to believe it was with her inclination: but of late she has got a quainted with a schoolman, who values himself for his great know ledge in the Greek tongue. He entertains her frequently in the shop with discourses of the beauties and excellences of that in guage; and repeats to her several passages out of the Greek poes wherein he tells her there is unspeakable harmony and agree sounds that all other languages are wholly unacquainted with. H has so infatuated her with this jargon, that instead of using be former diligence in the shop, she now neglects the affairs of the house, and is wholly taken up with her tutor in learning by bes scraps of Greek, which she vents upon all occasions. She t me some days ago, that whereas I use some Latin inscriptions my shop, she advised me with a great deal of concern to have them changed into Greek; it being a language less understood, be more conformable to the mystery of my profession; that good friend would be assisting to us in this work; and that tain faculty of gentlemen would find themselves so much ob to me, that they would infallibly make my fortune. In short frequent importunities upon this, and other impertinencies of the like nature, make me very uneasy; and if your remonstrances have no more effect upon her than mine, I am afraid I shall be obliged to ruin myself to procure her a settlement at Oxford with her tutt for she is already too mad for Bedlam. Now, Sir, you see the d ger my family is exposed to, and the likelihood of my wife's becom ing both troublesome and useless, unless her reading herself your paper may make her reflect. She is so very learned that! cannot pretend by word of mouth to argue with her. She laughed out at your ending a paper in Greek, and said it was a hint to w men of literature, and very civil not to translate it to expose them to the vulgar. You see how it is with, "MR. SPECTATOR, "Sir, your humble servant." "IF you have that humanity and compassion in your nature that you take such pains to make one think you have, you will not deny your advice to a distressed damsel, who intends to be deter mined by your judgment in a matter of great importance to her. You must know then, there is an agreeable young fellow, to whose person, wit, and humour, nobody makes any objection, that pre tends to have been long in love with me. To this I must add (whether it proceeds from the vanity of my nature, or the seeming sincerity of my lover, I will not pretend to say), that I verily be lieve he has a real value for me; which, if true, you will allow may justly augment his merit with his mistress. In short, I am so sensible of his good qualities, and what I owe to his passion, that I think I could sooner resolve to give up my liberty to him than any body else, were there not an objection to be made to his fortunes, a regard they do not answer the utmost mine may expect, and are ot sufficient to secure me from undergoing the reproachful phrase, o commonly used, that she has played the fool.' Now, though I m one of those few who heartily despise equipage, diamonds, and .coxcomb, yet since such opposite notions from mine prevail in the world, even amongst the best, and such as are esteemed the most rudent people, I cannot find in my heart to resolve upon incurring he censure of those wise folks, which I am conscious I shall do, if then I enter into a married state I discover a thought beyond that f equalling, if not advancing my fortunes. Under this difficulty now labour, not being the least determined whether I shall be overned by the vain world, and the frequent examples I meet with, or hearken to the voice of my lover, and the motious I find in my heart In favour of him. Sir, your opinion and advice in this affair, is the Only thing I know can turn the balance, and which I earnestly enreat I may receive soon; for until I have your thoughts upon it, I am engaged not to give my swain a final di-charge. "Besides the particular obligation you will lay on me, by giving this subject room in one of your papers, it is possible it may be of use to some others of my sex, who will be as grateful for the favour as, "Sir, your humble servant, FLORINDA. "P.S. To tell you the truth, I am married to him already, but pray say something to justify me." "MR. SPECTATOR, "You will forgive us professors of music if we make a second application to you, in order to promote our design of exhibiting entertainments of music in York-buildings. It is industriously insinuated that our intention is to destroy operas in general, but we beg of you to insert this plain explanation of ourselves in your paper. Our purpose is only to improve our circumstances, by improving the art which we profess. We see it utterly destroyed at present, and as we were the persons who introduced operas, we think it a groundless imputation that we should set up against the opera itself. What we pretend to assert is, that the songs of dif ferent authors injudiciously put together, and a foreign_tone and manner which are expected in everything now performed amongst us, has put music itself to a stand; insomuch that the ears of the people cannot now be entertained with anything but what has an impertinent gaiety, without any just spirit or a languishment of notes, without any passion or common sense. We hope those persons of sense and quality who have done us the honour to subscribe, will not be ashamed of their patronage towards us, and not receive impressions that patronising us is being for or against the opera, but truly promoting their own diversions in a more just and elegant manner than has been hitherto performed. "We are, Sir, your most humble servants, "THOMAS CLAYTON, "NICOLINO HAYM. "CHARLES DIEUPART "There will be no performances in York-buildings until after that of the subscription." STEELE. T. No. 279. SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 1711-12. Reddere personæ scit convenientia cuique. HOR. ARS, POET. 315 WE have already taken a general survey of the fable and che racters in Milton's "Paradise Lost." The parts which remain to be considered, according to Aristotle's method, are the senti ments and the language. Before I enter upon the first of these, I must advertise my reader, that it is my design, as soon as I have finished my general reflections on these four several heads, to gr particular instances out of the poem which is now before us, f beauties and imperfections which may be observed under each d them, as also of such other particulars as may not properly fil under any of them. This I thought fit to premise, that the reade may not judge too hastily of this piece of criticism, or look up it as imperfect, before he has seen the whole extent of it. The sentiments in an epic poem are the thoughts and behaviour which the author ascribes to the persons whom he introduces, and are just when they are conformable to the characters of the se veral persons. The sentiments have likewise a relation to things as well as persons, and are then perfect when they are such as are adapted to the subject. If in either of these cases the poet endea vours to argue or explain, to magnify or diminish, to raise love or hatred, pity or terror, or any other passion, we ought to consider whether the sentiments he makes use of are proper for those ends Homer is censured by the critics for his defect as to this particular in several parts of the Iliad and Odyssey, though at the same time those who have treated this great poet with candour, have attributed this defect to the times in which he lived. It was the fault of the age, and not of Homer, if there wants that delicacy in some of his sentiments, which now appears in the works of men of + See Nos. 267, and 273. See No. 238. a much inferior genius. Besides, if there are blemishes in any particular thoughts, there is an infinite beauty in the greatest part of them. In short, if there are many poets who would not have fallen into the meanness of some of his sentiments, there are none who could have risen up to the greatness of others. Virgil has excelled all others in the propriety of his sentiments. Milton shines likewise very much in this particular: nor must we omit one consideration which adds to his honour and reputation. Homer and Virgil introduced persons whose characters are commonly known among men, and such as are to be met with either in history, or in ordinary conversation. Milton's characters, most of them, lie out of nature, and were to be formed purely out of his own invention. It shows a greater genius in Shakespeare to have drawn his Caliban, than his Hotspur or Julius Cæsar: the one was to be supplied out of his own imagination, whereas the other - might have been formed upon tradition, history, and observation. It was much easier, therefore, for Homer to find proper sentiments for an assembly of Grecian generals, than for Milton to diversify his infernal council with proper characters, and inspire them with a variety of sentiments. The loves of Dido and Eneas are only copies of what has passed between other persons. Adam and Eve, before the fall, are a different species from that of mankind, who are descended from them; and none but a poet of the most unbounded invention, and the most exquisite judgment, could have filled their conversation and behaviour with so many apt circum stances during their state of innocence. Nor is it sufficient for an epic poem to be filled with such thoughts as are natural, unless it abound also with such as are sublime. Virgil, in this particular, falls short of Homer. He has not indeed so many thoughts that are low and vulgar; but at the same time has not so many thoughts that are sublime and noble. The truth of it is, Virgil seldom rises into very astonishing sentiments, where he is not fired by the Iliad. He everywhere charms and pleases us by the force of his own genius; but seldom elevates and transports us where he does not fetch his hints from Homer. Milton's chief talent, and indeed his distinguishing excellence, lies in the sublimity of his thoughts. There are others of the moderns who rival him in every other part of poetry; but in the greatness of his sentiments he triumphs over all the poets both modern and ancient, Homer only excepted. It is impossible for the imagination of man to distend itself with greater ideas, than those which he has laid together in his first, second, and sixth books. The seventh, which describes the creation of the world, is likewise wonderfully sublime, though not so apt to stir up emotion in the mind of the reader, nor consequently so perfect in the epic way of writing, because it is filled with less action. Let the judi cious reader compare what Longinus has observed on several sages in Homer, and he will find parallels for most of them in de Paradise Lost. From what has been said, we may infer, that as there are t kinds of sentiments, the natural and the sublime, which are always to be pursued in an heroic poem, there are also two kinds thoughts which are carefully to be avoided. The first are, such as affected and unnatural; the second, such as are mean and vulga As for the first kind of thoughts, we meet with little or nothing that is like them in Virgil. He has none of those trifling po and puerilities that are so often to be met with in Ovid, none the epigrammatic turns of Lucan, none of those swelling st ments which are so frequent in Statius and Claudin, none of the mixed embellishments of Tasso. Everything is just and natural. His sentiments shew that he has had a perfect insight into h nature, and that he knew everything which was the most proper to affect it. Mr. Dryden has in some places, which I may hereafter tak notice of, misrepresented Virgil's way of thinking as to this par cular, in the translation he has given us of the Eneid. I do n remember that Homer anywhere falls into the faults above m tioned, which were indeed the false refinements of later aces Milton, it must be confessed, has sometimes erred in this respert as I shall show more at large in another paper; though conside ing how all the poets of the age in which he writ were infected with this wrong way of thinking, he is rather to be admired that he did not give more into it, than that he did sometimes comp with the vicious taste which still prevails so much among mod writers. But since several thoughts may be natural which are low grovelling, an epic poet should not only avoid such sentiments are unnatural or affected, but also such as are mean and vulgat. Homer has opened a great field of raillery to men of more delicacy than greatness of genius, by the homeliness of some of his sente ments. But as I have before said, these are rather to be imputed to the simplicity of the age in which he lived, to which I may aisa add, of that which he described, than to any imperfection in that divine poet. Zoilus among the ancients, and Monsieur Perrseit among the moderns, pushed their ridicule very far upon him, on account of some such sentiments. There is no blemish to be obe served in Virgil under this head, and but a very few in Milton. I shall give but one instance of this impropriety of thought in Homer, and at the same time compare it with an instance of the same nature, both in Virgil and Milton. Sentiments which raise laughter, can very seldom be admitted with any decency into a heroic poem, whose business it is to excite passions of a much nobler nature. Homer, however, in his characters of Vulcan and |
