consequently, should have displayed the same qualities of excellence. To say that he excels Butler, for instance, because he has more nature and simplicity, is, I shall not hesitate to assert, downright absurdity; because Butler intended that his errant knight should have neither one nor other of these qualities. Absurd, however, as it may be to compare Spenser and Butler with each other, it is on the same principle of absurdity that so many critics of the present day prefer Spenser to Pope, and the romantic school of Spenser to the classic school of Pope and Addison. In calling this principle absurd, I am aware I impeach the infallability of the first critics of the age, but I am not fearful of the result. I have said what I meant, and I am prepared to support it.

To proceed, then, in our inquiry, I shall examine what qualities of style properly belong to the "Fairy Queen," and how far these qualities are met with in that poem. I confine myself to the "Fairy Queen," because it is the poem on which his poetical fame is founded, and which is chiefly quoted by all his admirers. My limits will not permit me to extend my observations to his other poems; but the reader must perceive that they are as applicable to the one as to the other."

The "Fairy Queen," is a series of Jove adventures alternately retarded and promoted by magic plots and Ichivalric deeds. The scenes are chiefly laid in the country, a circumstance which gives frequent opportunities of descriptive scenery. The characters are in general of royal or noble parentage, and engaged in great and arduous designs. Here then is the subject of the "Fairy Queen." Let us now see what are the qualities which constitute the excellence of such a poem. The first quality appears to be that which most happily describes the emotions of love, which speaks the language of the heart, and paints, in glowing colours, the sacred thrill of kindred sympathies. Magic plots, and chivalric deeds, require a strong and vigorous imagination; while descriptive scenery requires a microscopic attention to the appearances of nature, and a corresponding simplicity of manner in describing these ap.

pearances, exactly as they present themselves to the imaginative faculties. With the language of love, the first of these qualities, Spenser was evidently unacquainted; though he represents the Red Cross Knight encountering danger in all its terrific and subduing aspects for the love of fair Una, not a word passes between these devoted lovers, but what they might express in the presence of the world. It is from their_actions alone we can discover they had any regard for each other, but each of them appears to have been too proud, stately, and unbending; too much of a Gothic character, to suffer his affections to be known to the other. There is every reason to believe that the stately pedantry of feudal times, when every man was a lord or a vassal, an imperious ruler, or an abject slave, proved not merely a restraint to the free exercise and expression of natural affection, but extinguished, in a very great degree, those congenial sympathies which unite kindred spirits in the bonds of love, wherever the heart is left to the free and unrestrained impulse of its own spontaneous emotions. If so, it is but fair to attribute Spenser's failure to the vices of the time in which he wrote.

It is certain that in feudal times we hear of more heroism and chivalry enlisted on the side of females, and of defenceless innocence, than we can boast of at present; but are we equally certain, that the human breast was then capable of a purer love, and a tenderer affection, than belongs to the degenerate progeny of the nineteenth century? Of this we have great doubt; and we doubt also, whether the heroism and romantic bravery, then displayed, was not rather the effect of that uncultivated, barbarian pride, that haughty, unsocial, and uncompromising spirit, which was the generation of ignorance and intellectual gloom, than the offspring of those milder affections, which characterise our commerce with the fair sex at present. A savage, ferocious spirit is, by its very nature, inclined to a turbulent, and tumultous life; the homely sweets of peace, the elegant delights of retirement, the secret charms of science, the kindling raptures of the bright-eyed muse, the softer attrac

tions of those arts and intellectual pursuits, which subdue the grosser propensities of our nature, which win the soul to chaster contemplation, and refine the senses with more exquisite sympathies, were totally unknown to the chivalrous heroes of the sixteenth century. If they frequently fought in defence of innorence, it is a proof that innocence was then more frequently in danger than it is at present, a circumstance which could only arise from the brutal and untamed ferocity of the times. It may also be added, that if innocence stood in no need of their protection, they would not still have desisted from fighting. Duels were so common in France, even in the beginning of the seventeenth century, when Spenser was no more, that Houssaie in his Memoires Historiques, Vol. II. p. 259, informs us, that the first news inquired for every morning when the people met in the streets or public places, were generally,--Who fought yesterday? And in the afternoon,-Who has fought this morning? If the celebrated Bouteville heard any person extol the bravery of another, even in the most familiar conversation, he immediately addressed him in these words: "Sir, I am told you are a brave fellow; we must fight toge ther." There remained no alternative but a duel, or the most insulting abuse. That the language of love, and the expression of native feeling should be unknown at such a time, is not at all surprising; and, therefore, true criticism will refer Spenser's failure, in pourtraying the softer affections, to the vices of the time in which he wrote.

In making this concession, however, we concede more to his admirers than they can justly claim. Warton who, we believe, was the first to bring him into repute, and who prefers him to Pope, founds his preference on a comparison between the "Fairy Queen," and the "Rape of the Lock." From the former he derives "sweeter transport" than from the latter, because he finds more of nature in beholding deserted Una wandering forlorn through wasteful solitudes, than in beholding "the fated fair," in the Rape of the Lock," launching "in

all the lustre of brocade." I have already shewn the absurdity of comparing poems of a different character, which always require a different treatment, to give them all that excellence of which they are capable. The scenes of nature, it is true, are more frequently placed before us in the former than in the latter of these poems; but Mr. Warton and all his followers must be well aware, that the design of the "Rape of the Lock" was to expose the follies of fashionable life, and, consequently, that Pope was prevented, by the very nature of the poem, to embellish it with the "wasteful solitudes and lurid heaths," that so peculiarly belonged to the wild and romantic character of the "Fairy Queen." To introduce rural scenes and natural affections into the "Rape of the Lock," would be, in fact, to thrust nature out of it altogether; for nothing can be natural and im proper at the same moment; and nothing could be more improper, nothing more at variance with the design of the "Rape of the Lock," than those descriptions of nature, the absence of which is so much regretted by Mr. Warton and his followers, His criticism is not, therefore, worth repeating, though it has been echoed, over and over again, by the disciples of the Spenserian school. If Spenser owes his fame to the love-lorn Una, why not estimate the fame of Pope by the love-lorn Eloisa? Why not select from his poetical works such a poem as would bear a comparison with the "Fairy Queen?" Does Una excite a warmer transport than the impassioned Eloisa? Does she breathe a tenderer love, or a purer affection? Are the secret operations of a wounded spirit, a heart entangled in the witcheries of love, more deeply probed, more naturally delineated, or more clearly unveiled, in the

Fairy Queen, " than in Pope's Eloisa? If they be, give Spenser the prize of poetic pre-eminence ; but whoever thinks they are, has never consulted his own feelings, and is, therefore, unqualified to offer any opinion on the subject. He merely thinks so, because he has been told so by others; but the slave of authority is not worth consulting. Pope is as much superior to Spenser, in the language of love, as Shakspeare

is to the author of " Bertrand." In Spenser love assumes too stately and formal a character, and never veils itself in the softer guise and yielding languishments of natural and unfeigned affection. The consequence is, that in the “Fairy Queen,” there is a total abandonment of nature, and even a considerable portion of conceit in many of the love scenes. When Prince Arthur meets with Una, and requests to become acquainted with the cause of her affliction, the following dialogue takes place between them:

«O! but," quoth she, "great griefe will not be tould,

And can more easily be thought than

said."

"Right so," quoth he, "but he that never would,

Could never will to might gives

greatest aid."

at hearing of her lover's captivity. It matters little that her replies to Prince Arthur are true, if they be out of place. I have already observed, that what is improper cannot be natural; and therefore truth and nature are found to be frequently at variance. A writer is not to consider, for a moment, whether what he expresses be true: his business is to ascertain whether it be a truth applicable to the time, place, and circumstance to which it is applied. Una would not seem, from this dialogue, to be at that instant overwhelmed with grief and affliction; for she appears evidently more desirous of displaying her knowledge than of describing her sorrows to a knight whose only object was to restore her lost peace of mind, by rescuing her lover from captivity. Her replies to the prince are, therefore,

a perfect tissue of conceit, and would never have proceeded from the reckless heart of a woe-worn, despairing lover. If, then, it be allowed that the highest province of poetry is to probe the inmost recesses of the heart, to watch all its secret movements and vibrations, and the still more secret and less perceptible causes from which they originate; to trace the varying aspect which different passions assume in different characters, under the diversified influences of times and situations, it must also be allowed that Pope is that the distance between them is so not only superior to Spenser, but immensely great, that no task could be more ungrateful to an admirer of Spenser, than to enter into the comparison. By an admirer of Spenser, I do not mean, in this place, a professed disciple of the Spenserian school, but a rational admirer, who, unfettered by the thraldom of schools, or the canons of "invariable prin ciples of poetry," knows to sepa. rate his virtues from his vices, his beauties from his defects; and whose admiration of the one causes him to forget, not to ignore, the existence of the other. The time in which he wrote, as I have already observed, rendered it almost impossible that he should excel in the language of love. In the first of the three qualities, therefore, which I have shewn necessary to the excellence of such a poem as the "Fairy Queen," Spenser was evidently deficient. Let us examine how far he has excelled in the other two.

A strong and vigorous imagination is the quality, which I have observed was necessary to the creation of magic plots, and the description of chivalric deeds. In this quality, Spenser has eminently excelled. His mind was formed to expatiate at large over the face of nature; to create solitudes and wilds, peopled only by the fairy offspring of his own imagination; to invent plots, and scenes, and circumstances, and situations, that could have presented themselves only to a bold, restless, and expatiatory spirit; a spirit which explores every recess and winding in the private retreats and romantic seclusions of nature, and discovers a warrior or a fairy in every recess. The mind of Spenser

would seem to have been stamped by nature with romantic character, and therefore he has excelled most of his successors in the description of romantic situations, and the accomplishment of heroic designs. His ideas of chivalry were so clear and distinct, so characteristic of the time in which he wrote, that his heroes are all fit subjects for the canvass. They seem to live and move, and wave their ensigns of destruction in our presence. The colouring is so faithful, and the images so true to nature, that they appear to lose their, imaginary character, and to assume not only a real, but a renewed ex-, istence. Of this the instances are, so numerous, and the portraits in each are executed with so masterly a hand, and in such bold and ani-. mated colouring, that perhaps it may he sufficient to quote the first stanza of the first book, where the, Red Cross Knight, or the Champion of England is introduced on his fiery

courser.

to throw

2S

the life. When the Prince died, he informs us that the "Faery Queene" brought this shield

descended from a race of patriots, to some other country, where he is brought up and educated, ignorant of the land of his fathers, and

We

I admit then, freely, that Spenser excels most of his successors in the creations of an imagination at once vigorous, versatile, and correct. Milton indeed displays a more expanded grasp of mind, and lifts us to the contemplation of sublimer prospects, but his pictures are overcharged, and he seldom presents nature to our eyes in the simple, chaste, and unaffected colouring of Spenser. In the "Fairy Queen" we instantly, and instinctively recognize the reality and truth of the images which are placed before us. have no difficulty in conceiving and picturing to ourselves the originals which they represent; but Milton too often confuses us with images of undefined and undefinable being, which leave no distinct impression on the mind, and fill it with vague, and unembodied conceptions. Fancy then would seem to have been born with Spenser; and indeed, if it were possible to come into life with the inheritance of a romantic mind, I should not hesitate to admit, that Spenser derived his romantic genius from this original source. Nothing, however, can be more unphilosophic than to suppose a man born with any intellectual propensity as a genius, for painting, poetry, astronomy, music, &c. If a person be born with a natural propensity for painting, the propensity necessarily exists before he knows, or can conceive what painting is. This species of propensity is a perfect riddle; we cannot assert that we have a propensity for any thing till we first perceive the thing, and perceive also our attachment to it; for if we do not perceive ourselves inclined to a certain object or pursuit, how can we pretend to say that we have a propensity for it, in as much as all our propensities, and all our knowledge are made known to us through the medium of our perceptions. It is a popular error, however, to say we are born with a propensity for certain arts, we are born with a love of our country. Remove a child

formidable enemy. At least it is certain that he will have no more attachment for it than he has for any other nation upon earth, except what may happen to arise from circumstances unconnected with his birth. Such an attachment must be perfectly uninfluenced by any original laws of his nature, because it owes its sole existence to adventitious circumstances which might have never occurred, and in which case the attachment would have never been felt. Locke has long since exploded the doctrine of innate ideas: the same reasoning applied to innate propensities, would easily prove the absurdity of supposing a child possessing a propensity for an art of which he is totally ignorant. Propensities, like ideas, are produced by the agency of sensible and external being. In our fortieth year we have no propensity for a thing which we never saw, and of which we never heard; and we must presume it fair to suppose, that what we have no propensity for at this age, cannot be an innate or natural propensity; and yet it is certain that we may become strongly attached to this and many other objects and pursuits after this age, though we never felt, nor possibly could feel, the slightest propensity for them before, because we had been totally unacquainted with them. It is then as absurd to say poeta nascitur non fit, as to maintain that a person deeply in love with a woman was born with a natural affection for her. No poet can be more attached to his muse than an ardent lover is to his

mistress. Why not suppose one atattachment innate as well as the other? If the lover, however, had never seen his mistress, he would not have regarded her a rush, which evidently would not be the case if his attachment had been innate, and originally derived from the hand of nature. As then we have no propensity for any object or pursuit, till we are first made acquainted with it, and as we are not conscious of forming any acquaintances before our birth, except an instinctive