MASTER 
 NEGATIVE 
 NO. 91-80300 
 
MICROFILMED 1991 
 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES/NEW YORK 
 
 iC 
 
 as part of the 
 Foundations of Western Civilization Preservation Project 
 
 Funded by the 
 NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES 
 
 Reproductions may not be made without permission from 
 
 Columbia University Library 
 
COPYRIGHT STATEMENT 
 
 The copyright law of the United States - Title 17, United 
 States Code -- concerns the making of photocopies or other 
 reproductions of copyrighted material... 
 
 Columbia University Library reserves the right to refuse to 
 accept a copy order if. in its judgement, fulfillment of the order 
 would mvolve violation of the copyright law. 
 
AUTHOR: 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 TITLE: 
 
 ARISTOTLE'S TREATISE 
 ON POETRY 
 
 PL A CE: 
 
 LONDON 
 
 DA TE : 
 
 1812 
 
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT 
 
 BIBLIOGRAl^liiC MIC R0{ ORM lAKGET 
 
 Master Negative # 
 
 Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record 
 
 !S8Ar51 
 
 iSX 
 
 Restrictions on Use: 
 
 De arte poetica. Eng^ 
 ^Twining. 
 
 Aristoteles. 
 
 Aristotle's ti^atise on poetry, translated with notes on the 
 translation, and on the orie^inal ; and two diss43rtation8, on po- 
 etical and musical, imitation. By Th(3mas Twining, m. a. The 
 2d ed. ... by Daniel Twining .,, Ix)ndon, Priiit-eii by L. Han- 
 sard & sons, and sold by T. Cadell and W. Da vies; retc., etc., 
 1812. » I » J 
 
 2?. 23*". 
 
 1. Poetry—Early works to 1800. 2. Esthetics— Early works to 1800 
 3. Music— Philosophy and esthetics. i. Twining, Thomas, 1785-1804. 
 e47~aod-tr. ji. Twining. Daniel, ed. "" 
 
 Library of Congress 
 
 &— 223 
 
 PN1040A5T8 1812 
 |44n, 
 
 TECHNICAL MICROFORM DATA 
 
 REDUCTION RATIO: 
 
 FILM SIZE:„5jp_^_rr%_|vi 
 
 IMAGE PLACEMENT: lA M IB IIB 
 
 DATE FILMED: J0.3^t5L:HguL INITIALS 
 
 HLMEDBY: RESEARCH PUBLICATIONS^ INC WOODRRmnrT'T 
 
 11 
 
c 
 
 AsMciation for InforaMUon and Image Managamant 
 
 1100 Wayne Avenue, Suite 1100 
 Silver Spring. Maryland 20910 
 
 301/587-8202 
 
 
 
 •?, 
 
 Centimeter 
 
 ii 
 
 lIlMll 
 
 Inches 
 
 Ji 
 
 TH'T'TT'I i1 n iTTi F'l I'l'l'' 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 iiiimiiii 
 
 I TT 
 
 10 n 
 
 UilUiiljllili 
 
 1^ 
 
 lit 
 u 
 
 ■tteu 
 
 1^ 
 
 3.2 
 
 1 4.0 
 
 1.4 
 
 T I I I [ 
 
 4 
 
 12 13 
 
 14 15 mm 
 
 iiiilMiiliinr 
 
 2,5 
 
 2.2 
 
 2.0 
 
 1.8 
 
 .6 
 
 MONUFflCTURED TO fillM STRNDRRDS 
 BY RPPLIED IMAGE. INC. 
 
 4 
 
i'f**^^tmH<i#'#K?fiff:^m^f.TTt^;>:.^ 
 
 ^r W_ t , 1^, , 
 
 
 ,:tK 
 
 
 lik 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 •».^^i-"* 
 
 ;Hm. ■ 
 
 f." rr 
 
 <. 
 
 » • • 
 
 'hr-'" 
 
 . J -:: 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 • V ' ' - * 
 
 1 ' 
 
 **t>}fi 
 
 * 
 
 i:*.i:J 
 
 L . t 
 
 |i|'»«. : 
 
 PI 
 
 : , • 
 
 . J. 
 
 
 • 
 
 7(1 ;1 
 
 MSI 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 * . * » - • 
 
 
 1 
 
 • ' ^; if 
 
 
 1 '\ 
 
 
 « • ♦ 1- • 
 
 I .^ ■•' I 
 
 i ij:l,: 
 
 » ii i ^ t . <! 
 
 " • -I - 
 
 
 -r.tf-T5 
 
 
 
 
 ->.i f ^ It?.?-: I 
 
 Sili- ••::ijt• 
 
 litl- ' • • 
 
 f; 
 
 *i * ; ■ 
 
 . » 
 
 ■ ' ' ' fT f» T> J 
 
 '^N'f»f»- f ;< if7,'; -«*T 
 
 
 ■Utttfr: 
 
> >v • y v'f^' ''"Fir 
 
 
 
ARISTOTLE'S 
 
 "Treatise on poetry. 
 
 TRANSLATED: 
 
 WITH 
 
 NOTES 
 
 ON THE TRANSLATION, AND ON THE ORIGINAL ; 
 
 AND 
 
 TWO DISSERTATIONS, 
 
 ON POETICAL, AND MUSICAL, HVHTATION. 
 
 BY THOMAS TWINING, M.A. 
 
 OK, ,fi^l 
 
 THE SECOND EDIT! 
 , IN TWO VOLUMES, 
 
 BY DANIEL TWINING, M.A. 
 
 r i 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Printed 6^ Luke Hansard i^ Sons, near Lincoln' s-Inn Fields : 
 
 AND SOLD BY 
 
 T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, IK THE fTRAND ; PAYNE, PALL-MALL J 
 
 WHITE, COCH«ANE, AND CO. FLEET-STREET ; 
 LONGMAN, HURST, REE9, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-BOW; 
 
 DEIOHTON, CAMBRIDGE; OJld PARKER, OXFORD. 
 
 1812. 
 
 f 
 
 ■^ '■y '> .g B Er'g «* i^.:y;i??fa;j, iW(! jff"" ^ ^ 
 

 ah 
 
 Df. JAMES PECM 
 June 7. >«3 
 
 
 > 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 TO THIS EDITION. 
 
 HA D a new Edition of this Trandation been 
 called for at an earlie?^ period, a7id at a timeichen 
 its Author possessed the opportunities of "^ health 
 and leisure, it is impossible to say what alteraticns 
 or additions he might have made. That in the 
 progress of preparing it he uvuld have made some 
 is most probable. But his removal to a situation 
 in which his time was more occupied by profes'- 
 sional duties, together with the declining state of 
 his health, seems to have prevented him from 
 turning much of his attention towards the accom* 
 plishmcnt of this design. It is certain, however^ ' 
 that the publication of another Edition had 
 sometimes been in his contemplation ; and that in 
 consequence he had even xvrittcn doze?? a fezo 
 short Memoranda ; — but it does not appear that 
 a necessity of making many alterations or additions 
 had ever occurred to him. 
 
 The only new materials, then, which he has 
 left for this Edition consist in a small collection of 
 such Remarks as were suggested to him by 
 reading the Notes in Mr. Ty)^'hitt*s Edition of 
 the Treatise on Poetry,— intended, as appears in 
 his awn hand-writing y merely ^""for his oun use, 
 
 A3 in 
 
 \ 
 
 y 
 
ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 in case hcsfwtfid ever publhh a second Edition of 
 his book ; "—and, Ukeuise, a few marginal notes 
 in his o-um copy of the first Edition. For the 
 possession of these, as zvell as Jor assistance and 
 advice in the me of them, Iain umnlting to con- 
 ceal, that I am indebted to my Father * 
 
 That these Remarks are not drrnm up with 
 all that ,care which the Author would have 
 bestowed upon them before he presented them to 
 the publick eye, will be apparent to the Reader 
 on the slightest comparison of them zcith the old, 
 and more finished Notes. But as nothing which 
 proceeds from a mind habituated to refection, ' 
 upon a subject to which it has been particularly 
 directed, can properly be deemed hasty, I have 
 ventured to select some of these Remarks for 
 publicatioti. 
 
 In making the Selection, I have rejected those 
 which he had evidently reserved for future con- 
 sideration. Those in -which he has spoken with a 
 stronger tone of decision,- whet her admitting his 
 mm errors, or confirming his former opimons; or 
 expressing his concurrence with the observations of 
 Mr. Tyrwhitt,—! have thought it due to himself 
 to Mr. Tyrwhitt; and to the publick, to make 
 known. 
 
 It is manifest that thtre are ihvee'^ passages 
 
 V 
 
 •Richard Twining, Esq. of hleworth ;-broAer of 
 the I ranslator. 
 
 t See Remarks 7. 31. 33. 
 
 ■' 
 
 ^ 
 
 TO THIS EDITION. 
 
 of the former Edition which would have engaged 
 the particular attention of the Translator. But 
 as he has not fully shewn, and perhaps in his aujn 
 mind had not fully detemuned upon, the exact 
 manner, and the very xvords, in which he would 
 have altered either the passages in his Tramlation, 
 or the Notes which relate to them, I have been 
 compelled, however reluctantly, to retain both the 
 Translation sand the original Notes as I found 
 ff^cm :— leaving it to every Reader to make his 
 own application of the additional Rkmarks. 
 
 fVith res})cct, indeed, to Note 241. / may be 
 permitted to say, that I retain it with little or no 
 reluctance : because, though it be probable that the 
 tvords—nfjix h <[>n<r^v,— received by Mr. Tyrwhitt 
 into his Text, wiU in future be universally' 
 preferred, and in consequence the criticism here 
 combated by the Translator be universally aban- 
 doned, yet, the Note will, I think, remain a fair 
 as well as an honourable testimony, that the taste, 
 learning, and unbiassed judgment of the Author, 
 had at least guarded him from assenting to that 
 erroneous ijiterpretatim,— sanctioned as it was by 
 very eminent men,— which would have lowered, 
 and in a great degree explained away, one of the 
 most beautiful passages of the Iliad. 
 
 THE EDITOR. 
 Stilton^ Octr 1, 1812. 
 
 A 4 
 
 ' • • 
 
E R RATA: 
 
 VOL. I. 
 p. 117. last line but one - - /or si - - - . read is. 
 
 127. margin /or Historain - read Historian. 
 
 145. note 6, last 1. but 4, for philosopher, read philosophy. 
 236. hue 16 and note ">, >r Xoyo^-- - - read Xoy^ 
 ^^°- "»^ 5 for ytvi<T6ai - - read ymcrQoi. 
 
 VOL. IL 
 
 p. 104. line 9 ----- -/or rerteux - - read vertueux. 
 
 ^•'•5- "°^e ' - >r V. 1658 - - rearf v. 1368. 
 
 181. -"«.-- j-^j. Xteizes - - rcarf Tzctzes. 
 
 f 19. line 9, word va^a^v\arriir6ai, word should be in italict. 
 307. note *>, last line - for xasa, . read va<ray. 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 WHOEVER recollects, that, in writing a 
 preface, he presumes, 4n some degree or 
 other, to call the attention of the pubhc more 
 particularly to himself, will hardly be disposed to 
 say more thau he thinks necessary, and will say 
 even that with some reluctance. To be allowed, 
 however, to explain his own design, in his own 
 defence, is a privilege which every writer may justly 
 claim ; and I am too sensible of the imperfection 
 of the following work to deliver it up in silent 
 confidence to the public judgment. 
 
 It may be said, I think, universally, of all 
 translation, that it should give the thoughts of the 
 original with all the accuracy possible, and the 
 language as closely as is consistent with the pur- 
 pose, which every man who writes must necessa- 
 rily have in view — that of being read with satis- 
 faction. No work can be read with satisfaction 
 if it is ill written ; and every translation is un- 
 doubtedly ill written, that does not, as far, at 
 
 least, 
 
X PREFACE, 
 
 least, as language is concerned, read like an 
 original ; that, on the contrary, to every reader 
 at once discovers itself to be translation, by that 
 constrained uncouthness of expression, harshness 
 of phrase, and embarrassment of meanintr 
 which necessarily result from the transfusion of 
 idiom out of one language into another. A 
 work so translated may be said to be translated 
 into broken English. For the effect is much the 
 same, whether we are imperfectly acquainted 
 with the language in which, or adhere too ser- 
 vilely to the language from which, we speak : 
 whether we write English in Greek, or Greek in 
 English. In both cases we write one language ' 
 in the idiom of another. 
 
 But in steering from this rock, the translator, 
 if he takes too wide a compass, will be in danger 
 of running upon another. It is singular, that 
 Pope, in one of his early letters, should have 
 pointed out, by a sensible and true observation, 
 the very defect, and perhaps the only general 
 delect, of his own Homer. In a letter to Mr. 
 Cromuell * he says, " Let the sense be ever so 
 '' exactly rendered, unless an author looks 
 
 LIKE HIMSELF, in his HABIT and MANNER, 
 
 " 'tis a disguise, and not a translation." Now, 
 let every other merit possible be allowed to 
 Pope s translation, it surely cannot be denied, 
 
 that * 
 
 I 
 
 ! Letter 34. 
 
 \t 
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 that we have there a manner^ a look^ a habit ^ very 
 widely different from that of Hotner himself. — But 
 poetical translation is attended with peculiar 
 difficulty, and demands peculiar indulgence. 
 The translator of prose into prose has far less 
 excuse, when he departs so widely from the words 
 of his author, as to retain no resemblance to his 
 manner ; and least of all, perhaps, would such 
 liberty be excusable in a version of Aristotle, in 
 whose writings, however perplexing on many 
 other accounts, a translator is seldom embarras- 
 sed by any of those delicate " blossoms of clo* 
 cution," which **drop off so easily" at his touch. 
 
 An English translator, it has been said, " is to 
 " exhibit his author's thoughts in such a dress of 
 *' diction as the author would have given them, 
 " had his language been English ^" An idea of 
 translation, to which nothing can be objected, 
 but the difficulty, I might perhaps have said, the 
 impossibility, of its practical application. The 
 rule, therefore, is not rule enough. It leaves 
 too much to the fancy and the prejudices of the 
 translator ; who will naturally imagine, that his 
 awn, . or his favourite, style, whatever it be, is 
 precisely that, which the author, had he written 
 English, would have preferred. Perhaps the 
 end of this rule cannot any way be more securely 
 answered in practice, tlian by the observance of 
 
 the 
 
 ^ Dr. Johnson's Life of Dryden, p, 125. 
 
*" PREFACE. 
 
 the rule I first mentioned— to depart no farther 
 from the expression of the original, than is fairly 
 required by the different genius of tbe two lan- 
 guages. 
 
 In saying what I think ought to be done by 
 every translator, I have of course said, not, I 
 fear, what I have done, but certainly what 1 have 
 endeavoured to do, myself My object, in fevr 
 words, was, to produce a version sufficiently 
 close and accurate to satisfy those readers who 
 are acquainted with the original, and, at the same 
 time, sufficiently English to be read without dis- 
 gust by those who are not.— Such a version, at 
 the time when I was induced to undertake the 
 task, was certainly among the desiderata of our 
 literature. We had then no English translation 
 that could be read with patience by any one 
 competently acquainted either with the Greek 
 language, or with his own. I know indeed of 
 but two attempts \ The one, published in 1 705, 
 a mere translation of Daciei s translation, notes,' 
 
 and 
 
 « Fabricius gives the following account of a transla. 
 tion by Rymer : - Jnglice, Rimero irterprete, cum Renati 
 *' Rapini Obscrvatiombus Pccticn, } Gallico in idem idioma 
 « translatis, Lend, 1674."-^;.^. G.^c, vol. ii p. 124.- 
 The best inquiries I have been able to make justify nie 
 in concluding this account to be a mistake, occasioned 
 by Rymer's translation of Rapines Reflections on Aris^ 
 totle\ Treatise of Poesie, dec. published in 1694, and to 
 which he prefixed hn famous critical Preface. 
 
 
 PREFACE, Kiu 
 
 and preface ; though professing, in the title-page, 
 to be translated from the original Greek, and 
 accompanied, indeed, by some marginal improve^ 
 merits from the Greek text, most of which, if 
 admitted into the version, would make it still 
 worse than it is. — The other is a translation 
 from the Greek, I know not by whom, published 
 in 1775. It may speak sufficiently for itself by 
 a few specimens, which, from among many others 
 of the same sort, I have given in the margin*^. 
 
 It would be doing injustice to the translation 
 lately given to the public by Mr. Pye, to place 
 it, in any view, however favourable, by the side 
 of these. A particular and critical examination 
 of its merits would come with little propriety 
 from me. So much, however, I may be allowed 
 to say, for it is an indisputable fact, that Mr. Pye's 
 translation and mine are frequently very differ- 
 ent ; and that, in many passages, if he is right, 
 I must confess myself to be wrong. 
 
 It is natural for me to wish, that I could se- 
 cure tlie indulgence of the reader, by giving him 
 
 some 
 
 ^ P. 3, and throughout, hh is rendered " morals.*' — 
 p. II, and 16, avroarxs^'iaa-fjuxra, ^* self -formed images"--^ 
 p. 31. TTpog fAiv th; ay ma; kou mv oidOno'iv — ** with regard 
 ** to t/ie Controversies and the Conception,*' — p. 57.aTExvo- 
 np» — " a degree neater art^ — p. 89. Ex« ^^ "^p^i '^^ 
 STreKTtiv^a-Qai ro fjaysd^ ttOj/ ri h. ETrowoua iiioi, — *^ Epic 
 '^ has muc/i peculiar for lengthening the greatness* — • 
 p. 92, aJwara im zlmrg^ — *' Impossibilities and Suitable,**. 
 
r 
 
 ^'' PREFACE, 
 
 some idea of the uncommon difficulties, with 
 which a translator of this work of Aristotle has 
 to struggle. But they are such as can hardly 
 be conceived, but by those who are well acquain- 
 ted with the original ; and even among tliem I 
 may venture to say, can be adequately conceived 
 by those only, who have tried their strenath 
 against them by actual experiment. These 
 difficulties arise from various sources: from the 
 elliptic conciseness, and other peculiarities, of 
 Aristotle's style, and from the nature of the work 
 Itself, which, in many parts of it at lea.t, seems ■ 
 to have been intended for little more than a col- 
 lection of hints, or short memorial notes, and has 
 sometimes almost the appearance of a syllabus 
 for lectures, or a table of contents'; so that we 
 might apply to it, in some degree, what Aristotle 
 bim^lf ,s said to have written to Alexander the 
 Oreat, who had reprimanded him for having 
 published some private lectures which that Prince 
 bad received from him : " They are published," 
 
 answered 
 
 ; -" He has a dry conciseness, that makes one 
 imagine one is perusing a table of contents, rather 
 « than a book."_Gray's Letters, Sect. 4. Le>. 3. The 
 account Mr. Gray there gives of Aristotle's writings, 
 Aough It .s written with the sportive pleasantry of a 
 famihar letter, is extremely just; except, perhaps, in one 
 obser^^t■on :-it seems hardly fair to conclude that Aris- i. 
 totle '■lmh-mu//,» wherever his r.W.« are »*;. at a 
 40S3 to find his iBcaning. 
 
 PREFACE. xr 
 
 answered the philosopher, *' and not published ; 
 " for they are intelligible only to those who have 
 *^ been my pupils ^" An answer, which does 
 indeed give some countenance to the assertion of 
 Ammonius, that the obscurity of Aristotle's style 
 was voluntary". Yet I hope the assertion is not 
 true. I cannot persuade myself to give full 
 credit to an account so degrading to a great phi- 
 losopher. Aild surely it is but a perverse kind 
 of apology, to assign, of all the causes of ob- 
 scurity that can be assigned, the only one which 
 leaves it totally without excuse. If, however, 
 this was really the case, it must be confessed, 
 that Aristotle succeeded well, and 'Stood in little 
 need of the admonition of the school-master 
 mentioned by Quintilian, *^ qui discipulos o3- 
 *' scurare quce dicerent juberet, Graeco verbo 
 " utens, IxoTio-oi* ^y — Another considerable 
 source of difficulty is, that so many of the 
 Tragedies and other poems, alluded to, and 
 
 quoted, 
 
 ' U^i «v o^rsff KAI EKAEAOMENOTS KAI MH 
 EKAEAOMENOT2 * ^weioi yap tm fMvoig roi; h/^uov outH-^ 
 aaa-iv, — See Aul. Gell. XX. 5. where the two letters,i 
 of Alexander and Aristode, are preserved. 
 
 * H6K?^X^ ''■f cwt^^iy fJi£)iov^ ["sc. TO ii^^ rav AfirortXag 
 
 y^sf^avr^ , oXX* 'EKOTSIHS t«to Tr^TroiYffKv. jimmon, ad 
 CaUg. Aristot. See also Fabric^ Bib, Grt^c, voL iv. p. 1 66. 
 
 • — a(Ta^£iaof lmrr\huai. 
 
 " Quiatil. Via. 2. 
 
 
\ 
 
 xvi PREFACE, 
 
 quoted, throughout the treatise, are lost.— But 
 the chief of these sources, undoubtedly, is the 
 mutilated and corrupt condition of the text. The 
 work is but a fragment :— n Jax®- l^ It^t^; Ixiy^ 
 
 Xi(iocg\ — I wish I could add, AAA' nVi? xaOa^>j Ti 
 
 XXI ax^aocvrf^ dvi^irH : but even of this fragment 
 it may be doubted, whether it has been most 
 injured by mutilation, or by repair. 1 he history 
 given by Strabo, of the fate of Aristotle's ' works 
 after his death, is so curious, and so eftectually 
 removes all wonder at the mangled state in which 
 we find them, that I shall here, for the sake of 
 the English reader, insert a translation of it. 
 
 ** The Socratic philosophers, Erastus and 
 *' Coriscus, were natives of Scej)sis ^ ; as was 
 " also Neleus, (the son of Coriscus,) who was 
 " a scholar of Aristotle and Theophrastus, and 
 '^ to whom the latter bequeathed his library, in 
 '^ which was included that of Aristotle. For 
 " Aristotle, who, as far as we know, was the 
 '' first collector of books, and the first who 
 taught the kings of Egypt to form and arrange 
 a library, left hif own collection of books, 
 '* (as he also did his school,) to Theophrastus ; 
 " and from Theophrastus it came to Neleus. 
 " Neleus removed it to Scepsis, and left it to 
 " his descendants ; who, being illiterate persons, 
 " threw the books together as lumber, and 
 
 " locked 
 
 i< 
 
 « 
 
 [ A city of Mysia. 
 
 xvu 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 •* locked them up : but afterwards, when they 
 ** heard, that the Attalic monarchs, their sove- 
 " reigns, were taking great pains to collect books 
 " for the Pergamenian library, they concealed 
 " them in a cave under ground ; whence, after 
 *' having been long damaged by damp and wonns *", 
 '** the books both of Aristotle and Theophrastus 
 " were, at length, sold by some of the family, at 
 " a great price, to Apellicon the Teian. This 
 " man was rather a lover of books, than a lover 
 ** of wisdom, or a Philosopher^; and being 
 '* therefore anxious to restore, at any rate, those 
 *^ parts of the manuscripts that had been des- 
 " troyed or damaged, he had them fairly copied; 
 ^* and, the vacuities in the writing beijig unskil- 
 " yw% supplied, they were thus published, full 
 " ofblutfders. The old Peripatetics, who suc- 
 ** ceeded Theophrastus, possessing none of these 
 ** writings, except a very few, and those chiefly 
 '' of the exoteric kind, were not (jualified to 
 " philosophize accurately, but contented tliem- 
 " selves with treating, in a shewy and superficial 
 *' manner, such particular questions as were pro- 
 " posed. The later Peripatetics, however, who 
 " lived after the publication of those books, were 
 *' enabled to teach the Aristotelic doctrines with 
 " more exactness ; yet even they, from the mul- 
 
 " titude 
 
 * *iXo^i^A^ fdO^^f h fiho(ro<f(^. — A very modem sort 
 of character. 
 
 VOL. 1. b 
 
«>^"i PREFACE. 
 
 '' titude of errors in their copies, were frequently 
 •• obliged to have recourse to explanations merely 
 *' conjectural . And these errors were much 
 '' increased at Rome. For immediately on the 
 *' death of Apellicon, Sylla, when he took 
 " Athens, possessed himself of his library, and 
 '' carried it to Rome ; where the books fell into 
 '' the hands of Tyrannio the Grammarian, a 
 *' great admirer of Aristotle, who procured them 
 " from the librarian ; and afterwards into those 
 " of certain booksellers, who employed careless 
 " and ignorant transcribers, and neglected to 
 " collate the copies with the originals ; which is 
 ^ also the case with many other books trans- 
 " cribed for sale, both at Rome and Alexan- 
 **driaV' 
 
 In the division of the t'anslation into Parts 
 and Sections, there was no authority to restrain 
 me from following my own ideas, and preferring 
 that method which appeared most conducive to 
 clearness.— By the marginal titles the conve- 
 nience of the reader is consulted : he has the 
 work, and its index, under his eye at the same 
 time.— The order of the chapters I have not 
 attempted to disturb. But if, on the one hand, 
 I cannot admit the unnecessary and licentious 
 transpositions of Heinsius, neither can I, on the 
 
 ^^^ • other, 
 
 ■ Strabo, lib. xiii. p. 6g8, D. ed. Casaub.— See also 
 Plutarch's life of SyUa, p. 8j6, ed, H. St. and Baylc, 
 
 art. TVRANNION. 
 
 PRE F A C 1. xix 
 
 tlher, assent to tliose commentators, who, like 
 Dacier, defend, on all occasions, the common 
 arrangement as authentic. If jJ^ey are right, we 
 
 '^ v^ ft 
 
 must suppose one of the most itfict and me- 
 thodical of philosophers to have been sometimes 
 almost as careless as old Montagne ; who, as 
 he tells us pleasantly, " rian)oit point d' autre 
 " sergent de batide a rajiger ses pieces que la 
 *' fortune.^ * 
 
 Every translation should be accompanied with 
 such explanations as are necessary to render it 
 intelligible to those readers who are supposed, 
 chiefly, to have recourse to translation ; those, 
 who are totally unacquainted with the language 
 of the original. This is the object of the short 
 notes under the version ; in which, however, I 
 have sometimes referred to the larger notes, 
 when they were such as would answer the same 
 purpose. 
 
 These last-mentioned Notes, 'A'hich follow the 
 Translation, and the two Dissertations prefixed 
 to it, (which indeed are but longer notes thrown 
 into that form,) I wish to be considered as the 
 principal part of my design. They form a full, 
 and nearly a continued, commentary. My pur- 
 pose was, to discuss all the difficulties of the 
 original^ of whatever kind : to remove, or at least, 
 to diminish them, where I could ; where I could 
 not, to state them fiirly, and to confess them — • 
 the easiest part, certainly, of a commentator's 
 
 b 2 . duty, 
 
 hf^^. ^.. ■ .-.i^:'^ 
 
5C3C PREFACE. 
 
 duty, though not perhaps, tha-, which b most 
 coniaionlv dischiin^ed. 
 
 As a great pa^t of these difficulties arise from 
 the obscurity or corruption of the Greek text, a 
 great part of my comment is, of course, takea 
 up by philological and verbal criticism. But 
 though my plan obliged me to submit to an em- 
 ployment which wit has disgraced by the name 
 of '^word-catching," I hope it will not be found 
 that I altogether ''Ike on syllables"." It is, 
 indeed, rather hard upon a commentator, that he 
 should be expected to " catch " the meaning of 
 his author, and, at the same time, reproached for 
 endeavouring to catch the words in which that 
 meaning is contained. But, in executing this 
 part of my task, I must confess myself to have, 
 indeed, an insatiable appetite for obscurity, if I 
 have discovered any desire of finding the text 
 more corrupt and mutilated than it is. Whei^ 
 I have indulged conjecture, I hope I have always 
 remembered that it is conjecture, and have nei- 
 ther insulted the reader, nor disgraced myself, 
 by the disgusting, though privileged, language of 
 emendatory criticism on antient authors. A 
 Lat'in commentator, indeed, may lay any wager^ 
 that his author wrote this, or that ; may assert his 
 emendation to be clearer than light itself y and 
 say to his reader, if you are not a blockhead, you 
 ^^ * will 
 
 " '* ii.ach word-catcher, that lives on syllables."— 
 Pope's Ep, lo Arbuthnot. 
 
 XXI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 will be of my opinion^ &c.— " Nobis non licet 
 *' esse tam disertis." 
 
 Thev, who think ariy interpretation better than 
 none, may perhaps wish, that I had not employed 
 so considerable a portion of my notes in merely 
 stating difficulties which had not l)een fully seen 
 or fairly acknowledged, without atten)pting to 
 remove them ; in combating interpretations 
 hitherto acquiesced in as satisfactory, and shewing, 
 that many passages, supposed to be sufficiently 
 understood, are yet to be explained. This is 
 certainly not that part of a commentator's duty, 
 which is most pleasant, either to his readers, or 
 himself; but it is surely a necessary and indis- 
 pensable part of it, and I have endeavonred to 
 discharge it faithfully. I hope I have no where 
 either made a difficulty to shew my sagacity, or 
 dissembled one to conceal the want of it. 
 
 We live in a delicate and fastidious age, in 
 which learning, even i^i books, is hardly released 
 from the iifcessity of observing, in some degree, 
 what Fontenelle calls " the exterior decencies of 
 " ig)wrance p." But, if pedantry be an unneces^ 
 sary^ unseasonable, and therefore ostentatious, 
 display of learning, I should hope, that the nature 
 of my work would sufficiently secure me against 
 
 that 
 
 ** *' Quovis pigiiore contenderini." — ''Luce meri- 
 " diana clarius.*'— *' Tii, si sapis, mecum repone.'*— 
 &c. &c. 
 
 • " Les bienseances extcrieures de Tignorance.'* 
 
 b3 
 
XXll 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 that charge. It mIU scarce be thou^^ht strange 
 that notes, intended to explain a Greek autho/ 
 and supposed, of course, to be addressed to (ircek 
 ; scholars, should abound uith Creek quotations. 
 One of my chief objects was, to illustrate Aristotle 
 ^vherever I could, from hirnseh; and from Plato' 
 to whose opinions and writings he continually 
 alludes. Another was, to relieve the dryness of 
 so much philological discussion by passages, 
 ^vhich, at the same time that they throw light upon 
 the author, might also be expected to afford some 
 pleasure to the reader, either as beautiful, or a^ 
 curious. With the same view, I have now and 
 then ventured to quit, for a moment, my direct 
 path; -to transgress Seneca's rule, '' Quo ducit 
 " materia sequendum est, non qu6 invitat^ and 
 to avail myself of some of those many openinag 
 ^hich Aristotle affords, into collateral, though imJ 
 irrelative inquiries. 
 
 The time is come, wheil we no longer read the 
 antients with our judgments shackli^ by deter- 
 mined admiration ; when even from the editor 
 and the commentator, it is no longer required as 
 an mdispensable duty, that he should sec nothincr 
 m his author but perfection. Ko apologv there- 
 fore, 1 trust, will' be required from me, for 
 speaking freely of the defects of this work of 
 Aristotle, even where those defects appear to be 
 his own. 
 
 It is necessary to mention, that many of my 
 
 ^ notes 
 
 PREFACE. , xxiii 
 
 notes were written, and of more the materials 
 were prepared, before I consulted, or indeed had 
 it in my power to consult, some of the earliest and 
 best commentators, whose works are too scarce 
 to be procured at the moment they are wanted.'^ 
 In perusing them I might often have adopted the 
 exclamation of the old Grammarian ^, *' Pereant^ 
 ** qui ante nos nostra dlrerunt T But ** every 
 " thing," says Epictetus, " has two handles;'* 
 and it required but little philosophy in this case, 
 to be more pleased with the support which my 
 opinions received from such coincidence, than 
 mortified by the mere circumstance of prior occu- 
 pation : a circumstance, which, after all, could 
 not deprive me of the property of my own 
 thoughts, though, as Dr. Johnson has observed 
 on a similar occasion', I certainly can pxrce that 
 property only to myself. — This coincidence, 
 wherever I found it, I have scrupulously pointed 
 
 out 
 
 How much subsequent commentators, and 
 Dacier in particular, have been obliged to the 
 labours of those learned, acute, and indefatigable 
 Italians, will perhaps sufficiently appear from tlie 
 use I have made of them, and the frequent ex- 
 tracts, which the scarceness of their books has 
 induced me to give from them in my notes. 
 
 This 
 
 « Donatus. 
 
 ' Prcf. to Shakspcarc, 
 
 b4 
 
«^> PREFACE. 
 
 This I must be allowed to say, that, in my 
 opinion, great injustice is done to their merits by 
 those editors, who not only neglect to avail them- 
 selves of their assistance, but atfect also to speak 
 of them with conteuipt. The truth is. that to 
 consult them is a work of considerable labour, 
 and requires no small degree of patience and re- 
 solution. The trouble we are unwilling to take, 
 we easily persuade ourselves to think not worth 
 taking; and plausible reasons are readily ^iven, 
 and as readily admitted, for neglecting, \ hat 
 those, to whom we make our apology, are, in 
 general, a^ httle disposed to take the pains of 
 examining as ourselves. And thus, " Ditficuitas 
 '' laborque discendi disertam negligentiam 
 
 " REDDIT V 
 
 In what I have here said, I allude, more par- 
 ticularly, to tlie commentaries of Castelvetro and 
 Beni^ Their prolixity, their scholastic and 
 ^_^ trifling 
 
 • Cic.deDivin.I.47. 
 
 • Pcetlca d^Arhtotele vulgarizxata e sposta per Lodovlc. 
 Castelvetrt, &c. BusU. 1576. 
 
 Pauli Bcml, Eugvbim, hz. In Arhtotelis Poeticam 
 Ummentam, &c. Fenet, 1624. 
 
 Castelvetro's oiricism is well characterized, and its 
 
 effect upon his reader well described, by Gravina : 
 
 ^^ E perche il Castelvetro, quantoc acuto e diligente, ed 
 
 amator del vero, tanto e difficile ed affannoso per 
 
 quelle scolastiche reti, chc agli aKri ed a se stcssi, 
 
 '' allora, 
 
 XXV 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 trifling subtilty, their useless tediousness of logical 
 analysis, their microscopic detection of difficulties 
 invisible to the naked eye of common sense, and 
 their waste of confutation upon objections made 
 only by themselves, and made on purpose to be 
 confuted — all this, it must be owned, is disgusting 
 and repulsive. It may sufficiently release a com- 
 mentator from the duty of reading their works 
 throughout, but not from that of examining and 
 consulting them : for in both these writers, but 
 more especially in Beni, there are many remarks 
 equally acute and solid ; many difficulties well 
 seen, clearly stated, and, sometimes, successfully 
 removed ; many things usefully illustrated, and 
 judiciously explained; and if their freedom of 
 censure is now and then disgraced by a little dis- 
 position to cavil, this becomes almost a virtue, 
 when compared with the servile and implicit ad- 
 miration of Dacier, who, as a fine writer has 
 observed, '* avoit fait voeu d'etre de I'avis 
 *' d'Aristote, soit qu'il I'entendit ou qu'il ne Ten- 
 " tenditpasV 
 
 Of 
 
 '* allora, i inaggiori ingegni tendeano j percio, per dis- 
 " petto spesso e per rahbia vien da' lettori abbandonato, 
 "" ed c da loio condannato, prima che intendano la sua 
 " ragione ; la <juale si rincrescono tirar fuori da quci 
 ** labirinti delle sue sottili c moleste distinzioni." Delia 
 Tragedia, p. 75. 
 
 ■ Maritiontel, Poetiquc Fran^oise, Pref. p. 6. 
 
«vi PREFACE. 
 
 Of the translations and commentaries UTitten 
 in the Itahan language there is one, which de- 
 serves particular notice, though, by what hard 
 fate I know not, it seenis scarce to have been 
 noticed at all : I mean that of Piccolomim \ 
 His version, though sometimes rather paraphras- 
 tical, is singularly exact ; and, on the whole, more 
 faithful to the sense, or at least to what / conceive 
 to be the sense, of Aristotle, than any other that 
 I have seen. In his commentary, he has nothing 
 of the Quixotism of Castelvctro and Beni. He 
 does not sally forth so eagerly to the relief of 
 distressed readers, as to create the distress for the 
 sake of shewing his prowess in surmounting it. 
 Some commentators appear to be really disap- 
 pointed, when they find any thing which they 
 cannot deny to be intelligible. Ticcolomini 
 fairly endeavoured to understand his author ; and, 
 which is no small praise, seems always to have 
 understood himself. His annotations, though 
 often prolix and diffused, are generally sensible, 
 and always clear. Tliey will sometimes tire the 
 reader, but seldom, I think, perplex liim. 
 
 ^'^ 
 
 ^ jfnnotationl di M. Jlessartdro Piccolomim, ml libro 
 dclla Poetica d'Aristoule ; con la traduttione del nudesims 
 libro in lingua volgan. In Finegla. l57S.~>-Piccolomini 
 was archbishop of Patras. See Baylc. He also wrote 
 Copiosissima Parafrase ml Retorica d'Jristouli. Vemt. 
 »5^5- A clear, exact, and useful work, tiiough prolix, 
 and an unpleasant mixture of traasiatign and comment, ' 
 
 XXVIl 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 With respect to the original work itself, it would 
 be superfluous to enter, here, into any discussion 
 of its merits and its defects. My ideas of both 
 will suflSciently appear in the course of my notes. 
 I must however reiDark one point of view, in 
 which the criticism of Aristotle has always par- 
 ticularly struck me, though it seems to have been 
 little noticed : And that is, that/nis philosophy, 
 austere and cold as it appears, has not encroached 
 upon his taste. He has not indeed expressed 
 that taste by mixing the language of admiration 
 witli that of philosophy in his investigation of 
 principles, but he has discovered it in those prin- 
 ciples themselves ; which, in many respects at ^ 
 least, are truly poetical principles, and such as 
 afford no countenance to that sort of criticism, 
 ^vhich requires the Poet to be " of reason all 
 compact." Aristotle, on the contrar)', every 
 where reminds him, that it is his business to re- 
 present, not what w, but what should be ; to look 
 beyond actual and common nature, to the ideal 
 model of perfection in his own mind. He sees 
 fully, what the ratiotiaHsts among modern critics 
 have not always seen, the power of popular 
 opinion and belief' upon poetical credibility *— that 
 '• a legend, a tale, a tradition, a rumour, a super- 
 " stiuon — in short, any thing, is enough to be the 
 
 " basis 
 
 * See the translation. Part IV. Sect. I, and the note 
 there : Sect. 3, and 6, 
 
xxviii . PREFACE. 
 
 " basis of the poet's air-formed mmis ^" He 
 ^ never loses sight of the e,u/ ot Poetry, which, in 
 contormity to common sense, he "held to' be 
 pleasure \ He is ready to excuse, not only im- 
 possibilities, but even absurdities, where that a>d 
 appears to be better answered with them, than it 
 would have been without them '. In a word, he 
 asserts the privileges of Poetry, and gives her free 
 range to employ her whole power, and to do all 
 she can do-that is, to impose upon the ima- 
 gination, by whatever means, as far as imagination 
 for the sake of its own pleasure, uill consent tJ 
 be imposed upon '^ Poetry can do no more than 
 ■ this, and, from it/ very nature and end, ought not 
 to be required to do less. If it is our interest to 
 be cheated, it is her duty to cheat us ^ The 
 cntic, who suffers his philosophy to reason away 
 his pleasure, is not much wiser than the child 
 who cuts open his drum, to see wliat it is within 
 that caused the sound. 
 
 The 
 
 ^ Letters on Chivalry and Romance, p. 300. 
 
 • This I have endeavoured to prove in Note 277 
 
 • Part IV. Sect. 2. and p. 184—6. 
 
 » I allude to- the ingenious saying oi Crgia., who 
 called Tragedy, " an impouthn, tolure they who cheat u, 
 "^ are hone,ter than they who do not cheat us, and they wha 
 " are cheated, wiser than they who are nof cheated."— Tw 
 
 elut. de aud. Poet. f. 26. td. H. S, 
 
 J 
 
 PREFACE. xxix 
 
 The English reader of Aristotle will, I hope, 
 do him (and, I may add, his translator,) so much 
 
 justice, as to recollect, when the improvements of 
 modern criticism occur to him, that he is reading 
 a book, which was written above two thousand 
 
 .years ago, and which, for the reasons already 
 given, can be considered as little more than the 
 fragment of a fragment. What would have been 
 the present state of poetical criticism, had Aristotle 
 never written, it is impossible to say : two facts, 
 however, are certain : that he was the first who 
 carried pKilosophical investigation into tliese re- 
 gions of imagination and fiction, and that the 
 ablest of his successors have not disdained to 
 pursue the path which he had opened to them, 
 and even, in many instances, to tread in his very 
 footsteps. It may therefore, possibly, be true, 
 that modern critics are, in some measure, indebted 
 to Aristotle himself for their very pretensions to 
 despise him. At least, the more we admire the 
 
 "^ skill of those, who have raised and finished the 
 structure, the more feason we have to respect the 
 Architect, who not only gave the plan, but, with 
 it, many specimens of masterly execution. / 
 - With respect to my own work, I have already 
 said all that I thought it necessary to say, by way 
 of explaining its design, and of apologizing for 
 such particulars in the execution of it, as mitxht 
 appear most liable to exception. To suppose it 
 free from imperfection and error, would be not 
 
 only 
 
 / 
 
 I 
 
«x PREFACE. 
 
 only to forget the nature of the work, but to for- 
 get myself. I commit it with the less anxiety to 
 the candour of the public, as I am confident, 
 (and it is the only confidence I allow myself to 
 feel,) that the time and the labour I have bestowed 
 upon it will, at least, acquit me of that disre- 
 spectful indifference to the public judgment, which 
 haste and negligence imply. It is now six years 
 since tlie translation was finished ; and both that, 
 and the dissertations and notes, have received 
 every advantage of revision and correction, which 
 either my own care, or friendly criticism, could 
 give them. And, upon this occasion, I cannot 
 refuse myself the gratification of publicly acknow- 
 ledging how much I owe to the accurate judgment 
 and just taste of one person % in particular, ia 
 whom I found precisely that friendly censor, so 
 happily and so comprehensively characterized by 
 the Poet as 
 
 *' Eager to praise, yet resolute to blame, 
 " Kind to his verse, but kinder to his fame * :" 
 —and of whom, indeed, I may say, without any 
 fear of indulging too far the partiality of friend- 
 ship, that he never shrinks from any task, whether 
 of private kindness, or more general benevolence, 
 tliat calls for his assistance, and stands in need of 
 his abilities. 
 
 * The Rev. Dr. Forster, of Colchester. 
 
 * Hay ley's Episde oa the death of Mr. Thornton; 
 
 [ XXXI ] 
 
 I T AK E the only opportunity now left me to 
 mention a book, which was very lately sent to me 
 by a friend, and which I have read with great 
 pleasure; — Dramaturgky <ni Observations cri- 
 tiques sur plusieurs pieces de TkSatrCy tant ancien^ 
 nes que modemes: [Paris 1785} — a translation 
 from the German of the late Mr. Lessing. The 
 notice taken of the original work in Mr. Win- 
 stanley's edition of Aristotle had, indeed, long 
 ago excited my curiosity ; but I am unacquainted 
 with the German language, and my inquiries 
 afforded me no reason to conclude that the work 
 had been translated. It contains many excellent 
 and uncommon things. Mr. Lessing appears to 
 me to have possessed, in no ordinary degree, that 
 combination of taste and philosophy — of strength 
 of feeling and strength of thought — upon wliich 
 good and original criticism depends. He had, it 
 seems, particularly applied himself to the study 
 of Aristotle's treatise on Poetry ; as indeed suffi- 
 ciently appears from several masterly discussions 
 of difficult and contested passages in that w^ork. 
 I cannot but regret, that he did not write a 
 regular commentary on the whole. From the 
 specimens he has given. I have no doubt, that it 
 would have been, in many respects, far superior 
 
 to 
 
[ xxxli ] 
 to any other work of the kind ; though, at the 
 same time, those specimens afford us reason to 
 conclude, that we should have found in it some 
 instances of refinement, upon Aristotle, at least, if 
 not upon the truth ; and that, like many other in- 
 genious men, he would, now and then, have trans- 
 ferred his own ingenuity to his author. Something 
 of tliis refinement, I think, there is in his ex- 
 planation of Aristotle's definition of Tragedy, and 
 of tlie purgation of the passions, tome 2. p, 6—35. 
 After considering, very attentively, that, and some 
 other explanations, in which he differs from me, 
 I have not yet found reason to alter my opinion. 
 But, had I seen this ingenious work in time, I 
 should certainly have paid every attention due to 
 the opinions of such a writer, by availing myself 
 of his support, where we agree, and by giving my 
 reasons, where we differ. 
 
 TWO 
 DISSERTATIONS. 
 
 ON POETRY CONSIDERED AS AN 
 IMITATIVE ART. 
 
 II. 
 
 ON THE DIFFERENT SENSES OF THE 
 
 WORD, IMITATIVE, 
 
 AS APPLIED TO MUSIC BY THE ANTIENTS, 
 
 AND BY THE MODERNS, 
 
 VOL. !• 
 
 S 
 
 % 
 
DISSERTATION I. 
 
 ON POETRY CONSIDERED AS AN 
 IMITATIVE ART. 
 
 m^^ 
 
 nr^HE word Imitation, like many others, is 
 -*- used, sometimes in a strict and proper sense, 
 and sometimes in a sense more or less extended 
 and improper. Its application to poetry is chiefly 
 of the latter kind. Its precise meaning, therefore, 
 when applied to poetry in general, is by no means 
 obvious. No one who has seen a picture is at any 
 loss to understand how painting is imitation. But 
 no man, I believe, ever heard or read, for the first 
 time, that poetry is imitation, without being con- 
 scious in some degree, of that *' confusion of 
 thought" which an ingenious writer complains 
 of having felt whenever he has attempted to 
 explain the imitative nature of MuSc*. It is easy 
 to see whence this confusion arises, if we consider 
 the process of the mind when words thus extended 
 from their proper significations are presented to 
 it We are told that " Poetry is an imitative art/' 
 
 In 
 
 • Dr, Beattie, Essay on Poetry, &c, ch. yi. § I. 
 
 B 2 
 
^ 
 
 4 DISSERTATION I. 
 
 In order to conceive how it is so, we natiirally 
 compare it with paintinc;, sculpture, and such arts 
 as are strictly and clearly imitative. But, in this 
 comparison, the difftrtnce is so much more obvious 
 and striking than the resaliblance--^^t see so much 
 more readily in what respects poetry is not pro- 
 perly imitation, than in what respects it w;— that 
 y the mind, at last, is left in that sort of perplexity 
 which m^st always arise from words thus loosely ^ 
 and analogically applied, when tiie analogy is not 
 sufBciently clear and obvious ; that is, when, of 
 that mixture of circumstances, like and unlike, 
 which constitutes analogy, the latter are the most 
 apparent. 
 
 In order to understand the following Treatise on 
 Poetry, in which imitation is considered as the very 
 essence of the art", it seems necessary to satisfy 
 ourselves, if possible, with respect to two points; 
 I. In wliat senses the word Imitation is, or may 
 be, applied to Poetry. 11. In what senses it wa$ 
 so applied by Aristotle. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE only circumstance, I think, common to 
 everything we denominate irnitation, whether pro« 
 perly or improperly, is resemblance, of some sort 
 or other. 
 
 In every imitation, strictly and properly so 
 ^^^*£i^^^^ ^^"l^i!^!^,^^"^ essential .-—the resem- 
 
 ^, blance 
 
 ^ See the Second part of this Dissertation. 
 
 On Poetfy considered as an Imitative Art. 5 
 
 blance^ must be immediate ; i. e. between the 
 imtation, or imitative work, itself^ and the object 
 imitated ; — and, it must also be obvious. Thus, 
 in sculpture, figure is represented by similar 
 figure ; in painting, colour and figure, by similar 
 colour and figure; in personal imitation, or 
 mimicry, voice and gesture, by similar voice and 
 gesture. In all these instances, the resemblance 
 is obvious ; we recognize the object imitated : and 
 it is, also, immediate ; it lies in the imitative work, 
 or energy, itself', or, in other words, in the very 
 materials, ox sensible media\ by which the imitation 
 is conveyed. All these copies, therefore, are called, 
 strictly and intelligibly, imitations. 
 
 1 . The materials of poetic imitation are words^ 
 These may be considered in two views ; as 
 sounds merely, and as sounds signijicant, or 
 arbitrary and conventional sig?2S of ideas. It is 
 evidently, in the Jii^st view only, that words can 
 bear any real resemblance to the things expressed; 
 and, accordinMy, that kind of imitation which 
 consists in the resemblance of words considered* 
 as mere sound, to the sounds and tnotimis ot the 
 objects imitated'', has usually been assigned a? the 
 only instance in which the term imitative is, in its 
 strict and proper sense, applicable to Poetry*. 
 
 But 
 
 « Sec Mr. Harris's Treatise on Music, &c. ch. i. 
 
 ^ Mr. Harris's Treaii>e, &c. ch. iii 
 
 * Mr. Harris.— Lord Kaims, Elements of Criticism, 
 
 vol. ii. p. I. 
 
 B 3 
 
 
 
 •-• V 
 
 c\; 
 
 1 1 -^ 
 
• "'SSERTATIONI. 
 
 But setting aside all that is the effect of fancy 
 and of accommodated pronunciation in the reader, 
 to which, I fear, many passages, repeatedly quoted 
 and admired as the happiest coincidences of sound 
 and sense, may be reduced'; setting this aside, 
 even in such words, and ^uch arrangements of 
 words, as are actually, in so.ne degree, analogous 
 m sound or motion to the thine signified or 
 described, the resemblance is so faint and distant, 
 and of so general and vague a nature, that it 
 would never, of Hstlf lead us to recognize the 
 object imitated. We discover not the likentss till 
 M-e know the meamng. The natural relation of 
 the word to the thing signified, is pointed out only 
 by us arbitrary or conventional relatiou^— I do 
 
 not 
 
 The reader may see this sufficiently proved by 
 L>r. Johnson in his Lives of the Poets, vol iv.p.,83 iv« 
 and .„ the Ranibler, N-ga. .. J„ such resemblances,"' 
 as he well observes, '< the mind often governs the 
 ear, and the sounds are estimated by their .neanine." 
 See also Lord Kaims, El. oi Crit. vol. ii. p. 84, 85. 
 
 « See Harris on Music, &c. cIi. iii. & ,, 2. This 
 verse of Virgil, 
 
 Stridenti miscrum stipuia disperdere carmen- 
 is commonly cited as an example of this sort of imitation. 
 I question, however, whether this line would have been 
 remarked by any one as particularly ha.sh, if a harsh 
 sound had not been described in u. At least, many 
 verses full as harshly constructed might, I believe, b^ 
 
 A 
 
 produced. 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art. 7 
 
 not here mean to deny that such resemblances, 
 however slight and delicate where they really are, 
 and however liable to be discovered by fancy 
 where they are not, are yet a source of real 
 
 beauties, 
 
 produced, in which no such imitation can be supposed. 
 But, even admitting that such imitation was here intended, 
 it seems to me ahnost ridiculous to talk of the " natural 
 " relation between the sound of this verse, and that of a 
 « vile hautboy r [Harris, in the chapter above referred to.] 
 All that can be said is, that the sounds arc, both of them, 
 harsh sounds ; but, certainly no one species of harsh 
 sound can well be more unlike another, than the sound 
 of a rough verse is to the tone of a bad hautboy, or, 
 indeed, of any other musical instrument. — That, in the 
 clearest and most acknowledged instances of such imitative 
 vocal sound, the resemblance is, or can possibly be, so 
 exact as to lead a person unacquainted with the language, 
 hy the sound alone y to the signification^ no man in his senses 
 would assert. Yet Dr. Beattie, in a note, p. 304, of his 
 Essay on Poetry, &c. by a mistake for which I am at a 
 loss to account, has ascribed so extravagant a notion to 
 Rousseau. ** There is in Tasso's Gierusalemme Liberata, 
 " a famous stanza, of which Rousseau says, that a good 
 «< ear and sincere heart are alone able to judge of //j" 
 meaning, as appears from wh^^t follows, of its sense ; for 
 he adds, ** The imitative harmony and the poetry are 
 " indeed admirable ; but I doubt whether a person who 
 «* understands neither Italian nor Latin^ could even guess at 
 " the meaning from the sound '^ There cap be no room 
 for doubt in this matter; — he certainly could not : nor 
 does Rousseau appear to have even hinted the possibility 
 of such a thing. The passage is in his admirable Letter 
 • B 4 ^«^ 
 
 • ( 
 
* . fSSERTATIONt." 
 
 beauties, of beauties actually fdt by the reader 
 when they arise, or appear to arise, spontaneously 
 from the poets feeling, and their effect Js not 
 counteracted by tlie obviousness of cool intention 
 and deliberate artifice \ Nor do I mean to object 
 
 to 
 
 Sur la Musique Franpht ; where, in order to obviate the 
 prejudices of those who regard the Italian language as 
 ^holly soft.and effemir^fe. he produces two stanzas of 
 i asso, the one as an example of a sweet and tender, the 
 other of a forcible and nervous, combination of sounds • 
 •nd he adds, that to judge oi thh, i. e. of the sound only, 
 nofthe seme, of the srarzas, and also of the impossibility 
 of rendarmg a.lcquately th<*^weetness of the one, or the 
 force of the bther. in the French language, «' it is not 
 necessary to understajid Italian-it is sufficient that we 
 " have an ear, and are.in:part;air—.< Que ceux qui 
 « pensent que Htalien n'est que le langage de la douceur 
 « et.de la ten<Iresse. prenp.cnt la peine de comparer entre 
 " elk, ces deux strophes <lu Tasse :_et s'ils desesperent 
 « de rendre en Frangois'la deuce harmonie dc Tune, qu'ils 
 " essayentd'exprjmerlara/j^^^wrrt/del'autre: il n'est 
 *' pas besoin pourjuger de ccci d'entendre la lancue, il ne 
 « faut qu- avoir dcs creillcs & de la bonne foi." 
 
 * I am persuaded ihatn^nyvery beautiful and striking 
 passages of this kiad in the best p„ets were solely f„„«, 
 
 i»n,, as ,t is well expr,»ed by Dion. Hal. n,^. cr^v^e^.^j, 
 § 20. But the Critic is always too ready to transfer his 
 own redaction to the Poet ; and to consider^ the ,/,m 
 Of art, all thpse jponianeous strokes of - 's -which 
 become the causes of art b, his calm ol. tion and 
 ^ discussion. 
 
 < 
 
 
 r 
 
 On Poetry comidered as an Imitattve Art. ^ 9 
 to this application of the word mitative. My 
 purpose is merely to shew, that when we call this 
 kind of resc^lanco, imitation, we do not use the 
 word in \\jFstrict sense— that, in which it is 
 
 - applied 
 
 discussioii. Scarce any poet has, I think, so many 
 beiuties of v this kind, fairly produced by strength of 
 imagination, and delicacy of ear, as Virgil. Yet there 
 are some verses frequendy cited as fine examples in this 
 -way, which appear to me too visibly artificial to be 
 
 pleasing : such as * 
 
 Quadrupedante putrem sonituquatit ungulacampum. 
 
 I am tempted to add to this note a passage from the first 
 dissertation prefixed to the iEneid by that excellent editor, 
 C. G. Heyne ;-4 man who has honourably distinguished 
 himself from the herd of commentators, by such a degree 
 of taste and philosophy as we do not often find united with 
 laborious and accurate erudition. Sneaking of the 
 charms of Virgil'si^ersihcation, he says, '' Illud uhum 
 " monebimus, in errorem inducere juvenilem animum 
 " videri eos qui nimii in eo sunt, ut ad rerum sonos et 
 *< jlaturas accommolair^s ci formatos velint esse versus. 
 " Equidem nt)n diffiteor sensum animi me refragantem 
 '*'' habere, quotiescunque pcrsuadere mihi volo, magnum 
 ** aliquem poetam aestu tantarum rerum abreptum et 
 *' magnorum phaiuasmatum vi inflammatum^ in ions 
 <* cwsus equestris vel tftbae vel aliarum rerum reddendo 
 « laborare ; attenuat ea res et deprimit ingenium poetae 
 « et arris dignitatem. Sunt tamen^ ais, tales versus in 
 /« optimo^poqu^-pocta. Recte; sunt utique muiti ; 
 etsi plurcs alios ad hoc lusus genus accommodare solet 
 corum ingenium qui talibus rebus indulgent. Sed mihi 
 
 *^ ad 
 
 4t 
 
 4 
 
lO 
 
 DISSERTATION I. 
 
 applied to a picture, or a statue. Of the tw« 
 conditions above mentioned, it wants that which 
 must be regaided as mobt essential. The resem- 
 blance is. indeed, real, as far cs it goes, and im- 
 mediate ; but, necessarily, from its generaluu, so 
 iniperlect, that even uhen pointed out by die seme 
 It IS by no means always obvious, and without that' 
 cannot possibly lead to any thing like a clear and 
 certain recognition of the particular object imi- 
 tated . 1 must observe farther, that this kind of 
 
 imitation, 
 
 ^ adpoetices indolcm propius esse vidctur statu ere, ;W;« 
 ^^ ora.on. naturam ita esse comparat^n,, ut multarum 
 ,^ '""""^ '°"°^ ^'^P^^"^^^ > inflainmatum autem phantas- 
 ^^ matum specie objecta animum, cum rerum species sibi 
 ^^ obversantes ut orationevhide exprimat laborat, necessarh 
 ^^ /« :sta vocabula incidere, vel oratlonh proprietate ducente. 
 ^^ Ita graves et celeres, lenes ac dufos sonos, .../ non id 
 ^ agem et curans, ad rerum naturam accommodabit ^ 
 
 et orator quisque bonus, et multo magis pocta." 
 [Heync's Virgil, vol. ii. p. 39.] # 
 
 [ The causes of this imperfection are accuratelr 
 pomted out by Mr. Harris ; i. The " natural sounds and 
 motions .hich Poetry thus imitates, are themselves 
 but /.... and indefinite accidents of those subjects to 
 which they belong, and consequently do but /cose/y 
 - and :ndejinite/y characterise them. 2. Poetic sounds 
 « and motions dobut>W^ resemble thgse of nature. 
 ^hich are t/^emse/ves confessed to be so imperfect and 
 " vaguer [Treatise on Music, &c. c/i. iii. 5 2. Sec 
 
 also 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, 1 1 
 
 imitation, even su|)posing it much more |)erfect, 
 is, by no means, that wliich would be likely first 
 to occur to any one, in an enquiry concerning the 
 nature of the imitation attributed to Poetry, were 
 it not, that tlie circumstance of its real and imrne* 
 diate resemblance, has occasioned its being con- 
 sidered, I think not justly, as the strictest sense 
 of the term so applied. 
 
 For the most usual, and the most important 
 senses, and even, as w ill perhaps appr ar, for the 
 strictest sense, in which Poetry has been, or may 
 
 be. 
 
 also ch. ii. § 3.] The following is a famous imitative 
 line of Boileau : 
 
 S'en va frappcr le mur, & revlent en roulant. 
 
 If this line were read to any one ignorant of the 
 language, he would be so far from guessing ivhat was 
 imitated, that it wowld not, I believe, occur to him that 
 anything was imitated at all ; unless, indeed, the idea 
 were forced upon his mind by the pronuntiation of the 
 reader. Now, suppose him -to understand French : — as 
 the circumstance of rolling is mentioned in the line, he 
 might possibly notice the etfect of the ktter R, and 
 think the poet intended to express the noise of something 
 that rolled. And this is all^the real resemblance that can 
 be discovered in this verse : a resemblance, and that too, 
 but distant and imperfect, in the sound of a letter to the 
 sound of rolling in general. For anything beyond this, 
 we must trust to our imagination, assisted by the com- 
 mentator, who assures us, that the poet ** a cherchc a 
 ** imiter par le son des mots, le bruit que fait UNE 
 " ASSi£TT£ en roulant.'* Sat,\\\, v, 216. 
 
tt 
 
 DtS SE RTATION I, 
 
 I 
 
 
 be, understood to imitate, we must have recourse 
 to language considered in its most i„,portant 
 point of vieiv, as composed, not of sounds merely 
 but of sounds significant. 
 
 2. The most general and extensive of these 
 senses, is that in which it is applied to de- 
 scR.PTroN, comprehending, not only that poetic 
 landscape-painting which is pccunarly called 
 descriptive Poetry, but ail such circumstantial 
 and distinct representation as conveys to the mind 
 a strong and clear idea of its object, whether 
 sensible or mental\ Poetry, i„ this view, is 
 
 naturally 
 
 
 " Nothing is more common than this application of 
 the word to description; though the writers who so 
 apply .t have not always explained the ground of the 
 apphcatton, or pointed out those precise properties of 
 descnption which entitle it to be considered as imitation. 
 Mr. Addison makes use oUescripiion as a general term, 
 comprehending all poetic imitation, or imitation by 
 language, as opposed lo that of painting, &c. Sec 
 Specmor N»4i6. 1. C. Scaliger. ihouuh he extended 
 wuiauon to speech in general, [see Part II. Note'.] 
 M not overlook the circumstances which render de- 
 scription peculiarly imitative. He says, with his usual 
 spirit, speaking of poetic or verbal imitation,—" At 
 " imitatio non uno modo ; quando nc ns quidein. Alia 
 " namqie est simpL-x dcs.gvatio^ ut, jE«eas pugnat : alia 
 •' modos ^M^t a circumstantms ; verbi gratia— cr«<,/«i, /« 
 « cquo, Ira-.us. J^m hic est pugnantis etian, faces, non 
 " solum actio. Ita adjuncts circumitantite, loci, affect^, 
 
 " tccasionis, 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art. 13 
 
 naturally considered as more or less imitative, in 
 proportion as it is capable of raising an ideal 
 i??iagc or picture, more or less resembling the 
 reality of things. The more distinct and vivid 
 the ideas are of which this picture is composed, 
 and the more closely they correspond to the actual 
 imprcmom received from nature, the stronger 
 will be the resemblance, and the more perfect 
 
 the imitation. 
 
 Hence it is evident that, of all description, 
 that of visible objects will be the most iuiitaiive, 
 the ideas of such objects being of all others, the 
 most distinct and vivid. That such description, 
 therefore, should have been called imitaliou, can 
 be no wonder ; and, indeed, of all the extended 
 or analogical applications of the word, this is,, 
 perhaps, the most obvious and natural ^ There 
 needs no other proof of this than the very 
 language in which we are naturally led to express 
 our admiration of this kind of poetry, and which 
 
 X 
 
 ♦ 
 
 we 
 
 «' occasionisj &c. pleniorem adhuc atque torosioretn effi- 
 •« Ciunt IMITATIONEM." [Poet. lib. Mil, cap. 2.'] Wc 
 must not, however, confound imitative description with 
 such description as is merely an enumeration o{ parts. 
 See wo/^f", Second part of this Dissertation. 
 
 * Ta h OI'EI yvwfi/ita, 3ta 'SJOinriKt); s^/u.miaf sf^pamrat 
 MIMHTIKUTEPON- biOVy xvfxaTuv c^^Fi5^ ^^ ToiroQsaiaty km 
 fiaxcch fuu 'SS£piTa7£i; nza^m' wrc o-vv^uzti^sjQm rag ^vx^ 
 
 Toii Hh<n Tuv cLTTciryi^i^yuv, as aparaENOis. Ptoi. 
 
 Harmon. 3. 3. 
 
 \ 
 
 1'» 
 
 ..-,=7«5;iS,»^',v,i*W^itl?Sii,r^«S*'l%'. . 
 
r - 
 
 '4 15 ISSERTATION I. 
 
 we perpetually borrow from the arts of strict 
 imitation. We say the poet has painted his 
 object ; we talk of his imagery, of the lively 
 colours of his description, and the masterly 
 touches of his peticil ™ 
 
 The 
 
 "It cannot be necessary to produce examples of this. 
 They are to be found in almost every page of every 
 writer on the subject of poetry. The reader may see 
 Dr. Kurd's Discourse on Poetical Imitation, p. lo, &b. 
 —Dr. Beattie's Essay on Poetry and Music, p 97,' 
 (Ed. 8vo.) and the note.—Dr. Warton on Pope, vol. 1!' 
 P't^\45; vol. ii. 223, 227.— Lord Kaims, Elem. of 
 Criticism, vol. ii. p. 326. 
 
 Nor is this manner of speaking peculiar to modern 
 writers, (pt^t «v, says ^lian, introducing his description 
 of the Vale of Tempe : nai ra na'K^^^a T.^t., t« 
 e£TTaAi*a, AIAFPA^XIMEN to, xoyo,, no, AIAIIAAX- 
 XIMEN. And he adds, as in justification of these ex- 
 pressions, i^-^rfvou ya^ xai Aoy^, kav ixn ^uvofxif 
 ippafijcnvy fx.nhv ourGmrEpov oa-a ^sArrox AEIKNTNAI rut 
 oyTpcv Twv xara x^^papytav ^Lvav, Hist. Far. lib, iii. cap, i. 
 Ilence, also, the saying of Simonides, so often repeated,* 
 that ** a picture is a silent poem, and a poem a speaking 
 " picture." Lucian, in that agreeable delineation of a 
 beautiful and accomplished woman, his EIKONEr, 
 ranks the descriptive poet with the painter and thJ 
 sculptor TOLurx fAiv «v nAASTHN mcu rPA^EHN ho, 
 nOIHTHN 's^^^si ipyacrovrat. Homer, he denominates, 
 rov a^'iroy TON FPAMON, « the best of painters ;" 
 and calls upon him, even in preference to Polygnotus, 
 ApeUes, and the most eminent artists, to paint the 
 
 charms 
 
 •( 
 
 l/AJUyi^^ 
 
 / 
 
 y 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art. 15 
 
 The objects of our other senses fall less within 
 the power of description, in . proportion as the 
 ideas of tliose objects are more simple, more 
 fleeting, and less distinct, than those of sight. 
 The description of such objects is, therefore, 
 called with less propriety imitation °. 
 
 Next to visible objects, sounds seem the most 
 capable of descriptive imitation. Sucii descrip- 
 tion is, indeed, generally aided by real, diough 
 imperfect, resemblance of verbal sound ; more, 
 or less, according to the nature of the language, 
 and the delicacy of the poet's ear. The following 
 lines of Virgil are, I think, an instance of this. 
 
 Lamentis gemituque et foemineo ululatu 
 Tecia fremunt, resonat magnis plangoribus aether. 
 
 Mn. iv. 663. 
 
 But we are not, now, considering this imme- 
 diate imitation of sound by sound, but such only 
 as is merely descriptive, and operates, like the 
 description of visible objects, only by the meaiiing 
 of tlie words. Now if we are allowed to call 
 description of visible objects, imitation, when it 
 
 is 
 
 charms of his Panthea. See also the treatise Flefi t»j; 
 OMHPOT 9ro<>icr£a)f, towards the end. (Et Je xai Zuy^oc^ux^ 
 Ji3acr»taXov O/loi^ 01/ ^oun ri^ — k. t. oXX. ) 
 
 ■ One obvious reason of this is, the want of that 
 natural association just Remarked, with paintings (the 
 most striking of the strictly imitative arts,) which is 
 peculiar to the description o( visible objects. 
 
'^ 1>ISSERTATI0NI, 
 
 is such that western to see the object, I know of 
 no reason why viem<iy not ai.>.o consider sounds 
 as imitated?, when they are so describ(>d that ne 
 seem to hear them. It would not he difficult to 
 produce from the best poets, and even from prose- 
 writers of a strong and poetical iuja^in^ition, uiany 
 instances of sound so imitated, l^hose readers 
 who are both poetical and musical will, I l>elieve, 
 excuse my dwelling a moment upon a subject 
 which has not, as far as I know, been much con- 
 sidered. 
 
 Of our own poets I do not recollect any who 
 have presented musical ideas with such feeling, ' 
 force, and reality of description, as Milton, at# 
 Mr. Mason. When Milton speaks of 
 
 - - - Notes with many a winding bout 
 Of linked sweetness long drawn out. 
 
 L^ Allegro. 
 
 And of—" a soft and solemn-breathing sound," 
 
 that 
 
 ♦ 
 
 Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes, 
 And stole upon the air. CoLus. 
 
 M^ho, 
 
 VQtfifMta. Treatise de Horn, Poes, loco cito. 
 
 9 Lucian, in his Imagines, just now cited, has very 
 happily described a fine female voice; and he calls the 
 description, somewhat boldly, xsc^^.mai *a< ^h^ ElKHN. 
 Tom, 11. ;». 13. Ed, Bened, lia^ ii toj/®- r« 0tyfjiar&'. 
 "'-ft. T. aK- ■ 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, 17 
 
 Who, that has a triily musical ear, will refuse 
 to consider such description as, in some sort, 
 imitative^? 
 
 In the same spirit both of Poetry and of 
 Music are these beautiful lines in Caractacus, 
 addressed by the Chorus to the Bards : 
 
 - - - Wond'rous men ! 
 Ye, whose skill'd fingers know how best to lead, 
 Through all the maze of sound, the wayward step 
 Of Harmony, recalling oft, and oft 
 Permitting her unbridled course to rush 
 Through dissonance to concord,, sweetest then 
 Ev'n when expected harshest. - - - 
 
 It seems scarce possible to convey with greater 
 clearness to the ear of imagination the effect of 
 an artful and well-conducted harmony ; of that 
 free and varied range of modulation, in which the 
 ear is ever wandering, yet never lost, and of that 
 masterly and bold intertexture of discord, which 
 leads the sense to pleasure, through paths that lie 
 close upon the very verge of pain. 
 
 The general ^nd confused effect of complex 
 and aggregated sound may be said to be de- 
 scribedy when the most striking and characteristic 
 of the single sounds of which it is compounded 
 are selected and enumerated; just as single 
 sounds are described (and they can be described 
 
 no 
 
 mt 
 
 ^ See also 11 Penseroso, i6i — 166, 
 VOL. I. C 
 
 ■,M^7S^mmms:^p^-r ■- ■ ^^.^tw,.. 
 

 '8 I>ISSERTATlONI. 
 
 no Otherwise) by tJ^e selection of tlieir principal 
 (jualities, or modificatiom.—l cannot produce a 
 finer example of this than tiie following admirable 
 passage of Dante, in which, with a force of re- 
 presentation peculiar to himself in such subjects, 
 he describes the mingled terrors of those distant 
 sounds that struck his ear as he entered tlie gates 
 of his imaginary Inferno ;— *^ si mise dentro alle 
 " segrete cose." — 
 
 Quivi sospiri, pianti, ed alti guai 
 Risonavan per Taer senza stelle ; 
 
 Diverse lingue, orribili favelle, 
 Parole di dolore, accenti d'ira, 
 Voci alte fioche, e suon di man con elle. 
 
 Ififernoy Canto iii. 
 
 The reader may be glad to relieve his imagi- 
 nation from the terrible ENAPFEIA of this de- 
 scription, by turning his ear to a far different 
 combination of sounds;— to the charming de- 
 scription of " the melodies of morn," in the 
 Minstrel\ or of the melodies of evening in the 
 Desalted Village : 
 
 Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close 
 Up yonder hill the village murmur rose. 
 There as I past with careless steps and slow, 
 The mingling notes came soften'd from below; 
 
 The 
 
 
 I Book I. Stanzas 40, 41. 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art. ig 
 
 The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung, 
 The sober herd that low'd to meet their young; 
 The noisy geese that gabbled o er the pool, 
 The playful children just let loose from school; 
 The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispVing 
 wind, [mind. 
 
 And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant 
 These all in soft confusion sought the shade. 
 And fiU'd each pause the nightingale had made'. 
 
 But 
 
 • The following Stanza of Spenser has been much 
 admired : 
 
 The joyous birdes, shrouded in cheareful shade. 
 Their notes unto the voice attemprcd sweet, 
 Th' angelical soft trembling voices made 
 To th' instruments divine, respondence meet ; 
 The silver-sounding instruments did meet 
 With the base murmur of the water's fall ; 
 The water*s fall with difference discreet 
 Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call ; 
 The gende warbling wind low answered to all. 
 
 Fairy Queen, Book ii. Canto 12, Stanza 71, 
 
 Dr. Warton says of these lines, that they *< are of 
 *' themselves a complete concert of the most delicious 
 ** music.*' It is unwillingly that I differ fr^m a person 
 of so much taste. I cannot consider as Music, much 
 less as ** delicious music," a mixture of incompatible 
 sounds, if I may so call thein— of sounds musical with 
 sounds unmusical. The singing of birds cannot possibly 
 be '* attempred " to the not^s of a human voice. The 
 
 c 2 . mixture 
 
20 
 
 DISSERTATION I. 
 
 But migk rounds may also be so described or 
 characterized as to produce a secondary per- 
 ception, of sufficient clearness to deserve the 
 name of imitation. It is thus that we hear the 
 '' far-off Curfeu" of Milton; 
 
 Over some wide-watefd shore 
 Swbging slow with sullen roar'. 
 
 And 
 
 mixture is, and must be, disagreeable. To a person 
 listening to a concert of voices and instruments, the in- 
 terraption of shging^ir^s, wind^ and waterfalls^ would 
 be little better than the torment of Hoganh's enraged 
 fnusician.—Farther-th^ description itself is, like too 
 many of Spenser's, coldly elaborate, and indiscriminately 
 mmute. Of the expressions, some are feeble and with- 
 out effect-as, ^'j^yom birds i" some evidently improper 
 —as, « trembling voices/' and *' cheareful shade ;" for 
 there cannot be a greater fault in a voice than to be 
 tremulous ; and cheareful is surely an unhappy epithet 
 applied to shade; some cold and laboured, and such as 
 betray too plainly the nccetslties of rhyme ; such is, 
 
 " The water's fall with difference discreetr 
 
 « The reader who conceives the word *' $wing\ng^^ 
 lo be merely descriptive of motion, will be far, I think, 
 from feeling the whole force of this passage. They who 
 are accustomed to attend to sounds, will, I believe, agree 
 with me> that the sound, in this case, is affected by the 
 motion, and that the swing of a bell is actually heard in its 
 ione^ which is different from what it would be if the same 
 beU were struck with the same force, but at rest. The 
 experiment may be easily made with a small hand-belJ. 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, 21 
 
 And Mr. Mason's '' Bell of Death," that 
 - — pauses now ; and now with rising knell 
 Flings to the hollow gale its sullen soand. 
 
 Elegy iii. 
 
 I do not know a happier descriptive line in 
 Homer than the following, in his simile of the 
 nightingale : 
 
 That which is peculiar in the singing of this 
 bird, the variety, richness, flexibility, and liquid 
 volubility of its notes, cannot well be more 
 strongly characterized, more audibly presented to 
 the mind, than by the sroXMnyjLot^y the ;)^£ii, and^ 
 above all, the 9a/xa r^unua-oiy of tb s short de- 
 scription"^. But, to return — 
 
 I men- 
 
 » Odyssey, T. 521. 1 am surprised at Ernestus'^ 
 interpretation of r^w^ua-a ; i. e. '* de luscinia inter 
 canendum se vcrsante -y* [Index to his Homer] by 
 which the greatest beauty of the description would be 
 lost ; and lost without necessity : for the natural con- 
 struction is that which Hesychius gives : Tfw^wcra — 
 Tf£9r8(ra THN OHNHN. 
 
 "^ Not a single beauty of this line is preserved in 
 Mr. Pope's translation. The x««> ''pours her voice," is 
 entirely dropt ; and the strong and rich expression, in 
 fiofxa T^uTTUiTay and -aroXz/TixEa, is diluted into ''varied 
 strains." [Book xfx. 607.] For the particular ideas of a 
 variety of quick turns and inflexions [^aixa T^uvma] and 
 a variety of tonesy [wo^wixfa] the translator has substituted 
 
 c 3 the 
 
2t 
 
 DISSERTATION I, 
 
 I mentioned also, description of mcNtal objects ; 
 of the emotions, passions, and other internal 
 movements and operations of the mind. Such 
 objects may be described, either^^-ZmmTiff^?^ as 
 they affect the mind, or through their e^rterml 
 and sensible effects. Let us take the passion of 
 Dido for an instance : 
 
 At regina gravi jamdudum saucia cura 
 Vulnus alit venis, et coeco carpitur itmi, &c. 
 
 jEneid iv. i. 
 
 This is iwwe^i^?/e description.— But when Dido 
 
 Incipit effari, medi^que in voce resistit ; 
 Nunc eadem, labente die, convivia quarit, 
 Iliacosque iterum, demens, audire labores 
 Exposcit, pendetque iterum narrantis ab ore. 
 Post, ubi digressi, lumenque obscura vicissim 
 Luna premit, suadentque cadentia sidera somoos, 
 Sola domo moeret vacud, stratisque relictis 
 Incubat - - . . 
 
 —here, the passion is described, and most exqui- 
 sitely, by its sensibkeffxcts. This, indeed, may 
 be considered as falling u^r the former kind of 
 descriptive 
 
 the general, and therefore weak idea, of variety in the 
 abstract— of a song or *' strains" simply varied. The 
 reader may see this subject— the importance of >^r//W^r 
 and determinate ideas to the force and beauty of dc- 
 A scription— admirably illustrated in the Discourse ^ 
 I'oaical Imitation. [Hurd's Horace, vol. iii. p. 15—19.] 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art. 23 
 
 descriptive(imitation^that of sensible objects. 
 There is this difference, however, between the 
 descriptioD of a sensible object, and the descrip- 
 tion of a meiital — of any passion for example — 
 through that of a sensible object, that, in tte 
 former, the description is considered as terminating 
 in the clear and distinct representation of the 
 sensible object, the landscape, the attitude, the 
 sound, &c. : whereas in the other, the sensible 
 exhibitition is only, or chiefly, the means of 
 effecting that which is the principal end of such 
 description— the emotion, of whatever kind, that 
 arises from a strong conception of the passion 
 itself. The image carries us on forcibly to the 
 feehog of its internal cause. When this first 
 effect is once produced, we may, indeed, return 
 from it to the calmer pleasure, of contemplating 
 the imagery itself with a painter's eye. 
 
 It is undoubtedly, this description of passions 
 and emotions, by their sensible effects, that prin- 
 cipally deserves the name ofjniitative; and it is 
 a great and fertile source of some of the highest 
 and most Jouching beauties of poetry ^J With 
 respect to immediate descriptions of this kind, 
 Ihey are from their very nature, far more weak 
 and indistinct, and do not, perhaps, often possess 
 that degree of forcible representation that amounts 
 
 to 
 
 y See the Discourse on Poetical Imitation, of Dr. 
 Hurd, p. 39, &C. 
 
 C 4 
 
H 
 
 DISSERTATION r. 
 
 to what we call imkative description.— But here 
 some distinctions seem necessary. In a strict 
 and philosophical view, a singk passion or 
 emotion does not adnut of description at all 
 Considered in itself, it is a simple internal feeling 
 and, as such, can no more be described, than a 
 simple Idea can be dejined. It can be described 
 no otherwise than in its efects, of sot,^ kind or 
 other. But the effects of a passion are of two 
 kinds, internal and esfernal. Now, popularly 
 speaking, by t/>e passion of love, for example 
 *e mean the whole operation of that passion 
 upon the m„d~,ye include all* its internal 
 workings; and when it is described in these 
 internal and invisible effects only, we consider 
 It as immediately described ; these internal effects 
 being included in our general idea of the passion 
 Mental objects, then, admit of immediate de- 
 scription, only when they are, more or less, com- 
 plex ; and such description may be considered 
 as more or less imitative, in proportion as its 
 impression on the mind approaches more or less 
 closely to the real impression of the passion or 
 
 en^otion itself. Thus, in the passage above 
 
 referred to as an instance of such immediate 
 description, the mental object described is a 
 . complex object-the passion of love, including 
 some of its internal effects; that is, some other 
 passions or feelings which it excites, or with which 
 it is accompanied ; 
 
 At 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, 25 
 
 At regina gravi jamdudum saucia ciir& 
 Vulnus alit venis, et coeco carpitur igni. 
 Multa viri virtus animo, multu^que recursat 
 Gentis honos : haerent infixi pectore vultus, 
 Verbaque : nee plaeidam niembris dat cura 
 quietem. ^n. iv. imtio. 
 
 Reduce this passage to the mere mention of 
 the passion itself- — the simple feeling or emotion 
 of love^ ill the precise and strict acceptation of 
 
 -II 
 
 the word, abstractedly from its concomitant 
 effects, it iSHl not even be description^ much less 
 imitative descnption. It will be mere attribution, 
 or predication. It will say only — *^ Dido was 
 in love." 
 
 Thus, again, a complication of different pas- 
 sions admits of forcible and imitative descri|Hion : 
 
 - - - aestuat ingens 
 Imo in corde pudor, mixtoque insania luctu, 
 Et furiis agitatus amor, et conscia virtus. 
 
 -/£«. xii. 666. 
 
 re, the mental object described is not any 
 ingle passion, but the complex passion, if I may 
 call it so, that results from the mixture and fer- 
 mentation of all the passions attributed to 
 Turnus. 
 
 To give one example more : — The mind of a 
 reader can hardly, I think, be flung into an ima- 
 ginary situation more closely resembling the real 
 
 situation 
 
 * 
 
26 
 
 DISSERTATION I. 
 
 \ 
 
 situation of a mind distressed by the complicated 
 movements of irresolute, fluctuating and anxious 
 deliberation, than it is by these lines of Virgil ; 
 
 - - - magno curarum fluctuat aestu ; 
 Atqueanimum nunc hue celerem, nuncdividitilluc, 
 In partesque rapit varias, perque omnia versat. 
 
 Mn, viii, iQ. 
 
 It may be necessary, also, for clearness, to 
 observe, that description, as applied to mental 
 objects, is sometimes used in a mo|e loose and im- 
 proper sense, and the Poet is said to describe, in 
 general, all the passions or manners which he, in 
 any way, exhibits ; whether, in the proper sense of 
 the word, described, or merely expressed ; as, for 
 example, in the lines quoted from the opening of 
 the fcurth book of the .Eneid, the passion of Dido 
 is described by the Poet. In these 
 
 Quis novus hie nostris successit sedibus hospes ? 
 Quern sese ore ferens !— quam forti pectore et 
 armis ! 
 
 —it is expressed by herself But is not Wm it 
 may be asked, still imitation f It is; but not 
 descriptive imitation. As expressive of passion, 
 it is no farther imitative, than as the passion ex- 
 pressed is imaginary, and makes a part of the 
 Voei\ Jict ion : otherwise, we must apply the word 
 imitative, as nobody ever thought of applying it, 
 to all cases in which we are made, by sympathy, 
 4 to 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, Zf 
 
 to feel strongly the passion of another expressed 
 by words. The passage is, indeed, also imitative 
 in another view — as dramatic. But for an expla- 
 nation of both these heads of imitatioiv, I must 
 refer to what follows.— I shall only add, for fear 
 of mistake, that there is also, in the second of 
 those lines, descriptive imitation ; but descriptive 
 of ^neas only ; not of Dido's passion, though it 
 strongly indicates that passion. — All I mean to 
 assert is, tliat those lines are not descriptive imi- 
 tation of a menial object. 
 
 So much, then, for the subject of descriptive 
 imitation, which has, perhaps, detained us too 
 long upon a single point of our general inquiry. 
 
 3. The word imitation is also, in a more par- 
 ticular, but well-known, sense, applied to Poetry 
 when consideied as fiction — to stories, actions,^ 
 incidents, and characters, as far as they eire feigned 
 or invented by the Poet in inutation, as we find it 
 commonly, and obviously enough, expressed, of 
 nature, of real life, of truth, in general, as opposed 
 to that individual reality of things which is the 
 fMiovince of the. historian \ Of this imitation the 
 epic and dramatic poems are the principal 
 
 examples. 
 
 That this sense of the term, as applied to 
 fiction, is entirely distinct firom thai in which it is 
 applied to description, will evidently appear from 
 
 tihe 
 
 « Mi^®-— A07^ +£«/5^ ElKONIZriN THN AAH- 
 ^SIAN. — Suidasy ^ Heiychius, voce Ui^^. 
 
*' DISSERTATION!, 
 
 the following considerations.— In descriptive imi- 
 tation, the resemblance is between the ideas raised, 
 and the actual impressions, whether external or 
 internal, received from the things themselves. In 
 Active imitation, the resemblance is, strictly 
 speaking, between the ideas raised, and other 
 ideas ; the ideas raised— the ideas of the Poem 
 —being no other than copies, resemblances, or, 
 more philosophically, new, though similar, com- 
 binations of that general stock of ideas, collected 
 from experience, observation, and reading, and 
 reposited in the Poet's mind.— In description, 
 imiiation is opposed to actual impression, external 
 or internal : in fiction, it is opposed to fact.-— 
 In their ej'ects, some degree of illusion is implied; 
 but the illusion is not of the same kind in both! 
 Descriptive imitation may be said to produce 
 illusive perception,— Active, illusive belief. 
 
 Farther— descriptive imitation may subsist 
 without fictive, and Active, without descriptive. 
 The first of these assertions is too obvious to 
 stand in need of proof The other may require 
 some explanation. It seems evident that fiction 
 may even subsist in mere narration, without any 
 degree of description, property so called ; much 
 more, without suck description as I have called 
 imitative ; that is, without any greater degree of 
 resemblance to the things expressed, than tliat 
 which is implied in all ideas, and produced by 
 all language, considered merely as intelligible. 
 
 Let 
 
 On Foetry considered as an Imitative Art, 29 
 
 Let a story be invented, and related in the 
 plakiest manner possible ; in short and ga|eral 
 expressions, amounting, in the incidents, to mere 
 assertion, and in the account of passions and 
 characters, as far as possible, to mere attribution : 
 this, as fiction, is still imitation, — an invented 
 resemblance of real life, or, if you please, of 
 history', — though without a single imitative de- 
 scription, a single picture, a single instance of 
 strong and visible colouring, throughout the whole *. 
 I mean, by this, only to shew the distinct and 
 independent senses in which imitation is applied 
 to description and to fiction, by shewing how 
 each species of iniitation may subsist without the 
 other : but, that fictive imitation, though it does 
 not, in any degree, depend on descriptive for its 
 existence, does, in a very great degree, depend 
 on it for its beauty, is too obvious to be called in 
 
 question \ 
 
 The 
 
 ■ ** Historise imitatio ad placitum." Bacon, De au^m. 
 Sclent, lib. ii. c. 13. 
 
 • The -^neid, in this view, is equally imitation in 
 every part where it is not, or is not supposed to be, 
 historically true ; even in the simplest and barest narra- 
 tion. In point of fiction, " tres littore cervos prospicit 
 crrantes," is as much imitation, though not as poetical, 
 as the fine description of the storm in the same book, or 
 of Dido's conflicting passions, in the fourth. 
 
 * Yet even here a distinction obviously suggests 
 itself. A work of fiction may be considered in two 
 
 views ; 
 
$0 BISSERTATIONI. 
 
 The two senses last mentioned of the word 
 imi^ive,, as applied to description, and to fiction, 
 are manifestly extended, or iniproper senses, as 
 M^ell as that first mentioned, in which it is applied 
 to language considered as mere sound. In all 
 these imitations, one of the essential conditions of 
 whatever is ^/Wc^/j/ so denominated is wanting; — 
 
 in 
 
 views ; in the whole, or in its parts : in the general 
 story, the Mu9^y fable, scries of events, &c. or, in the 
 detail and circumstances of the story, the account of such 
 places, persons, and things, as the fable necessarily 
 involves. Now, in the first view, nothing farther seems 
 requisite to make the fictive imitation good, than that the 
 events be, in themselves , important, interesting, and affect- 
 ing, and so connected :is to appear credible, probable, and 
 natural to the reader, and, by that means, to produce the 
 illusion, and give the pleasure, that is expected : — and 
 this purpose may be answered by mere narration. But 
 in the detail this is not the case. When the Poet pro- 
 ceeds to fill up and distend the outline of his general 
 plan by the exhibition of places, characters, or passions, 
 these also, as well as the events^ must appear probable 
 and natural : but, being more complex objects, they can 
 no othei wise be made to appear so than by some degree 
 of description, and that description will not be good de- 
 scription, that is, will not give the pleasure expected 
 from a work of imagination, unless it be imitative — 
 such as makes us see the place, feel the passion, enter 
 thoroughly into the character described. Here, iht fictive 
 imitation itself, cannot produce its proper effect, and 
 therefore cannot be considered as good, without die 
 assistance of descriptive. 
 
 i 
 
 On Poetry constd^mas a^imtlative Art, 31 
 
 in sonorous imitation, the resemblance \s immediate, 
 but not obvious ; in the others, it is obviouSy but 
 not immediate ; that is, it lies, not in the words 
 themselves, but in the ideas which they raise ais 
 signs'" : yet as the circumstance of obvious resem- 
 blance, which may be regarded as the most striking 
 and distinctive property of Imitation, is here found, 
 this extension of the word seems to have more 
 propriety than that in which it is applied to those 
 faint and evanescent resemblances which have, 
 not M'ithout reason, been called the echo of 
 • iBOund to sense **. 
 * 4. There seems to be but one view in which 
 Poetry can be considered as Imitation, in the 
 strict and proper sense of the m ord. If -^ e look 
 for both immediate and obvious resemblance, we 
 shall find it only in dramatic — or to use a more 
 general term — personative Poetry; that is, 
 all Poetry in which, whether essentially or occa- 
 sionally, the Poet personat^i* for here, speech 
 is imitated by speech^ The difference between^ 
 
 this,, 
 
 * See above, p. 5. 
 
 * Pope's Essay on Crit, 365.— Indeed, what Ovid says 
 of the nymph Echo [Met, iii. 35B.] may be applied to this 
 echo of imitative words and construction : — Nee prior 
 ipsa loqui didicit. The sense of the words must speak first, 
 
 * The drama, indeed, is said also to imitate action by 
 action ; but this is only In actual representation, where 
 the players are the immediate imitators. In the poem 
 
 itself 
 
 / 
 
M^ 
 
 f«l 
 
 3t in SSER TAT ION I. 
 
 this, and mere narration or description, is obvious. 
 When, in common discourse, we relate, ot describe, 
 in our own persons, we imitate in no other sense 
 than as we raise ideas which resemble the things 
 related or described. But when we speak as 
 another person, we become mimics, and not only 
 the ideas we convey, but the words, the discourse 
 itself, in which we convey them, are imitations ; 
 they resemble, or are supposed to resemble, those 
 of the person we represent. Now this is tlic case 
 not only with the Tragic and Comic Poet, but 
 also with the Epic Poet, and even the Historian, \ - 
 when either of these quits his own character, and 
 UTites a speech in the character of another person. 
 He is then an imitator, in as strict a sense as the 
 personal mimic— In dramatic, and all personative 
 Poetry, then, both the conditions of what is 
 properly denominated Imitation, are fulfilled. 
 
 f^ And now, the jgpstion— " in what senses the 
 -: word Imitation is, or may be applied to Poetry," — 
 , seems to have received its answer. It appears, 
 I think, that the term ought not to be extended 
 beyond \k\efour different applications which have 
 been mentioned; and that Poetry can be justly 
 considered as imitative, only by sound, by descrip- 
 , tion, by fctiqn, or by personation. Whenever 
 the 
 
 Itself nothing but words can be immediately copied. 
 Gravina says well, Non e im^a%mie poet'ica quella, che 
 non e fatta dalle paroU.~-[Pella Trag. sect. 13.] 
 
 ¥ 
 
 t 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, 33 
 
 the Poet speaks in his own person, and, at the 
 same time, does not either feign, or make '* the 
 sound an echo to the sense,'' or stay to impress 
 his ideas upon the fancy with some degree of that 
 force and distinctness which we call description, 
 he cannot, in any sense that I am aware of, be 
 said to imitate ; unless we extend imitation to 
 all speech — to every mode of expressing our 
 thoughts by words — merely because all words 
 are signs of ideas, and those ideas images of 
 things^ 
 
 It is scarce necessary to observe, that these 
 different species of imitation often run into, and 
 are mixed with, each other. They are, indeed, 
 more properly speaking, only so many distinct, 
 abstracted views, in which Poetry may be con- 
 sidered as imitating. It is seldom that any of 
 theni are to be found separately ; and in some 
 of them, others are necessarily implied. Thus, 
 dramatic imitation implies fiction, and sonorous 
 imitation, description ; though conversely, it is 
 plainly otherwise. Descriptive imitation is, ma- 
 nifestly, that which is most independent on all 
 the others. The passages in which they are all 
 united are frequent ; and those in which all are 
 excluded, are, in the best Poetry, very rare : for 
 the Poet of genius rarely forgets his proper Ian* 
 
 guage ; 
 
 ' See Hermes, Book iii. ch, 3, p. 329, &c. And Part II. 
 of this Diss, note^ 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
I 
 
 34 DISSERT AT I O N I. 
 
 guage ; and that cart scarcely be retained, af least 
 while he relates^ without more or less of colouring, 
 of imagery, of that descriptive force which makes 
 us see and hear. A total suspension of all his 
 functions ds an imitator is hardly to be found, 
 but in the simple proposal of his subject^, in hi^ 
 invocation^ the e^ipression of his own sentimtntsV 
 or, in those calm beginnings of narration where, 
 now and thett, the Poet stoops to fact, antf 
 becomes, for a moment, little more than a metrical 
 historian''. 
 
 The full illustration of all this by examjf)les, 
 would draw otit to greater length a discussiofif, 
 which the reader, I fear, has already thought too 
 long. If he will open the iEneid, of any other 
 epic poem, and apply these remarks, he may,- 
 jfjerhaps, find it amusing to trace the different 
 kinds of imitation as they successively occur, iri 
 their various combinations and de^r^es : and to 
 observe the Poet varying, from page to page, and 
 
 sometimes 
 
 « Arma virumque cano, Trojae qui primus ab oris 
 Italiam, fato profugus, Lavinaque venit 
 
 ^ Musa, mihi causas memora, &c. Ibid, 
 
 * Tantacne animis caelestibus irae ? 
 
 Tantae molis eratRomanam condere gentem. Jbtd. 
 *^ Urbs antiqua fuit, (Tyrii tcriuere coloni,) 
 Carthago, Italiam contra, Tiberinaque longc 
 Ostia, &c. Jhid, 
 
 M 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art. 3^ 
 
 sometimes even from line to line, the quantity, if 
 J may so speak, of his imitation ; sometimes 
 shifting, and sometimes, though rarely and for a 
 moment, throwing oft' altogether, his imitative 
 form. 
 
 It has been often said that all Poetry is 
 ImitatiorL But from the preceding inquiry it 
 appears, that, if vve take Poetry in its common 
 acceptation, for all metrical composiiion^ the 
 assertion is not true ; not, at least, in any sense 
 of the term Imitation but such as will make it 
 equally true of all Speech"". If, on ll>e other 
 band, we depart from that common acceptation of 
 the word Poetry y the assertion that ** all Poetry 
 is Imitation," seems only an improper and con- 
 fused way of saying, that no composition that is 
 
 • 
 
 not imitative ought to be called Poetry. To 
 examine the truth cf this, would be to engage in 
 a fresh discussion totally distinct from the object 
 of this dissertation. We have not, now, been 
 considering what Poetry is, or how it should be 
 
 dejined ; 
 
 ' This expression is nowhere, that I know of, used by 
 Aristotle. In the beginning of his treatise he asserts 
 only that^the Epic, Tragic, Comic, and Dithyramhcc Poems 
 are imitations. Le Bossu, not content with saying that 
 " every sort of Poem in general is an Imitation,'* goes so 
 far as even to alter the text of Aristotle in his marginal 
 quotation. He makes him say, nOIH2EI2 'aojcu 
 Tvyxf*''^^^^ s^iaM (M(A.'n(TU(i to (TvvoXov* 
 
 * See p. 33, note ^ 
 
 D2 
 
V 
 
 36 DISSERTATION!. 
 
 defined ; but only, in what sense it is an ImUati'oe 
 Art: cr, rather, we have been examining the 
 nature and extent of verbal imitation in 
 generdl". 
 
 II. 
 
 THE preceding general inquiry, " in what 
 ** senses the word Imitation is, or may be, applied 
 ^ to Poetry," brings us with some advantage to 
 the other question proposed, of more immediate 
 concern to the reader of this treatise of Aristotle, — 
 ** in what senses it was so applied by him." 
 
 1. It is clearly so applied by him in the sense 
 which, from him, has, I think, most generally 
 been adopted by modern writers — that of fiction, 
 as above explained*, whether conveyed in the 
 dramatic or personative form, or by mere nar- 
 ration in the person of the Poet himself \ Thie 
 appears from the whole sixth section of Part II. 
 oi the original, ch. ix.] but especially from the 
 
 last 
 
 ° Imitation, in every sense of the word that has been 
 mentioned, is manifestly independent on meire, though 
 being more eminently adapted to the nature and end of 
 metrical composition, it has thence been peculiarly deno- 
 minated Poetic imitation, and attiibuted to the Poetic jirt» 
 
 » P. 27. 
 
 ^ fjuixiKTOcu Inv a.{ TON ATTON hoi MH META- 
 
 BAAAONTA. cap. 3. " The Poet may imitate, &c. — 
 or, in his own person throughout, without change" Part I. 
 Sect. 4* 
 
 , On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, ^7 
 
 lastparagi'aph, where he expressly says, that 
 
 what cons titutes the Poef an imitator ^ ^^t^e 
 
 invention of a Table : 7irot«T»)k /xaAXov THN 
 
 MT0nN i\ya,i ^« nOIHTHN htr^ isrw>iTUf 
 
 KATA MIMH2IN Ui' [M^iAetTOLt h TAS nPAHEI2 ^ 
 He repeatedly calls the fable, or Mu6^, ''„an^ 
 imitation o jijiri action ; '' but tliis it can be in no 
 other sense than as it is feigned, either entirely, 
 or in part. A historj^, as far, at least, as it is 
 strictly history, is not an imitation of an action. 
 2. It seems equally clear, that he considered 
 
 WW K "' NtlW ^»* .-Mi W >*' 
 
 dramatic l^oetry as peculiarly imitative, above 
 every other species. Hence his j^r^^ rule concern- 
 ing the epic or narrative imitation, ihat its fable 
 "Should be dramatically constructed, like that of 
 
 tragedy ^ : '' — T«f jw-ufla^, xaOaTrtp tv Txtg T^ayw^iai^, 
 
 APAMATIKOrr : — his praise of Homer for ** the 
 dramatic spirit of his imitations : " — ort xoci 
 M1MH2EI2 APAMATIKA2 Wo«»j<rf': and above 
 all, the remarkable expression he uses, where, 
 having laid it down as a precept that the epic 
 Poet *' should speak as little as possible in his 
 
 own person," {ATTOlSi $h toi^ -zirotiiTTii/ £X»;^ira Afy«vJ" 
 
 he gives this reason — OT yx^ Wi kxtoc. rxr^rx 
 MIMHTHS : " for he is pot then the 1M1TAT0R^'' 
 
 But, 
 
 *= See Mr. Harris, PhiloL Inq, p. 139. 
 *■ Part III. Sect. i. Of the orig. ch. xxiii. 
 * Part [. Sect. 6. Orig. cap. iv. 
 ^ Part III. Sect. 3, Orig. cap. xxiv. 
 
38 
 
 DISSERTATION I. 
 
 I j 'But, he had before expressly allowed the Poet to 
 •be an imitator even whi^ he retains his own 
 'person^. J see no other way of removing this 
 apparent inconsistence, than by supposing him to 
 speak comparatfvely, and to mean no more, than 
 that the Poet is not then truly and strictly zn 
 imitator** ; or, in other words, that imitation is 
 applicable in its strict ^^nA proper sense, only to 
 personative poetry, as above explained; to that 
 Poetry in which speech is represented by speech, 
 and the resemblance, as in painting and sculpture, 
 is immediate. I am not conscious that I am 
 here forcing ypon Aristotle a meaning that may 
 
 not 
 
 5 See above, note**. 
 
 ** So Victorius : '' amittit pene eo tempore nomen 
 Poetac." Castelvetro's solution of this difficuhy is the 
 saaie ; and I find his ideas of this matter so coincident 
 with my own, that I am induced to transcribe his words : 
 In his comment upon the passage, he says, speaking of 
 the dramatic part of epic poetry, " Si domanda qui 
 " solo rassomigliativo, (i. e. imitative) non perche ancora 
 " quando il Poeta narra scnza introducimento di persone 
 '* a favellare, non rassomigli, ma perche le parole diriite 
 ** poste in luogo di parole diritie^ figuranoy rappr^sentanoy 
 ** e rassomigliano MEGLio le parole^ che le parole poste in 
 ** luogo di cosE non figurano, non rappresentano, non 
 rassomigliano le cose ; in guisa che, in ccrto modo si puo 
 dire che il rappresentare parole con parole sia rasso* 
 " migliaie ; e il rappresentare cose con parole non sia 
 ** Ti'%^om\^\dirQ, paragonando Punrassomigliarc conP^ltro^ 
 " & non semplicemcnte,^^ p. 554. 
 
 i( 
 
 (( 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art. 39 
 
 nqt.be hi^. ^ s^eip to be qnly drawing a clear 
 inferepqe .from a clear fact. It cannot be denied, 
 ,tl^at, in t^ie^pa^.sage^,, alleged, he plainly speaks of 
 j)ei:sonative Poetry as th^t which peculiarly 
 ^4esei;ye3 the iiapie of imitatipn. The inference 
 ^eems obvious—that he speaks of it as peculiarly 
 ■ifpitative, in the only ^ense in which it is so, as 
 beipg the only species of Poetry that is strictly 
 imitative. 
 
 I ^o nqt find in Aristotle any express appli- 
 ^catjon of the term, except these two. Of tlje 
 ^OtJ^er two ,^enses in which Poetry may be, and 
 ^by modern writers has been, considered as imi- 
 ' J,ation — resemblance of sou?id, and description — 
 4je.say.s nothing. 
 
 ,Witli respect, indeed, to the former of these, 
 sonorous imitation, it cannot appear in any degree 
 surprising that he should pass it over in total 
 isilencd: I have already observed, that even in 
 a general inquiiy concerning the nature of the 
 imitation attributed to Poetry, it is by no meaiis 
 that sense of the word which would be likely first 
 ,tp .occur; ^and it would, perhaps, never have 
 occurred at all, if, in such inquiries, we were not 
 naturally led to compare Poetry with Painting, 
 and other arts strictly imitative', and as naturally 
 led by that comparison to admit soiiorous imi- 
 station as one species, from its agreement with those 
 
 strictly 
 
 * See above, p. 4, 
 i>4 
 
40 
 
 DISSERTATIONI. 
 
 ( 
 
 Strictly imitative arts in the circumstance of imme- 
 diate resemblance.. But no such general inquiry 
 ^was the object of Aristotle's work, which is not 
 a treatise on Poetic Imitation, but on Poetry. 
 His subject, therefore, led him to consider, not 
 fl//that might v;\i\\Qni impropriety be denominated 
 imitation in Poetry, but that imitation only which 
 I he regarded as essential to the art ; as the source 
 I of its greatest beauties, and the foundation of its 
 \most important rules. With respect, then, to 
 that casual and subordinate kind of imitation 
 which is produced merely by the sound of words, 
 it was not likely even that the idea of it should 
 occur to him. Indeed, it is to be considered as 
 a property of language in general, rather than 
 of Poetry ; and of speech—of actual pronuncia- 
 tion—rather than of language^ Besides that the 
 beauties arising from this source are of too deli- 
 cate and fugitive a nature to be held by rule. 
 They must be left to the ear of the reader for 
 their effect, and ought to be left to that of the 
 Poet for their production. 
 
 But neither does Aristotle appe^ to have in- 
 cluded description in his notion of Poetic imi- 
 tation ; which, as far as he has ex[)lained it, seems 
 to have been simply that of the imitation of 
 human actions, manners, passions, events, &c. in 
 feigned story ; and that, principally, when con- 
 veyed 
 
 ^ See above, p. 5. 
 
 n 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative jfrt, 41 
 
 veyed in a dramatic form. Of description, in- 
 deed, important as it is to the beauty of Poetry 
 in general, and to that of fiction itself, more par- 
 ticularly in the epic form, he has not said one 
 word throughout his treatise : so far was he from 
 extending Poetic imitation, as some have done, 
 to that general sense which comprehends all 
 speech^ 
 
 But here, to avoid confusion, the sense in 
 which I have used the term description must be 
 kept in A^ When it is said that Aristotle ->. 
 " did not mclude description in his notion of 
 " imitation," it is not meant, that he did not con- 
 sider the descriptive parts of narrative Poetry as 
 in any respect imitative. The subject of a de- 
 scription may be either real, or feigned. Almost 
 all the descriptions of the higher Poetry, the 
 
 Poetry 
 > ■ ■ ' 
 
 * Thus I. C. Scaliger, Poet, lib, vii. cap, 2. " Deni- 
 " que imitationem esse in OMNI sermone, quia verba sunt 
 ./** imagines rerumJ^ He is followed by Is. Casaubon; 
 De Rom, Satirdf cap. v. p. 340. Both these acute 
 critics dispute warmly against Aristotle's principle, that 
 the essence of Poetry is imitation. And they are, un- 
 doubtedly, so far in the right, that //i as they contend, the 
 only proper sense of Poetry is that in which it is opposed 
 to prose {*' omnem metro astrictam orationem et posse et 
 «* debere Poema dici." Cas, ubi sup.) then, there can be 
 no other imitation common to all Poetry^ than that which 
 is common to all speech. See above, p. 32, 33. 
 
 ■■* 
 
4^ ^JS SXRTAi'I,ON I. 
 
 J?oetiy qf .invention, ^re of the latter kind. 
 
 These ilristotie, unques^ione^t^ly,^, considered /^ 
 
 wit^tioQ ; .byt/it >v^s (isjiction, not as description ; 
 
 .•n-ras fels^hood resembling truth, ,or nat^ce, in 
 
 .^ei)er^I, jigt as verbal .expression veseaibjing, by 
 
 4ts .force ^nd. clearness, the .visible 4;^pre$ent^tions 
 
 ,Qf painting, or. the perception of the thingjtself. 
 
 Had he considered description in this sen§e as 
 
 jmitatign, be must necessarily have admitted 
 
 ^ynit^tion .yvithout fiction'". But this ^eems clearly 
 
 contrary 
 
 *" It is obvious, that, if the imitation attributed to de- 
 scription consists in the clear and distinct image of the 
 .object described, every description conveying such an 
 image to the mind must be equally considered as imitative, 
 .whether tli^t object be real, or imaginary ; that is, 
 ,3vhether the imitation be of individual, or general nature ; 
 just as in painting, a portrait, or a landscape from nature, 
 is as much imitation, as an historical figure, or an ideal 
 scene of Claude Lorrain, though certainly of an inferior 
 vkind. IiKleed, that which presents a real, sensible, and 
 precise object ef coiHparison, may even he said to be 
 more obviously and properly imitatiany than that wJiich 
 refers us, for its original, to a vague and general idea.r- 
 Jtmay he objected, that this jv ill extend imitation to sll 
 ^xact description ; and it maybe asked, whether every 
 %iuch description of a building, or of a machine, for 
 •instjance, is to be called an imitation ? I answer, that 
 descriptions may be too exact to be imitative ; too detailed 
 and minute to present the luhole strongly, as a picture. 
 Technical descriptions are such. They may be said to 
 '4 describe 
 
 On Poetry considered asMn Imitative Art, 43 
 
 xontrary to -the whole tenor .of his treatise. Ibe 
 beauty, indeed, of such description was wall 
 rknown to the antients, and frequent examples of 
 it are to be found in their best Avriters— tboir 
 orators and historians, as well as Poets; and, 
 
 particularly, 
 
 describe ^^ry /)^r/ without describing iht whole. To 
 igive a complete idea of all the pMrts, for the merc^purpose 
 of information, and to give .a strong and vivid general 
 i^a in order to please the imagiaation,.are very different 
 things. It is by selection^ not by enumeration^ that the 
 latter purpose is to be effFected. [«See Dr. Beattie!s jE«<?y 
 on Poetry and Musicy Part I. ch. v. sect. 4.] — I believe it 
 will be found, on examination, that. every description, 
 whatever be its purpose, or its subject, which does 
 actually convey such a lively and distinct idea of the 
 whole of any object, affords some degree of pleasure to 
 the imagination, and is, so far, imitative ; but whether 
 it affords such a degree of that pleasure, or ^whether it 
 be such in other respects, as to amount, on the whole, 
 to what may properly be called Pcetical imitation, is 
 another question. I must again remind the reader, that 
 the object of this Dissertation is to inquire in what 
 senses the word imitation is applied to language in general 
 — not to examine all the requisites of such imitation as 
 deserves the name of poetry. Though it has been 
 said that all Poetry is imitation, it has never, I think, 
 
 been said that all imitation is Poetry -See above, 
 
 p. 28 & 29, and note *. 
 
 What I said above, of the difference between the 
 desctipuoa of all the parts or circwnstances, and the 
 
 dfiScriptiPH 
 
44 
 
 DISSERTATION I, 
 
 particularly, in Homer •. But there is one par- 
 ticular kind of description that may be said to 
 be, in a great measure at least, peculiar to modem 
 X times ; I mean that which answers to landscape 
 in painting, and of which the subject is, pros- 
 pects, views, rural scenery, &c. considered merely 
 
 as 
 
 / 
 
 description of the tuAo/e by the selection of those parts 
 or circumstances which are most striking, and charac- 
 teristic of the thing described, may be illustrated by a 
 single description of a machine, in Virgil : I mean the 
 description of a fUugh, in his Georgics. 
 
 Continuo in sylvis magna yxflexa domatur 
 In burlm , & c u r v i formam accipit ulmus a R a T R i . 
 Huic ab stirpc pedes temo protentus in octo, 
 Binae "aures, duplici aptantur dcntalia dorso. 
 Caeditur & tilia ante jugo levis, altaque fagus, 
 Stivaque, quae currus a tcrgo torqueat imos, &c. 
 
 I believe every reader will agree with me that the 
 second line of this description conveys, alone, a clearer 
 picture of a plough to the imagination, than all that fol- 
 lows; which indeed diiFers little, if we except the metre ^ 
 from a mere technical description in a dictionary of 
 arts. 
 
 * Indeed, the very existence of an appropriated term, 
 fva^rno, to denote the clearness and visibility of descrip- 
 tion, would alone furnish a suflBcient proof of this, 
 though every work in which it was exemplified had 
 been lost. 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, 45 
 
 as pictures — as beautiful objects to the ej/ef. 
 As the truth of this observation may noi|be 
 
 readily 
 
 t Descriptions of rural objects in the antient v^riters, 
 are almost always, what may be called sensual descrip- 
 tions. They describe them not as beautiful, but as 
 pleasant ; — as pleasures, not of the imagination, but of 
 the external senses. Of this kind is the description of a 
 Sicilian scene in the 7th Pastoral of Theocritus, from 
 ▼er. 131 to 146. — Refreshing shades, cool fountains, the 
 singing of birds, sweet smells, boughs laden with fruit, 
 the hum of bees, &c. — all this is charming, but it is not 
 2i landscape. [See Dr.Warton's Essay on Pope^ vol. i. 
 p. 4.] Nor does Virgil paint a landscape, though his 
 reader may paint one for himself, when he exclaims, 
 
 O qui me gelidis in vallibus Haemi 
 
 Sistat, & ingenti ramorum protegat umbra. 
 Of the same kind is the famous description, in the 
 Phadrus of Plato, of that spot on the banks of the 
 Ilissus to which Socrates and Phaedrus retire to read and 
 converse together in the heat of a summer's day. The 
 broad shade of a plane-tree, refreshing breezes, a spring, 
 lujct^ 4'WXf« \j^a.T^^ to cool their feet, and, what is best of 
 all, says Socrates, — ('sravrwv xoftJ/oraTov) a bed of grass in 
 which they could recline at their ease — these are the 
 materials of the description : not a single allusion to the 
 pleasure of the eye. — We learn from a passage that 
 follows this description, that the country had no charms 
 for Socrates. His apology is curious. He could " learn 
 nothing from fields and trees ^ l,uyyivoi)(r)cE ^ /mi, a a^irs^ 
 he says to Phaedrus, who had rallied him on that sub- 
 ject, ^i>^(jux^<i ya^ slfju. ra fjuv sv x^S^^ *«* "^^ ^evo^a i^tif 
 /K£ ^fc^f» 3i3ajx£iv, 01 J'iy ra am avO^aTTOi, Phadrus, p. 230. 
 Ed. Serrani, 
 
h 
 
 
 4^ ItrsSE KTATTO W T, 
 
 readily axhuitted; md as the subject is curious; 
 and ms not, that I know of, been discussed, the 
 reader will, perhaps, pardon me, if I suffer it to 
 detain us from our direct patli, in a digression 
 of some length. 
 
 I do not mean to deny that there are sowie 
 beautifur, though sfight, touches of local descrip- 
 tion to be found in the antient Poets. But it 
 must be confessed, I think, that they scattered 
 these beauties with a sparing hand, in comparison 
 with that rich profusion of picturesque ideas 
 which every reader of Poetry recollects in Shak- 
 speare, Milton, Spenser, Thomson, and almost 
 all the modern Poets of any name. Nor can I 
 say that I am able to point out anything of this 
 sort in the most descriptive of the Greek Poets 
 — in Theocritus, or even in Homer—that fairly 
 amounts to such picturesque landscape-description 
 (if I may call it so), as I mean, and as we find 
 so frequently in the Poets just mentioned. In 
 Mr. Popes Poetical Inde.v to his Homer, wc are 
 referred, indeed, to descriptions of " prospects,'' 
 and 'landscapes of a fine country \" but, if we 
 turn to the original, we shall seldom, or never, 
 find these landscapes. They are of Mr. Pope's 
 painting; sometimes suggested by a single epithet, 
 as his 
 
 grassy Vieleon decked zvitk chearful greens. 
 
 The fmvrs of Ceres and the syhan scenes, 
 
 Hiad, ii. 850. 
 
 One 
 
 On Poetry const def Hi as art Imitative Art, Jff, 
 
 One word only of thi^ description* is Homer's 
 prof)erty, " grassy,'' A£;)^f7ro(»ii/". Many other 
 instances may be found, particularly in hi^ 
 catalogue of the ships, which indeed lie professes 
 to har^^e endeavoured to " make appear as mucb 
 " a landscape or piece of painting as possible." 
 [Obs. on the calj^logu^.] Sometinfies he doea 
 more than *' open the prospect a little^' as he 
 expresses it ; he creates it. In his perj^ieus 
 version (^' Perfidat — sed quatnivis perfida, carat 
 tannen' ! ") " lofty Scsamus invades the sky ;" and 
 the river Parthenius 
 
 - - - toird thro' banks of facers 
 Reflects kef botd'riftg palaces and botvers. 
 
 lb, 104a. 
 
 nt Horrief, Xht mfountain and the river ar^ 
 Simply nartied; not a ^ihgle epHhet attends them*. 
 lit 
 
 " II. B. 697. The adjective, ^r^jiy, however, is by 
 no means adequate to — X£;^£9rooiv, — ^i. e. tiji/ 'Bo>My 'ssooat- 
 lx;»^<av Kou ^a9£iciVy suauin^ h ri hi kou AEHAS0AI, Tsrert, 
 I^OIMH0HNAI. Ucsych.—UtviQC, probably, Mr. Pope's 
 lowers, &c. A single word perfectly equivalent to a 
 single word of the original cannot always be found. In 
 this case, a translator, unwilling to fall short of the Poet's 
 meaning, naturally endeavours to express in ^ore 
 words what he Has said in one ; but In doing this, he ^ill 
 often be unavoidably reduced to the dilemma, of either 
 mi'sVfepre^tiltlrtg the original, if he admits different or 
 addit'totial ideas, or, of weakening it by diffusion, if he- 
 does not. 
 
 • H. B. 853, 854. 
 
II 
 
 4S DISSE RTATXOK I. 
 
 In the Index to the Odyssey, we find, among 
 other descriptions, one, of *^ the landscape about 
 Ithaca.'' This has a promising appearance. 
 Mr. Pope indeed has done his utmost to make a 
 landscape of this description ; yet, even his trans- 
 lation, though certainly beautiful, and even pictu 
 resque^ will hardly, I believe, be thought to come 
 up to what a modern reader would expect from 
 — " the landscape about Ithaca'' Still less is tliis 
 title applicable to the original **. All that can be 
 said of it without exaggeration is, that it is u 
 very pleasing scene, though described, as many 
 things in Homer are described, with that simplicity 
 which leaves a great deal, and may suggest a great 
 deal, to the fancy of the reader. Though it does 
 not answer to the idea given of it in Pope's index, 
 or in the note upon the place', yet it must be 
 allowed to furnish, at least, some good materials 
 for a landscape; such as, a grove', water falling 
 from a rock, and a rustic altar. If the descrip- 
 tion itself is too simple, short, and general^ to be, 
 properly speaking, picturesque description^ yet it 
 
 f Od. P. 204 — 211. 
 
 < ** It is observable that Homer gives us an exact 
 ** draught of the country ; he sets before us, as in a ficturcy 
 " the city" &c. Od. Book xvii. note on v. 224. 
 
 ' Wovc\tx\ gvos t \s circular \ otKor^ HavTotrt YiStlLhO- 
 TEPES. ver. 209. A circumstance rather unpicturesque. 
 Mr. Pope knew what to suppress, as well as what to add. 
 He softens this into a ** surrounding grove.'* 
 
 % 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, 49 
 
 is such as wants nothing, to become so, but a 
 little more colouring of expression, a little more 
 distinctness and sptciality of touch. This, and 
 more than this, Mr. Pope has given it; and that 
 his description is, at least, highly picturesque, W\\\ 
 scarce be disputed. Homer gives us simply — 
 ." an altar to the nymphs'." Pope covers it with 
 moss^ and embowers it deep in shades ; and in his 
 concluding line, he goes beyond the description 
 of the J)lace, to the description of the '' religio 
 loci" — of the ej^ect of the place upon the minds 
 of those who approached it. 
 
 Beneath, sequester d to the nymphs is seen 
 ' A mossy altar, deep-embozverd in green ; 
 Where constant vows by travellers are paid, 
 j4nd holy horrors solemnize the shade. 
 
 V. 242. 
 
 — The additions of Mr. Pope's pencil are distin- 
 guished, in the above quotations, by Italics \ 
 
 But, 
 
 * j9a)/u©-— w/x^aajv. v. 210. 
 
 ^ Many such additions and imprcvements the reader 
 will also find in his translation of Homer's description 
 of the shield, in the i8th book. To give one remarkable 
 specimen: — The eleventh compartirnent of the shield, 
 he tells us in his Observations on the Shield at the end 
 of that book, is, *' an entire landscafe without human 
 " figures, an image of nature solitary and undisturbed," 
 &c. Let us first view this landscape in the original. 
 
 11.2.587. 
 
 VOL.1. s E» 
 
M'^ *' 
 
 t^ 
 
 50 
 
 DISSERTATION I. 
 
 But, to prvve the inferiority of tiie antients in 
 this species of description, by an accurate and 
 comparative examination of all those passages 
 which are commonly produced as examples of it, 
 would be a task of considerable length, though, 
 I think, of no great difficulty. The few instances 
 here given from Homer are intended rather as 
 illustrations of the difference I meant to point 
 
 out, 
 
 Ey uatXri ^na-ayjy (Aiyav olav a^ewowv. 
 
 What Lsaid of the simplicity zn^ gemraiiti^ of thedc- 
 scription last mentioned, in the Odyssey, is exactly 
 applicable to this. Even in his ^roxr-translation of these 
 lines, [Obs. p. 123.] Mr. Pope could not perfectly 
 command his fancy. " The divine artist then en- 
 *< graved a large flock of white sheep, feeding along a 
 " beautiful valley. Innumerable folds, cottages^ and 
 *' enclosed shelters, w^ere scattered through the 
 " PROSPECT." The expressions 1 have distinguished 
 are Mr. Pope's ; their effect on the visibility and dis- 
 tinctness of the picture, I need not point out. The last 
 addition — " scattered through the prospect^^ is particularly 
 picturesque. — Now, let us turn to his poetic version, and 
 there, indeed, we shall find that finished landscape of 
 which Homer furnished only the simple sketch: 
 
 Next this, the eye the art of Vulcan leads ' 
 Deep through hir forests, and a length of meads ; 
 And stalls, and folds, and scatter'' d cots between^ 
 And feecy flocks that whiten all the scene. 
 
 i" 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative An, r i 
 
 out, than as proofs of the general fact, which 
 I leave to the recollection and tlie judgment of 
 the reader. To me, I confess, nothing appears 
 more evident. 
 
 And may we not account for this defect in 
 antient Poetry, from a similar defect in the sister 
 art of PAINTING?— For it appears, I think, 
 from all that has been transmitted to us of the 
 history of that art among the antients, that land- 
 scape-pabiting either did not exist, or, at least, 
 was very little cultivated or regarded among the 
 Greeks". InJ^iy's account of Grecian artists ? 
 we find no landscape-painter mentioned7nor^ny- 
 thing like a landscape described in his catalogue ^ 
 
 of 
 
 ■ The Abbe Winckelmann, eminent for the accu- 
 racy of his researches into every thing relative to the 
 subject of antient arts, gives it as liis opinion, that the 
 paintings discovered in the ruins of Herculanum, (four 
 only excepted,) are not older than the times of the 
 Emperors; and he assigns this reason, among others, 
 that mo'^t of them are only landscapes: — " Paysages, 
 ** ports, maisons de campagne, chasses, peches, vues, & 
 " que le premier qui travailla dans ce genre fut un 
 " certain Ludio qui vivoit du terns d'Auguste/' He 
 adds, — " Les anciens Grecs ne s'amusoient pas a peindre 
 " des objets inanimes, uniquement propres a rejouir agre^ 
 « ablement la vue sans occuper l^esprit" \_HisU de P Art 
 che% les Anciens^ tome ii. p. 104.] The remark seems just, 
 Men and manners^ were the only objects which the 
 Greeks seem to have thought worth regarding, either in 
 painting, or poetry. 
 
 £ 2 
 
50 DISSERTATIONI. 
 
 But, to pry)ve the inferiority of die antients in 
 this species of description, by an accurate and 
 comparative examination of all those passages 
 which are commonly produced as examples of it, 
 would be a task of considerable length, though, 
 I think, of no great difficulty. The few instances 
 here given from Homer are intended rather as 
 illustrations of the difference I meant to point 
 
 out, 
 
 Ey «aX>j ^YKTayjj fAfyav oicav a^twouavp 
 
 What I, said of the simplicity zn^ generaiity of the dc- 
 scription last mentioned, in the Odyssey, is exacdy 
 applicable to this. Even in his ^ro/r-translation of these 
 lines, [Obs. p. 123.] Mr. Pope could not perfectly 
 command his fancy. *' The divine artist then en- 
 '* graved a large flock of white sheep, feeding along a 
 " beautiful valley. Innumerable folds, cottages^ and 
 ** enclosed shelters, were scattered through the 
 " PROSPECT." The expressions I have distinguished 
 are Mr. Pope's ; their effect on the visibility and dis- 
 tinctness of the picture, I need not point out. The last 
 addition — " scattered through the prosfect^^ is particularly 
 picturesque. — Now, let us turn to his poetic version, and 
 there, indeed, we shall find that finished landscape of 
 which Homer furnished only the simple sketch : 
 
 Next this, the eye the art of Vulcan leads ' 
 Deep through hiT forests, and a length of meads ; 
 And stalls, and folds, and scatter'^d cots between^ 
 And feecy flocks that whiten all the scene. 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, e\ 
 
 out, than as proofs of the general fact, which 
 I leaVe to the recollection and tHe judgment of 
 the reader. To me, I confess, nothing appears 
 more evident. 
 
 And may we not account for this defect in 
 antient Poetry, from a similar defect in the sister 
 art of PAINTING?— For it appears, I think, 
 from all that has been transmitted to us of the 
 history of that art among the antients, that land- 
 scape-painting either did not exist, or, at least, 
 was very little cultivated or regarded among the 
 Greeks". In Plhiy's account of Grecian artists 
 we find no landscape-painter mentioned f nor Any- 
 thing like a landscape described in his catalogue | 
 
 ""of 
 
 ■ The Abbe Winckelmann, eminent for the accu- 
 racy of his researches into every thing relative to the 
 subject of antient arts, gives it as his opinion, that the 
 paintings discovered in the ruins of Herculanum, (four 
 only excepted,) are not older than the times of the 
 Emperors; and he assigns this reason, among others, 
 that most of them are only landscapes: — " Paysages, 
 ** ports, maisons de campagne, chasses, peches, vues, & 
 que le premier qui travailla dans ce genre fut un 
 certain Ludio qui vivoit du terns d'Auguste/' He 
 adds, — " Les anciens Grecs ne s'amusoient pas a peindre 
 " des objets inanimes, uniquement propres a rejouir agre- 
 " ablement la vue sans occuper r esprit" [Hist, de T Art 
 chez les Anciens^ tome ii. p. 104.] The remark seems just. 
 Men and manners, were the only objects which the 
 Greeks seem to have thought worth regarding, either in 
 painting, or poetry. 
 
 £ 2 
 
 iC 
 
 cc 
 
52 niSSERTAT I O N I. 
 
 of their principal works. The first, and the only 
 landscapes he mentions, are those said to be 
 painted in fresco by one Ludius in the time of 
 Augustus ; " <|ui primus instituit amoenissimam 
 ** parictum picturam ; — villas, & porticus, ac 
 " topiaria opera — lucos^ nemora^ colles, — amneSy 
 
 " Uttora varias ibi obambulantium species, 
 
 ** aut navigantium, terraque villas adeuntiinn 
 " asellis aut vekiciilis,"' &c. — He likewise painted 
 
 seaports; — '' idemque maritimas urbes pin- 
 
 '' gere instituit, blandissimo aspectu^." He 
 seems to have been the Claude Lorrain of antient 
 painting. But, that landscape was not, even hi 
 Pliny's time, a common and established branch 
 of painting, may perhaps be presumed from the 
 single circumstance of its not having acquired a 
 name. In the passage just quoted, Plmy calls it 
 only, periphi^stically, ** an agreeable kind of 
 *' painting, or subject," " amcenissimam pictu- 
 " ram"." He is not sparing of technical terms 
 upon ojher occasions ; as, rhyparographuSj an- 
 thropograpkus, catagraphay rnonocromata, &c. 
 
 With 
 
 ^ Plin. Hist. Nat. xxxv. lo. 
 
 * It is remarkable also, that the younger Pliny, where 
 he describes the view from one of his villas, and com- 
 pares it to a painted landscape, expresses himself, pro- 
 bably for want of an appropriated term, (such as paysage. 
 Ice) by a periphrasis; — ^^ formam aliquam ad eximiam 
 " pulchrhud'inem pctam\' — i.e. *< a beautiful ideal land- 
 " sca^e'^ Plin. Ep, lib, v. fp, 6. 
 
 */ 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, 55 
 
 With respect to the Greeks^ at least, this may be 
 allowed to afford somewhat more than a pre- 
 sumption of the fact. 
 
 The Greek Poets, then, did not describe the 
 scenery of nature in a picturesque manner, 
 because they were not accustomed to see it with 
 a painter's eye. Undoubtedly they were not 
 blind to all the beauties of such scenes; but 
 those beauties w'erc not heightened to them, as 
 they are to us, by comparison with painting — 
 witli those models of improved dA\A selected ivdiure, 
 which it is the business of the landscape-painter 
 to exhibit They had no Thomsons, .because 
 they had no Claudes.^ Indeed, the influence of 
 painting, in tliis respect, not only on Poetry, but 
 on the general taste for the visible beauties of 
 rural nature, seems obvious and indisputable J. 
 Shew the most beautiful prospect to a peasant, 
 who never saw a landscape, or read a description : 
 I do not say that he will absolutely feel 710 plea- 
 sure from it ; but I will venture to say, that the 
 
 pleasure 
 
 t I do not know that there is, either in the Greek 
 or Roman language, any single term appropriated to 
 express exacdy what we mean by a prospect. Pliny, 
 in the epistle referred to in note% and in the 17th 
 of 2d book, has frequent occasion for such a term, but 
 is obliged to have recourse to circumlocution — rcgionis 
 forma — regionis situm--facieS'^facies locorum. " Tot 
 ** fades locorum totidem fenestris & distinguit & miscet.'* 
 [ii. 17,] Ang^ — " so mzny prospects,** 
 
 E 3 
 
s* 
 
 DISSERTATION I, 
 
 pleasure he will feel is very different in kind, and 
 very inferior in degree, compared with that which 
 is felt by a person of a cultivated imagination, 
 accustomed to the representation of such objects' 
 either in painting, or in picturesque Poetry.' 
 Such beauty does imitation reflect back upon the 
 object imitated".— What may serve to confirm 
 the truth of these remarks, is, that from the time 
 of Augustus, when, according to Pliny, land- 
 scape-painting was first cultivated, descfiptions of 
 prospects, picturesque imagery, and allusions to 
 that kind of painting, seem to have become more 
 common. I do not pretend, however, to have 
 accurately examined this matter. I shall only 
 remind the reader of the acknowledged supe- 
 riority of Virgil in touches of tliis kind; of 
 Pliny's description of the view from his villa, 
 mentioned above ; and of /Elian's description 
 of the Vale of Tempe, and his allusion to 
 painting in tiie introduction to it^. 
 
 To return to description in general ; —this, as 
 I observed above, Aristotle was so far from' in- 
 
 4 
 
 cludino^ 
 
 - o 
 
 y "Elegant imitation has strange powers of interest- 
 " ing us in certain views of nature. These we con- 
 " sider but transiently, till the Poet, or Painter, awake 
 « our attention, and send us back to life with a new 
 " curiosity, which we owe entirely to the copies which 
 " they lay before us." Preface to Wood's Essay on 
 Homer, p. 13. 
 
 • See above, Part I. notC", p. 14. 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art. 55 
 eluding hi his notion of imitation^ that he is even 
 totally silent concerning it ; unless he may be 
 ibougbt slightly to allude to it in one passage, 
 where he recommends it to the Poet to reserve 
 his higliest -coiouriag of language for the inactive, 
 tiiat is, the Hierely nanative, or desmptive, parts 
 of his poem *. Several obvious circumstances 
 help to account for this sileiKe. Intent on tlie 
 higher precepts, and on what be regarded as the 
 more essential beauties of the art— the internal 
 construction and contrivance of the fable, the 
 artful dependence and close connection of the 
 incidents, the union of the wonderful and the 
 probable, the natural delineation of character and 
 passion, and whatever tended most effectually to 
 arrest the attention, and secure the emotion, of 
 the spectator or the reader — intent on these, he 
 seems to have thought the beauties of language 
 and expression a matter of inferior consideration, 
 scarce worthy of his attention. The chapters on 
 diction seem to afford some proof of this. The 
 manner in which he has treated that subject, will 
 be found, if I mistake not, to bear strong marks 
 of this comparative negligence, and to be, in 
 several respects, not such as the reader, from the 
 former parts of the work, w^ould naturally expect ^ 
 
 To 
 
 Cap.xxiv. Translation, Part III. Sect. 6. SeethcNOTE. 
 ^ See the notes on that part. 
 
 E4 
 
S^ D I S S E R T A T I O N I. 
 
 To this it should be added, that Aristotles 
 principal object was, evidently, Tragedy. Now 
 in Tragedy, where the Poet himself appears 
 not,— where all is action, emotion, imitation— 
 where the succession ©f incidents is close and 
 rapid, and rarely admits those d^yx fjLt^n^ those 
 *' id/e or inactive parts,'" of winch the philosopher 
 speaks— there is, of course, but little occasion, 
 and little room, for description. It is in the open 
 and extended plan, the varied and digressive nar- 
 ration, of the Epic form, that the descriptive 
 powers of the Poet have full range to display 
 themselves within tlieir proper province. 
 
 I have attempted, in the preceding discussion, 
 to make my way through a subject, which I have 
 never seen treated in a manner perfectly clear 
 and satisfactory by others, and which I am there- 
 fore far from confident that I have treated clearly 
 myself. I can only hope that I have, at least, 
 left it less embarrassed than I found it'. I shall 
 
 venture, 
 
 . ' Some writers, by imitation understand fiction only : 
 others explain it only by the general term description ; 
 and others, again, give it a greater extent, and seem to 
 consider language as imitating whatever it can express. 
 [See above, note', and Harris on Music, &c. ch. i.] 
 Some speak of it as the imitation of nature, in general ; 
 others seem, to confine it to the imitation of la belit 
 nature, ^By Sume writers, die proposition, that « all 
 
 POETRY 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art, 57 
 
 venture, with the same view, to terminate this 
 inquiry by a few remarks on the origin of this 
 doctrine of poetic imitation. 
 
 Its history may be sketched in few words. — 
 We find it first in Plato ; alluded to in many 
 parts of his works, but no where so clearly and 
 particularly developed, asJn the third and tenth 
 books of his Republic, Aristotle followed; 
 applymg7 and pursuing to its consequences, with 
 the enlarged view of a philosopher and a critic, 
 the principle which his master had considered 
 with the severity of a moral censor, and had de- 
 scribed, as we describe an impostor or a robber, 
 only, that being known, it might be avoided •*. 
 
 From these sources, but principally from the 
 treatise of Aristotle, this doctrine was derived, ^ 
 through the later antient, to the latest modem 
 writers. In general, however, it must be con- 
 fessed, that the way in which the subject has 
 been explained is not such as is calculated to give 
 
 perfect 
 
 •* 
 
 POETRY is imitation," is considered as too plain a 
 point t© need any explanation ; while others are unable 
 10 see why any Poetry, except the dramatic only, should 
 be so denominated. [See Wood's Essay on Homer, 
 p. 240, octavo, and the note.] 
 
 ^ The chief objections of Plato to imitative Poetry, 
 particulaily Tragedy, may be seen in the loth book of his 
 Repubhc, from v^aTToyrai, ^ofxev, av9^u7nti — p. 603, C. 
 to iufxp]fM, p. 608, B. Ed, Serranu 
 
/ 
 
 5^ DISSERTATION I. 
 
 perfect satisfactioo to those fastidious under- 
 standings that ftre not to be contented with any- 
 thing less than distinct ideas; that, like the sun- 
 dial in the fable, allow o/ no medium between 
 knowing clearly, and knowing nothing. 
 
 Si je ne vois bien clair, je dis— Je n'en scais rien*. 
 
 It is one question, in what senses, and from 
 what original ideas. Poetry was first called 
 imitation by Plato and Aristotle : and anoTher, 
 what senses may have suggested themselves to 
 modem writers, who finding Poetry denominated 
 an imitative art, instead of carefully investigat- 
 ing the original meaning of the expression, have 
 ^ had recourse, for its explication, to their own 
 ideas, and have, accordingly, extended it to every 
 sense which the widest and most distant analogy 
 would bear. 
 
 With respect to the origin of the appellation— 
 the very idea that Poetry is imitation, may, I 
 
 ^!^]2fe .^^^^^"% be traced to the theatre j^to 
 
 it&«-Qa|ural source; and it may, perhaps, very 
 
 / reasonably be questioned, whether, if the drama 
 
 1 had never been invented. Poetry w^ould ever 
 
 ^ have been placed in the class of Imitative Arts. 
 
 / I^-^L^^^U^"^^? ^^^^ ^^ ideas^ of Poetic 
 
 I imitation chiefly from the drama, is evident from 
 
 what has been already said. His preference, 
 
 indeed, 
 
 * La Montre et le Quadran, in the ingenious and philo- 
 sophical fables of La Motte. Livre iii. fab. 2. 
 
 On Poetry considered as an ImiUitive Art. go 
 
 indeed, of dramatic Poetry, is not only openly 
 declared in his concluding chapter, but strongly 
 marked throughout, and by the very plan 
 and texture of his work. The Epic — that 
 " greatest work," as Dryden extravagantly calls 
 it, '* which the soul of man is capable to per- 
 form V is slightly touched and soon dismissed. 
 Our eye is still kept on Tragedy. The form and 
 features of the Epic iNIuse are rather described 
 by comparison with those of her sister, than de- 
 lineated as they are in themselves ; and though 
 that preference which is the result of the com- 
 parison seems justly given on the whole, yet it 
 must, perhaps, be confessed, that the comparison 
 is not completely stated, and that the advantages 
 and privileges of the Epic are touched with some 
 reserve'. It is, inideed, no wonder, that he, who 
 held imitation to be the essence of Poetry, should 
 
 prefer 
 
 ^ Pref, to his -^neid. 
 
 f For example:— in Part III. sect. 2. [Orlg. ch. xxiv.] 
 he had allowed the greater extent of the Epic Poem to 
 give it an advantage over Tragedy in point of variety 
 and magnificence. But, in the comparispn between them 
 in his last chapter, this important advantage is entirely 
 passed over, and only the disadvantages of the epic ex- 
 tent of plan are mentioned ; its Variety, the want of 
 which he had before allowed to be a great defect, and 
 even a frequent cause of ill success, in tragedy, is here 
 stated only as a fault— as want of unity, [See Part V. 
 sect. 3. Ori^, cap. :^xvi.] 
 
 1 
 
60 DISSERTATION I. 
 
 prefer that species which, being more strictly 
 imitative, was, in his view, more strictly Poetry, 
 than any other. 
 
 With respect to Plato the case is still plainer. 
 In the third book of his Republic, where he 
 treats the subject most fully, and is most clear 
 and explicit, he is so far from considering '* all 
 Poetry'' as imitation, that he expressly distin- 
 guishes imitative Poetry from " Poetry without 
 imitation^" Nor does he leave us in any uncer- 
 tainty about his meaning. His imitative Poetry 
 is no other than that which I have called person- 
 ative, and which the reader will find clearly and 
 precisely described in the passage referred to*. 
 Imitation, then, he confines to the drama, and the 
 dramatic part of the epic poem ; and that, which 
 with Aristotle is the principaly with Plato is the 
 only, sense of imitation applied to Poetry. In 
 short, that Plato drew his idea of the MIMH2IS 
 X of Poetry from the theatre itself, and from the 
 personal imitations of represe?2ted -tragedy , is 
 evident from the manner in which he explains 
 the term, and from the general cast and language 
 of all Bis illustrations and allusions, — '* When the 
 " Poet,'' he says, " quitting his narration, makes 
 " any speech in the character of another person, 
 " does he not then assimilate, as much as pos- 
 . " sible, 
 
 Rep. 3. ed, Ser, p. 393* ^veu (Mfinaeui vocna-ii, and 
 //^. X. p. 605. fMfjtrrriK^ tjoifrrn;* 
 
 [ Rep. 3, from D. p. 392, to D. p. 394. ed, Scr. 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art. 61 
 
 " sible, his language to that of the person intro- 
 
 *' duced as speaking? — Certainly. — But to assi- 
 
 " milate one s self to another person, either in 
 
 " VOICE or GESTURE — is not this to imitate 
 
 " that person "^ r" And in many other passages 
 
 we find the same allusion to the imitations, by 
 
 voice and action, of the actor and the rhapsodist; 
 
 and even to ludicrous mimicry of the lowest 
 
 kind\ 
 
 All 
 
 ^ Axx* oTov yi Tiva, X£y»j prjaiv a; ng a>^^ «v, ap ob tots 
 i/twisv ainov (frnjofiiv oTifjux>drci Tnv aura Aelii htara ov oaf 'Sf^oeiTTYi - 
 iig iowTa ; — ^r\70(xiv' ti ya^ k -r^OvKnv to yz o/jloihv lavTOV 
 «^^6), If MLTOi ^UNHN, h xaTO. 2XHMA, fHfjieidQai krif 
 sKsivov a av Tig ofMm ; Rep. 3, p. 393- ^^» Serran. 
 
 ^ Ibid. p. 395 — KOLTa XnMA kou $1INA2« — p. 397, 
 Xffi; lia /jufxwiti; ^XINAIS te kui SXHMA2L The reader 
 may also sec p. 396 and 397 ; in both which places he 
 alludes even to the lowest and most ridiculous kind of 
 mimicry. The passages are so curious and amusing, 
 that the reader will pardon me if I suffer them, in a note, 
 to lead me into a short digression. He speaks in them 
 of imitating, or, as we call it, taking off, " the neighing 
 *' of horses, and the bellowing of oulls— thei, sound of 
 *^ thunder, the roaring of the sea and the winds — the 
 tones of the trumpet, the flute, and all sorts of instru- 
 ments — the barking of dogs, the bleating of sheep, 
 ", and the singing of birds — the rattle of a shower of 
 ** ^m7,and the rumbling of wheels. ^^ — The sublime Plato 
 was not always sublime. — The expressions here are too 
 strong to be understood merely of the imitations of 
 poetical description i^ they are applicable only to vocal 
 
 mimicry. 
 
 ti 
 
 a 
 
 
X 
 
 62 DISSERTATION!. 
 
 All this will scarce appear strange or surprisintr 
 if we recollect the close connection which then 
 subsisted between poetical and personal imitation. 
 It was by ntymeans with the antients as it is with 
 us. Before the multiplication of copies was 
 
 facilitated 
 
 mimicry. Were there any doubt of this, it might be 
 sufficiently removed by other passages of antient authors 
 in which similar feats are recorded. Plutarch, [De aud. 
 Pott, ed. H. Steph. p. 31.] commenting upon Aristotle's 
 distinction, Part I. § 5, between the pleasure we receive 
 from the imitation, and that which we receive from tlic 
 real object, observes, that—" though the grunting of a 
 '« hog, the rattle of wheels, the whisding of the wind, 
 '* and the roaring of the sea, for instance, are sounds^' 
 ** in themselves offensive and disagreeable, yet when we 
 ** hear them well and naturally imitated, they give us 
 « pleasure,'' And he records the names of two eminent 
 performers in this way, Parmeno, and Theodorusr, the first 
 of whom possessed the grunt of the hog, and the other 
 the rattle of the wheel, in high perfection. — This 
 Theodorus was, probably, a different person from the 
 tragic actor of the same name, whose vocal talents of a 
 higher kind are mentioned by Aristotle in his Rhetoric, 
 (lib. iii. cap. I.) and who was eminent for the power of 
 accommodatmg the tone of his voice to the various cha- 
 racters he represented. « The voice," says the philo- 
 sopher, "of Theodorus appears always to be that of 
 *' the very person supposed to speak : not so the voices 
 *' of other actors." In order fully to understand which 
 praise, it is necessary to recollect, that this vocal flexibility 
 in an actor had far greater room to display itself among 
 4 ' the 
 
 * 
 
 ^5 
 
 On Poetry considered as oH Imitative Art* > 
 
 facilitated by the invention of printing, reading 
 w»as uncommon. It was not even till long after, 
 that it became, in any degree, the general practice, 
 as it ii? now. Yet Poetry, we knovr, among the 
 Greeks, was the common food even of the vulgar. 
 
 But 
 
 -Hr ^^■— ^ | . . — .. ., - ■-■■■,,„ - ■ - ■-,■ - ^^^^— III! I— 
 
 the antients, than it has with us, on account of the exclu- 
 sion of women from their stage, v Hence one of the 
 objections of Plato to the admission of dramatic Poetry 
 into his Republic : « ^ emr^e^ofitv uv ^ofisv xri^ea-^ai, xai 
 hiv ainn; M^ag ayaQag ymaOai, FTNAIKA MIMEI20AI, 
 
 ANAPA2 ONTAS. x. t. aX. [J^ep. 3. p. 395, D.]- 
 
 a passage which may also serve to confirm what Has 
 been asserted, that Plato, in speaking of Poetry as imi- 
 tation, constandy kept his eye on the personal imitation 
 of the actor or the rhapsodist. — To ryurn to the art of 
 vocal mimicry : — 'the passages above produced shew it 
 to have been of very respectable antiquity. But there 
 are two other passages thai make it still more venerable; 
 one in the hymn to Apollo attributed to Homer, v, 162, 
 3, 4,— where the musical imitations of the Delian virgins 
 are described ; (see Dr. Burney's Hist, of Music, vok i. 
 p. 372.) and another very curious passage in the 
 Odyssey, A. 279, by which it appears, that the art was 
 practised even in the Trojan times, and that the beauteous 
 Helen herself, among her other charms, possessed the 
 talent of vocal mimicry in a degree that would, in modern 
 limes, have qualified her to make no inconsiderable figure 
 at Bartholomew-fair. She is described as walking round 
 the wooden horse, after its admission within the walls of 
 Troy, calling, by name, upon each of the Grecian chiefs, 
 and " imitating the voices of their wives,'' — -ILcvT-ajv A^biuv 
 
T:, 
 
 64 DISSERTATION I. 
 
 But they heard it only. The philosopher, the 
 critic, and the few who collected books when 
 they could be obtained only by the labour or 
 expence of transcription, might, indeed, take a 
 tragedy or an epic poem into their closets ; but, 
 to the generality, all was action, representation, 
 
 and 
 
 ^wvrjv laKad a}^oxoi(J'i. And so well did she take them offy 
 that their husbands were on the point of betraying them- 
 selves by answering, or coming out. Anticlus, in par- 
 ticular, would have spoken, if Ulysses had not, by main 
 force, stopped his mouth with his handy till Minerva came 
 to their relief, and took Helen away. 
 
 600: Oh<Ttu; Em MA2TAKA XEPSI HIEZE 
 
 NXIAEMEHI KPATEPHI2I, (ra«cr£ Je TsaYTocq A^a^sf !— 
 
 Od. A. 287, 8. 
 
 A line added in Pope's translation of this passage, 
 affords a curious example of misapplied ornament : — 
 
 Firm to his lips his forceful hands apply*d, 
 Till on his tongue the Jiutt* ring murmurs dy*d, 
 
 B. iv.v. 391. 
 
 — one instance out of many that might be quoted, of 
 the ridiculous effect produced, (especially in the Odyssey,) 
 by continual efforts to elevate what neither should nor can 
 be elevated. In the version of the i6th book, (a version 
 approved at least by Mr. Pope) we have this line : 
 
 They reach'd the dome j the dome with marble shirCd, 
 
 ' v. 41. 
 
 — who would suspect this to be a description of the 
 rude building which Eumasus, " airr©- hifxo^ iscrffiv} '* 
 [Lib. xiv. 8.] All that is, to be found of this marble dome 
 la Homer is a ^^ stone threshold,^' — yTre^^n ^cuvov i^ov ! v. 41. 
 
 On Poetry considered as an Imitative Art. 65 
 
 and recital. The tragic, and even the epic poet, 
 were, in a manner, lost in the actor and the rhap- 
 sodist °. A tragedy not intended for the stage, 
 would have appeared to the antients as great an 
 absurdity as an ode not written for music. With 
 theniy there could be no difBculty in conceiving 
 Poetry to be an Imitative Arty when it was 
 scarce known to them but through the visible 
 medium of arts, strictly and literally, mimetic. 
 
 °* The rhapsodist was defined to be, the actor of an epic 
 Poem. Va^ui^oi — uttok^itm hruv, Hesych, — Fa^^u^a — bi ra 
 Oft>jf« tTTri h T012 0EATPOIS a7rayye>^vrBg. — Suidas. 
 " Homer^s Poems,** says the ingenious and entertaining 
 author of the Enquiry into the Life and Writings of Homer y 
 " were made to be recited^ or sung to a company \ and 
 " not read in private, or perused in a book, which few 
 " were then capable of doing : and I will venture to 
 " affirm, tJiat whoever reads not Homer in thi% vieWy 
 ** loses a great part of the delight he might receive from 
 ^ the Poet." — Blackweirs Enquiry, &c. p. 122. 
 
 I 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
# '-§ 
 
 I 66 ] 
 
 DISSERTATION II. 
 
 ON THE DIFFERENT SENSES OF THE 
 
 WORD, IMITATIVE, 
 
 AS APPLIED TO MUSIC BY THE ANTIENTS, 
 
 AND BY THE MODERNS. 
 
 'T^H E whole power of Music may be reduced, 
 
 -^ I think, to three distinct effects ; — upon the 
 
 ear, the passions , and the imagination: in other 
 
 words, it may be considered as simply delighting 
 
 the sense, as raising emotions, or, as raising ideas. 
 
 The two last of these effects constitute the whole 
 
 of what is called the inoral*, or expressive, 
 
 power of Music ; and in these only we are to 
 
 look for anything that can be called imitation. 
 
 Music can be said to imitate, no farther than as 
 
 it expresses sometliing. As far as its effect is 
 
 merely physical, and confined to the ear, it gives 
 
 a simple, original pleasure ; it expresses nothing, 
 
 it rejirs to nothing ; it is no more imitative 
 
 than the smell of a rose, or the flavour of a 
 
 pine-apple. 
 
 Music 
 
 * Afcra/, merely as opposed to physical : — as affecting 
 the mind', not as Et/iic, or influencing the manners. 
 
 On the fVord Imitative, as applied to Music. 67 
 R[usic can raise ideas, immediately \ only by 
 the actual resemblance of its sounds and motions 
 to the sounds and motions of the thing suggested \ 
 Such Music we call imitative, in the same sense 
 in which we apply the word to a similar resem* 
 blance of sound and motion in poetry'. In both 
 cases, the resemblance, though immediate, is so 
 imperfect, that it cannot be seen till it is, in some 
 sort, pointed out ; and even when it is so, is not 
 always very evident. Poetry, indeed, has here a 
 great advantage ; it carries with it, of necessity, 
 its ow n explanation : for the same word that imi- 
 tates by its sound, points out, or hints, at least, 
 the imitation, by \Xs meaning. With Music it is 
 
 not 
 
 * Music may raise ideas immediately , by mere association ; 
 but I pass over the effects of this principle, (important 
 and powerful as it is, in Music, as in everything else,) 
 as having nothing to do with imitation. If, to raise an 
 idea of any obje«t by casual association, be to imitate, 
 any one thing may imitate any other. 
 
 I inserted the word, immediately, because Music has 
 also a power of raising ideas, to a certain degree, through 
 the medium of emotions, which naturally suggest corres- 
 pondent ideas ; that is, such ideas as usually raise suck 
 emotions. [See Harris, on Music, &:c. ch. vi. and below, 
 note •.] 
 
 ^ See Harris, ibid, ch, ii. where this subject is treated 
 with the author's usual accuracy and clearness. 
 
 • See Dissert, I. 
 
 r 2 
 
» 
 
 68 D I 8 S E R T A T I O N ir. 
 
 not so. It must call in the assistance of language, 
 or something equivalent to language, for its 
 interpreter *•. , 
 
 Of all tlie powers of Music, this of raising 
 ideas by direct resemblance is confessed to be 
 the weakest, and the least important. It is, 
 indeed, so far from teing essential to the pleasure 
 of the art, that unless used with great caution, 
 judgment, and delicacy, it will destroy tlmt 
 pleasure, by becoming, to every competent judge, 
 offensive, or ridiculous. It is, however, to Music 
 oithis kind only that Mr. Harris, and most other 
 modem writers, allow the word imitative to be 
 
 applied. 
 
 •* When the idea to be raised is that of a visible object, 
 the imitation of that object by painting, machinery, or 
 other visible representation, may answer the same end.— 
 A visible object strongly characterized by motion, may be 
 suggested by such musical motion as' is analogous to it. 
 Thus, a rapid elevation of sounds, bdars, or at least is 
 conceived to bear, some analogy to the motion of flame i— 
 but this analogy must be pointed out—" II faut que 
 " Taudlteur soit avcrti, ou par les paroles, ou par le 
 ** spectacle, ou par quelque chose d'equivalent, qu^'l 
 '' doit substituer Pidee du feu a cclle du son:' See 
 M. Dalembert's Melanges de Literature, vol v,p. 158,— 
 where the philosophical reader will, perhaps, be pleased 
 with some very ingenious and uncommon observations, 
 on the manner in which the imitative expression even of 
 Alusic without words, m.ay be influenced by the phrase^ 
 ology of the language in which the hearer thinks. 
 
 On the Wnrd Imitative, as applied to Music, 69 
 
 applied ^ The highest power of Music, and that 
 from which '' it derives its greatest efficacy," is, 
 undoubtedly, its power of raising emotions. But 
 this is so far from, being regarded by them as 
 imitation ^ that it is expressly opposed to it^. 
 
 The ideas, and the language, of the antients, on 
 this subject, were different. When thi^i/ speak \ 
 of Music as imitation, they appear to have solely, 
 or chiefly, in view, its power over the affections. 
 By imitatio7i, they mean, in short, w hat xve com- 
 monly distinguish from imitation, and oppose to 
 it, under the general term of expression '. With 
 respect to Aristotlf, in particular, this will 
 clearly appear from a few passages which T shall 
 produce from another of his writings ; and, at 
 the same time, the expressions made use of in 
 these passages, will help us to accoiwt for a mode 
 of speaking so different from that of modern 
 writers on the subject. 
 
 What 
 
 - ' .*' 
 
 * Dr. Beattic, On Poetry and Music, p. 138, &c passim.'^ 
 Lord Kaims, El, of Crit. vol, ii. p, i. Avison, &c. — • 
 There is but one branch of this imitation of sound by 
 sound, that is really important ; and that has been 
 generally overlooked. I mean, the igtiitation of the 
 tones of speech. — Of this, presendy. 
 
 ' Harris, On Music, Sec, p. 69, 99, 100. 
 
 * " If we compare imitation with expression, tlie 
 •' superiority of the latter will be evident." — Dr. Beattie, 
 On Poetry and Music, p. 139, 140, &c, — Avison, on Mus, 
 Expression^ Part II. § 3. " 
 
 F3 
 
7© DISSERTATION II. 
 
 What Aristotle, in the beginning of his treatise 
 on Poetry*, calls MIMH2I2 — imitation*— he 
 elsewhere, in the same application of it, to MusiCy 
 calls 'OMOIXIMA — resemblance. And he, also, 
 clears up his meaning farther, by adding the thing 
 resembled OY imitated^: — oixoiuixix TOIS H0ESI — 
 efjLoiu)iJt.arx TX2N HGHN * — " resemblance to 
 human matmevsy' i. e. dispositions, or tempers ; 
 for what he means by tliese tJSn, he has, likewise, 
 clearly explained by these expressions — oixoicaiAUToc 
 
 OVTHX xa* nPA0THT02- it* f ANAPIA2 xai 
 i:n€»P02:rNHS, cS:c. " resemblances of the irascible 
 " and the gentle disposition — of fortitude and 
 " temperance, &c."^ This resemblance, he ex- 
 pressly tells us, is " in the rln/th7?i and the 
 
 melody : " 
 
 See S^ct, I. of the translation. 
 
 fUfjLnffu^, — 
 
 ** In the saiy^e passage he uses the word fjufxiyjui, as 
 synonymous with opuiu^, 
 
 * Arist. de Repub. lib. viii. cap. 5, p. 455, Ed. Duval. 
 Plato uses fjufxiyxara TPOnXlN in the same sense. Di leg, 
 lib. ii. p. 655, Ed, Scr, 
 
 ^ The word, ^ffrj, taken in its utmost extent, includes 
 everything that is habitual and characteristic ; but it is 
 often used in a limited sense, for the habitual temper ^ or 
 disposition. That it is here used in th'at sense appears 
 from Aristotle's own explanation. I therefore thought 
 it necessary to fix the sense of the word manners, which 
 has the same generality as r,fi»?, and is its usual translation, 
 bj adding the words " disj>ositions or tempers*** 
 
 On the fVord Imitative, as applied to Music. 7 1 
 
 melody:''' — ifAOiUfxaTx h tok PT0MOI2 xai 
 
 TOif MEAEIIN, o^yu? xatt -ur^oLornT^^K In these 
 passages, Aristotle dificrs only in the 7iwde of 
 expression from Mr. Harris, when he affirms that 
 ** tliere are sounds to make us chearful or sad^ 
 " martial or /e;?^tr," Sec."":— from Dr. Beattie, 
 when he says, " Music may inspire devotion; 
 " fortitude, compassion ; — may infuse a sor- 
 " row,'' &c." 
 
 It appears then, in the Jirst place, that Music, 
 considered as affecting, or raising emotions, was 
 called imitation by the antients, because they 
 perceived in it that which is essential to all 
 imitation, and is, indeed, often spoken of as the 
 same thing — resemblance"". This resemblance, 
 
 however, 
 
 * The same expressions occur in the Problems, 
 Sect. xix. Prob. 29 and 27. 
 
 "* Chap. vi. 
 
 " On Poet, and Afus. p. 167. — ^In another place 
 Dr. Beattie approaches very near indeed to the language of 
 Aristotle; he says, ** After all, it must be acknowledged, 
 *' that there is some relation, at least, or analogy, if not 
 " SIMILITUDE, between certain musical sounds, and 
 " mental affections, &c," [p. 143.] 
 
 • " Imitations, or resemblances, of something else." 
 [Hutcheson*s Inquiry into the Orig. of our Ideas of 
 Beauty, &c. p. 15.] *' Taking imitation in iti proper sense, 
 •* as importing a resemblance between two objects. 
 [Lorrd Kaims, EL of Crit. ch xviii. § 3.] Imitation, 
 indeed, necessarily implies resemblance ; but the converse 
 is not true. 
 
 F4 
 
 9> 
 
7^ DISSERTATIOKII. 
 
 however, as here stated by Aristotle, cannot be 
 immediate^; for between sounds themselves, and 
 vterital affections, there can be no resemblance. 
 The resemblance can only be a resemblance of 
 2\ effect ;— the general emotions, tempers, or feelings 
 produced in us by certain sounds, are like those 
 that accompany actual grief, joy, anger, &c. — 
 And this, as far, ^i least, as can be collected 
 from the passage in question, appears to be all 
 that Aristotle meant. 
 
 But, secondly ;— the expressions of Music con- 
 sidered in itself, and xvithout words, are, (within 
 ^ certain limits,) vague, general, and equivocal. 
 What is4jsually called its power over the passio7jSf 
 IS, in fact, no more than a power of raisiufr a 
 general emotion, temper, or disposition, common 
 to several different, though related, passions ; as 
 pity, love— anger, courage, &c. ^ The effect of 
 wordsy is, to strengthen the expression of Music, 
 by confining it — by giving it a precise direction, 
 supplying it with ideas, circumstances, and an 
 object, and, by this means, raising it from a calm 
 and general disposition, or emotion, into some- 
 thing approaching, at least, to the stronger feeling 
 of a particular and determinate passion. Now, 
 
 amontr 
 
 ' ScG Dissert. I, first pages. 
 
 ^ The expression of Aristotle seems therefore accurate 
 and philosophical. It is everywhere— o/xo»w/m« H0nN, — 
 not riAeriN — a resemblance " to manners, or tempers/* 
 Hot ^^ to passions,'* 
 
 I 
 
 On the Word Imitative ^ as applied to Music. 73 
 
 among the antients, Music, it is well known, was 
 scarce ever heard without this assistance. Poetry 
 and Music were then far from having reached 
 that state of mutual independence, and separate 
 improvement, in which they have now been long 
 established. When an ancient writer speaks of 
 Music, he is, almost always, to be understood to 
 mean vocal Music — Music and Poetry united. 
 This helps greatly to account for the application 
 of the term imitative, by Aristotle, Plato, and 
 other Greek writers, to mnsicdX expression, which 
 modern writers oppose to musical imitation. That 
 emotions ai^e raised by Music, independently of 
 words, is certain'; and it is as certain that these 
 emotions resemble those of actual passion, tem- 
 per, &c. — But, in the vague and indeterminate 
 assimilations of M[usic purely instrumental, though 
 the effect is felt, and the emotion raised, the idea 
 of resemblance is far from being necessarily sug- 
 gested ; much less is itlikely, that such resemblance, 
 if it did occur, having no precise direction, should 
 be considered as imitation\ Add words to this. 
 
 Music, 
 
 ' This is expressly allowed by Aristode in the Problem 
 which will presently be pro(1uced : — km yof iav ri ANET 
 AOrOT /uA®-, of4Mi fx« H0O5:. 
 
 ' 1 observed {Note *) that Music is capable of raising 
 ideas, to a certain degree, through the medium of those 
 amotions which it raises immediately. But this is an effect 
 io delicate and uncertain — so dependent on the fancy, the 
 
 sensjibilty^ 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 V 
 
 / 
 
74 D ISS E R TAT I O K H, 
 
 Music, and the case will be very different There 
 is now a precise object of comparison presented 
 
 to 
 
 sensibility, the musical experience, and even the tem- 
 porary dispo ition, of the hearer, that to call it imitation, 
 is surely going beyond the bounds of all reasonable ana- 
 logy. Mtsic, here, is not imitative, but if I may hazard 
 the expression, merely suggestive. But, whatever we 
 may call it, this I will venture to say,— that in the best 
 mstrumental Music, expressively performed, the verv 
 indecision itself of the expression, leaving the hearer to 
 the free operation of his emotion upon his/ancy, and, as 
 • It were, to the free c/ioiee of such ideas as are, to him, mdst 
 adapted to react upon and heighten the emotion which 
 occasioned them, produces a pleasure, which nobody, 
 I believe, who is able to feel it, will deny to be one of 
 the most delicious that Music is capable of affording. 
 But far the greater part even ef those who have an ear 
 for Music, have onlysm ear-, and to them this pleasure i$ 
 unknown.—The complaint, so common, of the sepa- 
 ration of Poetry and Music, and of the total want of 
 meaning and expression in instrumental Music, was never, 
 I believe, the complaint of a man of true musical 
 feeling : and it might, perhaps, be not unfairly concluded, 
 that Aristotle, who expressly allows that " Music, even 
 without words, has expression,'' [See the Problem below] ^' 
 was more of a musician than his master Plato, who is 
 fond of railing at instrumental Music, and asks with 
 Fontenelle,— ** Sonate, que me veux tu l^-^isayxayiTrov, 
 anv Xoya yifi'CfAeioy puQfiov ts km U^fMviav yiyiviTHSiv, 'O, TI 
 BOTAETAl. I>eLegA'up,66g. [The story dfFontenelle 
 is well known— «Je n'oublierai jamais," says Rousseau, 
 . " la saijlie du celebre Fonlenelle, qui se trouvant excede 
 4 . « de 
 
 ' 
 
 On the fVtrd Imitative , as applied to Music. 75 
 
 to the mind ; the resemblance is pointed out ; the 
 thing imitated is before us. Farther, one prin- 
 cipal use of Music in the time of Aristotle, was 
 to accompany dramatic Poetry — that Poetry 
 which is most peculiarly and strictly imitative\ 
 and where manners and passions (n'flti x«i TD-a^rj) are 
 peculiarly the objects of imitation. 
 
 It is, then, no wonder, that the Antients, ac- 
 customed to hear the expressions of Music thus 
 constantly specijied, (Jetermined, and referred to a 
 precise object by the ideas of Poetry, should 
 view them in the light of imitations ; and that 
 even in speaking of Music, properly so called, as 
 Aristotle does, they should be led by this asso- 
 ciation to speak of it in the same terms, and to 
 attribute to it powers, which, in its separate state, 
 do not, in strictness, belong to it. With respect, 
 
 however, 
 
 <• de ces eternelles symphonies, s*ecria tout haut dans un 
 " transport d'impatience : Sonate, que me veux tuP'* 
 Diet, de Mus. — Sonate.] I would by no means be 
 understood to deny, that there is now, and has been at 
 all times, much unmeaning trash composed for instru- 
 ments, that would justly provoke such a question. I 
 mean only to say, what has been said for me by a 
 superior judge and master of the art : — *' There is some 
 " kind, even of instrumental music, so divinely com- 
 *' posed, and so ^expressively performed, that it wants no 
 " words to explain its meaning." — Dr. Burney's Hist, 
 of Music, vol. i. p. 85. 
 
 ' j:)iss. I. 
 
7^ DISSE RTaTION II. 
 
 however, even to the instrumenial Music of those 
 times, it should be remembered, that we cannot 
 properly judge of it by our awn, nor suppose it to 
 have been, in that simple state of the art, what 
 it is now, in its state of separate improvement 
 and refinement. It seems highly probable that 
 the Music of the antients, even in performances 
 merely instrumental, retained much of its vocal 
 style and character, and would therefore appear 
 more imitative than our instrumental Music: 
 and perhaps, after all, a Greek Solo on the flute, 
 or the cithara, was not much more than a son^^ 
 without the words, embellished here and there 
 with a little embroidery, or a few sprinklings of 
 simple arpeggio, such as the fancy, and the 
 fingers, of the player could supply. 
 
 But there is another circumstance that deserves 
 to be considered. Dramatic Music is, often, 
 strictly imitative. It imitates, not only the effect 
 of the words, by exciting correspondent emotions, 
 but also the words themselves immediately, by 
 tones, accents, inflexions, intervals, and rhythmical 
 movements, similar to those of speech. That 
 this was peculiarly the character of the dramatic 
 Music of the antients, seems highly probable, 
 not only from what is said of it by anticnt authors, 
 but from what we know of their Music in general-, 
 of their scales, their genera, their fondness for 
 chromatic and enharmonic intervals, which ap- 
 proach so nearly to those sliding and unassignable 
 
 inflexions, 
 
 On the Word Imitative, as applied to Music, 77 
 
 inflexions, (if I may so speak,) that characterize 
 the melody of speech, 
 
 I am, indeed, persuaded, that the analogy 
 between the melody and rhythm of Music, and 
 the melody and rhythm of speech"", is a principle 
 of greater extent and importance than is com- 
 monly imagined. Some writers have extended it 
 so far as to resolve into' it the whole power of 
 Music over the affections. Such appears to have 
 been die idea of Rousseau. He divides all Music 
 into natural and imitative ; including, under the 
 latter denomination, all Music that goes beyond 
 the mere pleasure of the sense, and raises any 
 kind or degree of emotion : an effect which he 
 conceives to be wholly owing to an imitation, 
 more or less perceptible, of the accents and in- 
 flexions of the voice in animated or passionate 
 speech'^. Professor Hutcheson v/as of the same 
 opinion. In his Inquiry concerning Beauty, &c. 
 he says — " There is also another charm in Music 
 " to various persons, which is distinct from the 
 " harmony, and is occasioned by its raising* 
 " agreeable passions. The human voice is ob- 
 
 " viously 
 
 ^ » uy^ai 7«f SVi KM AOrnAEI TI MEA02, to 
 
 cuy)tiHJ^vcv EK T«v 's^^ocru^icov twv h loi; ovof/OJi. [nristox, 
 Harm.i. p. 18. Ed, Meibom.'] To this he opposes — 
 MOTSIKON MEA02. 
 
 ^. « 
 
 Diet, dc Mus.'Art. Musique — M£Lodie,&c. 
 
78 DISSERTATION II. 
 
 viously varied by all the stronger passions ' ; 
 now when our tar discerns any resembUmce 
 between the air of ^ tune, whether suncr, or 
 played upon an instrument, either in its time 
 or modulation, or any other circumstance, to 
 the sou7id of the human voice in any passion, we 
 " shall be touched by it in a very sensible manner, 
 *' and have melancholy, joy, gravity, thought^ 
 " fulness, excited in us by a sort of sympathy or 
 
 «( 
 
 a 
 
 tc 
 
 <c 
 
 u 
 
 (t 
 
 n 
 
 contagion. 
 
 »> 
 
 * Thus Theophrastus, in a curious passage cited 
 by Plutarch in his Sympotiacs^ p. 623, Ed. Xyl. — M«(7«>jf 
 afX«5 Tf £ij £ivai, ATIIHN, HAONHN, EN0OTIIA2MON- 
 
 f«v>}v. " There are t/ireg principles of Music, grief, 
 
 *' pleasure^ and enthumasm ; for each of these passions 
 ** turns the voice from its usual course, and gives it in« 
 " flexions different from those of ordinary speech." — 
 ** II n'y a que les passions qui chantent,'^ says Rousseau ; 
 
 ** Tentendement ne fait que parUrT This passage 
 
 of Theophrastus is introduced to resolve the question^ 
 ^In what sense love is said to teach Music? — " No 
 " wonder," says the resolvcr, ** if love, having in itself 
 " all these three principles of Music, grief, pleasure, and 
 •* enthusiasm, should be more prone to vent itself in 
 " Music and Poetry than any other passion."— Aris- 
 toxenus, describing the difference between the two 
 motions of the voice, in speaking and in singing, — (the 
 motion by slides, and that by intervals) says — ^lo^rfp, 
 h T'u) ^uz>^£yE{T6M ^vyofjLiV TO Wavai tijv fwyw, av f^r) AIA 
 nA0O2 -aroTE bI; tgicivthv xim^iv avayxadQwixtv bhiv,^^ 
 p. 9. Ed. Meibomii. 
 
 ,■9 
 
 On the Word Imitative, as applied to Music, 79 
 
 *^ contagion,'' [Sect. 6. p. 83.] This ingenious 
 and amiable writer seems to have adopted this 
 opinion from Plato, to whom, indeed, in a 
 similar passage in his System of Moral Philo- 
 sophy ^, he refers, and who, in the third book of 
 bis Republic, speaks of a warlike melody, in- 
 spiring courage, as ** imitating the sound > and 
 " accents of the courageous man ;" and, of a 
 calm and sedate m lody, as imitating the sounds 
 of a; man of such a character '. 
 
 With respect to Aristotle — whether this was 
 his opinion, or not, cannot, I think, be deter- 
 mined from anything he has erpre 'ly ::ald upon 
 the subject. In the passage above produced *, 
 where so .much is said of the resemblance of 
 melody and rhythm to manners, or tempers, not 
 a word is said from which it can be inferred, that 
 he meant a resemblance to the tones and accents 
 by which those manners are expressed in speech. 
 On the contrary, the expressions there made use 
 of are sue! as lead us naturally to conclude, that 
 he meant no more than I have above supposed 
 him to mean ; i, e, that the Music produces in us, 
 
 immediately, 
 
 y Vol.i. p. 16. 
 
 « De Rep, lib. m, p, 399. Ed. Ser. The expressions 
 are — h [sc. af/Aoviat— i. e. mehdy.^ h rti 'ao'^iMucri m^a^ei 
 
 o'vT®- M^BiH iff^eTToy^ui av MIMHIAITO <^0OrrOT2 
 
 TE KAI nPOSniAIAS. — And again — (rwipfovwv, av^^nwv, 
 O0OrrOT2 MIMHSONTAI. 
 
 * P. 70. 
 
 ^ / 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ 
 
80 DISSERTATION II. 
 
 immediately, feelings resembling those of real 
 passion, &c. — For, after having asserted, that there 
 is " a resemblance in rhythms and melodies to 
 " the irascible and the gentle disposition," he 
 adds, — " This is evident from the manner in 
 ** which we find ourselves atFected by the per- 
 *' Jormance of such Music ; for we perceive a 
 " chcmge produced in the soul while we listen to 
 " it*." And again — *• In melody itself there are 
 " imitations of human manners : this is manifest, 
 " from the melodies or modes, which have, 
 ** evidently, their distinct nature and character ; 
 " so that, when we hear them, we feel ourselves 
 " affected by each of them in a different man- 
 ner, &c." ^ — But the passage furnishes, I think, 
 
 a more 
 
 tc 
 
 » Anxov h iK T«y s^yar METABAAAOMEN TAP THN 
 
 IKTXHN aK^oecfjLEvoi TOiwrm.^ ^ 
 
 ** Ev h roi<i fAi>£(nv cunoii in (MfjLUfjLaTa. tuv h^uv* km tkt* 
 
 AAAnS AIATI0E20AI, km /uij rov ainov r^Trov cx^iv 
 mpog Ixamv avTuv, — k, t. oA. The 'A^ftowau, i. e. melo- 
 dies, (or, more properly perhaps, enharmonic melodies) 
 here spoken of, must not be confounded with what arc 
 visually called the modes, and described by the writers on 
 antient music, under the denomination of tovm, i.e. 
 pitches, or keys : — these were mere transpositions of the 
 same scale, or system ; the A^imvuu appear to have been, 
 as the name implies, different melodies — scales, in which 
 the arrangement of intervals, and the divisions of the 
 tetrachord (or genera) were different. Aristides Quin-* 
 
 tilianus is the only Greek writer who has given any 
 
 account 
 
 On the IVord Imitative^ as applied to Music, 8 1 
 
 a more decisive proof that the resemblance here 
 meant, was not a resenibaiice to speech. Aristotle 
 asserts* here, as in the problem of which I shall 
 presently sj)eak, that, of all that affects the 
 setiseSy Music alone possesses this property of 
 resemblance to human manners. In comparing 
 it with painting, he observes, that this art can 
 imitate, immediately, only Jig u res and colours; 
 which are not resemblances (ojuoiw/xara) of man- 
 ners and passions, but only sigtis and indications 
 of tijem ((rnfj^noi,) in the human body : whereas, . 
 in Music, the resemblance to manners ** is in the 
 melody itself,'^ Now, whatever may be the^ 
 
 meaning 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 account of these a^fiovm. (p. 2i. Ed. Meib.) He asserts, 
 that it is of these, not of the Tovo<,*that Plato speaks in 
 the famous passage of his Republic^ lib. iVi. where he 
 rejects some of ihem, and retains others. This, at least, 
 is clear, that whatever the a^fxovtat of Plato were, 
 Aristotle here speaks of the same. See his Rep. viii. 
 p. 459. — Their distinctive names, Lydian, D rian, 6cc. 
 were the same with those of the tgvoi^ that of iyniono" 
 Lydian excepted, which, I think, is peculiar to the 
 o^fAOviai. This coincidence of names seems to have been 
 the chief cause of the confusion we find in the modern 
 writers on this subject. The distinction has been 
 pointed out in Dr. Burney's Hist, of Mus. vol. i, 
 p. 32.— See also Rousseau's Diet. art. Syntoko- 
 LYDiEN, & Genre. 
 
 «x hi Tama o/j.oicoixara ruv h&uv, a>^ct SHMEIA 
 ft;lX^oy, ta yivo^Bva ^x'V*^* **^ xf^^/^^a, twv h^uv km 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 ravra 
 
 (. 
 
8^ 
 
 DISSERTATION II. 
 
 meaning of this last assertion — for it seems not 
 quite philosophical to talk of such a resemblance 
 as being in the sounds themselves — whatever may 
 be its meaning, it cannot well be, that the melody 
 res3mbles manners as expressed hij speech ; be- 
 cause this would destroy the distinction between 
 Music and Painting: for xvords are exactly in 
 the same case with colours eind Jigures ; they are 
 not resemblances of manners, or passions, but 
 indications only. We must then, I fear, be con- 
 tented to take what Aristotle says as a popular 
 and unphilosophical way of expressing a mere 
 resemblance of effect. 
 
 In one of his Musical Problems , indeed, he 
 advances a step farther, and inquires into the 
 cause of this eftcct of Music upon the mind. 
 The text of these problems is, in general, very 
 incorrect, and often absolutely unintelligible ; this 
 problem, however, seems not beyond the reach of 
 secure emendation, though it may, possibly, be 
 beyond that of secure explanation. As it has not, 
 that I know of, been noticed by any writer on the 
 subject, and may be regarded at least as a 
 curiosity not uninteresting to the musical and 
 philosophical reader, I shall venture to give the 
 
 entire 
 
 Toura sfiv i'jri tjj ffu/xar^ h toi; rsjadso'iv, tv h TOI2 
 
 MEAE2IN ATTOIS in fjufAHfiara tuv yiOuv,—h. t. aX.— 
 p. 455. Ed. Duval, 
 
 On the Word Imitative^ us applied to Music. 83 
 
 entire problem, as I think it should be read, and 
 to subjoin a translation. 
 
 AIA TI TO ocTcag-ov jjlgvov rfi^ e^si rcav 
 ca(r67jTU)v\ (tcoh yoco eoiv ri ccvsv Xoya jiteX(^, ofJLug 
 l^et rfi^') uXX i to ^occ[Jioc, »d£ i o<rfi% io^ 
 
 i)/<?(p©^ 'fjf^ocg X.1VB1' T01CX.VTV} fivj yoco x,eii toiq 
 uXXoig \)7ruoxBi * x>iVBi yeco jcoct to xp^[^^ "^V^ ^y'^ * 
 dxXu Trig BTfOfjiBVYjg rto tousto) i{;c(pw uKT^otvofJiB^cx, 
 KivrjTeug' avrrj 66 6%e/ o/juoiottitix \^TOig yjGecnvy iv 
 
 TB TOtg IvdfjiOig KOtl Iv TYI TLOV (p&OyyiCV TOC^Bl TCf}V 
 
 c^Buv 7C0CI (iotoBO)V. {i^c Bv Tt] f^i^^i' oiXX Ti (rvfA(puiVicc 
 mc 6%£< ^6©^.) Ev Si TOig uXXoig alTGyiroig tuto 
 »x eg-iv, oil OB zivTjO'Big oajtou 'utloltct %0Li]Bi(nv * oct ob 
 w^u^BigvjGag G-yifiUG-iUBs-i. iProbl. xxwn. 0/ Sec. ig.} . 
 
 Problem. 
 
 " Why, of all that affects the senses, the 
 
 " AUDIBLE only has any exprehion of the 
 
 " manners; (for melody, even without words, 
 
 " has this effect — ) but colours, smells, and 
 
 '' tastes, 
 
 • ■ — ■ — ■ » 
 
 ^ The text here, in the Ed. of Duval, stands thus: — 
 Kivnaiv ex^i ixovovHXi r^v \J/o^^ — of which no sense can be 
 made. The emendation appeared to me obvious and 
 certain. 
 
 V * 1 insert — roig yiGso-iv — as plainly required by the 
 sense of the passage, and fully warranted by Aristotle's 
 repeated expressions of the same kind. — See above, 
 p 70.— I found no other corrections necessary, 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 DISSERTATION II. 
 
 tastes, have no such property? Is it be- 
 cause the awdible alone aftlcts us by motion ? — 
 I do not mean that niolion by which as mere 
 sound it acts upon the er/r ; for such motion 
 belongs equally to the objects of our othe?' 
 senses; — thus, colour acts by motion upon the 
 ** organs of sight, &c. — But I mean another 
 " motion which we perceive subsequent to that ; 
 '^ and this motion bears a resemblance to "human 
 
 « 
 
 manners, both in the rhythm, and in the 
 arrangement oi sounds acute and grave : — not 
 " in their mixture 'y for harmony has no ex- 
 pression\ With the objects of our other 
 
 (( 
 
 <( 
 
 (( 
 
 <t 
 
 (( 
 
 (C 
 
 <( 
 
 (( 
 
 (( 
 
 senses 
 
 ' This passage is remarkable. It is exactly the 
 language of Rousseau — *' 11 n*y a aucun rapport 
 " entre des accords, & les objets qu'on veut peindre, ou 
 '* les passions qu'on vcut exprimer*' [Diet, de Mus. art. 
 IMITATION : see also the last paragraph of art. har- 
 MONiE.] Thus, too, Lord Kaims : — " Harmony, pro- 
 '^ perly so called, though delightful when in perfection, 
 " hath NO RELATION to Sentiment,^* [EL ofCrit. i. 128.] 
 But how is this ? The same intervals are the materials * 
 both of melody and of harmony. These inlcrvals have, 
 each of them, their peculiar eft'ect and character, and it 
 is by the proper choice of them in succession, and by that 
 only, that melody , considered abstractedly from rhythm 
 or measure, becomes expressive, or has any " relation to 
 sentiment.'* Do these intervals, then, lose at once, as by- 
 magic, all tlieir variety and striking difference of 
 character, as soon as they are heard in the simultaneous 
 4 combinations 
 
 On the Word Imitative, as applied to Music, 85 
 
 ** senses this is not the case.— — Now these 
 " motions are analogous to the motion of human 
 ** actions ; and those actions are the ipdex of the 
 ** manners^ 
 
 In this problem, the philosopher plainly attri- 
 butes the expressive power of musical sounds 
 to their succession — to their inotion in measured 
 
 melody, 
 
 - - ' - - , , . 
 
 combinations of }\armony ? If this be the case, the vocal 
 composer is at once relieved from all care of adapting 
 the harmonies of his accompaniment to the expression 
 of the sentiments conveyed in the words ; and it must 
 be matter of perfect indifference whether, for example, 
 he uses the major or minor third — the perfect, or the 
 false, fifth — the common chord, or the chord of the 
 
 diminished seventh, 6cc. With respect to Rousseau, 1 
 
 it is not easy to see how this assertion of his can be recon- 
 ciled with what he has elsewhere said. In his letter 
 Sur la Afusique Franfoisc, he expressly allows that every 
 interval, consonant or dissonant, *< a son caractere par- 
 " ticulier, c*est a dire, une maniere d* affccter Fame qui 
 ** lui est propre.*' — And upon this depend entirely all 
 the admirable obsei-vations he has there made, concern- 
 ing the ill effects which a crowded harmony, and the \ 
 ♦' remplissage'" of chords, have upon m.usical expres- \ 
 sion. — In another article [accord] of his dictionary, 
 this inconsistence is still more striking. One would not 
 diink it possible for the same writer, who in one place . 
 talks of intervals, " propres, par leur dure'te, a exprimcr 
 " Pemportementy la colere, et LEs passions aigues" — 
 and, of — " une harmonie plaintive qiii attendrit le 
 " cceur" to asseit in anodier part of the same 
 
 03 
 
 work, 
 
86 DISSERTATION II. 
 
 melody. He also distinguishes the rhiithmicaly 
 from the melodious^ succession ; for he says 
 expressly, that this motion is '* both in the 
 '* rhythm (or measure^) and in the order or 
 " arrangement of sounds acute and graved — But 
 whence the effect of these motions ? He answers, 
 from their analogy to the motions of human 
 
 actions, 
 
 work, that " il n'y a AUG UN rapport entre des 
 '* accords J et LES passions qu'on veut exprimer,^' 
 
 Had these writers contented themselves with saying, 
 that harmony has much less relation to sentiment than 
 melody, they would not have gone beyond the truth. 
 And the reason of this ditference in the effect of the 
 same intervals, in melody, and in harmony, seems, plainly, 
 this — that in melody, these intervals being formed by 
 successive sounds, have, of course, a much closer, and 
 more obvious relation to the tones and inflexions by which 
 sentiments are expressed m speech, than they can have in 
 harmony, wliqre they are formed by sounds heard together. 
 
 As to the assertion of Aristotle, it seems only to 
 furnish an additional proof that the antienrs did not 
 practise anything like our counterpoint, or continued 
 harmony in differ tnt parts. Where the utmost use of 
 harmony seems to have been confined to unisons, 
 octaves, fourths, and fifths — where at least no discords, 
 (the most expressive materials of modern harmony,) 
 were allowed — we cannot wonder that the ^'mixture** 
 of sounds in consonance should be thoughr to have no 
 relation to sentiment, and that all the power of Music 
 over the passions, should be confined to melodious and 
 rhythmical succession. 
 
 •c. 
 
 X 
 
 On the Word Imitative, as applied to Music, ^7 
 
 actions^, by which the manners and tempers of men 
 are expressed in common life. With respect to 
 the analogy of rhythmic movement to the various 
 motions of men in action, this, indeed, is sutti- 
 cicntly obvious. But Aristotle goes farther, and 
 supposes that there is also such analogy in the 
 motion of melody considered merely as a suc- 
 cession of different tones, without any regard to 
 
 time ; — iv TE twv (p^oyyu)y roc^eif ruv OHEHN x«* 
 
 BAPEXIN. He plainly asserts, that this succession 
 of tones, also, is analogous to the motion of human 
 actions. Now it seems impossible to assign any 
 human action to whicli a succession of sounds and 
 intei^alsy merely as such, has, or can have, any 
 relation or similitude, except the action (if the 
 expression is allowable,) of speaking, which is 
 such a succession. TyTthis be Aristotle s meaning — 
 and I confess myself unable to discover any other 
 — I do not see how we can avoid concluding;, that 
 
 he agreed so far with Plato, as to attribute part, 
 at least, of the effect of Music upon the afi'ections 
 to the analogy between melody and speech. -^ 
 
 This 
 
 \ 
 
 « The original is short, and rather obscure. It says, 
 literally, " these motions are practical motions :** 'si^ktikm 
 titriv. But that I have given Aristotle's true meaning in 
 Biy translation, is evident from a clearer expression in 
 Prob. xxix. which is a shorter solution of the same 
 question. His expression there is — xivn^sig ua-iv [sc. 01 
 foOfxoi KM Tx fji^xri] nSnEP KAI Al UPAsEll. — 
 ** Rhythm and melody are motions, as actisns alsoare^* 
 
 G 4 » 
 
88 DISSERTATION II. 
 
 This analogy is, indeed, a curious subject, and 
 deserves, perhaps, a more thorough examination 
 and developii.ent than it has yet received \ liut 
 I shill not trust myself farther with a speculation 
 so likely to d aw me wide froiiji the proper 
 business of this dissertation, than just to observe, 
 that the w riters above-mentioned, who resolve all 
 the pathetic expression of Music into this prin- 
 ciple, though they assert more than it seems 
 possible to prove, are yet much 7iearer to the 
 truth than those, wlio altogether overlook, or 
 reject, that principle*; a principle, of which, in- 
 stances 
 
 ^ Much light has been flung upon this subject, as far 
 as relates to speech, by Mr. Steele, in his curious and in- 
 genious essay On the Melody and Measure of Speech, But 
 the olject of his enquiry was Speech ^ not Music. His 
 purpose In tracing the resemblance between them, was 
 only to shew that speech is capable of notation -, not to 
 examine how far the eflTect of Music on the passions 
 depends on that resemblance. — His notation is extremely 
 ingenious; but with respect to his project of accom- 
 panying the declamation of Tragedy by a drone bass, 
 I must confe^s that, for my own part, I cinnot reflect 
 without some comfort upon the improbability that it will 
 ever be attempted. 
 
 * After all wing that '* diflFv^rent passions and scnti- 
 '• ments do indeed give different tones and accents to the 
 *' human voice," Dr. Beattie asks — *' but Can the tones 
 *' of the most pathetic melody be said to bear a rcsem- 
 ** blance to the voice of a man or woman speaking from 
 
 " the 
 
 On the Word Imitative^ as applied to Music, 89 
 
 Stances so frequent and so palpable are to be 
 traced in the works of the best masters of vocal 
 composition — in those of Purge ll, for example, 
 of Handel, and above all, of Pergolesi — 
 that I have often wondered it should have been 
 
 neglected 
 
 •< the impulse of passion?'* I can only ansv/er, that to 
 my car, such a resemblance, in the '* most pathetic melody*^ 
 is, often, cren striking : and I have no doubt that in many 
 passages we are affected from a inore delicate and latent 
 degree of that resemblance, suflficient to be/^//, in id 
 cflrect, though not to be perceived. — Dr. Beattie also asks 
 
 i' if there arc not melancholy airs in the sharp key, 
 
 " and chearful ones in the /^f /* "—Undoubtedly, the 
 peculiar and opposite charjcters of these keys, may be 
 variously modified and tempered by the movement, the 
 accent, and the manner of performance, in general : but 
 they can never be destroyed \ much less can they be 
 -changed, as Dr. Beattie supposes, to their very opposites, 
 A chearful air in Txjiat key, I confess, I never heard. If 
 Dr. Beattie thinks the jig in the fifth solo of CorelH 
 chearful, because the movement is allegro, I would beg of 
 him to try an experiment : let him only play the first 
 bar of that jig, (with the bass,) upon a harpsichord, &:c. 
 in G major : and when he has attended to the eflTect of 
 that, let him return to the minor key, and hear the 
 difference. — As to " melancholy airs in a sharp key," the 
 word melancholy is, I think, used with considerable latitude, 
 and comprehends diflferent shades. In the lightest of these 
 shades, it may perhaps be applied to some airs in a major 
 kcv : that key may, by slowness -of movement, softness 
 and smoothness of tone, &c. become solemn, tender, 
 
 touching, 
 
90 DISSERTATION 11. 
 
 neglected by so exact a writer as Mr. Harris, 
 though it lay directly in his way, and, in one 
 • place, he actually touched it as he passed \ He 
 seems, here, to have deserted tliose antients whom, 
 in general, he most delighted to follow. 
 
 But 
 
 touching, &c.— but I cannot say I recollect any air in 
 that key which makes an impression that can properly be 
 called melancholy. But we must be careful in this matter 
 to allow for the magic of association, which no one better 
 - understands, or has described with more feeling and fancy, 
 
 than Dr. Beattie himself. [See p. 173, &c.] With 
 
 respect to '* a transition from the one key to the other" 
 [from major to minor, &c.] '* in the same air, without any 
 " sensible change in the expression," I must also confess 
 
 that it is, to me, totally unknown. — One word more : 
 
 Dr. Beaitie is " at a loss to conceive how it should 
 '* happen, that a musician overwhelmed with sorrow, for 
 '* example, should put together a series of notes, whose 
 " expression is contrary to that of another series which 
 " he had put together when elevated with joy." [p. 180.] 
 — But is not Dr. Beattie equally at a loss to conceive 
 how it should happen that any man overwhelmed with 
 sorrow, should put together, in speaking, (as he certainly 
 does) a series of tones, whose expression is contrary to 
 that of another series which he had put together when 
 elevated Wiihjoy? — T\\t two facts are equally certain, 
 and, even at the first view, so nearly allied, that whoever 
 can account for the one, need not, I am persuaded, be 
 a: the trouble of trying to account separately for the 
 other. 
 
 ^ Ch. ii* § 2. — ^particularly note \ 
 
 \ 
 
 n 
 
 a 
 
 On the fVord Imitative, as applied to Music, 9^1 
 
 But to return to Aristotle, and his treatise on 
 Poetry : — the reader will observe that he does 
 not there assert in general terms, that " Music 
 
 is an Imitative Art,''' but only, that the Music 
 
 of the Jlute and the lyre'' is imitative; and 
 even that, not always, but "j^r the most partK'' 
 I just mention this, because I have observed 
 in many of the commentators, as well as in 
 other writers, a disposition to extend and gener 
 ralize his assertions, bv which thev have some- 
 times involved the subject and themselves in 
 unnecessary difficulties. 
 
 With respect to modern writers, at least, there 
 seems to be a manifest impropriety in denomi- 
 nating Music an Imitative Art, while they con- 
 fine the application of the term Imitative to what 
 they confess to be the slightest and least important 
 of all its powers. In this view, consistence and 
 propriety are, certainly, on the side of Dr. Beattie, 
 Mhen he would " strike Music off the list of 
 Imitative Arts'^y But perhaps even a farther 
 reform may justly be considered as wanting, in 
 our language upon this subject. With what- 
 ever propriety, and however naturally and ob- 
 viously, the arts both of Alusic, and of Poetuy, 
 may be, separately, and occasionally, regarded 
 and spoken of as imitative, yet, when we arrange 
 
 and 
 
 y 
 
 ■ Page 129. 
 
9* DISSERTATION II. 
 
 and class the arts, it seems desirable that a 
 clearer language were adopted. The notion, that 
 Painting, Poetry and Music" are all Arts of 
 Imitation, certainly tends to produce, and has 
 produced, much confusion. That they all, in 
 some sense of the word, or other, imitate, cannot 
 be denied; but the senses of tlie word when 
 applied t^o Poetry, or Music, are so different 
 both from each other, and from that in which it 
 is applied to Painting, Sculpture, and the arts 
 of design in general— the only arts that are 
 obviously and essentially imitative— that when 
 
 we 
 
 ■ What shall we say to those who add Archi- 
 tecture to the list of Imitative Arts P~Ont would 
 not expect to find so absurd a notion adopted by so clear 
 and philosophical a writer as M. d'Alembert. Yet in 
 his Dlscours PreL de VEnclyclop, he not only makes 
 Architecture an imitative art, but even classes it with 
 painting and sculpture. He allows, indeed, that the imi- 
 tation ^* de la belle nature y y est moins frappante & plus 
 " resserree que dans les deux autres arts : " — but how is 
 it any imitation at all? — only because it imitates ♦'par 
 " Tassemblage et I'union des diiFerens corps qu*ellc 
 " emploie" — what? — ^^ T arrangement symmetrique que 
 " la nature observe plus ou moins sensiblement daus 
 " chaque individu, &c." {Mel. de lit. i. 63.] I can only 
 say, that, upon this principle, the joiner, the smith, and 
 the mechanic of almost every kind, have' a fair claim to 
 be elevated to the rank of Imitative Artists : for if a 
 regular building be an imitation of " la belle nature*' 50 is 
 a chair, a table, or a pair of fire-tonp^s. 
 
 On the Word Imitative, as applied to Music, 93 
 
 we include them all, without distinction, under 
 the same general denomination of Imitative 
 Arts, we seem to defeat the only useful purpose 
 of all classing and arrangement ; and, instead 
 of producing order and method in our ideas, 
 produce only emban-assment and confusion. 
 [See Diss. I. p. 3,4.] 
 
 \ 
 
( 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 ON 
 
 P O E T H Y. 
 
 f 
 
 
 
f 97 3 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 p. 101 
 
 - ib. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 GENERAL AND COMPARATIVE VIEW OF 
 POETRY AND ITS PRINCIPAL SPECIES. 
 
 KCT. Inteoductiow - - - . 
 
 I. Poetry a species of Imitation « 
 
 II. Different 7wetf/2^ of Imitation - - 102 
 
 III. Different o^ec/* of Imitation - - 104 
 
 IV. Different 7?z^772wer of Imitation - - 106 
 V. Origin of Poetry ------107 
 
 VI. Its division into serious and ludicrous, 1 09 
 
 VII. Progress of Tragedy - - - - m 
 
 VIII. Object and progress of Comedy - 113 
 
 IX. Epic and Tragic species compared - 114 
 
 11 
 
 PART IL 
 
 OF TRAGEDY. 
 
 / 
 
 !• Definition of Tragedy - - - -116 
 
 II. Deduction of its constituent parts - ib. 
 
 III. Comparative importance of those parts, 1 1 8 
 
 IV. Of the Fable [to Sect. 15.]— it should 
 
 be a perfect whole, and of a certain 
 
 magnitude - 122 
 
 VOL.1. . H V. Uniti/ 
 
SECT. 
 
 V. 
 VI. 
 
 98 CONTENTS, 
 
 Unity of the Fable - - - - p. 1 24 
 Different provinces of the Poet and the 
 Historian --.-.----127 
 
 VII. Episodic ¥ah\es ------129 
 
 VIII. Fables, simple^ or complicated - - 130 
 
 IX. Parts of the Fable, 1. Revolutiom. 
 
 2. Discoveries. 3. Disasters - 131 
 
 X. Parts into wliich Tragedy is divided - 1 33 
 XL What catastrophe, and what character ^ 
 
 best adapted to the purpose of Tra- 
 gedy 135 
 
 XII. Catastrophe should be single^ and that 
 unhappy -.-----136 
 
 XIII. Terror and Pity to be excited by the action, 
 
 not by the decoration, or spectacle 13S 
 
 XIV. Of disastrous incidents and the proper 
 
 management of them - - - - 139 
 
 XV. Of the Manners - - - . 143 
 
 XVI. Of the different kmds of Z)wc(?rerj/, 147 
 
 XVII. Practical directions for the Tragic 
 
 Poet -------- 151 
 
 XVIII. ConipUcation and Developme?it vi the 
 
 plot 154 
 
 XIX. Different kinds of Tragedy - - 155 
 XX. Too great extentofplan to be avoided 157 
 
 XXL Oi the Chorus 158 
 
 XXIL Of the Sentiments - - - - i^jj 
 
 XXIIL Of the Diction, [to the end of this 
 part] --------160 
 
 XXIV. Analysis 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 ^ECT. 
 
 99 
 
 XXIV. Analysis of Diction, or Language, in 
 
 gefieral p. 161 
 
 XXV. Different kinds of tt;ortfe - - - 165 
 XX VL Of Poetic Diction - - . - 170 
 
 PART IIL, 
 
 OF THE EPIC POEM. 
 
 1. In what Epic and Tragic Poetry agree 176 
 IL In what they differ ----- 18a 
 
 III. Epic Narration should be dramatic and 
 
 imitative *------ 182 
 
 IV. Epic admits the wonderful more easily, and 
 
 in a greater degree, than Tragedy - ib. 
 V. Fiction, how made to pass as truth - 1 83 
 VL Of the improbable and absurd - - ] 84 
 
 P A R T IV. 
 
 OF CRITICAL OBJECTIONS, AND THE 
 PRINCIPLES ON WHICH THEY ARE 
 TO BE ANSWERED. 
 
 L Principles on which Poetry is to be de- 
 fended --- 188 
 
 IL Application of the last principle - 190 
 
 III. . of the^r^^ * - - - 191 
 
 IV. Censure of immoral speech, or action — 
 
 how to be examined - - - - 192 
 
 H 2 V. Applicati(?i4 
 
lOO CONTENTS. 
 
 SECT. 
 
 V. Application of the second principle p. 1 93 
 VI. Censure of impossibilitif — farther consi- 
 dered ------ 200 
 
 VII. Inconsistence - - - - 201 
 
 VIII. Improbability and vitious cha- 
 racter ib. 
 
 PART V. 
 
 OF THE SUPERIORITY OF TRAGIC TO 
 
 EPIC POETRY. 
 
 L Objection to Tragedy - 
 
 II. That objection answered 
 
 III. Advantages of Tragedy - 
 
 IV. Preference of Tragedy - 
 
 - - 203 
 
 - - 204 
 
 - - 205 
 
 - - 207 
 
 CoNCLUSrON^ 
 
 ib. 
 
 [ loi ] 
 
 PART I. 
 
 GENERAL AND COMPARATIVE VIEW OF 
 POETRY AND ITS PRINCIPAL SPECIES. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 TiTY design is to treat of Poetry in general, Disiair, 
 -*^^-*^ and of its several species — to inquire, what 
 is the proper effect of each — what construction 
 of ^.foble, or plan, is essential to a good Poem — 
 of what, and how mani/, parts, each species 
 consists ; with whatever else belongs to the same 
 subject : which I shall consider in the order that 
 most naturally presents itself. 
 
 I. 
 
 Epic Poetry, Tragedy, Comedy, Dithyrambics, Poehya 
 as also, for the most part, the Music of the flute, imTrxioN. 
 and of the lyre — all these are, in the most general 
 view of them, imitations'; differing, however, 
 from each other in tk?^e€ respects, according to 
 the different means, the different objects, or the 
 different manner, of their imitation. 
 
 ' The application of this term to Poetry, in general, 
 is considered in Dissertation I. — to Mmic, in Diss. II.— 
 to Dithyrambic Poetry, in note i, 
 
 «3 
 
Different 
 
 MEANS 
 
 of 
 
 Imitation. 
 
 1* 
 
 ii« 
 
 m 
 
 102 General and comfmrative View of [fart I, 
 
 ir. 
 
 For, as men, some through art, and soma 
 through habit, imitate various objects, by meand 
 oi colour and Jigure, and others, again, by voice*; 
 so, with respect to the arts above-mentioned, 
 rhythm, words, and mebdy, are the different meuAs 
 by which, either single, or variously combined, 
 they all produce their imitation. 
 
 For example : in the imitations of the flute, and 
 the lyre, and of any other instruments capable of 
 producing a similar effect — as the syrinjc, or 
 pipe — melody and rhythm only are employed. 
 In those of Dance, rhythm alone, without melody; 
 for there are dancers who, by rhythm applied to 
 gesture ', express manners, passions, and actions. 
 
 The Epopoeia imitates by xvords alone, or by 
 verse^'y and that verse may either be composed 
 of various metres, or confined, according to the 
 
 practice 
 
 * Vocal mimicry ; imitation by tone of voice merely : 
 See Diss. I. towards the end, NoteK — And nqte 2, 
 on this passage. 
 
 ' The expression seems inaccurate ; for it is by^their 
 gestures that they express, or imitate ;— not by the rhythm^ 
 or measured motion, of those gestures. — See note 4, 
 where I have endeavoured to account for Aristotle's 
 expressing himself thus. 
 
 ♦ i. e. by words only, without melody and rhythm ; or, 
 at most, with no other rhythm than is implied in the idea 
 of metre '.--^-■without rhythm in its musical acceptation of 
 time. Sec note 5. 
 
 FART r.] Poetry and its principal Species, 103 
 
 practice hitherto established, to a single species. 
 For we should, otherwise, have no general name 
 which would comprehend the Mimes of Sophron 
 and Xenarchus, and the Socratic dialogues; 
 or Poems in Iambic, Elegiac, or other metres, in 
 which the Epic species of imitation may be con- 
 veyed. Custom, indeed, connecting the poetry or 
 -making with the jjietre, has denominated some 
 Elegiac Poets, i. e. makers * of elegiac verse ; 
 others, Epic Poets ; i. e. makers of hexameter 
 H)erse ; thus distinguishing Poets, not according to 
 the nature of their imitatiort, but according to 
 that of their metre only. For even they, who 
 compose treatises of medicine, or natural phi- 
 losophy, in verse, are denominated Poets; yet 
 Homer and Empedocles have nothing in com- 
 jnon, except their metre y the former, therefore, 
 
 justly 
 , ^^ — . . 
 
 ' It may be necessary to observe, tliat the Greek 
 word, (-sowrnjj — poietes) whence /)<?r/^, and />^fr, is, literally, 
 maker \ and maker, it is well known, was once the 
 current term for poet in our language ; and to write verses, 
 was, to make. Sir Philip Sidney, speaking of the Greek 
 wor(J, says—** wherein, I know not whether by luck 
 ** or wisdom, we Englishmen have met with the Greeks^ 
 ** in calling him Maker" Defense of Poesy, 
 
 So Spenser ; 
 
 The god of shepherds, TityruSy is dead, 
 \Vho taught me, homely, as 1 can, to make. . 
 
 Shep.Cal,]\JSt. 
 H4 
 
1 04> General and cdmparative View ef [parti. 
 
 justly merits the name of Poet ; while the other 
 should rather be called a Physiologist than a 
 Poet. 
 
 So, also, though any one should chuse to convey 
 his imitation in every kind of metre, promiscuously, 
 as CH.EREMON has done in his Centaur, which 
 is a medley of all sorts of verse, it would not im- 
 mediately follow, that, on that account merely, he 
 was entitled to the name of Poet.— But of this, 
 enough. — 
 
 There are, again, other species of Poetry which 
 make use of all the means of imitation, rhythm^ 
 mdody, and ^erse. Such are, the Dithyrambic, 
 that of Nomes, Tragedy, and Comedy : with this 
 difference, however, that in some of these ^ they 
 are employed all together, in others, separately. 
 And such are the differences of these arts with 
 respect to the means by which they imitate. 
 
 III. 
 
 But, as the objects of imitation are the actions 
 
 Different 
 
 OBJECTS 
 
 imiuLn ^^ ^^^' ^^ ^^^^^ "^^" "^"^^ ^^ necessity be either 
 
 good 
 
 * In Dithyrambic, or Bacchic hymns, and in the 
 l^omes, which were also a species of hymns, to Apollo, 
 and other deities, all the means of imitation were em- 
 ployed together, and throughout : inTragedy and Comedy, 
 separately ; some of them in one part of the drama, and 
 some in another. (See Panll. 5fr/. i.) fn the choral 
 part, however, at least, if no where else, all, melody, 
 rhythm and words, must probably have been used at tnce^ 
 as in the hymns. 
 
 PARTI.] Poetry and its principal Species, 105 
 
 good or bad, (for on this does c//flr^c/er principally 
 depend ; the manners being, in all men, most 
 strongly marked by virtue and vice,) it follows, 
 that we can only represent men, either as better 
 tlian they actually are, or worse, or exactly as they 
 are : just as, in Painting, the pictures of Polyg- 
 9iotus were above the common level of nature; 
 those of Pauson, below it; those of Dio?7ysius, 
 faithful likenesses. 
 
 Now it is evident that each of the imitations 
 above-mentioned will admit of these differences, 
 and become a different kind of imitation, as it 
 imitates objects that differ ia this respect. This 
 may be the case with Dancing ; with the Music 
 of the flute, and of the lyre ; and, also, with the 
 Poetry which employs words, or verse only, witli- 
 out melody, or rhythm : thus, Homer has drawn 
 men superior to what they are 7; Ckophon, as 
 they are ; Hegemon the Thasian, the inventor of 
 
 parodies^ 
 
 ^ Superior, that is, in courage, strength, wisdom, 
 prudence, &c. — in any laudable, useful, or admirable 
 quality, whether such as we denominate moral, or not. 
 If superiority of moral character only were meant, the 
 assertion would be false. — It is necessary to remember 
 here, the wide sense in which the antients used the terms 
 virtue, vice— good, hod, &c. See note 19.— The diffe- 
 rence between moral, and poetical, perfection of character, 
 is well explained by Dr. Beattie, Essay on Poetry, 6cc. 
 Part I. ch. 4. — The heroes of Homer, as he well observes, 
 are ^' finer animals'' than we are; (p. 69.) not better men. 
 
I06 General and comparative View of [parti, 
 
 parodies, and Nicockares, the author of the 
 Deliady worse than they are. 
 
 So, again, with respect to Dithyrambics, and 
 Nomes: in these, too, the imitation may be as 
 diflferent as that of the Persians, by TimotheuSy 
 and the Cyclops, by Philoxenus. 
 
 Tragedy, also, and Comedy, are distinguished 
 in the same manner ; the aim of Comedy being, 
 to exhibit men worse than we find them, that of 
 Tragedy, better. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Different There remains the third difference — that of the 
 of manner in Avhich each of these objects may be 
 imitated. For the Poet, imitating the same object^ 
 and by the same means, may do it either in 
 NARRATION — and that, again, either personatincf 
 other characters, as Homer does, or, in his own 
 person throughout, without change : — or, he may 
 imitate by representing all his characters as real, 
 and employed in the very action itself. 
 
 These, then, are the three differences by which, 
 as I said in the' beginning, all imitation is dis- 
 tinguished ; those of the imam, the object, and 
 the manner : so that Sophocles is, in one respect, 
 an imitator of the same kind with Homer, as 
 elevated characters arc the objects of both; iq 
 another respect, of tl lO same kind with Aristophanes^ 
 as both imitate in the way of action ; whence, 
 according to some, the application of the term 
 
 Dvavia 
 
 > art I.] Poetry and its principal Species." 107 
 
 Drama [i. e. action] to 3uch Poems. Upon this Drama. 
 it is that the Dorians ground their claim to the ?olTrtg 
 invenxion both of Tragedy and Comedy. For 'l';.!:r 
 Comedy is claimed by the Alegarians^ both by tieni^i!!* 
 those of Greece, who contend tliat it took its 
 rise in their popular government ; and by those 
 of Sicily, among whom the poet Epicharmus 
 flourished long before Chionides and Magnes : 
 and Tragedy, also, is claimed by some of the 
 Dorians of Peloponnesus.— In support of these 
 claims they argue from the words themselves. 
 They allege, that the Doric word for a village is 
 COME, the Attic, demos ; and that Comedians 
 were so called, not from Comazein— /o revel— 
 but from their strolling about the Comai, or 
 milages^ before they were tolerated in the city. 
 They say, farther, tliat, to do, or act, they express 
 by the word dhan ; the Athenians by prattein. 
 
 And thus much as to the differences of imi- 
 tation--how many, and what, they are. 
 
 V. 
 
 Poetry, in general, seems to have derived its 0n,orM 
 origin from ivfo causes, each of them natural. pj^[, 
 
 1. To imitate is instinctive in man from his 
 infancy. By this he is distinguished from other 
 animals, that he is, of all, the most imitative, and 
 
 through 
 
 • Who were all of Doric oiWxn, 
 
 * A (krivation very honourable to itinerant players. 
 
 ^ 
 
lo8 General and cdmparative View of [f Art !• 
 
 through this instinct receives his earliest edu- 
 cation*. All men, likewise, naturally receive 
 pleasure from imitation. This is evident from 
 what we experience in viewing the works of imi- 
 tative art ; for in them, we contemplate with plea- 
 sure, and with the ^(?re pleasure, the more exactly 
 they are imitated, such objects as, if real, we 
 could not see without pain ; as, the figures of 
 the meanest and most disgusting animals, dead 
 bodies, and the like. And the reason of this is, 
 that to learrij is a natural pleasure, not confined 
 to philosophers, but common to all men ; with 
 this difference only, that tlie multitude partake of 
 it in a more transient and compendious manner. 
 Hence the pleasure they receive from a picture: 
 in viewing it they learn\ they infer, they discover, 
 what every object is : that this, for instance, is 
 such a particular man, &c. For if we suppose 
 the object represented to be something which the 
 spectator had never seen, his pleasure, in that 
 case, will not arise from the imitation, but from 
 the workmanship, the colours, or some such 
 cause. 
 
 Imitation, then, being thus natural to us, and, 
 7ndly, MELODY and rhythm! being also natural, 
 
 (for 
 
 * See Dr. Beattie's Essay on Poetry, &c. Part l,ch, 6. 
 
 This is explained in note 22. 
 t " Rhythm differs from metre, in as mucli as 
 '* RHYTHM \$ proportion, applied to any motion whatever-^ 
 ^ " METRE 
 
 FART I.] Poetry and its principal Species. 109 
 
 (for as to metre, it is plainly a species of rhythm,) 
 those persons, in whom, originally, these pro- 
 pensities were the strongest, were naturally led 
 to rude and extemporaneous attempts, which, 
 gradually improved, gave birth to Poetry. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But this Poetry, following the diiierent cha- its divUiott 
 racters of its authors, naturally divided itself into '."!'.- 
 two different kinds. They who were of a grave s.'l'Ls 
 and lofty spirit, chose, for their imitation, the .J^ot uts. 
 actions and the adventures of ^&m/^rf characters: 
 while Poets of a lighter turn, represented those 
 of the vitims and contemptible. And these com- 
 posed, originally, Siitires ; as the former did 
 Hymns and Encomia. 
 
 Of the lighter kind, we have no Poem anterior 
 to the time of Homer, though many such, in all 
 probability, there were; but,/r^ hia time, we 
 
 have ; 
 
 ' METRE is proportion, applied to the motion of words ' 
 ' SPOKEN. Thus, in the drumming of a march, or 
 ' the dancing of a hornpipe, there is rhythm, though n^ 
 ' metre-, in Dryden\ celebrated Ode there is metre as 
 ' welias RHYTHM, because the Poet with the rhythm has 
 ' associated certain words. And hence it follows, that, 
 
 ' though ALL METRE isRHYTHM, yet ALL RHYTHM 
 
 • is NOT METRE." Harrises PhiloL Inquiries, p. 67.- 
 where it is also observed, very truly, that " no English 
 " word expresses rhythmus better tlian the word, timer 
 P. 69. note. 
 
 e 
 
Io8 General and cdmparative View of [fart T. 
 
 through this instinct receives his earliest edu- 
 cation* All men, likewise, naturally receive 
 pleasure from imitation. This is evident from 
 what we experience in viewing the works of imi- 
 tative art ; for in them, we contemplate with plea- 
 sure, and with the Twore pleasure, the more exactly 
 they are imitated, such objects as, if real, we 
 could not see w ithout pain ; as, the figures of 
 the meanest and most disgusting animals, dead 
 bodies, and the like. And the reason of this is, 
 that to learn, is a natural pleasure, not confined 
 to philosophers, but common to all men ; with 
 this difference only, that tlie multitude partake of 
 it in a more transient and compendious manner. 
 Hence the pleasure they receive from a picture: 
 in viewing it they learn\ they infer, they discover^ 
 what every object is : that this, for instance, is 
 such a particular man, &c. For if we suppose 
 the object represented to be something which the 
 spectator had never seen, his pleasure, in that 
 case, will not arise from the imitatio?7, but from, 
 the workmanship, the colours, or some such 
 cause. 
 
 Imitation, then, being thus natural to us, and, 
 2na/j/, MELODY and rhythmI being also natural, 
 (for 
 
 * See Dr. Beattie's Essay on Poetry, &c. Part l.c/i. 6. 
 
 * This is explained in note 22. 
 
 t " Rhythm differs from metre, in as mucli as 
 
 " RHYTHM \s proportion, applied to any motion whatever \ 
 
 "2 " METRE 
 
 r ART I.] Poetry and its principal Species. 109 
 
 (for as to nwtre, it is plainly a species of rhythm,) 
 those persons, in whom, originally, these pro- 
 pensities were the strongest, were naturally led 
 to rude and extemporaneous attempts, which, 
 gradually improved, gave birth to Poetry. 
 
 s 
 
 VI. 
 
 But this Poetry, following the diflerent cha- its ^Mo^, 
 racters of its authors, naturally divided itself into '."1'.^' 
 two different kinds. They who were of a grave s.t'Ls 
 and lofty spirit, chose, for their imitation, the Jot Its. 
 actions and the adventures of e&r^iTerf characters: 
 while Poets of a lighter turn, represented those 
 of the vitims and contemptible. And these com- 
 posed, originally. Satires ; as the former did 
 Hj/mris and Encomia. 
 
 Of the lighter kind, we have no Poem anterior 
 to the time of Homer, though many such, in all 
 probability, there were; hut, from his time, we 
 
 have; 
 
 ,<» 
 
 it 
 
 METRE is proportion, applied to the motion of words ' 
 " SPOKEN. Thus, in the drumming of a march, or 
 '' the dancing of a hornpipe, there is rhythm, though n^ 
 " metre-, in Dryden\ celebrated Ode there is metre as 
 well as RHYTHM, because the Poet with the rhythm has 
 associated certain words. And hence it follows, that, 
 
 though ALL METRE isRHYTHM, yet ALL RHYTHM 
 
 " is NOT METRE." Harris's FhiloL Inquiries, p. 67.- 
 where it is also observed, very truly, that " no English 
 " word expresses rhythmus better than the word, timer 
 P. 69. note. 
 
 ii 
 
 4( 
 
 ti 
 
 u 
 
t Id General and comparative FievJ 0/ [p Alit t; 
 
 have ; as, his Margites, and others of the same 
 species, in which the Iambic was introduced as 
 the most proper measure ; and hence, indeed, the 
 name of Iambic^ because it was the measure in 
 U'hich tliey used to iambize, [i.e* to satirize ^1 
 each other. 
 
 And thus these old Poets were divided into two 
 classes — those who used the heroic \ and those 
 who used the iambic, verse. 
 
 And as, in^he^er/o^/^kind, Homer alone may 
 be said to deserve the name of Poet, not only 
 on account of his other excellences, but also 
 of the dramatic^ spirit of his imitations ; so was 
 he likewise the first who suggested the idea of 
 Comedy, by substituting ridicule for invective, 
 and giving that ridicule a dramatic cast : for his 
 Margites bears the same analogy to Comedy, 
 €is his Iliad and Odyssey to Tragedy. — But 
 when Tragedy and Comedy, had once made their 
 appearance, succeeding Poets, according to the 
 turn of their genius, attached themselves to the 
 one, or the other, of these new species : the 
 lighter sort, instead of Iambic, became Cof?uc 
 Poets; the graver, Tragic, instead of Heroic: 
 and that, on account of the superior dignity and 
 higher estimation of these latterybr;;^ of Poetry. 
 
 Whetlier 
 
 ' i. c. hexameters, composed of dactyls and spondees, 
 which were called heroic (ecu 
 
 * Sec Part III. Sect. 3. 
 
 ^Akt I.] Poetrj and its principal Species. ttt 
 
 Whether Tragedy has now, with respect to it^ 
 constituent parts ^ received the utmost improve- 
 ment of which it is capable, considered both in 
 itself, and relatively to the theatre, is a question 
 that belongs not to this place. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Both Tragedy, then, and Comedy, havin<t ori- p«o««e«* 
 ginated in a rude and unpremeditated manner — Tragedt. 
 the first from the Dithyrambic hymns, the other 
 from those Phallic songs\ which, in many cities, 
 remain still in use— each advanced gi^adually 
 towards perfection, by such successive improve- 
 ments as were most obvious. 
 
 Tragedy, after various changes, reposed at 
 length in the completion of its proper form. 
 jEschylus first added a second actor^; he also 
 
 abridged 
 
 * i.e. the fable, the manners, the sentiments, &c. 
 
 See Part II. Sect. 2. 
 
 Of the licentious and obscene religious ceremony 
 here alluded to, the reader, who has any curiosity about 
 It, may find some account in Potter's Jntiquities of 
 Greece, voL'u p. 383. 
 
 ^ The first who introduced a single actor, or speaker 
 between those choral songs which originally, we are told, 
 formed the whole of Tragedy, i. e. according to the most 
 usual derivation of the word, t/ie goat-slng'wg, was 
 Thespis, whom Aristotle pas«;es over in silence. The 
 itory so often told, of him and his theatrical u^^a^^//, ,'t 
 
 cannot 
 
112 General and comparative View of [parti, 
 
 abridged the chorus, and made the dialogue the 
 principal part of Tragedy. Sophocles increased 
 the number of actors to three, and added the 
 decoration of painted scenery. It was also late 
 before Tragedy threw aside the short and simple 
 fable, and ludicrous language, of its satyric ori- 
 ginal, and attained its proper magnitude and 
 dignity. The Iambic measure was then first 
 adopted : for, originally, the Trochaic tetrameter 
 was made use of, as better suited to the satyric ' 
 ^ ^ " and 
 
 cannot be necessary to repeat. — Ey introducing a second 
 actor, ^schylus, in fact, introduced the dialo^e\ though 
 it seems probable that the single speaker of Thespis told 
 his tale, in part, at least, dramatically. See BrumofsDisc. 
 sur rOrig. de la Trag. Sect.m. — Theatre des Grecs, 
 Tome i. 
 
 • Satyric, from the share which those fantastic beings 
 called Satyrs, the companions and play-fellows of Bacchus, 
 had in the earliest Tragedy, of which they formed the 
 chorus. Joking, and dancing, werexssential attributes of 
 these rustic semi-deities. Hence, the " ludicrous language,'' 
 and the " dancing genius " of the old Tragedy, to which 
 the TROCHAIC or running metre here spoken of was 
 peculiarly adapted ; being no other than this : 
 
 " Jolly mortals, fill your glasses, noble deeds are done 
 by wine." 
 
 The reader will not confound satyric with satiric ; nor 
 the Greek satyric drama, with the satire of Roman origin. 
 See Harris's Phil, Arrang. p. 460. note. Or, Dacier*s 
 Preface to Horace's Satires. The two words arc of 
 liiEFerent derivations. 
 
 PART I.] Poetry and its principal Species. i j • 
 
 and saltatorial genius of the Poem at that 
 time ; but when the dialogue was formed, nature 
 Itself pointed out the proper metre. For the 
 iambic is, of all metres, the most colloquial ; as 
 appears evidently from this fact, that our com- 
 mon conversation frequently falls into iambic 
 verse; sddom into hexameter, and only when 
 
 we depart from the usual melody of speech. 
 
 Episodes were, also, multiplied, and every other 
 part of the drama successively improved and 
 polished. 
 
 But of this enough : to enter into a minute 
 detail would, perhaps, be a task of some length. ' 
 
 VII r. 
 
 Comedy, as was said before, is an imitation Object 
 t)f bad characters ; bad, not with respect to PRoeHEs, 
 every sort of vice, but to the ridiculous comLt. 
 only, as being a species of turpitude or deformity ; 
 since it may be defined to be— a fault or de- 
 formity of such a sort as is neither painful nor 
 destructive. A ridiculous face, for example, is 
 something ugly and distorted, but not so as to 
 cause pain. 
 
 The successive improvements of Tragedy, and 
 the respective authors of them, have not escaped 
 our knowledge; but those of Comedy, from the 
 little attention that was paid to it in its origin, 
 remain in obscurity. For it was not till late, that 
 
 ^^^•^- I Comedy 
 
-s 
 
 1 14 General and comparative View of [part I* 
 
 Comedy was authorized by the magistrate, and 
 carried on at the public expence : it was, at first, 
 a private and voluntary exhibition. From the 
 time, indeed, when it began to acquire some de- 
 gree of form, its Poets have been recorded ; but 
 who first introduced masks, or prologues, or aug- 
 mented the number of actors — these, and other 
 particulars of the same kind, are unknown. 
 
 Epicharmus and Phormis were the first who 
 invented comic fables. This improvement, there- 
 fore, is of Sicilian origin. But, of Athenian 
 Poets, Crates was the first who abandoned the 
 Iambic ' form of comedy, and made use of in* 
 vented and general stories, or fables. 
 
 PARTI.] Poetry and its principal Species, lie 
 
 of Epic action is indefinite. This, however, at 
 first, was equally the case with Tragedy itself. 
 
 Of their constituent parts, some are common 
 to both, some peculiar to Tragedy. He, there- 
 fore, who is a judge of the beauties and defects 
 of Tragedy, is, of course, equally a judge with 
 respect to those of Epic Poetry: for all the 
 parts of the Epic poem are to be found in 
 Tragedy ; not all those of Tragedy, in the Epic 
 poem. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Epic Epic Poetry agrees so far with Tras^ic, as it is 
 
 and ... * 
 
 Tragic an imitation of great characters and act ions y by 
 
 Species 
 
 coMPAiiED. means of words : but in this it differs, that it 
 makes use of only one kind of metre throughout; 
 and that it is mtrrative. It also differs in length : 
 for Tragedy endeavours, as far as possible, to 
 confine its action within the limits of a single 
 revolution of the sun, or nearly so; but the time 
 
 of 
 
 • Iambic y i. e. satirical, and personally so, like die old 
 Iambi, invectives, or lampoons, of which Aristode speaks 
 above. Sect, 6. and fropi which the Iambic metre, which 
 is not here alluded to, took its name. 
 
 \\ 
 
 l2 
 
[ "6 1 
 
 DEFINI- 
 TION of 
 
 Tragedj, 
 
 Ded action 
 of ita con- 
 stituent' 
 Vakts, 
 
 P A R T II. 
 
 OF TRAGEDY. 
 I. 
 
 ^\ F the species of -Poetry which imitates in 
 ^^ hexameters, and of Comedy, we shall speak 
 hereafter. Let us now consider Tragedy; 
 collecting, first, from what has been already said, 
 its true and essential definition. 
 
 Tragedy, then, is an imitation of some action 
 that is important, ejitire^ and of a proper magni- 
 tude— by language, embellished and rendered 
 pleasurable, but by different means in different 
 parts— in the war/, not of narration, but of 
 action — effecting through pity and terroj^ the 
 correction and rejinement of such passions. 
 
 By pleasurable language^ I mean a language 
 that has the embellishments of rhythm, melody, 
 and metre. And I add, by different means in 
 different parts, because in some parts metre alone 
 is employed, in others, melody. 
 
 ir. 
 
 Now as Tragedy imitates by acting, the 
 DECORATION*, in the first place, must neces- 
 ^ sarily 
 
 * Decoration— WitrdXly, the decoration of the spectacle, 
 •r sight. In other places it is called the spectacle, 
 
 or 
 
 PART II.] , Of Tragedy. uy 
 
 sarily be ojie of its parts : then the Melopceia, 
 (or Music',) and the diction; for these last 
 include the means of tragic imitation. By diction, 
 I mean the metrical composition f. The meaning 
 of Mebpceia is obvious to every one. 
 
 Again— Tragedy being an imitation of an 
 action, and the persons employed in that action 
 being necessarily characterized by their manners 
 and their sentiments, since it is from these that 
 actions themselves derive their character, it 
 follows, that there must also be, manners, and 
 SENTIMENTS, as the two causes of actions, and, 
 consequently, of the happiness, or.unhappiness, 
 of all men. The imitation of the action is the 
 fable: for by fable I now mean the contexture 
 of incidents, or the plot. By manners, I mean, 
 
 whatever 
 
 or sight only— 0^/5. It comprehends scenery, dresses — 
 the whole visible apparatus of the th^ \tr^. I do not 
 know any single English word, that an^ ers fully to the 
 Greek word. 
 
 • Melopa^ia-^VitCTBlly, the making, or the composition, 
 of the Music; as we use Epopaeia, or according to the 
 French termination, which we have naturalized. Epopee, 
 to signify epic poetry, or epic-making, in general.— I might 
 hive rendered it, at once, the music ; but that it would 
 Iiave appeared ridiculous to observe, of a word s6 familiar 
 to us, even that *' its meaning is obvious,'' 
 
 t Not the versif cation, but merely the metrical 
 expression^-<he language of the verse. This si plain from 
 the clearer definition, p. 1 21, 
 
 13 
 
Compara- 
 tive IM- 
 PORTANCE 
 
 of the 
 Parts. 
 
 Il8 Of Tragedy. [part ii. 
 
 whatever marks the characters of the persons. 
 By sentiments^ whatever they say^ whether 
 proving any thing, or delivering a general senti- 
 ment, &c.* 
 
 Hence, all Tragedy must necessarily contain 
 sia; parts, which, together, constitute its peculiar 
 character, or yei/7///y ; fable, manners, dic- 
 tion, SENTIMENTS, DECORATION, and MUSIC. 
 
 Of these parts, two relate to the mea72s, one to 
 the manner, and three to the oi;ec/, of imitation*. 
 And these are all. These specific parts\ if we 
 may so call them, have been employed by most 
 Poets, and are all to be found in [almost] every 
 Tragedy. 
 
 III. 
 
 But of all these part^ the most important is 
 the combination of incidents, or, the fable. 
 Because Tragedy is an imitation, not of men, 
 but of actions^ — of life, of happiness and un- 
 
 happiness : 
 
 ♦ For a fuller account of this part of Tragedy, see 
 Sect, 22. 
 
 ♦ Afusic, and diction, to the means ^ which are words, 
 melody, and rhythm : ^oration, to the manner of imita- 
 ting — ^i. e. by representation and action : fable, manners, 
 and sentiments, to tl^ objects of imitation — i, e. men, and 
 their actions, characters, &c. 
 
 ' i. c. such as arc essential to Tragedy, and, together, 
 constitute its species, 
 
 ♦ See the Diss. On the Provinces of thi Drama, ch, i. 
 [Dr. Kurd's Hor. vol.ii.] 
 
 (I 
 
 r 
 
 PART II.] Of Tragedy. 119 
 
 happiness : for happiness consists in action, and 
 the supreme good itself, the very end of life, is 
 action of a certain kind^ — not quality. Now the 
 manners of men constitute only their quality or 
 characters ; but it is by their actions that they 
 are happy, or the contrary. Tragedy, therefore, 
 does not imitate action, /or the sake of imitating 
 manners, but in the imitation of action, that of 
 manners is of course involved. So that the action 
 and the fable are the end of Tragedy ; and in 
 every thing the end is of principal importance. 
 
 Again — Tragedy cannot subsist without tfC/2o;2; 
 without manners it may : the Tragedies of most 
 modern Poets have this defect; a defect common, 
 indeed, among Poets in general. As among 
 Painters also, this is the case with Zeuxis, com- 
 pared with PoLYGNOTUS : the latter excels in 
 the expression of the manners; there is no such 
 expression in the pictures of Zeuxis. 
 
 Farther — suppose any one to string together a 
 number of speeches in which the manners are 
 strongly marked, the language and the sentiments 
 well turned ; this will not be sufficient to produce 
 the proper effect of Tragedy : that end will much 
 
 rather 
 
 ' 1. e. virtuous action. — The doctrine of Aristode 
 was, that the greatest happiness, the summum bonum or end 
 of life, consisted in virtuous energies and actions ; not in 
 virtue, considered merely as an internal habit, dipositipn, 
 or quality f of mind, 
 
 14 
 
^^^ Of Tragedy. [part ii. 
 
 rather be answered by a piece, defective in 
 each of Uiose particulars, but furnished with 
 a proper lable and contexture of incidents. 
 Just as in painting, the most brilliant colours, 
 spread at random and without design, ^will give 
 far less pleasure than the simplest outline of a 
 figure. 
 
 Add to this, that those parts of Tragedy, by 
 means of which it becomes most interesting and 
 affecting, are parts of the fable; I mean, r evolu- 
 tions, and discoveries^. 
 
 As a farther proof, adventurers in Tragic 
 writing are sooner able to arrive at excellence in 
 the language, and the manners, than in the con- 
 struction of a plot ; as appears from almost all 
 our earlier Poets. 
 
 The fable, then, is the principal part, the soul, 
 as it were, of Tragedy,- and the manners are 
 next in rank : Tragedy being an imitation of an 
 action, and through that, principally, of the 
 agents. 
 
 In the third place stand the sentiments. 
 To this part it belongs, to say such things as are 
 true and proper ; which, in the dialogue, depends 
 on the Political and Rhetorical arts: for, the 
 
 antients 
 
 * These are explained afterwards, Sect, 9. 
 
 "* The reader, here, must not think of our modern 
 folitics.— The political, or civil art, or science, was, in 
 
 Aristodc*s 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 PART II.] 0/ Tragedy. 12 1 
 
 antients made their characters speak in the style 
 of political and popular eloquence ; but now, the 
 rhetorical manner prevails. 
 
 The fnanners are, whatever manifests the dis- 
 position of the speaker. There are speeches, 
 therefore, which are without manners, or cha- 
 racter ; as not containing any thing by which the 
 propensities or aversions of the person who de- 
 livers them can be known. The sentiments com- 
 prehend whatever is said; whether proving any 
 thing, affirmatively, or negatively, or expressing 
 some general reflection, &c. 
 
 Fourth, in order, is the diction ; that is, as 
 I have already said, the compression of the senti- 
 ments bi/ words ; the power and effect of which 
 is the same, whether in verse or prose. 
 
 Of the remaining two parts, the music stands 
 next; of all the pleasurable accompaniments 
 and embellishments of Tragedy, the most de- 
 lightful. 
 
 The DECORATION has, also, a great effect, 
 but, of all the parts, is most foreign to the 
 art. For the power of Tragedy is felt without 
 representation, and actors; and the beauty 
 
 of 
 
 Aristotle's view, of wide extent, and high importance. 
 It comprehended etAics and eloquence, or the art of public 
 speaking ; every thing, in short, that concerned the well- 
 being of a state,'-^Ste note 57. 
 
 ?! 
 
'^^ ^ Tragedy. [PART ir. 
 
 of the decorations depends more on the art of 
 the mechanic, than on that of the Poet^ 
 
 IV. 
 
 Of the 
 Fable— 
 
 [to 
 S^cL 15.J 
 
 It should 
 be a 
 
 YER 
 
 These things being thus adjusted, let us go on 
 to examine in what manner the fable should be 
 constructed ; since this is the first, and most im- 
 portant part of Tragedy. 
 
 Now wc have defined Tragedy to be an 
 imitation of an action that is complete and 
 entire; and that has also a certain magiutude; 
 for a thing may be ejttire, and a whole, and yet 
 not be of any magnitude ^. 
 
 1. By entire, I mean that which has a Ae- 
 Whq" - S^^^^^Sy a middle, and an end, A beginning, is 
 that which does not, necessarily, suppose any 
 thing before it, but which requires something to 
 follow it. An end, on the contrary, is that which 
 supposes something to precede it, either neces- 
 sarily, or probably ; but which nothing is required 
 to follow. A middle, is that which both supposes 
 something to precede, and requires something to 
 • ^ follow. The Poet, therefore, who would con-^ 
 
 struct 
 
 " ■ 
 
 ^ • The reader will find a usfeful comment on this, and 
 
 the two preceding sections, in the PkilaUg. Inquiries^ 
 Part 11. ch. vi. viii. ix. xi. 
 
 » i. e. — not be large. — Magnitude is here used in its 
 proper and relative sense, of greatness j and with refe- 
 rence to some standard. 
 
 . X.' 
 
 1 ^-^ 
 
 PART II.] Of Tragedy. ,23 
 
 Struct his fable properly, is not at liberty to 
 begin, or end, where he pleases, but must con- 
 form to these definitions. 
 
 2. Again : whatever is beautiful, whether it -and or 
 be an animal, or any otli^r thing composed of MaTn^ 
 diflTerent parts, must not only have those parts ^''''^* 
 arranged in a certain manner, but must also be 
 of a certain mag7iitude; for beauty consists in 
 magnitude and order. Hence it is that no very 
 minute animal can be beautiful ; the eye compre- 
 hends the whole too instantaneously to distinguish 
 and compare the parts :— neither, on the con- 
 trary, can one of a prodigious size be beautiful ; 
 because, as all its parts cannot be seen at once, 
 the xvhole, the U7iity' of object, is lost to the 
 spectator; as it would be, for example, if he 
 were surveying an animal of many miles in 
 length. As, therefore, in animals, and other 
 objects, a certain magnitude is requisite, but that 
 magnitude must be such as to present a whole 
 easili/ comprehended by the eye ; so, in the fable, a 
 certain length is requisite, but that length must be 
 
 such 
 
 The unity here spoken of, it must be remembered, 
 IS not absolute and simple, but relative and compound, 
 unity 5 a unity consisting of different parts, the relation 
 of which to each other, and to the whole, is easily per- 
 ceived at one view. On this depends the perception of 
 beauty in form.-^ln objects too extended, you may be 
 said to have parts, but no w/iole : in very minute objects 
 a w/iole, but no parts. 
 
 
/ 
 
 Ukity 
 
 of 
 
 the Fable. 
 
 124 Of Tragedy. [PART ir. 
 
 such as to present a whole easilx) comprehended by 
 the mermry. 
 
 With respect to the measure of this length— if 
 referred to actual representation in the dramatic 
 contests, it is a matter foreign to the art itself : 
 for if a hundred Tragedies were to be exhibited 
 in concurrence, the length of each performance 
 must be regulated by the hour-glass ; a practice 
 of which, it is said, there have formerly been 
 instances. But, if we determine this measure by 
 the nature of the thing itself, the more extensive 
 the fable, consistently with the clear and easy 
 comprehension of the whole, the more beauti- 
 ful will it be, with respect to magnitude. In 
 general, we may say, that an action is sufficiently 
 extended, when it is long enough to admit of 
 a change of fortune, from .happy to unhaf^y, 
 or the reverse, brought about by a succes' 
 sion, necessary or probable, of well-cojinected 
 incidents. 
 
 V. 
 
 A fable is not one, as some conceive it to be, 
 merely because the hero of it is one. For num- 
 berless events happen to one man, many of which 
 are such as cannot be connected into one event : 
 and so, likewise, there are many actions of one 
 man which cannot be connected into any owe ^fc/ic/;/. 
 Hence appears the mistake of all those Poets 
 who have composed Herculeids, Theseids, 
 
 and 
 
 >A]^T lij Of Tragedy. ^^ 
 
 and other Poems of that kind. They conclude 
 that because Hercuks was one, so also must be 
 the fable of which he is the subject. But Homer, 
 among his many other excellences, seems also to 
 have been perfectly aware of this mistake, either 
 from art or genius. For when he composed his 
 Odyssey, he did not introduce all the events of 
 his hero's life,— such, for instance, as the wound 
 he received upon Parnassus *— his feigned mad- 
 ness^ when the Grecian army was assembling, 
 &c.— events, not connected, either by necessary 
 pr probable consequence, with- each other; but 
 he comprehended those only which have relation 
 to one action ', for such we call that of the ' 
 Odyssey.— kwd. in the same manner he composed 
 his Iliad'', 
 
 ^ ^' 
 
 * Thh incident is, however, related, and at consider- 
 able length, in the xixth book of the Odyssey, (v. 563 of 
 Pope's translation) but digressively, and incidentally;- it 
 made no essential part of his general plan.— ^t^ Sect. 17. 
 ^ A ridiculous story.—" To avoid going to the Trojan 
 « war, Ulysses pretended to be mad ; and, to prove his 
 " insanity, went to plough with an ox and a horse-, but 
 " Palamedcs, in order to detect him, laid his infant son, 
 *' Telemachus, in the way of the plough; upon which - 
 '^ Ulysses immediately stopped, and thereby proved 
 " himself to be in his right senses."— (/%/««i, &c.) 
 
 * Or, according to a different, and perhaps preferable, 
 reading, thus .—'< but he planned his Odyssey, as he also 
 '* did his Iliad, upon an action that is one \i\ the sense 
 '* here explained.'VSee the note. 
 
126 
 
 Of Tragedy. 
 
 [part ir. 
 
 K^, therefore, in other mimetic arts, mt imita- 
 tion^ is an imitation of one thing, so here,'^ the 
 fable, being an imitation of an action, should be 
 an imitation of an action that is one, and entire ; 
 the parts of it being so connected, that if any 
 one of them be either transposed or taken away^ 
 the whole will be destroyed, or changed : for 
 whatever may be either retained, or omitted, 
 without making any sensible difference, is not, 
 properly, a part ^. 
 
 VI. It 
 
 PART 11.] 
 
 ' i. c. one imitative work. Thus one picture repre- 
 sents, or should represent, but one thing ;^a single object, 
 or a single action, &c. So, every Poem, (the Orlando 
 Furioso as much as the Iliad,) is one imitation— ont 
 imitative work, and should imitate one TLCixon, in Aristode's 
 sense oi unity, like the Poems of Homer; not a number 
 ©factions unconnected with each other, or connected 
 merely by tiieir common relation to one person, as in the 
 Theseids, &:c. or to one time, as in the Poem of Ariosto; 
 or, by their resemblance merely, as in the Metamorphoses 
 of Ovid. 
 
 • « The painter will not enquire what things may be 
 '' admitted without much censure. He will not think 
 *' it enough to shew that they may be there, he will shew 
 *' that they must be there ; that their absence would 
 
 *' render his picture maimed and defective, ** They 
 
 '' should make a part of that whole which would be, im- 
 ** perfect without them.'\ 
 
 Sir J. Reynolds, Disc, on Painting, p, io6. 
 
 Of Tragedy. 
 
 VI. 
 
 127 
 
 It appears, farther, from what has been said, ©iffert^nt 
 that it is not the Poet's province to relate such ^"fllT 
 things as have actually happened, but such as ^^'L 
 might have happened-such rs nre possible, ac- ""'^•^^'^• 
 cording either to probable, or necessary, conse- 
 quence. 
 
 For it is not by writing in 'cerse, or prose, that 
 the Historian and the Poet are distinguished: the 
 work of Herodotus might be versified ; but it 
 would still be a species of history, no less with 
 metre, than without. They are distinguished by 
 this, that the one relates what has been, the other 
 what might be. On this account, Poetry is a more 
 philosophical, and a more excellent thing, than 
 History : for Poetry is chiefly conversant about 
 general ivnih; Hx^iovy, ^hoxxt particular. In 
 what manner, for example, any person of a 
 certain character would speak, or act, probably, 
 or necessarily-^ this is general; and this is the 
 object of Poetry, even while it makes use of par- 
 ticular names. But, what Alcibiades did, or what 
 happened to him— this is particular truth. 
 
 With respect to Comedy, this is now become 
 obvious ; for here, the Poet, when he has formed 
 his plot of probable incidents, gives to his cha- 
 racters whatever names he pleases; and is not, 
 like the Iambic Poets, particular, and per- 
 sonaL; - 
 
 Tragedy, 
 
 \ 
 
 -,^*- 
 
 .j„.. — 
 
r 
 
 ¥i 
 
 118 0/ Tragedy. [PART IT. 
 
 Tragedy, indeed, retains the use of real names ; 
 and the reason is, that, what we are disposed to 
 believe, we must think possible : now what has 
 never actually happened, we are not apt to regard 
 as possible; but what has been is unquestionably 
 so, or it could not have been at a\l\ There are, 
 however, some Tragedies in which one or two of 
 the names are historical, and the rest feigned : 
 there are even some, in which none of the names 
 are historical; such is Agatho's Tragedy called 
 The Flower; for in that, all i^ invention, both 
 incidents, and names ; and yet it pleases. It is 
 by no means, therefore, essential, that a Poet 
 should confine himself to the known and esta- 
 blished subjects of Tragedy. Such a restraint 
 would, indeed, be ridiculous; since even those 
 subjects that are kpown, are known, compara- 
 tively, but to few, and yet are interesting to all. 
 
 From all this it is manifest ; that a Poet should 
 be a Poet, or 7Jiaker, of fables, rather than of 
 verses ) since it is imitation that constitutes 
 the Poet, and of this imitation actions are the 
 object: nor is he the less a Poet, though the 
 incidents of his fable should chance to be such as 
 
 have 
 
 ^ " or it could not, &c." — The philosopher might 
 safely have trusted to any reader to find this proof o{ the 
 possibility of what has actually happened. — A modern 
 writer would certainly have omitted this ; and I wish 
 Aristotle had. But it is my business to say whatever he 
 has said. 
 
 
 PARTll.] Of Tragedy. „^ 
 
 have actually happened; for nothing hinders, but 
 that some true events may possess that pro- 
 bamty\ the invention of which entitles him to 
 the name of Poet. 
 
 r ' 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oi simple fables or actions, the episodic e^re the Ep,.,.,. 
 wrsL I call that an episodic fable, the episodes^ I'l'^lU 
 of winch follow each other without any probable '"'*"**• 
 or necessary connection; a fault into which bad 
 Poets are betrayed by their want of skill, and 
 good Poets by the players : for in order to ac- 
 commodate their pieces to the purposes of rival 
 performers in the dramatic contests, they spin out 
 the action beyond their powers, and are thus, 
 
 frequently, 
 
 * It may appear to the reader to be a strange observa- 
 tion, that " some true events May be probable." But he 
 WiU recollect what sort o( events, and what sort oi pro. 
 babiUty, Aristotle here speaks of: i. e. of extraordinary 
 rvents, such as Poetry requires, and of that more strict 
 and perfect probability, that closer connection and visible 
 dependence of circumstances, which are always required 
 from the Poet, though in such events, not often to be 
 found in fact, and real life, and therefore not expected 
 from the Historian.—Scc the quotation from Diderot 
 
 NOTE 156. ' 
 
 ' Episodes— episodic circumstances — In the second 
 sense explained note 37 : by no means in the modern 
 and ep,c sense, of a digression, incidental narrative, &c 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
r 
 
 Fablf« 
 
 SIMPLE 
 
 or 
 
 COMPLI- 
 CAT£J». 
 
 *3o Of Tragedy. [part if. 
 
 frequently, forced to break the connection and 
 continuity of its parts. 
 
 But Tragedy is an imitation, not only of a 
 complete action, but also of an action excitinty 
 terror and pity. Now that purpose is best an- 
 swered by such events as are not only unexpected^ 
 but unexpected consequences of each other: for, 
 by this means, they will have more of the won- 
 derful, than if they appeared to be the effects 
 of chance ; since we find, that, amonor events 
 merely casual, those are the most wonderful and 
 striking, which seem to imply design: as when, for 
 instance, the statue of Mitys at Argos killed the 
 very man who had murdered Mitys, by falling 
 down upon him as he was surveying it j events of 
 this kind, not having the appearance of accident. 
 It follows then, that such fables as are formed on 
 these principles must be the best, 
 
 VIIL 
 
 Fables are of two sorts, simple and complicated; 
 for so also are the actioiis themselves of which 
 they are imitations. An action, (having the con-^ 
 tinuity and unity prescribed,) I cM simple, when 
 its catastrophe is produced without either revo-- 
 lution, or discovery : complicated, when zvith one, 
 or both. And these should arise from the struc- 
 ture of the fable itself, so as to be the natural 
 consequences, necessary or probable, of what has 
 preceded in the action. For there is a wide 
 
 difference 
 
 
 fARTH.] Of Tragedy, , ,31 
 
 clifference between incidents that follow;/r^wi, and 
 incidents that follow only after, each other. 
 
 IX. 
 
 A REVOLUTION, is a change, (such as has Parts of 
 
 11, . IX. ^'^^ Fable. 
 
 already been mentioned*,) mto the reverse of i- 
 
 , . J - . Revolu" 
 
 What IS expected ivom the circumstances of the tioni. 
 action ; and that, produced, as we have said, by 
 probable, or necessary consequence. 
 
 Thus, in the Oedipus^, the messenger, meaning 
 to make Oedipus happy, and to relieve him from 
 the dread he was under with respect to his mother, 
 by making known to him his real birth, produces 
 an effect directly contrary to his intention. Thus, 
 also, in the Tragedy of Lynceus : Lynceus is led 
 to suffer death, Danaus follows to inflict it; but 
 the event, resulting from the course of the in- 
 cidents, is, th?it Danaus is killed, and Lynceus 
 saved. 
 
 A DISCOVERY, as, indeed, the word implies, is 
 a change from ufdmorvn to hiown, happening 
 between those characters whose happiness, or 
 unhappiness, forms the catastrophe of the drama, 
 and terminating in friendship or enmity. 
 
 The 
 
 DlSCOVK- 
 
 R1£S. 
 
 ' Sect. 7. — " tstnis t\i7Lt zvQ unexpected consequences oi 
 each oiher.** 
 
 * The Oedipus Tyrannus of Sophocles. 
 
 K 2 
 
'3» Of Tragedy. -Jpaet ii. 
 
 The best sort of Discovery is that which is 
 accompanied by a Revolution ^ as in the Oedipus. 
 There are, also, other Discoveries ; for inani- 
 mate things, of any kind, may be recognized in 
 the same manner*; and we may discover whether 
 such a particular thing was, or was not, done by 
 such a person :— but the Discovery most appro- 
 priated to the fable, and the action, is that above 
 defined ; because such Discoveries, and Revolu- 
 tions, must excite either piti/ or terror; and 
 Tragedy we have defined to be an imitation of 
 pitiable and terrible actions : and because, also, 
 by them tlie event, kappi/, or unhappy, is pro- 
 duced. 
 
 Now Discoveries, being relative things, are 
 sometimes of one of the persons only, the other 
 
 being 
 
 » Such is the discovery of Joseph, by his brethren, 
 Gen, xlv.— the most beautiful and aiFecting example that 
 can be given. 
 
 ♦ I do not understand Aristotle to be here speaking of 
 such discoveries of "■ inanimate things'' (rings, bracelets 
 &c.) as are the means of bringing about the true disco- 
 very—that of the persons. For, in what follows, it is 
 implied that these " other sorts of discovery'' produce 
 neither terror nor pity, neither happiness nor unhappiness ; 
 which can by no means be said of such discoveries as are 
 instrumental to the personal discovery, and, through that, 
 to the catastrophe of the piece. Of these, he treats 
 afterwards, Sect. i6.-Dacier, I think, has mistaken 
 this. 
 
 FART H.] €^ Tragedy. 13J 
 
 being already known ; and sometimes they are 
 reciprocal: thus, Iphigenia is discovered to 
 Orestes by the letter which she charges him to 
 deliver, and Orestes is obliged, by other means, 
 to make himself known to her ^ 
 
 These then are two parts of the fable — Revo- 
 lution and Discovery. There is a third, which 
 we denominate. Disasters. The two former 
 have been explained. Disasters comprehend all 
 painful or destructive actions ; the exhibition of 
 death, bodily anguish, wounds, and every thing 
 of that kind. 
 
 X. 
 
 s. 
 
 Disasters. 
 
 The parts of Tragedy which are necessary to 
 constitute its quality, have been already enume- 
 
 PARTf 
 
 into vvhic^ 
 Tragedy 
 
 rated. Its parts of quantity — the distinct parts divioi», 
 into which it is divided — are these : Prologue, 
 Episode, Exode, and Chorus; which last is 
 also divided into the Parode, and the Stasimon. 
 These are common to all Tragedies. Tlie Gom- 
 Ifoi are found in some only. 
 
 The Prologue^ is all that part of a Tragedy 
 which precedes the Parode of the Chorus. — 
 
 The 
 
 ■ I ■ II — — ^— ^— — >— — ■ I I I II ■ mmm^^tm 
 
 ^ See Mr^ Potter's Ewifldcs -.-^Iphigenia in Tauris, 
 V. 799, &c, 
 
 • Prologue — This may be compared to our ^rst act. 
 Sec NOTE 40, 
 
 ^3 
 
 %\ 
 
'34 Of Tragedy. \yKKT \u 
 
 The Episodt\ all that part which is included 
 between entire Choral Odes.— The Exode\ tha| 
 part which has no Choral Ode after it. 
 
 Of the Choral part, the Parode^ is the first 
 speech of the whole Chorus: the Stasimm\ 
 includes all those Choral Odes that are without 
 Anapcests and Trochees, 
 
 Tlie Commos\ is a general lamentation of the 
 Chorus and the Actors together. 
 
 Such are the separate parts into which Tra- 
 gedy is divided Its parts of quality were befcrq 
 explained. 
 
 Xr. The 
 
 PART ir.J 
 
 ^ Episode^], e. a part introduced^ inserted, &c. as all 
 the dialogue was, originally, between the choral odes. 
 See Part 1. Sect. 7 iV#/^', p. m. ' 
 
 » Exode-^\. e. the going out, or exit : the concluding 
 act, as we should term it. The Greek tragedies never 
 fintihed with a choral ode. 
 
 ' ^^'•^^^-'i.e. entry of the Chorus upon the stage: 
 and hence the term was applied to what they first sung, 
 upon their entry. See the note. 
 
 ' Slasimon~\. e. staHe : because, as it is explained, 
 these odes were sung by the choral troop when fixed on 
 ihe stage, and at restj..whereas.the Parjdeh said to have 
 been sung, as they came m. Hence, the 'trochaic and 
 anap^nlc measures, being lively and full of motion, were 
 ad apted to the Par ode, but not to tlie Stasmon. 
 
 ' From a verb signifying to i,at or strike ; alluding to 
 the gestures of violent grief. 
 
 Of Trageify. 
 
 XL 
 
 »35 
 
 What 
 
 ATASTRO- 
 
 ^ 
 
 The order of the subject leads us to consider, ^ 
 In Jthe next place, what the Poet should aim at, ''"^» »"<* 
 and what avoid, in the construction of his fable ; r^cter 
 
 ' ' best 
 
 and by what means the purpose of Tragedy may adapted 
 be best effected. purposes 
 
 of 
 
 Now since it is requisite to the peWection of a Tragedy. 
 Tragedy that its plot should be of the complicatedy 
 not of the simple kind, and that it should imitate 
 such actions as excite terror and pity^ (this being 
 the peculiar property of the Tragic imitation,) it 
 follows evidently, in the first place, that the 
 change from prosperity to adversity should not 
 be represented as happening to a virtuous cha- 
 racter ' ; for this raises disgust, rather than terror, 
 or compassion. Neither should the contrary 
 change, from adversity to prosperity, be exhibited 
 in a villous character : this, of all plans, is the 
 most opposite to the genius of Tragedy, having 
 no one property that it ought to have ; for it is 
 neither gratifying in a moral view, nor affectiiigi;, 
 nor terrible. Nor, again, should the fall of a 
 *cery bad man from prosperous to adverse fortune 
 be represented ; because, though such a subject 
 may be pleasing from its moral tendency, it will 
 produce neither pity nor terror. For our pity is 
 
 excited 
 
 ' i. t. eminently \\vino\i%, or good : for sq he expresses 
 it at the end of this section. • 
 
 K4 
 
 m 
 
»5^ y Tragedy. Iwtfmi 
 
 excited by misfortunes undeservedly suffered, and 
 our terror, by some resemblance between the 
 sufferer and ourselves. Neither of these effects 
 will, therefore, be produced by such an event 
 
 There remains, then, for our choice, the cha- 
 racter between these extremes; that of a per^ 
 son neither eminently virtuous or just, nor yet, 
 involved in misfortune by deliberate vice, or 
 villany; but by some error of human frailty: 
 and this person sliould, also, be some one of high 
 fame and flourishing prosperity. For example, 
 Oedipus, Thyestes, or other illustrious men 
 of such families, 
 
 XII. 
 
 ^VpIT. K^"c^ it appears, that, to be well constructed, 
 \',K^. '; ^ ^^*^1^> ^^"t^a^y to the opinion of some, should 
 vkh;';;. ^^ "^^^^^' ^^^her than double; that the change of 
 fortune should not be from adverse to prosperous, 
 but the reverse; and that it should be the con- 
 sequence, not of vice, but of some great frailty, 
 in a character such as has been described, or 
 better rather than zvorse. 
 
 These 
 
 ♦ What is here meant by a single fable, will appear 
 presently from the account of its opposite-the double 
 f^ble. It must not be confounded with the simple fable, 
 though, in the original, both are expressed by the same 
 word. The simple fable is only a fable withut revfdu^ 
 tm^ or dfscovery. Sect. 8. 
 
 KAET Uj Of Tragedy. ^ 
 
 These principles are confirmed by experience • 
 fK Poets, forn^riy, admitted almost any story 
 into the number of Tragic subjects; but now, 
 the subjects of the best Tragedies are con- 
 fined to a few families— to Alcmaeon, Oedipus, 
 Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, Telephus. and 
 others, the suflferers, or the authors, of some 
 terrible calamity. 
 
 The most perfect Tragedy, then, according to 
 fte principles of the art, is of this construction. 
 Whence appears the mistake of those critics who 
 censure Euripides for this practice in his Tra- 
 gedies, many of which terminate unhappily ; for 
 this, as we have shewn, is right And, as the 
 . strongest proof of it, we find that upon the stage, 
 and in the dramatic contests, such Tragedies, if 
 they succeed, have always the most Tragic efect : 
 wd Euripides, though, in other respects, faulty 
 in the conduct of his subjects, seems clearly to be 
 the most Tragic of all Poets. 
 
 I place in the second rank, that kind of fable to 
 which some assign Xh^Jirst ; that which is of a 
 double construction, like the Odyssey, and also 
 ends in two opposite events, to the good, and to 
 the bad, characters. That this passes for the best, 
 id owing to the weakness ^ pf the spectators, to 
 ^___^____^_^^^_____^^^^^^^^ whose 
 
 * That weakness which cannot bear strong emotions, 
 even from fictitious distress. I have known those who 
 could not look at that admirable picture, the Ugolino of 
 
 Sir 
 
I 
 
 Terror 
 
 and 
 
 Pity 
 
 to be 
 
 excited bj 
 the 
 
 ACTIOW, 
 
 not by the 
 Dec«- 
 
 SATION. 
 
 '^' ^f Tragedy. [p^n,. ^^^ 
 
 whose wishes the Poets accommodate their pro- 
 ductions. This kind of pleasure, how ever, is not 
 the /?r^/^er pleasure of Tragedy, but belongs ratlier 
 to Comedy ; for there, if even the bitterest ene- 
 mies, like Orestes and jEgisthus, are introduced^ 
 they quit the scene at last in perfect friendship, 
 and no blood is shed on either side, 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Terror and pity may be raised by the decoration 
 —the mere spectacle'; but they may also arise 
 from the circumstances of the action itself; which 
 is far preferable, and sheuj a superior Poet. For 
 the fable should be so constructed, that, without 
 the assistance of the sight, its incidents may excite 
 horror and commiseration in those, who hear 
 them only : an effect, which every one, w ho hears 
 the fable of the Oedipus, must experience. But^ 
 to produce tliis effect by means of the decoration^ 
 discovers 
 
 fcr Jos.Reynolds.~To some minds, every thing, that 
 is not r>5.y«/ is ,>^,,^/,;^._But, might not the preference 
 here attributed to weakness, be attributed to better causes 
 —the gratification of philanthropy, the love of justice, 
 order, &c. ?-the same causes which, just before, induced 
 Aristotle himself to condemn, as shocking, and disgusting, 
 those fables which involve the virtuous in calamity. 
 
 . * See a very pleasant paper of Addison's on this sub. 
 J£ct, Spectator K- 42. We know the cfFect of the skull 
 and black hangings in the Fair Penitent, xht scatfold ia 
 temce Preserved, die tomb in Romeo and Juliet, &c. 
 
 fART II.5 Of Tragedy. 13^ 
 
 discovers want of art in the Poet ; who must also 
 be supplied, by the public, with an expensive 
 apparatus^. 
 
 As to tliose Ports, who make use of the de- 
 coration in order to produce, not the terrible, but 
 the marvellous only, their purpose has nothing in 
 common with that of Tragedy. For Me are not 
 to seek for every sort of pleasure from Tragedy, 
 ' but for that only which is proper to the species. 
 
 Since, therefore, it is the business of the Tragic 
 Poet to give that pleasure, which arises from pity 
 and terror, through imitation, it is evident, that 
 he ought to produce that effect by the circum^ 
 stances of the action itself. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Let us, then, see, of what kind those incidents OfmsAf. 
 
 TROUS 
 
 are, which appear most terrible, or piteous. Inctdektv 
 
 ^■r , . - and ilieir 
 
 >iOw, such actions must, of necessity, happen proper m«- 
 
 between persons who are either friends, or ene- "'*^^"*'*^ 
 
 mies, or indifferent to each other. If an enemy 
 
 kills, or purposes to kill, an enemy, in neither case 
 
 is 
 
 • ^ Among other public offices, which the wealthier 
 citizens of Athens were, by turns, called upon to dis- 
 charge, was that of the Choragi, who were obliged, at 
 their own expence, to provide a f^^r«j, dresses, and, per- 
 haps, scenes, and the whole decoration of theatrical 
 exhibitions* 
 
 4 
 
'^ ^f Tragedy. [part xi. 
 
 is any commisseration raised in us », beyond what 
 necessarily arises from the nature of the action 
 itself. 
 
 The case is the same, when the persons are 
 neither friends nor enemies. /Byt when such 
 disasters happen between . friends »— when, for 
 instance, the brother kills, or is going to kill, his 
 brother, the son his father, the mother her son, or 
 the reverse— these, and others of a similar kind, 
 are the proper incidents for the Poet's choic^] 
 The received Tragic subjects, therefore, he is not 
 at liberty essentiaUy to alter ; Clytcmnestra must 
 die by the hand of Orestes, and Eriphyk by that 
 of Alcmaon : but it is his province to invent 
 other subjects, and to make a skilful use of those 
 which he finds already established.— What I mean 
 by a skilful use, I proceed to explain. 
 
 The atrocious action may be perpetrated know- 
 ingly and intentionally ', as was usual with the 
 earlier Poets; and as Euripides, also, has re- 
 presented Medea destroying her children ', 
 
 It 
 
 I.e. any of that degree of commiseration, which it 
 requisite to the effect of the deepest tragedy, such as is 
 the subject of this section. See note 102. 
 
 • Aristotle uses this word here, and in other parts of 
 his works, in a wide sense, including relations, &c. 
 
 • As in Macbeth, Richard the Third, &c. 
 
 • See Mr. Potter's translation of the Tragedy here 
 alluded to. 
 
 f ART II.] Of Tragedy* i^i 
 
 *^It may, likewise, be perpetrated by those, who 
 are ignorant, at the time, of the connection between 
 them and the injured person, which they after- 
 wards discover'; like Oedipu^^ in Sophocles. 
 There, indeed, the action itself does not make a 
 part of the drama*: the Alcmaon oi AstydamaSj 
 and Telegonus in the Ulysses JVoundedy furnish 
 instances within the Tragedy ^ 
 • There is yet a third way, where a person upon 
 the point of perpetrating, through ignorance, some 
 dreadful deed, is prevented by asudden discovery*. 
 Beside these, there is no other proper way. 
 For the action must of necessity be eitlier done^ 
 
 or 
 
 ' As in the Fatal Curiosity of Lillo. 
 
 ♦ The murder of Laius by Oedipus, his son, is sup- 
 posed to have happened a considerable time before the 
 beginning of the action. 
 
 ' Of these two dramas nothing more is known than 
 the little that Aristotle here tells us. In the first, the 
 Poet adhered so far to history, as to make Alcmseon kill 
 his mother Eriphyle, but with the improvement, (accord- 
 ing to Aristotle's idea,) of making him do it ignorantly. 
 The story of Telegonus is, that he was a son of Ulysses 
 by Circe ; was sent by her in quest of his father, whom 
 he wounded, without knowing him, in a skirmish relative 
 to some sheep, that he attempted to carry off from the 
 island of Ithaca. It is somewhat singular, that the wound 
 is said to have been given with a kind of Otabeite spear, 
 headed with a sharp fish-bone. Sec Pope's Odyssey XL 
 167. and the note. 
 
 • Asm Merope; Aristotle's own example. 
 
 n 
 
»4* . Of Tragedy. f part ,j; 
 
 or mt done, and that, either with kmuledge, or 
 without: but of all these ways*, that of^b^jng 
 ready to execute, knowingly, and yet mt executing, 
 l^ 18 the worst; for this is, at the same time, shock- 
 ing, and yet_not Tragic, because it exhibits no 
 disastrous event. It is, therefore, never, or very 
 rarely, made use of. The attempt of ^tf.»,o« to 
 kill Creon, in the Antigone'', is an example. 
 
 ^ext to this, is the actual execution of the 
 purpose*. 
 
 To execute, through ignorance, and afterwards 
 to discover, is better: for thus, the shocking 
 atrociousness is avoided, and, at the same time, 
 the discovery is striking. 
 
 • But the best of all these ways, is the last. Thus, 
 in the Tragedy of Cre^phontes, Merope, in the 
 very act of putting her son to death, discovers 
 liim, and is prevented. In the Iphigema\ the 
 sister, in the same manner, discovers her brother ; 
 and in the Helle\ the son discovers his mother' 
 at the mstant w hen he was going to betray her. 
 
 On this account it is, that the subjects of 
 Tragedy, as before remarked, are confined to a 
 ___^ small 
 
 * There is here much embarrassment and confusion ia 
 the original. See note 105, 
 
 ' Oi Sophocles. See Franklin's, or Brumoy\s,tranJation. 
 « Th^ first of the three proper and admissible ways that 
 were enumerated ; that of Macbeth, &c. 
 ^ The Iphigenia in Tauris of Euripides. 
 ' Of this Tragedy nothing farther is known. 
 
 PAUt n.] Of Tragedy. ^43 
 
 small niinnber of families. For It was not to art^ 
 but \Q fortune % that Poets applied themselves, to 
 find incidents of this nature. Hence the necessity 
 of having recourse to those families, in which such 
 calamities have happened. 
 
 Of the Plot, or Fable, and its requisites, 
 enough has now been said. 
 
 XV. 
 
 With respect to the Manners, /owr things 
 are to be attended to by the Poet. 
 
 Firsty and principally, they should be good. 
 Now mamiers, or character, belong, as we have 
 said before, to any speech or action that manifests 
 a certain disposition ; and they are bad, or good, 
 as the disposition manifested is bad, or good. This 
 goodness of manners may be found in persons of 
 every description' : the manners of a woman, or^ 
 of a slave, may be good; though, in general, 
 
 women 
 
 OftTie 
 Mankem, 
 
 * i.e. to history or tradition. — See above, Sect,6. />. 127, 
 and 5^r/. 12. />. 136. 
 
 ^ This is observed, to shew tlie consistence of this 
 first precept with the next. The mannefs must be drawji 
 as good as may be, consistently with the observance of 
 propriety, with respect to the ^^w^r^/ character of different 
 sexes, ages, conditions, &c. It might have been objected — 
 ♦* You say, the character must be good. But suppose 
 •* the Poet has to represent, for instance, a slave r — the 
 '< character of slaves in general is notoriously had^^--^ 
 •The answer is, — any thing may be good/« its kind: ' 
 
•44 Of Tragedy. [p^^^ ,^ 
 
 women are, perhaps, rather bad, thau good, and 
 slaves, altogether bad. 
 
 The second requisite of tlie manners, is propriety. 
 There is a manly character of bravery and fierce- 
 ness, which cannot, with propriety, be given to 
 a woman. , 
 
 The third requisite is resemblance; for this is 
 a different thing from ihtwhdnggood, ^nd proper, 
 as above described ^ 
 
 The fourth, is uniformiti/ ; for even though the 
 model of the Poets imitation be some person of 
 nnuniform manners, still that person must be re- 
 presented as tmiformly ummiform. 
 
 We have an example of manners unnecessarily 
 bad, in the character of Menelaus in the Tragedy 
 of Orestes': of improper and unbecoming man- 
 ners, in the lamentation of Ulysses in Scylla, and 
 in the speech of Menalippe' : of umnijorm man* 
 ..««.___________ "^^^* 
 
 ♦ That is, the manners may be both good, and proper 
 or becoming ; aad yet not like. For example ; should a 
 Poet draw Medea, gentle, patient, &c. the manners 
 would be botli good, and l^ecoming, but not like^not con- 
 formable to die historical or n-aditional character of the 
 individual. The portrait would be defective. 
 
 « The Orestes of Euripides.— Menelaus, throughout 
 this play, as Mr. Potter has justly remarked, is " repre- 
 *' sented as an ungrateful, unfeeling, timid, designing 
 « poltron.** ^ * 
 
 • The author had here, no doubt, given an instance 
 of the violation of resemblance in the manners, though k 
 be wanting in all the manuscripts,— Of the Scylla, nothing 
 
 l»ARTn;] Of Tragedy. "jj^^ 
 
 ners, in the Iphigenia at Julis; for there, the 
 Iphigenia, who supplicates for life, has no resem- 
 blance to the Iphigenia of the conclusion. 
 
 In the manners, as in the fable, the Poet should 
 always aim, either at what is necessary, or what is 
 probable ; so that such a character shall appear 
 to speak or act, necessarily, or probably, in such a 
 manner, and this event, to be the necessary or 
 probable consequence of M^^.—^ Hence it is 
 evident, 
 
 is known.— Some fragments remain of MenaUppc tin 
 Wise, (for this was the title,) a Tragedy of Euripides, 
 the subject of which is a curiosity. Mmalippe was 
 delivered of two children, the fruits of a stolen amour 
 with Neptune, To conceal her shame, she hid them in 
 her father's cow-house ; where he found them, and, being 
 less of a philosopher than his daughter, took them for a 
 monstrous production of some of his cows, and ordered 
 them to be burned. His daughter, in order to save them, 
 without exposing herself, enters into a long physical 
 argument, upon the principles of Anaxagoras, to cure her 
 father of his unphilosophical prejudices about monsters, 
 and portentous births, and to convince him, that these 
 infants might be the natural children of his cows. 
 Part of this very speech is preserved by Dionysius of 
 Halicarnassus, [See the Ox, Eurip. vol.iii. p. 371.] and 
 it is this masculine philosopher that is here understood to 
 be censured as an /w/>r^/>r/V/yof character.— How would 
 a Tragedy on such a subject as this, be now received by 
 an audience ? . 
 
 ' What follows, to the end of the paragraph, appears 
 rather out of place. But see the note. For development, 
 see Sect. 18. p. 154. 
 
 VOL. I. t 
 
 f 
 
'"^^ 'Of Tragedy. [VAKT U. 
 
 evident, that tlie dtxelopment also of a fable 
 should arise out of the fable itself, and not 
 depend upon machintry, as in the Medea^, or in 
 the incidents relative to the return of the Greeks, 
 [M.ou. in t^,g /^•^^9. The pr^^^ application of machi' 
 
 nery is to such circumstances, as are extraneous 
 to the drama; such, as either happened before 
 the tine of the action, and could not, by human 
 means, be known; or, are to happen after, and 
 require to be foretold : for to the Gods we attri- 
 bute the knowledge of all things. Rut nothing 
 improbabk should be admitted in the incidents of 
 the fable \- or, it' it cannot be avoided, it should, 
 at least, be confined to such as are without tlie 
 Tragedy itself ; as in the Oedipus of Sophocles. 
 
 Since Tragedy is an iuiitation of what is best, 
 we should follow the example of skilful portrait- 
 painters; who, while they express the peculiar 
 lineaments, and produce a likeness, at the same 
 
 time 
 
 * Of Euripides. Medea is carried off, at the end of 
 the Tragedy, in a chariot drawn by flying dragons. 
 See. Mr. Potter's Transl. v. 1443, &c. 
 
 ^ Pope's Iliad, II. 189, &c.— if the text here is right: 
 but this is doubtful. See the note. 
 
 ' By incidints of the fable, Aristotle here plainly means, 
 all those actions or events which are essential parts of the 
 subject or stoiy, whether previous to the action, and 
 necessary to be known, or included in it, and actually 
 represented in the drama. Compare Fart III. Sect, 6. 
 
 ?ART II.] Of Tragedy, 147 
 
 time improve upon the originaP. And thus, too, 
 the Poet, w hen he imitates the manners oi passion- 
 ate men, (or of indolent, or any other of a similar 
 kind,) should draw an example approaching rather 
 to a good, than to a hard and ferocious character: 
 as Achilles is drawn, by Agatho, and by IIomkr. 
 These things the Poet should keep in view ; and, 
 besides these, whatever relates to those senses* 
 which have a necessary connection with Poetry : 
 for here, also, he may otten err. — Ijut of this 
 enough has been said in the treatises already 
 published. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 ' What is meant by a Discovery, has already Different 
 been explained. Its kijids are the following. 
 
 First, the most inartificial of all, and to which, 
 from poverty of invention, the generality of Poets 
 
 have 
 
 * This seems intended to explain his t)iird precept, 
 of resemblance in the manners ; to reconcile it with his 
 frst, and to shew what sort of likeness the nature of 
 Tragic imitation requires. — Compare P^r/ 1. Sect.^^-^ 
 and P^r^IV. Sect.S, 
 
 * i.e. To the sight, and the hearings in other words, 
 to actual representation. See the note. 
 
 ^ The reader, who recollects the conclusion of 
 Sect. 14, where the author took a formal leave of the 
 ** fable and Its requisites," and proceeded to the second 
 essential part of Tragedy, the manners, will hardly be of 
 Dacier's opinion, who contends, that this section is righdy 
 placed. His reasons are perfectly unsatisfactory. 
 
 KINDS 
 
 of 
 Drsco- 
 
 VJkRT. 
 
'4^ ^f Tragedy. [part n. 
 
 have recourse— the discovery by *cisihk signs. Of 
 these signs, some are natural ; as, tlie lance with 
 Mhich the family of the earth-born Thebans^ were 
 marked, or the stars which Carcinus has made use 
 of in his Thyestes : others are adventitious; and 
 of these, some are corporal, as scars ; some ex- 
 ternal, as necklaces, bracelets, &c. or the little 
 boat by which the discovery is made in the Tra- 
 gedy of TyroK Even these, however, may be 
 employed with more, or less skill. The discovery 
 of Ulyssesy for example, to his nurse, by means 
 of his scar, is very different from his discovery, 
 by the same means, to the herdsmen ^ For all 
 those discoveries, in which the sign is produced 
 by way of proof, are inartificial. Those, which, 
 like that in die JVashing cf Ulysses\ happen 
 
 suddenly and casually^ are better. o 
 
 secondly, 
 
 * The descendants of the original Thebans, who, 
 according to the fabulous history, sprung from the earth 
 when Cadmus sowed die Dragon's teeth, &c.— This 
 uoh/e race are said to have been distinguished by the 
 natural mark of a lance upon their bodies. 
 
 ^ Sophocles wrote two Tragedies of this name, 
 neither of them preserved.— Tlie story of Tyro leads 
 us to suppose, that Aristotle means the little boat, trough, 
 or, as some render it^ cradle, in which Tyro had exposed 
 her children, on, or near, the river: the particular 
 manner of the discovery, it would be in vain to guess. ' 
 
 "" See Pope's Odyssey, XIX. v. 451, ficc. and the note 
 there, on v. 461, and XXI. 226. 
 
 ' The antients disringuished die different parts of 
 Homer's Poems by different tides accommodated to the 
 
 different 
 
 'ART II.] Of Tragedy. 149 
 
 A&cowrf/y— Discoveries invented, at pleasure, 
 by the Poet, and, on that account, still inartificial. 
 For example ; in the Iphigenia, Orestes, after 
 having discovered his sister, discovers himself to 
 her. She, indeed, is discovered by tlie letter : but 
 Orestes, by [verbal proofs:] and these are such, as 
 the Poet chuses to make him produce, not such, 
 as arise from the circumstances of the fable^. 
 This kind of discovery, therefore, borders upon 
 the fault of that first mentioned : for, some of the 
 things from which those proofs are drawn, are 
 even such, as might have been actually produced 
 as visible sis^ns. 
 
 Another instance, is the discovery by the sound 
 of the shuttle in the Tokens of Sophocles. 
 
 Thii^dly — The Discovery occasioned by memory; 
 
 as, when some recollection is excited by the view 
 
 of a particular object. Thus, in the Cyprians 
 
 of Dicceogenes, a discovery is produced by tears 
 
 shed at the sight of a picture : and thus, in the 
 
 Tale of Alcinous, Ulysses, listening to the bard, 
 
 recollects, weeps, and is discovered ^ ^ 
 Tourthly, 
 
 different subjects, or episodes ; l^ii, in referring to him, 
 they made use of these, not of the division into books\ 
 Thus, the part of the xixth book of the Odyssey above 
 referred to, was called The JVashing. The Tale of 
 Jlcinous was another title, which will presendy be men- 
 tioned: See the NOTE on that passage. 
 
 • See Mr. Potter's translation of the Iphigenia in 
 Tauris, v. 884 to 910. 
 » Pope's Odytiey, VIII. 569, 8tc. 
 
 1-3 
 
I 
 
 ti 
 
 it 
 
 ^^^ Of Tragedy. [part ii. 
 
 Fourthly— the discovery occasioned by reason- 
 ing or biferejice' ; such as that in the Choephorce: 
 '' The person, who is arrived, resembles me— no 
 " one resembles me but Orestes— it must be he ! " 
 And that of Polyides the Sophist, in his Iph'igenia *; 
 for the conclusion of Orestes was natural.—'* It 
 had been his sisters lot to be sacrificed, and it 
 was now his oivnr That, also, in the Tijdcus 
 of Thcodtctes :—'' He came to find his son, and 
 '' he himself must perish!" And thus, the 
 daughters oi PKineus, in the Tragedy denominated 
 from thcm^ viewing the place to which they 
 were led, infer their fate \—'' there they were to 
 '* die, for there they were exposed!" There is 
 also a compound sort of discovery, arising from 
 
 false 
 
 ' Occasioned by reasoning ;— i. e. by reasoning, (or 
 rather, inference, or conclusion,) in the person discovered. 
 See the note.— It should be remembered, that Aristotle 
 is not, in this chapter, inventing discoveries, nor enu- 
 merating all the kinds possible or practicable; but only 
 classing and examining such, as he found in use, or could 
 recollect, in the Trage^es and Epic Poems of his time. 
 
 * The subject appqlrs to have been the same, as that 
 of the. Iphigenia in Tauris of Euripides. We are to 
 suppose, that Orestes was discovered to his sister by this 
 natural exclamation, at the moment when he was led to 
 the altar of Diana to be sacrihced. 
 
 ^ Of this, and the preceding Tragedy, we know 
 nothing, but what we learn here: i.e. that in the one, 
 a father, and in the other, the daughters of Phineus, were 
 discovered, and, probably, saved, by those exclamations. 
 
 f ART II.] * Of Tragedy. i^i 
 
 false inference in the audience ; as in Ulysses the 
 False Messenger : he asserts, that he shall know 
 the bow, which he had not seen ; the audience 
 
 « 
 
 falsely infer, that a discovery, by that means, w ill 
 follow* 
 
 But, of all Discoveries, the best is that, which 
 arises from the action itself and in u hich astrikifig 
 effect is produced by probable incidents. Such 
 is that in the Oedipus of Sophocles : and 
 ttiat in the Iphigenia ; for nothing more natural 
 than her desire of conveying the letter. Such 
 discoveries are the best, because they alone are 
 effected without the help of invented proof s^ or 
 bracelets, &c.* 
 
 Next to these, are the discoveries by infere?2ce. 
 
 •■ 
 XVII. 
 
 The Poet, both when he plans, and uhen he Pkacti. 
 writes, bis Tragedy, should put himself, as much Directio> 
 as possible, in the place of a spectator; for, by tr'acTc 
 this means, seeing everything distinctly, as if pre- 
 sent at the action, he will discern what is proper, 
 and no inconsistences will escape him. The 
 fault objected to Carcimis is a proof of this. 
 
 Ampbiaraus 
 
 ♦ The original here is all incurable corruption, and 
 impenetrable obscurity. See the note. 
 
 ' All this is extremely perplexing. I must refer the , 
 reader to the note ; — but, certainly, with no promise 
 of any thing like perfect satisfaction, 
 
 L4 
 
 Poet. 
 
^^^ ^/ Tragedy. [p^Rx li. 
 
 AmpUaratish^A leu the temple*: this, the Poet, 
 for want of conceiving the action to pass befbre 
 his eyes, overlooked ; but in the representation, 
 the audience were disgusted, and the piece 
 condemned. 
 
 In composing, the Poet should even, as much 
 as possible, be an actor: for, by natural sym- 
 paUiy, they are most persuasive and affecting, who 
 are under the influence of actual passion." We 
 share the agitation of those, who appear to be 
 truly agitated-the anger of those, who appear to 
 be truly angry. 
 
 Hence it is, that Poetry demands, cither great 
 natural quickness of parts, or an enthusiasm 
 allied to madness. By the first of these, we 
 mould ourselves with facility to the imitation of 
 every form ; by the otlier, transported out of our- 
 selves, we become what we imagine. 
 
 When the Poet invents a subject, he should, 
 first, dra.v a general sketch of it, iind afterwardl 
 give it the detail of its Episodes, and extend 
 It. The general argument, for instance, of tlic 
 Iphigaiia\ should be consideied in this way: 
 A virgin, 
 
 * As the subject of this Tragedy is not known, it 
 seems impossible, from what is here said, even to gu'ess 
 how tliis was. 
 
 ' ^« Tauris.^rht general spirit of tliis precept of 
 Aristotle ,s well illustrated by Diderot in the Essgi su^ la 
 PoesicDram, at the end of his Pcre dc FaMilk, p. 292, 5cc. 
 " Surtout, s'imposer la loi de ne pas Jeter surle papier 
 '^ une seule idee de detail, que \tplan ne soit arrete," &c. 
 
 PART II.] Of Tragedy, 153 
 
 ** A virgin, on the point of being sacrificed, is im- 
 *' perceptibly conveyed away from the altar, and 
 " transported to another country, where it was 
 " the custom to sacrifice all strangers to Diana. 
 " Of these rites she is appointed priestess. It 
 " happens, some time after, that her brother 
 " arrives there." But why? — because an oracle 
 had commanded him, for some reason exterior 
 to the general plan. For what purpose ? — This, 
 also, is exterior to the plan. — ** He' arrives, is 
 " seized, and, at the instant that he is going to 
 " be sacrificed, the discovery is made." — And 
 this may be, either in the way of Euripides, or 
 like that of Polyides^, by the natural reflection of 
 Orestes, that — *' it was his fate also, as it had 
 ** been his sister's, to be sacrificed ; " by which 
 exclamation he is saved. 
 
 After this, the Poet, when he has given names 
 to his ciiaracters, should proceed to the Episodes 
 of his action ; and he must take care, that these 
 belong properly to the subject; like that of the 
 madness of Orestes, which occasions his being 
 taken, and his escape by means of the ablution'. 
 In dramatic Poetry the Episodes are short; but, 
 in the Epic, they are the means of drawing out 
 the poem to its proper length. The general story 
 of the Odyssey, for example, lies in a small 
 
 compass : 
 
 ' See the preceding section. 
 
 ^ See V.301, &.P. and r, 1248, 5cc. of Mr. Potter's 
 translation. 
 
i( 
 
 I 
 
 »54 Of Tragedy. , [p^rt i,. 
 
 compass : " A certain man is snpposed to be 
 " absent from his ow n country for many years— 
 1^' he is persecuted by Neptune, deprived of all 
 " his companions, and left alone. At home, his 
 " affairs are in disorder— the suitors of his wife 
 " dissipating his wealth, and plotting the de- 
 •^' struction of his son. Tossed by many 'tempests. 
 " he at length arrives, and, making himself known 
 ^" to some of his family, attacks his enemies, 
 " destroys them, and remains himself in safety." 
 This is the essential ; the rest is Episode. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 .A^T°oNa'„'d ^^^"7 Tragedy consists of two parts— the 
 DrvzLop. complication, and the development'. The com- 
 •f «he Plot, plication is often formed by incidents supposed 
 prior to the action, and by a part, also, of those 
 that are within the action ; the rest, form the de- 
 velopment. I call complication, all that is between 
 the beginning of the piece, and the last part, 
 where the change of fortune commences -.—deve- 
 lopment, all between the beginning of that change, 
 and the conclusion. Thus, in the Lifnccus "of 
 Theodectes, the events antecedent to the action, 
 ^^^ and 
 
 ■ Literally, the tying, and umy,-,g. Wiih the French, 
 Ncmd, and Denouement, are coi.venieni and est.iblislied 
 terras. I hope I shall be pardo.ied for avouhnj ojr 
 awkward expressions of the intrigue and unruvULng of a 
 plot, &c. I could hnd no tcni.s. less exceptionable 
 than those I have used. 
 
 PART II.] Of Tragedy. 155 
 
 and the seizure of the child, constitute the com- 
 plication ; the development is from the accusation 
 of murder to the end '. 
 
 KINDS 
 
 of 
 
 TuAGEDr. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 There are four kinds of Trasedy, deducible r^'fferent 
 
 ® '^ ^ KINDS 
 
 from so inany parts^ which have been mentioned. 
 
 One kind is the com plicated; where all depends 
 
 on revolution and discovery : anotlier is the dis- 
 
 ASTROus^such as those on the subject of v^flfo:' 
 
 or Lvion : another, the moral'^, as the PhthiotideSy 
 
 and the Peleus : and, fourthly, the simple, such 
 
 as the Phorcides\ the Pro??ietheics, and all those 
 
 Tragedies, the scene of which is laid in the in- 
 
 fernal regions. 
 
 It 
 
 * Of the plot of this Tragedy nothing is known. 
 See the note. 
 
 ' For these two kinds, see above, Sect. 8, and 9. 
 
 ♦ i.e. In whicli the dehneation of manners or character 
 is predominant. See the note. — Our language, I think, 
 wants a word to express this sense of the Greek hSiKov^ 
 and the Latin, moratum. Mannered^ has, I believe, some- 
 times been used in this sense ; but so seldom, as to sound 
 awkwardly. We know nothing of the subjects here 
 given as examples. 
 
 5 Mschylus wrote a Tragedy so named. It is difficult 
 to imagine what he could make of these three curieus 
 personages, who were horn oldwomen^ lived under ground, 
 and had but one eye among them, which they used by 
 turns ; carrying it, I suppose, in a case, like a pair of 
 spectacles. — Such is the tale ! See Mr. Potter's ^schylus^ 
 p. 49, quarto. 
 
 t^ 
 
'56 Of Tragedy. fp^^ „. 
 
 It sliould be the Poet's aim to make himself 
 roaster of all these manners ; of as many of them 
 at least, as possible, and those the best: especially' 
 considermg the captious criticism, to which ' in 
 these days, he is exposed. For, the public, havin<. 
 now seen different Poets excel in each of these 
 different kinds, expect every singk Poet to unite 
 in himself, and to surpass, the pec.liar excellences 
 of them aU. 
 
 ' One Tragedy may justly be considered as the 
 same with another, or different, not according as 
 the subjects, but, rather, according as the com- 
 pheation and development, are the same or diffe- 
 rent-Many Poets, when they have complicated 
 well, d^dop badly ^ They should endeavour to 
 deserve equal applause in both. 
 
 XX. We 
 
 • What follows seems rather to belong to the pre- 
 ceding sect.o„. But perhaps Aristotle was led to thi, 
 observauon here, by what he had just dropped about the 
 unfair and cavilling criticise of the times, which pro- 
 bably, (as Dacier has ren.arked,) denied the praise of 
 invenfon to those who composed Tragedies upon old 
 subjects, with old titles, which, we see, was the common 
 practice of the Greek Poets. 
 
 ,K V^^'fi'" commons see note 59.-11 was with 
 the Greek Tragedians, probably, as with Shahpeau - 
 ' In many of l,is plays the latter part is eviden.ly neg- 
 " Iccted. When he found himself near the end of his 
 ^1 work, and i„ view of his reward, he shortened the 
 labour, to snatch the profit. He therefore remits his 
 ■* " efforts 
 
 PART II.] 
 
 Of Tragedy. 
 
 157 
 
 XX. 
 
 We must also be attentive to what has been 
 often mentioned ^ and not construct a Tragedy 
 upon an Epic plan. By an Epic plan, I mean, a 
 fable composed of many fables^ \ as if any one, 
 for instance, should take the entire fable of the 
 Iliad for the subject of a Tragedy. In the 
 Epic Poem, the length of the whole admits of a 
 proper magnitude in the parts ; but in the drama, 
 the eftiect of such a plan is far different from what 
 is expected. As a proof of this, those Poets, 
 who hav e formed the whole of the destruction of 
 Troy into a Tragedy, instead of confining them- 
 selves (as Euripides, but not JEschylus, has done, 
 in the story of Niobe,) to a part, have either been 
 condemned in the representation, or have con- 
 tended without success. Even Agatho has failed 
 on this account, and on this only ; for, in revo- 
 lutionSj and in actions also of the simple kind, 
 these Poets succeed wonderfully in what tliey aim 
 at ; and that is, the union of Tragic effect with 
 
 moral 
 
 *' efforts where he should most vigorously exert them, 
 " and his catastroplie is improbably produced, or im- 
 " perfectly represented/' Johnson's Prcf. to Shakspeare. 
 
 » See Part I. Sect. 9.— IL Sect, 7. 
 
 ? i. e.— of many distinct parts, or Episodes, each of 
 them capable of furnishing a Tragic fable. Compare 
 Part in. Sect. i. and V. Sect. 3. about the wantof i/r/Vf 
 unity in the epic fable. 
 
 Too ^eat 
 
 EXTENT 
 
 of 
 Plan 
 to be 
 
 avoided. 
 
Of the 
 Chokus. 
 
 '5^ Of Tragedy. [PART ii. 
 
 moral tendency: as when, for example, a character 
 of great wisdom, but without integrity, is deceived, 
 like Sisyphus; or, a brave, but unjust man, con- 
 quered. Such events, as Agatho says, are pro- 
 bable, " as it is probable, in general, that many 
 " things should happen contrary to probability." 
 
 XXL 
 
 The Chorus should be considered as one of 
 the persons in the drama' ; should be a part of 
 the zihole, and a sharer in the action ; not as in 
 Euripides\ but, as in Sophocles, As for other 
 
 Poets — . 
 
 ' Jctoris partes chorus, officiumque virile 
 Defendat : neu quid medios intercinat actus, 
 Quod non proposito conducat & hareat apt}, 
 
 Hor. A. p. 193. 
 * This expression does not, I think, necessarily imply 
 any stronger censure of Euripides, than that the Choral 
 Odes of his Tragedies were, in general, more loosely 
 connected with the subject, than those of Sophocles ; 
 which, on examination, would, I believe, be found true! 
 For, that this is the fault here meant, not the improper 
 '* choice of the persons who compose the Chorus^' as the 
 ingenious translator of Euripides understands, is, I think, 
 plain from what immediately follows ; the connection 
 being this:-" Sophocles is, in this respect, most perfect ; 
 - Eunpides less so; as to the others, M./r choral songs 
 •* are totally foreign to the subject of their Tragedies'"" 
 See Mr. Porter's £«r;>;./..- Postscript to the Ttojan 
 Dames, Dr. Warton's Essay on the Genius, &c. of 
 ^ope,yQ\,\, p. 71. 
 
 PART II.] Of Tragedy, 1^9 
 
 Poets — their choral songs have no more con- 
 nection with their subject, than with that of any 
 other Tratredy : and hence, they are now^ become 
 detached pieces, inserted at pleasure' : a practice 
 first introduced by Agatho, Yet where is the 
 difference, between this arbitrary insertion of an 
 Ode, and the transposition of a speech^ or even of 
 a v\hole Episode, from one Tragedy to another? 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Of the other parts of Tragedy enough has 
 now been said. We are next to consider the 
 Diction, and the Sentiments. 
 
 For what concerns the sentiments, we refer to 
 the principles laid down in the books on Rhetoric, 
 for to that subject they more properly belong. 
 The sentiments include whatever is the object of 
 
 speech ; 
 
 ' It is curioiis to trace the gradual extinction of the 
 Chorus. At first, it was all ; then, relieved bv the in- 
 tcrmixture of dialogue, but si\\\ principal ; then, subordinate 
 to the dialogue ; then digressive, and /*// connected with 
 the piece ; then borrowed from other pieces at pleasure — 
 and so on, to the fiddles and the act-tunes, at which 
 Dacier is so angry. (See his Note p. 335.) The per- 
 formers in the orchestra of a modern theatre, are little, 
 I believe, aware, that they occupy the place, and may 
 consider themselves as the lineal descendants, of the 
 antient Chorus, — Orchestra (o^x^roa) was the name of 
 that part of the antient theatre, which was appropriated 
 to the Chorus. [Jul. Pollux, lY,p,^2^.] 
 
 Of the 
 
 Senti- 
 
 UENTf. 
 
 f 
 

 160 Of Tragedy. [p^RT II. 
 
 Speech^', as, for instance, to prove, to confute, to 
 move the passions— pity, terror, anger, and the 
 like ; to amplify, or to diminish. But it is evident, 
 that, with respect to the things themselves also^ 
 when the Poet would make them appear pitiable, 
 or terrible, or great, or probable, he must draw 
 from the same sources ; with this difference only, 
 that, in the drama, these things must appear to 
 be such, without being shew7i to be such^; 
 whereas, in oratory, they must be made to appear 
 so by the speaker, and in consequence of what he 
 says : otherwise, what need of an orator, if they 
 already appear so, in themselves, and not through 
 his eloquence ? 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 With respect to Diction, one part of its theory 
 e^plniTj ^^ ^^^^^ ^^hich treats of th^ figures'' of speech; 
 ' such 
 
 ♦ See Harris's Philolog. Inquiries, p. 1 7 3, &c. 
 
 ' Things themselves-^u e. the events, incidents, &c. of 
 the fable, as opposed to the sentiments, or thoughts. Sec 
 the NOTE. 
 
 * The circumstances which form the fablo of Lear, 
 Othello, Oedipus, &c. are such, as must of themselves^ 
 always appear in the highest degree atrocious, terrible, 
 piteous, &c. whether the Poet be a Shakspeare, or a 
 Tate, See the note. 
 
 ' Figures of speech— not in the usual sense of that 
 expression ; as appears, indeed, from his instances. Sec 
 the note; and Hermes, I. 8. about the modes: parti- 
 cularly, NOTE (c.) 
 
 # 
 
 Of the 
 
 DlCTIOK. 
 
 TART 11.] Of Tragedy. 161/ 
 
 such as, commanding, entreating, relating, mena- 
 cing, interrogating, answering, and the like. 
 But this belongs, properly, to the art of acting, 
 and to the professed masters of that kind. The 
 Poet's knowledge, or ignorance, of these things, 
 cannot any way materially affect the credit of 
 his art. For who will suppose there is any justice 
 in the cavil of Protagoras— that, in the words, 
 " The wrath, O goddess, sing V the Poet, where 
 he intended a prayer, had expressed a command: 
 for he insists, that to say. Do this, or do it not, is 
 to command, — This subject, therefore, we pass 
 over, as belonging to an art distinct from that 
 of Poetry. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 To ALL Diction, belong the following parts : Analt«» 
 — the letter, the syllable, the conjunction, the Dictiow, 
 mu7i, the verb, the article^ the cose, the dis- lakguac. 
 course or speech, 
 
 1 . A letter is an indivisible sound ; yet not all 
 such sounds are letters, but those only that are 
 capable of forming an intelligible soimd. For 
 there are indivisible sounds of brute creatures ; 
 but no such sounds are called letters. Letters 
 are of three kinds ; vowels, semivowels, and mutes. 
 The voxcel, is that, which has a distinct sound 
 
 without 
 
 in gentrai. 
 
 ' In the opening of the Iliad. 
 vol. I. M 
 
li 
 
 If 
 
 I' 
 
 # 
 
 v 
 
 '^* Of Tragedy. [PART II. 
 
 without articulation'; as A, or O.— The semi- 
 vowel^ that which has a distinct sound with 
 articulation, as S, and R. The mutey that which, 
 with articulation, has yet no sound by itself; but 
 joined with one of those letters that have some 
 sound, becomes audible ; as, G, and D. These 
 all differ from each other, as they are produced 
 by different configurations, and in different parts, 
 of the moutli ; as they are aspirated or smooth, 
 long or short ; as their tone is acute, grccce, or 
 intermediate: the detail of all which, is the 
 business of the metrical treatises. 
 
 2. A syllable, b a sound without signification, 
 composed of a mute and a vowel : for G R^ 
 without A, is not a syllable; with A, as 
 G R A, it is. But these differences, also, are 
 the subject of the metrical art. 
 
 3. A con- 
 
 • Literally, percussion : i e, of the tongue against the 
 palate, or teeth, the lips against the teeth, or against each 
 other, and all the other modes of consonant articulation. 
 Sec Hermes, III. 2. p. 322. where they are called 
 *' contacts^ Dacier makes sad confusion here, both in 
 his version, and his notes, by confounding the names of 
 the consonants, when vowels arc prefixed, or put after 
 them, to make them separately promuneihle, (Te, eF, 
 cL, &c.) with their powers in composition — as elements 
 o( words. Thus, it is stricdy true, that S and R, have 
 a smndy without the assistance of a vowel, merely by 
 their mode of articulation. But D, or G, have no sound 
 at all by themselves. The semivowels arc 1, m, n, r, s. 
 {Dion. Hal'uarn. Pe Struct. Orat. ?cct. 14.) 
 
 FART II.] Of Tragedy. 163 
 
 3. A conjunction^ is a sound without significa- 
 tion, ******** q{ s^c^^ ^ 
 
 nature, as, out of several sounds, each of them 
 significant, to form one significant sound '. 
 
 4. An article^ is a sound without signification, 
 which marks the beginnings or the end of a sen- 
 tence; or distinguishes^ y as when we say, the 
 
 word f»)/A* — THE word Trs^*, &c. 
 
 *♦**#*#** 
 
 5. A noun, is a sound, composed of ^ther 
 sounds; significant, without expression of time; 
 and of which no part is bi/ itself sigriificajit : for 
 even in double words, the parts are not taken in 
 the sense that separately belongs to them. Thus, 
 in the word Theodoras, dorus is not significant^ 
 
 6. A verb, is a sound composed of other 
 sounds ; — significant — with expression of time — 
 and of which, as of the noun, no part is by itself 
 significant. Thus, in the words, man, zvhite, in- 
 dication of time is not included : in the words, 
 
 he 
 
 ■ > ' ■ ■ . ■ ■ ■ ■ . , 
 
 ■ See Hermes, p. 239, Note (a). Here are, in the 
 original, two definitions ; one intelligible, and one unin- 
 telligible. I believe I shall easily be excused for giving 
 the reader the intelligible definition only. See the noT£. 
 
 * Hermes, p. 2 1 6, &c. 
 
 t 
 
 ' The name, Theodorus, is derived from Thtos, Q(^^^ 
 and Doron, a gift. Yet when the word is used, it stantls 
 • for neither of these ideas, but merelv for the individual 
 so named. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 Of Tragedy. [PART If. 
 
 he walks, he walked, &c. it is included ; the one 
 expressing the present time, the other the pasL 
 
 7. Cases belong to nouns and verbs. Some 
 cases express relation; as of, to\ and the like: 
 others, number; as man, or men, &c. Others 
 relate to action or pronunciation ^ : as those of 
 interrogation, of command, &c. for, {(icc^ia; 
 [did he go ?] and, pa^*^f, [^.^J are verbal cases 
 of that kind. 
 
 8. Discourse, or ^eccA, is a sound significant, 
 composed of other sounds, some of which are sitmi- 
 ficant bj/ tjiemselves : for all discourse is not com- 
 posed of verbs and nouns;— the definition of Man ^, 
 
 for 
 
 * These on/y, in moc/ern grammar, arc called cases: 
 in Aristotle, number, whether in noun or verb, and die 
 tenses, and modes, (or moods,) of verbs, are comprehended 
 under that term ; because cases^ (crr^ucTfij — casus) arc 
 endings, terminations^ infections, &c. and, in the learned 
 languages, all the above mentioned differences of 
 meaning are expressed by different terminations. The 
 French use chute, the literal translation of casus, in the 
 sense ofjermination.—'^ La chute d'une periode," &c. 
 And fa/I is used, in our poetical language, for a close, or 
 cadence, in music. 
 
 That strain again — // had a dying fall. 
 
 Merch. of Venice, 
 And so Milton in Comus^ v. 251. 
 
 * These modes, are the same which he calls /^«r^j of 
 speech, Scot. 23. See the note. 
 
 * The definition alluded to appears to be this, lite, 
 rally rendered : « A Hi^restrial animal with two feet:* 
 {lidiQv ^fitw, 3i®«K.) See the note. 
 
 f ART II.] Of Tragedy, 165 
 
 for instance. Discourse, or speech, may subsist 
 without a verb : some significant part, however, 
 it must contain ; significant, as the word Ckon 
 is, in, " Cleon xvalks.'' 
 
 A discourse or speech is one, in two senses; 
 
 either as it signifies one thing, or, several things 
 
 ojiade one by conjunction. Thus, the Iliad is one 
 
 by conjunction : the definition of Man, by sigJii" 
 
 fying one thing, 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Of WORDS, some are single — by which I mean, 
 composed of parts not significant; and some 
 double : of which last, some have one part signi- 
 ficant, and the other not significant ; and some, 
 both parts significant. A w^ord may also be 
 triple, quadruple, &c. like many of those used by 
 the MegaUotcE; as, Hermocdicoxanthus"^ , Every 
 word is either common, or foreign, or metapho- 
 rical, or ornamental, or invented, or extended^ or 
 contracted, OT altered^. 
 
 By COMMON words, I mean, such as are in 
 general and established use, — By foreign, such 
 
 t 
 
 as 
 
 ' A strange word, and how it was applied we know 
 not. It appears to be a consolidation of three Asiatic 
 rivers — the Hermus, the Caicus, and the Xanthus. 
 
 * See the last paragraph of note 190 ; an obseiva- 
 tion of importance to the right understanding of this 
 enumeration. 
 
 M 3 
 
 DiflTerent 
 of 
 
 WOBfiS. 
 
! 
 
 '*^ ' Of Tragedy. [PART ii, 
 
 as belong to a different language : so that the 
 
 same word may, evidently, be both common, and 
 
 foreign, though not to the same people. The 
 
 word Siyui^ov, to the Cyprians is cwmmi, to us, 
 
 foreign, 
 
 A METAPHORICAL 9 word is a word trans- 
 ferred from its proper sense ; either from genus 
 to species, or from species to genus, or from one 
 species to another, or in the way of analogy, 
 
 1. Trom genus to species : as, 
 
 Secure in yonder port my vessel stands'. 
 For, to be at anchor, is one species of standing 
 or being f red \ 
 
 2. From species to genus : as, 
 '"'•••--to Ulysses, 
 
 A thousand generous deeds we owe - - ». 
 For a thousand is a certain definite many, which 
 is here used for many, in general. 
 
 3t From 
 
 * For the general sense, in which metaphorical Is here 
 used, see the beginning of note 183. 
 
 " From/f.;«.r,Od, A.i85.~In Pope's translation, 
 I- 237- 
 
 " Far from your capital my ship resides^* 
 This would not answer my purpose, because tlic meta- 
 phor is changed. 
 
 * How widely different is the metaphor, when wc 
 talk of a ship riding at anchor! 
 
 * ^^-B. 272.-10 Pope, II. 333.-«but the metaphor 
 B not retained. 
 
 FART II.] Of Tragedy. 167 
 
 3. From one species to another^: as, 
 
 XaXxw aV© ij/u^iji' APT2AS. 
 And, 
 
 TAM' uTet^u %aX)Cfii^. 
 
 For here, the Poet uses ri^ikm, to cut off, in- 
 stead of d^va-Ai, to draw forth, and «f u(r«» instead 
 of TujAnv : each being a species of taking away. 
 
 4- In the way of analogy — when, of four 
 terms, the second bears the same relation 10 the 
 frst, as the fourth to the third; in which case, 
 the fourth may be substituted for the second, 
 and the second for the fourth. And, sometimes, 
 the proper term is also introduced, besides its 
 relative term. 
 
 Thus, a cup bears the same relation to Bacchus, 
 as a ^/iieW to Alars. A shield, tlierefore, may be 
 called the cup of Mars, and a cup, the shield of 
 Bacchus. Again — evening being to day, what 
 old age is to life, the evening may be called the 
 old age of the day^ and old age, the evening of 
 life ; or, as Empedocles has expressed it, " Life s 
 setting sun^" It sometimes hap{>ens, that there 
 is no proper analogous term, answering to the 
 
 , tenn 
 
 ♦ This, and the next species, only, answer to what 
 we call metaphor — the metaphor founded on resemblance^ 
 The two first species belong to the trope denominated, 
 since Aristotle's time, Synecdoche, 
 
 * " Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone.'* 
 
 Gray— Ode on Spring, 
 
 *' Yet bath my night of life some memory.'* 
 
 ^laUpenrcy Com, of £rr«ri— *last .sccn«» 
 
 W4 
 
 ^#f 
 
l66 Of Tragedy. [PART ii. 
 
 as belong to a different language : so that the 
 same word may, evidently, be both common^ and 
 foreign^ though not to the same people. The 
 word Siyuyov, to the Cyprians is cormtwny to us, 
 foreign. 
 
 A metaphorical' word is a word trans- 
 ferred from its proper sense ; either from genus 
 to species, or from species to genus, or from 07ie 
 species to another, or in the way of analogy, 
 1* Trom genus to species : as, 
 Secure in yonder port my vessel stands'. 
 For, to be at anchor, is one species of standing 
 or being j^Terf*. 
 
 2. From species to genus : as, 
 
 --------to Ulysses, 
 
 A thousand generous deeds we owe - - '. 
 For a thousand is a certain definite many, which 
 is here used for many, in general, 
 
 3. From 
 
 • For the general sense, in which metaphorical is here 
 used, see the beginning of note 183. 
 
 " From Homer, Od. A. 185. — In Pope's translation, 
 
 *' Far from your capital my ship resides,^* 
 This would not answer my purpose, because die meta- 
 phor is changed. 
 
 * How widely different is the metaphor, when wc 
 talk of a ship riding at anchor ! 
 
 ' //.B. 272.— In Pope, II. 333. — but the metaphor 
 is not retained. 
 
 fart II.] Of Tragedy. 167 
 
 3. From one species to another*: as, 
 
 XaXKea iiffQ 4^%^*' APTSAE. 
 And, 
 
 TAM' CCTBi^Bl^ Xot>.Ku. 
 
 For here, the Poet uses t*/ui«i^, to cut off, in- 
 stead of a^uo-ai, to draw forth, and «f ucai instead 
 of TQciim : each being a species of taking atvay. 
 
 4. In the way of analogy — when, of four 
 terms, the seco7id bears the same relation 10 the 
 fo^st, as the fourth to the third ; in which case, 
 
 the fourth may be substituted for the second, 
 and the second for the fourth. And, sometimes, 
 the proper term is also introduced, besides its 
 
 relative term. 
 
 Thus, a cup l3ears the same relation to Bacchus, 
 as a shield to Mars. A shield, therefore, may be 
 called the cup of Mars, and a cup, the shield of 
 Bacchus, Again— evening being to day, what 
 old age is to life, the evening may be called the 
 old age of the day, and old age, the evening of 
 life ; or, as Eynpedocles has expressed it, " Life s 
 setting sun ^" It sometimes happens, that there 
 is no proper analogous term, answering to the 
 
 tenn 
 
 ♦ This, and the next species, only, answer to what 
 we call metaphor — the metaphor founded on resemblance. 
 The two first species belong to the trope denominated, 
 since Aristotle's time, Synecdoche. 
 
 » « Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone.'* 
 
 Gray — Ode on Spring. 
 
 *' Yet hath my night of life some memory.** 
 
 ihaUpefiYCy Com. of £rr*ri—*last .scene. 
 
 M 4 
 
 ^ •? 
 
 
 
 ■*K«j:S'2^t* »: 
 
 >j#^-^. ^a&. 
 
^^8 Of Tragedy, [PART ir, 
 
 term borrowed; which vet may be used in the 
 same manner, as if there \v ere. For instance : 
 to sorv, is the term appropriated to the action of 
 dispersing seed upon the earth ; but the disper- 
 sion of rays from the sun is expressed by no 
 appropriated term ; it is, however, with respect 
 to the suns light, w hat smving is with respect 
 to seed. Hence the Poets expression, of the 
 sun — 
 
 " - - - SOWING abroad 
 ** His heaven-created flame." 
 There is, also, another way of using this kind of 
 metaphor, by adding to the borrowed word a 
 negation of some of those quahties, which belong 
 to it in its proper sense : as if, instead of calling 
 a shield the cup of Mars, we should call it the 
 wineless cup^. 
 
 An INVENTED word, is a word never before 
 used by any one, but coined by the Poet himsdf ; 
 for such, it appears, there are; as EPNTTAI^ for 
 KEPATA, horns, or APHTHPf for lEPEYX, a 
 priest, 
 
 A word is extended, when for the proper 
 vowel a longer is substituted, or a syllable is in- 
 serted. 
 
 * For the ornamental word, or the ornament, ixo<7fji&') 
 as Aristotle calls it, the definition of which should have 
 
 , come in here, see note 190. 
 
 • i. e. Branches ; which we also use for the horns of 
 a stag. But Aristotle means a new word^ not a new 
 application merely, of a word already in use. 
 
 t A suppHcator : literally, a prayer, taken iu the sense 
 o(one who prays ; as seer is used for prophet. 
 
 FART II.] Of Tragedy, 169 
 
 serted. — A word is contracted, when some part 
 of it is retrenched. — Thus, ttoAHi^, for 7roXE®», 
 and IlrjxHia^fw for Ur.Xfioc^is, are extended words : 
 contracted, such as KPI, and AH, and OY^: e. g. 
 
 - - - [jUx ymToci af/,(poTBouv OT*. 
 
 An altered word, is a word, of which part 
 remains in its usual state, and part is of the 
 Poet s makino; : as in 
 
 AEHITEPON KccTOL jt*a^oj/% 
 JfJiTEPOS is for ii^iOl, 
 
 Farther ; nouns are divided into masculine, 
 feminine, and neuter. The masculine are those 
 which end in v, ^, ••, or in some letter com- 
 pounded of (T and a mute; these are two, ^ 
 and g. — The feminine, are those which end in 
 the vowels always long, as >?, or « ; or, in «, of 
 the doubtful vowels : so that the mascuhne and 
 the feminine terminations are equal in number ; 
 for as to \J/ and ?, they arc the same with termi- 
 nations in (T. No noun ends in a mute, or a 
 short vowel. There are but three ending in « ; 
 /xfX», xo/AjtAt, TTisri^i : five ending in u : ^wu, i/aziru, 
 
 yOVM, $0^M, Oi^M, 
 
 'Y\\c neuter terminate in these two last-men- 
 tioned vowels, and in v and <r. 
 
 XXVI. The 
 
 "* K^i, occurs 11. E. 196. — Aw, 11, A. 425. 
 • Part of a verse of Empedoclcs, quoted by Strabo, 
 p. 364. Ed, Cas, 
 » A E. 393. 
 
170 
 
 Of Tragedy. 
 
 [part II. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 * or _ The excellence of diction consists in being pet- 
 Picim. sficuous without being mean. The most perspi- 
 cuous is that which is composed of cojnmon 
 words ; but, at the same time, it is mean. Such 
 is the Poetry of Cleophon^ and that of Sthenelus. 
 That language, on the contrary, is elevated, and 
 remote from the vulgar idiom, which employi 
 unusual words : by timisual, I mean, foreign^ 
 metaphorical, extended — all, in short, that are not 
 ctminwn words. Yet, should a Poet compose his 
 diction aitircly of such w ords, the rcsult would 
 be, either an eenigma, or a barbarous jargon : an 
 «nigma, if composed of mctaphm^s ; a barbarous 
 jargpn, if composed of foreign words. — For the 
 essence of an jenimna consists in putthig together 
 fhhigs apparently inconsistent and impossibley 
 mid, at the same time, sai/ijig nothing but what 
 is true. Now this cannot be effected by the mere 
 erra7igcment ' of the words ; by the metaphorical 
 use of them, it may ; as in this enigma : 
 A man I once beheld, [and wondering view'd,] 
 
 "Who, on another, brass with fire had glew'd*. 
 
 With 
 
 * By mere arrangement or construction of words 
 used in their proper senses, you may produce nonsense, or 
 ambiguity ; but not, an tnconshtcjit and impossible, yet clear y 
 meaning, 
 
 * See the note. The operation of cupping is meant, 
 which the Greeks performed with an insumncnt of 
 hrass^ 
 
 PART 11.] Of Tragedy, 171 
 
 With respect to barbarism, it arises from the 
 use of foreign words. A judicious intermixture 
 is, therefore, requisite. . 
 
 Thus, the foreign word, the metaphorical, the 
 ornamental, and the other species before men- 
 tioned, will raise the language above the vulgar 
 idiom, and common words will give it perspicuity. 
 But nothing contributes more considerably to pro- 
 duce clearness, without vulgarity, of diction, than 
 extensions, contractions, 2inA alt citations, of words: 
 for here, the variation from the proper form, 
 being unusual, will give elevation to the expres- 
 sion ; and, at the same time, what is retained of 
 usual speech will give it clearness. It is without 
 reason, therefore, that some critics have censured 
 these modes of speech, and ridiculed the Poet * 
 for the use of them; as old Euclid^ did, ob- 
 jecting, that ** versification would be an easy 
 " business, if it were permitted to lengthen words 
 " at pleasure :" — and then giving a burlesque 
 example of that sort of diction : as, • 
 
 * • * * * « « 
 
 #5 
 
 Undoubtedly, 
 
 * Homer. * Not the Geometrician. 
 
 » [ have omitted the examples — two lines of incurable 
 corruption ; the *' confusion'' of which is ** worse con- 
 founded'* by an endless variety of various readings, which, 
 after all, are only so many different shades of nonsense. 
 Seethe note. 
 
172 Of Tragedy. [part It^ 
 
 Undoubtedly, vvhen these licences appear to 
 be thus purymdy used, the thing becomes ridi- 
 culous. In the employment of all tlie species 
 of unumal words, moderation is necessary : for 
 metaphors, foreign words, or any of the others, 
 improperly used, and with a design to be ridi- 
 culous^ would produce the same effect. But 
 how great a difference is made by a proper 
 and temperate use of such words, may be seen 
 in heroic verse. Let any one only substitute 
 Common words in the place of the metaphorical, 
 the foreign, and others of the same kind, and 
 he will be convinced of the truth of what I say. 
 For example : the same Iambic verse occurs 
 in JEschylus and in Euripides ; but, by means 
 of a sinnjle alteration — the substitution of a 
 foreign, for a. common and usual word, one 
 of these verses appears beautiful, the other 
 ordinary. For JEschj/lus, in liis Fhiloctel€s\ 
 says - - - 
 
 The cankerous wound that eats my flesh. 
 
 But Euripides, instead of £(rOi« [eats^ uses 
 eOINATAI. 
 
 The same difference will appear, if, in this 
 verse, 
 
 Ni»y 
 - ■ ■ . I . I ■ . ,. ■ . . . ,1 I , 
 
 • We hive neither of the Tragedies liere alluded to. 
 
 f ART II.] Of Tragedy, 173 
 
 Nui/ h fjC Bcov OAirOL Tg Kui OYTIAANOS 
 xa/ AKIKYX% 
 
 we substitute common words, and say, 
 
 Ni;y ^6 in! im MIKPOS t6 xa/ASGENIKOS 
 %oLi AEIAHS. 
 
 So, again, should we for the following, — 
 
 AiCpfoi/ AEIKEAION xaraflgi^, OAIPHN t« 
 Tfa-ars^ay— • 
 substitute this : — 
 
 A<(pfoi/ MOX0HPON xuTuQeig^ MIK-PAN ts 
 
 Or, change— HTokK BOOnSIN^— The cliffs re- 
 bellffw—io Hloyii KPAZ0T2IN— The clifft re- 
 sound. 
 
 j4riphrades,a\sOy endeavoured to throw ridicule 
 upon the Tragic Poets, for making use of such 
 expressions as no one would think of using in 
 common speech; as, ^w/AarwK olzro^ instead of 
 d-BTo ^ufxxruv: and 2E0EN — and, lyu $b NIN — 
 ^nd, A;^iAAfw5 7r£^», instead of tti^* Ap^iXXfw?, &c. 
 
 Now 
 
 ^ — . — " 
 
 ^ Odyssey IX. v. 515. of the crignal. It is obvious 
 that these differences cannot be preserved in a trans- 
 lation. 
 
 « Od. T. 259. 
 
 • //. P. 265. — Pope's line is, 
 
 ♦* And distant rocks rebellow to tlie roar." 
 
 XVil, 315. 
 
 . / 
 
w. 
 
 ■a|^ 
 
 -A 
 
 174 Of Tragedy, [part ii. 
 
 Now it is precisely owing to their being not in 
 common use, that such expressions have the effect 
 of giving elevation to the diction. But this he 
 did not know *. 
 
 To employ with propriety any of these modes 
 of speech — the double words, the foreign, &c. — is 
 a great excellence : but the greatest of all, is to 
 be happy in the use of metaphar ; for it is this 
 alone which cannot be acquired, and which, con- 
 sisting in a quick discernment of resemblances, is 
 a certain mark of genius*. 
 
 Of 
 
 * Aristode's thorough contempt of the critic, and his 
 criticism, could not have been more strongly marked than 
 
 ^'^s short and simple expression. [ — eusiv^ ^i juro 
 vyyoft !] 
 
 * Metaphors are, cvidendy, much more important, 
 and more of the essence of Poetry, than the other sorts of 
 words. It is very easy, and very commonly practised by 
 Poets of no genius or originality, to copy the technical 
 language, iht formula, as it were, of Poetry — compound 
 epithets, obsolete words, &c. These occur but now and 
 then: metaphorical expression is continually wante^ 
 and the beauty, force, and novelty of it, depend on the 
 writer's own imagination. Indeed, almost all the beauty 
 of Poetry, as far as language is concerned, all that dis- 
 tinguishes the Poet of genius, from the versifier who 
 trusts solely to his ear, and to his memory, arises from 
 the uncommon and original use of metaphor ; especially, 
 taking that word in Aristotle's latitude, as comprehending 
 all tropical expression. Here, however, he plainly has 
 cur metaphor chiefly in view ; — the metaphor founded 
 on resemblance. ^ 
 
 I 
 
 ^ART 11;] Of Tragedy, 175 
 
 Of the different kinds of words, the double are 
 best suited to Dithyrambic Poetry ; the foreign 
 to Heroic; the inetaphoiical to Iambic. la 
 Heroic Poetry, indeed, they have <ill tlieir place; 
 but to Iambic verse', which is, as much as naay 
 be, an imitation of common speech *, those words 
 which are used in common speech are best 
 adapted ; and such are, the com?non, tiie meta" 
 phoricalf and the ornainentaL 
 
 Concerning Tragedy, and the imitation bj 
 ACTION, enough has now been said. 
 
 * The verse of Tragedy, See the NOTZ. 
 
 * S€C above — Part I. Sect. 7. 
 
[ 176 ] 
 
 In what 
 
 Epic 
 
 and 
 
 Tragic 
 Poetry 
 •grec 
 
 PART III. 
 
 OF THE EPIC POEM. 
 
 I 
 
 I. 
 
 WITH respect to that species of Poetry 
 which imitates by xauration, and in 
 hexameter verse, it is obvious, that the fable 
 ought to be dramatically constructed \ like that 
 of Tragedy: and that it should have for its 
 subject one entire and perfect action^ having a 
 beginning, a middle, and an end; so that, form- 
 ing, like an animal, a complete whole, it may 
 2iffoYd its proper"- pleasure: widely differing, in 
 its construction, from history, which necessarily 
 treats, not of one action, but of one time ; and of 
 all the events that happened, to one person, or to 
 many, during that time ; events, the relation of 
 which, to each other, is merely casual \ For, as 
 the naval action at Salamis, and the battle with 
 
 the 
 
 • See below, Sect. 3. 
 
 * i.e. Opposed, (as appears from what follows,) to 
 that which history gives. Unity of interest is essential to 
 the pleasure we expect from the Epic Poem ; aiitl this 
 camiot exist, at least, in the degree required, without 
 unity of action, 
 
 » Compare, Part II. S^ct. 5, 7, and 8. 
 
 PART III.] 0/ the Epic Pom, I77 
 
 the Carthaginians in Sicily, were events of the 
 same time, unconnected by any relation to a 
 common end, or purpose; so also, in successive 
 events, we sometimes see one \\\\ngfolloxv another, 
 without being connected to it by such relation. 
 And this is the practice of the generality of 
 Poets, Even in this, therefore, as we have 
 before observed*, the superiority -of Homers 
 genius is apparent, that he did not attempt to 
 brintT the xchole war, thoudi an e;/^/re action with 
 beginning and end, into his Poem. It would have 
 been too vast an object, and not easily cowpre- 
 henckd in one xiew^ : or had he forced it into a 
 moderate compass, it would have been perplexed 
 by its variety^. Instead of this, selecting onQ part 
 only of the war, he has, from the rest, introduced 
 many Episodes — such as the catalogue of the 
 ships, and others — by which he has diversified 
 his Poem. Other Poets take for their subject 
 the actions of one person^, or of one period 
 
 of 
 
 - * Part II. 5tf/. 5. * See Part IL Scct.^. 
 
 * Because " t/ie length of the whole woultP* then " not 
 '* admit of a proper magnitude in the parts ;^* and, thus, 
 an Epic Poem constructed upon an historical pbn, would 
 be exactly in die same case with a Tragedy " con- 
 structed on an Epic plan,^^ See Part II. Sect. 20. and 
 NOTE 153. '' 
 
 » Part II. ^cct, 5. 
 
 VOL. I. y 
 
1^8 Of the Epic Poem, [part IIU 
 
 of timely or an action which, though o?ie, is 
 composed of too many parts. Thus, the author 
 of the Cypriacs, and of the Little Iliad '. Hence 
 it is, that tiie Iliad, and the Odyssey, each 
 of them, furnish matter for one Tragedy, or two, 
 at most ; but from the Cijpriacs many may be 
 taken, and from the Little Iliad, more than 
 eight; as, The Contest for the Armour \ 
 
 rhiloctetes, 
 
 ^ Of this kind seems tlie Poem of Arlosto^ tliC cxor- 
 dium of which, not only expresses the niiscelianeous 
 variety cT his matter, but, also, his principle of unity, 
 
 Le Donne, i cavalier, I'arme, gli amori, 
 Le cortesie, I'audaci imprese, io canto, 
 Chefuro al tempo che passaro i Mori, &c. 
 
 Ariosto% expedient was, to " intertwist tlie several actions 
 <* together, in order to give something like tlie appear- 
 " ance of one action,** to the whole, as has been ob- 
 served q{ Spenser : [Letters on Chivalry, &c.] he has given 
 his Poem the continuity of basket-work. Or, if I may 
 be indulged in another comparison, his unity, is the 
 unity produced between oil and vinegar by shaking them 
 toorether; which only makes them separate %y smaller 
 portions. 
 
 ^ So called, to distinguish it from the L'iad of Homer, 
 of which it seems to llave been a continuation. See the 
 
 KOTE. 
 
 ' i. e. Between Ajax and Ulysses. JEsehylus wrote a 
 . Tragedy on this subject, of which the Ajax of Sophocles 
 is the sequel. — Dacier, 
 
 I 
 
 PART III.] Of the Epic Poem. lyc^ 
 
 Phikctctefi^, Neoptole?nus, Euryp7/lus\ The 
 Va<^raNt\ 'The Spartan JFomen, The Fall of 
 Troy, The Return of the Fleet ^, Sinon ^, and 
 The Trojan JFomcn ^. 
 
 Again — the Epic Poem must also agree with 
 the Tragic, as to its kinds: it must be simple, or 
 complicated, iiwral, or disastrous^. Its parts^ 
 also, setting aside Music and Decoration, are the 
 same ^ ; for it requires Revolutions, Discoveries^ 
 and Disasters ; and it must be furnished with 
 proper sentiments and diction : of all which 
 IloMFE gave both the first, and the most perfect, 
 exdu.ple. Tiius, of his two Poems, the Lliad is 
 ot the simple and disastrous kind ; the Odyssey y 
 complicated, (for it abounds throughout with dis- 
 coveries,) 
 
 ' The Philoctetes of Sophocles only remains. 
 
 ^ Of the subject of this, and the preceding drama, we 
 know nothing. 
 
 * See Pope's Odyssey, IV. 335. but what Is there 
 rendered slave, is, in Homer, btjgar, or vagrant. The 
 story is also touched by Euripides, in his Hecuba, See 
 Patterns Transl. v. 2 10, &:c. 
 
 * See the latter p^rt of note 116. 
 
 * The story is well known from Virgil, ^n, 2. — 
 Sophocles wrote a Tragedy of this title. 
 
 ' A Tragedy of this name by Euripides is extant. 
 See The Trojan Dames, in Mr. Potter's translation. 
 
 » See Part II. Sect. 19. ^ P^rt I. Sect, 9. 
 
 N 2 
 
In what 
 they 
 
 DIFFER. 
 
 180 Of the Epic Poem. [PART III. 
 
 coveries*,) and moral. Add to this, that in 
 language and sentiments he has surpassed all 
 Poets. ' 
 
 II. 
 
 The Epic Poem differs from Tragedy, in the 
 length of its plan, and in its metre. 
 
 With respect to lengthy a sufficient measure 
 has already been assigned *. It should be such, 
 as to admit of our comprehending at ojie view the 
 bes[inninf^ and the end: and this would be the 
 case, if the Epic Poem were reduced from its 
 ancient lensth, so as not to exceed that of such 
 a number of Tragedies, as are performed suc- 
 cessively at one hearing '. But there is a circum- 
 stance in the nature of Epic Poetry which affords 
 it peculiar latitude in the extension of its plan. 
 It is not in the power of Tragedy to imitate 
 several different actions performed at the same 
 time; it can imitate only that one which occupies 
 the stage, and in which the actors are employed. 
 
 But, 
 
 * See Pope's translation, XVI. 206, &c. wlierc 
 Ulysses discovers himself to Telemachus : XXI. 212, 
 to the shepherds. — XXIII. 211. to Penelope. — XXIV. 
 375. to his father. — IX. 17. to Alcinous. — IV. 150, &c. 
 Telemachus is discovered to Menelaus by his tears: 
 V. 189, to Helen, by his resemblance to his father. — 
 XIX. 545. Ulysses is discovered to the old nurse, by 
 the scar. ^ 
 
 * Seethe preceding Sect. SLndPari II. Scct.^, 
 ' In the dramatic contests. See the note. 
 
 PART III.] 0/ the Epic Poem, 181 
 
 But, the Epic imitation, being narrative^ admits 
 of many such simultaneous incidents, properly 
 related to the, subject, which swell the Poem to a 
 considerable size. 
 
 And this gives it a great advantage, both in 
 point of magnificence, and, also, as it enables the 
 Poet to relieve his hearer*, and diversify his 
 work, by a variety of dissimilar Episodes : for it 
 is to the satiety naturally arising from similarity 
 that Tragedies frequently owe their ill success. 
 
 With respect to metre, the heroic is established 
 by experience as the most proper; so that, should 
 any one compose a narrative Poem in any other, 
 or in a variety of metres, he would be thought 
 guilty of a great impropriety. For the heroic is 
 the gravest and most majestic of all measures ; 
 and hence it is, that it peculiarly admits the use 
 oi foreign and metaphorical expressions ; for in 
 this respect also, the narrative imitation is 
 abundant and various beyond the rest. But the 
 Iambic and Trochaic have more motion \ the 
 latter being adapted to dance, the other to action 
 and business. To mix these different metres, as 
 Chceremon has done, w ould be still more absurd. 
 No one, therefore, has ever attempted to com- 
 pose a Poem of an extended plan in any other 
 than heroic verse; nature itself, as we before 
 observed ^ pointing out the proper choice. 
 
 * " Hearer.*' — Sec Dissert, I, p, 64, 65. 
 » Part 1. Sect, 7. 
 
 N3 
 
l82 Of the Epic Poem, 
 
 [part III. 
 
 III. 
 
 tpic Amoncr the many just claims of Homer to 
 
 KarriiliflJi r> J ^ 
 
 should be our praise, this is one — that he b the only Poiet 
 
 DRAMATIC ^ 
 
 IMITATIVE 
 
 and vvho seems to have understood what part in his 
 Poem it was proper for him to take himself. The 
 Poet, in his own person, should speak as little as 
 possible; for he is not then the imitator^. But 
 other Poets, ambitious to tit^nre throughout, them- 
 selves^, imitate but little, and seldom. Homer, 
 after a few preparatory lines, immediately in- 
 troduces a man, a woman, or some other cha- 
 racter* ; for all have their character — no where 
 are the manners nejilectcd. 
 
 IV. 
 
 ^/"■<^ The surprising is necessary in Tragedy f ; but 
 
 woNDrRFi'L thc Eplc Pocm goes farther, and admits even the 
 
 more easily • • i i i • i 
 
 and improbable and incredible, from which the highest 
 
 in a grcaier 
 
 dr^rieihuu degree of the surprising results, because, there, 
 " ^ the 
 
 * Strictly speitking. See Dissertation 1.^.37. 
 
 ' This is remarkably the case with Lucan; of whom 
 Hobbes says, that " no Heroic Poem raises such ad- 
 *' miration of t/ie Poet, as liis haih clone, though not so 
 *' great admiration of the persons he introdueeth^^^ 
 [Disc, concerning the Virtues of an Heroic Poem.^ 
 
 * As, gods, goddesses, allegorical beings, &c, 
 t See above, Part II, Sect, 7. p, 129, 130. 
 
 PART in.] Of the Epic Poem. 183 
 
 the action is not *seen*. The circumstances, for 
 example, of the pursuit of Hector by Achilles, 
 are such, as, upon the stage, would appear ridi- 
 culous; — the Grecian army standing still, and 
 taking no part in the pursuit, and Achilles 
 making sitrns to them, bv the motion of his head, 
 not to interfere'. But in the Epic Poem this 
 escapes our notice. Now the wonderful always 
 pleases ; as is evident from the additions which 
 men always make in relating any thing, in order 
 to gratify the hearers. 
 
 V. 
 
 It is from Homer principally, that other ,^'"„'^jg 
 Poets have learned the art of feigning well. It ^^ p^^,V'»* 
 
 ^ o o train, 
 
 consists 
 
 ♦ The best comment to which [ can refer the reader 
 upon all this part of Aristotle, is to be found in the loth 
 of the Letters on Chivalry and Romance, in which the 
 Italian Poets, and the privileges of genuine Poetry, are 
 vindicated, with as much solidity as elegance, against 
 those, whom Drydcn used to call his ** Prose Critics'"^ — 
 against that sort of criticism ** which looks like philosophy^ 
 and is not,''* — Dr, Hurd^s Dialogues, ^c. vol. iii. 
 
 » Pope's Iliad, XXIL 267.— Perhaps, the idea of 
 stopping a whole army by a nod, or shake of the head, 
 (a circumstance distincdy mentioned by Homer, but 
 sunk in Mr. Pope's version,) was the absurdity here 
 principally meant. If diis whole Homeric scene were 
 represented on our stage, in the best manner possible^ , 
 there can be no doubt, that the etfect would justify 
 Aristode's observation. It would certainly set the 
 audience in a roar. 
 
 N 4 
 
1^4 Of the Epic Poem, [part iir, 
 
 consists in a sort of sophism. When one thing is 
 observed to be constantly accompanied, or fol- 
 lowed, by another, men are apt to conclude, that, 
 if the latter is, or has happened, the former must 
 also be, or must have happened. But th'^s is an 
 error. * * ***** p^^p^ knowing 
 
 the latter to be true, the mind is betrayed into 
 the false inference, that the first is true also*. 
 
 VI. 
 
 iMp^oBAFLE ^^^ ^^^^ should prefer iwpossl bill tics'- which 
 , ^'"* appear probable, to such things as, thonah 
 
 ABSURD. I I r f O ? ."D 
 
 possible J appear improbable. Far from producing 
 
 a plan 
 
 * For an attempt to explain Aristotle's meaning in this 
 difficult passage, which, I think, has not hitherto been 
 understood, I must refer the reader to the note. 
 
 * This includes all that is called faery, machinery, 
 ghosts, witches, enchantments, &c — tilings, according to 
 Hobbcs, " beyond the actual bounds, and only wiihin the 
 «* concewed possibility of nature." [See the Litters on 
 Chivalry, as aboveC] Such a being as Caliban, for ex- 
 ample, is impossible, ^ Yet Shakspeare has made the 
 character appear probable \ not certainly, to reason^ but to 
 imagination: that is, vje make no difficulty about the 
 possibility of it, in reading. Is not the Lovelace of 
 Richardson, in this view, more out of nature, more im- 
 probable, than the Caliban of Shakspeare ? The latter is, 
 at least, consistent I can imagine such a monster 
 as Caliban : 1 never could imagine such a man as 
 Lovelace. 
 
 PART III.] Of the Epic Poem, ig^ 
 
 a plan' made up of improbable incidents, he 
 should, if possible, admit no one circumstance 
 of that kind ; or, if he does, it should be exterior 
 to the action itself ^ like the ignorance oi Oedipus 
 concerning the manner in w hich Laius died ; not 
 xtithin the /drama, like the narrative of what 
 happened at the Pythian games, in the Electra^; 
 or, in The Mysiiins, the man who travels from 
 Tegea to Aiysia without speaking^. To say, that 
 
 without 
 
 ^ The general plan, story^ or argument, as Part IT. 
 Sect, 17. including events ^r/or to the action, but neces- 
 sary to be known. 
 
 ♦ See the beginning of the Oedipus of Sophocles. 
 Though tlie ignorance of Oedipus appears in the drama 
 itself, yet the circumstances, upon which the improbability 
 of that Ignorance depends (his coming to Thebes, marrying 
 Jocasta, aiid living with her twenty years.) are exterior to 
 the drama: i. e. prior to the opening of the action. See 
 above, Part II. Sect. 15. 
 
 ' See Brumcyy Th. dcs Grecs, I. p. 428. I believe he 
 is right in understanding the absurdity here meant to 
 be — ** d'avoir fait raconter comme inconnue, une chose 
 " dont Clytemnestre auroit pu sgavoir d'ailleurs la verite 
 ** ou la faussete, surtout s'agissant diOreste qu'elle craig- 
 ** noit." — The games in question were probably fre- 
 quented by all Greece, and whatever happened at them, 
 must have been matter of such public notoriety, that a 
 fraudulent account would have been liable to immediate 
 detection. 
 
 ^ Respecting this Tragedy, see Remark 30. 
 
X86 Of the Epic Poem, [part III, 
 
 without these circumstances the fable would have 
 been destroyed, is a ridiculous excuse: the Poet 
 should take care, from the first, not to construct 
 his fable in that manner. If, liowever, any thing 
 of this kind has been admitted, and yet is made 
 to pass under some colour of probability, it may 
 be allowed, though even, in itself, absurd. Thus 
 in the Odyssey'^ y the improbable account of the 
 manner in which Ulysses was landed upon the 
 shore of Ithaca, is such, as in the hands of an 
 ordinary Poet, would evidently have been into- 
 lerable : but here, the absurdity is concealed 
 under the various beauties, of other kinds, with 
 which the Poet has embellished it. 
 
 The Diction should be most laboured in the 
 idle parts* of the Poem — those, in which neither 
 
 manners, 
 
 ^ See Pope's 7rfl«j/. XIII. 138, and the wo/V there, and 
 on V. 142. Homer seems, clearly, to have imagined this 
 circumstance, for the sake of the interesting scene which 
 follows when Ulysses wakes. See v. 220, 6cc. Of the 
 original, v. 187. 
 
 * In the strictly narrative or descriptive parts, where the 
 P§et speaks in his own person, and the imitatitriy the 
 drama, which Aristotle considers as the true business of 
 Poetry, is suspended. These he calls the /W/^/«r/j. The 
 expression is applicable also to Tragedy ; for though its 
 imitation is throughout, yet every drama must have its 
 comparatively idle parts. Such is the descripiion above 
 alluded to, of the chariot-race, ir^the £/^f/r« of Sophocles. 
 The chorusses also may, in a great measure be so 
 
 considered; 
 
 PART III.] Of the Epic Focm. 187 
 
 manners, nor sentiments'^ prevail ; for the manners 
 and the sentiments are otily obscured by too 
 splendid a diction \ 
 
 considered ; and in them, accordingly, the language is 
 ** laboured *' and " splendid^ — In Epic Poetry, these 
 parts arc of great i nportance to that variety which 
 characterizes the species. [See above, ScctAl.^ In so 
 long a work, relief is wanted, and we arc glad to hear 
 the Poet in his turn. 
 
 ^ The reader mav wonder that Aristotle did not add — . 
 ** nor passion^ But that part of the Epic and Tragic 
 Poem, which he calls the sentiments ^\nQ\\i(\ts the expression 
 of passion. See Part il. Sect. 22, And the note here. 
 
 * *' His diction [ Thomson^'] is in the highest degree 
 *' floiiil and luxuriant ; such as may be said to be to his 
 *' images and thoughts both their lustre and their shade ; 
 ** such ^*s invests them with splendour, through which 
 '* perhaps they are not always easily discerned.*' — 
 Dr, jfolmson's Life of Thomson, 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
[ i88 ] 
 
 #■ 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 ) 
 
 OF CRITICAL OBJECTIONS, 
 
 AND THE PRINCIPLES ON WHICH THEY 
 
 ARE TO BE ANSWERED. 
 
 on 
 
 W 
 
 I. 
 
 is to be 
 
 BErENDED. and nature of the different sources, from which 
 they may be drawn, will be clearly understood, 
 , if we consider them in the following manner. 
 
 1. The 
 
 * The original is, Problems, This appears to have 
 been a common title of critical works in Aristode's trnie. 
 Objections, censures, and the most unreasonable cavils, 
 were conveyed in the civil (orm of proh/ems and questions. 
 Thus, many criticisms on Homer were published under 
 the tide of Homeric Problems. 
 
 The scope of this part of Aristotle's work is of more 
 importance to liis subject than, at first view, it may 
 appear to be. In teaching how to answer criticisms, it, 
 in fact, teaches, (as far, I mean, as it goes,) what the 
 Poet should do to avoid giving occasion to them. It 
 seems, indeed, intended as an apology for Poetry, and a 
 vindication of its privileges upon true poetical principles, 
 at a time when the art and its professors were unfairly 
 attacked on all sides, by the cavils o( prosaic pliilosophers 
 and sophists, such as Ariphradcs^ Protagoras j Euclid, &c. 
 and by the puritanical objections of Plato and his 
 followers. 
 
 \ 
 
 PART IV.] Of Critical Objections, b^c. igg 
 
 1 . The Poet, being an imitator^ like the painter 
 or any other artist of that kind, must necessarily, 
 when he imitates, have in view one of these three 
 objects ; — he must represent things, such as they 
 were, or ^rc*;— or such as they are said to be, and 
 believed to be\ — or, such as they should be^. 
 
 2. Again : all this he is to express in xeords^ 
 either common, or Joreign and metaphorical — or 
 varied by some of those many modifications and 
 peculiarities of language, u hich are the privilc-ye 
 of Poets. 
 
 3. To this we must add, that zvhat is right in 
 the Poetic art, is a distinct consideration froS^ 
 what is right in the political, or any other art. 
 The faults of Poetry are of two kinds, essential 
 and accidental. If the Poet has undertaken to 
 imitate without talents for imitation, his Poetry 
 will be essentially faulty. But if he is right in 
 applying himself to Poetic imitation, yet in imi- 
 tating is occasionally wrong ; as, if a horse, for 
 exai%le, were represented moving both his right 
 legs at once ; — or, if he has pommitted mistakes^ 
 or described things impossible^ with respect to 
 
 other 
 
 * Qom^iiTt Par t\. Sect. 1* 
 
 ' This opens the door for the marvellous; machinery, 
 ghosts, wiiches, faery, &c. 
 
 ♦ Compare Part I. Sect, 3. — II. end of Sect. 15. and 
 below, Sect. 5. 
 
190 Of Critical Objections^ &c* [PART iv. 
 
 Other artSy that of Physic, for instance', or any 
 other — all such faults, what vcr the) may be, are 
 not essential J but accidental taults, in the Poetry. 
 
 II. 
 
 ArrLicA- 'Pq ^\^q foreiroins considerations, then, wc must 
 of Uie j^ave recourse, in order to obviate the doubts and 
 
 last ' 
 
 Principle, objcctions of the critics. 
 
 For, in the Jirst place, suppose the Poet to 
 have represented things impomble with respect 
 to some other art. Thi^s is certainly a fault. Yet 
 it may be an e.vcusaKe fault, provided the end of 
 
 t Poet's art be more effectually obtained by it; 
 t is, according to what has already been said 
 of that aul, if, by this means, that, or any other 
 part, of the Poem, is made to produce a more 
 striking effect \ The pursuit of Hector is an 
 instance ^ If, indeed, this end might as well, or 
 nearly as well, have been attained, without de- 
 parting from the principles of the particular art 
 in question, the fault, in that case, could not be 
 justified ; since faults of every kind shoura, if 
 possible, be avoided. 
 
 Still we are to consider, farther, whether a fault 
 be in thinr^s essential to the Poetic art, or foreitrn 
 
 and 
 
 ^ Which is exactly die case with Homer's im{>robable 
 account of the landing of Ulysses, mentioned above, 
 PartlW. Sect. 6. See Note 7, 
 
 • Partlll.Sect.^, 
 
 PART I v.] Of Critical Objections^ t^c^ 191 
 
 and incidental to it : for it is a far more pardon-^ 
 able fault to be ignorant, for instance, that a hind 
 has no horns'", than to paint one badly, 
 
 III. 
 
 Farther : If it be objected to the Poet, that he Applica- 
 
 1 11* r « HON 
 
 has not represented thmgs conformably to truth , of ihe 
 he may answer, that he has represented them as Pi^ndpk. 
 they should be. This was the answer of Sophocles 
 — that " he drew^ mankind such as they shoidd 
 " be ; Euripides, such as they are'' And this is 
 the proper answer. 
 
 But if the Poet has represented things in neither 
 of these ^^•ays, he may answer, that he has re- 
 presented them as they are said and believed 
 to be. Of this kind are the poetical descrip- 
 tions of the Gods/- It cannot, perhaps, be said, 
 that they are either what is best, or what is 
 true; but, as Xenophanes says, opinions "taken 
 up at random :" these are things, however, not 
 '* clearly known'' 
 
 Again — What the Poet has exhibited is, per- 
 haps, not what is best, but it is the fact ; as iii 
 
 the 
 
 ' ** ^ bind with golden horns^'^ is expressly mentioned 
 by Pindar in his 3d Olympic Ode, and by other Greek 
 Poets. This inaccuracy in natural history, had probably 
 been the subject of critical cavil, 
 
 * i.e. to common nature. Above, he expresses it, bj 
 '* representing things such as they vjcre, or are^ 
 
192 Of Critical Objections^ &c. [part IV, 
 
 the passage about the arms of the sleeping* 
 
 soldiers : 
 
 - - - fivcd upright in the earth 
 
 Their spears stood by^ - - - 
 
 For such was the custom at that time, as it is now 
 among the Illyrians. 
 
 TV. 
 
 Censure of In Order to judge whether what is said, or done^ 
 
 IMMORAL 
 
 speech by any character, be well, or ?//, we are not to 
 
 or , 
 
 action, consider that speech or action alone \ whether in 
 
 how to be . .>, 
 
 cxiuuiued. ttselj 
 
 * Iliad, X. 152. — In Pope's translation, v. 170, &c. — 
 ' On what account this had been objected to by ihe critics, 
 
 we are left to guess. Dacier, after Victorius, supposes 
 the objection to be, that the spears, so fastened in the 
 ground, could not be readily disengaged, in case of a 
 sudden attack. I shall only observe, that by Homer's 
 description of the truce in the 3d book, this appears to 
 have been the usual position of their spears when no 
 attack was apprehended, and in open day-light; which 
 makes it the less surprising that it should have been 
 objected to as an impropriety in a situation of nocturnal 
 danger, such as is described in the passage referred to. — 
 What Pope, 1 1 1. 177, translates, " rest their spears," is, 
 in Homer, " their spears were fixed, ^"^ ( — Tta^a J* iyx^ 
 fMH^a riEriHrEN. V. 135.) 
 
 " This is plainly connected with what precedes, which 
 cannot be properly applied without taking in the con- 
 sideration of character, circumstances, motiz/cs. Sec. — The 
 speech of Satan, for example, in Parad. Lost, IV. 32, 
 taken in itself, is horrible ; referred to tlie character who 
 
 to, 
 
 ^ ^ speaks 
 
 PART IV.] Of Critical Objections, ^c, 193 
 
 Uself it be good, or bady but also by w horn it is 
 spoken or done, to whom, at what t'mie, in what 
 manner, or for what end — whether, for instance, 
 in order to obtain some greater good, or to avoid 
 some greater evil. 
 
 V. 
 
 For the solution of some objections, we must ^"^^<3*- 
 
 ^ ^ TION 
 
 have recourse to the Diction. For example : ®^ ^''^ 
 
 ^ second 
 
 OTPHAS jLtei/ TTOUTOV , ^^indplc. 
 
 " On MULES and dogs the infection^r^if began *." 
 
 Pope. 
 This may be defended by saying, that the Poet 
 
 has, perhaps, used the word «^>ja? in its foreign^ 
 acceptation of sentinels, not in its proper sense, 
 of mules- 
 So also in the passage where it is said of Dolo?i-- 
 
 EIAOS juei/ B7}v Tcocic©^^ 
 
 Oi form unhappy. - r - 
 
 The 
 
 speaks it, nothing can be better. It is, poetically speaking, 
 exactly what it should be. 
 
 * //.I. 69. — The reason of the objection here \s not 
 told, and has been variously guessed by the commentators. 
 Probably, the propriety of making the mules the first 
 sufferers, before horses and other animals, was the 
 matter in dispute. Tlie objection seems frivolous, and 
 the solution improbable. 
 
 ^ U.K. 316.— Pope, X. 375, has followed Aristotle's 
 interpretation : 
 
 " Not blest by nature with the charms efface, 
 But swift of foot, and matchless in the race." 
 VOL. I. The 
 
194 * 0/ Critical OhjectionSy &c, [PART iv. 
 
 The meaning is, not, that his perso?i was 
 deformed, but, that liis face was uglij \ for 
 the Cretans use the word ETEIAE2 — '' xvell- 
 formed" — to express a beautiful ^ifce. 
 
 Again : 
 
 ZaPOTEPON ^6 X6fa/f£* 
 
 Here, the meaning is not, " mix it strong,^' as for 
 intemperate drinkers ; but, " mix it quickly'' 
 2. The following passages may be defended by 
 
 .METAPHOR. 
 
 " Now pleasing sleep had scal'd each mortal eye ; 
 *^ Stretch'd in the tents the Grecian leaders lie.; 
 ** Tlie immortals slumber''d on their tlirones 
 above ^" Pope. 
 
 The objection of the critics is supposed to have been, 
 that an ill-made man, could not be a good racer. See 
 Pope's Note, 
 
 ♦ Iliad IX. 267, 8. — Pope follows the common, and 
 probably the right, acceptation of the word. '* Mix 
 ** purer wine." — Aristotle's interpretation has not made 
 its fortune with the critics. He seems to have produced 
 it rather as an exemplification of the sort of answer 
 which he is here considering, than as an opinion in which 
 he acquiesced himself. It was, probably, an answer 
 which /lad been given. The cavil, according to Plutarch, 
 came from Zoilus, [See the Symposiac Prob, of Plut. V. 4. 
 where this subject is discussed, and several other con- 
 jectural senses of the word Zu^ote^ov are proposed.] 
 
 * Beginning of JL II. — fVhat it was that wanted 
 defence in this passage, and that was to be taken meta- 
 phorically, we are not told. That it was the rcprc- 
 
 4 sentation 
 
 P A R T I V . J 0/ Critical Objections y ^c. 1 95 
 
 Again — 
 
 " When on the Trojan plain his anxious eye 
 
 " Watchful hefix'd^:' - - - 
 And— 
 
 AuXcov (Tu^iyyuiv ff OMAAON ^. - — 
 
 For, ALL*, is put metap/iorically^ instead of 
 ma?ii/ ; all being a species of 77iany. 
 Here also — 
 
 - - - " The Bear aloxe, 
 ** Still shines exalted in th' a^thcrial plain, 
 " Nor bathes his flaming forehead in the main'." 
 
 Pope. 
 
 sentation of the Gods as sleeping, is the most probable 
 conjecture. This is somewhat softened by Mr. Pope's 
 *' slumbered.'* Homer says — *' SLE^T a/I ths nig/it.'' — 
 B.UOOV Trawuxioi* 
 
 * Iliad, X. v. 13. (of the Orig, v. 11.) But Pope's 
 version was not literal enough for my purpose. For the 
 supposed objection, see my note. 
 
 ^ Ibid, 15, 16. — Orig. 13. The sense of the ex- 
 ample may be given, pretty closely, thus : 
 
 " The distant voice of flutes and pipes he mark'd 
 With wonder, and the " busy hum of men." 
 
 But this docs not answer exacdy to the Greek, where 
 the word, which I have rendered /lum, may signify either 
 the hum or murmur of a multitude, or the multitude itself. 
 See the note. 
 
 ^ As the Greek word for all, does not occur in any 
 of the preceding examples, we suppose some example, 
 corresponding to this explanation, to have been lost. 
 
 • i.e. by Synecdoche, See above, p. 166. 
 
 Iliad, XVIII. V. 565, 566, and see the note there. 
 
 O 3 
 
ii 
 
 196 Of Critical Objections, ^'c. [part I v. 
 
 Alone, is metaphorical: the most remarkable 
 thing in any kind, we speak of as the ofili/ one. 
 
 We may have recourse also, 
 
 3. To ACCENT : as the following passage — 
 
 AIAOMEN Se 01 eJ%®' oc^sa-doii'- — 
 
 And this — ro [xiv OT xxrocuvhToci o/xp^w' — werc 
 defended by Hippias of Thasos. 
 
 4. To PUNCTUATION ; as in this passage of 
 
 Empedoclcs : — ■ 
 
 Aiipa ^£ GvriT e(pvovTO toc ttdiv fjLotBov aSocvocT eivctt, 
 ZnPA TE TA nPIN AKPHTA 
 
 i. e. things, before immortal^ 
 
 Mortal became, and mixd before unmix d^, ' 
 
 [Their courses changed.] 
 
 5. To 
 
 * See Pope's Iliad, II. 9, and his note. For the 
 Jesuitical distincdon of Hippias* s Theology, see the 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 3 II. Y. 328.— Pope's transl. XXIII. 402.—" un- 
 *« perished with the rains." According to a difFcrenl 
 accentuation of the word OT, in the original, it would 
 mean, " where perished with the rains. " — See the 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 ♦ The verses allude to the two great physical prin- 
 ciples of Empedoclcs, which he chose lo denominate 
 
 friends/lip and strife, and in which modern philosophers 
 have discovered the Newtonian principles of attraction 
 ar-d rt pulsion. He held everything to be formed of the 
 four eletrents, and resolved into diem again. Friendship 
 was the uniting, strife, the separaiing, principle. The 
 
 elements 
 
 PART IV.] Of Critical Objections, l£c» 1 9 y 
 
 5. To" ambiguity; as in — vx^u^nycsv cTf 
 nAEHN Kjg ^ — where the word XIAEXiN is 
 ambiguous. 
 
 6. To cusTOAiARY spEF.cir: thus, wine mixed 
 with water, or whatever is poured out to drink as 
 wine, is called 0IN02 —wine : hence, Ganymede 
 is said— AiV OINOXOETEIN^ — to " pour the 
 
 (( 
 
 WINE 
 
 elements themselves, in their separate and simple state, 
 were immortal ; the things compounded of them, were 
 mortal; i.e. liable to be resolved mto their first prin- 
 ciples. — As far as we can make anything of this frag- 
 ment, it seems intended to express the two contrary 
 changes of things ; from immortal to mortal, by the 
 uniting principle, and from mortal to immortal, i. e. from 
 mixed to unmixed, by the ctisunitiu^ principle. But the 
 words — " mixed before unmixed^* will, plainly, express 
 either of these changes, according as wc place the' 
 comma, after mixed, or after before. It is imagined, that 
 the critics mistook the punctuation so as to make 
 Empedoclcs express only the same change in different 
 words, and then censured this, as inconsistent with the 
 expression, ** their courses changed,''* [Jja?A:iTT0VTa KEX^iQag 
 — changing their ways,"] 
 
 ' y/. K. 252. — Pope's translation, X. 298. The 
 original says, " more than two parts of the night are past; 
 the third part remains." — This the cavilling critics cen- 
 sured as a sort of bull. What is guessed to have been the 
 answer, the reader may see, but I believe will hardly wish 
 to see, in Dacier's notes. 
 
 * II. T. 234. Pope, XX. 278, &CC. — He rend tvAt — 
 " to bear the cup of Jove.'* 
 
 03 
 
198 Of Critical Objections^ l:fc, [PART I v, 
 
 " WINE to Jove :" though wine is not the liquor 
 of the Gods. This, however, may also be de- 
 fended by metaphor^. 
 
 Thus, again, artificers in iron are called 
 XaAx£tj — literally, brasiers. Of this kind is the 
 expression of the Poet— rK^rj^i? vtorzMXT-d KASSf- 
 TEPOIO'. 
 
 7. When a word, in any passage, appears to 
 express a contradiction^ we must consider, in how 
 many different sensls it may there be taken. 
 Here, for instance — 
 
 * r 9 > 
 
 — T^ ^ EEXETO %aXxgoi/ iyx®^ — 
 
 *' There stuck the lancet" Pope. 
 
 — the meaning is, was stopped only, or repelled. 
 
 Of 
 
 ' The metaphor from species to species. See p. 167. 
 
 • //. O. 592. — Literally, " greaves of //V/." But it is 
 not custcmary speech with «5, to say tin^ for iron or steel. 
 The deck word for tin, however, appears to have been 
 so used. — We are not here to understand the objection 
 to have been pointed at the improper use of a word. 
 The critics took, or pretended to take, the word in its 
 proper sense, and thence objected to the absurdity of tin 
 armour. 
 
 ^ II. XX. 321. — Mr. Pope seems to have translated 
 very accurately here, and to have preserved even the 
 ambiguity of the original; for the verb, to stick, admits, 
 like the Greek word, {Ix^a^^) of two senses; — that of 
 ^^'^"^gfastcned to, or fixed in, and that of being stopped — 
 prevented from going farther, — Sec the note. 
 
 " impene- 
 
 FARTlv.] Of Critical Objections^ bfc, 1 99 
 
 Oihow many different soises a word is capable, 
 may best be discovered by considering the dif- 
 ferent senses that are opposed to it. 
 
 We may also say, with Glauco, that some 
 critics, first take things for granted without 
 foundation, and then argue from these pre- 
 vious decisions of their own; and, having once 
 pronounced their judgment, condemn, as an in- 
 consistence, whatever is contrary to their precon- 
 ceived opinion. Of this kind is the cavil of the 
 critics concerning Icarius\ Taking it for granted, 
 that he was a Lacedaemonian, they thence infer 
 the absurdity of supposing Telemachiis not to 
 have seen him when he went to Laced^emon*. 
 But, perhaps, what the Cephalenians say may 
 be the truth. They assert, that the wife of 
 Ulysses was of their country, and that the name 
 of her father was not IcariuSy but Radius. The 
 
 objection 
 
 - — " impenetrable charms 
 Secur'd the temper of th' aetherial arms. 
 Thro' tivo strong plates the point its passage held, 
 But stopped, and rested, 6y the third repeWd'y 
 Five plates of various metal, various mold, 
 ComposM the shield ; of brass each outward fold, 
 Of tin each inward, and the middle, gold : 
 There stuck the lance." - - - - 
 
 « Mentioned by Homer as the father of Penelope. 
 * See Pope's Odyssey^ IV. 
 
 04 
 
2CX) Of Critical Objectionsy^c. [part iv, 
 
 objection itself^ therefore, is probably founded 
 on a mistake. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Censure fhe Impossibky in general, is to be justified by 
 Impossibi- referring, either to the end of Pottry itself, or to 
 farther what is bcst, OX to opimo/i. 
 
 cousidercd. ^ ■* 
 
 For, with respect to Poetry, impossibilities, 
 rendered probable, are preferable to things im- 
 probable, though possible^, 
 
 ■ With respect also to what is best^, the imita- 
 tions of Poetry should resemble the paintings of 
 Zeuxis^: the example should be more perfect 
 than nature. 
 
 To 
 
 3 See Pari III. Seci. 6. and Note^, p. 184. 
 
 ^ Improved nature, ideal beauty, &c. which, else- 
 where, is expressed by, what s/ibuU be. Compare the 
 beginning of this Part, and Sect, 3. — Part I. Sect. 3. — 
 Part II. Sect, IS-p- 146. 
 
 * " In ancient days, while Greece was flourishing in 
 *' liberty and arts, a celebrated painter, [Zeuxisy'] having 
 " drawn many excellent pictures for a certain free state, 
 *' and been generously rewarded for his labours, at last 
 *' made an offer to pukit them a Helen, as a moe/el and 
 " exemplar of ihe most exquisite beauty. The proposal 
 ** was readily accepted, when the artist informed them, 
 " that in order to draw one Fair, it was necessary he 
 " should contemplate many. He demanded therefore a 
 '* si^ht of all their finest women. The state, to assist 
 
 «* the 
 
 PART IV.] Of Critical Objections, &c. ' lot 
 
 To opiniony or what is commonly said to 
 he, may be referred even such things as are 
 improbable and absurd; and it may also be 
 said, that events of that kind are, sometimes, 
 not really improbable ; since *' it is probable, 
 that many things should happen contrary to 
 probabihty^' 
 
 .6 " 
 
 TKNCE. 
 
 VII. 
 
 When thinss are said, which appear to be Ixconi 
 contradictory, we must examine them as we do 
 in logical confutatidti : whether the same thing be 
 spoken of; whether in the same respect, and in 
 the same sense, ******* 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Improbability, and vitious manners, when ex- Impiioba- 
 cused by no necessity, are just objects of critical and 
 
 VITlOUS 
 
 censure. Such is the improbability in the JEgeus'^ chabacteb, 
 of Euripides, and the vitious character of Mene- 
 laus in his Orestes^, 
 
 Thus, 
 
 *< the work, assented to his request. They were 
 
 " exhibited before him; he selected the most beautiful; 
 
 *' and from these formed his Helen, more beautiful than 
 
 '* them all." — Harris's Three Treatises, p. 216, 
 
 • See Part II. Sect. 20, at the end; and note 156. 
 
 ^ Of this Tragedy, some inconsiderable fragments 
 only remain. 
 
 * See p. 144. 
 
JUcapituIa- 
 tion. 
 
 202 Of Critical Objections y Iff c. [part I v. 
 
 Thus, the sources from ^hich the critics 
 draw their objections are five: they object to 
 things as impossiblcy or improbable, or of inwioi^al 
 tendency^ or' contradictory, or contrary to tech- 
 nical accuracy. The answers, which are twelve 
 in number, may be deduced from what has 
 been said^ 
 
 ^ The reader, who regards his own ease, will, I 
 believe, do well to take this for granted. If however 
 he has any desire to try the experiment, he may read the 
 NOTE on this passage ; and I wish it may answer to 
 him. 
 
 [ 203 ] 
 
 PARTY. 
 
 OF THE SUPERIORITY OFTRAGIC TO 
 
 EPIC POETRY. 
 
 I. 
 
 TT may be inquired, farther, which of the two Objectioh 
 ■^ imitations, the Epic, or tlie Tragic^ deserves Tbacedt. 
 the preference. 
 
 If that, which is the least vulgar, or popular, 
 of the two, be the best, and that be such, which 
 is calculated for the better sort of spectators — the 
 imitation, which extends to every circumstance ', 
 must, evidently, be the most vulgar, or popular; 
 for there, the imitators have recourse to every kind 
 of motion and gesticulation, as if the audience, 
 without the aid of action, were incapable of 
 understanding them : like bad flute-players, who 
 whirl themselves round, when they would imitate 
 the motion of the Discus, and pull the Coryphaeus, 
 when Scylla is the subject*. Such is Tragedy. 
 
 It 
 
 * Though Aristotle instances in gesture only, the 
 objection, no doubt, extended to the whole imitative re- 
 presentation of the theatre, including the stage and 
 scenery, by which place is imitated, and the dresses, which 
 are necessary to complete the imitation of the persons, 
 
 * See the notes. 
 
a04 Superiority of Tragic to Epic Poetry, [part r. 
 
 It may also be compared to what the modern 
 actors are in the estimation of their predecessors ; 
 for Myjusctts used to call Callipides, on account 
 of his intemperate action, the ^/?e; 'dnA Tyndarus 
 was censured on the same account. What these 
 performers are with respect to their predecessors, 
 the Tragic imitation, when entire, is to the Epic. 
 The latter, then, it is urged, addresses itself to 
 hearers of the better sort, to whom the addition 
 of gesture is superfluous : but Tragedy is for the 
 people^] and being, therefore, the most vulgar 
 kind of imitation, is evidently the inferior. 
 
 II. 
 The But now, in the first place, this censure falls, 
 
 answere" . not upon the Poefs art, but upon that of the^rc/or; 
 for the gesticulation may be equally laboured in 
 the recitation of an Epic Poem, as it was by 
 Sosistratus ; and in singings as by Muasitheus, the 
 Opuntlan, 
 
 Again — All gesticulation is not to be con- 
 demned ; since even all dancing is not ; but such 
 onlv, as is unbecoming — such as was objected 
 to Callipidcs, and is now objected to others, 
 
 whose 
 
 ^ " It must be allowed, that stage-poetry, of all 
 ** other, is more particularly levelled to please the 
 ** populace, and its success more immediately depending 
 ** upon the common suffrage," Pope's Pref to Shaks* 
 peare. 
 
 PART v.] Superiority of Tragic to Epic Poetry, 205 
 
 whose gestures resemble those of immodest 
 women *. # 
 
 Farther — Tragedy, as \vell as the Epic, is 
 capable of producing its effect, even without 
 action ; we can judge of it perfectly by reading \ 
 If, then, in other respects. Tragedy be superior, 
 it is sufficient that the fault here objected is not 
 essential to it. 
 
 6. _..j Tragedj. 
 
 III. 
 
 Tragedy has the advantage in the following Advan- 
 respects. — It possesses all that is possessed by of 
 the Epic; it might even adopt its metre ^: and 
 to this it makes no inconsiderably addition, in the 
 Music and the Decoration ; by the latter of which, 
 the illusion is heightened, and the pleasure, 
 arising from the action, is rendered more sensible 
 and striking. 
 
 It has the advantage of greater clearness and 
 distinctness of impression, as well in ixadirig^ as 
 in representation. ^ 
 
 ♦ As no actresses were admitted on the Greek stage, 
 their capital actors must frequently have appeared in 
 female parts, such as, Electra^ Jphigenia, Mcdea^ &c. 
 This is sufficiently proved by many passages of antient 
 authors; and among others, by a remarkable story of 
 an eminent Greek Tragic actor, told by Aulus Gellius. 
 See the note. 
 
 * So above, p. 121, — " the power of Tragedy is felt 
 " without respresentation and actors." 
 
 • See NOTE 36, 
 
2o6 Superiority of Tragic to Epic Poetry, [part v. 
 
 It has also that, of attaining the end of its 
 imitation in a shorter compass : for the etfect is 
 more pleasurable, when produced by a short and 
 close series of impressions, than when weakened 
 by diffusion through a long extent of time ; as 
 the Oedipus of Sophocles, for example, would 
 be, if it were drawn out to tlie length of the 
 Iliad, 
 
 Farther : there is less laiili/ "^ in all Epic imi- 
 tation; as appears from this — that any i-pic 
 Poem will furnish matter for several Tragedies. 
 For, supposing the Poet to chuse a idhX^ strictly 
 ofw, the consequence must bo, either, that his 
 Poem, if proportionably contracted, will appear 
 curtailed and defective, of, if extended to the 
 usual length, will become weak, and, as it were, 
 diluted. If, on the other hand, we suppose him 
 to employ several fables — that is, a fable com- 
 posed of several actions^ — his imitation is no 
 longer strictly one. The Iliad, for example, and 
 the Odyssey contain many such subordinate parts, 
 each of which has a certain magnitude, and unity, 
 
 of 
 
 ^ See p. 59, Note^, 
 
 ' Compare Part II. Sect. 20, and Note 9. — Arlstode 
 is not here speaking of that unconnected, historical 
 multiplicity of action, which he had before condemned, 
 [Part III. Sect, I.] but of such as was essential to the 
 nature of the Epic Poem. -This is plain, from the 
 example, which immediately follows ; and, indeed, from 
 the very drift of his argument. 
 
 PART v.] Superiority of Tragic to Epic Poetry, 207 
 
 of its own: yet is the construction of those 
 Poems as perfect, and as nearly approaching to 
 the imitation of a single action, as possible. 
 
 IV. 
 
 If then Tragedy be superior to the Epic in 
 all these respects, and, also, in the peculiar end 
 at which it aims^, (for each species ought to 
 afford, not any sort of pleasure indiscriminately, 
 but such only as has been pointed out,) it 
 evidently follows, that Tragedy, as it attains 
 more effectually the end of the art itself, must 
 deserve the preference. 
 
 Prefer- 
 ence 
 of 
 Tragedt. 
 
 SION. 
 
 And thus much concerning Tragic and Conclw 
 Epic Poetry in general, and their several 
 species — the number and the differences of their 
 parts — the causes of their beauties and their 
 defects — the censures of critics, and the prin- 
 ciples on which they are to be answered, 
 
 ^ i.e. according to Arlstode's principles, to give 
 " that pleasure, which arises from terror and pity, through 
 " imitation J* See p, 139. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
t 209 ] 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 1. 
 P. 101. DlTHYRAMBICS — IMITATION. 
 
 T F the senses, in which the term imitation is 
 -*■ appHed by Aristotle to Poetry, have been 
 rightly determined in the first Dissertation, there 
 can be no difficulty with respect to the imitative 
 nature of the Epic and Dramatic species. That 
 of the Dithyrambic is not quite so obvious, and 
 has accordingly been variously explained. The 
 little, however, that remains of what Aristotle 
 had said upon this subject, seems sufficient to 
 release any commentator, who is willing to be re- 
 leased, from the trouble of conjectural ingenuity. 
 In Sect, 3. Part I. where the different objects 
 of imitation are considered, he expressly makes 
 Dithyrambic Poetry imitative of actions, charac- 
 ters, and manners, as well as the Epic and 
 Dramatic; and he, particularly, mentions the 
 Persians and the Cyclops as imitated in the 
 VOL. I. p Dithyrambic 
 
116 NOTES. 
 
 Dithyrambic and Noiiiic Poetry of Timotheus 
 and PhUoxenus*. We may conclude, then, that 
 he rctyarded this kind of Poetry as imitative 
 because, though the mythological tales, whicli 
 furnished the subject of these hymns, were, in- 
 deed, articles of Pagan faith, and depended not 
 on the Poet's imagination, yet, in the detail of 
 these stories, in describing the actions, and de- 
 lineatin<^ the chmacters, of the deities themselves, 
 and, still more, of other fabulous and heroic 
 personages occasionally introduced, his fancy 
 and invention must necessarily be, more or less, 
 employed. Tliis, as we have seen, was, in 
 Aristotle's view, imitation ; whether the form of 
 that imitation was partly dratnatic and person- 
 ativc, or mere recital in the person of the 
 Poet\ That the Poetry of these Dithyrambic 
 compositions was chiefly of the latter kind, seems 
 to be implied in the expression of Plato, who, 
 where he explains his division of Poetry into 
 three sorts—the purely imitative^ or dramatic, 
 the purely mrrative, and the wi.re^/— refers, for 
 an example of the purely narrative, to Dithyr- 
 ambic Poetry. Yet he says only, tliat it is to be 
 found chiefly there — lM^oi<; S' dv auttji/ MAAISTA 
 nor U £^i^M^ctii.^oki ^ The expression is remark- 
 able, and leaves room for more than a conjecture, 
 
 that 
 
 » — ui nEPXAX HOI KTKAnnA2 Ti/*o5£®- hm 
 * Diss. I. p. 36. ' Kep. lib. iii. p. 394 
 
 NOTES; 211 
 
 that the Dithyrambic was sometimes imitative 
 even in the strict sense of Plato ; that is, that 
 the diamatic mixture of the Epic was occasion- 
 ally admitted. Instances of this occur in the 
 Odes of Pindar **; and many of the Odes of 
 Horace are dramatic*. 
 
 The embarrassment of the commentators seems 
 to have arisen, principally, from the difficulty 
 they found in conceiving, that Jiction could be 
 admitted into a species of Poetry addressed to the 
 Gods, and founded on the established Theology 
 of the age. The hymns of Callimachus, and 
 those attributed to Homer, might have been 
 sufficient to remove this difficulty. These are not, 
 like the Orphic hymns, mere invocations, and 
 indigitamenta, consisting in a short and solenm 
 accumulation of epithets and attributes : they are 
 Epic, narrative hymns \ in which the birth, the 
 actions, and even the characters and manners of 
 
 the 
 
 ^ OlympA. Jntist. y, where Pelops speaks. See also 
 Olymp.YLEpodca, and y,—Olymp. VIII. A>.|9.- And 
 
 the prophecy of Ampliiaraus, in Pyth. VIH. Strophe y . 
 
 and of Medea, Pyth. IV. Jntht. a, to j^ntnt 7.— The 
 Odes o^^Pindar, indeed, are not strictly Dithyrambic 
 Poetry ; but the chief difference was probably that of 
 their subjects, 
 
 * See Dr. Warton's Essay on Pope, vol.ii.44, &c. 
 where the beauties of those dramatic Odes, and par:u u- 
 larly of the fifth Epode^ arc pointed out and illustrated 
 with much taste. 
 
 P 2 
 
211 NOTES, 
 
 the deities are described at length, and the fic- 
 tions of tiie Poet's imagination are every where 
 engrafted upon the popular creed. The mixture 
 of dramatic imitation, in the Dithyrambic Poetry, 
 is also rendered more probable by the frequent 
 examples of it in these hymns ; and especially in 
 those of Homer. From the enthusiastic, wild, 
 audacious character^ peculiarly attributed to the 
 Bacchic hymns, we have, surely, no reason to 
 suppose in them a degree of scruple and reserve, 
 with respect to all this, which we do not find in 
 other antient religious compositions of a more 
 sober and regular cast. 
 
 After what has been said, the reader will 
 hardly think it necessary to have recourse to 
 so distant and conjectural an interpretation as 
 that of the Abbe Eatteux, who says—'' Le 
 '' Dithyrambe est imitation, parceque le Poetc, 
 " en le composant, exprime d'apres le vraisem- 
 " blable, les sentimens, les transports, Tivrcsse, 
 " qui doit regner dans le Dithyrambe ^ This 
 ingenious writer seems to have been forced into 
 this solution of the matter by his desire of 
 extending the pimiciple of Poetic imitation be- 
 yond the limits, not only of Aristotle's meaning, 
 but of all reasonable analogy. //// Lyric Poetry 
 he holds to be essentially/ imitative; and de- 
 fining it to be that Poetry, " gid exprwie Ic 
 
 " senti- 
 
 '*" Audaces Dithyrambos." Hor, 
 
 « Ch. i, of his translation ;— w/^, under the text. 
 
 N O T E ^. 213 
 
 sentiment^,'' he is reduced to the necessity of 
 
 making out these sentiments, ov feelings, to be, 
 
 in some sort, imitatiojis ; for no other reason, 
 
 than, that they are assumed and feigned — the 
 
 temporary produce of that voluntary enthusiasm* 
 
 which the Poet, by the force of his imagination, 
 
 excites in himself durinfj the moments of com- 
 
 position. But this belongs rather to the style 
 
 and manner, than to the matter, of Poetry : if 
 
 imitation at all, it is the imitation, not, properly, 
 
 of the Poet, but of the man, in order to become 
 
 the Poet. — The general character of Lyric 
 
 Poetry is enthusiasm ; and enthusiasm, says 
 
 M. Batteux, ** n'est autre chose quiin sentiment 
 
 " quel quit soit — amour, colere, joie, admira- 
 
 " tion, tristesse, &c. — produit par une idee'.'' 
 
 But if all illusive feelings of this kind, raised 
 
 in us bv ima<iination. are imitations, then, not 
 
 only every artist of genius is an imitator, when 
 
 he conceives and plans his work, but even every 
 
 man of sensibility, whenever he is led, by the 
 
 voluntary excursions of his fancy, into warm 
 
 and passionate feelings, that are not prompted by 
 
 real circumstances. — It is certain, indeed, that 
 
 not only Dithyrambic and Lyric Poetry, but 
 
 Epic also, and perhaps every other species worth 
 
 regardinft 
 
 ^ See his Beaux Arts reduits a un mime principey 
 ch. on Lyric Poetry: and vol. iii. of his Principes de la 
 literature, ch. i. Tralte 6. 
 
 * Principes de la Lit, Trait e 6,ch,u 
 
 P3 
 
214 NOTES. 
 
 regarding, has its appropriated style and tone, 
 which every Poet adopts and imitates^ when he 
 composes in the kind to which it belongs. But 
 the same may be said of a history, a sermon, and 
 even of a letter : for in tliese also, though we 
 may not imitate any particular writer, we natu- 
 rally conform to the general style and manner 
 that characterize ilie particular species of com- 
 position. All tliis however has, manifestly, 
 nothing to do with the imitation that we are 
 considering. 
 
 The Lyric Poet is not always, and essentially, 
 an imitator, any more than the Epic. While h^ 
 is merely expressing his own sentiments, in his 
 own pcf\son, we consider him not as imitating; — 
 we inquire not whether they are the assumed 
 sentiments of the Poetic character, or the real 
 sentiments of the writer himself; we do not even 
 think of any such distinction. He is understood 
 to imitate, in the most general view, no other* 
 wise than by fiction, by personation, by descrip- 
 tion, or by sound ^; in the view of Aristotle, only 
 by the two first of these. 
 
 I will only add, that the Dithyrambic Poeti-y 
 was, it seems, not originally imitative, but became 
 so by degrees. This fact, and the causes of it, we 
 Itprn from a curious passage, in the Harmonic 
 Problems of Aristotle, which 1 shall have occasion 
 to mention in another place. 
 
 * See Z>/ii^r/. I, pt 32. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 215 
 
 NOTE 2. 
 
 P. 102. For as men, somje through 
 
 ART, AND SOME THROUGH HABIT, IMITATE 
 VARIOUS OBJECTS, &C. 
 
 I have followed the old and most authentic 
 reading, hoe, mq ^XINHS : which, though not un- 
 exceptionable, has been rejected, I think, without 
 sufficient reason. The philosopher is, here, only 
 illustrating what he had said of the different 
 means of poetical and musical imitation, by com- 
 paring those arts, in this respect, witli other arts 
 more strictlif and obviously imitative* That he 
 meant to confine his illustration to Painting, w as a 
 groundless fancy of Dacier, which led him into two 
 unnecessary corrections of the text, and a very 
 forced and improbable explication of the whole 
 passage. The remark of Aristotle, parenthetically 
 flung in, about art and habit, (©» /xtv ha, rs^vn^y 
 ot ^f hoc <ruvn9£ia?,) was by no means necessari/ to 
 his illustration. Dacier extends the parenthesis 
 by the reading he adopts, (o* iaiv hoc rs^vn^:, h h 
 hot, (TuptjOfta?, iTff 01 h Ar AM^OIN,) then wonders, 
 why Aristotle, "qui n'ecrit pas un seul mot 
 ** inrttilement,'' should enter into such a detail; 
 and then, wantonly alters the text, (from %( 
 Tiyyviiy to hot, TTXHI,) in order to account for it 
 in a manner, that leaves it more wonderful than 
 he found it. Castelvetro had before proposed a 
 
 p 4 a similar 
 
2i6 NOTES. 
 
 a similar alteration— m^o* $i AM^OTEPOIS ; but 
 in a sense, which, could it be supported, would 
 be far more to the purpose Than that of Dacier : 
 i. e. " others, again, [imitate] both by colour 
 " and by figure." This would answer to what 
 follows, — that the different 7?i€afis of imitation, in 
 the Poetical and Musical arts, were used, some- 
 times separattli/y and sometimes combined. To 
 this sense, however, an objection immediately 
 occurs. We may imitate an object by figure 
 without colour, but not by colour without figure. 
 This difficulty, indeed, Castelvetro endeavours 
 to get rid of, by understanding o-p^njtAaTa, here, to 
 denote only the solid form of Sculpture, and 
 ^^u{AXTXj Painting, as chicfJy characterized by 
 colour ; and, thus, for an example of imitation by 
 both those means, he is forced to have recourse 
 to the coloured Sculpture of the antients*. But 
 
 it 
 
 * That the antients sometimes coloured their statues, 
 is well known. From many passages which might be 
 produced as proofs, I shall select one from Plato, which 
 is curious, and would be, alone, decisive. It is in the 
 beginning of his 4th book Dc Repub, — It had been ob- 
 jected, that, by the severity of his laws relating to his 
 ^u>wcig or magistrates, they were reduced to a worse 
 condition, with respect to happiness, than the rest of the 
 cm^cns. His answer is, that the aim of his legislation 
 was, not to provide for the superior happiness of any 
 one part of his commonwealth, but for the greatest 
 possible happiness of the whole, *' Suppose," says 
 4 Socrates^ 
 
 NOTES. 217 
 
 it would be a waste of discussion to enter fully 
 into the merits of an explanation, that is founded 
 on a reading, by no means, I think, sufficiently 
 warranted, either by the authority of MSS. or by 
 any necessity of alteration. 
 
 That the words p^^wjuara and (r;^»ijuaT« are very 
 frequently joined by the Greet writers to denote 
 painting, is certain**. But Aristotle is not here 
 speaking of the different Arts which employ 
 these meam of imitation^ but of the means them- 
 selves, 
 
 Socrates, " we were painting a statue ; and any one 
 '* should come, and object to us, as a fault, that we did 
 ^' not apply the most beautiful colours to the most 
 " beautiful parts of the body — that we had made the 
 " eyes^ for instance, black, when we should have given 
 *' them, as being the chief beauty of the human form, 
 " a purple colour. — It would," continues Socrates, " be 
 " a very reasonable apology, if we should request this 
 *' critic not to insist on our making the eyes so beautiful, 
 *• as to have no longer the appearance of eyes ; but to 
 *' consider, only, whether, by giving to each part its 
 ** proper colour, we should not make the whole beau- 
 " tiful.— This is precisely the apology 1 make for our 
 <* legislation : I request the objector, not to insist on our 
 ** allotting to the guardians of the state such a happiness, 
 " as would render them any thing else rather than 
 ** guardiam^^ &c. Plato De Rep, lib, iv. p. 420. C. 
 Ed, Ser. O.d'BSi^ h av ei — &c. 
 
 # 
 
 -*• See Jrist, de Rep, lib. viii. cap. 5. p. 455. C, 
 Plat, de Rep, x. p. 601. A. De Leg, ii. p. 669. A. 
 
• 
 
 2i8 NOTES. 
 
 selves, separately and abstractedly. The appli- 
 cation of tliese, singly, or in their various com- 
 binations, to those arts, he lias left to the reader. 
 It seems probable, (as Victorius has observed,) 
 that Sculpture, at least, was included in Aristotle's 
 idea of cp^npara. Possibly, too, the word may be 
 here used in its widest sense, oi figure ox form 
 in general; which would take mikiQ.' outline of 
 Painting, the solid figure of Sculpture*", and the 
 gestures of the personal Mimic. 
 
 That, at least, the word ^wm is right, in the 
 old reading, appears highly probable from the 
 jfrequent mention of the voice, as a principal 
 instrument of imitation, in antient authors'*. It 
 is called by Aristotle, as Mr. Winstanley has 
 
 judiciously obseiTCd, irootriAiy fAifxriTixuraroy rcyy 
 
 Farther — by this reading the illustration in- 
 tended is more perfect, asxit comprehends more 
 *^ means of different kinds'' — FENEI In^a. The 
 same reason favours also the extension of the word 
 r;^t}jw.aT« to Sculpture, at least 
 
 The only objection to the reading, fix mg 
 ^wyjif, is, the improbability that Aristotle should, 
 
 m 
 
 without 
 
 *^ Xx>^fAa is defined by Socrates, in the Me no of 
 Plato, to be, ire^a^ reffs — *' the boundary of W/V/ form." 
 
 * See Diss, I, towards the end, Note\ Ficiorius dt- 
 fends the reading on the same ground, 
 
 * Rhet, lU?, iii. cap, 1.^4. 
 
 NOTES. 219 
 
 without any apparent reason, envelop the whole 
 passage in embarrassment and ambiguity, by 
 such a change of phrase : — AIA <pmi\g ; — which 
 every reader is naturally led to join, not with the 
 
 datives, ^^ufxoKri, hmi (rp^rjjutao-*, but with AIA 
 T£;^mf, and AIA a-vvrihiag : but the word <puyr,g 
 opposing such a construction, has therefore, pro- 
 bably, been changed to »[A(poiv. — This objection 
 has not been solidly answered, I think, either by 
 Victorius, or any other commentator ; nor can I 
 think the change of phra,se here by any means 
 sufficiently accounted for, merely by assigning, as 
 Victorius does, a passage of Lucian, where the 
 phrase itself (to which no one objects,) occurs. 
 [See Mr. Winstanley 's note.] — I am much in- 
 clined, therefore, to admit the reading said by 
 Madius to have been found in an antient MS. 
 and confirming the conjecture of Robortelli,^— 
 In^Qi h THt ^X2NHt. This would clearly mark 
 the bounds of the parenthesis, and fix the con- 
 struction : x«» Xf"/**^*> ^°^^ o'PC'"'**^*? ttqXXk 
 
 NOTE 3. 
 
 P. 102. And of any other instruments 
 
 CAPABLE OF A SIMILAR EFFECT, AS, THE 
 SYRINX OR^PIPE. 
 
 The word 2u^iyg is usually understood to 
 mean the Fistula Panis, constructed of reeds, 
 
 differing 
 
220 NOTES. 
 
 differing in length, fastened together with wax and 
 thread: — xocXocfMm (rvvir,xn, Xivw xxi xu^w (rvvh^mrx — 
 as it is described by Jul. Pollux *. Tibullus has 
 presented in two lines almost as distinct an idea 
 of its form as can be obtained from a drawing. 
 
 Fistula cui semper decrescit arundinis ordo, 
 
 Nam calamus ceri jungitur usque minor, 
 
 [Lib.ii. 5.31.] 
 
 But the Suf lyg of Aristotle, whatever it was, is 
 here mentioned with the Lyre, and the Flute, as 
 having some, though an inferior, degree of the 
 same pc/wer and effect: — roiocvroci Tijy ^uva^iv. 
 This is hardly applicable to so very simple and 
 rude an instrument as the pipe of Pan; a con- 
 trivance not beyond the invention of a school-boy. 
 Instruments of nearly the same construction are 
 found, at this day, not only in Turkey, and Arabia, 
 but even in the island of New Amsterdam in the 
 South Seas^ and it is a circumstance somewhat 
 curious, that, in France, the instrument of the 
 Arcadian deity, or something very like it, is de- 
 graded to the use of travelling tinkers, and known 
 by the name of sijiet de chaudrmnier. The 
 reader may see a description and a figure of it in 
 Mersennus'; as he may, also, of the South Sea 
 instrument in the Philosophical Transactions, 
 vol.65, Part L— But he .will not, probably, be 
 
 much 
 
 * Onomast. lib, iv. cap. 9. 
 
 •» Dr.Burney's Hist, of Musicy vol. i. p,S^^ 
 
 * Harmonic, p. 73. 
 
 NOTES. 221 
 
 much disposed to believe, that the wild and 
 random sounds of this savage whistle have any 
 thing to do with the chromatic system of the 
 Greeks. 
 
 But the passage before us is not the only one, 
 where the Si/rina: is mentioned in a way which 
 naturally leads one to suppose, that some instru- 
 ment less simple and imperfect than the fistula 
 Panis must be meant. It is often joined with the 
 cithara and the flute, as an instrument of some 
 importance and effect in concerts and choral 
 accompaniments*. In Lucian's treatise Us^i 
 0^;^»j(r£wf, it appears, among other curious in- 
 formation upon the subject, that the words of 
 the drama, which the pantomimic dancer was to 
 express by gesture alone, were, at the same time, 
 sung by a chorus, accompanied by various instru- 
 ments, among which the syrinx is repeatedly 
 mentioned, together with the AuX^ or flute ^ 
 This has, certainly, the appearance of some more 
 powerful instrument than the pastoral syrinx. — 
 Indeed, from the passage of Pollux above re- 
 ferred to, there is reason to conclude, that there 
 were two instruments of this denomination ; that 
 above described, wliich he calls the rude, or ej:- 
 tanporaneous syrinx, [auroa-p^cJ'*^] and another, 
 
 of 
 
 ^ See Spanheim, in Callimachum — Hymn, in Diananij 
 
 V.243- - 
 
 • Ed, Bcnedictiy p. 942, E.— 938, D, E.— 945, B. 
 
222 NOTES. 
 
 of similar form, but more artificial c6nstraction, 
 which he describes as consisting, not of reeds, 
 but of a number o^ flutes, [aJxoi TroXAoi] arranged 
 in the same manner. The passage is defective ; 
 but this seems to me pretty clearly to be the 
 drift of it^ By flutes, he must, at least, be sup- 
 posed to mean pipes of larger size, and of more 
 solid materials, such as tliose of which flutes 
 were made. 
 
 It seems, on the whole, very probable, that the 
 syrinx of Aristotle was e/Mcr some such improved . 
 construction of the flute of Pan, or, as I rather 
 incline to believe, some kind of single pipe, or 
 flageolet. Any single pipe, modulated by the 
 fingers, must be regarded as an instrument far 
 superior to any kind of the fistula Panis, that 
 could be played on only by the clumsy expedient 
 of drawing it along the mouth ; — " supr^ calamos 
 " unco percuiTere labro," as Lucretius has well 
 described the operation^. I cannot indeed say, 
 
 that 
 
 ^ The passage should, I think, be written as defective, 
 
 thus : >> /*EV av, (sc. av^iyi,) KaXafxav ht o-vvQrv€v] ^ivoj km x>jf» 
 
 a-vv'^i^eia'a, hys avTOa-x^^i^* ******#♦ 
 
 ATAOl 7ro>^oif htaa7^ u. t. o>^, — Salmasius supplied 
 
 the hiatus thus : — AAA* 'H ZnOTAAIOTEPA, al,\oi 
 
 'jro>^iy Sec. — I would not answer for the very ivor^^s ; 
 
 but that something equivalent is omitted, I have litde 
 
 doubt. See Ed, Hempst, p. 387. AVr 43. — where, by the 
 
 way, Kuhnius commends the emendation, but appears 
 
 to misunderstand it. 
 
 « Lib, V. 1406. 
 
 NOTES. 22? 
 
 that I have met with any passage in which the 
 word Sufi-yJ, by itself, is clearly and expressly 
 applied to a single musical pipe or flute. But 
 such a sense is perfectly analogous to other 
 common applications of tlie word ^ ; and, on the 
 other hand, I know of no clear authority that 
 restrains the meaning of the word, whenever it 
 is singly used, to the fistula Panis. Atheneeus 
 speaks of the /xokoxaXa/A(^ SoftyH invented by 
 Mercuiy, and opposes it to the TroAuxaXajt*^ ' ; 
 and Spanheim'', whose authority, in matters of 
 erudition, is as great as the profoundest erudition 
 can give to any man, understands this single-reed 
 syrinx to be meant in the hymn to Mercury attri- 
 buted to Homer, where it is said of that god, 
 that— 
 
 ITPirrriN \voisiiv 7roiy}(rciiTo THAOe' 
 AKOYITHN. v. 509. 
 
 — a mode of characterizing the tone of the in- 
 strument, that reminds one of the " ear-piercing 
 fife' of Shakspeare. 
 
 After all, a modern reader may be still sur- 
 prised to find any degree of imitation, or expres" 
 sion, attributed to so trifling an instrument as a 
 
 flageolet, 
 
 ^ Vide Lexica : and see Dr. Burney's Hist of Music, 
 vol. i. p. 511, where it is righdy observed, that '' cack 
 
 u 
 
 of the pipes" which composed the fistula Panis, "was, 
 properly, a Sr^^tvi." 
 
 » P. 184. k Ubi supra. 
 
224 NOTES, 
 
 flageolet, or a common flute. But, in reading 
 antient . authors, it is frequently necessary, if we 
 would either relish, or even understand them, 
 properly, to lay aside modern ideas. And if this 
 be necessary in general, it is, perhaps, peculiarly 
 so in the subject of Music. Expression, in our 
 musical language, usually conveys the idea of 
 delicate and refined performance, and is almost 
 appropriated to emotions of the tender and pa- 
 thetic kind. But, with the antients, imiiation, or 
 expression (for tlie words appear to have been 
 synonymous \) extended to every kind of emotion; 
 to every tjfect produced, in any considerable 
 degree, by Music upon the mind. Now very 
 simple instruments, as well as very simple music, 
 are capable of making impressions, and strong 
 impressions, of the Joi/ous kind, without any de- 
 licacy or refinement, either in the composition, or 
 the execution. It is not, therefore, strange, that 
 the syrinx, a shrill and lively pipe, should be 
 ranked by Aristotle as an instrument of so}7ie ex- 
 pression ; especially if, as it seems probable, the 
 syrinx, of xvhatever kind, was considered as a 
 pastoral instrument, and its expressions were, in 
 consequence, aided by the association of rural 
 and pastoral ideas". The rude syrinx of Pan 
 
 was 
 
 * See Diss. II. 
 
 " " One of the most affecting styles in music is the 
 pastoral. Some airs," [we may add, and those imtru- 
 
 mentSy 
 
 NOTES. 225 
 
 * 
 
 was unquestionably of this kind, and appropri- 
 ated to pastoral use"; and, as far as it can be 
 supposed to have affected by association, mii^ht. 
 in the musical language of the Greeks, and by a 
 hearer who felt that effect from it, be considered 
 and spoken of as imitative, u ithout impropriety. 
 But being, as I conceive, of too simple and in- 
 convenient a construction to admit of any expres- 
 sion but what it derived purely from assoeiated 
 ideas, it would not, I think, have been joined by 
 Aristotle with the 7}iost expressive and rejined in- 
 struments of the antients, the cithara, and the/wfe'*, 
 and mentioned as of " similar power and effect'' 
 
 merits, also, on which we have been used to hear those 
 airs performed,] " put us in mind of the country, of 
 '' rural sights and rural sounds, and dispose the heart to 
 '' that chearful tranquilHty, that pleasing melancholy, 
 •* that '* vernal delight^'' which groves and streams, 
 *• flocksandherds, hills and vallies, inspire.*' Dr.Beattic 
 ^^-Essay on Poetry and Music, p. 142. 
 
 ° Plato, Rep. iii. p. 399. Serran. 
 
 *» Aristotle, in the 8lh book De Republica, cap. vi. 
 where he is considering what instruments should be used 
 in the musical education of children, excludes the cithara, 
 as too complicated and difficult for any but professors. He 
 calls it rtx^LKov o^yavov, and ranks it with the a^A©- or 
 flute. Plato, however, admits the use of the cithara in 
 his republic, as a more simple instrument than the flute, 
 which he forbids. [Rep, iii. ubi supra.l For some idea 
 of the delicacy and refinement of execution, and force 
 of expression, (xp ctcil from the accomplished Av>mr\iy 
 I refer the < adcr to t'lr H ^rmonides o\ Lutian, and to a 
 pass ge in Philostraius, Ed. Moru. p. 228. 
 
 VOL. 1. Q 
 
 
 y\ 
 
a26 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 4. 
 
 P. 102. For there are dancers who bt 
 
 RHYTHM applied TO GESTURE - - -. 
 
 The Greek is — o* twi/ Q^x^ruy: but there is 
 great reason to suspect the reading. It is gene- 
 rally rendered, " Some dancers : " but Victorius, 
 -who understands it in that sense, s^ys—durus 
 iamen sermo; and produces no authority for 
 such a phrase. Heinsius proposed — ot nOAAOI 
 ruv o^x'^fw. The learned reader may, perhaps, 
 agree with me, that - -ENIo* twv ©fX"^"*'* would be 
 preferable, as nearer to the text. It is not pro- 
 bable, that the degree of imitative skill here de- 
 scribed was possessed by all dancers, or even by 
 " the greater parf of them. A passage from 
 Aristocles is preserved by Athenaeus, in which 
 Telestes, a dancer employed by iEschylus, is men- 
 tioned as remarkable for this talent: — OTTX22 
 
 HN TEXNITH2, wn, 6> tw o^x^trixi raj Evrx Im 
 
 [Jther?.p, 22.] This dancing appears plainly to 
 have been of that kind, which was afterwards 
 pushed to such an excess of cultivation by the 
 pantomimic dancers in the age of Augustus ' ; 
 and which is well known to have divided all 
 
 Rome 
 
 • — HUTa Tov 2EBA2TON tAoCKLTo," at (xev 7«f arfwToi 
 mav. — Lucian, d€ Salt, p. 927. EJ. Bemd. 
 
 NOTES. 227 
 
 Rome into parties, and even, frequently, to have 
 made the theatre a scene of bloodshed ^ Of this 
 fact, I cannot helpadditig, that a proof somewhat 
 curious is furnished by Valerius Maximus ; who, 
 in the arrangement of his miscellaneous w^ork, 
 places his chapter De SpectacuUs, immediately 
 after that, De militaribus instiintis ; and gives 
 this reason : ** Proximus militaribus institutis, 
 ad urbana castra^ id est, Theatra, gradus faciendus 
 est : quoniam haec quoque, sc^penumeroy anwtosas 
 acics imtruxerunt ; excogitataque cult ft s Deorum, 
 et hominum delectationis, causa, non sine aliquo 
 pacis rubore, voluptatem et religionem civili 
 s a:<gv IS E,scenicoj^umporte7itorum gratia, macu- 
 lilrunt." [Lib. ii. 4.] — These scenicapor tenia wer« 
 the Pantomimes. 
 
 Aristotle says here, Six rm G-^ni^xTi^oixtvuv 
 ^u^fAuv. It seems, at first view, that the inverse of 
 this expression would have been more accurate — - 
 Stx ruy ^v^i^il^ofAEvccy (r)(riiJi.xTuv — by rhythmic 
 gestures. And, if he had been here considering 
 the imitation of Dance, separately, and in itself, 
 he probably would have expressed himself in that 
 way. But dancing is here transiently mentioned,, 
 merely to exemplify what he had been saying, of 
 the combined, or separate, use of rhytJim, words^ 
 and melodjj ; and to shew, in w hat manner, not 
 only melody and rhythm mig;ht be separated from 
 words, as in music \ but rhythm, also, might be 
 
 separated 
 
 ^ See Tacit, and Sueton. passim, 
 Q 2 
 
w 
 
 228 NOTES. 
 
 separated from melody, and used alone ^ Any 
 mode of expression, therefore, which would have 
 represented gestures {(r'xv^f/.oLia) as the principal 
 means of the imitation, would not have suited his 
 purpose. It would, also, as Victories and others 
 have observed, have tended to confound the meatis 
 of imitation in the poetic and musical arts, which 
 he is here considering, with those means of a 
 different khid, which he had just enumerated, as 
 employed in arts t)f more obvious and strict 
 imitation, and among whiclir 2XHMATA were 
 mentioned. 
 
 It has been also ^objected, that Aristotle is, 
 here, professedly instancing U txh EIPHMENAI2 
 Tf^v^K — in the arts " above-mentioned " — and 
 yet introduces Dancing, which had not been 
 mentioned : a difficulty easily overcome, if we 
 consider, that Dancing was among the musical 
 arts ; closely connected with Poetry, and, above 
 all, with Tragedy, 
 
 ^ For such an instance, he could have recourse only to 
 Dance ; and so Arist, Quitttil.^pvGn^ h KAe' ATTON 
 fjiiv [votnai] km ^lAHX OPXHIEHS. The whole pas- 
 sage, where he is considering melody, rhythm, and words, 
 in their separate use, and in their various combinations, 
 is curious, and may serve to illustrate this part of Aristotle's 
 treatise. — See/). 3i> 32. Ed,Mdb, 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 229 
 
 NOTE 5. 
 
 P. 102. The epopoeia imitates by words 
 
 ALONE, OR BY VERSE, &C. 
 
 In my translation of this perplexing passage, 
 as far as the words — Troiono rnu fjL^ixrKnv — in- 
 clusively, I have given that sense which is now 
 generally adopted, and in which almost all the 
 commentators are agreed *. And it has certainly 
 this advantage, that it seems to be the only con- 
 sistent and intelligible version that can be given 
 of the whole passage, as it fwzv stands. But it 
 appears to me, after the closest attention I have 
 been able to give it, that, in the present condition 
 of the text, no man can reasonably be confident 
 of conveying the true meaning of Aristotle in any 
 translation or explanation that he can give. 
 
 The passage sets out with an expression most 
 unfortunately ambiguous, and demonstrated to be 
 so, by the very confidence w ith which the am- 
 biguity has been denied, by critics and com- 
 mentators of great learning and sagacity, in favour 
 of interpretations directly opposite to each otlier. 
 Some, by the expression, Xoyoig xl^iXoi^, have un- 
 derstood Aristotle to mean/?ro^e, and others, verse, 
 without music. — But this is far from beinsr all the 
 difficulty with which a translator has to strucjde 
 
 in 
 
 * Madias, Bcni, Piccolomini, Heinsius, Dacier, 
 Batteux. 
 
 Q3 
 
 i 
 
 ill 
 
230 NOTES. 
 
 in this passage. In the words— £40' m rm ytm 
 XPHMENH Twv [xtT^uy Tuyp^anttra MbXPI TOT 
 NTN — there is, surely, something defective. All 
 render this, — ** or, makhig use of some one hind 
 ** of metre, as it has done to this day^'' And 
 this, indeed, seems the only sense that can be 
 given to the words as they stand. But it appears 
 to me, that the original cannot, by any fair and 
 warranted elliptical construction, be made to 
 say this. Heinsius alone gives the fair and 
 literal version ; " vel uno tantum genere utatur 
 " usque ad tempus nostrum" — in plain English — 
 " whether mixing difterent metres together, or 
 *' using some one kind of metre to this day'^T 
 I am perfectly aware of the elliptical genius of 
 the Greek language in geneml, and of Aristotle's 
 style, in particular; yet to my ears, I confess, 
 this English, nonsensical as it is, does not sound 
 more siranije than the Greek from which it is 
 taken. Some word, or words, must, I should 
 suppose, have been omitted bet\veen TU7;(;«>K<r«, 
 
 Agam : 
 
 ^ ** Aut uno aliquo metrorum genere usa sit, quod a 
 •* prhcis temporibus ad nostrum usque factitatum «/.*' 
 Goulston. — " Ou qu'elle sc contente d'unc seule espece, 
 «* comme ellc Va fait jusq' a present." Dacier. — And so 
 Piccolomini, ** Per quello che si vede fare sino ai tempi 
 M d'oggi." 
 
 ^ It is so rendered, I find, by the English translator of 
 1775 ; ** either intermixing the various metres, or, ming 
 «* one particular iort to this very dajV 
 
 NOTES. 231 
 
 Again : — ihv yot^ iy ^x^^f^^^ ONOMA2AI 
 KOINON T«f Sw^^ok^ xoti Stvoc^^H iJi.ifji.Hg, &C. — 
 
 I submit it to those who are versed in the Greek 
 language, whether it seems probable, that, if 
 Aristotle had meant to express the sense usually 
 given to the words, (i. e. " for we should other- 
 " wise have no common name to give ^o,"&c.) he 
 would have expressed it in that Greek? I can 
 only say that I know of no similar example. 
 But farther : the words are conditional — ^Siv yx^ 
 ' AN «;^ot/Aik — and yet the condition is by no means 
 clearly pointed out. The sense may be, and has 
 been, variously supplied. It seems not impro- 
 bable, that there is some omission between the 
 words, vMv, and ihy, — I am not able entirely to 
 repel a suspicion — for I give it as nothing more — 
 
 that the words, /Afxf* '^^ "^"j ^^y b^lo^^g to this 
 sentence, and the whole may originally have stood 
 
 thus : — UTi iJi,iyyvcoc [Ji.sr aAAijXwk, fiO' lv» rivi ytvH 
 yj^(ul*.iyn TWk iJt.tr ^uv rvy^Kvairoc, Mi;^^* TAP ra vvv 
 
 aVfy EXOMEN, &c. i. e. " For we have hitherto no 
 " common appellation V' &c. — So much, as to 
 the condition of the text in this passage. 
 
 The interpretation, which I have followed, has 
 been very ably defended by several of the com- 
 mentators, whose arguments I need not repeat ; 
 by none, I think, so powerfully as by Paolo Beni^: 
 
 but 
 
 ^ I have only transposed ya^, and omitted av, for which 
 omission there is MS. authority. 
 • Comment, in jfriitotelis Poeticam^ Partic, 6* 
 
 Q4 
 
232 NOTES. 
 
 but it requires considerable patience to follow him 
 
 through the controversial zigzag of his captious 
 
 and fatiiiiiintj lomc. 
 
 The slront];est support furnislied by Aristotle 
 
 himself to this extension of the term Epopceia 
 
 to all imitation, fiction, invention, &;c. by xvords 
 
 onlyy uithout music, zvhether in verse or prose, is, 
 
 I think, to be found in Sect, 6, Part I. [Original, 
 
 cap. ix.] For, if a histoiy put into verse would, as 
 
 he there asserts, be still a sort of history, we may 
 
 infer, tliat an Epic Poem reduced to prose would, 
 
 in his idea, have been still a sort, at least, of 
 
 Poem. — -What lie savs in the conclusion of that 
 
 section — \\vdi the Poet should be the IIoiijTn?, or 
 
 JMaker, rather of his fable, than of his verse, has 
 
 the same aspect. — The same idea is also favoured 
 
 by tlie extent which he has actually given to the 
 
 term Epopa^ia, in Sect. 3, Part I. [Original, cap, ii.] 
 
 where it is expressly applied, not only to the 
 
 serious Poetry of Homer, but to Poems of a 
 
 comic, and even burlesque, character. An Epic 
 
 Poem w ithout elevation is, nearly, as repugnant 
 
 to modern ideas as a Foe?n without verse. It 
 
 would not appear much more strange to give the 
 
 title of Epic Poem to Tom Jones, than, to 
 
 Iludibras; to apply it to the Tckmatjuei would, 
 
 undoubtedly, appear much less strange ^ 
 
 It 
 
 ' Itaque video visum esse nonriullis, Platonis & 
 
 Demotriti locutionem, €tii abut a versuy tamen, quod 
 
 ^ incitatius 
 
 NOTES. 223 
 
 It may be worth remarking, farther, that there 
 is one circumstance, which, I think, would evi- 
 dently tend to render this doctrine of Aristotle— 
 if it was his doctrine — less extraordinary to the 
 antients, than it appears to us ; and that is, that 
 the difference between metre, and well-measured 
 prose, though, no doubt, sufficient to make them 
 readily distinguished by the ear, seems to have 
 been less than it is with us. To what a decree 
 of refinement they carried their rules for the 
 application of the various poetical feet to their 
 prose compositions, and with w hat fastidious deli- 
 cacy of ear tliey discriminated one combination 
 of syllables from another, is well known from 
 the writings of Cicero, Quintilian, Dion. Halicar- 
 nassensis, &c. — It would be thought a strange 
 expression, were a modern writer to say, com- 
 paring the Orator and the Poet, that the latter 
 was " rather more confined by numbers :" *' nu- 
 
 ** meris adstrictiorpf/w/o*." 
 But, 
 
 incitatius feratur, et clarissimis verborum luminibus 
 utSLtur, potias FoEM A putantlttm qud.m comicorum Poeta- 
 rum, apud quos, nisi quod versiculi sunt, nihil est aliud 
 quotidian! dissimile sermonis. Cic, Oral, cap, xx. 
 
 * Cic, de Orat,\.i6. — So, again, Or. ad Brutum, 
 cap.lxvi. speaking of prose compared with verse, he says, 
 ** at liberior aliquanto oratio." — To the same purpose 
 ibid, cap, xx. Nam etiam Poetae quaestionem attulerunt, 
 quidnam essei illiid quo ipsi difFerrent ab oratoribus. 
 Numero maxime vidcbantur atitea, et vcrsu ; nunc apud 
 oratores jam ipse numerus incrcbuit^ 
 
 • 
 
 
234 NOTES. 
 
 But, after all, the chief point of difficulty appears 
 to me to lie, not in Aristotle's asserting, that 
 Poetry^ in his idea of tlie word, might subsist 
 without verse, but in his giving the name of 
 Epopceia to such compositions as the Mimes of 
 Sophron, and the Dialogues of Plato. But of 
 this, in the next note. 
 
 In my translation of the words, Xoyoi? ^iXoiq^ 
 I have ventured to depart from the common in- 
 terpretation ; but without any material change in 
 the sense. They are generally understood to 
 mean prose ; and Dacier asserts positively, that, 
 ** those two words are 7?ever joined by Aristotle 
 " or Plato in any other sense**." If he meant, 
 that, wherever i^iA0» is joined to Xoy©^, it is always 
 used to exclude metre only, he is certainly mis- 
 taken. He had, himself, but just before, quoted 
 a passage of Plato, in which the expression, 
 Xpyo» i}/iAo», appears clearly to meap, words without 
 melody. It is in his second book De Legibiis, 
 where, complaining, in his usual strain, of the 
 separation of Poetry and Music, he says of the 
 Poets, that they employ fv^iMov fxtv xai fniAocroc^ 
 
 ^ C/i. u Note 22. 
 
 * I have ventured to alter the word (rxyniarzct to pTDixara ; 
 a correction, which, I think, the learned reader will see 
 to be obviously necessary, from the purport and ex- 
 pression of the whole passage. The opposition is clear— 
 
 fv^iiov (jLiv Mai PHMATA jus^y^ ^•'f'J /w^^ I* AT uea 
 
 fydfjuti avBu PHMAXaN. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 23^ 
 
 M1X8? x^^^^y AOrOTS ^lAOrS £12 METPA 
 TI0ENTE2* /tx£Xof ^* ocv xat puG/xs; dyiu pYiiAocTocv^ 
 xJ/iAij xiOa^tO'fi rt xat auAijcct w^oirx^UfASvoi^, The 
 
 words, Xoyai rl/^X8!; il; fAiT^oc T*0fkT£?, Dacicr trans- 
 lates, very strangely, " mettant de la simple prose 
 " en vers'^ But what has turning prose into 
 verse to do with Plato's complaint ? — ^^Xoi, here, 
 applied to Xoyoi^ answers evidently to jtAfX«? pc^f*f, 
 and excludes melody ; just as, in \J/iX»j xi^a^to-t* 
 x«t auA>j(r£», the same adjective answers to a»fu 
 p/xarwy, and excludes W'or</,s^ And this appears 
 to me to be the obvious sense of ^i\o^q in the 
 passage of Aristotle before us. By Xoyon; ^iXoiq^ 
 I understand — not, words without jnetre, i.e. 
 Prose — but, words without music. It is, surely, 
 most natural, and most to Aristotle's purpose, to 
 apply the privative force of \)/»a0», here, to the two 
 means of imitation, melody and rhythm ; which 
 are excluded in the Epopoeia, as words are, in the 
 preceding instance of the flute and the lyre, and 
 both M'ords and music, in that of dance. And 
 
 thus 
 
 ^ Ed, Serr, vol, ii. p. 669. 
 
 * I find this very passage mentioned by Casaubon, 
 De Satyrica, &c. p. 346, with the same explanation of 
 ^078; i|^txv(. — This is not the only instance in Plato that 
 contradicts the assertion of Dacier. In a passage of his 
 Symposium, cited by Victorius, [Ed. Serr. p. 215.] the 
 words — avtu o^avm, ^iXoti Xoyoi; — arc, I think, rightly 
 rendered by Serranus, " Siae ulUs i»5trumemis, assd 
 iantum simplici^m voce,'* 
 
236 NOTES. 
 
 thus he has actually used the word, in the com- 
 pound vJytXojtAfT^ia, in the next chapter. The only 
 difference is, that there he has joined the word 
 iJ/iA©* to metre ; here, to xvords in general. But 
 in both places, the meaning is probably tlie same — 
 i e. " without melodi/ and rhijthmy 
 
 The word Xoy^ is, plainly, used by Aristotle, 
 in his first enumeration of the means of imitation, 
 [ — \y "Pu^fJi^to Kxi Aoyw xai *A^[Moyioi,. cap. i.] in the 
 general sense, of language, discourse, or words, 
 whether with, or without metre ; as we say, " the 
 " zivrds of a song," &c. as opposed to the 
 music"; and that, whether those words are verse, 
 as in general they are, or prose, as in the songs 
 of the Messiah, and in the anthems of our 
 church. And, that the word Xoyo^ was pur- 
 posely used by Aristotle in this latitude, is ren- 
 dered highly probable by his varying the expres- 
 sion, where he speaks of Tragedy, Comedy, 
 Dithyrambics, and Nomes, to which metre was 
 essential, and substituting there, the word Mit^w, 
 for Aoyu. It was natural, then, that he should 
 say, 
 
 ^ So Virgil ; 
 " - - - numeros memini, si VERBA tenerem." 
 
 EcL ix. 
 Nothing is more common than this use of ^070©- in 
 
 Aristotle and Plato. Thus the latter, De Rep. //^. iii.— 
 TO |Lt£X®- tK r^icov en auyxetfisyoV) AOFOT ts xcu a^fjutvia; 
 MM puQfxa — which agrees* exactly with Aristotle's account 
 of the means of imitation. 
 
 ■ fu9fMt, mi f^tMiy KM M£T?n<. Cap. i. 
 
 NOTES. 237 
 
 say, when he came to speak of the Epic imitation, 
 as distinguished from those he had before men- 
 tioned, that it imitates bi/ zvords alone — i. e. without 
 melody and rhythm, or, as we should say, without 
 music. But he adds — u' MtT^oiq — " or "verse."' 
 And why? — Probably, because he thought his 
 expression would be neitlier clear, nor exact, 
 , without it : not clear, because the most usual 
 meaning of Xoyoi iJ/iXo* being prose, it might have 
 been so taken here, and he might have appeared 
 to say, at least, though no one could reasonably 
 suppose he meant it, that the Epic imitates by 
 prose only — [xoitcu roi^ Xoyoig iJ/iAoij : — not e.vact, 
 because, metre being, as he himself expressly 
 says, a species, or part, of rhythm", words, put 
 into metre, were not, strictly speaking, \J/tAoi, that 
 is, x^V^ Afjutoviaj xat PT0Mor. And this is exactly 
 conformable to the expression of Plato in the 
 passage above quoted, where he considers verse, 
 even unaccompanied by music, as still consisting 
 of rhythm and words, [PXeMON ^».iy xa» pu/Aar* 
 MfXaj p^w^K ;] — plainly regarding metre as a 
 species, or form, of rhythm. 
 
 I understand, therefore, the meaning of Aristotle, 
 
 in this expression — roij Xay^n; ^iXaifi^ t! to»j /unr^oif, 
 
 to amount to this ; — "by words, without the 
 '* other means of melody and rhythm, or at most, 
 " with so much of rhythm only, as is implied in 
 
 « '' the 
 
 • ra yaf y^iT^a, ori MOPIA ruvfuQfxuv in, ^an^ov. Cap.W. 
 
23S NOTES. 
 
 " the idea of metre: without rhythm, in its 
 ' musical sense of strict time '." This sense of 
 the words agrees perfectly with what follows— 
 ihv ya^ dv i)(^oi[Mt¥y &c. i. e. '* For otherwise— 
 " if we do not allow the Epopoeia to imitate bi/ 
 " wordSy in the general sense, whether prose or 
 " verse — we shall have no common name for 
 •' Epic imitations in prose; and, if we do not 
 " allow it to imitate in either one or more species 
 of metre, we shall have no common name for 
 the same kind of imitation in Elegiac, or otheF 
 
 it 
 
 ti 
 
 ** verse." 
 
 The great advantage of this sense of Xoyoi^ 
 tJ/Aoif is, that, while it leaves in full force that 
 explanation of the whole passage, which I have 
 followed, it removes, at the same time, or at least 
 considerably weakens, what has always struck me 
 as one of the strongest objections to it. Nothing 
 appears to me more improbable, than, that 
 Aristotle, advancing a doctrine so new, and so 
 repugnant to the prevailing ideas of his own times, 
 as, that a species of Poetry might subsist without 
 verse, should chuse to present this novelty in the 
 most offensive way, by beginning at once, and 
 without any management, with the mention of 
 prose : that he should say — " The Epic Poem 
 " injitates by prose alone, or, by va^se,'' If by 
 },oyo^g \J/iAo»f he had meant prose, as Dacier and 
 
 • others 
 
 9 See the quotation from Mr. Harris, p. 108-9. 
 
 (( 
 
 « 
 
 NOTES. 239 
 
 others contend, would he not naturally — one 
 might say, unavoidably — have reserved those 
 words for the last in the period ? Would not the 
 order, in short, have been this ? — " by verse alone; 
 and that either of a single kind, or mixed — or 
 even by prose,'' As I have rendered the words, 
 prose is not moitioned at all, but implied only in 
 the general expression of, words ; as it is, equally, 
 in his first enumeration of the means of imita- 
 
 tlOU — fv poOjUu: xat AOm* x*» d^fAovix, At the 
 
 worst, the idea of prose is not, as in the othe^' 
 version, presented before that of verse. 
 
 With respect to what I have said of the novelty 
 of the philosopher's doctrine, and its remoteness 
 from the com.mon ideas of tlie antients concerning 
 the importance of metre to Poetry, I may refer 
 even to his own way of speaking, in general, upon 
 that subject. In his Rhetoric, for example, he 
 
 says — ^v^fMov hi Ixj^^v ray Xoyov^ Msr^ou Ji, ^u* 
 noiHMA TAP E2TAI.— " In prose-composition 
 *' there should be rhythm, but not metre— for 
 " then it will be a Poem**." The reader may 
 also be not displeased to see what Isocrates 
 thought of the importance .«f verse, in a passage, 
 which I have given in note 2^9, respecting the 
 privileges and advantages of Poetry. — Plato goes 
 so far, as to compare Poetry, when reduced to 
 prose, to a face, which, having no solid beauty of 
 
 • • form 
 
 * Rhet, Hbt iii, cap^ viii, p. 591. Ed, DuvaU 
 
240 NOTES. 
 
 form and symmetry, has lost its only charm, when 
 the bloom of youth, and dehcacy of complexion, 
 have deserted it'. But the zeal of Plato for 
 depreciating Poetry is well known. He would, 
 probably, have approved the indignation of one 
 of the Fathers, who called it " the Devil's wine." 
 It must be confessed, how^ever, that he has poured 
 a great deal of this wine into his own writings ; 
 and were they to be reduced to plain prose, and 
 stripped of that dy^oi; — that bloom and colouring 
 of poetic diction, and poetic fancy, by which they 
 are so distinguished, I should be in some pain for 
 the appearance they would make. 
 
 But, to return : — After all that is to be said in 
 favour of that interpretation, which, on the whole, 
 I have thought it best to follow, I must end this 
 note, as I began it, by declaring my conviction 
 of the imperfect condition of the original, and 
 confessing my doubt, whether the true meaning 
 
 of 
 
 » ... lojjtt [sc. Ttf Twv noiriTwv, yufA.vci)9£vra yt tuv mi 
 fAUffiHTii XPHMATUN, alna i(p auruv ^^yo^tfva,] roi^ twv 
 *XlPAinN 'K^cxTUTToig, KAAHN AE MH, ota yivtrau Ihiv, 
 erav aura to AN0O2 's^o'^Tpri.-^Rep.x. p.6oi. Ed, Serrani. 
 
 This is quoted by Aristode, Rhet. iii. cap,'i\. p. 588. 
 
 Duval,— 'In Dr. Beattie's Essay on Poetry, &c. Part II. 
 fh, ii. it is, by mistake, attributed to Demosthenes. Nor 
 is the meaning of the passage there fully given. Plato 
 does not content himself with saying, that " versification 
 " is to Poetry, what bloom is to the human countenance." 
 He says, that versification is to Poetry, what bloom li 
 to a face, t^at /las no beauty but bloom* 
 
 NOTES. 241 
 
 of Aristotle, in this passage, has yet been, or ever 
 will be, discovered. 
 
 NOTE 6. 
 
 P. 103. The Mimes of Sophron and 
 
 XeNARCHUS, and the SOCRATIC DIALOGUES. 
 
 Had Aristotle proposed only to extend the 
 term 'EvQwonx to all imitations of the narrative 
 kind, whether in verse or prose, whether serious 
 or comic, this, to a reader who should enter 
 thoroughly into his ideas of Poetry, would not, 
 perhaps, appear extraordinary. It would be 
 only classing the different forms of Poetry, as one 
 might expect him to class them, according to 
 what he himself conceived to be the chief and 
 most characteristic difference of their imitations. 
 But here, we find the name applied to composi- 
 tions of a character strikingly different — to Mimes, 
 and Dialogues ; for it is indeed, as Dacier says, 
 a very obvious question, and one which cannot 
 but have occurred to every reader — " les Dia- 
 " logues ne resemblent-ils pas plutot au Poeme 
 " Dramatique, qu' au Poenie Epique ?" — An 
 embarrassing question, and which, being at all 
 events to be answered, he answers immediately, 
 and roundly — " Non, sans doute." And why? — 
 Because, says he, ** the drama imitates by words 
 " and music, the Epic Poem, by words onlyj^ 
 But, to apply the expression of the philosopher 
 
 V L. I. ft ^ 
 
241 NOTE S. 
 
 to this critic — TrXfJa? £u, Xvti xaxwf*. This is 
 much the same thing as if one should deny, that 
 two men, of form and features strikingly similar, 
 resembled each other, merely because their coats 
 were of different colours ; or, to come still nearer 
 to the case, if one should assert that one of these 
 men bore a greater resemblance to a third, with 
 whom he chanced to agree in the single circum- 
 stance of not wearing a wig. Is it probable, that 
 Aristotle, in classing and denominating a. principal 
 species of Poetry, should be guided by such a 
 circumstance as the mere absence of music? 
 when even metre he regards as not essential, and 
 speaks of it as one of the i^vtriAocra, of Poetic 
 language**. He allows, indeed, that music is the 
 most pleasurable of the in^va-fAxrocj or seasoyiings^ 
 of Tragedy ' ; but, that he regarded it as less 
 essential than metre, is evident from the place 
 which he assigns it in his arrangement of the six 
 parts of Tragedy according to the order of their 
 importance ; for he there places it next before 
 the Oj/if, or DecoratioHy which he pronounces 
 to be, of all the parts, " the most foreign to the 
 ** Poet's art:" ixiroc oIkhov m^ 7roi»T<x»if**. — On 
 the other hand, the circumstance of Narration in 
 
 the 
 
 * Cap, xviii, 
 
 * — ^£y« 3£ 'HAT2MEN0N xoyov, tov exona puOfMv 
 MM apiMviav HOI METPON. Cap, vi, 
 
 * — fAVfiTOv T«v n3v(rfwrr«y. Ibid, 
 
 •» Ibid. % 
 
 NOTES. 243 
 
 the person of the Poet he every where seems to 
 make an essential mark of distinction between the 
 JEpic and the Dramatic Poem'': so that, in order 
 to avoid making him absoluteiv inconsistent with 
 himself, we must be obliged to suppose, uith the 
 commentators, that he uses the word 'Exorroua in 
 two senses ; here, in its general and etymological 
 sense, that of imitating, or making, by xcords\ 
 and every wherc else in the common and limited 
 sense of narrative imitation^. The first of these 
 must be considered as a mere proposal: we must 
 understand Aristotle to say no' more than this — 
 that some common term, to include qfl compositioiis 
 imitating by words only, was wanted, and that 
 the term Epopceia, was best ada[)ted to that pur- 
 pose. In the rest of his treatise he conforms to 
 the established ideas and language. — Tliis, how- 
 ever, is by no means satisfactory.^ It still remains, 
 I confess, no inconsiderable difficulty with me, to 
 conceive, that Aristotle should, by applying the 
 term ETroTroua to all iinitative xcriting, whether of 
 a narrative or dramatic form, without music, give 
 it an extension inconsistent, as it seems, w ith his 
 
 oxvn 
 
 * See Cap.v. — Gt^. xxiii. initio. So Cap,\x\v. iv Sg 
 Tn ETTOTToiux, 3ia TO AIHrHSIN iivai. &c. — and ibid. 
 r\ ^vt\yy\iMt,'x\xy\ /Mfji.n(ng, is equivalent to h ETTowomTiKv (ji.ifji,nJii,' 
 in Cap, xxvi. 
 
 ^ See the note of Heinsius. 
 
 * As in the passages just referred to, Note *. 
 
 R 2 
 
J44 NOTES. 
 
 (ywn principles, and confounding those distinctions, 
 which, in his oxvn view, were the most essential. 
 If he had meant so to apply the term in the 
 passage before us, lie would, surely, have been 
 more explicit, and, where, after this passage, he 
 Jint maitioned the Epopaia in the usual sense, 
 would have added some words of limitation and 
 distinction to prevent confusion. But this he has 
 not done. Tliough evidently speaking of thu 
 heroic and narrative Epic, he calls it only, 
 % ETTOTToVi*; as if no other application of the 
 word had been mentioned. 
 
 Of the Mimes of Sothron we can acquire 
 but a very imperfect idea, either from what is 
 said of them in antient authors, or from the 
 fragments that are preseivcd in Athenaeus, De- 
 metrius, and otliers. It has even been long dis- 
 puted among the learned, whether they were 
 prose or verse; and, at last, it seems to be 
 settled, that they were neither;* a kind of com- 
 promise comfortable enough to the disputants on 
 both sides ; for if the fragments are somethin<y 
 between verse and prose, they, who assert them 
 to be either, are somethinor between vwhi and 
 
 CD ^ 
 
 wrong. I shall not enter into this discussion ; 
 but refer tlie reader to the remarks of the 
 icarned Valckenaer on the argument of the 
 AJwvia^«(rai of Thcocritus ; where he will find 
 some curious and uncommon information upon 
 4 this 
 
 \ 
 
 NOTES. 245 
 
 this subject \ That these compositions, however, 
 were either a species of the drama, or, at least, 
 dialot»ues in tlie dramatic form, there seems to 
 be no doubt'. Dacier, indeed, asserts, that they 
 were, like the Epic Poem, ** uae imitdtlon com- 
 *' posee de narration et diction/' Eut he pro- 
 duces no proof of this, nor do I know of any. — 
 I must tarther observe, that, supposing what is 
 related, of the fondness of Plato for the Mimes of 
 Sophron, and of their having been his model in 
 the fxifxriTig TT^ojuTTuy of his o.vn dialogues '', to be 
 true, it may reasonably be inferred, that we 
 out^ht bv no means to confound them with the 
 Roman Mimes, or to a|)piy to them, as is too 
 often done, all that is said of the latter by 
 Diomedes, and other writers of that age. Such 
 licentious and obscene trash would not, surely, 
 have been foun 1 under the pillow of the moral 
 and reforming Plato; and that, oAoy l-m ynox^ 
 iStji, anl, as some assert, even in the hour of 
 death'. In saying this, howevtr, I do not forget, 
 
 that 
 
 ^ ThcQcriU Dtcem Eidyllia, Lug, Bat, 1773, ^^^» 
 particularly, p. 200. 
 
 * See Cusaubon, de Sat, Poes. cap. ili. p. 1 1 5, 1 16, and 
 the passage of Plutarch to which he re*"cvs, Sympos. Prob, 
 lib, vii. Prob vih. p. 1268. Ea. H. St. And, in his irea- 
 tise HoTi^a, ruv l^uuv k t. oA. p. 179^' 
 
 ^ See Valckcuaer*s Tneoc. p. 194. 
 
 ' Sophron, miiuorum quidcm scrlptor, sed quern 
 Plato adeo probavit, ut suppositos rapiti iibros ejus, cum 
 morerctur, hiibuisse tradatur. QuintiL i. 10, 
 
 K3 
 
246 NOTES. 
 
 that delicacy is not to be sought for even in the 
 strictest morality of antient times. For the best 
 idea that can now be formed of the manner of 
 this famous mimographer, we must have recourse, 
 I believe, to the fifteentli Idyl of Theocritus "", 
 which, as we are informed in the MS. argument 
 found by Ruhnkenius in the royal library at 
 Paris, is an imitation of a Mime of Sophron 
 upon a similar subject". A more exact piece of 
 natural delineation cannot be imagined. It is 
 not, indeed, la btlle nature ; it is tlie nature of 
 common and simple, or, as some aifect to call it, 
 of low, life ; but copied with so close and faithful 
 a pencil, that, to every reader accustomed, in any 
 de<^ree, to observe the manners of mankind in 
 general, and whose taste is not perverted by 
 affectation, or fettered by rule, the truth and 
 reality of the imitation will, I believe, amply 
 compensate for the want of dignity in the thing 
 imitated. 'To those who receive no pleasure from 
 this source, I would rather recommend the belle 
 nature of Pope's Pastorals, or the still jiner 
 nature of Fontenelles. — I would only observe 
 farther, that this imitation of Sophron is in 
 the strict dramatic form ; and that it contains 
 
 notliing 
 
 " The ^u^axuffiau, >j A^uvta^aam, The Syracusian 
 women, or, the women at the festival of Adonis. 
 
 " Tla^ETry^aa-e h TroiTDfjuxriov U tojv ^ra^a Ha^oovt kvjjkBvm TU 
 Mfjua. Fa/cken, Decern Eid, Theoc, p. 1 88. 
 
 ' NOTES. 147 
 
 nothing in the least degree indecent, or dis- 
 gusting. 
 
 6f the AOroi 2I1KPATIK0I, by which, un- 
 doubtedly, Aristotle meant chiefly, if not solely, 
 the Dialogues of Plato, I shall only observe, 
 that they have all, in a high degree, the dramatic 
 and imitative spirit, and that by far the greater 
 part of them are in the unmixed dramatic form**, 
 so as to admit of representation ; and it, accord- 
 ingly, appears from Plutarch, that those of the 
 lighter cast among them were sometimes per- 
 formed by boys, as an entertainment, at the 
 Symposia of the Romans in his time ^ 
 
 NOTE 7 
 
 P. 103. Connecting the Poetry, or 
 Making, with the metre. 
 
 — SyvaTTTovTff tw [abt^'J ro ttoihv, — ISot, " on 
 
 " applique au vers seul I'idee quon a de la 
 Pocsic,'' as M. Batteux renders it, but, as it is 
 translated by Piccolomini, with his usual exact- 
 ness — " congiugnendo il verbo, liainv, [Poieiny 
 " cio e forCy] con la (jualita del metro^' — I un- 
 derstand Aristotle's expression to mean, not the 
 
 connection 
 
 ** We have, I think, thirty-two dialogues of Plato, 
 taking those De Republican and De Lcgibus^ which are 
 now divided into books, as each one dialogue. Of these 
 thirty-two,, only six are in the narrative form. 
 
 ^ l^lutarchi Sympos. Prob. lib. vii. Prob. viii. 
 
 R4 
 
248 NOTES 
 
 connection of the general idea of Poetry with 
 that of Verse, though this indeed be implied; 
 but, the junction of the zvord, no^t^v, with the 
 name of some particular metre, in tlie com- 
 pound words, EAfyiiOTTotoi, Evo^7^o^o^^ and the Hke. 
 
 NOTE 8. 
 
 p. 103. Treatises of Medicine or na- 
 tural Philosophy in verse. 
 
 Two Poems of Empedocles — -that concerning 
 Nature, and his Expiations — contained together, 
 according to Diog. Laertius, Jive thousand hexa- 
 meters, and another, on the subject of Medicine, 
 six hundred. — tu fj^iv ^y m^i OTSEXIS aJrw x»» 
 o( KaGa^^oi, iiq Inn 'rlly^(^i Ttiyrocxiiryj^T^iocy Se 
 IATPIK02 Koyf^j u; i-rrri i^(xy,0(rix [End of the 
 
 Life of Eirpedocfes.] This, by the way, con- 
 firms the emendation of Heinsius — f-ja-ixov, for 
 fj.H(rixoy. Nothing, I believe, is known of any 
 anticnt Poem on the subject of Music. 
 
 The earliest philosophy was natural philo- 
 sophy, and the earliest vehicle of that philosophy 
 was verse. Orpheus, Ilesiod, Parmenides, Xeno- 
 phanes, Empedocles, and Thales, are all men- 
 tioned by Plutarch as poet-philosophers of this 
 kind. Pythagoras is said to have written a Poem 
 On the Universe, in hexameters*. This mea- 
 sure 
 
 • Ilffi TH *OMt, iv i'jT^.a-i, Diog. Lactt. VIII. 7. — And 
 see P/ut, Ilffi T8 fAti xfav sH^T^atj &c. p. 716, i/. StepL 
 
 NOTES. 249 
 
 sure was, at least, suited to the dignity of philo- 
 sophical speculation. We cannot say so much of 
 the verse chosen by Epicharmus for the vehicle 
 of a treatise Concerning sensible and intellectual 
 objects — Ilf^i r(av otiVOnTwy xat votjrwv — part of #hich 
 is quoted by Diog. Laertius in his life of Plato ^ 
 It was written in the Trochaic tetran)eter, a 
 very unphilosophical measure, if rightly charac- 
 terized by Aristotle, who gives it the epithets of 
 
 r^oxi^oy — o^'XTiTiy.oy — KOPA AKIKHTEPON ^ An 
 English reader would be surprised, on opening a 
 didactic and philosophical Poem, to find it 
 written in the measure of — " Jolly mortalSy fill 
 your glasses,'' &c. 
 
 NOTE 9. 
 
 P. 103. Homer and Empedocles have 
 
 NOTHING IN COMMON BUT THEIR METRE. 
 
 In his book De Poetis, Aristotle spoke some- 
 what differently. He there said, as cited by 
 
 Diog. 
 
 ^ 111.10. 
 
 * Rhet.m, 8. Poet, cap.xxiv. The word, /co^^aKiuurt^ov, 
 cannot be adequately translated. *' A jiggtsh measure^* 
 would be weak, to the force of the original. The 
 Ko^aJ is known to have been a kind of dance, so full 
 of buffoonery and indecency, that Theophrastus makes 
 it one of the marks of his Projllgate Man, that *' he will 
 ♦* even dance the Kof3a|, sober, and without a mask,*^'^ 
 Thcophrasti Charact* cap. vi, llt^i Attovoios* 
 
^50 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Diog. Laertius, '* that Empedocles resembled 
 " Homer in the beauty of his diction ; abound- 
 " ing in metaphors, and making a happy use of 
 " the other embellishments of Poetic languskge */* 
 It does not seem easy to make this perfectly con- 
 sistent with what he here asserts — that Empedo- 
 cles had nothing in common with Homer but his 
 metre. He meant ^ I suppose, no more, than that 
 Empedocles had nothing of the true Poetic cha- 
 racter of Homer, his invention, imitation^ &c. 
 But he certainly has said more. 
 
 NOTE 10. 
 
 P. 104. So, ALSO, THOUGH ANY ONE 
 SHOULD CHUSE TO CONVEY HIS IMITATION 
 IN EVERY KIND OF METRE, &C. 
 
 The conjecture of Heinsius, who contended, 
 that — UK rVti xa* TTOiijTnv Tr^oa-xyo^tvTiov — should be 
 read interrogatively, I have rejected, because the 
 sense it gives the passage appears to me to be 
 trifling. It makes Aristotle say — ** If Poets are 
 " to be denominated from their metre, what 
 " name is to be given to him, who writes a 
 " Poem in ail sorts of metre? You cannot call 
 
 " him 
 
 'OMHPIKOS EfjiTTE^oKXrii, xai h.iv(^ ^e^i rnv $PA2IN 
 ysyove, fxtrs^o^iK^B- te «v, xai roii a>^ii roig tts^i TTOinrucrtv 
 imrtvyfjtofft x^^^H-^^* Diog, Laert, lib. viii, 57. 
 
 <c 
 
 (( 
 
 ii 
 
 a 
 
 NOTES. 251 
 
 " him an ETroTroi®*, an la/^poTroj®*, &c. Is he, 
 ** therefore, not to be called a Poet at all, be- 
 ** cause you cannot call him the Poet, or Maker^ 
 " of this or that particular metre?" — But the 
 answer to this would surely be obvious : *' We 
 cannot, it is true, call him any one of these, 
 exclusively ; we call him all these ; he is the 
 " Poet of every metre, in which he composes ; 
 and, in our ideas, the more a Poet, in propor- 
 tion to the number of the different measures, 
 " of which he shews himself a master." — I must 
 also remark, that, in this way of understanding 
 the passage, the word, ofxoiui;, is not accounted 
 for, nor fairly rendered, I think, either in the 
 version of Heinsius, or in any of those that 
 follow him. * 
 
 I have, also, rejected the reading of Victorius 
 — 'OT TTomro mv fxifjina-iv ; because it appears to 
 me, that the phrase will not admit of the sense, 
 in which it is rendered, of 7iot imitating at all, — 
 It is observed by Victorius himself, that the 
 phrase, -Troiuo-Ga* mv [AifxrKriv, is never used by 
 Aristotle as equivalent to fA^fAsiffioa only, but 
 always where he is speaking of the 7neans, 
 or manner, by, or in, which, the imitation is 
 made. Thus, ch, i. — noiOTNTAI my fA^[At^v^y EN 
 PT0Mm xai A0rX2I xat APMONIAI. — Again— 
 AIA TPIMETPnN x. r. aX. IIOIOITO ttjv /ui/x»j(r«>. 
 And, at the end, EN *OI2 nOIOTNTAI rnv 
 ai/ATjo-ik — •" the different meajis, by which they 
 
 form 
 
152 NOTES. 
 
 form or execute their imitation.'' — Thus, too, 
 
 C/?. \\\v.—H yx^ r^f EN AAAX21 TINI METPX2I 
 iixynuacTiXT), |t>t»/xTj(r»j» flOIOlTO. — (7?. vi. f.N TOT- 
 TOiZ hi'. /utAo7roi'»a x»^ XiJ^n] IIOIOTNTAI my 
 fA,^[xtc^v. J50 il)id, with a participle— flPATTON- 
 T£2 nOIOTNTAI rni^ /A»nx»i<r4v— as in the passage 
 belore us aVavTa ra fAST^oc MIFNTXIN nOlOITO 
 T»i/ lA'fxnc-iy. — The construction and the scn^e are 
 the same, v\hcn t!ie same mode of cxprcsbion is 
 applied to other subjects; as, cap. iv. — rot; 
 fjLA^nffii^ nOIElTAI AIA MIMHIEaS — And, 
 Bhet. lib I cap. i. .sect, 3. AIA TXiN KOINXiN 
 nOIEI20AI raf 7rtr£»? xa» ns; Xoyaq — 1. C. ** tO 
 
 " ar^ue through the medium of common and 
 " popular truths.^^ — I do not know of any 
 instance, in which 7ro»£»(r9a4 my fjnfxr\<riy is used in 
 any other way, or put simply for /oii/x£KrSa». 
 I cannot, for example, conceive, that Aristotle, 
 instead of, to rs yx^ MIMEII0AI ffu/x^yTov toi? 
 ak9^«7rotf, (cap. iv.) would have written— to ti 
 ya^ nOIEISGAI MIMHSIN (tu/x^utov, ^C. It 
 appears to me, that, whether the phrase be used 
 positively, or negatively, seme imitation is equally 
 ifnj)lied ; and this sentence — «« t»? dn-xvTx la, 
 
 u£To» fAiyyvxy OT iroioiro THN fMtfA.n(riy — I should 
 
 by no means think it accurate to translate — ** If 
 " any one, mixing all sorts of metre, should not 
 " imitate;— but, (to construe literally for the 
 sake of clearness,) ** if any one should not ?mjke 
 " THE, (or, which is the same thing, HIS) 
 
 ** imitation 
 
 NOTES. J53 
 
 •* imitation by mixing all sorts of metre." This, 
 I confess, appears clearly to me to be the fair 
 English of that Greek; but as this certainly can- 
 not be the meaning of Aristotle here, I must 
 abandon the reading which gives it, and content 
 myself with following that explanation, which is 
 encumbered with the fewest diliiculties*. The 
 sense, in this way, does not materially difFcT from 
 that, which is given to the j)assage by those who 
 adopt the reading of Victorius. The word, ojtAotw?, 
 has thus its proper force. So has, «x HAH, KAI 
 gro*»iTuw ir^o(Ttt,yofi\)rioy. As if Aristotle had said — 
 Such a writer we might, certainly, on the first 
 glance, call, a versifier — a metre-maker — 
 iTTOTTotov, IxiyuoTroioy, 8cc. but we should not 
 immediately (HAH), merely on account of the 
 variety of his versi/icatioUy allow him also 
 
 the title of Poet — KAI Troinrriy Tr^ctrxyo^svricy.^* 
 
 I must, however, be again permitted to declare 
 my doubt, as to the integrity of the text. — I have 
 here given, as I have been obliged to do in many 
 other places, that sense, w hich appears to me the 
 best that can be dven to tb.e orimnal as it stands ; 
 not tliat, upon which 1 can with a,ny ccn/idcnce 
 rely, as the clear meaning of the author. 
 
 * According to the version of Goulsion — *' Similiter 
 ." vero etiam si quis omnia metrorum genera uno in 
 '* opere permiscens, imitationcm instituerit, (quemad- 
 " niodum Chajremon, &c.) non statini Poetae titulo, 
 ** ob catmcny sed ob imitationemf insigniendus/* See also 
 Castelvetro, p. 25, 26. 
 
 t( 
 
 n 
 
 <( 
 
 l( 
 
 << 
 
 »( 
 
^54 
 
 # 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 11. 
 
 P. 104. As Ch^remon has done in 
 HIS Centaur. 
 
 From some curious fragments of this Poet 
 preserved, or, rather, half-preserved, in Athenseus, 
 his genius appears to have been of a gay and 
 voluptuous cast, and to have delighted in minute 
 description of pleasurable objects. In the lines 
 quoted by Athenaeus from his Tragedy oi ^neus^ 
 which are a description of a group of beautiful 
 virgins sporting by moon-light, there is certainly 
 some fancy, and some elegance ; but, of that 
 kind, the effect of which is, perhaps, somewhat 
 counteracted by too much appearance of affec- 
 tation and research. And this corresponds with 
 the character given of this Poet by Aristotle, 
 in his Rhetoric [lib. iii. cap. xii.] that he was, 
 axpiPt)? wcTTi^ >^oyoy^x<p^; and of that class 
 of Poets, whom he calls aj/ayvwrtxoi ; that is, 
 whose productions, as we commonly express it, 
 read better than they act ; are more adapted to 
 the closet, than to the stage. The antient Poets, 
 
 ^: 
 
 both Greek and Roman, were often, I believe, 
 
 lEfdebted, for their descriptive ideas, to Paint- 
 ing, or Sculpture. This passage of Chaeremon 
 is certainly very picturesque, and was, pro- 
 bably, suggested by some painting on the same 
 
 subject. 
 
 Athenaeus 
 
 NOTES. 255 
 
 Athenaeus says of this Poet, that he was par- 
 ticularly fond of dwelling upon the description of 
 flowers — iTTiKXTaipo^^ Ivk ra. avOtj * ; and cites 
 some lines of that kind from his Tragedies. 
 
 In his Centaur, which Athenaeus calls 
 i^cifi.Q(, TToXvixiT^sv, we must understand, that even 
 the dialogue was in various metres; for in the 
 choral parts this would have been no inno- 
 vation. 
 
 note 12. 
 
 P. 105. PoLYGNOTUS — PaUSON — DiONYSIUS. 
 
 Polygnotus and Pauson are also mentioned 
 by Aristotle in his 8th book De Rep, cap. v. 
 where, speaking of Painting witli a view to 
 education, he says, that ** young men should 
 " not be permitted to contemplate the works of 
 ** Pauson, but those only of Polygnotus, and 
 " of other artists who excelled in mo?'al expres- 
 " sion*.'^ It seems probable, from this passage, 
 that the pictures of Pauson were not only of a 
 ludicrous, but also of a licentious cast To what 
 a degree the abuse of this art was carried in 
 Aristotle's time, appears from another passage, 
 
 [Rep. 
 — ■ — -- I III 
 
 * Athen. lib. xiii. p. 608. 
 
 • — Aei /u)? Ta nAT2n-N02 Oea^siv rit; veh;, a»a. ra 
 nOATFNIlTOT, * av zi T15 aM(^ rm y^a^im h tw» 
 &yai^fWTon(Huv iuv hQiK^.-^De Rep. viii. 5. 
 
256 NOTES. 
 
 [Rep. lib, vii. cap. xvii.] in which he says, the 
 maoistrale should suffer no '* Hcentious and inde- 
 " cent paintings or statues," such as would en- 
 danger the morals of youth : but the exception 
 that follows is curious ; — " Unless^'" he adds, 
 " in the tempks of some deities of that 
 " CHARACTER, uhosc legal and established wor- 
 " ship consists in ludicrous and wanton rites \" 
 
 While I am upon this subject, I cannot forbear 
 adding a singular passage of Euripides, where 
 liippolytus, vindicating himself, and asserting his 
 chastity, says, with a ndiveti that, I fear, would 
 hardly be received with decent gravity by a 
 modem audience; — 
 
 Ova olSa, nPAHIN THNAE, ttXviv Xoyuj kXvuv, 
 
 rPAOHI TE AETISXIN' sJJe ruvrocyocp tricoTreiv 
 
 njoflu/^®^ elp, nAPGENON YTXHN Ixc^v. 
 
 HippoL V. 1003. 
 
 I am a stranger to the couch of love ; 
 
 Nor know I of its rites more than the tale 
 
 May have informed me, or the Painters pencil 
 
 Presented to mine eye ; yet on such picture 
 
 Dwells not mine eye delighted, for my mind 
 
 Is as a virgin's pure. - - - 
 
 [Mr. Potter's Translation, v. 1060.] 
 
 The 
 
 nPASEXlN MIMHIIN- il fin Tra^a riai GEOIS TOiOT- 
 
 NOTES. 257 
 
 The Pauson mentioned by Aristotle was pro- 
 bably the same painter, whose poverty only is 
 recorded by Suidas', and of whose wit we have a 
 curious specimen in iElian *** 
 
 Of DiONYsius, too, very little is known. 
 That he excelled in natural representation and 
 exact resemblance — in exhibiting men, such as he 
 saw them, without ideal grace on the one hand, 
 or exaggerated deformity on the other — is known, 
 I believe, only from tliis passage of Aristotle. 
 Dacier says this account is confirmed by jElian ; 
 * but I think he is mistaken. It appears to me, 
 that the /u.fyf6^ of which jElian speaks, as the 
 only difference between the paintings of Poly- 
 gnotus and those of Dionysius, is literal, not 
 figurative, magnitude. He says only, that the 
 pictures of Dionysius, *' except, that they were 
 " on a small scale^ were exact imitations of 
 " Polygnotus, in the expression of passions and 
 ** manners^ the attitudes of the figures, the 
 ** lightness and transparency of the draperies, 
 " and every other circumstance'." It is not 
 
 easy 
 
 ^^^■^— ■■■■■ — ■—■■ ™ — ■ ■ ■» I » ■ —. _ ^i^—^p— i^^^— ■— ■ ■■ N i ■— ^i^^ 
 
 ^ llau(ruv^ TrraxoTE^Q", was proverbial. Sulfas. And 
 see ArhtQph, Plut, 602. Thesmoph. 958. Jcharn. 854. 
 
 ^ Lib. xiv. cap. xv. — And see Dacier's note on the 
 passage of Aristotle. 
 
 1012 t^ya*:iro ra a^a' to, h T» A/ow/ais, IlAHN TOT 
 
 MEFEQOTX, rnv tu Ylorvyvwxn fix'^ytv ifxifjutro tt; Tn» 
 
 VOL. I. S ax^i^gioff 
 
158 NOTES. 
 
 easy to see how Dionysius could copy so exactly, 
 tU ax^*(3£*av, the expression^ and the forms, ctv 
 attitudes^ of Polygnotus, without copying, at the 
 same time, his greatness of manner, and his im- 
 provement of that nature which he imitated ; for 
 these seem entirely to depend upon those two 
 circumstances, the expression of the countenance, 
 and the airs and attitudes of the figures ^ 
 
 It seems, therefore, doubtful, whether Aristotle 
 and iElian speak of the same person. Thei'e 
 -must, in all probability, have been more painters 
 than one, of that name; which was so com^ 
 mon, that the writers so called, alone, furnished 
 Meursius with matter for a whole book. — The 
 
 pictures 
 
 A£^TOTUTjfj, xai TO. ^iOiTTu, — jEltan. iv. 3. If the sense of 
 the whole passage left room for doubt as to the sense of 
 the word /Ltrysfi®-, it would, I think,. be sufficiently fixed 
 by what follows — iv TEAEI012. i. e. ^wj/fi i/^/ttro, as 
 rightly rendered by Perizonius ; in large figures, — at 
 large as life, &c. Dacier's " visoit a la perfection y"* is 
 nothing to the purpose. 
 
 ' " The painter has no other means of giving an 
 iJea of the dignity of the mind, but by that external 
 appearance which grandeur of thought does generally, 
 though not always, impress on the countenance \ and 
 by that correspondence of figure to sentiment and 
 situation, which all men wish, but cannot command." 
 •—Sir Jos. Reynolds^ Disc, on Painting, p. 1 1 x. 
 
 NOTES. 259 
 
 pictures of Dionysius the Colophonian are men- 
 tioned by Plutarch* as being painted with con- 
 sid^aole strength of pencil, [ — \<rx^v I^outx xai 
 rtvov,] but in a manner which appeared forced and 
 laboured, [£)cj3fp*a(rjtAEvoi/,] and which he opposes 
 to the freedom and facility of Nicomachus, who 
 seems to have been the Fd Presto of the antient 
 painters \ Tiiis fault, so likely to be that of the 
 artist w!te aims at an exact and scrupulous re- 
 semblance of the nature that is before his eyes, 
 may, perhaps, afford some presumption, that 
 Plutarch and Aristotle speak of the same painter. 
 What Aristotle says of these three styles of 
 picturesque imitaton, is easily applied to modern 
 times. The productions, indeed, of these antient 
 artists, were perishable and of short duration ; — 
 *' At gemis immortale manet:" these specific 
 characters have subsisted, and probably will 
 subsist, in every period of the art. For the name 
 of Polygnotus, it is obvious enough to substi- 
 tute that of Raphael, or other masters of the 
 higher Italian schools. ** When a man," says 
 Mr. Richardson, with that simplicity of enthusi- 
 asm, which gives so amusing a singularity to his 
 
 writings, 
 
 * Life of Timolcon — vol. i. p. 46 !• Hen. Steph, 
 
 ^ Luca Giordano was called, Luca Fa Presto, Pliny 
 says of Nicomachus — « Nee fuit alius in ea arie 
 'velociorr — Lib, xxxv. cap, x. 
 
 S 2 
 
i6o NOTES. 
 
 writings * — " When a man enters into that awful 
 " gallery at Hampton-court'', he finds himself 
 ^* amongst a sort of people superior to xvhat he 
 *y has ever seen, and very probably to what tliose 
 " really were ^" This is exactly the j3iATiov«f i 
 xa6' 11/Aaff of Aristotle. *' Michael Angelo," says 
 the same author, *' no where saw such living 
 " figures as he cut in marble." — The Flemish 
 and Dutch schools will supply plenty of substi- 
 tutes for the Dioni/sii of antient painting — those, 
 who, like Protogenes, *' in picturi verum esse, 
 " non verisimile, volunt".'* Rembrandt must 
 occur to every body. Even Rubens " took his 
 " figures too mnohfrom the people before him.^ 
 [Sir Jos, Reynolds'' s Disc, p. 133.] 
 
 As for the Panso?JSy tlie buffoons of the art, 
 they are to be seen in the windows of every 
 print-shop. We must not, however, confound 
 with these " Tom Browns of the mob," as Mr. 
 
 Walpole 
 
 * See Mr. Walpole*s just apology for the singularities 
 of Richardson's style, and just censure of those, who 
 jaw nothing, in that sensible and original writer, but an 
 object of derision. — Anecdotes of Paintings 
 
 ^ Where the Cartoons then were. 
 
 * Theory of Paintings p. 96. Ed. l^J^' 
 
 " Plin. lib. XXXV. <af. x. See his account of the 
 laboriousness of that painter. — See also jElian. Far. 
 Hist, lib. xii. cap, xVu and Plui, in Demet. p. 1646 
 Ed, H. S. 
 
 NOTES. a6i 
 
 Walpole calls them", the moral humour of 
 Hogarth, or the sportive, but harmless, exagge- 
 rations of Mr. Bunbury. Hogarth, - indeed, in 
 general, and in his greatest works, seems rather 
 to belong to the highest class of the exact imi- 
 tators of vulgar nature — rm <>ATAf2N. His 
 Country-dance, however, may be mentioned as 
 an example, and an admirable one, of exagge- 
 rated comic imitation, in which men are made, 
 in some degree at least,." worse than they are" — 
 XEIPOTS fixajf. — And if any man can look at 
 this print, or at the Family-piece, the Coffee-house 
 Patriots, or the Long Story, of Mr. Bunbury, 
 without feeling a high degree of that pleasure 
 which arises from the perception of strong 
 humour, he must, I think, be still more un- 
 provided with a sense of the ridiculous, than 
 even that Crassus, who is recorded to have 
 laughed once^ though once only, in his life**. 
 
 NOTE 13. 
 P. 105. With the music of the flute 
 
 AND OF THE LYBE. - - - . 
 
 Thus Plato, in the very language of Aristotle, 
 fxifji.nfji.XTa, BEATIONaN xai XEIPONX2N ANOPa- 
 
 nxiN. [De Ixg. vii. p. 798. D.] A modern 
 * reader, 
 
 " Artec, of Painting y vol, iv. p, 1 49. 
 f Gc, dc Fin, v. 30. 
 
 S3 
 
xSi N; O T E S. 
 
 reader, that is, a person who reads an antient 
 author with modern ideas, might be inclined to 
 ask, how men are to be represented as better, or. 
 w orse, than they are, or how, indeed, represented 
 at all, in a harpsichord lesson, or a solo for a 
 German flute ? But the same reader, supposing 
 him in any degree conversant with music, would, 
 surely be at no loss to conceive, that it admits of 
 the difference of serious and comic expression; 
 and admits of it in various degrees, from the. 
 highest elevation and dignity of style, down ta 
 the coarse and vulgar jollity of the gavot, or the. 
 hornpipe. Now the meaning of Aristotle, put 
 into modem musical language, amounts, 1 appre- 
 hend, to no more than that. Suppose, then, the 
 music, in these ditferent styles, td be accompanied 
 by words, relating the actions, or imitating the 
 speech, of low, or elevated characters ; we might 
 say, that the music was expressive of such 
 actions, or characters ; the antk^its would have 
 said, that it imitated them. On the contrary, 
 suppose this music merely instrumental, we 
 should, in general, only say, that it was grand, 
 and sublime, or comic, mean, vulgar, &c. But 
 the antients, from the close, and almost insepa- 
 rable connection of their Music w ith Poetry, and 
 particularly with the most imitative sort of Poetry, 
 the Dramatic P; and partly, also, from the nature 
 
 ^ of 
 
 F Diss.il. p. 75, &c. 
 
 N» O T E S. {163 
 
 of their Music itself**, would, in thi3 case like- 
 wise, have retained much the same language, and 
 would have considered this Music as imitative, 
 of tjie manners and passions of exalted, or 
 vulgar characters, or even as representing those 
 characters themselves. — But the different ideas, 
 or rather, the different language, of the antients^ 
 and the moderns on this subject, I have con- 
 sidered more fully, and endeavoured to account 
 for, in the Second Dissertation, 
 
 NOTE 14. 
 P. 105. Cleophon, as they are.— -r 
 
 It may be worth while to remark, that the 
 character Aristotle gives of the diction of Cleo- 
 phon* — that it was of the common and familiar 
 kind, without Poetic elevation — corresponds with 
 the account here given of the general object of 
 his Poetry, the exact delineation of. common 
 nature and common life. He who means to 
 represent meii as they are^ will also, of course, 
 represent their language nearly as it is. 
 
 The only Poet of this name, of whom, I 
 believe, any account is given, is recorded as a 
 Tragic Poet**: but Aristotle undoubtedly alludes 
 
 here 
 
 ^ Diss. II. p. 76. 
 
 » Part ll. Sect. 26. Of the Orig. cap. xxii. 
 *> Suii/as V. Cleophon. He gives the names of some- 
 of his Tragedies. 
 
 S4"^ 
 
a64 - NOTES. 
 
 here to a Poem of the narrative kind. In another 
 part, of his works he Mentions a Poem of Cleo- 
 phon, called Mandrabulus'. From the pro- 
 verbial expression — iV* Mak<r^a|3«Xjf x^fn to 
 jr^otyiAot (" worse and worse, like the affairs of 
 Mandrabulus" — ) in Lucian**, and the account 
 of its origin in Suidas, and Ilesychius^ it seems 
 very improbable that the Poem was a Tragedy. 
 We may rather conclude it to have been of a 
 comic cast ; and it seems no unreasonable con- 
 jecture, to suppose, that it might be of the 
 narrative kind ; modelled, perhaps, in some re- 
 spects, upon the Margites of Homer. At 
 least, the two heroes seem to have been of 
 kindred characters. 
 
 KOTE 15. 
 
 P. 105. HeGEMON INVENTOR OF 
 
 PARODIES. . . 
 
 See Athenffius, p. 698, 690, and 406, 407. 
 And P'abric. Bibiioth. 6>. lib.ii. cap. vii. — Tbf5 
 Athenians^ were delighted wiili this sort of fun— - 
 of all expedients to raise a laugh, the cheapest, 
 and, at the same time, the most infallible, 
 IIoMER was the great and inexhaustible resource 
 
 of 
 
 « De Hoph. Blench, cap. xv. v here we should, I sup- 
 pptc, for M^3jfoi3H>«, read, Ma»Jf A^¥?^. 
 * De Ma cede conduct > 478. Ed, BciudicU 
 
 NOTES. ' tts 
 
 of these Parodists. The best and most consi- 
 derable specimen remaining, of this kind of Poem, 
 seems to be the Homeric description of an Attic 
 supper by Matron^ a great Parodist, and a great 
 eater, in Alhenaeus, lib.iv. cap. v. Isaac Casaubon 
 calls it, " Carmen ingeniosum, et leporis ac ve- 
 ** nustatis plenissimum." — The first three lines 
 may serve as a specimen : — 
 
 TToXXa*, 
 'a SevoKXfjg orfTu^ Iv A67}votig csi7rvt(r6v ^pa^, 
 Hx6ov yuD % UKEKTB, TToXvg Se fioi lo'Trsro Xi/^©**. 
 
 The Poem, it must be confessed, has some 
 pleasantry, and much dexterity of comical per- 
 version. We cannot wonder at its effect upon 
 a people, who had all Homer in their memo- 
 ries. It b easy to conceive the roar of the 
 Athenian upper gallery^ when, in the description 
 of the cook, bringing in the supper, they heard 
 this line : 
 Tea V oto(x, TB(r(rBooc}COVT» jjLBXetivxt XTTPAI 
 
 Sometimes the Parody depended on a pun ; of 
 which Athenaeus gives, with great complacence, 
 
 a curious 
 
 • Av3fa fiOi ewEgre, Maaa, woXyr^oTrov, b( fiaha tto^Xoi. 
 
 Horn, Od, init. 
 
 * Hxdov ya^ H axti<rt, TToyjg 3e /uoi Bcnrero >u^. Horn, 
 
 Horn, in Catal, fqsiim. 
 
a66 NOTES. 
 
 a curious example, in a scrap from a Parody of 
 JEubceuSj describing a quarrel between a barber 
 and a potter. The barber, whose wife, it seems, 
 the other attempts to force from him, addresses 
 the potter in the language of Nestor** : — 
 
 M^T6 (TV TOvS\ «yafl®- 'TTSO gUV, CCTTOOCIO^O 
 
 KOTPHN, 
 MriTS (TV, nHAEIAH. 
 
 — where the joke depends on the allusion to 
 HHAOS, mud, or clay; and, probably, to the 
 trade of the speaker, in tiie word kh^^u ; or, 
 perhaps, to the instrument of his art, which we 
 may suppose the actor of the Parody to have 
 brandished at his adversary. — But I do not mean 
 to take to myself the honour of this illustration 
 of an Attic joke. It is to be found in the Poetics 
 of J. C, Scaliger, — See A then, p, 699. B. 
 
 NOTE 16. • 
 
 P. io6. The Deliad. 
 
 The conjecture of Castelvetro, t»iv AElA*a^a, 
 (which might be rendered, The Foitroniad,) was 
 certainly ingenious, but, I think, unnecessary. 
 Dacicr's account is probably right ; and both his 
 idea, and the common reading, seem to receive 
 some support from the similar national titles that 
 are preserved of other pieces of tliis Poet ; such 
 
 as. 
 
 ^ See II. I. 275, &c. 
 
 NOTES. 267 
 
 as, Kf »»Tic, Aax«v£?, A»)/xkt«». — See Suidas and 
 FabrkiuSp 
 
 NOTE 17. 
 
 P. 106. So, AGAIN, "WITH RESPECT TO 
 PITHYRAMBICS AND NOMES. 
 
 Thq expression, in this passage, is too general, 
 and too little is known of the examples mentioned 
 in it, to admit of perfipct satisfaction, with respects 
 to any thing farther than its general meaning; 
 i. e. that both Dithyrambic and Nomic Poetry 
 admitted the same differences in the objects of 
 their imitation. For so, 1 think, the sense requires 
 us to understand ; not, that the imitation of heroic 
 characters \^ as appropriated to the one, and that 
 of liaht characters to the other. Both these 
 species of Poetry were hymns; and ^hough the 
 Dithyrambic, or hyum to Bacchus, might, indeed, 
 from its wild and free character, be privileged with, 
 a greater latitude and variety of imitation, yet I 
 know of no authority that will warrant our going 
 so far, as to suppose, that they were essentially 
 distinguished from each other in this respect, like. 
 Tragedy and Comedy *. 
 
 Tiie construction of the Greek I understand, 
 
 to be this: — fAifAna-cciTO dv ng, Jf TijiaoOiI^ xai 
 4>*AoJfj/©* [sc. f/xi|W.T](rai^ToJ Tle^<rxg xat KvKXuTOcg, 
 
 I am 
 
 * Yet so tiie last Ox. e.t:tor seenis to uncjerstand :— 
 ** Hoc diffcrre Nomos a DItliyrambis, quod ilUs personai 
 ** zrayeff his leva imitarcntur** P*273. 
 
^ N O T E SL 
 
 a curious example, in a scrap from a Parody of 
 ^nA^^w.S describing a quarrel between a barber 
 and a potter. The barber, whose wife, it seems, 
 the other attempts to force from him, addressee, 
 the potter in tlic language of Nestor" : 
 
 MriTS crv TOvS\ aycc6^ ^gj l^,^ uttoxiobo 
 KOTPHN, 
 
 Mnn (TV, nHAEIAH. 
 
 — where the joke depends on the allusion to 
 HHAor, mud, or clay; and, probably, to the 
 trade of the speaker, in the word K^gnv ; or, 
 perhaps, to the instrument of his art, which we 
 may suppose the actor of the Parody to have 
 brandished at his adversary.— But I do not mean, 
 to take to myself the honour of this illustration' 
 of an Attic joke. It is to be found in the Poetics 
 of J. C. Scaliger.—See Athett. p. 699. B. 
 
 NOTE 16. 
 
 P. 106. The Deliad.--. 
 
 The conjecture of Castelvetro, t„» AEJa.^J*, 
 (which might be rendered, The Poltroniad,) was 
 certainly ingenious, but, I think, unnecessary. 
 Dacicr's account is probably right ; and both his 
 idea, and the common reading, seem to receive 
 some support froju the similar national titles that 
 are preserved of otlier pieces of tliis Poet ; such 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 267 
 
 as. 
 
 t See II. I. 275, &c. 
 
 1^, Kftirif, Aa)t«»£t, A»)f*»nti. — See Su'tdas and 
 Fabricius, 
 
 VQT'E. 17. 
 P. XO0, So, AGAIN, v{ii:a respect to. 
 
 JJITHVRAMBICS AND NOME;s. 
 
 Thq expression, in this passage, is too general, 
 a^jitoo little i^ known of the examples mentioned 
 in it, to admit of perfect satisfaction, with respecti 
 to any thing farther than its geqeral njeaning; 
 i. e. that both Dithyrambic and Nomic Poetry 
 a4q[ijtted the same differences in the objects of 
 their imitation. For so, 1 think, the sense requires. 
 us to understand ; not, that the imitation of heivic 
 characters was appropriated to the one, and that 
 of light characters to the other. Both these 
 species of Poetiy were hymns; and ^hough the 
 I^ithyrambic, or hymn to Bacchus, might, indeed, 
 from its wild and free character, be privileged with, 
 a., greater latitude and variety of imitation, yet I 
 know of no authority that will warrant our going 
 so far, a5 tp suppose, that they were essentially 
 distinguished frpm each other in this respect, like. 
 Tragedy and Comedy *. 
 
 Tiie construction of the Greek I, understand: 
 
 to be this: — fxifj.n(ronTo dv nq, cJ? Ti^ofii^ xa* 
 $*AoJfk^ [sc. l^^Jf.ri^ol.vro\ Ht^frxq y.ixi Kvx\UTra^. 
 
 I am 
 » ■■■ » ■ I ■ I II . 
 
 * Yet so tiie last Ox. etiitor seems to understand :— 
 '* Hoc diffcrre Nemos a Dithyrambis, quod illis personal 
 ^^ ^rayef, hislcves imitannturJ** ^^2']'^, 
 
 \ \ 
 
/ 
 
 # 
 
 •*• NOTES. 
 
 I am astonished, that any commentators should 
 have taken either of the compositions here men- 
 tiohed for dramas ; an idea totally repugnant to 
 the plain sense of the whole passage, and to the 
 evident purpose for %vhich these examples are 
 cited. With respect to the nif,ra., the passage 
 of Pausanias may be regarded as decisive;— 
 nuXctin — iTwIr©' T.f«oS« NOMON, t« MiA,f „, 
 HEPZAI *. 
 
 The Poem of Philoxenus here meant must, 
 clearly, have been either a Nome, or a Dithy- 
 rambic Poem ; most probably, Uie latter. Phi- 
 loxenus is recorded as a Dithyrambic Poet ; and 
 Aristotle's illustration will be more complete, if 
 we understand him to exemplify in each of the 
 kinds of Poetry in question. It is by no means 
 certain, that the Cyclops of Philoxenus mentioned 
 by Athenffius, iElian, and others, is the piece here 
 alluded to : and, if it were, which, undoubtedly, 
 appears rather probable, I know of no sufficient 
 proof that it was a Drama, as it has been re- 
 peatedly (ailed. If iElian is to be regarded, it 
 certainly was not ; for he calls it /*iAof — a tern 
 appropriated to Lyric Poetry.— t.i, KTKAXinA 
 I'lgycKTXT,, TMi- I'auTU MEAXIN re x«AAiro» '. 
 
 I men- 
 
 I 
 
 ^ Paus. Jrcad,— And the Poem began with an hex- 
 ameter verse which is there quoted. Yet Fabric iu« calU 
 it a Tragedy. 
 
 f ^L Far. fiist. Itb. xii. cap. 44. 
 
 NOTES, a&9 
 
 I mentioned, in the conclusion of note 1. a 
 problem of Aristotle, from which it appears, that 
 the Dithyrambic Poetry was not originally imi^ 
 tativCy but became so by degrees. It is the 1 5th 
 of the Harmonic Problems, Sect. 19. It is there 
 said, that the Dithyrambics, after they became 
 imitative, laid aside the antistrophical form, 
 (i. e. the division into corresponding stanzas",) 
 in which, before, they had been composed '. And 
 the reason assigned for tliis is^ that, originally, 
 these Dithyrambic hymns were performed by cho- 
 russes of gentleinen, [iXiuSf^oi] who could not sing 
 in the style of artists, and professors : [aywi^irmw^ 
 aViiy :] the words were, therefore, set to the sim- 
 plest kind of melody, such as that, in which the 
 same air is repeated to similar stanzas, as in our 
 ballads \ But afterwards, it seems, the perform- 
 ance 
 
 
 ^ AvTirfo^^— I2H, •OMOIA. Hesych. 
 
 * •^^TEiJoy fMfjLiTTPtoi tytfovTOy HKBTt ix>i<nv avrir^opi(f, 
 Wf»Tffo» 3f elxov. 
 
 ' Aio uTThitre^a iTTOttsvro ainoii ja fXE^jf ri h avTir^op(^ 
 aTAtfv* a^tdfx^ yaf en hcu m fXET^Bnat : i. e. (if i under- 
 stand it righdy,) it consists of a number of parts that 
 have oru common measure, ' 
 
 That, in the Strophe and Antistrophe of the Greek 
 Ode, the same musical strain was repeated, is clear 
 from Dionys. Hal. de Struct. Orat. § 19, roi; h ra fxiUi 
 y^oupaciyu.r.cxx. And also from what Aristotle, in this 
 Prob. says of the Nomes, which were not antistrophical, 
 and the melodies o^ which, as well as the words tj? jmi^ijctei 
 iK^^^ AEI ETEPA 7Jw/*fKi. 
 
 I 
 
/ 
 
 // 
 
 \, * 
 
 %7o Notes. 
 
 ance of these hymns, like tliat of the Nome^, was 
 left to professed musicians, the a>Hrai, or miters 
 of the art, who contended wHh each other in trials 
 'trf skill, and who were, of course, to exert all 
 their imitative powers. The symmetry of strophe 
 and antistrophe, and the simplicity of air regularly 
 repeated, were ill adapted to this purpose, \hich 
 required length, variety, and frequent changes^ 
 of metre, melody, rhythm, mode, genus, &c. in 
 conformity to the various subjects of imitation, 
 and transitions of expression \— This account^ 
 ^vhich affords some little glimpse of curious in- 
 formation, with respect both to the Nomic and 
 Dithyrambic hymn, is confirmed, as far as the 
 latter is concerned, by Dionysius Halicarn. De 
 Structurd Orat, Sect, 19. lie there traces the 
 progress of all this Lyric corruption, and nanies 
 TiMOTHEus and Philoxenus as the principal 
 authors of these licentious and wicked innova- 
 tions—^' for, in the time of tlie old Poets," he says^ 
 
 " the 
 
 » See Dr. Burner's Hist, of Music, vol. i. p.6i, &c. 
 
 — aywwrwv— civ »j^n fJuixiiaQat ^uvafAtvm nai ^iaTtiY£(7^ai, 
 i ft»3?j htVETO (Aox^cc xai TTOJ^Ei^i, KaOaTTt^ h ra PHMATA, 
 kcu ra MEAH rn ^^rj^ra mo>^6u, an fre^a yivo^fw.^He 
 adds, A*aWL'v ya^ t^ /i£7jr, St,vayKn fM(A.ii<T&cu rt roig pv/xcurt'— 
 by which, I suppose, he means, that in this union of 
 poetical and musical imitation in the Nomes, the musical 
 imitation was consicltred as the principal and most 
 essential object. 
 
 NOTES. 271 
 
 " the Dithyrambic ode was an ordei^ly and re- 
 ** guhr composition*." 
 
 Plutarch, too, in the Dialogue Ui^i M»<r»x»j?, 
 speaks exactly the same language. Timotheus 
 and Philoxenus are there repeatedly stigmatized 
 as corrupters of the good old music; and the 
 li^¥ix^u^ and Xifi^m^ii^ t^ott©^, is opposed to 
 the ^iXoJivfi^'', with a zeal similar to that, with 
 •which, in modern music, we sometimes hear the 
 style of Corelli and Geminiani opposed and pre- 
 ferred to the heterodox novelties of Haydn and 
 Boccherini. 
 
 The manner, in which Aristotle, in this pro- 
 blem, speaks of the Nomes, when Compared ^vith 
 his expressions relative to the Dithyrambics, 
 rather leads one to suppose, that the former were 
 not, even origi?iallj/, composed in the antistrophic 
 form*: the least, however, that can be inferred 
 from it, is, that they discarded that form, and, 
 consequently, became complicated, artificial, and 
 imitative, long before a similar revolution took 
 place in the Dithyrambic Poetry and Music. — 
 I may, also, observe that the variety of imitation, 
 
 and 
 
 * — Tra^a ys toi( a^xouot; TETAFMENOS HN O 
 AI0TPAMBO2. What he means by TiTay/Mtv(^ is suffi- 
 ciently explained in the first paragraph of the same 
 section. 
 
 * Plut. Ed. H. Steph. /».2092, and 2084. 
 
 ' Awf T< 01 fuv No/tioi HK iv dmr^opoi; EIIOIOTNTO ;^ 
 and, 01 NofMi ^«wrwy H2AN. 
 
^7^ NOTE S. 
 
 and changes of ex}>ression, clearly attributed by 
 Aristotle to the Nomes, seem to confirm what I 
 said above— that they did not ej;dude the same 
 variety, in the objects of their imitation, which tlic. 
 Dithyrambic Poem confessedly admitted. 
 
 I will just add, that this problem of Aristotle 
 throws light upon a passage in his Rhetoric, which 
 has embarrassed his commentators. He there 
 [lib. iii. cap. 9.] compares the diction that is di- 
 vided into periods, to the Antistrophic Odes " of 
 the old Poets r but, tlie Ai£,f ii>o/.ii.i,, in which 
 the sentence has no other unity than that which 
 copulatives give it", nor any other measure than 
 the completion of the sense, and tlie necessity of 
 taking breath ", or, as Cicero, in few words, ^0 
 admirably describes it, " ilia sine interval/is lo- 
 " quacitas perennis et profluens**"— tl)is Aristotle 
 compares to what he calls the aVa/JoAai in Dithyr- 
 ambic Poetry ,• meaning, I think, evidently, the 
 long, irregular, protracted Odes of the more 
 .modern Ditliyrambic Poets; such as those, of 
 which he speaks in the Problem. For the word, 
 Ayx^oM, here, does not, I believe, signify exordium, 
 
 prooeiniitm, 
 
 ■ " — T« avj^Eo-fM) fiiav. 
 n i^gv ix^t T£X(^ Ha^ aumv, av (xn to sr^ay/ua XiyofMvg^ 
 ji\sm&n. The periodic diction, as opposed to this, he calls 
 tthLvaimyr^. [§ 3.>--llIe rudis, incondite fun^it quanting 
 potest, et id quod dicit SPIRITU, non art£, determiiuu 
 "^Cic, de Gr.iii.44. 
 
 ; i?^ Or. ili. 48. 
 
 NOTES. 273 
 
 procemiitm, as usually understood, but was, pro- 
 bably, the name by which these wVat /ixaxca* xa* 
 woA^itiTHf P were distinguished, and opposed to the 
 old and simple Dithyrambic in stanzas. 
 
 NOTE 18. 
 
 P. 106. Either in narration, - 
 
 THAT, AGAIN, EITHER, &C. 
 
 - - AND 
 
 It may safely be pronounced, that the original 
 here, either is not as Aristotle left it, or, ^^ as care- 
 lessly and ambiguously written. As the ambi- 
 guity, how^ever, does not affect the general sense 
 of the passage, it is scarcely worth while to en- 
 gage in a minute discussion of the comparative 
 merits of the two different constructions, which 
 have been adopted by different commentators and 
 translators. The learned reader know^s, or may 
 see, what has been said on both sides. I have 
 preferred that construction, which has always 
 appeared to me to result most obviously and- 
 naturally from the words of the original. — h roiq 
 
 auTOK, xat T« uiiTa. fAifxntrion triv, ore fjnv AIIArrEA- 
 AONTA (1I In^ov n yiyvoixtyoyy itrtn^ *0/xu^^ 7roi£i, 
 
 nPATTONTAS xat Ivi^yavrocg ra; fAifxaixivag. — 
 
 In the other, and most usual way of taking 
 ^is passage, the mixture of mere nai^ratioriy and 
 
 dramatic 
 
 p See note ^. 
 
 VOL, I. 
 
 (/ 
 
^74 NOTE S; 
 
 dramatic imitation, in the Epic species, is ex- 
 pressed by the words, 6rs f^ty djrxyyiXXoyTO,, i 
 
 inpov Ti yiyyofxtyoy. But it seems not likely, that 
 Aristotle would thus oppose the word aVayyix- 
 Aovra, to htpov ti yiyvofMiyoy ; bccause the term, 
 dirccyyiXiu, is constantly applied by him, through- 
 out the treatise, to the narrative species in ge- 
 neral : it is opposed, not to the dramatic part of 
 the Epic, but to the drama itself. ATrccyytx.x 
 and <r»uyiio-tf, axe used by him as synonymous 
 terms, and are both applied to the whole of the 
 Homeric, or dramatic. Epic Poem *. 
 
 On the other hand, the words— if ETEPON n 
 yiyvo/xfvov— seem evidently opposed to— n' «f TON 
 ATTON xai ^„ /*fTa/3aXAovTa, and should, there- 
 fore, be joined with them, not with iirxyytxxoyrx, 
 —Lastly, in this way of understanding the pas- 
 sage, Aristotle divides the different manners of 
 imitation, as he niight naturally be expected to 
 divide them, into those which characterize the 
 two great and principal species, of which he 
 means to treat—the narrative and the dra- 
 3IATIC. The two different modes of the former, 
 i. e. the pure narrative, and the dramatic narrative, 
 are, with more propriety than in the other con- 
 struction, (in his view of the subject, at least,) 
 
 flung, into a subdivision. 
 
 — ■ In 
 
 ' ^'' ^^- ^•— ^J* ^£ AIIArrEAIAN mm— 
 
 ipcaking of the Epic Poem.— And r^.vi. in the defi- 
 nition of Tragedy — «a* « ai* ADAFrEAIAS. So, 
 ch.xxiii. and xxi\. passim. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ^7S 
 
 In either construction, however, Aristotle agrees 
 with Plato in enumerating three kinds of Poetry, 
 the purely dramatic, the purely narmtive, and 
 the mixed **. But the generality of the commen- 
 tators seem, too hastily, to have taken it for 
 granted, that Aristotle must therefore necessarily 
 enumerate them in the same manner ; and they 
 have, accordingly, moulded the flexible and am- 
 biguous construction of this passage, exactly 
 upon the division of Plato ^ 
 
 I was glad to find myself supported here by the 
 judgment of the accurate Piccolomini, whose ver- 
 sion coincides with mine. — In un modo, per via 
 di narratione, — e questo, 6 ponendo se stesso alle 
 volte il Poeta in persona d altri, come fa Homero, 
 over conservando sempre la propria persona non 
 mutata mai. Nel altro modo poi, introducendo 
 persone k trattare et negotiare, come se le stesse 
 persone che sono imitate, fussero. 
 
 With respect to the imitation here expressly 
 allowed by Aristotle to subsist even in me7x nar- 
 ration, without the intermixture of any thing 
 dramatic, see Diss. I. p. 37, &c. 
 
 ^ PlatOy Rep, lib. iii. p. 392, D. to 394, D. Ed. Scrrani, 
 But, for the difference of Plato's doctrine, or rather of 
 his language, from that of Aristotle, see Diss. I. />. 60. 
 
 • See, particulady. Is. Casaubon, De Sat. Poes. 
 cap. iii. init. I agree perfectly with Mr. Winstanley, 
 that his emendations are not necessary. [But sec 
 
 REMARK 7, vol.ii. p. 461.] 
 VOL. I. T 2 
 
 / 
 
^74 NOTE S. 
 
 dramatic imitation, in the Epic species, is ex- 
 pressed by tfie words, on ^£v dirocyyaXoyroL, if 
 Iri^ov Ti yiyvofxiyoy. But it seems not likely, that 
 Aristotle would thus oppose the word dnxyyiX- 
 XovToc, to htpov Ti yiyvofAiyov; bccause the term, 
 d'^ccyys\iu, is Constantly applied by him, through- 
 out the treatise, to the narrative species in ge- 
 neral : it is opposed, not to the dramatic part of 
 the Epic, but to the drama itself. Airocyytx.x 
 and ^Tiuyuff-t^, aae used by him as synonymous 
 terms, and are both applied to the whole of the 
 Homeric, or dramatic. Epic Poem'. 
 
 On the other hand, the words— if ETEPON n 
 yiyko/x£j.ov— seem evidently opposed to— if cJf TON 
 ATTON xai |u», f^iTocf^xXXoyrcc, and should, there- 
 fore, be joined with them, not with dirayyiXXoyrix. 
 —Lastly, in this way of understanding the pas- 
 sage, Aristotle divides the different man?!ers of 
 imitation, as he might naturally be expected to 
 divide them, into those which characterize the 
 two great and principal species, of which he 
 means to treat— the narrative and the dra- 
 matic. The two different modes of the former, 
 i. e. the pure narrative, and the dramatic narrative, 
 are, with more propriety than in the other con- 
 struction, (in his view of the subject, at least,) 
 
 flung, into a subdivision. 
 
 . — ! Tn 
 
 ^ See ch. V.--TJ, ^£ - - ATUrrEAlAN ihcu^ 
 
 speaking of the Epic Poem.— And capM. in the defi. 
 nition of Tragedy — iw« « ^; AOArrEAIAX. So, 
 ch. xxiii. and xxi\-. passim. 
 
 NOTES. 275 
 
 < 
 
 In either construction, however, Aristotle agrees 
 with Pluto in enumerating three kinds of Poetry, 
 the purely dramatic, the purely narrative, and 
 the mixed \ But the generality of the commen- 
 tators seem, too hastily, to have taken it for 
 granted, that Aristotle must therefore necessarily 
 enumerate them in the same n^anner ; and they 
 have, accordingly, moulded the flexible and am- 
 biguous construction of this passage, exactly 
 upon the division of Plato '. 
 
 I was glad to find myself supported here by the 
 judgment of the accurate Piccolomini, whose ver- 
 sion coincides with mine. — In ux modo, per via 
 di narratione, — e qmsto, 6 ponendo se stesso alle 
 volte il Poeta in persona d altri, come fa Homero, 
 over conservando sempre la propria persona non 
 mutata mai. Nel altro modo poi, introducendo 
 persone i trattare et negotiare, come se le stesse 
 persone che sono imitate, fussero. 
 
 With respect to the imitation here expressly 
 allowed by Aristotle to subsist even in meix nar- 
 ration, without the intermixture of any thing 
 dramatic, see Diss. I. p. 37, &c. 
 
 ^ PlatOy Rep, lib. iii. p. 392, D. to 394, D. Ed. Scrrani. 
 But, for the difference of Plato's doctrine, or rather of 
 his language, from that of Aristotle, see Diss. 1. p. 60. 
 
 • See, particularly. Is. CasaubQn, De Sat. Poes, 
 cap. iii. init. I agree perfectly with Mr. Winstanley, 
 that his emendations are not necessary. [But sec 
 
 REMARK 7. vol. ii. p. 461.] 
 VOL. I. T 2 
 
 ff 
 
14^ 
 
 276 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 19. 
 
 X 
 
 p. 106. Elevated characters — 
 
 Gr. inoTAAiors, 
 
 if 
 
 The adjective 2^«J«.Sh, and its opposite 
 *««A^, are words of considerable latitude.' 
 They, each of them, comprehend a number of 
 different, though related, ideas, for which wc 
 have not, that I know of, any common word. 
 Propriety itself, therefore, requires of a trans- 
 lator that, which, at first view, seems contrary to 
 propnety-that he should render each of those 
 words differently in different places. To have 
 translated ^^«;«.«f here, "g-ood;" or '^virtuous:' 
 as It may gaierdly be translated, would only 
 have been giving an English uord with a Greek 
 Idea, which none but readers of Greek would 
 have affixed to it. 
 
 The Greeks appear to have applied the word 
 JnOTAAION, to whatever urn, on anj, accouJ 
 «J.«. .W„-whatever was respeclabk, impor'. 
 tant, admirable, serious, valuable, &c. as opposed 
 to *ATAON, which was applied, not to mfonly 
 but to whatever was contemptible, trifling \ Hg/it, 
 
 „. ,; • ordinary, 
 
 ' Demosthenes has tin's expression • i 
 
 IS sometimes used in /.W/V.r En.uTTor Si? 
 " no ^^^ blows/* ^»5"sa, tor, tnjm^: 
 
 NOTES. 277 
 
 erdhiari/, ridiculous— or, as we say in familiar 
 English, good for nothing. Hence the various 
 senses of both these words in the Greek writers, 
 according as they were applied to persons, and 
 things, that were the objects of esteem, or con- 
 tempt, on different accounts. Sometimes, there- 
 fore, irmSxit^ may be rendered by '^goodf 
 sometimes by " serious, earnest,"' &c.— Some- 
 times, as in this passage, and in the definition 
 of Tragedy, by '' elevated;' " important,'' &c. ' 
 
 Suidas explains the word, not only by Eva^fT(^, 
 but by SO^OX, and ETAOKIMOS. See also the 
 article, <!>x\jX(^. Hesychius gives, as synony- 
 mous to ^x\jX^, not only the general word, 
 Kax^, but, ETTEAH2— 'AnAOTS— KATAFE- 
 AASTOS. And Phavorinus — (pa,\)KQy, to xaxov, 
 xxi TO iiriXzq, xai to ^ixfok, xat OTZiAMINON — • 
 Angl. " good for nothing." 
 
 Some kind of virtue, in the extended sense 
 given to the word APETH by, the antient writers 
 on morals, was, indeed, always implied in the 
 epithet Ziralxii^ ; but it included such good 
 qualities, and endowments, as xcc do not usually 
 call virtues; or, at least, such as we never 
 include in our idea of a virtuous man": as, 
 
 wisdom, 
 
 ^ Tiius, Dacier — les gens plus considerables. — Picco- 
 lomini — persone grave : — attione grave e magnifica. — 
 Hcinsius — honestos. Gouhton,-- prastantes. Sec. 
 
 ' See Hume's Printiples of Morals, Sect. 6. Part I, — 
 particularly p. Ill, &c.— and the note, p. 104. 
 
 T3 
 
278 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 wisdom, courage, eloquence, &c.— Thus Aristotfe 
 himself; -TO St inOTAAION „V«., ,5-. „ tA2 
 APETA2 tx."'^. And what are these viriuis f~ 
 they are—" all laudable habitsr—rm J^«^ t*; 
 EnAINETAX, APETA2 Aiy<,,u,» '. 
 
 The subject of Criticism is necessarily con- 
 nected, in some degree, with that of Ethics; 
 and unless we understand weii the moral language 
 of any writer, we cannot be competent iudaes of 
 nis critJcism. 
 
 NOTE 20. 
 
 P. 107. In support of these claims 
 
 THEY ARGUE FR03X THE WORDS THEM- 
 SELVES. 
 
 Uoi^f^tyoi rx lyoi^cLTcc (rt,/x£,o*..— The participle, 
 ^oi«^s.oi, should be applied, I think, to all the 
 Dorians-not confined, as in Dacier's trans- 
 lation, to those of Peloponnesus. See Goulston s 
 version, which appears to me to be right. 
 
 Aristotle begins by saying expressly, that the 
 Dorians, in gemral, laid claim to both Tragedy 
 and Comedy, on account of the term APAMA, 
 Avhich was a Doric word :— Aio (i. e. from the 
 term Ac^^^ra, just before mentioned,) iyTuvo^^yrai 
 
 T>Jf 
 
 "" Mag, Moral, u I. « 
 
 * Eth,Nicom,— End r>f Book I.-I may also refer the 
 reader, on this subject, to Cic. de Or, lib.ii. cap. 84. 
 " Virtus autem, quae est per se ipsa iaudabiiis," &c. 
 
 NOTES. 279 
 
 Tfif Ti Tpocyuifioi; xa* rrig Kccfxafiaq OI AflPIEIS. — 
 He then mentions the pecuUai^ claims of the 
 Megarians to Comedy, and of the Dorians of 
 Peloponnesus to Tragedy ; throwing in, paren- 
 thetically, some other arguments on which the 
 former aho founded their title to the invention of 
 Comedy : after which, he returns, at tha w^ord 
 ir/)i»/xfkOi, to shew, how these people concurred in 
 arguing from the etymology of the icords them- 
 selves ; all of them, from the word J^a^a, as it 
 was common to Tragedy and Comedy, and they, 
 who laid claim to Comedy, both from that, and 
 also from the derivation of the word K&;/Aw<^ta. 
 
 The construction, in this way, is, I confess, 
 somewhat parenthetical and embarrassed; but 
 the reader, who is accustomed to the style of 
 Aristotle, will not, I believe, consider this as 
 affording alone any sufficient presumption against 
 the explanation here given. 
 
 NOTE 2U 
 
 ! 
 
 P. 108. The FIGURES of the meanest 
 
 AND MOST DISGUSTING ANIMALS. 
 
 0u^iwi/ T£ /xo^(p«f rm ATIMOTATXIN. — This 
 reading is strongly supported by the arguments 
 of Victorius, the authority of MSS. and the sense 
 and purport of the passage itself, which seems to 
 require instances of meany or disgusting, rather 
 than of terrible^ objects. Thus too Plutarch, in 
 
 T 4 the 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
28o NOTES. 
 
 the passages referred to by Victorias, which un- 
 
 doubtcdiy allude to this of Aristotle r 
 
 iNemn^;' ''"""'" '''"-"" ^°^"^" ^- 
 
 NOTE 22. 
 
 To the same purpose, i„ his Itiitoric B i 
 
 « i U £KEINO • «„ MAN0ANEIN r. 
 
 to LEARx, t<5 ABMiuE, and the like, hence we 
 
 necessar Iv rer* iuo ^i ® 
 
 "y receive pleasure from imitative 
 
 " arts, 
 
 '^ plate, 1 thiiik, improbable, because th. c 
 P-opie .„„ec,.ce,y follows, i„ O^^Z.^^:'""' 
 
 (t 
 
 16 
 
 a 
 
 iC 
 
 a 
 
 i( 
 
 NOTES. a8i 
 
 arts, as Painting, Sculpture, and Poetry, 
 and from whatever is well imitated, even 
 though the original may be disagreeable ; for 
 our pleasure does not arise from the beauty of 
 the thing itself, but from the viftrence — the 
 discovery, that **This is That," &e. so that 
 *' we seem to learn something." - - - 
 
 Mav6avf ik — to learji^ to know, i. e. merely to 
 recognize, discover, &c. See Harris, On 3Iusic, 
 Painting, &c. ch, iv. note (b). The meaning is 
 sufficiently explained by what follows. Dryden, 
 who scarce ever mentions Aristotle "without dis- 
 covering that he had looked only at the w rong 
 side of the tapestry *", says — " Aristotle tells us, 
 " that imitation pleases because it affords matter 
 ^^ for a reasoner to enquire into the truth or 
 " falsehood of imitation," &c.** But Aristotle is 
 
 not 
 
 ^ " Methinkes this translating,^* says Don Quixote, 
 *^ is just like looking upon the wrong side of arras hang" 
 ingi ; that although the pictures be seene, yet they arc 
 full of thred-ends, that darken them, and they are not 
 *' seene with the plainnesse and smoothnesse as on the 
 ** other side.'* SheltorCs Don Quixote. Sec, part, cK Ixii. 
 
 ^ Parallel between Poetry and Painting, prefixed to his 
 translation of Dufresnoy. Dryden seems to have taken 
 his idea from Dacier's note on this place, which is ex- 
 tremely confused, and so expressed, as to leave it doubt- 
 ful, whether he misunderstood the original, or only 
 explained himself awkwardly. — The use that Dryden 
 made of French critics and translators is well known. 
 
 He 
 
 r< 
 
 i< 
 
*«2 NOTES. 
 
 not here speaking of reckoners, or inguiry; but 
 
 » nd who. he expressly .,,..1 ,, ^ 
 sophers, or reasoners : and liis cuAAov.f,^.. 
 
 IS no more than that rapid habit„«I 7.^"^'' 
 rpnrihi» . ^ , ^ ' "^^""al. and imper- 
 ceptible act of the mind that "ro.-c 
 an«i r.-^ . . ' raisoniiement 
 
 aussi prompt que le coup d'cEil," fas it is wHl 
 paraphrased by M Datteu^ ^ h \- T 
 or infer f ^a"eux,) by which we collect. 
 
 It r t ""P"'^^" ^^ ^'- P'«"- with 
 
 ti^e mage of the original in our minds that it 
 
 was intended to represent that original. 
 
 The fullest illustration of this passage is to be 
 found in another work of Aristotle. his°Khe toric 
 f •'V''^-^;-'^- he applies the same prn-' 
 p ut^r^'^'l ^^"°"^°"^' -^ --'ves'the 
 whTchlri et r^K^" '"'^^ '"Suage, into that 
 Which anses from the ^«9,.., TAXEIA-the ex- 
 ercise of our understandings in discoverhg the 
 
 oualitv or ^.v ''''•^ perception of some 
 
 quality or qualities common to the thin. e.r- 
 
 Pressed, and the thing intended- to a mirror for 
 
 -ample, and to the theatre, when t^"2X 
 
 ^ ed metaphorically, «< The .i„or of h mal 
 
 He commends " i)a«V,.., /^,, , 
 
 before the passage above quoted. '^"""- ■<"" 
 
 - ^" ^^"'* "^ ^^'^'^. ^«f. p. 190, and note*. 
 
 NOTES. 2«3 
 
 In the Problems, Sect, i g, Proi. V. the same 
 principle is applied to Music. The Problem is, 
 Why we are more pleased with singing when we 
 are acquainted with the air that is sung, than 
 when it is new to us ?— And one of tlie answers 
 IS, OT. i.iv TO f.«i-9*n„— i. e. to say, this is such a 
 tune, or song, &c. And indeed the pleasure 
 afforded by recognitkn, is no where, perhaps, 
 more visibly illustrated, than in the raptures and 
 rhythmical agitation of a popular audience, at 
 the return of the leading air, in that species of 
 infallible ear-trap, the Rondeau.— I must add, 
 as somewhat amusing, that Plato makes use of 
 this principle to prove a dog to be a philosophical 
 animal: " for, (he argues,) to ?.A«;u«fl.f ««, 
 <piX<)<ro<p<,>, T avrov, the love of knowing, and the 
 love of wisdom, are one and the same thing. 
 "'Now dogs are delighted with /■«02i;/wo-, simply, 
 " and disinterestedly; they fawn upon every 
 " one whom they know, and bark at the approach 
 of every stranger*; and that, without having 
 ever experienced good from the one, or harm 
 " from the other '." 
 
 The 
 
 (( 
 
 <( 
 
 IC 
 
 (I 
 
 i< 
 
 « Every pei-son, of whom, in Aristotle's language, 
 they cannot say— 'Ovt^ mtv©-. " This is he.'* 
 
 *» 'Ov fxiv ay Ih ArNHTA, xc^^Traivsty i^hv ^ti koxov 
 '^TfOTuBTTOvQoji' ov ^ av TNaPIMON, aaira^iTcu, k ay fxnhv 
 
 vuTTore UTT avTH aya^ov Trevovdoi, AMa ^w xofji.4.ov ye 
 
 ^aivETai TO TtaQ^ aum tji; <pu<reu;, xat HZ AA'HGaS 
 *lAOXO$ON : H, T. o^. Rep. \l p. 376. Serran. 
 
284 NOTE S. 
 
 The philosophy of Aristotle here, though un- 
 doubtedly true, as far as it goes, t\'ill, I am afraid, 
 to those who examine it, hardly appear to be 
 perfectly satisfactory, or to reach the bottom of 
 the subject. It is however to be considered, that 
 what he has said, seems applicable chiefly to 
 rude and unskilful spectators, and should, per- 
 haps, be considered as a description of the effect 
 of a picture or a statue upon children, and the 
 multitude, who are little accustomed to view 
 works of imitative art. And even with respect 
 to them, the principle seems scarcely applicable 
 but to portraits, and individual reseipblances, 
 such as may not be instantly recognized. When 
 we look at a picture of that kind, we may not dis- 
 cover, till after a comparison of, at least, a few 
 moments, that it is an imitation of this or that 
 person ; but, that it is an imitation of a man, we 
 see at once; and where there is not even a 
 momentary ignorance, or doubt, I do not see how 
 any information ' can be said to be acquired by 
 the spectator, nor how, on the philosopher s own 
 principles, (if I rightly understand him,) the 
 pleasure conveyed by the imitation, can, in any 
 sense, be resolved into that, which the mind 
 receives froai the exertion of its own powers in 
 inferring, or discovering, the resemblance.— 
 I say, on Aristotle's oxvn principles, because, in 
 
 the 
 
 NOTES. 285 
 
 the passage above referred to^, where he explains 
 himself more fully in applying the principle ta 
 metaphor, he expressly allows, that this pleasure 
 of recognition, is not afforded by proper or 
 common words, since they instantly suggest their 
 meaning and cannot be mistaken*. Now a 
 painting, considered as an imitation of a man, a 
 horse, a house, in generqly obviously answers in 
 this respect, unless the imitation be grossly im- 
 perfect*, to the common and familiar word; the 
 one suggesting its original, as readily and im- 
 mediately, as the other suggests its idea. 
 
 Among Aristotle's illustrations of this physical 
 principle of tlie pleasure of self-information, as 
 it might be called, there are two short passages, 
 
 : I 
 
 m 
 
 ^ See below, note ^ 
 
 ^ Rhet. iii. 10. 
 
 ' — ra h Kv^ia IXMEN. — " The Stagirite having told 
 ** us what a natural pleasure we derive from infor- 
 '' MAT ion, and having told us that, in the subject of 
 *' words, exotic words want that pleasure from being ob- 
 " scure, and common words from being too well known,**^ 
 adds, &c. Harris, Phil, Inq, p. 190, note*. 
 
 * As it was, when Painting was in its infant state — 
 iy yaXaii koi cTra^yavoig — according to the quaint expres- 
 sion of -^lian, Hist. Far. x. 10. — of which he seems to 
 have been fond ; for it occurs before Ub. viii. cap. 8. It 
 seems very properly guarded, in boch places, by a — 
 Tfosrov Tim, — The old painters of whom -^lian speaks 
 were little aware of Aristotle^s principle, when they 
 wrote under dieir pictures — T^o ggg ■ £ jk«h? <V;r®- — ^ 
 
 ? i- 
 
»86 NOTES, 
 
 in particular, which seem to be so explicit with 
 regard to the nature of that pleasure, that I will 
 venture to add to the length of this note by a 
 transcript and translation of them both. They 
 will, I think, satisfy the learned reader that I have 
 not, m the foregoing remarks, misrepresented the 
 philosopher's meaning. 
 
 After having applied the principle to metaphor, 
 he applies it in like manner to the enthymemes, 
 or arguments, of the orator. 
 
 evCoKiftei • {tTriTToXuicc yoc^ Xeyofziv rot. 'Ka.vTt, ly{Kot^ 
 xoti *A MHAEN AEI ZHTHZAI') ir^ oVa 
 Eipiif4.£foc dyvoufzevcx, |^< • cixx IcruVy ^ ufjLx Xeyo- 
 [iBvccv )j yvua-ig ytverui, ycoci el y^ri tt^otb^ov U7riyf;^6y, 
 rj iziyt^ov v^B^it^Bt ii Siavoioc' yiveroci yot^ 'OION 
 MA0HSII:- lycmujg Se, ^Sere^ov^ 
 
 For the same reason, we are pleased, 
 " neither, with superficial arguments, (by which 
 *' we mean such as are obvious to every one 
 " and require no thought or search in the hearer;) 
 " nor with such as we do not understand when 
 " we have heard them ; but, with those, which 
 the mind apprehends, either zvhik we hear 
 *' them, (though not atjirst,) or in the moment 
 " after they are delivered :— for by these^ we, 
 "m a manner y learn something: by the 
 
 " others^ 
 
 / 
 
 ^mi 
 
 ■ Rhet iii, lo. 
 
 NOTES. 287 
 
 ** others, we learn nothing in either of these 
 " ways"." 
 
 The other passage, in which the nature of the 
 pleasure that Aristotle means is still more ex- 
 pressly marked, is this : 
 
 JJocvTcov oe T6ov'^cvXXoyi(rfjLuv SoovfietToci uoc" 
 Xis'oc TCC roiUVTU ocroc udxo[jlbvoc nPOOPXlSI, 
 fJLfl rta BTrtTroXrig bIvoh • a^a yocp koci ATTOI E<P 
 EAYTGIE XAIPOTSI TT^ooncrdocvoiJLBvor Kut 
 ccruv TocrnTov v^B^t^vciv, co(r9 afix bIotiubvcov 
 yvcooi^Biv **. 
 
 " Of all arguments, tliose are most applauded ''y 
 " of which the audience have no sooner heard 
 " the beginning y than they foresee the conclu- 
 " sion ; — not, however, from their being trite and 
 " obvious ; for they are pleased, [not only with 
 " the ingenuity of the speaker, but^^ at the same 
 
 *• time, 
 
 - ■ ■ . - -■ ■ ^ ^ 
 
 •* «3fT£^ov — i.e. neither while we hear them, nor as 
 soon as we have heard them. 
 
 *• Rhet, ii. cap. xxiii. Duval, In some other editions, 
 cap. xix. 
 
 P " applaudcd^^ Qo^u^enat, The commentators 
 
 strangely mistake the sense of this word here, and in 
 lib. i. c, ii. They render it, absurdly, — vehementtiis per-- 
 
 cellunt — perturbantmaxiniey &c. Whether an audience 
 
 be pleased, or displeased, to any great degree, noise is 
 equally the consequence ; and the word Go^u^siv is used, 
 sometimes for the uproar of approbation, and sometimes 
 for that of dislike, 
 
 ^ I insert these words, because, tliough not in the 
 original, they seem plainly implied in the expression— 
 'AMA ya^ KAl cwtqi, &c. 
 
3t88 NOTES. 
 
 time, WITH THEMSELVES and their own saga- 
 city. — Those ariTuniei)ts, also, afford pleasure, 
 which, tlie momeni after tliey are delivered, we 
 are no longer at a loss to apprehend/' 
 
 H O T E S: 
 
 <« 
 
 u 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 m 
 
 NOTE 23. 
 
 P. 108. In a more transient and com- 
 pendious MANNER. 
 
 Eiri (i^x^v : — literally, " for a short time.'' As 
 Plato, Rep. iii. p. 39(5, xocra P^xx^y J^^ ^ '^^^^ 
 merit — en passant. Dacier's explanation — Quoi 
 qu'ils ne soient pas tous egalement propres d ap- 
 prendre,— \s, surely, wide of Aristotle's purpose. 
 None of the versions, that I have seen, seem to 
 give the exact idea, except that of Heinsius : — 
 ** Quamquam minor breviorque ad hos per- 
 
 veniat voluptas." 
 
 n 
 
 note 24. 
 
 p. 108. From the workmanship. 
 
 Ai« T»)F AnEPrASIAN—^' neatness "—^*>?iyA- 
 iwg-," &c. In the following passages of Plato, 
 it is opposed to a slight sketch : — xa» aurwi/ TifTOk 
 
 [SC. <Jtxaio<ruv»i?, <rw<ppo(ruvr)f, &c.] «;^ 'XIlOrPA^HN 
 /«*, wd-TTf^ y\iy 6£a<ra<r6a», oAAa TUk rtXturxmy APEP- 
 
 TAIIAN fxr\ wx^iiyxi' Rep. vi. p. 504. So again, 
 lib. viii. p. 548, the verb, a7rf/)ya{£<r9a*, is opposed 
 
 to iTT^y^x^Hv* 
 
 NOTE 25. 
 
 P. 109. Metre — a species of rhythm. 
 
 Uo fix —parts.— The following passage will 
 ascertain the sense of the word in this place, and 
 justify my version. Explaining the different senses 
 in which the word Mip©* was used, Aristotle 
 
 says, — ET«, £if X ro 5»V(^ ^ixi^i^Bin av, dvsv ns llcxra, 
 XXI rxvTx MOPIA Xsjurxi thth' $io rx EIAH, ra 
 FENOTi: (poc<ri9 slvxi MOPIA. — Metaphys. Ub.Y. 
 cap. 25. — So, in this treatise, cap.^.—r^ Autx^h 
 If* TO VtXoiQv MOPION— " a part, or species, of 
 *' the ridiculous." 
 ♦ 
 
 NOTE 26. 
 
 P. 109. Those persons, in whom, ori- 
 ginally, THESE propensities WERE THK 
 STRONGEST, &C. 
 
 It is obvious to remark here, that Aristotle, in 
 this deduction of the art from the mimetic and 
 musical instincts, includes verse in his idea of 
 Poetry, which he, at least, considered as imperfect 
 without it. All that he drops, elsewhere, to the 
 disparagement of metre, must be understood 
 only comparatively : it goes no farther, than to 
 say, that imitation, that is, fiction and invention, 
 without verse, deserves the title of Poetry, or 
 Making, better than verse witliout imitation. 
 
 VOL, I. u Aa 
 
 /.I 
 ^1 
 
^90 W O T E S. 
 
 An eminent writer has adjusted this matter, 
 and set it on its true and solid basis, in his Dis- 
 sertation On the idea of Universal Poetry^. 
 What is there said, of " the oricrin and first ap- 
 " plication of Poetry among all nations," will 
 furnish the best comment I can give, upon the 
 passage which is the subject of this note. 
 
 Poetry is every where of the most early 
 growth, preceding every other sort of compo- 
 sition ; and being destined for the ear, that is, 
 to be either sung, or at least recited, it adapts 
 itself, even in its first rude essays, to tlmt sense 
 of measure, and proportion in sounds, which is 
 '' so natural to us. The hearer's attention is the 
 " sooner gained by tliis means, his entertainment 
 " quickened, and his admiration of the performer's 
 art excited. Men are ambitious of pleasing, 
 and ingenious in refiningupon what they observe 
 will please. So that musical cadences and har- 
 monious sounds, which nature dictated, are 
 *' farther softiened and improved by art, till Poetry 
 " become as ravishing to the ear, as the images, 
 " it presents, are to the imagination. In process 
 of time, what was at first the extemporaneous 
 production of genius or passion, under the con- 
 " duct of a natural ear, becomes the labour of 
 the closet, and is conducted by artificial rules; 
 yet still, with a secret reference to the sense of 
 
 ** hearing, 
 
 it 
 
 t( 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 iC 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 ii 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 • Dr. Hurd's Horace, vol. ii. 
 
 NOTES. 291 
 
 ^' bearing, and to that acceptation which melo- 
 *' dious sounds meet with in the recital of ex- 
 ** pressive words." 
 
 NOTE 27. 
 P. 110. Margites. 
 
 The scraps that have been preserved of this 
 Poem, the Dunciad of Homer, are so few, and 
 so short, that it may be worth while, for the con- 
 venience of the reader, to collect them. — 
 
 — a line as likely to be found in one kind of Poem 
 as in another, and which affords about as good a 
 sample of this Poem, as a brick does of the build- 
 ing from which it was taken. — The other fragments 
 are a little more interesting, as they give some 
 idea of the hero of the Poem. 
 
 TONA VT au (ncuTTTrj^oe, Qeoi Qbcocv, ir aoormoc. 
 Out ocXXcag ri (ro(pov* ^uorrig S' '^fjcoc^onxve Ttypi^^- 
 YioXX TiTTis-otTO B^yoc, rcoizug S^ '^Trtg-uro 'Ttocvtu'', 
 
 — This last stroke of character is not peculiarly 
 antique. The line is of easy application in all 
 ^^^ times. 
 
 • Cited by the Scholiast on die Jves of Aristophanes, 
 v. 914. ^ 
 
 *» Preserved by Aristode, Ef/i. lib. vi. cap 7, as far as 
 the word ao(pQv. The remainder of the second line is in 
 
 ■ * 
 
 Clem. Alexand, Strom, lib, i. 
 
 ' Plato, Alcib, Secund, p. 147. Ed, Serrani, 
 
 U 2 
 
^^ NOTES, 
 
 tiniies. It is not so easy to reconcile it ti-ith some 
 olher accounts, which seem to make Margites 
 a downright idiot ; such as, his not being able 
 to number beyond five ; his abstaining from all 
 intercourse with his bride, lest she should com- 
 plain of him to her mother, &c'*.— One cannot 
 well conceive, how such a man should, as Homer 
 expressly says, " know how to do many things \' 
 , even though he did them ever so ill. But a tale, 
 still more ridiculous, is told of this curious per- 
 sonage by Eustath'im*. 
 
 NOTE 28. 
 
 P. 110. His Margites bears the same 
 
 AXALOGY TO CoMEDY, AS HIS IlIAD AND 
 
 Odyssey to TuAgedy. 
 
 Whenever Aristotle speaks of Comedy, we 
 must remember, that he speaks of the Old, or 
 Middle Comedy, which was no other than what 
 we should call farce, and to which his definition 
 of Comedy was adapted : ^,/Ei„Tic ^auAoT£^a,i, ; 
 that is, as he explains himself, " an imitation of 
 " RIDICULOUS characters*." — This remark is 
 tiecessary to explain what is here said of the 
 
 Margites. 
 
 * Suidas, Art. Margites. 
 
 * Emtath, ad Horn. Odyss. K.— Sec also Kuster's 
 note on Suidas, Art, Margites. 
 
 * Chap. V. Tramlatlon, \ 8. Part I. And see Dr. 
 Kurd's D/w. on the Provinces of the Drama, ch.ii. p. 201. 
 
 NOTES. ^9i 
 
 Alargites. A Poem, which, as far as we can 
 form any ide^ of it, celebrated the blunders and 
 absurdities of an idiot, cannot well be conceived 
 to have been analogous to any tiling, that would 
 now be denominated a Comedy. It seems to 
 verge to the very bottom of the dramatic scale ; 
 *' jusq' au bouffon ; celui-ci sera lextr^me de 
 ** la Comedie, le plus bas degre de I'echelle, 
 " oppos6 au terrible qui est h, I'autre bout''.*' 
 The Bourgeois GentUhomme of Moliere is cer^ 
 tainly farce, however excellent in its way. But 
 Mons. Jourdain is a very Ulysses, compared 
 
 with Margites. 
 
 \ 
 
 NOTE 29. 
 
 P. 111. By such SUCCESSIVE IMPROVE- 
 MENTS AS WERE MOST OBVIOUS. 
 
 'Ovov tyi¥iTo ^uififov auTDj — literally, "^0 much 
 of it as was manifest" — I doubt of the reading: 
 but, taking it as it stands, I have given what ap- 
 pears to me to offer itself as the most natural and 
 simple meaning of the expression, if not the only 
 one that it will reasonably bear. 
 
 ^ Fontenellc, Preface to his Comedies, vol.vii. ;>f hi 
 works. 
 
 V3 
 
194 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 30. 
 
 P. 111-12. jEschylus --- 
 
 THE CHOKAL PART. 
 
 - - ABRIDGED 
 
 The words are, TA m x^^^- Aristotle would 
 
 hardly have expressed himself thus, had he meant, 
 
 as Madius, Bayle, and others, have understood, a 
 
 retrenchment in the number of choral performers, 
 
 TA T8 ;^o^8, the choral part, is opposed to TA aVo 
 
 ffKnurig, tiie dialogue, Prob, xv. of Sect. 19. It is 
 
 singular, that Stanley should misunderstand this 
 
 passage; and still more singular, that he should 
 
 cite Philostratus, who is directly airainst him : for 
 
 his words are, ir\jyis-tiXi rag x^P^^y AnOTAAHN 
 
 ONTA2 : *•' he contracted the chorusses, which 
 
 ''* ivere immoderately long^^ 
 
 ' This is confirmed by one of Aristotle's Prob- 
 
 kms, referred to by Victorius'. The Problem is 
 
 (meaning, I suppose, more Musicians than the 
 dramatic Poets of his own time :) The answer is, 
 
 II, ^ix TO TroXXarrXcccKX fjyat tote to, fxiXn iv rong twv 
 
 f^iT^u3v T^ayw(^iaK ;— I believe the passage may be 
 rectified by transposition— ttoaa. umi tote rx ^iXn 
 ru^y fxiT^uiv IV r. T. Perhaps, too, we shonld read, 
 T«; TPIMETPXIN. But, even taking it as it stands, 
 it may sufficiently answer oui* purpose, as it shews 
 _ ' clearly 
 
 ' Stanl. in vit. ^schyli, Ed.Famv, p. 706. 
 J Sect. 19. Froif. xxxi. 
 
 NOTES. 295 
 
 clearly enough how much the Lyric parts of 
 Tragedy, before the time of JEschylus, wanted 
 contraction. 
 
 The prolixity of the Tragic Chorus, we know, 
 was sometimes trying to the patience of an Athe- 
 nian audience. This is pleasantly glanced at by 
 Aristophaiies in his O^yi^ig : where the Chorus of 
 birds, descanting on the convenience of wings, 
 tell the spectators, that if thei/ had wings, when- 
 ever, in tlie Theatre, they ^' found themselves 
 " hungyy, and were tired with the Tragic Chorus^ 
 " they might fly home and eat their dinners, and 
 " fly back again, when the Chorus was over." 
 
 XOP. 
 
 AVTIX, Vf4,Ci)V TCOV 6iOLTU)V U Tig VlV VTrOTTTSoO^, 
 
 K1TU9 'TfCiVcoVy Toig x^(^^^^ "^^^ Tootymcov iJ^Sero, 
 
 KoLT ai/, 6[jL7rXvi(r6eig, 6(f> ^jtta^ av6ig au kutbtttuto, . 
 
 V. 786. 
 
 NOTE 31. 
 P. 112. And made the dialogue the 
 
 PRINCIPAL PART OF TraGEDY. 
 
 Victorius, and others, have supposed Aristotle to 
 mean the Prologue, But it seems to be a sufficient 
 objection to this sense, that no example has been 
 
 u 4 produced 
 
 iff -R I 
 
^9^ NOTES. 
 
 produced of the word ^/,a,T«y«y,riic, used as 
 merely synonymous to irpu^ri^; as signifying Jirs^ 
 only, not principal. Nor is it easy to discover any 
 reason, why Aristotle should have recourse here 
 to an unusual and ambiguous expression, when, 
 presently after, in speaking of the improvements 
 of Comedy [cap. v.], he makes use of the proper 
 established term, w^oXc^i^, There seem to be no 
 words in the Greek language, of which the sense 
 is more clearly fixed, than that of ^/»coT«y«>,r»jf— 
 */»a,raya,wr«v. They occur fi-equently, and always, 
 as far as I know, in the same sense, of principal— 
 primas agere, &c. To this sense, therefore, I 
 thought it necessary to adhere. But I confess 
 I cannot be satisfied with either of the explanations 
 which have been given of the word AOTOZ. It 
 appears strange to say, that iEschylus/r^/ intro- 
 duced two actors, and then to add, as a distinct 
 improvement, that he ^ho first introduced a prin- 
 cipal part or character .-—unless we are to un- 
 derstand, what seems not very probable, that the 
 two actors eveti of iEschylus himself were, at 
 first, personages of equal dignity and importance 
 in the drama, like tlie two kings of Brentford in 
 the Rehearsal ; and that, afterwards, he was the 
 first Who corrected this error, (in which he would 
 probably have been followed by other Poets,) and 
 reduced the drama to unity of action by a proper 
 subordination of characters. But, admitting Uiis 
 sense to be without difficulty, the expression of it, 
 ^ I think, 
 
 NOTES. ^97 
 
 I think, is not Aoyoc, for ?Lpart in the drama, 
 rdle, personnage, (as Dacier,) character , &c 
 ' seems harsh, and unusual. At least, I know no 
 example of it. 
 
 The difficulties which attend both the expression 
 and the sense, in each of tliese interpretations, 
 have almost convinced me, that the very con- 
 struction of the words has been mistaken ; and 
 that the meaning is, *' he made the discourse, or 
 " dialogue, the principal part of Tragedy." This 
 is well connected with what precedes, and agree- 
 able to the known history of the Tragic drama, in 
 which, originally, the Chorus was the essential^ 
 and the Episodes, or dramatic part, only the 
 accessory. But iEschylus ** abridged the Chorus^ 
 " and made the Episodic part the principal:* 
 Aoy®*, here, may well be understood to mean 
 what Aristotle elsewhere calls As^k ; the speaking, 
 or recitative, part of Tragedy, whether delivered 
 by one or more actors, as opposed to the fiiXn, or 
 Lyric part *. napc<r)t£ua(r£, reddidit, effecit, &c. as, 
 (to take the first instance of this common use of 
 that verb which the Lexicons offer me) — tuVf- 
 
 — " magis pios et temper atos reddidit^.'" And 
 thus Aristotle himself, cap.xix, orav if Ixsetva, i 
 
 iiivx $11^ wxpixs-xivxCety. l e. to T2iake thino^s 
 
 piteous, 
 • See NOTE 90. 
 Xenophon. So Isocrates, Tia^aaiuuaU ff'tauTOV 5rX£P- 
 wjtTttv ftfv ^uvafASvov, &c Jd Ddtnomcum. 
 
 4 
 
*?•• w o T E ar. 
 
 piteous, terrible, &c. as in Goulston s version ; 
 and that of the accurate Piccolomini :— " Quando 
 '' occorre d'havere kfarparere le cose, d mise^ 
 " rabili, d atrocir kc.—li the use of zrf^rocy,,. 
 t»ruf as an adjective be an objection, it is one 
 to which the other explanations are equally liable. 
 On the whole, I have not scrupled to prefer 
 Ibis sense in my version ^ 
 
 NOTE 32. 
 
 P. 112. Sophocles added the de- 
 coration OF PAINTED SCEXERY. 
 
 To adjust exactly the rival claims of iEschylus 
 and Sophocles with respect to the Oi|/*f, or deco- 
 ration, of the Tragic stage, would be a desperate 
 undertaking. Some accounts are so liberal to 
 -flischylus, as scarce to leave his successors any 
 room for farther improvements. They give him 
 " paintings, machinery, altars, tombs, trumpets, 
 " ghosts, and furies : ''—to which others add a 
 very singular species of Tragic improvement, the 
 '' exhibition of drunken mnr — rr^v <r. crxn^n. 
 
 iJ£0(r/Afi(r£, xa» ry\v ij^iy rm huixivc^y xocTiirXn^i rn 
 Xa^T/JornTi— rPA^AIS xa* iMnx^mi^y P<^fJLOi; n x«i 
 T^^oiff, <r«A7r*yfii., iXxot?, IpmviTi. — MS. life of 
 
 jEschylus, quoted by Stanley, In vitmn JEschyli, 
 
 . and 
 
 • Since this note was written, the same explanation 
 has been given, and well supported, in the Camk edit, 
 of 1785. PrarAp.xxxi. 5ic. 
 
 NOTES. J95 
 
 and by Tahric, Bib, Gr. lib, \\, cap, xvi. Sect, 2. — 
 
 And AtheticBus says, ^t/jwt^ Uny^ -Trapn* 
 
 yotyt my rm ME0TONTriN O^IN I; rpccy^^Sixv. 
 
 p. 428.— He adds an example. In the Tragedy 
 called Ka^ftpot, he introduced *' Jason and his 
 retinue dru?ik!" 
 
 The passage given by Dacier from Vitruvius 
 is very general ; it says only, '' scena)n fccit\^ 
 This may, or may not, include painting ; which, 
 indeed, rather seems to be implied, in what fol- 
 lows, about the improvements of Democritus and 
 Anaxagoras, where the ** imagines aedificiorum 
 ^' in scenarum picturis " are mentioned. But all 
 this is far outweighed by the testimony of Aristotle, 
 who here explicitly attributes the introduction of 
 painted scenery to Sophocles. 
 
 NOTE 33. 
 P. 112. It was late before Tragedy- -- 
 
 ATTAINED ITS PROPER DIGNITY. 
 
 • — OiJ/E a7rE(TS[Amin : — and to *^ late,'' we might 
 add, imperfectly. For, what Horace says of the 
 Roman Tragedy, is, in so^ne measure, though per- 
 haps not equally, applicable to the Greek : 
 
 in longum tamen aevum ' 
 
 Manserunt, hodieque manent vestigia ruris. 
 
 Ep, ad Aug, V, 1 60. 
 
 Prejudice 
 
 * Primus Agatharcus Athenls, ^schylo docentc 
 Tragcediam, scenam fecir. Yipruv. Pnef in lib, vii. 
 
 L 
 
 >f,\ 
 
yso NOTES. 
 
 Prejudice aside, it cannot surely be said, that th« 
 Greek Tragedy, in the hands, at least, of ^Eschylus, 
 Sophocles, or Euripides, ever attained its proper 
 dignity, I do not speak of viodern dignity ; of 
 that uniform, unremitting strut of pomp and so- 
 lemnity, which is now required in Tragedy, This 
 was equally unknown to the manners, and to the 
 Poetry, of the antients. I speak only of such a 
 degree of dignity as excludes, not simplicity, but 
 meanness— the familiar, the jocose, the coarse, the 
 comic. Now it cannot, I think, be said, with any 
 truth, that these are thoroughly excluded in any 
 of the Greek Tragedies that are extant : in some 
 of them they are admitted to a very considerable 
 degree. In particular, something of this sort — 
 of what the French call mesquin—'is almost con- 
 stantly to be found m the short dialogue of the 
 Greek Tragedies ; in that part, I mean, which the 
 eye, when we turn over any Tragedy, easily dis- 
 tinguishes from the rest, by its being carried on in 
 a regular alternation of single verses*. In this 
 " close fighting" of the dialogue, as Dryden calls 
 it^ which seems to have retained something of the 
 
 spirit 
 
 ^»~— «— i^^^^— ^.^ »^_^^______^^ . 
 
 • A sensible writer has justly remarked the ill effect 
 of this symmetrical sort of conversation upon the il- 
 lusion of the drama. [Letters on various subjects, by 
 Mr. Jackson of Exeter, vol. ii. p. 109.] The English 
 reader may see an example of it in Milton's Comus^ 
 V.277 — 290. 
 
 J Essay on Dram. Poesy. 
 
 NOTES. s^ 
 
 spirit of the old satyric diverbia, where, in tbeori^n 
 of the Greek, as well as of the Roman drama, 
 
 Versibus alternis opprohria rusticafundu7it^ 
 
 HoR. 
 
 — in this part of the dialogue, we generally find, 
 mixed indeed frequently with fine strokes of 
 nature and feeling, somewhat more than what 
 Brumoy calls " un petit vernis de familiarite*";* 
 especially when these scenes are, as they often 
 are, scenes of altercation and angry repartee. In 
 the Ip/rigcnia in Aulidc of Euripides, Menelaus, 
 in the struggle with the old messenger for tlie 
 letter, threatens to break his head with his sceptre^ 
 
 V. 311. 
 Fairly rendered by Mr. Potter's verse — 
 
 " Soon shall thy head this sceptre stain with 
 " blood." 
 
 Unfairly dignified by Brumoy's prose — 
 
 " Prends garde qu une nio?^t prompte ne punisse 
 ** ton audace." 
 
 Even Sophocles, who gave the Tragic tone, in 
 general, its proper pitch, between the oyx<^ of 
 iEschylus, and the la-^iforyi^ of Euripides'*, is by 
 
 no 
 
 ' Theatre des Grecs, tome iii. p. 205. 
 ^ Aristophanes, in T/ii Frogs, makes Euripides boast 
 to iEschylus - - - 
 
 — tt»5 iraf fXajSov tw Tf^ynv itcx^a an to Tr^arov tvQuq 
 Oi^Ho-at i/JTO xefMTrcuTfJiaruv xai ^rj/xaruv iTraxOuv 
 IZXNANA /ttfv TT^uTirov avrjv, hm to $a^^ a^eiMv, 
 
 v. 490. 
 
 «■ s« 
 
 «'^ 
 
NOTES. 
 
 * 
 
 BO means free from some mixtCire of this alloj/ in 
 the language of his short dialogue. For example: 
 in the scene between Ulysses and Neoptolemus 
 in the Philoctetes, [v. 1250.] when Neoptolemus 
 declares his resolution of restoring to Philoctetes 
 his bow and arrows, at which Ulysses expresses 
 his surprise by a repetition of the question, T» 
 fw; — Tiy fl^»ixaf Xoyoy; — Neoptolemus replies, 
 ** Would you have me tell you the name thing two 
 •' or three times over?'' 
 
 V. 1267. 
 
 In another scene of this Poet, between Teucer 
 and Menelaus, after a long altercation about the 
 interment of Ajax, Menelaus says — 
 
 —to which Teucer replies — 
 
 In plain English, but no plainer than the G reek— 
 " M. One thing I'll tell you— he shall not be 
 
 , ^^ " buried. 
 
 • The reader may also see something of the same cast 
 in the scene between Oedipus and Creon, OcyI. Tyr, 
 V. 55<^> ^c. And in that between Oedipus and the two 
 Shepherds, v. 1 1 62, &c. — These scenes of snarling 
 altercation, I suppose, were what gave occasion to the 
 ridiculous idea of some Comic Poet, that " Sophocki 
 " seemed to have been assisted, in writing his Tragedies, by 
 *^ a mastiff' dog,** 
 
 ILvw Tij iWt (TVfMTroieiv M^aottu©-. Diog, Laert. IV. 2o, 
 ' JJax, V. 159, 160. 
 
 NOTES. 303 
 
 " buried. T. And I'll tell another thing — he 
 *' shall be buried," — Certainly this approaches 
 very nearly to the language of a contest between 
 two washerwomen. 
 
 These may be reckoned among the passages, in 
 which the spirit of Sophocles, according to the 
 observation of a great critic, c^ivwroii dxoyQ)^ 
 
 iroXXftXK, xai vittth ccTV^ira^roc. [Longin, Sect, 33.] 
 
 .In tlie Antigone there is a scene of altercation 
 between Creon, Ismene, and Arftigone, in which, 
 when Ismene, pleading for her sister, asks Creon 
 whether he will put her to death, who was to 
 Ix^come the wife of his son, his answer is — • 
 
 APnilMOI ya^ %aTffwy elcriv ^YAI^ 
 
 The prejudiced admirers of the antients are 
 very angry at the least insinuation that they had 
 any idea of our barbarous Tragi-Comedy. But 
 after all, it cannot be dissembled, that, if they 
 had not the name, they had the thing, or some- 
 thing very nearly approaching to it. If that be 
 Tragi-Comedy, w hich is partly serious and partly 
 comical, I do not know why we should scruple to 
 say, that the Alcestis of Euripides is, to all intents 
 and purposes, a Tragi-Comedy. I have not the 
 least doubt, that it had upon an Athenian audi- 
 ence the proper effect of Tragi-Comedy ; that is, 
 
 that 
 
 * V. 576. This is not much more delicate than the 
 answer of one of the Egyptian fugitives 10 King Psam- 
 meticus.— //ifr^^. Eutcrp, p,6^, cd. H, Steph, 
 
 / 
 
NOTES. 
 
 that in some places it made thtm cry, and in others, 
 laugh. And the best thing we have to hope, for 
 the credit of Euripides, is, that he intended to 
 produce this effect. For though he may be an 
 tinskilfui Poet, who purposes to write a Tragi- 
 comedy, he surely is a more unskilful Poet, who 
 writes one without knowing it. 
 
 The learned reader will understand me to allude 
 particularly to the scene, in which the domestic 
 describes the behaviour of Hercules ; and to 
 the speech of Hercules himself, which follows. 
 Notliing can well be of a more comic cast than 
 the servant's complaint \ He describes tlie hero 
 as the most greedy * and ill-mannered guest he had 
 ever attended, under his master's hospitable roof; 
 calling about him, eating, drinking, and singings 
 in a room by himself ^ while the master and all the 
 family were in the height of funereal lamentation. 
 
 He 
 
 Jv 
 
 ' Jlcestis, V. 757, &c. 
 
 * Hercules was renowned for his oJ^^ayw. The 
 following extravagant description of his eating, pre- 
 served by Athenaeus from the Busiris, a satyric dranoa 
 of Epicharmus, affords a curious specimen of the 
 fatyric fun, 
 
 n^wTov /Kfv, ouK hQavT* /5Vif vtv, aTToQavoig, 
 
 Zi^"" ^f.T«5 pin(r<ri, KINEI A* 'OTATA 
 
 Tuv Tirpavo^m k^ bttov - - - Athcn» lih^x, init. 
 
 N^ O T E S. 305 
 
 He was not contented with such refreshments as 
 had been set before him ; 
 
 Tec TTOOO'TVXOVTU ^tVlCC 
 
 AXX' bI Ti fJLJi (pi^oifjLiv, XITPTNEN (pB^eiv, 
 Then he drinks — 
 
 OiVif' 
 
 — crowns himself with myrtle, and sings, AMOTZ* 
 TAAKTXIN — and all this, alone. " Cette des- 
 " cription," says Fontenelle, *^ est si burlesque, 
 " qu'on diroit d'un crocheteur qui e«t de con- 
 " frairie*." A censure somewhat justified by 
 Euripides himself, who makes the servant take 
 Hercules for a thief: 
 
 — TTocva^yov KAIirTA xui AHIITHN rtva. 
 
 The speech of Hercules, ^iXo^o^avr^ h ^£9if, 
 as the scholiast observes, (v. 776,) " philosophiz- 
 " ing in his cups," is still more curious It is, 
 indeed, full of the ^Xof o^s, and completely jus- 
 tifies the attendant's description. Nothing can 
 be more jolly. It is in the true spirit of a 
 modem drinki^ig song ; recommending it to the 
 servant to uncloud his brow, enjoy the present 
 hour, think nothing of the morrow, and drown 
 his cares in love and xvifie: 
 
 'OTTOS 
 
 * CEuvres de Font, vol.ix. p. 41 5. 
 VOL. I, X 
 
3o6 NOTE S. 
 
 'OTTO£ ^-—Ti ctfAvov itMt 'Ttifp^ovrtuJ^ iSXis'trf $ 
 
 OU XP^ CXV^^CttTTOV, X. T. aX. 
 
 AETP EA8 , oTTcac ^v koli (ro(puTifO* yivy. 
 Ta Svrjra ir^ay^Mbr olSa^ ^v l^st (puo'tvi 
 OIMAI pgy 'or nOGEN rAPj— aXX' ax»g fin. 
 B^OToig oLTToun KarGocvBtv ofBtXsrou, 
 K* ifx ff < fi»^&;v J^*f l^iTTis-otrai 
 Tfiv otv^io¥ fiiXXi5(rocv el (iic»i<riroci. 
 
 Eyp^tvt (TMUTov ' niNE ! — rov kci9 ^fieoocv 
 Biov Xoyt^jt (Tov, rot, V aAXac, Triq ru^iy^. 
 TifJM C€ Kxi Trjv TrXBKTTOv ^^t^v 6ecav 
 KTnPIN l3^oT0i<nv — k. t. X, v, 783—812. 
 
 If any man can read this, without supposing it 
 to have set tlie audience in a roai\ I certainly 
 cannot demonstrate that he is mistaken. I can 
 only say, that I think he must be a very grave 
 man himselt^ and must forget that the Athenians 
 were not a very grave people. The zeal of Pere 
 Brumoy in defending tliis Tragedy, betrays him 
 into a little indiscretion. He says, '' tout cela 
 " i fait penser \ quelques critiques modernes 
 " que cette piece etoit une Tragicomedie ; 
 " chimere inconnu aux anciens. Cette piece 
 *' tst da gout dts autres Tragedies antiques\"' 
 
 Indeed 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 307 
 
 * '^ You, fellow ! "—Mr. Potter's translation. 
 ' Tome iii. p, to^. 
 
 Indeed they, who call this play a Tragi-Comedy, 
 give it rather a favourable name; for, in the 
 scenes alluded to, it is, in fact, of a lower species ^ 
 than our Tragi-Comedy : it is, rather, 3e/r- 
 lesque Tragedy ; what Demetrius calls r^ayufiA 
 ▼a»f ««•«". Much of the comic cast prevails in 
 other scenes ; though mixed with those genuine 
 strokes of simple and universal nature, which 
 abound in this Poet, and which I should be 
 sorry to exchange for that monotonous and 
 unaffecting level of Tragic dignity, which never 
 falls, and never rises. 
 
 I will only mention one more instance of this 
 Tragi-comic mixture, and that from Sophocles. 
 The dialogue between Minerva and Ulysses, in 
 the first scene of the ^Ijcw, from v. 74 to 88, is 
 perfectly ludicrous. The cowardice of Ulysses 
 is almost as comic as the cowardice of Falstaff. 
 In spite of the presence of Minerva, and her 
 previous assurance, tliat she would effectually 
 ^uard him from all danger by rendering him 
 invisible, when she calls Ajax out, Ulysses, in the 
 utmost trepidation, exclaims — 
 
 T* S^ug, AQuvui fifjSxficog <r(p* s^eo iiotXti^. 
 
 Minerva 
 
 " ITefi Ef|». § 170. — ^"O h yeX6)^j says this writer, 
 tX^f^ TforyfljS/aj. Neither Euripides, nor Sophocles, 
 seem to have held this as an inviolable maxim. 
 
 ' V. 74. — Anglic e, ** ff/iat arc you about, Mintrva f — 
 by no means call him out." 
 
 X 2 
 
 V 
 
 "'I 
 
3o8 NOTES. 
 
 Minerva answers : — 
 
 But Ulysses cannot conquer his fears : — 
 
 MH, nPOZ 0EHN — aXX* li/Sov d^KHTca usvcov^. 
 
 And in this tone the conversation continues ; till, 
 upon Minerva's repeating her promise tliat Ajax 
 should not see him, he consents to stay; but in 
 a line of most comical recluctance, and witli 
 an aside, that is in the true spirit of Sancho 
 Panf a : — 
 
 Mevo^fJL' iif' HGEAON A* AN EKTOS XIN 
 TTXEIN^ 
 
 No unprejudiced person, I tliink, can read tins 
 scene without being convinced, not only, that it 
 must have actually produced, but that it must 
 have b^en intended to produce, the effect of 
 Comedy. 
 
 It appears, indeed, to me, that we may plainly 
 trace in the Greek Tragedy, with all its improve- 
 ments, and all its beauties, pretty strong marks 
 of its popular and Tragi-comic origin. For, 
 T^«yw^*a, we are told, was, originally, the only 
 
 dramatic 
 
 — ■ , 
 
 ® *' Will you not be silent, and lay aside your fears!" 
 ^ " Pon't call him out, for heaven's sake : — let him 
 stay within." 
 
 * '' Pll stay— fflj/W<p; but I wish I was not herer^ 
 " J'avoue," says Brumoy, " que ce trait n'est pas a la 
 '' louaiige d'Ulysse, ni de Sophocle." {Jom iii.) 
 
 NOTES. 309 
 
 dramatic appellation'; and when, afterwards, the 
 ludicrous was separated from the serious, and 
 distinguished by its appropriated name of Comedi/, 
 the separation seems to have been imperfectly 
 made, and Tragedy, distinctively so called, seems 
 still to have retained a tincture of its oricrinal 
 merriment. Nor will this appear strange, if we 
 consider the popular nature of tlie Greek spec- 
 tacles. The people, it is probable, would still re- 
 quire, even in the midst of their Tragic emotion, 
 a little dash of their old satj'ric Juyi, and Poets 
 were obliged to comply, in some degree, with 
 their taste'. 
 
 When 
 
 ' Casauh. De Sat. Poesi, p. 2X, 22. — Con?tat sane 
 primis tcmporibus ignoratum fuisse discrimen inter 
 
 Tragoediam et Comoediam : nam et T^iryv^ia et 
 
 Tfa7«?ia, primituis nomen fuit commune, quod postea 
 ^ito-'/raa-Qv, ut ait Aristoteles, et Veteres critici testantur. 
 Idem ; [sc. Athenaus] r^ayu^ia^ ro Tra^aicf^ wy ovofjuz tioivov 
 MM v^of Tirv Kw^JiaV vrt^ov fc, to fjuv hoivov ovofia hxev h 
 
 • *' Scenical representations, being then intended, not, 
 " as in our days, for the entertainment of the better sort, 
 ** but on certain great solemnities, indifferently for the 
 «* diversion of the whole citv, it became necessary to 
 " consult the taste of the multitude, as well as of those, 
 *« quibus est equus, ct pater, et res,** Notes on Hort vol, i. 
 p. 93. See also p. 195. — Plato calls Tragedy, rnj 
 wmmwi AHMOTEPnEITATON ti km if^vxayuypunaroy. 
 Min, vol, ii. p*32l« Sfrr, 
 
 X3 
 
I 
 
 310 NOTES. 
 
 When we speak of the Greek Tragedies as 
 correct and perfect models, we seem merely to 
 conform to the established language of preju- 
 dice, and content ourselves \\h\^ echoing, without 
 reflection or examination, what has been said 
 before us. Lord Shuftsbury, for example, talks 
 of Tragedy's being " raised to its height by 
 " Sophocles and Euripides, and no rootn/eftfor 
 ** further excdknce or emulation^ Advice to 
 an Author, Part II. Sect. 2. where the reader 
 may also see his unwarrantable and absurd in- 
 terpretation of Ariiitotle s phrase, iVx? Tuir lauTnc 
 fuo-iF, by which he makes the pliilosopher, 
 '* declare, that whatever idea might be formed of 
 " ttie utmost perfection of tlie kind of Poem, it 
 '' could^ in practice, rise no higher than it had 
 *' been already carried in his time.'' I should be 
 sorry to be ranked in the class of those critics, 
 who prefer that Poetry which has the fewest 
 faults, to that which has the greatest beauties'. 
 I mean only to combat that conventional and 
 
 hearsay 
 
 " . I- I . 
 
 h evwtf ^ittf4a^fA£vcv, ri, to ffufjLfAi^^ov fxiv iv t«hj Horo^^fAoa-iVy 
 kytsi Ji Travrn nai a^ia^nurov. Long. Sect. ^^, The 
 trytz; Tromi hcu si^kaTrrurov is, surely, by no means th* 
 character of the Greek Tragedians. They who think 
 it worth searcliing for must lay asi.le Sophocles, and 
 Shakspeare. In the French Theatre, perhaps, they 
 may find it ; but they must be content, I fear, to take 
 with it, the (TVfjLfjLET^ov h lotg wnrrnr^jiiaTr 
 4 
 
 NOTES. 311 
 
 hearsay kind of pmise, which has so often held 
 out tlie Tragedies of the Greek Poets, as elaborate 
 and perfect models, such as had received the last 
 polish of art and meditation. The true praise of 
 -^chylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, is, (in hind 
 at least, though not in degree,) the praise of 
 Shakspeare; that of strong, but irregular, unequal, 
 and hasty genius. Every thing, which this genius 
 and the feeling of the moment could produce, in 
 an early period of the art, before time, and long 
 experience, and criticism, had cultivated and re- 
 fined it, these writers possess in great abundance: 
 what meditation, and " the labour and delay of 
 " the fde' only can effect, they too often w ant. 
 Of Shakspeare, however, compared with tlie 
 Greek Poets, it may justly, I think, be pro- 
 nounced, that he has much more, both of this 
 want, and of that abundance. 
 
 NOTE 34. 
 
 P. 112. Originally, the Trochaic 
 
 TETRAMETER WAS MADE USE OF, &C. 
 
 As the Trochaic measure was still occasion- 
 ally admitted, even in the improved and serious 
 Greek Tragedy, and, in particular, occurs very 
 frequently in the Tragedies of Euripides, it is 
 natural to suppose, that a still more frequent use 
 of it would be one of the characteristics of the 
 satyric drama, which seems to have been only a 
 
 X 4 V sort 
 
312 NOTES. 
 
 «ort of revival, in an improved and regular form, 
 of the old Trochaic Tragedy * with its cliorus of 
 dancing satyrs \ It seems therefore ^somewhat 
 remarkable, though I have not seen it noticed, 
 that m the only satyric drama extant, the 
 Cyclops, and that written by Euripides, who 
 has made so much use of this measure in his 
 Tragedies, not a single Trochaic tetrameter is 
 to be found. 
 
 NOTE 35. 
 P. 113. The Iambic is, of all metres^ 
 
 THE MOST COLLOQUIAL, &C. 
 
 Compare Rhet. lib. iii. cap. i. and cap. viii. 
 Ed. Duval. And Demtt. Jli^i 'Ej^. Sect. 43. 
 
 xoTE ;^6. 
 
 P. 113- - - - SELDOM INTO HEXAMETER, 
 AND ONLY WHEN WE DEPART FROM THE 
 USUAL MELODY OF SPEECH. 
 
 It has been thought strange, that Aristotle 
 should introduce here the mention oiheMmeters, 
 when he has been speaking only oi Trochaic and 
 Iambic verse, and is accounting for the adoption 
 
 of 
 
 * Aristotle's expression on this subject elsewhere, is, 
 
 TO la^siov (AiTi^n(rav, &cc. Rhet. iii. j. ' 
 ^ See Casaub. dc Sai, Pm. Ub. I c. 3. 
 
 NOTES. 313 
 
 of the latter, in preference, not to the hexameter^ 
 but to the Trochaic tetrameter: and it has, 
 therefore, been doubted, whether we should not 
 read rtr^uiAtrfot*, . But the established reading, 
 I believe, is right. The Trochaic tetrameter, 
 Aristotle has, both here, and in his Rhetoric, cha- 
 racterized as (TotTu^ixok — r^o^i^op — i^^fifiKUTiooy — 
 and even Ko^iocx^xton^ov^. He did not, I appre- 
 hend, consider it as being, in any degree, Xtxrixou. 
 It was therefore entirely out of the question, 
 when a metre proper for the general dialogue of 
 Tragedy was to be sought for : but the hexameter 
 was not so; and it might, without absurdity, be 
 asked by an objector, as Castelvetro and Picco- 
 lomini have observed, why that species of verse 
 was not adopted ; especially as the Tragic Poets 
 were the successors of the Epic, or Heroic*", 
 and Homer, according to Plato, was ** the first 
 " of Tragic Poets^. As its character was grave 
 and stately, it might seem, on that account, well 
 adapted to Tragedy, where, indeed, we actually 
 find it occasionally introduced. But Aristotle 
 objects to it as less proper, because, though 
 vifAyov, it was at the same time, » Awxixoi'*. He 
 
 * allows, 
 
 • Ed, Ox. 1780, p. 277. 
 
 ^ See above, note 8. and*. 
 
 * — ant Tuv eTToiVy T^ayuMi^aa^taXti. ch, iv# TransU 
 Tart I Sect 6. 
 
 * — 9rpTov Twy Tfoyw^iwrowyy. — Repub. lib, x. p. 607. 
 
 * i^>^^/. iii. 8. 
 

 3M NOTES. 
 
 allows, however, that it was not so remote from 
 "the rh3/thm of common speech, but that it might 
 be casually produced, like the Iambic, though it 
 rarely happened ^ He even goes so far, as to 
 allow, in his concluding chapter, that Tragedy 
 " fnight adopt the Epic metreK''—All this seems 
 to afford sufficient support to the common reading. 
 The Jleroic and Iambic feet are, in the same 
 manner, considered together, Rhet. iii. 8. 
 
 By AixTixn a^/*ow<», Aristotle means what Aris- 
 loxenus calls MEAOX Xeyuht^. We must not 
 suppose him to use the word «^/xovi« here, in that 
 lax and general sense, in which we commonly 
 
 apply 
 
 ' Sec Qjifttil. lib, ix. ch. 4.-~The most singular in- 
 stance of involuntary versification that I ever met with, 
 is to be found, where no one would expect to find such 
 a thing,— in Dr. Smith's System of Optics. The 47th 
 Sect, of ch/ii. book i, begins thus : 
 
 '• When parallel rays 
 
 ** Come contrary ways 
 
 •' And fall upon opposite sides'* 
 
 If, as QuintiJian says, *' Versum in orationc £cri, 
 '^ multo foeJissimum est, totum ; sicut etiam in farte, dc* 
 ** forme" — what would he have said to half an Ana- 
 paestic stanza, in rhyme, produced in a mathematical book, 
 the author of which, too, was supposed to have pos- 
 sessed an uncommon delicacy of ear? 
 
 « —TO) /xfTjw [sc. Tn? Iroxoiio,'] fieri XfH^^ib. Caf, ult. 
 
 ^ Harmon . lib. i. p, i8. Ed, Mcib. — A^tAonm^ here, is 
 ccjuivalent to ^^, as chap. i. iv. vi. tco. 
 
 NOTES. 31^ 
 
 apply it to the rhythm of speech, when we tallT 
 of the harmony of a verse or a period. He 
 speaks with his usual accuracy. Speech, as well 
 as Music, has its melody and its rhythm \ and 
 these, in speech animated by passion, are so 
 modified, as to approach, more or less percep- 
 tibly, to musical melody and rhythm*. And 
 what Aristotle here asserts, I think, is, tliat the 
 Greeks seldom, or never, departed so far from 
 tlie usual rhythm of speech, as to run into 
 hexameter verse, except when they were, led, 
 by the same cause, to depart equally from its 
 usual melodi/ or tones. 
 
 NOTE 37. 
 
 P. 113. The Episodes were multi- 
 plied. - - - 
 
 The mistakes, mto which some commentators 
 have been led by annexing to the term Eirfi0-o^i«y, 
 as applied by Aristotle to Tragedy, the modem" 
 and Epic idea of a digression, " hors-daeuvre, 
 intemietk, morceau d'attache^" have been well 
 pointed out by Le Bossu, Tr. du Poeme Ep. 
 liv. ii. ch. iv. v. vL^ But he appears to me to 
 have gone too far, and to have fellen into tlie 
 
 opposite 
 
 * Sec Diss. II. p. 77,78. and note «. 
 
 * £atteux*s note on this passage. 
 
 * The Abbe D*Airf>ignac had led the way, in hit 
 Pratique du Thc^tri^ liv. ni. c^. i. 
 
 
St* NOTES. 
 
 opposite error, hy extending the word even to 
 the most essential parts of the general action, to 
 which he will not allow the iTttfro^^a to be, in 
 any sense, added, unitedy &c.— but insists that they 
 constitute that action, " comme Ics membres 
 " sont la matiere des corps *." With this idea, 
 he had, indeed, some reason to call the word 
 ffTfir*/if», •• teruic trompcur ;" for, in this appli- 
 cation of it, all sight of its etyinological sense is 
 lost By all that I can gather from an attentive 
 comparison of all the passages in which Aristotle 
 uses the word, there appears to me no reason to 
 suppose, .that he any where meant to apply it 
 indiscriminately to all the incidents of a fable ; 
 and it is for this reason that I have no where 
 ventured to render it by the word inciditit, which 
 would have been too general \ Le Bossu's de- 
 finition is, — " Les Episodes sont les parties m- 
 " cessaires de faction etendues axec dcs circori'- 
 " stances vraiscmblables:'~Jhe deatli of Cato, 
 for example, in tlie Tragedy of Addison, answers 
 to this definition. But would Aristotle have 
 called that an Episode f I can scarce think it. 
 The most I can conceive is, that he might have 
 applied the term Xwutr^hoL to the particular cir- 
 cumstances 
 
 • Oiap, vi. 
 
 ^ For the incidents in general^ without distinction of 
 essential cr episodic, Aristotle's word seems to be^^*^^ 
 i^tfm of the action. So, <r/5. viii. and xxiv. 
 
 NOTES. 317 
 
 cumstances and detail of the action, which were 
 the additiofis of the Poet's fancy. I^ Bossu 
 mentions, as an instance, the escape of Orestes 
 by means of the ablution, in tlie Iphig. in Taur. 
 of Euripides ; which, he says, Aristotle calls an 
 Episode^. But, it is not tlie escape of Orestes, 
 {i (rorrnf i») that Aristotle so denominates ; this 
 was an essential circumstance, and is expressly 
 included by him in that general sketch of the 
 plot, into which the iViio-o^»« were afterwards to 
 be worked : and one of these Episodes was the 
 detail of the manner in which the escape wag 
 effected, /»« ruf xata^o-fwc — See note 143. 
 
 The word iwuo'oiiQif is, I think, used by Aristotle 
 only in two senses : 1 . The technical sense, in 
 which it is clearly defined to mean, all that part ^ 
 ory rather^ those partSy of a Tragedy ^ that art 
 included between entire choral odts\ 2. It is 
 evidently applied, in other passages, to the par- 
 ticular /?ar/^, subordinate actions, circumstances, 
 or incident s^ of tlie fable; but only, I think, to 
 such, as were not essential parts of the Poet's 
 plan or story, though they might be, and indeed 
 ought to be, closely connected with it :—such, as, 
 however important in the action, by contributing 
 to promote the catastrophe, were yet no way 
 necessitated by history, or popular tradition, or, in 
 
 subjects 
 
 «*■ 
 
 • C-^.xvii. — Transl. Part II. Sect. 17. 
 ' CK xii. — TramU Part II. SccU 10. 
 
3i8 N O T E f . 
 
 subjects of pure invention, by the Poet's general 
 and determined plan, but depended on the in- 
 vention or the choice of the Poet, who might, 
 without any alteration in the xaJoXx AoyO», as 
 Aristotle calls it, of his drama, have conducted 
 the action to its catastrophe by different means ^ 
 The word Ifrua-oiioy, then, appears to me 
 never to be used by Aristotle but in its proper 
 and derivative sense, of sometliing more or less 
 adventitious or accessory — something inserted, 
 superadded, i?Uroduced\ at pleasure, by the 
 Poet But the Epic Poem, from its extent of 
 plan, and the variety requisite to its purpose, 
 admits, and requires, subordinate actions of 
 greater length and slighter relation to the prin- 
 cipal action of the fable, than is consistent with 
 the shorter compass, closer unity *, and different 
 end, of Tragedy. As the Episodes of Epic 
 
 Poetry, 
 
 « This distinction is very well illustrated by Lc Bossu, 
 //v. ii. ch. V. *' Mais, s*il ctoit neccssaire," &c. — to the 
 end. But, in odier respects, this chapter is embrouille. 
 He confounds (as the reader will sec by his marginal 
 quotations) oiMiov, proper, natural^ connected, &c. with 
 AoiP — necessary f essential to the story, &c. He confounds 
 an Episode with an essential action episoded, i. c. extended 
 and filled up by episodic or invented circumstances. 
 
 * Ev li roi; rffthiMTiMOii [Aoroif], 3b tot >^(n EIIEirO- 
 AIOTN hrcuvoiiy biof ItroH^an^ ttoiw oust fotf Tiia EliSATEI. 
 Rhet, iii. cap. xvii. p. 605. Duval, 
 
 i — ^TToy fMa hTTotcmv fjufmnf n tw hro'jrouif. cK uU. 
 
 NOTES. 31^ 
 
 Poetry, therefore, had more distinctness, entire- 
 fiess, and projection from the subject, if I may so 
 express myself, than those of Tragedy, this, as it 
 was the most obvious, became in time almost the 
 only, application of the term ; till, at length, from 
 the frequent abuse of this Epic privilege of variety, 
 and the /*» T«/3aXA«i^ top axifovTa ^, scarce any other 
 idea was annexed to the word Episode, than that 
 of digressiony hors-d^a^uvre, something foreign to 
 tlie subject, or connected with it only by the 
 slightest thread. Hence, too, in modern languatre, 
 the word, I think, is applied only to entire actions 
 of this additional, or digressive kind ; not to the 
 minuter circumstances or incidents which form 
 the detail of an action. Thus, we call tiie whole 
 story of Dido, in the JEneid, an Episode ; but we 
 should not give that name to any of the incidents 
 by which the death of Turnus (an action essential 
 to the fable,) is circutnstantiated, though equally 
 introduced and supplied by the Poet, and there- 
 fore equally, in Aristotle's sense, i-n-ua-ohx. And 
 so much, as to his use of this term, in general. 
 M'hether tJiese remarks are well or ill founded, 
 will best appear, when we -come to apply them to 
 the particular passages in which the word occurs. 
 In that now before us, it is used, I think, in the 
 second of the two senses I mentioned ; and its 
 best comment seems to be another passage, 
 cap. xxiv. \Transl. Part III. Sect. 2.] where the 
 
 critic 
 
 ^ Garf. xxiv. 
 
 > 
 
 1 1 
 
310 NOTES. 
 
 critic observes the advantage which the Epic Poem 
 has in the varitty of its Episo<les, and assigns the 
 want of that variety, as one common cause of ill 
 success in Tragic writing : — to yot^ OMOION nx-^M 
 
 NOTE 38. 
 
 P. 113. The ridiculous — a species of 
 
 TURPITUDE OR DEFORMITY; SINCE IT MAY 
 BE DEFINED, &C. 
 
 It has been asserted by some writers of emi- 
 nence, that Aristotle here speaks, not of what is 
 laughable or ludicrous, in geneird, but only of the 
 ridiculous, in that particular sense of the word, 
 in which it is distinguished from the merely risible, 
 and implies laughta^ mixed with disapprobation 
 or .contempt^. This, however, is certainly not 
 what Aristotle has said\ for the word yiXoiov, 
 which he uses, is as general as possible, and 
 answers exactly to our word laughable. And it 
 is in this general sense, justified, I think, by com- 
 mon usage, that I have used the word ridiculous 
 in my version. For .though in a philosophical 
 speculation the distinction above-mentioned may 
 be necessary for clearness, and is undoubtedly 
 well founded, yet, in common language, tlie 
 word ridiculous is never used with this nice appro- 
 priation, 
 
 Seattle, On Laughter and Ludicrous composition — 
 ch. i. p. 326.-"'l— Lord Kaims, El. of Criticism, i. ch.\'^ 
 
 NOTES, 321 
 
 priation, but applied, like its Latin original, to 
 whatever excites laughter. 
 
 But it is objected, that, if Aristotle means the 
 laughable in general, his account of the matter 
 is false ; because " men laugh at that, in which 
 ** tliere is neither faitlt nor turpitude of any 
 *' kind\'' I answ^er, that this is true in English, 
 but not true in Greek Our word, turpitude, is 
 confined, I think, to a moral sense, and I suppose 
 is here so used hy Dr. Beattie; and it is certainly 
 true, that we laugh at many things that have in 
 them no turpitude of thai kind — nothing; morally 
 wrong. But the Greek word, AIXXPON, was a 
 word of wide extent, and seems manifestly used 
 here by Aristotle in its utmost latitude; compre- 
 hending every tliing tiiat is, in any degree, ugly 
 or defonned, from atrocious villainy, the highest 
 moral ugliness, to a ridiculous cast of features in 
 an ugly face. It is the opposite to KAAONT, 
 which was used in a correspondent latitude of 
 application.— The objections, which have be(n 
 made to tliis passage, have chiefly, I think, beea 
 owing to this,— that the objectors have not been 
 sufficiently aware of the extensive siOTification in 
 which the Greeks used the words, xocXou, aWyjoy, 
 
 We translate the words of antient authors by words 
 to which we annex diiierent ideas, and then raise 
 
 objections 
 
 VOL. I, 
 
 Dr. Beatue, ii?td. p. 332. 
 Y 
 
 I 
 
 -. ( 
 
 I' 
 
 m 
 
IM* 
 II * 
 
 314 NOTES. 
 
 objections and difficulties from our own mistakes. 
 The consequence of taking alcr^^oy here in the 
 restrained sense of wor^/ turpitude, has been, that 
 those writers, who have so taken it, have been 
 obliged to deny, that yiXotop means laughcibky 
 because the laughable in general could not truly 
 be defined, *' a species of moral turpitude." 
 
 It plainly was not Aristotle's design here to 
 enter into an accurate inquiry about the nature of 
 laughter, and the distinction of risible and ridi- 
 culous objects. This he had perhaps done, in that 
 part of this mutilated treatise, which related to 
 Comedy, and to which he himself refers in his 
 Rhetoric*. His purpose, here, seems to have 
 been, merely to support and explain his account 
 of Comedy; i.e. that it was /aijudo'k f«vXorf^wy, 
 *• an imitation of bad characters ; " that is, as he 
 immediately limits the sense of the general term 
 fAuAo>, — of jndiculous, or laughable, characters'*. 
 Such, he continues, are properly denominated 
 fauAoi, xaxoi, bad, &c. because the laughable 
 (ytXoiow) is one species of the a*V;^fo>, taken in 
 its most general sense. " But to what species, 
 or class," it was obvious to ask, *Moes it belong?** 
 — To that class, it is answered, of things «»V;^f«, 
 
 • which 
 
 Phet. x.il.Ed. DuvaL-^i^rfrai nOS A El AH lEAOinN 
 i?iy^ sv Toi; nrt^i voivmJcr.i, J bid, iii. i8. 
 
 •* See NOTE 19. — One of the explanations of ^(W/^9• 
 in Htsjchius is xaray^^ir^. 
 
 NOTES. 323 
 
 which are neither destructive nor painful: for 
 these, exciting terror or pity, are the property of 
 Tragedy \ And he asserts, I think, plainly, that 
 the laughabk in general, to yiXoiov, /.« e. evert/ 
 thing that excites laughter, is iixx^mfAo, TI xxi 
 aKr^©> ivu3$\jyo¥ xa< i (pia^riKcv — isj in some re- 
 spect or other, Jau/tj/, wrong, deformed, but 
 neither painful nor pernicious. What follows, 
 about a ridiculous face, is, I think, clearly, not an 
 illustration merely, as Dr. Campbell understands 
 it to be \ but an instance. This seems evident 
 from Aristotle's using the very word oil<rx^o9 ; 
 {n^aruTTOif ocl(rxso^) which he would hardly have 
 done, had he just before used the words ccla-x^on 
 and al(rx(^, as Dr. Campbell and Dr. Beattie 
 contend that he has used them, in a inoral sense 
 only. 
 
 But it is objected—" We can never suppose 
 " that Aristotle would have called distorted 
 '' features " a certain fault or slip*:' To call 
 them a slip^, would indeed sound strangely ; be- 
 cause that expression conveys the idea of some- 
 thing morally wrong. But when we say, that a 
 very long nose, or a wide mouth, is a fault in a 
 face, we use a veiy common expression ; the word 
 fault having, I think, the same latitude of appli- 
 cation as the Greek word dfAoc^rnixcc, 
 ____ It 
 
 • See cap. xii. /w/V/^.— Transl. Pan II. Endo{ Sect. 9. 
 ^ Philos. of Rhetoric, book u ch. iii. Sect. 1. 
 « Ibid. 
 
 Y 3 
 
 tl 
 
 I 
 
I , 
 
 m NOTES. 
 
 It must be observed, however, that all Aristotle 
 says is, that these two characters, deformity of some 
 sort, and the absence of pain, or hurt, are to be 
 found in every object of laughter : he neither 
 says, nor implies, the converse— ihdX every thing 
 so qualified is laughable \ With respect to one 
 of these characters ~ the absence of pain or 
 harm—there can be no doubt It is only sayin^ 
 that we cannot laugh at that which shocks us. As 
 to the other general character, deformity, ugliness, 
 something wrong, &c. (a>«^T»j^a TI x** aiV^O*) 
 it seems to me, that these expressions, taken in 
 that large sense, in which Aristotle plainly means 
 to use them, amount to much the same as those 
 used by modern philosopiiers to characterize the 
 risible in general ; such as, '* incongruity, incon- 
 " gruous association, striking umuitableness\''"-^ 
 '' disproportion, inconsistence and dissonance of 
 " circumstaiices in the some %*ec^^"— " With 
 " respect to works both of nature, and of art," 
 says the ingenious and philosophical author of the 
 
 Elements 
 
 * " Though every incongruous combination is not 
 ** ludicrous, ^veryhidicrous combination is Incongruous." 
 Dr. Beattic, On Laughter, &c. ch.ii. p. 351. 
 
 ' Fhil. of Rhet. book i. p. 89, 93. 
 
 * Bcattie, On Laughter, from Dr. Gerrard. So 
 AJ^eoside — 
 
 sonu incongruous form, 
 
 Some stukborn dissonance of things combined. 
 
 PL 0/ Im,h. iii. v. 250. 
 
 NOTES. 325 
 
 Elements of Criticism, " tione of them are risible 
 " but what are out of rule, some remarkable 
 " defect or excess; a very long visage, for 
 • *' example, or a very short one. Hence, nothing 
 " just, proper, decent, beautiful, proportioned, or 
 '' grand, is risible ^^ This appears to me to be 
 exactly the meaning, and to approach very near 
 to the language, of Aristotle. For, of whatever 
 may be thus characterized it surely may be said, 
 that it has some species ot fault, deformity, or 
 distortion : in Aristotle's words, dfMcc^rriix» T» x«i 
 ^X^ — «iV;^ov TI xai AIEXTPAMMENON. 
 
 Aristotle's account, then, of the ytXom, appears 
 to be right, as far as it goes. It might, indeed, be 
 objected to, as too general, had he given it as the 
 result of an exact and particular analysis of the 
 subject But this, as I have already observed, was 
 not his purpose in this place. 
 
 It is farther objected by Dr. Campbell, that to 
 speak of laughter in getieral, *' would have 
 •' been foreign to Aristotle's purpose : " because, 
 " laughter is not his theme, but Cotnedy ; and 
 " laughter only so far as Comedy is concerned 
 ** with it Now tl>e concern of Corned v reaches 
 " no farther than that kind of ridicule which 
 '' relates to manners ".'*— Undoubtedly it was 
 this 
 
 ' Lord Kaims, EJ. of Crit. voLu ch,s\u Yet he, 
 too, objects to Arisiotic's detinition, as ** obscure and 
 imperfect." — Ch. xii. 
 
 ■ PhiL rf Rhet, b, i, ch. iii. sect. I. 
 
 Y3 
 
 i 
 
326 NOTES. 
 
 this kind of ridicule that Aristotle had principally 
 in view. But I apprehend, that the Comedy here 
 in question was concerned with the ridiculous or 
 laughable in general. For Aristotle's notion of 
 Comedy, as an excellent writer has observed, 
 "' was taken fi-om the state and practice of the 
 " Athenian stage ; that is, from the old or middle 
 " Comedy, which answers to his description. The 
 *' great revolution which the introduction of the 
 " new Comedy made in the drama, did not hap- 
 *' pen till afterwards"." Now tlie old and middle 
 Comedy, as I have before observed", were no other 
 tlian what a^'^ should call Farce. To raise a laugh 
 was so eminently their object, that the ridiculous 
 (to yiXciov) is frequently used by Plato, as syno. 
 nymous to Comedy, and subsfituted for it ; as pity 
 is also for Tragedy^. Nor was it even very 
 '' foreign to Aristotle's purpose'' to instance in a 
 ridiculous face ; for that this also was an esta- 
 blished source oifun in the Greek theatre, is well 
 known from the ^curious account of the comic 
 
 masks 
 
 " Disc ort the Provinces of the Drama, p. 201. 
 
 • KOTE i%, 
 
 ' *A^* kx outT(^ xo7(^ KOI TTi^i TOT TEAOIOr ; 
 
 meaning ameay: and presently after, to^tov ;roi«f osrcj) it 
 roil EAEOI2. i.e. in Tragedy. De. Rep. llh.x. p. 606. 
 id. Scrr.-^Scc also Dc Leg. p. 816. where, in perfect 
 agre.ir.ent with Aristotle, he uses this expression: 
 lea /.:; «> UEFi FEAXITA in 7f»yvia, a fe KiiMQiAIAN 
 
 NOTES. 327 
 
 masks in Jul. Pollux ; who says, particularly of 
 those of the old Comedy, that they were ridiculous 
 caricaturas of the persons represented: — Wi to 
 ytXoiOTifoy i(r;^»j^«Tiro'. The Atlienians were cer- 
 tainly not more delicate than Cicero, who thought, 
 we know, that bodily deformities were *' satis 
 bella materies ad jocandum'/' He, also, agrees 
 perfectly with Aristotle, or rather follows him, in 
 his account of the ridiculous : " Locus autem et 
 ** regio quasi ridiculi turpitudine et defor- 
 
 ** MITATE QUADAM COntiiittur*." 
 
 NOTE 39. 
 
 p. 114. Its Poets have been recorded. 
 
 The original is, o* AErOMENOI auVu? l^o^r^T^^ 
 /livfi/Ao VI vovrat : the only fair translation of which, 
 I think, is, *' they who are called its Poets." But 
 as it seems not easy to find any reasonable mean- 
 ing for this, I have not translated the word at 
 all. The text is probably corrupt. CasteKetro 
 conjectured, very ingeniously,' 'OAiroi MEN *Ol 
 
 *ATTH£ iroiurai. — But this Greek, oAi-yoi ot iroiDTa*, 
 
 u, I fear, what the critics call, iroyu^a xoim[xat(^. 
 
 I uiU 
 
 9 Lth, iv. cap.xix. Aud see Lucian, De Salt. p. 925. 
 ed Bitted, He says, that the ridiculousness of the comic 
 masks was regarded as a part of ilie cntertaiaracnt ; 
 
 ' De Or, lib. ii. cap. 59. 
 
 T4 
 
 m 
 
3t8 NOT E S. 
 
 I will venture to mention another conjecture that 
 has occurred to me. ^ he learned reader will di*. 
 pose or it as he pleases. It seems not improbable 
 that Aristotle wrote, Wn h <rxfifj^r<x r*.* ai^ng 
 •X«^i? *OIA AErOMEN, 'oi ^Crng, &,c. i.e. *' When 
 it had acquired a ctritain form, such as we say,'' 
 alluding to what he had said of Homer's suggest- 
 ing, by hi4 Margites, the true form, or idea, of 
 Comedy, in which tiie ridiculous was substituted 
 for the mere invtciive of the old Iambic, or Satyric 
 f(yr?n\ Ta. n,f xwju^cTia^j IXflMATA ^^«t®* J^i- 
 *«£«,» 4/#yoir, <iKKt^ TO FEaOION ^^a/^«TOTOiii<r«f, 
 
 [c^p. iv.] See, also, what he says immediately 
 after, of the forms (rxftf^xra) of Tragedy and 
 Conjedy being hnfA^n^a, in higher cndit and 
 esteem, tiian tliose of the old mirical and tnco- 
 7niasiic ^mm which preceded them : for this 
 seems to accord with what he here says, that 
 Comedy was, neglected till it attauied something 
 of this its proper form, and aimed at its proper 
 object, the ridiculous. The reader will see the 
 connection : 'h h xv/i^uHTia, hx t« \fH ZnOTAA- 
 
 2EieAI il i^^iii^ iAaSii.. HAll A£ 2XHMATA 
 
 Tim aJrnf i^Hcr^; 'OIA AErOMEN, 'oI aurnf ^oiurai 
 
 • /*i/>i/xoi.iuoyT«».— This differs tr(;m the present read- 
 ing only by the inseition of a single letter, A, 
 which mij^ht easily have been omitted, from its 
 resemblance to the A tliat follows. 
 
 * — T»f kt^ixni Ihai. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 329 
 
 NOTE 40. 
 
 P. 114. Prologues. 
 
 We are not, I think, to look for a sense of 
 the word 11^ oXoy^,. as here applied to Comedy, 
 different from that, in which it is applied, cA.xii. 
 [TransL Part II. Sect, \ 0.] to Tragedy, In both, 
 it was that introductory part of the drama,, the 
 business of which was, to give the spectator, either 
 directly, in its very outset, or, more obliquely, in 
 the course of it, so much information relative to 
 the subject of tlie piece, as would enable him to ^ 
 follow the action without confusion *. This we 
 learn clearly from the following passage in that 
 part of Aristotle's Rhetoric, where he explains and 
 illustrates the oratorical exordium, by a compari- 
 son of it with that of the Epic Poem, and with the 
 prologue^ of a drama. After giving, as examples, 
 the openings of the Iliad and Odyssey, he goes on, 
 
 iStrin^ Eu^»7ri<r»ic, aAA* iv TXI4 ftPOAOrXl* yc IIOT 
 
 ^uAei, tiffwi^ xa* lo^oxXn;' KAI *H KXlMXliAIA 
 
 *X22ATTX12 '■'. — This clearly excludes the separate 
 
 prologue, 
 
 ' This purpose is well expressed in the R/iet. lib, iii. 
 cap, 14. — 6 hi axjTTt^ ili Tijy ;^a rm a^XPf^, 'ttoiei ixoiisvov 
 
 ^ Rhet, iii. 14. The instance there given from 
 Sophocles, *E^i srflrnjf w XIoAv/S^, seems an interpolation ; 
 
 for 
 
11 
 
 330 NOTES. 
 
 prologue, such as that of the Roman Comedy ; 
 and it is, also, irreconcilable with Dacier's idea 
 that by the prologue, in the passage we are con- 
 sidering, Aristotle meant what was afterwards 
 called the Parabasis ; for this was merely an ad- 
 dress from the Poet to the audience, through the 
 mouth of the Chorus, occurring indifferently in 
 any part of the play, and even, sometimes, at the 
 €ndo{ it^ It seems to differ from the prologue 
 of the Reman Comedy, and of the modern drama, 
 only in its being delivered by the Chorus, and io 
 the body of the piece ^ 
 
 Tragedy, according to the usual account of it, 
 seems to have consisted, at;?r^/, only of two parts, 
 the Xofixov, and EicH(To$ioi,\ and to have begun and 
 ended with those choral songs, which were then 
 
 esteemed 
 
 for those words are not in any part of the tt^o^^ of ihc 
 Oeilipm Tyr. even according to Aristotle's own definition 
 of the word, cap. \ii.-^The sense too seems better with- 
 ' out it ; for he means, I think, to say, that it was the 
 general practice of Sophocles to convey this information 
 more indirectly, and somewhere in the Prologue, as it was 
 the general practice of Euripides to do this professedly, 
 and in the very opening. 
 
 # 
 
 * As in the EuxMht. of Aristophanes, which closes with 
 the Ucc^aBoJii, — Sec Suidas, v. vra^aQ. and Jvl. Pollux. 
 
 ^ See the Parabasis of the Nubes, v. 518, which, its 
 indecency excepted, is much of the same cast with the 
 Proloc;ues of Terence, 
 
 ! Cap. xii. TramL Partll, Sect, 10. 
 
 NOTES. 3ji 
 
 esteeined the essential part of Tragedy. But, 
 afterwards, these scanty fables, /luxjoi /;au9oi, as 
 Aristotle calls them, were drawn out to their pro- 
 per size^, not only by introducing a greater 
 variety of episodic incidents', but by prefixing to 
 XXieJirst choral song, (or to the first speech of the 
 entire chorus, according to Aristotle's account of 
 the Parode, cap. xii.) the introductory part called 
 n^oXoy®*, and adding, after the lasty the conclud- 
 ing part called EgoiTof. The case was probably 
 the same with Comedy. The Phallic songs, from 
 which it received its birtli\ were, I suppose, 
 regarded originally as the essential part of the 
 Cojnic drama, in the same manner as the Bacchic 
 hymns were of the Tragic. Aristotle plainly 
 speaks of Comedy, as having gradually received 
 similar additions and improvements to those of 
 Tragedy'; and, among these, that of the n^oXoy©*. 
 That such an introductory part, or act, which 
 should be, as Aristotle expresses it, ^HyfAo, Koys, 
 and o7o7ro*Tio-if Tw iTTioj/Tt ^, was indeed still more 
 necessary to Comedy than to Tragedy, is obvious 
 from the very nature of the former drama'. 
 
 The 
 
 ^ Cap.'iv. e See note 37. »» Cap.W. 
 
 TT^oacaTTa — TT^'Koyjii; — tsy^r^ hiroK^iruv. — Masks were 
 used in 1 ragedy also, c^schylus was, " persom 
 repertor honestae,'' according to Horace. 
 ^ Rhet. ubi supra. 
 
 \ See NOTE 59^ and the passage from Adienacus. 
 
 V 
 
33* NOTES. 
 
 The nature and office of the Greek prologue, 
 and its two different w^//;?er^, are, I observe, very 
 exactly expressed by Terence in the conclusioa 
 of his separate prologue to the Addphi ; as they 
 are also very well exemplified in the two first 
 scenes. 
 
 Dehinc, ne expectetis argumenta fabulr». 
 Senes qui primi venieiU, hi, partem apeiient. 
 In agendo partem ostendent. - - - 
 
 That is^ as I understand it, part of the plot tl\ey 
 will open to you in the way of direct narration, 
 like the prologues of Euripides, (as, in the soli- 
 loquy of Mitio,) and part they will discover in a 
 more oblique and dramatic way, in the scene of 
 action and dialoorue that follows: *♦ In agendo 
 partem ostendent'^ 
 
 I ventured, in a former note*, to say, that the 
 Greek Tragedy appeared to me to have retained, 
 with all its improvements, some traces of its 
 origin. Something of this may be perceived, I 
 think, in the very opening of many of the Greek 
 dramas : but especially in those of Euripides, 
 whose inartificial prologues of explanatory nar- 
 ration, addressed directly to the spectators, remind 
 us of the state of tragedy previous to the intro- 
 duction of the dialogue ; when it consisted only 
 of a story told between the acts, (if I may so 
 speak,) of the Dithyrambic Chorus, which was 
 * then 
 
 ♦ N0T£ 3j, p. 308. 
 
 NOTES. 333 
 
 tiien the main body and substance of the enter- 
 tainment When I read the opening of the 
 Hecuba : 
 
 HKXl, vix^uv KBv9jjt,uvx Koti (ncom TrvXocg 
 
 AiTTuv, iv Aoffg %&jp;c icyct^ou 6euv, 
 
 nOAT AXIPOZ, EKocfirjg Truig yeyug Tfjg Ki(r(recog 
 
 •—that of the PerscB of iEschylus: — . 
 EXAod Big ulxv 'TTi^x ycaXuTOCi. - - - 
 
 —or, even th( 
 AYTOS dy lxn\v9cc 
 
 o nAri KAEiNOs oiAinoYi: kaaot- 
 
 MENOS - - - 
 —of Sophocles", I cannot help thinking of the 
 single actor of Thespis, announcing his own 
 name and family, and telling the simple tale of 
 his achievement* or misfortunes. 
 
 This sort of direct explanation was afterwards, 
 with much more propriety, taken from the persons 
 of the drama, and consigned to tlie actors in a 
 
 detached 
 
 ■ Ahiiost all the Tragedies of Euripides open in 
 the same manner. See, in particular, Jj)/^ig, in Taur. 
 Bacchm^ and Phtenissa, 
 
 • Oed^ Tyr. v. 8. — Of all the openings of this Poet, 
 that of the Trachinia resembles most the manjaer of 
 Euripides. 
 
334 NOTES. 
 
 detached prologue, such as those of Phmius and 
 Terence: a practice, which, if we did not know 
 the attachment of Ben Jonson to every thin^ 
 antient, we might suspect he meant to ridicule, 
 by the pleasant use he has made of it hi the 
 prologue to his puppet-shew oi Hero and Leander, 
 in the Bartholomew Fair. 
 
 " Gentles, that no longer your expectations may wander, 
 ** B«hold our chief actor, amorous Lean Jfr, 
 ** With a great deal of cloth lapp'd about him like a scarf, 
 " For he yet serves his father, a dyer at Puddle-wharf," &c. 
 
 The next, and the last step, in the history of 
 Prologues, was again to leave the argument, as 
 it had been left by Sophocles, to the oblique in- 
 formation and gradual development of the action 
 itself, and to make the separate prologue subser- 
 vient to other purposes, unconnected with the 
 subject of the drama.— The worst bf these pur- 
 poses, and the greatest possible abuse of the 
 term, is to be found in what is called the Pro- 
 logue of the French Opera ; ivhich is wholly 
 composed of two ingredients, almost equally dis- 
 y^ gusting to a just poetical, or moral taste —- 
 allegory and adulation*. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 I3i 
 
 • See Rousseau's account of it, Diet, de Adusique, 
 mrt. Prologue. 
 
 NOTE 41. 
 
 P. 114. Epicharmus and Phormis first 
 
 INVENTED COMIC FABCES. - - . 
 
 Dacier, here, raises unnecessary difficulties. 
 His positive assertion, that, in the old and 
 middle Comedy, « II n'y avoit rien de feint,'' 
 [Notes 10 and 13] is surprising. The slightest in- 
 spection of Aristophanes will confute it. Was it, 
 then, a fact, that Socrates used to be suspended 
 in a basket for the benefit of aerial meditation .> 
 and that JSschylus and Euripides weighed their 
 verses in a pair of scales, to decide, by that 
 means, a contest for superiority, after they were 
 dead*? &c. Farther, it seems not easy to recon- 
 cile this assertion of Dacier's, to wliat he after- 
 wards says, ch. ix. mte 8. 
 
 MvJ«f ir^ittv, is clearly to invent plots or sub- 
 jects; and whatever is invented, or feigned, is, in 
 Aristotle s language, x«eoAK, or general, as opposed 
 to a stricUy historical plot, which is x«9 Uxfop, 
 particular. See ch.ix.' which is the best com-' 
 nient on tliis passage; especially what is there 
 said of Co?nedi/. The expression, therefore, 
 which Aristotle presently after uses, in speaking 
 
 of Crates, a>i^f^^ mg i'a/uj3ixuf Utag, xaJoAk 
 
 womi, Aoyaf li ^uAhj, I understand to be no more 
 
 ^ than 
 
 -^ — ■ — ■ 
 
 • AWx, Ja 1. Sc, m.-^Ran^, Aa V. 6V. ill. 
 
 * Traml. ?m U. Sfct. 6. 
 
 
II 
 
 33^ NOTES. 
 
 than the development of tlie shorter expression 
 which preceded, ^u9»f reii»„. Ife does not say, 
 that Crates was the first Poet, but only the first 
 Athenian Poet, who invented such comic sub- 
 jects. The distinction seems clearly marked : to 
 /Afir iy il d^^n; IX IIKEAIAX Mt: TXIN AE 
 A8HNH»£I, K^arnf wftnf^ — x. t. «XA. 
 
 NOTE 42. 
 
 P. 114. Epic Poetry agrees so far 
 WITH Tragic, &c. 
 
 . Of the corruption of this passage I have no 
 doubt. It has been proposed to eject the words, 
 lAtra, \9yjs. My suspicion rather falls upon the 
 word fAir^a; which, as it adds nothing but em- 
 barrassment to the sense, (Xoy^, speech, or 
 words, being a general term, and including rnetre, 
 as in ch. i\) I have omitted. It appears to me, 
 likew ise, that the only meaning, which can reason- 
 ably be given to the expression, fAtxgi MONor 
 fAiTf 8, is—" as for as metre alone ; i. e. without 
 " considering the other means of imitation, mi/odj/ 
 *' and rhythmr And, accordingly, some com- 
 mentators, by /t*iTfov 'AnAOTN, understand verse 
 done, without musk. But had this been Aristotle's 
 meaning, he would probably have used the ap- 
 propriated and clear word, i^*aoi. ^ The proper 
 and obvious sense of /^fTf oy aVA«k, is, a simple, or 
 
 » See NOTE jj. p. 234, 6cc. 
 
 *» Ibid. 
 
 NOTES. 337 
 
 single, kind of metre'. This sense seems also 
 supported by what he says of the metrical dif- 
 ference of the Epic and Tragic Poems, cap, xxiv. 
 where melody and rhythm are not taken info the 
 comparison, but tlie different kinds of metre 
 only, and their being one, or many: — 1\ yoc^ t*? 
 
 ly aW'ji Tin /A«T^u $iViyifiii,OLTiyL'ny lAiixn^iy ttoioito, rt 
 
 iv nOAAOIS, uTTftTTii ay (pxiyoiTo. And farther, 
 that Aristotle did not mean to express by ixBr^oy 
 inXayy the exclusion of melody and rhythm, 
 appears thq more probable, because he suffi- 
 ciently expresses this presently afterwards, when 
 he says, that some of the parts of Tragedy were 
 peculiar to it. Now these parts, are no other 
 than the decoration, (ovJ/k,) and the Melopa^ia, 
 which included melody and rhythm. 
 
 On the whole, it seems not improbable, that the 
 passage originally stood in some such way as this: 
 •H ^ly iy ETTOTToiix Tn T^ocy^^^a, fJit^Pi ^gvh TOT 
 
 NOTE 43. 
 
 P. 115. This, at first, w^as equally 
 
 TH? CASE WITH TraGEDY ITSELF. 
 
 It seems to have been taken for granted, 
 
 without any foundation, by Dacier, and other 
 
 commentators , 
 
 « ATTT^n-^MONOElAHl — Suicfas, 'A^rAsv— AITN- 
 ©ETON. Hes. So, uttp^v is opposed by Aristotle to 
 TTETrxgyfAsvov, caf.x. et passim: aiid to ^iTrymt cap,xm. 
 ti xxi. » 
 
 VOL. I. z 
 
338 NOTES. 
 
 commentators, tliat the modern rule, (for an 
 antient rule it^certainly is not,) of what is called 
 the unity of time, was strictly adhered to in every 
 period of the Greek drama: and this has led 
 them, in this passage, to confound the length of 
 the action, or fable, with that of the represen- 
 tation ; for these, where a strict unity of time is 
 observed, are indeed the same. But Aristotle 
 here says plainly, that in the earliest state of 
 Tragedy, no rule at all, with respect to the time 
 of the action, was observed ; that it was not 
 only allowed to exceed " a single revolution of 
 " the sun;',\.xxt was « indefinite" U'of.f®-) like 
 that of the Epic Poem. This evidently cannot 
 be applied, without absurdity, to the time of re- 
 presentation. Yet so it is applied by Dacier in 
 his note on this passage, p. 70. 
 
 But it appears farther, I think, from what is 
 said, and plainly said, in this chapter, that, after 
 all we have heard so often about this famous . 
 unity of time, the rule receives not the least 
 support from Aristotle's authority. Every one, 
 who knows how much stress has been laid by 
 modem critics on the three dramatic unities, and 
 happens not to be well acquainted with Aristotle's 
 treatise on Poetry, would, I suppose, naturally 
 take it for granted, that they are all explicitly laid 
 down, and enforced by him, as essential and in- 
 dispensable laws, in that famous code of dramatic 
 criticism. But the fact is, that, of these three 
 
 rules, 
 
 NOTES. ^^^ 
 
 rules, the only one that can be called important 
 
 that of 1the unity of action— h, indeed, clearly 
 laid down and explained, and, with great reason, 
 considered by him as indispensable. Of the 
 two other unities, that of place is not once 
 mentioned, or even hinted, in the whole book ; 
 and all that is said, respecting the time of the 
 action, is said in this chapter, and in these 
 words : '' Tragedy cndtaxours, as Jar as pos- 
 *' sible, to confine its action within the limits of 
 *' a single revolution of the sun, or nearly 
 " w*." Almost all the commentators seem 
 agreed in understanding the expression, ^*« 
 ir£fioJ(^ f?Ai«, to mean only an artificial day. 
 But I own I could never yet perceive any good 
 reason, why we should not permit Aristotle to 
 viean what he seems, in plain terms, \o say. 
 If he meant only twehe hours, why did he 
 prefer an expression so ambiguous, to say the 
 least of it, as ^lav iri^iohy r>i», to the clear and 
 obvious expression of ^Lxay *HMEPAN ? — But, to 
 wave this question, the utmost, which the most 
 strenuous advocates for the unity of time can 
 make of this passage, is this— that the Poet 
 should endeavour, as far as possible, to confine 
 the supposed time of the action to that of a 
 single day, or nearly so. Now it seems allowed, 
 
 that 
 
 AAi*fov eia>^T7uv. Cap, v. 
 
 Z 2 
 
340 NOTES. 
 
 that none of the Greek Tragedies extant could 
 have taken up, in the representation, more than 
 three or four hours. What Aristotle, therefore, 
 here says, is so far from being a rule for the 
 unity of time, that, on the contrary, it is saying 
 as plainly as possible, that, in his view, it was no 
 duty incumbent on the dramatic Poet even to 
 aim at the observance of such a rule : for, had 
 he thought otherwise, his mode of expression 
 would, surely, have been very different. lie 
 would have proposed the strict unity of time— 
 the exact coincidence of the actual time of re- 
 presmtation with the supposed time of the 
 action — as the point of perfection, at which the 
 Poet was to aim: he would have said, '' Tragedy 
 " endeavours, as far as possible, to confine its 
 *' action within the time of representation^ or 
 *' nearly so." 
 
 It is certain, indeed, that the nature of the 
 drama, strictly and rigorouslj/ considered, would 
 require, I will not say, to the perfection, but to 
 the closeness, of its imitation, the exact coinci- 
 dence here mentioned ; and it is on this founda- ^ 
 tion only, that any rule at all relative to time 
 could be necessary, and that the dramatic Poet 
 could, with any reason, be denied the privilege 
 of the Epic. All I contend for is, that Aristotle 
 has no wlirrc required such a coincidence; that 
 he has not even mentioned it ; much less has he, 
 either here, or in any other part of his work, 
 5 enjoined 
 
 
 NOTES. 341 
 
 enjoined it as a rule. His rule is, as generally 
 understood, "confine your action, as nearly as 
 '' you can, to a single day ;"— or, as I think, in 
 conformity to his plam words, it skoidd be under- 
 stood—'* to a single revolution of the sun, or 
 "twenty-four hours ^" 
 
 It may, perhaps, be objected, that Aristotle 
 has not delivered this in the form of a rule; that 
 he only refers to fact, and to the usnal practice 
 of the dramatic Poets of his time. *' Tragedy 
 endeavours," &c. But, surely, to mention the 
 general practice of Poets with seeming appro- 
 bation, or, at least, without a word to the con- 
 trary, is, in fact, to erect that practice, (as he 
 has done on many other occasions throughout his 
 treatise,) into a rule.— It is sufficient for my 
 purpose, that, at least, he has given no other 
 rule. 
 
 Moreover, 
 
 * It is diverting to hear Castelvetro gravely setting 
 forth the inconveniences of being shut up for four and 
 twenty hours in a theatre : — '* II tempo stretto e quello, 
 '* che i vcditori possono a suo agio dimorarc fedendo in 
 " theairo ; il quale io non veggo che possa passarc il 
 *' giro del sole, si come dice Aristotele. cio e, hore 
 " dodici : conciosia cesa che per le ncccssita del corpo, 
 •* come e, mangiare, here, dipcrre i supcrfui pest del 
 ** ventre e delta vesica, dormlre, e per altre necessita, 
 " non possa il popolo continuare oltre il predetto ter- 
 " mino cosi fatta dimora in theauo."— />. 109. 
 
34* NOTES. 
 
 Moreover, what he here says of the practice 
 of the Greek dramatists, seems somewhat adverse 
 , to the laiiguage of those modern critics, who so 
 often appeal, if I mistake not, to that veiy prac- 
 tice, for the support of their rigorous unity of time. 
 Tor, if his expression does not prove, that he 
 thought the rule of a single revolution of the sun 
 the only rule which the Poets ought to observe, 
 it surely proves, because it actuajly says, that he 
 thought it the only rule, which, in general, they 
 did observe. But what says Dacier ? " Une 
 " Tragedie, pour 6tre parfaite, ne doit occuper 
 " ni plus, ni moins de terns, pour Taction, que 
 " pour la representation ; car elle est alors dans 
 " toute la vraisemblance. Les Tragiques Grecs 
 " I'oNT ToujouRs PRATiQu£" What he adds, 
 it seems not very easy to comprehend : " Et ils 
 *' sen sont fait une loi si indispensable, que pour 
 " ne la pas violer, ils ont quelquefois violeuth leurs 
 " tncidens, d'une maniere que je ne conseillerois 
 " pas de suivre : " i. e. in plain English, (for I 
 can make nothing else of it,) « they have so 
 " scrupulously adhered to' the rule, that, some- 
 " times, for the sake of observing it, they have 
 " been obliged to break it." />. nS. 
 
 I believe, every reader, who, in perusing the 
 Greek Tragedians, has taken the pains to examine 
 this matter, must be sensible, that what Dacier 
 80 confidently asserts, of their constant adherence 
 
 to 
 
 N O T E S. 343 
 
 to this rule, is palpably false. I shall only men- 
 tion one remarkable instance of the utter neglect 
 of it, and that in Sophocle.s ; who, in this, as 
 in other respects, is usually regarded, I think' as 
 the most correct and regular of the three Greek 
 Poets whose Tragedies are in our hands. In his 
 TrachinitEy v. 632, Lichas sets out to carry the 
 poisoned garment to Hercules, whom he finds 
 upon the Cenaan promontory, which is said' to 
 M about sixty Italian miles from the scene of the 
 action. At v. 734, Hyllus, who was present M'hen 
 his father received the garment, arrives with the 
 terrible relation of its effects. Thus, during the 
 pertbrmance of about a hundred lines, a journey 
 of about one hundred and twenty Italian miles is 
 supposed toliave been taken.— For this, and other 
 instances of the same kind, I must content myself 
 with referring the reader to the sensible and well 
 written Estratto delta Poetica d' Aristotile, pub- 
 lished among the posthumous works of Metastasio, 
 and which did not fall into my hands till all my 
 notes were written. It contains many ingenious and 
 sagacious observations. The subject of the dra- 
 matic unities, in particular, is discussed at large, 
 and, I think, in a very masterly and satisfactory 
 way. And, with respect to the stiict unities of 
 time and place, he seems perfectly to have suc- 
 ceeded in shewing, that no such rules were im- 
 
 posed 
 
 ' By Metastasio. 
 
344 NOTES. 
 
 posed on the Greek Poets by the critics, or by 
 themselves ;— nor are imposed on any Poet, either 
 by the nature, or the end, of the dramatic imi- 
 tation itself ^ 
 
 It would be inexcusable to quit this subject 
 without reminding the reader, that the imitics of 
 time and place, were long ago powerfully, and, in 
 my opinion, unanswerably combated, as far as 
 tlmir principks are concerned, by Dr. Johnson, in 
 bis preface to Shakspeare, p. 20, &c. 
 
 •• Capitolo 5. 
 
 -V- 
 
 *:np of the first volume. 
 
 Undfen : Prwitcd bj Luke Han^rd rk Sorii, 
 new LincoluVlun Fitld*. 
 
FEb li 
 
 ml 
 
.-.V. . 
 
 Jr* 
 
 
<^^i'i!ih}n 
 
 ■i 
 
 I'' 
 
 
 ?>: 
 
 iM 
 
 I i ?il 
 
 
 4- • ; • . 
 
 • •- 1 • ■ 
 
 ;» ' * 
 
 'fft;* *: 
 
 Ts 
 
 
 
 
 ■ J*3»-y' 
 
 - -*»;1 
 
 
 '-*•* 
 
 
 
 vM-i 
 
 
 t ,» 
 
 ^ ^ > • > t. 
 
 ■M^'*^, ^*^rtr^Tr*Tr?53r T^i 
 
 ^»f , > » i 
 
 * * >- ...*■■ 
 
 I 
 
 r >. 
 
 V 
 
 f i,>*TT""*'** irT'*' 
 
vr-»— -- 
 
 -,?|l|m,,^- 
 
 IrU*. 
 
I '^ ll 
 
 ARISTOTLE'S 
 
 TREATISE ON POETRY. 
 
 TRANSLATED: 
 
 ^/\t^\ 
 
 sx 
 
 Columbia Winktv^v 
 
 m t1]e Citi» of ilf to Bovk 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIVEN BY 
 
 Ur. ^ 
 
 WITH 
 
 NOTES 
 
 ON THE TRANSLATION, AND ON THE ORIGINAL; 
 
 AND 
 
 TWO DISSERTATIONS, 
 
 ON POETICAL, AND MtJSICAL, IMITATION. 
 
 BY THOMAS TWINING, M.A. 
 
 THE SECOND EDITION, 
 m TWO VOLUMES, 
 
 BY DANIEL TWINING, M.A. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 ■x: 
 
 JLtrnton, 
 
 Printed by Luke Hantard df- Sons, near Lincoln*s-Inn Fields : 
 
 ATfD SOLD BY 
 
 T. CADELL AND W. DAVIE8, IN THE ITRAND ; PAYNE, PALL-MALL' 
 WHITE, COCHRANE, AND CO. FLEET-STREET J ' 
 
 LONGMAN, HURST, REE8, OKME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW J 
 DEIOHTON, CAMBRIDGE; and PARKER, OXFORD. 
 
 1812. ' 
 
 -.1 
 
i 
 4 
 
 ^>^W^-^'y:''^^l^ ^ ^ 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Gift 
 Dr. JAMES PtC^ 
 
 June 7, 1913 
 
 
 •^- ( 
 
 NOTE 44. 
 
 P. 11 6. In the way, not of narration, 
 
 BUT OF ACTION. 
 
 TT is surprising, that so strange a phrase as 
 -*- f »Vwk -^— «Jf wj^Twv — forms — agent ibus — should 
 have passed as genuine with any Greek scholar. 
 It is still more so, that the obvious opposition of 
 S^mrm to iiroLyyiXia^ and the no less obvious 
 absurdity of opposiifg narration to pity and terror, 
 {i Ji' iwa.YYiXiOL^^ AAA A iC IXf8 xa» ^ojSs) should 
 have escaped the notice of any commentator *• — 
 I should write the passage thus ; still considering 
 it as imperfect : — x*^fK Ikath rm u^m %¥ toic 
 
 fAO^ioiq 
 
 >» # * 
 
 [forte AIAJ ^^uvruv x<xi » h* drrxy' 
 
 ' See the beginning of cap, iii. TramL sect, 4. — I am 
 glad to find myself well supported in these remarks by 
 Mr, Winstanley's note on this passage. Ed, Ox, 1780, 
 p, 278. — I cannot, however, but still regard the text as 
 defective. 
 
 VOL. II. B . 
 
\. 
 
 ^ NOTES. 
 
 Thus the word ^^uvruv will retain its proper sense, 
 and the aclive imitation of the drama, which 
 Aristotle every where makes its characteristic dis- 
 tinction, as opposed to the Epic, will be, as we 
 might expect to find it, in a fonnal and ej:act 
 definition of Tragedy, distinctly marked. 
 
 I will just observe, farther, that this mode of 
 expression— cT^ajvTa^v KAl or ^, *V. is familiar to 
 Aristotle.— Here however it may be justified by 
 the necessity of marking clearly the distinction 
 between Dramatic and Epic Poctrv. In other 
 
 instances, as, hs^ujg xxt y,n roy airov T^OTToy, cap, i. 
 «'f rov ocCtov xa» f^n ^ErajSaAA^i/ra. cap. iii.— . 
 
 il^c^i xat lAfi dyyom. Eth. Kic. v. 8.— it seems 
 hardly to admit of the same excuse. In the Poets 
 we are less surprised to find it frequent. Victorius 
 has pointed out Homer, II. Z. :i:i^. 
 
 and Sophocles : 
 
 - yvcarocy k ax ocyvu}Toc fjtoi 
 
 If any man, in reading the antients, can persuade 
 himself to take such things for beauties, there is 
 certainly no harm in it. Tlie Ikct I take to be, 
 that composition, even that of Poetry, was not yet 
 so far improved and refined, as perfectly to exclude 
 the inaccuracies ^nd redundancies of popular and 
 familiar speech. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 45. 
 
 P. 116. Effecting, through pity and 
 
 TERROR, the CORRECTION AND REFINEMENT 
 OF SUCH PASSIONS. 
 
 y.aTU¥ xaOa^o-ik. — A history of the controversies 
 which this obscure passagfe has excited among 
 critics and commentators, and an exact statement 
 and examination of the various explanations which 
 have been given of it, would almost fill a volume. 
 Among these, however, the opinions, that are 
 worth regarding, or that can, with any shew of 
 probability, be deduced from Aristotle's expression, 
 are, I think, reducible to two. One is, that this 
 purgation, or moderation^ of the passions, is merely 
 the effect of having them frequently excited, and 
 of being familiarized with the occasions of them, in 
 Tragic fiction ; just as the passions of pity and 
 terror are actually purged, or reduced to mode- 
 ration, in a surgeon, a physician, or a soldier, by 
 their being accustomed to those terrible or piteous 
 objects that occasion them. — The other inter- 
 pretation attributes the effect to the moral lessmi 
 and example of the drama : Tragedy purges the 
 passions by the striking pictures it sets before us 
 of the dreadful calamities occasioned by the un- 
 restrained indulgence of them ; by giving useful 
 waniingSj and preparing us to bear the ills of life 
 
 B 2 with 
 
» NOTES. 
 
 with patience. — One, or the other, or bothy of 
 these meanings, have, I think, been attributed to 
 Arbtotle by the best commentators aixl critics. 
 For the first, the reader may see Mr. Harris's 
 Disc, on Music, Painiitig, &c. cA. v. note ^ — 
 Ileins. De Trag. Const, cap. ii. p. 22, 23. and 
 CastelvetrOy p. 11 7, 11 8. — For the second, Ma- 
 dias; — D'Alembert in his letter to Kousseau, 
 Melanges, torn. ii. p. 414. — Dryden. Obs. on the 
 iEneid. — Abb6 Du Bos, Rejl. sur la Poesie, torn. i. 
 sect. 44. &c. — For an explanation compounded 
 of the two, Robortelli, Piccolomini, and Dacier,, 
 who, by the way, after declaring that all the ex- 
 planations of former commentators " served only 
 ** to obscure the passage,'' and that the true sense 
 was 720t to be found in any of than^ proceeds to 
 give us, as that true sense, and as his own dis- 
 covery, exactly what had been said before him *. 
 Let us first see what Aristotle says. He says, 
 that Tragedy, by the means of pity and terror, 
 effects the purgation (xa6a^<rt>) of such passions : 
 i, e. of pity and terror and other passions of the 
 same kind : for pity and terror seem clearly meant, 
 by the expression, to be included in the effect. 
 And this, in my opinion, is sufficient to overturn 
 the second of the explanations just mentioned ; for, 
 according to that, terror and pity are not both the 
 means and the object of the purgation, as Aristotle, 
 I think, asserts them to be, but they are the means 
 
 only 
 
 ^'-^— — i^^^i^i— — — ^-^M I » l» ■ ■ II nu ll ■■ 
 
 • See his note 8, 
 
 NOTES. 5 
 
 mly of purging other passions — those passions, 
 whatever they may be, which are supposed to 
 produce the calamitous events exhibited to our 
 view. Indeed, according to this idea, the object 
 b rather the vice that arises from passion, than tlie 
 passion itself which is the cause of it. But, be- 
 sides thi^ objection, I do not see any reason to 
 think, that the rnord lesson of the drama, and the 
 effects it might have in moderating our passions 
 through the reflections it excites in us, were at all 
 in Aristotle's thoughts *. The first of the two 
 explanations seems far more admissible. I believe 
 it made a part of his idea, but I doubt whether it 
 was the whole of it. What was precisely his 
 meaning, and the whole of his meaning, will never, 
 I fear, be the subject of a perfect, Stoical xara^- 
 Xu|»c to any man. There is, however, one passage 
 in Aristotle's works, which throws smne little light 
 upon this ; enough, at least, to keep us from false 
 interpretations, if not to lead us to the true. It is 
 in the seventh chapter of his eighth book De 
 Republicd. The Abbe Batteux is the only com- 
 mentator I know of, who has paid a proper 
 attention to this passage ; but as I do not perfectly 
 agree with him, either as to the translation he has 
 given, or the use he makes of it, I sliall produce 
 so nmch of the original as appears to be of any # 
 importance to our present purpose, and subjoin a 
 translation, with some necessary remarks. 
 
 . The 
 
 * Sec the concluding noT£. 
 B3 
 
i NOTES. 
 
 The object of Aristotle, in the chapter referred 
 to, is, to examine what kinds of Music (i. e. of 
 melody and rhythm,) are proper to be used in the 
 education of youth. He mentions and approves 
 a division, made by some philosophical writers of 
 that time, of the different kinds of melodies, into 
 Moral, Active, and Enthusiastic : ra fxtu H0IKA, 
 
 Tcc ^f nPAKTIKA, roc i' EN0OTIIA2TIKA. By 
 the first of these we are to understand a manly, 
 grave, and simple melody. The sense of Tr^axrixa 
 is less clear ; but I suppose it means a more com- 
 ^ plicated and imitative sort of melody, adapted to 
 express human actions; for, in tlie 49th of the 
 Harmonic Problems [Sect. 19.] it is said of the 
 Hypo- Phrygian mode, that it had ii9©^ ?r^axTixo», 
 and was, on that account, used only in the dia- 
 logue and action of the drama, never in the choral 
 part ^ And the same epithet, ^r^axTixa*, is applied, 
 in this treatise, to the Iambic measure ^ As to 
 enthusiastic, it wants no explanation. — Aristotle 
 tlien proceeds to observe, that " Music was to be 
 
 " used, 
 
 ■■ " ■ ■ ■ » , „ , ^ 
 
 ** He says too — xara S'e t>iv i^oSiufin xau biro^^uyiriy 
 IIPATTOMEN' 6 ix oIkuo'j kri x^^^' ^'i yap x^f ^ Krfhinr)^ 
 AnPAKTOS. — u,T.K — The whole Problem, though 
 mutilated, is curious, and throws some litde glimmering of 
 light upon the Greek drama, as far as Music is con- 
 cerned. 
 
 / *^ Cap, xxiv. — TO fJLVH [i. e. the Trochaic tetrameter,] 
 ofX>'^«cv TO h, [the Iambic verse,] FIPAKTIKON. Whence 
 Horace's, — " natum nbus agcndis,* A. P. 83. 
 
 NOTES. 7 
 
 ** used, not for one useful purpose only, but for 
 " several," which he enumerates; and one of 
 them is — KAOAPDEXIS Ivixx : with respect to 
 
 which he says — t» h Kiyo^tv rriv xoc^tx^c-iv^ yvv 
 /t*fv, aVxwf TraXik ^£, EN TOIS OEPI nOlHTIKHS, 
 
 i^8/x4v tra^sfi^oy : — " What I mean by KaOa^^-K, 
 *' or purgation, I shall now explain only in a 
 " short and general way ; but hereafter, in the 
 " books concerning Poetry, more explicitly and 
 " clearly." — And this, I suppose, he had done, 
 in that part of this treatise which is lost. — • 
 He then proceeds thus : — 
 
 viocig, i rov pcijTov ds tdottcv ^cKrotig %pijg'6ov ' aXXa 
 TToog jLtev Tfiv 7rocideta.v, roag i^iKUiroLTonq ' 'jroog oi 
 aK^ooca-iv [f. KA0AP2^1N], In^cov xet^a^ywTuv, 
 Koci Totig 'jrorxKTiy.aigy xxi Toctg Bv9ii(rixg-i:cong. 9 yoto 
 'rreoi Iviug crvfjifiocivei 7ra5©^ 4^^^%^^ *V%t;f^'^, tuto 
 
 Iv TTOCCOtig VTTOtoya' TO) 06 TjTTOV SlCtfBPBl XOU TUt 
 
 fjLocWov. oW, EAEOS KAI OOBOL. In J' gi/fe- 
 orioto'fi'^' Kou yoto vtto TavTTjg rr.g Ktvvi(reci}g 
 
 K9CT0CKCt)ytlJi0l TlVBg BKTiV. BK OB TtOV IBDCOV fJLBACOV 
 
 OQU)fjLBv THT\igy oTocv y^oif}(rct)VTou roig B^o^yix^acrt Trjv 
 4^1^%^^ p£Xg(r<, ycocQig-xfjLBvug, cocttbo IATPEIAS 
 rvx^vf^^ jea* KA0APSEflE. tocvto Syj tuto 
 avoLyaocicv 7roLC")(etv Koci rag B'hByifJLOVocg, ycoci rag 
 (pol3y}TiKiig, Koct mg cXoog 7rot6r}Tix.iig' r^g 6 ciXkhgy 
 
 Kxd OCOV iTTifiuXXn TCOV TOlfiTUV %KOC^ta, KOCl TTdCl 
 
 B 4 ytyvBO'Goci 
 
» NOTES, 
 
 ryvB^rQcti TINA KA0AP2IN, xau Kitp^e(r6ccc 
 fXBd' jSovrjg, [p. 45^. Ed. Duval.] • " 
 
 In 
 
 * This passage may be considered, alone, as a complete 
 refutation of an opinion published some years ago by 
 Professor Moor, of Glasgow, on the subject discussed in 
 this note. He asserts, that by ^ro^^ra Aristotle does not 
 mean fassions, but sufferings, or caj^imiim ; and that the 
 sense of 3^; Iaes xai <po^^ Trs^a^vaaa mv rm toihtuv Trady^tm 
 Ha6a^<nv, is~efFecting, or endeavouring to effect, " the 
 '^removal of suc/i calamities^ (i.e. as are represented in 
 Tragedy,) "by means of exciting the passions of pity and 
 « terror." But the sense, both of KaQa^<nu and of 9ra^, 
 (Mara, is fixed, beyond dispute, by the passage I have 
 quoted, where >^i/y, terror, and othtv passions, are clearly 
 mentioned as the objects of the j^^^crif, or purgation. 
 The Professor also asserts, that the word, wfiich Aristotle 
 uniformly uses to express the passions, is ^«^, and that by 
 5rafin^T* is " always meant sufferings, or calamities:' This 
 IS a mistake. liaBn is continually used by Aristotle in the 
 sense of sufferings ; and Tra^^ra sometimes, though less 
 frequently, in the sense of passions. So Rhet. II. 22, 
 
 P- S74« C- *«* 9r5fi 7QV >,Q(cf^ xai nA0HMATX2N " con- 
 
 '^cerning manners and passions^ See also, Moral. 
 Eudem. II. 2. p. 205. B. where to^ and Tra&^ra are 
 used synonymously. Many other instances, I make no 
 doubt, are to be found in Aristotle's works. 
 
 I should add, that I take my account of this explanation, 
 •md the arguments by which it is supported, from the 
 Monthly Review, vol. xxx. p. 65 ; not having been able to 
 procure the pamphlet itself, of which the title is— ^* On the 
 " end of Tragedy, according to Aristotle : an Essay, in two 
 parts, ^c.—By Jam^s Moor', LL.D. Prof, of Greek in 
 the Umv. of Glasgow r^lt is mentioned again, with ap. 
 probation, in the 64th vol. of the same Review, p. 556, 
 
 €l 
 
 NOTES. 9 
 
 In this passage, for dx^oxtriv I have no doubt 
 that we should read xa9a^<r*v. The similitude of 
 the words is sufficient to account for the mistake 
 of the transcriber ; and the purport of the whole 
 passage seems to require the correction. For 
 Aristotle is here shewing, in what manner the 
 three different kinds of melody were to be ap- 
 plied to the different /?Mrpci^tf^, which he had just 
 enumerated : wpo? MEN ttw IIAIAEIAN, ronq ^hx. 
 
 vjog AE TDy KA0AP2IN, — raif TrjaxTixaif, &c. 
 
 The opi>osition is clear. And so, aftenvards, a 
 third purpose is mentioned — v^og ANAIIATSIN, 
 [p« 459-] The words immediately following, 
 iTifwi/ ^ei^H^yBvTuvy probably contributed to this 
 mistake. They allude to his doctrine, in the 
 preceding chapter, that boys should not be al- ^ 
 lowed to practise or perform, themselves, any but 
 the simplest kind of Music, and upon the sim- 
 plest and easiest instruments, such as were not 
 ^ioixivot ;)^«f»f7'ix>if i7nrri[Ang. [p. 457.] But this 
 was not the character either of the active and 
 enthusiastic melodies, of which he here speaks, or 
 of the instrument used in the accompaniment of 
 them '. 
 
 I shall now give what I think a fair and literal 
 version of the passage. - - - * 
 
 " It is manifest then, that all the different kinds 
 " of melodies are to be made use of; not all, 
 
 *' however, 
 
 ^ The Ai/^^. See ibid. p. 459 and 457. And the i** 
 vol. of this Work^ p. 225, note". 
 
10 NOTES. 
 
 " however, for the same purpose. For education, 
 *' the most moral kind should be u»ed: for 
 '' PURGATION, both die active, and the enthu- 
 " siastic ;— performed, however, by others. For 
 *' those passions, which in some minds are violent^ 
 ''exist, more or less, in all; such as pity, for 
 '' example, and terror: and, again, enthusiasm; 
 " for with this passion some men are subject to 
 - " be possessed : but when the sacred melodies, 
 " intended to compose the mind after the cele- 
 " bration of the orgic rites, have been performed, 
 " we see those men become calm and sedate, as 
 " if they had undergone a kind of purgation, or 
 *' cure. And the case must necessarily be the 
 " same with those who are particularly liable to 
 *' be moved by pity, or terror, or any other 
 " passion ; and with other men, as far as they 
 
 are under the influence of any such passion; 
 
 all of them experiencing a sort 0/ purgation, 
 
 " and PLEASURABLE RELIEF." 
 
 From this passage, though far enough, I am 
 sensible, from being perfectly clear and explicit, 
 two things, at least, may, I think, be confidently 
 deduced. — 1. That whatever be the meanintr of 
 tlie term xaflaferi?, or purgation, here, must also 
 be its meaning iu the treatise on Poetry; since to 
 that work Aristotle refers for a fuller explanation 
 of it. The only difference is, that here, the term 
 is ap[)lied to the effect of imitative Afusic ; there, 
 to that of imitative Poctn/ ; of that species of it, 
 2 however, 
 
 NOTES. II 
 
 however, which depended, we know, upon Music, 
 for a very considerable part of its effect. 2. It 
 is plain, that, according to Aristotle's idea, pity 
 was to be purged by pity, terror by terror, &c. ; 
 contrary to the second of the two explanations 
 above-mentioned. For Aristotle is here expressly 
 speaking of the use of enthusiastic Music applied 
 flTfof xoc^x^tnv; and he says, that men, agitated 
 by enthusiasm, were purged or relieved from that 
 enthusiasm by the U^x juiAtj, which were plainly 
 enthusiastic melodies; i.e. such as imitated, or 
 expressed, that passion, and were intended to calm 
 the min/J, which had been violently agitated and 
 inflamed ; not, as M. Batteux understands, by 
 the sudden opposition of Doric, grave, and moral 
 strains, [p. 280, 1.] but by pleasurahle indulgeiice 
 of the same passion in imitative Music : xa^i^irSat 
 /lAfft' nVok»)ff. Tliese melodies were, probably, such 
 as those of Olympus, which had been mentioned 
 just before [cap. 5,] and of which Aristotle says, 
 that they, '0/AoAoya/ifj»wf noiEI TAX ^TXAS 
 ENeOTXIASTIKAS. Indeed, from the manner, 
 in which the Music of Olympus is spoken of by 
 Plato, and Plutarch, there is great reason to sup- 
 pose, that these '^ sacred melodies'' were no other, 
 than the very melodies of that musician ^ 
 
 With 
 
 ^ — T8f vofjiHi th; apfjiovucag iisveyKEv [sc. Olympus.'} tig irjv 
 ExxaJ'a, hi; vi/v x^^vrai bi EXArjvfj h ruig ec^rai; tmv 9iuv. Plut» 
 de Mus, p. 2076. fd, H. S. See also Plato in ih^ Minos, 
 
 pag. 318. 
 
 i^ 
 
»2 NOTES. 
 
 With respect to this xcix^rn itself, Aristotle 
 by no means gives us in this passage, nor, indeed, 
 professes to give us, a full and satisfactory ex- 
 planation of it. Some light, however, be has 
 flung upon it by the expressions, Icct^h^, and 
 ««^.^t,9«. /.c9' nimt, which he uses as synony- 
 . mous to x«e«f ,.f : " Fwgat ion, cure, pleasurable 
 relief." The Abb^ Batteux understands Aristotle 
 to mean no more by this, than that the passions 
 of terror or pitj/, which, when excited by real 
 objects, are simply painful, or, at least, have a 
 predominant mixture of pain, are, by imlatmi, 
 and tlie consciousness of fctfon, purged or pun- 
 fied from this alloy of the disagreeable and pain- 
 ful, and converted, on the who\e, into an emotion 
 of delight. His meaning may be clearer in his 
 own words. Aristotle, he says, had established 
 it as a principle—" Que les objets desagriables 
 " plaisent quand ils sont imitSs, nidme torsqu'ils 
 " le sotit dam la plus grande veriUK En appli- 
 ^^ quant ce principe k la Tragedie, il s'ensuit, que 
 "^ c'est I'imitation qui est la cause du plaisir 
 " quelle produit, et non Ja nature des objets 
 imit^s, puisque ces objets sont par eux-meines 
 " d^sagreables. C'est done I'imitation qui 6te k 
 
 " la 
 
 pag. 318. ed. Strr. where he says of the melodies of 
 Marsyas and Olympus, that they are, 0EIOTATA ,« 
 f«va KINEI._See Dr. Bumey's Hiu. of Muuc, U i. 
 P- 3S9» &c. 
 
 c< 
 
 «( 
 
 * Caf, iv. Trantl. Part I. Sect. 5. 
 
 «( 
 
 <( 
 
 4< 
 
 <( 
 
 U 
 
 notes: ij 
 
 la terreur et i la pitie Taccessoire d^sagr^able 
 qu elles ont dans la reality : c'est Vimitation qui 
 opere la purgation Tragique, en mettant les 
 " malheurs imit6s k la place des malheurs r6els, 
 *' et en s6parant par ce moyen ce que la pitie et 
 ** la terreur ont d'agr^able, comme emotions, 
 d avec ce qu'elles ont de d6sagr6able, quand 
 elles sont jointes k Yidie de malheurs r6els **." 
 This account, which is exactly Fontenelle's solu-. 
 tion of the pleasure arising from Tragic emotion', 
 is liable to a difficulty not easily, I think, sur-> 
 mounted. It confines Aristotle's meaning to the 
 present pleasure of the emotion ; it supposes all 
 the purgation to consist merely in rendering the 
 feeling of the passion pleasurable; — not in any 
 good' effect which the habit of such emotion may 
 produce, in correcting, refining, or moderating, 
 such passions, when excited by real objects. Now, 
 though it must be confessed, that Aristotle has 
 not, in that short and professedly imperfect expla- 
 nation given of the x«6a^cr«f in the passage ad- 
 duced, said any thing directly pointing to such 
 effect, yet, I think, the whole turn and cast of his 
 
 expression 
 
 ^ Principes de la Literature, torn. iii. p. 8i.— I refer 
 to that work, because the author appears to me to have 
 explained himself there with more clearness and preci- 
 sion than in the note on his translation of Aristode in 
 the Quatre Poetiques, 
 
 * Reflect, sur la Poeti^ue, Sect, 36. — Hume's Essay 
 
 on Tragedy, "^ 
 
14 NOTES. 
 
 expression is such, as leads one naturally to con- 
 clude, that it was his meaning. The phrase, 
 Jt«<pt^£(r0a» ^f8' nVovnr, does indeed appear to ex- 
 press the present effect only ; but I can scarce 
 conceive, that he would have used such a word as 
 xaSa^erif, and Still less, lATPEIA, without a view to 
 something beyond the pleasurable relief or vent 
 of the moment ; especially, in a chapter, where 
 he is professedly enumerating and examining the 
 uses of music ^ Farther, the words, lAirj/Aova?, 
 ^oj3?iTi)csf, 7ra9>3Ttx«?, confirm this idea: beinor all 
 words expressive of habitual ej'cess, requiring 
 correction and moderation \ 
 
 But, what still more strongly opposes the Abbe 
 Batteux's idea, is, that Aristotle is here, as Hein- 
 sius and others have well observed, evidently 
 combating the doctrine of Plato, whose great 
 objection to Tragedy, was, that it feeds and in- 
 flames the passions ™ It could be no answer to 
 this, to allege, that the feeling of passion excited 
 by Tragic imitation is pleasurable; for this is so 
 fer from being called in question by Plato, that it 
 is the very foundation of his objection. The 
 
 pleasure 
 
 Uhi supra, 
 
 ^ ' The same thing seems implied in the word xora- 
 
 nuxifMt'y and in the express] (>n — o ya^ mpi h/ia^ a-u/x^aivn 
 
 waQ(^ 4.ux<x; IIXTPhS . 
 
 °* TPE^EI ya^ raura, he says, in his figurative lan- 
 guage, APAOT2A, a^y ATXMEIN.— i>^ Repub. lib, x. 
 p. 6o6, D, 
 
 / 
 
 NOTES. t5 
 
 pleasure afforded by such Poetry is allowed by 
 him in its utmost extent". '' Let its advocates," 
 he says, " undertake to shew us that it is not 
 " merely pleasurable, but useful also, and we 
 " will lend a favourable ear to their apology ; for 
 " we shall surely be gainers by the conviction ^" 
 Now Aristotle, if I understand him rightly, un- 
 dertakes this apology, and points out the utility 
 required. And no one, I think, can reasonably 
 doubt, that such was his intention, who has at- 
 tended to the following passage of Plato:— 
 
 aToXocvHv Auxyxn cctto twv u?0<qt^iuv iU ra olKtix' 
 ©PE^ANTA yx^ ly Ueiyoig ISXTPON TO EAEEI- 
 NON, 8 pxSiov Iv Totg 'ATTOT RAQEXl KATEXEIN ^ 
 For, to this objection, there cannot well be a more 
 direct and pointed answer, than Aristotle's asser* 
 tion, as usually understood— that the habit of 
 indulging the emotions of pity, or terror, in the 
 
 fictitious 
 
 * ■ 
 
 ■ IW. p. 607, C. D. et passim. 
 
 • AoifAiv 3£ ye TTH av km roi^ TT^oraTcu; auui; . xoyov 
 
 m^t ainm tlmiv^ wj i fzovov 'HAEIA axxx hm n<&EArMH 
 'JTfo; ra^ ToAtTcwtj km tov ^lov rov dvQ^umvov zri, km ivftsmi 
 axii<rof^E9x. xs^^avHf^ ya^ tth, eav /x>, fju>m h^sux <pavn. o^^a 
 KAI n4»EAIMH.— //^/V. 
 
 » Ibid. 606. B.— *« The habit of indulging our pas- 
 " sions in the concerns of others, will, of necessity, 
 «' bring on the same habitual indulgence in those whicfc 
 " relate to ourselves: for he, who has nourished and 
 " strengtliened to excess the passion of pity, for example, 
 " by habitual sympathy, in the misfortunes of other men, 
 *^ will not find it easy to restrain the same kind of feelings 
 " in his oif^j." 
 
»6 NOTES, 
 
 fictitious representations of Tragedy, tends, on the 
 cmtrary, to moderate and reti.,e those passions 
 when they occur in real life. ' 
 
 But though the Abb6 Catteux's idea of this 
 purgatcon appears to me by no means to be the 
 -u^hde. It must, I think, be admitted as a part 
 and an essential part, of Aristotles meani„.r.' 
 Tor the effect depends, not merely, as some 
 commentators seem to suppose \ on the having 
 our passions frequently and habitually excited^ 
 but, on the having them so excited by fictitioul 
 representation. Pity and teiTor frequently ex- 
 cited by such objects and such events in real 
 Me as the imitations of the Tragic scene set 
 before us, would rather tend to produce apathy 
 than moderation. Nature would struggle aaainst 
 such violent and painful agitation, and the heart 
 would become callous in its own defence. We 
 must be insensible, that we might not be wretched. 
 It is far otherwise mthfctitious passion. There, 
 the emotion, though often violent in spite of the 
 consciousness of fiction, is always, more or less 
 delightful. We indulge it, as one of the first of 
 pleasures; and the effect of that indulgence 
 frequently repeated, is perhaps, that, while it mo- 
 derates real passion by the frequency of similar 
 ipjpressions, it, at the same time, cherishes such 
 sympathetic emotions, in their proper and useful 
 
 ' degree, 
 
 » Heinsius De Trag. Conuit. cap. ii. _ Harris On 
 Music, &c. ch. V. mtt '. 
 
 NOTES. if 
 
 degree, by tiie delicious feelings which never fail 
 to accompany the indulgepce of them in imitative 
 representation. ' ' 
 
 The passions of savages, or of men in the first 
 f u,de stages of civilization, are ferocious and pain* 
 ful. They pity, or they fear, either violently, or 
 not at all. With them, there is hardly any 
 medium between ungovernable agitation, and ab- 
 solute insensibility— Suppose such a people to 
 have access, like the Athenians, to theatrical 
 representations, and to have their passions kept in 
 frequent and pleasurable exercise by fictitious 
 distress ; the consequence, I think, would be, that, 
 by degrees, they would come to have mote feeling, 
 and less perturbation. Instead of sympathetic 
 emotions rarely excited, painfully felt, and soon 
 extinguished, they would gradually acquire a 
 calm, lasting, and useful habit of general tender- 
 ness and sensibility. In polished society, where 
 the passions are accustomed to be indulged in 
 fiction, eitlier in the theatre, or by reading, and 
 the pain is converted, on the whole, into one 
 strong and delightful feeling, by the charms of 
 inntation, Poetry, Music, aided by the indistinct 
 consciousness of fiction -these passions, even 
 when excited by real objects, seem to retain, (at 
 least, in cases where we are not too closely touch- 
 ed,) some tincture of the same pleasurable emo- 
 tion, which attended them, when raised by works 
 of imagination ; they are more moderately and 
 ^*^'^- "• c agreeably 
 
ii ^ 1^ O t E S. 
 
 igfefebly felt, mb^ easily governed, tod rtore 
 gentle and polished in their expressions. 
 
 Such appears to me, on the whole, to be the 
 most probable explmiation of Aristotle's meaninc^ : 
 I must, at least, confess it to be the only reason- 
 able meaning, that I am able to discover. How 
 far It is true, and founded on solid observation, 
 is another qoestFon, which I willingly submit to the 
 ^philosophical and thinking part of my readers. 
 
 I cannot omit to observe, that the short eXpla- 
 iiatioh given by Milton, in the introduction to 
 h\& Samson Agonist es, appears to coincide exiactly, 
 nsfar as it goes, with my idea of the passage.— 
 '* Tragedy, as it was anciently composed, hath 
 *' been ever held the gravest, moralest, and most 
 ** profitable of all other P6ems: therefore said 
 ** by Aristotle to be of power, by raising pity, 
 " and fear or terror, to purge the mind of those 
 " and such like passions ; that isy to temper and 
 ^ reduce them to just measure, with a kind of 
 " delight^ stirred up by reading or seeing those 
 " passions well imitated'^ 
 
 'One thing should be added. Aristotle's asser- 
 tion must be considered relatively to his own 
 times, and nation. He speaks of the effects of 
 Tragedy on the people of Athens, who, as irading 
 was then no popular occupation ', had scarce any 
 opportunity of indulging jifc^/Viow^ emotion, h\M 
 at the Theatre, and who, we know, were there 
 
 accustomed 
 i See Diss. I. vol, i. p, 62, 6cc. 
 
 NOTES, t# 
 
 accustomed to indulge it perpetually* With us, 
 the case is widely different. The doctrine, 
 therefore, of Aristotle, that " Tragedy purges the 
 " passions," translated, if I may so speak, into 
 nwdem truth, would perhaps amount only to tliis 
 — that the habitual exercise of the passions by 
 works of imagination in general, of the serious 
 and pathetic kind, (such as Tragedies, Novels, &c.) 
 has a tendency to soften and refine those passions, 
 when excited by real objects in common life. 
 
 NOTE 46. 
 
 p. 116. In some parts metre alone is 
 
 EMPLOYED, IN OTHERS MELODY. 
 
 A passage of very tantalizing brevity. By ii^ 
 fA,ir^m MONON, are we to understand,' according 
 to the obvious and literal meaning of the ex- 
 pression, that in some parts of Tragedy the vefse 
 was merely recited, spoken, as in modern Tra^ 
 gedy?— This contradicts what, by many writers^ 
 has been considered as a fact thoroughly esta- 
 blished, that the Greek Tragedy was accompanied 
 by musical instruments, and was therefore strictly 
 musical, throughout :— for as to the dreanis of the 
 Abb^ Du Bos, Rousseau, and others, about a 
 noted declamation^ a declamation accompanied by 
 Music, yet not sung— this is too manifest air ab- 
 surdity to stand in need of confutation. If, ^ 
 Rousseau says, it is " impossible to understand 
 
t 
 
 *<^ Kf 6 t £ S. 
 
 " what the antients haVe said about their theatrical 
 " declamation, without supposing this'," would 
 it not be better to say, at once, that we do mf 
 understand it, than to explain it into impossibili- 
 ties!' As for the systematic Abb^ Du Bos, he 
 was set upon proving hb point ; and he proves it 
 like a man resolved to prove it, by wresting all 
 sorts of authors to his purpose, and translating 
 them as he pleased \ All we know clearly, is, 
 that the antient drama am accompanied, (in part, 
 at least,) by musical instruments. I conclude, 
 confidently, that since the instruments could not 
 spea/c, the actors must sit?g : that their declama- 
 tion must certainly have been, strictly speaking, 
 musical, however simple; the chanting of the 
 simplest plain chant, being as truly Music, i.e. as 
 essentially distinct from speech, as the most refined 
 melody of a modern opera'. 
 
 If, then, the Greek Tragedy had a musical 
 accompaniment throughout, it must have been 
 ^ung throughout. But here, Aristotle says, as 
 plainly as « ords can say it, that in some parts of 
 Tragedy, " metre only" was employed:— A* 
 METPiiN Iwa MONON : that is, as it is necessa- 
 rily implied, mtlwut the two other iiv^t^xTiz, 
 
 or 
 
 * Diet, de Musique, Art. Opera. 
 
 ' For a refutation" of Du Bos, the reader may sec 
 Condillac's Essai sur I'orig. des connoh. humavu^ 
 tome iil. ch, j,- ':> 
 
 * See Diss. ILvol.i. /^. 78. note \ 
 
 NOTES. ti 
 
 or seasonings, of Tragic language, just mentioned, 
 melody and rhythm **. 
 
 Some commentators, I know, endeavour to 
 evade the force of this expression, by saying, that 
 Aristotle means, by ^ta /xfT^wk ^ovov, only the 
 7ioted declamatio7i, which, being a sort of recitative, 
 was not regarded as strictly musical, nor denomi- 
 nated /xA©**. And in support of this, it is 
 alleged, that the word Xefif, speech, is applied by 
 him afterwards in a similar manner^; as Xiyi<r^M 
 is also by Plutarch, who talks of " some of the 
 " Iambics being spoken with an accompaniment y 
 ** and others sung^T as we sometimes say of a 
 singer, that he spealcs recitative well. But all this, 
 I confess, does not satisfy me. It is one thing, to 
 apply occasionally the word Aigi? or Xtyar^on, in 
 this comparative way, to such kind of singing as 
 most resembles speech, and another, to say roundly, 
 that some parts of Tragedy made use of meti^Cy 
 or verse, only ; and that too, immediately after 
 \i'dsmgjixed the exclusive sense of juoi/ok, by enu- 
 merating the three r^vcij^o^ra. of Tragic diction, 
 which he asserts to be separately used in different 
 
 parts, 
 
 Kai fxtr^cv. To oc, x^^fiJ ruv bIouv, to ^la METPUN ENIA 
 
 * So M. Batreux. 
 
 ' See c/i. xii.— ASHII 5a» XOPOT. 
 
 5 Dial, de Mus. p. 2090. ed. H. S.— Ta luv My^j^m 
 
 C3 
 
** NOTES, 
 
 parts, r. e. puS^u®., «'f,tte„«, juitjo, »,— rhythm, 
 MELODY, and METRE. They who .lis,,ute this 
 meaning, must at least, I think, allow that ii it 
 had been the meanini^, Aristotle could not v^tll 
 have expressed it with more precision. JIow 
 can /.ng^, here be taken in the loose and compa- 
 rative sense contended for, when, in the v^ry 
 words iumiediately preceding, it is carefully li,„ited 
 to Its strict and proper sense, by being ex,jrcssly 
 discriminated from melody, as well as (rom 
 rhythm ? 
 
 But after all, the fact, that the Greek Tragedy 
 was smig throughout, tliough olten asserted, has 
 not yet been proved; nor do 1 think that it ccn 
 be proved ; at least, by any passage ot .ntient 
 authors, that I have seen adduced to prove it. 
 The Abb^ Vatry, in a dissertation, Sur la recita- 
 tion des Tragedks ancicmiei; undertook to prove 
 in form, that the Greek Tragedies were suJ 
 " d'un bout a I'autre," like our operas. J5ut 
 how does he prove this.?- by proving, what indeed 
 
 - is 
 
 »«. MEA02. On comparing this passage wi>h A lo.le'; 
 other enumerations of the three means of i,„i.at.on in 
 cap. . especially at the end of it. where Tragedy is men- 
 tioned as using .// those means. «aTa ^^Q^, L%^. ^ 
 
 METm " ^^rrr' '° ^^"? elsewhere,) «« 
 METPii, no one, I think, can entertain any degree of 
 
 Son'" ''"'' °' ^'"°"-'^ ^-"''^•-H' «« 
 
 u 
 
 it 
 
 iC 
 
 NOTES. 23 
 
 is easily proved ■, that a part of thue Iambics, of 
 the dialogue, was sung, and then by taking it for 
 granted, that the antients could not possibly have 
 endured so barbarpus a eustorp, as the mixture of 
 speech and singing in the sain^ piece. " II ne 
 ** paroit pas qu on puisse douter que ces cq?2tiques 
 " ne se chantassent ; mais de cela mfeme je cj^ois 
 " pouvoir conclurre, que tout le reste se chantoit, 
 " quoique differemment; car le bon spiSy et ce 
 que les anciens nous disent, nous conduit k 
 penser que leur recitation etoit partput de 
 mf me nature, et qu'elle ne ae bigarroit point, 
 " tantdt d'une simple declamation, et tant6t d'un 
 " chant musical^." 
 
 By the same presumptive ipode of arguing, the 
 Abb6 might also have proved, ^ pr'mi, that the 
 Greeks could not possibly have been guilty of 
 the modern barbarous bigoi^rure of serious and 
 ludicrous, in their Tragic drama. But the iSrst 
 Greqk Tragedy he had opened would probably 
 have overturned his reasoning \ 
 
 A thorough discussion of all the passages of 
 antient autiiors, that throw any light upon this 
 question, relative to the dramatic representations 
 of the Greeks, would draw me much too far 
 
 beyond 
 
 * The 30th and 49th of Aristotle's Harmonic Prob, 
 Sect. 19. are, alone, sufficient proofs of this point. 
 
 ' Mem. de I'Acad. Roy, des Inscriptions, &c. tome II, 
 
 P- 343; QCtavo. 
 
 * See NOTE 33 — in the 1'' vol. 
 
 C4 
 
«4 NOTES, 
 
 beyond my bounds. I must content myself with 
 pointing out (for I think it has not been observed) 
 the stubborn difficulty which this passage of 
 Aristotle appears to me to throw in the way of the 
 common opinion upon this subject; and with 
 hazarding a mereXy hypothetical conjecture, that, 
 if, as Aristotle seems plainly to say, some part of 
 the Greek Tragedy was spoken, like our Tragic 
 declamation, without any musical accompaniment, 
 it was, most probably, that part of the dialogue, 
 which, as I have before observed, in note i'^, is, 
 in every Tragedy, easily distinguished from the 
 rest, by its being carried on in a sort of quick 
 repartee of verse to verse. As, in this part of 
 tlie dialogue, we almost constantly find the Tragic 
 tone lowered to a more colloquial pitch, and even 
 approaching frequently to the jocular and bur- 
 lesque, it seems reasonable to think, that here, 
 ifmiywhere, the musical accompaniment, and the 
 elevation of lengthened and chantbg tones, were 
 withdrawn, and common conversation left to com- 
 pion speech. 
 
 But what, again, are we to understand by-^ 
 xai 7raAi> in^x $i(x, /xtXaj ^ — Are we to repeat 
 ^oi'fii/, and understand Melody alone, without the 
 two other uVu(r^5STa, Rhythm and Metre? This 
 cannot ba For though we may strip the Tragic 
 language of melody and of rlr thm, or, in other 
 w ords, of Alusic, we cannot strip it of metre. 
 The anticnts mobt certainly did not admit pro^e 
 
 ^nta 
 
 NOTE S. 1^ 
 
 into their Tragedies ; and as little can we conceive 
 them to have set prose to Alusic ". 
 
 Dacier, and some other commentators, under- . 
 stand by ^fX®* here. Music, including rhythm. 
 This sense of the word is certainly warrantable ; 
 but it can hardly be the sense herfe : for, surely, an 
 instance, in which all the three ri^ia-y^ocrx were 
 used, (as they must be, if m^tre be indispensable, 
 and [AiX(^ imply rhythm and mdody,) would be 
 but a strange illustration of the XOPIS Wa^ji 
 
 I do not see what remains, but, that we take 
 l*.t\Q^ here in its most restrained sense, as distinct 
 from rhythm, or time, and synonymous to d^[xovK»; 
 that sense, in which Aristotle had used it before, in 
 his first chapter ". And if we do this, we must 
 
 necessarily, 
 
 ° The reader will observe that Aristotle is expressly 
 speaking ot the yi^yo-fxara of Tragic speech or language : 
 hEyu h r)^u(rfX(vov fjnv AOFON tov fy^vrct pu6fju}v, &c. — fVords, 
 therefore, arp equally implied in all these 7]^u(TfjuxTcc, and, 
 consequently, Alusic alone — i.e. instrumental Afusic, is here 
 entirely out of the question. 
 
 " — puOfjLUi Hai MEAEl KM /txsTp, answering to hh Jjrst 
 division, pvOfjLu km >Joyu Kai APMONIAi. 
 
 The word MEA02, it may be useful to observe, occurs 
 in tliree different musical senses, i . Sometimes, as here 
 and in the Greek writers on Aifusicy in the same sense as 
 fi^fAovia — i.e. melody, abstracted from rhythm, or time. 
 1 hus, Aristides Quintilianus, p. 32, and see p. 7, his ac- 
 count of (jisxui^iay &c. 2. Sometinies, for air, or measured 
 pielody ; as in the definition of Baccliius, p. 19. {Ed, Metb,) 
 2. Jomeiimes it is used as equivaieut to sqng, including 
 
 melody. 
 
/ 
 
 %h NOTES. 
 
 neccwarily, I think, understand, that some parts 
 of the dialogue were sung without rhythm: 
 I mean, without musical rhythm, or time, though 
 certainly not without that poetical or prosodic 
 rhythm, by which in reciting verse, and, indeed, 
 even in the most familiar conversation, the syllabic 
 quantity must have been relatively, at least, ob- 
 served, though not, I presume, with the inflexibility 
 of musical measure, nor with such a rigorous 
 equality of long to long, and short to short, as is 
 essential to the execution of what is properly called 
 Music, and as I suppose to have been observed in 
 the choral odes ^ Thus the dialogue of the Greek 
 Tragedy will appear to have been not improperly 
 
 compared 
 
 melody, rhythm, and words. Thus Plato — to MEAOS 
 Ik r^iuv In cuyjcHfitvov , y^ya ti, km a^ixovia^^ kou puQfM. Rep, iii. 
 p. 398. D. In another place, however, he uses it in the 
 ^rst and narrowest sense, for mfre melody : MEA02 ^au 
 KAI pu9ixov aviu pvfjiaTuy. De Leg, ii. p. 669.— I'his third, 
 and fullest sense of the word is what A. Quintil. ex- 
 presses by /u£A®- ri>£iov. p. 28. 
 
 • This has been well remarked by Dr. Burney, Hist, of 
 Mus. vol. i. p. 161. " The melody of antient declama- 
 *' tion,'* &c. — M. Burette goes so far as to suppose, that 
 no strict rhythm was admitted even in the clioralpsLn of the 
 antient Tragedy. His authority is the following passage 
 of Plutarch's Dial, de Mus, — tw /x£v x^yLCkTom ytn\, uai 
 PT0MIli, T^ayuOia (uv khTTu kui rvfji^fov xexp-ntM. p. 2084.. 
 ed, H. S. But the text here is evidently corrupt. The 
 name of some particular species of rhythm is probably 
 omitted. See Mem, de VAcad^ des Inscrip, tome xix. 
 p. 427. octavo. 
 
 NOTES: ^ 
 
 compared to our recitative; differing from the 
 chorus, ajs our recitative differs from the airs, both 
 in tije absence of strict time, and in the kind of 
 melody, which was also, as mere melody, less 
 musical than the choral melody, and more imitative 
 of speech, as well as of action ^, Whether the 
 monologues, or long speeches— the (axx^ai /uo-ac, 
 as Plato calls them *» — were performed in the same 
 Mray, as the rest, of the dialogue, or, as it has been 
 imagined, were distinguished by being more mea- 
 sured and musical, is a point not easily cleared up. 
 The passacres commonly appealed to for this 
 purpose, from the grammarians Diomedes and 
 Donatus, about the Caniica of the Roman Comedy, 
 1 look upon as a- very frail foundation of any con- 
 clusion with respect to the Greek Tragedy ^ The 
 passage of Plutarch above quoted, fwte ^ furnishei) 
 the strongest support I know of for such a dis- 
 tinction. For, if by " spoken or recited to an 
 ** instrumental accompaniment, "" (ra ^fv [sc. twit 
 iVi3«wyJ AEFESQAI itqlooc Tnu Kpntr^u) Plutarch 
 meant, as I think he must mean, sung in recitative, 
 not literally spoken, (for how could that admit of a 
 musical accompaniment ?) then, aVierSa*, 'which is 
 '_ ^opposed 
 
 P See Aristotle's Prot^kins, Sect. 19, Pr^^/^. xv. and xlix. 
 < De Rep. X. />. 605. 
 
 ' See the Abbe Du Bos, Reflex, sur la Poes. &€. vol. iii. 
 Sect. 1 1, &€.— This writer's explanation of the passage of 
 Aristotle that we have been considering, is worth the 
 reader's inspection, as a perfect model of misrepresentation 
 absurdity, and blundering. ' 
 
 ;B 1 
 
«« NOTES. 
 
 opposed to it, must of course imply, not mere 
 singing as opposed to speech, but a more musical 
 and meamred melody. 
 
 NOTE 47. 
 
 P. 117. The meaning of Melopoeia is 
 
 OBVIOUS - - -, 
 
 I have ventured to depart from the^ common 
 interpretation, by understanding the word (^uva/Ai;, 
 here, to mean, not the power, and effect, of the 
 Melopoeia itself, but the power, i. e. the meaning 
 of the term. Aristotle is here, as usual, explaining 
 the terms he had made use of. It was directly to 
 his purpose to say, as a reason for omitting a defi- 
 nition in this instance, that the meaning of the word 
 was well known; but not at all to his purpose, to 
 say—*' I need not exj)lain the word, because the 
 " pmer and effect of the thing signified by it, 
 ** (that is, of Music,) is well known." 
 
 Dacier is amusing here. He wonders what 
 could induce the Greeks to make Music a part of 
 their drama ; and at last, '* apres bien dcs recher- 
 '' ches" he discovers one princifial cause to have 
 teen this — that they had very musical cars ; but 
 he does not discover tlie cause of his own wonder 
 which, in all probability, was, that he had not. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 29 
 
 NOTE 48. 
 
 P. 118- Or delivering a general sen- 
 timent- 
 
 In the Rhetoric, Aristotle defines y^w^uu by 
 nxioXx ol7ro<pay(ng, [Lib. ii. cap. xxi. p. 572.] Thus 
 below, in this chapter, for xito(pxipovrai ypufxriPy hk 
 Jirst expression, we have, xaSoAu diro^xivovTM. — • 
 This has been loosely and inaccurately rendered in 
 all the translations I have seen, except those of 
 Castelvetro and Goulston. 
 
 *roTE 4g. 
 
 P. 118. These parts have been em- 
 ployed BY MOST Poets. 
 
 Locus, as the critics say, conclamatus. Time is 
 too precious to be wasted in the support, or refu- 
 tation, of random conjectures upon a passage of 
 such desperate corruption. — How can ^K oXiyoi, 
 " 7Wt aj'ezvi^ be tortured into, " all,^' or, *^ almost 
 all?'' Yet so Dacier, Batteux, Goulston, &c. 
 On the other hand, if fairly translated, " not a few 
 ** Poets have made use of these parts," how 
 strangely it will follow — ""^for every Tragedy has 
 ** them all !" — And how is the «? tWety, to be ap- 
 plied ? to jJx IXiyoi, or, to £iVf<ri ? 
 
 In the midst of these ditticulties, all I could do 
 was tQ make my version consistent with itself; 
 
 faithful 
 
 9: 
 
3© NOT B S. 
 
 faithful to the original, I could not make it, with* 
 out making it nonsensical. 
 
 Those comn)entators, wlio apply the w\ uirm to 
 the word uh(ri, seem favoured by ch, xii. where, 
 speaking of the same essential parts of Tragedy, 
 Aristotle says— ok i^iv as EIl^U Ja ^^fuo-Soi. 
 
 ri 
 
 NOTE 50. 
 
 P. 119. The supreme good itself — is 
 
 ACTION, NOT QUALITY. 
 
 See Ethic, Nicom. I. 5, 7, 8. ed. JVilk. & Mag. 
 Moral, L 4. p. 149, 150. ed. Duval. 
 
 NOTE 51. 
 
 P. 119. The Tragedies of most modern 
 Poets have this defect. 
 
 This receives illustration from what Aristotle 
 presently after says, of " the rhetorical manner 
 " prevailing in the Poets of his time :" 01 «^f yvp, 
 fnTo^ixug. cap. vi : and from his observation, at the 
 close of cap. xxiv. [Transl. Part III. Sect. 6.] 
 that " the manners and sentiments are only ob- 
 '' scured by too splendid a diction.'' 
 
 What he has here said of the recent Tragedies 
 of his time, may perhaps be said, in general, of our 
 modem Tragedies, compared witli those of Shaks- 
 peare. The truth, I believe, is, that the Tragedy 
 of a refined and polished age will always have less 
 
 NOTES. 31 
 
 3i9®^ than that of ruder times, because it will have 
 more dignity ; more of that uniform and level ele- 
 vation, which excludes strong traits of character, 
 and the simple, unvarnished delineation of the 
 manners. Indeed, what the Greeks denominated 
 iJO^, is the peculiar province of Comedy ', and is 
 seldom to be found in Tragedy, except in that 
 stage of its progress, when it is not yet thoroughly 
 and distinctly separated from Comedy ; from the 
 imitation of common life, and natural manners ^ 
 Such are the Tragedies of Shakspeare ; and such, 
 as I have before ventured to suggest, are those of 
 Euripides in particular, which, in proportion as they 
 have less dignity, have more n'S®*, than the Tra- 
 gedies of Sophocles. But in neither of them, nor, 
 probably, even in those very Poets here censured 
 by Aristotle, was the " language ^of Poets,'' sub- 
 stituted for " the language of men \" as it is almost 
 constantly in the French Tragedy, and, too often, 
 in our own Tragedies of the French school. 
 
 • Illud (^d^) Comcediay hoc (7r«fl^) Tragcedia, si- 
 mile. — Quintil. p. 302, ed. Gib, 
 
 '** — ain^av, says Demetrius, mm uTroir^rovj ro >iB^. 
 Sect. 28. — And see Long'mus, Sect. 9, where he very justly 
 calls the Odyssey, xufxai^ia n; A5oMy8^fv>j. 
 
 ' *' Addison^" says Dr. Johnson in his admirable pre- 
 face to Shakspeare, '* speaks the language of Poets, ani 
 
 " Shakspeare, of men. Tlie composition refers us 
 
 « only to the writer ; we pronounce the name of Cato, but 
 ' *' we think on Addison J* 
 
3* 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 P. 119. POLYGNOTUS EXCELS IN THE EX-^ 
 ^RESSION OF THE MANNERS. 
 
 I see not the smallest reason for the substitution 
 of ccyx^uv, for ecyiz^<^, which is the reading, we are 
 told, of all the. MSS. What Aristotle had said 
 before of Polygnotus^ c«/?. ii.— or* k^hjtb^ intai^E— * 
 seems not to afford the slightest ground for altera- 
 tion here, [See Mr. Winstanley's ed, p. 281.] 
 Painters are compared in very different points of 
 view, in these two passages : fhere^ as imitating 
 good or bad, serious or ridiculous, elevated or low, 
 objects : here, only as expressing, or not expressing, 
 manners. It was directly to Aristotle's purpose 
 to say, that Polygnotus was a ''good manner-- 
 '' painter \' («VaO0^ ^^oyooL<^^)—iiQX at all to his 
 purpose, (besides the awkwardness of the expres- 
 sion itself,) to say, that he was '' a manner* 
 '' painter^ of good men r [oiyx^uy ylioy^oc(p(^). 
 
 NOTE 53, 
 
 P. 120. Just as in Painting, &c. 
 
 I hope I shall not much shock even the 
 most conscientious adherents to the established 
 inaccuracy ' and authentic blunders of antieqt 
 manuscripts, by having ventured to adopt here 
 the transposition first proposed, I believe, by 
 
 Castelvetro. 
 
 NOTES. 33 
 
 Castelvetro *. I can only desire those readers, who 
 may be alarmed at my temerity, to read the passage — 
 
 wa^awAij(r<o» yoc^ Ip — x. t. aXA. — tO, flxei/a, — first, 
 
 where it stands in all the editions, and then, where 
 I have placed it, immediately after tlie words — 
 f;i^a(ra ^i fxuiov xxt frvfctciv Tr^ocyfxATuy, — If this ex- 
 periment alone be not sufficient to convince them 
 of the propriety, or, rather, the necessity, of the 
 transposition, I despair of the success of any argu- 
 ments I am able to produce in the support of it. 
 To me, I confess, it is among those things that are 
 too evident for proof. 
 
 NOTE 54. ' 
 
 P. 120. Adventurers in Tragic writing 
 
 ARE SOONER ABLE, &C. 
 
 Aristotle argues here upon a piinciple rather 
 rhetorical and popular, than philosophical — that, 
 which infers superior 'W07^tk fi^om superior difficulty 
 
 and ra?ity : — to ^aXsTruTi^oy xat G-irocviuiTi^ov, /(Afi^oy, 
 
 (sc* ayMif,) as he lays it down in his Rhetoric, 
 Hb, i. cap. vii. p. 529. 
 
 Lord 
 
 * Poetica (T Arhtotele, &c p. 142. Ed e da sapere, chc 
 di soito si truovano in luogo non convcncvole qucste parole, 
 
 vaqa'n'Ktfiaicv Ewwva. Le qKali parole debbono seguitarc 
 
 prossimanunte dopo w^eeyijunun/, &c. Heinsius, too, saw the 
 necessity of the tran^poi^jtion, but appears to me to have, 
 in a great n^easure, desiroyed the propriety of it, by in- 
 serting the passage, not immediately after Tr^oe/fxaTuv, but 
 .after dvayfu^Kres, in the next ecutence. See his note, in 
 Goulst n*s ed, or the Ux. ej. 1 780. 
 
 VOL. LU O 
 
 I ft 
 
 1: 
 '^ ll- 
 
 I f.j. 
 
34 NOTES. 
 
 Lord Bacon, in his Essay On Gardens, uses the 
 same argument, and almost in Aristotle's words, 
 with respect to the superiority of gardening to 
 architecture : '' A man shall ever see, that when 
 " ages grow to civility and elegancy, men come to 
 " build stately sooner than to garden finely ; as 
 " if gardening were the greater perfection'' 
 
 The truth, however, of the fact here asserted by 
 Aristotle, appears, not only from tli^ earlier dra- 
 matic Poets of every nr tion, but from the defects of 
 plots in general, whether Dramatic or Epic ; and 
 from the rarity of those dramatic fables, for which 
 the Poet has trusted entirely to his own invention, 
 without recourse to history, or novels, or the pro- 
 ductions of other dramatists *. — " En general, il y 
 '' a plus de pieces bien dialogu^cs, que de pieces 
 " bien conduites. Le G6nie qui dispose les in- 
 ** cidens, paroit plus rare que celui qui trouve les 
 " vrais discours. Combien de belles scenes dans 
 " Moliere! — On compte ses denouemens Jieurcux, — 
 " On seroit tent6 de croire qu une drame devroit 
 *' 6tre 1 ouvrage de deux hommes de g^nie, Tun qui 
 " arrangeat, et Tautre qui fit parler."— Diderot, 
 de la Poes. Dram, p. 288. 
 
 NOTE 55. 
 P. 120. To THIS PART ^ELONGS, &C. 
 
 Aristotle is not here defining Aiayoioi, as his ex- 
 pression, THTo $t E2TI, seems, at first view, to 
 
 imply : 
 
 -— Tn mil _ 
 
 f See Harris's PhiloL Jnq, p, 160. 
 
 NOTES. 35 
 
 imply : he is only explaining the subservience of 
 the sentiments to the manners ; he is shewing why 
 they are next in rank and importance to the 77ian- 
 ners ; namely, because manners or characters, are, 
 in great part at least, manifested by the sentiments. 
 Dacier's note here is good. *' Aristote suit ici 
 " Tordre naturel. Les sentimens sont pour les 
 " moeurs, ce que les moeurs sont {)oiir Taction. 
 " Comme un Poete tragique ne peut bien imiter 
 " une action, qu'en employant les moeurs, il ne 
 ** peut non plus bien marquer les moeurs, que par 
 " le moyen des sentimens ; & par consequent les 
 *' sentimens tiennent le troisieme ran^ dans la 
 " Tragedie." 
 
 NOTE 56. 
 
 P. 120. Which, in the dialogue, de- 
 pends ON the political and rhetorical 
 
 ARTS. 
 
 l^yo¥ Iriy, — I have not seen the words, Ivi roov Xoyuvy 
 satisfactorily explained. I cannot agree with those 
 commentators, who by Xoyoi, here, -understand, 
 oratory, prose eloquence, as opposed to Poetry : 
 a sense, indeed, very common, in Aristotle and 
 other writers ; but if we adopt it here, how fol- 
 lows — o» TAP d^^ocioi TToXtTixwc EIIOIOTN Xiyovrag? 
 for here, Aristotle evidently speaks of Poets ; not 
 of orators, as Dacier renders it. The passage, 
 
 D 2 then, 
 
t€ 
 
 i< 
 
 it 
 
 €€ 
 
 36 NOTES. 
 
 then, fairly translated, would stand thus : — " which, 
 (1. e. the choice of proper sentiments,) in 
 ORATORY, is the business of the pohtical and 
 rhetorical aits : for the antient Tragic Poets 
 made their characters speak politically," &c. 
 NothinfT can well be more incoherent. 
 
 Et* rtov Aovww, means, I tliink, — in the speeches, 
 discourse, or dialogue part of the drama, as dis- 
 tinguished from the choral or lyric part, which 
 had nothing, or comparatively nothing, to do with 
 ri^^ or character, and in \^ hich the Poet w as, of 
 course, to draw his iiocvmct, or thoughts, principally 
 at least, from different sources; not from the 
 stores of civil wisdom, or rhetorical art, but from 
 those of Religion, Ethics, Mythology, and Poetry. 
 The word Xoyoi, is clearly used in the same sense, 
 in a passage that presently follows : — <r»07r5^ ix, 
 
 l-)(ji(ny iifl^ hiQi ru¥ AOFXIN — *' some of the 
 
 " speeches, or the dialogue.'' 
 
 NOTE 57. 
 P. 120-1. For the antients made their 
 
 CHARACTERS SPEAK IN THE «TYLE 0¥ POLI- 
 TICAL AND POPULAR ELOQUENCE ; BUT NOW, 
 THE RHETORICAL MANNER PREVAILS. 
 
 *Ot [xiy yx^ a^;^aiw IIOAITIKIIS iiroisy Xtyoyrag, 
 
 61 ^i rjy, ftjTof ixwf . — So Rhet, lib. ii. cap. xxii. 
 p. 573, nOAITIKIli (roXAoyKTjUM — a Civil or Ora- 
 torical syllogism, as opposed to the st7nct dialectic 
 4 syllogism : 
 
 NOTES. 21 
 
 syllogism : a distinction which he presently after ex- 
 presses by, ax^ij3fr£f 01/, and AIAAAKXITEPON, o-uXAo- 
 yi^fcrSa* [ibid.] And thus, here, the same term, 
 noXiTixu(, is used, to distinguish the popular, and 
 less laboured, though more solid, eloquence of the 
 Senate or the Forum, from the studied and decla- 
 matory composition of the professed rhetoricians. 
 A similar use of the vvord occurs in^the passage 
 quoted in note 229, from the Euagoras of 
 Isocrates, where, ivo^Atn nOAITIKOIS, is plainly 
 synonymous with oyo|tAa(r4 KTPIOI2:. See also Dion. 
 Ilalicarn. De Struct. Orat. p. 4. ed. Upton, and 
 Faber's note. 
 
 That Aristotle, however, by Politics (u'TroXiTixrj), 
 means oidy, as Dacier asserts, '' Tusage commun, 
 " le langage ordinaire des peuples,'' cannot, surely, 
 be admitted. . The force and extent of the term is 
 well known*. " Civilis scientia," says Quin- 
 ' tilian, ** idem quod sapientia est**." It com- 
 prehended all the necessary knowledge of the 
 To^iTix®*, the vir civilis, the public man. It 
 included, of course, eloquence, or the facultv of 
 public speaking, but that, of a kind very different 
 from the '' umhratile genus,'' as Cicero calls it, of 
 the rhetorical schools ^ What Aristotle says of 
 
 the 
 
 * See Eth. Nicom, lib. i. cap. ii. and iii. and Mag. 
 Moral, lib, i. cap, \, 
 
 ^ Lib. ii. cap. xv. p. 106. ed. Gibs. 
 
 * Cic. de Or. ii. 15 to 19. where he traces the sepa- 
 ration of eloquince from phdosophy. The difference of the 
 
 D 3 political 
 
i 
 
 38 NOTES. 
 
 t 
 
 the old Tragic Poets, that they made their 
 personages speak like such a man, not like a Rhe- 
 torkian, cannot be better illustrated than by 
 Quintilian's character of Euripides. *' lUud qui- 
 dem nemo non fateatur necesse est, lis qui se ad 
 agendum comparefit, utiliorem long^ Euripidem 
 fore. Namque is, et in sermone magis 
 
 c< 
 
 <c 
 
 « 
 
 ii 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 (C 
 
 accedit oratorio gencri, et sententiis dcnsus ; et 
 in iis qua* h. sapicntibus tradita sjint, penfe ipsis 
 par, et in dicendo ac respondendo cuilibet eorum 
 qui fuerunt ix foro diserti comparandus'^ 
 [lib. X. cap. i.] 
 
 That Dacier, with so precise and clear an ex- 
 pression before his eyes, as, EnoIOTN AiyovTa?, 
 should understand this of the antient orators, and 
 roundly pronounce Victorius to be mistaken in 
 applying it to the Poets, seems perfectly unac- 
 countable. 
 
 I do not sec in this passage any foundation for 
 the refinement of Castelvetro, Dacier, and other 
 commentators, who refer the Ivovrx to the political 
 science, and the d^iMorrovrx to rhetoric. The word 
 d^lAOTToyrx, has, I think, the same sense as in 
 cap. XV. and means, such sentiments, or thoughts, 
 as, being adapted to the person speaking, are ex- 
 pressive 
 
 political and rhetorical styles may be well illustrated, 
 I think, by a comparison of the style of Cicero, (in his 
 Orations,) with that of Demosthenes : for on this subject, 
 I cannot but agree with the remarks of Lord Monboddo, 
 Orig. and Prog, of Lang. vol. iii. p. 1 84, and vol, ii. 
 Diss. III. 
 
 I 
 
 NOTES. 39 
 
 pressive of the manners : for it is in this view, as 
 I before remarked, that Aristotle is here considerins 
 the sentiments^ or Aiako^a. Tx Ivoyjx, as Victorius 
 has observed, is equivalent to rx Cttx^^ovtoc ; and 
 it was clearly the business of rhetoric (/JnTo^txii? 
 i^yo¥,) to teach both the iTra^^orrx and the ei^[xer' 
 rovrx. See Rhet. lib. ii. cap. xxii. p. 573, E. and 
 lib. iii. cap.'su. p. 590, D. ed. Duval. 
 
 NOTE 58. 
 
 P. 121. There are speeches, therefore, 
 
 WHICH are WITHOUT MANNERS AS NOT 
 
 CONTAINING, &C. 
 
 The reading 1 have followed is, I think, fully 
 authorised, by MSS. and by common sense. — See 
 Mr. Winstanley's note, p. 282. — The Abbe 
 Batteux has given the passage thus, from a MS. 
 (N* 2117,) in the King of France's library. £$■* 
 
 ii »j6©^ l^lV TO TOi«TOV, ^JjXoi TIJV Tr^OXlOKTiV, OTTOIX T<? 
 
 ifiy' hoTTi^ ax iyji<ny tf4^ hiot, ruv Xoyuv^ iv oif 
 UK in ivi>^oif QTi ir^oxi^iiTXi fi ^iMyn Myuiv. 
 
 The common reading stands thus : — Er* h iJOS-* 
 
 IAi¥ TO TOiJfTOV, ^TlAoi TflV V^tf«i^£(riV, OTTOIX Tl? £r<V, 
 
 f» oig «x Ifi ifiXovy >I TT^oxi^iiTXiy vi (ptvyn o Xiyuv' 
 hotrt^ «x ip^Krik iJ9®^ ivioi ruv ^oycav. — Which is thus 
 
 rendered by Mr. Harris : "Manners or cha- 
 " UACTER is that which discovers what the 
 ^ DETERMINATION [of a spcakcrj xjcill M, in 
 ** matters, where it is not yet manifest, 
 
 D 4 ** whether 
 

 40 NOTES. 
 
 " xvhether he chuses to do a things or to avoid it *." 
 Now if this were true, I do not see how there 
 could be any iJS^, in any play, after the first dis- 
 covery of the speaker s character. In the Avare 
 of Moliere, for instance, it is sufficiently manifest 
 from the very first scene in which Harpagon 
 appears, what his avarice will lead him to chuse or 
 to avoid, in any circumstance of the drama. Is 
 there, for that reason, no rfft©', no sentiments that 
 mark his character, in any thing he says during 
 the rest of the play ? — Nay, more ; according to 
 this reading, there can be no iffi^* at all in any 
 part of that drama : for the x^oatf io-k or propensity 
 of the Miser is completely kuov\n to every reader 
 or spectator from the very title of the piece. 
 
 I know, indeed, that Le Bossu, and others, have 
 given a meaning to this passage, by making 
 Aristotle say, what he certainly does 7iot say — 
 viz. when it is not yet manifest *' ejr indicio dicentisj* 
 -what the will, or choice, of the^ speaker is^ But 
 if the comnjon reading were rigiit, M^e might, surely, 
 expect to find the words, » Jt? ux in hxov, &c. 
 subjoined in other places where he defines the 
 
 * The words — Try ir^oM^iaiv oTrota T15 inv, are not, 
 I think, rendered with Mr. Harris's usual sccuracy, — 
 " what the determination of a speaker witi he^ n^oai^s<rig, 
 here, is not particular determifiationj but that habitual and 
 general propensity which is the cause of particular deter- 
 minations. 
 
 *» Heinsius De Trag. Const, cap. xiv. Lc Bossu, D* 
 Poeme Epique,livre iv. ch. 4. 
 
 NOTES. 41 
 
 it^. Yet we have nothing like it in cap. xv. 
 initio ; nor in the second book of his Rhetoric^ 
 where he says only, u'J®* ^ tx^o-t Aoyo», Iv otro^q ^uXn 
 i ir^oxi^iviq ' : nor in other passages of the same 
 work, relative to the same subject. 
 
 Piccolomini's translation agrees with mine, and 
 is expressed with his usual accuracy. — " Ma il 
 *' costume nel parlar' i quello, il quale mostra 
 " fuora, h apparir ik il volere, e I'elettion di chi 
 ** parla. Peroche alcuni parlari si truovano, li 
 *' quali non hanno costume ; come ch' in essi non 
 " appaia, e non si manifesti, quello, che 6 elegga, 
 " 6 fugga, con la sua volontA, chi parla." 
 
 NOTE 59. 
 
 P. 122. A BEGINNING, IS THAT, &C. 
 
 See Harris, PhiloL Inf. Part. II. ch, v. These 
 definitions must be understood wholly to refer to 
 the wants, and expectations, of the spectator. He 
 mu^t want nothing before the beginning, nor expect 
 any thing after the end. Nothing, however, is 
 more common than both these defects ; than per- 
 plexed beginnings, and unsatisfactory conclusions. 
 Henry Fielding, we are told, used "to execrate the 
 " man who invented fifth acts *." The inventor 
 of Jirst acts has not given dramatic Poets much 
 less trouble. Most modern plays have, I think, 
 more or less of this intricacy in their beginnings ; 
 
 but 
 
 I Cap. xxi. p. 572. E, * Harris, Phil. Inq. p. 161. 
 
43t NOTES. 
 
 but it is especially the case with Comedy. It 
 seems, indeed, by no means easy for a modern 
 comic writer, of whom invention, novelty, va- 
 riety of incidents, and ingenuity of contrivance, 
 are required, <?«>«*, as Aristotle well expresses it, 
 •Jo-Tf^ fiV rnv x"f «j Tui/ a'^p^^^__i, e. to put the be-, 
 ginning fairly into the spectators hand^. The 
 spectator, and even the reader, of a new Comedy, 
 is generally employed, during the first scenes, in 
 guessing an aenigma; and when, at length, he 
 comprehends what is going forward, his attention, 
 interest, and sympathy, are disturbed and dis- 
 tracted, by looking back, to understand what he 
 should have understood at first. Hence the ad- 
 vantage which the Tragic Poet, from the noto- 
 riety of his subjects, generally possesses over tlie 
 Comic ; and which is so pleasantly described in 
 the fragment preserved *by Athenaeus from Anti- 
 phanes or Aristophanes*, that I shall save the 
 reader tlie trouble of turning to it. 
 
 - - - Muxa^io'j eg-iv 17 Tcocyu)Six 
 Uo^1/}|JM 7CUTX TTocvT' ilys TTDcarov oi Xoyoi 
 ICtto tuv Qiurcjov sitriv eyvcjoio'Luvot 
 n^iv Koci Tiv eiTTStv, cog U7rcfjLvyi(roci uovov 
 Aet rov 7roir}T%v, Oili7r\sv yuo ccv yi fca, \ 
 
 TU S UXXU T70LVT \cDL(TlV TTOCTm AoCi'l^, 
 
 MrjTrj^ loTCoc^f} — GvyocTB^sg, TTXiSeg, nveg' — 
 T^ Treiced iJt®^, ti TreTToiviKev' — ccv ttccXiv 
 
 EtTTft 
 
 ^ See Note 40. • Athen. lib. vi. See Casaub. in loc. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 EiTTvi Tig hXufiaimcty Koct ret itotmct 
 HoLVT guSti; BipviKiv — on fidvtig aTreKTOVB 
 Trjv fjLrjTB^a. — ------ 
 
 « 
 
 HfMiv ce TocvT «jc Ig^iv' clxXoc ttocvto, Set 
 
 EVOSIV, OVOfJLOLTOL XXtVOC, TOC StUKfJI/^BVOe, 
 UpOTSDOV, TOC VVV TTOtaOVTUy TfjV KUTOCg'^0(pVlV^ 
 
 Triv e(r(3oXriv' dv Iv ti t^tijuv Troc^ocXiTTYi 
 X^BlJLfjg Tig^ ri (^biScl^v Tig, BKOV^nTBToci, 
 
 DHAEI ^6 TCX.VT B^BfTTl 7C0CI TEYKPIl* TTOIBIV. 
 
 Thus rendered by Grotius ** — 
 
 - - - Scilicet Tragoedia 
 Felix pocma est : nam principio cognitum 
 Argumentum omne spectatori est, antequam 
 Verbum hiscat aliquis : nomen tantum dicerc 
 Poetae satis est. Oedipum pra^scripsero. 
 Jam reliqua per sc ji orunt ; pater est Laius, 
 Jocasta mater ; turn qui nati et filiae. 
 Quid fecit, quid patietur. Si promiserit 
 Alcmaeona alius, ipsi dicent pueruli, 
 " Hie ille est qui interfecit matrem insaniens." — 
 
 At nobis ista non licent, sed omnia 
 
 Sunt invenienda, nomina imprimis nova. 
 
 Res antegestse, res praesentes, exitus, 
 
 Initia. Ex illis siqua pars defecerit, 
 
 Exsibilatur Phido, sive ille est Chremes; 
 
 Ilia alia facere Peleo et Teucro licet. 
 
 When 
 
 * Excerpta ex Trag, et Com. Gracis, p. 622. 
 
44 NOTES. 
 
 When the middle of a drama is not sufficiently 
 connected with wliat precedes, — that is, in Aris- 
 totle's language, when it is not, aJra ^iT *AXo, — 
 a new plot seems to begin : a fault not uncommon 
 in double and complicatect fables **. If, on the 
 other hand, it wants the /iait' cxftyo £t«^6v, the piece 
 seems finished before its time. The Sampson 
 Jgonistes of Milton, according to Dr. Johnson, 
 is deficient in both requisites of a true, Aristotelic 
 middle. Its " intermediate parts have neither 
 *' cause nor consequence, neither hasten nor retard 
 " the catastrophe ^^ The criticism appears to be 
 just. It is seldom, however, that a beginning, a 
 middle, or an end, is defective in both the condi- 
 tions required. A beghming, which, strictly 
 speaking, did tiot naturally require any thing to 
 
 follow it, {[AiT fxiivo trtfoif Vi(pvxiy £tvat,) would 
 
 put even the most attentive spectator into the situ- 
 ation of Shakspeares drowsy tinker: 
 
 Sly. A goodly matter, surely. — Coynes there 
 
 any mo7x of' it ? 
 Page. My Lord, 'tis but begun «. 
 
 The most usual defects, and which, I suppose, 
 Aristotle had principally in view, are those of 
 
 beginnings 
 
 ' ' " ' . ■ ■ ■ I i n fill . . I 
 
 * Qu'y a-t-il de plus adroit que la maniere dont Te- 
 rence a entrelace les ajiiours de Pamphile et de Charinus 
 dans I'Andrienne I Cepeadint I'a-t-il fait sans inconve- 
 nient : — Au comtnencement du second actc, ne croiroit^ 
 an pas oiircr dans unt autre piece ? Diderot, De la Poes, 
 Dtar.t. p. 283. 
 
 ' Life of Milton. » Taming of the Shrew. 
 
 N 9 T E S. 45 
 
 beginnings which do not properly, in his sense, 
 begin^ and of endings which do not end. The 
 first perplex us, by supposing something to have 
 preceded, without clearly telling us what; the 
 other leave us dissatisfied, by disappointing our 
 natural expectations of something more to follow. 
 Of this last fault, instances may be found in abun- 
 dance ; particularly in the conclusions of Shaks- 
 peare**. In Plautus, and even in Terence^ we 
 find this imperfection supplied by a very simple 
 and clumsy contrivance, that, of informing the 
 audience that the play was over, and telling them 
 in what manner tliey were to suppose the catas- 
 trophe completed. 
 
 Spectatores, Fabula hcec est acta : vos plausum 
 date. Piaut. Mostel. 
 
 Spectatores, quod futurum est i7itus^ hie me- 
 
 morabimus. 
 Haec Casina hujusreperieturfiliaesse feproxumo; 
 Eaque nubet Euthynico nostro herili filio. 
 
 Id. in fine Casina. 
 
 Ne eapectetis dum exeant hue: intus despon- 
 
 debitur ; 
 Intus transigetur, si quid est quod restat. 
 
 Ter. And. 
 
 ^ See Dr. Johnson's Preface to Shakspeare, p. 16. » 
 There cannot be a stronger proof of Shakspeare's hasl« 
 in the conclusion of his plays, lljan his passing over in 
 total silence the interesting character of old Adam, at the 
 end of ji% you like it ; a defect felt, 1 believe, by every 
 spectator and every reader of that charming comedy. 
 
46 NOTES. 
 
 The fault opposite to this — that, of prolonging 
 the piece beyond the point of satisfactory conclu- 
 sion — has been attributed to the Oedipus Tyrannus 
 of Sophocles. The criticism is tasteless, on every 
 account The reader may see it well confuted 
 by Brumoy. But one of his answers is alone 
 sufficient, on the principles of Aristotle : " Lc 
 *^ spectateur en eftet seroitnl content s*il ignoroit 
 " le sort de Jocaste, d'Oedipe, et ,de sa fa- 
 •* miller" &c.* '' Oedipus," says Voltaire, '' is fully 
 " acquainted with his fate at the end of the fourth 
 " act Voila done la piece Jinie^ ."^ — He might 
 have learned better criticism from a writer of far 
 inferior abilities. ** II faut aussi prendre garde 
 ** que la catastrophe ach^ve pleinement le Poeme 
 ** dramatique; cest k dire, quil ne reste rien 
 ^* aprfe, ou de ce que les spectatcurs doivent 
 '^ sf avoir, ou qu'ils vueillent entendre ; car s'ils 
 " ont raison de demander. Quest devenu quclque 
 " personnage iJiteresse dam les grandes intrigues 
 " dii Theatre^ ou s'ils ont juste sujet de »favoir, 
 " Quels sont les sentimens de quelqun dts princi- 
 " paux acteurs aprh le dernier ^venemcnt qui 
 ^^ fait cette catastrophe^ — la piece nest pasfiniCy 
 " il y manque encore un dernier trait '." That 
 
 is 
 
 ' Theatre des Grecs, i. 376, 
 
 ^ Critique sur POedipe de Sophocle, 
 
 ' D'Aubignac, Pratique du Theatre, torn. i. p. 126. 
 
 This author, though neither a good writer, nor a deep 
 
 4 scholar^ 
 
 NOTES. 47 
 
 is to say, in Aristotle^ language, a drama so con- 
 cluded, (as the Oedipus Tyrannus would be, if it 
 ended with the fourth act,) would want the true 
 TfAfUTfj, or ew^— that, after which, axxo Hit 
 nE<^TKEN o'vui. 
 
 NOTE 60. 
 
 P. 123. Whether it be an animal, &c. 
 
 KKKot Tooe ys cifjLou (tb (pctvoci dv ^bip, 'ttocvtoc 
 Xoyov 'XlSriEP ZflON cuvBg-otvociy (rufjuec rt 
 IxovToc otVTov ocvTfs' ci^B fjLifiTB AKEOAAON Bhoci 
 ^ifjTB AnOTN, «XXa MEIA tb Ix^tv, km AKPA, 
 
 Plato, in Pbadro, p, 264, ed. Ser, 
 NOTE 61. 
 
 P. 123. Beauty consists in magnitude 
 
 AND ORDER. 
 
 There is something singular, something, at 
 least, not quite consonant to modern ideas, in the 
 great stress which the antients appear to have laid 
 • upon 
 
 scholar, has collected in this book a good deal of curious 
 theatrical erudition, and made some acute and judicious 
 observations on the rules of dramatic writing. He was 
 unfortunate when he attempted to put his theory into 
 practice by writing a Tragedy. «< Je S9ais bon grc/' 
 said the great Conde, '' a I'Abbe D'Aubignac d'avoir 
 " suivi les regies d'Aristote, mais je ne pardonne pas aux 
 « regies d'Aristote, d'avoir fait faire une si mauvaisc 
 '* Tragedie a T Abbe D^Aubignac,*' 
 
4l NOTES. 
 
 upon size, as a necessary constituent of beauty 
 in the human form. They seem, indeed, to have 
 despised every thing that was not large ; and to 
 have estimated beuuty, not by measure only, but 
 by weight also. *' Magnanimity," says the Phi- 
 losopher in his Ethics, " consists in greatness of 
 " soul, as beauty also consists in gr^eatJiess of body. 
 " Little men may be called «rf»oi, and (ruju^fT^oi, 
 " pretty, and well-shaped, but not KAAOI, hand" 
 
 9 
 
 " some, or beautiful^.'* 
 
 That magnitude should have entered, as essen- 
 tial, into their idea of a handsome man, is not 
 surprising. The utility of strength, and the con- 
 nection between strength and size, is sufficient to 
 account for tliis. But what appears most singular 
 is, that they insist no less upon the importance of 
 magnitude to femak beauty. — 0HAEIX1N h d^im, 
 
 o-w/xar®^ fjLBV, xaAA^ x<X( MErE0O2 \ lioMER 
 
 seldom omits size in his descriptions of this kind. 
 
 KxkXi} t6 MEFAAH t€, tcou ayhsLa \^ aJJuia. 
 
 Od.O. 416. 
 
 Nor let it be objected, that this praise comes from 
 a swine-herd ; for Eurymachus, a suitor, and a 
 couitier, compliments Penelope, by telling her, 
 
 that 
 
 • Ethic. Nicom, lib. iv. cap. 3. 
 
 ^ Rhet» i. cap, v.— Xenophon, describing Panthea, says 
 
 — ^iwryxf 'jr^w fJtef, rm MErE0EI, w«t« ^i, Tf 
 
 *PaMHi, &c. Cyropad, Uh. v. initk. 
 
 NOTES. 49 
 
 that she wa^ more accomplished i?i mind, hand- 
 somer, and LARGER, than other women : 
 - - - tTTBi TrepiBcro'i yvvociX,uv 
 EiS^ T6, MEFEeOi: T6, Ih (p^Bvocg Iv^ou ll'(roi;. 
 
 Od. 2. 248. 
 And, indeed, when Minerva, that Penelope 
 might fascinate the suitors, anointed her with the 
 cosmetic wash of Venus, and gave a supernatural 
 heightening to all her charms, at the same timo 
 that she made her skin " whiter than ivo?y,'' she 
 made her also '' taller and stouter.'' 
 
 X^aroci, BUT ocv tv Xot^iruiv %ofloy IfjLBpoBvroc' 
 Koci i^iv MAKPOTEPHN KAI DASIONA 
 Gtjkbv ISecrGoci, 
 
 Ibid, 190. 
 Thus, too, of the daughters of Pandarus : 
 
 Hfif S ecvTi^(nv ttb^i ttcktbuv Sukb yvvcctzuv 
 EtS(^ xai ^ivvTfiv, MHKO2: S' Itto^" A^TSf^ig 
 
 "^y^^^ Od. $. 6. 
 
 When Penelope, in the beginning of the twenty- 
 first book, goes to fetch the key of the repository, 
 where the bow of Ulysses was kept. Homer de- 
 scribes her as taking hold of the key with her 
 " stout hand:'' 
 
 'EiXbto (?6 jcXfiiS" BVKX[4.7reoc XEIPI nAXEIHi. 
 
 Od 4^. 6. 
 VOL. II. E —which 
 
I' 
 
 50 NOTES. 
 
 — which Ernestus, vvlio allows, that, " marm 
 " crassd, 72on bmh conveiiit femince- pulchrce et 
 " rcgince^^' would fain soften down into the main 
 potelee of the French. 
 
 QuintiHan observes of Zeuxis, who drew the 
 heads and limbs of his figures very large, that, 
 in this, he followed Homer, " cui validissima 
 *^ quceqiie formay etiam in fceminisy placet f and, 
 that he did this, " id ampUus atqfie augustius 
 " ratus^:'' and, indeed, these ideas of the antients 
 relative to beauty, both male and female, seem to 
 have been owing, in part, at least, to their ideas 
 of that majesty and dignity, which they consi- 
 dered as essential attributes of their divinities, 
 and which imply superior size and strength. To 
 tell a lady that she was taller and stouter than 
 most of her sex, was a great compliment : it was 
 comparing her to a goddess. 
 
 It seems, then, tliat Shakspeare, in the quarrel 
 between Helena and Hermia in his Midsummer 
 Nigkfs Dream, has, without knowing it, made 
 Hermia perfectly classical in her resentment, and 
 Lysander, in his reproaches : 
 
 Her. Puppet! Why so? — Ay, that way 
 goes the game. 
 Now I perceive that she hath made compare 
 Between om statures; she hatli urged her height , 
 And with her personage, her tall personage. 
 
 Her 
 
 « XII. 10. 
 
 NOTES. 5x 
 
 Her height, forsooth, she hath prevailed with )iim. 
 
 Her. Little again ?— nothing but low and 
 little ? 
 
 Why will you suffer her to flout me thus ? 
 Let me come to her. - - - 
 
 Lys. Get you gone, you dwarf, 
 You minimus of hind 'ring knot-grass made. 
 You bead, you acorn ! - - - Jet iii. Scene 8. 
 
 41' 
 
 NOTE 62. 
 
 P. 123. No VERY MINUTE ANIMAL CAN 
 
 BE BEAUTIFUL NOR ONE OF A PROPI- 
 
 CIOUS SIZE. 
 
 I am by no means perfectly satisfied of the 
 integrity of this passage; but no better com- 
 ment can, I think, be given upon it, as it stands, 
 than that of Beni. — " Non priora [i. e. quee 
 " vald^ pusilla,] quia eorum spectatio [6euj^ix] 
 momento pen^ temporis fiat, ac propterea spec- 
 tatio ipsa confundatur;— quod est, tantd celeri- 
 *' tate comprehendantur ac vcluti absorbeantur 
 partes omnes, ut non liceat partem h parte, ut 
 caput k thorace, interaoscere, atque adeo partes 
 conferre mutud, symmetriamque et proportio- 
 nem agnoscere et astimare,— Non poster iora, 
 [1. e. valdfe magna,] cjuia, h contrario, in tain 
 ingenti nK)le ac magnitudine, partium multitudo 
 
 •E 2 «* cognitionem 
 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 (6 
 
 ti 
 
 it 
 
 It 
 
 it 
 
52 ^ N O T E S. 
 
 *' cpgnitionem impediat, quae non possit simul * 
 " [*/**] lii»l>C'ri: dam tmm spectatiu\una^ prop- 
 " ter (Iktantiam deperit et evancmt [olx^rxi] 
 " cogriitio alterhis] it a tit unum et totum non 
 " appareat animal'' [Benii Comm, i?i Aristot. 
 Poet. p. 20^.1 
 
 Tlie reader may, after this, be amused with 
 seeing what strange work Lord Shattsbury has 
 made with this passage in his explatiqtoi^y transla- 
 tion »f it. Essay on the freedom of ft it and 
 Humour, Part IV. Sect, 3. 
 
 NOTE 6^. 
 
 P. 123. Easily comprehended by the 
 
 EYE, &C, 
 
 ETXTNOnTON — No words furnish a more 
 striking proof of the richness, compression, force, 
 and convenience, of the Greek language, than 
 those which Aristotle here uses; — luVuyoTTToi/, tu- 
 /uvujixoyfUTov, <ruk^TjX^. The reader needs only see 
 to what a feeble length of periphrastic wire-draw- 
 ing a translator is reduced, if he would give their 
 full value : Easily comprehended by the eye, — 
 '* Que fceil puisse comprendre et mesurer aisement 
 *' et tout dun coup,'' [Dacier.] " Qui puisse 
 " ^tre saisi d'un mhue coup d^oeil,'' [Batteux; the 
 most compressed of all Aristotle's translators.] 
 " Un tout ensemble oil la vue ne segare point.'* 
 [^Jlarmontel, Poetique Fr. Pref] 
 
 Of 
 
 NOTES. 53 
 
 Of the same kind are the words, EvsTraycoXahrov 
 — " such as the it nder standing can easily follow 
 " and keep jip with^ :" ivava7rk£ur^, — of a period, 
 " that does not put one out of breath ^'' 
 
 NOTE 64. 
 
 P. 124. If a hundred Tragedies, &c. 
 
 The supposition oi a hundred Treiged\cs per- 
 formed in concurrence seems merely to be a sort 
 of hyperbolical fing at the known intemperance 
 of the Athenian people with respect to theatrical 
 exhibitions ; and Dacier has rightly, I think, ac- 
 counted for this " exuberantia orationis," as 
 Victorius calls it *. 
 
 But Dacier, and the Abbe Batteux after him, 
 make Aristotle's expression too hyperbolical for 
 hyperbole itself, when they translate, " S'il falloit 
 '* jouer cent Tragedies en un jour," For if the 
 Tragedies were only half an hour long, and played 
 without intermission, they would have required a 
 day oi fifty hours. We must understand, surely, 
 with Beni, " Si centum Tragoediae, verbi gratis, 
 " totis illis spectaculorum diebus recitandae pro- 
 *' ponerentur •* ;" which will still leave hyperbole 
 etiough. 
 
 Dacier. 
 
 * Rhet. I. ii. p. 517. b Ibid, III. ix. p. §92. 
 • "" Quis enim non intelligit banc (i.e. iHa,TOv"V^aryc^ia^) 
 cxuberantiam orationis esse ? VicU in locum, 
 
 •^ Comment, p. 21J. 
 
 E3 
 
r * 
 
 Ji 
 
 If. 
 
 54 NOTES. 
 
 Dacier is also mistaken, I believe, in concluding, 
 from what Aristotle says, that it was once an esta- 
 blished custom with the Greeks to regulate the 
 length of Tragedies by the clepsydra^ or hour-glass. 
 His expression seems to imply at Itast, tliat it had 
 been rarely practised, if it does not, as M. Battcux 
 thinks, imply some doubt, whether it had been done 
 
 at all : — ua-Tn^ iron xa* ocWon $A2I. - 
 
 Thus mucli, however, as to the limited length 
 of these performances, we may easily conceive ; 
 that when, to gratify the immoderate fondness of 
 the Athenians for the drama, an uncommon num- 
 ber of Tragedies were exhibited in concurrence, 
 and the contending Poets were apt to encroach 
 upon the patience of the audience, by lengthening 
 out their pieces in order to shew off themselves, or 
 their actors % the Lord Chamberlain of these exhi- 
 bitions might be obliged, in compliance with the 
 clamours of the people, to confine the representation 
 of each drama to sotne limited time. 
 
 NOTE 65. 
 P. 124. A Fable is not one merely 
 
 BECAUSE THE HeRO OF IT IS ONE. 
 
 Mr. Hume, in his Essay on the association of 
 ideas, represents this passage of Aristotle as con- 
 trary to the doctrine he there lays down, and 
 which is unquestionably true— that *' in all pro- 
 
 " ductions, 
 
 * See cap, ix. TransL F\n II. Stxt. 7. 
 
 NOTES. 55 
 
 " ductions, as well as in the Epic and Tragic, a 
 " certain unity is required," &c. — and, " that the 
 '' unity of action which is to be found in biography 
 " or history, differs from that of Epic Poetry, not 
 " in kind, but in degree." I see here no contra- 
 riety at all. Aristotle certainly did not mean 
 to say, that a biographical Poem, if I may so term 
 it, (a Poem Trf^i Iva,) has no unity, 7io relation of 
 cause and effect, &c. to connect the incidents ; 
 but only, that it has not that degree of unity, 
 which is requisite for the purpose of Tragic, or 
 even Epic, Poetry. Mr. Hume himself allows, that 
 Poetry ** requires a stricter and closer unity in the 
 fable;" and this is all that Aristotle appears to 
 mean. The persons censured by him for con- 
 cluding, that, " because Hercules was one, so also 
 '* must be the fable, of which he was the subject," 
 were right enough, as philosophers, but as poets, 
 certainly wrong. 
 
 This chapter, in which Aristotle considers so 
 particularly the unity of fable, as distinct from its 
 totality, led me once to think it probable, that the 
 word fj.iag was originally in the definition of Tra- 
 gedy, cap. vi. as we find it afterwards in cap, xxiii. — 
 vri^i MIAN TT^a^iv oA»k xa« nXuocv, But perhaps 
 the supposition is unnecessary, and unity may be 
 sufficiently implied in the words nXuocg xai Ixnq : 
 'OAOTHTOr, as he elsewhere says, 'ENOTHT02 
 TIN02 'orZHZ. Metaph. lib, v. cap. 26. 
 
 E4 
 
56 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 66. 
 
 p. 125. Either from art, or genius. 
 Hto* ^ix TBx^r.v, H AlA ^TXIN. — It appears from 
 this, as well as from other passages of Aristotle's 
 treatise, that in the midst of all the coldness of 
 philosophical investigation and analysis, he never 
 lost sight of the difference between that sponta- 
 neous operation of genius and feeling in the Poet, 
 which produces poetic beauty, and the slow and 
 cautious process of calm examination and inquiry 
 m the CJritic, whose business it is to discover it 
 principles. It is not every philosophical critic 
 that avoids this error. Notliing is more common, 
 than to suppose that to have been produced by art 
 and reflection, about xvhich, when produced, art 
 and reflection have been employed *. Thus lan- 
 guages, we are told, must have been originally 
 formed by art, because they cannot be analysed 
 without art: Grammarians and Philosophers must 
 have formed language, because language has 
 formed Grammarians and Philosophers. 
 
 note 67. 
 P. 1 25. But he co:aiPREHENDED those only 
 
 •which HAVE relation TO ONE ACTION, &C. 
 
 OJuo-o-fiav yok^ -rroiuifj ax i^^o^f](^£y ATroLyjo, Ua, auVw 
 rxiViW — AAA* *A TTi^i fciak TT^aJiv, oiatv XiyofAtv my 
 
 * See Liss. 1. vol. i. p. 8. nou \ 
 
 NOTES. 57 
 
 O^vtTtruccv, 2YNE2TH2AN. So the text stands. 
 
 " Non cecinit omnia sed quce circa unam 
 
 " solam actionem, qualem Odysseam dicimus, con- 
 " stiterunt.'" [Goulston.] Victorius reads, AAAA, 
 and STNEITHXEN ; but does injustice, I think, 
 to his own reading, by his construction and his 
 version: wi^i fxiav n^x^iv — (r\iviiri\(Tiv \ '' circa unam 
 ''^actionem — MA^HiT.'' This is, surely, very 
 harsh. I should punctuate, and translate, thus :— 
 
 aAAa ns^i fMiuv n^a.^iy^ liav Xsyofxiv, tiji; 0^\j(r(rnay 
 . (Tvyirmiy' ofxom; is xa* mv IXia^x. [sc. (ruyirtio-fy]. 
 
 *' Sed circa unam actionem, qualem dicimus, Odys- 
 *' seam constituit ; pariterque Iliadem:'--'' But he 
 " planned his Odyssey, as he also did his Iliad, 
 . '' upon an action, that is one, in the sense here 
 " explained."— And that this is the true readincr, 
 and the true sense, of the passage, I was once tho- 
 roughly persuaded. The construction of tlie whole 
 is, thus, clear and natural. The circumstance of 
 the plural verb (rui/ir^<rav with the plural neuter, a, 
 is avoided; and the word (rui/fr»i(r£v retains its 
 proper and usual sense, as applied, throughout, by 
 Aristotle, to the composition, or construction, of the 
 rable. So, cap. ix. (rur»i<rakTif tov juuSoi/. c<7/). xvii. 
 and xxiu. — raf ^uSa? (Tui/ira^ai — et passim. I will 
 not, however, dissemble what is against me. The 
 reading dxx' «, besides its support from MSS. 
 answers better to the aVavra oVa, which precedes : 
 
 oux jVei>j(r4v AIIANTA oVa auVw <r\)yiZn AAA* *A 
 
 »«f * /A. w. 8cc. But, if «M' a be retained, the pas- 
 sage, 
 
58 NOTES. 
 
 sage, I think, should stand thus :— aAX' d Tnpi fxiocif 
 
 TT^a^iv, [sc. sr*,] o*av Xiyoiutv rny 0^u<r<ruav, 2TNE2- 
 
 TH2EN *. According to the construction of Pic- 
 colomini : — quelle cose accolse, ch' al corpo d una 
 attione, la qual chiamiamo Odissea, servissero : — 
 and the Abb6 Batteux — ** II a rapproch6 tout ce 
 qui tenoit k une seule action." — (ruvtrn(rev « ^i^* 
 fA,iocv TT^ocJ^iv : i. e. composed his fable of those cir- 
 cumstances only, which relate to one action. Thus, 
 immediately after — rx MEPH DTNIZTANAI rwy 
 
 Unwilling to make alterations that do not appear 
 absolutely necessary, I have followed this last 
 reading; though with some remaining partiality to 
 my first conjecture. That the sense would be 
 clearer, and the construction less elliptical and em- 
 barrassed, is certain. But I am afraid this is but 
 
 a questionable 
 
 * I cannot reconcile the commentary of Victorius on 
 this passage with his text and his version. His text stands 
 thus: a»a. Trt^i fjuav T^aiiv, oiaof XsyofASv njv O^ua-a-Biav, 
 vvnTuvrtv, His version is — " Verum circa unam actionem, 
 ** qualem dicimus Odysseam mansit,** — But, in his re- 
 marks, he translates exactly as if he had read and under- 
 stood the passage in the way here proposed. " Verum 
 " qu^ circa unam actionem, qualem Odysseam vocamus, 
 ** consiituit.'' — And, ** Qu^e circa unam, autcm, actionem 
 coagmentasie inquit Homerum.*'— Again — " Quare 
 vere dici potest, ipsum complexum fuisse, qua circa illam 
 actionem^'' Nor does he give, in his commentary, any 
 other version, or explanation, or mention a word about 
 the change of «M* a into oMa, which he had adopted in 
 his text. 
 
 4( 
 
 li 
 
 «( 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 59 
 
 a questionable proof of corruption in the writings 
 of Aristotle. 
 
 NOTE 68. 
 
 P. 126. The whole avill be destroyed, 
 
 OR CHANGED. 
 
 Destroyed, if any part be taken away, (a>a*^a. 
 /x£ya)— disturbed or changed, if it be transposed 
 ([xiTa,Tiii[xsyii). In the first case it will be no lontrer 
 a whole ; in the last, not the same whole. This 
 seems the meaning, as it is well rendered by 
 M. Batteux : <' Que les parties en soient tellement 
 '' liees entre elles, qu'unc seule transpos^e, ou 
 '' retranchee, ce ne soil plus un tout, ou le m6me 
 " tout." — But I cannot think ^ioc(ps^i<rioci right. It 
 is rendered by Goulston, " diversum reddatur, et 
 " moveatur, totum." So Piccolomini, " flf/t?^r^o — - 
 " e mutato," &c. But, besides the manifest tau- 
 tology, I doubt whetlier there be any good authority 
 for this sense of the verb ^ioc<piptcr9oci — i. e. to be 
 made different, or changed. At least I have not 
 found any instance of it in Aristotle's writings. If 
 we retain (Tiaf i^£(r6a*, it must, I think, be taken in 
 the sense of discerpi, distrahi, &c. But I am 
 almost persuaded, that Aristotle wrote AIA<^0EI- 
 PE20AI, spoiled, or destroyed. So in his Topics, 
 <&©ElPEieAI TO 'OAON. ml. i. p. 258. K cd. 
 Duval. 
 
6o 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 6i 
 
 NOTE 69. 
 
 P. 127. Possible, according to pro- 
 bable, OR NECESSARY, CONSEQUENCE. 
 
 Compare cap. XV. X^n $i xa* Iv rot; »f9i<rty. x.T.aA. — 
 
 [Transl. Part II. Sect. 15. p. 144*.] The expres- 
 sion, ^vyotra, xoltx rodyxyxotioy, ** possible ac- 
 
 " cording to necessity," appears strange at the first 
 glance: but in fiction, events mayibe supposed to 
 happen, as in real life they do happen, not only 
 probably, but necessarily ; that is, not only as they 
 were likely to happen, but as, morally speaking, 
 they could not but happen.—" Puisque la fonction 
 " du vraisemblable dans la Tragedie, est d em- 
 '' p6cher Tesprit de s appercevoir de la feinte, le 
 " vraisemblable qui le trompe le mieux est le plus 
 " parfait, et c est celui qui devient necessaire. Un 
 '' caractere etant suppost, il y a des effets qu'il doit 
 " necessairement produire, et d autres qu'il peut 
 " produire, ou ne produire pas." Again — " La 
 '' perfection est de faire agir les personnages, de 
 " maniere qu'ils nayent pas pu agir autrement, 
 *' leur caractere suppos^," &c. Thus Fontenelle, 
 in his excellent Reflexions sur la Poetigue ; in 
 several parts of which, that clear and philosophical 
 writer has, I believe without any such intention, 
 coincided vyith, and illustrated, the positions of 
 Aristotle.— See particularly, S^ct. 58, to 65, in- 
 clusively. 
 
 • Vol. i. of this Edit. 
 
 NOTE 70. 
 
 Pi 127. A SPECIES OF HISTORY — . 
 
 'Iro^tx Til — " a sort of history." It is sin- 
 gular, that almost all the translators should have 
 neglected a word so important as the pronoun is 
 in this passage. May we not infer from this ex- 
 pression, that if Aristotle had been asked, whether 
 an Epic imitation in prose would be a Poem, or 
 not, he would have allowed it to be, 7roi»)/xa TI, 
 a ki?7d of Poem, as having the essence of Poetry, 
 i?iventio7i and imitation? See note 5. p. 232, &c. 
 of the 1 st volume. 
 
 NOTE 71. 
 
 P. 127. A MORE EXCELLENT THING THAN 
 HISTORY. 
 
 l.int$xiori^ov. It means no more than, in plain 
 English, a better thing. The word occurs fre- 
 quently in Aristotle's works, in this general sense. 
 
 So, Rhet, I. vii. p. 528, B. xa* iv a» imrrif^M 
 xaXAi«f n cva^ocioTi^xi, xa* rot 7r^ecy[xxTX nocWibi xa* 
 <r7r«^aioT£^«. And, ibid. I. ix. p. 531, E. Ka* at 
 
 rm <pM(rit. crTrx^xioTg^uy (superior by nature) d^iTXk 
 
 xxXXisg, xai ra i^yx' oioy dyS^^ [sc. crinsaaioTs^xi «» 
 
 ftfixat, &c.] ^ yvyxix^. — See, also, Ethic. Nicom, 
 
 lib, VI. cap. Vll. p. 78, C. droTToy yxo t\ rtf rriy 
 
 iTTirnfinv TroXinxriy SIIOTAAIOTATHN olsrxi 
 
 fii^a», il fxn TO APIXTON ruy iv rca xoa-fAu dyi^uTxr^ 
 
 Dacier 
 
}4 
 
 62 NOTES. 
 
 Dacier translates the word, " 7norale;' Batteux, 
 " instructive ;" but this is rather giving the reason 
 xvhjj it is (TzjHtxioTs^ou, or, a superior thinw. 
 
 NOTE 72. 
 
 P. 127. Is NOT, LIKE THE IamBIC PoETS 
 PARTICULAR AND PERSONAL. 
 
 la^poTT-otoi.— Strictly, the writers of the ^oyoi or 
 satirical invectives that preceded Comedy. [See 
 cap. iv. TransL Part I. Sect, 6.] But I believe 
 Aristotle meant here to include, at least, the au- 
 tliors of the first rude Comedy, " of the Iambic 
 ''fmnn—" tuc la^pixi,? *7£a?. See cap. v. Transl 
 Part I. Sect. 8. 
 
 It appears, that the Poem called U^^^, what- 
 ever it was, was represented, or acted, as well as 
 Tragedy and the Epic : for, in his seventh book 
 Dt Rep. cap. xvii. the philosopher forbids boys to 
 be spectators of Iambi and Comedies : — tk? h 
 vf«Tf^8? 8T lAMBHN, in xufAtJioc^ GEATAS vofAO- 
 ^irfiriO¥, TTfiv n — x.r.dx. p. 448, E. 
 
 NOTE 73. 
 
 P. 128. What has never actually hap- 
 pened, WE ARE NOT APT TO REGARD AS 
 POSSIBLE. 
 
 This must be restiicted to those extraordinary 
 actions and events, of public and elevated per- 
 sonages, which usually make the subject of 
 5 ' Tragedy. 
 
 NOTES. 63 
 
 Tragedy. The best comment I have seen, or 
 that, I think, can be given, on this passage, is that 
 of Piccolomini ; but it is so long, that I can only 
 refer to it \ We have, however, the substance of 
 it in the following observation of Brumov. — '* La 
 ** Tragedie ne s est point sous-divis^e" (as Comedy, 
 he observes, had been,) '' en Tragedie reelle, et 
 Tragedie de pure imagination. Je crois en trou- 
 ver la raison dans la nature de lesprit humain. 
 II n y a que la vraisemblance dont il puisse 
 " ^tre touch^. Or il n est pas vraisemblable qua 
 des faits aussi grands que ceux de la Tracxedie, 
 des faits qui n arrivent que dans les maisons des 
 rois, ou dans le sein des e?npires, soient abso- 
 lument inconnus. Si done le Poete invente 
 tout son sujet, jusq aux noms, Tesprit du 
 spectateur se revolte ; tout lui paroit incroyable 
 et la piece manque son effet, faute de vrai- 
 semblance. Mais comme la Comedie ne 
 touche que la vie commune et ses ridicules, le 
 spectateur peut supposer et suppose en effet 
 en se laissant aller k Tenchantement du spec- 
 tacle, que le sujet qu on lui presente est un fait 
 r^el, quoiqu' il ne le connoisse pas. linen 
 " seroit pas de mhne, si le sujet comique avoit du 
 ** vieroeilleua;^*' 
 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 ti 
 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 il 
 
 <( 
 
 a 
 
 <( 
 
 iC 
 
 ti 
 
 C( 
 
 (( 
 
 <( 
 
 ii 
 
 iC 
 
 * Annotationiy Sec. p, 141, &c. 
 
 * Theatre des Grecs, i. />. 207. 
 
 
64 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 74. 
 
 P. 128. A Poet should be a Poet or 
 Maker of fables, rather than of verses. 
 
 So Plato, almost in the same words ^ — iwona-ocg 
 
 MreOTX, a AX' « AOTOri.— Phadon, p. 61, 
 ed. Serr. 
 
 NOTE 75. 
 
 P. 128-9. N^^ I^ HE THE LESS A PoET, 
 THOUGH THE INCIDENTS OF HIS FABLE SHOULD 
 CHANCE TO BE SUCH AS HAVE REALLY HAP- 
 PENED, &C. 
 
 The original, as it stands, (for I doubt of its 
 integrity,) is very ambiguous and obscure. The 
 sense I wished to give it, is this : " Nor will he 
 " be the less a Poet, though he should found his 
 " Poem upon fact : for nothing hinders, but that 
 " some real events may be such,'' as to admit of 
 " Poetic probability ; and he who gives them 
 " this probability, and makes them such, as 
 " Poetry requires, is so far entitled to the name 
 ^' of Poefy or Inventor.^' 
 
 And thus, indeed, the passage is explained by 
 Robortelli and some other commentators: and 
 Casaubon seems to have so understood it ; for, 
 
 quoting the words x* «v a^« (ru/txC« yivofAtvx vomVf 
 
 x.T.«x. — he says, *' ad ea solium dramata refe- 
 
 ** rendum, 
 
 c< 
 
 NOTES. 65 
 
 rendum, quorum hypothesis ab historic est; ut 
 " Persarum .Eschyli : fabulae ver6 totius a-vp^stng 
 " ab ingenio Poetae'." I do not, however, see 
 how this sense can be fairly extracted from the 
 words, as they now stand. That which I have 
 given in my translation, and which was first sug- 
 gested to me by the word (ru^;3w. I was afterwards 
 glad to find supported by the opinion of Vic- 
 tonus. 
 
 The expression~ai/ STMBHi ysvofxim iroinv, 
 
 " if he should happen^' &c. is very strong, and 
 hardly applicable to a Poet chimng a true story 
 for the outline of his fable. It indicates acci- 
 dental coincidence with truth. The word f^a«, 
 also, is on the same side :— " may fo," does not 
 suit the sense above given, which requires, " may 
 '* become" — may be made such by the Poet ; not, 
 " may be such," in themselves, which is the ob- 
 vious meaning of Tojaura EINAI. Farther; Aris- 
 totle has just told us, th?ii probability is the Poet's 
 province, and yet, at the same time, that Trage- 
 dies were usually founded, and should, in general 
 be founded, on historical foct. Now it would, 
 surely, be rather strange, after all this, to say, 
 " nothing hindc7-s, but that some real events may 
 " be made to hare poetic probability :"—«Vfj^ 
 
 X. T. aA. 
 
 But, 
 
 * De Satyricd, &c, p. 345. 
 VOL. ir. F 
 
66 NOTES. 
 
 But, to the interpretation which I have preferred, 
 these expressions are all exactly suitable, and thq 
 meaning and connection of the whole seems to be 
 this: — Aristotle had been opposing Poetry to 
 fact: he had said expressly, that the yfvo/xfi/* 
 were the peculiar province of the historian ; the 
 iiA dy ygyoiro^ and the flx^, of the Poet. An 
 objector, misapprehending, or misrepresenting, 
 his meaning, might have urged — '* the incidents 
 " of tliis or that Poet have actually happened ; 
 " they are yivo/x«ya ; and therefore, according to 
 " your own doctrine, not proper for Poetry, nor 
 " the work of a Poet,'* — To this Aristotle an- 
 swers, that, though the object of the Poet be not 
 truth, yet his invented probabilities may coincide 
 with truth : and real events, even of the Tragic 
 and extraordinary kind, mai/ have happened as 
 probably and naturally as he has supposed them 
 to happen. He is still, therefore, no less a Poet ; 
 not only as having actually invented the incidents, 
 but as having invented them with true Poetic pro- 
 bability. — And thus Victorius : — " Non omnes 
 " eos — qui fortuitd incidant in res quae exitum 
 " jam habuerint, in culpii esse ; quia fieri possit, 
 " ut res aliquae factcBy ita lactae sint, ut verisi- 
 " mile sit illas factas esse ; et esse denique ejus- 
 " modi, ut effici potuerint; quo nomine (inquit,) 
 ille Poeta eorum aliquo modo est: officium 
 enim Poetae est, verisiuiile sectari, et ea qu» 
 " effici possunt sumere : quod in illis rebus illo 
 
 " modo 
 
 <c 
 
 C( 
 
 NOTES. 67 
 
 ** modo factis non desideratur. Retinet igitur, 
 " h^c de causa, nomen Poetag.'' I confess, in- 
 deed, that the passage is, in this way, nothing 
 more than an answer to a senseless cavil. But 
 such cavils, we know, the sophists of those times ^ 
 did not disdain to make, nor Aristotle always 
 disdain to answer. See cap, xxv. TraiisL 
 Part IV. 
 
 NOTE 76. 
 
 P. 129. Of simple Fables, the Episodic 
 
 ARE THE WORST. 
 
 Why, of simple fables — azs-Awv /au9«v ? as if the 
 fault here noticed were peculiar to the simple 
 fable ; that is, as the term is defined in the io\r 
 lowing chapter, the fable that is without revolution 
 or discovery. But surely this could not be Aris- 
 totle's meaning. Something, I am persuaded, is 
 wrong: but I have no probable conjecture to 
 offer; unless it may be thought probable, that 
 AIIANTIIN, abbreviated perhaps by the tran- 
 scriber, might be mistaken for AFIAnN. What 
 Dacier says in his note is ingenious and true ; but 
 by no means, I think, fully accounts for Aristotle's 
 expression, which implies more, than that these 
 unconnected Episodes, " se rencontrent plus 
 " ordinairemait dans les fables simples." 
 
 Victorius 
 
 ^ Su<ii a': Protagoras, Euclid, Aiphrades, mentioned 
 hereafter ux this ircaube. 
 
 F 2 
 
 
Ti 
 
 68 N O. T E S. 
 
 Victorius states the difficulty fairly, and only 
 asks, with a modesty which inferior critics often 
 want, " Jn valet quicquam ad eum (scrupulum) 
 " evellendum, quod Tragoedia simplex su^ sponte 
 ** non vald^ elegans est; cui si accesserit hoc 
 '* vitium, ment6 deterrima vocari potest ? " — For 
 my own part, I must answer in the negative. This 
 idea has been adopted by Goulston, and Le Bossu. 
 They make Aristotle say — " Simple fables are not 
 *^ so £rood as complca:, and simple fables that are 
 *' Episodic, are the worst of all." — This is to 
 supply a meaning, not to find one. 
 
 For the sense of Episodes here, see note 37, 
 in the 1st volume. 
 
 NOTE 77. 
 
 p. 129. In order to accommodate their 
 
 PIECES to the purposes OF RIVAL PER- 
 FORMERS, &C. 
 
 That actors, as well as Poets, contended for 
 the prize in these Tragic games, or oiyuy^, might 
 be sufficiently proved by a single passage in the 
 Et/iics of Aristotle, where, explaining the difference 
 between •sr^oai^io-K, and paXuo-*?, he says, " we maf 
 zvill, or desire, things not at all in our own power 
 to effect ; as, tliat such a particular actor may 
 gain the prize :" — vzrox^nw nyx wxav, >J a9A?)Tiiv'. 
 
 The 
 
 <( 
 
 (( 
 
 « 
 
 * htinc. Nicom. Ill iv. ed. Duval, p. 30. 
 
 Ay«wr«— '01 THOIO'ITAI. Hctych. 
 
 NOTES. 69 
 
 The reader may also see a passage in the Rhetoric, 
 lib. iii. cap. i. which throws some illustration upon 
 this passage, by shewing the great importance of 
 the players at that time, and the dependance ot tlie 
 Poets upon them: for Aristotle there says of 
 these dramatic contests, that, «« ;uf,^«. ,r.^«.r«. 
 
 NTN rm toihtw^ a. Jsroxf ira. ; " the actors, nou', 
 
 " have greater power— are more regarded, and 
 " of more importance to the success of the 
 " dramas— than the Poets." A revolution some- 
 what similar is recorded by Plutarch to have 
 happened between the later Dithyrambic Poets 
 and their auAjira., or flute-players : — to yaa 
 
 wc.flT,i», (Tvix^e^nKu, T8! ATAHTAS w^tfa not 
 »omT&.i-Aa/*/3awit.T8?n*iirfi8f, nPflTAmNIDTOTZHS 
 ^nAovoT. TH2 nomZEilX, r<oy r «JA,ra,. TnHPE- 
 TOTNTriN T„t J.<r«^x«Ao,f Jrsfov ii [i.e. when, 
 as he says, the music of the flute became more 
 complicated, refined, and difficult,] xa, t«t9 
 Ju?9«f, ^ But all this is nothing, to what we 
 have heard of the modern despotism sometimes 
 exercised by great opera singers over the com- 
 posers. 
 
 The eflSjct which this influence of the players 
 might have, ia lengthening and disuniting the 
 action, according to Aristotle's complaint here, may 
 be easily imagined. Castelvetro observes, with 
 great probability, of these ill-connected i=^«,o.^«,-. 
 " £, per- 
 
 ^' De Muiifa. ed. H. St. p. 2991. 
 
 »-3 
 
10 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 " E, peraventura, queste digression! fatte per 
 
 " compiacere i rappresentatori, riguardavaiio piil 
 
 " k qudlo che i i^appresentatori sapevano bene 
 
 " contrafare, che alia materia naturale della 
 ^^ favola; accioche essi mostrassero quelle che 
 
 " valessero, in quello dove erano pin essercitati, 
 
 *' e percio piu agevolmente ottenessero la vit- 
 
 " tona ^ ' Here, too, the musical reader, will be 
 again__ reminded of the privilege so intemperately 
 exercised by modern Italian singers — the lineal 
 descendants, according to some, of the uVox^irai 
 of the Greek Opera — that of setting aside, when- 
 ever they please, both the Poet, and the cowposery 
 by the introduction of such songs, from other 
 operas, as they think most favourable to the display 
 of their peculiar talents. 
 
 The influence of modern actors upon the pro- 
 ductions of the Poet, is, perhajis, not less than 
 that of the antient; but it seems to be exerted 
 most frequently in a contrary way, though one 
 full as likely to spoil the i<pi^f}^ of the piece — that 
 
 of 
 
 *^ Poet. d'Arist. p. 2 20. — *' Suuni igitur quisque,*' says 
 Cicero, '' noscac ingenium, acremque se et bonorum et 
 '• vitiorum suorum judicem praebeat; ne scantci plus 
 '* quain nos videantur habere prudently : illi enim, non 
 " optimas, sed sibi accommodatissimas fabulas eligunt ; 
 " qui voce freti sunt, Epigonos, Medumque ; qui gestUj 
 *' Menalippam, Clytsemncstram ; semper Rutilius, quern 
 " ego memini, Antiopam ; non saepe ^sopus Ajacem. 
 *^ Ergo histrio hoc videbit in scaena, non videbit vir sa- 
 " piens In vita?"— Dt- Ojfic, I. 31. 
 
 1^ O T E S. ji 
 
 of lopping. The distress of a Poet on such 
 occasions is represented with true comic force by 
 Mr. Sheridan in his Critic: 
 
 Und. Prompter. 
 
 Sir, the carpenter says it is impossible you can 
 
 go to the park scene yet. , 
 
 Puff. 
 
 The park scene ! no — I mean the description 
 
 scene here, in tlie wood. 
 
 Und. Prompt. 
 
 Sir, the performers have cut it out, &c. 
 
 End of Act II. 
 
 NOTE 78. 
 
 P. 129. Beyond their powers . 
 
 I cannot agree with the commentators, \vho 
 render -uroc^oc mp ^waijuv, " supra id quod ferat ;" 
 — referring ^vmfjuv to the fable itself I think it 
 means ultra vires, beyond the powers of the 
 Poets. And so the Abb6 Batteux — ** audela de 
 sa portee'' 
 
 The greater the length of the fable, the greater, 
 evidently, is the difficulty of filling it up with con- 
 sistent probability; without violating that close 
 connection of incidents, and unity of action, 
 which the rules of Aristode, and the nature of the 
 drama, require. 
 
 F4 
 
n 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 79. 
 
 P. 130. That purpose is best ansm^ered 
 
 BY SUCH events AS ARE NOT ONLY UNEX- 
 PECTED, BUT UNEXPECTED CONSEQUENCES OF 
 EACH OTHER. 
 
 TauTflt $i yiviTOn fxocXifgc touxvtoc, kxl fxoc\Xo¥ iroth 
 
 yiyriroci voc^x rriu ^o^av Ji' dxXnXoi, — This IS cer- 
 tainly corrupt ; nor does it seem easy to form any 
 probable conjecture, how it stood, as Aristotle left 
 it. Whether the words, xa* (xocXXou, be ri^rht or 
 not, they serve, as the text at present stands, only 
 to embarrass a passage, which, if we omit them, 
 seems clear enough, both in construction and 
 meaning. In this I perfectly agree witli the last 
 Oxford editor ; though I think they should not 
 be hastily ejected from the text*. 
 
 The connection and drift of the whole passage 
 seems to me to be this. Aristotle is here recom- 
 mending the close connection of incidents, arising 
 prohublij or necessarily from each other, in a new 
 point of view — as being of great importance, not 
 only to the ujiity of fable, but to the principal 
 objett of Tragedy, the production of terror and 
 pity. For events are best adapted to this pur- 
 pose, most striking and affecting, when they 
 
 happen, not only irct^a rrjy $olav, but iroc^x my 
 
 io^xif aV AAAHAA ; when the wonder arises, not 
 
 ^only 
 
 * Mr. Winstaaley's edit. p. 287. 
 
 NOTES. 73 
 
 only from their happening unexpectedly, but from 
 their being the consequences of events fi'om which 
 no one could have expected them to follow. Thus 
 connected, as cause and effect, they will be more 
 surprising, and consequently more affecting, more 
 terrible or piteous *, than if they appear to happen 
 
 by chance — azaro rn ocvtoixocth )cat t»j? Tup^tj?*- — uxri — 
 
 MET* ccXkmXx only, not Al' dxXriXXj according to 
 the distinction in the next chapter ^ To illustrate 
 this, Aristotle observes, that even events merely 
 fortuitous, are more wonderful and strikinor, when 
 they are such, as in any degree suggest to the 
 spectator an idea of purpose and design; like 
 the accident he mentions of the statue that fell 
 upon the murderer of the person represented by 
 it. — And all this is connected w ith what follows, 
 as well as with what precedes ; evidently pointing 
 to his doctrine about the in^iTnriix in the next 
 chapters. 
 
 NOTE 80. 
 
 P. 130. The STATUE of Mitys, &c. - 
 
 In Plutarch, thus : — xat to M*t»8 ra A^ycia, xara 
 
 TatTiv ai/ai^fOfVT^, xv^^ixvtx ^xXxhv iv ocyoox, iix^ 
 aa-r,;, iiMZJ-i<rtiv tw xT£»v«kTi rov MiTioi/, xxi dveXuv. 
 
 [m^t Twi. ^^xhcog, &c. p. 980. ed. H, StJ] 
 
 ♦ 1 he effect ot surprise, when combined W\i\\ pity or 
 terror, is, to add force to these latter passions, which ne- 
 cessarily predominate in the combination, and to raise the 
 whole feeling to a higher pitch. See Hume's Essay on 
 Tragedy. ^ Qip,x. Aicupe^ei ttoXj. x.t.oX, 
 
74 
 
 P. 130. 
 
 CATKD. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 81. 
 
 Fables — simple, and compli- 
 
 It is high time to discard the technical jargon of 
 impLr tables, used l)y Addison *, and others, after 
 the Frrnch writers. If any authority were requi- 
 site for speaking English, I have that of Mr. Harris, 
 Who renders Aristotle's «7rAo», and fmrXty^ivoi, by 
 simple, and complicated, — Phil. Inq, p. 146. 
 
 NOTE 82. 
 
 P. 130. When its catastrophe is pro- 
 duced WITHOUT EITHER REVOLUTION OR 
 DISCOVERY. 
 
 nrai. — MfxajSacrK, is the Change of fortune which 
 constitutes the catastrophe of the piece. This, 
 which is common to all Tragedy, must not be con- 
 founded with the Us^iviTux, which, however 
 important, is not essential. Le Bossu, Dacier, and 
 others, by not attending to this distinction, have 
 introduced much confusion into one of the clearest 
 parts of Aristotle's work. Thus, Dacier says — 
 *' II appelle fable simple, celle ou il n'y a ni change- 
 " ment cF etat, ni reconnoisance, et dont le denoue- 
 *' ment n'est qu'un simple passage de r agitation 
 " et du trouble au repos et d. la tranquillite'^ 
 
 —He 
 
 * Spectator, N" 297. 
 
 N O T £ S. 75 
 
 — He adopts the language of Le Bossu *. — 
 Undoubtedly, there are Tragedies without a sudden 
 and unexpected reverse of fortune ; but where is 
 the Tragedy, antient or modern, in which there 
 is no ** changement d" etat?'^ This would be no 
 other than a Tragedy without a catastrophe. Thus, 
 these writers take fAiTx^aa-i; to signify the mere 
 passage, progress, or suite, of tlie' piece ^ : whereas 
 it clearly signifies a change; a transition from 
 prosperous to adverse, or at least from adverse to 
 more adverse, fortune, or the contrary ; as Beni has 
 well observed ^ The sense of the word is clearly 
 fixed by other passages ; and in cap. xviii. he ex- 
 pressly makes the /txETajSacif, such a change of 
 forttme as is common to eve?y Tragedy. Er* h 
 
 IIASHS T^ayy^taf, to i^iv, ^t(ng, to hy Kxid^q. — Xiyus 
 h h(ny [xty ilvoLi tdi/ aTJ afp^r? /^^Xf * '^^'^^ "^^ />t«f8? 
 Ic^ixrov iriy, l^ a METABAINEI iU iurv^iocv' 
 Xu(riv (Ti, T»i/ aVo rng a.^X'^'* ^^^^ METABA2EI12 
 
 Mr. Harris, in his PhiloL Inquiries, p. 145, &c. 
 seems to have deserted Aristotle for Le Bossu, who, 
 with little reason, in my opinion, passed with him, 
 as well as with Lord Shaftsbury, for ^'Aristotle's 
 best inteipreter^'' Throughout his chapter on 
 
 this 
 
 * Du Poeme, Ep, 11. 16. 
 
 ^ " Non si prende fjLira^ao'ig in questo luogo per muta- 
 " tione, come credono alcuni, ma per lo processo dell* 
 attione dal principio al fine." Castelvetro, ^. 242. 
 
 ' Comment, p. 255. 
 
 * Treatise On Music^ Painting, &c. p. 83, Note^ 
 
 X 
 
7^ NOTES. 
 
 this subject, above referred to, he appears to me to 
 confound the /*.r«p«^.f, or change, which Aristotle 
 makes essential to all Tragedy, with ihat particular 
 hnd of change which he denominates ir.f .^.t«« : 
 for he uses, repeatedly, the word revolution, (his 
 translation of ^i^i-^tnlx,) ^o express what Aristotle 
 means by ^.T*/3aa-,f, ,.£Ta/3a.K.v, ;ufr«(3*AA«.». He 
 speaks of Othdlo, and Ltar, as complicated fables, 
 and having revolutions. And so, indeed, they 
 have, if we take the word in Aristotle's sense of 
 M«r«|3<,^.f ; I do not see that they have, in his sense 
 of ^i^ivr.Ti^x. In neither of those Tragedies can it, 
 I think, be said, that the catastrophe is produced 
 by a sudden change, to the reverse of xvhat is 
 expected, by the spectator, from the circumstances 
 of the action At least, with respect to Othello, 
 this seems to admit of no dispute. [See the next 
 
 KOTE.] 
 
 The Abb6 Batteux gives, I think very properly, 
 the Polieucte of Corneille, as an example of the 
 simple fable. " La fable simple, qui n' a ni revo- 
 " lution subite, ni reconnoisance ; qui commence, 
 " continue, s'acheve, sans secousses, ni retours 
 " inattendus. Ainsi Polieucte refoit le bapt^me, 
 " son zele lui fait renverser les autels des payens, 
 " il est arrfit^, jug^, mis ;\ mort : c'est unc fable 
 " simple '." 
 
 Victorius, Beni, Piccolomini, and Goulston, 
 agree with me in my idea of this passage, where the 
 ___^_^ words, 
 
 ! Principcs de la Lit. tome iii. p. 84. 
 
 NOTES. yy 
 
 words, (Tuvi^ag xai ^t«c, are not put to characterize 
 the simple fable, as Victorius well observes, but 
 refer merely to that unity and continuity of action, 
 which had been established as necessary to Tra- 
 gedy in general. 
 
 NOTE 83. 
 
 P. 131. A REVOLUTION IS A CHANGE 
 
 INTO THE REVERSE OF WHAT IS EXPECTED 
 FROM THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE ACTION. 
 
 Eg-t Se Ta-e^iwsTBiu pj/, ij slg to Ivocvtiov ruv 
 w^cx,TTOf/,svtov fjLSTct(2oX7j^ x^otQocweo eloriTui. 
 
 The sense of these words has not, I think, been 
 exactly given in any translation I have yet seen, 
 except that of the accurate and judicious Picco- 
 lomini : " La Peripetia intendo io essere una 
 " mutation di fortuna, che (fatta nel modo che 
 " si 6 detto,) accaschi al contrario di quello che 
 " dalle cose ordite aspettar si potesseJ' In literal 
 English—'* When the things that are doing (t« 
 " v^ocTTOfAtvx) have an effect the very reverse of 
 what is expected from them." That this is the 
 meaning, appears plainly from the instance imme- 
 diately subjoined : wVisr^f ev tw Oi^mo^^, U6u)y nx 
 
 ET^PANUN Tov "Oi^iwHiy xa< ol-sraX?^oc^uv m isr^og rrip 
 /AJiT£^a (po(iiSy $nXu)(Ttxq ofi; iv T'OTNANTION 
 EnOIHSE. As the words-^ ,U to cW.rio. r^, 
 v^xT. fA.tr. are rendered by Dacier, and others— 
 '' chimgement de Jortwie en une fortune con- 
 '' traire'— they express nothing but what is com- 
 mon 
 
 €C 
 
 ti 
 
7? NOTES. 
 
 mon to Tragedy in general ; and -srif imrna m 
 confounded with /xfraiSao-K. [See last note.] But, 
 it is well observed by Piccolomini, *' Non s' hi, 
 " parimente, da intendere, quando diciamo la pe- 
 ** peripetia esser mutation di fortuna, ogni sorte di ' 
 " mutatione da una condltione e stato di fortuna 
 " ad un altro ; jion potendo esser Tragedia alcuna 
 " in cui qualche cos} fatta mutatione non si ri- 
 " trovi." [p. 167.] In the usual way of translating 
 the passage, a circumstance essential to the srif i- * 
 •crnux is entirely omitted in the definition; its 
 being surprising, and contrary to expectation *. 
 This, it is true, Dacier has expressed in his ver- 
 sion, by the words, " contre ce quon avoit attenduJ' 
 But this is, professedly, his own supplement of 
 Aristotle's text. And indeed I once thought the 
 text defective, and that Aristotle had probably 
 written it—fABraeoXn, HAPA THN AOHAN, xociocrt^ 
 tl^nrai : alluding to the latter part of cap. ix. But, 
 as I now understand the passage, this idea is suf* 
 ficiently implied. The words, xaSawf^ il^ura*, have 
 puzzled and divided the commentators, by their 
 obscurity of reference. Upon the whole I am 
 inclined to tliink, they point to what he had said 
 cap. ix. [TransL Part II. Sect. 7.] which, as I 
 before observed, [note 80.] seems manifestly to 
 be a preparation for this chapter ; and in which 
 ^ ^ . the 
 
 ■ Usfi'X'Freiat ^e \syovrou ra IIAF EAIllAA av/x^i^nxoTot 
 TravTa, km outu; Trapa TPAriKOlS hi na^VTai, — Schot, 
 Nicand, quoted by Robortelli^ p. io6. 
 
 NOTES. jrjj 
 
 the words, vxpx mv ^o^xv ^i* xXXnXx — events that 
 
 are " unexpected consequences of each other'' 
 
 answer to the definition of TFi^i-nimx, as here ex- 
 plained. 
 
 That this is the meaning of Aristotle's words, 
 I have no doubt. But, perhaps, even the words 
 themselves have been inaccurately rendered, and 
 T^xrroiAivuv should be constructed, not with fxirx- 
 
 P^A^I, but with ii/ai/Tiov : — iig ro Ivxyjiov rooy Tr^arro- 
 
 fAiyuv: i.e. in contrarium eorum quce agimtur. 
 This was suggested to me by the literal version 
 which the accurate Mr. Harris has given of the 
 wwds in his Philol. Inq, p. 148. — '' A revo- 
 " LUTION is, as has been already said, a chancre 
 *' into the reverse of what is doing."' The defi- 
 nition, I think, though its sense be the same in 
 either way, would thus be more clear, and would 
 answer more exactly to what follows. 
 
 NOTE 84. 
 
 P. 131. Thus in the Oedipus, the mes- 
 senger, &c. 
 
 — ExJwv wf tv(ppxvuv r(i>y Oi^ittxi/, xxi xTTxXXx^uy t» 
 
 w^oi; mv fxriTi^x (po^s. Alluding, probably, to the 
 very words of the messenger in Sophocles : 
 
 T/ SrjT lyuy i TOTAE TOT OOBOT <r\ 
 
 E'sreme^ ETNOTS HA0ON, ESEATSAMHN; 
 
 V. I012. 
 
Bo 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 85. 
 
 P. 133- These then are two parts of 
 
 THE FABLE — REVOLUTION AND DISCOVERY. 
 Avo fxiv 81/ T« fMuia fxs^n IIEPI TATTA cV*, frs^t- 
 
 TTiTsix xa» avayvcdfKfif. " Circa ficec'^ About 
 ichat ? What are we to understand by raura r — 
 Victorius says, ra ir^xrToixim ; and Dacier, after 
 him, " Qui regardent le sujety I cannot be sa- 
 tisfied with this. Ta sr^xrroixiyx, the Subject ^ the 
 action, are sufficiently expressed by the word jituJa. 
 Would Aristotle have said, '* These are two parts 
 " of the fabie relative to the fable?'' I have, 
 therefore, neglected the word ijegi in my trans- 
 lation, in conformity to the probable conjecture of 
 Madius. Every reader sees how easily it might 
 get into the text from the word Tun^ns-sTeiOi which 
 presently follows. I rather think, however, that, 
 retaining w£^», we should read, -cfs^i Y ATTA : — 
 " circa easdeni resf — to point out the clgse con- 
 nection of these two parts of the fable, as thinc^s 
 of the same kind^ and counterparts, as it were, to 
 each other, co-operating to the same effect — the 
 production of terror, pity, surprise, &c. And 
 thus they are afterwards mentioned together^ as 
 constituting one species of Tragedy : n /x£v yxo^ 
 TxmxrXtyfXEpfi, v; ro oXov in nEPIIlETEIA KAI ANAF- 
 
 NXIPISI5:. [cap. xviii. Transl. Part II. Sect. 19.] 
 The same mode of expression occurs in the Ethics 
 ad Niconu lib. iv. cap. 1 3. IIEPI TA ATTA h 
 
 NOTES. gi 
 
 m^tit¥ E2TI x«i 11 aXflt^oi/naf jitf(ror»i? : " in iisdem 
 vertitury That is, as appears from the con- 
 text, the virtue, of which he is there speaking, was 
 of the same kind, or class, with that, which was 
 the subject of the foregoing chapter. Both were 
 among the a.^iroci ofAiXnTixcu. So, in the conclusion 
 of the subsequent chapter — r^n^ hv it tl^nfxtpxi sv 
 ry /3iu /AftroTHTff • EIXI cTf vxa-xi IIEPI Xoym riyup 
 
 NOTE 86. 
 
 P- 133- Disasters, comprehend all 
 
 PAINFUL OR destructive ACTIONS, &C. 
 
 It seems hardly reconcilable with philosophical 
 accuracy, to use such an expression as nA0O2 In 
 nPASIX — defining the suffering to be the action 
 that causes the suffering. 
 
 In his Metaphysics he puts it thus : — ra fxtytin 
 
 rbi¥ <ru/x<pof wy xa» Auwtj^wi^ IIAOH Xtyirxi *. 
 
 This word, w«6i^, in the sense here used, is 
 very embarrassing to a translator. The word 
 passion, in this sense, of suffering, is, with us, ap- 
 propriated to a subject, from which it cannot, 
 without a sort of profanation, be transferred to 
 any other. The French, however, have done this 
 without scruple, though the word, when So applied, 
 must be explained before it can be understood. 
 Upon the whole, I could find no single words that 
 
 ' seemed 
 
 V. 21. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
♦i •NOTES, 
 
 seemed to me to answer so nearly to «*l^, and 
 its adjective, ir«(liiTi)tn», in the sense in which they 
 are used here, and in cap, xviii. as disaster, and 
 its correspondent adjective, disastrous. Their 
 original, desastrcj is explained in the Diet, of the 
 French Academy, by "• accident J uneste.'' 
 " Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances, 
 Of moving accidents [^«9n] by flood, and field.'' 
 
 OtbcUo, Act I. 5f. IIL 
 
 NOTE 87. 
 
 P- ^ii' The exhibition of death, &c. 
 
 Ev T« ^«irffco Jai>«Toi. — A plain passage, which 
 the commentators seem to have taken great pains 
 to perplex with difficulties of their own invention. 
 The plain meaning oi" the expression is, cvhibited 
 on the stage : iv opixkfxoit fa^iyofAtvs TOT ITAQOTi:, 
 •5 it is expressed in the Rhetoric, Ub. ii. cap. viii, 
 p. 560. 
 
 Aristotle is here only explaining the term wa9j^; 
 not laying down a rule, nor deciding concerning 
 the propriety, or impropriety, of such exhibitions. 
 Nothing is more evidently absurd, than the at- 
 tempts of Dacier and other French critics to 
 transfer the delicacy of their theatre to tliat of the 
 antients. The scrupulous delicacy of French 
 Tragedy was, I believe, as unknown to tl)e Athe- 
 nian stage, as its rigid and strutting dignity. 
 A single passage, and that, from the most polished 
 -of the three Greek Tragic Poets w liosc works are 
 3 extant. 
 
 NOTES. ^ 83 
 
 txtant, may sufficiently prove this ; I mean the 
 description of Oedipus tearing out his own eyes, in 
 Sophocles. 
 
 ToiocuT l(pvfiifm, TToXKocxig tb k ovx ciTru^ 
 H^ourtr, iTrutoeav fiXiCpocou' (poivixi V Ijam 
 TXf[yxi ytvu ireyyoV «J" Gcvt£(roe,v 
 Ooi/K fjuuico(Tocq ^ocyovocg' aXX' ofJLH [jLeXag 
 
 0/x/3^G' %aXa^; cct/jLocTog InyyiTO *. 
 
 Oed. Tyr. v. 1284. 
 
 " Thus oft exclaiming, he his eyelids raised, 
 " And rent the orbs of sight ; the bleeding balls 
 ** Imbath'd his cheeks, nor ceased the gushing 
 
 " drops, 
 " But rain'd a shower of black and streaming 
 " gore.** Potter's Translation. 
 
 But Sophocles did not confine himself to descrip- 
 tion. Oedipus himself immediately appears upon 
 the stage, and exhibits the shocking spectacle of 
 his bloody eyes to the audience. Certainly, the 
 French rule, " de ne pas ensanglanter le Theatre," 
 w^as not much more strictly observed here by 
 Sophocles, than it was by Shakspeare in his Lear, 
 where Glosters eyes are trodden out, h fai/f^^, 
 upon tlie stage. 
 
 I cannot quit this instance from Sophocles, 
 without diverting the reader, (for I am persuaded 
 
 It 
 
 ♦ This line w, undoubtedly, faulty. The best emen- 
 dation I have seen proposed appears to me to be that of 
 Mr. Heath, who would read, aifiarosii — ^i. e. contracted, 
 
 G 2 
 
tf { .N O -T.E S. 
 
 it will diveij jffim,) with Pere- Brumoy's apology, 
 or, rather, with the joint apology of him, M. Dacier, 
 and Boileau. " Le grand Corneille et ses 
 ** successeurs Tragiques, ont cru que ce seroit una 
 " chose horrible d exposer Oedipe aveugle et 
 *' sanglant aux yeux des spectateurs. M. Dacier 
 ** leur repond trks-hkn par ces vers de Des- 
 " PREAUK, Art Poet, chant ii. 
 
 " II n'est point de serpent, ni de monstre odieux, 
 " Qui par I'art imite ne puisse plaire aux yeux. 
 " D'un pmceau delicat Vartijice agrtahle 
 " Du plus affreux objet fait un ohjet aimableJ 
 " Ainsi pour nous charmer, la Trag^die en 
 
 pleurs 
 ** jy Oedipe tout sanglant fit parler les douleurs *." 
 
 This is pushing Aristotle's principle, of the 
 pleasure we receive from the imitation even of 
 disagreeable objects **, rather farther than, I be- 
 lieve, he thought of. A critic of much more taste 
 and much less prejudice, speaking of the Philoc* 
 tetes of Sophocles % has observed, " that the 
 " antients thought bodily pains and wounds, &c* 
 " (iri^twJuvjai Kxi r^oocrsii) proper objects to be re- 
 presented on the stage. See also the Tr&chinia 
 
 
 It 
 
 u 
 
 of 
 
 * Theatre des Grecs, i. J45. 
 ^ Above, cap. iv. Transl. Part I. Sect. 5. 
 ' See V. 749, &c. panicularly, 796,7 : and the dc«- 
 cription of the bleeding wound, v. 845. 
 
 'AifiOf^ayni pAf>J<. - - - - 
 
 ti 
 
 NOTES. . 85 
 
 of Sophocles, and the lamentations of Hercules 
 
 d » 
 
 '' in it . 
 
 Hippolytus, after having been dragged ov^r the 
 rocks, and almost torn to pieces, by his fiery 
 coursers, appears upon the stage with his man- 
 gled and bleeding limbs'. — Bat, according to Boi- 
 leau, Dacier, &c. these are all " obfets aimables."" 
 
 NOTE 88. 
 
 P. 133. The Commoi are founp in some 
 
 ONLY. 
 
 The Greek says— iV»a A, ret mjsrt> (rxnpni KAI 
 xofAfMou Here, the xo/a/x©*, and the rx dwo a-xunic, 
 are represented as distinct things. But in the 
 definition afterwards, Ko/*/x®* appears to be the 
 name given to the joint lamentation of the chorus 
 and the actors. Ko^/a^ ^i, i^nv^ xon^^o^a km 
 ivo (mnm. Victorius states this difficulty, but 
 without giving any satisfactory solution. . And 
 indeed I see no way of reconciling these passa^^es, 
 unless we suppose Aristotle to have expressed 
 himself very loosely and inaccurately, and to have 
 meant, that xo/xp(^ was the qame appropriated to 
 that part of the Xo^ixoy which joined or alternated 
 with one or more of the «Vo (rx>jv»j?--i. e. the 
 actorsi so that by, Ko/x^(^ fi^ fi^ „^t^ xo»i.^ ^o^^^ 
 
 xoei 
 
 ** Dr. Wanton's Essay on Pope, vol. i. 73, Note. 
 • HippoL Eurip. v. 1236, &c,— and 1348. In Mr. 
 Potter's u-a«slauon, v. 1318, 19, 20; and 1438, &c. 
 
 03 
 
 6 
 
« NOTES. 
 
 Kai info tf-xtii^n;, we are to understand only, that 
 Ko[A(jL^ was that 6^r\y^ or lamentation of tkt 
 chorus, in which the actors^ alternately, took part; 
 as if the Greek had been thus : — 8^ti>©* XH^ '^"^ 
 
 XOINX2NOTXIN oi «V* axftym. And SO, t« otirt 
 
 cxriyi)^ KAI xofAfAoi would Only mean, the xo|tA/xo* of 
 the chorus with the avo rxfivm — that is, mixed 
 with the lamentation of the actors, or^ persons of 
 the drama. 
 
 But it seems more for the credit of our philoso- 
 phical critic, to give up the jfr^^ of these passages 
 as corrupt, and to adhere to the plain sense of the 
 definition. I have, therefore, taken no notice of 
 the words, roc izro (TXJivT)?, in my version. Nothing 
 is lost by the suppression. The sense of the word 
 nofAfA^ is left, like that of the other terms, to be 
 fixed by its definition. 
 
 ;note 89. 
 
 P. 134. Between entire choral odes. 
 
 I confess myself not satisfied as to the meaning 
 of this expression, 'OAXIN x^^^xcov /AiXwy. I have 
 therefore adhered to the fair and literal tran>lation 
 of the words. — But what is an entire choral ode 
 or song ? Is it that, which is in the regular lyric 
 form, in strophe and antistrophe? So it seems 
 most natural to understand it. But a difficulty 
 meets us. For when the na^oJ(^, as it often, and 
 indeed almost always, happens, is not such a re- 
 
 gular 
 
 NOTES. 9r 
 
 gulir Antistrophic Ode, what name is to be given 
 to that part of the Tragedy, which lies between 
 the vA^o^^ and the first Antistrophic Ode? It 
 cannot make a part of the Tl^oXoy&», for that ends 
 with the UocfoiQ^, The Edvde is out of the ques- 
 tion. There remains only the Episode; and to 
 that it cannot belong, consistently with Aristotle's 
 definition of Ewiio-o^iok, because it will not be, 
 according to this sense of oAwi», '* between entire 
 choral OdesJ^ If we take entire to mean, all 
 choraly Le. not broken and interrupted by the 
 «Vo o-ituvflf, or the persons of the drama, we shall 
 still be embarrjissed with the same difficulty : for, 
 whenever the va^oi^ is not, in this sense, entire^ 
 which is frequently the case ', the part between 
 that and the first entire Ode, will be without a 
 name. 
 
 Shall we, then, with some commentators, sup- 
 pose Aristotle by oX»y ^o^ikuv fAiXuy, to have meant 
 only, ixn p^o^ii f4,i\u¥ — i. e. melodies sung by the 
 whole chartis^? This removes the difficulty. Yet 
 I can hardly conceive, that he would have expres- 
 sed himself in a manner so w antonly ambiguous, 
 
 when 
 
 ^o- 
 
 J ■ — 
 
 • As in the Xla^o^ of die Orestes of Eufipides, the 
 EUctra of Sophocles, &c. 
 
 * So Goulston — " Inter plenos choricos cantus ; qui 
 set/, ab unlverso fiehant choro.^^ Vict. " Pleni integriquf 
 cantus V So ?icco\, ^ Jntieri canti.** Heinsius, Dacier, 
 and Bacteux, avoid tlie difficulfy by omitting the wotd 
 .j|4V in their translatjions. ^ 
 
 04 
 
W K O T E S. 
 
 when the clear and decisive expression— oAk ^^fir, 
 which he presently after uses, was so obvious. 
 
 From an accurate and philosophical writer, one 
 would naturally expect a chapter of definitions to 
 be clear. But whoever expects it here will cer- 
 tainly be disappointed. Alnwst every definition, 
 to Be perfectly intelligible, wants other definitions, 
 which are not given, and which the obscure and 
 imperfect information to be found in other antient 
 authors will not enable us to supply. 
 
 NOTE 90. 
 P- ^34. The Parode i» the fiest speech 
 
 OF THE WHOLE ChORUS. 
 
 Ucc^o^ fAt)f tf ir^ta-rn AEHII oAa ;^o^h. — Though 
 
 Af J«f, in its proper signification, is mere speech, yet 
 it appears to have been occasionally extended to 
 such melody as imitated speech, and to have an- 
 swered nearly to the modern term recitative. 
 [See NOTE 46, and particularly the passage from 
 Plutarch at the end of it.] And such, I have no 
 doubt, is the sense in which it is here used, to 
 distinguish the melody of the Parodos from that 
 of the regular choral odes ; which I suppose to 
 have been a more varied, measured, and, as we 
 may, not improperly, term it, a more musical 
 melody. For want of understanding this dis- 
 tinction, the commentators have made strange 
 confusion, by taking AiJk, either in its literal sense 
 
 of 
 
 N O T £ S. S9 
 
 of mere speaking, or in a sense absolutely syno- 
 nymous with fAtxQ^, as Dacier does. But it is 
 hardly to be imagined, that Aristotle would us^ 
 the word Affi? without any reason; and, that the 
 n»^.i^ could not be mere speech, or declamation, 
 such as that of our stage, seems evident enough 
 from the expression, Affif 'OAQT ^o^u. A num- 
 ber may sing together, in a kind of measured 
 recitative, or simple chanting; but they cannot 
 well speak together, without intolerable confusion. 
 This would be that vefy x^^^ ^i^A.xTix(^, which 
 Demetrius mentions as a thing absurd and un- 
 heard of *. 
 
 There is a singular passage la Dionysius of 
 Halicarnassus, which affords, I think, a strong 
 confirmation, both of the sense which I have here 
 given to the word AiJk, and of the propriety of 
 
 its 
 
 cc 
 
 ft 
 
 tt 
 
 • De.net. mpi Ef^. Sect. 168, where speaking of some 
 poems of Sappho, that descended beneath the Lyric 
 dignity and elegance, both in subject and style, he says. 
 " they were fitter to be recited, than sung, and were iU 
 adapted to be performed by a chorus, or accompanied 
 by the lyre ; unless," says he, " there were such a 
 thing as a speaking chorus :"_„• ^ r-f b, vo.®- ?<»- 
 
 Choral rm/a/«V indeed, judiciously introduced, and not 
 continued too long, I have often thought, might occasion- 
 ally be so managed as to produce a striking effect. An 
 example of it, and a very fine one, is to be found in an 
 Oratorio of that admirable composer, Eman. Bach of 
 which the title, io English, is, The Israelite, in the fVH- 
 dernest. 
 
 Is 
 
99i NOTES. 
 
 its application in that sense to the choral Umf^t^, 
 In the 1 ith section of his treatise JDe Struct. Orat. 
 in oi-der to shew, how little pros(Kly was regarded 
 by the com[X)sers of the Tragic melodies, he cri- 
 ticises the melody of the following lines from the 
 Orestes of Euripides : 
 
 Z«ya, (TiyoCy Xbvkov J%vo^ d^f^uXtig 
 
 TSaTBy fJLff KTVTrStTB 
 
 ATTOTTPofioiT i,ic6i(r\ aTfOTT^oSi ycoiTot^. V. 140. 
 
 Now it is remarkable, 1. that he calls this, 
 MEA02, and yet represents it as said by Electra : 
 
 2AN TTfogrov ^o^ov, — 2. That the melody, to 
 
 which these words were set, was the simplest 
 possible ; a kind of chant'mg ?rcitative. The three 
 first words, for instance, were set to one note ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 33 
 
 S 
 
 m 
 
 T^ycCf ciyuj T^bvkov — 
 — and in other words too, the same tone, as this 
 author clearly informs us, was frequently repeated. 
 This may be regarded as somewhat of a musical 
 curiosity. For it is an authentic, though indeed 
 a very scanty and imperfect specimen, of one part 
 of the dramatic choral music of the Greeks. 
 3dly, This very melody was probably that of the 
 na{0(J(^ of this Tragedy. Dionysius, indeed, 
 
 gives 
 
 ** Ev yoLo 5n tsto^, to, 2<7a, (rryai; Afwov, I9* *ENOS 
 $0OrrOT MEAaAElTAL 
 
 NOTES. ^ 
 
 gives these words to Electra*; but in all the 
 editions of Euripides which I have seen, the t«m 
 first lines aie given to the chorus; with more 
 propriety, I think, if we attend to what goes be- 
 fore. Electra had just said to the chorus, on their 
 coming in while Orestes was sleeping; 
 
 The words, therefore, which Dionysius, quoting 
 probably by memory, attributes to Electra, would 
 seem to come more naturally from the mouths 
 of the choral virgins, repeating to each other the 
 caution she had given them. But whether this be 
 so or not, yet, that this was the Jirst entry of the 
 chorus upon the stage, is clear from the preceding 
 speech of Electra: and the Lyric part, which 
 follows that speech, if it does not begin with, pro- 
 bably contains, at least, the v^urr^y Xt^iv oXa ^ofa ; 
 
 being all in the regular choral form of Strophe 
 and Antistrophe, and, in all probability, set 
 throughout to melody of the same kind. Perhaps 
 the xvhok chorus might not begin to sing, till the 
 third Strophe, rioTj^ia, troTvia yv^. — If, as Victorius 
 contends, this be not the Parados, it cannot bet^in 
 before, v. 316, 
 
 At, At, 
 
 A^of/^aSeg ug — k.t.ocX. — 
 
 JBut, the very application of the word ra^o^©*, 
 
 _. which 
 
 * So does the author of one oF the arguments prefixed 
 to the Tragedy : «$ ^n^iv E^atT^a t« x°^^ 
 
^ NOTES. 
 
 Which properly signifies the entry, or arrival of 
 the chorus **, ta the 7r^(siry[ Xi^k, or first speech of 
 the whole chorus, shews, I think, sufficiently, the 
 close connection of the two things ; and that we 
 are never to look for that ^rst speech, at such a 
 distance from the^r^ entrance, of tlie chorus. 
 
 But, it may, perhaps, be objected to the distinc- 
 tion I understand here between Aig^ and /x«X(^, 
 that it will jBxpose us to the very difficulty men- 
 tioned in the last Note: it will make Aristotle's 
 enumeration of the parts into which Tragedy is 
 divided, incomplete; because, if we admit it, the 
 part between , the riaj o<J(^ and the first Irae-ifAow 
 or regular Ode, will want a name. For, if any 
 thing, it must be ETriio-oJioy ; but this, it may 
 be said, it cannot be, because it will not be, ac- 
 cording to Aristotle's definition, /ucra^u ^o^ixup 
 MEAflN ; the Parode being not fcfA©', but Afjtf . 
 • — It seems a sufficient answer to this objection, to 
 observe, that At^K, here, is not opposed to ^ix®^ 
 in general, but only to a particular species of 
 /AiA^. Strictly speaking, the simplest chant, or 
 even such recitative, as approaches the nearest to 
 common speech, is yet as much /a«a®^, melody, 
 musiCy as the most refined Opera song*. It is 
 ^ called 
 
 ' — w A*«' EIXOAOX T« xof8» nAPOAOI. Jul, PolL— 
 And so the scholiast on Hephaestion : «t!u hoMitou h w^ajxn 
 Tftjy xofwv sTTi TW axrmy eia-o^^, Ed, de Patnv, p. 74. 
 
 • See the 1st vol. Diss. II. p. 78, note *, and the pas- 
 sage of Aristoxenus, concerning the essential distinction 
 
 between 
 
 NOTES. 9 
 
 called At^K, X)nly comparatively. Nay, the word 
 f^ix^ is sometimes, in a wider sense, applied even 
 to speech itself ^ And so, aHove, we have Xixnitn 
 'APMONIA \ Aristotle, therefore, in the expres- 
 sion x«f»»««>' MEAIiN, may be supposed, without 
 any inconsistence, to include, m hat, afterwards, in 
 tlie particular definition of -ra/Jo^T®^, where dis- 
 tinction was necessary, he denombates At J«f, 
 
 It must be owned, that Aristotle s parsimonious 
 brevity has left souie confusion in this subject; 
 but, in the illustrations of his commentators, it is 
 *' confusion worse confounded:' And this ha3 
 arisen from their applying to the Greek drama, 
 without the slightest foundation, the Roman divi- 
 sion into^t;e acts. It is now, I believe, pretty well 
 understood, that such an idea is totally inappli- 
 cable to the Greek Tragedy \ If ^e 7nust talk 
 of acts, it would be more proper to say they hsad 
 three ; forming our division upon the three parts, 
 which, according to Aristotle, were essential to 
 £very drama, the Ti^oXoy^^ the ETrao-oAev, and the 
 
 _^_^__ E£o^ ; 
 
 httvfetn ail speech, and all singing; i,e, that in the one, 
 the voice moves by slides, in the other, by intervals or 
 ikips, 
 
 ' Vol. i. Dissert. II. p. 77. note": and Dion. Hal. 
 ^''^^ XI. , g Cap. 4. 
 
 ^ Tliis was proved long ago in a dissertation by the 
 Abbe Vatry, in the iiih vol. of the Mem. de P A^ad. 
 -^cyj&c— See also the preface to Franklin's Soplio les. 
 —Yet Lord Kaims says, positively, of the Greek Tra- 
 fcdiev" there are five acts in eaeh/'-^E] of Crit. ii. 4 1 ^ 
 
'■I 
 
 - r 
 » 
 
 fr Jt O T B s. 
 
 I{rf^; not upon the number of <;horal odes^ 
 wbidk k (fiferent in diSescDi. dbnnas. In lb0 
 
 Trachinice^ for example, there are not fewer than 
 Mr choral odes. If these are to determine the 
 number of acts, as Dacier contends, this Tragedy 
 will consist of seven. Brumoy, to divide this 
 piece into five acts, is reduced to admit an entire 
 ode in the middle of his first act; so that the 
 Episode, which Aristotle defines to be that part 
 which is jLt£Tafu oAwv p^o^ixojv fxiXuv, begins in the 
 UfoXoy^, and before the Ua^o^^, which, accord- 
 ing to Brumoy, must be the second ode. Another 
 pde he is obliged to admit in the middle of his 
 last act; contrary to Anstotle's definition of 
 Eg«^®». — Dacier makes the prologue of the Oedi^ 
 pus Coloneus consist of 700 verses*. Nothing 
 can be more improbable, or more inconsistent with 
 Aristotle's idea of its purpose. [See note 40 *.] 
 But he was forced into this absurdity, only by the 
 supposed necessity of reducing the intervals be- 
 tween the odes to three, and, consequently, the 
 acts, (adding the prologue and exode,) to five. 
 For if the true parode be at v. 11 8, COj a • tk if 
 f!ir ; X. T. aX.) as I doubt not it is, there will then 
 be four such intervals, and, consequently, six acts. 
 He repeats the same mistakes in dividing the 
 Phcenissa, in which there are five regular odes, as 
 in many other of the Greek Tragedies. In the 
 Oedipus Tyrarmus he makes the ode, Eiwif lyu 
 
 [ Note on Aristot. p. 177. * In the ist volume. 
 
 NOTES, 95 
 
 •^vTK ttfAi, (v. 1096,) come in the middle of an 
 act ; and then, because he chose to place it so, is 
 forced to deny that it was sung, though it is in tl^ 
 most regular Lyric form \ 
 
 The expression, nPXlTH AiJk oXh x^(^i seems 
 to imply, that other choral parts, beside the Pa- 
 rode, were also A«f *< ; i. e. were sung by the whole 
 chorus in the same sort of chanting and simple 
 melody. But who will undertake to distinguish 
 these parts, and to tell us, exactly, what was Air, 
 and what Recitative ? what was sung by the whole 
 choir, and what was, ct voce sola^? — I will not 
 bewilder my reader and myself in a labyrinth 
 without a clue. 
 
 The scholiast upon the Phoenissa (v. 212.) savs, 
 that the lixpoi^ was sung by the chorus, " as 
 they entered upon the stage.'' — IioLpo$(^ $i. In* 
 
 Tiytt, trtya, &c. And, indeed, in the example he 
 here gives fi-om the Orestes, the entrance of the 
 ^ ' choral 
 
 * Remarques sur rOedipe, at the end of his translation 
 of that Tragedy. 
 
 ' The learned reader knows that this cannot be deter- 
 mined by their speaking of themselves in the singular 
 number, for this they do almost constantly, in all the Odes. 
 So, EiTff ETIi (M^ri; diM, just referred to, &c. — ^Nei- 
 ther can we say, what at first view, indeed, seems proba- 
 ble, that whatever appears in the regular Lyric form of 
 Strophe and Jntistrophe, was air, as opposed to recitative^ 
 or mere chant: for in some Tragedies the Tia^o^(^ it^ejf 
 is in tin's regular Lyric form ; as, in the Trachinia and 
 Ekftra of Sophocles; Iphig, in Jul. of Euripides, &c. 
 
 • 
 
96 NOTES. 
 
 'dioral troop is dearly marked by what precedes. 
 dElectra says - — 
 
 Aid* av riAPEin TOig Ifioig S^vyifiectri 
 O/Xa/ svvuSou - - - V. 132. 
 
 And this is frequently the case. Thus, in the 
 Phcsnissa, that the Tvf^iov o*J{a(x, A»7r»<r' — v. 212, (not 
 KaffA^ i^oXi — V. 651, as Dacier makes it,) is the 
 true ParodCy as, indeed, it is expressly called by 
 the author of the Greek argument prefixed to the 
 Pers(B of JEschylus, is confirmed by this passage, 
 announcing tlie entry of the choral virgins, in the 
 preceding Iambics, where the old attendant de- 
 sires Antigone to retire : — 
 
 0;H^X^ yu^, ug rot^ocyfjL^ sliri^xSev ^tfoXiv, 
 XXIPEI [w coming] yvvatKcov 'ir^og So/A^ng tu- 
 qoLVvtyosg. v. 206. 
 
 Thus too, in the Oedipus Coloneus, the first 
 appearance of the chorus is thus announced by 
 Antigone : 
 
 r/ya- nOPEYONTAI ya^ 'XIAE ^ri nveg 
 Xpovca TTuXuiOi - - - tr. III. 
 
 And the ITapocT©^ immediately follows, v. 1 1 7. 
 
 In the Iphigtnia in Tauris, the arrival of tlief 
 choral women is marked by themselves : 
 
 Xo. — EMOAON- Tiveov; &c. v.i^j. 
 
 See also, v. 65* Ovrru - - - - 7rap«(ri> - - -. 
 
 The Parode is not less distinctly marked ia the 
 MtdeUy v. 131. Xo. ExAuoi^ (p(ayx¥ — x. t. «A. — in 
 
 ' the 
 
 NOTES. 9, 
 
 the HeracHdce, where the chorus is called in by 
 
 lolaus, v. 69:— in the Htlem, v. 179:— in the 
 
 Hercules, v. 107, &c. 
 
 When the attendant spirit, in Com us, " opens 
 
 " the business of the drama to a solitary forest, 
 without an audience," he does no more than 
 Venus •", and the ghost of Polydorus ", and 
 Iphigenia % and many others, in the Tragedies of 
 Euripides, had done before him. The learned 
 and ingenious editor of Milton's Occasional 
 Poems says, that, '' in a Greek Tragedy, this 
 *' objection would have been obviated by the , 
 
 chorus, which was always present ;" but I am 
 afraid the want of " recolkction " must be trans- 
 ferred from Milton to himself p. There are not, 
 I think, more than three or four Greek Trairedies 
 m which the chorus is present from the begin- 
 ning \ 
 
 This nscpoS(^, or entry of the chorus, probably 
 made one of the most splendid and popular parts 
 of the O^IS, or shew, of the antient Tragedy. It 
 is mentioned by Aristotle, in his Niconmchean 
 Ethics, as a custom of the Megarians, who were 
 a luxurious and ostentatious people, to be at the 
 
 expence 
 
 "^ In the Hippolytus. »» Hecuba. . ° Iphig. in Jul. 
 
 ' Mr. Warton's edit, of Milton's Ore. Poems, p. 129. 
 «* Milton did not recollect, that the Spirit was opening 
 *' the business of the drama to a solitary forest^ without 
 '* an audience.'* 
 
 *! See Dacier, p. 170, note 5. 
 VOL. ir. H 
 
 ♦r 
 
98 NOTES. 
 
 e^ence of furnishing purple dresses for the Xia^oS^ 
 even of their comic stage '. It appears, however, 
 from a curious fragment of Menander, to have 
 , been a practice, not uncommon with the Greek 
 ManagtrSy to place mutes among their choral 
 singers, in order to complete the "visible number 
 requisite : 
 
 - - - - - COCTTBO TCOV %0^^V 
 
 Ov TTocvTsg udacr^y ocXX oi(pcovoi duo rivsg 
 
 'H T^etg TTc^^e^xocG-i, OANTXIN EIXATOI, 
 
 Xcopocv ycocTS'xpfiiv, ^coa d* oig Ig-tv jG<©-*. 
 
 ------ As in a chorus 
 
 All do not sing, but, in the Idmlmost ranks, 
 Some two or three stand mute to make a num- 
 So is it here ; — ae serve to fill a place ; [her, 
 Tkej/ only live, who have the 7nea?is of living. 
 
 NOTE 91. 
 
 P. 134. The Stasimon includes all 
 
 THOSE CHORAL OdES THAT ARE WITHOUT 
 ANAPiESTS AND TrOCHEES. 
 
 r^o^onH. — If we are to understand this strictly, as 
 expressing the exclusion of those feet from the re- 
 gular 
 
 uffTnp 01 Msy a^tiq, IV. 2. ed. Ox, Wilk, 
 
 ■ Mcnand. and Philem. Reliq. ed, CUrici, p. 221. 
 
 NOTES. 99 
 
 gular odes, I cannot perceive it to be true. Dacier, 
 therefore, understands only, that those feet were 
 very rarely used in those Odes, compared with 
 the na^o$^^ which he calls, '' premier chant du 
 choeur ;'' in which, he says, and very truly, that 
 they prevail.— '' Ges deux pieds - - - regnent;' &c. 
 p. 1 79'— It is possible that Aristotle might mean 
 this ; but it is not what he says. He says, " that 
 " ^lA®^— that lyric part, of the chorus, which is 
 '' xvithout anapaests and trochees:' I rather think, 
 he means only those Odes, the regular stanzas of 
 which are not broken and interrupted by an inter- 
 mixture of anapapstic or trochaic verses xxrx 
 o-un»/*a, (according to the metrical language,) like 
 the Parodos, as I take it to be, of the Antigoiie,— 
 AxTKarA»H — v. 100.— that of the Philoctetes — 
 Ti xf^— V. 1 36, and of the Prometheus of .^schy- 
 lus. And this, I believe, will, in general, be 
 found true of the regular Odes subsequent to the 
 noL^o$^. For, in the lix^o^^ itself, the general 
 prevalence of the anapastic measure must be 
 evident to everyone who turns over the Greek 
 Tragedians. 
 
 NOTE 92. 
 
 P. 134. The Commos, &c. 
 
 fiSToc KOMMOT KAI 'OAOATrHZ" Tj^rfg-/, 
 yon Koci <?7i;f^tf — Suidas. 
 
 H 2 The 
 
loo NOTES. 
 
 The phrase, aVo (txuvu?, is commonly used by 
 Aristotle to denote the actors, as distinguished from 
 the chorus; because, as Jul. Pollux tells us, 
 IKHNH ii.iy TnOKPITXlN IS^ovy n* h of^^ijrp* th 
 ^opa*. Thus, Prob. xlix. of Sect, 19, speaking 
 of the Dorian and liypophryg'um modes, he says, 
 they were both, ;^opco /x£k oiyot,^iA%^x^ tok St ivo 
 (rxiiv>i? oliceiOTtpx — So, Prob. XXX. and Prob. xv. t« 
 ATTo (Txr.vti?, (the dialogue J is opposed to ra t» 
 yopn — tlie cfiorus. I was much surprised, there- 
 fore, to find the meaning of this phrase so widely 
 mistaken, in the late Camb. edit, where aVo 
 fl-xtii'ti? is thus explained : " id est, oin'^^y^ — ad 
 choragi mimus, non Poctce, pertinens ^" 
 
 An example of the Koju/[x(^, pointed out by 
 Victorius, may be found in the Andromache of Eu- 
 ripides, V. 1197. 
 
 I \now not why some of the commentators 
 confine these joint lamentations of chorus and 
 actors to the Exode, or what they call the last act. 
 They are often, I think, to be found in other parts 
 of the drama ; ** dans le coiirs des actes,'' as 
 Dacier rightly observes. We iiave an example of 
 this between Tecmessa and the choiiis, in the 
 
 yijasy V. yoi . Iw, /xoi [4,01 . Another occurs 
 
 very early in tlie Iphigenia in Tauris, v. 1 43, &c. 
 where Iphigenia, assisted by the choral virgins, 
 her attendants, performs the funereal libation to tlie 
 
 nia?ies 
 
 NOTES.. ,01 
 
 manes of h^r brother, whom she supposes to be 
 dead, and sings a funereal dirge. The chorus, in- 
 deed, have so small a part in this lamentation, that 
 it may be ' thought hardly to answer Aristotle's 
 definition of 0/)„v(^ Ko^yf^ &c. Eut this, in fact, 
 seems no objection, because the lamentation of 
 Iphigenia is broken off abruptly, as Mr. Markland 
 has well observed, at v. 235, by the arrival of the 
 shepherd. I consider it, therefore, only as an un- 
 finished Ko/x^0*. But, that it answers to that 
 idea, appears, I think, from the whole cast of 
 it; from the frequent occurrence of the inter- 
 jections, <piv, <ptv—i, i—ocl, ul—ol fAoi, &c.— and of 
 the very word, ipnyi^, throughout ^ and, from the 
 answer of the chorus : 
 
 Xof.— ANTITAAMOTS c^^xg 
 Tfivov T Aa-iTjTuv croi 
 
 Aea-TToivu y e^ocvScc(ra), j 
 
 Txv \v ePHNOIZ:i fjL^(rxv 
 'Nbkvg-i f/^eXBov'^, v. 1-8. 
 
 To thee thy faithful train 
 
 The Asiatic hymn will raise, 
 A doleful, a barbaric strain, 
 Responsive to thy lays, 
 
 And 
 
 • IV. 19. 
 
 *» Ed. Cantab, 1785, p. 125. 
 
 ilg Q^Yjvoti kyxsifjuxi, v. 143. 
 
 ^ *' Mortals miseram:' " Quid hoc sii, nescio," sayg 
 Mr. Markland, But, perhaps, it should be rendered, 
 
 H 3 " Mortuis 
 
fit 
 
 III 
 
 It* 
 
 I02 NOTES. 
 
 And steep in tears the mournful song, 
 Notes which to the dead belong ; 
 Dismal notes attun'd to woe 
 By Pluto in the realms below. 
 
 Potter's Eurip, v. 206. 
 NOTE 93. 
 
 P« '35« This raises disgust, rather 
 
 THAN TERROR OR COMPASSION. 
 
 Literally, — " for this is ntitker terrible^ nor 
 
 piteOUSy but shocking.'" « ya/> ^o^i^ov^ nh iXnwoy" 
 
 ruTOy ocXKx /txtapov s'ni'. — But we certainly must not 
 understand Aristotle to assert, that no pity is excited 
 by the sufferings of an exemplary character. This 
 would be directly contrary to his own account of 
 pity : EXf(^ /u£y, Trip* toi^ avajiok *. He must mean 
 only, that they are r^/Aer shocking, than affecting; 
 as it is well rendered by Piccolomini ; " un cosi 
 " fatto caso non h^, nh del terrible, (per dir cost J 
 " ne del compassionevole ; ma piii iosto \\\ dell' 
 " abominevole, e dello scellerato." That is, as 
 
 this 
 
 *' JMortuis vananiy inutileniy' in the Homeric sense of 
 fiiXE^, See II. ^. 795 — /tt£>£®- ax»®- — useless, unavailing 
 praise. So, in Virgil — '* inani muncrc.*' JEn» vi. 886. — 
 And^ ^n. xi. 51. 
 
 Sos 'y.ivt^nem exanimum - • - 
 
 - - - vano inoes i comitamur honore, 
 
 Me?^©-— MATAIOS. Sui'j. and Hesyc/i.—So, Apoll. 
 Rhod. i. 1249. MEAEH os 01 e^aeto ^wvrj. — '* Fanus ei 
 erat clamor," 
 
 * And sec Rhet.ll. 8. 
 
 NOTES. 103 
 
 this clear and exact, though prolix, writer has 
 explained it in his subsequent annotation, — 
 *' quello affetto dell' odio e delf abominatione, 
 '' sopravaiiza in modo laffetto del timore, e quel 
 ** della compassione, che gli ricuoprCy e gli asconde^ 
 " e supo^a, in modo che quasi non si fan sentire.** 
 Miapok — shocking, disgusting, &c. because con- 
 trary to our established ideas of justice, and to 
 every moral sentiment of our nature. History, 
 indeed, must reprQ;5ent facts as they are; ^^ithout 
 any regard to the sentiments they may excite. 
 But the case is far otherwise with tlie fictions of 
 the Poet. We think he ought not to make such a 
 representation of things^. We consider it as dis^ 
 couraging to virtue, as immora!, — even, in some 
 degree, as irreligious. What reader of Clarissa 
 does not find the pity, the pleasurable pity, at 
 least, which it, is the object of such a work to 
 excite, frequently counteracted, and diminished, to 
 say no. more, by some indignant feelings of this 
 kind? Tlie story of Sidney Biddulph, though a 
 work of considerable merit in the execution, is 
 liable to tiie sauie objection. The mind of a 
 reader is harrassed and revolted throughout by the 
 most Improbable an.d dtt^rmined perverseness of 
 
 unfortunate 
 
 ^ " Cum historia vera successus rerum minime pro 
 " mentis virtutum et scelerum narret ; corrigit earn 
 »* Poesis, «t exitus et fonunas, secundum merita, et ex 
 '* lege Nemescos, exhibet.'* 
 
 Bacon, De Aug, Sx, lib, ii. c. 13. 
 
 H 4 
 
104 NOTES. 
 
 unfortunate combinations; and shocked, at last, 
 by the wanton production of misery, neither de- 
 served, nor likely.— Ou (pojSipov, aVf iXmyov thto, 
 
 axxx i4,ia(0¥. Fontenelle says, in perfect confor- 
 mity with Aristotle, " Plus le heros est aim6, plus 
 " il est convenable de le rendre heureux k la fin. 
 " II ne faut point renvoyer le spectatcur avec la 
 " douleur de plaindre la destinte d un homme 
 " verteux." Reflex, sur la Poet. Sect. 52. 
 
 To do justice to the author's meaning, two other 
 things should be kept in mind : 1 . That, by his 
 iV»f<xuf, he here means a character of consummate 
 virtue, whose misfortunes were not drawn upon 
 him by arijj fault of his own. This is evident from 
 what follows. The sense of the word is sufficiently 
 fixed by its opposite, 2*OAPA ttovtj^oi^, as well as 
 by the equivalent expression, a^fT»? AIA^EPflN xai 
 ^ixai«(rukt?, in his dqs' ription of ttie /?r(y/>c7' character 
 for Tragedy ^ 2. That he presently afterwards 
 softens a little die rigour of his precept as here 
 delivered, by saying, that the character should be ^ 
 either such as he had prescribed, "or better rather 
 
 than worse ;" ^iXnoy^ /xaAAo^ i! ;^«f o^O*. 
 
 NOTE 94. 
 
 P- ^35- For it is neither GRATirrtNo 
 
 IN A MORAL VIEW, &C. 
 
 OuTf yao 0IAAN0PnnGN — . Without entering 
 into a long discussion of all that has been urged 
 
 . . __^y 
 
 * For Aristoile*s account of i^tfuaxa, the reader may 
 consult Eth, Nicom. V. 10. ej. fVilk. 
 
 NOTES. 105 
 
 by the commentators in favour of the different 
 senses they have assign^:d to the word ^»Aak6^«^ov 
 here, I shall only say, that, upon the most atten- 
 tive comparison of tliis passage with another, in 
 cap. xviii where tl e term again occurs, it appears 
 to me, that the full meaning of it is, gratifying to 
 philanthropii ; pleasing by its conformity to our 
 natural sen^e of ju.stice, by its moral tendency. 
 Indeed this seems to follow from the word fAKkogy^ 
 to which ^iXxud^uTTou is opposed. The represen- 
 tation of a g(K)d man {iTsneixnq) made miserable is 
 [Aixfcv— disgusting, shocking. Why ? Plainly, on 
 account of its evident injustice, and immoral ten- 
 dency. The representation of a very bad man 
 {(Tpo^poc zrovnpt^) punished by calamity, is ^tXa». 
 ipuTToy ;— that is, pleasing to the spectator, on the 
 same principle, from its opposite tendency. 
 
 A singular, but somewhat similar, use is made 
 of the same word in Plutarch's dialogue zrifn 
 Mnirixn; ; where, speaking of the wicked innovations 
 of the more modern musicians, Timotheus, Phi- 
 s loxenus, &c. he says of them — (piXoxaapoi yiyom(n. 
 Toy ^IAAN0PXiIION xat fif/utaxixoy NTN 'ONO- 
 MAZOMENON ^lu^otyni. M. Uurette's note upon 
 this is perfectly unsatisfactory *. I l)elive we shoud 
 
 read — ^^TO (piXayipuTroy KXi 0EATPIKON— x.T.aA. — 
 
 i. e. " bemg lovers of novelty, they affect v^hat is 
 " now termed the pleasing and theatrical style." 
 The 
 
 * Mem. de I'Acad. dcs Inscrip. vol. xix. p. 325, oct,ed. 
 — ^In H. Stephens's cd. of Plut. p. 2080. 
 
 X 
 
io6 NOTES. 
 
 The TheatrCy we know, was considered by the 
 purists of that time, as the great source of corrup- 
 tion in jVIusic. The reader may see how Plutarch 
 rails, on tliis subject, p. 2081, and 2089 ; where he 
 
 laments — -TravTaf tk? ^acixnf aTrrofAiyHi Trpo^ ruk 
 
 ©EATPIKHN 'jrpQ<rxi^u}firi}iHfoci fXHaroiy. — It appears, 
 from his expression, NTN ovo/xa^o/xivov, that this 
 was a new and fashionable use of the word ^iXav- 
 ipuiirov ; which, from the sense of pleasing to natural 
 benevolence, (as in the passage of Aristotle), seems 
 to have been extended to signify, what waspkasing^ 
 and grateful, to the popular taste, in general; in 
 opposition to those more chaste and severe pro- 
 ductions of tlie artist, which aimed only at the gra- 
 tification of the critical, and the learned. And, 
 indeed, no sort of philanthropy is more common, 
 in all times, and in every art, than that of accom- 
 modation to the public taste. 
 
 NOTE 95. 
 
 P. 136. Ouil TERROR, BT SOME RESEM- 
 BLANCE BETWEEN THE SUFFERER AND OUR- 
 SELVES. 
 
 Thus, in the Rhetoric, it is recommended to tlu.' 
 Orator, as one method of exciting terror in his 
 
 hearers, mg 'CMOIOTD inxvuyaci TratrxoyTOcg, V vi- 
 
 TToviorocg *. Aristotlc's doctrine concernin<j the 
 importance of this resemblance to ourselves in the 
 
 object 
 
 -■' ■ ■ — _ . 1 
 
 '11. 5. 
 
 NOTES X07 
 
 object of the passion bo be excited, and the extent 
 he gives to the word ofxo^og, may be seen in the 
 passages of liis Rhetoric referred to in the margin \ 
 The resemblance, however, here particularly 
 meant, is undoubtedly resemblance of character. 
 This is well explained by M. BaUeux in few words ; 
 '' Un crime atroce, un horreur de scekrat, revoke 
 " le spectateur, et par cette revolte m^me, le ras- 
 '' sure contre la crainte ; parcequ'il se sent aussi 
 ''eloign^ du malheur, qu'il lest du crime." 
 [Quatre Poetiques, torn. i. p. 307.] Or, as it is 
 more fully developed by Piccolomini, " Ripu- 
 '' tando, per il piu, gF uomini se stessi buoni, 
 '' o almeno non cattivi, ed in somma, non decani 
 ** di male ; e, per conseguente, dissimili a quelle 
 '' persone inique, in cui veggon il male, e in questo 
 " differenti da esse, che elle lo meritano, ed essi 
 ** non lo meritano : non vengon' a dubitar di ca- 
 " dere in tai mali, e, conseguentemente, non ne 
 ** nasce timore in loro." p, 194. 
 
 NOTE 96. 
 
 P. 136. Nor yet involved in misfor- 
 tune BY DELIBERATE VICE, OR VILLANY ; 
 BUT BY SOME ERROR OF HUMAN FRAILTY. 
 
 MuTt ii» Kotxtoiv xai fMo^in^ixp fji.tr okfi^XXm ug my 
 ^Vfv^iotv, aAAa ^i* dfxoc^Tittv t*kx . Thus, in the 
 
 Ethic, NicovL V. 10. p. 69. he uses fjf'op^hpia, and 
 
 ^ Ubi supra. Cap, viii. p. 559, Er—Cap, x. init. 
 
li- 
 
 
 108 NOTES, 
 
 xaxta, as synonymous : and, VII. 9 ; where he 
 says of i^ox^np^oc, that it is 2TNEXHS Trom^ia— 
 a vitious character, disposition, habit, &c.— It 
 also implies deliberate choice and intention, 
 ( — orot,y h U TiTfoai^Kriwf, i^o)(finpia, V. 8.) in Oppo- 
 sition to iixxprixy which excludes irfoacipio-ii, and is 
 «nu KAKIA2. fibidj 
 
 To understand rightly what the philosopher 
 says in this part of his work on Poetry, and espe- 
 cially his application of his doctrine to such cha- 
 racters as Oedipus and Thyestes, we ought carefully 
 to take his own sense of his own words. For want 
 of this, Dacicr * confounds himself and his readers 
 in his note about Thyestes. He mistakes Aristotle's 
 sense of a^aprta. Dacier's '' involontaire''' in- 
 cludes 
 
 • * ' * •• 
 
 t< 
 
 (C 
 
 • A fine writer, M. Marmontel, has fallen into this ajid 
 several other mistakes, by following Dacier and other 
 translators, (for we are none of us to be depended on,) 
 instead of taking the meaning of Aristotle from Aristotle 
 himself.-— See his Poetique Frangoise, torn. ii. p. 109, 
 where he adopts Dacier^s " involontairer In another 
 place he says, <^ Dans Sophocle, Oedipe voyant arriver les 
 enfans qu'il a eu de sa mere, il leur tend les bras et Icur 
 
 dit : approche%, embrassez votre // rCachrut pas, ct 
 
 " le sublime est dans la reticence:' Now the fact is, that 
 this reticence is solely the property of the good father 
 Brumoy, with respect to whom we may apply to M. Mar- 
 montel the words of Aristtde, quoted below,— a^i*^ (azv 
 «« In, a^iKU h. Brumoy translates — ** approchez, et em- 
 *' brassez votre frere," ^c.^Sophocles wrote^ 
 
 ------ hv^ tr, ixhrE 
 
 NOTES. 109 
 
 eludes both dycHo-iov, and dv^oPuXivrov, which Aris- 
 totle distinguishes; his a/xaprn/Aara beinor not 
 involuntaii/, but only, not W wpoaipsc-iug. See the 
 whole cap. x. of lib. 5, as above. One passage, 
 in cap. ix. of lib. 7, will particularly illustrate 
 Aristotle's examples. 'Ot AKPATEID (such were 
 Oedipus and Thyestes, men of ungovernable pas- 
 sion,) AAIKOI |U£v «x iltn, (i. e, are not urijiist 
 men—not xaxoi, fAox^n^oi, of bad dispositions, &c.) 
 AAIK0T2I ^f — yet they commit transient and oc- 
 casional wrong, ^i« Trafl®*, as he says elsewhere ^ 
 
 The objections made by Comeille, Fontenelle, 
 and other critics, to such subjects as that of the 
 Oedipus, which they hold to be improper for 
 Tragedy on account of the supposed fatality of 
 the crimes committed, are well and solidly an- 
 swered in an excellent note of the Abbe Battcux 
 upon this passage. 
 
 NOTE 97. 
 P. 137- Upon the stage and in the 
 
 DRAMATIC CONTESTS. 
 
 — Ein rcav (rxrivuu xoit tcov dyuiyusp — i.e. merely, in 
 
 the representation. There seems to be no more 
 foundation for the distinction which Dacier here 
 supposes, between <rx»jkD, and dym, than for the 
 same distinction between aywi/, and uVojc/JiTa*, in the 
 similar expression, ay«i/0> xa* uwoxptTwy, in cap. vi. 
 
 VII. 2. p. 86. 
 
110 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 
 NOTE gS." 
 
 p. 137. Euripides - - - the most tragic 
 OF ALL Poets. 
 
 —More, however, it has been observed, with re- 
 spect to the emotion of pity, than that of terror. 
 And ^50, Quintiliao : '^ In affectibus cum omni- 
 " bus minis, turn in iis qui miseratione con- 
 " stant, facile prcBcipuus*' [lib, x. c. 1 .] Yet the 
 powers of this admirable, though unequal, genius, 
 were by no means confined to emotions of ten- 
 derness and pity. He, too, as one of " Nature's 
 darlings,^' possessed that *' golden key,' which 
 can not only " ope the sacred source of sympa- 
 thetic tears,' but can " unlock'' also, and at 
 the same time, the " gates of horror,'' and of 
 *' thrilling fears." As proofs of this, I am 
 tempted to produce two passages of this Poet, 
 which I could never read without shuddering. 
 
 In that scene between Medea and Jason, in^ 
 which, previous to the execution of her horrid 
 vengeance, she deludes him with feigned recon- 
 ciliation and submission, when Jason, addressing 
 the children, says, 
 
 — Medea 
 
 ft n 
 
 O may I see you blooming in the prime 
 ** Of manhood, and to every virtue traiuM, 
 *' Superior to my tors ! " 
 
 [Mr, Potter'f Transl. v. 989.] 
 
 NOTES. in 
 
 — Medea turns away her face and weeps : and 
 when Jason asks the reason of her tears, she an- 
 swers, 
 
 '' And wjby," says Jason again, '' lament thus 
 '* over these children? "—Medea, then, knoM'inc^, 
 but veiling in ambiguity, her dreadful purpose of 
 destroying ttiem, replies, 
 
 EriiCTOif avTug- — ZHN A' 'OT' 'ESHTXOT 
 TEKNA, 
 
 ^ EIZHA0E M' OIKTOr, EI TENHSETAI 
 TA AE ! ^. 93^. 
 
 " I am their mother: — when thy wish was breath'd 
 " That they might live, a piteous thought arose, 
 '' If that might be!" 
 
 Potter* s Eur'ip. v. I Goo. 
 
 The other passage is in the Elcctra. In the 
 fine scene between Orestes and Electra, imme- 
 diately after the murder of their mother, Orestes 
 asks his sister, 
 
 KaT6/de^ oiov a rocXuiv buv TrtTrXcov 
 
 EpaXev, 6(Ji*|e, (jloc^ov Iv (povocig ; — v, 1206. 
 
 Mark'd you not, how my mother, ere I struck her, 
 Withdrew hei' robe, and to our view expos'd 
 
 The breast that nourished us *" ! 
 
 ' I know 
 
 *> ** Nothing : — I was but thinking of my sons." 
 ^ The excellent translator of Euripides will pardon 
 my having recourse here to a version of my owd, merely 
 
 for 
 
If 3 
 
 III NOTES. 
 
 s 
 
 I know not what nnore can be said to the praise 
 of Euripides, tlian, that no one, I believe, can 
 read tliis scene without being reminded of the 
 Macbeth of Shakspeare. 
 
 NOTE 99. 
 P. 137. That which is of a double 
 
 CONSTRUCTION, AND ALSO ENDS IN TWO OP- 
 POSITE EVENTS, TO THE GOOD, AND TO THE 
 BAD, CHARACTERS. 
 
 STSTASIZ, i'" 2T2TA2IN Ix^troL—i. e."That 
 " construction which has a double construction.'' 
 — Can this be as the author left it? I cannot 
 but suspect the Jirst a-vram to be an interpolation. 
 Without it, all will go on well. — 'H (Aty iy — 
 
 xaAAif*) TfaywJia Ix, rccvrfi^ mf (rvcTao-fWf £n. - - - 
 - - - AtVTi^x ^e, [SC. T^ayw^ia,] if Trpurn XiyofAtyy^ 
 MTTO 7iyQ3v lo * iJ ^iTrXfiy T£ Tr,y (Twrafriv ^X^^^f — *'** 
 
 TlXiVTCOffOC, &C. 
 
 The particle, TE, here, is neglected by most of 
 the comnnientators and translators, who, accord- 
 ingly, of two distinct things make one only ; un- 
 derstanding Aristotle, by his inrXti <rura<rif, to mean 
 only a fable that has a double catastrophe, ending 
 oppositely to opposite cliaracters. But the ex- 
 pression 
 
 for the sake of pointing out more distinctly to the EttgUsh 
 reader that particular circumstance of the original, which 
 strikes me most. Mr. Potter's lines are, 
 
 " Didst thou sec her, when she drew 
 
 ^ Her vests aside, and bared her breasts — v. 1338. 
 
 u 
 
 NOTES. 113 
 
 pression is, " that has both a double construction^ 
 *' and a double catastrophe'' ^iirXfiy TE tw 
 
 ^rxviy. KAI rtXiVTuxrot — x. t. aA. We must not, 
 
 however, confound this double construction with 
 duplicity of action, and what we call double plots. 
 I believe Castelvetro, who did not let the t« escape 
 him, has explained it rightly. " Dice, che questa 
 '' constitutione di favola h doppia, percioche ha 
 due maniere di persone. Tuna di buone, o dl 
 *' mezzanc, e Taltra di scelerate." (p. 293.) Aa 
 explanation that will come still better recom- 
 mended to the reader by the coincident opinion ^ 
 of the learned and accurate author of Critical 
 Observations on Books, antient and modern ; who 
 has given the following explanatory version of this 
 passage ' : ** That constitution of an Epic tale ^ 
 which is reckoned the first by some, is in reality 
 but the second in point of excellence, namely, 
 that which, like the Odyssey, has a double set of 
 ** characters, one virtuous, and one vitious, and 
 " wherein the action also ends contrarywise to tlie 
 virtuous and vitious agents, so that the former 
 terminate in prosperity, and the latter in adver- 
 sity." — These two things, though closely con- 
 nected, are evidently distinct. There mav be a 
 
 double 
 
 ' ' " ■^^—1 ■ ■ I N ■■ ■ II II ■ II I I . ■ I I ^ , 1 
 
 • Number I. p. 3. 
 
 ** I do not see the learned writer's reason for inserting 
 the word Epic, Aristode is here plainly speaking of tlie 
 Tragic fable, though he draws his illustration, indeed, 
 from an Epic Poem* 
 
 VOL, lU 1 
 
 <i 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 « 
 
 n 
 
 t< 
 
'■■*- 
 
 114 NOT E S. 
 
 double set of characters, where yet there is no 
 contrariety of catastrophe, but all ends well to alL 
 - — Such a fable, as Aristotle describes, though a 
 very different thing from our pbt and imder-ploty 
 yet, as it consists of opposite characters, opposite 
 interests, and opposite events, may well enough 
 be considered as of a double construction — Ji^Arjc 
 <7ura(r£«f. Unity of action, indeed, upon Aristotle's 
 principles, was essential both to the single and to 
 the double fable ; y^t that unity admits of degrees, 
 and the double fable was less strict It/ one action 
 than the single. The single fable might be com- 
 pared to a single stream : the plot and under-plot, 
 to two separate, though contiguous, and now and 
 then interminghng, streams: Aristotle's fable of 
 double construction, to two opposite collateral 
 currents, (if such a thing may be imagined,) in 
 the same channel. 
 
 NOTE 100. 
 P. 138. This kind of pleasure is not 
 
 THE PROPER PLEASURE OF TrAGEDY, BUT 
 BELONGS RATHER TO CoMEDY, &C. 
 
 What is the proper pleasure to be expected 
 from Tragedy, we have already been told, and 
 w'e are told again, more plainly, if possible, in tlie 
 next chapter. It is — »? aVo lXl^ xoti ^oPa *HAONH: 
 "the pleasure that- arises from pity and terror*." 
 
 Tb# 
 
 «M 
 
 Transl. Sect. 13, 
 
 NOTES. 11^ 
 
 The double fable Aristotle seems to liave con- 
 sidered as not giving this pleasure, or at least, as 
 giving it weakly and imperfectly, because all th« 
 imhappiness of the catastrophe falls on the odious 
 cliaracters^ the v^o$^a, trovv^ng. In the room of 
 this pleasure, which Tragedy ought to give, th« 
 double fable substitutes that of a satisfactory con- 
 clusion; a catastrophe accommodated to the 
 wishes of the spectator. But this, says Aristotle, 
 is a pleasure that rather belongs to Comedy than 
 to Tragedy: MAAAON mg xw/xwJ^iac crxaa. For 
 he k not here rejecting this double plan, but only 
 shewing why it is not, as some held it to be, th« 
 best, TT^uirn. Such Tragedies, he says, afford a 
 pleasure of the same kind, at least, with that 
 which Comedy affords; though Comedy indeed 
 goes farther i for there, all must end well; ene- 
 mies, as inveterate as Orestes and iEgisthus, 
 must shake hands at last, and the spectator must 
 be dismis$cd with no impression upon his mind, 
 but that of pure and unmixed pleasure. 
 
 If we understand the passage in this way, it 
 will not, I tliink, be necessary to suppose, what, 
 I own, I was once much inclined to suppose with 
 Heinsius, that the text is defective ; and that, after 
 the word iixrixi;, Aristotle had, originally, men- 
 tioned the third and worst kind of fable, termi- 
 nating in a happy event to all the characters ; to 
 which, and not to the second species, what follows 
 about Comedy was meant to be applied. Very 
 - 1 2 specious 
 
 V; 
 
hi > 
 
 .In 
 
 m 
 
 r 
 
 U6 N O T £ S. 
 
 specious reasons might certainly be produced in 
 support of such a conjecture, if it were necessary* 
 ' But we have no encouragement from MSS. to 
 suspect any omission, and the passage, as her© 
 explained, seems to have little, or no, difficulty. 
 The chief objection is, that what is here said of 
 Comedy is not applicable to the double Tragic 
 fable, in which there is no reconciliation of ene- 
 mies ^ &c. But it was not, I think, intended to 
 be so closely applicable. All that Aristotle meant 
 must have been, to shew,. that the pleasure arising 
 from his second species of fable, differed only in 
 degree from that of Comedy; that the circum- 
 stance of ending satisfactorily was common to 
 both *. 
 
 Chancers Monk had the true Aristotellc idea 
 of Tragedy : — 
 
 Tragedie is to sayn a certain storie, 
 
 As olde bookes maken u$ memorie, 
 
 Of him that stood in gret prosperitee. 
 
 And is yfalkn out of high degree 
 
 In to miser ie, and endeth wretchedly^, p 
 
 ^ See rfie note of Heinsius. — Castelvetro supposes 
 Aristotle to be answering a tacit objection — *' Why not 
 " a happy termination for all the characters, good and 
 " bad?" p. 294. 
 
 * The author of one of the arguments to the Oresies 
 of Euripides, says, to ^t ^^sLfjux KHMIKXITEPAN fpc" '^^ 
 
 ' Canterbury Tales, v. 13979. Mr. Tyrwhitt's ed.— 
 Chaucer, however, uses the word Tra^^dy in a loose 
 
 sense 
 
 NOTES. i,;p 
 
 But the knight, and the host, were among tlie 
 ^toLTxi A20ENEI2: 
 
 Ho ! quod the knight, good sire, no more of this; 
 
 That ye ban said is right ynough ywis. 
 
 And mochel more ; for litel hevinesse 
 
 Is right ynough to mochel folk, I gesse. 
 
 I say for me, it is a gret disesey [uneasiness] 
 
 Wher as men have ben in gret welth and ese. 
 
 To heren of hir soden fall, alas ! 
 
 And the contrary is joye and gret solas. 
 
 As whan a man hath ben in poure estate, 
 
 And climbeth up, and wexeth fortunat, 
 
 And ther abideth in prosperitee : 
 
 Swiche thing is gladsom, as it thinketh me. 
 
 And of swiche thing were goodly for to telle \ 
 
 NOTE 101. 
 
 p. 139. Who make use of the decora- 
 tion TO produce, not the terrible, but 
 
 THE MARVELLOUS ONLY ^ 
 
 One would think, that commentators on Aris- 
 totle might find enough in this work to satisfy the 
 
 keenest 
 
 -^^— — — — ^ 
 
 sense, (as Dr. Burney has observed. Hist, of Mus. vol. ii. 
 p. 320.) for a tragical story. And for this he seems to 
 have Plato's authority :— t«j te TPATIKHS srojixrew; 
 aTrrofMiVHf, h lafASsioig, KAI EN EIIESr. R^p, x.— And so 
 presently after,--'OMHPOT, h nat a?0^ nv®- TON TPA- 
 rXlfAlOnOmN : and he calls Homer ^urov t«v Tfay»- 
 ^OTom, See, also, p. 152, E. et^. Serr. vol, u 
 
 t V. 147 73> &«• 
 I3 
 
m 
 
 Hi**. 
 
 .I'l 
 
 
 I*! 
 
 t 
 
 ii8 K O T E S. 
 
 keenest appetite for difficulties, without anv assist* 
 ance from tneir own invention. Yet here, they 
 have contrived to perplex one of the plainest 
 passages that can be found. Nothing can well 
 be clearer than Aristotle's expression: — oi ^t MH 
 
 TO ^OBEPON, J'kx TTjf •vf/fwf, aAXa TO TKPATH- 
 AE2 MONON, Tr(x^x(rxivocl^ovrc<;. — He IS not, a5 
 
 some critics have supposed', examining here 
 three different ways of raising terrdr, but two 
 only; — by the plot itself, which he justly pro- 
 nounces to be the best way, and by the ^^n;, the 
 spectacle, scenes, dresses, &c. As for those Poets, 
 he continues, w^ho make use of the ©iJ/k, for the 
 purpose of exciting, not terror, but xoonder onlijj 
 they are out of the question ; this " has nothing 
 ** to do with Tragedy^'' &c- If Aristotle, by 
 Ts^aTojJ'ic, had. meant only, as has been understood, 
 a monstrous degree of the terrible — " mostruosOy 
 ^' soprano spavaitOy' as Castelvetro calls it ^ he 
 surely would not have used so strong an expres- 
 sion as— OTAEN T»j T^ayy^i» KOINHNOTSIN. 
 He does not here exclude even the n^xTUihq, ab- 
 solutely, and m general; but ih,Q mere ti^xTt^h^'y 
 n^oLTUiSiT MONON — " only the wonderful;" and 
 that, (f*« T*ij oj'swc The marvellous and super- 
 natural, may, we know, in the hands of a Poet of 
 genius, be made a powerful instrument of Tragic 
 
 tenor, 
 
 * Robonelli, Castelvetro, Piccolomini, Beni. 
 
 * p. 298. M. Batteux follows this interpretation; He 
 translates Tf^araJf^^ *' eff'rajuntr 
 
 N O T E S. 119 
 
 terror. Aristotle would hardly, I imagine, have 
 censured a drama like that of Macbeth, as havincr 
 " nothing in common with Tragedy'' 
 
 The difficulty, indeed, of managing the visible 
 n^arcahq^ SO as to produce any serious effect, is 
 sufficiently great. We have, I think, but one 
 dramatic Poet who could walk, though others 
 may have dared to walk, " within that circle.'* 
 The decoration of the Eumenides of ^schylus, 
 and his chorus oi fifty furies, with their /Auy/^o*, 
 and their wyjtAoI^, their snorings^ their screams, 
 and their torches, may very well be conceived to 
 have put women and children in a real fright ; 
 but whether it produced any sympathetic, illusive, 
 and pleasurable, terror — the only terror in ques- 
 tion ^ — 1 should much doubt. Yet Dacier, very 
 gravely, produces this story of children fainting 
 away, and women miscarrying, with the fright, as 
 an example of Tragic terror excited by the oij/*? % 
 According to Dacier's account, the allegorical 
 personage of Auo-o-a, or Madness, in the Hercules 
 Furens of Euripides, appears in her aerial car^ 
 *' with a hundred heads, roiaid which hiss a thaw 
 " sand serpents^!" It is rather difficult to 
 
 conceive 
 
 * See V. 116, &c. > 1 
 
 * See Dr. Campbcirs Fhilos. of Rhetoric, book I. 
 ch. ii. p. 323. 
 
 * P. 213, and 47, note 36. — The story Is told by the 
 anonymous writer of the life of iflschylus ; — urt ra (isf 
 
 * P. 215. 
 
 I 4 
 
f1- 
 
 
 tl. 
 
 hv 
 
 '■ t- 
 
 tio H O t K S. 
 
 conceive how tliis could have been managed. 
 These hundred heads, in the passage of the chorus 
 alluded to, v. 884, ceitainly belong to the serpents, 
 not to Av<r<rx herself; and the emendation of 
 Reiske seems probable; — UotroyxipaXoit 0<p{(^ 
 i»x^fxo^(ri. — *^ centicipitibus serpentum sibilis *.'* 
 Even so, I can scarce imagine an Athenian au- 
 dience to have received this exhibition with coun- 
 tenances perfectly Tragic. The arrival of old 
 Ocean mounted upon his Griffin, in the Prome- 
 theus of iEschylus, must, one would suppose, have 
 had as ridiculous an effect, as I remember the 
 entrance of the Minotaur to have had upon the 
 audience, some years ago, in the opera of Ttseo. 
 
 If such a dramatic entertainment as our Pan-- 
 
 iomime had existed in the days of Aristotle, he 
 
 would probably have represented the Tragic Poets^ 
 
 whom lie here censures, as encroaching on that 
 
 province : for, indeed, the ngo^TiahT i^ovoy (^ia ttij 
 
 •\J/f«? 7rocpa<r}ttvx^o[j.iyouy would accurately enough 
 
 express the »iV«vtjv olxnav^ of the pantomime.— -But, 
 
 what would the philosopher have said to a species 
 
 oi the drama, of which the O J/jf, which he places 
 
 at the very bottom of his scale [cap. vl], is the 
 
 very soul — d^x,^ xxi oioy ^v^rt : and where the 
 
 #x£uoTOi©>, or the carpenter,, takes tl^^e lead of the 
 
 Poet? — To do it justice, however, it has its Mu8^, 
 
 its fable^ such as it is, with its beginning, its niiddley 
 
 and its end\ though a spectator may be often 
 
 puzzled 
 • See »he Ox, Euripides, 
 
 NOTES. i2f 
 
 puzzled to make, as we commonly say, head or tail 
 of its plot It has also its $i(Tnq and its Auo-ik, its 
 ficeuds and its denouemens, in great abundance ; 
 being, indeed, from beginning to end, a continued 
 series of knots, tied by love, and cut by magic. 
 Here are also Tri^iinriixi and oivxyyi>ifi(rii<;, revo- 
 lutions, and discoveries, in plenty ; though the 
 chief revolution, indeed, be in the scenery ; — 
 
 Ti lU TO Ivxvriov Tiov 'OPXIMENXIN /XExajSoAn. And 
 
 with respect to discoveries, the pantomime may be 
 characterized as Aristotle characterizes the Odys- 
 sey, — oimyu(»>^iirni yx^ (TioAa — " it abounds througli- 
 *' out with discoveries*';" for the poor hero is 
 perpetually discovered, and very seldom sU pxix¥\ 
 Then there are Uxh too, disastei^s — the tt^x^eiq 
 livvnpxi ^ at least, which, to the upper gallery, make 
 the merriest part of the entertainment. An es- 
 sential character, the clown, is even appropriated 
 to this purpose of suffering, and his clothes well 
 wadded for the reception of blows, kicks, and 
 falls \ But Aristotle little foresaw, I suppose, 
 
 when 
 
 ^ Cap. xxiv. Transl. Part III. Sect. I. 
 
 • Cap. xi. * Cap, xii. init. 
 
 * The Germans, not many years ago, were, it seems, 
 so fond of this sort of humour, that Dr. Bumey tells us, 
 ** bills were regularly brought in to the managers at the 
 " end of each week, in which the comic actors used to 
 ** charge 5 *' So much for a slap on the face," — " So 
 *^ much for a broken head," &c. — Sec vol. i. of Dr. 
 Burney*s entertaining Journal of a Tour through Germany^ 
 ^c. p. 223, 
 
J!. '* 
 
 'i lit 
 
 
 122 NOTE S. 
 
 when he wrote his first chapter, that a species of 
 drama without words would one day be invented : 
 Still less, probably, could he have imagined, what 
 to the antients would have appeared the strangest 
 part of this business, that, tliougb accompanied 
 throughout by music, yet it would not imitate 
 "by gesticulated rhythyn'' — cTt* (rp^n/xan^o/iAEKirt^ 
 PTQMriN ; the gestures of the actors in panto- 
 mime, being not at all regulated by the measures of 
 the music, or only occasionally, and accidentally, 
 according to the ear, and inclination, of tlie per- 
 former ^. 
 
 NOTE 102. 
 
 P. 139. Most terrible, or piteous ,. 
 
 After having established, that the terrible and 
 piteous should arise from the circumstances of 
 the action itself, Aristotle proceeds to examine what 
 are the circumstances that will produce the highest 
 degree of terror and pity, within the proper limits ; 
 that is, so as to avoid what he calls the ^i«^<»i/, 
 the shocking, and disgusting. And this, perhaps, 
 led him here to use the words J«p«, and olxr^a, as 
 being, if I mistake not, rather stronger than (po^t^ot, 
 
 and 
 
 ^ The pantomimic exhibitions of the Romans, spoken 
 ©f in note 4, and described pretty fully by Lucian, 
 De Salt, were widely different. They were a species of 
 dance, and the gestures of the performers were strictly 
 governed by the rhythm of the music; the words, which 
 it was the business of the dancer to express by those ges- 
 tures, being sungy at the same time, by a chorus. 
 
 NOTES. 123 
 
 and tXtmot. For the subject of this chapter seems, 
 in short, to be, the proper management of the TioAn 
 or disastrous incidents : " Comment," as Dacier 
 has rightly observed, " on doit se conduire dans 
 " les actions atroces,' p. 236. Without this lead- 
 ing idea it would be difficult to explain satisfacto- 
 rily some passages that follow. 
 
 NOTE 103. 
 
 P. 140. Between friends. 
 
 El' rait ^tXiaK. — For the wide sense in which 
 Aristotle here uses the word ^*A*a, see Ethic, 
 Nicom. Vlll. 1, and 7, ed, Ox» 1716, and th« 
 passage quoted in note 276. 
 
 NOTE 104. 
 P. 140. But it is his province to invei^t 
 
 OTHER SUBJECTS, AND TO MAKE A SKILFUL 
 USE OF THOSE WHICH HE FINDS ALREADY 
 ESTABLISHED. 
 
 xaAwff. The expression is too short and general to 
 be clear. It is fairly capable of not less than 
 three different meanings. Eupio-xfii/, may mean^ to 
 invent a subject from pure imagination, as Agatho 
 invented his ANQOS * : or it may mean only, to 
 Jirul out a new historical subject ; or, lastly, to 
 invent, not a subject, but only circumstances and 
 incidents, by w hich the old subjects may be varied ; 
 
 which 
 
 — ■ ■ ■ - - . _ ^ — ^ 
 
 • Cap. ix. Transl. Pwt IL Sect. 6, 
 
p. 
 
 it 
 I 
 
 t'f. 
 
 « 
 
 it 
 
 124 NOTES. 
 
 which is Dacier's idea :—*' Le Poete doit inventer 
 lui-m^me, en se servant comme ilfaut des fabled 
 receues."— I shall only say, that, on the whole, 
 I prefer the second of these explanations. Aristode, 
 it is true, had allowed ^ that a Poet ought not to 
 be chained down to the old traditional stories; 
 and even, that it would be ridiculous (yiXoiov) to 
 suppose subjects of pure invention absolutely 
 prohibited. But this is delivered as a permission, 
 not as a precept ; and he would hardly have en- 
 forced a permission by such an expression as he * 
 here uses — h^itrxm AEI. Again — uiro^f ETPir- 
 KEIN, (against Daciers explanation,) seems plainly 
 
 opposed to TOK votfiOcMoixiyoig XPH20AI — " tO USC 
 
 " old subjects properly, and to invent ovfnd out 
 new subjects: not new incidents for an o/</sub- 
 ject.** This may, perfiaps, receive some illus- 
 tration and suppot-t from a similar passage in the 
 Rhetoric \ In the second chapter of the first 
 book, he divides the proofs of the orator into two 
 kinds — the «Ti;^ifa», and the hn^you The aTi;^vot 
 are the external proofs ; witnesses, the torture, 
 writings, and all such proofs as are ready provided 
 to the pleader's hand — oVa [An ^»' ^fAuv iFnrofi^»fy 
 mXXa ▼pouTTn/jp^cK. The t9Ti)(vok he defines to be 
 those argumentative proofs which depend on the 
 art and invention of the orator himself. He thea 
 concludes — an <^n TifT«#y, tok ^iv XPH2AX0AI, rtt 
 
 ti 
 
 u 
 
 ^ Cap. ix. Transl. Part. II. Sect. 6. 
 • It is quoted, I see, by Robortelli* 
 
 NOTES. 12^ 
 
 * ETPEIN :— " of these proofs, the first sort w» 
 " have only to make a proper use of; the other 
 " we must invent." 
 
 NOTE 105. 
 
 P» 142* But of all these ways, &c. 
 
 All this is not a little embrouilli. — Aristotk. 
 describes three ways only. Then he says, or 
 seems to say, — " There is no other way :" — •arxpca 
 TotuTflt ax iny «AA«j. And to prove this, he enu- 
 merates all the ways possible ; which, at last, turn 
 out to he four. Hence the text has been supposed 
 defective. [See Castelvetro ; and Goulston's sup- 
 plemental translation.] Perhaps there is no oc- 
 casion to suppose this. That, at least, there. is no 
 accidental omission of a fourth case, (that of 
 purposing without executing J seems pretty clear 
 
 from the expression ETI ^£ r^no¥ ira^x rauroir: 
 
 "* there is still a third way beside these.'' It would 
 have been rather strange, if, immediately after this, 
 he had proceeded to mention a fourth way. — 
 Taking then the passage as perfect, we must under- 
 stand, I think, by ix. E2TIN aXXwj, not— there is 
 no other way possible— hut, there is no other pro- 
 per, admissible way : non licet aliter — it must not 
 be done in any other way. For, he proceeds, there 
 are but/owr ways possible; but of all these, (rarwi^ 
 h'-i. e. these four possible ways,) that of being 
 " ready to execute, knowingly, and yet not exe- 
 ** cutlng^' is the worst, and not to be enumerated 
 
1^^ ^ 
 
 I4|. 
 
 ft 
 
 i 
 
 11 : 
 
 
 126 NOTES. 
 
 by a critic among those ways which a Poet may b# 
 allowed to use. 
 
 Thus Dacier appears to have understood the 
 passage, by his translation, which, I think, is right, 
 as to the sense. But I thought Aristotle's meaning 
 might be clearly enough expressed without peri- 
 phrasis, or supplement 
 
 KOTE 106. 
 
 V. 142. But the best of all these ways 
 is the last. 
 
 In the 13th chapter (Transl. Sect 12.) Aristotle 
 had pronounced that to be the best constituted 
 Tragedy, which terminates unhappily ; and had 
 represented that species, which gratifies, by its 
 catastrophe, the sympathetic wishes of the audience, 
 as inferior, and affording a kind of pleasure rather 
 appropriated to Comedy. Yet here, he appears 
 to give the preference to a plan calculated to afford 
 that very pleasure in the highest degree. This 
 seeming inconsistence has given the commentators 
 much trouble. It is rather surprising, that Dacier 
 should have perceived what had escaped the supe- 
 rior acuteness of the Italian annotators, viz, that 
 Aristotle is not, in this chapter, inquiring what is 
 the best constitution of a Tragic fable in general, 
 but, w hat is the best method of managing the most 
 disastrous and atrocious incidents of Tragic story, 
 •0 as to produce the highest possible degree of 
 5 Tragical 
 
 NOTES. 127 
 
 Tragical emotion in the spectator, without pro- 
 ducing horror and disgust*. With this view of the 
 subject, the reader, perhaps, will not see much 
 difficulty in reconciling Aristotle to himself. He 
 might surely say, without inconsistence, " Tragedy, 
 '* to be perfect, should terminate unhappily. 
 " Yet there may be particular exceptions to this 
 general rule. The e7id of Tragedy is, to excite 
 terror and pity ; and that end is most effectually 
 ** answered, when those emotions are not only ex- 
 cited in the course of the drama, (as they un- 
 doubtedly may be, and to a high degree, evea 
 in such pieces as end fortunately,) but are left 
 impressed upon the mind of the spectator by tha 
 catastrophe itself. Yet this Tragic terror is not 
 to be pushed to absolute horror^ nor the r^ayixot 
 to be confounded with the fxix^ov : and I allow, 
 ** that where the circumstances of the traditional 
 " story, from which the Poet takes his plot, are 
 ** such, as leave him only the alternative, either of 
 " disgusting and shocking the spectator, or of gra- 
 *' tifying his wishes, tlie latter is clearly to ba 
 ** preferred; and the iiirXn a-vrairig, the double 
 "* fable, to which I assigned only the second 
 " placet, will,m that particuhr case, deserve tha 
 ""Jirstr 
 
 Nothing seems more just, or more accurately 
 expressed, than Aristotle's idea of the end of Tra- 
 gedy.; that it is, " to give that pleasure which 
 
 arises 
 * Sec note 102. t Transl. vol. i. p. 137. ^ 
 
 i< 
 
 ii 
 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 u 
 
 a 
 
 u 
 
 a 
 
 fi 
 
 (6 
 
I 
 
 
 
 
 128 NOTES. 
 
 arises from pity and terror through imitation :' — ' 
 
 x«ua^£ik — cap.\\w, (Transl. Part II. Sect. 13.) But 
 the Greek Tragedians will be thought, I believe, 
 by most modern readers, to have sometimes pushed 
 this principle rather too far, and to have excited a 
 degree of horror, which even the charms of imi- 
 tation cannot well be conceived to have softened 
 into pleasurable emotion ; and it appears to me, 
 that Aristotle himself inclined to this opinion, and 
 that he intended this chapter as a lesson of caution 
 to the Poets against this excess. He seems plainly 
 to have considered the actual murder of a mother, 
 a son, a brother, and the like, as incidents rather 
 too horrible to be exhibited in any way. If the 
 deed must be done, let it, he says, if possible-—- 
 if the story will permit it — be done ignorantly. 
 But it will be still better, if you can avoid doing it, 
 entirely ; if you can contrive to make the expec* 
 tation, combined with the atrociousness of the event 
 expected, answer your purpose, by raising as mqch 
 anxiety, commiseration, and terror in the spec- 
 tator, as may consist with that pleasure which is 
 the end of Tragedy, and then relieving him at last, 
 by prevention ^t the very moment of execution. 
 That Aristotle thought the end of Tragedy might 
 be sufficiently answered by the mere expectation 
 of such events, properly managed, appears from 
 •his expression above : — «i uhxtp^ dhx^ov^ n m@» 
 
 H MEA- 
 
 H ME A AH* ^ 
 
 NOTES. r29 
 
 — raura ^nTriTiov, " When a brother 
 kills, or is goi?ig to kill,"' &e. 
 
 For this purpose, not only the expectation must 
 be such, that the action shall appear imminent and 
 inevitable, but the action itself expected must be 
 such, as, had it taken place, would have been 
 dreadful, '' intolerable,'' &c.— t» t«i- ANHKEX- 
 TX2N *, as Aristotle expresses himself in describino- 
 these prevented vxh. By these means, the emo- 
 tion of terror is brought as near as possible to that 
 't\ hich would arise from the actual perpetration \ 
 . If the purport of this chapter has been here 
 rightly explained, the reader will see how Aristotle 
 has been misrepresented by many modern critics, 
 who have understood him to recommend the 
 Cresphontes of Euripides as a model of the best 
 
 possible 
 
 • I find the same thing observed by Robortelll, whose 
 short comment is worth transcribing. '* Addit vera 
 
 Anstoteles — ti rcov amiHBruy : grave enim atroxque factum 
 " ilJud in Tragcediis esse oportet, quod aliquis patraturus 
 ** ferme fuerit, quia maximum afFert auditoribus terrorem, 
 " qui proprius TragcEdiae est, et admirationem incredi- 
 *' bilem. Aiunt enim, Quid si mact asset ? — quam parunt 
 ** abfuit a cade ! *' p. 1 60. 
 
 ** This is well observed, and well expressed, by Picco- 
 lomini, (p. 2 15, &c.) who, with Victor! us and other com- 
 mentators, confesses himself embarrassed by the seeming 
 inconiistenee of the author in this passage, and gives the 
 imminence "^of the perpetration as the only solution that 
 occurs to him. His comment is excellent, but too long 
 for transcription. I had not seen it when my remark^ 
 were written i but I was glad to find them so supported^ 
 
130 NOTES. 
 
 possible construction of a Tragic fable in general. 
 Thus Maffei, in the dedication of his Mcrope — 
 " Parla di essa Aristotele nella Poetica, dove 
 " trattando de' modi di ben comporre la favola^ d^ 
 " per eseinpio dtlC otthno il Cresfo?ite d' Euripides 
 " in cui Tatrocit^ veniva dalla ricognizione im- 
 •* pedita.'' — And Voltaire, in his letter to Maffei, 
 prefixed to the French Merope : " Aristote, dans 
 *' sa Poetique immortelle, ne balance pas h dire, 
 ** que la reconnoissance de Merope et de son fils, 
 *' etoit le moment le plus interessant de toute la 
 scene Grecque. II donnoit i ce coup de Thea- 
 tre la preference sur tons les autres^ 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 131 
 
 « 
 
 « 
 
 NOTE 107. 
 
 P. 142. Merope, &c, 
 
 Plutarch's account of the effect of this coup de 
 Theatre upon the audience, is worth transcribing, 
 though apparently incorrect 
 
 "ZKOTTit h Triv Iv TV T^ocyudM MEPOnHN, lirt 
 TOV VIOV «UT«V, US (povix TB w», veXbxvv eipuf(,tviiv , 
 x»t 'kiyiKTocv — 
 
 'OvMTipot.v ori Trjvo syu Mufu coi 
 YiKrfyviv - - r -- 
 
 ixrov Iv Tta GeuToto xivtifict -TTOiei, (ruvt^o^oia^acra 
 ipovn' [an, (poBai ?] xxi «®> jtMj (pScc<rv tov ImXetft- 
 (2ccyoiJ,ivov ysoovToc, kcu Tgwo"*! to [iet^ax.tov, — 
 [llsff la^Ko(p. p. 1837, ed. H. St."] 
 
 For otlier fragments of tliis Tragedy, the reader 
 way see the Ox. Euripides, 
 
 NOTE 108. 
 P. 143- The manners should be good. 
 
 Good, in the usual senseofwor^/ goodness; the 
 only sense which ;^,r«, applied to mamers, will 
 bear, and whicli, even though the word would ad- 
 mit of other senses, would here be fixed, beyond a 
 doubt, by the plain, unequivocal expression of the 
 whole passage. Dacier admires and follows the 
 nonsense of Le Bossu, who makes ;«,,« ,•«, mean 
 poeticalli, good; that is, well tmrked by the Poet • 
 in which sense, the rule is equally well observed 
 by Milton in his Satan, and by Richardson in his 
 , Grandison. " There are," according to this « best 
 « interpreter of Aristotle %" " deux sortes de 
 *' bontd dam les mceurs ; I'une que I'on peut ap- 
 '' peller morale, et qui est propre k la vertu : et 
 ''^ I'autre est la poetique, 4 laquelle les homrms les 
 " plus vtcieuT ont autant depart que ks gens de 
 " bien "." How could Mr. Harris, with his tho- 
 rough knowledge of the Greek language, and Ms 
 clear and exact turn of thinking in general, re- 
 commend all this, as " a >e and copious com- 
 *' mentary on this part of Aristotle's Poetics ' ? * 
 I shall not waste time in confuting, what has been 
 - - . sufficiently , 
 
 * Harris, On Music, &c. p. 83, note. 
 
 * Traite du Poeme £p. lib. iv. ^ . 4. • • 
 
 * See Phild. Inquiries, p. i66; and Le Bossu, lib.iv. 
 *' 4> S. «c. to which he refers. 
 
 K 2 
 
132 NOTES. 
 
 sufficiently confuted long ago^ — Ti? dxxn, row 
 ixvovT i7^^yiTccvuv ; — Dacier s note is a curious spe- 
 cimen of absurd interpretation supported by false 
 translation *. 
 
 The best comment I have seen on this passage 
 is that of Heinsius ; which I shall therefore give 
 entire. 
 
 " Caeterum, in moribus, quatuor tenenda esse 
 '* docet Aristoteles ; quorum pirimum est, ut sint 
 " bom. Quod est exponendum pluribus. — Inter 
 " ea quae quam niaxim^ in TragoediA reprehen- 
 '* debat Plato \ vel prcpcipuum hoc erat ; — quod 
 " nimirum varia, non uniformis, sit illius imitatio ; 
 " et occasione oblatA, probos juxta improbosque 
 '** imitetur ; nonnunquam autem improbos tan- 
 "*' turn : quo facillimfe animum, quod supra mo- 
 " nebamus, decipi humanum, qui dum solum 
 ^' respicit decorum^ quod propositum est illi, bojio- 
 ^' rum saepe, et vialorum, discrimen non agnoscit, 
 
 " et. 
 
 ** Bv Mr. De la Barre. See Mem. dc PAcad, &c. his 
 second Diss, Sur U Poeme Epique. See also M. Batteux's 
 satisfactory note on this passage. 
 
 • Aristotle says plainly, the ^9®- will be x^°^> if the 
 9rfoaif£(ri$ is xfi^. ^^^ the contrary: — pczu>>ov ixtv, [sc. nS®- 
 clti j iov pawMv [sc. ir^oou^iaiv xojti f av£fav,] xfirov ^f, fay xfn- 
 rw. See, now, Dacier's version of this : " 11 y a des moeurs 
 *' dans un xliscours, ou dans une action, Icrsque Tun et Tantrc 
 ^* font connoitre Tinclination ou la resolution telle qu'ellc 
 ^* est, mauvaise si elle est mauvaise, bonne si elle est bonnet 
 
 ' See De Rep. iii. p. 394, 395, &c« (Ed. Sfrr,) — tbf 
 passages here alluded to. 
 
 „ NOTES. ,3j 
 et, ut ipse Poeta, utrosque mores imitatur ; quo 
 1^' nihil magis in "republicA pernitiosum excogitari 
 "^^ potest. Quippe ratione ist;\ scholam vitiorum, 
 ^* non virtutum, fieri theatrum ; et quidem quanto 
 " magis banc in partem inclinamus omnes. Prse- 
 'I terea, iiiterpretes Platonis— alium admitti ab eo 
 " negant Poetam, quam qui omni varietate 
 sublatA, Deum et bonorum virorum actiones 
 ♦^' imitetur » ; cjetera enim delectare quidem, non 
 " autem docere ; plerumque vero mores vitiare ac 
 ^1 corrumpere, ideoque nocere magis quam pro- 
 "^^ desse. Huic ut occurreret Philosophus, primum 
 " hoc de moribus praceptum esse voluit, probi ut 
 " essent ; tales enim esse in Tragcediii non modo 
 " posse, quod negabat Plato, sed et, guantum 
 " ratio poematis permitteret, dtbere. Confirmant 
 ^^ hoc excmpla tragicorum; qui sine uWk lege 
 ^'' banc tamen legem sunt secuti. Etiam poste- 
 " riores critici, qui nonnullas vetcrum hoc nomine 
 "^^ notarunt, quod aut omnes, aut pkrasque, pessime 
 " moratas haberent personas. Qualis est, ex. 
 "^ grat. Euripids Orestes; in quo, priEter Pykden,' 
 " improbi omnium sunt mores ». Neque enim 
 ^ " hte c 
 
 _ • Plato says, the Poets should be obliged, r..r« <iya& 
 
 imimc good charaaers, or not to imitate at all."— i?^A iif 
 p. 401.B. ^' 
 
 • « He alludes, I suppose, to the censure passed upon that 
 1 ragedy in one of the arguments prefixed : to fca^a t<.» 
 tTi <r«or.«f tiiomiMnm,, XEtPJ2T0N AE TOJS H0£ZI- 
 !^•^^l^ yaj tt/A«Ja, wann favhot war. 
 
 K3 
 
 C< 
 
 « 
 
 t 
 
134 NOTES. 
 
 *^ hsec mens Aristotelis, aut non alios quani optimfe 
 " moratx)s, esse inducendos, aut, si alii inducantur, 
 " quos fuisse improbos constat, probos iis tribu- 
 " endos esse mores : sed, ut, quantum ratio per- 
 ^* viittity plures optimh morati in eodem inducantur 
 ** dramate. Quamvi§ enim et utrique requiruntur, 
 *' et tarn horum quam illorum ratione constet dc- 
 *' corum, probos tanto esse praeferendos, quanto 
 *' plus conducunt cum spectantur \" 
 
 To do full justice to Aristotle's meaning, it must 
 be observed, i . That what he says should be un- 
 derstood chiefly, though by no means solely^ as 
 some have explained it*, of the principal cha- 
 racters, 2. That the word X^nr®* does not imply 
 a character of high and exemplary virtue. It 
 seems to answer to our popular expression, a good 
 sort of man ; and it excludes absolutely, only 
 habitual vice, bad disposition, irovyipioc, MOX0HPIA, 
 as it is expressed in a passage that should be com- 
 pared with tliis''. 3. That tlie rule, even with 
 
 respect 
 
 ' De Trag. Comtit. cap. xlv. 
 
 * So M. Batteux ; and Marmontel, Poet, Franplse, 
 11. 181, who defends die true sense of xfira h^, but says, 
 that '^ the interesting personage of the piece is die only one 
 *' whom Jurist otle had in vievjP But, Aristotle instances 
 in Mcnelaus, who certainly is not ** le personnage into- 
 « ressanty* in the Orestes. His instance of slaves, too> 
 $hews the precept to be general, 
 
 ^ Cap. %xv. at the end, where this fault in the manners 
 
 is expressed dius — O^^nh imrifja^ii MOX0HPIA' orof 
 
 f«Ji av^yxn^ k<n\i, «.t.«a, — See^ Transl, Part IV. Sect. 7. 
 
 NOTES. 13J 
 
 respect to such characters, is not absolute ; as is 
 evident from Aristotle's expression, when he gives 
 an example of the violation of it, trx^x^nyiAK 
 'Koyn^ix(; MH ANAFKAION : and, again, in cap. xxv. 
 hccy MH ANAFKHS 'OTSHI, x.r.aX.— 4. That 
 what he presently adds, «rt h iv Utxrtii yivBi \ is a 
 necessary modification of the precept, and shews, 
 tliat he did not mean, as Heinsius well observes, 
 to exclude comparative badness of manners, but 
 meant only — as good as may be, consistently with 
 the observance of the other requisites mentioned — 
 the oiofAOTToVf and the ofAOiov. 
 
 The reason of the precept, Aristotle has not 
 given us. But, it appears, I think, clearly, from 
 his substituting tlie word BAABEPA f hurtful, per^ 
 niciousy) for f^o^^fi^x, or irovn^x, in his enumeration 
 of the greatest faults of Poetry at the end of 
 cap. xxv "". that, however he might differ from Plata 
 as to the hurtful -tendency of Tragedy, and of 
 imitative Poetry in general, he so far at least agreed 
 with him, as to admit the danger of those poe- 
 tical, embellished, and flattering, exhibitions of 
 vice, in which, as one of the most eloquent, and 
 I might add, the most Platonic \ of modern 
 
 writers 
 
 ■ 
 
 ' What he means by yfv^, is explained in the Rhet, JI. 
 7. — Xpyw ^£, FENOS fjLev, koS y{KmaN' oiov ttui; vj aw)^, n 
 yt^m, — MM ytm moi awi^' — xai AoucuVj h ©ettoX®-, &c. 
 
 " Transl. Part IV. Sect. 7.— See, note 260. 
 
 ■ On this subject especially. See his whole letter to 
 M. D'Alcmbert against die establishment of a Theatre at 
 Geneva. 
 
 K4 
 
 6-1 
 
<i 
 
 <i 
 
 136 ^ NOTES. 
 
 ivriters expresses it,—*-' L auteur, pour faire parler 
 " chacun selon son caractere, est lorc6 de mettre 
 ** dans la bouche des mediants leurs maximes, et 
 " leurs principes, revetus de tout Teclat des beaux 
 " vers, et debit6s d un ton imposant et sententieux, 
 " pour rinstruction du parterre °." Witii respect 
 to characters of atrocious villany, such as that of 
 Gienalvon in Douglas, which ca?i excite only pure 
 detestation, I believe the ideas of Plato, and per- 
 haps of Aristotle, were very nearly, if not exactly, 
 the same, which this admirable writer has expressed 
 in the concluding note of his Nouvelle Eloise. — 
 En achevant de relire ce recueil, je crois voir 
 pourquoi I'interet, tout foible qu'il est, m en est 
 ** si agr^able, et le sera, je pense, k tout lecteur 
 " d'un bon naturel. C est qu'au moins ce foible 
 " inter^t est pur et sans melange de peine ; qu'il 
 *' n'est point excite par des iioircturs, par des 
 *' crimes, ni mel6 du tourment de hair, Je ne 
 ^' sf aurois concevoir quel plaisir on pent prendre 
 ^' a imaginer et composer le personnage d'un see-* 
 " lerat, a se mettre h sa place tandis quon le 
 ^* repr^sente ^, a lui pretcr Teclat le plus imposant. 
 
 " Je 
 
 ** Letire a D'Alembert, p. 54. — Plato, after ciring some 
 verses of Homer which he conceived to have a pernicious 
 tendency, says, that he reprobates them — »x: ^J « 'roirrruca 
 uai v]ha roig 7ro>^oig aKHHv, oX^' '02X1 1 nOIHTIKXlTEPA, 
 TOSOTTOi HTTON ^AKOTSTEON '^cciji nai ayS^ocri, 
 &c. — De Repub, iii. circ, init, 
 
 P In Plato's figurative and expressive language — iounov 
 hcfAOTTeLV T£ xai curavai si; t8$ tuv kcdhovuv TVTTtfj, Kep, ilL 
 
 p. 396, — And see before; p. 395, C, D, 
 
 NOTES. i^y 
 
 *' Je plains beaucoup les auteurs de tant de Tra- 
 " gedies pleines d'horreurs, lesquels passent leur 
 '' vie k faire agir et parler des gens qu on ne peut 
 " 6couter ni voir sans ^ouffrir," &c. 
 
 NOTE 109. 
 
 P. 143-44. In general, women are, per- 
 haps, RATHER BAD THAN GOOD. 
 
 " Aristote," says M. Batteux, " ne parte pas 
 " ici des Jemmes en gherdl, mais seulement de 
 " celles que les Poetes ont rnises sur le Theatre, 
 " telles que Medee, Clytemnestre," &c. This 
 is polite; but it will not make Aristotle polite. 
 He speaks plainly ; and what he says is, I fear, 
 but too conformable to the manner in which the 
 antients usually speak of the sex in general. At 
 least, he is certanily consistent ^with himself: wit- 
 ness the following very curious character of women 
 in his History of Animals, which I give the reader, 
 by no means for his assent, but for his wonder, or 
 his diversion. 
 
 <I>IAOAOIAOPON ^aXXoi/, xa/ nAHKTIKXlTE- 
 
 PON •• BTi Ib KXi Sv(rQv[MV flOCXXoV ' KM 
 
 _ SucrBXTtTt, 
 
 • Ih^TuccoTi^ov (i. e.)TBPl2TIKXlTEPON,says Hesy- 
 cliius. I am afraid the word means what it says. Jul. 
 Pollux gives it as one of the epithets of a boxer. We 
 
 wight translate it, with weU-bred ambiguity^ ^^ more 
 striking:* 
 
138 NOTES. 
 
 Sv(ri\'srt, ycoci ANAIAE2TEPON KAI TEYAEr- 
 TEPON, Bucx,wocrviTOTtpov re, rtoci fjCvrf^oviyccoTBoov' 
 In Jg, ArPrnNOTEPON »» KAI 'OKNHPO- 
 TEFON }CM oXcog ocKivrjTpTB^ov — Jd.r.aX. — [Z)e 
 Hisf. A7iimaL lib. ix. cap. 1.] 
 
 To make the reader amends for the pain which 
 this cool and serious invective of the philsopher and 
 the naturalist may have given him, I cannot resist 
 the temptation of presenting him with a specimen 
 of more sportive satire on this subject, in a very 
 pleasant fragment, preserved by Athenaeus, from 
 a Comedy of Eubulus. 
 
 XI Zeu iroXuTifMiT ^ u Kocrcug lyu 'ttotb 
 
 "Epu yvvuMxg, vff At oc7roXoi[4,fiv aou.-'-^ 
 
 TlocvTwv uptg-ov jcTrjfJLocTcov. 6<o lyevsTO 
 
 KocTcrj yvvrj Mijde/a, UrjvBXoTrBia Se 
 
 Meyoc Tr^cty/JL. — e^n rig ug KXvroct[jiVfjg'^oc KUKfj ;— ^ 
 
 AXxvig-iv ocvTsdyjX^a, XBV^V- — aXX icreag 
 
 ^ociCduv 6P£i KocKcag Tig' — aXXa, vvf A/a, 
 
 Xpvjg-f} Tig riv fjLBvroi Tig 'y — olfioi^ Jls/Xflfi©.*— 
 
 Tux^uQ yB [jC di XPHSTAI FTN AIKEE iTreXiTfov. 
 TuvS' uu nONHPXlN In XsyBiv 'jroXXug \x^' 
 
 If ever against woman-kind I rail, 
 Great Jupiter confound me ! — for of all 
 The good things of this world, they are the best. 
 Medea, you will say, was bad: — agreed; 
 But, what a jewel was Penelope! 
 
 Urge 
 
 * i. e. — " more able lu Kccjt 
 * time, more lazy^ than men. 
 
 to keep late hours^ and, at the same 
 I men." 
 
 ^ O T E S. ,3^ 
 
 Urge you the wicked Clytemnestra ?~l, 
 Oppose the oY?o(/ Jto^/k— If you tell me 
 Of Ph(Pdra,—l remind you of the good, 
 
 —Stay, let me see— the good Alas ! how soon 
 
 My memory fails me there ; while, of the bad. 
 Examples in abundance still occur. 
 
 See A then. p. 559, or the Excerpta ex 
 Trag, &c. of Grotius, p. 657. 
 
 NOTE 110. 
 
 P. 144. Resemblance a different 
 
 THING, &C. 
 
 The words, i(T'mo il^nrxt, are embarrassing ; for 
 the difference here spoken of had not been men- 
 tioned before, as the expression, in its most ob- 
 vious sense, implies. The only meaning I can 
 find is this. The two requisites, the d^fj^orrop and 
 the oiMoiov, propriety, and resemblance, might easily 
 be confounded ; the o>o,oi. being indeed only the 
 u^fMOTTov in another point of view. The violence and 
 fierceness of Medea, for example, which form her 
 historical or traditional character, and, therefore, 
 the likeness of the Poet's picture, maybe said to be 
 a>^oTTOi.T«, proper or suitable, with respect to the 
 
 individual, though «V^.^, h«. ^, aVorro.m, im^ 
 
 proper and unsuitable, to the general character of 
 
 the sex—And thus Piccolomini :-" k terza con- 
 
 . I' ditione che assegna Aristotele k i costumi, la 
 
 *' qual consiste in esser simile, non differisce della 
 
 " seconda, 
 
 
C( 
 
 ,(( 
 
 (C 
 
 IC 
 
 u 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 a 
 
 140 NOTES. 
 
 " seconda, posta nell' esser convenevoli, in altro, 
 " se noil che la conditione del convenevolc ri- 
 guarda Vuniversale; com' k dire, che quel 
 costume convenga ad un principe, quello ad un 
 suddito, quello a Tuomo, &c. — senza considerar 
 questa pkrticolar persona, 6 quella : e la con- 
 ditione del simile riguarda il particolare ; come 
 k dire, qua! costume convenga di porre in uno 
 che habbia da rappresentar' Achille ; qual in 
 quello che habbia da representare Oreste,'' &c. 
 (p. 220.) 
 
 Indeed, Aristotle would hardly have thought of 
 admonishing the reader not to confound the two 
 things, had he not seen that tliey were liable to be 
 confounded. He would not have remarked, that 
 they were different, had they been perfectly, and 
 obviously, distinct, I think then, that the words, 
 toOTTff fipt)T«i, must refer only to the a,^i/.orroy, and 
 the meaning must be, that, to make the manners 
 like, is a different thing not only from making them 
 good^ but even from making them proper, in such 
 a way as had been said — in that sense, in which 
 the word i^fxorrovrx had just been used, and ex- 
 plained by his instance. But if we understand 
 the passage thus, there should be Ho stop after 
 
 iron>i<rxi 
 
 But, 
 
 * By Piccolomini's version, (for he says nothing about 
 this di£Eculty in his commentary,) it appears that he 
 
 understood 
 
 NOTES, ' x4r 
 
 But, why does Aristotle mention at all, a dif- 
 ference so very obvious as that between resem- 
 ilance, and goodness, of manners .^—T^e^e two 
 requisites could not easily be confounded, any 
 more than likeness and beauty in a portrait. There 
 wa5 more danger of a reader's thinking the ojao^oi, 
 too different from the ^e^Jrov, and, as a general 
 precept, incompatible with it. And so indeed he 
 seems to have apprehended himself, by what he 
 presently after says »» about the ^i^Lc^o-i? ^^Xnoyi^v, 
 and his rule, that the Poet, in imitation of the 
 painter, should exhibit his characters as much 
 better than they were, or are supposed to have 
 been, as is consistent with the preservation of 
 the likeness. 
 
 NOTE 111. 
 
 P. 144. Though the model of the Poet's 
 
 IMITATION BE SOME PERSON OF UNUNIFORM 
 MANNERS, STILL THAT PERSON MUST BE RE- 
 PRESENTED AS UNIFORMLY UNUNIFORM. 
 
 ilMo^Xug di/u)fxmXoy $11 bIvxi. " which last words," 
 
 says an eminent writer, " having been not at all 
 
 *' understood, 
 
 understood the passage as I do : '^ — essendo cosi fatta 
 " conditione diversa dall' esser' i costumi formati buoni, 
 e ancora convenevoli fid modo che gia si e demy 
 
 * At the end of this Sect, of the translation j and of 
 «ap.xv. of the, original. 
 
 4( 
 
<c 
 
 <i 
 
 i< 
 
 142 NOTES. 
 
 " understood, have kept his interpreters from 
 '' seeing the true sense and scope of the precept. 
 ^* For they have been explained of such characters 
 '' as that of Tigellius in Horace; which, how- 
 " ever proper for satyr, or for farcical Comedy, 
 *' are of too fantastic and whimsical a nature to 
 be admitted into Tragedy ; gf which Aristotle 
 must there be chiefly understood' to speak, and 
 to which Horace, in this place, alone confines 
 " himself. Tis true, indeed, it may be said, 
 " that * though a whimsical ox fantastic character 
 *^ be improper for Tragedy, an irresolute one is 
 '' not. Nothing is finer than a sti'uggle between 
 '' different passions; and it is perfectly natural, 
 *^ that in such a circumstance, each should prevail 
 by turns/— But then there is the widest differ- 
 ence between the two cases. Tigellius, with 
 all his fantastic irresolution, is as uniform a 
 " character, as that of Mitio, If the expression 
 *' may be allowed, its very i?iconsistC7ict/ is of the 
 *^ essence of its uniformity. On the other hand, 
 " Electra, torn with sundry conflicting passions, 
 *' is most apparendy, and in the properest notion 
 " of the word, ununiform. One of the 8tron<yest 
 " touches in her character is that of a high, heroic 
 spirit, sensible to her own, and her family's 
 injuries, and determined, at any rate, to revenge 
 them. Yet no sooner is this revenge perpe- 
 *' trated, than she softens, relents, and pities. 
 [^ Here is a manifest ununiformity^ which can, in 
 5 *« BO 
 
 « 
 
 u 
 
 ti 
 
 « 
 
 it 
 
 €i 
 
 t< 
 
 4C 
 
 a 
 
 NOTES. ,43 
 
 no proper sense of the expression, lay claim to 
 the critic's oV«xo», but may be so managed, by 
 •' the Poet's skill, as lo become consistent with 
 the basis or foundation of her character, that 
 IS, to be ojAxXu! diui>.xXov. And that this, in 
 fact, was the meaning of the critic, is plain 
 " from the similar example to his own rule, given 
 " in the case of Tphigenia: which he specifies 
 " (how justly, will be considered hereafter) as an 
 instance of the iv^^ocxs, irregular, or ununi- 
 frrrm, character, ill-expressed, or made incon- 
 sistent. So that the genuine sense of the 
 precept is, ' Let the manners be uniform ;' or, 
 if ununiform, yet consistently so, or uniformly 
 ununiform :' exactly copied, according to the 
 reading here given, by Horace. Whereas in the 
 other way, it stands thus : ' Let your characters 
 be uniform, or unchanged ; or, if you paint an 
 ununiform character (such as Tigellius) let it bs 
 ununiform all the way; i.e. such an irregular 
 " character to the end of the play, as it was at 
 " the. beginning; which is, in effect, to say, let it' 
 
 be uniform:' which apparently destroys the 
 ** latter part of the precept, and makes it an un- 
 " meaning tautology with the former *." 
 
 I have given this passage entire, that the reader 
 may have it fully in his power to judge, for him- 
 self, whether I mistake or misrepresent the mean- 
 
 U 
 
 u 
 
 (( 
 
 it 
 
 <( 
 
 <( 
 
 it 
 
 *c 
 
 44 
 
 4( 
 
 4( 
 
 4( 
 
 I 
 
 102 
 
 ' Comment, on the £p. to the Pisos, &c. vol. L 
 f. 104, &c. 
 
144 N O T E S, 
 
 ing of any part of it. I should be sorry to be 
 thought capable of a perfect confidence in my own 
 opinion, however carefully and deliberately formed, 
 when it is opposed by that of such a writer. But, 
 after having repeatedly considered this comment, 
 as it certainly deserves to be considered, with all 
 the attention in my power, I am obliged to con- 
 fess, that it does not satisfy me, and that the com- 
 mon interpretation still appears to me to stand its 
 ground. — My reasons are these : 
 
 1. I cannot think, that ^i/cA change, irresolution^ 
 and temporary inconsistence as arises from " con- 
 *^ flicting passions^'' comes under the meaning of 
 Aristotle's 'H0O2 «\«/xaXo»'. — H0<^, is the pre- 
 vailing disposition^ the habitual w^oxi^iwiq^ or settled 
 character. " Electra," it is said, " torn with 
 " sundry conflicting passions^ is most apparently, 
 .** and in the properest sense of the word, ununi- 
 ** form'' Not so, I think, in Aristotle s sense of 
 the word akwjuax®*, as expressly applied by him 
 here to ih, or manners. The irregularities of 
 conduct^ or of sentiment and speech, arising from 
 passion^ seem to be a distinct thing from such as 
 imply a change of the fixed, prevailing »?9©^, or 
 characteristic manners of the person. When such 
 passionate ununiformity as that above described 
 in Electra, is so managed by the Poet's skill, *' as 
 " to become consistent .with the basis or founda- 
 " tionofher character,' that character is noty 
 then, I think, as the ingenious critic considers it 
 
 to 
 
 ^ O T E S. r45 
 
 to be, o>«Xc^f dvtcixoLXoy, I e. (as it is expressed in 
 the beginning of the following note, p. 127.) ^* an 
 '' ununiform character justly sustained, or, uni- 
 " formly ununiform:" it is not, if I understand 
 Aristotle rightly, dvu^^^o^Xoy at all, in Aw sense; for 
 he speaks only of anomalous manners ; and ano- ' 
 malous manners, plainly, cannot be made ** con-^ 
 " sistent with the basis or foundation of a clia- 
 " racter," in any other sense, than as that very 
 anomaly itself constitutes the character. And 
 this I take to be Aristotle's meaning : for he is 
 speaking of that anomaly, in which difterent cha- 
 racters, not, in which " different /^^^^/(?;2^, prevail 
 by turns." 
 
 2. The very expression,— x'a. ya,^ ANHMAAOS 
 
 TIX j Tfiv fAiiArifnv voc^ix^y, *** TOIOTTON H0OS 
 
 vVoT»9iK, seems plainly to indicate an ununiform 
 character, such as he explains by the o>^x«c 
 dvujiAuXQv that follows.— a»w^fitA(^ TIS— an ano- 
 malous person: i.e. a person of inconsistent 
 ma7iners, or character. This expression seems 
 hardly applicable, without violence, to such casual 
 and merely apparent inconsistence, as arises from 
 conflicting passions, and is reconcilable with " the 
 basis or foundation of a character. \ 
 3. " The genuine sense of the precept," we 
 are told, '' is, Let the manners be uniform; or, if 
 " ununiform, yet cmisistently so, or uniformly 
 " ununiformr But, consistently, and unformly, 
 seem to present different ideas. Aristotle s word, 
 
 ' a 
 
146 NOTES. 
 
 i{jf.xXuiy presents only the latter of these: — uni" 
 /or////y— that is, more literally, egiwllj/ *, evenly, 
 &c. it does not, I think, answer at all to amm- 
 tentlijy in the sense in which it is evidently 
 applied, in this explanation, to what is not in- 
 congruous — not unaccountable, &c^ Had tliis, 
 therefore, been Aristotle's meaning, he would, 
 probably, have used, either «IxoT«f, or fu^oywf, or 
 some other such word appropriated to that mean- 
 ing ; not 9iMxXuiy w hich is never, as far as I know, 
 used in the sense of comistently, 
 
 4. But it is objected, that if we take c/x^"f 
 dvuiJ.»Kov to mean " uniform all the way^ i. e. such 
 " an irregular character to the end of the play, 
 ** a3 it w^a^ ^t the beginning," this, " is, in effect 
 " to say, let it be uniform; which apparently 
 destroys the latter part of the precept, and 
 makes it an unmeaning tautology with the 
 " former." — The first part of the precept, I 
 think, is, Let the manners be uniform ; or, as we 
 3ay, of apiece. Now to tljis an objector might 
 
 ♦ In Horace's character of TigeUtuSy UbA. sat.^. "Nil 
 «* .EQUALE,'' is, ihv 'OMAAON. And so, " Vixit in- 
 '« iEQUALis"— «ra)/i«xx©-, in sat. 7. lib, ii. of Priscus, 
 another character of the same stamp, « Vertumnis, 
 *^ quotquot sunty natus inlquis,^* v. I4. 
 
 *» Thus, in the next note—" All these considerations 
 «« put together, Electra might assist at the assassination 
 *' of her mother, consistently with the strongest feelings 
 *« of piety and a8Fection/' Notes on the Ep. to the 
 Pisos, p. 112. 
 
 u 
 
 a 
 
 <i 
 
 ii 
 
 << 
 
 <•' 
 
 u 
 
 it 
 
 t( 
 
 u 
 
 IS 
 
 NOTES. i^y 
 
 say,—" This cannot be an indispensable rule ; 
 " unifonnity cannot be essentially requisite to the' 
 manners : for, what, if the Poet should take 
 for the subject of his imitation a person whose 
 manners are not uniform?"— The answer, or 
 second part of the precept," is,-« then, that 
 want of uniformity must be such as constitutes 
 ^^ the rery character itself; for tliis falls within 
 " the rule; the ' very inconsistency' of the cha- 
 " racter (to use the ingenious critic's own words,) 
 being, in this case, ' of the essence of its uni- 
 formity.' " I confess I do not here perceive any 
 thing that can properly be called tautology; for 
 though the philosopher says, indeed, in the second 
 part of the precept no more than he meant to say 
 in the Jirst ; yet he plainly apprehended it was 
 more than he might be understood to say, and 
 therefore he subjoined this necessarj' explanation. 
 What he says is, in short, only this—" Let the 
 " manners be uniform : an ununiforni character 
 " is no exception to this rule '." 
 
 _^ The 
 
 * Le Bossu ohseives, very well, in explaining this rule, 
 ihat whenever the Poet admit* this inequality of manners, 
 ., ! ''°".''."" fa're remarquer aux auditeurs, que cette 
 '^ megalite est un caractere qu'il dome exprh a un person- 
 " "age." Livre iv. cK. 7. The following comparison is 
 no unhappy illustration of Aristotle's precept. " 11 arrive 
 " quelquefois qu'une meme personne est ^^a/^ ^r/W^a/* 
 « {iluc^Mi A«/«(^(^) en meme terns. Parceque le carac 
 « tere, qui dans la plus-part des hommcs ressemble au 
 
 " soleil, 
 
 I. a 
 
 % 
 
 -^Hlf 
 
148 NOTES. 
 
 Tl)€ Tifrellius of Horace offered liiinself natu- 
 turally enough, upon tliis occasion, to the com- 
 mentators, as an illustration. We need not, how- 
 ever, 3uppose Aristotle to have thought of so very 
 fantastic and comic a species of incoherence. 
 Mutability and caprice are sometimes found in 
 higher characters, where they are less ludicrous 
 in their appearance, and, sometimes, very serious 
 in their effects. And though, perhaps, any character 
 of the kind may have too much of a comic cast 
 to accord with our ideas of Tragic dignity, we 
 have no reason to cohclude, tliat it would have 
 found the same difficulty of admittance upon tlie 
 Greek stage, where the Tragic muse did, not 
 unfrequently, condescend to be seen, ** Aak^voiv 
 
 I shall only add to- this note the following pas- 
 sage from the commentary of Victorius, which 
 appears to me to explain well, in few words, the 
 meaning, and the spirit, of Aristotle's precept. 
 ** Studens ostendere quantopere hoc praeceptum 
 
 custodiendum sit, aflirmat, si quis fort^ 
 
 varins dissimilisque sibi inductus ^e/;2c7 sit, eum, 
 talem in omni facto totius fabulae servandum 
 essp, tit cB/uabilitas d Poet A custodiatur in 
 iiaturd ilia ivcequabili osfendaidd : quod non 
 fieret, si aliquis levis, nee in eodum proposito 
 
 *^ })ermanens, 
 
 a 
 
 <( 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 iC 
 
 " soleil, dont Tegallre cousiste a paroitre tojours le meme, 
 " en d'autrcs ressemble a la Uinc, dont regalit6 n'est qu*a 
 *' changer quatrc fois dc faces en un mois.*' — Ik p. 450. 
 
 NOTES. x^9 
 
 ^'* permanens, inductus, paul6 posted firmus et 
 " obstinati animi fingeretur. Si morum igitur 
 '' itKcqualitas naturague inconstantia constanter 
 ^1 servanda est, quanta magis natura indoksque 
 " stabilk, par sibi ac jugis ad extremum servari 
 " debet." 
 
 NOTE 112. , 
 
 P. 144. We have ax example of man- 
 ners UNNECESSARU.y BAD, IN' THE CHARACTER 
 
 OF Menelaus, &C. 
 
 Mr. Potter, in the introduction to his translation 
 of ttie Orestes, says of tiiis passage, that it " may 
 •' be considered as a mysterious oracular sentence, 
 " which wants an expounder." I can only say! 
 that I tijink the commentators would have reason 
 to congratulate themselves, if no sentence of this 
 mangled work wanted an expositor more than this. 
 WheUier we read «Vayx«.o», or i>xy^x,H ;— &n 
 unnecessary example of bad manners, or an exam- 
 ple of unnecessary badness of nwnners ; tlte sense 
 seems evidently the same: and that Aristotle 
 could not mean, what the excellent translator of 
 ^schylus and Euripides seems to think he might 
 mean— to ''excuse the Poet upon the, necessity'^ 
 sufficiently appears from anotlier passage, at tiie 
 end of ttie 25th diapter, [Transl. "part IV^ 
 Sect. 7.] where this character is again mention^ 
 as an instance of vitious manners, excused by no 
 
 ^ 3 neces- 
 
150 NOTES. 
 
 necessity — fx)i oivxym<; ^<r»j;. — Mr, Potter com- 
 plains of " the little light which the passage 
 " derives from the connexion :" I tliink without 
 reason. For as the other examples given are 
 examples of the molatiui of his other precepts, 
 relative to propriety, and unlfonnityy of manners^ 
 the connection plainly indicates this to be an ex- 
 ample of the similar violation of his first rule — 
 that the manners should be good. So far, then, 
 seems to be clear. In what particular view Aris- 
 totle thought the badness of the character not 
 necessary, aiay be, indeed, less clear. I should 
 suppose him to mean, that the historical, or tra- 
 ditional, character of Menelaus, and the obser- 
 vance of the 0|t*a*oTf, by no means obliged Euripides 
 to paint him in * such colours. With respect to 
 the plea, that it was necessary, because " the 
 *' drama could not," otherxvise, ** have been 
 *" worked up to this terrible height of Tragic 
 " distress," Aristotle's answer would, perhaps, 
 have been similar to that which he mak^s upon 
 another occasion : — e. e. the Poet should not, 
 originally, have so constructed his plan, as to 
 bring upon himself the necessity of committing 
 so great a fault: — i^ ot^x^<; y*f i Sn c-WH-ocaiaf 
 TOiSTJi?. [sc. /AvStff], cap, xxiv. 
 
 NOTE S. 
 
 151 
 
 NOTE 113. 
 
 P- H4-5- Of uxuniform manners, in 
 
 THE IpHIGENIA AT AuLIS, &C. 
 
 How does this appear, independently of the 
 name of this great critic ? Iphigeiiia is drawn 
 indeed at first, fearful and suppliant: and 
 surely with tlie greatest obseivance of nature. 
 The Recount of her destination to the altar was 
 sudden, and without the least preparation : and, 
 as Lucretius well observes, in commenting her 
 case, nubendi tempore in ipso; when 
 her thoughts were all employed, and, accordin<» 
 to the sim{)licity of those times, confessed to 
 be so, on her promised nuptials. The cause 
 of such destination too, as appeared at first, 
 was the private family interest of Menelaus. 
 All this justifies, or rather demands, the 
 strongest ex[)re3sion of female fear and weak- 
 ness. But she afterwards recants and volun- 
 tarily devotes herself to the altar, And this, 
 with the same strict attention to probability. 
 She had now informed herself of the impor- 
 tance of the case. Her devotement was the 
 demand of Apollo, and the joint [>etiti(>n of all 
 Greece. The glory of her country, the dignity 
 and interest of her family, the lite of the gene- 
 nerous Achilles, and her own future fame, were, 
 all, nearly concerned in it. All this considered, 
 
 44 
 
 a 
 
 (( 
 
 (C 
 
 c< 
 
 «( 
 
 « 
 
 it 
 
 n 
 
 it 
 
 (( 
 
 a 
 
 ti 
 
 a 
 
 u 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 ti 
 
 t( 
 
 tt 
 
 ti 
 
 ti 
 
 L4 
 
 ** together 
 
152 NOTES. 
 
 " together Mith the high, heroic sentiments of 
 ** those times, and the superior merit, ^s was be- 
 " lieved, of voluntary devotement, Ipliigenia's 
 " character must have been very unfit for the 
 " distress of a whole Tragedy to turn upon, if she 
 " had not, in the end, discovered the readiest sub- 
 " mission to her appointment. But, to shew 
 ** with what wonderful propriety the Poet knew 
 " to sustain his characters, we find her, after all, 
 " and notwithstanding the heroism of the change, 
 ** in a strong and passionate apostrophe to her 
 " native Mycenae, confessing some involuntary 
 ** apprehensions and regrets, the remains of that 
 " instinctive abhorrence of death, which had 
 " before so strongly -possessed her. 
 
 Once the bright star of Greece 
 
 But I submit to die. 
 
 " Tliis, I take to be not only a full vindication of 
 " the consistency of Ipbigenia's character, but as 
 " delicate a stroke' of nature as is, p(;rha[js, to be 
 " found in any writer." \Commcnlcrij on the Ep, 
 to the Pisoi, &c. vol. i. p. 1 1 3, &c.] 
 
 If all 1 knew of tlie Tragedy in question was 
 from this ingenious defence, I should certainly 
 acquit Euripides. I cannot acquit him, or can 
 only partially acquit hiui, when I read the Tragedy 
 itself. The fact perhaps is, that the question, 
 
 whetlier 
 
 NOTES. ,5^ 
 
 whether the critic's censure be just or not, cannot 
 possibly be decided by any general statement of 
 the case. That Iphigenia, so circumstanced as 
 she is here, and very justly, described to be, m'rht 
 at first be timid and suppliant, and, at last, m'eet 
 death With resolution, and this, without any incon- 
 sistence, or duplicity of character, will hardly be 
 disputed. But tiie question is, whether Euripides 
 has actually so drawn this timidity, and this reso- 
 lution, as to preserve the unity of character. To 
 determine this fairly, we must, at last, have re- 
 course to the detail of the Poet's execution, and 
 the actual impression which, on the whole, it leaves 
 upon the readers mind. All depends here upon 
 degree and vmnner. A single nuance in the co- 
 louring, a slight depression or'elevarion of tone 
 in the suppliant, or the heroine, may be sufficient 
 to determine the impression this way, or that. 
 What this impression was upon,Aristotle's mind' 
 It may be observed that he has marked very pre- 
 cisely and clearly by the expression, 'OTAEN 
 BOIKEN -H 'iKETErorXA TH. TSTEPH. :_« the 
 " supplicating Iphigenia is nothixg like the 
 ' Iphigenia of the conclusion:' The expression 
 I think, does not imply, that he thought the mere 
 circumstance of her supplicating at first for life 
 and recanting afterwards, was, of itself, necessa- 
 rily inconsistent, but, that the ntanner in which 
 she supplicated was such, as to make her, in that 
 part, appear to be a different character, another 
 
 person, 
 
 >» 
 
 n, 
 
JI4 MOTES. 
 
 pei^soTiy from what she appears to be when sh^ 
 recants. 
 
 My own opinion I confess io be, that though 
 the considerations suggested in this ingenious de- 
 fence of Euripides may prove the censure of 
 Aristotle to be too strongly, or, at least, too gejie^ 
 rally y expressed, yet they do not prove it to be 
 without foundation. I say, too getKrallij^ because 
 perhaps there is but one passage in the speech of 
 the suppliant Ipliigenia, to which tte OTAEM 
 •o»x£K is fairly applicable, in Its full force. Hef 
 $peech, Ei fAiif toy 0^(pt(ag, Sec. V. 1211, which, oil 
 the whole, is highly pathetic, ends with these un-* 
 happy lines : 
 
 - • - - fiottvtroct S* 01; evx^Tai 
 
 eumv KAKnZ ZHN KPEIIION H GA- 
 NEIN KAAXIS*. t;. 1249.— 
 
 I leave it to the reader to determine, whether a?2i/ 
 intervening circilTi.^tances, that can be imagined, 
 will make it at all conceivable, that the sa7ne Iphi- 
 genia, should, hi the short space of thne taken up 
 by the recital of, at most, only 35 lines of dialogue **, 
 
 experience 
 
 * This is softened in Mr. Potter's version : 
 
 - - - - - " of his senses is he reft, 
 '* Who hath a wish to die ; for life, though ill, 
 '* Excels whate'cr tlierc is of good in death. *** 
 
 V. 1365. 
 ^ The reader of Euripides will ohserve, that Iphigenia 
 continues the same strain of consternation and lamentation 
 after the speech of her father in reply to her supplication; 
 
 NOTES. ,^5 
 
 experience such a total change of sentiments, as 
 to express the most lieroic resolution, and the ut- 
 most sensibility to the glory of dying for her 
 country ; as to say, — 
 
 It seems probable, that AristoUe had chiefly iti 
 view the particular lines I have quoted ; and had 
 he any way pointed his censure to that passage- 
 hid he said, «Vi. f.,x£. i 'Orrni ;xfrii;«er«,^&c. 
 
 quoting, or referring to, the verses, I think ther^ 
 could have been no objection to the justice of his 
 criticism. 
 
 Gravina, who has also defended Euripides in 
 his book Delia Tragedia, lays gn^at strcss upon a 
 circumstance, which does, indeed, seem to be of 
 considerable moment in the Poet's justification ; 
 I mean, the effect of necessity in producing courage 
 
 ^ and 
 
 (V. 125s, &c.) and even at v. 1317, she says she dies, 
 mptously murdered by an impious father ;" 
 
 Avoa-iu war^^. 
 From the end of this monostrophic lamentation to her 
 heroic speech v. 1638, there are, I think, b ut 35 lines. 
 
 u ci" " ". ■ " ^'''* ^'^^""^ ^ B^ive my life. 
 ^^ May me, demolish Troy : for these shall be 
 
 2 ^"""^ ^"^^ '"^ monuments, my children these, 
 ' My nuptials^ and my glory." 
 
 Potter's EurJp. v. 1549. 
 
J54 MOTES. 
 
 person^ from what she appears to be when sh^ 
 recants. 
 
 My own opinion I confess io be, that though 
 the considerations suggested in this iniz^nious de- 
 fence of Euripides may prove the censure of 
 Aristotle to be too strongly, or, at least, too gtnt^ 
 rally, expressed, yet they do not prov^ it to be 
 without foundation. I say, too gemralli/, because 
 perhaps there is but one passage ill tlie speech of 
 the suppliant I[)higenia, to which the OTAEJt 
 iotx£¥ is fairly applicable, in its full force. Her 
 speech, Ei fAtp rov O^f f«?, &c. v. 1 2 n , which, on 
 the whole, is highly pathetic, ends with these un- 
 happy lines: 
 
 euvBiV KAKaZ ZHN KFEIILON H GA- 
 NEIN KAAIIS*. v. 1249— 
 
 I' leave it to the reader to determine, whether a?7i/ 
 interrening circUfr.^tances, that can be imagined, 
 will make it at all conceivable, that the sa7ne Iphi- 
 genia, should, /W/^e shori space of time taken up 
 by the recital of, at most, only 35 lines of dialogue^ 
 
 experience 
 
 • This is softeneJ in Mr. Potter's version : 
 
 - - - - - " of his senses is he reft, 
 " Who hath a wish to die ; for life, though ill, 
 '* Excels whatever die re is of good in death. 
 
 V. 1365. 
 *» The reader of Euripides will observe, that Iphigenia 
 continues the same strain of consternation and lamentation 
 after the speech of her father in reply to her supplication; 
 
 NOTES. ,^j 
 
 experience such a total change of sentiments, as 
 to expicss the most lieroic resolution, and the ut- 
 most sensibility to the glory of dying for her 
 country ; as to say, — 
 
 It seems probable, that Aristotle had chiefly itt 
 view the particular lines I have quoted ; and had 
 he any way pointed his censure to that passage- 
 had be said, ii,y „.«. ,' -OrTXlX' .•x.r.u«T«,°&c. 
 quoting, or referring to, the verses, I think ther6 
 could have been no objection to the justice of his 
 criticism. 
 
 Gravina, who has also defended Euripides in 
 h.s book Ddk Tragedia, lays great stress upon a 
 circumstance, which does, indeed, seem to be of 
 considerable moment in the Poet's justification ; 
 I mean, the eflTect of necessity in producing courage 
 
 __^ —__._____ *^"d 
 
 (V. 1255 &c.) and even at v. 131 7, she says she dies, 
 mptously murdertdby an Impious father :" 
 
 From the end of this monostrophic lamenution to her 
 heroic speech v. 1638, there are, I think, b ut 35 lines. 
 
 .. *ci' " ". ■ " ^""^ ^"^^^ ^ g'^« "ly •'*■<>. 
 
 ^ Slay me, demolish Troy : for these shall be 
 
 2 »r^ ''™* ""^ monuments, my children thejc. 
 My nuptials, and my glory." 
 
 Potter's Eurip. v. 1545. 
 
156 NOTES. 
 
 and resolution. *' Non 6 maraviglia, se Ifigenia, 
 " quantunque per naturalezza del scsso, tiinida, 
 '^ ed amorosa della vita, sinchh la pcteva spcrare ; 
 " poi 7'esa forte dalla necesaitd, madre spesso 
 " anche delle virtu niorali, come anima gene- 
 " rosamente educata, disprczza la morte, e cangia 
 '* I'amor della vita in compiacenza di gleria. II 
 " che alia giornata anche osserviamo in persone 
 *' di nascita e d'animo vile, che condotte alia 
 " morte, arditamente Tabbracciano, quantunque 
 " al primo avviso costernate rimanessero ; perchh 
 " ridea ddla necessltct non acta mata ancor la 
 *' stia forza.'' {Sect. 19.] 
 
 This seems much to the purpose ; and it is sup- 
 ported by its agreement with uhat we find in the 
 Tragedy itself. For the change in the sentiments 
 and language of Iphigenia is not, as we have seen, 
 produced before the scene in Trochaics between 
 Clytaemnestra and Achilles; the very scene in 
 which the inevitable necessity of the sacrifice is 
 first made clearly apparent. The effect of this 
 on the resolution of Iphigenia is visible also in 
 her speech : 
 
 - - - TOL I* AATNA0' ritnv yccc^Ts^nv i cocctov, 
 
 AXXa Tioci ere tv9' o^otv p/^17, fJLV} SiccfiXriQr,^ Tf ^ro;, 
 KM nAEON nPAHUMEN OTAEN. - - - 
 
 AXX AMHXANON- 
 EXXocSi, &c. 
 
 V. 1372. 
 The 
 
 NOTES. i^y 
 
 The learned Mr. Marldand, in his excellent 
 edition of the two Ipkigemas, defends Euripides 
 upon very different ground. He admits the in- 
 consistence, not only in the character of Iphigenia, 
 ' but in all the characters of the play, except Cly- 
 taemnestra ^ and even in the chorus. But all tl)is 
 he supposes to have been intended by the Poet, 
 as a moral lesson— a striking picture of the " levity 
 " and inconstancy of the human mind:' And he 
 wonders, which I cannot say I do, that tliis should 
 have escaped the dy^mi% of Aristotle \ 
 
 NOTE 114. 
 
 P- 145-6. Hexce it is evident that the 
 
 DEVELOPMENT ALSO, &C. - - - 
 
 Heinsius pronounces this whole passage, to the 
 words, ty rta Oil ra Zo^.— inclusively, to be cer- 
 tainly out of its proper place \ And I should be 
 of his opinion, if such digressive and parenthetical 
 insertions were not very usual with Aristotle. * The 
 expression, however, should be observed \—(pM(^oy 
 iy 0T« KAI roLi Au(ra?, &c. that " the develop- 
 ment also" 8cc. i.e. as well as the other incidents 
 of the fable, just mentioned. Most of the versions 
 neglect tlie word xa*, which is important, and 
 greatly helps tlie connection. This digression, 
 however, though not unrelated, is but slightly and 
 obliquely related, to his present subject ; and seems 
 _ introduced 
 
 ** P. 190. Note on v. 1375. 
 • De, Trag, cap. xii. 
 
lit MOTES. 
 
 introduced rather «Vo /Atjp^ayrif, and in violation of 
 
 his QiWX\ rule — raro lAtroe, tsto i! ci¥etyx»iou n' flx^. 
 
 It interrupts the connection, and obscures the 
 purport, of the chapter; and though we allow it 
 to be where the author placed it, we may fairly 
 question, whether he has placed it where it 
 should be. 
 
 NOTE 115. 
 
 P. 146. Machinery. 
 
 Aw9 fAf»;^«Hic.— It appears from Jul. Poll, lib.iv. 
 cap. 19. tliat the term, /aux*''^* was not applied in- 
 discriminately to the machinery of the play-house 
 •in general, but was appropriated to that particular 
 machine, in which Gods and Heroes made their 
 appearance in tlie air. Mu;^ayti tt, hit; ^lix^uci xat 
 fi^waf rug iv al^i. — I hope it was something better 
 than the Mnp^ayu of the French opera, so pleasantly 
 described by Rousseau : — 
 
 " Les chars des Dieux et des Dresses sont 
 composes de quatre solives encadr^es et sus- 
 pendues k une grosse corde en forme d escarpo- 
 lette; entre ces solives est une planche en 
 travers, sur laquelle le J)ieu s'asseye, et sur le 
 devant pend un morceau de grosse toile bar- 
 bouillee, qui sert de nuage cl ce magnifique char. 
 On voit vers le bas de la machine Tillumination 
 de deux ou trois chandelles puantes et ra^ 
 " mouch^es, qui, tandis que le personnage se 
 " d^mene et crie en branlant dans son escar- 
 4 '* polette, 
 
 €( 
 
 tc 
 
 u 
 
 €t 
 
 U 
 
 a 
 
 (( 
 
 <( 
 
 <c 
 
 a 
 
 N O T E & ,5, 
 
 polette, Tenfumcnt tout k son aise. Encen§ 
 
 digne de la divinity *." 
 
 The account of tlie macliinery of a Greek 
 Theatre, in the chapter of Jul. Pollux above re. 
 ferret! to, i3 curious, and amusing, as far as it is 
 intelligible. 
 
 NOTE 116. 
 
 P. 146. Or tjie returx of the Greeks 
 IN the Iliad. 
 
 Ka< sV THi lAIAAr rx m^i rov inoirXuy, It has 
 
 been disputed, whether Aristotle here speaks of 
 tlie Iliad of Homer, or of some Tragedy called 
 The Iliad, See Dacicr^$ note.— But, if we suppose 
 the text to be right here, I see not how we can 
 reasonably reject the first of these interpretations. 
 *H IAIA2, as Beni has well observed, can only be, 
 the Iliad,— i. e. Homers Iliad. Dacier supposes 
 the Tragedy to have been called, '' The Iliad, or, 
 " The return of the Greeks f and to be that 
 mentioned by Longinus, Sect. 15, and attributed 
 to Sophocles. But, even supposing a Tragedy to 
 be meant, it seems very clear from Aristotle s 
 expression, that the title ujust have been, 'H lA.a^, 
 only; for he say^, EN tj, Ix^cl^, ta HEPI tov 
 u-TQTrXm —i. e. *' the circumstances, or incidents, 
 relative to the return of the Greelcs, in [the 
 Tragedy of J The Iliad: — So, cap. xxiv.— i, t» 
 Otv^(ru^—rx iri^» rm, ix9f(riy.— Indeed, The Ilial 
 
 ^^^__^__^___ _____^„ taken 
 
 • NouveJlc EJoise, Partll. La.xxiil 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 

 rBo NOTES. 
 
 taken alone, seems an improbable title for a Tra- 
 gedy ; but Dacier's junction is still more impro- 
 bable. He might as well have imagined a Tragedy 
 with this title-~HO^u<nrna, 'H, 'H EK0E2I5:.— As to 
 
 the Tragedy of Sophocles mentioned by Longinus, 
 it seems clearly to have been his Polyxena *. 
 
 Supposing, then, the text not to be defective, 
 we cannot, I think, avoid understanding Aristotle 
 to speak of the machinery, (to use the word in his 
 general sense,) in the second book of the Iliad, 
 where Minerva descends to prevent the return of 
 the Greeks ^ It is true indeed, as has been 
 objected, that an instance drawn from an Epic 
 Poem is not what one would expect here, where 
 the subject is Tragedy ; and, that though there be, 
 in this instance, a difficulty solved— a knot cut— 
 yet this xvo-k, is not, properly, Xutrtc /xuOs, in that 
 sense, in which Aristotle applies the term in 
 cap. xviii \ to the final denouement of a Tragic 
 fable.— We must therefore suppose him to have 
 produced this, merely as an obvious and well 
 known example of the sort of supernatural inter- 
 position, or machinery, that would be improper in 
 the XucTJc of a Tragedy. For, that he intended to 
 censure the " ministeria Deorum,'' so necessary to 
 the Epic Poem, and so frequent in the great model 
 of all Epic Poems, cannot be imagined u ithout 
 absurdity, and is by no means necessarily implied, 
 as Dacier seems to think, in this interpretation. 
 
 Such 
 
 » See the note of Ruhnkenius in Toup's Longinus. 
 ^ II. B. 155, &c. ;= Transl. Part. II. Sect. 18. 
 
 NOTES. i6t 
 
 Such appears to me to be, the only meaning, 
 and the best apology, which the passage will bear, 
 taking for granted the integrity of the original. 
 But of this, I confess, I doubt. M. Batteux 
 translates—** la petite Iliade." But if we admit 
 that sense, as Aristotle certainly would not have 
 called that Poem the Iliad, without distinction, 
 we must necessarily suppose the text defective, and 
 tlie word MIKPA* to be omitted ^ ; and it seems 
 very probable that this was the case. The illus- 
 tration, indeed, will still be drawn from an Epic. 
 Poem ; but from one of an irregular and historic 
 structure, consisting of a string of ill-united 
 stories ',* and'which seems to have been considered 
 as a sort of seed-plot, or nursery, of subjects for 
 the use of the Tragic Poets : so that in referring 
 to it, Aristotle may be understood to refer to such 
 Tragedies as were founded on it; of which he 
 enumerates himself no fewer than eight, and one 
 of these was called AnonAOTZ ; taken, I suppose, 
 like the Poly. vena of Sophocles mentioned by 
 Longinus, from that part of the Little Iliad, which 
 related the detention of the Greeks in the Thracian 
 Chersonese, and the appearance of the ghost of 
 Achilles demanding the sacrifice of Polyxena. See 
 the Hecuba of Euripides, v. 35, &c. and 104, &c. — 
 [" and 
 
 ^ — Tuv MIKPAN iTuoJa— and, U mg MIKPAS Imo^^. 
 cap. xxiii. 
 
 * Sec Aristotle's account of it, cap. xxiii, Tran«I. 
 Part in. Sect.!. 
 
 VOL. lU U 
 
,62 NOTES. 
 
 and the fine description of the sacrifice, v. 5i9,&c. 
 
 — In Mr. Potters translation, v. 36 — 102 — 501. 
 
 NOTi=: 117. 
 
 P. 147. Or or INDOLENT . 
 
 fuivfji^ :— indolent — nonchalant. Ilesychius 
 explains PaSv^©*,— 'O MH nONHTIKOl «'XX^ 
 EKATT02, It is improperly rendered, " timide,'' 
 by M. Batteux, and " mansueto " by the Italian 
 translators. 
 
 NOTE 118. 
 
 p. 147. Should draw an example ap- 
 proaching RATHER TO A GOOD, THAN TO A 
 HARD AND FEROCIOUS, CHARACTER. 
 
 The original is — *Our« x«i tov iromrtiv, ^t^H^iv^i^ 
 
 tin T«y i!9wv, firutxita? ttoiiiv wa(»fuyfA» n vnXnfo- 
 
 A passage that has much perplexed and divided 
 the commentators. Of all the explanations which 
 this perplexity has produced, that of Dacier is 
 the most improbable and ill founded. He forces 
 /«9u|i»^ into the sense of, emportS, furieux, and 
 makes it ** encherir sur «fyix<>»." Eir#«4xi*(», he 
 
 • 
 
 wrenches from the obvious and proper sense m 
 which it is continually used by Aristotle, into that 
 o{ probability. And the result of this violent 
 operation upon the passage, b the following strange 
 K version : 
 
 it 
 
 €i 
 
 NOTES. 163 
 
 version : — " II faut tout de m^me, qu un Poete 
 qui veut imiter un homme colere et emporte^ ou 
 *' quelqu' autre caractere serablable, se remette 
 bien plus devant les yeux ce que la colere doit 
 /aire vraiseinblabtement (i. e. Iwrnxtia^) que ce 
 " quelle a J ait (i.e. i <rxA»jfOT>iT(^!) et cest 
 " aiiisi," &c. I may venture to leave all this to 
 ,the learned reader's rejection, without any fartlier ' 
 comment. I shall only just observe, that the ex- 
 pression, KAI i^y. KAI /^9. evidently marks dif- 
 ferent characters ; not, as Dacier makes it, different 
 degrees only of the same character. 
 
 Heinsius first suggested, that the phrase ^Tng*. 
 xiioct; n <rxA»)f 0T»iT(5^, was elliptical, and (aocXKqv to be 
 .understood. But in spite of the ''Attica venu^tas;' 
 I am much more inclined to suspect an omission 
 of the word. Aristotle would hardly have used a 
 mode of expression so unavoidably ambiguous — 
 or rather, that would, almost unavoidably, lead to 
 a wrong sense ; for, the fact is, that all the com- 
 mentators, before Heinsius, understood the i as 
 indeed every reader, I believe, would at first na- 
 turally understand it, in the disjunctive sense 
 of, or. Besides this, I doubt whether any example 
 of this elliptic phrase occurs in Aristotle's works. 
 That it may, I will not take upon me to deny ; 
 but it seems, at least, very unusual. An instance 
 of it I have not found ; but the reader may find 
 many instances of the full phrase, /x«aaoi^ jJ, even iu 
 
 M 2 this 
 
^ 
 
 \ 
 
 164 NOTES. 
 
 tliis treatise \ However, one, or the otlier, of 
 these suppositions, it seems necessary to adopt. 
 The passage will then, without forcing the words 
 iTTinxiix and (rxXH^oTUf from their usual and proper 
 signification, aflTord a clear and consistent meaning. 
 EirniKi^cc is used, I think, here, as it is in cap. xiii. 
 in the general sense of good ^, ZKXufoTHf plainly 
 relates only to his first instance, of the o^y^xQ*, the 
 angry character, of which it seems to express the 
 extreme degree. In the Ethics ad Nicom. we 
 V have— AFPIOI xa* 2KAHPOI, as synonymous, or 
 very nearly so *. A passage of Plato may serve 
 to illustrate and confirm this sense of the word. 
 Speaking of the 9v/xo£»^k, or irascible nature, he 
 says, it may produce the dy^icv:—K(Ki o^Owc ^£it 
 
 r^a^iv, iy^i^^oy i» lU' MAAAON A' EniTAQEK 
 TOT AE0NT02, 2KAHPOTEPON ti x«i x«^ixaf 
 yiyvoix «\, ii to iJx®*.— And just before— ATPIO- 
 THTOS Tf x«i SKAHPOTHTOS, x<xi »i /A«Xax»«? rt 
 
 The 
 
 * » Cap. i. ^<ri0^oyoif MAAAON H srwrmjv. — cap. ix. 
 MAAAON Tojv A«^tfv . - - H T«v ftrrf «». — cap. xxiv. 
 'K^om^ti^^au T£ oJi/mra nm ilwm, MAAAON H li^a^a koi 
 
 »> So, in the Rht, lib. i. cap. 5. i^Jnam is plainly used as 
 synonymous with x^^^- ^^^^ defining Uic word x(W- 
 ^i.Ma, he sayg— ^ Ji »« EHIEIKEIS avJff?, [sc f*^o« iiVi] 
 XPH2T04>1A0I. 
 
 <= Lib. iv. cap. 8. ed. ff'ilk, 
 
 ^ De Rcpub. lib. iii. td. Mass, p. 228. 
 
 NOTES. 165 
 
 Tlie sense of the passage, then, will be, that, in 
 order to reconcile the/r.y^'precept, of the xf'Jrov, 
 with the thirdy of the iiAoioy^ the character should 
 be brought as near to a good one, as is consistent 
 with the circumstance of likeness. Thus, if such 
 a character as that of Achilles is to be drawn, its 
 striking features are to be preserved, but, at the 
 same time, to be rather improved and softened, 
 tlian exaggerated. For the expression must be 
 observed. Aristotle does not say absolutely, ac- 
 cording to the sense of Heinsius, that Achilles 
 mgkt to be drawn, or was drawn, wagoLhiyfAx 
 iyrrnxuxg, but rather so than otherwise; — MAA- 
 AON It o-x^u^otutJ^. — " Loin de charger encore 
 " le defaut, il le rappochera de la vertUy' as 
 M. Batteux has very well expressed the spirit of 
 the rule, though he has generalized it, and made 
 it refer to all that precedes — xa* o^yiXu^, xxi 
 fatvfAisg, &c. — whereas it appears plainly, from what 
 has been said of the force of o-xXu^otuc, that the 
 words, iTTkHXiixg iromy irx^xi. i o-xXrf . Can be applied 
 only to the oj yiAo* ; for as to the pa9u/x©», such a 
 character may, indeed, be flattered into the fVi- 
 xiix»)f, but cannot well, by any distortion, be made 
 to appear o-xAtj^©^. 
 
 Still, however, what every one, I believe, na- 
 turally expects at the first reading of this passage, 
 as it now stands, is, that after having mentioned 
 two instances oi faulty characters, the cj y»Aoi, and 
 the fQi,hii.o^, Aristotle should mention two corres- 
 
 M 3 pondin; 
 
 ^S 
 
i66 NOTES. 
 
 ponding instances oi good qualities bordering upon, 
 or connected with, each, and of which the Poet 
 might avail himself, to give to each a favourable 
 turn. Bat, instead of this, we havQ. a good, and a 
 bad quality, {ifrmxixa,^ and cxXtj^pTTif,) both of 
 which, as we have seen, can be made to relate ortly 
 to Yd%Jirst instance, the ©^yix®* ; so tliat all the 
 rest, between the words o^yiXa?, and ETriftxufltc, must 
 be parenthetical. The harshness and embarrass- . 
 ment of such a construction, led me formerlv to 
 suspect an error in one of the words, i7n£txf»a?, or 
 cy-M^ornr^ ; and a conjecture was suggested to me 
 by a passage in the Rhetoric^ which, I hope, will 
 at least be thought plausible enough to excuse my 
 laying it before the reader. The suspicion seemed 
 to' fail upon (TxAtjfOTTjT©'; for the £7r*itx£ia would 
 ahswer well enough as a softening, or improve- 
 ment, of /laJu/Ata ; as an indolent man, who concerns 
 himself about nothing, and cares only for his ow^ 
 ease, is often spoken of as a quicly good kind of 
 man. Instead of crxX^ifoTJir^, then, I thought it 
 not improbable, that Aristotle nnight have written 
 a7rXoT?iT©^. The passage of Aristotle himself 
 which suggested this to me, is in the first book of 
 his Rhetoric^ cap, ix. where, delivering the usual 
 precepts relative to tiie art of encomiastic mis- 
 representation, he says, — Atj^teov h U^xs-ov, 
 
 fx Twv TraflaxdAaSskTWk Aft, xara ro BEATI^TON' 
 otov, TON 'OPriAON xxt rov fxotvixoy, 'AnAOTN • 
 xfl» Tov «u9fltJti, /uiyaAoTTjfTTj xoci fe[JLyoy * x. t. «AA. 
 
 The 
 
 NOTES. 167 
 
 The whole passage is much to the purpose of this 
 place ; and is, plainly, not more applicable to the 
 Rhetorician, with respect to the hero of his oration, 
 than it is to the Poet, with respect to the hero of 
 his poem, A passage of Euripides wij^l add, per- 
 haps, some probability to this conjecture. In the 
 Iphigeuia at Aulis, Achilles thus draws his own 
 character : 
 
 Xu^uv^, IfMtAov Tug r^oTTifg 'AIIAOTS 8%6iy; 
 K»i TOtg Atj 6<da/f, 1JV [Jtiv iiymroti KocXeag, 
 Uei<roiJLe6\ otccv ie fznj KuXea^y i iTei(roue6\ 
 
 V. 926. 
 Where the meaning of t^owh^ iirXH^^ is very well 
 fixed by the two subsequent lines, and by the ex- 
 pression, lAivSi^otk ^vfTiVy in the verse that follows 
 them. 
 
 Plato, also, in the HippiaSj talks much of the 
 simplicity, truth, and sincerity, of Achilles ; as if, 
 in his view, they were the prominent features of 
 what was good in the Homeric character of that 
 hero. When Socrates asks Hippias, whether 
 Achilles is not represented by Homer as an artful, 
 designing character, Hippias answers— Hx«ra yi, 
 <J I«xf fltTfff, «AA' 'AnAOTXTATOS. And, again, a5^ 
 p fAi¥ A;^iAXiu^ un akn^n^ n nai *AnAOT2 ' ft O^vtr- 
 «-iu? woXuTfOTT^ n x«i ij/ju<r»?j*. And the following 
 lines are there quoted, in which Homer has made 
 
 Achilles 
 
 I Tom. i. p. 364, td, Serr. 
 M 4 
 
i68 NOTES. 
 
 Achilles strongly mark this feature of his own 
 character : 
 
 Kovf uev Sfj Tov fjLU^ov GCTryjXeyicjg otTrotiTTUV, 
 
 Hi 'TTSO 07} (ppOVBU) Ti, KOCl Uq TBrBKt(rfJLiJ>OV Bg'Ut' 
 
 EvS^®- yuD fjLoi xsiy©- ojjiug oticoco 'rrvXricrtv^ 
 
 *0^ X ^TBovv [Jtev kbvSbi Ivi ^^B(riv, dxXo ob (oocI^bi. 
 
 IL ix. 308. 
 
 The sense» then, of the passage before us, ac- 
 cordii^ to this conjecture, would be this : — If the 
 Poet chuse for the subject of his imitation a pas- 
 sionaie, or an indoknt man, he should give to the 
 former the cast of plain sincerity, and honest 
 frankness ; and to the other, (the p»6u/x^) that of 
 moderation, gentleness \ good-nature, and what the 
 Prench, byian expressive word which our language 
 
 wants, term, bvnhommie. But I dwell too long 
 
 upon a mere conjecture. The evident propriety 
 of the word fi-jtXn^oTn;, as applicable to the un- 
 softened and unflaliend character of Achilles, may 
 justly, perhaps, protect it from suspicion ; though, 
 on the other hand, the passages I have adduced, 
 added to tlie improbability of the dlipse supposed 
 by Heinsius, the embarrassment of the parenthesis, 
 ^ and the advantage of leaving the iJ to its most 
 obvious, disjiinctke, sense, preveiU me from a total 
 rejection of tiiis idea. 
 
 The word tr^^ojuyixxy here, is taken by most of 
 the commentator^ ta mean a perfect ideal model * — 
 
 " suwmum 
 
 « Roboridli, Victorius, Piccol. Bcni, Goulston. 
 
 ^ 
 
 NOTES. 169 
 
 " summum exemplar." For this I see no reason, 
 I take it to be used here, as it is generally, I be- 
 lieve, if not always, used by Aristotle, merely for 
 an exainple. Of this the reader may easily sa- 
 tisfy himself by consulting the useful index to 
 Mr. Winstanley's edition. 
 
 NOTE 119. 
 
 P. 147. As Achilles is drawn, bt 
 Agatho, and by Homer. 
 
 Plato, in the third book of his Republicy 
 gives a verj' different view of the Homeric Achilles. 
 He makes him a mere compound of extreme 
 pride and extreme meanness: wn Ix^iv h «utw 
 
 votrriiAAra J'uo lyAvriu aXAiiXoiv, diftXivhpiuv fAtrx 
 ^iXox^yilAxnx^, xat au vm^i\poLviocv 9i«v ti x«( ai/9o«- 
 
 TTwi/*. To which we may add, as a companion, 
 Dr. Jortin's portrait of Achilles : " A boisterous^ 
 " i^apaciouSy mercenary^ cruel, and uiirelenting 
 brute ; and the reader pities none of his cala- 
 mities, and is pleased with none of his suc- 
 ^ cesses ** ! " This is far enough from the iraf a- 
 iuyfjLoc iwmxiieti. But for a juster account of this 
 matter, and for the best illustration of this pas- 
 sage of Aristotle that can be given, I refer the 
 
 reader 
 
 * " So that he united in hi-nself two vices the most 
 ** opposite to each other; avaricious meanness on the 
 " one hand, and, on the other, an insolent contempt both 
 '^ of Gods and men." — P. 1 74. ed. Massey, 
 
 J Six Dissertations, p. 214, 
 
 It 
 
 ic 
 
170 NOTES, 
 
 reader to Dr. Beattie's analysis of the character 
 ot' this hero, as dmwn by Homer; Essay on 
 Poetry, &c. Part I. ch. iv. 
 
 NOTE 120. 
 
 P. 147. And beside these, whateveb 
 
 RELATES TO THOSE SENSES WHICH HAVE A 
 NECESSARY CONNECTION WITH PoETRY. 
 
 Here are two readings : t«? wxocc rx if avayxuc 
 
 AxoAsOao-ac a*V8>i(rfK ry 7ro*?iT*xtj : and, ra, wx^a t«c 
 
 fg ai»Ayx»if, Sec but in both, the object, and general 
 sense of the passage, seem to be the same, though 
 in both, the expression, it must be confessed, is 
 sufficiently embarrassed and obscure. I have 
 preferred the latter, (which is that of Victorius,)' 
 as being, on the whole, the clearest *. 
 
 The semes that belong to, accompany, or are 
 connected xvith^ Poetry, are, plainly, the sights 
 and the hearings as relative to tiie 0\I/»c, or spec- 
 tack, in the whole extent of that term, and to the 
 MiXo^ou* or Music. When these are said to be 
 
 Ig aweyxJi? axoXH^Htrxi t»t iroiDTtxij, it cannot be ' 
 
 meant that the parts relative to them are essential 
 to the Tragic Poem, like the fable, manners, &c. 
 but only, that they are necessary appendages of 
 the drama in its complete state, as designed for 
 
 representation. 
 
 * in the treatise Utfi euaOiyreu;, the same expression 
 occurs:— »j f^tv apn um yt^ii AKOAOT0EI watrn E3 
 ANATKHS. *' Tactus et gustus animalia omnia neassano 
 comltantur.'^ Tom^ i. /, 663. (d. Duval. 
 
 NOTES. 171 
 
 representation. This is perfectly conformable to 
 what was before said of the Oi}/k ; that, though 
 confessedly, in one view, iixir« oixno^ mc iroii»- 
 Tixn? • *, yet, in another view, EH ANAFKHS xy lU 
 
 The drift of the precept is obvious. The deco- 
 7ation should be such as to agree with the rules 
 just laid down for the manners. The scenery, 
 dresses, action, &c. must be x^fd.orToyr», ofAoia — 
 probability, nature, and the costume, must be ob- 
 served. Even the {Ai^zciq fiiXnovw, the improved 
 imitation, has here, too, its obvious application. 
 The squalid hair, and ragged dress, of Electra ', . 
 must, as well as the <rxA?i^#Tiif of Achilles, be a 
 little flattered in the representation, and not to(^ 
 like, &c. 
 
 The rule extends, also, to the Melapa'm, or the 
 Music ; which, from otker passages of Aristotle's 
 works, we may suspect to have been sometimes 
 such, as sacriticed propriety, and just expression 
 — tlie 11811, the 9rf£7rov, &c. to the depraved taste of 
 what he calls the fofT*xo» spectators*. 
 _It 
 
 * Cap. vi. — " is most foreign to die art." — TransL 
 Part II. Sect. 3. 
 
 » Ibid, init, *' The DECORATION must necessarily be 
 '< one of its parts," Part II. Sect. 2. 
 ' XwJ^ fjui niNAPAN KOMAN, 
 YUa TPTXH TAA* i^ ttb^^v^ 
 
 Eur ip, Electra, i^^, 
 ^ See, De Repub,X\h,v\n, cap. 6, and 7, p. 457, £• 
 459, A. ed. Duval. The contests {ayuvtf), indeed, of 
 
 which 
 
 
 « 
 
I 
 
 IJ2 NOTES. 
 
 It is probable that Aristotle alludes, also, to 
 cap. xvii. and to the mistakes, which the Poet is 
 liable to commit, who composes without keeping 
 the stage, and the effects of representation, in his 
 
 eye". 
 
 Though the Poet neither painted the scenes, 
 nor made the dresses, yet all this formed one of 
 the six constituent parts of Tragedy ; fell, of 
 course, under the direction , and controul of the 
 Poet, and was of the utmost importance to the 
 success of his piece, at a time when represent^* 
 tion was almost essential to the idea of dramatic 
 poetry *. 
 
 NOTE 121. 
 
 P. 148. All those DiscevEEiEs in which 
 
 THE SIGN IS PRODUCED BY WAY OF PROOF. 
 
 'A* ir»ri«iK i^ji*. Well explained by Dacier after 
 the Italian commentators. Indeed, the very words 
 of Homer, in the passage alluded to, sufficiently 
 illustrate the meaning of the expression. 
 
 which he speaks in these p&sages, seem to have been 
 merely musicaL But the known inHuence of the same 
 popular audience in the drannatic contests, and the caution 
 given by Aristotle in the passage we are considering, 
 make it probable, that even in the music of Tragedy^ 
 especially in the instrumental parr of it, something of the 
 same accommodation might prevail. 
 
 •Transl. Part II. Sect. 17. 
 
 * See vol.i. Diss. I. Partll. at the end. 
 
 NOTES. 173 
 
 £/ 6ayt OTj )coci SHMA ocoi^p^uSs; aXXo t/ Su^Uy 
 *0<p^ f^s iv yvuTov^ IIIITnGHTON r In Sujity, 
 'OYAHN &c. Od.^217. 
 
 " To give you Jirmer faith, now trust your eye : 
 •* Lo ! the broad scar indented on my thigh." 
 
 Pope, xxi. 226, 
 Other instances of sigjis thus used, not for the 
 purpose of accidental discovery, but as confirma- 
 tions of a voluntary discovery previously made, 
 may easily be found. Thus, in the Electra of 
 Sophocles, when Electra asks her brother, 'H yx^ 
 €M xnv^ : — he answers — 
 
 - - - - TrivCt 7rpo(r 12x^1^ x(r If^a 
 
 NOTE 122. 
 
 P. 148. ,Th0SE which HAPPEN SUD- 
 DENLY AND CASUALLY, ARt BETTER. 
 
 Ex irifiiTiTuati, — " Non valet hie Tn^nFiruK, mu- 
 " tationem illani ingentem fortunarum, sed, jfx 
 " 7r£f iTiT£*»f, significat, casu, fortuito, et quia ita 
 " ceciditJ* — J^ictoi^ius. 
 
 So in the passage ^rom Polybius quoted by 
 Suidas, under the words Uif tirirfia, and Eu/a£^?jf : — 
 • '''^X? ^^ irAiiov €Mn^y(A p^f w/^£^^> i^' EK IIEPI- 
 n£TEIA£, i\Ka $ia rn^ ay;^ij»c*af. x.t.A. 
 
 Aristotle s using the word thus, adverbially, 
 
 after having hitherto used it only in its technical, 
 
 tpr dramatic, sense, of a sudden change of fortune, 
 
 * produces- 
 
174 NOTES. 
 
 produces some ambiguity ; and the more so, a^ 
 the adverbial phiase, U «-if*TiT«iaf, seems not t© 
 be of very common occurrence. Heinsius, taking 
 vt^nrtruoi in the dramatic sense, translates — " quae 
 *^ e mutationibm in contrarium oriunturf which, 
 indeed, is the obvious meaning of the expression, 
 if not understood adverbially. But it cannot be 
 Aristotle's meaning, because the discovery of the 
 scar of Ulysses was not the consequence of any 
 such Tvifivitux, Indeed, it was neither the con- 
 sequence, nor the cause, of any reverse of fortune. 
 I have sometimes suspected that Aristotle might 
 write it, ix IIPOIIETEIAX, by which all ambiguity 
 would have been avoided. But, perhaps, after 
 all, the phrase had no ambiguity to Greek ears, 
 and the passage may be right as it stands. 
 
 \ 
 
 NOTE 123. 
 
 P. 149. Discoveries invented, at plea- 
 sure, BY THE Poet, and, on that account, 
 
 STILL INARTIFICIAL. 
 
 •Tfpi^vw. -'*- The expression, vnr^miMvtn iv tb 
 wonT», must necessarily, I think, be understood 
 emphaticallj/, and must mean, oot merely invented, 
 (for so are the other discoveries also, which fol- 
 low,) but arbitrarily invented by the Poet, and 
 obviotisiy so, " upon the spur of the occasion ;'* 
 in opposition to such means of discovery and 
 
 recognition. 
 
 NOTES. 17^ 
 
 recognition, as, tliough still indeed of the Poet's 
 invention, are aftfully prepared in the very texture 
 of his plot, and appear to arise, necessarily or 
 probably, from the action itself. And thus I find 
 it well explained by Piccolomini :— " Chiama 
 " Aristotele qiiesta seconda spetie di ricono&ci- 
 ^ mento, Jatto dal P<,eta: e cosi lo chiama, non 
 '' perche in tutte le spetie U Pocia non sia quello 
 " che li riconoscimenti, siccome lealtre parti dell' 
 '' attione e della favola ponga e fomii coi versi 
 *| mm ; ma ha dato d questa spetie pid di' air altre 
 " questo nome, perche in essa, non fondandosi il 
 " Poeta, n^ nello stesso connettimento delle cose, 
 " e nella stessa Ikvola, nfe in segno alcuno che la 
 " persona stessa, che s'ha da^ riconoscere, gli 
 •* oflFerisca inanzi ; egli, per questo, come libera 
 " divenuto, h suo mero (quasi) arbitrio, reca, 
 " f^ge, e pone in bocca della persona a voglia sua, 
 " quella occasione di ricomsdmento che piu gli 
 '' piace,^' ice. [p.230.]~Yet as this sense is 
 rather inferred from the explanation subjoined, 
 
 (raura zp ajr©* \iyu 'A BOTAETAI 'O nOiHTHZ, 
 
 «AA ^x. MT0O2) than expressed by the words 
 themselves, I am much inclined to suppose some 
 .omission in the text. 
 
 The other reading, 'OTK aTi^i^w, is very fJau- 
 sibly supported l^y the Abbe Batteux, from a 
 passage of Aristotle's Rhetoric, which has been 
 already mentioned in note 104*. I doubt, 
 * however, 
 
 f Rhet. 1. c. 11. T«y h icif&ov, iu /*£v arexvoi eViy— *.t.a. 
 
176 .H O T E S. 
 
 however, whether that passage be fairly applicable 
 to this \ But though it were, the sense above 
 given, and which I think must be given, to the 
 expression frtvomfAivai wro T« n. seems hardly 
 reconcilable \>ith this reading. For can we con- 
 ceive that Aristotle would assign as a reason why 
 such discoveries are not itmrtijicialy tlmt they are 
 itbitrarili/ (and therefore easily,) invented by the 
 
 Poet? — AIO »x dn^voi. 
 
 I must observe, however, that though these two 
 readings are diametrically opposite, — mn^yoi — ix 
 ^Vfp^vo* — yet, it is some comfort, that whichever 
 we adopt, the general sense of the passage will 
 be the same. As such discoveries are of the 
 Poefs moentmiy they are not drtx^oi, in the rhe- 
 torical sense : as they require very little invention, 
 compared with those which arise from the action 
 itself, they may, in this view, be denominated, 
 «Tfx>o». In either reading, therefore, Aristotle 
 will be found to say the same thing; i.c. that the 
 discoveries of this secofid species are, in point of 
 art and ingenuity, superior to ihe^rst species, and 
 inferior to all the rest. 
 
 * In that passage, attyya, is opposed to ENTEXNA, 
 and means, such things as are foreign to the orator* s art. 
 —Here, the' word means, noi foreign to the Poet's art, 
 but only— ^ffH/V/fff little^ or no ah^ or ingenuity of in- 
 ventigp, in the Poet, 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 J77 
 
 NOTE 124. 
 
 P. 149- Orestes, after having disco- 
 
 VERED HIS SISTER, DISCOVERS HIMSELF TO HER. 
 The Greek is — Miyy^ji^ifri mu oih\(pnVj iytyvw 
 
 fitrSfif uV Usiyn^ :— tliis, as Victorius has observed, 
 seems to say the reverse.; i.e. that Orestes dis- 
 covered his sister after having been discovered by 
 her : which is not the fact. One would rather 
 
 have expected— uy^ym^i^cc; mu cl$eX<pfiv, ocpiym- 
 
 fi<r9>i uV* ixftpnr. which would also have been 
 clearer, and not have given occasion to the coai- 
 mentators to suppose, that the discovery of Iphi- 
 genia by the letter was meant to be included in 
 this second a.nd faulty species of discovery ; whereas 
 the expression 'OION Of ANErNf2PI2E tij. dhxtpnv, 
 leads very naturally to that idea. But it is easy 
 to see, upon the least reflection, that the discovery 
 of Orestes onlij is the example here intended. 
 This is sufficiently explained by Dacier after 
 Victorius. It was natural enough, however, for 
 Aristotle to mention the oMer discovery, in passincT, 
 as being the counterpart of a double dyxyy^oKng in 
 the same drama. [See cap. xi. at the end. Transl. 
 Part II. Sect. 9.] — But this whole passage, I may 
 say, this whole chapter, has undoubtedly beeii 
 most miserably mangled in transcription. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 
 NOTE 125. 
 
 P. 149. But Orestes, by [verbal proofs] &c. 
 The reading which Victorius regarded as most 
 
 ##**## 
 
 rauTot 
 
 authentic is tUs : — hmi^ St 
 
 — Buz Jour Medicean manuscripts, and, it seems, 
 all those in the King of France's library, agree in 
 reading — l)c«i/®- Si aJr©* xtyu, x.t.x.*, and, in the 
 latter, we are told, tlie words are written without 
 any fiiatus. This last reading, however, appears 
 to me short and deficient. I cannot but think 
 that the author, after the words Ix^y^ h, — had 
 expressed the means of the discovery, and by them 
 denominated this species, as he has all the others: 
 
 — Ji<x (r»/x{t«oi/-— ^ia pvu/xrif— Ix (ruAAoyic/xa — . But 
 
 hoxv the vacancy was filled, it is impossible to de- 
 termine; and it is of the less consequence to 
 determine, as we are in possession of the Tragedy 
 itself A*a (Tiijtxcjftjv, which Victorius found in one 
 IMS. or, cia Tix/A»if*wv, as Dacier ingeniously con- 
 jectured from the words of Euripides himself, 
 seem most probable. In point of meaning, it is 
 indifferent by which of these appellations tliesc 
 discoveries were distinguished^ T£x/xTi^*oy being, 
 
 according 
 
 /■ 
 
 if- 
 It* 
 
 * See edit. Ox, 1780, and Battcux's translation, note 3. 
 
 But M. Batteux is mistaken in saying that Victorius 
 
 omits the words ratrra «v: — he gives them in his text, and 
 translates them in his commentary. He rejects only the 
 supplement, }ia cnifuiwi^ 
 
 NOTES. 179 
 
 according to Aristotle's own definition in his 
 Rhetoric, only a species of <rnjU£ioi>. Tarwy Se 
 
 (1. e. T«i> a-pif^ucoy,) TO fxiv dvocyitociov, Tfxjtxtj^iov **. 
 
 Zu/xf iojr is a sign, or token : Tix/au^iov, a certain, 
 decisive sign, such as puts an end to all doubt, 
 according to the derivation of the word given by 
 Aristotle in the passage just referred to. We see, 
 therefore, with what strict propriety the word is 
 used by Euripides, when Iphigenia demands, and 
 Orestes professes to give, a decisive proof: 
 
 Iphig, — ex^tg Tt rcavSe fioi TEKMHPION; 
 
 And Orestes, presently after, when he produces 
 his last and strongest proof, says 
 
 'a J' ilhv ayT(&., Ta^6 (pjacrw TEKMHPIA^ 
 
 It is, indeed, some objection to ^*a o-u/iAnwp, in 
 this passage of Aristotle, that it would appear to 
 confound this discovery with the Jirst, by giving 
 it the same denomination. But this, perhaps, 
 would be sufficiently obviated by the explanation 
 immediately subjoined : — hot, (tu/ahwv* TATTA fjLty 
 
 iy air^ AErEI a ^aXtron, &C. 2ti/uifiOk, in the 
 
 first species of discovery, is used for visible, ex- 
 ternal proofs : here, it would be used for verbal, 
 argumentative proofs ; as it is used, continually, 
 in this treatise. And it may also be observed, 
 
 that 
 
 "^» 
 
 •• Lib. i. cap. ii. p. 5 1 7, ed, Duval, 
 
 *" Jpl^ig' in Taur.— from v. 808 — to &26.— In the 
 Electra of Sophocles, SA^H 2HME1A is used, v. 892, 
 as equivalent to rtxfjtn^nov which occurs afterwards^ v. 910. 
 
 N 2 
 
 ^S 
 
i8o NOTES. 
 
 that Ajistotle him>>elf, at the end of this chapter, 
 (it the integrity of ihe text be admitted,) reters to 
 this sort of discovery, among others, under the 
 denomination of TmroiniMSpx 2HMEIA. 
 
 
 .f 
 
 NOTE 126. 
 
 P. 149. Foe, some of the things, from 
 
 WHICH THOSE PROOFS ARE DRAWN, ARE EVEN 
 SUCH AS MIGHT HAVE BEEN PRODUCED AS 
 VISIBLE SIGNS. 
 
 — Efni/ yot^ dy hix x«* £;/£yxi(v. — In the sense 
 which I have given to this obscure sentence, the 
 only sense that I thought could fairly be extracted 
 from the words, I am glad to find myself sup- 
 ported by the judgment of Victorius. — " Quare 
 " prop^ dictum peccatum est : (<^«' lyyvg mg 
 " «4^tj/tx«ktjf ajuuafTta? Ifiv.) quia si ilia quibus usus 
 " est Orestes non oninin6 signa fuerunt ; — neque 
 " enim ostendi potuerunt; — prop^ tamen ilia 
 ** accesserunt; atque ita proph ut quasdam ex 
 " ipsis iiiius prosus generis Juerinty quamvis ita 
 " ipsis ille usus non sit. Hoc enun arbitror va- 
 " lere, ** liabat eiiim qu<tdam etiam port are'' — 
 ** id est, manu tenere, et jubere ut ipsa videret ac 
 ** reminisceretur," &c. 
 
 Ena, because all the proofs of Orestes were not 
 of this kind, but only Electra s woj^k, and tlie lance. 
 
 h* 
 
 .i: 
 
 NOTES 
 
 x8x 
 
 NOTE 127. 
 
 P. 149. The DISCOVERY by the sound 
 
 t)F THE SHUTTLE. 
 
 *H Tii? xf^xicJ©^ ^wkfi — Dacier, after some other 
 commentators, makes a speaking shuttle of this ; 
 and wonders, as, indeed, he well might, that the 
 great critic shoiild let so monstrous an absurdity 
 pass v^ithout a severer censure than that of its 
 wanting art. Others understand, much more 
 reasonably, not the literal, but the metaphorical, 
 voice of the shuttle, in the epistolary web by 
 which Philomela is said to have conveved to her 
 sister the dismal tale of her sufferines, 
 
 — »Vk TToiKiXfjLoca-t STOMA TI %^i?(ra/^syi7, 
 
 in the language of that most curious of all Poets, 
 John Ttetzes *. 
 
 But as this seems to have been the current tra- 
 ditional story, I do not see how it could be ad- 
 duced as a circumstance irwented at pleasure by 
 the Poet. I should rather suppose, that the dis- 
 covery in question, whatever it might be, was 
 effected by the sound of the shuttle, which Aris- 
 totle calls, ^i*»), voicCy not, probably, in his own 
 language, but in the poetical language of the 
 Tragedy itself to which he alludes. For these 
 xf^^iJ'ff, it seems, were a very weal sort of things, 
 notiiing like the shuttles of " these degenerate 
 
 ** days." 
 
 !i 
 
 V* .ChiU vii. 14a.— bee Ovid's Mctam. lib, vi. 572^ &c. 
 
 N 3 • 
 

 182 NOTES. 
 
 t 
 
 '* days." Every one recollects the *^ arguto pec-' 
 " tint'' of Virgil. But this is nothing to the 
 amplification of some Greek epigrammatists, who 
 scruple not to compare them to swallows, and even 
 to nightingales ; 
 
 KecjCiJa^ o^d^oXxXoKTi XEAIA02IN Bl)CBXo(puvisg — 
 
 And, 
 KeoytiSoc S* BUTToiriTov AHAONA — \ 
 
 Hence the ridiculous fancy of Joseph Scaliger, 
 that the metamorphosis of Procne into a swallow 
 was exhibited in the Tereiis of Sophocles, and that 
 a shuttle was made use of, instead of a whistle or 
 bird-pipe, to imitate the swallow's voice ! — 
 
 NOTE 128. 
 P. 149. Thus in the Cyprians of Di- 
 
 d:OGENES . 
 
 That this was a distinct Poem from the Kuirj t« 
 mentioned afterwards in cap. xxiii. seems clear 
 from this single' circumstance, observed by Vic- 
 torins, that the Epic Poem called The Cj/priacs, — 
 Ta KuTT^ia iTTfi, — is mentioned there by Aristotle, 
 as it is, generally, by other antient writers, in terms 
 that imply a doubt of its author * : whereas here 
 the author is named, without any expression of 
 uncertainty. 
 
 Whether the Poem was Epic, or Tragic, 
 cannot be determined ; nor, from the ambiguity of 
 
 the 
 
 ^ Anthoi lib, vi, cap, 8. • — 6 ra Kt/^r^ioxa 7rw»^flff - - -. 
 
 NOTES. tSj 
 
 the case, toi; KuTrptoK, whether the title of it was 
 Ta Kuvfia, or, 0» KuTrptot — The Cypriacs, or, The 
 Cyprians, The latter is, certainly, the most pro- 
 bable title for a Tragedy ^ and therefore, as Dicae- 
 ogenes is recorded only as a Tragic and Dithyr- 
 ambic Poet, I have ventured to adopt it. 
 
 xoTE 129, 
 
 P. 149. In the tale of Alcinqus . 
 
 See Od. viii. 521. — There is another discovery 
 of the same kind in the 4th book, where Menelaus 
 recognizes Telemachus by the tears he sheds at the 
 mention of his father. There is not, I think, 
 either in Homer, or in any other Poet, a more 
 natural and affecting picture of friendly regret on 
 the one hand, and filial affection on the other. — 
 " Of all the friends I have lost," says Menelaus, 
 addressing himself to Telemachus without know- 
 ing who he was — " one there is, whom I lament 
 " more than all the rest -^ — 
 
 - - - 0^6 fto/ XiTTVOV oLTTB'x^^cx.ioei %ock edcodviv 
 MveoofjLBvcp* iTret inq A%a/wi/ roctr Ifioyyia-tv 
 
 I/jlsXXbv 
 ^VTca Kv^ii e(ri(r6oUf IfJLOt ?' «%©* otitv dXug-ov 
 KBiv}if oTTcag Srj Stjoov aiTOix^Toct' ids ri IdfjLBv^ 
 Zeait oy\ if TBdvtpcev, Oov^ovrat w ttk avTOV 
 AuBpTTjg (f yB^m, xoci ex^^P^v Ui^veXoTrBioif 
 
 TTjXBfJLOCX^ 6\ QV eXBlTTB VBOV yByOiCOT iVl OhKCa, 
 
 N 4 Hg 
 

 1 
 
 It: 
 it: 
 
 J84 1^ O T E S. 
 
 AocK^v 6 OLTTO (iXe(po&om '^^ufjLu^ig jQaXs, ttut^O^ 
 XXotivcxv '7ro^(pva£7iu avT o(p6uXfjLouv oivua")(cov 
 Afi(poTt^,(n %6j(ri • voyi(TB Sb /juv MbvbXx^, - - - 
 
 Od. A. 105 — ■. 
 
 That the title, Axx»vo», or AXxn/a, dfroXoy^, was 
 understood to refer ckic/ly to the long narration of 
 Ulysses, which occupies four books of the Odys- 
 sey, seems clear, even from the proverbial 
 application of the expression. AiroXoy^ AAxivo». — 
 
 Siitdas. And so Jul. Pollux : — Ix* [axx^uv fnctuv ^ 
 But a passage in Aristotle's Rhetoric leaves no 
 doubt. lie there expressly mentions Homer's 
 account of the speech of Ulysses to Penelope, 
 Od. xxiii. 310, Sec. as being the AAx»j/» aVoXoy^ 
 compressed into an abridgment of thirty verses. — 
 
 Xojrvv lu T^iaxoi'Ta lirKri Tmroifiron % Now those 
 
 verses are, in fact, a mere table of contents to the 
 9th, 1 oth, 1 1 th, and 1 f th books, which contain 
 the narrative of Ulysses at the court of Alcinous. — • 
 This title, therefore, (AAxik« AwoXoy^) must at 
 least have extended to those^bwr books. But the 
 passage which is the subject of this note, seems to 
 
 prove 
 
 ■ — — ■ - I ■ 
 
 * N^it ill translaied by Femon, in Popi$ Odyssey^ 
 bookiv. 131. 
 
 ^ ri. 4. and VI. 26. 
 
 « III. 16.^. 603. ed. DuvaL 
 
 NOTES. 185 
 
 prove that it extended still farther ; for here we 
 are referred to the eighth book under that title ; 
 though the speech, th© /aax^a pfjo-i? of Ulysses, 
 does not commence till tiie ninth. The editions 
 prefix the title, Axxiva diroXoTOl, only to the eighth 
 book. — The fact seems to be, that the titles, by 
 which the different parts of Homer's Poems were 
 first distinguished, were applied to parts of very 
 unequal lengths ; so that afterwards, when the 
 equal, or nearly equal, division into books took 
 place, it would not always coincide exacriy with 
 the other division, formed by the different distinct 
 subjects or episodes of the Poem ; but one title 
 would sometimes comprehend several books, and 
 different parts of the same book, would sometimes 
 be distinguished by different titles. Thus, for 
 example, the Jifth book of the Odyssey had two 
 titles, KaAu\J/»f Apt^ov, and Sp^iJ'ta, or Ta tt^^* mv 
 orp^fJ'tay : and the last book ihree, Nixuiak — Tx b 
 Axi^ra — and, Zirey^^ai ^ And thus, on the other 
 hand, the title, AXxii/a ATroAoy©*, is not, I appre- 
 hend, to be considered as appiopriated to any one 
 book, but, probably, comprehended five books — 
 from the eighth to the twelfth, inclusively ; per- 
 haps, was understood to refer, generally, to the 
 whole Episode of Alcinous; as indeed the ex- 
 pression AAKINOT dwoXoy©* — " the story of 
 Alcinous" — seems rather to imply. And the 
 
 diflferent 
 
 •* See -dLhan, F, Hist, lib, xiii. cap, 14, and the notes 
 of Perizoniufi. 
 
V' 
 
 if* 
 
 ' ^ 
 
 186 NOTES. 
 
 different parts of this long Episode were, again, 
 subdistinguished by other titles ; such as, KvxXuTnoc, 
 N£xuta, Ta Kifxu?, &c. Indeed, the title, AXkh/h 
 AwaXoyoi, though prefixed only to the eighth 
 book, seems evidently extended beyond that book 
 by the title subjoined as its equivalent, — 'H, t« t» 
 
 0$MV<n(»)q TTCc^x AAxtvw, But how the word aTro- 
 
 ^•0^ got ^^^o the plural number here, I do not 
 well understand. This circumstance, however, 
 together with the idea of its being confined to this 
 single book, has, I think, led Perizonius and other 
 learned men into mistakes concerning the 7rason 
 of the appellation. Perizonius (ubi sup.) thinks 
 the eighth book was so called, " because there are 
 " several speeches of Aldnous in it ;" and others 
 suppose, that the title alludes to the songs of 
 Demodocus *. 
 
 NOTE 130. 
 P. 150. The discovery occasioned by 
 
 REASONING, OR INFERENCE; SUCH AS THAT 1^ 
 THE CnOEPHORiE — . 
 
 Here is much obscurity and confusion. — On^ 
 thing, however, seems clear; that Jx ffuXApy*(r/Lnr, 
 cannot mean as some interpreters have under- 
 stood it to mean, " by reasoning or inference in 
 " the mind of the person who makes the dis- 
 " covery ;' because this is common to all the 
 modes of discovery. When Electra recognizes 
 
 her 
 
 • SchEnidiuS; ia Find. >iein. p. 34, 
 
 NOTES. 187 
 
 her brother, does she not infer;- or, in the phi- 
 losopher's language, syllogize ? " This man has 
 ** seen the lance — nobodv could see it but Ores- 
 " tes — This is Orestes." — And the same may be 
 said of all the other recognitions. Discovery by 
 inference, therefore, on the part of the discacerer, 
 cannot be made a distinct species. The discovery 
 Aristotle means, is plainly a discovery, not made, 
 but occasioned, by inference. Throughout all his 
 instances, he considers only the means, or occasion, 
 of discovery, as furnished, in some way or other, 
 by the person discovered. With respect to bodily 
 marks, bracelets, &c. the letter of Iphigenia, and 
 the verbal Tjx/An^ta of Orestes, this is obvious 
 enough. But the case is the same with the dis- 
 covery by memory : in both the examples of that 
 species, the persons are discovered, not by recol- 
 lection in the discoverers, but by the effects of it 
 in themselves. And so here too, in the three 
 last examples of discovery Ix (ruXAoyifl7A», however 
 obscure in other respects, this at least seems clearly 
 enough expressed, that the persons are discovered 
 by their awn reasoning, or inference ; that is, by 
 something which it leads them to say *. 
 
 B^t, the difficulty is, that Aristotle's first 
 example, appears not to accord with thb idea, and 
 
 with 
 
 * Some time after these remarks were written, I found 
 them coincide exactly with those of Piccolomini, whose 
 comment on this passage is, as usual, exact and clear. 
 See also Benius, who follows him. 
 
 hi. 
 
it ,^» ' 
 
 10 
 
 i88 NOTES, 
 
 with the other examples. The inference here, 
 appears to be, even from the words themselves ^ 
 and, if the Choephara of JEschytus be intended, 
 as the commentators suppose, certainly is, — in- 
 ference in the mind of the |)erson who makes the 
 discovery. But as this, for the reasons already 
 given, cannot, I think, be admitted, we must cither 
 leave this knot as it is, or solve it by supposing some 
 other Tragedy, not extant, to be meant, in h hich 
 the conclusion mentioned was, as in all the other . 
 instances that follow, the occasion only of the dis- 
 covery ^ Nor will this appear a very improbable 
 supposition, if we recollect the swarm of Tragic 
 Poets who were continually exercising their inven- 
 tion upon a few popular subjects, and the number 
 of different Tragedies which, in consequence, we 
 find recorded, not only on the same subject, but 
 even with the same title ; often with some slight 
 variation only, in the mode of a discovery, and 
 other episodic mcidents of the plot, which would 
 still leave a general resemblance, a sort oi family 
 likeness, between them, such as, in fact, we find 
 
 m 
 
 ^ TfTOf TTi 5f , r\ Eft (TU?^^i(rfjLH ' oiov, h Xoij^f oij [at. Xxon-^ 
 
 "" So, Bcni : *' Itaque prlmum exemplum sic intelligen- 
 «' dum crediderim, ut Electra agnita sit, non Orestes: 
 ^' ita, nimirum, ui cum Orestes eo modo ratiocinantem 
 " audiret puellam, dum Orestem slbi similem diceret, inde 
 ♦* Eiectram agnoscatr Pauli Benii, in Ar. Poet. Com- 
 ment, p. 348. 
 
 notes; 189 
 
 in Tragedies on the same subject iK)w extant; 
 in the Electra of Sophocles, and that' of Euripides^ 
 and the Chdephora of iEschylus. 
 
 But we may say, farther, that this supposition 
 seems to be favoured by the Tragedy of ^schylqs, 
 itself; with which, what Aristotle here says, ap- 
 pears to me by no means^ exactly to correspond. 
 The reader, who will take the trouble to examine 
 the whole passage supposed to be here alluded to, 
 from V. 166, to V. 233 "*, will, I believe, think with 
 me, that the discovery, in that play, cannot with 
 propriety be denominated a discovery made by in- 
 ference from resemblance. The circumstances of 
 the lock of hair, and the footsteps, produce in 
 Electra s mind no more than a glimmering of 
 hope — coLivo^on S" uV Ixirii^ [v. 192.] — and she 
 is so far from discovering Orestea by them, that 
 even when he appears before her, she is not con- 
 vinced till he produces the vfpoca-iAoc — the vest, or 
 veil. This is justly remarked by Brumoy ; " Tout 
 " cela (i. e. the hair, &c.) nefait que la rendre 
 " plus inquiete : EUe demeure done dans cc trou- - 
 " ble jusqu' i ce qu' Oreste paroisse h ses yeux. 
 " II se montre tout a coup, et se fait reconnoitre 
 " pour sonfrere, en lui prhentant un voile quelle 
 " a tissu ellc-mcme '." TJus I take to be the true 
 
 dvocyvupKri? 
 
 * In Mr. Potter's jEschylus, from p. 329, to 334. 
 Quarto. 
 
 ■^ Theat, des Grecs, ii, p. 6. — Mr. Potter is of the 
 same opinion : — *^ JV^ discovery is from /lence raised : but 
 
 *< the 
 
:4 
 
 
 H'.- 
 
 190 NOTES. 
 
 ovaykw^io-i? of this drama; and it belongs rather 
 to Aristotle's ^r^/ class — ^»« <nip5i«v; if not even 
 to the worst sort of that class, where the sign is 
 produced ^*r«wf Ivfxa, — by way of proof. Indeed, 
 even admitting that Electra may be considered as 
 recognizing her brother by hiference fiom the re- 
 semblance of the lock of hair and the footsteps 
 only, still, as Piccolomini acutely and solidly ob- 
 serves, this instance would belong to the jf?r^^ 
 species of discovery by signs, ** Questo riconos- 
 ** cimento non h della quart a speck ^ ma della 
 prima; nato, non da sillogismOy m^ da segno: 
 posciache Elettra, preso per segno d'Oreste la 
 capigliatura, sopra tal segno, quasi sopra mezzo 
 ** tennine, fabrica il sillogismo che ella fk in se 
 stessa, argomentando, che colui fusse Oreste : 
 havendo io gi^ detto, ch' in ogni riconoscimento 
 suoT intervemr sillogismo ed argomentatiotie 
 " dentro alT animo della persona riconoscente.^' 
 p. 236. 
 
 NOTE 131. 
 
 p. 150. " He came TO FIND HIS SON, AND 
 " HE HIMSELF MUST PERISH." 
 
 It is not very obvious, how these words are to 
 be brought to any thing like reasoning, or in- 
 ference, — But all here is darkness. The far- 
 fetched explanation which Dacier has condescended 
 
 to 
 
 ** the mind of Electra is deeply struck ; she reasons and 
 " conjectures, and so is finely prepared for the discovery 
 '* which ioon follows,^* Notes on the Choephorse. 
 
 ec 
 
 ii 
 
 <( 
 
 a 
 
 <( 
 
 ic 
 
 NOTES. 191 
 
 to borrow, without notice, from Castelvetro, for 
 whom, in his preface, he expresses so much con- 
 tempt, only serves to make the " darkness" more 
 " visible." 
 
 I know not wliether it be worth while to remark 
 a mere resemblance of expression, but a very close 
 one, in Homer : 
 
 Mfj TTargf' uvTideov AIZHMENO£, ATTOi: 
 'OAriMAI. Od. O. 90. 
 
 NOTE. 132. 
 
 P. 150. There is also a compound 
 
 SORT, &C. 
 
 When the meaning of an author cannot be 
 satisfactorily explained, all that a translator can do, 
 is, to be particularly careful to render faithfully his 
 words. This I have endeavoured to do here : but 
 whether I have done even this, the manifest cor- 
 ruption of the text must leave uncertain. What- 
 ever sense *may be enveloped in the Greek, I hope 
 remains enveloped in the English. But what that 
 is, I will not undertake to say. — With respect to 
 the title of the drama, O^va-crtvg ^gu^ayyfX®*, if I 
 have not given it its only possible sense, I have, 
 surely, given it its most natural and obvious 
 sense : — Ulysses in the disguise of a messenger. 
 For I rnn really not able to see, how the words, 
 without violent twisting, can be made to signify 
 passively, as Castelvetro would have it, '' Ulisse di 
 
 i( 
 
 CUl 
 
\ 
 
 1$: 
 
 'I 
 
 I sj**^ 
 
 192 NOTES. 
 
 *' cut sono recate false novelh ;" though Victorius 
 has pronounced a man to be a fool, who pretends 
 to determine which of these two meanings is the 
 right one *. Had o. false Ulysses been meant, it 
 seems probable, that the word '¥vjMv<ra'iv^ would 
 rather have l>een used ; as H'iv^n^ocKXrt;, The false 
 HerculeSy was the title of a Comedy of M enander. 
 
 AvxyvupisvT^ — sc, t8 fifar^a : I see no Other 
 construction, as the text stands. And so Vic- 
 torius : — '' Spectatores ita accepisse illam vocem, 
 ** tanquam si ipsi, rei illius auxilio, ipsum agni- 
 " turi essent'^ 
 
 Ulysses seems to have been a rich and valuable 
 resource to the dramatic writers. His history fur- 
 nished the subjects of many ComedieSy as well as 
 Tragedies. See Casaubon upon Athenaeus, 
 p. 297. — There were, Ulysses IVounded — Ulysses 
 Mad — Ulysses the Deserter — Ulysses Ship- 
 wrecked — Ulysses Weaving^ &c. — The subject of 
 the play here mentioned seems to have been sug- 
 gested by Homer, Od. H. 1 20. But, what it was— 
 bow this discovery was compound {(tv^^it^) — or 
 how, indeed, it was a discovery at all — ^what the 
 precise paralogism was, &c. I confess myself 
 totally unable, from the short, perplexed, and pro- 
 bably corrupt words of the text, to make out 
 The reader may see, however, a great variety of 
 different conjectures in the commentators; and 
 
 I believe 
 
 * ** Haec enim ita incerta sunt, ut ilultum esse videatur 
 aliquid ipsorum afiErmare." 
 
 NOTES. ipj 
 
 I believe when he has read them all, he will find 
 himself just where he was. For my part, I leave 
 this bow of Ulysses to be bent by stronger arms 
 than mine : — 
 
 NOTE 133. 
 
 P. 151. But of all discoveries, the best 
 
 IS THAT WHICH ARISES FROM THE ACTION" 
 ITSELF . 
 
 I agree with those commentators, who under- 
 stand this to be given by Aristotle as a species of 
 Mayvu}(nrig distinct from any of the preceding. 
 This appears, i . From his examples, which are 
 very different from all those before produced, 
 and not reducible, I think, to any of his classes. 
 The discovery of Iphigenia by the letter, is, in- 
 deed, mentioned under his second class, but not 
 as an instance of that species. — See note 1 ^4. 
 2dly, and principally, from his saying, " After these, 
 *' the nea:t best are the discoveries by inference'' — 
 ^naming an entire species; which he would not, 
 surely, have done, had his best of all discoveries 
 been such, as might be found equally in the other 
 species ; had he been speaking, as some under- 
 stand him, only of the best way of using the 
 discoveries already enumerated. 
 
 vox.. H. 
 
'94 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 m 
 
 ,.(* 
 
 NOTE 134. 
 
 P. 151. Such discoveries are the best, 
 
 BECAUSE THEY ALONE ARE EFFECTED WITHOUT 
 INVENTED FROOFS, OR BRACELETS, &C. NexT 
 TO THESE ARE THE DISCOVERIES BY IN- 
 FERENCE. 
 
 If the words, ir£iro*ii/A«vwv tnnixnuvy refer, as it 1$ 
 generally understood, to the secorid sort of disco- 
 veries exclusively, it is not easy to see how it can 
 ' be true, that the Jiftk and best sort of discoveries, 
 that £x TrpayfActTuv, is the onlj^ one that is effected 
 without uvcented signs, bracelet s^ &c. — for, on^ 
 this supposition, the same may evidently be said 
 of tlie third ^uA fourth classes, those by mermry, 
 and by inference^ which are expressly distinguished 
 from the two first classes. 
 
 This inconsistence is not, I think, to be removed, 
 but by understanding the words TriTroinj^tEva <r?ip£i«, 
 here, to be used in a wider sense, as including the 
 third ^.ni fourth species, and, in general, all dis- 
 coveries that have any degree of the defect which 
 Aristotle means to point out by the expression 
 w£7ro»t)/x£vat uTro t8 woitiTK, used in describing the 
 S€C07id species, as opposed to what he calls, if 
 a^rm fr^xyfAotruy ; though that second species only 
 is expressly so denominated, because it had thii 
 fault in the most glaring degree. 
 
 Any incident, or single action, of that combi- 
 nation of actions that compose a fable, is said, 
 
 I think. 
 
 NOTES. 195 
 
 I think* to be i^ u^rtiiy 7rpay[ji.aTuv, when it is pre- 
 pared in the texture of the plot, and appears to 
 follow so naturally and of course (jcara to ctVay- 
 mmMit i ro tlx^ — ) from the incidents which precede 
 it, that the spectator does not see how it could 
 have been otherwise*. On the contrary, those 
 incidents are not tf aurwy Tr^ayfAaruv, which are not 
 thus gradually prepared, but have, more or less, 
 the appearance of expedients brought in to answer 
 the purpose of tFie moment; which suggest the 
 idea of occasional and easy contrivance ; which, 
 though not, perhaps, improbable, yet have not 
 such a degree of probability, as answers fully the 
 purpose of dramatic illusion, by acting upon the 
 inind of the spectator as 72ecessity *, and keepinc^ 
 his attention rivetted to the action, without suf- 
 fering him, as it were, to turn his eyes a moment 
 from it, to the resources of the Poefs invention. 
 
 Now the third ond fourth sorts of discovery 
 appear, when we examine them, to be of thk kind. 
 
 They 
 
 * What is here expressed by, eicxuruf Tr^aYfxaTvv, is more^ 
 fully expressed, cap, x. where he says of the discovery 
 and revolution, that they should arise ki cumi,; rrn a-vrcwiug 
 ritfjujGH' iff EKTHN nPOrEFENHMENaN (rufjSaivnv, • 
 ii si avaywi h xata to slii^, ytyvsaQat raura, TransL 
 Part II. Sect. 8. 
 
 ** *' Pulsque la fonction du vraisemblable dans la Tra- 
 ** gedie, est d'empecher de s'appercevoir dc la feinte, le 
 '* vraisemblable qui trompe le mieux est le plus parfait, et 
 ** c'est celui qui devient neceisaire'' Fontenelle, Refl 
 fur la Poetique, Sect, ^3. 
 
 O 2 
 
ih 
 
 196 * N O T E S. 
 
 They are not prepared and brought on gradually 
 by the precious circumstances of the fable, as in 
 the examples given fiorn the Oedipus, and Iphi- 
 gerua in TauriSy but effected by contrivances, more 
 or less naturally introduced by the Poet, at the 
 moment w hen they are wanted ; by tears suddenly 
 shed at the sight of a picture, by an exclajmtion 
 suddenly uttered. These, therefore, are not im- 
 properly included under tlic denomination of 
 «-i7r<wu/Af>a (uVo ra Troiurs) ; and they are, also, in 
 the proper and logical sense of the word, trn^ua ; 
 the tears, in the one case, and the illative reflection, 
 'or €j:clamation, in the other, being signs or tokens, 
 by which the persons are recognized. And thus, 
 what Aristotle here says seems true— that the dis- 
 covery which arises out of the action itself] is the 
 only sort that is mtirely effected «wu r«v n^TrQi^fAtytcf 
 €fifAiMtf XXI T£^»Jfpatw> : by vB^ih^xnx, meanintr the 
 Jirst class of discovenes, and under Triw. <rrj/x. 
 comprehending the three other classes. 
 
 He has, plainly, arranged his modes of dis- 
 covery, as he had before arranged the modes of 
 managing the Traflai, or disastrous incidents, of 
 Tragedy {cap, xiv.)— in the order of their com- 
 parative excellence ; beginning with the worst, and 
 proceeding gradually to the best. , When he tells 
 us, that the discoveries by inference are the next 
 best, he evidently considers them, as not being, 
 strictly at least, s^ auVwv 7rpay/*aT«i- ; and so far, 
 I think, is intelligible : but, in what respect they 
 
 are 
 
 NOTES. 197 
 
 are better than the preceding species, $iol fAunfAn^ 
 he has not told us. The discovery by recollection 
 may, perhaps, in this respect be regarded as less 
 fj auTtwv ir^xyiAKTm, or, more of the *' Poet's 
 making,'' as it seems to require tiie introduction 
 of something accidental and extraneous, such as 
 the picture in his first instance, and the Bard and 
 his performance, in the second ; circumstances, 
 which have more the appearance of expedients 
 than the reflection of Orestes, for example, in the 
 Tragedy of Polyides. For that reflection arose, 
 at least, naturally, and solely, from his situation, 
 and that situation was essential to the fable. — But 
 it is tin>e to release the reader, and myself, from 
 the embarrassments of one of the most corrupt, 
 confused, and ambiguous chapters of this mutilated 
 and disfigured work. 
 
 NOTE 135. 
 
 P. 152. This, the Poet, &c. 
 'O fi.yi o^u¥T(k Toi» iiarnv Ixay^xviv. Dacier has, 
 at least, I think, satisfactorily proved, that this 
 passage wants some emendation, and that the sense 
 must be—" escaped the Poet, (not the spectator,) 
 " for want of his seeing, or conceiving himself to 
 " see, tlie action." He might have added to his 
 other reasons, that the word Xxvixyono, applied 
 just before to the Poet^ seems to fix the same 
 application of Ixav^xyi here. The opposition, as 
 he has observed, is strongly marked :— it escaped 
 
 O 3 the 
 
 w 
 
198 NOTES. 
 
 the Poet) i-rri AE mi SKHNHI, &c. but upon 
 the stage, &c. Castelvetro had seen this before 
 Dacier, and conjectured, ^ah, o^uvrx, X22 ro¥ 
 fiiATtik, iXav^autif AN. " La qual contrariety non 
 " sarebbe potuto essere celata a Carcino, se 
 " avesse riguardata la sua Tragedia non come 
 " Poeta, ma come veditore^.'" The ingenuity of 
 the conjecture may be allowed ; not so, I fear, the 
 accuracy of the Greek. 
 
 NOTE 136. 
 
 P. 152. In COMPOSING, THE PoET SHOULD 
 ALSO, AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE, BE AN ACTOR. 
 
 — ToK <r^ij/tAa(r» (rvvocTrtfyx^ofAsyoy wonty — The 
 
 same expression occurs in the Rhetoric, III. 8. — 
 
 avayxri rsf (rvvot7rs^yx^o[j.iViig (r^'n[xoc(ri, xxi ^wkaif, xon 
 itrOijT*, xon oAwg Tt» uttoxoice*, iXstiyors^Hq ilyai. But 
 
 there, this is mentioned only as the means, by 
 which the Orator may excite greater emotion in 
 the hearer, immediately : here, as the means, by 
 which the Poet may excite a stronger emotion, a 
 greater reality of imagination and feeling, and a 
 more perlect alienation of person, if I may ven- 
 ture so to call it, in himself, immediately ; in order 
 to produce afterwards a correspondent effect upon 
 the spectator, by the force and truth of his imi- 
 tation. 
 
 " I have often observed,'' says the admirable 
 author of the Inquiry conccrniyig the Sublime and 
 
 Beautiful, 
 
 * ^. 371- 
 
 NOTES. ,99 
 
 Beautiful, " that on mimicking the looks and 
 " gestures of angry, or placid, or frighted, or 
 '* daring men, I have involuntarily found my mind 
 turned to that passion whose appearance I en- 
 deavoured to imitate ; nay, I am convinced it 
 " is hard to avoid it, tliough one strove to sepa- 
 *' rate the passion from its correspondent ges- 
 tures \'' I believe, however, it is hardly 
 possible tp put on the bodily appearance of any 
 passion, without previously turning the mind, in 
 some degree, to that passion. But it is certain, 
 that the effect, in tliis case, will react upon the 
 cause, and convert a slight and nascent emotion 
 into a more steady, strong, and real feeling of the 
 passion. 
 
 A singular instance of the practice of this rule 
 
 of Aristotle — 0';^?)ua(ri a-Myonri^yxl^oii.iyov irQiuv — in 
 
 a sister art, is given in the following curious ac- 
 count, from Felibicn, of Domenichino, a painter 
 remarkable for expression, 
 
 " II ne pouvoit comprendre qu'il y eut des 
 peintres qui travaillassent k des ouvrages consi- 
 " derables avec si peu d application, que pendant 
 *' leur travail ils ne laissassent pas de s entretenir 
 " avec leurs amis. II les regardoit comme des 
 ^' ouvriers qui n avoient que le pratique, et nulle 
 " intelligence de lart; etant persuaJ6 qu'un 
 " Peintre, pour bien r^iissir, doit entrer dans une 
 ^ " parfaite 
 
 Pan IV. Sect. IV. — Sec also die curious accoun 
 there given of CampaneUa. 
 
 04 * . 
 
 i ^ 
 i»^l 
 
u 
 
 €< 
 
 u 
 
 li 
 
 iC 
 
 200 .NOTES. 
 
 '' parfaite connoissance des affections de lesprit 
 et des passions de Tame ; qu'il doit les sentir 
 en lui mSme, et s'il faut ainsi dire, faire Its 
 memes actions et soufrir les mhnes mouvemens 
 qu^il veut representer : ce qui ne se peut ai> 
 milieu des distractions. Aussi on lentendoit 
 quelquefois parler en travaillant, avec une voix 
 languissante et pleine de douleur, ou tenir de» 
 " discours agreables et joyeux, selon les divers 
 " sentimens qull avoit intention d exprimer. Mais 
 pour cela, il s enferuioit dans un lieu fort retir6, 
 " pour n'fitre pas apperju dans ces differens ^tats, 
 ** ni par ses cloves, ni par ceux de sa famille ; 
 " parcequ'il lui ^toit arriv^ quelquefois, que des 
 ** gens qui lavoient vu dans ces transports, 
 " IVvoient soup^onn^ de folie. Lorsque dans sa 
 *^ jeunesse il travaiUoit au Tableau du Martyre 
 *' de S. Andr^ qui est h S. Gregoire, Annibal 
 Carrache etant alle pour le voir, il le surprit 
 " comme il ^toit dans une action de colere et 
 " menagante. Apres lavoir observe quelque 
 " temps, il connut qu'il representoit un soldat qui 
 *^ menace le S. Ap6tre. Alors ne pouvant plus. 
 *' se tenir cach6, il s approcha du Domeniquin, et 
 *^ en I'embrassant, lui avoiia qu'il avoit dans ce 
 " moment-Ic\ beaucoup appris.de lui ^" 
 
 I will just observe, farther, that this precept, or 
 rather counsel, of Aristotle, would appear the less 
 
 strange 
 
 ^ Fdibkn.^Entntiens sur Us ^Us dts Peintrcs^ &c. 
 tome iii. p. 379. 
 
 NOTES. 201 
 
 strange to the Poets of his time, because, as he 
 himself tells us, the earlier Tragic Poets were also 
 
 actors: uVix^«MifTi ya^ aJro* Tf«ywJ*ac oi ttoiutam to 
 
 *^»Toy.~Rhet, III. 1.— But, indeed, I am so far 
 from seeing any thing strange or improbable in this 
 advice, that, on the contrary, if it be liable to any 
 objection at all, it is, perhaps, rather to that of 
 being unnecessary : for I scarce believe, that any 
 Poet of genius, antient or modern, ever yet com- 
 posed a Tragedy without practising involuntarily, 
 in some degree or other, what the critic here re- 
 commends. No dramatic Poetry, I think, can 
 be less chargeable with the /4«hxov, than that of 
 tlie French, Yet M. Marmontel sees no diffi- 
 culty in this precept. In his account of this part 
 of Aristotle's work, he says, " II recommande 
 que Ton soit present k Taction que Ton veut 
 peindre, que Ton se p^netre soi-meme des sen- 
 ** timens que Ton doit exprimer, et qu'on imite, 
 " en composant, Taction des personnages qu'on 
 *' met sur la scene : m^thode qui contribue i^l- 
 ** lement k donner au style plus de chaleur et de 
 " v^rit6." [Poet. Franc, I. p. 15.] Mr. Mason 
 says of the late ingenious and amiable Mr. White- 
 head, whose dramatic compositions, whatever 
 other merit may justly be allowed them, certainly 
 bear no marks of any unmanageable phrensy in 
 the Poet,— that " he is apt to believe, that he 
 " always acted, or at least declaimed, while he was 
 " composing for tlic stage." I^ thai, even the 
 
 modem 
 
 c« 
 
 iC 
 
 i^ll 
 
 I 
 
K O T E S. 
 
 ^W*m Tragic Poet is, almost necessarily, more 
 or less, " an actor in composing," there can 
 surely be little difficulty in conceiving an iEschy- 
 lus, or a Sophocles, in their free, solitary, and 
 unwritten meditations, to have given still greater 
 scope to their imaginations, and, 'OZA ATNATON, 
 
 at least, fryyifxotin a-vyoLWi^yocc-octrixt. We must, for 
 
 once, divest ourselves of modem ideas, and think, 
 not of a spruce Poet of " these degenerate days,** 
 shut up in his study, with his pen in his hand, 
 and his WTiting-table before him— but of Euripides,- 
 retired into that lonely, dark, and shaggy cavern, 
 which is said to have been the favourite scene of 
 his Tragic meditations. " Philochorus refert, in 
 ** insula Salamine speluncam esse tetram et horri- 
 " dam, quam nos vidimus, in qua Euripides Tra- 
 " gctdim scriptitdritr—Aul. Gell. xv. 20. 
 
 NOTE 137. 
 E. 152. Foil BY NATURAL SYMPATHV, &C. 
 
 fiVi.— Nothing, I think, can be more forced and 
 improbabloj than the sense given to the words, 
 »Vo Tu^ auTUf ^uTcwf, by Victorius, and, after him, 
 by Goulston and Dacier : " eorum qui pari naturd 
 " ingenioque praditi, &c.—De deux hommes qui 
 " sermt d'un egal genie, celui qui se mettra dans 
 " la passion sera toujours plus persuasif." 
 
 If the text be right, the only sense I see is that 
 given by Hebsius :--^" propter similituditiem ejus- 
 
 " dan 
 
 
 *i 
 
 -V 
 
 NOTES. 203 
 
 " — i.e. ^^JrtmmLtural sympathy!' 
 — But I am much deposed tanm^KCt, thai ^le 
 should read, aV ATTHS TH2 ^vtriut^—ab ipsd 
 naturd ; — Ipsd naturd comparatum est, ut, &c. — 
 A similar, but contrary, transposition, of the same 
 words, occurred at the end of the second chapter : 
 ly aJrn it ry $ix(po^a, — plainly, as Victorius ob- 
 serves, instead of Iv THi ATTHi—. And, indeed, 
 this sense is so obvious, that Robortelli, Castel- 
 vetro, and Piccolomini, have all given it ii: their 
 translations, though certainly not warranted by the 
 text. However, as the other reading seems to 
 express, though somewhat obscurely, the same 
 idea, I have not departed from it any farther, than 
 by adopting the explanatory version of Heinsius, 
 which takes the meaning, and leaves the obscurity. 
 
 NOT£ 138. 
 
 P. 152. We SHARE THE AGITATION OF 
 THOSE WHO APPEAR TO BE TRULY AGITATED — 
 THE ANGER OF THOSE WHO APPEAR^ TO BE 
 TRULY ANGRY. 
 
 ^o/xcjr©* oAiifitj/wTfltTtf. I have given that sense 
 of this passage, in which all the commentators I 
 have seen are perfectly agreed. But I cannot dis- 
 semble a difficulty which has always occurred to 
 me in this interpretation, though, to my surprise, 
 I have not found it any where taken notice of. 
 I mean, that it gives a transitive sense to the verbs, 
 
 m 
 
 i»ll 
 
1 
 
 1 
 
 «04 NOTES. 
 
 Xt^l^nH, and x«A'*<»»«.. With respect, particu- 
 larly, to the verb x«^«Ta.M.», (for Uie other occurs 
 but seldom,) the difficulty from the general, if not 
 the constant, use of it, as a verb neuter, seems 
 not easily to be overcome. This use of it, by 
 Aristotle himself, and by other prose writers, is 
 so common and well known, that it would be mere 
 trifling to produce instances. That it is timer 
 used by them transitively, it would be rash, 
 perhaps, even in those, whose Greek reading is 
 much more extensive than my own, to affirm. I 
 can only say, Uiat I have never seen a clear in- 
 stance of it, either in prose, or verse. The 
 lexicographers, indeed, send us to Homer: but 
 without giving any instance that appears to me to 
 be at all decisive*. And, on the other hand, tiie 
 word occurs clearly in its usual and intransitive 
 sense in other passages: as, //. S. 256. n. 386. 
 2. 1 03, &c. But even admitting the verb to be 
 now and then used by Homer in a sense indis- 
 putably transitive, it seems very unlikely, that 
 Aristotle should transplant so rare, and poetical, 
 a use of tlie word, into plain and philosophical 
 prose ; especially as other verbs were probably at 
 hand, if he meant what he is supposed to mean, 
 
 which would not liave been liable to this ambi- 
 guity. 
 
 This difficulty has sometimes led me to sus- 
 pect, that the passage may possibly, after all, 
 
 admit 
 
 ! See 11. T. 183. 
 
 U 
 
 « 
 
 a 
 
 €C 
 
 iC 
 
 u 
 
 NOTES. 205 
 
 admit of a different sense ; and that Aristotle 
 may have meant only to say this : — " The Poet 
 should work himself, as far as may be, into tlie 
 passion he is to represent, by even assuming 
 " the countenance, and the gestures, which are 
 ** its natural expressions. For they, of course, 
 have most probability and truth in their imi- 
 tation, who actually feel, in some degree, the 
 passion: and no one expresses agitation of 
 mind (;^«jw.aiv£») so naturally, (aX»i9i^£i?TaT«,) as 
 " he who is really agitated, (x^t/AaC^^i^fv^,) or 
 " expresses anger (x^Xt-nrxi^ii) so naturally, as he 
 ** who is really angry (ofy»^o|Uf»^.)" — Thus, the 
 forms, ;)^£*/Aatk6t, ^xXtfrxivn, will retain their neuter 
 signification, referring to the Poet's expression of 
 the passion in his composition ; as, p^n/Aa^o/Ltik®*, ' 
 and efyifo/x£v^, refer to the internal feeling of 
 the passion, which he has excited in his own mind. 
 X(tfAoc^i(r9on — to be violently agitated in mind : — 
 XufAxmiv — to express that agitation by words or 
 actions^: ©^yt^to-Sar — to be angry: ;p^«x«r«tv£»v — 
 to express that anger by words or actions. — It 
 will, perhaps, be objected, that ;^«Xfir«iv£iv, used 
 as a verb neuter, appears to be synonymous with 
 •^yt^i(r9ai. That it may be often so, I will not 
 take 
 
 ** This verb seenfis to be rare. I neither recollect, nor 
 can, at present, find, any other instance of it, than in the 
 9th Pastoral of Theocritus, v. 20, where it is us?d im- 
 personally: ;)c«/iam?vT©-, i.e. when it is winter, Aa, 
 instance, which, as far as it goes, is in favour of the sense 
 I would give to the word here. 
 
 ^j 
 
 pa 
 
 El 
 
 9- 
 
^o6 NOTES.- 
 
 take upon me to deny : but numerous instances 
 
 waKf ceptmtiy be jM^tioced, where it is not so — 
 
 where it clearly denotes something beyonlr te^ 
 
 mere internal passion. In this line of Homer, for 
 
 example; 
 
 Zeu^, otb Sfi ^ av^KTo-i KOTE2ZAMENOE 
 
 XAAEOH/NH/. //. n. 386. 
 
 — " iratus sctciat f — where the anger of Jupiter 
 
 is exj)ressed by xorivrafMyO*; but y^akiv1^y^ goes 
 
 on to the external demonstration of it, on Xo^^- 
 
 So, too, Od. T. V. 83. 
 
 Mri TTcog to* Sec'TTOivct zoTBCO'ufjLBVTi XAAEIIH*- 
 
 NH< 
 
 — which, in vulgar* language, would be fairly ren- 
 dered, ** lest your mistress should be angry, and 
 ** scoldJ^ 
 
 Thus, again, II. H. 256, of Jupiter : 
 - - - J^' l7rey^oiJLBv&^ XAAEIIAINE 
 PinTAZXlN KATA AflMA 0EOTZ. — 
 
 In the very passage adduced to exemplify the 
 transitive use of this verb, //. T. 1 83, it appears 
 to have the same sense : for the words, on tic 
 w^oT$^&» p^aAiwiivn, allude to Agamemnon's own 
 words, //. B. 378. 
 
 Kcci ycc^ lyeav A%<X6t;5 tb iJiMX^(J'8'oc[juff , Imicoc xa^ifig, 
 
 APTihm EDEEIIIN lyu $' HPXON XAAE- 
 
 nAINXlN. 
 
 XxXiTTonmv is here, I think, put as synonymous 
 
 with /x<*;^i(r9«i fTHo-o-jy. Agamemnon confesses, 
 
 that 
 
 NOTES. 207 
 
 that he himself gave the first verbal provocation ; 
 alluding, I think, to his speech, v. 131, where he 
 first hints at the seizure of Briseis. For thouah 
 Achilles speaks, indeed, somewhat roughly to the 
 king in the preceding speech, yet his wrath cannot 
 properly be said to commence before the subse- 
 quent speech, il /not, ivxihrn, &c. v. 149. 
 
 I shall add only an instance or two more. — In 
 the first book of Plato's Repub, Socrates says to 
 Thrasymachus, — €X£«(r9a« *i^ i»/Lta? iroXv [xxXXou iJx®* 
 
 in TTH, uVo ifxw Twv hmuvy i XAAEIIAINEKs^Ar — • 
 
 I. e. " we deserve rather to be pitied by you wise 
 " men, than to be scolded at." — In the passage 
 quoted note 22, p. 283, vol. i. Plato says of a 
 
 dog, — o¥ fAiy tiy \h dymrx, XAAEnAINEI* — ly $' 
 my yyu^ifAoy^ ASIIAZETAI; ^^ fawHs on those he 
 " knows, and barks at strangers." In the Memo- 
 TMbilia of Xenophon, II. 2, we have — Aio-Jo^fj/®* 
 
 h TTOTB AxfJLTF^OX^tX, TOk ZJ-^tfT^VTOCTOy ViOy IXVTB, WPO^ 
 
 rnyfAnrf^oL XAAEHAINONTA : i.e. '' when he had 
 " heard him speaking angrily to his mother." 
 
 It seems, then, that the passage will fairly admit 
 of the meaning I have proposed. And whether 
 that meaning would not be more to Aristotle's 
 purpose, than the other; I willingly submit to tlie 
 reader's consideration. For zvhy recommend it 
 to the Poet to help his imagination by action, 
 when he composes ? — plainly, for the sake of the 
 effect of this method upon his poetry; that his 
 expression of passion may have more of truth and 
 
 nature ; 
 
 nj 
 
 ¥^ 
 
 ill 
 
 11 
 
^1 
 
 !io8 NOTES. 
 
 nature; that bis diameters may ;^ttjLtaiv#f>, or 
 ^(xhtvamiv, dktihvuTATa *. Now it seeins more 
 consonant to this purpose, that the words which 
 follow as the reason of the advice, should refer 
 to this immediate effect upon the Poet's work, 
 which is the object of the advice, than to the 
 more remote and implied effect of the work upon 
 the spectator. It seems, indeed, to have been 
 this reference to the audience, in the usual way 
 of understanding the passage, that led Madius 
 into the mistake of supposing this precept intended, 
 not for the Poet, but for the Player. 
 
 Such are my objections to the sense hitherto 
 given to this passage, and my reasons for think- 
 ing, that its meaning may have been mistaken. 
 I abandon them, without reserve, to the judgment 
 of the learned reader : in my own, it is impossible 
 lor me to confide, when I reflect, that the whole 
 band of commentators, who have preceded me, 
 have acquiesced, without doubt or scruple, in 
 that interpretation which to me appears so unsa- 
 tisfactory. 
 « I II II I II I ^— ^— I- ■ III 
 
 * It is somewhat in favour of this interpretation, that 
 it gives the adverb, ax^QivuTaraf its most natural and 
 obvious construction, with the verbs, x«A*«'^* ^md ;c«^" 
 woivit. As the passage is commonly understood^ it must 
 be joined with the participles. 
 
 K O T E 8, 
 
 %o^ 
 
 NOTE 139. 
 
 P. 15a. Great natural quickness of 
 
 PARTS - - •. 
 
 Eu^u8f i 7rot»jT«x?) Iriv - - -. EugjuVa — OHTTHX. 
 
 Hesychius. See also Casaub. upon Athenaeus, 
 P- 454> and Suidas, mc. Eu^ua, and Eui^JuTa, where 
 the passage he quotes from Alex. Aphrod. shews 
 what was the common idea of liovlx, thoucrh its 
 fropriety is disputed. The il^\)iiq were gent-ally 
 
 understood to be ot px^iuig — [Aapiocvovrig, eixoiug is 
 i^oyrii TT^og irxvrx rot, /xaOrj^ara, &C. The pas- 
 sage seems to allude to EtJuc. Nicom. IIL 5. 
 p. 113. ed. TVilk 
 
 No epithet can be more exactly ^adapted to tlie 
 f u^uTif, than that of £uVAar(&', which follows ; a 
 man of quick, mimetic parts, who can tur?i him- 
 self , as we say, to every thing with equal facility, 
 and mould himself, without effort, to every form. 
 But the word had considerable latitude, and would 
 have been applied by the antients, to the genius 
 of a Shakspeare, the talents of a Foote *, or the 
 docility of a school-boy ^ 
 
 * Philip of Macedon would have caressed such a man 
 as Foote. He delighted, we are told, avQ^wjroi; T0I2 
 ET^TESI Kc^iitvoig, KM TA FEAOIA AErOTII KAI 
 nOIOTSr. ^Mf«. 260. 
 
 ^ Uacfa Ttuv ET^TXIN, says Isocrates, speaking of scho- 
 lars, hi fxeyav hofx^amv tuakv, pri IIOAAA MAN0A' . 
 NOTE I* TTo^a Je T«v 'A4>TX2N, brt 'jtoTO^ xoTf^i wcK^c^H^i, 
 —An admirable inscription for a school door. 
 
 VO L. II. p 
 
 m 
 
 : il 
 
 \ 
 
SIO 
 
 .NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 140. 
 
 P, 152. Or, an enthusiasm allied to 
 
 MADNESS . 
 
 'H [xxviKu. — My translation here will, I fear, he 
 thought too paraphrastical. But this is one among 
 many passages, that have occurred, where I have 
 found it impossible to give, at the same time, 
 word for word, and idea for idea. This, indeed, 
 is the great misfortune of translation ; for what 
 Mr. Harris has observed is too true, — that " much 
 " of the force of the original will necessarily be 
 " lost in the translation, where single words io 
 " one language cannot be found corresponding 
 " to single words in the other*." 
 
 The word, f^xvix^, wanted no explanation to 
 Greek readers, to whom, from the writings of 
 Plato, in particular, it was familiar to consider 
 enthusiasm of every kind, as a species oimadness\ 
 They would understand no more, from Aristotle's 
 expression, than that comparative insanity which 
 Cicero has so exactly expressed : — Poctam bonum 
 
 *' neminem sine i7iJlammatione animorum 
 
 " existere 
 
 • Phllos. Arrang, p. 2il, note, 
 
 ^ Sec, particularly, the Ph^drus, p. 244, 245, ed, Serr. 
 ' — Aristotle himself, tcx), in his Rhetoric, says— -"ENQEON 
 ya^ rt 'TToirKTig, III. 7. ed, Duval. — I cannot help just re- 
 minding the reader of the admirable humour with which 
 Horace ridicules the practical abuse of this idea, in his 
 Art of Poetry, v. 295 — 304. 
 
 NOTES. 2ir 
 
 ^' existere posse, et sine quodam afflatu quasi 
 ** furoris*." — But what can a mere modern reader 
 tliink, when he is told, in Dacier's translation, 
 that, to succeed in Poetry, " il faut avoir un genie 
 *' excellent, ou etre furij^ux?" 
 
 Nor could I, without danger of confounding 
 the philosopher's distinction, have rendered £u>ui« 
 by the single word genius ; which, as we usually 
 apply it to the fine arts, implies much of that very 
 warmth, and illusive power, of imagination, that 
 ** infiammatio animorum'' which Aristotle meant 
 to express by the other word, /xawxoy. 
 
 I must not omit, that this whole passage re* 
 ceives considerable illustration from another, in 
 the ProblemSy pointed out by Mr. Winstanley in 
 his edition, p. 292**. 
 
 If Aristotle had given any instance of the 
 ixnnx^ among the Tragic Poets, it would, in all 
 probabihty, have been iEschylus. It is pleasant 
 to observe the appearance which the wild invention 
 and ferocious sublimity of his Prometheus, had 
 to the eye of a French critic, of admirable good 
 sense, indeed, but, xot^ha, y^Kpei^T®^. " Je crois,** 
 says Fontenelle, " qu' Eschile etoit une ma- 
 " NiERE DE. FOU, qui avoit rimagination tres- 
 
 (( 
 
 Vive, 
 
 • De Or. II. 46. 
 
 ^ P. 817. B. ed. DuvaL 'Otroig h Ucv/bcc — to hirour]^ C, 
 The reading, Urarut^^^ instead of ileranx^, if it stood 
 in need of any confirmation, would be confirmed by this 
 •ingle passage beyond all doubt. 
 
 P 2 
 
 ^i 
 
tit NOTES, 
 
 ^' vive, et pas trop regime*." He would probably 
 have said much the same of Shakspeare. The 
 charge certainly cannot be retorted upon the French 
 Tragic writers. It is related of the unfortunate 
 Nat Lee, that, when he was in Bedlam, somAody 
 had the inhumanity to tell him, it was a very easy 
 thing to write like a madman. *' No," replied 
 the Poet, '* it is not an easy thing to write like a 
 " madman ; but it is a very easy thing to write 
 *' like a fool." I believe these two things are 
 almost equally difficult to our ingenious neigh- 
 bours. It would be hard to detect Racine writing 
 like a fool. But I confess I never read him 
 without wishing he had written a little more like a 
 madman. We must allow him much merit; — 
 but he never " rolled' his eye" in the *^ Jine 
 phremy'' of the Poet; he knew little of "the 
 tricks*' of " strong imagination!^ The character 
 given of him by Lord Kaims appears to me per- 
 fectly exact and just; that *' he is always sensible, 
 " generally correct, never falls low, maintains a 
 *^ moderate degree of dignity without reaching the 
 sublime, paints delicately tlie tender passions, 
 but is a stranger to the genuine language of en- 
 " thusiastic or fervid passion ^" 
 
 I have 
 
 • Tome ix. p. 415. — '* II me semble," says this agree- 
 able writer, " qu'il ne faudroit donner dans le sublime, 
 '* qu* a son cdrps defendant.** [Preface to his Hist, dis 
 Oracles.'] No wonder then, that he could not relish 
 ^schylus. * E/ements of Crit, vol. i. p. ^2i$. 
 
 cc 
 
 ic 
 
 NOTES. 213 
 
 I have often wondered, what it was that could 
 attach Mr. Gray so strongly to a Poet whose ge-» 
 nius was so little analogous to his own *. I must 
 confess I cannot, even in the dramatic fragment 
 given us by Mr. Mason, discover any other resem- 
 blance to Racine, than in the length of the 
 speeches. Its fault, indeed, is Racine's; its 
 beauties are, surely, of a higher order. What 
 pity, that a work of genius, should have been 
 smothered in its birth, by a little cold and trifling 
 criticism ! — We have, indeed, been told, that ** it 
 " was certairily no loss to the English stage, that 
 « Agrippina was never finished :" but we have been 
 told it by the same critic who has pronounced, 
 also, that the Bard of Gray, only " endeavours 
 •* at sublimity ;" who saw in the juvenile Poemi 
 of Miltori "- no promise of Paradise Lost;" and 
 who has admitted, with seeming complacence^ 
 into the catalogue of English Poets, such names 
 $is Blackmore, Yaldeny and Pomjret — 
 
 ^^ Alcandrumque Haliumqu^ Noemonaquc 
 Prytanimque !" — 
 
 NOTE 141' 
 
 P. 152. When the Poet invents a sub- 
 ject . 
 
 Here is a confusion of various readings, none 
 of them, I think, free from suspicion. How the 
 
 - sense 
 
 ■ ■ ■ I III , f I , , ■ i» 
 
 « See Letter xvi. Sect. 4. of the Memoirs of Mr. Graj. 
 
 P3 
 
214 NOTES, 
 
 sense given to the passage by Victorius, and almost 
 all the commentators, is fairly to be obtained 
 from any of tliem, I confess, I never could see. 
 1 follow the common, and, ivf my opinion, the least 
 
 suspicious, reading — t«j Tf*Aey8jT»? 7rf7rot»)/Afk«f — '. 
 
 And I understand Aristotle to speak of subjects, 
 either wholly invented by the Poet, like the AvS^ 
 of Agatho, or, having only some very slight and 
 general foundation in history or tradition. — 
 AoyO* — the general stm^y, ov argument. — (Aoy^* — 
 *H TOT APAMATOX TnoeESIX. Hesychius.)— 
 KAI aCroy iromifrix, — because, I Suppose, such drr- 
 guments were commonly drawn up by others, 
 probably in the Ai^ao-xaXta*, and, perhaps, pre- 
 fixed to the copies of the play. But here, Aris- 
 totle — " poetam etiam ipsum hoc facere jubet ; 
 f* quod novum erat, et inusitatum :" — as the 
 force of KAI ATTON seems rightly explained by 
 Victorius. 
 
 NOTE 142. 
 
 P. 153. When he has given names to 
 
 HIS CHARACTERS . • 
 
 This seems to shew plainly, that by Xoyaq 
 'TmroififAtysg the critic means only such subjects as 
 were of the Poet's own invention *. For he says — 
 J frsf , 
 
 * Tag AE xoy8i, which, according to Victorius has 
 MS. authority, would, perhaps, be preferable. 
 
 • As, 'TTE'TretTifjLivov ovofjuxy cap. xxi. *' a woni of the, Poet*s 
 " invention" — veTroinfAiva ffy](M£ia — 'KiTCOVf^titvat avayvv^ttrtig, 
 
 cap. xvi» 
 
 N . O T E S. , 21^: 
 
 fa'st, form a general sketch of your fable ; then, 
 give names to your characters. This manifestly 
 implies, tliat the names were not already fixed by 
 history or tradition, but were at the Poet's choice. 
 To avoid this difficulty, the Abb6 Batteux trans- 
 lates, " on remet les noms ^'' But this, certainly, 
 is not what Aristotle says; and it is too trifling, 
 surely, to be what he means. If the names are 
 given by the particular history which the Poet 
 follows, what purpose will it answer to omit them 
 in his plan ? — They will certainly be in his muid ; 
 they may as well be upon his paper. In sliort, thei. 
 method here recommended by Aristotle seems per- 
 fectly absurd and nugatory, upon any other sup- 
 position than that of a story, either wholly invented 
 by the Poet, or, of which, at least, he owes only 
 some slight hint to fact, and real life. In tliis 
 case, and in this only, it is, that the subject first 
 presents itself to the Poet's mind in a general and 
 abstracted view, which he afterwards circum- 
 stantiates by time, place, and names, and fills up 
 by the detail of particular episodes and scenes. 
 
 That this is the meaning, will appear, I think, 
 still more clearly fi-om the 9th chapter, with which 
 tliis passage should be compared. What is here 
 
 , said 
 
 cap. XV i. and, nfjroiiyjLeva ovofjutra, cap. ix. " names invented 
 '♦ by the Poet." 
 
 ^ And, see his note, N** 3, upon chap, xvi.— It is the 
 explanation of Beni : — " jam nomina imponi jubet, noa 
 *' tam ilia fingendo, <^uani reddendo^* 
 
 P4 
 
ar6 ]* T E 1 
 
 said of the method to be puriiu^d by Trdgid 
 Poets, answers exactly to what id there said of the 
 
 Coinic : trvrrKravrs^ yot^ rot fAvioy hot, rwy fixoro^v, 
 •OTTXl TA TTXONTA 'ONOM ATA EniTieEASI;— 
 with this difference, indeed, that the Comic writer 
 may give whatever names he pleases ; while the 
 Tragic generally adopts historical names, even 
 when his subject is feigned. Yet Aristotle, there, 
 riot only allows that Tragedy, as well as Comedy, 
 may be all invention, both plot and names, but 
 even says, that it would be " ridiculous' to think 
 otherwise : yiXom rar^ ^nniu. And he immediately 
 adds, that it is the invention or making of his 
 fable, (not of his verse only,) that truly constitutes 
 the Poet \ 
 
 NOTE 143. 
 
 P- 155- That the Episodes belong pro- 
 perly TO THE subject . 
 
 See NOTE 37 *. — Here are two instances given 
 by Aristotle of what he means by iVno-ot^ta in dra- 
 matic Poetry. They confirm, I think, what was 
 said in that note. That Orestes should be taken, 
 by some means or other, and should, by some 
 means or other, be saved, were essential parts of 
 the Poet's fable. These were not episodes, in 
 Aristotle's view ; for he expressly includes them 
 both in that general sketch of the story, which is 
 previous to the intertexture of the episodes :— lAfloji^ 
 
 ! Cap. ix.— Transl. Part II. Sect, 6. ♦ In vol* i. 
 
 NOTES. 217 
 
 i$ xai AH<E)0EIi: — and, Utim^iv Ji h* SHTHPIA. 
 The episodes are the circumstances by which the 
 Poet chose to effect this capture, and this escape ; 
 i. e. the madness of Orestes, and the ablution of 
 the statue ; or rather, thgse facts drawn out into 
 some particularity of descriptive narration, so as 
 to form distinct, though subordinate, parts of the 
 action ; for this, perhaps, made a part of Aris^ 
 totle's idea of tTrtttroitov, — And the examples here 
 given seem to confiim this. See the Iphig. in 
 Tauris, v. 260, to 340. — v. 1153, &c. — And, 
 particularly, the narration of the ayytX®*, 
 v. 1327, &c. 
 
 From the very observation, that these episodes 
 should be properly related to the subject *, and from 
 what he adds of the difference of dramatic and 
 epic episodes in ^omt oi length, it clearly appears, 
 that, as I observed in the note referred to, the word 
 is not applied to Tragedy in a different sen^e from 
 that in which it is applied to the Epic Poem. 
 
 note 144. 
 
 P- 153- But in the Epic they are the 
 means of drawing out the Poem to its 
 proper length. 
 
 *H S* iTTOiroiiot Tare*? ^yiy.Muron. — Compare cap. 
 xxiv. E^" ^^ Tff^Q<: TO £W£XT£*H(r6a*, x.T. aA. — tO, 
 
 * They could not therefore be considered by Aristotle 
 as '' parties necessaires de Taction," according to Le Bossu's 
 de6oitiony lib. ii. ch. 6* 
 
 / 
 
 ^"fi 
 
iiS 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 8If 
 
 NOTE 145. 
 
 P' '53- The general story of the 
 Odyssey— LIES ix a small compass. 
 
 Mix^(^, (instead of f^c?x^(^,) has now the sup^ 
 port of a manuscript. See, ed. Ox. 1780, witlj 
 the learned editor of which I perfectly agree, 
 Aoy^ is plainly used here in the same sense as 
 before, for the general argument, or summary, of 
 tfie Poem : whereas, if we read /*ax^<^, it can 
 mean only the entire story at full length, with all 
 its episodes. Farther ; the epitome of the Odys^ 
 sey which follows, is evidently the exemplification 
 of th^ preceding assertion, that the story of the 
 Odyssey, stripped of its episodes, is very short. 
 
 Homer himself has given us a still more general 
 ouUine of the Poem in two lines and a half ,•— 
 cvvoi^iv iD-«(ri,f TUf 0^u(r(r«fl!f?, as the scholiast has ob- 
 served upon it ; 
 
 Oiyy, X.OCKX wo\>.oc waQovr, oXetruvr awo wav- 
 
 rag BTottoag, 
 Ayvc^g-ov vuvTBO-oriif, Utnogea evtavrcoj 
 OncotS* IXiva-Ea-Qoct. qj^ g ^^. 
 
 where, oAio-avr' awo isrixvTxq Iratpiif, is equivalent 
 to Aristotle s i^oyn oVt^. 
 
 NOTE 146. 
 
 P- 154" Persecuted by Neptune - - -. 
 
 nAPA^TAATTOMENOT iwo t« no<rft^cuy®».— • 
 
 The same idea is thus exppessed by Virgil : 
 
 - - - nee Teucris addita Juno 
 Usquam aberit. jEn. vi. 90. 
 
 — upon which passage the reader will find an ex- 
 cellent and useful note in the best of all editions 
 of this Poet, that of Heyne. 
 
 Horace comes still nearer to the word vaj a^v* 
 
 Incontinentis nee Tityi jecur 
 Relinquit ales, nequitiae additus 
 
 CUSTOS. * Lib. 111. Ode vf. 
 
 NOTE 147. 
 
 P. 154. And making himself known to 
 
 SOME of his family . 
 
 AifOLyyta^nroi^ riv»^, airoK; Izriii^iv^ - - -. This 
 
 is all very strange, and, probably, very corrupt ; 
 as may appear, merely from the awkward and 
 cacophonous repetition of the pronoun— ATTOr 
 dpiKvurai - - - ATTOir iViiifAEy^, ATTOS /ac» 
 
 And what is, dy»yvu^i(rot; riyag ? — Certainly, not 
 what one expects. Ulysses, we know, was dis- 
 covered by the nurse, and discovered himself to 
 Eumaeus, and the herdsman, and to Telemachus; 
 
 but 
 
 jl'l 
 
If! 
 
 110 NOTE «• 
 
 but I do not recollect that he discovers any one. 
 Castelvetro saw this ; and he says, that *^ oIkuujv is 
 " to be understood ; and that the signification of 
 " the word dvatyva^io-Kg here must be observed, 
 " which is, not that Ulysses discaverxd diuy of his 
 " friends, but that he inade himself knozvn to 
 " them*.'" But we have no authority, tliat I 
 know of, for this use of ai/ayywj i^f*v with an ac- 
 cusative case. Piccolomini, too, understands this 
 passage as Castelvetro did—*' datosi h coiioscerc 
 *' ad akimir And the Abb6 Batteux— '' sefait 
 " reconnoitre^'' &c. 
 
 But what, again, is, «Jtok \TsAi\f.i),^ ? — Does 
 «uTOij refer to the friends^ or to the enemies^ of 
 Ulysses ? — Is si!r»flf/x£i/(^, deceiving^ imposing on, as 
 it is rendered by Victorius, and others after him^ 
 or, as others understand it, attacking ? for it will 
 bear either. of these senses. I have preferred the 
 latter as most obvious, and, on the whole, most to 
 the purpose. EzriTiSf/xfvo* is used by Aristotle in 
 this sense, Rhet, II. 5. It generally, I believe, 
 implies an attack more or less insidicuSy such as 
 that of Ulysses upon the suitors. Tlie scholiast 
 upon Homer, Od. T. 156, observes, that a day of 
 festivity was made choice of, as furnishing a fa- 
 vourable opportunity of attacking the suitors : 
 
 ixr TO EniTieEseAi tots mnhsthpsi. 
 
 • p. 382. 
 
 NOTES, 
 
 m 
 
 NOTE 148. 
 
 p. 154. I CALL COMPLICATION, ALL THAT 
 15 BETWEEN THE BEGINNING OF THE PIECE, 
 AND THE LAST PART, &C. 
 
 Aristotle is here, as usual, very short and dry 
 in the information he bestows upon us concernin<y 
 this ^£<rK and \v(n^, I wish he had siven us a de- 
 finitiou of their meanings, \ ^stead of a mere desig- 
 nation of their places. One would suspect, on the 
 first view, from the mention of a change «c 
 tirxiy^iixy only, (in which reading all the MSS, 
 I tl)ink, agree,) from his instance^ (if it be the 
 same Tragedy as he before cited, cap, xi.) and 
 from the common acceptation of the word Xu^-ic 
 itself, that he was sjDeaking only of those Tragedies 
 in which the principal characters are extricated 
 from the difficulties they were involved in, and the 
 end is happy. And, indeed, the way in which 
 X^ Bossu, and others after him, explain this nceud 
 e^ud denouement^ leads naturally to tliis idea, and 
 seems hardly consistent with their allowing, as 
 they do, that the denouement may be either cala^ 
 mitous or prosperous*. For they explain tb« 
 mead, or <^£(rif, by " obstacles h vaincre^'' — 
 " efforts contraires — i. e. aux efforts du heros 
 ** pour retention deson dessein '." — " Les obstacles 
 " present^s s app^llent noeuds, et la maniere dont 
 
 u 
 
 on 
 
 WW 9* P ■■ l> » " ■ 
 
 • Le Bossu, Traire du Poeme, Ep. II. 16. 
 
 * Batteux*s note on this passage. ' Lg Bossu, II. 13. 
 
 .■*j 
 
 1^' 
 
 ¥\ 
 
 Ml 
 
M 
 
 t2t NOTES. 
 
 " on ks force, se nomme, denomment^r — This 
 will do very well for iEneas, or Ulysses, ^^ut 
 when Oedipus finds himself guilty of parricide 
 and incest, and, from a state of regal dignity aricl 
 happiness, becomes a wretched, blind, and banished 
 vagabond — this is but a strange way of surmount- 
 ing obstacles. 
 
 The truth is, that the obstacles of the ^ktk, or 
 the knot, are those which are presented to the 
 mind of the spectator ; the difficulty overcome is 
 that of seei7ig how the piece will terminate. And 
 thus, indeed, the Abb^ Batteux more accurately 
 expresses himself elsewhere : — " Le nceud dans le 
 Cinna est, de sfoooir si Cinna tuera Auguste^' &c **. 
 The Auo-ic is, to tlie spectator, the solution of the 
 problem, " How will all this end ?" And we may 
 add, the more difficult the problem, the greater the 
 pleasure of the solution. 
 
 It may be objected, that this is applicable only 
 to those Tragedies, the subjects of which are totally 
 unknown to the spectator ; and it may be asked, 
 " W4iere is the problem to be solved, in those 
 " dramas, which we have repeatedly seen and 
 " read, and of which we are perfectly acquainted 
 . '• with 
 
 ^ Batteux, Principes de la Lit. tome ii. p. 226. 
 
 • Princip. dc la Lit. tome iii. p. 51. And so, too, 
 Le Bossu, where he says of the nceud^ that it lasts 
 *' autant de temps que V esprit du hcteur est suspendu sur 
 •* revenement dc ces efforts coutraires," &c. ch, xiik 
 Dacier, too, talks in the same equivocal language. Sec 
 his notes, i, 2^ and 3, 
 
 a 
 
 4i 
 
 ii 
 
 il 
 
 ki 
 
 ii 
 
 it 
 
 NOTE S; ^23 
 
 " with the catastrophe, and every incident that 
 *' leads to it ? ** To this I can only answer, thai 
 it is a fact, and certainly a curious fact, that it 
 makes little difference, or none at all, in the sym- 
 pathetic interest which a spectator feels during the 
 course of the action. w4iether he knows, or does 
 not know, beforehand, how the piece will end. 
 Quelque prevenu que Ton soit de la maniere 
 dorit tout va se r6soudre> la marche de ruction 
 en Scarte la reminiscence : V impression de cc que 
 Con wit empeche de rtflkhir h ce que Von sfait ; 
 et c est par ce prestige que les spectateurs qui 
 se laissent toucher, pleurent vingt fois au mSme 
 spectacle."— [Marmontel, Poet. Franc/u. 220.] 
 The term Auo-k, therefore, is as applicable to the 
 calamitous catastrophe of the Oedipus, as to the 
 satisfactory conclusion of the Iphigenia in Tauris. 
 For Aristotle expressly gives these parts, as parts 
 of ecery Tragedy, Er» $1 HASHS rfetyu>hx;, t# 
 
 NOTE 149. 
 
 P- 154- The Lynceus of Theodectes — . 
 
 Castelvetro has guessed, with some ingenuity, 
 the subject and plot of this Tragedy, from Hyginus, 
 Fab. 45. See Goulston's supplemental version, 
 which is taken from him. It seems, however, very 
 improbable, that a Tragedy should be denominated 
 from a person who had no other share in tlie. 
 nction, than that it passed under his roof 
 
 Dacier 
 
144 NOTE S. 
 
 Dacier understands this to be the Lynccun 
 mentioned before, cap. xi. All I see is, that his 
 application of the word, ir«i^iov, to Li/na'us the 
 husband oi Hyperaiiiestra, cannot be admitted. 
 The diminutive iraK^i^v, is, I believe, never used 
 but to signify a child. In this respect, certainly, 
 Castehetro's conjecture has greatly the advantage; 
 as it has, also, in the explanation of olngLwwi t« 
 JflwaTif, which, in Dacier, is terribly forced. Sec 
 his version. 
 
 NOTE 150. 
 
 ^'^55- There are four kinjds of Trat 
 gedt, deducibx.e from $q many paut^ 
 which have been mentioned, 
 
 It is incumbent on a commentator to state, as 
 clearly as he can, the difficulties of his author, 
 whether he be able to remove them, or not. Tb» 
 has not been done with respect to this passage, in 
 any of the comments that I have seen. 
 
 Aristotle says, T^ayw<r»a? h tlh i\(n Ttcnra^x' 
 
 rofTXMra, TAP xa* recjAt^n tAtp^Sn. '* There are four 
 species of Tragedy ; for so many also are tlie 
 parts which have been mentioned." This is 
 saying, as expressly as words can say it, that t\\Q 
 four different species of Tragedy correspond to, 
 and, of course, arise from, four diftbrent parls 
 already meuticMied. Now what are those part3? 
 Four parts of guantitj/ have indeed been men- 
 tioned ; (cap. xii.) but these are quite out of the 
 ? question. 
 
 <( 
 
 €i 
 
 NOTES. 225 
 
 question. If we have recourse to what are called 
 the parts of quality \ these are si:c ; and if, with 
 Dacier, we reduce them to/our, by throwing out 
 the decoration and the music^ the four that remain, 
 i. e. fable, manners, sentiments, and diction, will 
 furnish out, among them, only one of the species of 
 Tragedy enumerated— that which is denominated 
 iJOiHu. These, then, cannot be the four parts 
 pointed at as the foundation of the four species. 
 There remain only the parts which Aristotle calls 
 fAff »i MT0or : the parts, not of Tragedy, but of 
 07W of the essential parts of Tragedy— the Fable. 
 These he enumerated in the 1 ith chapter ^^ and 
 to these, the commentators, in general, are ac^reed 
 in understanding Aristotle to allude. 
 
 But the difficulty here is, that he refers to four 
 
 parts mentioned, and here are only three i. e. 
 
 ^ff <7rm<a, dvxyyta^iinq, (which he expressly calls $\jo 
 l^Ad ixt^r^,) and, thirdly, Tra^^r TPITON $t, 
 ^afli^. — There is no njention of HJ^*, to furnish 
 his third species, the moral Tragedy ; nor, indeed, 
 was it, by any means, to be expected there, 
 where he is professedly enumerating the parts of 
 the Fable. n$cU, in the sense in which the 
 word is there used \ may, unquestionably, be 
 
 considered 
 
 • Cap. vi. Transl. Part II. Sect. 2. 
 
 ^ Transl. Part II. Sect. 9, at the end. 
 
 * lia^^y in its usual sense, o^ passion, is a part, not of 
 the ^^, but of the ^laxoia. (See cap. xix. Transl. 
 
 VOL. II. Q p^^^ 
 
 Mi 
 

 116 NOTES. 
 
 considered as parts of the Fabk ; iin, or manners, 
 cannot. 
 
 The Abbe Batteux thinks the ethic species n 
 tacitly impHed, as the opposite, or negative, of the 
 pathetic. The three parts of the fable, jn^iTrfrux, 
 dvotyvupicig^ x«9^, give, directly^ only two species 
 of Tragedy ; the two first constituting, (one, or 
 both of them,) the complicated, (frifrXtyixEynvj) and 
 the third, the pathetic, or disastrous, Tragedy. The 
 two other species are only the negatives of these. 
 If the fable is without revolution or discovery \ 
 the Tragedy is simple, as opposed to complicated; 
 if, without TTxifi, or disasters, it is iiSixn, as opposed 
 to 7ra9>jT*x«. — Such is the explanation of this inge- 
 nious writer * ; which seems to be much favoured 
 by the manner in which these species are arranged 
 afterwards, when applied to Epic Poetry in 
 cap. xxiv. ; where we have— if yx^ 'AHAHN if 
 HEnAErMENHN,— ij H0IKHN i RAeHTIKHN, hi 
 tlvxr, and, also, by the frequent opposition of irae©* 
 and rA^y vecinTixoy and ijSixov, in anticnt writers ^ — 
 
 It 
 
 Part II. Sect. 22.) But, in the sense defined cap, xi. 
 (Transl. Part II. Sect. 9.) 11 is an action— UFASil 
 ^Sa^Tifcn, &c. and, therefore, part of the plot, or (ruv^gaii 
 n^ocYfjiarcav, as much as the revolution, and discovery. 
 
 - - - ANET TTi^tTTtrna; ii jtvayva^ia-fxH, as he say'S 
 above, in defining the simple fable. Cup. x. 
 
 * See his note ; and his Principes de la Lit. tome iii. p, S4. 
 ^ See, for instance, Rhet, III. 17. Quintil. VI. a. 
 P* 29^> V^i ^^* ^'^'» ^^- — I am aware, indeed, that in 
 
 thi* 
 
 NOTE S. 22y 
 
 It may, indeed, be objected, that this cannot be 
 reconciled to Aristotle's words — Too-aura yx^ xat 
 T« ^ffu 'EAEX0H; which seem to refer clearly to 
 four parts that had been all expressly mentioned. 
 But, if we should suppose Aristotle here to con- 
 sider that as said, which was only implied, and as 
 explained, which was only hinted, we should, 
 perhaps, take no liberty that is not warranted by 
 the magisterial and elliptic brevity of his general 
 «_]% ^^y'^' ^"^ ^^^" l^y similar instances in his writings ^ 
 ^ut even this will not entirely remove the difficulty, 
 while, by the parts alluded to, we understand 
 Aristotle to mean only the juf^n ^uSa of the itth 
 chapter : because iiS^, as I before observed, could 
 be neither mentioned, nor implied, as a part of 
 the fable. Perhaps, therefore, he meant to use 
 the word ^rju in a general sense, as he clearly 
 does use it, cap. xxiv. xpti ra, MEPH, ll^oo fxiX. xa« 
 
 i^iuq, ravTx' xon TAP Trtpiyrsruuv Sii, x.r.otX. — where 
 
 the xai TAP shews, that the parts he had just 
 
 mentioned 
 
 this opposition, ttoQ^ is not taken in th? dramatic sense, 
 of blood-shed, disasters, &c. but in the usual sense of 
 passion. But as this sense is, in fact, involved in the for* 
 mer, (for we can scarce conceive a disastrous, or, as we 
 call it, a deep, Tragedy, that is not also highly pat/ietic, or 
 passionate,) this is not, perhaps, any material objection. 
 
 * His references are frequendy obscure, or ambiguous. 
 So, the xaQxTTs^ eI^m, cap. xi. see note 83. And the, 
 ua-TTs^ fl^vrai, cap.xv, see note 1 10. — An embarrassment 
 of enumeration somewhat similar to that of this passage 
 has occurred in cap. xiv. See note 105. 
 
 Q 2 
 
 f 
 
ai8 Tf O; T E S. 
 
 mentioned included both the six constituent parts 
 of Tragedy, and the ikuQo^ parts of the fable which 
 he enumerates. If we understand fAi^n in this 
 way, the meaning will only be, that so many dif- 
 ferent parts, (of one kind or other,) have been 
 mentioned (Ia^x®*!,) from which these species may 
 Be deduced : these are, the three (xi^n /xu9a, which 
 burnish the complicated^ tiie simple^ and the pathetic^ 
 species ; and the second of the essential parts of 
 Tragedy, rS©^, which, though indeed it be a part 
 oi every Tragedy, admits, according to Aristotle's 
 own account, of more or less ^, and, when predo- 
 minant, may be characteristic of another species, 
 the ethic, or moral Tragedy, naturally enough op- 
 posed to the pathetic. 
 
 I, confess I see no other possible consistent 
 sense that can be given to this passage, as we 
 now read it : {or four parts are here mentioned ; 
 Siud four parts cannot be made out, if we confine 
 ourselves to the fxt^n MY80T in cap, xi. 
 
 Dacier seems to have perceived this ; and his 
 explanation agrees so far with mine, that he, also, 
 makes " la peripetie, la reconnoisance, la passion, 
 " et ks moeurs^' the four parts that produce the 
 four sorts of Tragedy. But when, in order to 
 reduce the (^evcn parts, (i. e. fable, manners, dic- 
 tion, sentiments, discovery, revolution, disasters,) 
 to \\\e four which he wants, he rejects tlnee, 
 i. e. fable^i diction, and sentiments, because they 
 
 NOTE S. 22^ 
 
 are common to all Tragedy, he makes a distinction 
 for which there seems to be no foundation ; the 
 manmrs being equally included by Aristotle among 
 those parts which are expressly IIASHX rpaywc^jaf 
 ^ff»j'. Cut, though all these parts necessarily 
 belong, in some degree or other, to every Trai^edy, 
 any one of them may be so predominant, as to 
 characterize a Tragedy, and give it, if we please, 
 a specific denomination. Thus* there may be, and 
 there is, such a species as the sentimental Trajredy, 
 of which, in the critic s language, to hxay u* A^a- 
 voia : — another, of which the language may be the 
 most striking character — Ji? to oXqv ?I Af Jk \ ; and 
 he himself speaks of a sort of Tragedy that might 
 very well be denominated, v OTTTixn \ of which 
 examples are not wanting on the modern stage. 
 The Italian opera is a Tragedy, ^V to oAov Vtv « 
 MfXoTToua. — But Aristotle's business was not to 
 enumerate all the different species which want of 
 taste or judgment might produce, but those only 
 which were considered as legitimate, and such as 
 sound criticism would approve. Hence, he has 
 recourse, for the formation of the four regular 
 
 and 
 
 are 
 
 Cap. vi. — avtu h hOotv yzvoiT av (sc. T^ayx^ta) ^c. 
 
 ^ Cap. vi. 
 
 ^ Of the first, Air. Harris gives Measure for Measure 
 as an instance; of the last, Cato. — PhiloL Iriq, p. i6i. — 
 But Cato seems rather a compound of the two species. 
 Dr. Johnson, in his life of Addison, ha§ more justly cha- 
 racterized it by — "^st sentiments in elegant language,^* 
 
 ^ See cap, xiv, Transl. Part 11. Sect. 13, 
 
 Q 3 - 
 
 ^i\ 
 
230 NOTES. 
 
 and authorised species, only to the two Jirst and 
 most important of the six constituent parts of 
 Tragedy— the fable, and the manners. 
 
 But after all, when we have made the best we 
 can of the text in this passage, we must allow, 
 I believe, that it is more for the credit of Aristotle 
 to suppose it faulty. And that it is so, I am the 
 rather inclined to think, as one difficulty still re- 
 mains. The expression — " there are four sorts 
 " of Tragedy ; for ^o many parts have been 
 " mentioned" — seems clearly to imply, not 
 merely, that those four softs are deducible, in 
 some way or other, from those parts, but, as I at 
 first observed, that they, respectively, arise from 
 those parts, each 'of which produces its corres- 
 pondent species of Tragedy. But this, as we have 
 seen, is by no means the case. Of the four parts, 
 only ^aO®*, and tjS®*, produce directly their cor- 
 respondent species, tlie ^«8t,T»xii, and the i?9ixn. 
 The other two parts, ^£^*ir£Ti»a, and avayvw^ i<rif, 
 denominate one species from their presence, (the 
 vnrXiy^^iyn,) and another, (the iirXn^ from their 
 absence. 
 
 NOTE 151. 
 
 P. 155. Another, the moral . 
 
 H9»xjj.— " Videant studiosi hujus libri, an intel- 
 " ligi debeant, et tanquam diro xoiva repeti, et hie 
 ^' et infra, verba ilia quae in explicatione fabnl® 
 " implexce posuit ; mtelligo, inquam, hrec— »jV to 
 
 <c 
 
 '€4 
 
 U 
 
 U 
 
 U 
 
 u 
 
 6\ou 
 
 NOTES. • 231 
 
 «A«v Ifip : et quod pneterea utroque loco con- 
 venit, inde suniptum, [i. e. wa60* — r6(^] ut, 
 quemadmodum inquit in describend^ ilia per- 
 
 *^ plexA — r\f TO oAok ifi TTi^ivireta xoci aVayvw^io**?, — • 
 
 ita, in patheticd, — n'? to Ikov eV* irxU; et in 
 morata, »iV to tAov i^iy tIS?]/' So Yictorius ; and 
 the observation seems just and important. 
 
 By ijfiixrj, I cannot think, that the mere absence 
 of TraSi) is meant, as M. Batteux supposes*, or, as 
 Dacier and others take it, the mere moral- ten- 
 dency of the example. I understand the T(xyx^i» 
 Tiiixn to be, in tlie most obvious and usual sense 
 of the word, that kind of Trasjedv, nV to oXov kiv 
 ^6n — of which the manners are the predominant 
 part ; which seems sufficiently to imply the ab- 
 seiKe of that violent perturbation, deep distress, 
 and terrible catastrophe, which distinguish the 
 pathetic species. This obvious sense of iJJixu is 
 confirmed by Aristotle'sexemplification in cap, xxiv. 
 For there, he plainly opposes it to the TrainTtKov of 
 the Iliad, and applies it to the Odyssey; a poem 
 eminently characterized as a picture of life and 
 manners^. The word is also used, evidently, in 
 the same sense in the Rhetoric; where the two 
 species of the drama, riSixoi^, and TnxinTixop, are 
 
 mentioned, 
 
 * " La fable morale, opposee a la Pathetique, doit are 
 ** celle QU il rC y a point de sang repandu ; tejles sont le 
 *^ Cinna de Corncille, et la Berenice de Racine."— -Pr;Vi- 
 £ipes de ia Lit, iii, p. 85. 
 
 ;* See Longinus, Sect, 9, ad finem. 
 
 Q 4 ^ 
 
232 • NOTES. 
 
 mentioned, as being, each of them, accommodated 
 to action, and preferred, on that account, by the 
 players, as peculiarly favourable to the display 
 of their mimetic powers ^ Now this would not 
 be the case, if by >J9*x7j nothing more than a moral 
 lesson and a virtuous example were intended. Yet 
 this idea is by no means excluded by the otlier; 
 and Victorius seems to have rightly adjusted this 
 matter. " Animadvertendum autem Tragoediam 
 " illam vocari rmratam, quae mn solum accurath 
 *' mores exprimit, sed eos etiajti inducit probos; 
 " quod ipse significavit supr^, ubi de moribus 
 '' disseruit; primum enim pr£ecepit ut ;^^rr« >;9ti 
 " fingerentur." 
 
 If it be objected, that, the delineation of nmn- 
 ners being the peculiar province of Comedi/, this 
 account of the T^xyuha, liiixn confounds the limits " 
 of these two opposite species of the drama; we 
 may answer, that the moral, or rather niamiered 
 Tragedy, (for we seem to want a word here,) 
 though allowed by Aristotle, was certainly not that 
 which he himself considered as the best, or the 
 most Tragic': yet, that even this was sufficiently 
 distinguished from Comedy by the kind of manners 
 which it imitated. They were to be, if possible, 
 . '_ good^ 
 
 *= — ayuyiUMn ^e, fsc. Af|.j— oratorical dfction] ;, lirO' 
 x^mKcorarr,' raimjg h ho £i3»,- h fjnv ya^, HGIKH, Uf, 
 IIAQHTIKH. m km 6i vTrox^nai toc TOIATTA TX2N 
 APAMATXIN UHii(ri, km hi Tromai jug TOiHTHg, [sc. ^tot 
 ft^nag.] Met, III, 12. 
 
 t See cap, xiii. Trans/. Part II. Sect. 12. 
 
 NOTES. 23J 
 
 good, (xs^foi,) — at all events they were to be, on 
 the whole, serious — cTni^onx : whereas the object 
 of Comedy, with respect to manners, as to every 
 thing else, w^as the ridiculous. We must remem-» 
 ber too, that, as I have before observed, the two 
 dramas were by no means, in Aristotle's time, so 
 rigorously separated as they now are. There 
 were, then, but two dramatic muses, the muse of 
 Tragedy, and the muse of Farce. Yet there is 
 something between a flood of tears and a broad 
 laugh; and as Farce obstinately refused to put 
 any degree of restraint upon her muscles, Tragedy^ 
 who, as we have seen, was so accommodating, as 
 even, occasionally, to approach to the very lauorh 
 of Farce, frequently condescended to dry her 
 tears, and to put on, without scruple, the inter- 
 mediate ^/72i/e, which Comedy should have supplied. 
 
 NOTE 152. 
 P. 155. And, fourthly, the simple, 
 
 SUCH AS AND ALL THOSE TRAGEDIES, 
 
 THE SCENE OF WHICH IS LAID IN THE IN- 
 FERNAL REGIONS. 
 
 To $i TiToc^TOV, oioy, am ^o^m^i;, xxt fl^o^ufifuf, 
 
 xat oVa £v aVa — The enumeration of these species 
 in cap. xxiv. leaves no room to doubt the omission 
 of the word *AIIAOTN here. To h titx^tov, 
 airXsv^ oiovj &C. 
 
 The commentators have been much puzzled to 
 discover, why all those Tragedies, that have for 
 
 their 
 
234 NOTES. 
 
 their subject t« h a^a, should be of the si?jrple 
 construction; and I have, indeed, been sometimes 
 strongly inclined to believe, that the words, xa* 
 itra ly aVa, were out of their place, and belonged 
 to the ^eca;^ J species ; thus: ij ^t nochrmn, oio»^, qi 
 rt AtocpTtgy xa» o* Ifiovgf, xstt otrx Iv dh. Why such 
 subjects should belong to the (tisastrous class, no 
 one can want a reason ; -and the words follow 
 naturally, and pertinently, in this view, after the 
 instance of Ixion, 1 have been surprised not to 
 find so obvious a conjecture in any of the com- 
 ments. Piccolomini, indeed, glances at it: — 
 *' Non s6 vedere, perch^ piu tosto in essempio 
 \ delle Tragedie pathetiche, che delle semplici, 
 " non le habbia poste ; havendo riguardo in ci6 
 " alle pimition, e stipplicii deW inferno"' p. 255. 
 And it is very singular, that Dacier's note (N** 10.) 
 is exactly such, as if he had himself made this 
 conjecture; of which, however, he says nothing. 
 But, after all, it is obvious enough, as Beni has 
 observed, that, in these infernal Tragedies, no 
 Ti^iwsTsixiy no sudden reverse of circumstances, 
 could well have place. The comment of that 
 acute Italian upon this passage, is the best I have 
 seen, and will, perhaps, satisfy the reader, that no 
 such conjecture is wanted.—" Clausula ha}c sit;— 
 "* ex istiusmodi fabulis exemplum duxisse Aris- 
 totelem ad illustrandam simplicem fabulam, 
 " qu6d cum illi [sot Tantalus, -Sisyphus, &c.] in 
 eas poenas atque tonncnta, non a prosperiiate, 
 
 " quern- 
 
 €1 
 
 « 
 
 41 
 
 U 
 
 i( 
 
 CC 
 
 « 
 
 «< 
 
 « 
 
 s< 
 
 <( 
 
 <i 
 
 NOTES. iggm 
 
 quemadmodum Oedipus et alii plerique, devol- 
 " verentur, sed ab initio ad finem usque illis 
 j" Jactarentur, peripetia aberat quhn kngissimt. 
 ^yjmb ver6, non mod6 repent^ fortunes commu- 
 tatio hand fiebat, quod est proprium peripetiae^ 
 verum etiam mutatio in deeursu toto Jiebat 
 levissima ac proph nulla; ita ut ab initio ad 
 finem usque, miria- simplicitate flueret fabula* 
 Ex quo fiebat, ut commodius ex aliis, in quibus 
 repent^ vulnera,^cruciatus, e,t caedes cortinge- 
 bant, patheticce duceretur exemplum, quam ex 
 lis, quibus nullus repente cruciatus infligebatur, 
 et tamen simplicitas de qu^ dicebam mirificfe 
 apparebat." — Bend Comment, p. 3J2. 
 As to the reading itself, Iv a7a, it seems to be 
 sufficiently confirmed even by a collation of blun- 
 ders ; for the MSS. exhibit, i¥ al^oi — h ali — h . 
 
 Victorius seems to doubt, I know not why, 
 whether there existed any such Tragedies. The 
 2to-u^0* nfT^ojcuXtri? of iEschylus must, clearly, 
 have been of this kind ; and probably his Yu%a- 
 yuyoi. His Prometheus may be conceived to 
 come the nearest of any Greek Tragedy extant 
 to a specimen of this kind of drama. — Dacier has 
 very properly reminded us here of what Aristotle 
 had said, cap, xiii. of the old Poets — that tu^ 
 Tup^ora? ^ufla? aTrn^i^fj^av — i.e. they took, as we 
 say, any subject that came iijf)perniost. 
 
 Ml 
 
1«3i» 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE- 153.< 
 
 P. 157. But in the Dr^ma, the effect 
 
 OF SUCH A PLAN IS FAR, DIFFERENT FROM 
 WHAT IS EXPECTED. 
 
 IIoAu TTcx.^oe, T»v iiroXn^iv dxo^otlvn : — literally, " it 
 " tu7^7is out very differently frmn what was ex- 
 " pected, or supposed, by the Poet'' 
 
 The uTToXn^/K, the viejv, and expectation of the 
 Poet, when he crowds so matly incidents into his 
 piece, is, ^tlie shall make it interesting and 
 pleasing by its variety." But th^ contrary happens. 
 The necessity of not exceeding the usual length, 
 and time of representation, reduces the proposed 
 variety to a confused and huddled mass of inci- 
 dents, not long .Aiough dwelt on, or sufficiently 
 detailed, to be either interesting, or clear. His 
 
 Poem will be xxTaTrsTrXsyfJt.iyov Ttj TroiXjXiot, as the 
 
 critic well expresses it in another passage that 
 sh9uld be compared with this*. Thus, the Poet, 
 in this ill-judged attempt, is disappointed in the 
 same manner as the architect, who aims at a 
 beautiful variety by a multitude of small and 
 crowded ornaments, which spoil the general effect, 
 and, at the same time, are too many, and too 
 minute, to afford pleasure by separate inspection. 
 
 And thu3, TToAu ira^a ti\v UTroA^J/ik diro^xiytt ; or, aS 
 
 the ingenious author of the Arwtysis of Beauty 
 
 it I 
 
 has 
 
 ■ ■ -^-x ■■ ■ I I ^, II . Ill 11^ n I ■ _iM 
 
 * Cap,x\m, Transl. Fart III, Sect, i, ^' perplexed hy 
 ** its variety." 
 
 NOTES. 231 
 
 has expressed the same idea, in a chapter which 
 affords no bad illustration of this passage from 
 a sister art, " variety, xvhen overdone,' is a check 
 '' upon itselj ^" 
 
 Such appears to me to be tlie meaning of this 
 passage, which, 1 think, has not been fully seea 
 by any of the commentators. 
 
 NOTE 154. 
 
 P. 157. As Euripides, but not ^Esckylus, 
 H4S done, &c. 
 
 This passage affords a good specimen of the 
 
 distressing ambiguity that prevails so remarkably 
 
 ' throughout 
 
 ^ Hogarth's Anal, of Beauty, cap. viii.— a work, to 
 which, with all its imperfections, 1 think it may fairly be 
 said, that the public have not done full justice ; perhaps, 
 through the author's own fault, who did it mor^ than justice 
 himself, by his pretensions. When Hogarth attempted 
 to philosophize, he was lost. His meaning is often 
 obscured by awkward expression, and sometimes seems, 
 pretty plainly, not to have been well known even to him- 
 self, (See particularly his chap, on Proportion.) Yet the 
 book abounds, I think, with sensible, useful, and, at the 
 time it was written, I believe, uncommon^ observations. 
 The ideas of eminent artists, relative to their own arts, 
 must always be, more or less, valuable and useful; and 
 they ought not to be discouraged from communicating 
 -^hose ideas to the public, by cri^^ism too severely exer- 
 cised upon the manner in which they do it. ^ few ideas, 
 even roughly thrown out, from an artist of genius, will- 
 oftcH'be of more utility to the' progress of the art, than 
 whole pages of fine writing and feiined speculation from 
 the unpractised amateur. 
 
 •' 
 
 Ml 
 
IgK NOTES. 
 
 throughout this work. It fairly admits of two 
 different constructions, and two different senses *. 
 
 It may be thus: ©ero^ tts^o-iv IX^H oXnitt Iwoifia-ocv xott 
 
 xai fA7t (cTTTifi Aia-^uX^,) n UtnTmifriy — x.t.«A. Or 
 thus ; oToi irf^triv lAtg oXriv ETroiricav, — xai utj xxtoc 
 lAi^og (u<r7ri^ Eu^. N. ii M. [sC. xara fxi^^ iTrointTi,'] 
 KXi {Mfi Jo-TTf^ Aitrx,^ [sC. ©Any i7roifi(rg7\) >j ixTrtTr. x.r.aX. " 
 
 — ^In the first of these ways, the censure will fall 
 on Euripides; in the otlier, on iEschylus. Vic- 
 torius contends for the first, but his reasons, 
 though plausible, seem not decisive. The whole, 
 as he observes, turns upon this — whether the oua-Trtf 
 refers to the whole sentence — oXnv i7roin(rav xa* ^n 
 xara /Af^®*, — or, only to the words immediately 
 preceding, i.e. xara jU£f©*. On the whole, the - 
 last construction, I think, offers itself most natu- 
 rally; and it seems rather favoured, too, by the 
 similar application of /u»j wV^?^, to the Poet cen- 
 suredy presently after; where, speaking of the 
 Chorus, he says it should <rykaycow^£(rG«t, UH 
 
 'XISIIEP Tra^' Eu^iwJti, ctAX' 'XIXEIEP -ttol^oc lo<poKXft. 
 
 — But this, after all, is one of those passages, 
 where the " cequato examine hmces'^ are so nicely 
 balanced, that a commentator might continue in 
 suspence for ever, if the necessity of going on did 
 not oblige him to t^'n the scale by a touch of hi^ 
 own hand.* 
 
 * Dacier's interpretation {note 19.) 1: pass over as per* 
 fccdy inadmissible. This forced construction he borrow- 
 ed from Castelvetro, p. 39B. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 239 
 
 NOTE 155. 
 
 p. 157"S' For, in revolutions, and in 
 
 ACTIONS OF THE SIMPLE KIND, THESE PoETS 
 SUCCEED AVONDERFULLY IN WHAT THEY AIM 
 AT; AND THAT IS, THE UNION OF TRAGIC 
 EFFECT WITH MORAL TENDENCY, &C, 
 
 Those annotators who make the words, 'Ev h 
 Ta»f irt^nriruoLi^ — the beginning of a separate pre- 
 cept relative to the use of the xvmderful, have the 
 natural construction of the text, and the uniform 
 reading of all the MSS. against them. The na- 
 tural and obvious construction, surely, is, £» r^ry 
 ^ovoj- h AE rai? 7r£^.— )t.T,aA. And this is also 
 confirmed by the mention of Agatho again, pre- 
 sently afterwards. All the MSS. too, it seems, 
 give 6«u/Aarto?, which can never be forced into the 
 sense of ''per admirabik\'' The alteration pro- 
 posed by Heinsius— (rTo;^a^erfli», and ^^Xito^k— 
 in order to make this refer exclusively to Agatho, 
 seems unnecessary. XTo;)^a^o,.Tai refers, very na- 
 turally, to Agatho in conjunction with the otlitr 
 Poetsjust mentioned, whose mistake, and whose 
 failure, were the same. 
 
 I have ventured to render this passage in a 
 manner somewhat different from any translator or 
 
 * eommen- 
 
 • Yet so Mr. Winstanley seems to understand it. See 
 his note, p. 294. If there are any examples of the 
 ave^b ^aviitxrtii so used, I could wish he had produced 
 them. 
 
 
 ^i\ 
 
240 NOTES. 
 
 commentator that I have seen^ T^ayixov ya,^ 
 T8T0, x«t ^iAakS^&jTrow. The question is, to what 
 T3T0 refers? The commentators are divided. It 
 appears to me, that it refers to the purpose^ at 
 which these Poets are said to have aimed; and 
 the THTo, which follows, explains the r^a.yiy,oy xa« 
 qnXAy^^tfOiroy. — T«to TAP — ** for this (i. e. which 
 " they aim at,) is both Tragic and Moral." The 
 reader will see how exactly w hat follows suits this 
 sense; and how this passage helps to confirm the 
 sense given to the word (piAai/Q^ojTroy, in cap. xiii. 
 [See NOTE 94.] where, Ixinyov xa* (po(^i^ov, is 
 plainly equivalent to r^ocyixov here. The difficulty 
 was, to reconcile these two effects. Aristotle's 
 expression, a-rc^oc^ovTai 0ATMA2Tn2 — *' su)'- 
 ^^ prisingly well" — implies this difficulty, and, 
 that he does not speak of the practice as perfectly 
 agreeable to his own theory of the Tragic drama. 
 — In the subjects here instanced, there was the 
 ^tAakO^wTToi/, because the acTixia and Trowtijia were 
 punished : and, at the same time, the r^ocyixov, 
 though not amounting to what the critic required, 
 Tv^as not wanting, because there was the unexpected 
 reverse of fortune, a calamitous event, irafl»i, &c% 
 The persons suffering, too, were distinguished by 
 eminent wisdom and courage; and though such 
 
 characters 
 
 ^ The best comment is that of Beniiis, p. 379. 
 
 « k r^ayixov, AIIAGES yaf, cap. xiv. *' not Tragic, be- 
 *< cause it exhibits no disastrous event,** Transl. Part II. 
 Sect. 14. 
 
 NOTES. 141 
 
 characters are not what Aristotle recommends as 
 the fittest for Tragic purposes \ yet, by the sub- 
 stitution of admirable and splendid, for moral and 
 estimable, qualities, they are made to produce, in 
 some degree, a similar effect upon the spectator. 
 
 This appears to me to be the sense of the pas- 
 sage ; and it leads me strongly to suspect, that, 
 instead of h tok *AIIA0I2; xf«y/A«<rt, we should 
 read — h tpk AIIIAOI2 tt^. How easily the 
 mistake might happen, is obvious to the eye. My 
 reasons are these: 1. The ^iAa>9^wTo^ — moral 
 tendency— poetical justice, &c. was the very cha- 
 racteristic of the double, fable, {hirXn (rurao-^) and 
 the very reason, probably, why the Platonic critics, 
 as well as the good-natured audiences, preferred it 
 as the best plan^ 2, The instances here given 
 seem to accord exactly with this idea. Thev are 
 plainly examples of the JiirXfi avraa-i^, not of the 
 simple fable — i.e. the fable zvitkout revolution or 
 discovery. The expression, r^ocytxov yotg t8to xa» 
 f »A«vSfwirov, implies, that the Tragic ami Moral 
 were aimed at, and effected, by these Poets, .both 
 in the wt^^wirnou, and in the other actions men- 
 tioned, whatever they were — Iv roig vsfuw. koci Ip 
 To»c w^ayij,»<n : and, consequently, his subse- 
 quent examples of the r^aytxov x«i p\ap6^u)wop 
 must equally accord with both. But, if we read 
 «Vxo»^, this will not be the case ; for those exam- 
 ____^ pies 
 
 *• Sec cap. xiii. t^aiu, &c. Transl. Part II. Sect. 1 1. 
 
 • See cap, xiii, Transl. Part II, Sect. 12, kstparag. 
 VOL. II. R 
 
 
 V' 
 
 hi 
 
142 NOTES, 
 
 pies are such as necessarily imply recolutionSy and 
 a sudden and miCTpected turn of events, wliich 
 suit very well with AIIIAOI2 7rf»yfAMi, but aie 
 incompatible with aVAo»f ; the sifnple fable being 
 defined by this very circumstance, tliat it is dvi^ 
 ▼i^iiriTf*ac, &c. (cap. X.) 
 
 r 
 
 NOTE 156. 
 
 P. 158. Such events, as Agatho says, &c. 
 
 This alludes to these two lines of Agatho: — 
 
 Ta^ av rig uk^ ccoro tut uvai Xsyot, 
 BfiOTOttTi iroXkoc Tvy^ocvetv hjc uxotoc. 
 
 Even this, it may be said, isprobabk, 
 I'hat many things improbable should happen. 
 In human life. — 
 
 See Rhet, II. 24. p. 581, ed. Duval. — And 
 Bayle's Art. Agathon, note [f], who mentions 
 a similar maxim of St. Bernard's: " Ordinatissi- 
 n^um est, minus interdum ordinate fieri." " II 
 est tout a fait de lordre, que de tems en tems 
 il se fasse quelque chose contre I'ordre." 
 This general, and, if I may call it so, possible 
 fiort oi probability, may be termed, the probability 
 ofromame; and tliese lines of Agatho furnish a 
 good apologetical motto for the novel writer. It 
 might be prefixed, perhaps, without impropriety, 
 even to the best productions of the kind — to a 
 Clarissa, or a Cecilia, Nothing is so com- 
 4 , monly 
 
 <( 
 
 *i 
 
 li 
 
 NOTES. 243 
 
 tnonly complained of in such works, as their 
 iynprobabiUty ; and often, no doubt, the complaint 
 is well founded: often, however, the criticism 
 means nothing more, than that the events are 
 uncommon, and proves nothing more, than the 
 want of fancy, and an expended vi^w of human 
 life, in the reader. If the events were 7iot un- 
 common, where would the book find readers ? 
 
 " Si la nature ne combinoit jamais des evene- 
 " mens d une maniere extraordinaire, tout cc que 
 ?Me Poete imagineroit au-dela de la simple et 
 froide uniformity des choses communes, seroit 
 incroyable. Mais il n'en est pas ainsi. Que 
 " fait done le Poete?— Ou il s'empare de ces 
 •** combinaisons extraordinaires, ou il en imagine 
 de semblables. Mais au lieu que la liaison des 
 ^v^nemens nous 6chappe souvent dans la natqre, 
 et que, faute de connoitre Tensemble des choses, 
 nous ne voyons qu une concomitance fatale 
 dans les faits ; le Poet veut lui qu'il regne dans 
 •" toute la texture de son ouvrage une liaison 
 " apparente et sensible ; en sorte qu'il est moins 
 " *orai, et plus vraisemblable que fhistorien,'' — 
 Diderot, De la Poes. Dram. at. the end of his 
 Fere de Famille, p. 306. 
 
 « 
 
 (( 
 
 ti 
 
 << 
 
 (( 
 
 <( 
 
 (( 
 
 »:%»! 
 
 »« 
 
*44 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 
 NOTE 157. 
 
 P. 158. The Chorus should be consi- 
 dered AS ONE of the persons IN THE 
 DRAMA - - - AND A SHARER IN THE ACTION. 
 
 This is not, I think, contradicted, but only pro- 
 perly limited and explained, by what the author 
 says elsewhere — that, to act, is, jJx olxmv x«{w' In 
 y«e • X^^ KHAETTHS AIIPAKTOS * tvvoixv ya^ 
 fAtfvoy wapi^iEron ok T«f in *. He is, there, comparing 
 the Chorus with the persons of the drama. In 
 that view, the Chorus might be said, compara- 
 tively, to have no share in the action, — But here^ 
 he is comparing those Choruses whose songs are 
 properly connected with the action, and who are 
 interested in its event, with such as appear to have 
 no concern with it, and to be, not merely inactive, 
 but indifferent, spectators. In this view, it was as 
 natural to say — the Chorus should be regarded as 
 a persofi of the drama, and a sharer in the action : 
 m sharer, that is, not by the active part, but by the 
 warm interest, which it takes, and expresses, in 
 that action. However, the word dirpaxr^ must 
 not be taken in its strictest sense. We find the 
 Chorus, in the Greek Tragedies, frequently contri- 
 buting, in some little degree, to the progress of the 
 action, by active offices of friendly attenti<Mi and 
 assistance ; as, for example, in the Philoctetes, 
 and the jrljar of Sophocles. 
 
 • Frob. 45, of Sea, 19. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 HS 
 
 NOTE 158. 
 
 P. 159. Their Choral Songs, &c. 
 
 There cannot, surely, be the least doubt, that, 
 for AIAOMENA, we should read, A*AOMENA : an 
 emendation so obvious, that it occurred to me the 
 first time I ever read the passage. But I after- 
 wards found, that it had occurred, long ago, to 
 Madius; a circumstance, which, to my areat 
 astonishment, has been passed over in utter silence 
 by all the subsequent commentators that I have 
 seen. The words of Madius are—" Mendum 
 " igitur in verbis omnino esse censeo ; ac primum 
 
 b voce iiiofAiyoty quce in locum vocis iiofkiyx 
 " irrcpsit : nam verbum ahiv, quod paul6 post 
 
 ponitur, aperte indicat, locum, ut nos fecimus, 
 
 castigandum."—! can attribute it only to some 
 inadvertence, or mistake, that Mr. Wir»tenley, in 
 his note, p. 294, has omitted to take notice of this 
 most material part^ of Madius's comment on the 
 passage. The emendation is confirmed by the 
 «V«(r«, and aViii/, which follow; by the extreme 
 facility of the mistake, and by the difficulty of 
 giving any reasonable explanation of the other 
 reading. AiiofAHfoi, says Victorius, " quia magis- 
 " tratus eos (sc. choros) dabat." But he agrees 
 that /xiAn is understood ; and though we read; * 
 often, of the magistrate's giving a Chorus, (hyxi 
 X^e^^i) that is, furnishing the expence of the choral 
 
 B 3 dresses. 
 
 « 
 
 <( 
 
/ 
 
 246 NOTE S. 
 
 dresses, &c. we no where read, I believe, of their 
 giving the Choral Odes. 
 
 NOTE 1,59. 
 
 p. 160. But it is evident, that, with re-. 
 
 SPECT TO the things THEMSELVES ALSO, &C. 
 
 Kflti h Toic v^ocyfj.»(nu. The alteration of Heinsius, 
 J^a/xao-ik, appears to me, not only to be unnecessary, 
 but to pervert Aristotle's meaning. Ta 7r^ocy[xar»y 
 here, are, I think, the ihi/fg^ themselves — the cir- 
 cumstances and incidents of the action or fable, as 
 opposed to Aiotvotoc, the sentiments^ or thoughtSy 
 and to oVflt uVo ra AOrOT X, t. aA. He had referred 
 to the rhetorical treatises for what concerns the 
 $iOLvoi%; he goes on, (after a short explanation of 
 ^ixyoioL and its various branches,) — '' But it is 
 '' plain, that, not only for the (Tiavoia, or sentiments; 
 " but also for the things themselves (KAI i), roig 
 " T^«7/xa(riv,) how they are to be made terrible, 
 " piteoiiSy &c. the Poet should draw from the same 
 "i sources, and may be referred to the same trea- 
 tises." — Tiius, for example, in the second book 
 of Aristotle's Rhetoric, he may learn what sort of 
 things, persons, and events, are proper to raise 
 terror or piti/ \ the peculiar objects of Tragic 
 imitation. After which observation, he goes on, 
 very naturally and properly, to remark, as Dacier 
 has well observed, " la difference entre les choses 
 > ** que 
 
 • See particularly cap. v. and viii. ed. Duval. 
 
 NOTES. 247 
 
 *' que traitent les Orateurs, et celles que traitent 
 " les Poetes.''— For the rest, my idea of this pas- 
 sage accords with that of Dacier, (note 3) ; but 
 he does not appear to have seen the force of the 
 expression, KAI iv tok ir^ay. Indeed, he entirely 
 drops the conjunction, which is here of great im- 
 portance ; for it seems to fix the sense of ^r^ay- 
 fAao-ii^, and to point its opposition to $ia,yoix : — T« 
 fAfk iy fTE^i ryiv AIANOIAN Iv to*? pur. xutr^ta ' - - 
 - - - h\ov h, oTi KAI iyroiq IIPArMASIN aVo 
 
 In Goulston's version, which follows Castelvetro, 
 this opposition is rightly expressed ; but in what 
 follows, Aristotle's meaning is, I think, mistaken : 
 for the difference he is shewing, (ttAhv Tcwrarov 
 hoL(pi^ii^ &c.) is not, I apprehend, the difference 
 between the things and the sentiments, in Tragedy:, 
 but, between the things themselves only, con- 
 sidered in different views, as the subject of the 
 Orator, or of the Poe^.— These commentators 
 understand the expressions, cv tw Aoyw, and, tx 
 AfyokT(^, of the dramatic speech, and speaker. 
 
 NOTE 160. 
 P. 160. Must draw from the same 
 
 SOURCES . 
 
 Attq rm ocirtay i\$m iu ;^ii«-flat. — The expres- 
 sion, x^ntrloci Ano, is, I believe, uncoinmon. It 
 seems rightly explained by Victorius ''— to bor- 
 row from ;" — " quasi utendum illinc sumere 
 ** atque rmtuari'' 
 
 R 4 
 
 1 
 
 U 
 
S48 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ;iti 
 
 NOTE 161. 
 
 P. 160. Without being shewn to be 
 
 SUCH, - - 
 
 — Aviv McttrxxXtocq. " Senza chc ^idica eche 
 " iinsegni che sian tali." — Piccolomini: — I be- 
 lieve, very exactly. The reader may compare 
 Rhet. I. 2. p. 514, B. — and III. 1. p. 584, B. 
 and, (W«(rxax«xii,) I. 2. p. 515, A. 
 
 The truth of what the philosopher here ob- 
 serves, may appear from this single consideration. 
 Suppose two Tragedies written by two Poets on 
 the same subject, and of which the plot and prin> 
 cipal incidents are the same * : and suppose two 
 pleadings of the same cause, by two speakers. It 
 seems very plain, that the difference of the effect 
 upon an audience in the former case, would bear 
 much less proportion to the difference between the 
 PoetSj than it would, in the other case, to the dif- 
 ference between the Speakers, 
 
 * For example, die Aferope of Voltaire, and that of 
 Aaron Hill. As poems, there can be no comparison be- 
 tween these two productions. But I doubt whether, in 
 both, the Sd.me fabie has not always produced much the 
 same efect upon the audience. This shews the truth 
 and propriety of the rank which Aristotle assigns to tht 
 falfie, as tht ^« scul of Tragedy." 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 . H9 
 
 NOTE 163. 
 
 P. 160. If they already appear so in 
 
 THEMSELVES. 
 
 -—El fcuvoiro iha. — That iiioc is wrong, I have 
 no doubt. For if we admit it, we must take it, as 
 Victorius does, for a single instance ; as if Aristotle 
 had said, ** aut jucundae, aut tristes, aut atro- 
 
 ** ces, &c. : quamvis enim nunc unum horum 
 
 " ponat, i. e. jucunda, reliqua tamen audienda 
 " sunt'' — But how improbable it is, that he should 
 not chase his single instance, if he meant to give 
 one, out of those which had just been mentioned ? — 
 that he should not rather have said, tl ^ocivoiro 
 fAcftya, or him, than iie», Jucunda; which, besides, 
 is evidently not at all to his purpose. I cannot, 
 therefore, help thinking it something more than 
 probable, that Aristotle wrote this, ^antoiro HAH 
 [sc TQiOLnrot, — that is, lAini^a, JiM^a, &c] — " If tliey 
 *' appear already so ; — in themselves'' The ellip- 
 tic brevity of the expression will hardly be objected 
 10, in a writer who abounds with instances much 
 more harsh and obscure tiian this. In the same 
 manner, roittvra is understood with faiyttriM Just 
 before : •— r« fity J<i ^Mviffiai (sc. roiamra) imf 
 hiaa-KotXMf, 
 
 The same conjecture had, I find, occurred, long 
 
 "Hgo, to Castelvetro, but, which I think somewhat 
 
 singular, has not been taken notice of by aay of 
 
 the 
 
 •( #1 
 
i( 
 
 « 
 
 <i 
 
 cc 
 
 u 
 
 ti 
 
 250 . NOTES.' 
 
 the commentators I have seen. He savs — " h 
 (poc^vono ^hx : coloro, li quali non riconoscono 
 che qui sia errore, assegnino k queste parole, se 
 possono, senso dcgno e conveniente ad Aristotele. 
 Adunque 10 crederei che non fosse male i leg- 
 gere »i7»i, in luogo d' uVra, e'l senso sarebbe con- 
 vencvole." [p. 406.] 
 The reader may see a very different explanation 
 of this ^A hole passage in the Abbe Batteux's notes ; 
 but an explanation which cannot, in my opinion, 
 be reconciled to the text. His censure of Dacier 
 and others, that they have rendered this chapter 
 " a contrcsens,"' seems to me to recoil upon 
 himself. 
 
 NOTE 163. 
 
 P. 160. Figures of speech - - -. 
 
 T« fryr^iKOLTx mf Argiwf — . Dacier, Batteux, 
 and indeed almost all the commentators, seem to 
 take <r;j^t,^aT«, here, for the gestures, modifications 
 of countenance, and tones of voice, that accom' 
 pany speech ♦. But,/r^f, I much doubt whether 
 the Greek will fairly admit of such a sense. Aris- 
 totle says, frxr^^xTx AEHEns, figures, or forms, 
 of the speech itself not of the speaker. The same 
 expression occurs several times in the Rhetoric, 
 and always means the form of the diction itself; 
 
 never 
 
 ** ^>:>V«»Ta vocat habitus quosdam, conformadonesque 
 " orisjrontis, oculorum, vulius, resticulationis manuum" &c. 
 
 Tf^ lit* ^ 
 
 NOTES. ■ 25t 
 
 never the gesture with which it is delivered*. — 
 2. Aristotle explains himself by — iiov, TI ivroXrt 
 XXI TI fu;^tj, &c. i.e. zvkat they are, not, what' 
 action or tone of voice they require ^ ; " avec quel 
 " ton et quel geste on ordonne^ as M. Batteux un- 
 warrantably translates it. — 3. Aristotle says, that 
 no blame, or none worth regarding, (aftoi/ (TTrac^nf,) 
 can fall upon the Poetry, (^k rtjk 7roi»iTixuv,) in 
 consequence of the Poet's ignorance of these mat- 
 ters, or of his not knowing them technicLUy. 
 A remark, surely, very unnecessary, if mere action 
 and pronunciation were intended by (r;^»jjtAaT«. — 
 But, 4. The thing seems evident from the instance 
 given of a criticism of this kind. Protagoras 
 plainly charged Homer with ignorance, or inac- 
 curacy, with respect to these o-p^ujaaTa Xfffwc, 
 whatever they were. Now, according to the 
 common explanation, the criticism could fall only 
 on Homer's pronunciation or action : but, of this, 
 Protagoras knew nothing ; all he appears to have 
 meant, is, that Homer had made an improper use 
 of the imperative mood; that is, had used one 
 ^X"/^^ ^f?^®?, where he should have used another. 
 But what, then, are we to understand by these 
 ^X*'/*^'^* ^«5«wc ? — The learned reader will imme- 
 diately see, that, as Victorius has observed, they 
 
 are 
 
 Robortelli, p. 227. 
 
 * Rhet. II. 24, p. 579. III. 8, p. 591, B. and 10, 
 p, 594, B.— And De Soph. Elench,ip, 284, D. 
 
 *• Had this been his meaning, he would rather have said 
 " TI ENTOAHS-^ri ETXH2/' &c. 
 
 ^^' 
 
i 
 
 2s% NOTES, 
 
 are not to be confounded with those (rx^fAara 
 Aigiojf, of wliich we hear so much from Cicero, 
 Quintilian, Dion. Hal. &c. — those '' figurae ver- 
 *' borumy' which are opposed to the a-x^f^otrx 
 iiocy9ix;y the " figurae mentis, sententiarum,'" &c. 
 Indeed, no such division of cx^iaatx is, I believe, 
 to be found in Aristotle. It seems to have been 
 the invention of the later Rhetoricians ; and how 
 little they were agreed, as to the number and the 
 species of these <r;^tjfxaTa, the propriety of the 
 division itself, and even the precise sense of the 
 word (fx^i^^y ^^y b^ seen in Quintilian IX. i. — 
 The (Txr^iAoirsi, Xij^iug of Aristotle, in this place, are 
 plainly such, as would have been denominated by 
 later writers, crp^n/xara ^lavoie^ — figures gf the 
 thought or ^ense. Indeed we find them actually 
 enumerated among the figures of that class. See 
 Dioni/s. Halicarn. de Struct. &c. Sect, i, — So 
 Quintilian ; ** Figuras quoque mentisy quae cx»»- 
 *' ^«T« ^lavoiag dicuntur, res eadem recipit omnes, 
 " in quas nonnuUi diviserunt species dictorum, 
 " (he.ofjokesybommots.) l^eimei interrogamus, 
 " et dubitamus, et affirmamus, et minemur, et 
 *' optamus *." 
 
 I see, therefore, not the least reason, why the 
 expression <r;^w/*a A£fi«f should not be rendered 
 here, exactly as in the other passages above referred 
 to, ^^Jigura orationis' — form, or cofijiguration, of 
 speech. For A«Ji?, it must be observed, is here 
 used, 
 
 1 De Instii. Or. VI. 3. p. 316. id. Gibs. 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 NOTES. 153 
 
 Irted, not in the particular sense of diction, or 
 style and marmer of expression, (as it is used 
 Rhet, II i. 8.) but in the general sense of Aoy©*, 
 speech, as we find it used in the beginning of the 
 next chapter. 
 
 But though I cannot admit, that <r;^»j/*aT« means 
 " configurationes om," &c. or, should be so ren- 
 dered, yet I certainly admit, that Aristotle appears 
 plainly to consider these different forms of speech, 
 or sentences, with a view to action, or delivery ; 
 and, possibly, the observation of Victorius may be 
 well founded, that — " vocatas hvdfgura ita viden- 
 tur, quia aliter atque aliter vultus, totumque 
 corpus, cum variantur illce, conformantur ; ut 
 " merit6 h^c de caus^, c'x^i^ot.rx, figuras, ips» 
 " appellatae sint."— I find the same thing in the 
 following passage of Aristides Quintilianus, which 
 seems evidently to allude to this very part of 
 Aristotle's treatise, and may be thought to afford 
 some illustration. — Ilff* h tji? t«v SXHMATflN 
 -^u<r£«c, Uf fr^otrnyuv y^n ra voniAura, i iroKXot Asyiii^ 
 ^uv iysfAtiu 'IKANH TAP "H 'TnOKPIIir TATTA 
 'AHAX2SAI. Ka« yx^ nsrtav Ixaroy [i.e. each of 
 these o-^u^aTa ^javoiac, or ¥oniJ,ar(ii,,] u* cri/nXAtt T«f, 
 'WC «» ^afa»Ti|«i^ 71 awufl-j*, »f act CT;y;^««ij<rfi?, rffp 
 ^layoiav* xa* ijrot fAix^oir^sTrtig, cJ? a« hopitofru^, n 
 [Aiya^uHg, (ig ii yvw/xoAoytat x«t a^tiyiKTiif, dinpyx'' 
 ^ovTflit. uv UxfH rnv mpyuxv EK TX2N TTliaN 
 APIzr AN AIArNOIHMEN, 'nN [leg. forte t>T£] 
 .TEKA2T0N, KATA TON THS rnOKPI2EXiZ KAI- 
 
 PON, 
 
254 MOTES. 
 
 PON, TOir SHMAIIN ENTieHII * nAP' *0 KAI 
 SXHMASIN ATTOIS STNEBH KAH8HNAI \ 
 - I ratlier suspect, we should read nPOAFEIN, in 
 the beginning of this passage; in the sense of 
 ix^t(nify w^o^t^iiVy &c. Meibomius renders o-^rifAaruf, 
 ** gestuum,' which cannot be the meaning ; for by 
 the mruif Uxfoy, and the exempUfication which 
 follows, (waponTf^tru;, o-uyp^w^no-ftf, &c.) and, indeed, 
 by all the rest of the passage, it is clear, that he 
 speaks of the configurations of the speech or sen- 
 tence, of which he goes on to describe the different 
 effects, j^r^^ on the mindy and, ultimately, on the 
 action, of the speaker. The version should, there- 
 fore, have been thus : — *^ Defgurarum naturA 
 " quibus animi notiones proferendcBy' &c. Or, 
 if Trpotrocynv be right, the meaning, I think, must 
 be — ^* to xchich those votijtAara are to be referred — 
 ** under which they are to be classed.'' See the 
 passage above, from Quintilian, and that of Dion. 
 Hal. Sect. 8. which is much to the purpose. 
 
 Why Aristotle should dismiss this subject, as of 
 much more concern, to the Actor, than to the 
 Poet, requires no explanation. There could scarce, 
 indeed, be any other occasion for the study of these 
 (r;^?ijutaTa, but in order to learn, or to teach, in what 
 manner, with what variations of tone, countenance, 
 and gesture, propriety required them to be pro- 
 nounced. — At the same time, it will not appear 
 strange that he should mention them, if we recollect, 
 
 that 
 t Aristid. QuintiU " De Musica;' p. 86; ed. Mcibmii. 
 
 It O T E S/ 255 
 
 that the Poets themselves were, at first, actors 
 also, in their own pieces, and, afterwards, no 
 doubt, Instructed their actors; and hence perhaps, 
 after all — not, as is commonly understood, from 
 the moral teaching of the drama itself *— the well 
 known phrases, ^JxtrKuv r^xy^A^mty, docere fabu- 
 lamj &c. may, most naturally, be accounted for. 
 
 Nor was this practice peculiar to antient times. 
 We know with what eagerness and animation 
 Voltaire taught his Tragedies, almost to his ktest 
 hour. During his last visit to Paris, where he 
 died, " II n y vit rien, ne songea a y rien voir ; 
 " il ny v^cut que pour des Comediens, qu'il 
 " fatiguoit, en voulant leur donner des lemons de 
 " declamation \'' 
 
 NOTE 164. . 
 
 P. 161. The professed masters of that 
 
 KIND — . 
 — Th Til* roiocvrny Ix^yr^ 'APXITEKTONIKHN. 
 
 For this word, see Eth. Nicom, I. 1, 2. — Thus, 
 here, it seems to mean that master art, which 
 teaches the principles of elocution, the art oi public 
 speaking, in general 
 
 ■ _ 
 
 * Sec Casaub. in Allien, f, 413. and De Satyr. Poes. 
 P-II3 
 
 * Tableau de Paris, tome viii. p. 20. Since this note 
 was written, I have had the satisfaction to find the above 
 explanation of the phrase ^I'^xtrxtiv r^aywSiav.&c. supported 
 by Heyne : « AiJiw^aA®- est poeta, qui fabulam committit, 
 '' in theatrum producit j quia earn actores docetr-^ln 
 Epicteti Enchir, cap, xvii. 
 
 >u 
 
 
 %' 
 
as6 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 NOTE 165. 
 
 P. 161. The cavil of Protagoras - - -. 
 
 See Hermes, I. 8. p. 144. 
 
 This, it seems, was his usual style of criticism ; 
 
 for, ^iftvoiay af cic> vf^n rtvofxa, ^nks^in, as Diog. 
 
 I-aertius says of him *. He seems, indeed, to have 
 been the inventCM* of these vx^fxarx Xt^iwq, At 
 least the same writer say^, ^t«Xf rov Aoyov IIPXiTOS 
 lie TtiTirxpA' 'ETXXiAHN, 'EPX1TH2IN, 'AHOKPI- 
 XIN, •ENTOAHN- (o't ^1, tU i7rra — x,r.cc\.) »f 
 
 jcflM 7r\jtfAtmg ilwt A«y«» : — " the Jhundations of 
 speech \" 
 
 There is sometliing amusing in the history of 
 this man. He was originally a porter ; and might 
 have continued so, if his extraordinary genius for 
 tying up wood had not attracted the notice of 
 Democritus, by whose instructions and encourage- 
 ment, from an eminent porter, he became as 
 eminent a sophist. The reader may see the story 
 in Aulus Gellius,V. 3.— The public was, certainly, 
 not much obliged to Democritus. Protagoras was 
 of more use to mankind when he invented porters' 
 knots ^, than when he invented the rx»»/A«T« Aijwf, 
 
 and 
 
 * IX. 52. 4^. Meib. 
 
 * IX. 54. — See Hermes, as above, about the diftereot 
 species of sentences ; and ch, ii. 
 
 ' — Tur MakHfaam TT AHN, «>' Af ra 0o^ta ffitra^wi, 
 «j/^, «f pmv A^iroT£^. D, Laert, IX. $$• 
 
 NOTES. 257 
 
 und undertook to teach, at the price of a hundred 
 mhice \ the art of Belial 
 
 ----*' to make the worse 
 " Appear the better reason :*' 
 
 70V fjTTca Xoyov k^uttu ttoiuv ^ 
 
 " If a cobler^' says Socrates in the Meno of 
 Plato, " or a taylor, should return the shoes, or 
 " the clothes, he undertook to mend, in a worse 
 
 condition than that, in which he received them, 
 '' he would §ooa lose his business, and be starved 
 
 for want of work. But it is not so with the 
 
 sophists. Protagoras was able to carry on, 
 'I for forty years together, without detection, and 
 II with great credit, the trade of spoiling all those 
 " who became his disciples, and sending them 
 " back much worse than he found them ^" 
 
 a 
 
 ti 
 
 II 
 
 u 
 
 NOTE 166. 
 P. 161. To ALL DICTION BELONG, &C. - - 
 
 See Diss. I. p. 55. vol. i.— After having discus- 
 sed three of the constituent parts of Tragedy, the 
 fable, the manners, and the sentiments, Aristotle 
 now comes to the diction (Af^jc), upon which he 
 bestows three chapters. His subject plainly 
 , required 
 
 ^ Above £, 300.— D. Laert. ibid, and Suidas. Aris- 
 totle, however, gives a different account of the way in 
 which he was paid. Ethic, Nicom. IX. i. ' ' 
 
 * See R/jet. II. 24. p. 581, D. 
 
 ' Ed. Serr. torn. ii. p. 91. 
 
 VOL. IJ. s 
 
ajS N O Y E S. 
 
 required him to speak of the diction of Tragedy % 
 not of poetic diction in general; much less, to 
 descend to the grammatical elements of language 
 in gefieral. Yet, of his three chapters on diction, 
 the first is merely grammatical, and such, as even 
 in a rhetoj^cal treatise would appear misplaced ; 
 and even the two following chapters relate to poetic 
 language in general, without any thing applicable 
 to the diction of Tragedy in particular — his proper 
 subject — except a single observation, or, rather, 
 hint, at the end of the third chapter ^ 
 
 Dacier, who discharged, with as much fidelity 
 as any commentator ever did, the duty of seeing 
 nothing amiss in his author, has zealously defended 
 the propriety of this grammatical chapter : but 
 all he says amounts, I think, to little more than 
 this — that the chapter should be there, because it 
 is there. No man is nice about reasons, when the 
 point to be proved has been determined before he 
 looks for them. 
 
 NOTE 167. 
 
 P. 161. Discourse or speech — • 
 
 AOroi. — Mr. Harris, in the Hermes, p. 19, 
 
 has rendered the w ord, sentence. He took that 
 
 part of the idea, that suited his subject ; but, that 
 
 tljis is not the whole sense of the word, but only a 
 
 sense 
 
 * See the conclusion of cap. xxii. Ilfft (abv iv T/?ay«- 
 ha;, M. r.aX. 
 
 ** See NOTE 209. 
 
 I^ O T E S. 2S9 
 
 aense included in the word, is evident from what is 
 »aid below, in the definition of Ao^, where the 
 entire Diad is comprehended under that term. 
 Had I here rendered ?ioy&» by sentence, I must, to 
 have been consistent in my translation, have there 
 called the Iliad a sentence. 
 
 The word Xoy^ here plainly answers — not to 
 sentence, exclusively, nor yet, exclusively, to what 
 Mr. Harris calls '' Oration or Discourse \'' as 
 composed of several sentences ; but, it is a ge- 
 neral term, comprehending both these, and appli- 
 cable, like the Latin word oratio, or the English, 
 speech, to every significatit combination of words, 
 whether consisting of a single sentence, or of many ; 
 as, indeed, appears from Aristotle's definition itself. 
 Nay, the word appears not even to have been 
 limited to a complete assertive sentence ; for the 
 philosopher, in the treatise -m^i 'Ef^fixmoc^, gives 
 
 the denomination of Xoy^ to these two words 
 
 JMfXof Itt^^. He says, h TXi* AOrii*, (in hac 
 orationej xu\og lirni^. It was what he calls a 
 merely significant Xoy^, as distinguished from an 
 assertive Xoy^, or proposition, such as, x«xO* 
 E2T1N Ittt^'. 
 
 I was unable to find any English word, that 
 would express Xoy^ adequately, and clearly. 
 And it seems somewhat remarkable, that the 
 Greek language, rich and copious as it is, should 
 not afford— at least I am not aware that it does— 
 - any 
 
 Hi 
 
 eimesy p. 324. 
 S 2 
 
■ ^ 
 
 >6o NOTE S. 
 
 any single word perfectly synonymous to our word, 
 sentence. A«y^, as I have observed, is too wide'r 
 it serves equally to express a single sentence, or a 
 whole speech, or even less than a sentence. It 
 is applied by Aristotle to a combination of two 
 words — a substantive and an adjective, without a 
 *oerb — and, to tiie Iliad, Ilipioi^ was only one 
 particular kind, or form, of sentence \ KuXov did 
 not necessarily contain a complete sense, or thought, 
 which is essential to our word, sentence ^ 
 
 NOTE 168. 
 
 P. 162. In different ?arts of thjc 
 
 MOUTH - - -. 
 
 Toiroif. — Clearly right; nor can I -conceive, 
 what should have' induced any critic to suspect 
 this reading.— See Dionys. Halicam. Sect. 14. — 
 his curious and accurate analysis of articulation : 
 and Aristides Quintil p. 89. cd. Afeib.— where, in 
 describing the fonnation of the letters, these ex- 
 pressions occur : — U t«v tti/m th? oio^Tag TOnnN 
 — and, fx ixtcra T« fuvnTnta TonOT. ' See, also, 
 Hermes, III. 2, p. 322.— TONOIS, which Ijad 
 occurred to Mr. Winstanley*, would be mere 
 tautology ; for that idea is fully expressed after- 
 wards, by ajuTUT* xctt ptt^vrnru Thus, R/iet. III. 1. 
 
 Toi? TONOir, 'OION lliia x«» /3apii«, xai ^lo-jj. 
 
 * See Rhet. III. 9. p. 592. « Demet. ^e E/oc, Sect, 2. 
 
 • Ed. Ox. 1780, p. 296. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 261 
 
 NOTE .169. 
 
 P. 162. As THEIR TONE IS ACUTE, GRAVE, 
 OR INTERMEDIATE. 
 
 OjuTijTi, p»pvTnTi, xat ru> fxio-u. — All the com- 
 mentators seem agreed, that by tw jtA^o-w is meant 
 the circumflex. Mr. Foster, in his Essay on 
 Accent, &c. expresses some degree of doubt about 
 this*; and, I confess, it appears to me to be 
 somewhat more than doubtful. Certainly, the 
 only obvious and proper sense of the word mean, 
 or middle, thus apphed to the pitch of sound, is, 
 that which is between JJu and |3«/>u; not, that 
 which is compounded oi the two, as the circumflex 
 is always represented to be. At least the expres- 
 sion, in this latter sense, would not be very accu- 
 rate and philosophical. A circumflexed syllable 
 is described to be, a syllable that has both an 
 acute and a grave accent;— a/x^oTi/xzf tck; rx(Tnq, 
 as it is expressed by Dion. Halicam. Sect. 11. 
 The voice first rises, and then falls, on the same 
 syllable, A man would be thought to speak very 
 strangely, who should describe any object painted 
 half white and half black, by saying, that it was 
 of a colour between black and xvhite. 
 
 But, farther, I observe, that in other passages 
 of Aristotle's works, where lie speaks of accents, 
 the word fAi<roy no where occurs. Indeed, he 
 Mses neither this, nor any other word, to denote 
 
 . the 
 
 ' p. 22. — See the note, 
 
 S3 
 
a6t NOTES. 
 
 the circwiiflex accent. He mentions only ifu, and 
 j3afu, aaite, and grave. See De Soph, Elench. 
 p. 284, C.~-288, E.— 304, A.— 306, A. erf. Dmmi 
 In the last of these passages especially, his eX' 
 pression is remarkable : u voc^oc ir^o<ru>^iav o^n<xy, 
 
 'H BAPEIA Tf 0(j-«<^»» Xwig ' il ^i irocr^x (3«^i*ak, *H 
 
 Q^EIA. That is — " If the sophism supposes the 
 " acute accejity the answer is — it is the grave 
 " accent; and vice versa.'' Here are no traces 
 of the triple division of accents, given by later 
 writers, into acute, grave, and circumflex. Nay 
 more ; he speaks in the same way, even when the 
 very ambiguity in question lies between an acute, 
 und a circumflex, accent ; as, i, (nonj and 'J (ubi)* 
 See the passage, p. 304, A : where the circum- 
 flexed *5 is expressed by the word j3afUTifok\ — 
 This, I confess, much increases my doubt with 
 respect to the word iaktu in the passage before us. 
 For, had that been Aristotle's term for the dr- 
 cumjiex accent, as the common explanation sup- 
 poses, we probably should have found the expres- 
 sion in some of the passages referred to ; at least, 
 in that last mentioned. 
 
 I cannot, surely, be misunderstood, as meaning 
 to infer, from these passages, that the flexure itself 
 of the voice upon a single syllable, which was 
 afterwards denominated by Grammarians, Tf^io- 
 TWjuiinj, was unknown to Aristotle and the earlier 
 
 writers. 
 
 . * A marginal note in Duval's ed. says — " Semper 
 cnim Aristoteies ^ftia¥ vocat -mv m^i7vo)fitvrtv»** 
 
 NOTES. 263 
 
 writers. The thing, undoubtedly, has always 
 existed, and ?nust exist, more or less, in every 
 language. But these passages do, I think, afford 
 a pretty strong presumption, that the circumflex 
 had then no appropriated term^, and, conse- 
 quently, that, in tfiis passage, the word fAtirci^ has 
 a different, and its iisual and proper^ meaning; 
 that, in which it is used continually by the writers 
 on Harmonics ^. 
 
 But, farther, it appears to be so used by Aris- 
 totle himself, in a similar passage of his Rhetoric. 
 In the beginning of the third book, speaking of 
 oratorical action or delivery, (vwox^Kri^) as far as 
 it relates to the voice, he says, iV* h dvrv fi.iy ep 
 
 FOTi /Aiy«X«, xtci, TTQTi /Aix^ft, xai won fABcti* xai trui 
 TOK ToycK, oioir, ofjijt, xKi (^Afuoi, xai MEIH». Now, 
 
 even supposing tliis to relate to accents, it seems, 
 . ' that 
 
 ' ' ' ■ 
 
 • Mr. Foster, who had undoubtedly examined this 
 matter more thoroughly than I pretend to have done, 
 does not, I think, produce any such c/ear/y appropriated 
 term, from Aristotle, Plato, Aristoxenus, or any other 
 • writer of that age. See ch. v. p. 140, ^cc. of his very 
 learned Essay on Accent and Quantity, &c. 
 
 •» -See the passage from Euclid, below. Thus too 
 
 Bacchius: T^otth^ rri^ puvng Trotmi >^ofm tlvou; Tf«f 
 
 iiiAf, MESON, ^afw. p. 10. ed. yl/«^.— meaning, by ^<rw, 
 the Phrygian mode or key, which was between the 
 Dorian and the Lydian, as D is between C and E.— 
 So Arist. QuintiL t«t«v, q h^v ^i,^,,^, ar^o^ ^^ &a^vr,^ t«j 
 
 f^vyi©-, vfoi ra ME2A. /. 25. 
 
 & 4 
 
 t II 
 
i6t NOTES. 
 
 the circtmiflejv accent. He mentions only o£u, and 
 j3afu, aaite, and grave. See De Soph, Elenck. 
 p. 284, C— 288, E.— 304, A.— 306, A.ed. thcvai 
 In the last of these passages especially, his ex' 
 pression is remarkable: i\ voc^x tr^oa-tJioiv o^uocy, 
 
 *H BAPEIA Tf 0(r«^*« Auvif * il $i noL^oc ^ol^um^ 'H 
 
 OHEIA. That is — " If the sophism supposes the 
 " acute accent y the answer is — it is the grave 
 " accent y and vice versa.'' Here are no traces 
 of the triple division of accents, given by later 
 writers, into acute, grave, and circumflex. Nay 
 more ; he speaks in the same way, even when the 
 very ambiguity in question lies between an acute, 
 and a circumfkjc, accent ; as, », (non^) and 'i (ubi). 
 See the passage, p. 304, A: where the circum- 
 flexed '« is expressed by the word j3«^uTffok^ — 
 This, I confess, much increases my doubt with 
 respect to the word /xfo-w in the passage before us. 
 For, had that been Aristotle's term for the cir- 
 cumfiex accent, as the common explanation sup- 
 poses, we probably should have found the expres- 
 sion in some of the passages referred to ; at least, 
 Jn that last mentioned. 
 
 I cannot, surely, be misunderstood, as meaning 
 to infer, from these passages, that the flexure itself 
 of the voice upon a single syllable, which was 
 afterwards denominated by Grammarians, xt^ttr- 
 Tw/tAiKu, was unknown to Aristotle and the earlier 
 
 writers. 
 
 i« ■ ■■ ■' ■ III . 
 
 - * A marginal note in Duval's ed. says — " Semper 
 cnim Aristoteles fia^nw vocat -mv m^KywfAtYrjy.'* 
 
 NOTES. 263 
 
 writers. The thing, undoubtedly, has always 
 existed, and rnust exist, more or less, in every 
 language. But these passages do, I think, afford 
 a pretty strong presumption, that the circumflex 
 had then no appropriated term^ and, conse- 
 quently, that, in tfiis passage, the word fAttroy has 
 a difterent, and its usual and proper, meaning; 
 that, in which it is used continually by the writers 
 on Harmonics ^ 
 
 But farther, it appears to be so used by Aris- 
 totle himself, in a similar pass*ige of his Rhetoric. 
 In the beginning of the third book, speaking of 
 oratorical action or delivery, (iwox^Kr^g) as far as 
 it relates to the voice, he says, iV» it dvTv [Mtv h 
 
 vpTt fAiyxXn, xmi 7r9Tt fxix^j*, nxi iron jUfcrp* xa» ir«g 
 ro<f Toveif, oiQy, o^n^, xa* jSajpiia, xai MESHi. Now, 
 
 even supposing tliis to relate to accents, it seems, 
 _ , that 
 
 ^ 
 
 • Mr. Foster, who had undoubtedly examined this 
 matter more thoroughly than I pretend to have done, 
 does not, I think, produce any such cJear/y appropriated 
 term, from Aristotle, Plato, Aristoxenus, or any other 
 writer of that age. See ch. v. p. 140, ecc. of his very 
 learned Essay on Acent and Quantity, &c. 
 
 ^ See the passage from Euclid, below. Thus too 
 
 Baechtus: T^om^ rm fwwjf 7ro(7»^ >^OfAa uvau; Tf«f 
 
 HiA,, MESON, ^a^ir>, p. lo. ed. yl/«A~meaning, by ^^e«, 
 the Phrygian mode or key, which was between the 
 Dorian and the Lydian, as D is between C and E.— 
 So Arist, Qumtil. tstwv, fjnv ^i^, vpo; rm $afvrifa tuj 
 
 ff^<®-, Tffoj Tot MESA. p. 25. ■'' 
 
 s 4 
 
M> . ^ 
 
 164 NOTES. 
 
 that /xfflry, here, should naturally have tlic same 
 meaning, with respect to ©$£*>, and p«/»i»a, as it 
 has when applied immediately before to fxtyxXn 
 and ^*Jc/)«, where it plainly means the medium be- 
 tween loud and soft. — But I think the passage 
 clearly does not relate to the mere syllabic accent: 
 for he is there professedly speaking of the accom- 
 modation of the voice to the expression of differ- 
 ent passiojis ; he must therefore mean such varia- 
 tion of tone or pitch, as depends upon the 
 speaker s choice ; net that of the accentual acute- 
 ness and gravity ; for this is always spoken of as 
 a fixed and invariable thing '. Aristotle tlierefore 
 means, I believe, exactly what Cicero has expres- 
 sed m the following words ; and, from the simili- 
 tude of the expression, it seems probable, that he 
 had this very passage of Aristotle before him, or 
 in his memory.—" Nam voceSy ut chordse, sunt 
 *' intentce, qua3 ad quemque lactum respondeant, 
 " acuta, gra'vis; cita, tarda; magmiy parva; quas 
 " tamen inter omnes est sua quoque in genera 
 " medwcris:'— That is, as it seems rightly ex- 
 plained by Dr. Pearce, every one of these differ- 
 ences of voice, high and low, loud and soft, &c. 
 has its medium — [xstroy^. To this passage of 
 Cicero, I shall add one from Quintilian to the 
 same purpose, and which affords a still clearer 
 commentary upon that in the Rhetoric of Aris- 
 ^^^^ • totle. 
 
 . , * See Mr. Foster's Essay> p. 23, 24, 25. 
 ^ Cic. de Or. III. 57. p. 417, £d Peara. 
 
 \ 
 
 a 
 
 u 
 
 NOTES. t6i 
 
 *otle. — ** Utendi voce multiplex ratio. Nam 
 *' prcBter illam differentiam quxz est tripartita, 
 *' acuta, gravis, flex ce,— turn intentis, tum re- 
 missis — tum elatis, tum inferioribus modis, opus 
 est, — spatiis quoque lentioribus aut citatioribus. 
 " Sed iis ipsis media interjacent multa^." If 
 tlie reader compares this with the passage of Aris- 
 totle, he will see how exactly it answers to the 
 Greek. Here are three differences of voice cor- 
 res}K)nding plainly to the three mentioned by 
 Aristotle. The difference of intentis and remissu, 
 (loud and soft) expresses his fi^tyxx^ xa» /**x^j*; 
 that of, elatis, et injerioribus modis, (acuter, or 
 graver, tones or pitches,) his ogii* xa» ^x^na.; and 
 that of spatiis lentioribus, &c. (quicker or slower 
 times) his ^'uS^tAOif tkt*, &c. And, that Quintilian 
 did not understand, by ©Jn« and /3a/)n«, the acute 
 and grave syllabic accent, is clear from his ex- 
 pressly saying, that there are those three differ- 
 ences besides that of the different accents — 
 ** prater illam differentiam," &c. — Lastly, the 
 " media interjacent multa," plainly alludes to tha 
 {kiqiti of Aristotle. 
 
 The following passage, from the clear and ac- 
 curate musical treatise of Euclid, will serve to 
 illustrate, at the same time, both tlie terms of Aris- 
 totle, Tow*f ^ and jutfern. Enumerating the different 
 , --_____^ acceptations 
 
 s 
 
 h 
 
 II. 
 
 Whenever Aristotle clearly speaks of- accents, he 
 always, as far as 1 have observed, uses the word tt^oo-m^im, 
 
 not 
 
 aH 
 
NOTES, 
 
 acceptations of the word rov®^, one of wliicli is 
 Tdtfl-if, tension or pitchy his instance of that sense 
 
 of the word, is, i hy «? rao-if, roy^ Taytrxi, x«6* o 
 patfAiy ofuTOj/itv rtva, ij (3apureyf*v, ?! MEIXl* TXii 
 THX ^aNH2 TONUt xfp^^^crfa*: i.e. a fniddiing 
 pitch oJvoice\ 
 
 On the whole, then, I see no reason why we 
 should not understand the word /Afo-w to ht used 
 in the same sense in the passage which is the 
 subject of this note. For though, indeed, Aris- 
 totle is there speaking of single letters, and there- 
 foie can only mean syllabic accents or tones, yet 
 it is plain, that these accents must have admitted 
 of the distinction of high, low, and intermediate^ 
 even in single zvords, when of more than two 
 syllables'"; much more, in whole ^T^/e/zce^ or /?e- 
 riods, where what Mr. Foster calls the oratarial 
 accent, f i^, indeed, it be compatible with a Jlred 
 syllabic accentuation of single words, of which I 
 profess myself not yet convinced,)^ must neces- 
 sarily 
 
 not TOW/. See the passages above referred to, in the 
 treatise De SopL Elench, And, in thii work, cap. xxv. 
 
 ' P. 20, ed. Melb. 
 
 ^ Let any man pronounce a word of many syllables — 
 ^r/a>07rf?^£raTa, for example — having one acute syllable, 
 as D. Halic, says, among many grave — kv 7ro>:Naui fixp/oif. 
 Sect. II. He will hear plainly, if he has any ear, that 
 the acute syllable is only the acutest ; and that the grave 
 syllables are of different degrees of elevation, and some 
 of them of course, /uforoir-intermediate, between the mou 
 acute and the most grave. 
 
 NOTES. J67 
 
 sarily have varied the tone or pitch of the same 
 nominal syllabic accent, from word to word. 
 
 But whatever sense of the word /xf<r(^ we adopt, 
 there is a difficulty, in this passage, which I must 
 leave as I find it. The mention of toiie or pitch 
 of voice here, seems to me to be strangely mis- 
 placed. Accent, or tone, belongs to syllables, not 
 to letters, of which Aristotle is here speaking. 
 The vowels, indeed, may be acute or grave ; but 
 as syllables making a part of words, not as letters, 
 separately considered, as they here are.— Besides ; 
 the other differences mentioned are fixed, essential 
 differences. Of these letters, he says, some are 
 formed in this manner, and others, in that : some 
 are aspirated, and others smooth— some long, 
 others short. But, can it be said, with any pro- 
 priety, iliat some are acute, and others gra^e? 
 Are there vowels that are always acute, as there 
 are vowels that are always long? — This seems not 
 more accurate, than it would be to conclude an 
 enumeration of Ihe differences of zvords, by ad- 
 ding that some are said, and some are sung : or 
 
 rather, it seems just the same, as if a man, de- 
 scribing the different sorts of bricks that are made, 
 should conclude with telling us, that some are 
 ' put at the top- of a wall, some at bottom, and 
 eome in the middle. 
 
 
«M 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 170. 
 P. 163. A CONJUNCTION IS A SOUND, &C. 
 
 Tlie whole of this first definition of the con- 
 junction appears to me to be corrupt beyond all 
 hope of restoration from conjecture. Mr. Harris 
 plainly passes it over as inexplicable, and takes 
 the second definition only*. I may well, there- 
 fore, be excused for not attempting to translate, 
 what I confess myself totally unable to compre- 
 hend. I do, indeed, understand very well, that a 
 conjunction, " neither hinders nor constitutes — 
 " neither gives nor takes away — the meaning of 
 -" the sentence in which it stands." But how 
 this can be regarded as a definition of a conjunc- 
 tion, I do not understand. To define a thing 
 only by what it does not do, (for it is hefe given 
 as a separate and complete definition,) is hardly 
 reconcileable with Aristotle's logical accuracy**. 
 Dacier, in his translation, has obviated this objeo^ 
 tion, by uniting the two definitions ; but without 
 any authority from the text. 
 
 I must, again, confess, that what follows, about 
 
 the situation of the conjunction in different parts 
 
 of a sentence, has not been made intelligible to 
 
 nie, 
 
 * Hermes, 11. 2. note (a). 
 
 ^ See Topic, lib. vi. cap. 6. Sect. 5. — where he repre- 
 sents a definition as vitious, kav amo<pouTti ^lai^ to yiv(B' — - 
 i. e, if the specific difference be expressed by a negation. 
 He excepts the definition o^ mere privations^ (jxi blindness y) 
 which can be ^jeiined no odierwisc. Sect. 7. 
 
 NOTES.' ^69 
 
 «ic, by any explication I have seen ; particularly, 
 the expression, xa9' aurw, which M. Batteux, 
 after Castelvetro, renders, " by its nature T--^'' k 
 " moins que par elle-minie elk ne soitfaite pour 
 ** 6tre au commencement." But this sense can- 
 not be admitted ; nor, I think, any other, than— 
 " by itself— aloncr This Mr. Winstanley ex- 
 
 1*19 
 
 plains by otyiM dyrociroioimai : but I capnot see how 
 his translation—" modo eas conjunctiones exci- 
 *' pias quoB in initio periodi, xxV auT«f,— rit^ stare 
 " non possunt/' &c. — accords with Aristotle 3 
 words— ^V fxn i^u.0TTi} ly <i^^^ Xoya nhyoci xaj' 
 •UT4I/— i. e. " u7U€ss they are such as should be 
 *' placed in the beginning, by themselves.' —To 
 make these words correspond to Mr. Winstanley 's 
 version, another negative seems waDting. 
 
 V 
 
 NOTE 171. 
 
 P. 163. An article marks the 
 
 BEGINNING, OR THE END OF A SENTENCE. 
 
 The commentators all tell us, that this means 
 the prepositive, and die subjunctive article; but 
 none of them have clearly and fairly shewn us, 
 how the one, because it is placed before a uvrd, 
 marks the^ beginning of a sentence or discoursei 
 (Aoror «>;<;«;) or, how tlie other marks the 
 end of it, because it follows the xvord to which it 
 belongs. In the very sentence before us, for 
 example, A^^oy h in tpmn, «V.i;u©' 'H Xoys a^^y,, 
 n TiA<^, »' iip^KTiAoy, inXot—in what sense does the 
 
 subjunctive 
 
 f i) 
 
 f I 
 
 f 
 
€i 
 
 tt 
 
 270 NOTES. 
 
 subjunctive article, 1?, mark the end of the sen- 
 tence — rsx^ Xoyu ? " L article subjonctif," say3 
 Dacier, ** est celui qui marque la fin du discours' 
 
 dest'h-dire, qu'il suit la chose quit designee 
 
 comme, quif leqiiciy — It is easy to explain 
 things in this manner. 
 
 For my part, I see not what is to be made of 
 this, unless we may understand Aristotle to mean 
 only that power of the article, by which, in the 
 Greek language, it distinguishes the subject from 
 the predicate, in certain propositions, and deter- 
 mines the (7rfifer of construction. See Hermes, II. 1. 
 p. 230. — But, then, this is no other than a species 
 of ^Jo^KTju®^, and is, indeed, given by Mr. Harris 
 as one example of the definitive or ascertaining 
 power of the article* 
 
 The second definition of the article, ( — ^uvn 
 
 atrnfA^ to <r\ivriii(riai) I have omitted. It 
 
 is the first definition of the conjunction repeated 
 verbatim. It may, indeed, be true of both ; but 
 if so, it must inevitably follow, I think, either that 
 the two things must be the same, or, that the 
 words are not truly a defnition of either. Yet 
 this passes smoothly with all the commentators I 
 have seen, except Madius and Piccolomini. 
 
 NOTE 172. 
 P. 163. For even in double w^ords, &c. 
 
 Compare cap. ii. and iv. of Aristotle s treatise, 
 
 Ilift 'EgfATivsia;. This is rendered by Piccolomini, 
 
 < w ith 
 
 NOTES. ty^ 
 
 with his usual accuracy, " perochfe nei nomi 
 '' doppij [6 ver composti] non usiamo le parti 
 " d'essi, secondo che, da per se prese, hanno signi- 
 ^ Jicatione: come, (per essempio) in questonome 
 " Theodoro, quella parte (doro) non 6 signifi- 
 " cante." p. 286. 
 
 iC 
 
 u 
 
 €( 
 
 NOTE 173, 
 
 P. 163. Indication of time is not 
 
 INCLUDED, &c. — 
 
 'Ov npOSSHMAlNEI to Tron. See Hermes, I. 6. 
 note (dX p. 96. Aristotle has given a fiiller de- 
 finition of the verb, in the book ^ip* '£/)/.. cap.iii. 
 
 NOTE 174. 
 
 P. 164. Others relate to action oe 
 
 PRONUNCIATION - - -, 
 
 *H h, x»rx T« uVflXf.THca— sc. (TxniAtira : mean* 
 ing the <rxni*»r» Xtfiwf mentioned just before, 
 cap. xix. with which these modes plainly coincide! 
 for the wTurut tv{*aTuv here mentioned are no 
 other than the 'Eyx\,&tK, 7nodes, or moods, of the 
 Grammarians.— [See Hermes, I. 8. p. 144, and 
 particularly the notes there.] K«, x*r« iro.If iy- 
 xAi«if, i, in r,m nTilZEir PHMATIKA2 xaXso-,. 
 Dim. Hal. de Struct. &c. Sect. 6.- But he speaks 
 of the term as applied only to the modes ; for the 
 tenses, Aa^op*. xf'fut, are immediately after men- 
 tioned by him, as not included in that term. But 
 
 Amtotle, 
 
 

 «7t NOTES. 
 
 Aristotle, in the inpi IpfAnv, expressly mentions the 
 ' femes q\so, as tttwctik pn/Aarwy. See cap, iii. Sect.,^. 
 
 NOTE 175. 
 
 P. 164-5. For all discourse is not com- 
 posed OF Verbs and Nouns:— the defi- 
 nition OF MAN, FOR INSTANCE . 
 
 • — 'Ou yoLp aTTflt? Aoy^ ix pn/xarajv xat oyofAOCTUV 
 
 lu^ru pfifAXTuy tUoii. Xoyov, This is very ambiguously 
 expressed. We are left to make out, as well as 
 we can, whether the " definition of man," is re- 
 ferred to as an instance of a sentence without a 
 verb, or of a sentence with both noun and verb. — 
 The construction seems, indeed, to lead more na- 
 turally to the latter interpretation. But the other, 
 I think, is more to Aristotle*s purpose, (for, an 
 example of a sentence with both noun and verb, 
 it was hardly necessary to produce,) and is con* 
 firmed by the following passage in hb book Tnpk 
 
 A»ayxti h TTccyTA \oyoy uvofa^rixoif (every asser- 
 five sentence or speech) U /f»!/x«T©* flvai, u' U 
 
 TTTUfftuf pr/x«T(^ * xai ytt^ ra d^d^uTr^ >^oy^ 
 
 (i.e. o^io-fA^, definition ; for so Xoy(^ is continually 
 used by Aristotle,) Uy fA.n to, Inv, ti, ir«i, if n 
 
 roiisrov nPO2)TE0Hi, kVm Aoy0- mVe^avTiX^*. The 
 
 definition itself, (the same, probably, to which he 
 
 alludes 
 
 • P. 38. c. 
 
 NOTES. 273 
 
 alludes in the passage before us,) follows; it is^ 
 ^uoK Tf^ou ^iTTHv \ Now thcsc tkrce words alone 
 constitute the defmition, and it is of this only that 
 Aristotle here speaks. In the full, assertive sen- 
 tence, Ak6^a;7r(^ In fwoi/ TTi^ov SiTnty, the twO first 
 
 words are no part of the definition itself, but, as 
 Victorius has well observed, only indicate the 
 thing defined. And accordingly, the philosopher, 
 we see, in the above quotation, considers the verb 
 as superadded to the definition. 
 
 However, this sense would be so much more 
 clearly expressed, if the words— oiov, m dyi^uiTra 
 i^itrfx^ — followed, instead of preceding, the words 
 
 «XA Uh^iroti dyiv ptj/xarwy sUai Aoyov, that I should 
 
 hardly doubt of their being misplaced, if this sort 
 of embarrassment were less frequent than it is in 
 Aristotle's writings. 
 
 This whole passage receives much illustration 
 from thajt part of tlie treatise irf^ » 1^^. to which 
 I have referred. A sentence without a verb is 
 what Aristotle calls a significant sentence, but not 
 an assertive sentence, or proposition: i.e. that 
 affirms or denies something, and of which it may 
 be predicated, that it is true, or fdse\ Such 
 only, in that logical work, it was to his purpose 
 to consider; the other, the merely significant 
 
 sentence, 
 
 *• The same definition occurs in other parts of his 
 works; vol. i. p. 167, B.— 237, D.— vol.ii. 920, 92?, 
 
 * See cap. iv. sect. 4 and 5. p. 38. 
 
 VpL. ir. T 
 
174 NOTES. 
 
 sentence ^ he dismisses, as belonging rather to 
 rhetoric and poetry. '0» fxiv iy ixxoi \>^9yoi\^ 
 ^<p£KrOw<rak* ^nro^iyLVii y»^, t IIOIHTIKHS, olnnoTt^x 
 
 NOTE 176. 
 
 P. 165. Significant, as thk woud CleoiT 
 IS, &c. - - - 
 
 It has been observed, that the sense seemed to 
 require an instance of a sentence with only otie 
 significant word ; at least, not composed of both 
 verb and noun, as (ix$^^ts Kx^uu is. But I rather 
 believe, that Aristotle did not ifitend this as aii 
 instance of such a sentence, but merely as an ex- 
 planation of the &n[Monvtiy and xaV acvrx (rnfAAiyn ti, 
 that precede. ** It is not," says he, " essential 
 " to wbat I call Xoy(^, oratio, that it should con- 
 " tain both a noun and a verb, i. e. that it should 
 " be a complete proposition : but some significant 
 part it must have; significant, I mean, as a 
 whole word, separately taken, as Clcon is, for 
 example, in the sentence, Cleon walks; not as 
 making a part of a word^ like ^u^oy in the com- 
 pound name Gio^upoy, which has, indeed, a 
 
 meaning, but not naO' auro — xi^upi<r[M£yoy — bj^ 
 
 itself— dih a word in the sentence." 
 
 That 
 
 it 
 
 a 
 n 
 
 it 
 a 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 ^ He instances in precatory sentences or speeches ;- 
 "^ Ibid. 
 
 NOTES. ay^ 
 
 That this is the meaning, seems probable from 
 
 the chapter in which Aoy^ is defined in the book 
 
 iTifi Epfxfiynx^, For there, as soon as he has given 
 
 the definition, {Aoy<^ ^ gV» (pmn (nj/taj/Tixn „V 
 
 T«v fAipuy TI (rnfMxyrixoy In KEXX2PIXMENON,) he 
 
 immediately proceeds to explain the expressions ; 
 declaring what sort of significant part he means. 
 *' Significant," he says, " as the zvord «\9^w9r(^ is; 
 " that is, x£x,io^i(r(xtyov, by itself -^ not as, ai/QpwTr®*^ 
 '* iV», or ax sVs which signify as assertive sentences, 
 " nor yet, as a syllable, or part of a simple word^ 
 
 (like uV in ^uf,) or, even as a xvord makinst 
 ' part of a compound word *." 
 
 Now, what Ari3totle there expresses fully, he 
 meant, I think, to say, more briefly, in the words, 
 
 HEPOS lAivroh an TI irnfMxivoy l^n ' o^oy iy tw, Bxii^H 
 KAfwv, K\tuy, [sc. cnfAaiyn.] 
 
 See Hermes, I. 2. p. 21, note (d). 
 
 NOTE 177. 
 
 P. 165. A DISCOURSE MAY BE ONE, IN 
 TWO SENSES, &C. 
 
 Compare, vipi EpiM^v, cap, v. p. 38. — Analyt. 
 Post, lib.il cap. 10. p. 169, E.— Metaphys. VII. 4. 
 /?. 910, D. (where he uses tw <njyi)^(i, as equivalent 
 to crvy^a-iAu) and VIII. 6. p. 931, C. 
 
 * Cap.iv. p. 38. 
 
 T 2 
 
 IH 
 
276 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 KOTE 178. 
 
 P. 165. Like many of those used by th? 
 
 MEGALIOTiE . 
 
 I have read, in some ludicrous book, of a 
 country that was " bst by the igmi^ance of geo- 
 " graphersJ' This seems to have been the case 
 of these Megaliotce^ if such a people ever existed. 
 They are nowhere recorded. — Dacier reads, 
 ^fy^tji^okTWk — '^ ceux qui disent de grandes choses: 
 and cites Hesychius — Miya^i^omc — jwiyaXa xe- 
 yo^Tif. But this is 100 distant from the present 
 reading, MsyaXiwrwy. Mr. Winstanley's conjec- 
 ture — /xiy«A«iw^, «c *, is somewhat nearer, and, in 
 other respects, preferable : but it is, 1 think, a 
 strong presumption against its truth, that Aristotle 
 constantly uses oioi>, when he gives an instance ; 
 never, as far as I recollect, «?. 
 
 I have sometimes thought it not very improbable, 
 that the passage might originally have stood thus : 
 T«v fAiyaXA AiwKONtwv : i. e. of those who affect^ 
 aim aty aiefond of, grandeur and pomp of ex- 
 pression; who love hard words, as we say. 
 Nothing more conmion than this sense of ^i^xn^. 
 They who are versed in emendatory criticism, and 
 the theory of transcriptive blunders, know it to 
 have been one source of corruption in antient 
 manuscripts, that the transcribers, when they found 
 
 vacuities 
 
 * Ed. Ox. 1780, p. 298. 
 
 NOTES. 277 
 
 vacuities and lacunce which they could not fill up, 
 rather than reduce the price of their copy by visible 
 imperfection, often chose to write the passage as 
 if there had been no such chasms; especially 
 when that could be done, as in this case, with some 
 passable appearance of a meaning ^ And thus, 
 here, if we suppose the letters I have distinguished 
 by capitals to have been destroyed, or rendered 
 illegible, in the original MS. uVo yonu^ xai fnnuy % 
 they would leave exactly the letters we now 
 have — /x«yaX**i«***T«v. 
 
 If a commentator, harassed by obscurity and 
 perplexity, can now and then relieve his labour by 
 treating a passage of desperate corruption as a 
 riddle, and can amuse himself by guessing the 
 meaning, when he cannot inform his readers by 
 discovering it, who will envy him this harmless 
 privilege f I have here hazarded my guess with 
 others ; but I give it for what it is. None of us, 
 I believe, have yet deprived our successors of the 
 same amusement. The riddle, probably, still 
 remains, and will remain, till the arrival of those 
 " codices expect andi " of which the critics talk so 
 much ; those precious manuscripts, that are always 
 to be waited for, and never to be expected, 
 
 »> See Lc Clerc's Jrs Critlca, P. III. S. 1. C.X VI. 
 
 farag. 7. 
 
 • See the passage from Strabo, given in the preface. 
 
 ^ 
 4 
 
 
 r 
 
 9 
 
 T 3 
 
 m 
 
/ 
 
 278 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 179. 
 
 P. 165. By common words, i mean, &c. -- 
 
 Kupiov. — I have translated this, common^ not 
 propcTy because this last term would convey a 
 wrong idea ; for xu^toy here is plainly opposed, not 
 to /xftafof a only, but to all the other species of 
 words just enumerated : not to what is Jigur at he 
 only, as the Latin proprium is, but to whatever is 
 unusual. This appears indeed from the defini- 
 tion — " a word that every body uses.'' What we 
 call proper words are only one sort of the xuj i* 
 ovofMaroc of Aristotle. The expression must even 
 include all those words, which, though originally 
 metaphorical, are, as Mr. Harris says, " so natu- 
 ** ralized " by common use, " that ceasing to be 
 ^^ metaphors, they are become, (as it were,) the 
 *' proper words *." That is, as an excellent writer 
 has expressed it, " they have nothing of the effect 
 " of metaphor upon the hearer. On the contrary, 
 like proper terms, they suggest directly to his 
 mind, without the intervention of any image, 
 the ideas which the speeiker proposed to convey 
 " by them V 
 
 The same clear opposition of xu^tov to whatever 
 is uncommon in speech appears throughout the next 
 
 chapter, 
 
 * FhtL Irtq. p. 1 98. He gives for instances — the foot 
 of a mountain — the bed of a river. He, also, has ren- 
 dered wfiov by common f p. 191, note, 
 
 ^ P kilos, of Rhet. vol. ii. p. 185, 186. See Demet. 
 IlEft Ef/i>ivEiaj,*Sect. 88. 
 
 €i 
 
 it 
 
 ic 
 
 NOTES. 279 
 
 chapter, where yXwrra, fxirxtpo^x, &c. are all said 
 to be IIAPA TO xu^iov, and included under one 
 common term of ^my.x. — See also Rhet. HI. 2, 
 p. 585, A. , 
 
 NOTE 180. 
 
 P. 166. So THAT THE SAME WORD MAY BE 
 BOTH COMMON AND FOREIGN, &C. 
 
 If xu^tov here meant only native^ in opposition 
 io foreign, (yAwrra) as some commentators have 
 supposed *, it would be arrant trifling to observe, 
 that the same word might be, at the same time,^ 
 yXwTTa and xupjop, i. e. foreign and native, to dif- 
 ferent nations. For it could not possibly be 
 otherwise; as Robortelli observes, and calls the 
 observation, which he explains as Aristotle's, 
 " magnoperh adnotandum, et pulchrum scitu." 
 p\ 246. Dacier follows him : ** Cela ne sgauroit 
 '^ Hre autremcnt, le m^me mot qui est etranger^ 
 " pour celui qui Temprunte, nepeut qu'itre propre 
 " pour celui qui le prater — But, if it utmst be so, 
 why does Aristotle say it may be so? — fi%!zi 
 hyoLtoy ? — The truth is, that ^. foreign word is not 
 necessarily a common word, in his sense of xu^ie>, 
 among the people to whom it is native ; it may, or 
 may not, be so; it cannot, indeed, be to them 
 yXwTTOf, but it may be a metaphorical word, or a 
 word of any of the other species enumerated as 
 nAPA TO xufiov \ — Aristotle seems to have added 
 
 this 
 
 * Robortelli, and Castelvetro after him. ^ Cap. xx\\% 
 
 T 4 
 
 m 
 
a8o NOTES. 
 
 this observation on purpose to prevent the very 
 mistake which tliese expositors have made : td 
 prevent xuptov from being taken merely as the op- 
 posite to y^wTTOf, 
 
 NOTE 181. 
 
 p. 166. A THOUSAND IS A CERTAIN DEFI- 
 NITE 3IANY. 
 
 To ya,^ fAUftov, ttoAu Ir*. — Here, I may venture, 
 I believe, for once, to adopt the positive tone of 
 emendatory criticism. Legendum omnindy voXv TI 
 In. The sense, indeed, no one can mistake : but 
 the text, as it stands, does not express that sense. 
 It says only, " for a thousand is many, which he 
 *' now uses instead of manyr There can be no 
 doubt, that Aristotle added TI here, as in all the 
 other instances, sVava* TI — ipiKnv TI. But, to put 
 the matter beyond all doubt, he afterwards, speak- 
 ing of the same sort of metaphor, says, to yap 
 
 IlakT^f ai/T* T8 IIoAAot, x«t« fAt7»^o^ccv, ilfrrxi' ro 
 
 yx^ riav, nOAT TI. Cap, xxv. — I am surprised that 
 so very obvious an error should have escaped the 
 notice of all the commentators I am acquainted 
 with. 
 
 NOTE 182. 
 P. 167. For here, the Poet uses Ta/A«i^--i 
 
 INSTEAD OF afi;(ra«, &C. 
 
 Here a commentator is not perplexed by a little 
 
 glimmering of light, that promises to shew him 
 
 7 something, 
 
 NOTES. a«| 
 
 something, and shews him nothing; but is relieved 
 at once from all trouble by a total and comfortable 
 obscurity. The quotations are so short, and, in all 
 probability, so incorrect, tliat it seems impossible to 
 apply to them Aristotle's definition of this meta- 
 phor, or to see how, where the Poet has used nxfAttv, 
 dov(ron would have been the proper word, and vice 
 versa. Yet the commentators slide over this diffi- 
 culty. Victorius, however, has noticed it, and, 
 giving up the quotations as inexplicable and incor- 
 rigible, proposes a more intelligible example from 
 
 the Rhetoric, HI. 2. — ro qxxycn, roy /aiv TrritjytMQyrot^ 
 lu;i^f(rSai ' roy h tu)(^ofA£yoy, ?rTw;^fu«v • on ctfAipca 
 
 ctlrfiTug. Dacier has entirely omitted the passage, 
 and substituted another from the Rhet. HI. 11. 
 p. 597, B. — Not, however, that he did not under- 
 stand the passage ; it was an inviolable rule with 
 him always to understand his author : but only, it 
 seems, because the example could not conveniently 
 be expressed in French — " il ne pent fitre traduit 
 *^en ndtre langue." 
 
 Castelvetro gives a very pleasant illustration. 
 He does not pretend to see how rocfxttv and ajuo-ai 
 are put for each other in the Greek examples : but 
 he says, that, to draw, and to cut off^ might be 
 thus metaphorically put for each other; if, for 
 example, \^ e should say, " Take this pruning-hook, 
 '' and draw some branches from the olive-tree; 
 ^^ or, Take this pail, and cut off some water from 
 
 " the 
 
 •f\ 
 
-I 
 
 jS2 n o t e s. 
 
 *' the fountain*." — Undoubtedly any man may 
 speak in this way, who chuses it. 
 
 NOTE 183. 
 P. 167. In the way of analogy, when, of 
 
 FOUR TERMS, &C. 
 
 The difficulty here is, to distinguish clearly this, 
 which Aristotle calls the analogical or proportional 
 metaphor y from the metaphor which precedes it — 
 that from species to species : for as to the two first 
 sorts, that from genus to species, and vice versA, 
 they plainly belong, as has been observed, to the 
 trope since denominated Synecdoche-, the word 
 f*fTi»(popa being clearly used by Aristotle in its most 
 general sense, including all the tropes — all the ways 
 in which a word is transferred to a meaning dif- 
 ferent from its proper meaning. See Cic. Or. 
 cap. xxvii. Of the four species of iA$Ta(po^oci here 
 mentioned, only the two last seem to answer to 
 our METAPHOR — the metaphor founded on some 
 resemblance between the thing from which, and 
 that to which, the term is transferred. 
 
 The difference between these two sorts of me* 
 tapliors, as far as I am able to comprehend it, 
 appears to me to be only this. Each of them is 
 founded on some resemblance; but in the first, 
 the resemblance perceived is between the two 
 
 things 
 
 * '^ Prendi quella falce, c attlgnt de'rami dell' ullvo ; 
 '* o vero, Prendi .quella sccchia, e taglia dell' acqua del 
 
 <( 
 
 foole. 
 
 »> 
 
 P- 4S3« 
 
 NOTES, 
 
 283 
 
 tilings themselves ; in the other, between the re- 
 latians which they, respectively, bear to two other 
 things *. Those are metaphors aV £*7a? im il$©^^ 
 where the likeness is perceived, as Aristotle else- 
 where expresses it, " by the genus f that is, where 
 the commmi quality, which constitutes the likeness^ 
 immediately occurs, and it is, therefore, sufficient 
 simply to substitute the one word for the other. 
 Those are metaphors xar' ivxXoyioLy, where the 
 resemblance is not thus perceived by the common 
 quality y but by the common relation, of the two 
 things; where, therefore, that relation must be 
 pointed out, more or less expressly. Thus, to take 
 Aristotle's own examples, when old age, or rather, 
 an old num, is called '' stubble,'' the resemblance is 
 sufficiently perceived, by a comparison of the thintrs 
 themselves ; in Aristotle's language, we perceive it, 
 
 " by the genus: — iray yocf un-vi ['0/xDp(^] TO ynpas 
 KAAAMHN, iiroina-s fJi-a^Yitriif xeci yyu(nv Sia, t» yiv^q* 
 
 AMOn ya^ AnHNGHKOTA ^ But when old age 
 is called ** evening,'' what strikes us is the resem- 
 blance with respect to two other things, life, and 
 day ; a resemblance of relation, 
 
 la 
 
 * ^ yof ANAAOriA iVoDjj In xoy«, KAI EN TETTAP- 
 SIN EAAXlSTOiS. i. e. *« Analogy, or proportion, is 
 *' equality of ratio, or relation, and requiies four terms at 
 ** leastr Ethic. Nicom. V. 3. 
 
 ** Rhet. III. 10. p. 593. The passage of Homer alluded 
 to is in Od. H. 214, 215. See Harris's PhiloL Inq. 
 p. 191. For the force of the expression, inomn (AsAna-tf, 
 •ce NOTE 22. in vol. i. 
 
 
r. 
 
 I A" 
 
 284 NOTES. 
 
 In this idea of the analogical metaphor I have 
 the concurrence of Piccolomini. " La metafora 
 *' di p7vportio?ie h quella, che sopra la somigUanza 
 *^ del rispetti che kanno Vum cose con ValtrCy sari 
 *' Jondata ;" &c. See his annotations^ p. 305, and 
 his clear and useful, though prolix, Parafrase 
 della Retor. d'Arist. torn. iii. p. 52, &c. In the 
 rest of his explanation he does not satisfy me. 
 
 NOTE 184. 
 
 P. 167. And, sometimes, the proper 
 
 TERM IS ALSO INTRODUCED, BESIDES ITS RE- 
 LATIVE TERM. 
 
 No words can well be more obscure and perplex- 
 ing. Taking them as they are, they seem to admit, 
 fairly, of only one sense — that which Victorius 
 gives them. " Et quandoque apponunt, pro quo 
 ** dicit ad quod est.** That is, as he explains this 
 literal and obscure version, they add, " ad quod 
 " rejertur illud nomen quod omittunt, et pro quo 
 ** aliud vocabulum usurpant.'' n^ortSfao-*, yrfo^ 
 i ir* [sc. TBTo] difi' a Xiyn : i. e. they add, to the 
 substituted word (cup), the word to which the 
 proper word (shield) relates ; i. e. Mars. They 
 not only name cup, instead of shield^ but call it 
 the cup of Mars. 
 
 - My objection to this sense of the passage is, 
 that it seems to confound the analogical metaphor 
 with that from species to species^ in which one 
 
 word 
 
 NOTES. 285 
 
 word is simply put in the room of the other, as 
 xocXotfAn is used in the passage of Homer, referred 
 to by Aristotle as an example of that sort of 
 metaphor * : 
 
 AXX B[jt>7ri/}g ycotKotfiifiv yt O" oiofixi SKTOoocovroi 
 Tivaa-icBiv. - - - - - . - Od. f. 114. 
 
 For if, " sometimes,'' hiort, this addition is made, 
 it is implied, that not only sometimes, but generally^ 
 and for the rmst part, the analogical metaphor is 
 used in the same manner as that aV i\h(; &c. and 
 cup is merely called shield, and old age, evening. 
 But, if I understand the matter rightly, it is 
 essential to this kind of metaphor to express tivo 
 terras, at least, of the four which constitute the 
 analogy ; i. e, to express mth the metaphorical 
 word, either the thing to which the proper word 
 belongs, (as, ecehhig of life,) or, as Aristotle 
 presently after says,' a negative epithet. See 
 NOTE 189, ' ~ 
 
 And the philosoplier himself seems to have said / 
 this, (for I confess the passage is not perfectly 
 clear,) in the following words : AIEI yx^ EK ATOIN 
 Kiyovrxi [sc. a» iiKovii, Comparisons^, nSIIEP *H 
 ANAAOrON META^OPA- iioy, ij a<r7r*?, (po^t^i^y Wi 
 <>IAAH APE02, xai, ro^ov, ^OFMIFH AXOPAOS* 
 
 ,* He does not, indeed, expressly call it, air e/Jsj btti 
 aO^ ; but that it is so, seems sufficiently clear from his 
 expressions, l^oiiKrc iMtl^y^a-iv lia ttt TENOTS — and, AM^Il 
 ya^ aTrpfQnKOTa, which answers to- a^w ya^ a(pi>^iv ri 
 hi, here. 
 
 Pi 
 
286 NOTES. 
 
 iru) fxsv iJv Xiyaa-iv, OTX' 'AITAOTN* to i' tWuu ro 
 
 Thus " capitis nives^,'' for gray hairs ; evening of 
 life ; 7norning of the year ; eye of day ; and. among 
 many instances in the lihetoricy ^*i/a« fotrocXoy — 
 
 Xfifxv rs Utt^aieug — o$^ tuu Xoyu9j &C ^, — The fact, 
 
 indeed, seems to be, that this analogical metaphor 
 is only a way of stating metaphors founded on re- 
 semblance*, when that resemblance, depending 
 wholly, or chiefly, on relation, would not be obvious, 
 and the metaphor, consequently, would be harsh 
 and obscure, unless the relation were, by some 
 means or other, pointed out. — Victorius himself 
 allows, that, in Aristotle's own examples, the mere 
 substitution of ci/p for shield, and of evening for 
 old age, would be " nimis durum'' 
 
 ♦ I think, 
 
 «*• 
 
 ^ Rhet. III. II. p. 596, E. * Quintil. VIII. 6. 
 
 ^ Rhet. III. 10. — Instances, abound in Homer: — 
 mox^ v»?©- — kQa^ af«fi?$ — TTOifUva ?\aci}v — (TTr^ia ttv^^ — 
 a seed o{ fire ^ for a spark. (Od. E. 490.) &c. — See the 
 Life of Homer, commonly attributed to Dion, Halic, and 
 given in vol. v. of the ed. of Homer by Ernestus, p. 162. 
 
 ♦ It seems, that any instance of the metaphora a 
 specie &c. may be stated analogically : thus, '* old age, we 
 '' may say, is to man, what stubble is to corn,'^ &c. And, 
 on the other hand, converting an analogical metaphor 
 into a metaphor trom species to species, we may say, 
 evening and old age are, both of them, ends of certain por-^ 
 tions of time* — It was, perhaps, the vicinity of these two 
 species of metaphor, and their convertibility, that induced 
 later writers to drop the distinction, though they mad« 
 many other distinctions which Aristotle did not. 
 
 NOTES. 287 
 
 1 think, then, that Aristotle meant to say, and, 
 in some way or other, had said, '' And sometimes^ ^ 
 (fwoTi,) now and then, for the sake of clearness, 
 
 " they add the proper word, (the word, a\6' i 
 
 ^^ for which, the metaphorical word is put,) to^ 
 " or besides, the ^^o? h in—/, e. that to which the 
 *' proper word relates:' They not only call the 
 shield, the cup of Mars, but they mention shield ■ 
 also, and say, the shield is the cup oi Mars: or, 
 taking the other instance, old age is the evening of 
 Ife \ Thus all will follow naturally : KAI Inon— 
 And, sometimes, they add the pi^oper term, &c. 
 £woK h, HK Inv ovo/xa — dvocXoyoy, — But, in some 
 analogical metaphors, there is no proper term ; in 
 that case, therefore, tlie metaphor cannot be so 
 used : yet it may be used in the first, and most 
 common way, as well as if such proper term sub- 
 sisted ; it is still an aiialogictd metaphor, and may 
 be used as such \--^hy ^ttov, o>oiwff [j. e. aj/aXoy«f, 
 as Castelvetro rightly explains it,] \iy}n<nTou^. 
 Thus, in the metaphor exemplified, of sowins;, 
 applied to the sun, we may say the sun sows his 
 rays, though we cannot assign any proper term, 
 for which soivs is put — any word appropriated td 
 the dispersion of light from the sun, as, to soxv, is 
 appropriated to the dispersion of seed. — Such 
 
 appears 
 
 • Thus Homer uses the analogical metdphor in the 
 following line : .. 
 
 Ov^ m^i e^£Tixa, ra tb Trrt^a vYivo-iTraonou, Od. A. 124. 
 ' '' Oars, which are die v.'ings of shipsj' 
 
NOTES. 
 
 appears to vnt to be the connection of this 
 passage. 
 
 It v^ ill, undoubtedly, be objected, that the sense 
 I would give the words fr^ofiii»<n &c. cannot be 
 fairly obtained from them as they now stand : and 
 I confess it cannot; unless we might be allowed 
 to render the words thus, taking v^o^ as a repeti- 
 tion of the preposition in ir(o<rrittcc(r^9 : '' they add 
 " the word, for which they use, or saj/, the meta- 
 ** phorical word, (ay9* « AEFEI,) to 6 ESTI — to 
 " what it is — to the word which is used: they 
 " add the word that should be to the word that 
 ^' is.'' But this appears to me so harsh and im- 
 probable a construction, that I would rather sup- 
 pose the passage to be defective. Perhaps it 
 might originally be thus : — Ka* Ivion v^oa-rii. dpV 
 a \eyei, IIAPA [to] w^oq o iV* — i. e. besides adding 
 the thing to which the proper term relates ^ But 
 there seems to be still another fault in the passage 
 I cannot reconcile the plural Tr^oo-rtSfao-ii/, with the 
 singular, hiyu. Goulston renders " apponitf and 
 I am surprised that no MS. should exhibit fr^otr^ 
 T»9fi(riv. That Af-yEi is right, is highly probable, 
 from the singular verb i^ft, repeatedly used here, 
 and the tliTQiy afterwards: ^I tuv icni^x Einoi — 
 
 X. T. aXX, 
 
 ^ The transcribers, seeing two prepositions, va^a Tr^o^, 
 unusually put together, and not understanding the niative 
 sense of ^rfoj o, might reject the first as redundant. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 289 
 
 NOTE 185. 
 
 P. 167. The shield, the cup of Mars, &c. 
 ^locXfif, A^fwf— . The (pisc\n seems to have been 
 a large, expanded, (Uwirc^Xov,) kind of vessel, like 
 a ewer. See //. ^. 270, and the notes. Hesych. v. 
 A/x^ia£T(^.— It.had also, sometimes, an o>^aAof, 
 or umdo. See Athen. p. 501. It had probably, 
 tlierefore, some resemblance to a shield, which 
 makes the metaphor appear less strange ; as Pic- 
 colomini has remarked, p. 306: who also ob- 
 serves, very well, that this kind of metaphor is 
 then most clear and perfect, when the resemblance 
 of relation is aided by some degree of resem- 
 blance between the things themselves: and that 
 here, for example, if iarice were used instead of 
 shield, the metaphor would be spoiled, though the 
 common relation would still subsist. 
 
 This seems to have been a favourite instance 
 of this sort of metaphor ; for it occurs several 
 times in the Rhetoric. See III. 4. p. 588, and 
 11. p. 596, E. In the former of these passages 
 Aristotle says, that an analogical metaphor ought 
 to admit of inversion : thus, says he, if we may 
 call the cup the shield of Bacchus, we may, with 
 equal propriety, call the sliield the cup of Mars^ 
 But Demetrius observes, alluding to that passage 
 of the Rhetoric, that this is not the case of every 
 such metaphor : ivH my ivu^uoiy fxiy mq Un^^ tto^x 
 
 VOL. II. yj ^ ij^^ 
 

 290 NOTES. 
 
 i'jruiPnoi.y iWuv, Sect, 79* 
 
 NOTE 186. 
 
 P. 167. Or as Empedocles has ex- 
 pressed IT, Life's setting sun. 
 
 Auo-/xaf /3t8. — Victorius has pointed out this 
 expression in Plato's sixth book De Le gibus ^ 
 where the Athenian says, rV^^f ^' ^*' ^wc/tAaK tb p«, 
 Jt ^£, wV 'Tr^o(; i!/x«f, v£o**: probably alluding, in 
 Plato's usual manner, to the very passage of Em- 
 pedocles. See also iElian, Var. Hist. II. 34. — 
 fV* Juc/xaj? liTixiv: where, as the metaphor was 
 sufficiently explained by the subject of the con- 
 versation, the word |3i8 is not added. Victorius 
 remarks, also, the (3i8 ATNTOS n^yxK; of /Eschy- 
 lus, Jgamem. v. 1132. The rest of that passage 
 is very obscure*'; but this e-xpression seems, 
 clearly enough, to describe the dying eye, tjiat 
 opens, for the last time, upon the light : 
 
 rig iitoT OLV^igy uXXoc vvv 'Travvg-ocTOv, 
 
 Euiip. J/ccst, 203, 
 
 or; 
 
 * 11. B. 824. 
 
 . * Ed. Serr. torn. \\.p. 770. 
 
 * I am inclined to read, and point the passage thus : 
 
 ...--• aT£ Mtl ^0^1 TTTWO^iMOTS 
 
 kc. «* such as destroys, dispatches (as wc say,) those whcj 
 « fall by the spear, in thi last gleams of setting life'* 
 
 NOTES 29, 
 
 or; in the finest picture of the kind, I tliink, that 
 Poetry affords, 
 
 " oculisque errantibus, alto 
 
 Quaesivit coelo lucem, ingemuitque reperta* 
 
 jEn. IV, 691. 
 —The poetical reader, I believe, will pardon me, 
 if I wander so much farther from my subject, as 
 to take occasion, from these beautiful passages, 
 to point out three lines of Petrarch, which shew^ 
 that his powers were not confined to the expres- 
 sion of amorous tenderness, but were capable of 
 rising, on occasion, to the true sublime. In the 
 sonnet, '' Sclammtar augeUi:' &c^ written after 
 the death of Laura, he imagines himself to hear 
 her voice, in his solitude, consoling him for hia 
 loss, in these lines : 
 
 Di me non pianger tu ; ch' i miei dl fersi 
 Morendo eterni; e, nel eterno lume, 
 Quando mostrai di chiudtt gli' occhi, apersi !— 
 
 NOTE 187. 
 
 P- 167. There is no proper analo- 
 gous TERM, &C. 
 
 Oyo^x nufAtyoK—KeifAiyov, here, is equivalent to 
 xuf tcv ; a word established bj/ common usage.— En, 
 il MH KEIMEN0I2 c.o^«^, ^^^rx^^ o^oy'' UXccrJ, 
 
 hs^ctrxioy, Toy o^pBxXfxoy. ^«, y«^ ^Va^,^ 
 
 TO MH £1X1002.— Topic. VI. 2. p. 242.— See 
 also, Categ . c. vii. p. 23, C. 
 
 « 
 
 f Ed. di Gesualdo, p. 288, 
 U 2 
 
292 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 188. 
 
 p. 168. sowing abroad 
 
 His heaven-created flame. — 
 
 Z?riif^v flioxTir«v ^Aoy«. — Part of an Iambic 
 verse, and probably from some Tragic Poet. The 
 commentators quote Virgil's " Spargebat lumine 
 " terras." This, however, is not exactly appli- 
 cable, because spargere does not, I think, appear 
 to have been the proper, specific word, for sowingy 
 as ctrn^nv was. The passage of Lucretius is 
 more apposite : 
 
 Sol etiam summo de vertice dissupat omnes 
 
 Ardorem in partes, et lumine conserit area, 
 
 II. 211. 
 
 Every reader will recollect Milton's beautiful ap- 
 plication of this metaphor to the stars : 
 
 And sotivdvi\i\i stars the heav'n, thick as a field. — 
 
 P. L. VII. 358. 
 
 — and to the dew-drops, metaphorized into 
 pearls, v. 1. 
 
 But the idea of pourings applied to the great 
 fountain of light, seems both a more just, and a 
 more elevated, metaphor. It is happily touched 
 by Virgil in this line : — 
 
 Jam sole infuso, jam rebus luce retectis. 
 
 ^n, IX. 461, 
 
 • — 0. sketch which Thomson has finely filled up, 
 and finished : 
 
 - - • - young 
 
 NOTES. 293 
 
 .young dscy pours in apBLCCy 
 
 And opens all the laumij prospect wide : 
 The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top, 
 Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn ; 
 Blue, thro' the dusk, the smoking currents shine. 
 
 Summer, 52. 
 
 In his hi/m?i, he has taken up the metaphor in a 
 sublimer tone : 
 
 Great source of day ! best image here belov^ 
 
 Of thv Creator, ever pouring wide. 
 
 From world to worlds thexital ocean round! v. 66. 
 
 — ^To which I cannot restrain myself from adding 
 a fine passage of the same kind in the hymn of 
 Diont/sius to the sun : 
 
 Aktivu TToXug^itpov djjiTrXeKuv, 
 
 AiyXug ttoXu^b^zboc * riAFAN 
 
 Ue^i yociocv uTracocv sXi(r(ruv. 
 
 nOTAMOI Je a-edev nTPO£ AMBPOTOT 
 
 TiKTHcriv STTTjouTov dcfjcsoixv. 
 
 * M. Burette prefers Troxuxe^hay a reading of a French 
 MS.; and he translates it, " une ric/ie source." He 
 skou/d have said, *^ a cunning source;" for I do not believe 
 there is good authority for any other sense of vo>^s§^r}i. — 
 See M^m, de VAcad, dts Inscript. tome vii. Dissert, sur la 
 Melopee, &cc. — The reader may see the hymn, at the. 
 end of the Ox. Jratus, and in Dr. Burney's Hist, of 
 Music, vol. i. p. 90, with a translation. There is, also, 
 a translation in Dodsley's Miscellany, vol. v. But, how- 
 ever partial I may be thought, I must give the bays on 
 this occasion to my friend. He is no professed Poet . 
 but his version has, surely, far more of the animation, 
 
 enthusiasm, 
 
 U3 
 
 <* #1 
 
294 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 189. 
 
 P, 168. The wineless cup.- . * 
 
 Aomy, This emendation of Victorius, (instead 
 of «AAa olrdy the reading of all the editions and 
 MSS.) seems confirmed, beyond all doubt, by 
 Rhet, III. 6. p. 590, A. and 11. p. 597, A. 
 
 Metaphors, from tlieir nature, are in danger of 
 being obscure, or forced, though it is essential to 
 their beauty and effect, that they should be clear 
 and apposite. For this purpose, a metaphor may 
 be guarded in various ways. If the simple sub- 
 stitution of the improper, for the proper, term, 
 would be obscure, or harsh, the metaphor may be 
 converted into an image^ or comparison * ; it may 
 be used analogically, and we may say, ^iaXn 
 APEOS, or (piaXii AOINOS ; or, if tliat be not suf- 
 ficient for perspicuity — that is, if the meaning be 
 not sufficiently pointed out by the manner, or 
 circumstances, in which the expression is intro- 
 duced, we may join these, (^iax?j Af£©j aoi^0*,) 
 or even add to either of them the proper word 
 
 itself \ 
 
 There 
 
 h III i n I .11 ■! I ■■ I I ■ ■ III I ■■ ■ ■ I. .« 
 
 enthusiasm, and solemnity of the original. No Persian, 
 indeed, could have entered more tlioroughiy into the 
 spirit of solar adoration. 
 
 * See Demet. Sect. 80.— And, again, Sect. 86, of the 
 ^negative epithet used for the same purpose. 
 
 * See above, note 184. 
 
 NOTES. 295 
 
 There is a fine instance of tiiis negative mode 
 of explaining a metaphor, in Isaiali, li. 21. "Thou 
 *' drunken, but not with wvwe*." 
 
 The same end is often answered by an epithet, 
 affirming of the thing expressed some quality be- 
 longing to the thing signified] tlius, ships are 
 ^'Jloating bulwarks V' and the lyre a " chorded 
 shell," where Dryden has made the same use of the 
 affirmative epithet, chorded, that Theognis did of 
 the negative, ax°f<^^? ^^ ^^Js metaphorical expres- 
 sion for a bow — (po^fjuyj^ d^o^^^^ Sometimes 
 the explanatory epithet is itself a metaphor; as 
 m the wTs^uiTotg ti^iAX(ri of Euripides; — " wi?fged 
 " chariots." Here we have a double metaphor; 
 chariot for ship, and wing for sail. 
 
 It should be remembered, that these negative 
 epithets are very common in the Greek Poets. 
 Victorius points out many instances : as xw/aov 
 
 *\auAoTJfcToi/, Eurip. Phceniss, 818. — fltatrov a|3«x- 
 X«UTOj/, Orest. 319.— juuj/UTTj^gH a>9fyxT8, ^sch. 
 
 humen, 245. — aVrf^otf 7r«T7i/Aa(r*v, ibid. 230, &c 
 
 NOTE 190. 
 p. 168. - - - AN INVENTED WORD, &C. 
 
 Between this and the preceding definition Aristotle 
 must have placed that of Ko(r/A(^ — the ornament ^ 
 or ornamental word. That it was purposely passed 
 
 over 
 
 * See Bp. Lowth's Comm. on Isaiah. 
 
 "" Mr. Mason's Ode to the Naval Officers. 
 
 ^ Demet. Sect. 86.— Arist. Rhet.III. 11. p. 597. 
 
 U4 
 
 fc 
 
296 NOTES. 
 
 over by him is hardly credible. This is, most 
 probably, one of the lamentable iix(i^u)fAar» that 
 Strabo talks of*. 
 
 The commentators differ widely as to the 
 meaning of xco-^a^. Castelvetro says, the word 
 admits, here, of five difterent senses, which he 
 sets up, like nine-pins, for tlie pleasure of knocking 
 them all down. — Tiie only reasonable account of 
 the matter seems to be that given by Dacier from 
 Victorias. It seems clear enough, that what 
 Aristotle here calls xjo-^^*, is included, at least, 
 under what he cedls olynkoy in the Rhetoric. For 
 he says, at the end of the next chapter {cap. xxii.) 
 speaking of those species of xvords that are used in 
 prose, that they are these three, to xu^*ev, >ww /uira- 
 f o^a, xai KOSMOX : and in the Rhetoric, after 
 referring to the very enumeration of words in this 
 chapter, and setting aside such as he calls poetical, 
 (i. e. yAwTTflt*, $iv\x oyofjuxra, 3cc.) he says, TO (Tf 
 
 xu^iok, xai TO OIKEION, xa» iJt,ira(po^xi, fxayon Xf*"*- 
 fAOk TT^of Tfiy T«i> 4/*Awk Xoy(a¥ Ai^ik* TrxvTig yx^ 
 fASTx^o^m^ fixXtyoyrxt, xai tok OIKEIOIS, xje< to»9 
 
 xvfioig \ And these 9lx,ux oyofAxrx, again, seem 
 plainly synonymous with iTnierxy mentioned pre- 
 sently after : — Sn Ji hxi ra iVkitTX xa* rxg jus- 
 
 T«^. X. t. X. — By oixfiflt and Ifr^iiTx, Aristotle seems 
 to have expressed tlie genus, of which, xo(rjLc(gp, the 
 ornajnerital or embellishing epithet, \^ as a species. 
 
 But 
 
 * See the passage in die Preface, 
 t Rhet. III. 2. 585. 
 
 NOTES. 297 
 
 But as he -has not, by any means, explained him- 
 self fully, nor given any definition either of olyaioi, 
 or iTTihroy, the mist which he has left upon this 
 subject must remain. I shall only remark, that 
 the word xoa-fA^ is once, (and I think but once,) 
 used by him in his Rhetoric, apparently in the 
 same sense as in this chapter. For, speaking of 
 the propriety of diction, and its correspondence to 
 the subject, he observes, that " an ornament should 
 " not be applied to a mean word ; for this," says 
 he, " has the appearance of burlesque ; which is 
 " the case with Cleophon, who has used expres- 
 " sions of this sort as ridiculous, as it would be 
 '' to talk of an '' avgvst Jig-tree ':' The word 
 xoiTfxf^ here, and the example by which he explains 
 it, seem to prove, that xocfM^^ in the treatise on 
 Poetry, means such an epithet as embellishes or 
 elevates the thing to which it is applied. For 
 I do not imagine that the term includes what th6 
 Grammarians call perpetual epithets, such as 
 " humida vina,"' yxXx Xz\jy.ov, Sec. because Aristotle 
 expressly says, that the xo<r/x(^ is used in common 
 speech : now tliese redundant epithets are banish- 
 ed, both by him, and by Quintilian^ even from 
 oratory ; much more from ordinary discourse. 
 
 I t 
 
 *' — fim km Tft) itna£i ovofMri kirn KOIMOD- a h fm, 
 
 $i BiTreiiv iv, nOTNiA XTKH.—III. 7. p. 590. 
 
 ' Rhet. III. 3. p. 587, C.^Quintil. Be Instlt. Or. 
 VIII. 6. 
 
 

 itgS NOTES. 
 
 It may be objected, as it has been objected by 
 Piccolomini (p. 337), that, as an epithet may, at 
 the same time, be ^, foreign word, a metaphorical^ 
 an extended, or of any of the other sorts, it could 
 not be enumerated by Aristotle as a distinct species 
 of words among the rest. But the truth is, that 
 he is not there enumerating so many distinct species 
 oj wordsy which exclude each other, but only a 
 number of distinct properties of words, several of 
 which may subsist together in the same word. 
 Thus, an extended word may, manifestly, be, at 
 the same time, a metaphorical, or q. foreign word, 
 or both : a metaphorical word n:iay be, also, an 
 mvented, extended, altcTcd word, &c. But none 
 of these words can be, at the same time, av^ioc, 
 common ^vords ; and the only exclusive distinction 
 that Aristotle intended, is between the common 
 word, and the others ; all of which are words, ou 
 some account or otl^er, uncommon^ 
 
 NOTE 191. 
 P. 169. Nouns are divided, &c. 
 
 In passages where great corruption and little 
 importance meet, a commentator may be reason- 
 ably indulged in silence, or brevity. What all this 
 has to do in the midst of an analysis of poetical 
 language, as distinguished from that of prose, I 
 confess myself totally unable to see. 
 
 llie defects of the passage have been fully 
 
 pointed out by almost all the aimotators. See 
 
 7 Mr. Win- 
 
 NOT £ S. 299 
 
 Mr. Winstanley s note, p. 300, ed. Ox, 1780. — 
 But we have lately been told, that all the com- 
 mentators have entirely mistaken the sense of tho 
 passage, and supposed it, without reason, to be 
 imperfect, merely because they did not see, that 
 Aristotle here speaks, not as a Grammarian, but 
 as a Philosopher, and is considering, not the con- 
 ventional gender of verbal inflection, but the real 
 gender of the things signified. Thus, it is admitted, 
 indeed, that all words ending in v, and ^, are not 
 masculine ; yet, if we examine the nature of the 
 things denoted by words of those terminations, we 
 shall find, it seems, that they are masculine, though 
 the words themselves are regarded as feminine *, 
 Let us try, then. M^tti^, for example, ends in ^. 
 Did Aristotle's philosophy lead him to consider a 
 tnother as of the masculine gender ? 
 
 NOTE ,192. 
 
 P. 170. The excellence of diction con* 
 
 SISTS IN BEING PERSPICUOUS, WITHOUT BEING 
 MEAN. 
 
 hili<a<; d^srn—i. e. of diction, or langua^re, in 
 general; not, '' elocutiojiis Poeticce^' as Goulston 
 and others render it. For Aristotle gives the same 
 definition of the excellence of oratorical diction, 
 
 in 
 
 * JNon enim omnia quae desinunt in v et p sunt 
 ^* masculina ; nisi ad sensum earum rerum quas denotant 
 '' respic'tas, qui mas est, licet ipsa nomina foeminina ha- 
 '* beantur:' Ed, Cantab, ljSs> p. 156. 
 
tn 
 
 \i 
 
 300 NOTES. 
 
 in his Rhetoric ; adding, only, with respect to the 
 degree of elevation, such a restriction as liis subject 
 there required *. Now had he intended here a 
 definition of the language of Poetry, as discri- 
 minated from that of Prose, he would hardly have 
 confined himself to two characters common td 
 both ; viz. that it should be perspicuous, and yet 
 not nteariy or low, like colloquial language, con- 
 sisting only of common and proper words, without 
 metaphors, or any of the other ornamental words 
 which he enumerates ; some of which he makes 
 essential to the excellence {oi^imv) and proper ele- 
 vation, even of prose elocution ^. For, that this 
 is the force of rowKuvr^, is clear from his own ex- 
 planation. 
 
 Still, it is obvious to ask, w^hy the philosopher, 
 when his subject was the excellence of poetic 
 diction, should thus set out with a general defi- 
 nition, instead of giving us, at once, the definition 
 oiihe species. — The reason, I suppose, was, that 
 he conceived \X\^ poetic to differ from the rhetorical 
 ^ language, only in the degree of elevation above 
 ordinary speech *" ; and to define degrees is not 
 ^asy. Nor, indeed, was even this difference com- 
 mon to all Poetry. If the diction of the Dithyr- 
 ambic and other Lyric kinds, and the Heroic, 
 with their pompous apparatus of compound epi- 
 thets, foreign and antiquated words, and boldness 
 
 of 
 
 » Rhet. III. 2. p. 584. ^ See Rhet. III. 2. p. 585, 
 ' See the ch. of the Rhet. last referred to. 
 
 .NOTES. 301 
 
 of metaphor, rose far above the highest elevation 
 of prose diction ; on the other hand, that of Tra- 
 gedy, we know, frequently descended, in its lowest 
 parts, even below what Aristotle assigns as the 
 proper level of rhetorical speech, to a style dif- 
 fering fi-om common speech in no other circum- 
 stance but that of metre \ — Dacier, with tlie stiff 
 and inflexible dignity of French Tragedy before 
 his eyes, appears to have been shocked at the 
 expression, /au roLirnyyi ; for he tmnslates, not the 
 words only, but the ideasy of his author, into 
 French : *' La vertu de Texpression consiste dans 
 " la nettet^ et dans la noblesse." 
 
 NOTE 193. 
 P. 170. Such is the Poetry of Cleo- 
 
 PHON - - -, 
 
 See note 14. in vol. i. From what Aristotle says 
 of this Poet in the Rhetoric ', it appears, that he 
 sometimes variegated his vulgarity with a dash of 
 bombast. He gave fine epithets to low words. The 
 fuTjAfff 0J/0/U106, there, agrees with what is said of 
 him here. 
 
 What is there said of Cleophon, La Motte says 
 of Homer himself. — " Homere emploie quel- 
 '' quefois les mots les plus vils, et il les releve 
 " aussitot par des epithet es magnifiques ^." It must, 
 
 indeed, 
 
 ^ ■ rr T- - -Til- r i 
 
 ^ See what is said at the end of this chapter, {cap, xxii.) 
 about the Tragic and other species ; and note 209. 
 * III. 7. — See NOTE 190, p. 297. »> Disc, sur I'lliade. 
 
302 NOTES. 
 
 indeed, be confessed, that, after all the apologies 
 of critics and commentators, Homer s At©» uf o^- 
 P^ — " divine swineherd'' — has not, to our ears, 
 a much better effect than irorvta <ruxu. The only 
 reasonable way of defending Homer, is, surely, to 
 content ourselves with saying, in general, that the 
 expression could not have the same incongruous 
 appearance in Homer's time ; as, in that case, he 
 certainly would not have used it. At least, this 
 would be a better apology, than to assert, with 
 Boileau, tliat (rv|3a;T»if is one of ih^ finest words in 
 the Greek language ^" 
 
 f 
 
 NOTE 194. 
 
 P. 170. And that of Sthenelus. 
 
 This seems to explain a fragment of Aristo- 
 phanes, in which the Poet, alluding probably to 
 
 the 
 
 ^ Reflex. 9, sur Longin. — '* II n'y a peut-etre pas dans 
 " le Grec deux plus beaux mots que av^mrrtg & ^hkoX^T — 
 Le Bossu, the admired Le Bossu, apologizes in a different 
 way. The passage is a morsel of such rare and exquisite 
 absurdity, that I cannot witlihold it from the reader. 
 ** Nous trouvons de grandes bassesses dans les termes de 
 " chaudrons & de marmites, dans le sang, dans les graisses, 
 " dans les intestins & autres parties des animaux ; par- 
 *' ceque tout cela n'est plus que dans nos cuisines & dans 
 " nos boucheries, & que ces choses nous font bondir le 
 " coeur. Et nous ne prenons pas garde, que tout cela, au 
 ^* temps d'Homere et dc Virgile, ctoii au gout du S, Esprit 
 *< memey qui ria jamais pu r avoir mauvais ; que Dieu 
 " avoit tres-soigneusement ordonn^ toutes ces choses a 
 «* Moise," &c. Traits du Poeme Epique, VI. 8. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 303 
 
 the flatness and insipidity of the diction of 
 Sthenelus, as wanting the poetic seasoning of me- 
 taphor, &c. introduces some hungry fellow saying, 
 that " he could make shift to eat even some of the 
 *' words of Sthenelus, if they zvere but dipped in 
 " salt, or vinegar.'' 
 
 Koit TTug syco ZSeveXn (potymfjC ccv cr^ftx rt, 
 
 Athen. ix. irut, 
 NOTE 195. 
 
 P. 170. An ^Enigma, if composed of 
 
 METAPHORS — . 
 
 '* Ut modicus autem atque opportunus ejus usus 
 " illustrat orationem, ita, frequens et obscurat et 
 " taedio complet ; continuus vero in allegoriam et 
 *^ (Enigma exit."—Quintil. VIII. 6. 
 
 NOTE 196. 
 
 P. 170. The essence of an ^Enigma 
 
 CONSISTS, &c. 
 
 I can neither assent to the emendation pro- 
 posed by Mr. Winstanley, nor see the least want of 
 any emendation. The passage appears to me 
 perfectly clear and unexceptionable, as it is. T» 
 iiTA^X^yrx must, by no means, be joined with aV»- 
 yoLTx. It evidently means here, in a sense very 
 usual, things that actually exist — i.e. are true. 
 
 As, Rhet. II. 25, Xmitxi it xoci rx <rn[A.nx, - - - 
 
 xay J iwx(x,ovTx : where, ifrx^x^vrx is synonymous 
 
 with 
 
 ft. 
 
304 NOTES. 
 
 with dxmhq, in lib, i. cap. ii. p. 5 1 7 — Xvrov ^f, xotp 
 AAHeES if. 
 
 The passage is accurately and closely rendered 
 by Piccoloniini. " La forma e Tessentia deir 
 *' enigma consiste in questo, clie nel dir cose, che 
 " VERAMENTE siANO, si congiunghino imieme 
 " cose cK appaiano impossibUi h star iyisienier — 
 And this is an exact definition of an 'lenigma — 
 such an ajnigrna, at least, as Aristotle means. But 
 in the other way of constructing the passage, which 
 is that of Castelvetro, and some other interpreters, 
 it is no definition at all. For if the essence of a 
 riddle consists merely in " putting together things 
 " that are incompatible and impossible,'' — rot uVa^ - 
 yoyrix, dSvvotra trukav^ai — then the Italian Poet made 
 a riddle, when he described a man fighting after he 
 was cut in two : 
 
 - - - - - del colpo non accorto, 
 
 Andava combattendo, ed era morto *, 
 
 !*«. 
 
 > 
 
 NOTE 197. 
 
 P. 170. Now THIS CANNOT BE EFFECTED BY 
 THE MERE ARRANGEMENT OF THE WORDS, &C. 
 
 KccTOt fxti/ nv rnit ruv oi/Ojtxarwk (rvvSiCiV. — Hcinsius — 
 rri¥ Twv KTPIX2N oifOfAocriov — . But the xu^toif oyoiAiZy 
 
 as I have already observed, is, throughout, opposed 
 by Aristotle, not to fxirapo^x only, but to all the 
 other words. He would hardly, therefore, have 
 
 used 
 
 ♦ Berni, Orlando Innamorato, lib, ii. canto 24, stanza 60. 
 
 NOTES. 305 
 
 used it here in a different sense, as opposed to 
 metaphor only. If any emendation were neces- 
 sary, I should tliink AAAIiN ivofAxruy more pro- 
 bable *. But perhaps no word is wanting. Aristotle 
 bad used the expression, a^Myxroe, XTNA^AI — '* to 
 " put together things impossible." This might 
 lead to suppose, that an aenigma might be made 
 by the mere <n;v6f(r<? lyQ^AXTm — by a certain arrange-- 
 ment or construction of the words only. Therefore 
 he adds—" this cannot be done by the mere 
 " arrangement of the words ; by the metapkancal 
 ** use of them it may." 
 
 As this sense seems sufficiently clear **, supposes 
 no defect in the text, and, after all, coincides, in 
 the main, with that of Heinsius, (for we must ne- 
 cessarily understand, an arrangement of words not 
 metaphorical—) I have adopted it in my trans- 
 lation, afl^r Dacier, and Batteux. 
 
 * So, I find, Piccolomini translates: — <« dell' altre 
 parole.*' 
 
 ^ It seems also to resnit, most naturally, from Aristotle's 
 expression; in which, itflrra t)iv t«v 'ONOMATXIN 2TN- 
 OESIN, and, uarra METAOOPAN, seem opposed :— " by 
 '' comtruction-^hy metaphor ^-^K he had written Kara 
 w T«v AAAHN (or KTPmN) ovofjL. cuvd, he would pro- 
 bably have written also — uara h m rm Mfra^o^nN 
 ($c. awQi7tv.) 
 
 €>', 
 
 VOL. IX, 
 
3<^ 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. 
 
 NOTE 198. 
 P. 170. A MAN I ONCE BEHELD, &C. 
 
 See Rhet. III. 2. p. 586, where this is called 
 an approved, or admired, riddle : — ii^ tw alviyixar^ 
 Tw £ue^oxtj!x8i/T4 — . I wish it may ti^oKiiMnv with a 
 modern reader. In Athenaeus another line ap- 
 pears : 
 
 AvSo bISoV TTVDl X'^'kKOV BTT UVB^l KOXXvi(rOCVTX, 
 
 'OuTW cvyycoXXcog cSg^B (rvvocifjLU ttoieiv. 
 
 Lib, ix. p. 452. 
 
 But Casaubon seems right in supposing this pen- 
 tameter to have been a modern addition ; for it is 
 not found, I believe, in any more an tient writer. 
 Even in Plutarch, I observe, that the hexameter 
 not only appears by itself, as in Aristotle, but is 
 plainly given as the whole. See his Si/mposium, 
 p. 267, ed. H. St. It appears from that passage 
 to have been the production of a lady, Eumetis. 
 I doubt whether, in these " degenerate days," it 
 would have gained her a prize in the Ladys 
 
 Diary. 
 
 The Greeks were fond of these puzzles. The 
 reader may find some curious specimens of this 
 sort of wit in JthencEus, X. 448, &c, 
 
 NOTE 199. 
 
 P. 171. As OLD Euclid did, objecting, &c. 
 
 Fontenelle talks in the same way. " Du terns 
 
 " d'Homere c'^toit une grande merveille qu'un 
 
 ** bomrae 
 
 fC 
 
 « 
 
 ii 
 
 « 
 
 <6 
 
 l( 
 
 U 
 
 iC 
 
 €C 
 
 i( 
 
 4€ 
 
 It 
 
 NOTES. 307 
 
 homme pflt assujettir son discours k des me- 
 
 sures, k des sillabes longues et breves, & faire 
 
 €n m^me terns quelque chose de raisonnable. 
 
 On donnoit done aux Poetes des licences infinies, 
 
 & on se tenoit encore trop heureux d avoir des 
 
 vers. Homere pouvoit parler dam un seul vers 
 
 cinq langues differentes; prendre le dialecte 
 
 Dorique quand Tlonique ne I'accommodoit 
 
 pas ; au defaut de tous les deux, prendre I'At- 
 
 tique, TEolique, ou le commun; c'est-h-dire, 
 
 " parler en m^me terns, Picard, Gascon, Nor- 
 mand, Breton, 8^ Francois commun. II pouvoit 
 allonger un mot sil itoit trop court, Vaccourcir 
 s'il itoit trop long; personne n'y trouvoit k 
 
 '' redire *." ^ 
 
 But, could this ingenious and sensible writer 
 seriously su^^ose, thai the language of Homer's 
 poems had at all the same effect to a hearer, oj- 
 reader, of his time, that an English poem would 
 now have, if composed of all the provincial dia- 
 lects of Great Britain ?— We are always told, how 
 Homer enriched his language by " visitincr all the 
 " principal nations of Greece, and learning the 
 '' pecuHarities of their speech ^" Just as if an 
 
 English 
 
 * Digression sur les Anc. et les Mod, 
 
 ^ BlackweU's Enquiry, See. p. 292.— And $0, indeed, 
 tlie author of the treatise De Horn, Poes,--A£iei h 'jtoihiXti 
 
 wav iM^. 
 
 X 2 
 
pi *i 
 
 ;t 
 
 308 NOTES. 
 
 English poet, because he had resided some time in 
 Yorkshire, or Lancashire, might, in his next poem, 
 put met for night, loise for lose, or a halliblash^ 
 a very well-sounding Lancashire word, for a 
 blaze. 
 
 This account makes the language of Homer no 
 Other than the xoii^to-ju©* \^hich Quintilian repro- 
 bates, among the vitia orat'wms *" ; something worse 
 than the ** Babylonish dialect " of Hudibras ; 
 
 - - - - ' " a party-colour'd dress 
 " Of patch'd and piebald languages. 
 
 <c 
 
 \ 
 
 " It had an odd promiscuous tone, 
 
 " As if he'd talk'd three parts in one ; 
 
 " Which made some think, when he did gabble, 
 
 " They had heard three labourers of Babel \ 
 
 *' Or Cerberus himself pronounce 
 
 " A leash of languages at once." 
 
 With such an idea of Homer s language, Fontenelle 
 might well add — " Cette Strange confusion de 
 " langues, cet assemblage bisarre de mots tout 
 " d^figur^s, etoit la langue des dieux ; du moins 
 
 " il 
 
 c u 
 
 Komcr/*^ quoquc appellatur qusedam mista ex 
 ** varia ratione linguarum oratio ; in si Auicis Dorica, 
 *' Ionic a, *jEoHca etiam dicta confundas, Cui simile vitium 
 '* est apud nos, si quia sublimia humilibus, vetcra novis, 
 '* poetica vulgaribus misceat." 
 
 De Inst, Or, VIIL 3. p. 396, ed, Gibs^ 
 
 Quintilian certainly did not intend this for a description 
 of Homer'i language. 
 
 NOTES. 309 
 
 *' il est bien sur que ce n etoit pas celle des hmimesr 
 — And, indeed, I firmly believe with I^rd Mon- 
 boddo, that " such a mongrel dialect was never 
 *^' written by any man;" and that " Homer 
 " wrote, either the language that was spoken in 
 the country where he was born and educated, 
 or that was used by the poets that had written 
 before him, and was the established lancuatre 
 of Poetry V* "" ^ 
 
 it 
 
 C( 
 
 €C 
 
 a 
 
 i( 
 
 NOTE 200. 
 
 P. 171. And then giving a burlesque 
 
 EXAMPLE OF THAT SORT OF DICTION. 
 
 lafM^oiro^YKTag {y auVp rv Affj,.— Two senses have 
 been given to the word Iccfj^oTroin^rxg ; both of 
 them, I think, far from satisfactory. Some render 
 it— 7naking Iambic verses: ''Iambic usus est: 
 [Viet.] But, is it likely, that Euclid, meaning tx) 
 ridicule Homers hexameters, should do it in 
 Iambic verse ?— Besides that the lines themselves, 
 such as we find them, have not the least air of 
 Iambics, but fall easily enough, with a little help, 
 into hexameters. lo this I perfectly agree with 
 Dacier; though I see no reason to suppose with 
 him, that Euclid had composed ~^^ un ouvrage en 
 ** vers heroiques." 
 
 < — Others, 
 
 ^ Orig. and Prog, of Lang, vo/.iil. p. 19.— And see 
 the rational account given of this matter, and of the 
 progress and intermixture of the Greek dialects in gene^ 
 lal, by Mr. Burgess, in his valuable edition of the MscelL 
 Crit. of Dawes, Pre/, xxi. and p, 405. 
 
 X3 
 
 I 
 
p 
 
 310 NOTES. 
 
 Others, and Madius in particular, understand 
 the word to mean, satirizing, ridiculing, the 
 Poet ; — " se moque de lui." [Dae,'] A meaning 
 that, undoubtedly, suits the passage better ; whe- 
 ther it suits the word itself I much doubt, but 
 will not venture to decide. As Aristotle uses 
 Iaju|3o«-oto?, in the sense of a satuic Poet^ — a 
 maker of the ta|Lt(3oj, or satirie poem, he may pos* 
 sibly have used the verb, lonk^otromy, here, in the 
 correspondent sense of making a satire upon, or 
 burlesquing : — iajtA/3oiro«?j(raf tv auVij tij Xt^ti — 
 *' having ridiculed him in that sort of diction,'^ in 
 the following manner, &c. — As this sense appears 
 to me, on the whole, far more eligible than the 
 other, I have followed it : for I see no third sense 
 that can, with any shew of probability, be ex- 
 tracted from the present text. But that it is 
 defective, and that la/AJSoiroino-ac is an error, I have 
 very little doubt If conjecture might be in- 
 dulged, I should be inclined to suppose, that what 
 Aristotle had said was this ;— " that it is an easy 
 matter to versify, exen in common speech, (Iv 
 auTi? Tti Afgn,) if one may be allowed to extend 
 syllables and words at pleasure, so as to con- 
 vert, for instance, an Iambic foot, which is 
 continually occurring in common conversation**, 
 into an Heroic or Spondee.'' And the exam- 
 ples that follow, were probably two prose sen- 
 tences so converted, or convertible, into hexameters. 
 
 But 
 
 • * I I II II ■ m 
 
 • See cap, ix. ^ Cap, iv. — lAa^ura ya^ hviTiHov, &c. 
 
 i( 
 
 16 
 
 it 
 
 ti 
 
 it 
 
 <( 
 
 NOTES. jn 
 
 But as to the manner in which Aristotle had 
 expressed this in the text, I have no conjecture to 
 offer that is satisfactory, even to myself. — Of the 
 mangled lines which follow, with their perplexing 
 variety of indeterminable readings, I shall say 
 with Victorius, '' veritate desperate, nihil amplius 
 " curae de hac re suscipere volui." It is some 
 comfort however, as M. Batteux has observed, 
 that both the objection of Euclid, and Aristotle's 
 answer, are clear enough, independently of the 
 examples. 
 
 I ought to mention, that Castelvetro has ex- 
 plained this passage, without supposing the text 
 wrong, in a manner different from any other in- 
 terpreter, and which, in part, accords with my 
 idea. By Ix^i.^oiroiuy he understands neither sati- 
 rizing, nor making Iambic *verses\ but, making 
 lambic^ee^ imtead of spondees y in hexameter verse. 
 And the sense he gives the whole passage is this : 
 " It would be a very easy thing to write heroic 
 ** verse^ if this liberty of extension were allowed ; 
 " for then, a Poet might put Iambic feet in the 
 room of Spondees, and commit no fault, be- 
 cause the short syllables might be lengthened 
 at pleasure." And the lines that follow he 
 supposes to be examples of such defective hexa- 
 meters. 
 
 There is somewhat ingenious in this explanation, 
 as there is in many others of this acute writer ; 
 but it has likewise the fault, which many of his 
 
 X 4 explanationa 
 
 16 
 
 66 
 
 66 
 
 
I.^. 
 
 *« 
 
 1^' 
 
 311 NOTES. 
 
 explanations have ; that of being by no means 
 reconcileable with the original. — See his com- 
 ment, p. 481. 
 
 NOTE 201. 
 P. 172. When these licences appear 
 
 TO BE THUS purposely USED- . 
 
 — To fAiv iv $AINE20AI ttw; p^^w/xfvoi^, x. t. i\, — 
 The force, both of (pAmaitu, which I understand 
 to be emphatic here, and of ttw?, seems perfectly 
 well explained by Castelvetro. " Non so perchfe 
 " alcuni vogliano rimuovere di questo testo, ttw^, 
 ** cssendoci stato posto per dimostrare, che allora 
 " il vitio si scopre, e' 1 riso si maove, quando si 
 " comincia in alcun modo a riconoscet'ej che il 
 ** poeta ha usata a studio^ e ricercaia questa ma- 
 " mera di parole'' p. 482. 
 
 So, too, Piccolomini s translation — • '^ Vesser 
 ** ^eduto — usar cosi fatto modo di locutione." — 
 For TTwc, I once suspected we should read AIIPE- 
 »w? ; as presently after — xf "i^«>'®* «Vf £9r«?. But 
 I believe ir«f is right : — aliquo modo. 
 
 NOTE 202. 
 
 P. 172. How GREAT A DIFFERENCE IS 
 MADE, &C. 
 
 'Oo-ov $ioc(pi^ii — . Not " quantum excellat^ as 
 
 Goulston and others translate ; but, ** what a 
 
 " difference the proper use of such words makes'^ 
 
 — " how different the effect is." As, al)ove, cap. x,^ 
 
 7 AIA^EPEX 
 
 ti 
 
 NOTES. ^ 3,3 
 
 AIAMPEI y«,^ ^oxu—'' it makes a great difference:" 
 and, cap, xviii. n AIA^EPEI. — Nothing more 
 common than this use of the word. The differ- 
 ence here expressed, is, plainly, between the 
 d^fMorrov, and the aV^iTrw^, in the use of such words; 
 
 A£ 'APMOTTON oVov Aa?)£^£i— x.t.a. 
 
 NOTE 203, 
 
 P. 172. AND TEMPERATE USE OF SUCH 
 
 WORDS—. 
 
 — EyT*9f^£k«y Tw> iyoiAurm lU ro ^grj/jy :— literally, 
 the zcords beihg put into the metre r i. e. as- 
 Victorius and others explain it, "taking care, 
 " that, in changing the words, you do it ' salvo 
 " metro:'' A very unnecessary caution surely; 
 besides that the Greek hardly myis that, whatever 
 it may wean. Let us try its meaning by the 
 fairest test, that of strict and literal translation ; 
 for we can sometimes see nonsense in English^ 
 wliich we cannot see in Greek. " But what dif- 
 '•' ference is made by a proper use of such word3, 
 " may be observed in hexameter verse, when the 
 '' words are put into (i. e. as it is explained, 
 " adapted to — ) the metre:'— What words ? -^ 
 RletaphoricaJ, foreign, extended, &c. of which 
 he had just been speaking. Very well. But 
 how— put in, or adapted to, the metre ?— for not a 
 word has yet been said about changing the words. 
 Goulston understands, putting in these poetical 
 
 words 
 
l4> 
 
 
 €1 
 
 II 
 
 3H NOTES. 
 
 words instead of the proper and common xvords '. 
 
 I see nothing of this in the original. 
 
 In short, it appears to me, that notliing tole- 
 rable can be made of the phrase, il? to jutT^ok, 
 taken in this sense. If it might be taken, as some 
 have taken it ^ adverbially, for [xsr^iug — to a mode- 
 rate degree — all would be well. " Let it be con- 
 *' sidered in heroic verse, what a difference is 
 made by such words, when properly used, and 
 not inserted, or introduced, too frequently, '' But 
 I cannot think that the expression will admit of 
 this sense, though somewhat favoured, perhaps, 
 by the circumstance of /sxItjov having been just 
 before used in the sense of moderation : to h 
 fAiT^ov, Koivov dtTTMruiv, &c. If thc articlc TO were 
 omitted, the adverbial sense would be less impro- 
 bable; but, fl? TO /Air^ov, can only, I think, mean 
 • — into the metre. Still, however, 1 incline to 
 think this was Ari^otle's meaning, and that he 
 probably wrote ag to METPION. A single letter 
 makes all the difference. The word /AiT^iov, as far 
 as that may add any probability to my conjecture, 
 occurs in that part of the Rhetoric where he is 
 treating of the very same subject — the proper and 
 moderate use of metaphors, epithets, and other 
 tropical and ornamental words, in oratory. Thus, 
 III. 2. p. 586, speaking of epithets and diminu- 
 tives. 
 
 * See tlie notes oa his Latin version. 
 ^ Castelvetio— Dacier — f " misfs avec mesure'') and 
 the editor of the unaccented Ox. ed of 1760. 
 
 NOTES. 315 
 
 lives, he says, iJAajSfio^a* h $n, xa* Trx^ocrnfnv h 
 
 dy,^o^y TO METPION, And again, of epithets— 
 
 ^ii rTo;)^«^€o-9a« TOT METPIOT. /;. 587. 
 
 As this was the only satisfactory sense I could 
 make of the words, I have ventured to give it in 
 my version. 
 
 NOTE 204. 
 
 P. 172. For a common and usual word — . 
 
 Ku^jK tl(t)9oT^. As xv^tov, in Aristotle's sense, 
 IS common, the addition of iIw9ot(^, (usual), 
 seems, at first view, to be mere tautology. But 
 the case, as it is very well explained by Victorius, 
 appears to have been this. The word Misi, which 
 he here calls xu^toi/ £lw9^, was not strictly xu^tov, 
 but only a com?non metaphor; that is, a word 
 which, though originally metaphorical, had ac- 
 quired, by constant use as a chirurgical term*, 
 the effect of a proper word. [See note 179.] 
 As xv(iov, therefore, in Aristotle's enumeration, 
 was opposed to fAtrocipo^x, as well as to yXcorrot, 
 and the rest of the poetical words, the applica- 
 tion of it here, to a word that was evidently 
 metaphorical in its original use, might seem incon- 
 sistent : the word iluior^ was therefore, probably, 
 added, to obviate, in his short way, this objection. 
 
 I cannot 
 
 ♦ Aristotle, probably, would not have given the deno- 
 mination of fw^iov, at all, to the same word in this line of 
 Homer : 
 
 Taj ofjia 701 irocnai '^^S ^'^*"'— ^l^ ^' '8t. 
 
[*l* 
 
 Ji* NOTES. 
 
 I cannot guess what induced Dacier to render 
 yXwrratp, here, by " mot metaphorique ;" or Cas- 
 telvetro to assert, that Aristotle calls fl«t>«T«^ a 
 foragn word, only on account of the boldness (^ 
 the rnetaphor. By yXmro^, I think, we are to 
 understand, any word that belongs either to ano- 
 ther language, or another dialect of the same 
 language, and that is not naturalized by common 
 and popular use. For foreign words, by long 
 usage, become common and popular w^ords ; like 
 cntirCy dame, and a great number of other French 
 Wofds in our language, which were yXfancn, when 
 first introduced, and for a considerable time after- 
 wards ; but have now, for many years, ceased to 
 be ctMisidered as foreign words. Such words in 
 the Greek language Aristotle, I apprehend, did 
 Hot comprehend under the term yXtsirrai, as not 
 being strange^ tmcommon, 5«vtx«. This is evident 
 from a passage in his Rhetmc: ii /xiv i^t TAXIT- 
 TAI, ArNHTEI • T« h KTPIA, I2MEN \ 
 
 There is, however, one sort of poetic words not 
 distinctly provided for in Aristotle's enumeration; 
 I mean, obsolete words. Yet these make so con- 
 siderable a part of the privileged language of 
 verse, that we can hardly suppose him to have 
 overlooked them. rxwTTflt* seems the only class 
 to which they can possibly be referred : yet his 
 definition of yAwrra is, " a word, w ypmiM 
 ETEPOI ;" which is not applicable to an obsolete 
 
 ^ word, 
 
 ^ RheU 111. 10, iniu 
 
 NOTES. J,, 
 
 Mtn-d, used by nobody. Perhaps he did not think 
 it worth while to distinguish between words be- 
 longing to another language, or dialect, and wordi 
 that once belonged to the native language, but 
 which, having long fallen into disuse, have, when 
 occasionally revived, the effect oi foreign words, 
 
 KOTE 205. 
 
 P. 172. The cankerous wound that 
 
 EATS MY FLESH. 
 
 should read, probably, for the sake of the metre, 
 either ^fccyttoum y fl, as it is corrected in the 
 Oxford Euripides, or, which seems still better, 
 fxyaoc^yx $n, which is Du Pauws emendation. 
 And (ra^Tta^, for the same reason, must have been 
 altered to <ra^x«, in the verse of Euripides, as, p- 
 see, it is given in the Oxford edition. 
 
 Had Aristotle told us no more about these 
 two lines; than that one of them was of JEschylus, 
 and the other of Euripides, what critic would 
 not have confidently given the floivara* to JEs^ 
 chylus? 
 
 NOTE 206. 
 
 P. 173. NVV Jb fjJ lujV OAirOS T6 KCU 
 
 OYTIAANO2: xa/ KYLIKTZ. 
 
 Od. IX. 515. — In the allowed line, thus: 
 Nw ^6 1/ luv MIKP02 TB Kcci ASGENIKOS 
 
 Koci AEIAHr. 
 
 Among 
 
 if- 
 
lUfS 
 
 \ IV*' 
 
 m: 
 
 
 318 NOTES. 
 
 Among these substituted terms, that ^ix^©* 
 answers to o\ty^ is clear enough ; but how duhi 
 answers to dKiKv^y it is not easy to make out. 
 This difficulty struck me, long before I had seen 
 the comment of Victorius, who makes the same 
 remark; and I had accounted for the mistake in 
 the same way that he does : for, if axixu? be the 
 true reading, the commentators must, probably, 
 have been misled by taking it for granted, that the 
 substituted words must necessarily correspond, in 
 order, as well as meaning, to the original words *. 
 But it is easy to s(?e, that at icTn?, ugly, or deformed^ 
 cannot answer to axixuf, which is weak ; and that 
 a(r9fkix(^ does exactly answer to it. 'Axtxuf — 
 •ASOENHS, d$\)vx7(^. Hesych, — But my difficulty 
 goes still farther. I do not see how di^$y\q can 
 correspond, in meaning, to sTi^a^®*. I once 
 thought it should be AEIKHS. — Ouxi^av®^ — iSivf^ 
 m^i^. Hesych, Afix£Xi«? — £ut£A£k, OTAENOS 
 AHIOTS : and, AEIKES— ETKATA^PONHTON. Id. 
 So Suidas ; AfixfXi®^ — fuxafa^^omr^. But, 
 
 notwithstanding the authority of lexicographers, 
 and the common derivation of the two words, 
 «£ixn? and a£ixiAt(^, I question whether the former 
 is ever used by Homer in the sense of ari^ak^, 
 contemptible, mean, &c. though aiixeXi^* is. Arixrij 
 
 seems 
 
 * — " Aristotelem, ordinem Homericorum verborum ia 
 ** immutatione eorum non savasse; atquc id fecisse, ut 
 •* metrum servaret ; et, quum inquit, arflfvix®-, quod secun» 
 ** dum apud ipsum est, tertium apud poetam exprimere vo» 
 
 luisse^'* Fiii. Comment, p. 237. 
 
 <( 
 
 N Q T E S. 3,9, 
 
 seems always to mean, indignus, unworthy, sad, 
 shocking, shamful, &c. It is a word of serimm^ 
 indignatmi\ Ai.x.x.o, seems to be used some- 
 times in that sense', and sometimes in the con^ 
 tempt mus sense*, as in the line of IJomer which 
 AristoUe next produces. The only passages that 
 I have found in Homer, where iuxn^ will admit 
 well of this sense, are Od. n. 199, and Od. a. 249, 
 in the expressions, «.xi« i<r<ro, and, «hx,« ,V«-«, :' 
 yet even there, it Ls not necessary to render it 
 " meanly clad ;" it may be, as in other places, 
 sadly, unbecomingly, indigjii, Sec.' 
 
 With respect to the word «tJ«»(^, Hesychius 
 gives «<r9(»« as one of its meanings ; and aVSfKx©* 
 might well enough answer to it here, were it not 
 for the stronger claim of the word ax.xuj ; which, 
 however, after all, may possibly be a mistake. We 
 know how variously Homer was read and quoted 
 by the antients. Three Medicean manuscripts 
 here give inint, instead of ax.xuj = ; and so, the 
 ed. Aid. and the version of VaUa. This reading 
 is also mentioned by Eustathius. Perhaps, theiC 
 ««<r»f might be the reading of Aristotle's copy— 
 the precious copy « vu^hx^, of which we hear 
 so much ; and he might mean to exemplify his 
 proposed experiment of substituting comrnon, for 
 poetical, expression, only in the two Jirst words ; 
 repeating the last, .iu.int, merely to complete hii 
 verse. 
 
 > Vide indices Horaericos. 'As Od. A. 244.^32. fl.231. 
 * Ind. Homer. • See Mr. Winstanley's edition. 
 
?** 
 
 Hi 
 
 i. 
 
 JM N O T t A 
 
 verse. But whatever becomes of this conjecture^ 
 cme thing I cannot help just observing — that this 
 reading, cUi^n^y is favoured by the preceding lines 
 in Homer. Polyphemus says — 
 AAX' cctBi Tivoc (pcoTot MEFAN xoci KAAON Ihyfifif 
 'Ev^uV IXiVirea-Gctt^ fzeyuXriv iTnUfiivov AAKHN, 
 NuF & ijl\ Im OAirOX ts ::«* OYTIAAN02 
 
 xm AKIKYS, &c. v. 513, 
 
 One would expect the three words in this last 
 line to answer, as opposites, to greats handsome^ 
 and strong, in the two first : which they will not 
 do, if we read axixv? ; for sn^uv^, though it may 
 Very well be opposed to (AtyuXnu sTrmfxtuov uXxnv^ 
 eannot be, with any propriety, opposed to xaXor. 
 Whereas, if cUi^ng be substituted for ax»xuf, all 
 urill answer exactly ; oXiy^, to fxtyav, «Ti(?«v(^, to 
 
 pityxXnv lfriu[Aiyey aAxrjv, and auSr\q, tO y.o(.Xov, 
 
 In these examples, it is not always easy to as- 
 certain the particular class, to which Aristotle 
 would have referred the words which he chanses. 
 "We learn, however, that all these Homeric Words 
 w€re ^y*x«, uncommon, and poetical ; and that all 
 the substituted words were xufta — words in com" 
 mon and familiar use. 
 
 NOTE 207. 
 
 P. 174. For it is this alone, which 
 
 CANNOT BE ACQUIRED, &€. 
 
 Well translated, though very freely, by M. Bat- 
 ^ux. " C'est la seule chose qu'on ne puisse! 
 
 " empruntcr 
 
 1» O T E S. 321 
 
 II emprunter dailleurs. C est la production du 
 *' g^nie, le coup-d'oei; dm esprit qui voit ks rap- 
 " ports:' Compare RkeL IIL 2. p. 585^ D. and 
 1^- P-595, E. where it is observed, that, xa* h 
 
 ipiXotroipiot, TO 'OMOION, KAI EN HOAT MEXOTEI, 
 hic^uy, iCfo^H. — See Mr. Harris's P/nlol, Inq\ 
 p. 186, 187, where all these passages are quoted 
 and translated. 
 
 NOTE 20S. 
 
 ^ P. 175. The double are best suited 
 TO dithyrambic Poetry, &c. 
 
 ifVTOi yot^ ^o(pc,hyg' di Se yXu}TTcci, rotg iTfowoioiq' 
 CTBf^vov yoL^ Koci avdocSer 'n {^BTcc(pe^a J^g, roii 
 luf^fieioig. Met. HI. 3. p. 587. 
 
 NOTi) 20(). 
 
 P. 175. But TO IAMBIC VERSE, WHICH IS, 
 As >IUCH AS MAY BE, AN IMITATION OF 
 COMMON SPEECH - - -. 
 
 This, as I have already observed*, is the only 
 passage in these three chapters concerning the 
 diction, that strictly relates to the subject— the 
 diction of 2ragedj/, as distinguished from that of 
 the Epic, and other species. It is a hint onljr; 
 but a pregnant hint, and one that mi^ht furnish 
 matter for a dissertation of some length. How 
 
 ^ frequently. 
 
 VOL. II, 
 
 * Nqte 166. 
 
 r 
 
 
11 "'" 
 
 w. 
 
 
 iii ' NOTES. 
 
 frequently, even in the best Tragedies, do we see 
 the Poet, as it were, through the actor ; hear him 
 indulgins: himself in his ofwn language, instead of 
 imitating that of his characters; substituting de- 
 clamation for passion, describing when he should 
 e.rpress^; and, in the unrestrained and epic ele- 
 vation of his diction, losing all sight of that 
 natural language, of which, undoubtedly, the lan- 
 guage of Tragedy should be, according to the 
 precept here implied by Aristotle, only an improved 
 imtation. This improvement, indeed, admits of 
 more or less, but should, at least, bear always the 
 same proportion to what we conceive would be 
 the natural language * of the persons who speak. 
 
 ;»5T 
 
 in 
 
 *» See Diss. I. vol. i. p. 25, &c. 
 
 * What I here call natural language is, by no means, 
 confined to simple 2ind familiar language. See note 226, 
 and Dr. Hurd's note on v. 94 of the Ep. to the Pisos, 
 there referred to. To which I must add the judicious 
 observations communicated to the public, long after this 
 note was written, by Mr. Mason, in his memoirs of 
 Mr. Whitehead, p. 58, 59, 60. I pcrfecdy agree with 
 what is there said — that the Tragic style not only admits, 
 but demands, *' the use of strong images, metaph(;rs, and 
 ^'figures;'* that ** it cannot, indeed, be truly impassioned 
 *' without them v" and that " while it discards unmean- 
 *^ ing epithets, it should be liberal of those, that add force 
 " and vigour to the sentiment." Nor is all this in any 
 degree incompatible with such imitation, such improved 
 imitation, of cowmion speech, ('OTIMAA12TA x$iw 
 fU(xsi(7&at,) as Aristotle attributes to Tragic diction, which 
 he does not require to be confined to common and ordinary 
 
 expression, 
 
 NOTES; ^^ 
 
 ih the situation, whatever it may be, of the scene 
 before us. For this last! cifCuhistance makes a 
 great difference. Tragedy has its «>y« ^,^, Hts 
 comparatively ■' idk parts," as well ds the Epic 
 Poem' ; and, considering how rare the talent is of 
 true poetic fancy, and poetic expression, the critic, 
 who would rigorously exclude them from evay- 
 part of Tragedy, must be an Ariphrades, or a 
 EucM.—The first speech of Caractacus, in Mr. 
 Mason s exquisite drama, is highly poetical. Pos-^ 
 sibly, a severe critic might wish it somewhat less 
 so ;— but we have so little of such Poetry !— No' 
 Poet, however, knows better than Mr. Mason, 
 when the simpler tone of nature and passion 
 should take place. When Caractacus is exhorted 
 by the Druids to " bethink him"— 
 
 if ought on this vain earth 
 
 Still holds too firm an union with his soul, 
 Estranging it from peace - - « 
 he answers, 
 
 I had a Queen : — 
 
 Bear with my weakness, Druid !— This tough 
 bieast 
 
 Must heave a sigh— for she is unreveng'd. 
 And can I taste true peace, she unreveng'd ? 
 —So chaste, so lov'd a queen !— ah, Evelina, 
 ^ .. Hang 
 
 expression, («,fw.) but expressly allows it to use also 
 metaphors, and (pithets : to *«.<.», hcu META*0PA, km 
 K0SM02. cap. xxii. 
 
 ! Cap. xxiv. Transl. Fart III. Sett, 6. 
 
 Y a 
 
 f ': 
 
IH .NOTES. 
 
 Hang not thus weeping on the feeble amr 
 That could not save thy mother. - - - 
 
 Tkc reader will find some excellent obser- 
 lUtionsr on this subject in Dr. Beattie's Essav on 
 Poetry, &c. Part II. chap^ i. Sect. i. p. 224^ &c. 
 and Sect. 3. p. 267, 268, where a charming 
 example of simple Tragic language is given froni 
 Othdlo \ 
 
 With respect to the Greek Tragedy, its earliest 
 language appears to have been of a low and 
 burlesque kind— the Afgi? yiXoix of its satyric 
 origin, conveyed in the suitable vehicle of the 
 dancing tetrameter \ When it was reformed and 
 dignified, (aVio-i^ywfin,) Ho?na* was the model ; and 
 jEscHYLUS, with a conception naturally sublime, 
 and the Iliad before him, raised the tone of Tra- 
 gedy above its proper pitch, not only to the pomp 
 of the EpiCy but even, frequently, to the wild, 
 and tumid, and dark audacity of the Dithi/raynbic : 
 so that, sometimes, as extremes will meet, the 
 Afjiff yiXcicty which he took so much pains to avoid, 
 can^ round and met him, in the shape of bombast^ 
 at the very moment when he thought himself at the 
 greatest distance from it. There could not well 
 be any thing in the theatrical cart of Thespis 
 
 more 
 
 ^ In his note, Dr. Bcattic has " translated it into 
 ihe finical style." But _we gee plainly, d^at he is by 
 ttjuch too good a Poet to succeed well in spoiling good 
 Poetry. 
 
 * Cap. iv. Traml. Part I. Sect. 7. 
 
 NOTES. 325 
 
 more laughable, than to call smoke *' the hrotJier 
 offre,'' and dust, the " brother of mud\'' 
 
 Sophocles reduced the general language of 
 his dialogue to a more equable and sober dignity, 
 but still, Homer, we know, was his great model * ; 
 and of his diction it may, perhaps, be said, that 
 It is often Epic, though his measure is Iambic. 
 Most modern readers, however, will, I believe 
 think it, (as mc ai^e told many antient readers 
 did^,) more adapted to the genius of Tragedy 
 than 
 
 ^ Tlu^^ Kaa-iv. Sept. contra Theb.\, ^QQ,'^^)caa-ii 'jrrirjd 
 
 novi^. Agam, 503. — The commentators are very amusing, 
 when they admire this, and tell us, it is the same thing 
 iis the beautiful expression of xp<rfa5 t«vov i-Kml^, ap- 
 plied to the Oracle, in the Oedipus of Sophocles, [v. 161], 
 the :^a^o^H yaias rzxva of iEsthylus, applied to flowers 
 [Pers, 620.] or the " Syha film nob'ttis,'' of Horace. 
 [See *Burton's Pentalogla, and Stanley's notes oh ^schy- 
 lus.] De Pauw, indeed, finds fault; but he is equally 
 diverting in another way. liis note upon xaa-ii 7ry\\v, is — 
 " Inepte : pulvis ille est ipsum lutum arefactum et com- 
 " minutum : oculati vident statimy — It is to be observed, 
 that both these metaphors orf ^sdiylus are in the dialogue 
 part. Dante has a riddling metapiioricai expression of 
 the same kind, but much more pocticaj. He c^is a hoar 
 /rost, the ihter of snow, 
 
 Quando la brina in su la terra, asserapra 
 
 L'imagine di sua sorella bianca. 
 
 Jnfcrno, Canto xxiv. v. 4, 5. 
 
 SuidaSy V. PoLEMoN. Diog, Laert.lY, 20. — to tto-v 
 'Ofjin^iMu^ uvofjia^B. Auctor Vita Sophociis, 
 
 ^ Namque is, (Euripides,) et m sermone (quod ipsum 
 reprchpndunt ^uibus gravitas et cothurnus et sonus Sophociis 
 
 y 3 vjdetur 
 
 tl 
 
 # 
 
3?6 NOTES. 
 
 than that of Euripides; who seems to have 
 been regarded by the antients as the first who 
 brought down the language of Tragedy into unison 
 with the rtmimre, so tliat tlie one bore the same 
 degree of resemblance to common speech in its 
 ^xprtsaions, as the other did in its rhythm. At 
 least, this appears to have been Aristotle's opinion, 
 irom a passage in his Rhetoric, where, after having 
 explained the difference between the diction of 
 Oratory and that of Poetry, and the foundation 
 of that difference, he observes, that such a degree 
 of embellishment as forces on the hearer the idea 
 of art, and labour, and preparation, is to be 
 avoided, not only by the Orator, but even by the 
 Poet, if he would be natural and affecting ; and 
 he compares such evidently artificial language to 
 the voices of the generality of actors, as opposed 
 to the voice of Thcodorus, which always appeared 
 to be the real voice of the character he perso- 
 nated ; whereas their voices were evidently feign- 
 ed K He then adds — " The best way to conceal 
 artifice, and make your language appear easy 
 ^' and natural, is, by forming it, chiefly, of Oie 
 *^ words and phrases of customary speech, pro- 
 perly, ^e/ec/et/; as Euripides does, who first 
 
 " set the example 
 
 k » 
 
 A pas- 
 
 videtur esse sublimior,) magis accedit oratorio geueri. — 
 QuintiU X. I. 
 
 * Sec Diss, I. vol. i. p. 6i. note '. 
 
 — Sfi "hay^cLmv fromyroif um, fit) 5b««v xsyuv vE'7r>ji(rfi£va}^, 
 
 NOTE S. 327 
 
 A passage that precedes this, deserves to be 
 given entire, fi*om its close connection with the 
 subject of this part of the treatise on Poetiy, and 
 the curious, though short, sketch it contains of the 
 histmy of Tragic diction. 
 
 As the Poets appeared to owe their repu- 
 tation to their language, which never failed to 
 be admired, however foolish and absurd the 
 matter it conveyed ; on this acco»ot, ev^nprose 
 '* diction was, at first, poetical, like that of Gor^/fl,y. 
 And even now, they, who use such language, 
 are looked upon, by illiterate people, as the 
 finest speakers ; which is far frqm being true ; 
 for oratorical diction, and poetical diction, are 
 ** different things. And as a proof of this, we see 
 what has actually happened: for now, even 
 among the Poets themselves, those who write 
 Tragedy no longer make use of that sort of lan- 
 guage ; but, as ^they had exchanged the Troctiaic 
 verse for the Iambic, because ^^^^^ of all metres, 
 approaches the nearest to common'speech; so 
 now, they have also discarded all those words 
 and phrases, so remote from common speech, 
 with which the earlier Tragic Poets used to 
 embellish theii* diction, and which are still em- 
 ployed 
 
 a 
 
 ic 
 
 u 
 
 a 
 
 • t( 
 
 u 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 u 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 KM OlOV V 0f o3af « ^uvtl 'JTEVOV&e 'JT^ TttV TftJV aXXW? UTTOXPlTtav • 
 
 ^ «!/, k(X9 rig EH Tuf tlaitjuiag ^laXEma hMym (rwriQn' ottzo 
 Evfi^rAj 5r««, KAi 'TIIfiAEIHE nPaXOS. RlutMh 2. 
 
 y 4 
 
 
A 
 
 328 NOTES. 
 
 ^' ployed by those who write Hexameters. It 
 ^' would be ridiculous, therefore, to imitate the 
 *' Poets^n a language, which they themselves have 
 -^ abandoncfl as improper V 
 
 The Abb6 Batteux, by understanding *V|3£iok 
 here to mean Iambic, or satirical, Poems, has, 
 unluckily, thrown away the only passage in these 
 three chapters, that was strictly to Aristotle's pur- 
 pose. He bS!s, also, with Dacier, misrepresented 
 his meaning, by rendering—** ne pent recevoir quh 
 " ce qui est employ^ dans la conversation/' We 
 are, undoubtedly, to understand, MAAISTA d^fxar- ' 
 ni, as before : for that Aristotle did not mean 
 absolutely to exclude the other Poetic words— the 
 double, fhe foreign, &c. from every part of the 
 Tragic dialogue, is plain from his allowing the 
 occasional use of them even in p?vse. Ilhct. III. 2. 
 p-585, C. 7. p. 590 , E. 591, A. 
 
 ro^t^uffOat Twh rvi¥ ^o4w ^ mro, v!Oinrucn v^ami iymro 
 )^liy Uov fi To^yta ' uai lyy in hi «o^Xo< Ta;y aviauhm^v ths 
 roiHTitf otoyrcu ^mMyEaSc^ ita>>uTa. T«to h ix irn, ojg: 
 hs^aJ^OYH KM Tsomimi >^i ert. ArtXot 3f to cru^fiaivov sh 
 yof ot TOi r^ayui^iog wo.^mj hi x^c^vrat lov aurov t^otsov* 
 a^ 07Vi^Km m TiTpa^^eTpoir 1/5 ro lufx&iiGV ^£TF^>j(r«v, ha to 
 rip X079, ""^o TQV fm^(0M iutciomrov mau luv iv^v • irw ksh 
 T«r ova^cxTTuiv a(pnua(Ttv, gaa ma^a tw ^<aXf*TOv inv hi^ ^ hi 
 w^WT^v iHOcriAHyy xgii m n/y q T(» E^a^sTfa isoiuvjn, wpma<Ti. 
 [The rei^etitipn of aipmicri, here, ha^ much il^e appeal ancc 
 of -error. I sus^^ct we sl^ould read thu? : ;^t« moi T^jy 
 ovoixaTi^„, g^a TBo^a T7JV 3a;^«*T9y kiv, pij 0', or, oi^JE, P< -arf^rq^ 
 f*9^^ jcpw~WW8VTfj, apJiWKTi.] ho ysXom fjufxii(r9cu tstbj, ^i 
 mpTQi kn m x^(^vTcu Uetm tw r^oisu, R/ut, HI. i, />. ^84/ 
 
 N O T E S. 
 
 3*9 
 
 KOTE 210. 
 
 P. 177- Eyf:N jy jHiiS, theeefore, &c, 
 HcTn xa» rxvrvi.'^Hh—alreadj/'-^ven in tlie 
 /m operation of his genius— the very choice 
 pf hi3 subject, and formation of his plan. Such 
 appears to me to be the force of i,V„ in this passage, 
 Mhich, I think, is injured by those commentator! 
 Mho punctuate—fiJo-^ri^ il^ofxi, ^^v~''as we have 
 alreadjj said,'*, 
 
 NOTE 211, 
 
 P. 177- He has, fhom the rest, intro- 
 duced MANY Episodes — . 
 
 Nuv h, Iv fAip^ dwoXct^ujy^ WH(rohoii xf;5^^„t«i 
 
 ATTriN TToAXo^f.— 1. e. as the commentators explain 
 it, of the other parts of the war. But, what should 
 Me think of this English—- Selecting one part 
 ^* of the war, he introduces many episodes of 
 '' them?'' If Aristotle meant the other parts of 
 the war, auV^v must, surely, be wrong : if «,V«, 
 be right, I confess I cannot see xvhat he meant 
 I wi3h we had manuscript authority for the auVOT 
 of Hewsius, which is adopted and explained bj 
 Le Bossu, II. 5, and 6.— But a learned friend has 
 suggested to me a conjecture still more probable; 
 that Aristotle wrote AAAXiN. Nv. h, 'en ,.5^©! 
 
 dwoXa(i(,y, lnti(ro$mg Xix^nrxi AAAIIN [sc. fxtocoy] 
 
 aroA/oK. " Selecting one part only of the war, 
 " he has, from other parts, introduced many 
 ^' Episodes," &c, ^ 
 
330 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 212. 
 
 P. 178. The author of the Cypriacs, 
 
 AND OF THE LIT'ILE IhlAD. 
 
 To the authors usually referred to on the subject 
 of these Poems, it may now be useful to add 
 Heyne, E:vcursu primo ad JEn, II. p. 228, 229— 
 a very learned and curious dissertation concerning 
 the writers on the Trojan war. 
 
 NOTE 213. 
 P. 179- The fall of Thoy. r 
 See Heyne, Excursti primo ad Mn. II. p. 230, 231. 
 
 KOTE 214. 
 
 P. 179. Homer gave both the first, and 
 
 THE most perfect, EXAMPLE. 
 
 'Ok aVao-iv 'O^d^^ ^^Xt^^^^'y KAI w^m^, KAI 
 ixaj/wf.— *' Neque quemquam alium, cujus operis 
 " primus auctor fuerit, in eo perfect imjnum, 
 " praeter Homerum, et Archilochum, reperie- 
 " mus." VelL Patenulus, I. 5. 
 
 Victorius, and other commentators, have, I 
 think, done some injustice to the force of Aristotle & 
 expression here, by taking tlie adverb, ;x«^a,c, too 
 literally. They render it— ^^ ita ut satis putari 
 "' debeatr (Vict.) — ^^ accurate satisr (GouU 
 Stan.) (^T.— Tliis gives the xvord, indeed, but falls 
 short of the meaning, which Castelvetro alone has, 
 ^ * accord ina 
 
 NOTES. 33t 
 
 according to my idea, adequately expressed: 
 
 " Gran lode h quella, che h data da Aristotele ad 
 
 '' Homero, che egli sia stato ii primo, che abbia 
 
 " usate tutte e quattro le spetie deir Epopca, &c.— 
 
 '' e le babbia usate,,^pe & perfettamente:' And 
 
 his translation is-p-^' Le quali cose tutte Homero 
 
 '' \^o,eprimiero,eferfettqmemer Undoubtedly, 
 
 the literal meaning of /xavw; is, sufficiently well ; 
 
 but in Poetry nothing is sufficiently well, that is 
 
 not as well, or nearly as well, as possible : and, 
 
 fartlier^ if I aai not mistaken, the Greek writers, 
 
 not unfrequently, use Ikm^^ and /xayw?, as t.ie 
 
 Italians use the word assai ; sometimes for enouo'h 
 
 (which, I suppose, is the primary signification of 
 
 assaij and sometimes for muchy a great deal, 
 
 ,'very, &c. *lxixuny--(ioxii<rocv, nOAAHN. Hcsych. 
 
 NOTE 215. 
 
 p. 180. If THE Epic Poem were reduced 
 
 FROM ITS ANTIENT LENGTH, SO AS NOT TO 
 EXCEED THAT OF SUCH A NUMBER OF TRA- 
 GEDIES AS ARE PERFORMED SUCCESSIVELY AT 
 ONE HEARING. 
 
 If we knew certainly, how many Tragedies were 
 performed at one hearing, [lU fj^^av ax^oao-iy,) we 
 should know, with equal certainty, to what length 
 Aristotle thought the Epic Poem ought to be re- 
 duced, in order to be perfectly, or sufficiently, 
 f uVui/OTTT^v. But, unfortunately^ the premises here 
 
 are 
 
 i 
 
33^ NOTES, 
 
 are not less obscure than the conclusion; the in- 
 formation to be picked up in antient authors, rela- 
 tive to the Tragic contests and the Tetralogice^ 
 being extremely imperfect and unsatisfactory. 
 I^t us however try, what little glimmering of light 
 may be thrown upon thi^ subject, from those 
 authors, or from the nature of tlie thing itself. 
 
 The general principle, upon which Aristotle 
 here fixes the length of an Epic Poem, is the same 
 with that, upon which he fixes the length of a 
 Tragedy : viz. " that it should be such as to 
 admit of our comprehending, at one view, the 
 beginning and tlie end. And this," he goes on, 
 would be the case, were it reduced from its 
 antient length, so as not to exceed that of such 
 a number of Tragedies, as are performed suc- 
 cessively at one hearing." Here then is a rule, 
 which, at the time he wrote it, was as clear and 
 determinate, as if he had expressly said, that an 
 Epic Poem ought not to exceed a certain number 
 of verses. But, as an ingenious friend has su^r- 
 gested to me, " he probably chose to put his rule 
 in tlie way he has put it, rather than in thii 
 latter way, as wishing to qoqyey an intimation, 
 that the length of an Epic Poem should be such, 
 as would admit of its being fairly recited, or 
 read, in a single day." 
 It seems to have b^en a comiponly received 
 opinion, thjit the four dramas of each Poet, which 
 ppmposed the Tc/r^/ogv^, were always performed 
 
 »t 
 
 <( 
 
 ti 
 
 u 
 
 it 
 
 $i 
 
 ti 
 
 ti 
 
 n 
 
 u 
 
 a 
 
 NOTE S. 335 
 
 at one hearing— in one day*. In tliis case, if 
 o??e Poet only produced his Tetralogia, there could 
 be but four Tragedies ; if tziVy there must be 
 eight ; if three, twelve, and so on : there could be 
 no intermediate numbers. In so obscure a sub- 
 ject, I certainly shall not take upon me to decide. 
 The passage, however, commonly adduced, I 
 believe, as tlie principal authority in this matter, 
 from Diogenes Laertius, appears to me to be 
 against tliis supposition. The words are these : 
 
 Ex£i»o* [sc. Tragici] T5T^«<ri ^^a^ao-iv Yiym^!;^oy70y 
 Aiovufl-ioK, Anvatoi?, navafluka*o»f/ Xur^otf, dv to TtTaco- 
 
 TiT^«Xoy»« *.— Here are fou?- festivals, and four 
 dramas; and the most obvious meaning of the 
 passage, surely, is, tliat each contending Poet' 
 produced, not his entire Tetralogia at the same 
 festival, but one Tragedy only at each different 
 festival. And so Is. Casaubon appeal^ to have 
 understood it. " Qaot Athenis Liberalia agita- 
 '* bantur, tot fabulas diversas a Tragicis Poetis 
 " doceri solitas legimus \'' But it seems dif- 
 ficult to reconcile this account w itli what is gene- 
 rally, I think, said, and what Casaubon himself has 
 elsewhere said, of the satyric piece; viz. that it 
 was played betueen, or after, the serious Trage- 
 dies, on each festival, by way of relaxation and 
 relief. 
 
 » See Dacier, p. 1 18. » Diog, Lacrt. 11 L 56. 
 
 ** Dc Sa{)T. Graec. Pocs. lib. i. cap, 5. 
 
 I 
 
 4 ■ M 
 
334 NOTES, 
 
 relief ^ For, to say, that of the four dramas 
 exhibited by each Poet on the four different 
 festivals, the fourth was a satyric drama, ( Jk tj 
 TETAPTON 7[v (rarv^ixop^) is to say, pretty plainly, 
 ^that all the satyric pieces were performed together' 
 at the fourth and last festival, the Xurf o*. And sa 
 indeed some commentators seem to have under- 
 stood it ^ Perhaps the matter might, not unrea- 
 sonably, be compromised, by supposing the rule, 
 in fact, to have been, that, of the different Poets' 
 contending on each day, one should always produce 
 the satyric drama of his Tetralogia, and that drama* 
 , always close the exhibition of the day. — But I for- 
 bear to indulge conjecture farther upon this dark 
 subject. Let us return to Aristotle and his rule. 
 
 Dacier tells us, very gravely, that tzvelve, and 
 sometimes sirteen, Tragedies were performed in 
 one day ' : an account, which, upon the very face 
 of it, exceeds all bounds of probability. It i^ 
 
 ' rathet^ 
 
 ■-""^''^^ I ■ ■■ '^ PM. — ■■ II ■ ■>■■■■ I 11,1-,, ,a 
 
 * De Satyr. Graec. Poes. Ii3. i. cap. iii. p. 128. 
 
 ^ Chyiris] Genus hoc certaminis satyrici fuit, ut ex 
 Laertii verbis apparct, in quo, dramate iatyrorum propria 
 Certarctur, Dio, Laert, ed, MeihAlL 56, note 205. 
 
 ' P. llB, note 15. — This reminds one of the accoun^ 
 given of Chinese plays, " dont la representation dure dix 
 *' ou douze jours de suite, en y comprenant la nuit; 
 *» jusqu' a ce que les spectateurs & les acteurs las de so 
 " succeder eternellement, en allant boire, manger, dormir 
 ** & continuer la piece, ou assister au spectacle, sans que 
 " rien y soit interrompu, se retirent enfin tous, commc 
 ** de concert/* Brumoy, T/:eatre des Grccs, I. 53. 
 
 NOTES. 33^ 
 
 rather difikult to conceive, that the representation 
 of a single Tragedy couWtake up less time than 
 three hours. If however we suppose it to have 
 taken up only tn^o, and also, what could haj'dly be 
 the case, that Tragedy succeeded Tragedy without 
 any intermission, just as scene succeeded scene in 
 the same piece, the whole exhibition of the dayi* 
 according to Dacier's lowest statement, would 
 have taken up 24, and according to his highe^ 
 32 hours. But is it conceivable, that any audience,^ 
 however intemperate their fondness for this amuse- 
 ment, could sit so many Iwurs together to hear 
 Tragedies, and to hear them attentively, so as to 
 jiidge of, and decide upon, their comparative 
 merits ? — This account, therefore, of Dacier, that 
 the number of Tragedies performed " at one 
 "* hearing," and to tlie same audience, (for that 
 is implied,) amounted to twelve, we may venture 
 at once to reject as the most palpable impossibility. 
 Shall we then suppose eight, the next lowest num- 
 ber possible, on the supposition, that the four 
 dramas of the Tetralogia were exhibited in one 
 day ? The representation of eight Tragedies, we 
 may venture to say, could not possibly take up 
 less time than sixteen hours. Let any man con- 
 ceive himself sitting in a Theatre, and hearing 
 Tragedy after Tragedy, from six o'clock in the 
 morning till ten at night, and then pronounce as 
 to tlie probability of even this supposition. If we 
 reject this number, and still adhere to the common 
 • notion 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 1I 
 
 I f^ 
 

 33^ ^7 O T E 1 
 
 notion of these exhibitions, we shall be reduced i6 
 a single Tetralogia ; in which case tliere can have 
 been no rival exhibition on the same day. It 
 seems therefore impossible to adjust this matter in 
 any reasonable way, without supposing, that the 
 four dramas of the Tetralogia were exhibited on 
 different festivals: a supposition, I think, fairly 
 ^ducible from the passage of Diog. Laertius above 
 quoted. A supposition too, which seems to bet 
 rendered more probable from the very nature of 
 rival exhibitions ; as each contending Poet wouldi 
 then produce his drama at the same hearing, each 
 hearing would be a distinct day of contest, and 
 there would be, at each contest, a sufficient ground 
 of judgment upon the comparative merits of each 
 performance. This idea will allow us to assign 
 about twelve hours, as the utmost time taken up 
 by the w hole exhibition of the day ; and th^ great 
 difference of length, which we observe in tlie 
 Greek Tragedies that are extant, will also allow us 
 to conclude, that, occasionally, ^t;e, or possibly 
 even slv Tragedies, might be brought within that 
 compass, or nearly so ^ On this ground, tlien^ 
 ; it 
 
 * See NOTE 64. ^.54, There are not iioo verses^ 
 in any of tlie seven Tragedies of ^schylus, excepft the 
 Agamemnon, Some of those of Euripides fall short of 
 1200 lines; e.g. — the Jlcestis, Heraclida, Rhesus, Several 
 are within 1300. It should also be considered, that the 
 satyric dramas, which probably closed the entertainment 
 of the day, were, perhaps, considerably shoner than the 
 
 serious 
 
 ; >t O T E 8. 33y 
 
 tt will appear, 1 believe, that the extent, to which 
 Aristotle proposed to limit the Epic Poem, could 
 hardly exceed that of about 7000 lines. 
 
 But, if we admit this, we must of course 
 admit, that lie meant to include the Poems of 
 Homer in the number of those which he regarded 
 as too long. And that he did so mean, however 
 unwilling Dacier and other commentators are to 
 allow it, I have no doubt'. For, 1, The actual 
 length of those Poems seems sufficiently to prove 
 this. The number of lines in the Iliad is nearly 
 15,000; in the Odyssey, nearly 12,000. Now 
 whoever can believe it possible, that an audience 
 could sit, and make a common practice of sitting, 
 22, or even 18 hours together, to hear Tragedies,' 
 (which, at the lowest allowance, of txvo hours only 
 for the performance of each piece, must have 
 been the case, if Homer's Poems fell within 
 Aristotle's rule,) may believe, that he thought 
 those Poems of a proper length. Dacier, indeed, 
 ^ tells 
 
 serious Tragedies, as is the case with our farces ; at least 
 if we may judge from the only drama extant of the kind! 
 the Cyclop, of Euripides, in which there are but 70Q 
 verses. ' •» 
 
 » Beni and Piccolomini are of my opinion. See their 
 cotnmentar.es. Victorius, too, though bv afv«,«. he 
 understands the Poets before Homer's time, Tt, by hi! 
 explanauon of Aristotle', rule, plainly supposes Homer to 
 be glanced at; for he makes the time, allowed by the 
 
 S^hll^: V °" "' '" ^^' '""" " '^ ^"^^ 
 VOL II. jj 
 
 * - f 1 
 
 
 I 
 
 r 
 
 11 
 
 n 
 
33» NOTES. 
 
 tells us, that even the Iliad may be read through 
 in a single day ^. For a wager, indeed, I will not 
 say what might be done, if we had reading races 
 at Newmarket. But, 2. Had Aristotle meant to 
 except Homer, why not expressly except him? 
 Gladly as he appears to seize every opportunity 
 of giving the Poet his just praise, would he not, 
 here also, have opposed his conduct to that of other 
 Poets, as he has done in so many other instances ? 
 Or why, indeed, refer us to the number of Tra- 
 gedies successively performed in one day, when he 
 might as well have referred at once to the Iliad, 
 or the Odyssey ? All this seems to leave no doubt, 
 that he thought those Poems drawn out to too 
 great a length. And this is also conformable to 
 what he afterwards says, of the advantage which 
 the Tragic has above the Epic Poem in this cir- 
 cumstance, that it effects its purpose " in a shorter 
 compass'^ — %¥ sAatxTow /tATiJu**. I do not forget 
 what he had said in the preceding chapter — that 
 if Homer had taken the whole war for his subject, 
 his Poem zvould not hcwe been fuVuvoTrrok : which, it 
 may be urged, implies, that he thought it was 
 fuVukOTrroi^ as Homer had' managed it, and therefore 
 not too long. But the contradiction here is merely 
 
 apparent. 
 
 "" -'' L'lliade, rOdyssee, & TEnei'de, sont entiere- 
 " ment conformes a la regie d*Aristote: elles peuvent 
 ** etre leues chacune dans un seul jour." P. 415. 
 
 ^ Cap, ult. — The proverbial expression, frnx^oTs^of 
 IamiJ®-, is well known. 
 
 NOTES. 339 
 
 apparent. The fuVui/oirrov admits of defn-ees; 
 and all that Aristotle appears to mean, in the pas- 
 sage before us, is, that the Poems of Homer would 
 have been more ruVukOTrra, and, in. that respect, 
 more perfect, had they been shorter. 
 
 But, to return once more to the dramatic exhi- 
 bitions— the time of tu^e/ve hours seems to be the 
 very utmost that can reasonably be allowed, and 
 is more, I beHeve, than will readily be allowed, 
 without considering the particular character of the 
 Athenians, and the circumstances attending these 
 theatrical exhibitions. The intemperate fondness 
 of tliat people for these amusements is w ell known ; 
 and Aristotle himself gives us a pretty strong 
 picture of it, when he says, though only in the way 
 of hyperbolical supposition, " if a hundred 
 Tragedies were to be exhibited in' concurrence \" 
 We must, also, consider the mrietj/ of subjects in 
 the different Tragedies performed, and, indeed, the 
 variety resulting from the very nature of the Greek 
 drama, with its choral troop, its odes, its accom- 
 paniments of music and dance : the relief, also, of 
 the satiric drama, which closed tlie performance 
 by way of Farce; the pleasure ,of comparing the 
 rival Poets and actors, the zeal of party in favour 
 of this, or that, particular Poet or performer, &c.— 
 And we may add to all this a curious circumstance 
 •fn the dramatic histoiy of the Greeks; that the 
 people never sate dtnroi ^icc^^vng, but eat, and 
 -- drank, 
 
 ^ Part II. Sect, 4.— Grig, cap, vii. See note 64. 
 
 Z 2 
 
 Si n 
 
 
340 NOTES. 
 
 drank, and regaled themselves with cakes, and 
 nuts, and wine, during the performance, like an 
 English audience at Sadler's Wells, or Bartho- 
 lomew Fair \ 
 
 In the whole theatrical system of the antients, 
 and every thing relating to it, all seems to have 
 been proportionably vast, extravagant, and gigantic. 
 Their immense theatres, their colossal dresses, the 
 stilts, buskins, or heroic pattens, on which the 
 actor was mounted", their masks that covered 
 the whole head, their loud, chanting, and speaking- 
 trumpet declamation ° — all this is upon the same 
 scale with the intemperate eagerness of the people 
 for these amusements, the number of Tragedies 
 exhibited in one day, and, we may add, the almost 
 incredible number said to have been written even 
 by their best Poets. — Would not this last circum- 
 stance alone, supposing not a single drama to have 
 been preserved, have furnished a reasonable proof, 
 €tprio?Hy or, at least, a strong presumption, that 
 the Greek Tragedy must have been, in many 
 respects, 
 
 ' See Athen. p. 464, F. and Casaui. Jnimadvers. 
 p. 779, and the passage there cited from Aristotle's 
 Ethic. Nlcom. 
 
 " The reader will find a curious description of the 
 dress and figure of die antient Tragic actors in Lucian's 
 treatise De Salt. p. 924. ed. Ben. and De Gymnas, p. 406, 
 415. But he will allow something for the exaggerations 
 of a man of humour. See also, the Galtus, p. 263. 
 
 ° See Dr. Burney't Hiit. of Music, I. p, 154, and 
 P/.IV.i^/f. 1,2,3. 
 
 NOTES. 3^, 
 
 respects, a simple, unequal, imperfect thing, just 
 such as, m fact, and prejudice apart, we find it to 
 be'.? Sophocles, confessedly the most correct 
 and pohshcd of the three g.-eat Tragic Poets, 
 js said to have written above an hundred Tra' 
 gedies ^ 
 
 NOTE 216. - . 
 
 p. 181. For, in this respect aiso, the 
 
 NARRATIVE IMITATION IS ABUNDANT, AND 
 VARIOUS, BEYOND THE REST. 
 
 -.f .rr, IS rendered, by almost all the commentators 
 exima, prastantior, more excellent, than the other 
 imitations; which makes Aristotle directly con 
 tradict himself. And this Victorius allows, at the 
 same time that he adheres to that sense :-'♦ »r^, 
 ;; tantwrem esse [hanc poesin] inter cceteras et 
 altiorem locum temrer How this can be re 
 oonciled with the critic's decided preference of 
 Tragedy m the last cliapfer, I do not see T 
 believe Dacier is right, in giving to ..j,.„, i„'this 
 passage, the sense of, more abundant~\^ plus 
 excessive de toutes ". The text, however, appears 
 
 See NOTE ^^, voJ. i. 
 
 K,.» I^^ ?""" "^T *' ^'"^'^ '° *^ ^^^'J ^Y Robortelli • 
 but he understands ;r.f.rr, r«, oMo^-^bundant in cthe'r 
 i/nnss also : a sense which, I believe, the phrase will „ot 
 bear; bes.des that, for this purpose, the «„ should ^ 
 otherwise placed— oai rm oMvt^ . 
 
 Z3 
 
 « 
 
 It 
 
 I 
 

 \4 
 
 342 NOTES. 
 
 to me to be defective : for wliat becomes of the 
 x«», which Dacier, and other translators, have been 
 forced to neglect ? The only fair version of the 
 passage, as we now read it, is this : — " for the 
 narrative imitatioji also, is more abundant," &c. 
 KAI n' $iy\y. /txijt*. — of which I can make no reason- 
 able sense. — Farther, some word seems wanting, 
 to express in what the Epic is iri^irj^ ; and this 
 Dacier found himself obliged to supply in his 
 translation and note : eii cela la plus excessive-r-. 
 I cannot, therefore, help suspecting, that mroK; 
 [sc. fswHOi? oj/o/Aacrt], or rather t«ut>j, has been 
 omitted ; and that we should read thus — wi^irm 
 
 yoc^, xoci TATTH», i hf\yriiM»rmr\ jtxijsxtjert? tuv dXXuv , 
 
 ** In this respect too'' — alluding to the several 
 other respects mentioned in this chapter, in which 
 the Epic imitation was in^irrn rm «aawv : as, in 
 the time of its action, and the length of the Poem 
 itself; in its Episodes, and the variety and jutya- 
 AoTTf £7r£*a arising from them, and fi'om the admission 
 of contemporary events ; in the degree, also, to 
 ^vhich it admits of the uofidcrful, and 'even the 
 incredible \ This, also, agrees perfectly with what 
 he had said, cap. xxii. x«» ly i^iv tok ij^wixoi^ 
 
 *» So above, cap. xxiii.— KAI TATTHi da^fat®- a» 
 
 ' See what presently follows in this chapter : Part III. 
 Sect, 4. of the translation. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 343 
 
 NOTE 217. 
 
 P. 181. Have more motion. 
 KtvtiTix*. The scruple of Victorius, who pro- 
 posed to read xij/Tira, from a doubt, whether 
 xivijTixflt would admit of a passive sense, seems 
 to have been ill-founded. The passage in Plu- 
 tarch, De primo frigidoy referred to by Goulston 
 in his note, is this: m |3^aJ^«a xa* ZTAXIMOS 
 [oj/TiXfiTa*] TT^o? ef up/oxqv xa* KINHTIKON. p. 1755, 
 
 ed. H. S. But the word is used in the same 
 sense by Aristotle himself, in the 50th of the 
 Harmonic Problems, p. 770, where xinjTix(&» is 
 applied to tlie acuter sound of a concord, on ac- 
 count of the velocity of its vibrations, and op- 
 posed to n^tfioci^, by which he characterizes the 
 graver sound. 
 
 NOT^ 218. 
 P. 181. The other, adapted to action 
 
 AND BUSINESS. 
 
 Ilf axrixov. — See NOTE 45. p. 3. of this volume* 
 
 NOTE 219. 
 
 P. 182. The Poet, in his own person, &c. 
 
 The reader may compare Plato's account of 
 Homer, De Rep. lib. iii. p. 393, ed, Serr. p. 178, 
 ed. Massey. 
 
 ^•1 
 
 Z4 
 
344 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 220. 
 
 P. 182. But Epic Poetry admits 
 
 EVEN THE IMPROBABLE AND INCREDIBLE, 
 FROM WHICH THE HIGHEST DEGREE OF THE 
 SURPRISING RESULTS, BECAUSE, THERE, THE 
 ACTION IS NOT SEEN. 
 
 lt.oi.Xkoy y ivhyirai h ry iTroironoL ro aXoyov^ it* 
 frvfA.^»mi fAocXifx ro iocvfAOCfov, int ro fj,n og»v £if row 
 
 'jT^arrovrm. — Such is the reading which I have fol- 
 lowed. The sense, which I have given it, accords 
 very nearly, if not exactly, with tlmt given by 
 Victorius and Goulston, and adopted by Dacier 
 and M. Batteux *. Victorius supports his emen- 
 dation — AAOrON, instead of avoAoyov — by reasons 
 of considerable cogency : viz. the difficulty, or, 
 rather, the impossibility, of making any satisfac- 
 tory sense of to d»ocXoyo¥, as the rest of the pas- 
 sage stands^; the explanatory instance itself, 
 
 wliich 
 
 • — '' Mais encore plus dans T Epopee, qui va en 
 " cela jusq' au deraisonnable ; car, comme dans TEpopec 
 '' on ne volt pas les personnes qui agissenl, tout ce qui 
 '* passe les bornes de la raison est trcs propre a y pro- 
 
 *^ duire Tadmirable & le merveilleux." Dacier, 
 
 '* L' Epopee, pour etonner encore plus, va jusq*^ a Tin- 
 *' croyable ; parce que ce qui se fait chez die n'est point 
 ♦' juge par les yeux.*' — Batteux. 
 
 ** If avotxcyov be right, it can be understood no other- 
 Vfise, I believe, than adverbially — avakoyus — in proportion ; 
 
 as 
 
 NOTES. 34^ 
 
 which immediately follows, and is, plainly, an in- 
 stance of the ikoyoy, and even expressly called 
 yiXoiov, ridiculous/7/ improbable; and the similar 
 instance, presently after given, of the landing of 
 Ulysses in the Odyssey, which he expressly calls, 
 
 Td iy Oiva-a-Biot A AGFA, &c. 
 
 But, though I think the sense of the passage, 
 thus read, and thus explained, is, in itself, unex- 
 ceptionable, yet I can by no means rely with 
 perfect confidence upon the reading from which it 
 is obtained. All the manuscripts, it seems, give, 
 with one consent, ANAAOrON. This circu.ij 
 
 stance, 
 
 as it has been understood by those commentators who 
 have adhered to that reading. But, in proportion to 
 what P Castelvetro explains it thus : '^ Ma, se si conviene 
 « fare la maraviglia nella Tragedia, molto piu si con- 
 
 *' !!^"^.' ^^ ^ ^^*'^^''' ^ ^^^^^ "^^^* ^Popea secondo proportlone. 
 *' Quasi dtca-~%^ in una attione ristreita al termino d'un 
 '' giorpo, & alio spatio d'un palco, [of a stage,-\ si fa 
 '' maraviglia, che sia d*un grado, si dovra fare in attione 
 ** che sia, pogniamo, di trentasette giorni, c avenuta in 
 « mare & in terra, quale e Tattione compresa neir 
 
 " Odissea, sccondo proportione, di trenta e sette gradi : 
 
 " e, TO ovaxoyov, e detto avcrbialmente, come se fosse, 
 " ^''*^"^'' P- 549— i l^now not how the reader will 
 relish this Rule of Three explanation.^-But what is to be 
 made of the lio, which follows ?— '^ Wherefore'' fi. e. be^ 
 cause the Epic is more capable of the surprising than 
 Tragedy] <rufx0cuyii f^aXtra ro ^aufictrov -" the surprising 
 '* occurs, or is to be found, most in the Epic Poem 
 *' because there the action is not seen."— I sec no other 
 >/> translation of the passage, accordin to the old 
 reading. 
 
 
 
 I., 4I 
 
 i. 
 

 lit- 
 
 346 NOTES. 
 
 stance, in a passage not free, in other respects, 
 from suspicion, should be sufficient to prevent our 
 admitting the emendation of Victorius, however 
 probable, without some reserve — '' expeciamli 
 codices^ I should perhaps, therefore, have done 
 better, had I omitted the doubtful part of tiie 
 
 passage — the words, tq i^xXoyo^^ ho fxaX^fce, e-VjA^ 
 
 fiamt TO ixuiMxrov: for the omission will leave a 
 clear and complete sense; and, moreover, a sense, 
 in which the oniy meaning that can well be given 
 to the words omitted, seems, in fact, to be im- 
 plied. Ail fxsy ik ly rom rftxycohoci; ironiy to t«9- 
 f^oifO¥' fMOcXXov y l^h^sTOCi «v T»j i7ro7rou»y iiot Ta 
 
 fAn of«i> iU rov w^xrroyra, " The surprising is 
 " necessary in Tragedy: but the Epic Poem 
 
 ** admits of it to a greater degree, because, 
 
 " tliere, the action is not seau^ 
 
 NOTE 221. 
 
 P. 183, Achilles making signs, &c. 
 
 The passage is this : 
 
 Aao/o-iy J' ANENETE KAPHATI Ji®bA%iXXfU5-^ 
 OvV ilex, Bfjtsvoct Irrt 'Ejctoj/ ttik^cx. fStXefiva, 
 
 M13 Tig xuJ©- d^OiTO (iotXcoVj Ss SevTSoO^ eXQot. 
 
 IL 22. 205. 
 
 NOTE 222. 
 
 P. 183-4. It consists in a sort of sophism, &c. 
 
 In the words, SC i h iv — to ir^ov^tiyAi^ inclusively, 
 
 the text seems evidently mangled beyond all hope 
 
 7 of 
 
 NOTES. 347 
 
 of conjectural restoration. Tliis ulcus insanabik 
 I presume not to touch, either as commentator, 
 or as translator. I can make nothing consistent' 
 of it myself : I have seen nothing consistent made 
 of it by others. 
 
 The words, t»to $i Ifi v|/£u^©j, are ambiguous^ 
 Victorius doubts, whether they mean, '' this pos- 
 ** tenor/act is false," (the roh ymrxi,) or, '' this 
 *' conclusion is false"— namely, « to i^t^oy 1^, xai 
 TO TT^oTff oj/ tlyxi. What follows, had it been tole- 
 rably clear, would, probably, have fixed the sense 
 of iJ/£U(J(^. As this is not the case, I have given 
 it that sense which appears to me most obvious ; 
 and I think I am warranted by the very same 
 expression used in the same sense, in the Rheto^ 
 ric, II. 23. p. 579, A. where, tn $i tkto 4/fuJ0», 
 clearly means, this is a false conclusion. 
 
 But the most important question is, in what 
 manner Aristotle meant to apply this logical para- 
 logism to Homers management of fiction. None 
 of the commentators, whom I have seen, appear 
 to me to have given any satisfactory explanation. 
 
 The paralogism Tra^' lirofxtyoy, a consequently here 
 alluded to, tiie reader will find clearly explained 
 in several parts of the philosopher's other works *. 
 It consists in taking a proposition as convertible, 
 that is not so. Because rain wets the ground, mc 
 conclude, when we see the ground wet, that it 
 
 must 
 
 * Tom. 1. p. 286, A. and B. Sect. 6, 7, S.—R/iet. II. 24. 
 p. 580, E, ed. Duval, 
 
 41 
 
V 
 
 34^ NOTES. 
 
 must have rained. Because every man in a fever 
 
 is hot, we conclude, that a person who is hot must 
 
 be in a fever : aVayxTi KAI rov h^^ov trii^trruv ^. 
 
 These are some of Aristotle's own explanatory 
 instances.— Now, he tells us here, that Homer's 
 art of It/ing — ^t\)$n Xtym w? $n — consists in im- 
 posing his marvellous fictions upon the reader'f 
 imagination by a sort of poetic sophism, similar 
 to this logical sophism. And this is all he says. 
 He has left us to make out the similitude as well 
 as we can. No writer, I believe, ever paid more 
 frequent compliments of this kind to the sagacity 
 of his readers. 
 
 Dacier, with other commentators, seems to 
 understand nothing more, than that artful inter- 
 mixture of historical, or acknowledged, truth, 
 which, by throwing the mind, as it were, into a 
 posture of belief and conviction, has its effect 
 even upon what we know to be feigned, and makes 
 the false pass glibly with the true. But I cannot 
 think, that this comes up to Aristotle's meaning, 
 nor that his observation, here, amounts only to 
 that of Strabo :—Ik fxn^iyi^ a'A„0«? «\«7rTi«v xa*vi,p 
 
 Ti^aToXoy*av, s^ OfAfi^ixov, x.T.aX^ For no onc 
 
 has atten)pted to shew, and I believe no one can 
 shew, how that, which Aristotle says of the par- 
 ticular paralogism denominated t*^' iwt^tyov, is 
 
 applicable 
 
 Tom, I. uhi supra, 
 * Lib. I.— And see Dacler's note, p. 427, 
 
 NOTES. 3^, 
 
 applicable to the intermixture-the mere juxta- 
 position, of fact and fiction. 
 
 The similitude of the logical and poetic sophism 
 appears to me to be this. It is not merely, that 
 where there is a mixture of history and fiction' 
 the truth makes the fiction pass; but the compa- . 
 rison, I think, relates to the connection between 
 th^ Jictiom of the Poet, considered as cause and 
 effect, as antecedent and consequent. The Poet 
 invents certain extraordinary characters, incidents 
 and situations. When the actions, and the Ian-' 
 guage, of those characters, and, in general the 
 consequences of those events, or situations, as 
 drawn out into detail by the Poet, are such as we 
 know, or think, to be /r«e-that is to say, poeti- 
 cally true, or natural; such, as %ve are satisfied 
 •must necessarily, or would probably, follow, if 
 such characters and situations actually existed • 
 this probability, nature, or truth, of representa-' 
 tion, imposes on us, sufficiently for the purposes 
 of Poetry. It induces us to believe, with hypo- 
 thetic and voluntary faith, the existence of those 
 false events, and imaginary personages, those 
 mi„»ra, ixoyx, ^,^„— those marvellous and in- 
 credible fictions, which, otherwise manacled we 
 should have rejected : tliat b. their improbability 
 or nnposs.bility, would have so forced themselve^ 
 upon our notice, as to destroy, or disturb, even 
 the slight and willing illusion of the moment. 
 
 Whenever, 
 
 m 
 

 
 350 NOTES. 
 
 Whenever, says the pIiiloso[>her, supposirig such 
 a thing to he, it would certainly be tblloued by 
 such effects; if we see those effects^ we are dis* 
 posed to infer the existence of that cause. And 
 thus, in Poetiy, and all fiction, this is tlie logic of 
 that temporary imposition on which depends our 
 pleasure. The reader of a play, or a novel, 
 does not, indeed, syllogize, and s(iy to himself — ' 
 " Suc4i beings as are here supposed, had they 
 " existed, must have acted and spoken exactly 
 ." in this manner; therefore, I believe they haxe 
 " existed :" — but he feels the truth of the pre- 
 mises, and he cojisciits to feel the trudi of the 
 conclusion; he does not revolt from the imagina- 
 tion of such beings. Every thing follows so 
 natumlly, and, even, as it seems, so necessarily, 
 tliat the probability and truth of nature, in the 
 consequences, steals, in a nianner, from our view, 
 even the impossibility of tlie cause, and flings an 
 air of truth over the whole. With respect to 
 Jacty indeed, all is equally vj/iu^©- ; for if the 
 causes exist not, neitlier can the ejects. But the 
 consequent lies are so told, as to impose on us, 
 for the moment, the belief of the antecedent, or 
 fundamental lie ^ 
 
 For instances of this art, no reader can be at a 
 
 loss. He will find them, not only in almost all 
 
 ' the 
 
 ■" Hobbes, with his usual acuteness, observes, that 
 " probable fiction is similar to reasoning rightly from a 
 " false principle." />. 1 3, of his works, Sect. 9, 
 
 NOTES. 351 
 
 tlie "speciosa miracula" of Homer, but even in 
 the wilder and more absurd miracles of Ariosto ; 
 whose poem is, indeed, a striking example of tlie 
 most improbable, and, in themselves, revolting 
 lies', to which, however, every poetical reader 
 willingly throws open his imagination; princi- 
 pally, I believe, from the easy charm of his lan- 
 guage and versification, and Uie remarkable 
 distinctness of his painting ; but, partly too, from 
 the truth and tiature which he has contrived to 
 fling into t\ie detail of his description. But were 
 I to chuse, from the productions of poetic genius 
 at large, an example, which would, singly, illus- 
 trate this passage of Aristotle, more than any 
 other that I recollect, It should be the Caliban of 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 I shall only add, without troubling the reader 
 with any comment of mine, one passage of the 
 Rhetoric, which may serve, both to illustrate the 
 paralogism itself, here alluded to, and to confirm 
 the application which I have given it. In that 
 passage, Aristotle applies the paralogism Truf 
 IrrofAivo,, to the effect of oratorical elocution, in 
 producing persuasion and conviction in the hearers. 
 
 nj9a»o» St TO n^aynx, xa. ^ olxHX AeJ.c ' 
 
 nAPAAOnZETAI y«f „• ^,^r,, coV k-A-iS^f Aiyo^T©., 
 
 QTi, 
 
 • It may. be said of this Poet, in the language of Shak- 
 speare's Coiiolanus, that he has — 
 
 Murder'd impossibility, to make 
 
 What cannot be, slight work.- — Aa v. Sc, 3. 
 
352 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 
 f*ii ¥T«f f;^it, «f AfyuK, ra ir^ayfjLXTx, «twc sp^rti* '. — • 
 " What the Orator says, is, likewise, rendered 
 " probable and credible by a suitable diction and 
 ** elocution. For we are cheated into the per- 
 ** suasion, that the orator speaks truly, merely 
 " because we know that men, so circumstanced 
 " as he assumes to be, are actually affected in 
 " that manner : so that we take it for granted, 
 ** that things are really as the speaker represents 
 '^ them to be, when, in fact, they are not so." 
 
 The art here pointed out by Aristotle, as emi- 
 nent in Homer's poetry, evidently extends to 
 fiction in general ; but, by \{/£u^ti, I understand 
 him to allude, chkflx/y to fictions of the extraor- 
 dinary, marvellous, and improbable kind — such 
 as require the utmost art and management of the 
 Poet to make them pass. The connection of the 
 whole passage, if I am not mistaken, shews this 
 to "be the author's meaning; the application of 
 ^ixih being fixed, both by the terms 9auparo>, and 
 ccXoyov, in what precedes, and by the a^vmrx xa» 
 iiKora, which follow, and which I take to be, or, at 
 least, to include, those very iJ/iuJu XiyofA.iva, tlq 
 in, of which he had, immediately before, been 
 speaking. 
 
 ^ R/iet. III. 7. p. 590. — Sec also, ib, cap.xvl, p. 603, E. 
 sTt, vc Tcwv TTo&r^Tixuv, &c. a passagc, which Victorius citet 
 as illustrating the words — ^la ya^ to il^tvat, &c. 
 
 m^ 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 35J 
 
 NOTE 223. 
 
 P. 186. If, HOWEVEil, ANY THING OF 
 THIS KIND, &C. 
 
 I much doubt of the integrity of the text. The 
 sense I have given seems to be the only one, 
 which the passage, as it now stands, will reason- 
 ably bear. Dacier, after Victorius, understands 
 . ■—" if the admission of me improbable circum- 
 '' stance be the means of giving more probability 
 '• to the rest." I do not well comprehend this : 
 I am sure it is not what Aristotle has said. His 
 -words are, «V Ji 9v, k«, ^«„„^. tJAoy^rtf «— i. e. " if 
 *• he has introduced such a circumstance, or in- 
 " cident, and it (not the rest, the rvhole) has some 
 " appearance of probability," &c. 
 
 I suppose Aristotle meant to say, that, though 
 improbabilities are certainly faults, and ought to 
 be carefully avoided in the first choice and struc-. 
 ture of a fable, yet, they might be so ^vell ma-* 
 naged by a Poet of genius, (especially in the Epic, 
 which is here the subject,) as to appear rathJ- 
 probable— tixcyo,Tt^oy;~tQ pass witli some shew 
 of probability; and, in this case, should be 
 admitted, or tolerated, even though pushed to the 
 «TOToi., or absurd This sense accords perfectly 
 with what immediately follows, which is precisely 
 an instance of such management ; of absurdity, 
 or, at least, improbability, (t« U 0^«<ra-«« dxoyx—) 
 veiled by the charms of poetry, and finding almost 
 
 41 
 *\ 
 
 II 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 A A 
 
 as 
 

 354 NOTES. 
 
 as ready an admission into the imagination of the 
 reader, under the passport of the beauties by 
 which it is accompanied, as if it were, in itself, 
 ever so consonant to nature and experience. With 
 respect to the words — Iv^fp^fcrSxj xa» drowo¥ — it 
 seems necessary to adopt one or the other of the 
 two manuscript readings — tx^t^itriony or ocTrofe- 
 p^i(r6a«. The former of these verbs Mr. Winstan- 
 ley takes in the sense of dru^yetvy xwAuffy, upon 
 the authority of Suiclas. But in the very passage 
 adduced by that lexicographer, the immediate 
 sense of Ixh^t^rixi is, to receive. Fi^^x n 7r«fa- 
 
 riTctyiAivoc ijv, tU ro EKAEXE20A1 t« tuv (^x^^x^ccv 
 
 rQ^ti[Axra. 1. e. to receive them ; and 6y receiving 
 them to keep them off from their bodies. ArcerCy 
 here, is only what we may call the consequential 
 meaning of the word. I do not see, that it may 
 tiot, in this place, very well bear the sense of 
 receivings admit ting, or, rather, tolerating: but 
 of this I would not be understood to speak posi- 
 tively. This seems, at least, to be the sense, 
 which the purport of the passage requires ; and 
 it refers, I think, not to the Poet himself^ as some 
 understand it, but to the audience, or tlie reader. 
 When Aristotle has just said, av h 9p— i. e. ** but 
 " if he has introduced, or admitted it,'' how can 
 he be understood to add, " he should admit it?'* 
 Fartlier, the word dviyLrxy (tolerabiiia,) which, in 
 the instance immediately subjoined, clearly relates 
 to the hearer, or reader, seems sufficiently to fix 
 5 the 
 
 NOTES. 3^^ 
 
 the same reference of the correspondent word 
 
 £x<r£;^g(r8a», or X7ro^Bp^s<rixi, here. ' 
 
 Mr, Harris, in his PhiloL Inquiries, p. 220 
 
 though he has not quoted, or translated, this par' 
 
 ticular passage, appears, pretty clearly, to allude 
 
 to It, and to have understood the verb as here<?x- 
 
 plained. Hfe says, speaking of mprobabilities in 
 
 the drama-<' 'Tis true, indeed, did such plays 
 
 ^^ ea^ist, [dy $, e^,-] <' and were their other dra- 
 
 " "^atic requisites good, these improbabilities 
 
 ^1 might be endured, and the plays be still ad- 
 
 mired." 
 
 The version of Piccolomini agrees with mine — 
 1^' Ma se, ponendovisi poi qualche cosa, che in se 
 ♦^' habbia del non ragionevole, si adornerd, e si 
 "^^ tratterd,inmamera, ch'ella apparir possa ragio- 
 " nevole, potr^, in tal caso, trovarvi l.iogo." p. 392. 
 
 if 
 
 NOTE 224. 
 
 •P. 186. The absurdity is concealed 
 
 UNDER THE VARIOUS BEAUTIES, &c. 
 
 In tlie language of Pindar, i- 
 
 VTTS^ Tov d\y}6rj Xoyov, 
 SeSociSocXf^evoi j^evSetri TfOiKiXoig* 
 
 — XAPIS 
 
 • •* L'homme est de glace aux verites, 
 " 11 est de feu pour \cs mensonges " 
 
 La Fontaine, Fab, 174. 
 A A 2 
 
|4 
 
 Li 
 
 k 
 
 1 
 
 I* 
 
 S5& . N O. T E S. 
 
 XAPIZ S\ i'TTS^ UTTOCVTOC T6V^ 
 
 ILM AniITON 'EMHSATO ni£TON 
 EMMENAI . OlympA. 
 
 The reader, I believe, will be pleased with the 
 comparison of a poetical passage so remarkably 
 apposite to this observation of the philosopher) 
 and, indeed, to all this part of his treatise, relative 
 to the management of fiction. 
 
 On account of the same general relation to the 
 subject, I may be excused for adding these agree- 
 able lines oi Plautus: — 
 
 Sed quasi Poeta, tabulas cum cepit sibi, 
 Quaerit quod nusquam est gentium, reperit tamen, 
 Facit illud verisiinile quod niendacium est, — 
 Nunc ego Poeta fiam. Pseud» Act I. Sc. 4. 
 
 NOTE 225. 
 P. 186. The idle parts of the Poem — . 
 
 'APFA fjLi^n, The expression is best explained, 
 according to my idea of it, by Castelvetro. — 
 
 " Dobbiamo intendere per parti otiose^ 
 
 quelle, nelle quali il poeta parla di sua personCy 
 e con javella sua ci fa vedere quello che si fa : 
 le quali percio si domandano, /a£^>j «^y«, che 
 non sono in atto, ed operanti, come sono 
 quelle, le quali sono rappresentate in palco, e 
 quelle, nelle quali per gli poeti epopei sono 
 
 *' introdotte 
 
 ti 
 
 t< 
 
 tc 
 
 it 
 
 i€ 
 
 NOTES. 35, 
 
 introdotte le persone ctfavellare ; le quali parti, 
 " perche paiono pressoche montare in palco, ed 
 
 operare, si contrapongono alle parti otiose, e 
 
 contengono, principalmente, le sententie^ ed, 
 ** accessoriamente, i costumi*' p, 578. 
 
 Dacier's '' parties foibles,'' in which he is fol-^ 
 lowed by M. Batteux, presents a different, and, 
 I think, a wrong idea. ^ 
 
 it 
 
 i< 
 
 a 
 
 NOTE 226. 
 
 P. 186-7. In which neither manners 
 
 NOR sentiments PREVAIL. 
 
 It has been inquired, why Aristotle here passes 
 over m silence the passionate parts of the Poem ; 
 to which a laboured and splendid diction seems as 
 ill suited, as it is to the expression of manners and 
 sentiments. This inquiry has produced another ; 
 whether he did, or did not, mean to include the 
 passionate parts in itavoriTntoig. Madius contends 
 that he did : Victorius, that he did not. 1 believe 
 the latter is right. For if we take i^xyoix, here, 
 in that wide sense which is given it in cap. xix *. it 
 will include " xvhatever is the object of speech f — 
 " every thing," as Mr. Hanis has explained it, 
 *' for which men employ language ^" If, there- 
 fore, the ^fpu <^*airo»jTtxa, here, comprehend those 
 thoughts which express passion, they will also 
 comprehend such as express manners, or character; 
 
 from 
 
 • Transl />. 159. vol. i. ^ PhiloL Inq. p. I73,&c, 
 
 A A 3 
 
 'I: 
 
u 
 
 I 
 
 35* NOTES. 
 
 from which Aristotle expressly distinguishes them: 
 
 But, whether he did, or did not, mean to include 
 the passionate parts of the Poem, it seems true, 
 and he would probably have allowed it, that such 
 a diction as he here describes is improper for the 
 expression oipassmi : nor is this at all inconsistent, 
 as, on a superficial view, it may seem to be, with 
 the following passage in his Rhetoric— Ta ^i 
 
 ipofAOcrot, Tx sViflsTa, xat ^urAa vXnu, xott ra ^ivoc, 
 fAocXifoc d^fxoTTEi AfyokTi nAeHTIKX22- cruyyvw^*, 
 
 itTTSiy \ &c. The strons and figurative lansua^e. 
 and, what may be called, the natural Poetry of 
 passion— a sort of Poetry which we every day hear 
 from the mouths of those, who never made, and 
 scarce, perhaps, ever read, a verse —this is a very 
 different thing from* the AIAnONEIN Asff*, the 
 MAN AAMnPA Xf^if, of which the philosopher 
 here speaks.— But, for an exact, though short, 
 discussion of this subject, with its proper distinc- 
 tions and limitations, I must refer the reader to 
 an excellent note on v. 94, of Horace's Epistte to 
 the ^isos ^ It will be found, I think, perfectly 
 consistent with both the passages of Aristotle here 
 considered, and will afford the best support to the 
 above remarks.— See note 2oq. 
 
 . *= J^Aet.llL 7. ^ 59o,E. 
 
 ^ Dr. Kurd's Ho. ace, vol. i. See, pardcularly, 
 p. 79» 80. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 35? 
 
 NOTE 227. 
 
 • P. 187. Obscured by too splendid a 
 
 DICTION. 
 
 rfin %on raq ^locvoixg, — In the same sense, in w^hich 
 syxf uirTgrat is used, in a similar passage ofLonginus, 
 Sect. 15. — where, speaking of the effect of lively 
 imagery, in stealing one's attention from argument ^ 
 
 he says, ^ua-£* $t. 9r«f, \y rojf T0«8T0if «?7ra(n>, oiii rs 
 x^nrrov^ «x»o^£i/* iiiv, aVo th JtVoJ'njcTixa Trt^i- 
 iXnofxiiix iU TO xxToc 0Mra<nocv UirXnxriicov, w to 
 v^ocyixoLTiycov ErKPTnTETAI nEPlAAMnOMLNON. 
 
 — So also, Sect, 1 7. — AIIEKPTi'E to (r;j^»i/xa 
 
 Tw $nTI ATTIli. — And again — $10, AAMIIPOTHTA 
 
 rnv rtxynv AIIOSKIAZEI, xa* oiov Iv KATA- 
 
 KAATIKEI T„^f». 
 
 The following passage of the Rhetoric^ con- 
 cerning the mixture of the argumentative with the 
 pathetiCy will also help to illustrate that before 
 
 us. — Ka* QTOLy TToA^ 'Jrotvig, fxn Xiyi Ivivfxnixx * i yap 
 
 ixxf«H<ri yx^ cci xivna-ug aAAijAa?, di ocfMA' xat r 
 AOANIZOT2IN, if affimif noiinny, Rkct. IIJ. 17. 
 p. 604, E. 
 
 In the same manner the expression of Aristotle 
 is well explained by Piccohmini, in his commen- 
 tary, /). 394. 
 
 
 A A 4 
 
360 
 
 N O 
 
 T E S. 
 
 It ~ 
 I 
 
 NOTE 228. 
 
 P. 189. In words, either common, or 
 
 FOREIGN, &C. 
 
 ^ At^u n x«i yX«TTa*f— . Ileins. KTPIAi A«fii, 
 f» xa» yAwTTaif. The insertion seems necessary, 
 but would, perhaps, be better thus: Aifi*, H 
 KTPIAi, if Kxi yXuTTotig, &c, Victorius and otlier 
 commentators suppose x«fi« to be understood. 
 But this I cannot conceive. Atf k appears clearly 
 to be used here, as in cap. xxii. for diction in ge- 
 neral, including, as in tliat chapter, every sort 
 of words. 
 
 NOTE 229. 
 
 P. 189. Which are the privilege of 
 Poets. 
 
 AIAOMEN ya( ravra tok Troitircn^. The same 
 
 expression is made use of by Isocrates, in the 
 following passage, to which I refeired in note 5. 
 vol. i. p. 239, and in which the privileges and ad- 
 vantages of the Poet are well set forth, and the 
 importance of verse to the effect of even the best 
 poetry, is strongly insisted on. 
 
 Tmg fiiv yuq Troifjraig ttoXXoi AEAONTAI 
 Tcocix^oi. Kat yoc^ TrXr^tria^ovTotg Toiq avO^uTroig 
 r\iq Sii^g iiovT ocvroig l^i TTOiriTcci, koci hocXiyo- 
 [iBVfgg, KXi (njvccymi^ofiivug, hig dv iSaXridcoa-i ' tcou 
 'TTB^i TUTm SriXeoa-ui, [x,7j fiovov roig TBTuy/jievotg * 
 
 * mayf4,emi, iiere, is e(juivalent to Aristotle's jw/^mmj ; as, 
 MMvoii, to his 'jTiirctrifimi^, and imi^, to his y>mraii. 
 
 N 6 T E S. 36, 
 
 i»efta<r,v, dxXu, rcc f^u, ^emg, rx Se, xcavoic, rx 
 is, fiSTitipo^ocr Kcct i^n^ev irct^uXtvM, dxXoc Traa-t 
 TOig elSstri lottrornXou rriv -TToiria-iv. Toi{ Se Treat 
 TKff Xoyifff QSev IPe^, ru>v ro^nrm- uXX' dtrorofiug, 
 xat rm 'ovoftccTmv toi; mXiTiKotg \ xa« tuv hOv'- 
 
 *5-' X^<r&oci. U^o? h TiSToi?, 0, fjuv fjierx f^er^coy 
 
 *CU '^uSl^uv aTTMTK TTOtwr 0( Se ^Sev^ THTm 
 
 xo^vuvwiV d To,r«vrr,v 'ex^> ^yv, «V. «V x«, 
 ry Xe^e,,xcci rotg 'ev9vfiriu«<rtv, l^f Kcaut(, ofjuti 
 rati ye ev^v$i*ixis kou rcuq ovfifjieT^ix,; ^vxayu- 
 
 yaa-l TK? MOSOfTOCS. KctTOCfiddoi S' dv Tts Uidev 
 
 T^v Swocf^tv ocCtuV ,V ycc^ rtg tuv mtrjftxTm rm 
 eCSoKifiwrm rot. fiev Svofiocrcc xct, rxg S,»m»g 
 KXTocXfjTT, TO Se METPON SiotXvcrv, <f>ccv7i(reru, 
 •TToXu xctrxSee^e^cc T,f So^,,s, ,V my' 'exo[*tv m^, 
 «vru,v \ See note 5. vol. i. p. 240, the passage 
 from Plato. 
 
 
 NOTE 230. 
 
 P. 189. What is right in the poetic 
 
 ART, IS A distinct CONSIDERATION FROM 
 WHAT IS RIGHT IN THE POLITICAL, Oli ANT 
 OTHER ART. 
 
 This is one of those passages, which the com- 
 mentators appear to me to have darkened by 
 illustration. See, particularly, Dacier's note. His 
 account of the difference between Poetry and aU 
 other 
 
 ^^^i—^— — ^^^— ^— ^-^ - - I H Ml 1 
 
 » See note 57. p. 36. « Euag. cirt. init. 
 
 {■ 
 
$60 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 228. 
 
 P. 189. In words, either common, or 
 
 Ji'OREIGX, &C. 
 
 Ae^n »} xfti yXuTTociq — . Ileitis, KTPIAt Aijfi, 
 »! xat yAwTTflsif. The insertion seems necessary, 
 but would, perhaps, be better thus : Aifit, H 
 KTPIAt, >; xa* yXurraiff &c, Victorius and otlier 
 commentators suppose xw^i« to be understood. 
 But this I cannot conceive. Aigic appears clearly 
 to be used here, as in cap. xxii. for diction in ge- 
 neral, including, as in that chapter, every sort 
 of words. 
 
 NOTE 229. 
 
 P. 189. Which are the privilege of 
 Poets. 
 
 AIAOMEN yct^ ravroi roif TroinTaif. The same 
 expression is made use of by IsocrateSy in the 
 following passage, to which I refeixed in note 5. 
 vol. i. p. 239, and in which the privileges and ad- 
 vantages of tlie Poet are well set forth, and the 
 importance of verse to the effect of even the best 
 poetry, is strongly insisted on. 
 
 Tmq fiiv yoc^ TroirjTOtig ttoXXoi AEAONTAI 
 xotrfjLOi. Kui yuo TrXr^Cioc^ovTug Toig dvQouTTotg 
 rag Ssag oiovt ocvroig If* ttoititoci, ycoct ciaXeyo^ 
 fjLSvvg, Koct aruvocycovi^o^Bvag, otg ocv jSaXridua-i' kou 
 *7r6oi TUTuv d7}Xci}(rociy jjctj i^ovov TOig TiTocyfjtsvotg * 
 
 * riTixyfAtvoii, here, is etpjivalent to Aristotle's wfioij; as, 
 Mjuvoii, to iiis 'jTETrcinfJLivoii, and ievoi^j to his yXuvrcui, 
 
 N 6 T E S. 361 
 
 ovof4Ct(nv, aAXa, ra ^e:/, ^emg, ra. Je, \L(x.mig, rot 
 Se, fABru(po^ocig' koci i^^i/jSev Troc^ocXiTTBiv, uXXoc Traa-i 
 TOig eldetTi SiotTTotKiXoct rtjif ttoivjo-iv. Totg Jg tteoi 
 rag Xoyag iliv l^e^t roov toihtuv' aXX' ccTroTOfiug, 
 icon 'Ttav ovo[ioiTm roig TToXirtKoig **, koci tuv JvSy- 
 firif/.a,TU)v T$ig tte^i uvrocg rag Tr^oc^etg^ oivocyycociov 
 ig-i x^yia-Qoci. U^og Se rarotg, 01 fjLev fjitroe, fiEToeav 
 Koti '^v9[/,cav ccTrotVTOi irotaa-r it Ss iSev®. tutojv 
 xotvupna-iv i ro<ToL\}Tf[V l^ti %af/i/, dJf , iv koci 
 Tin Xe^e;, Koct roig h6uf4.r}uoi(riv, exn TcuKug, ificag 
 rocig yi iv^vQfjtixig xa< rxtg a-vfJLfJL^r^iotig i^vxocyu^ 
 yacri rag oacnofTocg. KocrocfjixOoi S* dv rig eKadBv 
 ryjv cvvocfiiv avTuV ifi/ ya^ rig tuv TTotfjf^cotTuv tup 
 
 6V^0X.tf/,liVTUV TO, fZBV OVO^OCTOC xa/ 70Cg SiocPoiccg 
 
 KocTocXiTrri, to Se METPON ^iocXv(rri, (pavfja-eroct 
 TToXv KocTocSeege^oc tt^ So^fjg, ^g vvv exo[^ev Treot 
 axiTm \ See note 5. vol. i. p. 240, the passage 
 from Plato. 
 
 %■» 
 
 1.1 
 
 NOTE 230. 
 
 P. 189. What is right in the poetic 
 
 ART, IS A DISTINCT CONSIDERATION FROM 
 WHAT IS RIGHT IN THE POLITICAL, OR ANY 
 OTHER ART. 
 
 This is one of those passages, which the com- 
 mentators appear to me to have darkened by 
 illustration. See, particularly, Dader\ note. His 
 account of the difference between Poetry and all 
 
 Qthe%^ 
 
 _ \ 
 
 ^ Sec note 57. p. 36. « Euag. cin. init. 
 

 362 
 
 NOTES. 
 other arts, seems evidently false. What Aristotle 
 says of Poetry— that it has two kinds of faults, 
 essential, and incidental— is, at least, true of all 
 other imitative arts. It is even true, as Beni has 
 shewn, of Rhetoric and Logic *. Aristotle only 
 says, (to give the passage literally J " the rijrhtncss 
 " of the poetic, and the rightness of the political 
 " art, are not the same ; nor of any other art and 
 " the poetic art." The plain meaning of which 
 appears to me to be that which I have given - 
 that tlie o^GoTtif, or rectitude, of Poetry itself, is 
 not to be confounded with that of Politics, nor of 
 any other art tliat may be the incidental subject of 
 the Poetry, which, in itself, may be good, and 
 even excellent, though it may deliver things false 
 or inaccurate in Politics, Natural History, Navi- 
 gation, Geography, &c. This sense of the passage 
 seems clear of all the difficulties with which the 
 common explanation is embarrassed, and leads 
 naturally to the following division of the faults of 
 Poetry, iiito essential and incidental. — Castelvetro 
 is the only one, of the commentators I have con- 
 sulted, who appears to agree with me, if I under- 
 stand 
 
 » *« Nam Rhetorica & Dialectica suos egredi fines 
 « Solent, & in alicnos campos exciirrcre, perinde fere ac 
 « nos de Poetica docemus. I'cmere igitur Aristoteles, 
 <* quod inter Poeticam & Politlcam notavit discrimen, 
 « idem inter Poeticam, rursus, ac caeteras artes, notasset : 
 •« nam Rheiorica & Dialectica ejusdem videri possunt 
 « rectitudinis cum Poetica/' Bmi Comm. in Jrist. 
 Poet. /». 460. 
 
 NOTES. ^63 
 
 stand iiim rightly, in this explanation of the 
 passage ^ 
 
 The allusion, here, to the severe objections of 
 
 Plato, who would allow of Poetry no farther 
 
 than as it could be made to coincide with the 
 
 views of his own strict and moral legislation, has 
 
 been sufficiently pointed out. The reader may 
 
 see, particularly, a fine passage to this purpose in 
 
 the seventh book of his Laws, [p. 817, ed, &rr,] 
 
 where, addressing the Tragic Poets, lie refuses to 
 
 admit them into his republic, till the magistrates 
 
 have satisfied themselves, by inspection of their 
 
 poems, that they contain nothing but what is in 
 
 perfect unison with the laws and uioral discipline 
 
 of the state.-M, J, ^og.r. r>a, p^cT.coc yi ^Vc, u^^^ 
 
 ffOTi 7r«fl' iu^y Ua-iiu, (rx>jm? n Trn^ocvrag kxt 
 dyo^xy, xct, icjcA\i^uu<ig CTrox^^rocg HfTxyoi^iyni, fxsi^oy 
 ^^^yyof^,U3<: n>c.., iTr^r^i^s., C^., Sr^f^r.yopH, Tr^og ttoc^oc^ 
 
 roL<; iTTiTn^.i^ocTcu Tn^i ^„ roc ocurx XTre^ ^^,,^^ «'xa', 
 cJff TO TToXv, xoci lyxvTix rx irXH^X. 'i.yj^^y y^^ „, 
 
 X> fAXl,0,fMi^X T£AE«f „>£;f T£ KXi ^TTXTX ^ TTOXif, lirif 
 
 Hy Cfxiy in,r^,^oi S^xy rx yvy Xiyofj^iyx, Tr^iy x^iv«i rx^ 
 aeX^f- «^'^« P*JT« x^i UiTfihix fniroi^ytxTZ Xiyuy ,1; ro 
 fMBiroy, ilr, ^„. Nu. hV, c^ ^^,^,^ f^xXxKu^y ^«,r«v 
 Uyoyo^, h^Si^^xyr,; ro^ d^;^^<ri ^^cotov rxi u^£T£^«^ 
 ^oc^x rxg ifMiTE^xi fioV^f, dy fxiy rx xCrx yt, ^ xa» 
 PAtio), fx frx^ Cfxuy (pxiynrxt Xiyofj^iyx, ^uxrofAiy u>iv 
 X^fck- ii <r< fxn, w (piXoi, »x xy ttoti ^uj/at^eOa.— 
 
 ^ 2)g 
 
 - Sec p. 592, and 599, ot Jiis commentary. 
 
 
 * 
 
364 NOTES. 
 
 De Leg. VII. p. 817.— To this way of talking it 
 
 was a plain and direct answer, to say— Ou^' i 
 
 avrn o^9«Tr)f* Ip ruf HOAITIKHS x«i rtji HOIH- 
 
 TIKH2. 
 
 In what is added — i^t aXAn? nx^ni xa» ironj" 
 Tixtif— Aristotle may, I think, be supposed to 
 glance more particularly at that part of the tenth 
 book of riato*s liepubliCy where he exposes the 
 idle notion, current among the rhapsodists, that 
 Homer was a perfect master of all aits and 
 sciences. And with respect to the absurdity of 
 this notion, Aristotle undoubtedly agreed with him. 
 But there was danger, lest the credit of Homer 
 should suffer from the manner in which Plato 
 combated this idea. For those extravagant admi- 
 rers of Homer not only asserted the^^c^, that he 
 had an accurate knowledge of every art and science 
 . on which he touched, but they went farther, and 
 maintained, that such accuracy was essential to a 
 good Poet : Avayxn yx^, they urged, tov «y«Oov 
 
 i\hr» d^oc TTOUiVy »i /*») otovn tlvoci vomt . Now 
 
 Plato, whose object here is to vindicate his rigid 
 
 exclusion 
 
 ' This very word, 6^9ojni, is often used by Fiato ; and, 
 particularly, in this passage, which perhaps Aristotle had 
 in his view — Kourot y^tywt ye oi '7r>£trot, fut(nxni *OP0O- 
 THTA slvcu Tnv h'^om taii ^^vxaii ^of i^acrov ^wofMv. — An 
 idea which he rejects with abhorrence. The word 
 (AWMYi here is used in its widest acceptation, including 
 Poetry. De.Leg/ii. 6^^^ 
 
 * Rep. X. p. 598, E. ^^. Sen. 
 
 NOTES. - 365 
 
 exclusion of all mimetic poetry, and that of //o;«er 
 
 in particular, from his republic, confutes the fact, 
 
 without confuting the general position. While he 
 
 shews the pretensions of the Ilomerists to be false, 
 
 he see?ns, at least, to allow, that they ot/ght to be 
 
 true. For he flings in no savings ; he no where 
 
 says, what Aristotle has here said for him— that 
 
 the want of this supposed accurate knowledge of 
 
 arts and sciences no way affects the character of 
 
 Homer as a Poet. By denying that he had that 
 
 knowledge, and, at the same time, not denying, or 
 
 not cvpressly denying, that he ought to have it, he 
 
 leaves the reader to understand, that he meant to 
 
 detract, on this account, from his merit as an 
 
 imitator. And this, indeed, is perfectly consonant 
 
 to the whole design of this part of his work, which 
 
 was, to discredit poetic imitation in general, by 
 
 shewing the distance of its representations from 
 
 truth ^. 
 
 • This fanciful argument is thus shortly and clearly 
 stated in the Comment, on the Ep. to the Pisos, &c. vol. i. 
 p. 254. " Poetical expression," says the philosopher 
 [Ptato], '' is the copy of the Poet's own conceptions ; the 
 '' Poet's conception, of things, and things, of the standing 
 " archetype, as existing in the divine mind. Thus the 
 
 Poet's expression is a copy at third hand, from the 
 " primary, original truth."— See Plato De Rep, 10. 
 P- 597> 59^' — To prove his point the better, he shews, 
 that the Poet's conceptions are distant even from the truth 
 of things, because his knowledge of those things is im- 
 perfect and inaccurate. ?• 598, 599. 
 
 « 
 
 a 
 
 ii 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 r; 
 
366 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 231. 
 
 P. 189. The faults of Poetry, &c. 
 
 The original is — ATTHX ^e rrj? Troirrtxtif ^nm 
 i di^A^r^a,. The word dMrr^i; appears to me to make 
 strange confusion. For Aristotle is here distin- 
 guishing two sorts of faults in Poetry, esseyitial and 
 accidental ; and his expression, presently after, for 
 the former, is ATTH2 17 a>a^Tia— " a fault of the 
 *' Poetry itself'' As the text stands, therefore, 
 it is just as if he had said — " There are two faults 
 " of the Poetry itself: one, of the Poetry itself 
 *' and the other, incidental^ — Accordingly Dacier, 
 Batteux, and almost all the translators, neglect the 
 word auTti?. Possibly it might, originally, have 
 
 stood thus: — ih aAXnf TE^vv^y xat TroiHTun? auT»f. 
 Tuf AE ^roiUTix*)^, &C^ 
 
 NOTE 232. 
 
 P. 189. If the Poet has undertaken 
 TO imitate without talents for imita- 
 tion - - -. 
 
 E» ufv yap iroosiXtro p»jutu<r«ff-Oai aJuva^iAiav. — So, 
 
 the MSS. But divpaiMicc never, I believe, means 
 impossibility, but want of ponver^ incapacity \ 
 This was, long ago, sufficiently proved by Victorius. 
 If the word be right, some preposition must be 
 
 wanting. 
 
 m > i . II , ■ ■ ' 
 
 • A^yyoiJLia ^e in STEPHSIS ATNAMEa2. Mdafh. 
 V. 12. p. 893, C, 
 
 NOTES. 367 
 
 wanting^. Heinsius supplies — KAT' d^wotixixv. 
 The credit of the conjecture is due to Castelvetro \ 
 Still the phrase, fxifAYKTo^o'^on \%t oi$vvxij,iocv, for 
 imitating without ability, or talents, for imitation, 
 is haj'sh, and, as far as I know, unsupported by 
 any other example. It seems not improbable, 
 that Aristotle might have written it — IIAPA ATNA- 
 MIN. Supposing the three first letters of tlie 
 preposition to have been destroyed, the passage 
 would stand thus — /tAi/uijo-ao-Gat * * AATNAMIN : 
 which it was obvious enough for the transcriber to 
 viiscorrect into aVvva/unA^. The phrase, w^ouXero 
 /Ai^»](ra(rOai ^a^a (Tuva/Aij/, would be clear and unex- 
 ceptionable. So, cap, ix. — vot^a mv ^vmfAiv Tra^a- 
 
 Victorius remarks, and, I think, justly, that 
 Horace probably had his eye upon tliis passage, in 
 the lines — 
 
 Sumite materiam vestris, qui scribitis, sequam 
 Viribus ; et versate diu, quid ferre recusent, 
 Quid valeant, humeri. Cui lecta potenter erit 
 res, &c. Epist. ad Pis. V. 38, &c. 
 
 — where Aristotle's Tr^oon^uc^ui, he thinks, is ex- 
 pressed by " sumite materiam," and, ** lecta res :" 
 and KocT d^vvafAixv glanced at in the other expres- 
 sions, but, particulariy, in the adverb — " po- 
 tenter'^ 
 
 •M*. 
 
 ^ P. 602, of his commentary. 
 
m 
 
 368 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 233. 
 P. 190. To HAVE REPRESENTS THINGS 
 IMPOSSIBLE WITH RESPECT TO SOME OTHER 
 ART, &C. 
 
 No interpretation that I have seen, or been 
 able to devise, of this whole ambiguous, perplexed, 
 and, probably, mangled passage, is without jts 
 diflSculties. All I could do was, to chuse that, 
 TV hich, after the closest attention to the original, 
 and to the best comments, appeared to me " mi- 
 nimis urgeri." I will not attempt to drag the 
 reader after me, through the detail of my own 
 doubts and embarrassments. But lest my version, 
 from that degree of closeness, to which, in all 
 passat^es where the meaning is doubtful, I have 
 thought it right to confine myself, should retain, in 
 some degree, the ambiguity, or obscurity, of the 
 original, some explanation may be necessary. 
 
 By the various expressions, /utnAtjo-ao-Oai xar 
 
 ihyoL^ixy — ajwa^rtot 1! xaG' a\iry\)t — auT»)f — xaO 
 
 lauTify, and, above all, by KAKOMIMHTIiS ly^a^h 
 which seems to fix clearly the sense of the rest, 
 Aristotle means, I think, to indicate all such 
 faults as are incompatible with good imitation — 
 that is, in his view, with good Poetry. All other 
 faults he denominates,, xara (ruiuPf/Btix®* — incidental. 
 Faults he allows them to be; but smaller, and 
 
 m 
 
 more pardonable, faults : EAATTON y«e, 11 f*»i 
 ijVii, &c. In this class he reckons, tte «Vuk«T«— 
 
 things 
 
 NOTES. 369 
 
 things im^ssible. The expression is unhappily 
 ambiguous : for we may understand either d^mo^rx 
 in general, or, aVu.^ra kxt' lo^rpixnv « «'aAk. rsxy^y. 
 The commentators are divided. I cannot be of 
 their party, who adopt the first of these senses. 
 I see not how impossibilities, or absnrdities *, in 
 general, could, consistently with Aristotle's prin- 
 ciples, be admitted by him into the number of 
 merely incidental faults ^-xara ^vf^.p^yt^^such 
 as affected not the Poetri/ itself We must, I 
 think, understand— «.>apr„^^r« rf aVumra— things 
 inaccurate, or, what is worse, impossible, xo^r Uxs-ny 
 rsx^ny-'upon the principles of some other art \ 
 
 Aristotle then goes on, and applies his solution, 
 founded on the foregoing distinction, to the norst 
 species of such incidental faults— to things cl^vmrc,. 
 Take, he says, the worst : suppose tlie Poet to 
 have represented something impossible, with respect 
 to some particular art, as that of medicine, geo- 
 graphy, &c. This, strictly speaking, is a fault ; 
 
 ^.^ ■_ but 
 
 • That the aouvara here meant are not what he after- 
 wards calls '^i9ava d^wara, probable impossibHu/es, but such 
 as he denominates oAoya, is plain from his instance ; sraoa- 
 Cityfxa, h T« ^ExTo^og hta^ig, which he had, in the preceding 
 chapter, expressly given as an instance of the cJKoyov. 
 See Traml. p. 182, 183. vol. i. 
 
 * In recapitulating the different critical objections to 
 which Poets were exposed, he expressly selects impro' 
 bability, and vitious manners, as the justest grounds of cen- 
 sure. Ofd»j ^E STrm/JLYiJig, xat AAOHA xxii fxoyjrjiac. 
 Cap. penult, 
 
 ** So M. Batteux: see his note on the passage. 
 VOL. I J. B B 
 
 11 
 
370 NOTES. 
 
 hut it is a fault that may even be justljitd (IpU 
 l^ci,) if, by meaus of it, the Poet has answered, 
 better than he could have done without it, the end 
 of his oum art, &c.— Still, he continues, supposing 
 this not to be the case, we are to consider, whether 
 the fault, admitting it to be a fault, be t«» xoctx 
 rn9 ri^vf^Vf ij xat' dxxo (ru/x(3£Pn)t©', &c. — If the 
 pursuit of Hector cannot be absolutely j/^*//^^/ by 
 the 6«ufx«ray, the exTrAngi? which is produced by it, 
 still it is not xaxojoti/ixnTWf yty pot [xfxiyov ; tlic Poctjy 
 is good, and the end of Poetry, the pleasure arising 
 from the wonderful and the striking, is actually 
 attained, though it be true, th^t it might have been 
 attained without the fault in question. 
 
 By the expression, t« tt^o? aJT»> rn¥ nx^rw a^u- 
 vara, I understand— with respect to the art of 
 which the Poet speaks ; not, with respect to the 
 art of Poetry itself : though I confess the latter 
 sense to be that, which the words, avmu tuw Tt^i"!*, 
 the art itself, most naturally present. But this 
 sense of the expression seems to me to be utterly 
 irreconcilable with the sense of the whole passage. 
 In rejecting it I have the concurrence of Victorius, 
 Piccolomini, and M. Batteux.— Besides, that the 
 expression itself seems to be jargon. Tor, what 
 are ** things impossible to, (or, xcith respect to,) the 
 " art of Poetry itselfT'— The only reasonable 
 meaning of the phrase is — things, which it is 
 bei/ond the pmcer of the art to represent or imitate ; 
 as it is beyond the power of painting to imitate 
 * 2 sounds. 
 
 NOTES. 371 
 
 ^ sounds \ But how can the phrase be applied, as 
 Dacier applies it, to the oixoyoy, " deraisonnable— 
 " tout ce qui est absurder Is it not just as 
 possibk for Poetry to represent a horse flying, as 
 a ship sailing ?— The sense, which I have given, 
 seems also supported by the antithetic expres- 
 sion that follows— Tix®^ TO 'ATTHS— *« its awn 
 purpose;" and still more by the clearer phrase 
 which be presently after uses--T»5v HEPr TOTTXlN 
 tiX^r^y—'' the art to which these things belong:' 
 
 I must, however, repeat my confession, that no 
 passage of tliis treatise appears to me to be of 
 more desperate perplexity than this ; nor is there 
 any of the numerous and stubborn difficulties I 
 Imve had to encounter, of which I wish to be 
 understood to offer my solution with less confidence. 
 Here, as in many otiier places, had I waited for 
 perfect satisfaction, I might have stood still for 
 ever : — 
 
 Kuvu, og ev T^iodoitn TroXuT^iTrrouri zvorjcctc 
 Eg-ri efpo^^aivm ' yc^ochyi ^£ 01 ccXXore Xocitjv, 
 AXXoTB Se^iTB^i^v eTTifiocXXeroci eig oSov IxSeiy, 
 UaTTTuivBi ^' Ixargf 9e • vo©^ ^g 01 -^vtb kvuoc 
 EiXeiTott, — fiotXoc S' cil/s fzirig u^s^txTO (SiiXyjg ^ 
 
 IT 
 
 ' Plato uses— aci/vara EN rri te^vjt, in tliis sense :— 
 Kv^E^vynvi ax^^y h /arf®-, ra te AATNATA EN THi 
 TEXNHi, HOI ra ^wara, haia-SaviTai, Rep, U. p. -^60. 
 td, Serr, 
 
 * Oppian. 'A}4€U7. III. 501, &c* 
 
 B B 3 
 
 ■^1 
 
 0- 
 
372 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 234. 
 
 P. 190. According to what has beej?' 
 
 ALREADY SAID OF THAT END. 
 
 To yoL^ rtx^ EIPHTAI. This reading has been 
 questioned ; but, I think, without sufficient reason. 
 It may very well be understood to refer to all that 
 Aristotle had said, or, at least, hinted, about the 
 end of the art — the Qau/xarov, ch, xxiv.— £X7rX>jgi?, 
 cap. xiv. and xvi. &c. This is not the only in- 
 stance in tliis treatise, of reference to something 
 implied, as if it had been expressly said,— Sec 
 NOTE 150, p. 226, 227. and ?20te ^ 
 
 Victorius illustrates IxTrXnKTixwTf^o by an apt 
 quotation from Aristotle himself: Aoxi* h n* EK- 
 nAHHIS 0ATMA2IOTH2 ilva* TnEPBAAAOTSA. 
 
 Top. lib, iv. 
 
 Strabo says — MuOa TEAOI, nVomv xai EKIIAH- 
 
 HIN. p, 35. ed. Cas. 
 
 titl 
 
 , t- 
 
 -^OTt. 235. 
 
 P. 190. Whether a fault be, &c. 
 
 IToTspwv iTi to a/Aa^THjtAic * twi> xara t*iv T£^vri>, tr 
 
 %Qt,T aAA© cru/xpfPyix©*. — I cannot perceive, that tliis 
 wants any emendation ; much less, that it is, as 
 Mr. Winstanley says, " nullo sensu!' He contends 
 for the certainty of ATonflTEPON—a reading, 
 which Robortelli says he found in all the manu- 
 scripts he consulted. I would only ask, whether 
 
 Aristotle 
 
 NOTES. 373 
 
 Aristotle can be conceived to have written such 
 a sentence as this ? — " A fault in the Poetry 
 " itself is a more absurd thing than a fault in 
 " some other incidental matter ; for it is a less 
 '' fault," &c. Yet this, I think, is the plain 
 English of the Greek — En, drovccTi^ov «>* to 
 
 a/xa^T»/xa twi/ koctx rr\v ri^yrip, »! koct a,\ho <rv[jt.pe' 
 
 P>IX(^' IXXTTOV TAP K,T.\, 
 
 Victorius contends strongly, and, I think, with 
 much better reason, for TroTi^uv, He says well — 
 '' Nam gua adjungimtur videntur significare ita 
 " prorsus legi debere : duo enim genera pecca- 
 
 torum contraria inter se indicant. Utrorum 
 " igitur peccatorujn id, cujus arguitur pocta, 
 *' videndum esse praecipit: alterum enim eorum 
 " genus faciliorem excusationem habet." j). 274. 
 
 NOTE 23(). 
 
 P. 191. Has not represented things 
 
 CONFORMABLY TO TRUTH . 
 
 
 Oux a,xy\U. — An iTrniiAntnq very frequent in the 
 mouth of Plato, to whom, undoubtedly, Aris- 
 totle here alludes. '' The Poets ought not,'' says 
 Plato, speaking of the representations of Hesiod 
 and Hovier, '' to be permitted to tell us—cJ? Ofo* 
 
 fifotf •H-oXifj.sa-i re, xoci i7rtpsXtvH(ri xai fAocvovroct ' 
 
 OTAE ya^ AAH0H\"— They ought not, Xo^io^uv 
 iirXvq HTU) rx ly a7«, aAAa, f/.x>sXov, ivxiyetv' w? 
 
 OTT* 
 
 * De Rep, 11. p. 142. cd, Mass. 
 B B 3 
 
374 NOTES. 
 
 OTT' AAH0H Tityoyroci, ht w^iAijiAa roi? piXXaKT* 
 fxocx^fAoiq I(rf(r0a»\ — So again, of Homers account 
 of the cruel treatment of the body of Hector by 
 Achilles, and of his sacrificing twelve Trojan 
 captives to the manes of Patroclus [//. 4/.] : 
 
 JujtxTravTa ravrx OT ^nfrofAtv AAH0H u^ntr^cci, — 
 And again, presently after — •u6* otriot raura, OTT' 
 AAH0H\ To all which objections, as appears 
 from what follows, Aristotle's answer would have 
 been — oti ira ^ASlN. 
 
 'note 237. 
 P. 191. Sophocles— DREW men, such as 
 
 THEY SHOULD BE," EuRIPlDES, SUCH AS THEY 
 ARE. 
 
 The difference here intended, between the two 
 great Tragic Poets, seems to me to be rightly ex- 
 plained by Dacier in few words: " Sophocle 
 " t&choit de rendre ses imitations parfaites, en 
 *' suivant toujours bien plus ce qu* une belle na- 
 ** ture etoit capable de faire, que ce queWeJaisoit. 
 " 'Au lieu qu' Euripide ne travailloit qu' a les 
 " rendre semblables, en consultant davantage co 
 " que cette m^me nature Jaisoit, que ce quelle 
 *' etoit capable de faire." p. 458. — It is thus in- 
 deed, that, by comparing difl'erent passages, we 
 
 shall 
 
 ^ De Rep. HI. p. 160. — He alludes particularly to the 
 famous declaration of Achilles, Od. A.487, which he im- 
 mediately quotes ; with other passages of the same k.\ai% 
 
 ♦ yW./>. 174. - 
 
 NOTES. 375 
 
 shall find Aristotle clearly explain himself. What 
 he here means by aAi?9»j, is sufficiently clear fi'om 
 the synonymous expressions, 0*0* cIo-* — c*« iv, i 
 trip, in this chapter, and oixom; — xa0' ^fxag — and, 
 #1 vu», in chapter ii. where he explains the different 
 objects of poetic imitation *. To these exprH- 
 sions are opposed another set of expressions, 
 which I take to be synonymous with each other — 
 #»« tUxi in — Qiii<; $et, here; to PiXTiojr, and the 
 *a^%$etyixx uVf^t^^ov, presently after; xaXXia;, 
 
 cap, XV . — pAriokAf 1! xaO n^xq — ^iKThovxq 'Tiay yvv, 
 
 cap, ii^ All these expressions correspond to tlie 
 various expressions of, improved nalurc — la belle 
 nature — ideal beauty^ &c. in modern w riters. 
 
 The objection then, to wliich Aristotle here 
 points out the best answer, I understand to be 
 this^ — " Your imitation is not true\ it is not an 
 " exact copy of such nature as we see about us." — 
 The answer is — " No : but it is an improved copy^ 
 " If I have not represented things as they are^ I 
 ^ have represented them as they ought to be." 
 
 A very different explanation of this passage 
 has been given by an eminent critic ; but, I con- 
 fess, it appears to me to be irreconcilable with 
 Aristotle's expressions, clearly interpreted, as I 
 think they are, by comparison with each other. 
 According to that explanation, the answer of 
 Sophocles to the objection — ax aXjiOu, and indeed 
 ^ tlie 
 
 • TransL Part I. S$ct, 3. ^ TransL vol, i. p. 146^ 14J, 
 i Part I. Sect. 3. 
 
 B fi 4 
 
 •M 
 
w^ 
 
 376 NOTES. 
 
 the sense of the objection itself, are very different 
 from wliat Dacier, and, I believe, all the com- 
 mentators, have represented them to be. — The 
 explanation is this ; 
 
 " And this will further explain an essential 
 *.ifcifference, as we are told, between the two great 
 " rivals of the Greek stage. Sophocles, in re- 
 " tm'n to such as objected a want of truth in his 
 " characters, used to plead, that he drew men 
 ^' such as they ought to he, Euripides suck as they 
 
 were, 1o(poK\Y}g l^u, auT(^ fxiv oiag Sn vomv^ 
 
 Eu^tTTijJijj J*£, oiot il(n/ The meaning of which 
 *' is, Sophocles, from his more extended commerce 
 with mankind, had enlarged and widened the 
 narrow, partial conception, arising from the 
 contemplation of particular characters, into a 
 complete comprehension of the kind. Whereas 
 the philosophic Euripides, having been mostly 
 conversant in the academy, when he came to 
 *^ look into life, keeping his eye too intent on 
 " single, really existing personages, sunk the kind 
 *^ in the indiridual ; and so painted his charac- 
 " ters naturally indeed, and truly, with regard 
 " to the objects in view, but sometimes without 
 *' that general and universally striking likeness, 
 *' which is demanded to the full exhibition of 
 " poetical truth '^." — Again — after an illustration 
 of this meaning, by a comparative examination 
 of the Electra of Sophocles with that of Euri- 
 pides, 
 
 i( 
 
 (( 
 
 iC 
 
 it 
 
 c< 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 li 
 
 •m 
 
 Comment, on the Et, to the Fisos, p. 255. 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 sc 
 
 if 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 NOTES. 3„ 
 
 pides, the conclusion is—" Whether this repre- 
 *' sentation of Sophocles be not more agreeable 
 '' to truth, as collected from wide observation, 
 L e. from human nature at large, than that of 
 Euripides, the capable reader will judge. If 
 it be, the reason I suppose to have been, that 
 Sophocles painted his characters, such as, from 
 attending to numerous instances of the same 
 kmd, he would conclude they ought to be ; Euri- 
 " pides, such, as a narratcer sphere of observation 
 ^' had persuaded him tJicy were'^y 
 
 From these two passages compared, it appears, 
 I think, that by l^a, $n tlmi — such as they duo-ht 
 to be — the learned commentator understands, 
 such as they ought to be in order to possess " thai 
 '' general and universally striking likeness, which 
 " is demanded to the full exhibition of poetical 
 " truth:' But a comparison of Aristotle with 
 himself, in the several passages above referred to, 
 seems to fix the sense clearly to that ideal perfec- 
 tion, that poetic elevation and improvement of 
 nature, which may be said, rather, to exclude 
 such *' general and universally. ^^nVr/;?^ likeness"* 
 of ''human nature at larger and this, I think, 
 was the veiy objection made to Sophocles by the 
 patrons of his rival. 
 
 According to the interpretation which I am 
 taking the liberty to examine, Sophocles is made 
 to answer the charge by denying its truth: for the 
 
 answer. 
 
 ' " > ■ < ' 
 
 f JM, p, 239, 
 
 m 
 
 i m 
 
€t 
 
 tc 
 
 t( 
 
 u 
 
 3^8 NOTES. 
 
 answer, as here stated, will be this — You say^ 
 my representations are 7Wt truCy and those of 
 Euripides are true. I deny this. You use the 
 term improperly. My representations are " agree- 
 able to truth,'" because they are " collected 
 from wide obsermtion, i. e. from human nature 
 at large ;" those of Euripides are not agreeable 
 to truth, because they are representations, not of 
 the kind, but of individuals.— The answer, as I 
 understand Aristotle, is very different. The 
 charge is not denied ^ or explained away, but 
 admitted and justijied. Sophocles says, " If you 
 would have men represented as they are—o^oi 
 tl^^—you must, indeed, go to Euripides. I 
 " liave not drawn them so— I never intended to 
 ** draw them so. I have done better — I have 
 •* delineated mankind, not such as they really 
 <* are, but such as they ought to be." Euripides 
 does not appear to have been charged, by those 
 objectors, with what may be termed individual 
 improbability of imitation, but with too close and 
 portrait-like delineation of general nature. In 
 short, the difference, which I understand to be 
 here intended, between the two Poets, cannot be 
 more exactly expressed, than it is by the ingenious 
 
 com mentator 
 
 f The reader will observe, diat in all the objections, 
 drawn from this source, the truth of the objections— the 
 facts--'' this is not true''—'* this is neither truf, nor as 
 *' it ought to be,*' &c. arc all admitted. Ouk cO^Gr 
 AAA* oia Jn.— Et 3£ MHAETEPnS, on Jjtoj ^cwriv.— Icrw^ 
 h or ^ihriov iisv, AAA' wivi ilXt^ 
 
 C( 
 
 it 
 
 u 
 
 tl 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 u 
 
 it 
 
 NOTES. 3y^ 
 
 commentator himself, in the beginning of the 
 
 note to which I refer ; where it is observed, [p. 253] 
 
 that " truth may be followed too closely in works 
 
 of imitation, as is evident in two respects. For, 
 
 1. the artist, when he would give a copy of 
 nature, may confine himself too scrupulously 
 
 '' to the exhibition of particulars, and so fail of 
 representing the general idea of the kind. Or, 
 
 2. in applying himself to give the general idea, 
 he may collect it from an enlarged view of real 
 
 " life, whereas it were still better taken from the 
 nobler conception of it as subsisting only in the 
 mindr Now, if we apply the latter of these 
 differences to the two Poets in question — if we 
 say, *' In applying himself to give the general 
 '' idea, Euripides collected it from an enlarged 
 " view of real Ife; whereas Sophocles took it 
 " from the nobler conception of it, as subsisting 
 " only in the 7nind''— this will express exactly 
 what I take to be the sense of Aristotle* 
 
 To the support, which the common interpreta- 
 tion of this passage receives from Aristotle him- 
 self, may be added that which it receives, and, I 
 believe, is generally acknowledged to receive, from 
 the Tragedies themselves, which are extant of 
 the two Poets in question. That Euripides is, 
 in general, liable to the censure of particular 
 imitation— of " sinking the kind in the individual;"^ 
 I cannot say I have observed. But who can 
 read this Poet without observing the examples, 
 
 with 
 
 m 
 
3?b NOTES. 
 
 with which he every where abounds, of that very 
 ** general and unwersallif striking likeness^ which 
 **• is demanded to the full exhibition of poetical 
 *' trmth?'' In Sophocles y we find more elevation, 
 more dignity, more of tliat improved Hkeness, and 
 ideal perfection, which the philosopher expresses 
 by liis Ota hi — tF^oq TO pATiov, &c. In Euripides^ 
 -we find more of the aXudf?, the oii.ino\f, &c. — we 
 are oftener reminded of the common nature and 
 common life, which we all see around us. And 
 if this, in conjunction with other causes'*, be 
 sometimes found to lower the imitations of this 
 Poet, beneath the proper level of Tragic dignity, 
 and to produce something of the x«/xwJi« tic 
 »6oAo7«/x£k»i, which Longinus* attributes to the 
 Odyssey^ the fault is amply redeemed, perhaps m 
 those very parts, by the pleasure which results 
 from the closeness and obviousness of the imita- 
 tion ; certainly, in many others, by those precious 
 touches of nature, which must, at once, strike 
 every individual of every audience; such, if I 
 mistake not, as are much more rarely to be found 
 Ml Sophocles, and such, perhaps, as, after all that 
 we have heard about the beau ideal and improved 
 nature, can only be produced by an exact tran- 
 script of nature, as it is ; of what the Poet has 
 actually Jt"// himself, and actually seen in others. 
 
 The truth seems to be, that both in Poetry^ 
 
 and in Painting, if tlie sublime be aimed at, the 
 
 Poet ^ 
 
 *• Su^h as were mentioned in note 33. vol.i. ^ Sect, 9. 
 
 61 
 
 €C 
 
 4C 
 
 a 
 
 NOTE S. 33i 
 
 Poet, and the Artist, must look up to the oix AEI 
 mon: their eyes may " glance from earth to 
 heaven," and they may " body forth the form of 
 things unknozm,'' But, if emotion and the pathe^ 
 tic be their object, they will, neither of them, 
 attain their end, unless they submit to descend a 
 little towards earth, and to copy with some close- 
 ness that nature which is before their eyes. We 
 are told of Michael Angelo, that " his people are 
 a superior order of beings;" that " there is 
 nothing about them, nothing in the air of their 
 actions, or their attitudes, or the style and cast 
 " of their very limbs or features, that puts mic 
 " in mind of their belonging to our mvn species\^ 
 If this be the character of that painter's w^orks, I 
 must confess, for my own part, that I should be 
 disposed to turn from them to those of the charm- 
 ing artist, whose words I quote, where we see 
 human nature imp?vved, but not forgotten, I am 
 very well content to be reminded of my own spe- 
 cies, as he reminds me of them. But this, at 
 least, is certain, that such a character, applied to 
 a Tragic Poet, would be the severest ceiisure that 
 criticism could pronounce*. 
 
 ^ Sir Jos. Reynolds's Discourse s, &c. p. 170. 
 
 * The writer just quoted, among other excellent 
 observations on this subject, in hh notes on Du Frcsnov, 
 allows, that, even in painting, " a dash of individuality is 
 *^ sometimes necessary to give an interest,^* 
 
 X 
 
38* 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1.4 
 
 I 
 
 s'i' 
 
 NOTE 238. 
 
 P. 191. But, as Xenophanes says, &c. 
 
 Thus all tlie MSS. and editions. Victorius pro- 
 posed — aAA' K SA^H rxSi : and supported his 
 conjecture by tlie following fragment of XenO" 
 phanes, preserved in Sext. Empiricus, to which he 
 supposes Aristotle to allude : 
 
 Ka* TO f^Bv iv ZA<I>EL irig uvtj^ iJlsv, iSe rig l^oct 
 "Etdcasy oifA(pi 66UV t6, Koti o<r(roc Xeyco 'TTBdi ttuvtcov. 
 E» yx^ x.a.1 rex, fzccXi^x TTXOI TereXifTf^ivov bIttcov, 
 AuT®* iiJLccg iyc olSe, Sok®^ S' Itti Troctri TervKTon*. 
 
 Few conjectural emendations invite assent by a 
 more remarkable union of ingenuity and proba- 
 bility: and, as it appears to me, that, without 
 some emendation, nothing consistent or satisfactory 
 can be made of the passage, we need, I think, 
 have little scruple in admitting the reading of 
 Victorius as true, till manuscript authority pro- 
 duces something better. 
 
 Xenophanes is here introduced, probably, be- 
 cause he had written against the theology of 
 Homer and Hesiod ^ The following: lines are 
 
 quoted from him by Sextus Empiricus : 
 
 navTflt 
 
 * The sense is— " Concerning the nature of the Gods, 
 ** and of the universe, nothing ever has been, or ever 
 
 can be, r^^rr/^ koown by man. For should we even 
 
 chance to guess the truth, we cannot kjiow it to be the 
 *' truth. All is mere opinion,* [ 
 
 ^ Diog. Laert. IX. 18. 
 
 « 
 
 NOTES. 38J 
 
 navTo, 6e»,? uH9r,x»v 'O^ttijf©. ff 'Ha-ioS®. tb, 
 Or<r« vx^' uv^^uvoKTw ovetSeoi nxt r^oy"^ set, 
 KAEHTEIN, MOIXETEIN tb, x«, AAAH- 
 
 AOrS AnATETEIN'. 
 By alluding to those other verses, where he de- 
 scants on the uncertainty and obscurity of all 
 inquiries relative to the nature of the Gods, and 
 asserts, that all, on that subject, is mere conjecture 
 and opinion, Aristotle seems, slily enough, to have 
 intended to make Xenophanes answer himself; 
 and to excuse Homer's theology, even by the 
 testimony of one who had been most forward to 
 condemn it " These 7mj/ be opinions taken up 
 " at random, as Xemphaties says ; and his repre- 
 ' sentation of the Gods may be the true :— but, 
 ^ as he himself owns, these are matters ?2ot ckariy 
 ' hiown.~-Ax\' i ^ap„ T«^,.— Homer was there- 
 ' fore right, as a Poet, in following popular 
 ' tradition and belief." 
 
 Aristotle also alludes here, without doubt, to 
 the objections of Plato, De Repub. 11. p. 150, &c. 
 td. Massey. 
 
 I cannot forbear to mention one curious maxim 
 •f Xenophanes about drinking, which we find in 
 some pleasant elegiac lines preserved in Athe,iaus. 
 Il was his opinion, it seems, that no man had 
 drunk too much, provided he was able to walk 
 home without a guide. 
 
 0"%' 
 
 See the Poesh PMosopiicaof H. Stephens, p. 36. where 
 other frag,„e„ts of this philosopher are coined 
 See iirMARK 32. p. 467 of this volume. 
 ^^^- "• B B 8 
 
if^ 
 
 584 NOT E S. 
 
 OJ%' vficig 'Xtvziv S' DTTO^rov ^ivj t'XJ^v ccptK0t9 
 
 OUoiS^ ANET nponoAOY. 
 
 - j^then. /». 462. 
 
 And what says the sctcrc ond moral Pi a to oh 
 this subject? — He forbids ■ w^^i t:ii.> .ulul- 
 
 grnrr. hut uUosvs it to r>W;- -s^r. h, xc^i .To^ooivta; 
 Tc-xtA^xii^^ TON NEGX .. Till the age 
 
 of 1 8, he allows no wine ; ior, to drink it ut that 
 time 01 li.c, he says, is " adda.j, Jirc to fin\ both 
 
 " in hod I and mmd!^ — -nryj^ £7ri ttmo hyiTVoew^ nf ri 
 ro a-tafAix, xat mv vf/up^nv. From 1 8 to 30, a Twdc- 
 rate use of wine might be allowed: — oIvh ytvKr^oti 
 rs METPIOT. At 40, and after, it might be used 
 
 in di jolly kind of way — lU ^rai^tav* wr« dunl^Af 
 
 iixa.;, xat Svtr^vfxix; AH0HN yiyno-Oai, fx(iKaxuTi^o¥ 
 fx (rxX»)^oTf^« TO m? 4't^x*'f ''^^J xaOaTTf^ £»? ^uj 
 wihfiov EWTfOckxa, ytykOjiAikov • xat arwf luTrAaroTi^ot 
 
 f^ai. For wine, says he, was given to man, as — 
 — De Leg. II. p. 666. ed. Serr, 
 
 KOTE 239. 
 P. 192. Whether what is said, oa 
 
 DONE, &c. 
 
 I believe Vktoriiis is right in referring this to 
 the accusation, or iViT»/x»)(r*f, which Aristotle, at 
 the end of the (Chapter, expresses by «Jf ^xaPi^a. 
 ** Arbitror autem rationem banc jx^tinere ad for- 
 *' mam earn, quam vocavit, «? pAoPi^a. Docel 
 " enim nunc, si poeta arguitur, quod personam 
 
 *' aliquam 
 
 
 NOTES. ^s^ 
 
 ** aliquam induxerit, quae quippiam dixerit aut 
 " fecerit, quod merit6 reprehendi possit, aut spe- 
 " ciem habeat ywcendi, quomodo illud defend! 
 '' purgarique debeat." p. 278. It is true, the 
 word ^Xot^i^oy does not here occur : but Aristotle 
 uses other words, as synonymous, at the conclusion 
 o^ the chapter ; as, /^•x^n^ia, -rr^yy^^ix : and here, 
 the same thing is sufficiently indicated by the 
 moral expressions, fxn xaA«f, and (pavXov. And 
 though this solution cannot, that I see, be consi- 
 dered as arising from the application of any of 
 the three principles laid down at the beginning of 
 the ch9pter, yet it seems plainly connectedy as I 
 have observed in the notes on the translation, with 
 what precedes. 
 
 * 
 
 NOTE 240. 
 
 P. 193. For the solution of some ob- 
 jections, W^E MUST have recourse TO THE 
 
 diction. . 
 
 Ta iiy TT^og my Xi^iy o^uyrx $6i iixXvuv, So, Un- 
 doubtedly, the passage should be punctuated; not, 
 as in some editions, very absurdly, t« $i tt^o? rnv 
 Afjtif, o^wkTa (Tfi (TtaXuftv : of which the fair, and 
 only fair, translation would be—'' Those objec- 
 " tions, which relate to the diction, we must solve 
 " by looking at them^V Goulston, who adopts 
 this perverse construction, is forced to supply : — 
 
 " his 
 
 n 
 
 * " Quae vero ad dictionem pertinent, oportet intuentem 
 solvere" Ed, Cantab, I 'j^^, * x 
 
 VOL. II. C C 
 
 I, 
 
 >, 
 
 K 
 
 
386 NOTES 
 
 " his rmdis intuentem:" and Heinsius has inserted 
 irwf in his text ; on what authority, I know not,. 
 But the true construction certainly is, o^u^vjx fr^og 
 rnv Xs^iv — i. e. by having an eye to, or, considering, 
 *' the diction." And so the passage was, long 
 ago, well explained by Victorius ; who was fol- 
 lowed by Castelvetro, Piccolomini, and Beni. — 
 Dacier, though he translates rightly, mistakes the 
 sense with those, whose translation is wrong. He 
 supposes Aristotle here to be suggesting answers 
 to objections against the diction. But the instances 
 might have set him right ; none of them appearing 
 to be criticisms on the diction, but, all of them, 
 objections to the sense, though the ansu^ers are 
 drawn from the diction. Indeed Dacier seems to 
 have seen this, and is therefore forced to make the 
 dictio7i, Atgif, include the thoughts, ^tavoiav ; thus 
 confounding Aristotle's clear distinction ^ 
 
 In this whole chapter, zvords are considered no 
 farther, than as they afford the means of obviating 
 objections against the sense. 
 
 NOTE 241. 
 P. 195. When on the Trojan plaiK 
 
 HIS ANXIOUS EYE, &C. 
 
 The censure, here, is generally supposed to have 
 fallen on the word a6fn(r«f, and the absurdity of 
 making Agamemnon see the Trojan camp, and 
 
 the 
 
 •> " La diction a deux parties ; car elle coftipr^nd ordi- 
 " nairement ks pcmets & rcxpression." /. 468. note 27. 
 
 NOTES. 387 
 
 the Grecian fleet, by ni^rlit, and when he was 
 shut up in his tent. To this, Aristotle is under- 
 stood to reply, that the word is metaphorical', he 
 saw witii his mind's eye. — For my part, I would 
 much rather confess, that I do not understand the 
 instance at all, than suppose the philosopher ca- 
 pable of thus explaining away one of the finest 
 descriptive touches in the whole Iliad. The 
 entire passage is this: 
 
 Htoi ot eg Tredtov to T^ooI'kov dBoTjasiS, 
 Gay^a^fi/ TTV^oc ttoXXoc, toc kuibto iXiodi ttoo, 
 AvXuv av^iyyuiv r evoTrriv, ifiuSov t avGouTTuv. 
 
 IL K.v, II, 
 I can hardly think it possible for any man, of 
 the least taste, to read these lines, and understand 
 them to express merely the thoughts of Agamem- 
 non. Mr. Pope, who has shewn so much taste 
 in making tlie most of*all Homer's picturesque 
 descriptions *, has, in his translation, done ample 
 justice to this. Yet, in the 72ote \ this cruel me- 
 taphorical sponge is applied, without compunction, 
 upon the supposed authority of Aristotle ; tiiougb, 
 after all, the evident corruption and deficiency of 
 this whole passage leaves it dubious, whether this, 
 or, 
 
 * See Diss. I. vol. i. p. 46, 6cc, 
 
 * //. X. y. 13. where, in the note, this explanation by 
 
 metaphor is given with seeming acquiescence. In Clarke's 
 
 Homer, too, it is adopted, and aB^<Tuz is explained, 
 
 " animo viderct : secum circuraspectaret. Kara (j^Toipo^af 
 
 .** slpmou, Aristot, Poetic, cap. xxv." 
 
 C C 2 
 
 I 
 
388 NOTES. 
 
 or, indeed, any other meaning, assigned, or assign-^ 
 able, be tlie true one. 
 
 All, in this description, seems clearly Uttrd. 
 The verb, <»d^»j(r«», is no where m Homer, I be- 
 lieve, applied to mental vision. Still less is 
 OaufAa^ty applicable to mere thought, or rtcoUection. 
 And what, after all, is Agamemnon made to see? 
 Only what he might easily see, even as he lay on 
 his couch— the Jires of the Trojan camp. Add 
 to this, the sense still more evidently literal of what 
 follows— of his hearing the military music \ and 
 " the bnsy hum ofmcn'' 
 
 There are few descriptions in Homer, that, to 
 me, appear more beautiful than this little military 
 night-scene. Whatever may be supposed witli 
 - respect to Agamemnon, we, who read, are made 
 to see, and hear. But, take away the literal 
 sense, and you take away, with it, the whole 
 beauty of the passage.— And, after all, what is 
 the difficulty? Agamemnon, though retired to 
 his tent, was kept awake by his anxiety. The 
 enemy was not far off; and he apprehended 
 the design of some nocturnal incursion ^ In 
 this situation, is it difficult to imagine, that he 
 .might frequently rise, and look with an anxious 
 
 eye 
 
 * Pope has expressed this, I think, in a very happy 
 
 line : — 
 
 " Hears in the passing wind ibeir music blow." 
 
 * Awr/xsvEEj J' avJff? cyj^^^ uanau^ iJi Tt tittiv, 
 
 NOTES. 38, 
 
 eye foumvh the Trojan camp, and towards the 
 ships?— for this is all which the expressions, ES 
 TTf JioK a'9f ,«.£— ES ►»!!«? .Vol— here imply. Nor is 
 it at all improbable, that he might have these views 
 as he lay upon his bed, through windows, or 
 apertures, made perhaps for that very purpose. 
 The commentators seem to have thought only of 
 a modern officer, snugly shut up in a°close and 
 comfortable tent, and disturbed by no fear, but 
 that of a sore throat, or the rheumatism. ' The 
 tents of the antients were mere huts, or hovels '. 
 The 9Jiarfjiiee of Achilles himself, as it is minutely 
 described by Homer', seems to have been little 
 better than a cow-house. 
 
 As I have given the passage from Homer, the 
 reader may not be displeased to compare that 
 sketch with a far more finished and exquisite 
 night-piece, but of the same kind, by our own 
 great Poet. 
 
 From camp to camp, through the foul womb of 
 The /,um of either army stilly sounds, [night. 
 
 That the fix'd centinels almost receive 
 The secret whispers of each other's watch ': 
 Bre ansncrs>e ; and through their paly fUftie* 
 Each battle sees the other's umber'd face: 
 
 Steed 
 
 i, . J'°^^"" teinporibus, t^ntoria noiidum erant //Wa, 
 
 ^ Achivorura hx^uu stipltlhus li^hque comtabant, vimlnt 
 
 ' /»/«-/«r<», humcque aggc.ta ; adeoque tuguria potius." 
 
 Htyne ad VirgU. jEn. I. Excur^. 16. 
 
 ' //. n. 449. Pope's transl. XXIV. 553, and the note. 
 
 VOL. II. CCS 
 
 If- 
 
390 NOTES. 
 
 Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs, 
 
 Piercing the night's dull ear ; and iVoin the tents, 
 
 The armourers, accomplishing the knights, 
 
 With busy hammers closing rivets up, 
 
 Give dreadful note of preparation ^ Henry V. At iv. 
 
 NOTE 242. 
 
 P. 105. AuXojv (TUPiyywv 0' ofji.cx.hv, — //. K. v, 13* 
 
 So Aristotle. In our editions of Homer, the 
 
 whole line is — 
 
 AvXuv (Tv^iyycov t IvqTrvjv, oficclov t ocvQ^cdttuv, 
 I cannot agree with those commentators who 
 take the objection here to fall upon the word 
 ivoirriv, which means, mice, '' & ne se dit proprc- 
 " ment," says Dacier, '' que des hommesr This 
 would be a mere verbal objection ; for the nwan- 
 ing is plain enough. But Aristotle, as I have 
 already observed, is not here considering criticisms 
 on the diction, but, such criticisms on the <r»«yo»«, 
 or thoughts, as may be obviated by means of the 
 
 diction. 
 
 Farther; he is here shewing, how objections 
 may be removed by having recourse to meta- 
 phor—by saying, "the expression is not to be 
 '" taken in its proper, but, in its metaphorical 
 " sense." But Dacier's explanation makes the 
 objection to be, not the impropriety of the literal 
 sense, (for that was out of the question here), 
 but only the impropriety, or harshness, of the 
 
 metaphor ; 
 
 8 See REMARK 33. p. 467 of this vol. 
 
 J 
 
 NOTES. 391 
 
 metaphor; and the anszver, according to him, is 
 no other, thiitn a denial of the charge, and a justi- 
 fication of the metaphor. And this will be equally 
 the case, whether we take Aristotle's quotation as 
 it stands — f^\J^^yy(^)y 0' ofAK$ov — or suppose him to 
 mean, a-v^^yyuv T IvoTTDp, as we read it in our edt 
 lions : except, that the former would be much the 
 bolder and harsher metaphor of the two. 
 
 So much then for, what the criticism was Twt. 
 What it was, must always, I fear, in the present 
 condition of the text, remain a problem. One 
 conjecture only occurs to me, and that, such as I 
 cannot take upon me to offer with any degree of 
 confidence. Perhaps Aristotle had, originally, 
 quoted, or meant, at least, to refer to, the whole 
 verse, as we read it; and the censure, might be 
 pointed at the expression — *OMAAON r (kp^^uttuu. 
 The proper and derivative sense of ofji.«.$^ seems 
 to be that of a crowd, a multitude, a heap * ; its 
 secondary sense, by a common metonymy of 
 came for effect, the murmur, or tumult, occasioned 
 by a multitude. So Ilesi/chius : *0/xa^®* — 
 
 (l.) A0POI2I2:, (2.) QOPTBOS. (l.) OXAOS, 
 (2.) TAPAX02.— 2TPAT02, «Vo ra, c>8.— Per- 
 haps, then, some hypercritic might take, or chuse 
 to take, the word here in its primary sense, of 
 multitude, and ask, how Agamemnon could, by 
 
 night, 
 
 • In the Orphean jirgonautics, v. 1 12, '^atuxBn 'OMA- 
 A02, occurs, for " a heap of sand." Apotlon, Rhodius 
 uses the word in the same sense — as, 1. 347. IV. 198. 
 
 C C 4 
 
 
 
39^ NOTES. 
 
 night, perceive and *' xvonder at,'' the multitude of 
 men ? 6«u^«^fi/ - o/xix^oy a^O^wTrwv. To this it would 
 be a prop;:^r answer, to say— you mistake the 
 n-eaniny: of the word of^x^oy : it is not used here 
 in its proper sense, of a multitude, but, in its me- 
 liphorical sense, for the effect produced by the 
 "Doices and the bustle of a multitude. The cri- 
 ticism, I confess, would be frivolous enough ; yet 
 not more so than many others, to which Aristotle 
 has condescended to furnish answers. It will 
 perhaps be tliought a more solid objection to my 
 conjecture, that the word, ofxati©*, seems to be 
 constantly used by Homer in the secondary sense. 
 So, //. M. 471. — B. 96. — Od, K. 556 : Kiku/txfvwr 
 i' ira^wv OMAAON KAI AOTnON AKOT2AS. Nor 
 can I say, that I have found any instance in 
 Homer, of this word used in its primary sense. 
 1 he other sense may, therefore, appear too com- 
 mon and established to have admitted of any dif- 
 ficulty. But to this circumstance, a critic, disposed 
 to^^cavil, and furnished with sufficient authorities 
 for the prnnary sense from other authors, may 
 easily be imagined to have paid no regard. 
 
 NOTE 243. 
 P. 195. All, is put for many — . 
 
 TO yrn^ riANTEZ, «vt* t» IIoAXs, xara fAiru^opoiv 
 
 tl^riToct, The word, ?ra»TK, does not occur in any 
 of tiie preceding examples. But, says M. Batteux, 
 it is xirtually contained in the first example — 
 
 AAAOI 
 
 notes; 39^ 
 
 AAAOI fiiv fx ieoi re xat avr^ff, &C. — for dWot 
 
 means HANTES aAAii. " Aristote traduit Ijdee, 
 & non le mot,'' Dacier understands the passage 
 in the same manner. This explanation appears to 
 me forced and iinprobable. Aristotle says plainly, 
 
 TO 7roc¥Ti^ tl^nroci — i.e. "the uxyrd noLvm {* 
 
 and I believe, with Victorius, Piccolomini, and 
 Heinsius, that some corresponding example is lost, 
 as the explanations of the other examples appear 
 to be likewise. 
 
 NOTE 244. 
 
 P. 196. AIAOMEN h e'i liyj^ dpicicti. 
 
 Kai TO TTt^i TO huTTnoy m AyocfASfMyoy^, in 
 •OTK ATTOS Zm tlmy— 
 
 - - - ciSo[/,ev C£ 01 Bvx®^ (XDB(rdoi,i, 
 dx\a TXli ENrnNIXl* ENETEAAETO ^Tk^w*,.-^ 
 De Soph. Elench. p. 284, cd. Duval—This clearly 
 confirms the common explanation, which makes 
 Ilippias substitute ^Mfxtv, the infinitive, (for ^kTo- 
 fAivniy) used imperatively, instead of it^ofxiv^ the 
 first person plural of the present tense. 
 
 A very curious solution this. Jupiter tells no 
 lie. He only orders the' dream to lie for him: 
 " Ce qui est trh different,'' says Dacier; " car 
 '* alors le mensonge ne vient pas de Jupiter, il 
 " vient du songe."— Dacier tells us also, that 
 this hemistich, which does not appear in our copies 
 
 of 
 
394 NOTES. 
 
 of Homer *, was altered, *' par nue fraude pieuseJ^ 
 I cannot see any great pie/y in the fraud ; because 
 nothing appears to be added to the impiety of the 
 passage by the words objected to, or to be taken 
 from it, by the suppression of them. If the words 
 were in Aristotle^ Homer, they were probably in 
 Plato h also. Yet, in the passage at the end of 
 the second book of his Republic, where he alludes 
 to this part of Homer, he, very properly, takes 
 no notice of these words, but censures the whole 
 circumstance, of Jupiter's being represented as 
 sending such a deceitful dream : — rnv t» lyMirvm 
 nOMnHN bVo Aii^* T» AyxfAtiA.yoyi \ — The theology, 
 indeed, of this charming writer, was of a very 
 different complexion from that of Hippias, or of 
 
 Dacier. — Kofxih «f « o 0EO2 aVXav xa* aAiiOf?, iv 
 ri ioyu, xa» Iv Xoyu' x«» in avr@* jUEGirarat, kti 
 m>Ji»i ij^ccrrarot, urt xocroc f avTa(r*af, kti xatx Xoyaf, 
 
 NOTE 245. 
 P. 196. To /xiv OT xaraTTuOfTa* ©Vl^fw. 
 
 This correction, also, of Hippias, is somewhat 
 more explicitly mentioned, De&j^A. Elench.p. 284. 
 The passage was censured as absurd, («? aro^w^ 
 fi^nxora) by those critics who read 5. But what 
 
 the 
 
 * Instead of it, we read — TfAjfccri h m$s ipwrcu. 
 //.B. 15.— See Clarke's note. 
 
 ^ P. 154, ed. Mass, * Jbid, 
 
 NOTES. 395 
 
 the absurdity was, we are not told by Aristotle. 
 His commentators tell us, that it consisted in first 
 calling the post "rfn/," aJop*, and then saying — 
 *' where it was 7^otted by rain'' I cannot say 
 I comprehend this. Are rottemiess and dryness^ 
 as Beni very well asks, incompatible? — Nor is it 
 clear, what construction, or what sense, was given 
 to the passage, by those w ho read «, instead of ». 
 — But the reader will hardly thank me for detain- 
 ing him with a dissertation upon a rotten post. 
 
 NOTE 246, 
 
 P. 196. And mix'd before unmix'd. 
 
 Zw^a Tf TCL T^iv AKPHTA, [J'taXAarTOPTa xi\i\j^u; : 
 
 for so the verse is completed, in Simplicius and 
 Athenceus.] This seems the best and most au- 
 thentic reading, and Dacier s the most reasonable 
 explanation. The meaning of the words, ^oo^oy, 
 ^(a^oTEfoif, was matter of great dispute among the 
 antients themselves. See Plutarch's Sympos, 
 Prob. V. 4. — M. Batteux, taking it to mean pure^ 
 unmixed, reads, consistently with that idea, for 
 axfrjra, KEKPATO. But, that this word, whatever 
 it was, meant umnixed, seems piain from the pas- 
 sage of Athe7ictus, p. 423, 424, about Theo- 
 pkrastus ; who, it seems, in a treatise on drunke?i- 
 
 I ness, 
 
 •* — -. .. — 
 
 • The lines are — 
 
 Erw£ |y^ov abov, haov r 6^yui\ Itti^ o^rjj, 
 
 lU >).. 327. 
 
396 NOTES. 
 
 nesSy adduced these very lines of Empedocks to 
 prove, that the meaning of l^f^^on^oy was, woipurc 
 wine, but wim mixed xvith xvater. 
 
 The expression, i^oLWctrroyroL x^x^uOaf, seems to 
 prove, as Dacier has explained it, that the second 
 verse was not intended merely as explanatory re- 
 petition, in other termSy of the change described in 
 the first, but as descriptive of a contrary change ; 
 an interpretation which is somewhat supported by 
 the two following lines of the same Poet, on the 
 same subject : — 
 
 AAAOTE jLfcfiy, (piXoTfjTi (rvvepxoiJt.ev el^ ev aTTotvToc, 
 AAAOTE S* AT, Si^ bkoc^x (pooevfjLBvoc veix.6®^ 
 
 — and, perhaps, still better, by the lines quoted by 
 Aristotle, Phys. Aiiscult. VIII. p. 408. The ex- 
 pression — MA0ON MoLvar l\y»^ — is well explained 
 by Casaubon, upon Athenaeus, />. 718, — ** /x«6ov, 
 " pro fiwdf»(r«y, aut iwi^uxfnr«» : — didicerant essCy 
 ** pro erant, vel solcbanty esse,'' &c. See also the 
 verses just referred to, in the Phys, Auscult. 
 where the same expression occurs — MEMA0HKE 
 
 Of hdi^ivii and (TuvJiert?, and the ambiguity of 
 punctuatiofif as a source of sophistical argumen- 
 tation, more may be seen, if it be thought worth 
 seeing, Rhet. II. 24. p. 580. De Soph, Elcnch. 
 p. 284, 288, 303, ed, Duval, 
 
 » Poes, Philos, H, Stefh, p. 21. 
 
 ^•1 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 397 
 
 NOTE 247. 
 P. 197. To AMBIGUITY — . 
 
 AiApPoXiet, L e, suck ambiguity, as does not de- 
 pend on the different senses of single words, 
 (which Aristotle calls o>6ovu|un«,) but on the dif- 
 ferent senses, of which tzto or more words are 
 capable, independent ly of their punctuatvni. See, 
 Be Soph. Blench. I. cap. iv. which clears up his 
 distinctions, between huipta-ig, ocfAppoXia^ oi^uyw 
 
 fAlXj &c. 
 
 NOTE 248. 
 
 P. 197. Whatever is pqurjRJ) out to 
 
 DRINK AS WINE. 
 
 Upon V. 363 of O^. XI. (— xi^wvra? ocl^OTra, olvoy^) 
 
 Eustathius says — xHTtriy, £>|3«AXokTa? tU x^ocrneu; : 
 and Gataker remarks, on occasion of the same 
 passage — " ro xf^av, sive xi^oc<r»i, licet miscere 
 " proprie significet, usurpatur tamen simpliciter 
 «ifT* ruy «yX"**'> **** h^ovon wmiv' pro ififundere 
 " in calicem scil. sive cyathum, et bibendum por^ 
 " Tigert*r As a proof that the verb was so 
 used, without the idea of mixing, we meet with it 
 applied to nectar : 
 
 — KEPASSE It viXToc^ B^vQ^ov. Od. E. 93. 
 The Gods hardly drank nectar and water. — But it 
 is even applied to pure water itself: 
 
 0u/Aijf«f KEPASAZA koctoc xpar®- t6 xai dtiuv, 
 I. e. pouring it over my head and shoulders. 
 
 ' O^. K 362. 
 
 * bee Clarke's Homer. 
 
398 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 249. 
 
 P. 197. Hence Ganymede, &c. 
 I have adhered, without scruple, to the trans- 
 position mentioned in Mr. Winstanlcy's note * ; 
 which had been proposed, I know not by whom, 
 before Victorius published his commentary. Vic- 
 torius opposes it ; but, I think, without sufficient 
 reason. Piccolomini saw, and has well defended, 
 the necessity of it, which appears to me to be ob- 
 vious. I would read the whole passage thus : 
 
 To, <^£, xara to i^(^ rri; Aif fwf * om, rov [fo7'ie, 
 TOl xixpflfuuiyop, olvov ^aur^v flk«* * oiiv ti^'nron • 
 
 i viyovruv olvov. Ein ^' a% raro yt x«t xara ^fra- 
 fo^otv, Kai, X«Axf«f, rm rov <rih^O¥ Ipyu^oixtm ' 
 
 This differs fn)ni Mr. Winstanley's arrangement, 
 only with respect to the words— cIu ^' dv t»t« 
 yi, &c. which appear to me to beloog to the sin- 
 gle example immediately preceding them in the 
 editions. The commentators agree, I think, in 
 making them refer to ail the examples. But I can- 
 not be persuaded, that Aristotle, after formally pro- 
 posing the ii&> Afjf wff, as a distinct solution, would 
 immediately say, that all the instances he gives 
 
 might 
 
 ♦ £d.Ox. 1780,^.307. 
 
 NOTES. 399 
 
 might as well be defended K»Ta fAiTsc(po^otv. I un- 
 derstand him to say — " though t/iis example, 
 " indeed, may also be defended by metaphor." 
 The expression confirms this : — sU ^ av TOTTO 
 
 Besides, ther^ seems to be a pretty plain reason, 
 why this instance might be considered as a meta- 
 phor, and the others not so. Nectar was the 
 wine of the Gods ; and the resemblance was suf- 
 ficiently obvious, to make the substitution of the 
 one for the other an easy metaphor. With the 
 other examples the case is different. Brass and 
 iron are indeed, each of them, species of ??ietals. 
 But the common genus is too general to constitute 
 that obvious resemblance which is requisite to a 
 met^plior. Their likeness, to use the philoso- 
 pher's own language, is not perceived by thegenus^. 
 Oil and vinegar are both liquids ; yet the substi- 
 tution of the one for the ottier would make a very 
 strange sort of metaphor ; because they have no 
 ^ther resemblance to each other, but as liquids. 
 Hence, Aristotle denominates such substitutitnis 
 not metaphors, but customary modes of speech ; 
 both because the resemblance is not obvious enough 
 for metaphor, and because, as the name implies, 
 they are common and e^^fl'i&Aed expressions, (xu/»*«,) 
 however, in themselves, improper. 
 
 I I II »i i »ii 
 
 Wtfmm 
 
 MMMk. 
 
 * Sec NOTl 183. 
 
 ■» 
 
4O0 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ^K 
 
 f I 
 
 NOTE 250. 
 
 P. 198. The meaning is, m-as stopped 
 
 ONLY, OR repelled. 
 
 Dacier supposes the critics to have objected to 
 the improbability of a long spear's remaining 
 fixed in a shield, like an arrow, or light dart. 
 I cannot so conceive it. The lines themselves are 
 the best comment here. 
 OvSi TOT Amtao Jaicpjoj/®* oiS^i^y tyx^ 
 
 AXXcc Svu [jLiv iXcca-cTi Sia TfTVx^f «* ^' «f' «t; t^u^ 
 
 HO'CtV ' IftU 7FSVTS ITTVX'^^ f^XOLO't KvXXOTTOOiUV , 
 
 Totq Svo, x^^^^^^9 ^^^ ^' ivicdiy xxa-CiTi^oiOy 
 
 Tijv h fjtiav, XP^^'^^ ' ''7 P ««"xiTO %aXx«oy lyx!^* 
 
 II, T. 267, &c. 
 
 The shield was composed of five plates ; the 
 
 two first, of brass ; the two irwermost, next the 
 
 body, (for that seems to be the sense of hioU \) 
 
 of tin, x«fl-o-»Tf^o»o ^ ; and one in the middle, of 
 
 gold ; and there the spear was stopped : THt p' 
 
 .lo-p^iTo. Now this might mean, stuck, or, was 
 
 fastened, in it ^ But thb, it was objected, would 
 
 have 
 
 ^ It may, however, mean — within the brass plates. If 
 
 so, we must understand the two externa/ plates, on the 
 
 opposite sides of the shield, to have been brass, and the 
 
 _two iron, within, and contiguous to, them. In either 
 
 case, the plate of gold will be the third and middle plate. 
 
 ** Meaning, I suppose, according to the eB©- >Jtitu>i^ iron* 
 
 • As, by the way, the same word clearly appears to 
 
 mean 
 
 NOTES. 401 
 
 have been a manifest contradiction ; for Homer 
 had said, not only that the gold stopped it— 
 Xeu<r^ yap l^uxax£ — but, Still more expressly, that 
 the spear penetrated txvo of the plates, and that 
 the three others remained unpierced. But the 
 spear could not well be fixed, or fastened, in the 
 plate of gold, which was the third, without pierc- 
 ing it. — And thus the objection appears to have 
 been rightly understood by Victorius and Goulston, 
 
 NOTE 251. 
 
 P. 199. Of how MANY DIFFERENT SEN- 
 SES, &C. 
 
 I may say with Victorius, " hie locus valdh me 
 torsitr The words are these ; — to h, Troo-ap^w? 
 
 tv^xifoci, eJJ't TTu; ' fji.aXif dv ri; uxoXajSot xxtx tuv 
 
 xar dvTix^v. — In this passage, as in many others, 
 there is just glimpse enough of so7ne meaning, to 
 mock a commentator with the hopes of discovery, 
 and to deprive him of the comfort of doing at 
 once, what, after all his efforts, he will probably 
 find himself oblicred to do at last — of abandoninsr 
 the passage as unintelligible. For my own part, I 
 do not see o?ie clear and satisfactory sense, that 
 can be made of the words, without conjectural 
 emendation; and if we open that door, we shall 
 
 be, 
 
 _L_ ■ II I I ' - ■ - ■ ■ I , ^ 
 
 mean in a simibr passage, //. H. 248. But, there, it is 
 used with the preposition h. 
 
 EN Tvj y i^^oixarri fivu 2XETO. 
 VOL. II. D D 
 
f 4 
 
 402 NOTES. 
 
 be, again, confounded by the number of different 
 senses which ingenuity may propose, with equal 
 pretensions to our acceptance. 
 
 Dacier translates thus : " Et le plus court 
 " moyen de se tirer de ces endroits, cest de 
 " prendre le mot dans un sens tout contraire i 
 " celui qu on lui donne ordinairement." Piccolo- 
 mini and Beni understand it thus : " How many 
 " senses a word admits of, may best be know n by 
 ** considering the significations opposed to it :" 
 a sense preferable, I think, at least, to any other 
 that has been offered, because it certainly does 
 receive some support from the fifteenth chapter of 
 Aristotle's first .book of Topics * ; where he treats 
 of Homonymi/, or equivocation^ and points out dif- 
 ferent means, by which we may discover, what, 
 and how many, different senses a word will admit 
 of; and among tliese is the rule here supposed tQ 
 be alluded to ; /. e. that any single word must ad- 
 mit of as many different significations as are 
 opposed to it. As, for example, to the word acutc^ 
 we oppose, sometimes grave, sometimes blunt^ 
 sometimes dull, or stupid. Acute therefore has, of 
 course, three different senses, corresponding to 
 those three opposite senses. 
 
 But though this explanation of the passage must 
 be allowed to give an Aristotelic meaning, yet I 
 cannot think it a meaning that arises, fairly and 
 <;learly, from the text. In particular, the expres- 
 sion. 
 
 mmmammm'mmmmmtgt 
 
 * P, 189. See Seit. 2, 3. 
 
 NOTES. 403 
 
 Sion, KATA rr\v [soil, a-nfAxa-iocy — for SO it is sup- 
 plied—] KAT' ANTIKPT, has, to me, a very 
 suspicious appearance. I much doubt, whether 
 Aristotle would have used tlie word dvriKpv to 
 denote contrariety of meaning, or any thing but 
 /oc^/ opposition. I believe he would have used 
 IvuvTiov, or durixufXByov ; as he does constant ly in 
 those parts of his logical works, where he treats of 
 contrariety, and of the opposite senses of words •* ; 
 and where I have not found the phrase xojt' avTix^u, 
 once made use of in that sense.— However, as this 
 interpretation seems to be the least exceptionable 
 of any, and I see nothing better to propose, I have 
 admitted it in my version : but I should certainly 
 not accuse any reader of being very fastidious, 
 if he preferred a blank to this, or any other mean- 
 ing, that has been given to this dark saying.— 
 Emendatory conjectures, indeed, have occurred to 
 me, as to others ; but none of them plausible 
 enough even to impose upon myself. 
 
 NOTK 252. 
 P. 199. Argue from these previous 
 
 DECISIONS of their OWN. 
 
 AuToi KATAYH^ISAMENOI. — I cannot think 
 this word so free from all difficulty as Mr. Win- 
 stanley does. , He says, " Elgregie dictum xara- 
 
 ^yi(piirxit.ivQij ut sensus sit : Iji perinde Sicjudiccs 
 
 " tjuidafn 
 
 ^ See Toj>ic I. 15, above referred to j and, II. 7, 8, ct 
 passim. 
 
 D D 2 
 
404 NOTES. 
 
 " quidam decernentes ratiocinantur," &c. — But the 
 question is, whether the word will admit that 
 sense, or any other, than tliat of condi'mningy 
 passing sentence against^ &c. which is not to 
 Aristotle's purpose in this place. The fair sense 
 of xaTa\J/iift<rajtA«vo» fl-uXXoyt^okTai, is, if I mistake 
 not, ** they argue, or form their conclusion, aftei\ 
 or, in consequence of^ having condemned^' — what? — 
 We must necessarily understand them to have 
 condemned, either the passage in question, or, the 
 opinion of others about the sense of it. But 
 Aristotle, in what follows, says plainly, that they 
 condemned the passage, or the opinions of others 
 relative to it, in consequence of their oxvn precon- 
 ceived and erroneous notions ; and the idea of 
 €07idcninatimi, or censure^ here, would be only an 
 awkward, tautological anticipation of the 'EIIITI- 
 
 Mn2IN, dy uTTfvavTtov 17 tw auTwv oit)o-£», which fol- 
 lows. I think, therefore, that the proposed 
 correction of Hcinsius, xuTocI.O<pnreifAtvoi, must be 
 allowed the praise, both of ingenuity and proba- 
 bility. In my version, however, I have contented 
 myself with making the best I could of that reading 
 which has the authority of all the manuscripts, 
 and all the commentators, except lleinsius, on its 
 side. — Victorius thinks the word will bear the sense 
 of *' cujn sententiam tulermt ;" but he adds — - 
 ** quamvis in praepositione, quae verbo adjuncta 
 " est, vis insit contra alios idfacicmliJ" 
 
 X 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 40s 
 
 KOTE 253. 
 
 P. 199-200. The objection^ ixsEir, 
 
 THEREFORE, IS PROBABLY FOUNDED ON A 
 MISTAKE. 
 
 A** afA(x^rn[xoc $e to 7r^c>j3Au/A« ux(^ If*. " MetuO 
 
 *' ne hie locus corruptus mancusve sit." Victor, — 
 To give these words any meaning that may not 
 easily be controverted, is, I believe, impossible. 
 I have made them say, what it seems to me most 
 probable that the author meant to say : " So far 
 *' is this criticism from proving Homer to be 
 " wrong, that it is, itself, probably, founded on a 
 *' mistake." 
 
 NOTE 254. 
 
 P. 200. The IMITATIONS OF POETRY SHOULD 
 RESEMBLE THE PAINTINGS OF ZeUXIS . 
 
 xoci TT^og TO fieXTiov' to ycca "TraDocSuyfjLo, Set 
 j\l. Batteux proposes this arrangement : — 
 
 AXXa xa* tt^ 0? to ^gXriov ' ro yoc^ iroc^ochiyiA-oc in 
 That the words, TQiaraq S* ilvxi^ out; Ziv^ig ly^x(pvjy 
 
 belong to the second way of defending the impossi- 
 ble, by referring it to the |3£Xti&j/ — oio. on tlvxi, &c. 
 
 ,. seems 
 
 * So, at least, the passage is printed in the edition I use 
 of M.Batteux's Quatre Poeiiques, (Paris 177 1,) not as 
 they are quoted by Mr. Winstanley, p. 309.. 
 
 D D 3 . 
 
4o6 NOTES, 
 
 seems clear. Nor is it any objection to thii, as 
 some have thought it \ that Aristotle had before 
 mentioned the paintings of Zmxis, as deficient in 
 the expression of the manners ^ For it by no 
 means follows, from this deficiency of Zeuxis as to 
 manners^ that he did not represent tt^q(; to piXriov, 
 with respect to beauty, grace, dignity of form **, &c. : 
 
 
 
 and it seems to be this kind of improvement, in 
 painting, by which Aristotle, here and elsewhere, 
 illustrates the /aj^tjo-k jSfAriov^ of poetry. Com- 
 pare, particularly, cap. xv. Y^itu h fxi[jt.%vii iV» i 
 T^ay. /3At. &C. \ 
 
 The story of the manner, in which Zeuxis is 
 said to have collected the PiXnoy for his famous 
 picture of Helen, is well known. See Cic. de 
 Invent. II. i. Plin. Nat. Hist. XXXV. 9. 
 Bayle, art. Zeuxis. 
 
 I agree, therefore, perfectly with Mr. Winstanley, 
 that the words, romnt^ ^ t'lvxi onsg Z. iy^. should be 
 transposed : but 1 do not see, that any alteration, 
 farther than the mere transposition, is necessary. 
 
 I would read — AAAa xai fr^og t» PfAriov [scii. Ji» 
 avocynii] roiSTug ^' thai [scil. ^it] oisf Ziufif iyptx^iv* 
 ro y»^ froL^ochiyfxa isi C-jripi^tiy. 
 
 ^ See Goulston's version and notes. 
 
 • Cajj. in, TransL vol. i. p. 119. 
 
 ^ Zeuxis plus mcmbris corporis dedit, id amplius at que 
 nugustius ratus, atque (ut existimant,) H9MERUM secutus, 
 cui vaiidissima (juaeque forma, etiam ia fceminis, placet, 
 QuintiL XII. 10. p. 627, ed. Gibi. 
 
 I Transl. vol.i. p. 146« 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 407 
 
 NOTE 255. 
 
 P. 201. To OPINION, OR WHAT IS SAID TO 
 BE, MAY BE REFERRED, &C. 
 
 n^o? a ^ao-i, roe, a.Xoy(t : \sCfL hi ivoLyny {] for SO, 
 I think, with Mr \\ inal ailf y, the pa.>:5dge is to be 
 understood ; and so it is explained and translated 
 by Castelvetro. The expression, a (pxtri, or oix 
 ^oca-i, is used by Aristotle as synonymous with 
 
 Jofa, and oix hy(.u. Thus, — La, ^AII x«» AOKEI, 
 
 at the beginning of this chapter: and afterwards — 
 
 But it will not, I think, be found possible to 
 give this passage a consistent sense, unless we un- 
 derstand him to mean, what, as the text stands, he 
 does not expressly say, i e.— " By general opinion 
 " we may excuse, not only the Tn^otvov divyurovj but 
 " even such things as are manifestly improbable, 
 " or absurd." As if he had written, tt^oi; i <p<xfi, 
 KAI roc cixoyx. And thus Goulston has supplied : — 
 " Ad ea quae aiunt, [redigiintur hc^c qitcB di.vi; etl 
 " ilia, quae sine ratione sunt" 
 
 NOTE 256. 
 P. 201. When things are said, WHjca 
 
 APPEAR TO BE CONTRADICTORY. 
 
 T« J' tViifavTia (Jf el^nixti/x — . The words, ti; 
 (IfVf^tyxy have distressed ail the commentators; 
 ^fld no sense, which they have laboured to force 
 
 P D 4 upou 
 

 If i 
 
 If 'i 
 
 408 NOTE S. 
 
 upon the expression, is, to my apprehension, 
 satisfactory. Heinsius corrected by transposition — 
 Tot <5' <Jf vTrsvocurix il^rtixsvoc : *' Ea, qusB tanquavi 
 ** subcontraria dicta videntur." — An easier and 
 ^lore probable emendation, I think, would be — 
 
 NOTE 257. 
 
 P. 201. And in the same sense — . 
 
 The word is, uxrAxj-rui; : *' simili modoy' as all the 
 commentators render it. I cannot say I have been 
 able thoroughly to satisfy myself, as to the precise 
 meaning of the expression, from any thing I have 
 found in Aristotle's logical works *. If, '* in the 
 " same 7naTmei\'' does not mean, " in the same 
 '* sense,'* I confess I do not know what it means. 
 I understand Aristotle to say, that, if the subject 
 of the propositions, charged with being contra- 
 dictory, be the sanw, and spoken of in the same 
 respectf we must still examine, farther, w hether the 
 two propositions admit of a se?2se really and accu- 
 rately opposite to each other ; which cannot be the 
 case, unless the same words, in each proposition, 
 have exactly the same sense. And this meaning 
 seems to be supported by the following passage 
 from the treatise n£^i E^fxnvna^ : — Ka» Iru raro 
 
 ANTI^ASIS, (nenipe) y^pcraipixa-ii; xa» aVo^acK at 
 «yTixf»ji*fva». Aiyu h «kT»x«i(rOas», Tnv TOT ATTOT 
 
 XKTOt 
 
 * Sec De Soplust, Ekmh. 285, D. 287, E. 
 
 NOTES. 4^ 
 
 xoLr» TOT ATTOT, p»j 'OMnNTMHS h \ That 
 is, as it is well explained in the analytical Sy- 
 nopsis prefixed to Duval's edition :— " Affirmatio 
 " & negatio opposita5, contradictionein faciunt. 
 " Oppositio est ejusdem, de eodem, non homo- 
 nym^ ; 9iam accipi debent termini in oppositione. 
 
 ** EODEM MODO AC SENSU." 
 
 All that follows — viz. wVe xat auVoi/, 11 TT^og i 
 auT(^ Afyfi, ij dv f^cvtjtA©^ uVoOijTa* — is either so 
 corrupt, or so darkly expressed, that I have only 
 to confess myself unable even to guess what 
 Aristotle meant to say. Commentators indeed 
 have explained, and translators have translated; 
 but I have seen no explanation that approaches 
 to satisfaction, nor any translation, but what is 
 either unintelligible, or unwarrantable, or both. 
 I do not mean to except myself; for I had trans- 
 lated thus :— " We must also consider the pei^son 
 ** who speaks, and whether the contradiction be 
 *' to what he himself said, or to what any reason- 
 " able man would understand him to have said V 
 But, to wave other objections, which, no doubt, 
 the learned reader will easily make for me, the 
 
 verb, 
 
 ^ Cap. vi. p. 39. Elsewhere he expresses this — 
 BXiyX^ MH/ ya^ iriv avrKpaaig ra uuth km sv^, MH *OiNO- 
 MATOS, AAAA nPArMAT02. De Soph, Elench. 
 p. 285, D. 
 
 *= Alluding, as I supposed, to the former passage about 
 the verbal vinvania, and Glaucous answer, viz, the con- 
 tradiction is only to the critic's erroneous opinion, and 
 misconception, of the passage : o^oywj 7r.^QV7ro>afJi^av87i» 
 
in 
 
 \i 4 
 
 i ! 
 
 410 NOTES. 
 
 verb, uVoSfo-Sai, will, I believe, by no means beaf 
 this sense, (^f supposing, understanding — u7roAaj3fn». 
 At least, Aristotle seems always to use it in that 
 of advising, suggesting, &c. So Rhet. l.g.p- 533. — 
 
 crav tTTonyeiy |3aA»7, o^x n «» THOOOIO ' xai rrap 
 TIIO0E20AI, »^a n av IntzivKTua^. Accordingly^ 
 Goalston has given the word this sense in his 
 version : — " videndumque, an ea in re, quod pru- 
 ** dens prcEceperity secutus sit." But, of what 
 force this circumstance is, or how it is to be ap- 
 plied to obviate the charge of contj^adictiony I do 
 not see. 
 
 Being therefore obliged to reject the only version, 
 ■which seemed to me to offer any tolerable meaning, 
 I have left a blank in my translation. 
 
 NOTE 258. 
 
 P. 201. When excused by no neces- 
 sity, &c. 
 
 \liv£Xa». — Such was the confused state in which 
 Robortelli found the text, which he, very ingeni- 
 ously and solidly, rectified thus : 
 
 rta uXoyeo, ua-TTSf Ev^miSrig EN tu AIFEI • THi 
 vorn^uty uo'iTi^ \y ria O^i^ ra MeveXocVm 
 
 Some MSS. for Aiynnns, give Aiynnrw, which, 
 as Goulston has observed, suggests the true read-r 
 
 2 By 
 
 NOTES. 4iif 
 
 By the ^Egeus, Robortelli understood the cha- 
 racter 'jf that name, in the Medea of Euripides* 
 To thJb Victorius very reasonably objected, that 
 the mode of expression, iv tw Aiysi, seems plainly 
 to indicate a Tragedy so nan^ed ; not a character 
 only in a Traoredy of a different name. But this 
 is no objection to Kobortelli's reading, thouijh it 
 is to bis explanation of it. See the fragments at 
 tlie end of the Oxford Euripides, where several 
 passages of the ^gcus are quoted from Sto- 
 baeus, &c. 
 
 note 259. 
 P. 202. Thus the sources of objections 
 
 ARE FIVE, &C. 
 
 This enumeration may seem, at the first view, 
 to be deficient ; for one of the objections was — 
 Oux £xnh : — '' the representation is not conform- 
 *' able to trulJu But this, perhaps, may be 
 considered as falling under the charge of dxoy<m. 
 For he, who accuses a Poet of departing from 
 nature, experience, and the oi» iv^ ri jV*, says, in 
 other words, it is improbable, incredible, absurd, 
 &c. Or, when this objection was relative to 
 truth of another sort— to theological truth, as 
 violated by the poetic representations of the Gods, 
 it then came, properly, under the ^Xa^t^oy ; it was 
 of immoral and pernicious tendency. And thus 
 we find Plato objecting continually to the theology 
 of Homer; sometimes, as not true — otk. 
 
 AAH0H; 
 
412 NOTES. 
 
 AAH8H*; sometimes, as hurtful — ran unHinn 
 
 BAABEPA\ 
 
 The objections answered by considerations 
 drawn from the diction, (Sect. 5 J appear to be all 
 reducible to one or other of these Jive sources. 
 
 NOTE 260. 
 P. 202. /Or, of immoral tendency. 
 
 BXaPf^a : i e. huj'tful 071 account of their im- 
 moral tendency. So the word is used by Plato ; 
 to whose objections, and to the very language in 
 which he expresses them, Aristotle so frequently 
 alludes. Censuring the immoral tendency of 
 some of Homer's representations of his hero 
 
 Achilles, Plato says — OmV oa-ix ravrocy XT «A*iOi| • 
 - - - xoci jUTjv To»? yE ocKiiii(ri BAABEPA-— The reason 
 follows : TTfltf yot^ Ixvru (ruyyvw/xtiv eJk, xaxa ovt», 
 Vfio-Ofi?, wV «^« TOiauTa 'rr^(xrrH<ri ri xat Itt^xttov 
 
 " O* Ofwv dyx^a-wo^Qi ." '^i' fV£xa, Travrtov t«c 
 
 To»aT8f /xuOsf, jtxn n^iv voXXnv lup^f^uav jyTtxTwo-* TOif 
 
 woi?, ^oi/n^ia?. De iiep. III. p. 176, ed, Mass. 
 
 Compare the precept, cap, xv *. about making 
 the character as morally good as possible : and see 
 NOTE 108. It is obvious however to observe, 
 that when the /Ao;)(^0Tif »a, the villai7ij/ of a character, 
 
 is 
 
 * See NOTE 235. 
 
 * See the passage from Plato in the next note, where 
 both these expressions occur. 
 
 » Transl. vol. i. p. l43« 
 
 NOTES. 4x3 
 
 is overcharged, it brings with it its own antidote. 
 Such characters as lago \ or Glenalvony can be 
 PxajSf^a to no reader or spectator. They excite 
 only pure and unmitigated disgust. Not all the 
 art of the Poet, or the charms of Poetry, can 
 cheat us into any degree of sympathy with them^ 
 even for the moment in which they are speakintr. 
 We feel, there, no such struggle between immoral 
 approbation and moral indignation, as Dr. John- 
 son has described, in his observations upon the 
 different effects produced on the spectator, by the 
 villainy of Rowe's Lothario, and that of Richard- 
 son's Lovelace. Tiie passage is so much to the 
 purpose of this note, so justly thought, and so 
 well expressed, that I am persuaded I shall gratify 
 the reader by transcribing it. 
 
 " The character of Lothario seems to have 
 " been expanded by Richardson into Lovelace; 
 " but he has excelled his original in the moral 
 " effect of the fiction. Lothario, with gaiety 
 " which cannot be hated, and bravery which 
 " cannot be despised, retains too much of the 
 *' spectator's kindness. It was in the power of 
 ** Richardson alone to teach us at once esteem 
 
 *' and 
 
 * " There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined 
 " with abilities, should steal upon esteem, though it 
 " misses of approbation ; but the character of lago is so 
 " conducted, that he is, from the first scene to the last, 
 ** hated and despised." [Dr. Johnson. Note at the end 
 of Oi/iM.]— Not. so, Shakspeare's Richard, 
 

 «c 
 
 *l 
 
 414 NOTES. 
 
 ** and detestation, to make virtuous resentment 
 overpower all the benevolence which wit, and 
 elegance, and courage, naturally excite, and to 
 
 " lose at last the hero in the villain \" 
 
 ^ NOTE 261. 
 P. 202. Or as contrary to technical 
 
 ACCURACY. 
 
 — Tlotpoc T»jv o^SoTJlra, mv xara rij^vfiv. Most of 
 
 the commentators understand the art of Poetry 
 itself. But, if I am right in the explanation I 
 have given, note 233, of the expression, tt^o? 
 ituTuk Tuv T£;^y»ii>, the sense of the expression here 
 must be the same. I understand Aristotle to 
 mean, the rightncss^ not of Poetry itself, but of 
 ether arts, which may be incidentally the subject 
 of the Poetry ; and the words, I think, express 
 tlie source, or lU^^ as he terms it, of objections 
 relative to all faults xara <ru/A(3fptjx^, as opposed 
 to those, which he distinguishes by the various 
 
 expressions of, oc(Ji.a^rioci xaO' IxvTtlv, &c*. 
 
 The other interpretation of the words is fairly 
 liable, I think, to the following objections. 1 . If 
 we understand the poetic art itself to be meant, 
 then the objection to faults xocra, (ru[A^i^m&' — 
 to impossibilities and inaccuracies with respect to 
 other arts and sciences — will be entirely omitted 
 
 in 
 
 * Lives of the Poets, vol. ii. 326. 
 ; Sec note 133. 
 
 ''NOTES. 4x5 
 
 In tliis enumeration. This is very improbable, 
 considering how common a source of critical cen- 
 sure this was. For while, on the one hand, the 
 extravagant admirers of Homer made no scruple 
 to assert, that his Poems contained the principles 
 of all arts and sciences ; on the other, we know 
 how eagerly the Zoilists caught at every apparent 
 inaccuracy of this kind ; and, particularly, with 
 respect to his geography. One instance, at least^ 
 of this sort of cavil, we have in this chapter : the 
 censure of the passage, 'Oiti r a>/otp^®-, //. d. 489, 
 fell on Homer's ignorance of astronomy ^-— 
 2. By the manner in which Aristotle here men- 
 tions, first, the five sources of critical censures 
 and then, immediately, the twelve sources of 
 Ai;(r£»f or answers, it is plain, I think, that he 
 means— answers to those censures, and to all of 
 them. But this cannot be the case, if we under- 
 stand essential faults in the Poetry itself, or bad 
 imitation: for this admits of no answer, but a 
 direct denial of the fact. Whereas, if we under- 
 stand incidental errors in other arts, all will be 
 consistent; and et?en/ fault enumerated will find 
 its answer in some of the Xyernf, wnich had been 
 pointed out in the preceding part of the chapter, 
 and are referred to in this enumeration. — 3. If the 
 art here mentioned be the art ot Poetry itself 
 
 and 
 
 ** For instances of such objections, both to the geo- 
 graphy, and the astronomy, of Homer, the reader may 
 
 ۩iisuk Strabo, passim. 
 
i 
 
 416 NOTES. 
 
 and the faults against that art be, as I understand 
 them to be, essential faults, faults which constitute 
 bad Poetry, i. e. in Aristotle's view, bad imitatmi, 
 this plainly implies, that the four other faults 
 enumerated are wo^ essential, but accidental faults; 
 xaT« (rujtAJ3£(3Ti)c®». But, that such faults as impro- 
 hability, and immorality^ (aXoyot, (3xaPi^«,) which 
 had just before been singled out from the 
 rest, as o^9a» i^7^^T^lx7^(^t^; — as the most solid objec- 
 tions, and such as admitted of no excuse — that 
 these should be considered by Aristotle as faults 
 merely incidental, not to be objected to the Poetry 
 itself, not affecting the merit of the imitation, J 
 xaV 'EATTHN aixa^nai, is what, as I have before 
 said, I cannot easily conceive ^ 
 
 Tlie expression itself — -rra^a tijw o^^omru m* 
 xoLToc Tsx^nvj is indeed ambiguous ; and tliey, who 
 prefer the sense which I have rejected, will per- 
 haps think it favoured by the similar expression, 
 dearly applied to faults against the art of Poetry 
 
 itself, in the passage, — Trorr^wv eV* to a/Aa^Ttipa, TWk 
 KATA THN TEXNHN, r^ xat aAAo (rvfxfiiQnx^^ 
 The expressions, however, are not exactly tlie 
 same. 1 here, it is, xaroc THN n^ynv — " against 
 the art :" here,— xara n^^v^v : " contrary to the 
 rectitude of art.'" — But Aristotle had before used 
 an expression, that seemed still more strongly 
 to point at the art of Poetry : roc v^o; ATTHN 
 THN TEXNHN i^vyxrot : w hich, however, it seems 
 
 necessary, 
 
 I Note 233. 
 
 NOTES. 417 
 
 hecessary, for the reasons given in note i;^^, to 
 understand in the same sense, which I have here 
 given to Kocroc Tix^vfiv, But that passage, and 
 indeed this zvhole chapter, is, in its present state, 
 so full of obscurity arid ambiguity, that every 
 interpretation which can be given must necessarily 
 be, in a great measure, conjectural and disputable. 
 All I can venture to be confident of is, that my 
 explanation of this passage is consistent with my 
 explanation of the oUier ; and that either both are 
 right, or both are wrons. 
 
 ^^otE 26^. 
 
 P. 202. The answers, which are twelve, &c. 
 
 Horv the different Auo-ri? or solutions proposed 
 
 throughout the chapter are reducible to 1 2, and 
 
 which are the 1 2 that Aristotle meant, are questions, 
 
 Hhich the defective state of the original renders 
 
 it very difficult, if not impossible, to answer, with 
 
 any certainty. And indeed the matter is of so 
 
 little importance, that it is by no means worth 
 
 while to enter into any examination of the various 
 
 modes of reckoning, by which different expositors 
 
 have endeavoured to solve the problem. Ficto- 
 
 rius, indeed, is so wise, as to give up the attempt. 
 
 It will be very easy however, and therefore, I 
 
 hope, not very foolish, just to enumerate all the 
 
 Au<r«*f, which actually have been mentioned in the 
 
 chapter, in the order in which they occur, and 
 
 VOL. ir. E £ then 
 
4ia . N^ O T E S. 
 
 then to examine, by way of experiment, wheilier 
 they are any way reducible to twelve. 
 
 i.-wn;y;^ayEz t» tbXsj, Ta owTVi, — I.e. The end of Poetry is better 
 
 answered, &c. 
 2. — x«Ta ovfji&eB^^ . - - - Tlie fault is vuidental. 
 3. — oja 5^Ei, (or, ^iXTiov) - - - It is what is best, or what 
 
 should be. 
 4: — oux ^offt, (or, wa ^oxe*) - - - It is according to general 
 
 opinioji, 
 5. — Ota h, h env (or, irwj ilxtv, or, aX>i5ii) - - - - to truth. 
 
 [6. — cTKTfTwv — Eij Tov w^axTovra, ^foj ov, ote, &c.] - [Consider c»r- 
 
 cumstances.'l 
 -r. — rx«TT»i ------ Defend, by the foreign sense 
 
 of the word. 
 8. — MBTccpo^a ..------by Metaphor. 
 
 q. — xara H^oa-u^iav -------by Accent. 
 
 10. — Atai^sffu ---------by Punctuation, 
 
 11. — Aft^i^oxwf hy Ambiguity. 
 
 12. — xara TO id®- 1715 Xflcajf ----- hy Customary speech, 
 
 13. — noj'ax«5 ow c^»iv£t£ — or, «a6' ofAawfjiiav by the different senset 
 
 of a ti'orc^. 
 [14. — ^rAfl«/*6j»(^ Xz/erif] ------- [Glaucous answer.] 
 
 [i^._«V(^^ xoi cTOfa TO £1*®- 7»v£<rfi»] [Probable, that many things 
 
 should happen improbably.] 
 [16. — Ov TO auTOy h i v^e; ro aino, &c.] [Tlie same thing is not spo- 
 ken of, or, not in the 
 same respect, &c.] 
 
 Here are, then, 16 different answers. Of these, 
 it seems, upon tlie whole, most probable, that the 
 12 not enclosed in brackets, are the 12 which 
 Aristotle means. My reason is, that in the begin- 
 ning of the chapter, after laying down the three 
 distinct considerations, of the different objects of 
 imitation, the privileges of poetical language, and 
 
 tl)e 
 
 NOTES. 419 
 
 ihe distinction of essential and incidental faults, 
 he immediately, and explicitly, refers to those 
 three principles, as sources of all the anmers. 
 
 nn in rx iiriTtfxnfAXTx EK TOTTflN iVktxo- 
 
 *HVTx ATEIN. Now it will be found, I believe, 
 that the 1 2 answers above mentioned are drawn 
 from tliose sources, and that the four remainin<T 
 answers are not 
 
 But why these four, which evidently are pro- 
 posed as answers, and seem to be disti?2Ct answers, 
 were not admitted in the concluding enumeration, 
 it may not be easy to shew. Perhaps, Aristotle 
 reckoned only as one solution, the two which he ' 
 assigns to the same objection, with an >?, or arw? rt 
 Hxi, &c. This would throw out N°' 14, and 15, 
 which seem, indeed, to be mentioned only as a 
 sort of secondary or subsidiary answers. As to 
 N*' 6, and 1 6, he might consider them as one ; 
 both of them, in fact, saying the same thing, and 
 nearly in the same words — i. e. " circmnstances 
 " must be considered." Still however, takint^ 
 these together as one answer, that answer will be 
 supernumerary ; and how it is fairly to be got rid 
 of, it is difficult to see : the more difficult, because 
 it is the only XMtrK; furnished by the whole chapter 
 to the objection of immoral tendency, (/3Aaj3ifa,) 
 upon which so great stress is laid. 
 
 All that seems tolerably clear is, that the 1 2 
 answers intended in the recapitulation are those 
 1 2, which are deducible from the three principles 
 
 E E 2 laid 
 
410 NOTE S. 
 
 laid down at the openins: of the cliapter. In this 
 •idea, which I had formed before I consulted any 
 commentator, I was glad to find myself supported 
 by Gouhton, in his accurate analysis ; where he 
 makes the i 2 answers to be those here assigned, 
 and draws them from tlie three sources at the be- 
 ginning of the chapter : viz. three from the Jirst 
 source, (N°* 3, 4, 5,)— <*^^'^^^ ^^^"^ ^^^^ second— 
 •the diction, (N°' 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13,)— and 
 two from the third souvcCy (N°* 1, and 2.) 
 
 KOTE 263. 
 P. 203. If that \vhicii ib tiik least 
 
 VULGAR OR POPULAR BE THE BEST — . 
 
 - — Hrrov ^OPTIKH. — Tiie word ^o^T»xoy is used 
 in a number of different, and sometimes nicely 
 discriminated, senses, which cannot, all of them, 
 be expressed by any single word in our language. 
 Sometimes, for example, it is to be rendered by 
 extra-vcigant, violent, charged, outre \ Sec, as in 
 
 the 
 
 * The Latin writers use molcstus In this sense; for 
 ■whatever is violent, overdone, laboured, affected, &c. 
 Thus Cicero, in the following elegant passage of his 
 Brutus: " Volo enim, ut in scena, sic etiam in foro, now 
 '^ COS modo laudari, qui celeri motu 6c difficili utantur, 
 *' sed eos etiam quos statarios appellaftt, quorum sit ilia 
 " iimplex-, in agendo y Veritas, non Molest A." i.e. ^n 
 ^c^iwj. cap. XXX. Again — " Latine loqucndi accu- 
 •* rata, ct sine molestia diligens, clegantia : i,e. witholit 
 
 '♦ ial>wr 
 
 NOTES. 421 
 
 tiie following passage of Diog, Laertius about 
 
 Bion : — iiy h xoLi 6iaT^ix(^, xtxi voKuq lu rw yiAoiw 
 ^i»(po^r,aon, ^OPTIKOIS o^oiJ^oc(rt kxtk jm n^ocyfAccruv 
 
 >:f^/Af^'(^^ — i.e. exti^crcagant, e.vaggerated, outres, 
 as Bayle has well explained it, art Bion, note [b], 
 where he gives an instance of this extiavagance 
 of expression in that philosopher, from Plutarch, 
 -who calls it C>0PTIKI1TEP0N ^ 
 
 Sometimes, applied to persons, it means trou- 
 blesome, tiresome, &c. as in iElian — -roAu? nV 
 AaAwv, x«» fcToxfi $OPTIK02. Far. Bist.XlL 13.— 
 Sometimes, insolent, overbearing, &c. as, in the 
 same writer, it is said of a famous courtesan,— 'H 
 ii iu rnEPH^ANOI K«* j£iFwf TOPTIKH. XII. 63". 
 — Sometimes, again, and that very frequently, it 
 is used as synonymous with dyiKtvh^^, j3amu(r(^, 
 popular, laic, vulgar, &c. as opposed to what is 
 liberal, refined, delicate, genteel, &c. Thus PIu- 
 
 tarch — ai/fAfuGe^aj xo/xijyj xat ^OPTIKAS— (pa>Ta(riaf. 
 
 p. 216, ed, H. S. And Plato— f »AoTi^^ 
 
 "^""^^ 
 
 "^ labour or affectation.** cap. xxxviii.— Catullus, too, of 
 an affected grin ; 
 
 - - - - • ilbj, quam videtis 
 Turpe incederc, mimice ac moleste 
 Ridentem, catuli ore Gallicani. 
 »» IV. 52. 
 
 *= EfwTix. p. 1 37 1, cd. H. St. See also xhtTimon of 
 Lucian, ed. Bent p. 59.— »a aoi O^OPTIKIIS JioXEyw/^oi-^ 
 Le, (as the context shews,) with the extravagance of Tra^ 
 gic rant. 
 
 Jul. Poll. VI. 5. ^ /- '^ 
 
 i:E3 
 
4 
 
 422 NOTES, 
 
 Tfiv [Atv ecTd Twv ;^u/x«Twv fl^ovfiK <fOPTIKHN Tjvfld 
 liyfiTa* — " The ambitious man looks upon gain 
 " as a vtdgar sort of pleasure," De Rep, IX^ 
 p. 254, ed. AIass,-^i\i\. Pollux describes a species 
 of dance called MoOwv, as, ^OPTIKON ofx*"/** '**• 
 vauTtxov — " a vulgar and sailor'Uke dance;" the 
 hornpipe^ I suppose, of the Greeks ^ And thus 
 Athenaeus, where he mentions, from Herodotus, 
 the curious story of Agarista, (the daughter of 
 Clisthenes, king of Sicyon,) and her suitors, says, 
 
 that Clisthenes rejected HippocUdes^ \$m 4>OP^ 
 
 TIKI22 opx^a-xiAivov : because he did not dafice like 
 a gentleman^ : a charge, which, according to He- 
 rodotus, seems indeed to have been pretty well 
 founded ; for he tells us, that Hippoclides got upon 
 ^ table and danced upon his kead^, — But let us 
 return to Aristotle. This last sense of the word 
 f flpTixov appears to me clearly to be tliat, in which 
 it is here used by him. I cannot think, that by 
 f ppTixn, he intended to express, as Dacier, and the 
 commentators before him, explain it, the trouble 
 and eapefuce of theatrical exhibition — the number 
 of things wanted — actors, scenes, dresses, mu' 
 sic, &c \ Of all the commentators I liave seen, 
 
 M. Batteujc 
 
 ' And see Suidas, v. Mofla;v. ' P. 628. 
 
 * — Trjy xf^oXw tpiia-oi etti tw r^avt^avy rot; £XEAEX( 
 EXEIPONOMH2E. Herod, VI. p. 238. ed, H. St, 
 
 ** '* ^TTov ^o^uctf — i.e* qua paucioribus eget adjumentis 
 •^ extrinsecus sumptis" &c. RobortelU, — '* Men gravosoy* 
 j^ i\\z same sense^ Castelvftro,-^^' Manco carca e mancq 
 
 <* pisogrtBsa 
 
 NOTES. 423 
 
 M. Batteux alone gives, in a short note, what I 
 tliink the true meaning of the word in this place : — 
 " 0o^T*x©», grossier, digne des mercenaires. Aris- 
 " tote. Politic. VIH. c. 6. oppose le spectateur 
 ■* mercenaire & ignorant, ^ojtixJ^, au spectateur 
 " honnete ; & le plaisir grossier, nVovti ^o^xixtj, les 
 '* danses grossieres, x*v)j(r«f ^o^Tix«T£^af, au plaisir 
 " delicat, aux danses honnetes." 
 
 Aristotle himself will here be his best com- 
 mentator, in the passages to which M. Batteux 
 refers. 
 
 Some sorts of rhythm^ he says, ^OPTIKXITE- 
 PAZ ix^fTi rot; xtk»)fl-£K, (violent and vulgar,) o« ^i, 
 EAETeEPinTEPAS '. Again, in the next chapter, 
 relative to the musical education of youtli, he 
 speaks of the pleasure of a popular musical au- 
 dience, as a vulgar^ illiberal sort of pleasure. 
 " The performer there/* he says, " aims only at 
 the pleasure of the hearers," xai rauTHf ^OPTl- 
 KHI* ^lOTTi^ « TnN EAEr0EPX2N x^iuofxtv tlvoa mv 
 i^yxciotify (" such performance does not become a 
 
 gentleman^,'') dwoc 0HTIKaTEPAN- (the play- 
 
 4( 
 
 
 incr 
 
 " bisognosa d*aiutoJ'* Piccol. — Beni follows Robortelli. 
 Victorius renders—** importuna et molesta,'^ but enters 
 into no particular explanation. Dacier ^-^^^ la moins 
 " chargee, & celle qui dcmande le moins d^aide ^ de 
 •* sec our 5^^^ 
 
 « Dc Rep. VIII. 5. p. 455, E. 
 
 ^ In discussing, however, the question, whether boys 
 should learn Music practically, and play or sing them- 
 
 E £ 4 selves. 
 
is 
 
 414 NOTES. 
 
 iiig of a man who is paid for playing:) xm 
 
 BANAT20TZ cTtj (mechamcs) (ru/xj3aiv«t y»yj/£fl-9«t* 
 
 yx^ 0EATH2, OOPTIK02 cJv, ^Erapa^Aiiy a'a,0£ tijw 
 
 ^«o-<x>iv— . /foV/. p. 457, 8.— In the next chapter 
 is the following passage, still more directly to our 
 present purpose, in which he expressly distin- 
 guishes, as here, the two sorts of spectators, or 
 hearers:-— OfiaTyi? ^^rrt^, fxiy EAETeEPOI x«» 
 nEnAIAEYMENOZ, ^i ^OPTIKOI, ix pMocv<rcop, 
 xon ^mruu, xat aXXcju romruv, (TMyKn^iyi^. p, 450, A'. 
 
 The word occurs frequently in other parts of 
 Aristotle's writings, and seems generally, if not 
 always, to be used in the same sense "*• 
 
 By (po^Tixrj, then, applied to Tragedy, I think it 
 clear, that he means only— calculated for tpo^nxoi 
 
 m 
 
 spectators ; 
 
 selves, Aristotle determines, that they shouldy and gives 
 this reason, that " it is a thing impossible, or, at least, 
 <' very difficult, for those, who do not actually practise an 
 ^' art, to be good judges of it." /).456.— It might be SQ 
 in those days. Adodern connoisseurs, both in Music and 
 Painting, find no such difficulty. 
 
 * So Plutarch, in the beginning of his Comparison of 
 Aristophanes and Menander, p. 1567, ed, H. S.— To 4>0P- 
 TIKON, ^«rjv, b >sayoi;, Kai 9viMBXut0Vy km BANATION, ty^ 
 inv A§i(rTO(pav£tf Mivcrj^^u ^f i^ofxa;. Kcu ya^, (jisv AIIAI- 
 AETT02 xai lAfHTHS vis exEiv©- t^ec aMcKsrai, h 
 
 Ethic, hicom. IV. 8. — &0}fxoXoxoi — xai ^o^woi. And 
 I. 5, where he says, that, 'Ol HOAAOI nai <^Q?TIKD.^ 
 
 TATOJ, ht\([i\\G summum honumioh^pkasure^ See also 
 fihet, IIJ, T, p. 584, A. 
 
 NOTES. 425 
 
 spectators ; adapted to the entertainment oi popu- 
 lar audiences" — to the taste, as we commonly 
 express it, of the upper gallery, as opposed to the 
 refined and cultivated taste of men of reading 
 and reflection. 
 
 As far as 1 can judge, from a comparison of the 
 different senses of the word with its etymology ", 
 the common idea, which runs through and con- 
 nects them all, is that of excess, or, perhaps, 
 more exactly, of offensive, disgusting, or burden-^ 
 some, by excess, of some kind or other. 
 
 NOTE 264. 
 
 P. 203. As IF THE AUDIENCE, WITHOUT 
 THE AID OF ACTION, &C. 
 
 *Xlf yap a)c aiV9<a!j/ojU£>wi/, dv fxri ATTOS IIPO20Hi, 
 
 TToXXny xiVTiG-iv xivavTon, — This wound has been 
 sufficiently probed. When I found, that the 
 " medica manus'' of Mr. Toup had been tried 
 upon it, I looked, at least, for the " salubres 
 *' Ambrosias succos, et odoriferam panaceam%" 
 if not for the precious Dictamnus, that would 
 entirely heal it. He proposed to read — dv /xa 
 ATA02 nPOZHt \ I should be very sorry to do 
 
 • ^^y 
 
 " Mr. Pope, probaMy without thinking of Aristotle, 
 has almost translated him, where, in his preface tp 
 Shakspearc, he says — ** It must be allowed, that stage^ 
 '' poetry, of all others, is more particularly levelled tq 
 ^' please the populace,''^ 
 
 ^ From 0OPTO2— o;.w. » Jlh. XII. 41 1. 
 
 > §?e Mr, Winstauley's notc,|>. 309 of his CiliiiqiV 
 
426 NOTES. 
 
 any injustice to the emendation of so masterly a 
 Greek scholar -, but I am obliged to confess, that 
 I do not understand it. " The imitators have 
 *' recourse to every kind of motion, just as if the 
 ** audience were not able to understand, (or, to 
 " hear) them, without the addition or accompani* 
 ** ment of djiuttr How any sense can be made 
 of this, or of any other fair version of the passage, 
 so corrected, I cannot discover. The emendation, 
 surely, requires to be explained, at least ; and if 
 Mr. Toup gave any explanation in his letter to 
 Mr. Winstanley, it is to be wished, that the 
 learned editor had communicated it to the public 
 in his note. 
 
 It is some comfort, however, that the general 
 weaning of the passage seems liable to little or no 
 difficulty ; and, accordingly, in tliat, all the com- 
 mentators, I think, are agreed, however widely 
 they may differ as to the reading. 
 
 NOTE 265. 
 
 P. 203. Like bad flute^players, who 
 
 WHIRL THEMSELVES ROUND, WHEN THEY 
 VOULD IMITATE THE MOTION OF THE DIS,» 
 CUS . 
 
 This is one of those antique curiosities, which 
 we stare at, without knowing very well what to 
 make of it. — 'Ay AI2K0N ^£»j ju»/Af»(r9at. Wt should 
 think it very strange, if we were told of a flute- 
 player having occasion to imitate a quoit. But we 
 ^ aro 
 
 NOTES. 42y.. 
 
 are not to understand tliis of a mere instrumental 
 solo, but of a performer accompanyincr w(yrds 
 sung by a Chorus, (as appears from the mention 
 of the CoryphceusJ and endeavouring, in an absurd 
 manner, to express them. The antient AuA»jr»!f, or 
 Tibicen, was not, it seems, a mere sedentary per- 
 former, like those of a modern orchestra. He 
 accompanied the Cliorus with his person, as well 
 as with his instrument, and seems to have paraded 
 about tliie stage, in a pompous dress ; to h^ve made 
 » part of the Oj/»f, or sheu\ and to have joined in 
 all the turns, and returns, and various evolutions, 
 of the choral dance. Hence the description of 
 Horace : 
 
 Sic priscae motumque et luxuriam addidit aiti 
 Tibicen, traxitque vacvs per pu/pi fa vestcm. 
 
 A. P. 214. 
 Lucian, in his Harmonides, describing the requi- 
 sites of a good AuAnTUf, mentions, among the rest, 
 
 ^a» BAINEIN ly /uG^w*. — The great masters, no 
 doubt, respected themselves, and confined their 
 motion to the dignity of a sort of rhythmic strut. 
 But Aristotle, here, is describing the tricks of the 
 fauAoi or f pflTixot performers. Such a performer 
 772/^/?/ have occasion, or rather take occasion, to 
 imitate the whirling or rollii^ of a disc, if the sub^ 
 ject, for example, of the choral song chanced to be 
 the story of Apollo and Hyacinthus; which i^ 
 naentioned by I^ucian in £t long list of fabulous 
 
 §ubjects^ 
 
 • „ ? P, 638, r^, 5^;;, 
 
V 4 
 
 428 NOTES. 
 
 subjects, enumerated as a part of the knowledge 
 requisite to an accomplished pantomimic dancer ^ 
 Or, the subject might be taken from Homer, 
 Od.^, 186, &c. 
 
 KuXiofAivoi. Dacier, in his note, translates this, 
 " rolling themselves tipon the ground^ This 
 would be (po^riycov indeed. Yet in this idea he 
 follows Victorius ; who enters into a discussion, of 
 some length, to prove that xuXi o/aivo* can mean 
 nothing but i^oliws: on the i^rouud. Nor will he 
 allow the difficulty of doing this while they rrere 
 playing to be a sufficient objection. Certainly, the 
 usual and proper sense of the word is on his side. 
 But it was natural enough, surely, to apply to the 
 motion imitating, the term proper to the motion 
 imitated. 
 
 ^ Dc Salt, p. 933. ed. Ben. — A modern dancer — per- 
 haps even A^Jl. Vcstris himself — would stare at the account 
 which Luclan gives in that treatise, of the accomplish- 
 ments necessary to make a perfect dancer, '* He must 
 not only understand music, but poetry, geometry, and 
 above ?i\\^ philosophy ^ natural mid moral \ rhetoric, paint- 
 ** ing, sculpture ; especially, he must have an excellent 
 ** memory, and have all history at his fingers ends, from 
 ** the creation of the world down to Cleopatra,'* &c. 
 Logic, indeed, Lucia n confesses, is not absolutely neces- 
 sary. But so great, he says, must be his knowledge, that, 
 '* like Homer'' s Chulcas, he mu^t know — 
 
 " - — Ta t' o'/TXy IOC T* £j7(rO/CX£va, ^fo T* icvTa !'* 
 
 All this Lucian professes to prove; but, as might well be 
 expected, some of his assertions are very lauicly made 
 i)4it, others slurred ovcr^ or ciuirely neglected. The 
 
 treatise. 
 
 ,V. O T E S. 
 
 429 
 
 
 NOTE 266, 
 
 * < ■ ^ 
 
 P. 203. AXD PULL THE CoRYPHiEUS WHEIT 
 SCYLLA IS THE SUBJECT. 
 
 *Eax(ji/t£? toi/ Ko^u^aiov. — To imitate Scyllay — > 
 " naves in saxa trahentem,'' as Virgil has expressed 
 it \ But it is not easy to see, how the performer, 
 at least uliile he was playing, could well spare 
 a hand for this operation.— This was even worse 
 than wiiat we call humouring a. ciilch; when, for 
 instance, a singer who is performing Purcells 
 " Fie, nay prithee, .M;^'— thinks it necessaj'y to 
 collar his neighbour. 
 
 NOTE 267, 
 
 P. 204. The TRAGIC IxMITATION, WHEN- 
 ENTIRE. 
 
 'H *OAH Tt)(^vn. Heinsius proposed, n AAAH 
 rtx^n. But I believe the established reading to be 
 right. The whole art —i.e. Tragedy, as j^epre- 
 sen ted; with all its const it ue7it parts, and, as it 
 was said before, avxi^Toc fjufxaixufn. For it might, 
 as Aristotle presently observes, be read, or recited, 
 like an Epic Poem ; and, in that view, the com- 
 parison here made would not hold. 
 
 Tg;^»/?i — 
 
 treatise, however, is, upon the whole, a curious piece ; 
 and, though far from sufficient to give a clear and com- 
 plete idea of the pantomimic dance of the anticnts, yet ic 
 affords more information about it, than is to be found, 
 I believe, any where else. 
 
 - T— ■ 
 
 * j£n. 111. 425. 
 
1^5^ NOTES. 
 
 Tt^yri — L e, the Tragic art : for so he uses the 
 word, cap. i. not for the whole Poetic art, but for 
 It single branch of it : — h raig iI^r/Awaif TEXNAI2 — 
 Le, Epic Poetry, Tragedy, Comedy, &c. So too 
 mt the end of that chapter: rxt iiotpo^u^ TXlM 
 TEXNHN. And, again, at the end of this chapter, 
 (as I understand the passage,) rm TEXNHX ipyw. 
 See NOTE 277. 
 
 * 
 
 NOTE 268. 
 
 P. 204. To HEARERS OF THE BETTER 
 10 RT — . 
 
 — Qtxra^ ETTUixiK : to which he opposes ^«uA«r. 
 The word fV»£iX£if seems rightly explained here by 
 Dacier — " ks honnites gens ; c est a dire, les gens 
 •* qui ont cu une meilleure education." The pas- 
 sage, which he quotes from Plato, is much to the 
 purpose of this chapter. Suyp^wpw h royt ro^nrov 
 Kxt lyu roig 'jroXXoi^, hiy rnv juscixuv i^ovv xpivitr^at * 
 fi,n fxivroi ruv ivirv^oyruv ' aXXos fr^tioy Ixuvrtv tlvxi 
 fAxtrav xaAXimv, nVi? TOTS BEATIITOTS, x«i 
 IKANHS UEnAmErUENOrX TE^fTu.—De Leg, 11. 
 p^ 658. 
 
 Aristotle uses iViiixnc in the same sense, Etfi. 
 Nicom, IV. 8, p. 186, ed. IVilk. — rotauTjt Xtyny 
 nai AKHSiy, oift TU EniEIKEI KAI EAETeEPAi 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 43 « 
 
 NOTE 269. 
 
 P. 204. And in singing — . 
 Koci ^ixiopra. There seems great reason to 
 suspect this word. For, what is the force of the 
 preposition here ? Some commentators, without 
 disputing the reading, neglect the preposition en- 
 tirely, and render the word as if it were the simple 
 participle, cl^oyra. Others understand, singing 
 throughout: " qui continenter canit." Goulst. 
 But the proper sense of «^*a<ri«v, would, I think, 
 be— to sing dissonant li/— to sing out of tune,— as, 
 AlA(p<ayuy. And SO the word is actually used in 
 the treatise Utpi Ko(r/x», in Aristotle's works, and 
 opposed to ITNxioy, as AlA<puyny is to XTM^w- 
 Hiy: — cvfMppofAtyeyy xoei ^ia^i^ofAiyoy ' a-vyocioy, xxt 
 
 AIAiAON *. " The agreeing, and the disagreeing, 
 *' the consonant, and the disso7iant ^" But as the 
 word cannot here be admitted, in that which ap- 
 pears to be its only proper and warrantable sense, 
 1 suspect, it might, originally, have been only 
 ahyrx. Considering how frequently A and A were 
 confounded by transcribers, KAI AIAONTA micrht 
 easily be blundered into KAI AIAIAONTA. One 
 MS. reading is iixM$oyrx ; where the AI, plainly 
 enough, arose from the AI. 
 
 The commentators understand from this pas- 
 sage, that there were two sorts of rhapsodists ; 
 
 . -«_«____ ^"^' 
 
 * Tom A, p. 609. \ Harris. Philos. Jnang.p.^j, 
 
431 . NOTES, 
 
 one, of those who 7rci fed Epic Poetry, and anothet'^ 
 of those uho sang it. Whether tliis can be proved 
 from other passages of autient authors, I know 
 not. From this, it certainly cannot. Aristotle 
 says, KAI fx^^uSsvrx — KAI $iOL^ouToc\ Whatever 
 the ^iolSoqu was, he is here clearly distinguished from 
 the paif/wcTwv — the rhapsodist. 
 
 That the rhapsodists did not, in the strict and 
 musical sense, at least, of the word, shig the verses 
 of Homer, but recited or declaimed them only, we 
 may pretty safely infer, from what is expressly 
 said of Epic Poetry at the beginning of tliis work- 
 that " it imitates by ztvrds only,'' without melody 
 and rhvthm — i.e. without music. This, indeed, 
 will not prove that Epic Poetry was never sung, 
 any more than what was said of Tragedy— that 
 it imitates by xvords and rnusic — will prove that it 
 was never recited, or read. Yet the least, I think, 
 that can be inferred from it, is, that Epic Poetry 
 was, in general, and for the most part, recited or 
 declaimed only ; and, consequently, that the rim})' 
 sodists, properly so called, being the established 
 
 performa^s 
 
 « This passage is much mistaken by M. Batteux, who 
 renders it, " Qu'on peut faire cies gestes en recitant 
 
 *' I'Epopee, qu'on peut mime chanter ,* &c. Faire des 
 
 gestes, comes far short of nEPlEPrAZEI0AI aijueioig. 
 The KM which precedes the participle, pa^uhvTUy is 
 omitted : and to produce his sense of ^ix^mra~qu*on peut 
 mime chanter, the Greek should be — in Tts^u^ya^taQM - - - 
 im S-iflcAElN. 
 
 NOTES. 433 
 
 perfonners of Epic Poetry, as the actors ^ were of 
 Tragic, performed it always in that manner; 
 without singing, any farther, than as the tones of 
 loud and sustained declamation approach more 
 nearly to singing than those of common reading. 
 The earliest Lyric Poet-Musicians, indeed, as we 
 learn from Plutarch and Athenaeus, used to sincr 
 even the hexameters of Horner and Hesiod, as well 
 as their own, to the lyre. But they, plainly, speak 
 of this, as of an antient practice : — rov Te^ttuv^oov, 
 
 KI0APIlAIKnN TTOinrnv ovra, vo[jt,uv, [hym?is,^ xccrx 
 vQl^ov Ixarov, TOIS EIIE2:r, to»? lauT», xai TOIi: 
 •OVIHPOT, MEAH Tn^mhi^TX, AiAEIN h rotg dyutny, 
 
 Plut, Dial, de Mas, p. 2074, ed. //. St. And 
 afterwards — or» h o» xtGa^wtTixoi yoii.(n^ 'oi IIAAAI 
 If EnnN (Tunr^vT*, Tijuo0£©^ £(^»jA«r£, &c. p. 2075. 
 So, too, Athenaeus : — ** Chamceleo7i, in his book 
 
 about Stesichorus, x«t f^iKuMi^vxi ^»i(ri, a i^ovov rx 
 'OfAfi^u, xWx Kxi 'Htf-jo^tf, xa* A^;^iX«;^8, &c. KAI 
 
 fj.tX(>}Mft¥ati — " were even sung." p. 620. 
 
 It is not, however, at all improbable, that Ho- 
 mer might be sometimes sung, in Aristotle's time, 
 and that this Mnasitheus, (of whom nothing is 
 known,) might be a performer in this way. But, 
 that tliis was a distinct thing from pa\J/w(^ta seems 
 
 pretty cleSr. 
 
 ^ — • — — „ , 
 
 ^ Va^uhi, and imoK^nai, are continually jv-)incd to- 
 gether. See Plato, in that entertaining dialogue, the lo, 
 torn, I. p, 532, D. 535, E. and in a great many other 
 places. 
 
 VOL. ir. 
 
 F F 
 
434 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 270, 
 
 P. 205. Whose gestures resemble those 
 
 OF IMMODEST WOMEN. 
 
 The passage of Aulus Gellius, to which I re- 
 ferred in my note on the translation, as a story, 
 both curious in itself, and confirming what was 
 there advanced, is this. " Ilistrio in terr^ Graecia 
 fuit fam4 celebri : qui, gestus et vocis claritudlne 
 & venr^tate, caeteris antestabat. Noinen fuisse 
 aiunt PoLUM. Tragcjedias poetarum nobiliuni 
 scitfe atque asseverate actitavit. Is Polus 
 " umch amatum filium mortc amisit. Eum luctum 
 quum satis visus est eluxisse, rediit ad quaestum 
 artis. In eo tempore Athenis Elcctram So- 
 phoclis acturus, gestare urnani quasi cum 
 Orestis ossibus debebat. Ita compositum fa- 
 bulae argumentum est, ut, veluti fratris reliquias 
 ferens Electra, comploret commisereturque in- 
 " teritum ejus, qui per vim extinctus existimatur. 
 Igitur Polus, lugubri habitu Electrae indutus, 
 ossa atque umam h, sepulchro tuUt fihi ; 8c, quasi 
 Orestis amplexus, opplevit omnia, non simula- 
 chris neque imitamentis, sed luctu atque lamentis 
 " veris & spirantibus. Itaque, quum agi fabula 
 " videretur, dolor actitatus est." A. GelLVIL 5. 
 
 <i 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 (( 
 
 ^: 
 
 n 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 i< 
 
 it 
 
 it 
 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 435 
 
 NOTE 271. 
 
 P. 205. The music and the decoration, 
 
 BY THE LATTER OF WHICH THE ILLUSION IS 
 HEIGHTENED, &C. 
 
 The Greek, here, in either of the two readings 
 warranted by manuscript authority, is unsatis- 
 factory and suspicious, and the setise, consequently, 
 uncertain. The reading of the old editions is— 
 
 tf* »jf Tocg i^ovotg l-mfOLvrvA hapys^xTx: which Vic- 
 
 torius renders— '' per qiumi voluptates percipiunt 
 " evident'mhnh : "— ^ '' through, or by means of, 
 " xchich, they perceive the pleasures most evidently" 
 Nothing can well be more harsh, or stranf^e — 
 iTirxvToti—they perceive: — TVho? — The spec- 
 tators. To this mode of speaking, however, 
 I should not object ; because this ellipsis, of U 
 AV0/>«7roi, is frequent in both the Greek and Latin 
 writers '. Thus, in the beginning of this chapter, 
 x»i/«vT«i. This answers to that very convenient 
 idiom, of which the French make so much use, 
 and which we so often find the \vant of— ow 
 s agite — on apperf oit, &c. ^ 
 
 * See Sanct. Mincrv, IV. 4, and Feriz, note 39. 
 
 *» According to Menage, the Fr. on, is only a cor- 
 ruption of homme ; and on dit, for example, was antiently 
 written, *' /;«ow dit." And thus the Italian writers use 
 wm. Thus — " quando mm se n'accorge." Tasso's 
 Aminta. — " Vom dice." Petrarch, Son, 190, &:c. And 
 thus the Germans use the word man : ntan fa^i—men 
 ^^y—they say, &c.— See Menage's Osscrvaz, sopra 
 PAminta, 
 
 y F 2 
 
 ! 
 
436 NOTES. 
 
 But, the verb, iTrtravra*, will, I apprehend, by 
 no n::eans bear the sense here forced upon it, of 
 perceiving pleasure *" ; or any sense, but that of 
 trnderstaiiding, or knoxting. Were I, therefore, 
 obliged to make sojne sense of this reading, it would 
 be tliis : — " per quam [(juee tjjiciimtur^ voluptates, 
 " mrunt homines apertissim^ :*' — ** the pleasures, 
 " which are produced through which, are clearly 
 " understood — well known to all." But this, I 
 confess, is v iolcnt interpretation ; and, in parti- 
 cuhu', T doubt whether the word lyx^yn is ever 
 used, by Aristotle at least, as merely synonymous 
 to f «i/£^ov ; as evident to reason or understanding, 
 and opposed to doubtful. It always means, I 
 believe, evident, clear, visible, to the eye of ima- 
 gination. Thus, cap. xvii. — An ^f T«f ^u6a? (7u- 
 
 wravat or* |uaXir« nPO OMMATXIN Tihy.iyQv' 
 
 arw y^e *'" ENAPFEXTATA 'OPXIN, wo-tti^ HAP' 
 ATTOIS nrNOMENOI TOIi: nPATTOMENOIS, 
 &c. These \\ords seem to furnish the best com- 
 mtnt upon the passage in (juestion, and will 
 perhaps lead us to the most reasonable and least 
 exct ptionable interpretation of it; for perfect 
 satisfjrtion is not, I tliink, to be expected, in the 
 present condition of the text. We ought, surely, 
 at all events, to adhere to the proper and clear 
 meanintT of the adverb ivoc^yirocrx, as used in the 
 passage just cited ; where the word itself, and the 
 
 explanatory 
 
 « p^'icu himself admits this objcLtion : " Verbum hoc 
 {emTanai) insolens videtur in hoc significatu." 
 
 NOTES. 437 
 
 explanatory expressions which accompany it, afford 
 a pretty strong presumption, that Aristotle, here, 
 meant to express the particular advantage which 
 Tragedy receives from the oj/i?, or, from actual 
 representation*, as giving to the imitation the 
 greatest possible reality of effect, and producing 
 the most perfect illusion in the spectator. Yet 
 this, it must be owned, is very obscurely expressed, 
 if it be expressed, by the Greek ; which, according 
 to the best reading, that of Victorius, and of many 
 MSS ^, will stand thus : xa* et*, J /x<x^ov /otf^^ mv 
 fAH(rix.f\v xai TUk o}i/i¥ £;^f», cTi' 1!? *AI 'HAONAI 2TNI2- 
 TANTAI Ivoc^yss-ocrx : that is, according to the only 
 sense which I can find for it — " and the decoration, 
 " or spectacle ; by means of which, the pleasures 
 " we receive from Tragedy *, are rendered more 
 
 " sensible, 
 
 * So the passage was understood by the editor of the 
 Ox. ed. without accents, 1760, who refers 3i' n$ to the 
 o+'f, and proposes this emendation: li ^{, (sell, o^zoiq) 
 TH2 'HAOMHS ffwirarrca TA iva^yz^ara — *^ per quam, 
 *' voluptatis pars evidentissima efficitur ; quippe quae ocuh's 
 " subjecta est fidelibus." But I cannot think that Avis 
 totle would have written, li 'HS, TH2 rjJbvus . 
 
 * See Mr. Winstanley*s edition. 
 
 * It is, certainly, most natural to understand the plea- 
 sures of the music and decoration to be here spoken of. 
 And so it is generally understood. But I cannot see how 
 the words will admit that sense: for the Greek docs not 
 say — '' by which the most sensible and striking pleasures are 
 produced,* but, '^ by which the pleasures (i.e. some other 
 *' pleasures,) are produced in the most sensible and 
 
 F F 3 '* striking 
 
43S NOTES. 
 
 " sensible, striking, illusive," &c. But many ob- 
 jections may, undoubtedly, be made. For the fair 
 and literal version would be this : " by means of 
 " uiiich, the pleasures Qrcfortnedy composed, con- 
 " structedy or constituted^ in the clearest and 
 *^ most visible manner." I give, here, what I ap- 
 prehend to be the only fair sense of the verb, 
 (rui/tra<r0fln ; but it seems to be, by no means, the 
 proper word in this place, and probably is not the 
 word which Aristotle wrote. If any one MS. 
 would offer me nAPtravT^et, I would readily accept 
 it. JElian, describing the effect of a trumpet, 
 sounding suddenly, at the instant when a fanjous 
 painting was exhibited, of a warrior in the act of 
 rushing to the battle, says — a/xa -rt uu to /x£A(^ 
 
 xoci fpxriuTnt ipXiTTsrOy ra /xiXaj ENAPFESTEPAN 
 Till/ ^avTao-iay t« Ix^on^ayT^* it* xa» fj.xXXov IIAPAS- 
 
 TH2ANT02 : L e. *' presenting to the imagination 
 
 " a still more lively and striking image *'." But 
 
 again — at iJJoyat, is not what one would expect 
 
 here. To speak, indeed, of terror and pity^ as 
 
 the pleasures of Tragedy, is perfectly agreeable, 
 
 both to the doctrine, and to the language, of the 
 
 a uthor, 
 
 *' striking way*^ — iva^craT*. To express the other sense, 
 Aristode would probably have written^ fysfysraTo* : — li hi 
 
 *■ Y\ci.'~corifiantur^^oagmentantur, And, indeed, in 
 tliis sense, and no other, is the verb (TvmadQai used 
 throughout the treatise. 
 
 « Vm}\ Hisi, II. 44. 
 
 
 NOTES. 439 
 
 author, throughout '*. But, it is not, properly, the 
 pleasure — it is not the terror, or the pity — that is 
 rendered more htt^Eg ; but thai pleasure is heigh- 
 tened by the action being rendered so. 
 
 Upon the whole, however, I see no other mean- 
 ing that can be obtained from the words, without 
 still greater violence and improbability of inter- 
 pretation. Dacier, Batteux, and Goulston, make 
 the assertion — a* ii^oi/a», &c. relate to both music 
 and decoration. But it is, surely, quite unwar- 
 rantable to give to — Jt' *HS, the sense of, J**' 'X2N, 
 or J'*' 'AIN. Besides that the 7nusic, however 
 great the pleasure it may afford, cannot, I think, pro- 
 perly be considered as contributing to the Ivoc^ysix, 
 or as heightening the illusion, of Tragedy. Vic- 
 torius, who read — tji^ /Aso-ixri' xat TA2 'O^EIS, 
 very consistently made nV refer to ja»(rtx»i only : and 
 Castelvetro very properly observes, that, ** if we 
 
 * read — tuv i^iv — le predette parole [i. e. J*»* r? ai 
 ' nVova*, K.T.aX.] havranno rispetto'^//« vista; e 
 
 * conteneranno la commendatione della detta 
 
 * vista, per la quale si constituisca il diletto piu 
 
 * manifest ainente — che non si fa per le parole deW 
 
 * epopea^ p. 690. He appears, I think, to have 
 understood the passage in the way I have j)ro- 
 posed. .But he mentions another reading, which 
 I have not seen noticed anywhere else — ivEp- 
 yi^oLTx *. This had occured to me, formerly, as a 
 
 conjecture,. 
 
 •* See NOTE 277. 
 
 * " Alcuni testi Icggono m^irarar - - - 
 
 F F4 
 
 I 
 
440 NOTES. 
 
 conjecture, before I had seen Castelvetro's com- 
 mentary. But it gives much the same sense, and 
 would remove no difficulty with respect to the 
 passage itself-, though, as I shall presently have 
 occasion to observe, it might suit better with what 
 follows. 
 
 NOTE 272. 
 
 p. 205. It has the advantage of 
 
 GREATER CLEARNESS A% WELL IN READ- 
 ING, AS IN REPRESENTATION. 
 
 It* tojv i^yuv, — It seems rather strange, that, im- 
 iiicdidtely after mentioning the cmpyi? of the 'OiJ/if, 
 Aristotle should say — ** Tlien, it has also the 
 si/a^yif," &c. It was this which induced me to 
 suspect, that for Evat^ytrdcra, in tlie preceding pas- 
 sage, we should read— i'vEp^^iraTa : " By means of 
 " which, [/. e. of the ovf/i?,] tlie pleasures we receive 
 " from Tragedy (those, of terror aiid pity excited 
 ** bif imitation, as he says cap. xiv *.] are rendered 
 ''move forcible and efficacious:' But the objec- 
 tion is, perhaps, not of sufficient force to warrant 
 a departure from tlie established reading of all the 
 manuscripts, ivoc^yi^drx : and we may, well enough, 
 understand tiie autlior, as if he had said — "Then, 
 '" farther, another advantage is, that Tragedy has 
 " this svccpyi;, not only on the stage, and on ac- 
 " count of the 'Oj/if, but even in readi/ig also." 
 
 That 
 
 * — TTjv aTTo ihiHi Kai (po^a Sia (jufAmiu^ 'HAONHN. 
 
 ^\ 
 
 NOTES. 44, 
 
 That olvayuua-n is right, (not dmyyta^Krn,) I 
 cannot entertain a doubt. Nothing can be more 
 evidently nonsensical than this distinction — " both 
 " in the discoveries, and in the incidents f as if 
 a discovery were not an incident. 
 
 The expression, iVi twv l^yuiv, for, in representa- 
 tion, acting, performance, &c. seems liable to no 
 difficulty. Thus, De Rep. VIII. p. 455, ^^Xoir 
 IX T«k EPrUN— from what happens in the per- 
 formance of such music \ And see ibid, cap, vi. 
 throughout which, l^yx is repeatedly used for 
 musical performance', particularly, p. 457, — t« 
 ^avfAacriot xat inpiTTa, TflN EPmN, " surprising 
 
 " and elaborate performance^* 
 
 NOTE 273. 
 
 P. 206. Attaining the end of its imi- 
 tation IN a shorter compass. 
 
 Dryden says of this passage—*' It is one reason 
 '* of Aristotle's, to prove that Tragedy is the more 
 " noble, because it turns in a shorter compass ; 
 " the whole action being circumscribed within 
 " the space ef four and twenty hours. He might 
 *' prove as well, that a mushroom is to be pre- 
 *' ferred before a peach, because it shoots up in 
 " the compass of a night." &c. 
 
 If Aristotle had said, that Tragedy was the 
 more noble, because a Poet could compose a 
 Tragedy in much less time that an Epic Poem, 
 
 the 
 ^ Sec Diss. n. vol.i. p. 80. 
 
44* NOTES. 
 
 the simile would have been justly applied. 
 Uryden had, but just before, said, that '^ the effects 
 ** of Tragedy are too violent to be lasting." But 
 lie did not give himself time to sec, that Tragedy 
 owes this greater violence of effect to the shortness 
 (rf its plan ; that is, to its stricter unity, its more 
 concentrated and unbroken interest^ its " close 
 accelerated plot*;" to that «9^oov, as Aristotle 
 calls it, so essential to tlie purpose of Tragedy, 
 which is, to give the pleasure of strong emotion. 
 The Epic Poem is of too tedious a length, too 
 various and episodic, to produce that effect in the 
 same degree as Tragedy, which is read, or seen, at 
 once, and without interruption. 
 
 But the case was, that Dryden, (who, as I have 
 before had occasion to remark ^ appears to have 
 taken his idea of Aristotle from French trans- 
 lation,) wrote this in the preface to his translation 
 of an Epic Poem " ; on the contrary, when he was 
 writing on Tragedy ^ he gave Tragedy the pre- 
 ference \ 
 
 NOTE 274. 
 
 P. 206. His Poem, if proportionably 
 
 CONTRACTED, WILL APPEAR CURTAILED. 
 
 — Mu«pov. — Notiiing is more diverting than the 
 
 explanation which some commentators give of this 
 
 word, 
 
 * Dr. Hurd's Disc, on Poet, Imit, p. 140. 
 
 * Vol. i. p. 281, note'^, • Preface to the Mneid, 
 
 ^ *' Though Tragedy he justly preferred above the 
 other" — i.e. the Epic Poem. Essay on Dram, Poesy, 
 
 ii 
 
 NOTES, .443 
 
 word, and its application here. The Poem, it 
 seems, is compared to the tail of a mouse, or a 
 rat, which grows less ami less toxvards the end:— 
 " versus cxtremum aitenuata *." I never heard, 
 that any naturalists have observed this property to 
 be peculiar to the tails of rats and mice. The 
 fiict seeuis to be, that the words /txua^ev, and /x£iHpoy, 
 however their etymologies may appear to differ, 
 have both the same meaning — that of cropped, 
 curtailed, tronque, as M. Batteux translates it. 
 
 [Hephd'st, p. 92, ed. De Pauu^l—lio which is 
 opposed, SoXi^oa^i^ — a long-tailed verse : xxto^ 
 
 TO TiA©J TrAfova^wv (tvXXoc^y}, 
 
 In tiie Rhetoric, Aristotle applies ft£»«p<^ to a 
 period that is too short, and disappomts the ear by 
 ending abruptly. The passage is curious for its 
 expression, and illustrates both the word itself, and 
 its application, here, to a Poem, which disappoints 
 the expectation of a reader in the same manner, 
 by ending before its time. Aa $1, %oli ret x«Aa, xai 
 rocq TT^pio^H;, f*.nri MEIOTPOT2 f Ii/at, /a»jt£ MAKPAS * 
 TO /A£v ytL^ MIKPON [i. e. /otftapov] Tr^ofnno^im iroX' 
 XxKii 7rot£t TQv dxpooiTriy dvxyKn yxp, Irxv, in opixcau 
 
 iTTl TO TTO^^W, xa* TO [XETpOV 8 l^H Iv laUTO) 0/>«, 
 
 ANTI2nA20Hi irocva-ocfxivn^ 'OION, JIPOSITTAIEIN 
 yiyi/fo-Gai, (Tta rnv ANTIKP0T2IN. Met. III. 9, 
 
 p. 592, ed. Duval. 
 
 * So Robortelli, Victorius, Goulston. — " Appaia una 
 " coda di topoj* Castelvctro. — " Venga ella a far' appa- 
 '^ rcntia di coda di sorcio, col suo fine angusto." Piccol. 
 
 •If!! 
 
444 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 275. 
 
 P. 206. If' extended to the usual 
 
 LENGTH. 
 
 AxoXahvroc tw t8 fjksr^s [xriKu — . Almost all the 
 commentators and translators understand — an- 
 swerable to the length of the rmtre. And this is, 
 certainly, the most obvious and unforced sense of 
 the words : for, had Aristotle meant, by /Afx^oy, 
 the standard measure^ or length, of the Poem, as 
 other commentators understmd it, he, probably, 
 would have rather said— TMTa MHKOTi: METPXli*. 
 lAirpQv is so used in the passage given in the last 
 note : to METPON i Ix" ^^^ '^^^'^^ k^- ^^^ however, 
 vietre be the sense, (for, after all, the passage is 
 ambiguous,) the expression must, I think, be un- 
 derstood as a short way of saying—" conform- 
 " able to the usual length of Poenis in that imtrt''' 
 
 of Poems in heroic verse. See what is said, 
 
 cap, xxiv. about the adaptation of the hexameter 
 to Epic Poetry : H<^it? MAKPAN o-urao-ii/ h aaAm 
 ^i7roi»ix£v ii Tw ^f«w. — I cannot conceive that 
 Aristotle meant to say, that the length of the 
 Epic Poem was proportioned, or ought to be pro- 
 portioned, to the length of the rmtre. Yet so 
 the commentators. "Si— Poeta secutus fuerit 
 " longitudinem, quae instar videtur ejus car- 
 " mimsr Vict. — " Si am rnttri longitudine prove- 
 " hatur.'' Goukt. &c. It was not the length of tlie 
 
 hexameter 
 » As^ fiivwj Of ^, cap. xxiv. and taf. vii. 
 
 NOTES. 445 
 
 hexameter which made it the fittest measure for 
 heroic Poetry, but tlie nature of ihefeet of which it 
 is composed ; and on that account it was preferred, 
 
 as roi^ifAUTaTov xa* oyxco^ifXToy rm [Atr^uv. cap. Xxiv. 
 
 The length of a verse is to be measured by the 
 times (xpcyoi) which compose it. Now the hexa- 
 meter is but one third longer than the Iambic 
 trimeter ; their respective times being 24, and 1 8 : 
 so that the length of an Epic Poem would be 
 strictly proportioned to the length of its vej^se — 
 TW TH fAiT^x ^9]x« — wcrc it lougcr by one third 
 only than a Tragedy. 
 
 NOTE 276. 
 
 P. 206. Diluted. 
 
 'r^ec^n—wateri/. Aristotle uses the same me- 
 taphor in the following passage of his second 
 book De Republicd, where, opposing, the commu- 
 nity of wives and children proposed by Plato *, 
 he very justly objects, that it would weaken the 
 bond of social union, by diluting the social affec- 
 tions, and destroying — 
 
 Relations dear, and all the charities 
 
 Of father, son, and brother . 
 
 Far, Lost, IV. 756. 
 
 — Ey CB Tin TToXei, miv C>IAIAN oivxyKouov 
 'TAAPH yivecQui, Six tiju KOivtavtotv Tf}v ToiocvTfjV, 
 
 KOLt 
 
 • Rep. V. 
 
446 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Kcci TKt^oc Xeysiv tov efiov , tj viov, TrocTB^otf ij 
 
 TTCCTUCCy VlOV, ilCTTTS^ yu^ fXlTC^OV yXvKVy 6tg TTOXV 
 
 vSuo jt^i^^gv, dvocKrQyjTov 'TTOiet t%v K^ot(TkVy urea 
 crvfifiaivei tcou rviv OixeiOTriTocy Tfjv Tr^oq aXXriXngf 
 Tiyy ccTTo Tuv cvofjiccruv TMTUiy — x.t.A. I s>top 
 there, because the passage is evidently defective, 
 though the sense is plain. 
 
 KOTE 277. 
 
 P. 207. AXD, ALSO, IN THE PECULIAR 
 END AT WHICH IT AIMS — . 
 
 Ka», It», t« m? -riyvt^ ^y^ — • The expression 
 is ambiguous. It may mean, either the end, or 
 business, of the Poetic art in general, or, that of 
 Tragedy— of the Trtf^/c «;•/ *. The latter, how- 
 ever, seems, pretty clearly, te be the meaning : for 
 his expression — tstok re iia^i^et 9rao-<, KAI ETI 
 ru Trig r£)(vni Ifyw — shews the author to be speak- 
 ing, here, of a distinct advantage. But, if we 
 understand it to mean, that Tragedy answers the 
 end of Poetry better than the Epic, this cannot 
 be considered as an advantage distinct from those 
 enumerated before, which are, plainly, such as 
 contribute to the general end of Poetry — that of 
 
 giving 
 
 ^ I I 1^ I. ■ III ■ 11 
 
 * He alludes here to Plato's expressions, who con- 
 tended, on the contrary, that the bond of social unity 
 roust be the closer, where all the citizens — a/ua ^Qeyyuvrat 
 
 * Ta TQidh pTifjLaja, i9 te EMON, uat to 'OTK EMON. 
 
 p 356, eJ, Mass, 
 
 * See NOTE 267. 
 
 NOTES. 447 
 
 giving pleasure— of interesting, delighting, strik- 
 ing, &c. Whereas, if the peculiar end of Tragedy 
 be superior to that of Epic Poetry, this, indeed, 
 is an additional and separate advantage. Besides 
 the parenthetical insertion which immediately 
 
 follows — hi TAP, i T^» Tu;^«(rj6k iS^ovny ttoihv icvroci 
 
 {i.e. the Epic and Tragic Poems,) dxxa. mv sl^n- 
 f*>my — plainly implies, that the rs^^vti; l^yov, of 
 which he had been speaking, was that of affordin<y 
 the particular pleasure j&roper to the species. And 
 thus, too, the word l^yov is used in other passat^es: 
 r^tKy(Ji»i i^yovy cap. vi. and cap. xiiL 
 
 Ihe words, fxocxxov m rsXisg Tvyvccviiirxj present 
 a similar, but more embarrassing, ambiguity. Is 
 T£A^, here, the end of Poetry, or the end of 
 Tragedy ? If we take it in the latter sense, Aris- 
 totle will say, that Tragedy is superior, both be- 
 cause its end — the peculiar effect w hich it purposes 
 to produce — is superior to that of the Epic Poem, 
 andy because it attains that end more perfectly 
 than the Epic attains its end. But this Aristotle 
 lias not proved, nor does it appear to be true. On 
 the other hand, if we understand rtx^ to mean 
 the end of the poetic art \ it is obviously true, 
 that, if Tragedy be superior in all those respects 
 which he had mentioned — in its closer unity, itij 
 brevity, its ha^ytix, its 7nusic, and its decorations — 
 ^ and, 
 
 * As it does in a similar expression, cap. xxv. which 
 favours the same sense here : '< « rvyxavoi t« rex*; ti 
 ivT»)f"-^/.f. of Poetry in general. 
 
 It 
 
 ^J 
 
448 NOTES. 
 
 and, besides J (xat it*) in the specific end at which 
 it aims — it must, on the whole, be preferable to 
 the Epic Poem, as answering more effectually the 
 end of Poetry, by giving greater pleasure. 
 
 For, that this, in Aristotle's view, was the great 
 end of the art, and of all its branches, appears, 
 if I mistake not, evidently, from many other pas- 
 sages of this treatise, as well as from that now 
 before us. Nor does he, any where, appear to 
 me to give any countenance to an idea, which 
 rational criticism has, now, pretty well exploded— 
 that utility and instruction are the end of Poetry. 
 That it may indeed be rendered, in some degree, 
 useful and improving, few will deny; none, that 
 it ought to be made so, if it can. But, that the 
 chief end and purpose of Poetry is to instruct — 
 that Homer wrote his Iliad on purpose to teach 
 mankind the mischiefs of discord among chiefs, 
 and his Odyssey, to prove to them the advantages 
 of staying at home and taking care of their fami- 
 lies' — this is so manifestly absurd, that one is 
 really astonished to see so many writers, one after 
 the other, discoursing gravely in defence of it **. j 
 
 • " La vcrite qui sert de fond a cette fiction, ct qui 
 " avec elle compose la Fable, est, Que l*absence d^une 
 " personne hor$ de chix sot, ou qui rCa point rail a ce qui 
 " ^*y f^i^y y ^^w^ de grands desordres" — And again— 
 ♦* Ces grands noms de Rois, de Heros, d'Achille, d'Aga- 
 <* meninon, & d'^Ulysse, nc designent pas moins ks 
 " dernters Bourgeois*'* 8ic. — Du Poeme Ep. I. lo. 
 
 ^ Piccolomini, in particular, p. 369, &c. of his Annot, 
 
 nella Poet. d*Jrist, Aud the reader may see, if he has 
 
 ^ any 
 
 NOTES. 449 
 
 It is true indeed, tliat Aristotle, in his account 
 of Tragedy, mentions the correction and refine- 
 ment of the passions, pity, terror, &c. as a useful 
 efcct of Tragic representations. But he no where, 
 either in his definition, where we might surely 
 have expected him to be explicit, or in any other 
 part of his book, calls that effect the end of Tm- 
 gedy. All his expressions prove, that A/^ end, 
 both of Tragic and of Epic Poetry, was pleasure ; 
 though, Mith respect to Tragedy, he asserts, (by 
 way, as I have before suggested, of obviating 
 Plato's objections to it^) that the pleasure arising 
 from it was so far from being pernicious, that it 
 was even useful ; so far from inflaming the pas- 
 sions of men, that it tended, on the contrary, to 
 purify and moderate them in common life. When 
 the reader sees the expressions, to which I allude, 
 laid together, he will hardly, I think, entertain any 
 doubt upon this head.— ra /ucyira, «»? ^TXArxiFEI ' 
 
 11 T^fli- 
 
 any stomach to see, the disgusting nonsense of Le Bossu 
 upoH this subject, cL ii. iii. iv. &c. of his first book. By 
 way of perfect contrast, he may then turn to the Disser- 
 tation on the Idea of Universal Poetry, [Dr. Kurd's Hor. 
 voLil'] See also Dr. Beattie's Essay on Poetry and Music ^ 
 ch. i.— .This absurd notion was also long ago combated 
 in a masterly manner by that fine and philosophical 
 writer, La Motte, in the discourse prefixed to his Odes, 
 
 • Note 45, p. 3. of this volume. 
 ' This looks much, as if he would have assented to 
 the rational assertion of Eratosthenes, which Strabo com- 
 voL. II. CG bats. 
 
 iH 
 
450 NOTES. 
 
 if T^ayw^i*, fAu9» fAt^n iV»»', &C. cap. vi. — in ^< »x * 
 avrn uiro T^ocyu^ia^ 'HAONH. cap, xiii. — a ya^ 
 irao-ak hi ^»iTnv 'HAONHN awo T^ayowiaf, akXa 
 THN 'OIKEIAN. Etij ^i mv aVo £A£8 xa* (poj3j«, hx 
 fAiju»i<r£&)?, ^f» 'HAONHN Ta^ao^tua^iiF roy trommP — 
 
 cap, Xiv. iV, UfTlFt^ ^WOV IV OAOV, TTOiW T»|k OIKEIAN 
 
 'HAONHN. cap, xxiii. — tuv ej'*", «^*' "'f AI 'HAONAI, 
 &C. cap, lilt, — ^«i yaf « TTiv Tu;^«rap 'HAONHN 
 »o*£iF ATTA2, aXAa mv it^ti/Ltivnv. zi/J. 
 
 From all this it appears, I tliink, indubitably, 
 tliat the great end of Poetry in general, was, in 
 Aristotle's opinion, to give pleasure ; as Castel- 
 t^etrOy long ago, rightly contended. ** Coloro, clie 
 " vo^^liono, che la poesia sia trovata principal- 
 " niente per giovare, o pergiovarc e per dilettare 
 ^^ insieme, veggano. che non soppongano all* 
 *< autoriti d'Aristotelc, il quale, qui ed altrove^ 
 ** non par che le assegni altro, che diktto ; e se 
 •* pure le concede alcuno giovaniento, glide concede 
 " per accidente ; come h la purgatione dello spa- 
 " vento e della compassione per mezzo della Tra- 
 
 ** gedla,"" p. 505- 
 
 The peculiar end of Tragedy, he has expressly 
 told us, is to afford that pleasure, which results 
 from fictitious terror and pity : mv aVo ixta xxi 
 fo(iH (?i« lAifxn^ri^f rlJo^Tiv.— Wliat he regarded as the 
 peculiar end of Epic Poetry, I observe that he 
 
 has 
 
 tats, — voivmv moetxa fnoxsi{i(j^ax iTXArnriAl, OT 
 AIAASKAAIAS. ^traho, p. 15. And see the Diss, on 
 tht Idea ofUn'tv, Poetry, above referred to. 
 
 NOTES. 451 
 
 has no where distinctly said. But from what he 
 has said, of the advantages which its plan affords, 
 with respect to grandeur, and variety, and the 
 admission of the wonderful and surprising*, and 
 also of the superior richness of its language ^, we 
 may collect, that his ideas on this subject accorded 
 with those of the best modem critics ; and that 
 he held the end of the Epic Poem to be, accord- 
 ing to the exact description of an eminent writer, 
 " admiration, produced by a grandeur of design, 
 ** and variety of important incidents, and sus- 
 " taincd by all the energy and minute particula- 
 •* rity of description *." 
 
 This end, however, and these peculiar advan- 
 tages, of the Epic plan, Aristotle has not, as I 
 have before remarked ^ brought forward, to com- 
 plete the comparison in this chapter; but he 
 plainly, and, I think, justly, considered tbem ^ 
 more tlian compensated by the closer interest, 
 more perfect illusion, stronger emotion, deeper 
 impression, and, in his view, more useful tendency, 
 of Tragedy. The Epic Poem loses in force of 
 effect, what it gains in variety; in nature and 
 passion, what it gains in grandeur and sublimity. 
 The \ery necessity, and the merit, of its variety, 
 
 and 
 
 « Cap.xxiy. — TransL PartlU. Sect. 2, 
 
 * Cap. xxii. ad fin. and cap, xxiv.— Aw koli yUnrai, &c, 
 Traml. vol i. p. 174, 175. and 180, 181. 
 
 * Dr. Hurd's Disc, on Poet. Imit. p. 141, 
 
 * Vol.i./). 58, 59, 
 
 G G 2 
 
 a « 
 
 tl 
 
4S» 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 and of the iTriKrohav dvofAOiei^ iwucoiioii \ are a 
 confession of its defects, as implyini:^ a too great 
 extent of plan, a feebleness of interest, a want of 
 relief. It seems, indeed, to be the great art of the 
 Epic Poet, to make us amends, by the striking 
 beauty of particular parts, for the fati^;ue and 
 ennui which unavoidably results, more or less, from 
 the 'wkolc. A strong proof of the superiority 
 of Tragedy, and of the justness of Aristotle's 
 decision, is, that every reader, is most delighted 
 witii the Episodes of Epic Poetry ; w ith those 
 subordinate and more compressed actions, which 
 give us the very pleasure of Iragaly — which 
 interest and afiect us by exciting 7>//j/ and terror: 
 with the meetiniT of Hector and Androujache, and 
 the supplication of Priam to Achilles for the body 
 of his son, in tlie Iliad ; with the love, despair, 
 and death, of Dido, the episode of Nisus and 
 Euryalus, and the parting scene between old 
 Evander and his son, in the iEneid ". 
 
 But though, of all ihe pleasures which Poctr}% 
 or Music, or Painting, can afibrd, the pleasure of 
 emotion deserves to be esteemed the greatest, yet 
 
 all 
 
 * Cap. xxiv. 
 
 « jEn, VIII. 557, &c.— particularly, from v. 572 to 
 584. I do not know any where a finer example of 
 natural pathos, heightened by the nicest selection of ex- 
 pression, and by such harmony of versification, as would 
 aln)ost make nonsense pass upon the understanding for 
 sense, through the recomraeudatioD, if I may be allov?cd 
 «ch an expression, of the car. 
 
 NOTES. 453 
 
 all those arts certainly afford considerable plea- 
 sures of other kinds ; and, perhaps, to do full 
 justice to the Epic Poem, we ought not to charac* 
 terizc it by any one particular and principal plea- 
 sure, but by that variety, which is peculiar to it, 
 and which comprehends, in some degree or other, 
 every sort of pleasure, that serious Poetry can 
 give". Whatever, therefore, may be decided 
 with respect to the comparative excellence of the 
 Poems themselves, we may safely perhaps assent 
 to the general decision of criticism, respecting the 
 comparative merits of the Poets, and allow, that 
 ** the first praise of genius is due to the writer of 
 " an Epic Poem ; as it requires an assemblage 
 " of all the powers which are singly sufficient for 
 " other compositions*.' 
 
 o » 
 
 ■ Some writers give still greater latitude to the variety 
 of Epic Poetry, And indeed, if what s/iouid, or may, be 
 done, is to be determined by what has been done by the 
 best Epic Poets — by Homer, Virgil, and Tasso,(for 
 Ariosto is a comic Poet,) it even admits, occasionally, of 
 some departure from rigid dignity, and of some approach, 
 at least, to the smile of Comedy, though not to the broad 
 laugh of Farce. See Lord Kaims, Elm. o/Giticism, 
 voL i. p. 289, and the treatise Ilfff '0/;*)j^» vomcrst^, p. 257, 
 ffol, V. of Eci. Horn, Ernest. 
 
 • Dr. Johnson's Life of Milton. 
 
 G G 3 
 
[ 454 1 
 
 ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Page 21, Noie^, It ought to have been mentioned, 
 that ihls book of the Odyssey was not translated by 
 Pope himself, but by Fenton. 
 
 P. 147. By Agatho.] Perhaps I ought rather to 
 have adhered to the old and best authenticated reading, 
 iiyaGav» Victorius found Ayo^v only in one MS. and 
 was induced to prefer it, principally because the other 
 reading could not well be reconciled with /its interpreta- 
 tion of the passage. He also objects, that the conjunction, 
 uai, in that reading, would have no meaning, '* cum csset, 
 <* ilh pactOy nihil quod copularet^ But ncu must then be 
 rendered eiiam, and, indeed, can be understood no other- 
 wise, if we read arioJ^Gv; and the sense will be — ** as 
 *' Achilles is made a good character even by Homer ;" 
 as if he had added — who has so well observed tlic o/twior, 
 the historical likeness, and has painted in so strong colours 
 the angry violence of his temper. This sense would be 
 siLfficienily expressed in my translation, by reading — 
 « as Achilles is drawn, even by Homer." 
 
 « 
 
 P. 187, Note 9. '' But that party* &c.] I found 
 reason to alter my opinion, and the note referred to, 
 after this note on the translation was printed. Dele, 
 therefore, '' But that part,'* 8wC. ti) ** Sect, 22," inclusively. 
 And read — See the NoTt. 
 
 P. 259. It escaped me, till that note was printed, 
 
 that ^lian also says, ** Dionysius tht Colophonian ;" it 
 
 5 must 
 
 ADDITIONS and CORRECTIOKS. 455 
 
 must therefore be allowed to be probable, that if Aristotle 
 and Plutarch speak of the same painter, so do also Aris- 
 totle and -^lian. The difficulty, however, pointed outt 
 of reconciling -Elian's account with that of Aristotle, 
 will still remain. 
 
 P. 294. Though I think it clear, that Stanley 
 misunderstood the passage of Aristotle, I confess it is by 
 no means clear, that he misunderstood that of Philos- 
 tratus. This, therefore, was too hastily advanced : for 
 though the general use of the adverb aTroTuhiv certainly 
 favours the sense in which I understood the passage, yet 
 I fear there is no good authority for the word %of ©-, used 
 as we use choruSy to signify the choral ode or song. It al- 
 ways, I believe, means the choral performers. The verb, 
 cuvirti^E, also contributed to mislead me, if I was misled ; 
 as it is more applicable to the contraction of prolixity, thaa 
 to the diminution of number. Yet it is used in the same 
 sense, and on the same subject, by Jul, Pollux, IV. 15, 
 od Jinem, 
 
 VOL. ir. 
 
 Page 83. See also the description, in the Trachinia 
 of Sophocles, of Hercules dashing out the brains of Lichas 
 against a rock, v. 779 — 782. 
 
 P. 98. ** Purple dresses;' ^cc] 
 
 'IMATU XPTXA DAPAZXaN Till XOPXli, p«x9- (po^tt. 
 Translated by Grotius, 
 
 . - - « Aut lectus scenae praebitor, 
 
 " Aureas gregi cum vestes dedcrit, fert centunculum." 
 
 jintiphanes, apud jit hen, p. loj- 
 Grotii Excerpta^ &c. p. 627. 
 
 P. 197, Note 135. The alteration, however, 
 from 0EATnv, to IIOIHtw, is rather violent ; and it is sug- 
 gested to me by Castlevetro's conjecture, that Aristotle 
 
 c G 4 might, 
 
45^ ADDITIONS and corrections. 
 
 might, pcrliaps, express the sense given by Dacier, without 
 using the word wwirrrpi, and that what he said might be 
 this: *' which escaped him \j,e, Carcinus] for want of 
 ** seeing the action^ as a spectator ^ — o fwi c(»<uvTa 112 [or 
 HSriEP] kam* [sc. ovra] haaOavvt, This is favoured by 
 the preceding expression, — ^"OPXIN, XI2IIEP ttol^ aun»i 
 yiyvofuv^ TOi( vrgarrofUfQii, 
 
 P. 224. " 9r«3iov — nevtr used hut to signify a 
 child."] — Unless irjreHo^irtxnf, as a term of endearment ; 
 as we often apply child to a grown person : a sense in 
 which it can hardly be used here. 
 
 P. 333, " One Tragedy at each different festival»*'\ 
 And thus, I find. Menage understood. " On ne reprc- 
 ** sentoit, chacun de ces jours-la, qu'unpoeme de chaqut 
 ' poett.^^ Pratique dc Theatre, par D'Aubignac, ii. f.48. 
 
 it 
 
 [ 457 3 
 
 REMARKS 
 
 UPON THE FIRST EDITION, 
 
 BY THE 
 
 TRANSLATOR, 
 
 ADDED TO 
 
 THIS EDITION. 
 
REMARKS. 
 
 459 
 
 DISSERTATION I. 
 
 REMARK I. 
 
 Vol. I. page 54. — The acknowledged supe- 
 riority OF Virgil in touches of this kind, 
 
 I should have noticed Lucretius, v. 1369 — 1377 ;— 
 
 Inque dies raagis in montem succedere sylvas 
 Cogebant, infraque locum concedcre cultis : 
 Prata, lacus, rivos, segetes, vinetaque laeta 
 Collibus, et campis ut haberent, atque olearum 
 Cserula distinguens inter plaga currcre posset 
 Per tumuloSy et convalles, camposque profusa : 
 Ut nunc esse vides vario distincta lepore 
 Omnia, quae pom is intersita dulcibus ornant, 
 Arbustisque tenent felicibus obsita circum. 
 
 — which is much more landscape-painting than any 
 other passage in the Latin poets, that I recollect. 
 
 DISSERTATION 
 
460 
 
 REMARKS. 
 
 DISSERTATION II. 
 
 REMARK 2» 
 
 Vol.L page 87. — Except the action (if the 
 
 EXPRESSION IS ALLOWABLE) OF SPEAKING. 
 
 '« Speaking is acting, both in philosophical strictness, and 
 as to all moral purposes," Paley's Prin. of Mor. Phil. 
 U. 286. 7*^ Ed. 
 
 REMARK 3. 
 Vol. I. p. 89, 90. note '. 
 
 See Scrre — Essais sur Ics Principcs de rHarmonic, 
 p. 46—47. *' On peut en consequence concevoir que 
 cet ancien genre pouvoit fournir a la melodic, surtout 
 a une mclodie recitante, des intervalles que leur extreme 
 petitesse rendoit tres-propres aux expressions de mollesse 
 et de langueur, aux expressions de sentimens qui suppo- 
 sent dans Tame, et en consequence dans Torgane vocale, 
 une sone d*incrtie, un penchant a ne former que les plus 
 petits intervalles melodiques, que Pharmonie, qu*une suc- 
 cession fondamentale tres-naturelle puisse suggerer." 
 
 His «' inertie" touches upon my solution of Dr. Beat- 
 tie's question, which I gave in a letter to my friend the 
 Rev. Mr. Elmsall: i.e. — a low-spirited man speaks ia 
 small intervals, and minor tliirds, and semitones, &c. for 
 the same reason as he takes short steps, and moves lan- 
 guidly, &c. 
 
 REMARKS. 
 
 461 
 
 TRANSLATION and NOTES. 
 
 REMARK 4. 
 
 Note 14. Vol. I. p. 264. — Mandrabulus, 
 
 " Nomen Comcediam potius quam Tragoediam 
 
 indicat." Mr. Tyrwhitt, p. 121. From MovS^^a, stabulum* 
 This argument from the derivation of the mme escaped 
 me. * ^ 
 
 REMARK 5. 
 
 'Note 15. ibid, — Hegemon — inventor of Pa- 
 rodies. 
 
 My Translation — inventor of parodies, wants either 
 alteration, or explanation, from Atlienseus. See Mr. 
 Tyrwhitt, p. 121. *' Qiiod Hegemo primus parodias 
 fccisse dicitur, nihil plus significat, quam eum hanc ludicrs 
 poeseos speciem primum secrsim excoluisse, et pro 
 acroamate in scena exhibuisse, &c.'* 
 
 remark 6. 
 Note 16. Vol.1, p. 266.— The Deliad. 
 See the excellent note of Mr. Tyrwhitt, pi 122. 
 
 REMARK 7. 
 
 Note 18. note S Vol. I. p. 275. 
 
 The observation of the Monthly Review, July 1 793, 
 p. 243, about the inconsistency of my remark and my 
 version, is fair, and must be noticed. 
 
 REMARK 
 
462 
 
 REMARKS. 
 
 REMARK 8. 
 
 < 
 
 Note 22. Vol. I. p. 281. — MavSavuv --to discover* 
 See Euiip. Phceniss. v. 48. and 50. — iofind out, 
 
 REMARK 9. 
 
 Jbid, note *. Vol.1, p. 280. — Miimffjuvof — and so Mr. 
 Tyrwhitt, p. 126. 
 
 REMARK 10. 
 
 Translation, Vol. I. p. no. — Homer alone — . 
 
 My version, here, does not say all that Aristotle says. 
 He says,~Homer was not only, the only good Epic poet, 
 but the only Epic Poet whose poetry was dramatic. 
 
 REMARK II. 
 
 Translation, ibid. — Once made their ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 See Mr. Tyrwhitt, p. 129. v. ffofa^avfiyuj. — This 
 agrees with my idea of the word. — Entrevoir, 
 
 REMARK 12. 
 
 Translation, Vol.1, p. 11 1. — iEscHYLus first 
 
 ADDED A SECOND ACTOR. 
 
 See Mr. Tyrwhitt, p. 131.. v. vttox^ituv — . 
 
 Hesychius says the saine, v. mox^nnny — f* ny ffxnvn 
 afroK^iVOfjuv^ — where Salmatius corrects, vTroxfivofxiv^ : 
 but, I believe, aTroH^ivofMev^ is right. He tliat answers 
 upon the stage. 
 
 REMARK 13. 
 
 Note 30. Vol. I. p. 294. — ^Eschylus — abridged 
 THE Choral part. 
 
 Mr. Tyrwhitt, p. 133, quotes Philostratus, and takes 
 XOfH^ for the odes themselves. Perhaps my pentimentOf 
 in the Addenda, was needless. 
 
 REMARKS. 
 
 463 
 
 REMARK 14. 
 
 Note 30. Vol. I. p. 294.—/ believe the passage may he 
 rectified by transposition, 
 
 I was not aware, that Dr.Bentley had so corrected this 
 passage in his Dissertation upon Phalaris, p. 263, 264. 
 
 REMARK 15. 
 
 Note 38. Vol. I. p. 320. — The ridiculous, &c. 
 
 I should have mentioned Plato De Rep. L. V. p. 330. 
 (Ed. Massey.) — where he says, nothing is ridiculous but 
 ■what is Hcatov. 
 
 See the excellent note of Mr. Tyrwhitt, 'H Iz xc^fjua^ia 
 fr<», p. 137. 
 
 # 
 
 REMARK 36. 
 
 Note 42. Vol. I. p. 337. — On the whole^ it seems not 
 improbable y &c. 
 
 I need not have altered Aw/uyjcr<f to /^ti.ttwo'iN. The phrase, 
 ^f%f I T» (TM/J^nx©- «v«i, escaped me. Mr. Tyrwhitt, p. 1 41 . 
 
 REMARK 17. 
 
 Note 44. Vol. H. p. l.^Pcrfectly to exclude the inac- 
 curacies^ &c. 
 
 '* Loquendi eadem quidem ratio veteri sevo frequen- 
 tata, ut sententia aliqua simul cum negatione contrarii 
 cfFeratur; quod vulgo, ut multa alia prisci sermonis sim- 
 plicitati et infantiae omnino communia, Orientis linguis 
 proprium esse putant." Heyne's Opusc. Acad. Vol. 2. 
 p. 106. note ^ 
 
 REMARK 18. 
 
 Note 45. Vol.11, p. 3. — Effecting, through 
 Pity and Terror, &c. 
 
 I should have observed, that in the expression— *a< 
 Tfltij TT^axTiXM;, Kou TMq tv^udiaTixai^^ — the former alludes to 
 the Tragic music, and the purgation of Terror and 
 Pity, Uc. ; and tJie latter— Evfisyianxaij — to sacred music. 
 
 REMARK 
 
464 
 
 REMARKS. 
 
 REMARK 19. 
 
 Note 46. Vol. II. p. 26, 27. — Not improperly compaud 
 to our recitative. 
 
 That the Music to which its Iambics were set, was a 
 kind of Recitative, is supported by a passage in the 
 treatise of Philodemus Tiz^i M8<r{«»ij, discovered in the 
 Ruins of Herculaneum, (printed at Naples 1 793) where 
 he speaks of that melody as — (lac^ov rn >a^a (7vv£yyi(on^» 
 Columna 29. p. 117. 
 
 REMARK 20. 
 
 Note 57. Vol. II. p. 39. — Ta mvra. 
 
 So iEschin. He^i HafcxTT^i^. p. 257. Taylor. 8vo. 
 i^ev ToJy mvrciiv eiTreiv, us ye olfiat, TrofeAiTov,— quae quasi 
 inhaerent ipsi rei. Vict. 
 
 Mr. Tyrwhitt's remark, that Aristotle is speaking of 
 the Sentiments, not of the Diction or Language, is im- 
 portant, p. 145, Oi (xtv a^^ffiUQi, 
 
 REMARK 21. 
 
 Note 127. Vol.11, p. 181. — The discovery by 
 
 THE SOUND or THE SHUTTLE. 
 
 Mr. Tyrwhitt understands by xt^ui;^ the web, telam. 
 But the many passages about the musicality of the Kt^uLi — 
 (shuttle) seem to be strong against Mr. T. and in favour 
 of my conjecture. 
 
 See Epigram of Antip. Sidon. Brunck's Aristoph. 
 Vol. 3. p. 141. 
 
 REMARK 22. 
 
 Note 138. Vol. II. p. 207. — Plato says of a dog, &c. 
 
 And Theocritus, EiJ. xt. v. 80 — 82. 
 
 E/ 01 xaa (p^E^.sg uh voi^/icvig iv3b6r; riaav 
 *HiJ« ^' uri x^ X^^^MVtfASVy tiTi xai ««, 
 Oint ca rot Bti^m tij ih^i^iv m^t Ti/»I^ 
 
 REMARKS. 
 
 465 
 
 REMARK 23. 
 
 Translation, Vol.1, p. 154. — Tossed by manv 
 tempests. 
 
 XsifjLCKrOag, long-tossed, weather-beaten^^, 
 
 multum ille et terris jactatus et alto. iEn. i . 3. 
 
 ^^and, perhaps, 
 
 Hox^ ^* hy Ev TTOVTU ^a$£v oCKyta — Od. A. 4. 
 
 remark 24. 
 
 Note 149. Vol. II. p. 223. — The Lynceus of 
 Theodectes. 
 
 Well observed by Mr. Tyrwhitt, p. 151, about Abas 
 (the vou^m) — and Hyginus, fab. 170 and 273. 
 
 REMARK 25. 
 
 Note 153. note \ Vol. II. p. 237. — J few ideas, even 
 roughly thrown out ^ from an artist of genius, 
 
 •' The knowledge which an artist has of his subject 
 will more than compensate for any want of elegance in 
 the manner of treating it, or even of perspicuity, 
 which is more essential ; and I am convinced, that one 
 short essay, written by a Painter, will contribute more to 
 advance the Theory of our Art, than a thousand volumes 
 such as we sometimes see ; the purpose of which appears 
 to be rather to display the refinement of the author's own 
 conceptions of impossible practice, than to convey useful 
 knowledge or instruction of any kind whatever." Sir 
 Jos. Reynolds's Disc. 15. Vol. II. p. 186. 
 
 REMARK 26. 
 
 Note 183. note ^ Vol, II. p. 283. 
 
 See Malone's Drydcn, Vol. III. p. 411. He uses 
 this metaphor, probably without thinking of Homer. 
 " His succeeding years afford him little more than the 
 stubble of his own harvest." 
 
 VOL. II, H H REMARK 
 
466 
 
 REMARKS. 
 
 REMARK 27. 
 
 Note 214. Vol. II. p. 330. — Homer gave bot» 
 
 THE FIRST, Sec. 
 
 Sir Jos. Reynolds savs of Titian—" He was the first 
 and the greatest master of this art." Vol. II. p. 50. 
 
 See Parkhurst's Gr. Lex. a^yv^>a Uava — large money. 
 Matt, xxviii. 12. — ox>^ *'««v» — a great number o! 
 people. Mark x. 46. 
 
 REMARK 28. 
 
 Note 216. Vol. II. p. 341 — For, in this respect 
 ALSO, the narrati-ve imitation is abundant, 
 
 AND various, beyond THE REST. 
 
 Mr. Tyrwhitt has given a good explanation of Trs^nm, 
 p. 194. ** H«cc vox non semper in malam partem acci- 
 pitur ; saepc autem earn ornatus abundantiam denotat, 
 quae citra vitium summa est." But he docs not account 
 for the KAi in his mode of explainins;. His note docs 
 not satisty me tliat ;'I1 is right. — I liiink this one of nay 
 best conjectural corrections. 
 
 remark 29. 
 
 Note 220. Vol. II. p. 344. — But Epic Poetry 
 
 admits even the improbable and incredi- 
 ble, 6cc. 
 
 This passage nozv seems plain enough. " In Tragedy 
 the wonderful should be produced ; but Epic admits 
 better of tiie improbahle (by whicli the wonderful is 
 chiefly effected,) because there, vi^e do not see the action." 
 
 Mr. Tyrwhitt*s version seems right. " Ac in tra- 
 
 goediis quidem, id quod admirabile est, effingere oportet : 
 
 sed in epoposia magis licet id, quod praeter rationem est, 
 
 ^ per quod maxime conlingit ipsum admirabile, quia non 
 
 intiiemur agentem." p. 92. 
 
 i 
 
 REMARK 
 
 467 
 
 REMARK 30. 
 
 Translation, Vol.1, p. iSj.-^In the Mysians, 
 
 THE MAN WHO TRAVELS FROM TeGEA TO MysIA 
 
 Without speaking. 
 
 For the discovery of the subject of this Tragedy, and 
 of the cause of the silence here censured, we>are indebted 
 to the very curious and masterly note of Mr. Tyrwhitt.— 
 " Telephum igitur avunculos suos apud Tegeam occidisso 
 fortasse finxcrat poeta, et illinc mutum in Mysiam rediisse. 
 Mos scilicet erat cxdis alicujus reum mutum restare, donee 
 sacris quibusdam expiatoriis lustraretur." See the wholt 
 note, p. 195, 197. 
 
 REMARK 31. 
 
 Note 224. Vol.11, p. 355. — The absurdity is 
 concealed under the various beauties, &c. 
 
 'EyO) JiE ^X£OV iXTTOfJUXl 
 
 Aoyov *0^u(r(rsof, h Tra^sv, 
 
 Aia Tov a^uETTn ytvfcrS* '0//>jfov. 
 
 'EcTfi ^ETAEESSIN 01 Trcravx ye fxaxavot 
 Sf/Ai'ov ETTen rt ' aofpia h 
 
 KAEFITEI TTot^ayoia-a fjLudoii, Find. Nem. Z. 
 
 V. 29—34. 
 
 REMARK 32. 
 
 Note 238. Vol.11, p. 382. — But, as Xenophanes 
 
 SAYS, &c. 
 
 -— aXA* OTN ^auTi raJf, I am now clear that this 
 emendation, proposed by Mr. Tyrwhitt, is solid. I had 
 made it myself in MS. 
 
 REMARK 33. 
 
 Note 241. Vol. II. p. 386. — When on the 
 Trojan plain, &c, 
 
 Mr. Tyrwhitt seems quite right In his conjecture that 
 all the passages were from 11. K. — I think the objection, 
 
 h h 2 clearly, 
 
468 
 
 REMARKS. 
 
 clearly, was to the contradiction of saying, that all Cods 
 and men were asleep, and at the same time, tl'.nt Agamem- 
 non heard the noise of fifes, &c. — and saw the fii es, &c. 
 
 This explanation' gets rid of the solution of aO^a-ut^ 
 as mental vision, and also removes all difficulty about 
 S/ua^ov, and the supposed objection to that line, considered 
 as a separate difficulty. 
 
 I must take the words — a(Ma h '^aiv — into my version. 
 His other conjecture, Travrs^ o/*«, is less probable. 
 
 REMARK 34. 
 
 Note 242. Vol. II. p. 392. — 0/xa3bf seems to ht 
 constantly used by Homer in the secondary sense. 
 But see II. H. 307. and O. 689. 
 
 REMARK 35. 
 
 Note 245. Vol.11, p. 394.— To ixtv OT xara'jrvkjai 
 
 Alex. Aphrod. quoted by Mr. Tyrwhitt, p. 107, (and, 
 in Latin, by Beni,) makes the absurdity of 5 (where 
 rotted) to be, — that part of the same post should be retted, 
 and part sound. 
 
 The difficulty about accents (ibid.), and the passage of 
 Sophocles Elench. are curious. 
 
 REMARK 36. 
 
 Note 269. Vol. II. p. 431. — And in singing — * 
 
 I was wrong in saying that singing out of tune y was 
 the only warranted sense of JwJkiv. See Mr. Tyrwhitt on 
 this passage. Also Theoc. EiJ. 5. 22 ; and Valckenaer*$ 
 note on E*^, 6. 15. But my conjecture is still good, I 
 think. 
 
 INDEX 
 
 { 4^9 ] 
 
 INDEX L 
 
 OF POETS, CRITICS, PHILOSOPHERS, &c. 
 
 MENTIONED BY ARISTOTLE. 
 
 A. 
 
 iEscHYLUs - - Vol.i. page 111. 157. 172. 
 
 ^^;^^"^ >• 128. 147. 158, 159-— A Tragic Poet, 
 
 the contemporary of Socrates, Euripides, &c. A few 
 fragments only of his w«rks remain, which confirm the 
 account given by antient writers of his style ; that it 
 abounded with ornamental refinements, and 'particularly 
 with antitjmcs. [See Mlian, V, H. XIV. 13. and AristopL 
 Ihcsmoph. V. 58, &c. and Kuster's note.] The followino 
 lines may aftbrd a pretty good specimen of his turn, both 
 of writing and thinking : 
 
 Tix^n Tvxxv in^ih ««» rv^n rtxwy. 
 
 Arist. Ethic, Nic, vi. 5, 
 To fxtt vot^e^ovy l^yov «?, vomfxtQu, 
 To & tpyotj ug ira^i^yov, ixTrovHiJii^a., 
 
 Athcn, V. init. 
 See also note 156. (vol. ii. p. 24a.)— Grotii Excerpta 
 tx Irag. &ic. p. 437. Bayle, Art. Agathox. And Syden- 
 ham s translation of the Sy/^s-ocrtoi* of Plato, (The Ban- 
 quety) p. 9, 10. 122, note 96. 
 
 Ariphrades- - - -i. 173. He is known only by the 
 wretched piece of prosaic criticism there mentioned. 
 
 ARisTornAXEs 
 
 i. 106 
 
 Astydamas i. 141. There were two Tragic Poets 
 
 of this name, father and son. The former is said to 
 have written not fewer than 240 Tragedies. Suidas .-—who 
 Las also recorded his vanity, art. Xuvmr ivoumf, 
 
 * 
 
 C. 
 
 Callippides i. 204. A famous Traeic actor. Sec 
 
 Plutarch, Apophthegm, Lacon. p. 376, ed.^H. St. From 
 the story there told, it seems probable enough, though, 
 I think, by no means certain, that the proverbial expres- 
 »ion, Tf«yu^ Wi^K^j (iV» TU9 9ra^' «{»«» 2EMNTNOME- 
 
 « " 3 Nn>f, 
 
470 
 
 INDEX I. 
 
 NflN, Suid. avd Hesijch.) fnight, as it lias been supposed? 
 have originally alluded to the vanity of this actor, in the 
 Symposium ot" Xenophon, when the buffoon, Philip, is 
 asked — £w» Tw ytXairairoiiii fAtyac, ^^ohk > — be answers, 
 tiixocioTs^ov y'^blofjisn, n KAAAIIirJIAHI^ o t-wox^tr*)?, oq TFIEP- 
 ZEMNYNETAI ot» ^jj»urxi TroXXw; xXowoyTa^- xa0»fu». p. 880, ed. 
 Jjcunclaxii. — Jt seems much more doubtful, whether the 
 passages referred to by Ducier, in Suetonius, Tibtr. cap. 38. 
 and Cic. ad Attic, lib, xiii, ep, 12, have the same allusion. 
 
 Carcinus - - Vol. i. page 148. 151. Of this Tragic Poet 
 only a few trifling lines are preserved. What Suidas says of 
 him gives us no very high idea of his genius ; viz. that, 
 of 160 Tragedies which he composed, one only obtained 
 the prize in the dramatic contests. 
 
 Cn.f.REMON - - - - i. 104. 181. — See note 11. (vol. i. 
 p. 254.) For the passage there mentioned, and other 
 fragments, the reader may also see Grotii Excerpt a , p. 845, 
 and Sir William Jones's Poes. Asiat. Comment, p. 408. 
 
 CiiiONiDEs i. 107. One of the earliest and most 
 
 eminent Athenian Poets of the old Corned}'. Suidas. 
 
 Clf.ophon ----- i. 105. 170. See note 14. (vol. i. 
 p. 263.) 
 
 Crates — i. 114. He is said to have flourished 
 
 about 12 or 15 years before Aristophanes; of course, in 
 the time of the old Comedy. f 
 
 D. 
 
 Dic-EOGENES i. 149. Tragic and Dithyrambic Poet. 
 
 Suid. 
 
 DioNYSius i. 105. See note 12. (vol. i. p. 257.) 
 
 and the additions and corrections (vol. ii. p. 454.) 
 
 E. 
 
 Kmpedocles - - - - i. 103. 167, 196. The Sicilian Poet- 
 philosopher, contemporary with Sophocles. See notes 8 
 luid 9 (vol. i. p. 248, and 249) and p. \g6f note 4. He is 
 often quoted by Aristotle, and many fragments of his 
 . Poetry are preserved in various antient authors. See Diog. 
 La/rt. in vttd : the Poesis Philosophica of H. Stephens, &c. 
 
 Epiciiarmvs- - - - i. 107. 114. — of Syracuse, a philoso' 
 pJiical and a comic Poet. The names of 40 of his Comedies 
 are recorded, and a considerable number of fragments from 
 them, and some from his philosophical poetry, are extant. 
 Se« Grotii Exccrpta, cind the Poes, Philos, of H. Stephens. 
 
 5 Euclid, 
 
 INDEX I. 
 
 471 
 
 Euclid - — ■• Vol. i. psige 171. Of what Euclid Aristotle 
 speaks, it seems impobuible to .iscertain. Victorias says, 
 he is here called the old Euclid^ to distinguish him from 
 Euclid the philosopher, the disciple of Soc rates, and foun- 
 der of thft Megaric sect. [Diog. Laert in litd.] But as ;hat 
 Euclid flourished, according to the common account, about 
 60 years before Aristotle, he might well enough be called 
 Q i^x^^^f ^'^^^ there is certainly no improuHbiUty in sup- 
 posing a cavillin;.; logician to have been also a cavilling 
 critic. See Diog. Laert. and Bayle, art. Euclide. 
 
 Euripides - - - i. 137. 140. 150. 153. 172. 191. 201. 
 
 G. 
 
 Glauco ------ i. 199. Whether this was Glauco the 
 
 Teian mentioned by Aristotle, Rhet. HI. i, as Dacier 
 asserts after Uobortelli, is very uncertain. — I know not 
 why Goulston, in his version, calls him *• Glauco Sophista." 
 
 H. 
 
 Hegemon - i. 105. See note 15. (vol. i. p. 264.) 
 
 Herodotus - - -.- - - - i. 127 
 
 H I ppi AS, of T^a«05 - i. 196. — known, I believe, only from 
 this mention of him. 
 
 Homer ^- i. 103. 105, 106. 109. 125. 147. 171. 
 
 177- ^79- 182, 183. 186. 
 
 Magnes i. 107. An Athenian Poet of the old 
 
 Comedy. Suidas. 
 
 Mnasitiieus i. 204. — of whom nothing more is 
 
 known. 
 
 Myniscus — - — i. 204. I do not know that he is any 
 where else mentioned, except by Athenaeus, who calls him 
 *' the Tragic actor, Mi/niscusy' and gives him an honour- 
 able place in his Memoirs of Gluttony, lib. viii. p. 344, 
 
 N. 
 
 Nicocharis (or Nicochares) i. 106. In note 16. (vol. i. 
 p. 266), I have, with Dacier and others, supposed him to 
 be the Athenian Comic Poet, contemporary with Aristo- 
 phanes. [Suidas.] But this seems doubtful. Victorius 
 thinks, with some reason, that Aristotle added, • t»j» 
 ^)}^lal«, in order to distinguish him from that Voat. And, 
 farther, he is here instancing in narrative or Epic Poetry, 
 and the Dcliad was certamly a poem of that kmd. But no 
 such Poem is attributed to Nicochares the Comic Poet. 
 
 H n 4 Pauson, 
 
47^ 
 
 INDEX L 
 
 Pausoy - - - - Vol. i. page 105. See note 12. (vol. L 
 P- 255. 257- '260). 
 
 PiiiLoxENUs - - • - i. 106.— of Cythera, contemporary with 
 Plato ; a Tragic and Dithyranibi^ P(k>i, famous for hit 
 musical innovations, his jokes, and his gluttony. See 
 Dr. Burney's Hist, of Music, vol. i. ;;. 418, &,c.—Metn. de 
 tAaul des Inscrip. 'tome xix. p. 315, otYaro.— But there 
 v/ere several persons of the same name, and, unfortunately, 
 of similar character, who appear to have been confounded 
 with each other, even by antient writers themselves. Se« 
 Perizonius, JElian. V. Hist. X. 9. 
 
 Phormis [Piiqrmos, Athen. and Said.] i. 114. A Sicilian 
 Comic Poet contemporary with Epicharmus. 
 
 Polygxotus- - - - i. 105. 119. — See note 12. (vol. i. 
 p. o55.)_piiny, N. Hist. )ib. xxxv. cap. 9.— .^lian, 
 F. Hist. IV. 3. where Perizonius points out, as some illus- 
 tration of the passage of Aristotle, cited note 12. vol. i. 
 P- 255, a picture of this painter, mentioned by Pausanias, 
 On PhocicisJ which represented the punishment of an 
 undutiful son in the infernal regions. 
 
 PoLYiDEs, Me.So/?Awf, i. 150. 153.— does not occur, that I 
 know of, any where else. The title of Sophist seejms suf- 
 ficiently to distinguish him, if the name does not, (for in 
 some MSS. it is n«AunJoL,) from Polyidus the Dithyrambic 
 Poet, Musician, and Painter, mentioned by Diodur.Siculus, 
 [lib. xiv.] and Efj/moL Mag. voce AtX«k. 
 
 Protagoras - - - - i. 161. See note 165. (vol. ii. p. 256.) 
 
 S. 
 
 Sophocles- - - - - i. 106. 112. 141. 146. 149. 151. 158. 
 191. 206. 
 
 SopHRON, i. 103. This famous Sicilian Poet was 
 
 contemporary with Euripides. He wrote Mimes, some for 
 male, and others for female characters, in the Doric dia- 
 lect. Some very obscure fragments are preserved by De- 
 metrius, Athenaeus, &c. See note 6. (vol.i. p. 244 to'247). 
 
 Sosistratus - - - - i. 204. A rhapsodist. 
 
 Sthenelus - - - - i. 170. See note 194. (vol. ii. p. 301.) 
 He is mentioned, I believe, only by Aristotle, and by 
 Harpocration, who records liim as a Tragic Poet of the 
 age of Pericles, and says^, that he was accused of plagia- 
 jism. 
 
 Theopectes, 
 
 INDEX I. 
 
 473 
 
 T. 
 
 Tiieodectes -- Vol. i. page 150. 154. A Rhetorician, of 
 Phaselis in Lycia; the scholar of Plato and Isocrates. He is 
 said to have composed 50 Tragedies, and an Art of Rhetoric 
 in verse. He is frequently mentioned by Aristotle, Dion. 
 Halicarn. Quintilian, &c. His fellow citizens erected a 
 statue to his memory. See Pint, in vitd Alexandria p. 1236, 
 ed. H. S. Only a few trifling fragments of his works 
 remain. 
 
 Timotheus - - - - i. 106. See note 17. (vol. i. p. 267.) 
 The famous Poet-musician of Miletus, contemporary with 
 Euripides. He was banished by the Spartans for im- 
 proving a musical instrument by the addition of a few 
 strings, which they called ''dishonouring the antient Music" 
 and " corrupting the cars of youth ;" — Xy^«t»jTat ra? 
 axoa? ru9 nut. The words of this curious decree are pre- 
 served by lioethius. See Casaub. in Athen, p. 613, or 
 page 66, 67, of the Oic. ed. of Aratus. The reader will find 
 a full and entertnining account of Timotheus in Dr. Burney's 
 Hist, of Music, vol.i. p, 405. 
 
 Tyndarus [al. Pindarus] i. 204. — An Actor, clearly; but 
 we know nothing farther. 
 
 X. 
 
 Xenarchus - - - - i. 103. A Comic Poet, of whom the 
 reader may see a pleasant fragment in Athen. p. 225, de- 
 scribing a curious trick practised by the Athenian fish- 
 mongers to evade the law by which they were forbid to 
 pour water upon their stale fish in order to make them 
 appear fresh. See Grotii Excerpta ex Trag. &c. p. 697. 
 
 Xenophanes i. 101. The Colophonian, eminent in 
 
 the class of philosophical Poets, or, rather, poetical philo- 
 sophers, about the time of Pythagoras. See note 238. 
 (vol. ii. p. 382.)— Diog. Laert. IX. 18.— Bayle, art. Xeno- 
 phanes. 
 
 Z. 
 
 Zkuxis i. 119. 200. The famous painter. Set 
 
 the note p. aoo, and note 254. (vol. ii. p. 405). 
 
 INDEX 
 
[ 474 ] 
 
 I N D E X II. 
 
 TO THE DISSERTATIONS AND NOTES. 
 
 A. 
 
 Accents, no term applied to them by Aristotle but acute, 
 and^rare vol. ii. page 261 
 
 Achilles, how characterized by Euripides, ii. 167.— by 
 Homer, 168.— by Plato, 169.— by Dr. Jortin - - ibid. 
 
 Acts, five - - no such division applicable to the Greek 
 drama - - j] ^^ 
 
 Actors, Greek, played female parts, i. 205, w. ii. 434— 
 contended for the prize in the dramatic contests, ii. 68, 6g, 
 
 —their influence over the Poets, 69 their dress and 
 
 ^g"^^ 340, and n. 
 
 Actresses, not admitted on the Greek stage, i. 63, n. 205, n. 
 
 -A^"*/*** - - ii. 366, n. 
 
 Aiixuf, AitxeAi'^ - - - - - ii. 318, 319 
 
 /Elian, of descriptive imitation, i. 14, n. 54. — his account 
 
 of the paintings of Dionysius mistaken by Dacier, 257. 
 
 of the infant sUte of pamting, 285, «.— quoted - ii. 438 
 
 iEsCHYLUs, not said by Aristotle to have diminished the 
 number of choral performers, i. 294— curious account of 
 his stage-improvements, 298.— his chorus of 50 furies, 
 ii. 119.— his Ocean riding on a Griifm, 120.— his Prome- 
 theus, 211.— an expression of his illustrated, 290. — his 
 diction ^^. 
 
 Agatho, a fragment of - - - - . jj^ 242 
 
 Aii^X^Qv, its wide signification - - - - i. 321 
 
 A>x»»tf uirohoy<^, to what books of the Odyssey that title 
 
 - - ' - - ii. 184— -186 
 
 extended - 
 Aft»^T»a, 'AfAu^nfjLocTa 
 A/A^»/3oX»«, Aristotle's sense of 
 A/a^tfA«», Dithyrambic — what 
 
 ii. 108, 109 
 
 ii-397 
 i. 272 
 
 A*«Aoy»«, 
 
 INDEX II. 475 
 
 AtaXcyxUf Aristotle's definition of - - - ii. 283, n, 
 
 Antients, not to be read with modern ideas - • i. 224 
 
 Arrnt^y, whether used by Aristotle to denote opposition of 
 meaning - ii. ^03 
 
 Avt^yaartoi .- i. 288 
 
 A9rowAa? - - - - - - _ ii. 161 
 
 Awo crxr»)jf, ot, or T« - - - - - ii, 100 
 
 Architecture, absurdity of classing it with the imitative 
 arts - - - - - - . - i. 92, «. 
 
 AfX»T«xTonx») ---->_- ii. 055 
 
 A^ya fjLtfn - . - - . i. 186, w. ii. 356 
 
 Ariosto, unity of his Poem, of what kind, i. i26,n. 178, n, 
 — ^tv^rj Xiyn &»? dtt - • - - . ii, o c § 
 
 Aristjdes Quintiliaxus, his account of the Greek 
 *A^fjkouai, i. 80, «. — confirms a reading of Aristotle, ii. 260. 
 -^quoted, i. 228, n. — illustrates Aristotle - ii. 253, 254 
 
 Aristophanes, i. 301, w.— (or Antiphanes) a fragment of, 
 ii. 42.— ridicules the prolixity of the Tragic chorus, i. 295. 
 — a fragment of, explained by a passage of Aristotle, 
 
 ii. 302, 303 
 
 Aristotle, has no where said that all Poetry is imi- 
 tation, i. 35, n. — in what senses he considered Poetry as 
 imitation, 36, 37. 58.— takes no notice either of sonorous 
 or descriptive imitation, and why, 39, 40. 54, 55. — infe- 
 riority of that part of his work, which treats of diction, 55. 
 ii. 257, 258. — how far he would have allowed an Epic 
 imitation in prose to be a Poem, i. 232. ii. 61.— by no 
 means excluded verse from his idea of Poetry, i. 236. 289. 
 —his preference i)i Dramatic Poetry, i. 58, 59. ii. 449. 
 451.— has not fully stated the comparative merits of Dra- 
 matic and Epic Poetry, i. 59, and w.— held pleasure to be 
 the chief end of Poetry, ii. 448, 449.— his doctrine of the 
 purgation of the passions by Tragedy, an answer to the 
 objections of Vlat^, ii. 14. 16*.— his advice to the Tragic 
 Poet, to assist his imagination by action, in composing, 
 considered, ii. 198.— scope of his chapter on Critical 
 Objections, &c. i. 188, w.— free from an error common to 
 philosophical critics, ii. 56.— his style often elliptic, paren- 
 thetical, and embarrassed, i. 218. .179. ii. 58, 59. 157. 227, 
 
 and «. 237. 272. does not assert, in general, that 
 
 Music is an imitative art, i. 91.— his account of mtsical 
 imitation, i. 69, 70.— what he understood by the resem- 
 blance of melody and rhythm to manners, or tempers, 
 i. 79—87. — a musical problem of his corrected, trans- 
 lated, 
 
47<5 
 
 INDEX ir. 
 
 lated, and examined, i. 82 — 87. — his rhetoric quoted^ 
 i. 239. 329, and n. ii. 33. 69. 82. 106. 124, 125. 164, n. 
 166. 184. 198. 201. 210, n. — (of the Ethic and Pathetic 
 Tragedy) 231, 232, n. 281. 284. 286. — (of the language 
 of passion) 358, 359. 314. 316. 321. 410.— (of the dis- 
 appointment of the ear by the abrupt conclusion of a 
 period) 443. — explained, i. 272. ii. 263. — translated, i. 280. 
 286, 287. ii. 297. 326, 327. 352.— his Ethics quoted, 
 i. 278. ii. 48. 61. 68. So. 97. 107, 108.283,^.430. — 
 his PoLiT. i. 70. 79. 81. 225, n. 255. ii. 5—9.62. 422. 
 441. 445. — METAPHTfs. i. 289. ii. 55. 81. — De Soph. 
 Elench. i. 264. ii. 262. 393. — Topic, ii. 59. 268. 291. 
 372. 402. — De Interpret, ii. 272 — 275. 408. — De 
 WuNDo, 431. — De Hist. Animal, ii. 137. — Problems, 
 i. 82. 269. 271. 283. 294. li. 100. 244. 343 
 
 Aristoxenus, of the melody of speech, i. 77, n. — of the 
 effect of passion upon it, 78, n. — of the essential difference 
 between singing and speaking - - ibid, ii. 92, tu 
 
 A^fjLotia, melody^ not harmony ^ i. 314, n. — A$xt»x») - 314 
 
 A^f*o»ta», or Melodies, of the Greeks, not the same with 
 their Toi»o», or Modes - - - - i. 80, n. 
 
 Athenians, their immoderate fondness for dramatic exhi- 
 bitions ii. 53, 54. 339 
 
 Audience, Athenian— eat and drank during the perform- 
 ance - ii. 339, 340 
 
 AuLLi Gellius, his story oiFolus the Tragic actor, ii.434 
 
 B. 
 
 Bach, C. P. Eman. his choral recitative - ii. 89, n. 
 
 Bacon, Lord ------- ii. 34 
 
 Batteux, his explanation of Dithyrambic imitation, i. 212, 
 213. — of Aristotle*s dramatic xaGa^fl-*; 
 
 ii. 11 — 16 
 
 Beattie, Dr. his mistake with respect to a passage of 
 Rousseau, i. 7, n. — his Minstrel, 18. — of the relation 
 between musical sounds and mental affections, 71, n. — his 
 objections to the principle of resemblance to pathetic 
 speech in pathetic music, considered, 88, n. — on the power 
 of association in music, 90, n, 225, n. — of the difference 
 between moral and poetical perfection, 105, n. — his ac- 
 count of a passage of Plato, 240, n. — his explanation of 
 Aristotle's account of the ridiculous, 323. — his just ana- 
 lysis of the character of Homer's Achilles, ii. 170. — on 
 the language of Tragedy - - - - 324 
 
 Beauty, 
 
 INDEX II. 477 
 
 Beauty, size and strength essential to it, according to the 
 ideas of the antients, ii. 47 — 51. — male and female, 
 Aristotle*s idea of it - - - - - 48, 49 
 
 Beginning, middle, and end — Aristotle's definition of them 
 applied and liiustratcd - - - - ii. 41 — 47 
 
 Bell, the sound of it affected by its swinging - i. 20, w. 
 
 Ben I, his commentary on Aristotle quoted, ii. 51. 234. 562, w. 
 
 BXai3f^o» - - - - - - ii. 411, 412 
 
 Blackwell - - - - - - - i. 65, n. 
 
 BoiLEAU, a famous imitative line of his examined, i. 11, a. 
 — quoted - - - - - - ii. 84. 302, n. 
 
 Bossu, Le, called, with little reason, Aristotle s best inter- 
 prefer, ii.75. 131. — misquotes Aristotle's text, i. 35, w. — ' 
 his idea of Episodes, examined, i. 3i5»3i6,3i7,3i8, n. — his 
 mistaken notion of Aristotle's simple fable, ii. 74. — his 
 absurd interpretation of %frr» »i0»), 131. — his defence of 
 Homer's mean words, 302, n. — his idea of Hamer's pur^ 
 pose in composing his Poems - - 448, 449, n, 
 
 Brumoy, his indiscreet way of vindicating the antients from 
 the charge of Tragi-comedy, i. 306. — his apology for the 
 bloody exhibition of Oedipus in Sophocles - ii. 84 
 
 Burgess, Mr. - - - his rational account of Homer's 
 language - - - - - - - ii. 309, n. 
 
 Burke, Mr. - - • - - - ii. 198, 199 
 
 BuRNEY, Dr. of the power of instrumental Music, i. 75, n, 
 — of the old German Comedy, ii. 121, w.— his translation 
 of the hymn of Dionysius to the Sun, 2^3, n, — of the 
 melody of the antient declamation - - 26, n, 
 
 C. 
 
 Callimachus, his hymns - - - - i. 2ii 
 
 Campbell, Dr. his explanation of Aristotle's account of the 
 ridiculous, i. 323—325. — of metaphors converted by fami- 
 liar use into j^roper terms - - - - ii. 278 
 
 Casaubon, Isaac - - - - - i. 41, n. 309, n. 
 
 Cases - - - - - - --i. 164, w. 
 
 Castelvetro, a transposition of his adopted, ii.32, 33, n. — 
 conjectural emendations of, 198. 249. — a curious illustra- 
 tion of his, 281. — his explanation of uva\oyov in cop. xxiv. 
 345, n. — of a^y* /^*r»» 356«— his commentary quoted, 
 i» 38, n. 341, n. ii. 69. 311. 330. 439. 45Q. 
 
 Catullus ii. 42i,». 
 
 Ceciua> 
 
 
Chaucer 
 
 478 INDEX II. 
 
 Cecilia ------- ii. 242 
 
 Ch.=eremon, his poetical character, i. 254, 255. — his C«i- 
 taur - - il'id. 
 
 not ujed transithclyy nor synonymous with 
 
 ii. ^03 — 208 
 
 ii. 116, 117 
 
 - - - - ii. 203. 205, and n, 
 
 CuoEPiiOR.t - - - the Tragedy of that name men- 
 tioned by Aristotle, (vol. i. p. 150.) probably not that of 
 iEschylus ii. 188, 189 
 
 Choragi - - - - - - - i. 138, If. 
 
 Xf^ ^oAjxtix^ - - - - - - • ii. 89 
 
 Chorus, antient dramatic, its gradual extinction, i. 159, «. — 
 its prolixity, 295. — persons of, speak of themselves in the 
 singular number, even in the Odes, where they sing 
 together, ii. 95, «• — its visible number sometimes filled up 
 by the admifjsion of mutes, 98. — its entrance, a shewy and 
 expensive part of the Greek drama, 97.— in vhat sense 
 required by Aristotle to be a sharer in the action - 244 
 
 X^tjra ^6*> "• >3i 
 
 X^^jr®- "-134 
 
 Chromatic, and Enharmonic, melody of the Greeks, imi- 
 tative of speech - - - - - - i- 76 
 
 Cicero, i. 233, n. 272. ii. 70, n. 420, n.— his account of 
 the ridicuiou^, agreeing with Aristotle's, i. 327. —his ora- 
 tions, compared with those of Dem«>siht» es, illustrate 
 Arisiutle's distinction of the rhetorical and political 
 styles, ii. 38, «.- of poetic enihusiasm, or genius, ii. 210. 
 — illustrates a passage of Aristotle - - ii. 264 
 
 Circumflex accent, called grare by Aristotle, ii. 262, and;?. 
 — whether distinguished, in his time, by any appropriated 
 
 term 263, and «. 
 
 Clarissa - - - - - ii. 103. 242 
 
 Cleophov, his poetical character - i. 263. ii. 301 
 
 Comedy, Old and Middle, what we call Farce, i. 29a. — 
 their object was the laughable m grucrul - 326, 327 
 
 Comedy, usual intricacy of its first scenes, ii. 41,42. — a 
 disadvaniage of it, compared with Tragedy - 42 
 
 Condillac - - - - - - ii. 20, n. 
 
 Contests, Dramatic, of the Greeks, their variety, ii. 339»34o 
 
 Crespiiontes* 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 479 
 
 CRESPIT0^^TEs, of Kuripidcs, the discovery in it, in what view 
 admired by Aristotle - - - - ii. 129^ 130 
 
 Criticism, "philosophical, a common mistake of, i, 8, n. ii. 56 
 
 ('yclops of Euripides, a singular circumstance relative to it, 
 
 i. 311, 312 
 
 D. 
 
 Dacier, his mistake relative to the Old and Middle 
 Comedy, i. 335.— his strange assertion lelative to ihe 
 comtanf observation of the unities of time and place in the 
 Greek Tragedies, 342. — his idea of Aristotle's simple 
 fable, ii 74. — his absurd explanation and false translation 
 of a passage in Aristotle, 131, 132, and n. — his absurd ac- 
 count of tlie number of Greek Tragedies performed in a 
 ^^y» 334 — 336- — says the Iliad may be read in a day, 
 
 337> 338 
 
 D'Alembert - i. 68, n, — makes Architecture an imi- 
 tative art ------- 92, «. 
 
 Dance, Pantomimic ----- i. 226 
 
 Dancer, Pantomimic, his necessary accomplishments, ac- 
 cording to Lucian > - _ - ii. 428, «. 
 
 Dante, his description of the mingled sounds of his In- 
 ferno i, 18 
 
 D'Aubignac, of perfect dramatic conclusions, ii. 46, and «. 
 
 Demetrius, (n«f» '£^/x.) i. 307, and n. ii. 31, «. 89, 71.— of 
 the analogical metuphor - - - - 28^ 
 
 Description, vihtn imitative, i. 13.— not to be confounded 
 with expression -----. .j^q 
 
 Description, tff«Vflr/ire— of visible objects, i. 13. — of sounds 
 15 — 21. — of mental objects, immediate, or by their sen- 
 sible effects, 22 — 27. — not all exact and minute descrip- 
 tion, imitative - - - . - - 41, 42^ n. 
 
 Description, local and picturesque — the remarkable inferi- 
 ority of the antients to the moderns in such description 
 stated, and its cause conjectured - - i. 44 — 54 
 
 AtcTi?, rnrud, complication - - - - ii. 221, 222 
 
 Lictouv -- - - - - - - ii.431 
 
 Dialogue of the Greek Tragedy, to what sort of melody it 
 was probably set - - - - - - ii. 26 
 
 Akx^c^i* - - - - - - - -ii.312 
 
 Diction, Tragic, ii. 321, 322, and n. — Aristotle's idea of its 
 perfection, 326. — sketch of its history in his Rhetoric, 327 
 
 it 
 
 Ii 
 
A 
 
 480 INDEX II. 
 
 Ai^cKfycuXta ------- ii. 248 
 
 Ai^a<7xni» r^xyu^iatf origin of that expression - - ii, 255 
 
 Diderot, ii. 243. — of the Andria of Terence, 44, n. — illus- 
 trates a precept of Anstotle, i. 152, w. — of the difliculty of 
 planning a drama - - - - - -ri. 34 
 
 Dignity, modern Tragic, not to be found in the Greek 
 Tragedy - - - i. 299— 311. ii. 31. 82. 148 
 
 Diogenes Laertius, of the Tetralogice - - ii. 333 
 
 DiONYsius, of HalicarnassuSy his account of the regularity 
 and simplicity i)( the old Dithyrambic, i. jyo. — of the 
 melody of the Parode m the Orestes of Euripides, ii. 89, 90 
 
 DiONYsius, the painter ----- i. 257 
 
 DiONYsius, a fine passage of his Hj^mn to the Swn, ii. 293 
 
 Disaster - - - -- - - -ii. 81 
 
 Discovery, of Joseph by his brethren, i. 132, n. — of Tele- 
 machus by Menelaus, in the Odyssey, ii. 183. — in the 
 Chuephoras of iEschylus, examined, i85. 188. — between 
 Merope and her son in the Cresphovies of Euripides — 
 Aristotle's view of it, 120, 130. — its effect upon the 
 audience decribed by Plutarch - - - 130 
 
 Discoveries, various, in the Odyssey - - i. 180, n. 
 
 Dithyrambic Poetry, how imitative^ i. 209— 214. — not 
 orignally so, but of a simple form, in regular stanzas, and 
 set to the simplest melody, 269. — how it became inaitative, 
 refined, and complicated ----- 270 
 
 DocERE fabulam ----•_ ii. 255 
 
 Dog, a philosophical animal, according to Plato * i. 283 
 
 DoMENiCHiNO - - - in painting, practised a precept of 
 Aristotle ------- ii. 199 
 
 Dramatic, or personativey Poetry, imitation, in the strict 
 sense of the word - - - - - i« 3 1 , 33 
 
 Dramatic System of the antient?, upon u large scale, ii. 340 
 
 Drunken men, exhibition of ihem on ihe stUji^e, an improve- 
 ment of ^Esch^lus ------ i. 298 
 
 Dryden, misrepresents Aristotle, i. 281. ii. 441, 442. — read 
 him only in translations - - - i. 2S1, and n, 
 
 Du Bos, his absurd idea of the declamation of the antient 
 Tragedy, ii. 19, 20. — his strange e.\planation of a passage 
 of Aristotle - - - - - - - 27, ». 
 
 £cno> 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 E. 
 
 4S1 
 
 Echo, of sound to sense - - - 
 Hh ------ 
 
 Eti^ep^ea^cci - - _ - _ 
 
 ExwXijIk* Aristotle's definition of it, 
 
 Emendations conjectural, suggested, of Aristotlt:, i.83. 
 226. 231. 280, w. 294. 327. 528. 336. ii.9. 59. 67. i6i. 
 166. 174. 203. 241. 249. 280. 288. 314. 319. 329. 342. 
 
 i.253. ii-329 
 
 - ii. 354 
 
 - ii.372 
 
 360. 366, 367. 398. 406. 408. 431. - 
 of .^sciiylus - - - 
 
 of ArISTIDES QUINTILIANUS - 
 
 of Plato - - - - 
 
 ^ of Plutarch - - - 
 
 438 
 ii. 290, n. 
 
 ' ii-254 
 
 i.234, ff. 
 
 - ii.105 
 
 Empedocles, his two physical principles of friendship and 
 strife, i. 196, n. — a quotation from him explained, ibid. — 
 his philosopliical Poetry, 248. — his diction ailowed by 
 Aristotle to be Homeric _ - - • - 250 
 
 ^vct^nx - - - - - - - - i. 44, w. 
 
 Evx^yni - - - - - ... - ii. 436 
 
 Enharmonic intervals of the Greeks imitations of 
 
 speech, -.i.y(5 
 
 Epic Poem, Aristotle's rule for the length of it, considered, 
 ii- 33* — 339* — what was his idea of its proper fw^, 451. — 
 its merits and defects compared with Tragedy, 451 — 453. 
 • — now and then approaches to the ludicrous -* 453, w. 
 
 Epicharmus, philosophized in Trochaics, i. 249.— his ludi- 
 crous description of the voracity of Hercules - 304, n. 
 
 Evismnct, - - - - - - ii. 162 and 164, n. 
 
 E^uixtK. ot, ------- ii.430 
 
 Episode, in what senses used by Aristotle, i. 315—318. 
 ii. 216, 217.— how it came to signify an incidental and 
 digressive story, i. 31S, 319.— Epic and Tragic, their dif- 
 ference - - - - - - - -i. 318 
 
 Epithets, negative, frequent in the Greek Poets - ii. 295 
 
 EpopoEiA - - - difficulty of admitting Aristotle to have 
 proposed the application of that term to Mimes and 
 Dialogues, ------ i. 241 — 244 
 
 Eratosthenes, his just idea of the end of Poetry, ii. 449, n, 
 
 Ernestus, his interpretation of two words in Homer, 
 
 i. 2f,i>. ii.50 
 
 ▼ OL. II. Ii £6^ 
 
 ! 
 
;il^ 
 
 If 
 
 4«i I N D E X 11. 
 
 E0d* XiJca;; ------- ii. 398 
 
 H9*i, dispositions, tempers - - - - - i.7o,n. 
 
 HS^, h9w^ ----- in what sense applied by Aristotle to 
 Tragedy^ i. 155, w. ii. 231. — opposed to ir«60' and waDq- 
 TixO' - - - - - ii. 3i,n. 226) and n. 
 
 EuBULUs, fragment of a Comedy of his - - ii. 138 
 
 Euclid, illustrates Aristotle - - - [[, 265, 266 
 
 Ev^ytj?, -..----- ii. 209 
 
 Euripides, Aristotle's censure of his Choral Odes, i. 158, n. 
 — a passage of, proving the licentiousness of antient 
 painting, 256. — sometimes familiar, and Tragi-comic, 
 301. 303. 305. 307. — his Prologues, 329. — h^ of his 
 Tragedies, ii. 31. — did not observe the French rule, 
 ** de ne pas ensanglanicr ie Theatre^ 85.— :i passage, in his 
 Jphig. in Taur. considered, 101, «.— his powers not confined 
 to emotions of tenderness and pity, 1 10. — two fine passages 
 in his Medea and ElectrOy 110, 111.— his character of 
 Achilles, 167. — his Tragic cavern, 202.— his diction, and 
 Aristotle's character of it, 326.— in what sense said to 
 have drawn men as they are, 374 — 380.— imitated common 
 nature more closely than Sophocles - - - 380 
 
 'Evffvtoirrot - - - - - - • - 11. 52 
 
 .Expression, redundant j an instance of it frequent in the 
 Greek writers - - - - - - ii. 2 
 
 Expression, Musical, considered as imitation by the antients, 
 and why, i. 69— 76.— how assisted by words, though by no 
 means dependent on them - • - - 71 
 
 F. 
 
 Fabite, double, of Aristotle, not to be confounded with our 
 
 double plot - - - - - - - ii. 113 
 
 Felibien .------ ii. 199 
 
 Fiction, imitation - - - - - - i. 27 
 
 Fistula Panis. — See Syrinx. 
 
 Flute, antient, (AyX^) - • - - i. 225, w. 
 
 Flute-players, antieni - - - - ii. 426 — 428 
 
 FoNTENELLE, \\\sPlatonic idea of instrumental Music, i, 74, n. 
 — his Pastorals, 246. — of Hercules in the Alcestis of 
 Eurip. 305.— his Rejiesions sur la Poetique, ii. 60.— his 
 idea of ^schylus, 2 1 1 . — of sublimity, 212, n. — his strange 
 notion of Homer's dialects • - - 306 — 309 
 
 FooTK ----- . ii. 209, and n. 
 
 INDEX IL 
 
 483 
 
 G. 
 
 rx«TT«t *--,-.. ii. 315, 316 
 
 Gods, Hiathen, well characterized in three lines of Xeno- 
 phanes -------- ii. 383 
 
 Goldsmith, his description of village sounds in a summer's 
 evening - - • - - - - -i. 18 
 
 Gravina - - - - i. 32, n. — his vindication of the 
 Jphigenia of Euripides against Aristotle's censure of 
 inconi^istence ------ ii. 155, 156 
 
 Gray, Air. - - _ his fondness for Racine, ii. 213.— his 
 Jgrippina, ------_ ibid, 
 
 Grbek language, its comprehensive brevity of expression, 
 
 ii-52,53 
 
 H. 
 
 Handel --------i. 89 
 
 Harmony, said by Aristotle to have no expression, i.iB4. — 
 that assertion not true of the harmony of modern counter- 
 pmnt, 86, n. — what to be concluded from it with respect to 
 the Music of the antients - _ - - i^id, 
 
 Harris, of sonorous imitaiiQn in a line of Virgil, i. 6, w. — of 
 the imperfection of such imitation, 10, n, — imitation of 
 speech overlooked by him in his account of imitative Music^ 
 69, n. go, — of the difference between rhythm and metre, 
 108, n. — a translation of his considered, ii. 39, 40, and n. 
 — an explanation of his questioned, 75, 76. — his version of 
 the words in which Aristotle defines •n-e^^vtruti, 79. — his 
 just remark concerning a difficulty in translation, 210. — 
 of naturalized metaphors - - - - - 27 S 
 
 Heinsius, his excellent comment on Aristotle's rule relative 
 to the goodness of Tragic manners - - ii. 132 — 134 
 
 HeLj^n, her talent of vocal mimicry - - - i. 63, n, 
 
 Hercules, - - - his comic jollity in the Alcestis of 
 Euripides, ii. 304 — 306. — extravagant description of his 
 voracity ------- 304, n, 
 
 Herodotus ------- ii. 422 
 
 Hetne, ii. 219. 330. 389, w.- his just idea of imitative ver* 
 sification, i.9, n. — his explanation of ^iiaa-Ko^^, applied 
 to the Tragic Poet ----- ii.255,w. 
 
 HiPFXASy bis Jesuitical theology - - - - ii. 393 
 
 I i a HoBSCS, 
 
lit, 
 
 4H I N D E X II. 
 
 HoBBE*, of L'dcaii, i. 182, n. — of probable fiction, ii. 350, n. 
 IIotJAftTii, i. 261. — his Analyiis of Brauti/ - ii. 237, n. 
 
 lioMiLR, called tlie best of Painters, i. 14, w. — his description 
 of the singing of the nightingale, 21. — his touches of local 
 description how improved and finished by Pope, 46 — 50, 
 and;/. — absurdly eiiibelllslied by his translators, 64,*?. — 
 his description of the vocal miuiicry of Helen, 63, ». — hymns 
 attributed to him, narrative, 211. — parodied by the an- 
 tients, 264, 265. — called by VlAn the first of Tragic 
 FoetSf 313. — his descriptions of female beauty, ii. 48. — a 
 
 . fine pr.ssage in his Odyssey, 1S3. — remarks on the original 
 idivision cf his Poems, 184. 186. — his use of the verb 
 Xa.>^'jrxmif, 204 —206. — his ^i<^ v^oc^^^ See, how 'defended 
 by iloileau, 302. — how be t defended, 27>i{/.-r- absurd notion 
 of his dialects, 307. — his Poems regarded by Aiistotle as 
 too long, 337, 338. — his fictions, in what sense compared 
 to the h gi'vl sophism a consequently 347 — 352.— his per- 
 fect knowled"[e of all arts and sciences, ridiculed 1)V Plato, 
 364. -a passage of, considered, and vindicated from meta- 
 phorical interpretation, 386 — 389. — passages of, consi- 
 dered, 317 — 3-20. 400, and II. — his isaccuracies in geo- 
 grapiiy, astronomy, 6ic. censured by the Zoilis^ts, 415.— his 
 hexameteis, and those kA /lesiod, sung to the lyre by 
 Terpander, Timotheus, &:c. - - - . 4.33 
 
 Horace - - - ii. 146, «. — his Odes sometimes dramatic, 
 i. 211, and n. — his expiCbsion sometimes taken from 
 Aristotle - - - - - .. . ii, 367 
 
 Howes, Mr. his explanation of the hicT^yt trvreta-t^ - ii. 1 13 
 
 Hume, his objection to Aristotle's doctrine of the iinitj/ of 
 fable ii. 54> 55 
 
 HvRD, P/isbop, his masterly vindication of the Italian Poets, 
 and the genuine privileges of Poetry, i. 183, ;?. — quotied, 
 290. — his explanation of Aristotle's precept relative to 
 vniformity oi manners, examined, ii. 141 — 148. — his vin- 
 dication of the Iphigenia (in AuUs) of Euripides, con- 
 sidered, 151 — 157. — his explanation of the difierence 
 between the imitations of Sophocles, and those of Euripides, 
 considered, 375 — 381.— of the language of passion, 358. 
 — of the end of Poetry, 449, n. — of the proper end of Epic 
 Poetry 451 
 
 HuTCHEsoN, Profcwyr, accounts for the power of Music over 
 the passions from resemblance to passionate speech, i. 77 
 
 Hymxs, «arrartre - - - - - -i. 211 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 L 
 
 - ii. 413, and ». 
 ii. 62 
 
 Iago ------ 
 
 lAMfii, the Poems so called, acted 
 
 Ix«fw? - - ii. 330? 33 » 
 
 Imitation, strictly so called, what essential to it, 1.4. — 
 not applicable to Poetry in any sense, that is not inde- 
 pendent on metre, 36,/?. — Aristotle's solution of the pleasure 
 arising from it, 280, 281. — a singular application of Aris- 
 totle's doctrine on that subject - - - ii..84, 85 
 
 Imitation, Poetic (or hy icvrds,) various and confused ac- 
 counts of it, i. 56, w. 58. —extended by some to that general 
 £ense, which comprehends all spetch, 33. 41, «. — among the 
 antients closely connected with personal - - 62 
 
 . •-— by sound ------ 5 — 12 
 
 • by description - - - - -12 — 27 
 
 h\ fiction - 27—31 
 
 . • hy personation, 31, 32. — mixture and various com- 
 bination of these ditibrent species - - - 33» 34 
 • by resemblance af verbal sound and motion, its im- 
 perfection, 6, and n. 10, n.— how produced by the best 
 Poets, 8, and n. 40.— not imitation in a strict and proper 
 sense - - - - - - - -9. 11 
 
 Jlctive, distinct from descriptixey 27, 28. — neither of 
 
 them,' strictly and properly, imitation, ^o.—deseripti-ce, not 
 noticed by Aristotle, and v.hy - - - - 54, 55 
 
 Imitation, Musical, synonymous to expression, with the 
 antients, but opposed to it by modern wi iters, i. 69, and ». 
 
 Imitative Arts, confusion arising from that general de- 
 nomination applied to Poetry, Music, and I'aintmg, iu 
 classing the arts, i, 91, 92.— absurdity of extending it to 
 Architecture ------- 92, a. 
 
 Incidents, how considered by Aristotle as arising, or not 
 arising, from the action itself - - - ii. 194, 195 
 
 Johnson, Dr. of Shakspeare's hasty conclusions, i. 156, n. — 
 of Thomson's diction, 187, «.- of the unities »»f time and 
 place, 344.— of the Tragic language of Adcison and Shak- 
 speare, ii. 31, w.— his censure of Mr. Gray's Agrippina, 
 213. — of the characters of Lothario and Lovelace, 413. — 
 of the ejfect of the character of Iago on the spectator, 
 ?6i(f. «.— of the merit of the Epic Poet - - 453 
 
 JoNSON, Ben, prologue to the puppet-shew of Hero and 
 L{:dndQT \u his Bart holomeiv-Fair - - - i- 334- 
 
 , I i 3 JoRTi:iJ, 
 
4B<5 INDEX II. 
 
 JoRTiN, Dr. his character of Achilles - - - ii. j6g 
 Joseph, and his brethren, story of - - - i. 132, n. 
 
 IpHiGENiA (at Aulis) of Euripides— inconsistence attributed 
 to her character by Aristotle, considered - 11.151—157 
 
 IsocRATEs ii. 209, w.— of the privileges of Poetry, and 
 
 the importance of Vfne to its eftect . - - 360 
 
 Kaims, Lord, his assertion, that harmony has " no relation 
 to sentiment' examined, 1. 84, w.— of the rw6/r, 324, 325. — 
 his just character of Kacine - - . . ii. 212 
 
 KaTavf-jj^JO-owfiatt - - • - . - -ii. 403 
 
 KaQa^o-n, (ira9i}jt«»T4;j') -- considered, ii. 3 — 19. — a passage 
 relative to it in Aristotle's Polit. examined and trans- 
 lated -----... 5__,4 
 
 Kf»/Afyov (oyo^a) - - - - - - - ii. 29I 
 
 Kt^av, Kif^oi^xtf to pour out ----- ii. 397 
 KiyriTix^ --_-«__. ij 3^2 
 
 KoiM<r/A®' - ii. 308, and «. 
 
 Ko/i/x^, what, ii. 85. — example of it - - 99—101 
 
 Ko§^«|, the dance so called - - - - i. 249^ n. 
 
 Koay.^j the ornamental word - - - what probably meant 
 
 by i.t - - - - - - . li. 205—298 
 
 Kf^io* (ofoftflt), its sense - - - - ii. 278, 279 
 
 L. 
 La Fontaine ' - ii. 355, n. 
 
 La Mont, i. 58. n. — combats the notion, that instruction is 
 the end of Poetry, ii. 449, n. — his account of Homer's 
 diction - - - - - - - - 301 
 
 Landscape, no technical term equivalent to it in Greek or 
 Roman writers - - - - - - i. 52 
 
 Landscape-painting, not practised, or not cultivated, by 
 the Greeks, i. 51. — its effect on the general taste for pros- 
 pects and ruial scenery - - - - -53,5^ 
 
 Language, na^wra/ not always simple and familiar lan- 
 guage ii. 322, n. 
 
 A«|k, in what sense applied by Aristotle to the Parode of 
 the Greek Tragedy, ii. 88 - 92. -and Xiyiaflai, sometimes 
 applied to recitative, or such singing as most resembles 
 speech 4; 21. 88 
 
 Aix,t9omi - - - i. 47, w. 
 
 Little 
 
 INDEX 
 
 II. 487 
 
 i. 178, n, ii. 161 
 
 
 Little Iliad - - - - • 
 
 Aoyo* -i^tXo*, not always prose ----- i. 234 
 
 AoT^, how used by Aristotle, i. 236.— and by Plato, i6i(f.n.— 
 
 the speaking or dialogue part of Tragedy, 205. ii. 35.— its 
 
 sense iu Aristotle's analysis of diction in general^ 258, 259 
 
 LoNGiNUs, of the inequalities of Sophocles, i. 303.— of 
 the Odyssey, ii. 31, n. — illustrates an expression of 
 Aristotle - - 359 
 
 LuCAN, «tT^ ^/ jAa ay«>»{£T»4 - - - ]. 182, n. 
 
 l^uciAN, of descriptive imitation, i. 14, «. 16,7?.— of the pan- 
 tomimic musical accompaniment, 221. — of the comic 
 masks, 327, n.— of the dress of the antient Tragic actors, 
 ii. 340, n.— of the requisites of an accomplished panto- 
 mimic dancer ------- 4^8, n. 
 
 LuDius, of the Augustan age, the first landscape-painter upon 
 record - - - - • ~ " - 1. 52 
 
 A«(r«?, (fenoumc/i/, development - - ii. 221, 222 
 
 M. 
 
 Madness, enthusiasm, of every kind, frequently so denomi- 
 nated by the antients . - - ii. 210, and n. 
 Maffei, mistakes Aristotle - - - - ii. 129, 130 
 Mandrabulus, a Poem of Cleophon - - - 1.264 
 
 M««it^ - - - ii. 210 
 
 Manners, (or cAarac^er,)— little of them in the Tragedy of 
 a polished age ------ u. 30, 31 
 
 . . Tragic, in what sense required by Aristotle to be 
 
 good, and why ; the rule intended as a compromise with 
 Plato, ii. 131 — 136. — Aristotle's precept relative to their 
 uniformity, how to be understood - - 141—149 
 
 Ma>9«»i»r, i. 280— 288.— a particular use of that verb, ii. 396 
 Margites - - -- - - -1. 291 
 
 Markland, his manner of defending Euripides against 
 Aristotle's censure of his Iphigenia - - - ii. 157 
 
 Marmontel, M. misUkes Aristotle, ii. 108, ». 134, n. — 
 
 quoted - - 201.223 
 
 Marsyas - -ii. 12, «• 
 
 Marvellous, ^Ac rfrawa/zc - - • ii. 118, 119 
 Masks, of the Old Comedy, caricaturas - - i. 327 
 
 114 Mason, 
 

 48S 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 1. 117, n. 
 ii. '25, n. 
 
 ii- 435, ". 
 i. 145, w. 
 
 Mason, Mr. his excellence in imitative description o? souudf, 
 and particularlv oiinu&ical sounds, 1. 1(5—2 1 .—example i'rom 
 }mCdractacus, 17.— liis idea of Tragic language, ii. •322,//. 
 — a fine exdui'plc from his Curacfacifs of I'lic simpler lan- 
 guage of Tragedy ----.. 323 
 
 Matron-, a famous Parodist - - • - j^ 26- 
 
 Mvx^vTiy ii. 158.— of the French opera, described bv Rous- 
 ^*'a" - - - -^ -^.^^ 
 
 MEGALIOT.il -----.. ii, 075 
 
 ?!7^^' - - - ii.43 
 
 '^ '^^ ----- 11. 102, 7#. 
 
 Melody, /)a//W/c— its imitation of the tone* and inflectiens 
 of impassioned speech, i. 88— 00.— such imitution -par- 
 ticularly remarkable in Pergolesi, Purcell, and Handel, 80. 
 — denied by Dr. Beattie - - . . 88 «. 
 
 Melopoeia, what - . . - . 
 
 MeA^-, used in three different musical senses 
 
 ^Iexage ------. 
 
 Mexamitk, curious story of - - - 
 
 Menandlr, anecdote relative to the antient Chorus in a 
 fragment of his - - . - - - w^ qg 
 
 Merope.— See Discovert. 
 
 Mfo-o*, whether used by Aristotle to denote the circumflex 
 'Accent ii. 261—267 
 
 Mira^a^-K (of Tragedy,) what ... ii. ^^ 
 
 Metamorphoses, of Ovid— unity of that Poem, of what 
 ^i»^ - - i. i«6, //. 
 
 Metaphor, Aristotle's principle of the pleasure we receive 
 from it, i. 282. — various ways of guarding it, accordiii<y 
 to Aristotle ii. .294, 295 
 
 — the a/wlogical, or proportional, what ; and how it 
 
 differs from the melapbor a specie ad .speriijii, ii. 28*2—288. 
 — instances of it fiom Aristotle and liomcr, 285, 286, 
 
 and;/. 
 Metastasio, his Esfratlo della Poetica d\4ri6toiilc - i. 343 
 
 Michael Angelo, how characterized by Sir Jos. Reynolds, 
 
 ■Kr "• 381 
 
 Milton, a circumstance in his description of the sound of 
 
 a bell, i. 20.— his excellence in imitative description of 
 soumh, and particularly of mimcal sounds, 16—20.- his 
 account of Aristotle's purgation of the passions by Tra- 
 gedy, !i. 18.— prologue of Jiis Comus, not more excep- 
 tionable than Ihose of Euripides ... 9^ 
 
 Mimes, 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 489 
 
 ^IiMES, .of Sophroji, i. 244 — 24G. — not, probably, of the 
 licentious cast of the Roman JNIimes - - 245 
 
 Mimicry, vocal, its antiquity, i.6i,«. 218. — two remarkable 
 instancies of it recorded by Homer - - 63, n. 
 
 MoLESTUs, (po^TiK'^ - - • - - ii. 420, n, 
 
 MoNBODDO, Lord, of the style of Cicero's orations com- 
 pared with that of his rhetorical and philosophical works, 
 ii. 38, n. [where add to the rei^rences, vol. ni.p. 256.] — 
 of Homer's language ----- ^09 
 
 Monologues, of the Greek Tragedy, whether set to red- 
 
 tatncj or uir 
 
 ii. 27, 28 
 
 Moor, Professor, his erroneous explanation of Aristotle's 
 xa9«^j-K - - - - - - - iLS, ft. 
 
 Mo^«a, species - - - - - - i. 289 
 
 Mva^ot -------- ii. ^42 
 
 Music, its whole power reducible to three distinct effects, 
 i. 66. — how far it ran lait^e ideas, 67, 68. 73, n. — in what 
 senses regarded as imitative by the moderns, 68. — and by 
 the aniients, 69. —ideas and language of the antients, on 
 this subje;.t, accounted for, 69 — 76. — its power over the 
 passiuns, %hat, 72. — that power accurately expressed by 
 Aristotle, 72, 91. — docs not depend on Poetry for its ex- 
 pression, 73, and n, — its separation from Poetry, by whom 
 complained of, 74, n. — allowed by Aristotle to have ex- 
 pression without words, 74, n. 83. — its power of affectiug 
 resolved by some v, liters into a resemblance, more or less, 
 to the tones of speech, 77. 88. — the analogy of its me- 
 lody and rliylhm 10 tJiose of speech, 76, 77, 78, and n. 88. 
 — impropriety of calling it an imitative art, according to 
 the mod'^n ideas of musical imitation, 91, — an antient 
 division of it into three kinds* - - - - ii. 6 
 
 Music, Antient, its improvements, like those of the modem, 
 treated as corruptions - - - - i. 270, 271 
 
 Music, Dramatic, of the Greeks, strictly imitative - i. 76 
 
 Music, Instrumental, its power, 1473, n. — a peculiar pleasure 
 arising from the verj' indeterminateness of its expression, *" 
 74, n. — of the antients, 76. — in what sense considered by 
 Aristotle as imitating manners and characters - 262, 263 
 
 Music, Pastoral, affecting by association, i. 224, and n. 225 
 
 Music, Vocal, almost solely cultivated by the Greeks, i. 73.76 
 
49<> 
 
 INDEX ir. 
 
 N. 
 
 NicoMACiius, Painter --...]. ^sg 
 Nightingale, her singing characterized by Homer - i. *i 
 
 NoMEs, not essentially distinguished from Dithyrambics by 
 the objects of their imitation - - i. 267. 271, 272 
 
 Novels, a good apologetical motto fpr them, ii. 242. — im- 
 probability often unreasonably objected to them, 242, C43 
 
 O. 
 
 Objects, ruraly in what manner usually described by the 
 antients, i. 45, n, — examples from Theocritus^ yi^ph and 
 Plato 
 
 ibid. 
 ii. II, and n. 
 
 ii. 391 
 ii. 145, 146 
 
 ii. 37 » 
 i. 117, n, 
 
 i. 159> «• 
 ii. 408, 409 
 
 Olympus, his sacred Music - - - 
 
 O/AA^^ - - - • - .- 
 
 Oppian --.--» 
 
 Orchestra - - - . . 
 
 flcavrvff todem sentu .... 
 
 P. 
 
 Painting, the three styles of it mentioned by Aristotle 
 applicable to modem artists - . - i, 259, 260 
 
 Paintings, indecent ^ allowed in the temples of some hea- 
 then deities ------- j, 256 
 
 Pantomime, moderuy Aristotelic analysis of it, ii. 12O, 121 
 
 Roman ----., ii. 122, m. 
 
 Parabasis, of the Greek Comedy - - - i. 330 
 
 Het^tt(pvXaTrto^at - • - • . "ii.2lO 
 
 n«^* ivfAtroty {a consequentiy) the logical sophism so called, 
 what, ii. 347.— how applied by Aristotle to Homer's 
 management of fiction . . . ii. g^y — ^52 
 
 Parode, of the Greek Chorus, to what kind of melody it 
 was sctj ii. 88 — 91. — a specimen of that melody from 
 Dionysius Halicarn. 89 — 91. — of the Orestes of Euri- 
 pides, ibid. — always sung by the Chorus either af, or soon 
 
 after. 
 
 INDEX IP. 
 
 491 
 
 c/?cr, their first entrance upon the stage, 92. 95. 97. — was 
 sometimes in the regular Lyric form, of Strophe and 
 Antistiuphe -----. g^^ ^^ 
 
 Parodies, a favourite species of humour with the Athenian^ 
 ;— specimens of them - - - - ii. 264 — 266 
 
 Passion, the natural Poetry of - - - ii. 358 
 
 Passions, ;>i/r^af/o» of, by Tragedy, considered, ii. 3 — 19. — 
 
 , how far the frequent exercise of them, by works of ima- 
 
 ^ gination, may tend to moderate and refine them in real 
 
 iife ; 15—18 
 
 n«8u - - - - • - - - ii. 81 
 
 naGrj/xara, used by Aristotle as synonymous with ITaO)), ii. 8,n. 
 
 Pathetic, - - - - not attainable, either in Poetry or 
 Painting; without close imitation of nature and real 
 life ii. 38i,and«. 
 
 Pauson, a licentious Painter - - - - i. q^^ 
 
 Pergolesi - - - - - .- i. 89 
 
 Ilt^tTrfTcia, liexolution, what - - - ii 77. — confounded 
 with the ^iTa^ao-j;, or change of fortune, common to all 
 Tragedy - - - . - - - 74—79 
 
 n^iTTJj - ii. 341 
 
 Petrarch ii. 291 
 
 <^xv'K^, STTd^on©* . - - - « i. 276-— 278 
 
 <>jaX») -------- ii, 289 
 
 4>4Aa>Gg4;To» ----- ii. 104-<— 106. 240 
 
 4>tAta l^oc^'n<i ------- ii, 445 
 
 Philoxenus, the Poem of his, alluded to by Aristotle, not 
 a drama ------. i, 268 
 
 Phorcides, The ---•.- 1.155,7?. 
 
 4>«pTix<^ -.--.-• ii. 420 — 415 
 
 PiccoLOMiNi, his version and commentary quoted, ii. 78. 
 139- 175- 190. 284. 289. 304. 312. 355.*— an objection 
 of his removed .----- 298 
 
 Pindar, instances of the dramatic in his Odes, i. 211, and n. 
 — an Aristotelic passage of - - - ii. 355, 356 
 
 Plato, his description of the banks of the Ilissus, i. 45,11. 
 — his idea of Poeiic imitation, and in what it differed from 
 that of Aristotle, 60. — his objections to it, 57, «. 63, n. — 
 coincides with I'ontenelle as to the want of meaning in 
 instrumental Music, 74, n. — resolves musical expression 
 
 into 
 
*l 
 
 49'2 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 into resemblance of spetcb, 79.— his division of Poetry, 
 into three kinds, 210. 275.— uses ^oytf,- >!/*Xtf{ in the sense 
 of Aristotle, for vvords without music, *234, 235, n. — his 
 idea of Poetiy stripped 01 metre, 239, 240, and n. — his 
 dialogues dramatic — sometimes acted, 247, and w. — attri- 
 butes to Music the imi tuition 01 manners and characters, 
 261.— his idea of Comedy agrees with Aristotle's, 326, 
 and w.— his objection to Tragedy, ii. 14, 15, and n. — calls 
 Homer T^ay«o»owot<&-, and Eprc Poetry, Tragic, 117, «.— 
 his idea ef the danger of exhibiting bad characters in 
 Poetic nuitation, 132. 135, 13G, and //. — his character of 
 Achilles, 167. 169.— familiar to him to speak of all 
 enthusiasm as a species of madness, 210. — his account 
 of Protagoras, 257. — his address to the Tragic Poets, 363. 
 — in what manner he exposes the notion of Homer's ac- 
 curate knowledge of arts and bcietices, 364. — his whimsical 
 argument to discredit Poetic imitation, 365, n. — con- 
 tinually reproaching the Poets with violation of truth, 
 373, 374, 411, 412. — his idea of the use of wine, 384. — 
 a line passage in hmi, vindicating the truth and immuta- 
 bility of God, 394. — of the immoral tendency of Homer's 
 fictions, 412.— quoted, i. 216, «. 283. ii.47. 64. 430. 445, 
 
 446, n. 
 
 Plautus, and Terence, their way of supplying the imper- 
 fect conclusions of their plays - - •- - ii. 45 
 
 Plautus, of Poetic fiction - - - - - ii. 356 
 Plays, C^i«f5e, their length - - - ii. 334)n- 
 
 Pliny, the Elder, no landscape, or landt^cape- painter, men- 
 tioned in his account of Grecian artists and their works, 
 i. 51, 52.— his account of Protogenes - - 260 
 
 Pliny, //ic Foww Off r i. 5'2,«. SS?"- 
 
 Pldtaiich, of vocal mimicry, i. 62, w. — of the paintings of 
 Dionysius the Colophonian, 259. — rails at musical corrup- 
 tion, 271. ii. 105. — of two dirtcrent ways in which the 
 Tragic Iambics were sung, ii. 21. 27.-0!' a musical revo- 
 lution, 69.— his account of the theatrical efl'ect of the 
 discovery in the Cresphontes of Euripides, 130. — quoted, 
 
 26,«. 73; 433 
 
 PoET-nilLOSOPHERS •- ----- 1. 248 
 
 Poetry, imitation, in a strict sense, only when dramatic or 
 pcrsonative, i. 31, 32. — to be considered i.s imitative on|y in 
 lour senses, 32.-"whence,originLUly, denominated an imita^ 
 tive art, S7 — 65. — noiread, in geneial, by the Greeks, but 
 heard, 63, 64. — absurdity of supposing instruction to be its 
 chief end, ii. 448.-113 end, according to Aristotle, to giic 
 pkiuure - - - - • - - 448, 449 
 
 . Poetry, 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 493 
 
 Poetry, Theological, of the Greeks, did not exclude fiction 
 and invention ----- i. 210, 211 
 
 If "^ 
 
 Poets, Greek Tragic, obliged to conform to the taste of the 
 
 people, i. 309, and w. — compared witli Shakspeare, 311. 
 ii. 30, 31. — originally actors also, 201. 255.— the great 
 number of their productions - - - - 340,341 
 
 TlomcT^sti mt /xl/*»jcr<», never used by Aristotle for i^ifjAic^l 
 simply ------ i. 251,252 
 
 nox<Tix»j, ('h) — ^o^iT^x®•, (*o)-^neXjTjxfcs' - - ii. 36, 37 
 
 Pollux, Jul, a passage about the Sijr'mx, or Fistula 
 
 Panis - - - - i. 220, 221, 222, and ??. 
 
 PoLus, the Tragic actor ----- ii. 434 
 
 POLYGNOTUS - - - - .i - - i.255 
 
 Pope, his improvement of Homer's local and picturesque de- 
 scriptions, i. 46 — 40, and n. ii. 387. — hfs Pastorals, ^i. 246 
 
 Potter, Mr. his explanation of Aristotle'^ censure of the 
 choral odes of Euripides, i. 158, n. — his opinion of a 
 passage of Aristotle considered, ii. 149, 150. — of the dis- 
 covery in the C/ioe/7/w/-^ of .'Eschylus - - 189,^. 
 
 Tl^oail^io-iq -------- ii.40, «. 
 
 U^Q^XniAurx, critical - - - - - - i.i88, n. 
 
 Prologue, Greek, Aristotle's own account of it, i.329, 330, 
 and n. — the two difierent kinds of it expressed, and ex- 
 emplified, by Terence, 332.— the narrative, 332. — its his- 
 tory and revolutions - - - - 3^3, 334 
 
 Prologue, of the Greek Comedy, not different from that of 
 
 Tragedy i.329— 33 1 
 
 ' of the French Opera - - - - i. 334 
 Prospect, (or View,) no single Greek or Latin term equiva- 
 
 i-53>«. 
 
 lent to it 
 
 n^jT^oAu ------ 
 
 Tl^uTotyu9Hr/iZ - - - - 
 
 Protagoras, singular history of him - 
 Protogenes - - - - - 
 YkX^ 
 
 Ptolemy, of descriptive imitation, 
 Purcell - - - - - 
 
 i. 162, n, 
 
 " i- 295, 296 
 
 - ii. 256, 257 
 
 - i. 260 
 
 - i. 234— 236 
 
 - i. J3,«. 
 
 - i. 89 
 
I 
 
 494 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 Q. 
 
 QuiNTiLiAN, of ii^ and 9ra0®-, ii. 31, n. — his character of 
 EuripifleSf 38.— v^f Zeuxisy 50.— illustrates a passage of 
 Aristotle, 264, 265. — of the use of metaphors, 303. — of the 
 Aictioa oi Euripides - - , - - 325, w. 
 
 Quixote, Don, his idea of translation - - i. 281, n. 
 
 R. 
 Racine -------- ii. ai2 
 
 Raphael ------ i. 259, 260 
 
 Reading not a general practice with the antienls, as 
 
 with us ----- i. 63 — 65, and n. ii. 18 
 
 Recitative, of the Greek Tragedy - - ii. 26, 27 
 
 Recitative, Choral ----- ii. 89, n. 
 
 Reynolds, SirJoiAua, quoted, i. 126, n. 258, n. 260; ii. 381. 
 — of individuality of imitation in painting - ii. 381,71; 
 
 Rhapsodists, i. 65, n. — recited, or declaimedy only - ii. 432 
 
 Rhythm ------- i. 108, n. 
 
 Richardson, his LoTc/acc - - - i. i84,b. ii. 413 
 
 Richardson, the painter, i. 259, 260, and n. — describes the 
 paintings of Mich. Aogelo and Raphael in Aristotle's 
 terms - - - - - - - -• 260 
 
 Riddle, Greek ------- ii. 306 
 
 Ridiculous, (T^e) ----- Aristotle's account of it 
 
 defended ------ i. 320— 327 
 
 Robortelli, his commentary quoted - - ii. 129, n. 
 Rondeau - - - - ^- - - i. 283 
 
 Rousseau, misunderstood by Dr. Bcattie, i.7,n. — attributes 
 all expression in Music to imitation, more or less percep- 
 tible, of speechy 77. — of the effect of paision in melodizing 
 the voice, 78, n, — his inconsistence in asserting that 
 harmony has no expression^ 84, n. — his absurd idea of the 
 thealrical declamation of the antients, ii. 19. — a LHatonic 
 writtr, 135.— agrees with Plato io his objections to dra- 
 matic imitation - - - - * - 136 
 
 Rubens -----•-• i. a6» 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 S. 
 
 495 
 
 Sampson Agonistes - - - - - 11.44 
 
 Satan of Milton, - - - his manners x?*Jra, according to ' 
 Le Bossu -.---,, ii. 131 
 
 Satyr, and Satire - - - - - i. 112 n: 
 
 Satyric Drama, probably much shorter than the serious 
 Tragedy - - ' - - . . ii. 336^ „, 
 
 Scaliger, J. C. of descriptive imitation, i. 12, n.— his notion 
 of Poelic imitation - - - - - -41 n. 
 
 Scaliger, »/o*e/7A - - - - . - ii. 182 
 Scenery, painted --»._., j^ ^gg 
 
 Scenery, dresses, mvsic. Sec. how Aristotle meant to extend 
 to them his precepts respecting the manners, and improved 
 imitation, of 'Iraigtdy - - - . ii. 170— 172 
 
 Zx^iiMira Xi|ift»?, Jigurcs of speech, what Aristotle mtant by 
 them, ii. 250—255. 271 — whence denominated <ry„z^T« 
 orjgures 253 
 
 Sculpture, of the antients, sometimes coloured, i. 216, n. 
 
 ^»»/*«'°«' ii. 178—180' 
 
 Sentence - - - no Greek word exactly synonymous 
 ^« i^ - - - , - - - - ii. 259, 260 
 
 Sentences, 5i^n?/?cflM^, and assertive, & distinction of Aris- 
 totle's logic ii. 259. 273 
 
 Shaftsbury, Lord, his extravagant encomium on the Greek 
 
 Tragedy, i. 310.— his misrepresentation of Aristotle, ibid. 
 
 his explanatory translation of a passage of Aristotle, ii. 52 
 
 Shakspeare, ii. 31. 50. 389.— neglected the conclusions of 
 his plays, 1. 156, n. ii. 45, and n.—his Caliban, i. 184, «. 
 "• 35 1 .—compared with the Greek Tragedians - i. 3 1 1 
 Sheridan, Mr. his Critic - . - . - ii. 71 
 
 Shuttles, an^i>«^ ii. 181,182 
 
 Sidney Biddulpii ------ ii. 103 
 
 Sifflet de chaudronnier - - - . « j. 220 
 
 Singers, of the modern Italian, and antient Greek, Opera-^ 
 their similar influence over Poets and Composers, ii. 69, 70 
 
 Singing - - » - in what essentially different from 
 speech - i. 78, n. ii. 93, n, 
 
 ritX»)fPT»){ - ii. 163, 164 
 
 Socrates, not fond of the country, and his reason, i. 45, n. 
 
 Sophism, Poetic, of Homer's fictions, explained, ii. 347 — 35a 
 
 SoPHIiTS, 
 
496 I N D E X II. 
 
 Sophists, their critical cavils - - - - ii. 67 
 Sophocles, sometimes fiimiliar and Trani-comic, i. -^oi 
 302. 307. — his scenes of altercation, huw cliaractenzrd 
 by a Comic Poet, 302, n.—his prologues, 329,— his descrip- 
 tion of Oedipus tearing out his own eyes, ii. 83.— did not 
 observe the French rule, " de we pas tnsang/nntcr le 
 Thfatrt^* ii. 83.— his diction, 325. — in what'' sense he 
 " drevi men as they ought to be*' - . - orj gg^ 
 
 SoPHRoy, i. 244.— imitated in an Idyl of Theocritus, 246 
 
 SouyDS, imitative description of - - - i. 1- 21 
 
 Spenser defects of a famous stanza in his Faery 
 
 Q^^-^" - ^ - i. 19. n. 
 
 T7nioei,i'^,<^xv'K^ - - - - . i. 276 278 
 
 Xira^ajoTc^oir - - - - . - ii. 61,62 
 
 Stasimon in what sense " •without anapcests and 
 
 trochees" - - ii. 98, 99 
 
 Steele, Mr. his Essay on the Melody , ^c. ofSpecch, 1. 88, n. 
 
 Sthexelus, insipidity' of his language, how represented hy 
 Aristophanes - - - - - - ii. 302, 303 
 
 Strabo, of Homers mixture of truth with fiction, ii. 348. — 
 
 of the end of Poetic fiction 
 
 372 
 
 Strophe and Antistrop^e, set to the same melody, i. 269, n. 
 Surprise, heightens passion - - - ii. 73, and n. 
 
 Syrinx, or Pipe of Pan, i. 219, 220. — a South Sea instru- 
 ment, 220. — two different instruments of this name men- 
 tioned by Jut. Pollux, 221, 222.— its tone characterized in 
 the Homeric hymn to Mercury, 223. — doubts and con- 
 jecttrres concerning the instrucnent of this name mentioned 
 
 by Aristotle 
 
 220 — 225 
 
 T. 
 
 ii. 183—186 
 
 4i. 178, 179 
 
 i. 332. ii. 45 
 
 Tale of Alcinous -' - - - 
 
 Tsx^il^iop ------ 
 
 Terence - . - - _ _ 
 
 Terror— Aristotle seems to have thought it sometimes 
 pushed to excess by the Greek Tragedians - ii. 127, 128 
 
 Tetralogia, Tragic, the dramas that composed it performed 
 on different festivals - - - - - i^i. 332 — ^336 
 
 Theocritus, his 15th Idyl, an admirable example of the 
 close and natural delineation of common life, i. 246. — his 
 description. Idyl 7, not of the landscape kind - 45, ». 
 
 Theodorus, the Tragic actor, his voice - - i. 62, n. 
 
 Theophrastus, of the efl'ectof passion upon the raelQdy of 
 speech, i. 78, n, — of the dance called xo^^»| - 249, ». 
 
 Thomson, 
 
 
 '497 
 ii. 292, 293 
 
 i. 287, n. 
 
 ii. 425, 426 
 
 i-343 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 Thomson, fills up a sketch of Virgil 
 ©o^yjSiir ------ 
 
 Toup, an emendation of his considered - 
 Trachini^ of Sophocles - - - 
 
 Tragedy not distinguished, originally, from Ca?nedy, i. 308, 
 309 and n. — its r;?rf, according to Aristotle, ii. 127, 128 -^ 
 Its effect does not depend upon our ignorance of its catas- 
 trophe 223.-its different species, <i2J^.-not perfectly se- 
 parated from Comedy in Aristotle's time, 233.-how much 
 Its effect depends on the fable, 248, and ;.. -Aristotle's pre- 
 ference of It to the Epic Poem considered - 451, 452 
 
 Tragedy, I're^c/i - - i. 310, n. ii. 3,. 8-2. 212. 301 
 
 Tragedy, Gree^ the Lyric, exceeded the Dialogue, part of 
 
 It before /Eschylus 1. 297.-its .^or. .//a/o^oV or r.^!- 
 
 thrZ'J^'f ''^' ^'^^f' '\ ^7-] 300. -whether s^ng 
 throughout, u. i9-28.-what parts of it most likely to 
 W been spoken, 24.-absurd to attribute to it the delicacy 
 of the French stage, 82_85.-vain attempts of Dacier 
 Brumous &c. to divide \imio five acts, 94 -its dict'on; 
 299—301. 321— observations on the progress and im- 
 provements of its diction - - / ^. 324-326 
 
 Tragedy, the infernal .... y^ 233-235 
 
 ^M^'^tTh ^'''^' "^^ V^ ^^ represented as correct and per- 
 ll r^ ' '• 3»o— their inequahties, and intermixture of 
 low and comic dialogue, 300-309. ii. 233.-«their popular 
 and rragi-comic origin maybe traced in them, i. 308, 
 r^-; 5l''"T*'" '^^^^ occasions their length miriht be 
 
 om tl'/s ''1 "Tr;/' ^ ^^- 337.-said'to hav'e been 
 
 iometimes played by the hour-glass, 54. -conjecture as 
 
 to the number performed in one^day,' a'n'd to one' audie^: 
 
 tuX T '"' 33i-34i.~of very different 
 
 ^ ' ■ - - - 336, n, 
 
 rRAci-CoMEDY, Greek - - - . i. 303-309 
 
 Translation Don Quixote's notion of it,i. 28,, ^.-some- 
 times unavpidably paraphrastical - - ii. 210,211 
 
 TiiocuAic tetrameter, how characterized by Aristotle, i. 249. 
 3i3.--though a safyric measure, does not occur in the 
 only satyric drama extant 3,.; 
 
 TzETZES,/o^n ii^,g; 
 
 VOL. 11. 
 
 K K 
 
i 
 
 498 
 
 INDEX IL 
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 499 
 
 hi 
 
 U. V. 
 
 Valckenaer, of the Mimes of Sophron - - i. 244 
 
 Valerius Maximus, his account of theatrical riots at 
 Rome - i. 227 
 
 Vatry, Abbe, his presumptive proof that the Greek Tragedy 
 was sung throughout - - - - ii. 22, 23 
 
 y^i? -ii. 445 
 
 Velleius Paterculus, of Homer - - - ii. 330 
 
 Verse, the difference hetween it, and well measured prose, 
 less with the antients than with us, i. 233, and «.— essential 
 to Poetry in the general opinion of the antients, 238, 239. 
 i\. 360, 361. — included in Aristotle's general idea of 
 Poetry »• 239- 289 
 
 V1CTORIU8, his commentary quoted, i. 3S, n. ii. 57, 58, n. 
 230, 231. 370. et passim. 
 
 ViLLANY, atrocious, its effect in Tragedy, ii. 412, 413, 
 and n.— Plato's and Rowsseau's idea of the exhibition 
 of it "• 13« 
 
 Virgil, i. 6, n. 22. 25, 26. 45, n. ii. 291, 292. 452, n.— hii 
 ear, i. 9, n.— his description cf a plough, how tar imitative 
 description ------- 44»''* 
 
 Virtue, (jL^t-rn,) - - - its extensive signification in antient 
 writers ----- i. 277, 278, and n. 
 
 Ulysses - - - ridiculous story of his feigned mad- 
 ness, i. 125, n.— his comic cowardice in the Ajax of 
 Sophocles, 307.— was the subject of many dramas, comic, 
 as well as tragic - - - - " - 11. 192 
 
 Unities, strict Dramatic, of time and place, have no autho- 
 rity from Aristotle, i. 337— 34^-— "^r from tht constant 
 practice of the Greek Poets - - - 341—344 
 
 Unity of time, a remarkable instance ©f its violation in 
 Sophocles *• 343 
 
 \5^\iY fif Fable, Aristotle's distinction between that, and the 
 unity of Hero, defended - - - - ii. 54> 55 
 
 Voltaire, his censure of the Oedipm Tyrannus, as prolonged 
 beyond its proper end, ii. 46.— mistakes Aristotle, 130.— 
 
 Y»«9ir0«. ' »*»• 4091 410 
 
 W. 
 
 Warton, Dr. - - - - i. 211, «. ii. 84, 85.— of a stanza in 
 Spenser - - . - . . - i. 19, «. 
 
 Warton, Mr. - - - - his censure of the prologue of 
 ^^'^"S ii. 97, and«. 
 
 WiNCKELMAN, Ahbc - - - - - i. 5I W. 
 
 Women, Aristotle's character of them - - ii. 137 
 
 Wood, Preface to his Easay on the Orig, Genius of Homer, 
 quoted - - . " . - . . i. 54, w! 
 
 Words, obsolete, to what class of Aristotle's poetic words 
 they are to be referred - - - - ii. 316 
 
 Xengphanes, fragments of, ii. 382, 383.— his idea of mo- 
 derate drinking ----__ ngo 
 
 Xenophon ii.48,n. 
 
 Zeuxis - 
 
 z. 
 
 - i. 200, n. ii. 50. 405, 406, and n. 
 ".395 
 
 TH E END. 
 
 London : Printed by Luke Hansard & Soni^ 
 near Lincoln's-lnn Fields. 
 
^ 
 
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 
 
 e d^te ina-*»tP<1 below- 
 
 DUE DATE 
 
 m 1 4 i|so 
 
 
 
 DEC 2 1 ^ 
 
 •"•-•i , 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 201-6503 
 
 
 Printed 
 in USA 
 
 i 
 
 00 
 
 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 
 114571501 
 
 r 
 
 It 
 
 /; 
 
 J 
 / 
 
 
 
 to 
 
 < 
 
 00 ^ 
 
 CJ 
 
 Q 
 00 
 
 < 
 
 #-: 
 
T*:i:^^t*>'%'fm*titii4i*. 
 
 Tft^r'^'TT^'^? 
 
 ' • 1 
 
 \J\ 
 
 ii^ 
 
 iiU»m4Hi-.