: ations of blind chance; he will be inclined to fay, This ought not to be. I give for an example the Romeo and Juliet of Shakespear, where the fatal catastrophe is occafioned by Friar Laurence's coming to the monument a minute too late: we are vexed at the unlucky chance, and go away diffatisfied. Such impreffions, which ought not to be cherished, are a fufficient reafon for excluding ftories of that kind from the theatre. The misfortunes of a virtuous perfon, arifing from neceffary caufes or from a chain of unavoidable circumftances, will be confidered in a different light: chance making an impreffion of anarchy and mifrule, produces always a gloomy prof pect on the contrary, a regular chain of caufes and effects directed by the general laws of nature, never fails to fuggeft the hand of Providence; to which we fubmit without refentment, being confcious that fubmiffion is our duty *. For that reason, we are not difgufted with the diftreffes of Voltaire's Mariamne, though redoubled on her till her death, without the leaft fault or failing on her part: her misfortunes are owing to a caufe extremely natural, and not unfrequent, the jealousy of a barbarous husband. The fate of Desdemona in the Moor of Venice, affects us in the fame manner. We are not fo easily reconciled to the fate of Cordelia in King Lear the caufes of her misfortune are by no means fo evident, as to exclude the gloomy notion of chance. In short, a perfect character fuffering under misfortunes, is qualified for being the fubject of a pathetic tragedy, provided chance be excluded. Nor is a perfect character altogether inconfiftent with a moral tragedy it may fuccefsfully be introduced as an underpart, fuppofing the chief place to be filled with an imperfect character from which a moral can be drawn. This is the cafe of Defdemona and Mariamne just now mentioned; and it is the cafe of Monimia and Belvide ra, in Otway's two tragedies, The Orphan, and Venice preferv'd. I had an early opportunity to unfold a curious doctrine, That fable operates on our paffions, by repre VOL II. L fenting * See effays on the principles of morality, edit. 2. p. 291. fenting its events as paffing in our fight, and by deluding us into a conviction of reality *. Hence, in epic and dramatic compofitions, every circumftance ought to be employ'd that may promote the delufion; fuch as the borrowing from hiftory fome noted event, with the addition of circumstances that may answer the author's purpose: the principal facts are known to be true; and we are difpofed to extend our belief to every circumftance. But in chufing a fubject that makes a figure in hiftory, greater precaution is neceffary than where the whole is a fiction. In the latter cafe there is full scope for invention: the author is under no restraint other than that the characters and incidents be just copies of nature. But where the ftory is founded on truth, no circumstances must be added, but fuch as connect natuTally with what are known to be true; hiftory may be fupplied, but must not be contradicted: further, the fubject chofen must be diftant in time, or at least in place; for the familiarity of recent perfons and events ought to be avoided. Familiarity ought more efpecially to be avoided in an epic poem, the peculiar character of which is dignity and elevation: modern manners make but a poor figure in fuch a poem †. : After Voltaire, no writer, it is probable, will think of rearing an epic poem upon a recent event in the hiftory of his own country. But an event of that kind is perhaps not altogether unqualified for tragedy it was admitted in Greece; and Shakefpear has employ'd it fuccessfully in feveral of his pieces. One advantage it poffeffes above fiction, that of more readily engaging our belief, which tends above any other particular to raise *Chap. 2. part 1. fect. 7. + I would not from this obfervation be thought to undervalue modern manners. The roughnefs, plainness, and impetuofity of antient manners, may fhew better in an epic poem, without being better fitted for fociety. But without regard to this circumftance, it is the familiarity of modern manners that unqualifies them for a lofty fubject. The dignity of our prefent manners, will be better understood in future ages, when they are no longer familiar, raise our sympathy. The scene of comedy is generally laid at home; familiarity is no objection; and we are peculiarly fenfible of the ridicule of our own manners. After a proper fubject is chofen, the dividing it into parts requires fome art. The conclufion of a book in an epic poem, or of an act in a play, cannot be altogether arbitrary; nor be intended for fo flight a purpofe as to make the parts of equal length. The fuppofed paufe at the end of every book, and the real pause at the end of every act, ought always to coincide with fome paufe in the action. In this refpect, a dramatic or epic poem ought to resemble a fentence or period in language, divided into members that are distinguished from each other by proper paufes; or it ought to refemble a piece of mufic, having a full close at the end, preceded by imperfect clofes that contribute to the me lody. Every act in a dramatic poem ought therefore to close with fome incident that makes a pause in the action; for otherwife there can be no pretext for interrupting the reprefentation: it would be abfurd to break off in the very heat of action; against which every one would exclaim: the abfurdity ftill remains, though the action relents, if it be not actually fufpended for fome time. This rule is alfo applicable to an epic poem though there, a deviation from the rule is lefs remarkable; because it is in the reader's power to hide the abfurdity, by proceeding inftantly to another book. The first book of Paradife loft ends without any close, perfect or imperfect: it breaks off abruptly, where Satan, feated on his throne, is prepared to harangue the convocated hoft of the fall'n angels; and the second book begins with the fpeech. Milton feems to have copied the Eneid, of which the two firft books are divided much in the fame manner. Neither is there any proper pause at the end of the fifth book of the Eneid. There is no proper pause at the end of the feventh book of Paradife loft, nor at the end of the eleventh. This branch of the subject shall be clofed with a general rule, That action being the fundamental part of every compofition whether epic or dramatic, the fentiments and tone of language ought to be fubfervient to L 2 the Ch. XXII. the action, so as to appear natural, and proper for the occafion. The application of this rule to our modern plays, would reduce the bulk of them to a skeleton *. After carrying on together epic and dramatic compofitions, I proceed to handle them feparately, and to mention circumftances peculiar to each; beginning with the epic kind. In a theatrical entertainment, which employs both the eye and the ear, it would be a grofs abfurdity to introduce upon the ftage fuperior beings in tion. a vifible ** En général il y a beaucoup de difcours et peu d'action fur la fcene Francoife. Quelqu'un difoit en fortant d'une piece de Denis le Tiran, Je n'ai rien vu, mais j'ai entendu force paroles. Voila ce qu'on peut dire en fortant des pieces Francoifes. Racine et Corneille avec tout leur génie ne font eux mêmes que des parleurs, et leur fucceffeur eft le premier qui, à l'imitation des Anglois, ait ofé mettre quelquefois la fcene en repréfentaCommunément tout fe paffe en beaux dialogues bien agencés, bien ronflans, où l'on voit d'abord que le premier foin de chaque interlocuteur eft toujours celui de briller. Prefque tout s'enonce en maximes générales. Quelque agités qu'ils puiffent être, ils fongent toujours plus au public qu'à eux-mêmes; une fentence leur coute moins qu'un fentiment; les pieces de Racine et de Moliere exceptées, le je ett prefque auffi fcrupuleufement banni de la fcene Francoife que des écrits de Port-Royal; et les paffions humaines, auffi modeftes que l'humilité Chrétienne, n'y parlent jamais que par on. Il y a encore une certaine dignité manierée dans le gefte et dans le propos, qui ne permet jamais à la paffion de parler exactement fon language, ni à l'auteur de revetir fon perfonage, et de fe tranfporter au lieu de la fcene, mais le tient toujours enchainé fur le théatre, et fous les yeux des fpectateurs. Auffi les fituations les plus vives ne lui fontelles jamais oublier un bel arrangement de phrafes, ni des attitudes élégantes; et fi le defefpoir lui plonge un poignard dans le cœur, non content d'obferver la décence en tombant comme Polixene, il ne tombe point; la décence le maintient debout après la mort, et tous ceux qui viennent d'expirer s'en retournent l'instant da'près fur leurs jambes.. Rouffeau. a vifible fhape. There is not place for fuch objection in an epic poem; and Boileau, with many other critics, declares ftrongly for that fort of machinery in an epic poem. But waving authority, which is apt to impofe upon the judgment, let us draw what light we can from reafon. I begin with a preliminary remark, That this matter is but indiftinctly handled by critics: the poetical privilege of animating infenfible objects for enlivening a defcription, is very different from what is termed machinery, where deities, angels, devils, or other fupernatural powers, are introduced as real perfonages, mixing in the action, and contributing to the catastrophe, and yet these two things are conftantly jum'bled together in the reafoning. The former is founded on a natural principle † : but can the latter claim the fame authority? fo far from it, that nothing is more unnatural. Its effects, at the fame time, are deplorable First, it gives an air of fiction to the whole; and prevents that impreffion of reality which is requifite to intereft our affections, and to move our pallions §: which of itself is fufficient to explode machinery, whatever entertainment it may afford to readers of a fantallic tafte or irregular imagination. And, next, were it poffible, by difguifing the fiction, to delude us into a notion of reality, which I think can hardly be; an infuperable objection would ftill remain, which is, that the aim or end of an epic poem can never be attained in any perfection where machinery is introduced; for an evident reason, that virtuous emotions cannot be raised fuccessfully but by the actions of thofe who are endued with paffions and affections like our own, that is, by human actions; and as for moral inftruction, it is clear, that none can be drawn from beings who act not upon the fame principles with us. A fable in fop's manner is no objection to this reasoning: his lions, bulls, and goats, are truly men under difguife: they act and feel in every respect as human beings; and the moral we draw is founded on that fuppofition. Homer, it is L 3 Third part of his art of poetry. † Chap. 20. fect. 1. See chap. 2. part 1. fect. 7. true, |