22

in order to

ages and

Of Nature far as possible, (at least in all their great performances), in Poetry, those peculiarities that derive their beauty from mere fashion; and therefore their works must give pleasure, and appear elegant as long as men are capable of formplease all ing general ideas, and of judging from them. The last-mentioned incomparable artist is particularly obcountries. servant of children, whose looks and attitudes, being less under the controul of art and local manners, are more characteristical of the species than those of men and women. This field of observation has supplied him with many fine figures, particularly that most exquisite one of Comedy, struggling for and winning (for who could resist her!) the affections of Garrick :—a figure which could never have occurred to the imagination of a painter who had confined his views to grown persons looking and moving in all the formality of polite life;-—a figure which in all ages and countries would be pronounced natural and engaging ;whereas those human forms that we see every day bowing and courtesying, and strutting, and turning out their toes secundum artem, and dressed in ruffles, and wigs, and flounces, and hoop-petticoats, and full-trimmed suits, would appear elegant no further than the present fashions are propagated, and no longer than they remain unaltered.

23

The period There is, in the progress of human society, as well in the pro- as of human life, a period to which it is of great imgress of hu-portance for the higher order of poets to attend, and man society from which they will do well to take their characters, epic and and manners, and the era of their events; namely, tragic poets that wherein men are raised above savage life, and conshould at- siderably improved by arts, government, and conver

to which

tend.

sation; but not advanced so high in the ascent towards politeness, as to have acquired a habit of disguising their thoughts and passions, and of reducing their behaviour to the uniformity of the mode. Such was the period which Homer had the good fortune (as a poet) to live in, and to celebrate. This is the period at which the manners of men are most picturesque, and their adventures most romantic. This is the period when the appetites unperverted by luxury, the powers unnervated by effeminacy, and the thoughts disengaged from artificial restraint, will, in persons of similar dispositions and circumstances, operate in nearly the same way; and when, consequently, the characters of particular men will approach to the nature of poetical or general ideas, and, if well imitated, give pleasure to the whole, or at least to a great majority of mankind. But a character tinctured with the fashions of polite life would not be so generally interesting. Like a human figure adjusted by a modern dancing-master, and dressed by a modern tailor, it may have a good effect in satire, comedy, or farce: but if introduced into the higher poetry, it would be admired by those only who had learned to admire nothing but present fashions, and by them no longer than the present fashions lasted; and to all the rest of the world would appear awkward, unaffecting, and perhaps ridiculous. But Achilles and Sarpedon, Diomede and Hector, Nestor and Ulysses, as drawn by Homer, must in all ages, independently on fashion, command the attention and admiration of mankind. These have the qualities that are universally known to belong to human nature; whereas the modern fine gentleman is distinguished by qualities that belong only to a particular age, society, and cor

ner of the world. We speak not of moral or intellec- Of Poetical tual virtues, which are objects of admiration to every Characters, age; but of those outward accomplishments, and that particular temperature of the passions, which form the most perceptible part of a human character.—As, therefore, the politician, in discussing the rights of mankind, must often allude to an imaginary state of nature; so the poet who intends to raise admiration, pity, terror, and other important emotions, in the generality of mankind, especially in those readers whose minds are most improved, must take his pictures of life and manners, rather from the heroic period we now speak of, than from the ages of refinement; and must therefore (to repeat the maxim of Aristotle)" exhibit things, not as they are, but as they might be."

SECT. IV. Of Poetical Characters.

24

characters

HORACE seems to think, that a competent know- Requisites ledge of moral philosophy will fit an author for assign- to the deing the suitable qualities and duties to each poetical neation of personage: (Art. Poet. v. 309.—316.). The maxim poetical may be true, as far as mere morality is the aim of the poet; but cannot be understood to refer to the delineation of poetical characters in general: for a thorough acquaintance with all the moral philosophy in the world would not have enabled Blackmore to paint such a personage as Homer's Achilles, Shakespeare's Othello, or the Satan of Paradise Lost. To a competency of moral science, there must be added an extensive knowledge of mankind, a warm and elevated imagination, and the greatest sensibility of heart, before a genius can be formed equal to so difficult a task. Horace is indeed so sensible of the danger of introducing a new character in poetry, that he even discourages the attempt, and advises the poet rather to take his persons from the ancient authors, or from tradition: Ibid. v. 119.-130.

To conceive the idea of a good man, and to invent and support a great poetical character, are two very different things, however they may seem to have been confounded by some late critics. The first is easy to any person sufficiently instructed in the duties of life: the last is perhaps of all the efforts of human genius. the most difficult; so very difficult, that, though attempted by many, Homer, Shakespeare, and Milton, are almost the only authors who have succeeded in it. But characters of perfect virtue are not the most proper for poetry. It seems to be agreed, that the Deity should not be introduced in the machinery of a poetical fable. To ascribe to him words and actions of our own invention, seems very unbecoming; nor can a poetical description, that is known to be, and must of necessity be, infinitely inadequate, ever satisfy the human mind. Poetry, according to the best critics,, 25 is an imitation of human action; and therefore poetical characters, though elevated, should still partake of though ele the passions and frailties of humanity. If it were not should parfor the vices of some principal personages, the Iliad take of the would not be either so interesting or so moral: the frailties of most moving and most eventful parts of the Eneid are humanity; those that describe the effects of unlawful passion :the most instructive tragedy in the world, we mean Macbeth, is founded in crimes of dreadful enormity: -and if Milton had not taken into his plan the fall of our first parents, as well as their state of innocence,

Which,

vated,

Of Poetical his divine poem must have wanted much of its pathos, Characters. and could not have been (what it now is) such a treasure of important knowledge, as no other uninspired writer ever comprehended in so small a compass.Virtue, like truth, is uniform and unchangeable. We may anticipate the part a good man will act in any given circumstances: and therefore the events that depend on such a man must be less surprising than those which proceed from passion; the vicissitudes whereof it is frequently impossible to foresee. From the violent temper of Achilles, in the Iliad, spring many great incidents; which could not have taken place, if he had been calm and prudent like Ulysseз, or pious and patriotic like Encas: his rejection of Agamemnon's offers, in the ninth book, arises from the violence of his resentment; his yielding to the request of Patroclus, in the 16th, from the violence of his friendship (if we may so speak) counteracting his resentment; and his restoring to Priam the dead body of Hector, in the 24th, from the violence of bis affection to his own aged father, and his regard to the command of Jupiter, counteracting, in some measure, both his sorrow for his friend, and his thirst for vengeance. -Besides, except where there is some degree of vice, it pains us too exquisitely to see misfortune; and therefore poetry would cease to have a pleasurable influence over our tender passions, if it were to exhibit virtuous characters only. And as in life, evil is necessary to our moral probation, and the possibility of error to our intellectual improvement; so bad or mixed characters are useful in poetry, to give to the good such opposition, as puts them upon displaying and exercising their virtue.

26

whilst the

-

All those personages, however, in whose fortune personages the poet means that we should be interested, must have

in whose fate the

that we

agreeable and admirable qualities to recommend them poet means to our regard. And perhaps the greatest difficulty in the art lies in suitably blending those faults which the should be poet finds it expedient to give to any particular hero, interested with such moral, intellectual, or corporeal accomplishought to have good ments, as may engage our esteem, pity, or admiraand great tion, without weakening our hatred of vice, or love qualities. of virtue. In most of our novels, and in many of our plays, it happens unluckily, that the hero of the piece is so captivating, as to incline us to be indulgent to every part of his character, the bad as well as the good. But a great master knows how to give the proper direction to human sensibility; and, without any perversion of our faculties, or any confusion of right and wrong, to make the same person the object of very different emotions, of pity and batred, of admiration and horror. Who does not esteem and admire Macbeth for his courage and generosity? who does not pity him when beset with all the terrors of a pregnant imagination, superstitious temper, and awakened conscience? who does not abhor him as a monster of

cruelty, treachery, and ingratitude? His good quali- Of Potical ties, by drawing us near to him, make us, as it were, Characters. eye-witnesses of his crime, and give us a fellow-feeling of his remorse; and therefore, his example cannot fail to have a powerful effect in cherishing our love of virtue, and fortifying our minds against criminal impressions; whereas, had he wanted those good qualities, we should have kept aloof from his concerns, or viewed them with a superficial attention; in which case his example would have had little more weight than that of the robber, of whom we know nothing, but that he was tried, condemned, and executed.-Satan, in Paradise Lost, is a character drawn and supported with the most consummate judgment. The old furies and demons, Hecate, Tisiphone, Alecto, Megara, are objects of unmixed and unmitigated abhorrence; Tityus, Enceladus, and their brethren, are remarkable for nothing but impiety, deformity, and vastness of size; Pluto is, at best, an insipid personage; Mars, a hairbrained ruffian; Tasso's infernal tyrant, an ugly and overgrown monster:-but in the Miltonic Satan, we are forced to admire the majesty of the ruined archangel, at the same time that we detest the unconquerable depravity of the fiend. But, of all poetical cha- Beattie's racters, (says the elegant critic from whom we are ex- Essays. tracting), the Achilles of Homer (D) seems to me the most exquisite of invention, and the most highly finished. The utility of this character in a moral view is obvious; for it may be considered as the source of all the morality of the Iliad. Had not the generous and violent temper of Achilles determined him to patronize the augur Calchas in defiance of Agamemnon, and afterwards on being affronted by that vindictive commander, to abandon for a time the common cause of Greece;-the fatal effects of dissension among confederates, and of capricious and tyrannical behaviour in a sovereign, would not have been the leading moral of Homer's poetry; nor could Hector, Sarpedon, Eneas, Ulysses, and the other amiable beroes, have been brought forward to signalize their virtues, and to recommend themselves to the esteem and imitation of mankind.

27

They who form their judgment of Achilles from The excelthe imperfect sketch given of him by Horace in the Art lence of the poetiof Poctry, (v. 121, 122.); and consider him only as a cal chahateful composition of anger, revenge, fierceness, obsti- racter of nacy and pride, can never enter into the views of Ho- Achilles, mer, nor be suitably affected with his narration. All and these vices are no doubt, in some degree, combined in Achilles; but they are tempered with qualities of a different sort, which render him a most interesting character, and of course make the Iliad a most interesting poem. Every reader abhors the faults of this hero: and yet, to an attentive reader of Homer, this hero must be the object of esteem, admiration, and pity; for he has many good as well as bad affections, and is equally violent

5 Da

Of Poetical violent in all:-Nor is he possessed of a single vice or Characters. virtue, which the wonderful art of the poet has not made subservient to the design of the poem, and to the progress and catastrophe of the action; so that the hero of the Iliad, considered as a poetical personage, is just what he should be, neither greater nor less, neither worse nor better.-He is everywhere distinguished by an abhorrence of oppression, by a liberal and elevated mind, by a passion for glory, and by a love of truth, freedom, and sincerity. He is for the most part attentive to the duties of religion; and, except to those who have injured him, courteous and kind: he is affectionate to his tutor Phenix; and not only pities the misfortunes of his enemy Priam, but in the most soothing manner administers to him the best consolation that Homer's poor theology could furnish. Though no admirer of the cause in which his evil destiny compels him to engage, he is warmly attached to his native land; and, ardent as he is in vengeance, he is equally so in love to his aged father Pelens, and to his friend Patroclus. He is not luxurious like Paris, or clownish like Ajax; his accomplishments are princely, and his amusements worthy of a hero. Add to this, as an apology for the vehemence of his anger, that the affront he had received was (according to the manners of that age) of the most atrocious nature; and not only unprovoked, but such as, on the part of Agamemnon, betrayed a brutal insensibility to merit, as well as a proud, selfish, ungrateful, and tyrannical disposition. And though he is often inexcusably furious; yet it is but justice to remark, that he was not naturally cruel (E); and that his wildest outrages were such as in those rude times might be expected from a violent man of invincible strength and valour, when exasperated by injury, and frantic with sorrow. Our hero's claim to the admiration of mankind is indisputable. Every part of his character is sublime and astonishing. In his person, he is the strongest, the swiftest, the most beautiful of men :-this last circumstance, however, occurs not to his own observation, being too trivial to attract the notice of so great a mind. The Fates had put it in his power, either to return home before the end of the war, or to remain at Troy-if he chose the former, he would enjoy tranquillity and happiness in his own country to a good old age; if the latter, he must perish in the bloom of his youth-his affection to his father and native country, and his hatred to Agamemnon, strongly urged him to the first; but a desire to avenge the death of his friend determines him to accept the last with all its consequen

28

of all Ho

racters.

ces.

This at once displays the greatness of his fortitude, the warmth of his friendship, and the violence of his sanguinary passions and it is this that so often and so powerfully recommends him to the pity, as well as admiration, of the attentive reader."

It is equally a proof of rich invention and exact mer's cha- judgment in Homer, that he mixes some good qualities in all his bad characters, and some degree of imperfection in almost all his good ones.-Agamemnon, notwithstanding his pride, is an able general, and a valiant

Beattie,

ut

man, and highly esteemed as such by the greater part of Of Poetical the army.-Paris, though effeminate, and vain of his Character dress and person, is, however, good-natured, patient of reproof, not destitute of courage, and eminently skilled in music and other fine arts. Ajax is a buge giant; fearless rather from insensibility to danger, and confidence in his massy arms, than from any nobler principle; boastful and rough; regardless of the gods, though not downright impious: yet there is in his manner something of frankness and blunt sincerity, which entitle him' to a share in our esteem; and he is ever ready to assist his countrymen, to whom he renders good service on many a perilous emergency.The character of Helen, in spite of her faults, and of the many calamities whereof she is the guilty cause, Homer has found means to recommend to our pity, and almost to our love; and this he does, without seeking to extenuate the crime of Paris, of which the most respectable personages in the poem are made to speak with becoming abhorrence. She is so full of remorse, so ready on every occasion to condemn her past conduct, so affectionate to her friends, so willing to do justice to every body's merit, and withal so finely accomplished, that she extorts our admiration, as well as that of the Trojan senators.Menelaus, though sufficiently sensible of the injury be had received, is yet a man of moderation, clemency, and good-nature, a valiant soldier, and a most affectionate brother: but there is a dash of vanity in his composition, and he entertains rather too high an opinion of his own abilities, yet never overlooks nor undervalues the merit of others.-Priam would claim unreserved esteem, as well as pity, if it were not for his inexcuseable weakness, in gratifying the humour, and by indulgence abetting the crimes, of the most worthless of all his children, to the utter ruin of his people, family, and kingdom. Madame Dacier supposes, that he had lost his authority, and was obliged to fall in with the politics of the times but of this there appears no evidence; on the contrary, he and his unworthy favourite Paris seem to have been the only persons of distinction in Troy who were averse to the restoring of Helen. Priam's foible (if it can be called by so soft a name), however faulty, is not uncommon, and has often produced calamity both in private and public life. The Scripture gives a memorable instance in the history of the good old Eli.Sarpedon comes nearer a perfect character than any other of Homer's heroes; but the part he has to act is short. It is a character which one could hardly have expected in those rude times: a sovereign prince, who considers himself as a magistrate set up by the people for the public good, and therefore bound in honour and gratitude to be himself their example, and study to excel as much in virtue as in rank and authority.- Hector is the favourite of every reader, and with good reason. To the truest valour he joins the most generous patriotism. He abominates the crime of Paris: but not being able to prevent the war, he thinks it his duty to defend his country, and his father and sovereign, to the last. He too, as well as Achilles, foresees

his

Of Poetical his own death; which heightens our compassion, and Characters. raises our idea of his magnanimity. In all the relations of private life, as a son, a father, a husband, a brother, he is amiable in the highest degree; and he is distinguished among all the heroes for tenderness of affection, gentleness of manners, and a pious regard to the duties of religion. One circumstance of his character, strongly expressive of a great and delicate mind, we learn from Helen's lamentation over his dead body, that he was almost the only person in Troy who had always treated her with kindness, and never uttered one reproachful word to give her pain, nor heard others reproach her without blaming them for it. Some tendency to ostentation (which however may be pardonable in a commander in chief), and temporary fits of timidity, are the only blemishes discoverable in this hero; whose portrait Homer appears to have drawn with an affectionate and peculiar attention.

29

characters.

By ascribing so many amiable qualities to Hector and some others of the Trojans, the poet interests us in the fate of that people, notwithstanding our being continually kept in mind that they are the injurious party. And by thus blending good and evil, virtue and frailty, in the composition of his characters, he makes them the more conformable to the real appearances of human nature, and more useful as examples for our improvement; and at the same time, without hurting verisimilitude, gives every necessary embellishment to particular parts of his poem, and variety, coherence, and animation, to the whole fable. And it may also be observed, that though several of his characters are complex, not one of them is made up of incompatible parts: all are natural and probable, and such as we think we have met with, or might have met with, in our intercourse with mankind.

From the same extensive views of good and evil in all their forms and combinations, Homer has been enabled to make each of his characters perfectly distinct in itself, and different from all the rest; insomuch that before we come to the end of the Iliad, we are as well acquainted with his heroes, as with the faces and tempers Virgil fails of our most familiar friends. Virgil, by confining himin drawing self to a few general ideas of fidelity and fortitude, has made his subordinate heroes a very good sort of people; but they are all the same, and we have no clear knowledge of any one of them. Achates is faithful, and Gyas is brave, and Cloanthus is brave; and this is all we can say of the matter. We see these heroes at a distance, and have some notion of their shape and size; but are not near enough to distinguish their features; and every face seems to exhibit the same faint and ambiguous appearance. But of Homer's heroes we know every particular that can be known. We eat, and drink, and talk, and fight, with them: we see them in action and out of it; in the field and in their tents and houses: the very face of the country about Troy we seem to be as well acquainted with as if we had been there. Similar characters there are among these heroes, as there are similar faces in every society; but we never mistake one for another. Nestor and Ulysses are both wise and both eloquent but the wisdom of the former seems to be the effect of experience; that of the latter of genius : the eloquence of the one is sweet and copious, but not always to the purpose, and apt to degenerate into storytelling; that of the other is close, emphatical, and per

suasive, and accompanied with a peculiar modesty and of Poetical simplicity of manner. Homer's heroes are all valiant; Characters. yet each displays a modification of valour peculiar to himself; one is valiant from principle, another from constitution; one is rash, another cautious; one is impetuous and headstrong, another impetuous, but tractable; one is cruel, another merciful; one is insolent and ostentatious, another gentle and unassuming; one is vain of his person, another of his strength, and a third of his family. It would be tedious to give a complete enumeration. Almost every species of the heroic character is to be found in Homer.

Of the agents in Paradise Lost, it has been observed *, that "the weakest are the highest and noblest of human beings, the original parents of mankind; with whose actions the elements consented; on whose rectitude or deviation of will depended the state of terrestrial nature, and the condition of all the future inhabitants of the globe. Of the other agents in the poem, the chief are such as it is irreverence to name on slight occasions : the rest are lower powers;

-Of which the least could wield

These elements, and arm him with the force
Of all their regions:

* Johnson's Life of

Milton.

30

Powers, which only the controul of Omnipotence re- The diffistrains from laying creation waste, and filling the vast culty of expanse of space with ruin and confusion. To display drawing the motives and actions of beings thus superior, so far and discriminating as human reason can examine, or human imagination re- the characpresent them, is the task which Milton undertook and ters in Paperformed. The characters in the Paradise Lost, which radise Lost, admit of examination, are those of angels and of men: of angels good and evil; of man in his innocent and sinful state.

"Among the angels, the virtue of Raphael is mild and placid, of easy condescension, and free communication that of Michael is regal and lofty, attentive to the dignity of his own nature. Abdiel and Gabriel appear occasionally, and act as every incident requires: the solitary fidelity of Abdiel is very amiably painted.

"Of the evil angels, the characters are more diversified. To Satan such sentiments are given as suit the most exalted and most depraved being. Milton has been censured for the impiety which sometimes breaks from Satan's mouth; for there are thoughts, it is justly remarked, which no observation of character can justify; because no good man would willingly permit them to pass, however transiently, through his mind. This censure has been shown to be groundless by the great critic from whom we quote. To make Satan speak as a rebel, says he, without any such expressions as might taint the reader's imagination, was indeed one of the great difficulties in Milton's undertaking; and I cannot but think that he has extricated himself with great happiness. There is in Satan's speeches little that can give pain to a pious ear. The language of rebellion cannot be the Milton's same with that of obedience: the malignity of Satan success in this part of foams in haughtiness and obstinacy; but his expressions his underare commonly general, and no otherwise offensive than taking. as they are wicked.-The other chiefs of the celestial rebellion are very judiciously discriminated; and the ferocious character of Moloch appears, both in the battle and in the council, with exact consistency.

"To

Of Poetical

"To Adam and to Eve are given, during their innoArrange- cence, such sentiments as innocence can generate and ment, &c. utter. Their love is pure benevolence and mutual veneration; their repasts are without luxury, and their diligence without toil. Their addresses to their Maker have little more than the voice of admiration and gratitude: fruition left them nothing to ask, and innocence left them nothing to fear. But with guilt enter distrust and discord, mutual accusation and stubborn self-defence they regard each other with alienated minds, and dread their Creator as the avenger of their transgression; at last, they seek shelter in his mercy, soften to repentance, and melt in supplication. Both before

32

which is

with pro

bability.

and after the fall, the different sentiments arising from difference of sex are traced out with inimitable delicacy and philosophical propriety. Adam has always that preeminence in dignity, and Eve in loveliness, which we should naturally look for in the father and mother of mankind.

From what has been said, it seems abundantly evident, That the end of poetry is to please; and therefore that the most perfect poetry must be the most pleasing;-that what is unnatural cannot give pleasure; and therefore that poetry must be according to nature: -that it must be either according to real nature, or according to nature somewhat different from the reality;

Poetry ac- that, if according to real nature, it would give no cording to greater pleasure than history, which is a transcript of nature im- real nature;-that greater pleasure is, however, to be proved to that degree expected from it, because we grant it superior indulgence, in regard to fiction, and the choice of words ;consistent and, consequently, that poetry must be, not according to real nature, but according to nature improved to that degree which is consistent with probability and suitable to the poet's purpose. -And hence it is that we call poetry, An imitation of nature.-For that which is properly termed imitation has always in it something which is not in the original. If the prototype and transcript be exactly alike; if there be nothing in the one which is not in the other; we may call the latter a representation, a copy, a draught, or a picture, of the former; but we never call it an imitation.

33

How a

SECT. V. Of Arrangement, Unity, Digression.-Further remarks on Nature in Poetry.

I. THE origin of nations, and the beginnings of great events, are little known, and seldom interesting; whence the first part of every history, compared with the sequel, is somewhat dry and tedious. But a poet must, even in poem ought the beginning of his work, interest the readers, and raise to begin. high expectation; not by an affected pomp of style, far less by ample promises or bold professions; but by setting immediately before them some incident, striking enough to raise curiosity, in regard both to its causes and to its consequences. He must therefore take up his story, not at the beginning, but in the middle; or rather, to prevent the work from being too long, as near the end as possible; and afterwards take some proper opportunity to inform us of the preceding events, in the way of narrative, or by conversation of the persons in troduced, or by short and natural digressions.

The action of both the Iliad and Odyssey begins about six weeks before its conclusion; although the principal

events of the war of Troy are to be found in the former; Of Poctical and the adventures of a ten years voyage, followed by Arrange the suppression of a dangerous domestic enemy, in the ment, &c. latter. One of the first things mentioned by Homer in the Iliad, is a plague, which Apollo in anger sent into the Grecian army commanded by Agamemnon and now encamped before Troy. Who this Agamemnon was, and who the Grecians were; for what reason they had come hither; how long the siege had lasted; what memorable actions had been already performed; and in what condition both parties now were:-all this, and much more, we soon learn from occasional hints and conversations interspersed through the poem.

In the Eneid, which, though it comprehends the transactions of seven years, opens within a few months of the concluding event, we are first presented with a view of the Trojan fleet at sea, and no less a person than Juno interesting herself to raise a storm for their destruc tion. This excites a curiosity to know something further: who these Trojans were, whence they had come, and whither they were bound; why they had left their own country, and what had befallen them since they left it. On all these points, the poet, without quitting the track of his narrative, soon gives the fullest information: The storm rises; the Trojans are driven to Africa, and hospitably received by the queen of the country; at whose desire their commander relates his adventures.

The action of Paradise Lost commences not many days before Adam and Eve are expelled from the garden of Eden, which is the concluding event. This poem, as its plan is incomparably more sublime and more important than that of either the Iliad or Æneid, opens with a far more interesting scene: a multitude of angels and archangels shut up in a region of torment and darkness, and rolling on a lake of unquenchable fire. Who these angels are, and what brought them into this miserable condition, we naturally wish to know; and the poet in due time informs us; partly from the conversation of the fiends themselves; and more particularly by the mouth of a happy spirit, sent from heaven to caution the father and mother of mankind against temptation, and confirm their good resolutions by unfolding the dreadful effects of impiety and disobedience.

4

tage of the

This poetical arrangement of events, so different from Beattie, the historical, has other advantages besides those arising ut supra from brevity and compactness of detail: it is obviously more affecting to the fancy, and more alarming to the The adve passions; and, being more suitable to the order and the poetical a manner in which the actions of other men strike our rangement. senses, is a more exact imitation of human affairs. I hear a sudden noise in the street, and run to see what is the matter. An insurrection has happened, a great multitude is brought together, and something very important is going forward. The scene before me is the first thing that engages my attention; and is in itself so interesting, that for a moment or two I look at it in silence and wonder. By and by, when I get time for reflection, I begin to inquire into the cause of all this tumult, and what it is the people would be at ; and one who is better informed than I, explains the affair from the beginning; or perhaps I make this out for myself, from the words and actions of the persons principally concerned. This is a sort of picture of poetical arrangement, both in epic and dramatic composition; and this