Dryden. 
 
 Critics have often ftated a comparifon between Dryden 
 and Pope, as poets of the fame order, and who differed 
 only in degree of merit. But, in my opinion, the merit 
 of the one differs contlderably in kind from that of the 
 oiher. Botli were happy in a found judgement and 
 
 moft:
 
 Ch. I. A N D M U S I C. 19 
 
 unwarrantable latitude) is one of the means 
 that muft be employed to render poetry- 
 agreeable. 
 
 For 
 
 moft comprehenfive mind. Wit, and humour, and 
 learning too, tliey Teem to have pofTcffed in equal mea- 
 fure ; or, if Dryden may be thought to have gone deep- 
 er in the fciences, Pope muft be allowed to have been the 
 greater adept in the arts. The divcrfities in point of cor- 
 reclnefs and delicacy, which arofe from their different 
 ways of life, I do not nov/ inlift upon. But, Tetting thofe 
 afide, if Dryden founds any claim of preference on the 
 originahty of his manner, we ihali venture to aiHiir, 
 that Pope may found a fimilar claim, and with equal 
 juftice, on the perfection of his tafte ; and that, if the 
 critical writings of the firft are more voluminous, thofe 
 of the fecond are more judicious ; if Dryden's inven- 
 tions are more diverfified, thofe of Pope are more re- 
 gular, and more important. Pope's ftyle may be thouglit 
 to have lefs fimplicity, lefs vivacity, and Icfs of the pu- 
 rity of the mother-tongue ; but is at the fame time more 
 uniformly elevated, and lefs debafed by vulgarifm, than 
 that of his great mafter : — and the fuperior variety that 
 animates the numbers of the latter, will perhaps be found 
 to be compenfated by the fteadier and more majeltic mo- 
 dulation of the former. Thus far their merits would 
 appear to be pretty equally balanced. — But if the opi- 
 nion of thofe critics be true, who hold, that the highc(t 
 regions of Parnaffus are appropriated to pathos and fu- 
 blimity, Dryden muft after all confefs, that he has never 
 afcended fo far as his illuftrious imitator : there being 
 notliing in the writings of the firft fo deeply pathetic as 
 the Epijlle of Eloifa, or the Elegy on the Unfortunate Lu^- 
 dy ; nor fo uniforiuly fublime as the Ejjay on Man, or 
 the Paftoral of the Mefiah. This laft is indeed but a fe-- 
 leftion and imitation of choice palTages ; but it befpeaks. 
 a power of imitation, and a lafte in feleclion, that 
 Dryden docs not feem to have polTelfed. To all whicli. 
 may I not be permitted to add, what I think 1 could 
 prove, that the pathos of Homer is frequently improved 
 
 C 2 by
 
 2io ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 For by inflrudlion I do not here under- 
 fland merely the cornmunication of moral 
 and pliyfical truth. Whatever tends to raife 
 thofe human afFedllons that are favourable 
 to truth and virtue, or to reprefs the op- 
 polite paflions, will always gratify and im- 
 prove our moral and intelle(5lual powers, 
 and may properly enough be called injiru^ive, 
 
 by Pope, and that of Virgil very frequently debafed by 
 Drydcn ? 
 
 The v/ritings of Dryden are {lamped with originality, 
 but arc not always the better for that circumftance. Pope 
 is an imitator profcfledly, and of choice ; but to moft 
 of tliofe whom he copies he is at leaft equal, and to ma-p 
 ny of them fuperior : and it is pleafing to obferve, how 
 he rifes in proportion to his originals. Where he fol- 
 lows Denham, Buckingham, Rofcomon, and Roche- 
 fter, in his Windfor-foreft, Effay on Criticifm, and 
 poem on Silence, he is fuperior indeed, but does not 
 ibar very high above them. When he verfifies Chaucer, 
 he catches, as by inftinft, the cafe, fimplicity, and fpirit 
 of Dryden, whom he there emulates. In the Rape of 
 the Lock he outfliines Boileau, as much as the fylphs 
 that flutter round Belinda exceed in fprightlinefs and 
 luminous beauty thofe mechanical attendants of the god- 
 defs of luxury, who knead up plumpnefs for the chin 
 of the canon, and pound vermilion for the cheek of the 
 monk *. His Eloifa is beyond all comparifon more fub^ 
 lime and more interefting than any of Ovid's letter- 
 writing ladies. His imitations of Horace equal their ar- 
 chetypes in elegance, and often furpafs them in energy 
 and fire. In the lyric ftyle, he was no match for Dry- 
 den : but when he copies the manner of Virgil, and bor- 
 rows the thoughts of Ifaiah, Pope is fuperior not only to 
 himfclf, but to almoft all other poets. 
 
 * See Rape of the Lock, canto 2. verf. 55. ; and Lutrln, 
 el^ant. c. verf. ^oo= 
 
 All
 
 Ch. r. AND MUSIC. 21 
 
 All poetry, therefore, is intitled to this epi- 
 thet, not only which imparts knowledge we 
 had not before ; but alfo which awakens our 
 pity for the fufFerings of our fellow-crea- 
 tures ; promotes a taile for the beauties of 
 nature animated or inanimate ; makes vice 
 appear the objecfl of indignation or ridicule ; 
 inculcates a fenfe of our dependence upon 
 Heaven ; fortifies our minds againft the evils 
 of life ; or promotes the love of virtue and 
 wifdom, either by delineating their native 
 charms, or by fetting before us in fuitable 
 colours the dreadful confequences of im- 
 prudent and immoral condudl. There are 
 few good poems of length, that will not be 
 found in one or more or perhaps in feveral 
 of thefe refpe(5ls, to promote the inftrudion 
 of a reader of tafte. Even the poem of Lu- 
 cretius, notwithftanding its abfurd philofo- 
 phy, (which, when the author gives way to 
 it, divefts him for a time of the poetical, 
 and even of the rational, charadler), abounds 
 in fentiments of great beauty and high im- 
 portance ; and in fuch delightful pi6lures of 
 nature, as mull inflame the enthufiafm where-' 
 with a well-informed mind contemplates the 
 wonders and glories of creation. Who can 
 attend to the execrable defigns of lago, to 
 Macbeth's progrefs through the feveral ftages 
 of guilt and mifery, to the ruin that over^ 
 takes the impious and tyrannical Mezentius, 
 to the thoughts and machinations of Satan 
 gnd his angels in Paradife Loll, without pay-'
 
 2i ONPOETRY Part L 
 
 ing a frefh tribute of praife to virtue, and 
 renewing his refolutions to perfevere in the 
 paths of innocence and peace ! Nay the ma- 
 chinery of Homer's deities, which in many 
 parts I abandon as indefeniible, will, if I 
 miftake not, generally appear, where-ever 
 it is really plealmg, to have fomewhat of 
 an ufeful tendency. I fpeak not now of the 
 importance of machinery, as an inftrument 
 of the fublime and of the marvellous, necef- 
 fary to every epic poem ; but of Homer's 
 ufe of it in thofe paflages where it is fup- 
 pofed by fome to be unnecefTary. And in 
 thefe, it often ferves to fet off a fimple facl 
 with allegorical decoration, and, of courfe, 
 by interefting us more in the fable, to im- 
 prefs upon us more effe(fi:ually the inftru(5lion 
 conveyed in it. And fometimes it is to be 
 confidered, as nothing more than a perfoni- 
 fication of the attributes of the divinity, or 
 the operations of the human foul. And, in 
 general, it teaches emphatically this import- 
 ant lelTon, that Providence ever fuperintends 
 the affairs of men ; that injuftice and impiety 
 are peculiarly obnoxious to divine vengeance ; 
 and that a proper attention to religious and 
 moral duty, never fails to recommend both 
 nations and individuals to the divine favour. 
 
 But if inflrudlion may be drawn from the 
 fpeeches and behaviour of Milton's devils, 
 of Shakefpeare's Macbeth, and of Virgil's 
 Mezentius, why is Cowley blamed for a 
 phrafe, which at woril implies only a flight
 
 Ch. I. A N D M U S I C. 23 
 
 fally of momentary pride ? I anfwer, that 
 to fpeak ferioufly the language of intempe- 
 rate paffion, is one thing ; to imitate or de- 
 fcribe it another. By the former, one can 
 never merit praife or efteem ; by the latter 
 one may merit much praife, and do much 
 good. In the one cafe, we recommend in- 
 temperate pafTions by our example ; in the 
 other, we may render them odious, by dii^ 
 playing their abfurdity and confequences. 
 To the greater part of his readers an author 
 cannot convey either pleafure or inftru(5lion, 
 by delivering fentiments as his own, vv^hich 
 contradi(5l the general confcience of man- 
 kind. 
 
 Well ; but Dryden, in the pafTage lately 
 quoted and cenfured, does not deliver his 
 own fentiments, but only defcribes thofe of 
 another : why then fliould he be blamed for 
 making the unfortunate plowman irreligious ? 
 Why ? Becaufe he mifreprefents his author's 
 meaning ; and (which is worfe) counteracts 
 his defign. The defign of the Latin poet 
 was, not to expatiate on the punifhment due 
 to blafphemy or atheifm, but to raife pity, by 
 defcribing the melancholy efredls of a plague 
 fo fatal to the brute creation : — a theme ve- 
 ry properly introduced in the concluiion of 
 a poem on the art of rearing and prefer- 
 ring cattle. Now, had Virgil faid, as Dry- 
 den has done, that the farmer who lofl his 
 work-beaft was a blafphemer, we fliould not 
 have pitied him at all. But Virgil favs on-
 
 24 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 ly, that " the forrowful hufbandman went, 
 *' and unyoked the furviving bullock, and 
 ** left his plough fixed in the middle of the 
 *' unfiniflied furrow;"-^ and by this preg- 
 nant and picfturefque brevity, affecfts us a 
 thoufand times more, than he could have 
 done by recapitulating all the fentiments of 
 the poor farmer in the form of a folilo- 
 quy : — as indeed the view of the fcene, as 
 Virgil has drav^n it, with the emphatic fi- 
 lence of the fufPerer, would have been in* 
 coinparably more moving, than a long fpeech 
 from the plowman, fraught with moral re** 
 fledlions on death, and difappointment, and 
 the uncertainty of human things. For to a 
 poem mere morality is not fo effential as ac- 
 cvirate defcription ; which, however, in mat- 
 ters of importance, mu(t have a moral ten- 
 dency, otherwife the human affections will 
 take part againft it. 
 
 But what do you fay to the tragedy of 
 Venice prcjewed^ in which our pity and o* 
 ther benevolent emotions are engaged in be- 
 half of thofe whom the moral faculty dif- 
 approves ? Is not the poetry, for this very 
 realon, immoral ? And yet, is it not pa- 
 thetic and pleafing ? How then can you 
 iay, that fomething of a moral or inftrudliive 
 tendency is neceflary to make a poem agree- 
 able : — In anfwer to this, let it be obferved, 
 — firfl, That it is natural for us to fympa- 
 thife with thofe who fufler, even when they 
 fufFer jul^ly ; which, however, implies not 
 2. any
 
 Ch. L A >^ D MUSIC. 
 
 25 
 
 any liking to their crimes, or that our mo- 
 ral fentiments are at all perverted, but which, 
 on the contrary, by quickening our fenfe of 
 the mifery conlbquent upon guilt, may be 
 ufeful in conflrrriing good principles, and 
 improving the m.dral fenfibility of the mind : 
 -— fecondly. That the mofl pleafing and nioft 
 pathetic parts of the play in quettion are thoi'd 
 which relate to an amiable lady, with whofe 
 diftrefs, as well as with her hufband's on 
 her account, we rationally fympathife, be- 
 caufe that arifes from their mutual affection : 
 — thirdly. That the confpirators give a plau- 
 lible colour to their caufe, and exert a great- 
 nefs of mind, which takes off our attention 
 from their crimes, and leaves rooixt for the 
 tender emotions to operate occafionally in 
 their favour : — ■ and fourthly, That the me- 
 rit of this play, like that of the Orphan^ lies 
 rathei* in the beauty of particular pafTages^ 
 than in the general effec^t of the whole ; and 
 that, if in any part the author has endea- 
 voured to intereft our kind affedlions in op- 
 pofition to Gonfcience, his poetry will there 
 be found to be equally unpleafing and un- 
 inftru6live. , 
 
 But may not agreeable afFedlions arife in 
 the mind, which partake neither of vice nor 
 of virtue; fuch as joy, and hope, and thofe 
 emotions that accompany the contemplation 
 of external beaiity^ or magnificence ? And, 
 if piftorals and fongs, and Anacreontic odes^ 
 awaken theie agreeable affeclions, may not 
 
 Vol. II. D ' fuch
 
 -6 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 fiich poems be pleafing, without being in- 
 ftruclive ? This may be, no doubt. And 
 for this reafon, among others, I take in- 
 flrudlion to be only a lecondary end of poe- 
 try. But it is only by ihort poems, as fongs 
 and pailorals, that thefe agreeable affeclions 
 indifferent alike to vice and virtue, are ex- 
 cited, without any mixture of ethers. For 
 moral fentiments are fo prevalent in the hu- 
 man mind, that no affection can long fub- 
 fifl there, without intermingling with them, 
 and being affniiilated to their nature. Nor 
 can a piece of real and plealing poetry be ex- 
 tended to any great length, without opera- 
 ting, direclly or indirectly, either on tiiufe 
 affections that are friendly to virtue, or on 
 thofe fympathies that quicken our moral fen- 
 fibility, and prepare us for virtuous impref- 
 lions. In fa (ft, man's true happinefs is deri- 
 ved from the moral part of his conititution ; 
 and therefore we cannot fuppofe, that any 
 thing which affects not his moral part, iliould 
 be la-ftingly and generally agreeable. We 
 fympathife with the pleafure one takes in 
 a feall:, where there is friendiliip, and an 
 interchange of good offices ; but not with the 
 fatisfaclion an epicure finds in devouring a 
 folitary banquet. A ffiort Anacreontic we 
 may relilh for its melody and fparkling i- 
 mages ; but a long poem, in order to be 
 pleafing, mud not only charm the ear and 
 the fancy, but alfo touch the heart and exer- 
 cife tlie confcience. 
 
 Still
 
 Ch. I. AND MUSIC. 27 
 
 Still perhaps it may be objecfled to thefc 
 reafonings, That Horace, in a well-known 
 verfe *, declares the end of poetry to be 
 twofold, to pleafe, or to inftrucil ; whereas 
 we maintain, thac the ultimate end of this 
 art is to pleafe; inflruclion being only one 
 of the means (and not always a neceflkry 
 one) by which that ultimate end is to be ac- 
 complimed. This interpretation of Horace 
 has indeed been admitted by fome modern 
 critics : but it is erroneous ; for the paflage, 
 3'ightly underftood, will not appear to con- 
 tain any thing inconfiftent with the prelent 
 doctrine. The author is there dating a com- 
 parifon between the Greek and Roman wri- 
 ters, with a view to the poetry of the flage ; 
 and, after commending the former for their 
 corredlnefs, and for the liberal fpirit where- 
 with they conducfled their literary labours, 
 and blaming his countrymen for their in- 
 accuracy and avarice, he proceeds thus : 
 *' The ends propofed by our dramacic poets 
 " (or by poets in general) are, to pleafe, to 
 " indrucl, or to do borh. When inftru(fiion 
 *' is your aim, let your moral fentences be 
 " expreffed with brevity, that they may be 
 '* readily underftood, and long remembered : 
 *' where you mean to pleafe, let your fid-ions 
 be conformable to truth, or probabilit- , 
 The elder part of your audience (or reaa- 
 ers) have no reliih for poems that give 
 
 * Aut prodefle volunt, aut deledlare poetsc. 
 
 D 2 " pleafure 
 
 ((
 
 28 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 *' pleafure only without inftrudlion ; nor 
 *' the younger for fuch writings as give in- 
 " flru(5lion without pleafure. He only can 
 *' fecure the univerfal fufFrage in his favour, 
 ** who blends the ufeful with the agreeable, 
 ** and delights at the lame time that he in- 
 ** ilru6ts the reader. Such are the works 
 ** that bring monev to the bookfeller, that 
 *' pafs into foreign countries, and perpetuate 
 *' the author's name through a long fuc- 
 
 " ceiTion of ages ''^." Now, what is the 
 
 meaning of all this ? What, but that to the 
 perfection of dramatic poetry (or, if you 
 pleafe, of poetry in general) both found mo- 
 rals and beautiful fidlion are requilite. But 
 Horace never meant to fay, that inlfru^lion, 
 as well as pleafare, is necellary to give to a- 
 ny compofition the poetical character : or he 
 would not in another place have celebrated, 
 v/ith fo much afieclion and rapture, the 
 melting drains of Sappho, and the playful 
 genius of Anacreon f ; — two authors tran- 
 •fcendently fweet, but not remarkably in- 
 flrucliye. We are fure, that pathos, and 
 harmony, and elevated language, were, in 
 Horace's opinion, eflential to poetry % ; and 
 pf thefe decorations no body will affirm, that 
 inflruclion is the end, who confiders that the 
 
 ♦ Hor. Ar. Poet. 333. — 347. 
 
 f Hor. Carni. lib. 4. ode 9. 
 
 \ Hor. Sat. lib. i. fat. 4. verf. 40. 
 
 moft
 
 Ch. I. AND MUSIC. 29 
 
 nioft inftrudtive books in the world are writ- 
 ten in plain profe. 
 
 liCt this therefore be eftablifhed as a truth 
 in criticifm, That the end of poetry is, t o 
 PLEASE. Verfes, if pleafing, may be poe- 
 tical, though they convey little or no inftruc- 
 tion ; but verfes, whofe fole merit is, that 
 thev convey inftrudtion, are not poetical. 
 Inftracftion, however, efpecially in poems of 
 length, is necefTary to their -perfeftion^ becaufe 
 they would not be -perfectly agreeable without 
 it. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of the Standard of Poetical Inven- 
 tion. 
 
 'Omer*s beautiful defcription of the 
 heavens and earth, as they appear in a 
 calm evening by the light of the moon and 
 liars, concludes with this circumftance, 
 *' And the heart of the fhepherd is glad *." 
 Madame Dacier, from the turn flie gives 
 to the pafTage in her verfion, feems to think, 
 and Pope, in order perhaps to make out his 
 couplet, infinuates, that the gladnefs of the 
 
 ^ Iliad, b. 8. verf. 555. 
 
 fhepherd
 
 3<5 
 
 ON POETRY Part I. 
 
 lliepherd is owing to his fenfe of the utiUty 
 of thofe kiminaries. And this may in part 
 be the cafe : but this is not in Homer ; nor 
 is it a neceffary conhderation. It is true, 
 that, in contemplating the material uni- 
 verfe, tiiey who difcern the cauies and efiecls 
 of things mull he more rapturoufly enter- 
 tained, than thofe wh<-> perceive nothing but 
 ihape and iize, colour and motion. Yet, in 
 the mere outfide of Nature's works, (if I may 
 fo exprefs myfelf ), there is a fplendour and 
 a magnificence to which even untutored 
 minds cannot attend, without great delight. 
 Not that all pealants, or all philofophers, 
 are equally fufceptible of thefe charming 
 impreifions- It is flrange to obferve the cal- 
 loufnefs of fome men, before whom all the 
 glories of heaven and earth pafs in daily fuc- 
 ceffion, without touching their hearts, eleva- 
 ting their fancy, or leaving any durable 
 remembrance. Even of thofe vrho pretend 
 to fenlibility, how many are there to whonx 
 the luftre of the rifing or fetting fun ; the 
 fparkling concave of the midnight- fky ; the 
 mountain- fore il toiling and roaring to the 
 llorm, or warbling with all the melodies of 
 a fuinm er- evening ; the fweet interchange of 
 hill and dale, Ihade and funfnine, grove, 
 lawn, and water, which an exteniive land- 
 fcape offers to the view ; the fcenery of thQ 
 ocean, fo lovely, fo majeftic, and fo tremen- 
 dous, and the many pleafmg varieties of the 
 animal and vegetable kingdom, could never 
 
 afford
 
 Ch. II. A N D M U S I C. ^t 
 
 afford fo much real fatisfacftion, as the fteams 
 and noife of a ball-room, the infipid fiddling 
 and fqueaking of an opera, or the vexations 
 and wranglings of a card-table ! 
 
 But fome minds there are of a different 
 make ; who, even in the early part of life, 
 receive from the contemplation of Nature a 
 fpecies of delight v^rhich they would hardly 
 exchange for any other ; and who, as ava- 
 rice and ambition are not the infirmities of 
 that period, would, with equal fmcerity and 
 rapture, - exclaim, 
 
 I care not, Fortune, what you me deny ; 
 
 You cannot rob me of free Nature's ^race ; 
 
 You cannot fhut the windows of the fky, 
 
 Through which Aurora fliows her brightening face , 
 
 You cannot bar my conftant feet to trace 
 
 The woods and lawns by living ftream at eve *. 
 
 Such minds have always in them the feeds 
 of true tafte, and frequently of imitative ge- 
 nius. At leaft, though their enthufiaftic or 
 vifionary turn of mind (as the man of the 
 world would call it) fliould not always in- 
 cline them to pradlife poetry or painting, we 
 need not fcruple to afurm, that without fome 
 portion of this enthuliafm, no perfon ever 
 became a true poet or painter. For he who 
 would imitate the works of Nature, mufl 
 £rft accuratelv obferve them : and accurate 
 
 * Caftle of Indolence. 
 
 obfervation
 
 32 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 obfervation is to be expected from tliofe only 
 who take great pleafure in it. 
 
 To a mind thus difpofed no part of crea- 
 tion is indifferent. In the crouded city, and 
 howling wiidernefs; in the cultivated pro- 
 vince, and folitary ifle ; in the flowery lawn, 
 and craggy mountain; in the murmur of 
 the rivulet, and in the uproar of the ocean; 
 in the radiance of fummer, and gloom of 
 winter ; in the thunder of heaven, and in 
 the whifper of the breeze ; he ftill finds 
 fomething to roufe or to footh his imagi- 
 nation, to draw forth his afFe(5lions, or to 
 employ his underftanding. And from every 
 mental energy that is not attended with 
 pain, and even from fome of thofe that are, 
 as moderate terror and pity, a found mind 
 derives fatisfadion ; exercife being equally 
 neceflfary to the body and the foul, and to 
 both equally producflive of health and plea- 
 fure. 
 
 This happy fenflbility to the beauties of 
 Nature fhould be cheriflied in young perfons. 
 ft engages them to contemplate the Crea- 
 tor in his wonderful works ; it purifies and 
 harmonizes the foul, and prepares it for mo- 
 ral and intelleclual difcipline ; it fupplies an 
 endlefs fource of amufement ; it contributes 
 even to bodily health ; and, as a ilridl ana- 
 logy fubfiils between material and moral 
 beauty, it leads the heart by an eafy tranfi- 
 tion from the one to the other ; and thus 
 recommends virtue for its tranfceadent love- 
 I linefs,
 
 Ch. IT. AND MUSIC. iz 
 
 o> 
 
 linefs, and makes vice appear the objetfl of 
 contempt and abomination. An intimate ac- 
 quaintance with the bed defcriptive poets, 
 Spenfer, Milton, and Thomfon, but above 
 all with the divine Georgic, joined to fome 
 pradlice in the art of drawing, will promote 
 this amiable fenfibility in early years ; for 
 then the face of Nature has novelty fuperadd- 
 ed to its other charms, the paflions are not 
 pre-engaged, the heart is free from care, 
 and the imagination warm and romantic. 
 
 But, not to infift longer on thofe ardent 
 emotions that are peculiar to the cnthufiaftic 
 difciple of Nature, may it not be afBrmed of 
 all men, without exception, or at leaft of all' 
 the enlightened part of mankind, that they 
 are gratified by the contemplation of things 
 natural, as oppofed to unnatural ? Mon- 
 ftrous fights pleafe but for a moment, it 
 they pleafe at all ; for they derive their chnrm 
 from the beholder's amazement, which is 
 quickly over. I have read indeed of a man 
 of rank in Sicily *, who chufes to adorn his 
 villa with pictures and flatues of mod un- 
 natural deformity ; but it is a fingular in- 
 ftance : and one would not be much more 
 furprifed to hear of a perfon living with- 
 out food, or growing fat by the ufe of poi- 
 fon. To fay of any thing, that it is contrary 
 to nature^ denotes cenfure and difgufl on 
 the part of the fpeaker ; as the epithet natural 
 
 * See Mr Brydone's Tour in Sicily, letter 24. 
 
 Vol. II. E intimates.
 
 34 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 intimates an agreeable quality, and feems for 
 the moft part to imply, that a thing is as it 
 ought to be, fuitable to our own tafte, and 
 congenial with our own conftitution. Think, 
 with what fentiments we iliould perufe a 
 poem, in which Nature was totally mifrepre- 
 fented, and principles of thought and of 
 operation fuppofed to take place, repugnant 
 to every thini^ we had feen or heard of: — > 
 in which, for example, avarice and coldnefs 
 were afcribed to youth, and prodigality and 
 pallionate attachment to the old ; in which 
 men were made to a6l at random, fometimes 
 according to character, and fometimes con- 
 trary to it ; in which cruelty and envy were 
 produiSlive of love, and beneficence and kind 
 afPeclion of hatred; in which beauty was 
 invariably the objecft of diflike, and ugli- 
 nefs of defire ; in which fociety was ren- 
 dered happy by atheifm, and the promif- 
 cuous perpetration of crimes, and juftice and 
 fortitude were held in univerfal contempt. 
 Or think, how we (liould relifli a painting, 
 where no regard was had to the proportions, 
 colours, or any of the phyiical laws, of 
 Nature : — where the ears and eyes of a- 
 nimals were placed in their ihoulders ; where 
 the fky was green, and the grafs crimfon; 
 where trees grew with their branches in the 
 earth, and their roots in the air ; where men 
 were feen fighting after their heads were cut 
 off, fliips failing on the land, lions entangled 
 in cobwebS| llieep preying on dead carcafTes, 
 
 filhes
 
 Ch. ir. AMD MUSI C. 3 j 
 
 fiflies fporting in the woods, and elephants 
 walking on the fea. Could fuch figures and 
 combinations give pleafure, or merit the ap- 
 pellation of fublime or beautiful ? Should 
 we hefitate to pronounce their author mad ? 
 And are the abfurdities of madmen proper 
 fubjecfls either of amufement or of imitation 
 to reafonable beings ? 
 
 Let it be remarked too, that though we 
 diftinguifh our internal powers by ditfcrent 
 names, becaufe otherwife we could not fpeak 
 of them fo as to be underflood, they are all 
 but fo many energies of the fame individual 
 mind ; and therefore it is not to be fuppofed, 
 that v/hat contradicts any one leading facul- 
 ty fliould yield permanent delight to the 
 reft. That cannot be agreeable to reafon, 
 which confcience difapproves ; nor can that 
 gratify imagination, which is repugnant to 
 
 reafon. — Beiides, belief and acquiefcence 
 
 of mind are pleafant, as diftruft and difbeiief 
 are painful ; and therefore, that only can 
 give folid and general fatisfa(5lion, which has 
 fomething of plaufibility in it; fomething 
 which we conceive it poffible for a rational 
 being to believe. But no rational being can 
 acquiefce in what is obviouily contrary to 
 nature, or implies palpable abfurdity. 
 
 Poetry, therefore, and indeed every art 
 whofe end is to pleafe, muft be natural ; and 
 if fo, muft exhibit real matter of facl, or 
 fomething like it ; that is, in other words, 
 
 E 2 muft
 
 J 
 
 6 ONPOETRY Part I, 
 
 mufb be, either according to truth, or accor- 
 ding to verifimilitude. 
 
 And though every part of the material u- 
 niverfe abounds in obje6ls of pleafurable 
 contemplation, yet nothing in nature fo 
 powerfully touches our hearts, or gives fo 
 great variety of exercife to our moral and 
 intelle6lual faculties, as man. Human af- 
 fairs and hum.an feelings are univerfally in- 
 terefting. There are many who have no 
 great relifh for the poetry that delineates on- 
 ly irrational or inanimate beings ; but to 
 that which exhibits the fortunes, the charac- 
 ters, and the candu61 of men, there is hard- 
 ly any perfon v/ho does not liften with 
 fympathy and delight. And hence, to imi- 
 tate human action, is coniidered by Ariftotle 
 as efiential to this art ; and muft be allowed 
 to be efiential to the mofl pleafing and moll 
 inifrudlive part of it, I mean to epic and 
 dramatic compolition. Mere defcriptions, 
 however beautiful, and moral reileclions, 
 however juft, become tirefome, where our 
 pailions are not occafionally awakened by 
 fome event that concerns our fellow-men. 
 Do not all readers of tafte receive peculiar 
 pleafure from thofe little tales or epifodes, 
 with which Thomfon's defcriptive poem on 
 the Seafons is here and there enlivened ? and 
 are they not fenfible, that the thunder-ftorm 
 would not have been half fo interefting with- 
 out the tale of the two lovers *j nor the 
 
 -" Summer, verf. iitj. 
 
 harvefl-
 
 Ch. II. AND MUSIC. 37 
 
 harveft-fcene, without that of Palemon and 
 Lavinia * ; nor the driving fnows, without 
 that exquifite pidlure of a man perifhing a- 
 mong them -f- ? It is much to be regretted, 
 that Young did not employ the fame artifice 
 to animate his Night-Thoughts. Sentiments 
 and defcriptions may be regarded as the pila- 
 fters, carvings, gildings, and other decora- 
 tions of the poetical fabric ; but human 
 actions are the columns and the rafters, that 
 give it {lability and elevation. Or, changing 
 the metaphor, we may confider thefe as the 
 foul which informs the lovely frame ; while 
 thofe are little more than the ornaments of 
 the body. 
 
 Whether the pleafure we take in things 
 natural, and our dillike to w^hat is the re- 
 verfe, be the efFecft of habit or of conftitu- 
 tion, is not a material inquiry. There is 
 nothing abfurd in fuppofing, that between 
 the foul, in its firft formation, and the reft 
 of nature, a mutual harmony and fympathy 
 may have been eftabliilied, which experience 
 may indeed confirm, but no perverfe habits 
 could entirely fubdue. As no fort of edu- 
 cation could make man believe the contrary 
 of a felf-evident axiom, or reconcile him to 
 a life of perfed: folitude ; fo I fliould ima- 
 gine, that our love of nature and regularity 
 might ftill remain with us in fome degree. 
 
 * Autumn, verf. I'j-j. 
 t Winter, verf, 276. 
 
 though 
 
 o 
 
 5r5 4 8 4
 
 38 ONPOETRY Part T. 
 
 though we had been born and bred in the 
 SiciUan villa above mentioned, and never 
 heard any thing applauded but what defer- 
 ved cenfure, nor cenfured but what merit- 
 ed applaufe. Yet habit mull be allowed to 
 have a powerful influence over the fentiments 
 and feelings of mankind. Objetfls to which 
 we have been long accuftomed, we are apt 
 to contra(ft a fondnefs for ; we conceive them 
 readily, and contemplate them with pleafure ; 
 nor do we quit our old tracfls of fpeculation 
 or practice, without reluctance and pain^ 
 Hence in part arifes our attachment to our 
 own profellions, our old acquaintance, our 
 native foil, our homes, and to the very hills, 
 flreams, and rocks in our neighbourhood. 
 It Vv^ould therefore be ftrange, if man, ac- 
 cuftomed as he is from his earlieft days to 
 the regularity of nature, did not contract a 
 liking to her productions, and principles of 
 operation. 
 
 Yet we neither expect nor delire, that eve- 
 ry human invention, where the end is only 
 to pleafe, fhould be an exacl tranfcript of 
 real exiltence. It is enough, that the mind 
 acquiefce in it as probable, or plaufible, or 
 fuch as we think might happen without 
 any dire6l oppofition to the laws of Nature : 
 — or, to fpeak more accurately, it is enough, 
 that it be confiftent, either, firft, with gene- 
 ral experience ; or, lecondly, with popu- 
 lar opinion ; or, thirdly, that it be confid- 
 ent
 
 Ch. H. A N D M U S I C. 39 
 
 ent with itfelf, and connedled with probable 
 circumflances. 
 
 Firfl : If a human invention be confiflent 
 with general experience, we acquiefce in ic 
 as fuificiently probable. Particular expe- 
 riences, however, there may be, fo uncom- 
 mon and fo little expedled, that we Ihould 
 not admit their probability, if we did not 
 know them to be true. No man of fenfe 
 believes, that he has any likelihood of being 
 enriched by the difcovery of hidden treafure ; 
 or thinks it probable, on purchaiing a lot- 
 tery-ticket, that he fhall gain the firil prize ; 
 and yet great wealth has actually been ac- 
 quired by fuch good fortune. But we fhould 
 look upon thefe as poor expedients in a play 
 or romance for bringing about a happy ca- 
 taftrophe. We expecft that fi6lion fhould 
 be more confonant to the general tenor of 
 human affairs ; in a word, that not poffibili- 
 ty, but probability, fhould be the ftandard 
 of poetical invention. 
 
 Secondly : Ficftion is admitted as conform- 
 able to this ftandard, when it accords with 
 received opinions. Thefe may be erroneous, 
 but are not often apparently repugnant to na- 
 ture. On this account, and becaufe they are 
 familiar to us from our infancy, the mind 
 readily acquiefces in them, or at leaft yields 
 them that degree of credit which is ne- 
 ceffary to render them pleaflng. Hence the 
 fairies, ghofts, and witches of Shakefpeare, 
 are admitted as probable beings ; and angels 
 
 obtain
 
 40 ONPOETRY Part I.. 
 
 obtain a place in religious pidlures, though 
 we know that they do not now appear in 
 the fcenery of real life. Even when a po- 
 pular opinion has long been exploded, and 
 has become repugnant to univerfal belief, 
 the fidlions built upon it are ftill admitted as 
 natural, becaufe they were accoimted fuch 
 by the people to whom they were firft ad- 
 drefTed; whofe fentiments and views of things 
 we are willing to adopt, when, by the power 
 of pleafing defcription, we are introduced 
 into their fcenes, and made acquainted with 
 their manners. Hence we admit the theo- 
 logy of the ancient poets, their Elyfium and 
 Tartarus, Scylla and Charybdis, Cyclops and 
 Circe, and the reft of thofe " beautiful won- 
 " ders" (as Horace calls them) which were 
 believed in the heroic ages ; as well as the 
 demons and inchantments of TaiTo, which 
 may be fuppofed to have obtained no fmall 
 degree of credit among the Italians of the 
 lixteenth century, and are fuitable enough to 
 the notions that prevailed univerfally in Eu- 
 rope not long before *. In fa6t, when 
 
 Poetry 
 
 * In the fourteenth century, the common people of 
 Italy believed, that the poet Dante adlually went down 
 to hell j that the Inferno was a true account of what 
 he faw there; and that his fallow complexion, and ftunt- 
 cd beard, (which feemed by its growth and colour to 
 have been too near the fire), were the confequence of 
 his pafluig fo much of his time in that hot and fmoky 
 region. See Vicende delta lit erat lira del Sig. C. Denina^ 
 
 cap. 4. Sir John Mandeville's B.ook of Travels, writ- 
 
 2 ten
 
 Qi. II. AND MUSIC. 41 
 
 Poetry is in other refpedls true ; when it 
 gives an accurate difplay of thofe parts of na- 
 ture about which we know that men in all 
 ages mufl have entertained the fame opinion, 
 I mean thofe appearances in the vifible crea- 
 tion, and thofe feelings and workings of 
 the human mind, which are obvious to all 
 mankind ; — when Poetry, I fay, is thus far 
 according to nature, we are very willing to 
 be indulgent to what is fictitious in it, and 
 to grant a temporary allowance to any fyftem 
 of fable which the author pleafes to adopt ; 
 provided that he lay the fcene in a diftanc 
 country, or fix the date to a remote period. 
 This is no unreafonable piece of complai- 
 fance : we owe it both to the poet and to 
 ourfelves ; for without it we fliould neither 
 form a right eftimate of his genius, nor re- 
 ceive from his works that pleafure which 
 they were intended to impart. Let him, 
 however, take care, that his fyftem of fable 
 be fuch, as his countrymen and contempo- 
 raries (to whom his work is immediately 
 addrefled) might be fuppofed capable of 
 yielding their aflent to ; for otherv/ife v/e 
 Ihould not believe him to be in earned : and 
 let him connect it as much as he can with 
 
 ten not long after, was not only ratified by the Pope, 
 after having been compared with the Mappa Mundi of 
 that time, but, what is more ftrange, feems to have 
 been ferioufly believed by that adventurous knight him- 
 felf, though a man of confiderabk learning, and no 
 defpicable tafte. See the Conclnfion of the Book. 
 
 Vol. II. F probable
 
 42 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 probable circumftances, and make it appear 
 in a feries of events confiftent with itfelf. 
 
 For (thirdly) if this be the cafe, we fliall 
 admit his flory^ as probable, or at lead as 
 natural, and confeqnently be interefled in it, 
 even though it be not warranted by general 
 experience, and derive but llender authority 
 from popular opinion. Calyban, in the Tem- 
 ped, would have Ihocked the mind as an im- 
 probability, if we had not been made ac- 
 quainted with his origin, and feen his cha- 
 racter difplayed in a feries of confiftent beha- 
 viour. But when we are told, that he fprung 
 from a witch and a demon, a connection 
 not contrary to the laws of Nature, as they 
 were underfiood in Shakefpeare's time, and 
 find his manners conformable to his defcent, 
 we are eafily reconciled to the fi(5lion. In 
 the fame fenfe, the Lilliputians of Swift 
 may pafs for probable beings ; not fo much 
 becaufe we know that a belief in pygmies 
 was once current in the world, (for the true 
 ancient pygmy was at leaft thrice as tall 
 as thofe whom Gulliver vifited), but be- 
 caufe we find, that every circumftance rela- 
 ting to them accords with itfelf, and with 
 their fuppofed chara(5ler. It is not the fize of 
 the people only that is diminutive ; their 
 country, feas, ihips, and towns, are all in 
 exa6l proportion ; their theological and po- 
 litical principles, their paflions, manners, 
 cuftoms, and all the parts of their condudl, 
 betray a levity and littlenefs perfectly fuita- 
 
 ble :
 
 Ch. II. AND MUSIC. 4^ 
 
 ble : and Co fimple is the whole narration, 
 and apparently fo artlefs and fincere, that I 
 fhould not much wonder, if it had impo- 
 fed (as I have been told it has) upon fome 
 perfons of nb contemptible underftanding. 
 The fame degree of credit may perhaps for 
 the fame reafons be due to his giants. But 
 when he grounds his narrative upon a con- 
 tradiction to nature ; when he prefents us 
 with rational brutes, and irrational men; 
 when he tells us of horfes building houfes 
 for habitation, milking cows for food, riding 
 in carriages, and holding converfations on 
 the laws and politics of Europe ; not all his 
 genius (and he there exerts it to the utmofl) 
 is able to reconcile us to fo monftrous a fic- 
 tion : we may fmile at fome of his abfurd 
 exaggerations j we may be pleafed with the 
 energy of ftyle, and accuracy of defcription, 
 in particular places ; and a malevolent heart 
 may triumph in the fatire : but we can ne- 
 ver relifh it as a fable, becaufe it is at once 
 unnatural and felf-contradicftory. Swift's 
 judgement feems to have forfaken him on 
 this occafion * : he wallows in nafcinefs and 
 
 brutality ; 
 
 * There are improprieties in this narrative, which one 
 would think a very flight attention to nature might have 
 prevented ; and which, without heightening the fatire, 
 ierve only to aggravate the abfurdity of the fubl.e. 
 Houyknhnms are horfes in perfection, v.'ith the addition 
 of reafon and virtue. Whatever, therefore, taices a- 
 ■way from their perfedlion as horf^'s, witliout adding to 
 
 F z tiiciv
 
 44- ON POETRY Fart I. 
 
 brutality ; and the general run of his fatird 
 is downright defamation. Lucian's True 
 Hiftory is a heap of extravagancies put to- 
 gether without order or unity, or any other 
 apparent defign, than to ridicule the lan- 
 guage and manner of grave authors. His 
 ravings, which have no better right to the 
 name of Fable, than a hill of rubbilh has to 
 that of Palace, are deftitute of every colour 
 of plaufibility. Animal trees, fhips failing 
 in the fky, armies of monflrous things tra- 
 velling between the fun and moon on a pave- 
 
 their rational and moral accomplifliments, mufr be re- 
 pugnant to the author^s defign, and ought not to have 
 found a place in his narration. Yet he makes his be- 
 loved quadrupeds diuell in houfes of their own building, 
 and ufe wann food and the milk of cows as a delicacy : 
 though thefe luxuries, fuppofed attainable by a nation of 
 horfes, could contribute no moi^-e to their perfection, 
 than brandy and imprifonment would to that of a man. 
 
 Again, did Swift believe, that religious ideas are 
 
 natural to a reafonable being, and necefiary to the hap- 
 pinefs of a moral one ? I hope he did. Yet has he re- 
 prcfented his houyhnhmnsy as patterns of moral virtue, as 
 the greateft mafters of reafon, and withal as completely 
 happy, without any religious ideas, or any views beyond 
 the prefent life. In a word, he would make ftupidity 
 confident with mental excellence, and unnatural appe- 
 tites with animal peifeftion. Thefe, however, are fmall 
 matters, compared with the other abfurdities of this 
 abominable tale. — But when a Chriflian Divine can fet 
 himfelf deliberately to trample upon that nature, which 
 he knoT»'s to have been made but a little lower than the 
 angels, and to have been alTumed by One far more ex- 
 alted tlian they, we need not be furprifed if the fame 
 perverfe habits of thinking which harden his heart, iLould 
 alfo debafe his judgement. 
 
 ment
 
 Ch. n. A N D M U S I C. 45 
 
 ment of cobwebs, rival nations of men 
 inhabiting woods and mountains in a whale's 
 belly, — are liker the dreams of a bedlamite, 
 than the inventions of a rational being. 
 
 If we were to profecute this fubje(ft any- 
 further, it would be proper to remark, that 
 in fome kinds of poetical invention a ftridler 
 probability is required than in others : — 
 that, for inflance, Comedy, whether Drama- 
 tic or Narrative *, muft feldom deviate from 
 the ordinary courfe of human affairs, becaufc 
 it exhibits the manners of real, and even of 
 familiar life; — that the Tragic poet, becaufe 
 he imitates charadlers more exalted, and ge- 
 nerally refers to events little known, or long 
 fince paft, may be allowed a wider range ; 
 but muft never attempt the marvellous fic- 
 tions of the Epic Mufe, becaufe he addrefTes 
 his work, not only to the jpaflions and ima- 
 gination of mankind, but alfo to their eyes 
 and ears, which are not eafily impofed on, 
 and refufe to be gratified with any reprefen- 
 tation that does not come very near the 
 truth ; — that the Epic Poem may claim ftill 
 ampler privileges, becaufe its fi6lions are not 
 fubjedl to the fcrutiny of any outward fenfe, 
 and becaufe it conveys information in regard 
 both to the higheft human charaders, and 
 the moft important and wonderful events, 
 
 * Fielding's Tom Jones, Amelia^ and Jofcph AndrevjSy 
 are examples of what I call the Epic or Nmrative Come- 
 dy : perhaps the Comic Epopee is a more peeper lenn. 
 
 and
 
 46 ONPOETRY Part t 
 
 and alfo to the affairs of unfeen worlds, 
 and fuperior beings. Nor would it be im- 
 proper to obferve, that the feveral fpecies of 
 Comic, of Tragic, of Epic compofition, are 
 not confined to the fame degree of probabi- 
 lity ; for that Farce may be allowed to be 
 lefs probable than the regular Comedy ; the 
 IMafque, than the regular Tragedy ; and the 
 Mixed Epic, fuch as The Fairy Queen, and 
 Orlando Furiofo, than the pure Epopee of 
 
 Homer, Virgil, and Milton. But this 
 
 part of the fubjed: feems not to require fur- 
 ther illuftration. Enough has been faid, to 
 lliow, that nothing unnatural can pleafe ; and 
 that therefore Poetry, whofe end is to pleafe, 
 muft be ACCop.DiNG to nature. 
 
 And if fo, it muft be, either according to 
 real nature, or according to nature fomewhat 
 different from the reality. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Poetry exhibits a fyftem of nature 
 fomewhat different from the reali- 
 ty of things. 
 
 'O exhibit real nature is the bufinefs of 
 the hillorian ; who, if he were ftriclly 
 to confine himfelf to his own fphere, would 
 
 never
 
 Ch. III. A N D M U S I C. 47 
 
 never record even the minuteft circumftancc 
 of any fpeech, event, or defcription, which 
 was not warranted by fufficient authority. 
 It has been the language of critics in every 
 age, that the hiflorian ought to relate no- 
 thing as true which is falfe or dubious, and 
 to conceal nothing material which he knows 
 to be true. But I doubt whether any wri- 
 ter of profane hiflory has ever been fo fcru- 
 pulous. Thucydides himfelf, who began his 
 hiftory when that war began which he re- 
 cords, and who fet down every event foon 
 after it happened, according to the mod au- 
 thentic information, feems however to have 
 indulged his fancy not a little in his ha- 
 rangues and defcriptions, particularly that 
 of the plague of Athens : and the fame thing 
 has been pracflifed, with greater latitude, by 
 Livy and Tacitus, and more or lefs by all 
 the bed hiflorians, both ancient and mo- 
 dern. Nor do I blame them for it. By 
 thefe improved or invented fpeeches, and 
 by the heightenings thus given to their de- 
 fcriptions, their work becomes more intereft-' 
 ing, and more ufeful; nobody is deceived, 
 and hiflorical truth is not materially afFec5l^ 
 ed. A medium is however to be obferved 
 in this, as in other things. When the hiflo- 
 rian lengthens a defcription into a detail of 
 fidlitious events, as Voltaire has done in his 
 account of the battle of Fontenoy, he lofes 
 his credit with us, by railing a fufpicion that 
 he is more intent upon a pretty llory, than 
 
 ppon
 
 48 ONPOETRY Part I. ' 
 
 "upon the truth. And we are difgufted with 
 his infincerity, when, in defiance even of 
 verifimilitude, he puts long elaborate ora- 
 tions in the mouth of thofe, of whom we 
 know, either from the circumftances that 
 they could not, or from more authentic 
 records that they did not, make any fuch 
 orations ; as Dionyfius of HalicarnafFus has 
 done, in the cafe of Volumnia haranguing 
 her fon Coriolanus, and Flavins Jofephus 
 in that of Judah addreffmg his brother as 
 viceroy of Egypt. From what thefe hifto- 
 rians relate, one would conjedlure, that the 
 Roman matron had fludied at Athens un- 
 der fome long-winded rhetorician, and that 
 the Jewiih patriarch muft have been one of 
 the mofl flowery orators of antiquity. But 
 the fi(5litious part of hiftory, or of flory-tell- 
 ing, ought never to take up much room ; and 
 mull: be highly blameable when it leads into 
 any miftake either of fadls or of characflers. 
 
 Now, why do hiftorians take the liberty 
 to embellifh their works in this manner ? 
 One reafon, no doubt, is, that they may 
 difplay their talents in oratory and narration : 
 but the chief reafon, as hinted already, is, 
 to render their compoiition more agreeable. 
 It would feem, then, that fomething more 
 pleafing than real nature, or fomething which 
 Ihall add to the pleafing qualities of real 
 nature, may be devifed by human fancy. 
 And this may certainly be done. And this 
 it is the poet's bufinef^ to do. And when 
 3 this
 
 Ch. in. AND MUSIC. 4.| 
 
 this is in any degree done by the hiftorian, 
 his narrative becomes in that degree poeti- 
 cal. 
 
 The pofTiblHty of thus improving upon 
 nature mud be obvious to every one. When 
 we look at a landfcape, we can fancy a thou- 
 fand additional embelhlliments. Mountains 
 loftier and more piclurefque ; rivers more 
 copious, more limpid, and more beautifully 
 winding ; fmoother and wider lawns ; vallies 
 more richly diverlified ; caverns and rocks 
 more gloomy and more ftupendous ; ruins 
 more majeflic ; buildings more magnificent ; 
 oceans more varied with iilands, more fplen- 
 did with lliipping, or more agitated by ftorm, 
 than any we have ever feen, it is eafy for hu- 
 man imagination to conceive. Many things 
 in art and nature exceed expectation ; but 
 nothing fenfible tranfcends, or equals, the ca- 
 pacity of thought : — a ftriking evidence of 
 the dignity of the human foul ! The fineft 
 woman in the world appears to every eye 
 fufceptible of improvement, except perhaps 
 to that of her lover. No wonder, then, if in 
 poetry events can be exhibited more com- 
 pact, and of more pleahng variety, than 
 thofe delineated by the hiilorian, and fcenes 
 of inanimate nature more dreadful or more 
 lovelv, and human chara(fl:ers more fublime: 
 and more exquifite both in good and evil. 
 Yet flill let nature fupply the ground-work 
 and materials, as well as the ila.ndard, of 
 poetical fiction. The mod expert painters 
 
 Vol. II. G ^ ufe
 
 5© ONPOETRY Parr I, 
 
 ufe a layman, or other vifible figure, to di-^ 
 red their hand and regulate their fancy. Ho- 
 mer himfelf founds his two poems on au- 
 thentic tradition ; and Tragic as well as Epic 
 poets have foUawed the example. The wri- 
 ters of romance too are ambitious to inter- 
 weave true adventures with their fables ; and, 
 when it can be conveniently done, to take 
 the outlines of their plan from real life. 
 Thus the ta?e of Robinfon Crufoe is founded 
 on an incident that actually befel one Alex- 
 ander Selkirk, a fea-faring man, who lived 
 feveral years alone in the illand of Juan Fer- 
 nandes ; Smollet is thought to have given 
 us feveral of his own adventures in the hL- 
 ftory of Roderick P».andom ; and the chief 
 chara6lers in Tom Jones, Jofeph Andrews, 
 and Pamela, are faid to have been copied 
 from real originals. — Dramatic Co-medy, in- 
 deed, is fur the moft part purely fidlitious ; 
 for if it were to exhibit real events as well 
 as prefent manners, it would become too 
 perfonal to be endured by a well-bred au- 
 dience, and degenerate into downright abufe ; 
 which appears to have been the cafe with the 
 old comedy of the Greeks *. — But, in gene- 
 ral, hints taken from real exiflence wall be 
 found to give no little grace and ftability 
 to fi(5lion, even in the moil; fanciful poems. 
 Thofe hints, however, may be improved by 
 
 * Compare Hor. lib. t. fat. 4. verf. i.— 5. with Ar. 
 Poet. verf. 281. — 285. 
 
 the
 
 Ch. III. A N D M U S I C. 51 
 
 the poet's imagination, and fet off with eve- 
 ry probable ornament that can be devifed, 
 confiftently with the deCign and genius of the 
 work ; — or, in other words., with the fym- 
 pathies that the poet means to av^aken in the 
 mind of his reader. For mere poetical orna- 
 ment, when it fails to intereft the affecftions, 
 is net only iifelefs but improper; all true 
 poetry being addreffed to the heart, and in- 
 tended to give pleafure by raifing or foothing 
 the pafTions ; — the only effe<^ual way of 
 pleaiing a rational and moral creature. And 
 therefore I would take Horace's maxim to 
 be univerfal in poetry ; *' Non fatis eft, pul- 
 *' chra efTe poemata ; diilcia funto;" *' It is 
 " not enough that poems be beautiful ; let 
 *' them alfo be affetting'^ — for that this is 
 the meaning of the word dulcia in this place, 
 is admitted by the beft interpreters, and is 
 indeed evident from the context *. 
 
 That the fentiments and feelings of perci- 
 pient beings, wlien expreiTed in poetry, 
 Ihould call forth our affedions, is natural 
 enough; but can defcriptions of inanimate 
 things alfo be made affedling ? Certainly they 
 can : and the more they affe<5l, the more 
 they pleafe us ; and the more poetical we 
 allow them to be. Virgil's Georgic is a noble 
 fpecimen (and indeed the nobleft in the 
 world) of this fort of poetry. His admira- 
 tion of external nature gains upon a read- 
 
 * Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. 95. — 100. 
 
 G 3 cr
 
 5^ ONPOETRY Part T. 
 
 er of tafte, till it rife to perfe6l enthtifiafm. 
 The following obfervations will perhaps ex- 
 plain this matter. 
 
 Every thing in nature is complex in itfelf, 
 and bears innumerable relations to other 
 things ; and may therefore be viewed in an 
 endlefs variety of lights, and confequcntly 
 defcribed in an endlefs variety of v/ays. 
 Some defcriptions arc good, and others bad. 
 An hiflorical defcription, that ennmerates all 
 the qualities of any objecl, is certainly good, 
 becaufe it is true ; but may be as unafFecfl^ 
 ing as a logical definition. In poetry no un- 
 affedling defcription is good, however con-^ 
 formable to trutii ; for here we expect not a 
 complete enumeration of qualities, (the chief 
 end of the art being to pleale), but only 
 fach an enumeration as may give a lively 
 and interelting idea. It is not memory, or 
 the knowledge of rules, that can qualify a 
 poet for this fort of defcription ; but a pecu- 
 liar liveiinefs of fancy and fenfibility of heart, 
 the nature whereof v:g may explain by its 
 cfFe61:s, but we cannot lay down rules &ir the 
 attainment of it. 
 
 When our mind is occupied by any emo- 
 tion, we naturally ufe words, and meditate 
 on things, that are fuitable to it, and tend 
 to encourage it. If a man were to write a 
 letter when he is very angry, there would 
 probably be fomcthing of vehemence or 
 bitternefs in the ftyle, even though the per- 
 i'pn to whom he wrote were not the objed: 
 
 of
 
 Ch. III. A N D M U S I C. 5;^ 
 
 of his anger. The fame thing holds true 
 of every other ftrong pafTion or emotion : — 
 while it predominates in tiie mind, it gives; 
 a peculiarity to our thoughts, as w^ell as to 
 our voice, gefture, and countenance : and 
 hence we expect, that every pcrfonage in- 
 troduced in poetry Ihould fee things through 
 the medium of his ruling pafTion, and that 
 his thoughts and language Ihould be tind:u- 
 red accordingly. A melancholy man walk- 
 ing in a grove, attends to thofe things that 
 fliit and encourage his melancholy ; the figh- 
 ing of the wind in the trees, the murinur- 
 ing of waters, the darknefs and foiitude of 
 the {hades : a chearful man in the fame place, 
 finds many fubje6ts of chearful meditation, 
 in the finging of birds, the hnfk motions of 
 the babling ftream, and the livelinefs and va- 
 riety of the verdure. Perfons of different 
 charadlers, contemplating the fame thing, a 
 Roman triumph, for inflance, feel different 
 emotions, and turn their view to different 
 objecfts. One is filled with Vv'onder at fuch a 
 difplay of wealth and power ; another exults 
 in the idea of conqueft, and pants for mili- 
 tary renown ; a third, dunned with clamour, 
 and haraffed with confufion, wifiies for fi- 
 lence, fecurity, and foiitude ; one melts with 
 pity to the vanquiihed, and makes many a 
 lad refledlion upon the infignificance of world- 
 ly grandeur, and the uncertainty of human 
 things ; while the buffoon, and perhaps the 
 philofopher, confiders the whole as a vain 
 
 piece
 
 54 ONPOETRY Part L 
 
 piece of pageantry, which, by its folemn 
 procedure, and by the admiration of fo 
 many people, is only rendered the more ri- 
 diculous : — and each of thefe perfons would 
 defcribe it in a way fuit^ble to his own feel- 
 ings, and tending to raife the fame in o- 
 thers. We fee in Milton's Allegro and Pen- 
 ferofo, how a ditFerent caft of mind produces 
 a variety in the manner of conceiving and 
 contemplating the fame rural fcenery. In 
 the former of thefe excellent poems, the au- 
 thor perfonates a chearful man, and takes 
 notice of thofe things in external nature that 
 are fuitable to chearful thoughts, and tend 
 to encourage them ; in the latter, every ob- 
 jecfl defcribed is ferious and folemn, and 
 productive of calm reflection and tender me- 
 lancholy : and 1 Ihould not be ealily perfua- 
 ded, . that Milton wrote the firft imder the 
 influence of forrow, or the fecond under 
 that of gladnefs. — We often fee an author's 
 character in his works ; and if every author 
 were in earnell: when he writes, ■yve Ihould 
 ofcener fee it. Thomfon was a man of piety 
 and benevolence, and a warm admirer of 
 the beauties of nature; and every defcrip- 
 tion in his delightful poem on the Seafons 
 tends to raife the fame laudable affections 
 in his reader. The parts of nature that at- 
 tra(5t his notice are thofe which an impious 
 or hardhearted man would neither attend to 
 nor be aflected with, at lealt in the fame man- 
 ner. In Sv/ift we fee a turn of mind very 
 
 different
 
 Gh. IIL A N D M tr S T C. 5^ 
 
 different from that of the amiable Thomfon ; 
 little relifh for the fublime or beautiful, and 
 a perpetual fucceflion of violent emotions. 
 All his picflures of human life feem to iliow, 
 that deformity and meannefs were the fa- 
 vourite objedls of his attention, and that his 
 foul was a conftant prey to indignation *, 
 difguft, and other gloomy paffions arifing 
 from fuch a view of things. And it is the 
 tendency of almoft all his writings (though 
 it was not always the author's defign) to 
 communicate the fame paiTions to his reader : 
 infomuch, that, notwithftanding his erudi- 
 tion, and knowledge of the world, his abili- 
 ties as a popular orator and man of bufinefs, 
 the energy of his ftyle, the elegance of fome 
 of his verfes, and his extraordinary talents 
 in wit and humour, there is reafon to doubt, 
 whether by ftudying his works any perfon 
 was ever much improved in piety or benevo- 
 lence. 
 
 And thus we fee, how the compofitions of 
 an ingenious author may operate upon the 
 heart, whatever be the fubjed:. The af- 
 fedlions that prevail in the author himfelf 
 direcfl his attention to objects congenial, and 
 give a peculiar bias to his inventive powers, 
 and a peculiar colo-uf to his language. Hence 
 
 * For part of this remark we have his own authority, 
 often in his letters, and very explicitly in the Latin 
 Epitaph which he compofed for himfelf: — *' ubi freva 
 *' indignatio ulterius cor lacerare nequit." See his laji 
 tuiU and tejlament. 
 
 his
 
 56 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 his work, as well as face, if Nature is per-, 
 mitted to exert herfelf freely in it, will ex- 
 hibit a picture of his mind, and awaken cor- 
 refpondent fympathies in the reader. When 
 thefe are favourable to virtue, which they 
 always ought to be, the work will have 
 that Jijueet pathos which Horace alludes to in 
 the pafTage above mentioned ; and which we 
 fo highly admire, and io warmly approve, 
 even in thofe parts of the Georgic that de- 
 fcribe inanimate nature. 
 
 Horace's account of the matter in que-' 
 flion differs not from what is here given, 
 *' It is not enough," fiys he, *' that poems 
 *' be beautiful; let them be affe(5ting, and 
 ** agitate the mind with whatever paffions 
 *' the poet willies to impart. The human 
 " countenance, as it fmiles on thofe who 
 " fmile, accompanies alfo with fympathetic 
 *' tears thofj who mourn. If you would 
 *' have me weep, you mufl hrft weep your- 
 *' felf; then, and not before, Ihall 1 be 
 " touched with your misfortunes. — For na- 
 *' ture Jhji makes the emotions of our mind 
 " correfpond with our circumflances, infu- 
 *' fing real joy, forrow, or refentment, ac- 
 *' cording to the occafion ; and aftevuuards 
 ** gives the true pathetic utterance to the 
 " voice and language *."- — This do(flrine, 
 which concerns the orator and the player no 
 lefs than the poet, is flridly philofbphical, 
 
 ' Ar, Poet. verf. 99. — in. 
 
 I and
 
 Ch. Iir. A N D M U S I C. 57 
 
 and equally applicable to dramatic, to de- 
 fcriptive, and indeed to everj^ fpecies of in- 
 terefting poetry. The poet's feniibility muil 
 firft of all engage him warmly in his fubjed, 
 and in every part of it; otherwife he will 
 labour in vain to intereil: the reader. If 
 he would paint external nature, as Virgil 
 and Thomfon have done, fb as to make 
 her amiable to others, he mull firft be en- 
 amoured of her himfelf ; if he would have 
 his heroes and heroines fpeak the language 
 of love or forrow, devotion or courage, am- 
 bition or anger, benevolence or pity, his 
 heart mud be fufceptible of thofe emotions, 
 and in fome degree feel them, as long at 
 leaft as he employs himfelf in framing words 
 for them ; being alfured, that 
 
 He bed Ihall paint them who can feel them mofl ^\ 
 
 The true poet, therefore, mufl: not only ftu- 
 dy nature, and know the reality of things ; 
 but muft alfo pofTefs fancy, to invent addi- 
 tional decorations ; judgement, to direct 
 him in the choice of fuch as accord with 
 verifimilitude ; and fenfibility, to enter with 
 ardent emotions into every part of his fub- 
 jedl, fo as to transfufe into his work a pa- 
 thos and energy fafficient to raife correfpond- 
 ing emotions in the reader. 
 
 " The hiftorian and the poet," fays Ari- 
 
 * Pope's Elolfa, verf. 366. 
 
 Vol. II. H flotle^
 
 58 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 flotle, " differ in this, that the former exhi- 
 *' bits things as they are, the latter as they 
 " might be*:" — I fuppofe he means, in 
 that flate of perfe(5lion which is confident 
 with probabiUty, and in which, for the fake 
 of our own gratification, we wifh to find 
 them. If the poet, after all the hberties he 
 is allowed to take with the truth, can pro- 
 duce nothing more exquifite than is com- 
 monly to be met with in hiflory, his read- 
 er will be difappointed and diffatisfied. Poe- 
 tical reprefentations muft therefore be fra- 
 med after a pattern of the highefl probable 
 perfedlion that the genius of the work will 
 admit: — external nature mull in them be 
 more pi(5lurefque than in reality ; adlion 
 more animated ; fentiments more expreffive 
 of the feelings and charadler, and more 
 fuitable to the circumflances of the fpeaker ; 
 perfonages better accomplifhed in thofe qua- 
 lities that raife admiration, pity, terror, and 
 other ardent emotions ; and events, more 
 compact, more clearly connecled with caufes 
 and confequences, and unfolded in an order 
 more flattering to the fancy, and more in- 
 terefling to the pafTions. But where, it may 
 be faid, is this pattern of perfection to be 
 found ? Not in real nature ; otherwife hi- 
 flory, which delineates real nature, would 
 alfo delineate this pattern of perfection. It 
 is to be found only in the mind of the poet ; 
 
 * Poetic, feet. 9» 
 
 and
 
 Ch. III. A N D M U S I C. 59 
 
 and it is imagination, regulated by know- 
 ledge, that enables him to form it. 
 
 In the beginning of life, and while expe- 
 rience is confined to a fmall circle, we ad- 
 mire every thing, and are pleafed with very 
 moderate excellence. A peafant thinks the 
 hall of his landlord the fineft apartment in 
 the univerfe, liflens with rapture to the ilrol- 
 ling ballad-finger, and wonders at the rude 
 wooden cuts that adorn his ruder compofi^ 
 tions. A child looks upon his native vil- 
 lage as a town ; upon the brook that runs 
 by, as a river ; and upon the meadows and 
 hills in the neighbourhood, as the moft 
 fpacious and beautiful that can be. But 
 when, after long abfence, he returns in his 
 declining years, to vifit, once before he die, 
 the dear fpot that gave him birth, and thofe 
 fcenes whereof he remembers rather the ori- 
 ginal charms than the exadl proportions, 
 how is he difappointed to find every thing fo 
 debafed, and fo diminiflicd ! The hills feem 
 to have funk into the groundj the brook to 
 be dried up, and the village to be forfaken 
 of its people; the parifh-church, ftripped 
 of all its fancied magnificence, is become 
 low, gloomy, and narrow^ and the fields are 
 now only the miniature of what they were. 
 Had he never left this fpot, his notions might 
 have remained the fame as at firft ; and had 
 he travelled but a little way from it, they 
 would not perhaps have received any mate- 
 ria] enlargement. It feems then to be from 
 H 2 obfervation-
 
 6.0 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 obfervation of many things of the fame or 
 fimilar kinds, that we acquire the talent of* 
 forming ideas more perfecfl than the real 
 objects that he immediately around us : and 
 thefe ideas we may improve gradually more 
 and miore, according to the vivacity of our 
 mind, and extent of OTir experience, till at 
 lafl we come to raife them to a degree of 
 perfection iliperior to any thing to be found 
 in real life. There cannot, fure, be any 
 myftery in this doclrine ; for we think and 
 fpeak to the fame purpofe every day. Thus 
 nothing is more common than to fay, that 
 fuch an artift excels all we have ever known 
 in his profelTion, and yet that we can {till 
 conceive a fuperior performance. A mora- 
 lift, by bringing together into one view the 
 fcparate virtues of many perfons, is enabled 
 to lay down a fyftem of duty more perfect 
 than any he has ever fcen exemplified in hu- 
 man conducfl. Whatever be the emotion the 
 poet intends to raife in his reader, whe- 
 ther admiration or terror, joy or forrow ; 
 and whatever be the objecl he would ex- 
 hibit, whether Venus or Tiliphone, Achilles 
 or Theriites, a palace or a pile of ruins, a 
 (lance or a battle ; he generally copies an 
 idea of his own imagination ; conlidering 
 each quPclity as it is found to exift in feve- 
 ral individuals of a ipecies, and thence form- 
 ing an afTemblage more or lefs perfecft in its 
 kind, according to the purpofe to which he 
 means to apply it. 
 
 Hence
 
 Ch. III. A N D M U S I C. ^i 
 
 Hence it would appear, that the ideas of 
 Poetry are rather general than fingular; ra- 
 ther collecSted from the examination of a 
 fpecies or clafs of things, than copied from 
 an individual. And this, according to Ari- 
 ftotle, is in facfl the cafe, at leaft for the 
 moft part; whence that critic determines, 
 that Poetry is fomething more exquifite and 
 more philofophical than hiftory *. The hi- 
 ftorian may defcribe Bucephalus, but the 
 poet delineates a war-horfe ; the former mufl 
 have feen the animal he fpeaks of, or received 
 authentic information concerning it, if he 
 mean to defcribe it hiftorically ; for the lat- 
 ter it is enough that he has feen feveral ani- 
 mals of that fort. The former tells us, what 
 Alcibiades actually did and faid ; the latter, 
 what fuch a fpecies of human character as 
 that which bears the name of Achilles would 
 probably do or fay in certain given circum- 
 ftances. 
 
 It is indeed true, that the poet may, and 
 often does, copy after individual objecfbs. 
 Homer, no doubt, took his characters from 
 the life ; or at lead, in forming them, was 
 careful to follow tradition as far as the na- 
 ture of his plan would allow. But he pro- 
 bably took the freedom to add or heighten 
 fome qualities, and take away others ; ta 
 make Achilles, for example, (Ironger, per- 
 haps, and more impetuous, and more enii- 
 
 * Poetic, fed. 9. 
 
 neat
 
 62 ONPOETRY Part L 
 
 nent for filial afFecflion, and Hecftor more pa- 
 triotic and more amiable, than he really wasi 
 If he had not done this, or fomething like 
 it, his work would have been rather a hiflory 
 than a poem ; would have exhibited men and 
 things as they were, and not as they might 
 have been ; and Achilles and Hector would 
 have been the names of individual and real 
 heroes ; whereas, according to Ariftotle, they 
 are rather to be confidered as two diflindl 
 modifications or fpecies of the heroic cha- 
 
 radler. Shakefpeare's account of the cliffs 
 
 of Dover comes fo near the truth, that w^er 
 cannot doubt of its having been written by 
 one who had feen them : but he who takes 
 it for an exacfl hiflorical defcription, will be 
 furprifed when he comes to the place, and 
 finds thofe cliffs not half fo lofty as the poet 
 had made him believe. An hiitorian would 
 be to blame for fuch amplification ; becaufe, 
 being to defcribe an individual precipice, he 
 ought to tell ub jufl what it is ; which if he 
 did, the defcription would fuit that place, 
 and perhaps no other in the wdiole world. 
 But the poet means only to give an idea of 
 what fuch a precipice may be; and therefore 
 his defcription may perhaps be equally ap- 
 plicable to many fuch chalky precipices on 
 the fea-iliore. 
 
 This method of copying after general ideas 
 formed by the artifl from obfervation of ma- 
 ny individuals, diflinguifhes the Italian, and 
 all the fublime painters, from the Dutch, and 
 
 their
 
 Ch. III. A N D M U S I C. 63 
 
 their imitators. Thcfe give us bare nature, 
 with the imperfe6lions and peculiarities of 
 individual things or perfons ; but thofe give 
 nature improved as far as probability and the 
 delign of the piece v^ill admit. Teniers and 
 Hogarth draw faces, and figures, and dreiTes, 
 from real life, and prefent manners ; and 
 therefore their pieces mud in fome degree 
 lofe the efFe(5l, and become aukward, when 
 the prefent fafliions become obfolete. — Ra- 
 phael and Reynolds take their models from 
 general na.ture; avoiding, as far as polTible, 
 (at lead in all their great performances), 
 thofe peculiarities that derive their beauty 
 from mere fafhion ; and therefore their works 
 iTiuft give pleafure, and appear elegant, as 
 long as m.en are capable of forming general 
 ideas, and of judging from them. The laft- 
 mentioned incom.parable artift is particular- 
 ly obfervant of children, whofe looks and 
 attitudes, being lefs under the control of art 
 and local inanners, are more characfteriifical 
 of the fpecies, than thofe of men and vv'-o- 
 men. This field of obfervation has fupplied 
 him with many fine figures, particularly that 
 mod exquifite one of Comedy, ftruggling for 
 and winning (for who could refiil her !) 
 the afleclions of Garrick : — a figure which 
 could never have occurred to the imagina- 
 tion of a painter who had confined his viewa 
 to grown perfons looking and moving in all 
 the formality of polite life: — a figure which 
 in all ages and countries would be pronoun^
 
 64 ONPOETRY Pare I. 
 
 ced natural and engaging ; — whereas thofe 
 human forms that we fee every day bowing, 
 and courtefying, and flrutting, and turning 
 out their toes, Jecundum artem^ and dreffed in 
 ruffles, and wigs, and flounces, and hoop- 
 petticoats, and full-trimmed fuits, would ap- 
 pear elegant no further than the prefent fa- 
 ihions are propagated, and no longer thab 
 they remain unaltered. 
 
 I have heard it difputed, whether a por- 
 trait ought to be habited according to the 
 fafhion of the times, or in one of thofe drelles 
 which, on account of their elegance, or ha- 
 ving been long in ufe, are affected by great 
 painters, and therefore called pidlurefque. 
 The queftion may be determined upon the 
 principles here laid down. If you wifli to 
 have a portrait of your friend, that fhall al- 
 ways be elegant, and never aukward, chufe 
 a picflurefque drefs. But if you mean to 
 preferve the remembrance of a particular fuit 
 of cloaths, without minding the ridiculous 
 figure which your friend will probably cut 
 in it a hundred years hence, you may ar- 
 ray his picture according to the fafliion. The 
 hiflory of dreiTes may be worth preferving : 
 but who w^ould have his image fet up, for 
 the purpofe of hanging a coat or periwig up- 
 on it, to gratify the curiofity of antiquarian 
 tailors or wigmakers ? 
 
 There is, in the progrefs of human fo- 
 
 ciety, as well as of human life, a period to 
 
 which it is of great importance for the 
 
 z liigher
 
 Ch. III. AND MUSIC; 65 
 
 higher order of poets to attend, and from 
 which they will do well to take their cha- 
 rad:ers, and manners, and the era of their 
 events ; I mean, that wherein men are rai fed 
 above favage life, and confiderably impro- 
 ved by arts, government, and converfation ; 
 but not advanced fo high in the afcent to- 
 wards politenefs, as to have acquired a habit 
 of difguiling their thoughts and pafTions, 
 and of reducing their behaviour to the uni- 
 formity of the mode. Such was the period 
 which Homer had the good fortune (as a 
 poet) to live in, and to celebrate. This is 
 the period at which the manners of men 
 are moft pidlurefque, and their adventures 
 mod romantic. This is the period when the 
 appetites, unperverted by luxury, the powers 
 unenervated by effeminacy, and the thoughts 
 difengaged from artificial reflraint, will, in 
 perfons of fimilar difpofitions and circum- 
 ilances, operate in nearly the fame way ; and 
 when, confequently, the characters of parti- 
 cular men will approach to the nature of 
 poetical or general ideas, and, if well imi- 
 tated, give pleafure to the whole, or at leaft 
 to a great majority of mankind. But a cha- 
 ra(5ler tinctured with the fafhions of polite 
 life would not be fo generally interefling. 
 Like a human figure adjufted by a modern 
 dancing-mafler, and drefled by a modern 
 tailor, it may have a good efte(ft in fatire, 
 comedy, or farce ; but if introduced into 
 the higher poetry, it would be admired by 
 Vol. II. I thofe
 
 66 ONPOETRY Part T, 
 
 thofe only who had learned to admire no- 
 thing but prefent fafhions, and by them no 
 longer than the prefent fafhions lafted ; and 
 to all the reft of the world would appear 
 awkward, unafFedling, and perhaps ridicu- 
 lous. But Achilles and Sarpedon, Diomede 
 and He6lor, Neflor and Ulyfles, as drawn 
 by Homer, muft in all ages, independently 
 on falhion, command the attention and ad- 
 miration of mankind. Thefe have the qua- 
 lities that are univerfally known to belong 
 to human nature ; whereas the modern fine 
 gentleman is diftinguilhed by qualities that 
 belong only to a particular age, fociety, 
 and corner of the world. I fpeak not of 
 moral or intellecflual virtues, which are ob- 
 je(5ls of admiration to every age ; but of 
 thofe outward accomplifliments, and that 
 particular temperature of the paflions, which 
 form the mofl perceptible part of a human 
 
 character. As, therefore, the politician, 
 
 in difcuirmg the rights of mankind, muft 
 often alkide to an imaginary ftate of nature; 
 fo the poet who intends to raife admiration, 
 pitv, terror, and other important emotions, 
 in the generality of mankind, efpecially in 
 thofe readers whofe minds are moft impro- 
 ved, muft take his pidlures of life and man- 
 ners, rather from the heroic period we now 
 Ipeak of, than from the ages of refinement ; 
 and muft therefore (to repeat the maxim of 
 Ariftotle) " exhibit things, not as they are, 
 *' t>ut as they might be." 
 
 If,
 
 Ch. III. A N b M U S I C 67 
 
 If, then, there be any nations who enter- 
 tain fuch a partiality in favour of one fy- 
 ftem of artificial manners, that they cannot 
 endure any other fyftem, either artificial or 
 natural ; may we: not fairly conclude, that 
 in thofe nations Epic poetry will not flou- 
 rifh ? How far this may account for any 
 peculiarities in the tafte and literature of a 
 neighbouring nation *, is fubmittcd to the 
 reader. Were a man fo perverted by na- 
 ture, or by habit^ as to think no ftate of 
 the human body graceful, but what depends 
 on lace and fringe, powder and pomatum, 
 buckram and whalebone, I fhould not won- 
 der, if he beheld with diffatisfadlion the na- 
 ked majefty of the Apollo Belvidere, or the 
 flowing fimplicity of robe that arrays a Ci- 
 cero or Flora. But if one of his favourite 
 figures were to be carried about the world 
 in company with thefe ftatues, I believe the 
 general voice of mankind would not ratify 
 his judgement. Homer's limple manners 
 may difguft a TerrafFon, or a Cheflerfield ; 
 but will always pleafe the univerfal tafte, be- 
 caufe they are more pid:urefque in themfelves, 
 than any form of artificial ^manners can be, 
 
 * Je me fouviens, que loffque je confukai, fur ma 
 Henriade, feu M. de Malezieux, homme qui joignait 
 une grande imagination a une litterature immtnft:, il me 
 dit : Vous enterprenez un ouvrage qui n'cft pas fait 
 pour notre nation ; les Fran^ais n'ont pas la 
 
 TETE EPJQJTE. 
 
 Voltaire, Ejfai fur la fccfie epguCy chnp. 9. 
 
 I 2 and
 
 68 ON POETRY ParcL 
 
 and more! fuitable to thofe ideas of human 
 life which are moft famiUar to the human 
 mind. 
 
 Let it not be thought, that I have any 
 partiaUty to the tenets of thofe philofophers 
 who recommend the manners of the heroic 
 period, or even of the favage flate, as better 
 in a moral view, than thofe of our own 
 time ; or that I mean any reflection upon 
 the virtue or good fenfe of the age, when I 
 fpeak difrefpe(5tfully of fome fafhionable ar- 
 ticles of external decoration. Our drefs and 
 attitudes are not perhaps fo graceful as they 
 might be : but that is not our fault, for it 
 depends on caufes which are not in our 
 power : — that affecfls not the virtue of any 
 good man, and no degree of outward ele- 
 gance will ever reform the heart of a bad one : 
 and that is no more a proof of our ill tafte, 
 than the roughnefs of our language, or the 
 coldnefs of our climate. As a moralift, one 
 would eftimate the things of this life by 
 their influence on the next ; but I here fpeak 
 as a critic, and judge of things according to 
 their effects in the fine arts. Poetry, as an' 
 infl;rument of pleafure, gives the preference 
 to thofe things that have .mofl: variety, and 
 operate mofl: powerfully on the pafllons ; 
 and, as an art that conveys infl;ru(fl:ion ra- 
 ther by example than by precept, muft exhi- 
 bit evil as well as good, and vitious as well 
 as virtuous charadlers. That favages, and 
 heroes like thofe of Homer, may fleep found- 
 er ;
 
 Ch. III. A N D M U S I a 69 
 
 er ; and eat and drink, and perhaps fight, 
 with a keener appetite, than modern Euro- 
 peans ; that they may excel us in ftrength^ 
 fwiftnefs, and many forts of manual dex- 
 terity ; in a word, that they may be finer 
 animals than we; and further, that, being 
 fubjec^ to fewer reflraints both from virtue 
 and from delicacy, they may difplay a more 
 animated pi6lure of the undifguifed energies 
 of the human foul, I am very willing to al- 
 low : but I hold, that the manners of po- 
 liflied life are beyond comparifon more fa- 
 vourable to that benevolence, piety, and felf- 
 government, which are the glory of the Chri- 
 ftian charadter, and the higheft perfection of 
 our nature, as rational and immortal be- 
 ings. The former ftate of mankind I would 
 therefore prefer as the bed fubjecfl of Epic 
 and Tragic Poetry : but for fupplying the 
 means of real happinefs here, and of eternal 
 felicity hereafter, every man of reflecSlion, 
 unlefs blinded by hypothefis, or by pre- 
 judice, mufl give the preference to the lat- 
 ter. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 -j6 ONPOETRY Part t 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 The fubjedl; continued. Of Poetical 
 Charafters. 
 
 Or -ACE feems to think, that a compe- 
 tent knowledge of moral philofophy 
 will fit an author for affigning the fuitable 
 qualities and duties to each poetical perfo- 
 nage *. The maxim may be true, as far as? 
 mere morality is the aim of the poet ; but 
 cannot be underftood to refer to the delinea- 
 tion of poetical characflers in general : for 
 a thorough acquaintance with all the moral 
 philofophy in the world would not have ena- 
 bled Blackmore to paint fuch a perfonage as 
 Homer's Achilles, Shakefpeare's Othello, or 
 the Satan of Paradife Loft. To a competen- 
 cy of moral fcience, there muft be added 
 an extenfive knowledge of mankind, a warm 
 and elevated imagination, and the greateft 
 fenfibility of heart, before a genius can be 
 formed equal to fo difficult a tafli. Horace 
 is. indeed fo fenfible of the danger of introdu- 
 cing a new charadler in poetry, that he even: 
 difcourages the attempt, and advifes the poet 
 
 * Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. 309. — 316. 
 
 rather
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I C. 71 
 
 rather to take his perfons from the ancient 
 authors, or from tradition *". 
 
 To conceive the idea of a good man, and 
 to invent and fupport a great poetical cha- 
 radler, are two very different things, how- 
 ever they may feem to have been confound- 
 ed by fome late critics. The firft is eafy to 
 any perfon fufficiently inftrucfled in the du- 
 ties of Ufe; the lafl is perhaps of all the 
 efforts of human genius the moll difBcult ; fo 
 very diihcult, that, though attempted by 
 many. Homer, Shakefpeare, and Milton, are 
 almoft the only authors who have fucceeded 
 in it. But charadlers of perfecft virtue are 
 not the moft proper for poetry. It feems to 
 be agreed, that the Deity fhould not be in- 
 troduced in the machinery of a poetical 
 fable. To afcribe to him words and adlions 
 of our own invention, is in my judgement 
 very unbecoming ; nor can a poetical defcrip- 
 tion, that is knov>m to be, and muft of ne- 
 cefTity be, infinitely inadequate, ever fatisfy 
 the human mind f . Poetry, according to 
 
 the 
 
 * Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. 119. — 130. 
 
 f It is fomewhat amullng to obferve, what difTc^rent i- 
 deas our poets have entertained of the manner of fpeak- 
 ing that may be moll fuitable to the Divine Nature. Mil- 
 ton afcribes to him that mode of reafoning which in his 
 own age was thought to be the moft facred and moft 
 important. Cowley, in his Davideis, introduces the 
 Deity fpeaking in the Alexandrine meafure; from an o- 
 pinion, no doubt, that a hne of fix feet has more dig- 
 nity
 
 72 ONPOETRY Part ID 
 
 the beft critics, is an imitation of humanit 
 action; and therefore poetical charadlers, 
 though elevated, fhould ftill partake of the 
 paffions and frailties of humanity. If it were 
 not for the vices of fome principal perfonages, 
 the Iliad would not be either fo interefting or 
 fo moral : — the mod moving and moft e- 
 ventfal parts of the ^neid are thofe that 
 defcribe the effedls of unlawful paflion * : — 
 
 the 
 
 nity than one of five. Brown, on the contrary, in Tfrg 
 Cure of Saul, fuppofes him to fpeak in rhyming verfes 
 of three fyllables. And the author of Pre-exijience, a 
 Poemy in Dodfley's Colle£lion, thinks it more congruous, 
 that the Supreme Being fhould '* fet wide the fate of 
 ** things," in a fpeech *' majeftically long, repugnant to 
 ** all princes cuftoms here," &c. 
 
 * The deftruftion of Troy, the war with Turnus, and 
 the defpair and death of Dido, are here alluded to. 
 That the firft was owing to criminal paffion, is well 
 known. On the fate of Turnus and Dido, I beg leave 
 to offer a few remarks. 
 
 I. Turnus is a brave and gallant young prince : but 
 his difobedience to the will of Jupiter, as repeatedly de- 
 clared by oracles and prodigies whcx-eof he could not 
 mifunderfland the meaning, {JEneidy vii. verf. 104. & 
 596.), in perfifting to urge his claim to Lavinia, whom 
 Fate had deftined to be the wife of his rival, engages 
 him in the war which concludes with his death. We 
 pity his fall, of which, however, himfelf, with his dying 
 breath, acknowledges the juftice. Had he been lefs a- 
 miable, we fhould have been lefs interefted in his fate ; 
 had he been more virtuous, the poet muft either have 
 omitted the Italian war altogether, or brought it about 
 by means lefs probable perhaps, and lefs honourable to 
 the Trojans, and confequently to Rome. Piety to the 
 gods is every where xxconimended by Virgil as the firft 
 % and
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I C. 73 
 
 the moft inftrndlive tragedy in the world, I 
 mean Macbeth, is founded in crimes of 
 
 dreadful 
 
 and greateft hwtnaTi virtue, to which all other duties and 
 all other affeftions are to give place, when they happen 
 to be inconfiftent. 
 
 2. The loves of Ene;is and Dido are criminal on both 
 fides. By connecting kimfelF with this iinfortune queen, 
 with whom he knew that he could not, without difobe- 
 dience to the will of Heaven, remain, he is guilty, not 
 only of impiety, but alfo of a temporary neglcifl of duty 
 to his people as their leader and ibvereign : and Ihe, in 
 obtruding herfelf upon the Trojan prince, violates the 
 moft folemn vows, and afts a part of which ihc coul»d 
 not be ignorant, that it was incompatible with his deftiny; 
 for he had told her from the firft, that he was appointed 
 by Fate to fettle his Trojans in Italy, and to marry a wife 
 
 of that country. Mneid. ii. 781. Dido has many 
 
 great and many amiable qualities : yet the Poet blends 
 in her charafter fonie harfli ingredients ; with a view, no 
 doubt, partly to I'econcile us in fome meafure to her fad 
 cata.ftrophe, but chiefly to make her appear in the eyes 
 of his countrymen an adequate reprefentative of that peo- 
 ple, who had fo long been the objeA of their jealoufy 
 and hatred. Her paflion for Eneas is difrefpettful to 
 the gods, injurious to that prince and his followers, and 
 indecent in itfelf : flie is fomewhat libertine in her reli- 
 gious principles ; a Ihockjng circumftance in a lady, and 
 which to our pious poet muft have been peculiarly of- 
 fenfive : and her behaviour, when Eneas is going to 
 leave her, though fuiiable to a haughty princels under 
 the power of a paflion more violent than delicate, is not 
 at all what we Ihould expect from that foftncfs of na- 
 ture, and gentlenefs of affedtion, without which no wo- 
 man can be truly amiable. If we except her wifli for a 
 young Eneas, there is hardly one fentiment of feminine 
 tendernefs, in all her threats, complaints, and expoftu- 
 lations. Pride, felf-condemnation, and revenge, engrofs 
 her whole foul, and extinguifh every other thought ; 
 gnd flie concludes her life, by imprecating, with cool, 
 
 Vol. II. K but
 
 74 ONPOETRY Part h 
 
 dreadful enormity : — and if Milton had not 
 taken into his plan the fall of our firft pa- 
 rents, 
 
 but dreadful folemnity, perdition upon tlie fugitive 
 Ti-ojan, and mifery upon his people, and their defcend- 
 ents, for ever. 
 
 Virgil has been blamed for fome things in the conduct 
 of this part of the poem ; I know not with what good 
 reafon He was not obliged to give moral perfection to 
 his characters. That of Eneas, if it had been lefs perledt, 
 might perhaps have made the poem more animated ; but 
 then it would not have fuited the poet's main delign of 
 reconciling the Romans to the perfon and government of 
 Augufi:us, of whom Eneas is to be conlidered as the poe- 
 tical type. This hero does indeed, in attaching himfelf 
 to Dido, acl inconfiftently with his pious and p.ltriotic cha- 
 ra<5ler ; but his fault is human, and not without circum- 
 ftanccs of alleviation : and we muft not eftimate the mo- 
 rality of an aftion by its confequences, except where they 
 might have been forefeen. But he is no fooner i*epri- 
 mandcd by Mercury for his tranfgreffion, than he returns 
 to his duty, notwithftanding his liking to the country, 
 and his love for the lady, which now i'eems to be more 
 delicate, than hers for him. — t- But is not Dido's fault 
 alfo human, and attended alfo' with alleviating circum- 
 ftances ? — and if fo, is not her punifliment gi eater 
 than her crime .'' — Granting all this, it will not follow, 
 that Virgil is to blame. Poetry, if ftricl retributive ju- 
 ftice were always to be expected in it, would not be 
 an imit:aion of human life; and, as all its great e- 
 vents would be anticipated, and exaftly fu.h as we 
 wiih for, could melt or furprife us no longer. In faft, 
 unlawful love has, in every age, been attended with worfe 
 confequences to the weaker, than to the ftronger fex ; 
 not becaufe it is lefs unlawful in the one than in the o- 
 ther-, but that the former may be guarded by the ftrong- 
 eft motives of intereff, as well as of honour and duty ; 
 and the latter rtftrained by every princiole, not only of 
 confcicnce, but alio o' generofity and compaffion. Our 
 poet affigns to Dido, in the fliades below, one of the 
 
 kaft
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I G. 7^ 
 
 rents, as well as their flate of innocence, his 
 divine poem mufl have wanted much of its 
 
 leaft uncomfortable fituations in the region of moiirninr,\ 
 from whence, according to his fyftem, (fee the Ejjhy 
 on Truth, part ^. chap. 2.) after undergoing the necefiary 
 pains of purification, fhe was to pafs into Elyfium, and 
 enjoy the plealures of that Iiappy place for a thoufand 
 years ; and afterwards to be fent back to earth to ani- 
 mate another body, and thus have another opportunity 
 of rifing to virtue and happinefs by a fuitable behaviour. 
 
 Thofe incidents, and thofe only, are blameable in a 
 poem, which either hurt the main defign, or are in them- 
 ielves unnatural, infipid, or immoral. The epifode of 
 Dido, as Virgil has given it, is perfectly confonant with 
 his main defign ; for it fets his hero in a new light, and 
 raifes our idea of his perfonal accomplilhments ; and 
 muft have been particularly interefting to the Romans, 
 as it accounts for their jealoufy of Carthage, one of the 
 Xnoft important events in all their hiflory. Unnatural 
 or infipid this epifode cannot be called ; for it is with- 
 out doubt the fineft piece of poetry in the world : the 
 ■whole defcription of Dido's love, in every period of its 
 progrefs, from its commencement to its lamentable con- 
 clulion, is fublime, and harmonious, natural, pathetic, 
 and pidlurefque, to a degree which was never equalled, 
 and never can be furpafled. And who will objecl to the 
 morality of that fable, which recommends piety and pa- 
 triotifm as the moft indifpenfable duties of a Sovereign ; 
 and paints, in the moft terrifying colours, the fatal efFedts 
 of female imprudence, of oppofition to the will of Hea- 
 ven, of the violation of folemn vows, and the gratifica- 
 tion of cx-iminal delires ? 
 
 As to the part that Venus and Juno take in this affair, 
 againft which I have heard fome people exclaim; — it 
 is to be confidered as a poetical figure, of fufiicient pro 
 babilty in the days of Virgil ; and only fignifi^s, that 
 Dido was enfnared in this unhappy amour, firft by her 
 love, and then by her ambition. See her conference 
 with her fifter in the beginning of the fourth book. 
 
 ■ The reader who loves Virgil as much as I wifh him 
 
 to do, will not be offended at the length of this note. 
 
 K 2 pathos,
 
 76 ONPOETRY PartL 
 
 pathos, and could not have been (what it 
 n Av is) fuch a treafiire of important know- 
 ledge, as no other uninfpired writer ever com- 
 prehended in fo fmall a compafs. Vir- 
 tue, like truth, is uniform and unchange- 
 able. We may anticipate the part a good 
 man will a^l in any given circumflances ; 
 and therefore the events that depend on fuch 
 a man muft be lefs furpriling than thofe that 
 proceed from paiTion ; the viciffitudes where- 
 of it is frequently impofTible to forefee. 
 From the violent temper of Achilles, in the 
 Iliad, fpring many great incidents ; which 
 could not have taken place, if he had been 
 calm and prudent like UlylTes, or pious and 
 patriotic like Eneas : — - his rejecftion of A- 
 gimemnon's offers, in the ninth book, ari- 
 fes from the violence of his refentment ; — 
 his yielding to the requefl of Patroclus, in 
 the fixteenth, from the violence of his friend- 
 Ihip (if I may fo fpeak) countera(5ling hi& 
 refentment ; and his reftoring to Priam the 
 dead body of He6lor, in the twenty- fourth, 
 from the violence of his afPecflion to his own 
 aged father, and his regard to the commiand 
 of Jupiter, countera6ting, in fome meafure, 
 both his forrow for his friend, and his thiril 
 
 of vengemce. Belides, except where 
 
 there is fome degree of vice, it pains us too 
 exquifitely to fee misfortune ; and therefore 
 Poetry would ceafe to have a pleafurable in- 
 fluence over our tender paffions, if it were 
 to exhibit virtuous charadlers only. And as, 
 
 in
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I C. 77 
 
 in life, evil is necefTary to our moral pro- 
 bation, and the poflibility of error to our 
 intelledlual improvement ; fo bad or mixed 
 characlers are ufeful in poetry, to give to the 
 good fuch oppoiition as puts them upon dii^ 
 playing and exercifing their virtue. 
 
 AH thofe perfonages, however, in whofe 
 fortune the poet means that we fhould be 
 interefted, inufl have agreeable and admira- 
 ble qualities to recommend them to our re- 
 gard. And perhaps the greatefl difficulty in 
 the art lies in fuitably blending thofe faults, 
 which the poet finds it expedient to give to 
 any particular hero, with fuch moral, in- 
 tellecfbual, or corporeal accomplifliments, as 
 may engage our efteem, pity, or admiration, 
 without weakening our hatred of vice, or 
 love of virtue. In mofl of our novels, and 
 in many of our plays, it happens unlucki- 
 ly, that the hero of the piece is fo captiva- 
 ting, as to incline us to be indulgent to eve- 
 ry part of his charadler, the bad as well as 
 the good. But a great mailer knows how to 
 give the proper direction to human fenfi- 
 bility, and, without any perverfion of our 
 faculties, or any confufion of right and 
 wrong, to make the fame perfon the objedl 
 of very different emotions, of pity and ha- 
 tred, of admiration and horror. Who does 
 not efteem and admire Macbeth, for his cou- 
 rage and generofity ? who does not pity him 
 when befet with all the terrors of a preg- 
 jiant imagination, fuperltitious temper, and 
 
 awakened
 
 78 ONPOETRY Part L 
 
 awakened confcience ? who does not abhoi* 
 him as a monfter of cruelty, treachery, and 
 ingratitude ? His good qualities, by draw- 
 ing us near to him, make us, as it were^ 
 eye-witnefles of his crime, and give us a fel-* 
 low-feeling of his remorfe; ami, therefore, 
 his example cannot fail to have a powerful 
 efFed: in cherilhing our love of virtue, and 
 fortifying our minds againft criminal im- 
 preiTions : whereas, had he v^ranted thofe good 
 qualities, we f'lould have kept aloof from 
 his concerns, or viewed them with a fuper- 
 iicial attention ; in which cafe his example 
 would have had little more weight, than 
 that of the robber, of whom we know no- 
 thing, but that he was tried, condemned, 
 and executed. — Satan, in Paradife Loft, is a 
 charadier drawn and fupported with the 
 mod confummate judgement. The old fu- 
 ries and demons, Hecate^ Tifiphone, Aleclo, 
 Megara, are objecfbs of unmixed and unmi- 
 tigated abhorrence ; Tityus, Enceladus, and 
 their brethren, are remarkable for nothing 
 but impiety, deformity, and vaftnefs of 
 fize ; Pluto is, at befl, an infipid perfonage ; 
 Mars, a hairbrained ruffian ; Taflo's infer- 
 nal tyrant, an ugly and overgrown mon- 
 fler : — but in the Miltonic Satan, we are 
 forced to admire the majefty of the ruined 
 archangel, at the fame time that we deteft 
 the unconquerable depravity of the fiend. 
 But, of all poetical charadters, the Achilles 
 
 of
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I C. 79 
 
 of Homer * feems to me the moft exquifitc 
 in the invention, and the moft highly finiih- 
 ed. The utility of this charadler in a mo- 
 ral view is obvious ; for it may be confider- 
 ed as the fource of all the morality of the 
 Iliad. Had not the generous and violent 
 temper of Achilles determined him to patro- 
 nife the augur Calchas in defiance of Aga- 
 memnon, and afterwards, on being affront- 
 ed by that viiidiclive commander, to aban- 
 don for a time the common caufe of Greece; 
 — the fatal effects of diffenfion among con- 
 federates, and of capricious and tyrannical 
 behaviour in a fovereigu, would not have 
 been the leading moral of Homer's poetry ; 
 nor could Hector, Sarpedon, Eneas, Ulyffes, 
 and the other amiable heroes, have been 
 brought forward to fignalize their virtues, 
 and recommend themfelves to the efteem and 
 imitation of mankind. 
 
 They who form their judgement of Achil- 
 les from the imperfect Iketch given of him 
 
 * I fay, the Acliilles of Homer. Litter authors have 
 degraded the character of this hero, by iuppofing every 
 part of his body invulnerable except the heel. 1 know 
 not how often I have heard this urged as one of Homer's 
 abfurdities ; and indeed the whole Iliad is one continued 
 abfurJity, on this fuppoGtion. But Homer all along 
 makes his hero equally liable to wounds and death with 
 other men. Niy, to prevent all miftakes in regard to 
 this matter, (if thofe vho cavil at the poet would but 
 read his work), he adlually wounds him in the right 
 arm, by the lance of Afteropoeus, in the battle near 
 the river Scamander. See II. xxi. verf. i6i. — i68. 
 
 by
 
 8o ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 by Horace in the Art of Poetry * ; and con- 
 lider him only as a hateful compofition of 
 anger, revenge, fiercenefs, obftinacy, and 
 pride, can never enter into the views of Ho- 
 mer, nor be fuitably afFedled with his narra- 
 tion. All thefe vices are no doubt, in fome 
 degree, combined in Achilles ; but they are 
 tempered with qualities of a different fort, 
 which render him a moft interefting charac- 
 ter, and of courfe make the Iliad a mofl in- 
 terefting poem. Every reader abhors the 
 faults of this hero; and yet, to an attentive 
 reader of Homer, this hero mufl be the ob^ 
 jecl of efteem, admiration, and pity ; for 
 he has many good as well as bad affecflions, 
 and is equally violent in all : — nor is he 
 poffeffed of a (ingle vice or virtue, which 
 the wonderful art of the poet has not made 
 fubfervient to the defign of the poem, and 
 to the progrefs and cataftrophe of the ac- 
 tion ; fo that the hero of the Iliad, confi- 
 dered as a poetical perfonage, is juft what he 
 fliould be, neither greater nor lefs, neither 
 worfe nor better. — He is every where dif^ 
 tinguifhed by an abhorrence of oppreffion, 
 by a liberal and elevated mind, by a pallion 
 for glory, and by a love of truth, freedom, 
 and fincerity. He is for the moft part at- 
 tentive to the duties of religion ; and, ex- 
 cept to thofe who have injured him, cour- 
 teous and kind : he is affectionate to his tu^ 
 
 * VClf. 121. 122. 
 
 I tor
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I G. 8i 
 
 tor Phenix ; and not only pities the misfor- 
 tunes of his enemy Priam, but in the mod 
 foothing manner adminiflers to him the befh 
 confolation that poor Homer's theology could 
 furnifli. Though no admirer of the caufe 
 in which his evil defliny compels him to en- 
 gage, he is warmly attached to his native 
 land ; and, ardent as he is in vengeance, he 
 is equally fo in love to his aged father Peleus, 
 and to his friend Patroclus. He is not luxu- 
 rious like Paris, nor clownifli like Ajax ; 
 his accompliiliments are princely, and his 
 amufements worthy of a hero. Add to this, 
 as an apology for the vehemence of his an- 
 ger, that the affront he had received was 
 (according to the manners of that age) of 
 the mofl atrocious nature ; and not only un- 
 provoked, but fuch as, on the part of Aga- 
 memnon, betrayed a brutal infenfibility to 
 merit, as well as a proud, felfilh, ungrate- 
 ful, and tyrannical difpofition. And though 
 he is often inexcufeably furious ; yet it is 
 but juftice to remark, that he was not natu- 
 rally cruel * ; and that his wildeft outrages 
 were fuch as in thofe rude times might be 
 expecfled from a violent man of invincible 
 ftrength and valour, when exafperated by 
 
 * See Iliad xxi. loo. and xxiv. 485. — 673. — — In 
 the firfl: of thefe paflages, Achilles himfelf declares, 
 that before Patroclus was (lain, he often fpared the lives 
 of his enemies, and took pleafurs in doing it. It is 
 ftrange that this iiiould be left out iu Pope's Tranflation. 
 
 Vol. 11. L ii^j^iy*
 
 8^ ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 injury, and frantic with forrow. Our 
 
 hero's claim to the admiration of mankind is 
 indifputable. Every part of his charadler is 
 fubUme and afloniftiing. In his perfon, he 
 is the flrongeft, the fwifteft, and mod beau- 
 tiful of men : — this laft circumftance, how- 
 ever, occurs not to his own obfervation, be- 
 ing too trivial to attracfl the notice of fo great 
 a mind. The Fates had put it in his power, 
 either to return home before the end of the 
 war, or to remain at Troy : — if he chofe 
 the former, he would enjoy tranquillity and 
 happinefs in his own country to a good old 
 age ; if the latter, he muft perifli in the 
 bloom of his youth : — his affedlion to his 
 father and native country, and his hatred to 
 Agamemnon, ftrongly urged him to the firft ; 
 but a defire to avenge the death of his friend 
 determines him to accept the lafl, with all 
 its confequences. This at once difplays the 
 greatnefs of his fortitude, the warmth of 
 his friendfhip, and the violence of his fangui- 
 nary paiTions : and it is this that fo often 
 and fo powerfully recommends him to the 
 pity, as well as admiration, of the attentive 
 
 reader. But the magnanimity of this 
 
 hero is fuperior, not only to the fear of death, 
 but alfo to prodigies, and thofe too of the 
 mofl tremendous import. I allude to the 
 fpeech of his horfe Xanthus, in the end of 
 the nineteenth book, and to his behaviour 
 on that occafion ; and I fhall take the liberty 
 to expatiate a little upon that incident, with
 
 dh. IV. A N D M U S I C. 83 
 
 a view to vindicate Homer, as well as to il- 
 luflrate the charader of Achilles. 
 
 The incident is marvellous, no doubt, and 
 has been generally condemned even by the 
 admirers of Homer ; yet to me, who am no 
 believer in the infallibility of the great poet, 
 feems not only allowable, but ufeful and 
 important. That this miracle has probabi- 
 lity enough to warrant its admifTion into 
 Homer s poetry, is fully proved by Madame 
 Dacier. It is the effedl of Juno's power; 
 which if we admit in other parts of the poem^ 
 we ought not to reject in this : and in the 
 poetical hiftory of Greece, and even in the 
 civil hiftory of Rome, there are fimilar fables, 
 which were once in no fmall degree of cre- 
 dit. But neither M. Dacier, nor any other 
 of the commentators, (fo far as I know), has 
 taken notice of the propriety of introducing 
 it in this place, nor of its utility in railing 
 
 our idea of the hero. Patroclus was now 
 
 flain; and Achilles, forgetting the injury he 
 had received from Agamemnon, and frantic 
 with revenge and forrow, was rufliing to the 
 battle, to fatiate his fury upon Hector and 
 the Trojans. This was the critical moment 
 on which his future deftiny depended. It 
 was ftill in his power to retire, and go home 
 in peace to his beloved father and native 
 land, with the certain profpecfl of a long 
 and happy, though inglorious, life : if he 
 went forward to the battle, he might a- 
 venge his friend's death upon the enemy, 
 • L 2 but
 
 §4 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 but his own mufl inevitably happen foon 
 after. This was the decree of Fate concern- 
 ing him, as he himfelf very well knew. But 
 it would not be wonderful, if fuch an im- 
 petuous fpirit fhould forget all this, during 
 the prefent paroxyfm of his grief and rage. 
 His horfe, therefore, miraculoufly gifted by 
 Juno for that purpofe, after expreffing, in 
 dumb fliow, the deepeil concern for his lord, 
 opens his mouth, and in human fpeech an- 
 nounces his approaching fate. The fear of 
 death, and the fear of prodigies, are differ- 
 ent things ; and a brave man, though proof 
 againil the one, may yet be overcome by 
 the other. " I have known a foldier (fays 
 *' Addifon) that has entered a breach, af- 
 *' frip-hted at his own iliadow; and look 
 *' pale upon a little fcratching at his door, 
 *' who the day before had marched up againft 
 *' a battery of cannon *." But Achilles, of 
 whom we already knew that he feared no- 
 thing human, nov/ fhows, what we had not 
 as yet been informed of, and what mufl 
 therefore heighten our idea of his fortitude, 
 that he is not to be terrified or moved, by the 
 view of certain deftrudlion, or even by the 
 moft alarming prodigies. I fhall quote Pope's 
 Tranilation, which in this place is equal, if 
 not fuperior, to the original. 
 
 Then ceas'd for ever, by the Furies tied, 
 His fateful voice. Th' intrepid chief replied, 
 
 * Spedlator, Numb. 12. 
 
 With
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I C. 85 
 
 With unabated rage : " So let it be ! 
 Portents and prodigies are loft on me. 
 I know my fate ; — to die, to fee no more 
 My much-loved parents, and my native fliore. 
 Enough : — when Heaven ordains, I fmk in night.-— 
 Now perifti, Troy." He faid, and rufh'd to fight. 
 
 It is equally a proof of rich invention and 
 cxacfl judgement in Homer, that he mixes 
 fome good qualities in all his bad charac- 
 ters, and fome degree of imperfection in al- 
 
 moft all his good ones. Agamemnon, 
 
 notwithftanding his pride, is an able gene- 
 ral, and a valiant man, and highly efteemed 
 
 as fuch by the greater part of the army. 
 
 Paris, though effeminate, and vain of his 
 drefs and perfon, is, however, good-natu- 
 red, patient of reproof, not dellitute of cou- 
 rage, and eminently ikilled in mufic, and 
 
 other fine arts. Ajax is a huge giant; 
 
 fearlefs rather from infenlibility to danger, 
 and confidence in his mafiy arms, than from 
 any nobler principle; boaftful and rough; 
 regardlefs of the gods, though not downright 
 impious * : yet there is in his manner fbme- 
 
 * His natural bluntnefs appears jn that fhort, but fa- 
 mous addrefs, to Jupiter, in the nineteenth book, when 
 a preternatural darknefs hindered him from feeing ei- 
 ther the enemy or his own people. The prayer Teems 
 to be the effedl rather of vexation, than of piety or pa- 
 triotifm. Pope gives a more folemn turn to it, than ei- 
 ther Homer's words, or the character of the fpeaker, 
 will juftify. 
 
 ' Lord of earth and air ! 
 
 O King, O Father, hear my humble prayer. Sec. 
 
 thing
 
 8d ONPOETRY Part I- 
 
 tiling of franknefs and blunt fincerity, which 
 entitle him to a fliare in our efteem ; and he 
 is ever ready to afTift his countrymen, to 
 whom he renders good fervice on many a 
 
 perilous emergency. ■ The character of 
 
 Helen, in fpite of her faults, and of the ma- 
 ny calamities whereof Ihe is the guilty caufe, 
 Homer has found means to recommend to 
 our pity, and almofl to our love ; and this 
 he does, without feeking to extenuate the 
 crime of Paris, of which the moft refpe6lable 
 perfonages in the poem are made to fpeak 
 with becoming abhorrence. She is fo full of 
 remorfe, fo ready on every occafion to con- 
 demn her pad conduct, fo affectionate to 
 her friends, fo willing to do juftice to every 
 body's merit, and withal fo finely accom- 
 plifhed, that flie extorts our admiration, as 
 
 well as that of the Trojan fenators. Me- 
 
 nelaus, though fufficiently fenfible of the in- 
 jury he had received, is yet a man of mo- 
 deration, clemency, and good-nature, a va- 
 liant foldier, and a mofl affectionate brother ; 
 but there is a dafh of vanity in his compofi- 
 tion, and he entertains rather too high an 
 opinion of his own abilities ; yet never over- 
 looks or undervalues the merit of others. 
 
 Priam would claim unreferved efteem, 
 
 as well as pity, if it were not for his inex- 
 cufeable weaknefs, in gratifying the hu- 
 mour, and by indulgence abetting the crimes, 
 of the mofl worthlefs of all his children, to 
 the utter ruin of his people, family, and 
 
 kingdom.
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I C. 87 
 
 kingdom. Madame Dacier fuppofes, that 
 he had loft his authority, and was obhged 
 to fall in with the politics of the times : but 
 of this I find no evidence ; on the contrary, 
 he and his unworthy favourite Paris feem to 
 have been the only perfons of diflindlion in 
 Troy, who were averfe to the reftoring of 
 Helen. Priam's foible (if it can be called by 
 fo foft a name), however faulty, is not un- 
 common, and has often produced calamity 
 both in private and public life. The fcrip- 
 ture gives a memorable inftance, in the hi- 
 
 ftory of the good old Eli. Sarpedon 
 
 comes nearer a perfecfl character, than any 
 other of Homer's heroes ; but the part he 
 has to a6t is fliort. It is a character, which 
 one could hardly have expected in thofe rude 
 times : A fovereign prince, who confiders 
 himfelf as a magiftrate fet up by the people 
 for the public good, and therefore bound in 
 honour and gratitude to be himfelf their 
 example, and itudy to excel as much in vir- 
 tue, as in rank and authority. Hedlor 
 
 is the favourite of every reader ; and with 
 good reafon. To the trueft valour he joins 
 the moft generous patriotifm. He abomi- 
 nates the crime of Paris : but, not being 
 able to prevent the war, he thinks it his 
 duty to defend his country, and his father 
 and fovereign, to the laft. He too, as well 
 as Achilles, forefees his own death; which 
 heightens our compaflion, and raifes our idea 
 pf his magnanimity. In all the relations of 
 
 private
 
 88' ON POETRY Part T. 
 
 private life, as a fon, a father, a hiifband, a 
 brother, he is amiable in the higheft degree ; 
 and he is diflinguifhed among all the heroes 
 for tendernefs of affection, gentlenefs of man- 
 ners, and a pious regard to the duties of re- 
 ligion. One circumftance of his characfler, 
 ftrongly expreffive of a great and delicate 
 mind, we learn from Helen's lamentation 
 over his dead body, That he was almofl the 
 only perfon in Troy, who had always treat- 
 ed her with kindnefs, and never uttered one 
 reproachful word to give her pain, nor heard 
 others reproach her without blaming them 
 for it. Some tendency to oflentation (which 
 however may be pardonable in a commander 
 in chief), and temporary fits of timidity, are 
 the only blemifhes difcoverable in this hero ; 
 whofe portrait Homer appears to have drawn 
 with an affectionate and peculiar attention. 
 And it mufl convey a favourable idea of the 
 good old bard, as well as of human nature, 
 to reflc(5l, that the fame perfon who was 
 loved and admired three thoufand years ago, 
 as a pattern of heroic excellence and manly 
 virtue, is flill an objecfl of admiration and 
 love to the moft enlightened nations. This 
 is one ftriking proof, that, notwithftanding 
 the endlefs vicifTitude to which human affairs 
 are liable, the underftanding and moral fen- 
 timents of men have continued nearly the 
 fame in all ages ; and that the faculties where- 
 by we diftinguilh truth and virtue are as 
 |.'eally parts of our original nature, and as 
 2 little
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I C. 89 
 
 little obnoxious to the caprice of fafnion, as 
 our love of life, our fenfes of feeing and 
 hearing, or the appetites of hunger and thirft. 
 Re(5litude of moral principle, and a fpirit of 
 good-nature and humanity, are indeed emi- 
 nently confpicuous in this wonderful poet ; 
 whofe works, in whatever liglit we confider 
 them, as a pi6lure of pad: ages, as a treafure 
 of moral wifdom, as a fpecimen of the power 
 of human genius, or as an affecfting and in- 
 fhrudlive difplay of the human mind, arc 
 truly ineflimable. 
 
 By afcribing fo many amiable qualities to 
 Heclor, and feme others of the Trojans, 
 the poet interefis us in the fate of that peo- 
 ple, notwithftanding our being continually 
 kept in mind, that they are the injurious 
 party. And by thus blending good and evil, 
 virtue and frailty, in the compofition of his 
 chara(5lers, he makes them the more con- 
 formable to the real appearances of human 
 nature, and more ufeful as examples for our 
 improvement : and at the fame time, with- 
 out hurting verifimilitude, gives every ne- 
 cefFary embellilliment to particular parts of 
 his poem, and variety, coherence, and ani- 
 mation, to the whole fable. And it may 
 alfo be obferved, that though fevcral of his 
 charadlers are complex, not one of them is 
 made up of incompatible parts : all are natu- 
 ral and probable, and fuch as we think we 
 have met with, or might have met with^ 
 in our intercourfe with mankind. 
 
 Vol. II. M Froin
 
 9© ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 From the fame extenfive views of good and 
 evil, in all their forms and combinations, 
 Homer has been enabled to make each of his 
 characters perfed;ly diflindl in itfelf, and 
 different from all the reft; infomuch that, 
 before we come to the end of the Iliad, we 
 fire as well acquainted with his heroes, as 
 with the faces and tempers of our moft fa- 
 miliar friends. Virgil, by confining himfelf 
 to a few general ideas of fidelity and forti^ 
 tude, has made his fubordinate heroes a ve-i- 
 ry good fort of people ; but they are all the 
 fame, and we have no clear knowledge of 
 any one of them. Achates is faithful, and 
 Gyas is brave, and Cloanthus is brave ; and 
 this is all we can fay of the matter *. We 
 lee thefe heroes at a diftance, and have fome 
 
 * I cannot, however, admit the opinion of thofe who 
 contend, that there is nothing of charadler in Virgil. 
 Turnus is a good poetical charadler, but borrowed from 
 Homer, being an Achilles in miniature. Mezentius is 
 \vell drawn, and of the poet's own invention : — a tyrant, 
 ■who, together with impiety, has contradled intolerable 
 cruelty and pride ; yet intrepid in the field, and graced 
 ■with one amiable virtue, fometimes found in very rugged 
 minds, a tender afFedlion to a moft deferving fon. In 
 the good old King Evander, we have a charming pic-^ 
 ture of fimple manners, refined by erudition, and un- 
 corrupted by luxury. Dido has been already analyfed. 
 There is nothing, 1 think, in Camilla, which might not 
 be expected in any female warrior; but the adventures of 
 her early life are romantic and interefting. The circum- 
 ftance of her being, when an infant, thrown acrofs a 
 river, tied to a fpear, is fo very fingular, that it would 
 feem to have had a foundation in fact, or in tradition. 
 Something fimilar is related by Plutarch of King Pyrrhus. 
 
 notion
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I C. 91 
 
 notion of their fhape and fize ; but are not 
 near enough to diflinguifh their features : 
 and every face feems to exhibit the fame faint 
 and ambiguous appearance. But of Ho- 
 mer's heroes we know every particular that 
 can be known. We eat, and drink, and 
 talk, and fight with them : we fee them in 
 acflion, and out of it ; in the field, and in 
 their tents and houfes : — the very face of 
 the country about Troy, we feem to be as 
 well acquainted with, as if we had been 
 there. Similar characters there are among 
 thefe heroes, as there are fimilar faces in eve- 
 ry fociety ; but we never miilake one for an- 
 other. Neflor and Ulyfles are both wife, and 
 both eloquent ; but the wifdom of the for- 
 mer feems to be the effecfl of experience ; that 
 of the latter, of genius : the eloquence of the 
 one is fweet and copious, but not always 
 to the purpofe, and apt to degenerate into 
 ftory-telling ; that of the other is clofe, em- 
 phatical, and perfuafive, and accompanied 
 with a peculiar modefly and fimplicity of 
 manner. Homer's heroes are all valiant ; 
 yet each difplays a modification of valour 
 peculiar to himfelf. One is valiant from 
 principle, another from conftitution ; one is 
 rafli, another cautious ; one is impetuous and 
 headftrong, another impetuous, but tra (Sta- 
 ble ; one is cruel, another merciful ; one is 
 infolent and oftentatious, another gentle and 
 iTuaffuming ; one is vain of his perfon, an- 
 other of his flrength, and a third of his fa- 
 M 2 rnily,-
 
 92 
 
 ON POETRY Part I. 
 
 mily. It would be tedious to give a com-^ 
 
 plete enumeration. Almoft every fpecies of 
 the heroic characfler is to be found in Ho- 
 mer. 
 
 The Paradife Loft, though truly Epic, can- 
 not properly be called an Heroic poem ; for 
 the agents in it are not heroes, but beings 
 of a higher order *. Of thefe the poet's 
 plan did not adinit the introducftion of ma- 
 nv : but moft of thofe whom he has intro- 
 duced are well charadlerifed. I have alrea- 
 dy fpoken of his Satan^ which is the higheft 
 imaginable fpecies of the diabolical charac- 
 ter. The inferior fpecies are well diverlified, 
 and in each variety diflinclly marked : one 
 is flothful, another avaricious, a third fo- 
 phiilical, a fourth furious ; and though all 
 are impious, fom.e are more outrageoully and 
 
 blafphemoully fo, than others. Adam 
 
 and Eve, in the (tate of innocence, are cha- 
 ra(5lers well imagined, and well fupported ; 
 and the different i'entiments arifmg from dif- 
 ference of fex, are traced out with inimitable 
 delicacy, and philoiopliical propriety. After 
 the fail, he inakes them retain the fame 
 characters, without any other change than 
 "what the tranfition from innocence to 8:uilc 
 
 o 
 
 * Samfon, in the Agoniftcs^ is a fpecies of the heroic 
 character not to be found in Homer; diltincUy marked,, 
 and admirably fupported. And Delilah, in the nunc 
 tragedy, is perhaps a more perfeft model of an alluring, 
 inhniiating, worthlefs woman, than any other to be met 
 with in ancient or modern poetry. 
 
 might
 
 Ch. IV. A N D M U S I C. 
 
 93 
 
 might be fuppofed to produce : Adam has 
 flill that pre-eminence in dignity, and Eve 
 in lovehnefs, which we fliould naturally look 
 for in the father and mother of mankind. 
 Of the blefTed fpirits, Raphael and Mi- 
 chael are well diftinguifhed ; the one for af- 
 fability, and peculiar good-will to the human 
 race ; the other for majefty, but fuch as com- 
 mands veneration, rather than fear. We 
 
 are forry to add, that Milton's attempt to 
 foar (till higher, only fhows, that he had 
 already foared as high, as, without being 
 *' blafted with excefs of light," it is pofTible 
 for the human imagination to rife. 
 
 I have been led further into this fubjed: of 
 poetical characfters than I intended to have 
 gone, or than was neceilary in the prefent 
 inveftigation. For I prefume, it was long 
 ago abundantly evident ; — that the end of 
 Poetry is to pleafe, and therefore that the 
 moft perfe6l poetry mud be the mofl plea- 
 iing ; — that what is unnatural cannot give 
 pleafure, and therefore that poetry mufi be 
 according to nature ; — that it muft be either 
 according to real nature, or according to na- 
 ture fomewhat different from the reality ; — 
 that if, according to real nature, it would 
 give no greater pleafure than hiftory, which 
 is a tranfcript of real nature ; — that greater 
 pleafure is, however, to be expelled from it, 
 becaufe we grant it fjperior indulgence, in 
 regard to fidtion, and the choice ot words ; 
 — and, confequeatly, that poetry muft be, 
 
 not
 
 94 ONPOETRY Part I, 
 
 not according to real nature, but according 
 to nature improved to that degree, which 
 is confiflent with probability, and fuitable 
 
 to the poet's purpofe *. And hence it is 
 
 that we call Poetry, An imitation of 
 Nature. — For that which is properly term- 
 ed Imitation has always in it fomething which 
 is not in the original. If the prototype and 
 tranfcript be exadlly alike ; if there be nothing 
 in the one which is not in the other ; we may 
 call the latter a reprefentation, a copy, a 
 draught, or a pidlure, of the former ; but we 
 never call it an imitation. 
 
 * Cum mundus fenflbilis fit anima rational! digniiate 
 inferior, videtur Poefis hsec humanse naturse largiri quje 
 lilftoria denegat •, atque animo umbris rerum utcunque 
 fatisfacere, cum folida haberi non poflint. Si quis enim 
 rem acutius intx'ofpiciat, fii-mum ex Poeil fumicur argu- 
 mentum, magnitudinem rerum magis illuftrem, ordinem 
 magis perfedlum, et varietatem magis piilchram, anima: 
 liuman^e complacere, quam in natura ipia, poft lapfum, 
 reperiri uUo modo poffit. Quapropter, cum res geftoe,"" 
 et eventus, qui verce hiftorije Tubjiciimtur, non fint ejus 
 amplitudinis, in qua anima humana iibi fatistaciat, prsefto 
 eft Poefis, qux fadla magis heroica connngat. Cum hi- 
 ftoria vera fuccelTus rerum, minime pro mentis virtutum 
 et fcelerum narret ; corrigit earn Poefis, et exitus, et 
 fortunas, fecundum merita, et ex lege Nemel'eos, exhibet. 
 Cum hiftoria vera, obvia rerum iatietate et fimilitvidine, 
 animje humane faftidio fit ; reficit earn Poefis, inexpe6ta- 
 ta, et varia, et viciflitudinum plena canens. Adeo ut 
 Poefis ifta non folum ad delc£tationcm, fed etiam ad a- 
 nimi magnitudinem, et ad mores conferat. Quare et 
 merito etiam divinitatis pariiceps videri pofllt ; quia ani- 
 mum erigit, ct in fublime rapit j rerum fimulacra ad 
 animi defideria accommodando, non animum I'cbus (quod 
 ratio facit et hiftoria) fubmittendo. 
 
 Bo^con. De Aug, Scient. pag. i68. Lug. Bat. 1645. 
 
 CHAP.
 
 Ch. V. AND MUSIC. 95 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Further Illuftrations* Of Poetical 
 Arrangement. 
 
 IT was formerly remarked, tKat the events 
 of Poetry mull be " more compa(fl, more 
 " clearly connected with caufes and confe- 
 " quences, and unfolded in an order more 
 " flattering to the imagination, and more 
 *' interefling to the pallions,'* than the 
 events of hiflory commonly are. This may 
 feem to demand fome illuftration. ^ 
 
 I. Some parts of hiilory interefh us much; 
 but others fo little, that, if it were not for 
 their nfe in the connedlion of events, we 
 fhould be inclined to overlook them altoge- 
 ther. But all the parts of a poem muft be 
 interefling : — Great, to raife admiration or 
 terror; unexpedled, to give furprife; pathe- 
 tic, to draw forth our tender afFedlions ; im- 
 portant, from their tendency to the elucida- 
 tion of the fable, or to the difplay of human 
 charadler ; amufing, from the agreeable pic- 
 tures of nature they prefent us with ; or of 
 peculiar efficacy in promoting our moi'al im-v 
 provement. And therefore, in forming an 
 Epic or Dramatic Fable, from hiftory or tra- 
 dition.
 
 96 ONPOETRY Part T. 
 
 dition, the poet muft omit every event that 
 cannot be improved to one or other of thefe 
 purpofes. 
 
 II. Some events are recorded in hiflory, 
 merely becaufe they are true ; though their 
 confequences be of no moment, and their 
 caufes unknown. But of all poetical events, 
 the caufes ought to be manifeft, for the fake 
 of probability ; and the effects confiderable, 
 to give them importance. 
 
 III. A hiflory may be as long as you pleafe ; 
 for, w^hile it is inftrudlive and true, it is ftill 
 a good hi (lory. But a poem mull not be 
 too long : — firil, becaufe to vv^rite good poe- 
 try is exceedingly difficult, fo that a very 
 long poem would be too extenfive a work for 
 human life, and too laborious for human a- 
 bility ; — fecondly, becaufe, if you would be 
 fuitably affedled with the poet's art, you muft 
 have a difliincl remembrance of the whole 
 fable, which could not be, if the fable were 
 ■very long*; — and, thirdly, becaufe poetry 
 is addreffed to the imagination and paflions, 
 which cannot long be kept in violent exer- 
 cife, without working the mind into a difa- 
 greeable flate, and even impairing the health 
 of the body. That, by thefe three pecu- 
 liarities of the poetical art, its powers of 
 pleaiing are heightened, and confequently its 
 end promoted, is too obvious to require 
 proof. 
 
 * Ariftot. Poet. § 7. 
 
 2 IV.
 
 Ch. V. AND MUSIC. 
 
 97 
 
 IV. The flrength of a paffion depends in 
 part on the vivacity of the imprcfTion made 
 by its object. Diftrefs which we lee, we are 
 more aiFecled with than what we only hear 
 of; and, of feveral defcriptions of an affect- 
 ing obje(5l, we are moft moved by that which 
 is moft hvely. Every thing in poetry, being 
 intended to operate on the palTions, muft be 
 difplayed in hvely colours, and fet as it were 
 before the ey^s : and therefore the poet muft 
 attend to many minute, though picTturefque 
 circumfhances, that may, or perhaps muft, 
 be overlooked by the hiftorian. Achilles put- 
 ting on his armour, is defcribed by Homer 
 with a degree of minutenels, which, if it 
 were the poet's buftnefs fimply to relate 
 fads, might appear tedious or impertinent ; 
 but which in reality anfwers a good pur- 
 pofe, that of giving us a diftindl image of 
 this dreadful warrior : it being the end of 
 poetical defcription, not only to 7^elate facts, 
 but to paint them * ; not merely to inform 
 
 the 
 
 * Homer's poetry is always picliurerque. Algarottl, 
 after Lucian, calls him the prince of painters. He fets 
 before us the whole vlfible -.appearance of the object he 
 defcribes, fo that the painter would have nothing to do 
 but to work after his model. He has more epithets ex- 
 preffive of colour thin any other poet I am acquainted 
 with : hLick earth, ivinc-colourcd ocean, and even ivhite 
 milk, &c. This to the imagination of thofe readers 
 who ftudy the various colourings of nature is highly a,- 
 rnufing, hov^ever offenfive it may be to the delicacy of 
 certain critics; — whofe rules for the ufe of epithets if 
 
 Vol. ir. N wq
 
 98 ONPOETRY Part I, 
 
 the judgement, and enrich the memory, but 
 to awaken the paflions, and captivate the i-' 
 
 magination. 
 
 tve were to adopt, we fhould take the palm of poetry 
 from Homer, Virgil, and Milton, and beftow it on 
 thofe fimple rhimers, who, becaufe they have no other 
 merit, niuft be admired for barrennefs of fancy, and 
 
 poverty of language. An improper ufe of epithets 
 
 is indeed a grievous fault. And epithets become im- 
 proper : — I . when they add nothing to the fenfe ; or 
 to the pidlure •, — and ftill more, when, 2. they feem ra- 
 ther to take fomething from if, — 3. when by their col-. 
 loquial meannefs they debafe the fubje£t. — Thefe three 
 faults are all exemplified in the following lines : 
 
 The chariot of the King of kings, 
 Which a^ive troops of angels drew. 
 On a ftrong tempeft's rapid wings, 
 With ino/i amazing fwiftnefs flew. 
 
 Tate and Brady. 
 
 4. Epithets are improper, when, inftead of adding to 
 the fenfe, they only exaggerate the found. Homer's 
 ■TToKvi^Koiijf^oio Sroc\cc(T7}i; contalns both an imitative found, 
 and a lively picture : but Thomfon gives us nothing but 
 noife, when he fays, defcribing a thunder ftorm. 
 
 Follows the loofen'd aggravated roar, 
 Enlarging, deepening, mingling, peal on peal, 
 Crulla'd horrible, convuliing heaven and earth. 
 
 Summer, 
 
 The following line of Pope is perhaps liable to the fame 
 gbjeftion : 
 
 Then ruftling, crackling, crafhing, thunder down. 
 
 Iliad 2^' 
 
 5. Epithets are faulty, when they overcharge a verfe fo 
 as to hurt its harmony, and incumber its motion. — 6. 
 When they darken the fenfe, by crowding too many 
 
 rhouQ,hts
 
 Cii. V. A N D M U S I C. 99 
 
 magination. Not that every thing in poetry 
 is to be minutely defcribed, or that every 
 
 minute 
 
 thoughts together. Both thefe fauhs appear in this paf- 
 lagc : 
 
 Her eyes in liquid light luxurious fwinij 
 
 And languifh with unutterable love ; 
 
 Heaven's warm bloom glows along each bright eningWrnb^ 
 
 Where fluttering hlaitd the veil's thin maritlings rove. 
 
 Laflly, Epithets are improper, when they recur more fre- 
 quently, than the genius either of the language or of 
 the compofition will admit. For fome languages are more 
 liberal of epithets than others, the Italian, for inftance, 
 than the Englifla ; and fome forts of verfe require a more 
 perfedl fimplicity than others, thofe, for example, that 
 exprefs dejedtion or compofure of mind, than thofe that 
 give utterance to enthufiafm, indignation, and other ar- 
 dent emotions. 
 
 In general, Epithets, that add to the fenfe, and at the 
 fame time affift the harmony, muft be allowed to be 
 ornamental, if they are not too frequent. Nor fliould. 
 thofe be objected to, which give to the expreffion either 
 delicacy or dignity. And as thefe qualities do not at all 
 times depend on the fame principle, being in fome de- 
 gree determined by fafhion, is there not reafon for fvip- 
 pofing, that the moil: exceptionable of Homer's epithets, 
 thofe I mean which he applies to his perfons, might in 
 that remote age have had a propriety, whereof at pre- 
 fent wc have no conception ? The epithets aflluned by 
 Eaftern kings feem ridiculous to an European ; and yet 
 perhaps may appear iignificant and folemn to thofe who 
 are accuftomed to hear them in the original language. 
 Let it be obferved too, that Homer compofed his im- 
 mortal work at a time when writing was not common ; 
 when people were ratber hearei's than readers of poeti-y, 
 and could not often enjoy the pleafure even of hearing 
 Jr ; and when, confequently, the frequent repetition of 
 
 N 2 certain
 
 100 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 minute defcription muft of necefTity be a 
 long one. Nothing has a worfe effecft, than 
 defcriptions too long, too frequent, or too 
 minute ; — witnefs the Davideis of Cowley : 
 - — and the reader is never fo efFeclually in- 
 terefted in his fubjedt, as when, by means of 
 a few circumftances well feled:ed, he is made 
 to conceive a great many others. From 
 Virgil's Fulcherr'ima Dido^ and the follow- 
 ing fimile of Diana amidft her nymphs *, 
 our fancy may form for itfelf a pi(51:ure of 
 feminine lovelinefs and dignity more perfe6l 
 than ever Cowley or Ovid could exhibit in 
 their mod elaborate defcriptions. Nay, it 
 has been juftly remarked by the beft critics f, 
 that, in the defcription of great obje(5ls, a 
 certain degree of obfcurity, not in the lan- 
 guage, but in t\\c pidlure or notion prefent- 
 ed to the mind, has fometimes a happy ef- 
 fe(5l in producing adniiration, terror, and 
 other emotions connetfted with the fublime : 
 — as when the witches in Macbeth defcribe 
 the horrors of their employment by calling 
 it in three words, "A deed ^vithgut a 
 ** NAME." — But it is only a great artift, 
 
 certain words and pluafts, being a help to memory, as 
 Avell as to the righ.t apprchcnhon of the poet's meaning, 
 would be thought rather a beauty than a blemiih. The 
 iame thing is obfervablc in fome of our old ballads. 
 
 * Virg. /iincid. lib. i. verf. 500. 
 
 f Demet. Phakr. § 266. Buike on the Sublime anti 
 Beautiful. 
 
 who
 
 Ch. V. AND MUSIC. loi 
 
 who knows when to be brief in defcription, 
 and when copious; where to hght up his 
 landfcape with funfliine, and where to cover 
 it with darknefs and tempeft. To be able 
 to do this, without fufFering the narration 
 to languifli in its progrefs, or to run out in- 
 to an immoderate length ; without hurrying 
 us away from afFe(fling objects before our 
 paflions have time to operate, or fixing our 
 attention too long upon them, — it will be 
 proper, that the poet confine the aclion of 
 his poem to a fliort period of time. But 
 hiftory is fubje(5l to no reftraints, but thofe 
 of truth ; and, without incurring blame, 
 may take in any length of duration. 
 
 V. The origin of nations, and the begin- 
 nings of great events, are little known, and 
 feldom interefling; whence the firft part of 
 every hiftory, compared with the fequel, is 
 fomewhat dry and tedious. But a poet mufl, 
 even in the beginning of his work, interefl 
 the readers, and raife high expedlation ; not 
 by any afFecled pomp of flyle, far lefs by 
 ample promifes or bold profeffions ; but by 
 fetting immediately before them fome in- 
 cident, flriking enough to raife curiofity, in 
 regard both to its caufes and to its confe- 
 quences. He mull therefore take up his fto- 
 ry, not at the beginning, but in the middle ; 
 or rather, to prevent the work from being too 
 long, as near the end as poifible: and after- 
 wards take fome proper opportunity to in- 
 form us of the preceding events, in the wav 
 
 of
 
 102 O N P O E T R Y PartL 
 
 of narrative, or by the converfation of the 
 perfons introduced, or by lliort and natural 
 digreilions. 
 
 The acflion of both the lUad and Odyffey 
 begins about fix weeks before its conclufion ; 
 although the principal events of the war of 
 Troy are to be found in the former, and the 
 adventures of a ten years voyage, followed 
 by the fuppreilion of a dangerous domeftic 
 enemy, in the latter. One of the firfl things 
 mentioned by Homer in the Iliad, is a plague, 
 which Apollo in anger lent into the Grecian 
 army commanded by Agamemnon, and now 
 encamped before Troy. Who this Agamem- 
 non was, and who the Grecians were ; for 
 what reafon they had come hither; how long 
 the fiege had lafted ; what memorable acflions 
 had been already performed, and in what 
 condition both parties now were : — all this, 
 and much more, we foon learn from occa- 
 iional hints and converfations interfperfed 
 through the poem. 
 
 In the Eneid, which, though it compre- 
 hends the tranfu5lions of feven years, opens 
 within a few months of the concluding event, 
 we are firft prefented with a view of the Tro- 
 jan fleet at fea, and no lefs a perfon than Ju- 
 no interelling herfelf to raife a ftorm for their 
 deftrucflion. This excites a curiolity to know 
 fomething further : who thefe Trojans were ; 
 whence they had come, and whither they 
 were bound ; why they had left their own 
 country, and what had befallen them iince 
 
 they
 
 Ch. V. AND MUSIC. 103 
 
 they left it. On all thefe points, the poet, 
 without quitting the track of his narrative, 
 foon gives the fulleft information. The ftorm 
 rifes ; the Trojans are driven to Africa, and 
 hofpitably received by the Queen of the coun- 
 try ; at whofe defire their commander re- 
 lates his adventures. 
 
 The adlion of Paradife Loft commences not 
 many days before Adam and Eve are expel- 
 led from the garden of Eden, which is the 
 concluding event. This poem, as its plan 
 is incomparably more fublime and more im- 
 portant, than that of either the Iliad or E- 
 neid, opens with a far more interefting fcene : 
 a multitude of angels and archangels fliut 
 up in a region of torment and darknefs, 
 and rolling on a lake of unquenchable fire. 
 Who thefe angels are, and w^hat brought 
 them into this miferable condition, we natu- 
 rally wifli to know ; and the poet in due time 
 informs us ; partly from the converfation of 
 the fiends themfeives ; and more particular- 
 ly by the mouth of a happy fpirit, fent from 
 heaven to caution the father and mother of 
 mankind againft temptation, and confirm 
 their good refolutions by unfolding the dread- 
 ful effecls of impiety and difobcdience. 
 
 This poetical arrangement of events, fo 
 different from the hiliorical, has other ad- 
 vantages befides thofe arifing from brevity, 
 and compadinefs of detail: it is obviouily 
 more affedling to the fancy, and more a- 
 Jarming to the paffions; and, being more 
 
 fuitable
 
 104 ONPOETRY Part L 
 
 fuitable to the order and the manner in 
 which the aclions of other men ftrike our 
 fenfes, is a more exacl imitation of human 
 affairs. I hear a fudden noife in the ftreet, 
 and run to fee what is the matter. An in- 
 furrecftion has happened, a great multitude 
 is brought together, and fomething very im- 
 portant is going forward. The fcene before 
 rne is the firft thing that engages my atten-i. 
 tion ; and is in itfelf fo interefling, that for 
 a moment or two I look at it in lilence and 
 wonder. By and by, when I get time for 
 reflecftion, I begin to inquire into the caufe 
 of all this tumult, and what it is the people 
 would be at ; and one who is better infonn- 
 ed than I, explains the affair from the begin- 
 ning ; or perhaps I make this out for myfelf, 
 from the words and acl^ions of the perfons 
 principally concerned. — This is a fort of pic- 
 ture * of poetical arrangement, both in Epicf* 
 and Dramatic Compofition ; and this plan has 
 been followed in narrative odes and ballads 
 both ancient and modern. — The hiftorian 
 purfues a different method. He begins per- 
 haps with an account of the manners of a 
 certain age, and of the political conilitution 
 of a certain country ; then introduces a parti- 
 cular perfon, gives the flory of his birth, 
 conneclions, private character, purfuits, dif- 
 
 * This illuftration, or fomething very like it, I think 
 J have read in Batteux's Commentary on Horace's Art 
 of Poetry. 
 
 2 appointmer^ts.
 
 Ch. V. AND MUSIC. 105 
 
 appointments, and of the events that pro- 
 moted his views, and brought him acquaint- 
 ed with other turbulent fpirits Hke himfelf ; 
 and fo proceeds, unfolding, according to 
 the order of time, the caufes, principles, and 
 progrefs of the confpiracy ; — if that be the 
 fubjed: which he undertakes to illuftrate. It 
 cannot be denied, that this latter method is 
 more favouruble to calm infomation : but 
 the former, compared with it, will be found 
 to have all the advantages already fpecilied, 
 and to be more effe(5lually productive of that 
 mental pleafure which depends on the paf- 
 fions and imagination. 
 
 VI. If a work have no determinate end, 
 it has no meaning ; and if it have many ends, 
 it will diftradl by its multiplicity. Unity of 
 defign, therefore, belongs in fome meafure 
 to all compofitions, whether in verfe or profe. 
 But to fome it is more elTential than to o- 
 thers ; and to none fo much as to the higher 
 poetry. In certain kinds of hillory, there is 
 unity fufficient, if all the events recorded be 
 referred to one perfon ; in others, if to one 
 period of time, or to one people, or even to 
 the inhabitants of one and the fame planet. 
 But it is not enough, that the fubjedt of a 
 poetical fable be the exploits of oiie perfmi ; 
 for thefe may be of various and even of 
 oppofite forts and tendencies, and take up 
 longer time, than the nature of poetry can 
 admit : — far lefs can a regular poem com- 
 prehend the afiairs of one period^ or of one peo- 
 
 Vol. II, O pk ::
 
 io6 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 pie : — it muft be limited to fome one great 
 aflion or events to the illuftration of which 
 all the fubordinate events mud contribute ; 
 and thefe muft be fo connedted with one an- 
 other, as well as with the poet's general 
 purpofe, that one cannot be changed, tranf- 
 pofed, or taken away, without affedling the 
 confiftence and ftability of the whole *. In 
 itfelf an incident may be interefting, a cha- 
 racter well drawn, a defcription beautiful ; 
 and yet, if it disfigure the general plan, or 
 if it obftru(5l or incumber the main adlion, 
 inftead of helping it forward, a correcfl artift: 
 would confider it as but a gaudy fuperfluity 
 or fplendid deformity ; like a piece of fcarlet 
 cloth fowed upon a garment of a different 
 colour -f*. Not that all the parts of the fable 
 either are, or can be, equally effential. Ma- 
 ny defcriptions and thoughts, of little confe- 
 quence to the plan, may be admitted for the 
 fake of variety ; and the poet may, as well as 
 the hiftorian and philofopher, drop his fub- 
 je6l for a time, in order to take up an affecSl- 
 ing or inftru(5live digreffion. 
 
 The doctrine of poetical digreffions and 
 epifodes has been largely treated by the cri- 
 tics. I fliall only remark, that, in eftimating 
 their propriety, three things are to be at- 
 tended to : — their connection with the fable 
 or fubjedl ; — their own peculiar excellence; 
 
 * Ariftot. Poet. § S, 
 
 t Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. 15. &c. 
 
 '--and
 
 Ch. V. AND MUSIC. 107 
 
 - — and their fubferviency to the poet's defign. 
 
 I. Thofe digreffions, that both arife from 
 and terminate in the fubje(5l ; hke the epi- 
 fode of the angel Raphael in Paradife Loft, 
 and the tranfition to the death of Cefar and 
 the civil wars in the firft book of the Geor- 
 gia ; are the moft artful, and if fuitably 
 executed claim the higheft praife : — thofe 
 that arife from, but do not terminate in the 
 fubjedl, are perhaps fecond in the order of 
 merit ; like the ftory of Dido in the Eneid, 
 and the encomium on a country-life in the 
 fecond book of the Georgic : - — thofe come 
 next, that terminate in, but do not rife from 
 the fable ; of which there are feveral in the 
 third book of the Eneid, and in the OdyfTey : 
 — and thofe, that neither terminate in the 
 fable, nor rife from it, are the leaft artful ; 
 and if they be long, cannot efcape cenfure, 
 unlefs their beauty be very great. 
 
 But, 2. we are willing to excufe a beauti- 
 ful epifode, at whatever expence to the fub- 
 jedl it may be introduced. They who can 
 blame Virgil for obtruding] upon them the 
 charming tale of Orpheus and Eurydice in 
 the fourth Georgic, or Milton for the apo- 
 ftrophe to light in the beginning of his third 
 book, ought to forfeit all title to the perufal 
 of good poetry ; for of fuch divine ftrains 
 one would rather be the author, than of all 
 the books of criticifm in the world. Yet 
 ftill it is better, that an epifode poiTefs the 
 beauty of conne(ftion, together with its own 
 O 2 intrinfic
 
 168 N P O E T R Y Parti. 
 
 intrinfic elegance, than this without the o- 
 ther. 
 
 Moreover, in judging of the propriety of 
 epifodes, and other fimilar contrivances, it 
 may be expedient to attend, 3. to the defign 
 of the poet, as diftinguiilied from the fable 
 or fubje6t of the poem. The great defign, 
 for example, of Virgil, was to intereft his 
 countrymen in a poem written with a view 
 to reconcile them to the perfon and govern- 
 ment of Auguftus. Whatever, therefore, in 
 the poem tends to promote this defign, even 
 though it fhould, in fome degree, hurt the 
 contexture of the fable, is really a proof of 
 the poet's judgement, and may be not on- 
 ly allowed but applauded. — The progrefs of 
 the acftion of the Eneid may feem to be too 
 long obflrucfted, in one place, by the ftory 
 of Dido, which, though it rifes from the 
 preceding part of the poem, has no influence 
 upon the fequel ; and, in another, by the e- 
 pifode of Cacus, which, without injury to 
 the fahle^ might have been omitted altoge- 
 ther. Yet thefe epifodes, interefling as they 
 arc to us and to all mankind, becaule of the 
 ti*anfcendent merit of the poetry, muft have 
 been ftill more interefting to the Romans, be- 
 caufe of their connecffcion with the Roman 
 affairs : for the one accounts poetically for 
 their wars with Carthage ; and the other not 
 only explains Ibme of their religious ceremo- 
 nies, but alfo gives a mod charming rural 
 pidure of thofc hills and vallies in the neigh- 
 bourhood
 
 Ch. V. AND MUSIC: 109 
 
 bourhood of the Tiber, on which, in after 
 times, their majeftic city was fated to (land. 
 — And if we coniider, that the defign of 
 Homer's IHad was, not only to fhow the f.i- 
 tal effects of dilTenlion among confederates, 
 but alfo to immortaUfe his country, and ce- 
 lebrate the mod diftinguiflied families in it, 
 we fhall be inclined to think more favour- 
 ably than eritics generally do, of fome of 
 his long fpeeches and digreffions ; which, 
 though to us they may feem trivial, muft 
 have been very interefting to his country- 
 men, on account of the genealogies and pri- 
 vate hiftory recorded in them. — Shakefpeare*s 
 Hiflorical Plays, conlidered as Dramatic 
 fables, and tried by the laws of Tragedy 
 and Comedy, appear very rude compohtions. 
 But if we attend to the poet's defign^ (as the 
 elegant critic * has with equal truth and 
 beauty explained it), we fhall be forced to 
 admire his judgement in the general condud: 
 of thofe pieces, as well as unequalled fuccefs 
 in the execution of particular parts. 
 
 There is yet another point of view (as 
 hinted formerly) in which thefe digreffions 
 may be conlidered. If they tend to eluci- 
 date any important characfter, or to intro- 
 duce any interefting event not otherwife with- 
 in the compafs of the poem, or to give an 
 amiable difplay of any particular virtue, they 
 
 * Effay on the writings and genius of Sliakefpeare, 
 pag- 55- 
 
 may
 
 no ON POETRY Parti. 
 
 may be Intitled, not to our pardon only, but 
 even to our admiration, however loofely they 
 may hang upon the fable. All thefe three 
 ends are efFecfted by that mod beautiful e- 
 pifode of He(5lor and Andromache in the 
 lixth book of the Iliad ; and the two laft, by 
 the no lefs beautiful one of Euryalus and 
 Nifus, in the ninth of the Eneid. 
 
 The beauties of poetry are diftinguifliable 
 into local and univerfal. The former may 
 refled: great honour on the poet, but the lat- 
 ter are more excellent in themfelves ; and 
 thefe chiefly we mufl be fuppofed to have 
 in our eye, when we fpeak of the elTential 
 characflers of the art. A well-invented fable, 
 as it is one of the mofl difficult operations of 
 human genius *, muft be allowed to be one 
 
 of 
 
 * The difficulty of conftrucfting an Epic or Dramatic 
 fable may appear from the bad fucceis of very great wri- 
 tei*s who have attempted it. Of Dramatic fables there 
 are indeed feveral in the world, which may be allowed to 
 have come near perfe£fion. But the beauty of Homer's 
 fable remains unrivalled to this day. Virgil and TalTo 
 have imitated, but not equalled it. That of Paradife Loft 
 is artful, and for the mofl part judicious : I am certain 
 the author could have equalled Homer in this, as he 
 has excelled him in fome other refpefts : — but the na- 
 ture of his plan would not admit the introdudlion of [o 
 many incidents, as we fee in the Iliad, co-operating to 
 one determinate end. — Of the Comic Epopee we have 
 two exquifite models in Englilh, I mean the Jmelia and 
 Tom Jones of Fielding. The introductory part of the 
 latter follows indeed the hiftorical arrangement, in a way 
 fomewhat refembling the practice of Euripides in his Pro- 
 logues, or at leaft. as excufeable : but, with this excep-- 
 
 tion^
 
 Ch. V. A N D M U S I C. in 
 
 of the highefl beauties of poetry. The de^ 
 ftgn, as diftinguiflied from the fabky may 
 ftand in need of commentators to explain it ; 
 but a well-wrought fable is univerfally un- 
 derftood, and univerfally pleafing. And if 
 ever a poet fhall arife, who to the art of So- 
 phocles and Homer, can join the correcSlnefs 
 and delicacy of Virgil, and the energy, va- 
 riety, and natural colouring of Shakefpeare, 
 the world will then fee fomething in poetry 
 more excellent than we can at prefent con- 
 ceive. 
 
 tion, we may venture to fay, that both fables would 
 bear to be examined by Ariftotle himfelf, and, if compa- 
 red with thofe of Homer, would not greatly fuffer in the 
 comparifon. This author, to an amafing variety of pro- 
 bable occurrences, and of characters well drawn, well 
 fupported, and finely contrafted, has given the moft per- 
 feft unity, by making them all co-operate to one and 
 the fame final purpofe. It yields a very pleafing furprife 
 to obferve, in the unravelling of his plots, particular- 
 ly that of Tom Jones ^ how many incidents, to which, 
 becaufe of their apparent minutenefs, we had fcarce at- 
 tended as they occurred in the narrative, are found 
 to have been eflential to the plot. And what heightens 
 our idea of the poet's art is, that all this is efix6ted 
 by natural means, and human abilities, without any 
 machinery : — while his great mafter Cervantes is obliged 
 to work a miracle for the cure of Don Quixote. — Can 
 any reafon be afl!igned, why the inimitable Fielding, who 
 was fo perfeft in Epic fable, fhould have fucceeded ^o 
 indifferently in Dramatic .'' Was it owing to the pecu- 
 liarity of his genius, or of his circumftances ? to any 
 thing in the nature of Dramatic writing in general, or of 
 that particular tafte in Dramatic ConTicdy which Congreve 
 and Vanburgh had introduced, and which he was obli- 
 ged to comply with ? 
 
 And
 
 112 O N P O E T R Y Parti. 
 
 And now, from the pofition formerly e- 
 flablifhed, that the end of this divine art is, 
 to give pleafure^ I have endeavoured to prove, 
 that, whether in difplaying the appearances 
 of the material univerfe, or in imitating the 
 workings of the human mind, and the varie- 
 ties of human character, or in arranging and 
 combining into one whole the feveral inci- 
 dents and parts whereof his fable conlifls, — 
 the aim of the poet muft be, to copy Nature, 
 not as it is, but in that flate of perfedlion in 
 which, confiftently with the particular genius 
 of the work, and the laws of verifimilitude, 
 it may be fuppofed to be. 
 
 Such, in general, is the nature of that poe- 
 try which is intended to raife admiration, 
 pity, and other Jerioiis emotions. But in this 
 art, as in all others, there are different de- 
 grees of excellence ; and we have hitherto 
 directed our view chiefly to the higheft. All 
 ferious poets are not equally folicitous to im- 
 prove nature. Euripides is faid to have re- 
 prefented men as they were ; Sophocles, more 
 poetically, as they fhould or might be *. 
 Theocritus, in his Idyls, and Spenfer, in 
 his Shepherd's Calendar, give us language 
 and fentiments more nearly approaching thofe 
 of the Rus verum et harbarum j, than what 
 we meet with in the Paftorals of Virgil and 
 Pope. In the Hifiorical drama^ human cha- 
 ra(5lers and events muft be according to hi- 
 
 * Ariftot. Poet. f Martial. 
 
 2 ftorical
 
 Ch. V. A N D M U S I C. 113 
 
 fborical truth, or at lead not fo remote from 
 it, as to lead into any important mifappre- 
 henfion of fa(fl. And in the Hlfiorical Epic 
 poem, fuch as the Pharfalia of Lucan, and 
 the Campaign of Addifon, the hiftorical ar- 
 rangement is preferred to the poetical, as 
 being nearer the truth. Yet nature is a little 
 improved even in thefe poems. The perfons 
 in Shakefpeare's Hiftorical Plays, and the 
 heroes of the Pharfalia, talk in verfe, and 
 fuitably to their characflers, and with a rea- 
 dinefs, beauty, and harmony of exprefTion, 
 not to be met with in real life, nor even in 
 hiflory ; fpeeches are invented, and, to height- 
 en the defcription, circumftances added, with 
 great latitude; real events are rendered more 
 compadl and niore flridlly dependent upon 
 one another, and fiiflitious ones brought in, 
 to elucidate human charadlers, and diverfify 
 the narration. 
 
 The more poetry improves nature, by co- 
 pying after general ideas collected from ex- 
 tenfive obfervation, the more it partakes (ac- 
 cording to Ariftotle) of the nature of philo- 
 fophy ; the greater ftretch of fancy and of 
 obfervation it requires in the arciit, and the 
 better chance it has to be univerfally agree- 
 able. An ordinary painter can give a por- 
 trait of a beautiful face : but from a num- 
 ber of fuch faces to collect a general idea 
 of beauty more perfedl than is to be found 
 in any individual, and then to give exift- 
 ence to that idea, by drawing it upon can- 
 
 VoL. II. P va^^
 
 114 ONPOETRY Parti, 
 
 vas, (as Zeuxis is faid to have done when he 
 made a famous picfture of Helen *), is a 
 work which one muft pofTefs invention and 
 judgement, as well as dexterity, to be able 
 to execute. For it is not by copying the eyes 
 of one lady, the lips of another, and the nofe 
 of a third, that fuch a picflure is to be form- 
 ed ; — a medley of this kind would probably 
 be ridiculous, as a certain form of feature 
 may fuit one face, w^hich would not fuit an- 
 other : — but it is by comparing together feve- 
 ral beautiful mouths, (for example), remark- 
 ing the peculiar charm of each ; and then 
 conceiving an idea of that feature, different 
 perhaps from all, and more perfed: than 
 any : and thus proceeding through the feve- 
 ral features, with a view, not only to the co- 
 lour, fhape, and proportion, of each part, 
 but alfo to the harmony of the whole. It 
 rarely happens, that an individual is fo com- 
 plete in any one quality as we could delire ; 
 and though it were in the opinion of fome, 
 it would not in that of all. A lover may 
 think his mifhrefs a model of perfection ; ilie 
 may have moles and freckles on her face, 
 and an odd call of her eye ; and yet he ihall 
 think all this becoming : but another man 
 fees her in a different light ; difcovers many 
 blemiflies perhaps, and but few beauties ; 
 thinks her too fat or too lean, too fhort or 
 too tall. Now, what would be the confe- 
 
 * Plin. Hia. Natur. lib. 35. 
 
 ^ \ quence,
 
 Ch. V. AND MUSIC. 115 
 
 quence, if this lady's portrait were to appear 
 in a pi(5lure, under the charader of Helen 
 or Venus ? The lover would admire it ; 
 but the reft of the world would wonder at 
 the painter s tafte. Great artifts have, how- 
 ever, fallen into this error. Rubens, while 
 he was drawing fome of his pieces, would 
 feem to have had but two ideas of feminine 
 lovelinefs ; and thofe were copied from his 
 two wives : all the world approves his con- 
 jugal partiality ; but his tafte in female beau- 
 ty all the world does not approve. 
 
 Individual objedts there are, no doubt, in 
 nature, which command univerfal admira- 
 tion. There are many women in Great Bri- 
 tain, whofe beauty all the world would ac- 
 knowledge. Nay, perhaps, there are fome 
 fuch in every nation : for, however capri- 
 cious our tafte for beauty may be efteemed 
 by modern philofophers, I have been affu- 
 red, that in the Weft Indies a female negro 
 feldom pafles for handfome among the blacks, 
 who is not really fo in the opinion of the 
 white people. There are characters in real 
 life, which, with little or no heightening, 
 might make a good figure even in Epic poe- 
 try : there are natural landfcapes, than which 
 one could not defire any thing of the kind 
 more beautiful. But fuch individuals are 
 not the moft common ; and therefore, though 
 the rule is not without exceptions, it may, 
 however, be admitted as a rule. That the 
 poet or painter, who means to adapt himfelf 
 P 2 to
 
 ii6 ON POETRY Parti. 
 
 to the general tafte, fliould copy after general 
 ideas collecfled from extenfive obfervation of 
 nature. For the moft parxt, the pecuUarities 
 of individuals are agreeable only to indivi- 
 duals ; the manners of Frenchmen to French- 
 men ; the drefs of the feafon to the beaux 
 and belles of the feafon ; the fentiments and 
 language of Newmarket, to the heroes pf 
 the turf, and their imitators. But manners 
 and fentiments, dreiles and faces, may be i- 
 magined, which Ihall be agreeable to all who 
 have a right to be pleafed : and thefe it is 
 the bufinefs of the imitative artifl to invent, 
 and to exhibit. 
 
 Yet mere portraits are ufeful and agree- 
 able : and poetry, even when it falls Ihort 
 of this philofophical perfection, may have 
 great merit as an inilrument of both in- 
 llrudlion and pleafure. Some minds have 
 no turn to abflradl fpeculation, and would 
 be better pleafed with a notion of an indivi- 
 dual, than with an idea of a fpecies * ; or 
 
 with 
 
 * Idcdy according to the ufage of the Greek philo- 
 fophers, from whom we have the word, {ignifies, " A 
 ** thought of the mind which is expreffed by a general 
 *' term." Notion is ufed by many Englilli writers of 
 credit to fignify, '♦ A thought of the mind which may 
 *' be exprelTcd by a proper or individual name." Thus, 
 I have a notion of London, but an idea of a city ; a no- 
 tion of a particular hero, but an idea of heroifm. Thefe 
 two words have lung been confounded by the beft wri- 
 ters : but it Were to be wiflied, that, as the things are 
 totally different, the name* had been fo too. Had this 
 
 been
 
 Ch.V. AND MUSIC. 117 
 
 with feeing in an Hiflorical pidlure or Epic 
 poem, the portraits or characters of their ac- 
 quaintance, than the fame form of face or 
 difpofition improved into a general idea *. 
 And to moft men, fimple unadorned nature 
 is, at certain times, and in certain compoii- 
 tions, more agreeable, than the moft elabo- 
 rate improvements of art ; as a plain fhort 
 period, without modulation, gives a pleafing 
 variety to a difcourfe. Many fuch portraits 
 of fimple nature there are in the fubordinate 
 parts both of Homer's and of Virgil's poe- 
 try : and an excellent effedl they have (as 
 was already obferved) in giving probability 
 to the fiction f , as well as in gratifying the 
 reader's fancy with images diflincfl and live- 
 ly, and eafily comprehended. The hiflo- 
 rical plays of Shakefpeare raife not our pity 
 and terror to fuch a height, as Lear, Mac- 
 been the cafe, a great deal of confufion peculiar to mo- 
 dern philofophy, and arifing from an ambiguous, and 
 almoft unlimited, ufe of the word idea^ might have been 
 prevented. 
 
 * An hiftorical pi£hire, like Weft's Death of Wolfe ^ in 
 which the faces are all portraits of individual heroes, 
 and the drefles according to the prefent mode, may 
 be more interefting now, than if thefe had been more 
 pifturefque, and thofe expreffive of different modifica- 
 tions of heroifm. But in a future age, when the drefles 
 are become unfafliionable, and the faces no longer 
 known as portraits, is there not reafon to fear, that this 
 excellent piece will lofe of its effect ? 
 
 + See chap. 3. 
 
 beth.
 
 ii8 ON POETRY Part L 
 
 beth, or Othello ; but they intereft and in- 
 ftrucSl us greatly, notwithfianding. The ru- 
 deft of the Eclogues of Theocritus, or even of 
 Spenfer, have by Ibme authors been extolled 
 above thofe of Virgil, becaufe more like real 
 life. Nay, Corneille is known to have pre- 
 ferred the Pharfalia to the Eneid, perhaps 
 from its being nearer the truth ; or perhaps 
 from the fublime fentiments of Stoical mora- 
 lity fo forcibly and fo oftentatioufly difplayed 
 in it. 
 
 Poets may refine upon nature too much, 
 as well as too little ; for aftecflation and rufti- 
 city are equally remote from true elegance. 
 
 The ftyle and fentiments of comedy 
 
 Ihould no doubt be more correal and more 
 pointed than thofe of the moft polite conver- 
 sation : but to make every footman a wit, 
 and every gentleman and lady an epigram- 
 matift, as Congreve has done, is an excef^ 
 five and faulty refinement. The proper me- 
 dium has been hit by Menander and Te- 
 rence, by Shakefpeare in his happier fcenes, 
 and by Garrick, Cumberland, and fome o- 
 
 thers of late renown. To defcribe the 
 
 pallion of love with as little delicacy as fome 
 men fpeak of it, would be unpardonable ; 
 but to transform it into mere platonic ado- 
 ration, is to run into another extreme, lefs 
 criminal indeed, but too remote from uni- 
 verfal truth to be univerfally interefting. To 
 the former extreme Ovid inclines ; and Pe- 
 trarch, and his imitators, to the latter. Vir- 
 gil
 
 Ch. V. AND MUSIC. 119 
 
 gll has happily avoided both : but Milton 
 has painted this paflion, as diftincfl from all 
 others, with fuch peculiar truth and beauty, 
 that we cannot think Voltaire's encomium 
 too high, when he fays, that love in all o- 
 ther poetry feems a weaknefs, but in Para- 
 
 dife Loft a virtue. There are many good 
 
 ftrokes of nature in Ramfay's Gentle Shep- 
 herd ; but the author's pafTion for the Rus 
 'uerum betrays him into fome indelicacies * : 
 ' — a cenfure that falls with greater weight 
 upon Theocritus, who is often abfolutely 
 indecent. The Italian paftoral of Taflb and 
 Guarini, and the French of Fontenelle, run 
 into the oppofite extreme, (though in fbme 
 parts beautifully fimple), and difplay a fy- 
 ftem of rural manners, fo quaint and affect- 
 ed as to outrage all probability. I fhould 
 oppofe feveral great names, if I were to fay, 
 that Virgil has given us the pafloral poem 
 in its mofl perfecfl ftate ; and yet I cannot 
 help being of this opinion, though I have 
 not time at prefent to fpecify my reafons. 
 in fadi, though mediocrity of execu- 
 tion in poetry be allowed to deferve the doom 
 
 * The language of this poem has been blamed, on 
 account of its vulgarity. The Scotch dialedl is fufficient- 
 ly ruftic, even in its moft improved ftate : but in the 
 Gentle Shepherd It is often debafed by a phrafeology not 
 to be met with, except among the moft illiterate people. 
 Writers on paftoral have not always been careful to diftin- 
 guifti between coarfenefs and ftrnplicity j and yet a plain 
 fuit of deaths and a bundle of rags are not more difter- 
 ent. 
 
 pronounced
 
 I20 ONPOETRY PartL 
 
 pronounced upon it by Horace * ; yet is it 
 true, notwithftanding, that in this art, as 
 in many other good things, the point of ex- 
 cellence lies in a middle between two ex- 
 tremes ; and has been reached by thofe on- 
 ly who fought to improve nature as far as 
 the genius of their work would permit, keep- 
 ing at an equal diftance from rufticity on 
 the one hand, and affe(5led elegance on the o- 
 ther. 
 
 If it were afked, what efFedls a view of 
 nature degraded, or rendered lefs perfecfl than 
 the reality, would produce in poetry ; I 
 fliould anfwer. The fame which caricatura 
 produces in painting;-— it would make the 
 piece ludicrous. In almofl every counte- 
 nance, there are fome exceptionable features, 
 by heightening the deformity whereof, it is 
 eafy to give a ridiculous likenefs even of a 
 good face. And in moft human charadlers 
 there are blemiflies, moral, intellectual, or 
 corporeal, by exaggerating which to a certain 
 degree^ you may form a comic chara(5ler ; as 
 by railing the virtues, abilities, or external 
 advantages of individuals, you form Epic or 
 Tragic characflers. I fay, to a certain degree ; 
 for if, by their vices, want of underftand- 
 ing, or bodily infirmities, they fhould raife 
 difguft, pity, or any other important emo- 
 tion, they are then no longer the objecfis of 
 comic ridicule; and it is an egregious fault 
 
 * Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. 373. 
 
 2 in
 
 Ch. V. A N D M U S I C. 121 
 
 in a writer to attempt to make them fo ■'. It 
 is a fault, becavife it proves his judgement 
 to be perverted, and tends to pervert the {eii- 
 timents, and ruin the morals of mankind. 
 
 But is nature always degraded in Comic 
 performances ? I anfwer. No ; neither is it 
 always improved, as we remarked already, 
 in ferious poetry. Some human characflers 
 are fo truly heroic, as to raife admiration, 
 without any heightenings of poetical art ; and 
 fome are fo truly laughable, that the comic 
 writer would have nothing to do, but to re- 
 prefent them as they are. Befides, to raife 
 laughter is not always the aim, either of the 
 Epic Comedy f , or of the Dramatic : fub- 
 lime paflions and characflers are Sometimes 
 introduced ; and thefe may be heightened as 
 much as the poet finds neceilary for his pur- 
 pofe, provided that, in his ftyle, he affecSb no 
 heroical elevation ; and that his a(ftion, and 
 the rank of his perfons, be fuch as might 
 probably be met with in common life. In 
 regard to fable, and the order of events, all 
 Comedy requires, or at lead admits, as great 
 perfe<5lion as Epic poetry itfelf. 
 
 * See ElTay on Laughter, chap. 3. 
 
 t Of the Epic Comedy, which might perhaps be called 
 rather the Comic Epopee, Tom Jones and Jmelia are ex- 
 amples. 
 
 Vol. II. Q^ CHAP.
 
 122 ONPOETRY PartL 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 Remarks on Mufict 
 
 SECT. I. 
 
 Of Imitation, Is Mufic an Imitative Art ? 
 
 AN from his birth is prone to imi-» 
 tation, and takes great pleafure in it. 
 At a time when he is too young to under- 
 fland or attend to rules, he learns, by imi- 
 tating others, to fpeak, and walk, and do 
 many other things equally requifite to life 
 and happinefs. Moft of the fports of chil- 
 dren are imitative, and many of them dra- 
 matical. Mimickry occaiions laughter ; and 
 a juft imitation of human life upon the flage 
 is highly delightful to perfons of all ranks, 
 conditions, and capacities. 
 
 Our natural propenfity to imitation may 
 in part account for the pleafure it yields : 
 for that is always pleahng which gratifies 
 natural propenfity ; nay, to pleafe, and to 
 gratify, are almoft fynonymous terms. Yet 
 the peculiar charm of imitation may alfo 
 be accounted for upon other principles. To 
 
 compare
 
 Ch. VI. I. AND MUSIC. 123 
 
 compare a copy with the original, and trace 
 out the particulars wherein they differ and 
 wherein they relemble, is in itfelf a pleafing 
 exercife to the mind ; and, when accompa- 
 nied with admiration of the objedl imitated, 
 and of the genius of the imitator, conveys a 
 moft intenfe delight; which may be render- 
 ed (till more intenfe by the agreeable qua- 
 lities of the injirument of imitation, — by the 
 beauty of the colours in painting, by the 
 harmony of the language in poetry ; and 
 in mufic, by the fweetnefs, mellownefs, pa- 
 thos, and other pleafing varieties of vocal 
 and inflrumental found. And if to all this 
 there be added, the merit of a moral defign. 
 Imitation will then ihine forth in her moft a- 
 miable form, and the enraptured heart ac- 
 knowledge her powers of pleafing to be ir- 
 refiflible. 
 
 Such is the delight we have in imitation, 
 that what Would in itfelf give neither plea- 
 fure nor pain, may become agreeable when 
 well imitated. We fee without emotion ma- 
 ny faces, and other familiar obje6ls; but a 
 good picture even of a flone, or common 
 plant, is not beheld with indifference. No 
 wonder, then, that what is agreeable in it- 
 felf, Ihould, when furveyed through the me- 
 dium of fkilful imitation, be highly agree- 
 able. A good portrait of a grim counte- 
 nance is pleafing ; bvit a portrait equally good 
 of a beautiful one is ftill more fo. Nay, 
 though a man in a violent paffion, a mon- 
 0^2 ftrous
 
 124 ONPOETRY Part L 
 
 ftrous wild beaft, or a body agonized witli 
 pain, be a moft unpleafing fpectacle, a pic- 
 ture, or poetical delcription of it, may be 
 contemplated with delight ■'■ ; the pleafure 
 we take in the artiiTs ingenuity, joined to 
 our confcioufnefs that the object before us 
 is not real, being more than fufficient to 
 counterbalance every difagreeable feeling oc- 
 cafioned by the deformity of the figure '[, 
 Even human vices, infirmities, and misfor- 
 tunes, when well reprefented on the ftage, 
 
 * Arlflot. Poet. fedl. 4. j Gei-ard on Tafte, pai-t i. 
 Tea. 4. 
 
 t Plclures, however, of grent merit as imitations, and 
 valuable for the morality ot the defign, may yet be too 
 horrid to be contemplated with pleafure. A robbei', 
 Avho had broke into a repofitory of the dead, in or- 
 der to plunder a corpfe of fome rich ornaments, is faid 
 to have been fo aftltftcd with the hideous fpectacle of 
 mortality which prefcnted iifclf when he opened the 
 coffin, that he flunk away, trembling and weeping, with- 
 out being- able to execute his purpofe. I have met with 
 an excellent print upon this fubject j but was never able 
 to look at it for half a minute together. Too many ob- 
 jects of the fame charadfer may be feen in HogarthV 
 
 Progrcfs of Cruelty. There is another clafs of Ihock- 
 
 ing ideas, which poets have not always been fufficiently 
 careful to avoid. Juvenal and Swift, and even Pope 
 himfelf, have given us defcriptions which it turns one's 
 llomach to think of. And I mud: confefs, that, not- 
 withftaiiding the authority of Atterbury and Addifon, 
 and the general merit of the paflage, I could never re- 
 concile myfclf to fome filthy ideas, which, to the un- 
 fpeakable laiisfuclion of Mr Voltaire, Milton has imwa- 
 rily ititrcducsd \n the famous allegory of Sin and Death. 
 
 form
 
 Ch. VI. I. AND MUSI C. 125 
 
 form a mofh interefting amufement. So great 
 is the charm of imitation. 
 
 That has been thought a ver)^ myfterious 
 pleafure, which we take in witnefling tra- 
 gical imitations of human acflion, even while 
 they move us to pity and forrow. Several 
 caufes feem to co-operate in producing it. 
 I . It gives an agreeable agitation to the mind, 
 to be deeply interefled in any event, that is 
 not attended with real harm to ourfelves or 
 others. Nay, certain events of the mofl: 
 fubflantial diflrefs would feem to give a 
 gloomy entertainment to fome minds : elfe 
 v/hy ihould men run fo eagerly to fee fliip- 
 wrecks, executions, riots, and even battles, 
 and fields of flaughter ? But the diftrefs up- 
 on the ftage neither is, nor is believed to be, 
 real j and therefore the agreeable exercife it 
 may give to the mind is not allayed by any 
 bitter reflexions, but is rather heightened by 
 this confideration, that the whole is imagi- 
 nary. To thofe who miftake it for real, as 
 children are faid to do fometimes, it gives 
 no pleafure, but intenfe pain. 2. Through- 
 out the performance, we admire the genius 
 of the poet, as it appears in the language 
 and fentiments, in the right condu(fi: of the 
 fable, in diverfifying and fupporting the 
 charadlers, and in deviling incidents aifecfl- 
 ing in themfelves, and conducive to the main 
 delign. 3. The ingenuity of the adors muil 
 be allowed to be a principal caufe of the plea- 
 fure with which we witnefs either tragedy 
 
 or
 
 126 O N P O E T R Y Part t 
 
 or comedy. A bad play well adled may pleafe, 
 and in f a(51 often does ; but a good play ill 
 acled is intolerable. 4. We fympathife with 
 the emotions of the audience, and this height- 
 ens our own. For I apprehend, that no per- 
 fon of fenObilitv would chufe to be the fole 
 fpecflator of a play, if he had it in his 
 power to fee it in company with a multi- 
 tude. When we have read by ourfelves a 
 pleafing narrative, till it has loft every charm 
 that novelty can beftow, we may renew its 
 relifh by reading it in company, and per- 
 haps be even more entertained than at the 
 firft perufal. 5. The ornaments of the thea- 
 tre, the mufic, the fcenery, the fplendor of 
 the company, nay the very drefs of the play- 
 ers, muft be allowed to contribute fomething 
 to our amufement : elfe why do managers 
 expend fo much money in decoration \ And, 
 laftly, let it be obferved, that there is fome- 
 thing very peculiar in the nature of pity. 
 The pain, however exquihte, that accompa- 
 nies this amiable affecftion, is fuch, that a 
 man of a generous mind w^ould not difquali- 
 fy himfelf for it, even if he could : nor is 
 the " luxury of woe," that we read of in 
 poetry, a mere figure of fpeech, but a real 
 fenfation, wherewith every perfon of hu- 
 manity is acquainted, by frequent experience* 
 Pity produces a tendernefs of heart very 
 friendly to virtuous imprelTions. It inclines 
 us to be circumfpe6l and lowly, and fenfible 
 of the uncertainty of human things, and of 
 
 our
 
 Ch. VI. I. AND MUSI C. 127 
 
 our dependence upon the great Author of 
 our being ; while continued joy and profpe- 
 rity harden the heart, and render men proud, 
 irreUgious, and inattentive : fo that Solo- 
 mon had good reafon for affirming, that 
 " by the fadnefs of the countenance the heart 
 " is made better." The exercife of pity, e- 
 ven towards imaginary fufFerings, cannot fail 
 to give pleafure, if attended, as it generally 
 is, with the approbation of reafon and con- 
 fcience, declaring it to be a virtuous afFecflion, 
 produ6live of fignal benefit to fociety, and 
 peculiarly fuitable to our condition, honour- 
 able to our nature, and amiable in the eyes 
 of our fellow-creatures *. 
 
 Since Imitation is fo plentiful a fource of 
 pleafure, we need not wonder, that the i- 
 mitative arts of poetry and painting fliould 
 have been greatly elleemed in every en- 
 lightened age. The imitation itfelf, which 
 is the work of the artift, is agreeable ; the 
 thing imitated, which is nature, is alfo a- 
 greeable ; and is not the fame thing true of 
 the inftrument of imitation ? Or does any 
 one doubt, whether harmonious language 
 be pleafing to the ear, or certain arrange- 
 ments of colour beautiful to the eye ? 
 
 Shall I apply thefe, and the preceding rea- 
 fonings, to the Mufical Art alfo, which I 
 
 * Since thefe remarks were written, Dr Campbell has 
 publlfhed a very accurate and ingenious diflertation oa 
 \l^is lubje<St. See his Philofophy of Rhetoric, vol. i. 
 
 have
 
 X28 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 have elfewhere called, and which is general- 
 ly underftood to be, Imitative ? Shall I fay, 
 that fome melodies pleafe, becaufe they imi- 
 tate nature, and that others, which do not i- 
 niitate nature, are therefore unpleahng ? — 
 that an air expreiTive of devotion, for [exam- 
 ple, is agreeable, becaufe it prefents us with 
 an imitation of thofe founds by which de- 
 votion does naturally exprefs itfelf ? 
 
 Such an affirmation would hardly pafs up- 
 on the reader; notwithflanding the plaufibi- 
 lity it might feem to derive from that ftridl 
 analogy v/hich all the fine arts are fuppofed 
 to bear to one another. He v/ould afk, 
 What is the natural found of devotion ? 
 "Where is it to be heard ? When was it 
 heard ? What refemblance is there between 
 Handel's Te Deurn^ and the tone of voice 
 natural to a perfon expreffing, by articulate 
 found, his veneration of the Divine Cha- 
 ra6ler and Providence ? — In facl, I appre- 
 hend, that critics have erred a little in their 
 determinations upon this fubjedl, from an 
 opinion, that Muiic, Painting, and Poetry, 
 are ail imitative arts. I hope at lead I may 
 fay, without offence, that while this was my 
 opinion, I was always confcious of fome un- 
 accountable confulion of thought, whenever 
 I attempted to explain it in the way of detail 
 to others. 
 
 But while I thus infinuate, that Mufic is 
 
 not an imitative art, I mean no difrefpedl to 
 
 Ariftotle, who feems in the beginning of his 
 
 2 Poetics
 
 Ch. VI. I. A N D M U S I C. 129 
 
 Poetics to declare the contrary. It is not the 
 whole, but the greater part of mufic, which 
 that philofopher calls Imitative; and I agree 
 with him fo flir as to allow this property to 
 fome mufic, though not to all. But he 
 fpeaks of the ancient mufic, and I of the 
 modern ; and to one who confiders how 
 very little we know of the former, it will 
 not appear a contradid:ion to fay, that the 
 one might have been imitative, though the 
 other is not. 
 
 Nor do I mean any difrefpedl to mufic, 
 when I would ftrike it off the lill of imita- 
 tive arts. I allow it to be a fine art, and to 
 have great influence on the human foul : 
 I grant, that, by its power of railing a va- 
 riety of agreeable emotions in the hearer, it 
 proves its relation to poetry, and that it ne- 
 ver appears to the beft advantage but with 
 poetry for its interpreter : and I am fatisfied, 
 that, though mufical genius may fubfifl with- 
 out poetical tafte, and poetical genius with- 
 out mufical tafte ; yet thefe two talents uni- 
 ted might accomplilli nobler effecfls, than 
 either could do fingly. I acknowledge too, 
 that the principles and eflential rules of this 
 art are as really founded in nature, as thofe 
 of poetry and painting. But when I am afk- 
 ed, What part of nature is imitated in any 
 good picture or poem, I find I can give a de- 
 finite anfwer : whereas, when I am aiked. 
 What part of nature is imitated in Handel's 
 Water-mufiCy for inflance, or in Corelli's 
 
 Vol. II, 11 eighth.
 
 I30 ONPOETRY Parti, 
 
 eighth concerto^ or in any particular Englifh 
 fong or Scotch tune, I find I can give no de- 
 finite anfwer : — though no doubt I might 
 fay fome plaufible things ; or perhaps, after 
 much refinement, be able to Ihow, that Mufic 
 may, by one Ihift or other, be made an imi- 
 tative art, provided you allow me to give any 
 meaning I pleafe to the word iiJiitati've. 
 
 Mufic is imitative, wdien it readily puts 
 one in mind of the thing imitated. If an 
 expiication be necefTary, and if, after all, we 
 find it difficult to recognife any exa(5l fimili- 
 tude, I would not call fuch mufic an imita-' 
 tion of nature ; but confider it as upon a foot-' 
 ing, in point of likenefs, with thofe pidlures, 
 wherein the acSlion cannot be known but 
 by a label proceeding from the mouth of 
 the agent, nor the fpecies of animal afcer- 
 tained without a name written under it. But 
 between imitation in mufic and imitation 
 in painting, there is this one efTential differ- 
 ence : — a bad picture is, always a bad imi- 
 tation of nature, and a good pi6lure is ne- 
 cefTarily a good imitation ; but mufic may be 
 exa(5lly imitative, and yet intolerably bad; 
 or not at all imitative, and yet perfedtly 
 good, i have heard, that the Pajlorale in 
 the eighth of Corelli's Concertos (which ap- 
 pears by the infcription to have been com- 
 pofed for the night of the Nativity) was in- 
 tended for an imitation of the fong of an- 
 gels hovering above the fields of Bethlehem, 
 and gradually foaring up to heaven. The 
 
 mufic,
 
 Ch. VI. I. A N D M U S I C. 131 
 
 mufic, however, is not fuch as would of 
 itfelf convey this idea : and, even w^ith the 
 help of the commentary, it requires a lively 
 fancy to connedl the various movements and 
 melodies of the piece with the motions and 
 evolutions of the heavenly hoft; as fome- 
 times flying ofl^, and fometimes returning; 
 finging Ibmetimes in one quarter of the fl^y, 
 and Ibmetimes in another ; now in one or 
 two parts, and now in full chorus. It is not 
 clear, that the author intended any imita- 
 tion ; and whether he did or not, is a mat- 
 ter of no confequence ; for the mufic will 
 continue to pleafe, when the tradition is no 
 more remembered. The harmonies of this 
 pafiorale are indeed fo uncommon, and fo ra- 
 vifliingly fweet, that it is almofh impoflible 
 not to think of heaven when one hears them. 
 I w^ould not call them imitative; but I be- 
 lieve they are finer than any imitative mufic 
 in the world. 
 
 Sounds in themfelves can imitate nothing 
 dire6lly but founds, nor in their motions any 
 thing but motions. But the natural founds 
 and motions that mufic is allowed to imi- 
 tate, are but few. For, firft, they mufl all 
 be confiflent with the fundamental principles 
 of the art, and not repugnant either to 
 melody or to harmony. Now, the founda- 
 tion of all true mufic, and the moft perfect 
 of all mufical inftruments, is the human 
 voice; w^hich is therefore the prototype of 
 the mufical fcale, and a ftandard of mufical 
 R 2 found.
 
 132 ONPOETRY Part L 
 
 found. Noifes, therefore, and inharmonious 
 notes of every kind, which a good voice cannot 
 utter without Uraining, ought to be excluded 
 from this pleafnig art : for it is impoffible, 
 that thofe vocal founds which require any 
 vinnatural efforts, either of the fmger or 
 fpeaker, ihould ever give permanent grati- 
 fication to the hearer. I fay, permanent gra- 
 tification ; for 1 deny not, that the preterna- 
 tural fcreams of an Italian finger may occa- 
 fion furprife, and momentary amufement : 
 but thofe fcreams are not mufic ; they are 
 admired, not for their propriety or pathos, 
 but, like rope-dancing, and the eating of fire, 
 merely becaufe they are uncommon and 
 
 difficult. Befides, the end of all genuine 
 
 mufic is, to introduce into the human mind 
 certain affecfiions, or fufceptibilities of af- 
 fe6lion. Now, all the afiedions, over which 
 mufic has any power, are of the agreeable 
 kind. And therefore, in this art, no imita- 
 tions of natural found or motion, but fuch 
 as tend to infpire agreeable affedions, ought 
 ever to find a place. The fong of certain 
 birds, the murmur of a ftream, the Ihouts of 
 multitudes, the tumult of a fi:orm, the roar 
 of thunder, or a chime of bells, are founds 
 connecfled with agreeable or fublime affec- 
 tions, and reconcileable both with melody 
 and with harm.ony ; and may therefore be 
 imitated, when the artift has occafion for 
 them : but the crowing of cocks, the bark- 
 ing of dogs, the mewing of cats, the grunt- 
 ing
 
 Ch. VI. I. AND MUSIC. 133 
 
 ing of fwine, the gabbling of geefe, the cack- 
 Ung of a hen, the braying of an afs, the 
 creaking of a faw, or the rumbHng of a 
 cart-wheel, would render the beft mufic ri- 
 diculous. The inovement of a dance may 
 be imitated, or the ftately pace of an em- 
 battled legion ; but the hobble of a trotting 
 horfe would be intolerable. 
 
 There is another fort of imitation by found, 
 which ought never to be heard, or feen, in 
 mufic. To exprefs the local elevation of ob- 
 jedls by what 'we call high notes, and their 
 deprefTion by loiv or deep notes, has no more 
 propriety in it, than any other pun. We call 
 notes high or /oif , with refpedl of their fitua- 
 tion in the written fcale. There woijld have 
 been no abfurdity in exprefling the higheft 
 notes by chara6lers placed at the bottom of 
 the fcale or mufical line, and the lowed 
 notes by charaders placed at the top of it, 
 if cuftom or accident had fo determined. 
 And there is reafon to think, that fomething 
 like this adlually obtained in the mufical 
 fcale of the ancients. At leafl it is probable, 
 that the deepefl or graveft found was called 
 Sunifna by the Romans, and the fhrillefl or 
 acuteft Ima ; which might be owing to the 
 conflrudlion of their inftruments ; the firing 
 that founded the former being perhaps high- 
 eft in place, and that which founded the lat- 
 ter loweft. — Yet fome people would think 
 a fong faulty, if the word heaven was fet to 
 
 what
 
 134 ON POETRY Partt 
 
 what we call a loiu note, or the word hell to 
 what we call a hi<rh one. 
 
 O 
 
 All thefe forts of illicit imitation have been 
 pracftifed, and by thofe too from whom bet- 
 ter things were expe(5led. This abufe of a 
 noble art did not efcape the latire of Swift ; 
 who, though' deaf to the charms of mufic, 
 was not blind to the abfurdity of muficians. 
 He recommended it to Dr Ecclin, an inge- 
 nious gentleman of Ireland, to compofe a 
 Cantata in ridicule of this puerile mimicry. 
 Here we have motions imitated, which are the 
 nioft inharmonious, and the leaft connected 
 with human affections ; as the trotting^ am- 
 blings and galloping s of Pegafus ; and founds 
 the mofl unmufical, as crackhng and fnive- 
 ling, and rough royjlering rujiic roaring Jirains : 
 the words high and deep have high and deep 
 notes fet to them ; a feries of Ihort notes 
 of equal lengths are introduced, to imitate 
 Jloiuering and Jhaking ; an irregular rant of 
 quick founds, to exprefs rambling; a fud- 
 den rife of the voice, from a low to a high 
 pitch, to denote ^)'i;/^ above the fiy ; a ri- 
 diculous run of chromatic divifions on the 
 words Celia dies; with other droll contri- 
 vances of a like nature. In a word. Swift's 
 Cantata alone may convince any perfon, that 
 inufic uniformly imitative would be ridicu- 
 lous. 1 j^ilt obferve in paihng, that the 
 
 i'atire of this piece is levelled, not at abfurd 
 imitation only, but alio at fome other mu- 
 fical improprieties; fuch as the idle repeti- 
 tion
 
 Ch. VI. I. AND MUSIC. 135 
 
 tion of the fame words, the rtinnuig of long 
 extravagant divifions upon one fyllable, and 
 the fetting of words to inufic that have no 
 meaning. 
 
 If I were entitled to fnggefb any rules in 
 this art, I would humbly propofe, (and a 
 great mufician and ingenious' writer feems 
 to be of the fame mind *), that no imita- 
 tion fliould ever be introduced into mufic 
 purely inflrumental. Of vocal melody the 
 exprellion is, or ought to be, afcertained by 
 the poetry; but the exprefTion of the bcfl 
 inflrumental mufic is ambiguous. In this, 
 therefore, there is nothing to lead the mind 
 of the hearer to recognife the imitation, 
 which, though both legitimate and accurate, 
 w^ould run the rifl^ of being overlooked and 
 loft. If, again, it were fo very exadl, as to 
 lead our thoughts inftantly to the thing imi- 
 tated, we fliould be apt to attend to the i- 
 mitation only, fo as to remain infenfible to 
 the general efFedt of the piece. In a word, 
 I am inclined to think, that imitation in 
 an inftrumental concerto would produce ei- 
 ther no effect, or a bad one. The fame 
 reafons would exclude it from inflrumental 
 folos ; provided they were fuch as def erve to 
 be called mufic : — if they be contrived only 
 to fhow the dexterity of the performer, imi- 
 tations, and ail poflible varieties of found, 
 may be thrown in ad hbitiini ; any thing will 
 
 f Ayifon on Mufical Expreffion, p. 57. 60. fecond edit. 
 
 do,
 
 136 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 do, that can aftonifh the audience ; but to 
 fuch fiddling or fingering I would no more 
 give the honourable name of Mufic, than I 
 would apply that of Poetry to Pope's *' Flut- 
 *' tering fpread thy purple pinions," or to 
 Swift's Ode on D it ton and Whifion. 
 
 In vocal mufic, truly fuch, the words 
 render the expreflion determinate, and fix 
 the hearer's attention upon it. Here there- 
 fore legitimate imitations may be employ- 
 ed ; both becaufe the fubjedl of the fong will 
 render them intelligible, and becaufe the at- 
 tention of the hearer is in no danger of be- 
 ing feduced from the principal air. Yet even 
 here, thefe imitations mufl be laid upon the 
 inflrumental accompaniment, and by no 
 means attempted by the finger, unlefs they 
 are exprefilve, and mufical, and may be ea- 
 fily managed by the voice. In the fong, 
 which is the principal part, expreflion fhould 
 be predominant, and imitations never ufed 
 at all, except to afiift the exprefiion. Befides, 
 the tones of the human voice, though the 
 moll pathetic of all founds, are not fiiited 
 to the quirks of imitative melody, which 
 will always appear to beft advantage on an 
 inflrument. In the firfl part of that excel- 
 lent fong, " Hide me from day's gairifli 
 *' eye, " While the bee with honey'd thigh 
 " At her flowery work does fing, " And the 
 *' waters murmuring, " With fuch concert 
 *' as they keep, " Intice the dewy feather'd 
 '' fleep," — Handel imitates the murmur of 
 2 groves
 
 Ch. VI. I. AND MUSI C. 137 
 
 groves and waters by the accompanimeat of 
 tenors : in another fong of the fame Oratorio^ 
 '' On a plat of rlfing ground, " I hear the 
 " far-off curfew found, " Over fome wide- 
 ** water'd fliore, *' Swinging flow with ful- 
 len roar," — he makes the bafs imitate the 
 evening-bell : in another fine fong, " Hulh, 
 ** ye pretty warbling choir," — he accom- 
 panies the voice with a flageolet that imitates 
 the finging of birds: in the "Sweet bird 
 " that ihun'ft the noife of folly," tlie chief 
 accompaniment is a German flute imitating 
 occafionally the notes of the nightingale. — 
 Sometimes, where exprefTion and imitation 
 happen to coincide, and the latter is eafily 
 managed by the voice, he makes the fong 
 itfelf imitative. Thus, in that fong, " Let 
 " the merry bells ring round, " And the 
 *' jocund rebecks found, " To many a 
 *' youth and many a maid, " Dancing in 
 " the chequer'd fliade," — he makes the voice 
 in the beginning imitate the found of a 
 chime of bells, and in the end the motion and 
 gaiety of a dance. 
 
 Of thefe imitations no body will queflion 
 the propriety. But Handel, notwithftanding 
 his inexhauftible invention, and w^onderful 
 talents in the fublime and pathetic, is fjb- 
 jecl to fits of trifling, and frequently errs in 
 the application of his imitative contrivances. 
 In that fong " What pafTion cannot miiiic 
 " raife and quell," when he comes to the 
 "?\'ords, " His liftening brethren flood around. 
 
 Vol, II. ' S " And
 
 138 ON POETRY Parti. 
 
 *' And wondering on their faces /^//," — 
 the accompanying violoncello falls Suddenly 
 from a quick and high movement to a very 
 deep and long note. In another fong of the 
 fame piece *, *' Sharp violins proclaim 
 " Their jealous pangs and defperation, " Fu- 
 *' ry, frantic indignation, " Depth of pains 
 " and height of paiiion, " For the fair dif- 
 *' dainful dame;" — the words " Depth of 
 " pains and height of palTion," are thrice re- 
 peated to different keys ; and the notes of 
 the firft claufe are conftantly deep^ and thofe 
 of the fecond as regularly high. The poet 
 however is not lefs blameablc than the mu- 
 iician. — And many other examples of the 
 fame kind might be produced from the works 
 of this great artift f . 
 
 What has been faid may ferve to fliow 
 both the extent, and the merit of Imita- 
 tive MuUc X' It extends to thofe natural 
 founds and motions only, which are agree- 
 
 * Dryden's Ode on St Cecilia's day. 
 
 •f- That pretty pafloral ode of Shakefpeai-e, '* Whea 
 *' dailies pied and violets blue," has been fet to mufic by 
 Mr Levcridge j who makes the finger imitate, not only 
 the note of the cuckoo, (which may be allowed, becaufc 
 eafily performed, and perfe£lly mulical), but alfo the 
 Ihriek of the owl. 
 
 :j; By Imitative Mufic I mufl: always be underftood to 
 mean, tiiat which imitates natural founds and motions. 
 Fugues, and other- fimilar contrivances, which, like e- 
 choes, repeat or imitate particular portions of the me- 
 loJy, it belongs not to this pliiC(; to confider. 
 
 able
 
 Ch. VI. I. AND Must C. 139 
 
 able in themfelves, confiftent with melody 
 and harmony, and afTociated with agreeable 
 afFeiflions and fentiments. Its merit is fo 
 inconhderable, that mufic purely inftriunen- 
 tal is rather hurt than improv^ed by it ; and 
 vocal mufic employs it only as a help to 
 the exprellion, except in fome rare cafes, 
 where the imitation is itfelf expreflive as 
 well as agreeable, and at the fame time with- 
 in the power of the human voice. 
 
 The bed mafters lay it down as a maxim, 
 that melody and harmony are not to be de- 
 ferted, even for the fake of exprellion itfelf ''^\ 
 Exprefhon that is not confident with thefe 
 is not miifical exprefTion ; and a compofer 
 who does not render them confident, violates 
 the effential rules of his art -f*. If we com- 
 pare 
 
 * Avifon on Mufical Expreffion, page 56. 
 
 f Harmony and Melody are as eflential to genuine 
 nrulic, as perfpe<Stive is to painting. However felicitous 
 a painter may be to give expreffion to the figures in his 
 back ground, he muft not ftrengthen their colour, nor 
 define their outlines, fo as to hurt the perfpective by 
 bringing them too near, A mufician Avill be equally 
 faulty, if he violate the harmony of his piece, in order 
 to heighten the pathos. There is likewife in poetry 
 fomething analogovis to this. In thofe poems that re- 
 quire a regular and uniform verfification, a poet may 
 perhaps, in fame rare inflances, be allowed to break 
 through the rules of his verfe, for the fake of ren-ler- 
 ing his numbers more emphatical. Milion at Icaft i? 
 intitled to take fuch a liberty : 
 
 Eternal wrath 
 
 Burn'd after thcni to the bottomlcfs pit. Piirad. Lofl, 
 
 S % And
 
 !40 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 pare Imitation with Expreffion, the fuperio- 
 ricy of the latter will be evident. Imita- 
 tion without ExprefTion is nothing : Imita- 
 tion detrimental to ExprefTion is fliulty : I- 
 mitation is never tolerable, at leaft in fe- 
 rious mufic, except it promote and be fub- 
 fervient to Exprellion. If then the higheft 
 excellence may be attained in inftrumental 
 muiic, without imitation ; and if, even in 
 vocal muiic, imitation have only a fecondary 
 merit ; it muft follow, that the imitation of 
 nature is not cflential to this art ; though 
 fometimcs, when judicioufly employed, it 
 may be ornamental. 
 
 Different palfions and fentiments do in- 
 deed give different tones and accents to the 
 
 Anil Virgil : 
 
 Proluit infano contorqiiens vortice fyivas 
 riuviorum rex EricLinus. Geor. i. 
 
 And Homer : 
 
 A/ a uiv aarriioz tihfit ipa.eiyKi ofuf^^iiUcy fV^of- Iliad ill. 
 
 But thefe licences mnft not be too glaring : and there- 
 fore 1 know not whether Dyer is not blameable for gi- 
 vi:ig us, in order to render his numbers imitative, a 
 Trochaic verfe of four feet and an half, inftead or aa 
 Iambic of five : 
 
 The pilgrim oft 
 
 At (}^?xl of night, midil: his oraifon hears . 
 
 Aghafc the voice of Time; difparting towers 
 
 'Tiir.ibUng all precipitate^ do"JJit ddj]j\i, 
 
 Ractling around, :kc. Ruins of Rome. 
 
 human
 
 Ch. VI. I. A N D M U S I C. 141 
 
 human voice. But can the tones of the moft 
 pathetic melody be faid to bear a reiemblance 
 to the voice of a man or woman fpeaking 
 from the impulfe of paflion ? — The flat hy^ 
 or minor mode, is found to be v^ell adapted 
 to a melancholy fubjedt; and, if I were dif- 
 pofed to refine upon the imitative qualities of 
 the art, 1 would give this for a reafon, that 
 melancholy, by depreffing the fpirits, weak- 
 ens the voice, and makes it rife rather by 
 minor thirds, which confift of but four femi- 
 tones, than by jnajor thirds, which confift 
 of five. But is not this reafon more fubtle 
 than folid ? Are there not melancholy airs 
 in xhc JJjarp key, and chearful ones in the 
 flat ? Nay, in the fame air, do we not 
 often meet with a tranfition from the one 
 key to the other, without any fenfible change 
 in the expreffion ? 
 
 Courage is apt to vent itfelf in a flrong 
 tone of voice : but can no mufical ftrains 
 infpire fortitude, but fuch as are fonorous ? 
 The Lacedemonians did not think fo ; o- 
 therwife they would not have ufed the mufic 
 of loft pipes when advancing to battle *. 
 If it be objecfled, that the firm deliberate va- 
 lour, which the Spartan mufic was intended 
 to infpire, does not exprefs itfelf in a blufier- 
 ing, but rather in a gentle accent, refem- 
 bling the mufic of foft pipes, I would re- 
 commend it to the objedor to chufe, from 
 
 i 
 
 * Aulus Geilius, lib. i. cap. ii. 
 
 all
 
 142 ONPOETRY Part L 
 
 all the mufic he is acquainted with, fuch an 
 air as he thinks would moil cfFedtually awa- 
 ken his courage ; and then confider, how 
 far that animating ftrain can be faid to re- 
 femble the accent of a commander compli- 
 menting his troops after a vi(fiory, or en- 
 couraging tr.em before it. Shakefpeare fpeaks 
 of the '^ fpirit-rtirring drum ;" and a moft 
 emphatical epithet it niuft be allowed to be. 
 But why docs the drum excite courage ? Is 
 it becaufc the found imitates the voice of a 
 valiant man ? or does the motion of the drum- 
 flicks bear any fimilitude to that of his legs 
 or arms ? 
 
 Many Chriftians (I wifli I could fay all) 
 know to their happy experience, that the 
 tones of the or:_^2n have a wonderful ■. power 
 in raifmg and animating devout affedions. 
 But will it be faid, that there is any refem.- 
 blance between the found of that noble in- 
 flrument, or the fineit compofitions that can 
 be played on it, and the voice of a human 
 creature employed in an atfl of v»'orfliip ? 
 
 One of the moft atfecling ilyles in m^ufic is 
 the Faf.oral. Some airs put us in mind of 
 the country, of *' rural fights and rural 
 " founds," and difpofe the heart to that 
 chearful tranquillity, that pleahng melancho- 
 ly, that " vernal dt light," which groves and 
 (ireams, flocks and herds, iiills and vallies, 
 infpire. But of what are thefe palloral airs 
 imitative ? Is it of the murmur of vraters, 
 the warbling of groves, the lowing of herds, 
 
 the
 
 Ch. VI. I. A N D M U S I C. 143 
 
 the bleating of flocks, or the echo of vales 
 and mountains ? Many airs are pailoral, 
 which imitate none of tliefe things. What 
 then do they imitate ? — the fongs of plough- 
 men, milkmaids, and (hepherds ? Yes : they 
 are fuch, as we think we have heard, or 
 might have heard, fung by the inhabitants 
 of the country. Then they muft rcfs^mhls 
 country-fongs ; and if fo, thefe fongs muft 
 alfo be in the paftoral flyle. Of what then 
 are thefe country-fongs, the fuppofed arche- 
 types of paftoral mufic, imitative ? Is it of 
 other country-fongs ? This lliifts the difS- 
 culty a ftep backward, but does not by any 
 means take it away. Is it of rural founds, 
 proceeding from things animated, or from 
 things inanimate? or of rural motions — of 
 men, beafts, or birds ? of winds, woods, or 
 waters ? — In a word, an air may be pafto- 
 ral, and in the higheft degree pleating, which 
 imitates neither found nor motion, nor any 
 thing t\^Q. whatever. 
 
 After all, it muft be acknovvdeclged, that 
 there is fome relation at leaft, or analogy, 
 if not fimilitude, between certain muftcai 
 founds, and mental affections. Soft mu- 
 fic may be confidered as analogous to gentle 
 emotions; and loud muGc, if the tones arc 
 fweet and not too rapid, to fublime ones ; 
 and a quick fucceftion of noify notes, like 
 thofe we hear from a drum, fcems to have 
 ibme relation to hurry and impetuoiity of 
 pallion. Sometimes, too, there is from na^ 
 
 turt?.
 
 144 ONPOETRY Part L 
 
 ture, and fometimes there comes to be from 
 cuftom, a connecflion between certain mufi- 
 cal inftruments, and certain places and occa- 
 fions. Thus a flute, hautboy, or bagpipe, 
 is better adapted to the purpoles of rural mu- 
 fic, than a fiddle, organ, or harpfichord, 
 becaufe more portable, and lefs liable to in- 
 jury from the weather : thus an organ, on 
 account both of its fize and loudnefs, re- 
 quires to be placed in a church, or fome 
 large apartment : thus violins and violoncel- 
 los, to which any degree of damp may prove, 
 hurtful, are naturally adapted to domeflic 
 ufe ; while drums and trumpets, fifes and 
 french-horns, are better fuited to the fervice 
 of the field. Hence it happens, that parti- 
 cular tones and modes of mufic acquire Inch 
 a connedlion with particular places, occa- 
 fions, and fentiments, that by hearing the 
 former we are put in mind of the latter, fo 
 as to be aiFecled with them more or lefs, 
 according to the circumflances. The found 
 of an organ, for example, puts one in mind 
 of a church, and of the afFecftions fuitable 
 to that place ; military mufic, of military 
 ideas ; and flutes and hautboys, of the 
 thoughts and images peculiar to rural life. 
 This may ferve in part to account for mu- 
 fical expreiiivenefs or efiicacy ; that is, to 
 explain how it comes to pafs, that certain 
 palTions are raifed, or certain ideas fuggeilcd, 
 by certain kinds of mufic : but this does not 
 prove mufic to be an imitative art, in the 
 2 fame
 
 Ch. VI. I. AND MUSI C. 145- 
 
 fiime fenfe wherein painting and poetry are 
 called imitative. For between a picture and 
 its original ; between the ideas fuggefted by 
 a poetical defcription and the obje6ls defcri- 
 bed, there is a flrid: limilitude : but between 
 foft mulic and a calm temper there is no flritft 
 fimilitude; and between the found of a drum 
 or of an organ and the affecftion of courage or 
 of devotion, betv,^een the mufic of iiutes and 
 a paftoral life, between a concert of violins 
 and a chearful company, there is only an 
 accidental connection, formed by cuflom, 
 and founded rather on the nature of the in- 
 ilruments, than on that of the mufic. 
 
 It may perhaps be thought, that man 
 learned to fing by imitating the birds ; and 
 therefore, as vocal mufic is allowed to have 
 been the prototype of inftrumental, that the 
 whole art mufl have been eflentially imita- 
 tive. Granting the fict, this only we could 
 infer from it, that the art was imitative at 
 firft : but that it ftill continues to be fo, does 
 not follow ; for it cannot be faid, either that 
 the flyle of our mufic refembles that of birds, 
 or that our mufical compofers make the Cong 
 of birds the model of their compofitions. 
 But it is vain to argue from hypotheiis : and 
 the fadl before us, though taken for granted 
 by fome authors, is deftitute of evidence, 
 and plainly abfurd. How can it be imagi- 
 ned, that mankind learned to fing bv imita- 
 ting the feathered race ? I vvould as foon fup- 
 pofe, that we learned to fpeak by imitating 
 
 Vol. II. T the
 
 146 ON POETRY Part I. 
 
 the neigh of a horfe, or to walk by obfer- 
 ving the motion of fiflies in water ; or that 
 the pohtical conllitution of Great Britain 
 was formed upon the plan of an ant-hillock. 
 Every mufician, who is but moderately in- 
 ftruded in the principles of his art, knows, 
 and can prove, that, in the JJoarp feries at 
 leaft, the divifions of the diatonic fcale, which 
 is the ftandard of human muiic, are no ar- 
 tificial contrivance, but have a real founda- 
 tion in nature : but the finging of birds, if 
 we except the cuckoo and one or two more, 
 is not reducible to that fcale,, nor to any o- 
 ther that was ever invented by man ; for 
 birds diverfify their notes by intervals which 
 the human organs cannot imitate without 
 unnatural efforts, and which therefore it is 
 not to be fuppofed that human art will ever 
 attempt to exprcfs by written fymbols. In 
 a word, it is plain, that nature intended 
 one kind of mufic for men, and another 
 for birds : and we have no more reafon to 
 think, that the former was derived by imi- 
 tation from the latter, than that the nefts of 
 a rookery were the prototype of the Gothic 
 architecture, or the combs in a bee-hive of 
 the Grecian. 
 
 Muiic, therefore, is pleafing, not becaufe 
 it is imitative, but becaufe certain melodies 
 and harmonies have an aptitude to raife cer- 
 tain paflions, affecflions, and fentiments in 
 the foul. And, confequently, the pleafares 
 we derive from melody and harmony are fel- 
 
 doiri,
 
 Ch. VI. I. AND MUSI C. 
 
 47 
 
 dom or never refolvable into that delight 
 which the human mind receives from the i- 
 mitation of nature. 
 
 All this, it may be faid, is but a difpute 
 about a word. Be it fo : but it is, not- 
 withftanding, a difpute fomewhat material 
 both to art and to fcience. It is material, 
 in fcience, that philofophers have a deter- 
 mined meaning to their words, and that 
 things be referred to their proper clafTes. 
 And it is of importance to every art, that 
 its deiign and end be rightly underftood, 
 and that artifts be not taught to believe that 
 to be effential to it, which is only adventi- 
 tious, often impertinent, for the mod part 
 imnecelfary, and at bed but ornamentah 
 
 SECT. II. 
 
 Honv are th£ pleafiires 'we derive from Miific to 
 be accounted for ? 
 
 T was faid, that certain melodies and har^ 
 monies have an aptitude to raife certain 
 pafTions, affecflions, and fentiments, in the 
 human foul. Let us now inquire a little 
 into the nature of this aptitude-, by endea- 
 vouring, from acknowledged principles of 
 the human confticution, to explain the caufe 
 of that pleafare which mankind derive from 
 T 2 mufic.
 
 148 O N P O E T R Y Parti. 
 
 *in\iiic. I am well aware of the delicacy of 
 the argument, and of my inability to do it 
 juflice ; and therefore I promife no com- 
 plete invelligation, nor indeed any thing 
 more than a few ciirfory remarks. As I have 
 no theory to fupport, and as this topic, 
 though it may amufe, is not of any great 
 utility, I fliall be neither poiitive in my afler- 
 tions, nor abflrufe in my reafoning. 
 
 The vulgar diftinguifli between the fenfe 
 of hearing, and that faculty by which we 
 receive pleafure from mufic, and which is 
 commonly called a muftcal ear. Every body 
 knows, that to hear, and to have a relilh for 
 melody, are two different things ; and that 
 many perlbns have^ the firft in perfection, 
 who are deftitute of the laft. The lail is in- 
 deed, like the firft, a gift of nature; and 
 may, like other natural gifts, languiili if 
 neglected, and improve exceedingly if ex- 
 ercifed. And though every perfbn v/ho 
 hears, might no doubt, by inllirueSiion and 
 long experience, be made feniible of the 
 iTiufical properties of found, fo far as to be 
 in fome meafure gratified w^ith good mufic 
 and difguiled with bad ; yet both his pain 
 and his pleafure would be very different in 
 kind and degree, from that which is con- 
 veyed by a true muncal ear. 
 
 I. Does not part of the pleafure, both of 
 melody and of harmony, arife from the very 
 nature of the notes that compofe it ? Cer- 
 tain inarticulate founds, efpecially when 
 
 continued.
 
 Ch. VI. 2. AND MUSI C. 149 
 
 continued, produce very pleafing efFecfls on 
 the mind. They feem to withdraw the at- 
 tention from the more tumultuous concerns 
 of life, and, without agitating the foul, to 
 pour gradually upon it a train of fofter ideas, 
 that fometimes lull and foothe the faculties, 
 and fometimes quicken fenfibility, and fli- 
 mulate the imagination. Nor is it altoge- 
 ther abfurd to fuppofe, that the human bo- 
 dy may be mechanically affedled by them. 
 If in a church one feels the floor, and the 
 pew, tremble to certain tones of the organ ; 
 if one firing vibrates of its own accord when 
 another is founded near it of equal length, 
 tenfion, and thicknefs ; if a perfon who 
 fneezes, or fpeaks loud, in the neighbour- 
 hood of a harpfichord, often hears the firings 
 of the inflrument murmur in the fame tone ; 
 we need not wonder, that fome of the finer 
 fibres of the human frame fliould be put in 
 a tremulous motion, when they happen to 
 be in unifon with any notes proceeding from 
 external objecls. — That certain bodily pains 
 might be alleviated by certain founds, was 
 believed by the Greeks and Romans : and we 
 have it on the befl authority, that one fpecies 
 at leafl of madnefs was once curable by me- 
 lody *. I have feen even inftrumental mufic 
 of little exprefTion draw tears from thofe who 
 had no knowledge of the art, nor any par- 
 ticular reliili for it. Nay, a friend of mine, 
 
 * Firft book of Samuel, chap. xvi. vcrf. 23. 
 
 who
 
 I50 ON POETRY Part I. 
 
 who is profoundly fkilled in the theory of 
 mufic, well acquainted with the animal eco- 
 nomy, and lingularly accurate in his in- 
 quiries into nature, affures me, that he has 
 been once and again wrought into a feverifh 
 fit by the tones of an Eolian harp. Thefe, 
 and other limilar fadls that might be men- 
 tioned, are not eafily accounted for, unlefs 
 we fuppofe, that certain founds may have a 
 mechanical influence upon certain parts of 
 the human body. — Be that however as it 
 will, it admits of no doubt, that the mind 
 may be agreeably affecfted by mere found, 
 in which there is neither meaning nor mo- 
 dulation ; not only by the tones of the Eolian 
 harp, and other muiical inftruments, but al- 
 fo by the murmur of winds, groves, and 
 water- falls * ; nay by the Ihouts of multi- 
 tudes, by the uproar of the ocean in a florm ; 
 and, Vv4ien one can liften to it without fear, 
 by that '* deep and dreadful organ-pipe," the 
 thunder itfelf. 
 
 Nothing is more valued in a muiical in- 
 flrument or performer, than fweetnefs, full- 
 nefs, and variety of tone. Sounds are dif- 
 agreeable, which hurt the ear by their flirill- 
 nefs, or which cannot be heard without pain- 
 
 * Qu?e tlbi, qnse tali reddam pro carmine dona ? 
 Nam neque me tantum venientis libiliis auftri, 
 Nee perculTa juvant flu^lu tarn littora, nee qu'^ 
 Saxoias inter dtcurrunt flumina vailes. 
 
 J^ifg. Eclog. 5. 
 
 ful
 
 Ch. Vr. 2. AND MUSIC. 151 
 
 ful attention on account of their exility. But 
 loud and melloiv founds, like thofe of thun- 
 der, of a llorm, and of the full organ, e- 
 levate the mind through the ear ; even as vaft 
 magnitude yields a pleafing aftonilhmcnt, 
 when contemplated by the eye. By fug- 
 gefting the idea of great power, and fome- 
 times of great expanfion too, they excite a 
 pleafing admiration, and feem to accord with, 
 the lofty genius of that foul whofe thief de- 
 fire is for truth, virtue, and immortality, 
 and the obje(5l of whofe moft delightful me- 
 ditation is the greateif and bell of Beings '^. 
 SiveetJiefi of tone, and beauty of fliape and 
 colour, produce a placid acquiefcence of 
 mind, accompanied with fome degree of joy, 
 which plays in a gentle fmile upon the coun- 
 tenance of the hearer and beholder. Equable 
 founds, like fmooth and level furfaces, are 
 in general more pleafing than fuch as are 
 rough, uneven, or interrupted; yet, as the 
 flowing curve, fo elTential to elegance of fi- 
 gure, and fo confpicuous in the outlines of 
 beautiful animals, is delightful to the eye; 
 fo notes gradually fivelling^ ?ind gradually de- 
 caying^ have an agreeable effect on the ear, 
 and on the mind ; the former tending to 
 roufe the faculties, and the latter to compofe 
 them; the one promoting gentle exercifc, 
 and the other reft. 
 
 * See Longiaus, feci. 34. Spectator, ^'^ 413. Pleafures 
 of Imaclnationj book i. verf. 15?. &c. 
 
 But
 
 152 O N P O E T R Y Part I. 
 
 But of all founds, that which makes its 
 way mofl direclly to the human heart, is 
 the human voice : and thofe inflruments 
 that approach neareft to it are in exprefTion 
 the mod pathetic, and in tone the nnofl: per- 
 fecfl. The notes of a man's voice, well tuned 
 and well managed, have a mellownefs, va- 
 riety, and energy, beyond thofe of any in- 
 ftrument; and a fine female voice, modu- 
 lated by fenfibility, is beyond comparifon the 
 fweeteft, and moft melting found, in art or 
 nature. Is it not ftrange, that the moft mu- 
 fical people upon earth, difiatisfied, as it 
 w^ould feem, with both thefe, fliould have 
 incurred a dreadful reproach, in order to 
 introduce a third fpecies of vocal found, 
 that has not the perfecflion of either ? For 
 may it not be affirmed with truth, that no 
 perfon of uncorrupted tafte ever heard for 
 the firft time the mufic I allude to, without 
 fom.e degree of horror ; proceeding not only 
 from the difagreeable ideas fuggefted by 
 what was before his eyes, but alio from the 
 thrilling fliarpnefs of tone that ftartled his 
 ear ? Let it not be faid, that bv this abo- 
 minable expedient, chorufes are rendered 
 more complete, and melodies executed, which 
 before were impracfticable. Nothing that 
 iliocks humanity ought to have a place in 
 human art ; nor can a good ear be gratified 
 with unnatural found, or a good tafle with 
 too intricate compofition. Surely, every lo- 
 ver of mufic, and of mankind, would wilh to 
 3 fee
 
 Cii. VVi. AND MUSIC. 
 
 5^ 
 
 fee a pra(5lice aboliflied which is in itfelf a 
 difgrace to both ; and, in its confcquences^ 
 fo far from being deiirable, that it cannot 
 truly be faid to do any thing more than to 
 debafe a noble art into trick and grimace, 
 and make the human breath a vehicle, not 
 to human fentiments, but to mere empty 
 fcreaming and fqualling. / 
 
 II. Some notes, when founded together, 
 have an agreeable, and others a difagreeable 
 efFecl. The former are co7icords, the latter 
 difcords. When the fluc5luations of air pro- 
 duced by two or more contemporary notes 
 do mutually coincide, the effedl is agreeable ; 
 when they mutually repel each other, the 
 effedl is difagreeable. Thefe coincidences are 
 not all equally perfect ; nor thefe repuUi.ons 
 equally ftrong : and therefore all concords 
 are not equally fweet, nor all difcords e- 
 tjually harlh. A man unfl^illed in mulic 
 might imagine, that the moft agreeable har- 
 mony * muil be made up of the fweeteil con- 
 cords, without any mixture of difcord : and 
 in like manner, a child might fancy, that 
 a feaft of fweet- meats would prove the mofl 
 delicious banquet. But both would be mif- 
 taken. The fame concord may be more or 
 lefs pleafing, according to its pofition ; and 
 
 * Melody^ in the language of art, is the agreeable 
 effeil of a fingle feries of mufical tones : Harmony is 
 the agreeable eiFecl of two or more feries of muiical tonss 
 founded at the fame taae. 
 
 Vol, II. U ' the
 
 154 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 the fwester concords often produce their beft 
 effecfl:, when they are introduced by the 
 harflier ones, or even by difcords ; for then 
 they are moft agreeable, becaufe they give 
 the greateft relief to the ear : even as health 
 is doubly delightful after ficknefs, liberty af- 
 ter confinement, and a fweet tafte when pre- 
 ceded by a bitter. DifTonance, therefore, 
 is necefiary to the perfection of harmony. 
 But confonance predominates ; and to fuch 
 a degree, that, except on rare occafions, and 
 by a nice ear, the difcord in itfelf is hardly 
 perceptible. 
 
 Muficians have taken pains to difcover 
 the principles on which concords and dif- 
 cords are to be fo arranged as to produce the 
 bell effecl ; and have thus brought the whole 
 art of harmony within the compafs of a cer- 
 tain number of rules, fome of which are 
 more, and others lefs indifpenfable. Thefe 
 rules admit not of demonftrative proof : for 
 though fome of them may be inferred by ra- 
 tional deduction from the very nature of 
 found ; yet the fupreme judge of their pro- 
 priety is the human ear. They are, how- 
 ever, founded on obfervation fo accurate and 
 fo juft, that no artift ever thought of calling 
 them in queftion. RoufTeau indeed fome- 
 where infinuates, that habit and education 
 might give us an equal relifli for a different 
 fyftem of harmony ; a fentiment which I 
 fhould not have expected from an author, who 
 for the moft part recommends an imphcit 
 
 confidence
 
 Ch. VI. 2. AND MUSIC. iss 
 
 confidence in our natural feelings, and v/ho 
 certainly underftands human nature well, 
 and mufic better than any other philofopher. 
 That a bafs of Jevenths or fourths^ or even 
 of fifths^ fhould ever become fo agreeable to 
 any human ear, as one conftrucfled according 
 to the fyftem, is to me as inconceivable, as 
 that Virgil, though turned into rugged profe, 
 ivould be read and admired as much as e- 
 ver. RoufTeau could not mean to extend 
 this remark to the whole fyftem, but only 
 to fome of its mechanical rules : and indeed 
 it muft be allowed, that in this, as well as 
 in other arts, there are rules which have no 
 better foundation than fafhion, or the practice 
 of fome eminent compofer. 
 
 Natural feniibility is not tafte, though it 
 be neceflary to it. A painter difcovers both 
 blemifhes and beauties in a pidlure, in which 
 an ordinary eye can perceive neither. In 
 poetical language, and in the arrangement 
 and choice of words, there are many nice- 
 ties, whereof they only are confcious who 
 have praclifed verfification, as well as ftu- 
 died the works of poets, and the rules of 
 the art. In like manner, harmony muft be 
 ftudied a little in its principles by every per- 
 fon who would acquire a true relifti for it; 
 and nothing but pra6lice will ever give that 
 quicknefs to his ear which is necefTary to en- 
 able him to enter with adequate fatisfacSlion,, 
 or rational diilike, into the merits or deme- 
 rits of a mufical performance. When once 
 U 2 he
 
 156 O N P O E T R Y Parti. 
 
 he can attend to the progrefs, relations, and 
 dependencies, of the feveral parts ; and re- 
 member the paft, and anticipate the future, 
 at the fame time he perceives the prefent; 
 fo as to be fenfible of the fldll of the com- 
 pofer, and dexterity of the performer ; — a 
 regular concerto, well executed, will yield 
 him high entertainment, even though its re- 
 gularity be its principal recommendation. 
 The pleafure which an untutored hearer de- 
 rives from it is far inferior : and yet there 
 is fomething in harmony that pleafes, and 
 in dilfonance that offends, every ear; and 
 were a piece to be playjpd confining wholly 
 of difcords, or put together without any re- 
 gard to rule, 1 believe no perfon whatever 
 would liften to it without great difguit. 
 
 Alter what has been briefly faid of the 
 agreeable qualities of muiical notes, it will 
 not feem flrange, that a piece, either of me- 
 lody or of harmony, of little or no expref- 
 hon, fliould, when elegantly performed, give 
 lome delight; not only to adepts, who can 
 trace out the various contrivances of the 
 compofer, but even to thofe who have little 
 or no fldll in this art, and mufl: therefore 
 look upon the whole piece as nothing more 
 than a combination of pleaflng founds. ^ 
 
 HI. But Pathos, or Expreffion, is the chief 
 excellence of muflc. Without this, it may 
 amiife the ear, it may give a little exercife 
 to the mind of tl e hearer, it may for a 
 moment withdraw the attention from the 
 
 anxities
 
 Ch. VI. 2. AND MUSI C. 157 
 
 anxieties of life, it may fliow the performer's 
 dexterity, the fl^ill of the compofer, or the 
 merit of the inflruments ; and in all or any 
 of thefe ways, it may afford a flight pleafure : 
 but, without engaging the affedlions, it 
 can never yield that permanent, ufeful, and 
 heart-felt gratification, which legiflators, ci- 
 vil, military, and ecclefiaflical, have expe6l- 
 ed from it. Is it abfurd to afcribe utility, 
 and permanence, to the efFe(5ts produced by 
 this noble art ? Let me expatiate a little 
 
 in its praife. Did not one of the wifeft, 
 
 and lead voluptuous, of all ancient legifla- 
 tors, give great encouragement to mufic * ? 
 
 Does not a mofl judicious author a- 
 
 fcribe the humanity of the Arcadians to the 
 influence of this art, and the barbarity of 
 their neighbours the Cynethians to their ne- 
 
 gle6l of it f ? Does not Montefquieu, 
 
 one of the firfl; names in modern philofo- 
 phy, prefer it to all other amufements, as 
 being that which leafl; corrupts the foul J ? 
 
 Quintilian is very copious in the praife 
 
 of mufic; and extols it as an incentive to 
 valour, as an inftrument of moral and intel- 
 lectual difcipline, as an auxiliary to fcience, 
 as an objedl of attention to the wifeft men, 
 and a fource of comfort and an aflTiftant in 
 
 * Lycurgus. See Plutarch. 
 
 t Polybius. Hift. lib. 4. 
 
 t Efprit des loix, liv. 4. ch. 8. 
 
 labour.
 
 158 ONPOETRY Part t 
 
 labour, even to the meanefr^ . The heroes 
 of ancient Greece were ambitious to excel in 
 mufic ; and it is recorded of Themiftoclesy 
 as fomething extraordinary, that he was not. 
 Socrates appears to have had checks of con- 
 fcience for negledting to accompHih himfelf 
 in this art ; for he tells Cebes, a little be- 
 fore he fw^allowed the deadly draught, that 
 he had all his life been haunted v^ith a dream, 
 in which one feemed to fay to him, " O So- 
 " crates, compofe and prad:ife mufic;" in 
 compliance with which admonition he amu- 
 fed himfelf while under fentence of death, 
 with turning fome of Efop's fables into verfe, 
 and making a hymn in honour of Apollo, 
 — the only fort of harmonious compoiition 
 that was then in his power f . In armies, 
 mulic has always been cultivated as a fource 
 of pleafure, a principle of regular motion, 
 and an incentive to valour and enthufiafm. 
 The Son of Sirach declares the ancient poets 
 and muficians to be worthy of honour, and 
 ranks them with the benefadlors of man- 
 kind t. Nay, Jefus Chrift and his apoltles 
 were pleafed to introduce this art into the 
 Chriftian worlhip ; and the church has in 
 every age followed the example. 
 
 Mufic, however, would not have recona-^ 
 
 * Inft. Orat. lib. i. cap. 8. 
 t Plat. Phsedon. fed. 4. 
 
 X Ecclefiaftlcus, xliv. i. — 8. 
 
 mender
 
 Ch. Vf. 2. AND MUSI C. 159 
 
 mended itfelf fo efFedtually to general eilieem, 
 if it had always been merely inftrumental. 
 For, if 1 miftake not, the expreflion of mu- 
 fie without poetry is vague and ambiguous ; 
 and hence it is, that the fame air may fome- 
 times be repeated to every (tanza of a long 
 ode or ballad. The change of the poet's i- 
 deas, provided the fubjecl continue nearly 
 the fame, does not always require a change 
 of the mufic : and if critics have ever deter- 
 mined otherwife, they were led into the mif- 
 take, by fuppoling, what every mufician 
 knows to be abfurd, that, in fitting verfes to 
 a tune, or a tune to verfes, it is more necef- 
 fary, that particular ivords fliould have par- 
 ticular notes adapted to them, than that the 
 general tenor of the muiic fliould accord with 
 the general nature of the fentirnents. 
 
 It is true, that to a favourite air, even 
 when imaccompanied with words, we do 
 commonly annex certain ideas, which may 
 have come to be related to it in confeqiience 
 of fome accidental affociations : and fome- 
 times we imagine a refembiance (which how- 
 ever is merely imaginary) between certain 
 melodies and certain thoughts or obje6ls. 
 Thus a Scotchman may fancy, that there is 
 fome fort of likenefs between that charming 
 air which he calls Tiveedfide^ and the fcenery 
 of a fine paftoral country ! and to the fame 
 air, even when only played on an inftru- 
 ment, he may annex the ideas of romantic 
 love and rural tranquillity; becaufe thefe 
 
 form
 
 i6o ONPOETRY Part L 
 
 form tlie fubjecl of a pretty little ode, which 
 he has often heard fung to that air. But 
 all this is the effedl of habit. A foreigner, 
 who hears that tune for the firfl time, en- 
 tertains no fuch fancy. The utmoft we can 
 expecfl from him is, to acknowledge the air 
 to be fweet and iimple. He would fmile, 
 if we were to alk him, whether it bears 
 any refemblance to the hills, groves, and 
 meadows, adjoining to a beautiful river ; nor 
 would he perhaps think it more expreflive 
 of romantic love, than of conjugal, parental, 
 or filial affedion, tender melancholy, mo- 
 derate joy, or any other gentle pafTion. Cer- 
 tain it is, that on any one of thefe topics, 
 an ode might be compofed, which would 
 fuit the air moft perfectly. So ambiguous 
 is mafical expreifion. 
 
 It is likewife true, that mufic merely in- 
 ftrumental does often derive fignificancy 
 from external circumftances. When an ar- 
 my in battle-array is advancing to meet the 
 enemy, words are not neceffary to give mean- 
 ing to the military mufic. And a folemn air 
 on the organ, introducing or dividing the 
 church-fervice, may not only elevate the 
 mind, and banifli impertinent thoughts, but 
 alfo, deriving energy from the fiirrounding 
 fcene, may promote religious meditation. 
 
 Nor can it be denied, that inftrumental 
 
 mufic may both quicken our fenfibility, and 
 
 give a direcllon to it; that is, may both 
 
 prepare the mind for being afteded, and de- 
 
 2 termine
 
 Cli. VI. 2. AND MUSIC. i6i 
 
 lermine it to one fet of afFeclions radicr than 
 another ; — to melancholy, for inilance, ra- 
 ther than merriment, compofure rather than 
 agitation, devotion rather than levity, and 
 contrariwife. Certain tunes, too, there are, 
 which, having been always connecfled with 
 certain acftions, do, merely from the power 
 of habit, difpofe men to thofe aclions. Such 
 are the tunes commonly ufed to regulate 
 the motions of dancing. 
 
 Yet it is in general true, that Poetry is the 
 moft immediate and mod accurate interpre- 
 ter of Mufic. Without this auxiliary, a 
 piece of the bed mufic, heard for the firll 
 time, miffht be faid to mean fomethino;, but 
 we fhould not be able to fay what. It 
 might incline the heart to feniibility : but 
 poetry, or language, would be neceifiry to 
 improve that fenfibility into a real emotion, 
 by fixing the fancy upon fome definite and 
 affecting ideis. A fine inflrumental fympho- 
 ny well performed, is like an oration deli- 
 vered with propriety, but in an unknown 
 tongue ; it may affed: us a little, but conveys 
 no determinate feeling ; we are alarmed, 
 perhaps, or melted, or foothed, but it is very 
 imperfedlly, becaufe we know not why : — 
 the finger, by taking up the fame air, and 
 applying words to it, immediately tranllates 
 the oration into our ov>^n language; then 
 all uncertainty vaniflies, the fancy is filled 
 with determinate ideas, and determinate e- 
 .motions take poffellion of the heart. 
 
 Vol. II. X A
 
 i62 ONPOETRY Parti, 
 
 A great part of our fafhionable mufic 
 feems intended rather to tickle and aflonifli 
 the hearers, than to infpire them with any- 
 permanent emotions. And if that be the 
 end of the art, then, to be fure, this failiion- 
 able mufic is jiifl what it fhould be, and the 
 fimpler drains of former ages are good for 
 nothing. Nor am I now at leifure to in- 
 quire, whether it be better for an audience 
 to be thus tickled and aftonifhed, than to 
 have their fancy impreffed with beautiful 
 images, and their hearts melted with tender 
 paflions, or elevated with fublime ones. But 
 if you grant me this one point, that muiic 
 is more or lefs perfedl, in proportion as it has 
 more or lefs power over the heart, it will 
 follow, that all mufic merely inllrumental, 
 and which does not derive fignificancy from 
 any of the afTociations, habits, or outward 
 circumrtances. above mentioned, is to a cer- 
 tain degree imperfecft; and that, w^iie the 
 rules hinted at in the following queries are 
 overlooked by compofers and performer^, vo- 
 cal mufic, though it may aftoniih mankind, 
 or afford them a flight gratification, will 
 never be attended with thole important effedls 
 that we know it produced of old in the days 
 pF fimplicity and true taite. 
 
 I. Is not good mufic fet to bad poetry 
 as unexpreffive, and therefore as abfurd, as 
 good poetry fet to bad muiic, or as harmo- 
 nious ]anguage without meaning ? Yet the 
 generality of muficians appear to be indiffer- 
 ent
 
 Ch. VI. 2. AND MUSI C. i6 
 
 D 
 
 ent in regard to this matter. If the found 
 of the words be good, or the meaning of 
 particular words agreeable; if there be a com- 
 petency of hills and rills, doves and loves, 
 fountains and mountains, with a tolerable 
 colle(flion of garlands and lambkins, nymphs 
 and cupids, bergens and tortorellas^ they are 
 not folicitous about fenfe or elegance. In 
 which they feem to me to confult their own 
 honour as little as the rational entertainment 
 of others. For what is there to elevate the 
 mind of that compofer, who condemns him- 
 felf to fet muiic to iniipid doggerel ? Han- 
 del's genius never foared to heaven, till it 
 caught ftrength and fire from the drains of 
 
 infpiration. 2. Should not the words of 
 
 every fong be intelligible to thofe to whom 
 it is addrefTed^ and be diftindlly articulated, 
 fo as to be heard as plainly as the notes ? 
 Or can the human mind be rationally grati- 
 fied with that which it does not perceive, 
 or which, if it did perceive, it would not 
 underftand ? And therefore, is not the mu- 
 iic of a fong faulty, when it is fo complex 
 as to make the diftincfl articulation of the 
 
 words impradlicable ? 3. If the finger's 
 
 voice and words ought to be heard in every 
 part of the fong, can there be any pro- 
 priety in noify accompaniments ? And as 
 every performer in a numerous band is not 
 perfe6lly difcreet, and as fome performers may 
 be more careful to diftinguiili themfelves than 
 do iuflice to the fong, will not an inflru- 
 X 2 mental
 
 164 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 ment.il accompaniment be almofl: neceflarily 
 
 too noify, if it is complex ? 4. Docs 
 
 not the frequent repetition of the fame words 
 in a fong, confound its meaning, and diftratfl 
 the attention of both the finger and the hear- 
 er ? And are not long-winded divifions (or 
 fuccefTions of notes warbled to one f)dlable) 
 attended with a like inconvenience, and 
 with this additional bad efFect, that they dif- 
 qualify the voice for expreflion, by exhauft- 
 ing it ? Is not limplicity as great a perfec- 
 tion in mufic, as in painting and poetry ? 
 Or fhould we admire that orator who chofe 
 to exprefs by five hundred words, a fenti- 
 ment that might be more emphatically con- 
 veyed in five ? 5. Ought not the finger 
 
 to bear in mind, that he has fentiments to 
 utter as well as founds ? And if fo, fliould 
 he not perfectly underftand what he fays, as 
 well as what he fmgs ; and not only mo- 
 dulate his notes with the art of a mufician, 
 but alfo pronounce his words with the pro- 
 priety of a public fpeaker ? If he is taught 
 to do this, does he not learn of courfe to a- 
 void all grimace and finical gefliculation ? 
 And will he not then acquit himfelf in fing- 
 ing like a rational creature, and a man of 
 fenfe ? Whereas, by purfuing a contrary 
 conducl, is he not to be confidered rather 
 as a puppet or wind-inib'ument, than as an 
 
 elegant artilc ? 6. Is not church-mufic 
 
 more important than any other ? and ought 
 it not for that reafoa to be moft intelligible 
 
 and
 
 Ch. VI. 2. AND MUSI C. 165 
 
 and exprefiive ? But will this be the cafe, 
 if the notes arc drawn out to fuch an im- 
 moderate length, that the words of the fing- 
 er cannot be underltood ? Befides, does not 
 exceflive llownefs, in finging or fpeaking, 
 tend rather to wear out the Ipirits, than to 
 elevate the fancy, or warm the heart ? It 
 w^ould feem, then, that the vocal part of 
 church-mufic fhould never be fo (low as to 
 fatigue thofe who fing, or to render the 
 words of the fong in any degree nnintelligi- 
 
 ble to thofe who hear. 7. Do flourifhed 
 
 cadences, whether by a voice or inflrument, 
 ferve any other purpofe, than to take off our 
 attention from the fubjecl, and fet us a- fla- 
 ring at the flexibility of the performer's voice, 
 the fwiftnefs of his fingers, or the found 
 of his fiddle ? And if this be their only 
 ufe, do they not counteract, inflead of pro- 
 Hioting, the chief end of muiic ? What 
 fliould we think, if a tragedian, at the con- 
 clufion of every fcene, or of every fpeech, 
 in Othello, w^ere to flrain his throat into a 
 preternatural fcream, make a hideous wry 
 face, or cut a caper four feet high ? We 
 might wonder at the flrength of his voice, 
 the pliancy of his features, or the fpringinefs 
 of his limbs ; but lliould hardly admire him 
 as intelligent in his art, or refpedlful to his 
 audience. 
 
 But is it not agreeable to hear a jiorid fong 
 by a fine performer, though now and then 
 the voice fhould be drowned amidft the ac- 
 companiments,
 
 i66 ONPOETRY Part t 
 
 companiments, and though the words fliould 
 not be underftood by the hearers, or eveil 
 by the finger ? I anfwer, that nothing can 
 be very agreeable, which brings difappoint- 
 ment. In the cafe fuppofed, the tones of the 
 voice might no doubt give pleafure : but 
 from inftrumental mufic we expecSl fome- 
 thing more, and from vocal muhc a great 
 deal more, than mere fweetnefs of found. 
 From poetry and mufic united we have a 
 right to expert pathos, fentiment, and me- 
 lody, and in a word every gratification that 
 the tuneful art can beflow. But in fweet- 
 nefs of tone the befl finger is not fuperior, 
 and fcarcely equal, to an Eolus harp, to Vif- 
 cher's hautboy, or to Giardini's violin. And 
 can we without diffatisfadlion fee a human 
 creature dwindle into mere wood and cat- 
 gut ? Can we be gratified with what only 
 tickles the ear, when we had reafon to hope^ 
 that a powerful addrefs would have been 
 made to the heart? — A handfome adlrefs 
 walking on the flage would no doubt be look- 
 ed at w4th complacency for a ininute or two, 
 though fhe were not to fpeak a word. But 
 furely we had a right to expecfl a different 
 fort of entertainment ; and were her filence 
 to lajl a few minutes longer, I believe the 
 politefb audience in Europe would let her 
 know that they were offended. — To con- 
 clude : A fong, which we liden to without 
 imderftanding the words, is like a pi6lure 
 feen at too great a diflance. The former 
 
 may
 
 Ch. VI. 2. AND MUSIC. 167 
 
 may be allowed to charm the ear with fweet 
 founds, ill the fame degree in which the 
 latter pleafes the eye with beautiful colours. 
 But, till the defign of the whole, and the 
 meaning of each part, be made obvious to 
 fenfe, it is impoflible to derive any rational 
 entertainment from either. 
 
 I hope I have given no offence to the con- 
 noilfeur by thefe obfervations. They are 
 dic5lated by a hearty zeal for the honour of 
 an art, of which I have heard and feen e- 
 nough to be fatisfied, that it is capable of 
 being improved into an inflrument of vir- 
 tue, as well as of pleafure. If I did not 
 think fo, I fliould hardly have taken the 
 trouble to write thefe remarks, ilight as they 
 are, upon the philofophy of it. But to re- 
 turn : 
 
 Every thing in art, nature, or common 
 life, muft give delight, which communi- 
 cates delightful paffions to the human mind. 
 And becauie all the paifions that mafic can 
 infpire are of the agreeable kind, it follows, 
 that all pathetic or expreilive mufic inull be 
 agreeable. Muiic may infpire devotion, for- 
 titude, companion, benevolence, tranquilli- 
 ty ; it may infufe a gentle forrow that foftens, 
 without wounding, the heart, or a fublime 
 horror that expands, and elevates, while it 
 aftoniihes, the imagination : but mulic has 
 no expreffion for impiety, cowardice, cruel- 
 ty, hatred, or difcontent. For every eifcn- 
 tial rule of the art tends to produce pleafmg 
 
 combinations.
 
 i68 O N P O E T R Y Parti. 
 
 combinations of found ; and it is difEcult 
 to conceive, how from thefe any painful or 
 criminal aflfedlions fliould arife. I believe, 
 however, it might be practicable, by means 
 of harlhi tones, irregular rhythm, and con- 
 tinual diffonance, to work the mind into a 
 difagreeable ilate, and to produce horrible 
 thoughts, and criminal propeniity, as well 
 as painful fenfations. But this would not 
 be mufic ; nor can it ever be for the intereft 
 of any fociety to put fuch a villanous art in 
 practice. 
 
 Milton was fo fenfible of the moral ten- 
 dency of mulical exprelTion, that he afcribes 
 to it the power of raifing fome praife-wor- 
 thy emotions even in the devils themfelves *. 
 Would Dryden, if he had been an adept 
 in this art, as Milton was, have made the 
 fong of Timotheus inflame Alexander to re- 
 venge and cruelty? — At any rate, I am 
 well pleafed that Dryden fell into this mif- 
 take (if it be one), becaufe it has produced 
 fome of the molt animated lines that ever 
 were vv^itten f. And I am alfo pleafed to 
 find, for the honour of mufic, and of this 
 criticifin, that hiflory aicrihcs the burning 
 of Perfepolis, not to any of the tuneful 
 tribe, but to the inftigation of a drunken 
 harlot. 
 
 IV. Is there not reafon to think, that 
 
 * Parr.dife Loft, b. i. veiT. 5^19. — 562. 
 f Alexander's Feaft, ftanza 6. 
 
 2 Tariety
 
 C!i. VI. 2. AND MUSI C. 169 
 
 variety and iimplicity of ftrucflure may con- 
 tribute fomething to the agreeablenefs of mu- 
 fic, as well as of poetry and profe. Varie- 
 ty, kept within due bounds, cannot fail to 
 pleafe, becaufe it refrellies the mind with 
 perpetual novelty ; and is therefore ftudioufly 
 fought after in all the arts, and in none of 
 them more than in muiic. To give this cha- 
 ra(5ler to his compoiitions, the poet varies his 
 phrafeology and fyntax ; and the feet, the 
 paufes, and the found of contiguous verfes, 
 as much as the fubjecft, the language, and 
 the laws of verfification will permit : and the 
 profe-writer combines longer with fliorter 
 fentences in the fame paragraph, longer with 
 fliorter claufes in the fame fentence, and even 
 longer with fliorter words in the fame claufe ; 
 terminates contiguous claufes and fentences 
 by a different cadence, and confl:ru6ls them 
 by a different fyntax ; and in general avoids 
 all monotony and iimilar founds, except 
 where they are unavoidable, or where they 
 may contribute (as indeed they often do) to 
 energy or perfpicuity. The mufician diver- 
 fifies his melody^ by changing his keys ; by 
 deferring or interrupting his cadences ; by a 
 mixture of flower and quicker, higher and 
 lower, fofter and louder notes ; and, in pie- 
 ces of length, by altering the rhythm, the 
 movement, and the air : and his hannony he 
 varies, by varying his concords and dif- 
 cords, by a change of modulation, by con'<r 
 trafting the afcent or flower motion of one 
 Vol, II. Y pare
 
 I70 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 part to the defcent or quicker motion of ano- 
 ther, by afligning different harmonies to the 
 fame melody, or different melodies to the 
 fame harmony, and by many other contri- 
 vances. 
 
 Simplicity makes mufic, as well as lan- 
 guage, inteUigible and expreffive. It is in 
 every work of art a recommendatory quality. 
 In mufic it is indifpenfable ; for we are never 
 pleafed with that mufic which we cannot un- 
 derftand, or which feems to have no mean- 
 ing. Of the ancient mulic little more is 
 known, than that it was very affecfting and 
 very fmiple. All popular and favourite airs ; 
 all that remains of the old national mufic in 
 every country ; all military marches, church- 
 tunes, and other compofitions that are more 
 immediately addreffed to the heart, and in- 
 tended to pleafe the general tafte; all pro- 
 verbial maxims of morality and prudence, 
 and all thofe poetical phrafes and lines, which 
 every body remembers, and is occafionally 
 repeating, are remarkable for fimplicity. 
 To which we may add, that language, while 
 it improves in fimplicity, grows ftill more 
 and more perfedl : and that, as it lofes this 
 phara<fter, it declines in the fame propor- 
 tion from the ftandard of elegance, and 
 draws nearer and nearer to utter deprava- 
 tion *. Without fimplicity, the varieties of 
 art, inflead of pleafing, would only bewilder 
 
 f See Le Vicende dclla Litter atiira del, Sig. Carlo Denina. 
 
 the
 
 Ch. VI. 2. A N D M U S i C. ' 171 
 
 the attention, and confound the judgement. 
 Rhythm, or Number, is in mufic a co- 
 pious fource of both variety and unifor- 
 mity. Not to enter into any nice fpecula- 
 tion on the nature of rhythm *, (for which 
 this is not a proper place), I iliall only ob- 
 ferve, that notes, as united in mufic, ad- 
 mit of the diftin(ftion of quick and flow, as 
 well as of acute and grave ; and that on the 
 former diilin(ftion depends what is here cal- 
 led Rhythm. It is the only thing in a tune 
 which the drum can imitate. And by that 
 inftrument, the rhythm of any tune may be 
 imitated mofl perfecflly, as well as by the 
 found of the feet in dancing : — only as the 
 feet can hardly move fo quick as the drum- 
 fticks, the dancer may be obliged to repeat 
 his flrokes at longer intervals, by fuppofing 
 the muiic divided into larger portions ; to 
 give one flroke, for example, where the 
 drummer might give two or three^ or two 
 where the other would give four or fix. For 
 every piece of regular mufiC is fuppofed to 
 be divided into fmall portions (feparated in 
 writing a by crofs line called a bar) which, 
 whether they contain more or fewer notes^ 
 are all equal in refpedl of time. In this way, 
 the rhythm is a fource of uniformity ; which 
 
 * The nature of R.hythm, and the feveral divifions of 
 it, are very accurately explained by the learned author 
 of An Eflay on the origin and progrefs of languagej 
 Vol. 2. p. 301. 
 
 Y 2 pleafcs.
 
 172 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 pleafes, by fuggerdng the agreeable ideas of 
 regularity and Ikill, and, ftill more, by ren- 
 dering the mulic intelligible. It alfo plea- 
 fes, by raifing and gratifying expectation : 
 for if the movement of the piece were govern- 
 ed by no rule ; if what one hears of it du- 
 ring the prefent moment were in all refpedls 
 unlike and incommenfurable to what one 
 was to hear the next, and had heard the 
 laft, the whole would be a mafs of con- 
 fufion ; and the ear would either be bewil- 
 dered, having nothing to reft upon, and 
 nothing to anticipate ; or, if it fliould expedl 
 any ftated ratio between the motion and the 
 time, would be difappointed when it found 
 that there was none. — That rhythm is a 
 fource of very great 'variety^ every perfon 
 muft be fenlibJe, who knows only the names 
 of the muiical notes, with fuch of their 
 divifions and fubdivifions as relate to time ; 
 or who has attended to the manifold varie- 
 ties of quick and How motion, which the 
 drum is capable of producing. 
 
 As order and proportion are always de- 
 lightful, it is no wonder that mankind ihould 
 be agreeably affected with the rhythm of 
 miufic. That they are, the univerfal ufe of 
 dancing, and of the " fpirit-ftirring drum," 
 is a fuiBcient evidence. Nay, I have known 
 -a child imitate the rhythm of tunes before 
 he could fpeak, and long before he could ma^ 
 nage his voice fo as to imitate their melody ; 
 — which is a proof, that human nature is 
 
 fufce{)tible
 
 Ch. VI. 2. A N n MUSI C. 173 
 
 fufceptlble of this delight previoufly to the 
 acquirement of artificial habits. 
 
 V. I hinted at the power of accidental 
 alTociation in giving fignificancy to mufical 
 compoiitions. It may be remarked further, 
 that aflbciation contributes greatly to height- 
 en their agreeable effecft. We have heard 
 them performed, fome time or other^ in an 
 agreeable place perhaps, or by an agree- 
 able perfon, or accompanied with words that 
 defcribe agreeable ideas ; or we have heard 
 them in our early years ; a period of life, 
 which we feldom look back upon without 
 pleafure, and of which Bacon recommends 
 the frequent recollecflion as an expedient to 
 preferve health. Nor is it neceffary, that 
 fuch melodies or harmonies lliould have much 
 intrinfic merit, or that they fhould call up a- 
 ny diiUndl remembrance of the agreeable i- 
 deas afTociated with them. There are fea- 
 fons, at which we are gratified with very 
 moderate excellence. In childhood, every 
 tune is delightful to a mufical ear ; in our 
 advanced years, an indifferent tune will pleafe, 
 when fet off by the amiable qualities of the 
 performer, or by any other agreeable circum- 
 llance. — During the laft war, the Bdkijle 
 march was long a general favourite. It filled 
 the minds of our people with magnificent i- 
 deas of armies, and conqueft, and military 
 fplendor ; for they believed it to be the tune 
 that was played by the French garrifon when 
 it marched out with the honours of war, and 
 
 furrendercd
 
 174 O N P O E T R Y Parti. 
 
 furrendered that fortrefs to the Britifli troops. 
 — The flute of a fhepherd, heard at a di- 
 fiance, in a fine fummer day, amidfl a beau- 
 tiful fcene of groves, hills, and waters, will 
 give rapture to the ear of the wanderer,' 
 though the tune, the inftrument, and the 
 mufician, be fuch as he could not endure in 
 any other place. — If a fong, or piece of mu- 
 lic, fhould call up only a faint remembrance,' 
 that we were happy the laft time we heard 
 it, nothing more would be needful to make 
 us liften to it again with peculiar fatisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 It is an amiable prejudice that people ge- 
 nerally entertain in favour of their national 
 mufic. This lowed degree of patriotifm is 
 not without its merit : and that man muft 
 have a hard heart, or dull imagination, in 
 whom, though endowed with mufical fenfi- 
 bility, no fweet emotions would arife, on 
 hearing, in his riper years, or in a foreign 
 land, tholb drains that were the delight of 
 his childhood. What though they be in- 
 ferior to the Italian ? What though they be 
 even irregular and rude ? It is not their me- 
 rit, which in the cafe fuppofed w^ould intereft 
 a native, but the charming ideas they would 
 recal to his mind : — ideas of innocence, fim- 
 plicity, and leifure, of romantic enterpriie, 
 and enthuiiaftic attachment; and of fcenes, 
 which, on recolieclion, we are inclined to 
 think, that a brighter fun illuminated, a 
 ixefher verdure crowned, and purer Ikies and 
 
 happier
 
 Ch. VI. 2. AND MUSIC. 175 
 
 happier climes confpired to beautify, than 
 are now to be feen in the dreary paths of 
 care and difappointment, into which men, 
 yielding to the paiTions peculiar to more ad- 
 vanced years, are tempted to wander. — There 
 are couplets in Ogilvie's Tranflation of Vir- 
 gil, which I could never read without emo- 
 tions far more ardent than the merit of the 
 numbers would juftify. But it was that book 
 which firfl taught me " the tale of Troy 
 " divine," and firfl made me acquainted with, 
 poetical fentiments ; and though I read it 
 when almoft an infant, it conveyed to my 
 heart fome pleafing impreffions, that remain 
 there unimpaired to this day. 
 
 There is a dance in Switzerland, which 
 the young {hepherds perform to a tune played 
 on a fort of bag-pipe. The tune is called 
 Ranee des imches ; it is wild and irregular, 
 but has nothing in its compofition that could 
 recommend it to our notice. But the Swifs 
 are fo intoxicated with this tune, that if at 
 any time they hear it, when abroad in fo- 
 reign fervice, they burft into tears ; and oft- 
 en fall fick, and even die, of a palhonate 
 defire to revifit their native country ; for 
 which reafon, in fome armies w^here they 
 ferve, the playing of this tune is prohibi- 
 ted *. This tune, having been the attend- 
 ant of their childhood and early youth, recals 
 
 * Roufleau. Didtionaire de MuCque, art. Ranee des 
 vacbes,
 
 %y6 O N P O E T R Y Part I. 
 
 to their memory thofe regions of wild beau- 
 ty and rude magnificence, thofe days of li- 
 berty and peace, thofe nights of feftivity, 
 thofe happy affemblies, thofe tender paffions, 
 which formerly endeared to them their coun- 
 try, their homes, and their employments ; 
 and which, when compared with the fcenes 
 of uproar they are now engaged in, and the 
 fervitude they now undergo, awaken fuch 
 regret as entirely overpowers them. 
 
 SECT. III. 
 
 ConjeBiires on fome peculiarities of National 
 Miific, 
 
 'T^Here is a certain ftyle of melody peculiar 
 -*- to each mufical country, which the peo- 
 ple of that country are apt to prefer to every 
 other ftyle. That they fhould prefer their 
 own, is not furprifing ; and that the melody 
 of one people fliould differ from that of an- 
 other, is not more furprifing, perhaps, than 
 that the language of one people fhould differ 
 from that of another. But there is fome- 
 thing not unworthy of notice in the parti- 
 cular expreiTion and flyle that charadterife 
 the mufic of one nation or province, and 
 diilinguifli it from every other fort of mu- 
 fic. Of this diverfity Scotland fupplies 
 2 a
 
 CIi. VI. 3. AND MUSIC. 177 
 
 a ftriking example. The native melody of the 
 highlands and weflern ifles is as different from 
 that of the fouthern part of the kingdom, as 
 the Irifli or Erfe language is different from 
 the Engliih or Scotch. In the conchifion of 
 a difcourfe on mufic as it relates to the mind, 
 it will not perhaps be impertinent to offer 
 a conjedlure on the caufe of thefe peculiari- 
 ties ; which, though it fliould not (and in- 
 deed I am fatisfied that it will not) fully 
 account for any one of them, may however 
 incline the reader to think that they are not 
 tmaccountable, and may alfo throw fome 
 faint hght on this part of philofophy. 
 
 Every thought that partakes of the nature 
 of pallion, has a correfpondent expreffion in 
 the look and gefture : and fo ilrict is the union 
 between the paffion and its outward fign, 
 that, where the former is not in fome degree 
 felt, the latter can never be perfe^lly natural, 
 but, ifaffumed, becomes aukward mimickry, 
 inftead of that genuine imitation of nature, 
 whicli draws forth the fympathy of the be- 
 holder. If, therefore, there be, in the cir- 
 cumftances of particular nations or perfoas, 
 any thing that gives a peculiarity to their 
 paffions and thoughts, it feems reafonable 
 to expect, that they will alfo have fomething 
 peculiar in the expreflion of their countenance, 
 and even in the form of their features. Cai- 
 ns Marius, Jugurtha, Tamerlane, and fome 
 other great warriors, are celebrated for « 
 peculiar ferocity of afpect, which they had 
 
 Vol. U. Z*. na
 
 178 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 no doubt contracfled from a perpetual and 
 unreftrained exertion of fortitude, contempt, 
 and other violent emotions. Thefe produced 
 in the face their correfpondent expreifions, 
 which being often repeated, became at laft 
 as habitual to the features, as the fentiments 
 they arofe from were to the heart. Savages, 
 whofe thoughts are little inured to controul, 
 have more of this fignificancy of look, than 
 thofe men, who, being born and bred in ci- 
 vilized nations, are accuftomed from their 
 childhood to fupprefs every emotion that 
 tends to interrupt the peace of fociety. And 
 while the bloom of youth lafts, and the 
 fmoothnefs of feature peculiar to that pe- 
 riod, the human face is lefs marked with any 
 llrong charadler, than in old age : — a pee- 
 vifli or furly (Iripling may elude the eye of 
 the phyfiogngmifl ; but a wicked old man, 
 whofe vifage does not betray the evil tempera- 
 ture of his heart, muft have more cunning 
 than it would be prudent for him to acknow- 
 ledge. Even by the trade or profefTion the 
 human countenance may be charadlerifed. 
 They who employ themfelves in the nicer 
 mechanic arts, that requii'e the earneft atten- 
 tion of the artift, do generally contracfl: a 
 fixednefs of feature fuited to that one uni- 
 form fentiment which engroffes them while 
 at work. Whereas, other artifts, whofe work 
 requires lefs attention, and who may ply 
 their trade and amufe themfelves with con- 
 verfation at the fame time, have for the moft 
 
 part
 
 Ch. VI. 3. AND MUSI C. 179 
 
 part fmoother and more unmeaning faces : 
 their thoughts are more mifcellaneous, and 
 therefore their features are lefs fixed in one 
 uniform configuration. A keen penetrating 
 look indicates thoughtfalnefs and fpirit : a 
 dull torpid countenance is not often accom- 
 panied with great fagacity. 
 
 This, though there may be many an excep- 
 tion, is in general true of the viiible figns of 
 our paffions ; and it is no lefs true of the 
 audible. A man habitually peeviili, or paf- 
 fionate, or querulous, or imperious, may 
 be known by the found of his voice, as well 
 as by his phyfiognomy. May we not go a 
 ftep farther, and fay, that if a man under 
 the influence of any pafTion were to compofe 
 a difcourfe, or a poem, or a tune, his work 
 would in fome meafure exhibit an image of 
 his mind ? I could not eafily be perfuaded, 
 that Swift and Juvenal were men of fweet 
 tempers ; or that Thomfon, Arbuthnot, and 
 Prior were ill-natured. The airs of Felton 
 are fo uniformly mournful, that I cannot 
 fuppofe him to have been a merry, or even a 
 chearful man. If a mufician, in deep afflic- 
 tion, were to attempt to compofe a lively air, 
 I believe he would not fucceed : though I 
 confefs I do not ;well under tland the nature 
 of the connecftion that may take place be- 
 tween a mournful mind and a melancholy 
 tune. It is eafy to conceive, howr a poet or 
 an orator fhould transfufe his paiTions into 
 his work ; for every paiTion fuggefts ideas 
 7a 1 congenial
 
 i8d O N P O E T R Y PartL 
 
 congenial to its own nature ; and the com- 
 pofiLion of the poet, or of the orator, mufb 
 necelTarily confift of thofe ideas that occur at 
 the time he is compohng. But mufical founds 
 are not the figns of ideas ; rarely are they 
 even the imitations of natural founds : fo 
 that 1 am at a lofs to conceive how it fhould 
 happen, that a mulician, overwhelmed with 
 forrow, for example, fliould put together a 
 feries of notes, whofe exprelTion is contrary 
 to that of another feries which he had put 
 together when elevated with joy. But of 
 the fact I am not doubtful ; though I have 
 not fagacity, or knowledge of mufic, enough 
 to be able to explain it. And my opinion 
 in this matter is warranted by that of a more 
 competent judge ; who fays, fpeaking of 
 church-voluntaries, that if the Organift 
 *' do not feel in himfclf the divine energy of 
 *' devotion, he will labour in vain to raife it 
 " in others. Nor can he hope to throv;- 
 *' out thole happy inifantaneous thoughts, 
 *' which fometimes far exceed the bed con- 
 " certed compohtions, and which the en- 
 *' raptured performer would gladly fecure 
 *' to his future ufe and pleafure, did they 
 *' not as fleetly efcape as they arife *." A 
 man who has made mufic the ftudy of his 
 life, and is well acquamted with all the belt: 
 examples of ftyle and expreflion that are to 
 be found in the works of former mailers, 
 
 * Avifon on is.'uiica! Expreffion, pag. 88. S(). 
 
 may.
 
 Ch. VI. 3. AND MUSI C. i8i 
 
 may, by memory and much pradlice, attain 
 a fort of mechanical dexterity in contriving 
 miific fuitable to any given pafTion ; but 
 luch mufic would, I prefume, be vulgar and 
 fpiritlefs, compared to what an artifl of ge- 
 nius throws out, when under the power of 
 any ardent emotion. It is recorded of Lulli, 
 that, once when his imagination was all on 
 fire with fome verfes defcriptive of terrible 
 ideas, which he had be^n reading in a French 
 tragedy, he ran to his harplichord, and ftruck 
 off fuch a combination of founds, that the 
 company felt their hair ftand on end with 
 horror. 
 
 Let us therefore fuppofe it proved, or, if 
 youpleafe, take it for granted, that different 
 fentiments in the mind of the mulician will 
 give different and peculiar expreifions to his 
 mufic ; — and wpon this principle, it will not 
 perhaps be impoffible to account for fome 
 of the phenomena of a national ear. 
 
 The highlands of Scotland are a pi(5lu- 
 refque, but in general a melancholy country. 
 Long tradls of mountainous defert, covered 
 with dark heath, and often obfcured by mifty 
 weather ; narrow vallies, thinly inhabited, 
 and bounded by precipices refounding with 
 the fall of torrents ; a foil fo rugged, and 
 a climate fo dreary, as in many parts to ad- 
 mit neither the amufements of pafturage, 
 nor the labours of agriculture ; the mourn- 
 fill dafhing of waves along the friths and 
 lakes that interledl the country j the por- 
 tentous
 
 i8a ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 tentous noifes which every change of the 
 wind, and every increafe and diminution of 
 the waters, is apt to raife, in a lonely re- 
 gion, full of echoes, and rocks, and caverns ; 
 the grotefque and ghaftly appearance of fucli 
 a landfcape by the Hght of the moon : — ob- 
 je6ls like thefe difFufe a gloom over the fan- 
 cy, which may be compatible enough with 
 occafional and focial merriment, but cannot 
 fail to tindure the thoughts of a native in 
 the hour of filence and folitude. If thefe 
 people, notwithstanding their reformation 
 in religion, and more frequent intercourfe 
 with (Irangers, do ftill retain many of their 
 old fuperilitions, we need not doubt but in 
 former times they muft have been much more 
 enflaved to the horrors of imagination, when 
 befet with the bugbears of Popery, and the 
 darknefs of Paganifm. Moft of their fuper- 
 ftitions are of a melancholy caft. That Se- 
 cond Sight, wherewith fome of them are ftill 
 fuppofed to be haunted, is confidered by 
 themfelves as a misfortune, on account of 
 the many dreadful images it is faid to ob- 
 trude upon the fancy. I have been told, 
 that the inhabitants of fome of the Alpine 
 regions do likewife lay claim to a fort of 
 fecond fvAit. Nor is it wonderful, that 
 
 o .... . 
 
 perfons of lively imagination, immured in 
 deep folitude, and furrounded with the ftu- 
 pendous fcenery of clouds, precipices, and 
 torrents, fhould dream, even when they 
 think themfelves avv^ake, of thole few ftriking 
 
 ideas
 
 Ch. VI. 3. AND MUSI C. 183 
 
 ideas with which their lonely lives are diver- 
 fified ; of corpfes, funeral procefTions, and 
 other objedls of terror ; or of marriages, and 
 the arrival of flrangers, and fuch like mat- 
 ters of inore agreeable curiofity *. Let it be 
 
 obferved 
 
 * I do not find fufficient evidence for the reality of 
 fecond figfjt^ or at leaft of what is commonly underftood 
 by that term. A treatife on the iubject was publiOi- 
 ed in the year 1762, in which many tales were told 
 of perfons, whom the author believed to have been fa- 
 voured, or haunted, with thefe illuminations ; but moft 
 of the tales were trifling and ridiculovis : and the whole 
 work betrayed on the part of the compiler fuch ex- 
 treme credulity, as could not fail to prejudice many 
 readers againft his fyflem. — That any of thefe vifiona- 
 ries are liable to be fwayed in their declarations by fmi- 
 fter views, I will not fay ; though a gentleman of^ cha- 
 racter affured me, that one of them offered to fell him 
 this unaccountable talent for half a crown. But this I 
 think may be faid with confidence, that none but igno- 
 rant people pretend to be gifted in this way. And in 
 them it may be nothing more, perhaps, than fhort fits 
 of fudden fleep or drowfinefs attended with lively dreams, 
 and ariflng from fome bodily diforder, the effect of idle- 
 nefs, low fpirits, or a gloomy imagination. For it is ad- 
 mitted, even by the moft credulous highlanders, tiiat, as 
 knowledge and induftry are propagated in their country, 
 the fecond light difappears in proportion : and nobody 
 ever laid claim to this faculty, who v/as much employed 
 in the intei'courfe of focial life. Nor is it at all extraor- 
 dinary, that one fliould have the appearance of being a- 
 vvake, and fliould even think one's lelf fo, during thefe 
 fits of dozing ; or that they fhould come on fuddenly, 
 and while one is engaged in fome , bufinefs. The fame 
 thing happens to perfons much fatigued, or long kept a- 
 wake, who fi-equently fall afleep for a moment, or for 
 a longer fpace, while they are ftanding, or walking, or 
 riding on horfcback. Add but a lively dream to this 
 
 . flumber.
 
 i84 GNPOETRY Part L 
 
 obferved alfo, that the ancient highlanders 
 of Scotland had hardly any other way of 
 
 fupporting 
 
 (lumber, and (which is the frequent eftcCt of difeafe) 
 take a way the confcioufnefs of having been afleep •, and 
 a fuperftitious man, who is always hearing and believing 
 tales of fecond fight, may eafily miftake his dream for 
 a waking vifion : which however is foon forgotten when 
 no fubfequent occurrence recals it to his memory ; but 
 which, if it fhall be thought to refemble any future e- 
 ■•ent, exalts the poor dreamer into a highland prophet. 
 ' !iis conceit makes him more reclufe and more me- 
 lancholy than ever, and fo feeds his difeafe, and mul- 
 tiplies his viilons ; which, if they are not diffipated by 
 buiinefs or fociety, may continue to haunt him as long 
 as he lives ; and which, in their progrefs through the 
 neighbourhood, receive forae new tincture of the mar- 
 vellous from every mouth that promotes their circula- 
 tion. As to the pi'ophetical nature of this fecond- 
 
 iight, it cannot be admitted at all. That the Deity 
 ifliould work a miracle, in order to give intimation of 
 the frivolous things that thefe tales are made up of, the 
 arrival of a ftranger, the nailing of a coffin, or the co- 
 lour of a fuit of cloaths ; and that thefe intimations 
 fhould be given for no end, and to thofe perfons only 
 who are idle and folitary, w'lio fpeak Erfe, or who live 
 among mountains and dcferts, — is like nothing in na- 
 ture or providence that w^e are acquainted Avith ; and 
 mufl therefore, unlefs it were confirmed by iktisfactory 
 proof, (which is not the cafe), be rejefted as abfurd and 
 incredible. The vifions, fuch as they are, may reaibn- 
 ably enough be afcribed to a diftempered fancv. And 
 that in them, as well as in our ordinary dreams, certain 
 appearances fhould, on fome rare occafions, refemble 
 certain events, is to be expelled from the laws of 
 chance ; and feems to have in it nothing more marvel- 
 lous or fupernatural, than that the pai-rot, who deals out 
 his fcurrilities at random, fliould fometimes happen to 
 falute the paiicnger by his right appellation. 
 
 2 But
 
 Ch. VI. 3. AND MUSIC. 185 
 
 fupporting themfelves, than by hunting, 
 iifliing, or war, profeflions that are conti- 
 nually expofed to fatal accidents. And hence, 
 no doubt, additional horrors would often 
 haunt their folitude, and a deeper gloom 
 overfliadow the imagination even of the har* 
 diefl native. 
 
 But, whatever the reader may think of thefe remarks, ' 
 or of their pertinency to the prefent fubjeft, 1 am fure I 
 Ihall not be blamed for quoting, from a poem little 
 known, the following very picSlurefque lines ; which may 
 Ihow, that what in hiftory or philofophy would make 
 but an awkward figure, may fometimes have a charming 
 effect in poetry. 
 
 E'er fince of old the haughty Thanes of Rofs 
 (So to the fimple fwain tradition tells) 
 Were wont, with clans and ready vaflals throng'd. 
 To wake the bounding flag, or guilty wolf; 
 There oft is heard at midnight, or at noon. 
 Beginning faint, but rifing ftill more loud 
 And nearer, voice of hunters and of hounds. 
 And horns, hoarfe-winded, blowing far and keen. 
 Forthwith the hubbub multiplies ; the gale 
 Labours with wilder fhrieks, and rifer din 
 Of hot purfuit ; the broken cry of deer 
 Mangled by throttling dogs •, the fhouts of men. 
 And hoofs thick-beating on the hollow hill. 
 Sudden, the grazing heifer in the vale 
 Starts at the tumult, and the herdfman's eai'S 
 Tingle with inward dread. Aghaft he eyes 
 The mountain's height, and all the ridges round ;: 
 Yet not one trace of living wight difcerns : 
 Nor knows, o'eraw'd and trembling as he ftands, 
 To what, or whom, he owes his idle fear. 
 To ghoft, to witch, to fairy, or to fiend ; 
 But wonders ; and no end of wondering finds, 
 
 Albania, a poem. London, 1737, folio. 
 
 Yoh. 11. A a What
 
 i86 O N P O E T R Y PartL 
 
 What then would it be reafonable to ex- 
 pert from the fanciful tribe, from the mu- 
 jficians and poets, of fuch a region ? Strains, 
 exprefTive of joy, tranquillity, or the fofter 
 pallions ? No : their ftyle muft have been 
 better fuited to their circumftances. And fo 
 we find in facl that their mufic is. The 
 wildeft irregularity appears in its compofi- 
 tion : the expreifion is warlike, and melan- 
 choly, and approaches even to the terrible. 
 And that their poetry is almoft uni- 
 formly mournful, and their views of nature 
 dark and dreary, will be allowed, by all 
 who admit the authenticity of OlTian ; and 
 not doubted by any who believe thofe frag- 
 ments of highland poetry to be genuine, 
 which many old people, now alive, of that 
 country, remember to have heard in their 
 youth ^ and were then taught to refer to a 
 pretty high antiquity. 
 
 Some of the fouthern provinces of Scot- 
 land prefent a very different profpe(5l. Smooth 
 and lofty hills covered with verdure ; clear 
 flreams winding through long and beauti- 
 ful vallies; trees produced without culture, 
 here ftraggling or fingle, and there croud- 
 ing into little groves and bowers; — with 
 Other circumrtances peculiar to the diflridls 
 I allude to, render them fit for pafturage, 
 and favourable to romantic leifure and ten- 
 der pafTions, Several of the old Scotch fongs 
 take their names from the rivulets, villages, 
 and hills, adjoining to the Tweed near Mel- 
 
 rofe
 
 Ch. VI. 3. AND MUSIC. 187 
 
 rofe * ; a region diftinguifhed by many 
 charming varieties of rural fcenery, and 
 which, whether we confider the face of the 
 country, or the genius of the people, may 
 properly enough be termed the Arcadia of 
 Scotland. And all thefe fongs are fweetly 
 and powerfully expreflive of love and ten- 
 dernefs, and other emotions fuited to the tran- 
 quillity of paftoral life. 
 
 It is a common opinion, that thefe fongs 
 were compofed by David Rizzio, a mufician 
 from Italy, the unfortunate favourite of a 
 very vmfortunate queen. But this muft be 
 a miftake. The ftyle of the Scotch mufic 
 was fixed before his time ; for many of the 
 beft of thefe tunes are afcribed by tradi- 
 tion to a more remote period. And it is 
 not to be fuppofed, that he, a foreigner, 
 and in the latter part of his life a man of 
 bufinefs, could have acquired or invented 
 a ftyle of mufical compofition fo different 
 in every refpedt from that to which he had 
 been accuftomed in his own country. Me- 
 lody is fo much the characterlftic of the 
 Scotch tunes, that I doubt whether even 
 baffes were fet to them before the prefent 
 century ; whereas, in the days of Rizzio, 
 Harmony was the fafliionable ftudy of the I- 
 talian compofers. Paleftina himfelf, who 
 
 * Cowdenkhows, Galafhiels, Galawater, Etterlck 
 banks, Braes of Yarrow, Bulk above Traquair, &c. 
 
 A a 2 fiouriihed
 
 i88 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 flourillied about two hundred and fifty years 
 ago, and who has obtained the high title of 
 Father of Harmony, is by a great mafter * 
 ranked with thofe who neglected air, and 
 were too clofely attached to counterpoint ; 
 and at the time when Rizzio was a ftudent 
 in the art, Paleftina's muft have been the fa- 
 vourite mulic in Italy. Befides, though 
 
 the ftyle of the old Scotch melody has been 
 well imitated by Mr. Ofwald, and fome o- 
 ther natives, I do not find that any foreigner 
 has ever caught the true fpirit of it. Gemi^ 
 niani, a great and original genius in this 
 art, and a profefTed admirer of the Scotch 
 fongs, (fome of which he publifhed with ac- 
 companiments), ufed to fay, that he had 
 blotted many a quire of paper to no pur- 
 pofe, in attempting to compofe a fecond 
 flrain to that fine little air which in Scot- 
 land is known by the name of The broom of 
 
 Coivdenknoivs. To all which we may add, 
 
 that TafToni, the author of La Secchia rapita^ 
 / fpeaks of this mufic as well efteemed by 
 the Italians of his time, and afcribes the 
 invention of it to James King of Scotland ; 
 — which a foreigner might naturally do, as 
 all the Scotch kings of that name, particu- 
 larly the firft, third, fourth, and fifth, were 
 Ikilled both in mufic and poetry. 
 
 But though I admit Taflbni's teflimony 
 as a proof, that the Scotch mufic is more 
 
 * Avifon on Muf. Exprefllon, p. 49. 51, 
 
 ancient
 
 Ch. VI. 3. AND MUSIC. i8g 
 
 ancient than Rizzio, I do not think him 
 right in what he fays of its inventor. Nor 
 can I acquiefce in the opinion of thofe who 
 give the honour of this invention to the 
 monks of Melrofe. I rather beUeve, that 
 it took its rife among men who were real 
 Ihepherds, and who adlually felt the fenti- 
 ments and affections, whereof it is fo very 
 expreffive. Rizzio may have been one of the 
 firft, perhaps, who made a colledlion of thefe 
 fongs ; or he may have played them with 
 more delicate touches than the Scotch mu- 
 licians of that time ; or perhaps corre(5led 
 the extravagance of certain paffages; — for 
 one is ftruck with the regularity of fome, as 
 well as amufed with the wildnefs of others : 
 — and in all or any of thofe cafes, it might 
 be faid with truth, that the Scotch mulic is 
 under obligations to him : — but that this 
 ftyle of paftoral melody, fo unlike the Italian, 
 and in every refpedl fo peculiar, Ihould have 
 been eftablifhed or invented by him, is in- 
 credible ; nay, (if it were worth while to 
 afferc any thing fo poiitively on fuch a iiib- 
 je<5l), we might even fay impoflible. 
 
 The acknowledged and unequalled excel- 
 lence of the Italian mulic, is one of thofe 
 phenomena of a National Tafte, that may in 
 part be accounted for. Let us recollect fome 
 particulars of the hiftory of that period, 
 when this muiic began to recommend itfelf 
 to general notice. 
 
 Leo the Tenth, and fome of his imme- 
 diate
 
 tgo 6 N P O E T R Y Parti. 
 
 diate predeceflbrs, had many great vices, and 
 fbme virtues; and we at this day feel thei 
 good efFedls of both ; for Providence has 
 been pleafed, in this inftance, as in many 
 others, to bring good out of evil, and to ac- 
 complifli the moft glorious purpofes by means 
 that feemed to have an oppofite tendency. 
 The profufion, and other more fcandalous 
 qualities of Leo, v^rere inftrumental in haften- 
 ing forward the Reformation : to his liberali- 
 ty and love of art we owe the fineft pi(flures, 
 the fineft mufical compofitions, and fome of 
 the fineft poems in the world. 
 
 The fixteenth century does indeed great 
 honour to Italian geniiis. The ambition of 
 Alexander the Sixth, and Julius the Second, 
 had raifed the Papal power to higher emi- 
 nence, and fettled it on a firmer foundation, 
 than had been known before their time* 
 Leo, therefore, had leifure to indulge his 
 love of luxury and of art ; and the Italians, 
 under his adminiftration, to cultivate the 
 arts and fciences, which many other favour- 
 able events confpired to promote. Printing 
 had been lately found out : the taking of 
 Conftantinople by the Turks had made a 
 difperiion of the learned, many of whom 
 took refuge in Italy : Leo found, in the 
 treafures accvimulated by Julius the Second, 
 and in the ample revenues of the pontificate, 
 the means both of generofity and of de- 
 bauchery : and when the Pope, and the 
 houfes of Medici and Montefeltro, had fet.the 
 
 example.
 
 Ch. VI. 3. AND MUSI C. 191 
 
 example, it became the fafhion all over Italy, 
 to patronife genius, and encourage learning. 
 The firfl efforts of a literary fpirit appeared' 
 in tranllating the Greek authors into Latin ; 
 a tongue which every fcholar w^as ambitious 
 to acquire, and in which many elegant com- 
 pofitions, both verfe and profe, were pro- 
 duced about this time in Italy. Fracaftorius, 
 Sanazarius, Vida, diflinguilhed themfelves 
 in Latin poetry ; Bembo, Cafa, Manutius, 
 Sigonius, in Latin profe. But genius fel- 
 dom difplays itfelf to advantage in a foreign 
 tongue. The cultivation of the Tofcan lan- 
 guage, fince the time of Petrarch a, who 
 flourilhed one hundred and fifty years be- 
 fore the period we fpeak of, had been too 
 much negledled ; but was now refumed with 
 the moft defirable fuccefs ; particularly by 
 Taifo and Ariofto, who carried the Italian 
 poetry to its higheft perfedlion. 
 
 The other fine arts were no lefs fortunate 
 in the hands of Raphael and Paleflina. What 
 Homer was in poetry, thefe authors were in 
 painting and mufic. Their works are ftill 
 regarded as ftandards of good tafte, and 
 models for imitation : and though improve- 
 ment may no doubt have been made fince 
 their time, in fome inferior branches of their 
 refpedLive arts, particularly in what regards 
 delicacy of manner ; it may with reafon be 
 doubted, whether in grandeur of defign, and 
 ftrength of invention, they have as yet been 
 excelled or equalled. Greece owed much of 
 
 her
 
 192 O N P O E T R*Y Parti. 
 
 her literary glory to the merit of her ancient 
 authors. They at once fixed the fafhioh in 
 the feveral kinds of writing ; and they hap- 
 pened to fix it on the immoveable bafis of 
 fimplicity and nature. Had not the Italian 
 mufic in its infant flate fallen into the hands 
 of a great genius like Paleftina, it would not 
 have arrived at maturity fo foon. A long 
 fucceflion of inferior compofers might have 
 made difcoveries in the art, but could not 
 have raifed it above mediocrity : and fuch 
 people are not of influence enough to render 
 a new art refpedlable in the eyes, either of 
 the learned, or of the vulgar. But Paleftina 
 made his art an objecfl of admiration, not 
 only to his own country, but to a great part 
 of Europe. In England he was ftudied and 
 imitated by Tallis, in the reign of Henry 
 the Eighth. All good judges were fatisfied, 
 that this fyftem of harmony was founded 
 on right principles ; and that, though it 
 might perhaps be improved, nothing in the 
 art could be a real improvement, which was 
 contradidlory to it. 
 
 In the age of Leo, a genius like Paleftina 
 muft have been diftinguiflied, even though 
 the art he profefled had gratified no im- 
 portant principle of the human mind ; but 
 as his art gratified the religious principle, he 
 could not fail, in thofe days, and among 
 Italians, to meet with the higheft encourage- 
 ment. In fa(5t, mufic fince that time has 
 been cultivated in Italy with the utmoft at^ 
 % tention
 
 Gh. VI. 3. AND MUSI C. 193 
 
 tention and fuccefs. Scarlatti, Corelli, Ge- 
 miniani, Martini, Marcello, were all men of 
 extraordinary abilities ; and any one of them, 
 in the circumflances of Paleftina^ might per- 
 haps have been as eminent as he. Need we 
 wonder, then, at the unequalled excellence of 
 the Italian mufic ? 
 
 But other caufes have contributed to this 
 effed. Nobody who underftands the lan- 
 guage of modern Italy, will deny, that the 
 natives have a peculiar delicacy of perception 
 in regard to vocal found. This delicacy ap- 
 pears in the fweetnefs of their verfe, in the 
 cadence of their profe, and even in the for- 
 mation and inflexion of their words. Whe- 
 ther it be owing to the climate, or to the 
 influence of the other arts ; whether it be de- 
 rived from their Gothic anceftors, or from 
 their more remote forefathers of ancient 
 Rome ; whether it be the effedl of weak- 
 nefs or of foundnefs in the vocal and audi- 
 tory organs of the people, this national nice- 
 nefs of ear muft be confidered as one caufe 
 of the melody both of their fpeech and of 
 their mufic. They are mlflaken who think 
 the Italian an eiTeminate language. Soft it is 
 indeed, and of eafy modulation, but fufcep- 
 tible withal of the utmoft dignity of found, 
 as well as of elegant arrangement and ner- 
 vous phrafeology. In hiftory and oratory, it 
 may boaft of many excellent models : and 
 its poetry is far fuperior to that of every 
 other modern nation, except the EngUih. 
 
 Vol. II. B b And 

 
 194 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 And if it be true, that all mufic is originally 
 fong, the niofl poetical nation would feem 
 to have the faireft chance to become the 
 molt mufical. The Italian tongue, in ftrength 
 and variety of harmony, is not fuperior, 
 and perhaps not equal, to the Englifli ; but, 
 abounding more in vowels and liquid founds, 
 and being therefore more eafily articulated, 
 is fitter for the purpofes of mufic : and it 
 deferves our notice, that poetical numbers 
 were brought to perfecftion in Italy two hun- 
 dred years fooner than in any other country 
 of modern Europe. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 Of Sympathy. 
 
 S a great part of the pleafure we derive 
 '\_ from poetry depends on our Sympa- 
 thetic Feelings, the philofophy of Sympathy 
 ought always to form a part of the fcience 
 of Criticifm. On this fubjed:, therefore, I 
 beg leave to fubjoin a few brief remarks, that 
 may pofiibly throv/ light on fome of the fore- 
 going, as well as fubfequent reafonings. 
 
 When we confider the condition of an- 
 other perfon, efpecially if it feem to be 
 pleafurable or painful, we are apt to fancy 
 
 ourfelves
 
 Ch. VII. 3. A N D M U S I C. 195 
 
 ourfelves in the fame condition, and to feel 
 in fome degree the pain or pleafure that we 
 think we fliould feel if we were really in that 
 condition. Hence the good of others be- 
 comes in fome meafure our good, and their 
 evil our evil ; the obvious effecl of which 
 is, to bind men more clofely together in 
 fociety, and prompt them to promote the 
 good, and relieves the diftreffes, of one ano- 
 ther. Sympathy with diftrefs is called Com- 
 pafTion or Pity : Sympathy with happinefs 
 has no particular name ; but, when expreff- 
 ed in words to the happy perfon, is termed 
 Congratulation. 
 
 We fympathife, in fome degree, even 
 with things inanimate. To lofe a ftaff we 
 have long worn, to lee in ruins a houfe in 
 which we have long lived, may affe(5l us 
 with a momentary concern, though in point 
 of value the loi^ be nothing. With the 
 dead we fympathife, and even with thofe 
 circumftances of their condition whereof we 
 know that they are utterly infenfible ; fuch 
 as, their being fliut up in a cold and fo- 
 litary grave, excluded from the light of the 
 fun, and from all the pleafures of life, and 
 liable in a few years to be forgotten for ever. 
 
 • Towards the brute creation our fympa- 
 
 thy is, and ought to be, ftrong, they being 
 percipient creatvires like ourfelves. A mer- 
 ciful man is merciful to his beaft ; and that 
 perfon would be deemed melancholy or 
 hard-hearted, who Ihould fee the frifking 
 B b 2 lamb.
 
 196 ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 lamb, or hear the chearful fong of the lark, 
 or obferve the tranfport of the dog when he 
 finds the mafter he had loft, without any 
 participation of their joy. There are few 
 pafTages of defcriptive poetry into which we 
 enter with a more hearty fellow-feeling, 
 than where Virgil and Lucretius paint fo ad-^ 
 mirably, the one the forrow of a fteer for 
 the lofs of his fellow, the other the afflicfliou 
 
 of a cow deprived of her calf *. But 
 
 our fympathy exerts itfelf moft powerfully 
 towards our fellow-men : and, other cir^ 
 cumftances being equal, is ftronger or weak-- 
 er, according as they are more or lefs nearly 
 connecfled with us, and their condition more 
 or lefs fimilar to our own. 
 
 We often fympathife with one another, 
 when the perfon principally concerned has 
 little fenfe of either good or evil. We blufh 
 for another's ill-breeding, even when we 
 know that he himfelf is not aware of it. 
 We pity a madman, though we believe him 
 to be happy in his phrenfy. We tremble 
 for a mafon ftanding on a high fcaffold, 
 though we know that cuftom has made it 
 quite familiar to him. It gives us pain to 
 fee another on the brink of a precipice, tho' 
 we be fecure ourfelves, and have no doubt 
 of his circumfpe(5lion. In thefe cafes, it 
 would feem, that our fympathy is raifed, 
 
 * Virgil, Georg. iii. verf. 5 19. j Lucretius^ ii. verf. 
 
 355- 
 
 not
 
 Ch. VII. 3, AND MUSIC. 197 
 
 not fo much by our reflecting on what o- 
 thers really feel, as by a lively conception 
 of what they would feel if their nature were 
 exacflly fuch as ours ; or of what we ourfelves 
 fhould feel, if we were in their condition, 
 with the fame fentiments we have at pre- 
 fent *. 
 
 Many of our paflions may be communi- 
 cated and flrengthened by fympathy. If 
 we go into a chearfal company, we become 
 chearful; if into a mournful one, we be- 
 come fad. The prefence of a great multitude 
 engaged in devotion, tends to make us de- 
 vout. Cowards have behaved valiantly, when 
 all their companions were valiant ; and the 
 timidity of a few has (truck a panic into a 
 
 whole army. We are not, however, 
 
 much inclined to fympathife with violent 
 anger, jealoufy, envy, malevolence, and o- 
 ther fanguinary or unnatural paflions : we 
 rather take part againft them, and fympa- 
 thife with thofe perfons who are in danger 
 from them ; becaufe we can more eafily en- 
 ter into their diftrefs, and fuppofe ourfelves 
 in their condition. But indignation at vice, 
 particularly at ingratitude, cruelty, treache- 
 ry, and the like, when we are well acquaint- 
 ed with the cafe, awakens in us a mod in- 
 tenfe fellow-feeling : and the fatisfadlion we 
 gre confcious of, when fuch crimes are ade- 
 
 * See Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, fe£l i. 
 
 quately
 
 iqS ONPOETRY Parti. 
 
 quately puniflied, though fomewhat ftern 
 and gloomy, is however fincere, and by no 
 means difhonourable or detrimental to our 
 moral nature ; nor at all inconliftent with 
 that pity, which the fufferings of the cri- 
 minal extort from us, when we are made to 
 conceive them in a lively manner. 
 
 Of fympathy all men are not equally 
 fufceptiblc. They who have a lively imagi- 
 nation, keen feelings, and what we call a 
 tender heart, are moll fubjecft to it. Habits 
 of attention, the Rudy of the works of na- 
 ture, and of the beft performances in art, 
 experience of adverfity, the love of virtue 
 and of mankind, tend greatly to cherifh it ; 
 and thofe paffions whereof felf is the objedl, 
 as pride, felf-conceit, the love of money, 
 fenfuality, envy, vanity, have a tendency no 
 lefs powerful to deftroy it. Nothing renders 
 a man more amiable, or more ufeful, than 
 a difpofition to rejoice with them that re- 
 joice, and to weep with thofe that weep ; 
 to enter heartily, not ofHcioufly, into the con- 
 cerns of his fellow- creatures ; to comply 
 with the innocent humour of his company, 
 more attentive to them than to himfelf, and 
 to avoid every occaiion of giving pain or 
 offence. And nothing but downright im- 
 morality is more dilagreeable, than that 
 perfon is, who afrecfts bluntnefs of m.anner, 
 and would be thought at all times to fpeak 
 all that he thinks, vv-^hether people take it well 
 or ill ; or than thofe pedants are, of what" 
 
 ever
 
 Ch. VII. 3. AND MUSIC. igg 
 
 ever profeflion, (for we have them of all pro- 
 feihons), who, without minding others, or 
 entering into their views of things, are con- 
 tinually obtruding themfelves upon the con- 
 verfation, and their own concerns, and the 
 fentiments and language peculiar to their 
 own trades and fraternities. This behaviour, 
 though under the name of plain-dealing it 
 may arrogate a fuperiority to artificial rules, 
 is generally the efFe(5l of pride, ignorance, 
 or (lupidity, or rather of all the three in con- 
 jundlion. A modeit man, who fympathe- 
 tically attends to the condition and fenti- 
 ments of others, will of his own accord make 
 thofe allowances in their favour, which he 
 wiihes to be made in his own ; and will think 
 it as much his duty to promote their happi- 
 ncf^^ as he thinks it theirs to promote his. 
 And fuch a man is well principled in equity, 
 as well as in good-breeding : and though, 
 from an imperfecl knowledge of forms, or 
 from his having had but few opportunities 
 to put them in pradlice, his manner may 
 not be fo graceful, or fo eafy, as could be 
 wifhed, he will never give offence to any 
 perfon of penetration and good- nature. 
 
 With feelings which we do not approve, 
 or not have experienced, we are not apt to 
 fympathife. The diftrefs of the mifer when 
 his hoard is ftolen, of the fop when he foils 
 his fine jubilee cloaths, of the vaunting cox- 
 comb when his lies are detedted, of the un- 
 natural parent when his daughter efcapes 
 
 with
 
 feOO ONPOETRY Part t 
 
 ■with a deferving lover, is more likely to 
 move laughter than compaiTion. At Spar-^ 
 ta, every father had the privilege of cor- 
 re(5ling any child; he who had experience 
 of paternal tendernefs being fuppofed inca- 
 pable of wounding a parent's fenfibility by 
 unjuft or rigorous chaftifement. When the 
 Cardinal of Milan would expoflulate with 
 the Lady Conflance upon her violent forrow 
 for the lofs of her child, fhe anfwers, but 
 without deigning to addrefs her anfwer to 
 one who Ihe knew could be no competent 
 judge of her cafe, " He fpeaks to me who 
 
 *' never had a fon *." -The Greeks and 
 
 Romans were as eminent for public fpirit, 
 and for parental affection, as we ; but, for 
 a reafon elfewhere afTigned -f-, knew little 
 of that romantic love between unmarried 
 perfons, which modern manners and novels 
 have a tendency to infpire. Accordingly the 
 diflrefs in their tragedies often arofe from 
 patriotifm, and from the conjugal and filial 
 charities, but not from the romantic paflion 
 whereof we now fpeak. But there are few 
 Engliili tragedies, and ftill fewer French, 
 wherein fome love-affair is not connected 
 with the plot. This always raifes our fym- 
 pathy ; but would not have been fo intereil- 
 ing to the Greeks or Romans, becaufe they 
 
 * King John, act 3. fcene 3. 
 t EfTay on Laughter, chap. 4. 
 
 I were
 
 Ch. Vir. 3. AND MUSIC. 201 
 
 were not much acquainted with the refine- 
 ments of this paffion. 
 
 Sympathy, as the means of conveying 
 certain feeUngs from one bread to another, 
 might be made a powerful initrument of 
 moral difcipline, if poets, and other writers 
 of fable, were careful to call forth our ien- 
 fibility towards thofe emotions only that 
 favour virtue, and invigorate the human 
 mind. Ficfhions, that breathe the fpirit of 
 patriotifm or valour ; that make us fympa- 
 thife with the parental, conjugal, or filial 
 charities ; that recommend misfortune to our 
 pity, or expofe crimes to our abhorrence, 
 m.ay certainly be ufeful in a moral view, by 
 cherifliing pafTions, that, while they improve 
 the heart, can hardly be indulged to cxcefs. 
 But thofe dreadful tales, that only give 
 anguifli to the reader, can never do any 
 good : they fatigue, enervate, and over- 
 whelm the foul : and when the calamities 
 they defcribe are made to fiiU upon the in- 
 nocent, our moral principles are in feme 
 danger of a temporary depravation from the 
 perufal, whatever refemblance the fable may 
 be fuppofed to bear to the events of real life. 
 Some late authors of fidlion feem to have 
 thought it incumbent upon them, not only 
 to touch the heart, but to tear it in pieces. 
 They heap " misfortune on misfortune, 
 " grief on grief," without end, and Witaoac 
 mercy: which difcompofes the ■ ;.der too 
 much to give him either pleafiire or improve- 
 Vol, U. C c meut^
 
 202 ONPOETRY Part I. 
 
 ment ; and is contrary to the pradlice of the 
 wifer ancients, whofe moft pathetic fcenes 
 were generally fliort. 
 
 It is faid, that at the firft reprefentation 
 of the Furies of Efchylus, the horror of the 
 fpedacle was fo great, that feveral women 
 mifcarried ; which was indeed pathos with 
 a vengeance. But though the truth of that 
 flory Ihould be queftioned, it admits of no 
 doubt, that objecfts of grief and horror too 
 niucn enlarged on by the poet or novelift 
 ni^y do more harm than good, and give more 
 pain than pleafiire, to the mind of the 
 reader. Surely this muft be contrary to the 
 ehential rules of art, whether we confider 
 poetry as intended to pleafe that it may in- 
 ilru(fl:, or to inltrudl that it may the more 
 efFedually pleafe. And fuppofing the real 
 evils of life to be as various and important 
 as is commonly believed, we muft be 
 thought to conlult our own intereft very 
 abfurdly, if we feek to torment ourfelves 
 with imaginary misfortune. Horace infi- 
 nuates, that the ancient Satyric Drama (a 
 fort of burlefque tragi-comedy) was contri- 
 ved for the entertainment of the more dis- 
 orderly part of the audience * ; and our cri- 
 tics allure us, that the modern farce is ad- 
 dreffed to the upper gallery, where, it is 
 fuppofed, there is no great relifli for the fub- 
 Ijme graces of the Tragic Mufe. Yet I be- 
 
 "* Hor. Ar, Poet. vcrf. 221. 
 
 lieve
 
 Ch. VII. 3. A N D M U S I C. 203 
 
 lieve thefe little pieces^ if confiflent with de- 
 cency, will be found neither unpleafant nor 
 unprofitable even to the mofl learned fpec- 
 tator. A man, efpecially if advanced in 
 years, would not chufe to go home with that 
 gloom upon his mind which an afFecfling tra- 
 gedy is intended to diffufe : and if the play 
 has conveyed any found inftrudlion, there 
 is no rifk of its being diffipated by a little in- 
 nocent mirth. 
 
 Upon the fame principle, I confefs, that 
 I am not offended with thofe comic fcenes 
 wherewith our great Dramatic Poet has oc- 
 cafionally thought proper to diverfify his tra- 
 gedies. Such a licence will at leaft be al- 
 lowed to be more pardonable in him, than 
 it would be in other Tragic poets. They 
 mufl make their way to the heart, as an ar- 
 my does to a flrong fortification, by flow 
 and regular approaches ; becaufe they can- 
 not, like Shakefpeare, take it at once, and 
 by dorm. In their pieces, therefore, a mix- 
 ture of comedy might have as bad an effecfl, 
 as if befiegers were to retire from the out- 
 works they had gained, and leave the ene- 
 my at leifure to fortify them a fecond time. 
 But Shakefpeare penetrates the heart by a 
 fingle effort, and can make us as fad in the 
 prefent fcene, as if we had not been merry 
 in the former. With ftich powers as he pof- 
 feiTed in the- pathetic, if he had made his 
 tragedies uniformly mournful or terrible from 
 beginning to end, no perfon of fenfibiiity 
 C c 2 wo>ild
 
 204 ONPOETRY Part 1/ 
 
 would have been able to fupport the repre- 
 
 fentation. As to the probability of thefe 
 
 mixed compofitions, it admits of no doubt. 
 Nature every where prefents a fimilar mix- 
 ture of tragedy and comedy, of joy and 
 forrow, of laughter and folemnity, in the 
 common affairs of life. The fervants of a 
 court know little of what pafles among prin- 
 ces and ftatefmen, and may therefore, like 
 the porter in Macbeth, be very jocular when, 
 th-eir fuperiors are in deep diftrefs. The 
 d-ath of a favourite child is a great afflidlion 
 to parents and friends ; but the man who 
 digs the grave may, like Goodman Delver 
 in Hamlet, be very chearful while he is 
 going about his work. A confpiracy may 
 be dangerous ; but the conftable who ap- 
 prehends the traitors may, like Dogberry, 
 be a ludicrous chara<fter, and his very ab- 
 furdities may be inftrumental in bringing 
 the plot to light, as well as in delaying or 
 
 haftening forward the difcovery. 1 grant, 
 
 that compofitions, like thofe 1 would now 
 apologize for, cannot properly be called ei- 
 ther tragedies or comedies : but the name 
 is of no confequence ; let them be called 
 Plays : and if in them nature is imitated in 
 flich a way as to give pleafure and inftruc- 
 lion, they are as vrell entitled to the deno- 
 mination of Dramatic Pocf/is, as any thing in 
 
 Sophocles, Racine, or Voltaire. But to 
 
 return : 
 
 Love is another " tyrant of the throbbing 
 
 " breaft,"
 
 Ch. VII. 3. AND MUSI C. 205 
 
 " breaft," of whom they who wifh to fee 
 the flage transformed into a fchool of vir- 
 tue, complain, that his influence in the 
 modern drama is too defpotical. Love, kept 
 within due bounds, is no doubt, as the 
 fong fays, " a gentle and a generous paf- 
 *' lion ;" but no other paflion has fo ftrong 
 a tendency to tranfgrefs the due bounds : 
 and the frequent contemplation of its va- 
 rious ardours and agonies, as exhibited in 
 plays and novels, can fcarce fail to enervate 
 the mind, and to raife emotions and fym- 
 pathies unfriendly to innocence. And cer- 
 tain it is, that fables in which there is nei- 
 ther love nor gallantry, may be made high- 
 ly interefting even to tlie fancy and affec- 
 tions of a modern reader. This appears, 
 not only from the writings of Shakefpeare, 
 and other great authors, but from the Pil- 
 grim s Progrejs of Bunyan, and the hiftory 
 of Robinfon Crufoe : than which lafl, there 
 is not perhaps in any language a more in- 
 terefting narrative ; or a tale better con- 
 trived for communicating to the reader a 
 lively idea of the importance of the mecha- 
 nic arts, of the fweets of focial life, and of 
 the dignity of independence. 
 
 PART
 
 PART II 
 Of the Language of Pob 
 
 TRY. 
 
 HAVING finifhed what I intended to fay 
 on the general nature of Poetry, as 
 an Imitative Art, I proceed to con- 
 fider the instrument which it employs in 
 its imitations ; or, in other words, to explain 
 the General Nature of Poetic Language. 
 For language is the poet's inftrument of i- 
 mitation, as found is the mufician's, and co- 
 lour the painter's. My conclufions on this 
 part of the fubjedl will be found to terminate 
 in the principles already laid down. 
 
 Words in Poetry are chofen, firft, for their 
 fenfe ; and, fecondly, for their found. That 
 the firft of thefe grounds of choice is the 
 more excellent, nobody can deny. He who 
 in literary matters prefers found to fenfe, is 
 a fool. Yet found is to be attended to, even 
 in profe; and in verfe demands particular 
 
 attention. 
 
 L--
 
 O N P O E T R Y, 8cc. 207 
 
 attention. I fhall confider Poetical Language, 
 firft, as SIGNIFICANT; and, fecondly, as 
 
 SUSCEPTIBLE OF HARMONY. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of Poetical Language, confidered as 
 fignificant. 
 
 IF, as I have endeavoured to prove, Poetry- 
 be imitative of Nature, poetical fi6lions 
 of real events, poetical images of real ap- 
 pearances in the viiible creation, and poetical 
 perfonages of real human characfters ; it 
 would feem to follow, that the language of 
 Poetry mufl be an imitation of the language 
 of Nature. For nothing but what is fuppofed 
 to be natural can pleafe ; and language, as 
 well as fable, imagery, and moral defcrip- 
 
 tion, may difpleafe, by being unnatural. 
 
 What then is meant by Natural Language ? 
 This comes to be our firft inquiry. 
 
 SECT.
 
 2o8 ONPOETRY Part IF. 
 
 SECT. I. 
 
 Alt idea of Natural Language, 
 
 'T^HE term. Natural Language has fometimes 
 ■^ been ufed by philofophers to denote 
 thofe tones of the human voice, attitudes of 
 the body, and configurations of the features, 
 which, being naturally expreffive of certaifti 
 emotions of the foul, are univerfal among* 
 mankind, and every where underflood,' 
 Thus anger, fear, pity, adoration, joy, con- 
 tempt, and almoft every other paffion, has 
 a look, attitude, and tone of voice, peculiar 
 to itfelf ; which would feem to be the efFedl, 
 not of men imitating one another, tj^ut of the 
 foul operating upon the body ; and which, 
 when well exprelTed in a picflure or ftatue, or 
 when it appears in human behaviour, . is un-f 
 derflood by all mankind, as the external fign 
 of that paflion which it is for the moft part 
 Oijferved to accompany. In this acceptation, 
 natural language is contradilfinguilhed to 
 thofe articulate voices to which the name 
 oi fpeech has been appropriated; and which 
 are alfo univerfal among mankind, though 
 different in different nations ; but derive all 
 their meaning from human compad: and 
 artifice^ and are not underftood except by 
 2 thole
 
 Ch. I. I. AND MUSIC. 20^ 
 
 thofe who have been inflrucfled in the ufe 
 of them. — But in this inquiry the term Na- 
 tural Language denotes that ufe of fpeech, or 
 of artificial language^ which is fuitable to 
 the fpeaker and to the occafion. *' Proper 
 *' words in proper places," is Swift's defi- 
 nition of a good ftyle ; and may with equal 
 propriety, ferve for a definition of that ftyle, 
 or mode of language, which is here called 
 Natural^ in contradiftincflion, not to artificial 
 (itfelf being artificial) but to unnatural; and 
 which it is the poet's bufinefs to imitate. I 
 fay, to imitate : for as poets (for a reafbn al- 
 ready given) copy nature, not as it is, but in 
 that ftate of perfection, wherein, confiftent- 
 ly with verifimilitude, and with the genius of 
 their work, it may be fuppofed to be ; and 
 are therefore faid to imitate nature, that is, 
 to give a view of nature fimilar to, but fome- 
 what different from the reality: — fo, in 
 forming poetical language, they muft take 
 for their model human fpeech, not in that, 
 imperfedl ftate wherein it is ufed on the com- 
 mon occafions of life, but in that ftate of per- 
 fed:ion, whereof, confiftently with verifimill- 
 tude, it may be fuppofed to be fufceptible. 
 
 But, as we cannot eftimate the perfetflion 
 or imperfe6:ion of poetical imagery, till we 
 know the natural appearance of the thing 
 defcribed ; fo neither can we judge of this 
 perfection of human fpeech, till we have 
 formed focne idea of that quality of language 
 which VsTc cxprcfs by ihe epithet natwaL 
 
 Vol. II. 'D d That
 
 2IO ON POETRY PartlL 
 
 That fome modes of language are more na- 
 tural than others, and that one mode may 
 be natural at one time which at another 
 ■would be unnatural, muft be evident even to 
 thofe who never ftudied criticifm. Would 
 foft words, for example, be natural in the 
 mouth of a very angry man ? or do even 
 the vulgar expect bluftering exprefTions from 
 him who melts with pity, or love, or for- 
 row ? Between groans and pain, tears and 
 grief, laughter and jocularity, trembling and 
 fear, the connecftion is net more natural, 
 than between certain fentiments of the human 
 mind and certain modifications of human 
 language. 
 
 Natural language and good language are 
 not the fame : and Swift's definition, which 
 is equally applicable to both, will not per- 
 haps be found to exprefs adequately the cha- 
 yaclcriftic of either. The qualities of good 
 language arc perfpicuity, fimplicity, elegance, 
 energy, and harmony. But language may 
 pofiei's all thcfe qualities, and yet not be na- 
 tural. Would the Anacreontic or Ovidian 
 iimpiicity be natural in the mouth of Achilles 
 i.'pbraiding Agamemnon with his tyranny 
 and injuilice ; or of Lear defying the tem- 
 peifuous elements, and imprecating perdi- 
 tion upon his daughters ? Would that per- 
 fpicuity which we juftly admire in Cato's 
 foliloquy *, be acccuntcd natural in Ham- 
 
 '^- It muil: be fo. Plato, thou reafon'ft well, &c. 
 
 let's
 
 Oh. I. t. A N D M U S I G. 211 
 
 Iet*s *, by thofe who know, that the former 
 is fuppoied to fpeak with the rationahty of 
 a philofopher, and the latter with the agita- 
 tion of a young man tortured to madncfs with 
 forrow, and love, difappointment, and re- 
 venge ? Would language fo magnificent as 
 that in which the fublime Othello fpeaks of 
 the pomps and honours of war, be natural 
 in the mouth of the foft, the humble, the 
 broken-hearted Defdemona bewailing her un- 
 happy fate ? Or would the fonorous har- 
 mony of theDithyrambic fong, or Epic poem, 
 fuit the fimplicity of fhepherds, contending 
 in alternate verfe, and praifing their mi- 
 ftreffes, putting forth riddles, or making re- 
 marks upon the weather ? — Yet language 
 muft always be fo far fimple as to have no 
 fuperfluous decoration ; fo far perfpicuous, 
 as to let us fee clearly what is meant ; and fo 
 far elegant, as to give no ground to fufpecft 
 the author of ignorance, or want of tafle. 
 
 Good language is determinate and ab- 
 folute. We know it where-ever we meet with 
 it ; we may learn to fpeak and write it from.- 
 books alone. Whether pronounced by a 
 clown or a hero, a wife man or an idiot, 
 language is dill good if it be according to 
 rule. But natural language is fomething not 
 abfolute but relative ; and can be eftimated 
 by thofe only, who have ftudied men as well 
 
 * To he, or not to be, &c. 
 
 D d 2 as
 
 m O N P O E T R Y PartIL 
 
 as books ; and who attend to the real or 
 fuppofed characler of the Ipeaker, as well 
 as to the import of what is fpoken. 
 
 There are feveral particulars relating to the 
 fpeaker which we mufl attend to, before we 
 can judge whether his expreflion be natu- 
 ral. — It is obvious, that his temper muft be 
 taken into the account. From the fiery and 
 paffionate we expedl one fort of language, 
 from the calm and moderate another. That 
 impetuofity which is natural in Achilles, 
 w^ould in Sarpedon or Ulyfles be quite the 
 contrary ; as the mellLflaent copioufnefs of 
 Neftor would ill become the blunt rufticity 
 of Ajax. Thofe diverfities of temper, which 
 make men think differently on the fame oc- 
 cafion, will alfo make them fpeak the fame 
 thoughts in a different manner. And as the 
 temper of the fime man is not always uni-- 
 form, but is variouily affedled by youth and 
 old age, and by the prevalence of temporary 
 paffions ; fo neither will that llyle which 
 is moll natural to him be always uniform, 
 but may be energetic or languid, abrupt or 
 equable, figurative or plain, according to the 
 paffiODS or fentiments that may happen to 
 predominate in his mind. And hence, to. 
 judge whether his language be natural, we 
 mufl attend, not only to the habitual temper, 
 but alfo to the prcfent paffimts^ and even to 
 the ^^^ of the fpeaker. — Nor ihould we o- 
 vcrlook his intelleciiial peculiarities. If his 
 thoughts be confufed or indiilind, his flyle 
 
 muft
 
 CL. I. I. AND MUSI C. 213 
 
 muft be immethodical and obfcure; if the 
 former be much diverfified, the latter will be 
 equally copious. — The external c'lrcumjiances 
 of the fpeaker, his rank and fortune, his 
 education and company, particularly tlie two 
 laft, have no little influence in chara(5leri{ing 
 his ftyle. A clown and a man of learning, a 
 pedantic and a polite fcholar, a hufbandman 
 and a foldier, a mechanic and a feaman, re- 
 citing the fame narrative, will, each of them, 
 adopt a peculiar mode of expreflion, fuitable 
 to the ideas that occupy his mind, and to the 
 language he has been accviftomed to fpcak 
 and hear : and if a poet, who had occafion 
 to introduce thefe charaders in a comedy, 
 were to give the fame uniform colour of 
 language to them all, the flyle of that co- 
 medy, however elegant, would be unnatural. 
 — Our language is alfo afFedled by the very 
 thoughts we utter. When thefe are lofty or 
 groveling, there is a correfpondent eleva- 
 tion or meannefs in the language. The ftyle 
 of a great man is generally fimple, but fel- 
 <lom fails to partake of the dignity and e- 
 nergy of his fentiments. In Greece and 
 Rome, the corruption of literature was a 
 confequence of the corruption of manners ; 
 and the manly fimplicity of the old writers 
 difappeared, as the nation became effeminate 
 and fervile. Horace and Longinus * fcruple 
 
 * Hor. Ar. Poet. vcrf. 323.-332. Longinus, fe£V. 
 9. 44. 
 
 not
 
 214 ONPOETRY Part It 
 
 not to afcribe the decline of eloquence, in 
 their days, to a littlenefs of mind, the effect 
 of avarice and luxury. The words of Lon- 
 ginus are remarkable. " The truly eloquent 
 *' (fays he) muft polfefs an exalted and noble 
 *' mind ; for it is not poflible for thofe who 
 *' have all their lives been employed in fer- 
 *' vile purfuits, to produce any thing worthy 
 ** of immortal renown or general admira- 
 *-' tion." In fadl, our words not only are 
 the iigns, but may be confidered as the 
 pidlures of our thoughts. The fame glow 
 or faintnefs of colouring, the fame con- 
 liftency or incoherence, the fame proportions 
 of great and little, the fame degrees of ele- 
 vation, the fame light and fhade, that dif- 
 tinguiih the one, will be found to charac-^ 
 terife the other : and from fuch a character 
 as Achilles or Othello we as naturally ex- 
 pect a bold, nervous, and animated phrafe- 
 ology, as a manly voice and commanding 
 gefture. — -It is hardly neceffary to add, that 
 ilyle, in order to be natural, mufl be adapted 
 to the fex and to the nation of the fpeaker. 
 Thefe circumftances give a peculiarity to hu- 
 man thought, and muft therefore diverfify 
 the modes of human language. I will not 
 fay, as fome have done, that a lady is al- 
 ways diftinguiiliable by her ityle and hand- 
 w^riting, as v/ell as by her voice and features ; 
 but I believe it may be truly faid, that 
 female converfation, even when learned or 
 philofophical, has, for tne moft part, an eafe 
 
 and
 
 Ch. I. I. AND MUSIC. 215 
 
 and a delicacy, which the greatefl maflers 
 of language would find it difHcult to imi- 
 tate. The flyle that Shakefpeare has given to 
 Juliet's nurfe, Mrs Quickly, Defdemona, or 
 Katharine, would not fuit any male ; nor 
 the phrafeology of Dogberry or Petruchio, 
 Piftol or Falftaff, any female characfler. Na- 
 tional peculiarities are alfo to be attended to 
 by thofe who ftudy natural language in its 
 full extent. We fhould expedl a copious and 
 flowery flyle from an Afiatic monarch, and 
 a concife and figurative exprefTion from an. 
 American chief. A French marquis, and a 
 country-gentleman of England, would not 
 life the fame phrafes on the fame fubjecl, even 
 though they were fpeaking the fame language 
 with equal fluency. And a 'vaUt-dt-chamhrz 
 newly imported from Paris, or a Scotch foot- 
 man who had been born and bred in Edin- 
 burgh, appearing in an Engliih comedy, 
 would be cenfured as an imnatural cha- 
 ra6ler, if the poet were to make him fpeak 
 pure EngUili. 
 
 May vv^e not infer, from w^hat has been 
 faid, that " Language is then according to 
 " nature, when it is fuitable to the fuppofed 
 *' condition of the fpeaker ?" — meaning by 
 the word condition, not onlv the outward 
 circumilances of fortune^ rank, employ merit, 
 fex, age, and nation, but alfo the internal 
 temperature of the imderftanding and pajjions^ 
 as well as the peculiar nature of the thoughts 
 th^t may happen to occupy the mind. Ho- 
 race
 
 2i6 ON POETRY Part IL 
 
 race feems to have had this in view, when 
 he faid, that " if what is fpoken on the ftage 
 ** fliall be unfuitable to the fortunes of the 
 " fpeaker, both the learned and unlearned 
 " part of the audience will be fenfible of the 
 " impropriety: — For that it is of great 
 "^ importance to the poet to confider, whe- 
 " ther the perfon fpeaking be a flave or a 
 *' hero; a man of mature age, or warm 
 '" with the paiTions of youth ; a lady of rank, 
 " or a buftling nurfe ; a luxurious Affyrian, 
 *' or a cruel native of Colchis ; a mercantile 
 '' traveller, or a flationary hufbandman ; 
 " an acute Argive, or a dull Beotlan *." 
 
 But Horace's remark, it may be faid, re- 
 fers more immediately to the flyle of the 
 drama ; whereas we would extend it to poe- 
 try, and even to compofition, in general. 
 And it may be thought, that in thofe wri- 
 tings wherein the imitation of human life is 
 lefs perfecfl, as in the Epic poem, or where- 
 in tlie ftyle is uniformly elevated and pure, 
 as in Hiftory and Tragedy, this rule of lan- 
 guage is not attended to. In what refpe(51:, 
 for example, can the ftyle of Livy or Homer 
 be faid to be fuitable to the condition of 
 the fpeaker ? Have we not, in each author, 
 a great variety of fpeeches, afcribed to men 
 of different nations, ranks, and characflers ; 
 who are all, notwithftanding, made to utter 
 a language, that is not only grammatical, 
 
 * Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. lu. 
 
 2 but
 
 Ch. I. t. AND MUSI C. 217 
 
 but elegant and harmonious ? Yet no reader 
 is offended ; and no critic ever faid, that 
 the flyle of Homer or Livy is unnatural. 
 
 The objection is plaufible. But a right 
 examination of it will be found not to weak- 
 en, but to confirm and illuflrate the prefent 
 dodlrine. I fay, then, that language is na- 
 tural, when it is fuited to the fuppofed con- 
 dition and circumflances of the fpeaker. — ■ 
 Now, in hiftory, the fpeaker is no other than 
 the hiflorian himfelf ; who claims the privi- 
 lege of telling his tale in his own way; and 
 of exprefling the thoughts of other meUj 
 where he has occafion to record them, in his 
 own language. All this we mull; allow to be 
 natural, if we fuppofe him to be ferious. 
 For every man, who fpeaks without affecfla- 
 tion, has a ftyle and a manner peculiar to 
 himfelf. A perfon of learning and elo- 
 quence, recapitulating on any folemn occa- 
 fion the fpeech of a clown, would not be 
 thought in earneft if he did not exprefs him- 
 felf with his wonted propriety. It would be 
 difficult, perhaps he would find it impoflible, 
 to imitate the hefitation, barbarifms, and 
 broad accent, of the poor man; and if he 
 were to do fo, he would affront his audience, 
 and, inflead of being thought a natural 
 fpeaker, or capable of condutHng important 
 bufinefs, would prove himfelf a mere buf- 
 foon. Now an hiflorian is a perfon who al- 
 fumes a character of great dignity, and ad-* 
 drelfes himfelf to a mofl refpectable audi- 
 
 Vol. 11. E e ence.
 
 2i8 O N P O E T R Y Part II. 
 
 ence. He undertakes to communicate infor*- 
 mation, not to his equals only or inferiors, 
 but to the greateft, and mod learned mea 
 upon earth. He willies them to liilen to him, 
 and to liften with pleafure, to believe his 
 teftimony, and trealure up his fayings as 
 lefTons of wifdom, to direct them in the conr 
 duel of life, and in the government of king- 
 doms. In fo awful a prefence, and with 
 views fo elevated, what flyle is it natural 
 for him to afllime I A flyle uniformly ferious, 
 and elegant, clear, orderly, and emphatical, 
 let off with modeft ornaments to render it 
 plealing, yet plain and fimple, and fuch as 
 becomes a man whofe chief concern it is to 
 know and deliver the truth. The moralifl 
 and the preacher are in fimilar circumfliances, 
 and will naturally adopt a fimilar flyle : only 
 a more fublime and more pathetic energy, 
 and language ftill plainer than that of the 
 hillorian, though not lefs pure, will with 
 reafon be expeded from thofe, who pro^ 
 nounce the ditflates of divine wifdom, anci 
 profefs to inftru(5l the meaneft, as v^rell as- 
 the greatefl of mankind, in matters of ever- 
 lafling importance. 
 
 When a man, for the public amufement, 
 afliimes any character, it is , not neceffary, 
 nor pofFible, for him to. impofe upon us fb 
 far as to make us believe him to be the very 
 p.erfon he reprefents : but we have a right ta 
 expecl that his behaviour lliall not belie his 
 pretenfions in any thing material. With all 
 
 hi&
 
 Ch. I. I. A N D M U S I C. 219 
 
 his powers of incantation, Garrick him (elf 
 will never be able to charm us into a be- 
 lief, that he is really Macbeth : all that can 
 be done he does ; he fpeaks and acls juft as 
 if he were that perfon : and this is all that 
 the public requires of him. Were he to fall 
 Ihort, — or rather (for we need not fuppofe 
 what will never happen) — were any other 
 tragedian to fall fliort of our expecStations, 
 and plead, by way of excufe, that truly he 
 was neither a king nor a traitor, neither an 
 ambitious nor a valiant man, and therefore 
 ought not to be blamed for not adling as be- 
 comes one ; we fhould more eafily pardon 
 the fault, than the apology. — Now it is 
 very true, that an Epic poet is no more in- 
 fpired than any other writer, and perhaps 
 was never ferioufly believed to be fo. But as 
 he lays claim to infpiration ; and before the 
 whole world profeiTes to difplay the mod in- 
 ttrefting and moil marvellous events, to be 
 particularly informed in regard to the 
 thoughts as well as acftions of men, and to 
 know the affairs of invifible beings and the 
 economy of unfeen worlds ; we have a right 
 to exped: from him a language as much ele- 
 vated above that of hiftory and philofophy, 
 as his affumed character and pretcnhons are 
 higher than thofe of the hiftorian and philo- 
 fopher. From fuch a man, fuppofed to be in- 
 veiled with fuch a charadlcr, we have in- 
 deed a right to require every poiTible perfec- 
 tion of human thought and language. And 
 E e 2 therefore..
 
 220 O N P O E T R Y Part 11. 
 
 therefore, if he were to introduce mean per- 
 fons talking in their own dialedt, it would 
 be as unnatural, as if a great orator, on the 
 *nio{l folemn occalion, were to lifp and 
 prattle like a child ; or a hero to addrefs 
 his victorious army in the jargon of a gypfy 
 or pickpocket. 
 
 In the Epopee, the Mufe, or rather the 
 Poet, is fuppofcd to fpeak from beginning 
 to end ; the incidental orations afcribed to m 
 Therfites or Neftor, to Ulylles or Polypheme, 1 
 to Afcanius or Eneas, to Satan or Raphael, | 
 not being delivered, as in tragedy, by the 
 feveral fpeakers in their own perfons, but re-- 
 hearfcd by the poet in the way of narrative. 
 Thefe orations, therefore, muft not only be 
 adapted to the characters of thofe to whom 
 they are afcribed, and to the occafion upon 
 which they are fpoken, but muft alfo par- 
 take of the fuppofed dignity of the poet's 
 character. And if fo, they muft be elevated 
 to the general pitch of the compofition ; even 
 though they be laid to have been uttered by 
 perfons from whom, in common life, ele- 
 gance of ftyle would not have been expell- 
 ed. And a certain degree of the fame ele- 
 vation muft adhere to every defcription in E- 
 pic poetry, though the thing defcribed fliould 
 be comparatively unimportant : — which is 
 no more than we naturally look for, when an 
 eloquent man, in a folemn aflembly, gives a 
 detail of ordinary events, or recapitulates, in 
 |ii§ own ftyle and manner, the fentiments of
 
 Ch. I. I. AND MUSI C. 121 
 
 an illiterate peafant. So that in the Epic 
 poem, (and in all ferious poetry, narrative 
 or didadlic, wherein the poet is the fpeaker), 
 language, in order to be natural, muft be 
 fuited to the alTumed or fuppofed characfler 
 of the poet, as well as to the occafion and 
 fubjecft. Polyphemus, in a farce or comedy, 
 might ipeak clowniihly ; becaufe he there 
 appears in perfon, and ruflicity is his cha- 
 radler : but Homer and Virgil, rehearfing 
 a fpeech of Polyphemus, would indeed de- 
 liver thoughts fuitable to his chara61:er and 
 condition, but would exprefs them in their 
 
 own elegant and harmonious language. 
 
 And hence we fee, how abfurdly thofe cri- 
 tics argue, who blame Virgil for making 
 Eneas too poetical (as they are plea fed to 
 phrafe it) in the account he gives Dido of his 
 adventures. They might with equal reafon 
 affirm, that every perfon in the Iliad and 
 OdylTey, as well as Eneid, fpeaks too poe- 
 tically. The miilake arifes from confound- 
 ing Epic with Dramatic compoiition, and 
 fuppofnig that the heroes both of the one 
 and of the other fpeak in their own perfons. 
 Whereas, in the firft the poet is the only 
 fpeaker, and in the laft he never fpeaks at 
 all : nay, the firft is nothing more, from 
 beginning to end, but a narration, or fpeech, 
 delivered by a perfon afRiming, and pre- 
 tending to fupport, the character of an 
 infpired poet. In the ftyle, therefore, of the 
 Epopee, the poetic charadler muft every 
 
 where
 
 222 ONPOETRY Part II. 
 
 ■where predominate, as well as the heroic ; 
 becaufe a fpeech, in order to appear natural, 
 mufl be fuited to the fuppofed charadler of 
 the fpeaker, as well as to the things and per- 
 fons fpoken of. 
 
 The puns that Milton afcribes to his devils, 
 on a certain occafion *, are generally and 
 juftly condemned. It has, however, been 
 urged, as an apology for them, that they 
 are uttered by evil beings, who may be fup- 
 pofed to have lofl, when they fell, all tafle 
 for elegance, as well as for virtue; and that 
 the poet, on this one occafion, might have 
 intended to make them both deteftable as 
 devils, and defpicable as butfoons. But this 
 plea cannot be admitted. For the fiends of 
 Milton, notwith {landing their extreme wic- 
 kednefs, retain an elevation of mind, with- 
 out which they could not have appeared in 
 an Epic poem, and which is inconfiftent 
 with the futility of a buffoon or witling. 
 Granting, then, (what is not likely), that j 
 the poet, in this one infhance, meant to ' 
 render them contemptible for their low wit, 
 he muft yet be blamed for affigning them I 
 a part fo repugnant to their general character. 
 Or, even if he could be vindicated on this 
 fcore, he is liable to cenfure for having put 
 fo paltry a part of his narration in the mouth 
 of the holy angel Raphael. Or, if even for 
 this we were to pardon him, ftill he is in- 
 
 * Paradife Loft, book 6. verf. 609. — 627. 
 
 excufeable^
 
 Ch.L I. AND MUSIC. 223 
 
 excufeable, for having forgotten the alTumed 
 dignity of his own character fo far, as to 
 retail thofe wretched quibbles ; which, whe- 
 ther we fuppofe them to be uttered by an 
 angel, a devil, or an epic poet, are grofsly 
 unnatural, becaufe totally unfuitable to the 
 
 condition and charadler of the fpeaker. 
 
 A mind pofTefTed with great ideas does not 
 naturally attend to fuch as are trifling *; 
 and, while a(5luated by admiration, and other 
 important emotions, will not be apt to turn 
 its view to thofe things that provoke con- 
 tempt or laughter. Such we fuppofe the 
 mind of every fublime writer to be ; and 
 fuch in facfl it mud be, as long at leafl as he 
 employs himfelf in fublime compofition. 
 
 * Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eye 
 Shoots round the wide hoi'izon, to furvey 
 The Nile or Ganges roll his wafteful tide 
 Through mountains, plains, through empires black 
 
 with fhade, 
 And continents of fand, will turn his gaze 
 To mark the windings of a fcanty rill. 
 That murmurs at his feet ? 
 
 Pleafures of Imagination, book i. 
 
 ** The meditations," fays a very ingenious Avriter, 
 (fpeaking of the view from Mount Etna), " are ever 
 ** elevated in proportion to the grandeur and fublimity 
 *' of the objeils that furround us ; and here, where 
 " you have all nature to ronfe your imagination, what 
 *' man can remain inactive ?" See the whole palTage ; 
 which, from its fublimity, one would be tempted to 
 think had been compofed on the fpot ; 
 
 Bry don's Travels, letter lo. 
 
 Mean
 
 •224 ON POETRY Part IL 
 
 Mean language, therefore, or ludicrous fen* 
 timent, are unnatural in an Epic poem, for 
 this reafon, among others, that they do not 
 naturally occur while one is compofing it. 
 And hence Milton's humorous defcription of 
 the limbo of Vanity *, however juft as an alle- 
 gory, however poignant as a fatire, ought 
 not to have obtained a place in Paradife Loft. 
 Such a thing might fuit the volatile genius, of 
 Ariofto and his followers ; but is quite un- 
 worthy of the fober and well-principled dif- 
 ciple of Homer and Virgil. 
 
 In Dramatic Poetry, the perfons acl and 
 fpeak in their own charadler, and the au- 
 thor never appears at all. An elevated ftyle 
 may, however, be natural in tragedy, on 
 account of the high rank of the perfons, 
 and of the important affairs in which they 
 are engaged. Even Comedy, who takes her 
 chara6lers from the middle and lower ranks 
 of mankind, may occafionally lift up her 
 voice, as Horace fays f, when fhe means to 
 give utterance to any important emotion, or 
 happens to introduce a perfonage of more 
 
 than ordinary dignity. But what if per- ' 
 
 foils of low condition iliould make their ap- 
 pearance in Tragedy ? And as the great 
 mull have attendants, how can this be guard- 
 ed againft ? And if fuch perfons appear, 
 
 * Paradife Loft, book 3. verf. 444. 
 f Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. 92. 
 
 2 will
 
 Ch. I. i. AND MUSIC. 22^ 
 
 will not their language be unnatural, if rai- 
 fed to a level with that of their fuperiors ? 
 Or, would it not give a motley caft to the 
 poem, if it were to fall below that level ? 
 No doubt, an uniform colour of lan- 
 guage, though not eiTential to Tragi- comedy^ 
 or to the Hiftoric drama, is indifpenflible in 
 a regular tragedy. But perfons of mean 
 rank, if the tragic poet find it neceilary to 
 bring them in, may eaiily be fuppofed to 
 have had advantages of education tb qua- 
 lify them for bearing a part in the dialogue^ 
 or for any other office in which he may 
 think proper to employ them.— — -Befides, 
 language admits of many degrees of eleva- 
 tion ; and a particular turn of fancy, or tem- 
 perature of the paflions, will fometimes give 
 wonderful fublimity to the ftyle even of a 
 peafant or of a favage. So that the ftyle of 
 tragedy, notwithftanding its elevation, may- 
 be as various as the characlers and paflions 
 of men, and may yet in each variety be 
 
 natural. Moreover, thefubjec^l, and con- 
 
 fequently the emotions, of tragedy, are al-* 
 ways important ; and important emotions 
 prevailing in the mind of a peafant will exalc 
 and invigorate his language. When the old 
 ihepherd in Douglas exclaims, " Bleft be the 
 *' day that made me a poor man ; My po- 
 " verty has faved my mafter's houfe;" the 
 thought and the words, though fufEciently 
 tragical, have no greater elevation, than 
 Vol. II. F f w€
 
 126 ONPOETRY Part II. 
 
 we fliould expect from any perfon of his 
 character and circumftances. Simphcity of 
 ftvle, for which none are difqnahfied by the 
 nieannefs of their condition, often enforces 
 a fubUme or pathetic fentiment with the 
 happieft effect. Let it be obferved fur- 
 ther, that poetical Language is an imitation 
 of real language improved to a ftate of per- 
 fecfiion ; and therefore, that the ftyle of tra- 
 gedy, though raifed above that of common 
 life, will never offend, fo long as its eleva- 
 tions are at all confident with probability. 
 In fact, when the paffions are well expreffed, 
 and the charaders well drawn, a tragic poet 
 needs not fear, that he ihall be found fault 
 with for the elegance of his language : tho* 
 no doubt a great mailer w^ill always know 
 how to proportion the degree of elegance to 
 the charavfter of the fpeaker. 
 
 The dignity of a Tragic hero may be fo 
 great as to require an elevation of language 
 equal to the pitch of Epic poetry itfelf. This 
 might be exemplified from many of the 
 fpeeches of Lear, Othello, Hamlet, and 
 Cato, and of Samfon in the Agoniftes. But, 
 in general, the Epic flyle is to be difiin- 
 guiihed from the Tragic, by a more uniform 
 elevation, and more elaborate harmony : be- 
 caufe a poet, affiuning the character of calm 
 infpiration, and rather relating the feelings 
 of others, than expreffmg his own, would 
 ' fpeak with more compofure, fleadinefs, and 
 
 art.
 
 Ch. I. I. AND MUSI C. 227 
 
 art, than could reafonably be exped^ed from 
 thofe who deUver their thoughts according to 
 the immediate impulfe of paihon. 
 
 The language of Comedy is that of com- 
 mon life improved in point of correctneis ; 
 but not much elevated ; — both becaufe the 
 fpeakers are of the middle and lower ranks 
 of mankind, and alfo becauie the affairs they 
 are engaged in give little fcope to thofe e- 
 motions that exalt the mind, and roufe the 
 
 imagination. As to the ftyle of farce, 
 
 which is frequently blended with comedy; 
 — it is purpofely degraded below that of 
 common life ; or rather, it is the ridiculous 
 language of common life made more ridicu- 
 lous. I have already remarked, that Farce is 
 to Poetry, what Caricatura is to Painting : 
 as in the lafl we look for no beauty of at- 
 titude or feature, fo neither in the firft do we 
 expect elegance of diction. Abfurdity of 
 thought produces abfurdity of words and 
 behaviour : the true farcical character is 
 more extravagantly and more uniformly ab- 
 furd, than the droll of real life ; and his lan- 
 gua.ge, in order to be natural, mud be exag- 
 gerated accordingly. Yet as nothing is e- 
 lleemed in the fine arts, but what difplays 
 the ingenuity of the artiif , 1 Ihould imagine, 
 that, even in a farce, one would not receive 
 much pleafare from mere incongruity of 
 words or actions; becaufe that may be fo 
 eafily invented. Studied abflirdity cannot be 
 F f 2 enter-
 
 228 ONPOETRY Part II, 
 
 entertaining, unlefs it be in fome degree un- 
 common *. 
 
 We may therefore repeat, and lay it down 
 as a maxim, That " language is natural, 
 " when it is fuited to the fpeaker's condition, 
 *' charader, and circumftances." And as, 
 for the mod part, the images and fentiments 
 of ferious poetry are copied from the images 
 and fentiments, not of real, but of improved, 
 nature f ; fo the language of ferious poetry 
 jnuit (as hinted already) be a tranfcript, not 
 of the real language of nature, which is 
 often diiTonant and rude, but of natural lan- 
 guage improved as far as may be confident 
 with probability, and with the fuppofed^ 
 character of the fpeaker. If this be not the 
 cafe, if the language of poetry be fuch only 
 as we hear in converfation, or read in hiflory, 
 it will, inftcad of delight, bring difappoint- 
 ment : becaufe it will fall fhort of what we 
 expetfl from an art which is recommended 
 rather by its pleafurable qualities, than by 
 its intriniic utility ; and to which, in order to 
 render it pleafing, we grant higher privileges, 
 than to any other kind of literary compofition, 
 or any other mode of human language. 
 
 The next inquiry muft therefore be, " How 
 *' is the language of nature to be improved ?" 
 or rather, " What are thofe improvements 
 
 * ElTay on Laughter, chap. 3, 
 f Se? above, part i. chap. 3. 4. 5. 
 
 (C 
 
 that
 
 Ch. I. I. A N D M U S I C. 229 
 
 *' that peculiarly belong to the language of 
 " poetry ?" 
 
 SECT. 11. 
 
 Natural language is impro'ved in poetry by 
 the ufe of Poetical uuords. 
 
 /^NE mode of improvement peculiar to 
 ^^ poetical didlion refults from the ufe of 
 thofe words, and phrafes, which, becaufe 
 they rarely occur in profe, and frequently in 
 verfe, are by the grammarian and lexicogra- 
 pher termed Poetical. In thefe fome languages 
 abound more than others : but no language 
 I am acquainted with is altogether without 
 them ; and perhaps no language can be fo, 
 in which any number of good poems have 
 been written. For poetry is better remem- 
 bered than profe, efpecially by poetical au- 
 thors ; who will always be apt to imitate 
 the phrafeology of thofe they have been ac- 
 cullomed to read and admire : and thus, 
 in the works of poets, down through fuc- 
 ceflive generations, certain phrafes may have 
 been conveyed, which, though originally 
 perhaps in common ufe, are now confined 
 to poetical compofition. Profe-writers are 
 not fo apt to imitate one another, at leafl in 
 words and phrafes ; both becaufe thev do not 
 
 fo
 
 230 O N P O E T R Y Part 11. 
 
 {"o well remember one another's phrafeology, 
 and alfo becaufe their language is lefs artifi- 
 cial, and mull not, if they would make it 
 ealy and flowing, (without which it cannot 
 be elegant), depart eflentially from the ityle 
 of corre(fl: converfation. Poets too, on ac- 
 count of the greater difficulty of their num- 
 bers, have, both in the choice and in the 
 arrangement of words, a better claim to in- 
 dulgence, and ftand more in need of a dif- 
 cretionary power. 
 
 The language of Homer differs materially 
 from what was written and fpoken in Greece 
 in the days of Socrates. It differs in the mode 
 of inileclion, it differs in the fyntax, it dif- 
 fers even in the words ; fo that one might 
 read Homer with eafe, who could not read 
 Xenophon ; or Xenophon, without being 
 able to read Homer. Yet 1 cannot believe, 
 that Homer, or the firft Greek poet who 
 wrote in his ftyle, would make choice of a 
 dialect quite different from what was intel- 
 ligible in his own time ; for poets have in 
 all ages written with a view to be read, and 
 to be read with pleafure ; which they could 
 not be, if their diclion were hard to be un- 
 derftood. It is more realbnable to fuppofe, 
 that the language of Homer is according to 
 fomc ancient dialect, which, though not 
 perhaps in famiUar ufe among the Greeks at 
 the time he wrote, was however intelligible. 
 From the Homeric to the Socratic age, a pe- 
 riod had elapfed of no lefs than four hun- 
 dred
 
 Ch. I. 2. A N D M U S I C. ^31 
 
 dred years ; during which the ftyle both of 
 difcourfe and of writing muft have under- 
 gone great alterations. Yet the lUad con- 
 tinued the ftandard of heroic poetry, and 
 was confidered as the very perfection of 
 poetical language ; notwithftanding that fome 
 words in it were become fo antiquated, or 
 fo ambiguous, that Ariftotle himfelf feems 
 to have been fomewhat doubtful in regard to 
 their meaning *. And if Chaucer's merit 
 as a poet had been as great as Homer's, and 
 the Englifh tongue under Edward the Third, 
 as perfedl as the Greek was in the fecond cen- 
 tury after the Trojan war, the ftyle of Chau- 
 cer would probably have been our model for 
 poetical dicflion at this day ; even as Pe- 
 trarcha, his contemporary, is flill imitated 
 by the beft poets of Italy. 
 
 I have fomewhere read, that the rudenefs 
 of the flyle of Ennius was imputed by the old 
 critics to his having copied too clofely the 
 diale6l of common life. But this, I prelum e, 
 muft be a miftake. For, if we compare the 
 fragments of that author with the comedies 
 of Plautus, who flouriilied in the fame age, 
 and whofe language was certainly copied from 
 that of common life, we fliall be ftruck with 
 an air of antiquity in the former, that is 
 not in the latter. Ennius, no doubt, like 
 moft other fublime poets, affected fomething 
 of the antique in his exprellion : and many 
 
 * Arlftot. Poet. cap. 25. 
 
 01
 
 232 O N P O E T R Y Part ir. 
 
 of his words and phrafes, not adopted by 
 any profe-writer now extant, are to be found 
 in Lucretius and Virgil, and were by them 
 tranfmitted to fucceeding poets. Thefe form 
 part of the Roman poetical diale(5l ; which ^ 
 appears from the writings of Virgil, where 
 we have it in perfection, to have been very 
 copious. The flyle of this charming poet is 
 indeed fo different from profe, and is al- 
 together fo peculiar, that it is perhaps im- 
 poifible to analyfe it on the common prin- 
 ciples of Latin grammar. And yet no author 
 can be more perfpicuous or more expreflive ; 
 notwithftanding the frequency of Grecifm 
 in his fyntax, and his love of old words, 
 which he, in the judgement of Quintilian, 
 knew better than any other man how to im-^' 
 prove into decoration *. 
 
 The poetical dialect of modern Italy is fo 
 different from the profaic, that I have known 
 perfons who read the hiflorians, and even 
 fpoke with tolerable fluency the language of 
 that country, but could not eafily conftrue 
 a page of Petrarcha or TalTo. Yet it is not 
 probable, that Petrarcha, whofe works are a 
 ftandard of the Italian poetical didtion f , 
 made any material innovations in his native 
 tongue. I rather believe, that he wrote it 
 nearly as it was fpoken in his time, that is, 
 
 * Qnhntil. Inftit. viil, 3. § 3. 
 
 f Viceode della litei-atura del Deniiia, cap. 4. 
 
 2 in
 
 Gh. 1. 2. AND MUSIC. 233 
 
 in the fourteenth century ; omitting only 
 harfh combinations, and taking that Uberty 
 which Homer probably, and Virgil certainly, 
 took before him, of reviving fuch old, but 
 not obfolete expreflions, as feemed peculiar- 
 ly fignificant and melodious j and polifhing 
 his ftyie to that degree of elegance which 
 human fpeech, without becoming unnatural, 
 riiay admit of, and which the genius of poe- 
 try, as an art fubfervient to pleafure, may 
 be thought td require. 
 
 The French poetry in general is diftin- 
 guifhed from profe rather by the rhime and 
 the meafure, than by any old or uncom- 
 mon phrafeology. Yet the French, on cer- 
 tain fubjeds, imitate the flyle of their old 
 poets, of Marot in particular ; and may there- 
 fore be faid to have fomething of a poetical 
 dialedl, tho' far lefs extenfive than the Ita- 
 lian, or even than the Englifh. And it may^ 
 I think, be prefumed, that in future ages 
 they will have more of this dialedl than they 
 have at prefent. This I would infer from 
 the very uncommon merit of fome of their 
 late poets, particularly Boileau and La Fon- 
 taine, who, in their refpe(5\ive departments, 
 will continue to be imitated, when the pre- 
 fent modes of French profe are greatly chan- 
 ged ; an event that, for all the pains they 
 take to prelerve their language, muil ine- 
 vitably happen, and whereof there are not 
 wanting fome prefages already. 
 
 The Englifh poetical dialc(5l is not cha- 
 VoL. lU G g raderifcd
 
 234 ON POETRY Part tl. 
 
 radlerifed by any peculiarities of inflection, 
 nor by any great latitude in the ufe of foreign 
 idioms. More copious it is, however, than 
 one would at firft imagine. I know of no 
 author who has confidered it in the way of 
 
 detail*. What follows is but a very 
 
 Ihort fpecimen. 
 
 I. A few Greek and Latin idioms are 
 
 * Since writing the above, I have had the pleafurc 
 to read the following judicious remarks on this fubjedl. 
 *' The language of the age is never the language of 
 *' poetry, except among the French, whofe verfe, where 
 *' the fentiment or image does not fupport it, differs in 
 ** nothing from profe. Our poetry, on the contrary, 
 ** has a- language peculiar to itfelf ; to which almoft every 
 ** one that has written has added fomething, by enrich- 
 ** ing it with foreign idioms and derivatives; nay, fome- 
 ** times words of their own compofition or invention. 
 *' Shakefpeare and Milton have been great creators this 
 *' way ; and no one more licencious than Pope or Dry- 
 ** den, who perpetually borrow expreffions from the 
 ** former. Let me give yoia fome inftanccs from D«yden, 
 *' whom every body reckons a great mafter of our poe- 
 ** tical tongue. Full of mufeful mopings — unlike the 
 " trim of love — a pleafant beverage — a roundelay of 
 *' love — ftood filent in his mood — with knots and 
 ** ^/2rtr^j deformed — his ireful mood — in proud array 
 " — his boon was granted — and difarray and Ihameful 
 ** rout — tuayiuard but wife — furlnfied for the field — 
 ** dodder'' d oaks — diJJjcrited — /mouldering flames — retch- 
 " lefs of laws — crones old and uglv — the beldam at his 
 *' fide — the gra/idam — hag — villanize his father's fame. 
 
 '* But they are infinite : and our language not be- 
 
 *' ing a fettled thing, (like the French), h.is an un- 
 ** doubted right to words of an hundred years old, pro- 
 **■ vided antiquity have not I'endered them unintelligible.'* 
 Mr Gray^s Letters ^ fe^. 3. letter 4. 
 
 common
 
 Ch. I. 2. AND MUSI C. i^^ 
 
 common in Englifli poetry, which are fel- 
 dom or never to be met with in profe. 
 
 Quenched of ?iop£. Shakcfpeare. 
 
 Shorn of his beams. Milton. Crea- 
 ted thing NOR valued he nor shun'd. 
 
 Milton. ^Tis thus ive r'lot^ iz'hik who 
 
 sow IT starve. Pope. This day be 
 
 bread and peace my lot. Pope. - 
 
 Into what pit thou see'st From 
 
 WHAT height fallen. Milton. He 
 
 deceived The mother of mankind^ v/hat time 
 his pride Had cast him out of heaven, 
 
 Milton. Some of thefe, with others to 
 
 be found in Milton, feem to have been a- 
 dopted for the fake of brevity, which in the 
 poetical tongue is indifpenfable. For the 
 fame reafon, perhaps, the articles a and the 
 are fometimes omitted by our poets, though 
 lefs frequently in ferious than burlefque com- 
 pofition *. — — In Englifh, the adjedlive ge- 
 nerally goes before the fubftantive, the no- 
 
 * In the Greek poetry, the omilTIon of the article is 
 more frequent than the ufe of it. The very learned and 
 ingenious author of ATreatife On the origin and progrefs 
 of Language, fuppofes, that in the time of Homer, who 
 eftabliihed their poetical language, the article was little 
 ufed by the Greeks : and this fuppofition appears highly 
 probable, when we confider, that in the Latin, which was 
 derived from the Pelafgic tongue, (a very ancient dialed!: 
 of Greek), there is no article. Yet, though the article 
 had been in ufe in Homer's age, I imagine, that he, and 
 every other Greek poet who wrote hexameters, would 
 have often found it nccejjary to leave it out. 
 
 G g 2 minative
 
 1^6 ONPOETRY Part II. 
 
 mlnative before che verb, and the active verb 
 before (what we call) the accufative. Ex- 
 ceptions, however, to this rule, are not tin- 
 common even in profe. But in poetry they 
 are more frequent. Their homely joys, and 
 DESTINY OBSCURE. Noiv fades the glim-, 
 mering land/cape on the fight ; and all the air 
 a folemn fillnefs holds. In general, that ver- 
 lification may be lefs difficult, and the ca- 
 dence more uniformly plealing ; and fome- 
 times, too, in order to give energy to expref- 
 fion, or vivacity to an image, — the Engliih 
 poet is permitted to take much greater li- 
 berties, than the profe-writer, in arranging 
 his words, and modulating his lines and pe- 
 riods. Examples may be feen in every page 
 of Paradife Loft. 
 
 2. Some of our poetical words take an ad^ 
 ditional fyllable, that they may fuit the verfe 
 the better; as, dfpart, difaifi, dfport, af- 
 fright, enchain, for part, ftain, fport, fright, 
 chain. Others feem to be nothing elfe than 
 common words made fhorter, for the con- 
 venience of the verfifier. Such are auxiliary 
 fiibliinar, trump, *uale, part, clime, foibmifs, fro-^ 
 lie, plain, drear, dread, helm, morn, mead, enj€ 
 and even, gan, illume and illumine, ope, hoar, 
 hide, fivage, fcape ; for auxiliary, fublunary, 
 trumpet, valley, depart, climate, fubmiflive, 
 froiicforae, complain, dreary, dreadful, hel- 
 met, morning, meadow, evening, began or 
 began to, illuminate, open, hoary, abide, 
 
 afTuage, efcape. Of Ibme of thefe the 
 
 fliort
 
 Ch. 1. 2. AND MUSIC. 237 
 
 Ihort form is the more ancient. In Scot- 
 land, even^ mom, bide, fwage, are ftill in 
 vulgar ufe ; but morn, except when contra- 
 diftinguilhed to even, is fynonymous, not 
 with morning, (as in the EngUlh poetical 
 
 dialedl), but with morroiv.— The Latin 
 
 poets, in a way fomewhat fimilar, and per- 
 haps for a fimilar reafon, fhortened funda- 
 mentum, tutamentum, munhnentujji, &c. into 
 fundamen, tutamen, munimen *. 
 
 3. Of the following words, which are now 
 almoft peculiar to poetry, the greater part 
 are ancient, and were once no doubt in com- 
 
 ^' tnon ufe in England, as many of them ftill 
 are in Scotland. Afield, amain, annoy (a noun), 
 anon, aye (ever), be heft, blithe, brand (fword), 
 bridal, carol, dame (lady), featly, fell (an ad- 
 jective), gaude, gore, hoji (army), lainbkin, late 
 
 ■•':^(of late), lay (poem), lea, glade, gleam, hurl^ 
 lore, meed, orijons, plod (to travel laborioully), 
 ringlet, rue (a verb), ruth, ruthlefs, fojourn (a 
 noun), Jmite, fpeed (an a(!ilive verb), fa-ve 
 (except), fpray (twig), Jleed, ftrain (fong), 
 Jirand, fwain, thrall, thrill, trail (a verb), 
 troll, luail, ivelter, ivarble, ivayivard, ivoq^ 
 
 '^-Hhe ivhile (in the mean tim«), yon, of yore, 
 
 * Quod poe^ae alligati ad certam pedum neceffi- 
 
 tatem, non Temper propriis uti poffint, fed depulii a re£ba 
 via neceflario ad eloquencH qusedam diverticula confu" 
 gianf, nee mutare qu?edam modo verba, fed extendere^ 
 (Qrriperef convertere, dividere, cogantur. 
 
 ^lintilian, 
 
 4. Thefe
 
 "2i,S O N P O E T R Y Part 11. 
 
 4. Thefe that follow are alfo poetical j 
 but, fo far as I know, were never in com- 
 mon ufe. Appal, arroivy, attune, battailous^ 
 breezy, car (chariot), clarion, cates, courfer, 
 darkling, flicker, flo'weret, emblaze, gairijl)^ 
 circlet, impearl, nightly, noifelefs, pinion (wing), 
 JJjadoivy, Jlumberous, ftreamy, troublous, zuilder 
 (a verb), Jldnll (a verb), P^ook (Ihaken), mad- 
 ding, 'vicivlefs. — 1 fuiped; too, that the fol- 
 lowing, derived from the Greek and Latin, 
 are peculiar to poetry. Clang, clangor, choral, 
 bland, boreal, dire, enfanguined, ire, ireful, la-ve 
 (to wafli), nymph (lady, girl), orient, panoply^ 
 philomel, infuriate, jocund, radiant, rapt, re- 
 dolent, refulgent, %)crdant, i>ernal, zypher, zone 
 {girdle), fyhan, fuffufe. 
 
 5. In mod languages, the rapidity of pro- 
 nunciation abbreviates fome of the common- 
 eft words, or even joins two, or perhaps 
 more, of them, into one ; and fome of thefe 
 abbreviated forms find adniiilion into wri- 
 ting. The Englifh language was quite dif- 
 iigured by them in the end of the laft cen- 
 tury ; but Swift, by his fatire and example, 
 brought them into difrepute : and, though 
 fome of them be retained in converfation, 
 as do?it, floant, cant, they are now avoided 
 in folemn ftyle ; and by elegant writers in 
 general, except v/here the colloquial dialeCl 
 is imitated, as in comedy. ^Tis and Uivas, 
 iince the time of Shaftefbury, feem to have 
 been daily loiing credit, at leaft in profe ; 
 but ftill have a place in poetry ; perhaps be- 
 
 caufe
 
 Ch. 1. 2. AND MUSIC. ^2(} 
 
 caufe they contribute to concifenefs. ^Tzvas 
 on a lofty njofes fide. Gray. 'TiV true^ "'tis 
 certain^ man thoiigh dead retains part of him- 
 felf Pope. In verfe too, over may be 
 Shortened into oVr, (which is the Scotch, 
 and probably was the old Englifli, pronun- 
 ciation), e'ver into <?Vr, and never into 7ie''er ; 
 and from the and to^ when they go before 
 a word beginning with a vowel, the final let- 
 ter is fometimes cut off. O'er hills^ oer dales ^ 
 oer crags^ o'er rocks they go. Pope. JVhere- 
 eer floe turns, the Graces homage pay. And all 
 that beauty, all tlmt ivealth e'er gave. Rich 
 ivith the fpoils of time did ne'er unroll. Gray. 
 T' alarm tU eternal midnight of the grave. — — . 
 Thefe abbreviations are now peculiar to the 
 poetical tongue, but not neceffary to it. 
 They fometimes promote brevity, and render 
 verfification lefs difficult. 
 
 6. Thofe words which are commonly call- 
 ed compound epithets, as rofy-fngerd, rofy-bo^ 
 fonid, manytvuinkling, many -founding, niofs- 
 groivn, bright-eyed, fravu-built, fpiritflirring^ 
 incenfe-breathing, heaven-taught, love-ivhif- 
 pering, lute-refound'mg, are alfo to be confider- 
 ed as part of our poetical dialecl. It is true 
 we have compounded adjeclives in familiar 
 ufe, as high- f eaf one d, vuell-natured, ill-bred ^ 
 and innumerable others. But I fpeak of thofe 
 that are lefs common, that feldom occur ex- 
 cept in poetry, and of which in profe the 
 ufe would appear alFedled. And that they 
 fometimes promote brevity and vivacity of 
 
 expreifion,
 
 240 
 
 ON POETRY. Part II* 
 
 cxprefTion, cannot be denied. But, as they 
 give, when too frequent, a flifF and finical 
 air to a performance ; as they are not always 
 explicit in the fenfe, nor agreeable in the 
 found ; as they are apt to produce a confu- 
 fion, or too great a multiplicity of images 5 
 as they tend to disfigure the language, and 
 furnifh a pretext for endlefs innovation ; I 
 would have them ufed fparingly ; and thofe 
 only ufed, which the pra^ice of popular au- 
 thors has rendered familiar to the ear, and 
 which are in themfelves peculiarly emphati- 
 cal and harmonious. For. I cannot think, 
 with Dacier and Sanadon, that this well- 
 known verfe in Horace's Art of Poetry, 
 
 Dixeris egregie, notum fi callida verbum 
 Reddiderit junftura novum 
 
 gives any warrant, even to a Latin poet, for 
 the formation of thefe compound words ; 
 which, if I miftake not, were more fafhion- 
 able in the days of Ennius, than of Horace 
 and Virgil *. 
 
 7. In 
 
 * The critics are divided about the meaning of this 
 paflage. Horace is fpeaking of nnu words ; which he 
 allows to be fometimes necclTary j but which, he faysj 
 ought to \>^ fparingly and caiitioh/ly introduced ; In verbis 
 etiam tenuis cavtiifqne ferendis ; and tiien fubjoins the 
 words quoted in the text, Dixeris egregie, &c. 
 
 1 , iSome think, that this callida j/in&ura refers to the 
 
 formation of compound epithetSy as velivolus, faxifragus, 
 
 I foHvagus,
 
 Ch. 1. 2. AND MUSIC. 241 
 
 '^y. In the transformation of nouns into 
 verbs and participles, our poetical dialedl ad- 
 mits 
 
 folivagus, &c. ; and that the Import of the precept is this ' 
 ** Rather than by bringing in a word akogether new, 
 " even when a new word is neceflary, you lliould ex- 
 *' prefs yourfelf by two known words artfully joined lo- 
 " gether into one, fo as to aiTume a new appearance, 
 ** and to admit a new though analogical fignilication." 
 This might no doubt be done with propriety in fome 
 cafes. But I cannot think, that Horace is here fpeak- 
 ing of compounrfi words. — For, firft, this fort of words 
 were much more fuitable to the genius of the Greek than 
 of the Latin tongue ; as Quintilian fomewhere infinuates, 
 and every body knows who is at all acquainted with thefe 
 languages. — Secondly, we find in fact, that thefe words 
 are lefs frequent in Horace and Virgil, than in the older 
 poets ; whence we may infer, that they became lefs fa- 
 fliionable as the Latin tongue advanced nearer to per- 
 fection. — Thirdly, Virgil is known to have introduced 
 three or four new words from the Greek, Lychniy Spehay 
 Thy as, &c. ; but it does not appear, that either Virgil 
 or Horace ever fabricated one of thefe compound words ; 
 and it is not probable, that Horace wovild recommend 
 a practice, which neither himfelf nor Virgil had ever 
 warranted by his example. — Fourthly, our author, in 
 his illuflrations upon the precept in queftion, affirms, 
 that new words will more eaiily obtain currency if taken 
 from the Greek tongue ; and Virgil, if we may judge 
 of his opinions by his practice, appears to have been of 
 the fame mind. And there was good reafon for it. The 
 Greek and Latin are kindred languages ; and as the for- 
 mer was much ftudied at Rome, there was no rifle of 
 introducing any obfcurity into the Roman language by 
 the introduction of a Greek word. — Laftly, it nuy be 
 doubted, whether junBura, though it often denotes the 
 compofiticn of words in a fentence or claufe (Quin- 
 til. ix. 4.), and fometimes arrangeinent or compofuion 
 in general (Hor. Ar. Poet, verfe 242.) — is ever ufrd 
 Vol. IL H h to
 
 24^ 
 
 ON POETRY Part 11. 
 
 inits of greater latitude than profe. Hymn, 
 pillow, curtain, itory, pillar, picture, peal-, 
 
 furge, 
 
 to exprefs the union of fyllables in a word, or of limple 
 words in a compound epithet. 
 
 2. Other interpreters fuppofe, that this callida jtin&u- 
 ra refers to the arrangement of words in the fentence, 
 and that the precept amounts to this : " Vv^hen a ne\T 
 *' expreffion is neceifiu-y, you will acquit yourfelf well,. 
 ** if by means of an artful arrangement you can to a. 
 *' known word giv« a new fignification." But one 
 would think, that the obfervance of this precept mull 
 tend to the utter confufion of language. To give new 
 iignifications to words in prefent ufe, muft increafe the 
 ambiguity of language \ which in every tongue is greater 
 than it ought to be, and which would feem to be more 
 detrimental to eloquence and even to literature, than the 
 introduction of many new words of definite meaning. 
 Thofe who favour this interpretation give coma fylv arum 
 for fol'ia^ as a phrafe to exemplify the precept. But the 
 foliage of a tree is not a new idea, nor could there be 
 any need of a new word or new phrafe to exprefs it : 
 though a poet, no doubt, on account of his verfe, or 
 on fome other account, might chufe to exprefs it by a 
 ■figure^ rather than by its proper name. Coma: fylvarunt 
 for folia, is neither lefs nor more than a metaphor, or,, 
 if you pleafe, a catachrelis ; but Horace, is fpea|iing, not 
 of figurative language, but of new words, — Both thefe 
 interpretations fuppofe, that the words of our poet are 
 to be conftrued according to this order : Dixeris egregie, 
 li callida junclura reddiderit notinn vcrhivi novinn. 
 
 3. The beil of ail our poet's interpreters, the learned 
 Dr Hurd, conftrues the pafllige in the fame manner, 
 and explains it thus: ** Inilead of framing new words, 
 ** I recommend to you any kind of artful management, 
 ** by which you may be able to give a new air and calf 
 *' to old ones." And this explication he illuftrates molt 
 ingenionily by a variety of examples, that throw great 
 light on the llibjedt of poetical diction. See his notes 
 on the Jrs Pocticn. 
 
 I
 
 Ch. I. 2. AND MUSIC. 
 
 243 
 
 furge, cavern, honey, career, cindure, bo- 
 fom, fphere, are common nouns; but, to 
 hymn^ to pilloTv^ curtained^ pillared^ picluredy 
 pealing^ Jiirging, ca'vernd^ hviied^ careering^ 
 cinciured^ bojomed, fphered, would appear af- 
 fe(5led in profe, though in verfe they are 
 warranted by the very beft authority. 
 
 Some late poets, particularly the imitators 
 of Spenfer, have introduced a great variety 
 of uncommon words, as certes, eftfoons, ne, 
 whilom, tranfmew, moil, fone, lofel, albe, 
 hight, dight, pight, thews, couthful, allot, 
 
 I fhould ill confult my own credit, if I were to op- 
 pofe my judgement to that of tliis able critic and ex- 
 cellent author. Yet I would beg leave to fay, that to me 
 the poet feems, through this whole paffage, from verf. 46. 
 to verr. 72. to be fpeaking of xhc formation of new luonis ; 
 a practice whereof he allows the danger, but proves the 
 neceffity. And I find I cannot diveft myfelf of an old 
 prejudice in favour of another interpretation, which is 
 more obvious and-fimple, and which I confidered as the 
 beft, long before I knew it was authorifed by that judi- 
 cious annotator Joannes Bond, and by Dryden in his 
 notes upon the Eneld, as well as by the Abbe Batteux 
 in his commentary on Horace's art of poetry. " New 
 ** words (fays the poet) are to be cautioully and fparingly 
 '* introduced ; but, when necelTary, an author will do 
 " well to give them fuch a pofition in the fentence, as 
 ** that the reader fhall be at no lofs to difcover their 
 " meaning." For 1 would conftrue the pa{rage thus, 
 Dixeris egregie, fl callida juncStura reddidei'it novum vcr~ 
 bum notuvi. But why, it may be faid, did not Horace, 
 if this was really his me?.ning, put novum in the liril 
 line, and notinn in the fecond ? The anfwer is eafy His 
 verfe woidd not admit that order : for' the firft fyllable 
 of novum is fliort, and the firft fyll.ihle ol not urn long. 
 
 H h 2 muchcl,.
 
 244 
 
 ON POETRY Part II. 
 
 muchel, wend arrear, &c. Thefe were once 
 poetical words, no doubt ; but they are now 
 obfolete, and to many readers unintelligible. 
 No man of the prefent age, however conver- 
 fant in this dialeifl, would naturally exprefs 
 himfelf in it on any interefling emergence ; 
 or, fuppofing this natural to the antiquarian, 
 it would never appear lo to the common 
 hearer or reader. A mixture of thefe words, 
 therefore, mud ruin the pathos of modern 
 language ; and as they are not fiimiliar to 
 our ear, and plainly appear to be fought af- 
 ter and aflFecfled, will generally give a fliff- 
 nefs to modern verification. Yet in fubjedls 
 approaching to the ludicrous they may have 
 a good effecfl ; as in the Schoolm'ijirefs of Shen- 
 flone, Parnel's Fairy-tale, Thomfon's Caftle 
 of Indolence, and Pope's lines in the Dun- 
 ciad upon Wormius. But this effecl will 
 be moft plcafmg to thofe who have lead oc- 
 cafion to recur to the gloffary. 
 
 But why, it may be afked, fhould thefe 
 old words be more pathetic and pleafing in 
 8penfer, than in his imitators ? I anfwer, 
 Becaufe in him they feem, or we believe them 
 to be, natural ; in them we are fure that they 
 are aifected. In him there is an eafe and u- 
 niformity of expreflion, that fhows he wrote 
 a language not materially different from what 
 was written by all the ferious poets of his 
 time ; whereas the mixed dialecl of thefe i- 
 mitators is plainly artificial, and fuch as 
 would make any man ridiculous, if he were 
 
 now
 
 Ch. 1. 2. AND MUSIC. 245 
 
 now to adopt it in converfation. A long 
 beard may give dignity to the portrait, or 
 ftatue of a hero, whom we know to have been 
 two hundred years in his grave : but the 
 chin of a modern European commander 
 briflUng with that antique appendage, would 
 appear awkward and ridiculous. — But did 
 not Spenfer himfelf make ufe of words that 
 are known to have been tDbfolete, or merely 
 provincial, in his time ? Yes ; and thofe 
 words in Spenfer have the fame bad effeifl, 
 that words now obfolete have in his imi- 
 tators ; they are to moft readers unintel-" 
 ligible, and to thofe who underfiand them 
 appear ludicrous or afFecled. Some of his 
 Eclogues, and even fome pailages in the 
 Fairy Qiieen, are liable to this cenfure. — 
 But what if Spenfer had fixed the poetical 
 language of England, as Elomer did that of 
 Greece ? Would any of his old words in 
 that cafe have appeared awkward in a mo- 
 dern poem ? Perhaps they would not : but 
 let it be obferved, that, in that cafe, they 
 would have been adopted by Milton, and 
 Dryden, and Pope, and by all our ferious 
 poets fince the age of Elif ibetli ; and would 
 therefore have been perfectly intelligible to 
 every reader of Englilli verfe ; and, from 
 our having been fo long accuilomed to meet 
 with them in the mod elegant compoiitions, 
 would have acquired a dignity equal, or 
 periiaps fuperior, to that v/hich now belongs 
 
 to
 
 246 ONPOETRY Part II. 
 
 to the poetical language of Pope and MiN 
 
 ton. 
 
 I grant, it is not always eafy to fix the 
 boundary between poetical and obfolete ex- 
 preilions. To many readers, lore^ meed^ be- 
 he/i^ blithe, gaiide, Jpray, thrall, may already 
 appear antiquated ; and to fome the flyle of 
 Spenfer, or even of Chaucer, may be as in- 
 telligible as that of Dryden. This however 
 we may venture to affirm, that a word, 
 which the majority of readers cannot un- 
 derftand without a gloiTary, may with rea- 
 fon be confidered as obfolete ; and ought not 
 to be ufed in modern compofition, unlefs 
 revived, and recommended to the public 
 ear, by fome very eminent writer. There 
 are but few^ words in Milton, as nathlefs, thie^ 
 frore, bol\y, &c. ; there are but one or two 
 in Dryden, as falfify * ; and in Pope, there 
 are nonp at all, which every reader of our 
 poetry may not be fuppofed to underftand : 
 w^hereas in Shakefpeare there are many, and 
 in Spenfer many more, for which one who 
 knows Englilh very well may be obliged , to 
 confalt the didlionary. The pradlice of Mil- 
 ton, Dryden, or Pope, may therefore, in al- 
 moin ail cafes, be admitted as good authori- 
 
 * Dryden in one place (Eneid ix. verf. 1095) ufes 
 FaJjiJied to denote Pierced through and through. He ac- 
 knowledges, that this ufe of the word is an innovation ; 
 and has nothing to plead for it but his own authority, 
 and that Faljare in Italian fometimes means the fame 
 thing.
 
 Ch. 1. 2. AND MUSIC. 247 
 
 ty for the ufe of a poetical word. And in 
 them, all the words above enumerated, as 
 poetical, and in prefent ufe, may actually 
 be found. And of fuch poets as may chufe 
 to obferve this rule, it will not be faid, either 
 that they reje(fl the judgement of Quintilian, 
 who recommends the neweft of the old words, 
 and the oldeft of the new, or that they are 
 vmattentive to Pope's precept. 
 
 Be not the firft by whom the new are tried. 
 Nor yet the lafl to lay the old afide *. 
 
 We muft not fuppofe, that thefe poetical 
 words never occur at all, except in poetry. 
 Even from converfation they are not ex- 
 cluded ; and the ancient critics allow, that 
 they may be admitted into profe ; where 
 they occafionally confer dignity upon a fub- 
 lime fubjedl, or, for reafons elfewhere hint- 
 ed at f, heighten the ludicrous qualities of 
 a mean one. But it is in poetry only, where 
 the frequent ufe of them does not favour of 
 affediation. 
 
 Nor muft we fuppofe them elTential to this 
 art. Many pafTages there are of exquiGte 
 poetry, wherein not a fingle phrafe occurs, 
 that might not be ufed in profe. In fa6t 
 the influence of thefe words in adorning En- 
 glifh verfe is not very extenfive. Some in- 
 
 * EfTay on Criticifm, vcrf. 335. 
 
 t Eflay on Laughter, chap. 2. fe^V. 4. 
 
 fluenc(
 
 ^4^ ONPOETRY Part It. 
 
 fluence however they have. They ferve to 
 render the poetical ftyle, firft, more melo- 
 dious ; and, fecondly, more folemn. 
 
 Firft, They render the poetical ftyle more 
 melodious, and more eafily reducible into 
 meafure. Words of unwieldy iize, or diffi- 
 cult pronunciation, are never ufed by correal 
 poets, where they can be avoided ; unlefs iri 
 their found they have fomething imitative of 
 the fenfe. Homer's poetical infle6lions con- 
 tribute wonderfully to the fweetnefs of his 
 numbers : and if the reader is pleafed to 
 look back to the fpecimen I gave of the En- 
 glifh poetical dialect, he will find that the 
 words are in general well-founding, and fuch 
 as may coalefce with other words, without 
 producing harlh combinations. Quintilian 
 obferves, that poets, for the fake of their 
 verfe, are indulged in many liberties, not 
 granted to the orator, of lengthening, fliorten- 
 ing, and dividing their words * : — and if 
 the Greek and Roman poets claimxcd this in- 
 dulgence from neceffity, and obtained it^ 
 the Englilh, thofe of them efpecially who 
 write in rhime, may claim it with better 
 reafon ; as the words ot their language are 
 lefs mufical, and far lefs fufceptible of va- 
 riety in arrangement and fyntax. 
 
 Secondly, Such poetical words as are 
 known to be ancient have fomething vene- 
 rable in their appearance, and imp.ut a fo-* 
 
 * Inftit. Orat. lib. lo. cap. i. § 3. 
 
 2 lemnity
 
 Ch. 1. 2. AND MUSIC. 249 
 
 lemnity to all around them. This remark 
 is from Quintilian ; who adds, that they 
 give to a compoiition that cafl and colour of 
 antiquity, which in painting is fo highly 
 valued, but which art can never effedlually 
 imitate *. Poetical words that are either 
 not ancient, or not known to be fuch, have 
 however a pleaiing effecSl from afTociation. 
 We are accuflomed to meet with them in 
 fublime and elegant writing ; and hence they 
 come to acquire fublimity and elegance : •— 
 even as the words we hear on familiar oc- 
 calions come to be accounted familiar ; and 
 as thofe that take their rife among pick- 
 pockets, gamblers, and gypijes, are thought 
 too indelicate to be ufed by any perfon of 
 taile or good manners. When one hears 
 the following lines, which abound in poeti- 
 cal words, 
 
 The breezy call of incenfe-breathing morn, 
 The fwallow twittering from the flraw-buik fhed, 
 The cock's fhrill clarion, or the echoing horn, r 
 J^o more lliall roufe them from their lowly bed : 
 
 — one is as fenfible of the dignity of the 
 language ; as one would be of the vilenefs 
 or v\,ilgarity of that man's fpeech, wiio 
 Ihould prove his acquaintance with Bride- 
 well, by interlarding his difcourfe with fuch 
 
 * Lib. 8. cap'. 3. § 3. 
 
 Vol. II, I i terms
 
 250 ONPOETRY Part 11, 
 
 terms as mill-doll, queer cull, or nubbing cheat "^ ; 
 or who, in imitation of fops and gamblers, 
 iliould, on the common occafions of life, talk 
 of being beat hollo'Wy or fa<vtng his dijlance f. 
 — What gives dignity to perfons gives dig- 
 nity to language. A man of this characfler 
 is one who has borne important employ- 
 ments, been connected with honourable afTo- 
 ciates, and never degraded hunfelf by levity, 
 or immorality of condudl. Dignified phrafes 
 are thofe which have been ufed to exprefs 
 elevated fentiments, have always made their 
 appearance in elegant compofition, and have 
 never been profaned by giving permanency 
 or utterance to the paflions of the vile, the 
 giddy, or the worthlefs. And as by an acflive 
 old age, the dignity of fuch men is confirmed 
 and heightened ; fo the dignity of fuch words, 
 if they be not fufFered to fall into difufe, fel- 
 dom fails to improve by length of time. 
 
 * See the Scoundrel's Di^lionary. 
 •|- Language of Newmarket. 
 
 SECT,
 
 Ch. 1.3. AND MUSIC. 251 
 
 SECT. III. 
 
 Natural Language is improved in poetry^ by 
 means of Tropes and Figures, 
 
 QO much for the nature and ufe of thofe 
 ^ words that are poetical^ and yet not figu- 
 rative. But from Figurative ExpreJJion there 
 arifes a more copious and important fource 
 of Poetic Eloquence. Some forts of poetry 
 are diftinguillied by the beauty, boldnefs, 
 and frequency of the Figures, as well as by 
 the meafure, or by any of the contrivances 
 above mentioned. And in profe we often 
 meet with fuch figures and words, as we ex- 
 pe6l only in poetry ; in which cafe the lan- 
 guage is called Poetical: and in verfe we 
 fometimes find a diction fo tame, and fo void 
 of ornament, that we brand it with the ap- 
 pellation of Profaic. 
 
 As my defign in this difcourfe is, not to 
 deliver a fyflem of rhetoric, but to explain 
 the peculiar effedls of poetry tipon the mind, 
 by tracing out the chara6lers that diflinguifli 
 this from other literary arts ; it would be 
 improper to enter here, with any degree of 
 minutenefs, into the philofophy of Tropes 
 and Figures : thefe being ornamental, not to 
 poetry only, but to human fpeech in general. 
 I i 2 All
 
 i^z O N P O E T R Y Part II. 
 
 All that the prefent occafion requires will be 
 performed, when it is lliown, in what re- 
 i'pects tropical and figurative language is 
 more neceflary to poetry than to any other 
 fort of compoiition. 
 
 If it appear, that, by means of Figures, 
 Language may be made more pleaftng^ and 
 more natural^ than it would be without them; 
 it will follow, that to Poetic Language, whofe 
 end is to pleafe by imitating nature. Figures 
 mufl be not only ornamental, but neceffary. 
 I fliall therefore, firft, make a few remarks 
 on the importance and utility of figurative 
 language ; fecondly, Ihow, that Figures are 
 more neceflary to poetry in general, than to 
 any other mode of writing ; and, thirdly, 
 afTign a reafon why they are more neceffary 
 in Ibme kinds of poetry than in others. 
 
 L I purpofe to make a few remarks on the 
 importance and utility of Figurative Expref^ 
 fion, in making language more pleafing and 
 more natural. 
 
 I. The firfl: remark is, that Tropes and 
 Figures are often neceflary to fupply the 
 unavoidable defetSls of language. When 
 proper words are wanting, or not recoUedled, 
 or when we do not cluiie to be always re- 
 peating them, we mufl have recourfe to 
 tropes and figures. — When philofophers be- 
 gan to explain the operations of the mind, 
 they found, that moll of the words in com- 
 mon ufe, being framed to anfwer the more 
 obvious exigencies of life, were in their pro^ 
 
 per
 
 Ch. I. 3. A N D M U S I C. 25:5 
 
 per fignification applicable to matter only 
 and its qualities. What was to be done in 
 this cafe ? Would they think of making a 
 new language to exprefs the qualities of mind? 
 No : that would have been difficult, or im- 
 pradlicable ; and granting it both pradlicable 
 and eafy, they mud have forefeen, that no- 
 body would read or liften to what was thus 
 fpoken or written in a new, and, confequent- 
 ly, in an unknown, tongue. They there- 
 fore took the language as they found it ; 
 and, where-ever they thought there was a 
 fimilarity or analogy between the qualities of 
 mind and the qualities of matter, fcrupled 
 not to ufe the names of the material quali- 
 ties tropically, by applying them to the 
 mental qualities. Hence came the phrafes, 
 folidity of judgement, ivarmth of imagination, 
 enlargement of underflanding, and many o~ 
 thers ; which, though figurative, exprefs the 
 meaning juft as well as proper words would 
 have done. In fa 61, numerous as the words 
 in every language are, they muft always fall 
 fhort of the unbounded variety of human 
 thoughts and perceptions. Taftes and finells 
 are almoft as numerous as the fpecies of bo- 
 dies. Sounds admit of perceptible varieties 
 that furpafs all computation, and the feveu 
 primary colours may be diverfified without 
 end. If each variety of external perception 
 were to have a name, language would be 
 infurmountably difficult ; nay, if men were 
 to appropriate a clafs of names to each par- 
 ticular
 
 454 ONPOETRY Part It. 
 
 ticular feiife, they would multiply words ex- 
 ceedingly, without adding any thing to the 
 clearnefs of fpeech. Thofe words, there- 
 fore, that in their proper lignification de- 
 note the objedls of one fenfe, they often ap- 
 ply tropically to the objedls of another ; and 
 fay, fweet tafle, fweet fmell, fvveet found; 
 iharp point, iliarp tafle, fliarp found ; har- 
 mony of founds, harmony of colours, har- 
 mony of parts ; foft iilk, foft colour, foft 
 found, foft temper ; and fo in a thoufand 
 inftances ; and yet thefe words, in their tro- 
 pical fignification, are not lefs inteUigible 
 than in their proper one ; for fliarp tafte and 
 iharp found, are as expreiTive as fliarp fword ; 
 and harmony of tones is not better under- 
 flood by the naufician, than harmony of 
 parts by the architecl, and harmony of co- 
 lours by the painter. 
 
 Savages, illiterate perfons, and children , 
 have comparatively but few words in pro- 
 portion to the things they may have occa- 
 lion to fpeak of; and muil therefore recur 
 to tropes and figures more frequently, than 
 perfons of copious elocution. A feaman, or 
 mechanic, even when he talks of that which 
 does not belong to his art, borrows his lan- 
 guage from that which does ; and this makes 
 his didlion figurative to a degree that is fome- 
 times entertaining enough. " Death (fays a 
 *' feaman in one of Smoliet's novels) has 
 " not yet boarded my comrade ; but they 
 " have been yard arm and yard arm thefe 
 
 '* three
 
 (( 
 
 Ch. L 3. AND MUSIC. 2S5 
 
 ** three glajfss. His Jiarhoard eye is open, 
 ** but fafl jamrnd in his head ; and the 
 haulyards of his under jaw have given 
 way." Thefe phrafes are exaggerated ; 
 but we allow them to be natural, becauie 
 we know that illiterate people are apt to make 
 ufe of tropes and figures taken from their 
 own trade, even when they fpeak of things 
 that are very remote and incongruous. In 
 thofe poems, therefore, that imitate the con- 
 verfation of illiterate perfons, as in comedy, 
 farce, and paftoral, fuch figures judicioufiy 
 applied may render the imitation more plea- 
 ling, becaufe more exa(5l and natural. 
 
 Words that are untuneable and harfh the 
 poet is often obliged to avoid, when perhaps 
 he has no other way to exprefs their mean- 
 ing than by tropes and figures ; and fome- 
 times the meafure of his verfe may oblige him. 
 to rejedl a proper word that is not harlh, 
 merely on account of its being too long, or 
 too fhort, or in any other way unfuitable to 
 the rhythm, or to the rhime. And hence 
 another ufe of figurative language, that it 
 contributes to poetical harmony. Thus, t9 
 frefs the -plain is frequently ufecl to fi.gnify to 
 be Jlain in battle ; liquid plain is '^xxX. for ocean^ 
 blue ferene for J}.j^ 2.ndjj'lvan reign for country 
 life. 
 
 1. Tropes and Figures are favourable to 
 delicacy. When the proper name of a thing 
 is in any refpedl unple:^fant, a weihchofen 
 trope will convey the idea in fuch a way as 
 
 to
 
 -56 ON POETRY Part II, 
 
 to give no offence. This is agreeable, arid 
 even neceilary, in polite converfation, and 
 cannot be difpenfed with in elegant writing 
 of any kind. Many words, from their be- 
 ing often applied to vulgar ufe, acquire a 
 meannefs that difqualifies them for a place 
 in ferious poetry ; while perhaps, under 
 the influence of a different fyftem of man- 
 ners, the correfponding words in another 
 language may be elegant, or at leafl not vul- 
 gar. When one reads Homer in the Greek, 
 one takes no offence at his calling Eumeus 
 by a name which, literally rendered, figni- 
 fies Suuine-herd ; firft, becaufe the Greek 
 word is well- founding in itfelf ; fecondly, 
 becaufe we have never heard it pronounced 
 in converfation, nor confequently debafed by 
 vulgar ufe ; and, thirdly, becaufe we know, 
 that the office denoted by it was, in the age 
 of Eumeus, both important and honourable. 
 But Pope would have been blamed, if a name 
 fo indelicate as Jh.v'ine-herd had in his tranf- 
 lation been applied to fo eminent a perfon- 
 age ; and therefore he judicioufly makes ufe 
 of the Xio'^t fynecdocbe, and calls him Sivain^ ; 
 a word both elegant and poetical, and not 
 likely to lead the reader into any miftake a- 
 bout the perfon fpoken of, as his employ- 
 ment had been defcribed in a preceding 
 paffage. The fame Eumeus is faid, in the 
 iimple, but melodious language of the ori- 
 
 * Pope's Homer's OdyiTev, book 14. verf. 41, 
 I ginaU
 
 Ch. 1. 3. AND MUSIC. 257 
 
 ginal, to have been making his own flioes 
 when UlyfTes came to his door j a work 
 which in thofe days the greateft heroes would 
 often find necellliry. This too the tranflator 
 lofiens by a tropical expreffion : 
 
 Here fat Eumeus, and his cares applied 
 
 To form ftrong bujkins of well-feafon'd hide. 
 
 A hundred other examples might be quoted 
 from this tranflation ; but thele will explain 
 my meaning. 
 
 There are other occafions, on which the 
 delicacy of figurative language is ftill more 
 needful : as in Virgil's account of the ef- 
 fects of animal love, and of the plague a- 
 mong the beafts, in the third Georgic ; where 
 Dryden's ftyle, by being lefs figurative than 
 the original, is in one place exceedingly fil- 
 thy, and in another iliockingly obfcene. 
 
 Hobbes could conftrue a Greek author; 
 but his flvill in words muft have been all de- 
 rived from the dictionary : for he feems 
 not to have known, that any one articulate 
 found could be more agreeable, or any one 
 phrafe more dignified, than any other. \w 
 his Iliad and OdylTey, even when he hits 
 the author's fenfe, (which is not always the 
 cafe), he proves, by his choice of words, that 
 of harmony, elegance, or energy of ftyle, he 
 had no manner of conception. And hence 
 that work, tho' called a Tranflation of Ho- 
 mer, does not even deferve the name 
 
 Vol. II. 11 k '^ocm 

 
 258 O N P O E T R Y Part IL 
 
 poem ; becaufe it is in every refpei^ unplea^ 
 
 Jing^ being nothing more than a fidlitious 
 
 narrative deUvered in mean profe, with the 
 
 additional meannefs of harlli rhyme, and 
 
 untuneable meafure. Trapp underftood 
 
 Virgil well enough as a grammarian, and 
 had a tail:e for his beauties ; yet his Tranf- 
 lation bears no refemblance to Virgil ; which 
 is owing to the fame caufe, an imprudent 
 choice of words and figures, and a total want 
 of harmony. 
 
 I grant, that the delicacy we here contend 
 for mav, both in converfation and in wri- 
 ting, be carried too far. To call killing an 
 innocent man in a duel an affair of honour, 
 and a 'violation of the rights of 'zvedlock an af- 
 fair of gallantry, is a proftitution of figu- 
 rative language. Nor do I think it any cre- 
 dit to us, that we are faid to have upwards 
 of forty figurative phrafes to denote excef-, 
 five drinking. Language of this fort gene- 
 rally implies, that the public abhorrence of 
 fuch crimes is not fo ffcrong as it ought to 
 be : and I am not certain, whether even our 
 morals might not be improved, if we were 
 to call thefe and fuch like crimes by their 
 proper names, murder, adultery, drunken- 
 neis, gluttony ; names, that not only ex- 
 prefs our meaning, but alfo betoken our dif^ 
 
 approbation. As to writing, it cannot be 
 
 denied, that even Pope himfclf, in the ex- 
 cellent verfion jufl now quoted, has fome- 
 times, for the fake of his numbers, or for 
 
 fear
 
 dh. I. 3. AND MUSI C. 259 
 
 fear of giving offence by too clofe an imita- 
 tion of Homer's fimplicity, employed tropes 
 and figures too quaint or too folemn for the 
 occafion. And the finical ftyle is in part 
 chara6lerifed by the writer's diflike to lite- 
 ral expreffions, and affecfledly fubllituting in 
 their flead unneceffary tropes and figures. 
 With thefe authors, a man's only child mufb 
 always be his only hope^ a country-maid be- 
 comes a rural beauty ^ or perhaps a nymph of 
 the groves ; if flattery fing at all, it mult be 
 a fyren Jong ; the fhepherd's flute dwindles 
 into an oaten reed^ and his crook is exalted 
 into a fcepter ; the filver liUies rife from their 
 golden bedsy and languijlj to the complaining 
 gale. A young woman, though a good Chri- 
 ftian, cannot make herfelf agreeable without 
 facrificing to the Graces ; nor hope to do any 
 execution among the gentle fuoains^ till a 
 whole legion of Cupids^ armed with jlames 
 and darts^ and other weapons, begin to 
 difcharge from her eyes their formidable ar- 
 tillery. For the fake of variety, or of the 
 verfe, fome of thefe figures may now and 
 then find a place in a poem ; but in profe, 
 unlefs very fparingly ufed, they favovir of 
 aiFe6tation. 
 
 3. Tropes a.nd Figures promote brevity j 
 and brevity, united with perfpicuity, is al- 
 ways agreeable. An example or two will 
 be given in the next paragraph. Sentiments 
 thus delivered, and imagery thus painted, 
 are readily apprehended by the mind, make 
 K k 2 a
 
 26o O N P O E T R Y Part IL 
 
 a flrong imprclTion upon the fancy, and 
 remain long in the memory : whereas too 
 many words, even when the meaning is 
 good, never fail to bring difguil and weari- 
 iiefs. They argue a debility of mind which 
 hinders the author from feeing his thoughts 
 in one diflindl point of view ; and they alfo 
 encourage a fufpicion, that there is fomething 
 faulty or defective in the matter. In the 
 poetic ilyle, therefore, which is addrefTed to 
 the fancy and paffions, and intended to make 
 a vivid, a pjeafing, and a permanent im- 
 preffion, brevity, and confequeiitly tropes and 
 figures, are indifpenfable. And a language 
 will always be the better fuited to poetical 
 purpofes, the more it admits of this brevity ; 
 — a charadter which is more confpicuous in 
 the Greek and Latin than in any modern 
 tongue, and much lefs in the French than in 
 the Italian or Englifh. 
 
 4. Tropes and Figures contribute to ftrength 
 or energy of language, not only by their 
 concifenefs, but alfo by conveying to the 
 fancy ideas that are eafily comprehended, 
 and make a flrong impreflion. We are 
 powerfully affected with what we fee, or feel, 
 or hear. \Vhen a fentiment comes enforced 
 or illuflrated by figures taken from objeds 
 of fight, or touch, or hearing, one thinks, 
 as it were, that one fees, or feels, or hears, 
 the thing fpoken of; and thus, what in it- 
 felf would perhaps be obfcure, or is merely 
 intelle(5lual, may be made to feize our at- 
 tention
 
 Ch. 1. 3. AND MUSIC. ^6i 
 
 tention and interefl our paflions almoft as 
 effe(5lually as if it were an obje6l of oucward 
 fenfe. When Virgil calls the Scipios thunder- 
 bolts of ivar, he very flrongly expreffes in 
 one word, and by one image, the rapidity 
 of their vidlories, the noife their atchieve- 
 ments made in the world, and the ruin and 
 confternation that attended their irreliftible 
 
 career. When Homer calls Ajax the bul- 
 
 ivark of the Greeks, he paints with equal 
 brevity his vaft fize and flrength, the diffi- 
 culty of prevailing againft him, and the con- 
 fidence wherewith his countrymen repofed 
 
 on his valour. When Solomon fays of the 
 
 ftrange woman, or harlot, that " her feet go 
 *' doijun to death," he lets us know, not only 
 that her path ends in deflrudlion, but alfo, 
 that they who accompany her will find it eafy 
 to go forwards to ruin, and difficult to re- 
 turn to their duty. Satan's enormous 
 
 magnitude, and refulgent appearance, his 
 perpendicular afcent through a region of 
 darknefs, and the inconceivable rapidity of 
 his motion, are all painted out to our fancy 
 by Milton, in one very fhort fimilitude. 
 
 Sprung upward, like — a pyramid of fire * : 
 
 To take in the full meaning of which figure, 
 we muil imagine ourfelves in chaos, and a 
 vaft luminous body rifing upward, near the 
 
 * Par. Loft, book a. verf. 1013. 
 
 place
 
 202 
 
 ON POETRY Part ttl 
 
 place where we are, fo fwiftly as to appear 
 a continued track of light, and lefTening to 
 the view according to the increafe of di- 
 ftance, till it end in a point, and then difap- 
 pear ; and all this mull be fuppofed to ftrike 
 
 our eye at one inflant. Equal to this in 
 
 propriety, though not in magnificence, is 
 that allegory of Gray, 
 
 The patbs of glory lead but to the grave : 
 
 Which prefents to the imagination a wide 
 plain, where feveral roads appear, crouded 
 with glittering multitudes, and iOliing from 
 diffe'rent quarters, but drawing nearer and 
 nearer as they advance, till they terminate 
 in the dark and narrow houfe, where all 
 their glories enter in fucceflion, and difap- 
 
 pear for ever. V/hen it is faid in fcrip- 
 
 ture, of a good man who died, that he 
 Jell a/Ieep, what a number of ideas are at 
 once conveyed to our imagination, by this 
 beautiful and expreflive figure ! As a la- 
 bourer, at the clofe of day, goes to fleep, 
 with the fatisfa(5lion of having performed 
 his work, and with the agreeable hope of a- 
 waking in the morning of a new day, re- 
 frefhed and chearful ; lb a good man, at the 
 end of life, refigns himfelf calm and con- 
 tented to the will of his Maker, with the 
 fweec reflection of having endeavoured to do 
 his duty, and with the tranfporting hope of 
 foon awaking in the regions of light, to life 
 
 and
 
 Ch. 1. 3. AND MUSIC. 263 
 
 and happlnefs eternal. The figure alfo fug- 
 gefts, that to a good man the tranfitlon from 
 life to death is even in the fenfition no more 
 painful, than when our faculties melt away 
 
 into the pleafing infenfibility of lleep. 
 
 Satan flying among the ftars is faid by Milton 
 to ^^ Sail between worlds and worlds;" which 
 has an elegance and force far fuperior to the 
 proper word Fly. For by this allufion to a 
 fhip, we are made to form a lively idea of 
 his great fize, and to conceive of his mo- 
 tion, that it was equable and majeftic. 
 
 Virgil ufes a happy figure to exprefs the fize 
 of the great wooden horfe, by means of 
 which the Greeks were conveyed into Troy : 
 
 " Equum divina Palladis arte ^dijicantr 
 
 Milton is Hill bolder when he fays, 
 
 Who would not fing for Lycidas ? he knew 
 Himfelf to fmg, and build the lofty rhiiue *. 
 
 The phrafe, however, though bold, is em- 
 phatical ; and gives a noble idea of the du- 
 rability of poetry, as well as of the art and 
 
 * In the Latin phrafe Condere carmen^ which Milton 
 no doubt had in his view, the verb is of more general 
 iignification, than the Englilh verb to build y and there- 
 fore the figure is bolder in Englifli than Latin. It may 
 even be doubted, whether Condere carmen be at all fi- 
 gurative ; for Condere is refolved by R. Stephanus into 
 Simul dare. Condere carmen., condere poema^ condere hijlo" 
 riam, occur in Cicero and Pliny ; but INlikon's phrafe 
 is much too daring for Englilh profe. 
 
 attention
 
 a64 ON POETRY Part II: 
 
 attention requifite to form a good poem. 
 
 There are hundreds of tropical exprefTions in 
 common ufe, incomparably more energetic 
 than any proper words of equal brevity that 
 could be put in their place. A cheek burn" 
 ing with blufties, is a trope which at once 
 defcribes the colour as it appears to the be- 
 holder, and the glowing heat as it is felt by 
 the perfon blulhing. Chilled with defpon- 
 dence, petrefied with aftonifliment, thiinder- 
 Jlruck with difagreeable and unexpe6ted in- 
 telligence, 77ielted with love or pity, dijjol'ued^ 
 in luxury, hardened in wickednefs, foftening 
 into remorfe, inflamed with delire, tojfed with 
 imcertainty, 8cc. — every one is fenfible of 
 the force of thefe and the like phrafes, and 
 that they mud contribute to the energy of 
 compolition. 
 
 5. Tropes and Figures promote (Irength of 
 exprefTion, and are in poetry peculiarly re- 
 quifite, becaufe they are often more naturaly-* 
 and more imitative^ than proper words. In " 
 fad:, this is fo much the cafe, that it would 
 be impoflible to imitate the language of paf- 
 fion without them. It is true, that when 
 the mind is agitated, one does not run out 
 into allegories, or long-winded fimilitudes,^ 
 or any of the figures that require much at- 
 tention and many words, or that tend to 
 withdraw the fancy from the objed: of the 
 pafiion. Yet the language of many pafiions 
 niufl be figurative, notwithflanding ; be-^ 
 caufe they rcmfe the fancy, and dired it to 
 ? objeds
 
 Ch. L 3. AND MUSIC. 265 
 
 obje(5ls congenial to their own nature, which 
 diveriify the language of the Ipeaker with a 
 multitude of allufions. The fancy of a very 
 angry man, for example, prefents to his view 
 a train of difagreeable ideas connected with 
 the paffion of anger, and tending to encou- 
 rage it; and if he fpeak without reffcraint 
 during the paroxyfm of his rage, thofe ideas 
 will force themfelves upon him, and com- 
 pel him to give them utterance. *' Infernal 
 *' monfter ! (he will fay) — my blood boils 
 *' at him ; he has vifed me like a dog ; ne- 
 " ver was man fo injured as I have been by 
 '* this barbarian. He has no more fenJTe 
 " of propriety than a flone. His counte- 
 " nance is diabolical, and his foul as ugly 
 *' as his countenance. His heart is cold and 
 *' hard, and his refolutions dark and bloody,'* 
 &c. This fpeech is wholly figurative. It is 
 made up of metaphors and hyperboles^ which, 
 with the profopopeia and apojlrophe^ are the 
 
 mod paflionate of all the figures. Lear, 
 
 driven out of doors by his unnatural daugh- 
 ters, in the midft of darknefs, thunder, and 
 tempefl, naturally breaks forth (for his in- 
 dignation is juft now raifed to the very high- 
 eft pitch) into the following violent exclama- 
 tion againft the crimes of mankind, in which 
 almoft every word is figurative* 
 
 Tremble thou wretch. 
 That haft within thee undivulged crimes 
 Unwhipt of juftice. Hide thee, thou bloody handy 
 Vol. 11. L I thoii
 
 266 O N P O E T R Y Part II. 
 
 Thou perjured, and thou fimilar of virtue, 
 That art inceftuous. Caitiff, to pieces fliake. 
 That under covert, and convenient ieeming. 
 Haft praclifed on man*s life. Clofe pent-up guilts,-- 
 Rive your concealing continents, and cry 
 Thefe dreadful fummoners grace. 
 
 The vehemence of maternal love, and 
 
 forrow from the apprehenfion of lofing her 
 diilcl, make the Lady ConClance utter a lan- 
 guage that is ftrongly figurative, tho' quite 
 iuitable to the condition and character of the 
 fpeaker. The pafTage is too long for a quo- 
 tation, but concludes thus : 
 
 O Lord ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair fon, 
 My life, my joy, my food, my all the world. 
 My widovi'-comfort, and my forrow*s cure *■. 
 
 Similar to this, and equally exprefHve 
 
 of conjugal love, is that beautiful hyperbole 
 in Homer ; where Andromache, to diffuade 
 her huiband from goiog out to the battle, 
 tells him, that flie had now no mother, fa- 
 ther, or brethren, all her kindred being dead, 
 and her native country defolate ; and then 
 tenderly adds, 
 
 But while my Hedor yet furvives, I fee 
 My father, mother, brethren, ail in thee f . 
 
 * King John. 
 •f, Yih-dy book 6. 
 
 As
 
 Gh. I. 3. AND MUSIC. 267 
 
 As the paflions that agitate the foul, and 
 roufe the fancy, are apt to vent themfelves 
 in tropes and figures, fo thofe that deprefs 
 the mind adopt for the moft part a plain 
 didlion w^ithout any ornament. For to a de- 
 je(fled mind, wherein the imagination is ge- 
 nerally inacftive, it is not probable, that any 
 great variety of ideas will prefent themfelves ; 
 and when thefe are few and familiar, the 
 words that exprefs them mud be Umple. 
 As no author equals Shakefpeare in boldnefs 
 or variety of figures, when he copies the 
 ftyle of thofe violent paflions that flimulate 
 the fancy ; fo, when he would exhibit the 
 human mind in a dejecfled ftate, no unin- 
 fpired writer excels him in fimplicity. The 
 fame Lear whofe refentment had impaired his 
 underftanding, while it broke out in the mofh 
 boifterous language, when, after fome me- 
 dical applications, he recovers his reafon, 
 his rage being now exhaufted, his pride hum- 
 bled, and his fpirits totally deprefled, fpeaks 
 in a flyle than which nothing can be ima- 
 gined more fimple, or more affecfting : 
 
 Pray, do not mock me ; 
 I am a very foollfli, fond old man, 
 Fourfcore and upward, and, to deal plainly with 
 
 you, ^ 
 I fear I am not in my perfed mind. 
 Methinks I fhould know you, and know this man. 
 Yet I am doubtful ; for I am mainly ignorant 
 What place this is, and all the fkill I have 
 Remembers not thefe garments 5 nor 1 kno'v not 
 
 L 1 2 Where
 
 a68 ONPOETRY Partll, 
 
 "UHiere I did lodge laft night. * 
 
 Defdemona, ever gentle, artlefs, and 
 
 fincere, fhocked at the unkindnefs of her 
 hufband, and overcome with melancholy, 
 fpeaks in a ftyle fo beautifully fimple, and 
 fo perfeclly natural, that one knov^rs not what 
 to fay in commendation of it : 
 
 My mother had a maid call'd Barbara ; 
 She was in love, and he (he loved proved mad. 
 And did forfakc her. She had a fong of willow ; 
 An old thing it was, but it exprefs'd her fortune. 
 And flie died fmging it. Ihat fong to-night 
 Will not go from my mind ; I have much to do. 
 But to go hang my head all at one fide. 
 And fmg it like poor Barbara f . 
 
 Sometimes 
 
 * King Lear, a£l 4. fcene 7. 
 
 J Othello, aft 4. fcene 3. This charming paflage, 
 tranflated into the Jinical Jlyle^ which, whatever be the 
 fubjecl or fpeaker, muft always be defcriptive, enigmaticalj, 
 and full of figures, would perhaps run thus : 
 
 Even now, fad Memory to my thought recals 
 
 The nymph Dione, who, with pious care, 
 
 l\Iy much-loved mother, in my vernal years. 
 
 Attended : blooming was the maiden's form, 
 
 And on her brow Difcretion fat, and on 
 
 Her rofy cheek a thoufand Graces play'd. 
 
 O lucklefs was the day, when Cupid's dart. 
 
 Shot from a gentle fwain's alluring eye, 
 
 Firll thrill'd with pleafing pangs her throbbing breaft ! 
 
 That gentle fwain, ah ! gentle now no more, 
 
 (JioiTid to tell !), by fudden phreufy driven, 
 
 Raft
 
 Ch. 1. 3. AND MUSIC. 269 
 
 Sometimes the imagination, even when 
 exerted to the utmoft, takes in but few ideas. 
 This happens when the attention is totally 
 engrolled by fome very great objecfl ; admira- 
 tion being one of thofe emotions that rather 
 fufpend the exercife of the faculties, than 
 pulh them into acSlion. And here too the 
 fimpleft language is the moft natural ; as 
 when Milton fays of the Deity, that he hts 
 *' high-throned above all height." And as 
 this fimplicity is more fuitable to that one 
 great exertion which occupies the fpeaker's 
 mind, than a more elaborate imagery or Ian- 
 Ran howling to the wild : blood-tin£lured fire 
 Glared from his haggard eyeballs, and on high 
 The hand of Horror raifed his ragged hair, 
 And cold fweat bathed his agonizing frame. 
 What didft thou then, Dione ! ill-ftar'd maid ! 
 What couldft thou do ! — From morn to dewy eve. 
 From Eve till rofy-finger'd Morn appear'd, 
 In a fad fong, a fong of ancient days, 
 Warbling her wild woe to the pitying winds, 
 She fat ; the weeping willow was her theme, 
 And well the theme accorded with her woe ; 
 Till Fate fupprefs'd at length th' unfinifli'd lay. 
 Thus on Meander's flowery mantled fide 
 The dying cygnet fings, and fniging dies. 
 
 I hope my young readers are all wifer ; but I believe 
 there was a time, when I fliould have been tempted to 
 prefer this flafhy tinfel to Shakefpeare's find gold. I do 
 not fay, that in themfelves thefe lines are all bad, though 
 feveral of them are ; and in fome forts of compofition 
 the greater part might perhaps be pardonable ; but I fay, 
 that, confidired in relation to the character and circum- 
 ftances of Defdemona, they are a^l unnatural, and there - 
 fpre not poetical.
 
 270 ON POETRY Part 11. 
 
 guage would have been ; Co has it alfo a more 
 powerful effeS. in fixing and elevating the 
 imagination of the hearer : for, to introduce 
 other thoughts for the fake of illuftrating 
 what cannot be illuflrated, could anfwcr no 
 other purpofe, than to draw oft^ the atten- 
 tion from the principal idea. In thefe and 
 the like cafes, the fancy left to itfelf will have 
 more fatisfaclion in purfuing at leifure its. 
 own fpeculations, than in attending to thofe 
 of others ; as they who fee for the firft time 
 fome admirable objecfl, "would chufe rather 
 to feaft upon it in filence, than to have 
 their thoughts interrupted by a long de- 
 fcription from another perfon, informing 
 them of nothing but what they fee before 
 them, are already acquainted with, or may 
 
 eafily conceive. On thefe principles, I 
 
 cannot but think, that Milton's elaborate ac- 
 count of the creation of light *, excellent 
 as it is in many particulars, is yet far lefs 
 llriking to the mind, than that famous paf- 
 fage of Mofes, fo juflly admired by Longi- 
 nus for its fublimity, " And God faid, Let 
 *' there be light ; and there was light." 
 \Vhen I contemplate the idea fuggelled by 
 
 * Let there be light, God faid ; and forthwith light 
 Ethereal, firft of things, quinteffence pure, 
 Sprving from the deep, and from her native eaft 
 To journey through the aery gloom began. 
 Sphered in a radiant cloud ; for yet the fun 
 Vv'as not ; fhe in a cloudy tabernacle 
 Sojourn'd the while. Farad, Lojl, vii. 244. 
 
 thefe
 
 Ch. 1. 3. AND MUSI C. 271 
 
 thefe few fimple words, I fancy myfelf en- 
 compaiTed with the darknefs of chaos ; that 
 I hear the Almighty Word, and at the fame 
 inftant fee light diffufed over all the im- 
 menlity of nature. Here an objecfl, the great- 
 eft furely that can be imagined, the whole 
 illuminated univerfe ftarts at once into view. 
 And the flmcy feems to be affifted not a littb 
 t)y the fhortnefs and fimplicity of the phrafe, 
 which hint the inftantaneoufnefs of the ef- 
 fedl, and the facility wherewith the Firlt 
 Caufe operates in producing a work fo un- 
 utterably beautiful, and fo aftonilliingly grea:. 
 
 But to return from this digreifion, whichi 
 was only intended to fhow, that though foixe 
 thoughts and emotions require a figurative, 
 others as naturally adopt a fimple, ftyk : 
 
 1 remarked, that the hyperbole^ pro/op-)- 
 
 pe'ia^ and apojirophe^ are among the moft paf- 
 onate figures. This deferves illuftration. 
 
 I. A very angry man is apt to think tie 
 injury he has juft received greater than it 
 really is ; and, if he proceed immediatdy 
 to retaliate by word or deed, feldom fails to 
 exceed the due bounds, and to become in- 
 jurious in his turn. The fond parent locks 
 upon his child as a prodigy of genius and 
 beauty ; and the romantic lover will not be 
 perfuaded that his miftrefs has nothing fu- 
 pernatural either in her mind or perfon. 
 Fear, in like manner, not only magnifies its 
 objedl when real, but even forms an obe<5t 
 out of nothing, and miftakes the fi(5lion5 of 
 
 faicv
 
 272 O N P O E T R Y Part IL 
 
 fancy for the intimations of fenfe. — No 
 wonder then, that they who fpeak according 
 to the impulfe of paffion fliould fpeak hyper" 
 holically : that the angry man fliould exag- 
 gerate the injury he has received, and the 
 \engeance he is going to inflict ; that the for- 
 iDwful fliould magnify what they have loft, 
 and the joyful what they have obtained ; 
 that the lover fhould fpeak extravagantly of 
 the beauty of his miftrefs, the coward of the 
 dangers he has encountered, and the credu- 
 lous clown of the miracles performed by the 
 juggler. In fa6l, thefe people would not do 
 jiiHce to what they feel, if they did not fay 
 more than the truth. The valiant man, on 
 tlie other hand, as naturally adopts the di- 
 mnifliing hyberbole, when he fpeaks of dan- 
 ga- ; and the man of fenfe, when he is ob- 
 liged to mention his own virtue or ability ; 
 becaule it appears lo him, or he is willing to 
 coafider it, as lefs than the truth, or at beft 
 as nconfiderable. Contempt ufes the fame 
 figure ; and therefore, Petruchio, affecfting 
 thai: pafTion, affedls alfo the language of it : 
 
 j Thou liefl, thou thread, thou thimble, 
 
 Ihou yard, three quarters, half yard, quarter, nail, 
 Ihou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket, thou ! 
 Braved in mine own houfe with a fkein of thread ! 
 Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant * ! 
 
 ■ 
 Forjfome paflions confider their objed:s as 
 
 I 
 
 * taming of the Shrew, a£l 4. fcene i.
 
 Ch.I. 3. A N D M U S I C. 273 
 
 important, and others as unimportant. Of 
 tlie former fort are anger, love, fear, admi- 
 ration, joy, forrow, pride ; of the latter are 
 contempt and courage. Thofe may be fald 
 to fubdue the mind to the objetft ; and thefc, 
 to fubdue the objedl to the mind. And the 
 former, when violent, always magnify their 
 objects ; whence the hyperbole called Am- 
 plification, or Auxefis ; and the latter as con- 
 flantly diminifli theirs ; and give rife to the 
 hyperbole called Meiofis^ or Diminution. — 
 Even when the mind cannot be faid to be 
 under the influence of any violent pafTion, 
 we naturally employ the fame figure, Vv^hen 
 we would imprefs another very ftrongly 
 with any idea. He is a walking fiiadow ; 
 he is worn to Ikin and bone ; he has one 
 foot in the grave, and the other following ; 
 — thefe and the like phrafes are proved to 
 be natural by their frequency. — By intro- 
 ducing great ideas, the hyperbole is fur- 
 ther ufeful in poetry, as a fource of the fub- 
 lime ; but, when employed injudicioufly, 
 is very apt to become ridiculous. Cowley 
 makes Goiiah as big as the hill down which 
 he was marching * ; and tells us, that when 
 he came into the valley, he feemed to fill it, 
 and to overtop the neighbouring mountains, 
 (which, by the by, leems rather to leifen 
 the mountains and vallies, than to magnify 
 
 * Davideis, book 3. 
 
 Vol. n. M m the
 
 ^74. 
 
 ON POETRY Part II, 
 
 the giant) ; nay, he adds, that the fun 
 ftarted back when he faw the fplendor of 
 his arms. This poet feems to have thought, 
 that the figure in queftion could never be 
 fufficiently enormous ; but QuintiHan would 
 have taught him, " Qiiamvis omnis hyper- 
 " bole ultra fidem, non tamen effe debet 
 '* ultra modum." The reafon is, that this 
 figure, Avhen exceffive, betokens, rather ab- 
 folute infatuation, than intenfe emotion ; and 
 relembles the efforts of a ranting tragedian, 
 or the ravings of an enthufiaftic declaimer, 
 who, by putting on the geflures and looks 
 of a lunatic, fatisfy the difcerning part of 
 their audience, that, inllead of feeling flrong- 
 ly, they have no rational feelings at all. 1^ 
 the wildefl: energies of nature there is a mo- 
 defly, which the imitative artift will be care- 
 ful never to overilep. 
 
 2. That figure, by which things are fpo- 
 ken of as if they were perfons, is called Fro- 
 fopopcia^ or Perfonification. It is a bold fi- 
 gure, and yet is often natural. Long ac- 
 quaintance recommends to fome fliare in our 
 alfeclion even things inanimate, as a houfe, 
 a tree, a rock, a mountain, a country ; and 
 were we to leaye fuch a thing, without hope 
 of return, we fliould be inclined to addrefs 
 it with a farewell, as if it w^ere a perci- 
 pient creature. Nay, we find that ignorant 
 nations have adually worfhipped fiich things, 
 or coniidered them as the haimt of certain 
 powerful beings. Dryads and Hamadryads 
 
 were
 
 Gil. t. j. A N D M U S I C. 275 
 
 were by the Greeks and Romans fuppofed 
 to prefide over trees and groves ; river-gods 
 and nymphs over ftreams and fountains ; little 
 deities, called Lares and Pennies^ were be- 
 lieved to be the guardians of hearths and 
 houfes. In Scotland there is hardly a hill 
 remarkable for the beauty of its fliape, that 
 was not in former times thought to be the 
 habitation of fairies. Nay modern as well as 
 ancient fuperftition has appropriated the wa- 
 ters to a peculiar fort of demon or goblin, 
 and peopled the very regions of death, the 
 tombs and charnel-houfes, with multitudes 
 of ghofts and phantoms.- — Befides, when 
 things inanimate make a flrong impreffion 
 upon us, whether agreeable or otherwife, we 
 are apt to addrefs them in terms of affec- 
 tion or diflike. The failor bleffes the plank 
 that brought him afliore from the fliipwreck ; 
 and the paflionate man, and fometimes even 
 the philofopher, will fay bitter words to the 
 ftumbling-block that gave him a fall. — 
 Moreover, a man agitated with any intereft- 
 ing paffion, efpecially of long continuance, 
 is apt to fancy that all nature fympathifes 
 with him. If he has loft a beloved friend, 
 he thinks the fun lefs bright than at other 
 times ; and in the fighing of the v/inds and 
 groves, in the lowings of the herd, and in 
 the murmurs of the flream, he feems to 
 hear the voice of lamentation. But when joy 
 or hope predominate, the whole v/orid ai- 
 fumes a gay appearance. In the contempla-" 
 M m 2 tion
 
 276 ONPOETRY Part 11. 
 
 tlon of every part of nature, of every con- 
 dition of mankind, of every form of hu- 
 man fociety, the benevolent and the pious 
 man, the morofe and the chearful, the mifer 
 and the mifanthrope, finds occafion to in- 
 dulge his favourite paiTion, and fees, or 
 thinks he fees, his own temper refledled back 
 in the actions, fympathies, and tendencies 
 of other things and perfons. Our affedlions 
 are indeed the medium through which we 
 may be faid to furvey ourfelves, and every 
 thing elfe ; and whatever be our inward 
 frame, we are apt to perceive a wonderful 
 congeniality in the world without us. And 
 hence, the fancy, when roufed by real emo- 
 tions, or by the pathos of compofition, is 
 eafily reconciled to thofe figures of fpeecli 
 that afcribe fympathy, perception, and the 
 other attributes of animal life, to things 
 inanimate, or even to notions merely intel- 
 lectual. — Motion, too, bears a clofe affinity 
 to adlion, and affedls our imagination near- 
 ly in the fame manner ; and we fee a great 
 part of nature in motion ; and by their 
 fenfible cfieds are led to contemplate ener- 
 gies innumerable. Thefe conduct the ra- 
 tional mind to the Great Firfh Caufe ; and 
 thefc, in times of ignorance, difpofed the 
 vulgar to believe in a variety of fubordinate 
 agents employed in producing thofe appear- 
 ances that could not otherwile be accounted 
 for. Hence an endlefs train of fabulous 
 deities, and of witches, demons, fairies, 
 
 genii ;
 
 Ch. 1. 3. AND MUSIC. 277 
 
 genii ; which, if they prove our reafon weak 
 and our fancy ftrong, prove alfo, that Per- 
 fonification is natural to the human mind ; 
 and that a right ufe of this figure may have 
 a powerful effedl, in fabulous writing efpe- 
 cially, to engage our fympathy in behalf of 
 things as well as perfons, for nothing (as 
 was before obferved) can give lading delight 
 to a moral being, but that which awakens 
 fympathy, and touches the heart : and tho' 
 it be true, that we fympathife in fome de- 
 gree even with inanimate things, yet what 
 has, or is fuppofed to have, life, calls forth 
 a more fincere and more permanent fellow- 
 feeling — Let it be obferved further, that 
 to awaken our fympathetic feelings, a lively 
 conception of their object is neceilary. This 
 indeed is true of almoft all our emotions ; 
 their keennefs is in proportion to the vivacity 
 of the perceptions that excite them. Diftrefs 
 that we fee is more affecfting than what we 
 only hear of * ; a perufal of the gayeft fcenes 
 in a comedy does not roufe the mind fo ef- 
 fectually, as the prefence of a chearful com- 
 panion ; and the death of a friend is of great- 
 er energy in producing ferioufnefs, and the 
 coniideration of our latter end, than all the 
 pathos of Young. Of defcriptigns addreiTed 
 to the fancy, thofe that are moft vivid and 
 pidlurefque will generally be found to have 
 the moft powerful influence over our affec- 
 
 * Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. i8o. 
 
 tions
 
 ^78 ON POETRY Part 11. 
 
 tlons * ; and thofe that exhibit perfons en- 
 gaged in a(5lion, and adorned with vifible 
 infignia^ give a brilker impulfe to the facul- 
 ties, than fuch as convey intellecftual ideas 
 only, or images taken from fliill Hfe. No 
 abftracl notion of Time, or of Love, can be 
 fo llriking to the fancy, as the image of an 
 old man accoutered w^ith a fcythe, or of a 
 beautiful boy with wings and a bow and ar- 
 rows : and no phyfiological account of Frenzy 
 could fugged fo vivid an idea, as the poet 
 has given us in that exquiflte portrait, 
 
 And moody Madnefs laughing wild, amid feverefl 
 woe. 
 
 And for this reafon J)artly it is, that the E- 
 pic poet, in order to work the more efFedtual- 
 ly upon our pafTions and imagination, refers 
 the fecret fprings of human condudl, and 
 the viciffitudes of human affairs, to the a- 
 gency of perfonified caufes ; that is, to the 
 machinery of gods and goddeffes, angels, 
 demons, magicians, and other powerful be- 
 ings. And hence, in all fublime poetry, 
 life and. motion, with their feveral modes and 
 attributes, are liberally beftowed on thofe 
 
 * I {aj generally, for it is not always fo. Defcriptions 
 of very great or terrible objcdts have fometimes a greater 
 efFeft upon the mind, when exprefled with fome degree 
 of obfcurity, where " more is meant than meets the ear," 
 than if they had been pictured out in the moft hvely man- 
 ner. See part i. chap. 5. § 4. 
 
 objeds
 
 Gh. 1. 3. AND MUSIC. 279 
 
 objects wherewith the author intends that 
 we fhould be flrongly imprefTed : fcenes per- 
 fed:ly inanimate, and flill tending rather to 
 diffufe a languor over the mind, than to 
 communicate to our internal powers thofe 
 lively energies, without which a being efTen- 
 tially acflive can never receive complete gra- 
 tification. — Laftly, fome violent pafTions are 
 peculiarly inclined to change things into per- 
 fons. The horrors of his mind haunted O- 
 reftes in the fhape of furies. Confcience in 
 the form of the murdered perfon, flares the 
 murderer in the face, and often terrifies him 
 to diflradtion. The fuperftitious man, tra- 
 velling alone in the dark, miftakes a white 
 ftone for a ghoft, a bufh for a demon, a tree 
 waving with the wind for an enormous giant 
 brandiihing a hundred arms. The lunatic 
 and enthufiaft converfe with perfons who exifl 
 only in their own diftempered fancy : and 
 the glutton, and the mifer, if they were to 
 give utterance to all their thoughts, would 
 often, I dare fay, fpeak, the one of his gold, 
 the other of his belly, not only as a perfon, 
 but as a god, — the obje6l of his warmefl 
 love, and moft devout regard. — More need 
 not be faid to prove, that Perfonification is 
 natural, and may frequently contribute to 
 the pathos, energy, and beauty of poetic lan-r 
 
 guage. 
 
 3. Apofirophe^ or a fudden diveriion of 
 fpeech from one perfon to another perfon or 
 thing, is a figure nearly related to the for- 
 mer.
 
 28o ONPOETRY Part 11. 
 
 mer. Poets fometimes make ufe of it, in or- 
 der to help out their verfe, or merely to give 
 variety to their ftyle : but on thofe occa- 
 fions it is to be confidered as rather a trick of 
 art, than an effort of nature. It is moft 
 natural, and moft pathetic, w^hen the per- 
 fon or thing to whom the apoftrophe is 
 made, and for whofe fake we give a new 
 direction to our fpeech, is in our eyes emi- 
 nently diftinguifhed for good or evil, or raifes 
 within us fome fudden and powerful emo- 
 tion, fuch as the hearer would acquiefce in, 
 or at leaft acknowledge to be reafonable. 
 But this, like the other pathetic figures, 
 mull be ufed with great prudence. For 
 if, inflead of calling forth the hearer's fym- 
 pathy, it fliould only betray the levity of 
 the fpeaker, or fuch wanderings of his mind 
 as neither the fubjec^l nor the occafion would 
 lead one to expecl, it will then create dif- 
 gufl, inftead of approbation. — The orator, 
 therefore, mufl not attempt the paffionate 
 apoftrophe, till the minds of the hearers be 
 prepared to join in it. And every audience 
 is not equally obfequious in this refpe(5l. In 
 the forum of ancient Rome that would have 
 paffed for fublime and pathetic, which in 
 the moft refpedlable Britifh auditories would 
 appear ridiculous. For our flyle of public 
 fpeaking is cool and argumentative, and par- 
 takes lefs of enthuliafm than the Roman 
 did, and much lefs than the modern French 
 or Italian. Of Britiib eloquence, particular- 
 2 ly
 
 Ch. I. 3- A N D M U S I C. 2S1 
 
 ly that of the pulpit, the chief recommenda- 
 tions are gravity and fimplicity. And it is 
 vain to fay, that our oratory ought to be 
 more vehement : for that matter depends on 
 caufes, w^hich it is not only inexpedient, but 
 impolTible to alter; namely, on the character 
 and fpirit of the people, and their rational 
 notions in regard to religion, policy, and li- 
 terature. The exclamations of Cicero would 
 weigh but little in our parliament ; and ma- 
 ny of thofe which we meet Vv^ith in French 
 fermons would not be more effedlual if at- 
 tempted in our pulpit. To fee one of our 
 preachers, who the moment before was a cool 
 reafoner, a temperate fpeaker, an humble 
 Chriflian, and an orthodox divine, break 
 out into a fudden apoflrophe to the immor- 
 tal powers, or to the walls of the church, 
 tends to force a fmile, rather than a tear, 
 from thofe among us who rellecl, that there 
 is nothing in the fubjecl, and iliould be no- 
 thing in the orator, to warrant fuch v/ander- 
 ings of fancy, or vehemence of emotion. If 
 he be careful to cultivate a pure ftyle, and a 
 grave and graceful utterance, a Britifli cler- 
 gyman, who fpeaks from convidiion the 
 plain unafFecfLed words of truth and fober- 
 nefs, of benevolence and piety, will, if I 
 miftake not, convey more pathetic, as well 
 as more permanent, impreilions to the heart, 
 and be more ufeful as a Chriftian teacher, 
 than if he were to put in pra6;ice all the 
 Vol. II. N n ac-
 
 ?82 ONPOETRY Part II. 
 
 attitudes of Rofcius, and all the tropes and 
 figures of Cicero. 
 
 But where the language of paflion and en- 
 thufiafni is permitted to difplay itfelf, what- 
 ever raifes any ftrong emotion, whether it 
 be animated or inanimate, abfent or prefent, 
 fenhble or intelledlual, may give rife to the 
 apoftrophe. A man in a diflant country, 
 fpeaking of the place of his birth, might na- 
 turally exclaim, *' O my dear native land, 
 *' fhall I never fee thee more !" Or, when 
 fome great misfortune befals him, " Hap- 
 ** py are ye, O my parents, that ye are not 
 *' alive to fee this." — We have a beautiful 
 apoftrophe in the third book of the Eneid, 
 where Eneas, who is telling his flory to 
 Dido, happening to mention the death of 
 his father, makes a fudden addrefs to him as 
 follows : 
 
 hie, pelagi tot tcmpeftatlbus aftus, 
 
 Heu, genitorem, omnis curse cafufque levamen, 
 Amitto Anchifen ; — hie me, pater optime, feffurn 
 Deferis, heu, tantis nequicquam erepte periclis ! 
 
 This apoftrophe has a pleafing efFe(5l. It feems 
 to intimate, that the love which the hero 
 bore his father was fo great, that when 
 he mentioned him, he forgot every thing 
 elfe ; and, without minding his company, 
 one of whom was a queen, fuddenly ad- 
 drefTed himfelf to that which, though pre- 
 fent only in idea, was ftill a principal ob- 
 
 jed
 
 Ch. 1. 3. AND MUSI C. 283 
 
 jedl of his affed:ion. An emotion fo warm 
 and fo reafonable cannot fail to command 
 the fympathy of the reader. — When Mi- 
 chael, in the eleventh book of Paradife Loft, 
 announces to Adam and Eve the neceflity of 
 their immediate departure from the garden 
 of Eden, the poet's art in preferving the de- 
 corum of the two characfters is very re- 
 markable. Pierced to the heart at the thought 
 of leaving that happy place, Eve, in all the 
 violence of ungovernable forrow, breaks forth 
 into a pathetic apoftrophe to Paradife, to the 
 flowers ihe had reared, and to the nuptial 
 bower fhe had adorned. Adam makes no 
 addrefs to the walks, the trees, or the flowers 
 of the garden, the lofs whereof did not fo 
 much afflid: him ; but, in his reply to the 
 Archangel, exprelfes, without a figure, his 
 regret for being baniflied from a place where 
 he had fo oft been honoured with a fen- 
 fible manifeftation of the Divine Prelence. 
 The vife of the apoftrophe in the one cafe, 
 and the omiflion of it in the other, not only 
 gives a beautiful variety to the ftyle, but alfo 
 marks that fuperior elevation and compofure 
 of mind, by which the poet had all along 
 diftinguifhed the charadler of Adam. — One 
 of the fineft applications of this figure that 
 is any where to be feen, is in the fourth book 
 of the fame Poem ; where the author, catch- 
 ing by fympathy the devotion of our firft 
 parents, liiddenly drops his narrative, and 
 N n :a joins
 
 284 ONPOETRY Part 11. 
 
 joins his voice to theirs in adoring the Fa- 
 ther of the iiniverfe. 
 
 Thus at their fliady lodge arrived, both flood. 
 Both turn'd, and under open fky adored 
 The God that made both Iky, air, earth, and hea- 
 ven, 
 Which they beheld, the moon's refplendent globe, 
 Aiui (tarry pole : — Thou alio mad'fl the night, 
 JNTaker Omnipotent, and thou the day,- 
 Which we in our appointed work employed 
 Have finilh'd. 
 
 Milton took the hint of this fine contrivance 
 from a well-known pafTage of Virgil : 
 
 Hie juvenum chorus, ille fenum ; qui carmine 
 
 laudes 
 
 Herculeas et fa6ta ferant. ; 
 
 — ut duros mille labores 
 
 Rege fub Euryflheo, fatis Junonis iniqua^ 
 Pertuierit : — Tu nubigcnas, invide, bimembres 
 HyliKum Pholoumque manu ; tu Crefia maclas 
 Prodigia. *" 
 
 The beauty arifing from diverfified compo- 
 fition is the fnne in both, and very great 
 in each. But every reader mud fiel, that 
 the figure is incomparably more affecting to 
 the mind in the imitation, than in the origi- 
 nal. So true it is, that the m.oll rational 
 
 * See a fimilar inftance, Taflb Gier. lib. 18. ft. 14. 
 
 emotions
 
 Ch. I. 3. AND MUSIC. 285 
 
 emotions raife the moft intenfe fellow-feel- 
 ing ; and that the apoftrophe is then the 
 moll emphatical, when it difplays thofe work- 
 ings of human affection, which are at once 
 ardent, and well-founded. 
 
 A full difcufTion of the prefent topic would 
 require a methodical and more particular ac- 
 count of the feveral tropes and figures, their 
 congruity to human emotions, and their ef- 
 fecfls in compofition. But thefe few remarks 
 will perhaps be thought to prove with fuf- 
 ficient evidence, the utility of figurative ex- 
 preiTion in making language more pleafin^ 
 and more natural. I lliall therefore only 
 add, that tropes and figures, particularly 
 the metaphor, fimilitude, and allegory, are 
 further ufeful in beautifying language, by 
 fuggefUng, together with the thoughts eifen- 
 tial to the fubjedl, an endlefs variety of a- 
 greeable images, for which there would be 
 no place, if writers were always to con- 
 fine themfeives to the proper names of things. 
 And this beauty and variety, judiciouily ap- 
 plied, is fo far from diftracling, that it tends 
 rather to fix, the attention, and captivate the 
 heart of the reader, by giving light, and 
 life, and pathos to the whole compofition. 
 
 II. The end of Poetry, above all other li- 
 terary arte, is to pleafe by imitating nature. 
 I have now fliown, that by tropes and fi- 
 gures language may be made more natural 
 and more pleating, than it could be without 
 them. It follows, that tropes and figures 
 
 are
 
 286 ON POETRY Part IL 
 
 are more necefTary to poetry, than to any 
 other mode of writing : — which is the fe- 
 cond point propofed to be iUnftrated in this 
 feclion. 
 
 The fame point might be proved from 
 other confiderations. Language, as fhown 
 already, is then natural, when it is fuitable 
 to the fuppofed condition of the fpeaker. 
 Figurative language is peculiarly fuitable to 
 the fuppofed condition of the poet ; becaufe 
 figures are fuggefted by the fancy ; and the 
 fancy of him who compofes poetry is more 
 employed, than that of any other author. 
 Of all hiftorical, philofophical, and theolo- 
 gical refearches, the objed; is real truth, 
 which is fixed and permanent. The aim of 
 rhetorical declamation (according to Cicero) 
 is apparent truth ; which, being lefs deter- 
 minate, leaves the fancy of the fpeaker more 
 free, gives greater fcope to the inventive 
 powers, and fupplies the materials of a more 
 figurative phrafeology. But the poet is fub- 
 je(5l to no reflraints, but thofe of verifimili- 
 tude ; which is ftill lefs determinate than 
 rhetorical truth. He feeks not to convince 
 the judgement of his reader by arguments of 
 either real or apparent cogency; he means 
 only to pleafe and intereft him, by an ap- 
 peal to his fenfibility and imagination. His 
 own imagination is therefore continually at 
 work, ranging through the whole of real 
 and probable exiilence, " glancing from 
 *' heaven to earth, from earth to heaven," 
 
 in
 
 Ch. 1. 3. AND MUSIC. 1%-] 
 
 in qiieft of images and ideas fuited to the 
 emotions he himfelf feels, and to the fym- 
 pathies he would communicate to others. 
 And, confequently, figures of fpeech, the 
 offspring of excurlive fancy, muft (if he 
 fpeak according to what he is fuppofed to 
 think and feel, that is, according to his fup- 
 pofed condition) tindlure the language of 
 the poet more than that of any other com- 
 pofer. So that, if figurative didlion be un- 
 natural in geometry, hecaufe all wanderings 
 of fancy are unfuitable, and even impofTible, 
 to the geometrician, while intent upon his 
 argument ; it is, upon the fame principle, 
 perfedlly natural, and even unavoidable in 
 poetry ; becaufe the more a poet attends to 
 his fubjecfl, and the better qualified he is to 
 do it juflice, the more acflive will his ima- 
 gination be, and the more diverfified the i- 
 deas that prefent themfelves to his mind. 
 
 Befides, the true poet addrefles himfelf 
 
 to the paflions and fympathies of mankind ; 
 which, till his own be raifed, he cannot hope 
 to do with fuccefs. And it is the nature of 
 many pafTions, though not of all, to in- 
 creafe the activity of imagination : and an 
 a(5live imagination naturally vents itfelf in 
 figurative language ; nay, unlefs reftrained 
 by a correal tafte, has a tendency to exceed 
 in it; — of which Bifliop Taylor, and Lord 
 Verulam, two geniufes different in kind, 
 but of the highell order, are memorable ex- 
 amples. 
 
 I
 
 288 ONPOETRY Part ID 
 
 I fald, that " the poet fecks not to con- 
 " vince the judgement of his reader by ar- 
 *' guments of either real or apparent co- 
 " gency.' 1 do not mean, that in poe- 
 try argument has no place. The moll: legi- 
 timate reafoning, the foundefl philoibphy, 
 and narratives purely hiftorical, may appear 
 in a poem, and contribute greatly to the ho- 
 nour of the author, and to the importance 
 of his work. All this we have in Paradife 
 
 Loft. 1 mean, that what diftinguiflies 
 
 ^iire poetry from other writing, is its ap- 
 titude, not to fivay the judgement by rea- 
 foning, but to pleafe the fancy, and move, 
 the paffions, by a lively imitation of nature.-" 
 Nor would I exclude poetical embellifliment 
 from hidory, or even from philofophy. 
 Plato's Dialogues and Addifon's Moral Elfays 
 abound in poetic imagery ; and Livy and 
 Tacitus often amufe their readers with poeti- 
 cal defcription. In like manner, though 
 Geometry and Phyfics be different fciences ; 
 
 — though abftracl ideas be the fubje(5l, and 
 pure deiuanftration or intuition the evidence, 
 of the former ; and though the material u- 
 niverfe, and the informations of fenfe, be 
 the fubjecl and the evidence of the latter; 
 
 — yet have thefe fciences been united by the 
 befl philofophers, and very happy effecfls re- 
 
 fulted from the union. In one and the 
 
 fame work, poetry, hiftory, philofophy, and 
 oratory, may doubtlefs be blended ; nay, 
 thefe arts have all been actually blended in 
 
 2 one '
 
 Ch. 1. 3. AND MUSIC. 289 
 
 one and the fame work, not by Milton only, 
 but alfo by Homer, Virgil, Lucan, and 
 Shakefpeare. Yet ftill thefe arts are differ- 
 ent ; — different in their ends, and prin- 
 ciples, and in the faculties of the mind to 
 which they are refpecflively addreffed : and 
 it is eafy to perceive, when a writer employs 
 one, and when another* 
 
 III. A reafon why tropes and figures are 
 more necelfary in fome forts of poetry, than 
 in others, it is not difhcult to aflign. This 
 depends on the condition of the fuppofed 
 fpeaker, particularly on the flate of his ima- 
 gination and paffions. When the foul pines 
 with forrow, or languifhes in love, it keeps 
 its view more fleadily fixed on one or a few 
 ideas, than when it is poffeffed with en- 
 thufiafm, or agitated by jealoufy, revenge, 
 indignation, anxiety, or any other turbulent 
 emotion. In the former cafe it is inadlive ; 
 in the latterj reftlefs ; 
 
 Magno curarum flu£luat seflu^ 
 
 Atque animum nunc hue celerem, nunc dividit 
 
 illuc. 
 In partefque raplt varias, perque omnia verfat ; 
 
 and therefore in the one cafe it will be oc- 
 cupied by few ideas, and in the other by 
 many. The ityle, therefore, of the amorous 
 or mournful elegy, in order to be imitative 
 of the language of forrow or defponding 
 love, mull be fimpler, and lefs diverfified by 
 Vol. II. O o figures,
 
 290 
 
 ON POET R Y Part II, 
 
 figures, than that of the dithyrambic fong, 
 or of any other poem m which the fpeaker 
 is fuppofed to be greatly agitated. 
 
 I have heard the fineft Ode in the world 
 blamed for the boldnefs of its figures, and 
 for what the critic was pleafed to call ob- 
 fcurity. He had, I fuppofe, formed his tafte 
 upon Anacreon and Waller, whofe Odes are 
 indeed very fimple, and would have been 
 very abfurd, if they had not been fimple. 
 But let us recolle<5l the circumftances of A- 
 nacreon, (confidered as the fpeaker of his 
 own poetry), and of Gray's Welfh Bard. 
 The former warbles his lays, reclining on a 
 bed of flowers, diflblved in tranquillity and 
 indolence, while all his faculties feem to be 
 engrofled by one or a few pleafurable objec^ls. 
 The latter, juft efcaped from the mafifacre of 
 his brethren, under the complicated agita- 
 tions of grief, revenge, and defpair; and 
 furrounded with the fcenery of rocks, moun- 
 tains, and torrents, ftupendous by nature, 
 and now rendered hideous by defolation, im- 
 precates perdition upon the bloody Edward ; 
 and, feized with prophetic enthufiafm, fore- 
 tells in the moft alarming drains, and typi- 
 fies by the moft dreadful images, the dif- 
 afters that Vv'ere to overtake his family and 
 defcendents. If perljpicuity and fimplicity 
 be natural in the ibngs of Anacreon, as they 
 certainly are, a figurative ftyle and deful- 
 tory compofition are no Icfs natural in this 
 inimitable performance of Gray. And if 
 
 real
 
 Ch. 1. 3. AND MUSIC. 291 
 
 real prophecy muft always be fo obfcure, 
 as not to be fully underftood till it is ac- 
 complillied, becaufe otherwife it would in- 
 terfere with the free agency of man, that 
 poem which imitates the flyle of prophecy, 
 muft alfo, if natural, be to a certain degree 
 obfcure ; not indeed in the images or words, 
 but in the allufions. And it is in the allu- 
 lions only, not in the words or images, (for 
 thefe are mod emphatical and pi(5turefque), 
 that the poem partakes of obfcurity ; and 
 even its allufions will hardly feeni obfcure to 
 thofe who are acquainted with the hiftory of 
 England. Thofe critics, therefore, who find 
 fault with this poem, becaufe it is not fo 
 fimple as the fongs of Anacreon, or the love- 
 verfes of Shenftone and Waller, may as well 
 blame Shakefpeare, becaufe Othello does not 
 fpeak in the fweet and fimple language of 
 Defdemona. Horace has no where attempt- 
 ed a theme of fuch animation and fublimity, 
 as this of Gray ; and yet Horace, like his 
 mailer Pindar, is often bold in his tranfi- 
 tions, and in the flyle of many of his odes 
 extremely figurative. But this we not only 
 excufe, but applaud, when we confider, that 
 in thofe odes the aiTamed character of the 
 fpeaker is enthufiafm, which in all its o- 
 perations is fomewhat violent, and mufl 
 therefore give a peculiar vehemence both to 
 thought and to language. 
 
 On what principle, then, it may be faid, 
 
 are we to look for fimplicity and exacfl ar- 
 
 O o 2 rangement.
 
 292 ON POETRY Pare H, 
 
 rangement, in the flyle of an Epic poem ? 
 Why is not the language of the lUad and 
 Eneid as figurative as that of Pindar ? — To 
 this I anfwer, firft, That the alTumed cha- 
 racfler of the Epic poet is calm infpiration, 
 the efFecfts whereof upon the mind muft be 
 fuppofed to be very different from thofe 
 produced by enthufiafm or prophetic rap- 
 ture ; regularity and compofure being as 
 efTential to the former, as wildnefs and vehe- 
 mence are to the latter : and, fecondly, That 
 a very figurative flyle continued through a 
 long work becomes tirefome ; and therefore, 
 that all poems of great length ought to be 
 methodical in the plan, and fimple in the 
 execution. Abrupt tranfition, boldnefs of 
 figure, and thoughts elevated almofl to ex- 
 travagance, may pleafe in a fhort poem ; as 
 the dainties of a banquet, and the fplen- 
 dour of a triumph, may amufe for a day : 
 but much feafling deftroys health, and per- 
 petual glare and tumult (lupify the fenfes; 
 and the high lyric flyle continued through 
 many pages would fatigue the attention, con-? 
 found the judgement, and bewilder the fan^ 
 
 CHAP,
 
 Ch,II. AN D MUSIC. 293 
 
 CHAP. n. 
 
 Of the Sound of Poetical Language, 
 
 IT is folly to prefer found to fenfe. Yet 
 the ear, like every other perceptive fa- 
 culty, is capable of gratification ; and there- 
 fore to the found of words fome regard is 
 to be had, even in profe. For ill-founding 
 language can never be agreeable, either to 
 the hearer or to the fpeaker ; and of differ- 
 ent modifications of well-founding language 
 fome will be found to be more agreeable 
 than others. It is the bufinefs of the poet 
 to make his ftyle as agreeable, and confe- 
 quently as pleafing to the ear, as the nature 
 of the fubjecSt will allow. And to the har- 
 mony of language it behoves him, more than 
 any other writer, to attend; as it is more 
 efpecially his concern to render his work plea- 
 furable. In facft we find, that no poet was 
 ever popular who did not poffeis the art of 
 harmonious compolition. 
 
 What 1 have to fay on the fubjed: of Poe- 
 ^^tical Harmony may be referred to one or o- 
 ther of thefe heads : Sweetnefs, Meafure, and 
 Imitation. 
 
 J. In order to give fwcetnefs to language, 
 
 either
 
 294 ONPOETRY Part H. 
 
 either in verfe or profe, all words of harfli 
 found, difEcult pronunciation, or unwieldy 
 magnitude, are to be avoided as much as 
 pollible, unlefs when they have in the found 
 fomething peculiarly emphatical ; and words 
 are to be fo placed in refpedl of one another, 
 as that difcordant combinations may not re- 
 fult from their union. But in poetry this is 
 more neceffary than in profe ; poetical lan- 
 guage being underftood to be an imitation 
 of natural language improved to that per- 
 fe(5lion which is confiftent with probability. 
 To poetry, therefore, a greater latitude mufl 
 be allowed than to profe, in expreifmg, by 
 tropes and figures of plealing found, thofe 
 ideas whereof the proper names are in any 
 refpedl offenfive, either to the ear or to the 
 fancy *. 
 
 II. How far verification or regular meafure 
 may be elTential to this art, has been dif- 
 puted by critical writers ; fome holding it to 
 be indifpenfably neceifary, and fome not ne- 
 ceffary at all. Without recapitulating what 
 has been faid by others, I fhall only deliver 
 my own opinion, which, if I miftake not, 
 will be found confiftent with the principles 
 already eftablifhed. 
 
 Firft, then, I am of opinion, that to poe- 
 try verfe is not efi^ential. In a profe work, 
 we may have the fable, the arrangement, 
 and a great deal of the pathos, and language, 
 
 * See part 2. chap. i. icdi. 3. ^ I. i. 2. 
 
 of
 
 Ch. 11. A N D M U S I C. 29^ 
 
 of poetry ; and fuch a work is certainly a 
 poem, though perhaps not a perfecfl one. 
 For how abfurd would it be to fay, that by 
 changing the pofition only of a word or two 
 in each line, one might divert Homer s Iliad 
 of the poetical characfler ! At this rate, the 
 arts of poetry and verfification would be the 
 fame ; and the rules in Defpauter's Gram- 
 mar, and the moral diftichs afcribed to Cato, 
 would be as real poetry as any part of Virgil. 
 In fa6l, fome very ancient poems, when tran- 
 ilated into a modern tongue, are far lefs 
 poetical in verfe than in profe ; the altera- 
 tions neceffary to adapt them to our num- 
 bers being detrimental to their fublime fim- 
 plicity ; of which any perfon of tafte will 
 be fenlible, who compares our common 
 profe-verfion of Job, the Pfalms, and Song 
 of Solomon, with the bed metrical paraphrafe 
 of thofe books that has yet appeared *. Nay, 
 
 * Madame Dacler, zealous to vindicate her Homer, 
 feems to carry the encomium on profe-tranflation ra- 
 ther too far, when fhe exclaims, " Ouy, je ne crains 
 *' point de le dire, et je pourrois le prouver, les poetes 
 
 *' traduits en vers cefTent d*etre poetes."' But fhe is 
 
 right in what fhe fays a little after : " En fait de traduc- 
 '* £lion, il y a fouvent dans la profe une precifion, une 
 *' beaute, et une force, dont la poefle ne pent approcher. 
 *' Les livres des Prophetes, et les Pfeaumes, dans la 
 *' vulgate meme, font pleins de pafTages, que le plus 
 ** grand pbete du monde ne f^auroit rendre en vers, 
 '* fans leur faire perdre de leur majelle, et de leur ener- 
 " gie." 
 
 Preface a V Iliade de Mad. Dacier, p. 39. 
 
 in
 
 tt96 ON POETRY Part tt 
 
 in many cafes, Comedy will be more poeti- 
 cal, becaufe more pleafing and natural, in 
 profe, than in verfe. By verfifying Tom 
 Jones and The Merry Wives of Windfor, 
 ■we fhould fpoil the two finefl Comic poemsj 
 the one Epic, the other Dramatical, now in 
 the world. 
 
 But, fecondly. Though verfe be not effen- 
 tial to poetry, it is neceffary to the perfection 
 of all poetry that admits of it. Verfe is to 
 poetry, what colours are to painting *. A 
 painter might difplay great genius^ and draw 
 mafterly figures with chalk or ink ; but if 
 he intend a perfedl pi(5l;ure, he mull employ 
 in his work as many colours as are feen in 
 the obje(ft he imitates. Or, to adopt a 
 beautiful companion of Demofthenes, quoted 
 by x^iriftotle f, " Verfification is to poetry 
 *' what bloom is to the human counte- 
 *' nance." A good face is agreeable when 
 the bloom is gone ; and good poetry may 
 pleafe without verfification ; harmonious 
 numbers may fet off an indifferent poem, 
 and a fine bloom indifferent features : but, 
 ■without verfe, poetry is incomplete ; and 
 
 * Horace feems to hint at the fame comparifon, when,, 
 after fpecifying the feveral forts of verfe luitable to E^ 
 pic, Elegiac, Lyric, and Dramatic Poetry, he adds, 
 
 Defcriptas fervare vices, cperumque colores, 
 . Cur ego, fi nequeo ignoroque, Poeta falutor ? 
 
 ylr. Poet. verj. 86. 
 
 t Arirtot. Rhetor, lib. 3. cap. 4. 
 
 I beauty
 
 Ch. ir. AND MUSIC. 297 
 
 beauty is not perfecfl, iinlefs to fweetnefs and 
 regularity of feature there be fuperadded, 
 
 The bloom of young defire, and purple light of 
 love. 
 
 If numbers are neceflary to the perfe(51:ion of 
 the higher poetry, they are no lels fo to 
 that of the lower kinds, to Paftoral, Song, 
 and Satire, which have little beiides the lan- 
 guage and verfification to diflinguilh thiCm 
 from profe; and which fome ancient authors 
 are unwilling to admit to the rank of poems ; 
 — though 1 think it too nice a fcruple, 
 both becaufe fuch writings are commonly 
 termed Poetical, and alfo becaufe there is, 
 even in them, fomething that may not im- 
 properly be confidered as an imitation of na- 
 ture. 
 
 That the rhythm and meafures of verfe 
 are naturally agreeable; and therefore, that 
 by thefe poetry may be made more pieafmg 
 than it would be without them, is evident 
 from this, that children and illiterate people, 
 whofe admiration we cannot fuppofe to be 
 the efFedl of habit or prejudice, are exceeding- 
 ly delighted with them. In many proverbial 
 fayings, where there is neither rhime nor 
 alliteration *, rhythm is obvioufly ftudied. 
 Nay, the ufe of rhythm in poetry is univer^ 
 
 * See EflTiy on Laughter, chap, 2. feci.. 3. 
 
 Vol. II. P P ^^^i
 
 298 ON POETRY Part II. 
 
 fal ; whereas alliteration and rhime, though 
 reliihed by fome nations, are not much foughc 
 after by others. And we need not be at a 
 lois to account for the agreeablenefs of pro- 
 portion and order, if we reflect, that they 
 fuggeft the agreeable ideas of contrivance and 
 flvill, at the fame time that they render the 
 connection of things obvious to the under* 
 {landing, and imprint it deeply on the me- 
 mory*. Verfc, by promoting diftin6l and 
 eafy remembrance, conveys ideas to the mind 
 with energy, and enlivens every emotion 
 the poet intends tt) raife in the reader or 
 hearer. Befides, when we attend to verfes, 
 after hearing one or two, we become ac- 
 quainted with the meafure, which therefore 
 we always look for in the fequel. This 
 perpetual interchange of hope and gratifica- 
 tion is a fource of delight; and to this in 
 part is owing the pleafure we take in the 
 rhimes of modern poetry. And hence we fee, 
 that though an incorre(5l rhime, or untune^ 
 able verfe, be in itfelf, and compared with 
 an important fentiment, a very trifling mat- 
 ter ; yet it is no trifle in regard to its ef- 
 fects on the hearer ; becaufe it brings dif- 
 appointment, and fo gives a temporary fliock 
 to the mind, and interrupts the current of 
 the afteClions ; and becaufe it fuggefts the 
 difagreeable ideas of negligence or want of 
 
 * On the effects of Pibythm in mufic; fee above, part i. 
 
 chap. 6. le^. 2. § 4.
 
 Ch. IL A N D M U S I C. 
 
 299 
 
 ikill on the part of the author. And there- 
 fore, as the pubUc ear becomes more deli- 
 cate, the neghgence will be more glaring, 
 and the difappointment more intenfcly felt ; 
 and corredtnefs of rhime and of meafure 
 will of courfe be the more indifpenfable* 
 In our tongue, rhime is more neceilary to 
 Lyric, than to Heroic poetry. The reafon 
 feems to be, that in the latter the ear can 
 of itfelf perceive the boundary of the mea- 
 fure, becaufe the lines are all of equal length 
 nearly, and every good reader makes a fhort 
 paufe at the end of each ; whereas, in the 
 former, the lines vary in length ; and there- 
 fore the rhime is requifite to make the 
 meafure and rhythm fufficiently perceptible. 
 Cuftom too may have fome influence. Eng- 
 lifh Odes without rhime are uncommon ; 
 and therefore have fomething awkward a- 
 bout them, or fomething at leaft to which 
 the public ear is not yet thoroughly recon- 
 ciled. 
 
 Moreover, in poetry, as in mufic. Rhythm 
 is the fource of much pleafing variety ; of 
 variety tempered with uniformity, and regu- 
 lated by art : infomuch, that, notwithftand- 
 ing the likenefs of one hexameter verfe to 
 another, it is not common, either in Virgil 
 or inr Homer, to meet with two contigu- 
 ous hexameters, whofe rhythm is exacftly the 
 fame. And though all Englith heroic vsr- 
 fes confift of five feet, among which the 
 Iambic predominates; yet this meafure, in 
 IT P p 2 relbe<ft
 
 \QO 
 
 ON POETRY Part 11. 
 
 refpecl of rhythm alone, is fufceptible of 
 iTiore than thirty varieties. And let it be 
 remarked further, that different kinds of 
 verfe, by being adapted to different fubjedls 
 and modes of writing, give variety to the. 
 poetic language, and multiply the charms of 
 this pleafing art. 
 
 What has formerly been fliown to be true 
 in regard to flyle, will alfo in many cafes 
 hold true of verfiiication, *' that it is then 
 " iiatwaly when it is adapted to the fuppofed 
 ** condition of the fpeaker." — In the Epopee, 
 the poet affumes the chara(5ler of calm in- 
 fplraiion ; and therefore his language mufl 
 be elevated, and his numbers majellic and 
 uniform. A peafant fpeaklng in heroic or 
 hexameter verfe is no improbability here ; 
 becaufe his words are fuppofed to be tranl- 
 mitted by one who will of his own accord 
 give them every ornament neceffary to re- 
 duce them into dignified meafure ; as an e- 
 loquent man, in a fblemn allembly, reca- 
 pitulating the fpeech of a clown, would na- 
 turally exprefs it in pure and perfpicuous lan- 
 guage. The uniform heroic meafure will 
 fuit any fubjedl of dignity, whether nar- 
 rative or didaclic, that admits or requires 
 uniformity of flyle. — In Tragedy, where 
 the imitation of real life is more perfect than> 
 in Epic poetry, the uniform magnificence of 
 Epic numbers might be improper ; becaufe 
 the heroes and heroines are fuppofed to fpeak 
 in their ovvu perfons, and accordmg to the 
 
 immediate
 
 GK. II. A N D M U S I C. 301 
 
 immediate impulfe of paflion and fentlment. 
 Yet even in Tragedy, the verfification may- 
 be both harmpnious and dignified ; becaufe 
 the charadlers are taken chiefly from high 
 life, and the events from a remote period ; 
 and becaufe the higher poetry is permitted 
 to imitate nature, not as it is, but in that 
 ftate of perfedlion, in which it might be. 
 The Greeks and Romans confidered their 
 hexameter as too artificial for Dramatic po- 
 etry, and therefore in tragedy, and everi 
 in comedy, made ufe of the Iambic, and 
 fome other meafures that came near the ca- 
 dence of converfation : we ufe the Iambic 
 both in the epic and dramatic poem ; but, 
 for the moft part, it is, or ought to be, 
 much more elaborate in the former, than 
 in the latter. — In Dramatic Comedy, where 
 the m.anners and concerns of familiar life 
 are exhibited, Verfe would feem to be un- 
 natural, except it be fo like the found of 
 common difcourfe, as to be hardly diftin- 
 guifhable from it. Cuftom, however, may 
 in Ibme countries determine othervv^ile ; and 
 againft cuftom, in thefe matters, it is vain 
 to argue. — The profeffed enthufiafm of the 
 dithyrambic poet renders wildnefs, variety, 
 and a fonorous harmony of numbers pecu- 
 liarly fuitable to his odes. The love-fon- 
 net, and Anacreontic fong, will be lefs va- 
 rious, more regular, and of a fofter har- 
 mony ; becaufe the ftate of mind expreiTed 
 in it has more compofure. — Philofophy can 
 ^ fcarce
 
 302 ONPOETRY Part 11. 
 
 fcarce go further in this inveftigation, with- 
 out deviating into whim and hypothefis. 
 The particular forts of verfe, to be adopted 
 in the lower fpecies of poetry, are deter- 
 mined by fafhion chiefly, and the pradlice of 
 approved authors. 
 
 III. The origin and principles of imita- 
 tive harmony, or of that artifice by which 
 the found is made, as Pope fays, *' an. 
 '* echo to the fenfe," may be explained in 
 the following manner. 
 
 It is pleafing to obferve the uniformity of 
 nature in all her operations. Between mo- 
 ral and material beauty and harmony, be- 
 tween moral and material deformity and dif- 
 Ibnance, there obtains a very ftriking analo- 
 gy. The vifible and audible expreilions of 
 almofl every virtuous emotion are agreeable 
 to the eye and the ear, and thofe of almoft 
 every criminal paflion difagreeable. The 
 looks, the attitudes, and the vocal founds, 
 natural to benevolence, to gratitude, to com- 
 patlion, to piety, are in themfelves graceful 
 and pleafmg ; while anger, difcontent, de- 
 fpair, and cruelty bring difcord to the voice, 
 deformity to the features, and diflortion to 
 the limbs. That flowing curve, which 
 painters know to be cflential to the beauty 
 of animal ihape, gives place to a multiplicity 
 of right lines and fliarp angles m the coun- 
 tenance and gefl:ure of him who knits his 
 brows, fl:retches his noilrils, grinds his teeth, 
 and clenches his fill; ; whereas devotion. 
 
 mag-
 
 Ch. II. AND MUSIC. 303 
 
 magnanimity, benevolence, contentment, and 
 good-humour, foften the attitude, and give 
 a more graceful fwell to the outline of e- 
 very feature. Certain vocal tones accom- 
 pany certain mental emotions. The voice 
 of forrow is feeble and broken, that of 
 defpair boiflerous and incoherent ; joy af^ 
 fumes a fweet and fprightly note, fear a 
 weak and tremulous cadence ; the tones of 
 love and benevolence are mulical and uni- 
 form, thofe of rage loud and dilTonant ; the 
 voice of the fedate reafoner is equable and 
 grave, but not unpleafant ; and he who de- 
 claims with energy employs many varieties 
 of modulation fuited to the various emotions 
 that predominate in his difcourfe. 
 
 But it is not in the language of paffion 
 only, that the human voice varies its tone, 
 or the human face its features. Every flri- 
 king fentiment, and every intcrcfting idea, 
 has an effedl upon it. One would efteem 
 that perfon no adept in Narrative eloquence, 
 who fhould defcribe with the very fame ac- 
 cent, fwift and flow motion, extreme la- 
 bour and eafy performance, agreeable fen- 
 fation and excruciating pain ; who fliould 
 talk of the tumult of a tempefluous ocean, 
 the roar of thunder, the devaluations of an 
 earthquake, or an Egyptian pyramid tum- 
 bling into ruins, in the fame tone of voice 
 wherewith he defcribes the murmur of a rill, 
 the warbling of the harp of Eolus, the 
 fwinging of a cradle, or the defccnt of an 
 
 angel.
 
 304 O N P O E T R Y Part IL 
 
 angel. Elevation of mind gives dignity to 
 the voice. From Achilles, Sarpedon, and 
 Othello, we fliould as naturally exped: a 
 manly and fonorous accent, as a nervous ftyle 
 and majeftic attitude. Coxcombs and bul- 
 lies, while they aflume airs of importance 
 and valour, affccfl alfo a dignified articula- 
 tion. 
 
 Since the tones of natural language are 
 fo various. Poetry, which imitates the lan- 
 guage of nature, mufl alfo vary its tones ; 
 and, in refpecl of found as well as of mean- 
 ing, be framed after that model of ideal per- 
 fedtion, which the variety and energy of 
 the human articulate voice render probable. 
 This is the more ealily accompliflied, be- 
 caufc, in every language, there is between 
 the found and fenfe of certain words a per- 
 ceptible analogy ; which, though not fo 
 accurate as to lead a foreigner from the 
 found to the iignification '*, is yet accurate 
 
 enough 
 
 * There is in Taflb's Cierufalcmme Liberafa a famous 
 -ftanza, of which Roufleau fays, that a good ear and fin- 
 cere heart are alone fufficient to enable one to judge of 
 it. The imitative harmony and the poetry are indeed 
 admirable ; but I doubt whether a perfon who under- 
 ftands neither Italian nor Latin could even guefs at the 
 meaning from the found. I have attempted it in Eng- 
 •liili, but am fenfible of my inability to do it juflice. 
 
 Chiama gli habitator de 1' ombre eterne 
 II rauco fuon de la tartarea tromba : 
 Treman ie fpaciofc atre caverne, 
 Et I'aer cieco a quel rumor rimbomba j 
 
 2 Nc
 
 Ch. ir. A N D M U S I G. 
 
 S'^S 
 
 enough to fhow, that, in forming fuch 
 words, regard has been had to the imitative 
 quahties of vocal found. Such, in Enghfli, 
 are the words yell, crafli, crack, hifs, roar, 
 murmur, and many others. 
 
 All the particular laws that regulate this 
 fort of imitation, as far as they are founded 
 in nature, and liable to the cognizance of 
 philofophy, depend on the general law of 
 ftyle above mentioned. Together with the 
 other circumftances of the fuppofed fpeaker, 
 the poet takes into confideration the tone of 
 voice fuitable to the ideas that occupy his 
 mind, and thereto adapts the found of his 
 language, if it can be done confidently with 
 eafe and elegance of expreffion. But when 
 this imitative harmony is too much fought 
 after, or words appear to be chofen for found 
 rather than fenfe, the verfe becomes finical 
 and ridiculous *. 
 
 Wofds 
 
 Ne ftrldendo coii da le fuperne 
 
 Region! del cielo il folgor piomba ; 
 
 Ne fi Scofla giamai trema la terra, 
 
 Quando i vapori in fen gravida ferra. Can. 4. _fl. 4. 
 
 To call the tribes that roam the Stygian fliores, 
 Tiie hoarfe Tartarean trump in thunder roars ; 
 Hell through her trembling caverns ftarts aghaft, 
 And Night's black void rebellows to the blaft : 
 Far lefs the peal that rends th' ethereal world, 
 When bolts of vengeance from on high are hurl'd ; 
 Far lefs the ihock that heaves earth's tottering frame, 
 "When its torn entrails fpout th' imprifon'd flame. 
 
 * Such is Ronfard's afFe6led imitation of the fong of 
 %%e {ky-lark : 
 Vol. II. q^q EUe
 
 3o6 O N P O E T R Y Part II. 
 
 Words by their found may imitate found ; 
 and quick or flow articulation may imitate 
 quick or flow motion. Hence, by a pro- 
 per choice and arrangement of words, the 
 poet may imitate, Sounds that are, Sweet 
 with dignity {a), — Sweet and tender (^), — ^ 
 
 Loud 
 
 EUe quindee du zephire 
 Sublime en 1' air vire et revire, 
 Et y declique un joli cris, 
 Qui rit, guerit, et tire I'ire 
 Des efprits mieux que je n' ecris. 
 
 This is as ridiculous as that line of Ennius, 
 
 Turn tuba terribili fonitu taratantara dixit : 
 Or as the following verfes of Swift ; 
 
 The mao with the kettle-drum enters the gate. 
 Dub dub a dub dub : the trumpeters follow, 
 Tantara tantara; while all the boys hollow. 
 
 {a) No fooner had th' Almighty ceas'd, than all 
 The multitude of angels, with a fliout 
 Loud as from numbers without number, fweet 
 As from bleft voices uttering joy ; heaven rung 
 With jubilee, and loud hofannas fill'd 
 The eternal regions. Par. Lo/l, hook 3. 
 
 See alfo the night-ftorm of thunder, lightening, wind, 
 and rain, in Virg. Georg. lib. i. verf. 328. — 334. 
 
 {b) Et longum, formofe, vale, vale, inquit, Tola. 
 
 P^irg. EcL 3. 
 
 Formofam refonare doces AmarilUda filvas. 
 
 Virg. Eel. I. 
 
 See
 
 Ch. ir. AND MUSIC. 307 
 
 Loud {c)y — and Harfli (d) ; — and Motions 
 that are, Slow in confequence of dignity [e)y 
 — Slow in confequence of difficulty ( /'), — 
 
 Swift 
 
 See alfo the fimile of t^ie nightingale, Geor. lib. 4. verf. 
 511. And fee that wonderful couplet defcribing the 
 wailings of the owl, ^neid. IV. 462. 
 
 {c) ■■ vibratus ab aethere fulgor 
 
 Cum fonitu venit, et ruere omnia vifa repente, 
 Tyrrhenufque tubse mugire per aethera clangor j 
 Sufpiciunt i iterum atque iterum fragor intonat in- 
 gens. JEneicL 8. 
 
 See alfo the ftorm in the firft book of the Eneid, and in 
 the fifth of the Odyfiey ; — and the ftanza already quoted 
 from Taflb. 
 
 {d) The hoarfe rotigh verfe fhotald like the torrent 
 roar. Pope. 
 
 On a fudden open fly, 
 
 With impetuous recoil and jarring found, 
 Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate 
 Harfla thunder. Par. Lojl, ll. 879. 
 
 See alfo Homer's Iliad, lib. 3. verf, 363. and Clarke's an- 
 notation. 
 
 (<?) See an exquifite example in Gray's Progrefs of 
 Poefy ; the conclufion of the third ftanza. 
 
 (/") And when up ten fteep flopes you've drag'd your 
 thighs. Pope. 
 
 Juft brought out this, when fcarce his tongue 
 coiild ftir. Pope, 
 
 The huge leviathan 
 
 Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait, 
 Temped the ocean. Par. Lojiy Yi\. 411. 
 
 .Q^q 2 See
 
 308 ONPOETRY Part IL 
 
 Swift and noify {g), — Swift and fmooth (h), 
 — Uneven and abrupt (^), — Quick and 
 joyous (ffi). An vmexpedled paule in the 
 verfe may alfo imitate a fudden failure of 
 
 See the famous defcri'ption of Sifyphus roiling the ftorie, 
 Odyff. lib. II. verf. 592. See Qriintil. Inft. Orat. lib. 9.- 
 cap. 4. § 4. compai*ed with Paradife Loft, book 2. 
 verf. 1022. 
 
 {g) Quadriipedante pUtrem fonim quatit ungula can*- 
 pv\m. JEneid. 
 
 AvTui> iTreiTCL ^eSoKde kvk!vqito kolxc ayxtbuc. 
 
 Odyff, II. 
 See alfo Virg. -^neid. lib. i. verf. 83. — 87. 
 
 (/;) See wild as the winds o'er the defart he flies. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 Hie volat, fimul arva fuga, fimul oequora verreos. 
 
 Firg. 
 
 P;;i6;;; r i?reirx TTihei, yjuKiTTv] TTi^ jsaa. HfJlod. 
 
 Horn. 
 
 The lafs fhriek'd, ftarted up, and fhriek'd again. 
 
 Anvnym. 
 
 ipi) Let the merry bells ring round,^ 
 And the jocund rebecks found, 
 To many a youth, and many a maid. 
 Dancing in the chequer'd fhade. 
 
 Milton's Allegre. 
 
 See alfo Grays Progrefs of Poefy, Stanza 3. 
 
 ftrengtii
 
 Qi. II. AND MUSIC. 309 
 
 ftrength (w), or interruption of motion [o)y 
 or give vivacity to an image or thought, by 
 fixing our attention longer than ulual up- 
 on the word that precedes it (/>). — More- 
 over, when we defcribe groat bulk, it is 
 natural for us to articulate llowly even in 
 common difcourfe ; and therefore a line of 
 poetry that requires a flow pronunciation, 
 or feems longer than it fliould be, may be 
 ufed with good efFedl in defcxibing vaftnefs 
 6f fize {q), — Sweet and fmooth numbers 
 
 are 
 
 (n) Ac velut in fomnis oeulos ubi languida preffitt 
 
 No£le quies, nequicquam avidos extendere ciirfus 
 Velle videmur : — et in mediis conatibus segri 
 Succidimus. — — - JEneid. 12. 
 
 ^ee alfo Virg. Georg. lib. 3. verf, 515. 516. 
 
 (0) ^or this, befure to night thou flialt have cramps, 
 Side-fticlies that fliall pen thy breath up. Urchiu'"' 
 
 Shall exercife upon thee, — 
 
 Profpero to Calyban in the Tempeji. 
 
 See Pope's Iliad, XlII. 199. 
 
 (^) I ■ How often from the fteep 
 
 Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard 
 Celeftial voices, to the midnight air. 
 Sole, — or refponiive to each other's note, 
 
 Singing then.' great Creator ? 
 
 Par. Lojly b. 4, 
 
 And over them triumphant Death his dart 
 Shook, but delay'd to fkrike. Id. 
 
 See alfo Horn. OdyfT. lib. 9. verf. 290. 
 
 (5-) Thus ftretch'd out, Ijuge in lengih, the arch fiend 
 lay. P.ar. Loft. 
 
 Monftrum
 
 3IO O N P O E T R Y Part II. 
 
 are mofl proper, when the poet paints a- 
 greeable objedls, or gentle energy (r) ; and 
 harlher founds when he fpeaks of what is 
 ugly, violent, or difagreeable (j). This too 
 is according to the nature of common lan- 
 guage ; for we generally employ harllier tones 
 
 Monftrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen 
 ademptum. Virg. Mneid. 3. 
 
 Et magnos membrorum artus, magna ofla, lacertofque 
 Exuit, atque ingens media confiftit ai-ena. 
 
 JEneid. 5. verf. 422. 
 
 (r) Hie gelidi fontes, hie mollia prata, Lycori, 
 Hie nemus, hie iplo tecum confumerer aevo. 
 
 Virg. Ed. 10. 
 
 The dumb fhall iing> the hime his crutch forego. 
 And leap, exuhuig like the bounding roe. 
 
 Pope's MeJJiah. 
 
 See Milton's defcription of the evening, Par. Loft, book 4. 
 verf. 5'^j8,-— 609. 
 
 Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow. 
 And foftly lay ine on the waves below. 
 
 Pope's Sappho. 
 
 (j) Stridenti ftipula miferum difperdcre carmen. 
 
 Virg. Eel 3. 
 
 Immo ego Sardois videar tibi amarior herbis, 
 Korridior rufco, projecla villus aiga. 
 
 Virg. Eel. 7. 
 
 Neu patriae validas in vifeera vertite vires. 
 
 Virg. Mneid. 6. 
 I 
 See alfo Milton's defcription of the Lazar-houfe in Pa- 
 radife Loft,, book 11. verf. 477. — 492.
 
 Ch. II. A N D M U S I C. 311 
 
 of voice to exprefs what we diflike, and more 
 melodious notes to defcribe the objecfls of 
 love, complacency, or admiration. Harfli 
 numbers however (hould not be frequent in 
 poetry. For in this art, as in mufic, con- 
 cord and melody ought always to predomi- 
 nate. And we find in fa(5l, that good poets 
 can occafionally exprefs themfelves fbmewhat 
 harfhly, when the fubjedl requires it, and yet 
 prefer ve the fweetnefs and majefty of poeti- 
 cal didlion. — Further, the voice of com- 
 plaint, pity, love, and all the gentler affec- 
 tions is mild and mufical, and fhould there- 
 fore be imitated in mufical numbers ; while 
 defpair, defiance, revenge, and turbulent e- 
 motions in general, aifume an abrupt and 
 fonorous cadence. Dignity of defcription (/), 
 folemn vows [ii), and all fentiments that 
 proceed from a mind elevated vv^ith great i- 
 deas (1;), require a correlpondent pomp of 
 language and verfification. — Laftly : An ir- 
 regular or uncommon movement in the verfe 
 may fometimes be of ufe, to make the reader 
 
 (t) See Virg. Geor. I. 328. and Homer, Virgil, and 
 Milton, pajfini. See alfo Drydea's Alexander's Feaft, 
 and Gray's Odes. 
 
 (») See Virg. iEneld. IV. 24. 
 
 [v) Examples are frequent in the great authors. Sea 
 Othello's exclamation : 
 
 O now forever 
 Farewell the tranc^iiil mind ! &c. A^.^./cemi. 
 
 conceive
 
 312 O N P O E T R Y Part 11. 
 
 conceive an image in a particular manner. 
 Virgil defcribing horfes running over rocky 
 heights at full fpeed, begins the line with two 
 dactyls, to imitate rapidity, and concludes 
 it with eight long fyllables {iv) ; which is 
 a very unufual meafure, but feems well a- 
 ilapted to the thing expreffed, namely, to 
 the defcent of the animal from the hills to 
 the low ground. At anv rate, this extraor- 
 dinary change of the rhythm, may be al- 
 lowed to bear fome refemblance to the ani- 
 inal's change of motion, as it would be felt 
 by a rider, and as w^e may luppofe it is felt 
 by the animal itfelf. 
 
 Other forms of imitative harmony, and 
 many other examples, befides thofe referred 
 to in the margin, will readily occur to all 
 who arc converfant in the writings of the 
 bed veriifiers, particularly Homer, Virgil, 
 Milton, Lucretius, Spenfer, Dryden, Shake- 
 fpeare, Pope, and Gray. 
 
 I mud not conclude without remarking, 
 in juftice to the Greek and Latin poets, that, 
 from our ignorance of the ancient pronun- 
 ciation, we are but incompetently Ikilled in 
 
 (tt-') Saxa per, et icopulos, et dcprefTas convalles, 
 Cecr. 111. 276. Milton fcems to have imitated this move-, 
 nient, when he Tiiys, 
 
 Eterna? wrath 
 
 Burnt after them to the bottomlefs pit. 
 
 See above. Part. i. chap. 6. feet. i. 
 
 a their
 
 Ch. II. AND MUSIC. 
 
 3^3 
 
 their numbers ; and that there may be, and 
 probably are, in Homer and Virgil, mnny 
 imitative harmonies whereof we are not fen- 
 iible at all. The quantity of Greek and Latin 
 fyllables we know well enough ; but it is a 
 notorious facfl, that in cafes innumerable oi.r 
 pronunciation of them is contrary to what 
 we know to be right. Thus, in reading the 
 following line of Horace, 
 
 Aut prodefle volunt aut dele£lare poetEe, 
 
 every body pronounces the firfl fyllable of 
 i)olunt long, and the lad Ihort ; and yet e- 
 very body knows, that the firft is Ihort, and 
 the laft long. All regular hexameters be- 
 gin with a long fyllable ; yet how often 
 do the bed readers introduce them with a 
 Ihort one ! 
 
 When we read this line, by w^hich Virgil 
 meant both to defcribe and to imitate flow 
 motion, 
 
 Et fola in ficca fecum fpatiatur arena *, 
 
 we make only five or fix of the fyllables long; 
 and yet in this line there are no fewer than 
 ten long fyllables. Muft it not then to a Ro- 
 man ear have appeared more imitative, than 
 it does to ours ? 
 
 * Georg. i. 389. 
 
 Vol. II. R r la
 
 314 ONPOETRY Part IT. 
 
 In each of thofe admirable hexameters, fo 
 defcriptive of great fize, 
 
 Et magnos membrorum artus, magna ofla, lacer- 
 tofque. 
 
 Monftrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lu- 
 men ademptum. 
 
 there are eleven long fyllables according to 
 the ancient pronunciation, and only fix or 
 feven according to the modern. If, then, 
 there be any natural fuitablenefs in the flow 
 rhythm of thefe lines, (and Virgil certainly 
 thought there was), muft not that have been 
 more obfervable anciently than it is now ? 
 
 In the Englifh tongue, the foot Spondeus, 
 confifling of two long fyllables, is not fre- 
 quent, there being generally one fliort fyl- 
 lable, or more, for each long fyllable. And 
 as our accented or emphatic fyllables are all 
 long, and as we give emphafis to the Greek 
 and Latin fyllables in the fame way almoft 
 as to our own, we feldom preferve in our 
 pronunciation the rhythm of the ancient 
 poetry, and are (I think) mod apt to lofe it 
 in thofe verfes that abound in the Spondeus, 
 The Daclyl, of one long and two fhort fyl- 
 lables, is very common in Englilh ; and it 
 fometimes happens, though not often, that 
 in proAouncing an hexameter of Dac5lyls we 
 do preferve the true rhythm tolerably well. 
 Of fuch an hexameter I take the rhythm 
 to be the fame with the following : 
 
 Multitudes
 
 Ch. 11. 
 
 AND MUSIC. 
 
 3^S 
 
 Multitudes rufli'd all at once on the plain with a 
 thundering uproar. 
 
 And according to this rhythm, nearly, we 
 do in fa(5l pronounce the lafl line of Ho- 
 mer's celebrated defcription of Sifyphus *, 
 But this line of Virgil, whofe meafure and 
 motion are exadlly the fame, the moderns 
 pronounce differently, at lead in the firft 
 three feet : 
 
 Quadrupedante putrem fonitu quatit ungula camp- 
 um. 
 
 Of this other line of Virgil, defcribing loud 
 found, 
 
 Sufpiciunt ; iteruni atque iterum fragor intonat 
 ingens, 
 
 the rhythm is ftill the fame, after making 
 the neceflkry eli/ions ; and if the reader pro- 
 nounce it fo, his ear will perhaps inform 
 him, that it is more imitative than he at firft 
 imagined. 
 
 Ife the beginning of the Eneid, Eolus, at 
 Juno's defire, fends out his winds to deflroy 
 
 • AvTap £• 
 
 TTUTa TTl- 
 
 iavSi XV- 
 
 \ltotTO 
 
 Aa«> «¥• 
 
 Multitudes 
 
 rufli'd all at 
 
 once on the 
 
 plain with a 
 
 thundering 
 
 Qnadrupe- 
 
 dante pu- 
 
 trem foni- 
 
 tu quatit 
 
 iin^'ula 
 
 1 
 
 Sufpici- 
 
 unt ite- 
 
 r'atqu'ite- 
 
 rum frau'Or 
 
 iiHon It 
 
 uiS,:;. 
 uproar, 
 campum. 
 
 R r 2 
 
 the
 
 3i6 ONPOETRY Part 11. 
 
 Trojan fleet. Neptune rebukes them for in- 
 vading his dominions without his leave ; 
 and is juft going to denounce a threatening, 
 or infli6l a punilhment, when he recolle6ls, 
 that it was proper to calm his waters, be- 
 fore he did any thing elfe : 
 
 Quos ego — fed motos praeftat componere fludus. 
 
 The interrupted threat is a daclyl ; — the re- 
 mainder of the line goes off in fpondees. By 
 this tranfition from a quick to a flow rhythm, 
 is it not probable, that the poet intended to 
 imitate the change of Neptune's purpofe ? 
 But this is loft in our pronunciation, though 
 in the ancient I believe it muft have been ob- 
 
 fervable. One inftance more, and I quit 
 
 the fubjcvfl. 
 
 When Dido, that fatal morning on which 
 ilie put a period to her life, faw that Eneas 
 and his Trojans were actually gone, fhe at 
 firft broke forth into frantic denunciations 
 of revenge and ruhi ; but foon checks her- 
 felf, as if exhaufted by her paflion, when 
 fhe refledts, that her ravings v/ere all in vain. 
 *' Unhappy Dido ! (fays Ihe), thy evil def- 
 ** tiny is now come upon thee *." This 
 
 * Infelix Dido ! nunc te fa'tci impia tangunt. JEneidy iv. 
 
 5q6. V: we read y^iJ?cZ impid, with, the Mediceaa 
 
 Manurci'ipt, the Rhythm is ftill the fame, and the f-^nre 
 nor niaterialiy dih,crcnt : *' ^ahappy Dido ! now ar^; the 
 *' conibquences of thy broken vows come upon thee." 
 
 change
 
 Ch. II. A N D M U S I C. 317 
 
 change of her mind from tempeft to a 
 momentary calm (for fhe immediately re- 
 lapfes into vengeance and diflracflion) is 
 finely imitated in the poet's numbers. The 
 words I have tranflated form a line of Spon- 
 dees, whofe flow and foft motion is a ftriking 
 contraft to the abrupt and fonorous rapidity 
 of the preceding and following verfes. This 
 beauty, too, is in a great meafure loft in our 
 pronunciation ; for we only give five or fix 
 long fyllables to a line which really con- 
 tains eleven. — — Are thefe remarks too re- 
 fined ? Thofe readers will hardly think fo, 
 who have ftudied Virgil's verfification ; which 
 is artful and appolite to a degree that was ne- 
 ver equalled or attempted by any other poet. 
 In the courfe of thefe obfervations on the 
 found of Poetical Language, I am not con- 
 fcious of having affirmed any thing which 
 does not admit of proof. Some of the proofs, 
 however, I was obliged to leave out ; as they 
 would have led me into long difquifitions, 
 relating rather to the peculiarities of Latin 
 and Englilh verfe, than to the general cha- 
 racters of the Poetic Art. Thefe proofs may 
 poflibly find a place hereafter in A Treatife of 
 <verff cation and Englif^d profody^ which I be- 
 gan fome years ago, but have not yet finifli"" 
 ed. 
 
 THE END.
 
 «<^ t^l t^;) t^J «<^^ •-*>> t^l v^ t^^ t^i t^ ctf^t^? i*:^ t^ c^ «<?*» 
 
 A N 
 
 ESSAY 
 
 O N 
 
 LAUGHTER 
 
 AND 
 
 LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 
 
 ^^^ t^l «.^^ t^^ t^^ t^^ l^^ t^l C^» t^» V^^ t^l t^l t^l U^l t^l «-^'
 
 A n 
 
 ESSAY 
 
 O N 
 LAUGHTER 
 
 AND 
 
 LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 
 
 Written in the year 1764. 
 
 Ego vero omni de re facetius puto pojfe ab 
 homine non inurbano, quam de ipjis facetiis, dif" 
 putari, Cicero* 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Introduftion. The Subje6l propofed* 
 Opinions of Philofophers, — L A- 
 riftotle — IL Hobbes — IIL Hut- 
 chefon — IV. Akenfide. 
 
 OF Man, it is obferved by Horner^ 
 that he is the moft wretched, and, 
 by Addifon and others, that he is 
 the merrieft animal in the whole 
 creation : and both opinions are plaufible. 
 Vol. IL S f and
 
 -^22 On Laughter and Ch. I. 
 
 J 
 
 and both perhaps may be true. If, from 
 the acutenefs and dehcacy of his perceptive 
 powers, from his remembrance of the pafl, 
 and his anticipation of what is to come, from 
 his refllefs and creative fancy, and from the 
 various fenfibihties of his moral nature, Man 
 be expofed to many evils, both imaginary 
 and real, from which the brutes are exempt- 
 ed, he does alfo from the fame fources de- 
 rive innumerable delights, that are far be- 
 yond the reach of every other animal. That 
 our pre-eminence in pleafure fliould thus, 
 in fome degree, be counterbalanced by our 
 pre-eminence in pain, v»'^as neceffary to exer- 
 cife our virtue, and wean our hearts from 
 fublunary enjoyment; and that beings thus 
 befet with a multitude of forrows fhould be 
 fupplied from fo many quarters with the 
 means of comfort, is fuitable to that benign 
 economy which characterifes every operation 
 of nature. 
 
 V/hen a brute has gratified thofe few ap- 
 petites that minifter to the fupport of the 
 fpecies, and of the individual, he may be 
 iaid to have attained the fummit of happi- 
 nefs, above which a thoufand years of pro- 
 Iperity could not raife him a fingle ftep. 
 But for Man, her fiivourite child, Nature has 
 made a more liberal proviiion. He, if he 
 have only guarded againft the neceffities of 
 life, ard indulged the animal part of his 
 conRitution, has experienced but little of 
 that felicity whereof he is capable. To fay 
 
 nothing
 
 Ch. I. Ludicrous Composition. 323 
 
 nothing at prefent of his moral and religious 
 gratifications, is he not furniflied with facul- 
 ties that fit him for receiving pleafure from 
 almofl every part of the vifible univerfe ? E- 
 ven to thofe perfons, whofe powers of obfer- 
 vation are confined within a narrow circle, 
 the exercife of tlie necefTary arts may open 
 inexhauftible fources of amufement, to al- 
 leviate the cares of a folitary and laborious 
 life. Men of more enlarged underftandinir, 
 and more cultivated tafte, are dill more plen- 
 tifully fupplied with the means of innocent 
 delight. For fuch, either from acquired ha- 
 bit, or from innate propenfity, is the foul 
 of man, that there is hardly any thing in 
 art or nature from which we may not de- 
 rive gratification. What is great, overpowers 
 with pieafing aftonifliment ; wdiat is little, 
 may charm by its nicety of proportion, or 
 beauty of colour ; wdiat is diverfified, pleafes 
 by fupplying a feries of novelties ; what is 
 uniform, by leading us to reflect on the fkill 
 difplayed in the arrangement of its parts; 
 order and conne6tion gratify our fenfe of 
 propriety ; and certain forms of irregiilarity 
 and unjidtablenejs raife within us that agree- 
 able emotion whereof Laughter is the out- 
 ward fign. 
 
 Risibility, confidered as one of the 
 characters that diftinguilh man from the in- 
 ferior animals, and as an inilrument of 
 harmlefs, and even of profitable recreation, 
 to every age, condition, and capacity, of 
 S f 2 human
 
 324 On Laughter and Ch. I. 
 
 human creatures, muft be allowed to be not 
 unworthy of the philofopher's notice. What- 
 ever is peculiar to rational nature, muft be 
 an obje(5l of fome importance to a rational 
 being ; and Milton has obferved, that 
 
 Smiles from reafon flow. 
 To brute denied : 
 
 Whatever may be employed as a means 
 
 of difcountenancing vice, folly, or falfehood, 
 is an objedl of importance to a moral being; 
 and Horace has remarked, 
 
 Ridiculum acri 
 Fortius et melius magnas plerumque fecat res *. 
 
 Let this apology fuffice at prefent for my 
 choice of a fubjedl. Even this apology might 
 have been fpared : for nothing is below the 
 attention of philofophy, which the Author 
 of Nature has been pleafed to eftablifli. 
 
 In tracing out the caufe of Laughter, I 
 mean rather to illuftrate than to confute the 
 opinions of thofe who have already written 
 on the fame fubjed:. The inveftigation has 
 been feveral times attempted ; nor is the caufe 
 altogether unknown. Yet, notwithftanding 
 
 * Ridicule fhall frequently prevail, 
 
 And cut the knot when graver realbns fail. 
 
 Francis. 
 
 former
 
 Ch. I. Ludicrous Composition. 325 
 
 /■ 
 former difcoveries, the following EfTay may 
 perhaps be found to contain fomething new ; 
 to throw light on certain points of criticifm 
 that have not been much attended to ; and 
 even to have fome merit (if I execute my 
 purpofe) as a familiar example of philofo- 
 phical indudlion carried on with a ftridl re- 
 gard to fad:, and without any previous bias 
 in favour of any theory. 
 
 To provoke Laughter, is not effential ei- 
 ther to Wit or to Humour. For though that 
 unexpedled difcovery of refemblance between 
 ideas fuppofed diflimilar, which is called W'lt^ 
 and that comic exhibition of fingular cha- 
 ratflers, fentiments, and imagery, which is 
 denominated Humour^ do frequently raife 
 laughter, they do not raife it always. Ad- 
 difon's Poem to Sir Godfrey Kneller, in 
 which the Britifh kings are likened to heathen 
 gods, is exquifitely witty, and yet not laugh- 
 able. Pope's Eilav on Man abounds in fe- 
 rious wit; and examples of ferious humour 
 are not uncommon in Fielding's Hiflory of 
 Parfon Adams, and in Addifon's Account of 
 Sir Roger de Coverly. Wit, when the fub- 
 jedl is grave, and the allufion fublime, raifes 
 admiration inflead of laughter : and if the 
 comic fnigularities of a good man appear 
 in circumflances of real diftrefs, the imita- 
 tion of thofe lingularities, in the Epic or 
 Dramatic Comedy, will form a fpecies of hu- 
 mour, which, if it fhould force a fmile, will 
 draw forth a tear at the fame time. An in- 
 quiry,
 
 326 On Laughter and Ch. I. 
 
 quiry, therefore, into the diflinguifhing cha- 
 racflers of Wit and Humour, has no neceflary 
 connection with the prefent fubjedl. 1 did, 
 however, once intend to have touched upon 
 them in the conclufion of this Difcourfe : 
 but Dr Campbell's maflerly difquiiition con- 
 cerning that matter, in the firft part of his 
 Philofophy of Rhetoric ., makes it improper for 
 me to attempt it. I was favoured with a 
 perufal of that work in manufcript, when I 
 had finifhed the three firfl chapters of this 
 EfTay for the prefs ; and was agreeably fur- 
 prifed to find my notions, in regard to the 
 caufe or objedl of Laughter, fo fully war- 
 ranted by thofe of my very learned and in- 
 genious friend. And it may not perhaps be 
 improper to inform the pviblic, that neither 
 did he know of my having undertaken this 
 argument, nor I of his having difcufTed that 
 fubjedl, till we came mutually to exchange 
 our papers, for the purpofe of knowing one 
 another's fentiments in regard to what we had 
 written. 
 
 Some authors have treated of Ridicule, 
 without marking the diftindlion between Ri- 
 diculous and Ludicrous ideas. But I prefume 
 the natural order of proceeding in this In- 
 quiry, is to begin with afcertaining the na- 
 ture of what is purely Ludicrous. Things lu- 
 dicrous and things ridiculous have this in com- 
 mon, that both excite laughter ; but the 
 former excite pure laughter, the latter ex- 
 cite laughter mixed with difapprobation or 
 
 contempt
 
 Ch. I. Ludicrous Composition. 327 
 
 contempt *. My defign is, to analyfe and 
 explain that quality in things or ideas, which 
 makes them provoke pure Laughter^ and en- 
 titles them to the name of Ludicrous or Laugh- 
 able, 
 
 When certain objects, qualities, or ideas, 
 occur to our fenfes, memory, or imagina- 
 tion, we fmile or laugh at them, and ex- 
 pe61: that other men fhould do the fame. To 
 fmile on certain occafions, is not lefs naturaly 
 than to weep at the fight of diflrefs, or cry 
 out when we feel pain. 
 
 There are different kinds of Laughter. As 
 a boy, pafling by night through a church- 
 yard, fings or whiftles in order to conceal 
 his fear even from himfelf ; fo there are men, 
 who, by forcing a fmile, endeavour fbme- 
 times to hide from others, and from them- 
 felves too perhaps, their malevolence or en- 
 vy. Such laughter is unnatural. The 
 found of it offends the ear ; the features 
 diflorted by it feem horrible to the eye. A 
 mixture of hypocrify, malice, and cruel joy, 
 thus difplayed on the countenance, is one of 
 the mofl hateful fights in nature, and tranf- 
 forms the " human face divine" into the 
 
 vifage of a fiend. Similar to this is the 
 
 fmile of a wicked perfon pleafing himfelf with 
 the hope of accomplifhing his evil purpofes. 
 
 * Ridiculus proprie dieitur qui in rebus turpibus ri- 
 detur. Feftus. 
 
 Milton
 
 328 On Laughter and Ch. !• 
 
 Milton gives a ftriking pidlure of it, in that 
 well-known palTage : 
 
 He ceafed ; for both feem'd highly pleafed, and 
 
 Death 
 Grin'd horrible a ghaftly fmile, to hear 
 His famine fliould be fiU'd, and blefs'd his maw 
 Deilin'd to that good hour. — 
 
 But enough of this. Laughter that makes 
 man a fiend or monfler, I have no inclina- 
 tion to analyfe. My inquiries are confined 
 to *' that fpecies of laughter, v\^hich is at 
 *' once natural and innocent.'* 
 
 Of this there are two forts. The laughter 
 occafioned by tickling or gladnefs is different 
 from that which arifes on reading the Tale of 
 a Tub. The former may be called Animal 
 Laughter : the latter (if it were lawful to a- 
 dopt a new word, which has become very 
 common of late) I fliould term Sentimental. 
 
 Smiles admit of fimilar divifions. Not 
 
 to mention the fcornful, the envious, the 
 malevolent fmile, I would only remark, that 
 of the innocent and agreeable fmile there are 
 two forts. The one proceeds from the rifible 
 emotion, and has a tendency to break out 
 into laughter. The other is the eiFedl of 
 good humour, complacency, and tender af- 
 fedtion. This laft fort of fmile renders a 
 countenance amiable in the higheft degree. 
 Homer afcribes it to Venus, in an epithet *, 
 
 2 which
 
 Ch. I. Ludicrous Composition. 329 
 
 which Dryden and Pope, after Waller, im- 
 properly tranflate laiighter-loving ; an idea 
 that accords better with the character of a 
 romp or hoyden, than with the goddefs of 
 love and beauty. 
 
 Animal laughter admits of various degrees ; 
 from the gentle impulfe excited in a child by 
 moderate joy, to that terrifying, and even 
 mortal convuifion, which has been known 
 to accompany an unexpecled change of for- 
 tune. This paflion may, as well as joy and 
 forrow, be communicated by fympathy * ; 
 and I know not, whether the entertainment 
 we receive from the playful tricks of kittens, 
 and other young animals, may not in part 
 be refolved into fomething like a fellow-feel- 
 ing of their vivacity. Animal and Senti- 
 mental laughter are frequently blended ; but 
 it is eafy to diflinguifli them. The former 
 is often exceffive; the latter never, unlefs 
 heightened by the other. The latter is always 
 pleafing, both in itfelf and in its caufe ; 
 the former may be painful in both. But 
 their principal difference is this : — the one 
 always proceeds from a fentiment or emo- 
 tion,- excited in the mind, in confequsnce 
 of ,certain objects or ideas being prefented to 
 it, of which emotion we may be confcious 
 even when we fupprefs laughter; — the o- 
 ther arifes, not from any fentiment, or per- 
 ception of ludicrous ideas, but from fome 
 
 * Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. loi. 
 
 Vol. IL T t bodily
 
 330 On Laughter and Ch. I. 
 
 bodily feeling, or fudden impulfe, on what 
 is called the animal fpirits, proceeding, or 
 feeming to proceed, from the operation of 
 caufes purely material. The prefent in- 
 quiry regards that fpecies that is here dif- 
 tinguiihed by the name of Sentimental Laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 The pleafing emotion *, arifing from the 
 view of ludicrous ideas, is known to every 
 one by experience, but, being a fimple feel- 
 ing, admits not of definition. It is to be 
 diftinguiflied from the laughter that generally 
 attends it, as forrow is to be diflinguifhed 
 from tears ; for it is often felt in a high degree 
 by thofe who are remarkable for gravity of 
 countenance. Swift feldom laughed; not- 
 withflanding his uncommon talents in wit 
 ^nd humour, and the extraordinary delight 
 he feems to have had in furveying the ri- 
 diculous fide of things. Why this agreeable 
 emotion fliould be accompanied with laugh- 
 ter as Its outward fign, or forrow exprefs it- 
 felf by tears, or fear by trembling and pale- 
 nefs, I cannot ultimately explain, otherwife 
 than by faying, that fuch is the appointment 
 
 of the Author of Nature. All I mean by 
 
 this inquiry is, to determine, What is 
 
 PECULIAR TO THOSE THINGS WHICH PRO- 
 
 * This emotion I fometimes call the Rifible Emotion^ 
 and fometimes the Ludicrous Senti-tnent ; terms that may 
 be fufficiently intelligible, though perhaps they are not 
 accpvding to ftri^l: analogy. 
 
 YOKE
 
 Cli. I. Ludicrous Composition. 331 
 
 YOKE Laughter; — or, rather, which 
 raise in the mind that pleasing 
 sentiment or emotion whereof 
 Laughter is the external sign. 
 
 L Philorophers have differed in their o- 
 pinions concerning this matter. Ariftotle, in 
 the fifth chapter of his Poetics, obferves of 
 Comedy, that " it imitates thofe vices or 
 *' meanneffes only which partake of the ri- 
 ** diculous : — now the Ridiculous (fays he) 
 *' confifts in fome fault or turpitude not at- 
 *' tended with great pain, and not deftruc- 
 *' tive." It is clear, that Ariftotle here means 
 to chara6lerife, not laughable qualities in 
 general, (as fome have thought), but the ob- 
 jedls of Comic Ridicule only; and in this 
 view the definition is juft, however it may 
 have been overlooked or defpifed by Comic 
 writers. Crimes and misfortunes are often 
 in modern plays, and were fometimes in the 
 ancient, held up as objects of public merri- 
 ment ; but if poets had that reverence for na- 
 ture which they ought to have, they would 
 not iliock the common fenfe of mankind by 
 fo abfurd a reprefentation. I wifli our wri- 
 ters of comedy and romance would in this 
 refpecl imitate the delicacy of their anceflors, 
 the honeft and brave favages of old Ger'- 
 many, of whom the hiftorian fays, *' Ne- 
 ** mo vitia ridet ; nee corrumpere et cor- 
 ** rumpi feculum vocatur *." The defi- 
 
 ■* Tacitus, de moribus Germanoruiii, cap. 19. 
 
 T t 2 nition
 
 332 On Laughter and Ch. I. 
 
 nition from Ariftotle does not, however, fuit 
 the general nature of ludicrous ideas ; for it 
 ■will appear by and by, that men laugh at 
 that in which there is neither fault nor 
 turpitude of any kind. 
 
 II. The theory of Mr Hobbes would hard- 
 ly have deferved notice, if Addifon had not 
 fpoken of it with approbation in the forty- 
 feventh paper of the Spcclator. *' The paf- 
 " fion of laughter (fays Mr Hobbes) is no- 
 " thing elfe, but fudden glory arifing from 
 *' fome fudden conception of fome emi- 
 " nency in ourf elves by comparifon with 
 " the infirmity of others, or with our own 
 *' formerly. For men (continues he) laugh 
 " at the follies of themfelves pad, when they 
 *' come fuddenly to remembrance, except 
 " they bring with them any prefent dif- 
 " honour." Addilbn juftly obferves, after 
 quoting thefe words, that " according to 
 " this account, wdien we hear a man laugh 
 " exceflively, inftead of faying, that he is 
 *' very merry, we ought to tell him, that 
 " he is very proud." It is ftrange, that 
 the elegant author lliould be aware of this 
 confequence, and yet admit the theory ; for 
 fo good a judge of human nature could not 
 be ignorant, that Laughter is not coniidered 
 as a lign of pride ; perfons of lingular gra- 
 yity being often fufpeclHied of that vice, but 
 great laughers feldom or never. When we 
 fee a man attentive to the innocent humours 
 of a merry company, and yet maintain a fix- 
 ed
 
 Ch. I. Ludicrous Composition. -^^^ 
 
 ed folemnity of countenance, is it natural 
 for us to think, that he is the humbleft, and 
 the only humble perfon, in the circle ? 
 
 Another writer in the Speculator, N° 249. 
 remarks, in confirmation of this theory, that 
 the 'vaineji part of mankind are mod addict- 
 ed to the paffion of laughter. Now, how 
 can this be, if the prrjudejl part of mankind 
 are alfo moft addicfted to it, unlefs we fup- 
 pofe vanity and pride to be the fame thing ? 
 But they are certainly different paffions. The 
 proud man defpifes other men, and derives 
 his chief pleafure from the contemplation of 
 his own importance : the vain man Hands 
 in need of the applaufe of others, and can- 
 not be happy without it. Pride is apt to be 
 referved and fullen; vanity is often affable, 
 and officioufly obliging. The proud man is 
 fo confident of his merit, and thinks it fo 
 obvious to all the world, that he will fcarce 
 give himfelf the trouble to inform you of it : 
 the vain man, to raife your admiration, 
 fern pies not to tell you, not only the whole 
 truth, but even a great deal more. In the 
 fame perfon thefe two paffions may, no 
 doubt, be united : but fbme men are too 
 proud to be vain, and fome vain men are 
 too confcious of their own weaknefs to be 
 proud. Be all this, however, as it will, 
 we have not as yet made any difcovery of 
 the caufe of laughter ; in regard to which, I 
 apprehend that the vain are not more intem- 
 perate
 
 334 ^^ Laughter and Ch. I. 
 
 perate than other people ; and I am fure that 
 the proud are much lefs fo. 
 
 The inftances brought by Addifon, in fa- 
 vour of this theory of Mr Hobbes ; — of 
 *' great men formerly keeping in their re- 
 " tinue a perfon to laugh at, who whs by 
 " profeiTion a fool; — of Dutchmen being 
 " diverted with the fign of the gaper; — of 
 *' the mob entertaining themfelves with Jack 
 *' Puddings, whofe humour lies in commit- 
 *' ting blunders; — and of the amufement 
 *' that fome people find in making as many 
 *' April fools as polTible * :" — thefe inftan- 
 ces, I fay, may prove the truth of the di- 
 flich, quoted by our author from Dennis, 
 who tranflates it from Boileau, 
 
 Thus one fool lolls his tongue out at another. 
 And iliakes his empty noddle at his brother. 
 
 — But I cannot fee how they fliould prove, 
 that laughter is owing to pride, or to a feofe 
 of our fuperiority over the ludicrous object. 
 Great men are as merry now when they do 
 not keep profeiTed jefters, as they were for- 
 merly when they did. The gaper may be a 
 common fign at Amfterdam, as the Sara- 
 cen's head is in England, without being the 
 ftanding jeft of the country, or indeed any 
 jeft at all. The Jack Pudding is confidered, 
 even by the mob, as more rogue than fool ; 
 
 * See Spe(Slator, Numb. 47. 
 
 and
 
 Ch. I. Ludicrous Composition. 335 
 
 and they who attend the ftage of the itine- 
 rant phy{ician, do for the mofl part regard 
 both the mailer and the fervant as perfons of 
 extraordinary abiUties. And as to the wag 
 who amufes himfelf on the firft of April with 
 telling lies, he muft be fhallow indeed, if he 
 hope by fo doing to acquire any fuperiori- 
 ty over another man, whom he knows to 
 be wifer and better than himfelf; for on 
 thefe occafions, the greatnefs of the joke, and 
 the loudnefs of the laugh, are, if 1 rightly 
 remember, in exa6l proportion to the iaga- 
 city of the perfon impofed on. What our 
 author, in the fame paper, fays of Butts in 
 converfation, makes rather againll his theory 
 than for it. No man, who has any preten- 
 fions to good manners, to common under- 
 Handing, or even to common humanity, will 
 ever think of making a butt of that perfon 
 who has neither fenfe nor fpirit to defend 
 himfelf. Sir John FalftafF would not have 
 excelled fo much in this characfler, if he 
 had not equally excelled in warding off and 
 retorting raillery. The truth is, the butt of 
 the company is generally known to be one 
 of the wittieft and befl-humoured perfons 
 in it ; fo that the mirth he may diffufe a- 
 round him cannot be fuppofed to arife from 
 his apparent inferiority. 
 
 If Laughter aroie from pride, and that 
 pride from a fadden conception of fbme pre- 
 fent eminency in ourfelves, compared with 
 Others, or compared with ourfelves as we 
 
 were
 
 336 On Laughter and Ch. I. 
 
 were formerly ; it would follow, — that the 
 wife, the beautiful, the ftrong, the healthy, 
 and the rich, muft giggle away a great part 
 of their lives, becaufe they would every now 
 and then become fuddenly fenfible of their 
 fuperiority over the foolifh, the homely, the 
 feeble, the fickly, and the poor; — that one 
 would never recolle6l the tranfadlions of 
 one's childhood, or the abfurdity of one's 
 dreams, without merriment; — that in the 
 company of our equals we fhould always be 
 grave; — and that Sir Ifaac Newton m.vift 
 have been the greateft wag of his time. 
 
 That the pailion of laughter, though not 
 properly the effect of pride, does, however, 
 arife from a conception of fome fmall fault 
 or turpitude, or at leafl from fome fancied 
 inferiority, in the ludicrous objedl, has been 
 aiTerted by feveral writers. One would in- 
 deed be apt at firft hearing to reply, that we 
 often fmile at a witty performance or paf- 
 fage, — fuch as Butler's allufion to a boiled 
 lobfter, in his picture of the morning *, — 
 when we are fo far from conceiving any in- 
 feriority or turpitude in the author, that we 
 greatly admire his genius, and willi ourfelves 
 polTeired of that very turn of fancy which 
 produced the drollery in queftion. — 
 
 * The fun had long fince in the lap 
 Of Thetis taken out his nap, 
 And, hke a lobfter boil'd, the morn 
 Fx'om black to jred began to turn. 
 
 5 " But
 
 Ch. I. Ludicrous Composition. 337 
 
 *' But as we may be betrayed into a mo- 
 " mentary belief, that Garrick is really Abel 
 Drugger; fo, it is faid, we may imagine 
 a tranfient inferiority, either real or af- 
 " fumed, even in a perfon whom we ad- 
 " mire; and that, when we fmile at Butler's 
 allufion, we for a moment conceive him 
 to have alTumed the charadler of one who 
 was incapable to difcern the impropriety 
 
 of fuch an odd union of images. We 
 
 fmile at the logic, wherewith Hudibras 
 endeavours to folace himfelf, when he is 
 fet in the ftocks, 
 
 As beards, the nearer that they tend 
 To th* earth, grow flill more reverend ; 
 And cannons (hoot the higher pitches. 
 The lower you let down their breeches, 
 I'll make this prefent abjedt ftate 
 Advance me to a greater height. 
 
 " Here, it is faid, that the laugh arifes from 
 *' our fuppofing the author to alTume for a 
 " moment the characfler of one who, from 
 " his ignorance of the nature of things, and 
 " of the rules of analogical reafoning, does 
 *' not perceive, that the cafe he argues froju 
 ** is totally unlike the cafe he argues to^ 
 *' nor, confequently, that the argument is a 
 " fophifm. — If we irnile at the afs, in the 
 *' fable, fawning upon his mafter, in imita- 
 '* ticn of the fpaniel ; or at the frog puffing 
 ** and fvvelling to ftretch himfelf to the fize 
 Vol. II. U u '* of
 
 -^38 On Laughter and Ch. I. 
 
 ** of the ox, it is (we are told) becaufe we 
 *' perceive fomething fingularly defedlive in 
 *' the paflions or fentiments of thofe animals. 
 *' And a refpe(51:able friend, who entertains 
 *' ns with a merry ftory, is faid to do fo, 
 " either by affuming a momentary inferiori- 
 " ty, or by leading our thoughts to fome 
 " thing in which we feem to difcern fome 
 " fmall fault or turpitude." In proof of 
 this, it is further affirmed, " That we ne- 
 *' ver fmile at fortuitous combinations of i- 
 " deas, qualities, or events, but at thofe 
 *' combinations only that feem to require 
 *' the agency of fome dire6ling mind : — 
 *' whence it is inferred, that where-ever the 
 " ludicrous quality appears, a certain mental 
 *' character is fuppoied to exert itfelf; and 
 " that this chara6ter mull needs imply infe- 
 *' riority, becaufe, from our being fo often 
 *' tempted to fmile by the tricks of buffoons 
 *' and brute animals, it would feem to be 
 " confident neither with fuperiority nor with 
 " equality." 
 
 This theory is more fubtle than folid. Let 
 us lookback to the analogical argument which 
 Butler puts in the mouth of his hero, and 
 which every perfon who has the feelings of a 
 man mufl allow to be laughable. Why is it 
 fo ? Becaufe (fay they) it leads us to difco- 
 ver fome turpitude or deficiency in the au- 
 thor's underl landing. Is this deficiency, then, 
 in the hero Hudibras, or in Butler the poet ? 
 Is it real, or is it aliumed ? It matters not 
 
 which ;
 
 Ch. I. Ludicrous Composition. 
 
 339 
 
 which ; for, though we knew that an idiot 
 had accidentally written it, or that a wrong- 
 headed enthufiaft had ferioully fpoken it, the 
 reafoning would ftill be ludicrous. Is then 
 a trifling argument from analogy a laugh- 
 able object, whether advanced ferioully or 
 in jefl: ? If this be the cafe, it muft be own- 
 ed, that the fentiments of mortal men are 
 ftrangely perverted in thefe latter times ; for 
 that many a volume of elaborate controverfy, 
 inftead of difpofing the gentle reader to flum- 
 ber by its darknefs and duUnefs, ought to 
 have " fet the table in a roar" by its vain 
 and fophiflical analogies. 
 
 Further, I deny not, that all performances 
 in wit and humour are conneclHied with a 
 mind, and lead our thoughts to the per- 
 former as naturally as any other eflecc to its 
 caufe. But do we not fometimcs laugh at 
 fortuitous combinations, in which, as no 
 mental energy is concerned in producing 
 them, there cannot be either fault or turpi- 
 tude ? Could not one imagine a fet of people 
 jumbled together by accident, fo as to pre- 
 fent a laughable group to thofe who know 
 their characters ? If Pope and CoUey Cibber 
 had been fo fqucezed by a croud in the play- 
 houfe, as to be compelled to fit with their 
 heads contiguous, and the arm of one a- 
 bout the neck of the other, expreiTing at the 
 fame time in their looks a mutual antipathy 
 and relu6lance, I believe the fight would 
 have been entertaining enough, efpccially if 
 U u 3 beiisved
 
 340 On Laughter and Ch. I, 
 
 believed to be accidental.- — -i— Our cofFee- 
 houfe-politiciaiis v/ere lately betrayed into 
 a fmile, by one Papirius Curfor, a wag who 
 re?id the news-papers quite acrofs the page, 
 without minding the fpace that diftinguifhes 
 the columns, and fo pretended to light upon 
 fome very amufing combinations. Thefe 
 were no doubt the contrivance of Papirius 
 himfelf ; but, fuppofing them to have been 
 acciiiental, and that the printer had without 
 defign negledled to feparate his columns, I 
 ails, v^hether they would have been lefs ri- 
 diculous ? The joke I fhall allow to be as 
 wretched as you pleafe : but we are not now 
 talking of the delicacies of wit or humour, 
 (which will be touched upon in the fequel), 
 but of thofe combinations of ideas that pro- 
 voke laughter. And here let me beg of the 
 critic, not to take offerice at the familiarity 
 of thefe examples. 1 Ihall apologize for them 
 afterwards. Meantime he will be pleafed to 
 confider, that my fubjecl is a familiar one, 
 and the phenomenon I would account for as 
 frequent among clowns and children as a- 
 moiig philofophers. 
 
 111. Hutchefon has given another account 
 of the ludicrous quality. He feems to think, 
 that " it is the contrafl or oppofition of dig- 
 *' nity and meannefs that occalions laughter." 
 Granting this to be true, (and how far this 
 is true will appear by and by), 1 would ob- 
 ierve, in the firfl place, what the ingeni- 
 ous author fecms to have been aware of, 
 
 that
 
 Ch. I. Ludicrous Composition. 341 
 
 that there may be a mixture of mcannefs 
 and dignity, where there is nothing kidi- 
 crous. A city, confidered as a colle&ion of 
 low and lofty houfes, is no laughable object. 
 Nor was that perfonage either ludicrous or 
 ridiculous, whom Pope fo julily charade- 
 rifes, 
 
 The greateft, wifeft, meaneft, of mankind. 
 
 But, fecondly, cafes might be mention- 
 ed, of laughter ariiing from a group of ideas 
 or objedls, wherein there is no difcernible op- 
 pofition of meannefs and dignity. We are 
 told of the dagger of Hudibras, that 
 
 It could fcrape trenchers, or chip bread. 
 Toad cheefe or bacon, though it were 
 To bait a moufe-trap, 'twould not care ; 
 'Twould make clean fhoes, or in the earth 
 Set leeks and onions, and fo forth. 
 
 The humour of the pafTage cannot arife from 
 the meannefs of thefe oiEces compared with 
 the dignity of the dagger, nor from any op- 
 pofition of meannefs and dignity in the of- 
 fices themfelves, they being all equally mean ; 
 and mufk therefore be owing to fome other 
 peculiarity in the defcription. — We laugh, 
 when a droll mimics the folemnity of a grave 
 perfon ; here dignity and meannefs are in- 
 deed united : but we laugh alfo (though not 
 fo heartily perhaps) when h^ mimics the pe^- 
 
 culiarities
 
 342 On Laughter and Ch. I. 
 
 culiarities of a fellow as infignificant as him- 
 felf, and difplays no oppoiition of dignity 
 and meannefs. — The levities of Saacho Pan- 
 9a oppofed to the folemnity of his mafter, 
 and compared with his own fchemes of pre- 
 ferment, form an entertaining contrail : but 
 fome of the vagaries of that renowned fquire 
 are truly laughable, even when his prefer- 
 ment and his mafter are out of the queftion. 
 — We do not perceive any contraft of mean- 
 nefs and dignity in Miftrefs Quickly, Sir 
 Toby in Tivelfth Nighty the nurfe in Romeo 
 and 'Juliet^ or Autolycus in the Winter s Tale ; 
 vet they are all ludicrous characfters : Dr 
 Harrifon in Fielding's Amelia is never mean, 
 but always refpec5lable ; yet their is a dafli of 
 humour in him, which often betrays the 
 reader into a fmile. — Men laugh at puns ; 
 the wifeft and wittieft of our fpecies have 
 laughed at them ; Queen Elifabeth, Cicero, 
 and Shakefpeare, laughed at them ; clowns 
 and children laugh at them ; and moft men, 
 at one time or other, are inclined to do the 
 fame : — but in this fort of low wit, is it an 
 oppofition of meannefs and dignity that en- 
 tertains us ? Is it not rather a mixture of 
 famenefs and diverfity, — famenefs in the 
 found, and diveriity in the fignification ? 
 
 IV. Akenfide, in the third book of his 
 excellent Poem, treats of Ridicule at confi- 
 derable length. He gives a detail of ridicu- 
 lous charatlers ; ignorant pretenders to learn- 
 ing, — boaftful foldiers, and lying travellers, 
 
 — hypo-
 
 Ch. I. Ludicrous Composition. 343 
 
 — hypocritical churchmen, — conceited po- 
 liticians, — old women that talk of their 
 charms and virtue, — ragged philofophers 
 who rail at riches, — 'virtuofi intent upon 
 trifles, — romantic lovers, — wits wantonly 
 fatirical, — fops that out of vanity affed to 
 be difeafed and profligate, — daftards who 
 are afliamed or afraid without reafon, — and 
 fools who are ignorant of what they ought 
 to know. Thefe characters may no doubt 
 be fet in fuch a light as to move at once our 
 Imighter and contempt ^ and are therefore 
 truly ridiculous^ and fit objecls of comic fa- 
 tire : but the author does not diftinguifh be- 
 tween what is laughable in them and what is 
 contemptible ; fo that we have no reafon to 
 think, that he meant to fpecify the quali- 
 ties peculiar to thofe things that provoke pure 
 laughter. — Having finiihed the detail of cha- 
 racflers, he makes fome general remarks on 
 the caufe of ridicule ; and explains himfelf 
 more fully in a profe definition ilhiflrated 
 by examples. The definition, or rather de- 
 fcription, is in thefe words. " That which 
 makes objecfts ridiculous, is fome ground 
 of admiration or efteem conne(fled with 
 other more general circumffances compa- 
 ratively worthlefs or deformed ; or it is 
 fome circumftance of turpitude or defor- 
 mity connedled with what is in general 
 excellent or beautiful : the inconfiftent 
 properties exifling either in the objed:s 
 themfelveS;, or in the apprehenfion of the 
 
 " perfon
 
 344 ^N Laughter and Ch. L 
 
 perfon to whom they relate ; belonging. 
 always to the fame order or clafs of be- 
 ing ; implying fentiment and defign ; and 
 exciting no acute or vehement emotion of 
 the heart." — Whatever account we make 
 of this definition, which to thofe who ac- 
 quiefce in the foregoing reafonings may per- 
 haps appear not quite fatisfaclory, there is 
 in the poem a pafFage that deferves particular 
 notice, as it feems to contain a more exa(5l ac- 
 count of the ludicrous quality, than is to be 
 found in any of the theories above mention-? 
 ed. This pafTage will be quoted in the next 
 chapter. 
 
 CHAP. IL 
 
 Laughter feems to arife from the 
 view of things incongruous united 
 in the fame affemblage ; I. By 
 Juxta-pofition ; IL As Caufe and 
 Effed; I IL By Comparifon found- 
 ed on SimiUtude ; or, IV. Uni- 
 ted fo as to exhibit an oppofition 
 of Meannefs and Dignity. 
 
 H 
 
 OwEVER imperfedl thefe Theories may 
 appear, there is none of them deflitute 
 2 of
 
 Gil. II. Ludicrous Composition. 345 
 
 of merit : and indeed the mod fanciful pin- 
 lofopher feldom frames a theory, without 
 confulting nature, in fome of her more ob- 
 vious appearances. Laughter very frequent- 
 ly arifes from the view of dignity and mean- 
 nefs united in the fame objecl ; fometimes, 
 no doubt, from the appearance of ailumed 
 inferiority *, as well as of finall faults and. 
 unimportant turpitudes ; and fometimes, 
 perhaps, though rarely, from that fort of 
 pride, which is defcribed in the pailage 
 quoted from Mr Hobbes by Addifon. 
 
 All thefe accounts agree in this, that the 
 caufe of laughter is Ibmething compound- 
 ed ; or fomething that difpofes the mind to 
 form a comparifon, by paflmg from one ob- 
 j-ecfl or idea to another. That this is in 
 fa6l the cafe, cannot be proved a priori ; 
 but this holds in all the examples hitherto 
 given, and v/ill be found to hold in ail that 
 are given hereafter. IVlay it not then be 
 laid down as a principle, that " Laughter 
 *' arifes from the view of two or more ob- 
 " jecfls or ideas, difpofing the mind to form 
 " a comparifon ?'' According to the theory 
 
 * Pope, Arbuthnot, and Swift, in fome of their moft 
 humourous pieces, aflume the chara^er, and aifect the 
 ignorance, of Grubftreet writers ; and from this cir- 
 cumftmce part ot the humour of fuch papers will per- 
 haps be found to arife. *' Valde liiec ridentur (fiys Ci- 
 *' cero) quae a prudentibus, qu.ifi per difllmiilationcni 
 " non intelligendi, fulabfurde falfcque dicuntur." De^ 
 Orat. II. 68. 
 
 , Vol. IL X x of
 
 34^ On Laughter and Ch. II. 
 
 of Hobbes, this comparifon would be be- 
 tween tlie ludicrous obje6l and ourfelves ; ac- 
 cording to thofe writers who mifapply A- 
 riftotle's definition, it would feem to be form- 
 ed between the ludicrous objecl and other 
 things or perfons in general ; and if we in- 
 cline to Huchefon's theory, which is the 
 bed of the three, we fliall think that there 
 is a comparifon of the parts of the ludicrous 
 object, firil with one another, and fecondly 
 with ideas or things extraneous. 
 
 Further : Every appearance that is made 
 up of parts, or that leads the mind of the 
 beholder to form a comparifon, is not lu- 
 dicrous. The body of a man or woman, of 
 a horfe, a filh, or a bird, is not ludicrous, 
 though it conlifls of many parts ; — and it 
 may be compared to many other things with- 
 out railing laughter : but the pi(5lure de- 
 fcribed in the beginning of the hpiftle to 
 the Pifoes, with a man's head, a horfe's neck, 
 feathers of different birds, limbs of different 
 beaiis, and the tail of a fifh, would have 
 been thought ludicrous eighteen hundred 
 years ago, if we believe Horace, and in cer- 
 tain circumitances v>rould no doubt be fo at 
 this day. It would feem then, that ** the 
 " parts of a laughable iffemblage muft be in 
 ** fome degree unfliitable and heterogeneous.'* 
 Moreover : Any one of the parts of the 
 Horadan monfler, a human head, a horfe's 
 neck, the tail of a fiih, or the plumage 
 of a fowl, is not ludicrous in itfelf; nor 
 
 would
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 347 
 
 would thofe feveral parts be ludicrous, if at- 
 tended to in fucceirion, without any view 
 to their union. For to fee them difpofed on 
 different llielves of a mufeum, or even on the 
 fame fhelf, no body would laugh, except 
 perhaps the thought of uniting them were to 
 occur to his fancy, or the pallage of Horace 
 to his memory. It feems to follow, " that 
 *' the incongruous parts of a laughable idea 
 *' or objed: muft either be combined fo as to 
 ** form an affemblage, or mult be fuppofed 
 *' to be fo combined." 
 
 ,. May we not then conclude, that *' Laugh- 
 ** ter arifes from the vievv of two or more 
 *' inconfiftent, unfuitable, or incongruous 
 " parts or circumftances, confidered as u- 
 *' nited in one complex objecl or aifem- 
 " blage, or as acquiring a fort of mutual re- 
 *' lation from the peculiar manner in which 
 *' the mind takes notice of them ?" The lines 
 *' from Akenfide, formerly referred to, feem 
 *' to point at the fame do(5lrine : 
 
 Where-e'er the power of Ridicule difplays 
 
 Her quaint-eyed vifage, fome Incongruous fofm^ 
 
 . Some Jiubborn diff'onance of things combined y 
 
 ^Strikes on the quick obferver. 
 
 And, to the fame purpofe, the learned and 
 ingenious Dr Gerard, in his EJfay on Tafte : 
 ** The fenfe of Ridicule is gratiiied by an 
 *' inconfiftence and dilTonance of circum- 
 '* fiances in the fame objecl, or in objeds 
 X X 2 " nearly
 
 <fi 
 
 34^ 
 
 On Laughter akd Ch. IL 
 
 " nearly related in the main ; or by a fimili- 
 " tude or relation unexpecftcd between things 
 ^' on the whole oppofite and unlike." 
 
 And therefore, infkead of faying with 
 Hnchefon, that the caufe or obje(5l of laugh- 
 ter is an " oppofition of dignity and mean- 
 " nefs ;" — I would fay, in more general 
 terms, that it is, " an oppofition of fuit- 
 *' ablenefs and unfultablenefs, or of rela- 
 " tion and the want of relation, united, or 
 " fu ppofed to be united, in the fame affem- 
 *' blage." — Thus the offices afcribed to the 
 dagger of Hudibras feem quite heteroge- 
 neous ; but we difcover a bond of connedion 
 ^among them, when we are told, that the 
 fame weapon could occaiionally perform them 
 all, — Thus, even in that mimicry, which 
 difplays no oppofition of dignity and mean- 
 nefs, we perceive the actions of one man 
 joined to the features and body af another ; 
 that is, a mixture of unfuitablenefs, or want 
 of relation, ariling from the difference of 
 perfons, with congruity and fimilitude, a- 
 rilino; from the faaienefs of the actions. — 
 Thus, at firfl view, the dawn of the morn- 
 ing, and a boiled lobfter, feem utterly in- 
 congruous, unlike, and (as Biondeilo fa:ys 
 of i-'etruchio's llirrups) " of no kindred ;" 
 but w^hen a change of colour from black to 
 reel is fuggefled, we recognize a likenefs, and 
 coiifequently a relation, or ground of com- 
 paiHfon. 
 
 And here le: it be obfervcd in general, 
 
 thai:^
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 349 
 
 tliat, the greater the number of incongrui- 
 ties that are blended in the fame affemblage, 
 the more ludicrous it will probably be. If, 
 as in the laft example, there be an oppofi- 
 tion of dignity and meannefs, as well as of 
 likeaefs and diffimilitude, the effecft of the 
 contrail will be more powerful, than if only 
 one of thefe oppoiitions had appeared in the 
 ludicrous idea. — The fublimity of Don 
 Quixote's mind contrafled and connected with 
 his miferable equipage, forms a very comi- 
 cal exhibition ; but when all this is flill fur- 
 ther connected and contrafted with Sancho 
 Panca, the ridicule is heightened exceeding- 
 ly. Had the knight of the lions been bet- 
 ter mounted and accoutred, he would not 
 have made us fmile fo often ; becauib, the 
 hero's mind and circumftances being more 
 adequately matched, the whole group would 
 have united fewer inconfiftencies, and re- 
 conciled fewer incongruities. No particu- 
 lar in this equipment is without its ufc. The 
 afs of Sancho and the horfe of his mailer ; 
 the knight tall and raw-boned, the fquire 
 fat and iborc ; the one brave, folemn, ge- 
 nerous, learned, and courteous, the other not 
 lefs remarkable for cowardice, levity, fcifiili- 
 nefs, ignorance, and ruflicity ; the one ab- 
 furdly enamoured of an ideal miltrefs, tiic 
 other ridiculoufly fond of his als ; the one 
 devoted to glory, the Other endavcd to lus 
 belly : — it is not eafy, out of two perfons, 
 to make up a mtorc muldfarioHS contraR. 
 
 Butler
 
 350 On Laughter and Ch. IL 
 
 Butler has however combined a flill greater 
 variety of uncouth and jarring circumftances 
 in Ralpho and Hudibras ; but the pidlure, 
 though more elaborate, is lefs natural. Yet 
 this argues no defect of judgement. His 
 defign was, to make his hero not only ludi- 
 crous, but contemptible ; and therefore he 
 jumbles together, in his equipage and per- 
 fon, a number of mean and difgufling qua- 
 lities, pedantry, ignorance, nailinefs, and 
 extreme deformity. But the knight of La 
 Mancha, though a ludicrous, was never in- 
 tended for a contemptible perfonage. He 
 often moves our pity, he never forfeits our 
 efleem ; and his adventures and fentiments 
 are generally interefting : which could not 
 have been the cafe, if his ftory had not been 
 natural, and himfelf endowed with great as 
 well as good qualities. To have given him 
 fuch a fliape, and fuch weapons, arguments, 
 boots, and breeches, as Butler has bellowed 
 on his champion, would have deilroyed that 
 foiemnity, which is fo ftriking a feature in 
 Don Qiiixote : and Hudibras, with the man- 
 ners and perfon of the Spanilli hero, would 
 not have been that paltry figure, which the 
 Englilli poet meant to hold up to the laugh- 
 ter and contempt of his countrymen. — Sir 
 Launcelot Greaves is of Don Quixote's kin- 
 (h'ed, but a different charader Smollet's de- 
 fign was, not to expofe him to ridicule ; but 
 rather to recommend him to oar pity and 
 admiration. He has therefore given him 
 
 youth.
 
 (^h. II. Ludicrous Composition. 351 
 
 youth, ftrength, and beauty, as well as cou- 
 rage, and dignity of mind, has mounted him 
 on a generous (teed, and arrayed him in an 
 elegant iuit of armour. Yet, that the hi- 
 ftory might have a comic air, he has been 
 careful to contraft and connecfl Sir Laun- 
 celot with a fquire and other allociates of 
 very diflimilar tempers and circumflances. 
 
 What has been faid of the caufe of laugh- 
 ter does not amount to an exadil defcription, 
 far lefs to a logical definition : there being 
 innumerable combinations of congraity and 
 inconfiftency, of relation and contrariety, of 
 likenefs and difhmilitude, which are not lu- 
 dicrous at all. If we could afcertain the pe- 
 culiarities of thefe, w^e fliould be able to 
 characflerife witli more accuracy the general 
 nature of ludicrous combination. But be- 
 fore we proceed to this, it would be proper 
 to evince, that of the prefent theory thus 
 much at lead is true, that though every 'in- 
 congruous combination is not ludicrous, e- 
 very ludicrous combination is incongruous. 
 
 It is only by a detail of facfts or examples, 
 that any theory of this fort can be either efta-*- 
 blifhed or overthrown. By fuch a detail, 
 the foregoing theories have been, or may be, 
 fhown to be ill-founded, or not fafficiently 
 comprehenfive. A fingle inftance of a laugh- 
 able objecl, which neither unites, nor is 
 fuppofed to unite incongruous ideas, would 
 iikewife fliow the infufficiency of the prefent : 
 nor will I undertake to prove, (for indeed I 
 
 cannot),
 
 0^ 
 
 On Laughter and Ch. If. 
 
 cannot), that no fach inftance can be given. 
 A complete enumeration of ludicrous objedts 
 it would be vain to attempt : and therefore 
 we can never hope to afcertain, beyond the 
 pofTibility of doubt, that common quahty 
 which belongs to all ludicroui. ideas that are, 
 or have been, or may be imagined. All that 
 can be done in a cafe of this kind is to prove, 
 l^y a variety of examples, that the theory now 
 propofed is more compreheniive, and better 
 founded, than any of the foregoing. 
 
 Many are the modes of combination by 
 ■u^hich incongruous qualities may be pre- 
 fenteci to the eye^ or to the fancy, fo as to 
 provoke laughter : and of incongruity itfelf, 
 of as falfehood, the forms mav be diverfified 
 without end. An cxaH arrangement of ludi- 
 crous examples is therefore as unattainable as 
 a complete enumeration. Something, however, 
 of this fort we muft attempt, to avoid run- 
 ning into confuhon. 
 
 I. One of the fimplefl modes of combina- 
 tion, is that which arifes from Contiguity. 
 Things incongruous are often laughable, when 
 united as parts of a fyftem, or limply nvhen 
 
 f laced together. That dialogue of Eraf- 
 
 jTius, called Abfiirda, which looks like a con- 
 verfation between two deaf men, feems to 
 be an attem^pt to raife laughter, by the mere 
 juxta-pofition of unconne6led fentences. But 
 the attempt is rather unfaccefsful ; this fort 
 of crofs-purpofes being too obvious, and too 
 little furprifmg, to yield entertainment. 
 
 2 I. A-
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. ^^^ 
 
 1. Arlftotle, Cicero, and Quintilian, all 
 admit, that bodily fingularities maybe laugh- 
 able * ; and, according to the firfl of thefe 
 authors, that is a ridiculous countenance, in 
 which there is deformity and dillortion with- 
 out dillrefs. Any feature, particularly one 
 of the middle features, a nofe, a mouth, or 
 a chin, uncommonly large, may, when at- 
 tended with no inconvenience, tempt one 
 to fmile ; as appears from the effect of cari- 
 catura in painting. We read in the Specta- 
 tor f, of a number of men with long chins, 
 whom a wag at Bath invited to dine with 
 him ; and are told, that a great deal of mirth 
 palTed on the occafion. Here was a collection 
 of incongruities related not only by mutual 
 fimilitude, but alfo by juxta-pofition ; a cir- 
 cumflance that would naturally heighten the 
 ludicrous effect. Yet here was no mixture 
 of dignity and meannefs ; and the meeting, 
 if it had been accidental, would not have been 
 lefs laughable. 
 
 2. A country- dance of men and women, 
 like thofe exhibited bv Hos^arth in his Ana- 
 lyfis of Beauty^ could hardly fail to make a 
 beholder merry, whether he believed their 
 union to be the ciTed: of defign, or of acci- 
 dent. Moft of thofe perfons have incongrui- 
 
 * Arift. Poet. § 5.-, Cicero de Orat. ii. 239.5 Quiiit. 
 Inft. Or. vi. 3. 
 
 f Number 371, 
 
 Vol. II. Y y tijs
 
 3^4 ^^ Laughter and Ch. II, 
 
 ties of their own, in their fhape, drefs, or 
 attitude, and all of them are incongruous 
 in refpe(51: of one another ; thus far the af^ 
 femblage difplays contrariety or want of re- 
 lation : and they are all united in the fame 
 piactj niid in the fame dance ; and thus far 
 they are mutually related. And if we fup- 
 pofe the two elegant figures removed, which 
 might be done without leflening the ridicule, 
 we lliould not eafily difcern any contrafl of 
 dignity and meannefs in the group that re- 
 mains. 
 
 3. Almoft the fame remarks might be made 
 on The Enraged Mufician^ another piece of the 
 fame great mafter, of which a witty author 
 quaintly fays, that it deafens one to look at it. 
 This extraordinary group forms a very co- 
 mical mixture of incongruity and relation; 
 ■ — of incongn^ity, owing to the difTmiilar 
 emplovinents and appearances of the feveral 
 perions, and to the variety and diflbnance 
 of their refpeclive noiles ; — and of re- 
 lation, owing to their being all united in 
 the fame place, and for the fame purpofe, 
 of tormenting the poor fiddler. From the 
 various founds co-operating to this one end, 
 the piece becomes more laughable, than if 
 their mxceting were conceived to be without 
 any particular deflination; for the greater 
 the number of relations, as well as of con- 
 trarietieSj that take place in any ludicrous 
 aflemblage, the more ludicrous it will gene- 
 rally appear. Yet though this group com- 
 prehends
 
 Ch. IL Ludicrous Composition. 355 
 
 prehends not any mixture of meannefs and 
 dignity, it would, 1 think, be allowed to be 
 laughable to a certain degree, merely from 
 the juxta-pofition of the objecfls, even though 
 it were fuppofed to be accidental. 
 
 Groups of this fort, if accurately defcribed, 
 are no doubt entertaining, when expreifed in 
 words, as well as when prefented to the eye 
 by means of colour. But it would require 
 many words to do juftice to fo great a variety 
 of things and perfons ; which therefore could 
 not be apprehended by the mind, but gra- 
 dually and in fuccelTion ; and hence the jar- 
 ring coincidencies of the whole would be 
 lefs difcernible in a poetical defcription, than 
 in a print or picfture. The ludicrous effedl, 
 that arifes from the mere contiguity of the 
 objedls, may therefore be better exemplified 
 by vifible aflemblages delineated by the 
 painter, than by fuch as are conveyed to 
 the mind by verbal defcription *. Yet even 
 
 by 
 
 * But it does not follow, that Painting is a more co- 
 pious fource of Rifible emotion, than thofe arts are which 
 afFeft the mind by means of language. Painting is no 
 doubt more lively in defcription than Poetry : and, by 
 prefenting a whole compolition to the eye at once, may 
 rtrike the mind with a more diverlified and more empha- 
 tical impulfe. "What we fee, too, we apprehend more 
 ealily than what we only conceive from narration : 
 
 Segnius irritant animos demilTa per aurem, 
 Quam quse funt oculis fubjefta fidelibus, ct quse 
 Ipfc libi trad it fpeclator. 
 
 Y y 2 But
 
 356 On Laughter and Ch. IL 
 
 by this vehicle, burlefque combinations may- 
 be fuggefted to the fancy, which in part 
 derive the kidicrous character from the juxta- 
 pcjfition of the component parts. Take an ex- 
 ample or two. 
 
 4. " If a man (fays the Tatler^ fpeaking 
 " of the utility of advertifements) has pains 
 *' in his head, colics in his bowels, or fpots 
 *' in his cloaths, he may there meet with 
 " proper cures and remedies. If a man 
 *' would recover a wife, or a horfe that is 
 *' ftolen or ftrayed ; if he wants new fer- 
 *' mons, elecftuaries, or alTes milk, or any 
 " thing elfe, either for his body or his mind, 
 " this is the place to look for them in *." 
 
 5. He fung of Taffy Welch, and Sawney Scot, 
 Liilibullero, and the Irifli trot ; 
 
 The bower of Rofamond, and Robin Hood, 
 And how the grafs now grows where Troy 
 town flood J 
 
 But the defcriptlYe powers of painting are fubject to many 
 limitations. It cannot mark the progrefs of a£lion or 
 thought, becaufe it exhibits the events of one inftant of 
 time ; nor has it any exprellion lor intellectual notions, 
 nor for thofe calmer affc(^ions of the loul that produce 
 no vifiblc change on the body. But Poetry can de- 
 fcribe every energy of mind, and phenomenon of matter •, 
 and every variety, however minute, of character, fen- 
 timent, and paflion, as it appears in each period of its 
 progrefs. And innumerable combinations, both of fub- 
 lime and of ludicrous ideas there are, which the pencil 
 cannot trace out, but which are eafily conveyed to the 
 mind by fpeech or writing. 
 
 * Tatler, Numb. 224. 
 
 Then
 
 «» 
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 357 
 
 Then he was feiz'd with a religious qualm, 
 And on a fudden fung the hundredth pfalm *. 
 
 6. Incongruous ideas, related by contigu- 
 ity, do fometimes acquire a clofer connedlion, 
 and may become more laughable, when their 
 names being made equally dependent upon 
 one and the fame verb, confer on it two or 
 more incongruous fignifications. 
 
 " It is obfervable, (fays Pope of Prince 
 " Eugene), that this general is a great taker 
 of fnuff, a6 well as of towns f ." 
 
 An 
 
 (( 
 
 * Gay's Paftorals. See Rape of the Lock, ii. 105. to 
 no. 
 
 f Key to the Lock. In all wit of this fort, when 
 
 laughter is intended, it will perhaps be neceirary to blend 
 greatnefs with littlenefs, or to form fome other glaring 
 contraft. Ovid and Cowley are fond of thefe quaint 
 conceits, but feldom raife a fmile by them, and furely 
 did not intend any. 
 
 Conllliis non curribus utere noflrls. 
 
 Metamorph. lib. 2. 
 
 And not my chariot, but my counfel take. Addifon. 
 
 But now the early birds began to call 
 
 The morning forth : iiprofe the Sun and Saul. 
 
 Davideis. 
 
 *' A horfe (fays a certain ferious, but flowery author) 
 '* may throw his rider, and at once dafh his body againft 
 *' the ftones, and his foul into the other world." 
 
 Such witticifm in a ferious work is offenfive to a reader 
 of tafte, (fee Kurd's Commentary on the Epiltle to Au- 
 
 guftus.
 
 358 On Laughter akd Ch. IL 
 
 An opporulon of dignity and meannefs, or 
 of greatnefs and littlenefs, is no doubt ob- 
 fervable in thefe examples. Yet delcription 
 may fometimes be laughable, when the ideas 
 or phrafes are related by juxta-poiition only, 
 and imply no perceptible contraft of dignity 
 and meannefs. Swift's Inventory or his 
 houfehoid-ftufF, " An oaken broken elbow- 
 " chair, "A caudle-cup without an ear," 8cc, 
 is truly laughable; at lead we are lure that 
 he thought it fo : the 'various and diJfii-vJar 
 articles fpecified in it are fimilar and unifonn 
 in this one refpedt, that they are all worn 
 out, imperfecft, or ufelefs ; but their mean- 
 nefs is without any mixture of dignity. 
 
 Sancho*s Proverbs often provoke a fmile ; 
 not becaufe fome are low and others ele- 
 vated, but becaufe, though unconneded both 
 with the fubjedl and with one another, tney 
 happen to be fpoken at the fame time, and 
 
 abfurdly applied to the fame purpole. • 
 
 I have heard that mirth inay be promoted a- 
 mongft idle people by the following expedi- 
 ent. On the top of a page of paper, one of 
 the company writes a line, which he covers 
 with a book; another adds a fecond, and 
 conceals it in the fame manner; and tnus the 
 paper goes from hand to hand, till it be full,. 
 
 guftus, verf. 97-) 5 — and we are not apt to lattgh at that 
 which oftends us. To the author it is prohabiy the oh- 
 jeft of admiration, and we feldom laugh at what wc great- 
 
 •y admire. 
 
 no
 
 i('n. II. Ludicrous Composition. 359 
 
 iio body knowing wliat the others have 
 written : then the covering is taken ofF, and 
 the whole read over, as if it were a con- 
 tinued difcourfe. Here the principal bond of 
 union is juxta-pofition ; and yet, though u- 
 nited by this alone, and though accidentally 
 united, the incongruities may be laughable; 
 though no doubt the joke would be height- 
 ened, if there fhould alfo happen to be a mix- 
 ture of meannefs and dignity. And the 
 fame thing will be found to hold true of thofe 
 mufical contrivances called 7?2edleys. 
 
 7. Even when art is not ufed to dif- 
 unite them, human thoughts under no re- 
 ftraint are apt to become ridiculouily wild 
 and incongruous. When his mind unbends 
 itfelf in a reverie, and, without attending 
 to any particular object, permits the ideas 
 to appear and glide away according to the 
 caprice of undirected fancy, the gravefc phi- 
 lofopher would be Ihy of giving permanence 
 to fuch a jumble by fpeech or writing*; 
 left by its odd incongruities it Ihould raife a 
 laugh at his expence, and fhow that his 
 thoughts were not quite fo regular as he wiih- 
 ed the world to believe. We need not then 
 wonder, that, when perfons of light minds 
 are made to think aloud upon the Hage, their 
 rhapiodies fhould prove fo entertaining. Ju- 
 liet's Nurfe^ and Mrs ^lickly, are chara6lers 
 of this ibrt. And we meet with many fuch 
 
 * Seethe Spe^atcr, Nunib. 225. 
 
 in
 
 360 On Laughter and Ch. f^^s 
 
 in real life; whofe ravings are laughable, 
 even when they exhibit no mixture of mean- 
 nefs and dignity, and when mere juxta-po- 
 fit'ion is the chief bond of union among their 
 ideas. 
 
 II. The mind naturally confiders as part 
 of the fame affemblage, and joins together 
 in one view, thofe obje6ls that appear in the 
 relation of caufe and effeft. Hence when 
 things, in other refpedts unrelated or mcon- 
 gruous^ are found or fuppC;fed to be thus re- 
 lated^ they fometimes provoke laughter. 
 
 1. " Really, Madam, (fays Filch in the 
 *' Beggar s opera) ^ I fear I fhall be cut off 
 ** in the flower of my youth ; fo that every 
 " now and then, fince I was pumpt^ I have 
 ** thoughts of taking up and going to fea^ 
 
 It is the caufe of this refolution that 
 
 makes it ludicrous. One fort of water fug- 
 gerts another to the thief's fancy ; and the 
 frefh- water pump puts him in mind of a ii- 
 milar implement belonging to fhips. There 
 is fomething unexpecfled, and incongruous, 
 in the thought, and at the fame time an ap- 
 pearance of natural connecflion. 
 
 2. There is a fort of Ironical Reafoning, 
 not eafily defcribed, which would feem to 
 derive the ludicrous characfter from a fur- 
 priiing mixture of Plauiibility and Abfurdi- 
 ty : and which, on account of the real dis- 
 agreement, though feeming aflinity, of the 
 conclufion confidered as the effect^ with the 
 premiiTes coniidered as the caufe^ may not 
 
 2 improperly
 
 Ch. 11. Ludicrous Composition. 361 
 
 improperly be referred to this head ; though 
 perhaps, from the real di/fmiilitude^ and lui- 
 expedled appearance of liktnefs^ in the cir- 
 cumftances whereon the argument is found- 
 ed, it might with equal propriety be refer- 
 red to the following. Several humorous ex- 
 amples of this kind of fophiftry may be feen 
 in that excellent Engliih ballad called The 
 tippling Philojbphers. Hudibras alfo abounds 
 in it. Such are the lines already quoted, in 
 which he draws comfort from the difafter 
 of being fet in the flocks ; and fuch are thofe 
 well-known pafTages, that prove morality to 
 be a crime, and Honour to lodge in that 
 part of the human body where it is mofl li- 
 able to be wounded by a kick ** 
 
 3. A caufe and effedl extremely inadequate 
 to each other form a ludicrous combination. 
 We fmile at the child (in ^larks's Emblems) 
 attempting to blow out the fun with a pair 
 of bellows. Nor is it much lefs ridiculous 
 to fee heroes, in a tragedy or opera, breath- 
 ing their laft in a long-winded fimilitude^ 
 or mufical cadence. The tailor of Laputa, 
 taking meafure for a fuit of cloaths with a 
 quadrant ; the wife men of Lagado carrying 
 vafl loads of things about with them, that 
 they might converfe together without im- 
 pairing their lungs by the ufe of fpeech; 
 and feveral of the other projeds recorded 
 
 * See Hudibras, part 2. canto 3. verf. 1065 ; and 
 part 3. canio i. verf. 1290. 
 
 Vol. II. Zz in
 
 362 On Laughter and Ch. 11. 
 
 in the fame admirable fatire ^-j are ludi- 
 crous in the higheft degree, from the utter 
 difproportion of che effed: to the caufe. The 
 fame remark may be made upon that part of 
 Sir John Enville's complaint, where he fays, 
 (fpeaking of his lady), " She di(fl:ates to me 
 " in my own bufinefs, fets me right in point 
 *' of trade ; and, if I difagree with her about 
 " any of my fliips at fea, wonders that I 
 " will difpute with her, when I know very 
 *' well that her great-grandfather was a 
 
 *' flag-officer f." Violent anger occa- 
 
 iioned by flight injury makes a man ridi- 
 culous ; we dejp'ife his levity, and laugh at 
 his abfurdity. Ail exceflive pafTion, when it 
 awakens not fympathy, is apt to provoke 
 laughter ; nor do we heartily fympathife with 
 any malevolent, nor indeed with any violent 
 emotions, till we know their caufe, or have 
 reafon to think them well founded. With 
 fuch as we have no experience of, we rare- 
 ly fympathife ; and the view of them in o- 
 thers, efpecially when immoderate, gives 
 rife to merriment. The diltrefs of the mifer 
 when his hoard is ftolen, and the tranfport 
 wherewith he receives it back, though the 
 mioft intenfe feelings of which he is capable, 
 are more apt to move our laughter, than our 
 forrow or joy : and in the Aiilularm of Piau- 
 tus, a great deal of comic ridicule is found- 
 
 * Gulliver's voyage to Laputa. 
 t Sped^ator, Numb. 299. 
 
 ed
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. ^6^ 
 
 ed on this circumflance. Ranting in tra- 
 gedy is laughable, becaufe we know the 
 caule to be inadequate to the efFecl ; and be- 
 caufe a diflorted imitation of nature implies 
 a contrail of likeneis and diffimilitude : but 
 the oppofite fault of infipidity, either in act- 
 ing or in writing, unlefs accompanied with 
 fomething peculiarly abfurd, is not laugh- 
 able ; becaufe it does not roufe the atten- 
 tion, and has not that iincommonnefs^ which 
 (as will be lliown hereafter) generally be- 
 longs to ludicrous combination. This dif- 
 ference in the effecfls of theatrical impro- 
 priety is hinted at by Horace : 
 
 Male fi mandata loqueris, 
 
 Aut dormitaho, aut ridebo 
 
 — Immoderate fear in another, when there 
 feems to be no fufficient caufe for it, and 
 when we ourfelves are at eafe; like that of 
 Sir Hugh Evans, when he is going to fight 
 the French Do(flor, is highly ridiculous ; 
 both becaufe it is exceifive, and bec.ufe it 
 produces a conflidl of difcordant pailions, and 
 an unconneded effufion of words f . 
 
 4. An 
 
 * Ar. Poet. verf. 105. 
 
 f " Plefs my foul ! how full of cholers I am, and 
 
 ** trampling of mind ! 1 fhall be glad if he have de- 
 
 ** ceived me. How melancholies I am ? I will knog 
 
 ** his urinals about his knave's coftard, when I have good 
 
 Z z 2 *' op-
 
 364 On Laughter and Ch. II. 
 
 . 4. An emotion that ought to be important 
 venting itfelf in frivolous language, or in- 
 fipid behaviour, would no doubt make us 
 fmile, if it did not occafion difappointment, 
 or fome other povsrerful feeling fubverfive of 
 laughter. When Blackmore, in his Para- 
 phrafes of Holy Writ, fliows, by the mean- 
 nefs of his vv^ords and figures, that, inftead 
 of having an adequate fenfe of the dignity of 
 the fubjedl, his mind v^as wandering after 
 the mod paltry conceits ; our laughter is pre- 
 vented by our indignation. Or if ever we 
 are betrayed into a fmile by fuch a couplet 
 as the following, 
 
 On thee, O Jacob, I thy jealous God 
 Vafl heaps of heavy mifchief will unload *, 
 
 it mufl be in fome unguarded moment, when, 
 our difguil being lefs keen than it ought to 
 be, the ludicrous emotion is permitted to o- 
 perate. 
 
 5. Kvery body knows, that hyperbole is 
 a lource of the fublime ; and it is equally 
 true, that amplification is a fource of humour. 
 But as that which is intrmfically mean can- 
 
 *' opportunities for the orke. Plefs my foul ! To JJjallow 
 *' rivers, to ivhofe falls Melodious birds fnig madrigats i 
 ** (finging) — To /hallow — Mercy on me ! I have a 
 ** great difpofition to cry. When as I fate in Pabilony* &c. 
 Merry Wives ofWindfor, a^ Z' fi' '• 
 
 * ^^lackmore's Song of Mofes, 
 
 not
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 365 
 
 not be made great, fo neither can real ex- 
 cellence be rendered laughable, by mere 
 amplification. A coxcomb, by exaggerating 
 the charms of a beautiful woman, may make 
 himfelf ridiculous, but will hardly make 
 them fo. But a deformity of feature, that is 
 ludicrous in a low degree, may by exaggera- 
 tion be made more ludicrous : witnefs Fal- 
 llafF's account of Bardolph's fiery-colour- 
 ed face *. The following is a Grecian con- 
 ceit ; and fo highly valued by Strada, that 
 he takes the trouble to explain it in a copi- 
 ous paraphrafe. 
 
 In vain to wipe his nofe old Proclus tries ; 
 That mafs his mod expanfive grafp defies : 
 Sneezing he fays not, " Blefs me ;" fo remote 
 His noftril from his ear, he hears it not . f 
 
 Strobilus, 
 
 * Firft part of King Henry IV. a6l 3. fc. 3. 
 
 f This epigram appears to more advantage in the 
 Greek, on account of the great fimplicity of the ex- 
 preffion. 
 
 Ov IvKXTdi rn ^ff' TlpoKXo^ mv j-ty ccTrojuvaaety^ 
 TJ7C fityo^ yct^ i^u tuv X^f"^ f^i^foT^f^''' 
 OuSt Kiyet Ziy auaoy, tav Trjafyf » yap aKovet 
 
 See Strada. Piftor Suburranus. Longinus gives this 
 
 example of a Ludicrous hyperbole. 
 
 Kyfov idx iKocTTu yy\y i^pyr ap iTTis'oKyi^ 
 Acf-KGiyink' ■ ' De Subl. fcCl . "2,7 , 
 
 ♦* He
 
 366 On Laughter and Ch. II, 
 
 Strobilus, in the play, ridicules the mifer, 
 by faying, " That he faved the parings of 
 ** his nails, and ufed to exclaim, that he 
 *' was undone when he faw the fmoke of his 
 " iire efcaping through the chinuiey *." 
 But the mod profligate wag that ever ap- 
 peared in modern comedy could not make 
 the moral or intellectual virtues of a good 
 man ridiculous, merely by magnifying them ; 
 though, by mifreprefenting, or by connect- 
 ing her with ludicrous imagery, he might 
 no doubt raife a momentary fmile at the ex- 
 pence even of Virtue herfelf. 
 
 Humorous Amplification will generally be 
 found to imply a mixture of plaufibility and 
 abfurdity, or of likenefs and diflimilitude. 
 Butlers hero fpeaks in very hyperbolical 
 terms of the acute feelings occafioned by 
 kicking and cudgelling : 
 
 Some have been beaten, till they know 
 What wood the cudgel's of, by the blow j 
 Some kick'd, until they can feel, whether 
 A flioe be Spanilh or neat's leather f. 
 
 ** He was owner of a field not fo large as a Lacedemo- 
 ** nian epiftle •," — which fometimes conilfted of no more 
 than two or three words. Vide Quintil. Orat. Inft. 
 lib. 8. cap, 3. & 6. Greek and Latin, we fee, may be 
 quoted on trifling as well as important fubjefts. 
 
 * Plant. Aulul. act 2. fc. 4. 
 
 ■{■ Hudibras, part 2. canto i. verf. 221. 
 
 The
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 367 
 
 The fadl is impofTible ; — hence the nvant of 
 relation between the caufe and the pretend- 
 ed effecft. Yet when we reflecfl, that the 
 quaUties of wood and leather are perceived 
 by {(tn^Q, and that fome of them may be 
 perceived by the touch or feeUng, there 
 appears fomething hke plaufibihty in what 
 is faid ; — and hence the fieming relation be- 
 tween the pretended effect and the caufe. 
 And an additional incongruity prefents it- 
 felf, when we compare the ferioufnefs of the 
 fpeaker with the abfurdity of what is fpoken. 
 
 When Smollet, in one of his novels, 
 
 defcribing violent fear, fays, " He flared like 
 *' the gorgon's head, with his mouth wide 
 *' open, and each particular hair crawling 
 *' and twining like an animated ferpent," he 
 raifes the portrait far above nature ; but ac 
 the fame time gives it an apparent plaufibi- 
 hty, from the effedl which fear is fuppofed to 
 
 have in making the hair ftand on end. 
 
 It is, I confefs, an awkward thing, to com- 
 ment upon thefe and the like paflages : and 
 I am afraid, the reader may be tempted to 
 fay of the ludicrous quality in the hands of 
 one who thus analyfes it, that, 
 
 Like following life in creatures we diffecl. 
 We lofe it in the moment we deted:. 
 
 But I hope it will be confidered, that I have 
 no other way of explaining my fubje(fl in a 
 fatistaclory manner. One cannot lay open 
 
 the
 
 ^6S On Laughter and Ch. IL 
 
 the elementary parts of any animal or ve- 
 getable fyfbem, without violating its outward 
 beauty. 
 
 As hyperboles are very common, being 
 iifed by all perfons on almoft all occafions % 
 it might be fuppofed, that, by the frequen- 
 cy of this figure, mirth could eafily be pro- 
 moted in converfation, and a character for 
 humour acquired, with little expence of 
 thought, and without any powers of genius. 
 But that would be a miftake. Familiar hy- 
 perboles excite neither laughter nor aftoniih- 
 ment. All ludicrous and all fublime exag- 
 geration, is charadlerifed by an uncommon- 
 nefs of thought or language. And laugh- 
 able appearances in general, whether exhi- 
 bited to the fenfes or to the fancy, will for 
 the moft part be found to imply fomething 
 unexpected, and to produce fome degree of 
 furprife. 
 
 III. Laughter often arifes from the dif- 
 covery of unexpe6led likenefs between objects 
 apparently d'ljjimilar : and the greater the ap- 
 parent diffimilitude, and new-difcovered re- 
 femblance, the greater will be the furprife 
 attending the difcovery, the more ftriking 
 the oppofition of contrariety and relation, 
 and the more lively the rilible emotion. All 
 men, and all children, have a tendency to 
 mark refemblances ; hence the allegories, 
 fimiles, and metaphors, fo frequent in com- 
 
 * See EfTay on Poetrv, part 2. chap. i. fe<St. 3. § 5, 
 
 2 mon
 
 Ch. 11. LurJiGRous Composition. ^6g 
 
 men difcourfe : but readily to find out fi- 
 militudes that are not obvious, and were ne- 
 ver found out before, is no ordinary talent. 
 The perfon pofTelTed of it is called a man of 
 ivit ; efpecially if at the fame time he poffefs 
 that other talent of conveying his meaning in 
 concife, perfpicuous, and natural language. 
 For I agree with Locke, that " Wit confills 
 ** chiefly in the afTemblage of ideas, and put- 
 ** ting thofe together with quicknefs and va- 
 *' riety wherein can be found any refem- 
 " blance or congruity, thereby to make up 
 ** pleafant pictures and agreeable viiions in 
 
 *' the fancy*:" And I alfo agree with 
 
 Pope, that " an eafy delivery, as well as 
 ** perfedl conception;" — and with Dryden, 
 that " propriety of words as well as of 
 " thought," is neceffary to the formation of 
 true wit. Images and comparifons, con- 
 veyed in obfcure terms, or in too many 
 words, have little efFedl upon the mind, be- 
 caufe they oblige us to take up time in col- 
 ledling all the parts of the idea ; which mull 
 leilea our furprife, and abate the vivacity of 
 the confdquent emotion : and if the lan- 
 guage, inflead of being natural, were quaint 
 and elaborate, we fliould be difgulled, from 
 an opinion, that the whole was the efFeift of 
 art, rather than the inftantaneous effort of a 
 playful imagination, 
 
 * Eflay on Human Undefftanding, book 2. chap, 11- 
 
 §2. 
 
 Vol. II. 3 A h
 
 ;;<> 
 
 On Laughter and Ch. II. 
 
 It is a rule in ferious writing, that fimi- 
 Htudes ihould be neither too obvious, nor 
 too remote. If too obvious, they offend by 
 their infignificancy, give a mean opinion of 
 the author's inventive powers, and afford 
 little variety, becaufe they fugged that only 
 which the reader fuppofes himfelf to be al- 
 ready acquainted with. If too remote, they 
 diftrad the reader's attention ; and they 
 dhow, that the author's fancy is w^andering 
 from his fubjed, and therefore that he him- 
 felf is not fuitably affedled with it ; — a fault 
 which we blame in a ferious writer, as w^ell 
 as in a public fpeaker or player. Familiar 
 aliufions, fuch as every body may make e- 
 \ery day, are to be avoided in humorous 
 compofition alfo ; not only becaufe they are 
 infigniiicant, yield no variety, and give a 
 mean idea of the author, but likewife be- 
 caufe they have not incongruity enough to 
 be ludicrous * : — for when we have been 
 
 long 
 
 * Swift's Song of Similes, My p(^]Jion is as miiftard 
 ftrong, &G. will perhaps occur to the reader as an ex- 
 ception. And it is true of that humorous piece, that 
 molt of th^ comparifons are not only common, but even 
 proverbial. But then there is, in the way of applying 
 ihem, a fpecies of novelty, that fhows a lively and lingu- 
 lar turn of fancy in the author, aixi occafions an agree- 
 able fuiprife to the reader : and the mutual relation, 
 owing to the juxta-pofuion, of fo many diflbnant ideas 
 and incon<?,ruous proverbs, cannot fail to heighten great- 
 ly the ludicrous etie<St. Common, or even proverbial, 
 allulions mav ruccefofullv enouoh be introduced into bur- 
 
 lelejue.
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 371 
 
 long accuflomed to compare certain things 
 together, or to view them as united in the 
 fame affemblage, the one fo conftantly in- 
 troduces the other into the mind, that we 
 
 come to look upon them as congenial. 
 
 But in ludicrous writing, comparifons, if 
 the point of refemblance be clearly exprefTed, 
 and the thing alluded to fufficiently known, 
 can fcarce be too remote : for here the author 
 is not fuppofed to be in earneft, and there- 
 fore we allow full fcope to his fancy ; and 
 here the more remote the comparifon, the 
 more heterogeneous are the objects compared, 
 and the greater the contrail of congruity and 
 unfuitablenefs. 
 
 Perfons who would pafs for wits are apt 
 afFedledly to interlard their ordinary difcourfe 
 with {imilitudes ; which, however, unlefs 
 they are uncommon, as well as appoiite, will 
 only betray the barrennefs of the fpeaker's 
 fancy. Fielding ridicules this fort of pedan- 
 try, in a dialogue between a bad poet and a 
 player. " Plays (fays the man of rhime) are 
 " like trees, which will not grow without 
 " nourifhment ; but, like muflirooms, they 
 *' fhoot up fpontaneoufly, as it were, in a 
 
 lefque, when they furprife by the peculiarity of their 
 application. In this cafe, though faaiiUar in themfelves, 
 they are remote in regard to the fubje6t, and apparently 
 incongruous ; and may therefore raife our opinion ot 
 the author's wit : as a clock made with the tools of a 
 blackfmith would evidence uncommon dexterity in the 
 artift. 
 
 1 A 2 " rich
 
 iC 
 
 ''7J On Laughter and Ch. 11. 
 
 ^' rich foil. The mufes, like vines, may be 
 pruned, but not with a hatchet. The 
 town, like a peevifh child, knows not what 
 *' it defires, and is always befl pleafed with 
 " a rattle *." 
 
 As fome comparifons add to the beauty 
 and fublimity of ferious compofition, fo o- 
 thers may heighten the ludicrous effedl of 
 wit and humour. In what refpedls the 
 former differ from the latter, will be feen 
 afterwards. At prefent I fliall only fpecify 
 the feveral claffes of ludicrous fimilitudes, 
 and give an example or two in each, with a 
 view to illuitrate my theory. 
 
 I. One mean objedl may be compared to 
 another mean obje6l in fuch a way as to pro- 
 voke laughter. In this cafe, as there is no 
 oppofition of meannefs and dignity, it will be 
 proper, in order to make the combination 
 iufficiently incongruous, that the thing al- 
 luded to, if familiar in itfelf, be remote in 
 regard to the fubje(5l, and fuch as one would 
 not be apt to think of, on fuch an occa- 
 fion. 
 
 " I do remember him (fays Falftaff, fpeak^ 
 ing of Juflice Shallow) at Clement's Inn, 
 like a man made after fupper of a cheefe- 
 paring. When he was naked, he was for 
 all the world like a forked radiih, with a 
 
 *See theHiftoryof Jofeph Andrew's, book 3. chap. 10. 
 The whole ^ialpgue is exquilltely humoi'ous. 
 
 «( 
 
 (( 
 
 head
 
 Cli. n. Ludicrous Composition. 373 
 
 head fantaftically carved upon it with a 
 knife *." 
 
 C( 
 
 He fnatchM his whinyard up, that fled 
 When he was falling off" his fteed. 
 As rats do from a falling houfe -|- . 
 
 The reader will think, perhaps, that there is 
 even in thefe examples fomething of great- 
 nefs mixed with meannefs, as well as in the 
 following : 
 
 Inftead of trumpet and of drum. 
 Which makes the warrior's ftomach come. 
 And whets men's valour fharp, like beer. 
 By thunder turn'd to vinegar J, 
 
 But that mixture is more obfervable, when, 
 2. Things important, ferious, or great, 
 are ludicrouily compared to fuch as are mean, 
 frivolous, or vulgar. King Arthur, in the 
 tragedy of Tom Thumb, hints at an ana- 
 logy between two feelings, that were never 
 before thought to have any thing in com- 
 mon, 
 
 I feel a fudden pain within my breaft. 
 
 Nor know I, whether it proceed from love. 
 
 Or only the wind-colic. Time mull (how. 
 
 * Second part of K. Henry IV. aft 3. 
 t Hudibras. % Ibid. 
 
 Wifdom
 
 374 ^N Laughter and CK. IL 
 
 *' Wifdom (fays Swift) is a fox, who, after 
 " long hunting, will at lafl cofl you the 
 " pains to dig out : it is a cheefe, which, 
 *' by how much the richer, has the thicker, 
 *' the homelier, and the coarfer coat, and 
 '' whereof, to a judicious palate, the mag- 
 ** gots are the bell : it is a fack-polTet, 
 " wherein the deeper you go, you will find 
 *' it the fweeter. Wifdom is a hen, whofe 
 '^ cackling we mufl value and confider, be- 
 " caufe it is attended with an egg. But then, 
 " laflly, "Wifdom is a nut, which, unlefs 
 " you chufe with judgement, may cofl you 
 " a tooth, and pay you with nothing but 
 
 a worm *. 
 
 Mufic in general, efpecially military mu- 
 fic, is an objedl of great dignity to the feri- 
 ous poet ; he defcribes it with fublime allu- 
 fions, and in the mofl harmonious language. 
 Butler, by a contrary artifice, makes one fpe- 
 cies of it ridiculous. 
 
 The ketde-drum, whofe fullen dub 
 Sounds — like the hooping of a tub. 
 
 3. Things in themfelves ludicrous and 
 mean may become more ludicrous, by being 
 compared to fuch as are ferious or great; and 
 that, firft, when the ferious objed: alluded 
 to is mentioned in fimple terms, without 
 
 * Introduftion to the Tale of a Tub. 
 
 debafe-
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 375 
 
 debafement or exaggeration *; — fecondly, 
 when it is purpofely degraded by vulgar 
 language and mean circumftances f ; — and, 
 thirdly, when it is exhibited in all the pomp 
 of numbers and defcription J. Examples of 
 the two firft cafes are common in burlefque ; 
 the third is peculiar to the mock-heroic flyle. 
 
 From thefe remarks it will appear, that the 
 rilible emotion may in various ways be raifed 
 or increafed by comparifon and iimilitude. 
 Metaphor, allegory, and the other tropes 
 and figures founded in refemblance, may in 
 like manner heighten the effecfl of ludicrous 
 compofition. 
 
 Without multiplying examples, I Ihall on- 
 ly oblerve, of the Allegory in particular, 
 that, provided its defign be important and 
 obvious, a great difproportion, in point of 
 dignity, between what it expreffes and what 
 it fignifies, will not convey any ludicrous 
 idea to a found mind ; unlefs where an au- 
 thor is at pains to degrade his allegory, either 
 by the extreme meannefs of the allufion, or 
 by connecting it with fomething laughable 
 in the circumftances of phrafeology. The 
 fables and parables of ancient times, were 
 not intended to raife laughter, but to inftru6l 
 mankind. Accordingly, thofe Greek apo- 
 
 * See Hudibras, part i. can. i. verf. 289. 
 t See Hudibras, part 2. can. 2. verf. ^^^. 
 X See Dunciad, book 2. verf. i8r. 
 
 iogues,
 
 376 On Laughter and Ch. IL 
 
 logues, which are afcribed to Efop, and 
 bear undoubted marks of antiquity, are de- 
 hvered in the mod fiinple ftyle, and without 
 any effort to draw the reader's attention to 
 hidicrous ideas, except when thefe make a 
 part of the flory *. But fome modern fa- 
 buUfts, particularly L' Eftrange, are anxious 
 to have their fables coniidered, not only as 
 inflruclive allegories, but alfo as merry tales ; 
 and, in order to make them fuch, frequent- 
 ly employ ludicrous images, and the moft 
 familiar didlion. Whether this, or the an- 
 cient, form of the apologue, deferve the pre- 
 ference, I fhall not now inquire. But I 
 could wifli, that where the moral was of great 
 importance, and connedled with facred 
 things, we had, in our fables, imitated ra- 
 ther the fimplicity of ancient language, than 
 the levity of modern wit. Ridiculous ideas, 
 afTociated by cuftom, with religious truths, 
 can have no good effed: upon the mind. 
 And in this view, the book called Scotch 
 Presbyterian eloquence difplayed muft ever be 
 held in abhorrence by the friends of reli- 
 
 * And when there Is any thing laughable in the cir- 
 cumftances, it often appears to greater advantage in the 
 fimple Greek, than in the moft elaborate modern para- 
 phrafe. The reader may compare kK^jdirnz, xa/ Kc^a^ 
 with Le Corhenu et le Renard of Fontaine. The conclu- 
 fion of the former is remarkably exprtllive and pidtu- 
 refque, as well as fimple ; O' cTe Ko^a^ ax«crac tcwtc/., ^ 
 
 <kc. 
 
 1 glon.
 
 Ch. 11. Ludicrous Composition. 377 
 
 gioii, even though the writer could be vin- 
 dicated from the charge of wilful and mali- 
 cious falfehood. And I cannot but think, 
 that, in this view, even the Tale of a Tiiby 
 notwithflanding its unequalled merit as a 
 piece of humorous writing, is blameable, in 
 the general tenor of the allegory, as well as 
 
 in particular paffages. Are you then 
 
 one of thofe gloomy mortals, who think 
 religion an enemy to jocularity ? By no means. 
 If I were, I fhould not now be writing an 
 EfTay on Laughter. Chriftianity is, in my 
 opinion, not merely a friend to chearfulnefs, 
 but the only thing in the world which can 
 make a confiderate mind rationally and per- 
 manently chearful. But between fmiling 
 and fneering, between complacency and con- 
 tempt, between innocent mirth and un- 
 feafonable buffoonery, there feems to me 
 to be a very wide difference. 
 
 After what Addifon in the SpeSlator, and 
 Dryden in one of his long prefaces, have 
 faid againft Hudibraftic rhimes, one can 
 hardly venture to affirm, that a fmile niay 
 fometimes be occafioned by thofe unexpected 
 coincidencies of found. I confefs, however, 
 that I have been entertained with them in 
 Swift and Butler; and fliould think him a 
 prudifh critic who could turn up his nofe at 
 the following couplets ; 
 
 And pulpit, drum ecclefiaflic 
 Was beat with fill, inflead of a flick. — — 
 Vol. IL 3 B With
 
 378 On Laughter and Ch. IL 
 
 With words far bitterer than wormwood. 
 That would in Job or Grizel ftir mood. ■ ■ 
 Though flored with deletery medicines, 
 Which whofoever took is dead fmce, — — 
 There was ' an ancient fage philofopher. 
 Who had read Alexander Rofs over. ■ 
 
 I grant, that thefe combinations, confider- 
 ed as wit, have little or no naerit. Yet they 
 fev?m to pofTefs in a certain degree the ludi- 
 crous chara(fi:er, and to derive it from the di- 
 rjerftty of the words and meaning as con- 
 trafted with the unexpedled Jimilarity of the 
 founds. In ordinary rhimes, the found, be- 
 ing expeclrd, gives no furprife ; and, being 
 common, leems natural, and a thing of 
 courfe : but when two or three words, in 
 the end 01 one line, correfpond in found to 
 two or three fyllables of the fame word, in 
 the end 01 another, the jarring coincidence is 
 miore ftriking and more furprifing. But as 
 they furprife the more, the lefs they are ex- 
 pected, .^nd the lefs they feem to be fought 
 for, thefe rhimes mull lofe their effe(fl when 
 too frequent. And the fame thing muft hap- 
 pen, when they are incorrect, on account of 
 the imperfecl ref^mblance, and becaufe every 
 body knows it is an eafy matter to bring 
 words together that have fome letters only in 
 common : and tlierefore one is rather offend- 
 ed than entertained with the rhime of this 
 couplet of Prior : 
 
 Know
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 
 
 Know thenj when Phebus' rays infpe6l us, 
 Firft, Sir, I read, and then I breaktafti 
 
 379 
 
 Hudibraftic rhimes can take place only in 
 burlefque *; fuch trifling being unfuitable to 
 all ferious poetry, and even to the affeded 
 folemnity of the mock-heroic. 
 
 Some critics, taking all their notions from 
 the pradlice of Greece and Rome, have re- 
 prefented rhime of every kind as a ridicu- 
 lous thing. But that cannot be ridiculous, 
 to v^^hich we are continually accuftomed ; 
 which, independent on cuftom, is in itfelf 
 almoft univerfally pleafing ; and which has 
 acquired additional grace and dignity, by be- 
 ing fo much ufed as an ornament in our 
 moil beautiful compolitions. Similarity of 
 
 * Hobbes, partly by a rhime of this kind, and part- 
 ly by a mifapprehenfion of Homer's language, has turn- 
 ed into grofs burlefque one of the moft admired defcrip- 
 tions in all poetry. 
 
 'H, ^ Kuaytmiy itt o<p^vci yiv(Ti Kpovtuy 
 
 VifXTOq (XTT a^ayXTOlO, jUiyaV 6 ih.iKic,iY OKV/ATTOy^ &€* 
 
 Iliad. I. 528* 
 
 This faid, with his black brows he to her nodded^ 
 Wherewith difplayed were his locks divine ; 
 Olympus ihook at ftirring of his godhead j 
 And Thetis from it jump'd into the brine. 
 
 The tranflator fhov^s alfo his ignorance of the Englifh 
 tongue, in the ufe he makes <Jf the laft word of his third 
 line. 
 
 1 B 2 found
 
 38G) 
 
 On Laughter and Ch. 11. 
 
 found in contiguous verfes gives pleafure to 
 all children and illiterate perfons, and does 
 not naturally offend the ear of any modern 
 European, however learned. Nay we have 
 reafon to think, that fomething of this fort, 
 in the end or beginning * of words, has in 
 
 all 
 
 * A fimilarity of found in the beginning of contiguous 
 words, or rather in their initial confonants, has of late 
 been called alliteration. Some authors fpeak of it in 
 terms of the utmoft contempt and abhorrence ; and as 
 if none but fools and fops could take any pleafure in it. 
 And furely when it recurs often, and feems to be the 
 efre£f of ftudy, it gives a finical appearance to poetry, 
 and becomes offeniive. But that many good judges of 
 poetical harmony have been pleafed with it, might be 
 made appear by innumerable examples from Lucretius, 
 Spenfer, Dryden, and others. Indeed, previous to the> 
 influence of cuftom, it would not be eafy to determine, 
 whether a limilarity of found, in the beginning, or in 
 the end, of contiguous words, were likely to produce 
 the more rational, or more durable entertainment. That 
 borh alliteration and rhime, though not equally perhaps, 
 are however naturally, pleafing to the ears of our people, 
 is evident, not only from what may be obferved in chil- 
 dren and peafants, but alfo from the compofition of 
 many of our old proverbs, in which fome of the words 
 leexp. to have been chofen for the fake of the initial let- 
 ters \ as. Many men many minds. Spare to fpeak and 
 fpare to fpeed, Money makes the mare to go. Love me 
 little love me long, Manners make the man, &c. — 
 ChriJVi kirk on the green, and moft of the old Scotch 
 ballads, abound in alliteration. And fome ancient Eng- 
 lilh poems are more diftinguifhed by this, than by any 
 other poetical contrivance. In the works of Langland, 
 even where no regard is had to rhime, and but little to 
 a rude fort of Anapcftic Rhythm, it feems to have been 
 
 a
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 381 
 
 all ages been agreeable to all nations whatfo- 
 ever, the Greeks and Romans not excepted. 
 For to what other ultimate principle, than the 
 love of fimilar final founds, Ihall we afcribe 
 the frequent coincidence, in termination, of 
 the Greek and Latin participle and adjecftive, 
 with the fubftantive ? Homer himfelf often 
 repeats certain harmonious fyllables of fimi- 
 lar found ; which he might have avoided, 
 and with which, therefore, as he feems on 
 fome occafions rather to feek for than to fliun 
 them, we may prefume that he was pleafed *. 
 It is true, the Greeks and Romans did not 
 admit, in their poetry, thofe fimilar endings 
 of lines, which we call Rhime. The reafon 
 probably was, that in the claflical tongues, 
 
 a rule, that three words at leaft of each line fhould be- 
 gin with the fame letter : 
 
 Death came driving after, and all to duft pafhed. 
 Kynges and Kayfars, Knightes and Popes. 
 
 * Virgil has a few of the fame fort, 
 
 Cornua velatarum obvertimus antennarum. 
 
 JEneid. III. 
 
 i form?e magnorum ululare luporum. 
 
 , JEneid. VII. 
 
 I do not find, that the ancient critics have taken any no- 
 tice of this peculiarity. Their oy.aioTiKiVTov feems to 
 have been a coincidence of found rather in the life 
 words of contiguous claufes, than in the laft fyllables 
 or letters of contiguous words. See Demet. Phaler, 
 § 281. J and RoUin's Quintilian, lib. 9. cap. 3. § 2. 
 
 on
 
 ':>82 On Laugh-ter and Ch. II. 
 
 v) 
 
 on account of their regular flrudure, like 
 terminations were fo frequent, that it re- 
 quired more dexterity, and occafioned a more 
 pleafnig fufpenfe to the ear, to keep them 
 leparate, than to bring them together. But 
 in the modern tongues the cafe is different ; 
 and therefore rhime may in them have a 
 good effeifl, though in Greek and Latin it 
 muffc have had a bad one* Befides, one 
 end of rhimes in modern poetry, is to di- 
 flinguifh it more eifecftually from profe : the 
 Greeks and Romans diftinguifhed theirs by 
 the meafure, and by the compofition, upon 
 which the genius of their languages allow- 
 ed them to bellow innumerable graces, in 
 refpecl of arrangement, harmony, and va- 
 riety, whereof the beft modern tongues, 
 from the irregularity of their ftrudlure, par- 
 ticularly from their want of inflexion, are but 
 moderately fufceptible : and therefore, of 
 rhime, as a mark of diftindlion, our poetry 
 may fometimes (land in need, though theirs 
 did nor. In facSl we find, that Blank verfe, 
 except where the want of rhime is compen- 
 fated, as it is in Milton, by the harmony 
 and variety of the compofition, can never 
 have a good efTedl in our heroic poetry : of 
 which any perfon may be fatisfied, who looks 
 into Trapp's Virgil, or who, by changing a 
 word in each couplet, takes away the rhime 
 from any part of Pope's Homer. But the 
 flrudlure of the Miltonic numbers is fo fine- 
 ly diverfified, and fo tranfcendently harmo- 
 
 nioas.
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 383 
 
 nious, that, in the perufal of Paradife Loft, 
 we have no more reafbn to regret the want 
 of rhime, than, in readhig the EfTay on 
 Man, or Dryden's Fables, to lament that 
 they were not written in blank verfe. 
 
 IV. Dignity and Meannefs united, or fup- 
 pofed to be united, in the fame affemblage, 
 form a copious fource of ludicrous com- 
 bination. Innumerable are the examples that 
 might be given on this head, but I fhall con- 
 fine my remarks to a few of the moft obvi- 
 ous. 
 
 1 . Mean fentiments appearing unexpe6led- 
 ly in a ferious argument, fo as to form what 
 is called an anticlimax, are often produdlive 
 of laughter. Waller, in a magnificent en- 
 comium on the Summer Iflands, provokes a 
 fmile inftead of admiration, by a contraft 
 of this kind. 
 
 With candid plantanes, and the juicy pine. 
 On choiceil melons and fweet grapes they dine. 
 And — with potatoes fat their wanton fwine. 
 
 2. Mean fentiments, or expreffions, in the 
 mouth of thofe who aiTume airs of dignity, 
 have the fame effedl. Dogberry is a memo- 
 rable inftance. — " Bombard the fuburbs 
 " of Pera, (fays a mad Ihoemaker who fan- 
 *' cies hirnfelf the King of Prullia, in one of 
 " Smollet's novels) — make a defart of Lu- 
 *' fatia ; — tell my brother Henry to pafs 
 ** the Elbe with fifty fquadrons ; — lend 
 
 '' hither
 
 3^4 ^^ Laughter and Cli. If, 
 
 " hither my chief engineer ; — 77/ lay all 
 " the JJjoes in my Jhop^ the breach will be 
 *' pra&icable in four-and- twenty hours." —^ 
 Diiia faBis exaquanda^ is a maxim in hiflo- 
 rical writing ; and, in common life, it may 
 be laid down as a rule to thofe who wifh to 
 avoid the ridicule of others, that they pro- 
 portion their behaviour to their accomplifh- 
 ments. 
 
 3. Mean or common thoughts delivered in 
 pompous language, form a laughable incon- 
 gruity ; of which our mock tragedies, and 
 too often our ferious ones, afford many ex- 
 amples. Upon this principle, the character 
 of Piftol is flill ludicrous, though the race of 
 coxcombs of whom he is the reprefentative, 
 has been long extindl. The Splendid Shilling 
 of Philips, in which the Miltonic numbers 
 and phrafeology are applied to a trifling fub- 
 jecfl, is an exquifite fpecimen of this fort of 
 ridicule ; and no part of it more fo, than 
 the following lines : 
 
 Not blacker tube, nor of a fhorter fize. 
 Smokes Cambro-Briton (verfed in pedigree. 
 Sprung from Cadwallader and Arthur, kings 
 Full famous in romantic tale) ; when he 
 O'er many a craggy hill, and barren cliff. 
 Upon a cargo of famed Ceftrian cheefe, 
 High-overfhadowing rides. 
 
 4. A fublime thought, or folemn expref- 
 fion, unexpedledly introduced in the midft 
 of fomething frivolous, feldom fails to pro- 
 
 2 voke
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 385 
 
 voke a fmile, unlefs it betray unfeafonable 
 levity, or want of tafte in the author. 
 
 My hair Fd powder in the women's way, 
 And drefs, and talk of drelTing, more than they. 
 ril pleafe the maids of honour, if I can ; 
 Without black velvet breeches — what is man ! * 
 
 5. An important or violent pafTion, pro- 
 ceeding from a caufe apparently trifling, is 
 apt (as was remarked already) to excite 
 laughter in the indifferent fpeclator. Here 
 is a two-fold incongruity ; a great efFecl is 
 produced by a fmall caufe, and an impor- 
 tant paffion by an unimportant objec5l. San- 
 cho Pan9a cUnging in the dark to the wall 
 of a ruin, with the dreadful apprehenfion 
 that a bottomlefs gulph was beneath him, 
 while his feet were within a few inches of the 
 firm ground, is as laughable an inflance of 
 diftrefs as can well be imagined. Senti- 
 ments, too, that partake but little of the 
 nature of pafTion, are fometimes ludicrous, 
 when they feem more important than the 
 occafion requires. As when Parfon Adams, 
 to fhew that he was not deftitute of money, 
 produces half a guinea, and ferioufly adds, 
 that oftentation of riches was not his motive 
 for difplaying it. A finer piece of humour 
 was never written, than Addifon's Journal 
 
 * The Man cf Tajle^ by the Rev. Mr Bramftoae, ia 
 Dodiley's Colkaion. 
 
 Vol. IL ' 3C of
 
 j[86 On Laughter ano Ch. II. 
 
 of the Court of honour in the Tatkr ; \n 
 which every reader perceives the oppofition 
 of dignity and meannefs : — the latter ari- 
 fing from the infignificance of the caufes ; 
 the former from the ferious air of the nar- 
 rative, from the accuracy of detail and mi- 
 nutenefs of enquiry in the feveral examina- 
 tions, and from the grave deportment of 
 the judge and jviry. Indeed, through the 
 whole work, the perfonage of Ifaac BickerftafF 
 is fupported with inimitable pleafantry. The 
 conjurer, the politician, the man of hu- 
 mour, the critic ; the ferioufnefs of the mo- 
 ralifl, and the mock dignity of the aftrologer ; 
 the vivacities and the infirmities peculiar to 
 old age, are all fo blended and eontrafted in 
 the cenfor of Great Britain, as to form a 
 chara(5ter equally complex and natural, e- 
 qually laughable and refpedlable. 
 
 6, To this head may perhaps be refer- 
 red thofe paflages, whereof the humour 
 refults from an elaborate or minute, and 
 at the fame time unexpecfled, illuflration of 
 what is obvious or frivolous. 
 
 " Gru?nio, A fire, good Curtis. — Curtis. 
 *' Is my mailer and his wife coming, Gru- 
 ** mio ? — Grii. O, aye, Curtis, aye ; and 
 " therefore fire, fire. Caji on no ivater *." 
 
 So when two dogs are fighting in the ftreets. 
 With a third dog one of the two dogs meets ; 
 
 * Tswniog of the Slirewe 
 
 With
 
 Ch. IL Ludicrous Composition. 387 
 
 With angry tooth he bites him to the bone, 
 
 And this dog fmarts for what that dog has done *. 
 
 7. Mean circumflances in .folemn defcrlp- 
 tlon, feem ridiculous to thofe who are fen- 
 fible of the incongruity, except where the ef- 
 fedl of that incongruity is countei a6ted by 
 certain caufes to be fpecified here;ifter. Of 
 this blunder in compofition the poetry of 
 Blackmore fupplies thoufands of examples. 
 The lines on Etna, qvioted in the treatiie on 
 the Bathos, are well known. By his con- 
 trivance, the mountain is made to hibour, 
 not with a fubterraneous fire and external 
 conflagration, but with a fit of the colic ; an 
 idea, that feems to have been familiar to 
 him (for wc meet with it in other parts of 
 his works) ; whether from his being fubjecl 
 to that ditlemper, or, as a phyfician, parti- 
 cularly fuccefsful in curing it, 1 cannot fay. 
 This poet feems to have had no notion of 
 any thing more magnificent, than the u- 
 fages of his own time and neighbourhood ; 
 which, accordingly, he transfers to the mofl 
 awful fubje6ls, and thus degrades into bur- 
 lefque what he meant to raife to fablimi- 
 ty. He tells us, that when creation was fi- 
 nilhed, there was a great rejoicing in heaven, 
 with fire-works and illuminations, and that 
 the angels threw blazing meteors from the 
 
 * Fielding's Thorn Thumb. 
 
 3 C 2 battle-
 
 388 On Laughter and Ch. II. 
 
 b.ttlements *. To the Supreme Being he 
 inoil: indecently afcribes a variety of me- 
 chinical operations ; and reprefents him as 
 givimr commijjions to envoys and agents to 
 take care of the heavenly inter ejis in the land 
 of Palefline, and employing pioneers to make 
 a ro d for him and his army. Nay he fpeaks, 
 of h/ufehold troops and guards^ by whofe at- 
 tendance the court of the Almighty is both 
 graced and defended f. Indeed the general 
 tenor of this avithor's facred poetry is fo e- 
 normou'ly abfurd, as to move the indigna- 
 tion of a reader of tafte, and confequently 
 fupprefs the laughter, that fuch incongruity 
 could not fail to raife, if the fubject were lefs 
 interefting \. 
 
 But here it may be aflied, What is the 
 charadteriftic of Meannefs ? and what the 
 general nature of thofe circumltances, fenti- 
 ments, and allufions, "\vhich, by falling be- 
 low an important fubject, have a tendency 
 to becom.e ridiculous. — The folio. ving brief 
 remarks will fugged a hint or two for an- 
 fwering this queition. 
 
 Firfl : Nothing natural is mean, unlefs it 
 convey a difguilful idea. The picture of 
 UlyfTes' dog||, old and blind, and. neglected, 
 
 * Prince Arthur, p. 50. fourth edition. 
 ■\ Paraphrafes of the Pfalms, &c. 
 X See the next chapter. 
 11 OdyfT. lib. 17, 
 
 is
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 389, 
 
 is not mean ; but the circumftance of his be- 
 ing covered with vermin fliould have been 
 omitted, becaufe it is both ofFenlive and 
 ■U'lneceirary. The defcription of Evander's 
 fields and cottages, in Virgil *, fo far from 
 bei g mean, is more beautiful and of great- 
 er dignity, than that of the fun's palace in 
 Ovid, becaufe more natural, more pleafing, 
 and more inflrudtive. Even the vices and 
 crimes of mankind, the cunning of lago, 
 the perfidy of Macbeth, the cruelty of Me- 
 zentius, the pride of Agamemnon, the fury 
 of Achilles, may, from the ends to which 
 they operate, and from the moral purpofes 
 for which the poet introduces them, acquire 
 dignity fulEcient to entitle them to a place 
 in ferious poetry of the higheft order. Na- 
 tural views of human charadler in every con- 
 dition of life, of human paffions even in 
 the mufl uncultivated minds, and of the ex- 
 ternal world even where deftitute of all or- 
 nament, may be rendered both ufeful and 
 agreeable, and may therefore ferve to em- 
 belliih the mofl lublime performances ; pro- 
 vided that indelicacy be kept at a diftance, 
 a. d the language elevated to the pitch of the 
 compofition. 
 
 But, fecondly, in judging of this fort of 
 propriety, refpect mud be had to the notions 
 and manners of the people to whom the 
 work was originally addreffed : for, by a 
 
 * 4^neid. lib. 8. 
 
 change
 
 3go On Laughter and Ch. II. 
 
 change of circumftances, any mode of life, 
 any profeffion, almofl any objetft, may, 
 withont lofing its name, forfeit part of its 
 original dignity. Few callings are now held 
 in lefs efteem, than that of itinerant ballad- 
 fingers ; and yet their predecefTors the Min- 
 flrels were accounted not only refpedlable but 
 facred. — If we take our idea of a fhepherd 
 from thofe who keep fheep in this country, 
 we fhall have no adequate fenfe of the pro- 
 priety of many paflages in old authors who 
 allude to that characfler. Shepherds in an- 
 cient times were men of great diftindtion. 
 The riches, and confequently the power, of 
 many political focieties, depended then on 
 their flocks and herds ; and we learn, from 
 Homer, that the fons and favourites of kings, 
 and, from Scripture, that the patriarchs, 
 took upon them the employment of Ihep- 
 herds. This gave dignity to an oflice, which 
 in thofe days it required many virtues and 
 great abilities to execute. Thofe fhepherds 
 muft have been watchful and attentive in pro- 
 viding accommodation for their flocks ; and 
 ftrong and valiant, to defend them from rob- 
 bers and beads of prey, which in regions of 
 great extent and thinly peopled, would be 
 frequently met with. We find, that David's 
 duty as a fliepberd obliged him to encounter 
 a lion and a bear, which he flew with his 
 own hand. In a word, a good fliepherd was, 
 in thofe times, a characfler in the highefl: de- 
 gree refpeclable both for dignity and virtue. 
 
 And
 
 Ch. 11. Ludicrous Composition. 391 
 
 And therefore we need not wonder, that, 
 in holy writ, the moft facred perfons fhould 
 be compared to good fhepherds ; that kings, 
 in Homer, fhould be called fhepherds of 
 the people ^ ; and that Chriflian minifters 
 
 fhould 
 
 * A plain and unaffefted literal verfion of Homer, 
 well executed, would be a valuable work. In the pe- 
 rufal indeed it would not be fo pleafing as Pope's Tranf- 
 lation ; nor could it convey any adequate idea of the 
 harmony of the original : but by preferving the figures, 
 allulions, and turns of language, peculiar to the great 
 father of poetry, it would give thofe who are ignorant 
 of Greek a jufter notion of the manners of his age, 
 and of the ftyle of his compofition, than can be learn- 
 ed from any tranflation of him that has yet appeared. — • 
 Something of this kind the world had reafon to expecH: 
 from Madame Dacier, but was difappointed. Homer, as 
 drefled out by that Lady, has more of the Frenchman 
 in his appearance, than of the old Grecian. His beard 
 is clofe fliaved, his hair is powdered, and there is even 
 a little rouge upon his cheek. To fpeak more intelligi- 
 bly, his fimple and nervous dltStion is often wire-drawi> 
 into a flafhy and feeble paraphrafe, and his imagery as 
 well as harmony fometimes annihilated by abbreviation. 
 Nay to make him the more modifh, the good lady is at 
 p lins to patch up his ftyle with unneceflary phrafes auci 
 flouriflies in the French tafte ; which have juft fuch an 
 effed: in a tranflation of Homer, as a bag-wig and fnufT- 
 box would have in a pifture of Achilles. — The French 
 tongue has a fimplicity and a ftyle of figures and phrales 
 peculiar to itfelf •, but is fo circumfcribed by the mode, 
 that it will hardly admit either the ornaments or the 
 plainnefs of ancient language. Shepherd of the people is 
 a favourite expreffion of Homer's, and is indeed a beauti- 
 ful periphrafts : it occurs, I think, twelve times in the 
 firft five books of the Iliad, and in M. Dacier's profe 
 veriion of thofe books, only once. — A celebrated 
 French Traaflator of Demofihenes makes the orator ad- 
 
 drefi
 
 392 On Laughter and Ch. IL 
 
 jhould even now take the name of Paftors, 
 and fpeak, of the fouls committed to their 
 care, under the denomination of a flock. 
 
 Is then Homer's poetry chargeable with 
 meannefs, becaufe it reprefents Achilles pre- 
 paring fupper for his guefts, the princefs 
 Nauiicaa wafhing the clothes of the family, 
 Eumeus making his own ihoes, Ulyifes the 
 wooden frame of his own bed, and the 
 princes of Troy harnefling their father's cha- 
 riot ? By no means. The poet painted the 
 manners as he faw them : and thofe offices 
 could not in his time be accounted mean, 
 which in his time employed occafionally per- 
 fbns of the higheft rank and merit. Nay 
 in thefe offices there is no intriniic meannefs ; 
 they are ufeful and neceffary : and even a 
 modern hero might be in circumftances, in 
 which he would think it a lingular piece 
 of good fortune to be able to perform them. 
 Whatever ferves to make us independent, 
 will always (in the general opinion of man- 
 kind) poflefs dignity fufficient to raife it far 
 above ridicule, when defcribed in proper lan- 
 guage. In Homer's days, fociety was more 
 unfettled than it is now ; and princes and 
 great men, being obliged to be more ad- 
 
 drefs his countrymen, not with the manly fimpHcity of 
 Te men cf Jthens, but by the Gothic title of Ger.tLmen : 
 which is as I'eal burleique, and almoft as great an a- 
 nachronifm, as that paflage of Prior, where Protegenes's 
 maid invites ApcIIes to drink tea. 
 
 2 venturous.
 
 Gil. II. Ludicrous Composition. 
 
 393 
 
 venturous, were fubjecfl to greater changes 
 of fortune, and as liable to cold, wearinefs, 
 and hunger, as the meaneft of their people. 
 It was necelTity that made them acquainted 
 with all the arts of life. Nor was their 
 dignity more affedled by the employments 
 •above mentioned, than that of a modern 
 prince would be, by riding the great horfe^ 
 or putting on his own clothes. 
 
 Thirdly : Every ferious writer or fpeaker 
 fuftains a certain charatfler : — an hiilorian, 
 that of a man who willies to know the 
 truth of fadts, and to record them agree- 
 ably ; a preacher, that of one who is deeply 
 affedled with the truths of religion, and an- 
 xious to imprefs them upon others ; and an 
 epic poet is to be conlidered as a perfon, 
 contemplating with admiration a feries of 
 great events, and employing all the powers 
 of language, harmony, and fiction, to de- 
 fcribe them in the moft interefting manner. 
 Now by a peculiar kind of fagacity, either 
 inftin^tive, or derived from experience, all 
 people of tafte know, what thoughts and 
 words and modes of expreiTion are fuitable 
 to an author's charaifler, and what are o- 
 therwife. If, when he is fuppofed to be 
 taken up with admiration of fome great ob- 
 je6l, it fliould appear, from his language, 
 allufions, or choice of circumftances, that 
 his fancy is wandering to things remote 
 from, or difproportioned to, the thougiits 
 that occupy his mind, we are ilruck with 
 
 Vol. II. 3^ . ^^^^
 
 394 ^^ Laughter and Cli. II. 
 
 the impropriety ; as we fhould be with the 
 ■unfuitablenefs of that man's behaviour, who, 
 while he kneeled, and repeated a prayer, 
 fhould at the fame time employ himfelf in 
 winding up his watch, counting his money, 
 or adjuiting his periwig at a looking-clafs. 
 
 In general, that is a mea7t circumftance, a 
 ptean allufion, a mean expreflion, which leflens 
 or debafes our idea of what it was intend- 
 ed to embellifli or magnify. It always 
 brings difappointment, but not always pain- 
 ful difappointment : for meannefs may give 
 rife to jocularity, as well as to contempt, 
 difguft, or indignation. 
 
 8. Parodies may be ludicrous, from thq 
 oppofition between ftmilarity of phrafe, and 
 d'lverjtty of meaning, even though both the 
 original and the imitation be ferious. The 
 following lines in themfelves contain no 
 laughable matter : 
 
 Bread was his only food, his drink the brook. 
 
 So fmall a falary did his redor fend : 
 
 He left his laundrefs all he had, a book : 
 
 He found iu death, 'twas all he wiili'd, a friend. 
 
 Y^t one reads them with a fmile, when one 
 recolleds the original : 
 
 Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere ; 
 Heaven did a recompenfe as largely fend : 
 He gave to Mifery all he had, a tear ; 
 He gain'd from Heaven, 'twas all he wilh'd, a 
 friend. 
 
 But
 
 Ch. 11. Ludicrous Composition. 395 
 
 But in mod cafes the ridicule of parodies will 
 be greatly heightened, when the original is 
 fublime or ferious, and the imitation fri- 
 volous or mean. The Lutrin Dunciad, and 
 Rape of the Lock, abound in examples. 
 
 Parodies produce their full effecl on thofe 
 only who can trace the imitation to its ori- 
 ginal. ClarilTa's harangue, in the fifth canto 
 of the laft-mentioned poem, gives pleafure 
 to every reader ; but to thofe who recolle<fl: 
 that divine fpeech of Sarpedon *, whereof 
 this is an exacft parody, it muft be enter- 
 taining in the higheft degree. — Hence it is, 
 that writers of the greateil: merit are mod 
 liable to be parodied : for if the reader per- 
 ceive not the relation between the copy and 
 its archetype, the humour of the parody is 
 loft ; and this relation he will not perceive, 
 unlefs the original be familiar to him. Much 
 of Lucian's humour lies in his parodies ; 
 the phrafeology and compofition of De- 
 mofthenes in particular he often mimics : 
 and it is reafonable to fuppofe, that we 
 iliould be more affected with the humourous 
 writings of the ancients, if we v/ere better 
 acquainted with the authors to whom they 
 occafionally allude. Certain it is, that Pa- 
 rody was much in ufe among them, Ari- 
 ftotie fpeaks of one Hegemon as the inventor 
 of it f ; and juftly refers parody in wri- 
 
 * Iliad, xli. verf. 310. — 328. 
 t Arifl. Poet. fea. 2. 
 
 3 D 2 ting,
 
 396 Ok Laughter and Ch. IL 
 
 ting, and caricatura in painting, to the fame 
 fpecies of imitation, namely, to that in which 
 the original is purpofely debafed in the copy. 
 Homer, Virgil, and Horace, have been more 
 frequently parodied than any other authors. 
 Of modern performances, Hamlet's and Cato's 
 foliloquies, and Gray's Elegy in a country 
 church-yard, have been diftinguilhed in this 
 way. Thefe mock imitations are honourable 
 to the original authors, becaufe tacit ac- 
 knowledgements of their popularity: — but 
 I cannot applaud thofe wits who take the 
 fame freedom with the phrafeology of Scrip- 
 ture, as Dodfley has done in his burlefque 
 chronicle of the kings of England. I do not 
 think that he meant any harm ; but it is un- 
 wife to annex ludicrous ideas to language that 
 fliould ever be accounted facred. 
 
 9. The Ludicrous Style may be divided 
 into two forts, the Mock-heroic, and (taking 
 the word in a ftrid: fenfe) the Burlefque, Of 
 the former the Dunciad is a ftandard, and 
 Hudibras of the latter. A mixture of dig- 
 nity and meannefs is difcernible in both. 
 In the firft, mean things are made ludicrous 
 by dignity of language and verification ; and 
 therefore parodies or imitations of the flyle 
 and numbers, of fublime poetry, have a very 
 good effedl. Thus Homer's Iliad is the pro- 
 totype of the Batrachomyomachia *, Paradife 
 Loll of the Splendid Shillings and Virgil of 
 
 * Tke Btettle of the Frogs and Mice. 
 
 the
 
 Ch. IT. Ludicrous Composition. 597 
 
 the Dunciad. Solemnity is the charadler af- 
 fumed by the mock-heroic poet ; he confi- 
 ders little things as great, and defcribes them 
 accordingly. — The burlefque author is a 
 buffoon by profeffion. Great things, when 
 he has occafion to introduce them, he confi- 
 ders as little ; and degrades them by mean 
 words and colloquial phrafes, by allufions to 
 the manners and bufinefs of low life, and by 
 a peculiar levity or want of dignity in the 
 conftru6lion of his numbers. Ancient facfls 
 and cuftoms are fometimes burlefqued by 
 modern phrafeology * ; as the ftatue of Cefar 
 or Alexander would be, by a modern drefs ; 
 — by that drefs, which is too familiar to our 
 eve to command refpecfl, and which we fee 
 every day worn by men of all characters, 
 both good and bad, both important and in- 
 iignificant. — Yet the ilatue of a modern 
 hero in the drefs of Alexander or Cefar would 
 not be ludicrous ; — partly, becaufe we are 
 accuftomed to fee the bed ftatues in ancient 
 
 * Witnefs the following defcriptioa of a Roman Ti t>- 
 unjph, In Hudib. p. 2. c. 2. 
 
 — As the Aldermen of Rome, 
 
 Their foes at training overcome, 
 
 Well mounted in their bell array, 
 
 Upon a carre, and who but they ! 
 
 And followed by a world of tall lads. 
 
 That merry ditties troU'd and ballads. 
 
 Did ride with many a good morrow, 
 
 Crying, Hey for our towji, through the borough. 
 
 drelles ;
 
 398 On Laughter and Ch. II. 
 
 drelTcs ; partly, becaufe thofe drelTes have 
 more intrinfic beauty than the modern ; 
 partly, becaufe we have never feen them 
 applied to any purpofe but that of adorning 
 the images of great men ; and partly, no 
 doubt, becaufe what bears the (lamp of an- 
 tiquity does naturally command veneration. 
 
 In accoutering ancient heroes for the mo- 
 dern ftage, it were to be wiflied, that fome 
 regard were had to Cojliime and probability. 
 Cato's wig is famous. We have feen Mac- 
 beth dreifed in fcarlet and gold, with a full- 
 bottom'd periwig, which, on his ufurping 
 the fovereignty, was forthwith decorated 
 Vv^ith two additional tails. Nothing could 
 guard fuch incongruity from the ridicule 
 of thofe who know any thing of ancient 
 manners, but either the tranfcendent merit 
 of the acflor and of the play, or the force of 
 habit, which, as will appear by and by, has 
 a powerful influence in fupprefhng rifible 
 emotions. — But is it not as abfurd to make 
 Cato and Macbeth fpeak Englifn, as to drefs 
 them in periwigs ? No : the former pracflice 
 is juftified upon the plea of necelfity ; but 
 it can never be neceflary to equip an ancient 
 hero with a modern ornament which in it^ 
 felfis neither natural nor graceful. I ad- 
 mit, that the exadl Roman drefs would not 
 fait the Britiili ftage : but might not fome- 
 thing be contrived in its (lead, which would 
 gratify the unlearned part of the audience, 
 without offending the reft ? If fuch a re- 
 formation
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous' Composition. 399 
 
 formation fliall ever be attempted, I hope 
 care will be taken to avoid the enor of thofe 
 painters, v^ho, by joining in one piece the 
 fafhions of different centuries, incur the 
 charge of anachronifm, and exhibit fuch fi- 
 gures on their canvas, as never appeared up- 
 on earth. I have in my eye a portrait, in 
 other refpedls of great merit, of the late 
 Marifchal Keith ; who appears habited in a 
 fuit of old Gothic armour, with ruffles of 
 theprefent fafhion at his wrifts, a bag-wig 
 on his head, and a mufket in his hand. A- 
 lexander the Great, in a hat and. feather, 
 wielding a tomahawk, or fnapping a piflol 
 at the head of Clytus, would fcarce be a 
 greater impropriety. — But to return : 
 
 Thefe two ftyles of writing, the Mock-he- 
 roic and the Burlefque^ are not elTential either 
 to wit or to humour. A performance may 
 be truly laughable, in which the language is 
 perfecliy ferious and adequate. And as the 
 pathos that refuks from incident is more 
 powerful than what arifes merely from vehe- 
 mence of expreffion, fo an humorous tale, 
 delivered with a grave look and ferious 
 phrafeology, like Pope's " Narrative of the 
 ■" phrenzy of John Dennis," or Arbuthnot's 
 " Account of what paffed in London on oc- 
 " cafion of Whifton's prophecy," may be 
 more ludicrous than either the Burlefque or 
 Mock-heroic ftyle could have made it. That 
 a grave face heightens the eiTed: of a merry 
 (lory, has indeed been often obferved j and, 
 
 if
 
 400 On Laughter and Ch. 11. 
 
 if we fuppofe laughter to arife from an un- 
 expecled coincidence of relation and contra- 
 riety, is eaiily accounted for. 
 
 ID. Mean fentiments, or unimportant 
 phrafes, delivered in heroic verfe, are fome- 
 times laughable, from the folemnity of the 
 meafure, and the oppolite nature of the lan- 
 guage and fubjedl. Gay thought the fol- 
 lowing couplet ludicrous ; 
 
 This is the ancient hand and eke the pen. 
 Here is for horfes hay, and meat for men. 
 
 But this, if continued, would lofe its effecl, 
 by railing difguft, an emotion of greater 
 authority than laughter. Nothing is lefs 
 laughable than a dull poem ; but flaflies of 
 extreme abfurdity may give an agreeable im- 
 pulfe to the fpirits of the reader. Extreme ab- 
 furdity is particularly entertaining in a fhort 
 performance, where the author ferioufly 
 meant to do his befl ; as in epitaphs and 
 love-letters written by illiterate perfons. 
 Here, if there is no apparent oppolition of 
 dignity and meannefs, there may be other 
 kinds of Riiible incongruity; — a vaft dif- 
 proportion between the intention and exe- 
 cution, between the ferioufnefs of the author 
 and the inlignificance of his work; befides 
 the many odd contrails in the work itfelf, 
 ' — of mean phrafes and fentiments afpiring 
 to importance, of founding words with little 
 ligaification, of inconfiftent or unrelated ex- 
 '- 2 preilions.
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 401 
 
 prefTions placed contiguoufly, of fentences 
 tiiat feem to promife much but end in 
 nothing; not to mention thofe bkinders in 
 writing, and folecifms in hmguage, that 
 fbmetimes give a hidicrous air to what had 
 a very fblemn deflination. 
 
 Modern language, adapted to thofe mea- 
 fures of poetry that are peculiar to Greek and 
 Latin, will likewife appear ridiculous to 
 fuch as are a.cquainted with the clalTic au- 
 thors ; on account of the unufual contrafl of 
 modern words and ancient rhythm. Hence 
 the ludicrous awkwardnefs of an Englifh 
 Kexameter. It looks as if a man were to 
 walk the ftreet, or come into a room, with 
 the pace of a trotting horfe. Between the 
 movement, and that which moves, there is a 
 manifeft incongruity. Sir Philip Sidney at- 
 tempted to introduce the hexameter into the 
 Englifh tongue, and has exemplified it in his 
 Arcadia ; but it fuits not the genius of the 
 language, and has never been adopted by 
 any perfon who underftood the true principles 
 
 of Englifh numbers. Wallis, finding that 
 
 the firft verfe of the common profe veriion 
 of the fecond pfalm was by accident an hexa.- 
 meter, has reduced the whole into that mea- 
 fure; but the found is extremely uncouth. 
 And Watts's Engliili Sapphic ode on the Lad 
 Day, notwithftanding the awful fubjecl, has 
 ibmething in the cadence that almoil pro- 
 vokes a fmile. 
 
 There is a poem well known in North 
 Vol. II. 3 E Britain,
 
 402 On Laughter and Ch. II. 
 
 Britain, which to a Scotchman who under- 
 flands Latin is abundantly entertaining. It 
 was written in the beginning of the laft cen- 
 tury, by the famous Drummond of Haw- 
 thornden. The meafure is hexameter, the; 
 numbers VirgiUan, and the language Latin, 
 mixed with Broad Scotch. Nothing can be 
 iTiore ludicrous than fuch a jumble. It is 
 dignity and meannefs in the extreme ; — dig- 
 nity of found, and meannefs of words and 
 ideas. I fliall not give a fpecimen; as the. 
 humour is local, and rather coarfe, and the; 
 images, though ftrong, not quite delicate. 
 
 1 1. On fome of the principles above men-. 
 tioned, one might explain the ludicrous cha- 
 racter of a certain clafs of abfurdities to be 
 met with in very refpe6lable authors, and 
 proceeding from a fuperabundance of wit,, 
 and the affeClation of extraordinary refine- 
 ment. It is not uncommon to fay, of a per-, 
 fon w^ho is old, or has long been in danger 
 from a difeafe fuppofed mortal, that " he 
 " has one foot in the grave and the other 
 ** following." A certain author, fpeaking 
 of a pious old woman, is willing to adopt 
 this proverbial amplification, but by his ef- 
 forts to improve it, preJents a very laugh- 
 able idea to his reader, when he fays, 
 that fhe had one foot in the grave, and 
 the other — among the ftars." The fol- 
 lowing verfes (fpoken by Cortez on his arri- 
 val in Amxerica) were once no doubt thought 
 very fine j but the reader who attends to the 
 
 imagery 
 
 <(
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 403 
 
 imagery will perceive that they are very ab- 
 furd, and fomewhat ridiculous : 
 
 On what new happy climate are we thrown. 
 So long kept fecret, and fo lately kilown ? 
 As if our old world modeftly withdrew, 
 And here in private had brought forth a new *. 
 
 Here, befides the jumble of incongruous i- 
 deas, there is on the part of the author a vio- 
 lent and folemn effort ending in a frivolous 
 performance. 
 
 The pedantic folemnity of the elder grave- 
 digger, in Hamlet^ makes the abfardity of 
 .what he fays doubly entertaining ; and the 
 ridicule is yet further heightened by the fe- 
 rioufnefs of his companion, who liflens to 
 his nonfenfe, and thinks himfelf inftrudled 
 by it. *' For here lies the point, (fays the 
 Clown), if I drown myfelf wittingly, it 
 argues an a6t ; and an a(5l hath three 
 branches ; it is to a6l, to do, and to per- 
 form. Argal, file drowned herfelf wit- 
 tingly. Other Cloivn, Nay, but hear 
 
 you, Goodman Delver. Cloivn, Giv^e 
 
 me leave. Here lies the water, good; 
 here ftands the man, good : if the man 
 go to this water, and drown himfelf, it 
 is, will he, nill he, he goes ; mark you 
 that. But if the water come to him, and 
 drown him, he drowns not himlclf. Ar- 
 
 * Dryden's Indian Emperor. 
 
 3 E 2 " gal,
 
 4CJ4 On Laughter and Cli. II. 
 
 *' gal, he that is not guilty of his own death, 
 
 " ihortens not his own life. Other Cbuuiu 
 
 " But is this law ? C/o'um. Aye, marry 
 
 *' is it : crowner's queil law." 
 
 Cicero and Quintilian both obferve, that 
 an abfurd anfwer, whether caflial or inten- 
 tional, may give rife to laughter * ; a remark 
 which Erafmus had in view, perhaps, when 
 he wrote his dialogue called Abjurda. In this 
 cafe, the mere juxtapofition of unfuitable 
 ideas may, as already hinted, form the lu- 
 dicrous quality. But if laughter is ever raifed 
 by a pertinent anfwer proceeding from the 
 mouth of one from whom nothing but abfur- 
 dity w^as expecfled, it would feem to be in part 
 occafioned by the furprifing difproportion of 
 the caufe to the effect, of the intelledual 
 wx^aknefs of the fpeaker to the propriety 
 of what is fpoken. " How fliameful is it 
 *' that you Ihould fall afleep ? (faid a dull 
 *' preacher to his drowfy audience) ; what, 
 " that poor creature (pointing to an idiot 
 *' who was leaning on a flaff and ftaring at 
 *' him) is both awake and attentive ! Per- 
 ** haps, Sir, replied the fool, 1 Ihould have 
 " been afleep too, if I had not been an i- 
 " diot." 
 
 Wiiatever reHraint good-breeding or good- 
 nature may impofe upon his company, the 
 imperfe(fl attempts of a foreigner to fpeak a 
 
 * Cic, cle Orat. lib. 2. § 68. ; Quint. Inft. Orat. lib. 6. 
 tap. 3- 
 
 language
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 405 
 
 language he is not mafler of, muft be allow- 
 ed to be fomewhat ludicrous ; for they are 
 openly laughed at by children and clowns ; 
 and Shakefpeare and Moliere have not dil- 
 dained to make them the abje6ls of comic ri- 
 dicule. Nor would Ariftotle, if we may judge 
 from his definition of Comic Ridicule, have 
 blamed them for it. In the perfon who 
 fpeaks with the intelligence and figure of a 
 man, and the incapacity of a child, there is 
 fomething like an oppoiition of dignity and 
 meannefs, as well as of fimilarity and difTi- 
 militude, in what he fays com.pared with 
 what he fhould fay : there is too a difpropor- 
 tion between the performance and the effort ; 
 and there may be blunders that pervert the 
 meaning. Thofe folecifins, vulgarly call- 
 ed Bulls^ are of different charadlers, and can- 
 not perhaps be referred to any one clafs of 
 laughable abfurdity. If, as often happens, 
 they difguife real nonfenfe with an appear- 
 ance of fenfe, and proceed from apparent 
 ferioufnefs though real want of coniideration 
 in the fpeaker, their ludicrous nature may 
 be explained on the principles already fpe- 
 cified. 
 
 12. In language, there are three forts of 
 
 phrafeology. i . Some words and phrafes, 
 
 being always neceffary, are ufed by people 
 of ail conditions, and find a place in every 
 fort of writing. Thefe form the bulk of e- 
 very language ; and cannot be faid to poflcfs 
 in themfelves either meannefs or dignity. In 
 
 the
 
 4o6 On Laughter and Ch, II. 
 
 ■the fublimefl compofitions they are not un- 
 graceful; in works of humour, and in fa- 
 miliar difcourfe, they may be employed with 
 propriety ; and, from the univerfality of their 
 application, they have the advantage of be-. 
 ing tinderftood by all who fpeak the language 
 
 to which they belong. 2. Other expref- 
 
 iicns have a peculiar dignity, becaufe found 
 only in the more elevated compofitions, or 
 fpoken only by perfons of learning and dif- 
 tinction, and on the more folemn occafions 
 -of life. Such are the words and phrafes 
 peculiar to fcripture and religion ; fuch are 
 -thofe that in all polite languages conflitute 
 what is called the poetical dialedl * ; and 
 fuch are moft words of foreign original, 
 which, though naturalized, are not in fami- 
 liar ufe. 3. There are alfo certain phrafes 
 
 and words, which may properly enough be 
 called mean-, becauf? ufed chiefly by perfons 
 of no learning or breeding, or by others on 
 familiar occafions oniy f, or in order to'ex- 
 
 prefs 
 
 * See Eflliy on Poetry, part 2. chap. i. fe<St. 2. 
 
 f Cafcalio's Tranflation of the Old Teftament does 
 great honour to his learning, but not to his talle. The 
 quaintnefs of his Latin ftyle betrays a deplorable inat- 
 tention to the fiinple majefly of his original. In the Song 
 of Solomon he is particularly iijadicious ; d?bafing the 
 magnificence of the language and lubjeft by DiminutivcSy 
 ■\vhkh, tho' expreflive of yaw///cir endca-nnenty he Ihould 
 ha.^ e known to be deftitute of dignity, and therefore im- 
 proper on fokmn occalions. This incongruous mixture, 
 
 of
 
 Ch. 11. Ludicrous Composition. 407 
 
 prefs what is trifling or contemptible. Such 
 are trite proverbs ; colloquial oaths, and 
 forms of compliment; the ungrammatical 
 phrafes of converfation ; the diale^l peculiar 
 to certain trades ; the jargon of beggars, 
 thieves, gamblers, and fops ; foreign and pro- 
 vincial barbarifms, and the like. Thefe, if 
 intelligible, may be introduced in burlefque 
 writing with good effedl, as in Hud'ibras and 
 the Hijlory of John Bull; but ought never to 
 find a place in ferious writing ; nor even in 
 the Mock-heroic^ except perhaps in a fliort 
 charadleriflical fpeech, like that of Sir Plume 
 in the Rape of the Lock * ; nor indeed in 
 any literary work where elegance is expedled. 
 This Cant ftyle, as it is Ibmetimes called, 
 was very prevalent in England in the latter 
 part of the lad century ; having been brought 
 in by the courtiers of Charles the Second, 
 who, to fliow their contempt for the folemn 
 chara(fi:er that had diflinguilhed the prece- 
 ding period, ran into the oppofite extreme. 
 
 of fublime Ideas and woi'ds comparatively mean, has a 
 very bad effeft, and degrades the nobleft poetry almoft to 
 the level of burlefque. ** Mea columbula, oftende mihi 
 *' tuum vukiculum ; fac ut audiam tuam voculam ; nam 
 " et voculam venuftulam, et vuhiculum habes lepidulum. 
 ** — Cerviculam habes Davidic?e turris fimilem. — Cer- 
 ** vicula quail eburnea turricula. — Utinam effes mihi 
 *' quail fraterculus, qui mese mammas matercula^ fuxifTes. 
 " — Venio in meos hortulos, iororcula mea i'ponfa. — • 
 ^* Ego dormio, vigilante meo corciilo," &c. 
 
 * See canto 4. verf. 127. 
 
 and
 
 4o8' On Laughter and Ch. II. 
 
 and affected profligacy of manners, profane- 
 nefs of talk, and a loofe ungrammatical vul- 
 garity of expreffion. L' Eftrange is full of it, 
 not only in his Fables, where burlefque may 
 be pardonable, but even in his Tranilations 
 of Jofephus and Tacitus *. Eachard, by a 
 limilar indifcretion, has transformed the e- 
 legant Terence into a writer of farce and buf- 
 foonery. Nay, Dryden himfelf, in one or 
 two inflances, and perhaps in more, has 
 burlefqued both Homer and Virgil, by in- 
 terlarding his Tranilations with this bes:- 
 garly dialect f . And fome imprudent di- 
 vines 
 
 * He makes the grave and fublime Tacitus fpeak of 
 fome gentlemen, *' who had feathered their nejls in the 
 '' civil war between Cefar and Pompey;" and tells us, 
 that the Emperor Vitellius was lugged out of his hole by 
 thofe who came to kill him. 
 
 f So heavy a charge againfl: To great an author ought 
 
 not to be advanced without proof. In Dryden's ver- 
 
 iion of the lirft book of the Iliad, Jupiter addrefTes Juno 
 in thefe words : 
 
 My houfchold citrfcy my lavjful plague^ the fpy 
 Of Jove's deligns, his other fquinting eye. 
 
 Romer, in the fame book, fays, ** The Gods were 
 " troubled in the palace of Jove, when Vulcan, the re- 
 ** nowned artificer, began to addrefs them in thefe words, 
 *' with a view to footh his beloved mother, the white- 
 *' arm'd Juno : " — which Dryden thus verfifies : 
 
 The limping fmith obferved the fadden'd feaft, 
 And hopping here and there, hivifelf a jcfiy 
 
 "2 Put
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 409 
 
 vines have employed it, where it is mod per- 
 nicious, and abfolutely intolerable, even in 
 religion itfelf. 
 
 Rutherford's 
 
 Put in his word, that neither might offend, 
 To Jove obfequious, yet his mother's fi'iend. 
 
 Homer has been blamed, not without reafon, for de^rad- 
 ing his Gods into mortals ; but Dryden has degraded 
 them into blackguards. He concludes the book in a 
 ftrain of buffoonery as grofs as any thing in Hudibras : 
 
 Drunken at laft, and drovvfy, they depart 
 Each to his houfe, adorn'd with labour'd art 
 Of the lame archite(St. The thundering God, 
 Even he withdrew to reft, and had his load; 
 His fiveeming head to needfid fleep apply''dy 
 And Juno lay unheeded by his fide. 
 
 The paffage literally rendered is no more than thls% 
 " Now, when the fhining light of the fun was gone 
 *' down, the other gods being inclined to flumber, de- 
 ** parted to their feveral homes, to where Vulcan, the 
 ** lame deity, renov/ned for ingenious contrivance, had 
 *' built for each a palace. And Olympian Jove, the 
 '* thunderer, went to the bed where, when fweet fleep 
 *' came upon him, he was accuftomed to repofc. Thi- 
 ** ther afcending, he refigned himfelf to reft ; and near 
 
 *' him Juno, diftinguiflied by the golden throne." — 
 
 It is faid, that Dryden once intended to tranflate the 
 whole Iliad. Taking this firft book for a fpecimen, I am 
 glad, both on Homer's account and on his own, that he 
 did not. It is tainted throughout with a dafli of bur- 
 lefque, (oying not only to his choice of words, but alio 
 to his paraphrafes and additions), and with fo much 
 of the profane cant of his age, that if we were to judge 
 of the poet by the tranflator, we Ihould imagine the 
 Iliad to have been partly defigned for a fatire upon the 
 clergy. 
 Vql.IL 3 F Ylrgil^ 

 
 4IO On Laughter and Ch. II. 
 
 Rutherford's Letters, well known in North 
 Britain, are notorious in this way ; not fo 
 much for the rudenefs of the ftyle in gene- 
 ral, for that might be pardoned in a Scotch 
 writer who lived one hundred and twenty 
 years ago, as for the allufions and figures, 
 which are inexcufeably grofs and groveling. 
 A reader who is unacquainted with the cha- 
 rader of Rutherford might imagine, that 
 thole letters muft have been written with a 
 view to ridicule every thing that is facred. 
 And though there is reafon to believe the 
 author had no bad meaning, one cannot 
 without horror fee religion profaned by a 
 phrafeology which one would fooner expecl 
 
 Virgil, in his ninth Eclogue, puts thefe words in the 
 mouth of an unfortunate fhepherd. 
 
 O Lycida, vivi pervenimus, advena noftri. 
 Quod nunquam veriti fumus, ut pofTeflbr agelll 
 Diceret, Hcec mea funt, veteres migrate coloni. 
 Nunc vicli, triftes, quoniam fors omnia verfat, 
 Hos illi (quod nee bene vertat !) mittimus haedos. 
 
 It is ftrange that Dryden did not perceive the beautiful 
 iimplicity of thefe lines. If he had, he would not have 
 written the following ridiculous tranflation. 
 
 O Lycidas, at laft 
 
 The time is come I never thought to fee, 
 (Strange revolution for my farm and me), 
 When the grim captain in a furly tone 
 Cries out. Pack iip^ ye rafcalsy and be gone. 
 KichJd outy -we fet the beji face on^t ive could^ 
 Arid thefe two kids, t'appeafe his angry mood, 
 J bear j of which the furies give him good. 
 
 from
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 411 
 
 from a profligate clown in an alehoufe, than 
 from a clergyman. Such- performances are 
 very detrimental to true piety ; they pervert 
 the ignorant, and encourage the profmenefs 
 of the fcoffer. Nor let it be faid, that they 
 make religious truth intelligible to the vulgar: 
 rather fay, that they tend to make it appear 
 contemptible. Indeed a preacher, who affedls 
 a difplay of metaphyfical learning, or inter- 
 lards his compofition with terms of art or 
 fcience, or with uncommon words derived 
 from the Greek and Latin, muft be little 
 underftood by unlettered hearers : but that 
 is a fault which every preacher who has the 
 inftrudlion of his people at heart, and is 
 mafter of his language and fubjedl, will 
 carefully and eafily avoid. For between 
 plainnefs and meannefs of exprefTion there 
 is a very wide difference. Plain words are 
 univerfally underftood, and may be ufed in 
 every argument, and are efpecially requifite 
 in all writings addreffed to the people. Mean 
 language has no ftandard, is different in 
 different places, and is applicable to bur- 
 lefque arguments only. Gulliver's Travels, 
 or the Drapers Letters, are intelligible in 
 every part of England ; but the diaiedts of 
 Yorkfhire, Lancafhire, and bomerfetihire, are 
 hardly underftood beyond the limits of thefe 
 provinces. A fermon in Broad Scotch v/ould 
 now feem ridiculous to a Scotch peafant, 
 and withal be lefs intelligible than one of 
 Swift's or Atterbury's. 
 
 3 F 2 Few
 
 412 On Laughter and Ch. H. 
 
 Few things in language have a more de- 
 baiing influence than provincial barbarifms ; 
 becaufe we feldom hear them, except from 
 illiterate people, and on familiar occafions *. 
 Hence, upon the principles here laid down, 
 it might be prefumed a priori^ that to thofe 
 who thoroughly underfland them, they would 
 be apt to appear ludicrous ; efpecially when 
 either the fubjecl, or the condition of the 
 fpeaker, gave ground to expecl a more polite 
 llyle. And this is fo much die cafe, that 
 in North Britain it is no uncommon thing 
 to fee a man obtain a characfter for joculari- 
 ty, merely by fpeaking the vulgar broad 
 Scotch. To write in that tongue, and yet 
 
 * There is an obvious difference between dialect and 
 pronunciation. A man may be both learned and well- 
 bred, and yet never get the better of his national ac- 
 cent. This may make his fpeech ungraceful, but •will 
 not render it ridiculous. It becomes ridiculous only 
 when it is debafed by thofe vulgarities that convey a 
 mean idea of the fpeaker. Every Scotchman of tafte 
 is ambitious to avoid the folecifms of his native dialecfl. 
 /\nd this by care and ftudy he may do, and be able, 
 even in familiar difcourfe, to command fuch a phrafeolo- 
 gy as, if committed to writing, would be allowed to be 
 pure Engliih. He may too fo far diveft himfelf of his 
 national accent as to be perfectly intelligible, where- 
 ever the Englifh language is underftood. But the nice- 
 ties of Engliih pronunciation he cannot acquire, without 
 an early and long rel^dence among Englifli people who 
 fpeak well, it is however to be hoped, that in the next 
 century this will not be lo diilicult. From the attention 
 that has of late been paid to the ftudy of the Engliih 
 tongue, the Scots have greatly improved both their pro- 
 nunciation and iheir flyle within tkcle laft thhty years. 
 
 write
 
 Ch. II. Ludicrous Composition. 413 
 
 write fenoufly, is now impoffible; fuch is 
 the effect of ?ncan exprejGfions applied to an 
 important fubjedl : fo that if a Scotch mer- 
 chant, or man of bulinefs, were to write to 
 his countryman in his native dialecSl, the o- 
 ther would conclude that he was in jeft. 
 Not that this language is naturally more ri- 
 diculous than others. While fpoken and 
 written at the court of Scotland, and by 
 the moll polite perfons in the kingdom, it 
 had all the dignity that any other tongue, e- 
 qually fcanty and uncultivated, could pof- 
 fefs; and was a dialecfl of Englifh, as the 
 Dutch is of German, or the Portuguefe of 
 Spanifli ; that is, it was a language derived 
 from and like another, but fubjecfl to its own 
 laws, and regulated by the pradice of thofe 
 who writ and fpoke it. But, for more than 
 half a century paft, it has, even by the 
 Scots themfelves, been confidered as the di- 
 aledl of the vulgar; the learned and polite 
 having, for the moil part, adopted the Eng- 
 lifh in its ftead; — a preference juftly due to 
 the fuperior genius of that noble language, 
 , and the natural effecft of the prefent civil 
 conftitution of Great Britain. And now, in 
 Scotland, there is no fuch thing as a ftand- 
 ard of the native tongue ; nothing pafTes for 
 good language, but what is believed to be 
 Engliih ; every county thinks its own fpcech 
 preferable to its neighbour's, without enter- 
 taining any partiality for that of the chief 
 town : and the populace of Edinburgh fpeak 
 
 a
 
 414 On Laughter and Ch. II. 
 
 a diale(?t not more intelligible, nor lefs dif- 
 agreeable, to a native of Buchan, than the 
 dialecfl of Buchan is to a native of Edin- 
 burgh. 
 
 The greater part of Ramfay's Gentle Shep- 
 herd is written in a broad Scotch dialedt. 
 The fentiments of that piece are natural, the 
 circumftances interefting ; the chara(5ler5 well 
 drawn, well diflinguiilied, and well con- 
 trafted ; and the fable has more probability 
 than any other paftoral drama I am ac- 
 quainted with. To an Englifhman, who 
 had never converfed with the common people 
 of Scotland, the language would appear on- 
 ly antiquated, obfcure, or uninteUigible ; but 
 to a Scotchman who thoroughly underflands 
 it, and is aware of its vulgarity, it appears 
 ludicrous ; from the contrail between ?neanne/s 
 of phrafe, and dignity or ferioiifnefs of fenti- 
 ment. This gives a farcical air even to the 
 moll affecling parts of the poem ; and occa- 
 fions an impropriety of a peculiar kind, 
 which is very obfervable in the reprefenta- 
 tion. And accordingly, this play, with all 
 its merit, and with a llrong national partia- 
 lity in its favour, has never given general fa- 
 tisfadion upon the flage. 
 
 I have finifhed a pretty full enumeration 
 of examples ; but am very far from fuppo- 
 fmg it fo complete, as to exhibit every fpe- 
 cies of ludicrous abfurdity. Nor am 1 cer- 
 tain, that the reader will be pleafed with my 
 arrangement, or even admit that all my ex- 
 amples
 
 Ch. n. Ludicrous Composition. 415 
 
 amples have the kidicrous characfler. But 
 flight inaccuracies, in an inquiry fo Uctle con- 
 nedled with practice, will perhaps be over- 
 looked as not very material ; efpecially when 
 it is confidered, that the fubjed:, though fa- 
 miliar, is both copious and delicate, and tho' 
 frequently fpoken of by philofophers in ge- 
 neral terms, has never before been attempt- 
 ed, fo far as I know, in the way of induction. 
 At any rate, it will appear from what has 
 been faid, that the theory here adopted is 
 plaufible at lead • and that the philofophy 
 of Laughter is not wholly unfufceptible of 
 method. And they who may think fit to 
 amufe themfelves at any time with this fpe- 
 culation, whatever ftrefs they may lay upon 
 my reafoning, will perhaps find their account 
 in my collection of examples. And, provi- 
 ded they fubftitute a more perfecfl theory of 
 their own in its ftead, I fliall not be offend- 
 ed, if by means of thefe very examples they 
 ihould find out and demonflrate the imper- 
 fe<5lion of mine. 
 
 CHAP.
 
 4i6 On Laughter and Ch. III. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Limitations of the preceding doc- 
 trine. Incongruity not Ludicrous, 
 L When cuftomary and common ; 
 nor, II. When it excites any 
 powerful emotion in the beholder, 
 as, 1. Moral Difapprobation, 2. In- 
 dignation or Difguft, 3. Pity, or, 
 4. Fear ; III. Influence of Good- 
 breeding upon Laughter; IV, Of 
 Similitudes, as connedled with this 
 fubjecl; V. Recapitulation, 
 
 'Hat an oppofition of relation and con- 
 trariety is often difcernible in thofe 
 things which we call Ludicrous, feems now 
 to be fufliciently proved. But does every 
 fuch oppofition or mixture of contrariety and 
 relation, of fuitablenefs and incongruity, of 
 likenefs and diiTimilitude, provoke laughter ? 
 This requires further difquifition. 
 
 I. If an old Greek or Roman were to rife 
 from his grave, and fee the human head and 
 ihoulders overihadowed Vvdth a vaft periwig ; 
 or were he to contemplate the native hairs of
 
 Gh. IlL Ludicrous Composition. 417 
 
 a fine gentleman arranged in the preient 
 form *, part ftanding erect, as if their owner 
 were befet with hobgobhns, and part by- 
 means of greafe and meal confblidated into 
 parte : he could hardly fail to be ftruck with 
 the appearance ; and I queftion, whether the 
 features even of Heraclitus himfelf, or of 
 the younger Cato, would not relax a little 
 upon the occafion. For in this abfurd imi- 
 tation of nature, we have likenefs coupled 
 v/ith dillimilitude, and imaginary grace with 
 real deformity, and inconvenience fought af- 
 ter with eagernefs, and at confiderable ex- 
 pence. Yet in thefe fafhions they who are ac- 
 cuftomed to them do not perceive any thing 
 ridiculous. Nay, were we to fee a fine lady 
 dreffed according to the mode flill extant in 
 fome old picflures, with her trelTes all hang- 
 ing about her eyes, in diftind; and equal 
 portions, like a bunch of candles, and twift- 
 ed into a hundred fiirange curls, we fhould 
 certainly think her a laughable phenome- 
 non ; though the fame objecft two centuries 
 ago would have been gazed at with admira- 
 tion and delight. There are few incongrui- 
 ties to which ciifiom will not reconcile us f . 
 
 Nay, 
 
 * In the year 1764. 
 
 f In the age of James the Firft, when fafhion had 
 confecrated the Pun and Paronomafia^ the hearers of a 
 quibbhng preacher, were, I dcubc not, both attentive 
 and ferious J as the univerfal prevalence of witticilhi. 
 
 Vol. ll. 3 G even
 
 4i8 On Laughter and Ch. III. 
 
 Nay, fo wonderfully du6lile is the tafte of 
 ibme people, that, in the various revolutions 
 of fafhion, they find the fame thing charm- 
 ing while in vogue, which v/hcn obfolete is 
 altogethery^^V)^//?//. Incongruity, there- 
 fore, in order to be ludicrous, muft be in 
 fonie meafure uncommon. 
 
 To this it will be objected, that thofe lu- 
 dicrous palTages in books, that have been 
 many times laughed at by the fame perlon, 
 do not entirely lofe their effect by the fre- 
 
 even on folemn occafions, would almoft annihilate Its lu- 
 dicrous elfeft. But it may be doubted, whether any au- 
 dience in Great Britain would now maintain their gra- 
 vity, if they were to be entertained with fuch a fermon, 
 as Sidtoirs Caution for the Credulous ; from which, for 
 the reader's amufement, I tranfcribe the following pal- 
 iages : — '* Here I have undertaken one who hath over- 
 *' tah.cn many, a IMachiaviUian^ (or rather a matchlefs 
 " vi'Jian), one that profeiTeth himfelf to be a friend, 
 ** when he is indeed -^ f.cnd. — His greatefh (7«2zV_y is but 
 *• diil'embled cnviity. — His Jve threatens a vce ; and 
 *' therefore liften not to his treacherous ^^ve, but hear- 
 *' ken unto Solomon's Cave ; and though he fpeaketh 
 " favovirably, believe him not. — Though 1 call him 
 *' but a plain flatterei', (for I mean to deal very plainly 
 *' with him), fomc compare him to a devil. Jf he be 
 ** one, thefe words of Solomon are a fpell to expel this 
 •' devil, — IVring not my words, to wrong my meaning ; 
 '* I go not about to crucifie the fons, but the fins of 
 *' men. — Some Hatter a man for their own private be- 
 " nefit : — this man's heart thou haft in thy pocket; for 
 *' \i. xhoM find in thy pinfe to give him prefently, he will, 
 ^^ find in his heart to love thee everlafiingly." A Cau- 
 tion for the Credulous. By Ediv. Sultoii, Preacher, quar- 
 to. pp. /\j\, Aberdeen printed, 1629. Edinburgh reprint- 
 ed, 1696. 
 
 quency
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 419 
 
 quency of their appearance. But many cir- 
 cumftances concur to perpetuate the agree- 
 able effecl of thofe pafFages. We forget them 
 in the intervals of reading, and thus they 
 often become almoft new to us : — when we 
 read them a fecond or third time, the re- 
 membrance of the former emotion may ferve 
 to heighten the prefent ; — when we read 
 them in company, or hear them read, our 
 emotions are enforced by fympathy ; — and 
 all this while the wit or humour remains the 
 fame, unimpaired and unaffecfted by acci- 
 dental affociations. Whereas, on the o- 
 
 ther hand, there are many circumftances that 
 tend in time to obliterate, or at leaft to foft- 
 en, what at firft might feem ridiculous in 
 modes of converfation or drefs. For thing's 
 are not always agreeable or difagreeable in 
 proportion to their intrinfic beauty or defor- 
 mity; much w^ill depend on extraneous and 
 accidental connections : and, as men who 
 live in fociet^/ do daily acquire new compa- 
 nions, by whom their manners are in fome 
 degree tinclured ; fo whatever is driven a- 
 bout in the tide of human affairs is daily 
 made a part of fome new ailemblage, and 
 daily contracts new qualities from thofe 
 things that chance afTociates with it. A vaft 
 periwig is in itfelf perhaps fomev/hat ridicu- 
 lous ; but the perfon who wears it maybe 
 a venerable character. Thefe two objects, 
 being conflantly united, derive new quali- 
 ties from each other : — the wig may at firft 
 3 G 2 rail©
 
 420 On Laughter and Ch.IIL 
 
 raife a fmile at the expence of the wearer, 
 but the wearer will a't laft render even his 
 wig relpedlable. The fine lady may have a 
 thc^ fand charms, every one of which is more 
 than fufficient to make us fond of the little 
 irregularities of her temper, and much more 
 to reconcile us to any awkward difpofition of 
 her ringlets or apparel. And the fine gen- 
 tleman, whofe hair in its economy fo little 
 refembles that of Milton's Adam *, may be, 
 what no ungracefulnefs of ftiape or feature 
 will ever expofe to ridicule, a faithful friend, 
 a valiant foldier, an agreeable companion, or 
 
 a dutiful fon. ■ Our natural love of fo- 
 
 ciety, -the various and fubflantial pleafures 
 w^e derive from that fource, and our prone- 
 nefs to imitation, not to mention the power 
 of cuflom, foon reconcile us to the manners 
 of thofe with whom we live ; and therefore 
 cannot fail to recommend their external ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 All the nations in Europe, and perhaps all 
 the nations on earth, are, in fome particulars 
 of drefs or deportment, mutually ridiculous 
 to one another; and to the vulgar of each 
 nation, or to thofe who have never been 
 from home, nor converfed with llrangers, 
 the peculiarities of foreign behaviour are 
 
 * hyacinthin locks 
 
 Round from his parted forelock manly hung 
 Cluflcring, but not beneath his flioulders broad. 
 
 Paradife Lcfl, book 4. 
 
 mofl
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 421 
 
 mofl apt to appear ludicrous. Perfons who, 
 by travel or extenlive acquaintance, are be- 
 come familiar with foreign manners, fee no- 
 thing ridiculous in them : and it is there- 
 fore reafonable, that a difpofition to laugh at 
 the drefs and geftures of a flranger (pro- 
 vided thefe be unafFe(fted on his part) fliould 
 be taken for a mark of rufticity, as well as 
 of ill-nature. Tragedies written in rhime, or 
 pronounced in Recitative, may be thought 
 ridiculous, when one has feen but little of 
 them ; but it is eafy to give a reafon why 
 they fhould be highly and ferioully interefl- 
 ing in France and Italy. That cannot be lu- 
 dicrous, that mufl, on the contrary, be the 
 obje6l of admiration, to which we have been 
 accuftomed to annex ideas of feftivity and 
 leifure, of beauty and magnificence, v/hich 
 we have alvv^ays heard fpoken of as a mat- 
 ter of univerfal concern, and with which 
 from our infancy we have been acquainted. 
 
 May we not, then, fet it down, as a cha- 
 radler of Ludicrous abfurdity, that it is in 
 fome degree ncuu and furprifing ? Witticifms 
 that appear to be fliudied give cfTencc, inftead 
 of entertainment : and nothing fets off a 
 merry tale to fo great advantage as an un- 
 promifing fimplicity of ftyle and manner. 
 By virtue of this negative accompHfliment, 
 men of moderate talents have been known to 
 contribute more to the mirth of the compa- 
 ny, than thofe could ever do, who, with {\\- 
 perior powers of genius, were more artful in 
 
 their
 
 422 On Laughter and Ch. III. 
 
 their language, and more animated in their 
 pronunciation. Concifenefs, too, when we 
 intend a laughable conclufion, is an eflen- 
 tial requifite in telling a ftory ; nor fhould 
 any man attempt to be diffufe in humorous 
 narrative, but he whofe wit and eloquence 
 are very great. A joke is always the worfe 
 for being expelled : the longer it is with- 
 held after we are made to look for it, the 
 more will its volatile fpirit lofe by evapo- 
 ration. The greatefl mafterpieces in ludi- 
 crous writing would become inhpid, if too 
 frequently perufed ; decies repetita placebit is 
 a characfler that belongs to few of them : and 
 I believe every admirer of Cervantes and Field- 
 ing would purchafe at a confiderable price 
 the pleafure of reading Tom Jones and Don 
 Quixote for the firfl time. It is true, a good 
 comedy, well performed, may entertain the 
 fame perfon for many fuccefTive evenings ; 
 but fome varieties are always expe(5led, and 
 do generally take place, in each new repre- 
 fentation ; and though the wit and the bu- 
 iinefs of every fcene fliould come at lad to 
 be diftlnclly -remembered, there will ftill be 
 Ibmething in the art of the player, which 
 one would wiili to fee repeated. 
 
 II. But as every furprifing incongruity is 
 not ludicrous, we muif purfue our fpecula- 
 tions a little further. 
 
 I . A more ftriking abfurdity there is not 
 
 in the whole univerfe, than a vitious man. 
 
 His frame and faculties are human ; his mo- 
 
 2 ral
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 423 
 
 ral nature, originally inclined to recftitude, 
 is fadly perverted, and applied to purpofes 
 not lefs unfuitable to humanity, than dan- 
 cing is to a bear, or a fword and fnufF-box 
 to a monkey. He judges of things, not by 
 their proper ftandard, nor as they afe in 
 themfelves, but as they appear through the 
 medium of his own variable and artificial ap- 
 petites ; as the clown is faid to have applied 
 his candle to the fun-dial to fee hov/ the 
 night went. He overlooks and lofes real 
 good, in order to attain that of which he 
 knows not whether it be good, or whether it 
 be attainable ; like the dog in the fable, lo- 
 ling the fubftance by catching at a fhadow. 
 He juftifies his condu6l to his own mind, 
 by arguments whereof he fees the fallacy ; 
 like the thief endeavouring to enrich himfelf 
 by ftealing out of his own pocket. He pur- 
 pofes to take up and reform, w^henever his 
 appetites are fully gratified ; like the .ruftic, 
 whofe plan was, to wait till the v/ater ot 
 the river fhould run by, and then pafs over 
 dry-fhod. He attempts what is beyond his 
 reach, and is ruined by the attempt; like 
 the frog that burfl by endeavouring to blow 
 
 herfelf up to the lize of an ox. In a 
 
 w^ord, more blunders and abfurdities, than 
 ever the imitators of Efop afcribed to the 
 beafts, or Joe Millar to the Scots and Irifli, 
 might eafily be traced out in the conduct of 
 the wicked man. And yet Vice, ho-wever it 
 may furpr'ife by its novelty or enormity, is 
 
 by
 
 424 On Laughter and Ch. IIL 
 
 by no means an objedl of laughter, even to 
 hofe who perceive in it all the abfurdities I 
 have fpecified. We pity, and in fome cafes 
 we abhor, the perpetrator ; but our mind 
 niuil be depraved like his own, if we laugh 
 at him. 
 
 But can pity, abhorrence, and rifibility, 
 be excited by the fame object, and at the fame 
 time ? Can the painful pafFions of hatred 
 and horror, and the pleafurable feeling that 
 accompanies laughter, exifl at one and the 
 fame inftant in a well-informed mind ? Can 
 that amufe and delight us by its abfurdity, 
 which our moral principle, armed with the 
 authority of Heaven, declares to be iliame^ 
 ful, and worthy of punifhment ? It is im- 
 poiTible : emotions, fo different in their na-^ 
 ture, and fo unequal in power, cannot dwell 
 together ; the weaker muft give place to the 
 ilronger. And which is the weaker ? — mo- 
 ral difapprobation, or the ludicrous fenti- 
 ment ? i\re the pleafures of wit and hu- 
 mour a fufficient counterpoife to the pangs 
 of a wounded fpirit ? Are a jefl and a ge- 
 nerous adion equally refpe(5lable ? In afflic- 
 tion, in iicknefs, at the hour of death, which 
 is the better comforter, an approving con- 
 fcience, or a buffoon ? — the remembrance of 
 a well-fpent life, or of our conne6lions with 
 a vsitty fociety ? — The glow-worm and the 
 fun are not lefs fufceptible of comparifon. — 
 It would feem then, that thofe ablurdities in 
 ourf elves or others, which provoke the dif- 
 approbation
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 425 
 
 approbation of the moral faculty, cannot be 
 ludicrous ; becaufe in a found mind they 
 give rife to emotions inconfiftent with, and 
 far more powerful than, that whereof laugh- 
 ter is the outward indication. 
 
 But what do you fay of thofe Comedies and 
 Satires^ which put us out of conceit with our 
 vices, by expofing them to laughter ? Such 
 performances, furely cannot be all unnatu- 
 ral ; and if they are not, may not vice be 
 made a ludicrous objedl ? — Our follies, and 
 vices of lefs enormity, may, I grant, be ex- 
 hibited in very laughable colours ; and if we 
 can be prevailed on to fee them in a ridicu- 
 lous light, that is, both to laugh at and to 
 defpife them, our reformation may be prefu- 
 med to be in fome forwardnefs : and hence 
 the utility of ridicule^ as an inftrument of 
 moral culture. — • But if we only laugh at our 
 faults, without <^^z/m^ them, that is, if they 
 appear ludicrous only, and not ridiculous^ it is 
 to be feared, that we Ihall be more inclined 
 to love than to hate them : and hence the 
 imperfediion of thofe writings, in which hu- 
 man follies are made the fubjeA of mere 
 pleafantry and amufement. — 1 cannot ad- 
 mit, that to a found mind undifguifed im- 
 morality can ever ceafe to be difguftful ; tho* 
 1 allow, that the guilty perfon may poifefs 
 qualities fufficient to render him agreeable 
 upon the whole. This indeed happens too 
 often in life ; and it is this that inakf s bad 
 company fo fatally enfnaring. This too, the 
 
 Vol. II. 3 H Comic
 
 4i6 On Laughter and Ch.III. 
 
 Comic IViufe, laying afide the cliara(5ler of 
 ii moraliil, and afluming that of a pimp, has 
 too often introduced upon the ftage. But, 
 however profligate a poet may be, we are 
 not to fappofe, that downright wickednefs 
 can ever in itfelf be a laughable objetft to any 
 decent affembly of rational beings. The Pro^ 
 iwked Wife^ the Old Bachelor^ the Beggar s 0- 
 pera^ are dangerous plays no doubt, and 
 fcandalouily immoral ; but it is the wit and 
 the humour, not the villany, of Brute, Bel- 
 mour, and Macheath, that makes the au- 
 dience merry ; and Vanburgh, Congreve, 
 and Gay, are blameable, not becaufe they 
 have made beaftlinefs, robbery, lying, and 
 adultery, ludicrous, (for that i believe wa& 
 not in their power), but becaufe they adorn 
 their refpedtive reprobates with engaging 
 qualities to feduce others into imitation. — 
 But may not criminal adventures be fo dif- 
 guifed and mifreprefented, as to extort a 
 fmile even from a man of good principles ? 
 This may be, no doubt ; for, as the forms 
 of falfehood are infinite, it is not eafy to fay, 
 how many ftrange things may be affedled by 
 mifreprefentation. While the moral faculty 
 is inadlive or neuter, the ludicrous fentinient 
 may operate ; but to have a juft fenfe of the 
 enormity of a crime, and at the fame time 
 to laugh at it, feems impoihble, or at leait 
 unnatural : — and therefore, we may venture 
 to repeat, that moral difapprobation is a 
 more povverful emotion than laughter ; and 
 
 Gonfequently,
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 427 
 
 conrequently, that both, as theu' natures are 
 incoiifirtent, cannot at the fiiine time prevail 
 in a well-informed mind. " They are fools 
 *' who laugh at fni ;" — and, whatever may- 
 be the pracftice of profligates, or of good 
 men under the influence of a temporary in- 
 fatuation, the common feelings of mankind 
 do not warrant fo grofs an impropriety. 
 
 As to Satire^ we mull: obferve, that it is of 
 two forts, the Comic and the Serious ; that 
 human foibles are the proper objects of the 
 former, and vices and crimes of the latter ; 
 and that it ought to be the aim of the fatirid 
 to make thofe ridiculous, and thefe detcfc- 
 able. I know not how it comes to pafs, that 
 the Comic Satire Ihiould be fo much in 
 vogue ; but I find that the generality of cri- 
 tics are all for the moderation and fmiling 
 graces of the courtly Horace, and exclaim 
 againfl the vehemence and vindictive zeal of 
 the unmannerly Juvenal. They may as well 
 blame Sophocles for not adopting the ftyle 
 of Ariftophanes, and infill that Cicero fliould 
 have arraigned Verres in the language of A- 
 nacreon. Nor do Horace and Juvenal admit 
 of comparifon in this refpecl * ; any more 
 
 * Nor indeed in any refpe^t- Different in their views, 
 and in their lubjects, they differ no lefs in Ityle. That 
 of Horace (in his fatires) is indeed fuperlatively elegant, 
 but eafy, fainiliar, and apparently artlefs. The ffyle of 
 Juvenal is elaborate, harmonious, veliement, poetical, 
 and often fublime. 
 
 3 H 2 thaa
 
 428 On Laughter and Ch.IlI. 
 
 than a chapter of the Tale of a Tub can be 
 compared with one of the Saturday papers in 
 the Spedlator. Thefe poets had different 
 views, and took different fubjedls ; and there- 
 fore it was right that there fhould be a dif- 
 ference in their manner of writing. Had Ju- 
 venal made a j eft of the crimes of his con- 
 temporaries, all the world would have called 
 him a bad writer and a bad man. And had 
 Horace, with the feverity of Juvenal, attack- 
 ed the impertinence of coxcombs, the pe- 
 dantry of the Stoics, the faftidioufnefs of lu- 
 xury, and the folly of avarice, he would 
 have proved himfelf ignorant of the nature 
 of things, and even of the meaning of his 
 own precept : 
 
 Adfit 
 
 Regula, peecatis quae paenas irroget aequas, 
 Ne fcutica dignum horribiii fedlere flagello *. 
 
 That neither Horace nor Juvenal ever cn^ 
 deavoured to make us laugh at crimes, I 
 will not affirm ; but for every indifci^etion 
 of this kind they are to be condemned, not 
 imitated. And this is not the general cha- 
 racter of their fatire. Horace laughed at the 
 
 * Let rules be fix'd that may oui" rage contain, 
 And punifh faults with a proportion'd pain : 
 And do not flay him, who deferves alone 
 Ji whipping foi' the fault that he has done. 
 
 follies
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 429 
 
 follies and foibles of mankind ; fo far he 
 did well. But Juvenal (if his indecencies 
 had died with himfelf ) 'might, as a moral 
 fatirift, be faid to have done better. Fired 
 with honeft indignation at the unexampled 
 degeneracy of his age ; and, difdaining that 
 tamenefs of expreffion and fervility of fen- 
 timent, which in fome cafes are infallible 
 marks of ^ daftardly foul, he dragged Vice 
 from the bower of pleafure and from the 
 throne of empire, and exhibited her to the 
 world, not in a ludicrous attitude, but in 
 her genuine form ; a form of fuch loath- 
 fome uglinefs, and hideous diftortion, as 
 cannot be viewed without horror. 
 
 We repeat therefore, that wickednefs is no 
 obje6l of laughter ; the difapprobation of 
 confcience, and the ludicrous fentiment, be- 
 ing emotions inconfiftent in their nature, and 
 very unequal in power. In fa(5l, the latter 
 emotion is generally weak, and never ihould 
 be ftrong ; while the former in every mind 
 ought to be, and in every found mind is, the 
 moil powerful principle of the human con- 
 ftitution. 
 
 2. Further : When facred things are pro- 
 faned by meannefs of allulion and language, 
 the incongruity will not force a fmile from a 
 well-difpofed perfon, except it furprife him 
 in an unguarded moment. I could quote, 
 from blackmore and ivUtherford, thoughts 
 as incongruous as any that ever difgraced li- 
 terature, but which are too fhocking to raife 
 
 ^"7
 
 430 On Laughter and Ch. Ill, 
 
 any other emotions than horror and indig- 
 nation. From an author far more refpedlable 
 I fliall give one inflance, to {how how deba- 
 ling it is, even to a great genius, to become 
 a flatterer. 
 
 Falfe heroes, made by flattery fo. 
 Heaven can ftrike out, like fparkles, at a blow ; 
 But, ere a prince is to perfedlion brought. 
 He cofts Omnipotence a fecond thought : 
 With toil and fweat, 
 With hardening cold and forming heat. 
 The Cyclops did their work repeat. 
 Before th' impenetrable fhield was wrought, 
 &c. * 
 
 Anger too is generally, while it lafls, a pre- 
 fervative againft rifible impreflions ; whence 
 great laughers are fuppofed to be good-na- 
 tured. While all England laughed at the 
 heroes of the Dunciad, Colley Gibber and his 
 brethren were, I dare fay, perfedlly ferious. 
 And if the gravity of Edmund Curll was o- 
 vercome by that *' account of his poifoning," 
 which no other perfon's gravity could ever 
 withftand, he muft have pofFefTed a great deal 
 of philofophy or of infeniibility. Socrates, 
 in the Athenian theatre, joining in the laugh 
 that Ariftophanes had raifed againft him, is 
 fpoken of by old authors as a lingular in- 
 flance of felf-command : which I mention, 
 not with a view to compare the fage with 
 
 * Dryden's Threnodia Auguftalis. 
 
 the
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 431 
 
 the bookfeller, but to fhow, that anger and 
 laughter were fuppofed to have the fame in- 
 fluence on each other two thoufand years a- * 
 go, which they are found to have at this 
 prefent time. 
 
 3. Even pity alone is, for the moft part, 
 of power fufficient to controul rifibility. To 
 one who could diveft himfelf of that affec- 
 tion, a wooden leg might perhaps appear lu- 
 dicrous ; from the ftriking contrail of in- 
 congruity and iimilitude ; — and in fa6l we 
 find that Butler has made both himfelf and 
 his readers merry with an implement of this 
 fort that pertained to the expert Crowdero ; 
 and that Smollet has taken the fame free- 
 dom, for the fame purpofe, with his friend 
 Lieutenant Hatchway. But he who forgets 
 humanity fo far, as to fmile at fuch a me- 
 morial of misfortune in a living perfon, will 
 be blamed by every good man. We expedl, 
 becaufe from experience we know it is na- 
 tural, that pity ihould prevail over the ludi- 
 crous emotion. 
 
 " Many a Scotch Prefbyterian (fays Hut- 
 chefon, in his Reflections upon Laughter) 
 has been put to it to preferve his gravity, 
 upon hearing the application; of Scripture 
 made by his countryman Dr Pitcairn, as 
 he obferved a croud in the flreets about 
 a mafon, who had fallen along with his 
 fcaffold, and was overwhelmed with the 
 ruins of the chimney which he had been 
 building, and which fell immediately af- 
 
 *' ter
 
 432 On Laughter aind Ch. IlL 
 
 " ter the fall of the poor mafon : Bleffed 
 *' are the dead which die in the Lord, for 
 ** they reft from their labours, and their 
 " works follow them." — For the honour of 
 the learned phyfician's memory, I hope the 
 ftory is not true. Such wantonnefs of im- 
 piety, and fuch barbarity of infult, is no 
 obj eel of laughter, but of horror. And I 
 confefg, I fliould have no good opinion of 
 any Prefbyterian, or of any perfon, who 
 could find it difficult to preferve his gravity 
 on hearing it told. 
 
 4. Fear is a paffion, which would I think 
 on almoft any occafion reprefs laughter. To 
 conceal one's fear, one might feign a laugh ; 
 and any paffion in extreme may produce a 
 fimilar convulfion : but nobody laughs at 
 that which makes him ferioufly afraid, how- 
 ever incongruous its appearance may be. A 
 friend of mine dreamed that he faw the de- 
 vil, and awoke in a great fright. He defcri- 
 bed the phantafm very minutely ; and fure 
 a more ridiculous one was never imagined • 
 but, inftead of laughter, his countenance be- 
 trayed every fymptom of horror ; for the 
 dream had made a ftrong impreffion, nor 
 could he for many months think of it with- 
 out uneafinefs. It is ftrange, that the com- 
 mon people, who are fo much afraid of the 
 devil, fliould fancy him to be of a ludicrous 
 figure, with horns, a tail, and cloven feet, 
 united to the human form. Sir Thomas 
 Brown, with no little plaufibility, derives 
 2 this
 
 CIi.III. Ludicrous Composition. 433 
 
 this conceit from the Rabbins *. ' But the 
 Romans, from their afcribing unaccount- 
 able fear to the agency of Pan, >vlK)fe fappo- 
 fed figure was the fame, appear to have been 
 pofTefled with a fimilar lliperftition, in what- 
 ever way they came by it. Satyrs, how- 
 ever, were beUeved to be merry beings ; al- 
 ways piping and dancing, and friiking a- 
 bout, cracking their jokes, and throwing 
 themfelves into antic attitudes ; and indeed 
 when they are introduced in a picture, they 
 generally convey fomewhat of a ludicrous 
 imprefTion, as the fight of fuch an animal, 
 fuppofed to be harmlefs, could hardly fail 
 to do. 
 
 III. Good-breeding lays many reftraints 
 upon laughter, and upon all other emotions 
 that difplay themfelves externally. And this 
 leads me to fpeak of thofe refinements in wit 
 and humour, which take place in fociety, 
 according as mankind improve in polite be- 
 haviour. 
 
 Lord Froth, in the play called the Double 
 Dealer f , and Lord Chefterfield, in a book 
 of letters which fome think might have borne 
 the fame appellation, declaim vehemently a- 
 gainft laughter : — *' there is nothing more 
 " unbecoming a perfon of quality, than^to 
 
 laugh ; 'tis fuch a vulgar thing ; every 
 
 * Pfeudodoxia Epidemka, book 5. chap. 21. 
 . t AO: I. fcene 4. 
 
 Vol. II, 3 I '* body 
 
 n
 
 434 ^^ Laughter and Ch. Ill, 
 
 *' body can laugh." Influenced by a doc- 
 trine of fo high authority, many of my 
 readers niciy, I am afraid, have been incU- 
 ned to think hardly of me, for analyfing vul- 
 gar witticifms, and inquiring into the nature 
 of a phenomenon, which can no longer fhow 
 its flice in genteel company. And therefore 
 it may be proper for me to fay a vsrord or 
 two in defence, firfl of myfelf, and fecondly 
 of my fubjecl. 
 
 In behalf of myfelf I can only plead, that 
 Laughter, however unfafhionable, is a real 
 and a natural expreffion of a certain human 
 emotion, or inward feeling ; and has been fo, 
 for any thing I know to the contrary, ever 
 fince the days of Adam ; that therefore it 
 is as liable to the cognizance of philofophy, 
 as any other natural fa6l ; and that we are to 
 judge of it, rather from its unreftrained e- 
 nergies, than from the appearances it may 
 aiTume under the control of affectation or de- 
 licacy. The foot of a Chinefe beauty is whi- 
 ter, no doubt, and prettier, than that of a 
 Scotch highlander ; yet I would advife thofe 
 v/ho are curious to know the parts and pro- 
 portions of that limb, to contemplate the 
 clown rather than the lady. To be mafter of 
 one's own temper, is a mod defirable thing ; 
 and much more pleafant it is, to live with 
 fuch as are i'o, than among thofe who, with- 
 out caution or difguife, fpeak, and look, and 
 a(5l, according to the impulfc of paflion : 
 but the philofopher Vs^ho would analyfe an- 
 ger.
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 435 
 
 ger, pride, jealoufy, or any other violent c- 
 motion, will do well to take its phenomena 
 rather from the latter than from the former. 
 Jiifl fo, in tracing out the caufe of laughter, 
 I did not think it necefTary or expedient to 
 confine nciy obfervation to thofe pleafantries 
 which the fentimental critic would honour 
 with a fimper : it fuited my purpofe better 
 to attend to examples, which, whether really 
 laughed at or no, the generality of mankind 
 would acknowledge to be laughable. 
 
 That all men are not equally inclined to 
 laughter ; and that fome may be found, who 
 rarely indulge in it themfelves, and acftually 
 diflike it in others, cannot be denied. But 
 they are greatly miftaken, who fuppofe this 
 chara(5ler to be the effedl of good- breeding, 
 or peculiar to high life. In the cottage you 
 will find it, as well as in the drawing room. 
 Nor is profufe laughter peculiar to low life : 
 it is a weaknefs incident to all flations ; 
 though I believe, that among the ivij'er fort, 
 both of clowns and of quality, it may be lefs 
 common. 
 
 But the prefent inquiry does not fo much 
 regard laughter itfeif, as that pleafurable e- 
 motion or fentiment, whereof laughter is the 
 outward fign, and which may be inteniely 
 felt by thofe who do not laugh at ail ; even 
 as the perfon who never weeps may yet be 
 very tender-hearted. Nay as the keeneit and 
 moif rational forrow is not the mod apt to 
 exprefs itfclf in tears ; fo the moll admi- 
 3 I 2 rabls
 
 436 On Laughter and Ch. III. 
 
 rable performances in wit and humour are 
 not perhaps the molt laughable ; admiration 
 being one of thofe powerful emotions that 
 occafionally engrofs the whole foul, and fuf- 
 jjend the exercife of its faculties. — And 
 therefore, whatever judgement the reader 
 may have formed concerning the lawfulnefs, 
 expediency, or propriety, of this vifible and 
 audible convuUion called Laughter ; my ac- 
 count of the caufe of that internal emotion 
 which generally gives rife to it, may be al- 
 lowed to be pardonable, if it fhall be found 
 to be juft. Nor does Lord Chefterfield, as 
 I remember, objetfl to this emotion, nor to a 
 fmile as the outward exprelTion of it, fo long 
 as the faid iinile is not fuffered to degenerate 
 into an open laugh. 
 
 Good-breeding is the art of pleafing thofe 
 with whom we converfe. Now we cannot 
 pleafe others, if we either fliow them what 
 is unpleafing in ourfelves, or give them rea- 
 fon to think that we perceive what is un- 
 pleafing in them. Every emotion, therefore, 
 that would naturally arife from bad qualities 
 in us, or from the view of them in others, 
 and all thofe emotions in general which our 
 company may think too violent, and cannot 
 fympathife with, nor partake in, good-breed- 
 ing requires that we fupprefs. Laughter^ 
 which is either too profufe or too obitrepe- 
 rous, is an emotion of this kind : and there- 
 fore, a man of breeding will be careful not 
 to laugh much longer, or much oftener than 
 
 others ; 
 
 i
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 437 
 
 others ; nor to laugh at all, except where it 
 is probable, that the jefl may be equally re- 
 lifhed by the company. — Thefe, and other 
 reftraints peculiar to polifhed life, have, by 
 fome writers, been reprefented as produ6live 
 of fraud, hypocrify, and a thoufand other 
 crimes, from which the honefl, open, un- 
 defigning favage is fuppofed to be entirely 
 free. But, were this a fit place for ftating 
 the comparifon, we could eafily prove, that 
 the reftraints of good-breeding render focie- 
 ty comfortable, and, by fuppreffing the out- 
 ward energy of intemperate paffions, tend 
 not a little to fupprefs thofe pafTions them- 
 lelves : while the unbridled liberty of favage 
 life gives full play to every turbulent emo- 
 tion, keeps the mind in continual uproar, 
 and difqualifies it for thofe improvements 
 and calm delights, that refult from the exer- 
 cife of the rational and moral faculties. 
 
 But to return. The more we are accu- 
 ilomed to any fet of objects, the greater de- 
 licacy of difcernment we acquire in com- 
 paring them together, and elHmating their 
 degree of excellence. By ftudying many 
 pictures one may become a judge of paint- 
 ing ; by attending to the ornaments and 
 proportions of many buildings, one acquires 
 a tafte in architecfture ; by pradlifmg mufic, 
 we improve our fenfe of harmony ; by read- 
 ing many poems, we learn to diitinguilh the 
 good from the bad. In like manner, by be- 
 ing converfant in works of wit and humour, 
 
 and
 
 438 On Laughter and Ch.III. 
 
 and by joining in polite converfation, we re- 
 fine our tafte in ridicule, and come to un- 
 dervalue thofe homelier jokes that entertain 
 the vulgar. What improves individuals will 
 in time improve nations. Plautus abounds 
 in pleafantries that were the delight of his 
 own and of the following age, but which, at 
 the diftance of one hundred ind fifty years, 
 Horace fcruples not to eenfure for their in- 
 urbanity *. And we find not a few even in 
 Shakefpeare (notwithftanding the great fu- 
 periority of his genius) at which a critic of 
 thefe days would be lefs inclined to laugh, 
 than to fliake his head. Nay in the time 
 of Charles the Second, many things paiTed 
 upon the Englifli ftage for excellent humour, 
 which would now be intolerable. — And thus 
 it is, that we are enabled to judge of the po- 
 litenefs of nations, from the delicacy of their 
 Comic writers ; and of the breeding and li- 
 terature of individual men, from their turn 
 of humour, from their favourite jokes and 
 Itories, and from the very found, duration, 
 and frequency, of their laughter. 
 
 The converfation of the common people,' 
 though not fo fmooth, nor fo pleafmg, as 
 that of the better fort, has more of the wild- 
 iiefs and ftrong exprefiion of nature. The 
 common people fpeak and look what they 
 think, bluiler and threaten when they are 
 angry, atFedt no fympathies which they do 
 
 * Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. 270. — 275. 
 
 not
 
 Gh.III. Ludicrous Composition. 439 
 
 not feel, and when ofFended are at no pains 
 to conceal their diflatisfacflion. They laugh 
 when they perceive any thing ludicrous, 
 without much deference to the fentiments of 
 their company ; and, having little relilh for 
 delicate humour, becaufe they have been 
 but little ufed to it, they amufe themfelves 
 with fuch pleafantry as in the higher ranks 
 of life would offend by its homelinefs. Yet 
 may it be ludicrous notwithflanding ? as 
 thofe pallions in a clown or favage may be 
 natural, which in the polite world men are 
 very careful to fupprefs. 
 
 IV. Tropes and Figures introduce into fe- 
 ^-ious writing a variety of dilproportiona.te i- 
 mages ; which, however, do not provoke 
 laughter, when they are fo contrived as to 
 raife fome other emotion of greater autho- 
 rity. To illuftrate this by examples taken 
 from every fpecies of trope and figure, is not 
 necefTary, and would be tedious. 1 Ihall 
 confine my remarks to the Similitude or 
 Comparifon ; which is a very common fi- 
 gure, and contributes, more perhaps than 
 any other, to render language emphatical, 
 pidlurefque, and affecling to the fancy. 
 
 Every Similitude imphes two things ; the 
 idea to be illuflrated, which 1 call the princi- 
 pal idea ; and the object alluded to, for the 
 purpofe of illuflration. Now if between thefc 
 two there be a confiderable inequality ; it 
 the one be mean and the other dignified, or 
 if the one be of much greater dignity than 
 
 the
 
 44® On Laughter and Ch. III. 
 
 the other ; there may be reafon to apprehend 
 (fuppoling our theory juft) that, by their ap- 
 pearing in one afTemblage, a mixture of re- 
 lation and contrariety may be produced, fuf- 
 ficient to render the comparifon kidicrous ; 
 — of relation, arifmg from the likenefs, — 
 of contrariety, arifing from the difpropor- 
 tion. And that this is often the cafe, we 
 have feen already. — But when Homer com- 
 pares a great army to a flight of cranes, 
 He6lor to a rock, Ajax to an afs, and UlyflTes 
 covered with leaves to a bit of live coal ra- 
 ked up among embers, the fimilitudes, for 
 all their incongruity, are quite ferious ; at 
 leaft they convey no Rifible impreffion to a 
 reader of talte when perufing the poem. By 
 attending a little to this matter, we fhall per- 
 haps be able to throw new light on our ar-f 
 gument. 
 
 Similitudes, ranged according to their con->» 
 nedion with the prefent fubjed, are diftin- 
 guiihable into three clafles. i. One fublime 
 or dignified obje(5l may be likened to ano- 
 ther that is more fublime, or more digni^ 
 fied. 2. An objecfl comparatively mean may 
 be likened to one that is fublime. 3. An ob^ 
 je6l comparatively fublime may be likened to 
 one that is mean. 
 
 I. If one great or dignified objecfl is liken- 
 ed to another that is greater or more digni- 
 fied, as when Homer compares Achilles in 
 arms to the moon, to a comet, to the fun, 
 Z and
 
 Ch.III. Ludicrous Composition, 441 
 
 and to a god *, our admiration is evident- 
 ly heightened, and the principal idea impro- 
 ved, by the comparifon. But that which we 
 greatly admire we feldom laugh at in any 
 circumftances, and perhaps never, when, to- 
 gether with admiration, it infufes into the 
 foul that fweet and elevating aftoniihment 
 which attends the perception of thofe obje61:s 
 or ideas that we denominate fubhme. The 
 emotion infpired by the view of fublimity 
 is alfo in itfelf more powerful than that which, 
 gives rife to laughter; at leafl in all minds 
 that are not weak by nature, nor depraved 
 by habit. No perfon of a found mind ever 
 laughed the fir ft time he raifed his eyes to 
 contemplate the infide of St Paul's cupola : 
 nor, in performing any of the folemn offices 
 of his fundlion, would a judge, a magi- 
 ftrate, or a clergyman, be excufed, if he were 
 to give way to laughter. In vain would he 
 plead, that his mind was at that momenc 
 Itruck with a ludicrous conceit, or with the 
 recoUecSlion of a merry ftory : we fhould fay, 
 that thoughts of a higher nature ought to 
 have reftrained him ; — an idea which would 
 not occur to us, if we were not confcious of 
 the natural fubordination of the rifible pro- 
 
 penlity. An objedl not abfolutely mean 
 
 is rendered fublime in fome degree, by affo- 
 
 * Iliad, xix. 
 
 Vol. II. 3 K ciation
 
 44^ On Laughter and Ch.UI. 
 
 ciation with a fublime idea. A Pibroch *, 
 which in every other country would appear a 
 jumble of unmeaning fovmds, may commu- 
 nicate fublime imprelfions to a highlander Jof 
 Scotland ; not fo much becaufe he under- 
 ftands its modulation, as becaufe it conveys 
 to his mind the elevating ideas of danger, 
 and courage, and armies, and military fer- 
 vice. And let me take this opportunity to 
 obferve, that, in like manner, a thing not lu- 
 dicrous in itfelf may occafion laughter, when 
 it conveys to the mind any ludicrous idea 
 related to it by cuflom, or by any other affo- 
 ciating principle. It can hardly be faid, that 
 the braying of an afs is in itfelf more ludi- 
 crous (though perhaps it may be more dilTo- 
 nant) than the neigh of a horfe ; yet one 
 may be inclined to fmile when one hears it, 
 by its bringing to mind the other qualities 
 of that iluggiih animal, with which the wags 
 
 * A Pibroch is a fpecies of nine peculiar, I think, to 
 the highlands and weftern ifles of Scotland. It is per- 
 formed on a bagpipe, and differs totally from all other 
 mufic. Its rhythm is fo irregular, and its notes, efpe- 
 cially in the qtiick movement, fo mixed and huddled to- 
 gether, that a ftranger finds it almoft impoflible to recon- 
 cile his ear to it, fo as to perceive its modulation. Some 
 of thefe Fibrochs, being intended to reprefcnt a battle, 
 begin with a grave motion refembling a march ; then gra- 
 dually tjuicken into the onfet ; run oft with noify con- 
 fuiion, and turbulent rapidity, to imitate the conflict and 
 purfuit ; then fwell into a few ilouriflies of triumphant 
 joy ; and perhaps clofe with the wild and flow wailings 
 of a funeral procefllon. 
 
 of
 
 Ch.III. Ludicrous Composition. 443 
 
 of both ancient and modern times have 
 often made themfelves merry. And hence 
 it is, that men of Uvely fancy, efpecially if 
 they have been accufbomed to attend to the 
 laughable fide of things, are apt to fmile at 
 that in which others neither perceive, nor 
 can imagine any thing ridiculous. 
 
 2. An obje6l comparatively mean is often 
 likened to one that is fublime : in which cafe 
 it may require great addrefs in the poet to 
 maintain the majeily of Epic or Didactic 
 compofition. Similitudes of this kind, if 
 very difproportionate, are not to be hazard- 
 ed, while the principal idea retains its pri- 
 mitive meannefs. The poet muft firft em- 
 ploy all his powers of harmony and lan- 
 guage, to adorn and dignify it, by intereft- 
 ing the affecftions of his reader : a branch 
 of the poetic art, which, as I have elfewhere 
 obferved *, is univerfal in its application, 
 and may give life and pathos to mere de- 
 fcriptions of external nature, as well as to 
 the mofl fublime efforts of the Epic or Tragic 
 Mufe. 
 
 In the art of conferring dignity upon ob- 
 jecfls comparatively mean, Virgil excels all 
 poets whatever. By a tendernefs of fentiment 
 irrefiftibly captivating ; by a perpetual fe- 
 ries of the mofh plealing, piclurefque, and 
 romantic imagery ; by the moft affecting di- 
 
 * Eflay on Poetry and Mufic, part i. chap. 3. 
 
 3 K 2. greffions;
 
 444 ^^ Laughter and Ch. Ill, 
 
 greffions ; and by a propriety, beauty, and 
 fweetneis of language, peculiar to himfelf, 
 and unattainable by all others ; he makes his 
 way to the heart of his readers, whatever be 
 the fubjecfl : and fo prepares them for allu- 
 fions and fimilitudes, which in the hand of 
 an ordinary poet might appear even ridicu- 
 loufly inadequate ; but which, by his ma- 
 nagement, give an air of grandeur to the 
 meanell things defcribed in his divine Geor- 
 gic. The very moufe that undermines the 
 threfliing-fioor, he renders an animal of im- 
 portance. For his bees we are interefted, as 
 for a commonwealth of reafonable creatures. 
 He compares them in one place to the Cy- 
 clops forging thunder. Yet, inadequate and" 
 even ludicrous as the comparifon muft ap- 
 pear v/hen it is thus mentioned, it has no 
 fuch efPecl as it appears in the poem. The 
 reader is already fo prepoiTefTed and elevated 
 with tliofe ideas of dignity that adorn the 
 fubjecSt, that he is more difpofed to admire, 
 than to laugh or cavil. 
 
 Mr John Philips had a happy talent in the 
 Mock- Heroic, but was not equally fortunate 
 in ferious poetry. In his Cyder, he endear- 
 vours, in imitation of Virgil, to raife the 
 fubjecl by fublime allufions ; but is apt to 
 bring them in too abruptly, and before he 
 has given fufficient importance to the princi- 
 pal idea. Nor has he any pretenfions to that 
 iweetnefs and melody of flyle, which into- 
 xicate the readers of the Mantuan poet, and 
 
 prepare
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 445 
 
 prepare them for any impreffion he is plea- 
 fed to convey. And hence the language of 
 Philips often takes the appearance of bom^ 
 baft ; and fome of his comparifons, inftead 
 of raifing admiration by their greatnefs, tend 
 rather to provoke a fmile by their incon- 
 gruity. 
 
 The apple's outward form 
 Delectable the witlefs fwahi beguiles, 
 Till, with a writhen mouth and fpattering noifcj 
 He taftes the bitter morfel, and rejeds 
 Difrelifh'd. Not with lefs furprife, than when 
 Embattled troops with flowing banners pafs 
 Through flowery meads delighted, nor diflruft 
 The fmiling furface ; whilft the cavern'd ground, 
 "With grain incentive flored, by fudden blaze 
 Burfts fatal, and involves the hopes of war 
 In fiery whirls ; full of victorious thoughts. 
 Torn and difmember'd, they aloft expire. 
 
 Had Virgil been to dignify this furprife by 
 a magnificent allulion, he would not have 
 degraded the principal idea by low images, 
 (like thofe fignified by the words ivrithen 
 mouth *' and fpattering no'ife) \ but would 
 
 * This very wriiheii month feems to be an allulion to 
 Virgil ; 
 
 At fapor indicium faciet manifeflus, et ora 
 Ti'lftia tentantum fenfu torquebit amaror. 
 
 Georg. ii. 247. 
 
 but it 13 to a part of Virgil, where Jimplicity is 
 
 more ftudied than elevation. 
 
 have
 
 44^ On Laughter and Ch. III. 
 
 have employed all his art to raife it to fuch 
 elevation as might make the difproportionate 
 greatnefs of the object alluded to lefs obfer- 
 
 vable *. Thomfon has imitated Virgil's 
 
 manner w^ith much better fkill, in that beau- 
 tiful paflage of his Autumn f, too long for a 
 quotation, where he compares a hive of bees 
 fufFocated with brimflone to a city fwallowed 
 up by an earthquake. 
 
 In the Mock-Epic, where ridicule is often 
 raifed by exaggerating fimilitudes, care is ta- 
 ken to introduce the pompous ecomparifon, 
 while the principal idea appears in all its 
 native infignificance ; and fometimes the ri- 
 dicule is heightened by a dafh of bombaft, or 
 by a trifling circumftance unexpedledly in- 
 
 * In the third Georgic, Virgil, fpeaking of the method 
 of training fteers to the plough and waggon, is at pains 
 to dignify the fubje£t by elegant language ; but his figures 
 are appoiite, and not at all too lofty for the occafion : . 
 
 Tu quos 2idjitidium atque ufum formabis agreftem 
 Jam vitulos hortarcy viamque infifte domandi, 
 Dum faciles animi juveniimy dum mobilis letas, &c. 
 
 Verf, 163. 
 
 Dryden, in his tranflation, wants to rife to higher ele- 
 gance by means of bolder figures, which, however, being 
 ill-chofen and ill-prepared, give a ludicrous air to the 
 whole paflage. He fpeaks of fending the calf to fchooly 
 of forming his mind with moral precepts^ and infi:ru<St- 
 ing him in hulbandry, before he is perverted by bad ex- 
 ample. 
 
 f Autumn, verf. 11 70. 
 
 troduced
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 447 
 
 troduced in the middle of affe(5led folemnity. 
 But, in judging of fimilitudes in all ferious 
 writing, it is neceflkry to attend to the point 
 of likenefs on which the comparifon turns : 
 for two things may refemble each other in 
 one particular, which in all others are very 
 unlike; and therefore a fimilitude may, to 
 an inattentive reader, appear incongruous, 
 which is really proper and adequate. Thofe 
 critics who blame Virgil for the fimile of the 
 Cyclops above mentioned, would do well to 
 coniider, that, though there be no refem- 
 blance between a bee and a huge one-eyed 
 giant, in the iize and frame of their bodies, 
 and as little between their refpedlive em- 
 ployments and manufadlures,. there may, 
 however, be a refemblance between them 
 in other things. The Cyclops are eager to 
 have the thunderbolt forged ; the bees may 
 be as eager in their way to fill their cells with 
 honey : — the art of thunder-making em- 
 ploys a number of hands, each of whom has 
 his particular department ; and this alfo 
 holds true of bees employed in the bufinefs 
 of the hive. Now it is on account of their 
 fimilarity in thefe two refpe6ts '^'^, that the 
 poet compares them ; and in thefe two re- 
 fpecls they certainly may be compared. But 
 I allow, that, in ferious writing, a fimilitude 
 of this kind ought not to be attempted, but 
 by an author of the very firft rank] and 
 
 * See Virg. Geor. iv. 176. 
 
 therefore.
 
 44^ On Laughter and Ch.III. 
 
 therefore, though I vindicate Virgil, I think 
 it extremely hazardous to imitate him. 
 And I am aware of the truth of part of the 
 following remark of Pope, which i quote at 
 length, (though fome exprefhons in it do not 
 perfe(5lly coincide with the foregoing realbn- 
 ings), becaufe it feems to me to throw light 
 on the prefent fubjecl. " The ufe of the 
 grand flyle on little fubjedls is not only 
 ludicrous, but a fort of tranfgreflion a- 
 gainft the rules of proportion and me- 
 chanics : it is ufing a vaft force to lift a 
 feather. I believe it will be found a juft 
 obfervation, that the low actions of life 
 cannot be put into a figurative ftyle with- 
 out being ridiculous ; but things natural 
 can. Metaphors raife the latter into dig- 
 nity, as we fee in the Georgics ; but 
 throw the former into ridicule, as in the 
 Lutrin. I think this may very well be ac- 
 counted for : laughter implies cenfure; 
 inanimate and irrational beings are not ob- 
 jecfts of cenfure; and therefore they may 
 be elevated as much as you pleafe, and no 
 ridicule follows : but when rational be- 
 ings are reprefented above their real cha- 
 racter, it becomes ridiculous in art, be- 
 caufe it is vitious in morality. The bees 
 in Virgil, were they rational beings, would 
 be ridiculous by having their adlions and 
 manners reprefented on a level with crea- 
 tures fo fuperior as men -, fince it would 
 2 " imply
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 449 
 
 ** imply folly or pride, which are the proper 
 " objects of ridicule *.*' 
 
 3. A iimilitude may imply an incongruous 
 aflemblage, when an objed: comparatively 
 fublime is likened to one that is mean. Ho- 
 mer and Virgil compare heroes, not only to 
 beads, but even to things inanimate, with- 
 out raifing a fmile by the conn^aft. And the 
 reafon, as given already, is, that in thefe fi- 
 militudes there is fomething which either 
 takes off our attention from the incongruity, 
 or raifes within us an emotion more powerful 
 than this of laughter. 
 
 Firft, the quality that occaiions the com- 
 parifon may be in both objedls fo adequate, 
 fo fimilar, and fo ftriking, as to take off our 
 attention from the incongruity of the aflem- 
 blage, or even to remove from the compari- 
 fon, when attentively conlidered, every in- 
 congruous appearance. Had Homer likened 
 Paris to a horfe, becaufe he was good-na- 
 tured and docile ; Ajax to an afs, becaufe he 
 was dull ; and Achilles to a lion, becaufe of 
 his long yellow hair; the alluiions would 
 probably have been ludicrous. But he likens 
 Paris to a pampered horfe f, becaufe of his 
 wantonnefs, fwiftnefs, and luxurious life; 
 Ajax to an afs J, becaufe he is faid to h,ave 
 been as much fupcrior to the aifault of the 
 
 * Pope's Poflfcilpt to the Odyfley. 
 I Iliad, vi. X Iliad, xi. 
 
 Vol. II. 3 L Trojans^
 
 45© On Laughter and Ch.III, 
 
 Trojans, as that animal is to the blows of 
 children ; and Achilles to a lion *, on ac- 
 count of his ftrength, fiercenefs, and impe- 
 tuolity. He(fl:or he compares to a rock tum- 
 bling from the top of a mountain f, becaufe 
 while he moved he was irreliftible, and when 
 he flopped immoveable ; qualities not more 
 confpicuous in the hero, than in the ftone. 
 Milton likens Satan to a whale J ; not be- 
 caufe the one fpouts fait water, as the other 
 is vulgarly fuppofed to breathe out fulphu- 
 reous fire, but becaufe of his enormous fize : 
 and, to lefTen the incongruity, if any fhould 
 be fuppofed to remain, the poet is at great 
 pains to raife our idea of the whale's mag^ 
 nitude : 
 
 Him haply flumbering on the Norway foam 
 The pilot of fome fmall night-founder'd (kifi 
 Deeming fome ifland, oft, as feamen tell, 
 With fixed anchor in his fcaly rhind, 
 Moors by his fide. 
 
 But, fecondly, it may happen, even in the 
 higher poetry, that the compared qualities 
 lliall prefent an incongruous alTociation, to 
 the difadvantage of the principal idea. In 
 this cafe, as there is dw oppofition, of great- 
 ness in the principal idea, and meannefs in 
 ^he objedl alluded to, it will be fomewhat 
 
 * Iliad, XX. f Iliad, xiii. 
 
 % Par. Loft, book i. 
 
 difficult
 
 Ch. III. Ludicrous Composition. 451 
 
 difficult to maintain true Epic dignity. It 
 may, however, be done, by blending with the 
 defcription of the mean objecfl fome intereft- 
 ing circumftance, to take off the attention 
 from the incongruity, and fix it on fome- 
 thing important or ferious. UlyiTes, going 
 to fleep, covered over with leaves, after fvvim- 
 ming out naked from a fliipwreck, is com- 
 pared by Homer to a bit of live coal pre- 
 ferved by a peafant in a heap of embers : 
 
 As fome poor peafant, fated to refide 
 Remote from neighbours, in a forefl wide. 
 Studious to fave what human wants require, 
 In embers heap'd preferves the feeds of fire ; 
 Hid in dry foliage thus Ulyffes lies, 
 Till Pallas pour*d foft llumber on his eyes *. 
 
 This fimile, when we attend to the point 
 of likenefs, will be found to have fufficient 
 propriety ; the refemblance being obvious, 
 between a man almofi: deprived of life, and 
 a brand almoft extinguifhed ; between the 
 foliage that defends UlyfTes from cold, and 
 probably from death, during the night, and 
 the embers that keep alive the feeds of fire : 
 yet if drefied up by a genius like Butler, it 
 might affame a ludicrous appearance, from 
 the difproportionate nature of the things 
 compared. But Homer, with great delicacy, 
 draws off the reader's attention to the pea- 
 
 * Odyir. lib. 5. 
 
 3 L 2 ilmt's
 
 45^' C)n Laughter and Ch. IIL 
 
 fant's folitary dwelling on the extremity of 
 a frontier, where he had no neighbours to 
 afliif him in renewing his fire, if by any ac- 
 cident it iliould go out. The poet is lefs 
 
 delicate on another occafion, when he likens 
 the fame hero, toifing in his bed, and fleep- 
 lefs through defire to be avenged on the 
 plunderers of his houfehold, to a man em- 
 ployed " in broiling on a great fire a flomach 
 " full of fat and blood, and often turning 
 " it, becaufe he is impatient to have it roafl- 
 *' ed *." This image is unpleafing and de- 
 fpicable; and the comparifon mud appear 
 ridiculous to a modern reader : — though 
 Boileau pleads, that the viand here mention- 
 ed was efleemed a great delicacy by the an- 
 cients ; though Euflathius feems to think, 
 that a low fimilitude might in this place very 
 ■well fuit the beggarly condition of Ulyffes; 
 and though, in the opinion of Monf. Dacier, 
 the bag ItufFed with fat and blood might, in 
 Homer's days, convey a religious, and con- 
 fequenily an important, idea. 
 
 When the objedl alluded to is pleafing in 
 itfelf, and the defcription elegant, we are apt 
 to overlook the incongruity of a fimilitude, 
 even where the difproportion is very great j 
 the ludicrous emotion being as it were fup- 
 prelfed by our admiration of the poetry, or 
 the littlenefs of the objeifl compenfated by its 
 beauty. That famous paiTage in Virgil, 
 
 • OdyfiT. XX. 
 
 where
 
 Gh. III. Ludicrous Composition. 453 
 
 where Amata, roaming up and down, from 
 the agitation of her mind, and the impulfe 
 of a demon, is compared to a top whipped 
 about by boys, has been called fuflian by 
 fome critics, and burlefque by others *. In 
 my opinion it is neither. The propriety in 
 point of likenefs is undeniable. The objed; 
 alluded to, though in itfelf void of dignity, 
 is however pleafing ; and receives elevation 
 
 * Demetrius Phalereus obferves, that " Elegance of 
 *' language, by exciting admiration, makes the ridiculous 
 ** difappear;" and adds, "that to exprefs a ludicrous 
 *' fentiment in fine language is like dreffing an ape in fine 
 *' cloaths. The words of Sappho, (continues he), when 
 " Beauty is her theme, are fweet and beautiful ; as in 
 ** her poems on Love, on Air, and on the Halcyon. 
 *' Indeed all the beauties of language, and fome of them 
 *' of her own invention, are interwoven with Sappho's 
 ** poetiy. But the Rufl:ic Bridegroom, and the Porter 
 *' at the Wedding, fhe has ridiculed in a different ftyle ; 
 •' ufing very mean expreffions, and a choice of words 
 *' lefs fuitable to poetry than to profe." Demet. Phal. 
 
 § 166. 167. 1 68. An ape drelTed in fine cloaths does 
 
 not ceafe to be ludicrous : and in the Mock-Heroic poem, 
 where the fubject is contemptible or mean, great elegance, 
 or even magnificence, of diction, may heighten the ridi- 
 cule ; of which, the Lutrin, the Dunciad, the Rape of 
 the Lock, and the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, abound 
 
 in examples. But it is probable, that Demetrius is 
 
 here fpeaking of Burlefque y and that Sappho's poem on 
 the wedding was of that character ; — fomething perhaps 
 refembling the Ballad, faid to be written by James I. King 
 of Scotland, and commonly known by the name of ChriJVs 
 Kirk on the Green, And it is true, that in Burlefque wri- 
 ting, as diflinguiflied from the Mock-Heroic, vulgarity of 
 expreffion is almoft indifpenfable. See above, chap. 2. 
 fc^. iv. 9. 10. II. 
 
 from
 
 454 ^^ Laughter and Ch. IIL 
 
 from the poetry, which is finifhed in Virgil's 
 beft manner, and is indeed highly pidlurefque, 
 and very beautiful *. 
 
 What has been faid on the fubje6l of Simi- 
 litudes, when applied to the prefent purpoie, 
 amounts to this : " Incongruity does not ap- 
 pear ludicrous, when it is fo qualified, or 
 circumftanced, as to raife in the mind 
 fome emotion more powerful than that of 
 Laughter." 
 V. If, then, it be allied. What is 
 
 THAT QUALITY IN THINGS, WHICH 
 MAKES THEjM PROVOKE THAT PLEASING 
 EMOTION OR SENTIMENT WHEREOF 
 
 Laughter is the external sign? I 
 anfwer, It is an uncommon xMIXTUre of 
 relation and contrariety, exhibit- 
 ed, OR SUPPOSED TO BE UNITED, IN THE 
 
 SAME ASSEMBLAGE. If again it be aiked, 
 Whether such a mixture will al- 
 ways PROVOKE laughter ? my anfwer 
 is. It will always, or for the most 
 
 PART, EXCITE THE RiSIBLE EmOTION, 
 unless WHEN THE PERCEPTION OF IT 
 IS ATTENDED WITH SOME OTHER EMO- 
 TION OF GREATER AUTHORITY. 
 
 * Ceu quondam torto volltans fub verbere turbo, 
 Qiiem pueri magno in gyi'O vacua atria circum, 
 Intenti ludo exercent ; ille a^lus habena 
 Curvatis fertur fpatiis : flupet infcia fupra 
 Impubefque manus, mirata vclubile buxum. 
 Dant animos plags, 8cc. Mneidj vii. 378. 
 
 It
 
 Ch. Ill, Ludicrous Composition. 455 
 
 It cannot be expeded, that I fhould give 
 a complete lift of thofe emotions that do 
 commonly, in a found mind, bear down this 
 ludicrous emotion. Several of them have 
 been fpecified in the courfe of this inquiry. 
 We have feen, from the examples given, that 
 moral difapprobation, pity, fear, difguft, 
 admiration, are among the number ; to 
 which every perfon, who attends to what 
 pafTes in his own mind, may perhaps be able 
 to add feveral others. 
 
 I am well aware, that the comparative 
 flrength of our feveral emotions is not the 
 fame in each individual. In fome the more 
 ferious affedlions are fo prevalent, that the ri- 
 fible difpolition operates but feldom, and 
 with a feeble impulfe : in fome, the latter 
 predominates fo much, that the others are 
 fcarce able to counteract: its energy. It is 
 hardly poflible to arrive at principles fo com- 
 prehenfive as to include the peculiarities of 
 every individual. Thefe are fometimes fo 
 inconfiftent with the general law of the fpe- 
 cies, that they may be confidered as devia- 
 tions from the ordinary courfe of nature. 1 11 
 tracing Saitimeyital LaugJjter to its flrft princi- 
 ples, 1 have examined it, only as it is found 
 to operate, for the moft part, in the genera- 
 lity of mankind. 
 
 CHAP,
 
 45^ On Laughter and Ch. IV. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 An attempt to account for the fupe- 
 riority of the moderns in Ludi- 
 crous Writing. 
 
 T feems to be generally acknowledged, 
 that the moderns are fuperior to the an- 
 cient Greeks and Romans, in every fort of 
 Ludicrous Writing. If this be indeed the 
 cafe, it is a fadl that deferves the attention 
 of thofe authors who make Wit, or Humour, 
 the fubjedl of their inquiry ; fince the fame 
 reafonings that account for this fa6l muft 
 throw light on the philofophy of laughter. 
 But by thofe people who argue for argu- 
 ment's fake, probable reafons might be ur- 
 ged, to fhow, that we are not competent 
 judges of the ancient humour, and there- 
 fore cannot be certain of the fuperiority of 
 the modern. Were I to defend this fide of 
 the queftion, the following fhould be my ar^ 
 guments. 
 
 Every thing that gives variety to the 
 
 thoughts, the manners, and employments of 
 
 men, mufh alfo tend to diverfify their con- 
 
 verfations and compofitions in general, and 
 
 2 their
 
 Ch. iV. Ludicrous Composition. 457 
 
 their wit and humour in particular. Accor- 
 dingly we find, that alinoft every profefTion 
 in life has a turn of humour, as well as of 
 thinking and adling, peculiar in fome degree 
 to itfelf. The foldier, the feaman, the me- 
 chanic, the hufbandman, is more amufed by 
 the converfation of people of his own trade, 
 than by that of others : and a fpecies of wit 
 fhall be highly relilhed in one club or focie- 
 ty, which in another would be but little at- 
 tended to. We need not wonder, then, that 
 in the humour of each country there Ihould 
 be fome peculiar characfler, to the forming 
 of which, not only the language and man- 
 ners, but even the climate and foil, mufl 
 contribute, by giving a peculiar diredlion to 
 the purfuits and thoughts of the inhabitants. 
 Nor need we wonder, that each nation flioukl 
 be affecfled moft agreeably with its own wit 
 and humour. For, not to mention the pre- 
 judice that one naturally entertains in favour 
 of what is one's own, a native mud always 
 underftand, better than foreigners can, the 
 relations, contrarieties, and allulions, implied. 
 in what is ludicrous in the fpeech and wri- 
 tings of his countrymen. 
 
 Shakefpeare's humour will never be ade- 
 quately relifhed in France, nor that of Mo- 
 liere in England : and tranflations of ludi- 
 crous writings are feldom popular, unlcfs 
 they exhibit fomething of the manners and 
 habits of thinking, as well as the language, 
 of the people to whom they are addreffed^ 
 
 Vot. II. 3 M Echard's
 
 458 On Laughter and Ch. IV, 
 
 Echard's Terence, from having adopted fuch 
 a multitude of our cant phrafes, and prover- 
 bial allufions, is perhaps more generally re- 
 lifhed in Great Britain, than a more literal 
 and more elegant verfion vv^ould have been. 
 Sancho Pan9a diverts us more in Motteux's 
 Don Quixote, than in Jervas's Tranflation, 
 or Sm'ollet's ; becaufe he has more of the 
 Englifh clown, and lefs of the Spaniard, in 
 the former, than in the latter. And a cer- 
 tain French author, to render his Tranflation 
 of Tom Jones more acceptable to his coun- 
 trymen, and to clear it of what he foolifhly 
 calls Englifli phlegm, has greatly abridged 
 that incomparable performance, and, in my 
 opinion, expunged fome of the finefl paflages; 
 thofe converfation-pieces, I mean, which tend 
 more immediately to the elucidation of the 
 chara(5lers, than to the progrefs of the ftory. 
 
 May there not, then, in ancient authors, 
 be many excellent flrokes of wit and humour, 
 which we mifapprehend, merely becaufe we 
 cannot adequately reliih ? The dialogues of 
 the Socratic philofophers abound in pleafan- 
 try, which is no doubt entertaining to a mo- 
 dern reader, but which does not at all come 
 up to thofe expedlations that one would be 
 apt to form of it from the high encomiums 
 of Cicero, and other ancient critics : and 
 luay not this be partly imputed to our not 
 fufficiently underftanding the Socratic dia- 
 logues ? To us nothing appears more pal- 
 try in the execution, than the ridicule with 
 
 which
 
 Ch.IV. Ludicrous Composition. 459 
 
 which Ariftophanes perfecuted Socrates : and 
 yet we knoW, that it operated with wonder- 
 ful energy on the Athenians, who, for re- 
 finement of tafte, and for wit and humour, 
 were diftinguillied among all the nations of 
 antiquity. Does not this amount to a pre- 
 fumption, that we are no competent judges 
 of the humour of that profligate comedian ? 
 Let it be remarked, too, that the fphere 
 mofl: favourable to wit and humour is that 
 which is occupied by the middle and lower 
 ranks of mankind ; perfons in high ftations 
 being obliged to maintain a referve unfriend- 
 ly to rifible emotion, and to reduce their be- 
 haviour to an artificial uniformity, which 
 does indeed anfwer many important pur- 
 pofes, but which, for the mofb part, difqua- 
 lifies them for filling any eminent place in hu- 
 morous defcription. Now we are much in 
 the dark in regard to the manners that pre- 
 vailed among the Greeks and R.omans of the 
 lower fort : and there mull have been, in 
 their ludicrous writings, as there are in ours, 
 many nice allufions to trifling cuftoms, to 
 the news of the day, and to characTters and 
 incidents too inconfiderable to be minded by 
 the hiftorian, which none but perfons living 
 at the time, and in a particular place, could 
 ever comprehend ; — as the writers of thofe 
 days had no notion of the modern pra6lice of 
 illuftrating their own works with marginal 
 annotations. Many authors, too, are lofh; 
 and with them has proba.bIy periflied (as we 
 7 M 2 remarked
 
 46c3 On Laughter and Ch.IV, 
 
 remarked already) the ludicrous effect of in- 4 
 numerable parodies and turns of expreflion, ' 
 to be met with in Ariftophanes, Plautus, Lu- 
 cian, Horace, and other witty ancients, k 
 is at leafl certain, that there are in Shake- 
 fpeare many parodies and allufions, the pro- 
 priety of which we cannot eftimate, as the 
 authors, cuftoms, and incidents, referred to, 
 are already forgotten. 
 
 From the caufes now hinted at, works of 
 wit and humour would appear to be lefs 
 permanent in their effedls. and more liable 
 to become obfcure, than any other literary 
 compofitions. Commentaries are now necef- 
 ary to make Hudibras and the Dunciad tho- 
 roughly intelligible : and what a myfterious 
 rhapfody would the Rape of the Lock be to 
 thofe, who, though well inflrucled in the 
 language of Hooker and Spenfer, had never 
 heard of fnuff or coffee, watches or hoop- 
 petticoats, beaus or lap-dogs, toilettes or 
 card-tables ! But the reafonings of Euclid 
 and Demofthenes, the moral and natural 
 paintings of Homer and Virgil, the pathos 
 of Eloifa's Epidle to Abelard, the defcrip- 
 tions of Livy and Tacitus, can never {land 
 in need of commentaries to explain them, 
 fo long as the Greek, Latin, and Enghlli 
 languages are tolerably underftood ; becaufe 
 they are founded in thofe fuggeftions of hu- 
 man reafon, and thofe appearances in the 
 moral and material world, which are always 
 
 the
 
 Ch. IV. Ludicrous Composition. 46s 
 
 the fame, and with which every intelUgent 
 obferver mull in every age be acquainted. 
 
 I would not inlinuate, that all forts of Lu- 
 dicrous writing are equally liable to lofe their 
 effedl, and be mifunder flood. Thofe muft 
 preferve their relifli unimpared through ages, 
 which allude, — to our more permanent fol- 
 lies and abfurdities ; like Florace's pidlure of 
 an intrufive coxcomb, and the greater part 
 of the fatire which he levels at pedantry and 
 avarice ; — or to writings tranfcendently ex- 
 cellent ; like the Virgilian cento of Aufo- 
 nius, the Splendid Shilling of Philips, and the 
 Batrachomyomachia erroneoufly afcribed to 
 Homer ; — or to cufloms or opinions univer- 
 fally known; fuch as Lucian's ridicule of the 
 Pagan Theology, and that inimitable raillery 
 on the abufes of learning which is contain- 
 ed in the memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus, 
 1 mean only to fay, that Ludicrous wri- 
 ting in general is extremely fubje(fl to the 
 injuries of time; and that, therefore, the wit 
 and humour of the ancient Greeks and Ro- 
 mans might have been far more exquifite, 
 than we at prefent have any politive reafon to 
 believe. 
 
 Such would be my plan of declamation, 
 if I were to controvert the common opinion 
 of our fuperiority to the ancients in Ludi- 
 crous writing. But I am not anxious to dif- 
 pute this point ; being fatisfied, that the 
 comm.on opinion is true ; and that, coniider- 
 ing the advantages in this refped: which the 
 
 moderns
 
 462. On Laughter and Ch. IV< 
 
 moderns enjoy, the cafe cannot well be other-* 
 wife. 
 
 Modern Ridicule, compared with the an- 
 cient, will be found to be, firft, more copious^ 
 and, fecondly, more refined. 
 
 I. The fuperior copiousness of the for- 
 mer may be accounted for, if we can jhow, 
 that to us many fources of wit and hu- 
 mour are both open and obvious, which to 
 the ancients were utterly unknown. It is in- 
 deed reafonable to fuppofe, that they may 
 jiave been acquainted with many ludicrous 
 objects, whereof we are ignorant ; but that 
 we muft be acquainted with many more, 
 of which they were ignorant, will hardly be 
 queftioned by thofe who admit, that laugh- 
 ter arifes from incongruous and unexpeSed 
 combinations of ideas ; and that our fund 
 of ideas is more ample and more diverfified 
 than that of the Greeks and Romans, be- 
 caufe our knowledge is more extenfive both 
 of men and of things. Far be it from me, 
 to undervalue the attainments of that illu- 
 llrious part of the human race. The Greeks 
 and Romans are our maflers in all polite 
 learning ; and their knowledge is to ours, 
 what the foundation is to a fuperflrudlure. 
 Our fuperiority, where we have any, is the 
 confcquence of our being pofterior in time, 
 and enjoying the benefit of their difcoveries 
 and example, as well as the fruits of our own 
 induftry. At any rate, the fuperiority I now 
 contend for is fuch as the warmeft admirer 
 
 of
 
 Ch. IV. Ludicrous Composition. 463 
 
 of the ancients may admit, without difre- 
 fped: to their memory, or injury to their re- 
 putation. 
 
 To compare the late acquiiiticns in know- 
 ledge with the ancient difcoveries, would far 
 exceed the bounds of a fliort Eifay, and is 
 not necefTary at prefent. All I mean to do, 
 is to make a few brief remarks on the fub- 
 jeO:, with a view to account for the fuperior 
 cop'wufnefs of modern ridicule. 
 
 That in mofl branches of philofophy, and 
 natural hiftory, the moderns have greatly 
 the advantage of the ancients, is undeniable. 
 Hence we derive an endlefs multitude of no- 
 tions and ideas unknown to antiquity, which, 
 by being differently combined and compared, 
 give rife to innumerable varieties of that fpe- 
 cies of ludicrovis affociation which is called 
 Wit. Every addition to literature enlarges 
 the fphere of wit, by fupplying nev\^ images, 
 and new opportunities of tracing out unex- 
 pected fimilitude : nor would the author of 
 Hudibras have excelled fo much in this ta- 
 lent, if he had not been diflinguiflied by un- 
 common acquiiitions in learning, . as well as 
 by a iingular turn of fancy. One cannot 
 read a canto of his extraordinary Poem, with- 
 out difcovering his ability in both thefe re-" 
 fpedls ; or a page, without being flruck with 
 fome jocular alluiion, which could not have 
 occurred to the wits of Greece or Rome, be- 
 catife it depends on ideas with which they 
 were unacquainted. 
 
 The
 
 464 On Laughter and Ch.IV, 
 
 The moderns are alfo better inftrucfted in 
 all the varieties of human manners. They 
 know what the ancients were, and what they 
 themfelves are ; and their improvements, in 
 commerce, geography, and navigation, have 
 wonderfully extended their knowledge of 
 inankind within the two laft centuries. 
 They have feen, by the light of hiiiory, the 
 greatefl and politefl nations gradually fwal- 
 lowed up in the abyfs of barbarifm, and a- 
 gain by flow degrees emerging from it. 
 Their policy and fpirit of adventure have 
 made them well acquainted with many na- 
 tions whofe very exiftence was anciently un- 
 known ; and it is now eafler to fail round 
 the globe, than it then was to explore the 
 coafts of the Mediterranean fea. Hence, I 
 fhall not fay that we have acquired any fu- 
 perior knowledge of thofe faculties effential 
 to human nature, which conftitute the foun- 
 dation of moral fcience : but hence it is 
 clear, that we derive a very great variety of 
 thofe ideas of the characfters and circumftan- 
 ces of mankind, which by their different 
 arrangements and colourings, form that fpe- 
 cies of ludicrous combination which is call- 
 ed Humour. 
 
 To be fomewhat more particular : Certain 
 forms of government are familiar to the mo- 
 derns, of which the ancients knew almoft 
 nothing. I mention only the Feudal Syftem ; 
 the influence whereof has in latter times 
 wrought fo amazing a change on the affairs 
 2 and
 
 Gh.IVi Ludicrous Composition. 465 
 
 and manners of Europe. Other invaders 
 have fatisfied themfelves with introducing 
 their laws and cuftoms gradually into a con- 
 quered province : but the fubverters of the 
 Roman empire, all at once, with a rapidity 
 equal to that wherewith they marched and 
 fought, gave new forms to fociety, new ana- 
 logies to language, and a new direction to 
 the thoughts and paflions of men. Ideas of 
 political fubordination, fuch as had never 
 occurred to the mod fanciful projed:ors of 
 Greece and Rome, now took poflelTion of the 
 human mind, and obliterated all the philo- 
 fophy of the ancient republican. — One of 
 the mod immediate effedls of this fyflem 
 was, to make a feparation between the differ- 
 ent orders of men, and to fubjedl human 
 intercourfe to the rules of a more complex e- 
 conomy : — this would be the natural con- 
 fequence of inftituting the feveral gradations 
 of vaffalage, and annexing high prerogatives 
 to the condition of a fuperior. In a repu- 
 blic, the citizens muft often meet together 
 upon the footing of equality and mutual in- 
 dependence ; and, having nearly the fame 
 purpofes in view, and enjoying the fame 
 privileges, will contradl limilar habits of 
 thinking, and be animated with fmiilar paf- 
 fions, and marked with a famenefe of cha- 
 rader, or at lead of external deportment. In 
 a defpotic empire, where all the fubjects are 
 equally infignificant and hopelefs, and where 
 to remain undiltinguiflied, is the beil and 
 Vol. II. ^ N almoft
 
 466 On Laughter and Ch.IV. 
 
 almofl: the only fecurity, pi(5lurefque diverfi- 
 ties of genius and difpofition are ftill lefs to 
 be expe6led. But in a feudal ftate, where 
 the primitive fpirit of freedom predominates, 
 the orders of men, on account of their vaft 
 inequality, mult form themfelves into fepa- 
 rate focieties, which, while their refpeclive 
 privileges and pretenfions keep them acflive, 
 mutual jealoufy or ambition will prompt to- 
 make a figure, each in its own particular 
 fphere, and by means peculiar to itfelf. — It 
 has been remarked, that varieties of cha- 
 racter are more perceptible in England, than 
 in other countries : and I fubmit to the read- 
 er, whether this may not be accounted for, 
 on the principles here fpecified. Were the 
 country-gentlemen of England to live in 
 towns, or to meet frequently in a common 
 forum^ or in any other way to form one large 
 fociety, their peculiarities would difappear, 
 and their behaviour (like that of citizens in 
 a republic) would become externally uniform, 
 or nearly fo : and if they were not confcious 
 of their own independence and privileges, 
 they would not have the courage to think 
 for themfelves, but would probably be (like 
 many of their neighbours) imitators of one 
 another, or infipid followers of the fafliion. 
 Let me not be fuppofed to infinuate, that va- 
 riety of genius and temper is peculiar to any 
 one form of government : — different cha- 
 racters I am fenfible that there always will be, 
 where-ever thero are different men : — my 
 
 meaning
 
 Ch.|IV. Ludicrous Composition. 467 
 
 meaning is, that the manners of individuals, 
 and thofe outward circumflances of Hfe that 
 fupply materials for wit and humour, are 
 liable to be more diverfified by fome forms of 
 government than by others, and by free go- 
 vernments of the feudal form more perhaps 
 than by any other. — The laughable pecu- 
 liarities that diftinguifh Don Quixote, Par- 
 fon Adams, Sir Roger de Coverley, Squire 
 Weftern, and many other heroes of the Co- 
 mic Romance, are fuch as men could not be 
 fuppofed to acquire, if they did not live fe- 
 cluded in fome degree from the general in- 
 tercourfe of fociety. We fmile, when fail- 
 ors ufe at land the language of the fea, 
 when learned pedants interlard ordinary dif- 
 conrfe with Greek and Latin idioms, when 
 coxcombs bring abroad into the world the 
 dialed: and gefticulations of their own club, 
 and, in general, when a man expreffes him- 
 felf on all fubje(!^s in figures of fpeech fug- 
 gefted by what belongs to his own profeiilon 
 only. Now what but habits contracted in 
 a narrow fociety could produce thefe pecu- 
 liarities ? And does not this prove, that lu- 
 dicrous qualities are incident to men who 
 live detached in a narrow fociety, and, there- 
 fore, that the feudal, or any other, form of 
 government, that tends to keep the different 
 orders of men feparate, muif be iavourable 
 to wit and humour, and fo enlarge the fphere 
 of ludicrous writing ? — A general acquaint- 
 ance with mankind, produces a facility of 
 3 N 3 doing
 
 468 On Laughter and Ch. IV. 
 
 doing what is conformable to general man- 
 ners, and wears off thofe improprieties and 
 ilrange habits that divert by their fingula- 
 
 rity. 
 
 But whatever account the reader may make 
 of thefe reafonings, this at lead he mull al- 
 low, that from the feudal government arofe 
 one inflitution, I mean Chivalry, which 
 gave occaiion to Cervantes to invent a fpecies 
 of writing, as fertile of humour, (and of 
 wit, too, if Hudibras be an imitation of it) 
 as any that ever appeared in the world. 
 Need we wonder, then, that the modern ri- 
 dicule fliould be more copious than the an- 
 cient ? 
 
 Religious Controverfy is in modern times 
 a never-failing fource of wit and humour. 
 But in the days of Greece and Rome there 
 was no fuch thing ; the Pagan fuperflitions 
 being too abfurd to admit of controverfy. 
 From this fource we derive many witty par- 
 ages in the writings of Chaucer, Erafmus, 
 Pafcal, and others ; and it is to this we are 
 indebted for Hudibras and The Tale of a 
 Tub, two of the moft laughable (I wifli I 
 cculd fay the njoft falutary) pieces of ridicule 
 that ever were written. It may feem furpri- 
 fing, that things fo ferious and awful, as fu- 
 perftition and enthufiafm, fliould lie open to 
 the attack of the wit and buffoon, as well as 
 of the latirift. Indeed, if we eftimate them 
 by their efie6ls in fociety, and their power 
 over the human mind, they would feem wor- 
 thy
 
 Ch.IV. Ludicrous Composition. 469 
 
 thy to be reckoned among the moft tremen- 
 dous phenomena in nature. And Co they 
 are, no doubt ; and, for this reafon, may be 
 made the ground-work of tragedy, ferious 
 fatire, rhetorical inve6live, and other fub- 
 lime compofitions. But when we confider 
 them as they are in themfelves, and with a . 
 view to the caufes whence they frequently 
 arife, the arguments by which they are fup- 
 ported, and the flrange vagaries into which 
 they have led rational beings, we muil be 
 flruck with fomething ludicrous in their ap- 
 pearance ; particularly, with the vaft difpro- 
 portion, between their real and imaginary 
 dignity ; between their genuine effedls, and 
 thofe that, previoufly to experience, v/e iliouid 
 be inclined to expect from them. And thus 
 it is, that fuperftition and enthuiiafm, while 
 they appear in the light, not of crimes, but 
 of infirmities, m.ay very well be made the 
 fubje6l of Comic Ridicule. But let the torch 
 of wit be brandifl^ed againfl: them with dif- 
 cretion fuperior to that of the Dean of St 
 Patrick's ; left, while it is employed to difpel 
 the gloom, that by invefting the ilirine of 
 thefe dem.ons conceals their deformity, it 
 ihould be permitted to dart facrilegious fire 
 into the neighbouring finduary of religion. 
 Gallantry (by which 1 here underiland 
 thofe generous and reipecflful attentions we 
 pay to the Fair Sex) contributes in many 
 ways both to the copoiifnefs and to the refine- 
 % ment
 
 470 ' On Laughter and Ch.IV. 
 
 ment of wit and humour. Nor is there evi- 
 dence, that this mode of pohtenefs at all fub- 
 iifled in Greece or Rome, at lead in its pre- 
 fent form. There, the women, fecluded from 
 general converfation, were known only by 
 their domeftic virtues, or by crimes that ex- 
 pofed them to public abhorrence ; while the 
 nicer difcriminations of the female character, 
 which fupply materials for comic writing, 
 were little attended to : — nor could they, in 
 that fequeflered condition, ever arrive at thofe 
 improvements in tafle, addrefs, and delicacy, 
 which may be communicated by modern e- 
 ducation, and which in a modern youth may 
 excite a purer and more interefting attach- 
 ment than ever animated a Greek or Roman 
 lover. In fad;, there is nothing in modern 
 manners more characfleriftical than this Gal- 
 lantry, and few things that would furprife 
 an ancient more. It befpeaks, on the part of 
 the men, a mixture, of tendernefs and re- 
 fpect, of deference and efteem, which the 
 politeft gallant of antiquity never thought 
 of; and of familiarity and referve, confi- 
 dence and caution, on the part of the wo- 
 men, which the Greek and Roman ladies, 
 confined to the fociety of their own fex, and 
 intimidated by a rigorous economy that ren- 
 dered their ftate little better than fervitude, 
 could have neither inclination nor opportu- 
 nity to acquire. 
 
 The old Germans, (as we learn from Ta- 
 citus
 
 Ch.lV. Ludicrous Composition. 471 
 
 citus *), and thofe warriors of the north who 
 invaded the Roman empire, were on all oc- 
 cafions attended by their women ; whom, if 
 they did not love with romantic fondnefs, 
 they elteemed for their friendly counfels and 
 faithful fervice, and fometimes confidered as 
 oracles, by whom the gods gave intimation 
 of future events -f. But in the more genial 
 
 regions 
 
 * Tacitus, De moribus Germanorum. — Thucydides 
 was of opinion, that fhe is the beft woman, of whom 
 there is leaft fpeech, either to her praife or difpraife ; 
 and that the name of a lady of honour ought always, like 
 her body, to be kept at home, and never permitted to go 
 abroad. This doctrine, which conveys no comfortable 
 idea of the Grecian economy in regard to the Fair Sex, 
 is warmly controverted by the gallant and good-natured 
 Plutarch ; who, in his treatife of the virtues of women, 
 contends, ** that virtue always deferves honour where- 
 *• ever it is found, but efpecially when it is the work of 
 ** a feeble agent -, and that, therefore, female virtue is 
 *' peculiarly worthy of praife, that not only their own 
 *' fex, but men alfo, may profit by the example." — Ma- 
 ny female characters of high virtue are indeed celebrated 
 by ancient hiftorians and poets ; and innumerable tefti- 
 monies in their favour might be cited from the Greek 
 and Roman authors. Yet ftill the general treatment of 
 women at Rome, but efpecially in Greece, was fuch as 
 we fhould not fcruple to call tyrannical and cruel ; as 
 partaking much of the Afiatic feverity, little of the Go- 
 thic and German confidence, and nothing at all of the 
 liberality, gentlenefs, and affedlionate homage, of modern 
 gallantry. 
 
 f I know not, whether it proceeded from the refpeft 
 the northern nations paid their women, or to what other 
 caufe it was owing ; but it is furely very lingular, and 
 what, on Mr Harris's principles, (fee Hermes^ p. 45.), 
 
 could
 
 472 On Laughter and Ch. IVo 
 
 regions of Afia, the fexes lived on a very dif- 
 ferent footing. Without a grain of efteem 
 on either lide, the men regarded the women 
 with fentiments of untender, though paffio- 
 nate love ; and the women, fecluded from pu- 
 bUc view, and cut off from the means of ra- 
 tional improvement, were infipid and fub- 
 niillive, as flaves mud be under the rod of 
 tyranny. Modern gallantry comprehends e- 
 very thing that is agreeable in thefe two 
 modes of domeftic intercourfe ; avoiding the 
 ilavifh and unmanly principles of the latter, 
 and whatever favours of harfhnefs in the 
 former. With all due regard to external 
 charms, it is Hill more fenfible of moral and 
 intelleclual beauty ; and while it favours the 
 enthufiafm, and difavows the jealoufy, of the 
 enamoured Afiatic, it exalts and refines thofe 
 fentiments of rational efteem which we in- 
 herit from our free-born anceftors of the 
 north. In a word, the fuperiority, vefted 
 by law in the male fex, is now amply com- 
 penfated to the female, by that tender com- 
 plaifance, with which they are treated in all 
 polite nations ; and which, from the ufe they 
 make of it in improving fociety, and en- 
 livening converfation, it appears that they fo 
 juftly defer ve. 
 
 could not be eafily accounted for, that In the Saxon and 
 fome other northern languages, the Sun Ihould be of 
 the feminine gender, and the Moon mafeuline. See 
 Hickes's Thefaurtis,
 
 Gh, IV. Ludicrous Composition. 473 
 
 Is it not obvious, that this gallantry tends 
 to enlarge the fphere of Comic writing ? By- 
 admitting us to the converfation of the fair 
 fex, it brings us acquainted with an entire 
 clafs of charadlers, wherein, though we mud 
 difcern every fort of human excellence, we 
 may alfo trace out (fince nothing fublunary 
 is perfect) a variety of thofe little faults and 
 abfurdities, which Ariftotle, had he known 
 them, would have allowed to be fit objeds 
 of Comic Ridicule. But neither Ariftotle, 
 nor any other ancient, can vie with the mo- 
 derns, in knowledge Of the female character. 
 We fee nothing of it, or next to nothing, 
 in the comedies or fatires of Greece and 
 Rome. Whereas, in the writings of Field- 
 ing, Young, Pope, and Shakefpeare,^not to 
 mention the French and Italian authors, the 
 freaks and foibles of the female world fup- 
 ply a rich fund of humorous entertainment. 
 
 Further : Confidering the form Of inter- 
 courfe now fubfifting between the fexes, fo 
 different frOm that which anciently prevail- 
 ed, and their different purfuits and accom- 
 plifhments thence refulting ; is there not 
 reafon to fuppofe, that tht paflions v^rhere- 
 with they infpire each other fhould alfo be 
 different ? Romantic Love feems to be al- 
 moft peculiar to the latter ages. This pafTion 
 may perhaps be traced up to that fpirit of 
 courtefy and adventure which arofe from clr- 
 cumftances peculiar to feudal government, 
 diftinguiilied all the inftitutions of chivalry, 
 
 Vol. II. 3 O gave
 
 474 
 
 On Laughter and Ch.IV, 
 
 gave birth and form to the old romance, and 
 confequently to the new, and to this day in- 
 fluences in a perceptible degree the cuftoms 
 and manners of Europe. More delicate and 
 more generous than the Greek or Roman 
 loves, this pafiion is aifo more~ interefting, 
 and may of courfe be prefnmed to be more 
 powerful. Shakefpeare, and the author of 
 Robinfon Crufo, have indeed fliown, that 
 even in modern times this pafTion is not ef^ 
 fential, either in tragedy or in romance, to 
 form an aileding fable : but the generality 
 of late writers, if we m.ay jiidge of their o- 
 pinions by their practice, feem to think o- 
 therwife ; and that to every fort of fi6li- 
 tious narrative, from an Epic poem to a Pa- 
 floral, from Amadis de Gaul to the la II pu- 
 blifhed novel, a love- (lory is as ornamental 
 and necefTary, as leaves to a tree, or a mi- 
 ftrefs to a knight-errant. 
 
 As romantic love in its natural and regular 
 procedure, is now become fo copious a fource 
 of joy and forrow, hope and fear, triumph 
 and difappointment, we might reafonably 
 conclude, that in its more whimlical forms 
 and vagaries it could fcarce fail to fupply 
 materials for laughter. And that this is the 
 cafe, nobody in the leafl acquainted with 
 modern life or modern literature needs be 
 informed.^ 1 mention not its laughable ex- 
 travagancies, as they iippear in Don Quixote, 
 Sir Roger de Coverley, and other heroes on 
 record ; and far be it froin me to fpecify on 
 
 this
 
 Ch. IV. Ludicrous CoxMposition. 
 
 475 
 
 this occafion any of the various forms of fe- 
 male prudery and coquetry, of which I al- 
 ways think with the mod profound reve- 
 rence. But the reader would wonder at me, 
 if I did not remark, that to afied:ations and 
 follies, which I fear are imputable to this 
 gentle paflion, we owe an endlefs train of 
 fops, coxcombs, beaus, male coquets, ci- 
 cifbeos, and danglers ; a breed of animals 
 unknown to the ancients ; and which, if 
 they were but as harmlefs as they are con- 
 temptible, mi^ht be allowed to rank with 
 the mofl ridiculous tilings on the face of the 
 earth. 
 
 Other caufes for the fuperior copioufnefs 
 of modern ridicule 1 fliall only hint at; as 
 illuftration is not neceffary to render their 
 effecls obvious to the reader. 
 
 We have a far greater variety of authors to 
 allude to, in the way of parody and bur- 
 lefque, than the ancients had ; for we have 
 both ancient authors and modern : and to 
 an exceilive admiration of the form^er fome 
 late wits have afcribed the origin of a new 
 fpecies of ludicrous character, whereof we 
 have feveral flrong outlines in the travelling 
 phyiician in Peregrine Pickle, and a finiihed 
 portrait in the Memoirs of Martinus Scrib- 
 lerus. There was indeed, in the days of 
 Horace *, a fort of character not unlike this ; 
 
 * Hor. Epifl. ad Auguftum, verf. 19. — 27. 
 
 3 O 2 a
 
 47^ Ois Laughter and Ch.IV. 
 
 a fet of critics, who, defpiling the literary 
 productions of their own time, were perpe- 
 tually extolling the ancient Roman authors, 
 and tracing out divine beauties of ftyle in 
 writings that were become almoft unintel- 
 ligible. But thefe critics are rather to be 
 ranked with thofe of our antiquarians who 
 prefer Chaucer and Langland to Dry den and 
 Milton, and, like Pope's Parifh-clerk, take a 
 kindly affecftion even to the black letter in 
 wdiich the former are printed. The tafte of 
 fuch men may be fingular ; but as their la- 
 bours are often highly ufeful in illuftrating 
 ancient hiftory, it would not be poffible, 
 without violent mifreprefentation, to make 
 them fo ridiculous, as Pope and Arbuthnot 
 have made the elder and younger Scriblerus. 
 It may alfo be remarked, that our cuftoms 
 in regard to drefs change more frequently 
 than the Greek or Roman did. Whether this 
 be owing to our improvements in commerce, 
 and fuperior zeal for varieties of manufac- 
 ture, or to a bad talte in drefs, which muft 
 always be changing, becaufe it has no fixed 
 principle ; or to the influence of the feudal 
 manners ; or to the luxuries peculiar to opu- 
 lent monarchy, — I do not now inquire : — 
 . but a certain facft it is, that the Greek and 
 Roman dreffes were in a great degree perma- 
 nent, while ours are liable to endlefs variety 
 and alteration. A circumftance this, that 
 may at firft view feem unconnedled with the 
 prefent fubjecl ; but to which the admirers 
 
 of
 
 Ch. IV. Ludicrous Composition. 477 
 
 of the Rape of the Lock, Spectator, and Tat- 
 ler, are indebted for fome of the fineil hu- 
 mour that ever was written. 
 
 Commerce, and all the arts connedled with 
 it, are more fuccefsfuUy cultivated by mo- 
 dern, than they were by ancient nations. 
 Hence a variety of new employments, which, 
 by dividing mankind into feparate profeiTions 
 and focieties, multiply human charadlers, and 
 enlarge the fphere of humour. And hence, 
 as was obferved, an infinite number of new 
 objects and ideas, that extend the bounds of 
 wit, by fuggefting new fources of compari- 
 
 fon, and ludicrous arrangement. The art 
 
 of Printing, too, by diffaiing literature, has 
 made the characflers of mankind better 
 known, and raifed up a greater variety of au- 
 thors, whofe different purfuits and adven- 
 tures yield materials for that mode of ludi- 
 crous writing, in which the Dunciad may be 
 confidered as the moit capital performance. 
 
 To a full examination of the prefent topic, 
 it would be further neceiTary, to give a criti- 
 cal analyiis of our moft celebrated works in 
 wit and humour, and of the human cha- 
 radiers difplayed in them ; and to inquire, 
 from what external caufes the laughable pcr- 
 culiarities in each characfter arile; and how 
 far the fame or fimilar caufes could take place 
 in ancient times. But this I leave as a theme 
 to amufe the leifure of future critics ; and 
 fhall conclude with a remark or two on the 
 fuperior refinement of modern ridicule. 
 
 IL If
 
 478 On Laughter and Ch.IV. 
 
 11. If modern ridicule be more copious than 
 the ancient, of which there feems to be fuf- 
 ficient proof, it muft alfo, according to the 
 natural progrefs of things, be more refined. 
 For, as was hinted already, the more con- 
 yerfant we are among pleafurable objedls .of 
 any particular clafs, the more figacious we 
 become in eftimating their comparative ex- 
 cellence, and our tafte of courfe becomes 
 more delicate. When a favage or clown fees 
 a picfture for the firft time, his wonder is 
 raifed to the highefl pitch, even tho' the me- 
 rit of the piece be but fmall ; — he never be- 
 held any thing fo admirable ; he can con- 
 ceive nothing beyond it. Make him gra- 
 dually acquainted with a number of piclures, 
 and engage him to fix his attention upon 
 each, and you fliall fee him of his own ac- 
 cord begin to form comparifons ; to difcover 
 beauties in one, which are not in another, or 
 not in the fame degree ; and at laft, perhaps, 
 to find out imperfections in the beft, and to 
 conceive fomething in the art (till better than 
 
 he has ever feen. Homely jokes delight 
 
 the vulgar, becaufe their knowledge of ludi- 
 crous combination is limited. Let this know- 
 ledge be extended ; let them hear varieties 
 of converfation, or read the works of witty 
 authors, and their tafle will improve of itfelf : 
 and thofe jokes will at length appear defpica- 
 ble, which formerly they miftook for excel- 
 lent. That the humour of Addifon and Pope 
 {liould be more refined than that of Lucian 
 
 and
 
 Ch.IV. Ludicrous Composition. 479 
 
 and Horace, that Swift fliould be more de- 
 licate than Rabelais, and Foote than Ari- 
 ftophanes, is therefore not more furprifing, 
 than that the man of obfervation, who has 
 made the tour of Europe, fhould be a better 
 judge of elegance in building and furniture, 
 than he who has never travelled beyond the 
 frontier of his native province. 
 
 But, if this progrefs towards perfe<5lion of 
 tafte hold univerfally, why, it may be faid, 
 do not we excel the ancients in our taftc 
 of* books and writing in general ; fince it is 
 plain, that in this refpecl alfo we have more 
 experience than they ? I anfwer : If all the 
 books we have, the new as well as old, had 
 been written in a good tafte, and we as at- 
 tentive readers as the ancients were, it is not 
 abfurd to fuppofe, that our tafte in writing 
 might have been more perfecft than theirs. 
 But we have fuch numbers of books to re^d, 
 and fo many of them trifling, and fo many 
 unflviifully written, that we are apt to lofe 
 the habit of attentive ftudy, and even to con- 
 trail a liking to inelegant or faulty compofi- 
 tion. For inattention long indulged fettles 
 into a habit ; and the fame fufceptibility of 
 nature, which in time reconciles fome men 
 to the relifti of tobacco and ftrong liquors, 
 may alfo gradually admit a depravation in 
 the mental tafte of thofe to whom deformity 
 and impropriety have long been familiar. 
 
 • 1 fuppofed the clown, the favage, and 
 
 the traveller, attentive to what they faw ; and 
 
 I
 
 4§o On Laughter and Gh.IV. 
 
 I did not fuppofe every thing they faw to be 
 bad in its kind. Had every thing been bad^ 
 or they inattentive, it w^ould have been im- 
 poiTible for them, in the cafe I mentioned, 
 ever to acquire a tafte in painting, building, 
 or furniture : arid were a man never to hear 
 any but coarfe and vulgar jokes, I queftion 
 whether his tafte in ridicule would ever im- 
 prove, though he were to hear them by hun- 
 dreds and thoufands every day. And 
 
 therefore I admit, that the progrefs above 
 inentioned, towards perfedion of tafte, holds, 
 not univerfally, but only in certain circum- 
 ftances ; and that the fuperior refinement of 
 modern ridicule cannot be accounted for, 
 from its fuperior copioufnefs^ unlefs we can 
 prove it to have received cultivation from 
 the influence of other caufes peculiar to the 
 condition of men in inodern times. 
 
 And, in order to prove this, I obferve, 
 lecondly. That what we call the point of ho- 
 nour (though in many refpedls blameable) 
 has, in conjunction with a fpirit of courtefy 
 derived from the fame Feudal origin, tend- 
 ed greatly in thefe latter times to check in- 
 temperate paftion, and regulate human 
 fpeech. And nothing, perhaps, has more 
 eifeclually foftened converfation, by difcoun- 
 tenancing indelicacy, and by promoting good 
 humour, gentle manners, and a defire to 
 pleafe, than the fociety of the fair fex ; an 
 acquifition whereof neither the fages of Greece 
 and Rome, nor the voluptuaries of Afia, ever 
 2 knew
 
 Ch.IV. Ludicrous Composition. 431 
 
 knew the value ; and for which Europe is 
 indebted to the refinements pecuUar to mo- 
 dern gallantry. Nor is it only by (ludying 
 to avoid whatever might be offenfive to fe- 
 male delicacy, that we derive improvement 
 from our amiable partners infocial life. They 
 fet us an example, from which it is our own 
 fault if we receive no benefit. The livelinefk 
 of their fancy, the purity of their tafte, and 
 the unfludied eafe of their elocution, give to 
 modern converfation an elegance and a va- 
 riety, which the Socratic fchool itfelf would 
 have been proud to take for a model. 
 
 My third remark is. That political infti- 
 tutions have alfo an effecft on ludicrous wri- 
 ting, as on every thing elfe in which that 
 political creature Man is concerned. The 
 mirth of a favagc, when he gives way to 
 it, is mere madnefs ; as his forrow approaches 
 for the moft part to defpair. But favages 
 are little addidted to jocularity : their looks, 
 their fongs, and their mufic are folemn ; they 
 are continually engroffed by emotions more 
 powerful than this of laughter ; — a neceffary 
 effedl of their violent temper, and of their 
 needy and perilous condition. Wit and hu- 
 mour, and thofe nicer improvements of 
 fpeech that minifter to pleafure rather than 
 necefTity, feldom appear among a people, till 
 public peace be tolerably fecure. And as mo- 
 narchy is, of all governments, the leaft liable 
 to either external alTault, or intefline com- 
 motion, and leaves the fubjed; moft at leiiurc 
 
 Vol. IL 3 P for
 
 482 On Laughter and Gi. IV. 
 
 for botli private biifinefs and private amufe- 
 nieiit ; it would feem of courfe more favour- 
 able to every fpecies of comic writing, than 
 Jiny of the republican forms ; in which im- 
 portant affairs, and confequently important 
 emotions, mufl ever be prefent to the fo- 
 ber-minded citizen. And where perfons of all 
 ranks,, and thofe ranks very different, often 
 meet in fociety, and the public welfare de- 
 pends on their living on good terms with one 
 another, each within the fphere of his own 
 })rerogative, (a ftate of things not to be look- 
 ed for in Democracy or Defpotifm, but very 
 compatible with limited monarchy), — po- 
 litenefs of behaviour mufl needs take place; 
 while the great find it for their interefl to 
 pleafe the people; and the people, to recom- 
 mend themfeives to the favour of the great. 
 This general polltenefs, which is one diflin- 
 guiibing characleriftlc of monarchy, and 
 which the example of a court is alone fufH- 
 eient to make faililonable, muft ever be un- 
 friendly to rudenefs of fpeech, and mull 
 tlierefore refine wit and humour, while it po- 
 iiihes converfation. Now it is obfervable, 
 that in modern tim.es Monarchy gives the 
 law to thofe parts of the world that afpire to 
 a literary character, as Republican govern- 
 ment did of old. Does not this, added to 
 the former confideratlon, account in fome 
 meafure for the faperior refinement of the 
 modern wit and humour ? 
 
 And now, notwithflanding the levity of 
 
 many
 
 Ch. IV. Ludicrous Composition. 483 
 
 many of thefe remarks, and the unintercfting 
 title prefixed to them, may we not be per- 
 mitted to obferve in conclufion, that the 
 meek and benevolent fpirit of our religion 
 has had a powerfid influence in fweetening 
 and refining all the comforts of human fo- 
 ciety, and Converfation among the reft ? — 
 That humility, gentlenefs, and kind affec- 
 tion, whereof good-breeding ever affuraes the 
 outward form, does not Chriflianity cftabiiih 
 in the heart as a permanent principle of in- 
 difpenfable obligation ? That generous lova 
 of humankind, which prompts the Chriifian 
 to watch for the good of others, and embrace 
 every opportunity of promoting, not only 
 their w^elfare, but their virtue, taking care 
 never to offend, and avoiding even the ap- 
 pearance of evil, — would not the man of 
 tafle acknowledge to be the very perfe6lion 
 and heroiim of polite beliaviour ? Muil not 
 the affecling viev/ that true rehgion exhibits, 
 of all mankind bearing to one another the re- 
 lation of brethreijj impart keennefs and ad:i- 
 vity to thofe tender fympatliies of our fb- 
 cial nature, whereof the language of good- 
 breeding is fo remarkably expreihve ? Cliri- 
 ftianity commands, not the fuppreflion on- 
 ly, but the extinction, of every indelicate 
 thought, arrogant emotion, and malevolent 
 purpole : — would converfation ftand in need 
 ■of any further refinement, if this law were 
 as punctually fulfilled, as it is carneiViy re- 
 commended ? What is more efhcacious, 
 
 ^ P 3 tha;i
 
 484 On Laughter and Ch.lV. 
 
 than habitual good-humour, in rendering 
 the iatercourfe of fociety agreeable, and in 
 keeping at a diftance all intemperate paf- 
 iion, and all harllinefs of fentiment and 
 language ? — and of what religion, but the 
 Chriilian, can we fay with truth, that it 
 fupplies, in every flate of human affairs, a 
 perpetual fource of inward confolation ? In 
 a word, true Chriflianity, alone and at once, 
 transforms a barbarian into a man ; a bru- 
 tal, felfiih, and melancholy favage, into a 
 kind, a generous, and a chearful aifociate. 
 
 Will it be faid, that delicacy of fpeech and 
 behaviour may be communicated and acqui- 
 red by the means recommended in fome late 
 Letters, namely, by external applications, 
 and by the ufe of certain mechanical phrafes, 
 looks, and geftures ? As well may the paint- 
 ing of the cheeks and eye-brows be prefcri- 
 bcd as a prefervative from the rheumatifm, 
 and perfumed fnufT as an antidote againil 
 hunger and thiriL He has learned little of 
 the true interefts of humai^ fociety, and no- 
 thing at all of the human mind, who does 
 not know, that without fincerity there could 
 not be either happinefs or comfort upon 
 earth ; that permanent propriety of condu6l 
 has its fource in the heart; and that, if all 
 inen believed one another to be knaves and 
 hypocrites, politenefs of language and atti- 
 tude, inllead of being graceful, would ap- 
 pear as ridiculous, as the chatter of a par- 
 rot, or the grin of a monkey. Who, that has 
 
 the
 
 Ch. IV. Ludicrous Composition. 485 
 
 the fpirit of a man, could take pleafure in 
 profeflions of good- will, which he knew to 
 be infincere ? Who, that is not confcious of 
 ibme bafenefs in himfelf, could ferioufly i- 
 magine, that mankind in general might be 
 rendered fufceptible of fuch pleafure ? I 
 fpeak not now of the immorality of that new 
 fyftem ; whichj'^'if I were inclined to fay of it 
 what I think, would give deeper, as well as 
 louder, tones to my language : I fpeak only 
 of its abfurdity and folly. And ablurd, and 
 foolifh, in the extreme, as well as wicked, 
 muft every fyftem be, that aims to disjoin 
 delicacy from virtue, or virtue from religion. 
 Let us not imagine, becaufe the influence 
 of religion is not fo powerful as it ought to 
 be, that therefore it is not powerful at all. 
 What human creatures would have been at 
 this day, if the light of the gofpel had not 
 yet arifen upon the earth, we cannot pofitive- 
 ly tell : but were this a proper place for ex- 
 plaining the ground of fuch a conieclure, I 
 think I could demonftrate the reafonablenefs 
 of fuppoiing, that they muft have been, be- 
 yond ail comparifon, more wretched than 
 they are. At a time, when it was debafed 
 by the moft lamentable fuperftitions, religion 
 taught courtefy and fobernefs to the fons of 
 chivalry : a circumftance whereof the falu- 
 tary effects are ftili difcernible in the man- 
 ners of Europe. How much greater may we 
 prefume its efficacy to be in tliefe days, when 
 'it is taught in Its purity, and may be under- 
 2 ftood
 
 486 Ok Laughter, &c. Ch.IV. 
 
 Hood by all ! — But infidels, it may be ob- 
 je6led, are as eminent for polite behaviour, 
 as believers. Granting this to be true, which 
 however it is impoHible to prove, 1 would 
 only defire thofe, who fecond the objecftion, 
 to confider, whether the prefent fyftem of 
 politeneis arofe among infidels or Chriflians y 
 Vvrhether it would have arifeft at all, if pa- 
 ganifm had continued to prevail ; whether 
 feveral of its difliguifliing charad:ers be not 
 derived from the Chriftian religion ; whe- 
 ther the light of reafon, unaided by the ra- 
 diance of the gofpel, would have difpelled 
 fo foon that night of intellectual darknefs 
 which followed the fubverfion of the Roman 
 empire : — and, laftly, whether it be not pru- 
 dent for a few individuals (unbelievers being 
 flill, as I trufl, the fmaller number in thefe 
 parts of the world) to conform to the man- 
 ners of the many, efpecially when thofe man- 
 ners are univerfally felt and acknowledged 
 to be more agreeable than any other. The 
 influence of true religion, in humanizing fo- 
 ciety, and refining converfation, is indeed ve^ 
 ry great. And if fo, I could not, confiilent* 
 Iv with my prefent plan, overlook it. Nor 
 is it, in my opinion, pollibie for a phiiofo- 
 pher, unlefs blinded by ignorance, checked 
 by timidity, or led ailray by prejudice, to en- 
 ter into any inquiry relating either to morals 
 or to manners, without paying fome tribute 
 of praife to that Divine Inftitution. 
 
 THE END.
 
 «<^ '•^^ '-^5 1^^ t^? <-<5>^ '<;>^ t.tf>l '-<J?^ «-tf*^ •.^>? t^l 5.^ <<:?^ '-^5 1^? t«?> 
 
 REMARKS 
 
 ON THE UTILITY OF 
 
 CLASSICAL LEARNING. 
 
 Ego multos hojiiines excellenti animo ac 'vir- 
 tute fuijjey et fine doclrina^ natune ipftus habitu 
 prope divino^ per feipfos et moderatos^ et gra- 
 'ves, extitijfe fateor, Etiam illiid adjiingo^ fte- 
 piiLS ad laudem atque 'virtutem naturam Jine doc- 
 trina^ quam fine natura <valuiffe doBrlnam. At- 
 que idem ego contendo^ cum ad naturam exim'ia?n 
 atque illujirem accejferit ratio qiidsdam conforma- 
 tioque doclrin(i:^ turn illud nefcio quid prceclarum 
 ac Jingulare folere ex'ifiere. — ^lod fi non hie 
 tantus fruclus oJienderetw\ et Ji ex his Jliidiis 
 deleclatio fola peteretur ; tamen, ut opinor, hanc 
 animi re?niffionem humanijjimam ac liberatijjt?nam 
 judicaretis. — Hac jludia adolefcentiam aiunty 
 feneButem obleBant^ fecundas res oniant, ad- 
 njerfis perfugium ac Jolatium pnebent^ delect ant 
 domi^ non impediunt foris^ pernoclant nobifcum^ 
 peregrinantur, rujiicantur, 
 
 Cicero pro Archia, cap. 7.
 
 REMARKS 
 
 ON THE UTILITY OF 
 
 CLASSICAL LEARNING 
 Written in the year 1769, 
 
 "^ H E calumniators of the Greek and 
 Roman Learning have not been 
 few in thefe latter times. Perrault, 
 La Motte, and Teraffon, arraigned 
 the tafle of the ancients ; and Des Cartes 
 and Pvlalebranche affecfted to defpife their 
 philofophy. Yet it feemed to be allowed in 
 general, that the ftudy of the ClalTic Authors 
 was a neceflary part of polite education. 
 This, however, has of late been not only 
 queftioned, but denied : and it has been 
 laid, that every thing worth preferving of 
 ancient literature might be more eafily tranf-- 
 mitted, both to us and to poflerity, through 
 the channel of the modern lanp-uag-es, than 
 through that of the Greek and Latin. On 
 this fubjecl, feveral flight efi'ays have been 
 written ; the authors of which ieem to think, 
 that the human mind, being now arrived at 
 Vol, II. 3 Q^ maturity,^ 
 
 c
 
 490 On the Utility of 
 
 maturity, may fafely be left to itfelf ; and 
 that the Claffic authors, thofe great inftrudl- 
 ors of former times, are become an incum- 
 brance to the more fprightly genius of the 
 prefent. 
 
 *' For who, that is an adept in the philo- 
 fophy of Locke and Newton, can have any 
 need of Ariflotle ? What ufeful precept 
 of the Socratic fchool has been overlook- 
 ed by modern moralifts ? Is not Geome- 
 try as fairly, and as fully difplayed in the 
 French and Englifh tongues, as in the un- 
 known dialedis of Archimedes, ApoUo- 
 nius, and Euclid ? Why have recourfe 
 to Demofthenes and Cicero, for examples 
 in an art, which Maffillon, Bourdaloue, 
 and the French academicians, (to fay no- 
 thing of the orators of our own country), 
 have carried to perfedlion ? Are we not 
 taught by Voltaire and his Editors, who, 
 though ignorant of Greek, are well read 
 in Madam Dacier's tranflations, that Taffo 
 is a better poet than Homer ; and that the 
 iixth and feventh cantoes of the Henriade 
 are alone more valuable than the whole 
 Iliad * ? What Dramatic poet of anti- 
 quity is to be compared with the immortal 
 Shakefpeare ? what fatirill with Pope, who 
 to all the fire and elevation of Juvenal, 
 joins the wit, the tafte, and fententious 
 morality, of Horace ? As to criticifm : 
 
 * See Le Vicende della Literatura, pag. i66.
 
 Classical Learning. 4^.t 
 
 is there in Ariftotle, Dionyfiiis, Cicero, 
 Quintilian, or Longinus, any thing that 
 is not more philofophically explained, and 
 better illuflrated by examples, in the wri- 
 tings of Dacier, Rollin, Fenelon, Dryden, 
 
 and Addifon ? And then, how deba- 
 
 fing to an ingenuous mind is the drudgery 
 and difcipline of our public fchools ! 
 That the beft days of youth fliould be em- 
 bittered by confinement, amidft the gloom 
 of folirude, or under the fcourge of ty- 
 ranny ; and all for no purpofe, but that 
 the memory may be loaded with the words 
 of two languages that have been dead up- 
 wards of a thoufand years : — is it not an 
 abfurdity too grofs to admit of exaggera- 
 tion ? To fee a youth of fpirit hanging 
 over a mufty folio, his cheek pale with 
 watching, his brow furrowed with un- 
 timely wrinkles, his health gone, and eve- 
 ry power of his foul enervated with an- 
 xiety, and ftupified with poring upon, tri- 
 fles, — what blood boils not with indig- 
 nation, what heart melts not with forrow ! 
 And then the pedant, juft broken loofe 
 from his cell, bridling all o'er with Greek, 
 and pufF'd with pride," as Boikau fays ; 
 his head fo full of words, that no room is 
 left for ideas ; his accomplifliments fo high- 
 ly prized by himfelf, as to be intolerable 
 to others ; ignorant of the hiftory, and 
 untouched with the interefts, of his na-r 
 live country; — what an ufdefs, what an 
 3 O 2 " odious
 
 49- On the Utility of 
 
 odious animal ! Who will fay that edu- 
 cation is on a right footing, while its ten- 
 dency is, to create fuch a monfter ! 
 
 Ye parents, liften, and be wife. "Would 
 you have your children healthy, and po- 
 lite, and fent'imsntal ? Let their early 
 youth be employed in genteel exercifes ; 
 the theatre, the cofFeehoufe, and the card- 
 table, will refine their tafte, inilrudl them 
 in public affairs, and produce habits of 
 attention and contrivance; and the French 
 authors will make them men of wit and 
 fprightly converfation, and give a certain 
 je ne f^a'i quoi of elegance to their whole 
 behaviour : — but for Greek and Latin, 
 the ftudy of Gronovius, Scaliger, and 
 Burman, the accomplifhment of Dutch 
 commentators and Jefuits ; — heavens ! 
 what has a man of failiion to do with 
 it!" 
 
 Moft of the difcourfes I have heard or read 
 m this fide of the queftion were in a limilar 
 lyle of vague declamation, feafoned with 
 gh encomiums on the utility and elegance 
 of the French language and literature, and 
 on the late difco-veries in phyfiology for which 
 we cannot be fa id to be indebted to any of 
 th.G. fages of Greece and Rome. And how 
 eafy is it to declaim on fuch a topic ! By 
 blending fome truth with your falfehood ; 
 by giving to the latter the air of harmlefs 
 amplification, and by defcanting on the ab- 
 mfes of iludy, as if they were its natural corx- 
 
 feq^uences.
 
 Classical Learning. 
 
 495 
 
 feqiiences, you may compofe a very plaufible 
 harangue ; fuch as could not be fully aa- 
 fwered without greater wafte of time and 
 patience, than the champion of antiquity 
 would think it worth his while to bellow. 
 -And if your docSlrine happens to flatter the 
 prejudices, the vanity, or the indolence of 
 the age, you will be regarded by fome as a 
 fine writer, of liberal principles, and a man- 
 ly fpirit. 
 
 It is however thought by many, who in 
 my opinion are more competent judges, that 
 an early acquaintance vvith the claffics is the 
 only foundation of good learning, and that 
 it is incumbent on all who diretl the ftudies 
 of youth, to have this great objedt conti- 
 nually before them, as a matter of the moft 
 ferious concern ; for that a good tafte in li- 
 terature is friendly both to piiblic and to pri- 
 vate virtue, and of courfe tends to promote 
 in no inconiiderable degree the glory of a 
 nation ; and that as the ancients are more or 
 lefs underftood, the principles and the fpirit 
 of found erudition will ever be found to liou- 
 rifh or decay. I fhall therefore ftate as briefly 
 as pofTible fome of the peculiar advantages 
 that feem to me to accompany this fort of 
 fludy ; with a view to obviate, if 1 can, cer- 
 tain prejudices, which I am forry to obferve 
 have of late years been gaining ground, at 
 leaft in the northern part of this illand. The 
 fubjecft is copious ; but I doubt whether thofe 
 adverfaries to whom 1 now addrefs myfeff 
 
 would
 
 494 ^^ THE Utility of 
 
 would take the trouble to read a long difTer- 
 ration. 
 
 The objecl:ions that are moil commonly 
 made to the fludv of the Greek and Latin 
 authors, may perhaps be reduced to four. 
 It is faid, firft, "" that this mode of education 
 obliges the fludent to employ too much 
 time in the acquifition of words : — fe- 
 condly, that when he has acquired thefe 
 languages, he does not find, that they re- 
 pay his toil : — thirdly, that the iludies 
 of a Grammar-fchool have a tendency to 
 encumber the genius, and confequently to 
 weaken, rather than improve, the hviman 
 mind : — and, laftly, that the claflic au- 
 thors contain many defcriptions and doc- 
 rines that may feduce the underftanding, 
 inflame the pafhons, and corrupt the 
 heart." 
 
 1. I. In anfwer to the firfl cbjedlion, I 
 would oblerve, that the plan of iludy mufl 
 be very bad, where the (Indent's health is 
 hurt by too clofe application. Some parents 
 and teachers have thought, ttftit the profi- 
 ciency of the fcholar mufl be in proportion 
 to the number of hours he employs in con- 
 ning his tafli. : but that is a great mifl-ake. 
 Experience proves, that three or four hours 
 a-dav, properly employed in the grammar- 
 fchool, have a better efle(fl than nine ; and 
 are fufiicient to lay within a few years a 
 good foundation of claflical knowledge, 
 Dunces, it is true, vv^ould require n^ore time ; 
 
 but
 
 Classical Learning. 
 
 495 
 
 Lut dunces have nothing to do with Greek 
 and Latin : For ftudies that yield neither 
 dehght nor improvement are not only fuper- 
 fluous but hurtful ; becaufe they mifem- 
 ploy thofe faculties which nature had defti- 
 ned to other purpofes. At the fame time, 
 therefore, that young men are profecuting 
 their grammatical fludies, they may leara 
 writing, drawing, arithmetic, and the prin- 
 ciples of geometry ; and may devote the in- 
 tervals of leifure to riding, fencing, dan- 
 cing, and other manly exercifes. Idlenefs is 
 the greateft misfortune incident to early- 
 years ; the diilempers it breeds in the foul 
 are numberlefs and incurable. And where 
 children, during their hours of relaxation, 
 are left at their own difpofal, they too often 
 miake choice of criminal amufement and bad 
 company. At Sparta, the youth were conti- 
 nually under the infpecflion of thofe who had 
 authority over them ; their education, fays 
 Plutarch, was one continued exercife of obe- 
 dience : but it was never fliid, that the Spar- 
 tan youth became torpid, or melancholy, or 
 iickly, from want of amufement. Where- 
 ever there is a fchool, there ought to be, and 
 generally is, a field or area for diverfions ; 
 and if the hours that boys in this country 
 fpend with one another, that is, in faunter- 
 ing, and too often in gaming, quarrelling, 
 and fwearing, v>^ere to be devoted to exercile, 
 imder the eye of fome perfon of prudence, 
 their fouls and bodies would both be the 
 
 better
 
 49^ On the Utility of 
 
 better for it ; and a great deal of time left for 
 the fludy of many branches of knowledge, 
 befides what is contained in the grammar, 
 and ancient authors. The misfortune is, 
 that we allot too much of their time, not 
 to play, but to idlenefs ; and hence it hap- 
 pens, that their ciailical fludies interfere with 
 other neceifary parts of education. But cer- 
 tain it is, that their fludies and amufements 
 might be made perfedlly confiftent ; and the 
 culture of the mind promoted at the fame 
 time with that of the body. If both thefe 
 ends are not always accomplifhed, and but 
 feldom purfued, the blame is to be laid, nei- 
 ther on the teacher, nor on the things that 
 are taught, but on thofe perfons only who 
 have the power of reforming our fchool-dif- 
 cipline, and want the inclination. At any 
 rate, the blame cannot be laid on the Claflic 
 Authors, or on thofe very ufeful members of 
 a commonwealth, the compilers of gram- 
 mars and dictionaries. For the faculties of 
 children might be diilipated by idlenefs, 
 their manners poifoned by bad company, or 
 their health impaired by injudicious confine- 
 ment, though Greek and Latin were annihi- 
 lated. 
 
 2. It is another abufe of fludy, when the 
 hours of attendance in a grammar-fchool are 
 all employed in the acquifition of words. If 
 a child find nothing but words in the old au- 
 thors, it mufl be owing to the flupifying in- 
 fluence of an ignorant teacher. The moll in^ 
 2 terelling
 
 Classical Learning. 
 
 497 
 
 terefting part of profane hiftory is delivered 
 by the writers of Greece and Rome. From 
 them alfo we may learn the pureft precepts 
 of uninfpired morality, delivered in the moll 
 enchanting language, illuftrated by the hap- 
 piefl allulions, and enforced by the mod per- 
 tinent examples, and mod emphatical rea- 
 foning. Whatever is amulive and inftrinflive 
 in fable, whatever in defcription is beautiful, 
 or in compofition harmonious, whatever can 
 foothe or awaken the human paffions, the 
 Greek and Roman authors have carried to 
 perfecflion. That children fhould enter into 
 all thefe beauties, is not to be imagined ; 
 but that they may be made to comprehend 
 them fo far as to be improved and delighted 
 in a high degree, admits of no doubt. To- 
 gether with the words, therefore, of thefe 
 two celebrated languages, they may learn, 
 without any additional expence of time, the 
 principles of hiftory, morality, politics, geo- 
 graphy, and criticifm ; which, when taught 
 in a foreign diale6l, will perhaps be found 
 to leave a deeper imprelfion upon the memo- 
 ry, than when explained in the mother tongue. 
 The young ftudent iliould be equally atten- 
 tive to the phrafeology and to the fubject of 
 his lefTon ; and receive diredions for analy- 
 fing the one, as well as for conftruing the 
 other. He ought to read his authors, fird 
 as a grammarian, fecondly as a philofopher^ 
 and laftly as a critic ; and all this he may 
 do without difficulty, and with delight as 
 Vol. II. 3 R, well
 
 498 On the Utility of 
 
 well as profit, if care is taken to proportion 
 his taflv to his years and capacity. Nor let it; 
 be fuppofed, that the firft principles of gram- 
 mar are more intelligible to a young mind, 
 than the rudiments of philofophy and rheto- 
 ric. In matters within their fphere, do we 
 not find that children can diftinguifh be- 
 tween truth and falfehood ; perceive the con- 
 nection of caufes and effedls ; infer an ob- 
 vious conclufion from plain premifes, and e- 
 ven make experiments upon nature for the 
 regulation of their own condudl ? And if in 
 inufic, and drawing, and penmanfhip, and 
 phrafeology, the tafle of a child is impro- 
 vable, why not in compolition and ftyle, the 
 cadence of periods, and the harmony of 
 verfe, probability of fable, and accuracy of 
 defcription ? The more we attend to an au- 
 thor's fubject, the greater proficiency we 
 Ihall always make in his language. To un- 
 derfland the fubjedl well, it is neceffary to 
 fludy the words and their conneclion with a 
 critical eye ; w^hereas, even when his know- 
 ledge of the words is very fuperficial, a 
 fcholar or tutor, who attends to nothing elfe, 
 may think himfelf fufEciently acquainted 
 with the author's meaning. The mere Gram- 
 matical teacher will never be found to have 
 any true tafle for his author : if he had, it 
 would be impoflible for him to confine him- 
 felf to verbal remarks : he muft give fcope 
 to his admiration or difgufl, if he really fee J 
 thofe pailions j and mull therefore commu- 
 nicate
 
 Classical Learnihg. 
 
 499 
 
 nicate to the pupil fome portion of liis own 
 enthufiafm or fagacity. 
 
 3. The mental faculties of children fland 
 as much in need of improvement, and con- 
 fequently of exercife, as their bodily powers. 
 Nor is it of fmall importance to deviie fome 
 mode of difcipline for fixing their attention. 
 When this is not done, they become thought- 
 lefs and diffipated to a degree that often un- 
 fits them for the bufinefs of life. 
 
 The Greeks and Romans had a jufl fenfe 
 of the value of this part of education. The 
 youth of Sparta, when their more violent 
 exercifes were over, employed themfelves in 
 works of ftratagem ; which in a ftate, where 
 wealth and avarice were unknown, could 
 hardly be carried to any criminal excefs. 
 When they met together for converfation, 
 their minds were continually exerted in jud- 
 ging of the morality of adlions, and the ex- 
 pediency of public meafures of government ; 
 or in bearing with temper, and retorting 
 with fpirit, the farcafms of good-natured, 
 raillery. They were obliged to exprefs them- 
 felves, without hefitation, in the feweft and 
 plained words poffible. Thefe inftitutions 
 muil have made them thoughtful, and at- 
 tentive, and obfervant both of men and 
 things. And accordingly, raeir good fenfe ^ 
 and penetration, and their nervous and fen- 
 tentious ftyle, were no lefs the admiration 
 of Greece, than their fobriety, patriorifm, 
 and invincible courage. For the talent of 
 3 R 2 Jhjmj
 
 500 On the Utility of 
 
 faying what we call good things they were e- 
 minent among all the nations of antiquity* 
 As they never piqued themfelves on their 
 rhetorical powers, it was prudent to accuftomb 
 the youth to lilence and few words. It made 
 them modeft and thoughtful. With us very 
 fprightly children fometimes become very 
 dull men. For we are apt to reckon thofe 
 children the fprightlieft, who talk the mod : 
 and as it is not eafy for them to think and 
 talk at the fame time, the natural efFedl of 
 their too much fpeaking is too little think- 
 ing. — At Athens, the youth were made to 
 lludy their own language with accuracy both 
 in the pronunciation and compofition ; and 
 the meaneft of the people valued themfelves 
 upon their attainments in this way. Their 
 orators mufl have had a very difficult part 
 to a6l, when by the flighted impropriety they 
 ran the hazard of difgufling the whole au- 
 dience : and we fliall not wonder at the ex- 
 traordinary effects produced by the harangues 
 of Demoflhenes, or the extraordinary care 
 wherewith thofe harangues were compofed, 
 when we recollecfl, that the minuted beauty 
 in his performance mud have been perceived 
 and felt by every one of his hearers. It has 
 been matter of furprife to fome, that Cice- 
 ro, who had fo true a relifii for the fevere 
 fimplicity of the Athenian orator, ftiould 
 himfelf in his orations have adopted a dyle 
 fo diffiafe and declamatory. But Cicero knew 
 what he did. He had a people to deal with, 
 
 who,
 
 Classical Learning. 501 
 
 who, compared with the Athenians, might 
 be called illiterate * ; and to whom De- 
 mofthenes would have appeared as cold and 
 uninterefting, as Cicero would have feemed 
 pompous and inflated to the people of A- 
 thens. In every part of learning the Athe- 
 nians were fludious to excel. Rhetoric in all 
 its branches was to them an objedt of prin- 
 cipal confideration. From the flory of So- 
 crates we may learn, that the literary fpirit 
 was keener at Athens, even in that corrupt- 
 ed age, than at any period in any other 
 country. If a perfon of mean condition, and 
 of the loweft fortune, with the talents and 
 temper of Socrates, were now to appear, 
 inculcating virtue, difTuading from vice, and 
 recommending a right ufe of reafon, not 
 with the grimace of an enthufiaft, or the 
 rant of a declaimer, but with good humour, 
 plain language, and found argument, we 
 cannot fuppole, that the youth of high rank 
 would pay him much attention in any part 
 of Europe. As a juggler, gambler, or a- 
 theifl, he might perhaps attract their notice, 
 and have the honour to do no little mifchief 
 in fome of our clubs of young worthies ; 
 but from virtue and modefty, clothed in 
 rags, I fear they would not willingly receive 
 
 * Cicero himfelf acknowledges, that many of the Pio- 
 mans were very incompetent judges of rhetorical merit. 
 — Ha^c turba et barbaria forenlis dat locum vel vitio- 
 fiflimis oratoribus. De Orat. lib. i. § ii8. 
 
 improve-
 
 502 On .the Utility of 
 
 improvement. — The education of the Ro- 
 mans, from the time they began to alpire to 
 a Hterary charadler, was fimilar to that of 
 the Athenians. The children were taught to 
 fpeak their own language with purity, and 
 made to ftudy and tranflate the Greek au- 
 thors. The laws of the twelve tables they 
 committed to memory. And as the talent 
 of public fpeaking was not only ornamen- 
 tal, but even a necefTary qualification, to 
 every man who wifhed to diflinguifh him- 
 felf in a civil or military capacity, all the 
 youth were ambitious to acquire it. The 
 iludy of the law was alfo a matter of ge- 
 neral concern. Even the children ufed in 
 their diverlions to imitate the procedure of 
 public trials ; one accufing, and another de- 
 fending, the fuppofed criminal : and the 
 youth, and many of the moft refpedable. 
 Itatefmen, through the whole of their lives, 
 allotted part of their leifure to the exercife 
 of declaiming on fuch topics as might come 
 to be debated in the forum, in the fenate, 
 or before the judges. Their domeftic difci- 
 pline was very ftri6t. Some ancient matron, 
 of approved virtue, was appointed to fuper- 
 intend the children in their earlieft years ; 
 before whom every thing criminal in word 
 or deed was avoided as a heinous enormity. 
 This venerable perfon was careful both to 
 inftil good principles into her pupils, and 
 alio to regulate their amufements, and, by 
 preferving their minds pure from moral tur- 
 pitude,
 
 Classical Learning. 503 
 
 pitude, and intelledlual depravation, to pre- 
 pare them for the ftudy of the Uberal arts 
 and fciences. — It may alfo be rema.rked, 
 that the Greeks and Romans were more ac- 
 curate {Indents than the moderns are. They 
 had few books, and thofe they had were not 
 ealily come at : what they read, therefore,' 
 they read thoroughly. I know not, whether 
 their way of writing and making up their 
 volumes, as it rendered the perufal more dif- 
 ficult, might not alfo occafion a more durable 
 remembrance. From their converfation- 
 pieces, and other writings, it appears, that 
 they had a lingular facility in quoting their 
 favourite authors. Demofthenes is faid to 
 have tranfcribed Thucydides eight times, 
 and to have got a great part of him by heart. 
 This is a degree of accuracy which the greats 
 er part of modern readers have no notion 
 of. We feem to think it more creditable to 
 read many books fuperficially, than to read 
 a few good ones with care ; and yet it is cer- 
 tain, that by the latter method we fliould 
 cultivate our faculties, and increafe our flock 
 of real knowledge, more effeclually, and 
 perhaps more fpeedily, than we can do by 
 the former, which indeed tends rather to be- 
 wilder the mind, than to improve it. Every 
 man, who pretends to a literary charader, 
 muft now read a number of books, whether 
 well or ill written, whether inftrucflive or in- 
 lignificant, merely that he may have it to fay, 
 that he has read them, And therefore I am
 
 504 On the Utility of 
 
 apt to think, that, in general, the Greeks 
 and Romans mull: have been more impro- 
 ved by their reading, than we are by ours. 
 As books multiply, knowledge is more wide- 
 ly diffufed ; but if human wifdom were to 
 increafe in the fame proportion, what chil- 
 dren would the ancients be, in comparifon 
 of the moderns ! of whom every fubfcriber 
 to the circulating liberary would have it in 
 his power to be wifer than Socrates, and 
 more accompliflied than Julius Cefar ! 
 
 I mention thefe particulars of the Greek 
 and Roman difcipline, in order to lliow, that, 
 although the ancients had not fo many lan- 
 guages to fludy as we have, nor fo many 
 books to read, they were however careful, 
 that the faculties of their children fliould 
 neither languilh for want of exercife, nor be 
 exhaufted in frivolous employment. As we 
 have not thought fit to imitate them in this ; 
 as moft of the children of modern Europe, 
 who are not obliged to labour for their fufle- 
 nance, muft either fludy Greek and Latin, 
 or be idle ; (for as to cards, and fome of the 
 late publications of Voltaire, I do not think 
 the ft udy of either half fo ufeful or fo inno- 
 cent as fliuttlecock). — I fliould be appre- 
 henfive, that, if ClafTical Learning were laid 
 afide, nothing would be fubftituted in its 
 place, and that our youth would become al- 
 together dilhpated. In this refpecft, there- 
 fore, namely, as the means of improving 
 the faculties of the human mind, 1 do not 
 2 f^e^
 
 Classical Learning. 505 
 
 fee, how the ftudies of the Grammar-fchool 
 can be difpenfed with. Indeed, if we were, 
 hke the favages, continually employed in 
 fearching after the necefTaries of life ; or if, 
 like the firft Romans, our fituation or tem- 
 per involved us in perpetual war, I Ihould 
 perhaps allow literary improvement of every 
 kind to be little better than a coftly fuper- 
 fluity ; and if any one were difpofed to af- 
 firm, that in fuch a flate men may enjoy a 
 greater fliare of animal pleafure, than all the 
 ornaments of art and luxury can furniih, I 
 fhould not be eager to controvert his opinion. 
 But I take for granted, that man is deftined 
 for fomething nobler than mere animal en- 
 joyment ; that a ftate of continual war or 
 unpolifhed barbariry is unfavourable to our 
 bell interefts, as rational, moral, and immor- 
 tal beings ; that competence is preferable to 
 want, leifure to tumult, and benevolence to 
 fury: and 1 fpeak of the arts, not of fup- 
 porting, but of adorning human life ; not 
 of rendering men infenfible to cold and fa- 
 mine ; but of enabling them to bear, with- 
 out being enervated, and enjoy without be-^ 
 ing corrupted, the blellings of a more pro-- 
 fperous condition. 
 
 4. Much has been faid, by Ibme writerSj^ 
 on the impropriety of teaching the ancient 
 languages by book, when the modern tongues 
 are moft eafily acquired, without the help 
 of grammars or di(5lionaries, by fpeaking 
 only. Hence it has been propoied, that chil-^ 
 
 Vol. II. 3 S drea
 
 5©6 
 
 On the Utility of 
 
 dren (to whom the ftudy of grammar is con- 
 ceived to be a grievous hardfhip) fhould learn 
 Latin by being obliged to fpeak it ; for that, 
 however barbarous their flyle may be at 
 firfl, it will gradually improve ; till at length, 
 though with little knowledge of rules, mere- 
 ly by the force of habit, they attain to fuch 
 a command of that tongue, as an Englifhman 
 may of the French, by refiding a few years 
 at Paris. Upon this principle, fome projedl- 
 ors have thought of eftabliihing a Latin city, 
 whither children fliould be fent to learn the 
 language ; Montaigne's father made Latin 
 the common dialedl of his houfehold * ; and 
 
 many 
 
 * Eflais de Montaigne, liv. 2. chap. 17. — On the fnb- 
 jeft ot" obliging children to fpeak Latin before they have 
 acquired a tafte in it, 1 beg leave to quote the following 
 paflage from an author, whofe judgement in thefe matters 
 muft be allowed to be of the very higheft authority. 
 
 " With tbis way of good underftanding the matter, 
 ** plain construing, diligent parfing, daily tranflating, 
 *' chearful admoniihing, and heedful amending of faults, 
 *' never leaving behind juft praife for well-doing, I 
 *' would have the fcholar brought up withal, till he had 
 •' read and tranflated over the firft book of (Cicero's) 
 *' Epiftles chofen out by Sturmius, with a good piece of 
 
 " a Comedy of Terence alfo. All this while, by 
 
 •' mine advice, the child fhall ufe to fpeak no Latin. 
 " For, as Cicero faith in like matter, with like words, 
 f LoquenJoy ynale loqiii difcunt. And that excellent learn- 
 *' ed man G. Budcus, in his Greek commentaries, fore 
 *' complaineth, that when he began to learn the Latin 
 ** tongue, ufe of fpeaking Latin at the table, and elfe- 
 *' where, unadvifedly, did bring him to fuch an evil 
 ** choice of words, to fuch a crooked framing of fen- 
 *' tences, that no one thing did hurt or hinder him more 
 
 " all
 
 Classical Learning. 507 
 
 many philofophers and teachers have laid it 
 down as a rule, that in the grammar-ichoo). 
 nothing but Latin or Greek fhould ever be 
 fpoken. 
 
 All this, or at lead part of it, is very well, 
 if we fuppofe the fole defign of teaching 
 
 ** all the days of his life afterward, both for readinefs 
 ** in fpeaking, and alfo good judgement in writing. — 
 *' In very deed, if children were brought up in fucK 
 ** a houfe, or fuch a fchool, where the Latin tongue 
 ** were properly and perfectly fpoken, as Tiberius and 
 *' Caius Gracchii were brought up in their mother Cor- 
 *' nelia's houfe ; fui'ely then the daily ufe of fpeaking 
 *' were the beft and readieft way to learn the Latin 
 '* tongue. But now, commonly in the beft fchools in 
 ** England, for words, right choice is fmally regarded, 
 ** true propriety wholly negiedled, confufion is brought 
 *• in, barbaroufnefs is bred up fo in young wits, as after- 
 ** wards they be not only marred for fpeaking, but alfo 
 ** corrupted in judgement, as with much ado, or never 
 *' at all, they be brought to the right frame again. — 
 *' Yet all men covet to have their children fpeak Latin, 
 " and fo do I very earneftly too. We both have one 
 ** purpofe, we agree in defire, we wifli one end ; but 
 *' we differ fomewhat in order and way that leadeth 
 ** I'ightly to that end. Other would have them fpeak 
 ** at all adventures : and fo they be fpeaking, to fpeak, 
 ** the mafter careth not, the fcholar knoweth not, what. 
 ** This is to feem, and not to be ; except it be, to be 
 *' bold without lliame, rafli without fkill, full of words 
 ** without wit. I wi{h to have them fpeak fo, as it may 
 *' well appear, that the brain doth govern the tongue, 
 ** and that reafon leadeth forth the talk. — Good under- 
 ** ftanding muft firft be bred in the children ; which be- 
 ** ing nourifhed with Ikill, and ufe of writing, is the 
 " only way to bring them to judgement and readinefs in 
 " fpeaking." Afcham's Scholemafter, book i. bee alfo 
 Cicero de Orat. lib. i. ^ iqo. edit. Prouft. 
 
 3 S 2 thefe
 
 5o8 On the Utility Of 
 
 thefe languages to be, that children may 
 fpeak and write them as eafily and incorredl-. 
 ly, as perfons unacquainted with grammar, 
 and with the rules and models of good com- 
 pofition, do commonly fpeak and write their 
 mother-tongue. But fuch a talent, though 
 on fome rare occafions in life it might be 
 ufeful, would not be attended with thofe 
 certain and more immediate advantages, that 
 one has reafon to expe6l from a regular courie 
 of claffical Itudy. — For, firll, one ufe of 
 clalTic learning is, to fill up the leifure hours 
 of life with liberal amufement. Now thofe 
 readers alone can be adequately charmed with 
 beauty of language, who have attended to 
 the rules of good writing, and even to the 
 niceties of grammar. For the mere know- 
 ledge of words gives but little pleafure ; and 
 they who have gone no deeper in language 
 cannot even conceive the delight wherewith 
 a man of learning perufes an elegant per- 
 formance. — Secondly, I apprehend, that, in 
 this way of converfation, unlefs you add to 
 it the liudy of grammar, and of the befl 
 authors, the practice of many years will not 
 make you a competent mafler in the lan- 
 guage. One muft always be fomething of a 
 grammarian to be able thoroughly to under- 
 ftand any weli-VvTitten book ; but before one 
 can enter into the delicacies of expreffion 
 that are to be met with in every page of a 
 good Latin or Greek author, one muft be 
 an accurate grammarian j the complicated 
 
 inflexions
 
 Classical Learning. 509 
 
 inflexions and fyntax of thefe elegant tongues 
 giving rife to innumerable fubtleties of con- 
 nedlion, and minute varieties of meaning, 
 whereof the fuperficial reader, v^^ho thinks 
 grammar below^ his notice, can have no idea. 
 Befides, the words and phrafes that belong to 
 converfation, are, comparatively fpeaking, 
 not very numerous : unlefs you read poets, 
 orators, hiftorians, and philofophers too, you 
 can never underftand a language in its full 
 extent. In Englifh, Latin, Greek, and Ita- 
 lian, and, I believe, in mofl other cultiva- 
 ted tongues, the poetical and rhetorical ilyles 
 differ greatly from that of common difcourfe ; 
 and one may be a tolerable proficient in the 
 one, who is very ignorant of the other. — 
 But, thirdly, I would obferve, that the fludy 
 of a fyflem of grammar, fo complex and fo 
 perfedl as the Greek or Latin, may, with 
 peculiar propriety, be recommended to chil- 
 dren ; being fuited to their underflanding, 
 and having a tendency to promote the im- 
 provement of all their mental faculties. In 
 this fcience, abflrufe as it is commonly ima- 
 gined to be, there are few or no difficulties 
 which a mafler may not render intelligible to 
 any boy of good parts, before he is twelve 
 years old. Words, the matter of this fcience, 
 are within the reach of every child ; and of 
 thefe the human mind, in the beginning of 
 life, is known to be fufceptible to an alto- 
 nilhing degree : and yet in this fcience there 
 is a fubtlety, and a variety, fufficient to call 
 
 forth
 
 5IO On the Utility of 
 
 forth all the intelledlual powers of the young 
 ftudent. When one hears a boy analyfe a 
 few fentences of a Latin author; and Ihow 
 tliat he not only knows the general meaning, 
 and the import of the particular words, but 
 alio can inftantly refer each word to its clafs ; 
 enumerate all its terminations, fpecifying e- 
 very change of fenfe, however minute, that 
 may be produced by a change of inflexion or 
 arrangement ; explain its feveral dependen- 
 cies ; diftinguilh the literal meaning from 
 the figurative, one fpecies of figure from an- 
 other *, and even the philofophical ufe of 
 
 words 
 
 * The elements of R.hetoric fhould always be taught 
 in conjun(n;ion with thofe of Grammar. The former 
 would make the latter more entertaining ; and, by fet- 
 ting the various parts of language in a new light, would 
 give rife to new energies in the mind of the ftudent, 
 and prepare him for relifliing the beauties and praftiling 
 the rules of good writing ; thus heightening the pleafure 
 of ftudy, with little or no increafe of labour. I doubt 
 not but Butler's flippant remark, that '* All a Rhetori- 
 '• cian's rules Confili in naming of his tools," may have 
 brought the art into fome difrepute. But though this 
 were a true account, (and it mull: be a poor fyftem of 
 rhetoric of which this is a true account), the art might 
 have its ufe notwithftanding. Nobody thinks the time 
 loft to a young feaman, which he employs in acquaint- 
 ing himfelf with the names and ufes of the feveral parts- 
 of a Ihip, and of the other obje<R:s that demand the at-' 
 tention of the mariner : nor is the botanift idle, while 
 he treafures up in his memory the various tribes of ve- 
 getables ; nor the aftronomer, while he numbers the con- 
 ftellations, and learns to call them by their names. In 
 every art there are terms, which mull: be familiar to thofe 
 ■who' would underftand it, or fpeak intelligibly about it j 
 
 and
 
 Classical Learnits^g. 511 
 
 words from the idiomatical, and the vulgar 
 from the elegant ; recolledling occafionally o- 
 ther words and phrafes that are fynonymous, 
 or contrary, or of different though fimilar 
 fignification ; and accounting for what he 
 fays, either from the reafon of the thing, or 
 by quoting a rule of art, or a claffical autho- 
 rity : — one muft be fenfible, that, by fucli 
 an exercife, the memory is likely to be more 
 improved in ftrength and readinefs, the atten- 
 tion better fixed, the judgement and tafte 
 more fuccefsfuUy exerted, and a habit of re- 
 fledlion and fubtle difcrimi nation more eafily 
 acquired, than it could be by any other em- 
 ployment equally fuited to the capacity of 
 childhood. A year paffed in this falutary 
 exercife will be found to cultivate the hu- 
 man faculties more than feven fpent in prat- 
 tling that French which is learned by rote : 
 nor would a complete courfe of Voltaire 
 yield half fo much improvement to a yoang 
 mind, as a few books of a good Clafiic au- 
 
 and few ai-ts are more complex than literary compofition. 
 Befides, though fome of the tropes and figures of fpeech 
 are eafily diftingulfhed, others require a more difficult 
 fcrutiny, and fome knowledge even of the elementaiy 
 arrangements of philofophy. And the rules for applying 
 the elegancies of language, being founded in the fcience 
 of human nature, muft gradually lead the young rheto- 
 rician to attend to what pafTes in his own mind ; M'hich 
 of all the fcenes of human obfervation is the moft im- 
 portant, and in the early part of life the leafl attended 
 to. 
 
 thor,
 
 512 On the Utility of 
 
 thor, of Livy, Cicero, or Virgil, fludied in 
 this accurate manner. 
 
 I mean not to decry the French tongue* 
 ■which I know to be ufeful to all, and ne- 
 celTary to many. Far lefs would I infinuate 
 any thing to difcourage the fludy of our own, 
 ■which 1 think the fineft in the world ; and 
 which to a member of the Britiih empire is 
 of greater importance than all other lan- 
 guages. I only infift on the expediency of 
 improving young minds by a grammatical 
 fludy of the ClaiTic tongues ; thefe being at 
 once more regular and more diverjifed than 
 any of the modern, and therefore better ad- 
 apted to the purpofe of exerciiing the judge- 
 ment and the memory of the fcholar. And I 
 maintain, that every language, and indeed 
 every thing, that is taught children, fhould 
 be accurately taught ; being of opinion, that 
 the mind is more improved by a little accu- 
 rate knowledge, than by an extenlive fmat- 
 tering ; and that it would be better for a 
 young man to be mafter of Euclid or De- 
 mofthenes, than to have a whole dictionary 
 of arts and fciences by heart. When he has 
 once got a tafle of accuracy, he will know 
 the value and the method of it ; and, with 
 a view to the fame gratification, will habi- 
 tually purfue the fame method, both in fci- 
 ence, and in the general condudl of his af- 
 fairs : — whereas a habit of fuperficial think- 
 ing perverts and enervates the powers of the 
 foul, leaves many of them to languifh in to- 
 % tal
 
 Classical Learning. 513 
 
 tal ina6\ivity ; and is too apt to make a man 
 fickle and thoughtlefs, unprincipled and dif- 
 fipated for life. 
 
 I agree with RojGTeau, that the aim of edu- 
 cation fhould be, to teach us rather hoitJ to 
 think, than ivJoat to think ; rather to improve 
 our minds fo as to enable us to think for 
 ourfelves, than to load the memory with the 
 thoughts of other men. Not that I would 
 difcommend the acquifition of good princi- 
 ples, and juft notions, from whatever fource 
 they are drawn : for indeed the knowledge 
 of the mofl: ingenious man upon earth would 
 be very fcanty, if it were all to be derived 
 from himfelf. Nay, as the parent mufl in 
 many cafes dire6l the conduct of the child, 
 before the child can difcern the reafons of 
 fuch direction, I am inclined to think, that 
 fome important principles of religion and 
 morality may with good fuccefs be imprinted 
 on the memory of children, even before they 
 can perfectly underltand the arguments by 
 which they may be proved, or the words 
 in which they are exprelTed. ■— But flill it 
 is true, that a mind prepared by proper dif- 
 cipline for making difcoveries of its own, is 
 in a much higher ftate of cultivation, than 
 that of a mere fcholar who knows nothing 
 but what he has been taught. The latter 
 refembles a granary, which may indeed be 
 filled with corn, but can yield no more than 
 it has received ; the former may be likened 
 to a fruitful field, which is ever in a condi- 
 
 Vol. II. 3 T tion
 
 514 On the Utility of 
 
 tion to bring riches and plenty, and mul- 
 tiplies an hundred fold every grain that has 
 l^een committed to it. Now this peculiar 
 advantage feems to attend the fludy of the 
 ClalTic authors, that it not only flores the 
 mind v^^ith ufeful learning, but alfo begets a 
 habit of attention, and wonderfully improves 
 both the memory and the judgement. 
 
 5. That the grammatical art may be learn- 
 ed as perfectly from an Englilh or French, 
 as from a Greek or Latin grammar, no per- 
 fon will affirm, who attends to the fubjecl, 
 and can (late the comparifon. Claffical learn- 
 ing, therefore, is neceflary to grammatical 
 fkill. And that the knowledge of grammar 
 tends to purify and preferve language, might 
 be proved, if a proof were requifite, from 
 many confiderations. Every tongue is in- 
 correct, while it is only fpoken ; becaufe men 
 never fludy it grammatically, till after they 
 have begun to write it, or coinpofe in it. 
 And when brought to its higheft perfection, 
 by the repeated efforts, and accumulated re- 
 finements, of grammarians, lexicographers, 
 philofophers, etymologifts, and of authors in 
 general, how incorrecflly is it fpoken and 
 written by the unlearned ! How eafily do 
 ungrammatical phrafes, the effecfl of igno- 
 rance and affecflation, inlinuate themfelves 
 into common difcourfe, and thence into 
 writing ! and how difficult is it often found, 
 not with ftanding all the remonftrances of 
 learned men, to extirpate thofe phrafes from 
 
 the
 
 Classical Learning. 515 
 
 the language, or prevail with the public to 
 reform them ! Where grammar was accu- 
 rately fludied, language has always been ele- 
 gant and durable : witnefs that of ancient 
 Greece, which, though it underwent conh- 
 derable alterations, as all living languages 
 muft do, retained its purity for more than a 
 thoufand years. As grammar is negledled, 
 barbarifm mufh prevail. And therefore, the 
 ftudy of Greek and Latin, being necelFary 
 to the perfedlion of the grammatical art, 
 inuft alfo be necefTary to the permanence and 
 purity even of the modern tongues, and, 
 confequently, to the prefervation of our hi- 
 ftory, poetry, philofophy, and of every thing 
 
 valuable in our literature. Can thofe who 
 
 wifh well to learning or mankind ever feek 
 to depretiate fo important a ftudy ? Or will 
 it be faid, that the knowledge of grammar is 
 unworthy of a gentleman, or man of buii- 
 nefs, when it is confidered, that the moft pro- 
 found ftatefmen, the ableft orators, the moft 
 elegant writers, and the greateft men, that 
 ever appeared on the ftage of public life, of 
 whom I ftiall only mention Julius. Ccfar and 
 Cicero, were not only ftudious of grammar, 
 but moft accurate grammarians * ? 
 
 6. To all this we may add, that the dif- 
 cipline generally eftablifhed in fchools of 
 learning inures the youth to obedience and 
 
 * Quintil. Orat. Inft. lib. i. cap. 4. Sqe alfo Cf the 
 origin and progrefs of language, toI. 2. p. 4f>4' 
 
 3 T 2 fiibor^
 
 5i6 On the Utility of 
 
 fubordination ; of which it is of infinite con-^ 
 fequence to their moral improvement, as well 
 as to the profperity of their covmtry, that 
 
 they fliould early be made fenfible. But 
 
 is not this difcipline often too formal, and 
 too rigorous ? And if fo, does it not tend 
 to deprefs the mind, by making it attentive 
 to trifles, and by giving an air of fervility 
 to the genius, as well as to the outward be- 
 haviour ? Thefe queftions need no other an- 
 fwer, than the bare recital of a faCl, which 
 is obvious to all men ; that of all the nations 
 now exilling, that whofe general charadler 
 partakes the leafh of finicalnefs or fervility, 
 and which has difplayed an elevation of foul, 
 and a fpirit of freedom, that is without ex-' 
 ample in the annals of mankind, is the moft 
 remarkable for ftriclnefs of difcipline in its 
 fchools and univerfities ; and feems now to 
 be the only nation upon earth that enter- 
 tains a proper fenfe of the unfpeakable va- 
 lue of Clailic erudition.- A regard to or- 
 der and lavv^ful authority is as favourable to 
 true greatnefs of mind, as the knowledge of 
 inethod is to true genius. 
 
 y. Some of my readers will pity, and fome 
 probably laugh at me, for what 1 am going 
 to fay in behalf of a pradlice, which is now 
 in mod countries both difufed and derided ; 
 I mean that of obliging the fludent to com- 
 pofe fome of his exercifes in Latin verfe. 
 *' What ! (it will be faid), do you, in op- 
 *' pofition to the fentiments of antiquity it- 
 
 " felf,
 
 Classical Learning. 517 
 
 *' felf, and of all wife men in every age, i- 
 ** inagine, that a talent for poetry is to be 
 " communicated by rule, or acquired by ha- 
 *' bit ? Or if it could, would you wilh to 
 " fee us transformed into a natron of ver- 
 " fifiers ? Poetry may have its ufe; but it 
 " will neither fill our warehoufes, nor ferti- 
 " life our foil, neither rig our fleet, nor re- 
 " gulate our finances. It has now loft the 
 " faculty of building towns, felling timber, 
 " and curing broken bones; and I think it 
 " was never famous for replenifhing either 
 " the pocket, or the belly. No, no. Sir; a 
 " garret in Grubflreet, however honourable 
 *' in your eyes, is not the ftation to which I 
 ** intend to breed my fon." 
 
 Permit me to afk in my turn, Whether it 
 is in order to make them authors by trade, 
 or for what other purpofe it is, that boys 
 have the taflc enjoined them, of compofing 
 themes and tranflations, and performing 
 thofe other exercifes, to which writing is ne- 
 ceifary. I believe it will be allowed, that 
 habits of accurate thinking, and of Ipeaking 
 corredlly and elegantly, are ufeful and orna- 
 mental in every ftation of life. Now Cicero 
 and Quintilian, and many other authors, af- 
 firm, that thefe habits are moft effecflually 
 acquired by the frequent ufe of the pen * ; 
 
 * Cicero de Orat. lib. i. § 150. Edit. Prouft, QuintiL 
 Inft. Or. lib. 10. cap. 3. 
 
 npi
 
 5i8*' On the Utility of 
 
 not in extra(5ling common places from books"'', 
 but in giving permanence and regularity to 
 our own thoughts exprelTed in our own 
 words. The themes and tranflations per- 
 formed by boys in a grammar-fchool are the 
 beginnings of this falutary practice ; and are 
 known to have a happy effect in forming the 
 judgement, improving the memory, and 
 quickening the invention, of the young flu- 
 dent, in giving him a command of words, a 
 corre(ft phrafeology, and a habit of thinking 
 with accuracy and methodi 
 
 Now, 
 
 * To enable us to remember what vre read, fome au- 
 thors recommend a book of common-places, wherein we 
 are defircd to write down, according to a certain artifi- 
 cial order, all thofe pafTages that we wifh to add to our 
 ftock of learning. But other authors, of equal judge- 
 ment in thefe matters, have blamed this pra<rtice of wri- 
 ting out quotations. It is certain, that when we read 
 with a view to fill up commonplaces, we are apt to at- 
 tend rather to particular paflages, than to the fcope and 
 fpirit of the whole j and that, having tranfcribed the 
 favourite paragraph, we are not folicitous to remember 
 it, as knowing that we may at any time find it in our 
 common-place book. Befides, life is fhort, and health 
 precious j and if we do not think more than we either 
 write or read, our fludics will avail us little. But this 
 practice of continual tranfcription confumes time, and im- 
 pairs health, and yet conveys no improvement to the 
 mind, beeaufe it requires no thought, and exercifes no 
 faculty. Moreover, it inclines us to form ourfelves en- 
 tirely upon the fentiments of other m.en ; and as differ- 
 ent authors think differently on many points, it may make 
 us change our opinions fo often, that at lallwe fhall come 
 
 to have no fixed principle at all. And yet, on the 
 
 other hand, it mult be allowed, that many things occur, 
 
 both
 
 'Classical Learning. 519 
 
 Now, as the defign of thcfe exercifes is not 
 to make men profelled profe- authors, fo nei- 
 ther is the pra(5lice of verlifying intended to 
 make them poets. I do not wifli the numbers 
 of verfifiers to multiply ; I fliall, if you 
 pleafe, admit the old maxim, " Poeta nafci- 
 '' tur, non fit ;" and that it would be as eafy 
 to foften marble into pincufliions as to com- 
 municate the art of poetry to one who wants 
 the genius : 
 
 Ego nee ftudium fine divlte vena. 
 
 Nee rude quid poflit video ingenium. 
 
 The praclice in quellion may, however, in 
 my judgemenr, be attended with fome good 
 effeds. Firfl, though we have for ever 
 
 both in i-eading and in experience, which ought not to 
 be forgotten, and yet cannot be preferved, unlefs com- 
 mitted to writing. Pcriiaps, then, it is bcft to follow a 
 middle courie ; and, when we regifter fadts or fenti- 
 ments that occur in reading, to throw afide the author 
 from whom we take them, and do it in our own v/ords. 
 In this way writing is profitable, becaufe it is attended 
 with thought and recolleftion, as well as praftice in 
 compolition. And when we are fo much mailers of the 
 fentiments of another man as to be able to exprefs them 
 with accuracy in our own words, then Ave may be faid to 
 have digefted them, and made them our own ; and then 
 it is, and not before, that our underftanding is really- 
 improved by them. If Ave chtife to prefcrve a fpecimen 
 of an author's ftyle, or to tranfcribe any of his thoui^hts 
 in his own words on account of fomething that pleafes 
 in the expreffion, there can be no harm in this, provided 
 we do not employ top mtich time in it. 
 
 loft
 
 520 On the Utiltty of 
 
 loft the true pronunciation of Latin and 
 Greek, yet the lefs falfe our pronunciation 
 is, the more agreeable and intelHgible it will 
 probably be. VerjQfication, therefore, conli- 
 dered as an exercife for exemplifying and fix- 
 ing in the mind the rules of profody, may be 
 allowed to have its ufe in corredling the pro- 
 nunciation. But, fecondly, it has a fur- 
 ther ufe, in heightening the charms of poe- 
 tical compofition, by improving our fenfe of 
 poetical harmony. I have already mentioned 
 amufement as one of the advantages of claffic 
 learning. Now good poetry is doubly a- 
 mufing to a reader who has ftudied and 
 pracSlifed verfification ; as the fliapes and co- 
 lours of animal and vegetable nature feem 
 doubly beautiful to the eye of a painter. " I 
 " begin," fays Pope, fpeaking of his profi- 
 ciency in drawing, " to difcover beauties 
 *' that were till now imperceptible to me. 
 " Every corner of an eye, or turn of a nofe 
 *' or ear, the fmalleft degree of light orfliade 
 *' on a cheek or in a dimple, have charms 
 ^*' to difl:ra6t me *." For the fame reafon, 
 therefoi'e, that I would recommend drawing 
 to him w^ho wifhes to acquire a true tafte for 
 the beauties of nature, I fhould recommend 
 a little practice in verfifying to thofe who 
 would be thoroughly fenfible to the charm of 
 poetic numbers. — Thirdly, this pradlice is 
 itill more important, as it gradually fup- 
 
 * Pope's Letters to Gay. 
 
 2 plies
 
 Classical Learning. 521 
 
 plies the ftudent with a flore of words; 
 thereby facihtating the acquifition of the 
 language : and as it accufloms him to exert 
 his judgement and talle, as well as memo- 
 ry, in the choice of harmonious and ele- 
 gant expreflions. By compofing in profe, he 
 learns to think and fpeak methodically ; and 
 his poetical exercifes under a proper dire(5lion, 
 will make the ornaments of language familiar 
 To him, and give precifion to his thoughts, 
 and a vigorous brevity to his flyle. Thefe 
 advantages may, I prefume, be in fome de- 
 gree attained, though his verfes, unaided by 
 genius, fhould never rife above mediocrity : 
 if the mufes are propitious, his improvement 
 will be proportionably greater. 
 
 But is not this exercife too diiEcult ? — and 
 
 does it not take up too much time ? Too 
 
 much time it ought not to take up ; nor 
 Ihould it be impofed on thofe who find it 
 too difficult. But if we confult experience, 
 we Ihall find, that boys of ordinary talents 
 are capable of it, and that it never has on 
 any occafion proved detrimental to literature. 
 I know feveral learned men who were inured 
 to it in their youth ; but I never heard them 
 complain of its unprofitablenefs or difficul- 
 ty : and I cannot think, that Grotius or Bu- 
 chanan, Milton or Addifon, Browne or 
 Gray *, had ever any reafon to lament, as 
 
 * [.S"^^ 7iext page."] * 
 
 Vol. II. 3 U loft,
 
 52l On the Utility of 
 
 lod:, the hours they employed in this exercife. 
 It is generally true; that genius difplays itfelf 
 to the beft advantage in its native tongue. 
 Yet is it to be willied, that " the talent of 
 writing Latin verfe were a little more culti- 
 vated among us ; for it has often proved the 
 means of extending the reputation of our au- 
 thors, and confequently of adding fomething 
 to the literary glories of Great Britain. Boi- 
 leau is faid not to have known that there 
 were any good poets in England, till Addi- 
 fon made him a prefent of the Nbifi Angli- 
 caiKs, Many of the finefl performances of 
 Pope, Dryden, and Milton, have appeared 
 not ungracefully in a Roman drefs. And 
 thofe foreigners mud entertain a high opi- 
 nion of our Paftoral poetry, who have feen 
 the Latin tranflations of Vincent Bourne, 
 particularly thofe of the ballads of T'uoeedjuiey 
 William and Margaret^ and Rowe's Defpairing 
 befide a clear Jiream; of which it is no com- 
 pliment to fay, that in fweetnefs of numbers, 
 
 [_See the reference-mark in the preceding page.~\ 
 
 * Ifaac Hawkins Browne, Efq; author of feveral ex- 
 cellent poems, particularly one in Latin, on the Immor- 
 tality of the foul ; of which Mrs Carter juftly fiiys, that it 
 does honour to our country. Mr Gray of Cam- 
 bridge, the author of the fineft odes, and of the finefi? 
 moral elegy in the world, wrote many elegant Latin- 
 poems in his youth, with fome of which Mr Mafon has 
 lately obliged the public. The Latin poems of Grotius 
 and Bu«;hanan, Milton and Addifon, hare long been u- 
 niverfally known and admired. 
 
 and
 
 Classical Learning. 523 
 
 and elegant expreJTion, they are at leafl equal 
 to the originals, and fcar.ce inferior to any- 
 thing in Ovid or Tibulliis. 
 
 Enough, I hope, has been faid to evince 
 the utility of that mode of difcipline which 
 for the mod part is, and always, in my opi- 
 nion, ought to be, ertabliilied in grammar- 
 fchools. If the reader admit the truth of 
 thefe remarks, he will be fatisfied, that " the 
 " ftudy of the claflic authors does not ne- 
 " ceflarily obUge the ftudent to employ too 
 ^' much time in the acquifition of words : " 
 for that by means of thofe words the mind 
 may be ftored with valuable knowledge ; and 
 that the acquilition of them, prudently con- 
 ducfted, becomes to young perfons one of the 
 bell inftruments of intellectual proficiency, 
 which in the prefent flate of human fociety it 
 is poffible to imagine. 
 
 II. I need not fpend much time in refu- 
 ting the fecond objection, " That thefe lan- 
 *' guages, when acquired, are not worth the 
 *' labour." There never was a man of learn- 
 ing and tafte, who would not deny the facft, 
 Thofe perfons are moft delighted with the 
 ancient writers, who underftand them bed j 
 and none affedl to defpife them, but they 
 
 who are ignorant of their value. Wlie- 
 
 ther the pleafure and profit ariiing from the 
 knowledge of the ClafTic tongues is fufhcient 
 to repay the toil of acquiring tliem, is a point 
 which thofe only who have made the acqui- 
 fition are entitled to determine. And they, 
 3 U 3 we
 
 524 On the Utility of 
 
 we are fure, will determine in the affirma- 
 tive. The admirer of Homer and Demoflhe- 
 nes, Virgil and Cicero, Xenophon and Cefar, 
 Herodotus and Livy, will tell us, that he 
 would not for any confideration give up his 
 fkill in the language of thofe authors. Eve- 
 ry man of learning wiflies, that his fon may 
 be learned ; and that not fo much from a 
 view to pecuniary advantage, as from a de- 
 fire to have him fiipplied with the means of 
 ufeful inflruclion and liberal amufement. It 
 is true, that habit will make us fond of 
 trifling purfuits, and miftake imaginary for 
 real excellence. The being accuftomed to 
 that kind of ftudy, and perhaps alfo the 
 pride, or the vanity, or limply the confcioui^ 
 nefs, of being learned, may account for part 
 of the pleafure that attends the perufal of the 
 Greek and Roman writings. But fure it is 
 but a fmall part which may be thus account- 
 ed for. The Greeks were more paffionate ad- 
 mirers of Homer and Demoflhenes, and the 
 Romans of Virgil and Cicero, than we ; and 
 yet were not under the ncceiTity of employ- 
 ing fo much time in the ftudy of thefe au- 
 thors, nor, confequently, fo liable to contracl 
 a liking from long acquaintance, or to be 
 proud of an accomplifhment which was com- 
 mon to them with all their countrymen. 
 
 The knowledge of the claffics is the beft 
 foTindation to the ftudy of Law, Phylic, 
 Theology, Rhetoric, Agriculture, and other 
 honourable arts and fciences. In polite na- 
 tions,
 
 Classical Learning. 525 
 
 tions, and in companies where the rational 
 charadler is held in any efteem, it has gene- 
 rally been regarded as a recommendatory ta- 
 lent. As a fource of recreation, for filling 
 up the intervals of leifure, its importance 
 has been acknowledged by many names of 
 the higheft authority. And furely the Mufes 
 are more elegant, more inftrudlive, and more 
 pleafing companions, than dogs, horfes, gam- 
 blers, or fots : and in attending to the wif- 
 dom of former ages, we may reafonably be 
 thought to pafs our time to better purpofe, 
 than in hearing or helping about the cen- 
 fures, calumnies, and other follies, of the pre- 
 fent. 
 
 III. It has been faid, that " fchool-learn- 
 " ing has a tendency to encumber the ge- 
 " nius, and, confequently, to weaken ra- 
 " ther than improve the mind." Here opens 
 another field for declamation. Who has not 
 heard the learned formality of Ben Johnfon 
 oppofed to Shakefpeare's " native wood-notes 
 " wild ;" and inferences made from the com- 
 parifon, very much to the difcredit, not of 
 the learned poet only, but of learning itfelf ? 
 Milton, too, is thought by fome to have 
 poflefied a fuperfluity of erudition, as well 
 as to have been too oftentatious in difplay- 
 ing it. And the ancients are fiappoied to 
 have derived great benefit from their not be- 
 ing obliged, as we are, to ftudy a number of 
 languages. 
 
 It is true, a man may be fo intemperate in 
 
 readings
 
 5^6 On the Utility of 
 
 reading, as to hurt both his body and his 
 mind. They who always read, and never 
 think, become pedants and changeUngs. 
 And thofe who employ the befl part of their 
 time in learning languages, are rarely found 
 to make proficiency in art or fcience. To 
 gain a perfecfl knowledge even of one tongue, 
 is a work of much labour ; though fome 
 men have fuch a talent this way as to ac- 
 quire, with moderate application, a compe- 
 tent Ikill in feveral. Milton, before he was 
 twenty years old, had compofed verfes in La- 
 tin, Italian, and Greek, as well as in EngliCh, 
 But the generality of minds are not equal to 
 this ; nor is it neceflary they fhould. One 
 may be very fenfible of the beauties of a fo- 
 reign tongue, and may read it with eafe and 
 pleafure, who can neither fpeak it, nor com- 
 pofe in it. And, except where the genius 
 has a facility in acquiring them, and a flrong 
 bias to that fort of ftudy, 1 would not recom- 
 mend it to a young man to make himfelf 
 mailer of many languages. For, furely, to 
 be able to exprefs the fame thought in the* 
 dialogues of ten different nations, is not the 
 end for which man was fent into the world. 
 The prefent objedlion, as well as the for- 
 mer, is founded on what every man of let- 
 ters would call a miflake of fadl. No perfon 
 who underllands Greek and Latin will ever 
 admit, that thefe languages can be an in- 
 cumbrance to the mind. And perhaps it 
 would be diliicult to prove, even by a fnigle 
 
 inftance.
 
 Classical Learning. 527 
 
 inflance, that genius was ever hurt by learn- 
 ing. Ben Johnfon's misfortune was, not 
 that he knew too much, but that he could 
 not make a proper ufe of his knowledge ; a 
 misfortune, which arofe rather from a defedl 
 of genius or tafte, than from a fuperabun- 
 dance of erudition. With the fame genius, 
 and lefs learning, he would probably have 
 made a worfe figure. His play of Cati- 
 line is an ill-digefted colle6lion of fadis and 
 palTages from Salluft. Was it his know- 
 ledge of Greek and Latin that prevented his 
 making a better choice ? To comprehend 
 every thing the hiflorian has recorded of that 
 incendiary, it is not requilite that one fhould 
 be a great fcholar. By looking into Rofe's 
 tranflation, any man who underftands Eng- 
 lifh may make himfelf mafter of the whole 
 narrative in half a day. It was Johnfon's 
 want of tafte, that made him transfer from 
 the hiftory to the play fome paffages and 
 facfls that fuit not the genius of dramatic 
 writing : it was want of tafle, that made 
 him difpofe his materials according to the hi- 
 florical arrangement ; which, however fa- 
 vourable to calm information, is not calcu- 
 lated for working thofe efFecfls on the paflions 
 and fancy, VN^hich it is the aim of tragedy to 
 produce. It was the fame want of tafte, that 
 made him, out of a rigid attachment to hi- 
 ftorical truth, lengthen his piece with fuper- 
 numerary events inconfiftent with the unity 
 of defign, and not fubfervient to the cata- 
 
 ftrophe 'j
 
 528 On the Utility of 
 
 ftrophe ; and it was doubtlefs owing to want 
 of invention, that he confined himfelf fo 
 flri(fi:Iy to the letter of the ftory. Had he re- 
 collecled the advice of Horace, (of which he 
 could not be ignorant, as he tranilated the 
 v/hole poem into Englifh verfe), he muft have 
 avoided fome of thefe faults : 
 
 Publica materles privati juris erit, fi 
 Non circa vilem patulumque moraberis orbem. 
 Nee verbum verbo curabis reddere, fidus 
 Interpres ; nee defilies imitator in ardum, 
 Unde pedem proferre pudor vetat, aut operis 
 lex *. 
 
 A little more learning, therefore, or rather a 
 more feafonable application of what he had, 
 would have been of great ufe to the author 
 
 on this occaiion. Shakefpeare's play of 
 
 Julius Cefar is founded on Plutarch's life of 
 Brutus. The poet has adopted many of the 
 incidents and fpeeches recorded by the hi- 
 ftorian, whom he had read in Sir Thomas 
 North's tranilation. But great judgement 
 appears in the choice of paflages. Thofe e- 
 vents and fentiments that either are affecf^ing 
 in themfelves, or contribute to the difplay 
 of human characfters and paffions, he has ad- 
 opted ; what feemed unfuitable to the drama 
 is omitted. By reading Plutarch and So- 
 phocles in the original,^ together with the 
 
 * Ar. Poet. verf. 135. See Dr Kurd's elegant com- 
 mentary and notes. 
 
 2 Poetics
 
 Classical Learning. 529 
 
 Poetics of Ariftotle and Horace's epiftle to the 
 Pifoes, Shakefpeare might have made this tra- 
 gedy better ; but I cannot conceive how fnch 
 a preparation, had the poet been capable of 
 it, could have been the caufe of his making 
 it worfe. It is very probable, that the in- 
 ftance of Shakefpeare may have induced fome 
 perfons to think unfavourably of the influ- 
 ence of learning upon genius ; but a con- 
 cluiion fo important fhould never be inferred 
 from one inftance, efpecially when that is al- 
 lowed to be extraordinary, and almoll fuper- 
 natural. From the phenomena of fo tran- 
 fcendent a genius, we muft not judge of hu- 
 man nature in general ; no more than w^e are 
 to take the rules of Britifli agriculture from 
 what is pracflifed in the Summer Iflands. — ■ 
 Nor let it be any objed:ion to the utility of 
 clafTic learning, that we often meet with men 
 of excellent parts, whofe faculties were never 
 improved, either by the docflrine or by the 
 difcipline of the fchools. A prai5lice which 
 is not indifpenfably necelfary, may yet be 
 highly ufeful. We have heard of merchants, 
 who could hardly write or read, fuperintend- 
 ing an extenfive commerce, and acquiring 
 great wealth and efleem by the mo ft: honour- 
 able means : yet who will fay, that Writing 
 and Reading are not ufeful to the mer- 
 chant ? There have been men eminent both 
 for genius and for virtue, who in the begin- 
 ning of life were almoil totally neglected : 
 vet who will fav, that the care of parents, 
 ' Vol, II. ' 3 X and
 
 53^ On the Utility of 
 
 and early habits of virtue and reflecSlIon, are 
 not of infinite importance to the human 
 mind ? 
 
 Milton was one of the moft learned men 
 this nation ever produced. But his great 
 learning neither impaired his judgement, nor 
 checked his imagination. A richer vein of 
 invention, as v^^ell as a more corre6l tafte, 
 appears in the Paradife Loft, written when 
 lie was near fixty years of age, than in any 
 of his earlier performances. Paradife Re- 
 gained, and Samfon Agoniftes, which were 
 his lad works, are not fo full of imagery, 
 nor admit fo much fancy, as many of his ou- 
 tlier pieces ; but they difcover a confummate 
 judgement; and little is wanting to make 
 
 each of them perfecfl in its kind. I am 
 
 not offended at that profufion of learning 
 which here and there appears in the Paradife 
 Loft. It gives a claffical air to the poem : it 
 refreflies the mind with new ideas ; and there 
 is fomething, in the very found of the names 
 of places and perfons whom he celebrates, 
 that is wonderfully pleafing to the ear. Ad- 
 mit all this to be no better than pedantic fu- 
 perfluity ; yet w411 it not follow, that Mil- 
 ton's learning did him any harm upon the 
 v/hole, provided it appear to have improved 
 him in matters of higher importance. And 
 that it did fo, is undeniable. This poet is 
 not more eminent for ftrength and fublimity 
 of genius, than for the art of his compofi- 
 tion ; which he owed partly to a fine tafle 
 
 in
 
 Classical Learning. 531 
 
 in harmony, and partly to his accurate know- 
 ledge of the ancients. The llyle of his num- 
 bers has not often been imitated with fuc- 
 cefs. It is not merely the want of rhyme, 
 nor the diverfified pofition of paufes, nor the 
 drawing out of the ftnCQ from one Hne to 
 another; far lefs is it the mixture of anti- 
 quated words and (Irange idioms, that con- 
 (titutes the charm of Milton's verfificatioa ; 
 though many of his imitators, when they 
 copy him in thefe or in fome of thefe re- 
 fpedls, think they have acquitted themfelves 
 very well. But one muft ftudy the befl Claf- 
 fic authors with as much critical flvill as Mil- 
 ton did, before one can pretend to rival him 
 in the art of harmonious writing. For, af- 
 ter all the rules that can be given, there is 
 ibmething in this art, which cannot be ac- 
 quired but by a careful ftudy of the ancient 
 mafters, particularly Homer, Demofthenes, 
 Plato, Cicero, and Virgil; everyone of whom, 
 or at leaft the two firft and the laft, it would 
 be eafy to prove, that Milton has imitated,^ 
 
 in the conftrudlion of his numbers. In 
 
 a word, we have good reafon to conclude, 
 that Milton's genius, inftead of being over- 
 loaded or encumbered, was greatly impro- 
 ved, enriched, and refined, by his learning. 
 At leaft we are fure this was his own opi- 
 nion. Never was there a more indefatigable 
 ftudent. And from the fuperabundaoce of 
 Claftic allufions to be met with in every page 
 of his poetry, we may guefs how highly he 
 3X2 valued
 
 532 On the Utility of 
 
 valued the literature of Greece and Rome,' 
 and how frequently he meditated upon it. 
 
 Spenfer was learned in Latin and Greek, 
 as well as in Italian. But either the fafhion 
 of the times, or fome deficiency in his own 
 tafle, inclined him to prefer the modern to 
 the ancient models. His genius was com- 
 prehenfive and fublime, his ftyle copious, 
 his fenfe of harmony delicate : and nothing 
 feems to have been wanting to make him a 
 poet of the higheft rank, but a more inti- 
 mate acquaintance w^ith the claiTic authors. 
 We may at leaft venture to fay, that if he 
 had been a little more converfant in thefe, 
 he would not, in his Shepherd's Calendar, 
 have debafed the tendernefs of pafloral with 
 the impure mixture of theological difputa- 
 tion ; nor would he have been fo intoxicated 
 with the fplendid faults of the Orlando Fu- 
 riofo, as to conflrucft his Fairy Queen on that 
 Gothic model, rather than according to the 
 plan vvhich Homer invented, and which Vir- 
 gil and TalTo (who were alfo favourites with 
 our author) had fo happily imitated. It is 
 faid to be on account of the purity of his 
 ftyle, and the variety of his invention, and 
 not for any thing admirable in his plan, that 
 the Italians in general prefer Ariofto to Taf- 
 {o^ : — and indeed we can hardly conceive, 
 
 how 
 
 * The Academicians della Crufca publifhed crlticifms on 
 Tafib's Gierujakmme Liberata \ but thofe related chiefly 
 to the language, and were fqunded in too rigorous a par- 
 tiality
 
 Classical Learning. 533 
 
 liow a tale fo complex and fo abfurd, fo he- 
 tercgeneous in its parts, and fo extravagant 
 as a whole, fliould be more efteemed than a 
 fimple, probable, perfpicuous, and interelling 
 fable. Yet Spenfer gave the preference to the 
 former ; a fa (51 fo extraordinary, confidcring 
 his abilities in other refpecfts, that we cannot 
 account for it, without fuppofmg it to have 
 been partly the effect of a bias contradled by 
 long acquaintance. And if fo, have we not 
 reafon to think, that if he had been but e- 
 qually converfant with better patterns, his 
 tafle would have acquired a different and bet- 
 ter direction ? 
 
 Dryden's knowledge of foreign and an- 
 cient languages did not prevent his being a 
 perfe(5l mailer of his own. No author ever 
 had^ more exquifite fenfe of the energy and 
 beauty of Englifli words ; though it cannot 
 be denied, that his averfion to words of fo- 
 reign original, and his defire on all occafions 
 to do honour to his mother-tongue, betrays 
 him frequently into mean phrafes and vulgar 
 idioms. His unhappy circumftances, or ra- 
 ther perhaps the falhion of his age, alike un- 
 
 tiality for the Florentine d!ale£V. But *' the magnifl- 
 " cence of Taflb's numbers and diclion, together with 
 *' his great conformity to Epic rules, M'ill for ever over- 
 " balance Ariofto's fuperior gracefulnefs and rapidity 
 *' of expreflion, and greater fertility of invention. The 
 ** Jerufalem will always be the more flriking, and the Or- 
 *' (ando the more pleaiing of the two poems." 
 
 Baretti on Italy ^ vol. i. p. 252. 
 
 friendly
 
 534 O^ THE Utility of 
 
 friendly to good morals and good writing, 
 did not permit him to avail himfelf of his 
 great learning fo much as might have been 
 expedled. The author of Polymetis has pro- 
 ved him guilty of many miflakes in regard 
 to the ancient mythology : and I believe it 
 wrill be allowed, by all his impartial readers, 
 that a little more learning, or fomething of 
 a more claffical tafte, would have been of great 
 ufe to him, as it was to his iliuftrious imi- 
 tator. 
 
 I know not w^hether any nation ever pro- 
 duced a more fnigular genius than Cowley. 
 He abounds in tender thoughts, beautiful 
 lines, and emphatical expreflions. His wit 
 is inexhauftible, and his learning extenfive; 
 but his tarte is generally barbarous, and 
 feems to have been formed upon fuch models 
 as Donne, Martial, and the worll parts of 
 Ovid : nor is it poffible to read his longer 
 poems with pleafure, while we retain any re- 
 lifh for the fimplicity of ancient compofition. 
 If this author's ideas had been fewer, his 
 conceits would have been lefs frequent ; fo 
 that in one refpecft learning may be faid to 
 have hurt his genius. Yet it does not appear, 
 that his Greek and Latin did him any harm; 
 for his imitations of Anacreon are almoil the 
 only parts of him that are now remembered 
 or read. His Davideis, and his tranflations 
 of Pindar, are deftitute of harmony, fimpli- 
 city, and every other Claffical grace. Had 
 his inch nations led him to a frequent perufal 
 
 of
 
 : Classical Learning. 535 
 
 of the mofl: elegant authors of antiquity, his 
 poems would certainly have been the better 
 for it. 
 
 It was never faid, nor thought, that Swift, 
 Pope, or Addifon *, impaired their genius by 
 too clofe an application to Latin and Greek. 
 On the contrary, we have reafon to afcribe to 
 their knowledge of thefe tongues, that clafli- 
 cal purity of flyle by which their writings 
 are diflinguilhed. All our mofl eminent phi- 
 lofophers and divines, Bacon, Newton, Cud- 
 
 * " Mr Addifon employed his firft years in the ftudy 
 *' of the old Greek and Roman writers; vvhofe language 
 ** and manner he caught at that time of life, as ftrongly 
 *' as other young people gain a French accent, or a gen- 
 '* teel air. An early acquaintance with the Claffics is 
 " what may be called the good-breeding of poetry, as 
 *' it gives a certain gracefulnefs which never forfakes a 
 *' mind that cOntracSled it in youth, but is feldom or ne- 
 " ver hit by thofe who would learn it too late. He firlc 
 ** diftinguilhed himfelf by his Latin compofitions, pu- 
 ** bliflied in the Miifa Aiiglicana ; and was admired as 
 *' one of the beft authors fince the Auguftan age,, in the 
 *' two Univerfities, and the greateft part of Europe, be- 
 *' fore he was talked of as a poet in town. There is noc 
 '* perhaps any harder talli than to tame the natural wild- 
 ** nefs of wit, and to civilize the fancy. The generality 
 *' of our old Englifti poets abound in forced conceits and 
 " afFedted phrafes ; and even thofe who are faid to come 
 *' the neareft to exaclnefs are but too often fond of un- 
 ** nattiral beauties, and aim at fomething better than per- 
 *' fedtion. If Mr Addifon's example and precepts be the 
 ** occafion, that there now begins to be a great demand 
 " for corredlnefs, we may juftly attribute it to his be- 
 ** ing firft falliioned by the ancient models, and familia's 
 ♦* rized to propriety of thought, and chaftity of ftyle." 
 Tickets Account of the life ajtd ivritings cf Addifon, 
 
 worth,
 
 / 
 536 On the Utility of 
 
 worth, Hooker, Taylor, Atterbury, Stilliig- 
 flcet, were profoundly ikilled in ancient lite- 
 rature. And every rational admirer of Mr 
 Locke will acknowledge, that if his learning 
 had been equal to his good fenfe and manly 
 fpirit, his works would have been ftill more 
 creditable to himfelf, and more ufeful to 
 mankind. 
 
 In writings of wit and humour, one would 
 be apt to think, that there is no great occa- 
 lion for the knowledge of antiquity ; it being 
 the author's chief aim and bulinefs, to ac- 
 commodate himfelf to the manners of the 
 prefent time. And if ftudy be detrimental 
 to any faculty of the mind, we might fufpe(5l, 
 that a playful imagination, the parent of wit 
 and humour, would be mod likelv to fuffer 
 by it. Yet the hiftory of our firfl-rate ge- 
 niufes in this way (Shakefpeare always ex- 
 cepted) is a proof of the contrary. There is 
 more learning, as well as more Vv4t, in Hu- 
 dibras, than in any book of the fame fize 
 now extant. In the Tale of a Tub, the Tat- 
 ler, and the Spectator, the Memoirs of Mar- 
 tinus Scriblerus, and in many parts of Field- 
 ing, we difcover at once a brilliant wit and 
 copious erudition. 
 
 1 have confined thefe brief remarks to Eng- 
 liili writers. But the fame thing might be 
 proved by examples from every literary na- 
 tion of modern, and even of ancient Europe. 
 For we muft not fuppofe, that the Greek and 
 Latin authors, becaufe they did not fludy 
 2 many
 
 Classical Learning. 537 
 
 many languages, were illiterate men. Ho- 
 mer and Virgil were fkilled in all the learn- 
 ing of their time. The men of letters in 
 thofe days were capable of more intenfe ap- 
 plication, and had a greater third of know- 
 ledge, than the generality of the moderns ; 
 and would often, in defiance of poverty, fa- 
 tigue, and danger, travel into diftant lands, 
 and vifit famous places and perfons, to qua- 
 lify themfelves for inftrucling mankind. 
 And, however learned we may be in modern 
 writings, our curiofity can hardly fail to be 
 raifed in regard to the ancient, when we con- 
 lider, that the greater part of thefe were the 
 work, and contain the thoughts of men, who 
 had themfelves been engaged in the moil e- 
 ventful fcenes of a€live life ; while mofl mo- 
 dern books contain only the notions of fpe- 
 culative writers, who know but the theory 
 of bufinefs, and that but imperfectly, and 
 whofe determinations upon the principles of 
 great affairs, and the feelings and fentiments 
 peculiar to acflive life, are little better than 
 
 conjeclure. At any rate, may we not 
 
 affirm, that '* without the aid of ancient 
 " learning, genius cannot hope to rife to 
 ** thofe honours to which it is entitled, nor 
 '* to reach that perfe6lion to which it natu- 
 " rally afpires ?" The exceptions are fo few, 
 and fo fingular, that it is unnecelFary to inlill 
 upon them. 
 
 Were we to confider this matter abftrac^ly, 
 we fhould be led to the fame conclufion. 
 
 Vol, II. 3 Y Far
 
 ^T,S On the Utility of ! 
 
 For what is the effecl of learning upon a 
 found mind ? Is it not to enlarge our flock, 
 of ideas ; to afcertain and corre6l our expe- 
 rimental knowledge ; to give us habits of at- 
 tention, recoUecflion, and obfervation ; and 
 help us to methodife our thoughts, whether 
 acquired or natural, as well as to exprefs them 
 w4th perfpicuity and elegance ? This may 
 give a du^ecftion to our inventive powers, but 
 furely cannot weaken them. The very worft 
 effedl that Claffical learning can produce on 
 the intelligent mind, is, that it may fome- 
 times transform an original genius into an 
 imitator. Yet this happens not often ; and 
 when it does happen, we ought not perhaps 
 to complain. Ingenious imitations may be 
 as delightful, and as ufeful, as original com- 
 pofitions. One would not exchange Virgil's 
 Georgic for twenty fuch poems as Heliod's 
 JVorks and Days^ nor Pope's Eloifa for all the 
 Epiilles of Ovid. The fixth book of the E- 
 neid, though an imitation of the eleventh of 
 the OdylTey, is incomparably more fublime ; 
 and the night-adventure of Diomede and U- 
 lylles, excellent as it is, muft be allowed to 
 be inferior to the epifode of Nifus and Eury- 
 alus. Several cantos might be mentioned of 
 the Fairy ^leen^ the prefervation of which 
 would not compenfate the lofs of The Cajile 
 of Indolence : and notwithftanding the merit 
 of Cervantes, I believe there are few Critics in 
 Great Britain, who do not think in their 
 hearts, that Fielding has outdone his mafter. 
 
 While
 
 Classical Learning. 539 
 
 While the literary world can boafl of fuch 
 imitators as Virgil and TafTo, Boileau and 
 Pope, it has no great reafon to lament the 
 fcarcity of original writers. 
 
 IV. The fourth and laft objcdion to the 
 fludy of Latin and Greek, " That the ClalTic 
 " authors contain defcriptions and doc- 
 *' trines, that tend to feduce the underfhand- 
 " ing, and corrupt the heart," — is unhap- 
 pily founded in truth. And indeed, in mofh 
 languages there are too many books liable to 
 this cenfure. And, though a melancholy 
 truth, it is however true, that a young man, 
 in his clofet, and at a diftance from bad ex- 
 ample, if he has the misfortune to fall into a 
 certain track of fludy which at prefent is not 
 unfaftiionable, may debafe his underifand- 
 ing, corrupt his heart, and learn the rudi- 
 ments of almoft every depravation incident 
 to human nature. But to effect this, the 
 knowledge of modern tongues is alone fuffi- 
 cient. Immoral and impious writing is one 
 of thofe arts in which the moderns are con- 
 fefTedly fuperior to the Greeks and Romans. 
 
 It does not appear, from what remains of 
 their works, that any of the old philofophers 
 ever went fo far as fome of the modern, in 
 recommending irreligion and immorality. 
 The Pagan theology is too abfurd to lelfen 
 our reverence for the Gofpel ; but fome of 
 our philofophers, as we are pleafed to call 
 them, have been labouring hard, and I fear 
 not Vv'ithout fuccefs, to make mankind re* 
 3 Y 2 nounce
 
 54'^ On the Utility of 
 
 nounce all regard for religious truth, both 
 natural and revealed. Jupiter and his kin- 
 dred gods may pafs for machines in an an- 
 cient Epic poem ; but in a modern one they 
 would be ridiculous, even in that capacity : 
 a proof, that in fpite of the enchanting 
 llrains wherein their atchievements are ce- 
 lebrated, they have loft all credit and conii- 
 deration in the world, and that the idola- 
 trous fables of clalTical poetry can never 
 more do any harm. From the fcepticifm of 
 Pyrrho, and the Atheifm of Epicurus, what 
 danger is now to be apprehended 1 The 
 language of Empiricus, and the poetry of 
 Lucretius, may claim attention; but the rea- 
 fonings of both the one and the other are too 
 childilli to fubvert any found principle, or 
 corrupt any good heart ; and would proba- 
 bly have been forgotten or defpifed long ago, 
 if feme worthy authors of thefe latter times 
 had not taken pains to revive and recom- 
 mend them. The parts of ancient fcience 
 that are, and always have been, ftudied moft, 
 are the Peripatetic and Stoical fyftems ; and 
 thefe may undoubtedly be read, not only 
 without danger, but even with great benefit 
 both to the heart and to the imderftanding. 
 The finell treatifes of Pagan morality are 
 indeed imperfecft ; but their authors are en- 
 titled to honour, for a good intention, and 
 for having done their beft. Error in that 
 icience, as well as in theology, though in us 
 the efic6l of prejudice and pride, was gene- 
 rally
 
 Classical Learning. 541 
 
 rally in them the efFe(5l of ignorance : and 
 thofe of them, whofe names are moil: re- 
 nowned, and whofe dodlrines are bed un- 
 derftood, as Socrates, Ariftotle, Cicero, Se- 
 neca, Epi(5letus, and Antoninus, have pro- 
 bably done, and ftill may do, fervice to man- 
 kind, by the importance of their precepts, 
 by their amiable picSliires of particular vir- 
 tues, and by the pathetic admonitions and 
 appofite examples and reafonings wherewith 
 their morality is enforced. Love to their 
 country ; the parental, filial, and conjugal 
 charities ; refignation to the Divine will ; fu- 
 periority to the evils of life, and to the gifts 
 of fortune ; the laws of juflice, the rights 
 of human nature ; the dignity of tempe- 
 rance, the.bafenefs of fenfuality, the proper 
 diredlion of fortitude, and a generous, can- 
 did, and friendly behaviour, are enjoined in 
 their writings with a warmth of exprefTion, 
 and force of argument, which a Chriftian 
 moralift might be proud to imitate. — In a 
 word, I think it may be affirmed with confi- 
 dence, that the knowledge of ancient philo- 
 fophy and hiftory muft contribute to the 
 improvement of the human mind, but can- 
 not now corrupt the heart or underflanding 
 of any perfon who is a friend to truth and 
 virtue. 
 
 But what have you to fay in vindication 
 of the indecency of the ancient poets, of A- 
 riftophanes, Catullus, Ovid, Martial, Petro- 
 nius, and even of Perfius, Juvenal, and Ho- 
 race ?
 
 542" On the Utility of 
 
 race ? Truly, not a word. I abandon every 
 thing of that fort, whether modern or an- 
 cient, to the utmoft vengeance of Satire and 
 Criticifm ; and iliould rejoice to hear, that 
 from the monuments of human wit all in- 
 decency were expunged for ever. Nor is 
 there any circumftance that could attend 
 fuch a purification, that would make me re- 
 gret it. The immoral pafTages in mofl of the 
 authors now mentioned are but few, and 
 have neither elegance nor harmony to re- 
 commend them to any but profligates : — - 
 fb Ilridl is the connedlion between virtue and 
 good tafle ; and fo true it is, that want of 
 decency will always in one degree or other 
 betray want of fenfe. Horace, Perlius, Mar- 
 tial, Catullus, and Ovid himfelf, might give 
 up all their immoralities, without loiing any 
 of their wit : — and as to Ariftophanes and 
 Petronius, 1 have never been able to difcover 
 any thing in either, that might not be con- 
 ligned to eternal oblivion, without the leaft 
 detriment to literature. The latter, notwith- 
 fbmding the name which he has, I know not 
 how, acquired, is in every refped: (with the 
 referve of a few tolerable verfes fcattered 
 through his book) a vile writer ; his fiyle 
 harfli and affedled ; and his argument fuch 
 as can excite no emotion, in any mind not 
 utterly depraved, but contempt and abhor- 
 rence. The wit and humour of the Athenian 
 poet are now become almoft inviiible, and 
 leem never to have been very conlpicuous. 
 
 The
 
 Classical Learning. 543 
 
 The reception he met with in his own time 
 was probably owing to the hcentioufnefs of 
 his manners, and the virulence of his defa- 
 mation, (qualities which have given a tem- 
 porary name to more bad poets than one) ; 
 and for his reputation in latter times, as a 
 claflic author, he mufl have been indebted, 
 not to the poignancy of his wit, or the deli- 
 cacy of his humour, nor to his powers of 
 invention and arrangement, nor to any na- 
 tural difplay of human manners to be found 
 in him, (for of all this merit he feems to be 
 deflitute), but folely to the antiquity of his 
 language. In proof of one part of this re- 
 mark, it may be obferved, that Plato in his 
 Sympoftum delbribes him as a glutton, drunk- 
 ard, and profligate : and to evince the pro- 
 bability of another' part of it, I need only 
 mention the exceflive labour and zeal where- 
 with commentators have illuflrated certain 
 Greek and Latin performances, which if they 
 had been written in our days would never 
 have been read, and which cannot boaft of 
 any excellence, either in the ientiment or 
 compoiition. 
 
 But do you really think, that fuch mutila- 
 tions of the old poets, as you feein to pro- 
 pofe, can ever take place ? Do you think, 
 that the united authority of all the potentates 
 on earth could annihilate, or confign to ob- 
 livion, thofe exceptionable pafiages ? — I do 
 not : bvit 1 think that thofe pafiages fhould 
 never be explained, nor put in the hands of 
 
 children.
 
 544 ^N THE Utility of 
 
 children. And fure, it is not neceflary that 
 they fhould. In fome late editions of Horace, 
 the impurities are omitted, and not fo much 
 left as a line of afterifks, to raife a boy's cu- 
 riolity. By the attention of parents and 
 teachers, might not all the poets ufually read 
 in fchools be printed in the fame manner ? 
 Might not children be informed, that, in 
 order to become learned, it is neceffary to 
 read, not every Greek and Latin book, but 
 thofe books only that mav mend the heart, 
 improve the tafte, and enlarge the under- 
 ftanding ? Might they not be made fenfible 
 of the importance of Bacon's aphorlfm, 
 *' That fome books are to be tafted, others 
 "to be fv^allowed, and fome few to be 
 '* chewed and digefted ?" — that is, as the 
 Noble author explains it, " That fome are to 
 " be read only in parts ; others to be read, 
 " but not curioufly ; and fome few to be 
 *' read wholly with diligence and attention ?" 
 — a rule, which, if duly attended to, would 
 greatly promote the advancement of true 
 learning, and the pleafure and profit of the 
 ftudent. Might not a young man be taught 
 to fet a proper value on good compofitions, 
 and to entertain fuch contempt for the bad, 
 as would fecure him againfl their influence ? 
 All this 1 cannot but think pradicable, if 
 thofe who luperintend education would fludy 
 to advance the moral as well as intelledtuat 
 improvement of the fcholar ; and if teach- 
 ers, tranflators, and commentators, would 
 2 coniider.
 
 Classical Learning. 545 
 
 Confider^ that to explain dulnefs is foolifli, 
 and to illuftrate obfcenity criminal. And if 
 all this were pradlifed, we flioiild have no 
 reafon to complain, of clafTical erudition, 
 that it has any tendency to feduce the un- 
 derftanding, or mllame the paflions. In 
 fa 61, its inflammatory and feduciive quali- 
 ties would never have been alarming, if 
 commentators had thought more, and writ- 
 ten lefs. But they were unhappily too wife 
 to value any thing beyond the knowledge of 
 old v/ords. To have told them, that it is 
 effential to all good writing to improve as 
 well as inform, and to regulate the affections 
 as well as amufe the fancy and enrich the 
 memory ; that wicked books can pleafe none 
 but worthlefs men, who have no right to be 
 pleafed, and that their authors inftead of 
 praife deferve punifhment ; — would have 
 been to addrefs them in a ftyle, which with 
 all their knowledge of the grammar and dic- 
 tionary they could not have underflood *. 
 
 Still 
 
 * It muft move the indignation of every perfon who 
 is not an arrant bookworm, or abandoned debuuchee, 
 to obferve how induftrioufly Johannes Doufa, and o- 
 thers of that phlegmatic brotherhood, have expounded 
 the indecencies of Greece and Ptome, and dragged into 
 light thofe abominations that ought to have remained in 
 titter darknefs for ever. — Monf. Nodot, a critic of the 
 laft century, on occafion of having recovered, as he pre- 
 tends, a '^art of an ancient manuicript, writes to Monf. 
 Charpeiitier, Dire&ur de I'academie Francoiie, in the 
 following terms. " J' ai fait, Monlieur, uae djcouverce 
 
 Vol. II. 3 Z tres^
 
 546 On the Utility of 
 
 Still I fiiall be told, that this fcheme, tho' 
 pracfticable, is too difficult to permit the hope 
 of its being ever put in execution. Perhaps 
 it may be fo. And what then ? Becaufe 
 palTages that convey improper ideas may be 
 found in fome ancient writings, fhall we de- 
 prive young people of all the in{lru6lion and 
 pleafure that attends a regular courfe of clafli- 
 cal ftudy ? Becaufe Horace wrote fome paul- 
 try lines, and Ovid fome worthlefs poems, 
 muft Virgil, and Livy, and Cicero, and Plu- 
 tarch, and Homer, be configned to oblivion ? 
 I do not here fpeak of the beauties of the 
 Greek and Latin authors, nor of the vafl dif- 
 proportion there is between what is good in 
 them, and w^hat is bad. In every thing hu- 
 man there is a mixture of evil : but are we 
 
 tres-avantageufe a I'emplrc des lettres : et pour ne pas 
 tenir vctre efprit en fufpens, plein de la joye q\ie je refTens 
 inoi-meme, je vous dirai avec precipitation, que j'ai entre 
 
 mes ma'ns ce qui manquoit de . Vous pouvez 
 
 croire, Monlieur, fi aimant cet auteur au point que je 
 
 fais ccc. Vous appercevrez, Monlieur, dans cet 
 
 ouvrage des beautes qui vous charmeront. Je vous 
 
 prie d'annoncer cette decouverte a vos illuftres Academi- 
 ciens ; elle merite bien, qu' ils la r9achent des premiers. 
 Je fuis ravi que la fortune fe foit fervie de moi, pour 
 rendre a la poilerite un ouvrage fi precieux," &c. If the 
 loft Decades of Livy had been recovered, this zealous 
 Frenchman could hardly have exprelTed himfelf with 
 more enthufiafm. What then will the reader think when 
 he is told, that this wonderful acceilion to literature, was 
 no other than Petronius Arbiter ; an author, whom it is 
 impollible to read without intenfe difguft, and whom, if 
 he be ancient, (which is not certain), I fcruple not to call 
 a difgracc to antiquity ? 
 
 for
 
 Classical Learning. 547 
 
 for that reafon to throw ofF all concern abou 
 human things ? Muft we fet our harvefls 
 on fire, or leave them to perifh, becaufe a 
 few tares have fprung up with the corn ? 
 Becaufe oppreflion will fometlmes take place 
 where-ever there is fubordination, and luxu- 
 ry where-ever there is fecurity, are we there- 
 fore to renounce all government ? — or fhall 
 we, according to the advice of certain fa- 
 mous projecftors, run naked to the woods, 
 and there encounter every hardfliip and bru- 
 tality of favage life, in order to efcape from 
 the tooth-ach and rheumatifm ? If we re- 
 jedl every ufeful inftitution that may poflibly 
 be attended with inconvenience, we muft re- 
 jecft all bodily exercife, and all bodily reft, all 
 arts and fciences, all law, commerce, and fo- 
 ciety. 
 
 If the prefent obje^lion prove any thing 
 decifive againft ancient literature, it will 
 prove a great deal more againft the modern. 
 Of clafTical indecency compared with that of 
 latter times, I do not think fo favourably as 
 did a certain critic, who likened the former 
 to the nakednefs of a child, and the latter to 
 that of a proftitute ; I think there is too 
 much of the laft chara(?cer in bodi : but 
 that the modern mufes partake of it more 
 than the ancient, is undeniable. I do not 
 care to prove what I fay, by a detail ot par- 
 ticulars ; and am forry to add, that the point 
 is too plain to require proof. And if fo, 
 may not an early acquaintance with the bcft 
 3 Z 2 ancient
 
 548 On the Utility of 
 
 ancient authors, as teachers of wifdom, and 
 models of good tafte, be highly ufcful as a 
 prefervative fi'om the fophiftries and immo- 
 ralities that difgrace fome of our fafhion- 
 able moderns ? If a true tafle for ClaiTic 
 learning fliall ever become general, the de- 
 mand for licentious plays, poems, and no- 
 vels, will abate in proportion ; for it is to 
 the more illiterate readers that this fort of 
 trafli is mod acceptable. Study, fo ignomi- 
 nious and fo debaling, fo unworthy of a 
 fcholar and of a man, fo repugnant to good 
 tafte and good manners, will hardly engage 
 the attention of thofe who can reliih the ori- 
 ginal magni licence of Homer and Virgil, De- 
 moflhenes and Cicero. 
 
 A book is of fbme value, if it yield harm- 
 lefs amufement ; it is ftill more valuable, if 
 it communicate inftru(5lion ; but if it an- 
 fwer both purpofes, it is truly a matter of 
 importance to mankind. That many of the 
 clailic authors poirefTed the art of blending 
 fweetnefs wirh utility, has been the opinion 
 of all men without exception,, who had lenfe 
 and learning fufiicient to qualify them to be 
 judges. — Is hifcory inflru(5live and enter- 
 taining ? We have from thefe authors a de- 
 tail of the nioft important events unfolded in 
 the moil interefling manner. AVithout the 
 hiftories they have left us, we fhould have 
 been both ignorant of their affairs, and un- 
 ikilled in the art of recording our own : 
 tvi^ I think it is allowed, that the bed mo- 
 dern
 
 Classical Learning. 549 
 
 dern hiftories are thofe which in form are 
 mod fimilar to the ancient models. — Is phi- 
 lofophy a fource of improvement and de- 
 light ? The Greeks and Romans have given 
 us, I fhall not fay the mod ufeful, but 1 will 
 fay the fundamental, part of human fcience ; 
 have led us into a train of thinking, which 
 of ourfelves we fliould not fo foon have ta- 
 ken to ; and have fet before us an endlefs 
 multitude of examples and inferences, which, 
 though not exempt from error, do however 
 fuggeft the proper methods of obfervation 
 and profitable inquiry. Let thofe, who un- 
 dervalue the difcoveries of antiquity, only 
 think, what our condition at this day mull 
 have been, if, in the ages of darknefs that 
 followed the deflrudlion of the Roman em- 
 pire, all the literary monuments of Greece 
 and Italy had perifhed. — Again, is there any 
 thing producftive of utility and pleafure, in 
 the ficftions of poetry, and in tlie charms of 
 harmonious compofition ? Surely, it cannot 
 be doubted ; nor will they, who have any 
 knowledge of the hiftory of learning, heii- 
 tate to affirm, that the modern Europeans 
 are almofl wholly indebted for the beauty of 
 their writings both in profe and verfe, to 
 thofe models of elegance that firfl appeared 
 in Greece, and have fince been admired and 
 imitated all over the weflern world. It is a 
 ftriking facl, that while in other parts of 
 die earth there prevails a form of language, 
 fo (Jifg^^iied by figures, and io darkened by 
 
 incoherence.
 
 ^^o On the Utility of 
 
 incoherence, as to be quite unfuitable to phi- 
 lofophy, and even in poetry tirefome, the 
 Europeans Ihould have been fo long in pol- 
 feffion of a ftyle, in which harmony, per- 
 fpicuity, fimpUcity, and elegance, are fo hap- 
 pily united. That the Romans and modern 
 Europeans had it from the Greeks, is well 
 known ; but whence thofe fathers of litera- 
 ture derived it, is not fo apparent, and would 
 furnilh matter for too long a digreffion, if we 
 were here to inquire. — In a word, the 
 Greeks and Romans are our mafters in all 
 polite literature ; a confideration, which of 
 itfelf ought to infpire reverence for their wri- 
 tings and genius. 
 
 Good tranflations are very ufeful ; but the 
 bed of them will not render the fludy of 
 the original authors either unnecefTary or un- 
 profitable. This might be proved by many 
 arguments. 
 
 All living languages are liable to change. 
 The Greek and Latin, though compofed of 
 more durable materials than ours, were fub- 
 je(fl to perpetual vicilTitude, till they ceafed 
 to be fpoken. The former is with reafon 
 believed to have been more flationary than 
 any other ; and indeed a very particular at- 
 tention was paid to the preiervation of it : 
 yet between L?penfer and Pope, Hooker and 
 Sherlock, Raleigh and SmoUet, a difference 
 of dialeift is not more percepcible, than be- 
 tween Homer and Apolionius, Xenophon 
 iind Plutarch, Ariflotle and Antoninus. In 
 
 the
 
 Classical Learning. 551 
 
 the Roman authors the change of language is 
 ftill more remarkable. How different, in 
 this refpedl, is Ennius from Virgil, Lucilius 
 from Horace, Cato from Columella, and even 
 Catullus from Ovid ! The laws of the 
 Twelve Tables, though fludied by every Ro- 
 man of condition, were not perfedlly under- 
 ftood even by antiquarians, in the time of 
 Cicero, when they were not quite four hun- 
 dred years old. Cicero himfelf, as well as 
 Lucretius, made feveral improvements in the 
 Latin tongue ; Yirgil introdviced fome new 
 words ; and Horace aflerts his right to the 
 fiime privilege ; and from his remarks upon 
 it *, appears to have conlidered the immu- 
 tability of living language as an impoffible 
 thing. It were vain then to flatter ourfelves 
 with the hope of permanency to any of the 
 modern tongues of Europe ; which, being 
 more ungrammatical than the Latin and 
 Greek, are expofed to more dangerous, be- 
 caufe lefs difcernible innovations. Our want 
 of tenfes and cafes makes a multitude of au- 
 xiliary words neceifary ; and to thefe the un- 
 learned are not attentive, becaufe they look 
 upon them as the lead important parts of 
 lariguage ; and hence they come to be omit- 
 ted or mifapplied in converfation, and after- 
 wards in writing. Befides, the fpirit of com- 
 merce, manufacture, and naval enter prife, fo 
 honourable to modern Europe, and to Great 
 
 * Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. 46. — 72. 
 
 Britain
 
 ^^1 On the Utility of 
 
 Britain in particular, and the free circulation 
 of arts, fciences, and opinions, owing in part 
 to the ufe of printing, and to our improve- 
 ments in navigation, cannot fail to render 
 the modern tongues, and efpecially the Eng- 
 lifli, more variable than the Greek or Latin. 
 Much indeed has been done of late to afcer- 
 tain and fix the Engliih tongue. Johnfon's 
 Diclionary is a moft important, and, con- 
 lidered as the work of one man, a moft 
 wonderful performance. It does honour to 
 England, and to human genius ; and proves, 
 that there is flill left among us a force of 
 mind equal to that which formerly diitin- 
 guiflied a Stephanus or a Varro. Its influ- 
 ence in diffufing the knowledge of the lan- 
 guage, and retarding its decline, is already 
 obfervable : 
 
 Si Pergama dextra 
 Defend! poflent, etiam hac' defenia fuiflent. 
 
 And yet, within the lad twenty years, and 
 lince this great work was publifhed, a mul- 
 titude of new words have found their w^ay 
 into the Englifli tongue, and, though both 
 unauthorifed and unnecelTary, feem likel;^' to 
 remain in it. 
 
 In this fiudtuating ftate of the modern 
 languages^ and of our own in particular, 
 what could we expecfl from translations, if 
 the ftudy of Greek and Latin v/ere to be dif- 
 continued ? Suppofe all the good books of 
 2 antiquity
 
 Classical LearnincJ* 553 
 
 antiquity tranflated into Englifh, and the o- 
 riginals deftroyed, or, which is nearly the 
 fame thing, negledled. That Englifh grows 
 obfolete in one century ; and, in two, that 
 tranllation muft be retranflated. If there 
 were faults in the firft, and I never heard of 
 a faultlefs tranflation, they muft be multi- 
 plied tenfold in the fecond. So that, within 
 a few centuries, there is reafon to fear, that 
 all the old authors would be either loft, or 
 fo mangled as to be hardly worth prefer- 
 ving. — A fyftem of Geometry, one woutd 
 think, mufl lofe lefs in a tolerable tranflation, 
 than any other fcience. Political ideas are 
 fomewhat variable ; moral notions are am- 
 biguous in their names at leafl, if not in 
 themfelves ; the abflrufer fciences fpeak a 
 language flill more indefinite : but ideas of 
 number and quantity muft for ever remain 
 diftindt. And yet fome late authors have 
 thrown light upon Geometry, by reviving 
 the ftudy of the Greek geometricians. Let 
 any man read a tranflation of Cicero and Li- 
 vy, and then ftudy the author in his own 
 tongue ; and he fliall find himfelf not only 
 more delighted with the manner, but alfo 
 more fully inftrudted in the matter. 
 
 Beauty of ftyle, and harmony of verfe, 
 would decay at the firft tranflation, and at 
 the fecond or third be quite loft. It is not 
 pofTible for one who is ignorant of Latin to 
 have any adequate notion of Virgil ; the 
 choice of his words, and the modulation of 
 
 Vol. n. 4 A his
 
 554 
 
 On the Utility of 
 
 his numbers, have never been copied with 
 tolerable fuccefs in any other tongue. Ho- 
 mer has been of all poets the moft fortunate 
 in a tranflator ; his fable, defcriptions, and 
 pathos, and, for the moft part, his charac- 
 ers, we find in Pope : but we find not his 
 fimplicity, nor his impetuofity, nor that ma- 
 jeftic inattention to the more trivial niceties 
 of ftyle, which is fo graceful in him, but 
 w^hich no other poet dares imitate. Homer 
 in Greek feems to fing extempore, and from 
 immediate infpiration, or enthufiafm * ; but 
 in Englilh his phrafeology and numbers are 
 not a little elaborate : which I mention, not 
 with any view to detracfl from the tranflator, 
 who truly deferves the highefl praife, but to 
 Ihow the infufficiency of modern language 
 to convey a juft idea of ancient writing. — I 
 need not enlarge on this fubjedl : it is well 
 known, that few of the great authors of an- 
 tiquity have ever been adequately tranflated. 
 No man who underftands Plato, Demofthenes, 
 or Xenophon, in the Greek, or Livy, Cicero, 
 and Virgil, in the Latin, would willingly 
 perufe even the bell tranflations of thofe au-? 
 thors. 
 
 * " His poems (fays a very learned writer) were made 
 *' to be recited, or Tung to a company ; and not read ia 
 *' private, or perufed in a book, which few were then 
 ^* capable of doing : and I will venture to affirm, that 
 ^' whoever reads not Homer in this view, lofes a great 
 " part of the delight he might receive from the poet.** 
 Blciikwell's Inquiry into the Life and JVritings of Horner^ 
 
 If
 
 Classical Learning. ^^^ 
 
 If one mode of compofition be better than 
 another, which will fcarce be denied, it is 
 furely worth while to preferve a (landard of 
 that which is beft. This cannot be done, 
 but by preferving the original authors ; and 
 they cannot be faid to be preferved, unlefs 
 they be ftudied and underflood. Tranllations 
 are like portraits. They may give fome idea 
 of the lineaments and colour, but the life 
 and the motion they cannot copy ; and too 
 often, inftead of exhibiting the air of the 
 original, they prefent us with that only which 
 is moft agreeable to the tafte of the painter. 
 Abolifh the originals, and you will foon fee 
 the copies degenerate. 
 
 There are in England two excellent flyles 
 of poetical compofition. Milton is our mo- 
 del in the one ; Dryden and Pope in the o- 
 ther. Milton formed himfelf on the an- 
 cients, and on the modern Italians who imi- 
 tate their anceftors of old Rome. Dryden 
 and Pope took the Fi'ench poets for their pat-^ 
 tern, particularly Boileau, who followed the 
 ancients (of whom he was a pafTionate ad- 
 mirer) as far as the profaic genius of the 
 French tongue would permit. If we rejecft 
 the old authors, and take thefe great moderns 
 for our flandard, we do nothing more than 
 copy after a copy. If we reject both, and fet 
 about framing new modes of compofition, 
 our fuccefs will probably be no better, than 
 that of the projectors whom Gulliver vifite(i 
 in the metropolis of Balnibarbi. 
 
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