LECTURE XXIX,&c.OfEpic,orHeroic Poetry.

Twenty-eighth Lecture.

We are come now to the Conclusion of the Definition; in the last Clause of which, expressing the Invention of Tragedy, after these Words,to raise the Passions, particularly those of Pity and Terror; we have the following, andto purge the Mind from them. It remains, therefore, for us to shew, by what Means Tragedypurges the Passions, and that by putting them in Motion, which seems to promise a quite contrary Effect: And when that is done, just to point out whence that Pleasure arises, which we receive from Tragedy; or from what the Causes discoverable in the inmost Recesses of our Nature, our Minds are delighted with Sorrow, and feel a pleasing Anguish, even from Terror and Commiseration. To these Enquiries, I shall, at present, content myself with a short Answer, which shall be enlarg'd hereafter, in a Work that will be publish'd in our own Tongue, afew Months hence, and which has already had the Honour of being encourag'd, by the Subscriptions of several Gentlemen in this Body; to whom I here return my publick Acknowledgments. The Work I mean, is anEnglish Translation of Virgil's Æneis: Where, in some Observations upon the fourth Book, this nice and difficult Point shall be discuss'd at large. In the mean Time, the Nature of my present Design makes it necessary for me just to touch upon it here.

Are the Passions, then, to be purg'd, even by their being put in Agitation? Yes; and why not? Bile and Phlegm, and other Humours in the Human Body, cannot be carried off, unless they are first fermented, and put in Motion: Nay, Humours are often expell'd by Medicines of the same Nature and Temperament; as Acids by Acids; Bitters by Bitters; and so of the rest. Some of the Passions, therefore, are purg'd by themselves, as Terror, and Pity; others, again, by the Means of these two. Terror and Pity, as I have said, have this Effect upon themselves; because such dramatical Representations make us more accustom'd to miserable and dreadful Objects; on which Account they become more familiar to us, and, consequently, affect us with less Misery and Terror. "By this Means, (says[448]Vossius) Tragedy is said περαινειν την των τοιουτων παθηματων καθαρσιν, to purge and relieve the Mind from such Perturbations; just as (to mention one Instance out of many) the View of those Calamities, which have formerly been the Lot of great Men, teaches others to bear their present Afflictions with Patience. To which Purpose,Athenæushas quoted some elegant Verses ofTimocles, at the Beginning of his sixth Book." And in another Place, saysVossius,[449]The Design of Tragedy is to strike a Terror in the Audience, ικπληζαι, asPolybiusexpresses it in his second Book, where he is discoursing againstPhylarchusof the different Ends which Historians and Tragic Poets have in View. The Audience feel this Emotion from a View of the Calamity before them, and the Anguish is still heighten'd by the Dignity of the Sufferers. But the Design of this Emotion is to purge the Mind from those very Passions. For, as a Veteran Soldier, or Physician, by being often conversant with Objects of real Misery, have this Advantage, that they make no greater Impression upon them, than they ought; so, in Tragedy, by seeing the violent Effects of the Passions, the Mind is taught to restrain them within due Bounds. Hence it is plain, whyAristotlesays, as we observ'd, that the End of Tragedy is topurge the Passions; in which he differs entirely fromPlato, who look'd upon Tragedies as the Inflammatories of them,Aristotleas their proper Correctives."

To which I may add, that when the Passions have been long exercis'd with imaginary Distress, their Strength is so much abated, that they have the less left to exert upon real Misery. The Observation whichSimomakes inTerenceabout deceivingDavuswith the Appearance of a Wedding, may be almost as justly applied to the Excess of Passion (for the Excess is what we speak of, since the Passions are in themselves good).

[450]Simul sceleratus Davus, si quid consiliHabet, ut consumat nunc, cum nihil obsint doli.

Taking the Question, then, in this View, the Passions may be sometimes purg'd by the Violence oftheir own Agitations: As Wind, which is nothing else but Air in a more rapid Motion, carries off those noxious Vapours that are mix'd with it, and would otherwise be the Occasion of Diseases.

The Passions, therefore, of Terror and Pity, are purg'd by their own Operations, and the rest by their Means. For Tragedies not only give us a Representation of violent and licentious Love, of Anger, Ambition, Revenge, and the like; but the Audience, by the Impressions of Terror and Pity, are made to feel the Effects of them. Yet there seems to be a Sort of Fallacy in this. Are not some Passions rais'd to enormous Heights, and a wild Licentiousness, even by their being represented; especially that of Love, which seems to be the whole Business of our modern Tragedies. Have not such Ideas so strongly impress'd more Influence upon the Imagination, than the poetical Medicines can carry off, which are not applied till after the Fit is begun, only by describing the criminal Excess, or fatal Consequence of these Passions? As human Nature is but too prone to indulge the Extravagance of them, may it nor be justly said,

Sponte sua properant, labor est inhibere volantes?The Coursers of themselves will run too fast,The Art must be to moderate their Haste.Addison.

Sponte sua properant, labor est inhibere volantes?

The Coursers of themselves will run too fast,The Art must be to moderate their Haste.Addison.

Are they not more inflam'd by the Representation, than corrected by the Remedy? To these, and all other Scruples of this Sort, this seems to be the proper Answer: That these Effects are, or are not to be expected, just according to the Nature and Manner of the Performance. As the Case, in Fact, is, an Audience is more likely to receive ill Impressions, than Instruction, from modern Tragedies: It is one Thing to shew the Passions by theirSymptoms, (to use the Language of the Physicians)i.e.by theirAppearancesandEffects; another to represent andexcitethem by all the Methods ofInsinuationandAllurement. In this the later Tragedies, especially those of our own Country, are scandalously faulty: Not so the ancient, nor theGrecianWriters, who shame usChristians, by making the Glory of Chastity their own. But Tragedies that are form'd upon the Plan of Reason, and of Virtue, please the Mind without corrupting it: They furnish the Imagination with agreeable Images, without conveying any dangerous Poison under the Cover of them; they unbend the Mind, without debasing it to Softness, and Effeminacy: They describe and represent the Passions, as they are seated in all the tumultuous Disorder in the Soul; but this is so far from exciting us to the same Extravagance, that it is the sure Way to deter us from it. There is, I own, something pleasant in such Descriptions; but the Pleasure rises from no vicious Source, from no bad Principle; but from the Imitation, the Elegance, and the Art of the Poet, which strikes out such lively Images of human Nature; and, lastly, from the pleasing Anguish which Terror and Compassion raise within us: Which suggests to me the other Enquiry, that of accounting for the secret Causes of this Pleasure.

Vossiusseems by no Means to give a full Solution of this Difficulty. "It may be a Question (says he[451]) how Tragedy can supply us with Delight, which is the End of all Poetry, since it represents Sorrow and Distress; and the Misfortunes, especially those of great Persons, can give no Satisfaction to a virtuous Mind. In Answer to this Difficulty, we may observe, that the Pleasure arises not from the Calamities of others, but from the Art of the Poet. How much does the Sight of real Dragonsand Monsters fill us with Terror! but the Pictures of them give us Pleasure, because we are entertain'd with the Skill of the Painter. Besides, it is some Satisfaction, to be acquainted with such Misfortunes, because they may make us more cautious and prudent." WhatScaligerhas said, is much to the same Purpose. "But here (says he[452]) it may be objected, that Delight is included in the very Definition of Poetry: But, in Tragedy, how can the Anguish of Sorrow, Mourning and Distress, be entertaining? The Reason is, because Pleasure does not flow from Joy only, but from acquiring any Sort of Learning. Now the Spectator has the Benefit of making such an Acquisition; thus we behold Pictures with Pleasure, and are delighted with the most hideous Forms." But neither of these Answers come up to the Point: Undoubtedly great Part of the Pleasure that is given us, arises, as we before observ'd, from the Skill of the Poet, but from Nature a much greater, whichVossiusandScaliger[453]take no Notice of. Indeed, we may learn, and our Prudence may, and ought to be improv'd by these Representations: But the Mind, in the Pleasure it receives, has no Regard to these prudential Considerations. The Pleasure, therefore, of Pity, seems to arise, first, from hence, that if Things go well with us, another Man's Miseries, plac'd in View before us, make us more sensible of our own Happiness, and teach us to feel the Value of it: According toLucretius's Observation, so often quoted:

[454]Suave, mari magno, turbantibus æquora ventis,E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem;Non quia vexari quenquam est jucunda voluptas,Sed, quibus ipse malis careas, quia cernere suave est.'Tis pleasant, when the Seas are rough, to standAnd view another's Danger safe at Land:Not 'cause he's troubled, but 'tis sweet to seeThose Cares and Fears, from which ourselves are free.Creech.

[454]Suave, mari magno, turbantibus æquora ventis,E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem;Non quia vexari quenquam est jucunda voluptas,Sed, quibus ipse malis careas, quia cernere suave est.

'Tis pleasant, when the Seas are rough, to standAnd view another's Danger safe at Land:Not 'cause he's troubled, but 'tis sweet to seeThose Cares and Fears, from which ourselves are free.Creech.

If we are in Affliction, the Representation of the like Miseries makes our own more supportable. In both these Cases, the Pleasure arises from the Comparison, a Principle to which great Part of the Misery and Felicity of human Life is owing. It is commonly said, thatno Body is miserable but by Comparison; and it may be as truly said, thatno Body is happy but by Comparison. But perhaps it may be here observ'd, that this Solution does not reach the Difficulty: Pity has no Relation to ourselves, but to others; I should rather think it has to both: And how much soever we apply it to others, the Estimate is made from ourselves. Nor is this alone sufficient to explain fully the Point in Question: Another Cause of this Pleasure is, the Operation of the Mind upon itself, or (what the Schools call) itsreflex Act. It contemplates that generous and humane Disposition, which inclines it towards others, and is conscious that this Commiseration does, in some Measure, arise from it. Perhaps it may be objected, that these two Principles are not consistent, since the one is an Evidence of Self-love, the other of a great and generous Mind: I shall take another Opportunity, as I have said, of shewing the strict Alliance there is between these two Principles; and that Self-love, taken in its full Latitude, ought to be allow'd as the Source of all our Passions, and the great Principleof human Actions[455]. As to Terror, the Delight it gives us in Tragedy, comes from hence; at first, (so rapid is the Current of our Ideas) we are affected with this Appearance of Distress, as if it was real; and then, by an agreeable Turn of Thought, we recollect, that this is all imaginary, and that there is no Danger. There are other Circumstances[456], which I shall take no Notice of at present, nor stay to enlarge upon those Hints I have given, because I shall examine them more at large in the foremention'd Dissertation.

Æschylus,Sophocles, andEuripides, the onlyGreekTragic Poets that we have now left, are well known.

If we compare the ancient and modern Writers of Tragedy, the latter are much superior in forming and unravelling the Plot. The former have shewn a good deal of this Contrivance in their Comedies, but in their Tragedies very little; the Moderns in both. The chief Design of the ancient Tragic Poets was, to raise Terror, rather than Pity; of the Moderns, Compassion rather. The former excel in the Greatness and Magnificence of their Sentiments; the latter in the Variety, and passionate Parts of them. In one you have more Excellencies, in the other fewer Faults. Among the Moderns, none deserve any Comparison but theFrenchWriters and our own: They, indeed, are elegant, ingenious, exact in observing Rules, and fond of imitating the Ancients; but want Spirit, Vigour, and poetic Fire:

Non spirant tragicum satis, aut feliciter audent.

TheEnglishare not to be charg'd with this Defect; nor does the Impetuosity of their Genius hinder their having a Regard to the Rules of Art. Mons.Rapinallows that they excel all the Nations inEurope, except his own: Whence we may be allow'd to conclude, that there is no great Reason for that Exception.

We are, at length, by just Degrees, advanc'd to the last, as it is the best, and most perfect Kind of Poetry: And no Wonder we should finish our Dissertations here, where the utmost Bounds are set to human Compositions. WhatScaligersaid ofBuchanan, tho' in a Strain of excessive Flattery, when applied to aMan; may be justly true of aThing, of Epic Poetry in particular:

Namque ad supremum perducta Poetica culmenIn te stat; nec quo progrediatur, habet.Nature's great Efforts can no farther tend,Here fix'd her Pillars, all her Labours end.

Namque ad supremum perducta Poetica culmenIn te stat; nec quo progrediatur, habet.

Nature's great Efforts can no farther tend,Here fix'd her Pillars, all her Labours end.

For Mr.Rapinhas very justly observ'd, An Epic, or Heroic Poem, properly so call'd, is, undoubtedly, the greatest Work which the Soul of Man is capable of performing. We have already observ'd, in our first Lecture, that all the other Branches of this divine Art are summ'd up, and included in this one: And in a Dissertation which I have written in another Language[457], I have attempted to give a short Account of the Reason of it. What I have now tosay upon this Subject, which is so much superior to all others, for the Excellence and Extent of it, is not so much as the Dignity of it deserves; because I have already enter'd into many Particulars, which belong to it, as the Nature of the Subject, I undertook to discuss, made it necessary; particularly, when I gave a View of Poetry in general, and the several particular Branches of it; when I treated of thePoetic Style, the Beauty of its Thoughts, or the Elegance and Sublimity of them, of the Drama in general, and Tragedy, a Species of it. For these Sorts of Poetry have many Things in common:

——Alterius sicAltera poscit opem res, & conjurat amice.

And several Things, which have a Relation to this Subject, I have consider'd more at large elsewhere, in another[458]Language. What I mean, will, perhaps, be better understood in the Progress of this Discourse; for nothing, Gentlemen, can be more disagreeable to you and me, than a needless Repetition of the same Things, and saying what has been said a thousand Times over.

Mons.Bossu, aFrenchGentleman, and an excellent Critic, has given us a Discourse upon Epic Poetry, in his own Language, which is well known; a Treatise every Way worthy of the Applause which the Learned have bestow'd upon it. But it had been no Derogation to its Merit, if some Parts of it had been a little more concise: For the Author, how eminent soever for Penetration of Thought, Soundness of Judgment, and Variety of Erudition; seems to pursue his Observations too minutely, and gives us Distinctions without End. And too many Distinctions must obscure, rather than explain the Meaning of a Writer.An Epic, or Heroic Poem, may be thus defin'd:It is a Poem express'd in Narration, form'd upon a Story partly real, and partly feign'd; representing, in a sublime and flowing Style, some glorious and fortunate Action, that is distinguish'd by a Variety of great Events; to form the Morals, and inflame the Mind with the Love of heroic Virtue.This Definition is more regular in Form, and more comprehensive, as to the Matter of it, than Mons.Bossu's: He, following the Method of his own Definition, divides his whole Work into six Books; the first treats of the Nature of an Epic Poem, which includes the Fable; the second, the Matter, or the Action of the Poem; the third, the Form, or the Narration; the fourth, the Moral, or the Characters of the Persons concern'd; the fifth, the Machinery, or the Appearance and Influence which the Gods have in it; the sixth, concludes with the Thoughts, and the Style.

He pursues each of these Articles at large, and discusses them with a great deal of Wit, Learning, and Judgment; but the Method he has chosen, seems not so proper. TheNatureof the Thing defin'd contains all the Particulars of it, and therefore ought not to have been a distinct Branch of his Division, which should (as is usual) have been so form'd, as to have distinguish'd only three different Parts of the Definition, namely, the Matter, the Form, and the End: TheMatterincludes the Action and the Fable, under which are rang'd the Incidents, Episodes, Characters, Morals, and Machinery; theFormcomprehends the Way, or Manner of the Narration, whether by the Poet himself, or by any of the Persons introduc'd, whose Discourses are related: To this Branch, likewise, belongs the moving of the Passions, the Descriptions, Discourses, Sentiments, Thoughts, Style, and Versification; and beside these, the Similes, Tropes, Figures, and, in short, all theOrnaments and Decorations of the Poem. TheEndis to improve our Morals, and increase our Virtue, which is of itself so plain and obvious, that there is no Occasion to say much about it.

I thought it requisite justto mentionthe several Parts of Epic Poetry, tho' I do not design toenlargeupon all of them: Because, in the Course of these Lectures, I have already touch'd upon several of them, as they fell in with Arguments of the same Kind; many of them have been particularly consider'd,viz.the Action, and the Fable, (for these are almost the very same, both in Epic and Dramatic Poetry) the Morals, Characters, the different Kinds of Narration, the Passions, Descriptions, Sentiments, the Sublimity of Style and Thought, the Versification, Comparisons, Tropes, Figures, and all the other Embellishments of Poetry: What remains, therefore, is only to offer some scatter'd Observations upon those Heads, which relate more especially to Epic Poetry, with such Remarks, as have not yet been taken Notice of. And, after all, this will look more like the Gleanings, than the Harvest. When I have done this, I propose to translate one Chapter ofBossuwhere he explains the Nature and Origine of Epic Poetry. It is a short one, but remarkable for its Elegance and Perspicuity. And, lastly, I shall add some Reflections upon the most celebrated Writers of Epic Poetry, both ancient and modern.

Aristotle, in his Book of Poetry, the only one that is now left, has allotted only two Chapters for the Consideration of Epic separately; tho' he often mentions it, in shewing the Relation it bears to Tragedy: The Reason of which is very evident, because most of what he said of the one, might be applied to the other; and therefore, in those two Chapters, he has done very little more than adjust the Rules of the Drama to Epic Poetry, observing, all along, thatDistinction between these two Sons of Poetry, which the Nature of them required; and interspersing, now and then, the Praises ofHomer. I might (if you would excuse the Comparison) say the same Thing of these Dissertations, which is one Reason why I have not treated this Subject more at large.

There is the same Difference between the Fable and the Action, both in Epic and Tragic Poetry, namely, the Action is an Achievement of some eminent Person, which produc'd some great and memorable Event. The Fable is the Complication of all those Incidents, Episodes, and other Circumstances, which promote the Action, and carry it to its proper Period, or else which serve to illustrate, or to embellish and adorn it. Episodes are either absolutely necessary, or very requisite: All Episodes are not Incidents[459], tho' all Incidents are Episodes; because some Incidents are notadventitiousto the Action, (which, as the Etymology of the Word implies, is essential to an Episode) but make up the very Form and Series of it: Or (to use a more harsh and inelegant Expression) they are notcollateral, butdirectParts of it; these, and many other Particulars of this Sort, for the Reason so often mention'd, will not be enlarg'd upon at present.

The Action, in Epic Poetry, must, of Necessity, beone, as well as in Tragedy; tho' it may, and ought tobe more comprehensive. As to the Place of Action, there is no confining it to any certain Bounds; Epic has certainly a much larger Range than Tragedy; but the more it keeps within Compass, the more perfect and entire the Action seems to be.Aristotleexpressly says, that as to Time, there is no fixing it to any determin'd Period.Homer'sIliaddoes not contain above the Space of forty-seven Days[460]; theOdyssee(asBossu[461], and, after him,Dacier, are of Opinion) takes up eight Years, and six Months; theÆneidalmost seven Years. But, in this Point, these great Criticks seem not to have made so just a Determination; for not every Thing that is related by the Poet, or the Persons he has introduc'd, makes, strictly speaking, a Part of the Action, but that, only, which is perform'd by the Hero, and his Associates, from that Place, where you enter upon the Poem, to the Conclusion of it. For Instance; the Action of theÆneid, in a strict and proper Sense, does not begin at the building of the wooden Horse:

—Fracti bello, fatisque repulsi.Æn. II. 13.

But from the Time thatÆneasset Sail from one of the Ports ofSicily:

Vix è conspectu Siculæ telluris in altum.I. 38.

And taking the Question in this View, Mons.Segrais, in the Preface to his admirableFrenchTranslationof theÆneid, has demonstrated, that the Action of that divine Poem falls within the Compass of one Year. And we may observe almost the same Thing ofHomer'sOdyssee.

I thinkDacierhas mistaken the Meaning ofAristotlein another Place, tho' there, also, he followsBossu; and that is, with Regard to the Actions or Adventures of the Persons. Epic (says that Philosopher) is μιμησιϛ σπουδαιων, whichDaciertranslates thus;the Imitation of the Actions of illustrious Persons, not of illustrious Actions. And perhaps that is not amiss: But I cannot be of his Opinion, when he declares, that if the Persons are illustrious, it is of no great Moment, whether the Actions are so, or not. He very justly affirms, that the most glorious Actions of private Men are not a proper Subject for an Heroic Poem; but then the other Point must be given against him, that it is necessary, thatnot the Person only, but the Action, should be illustrious. All the Actions, even ofAlexanderorCæsar,AchillesorÆneas, are surely not proper for Epic. I agree, therefore, thatAristotlemust be understood to mean the Actions of Heroes; but then he would also imply, the Actions of Heroes, as Heroes. And, no doubt,Horacewas of the same Opinion, (tho'Dacierbrings him in as an Evidence on his Side) when he says,

[462]Res gestæ regumque, ducumque.

i.e.considering them as Kings and Generals; for the Words immediately following, whichDaciertakes no Notice of, are,

——& tristia bella.

WhatBossufurther advances[463]in Support of his Opinion,is of no great Moment,viz.that the little Enmities in theIliad, and in theOdysseythe Return of an Exile into his Country, are Actions equally suitable to private Men and Heroes. I confess, (and so does he) thatÆneas's restoring his Country, as it were, and laying the Foundation of a new Kingdom; are much more heroical: But even those above-mention'd, as they are set off byHomer, with their heroical Circumstances, could not but have been great, tho' they had been done by private Men. In theIliad, indeed, and more especially in theOdyssey, some Things are related below the Majesty of Epic; as for Instance, what the Poet tells us ofUlysses's Herdsman and Swineherd; whichOvidhas thought fit to copy inPenelope's Epistle to that Chief:

[464]Hoc faciunt custosque boum, longævaque nutrix,Tertius immundæ cura fidelis haræ.Thus the old Nurse, the Hind, and Hogherd pray,True Servants all, and faithful in their Way.Rhymer.

[464]Hoc faciunt custosque boum, longævaque nutrix,Tertius immundæ cura fidelis haræ.

Thus the old Nurse, the Hind, and Hogherd pray,True Servants all, and faithful in their Way.Rhymer.

These, I own, are not represented as the Actions of the Hero himself; but still are unworthy to be mention'd in an Heroic Poem. The Simplicity of ancient Times is alledg'd, in Excuse for Things of this Nature; and, for my Part, I am willing to admit it: But, certainly, let the Men live in what Age you please, they stood in Need of some Excuse.Virgilhas nothing of this Kind; who has a much better Right thanHomerto that Encomium ofHorace[465],

——Qui nil molitur inepte.

Throughout theÆneidthere is nothing mean, nothing dishonourable, nothing that is not truly heroic. As to the forming of a Hero, he is not to be representedadorn'd with every Virtue, as a Character entirely perfect, because there is no such Thing in Nature; but he may advance as near as possible to that Perfection.UlyssesandÆneas, indeed, are at no great Distance from it; but what Sort of a Hero isAchilles!

[466]Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer,Jura negat sibi nata, nihil non arrogat armis.Impatient, rash, inexorable, proud,Scorning all Judges, and all Laws, but Arms.Roscommon.

[466]Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer,Jura negat sibi nata, nihil non arrogat armis.

Impatient, rash, inexorable, proud,Scorning all Judges, and all Laws, but Arms.Roscommon.

These are heroical Virtues, no doubt! an admirable Image of a Demi-god! But more of this in another Place.

There are two Things which chiefly distinguish Epic from Tragedy, theManner of the Representation, and theEvent, orCatastrophe. As to the former, it is certain, that Tragedy is form'd upon Action, and Epic upon Narration. For whatAristotlesays of Epic,[467]ὁτι δει τουϛ μυθουϛ καθαπερ ἑν ταιϛ τραγωδιαιϛ συνισταναι δραματικουϛ,that the Fable, as in Tragedy, ought to be dramatical, it is plain, from the very Words, must be understood of theFable, which ought to be active,i.e.lively, full of Motion, and growing warmer, as it comes nearer the Conclusion; and has no Relation to theForm, orManner of representing, orimitating, which, as every Body knows, in Heroic Poetry is, and always was, narrative, and not dramatic.

They differ, also, in the Event, or Conclusion. In Tragedy, the Conclusion isgenerallyunfortunate, butneverso in Epic; the Reasons of which Rule are,First, The Examples ofHomer, andVirgil, who are, and ought te be our Guides, and Masters;evenAchilles, the Hero of the Poem as he is, tho' very undeservedly, comes off with Success; and much more shouldUlyssesandÆneas. In this Particular these Writers have been universally follow'd by all, who wou'd be thought Epic Writers; for which Reason,Statius(asBossuhas observ'd) rather chose to break the Unity of the Action, than make hisThebaisend unfortunately, after the miserable Fratricide ofEteoclesandPolynices. And not only the Authority of these Poets, but the very Reason of the Thing, supplies us with Arguments for this Rule.First, Altho' in Tragedy (where the Action is much shorter, more simple, and finish'd, as it were, at a Heat) an unfortunate Conclusion may be so far from displeasing, that it may be agreeable to the Audience; yet in Epic, after such a Series and Variety of Adventures, after sustaining so many, and so great Difficulties, the Reader must be out of Humour with the Poet, unless the whole should conclude happily at last.2dly, The chief End of Tragedy is, to purge the Passions, especially those of Terror and Pity, by a short and brisk Emotion; but the Design of Epic Poetry is, by more slow and leisurely Operations, to remove bad Habits, and restore good ones; to subdue Vice, and recommend Virtue; which would be done with a very ill Grace, if the Hero of the Poem, or the Prince endu'd with heroic Virtue, (for such he either is, or ought to be) should come to a deplorable End.3dly, An Epic Poem, properly so call'd, is, and always must be written in Honour of the Country, or the Religion of the Author; between which, and the Hero, there is a near Relation; and therefore he ought to come off in Triumph at last.Bossuinclines to this Opinion, nay,expresslydetermines, that this is thetruerConduct. I have ventur'd to advance a Step further, being of Opinion, for the Reasons now alledg'd, it is notonly proper, but essential to Heroic Poetry; and, in Consequence of that Opinion, have made a happy Conclusion Part of the Definition. The two Differences, therefore, that we spoke of, between Tragedy and Epic, are (as the Schools term it)specificDifferences, the others are onlyaccidental; those are Differences inNature, these only inDegree,Extent, orGreatness.

Thirtieth Lecture.

The Moderns seem to mistake that Part of Epic and Tragedy which contains the το θαυμασον, or thewonderful, confounding thewonderfulwith theimprobable, and using those two Words promiscuously. If it was really so, the το θαυμασον would always be faulty; for that is always faulty, which is improbable. These poetical Prodigies would be improbable, if they were represented to be perform'd by any human Power: But the Case is quite different. The Divine Power, and the Agency of the Gods, make all this agreeable to Reason. Thus, inHomer, that the Horses should speak; and, inVirgil, that the Myrtle Roots should drop Blood, is wonderful, but not improbable: For our most ingenious Translator ofHomerseems to be mistaken, when he asserts, that these were perform'd without the Interposal of the Gods. As to the latter,Virgil[468]expresly declares it to be a Prodigy:

Horrendum, & dictu video mirabile monstrum.

And a little after,

[469]——Nymphas venerabat agrestes,Gradivumque Patrem, Geticis qui præsidet arvis,Rite secundarent visus, omenque levarent.I implore the rural Nymphs,AndMars, who o'er theGeticField presides,The Omen to avert, and grant Success.

[469]——Nymphas venerabat agrestes,Gradivumque Patrem, Geticis qui præsidet arvis,Rite secundarent visus, omenque levarent.

I implore the rural Nymphs,AndMars, who o'er theGeticField presides,The Omen to avert, and grant Success.

But plainer still, in what follows:

[470]Monstra deum refero.

As toHomer, he, in express Terms, asserts, thatJunomade the Horse speak[471]:

Αυδηεντα δο εθηκε θεα λευκωλεν Ἡρη.Then, strange to tell, (soJunowill'd) he brokeEternal Silence, and portentous spoke.Pope.

Αυδηεντα δο εθηκε θεα λευκωλεν Ἡρη.

Then, strange to tell, (soJunowill'd) he brokeEternal Silence, and portentous spoke.Pope.

In such Cases as these, whatsoever is possible, is probable: If you determine otherwise, Poetry is depriv'd of one of its best Ornaments, its greatest Fund of Surprize. And the same Observation extends to some Parts of the wonderful, which are not accounted for by a divine Power: As in the Instance ofPolyphemus, and the otherCyclops, inHomerandVirgil. That there were really Giants, is an Opinion, which not only the Ancients believ'd, but the Scriptures have confirm'd: But whethersuchGiants were ever in Being, as are there describ'd, is a Point of no Moment. ThereforeVirgil's Description ofPolyphemusis very injudiciously censur'd by some Criticks:

[472]——Graditurque per æquorJam medium, nec dum fluctus latera ardua tinxit.Then stalk'd alongThro' the mid Ocean; nor did yet the WavesTinge his tall Sides.

[472]——Graditurque per æquorJam medium, nec dum fluctus latera ardua tinxit.

Then stalk'd alongThro' the mid Ocean; nor did yet the WavesTinge his tall Sides.

And afterwards:

[473]Clamorem immensum tollit; quo pontus, & omnes.Intramuere undæ, penitusque exterrita tellusItaliæ, curvisque immugiit Ætna cavernis.He rais'd a hideous Yell; at which the SeaTrembled, and all its Waves:Italiaquak'd;AndÆtnabellow'd thro' its winding Caves.

[473]Clamorem immensum tollit; quo pontus, & omnes.Intramuere undæ, penitusque exterrita tellusItaliæ, curvisque immugiit Ætna cavernis.

He rais'd a hideous Yell; at which the SeaTrembled, and all its Waves:Italiaquak'd;AndÆtnabellow'd thro' its winding Caves.

This is so far from being improbable, or carrying the Hyperbole too far, that nothing can be more elegant and sublime; especially if we consider the Nature of Fear, which always enlarges what is great, and raises a Train of Horrors upon one another. It is, indeed, very hyperbolical; but the Nature of the Thing describ'd, not only excuses, but demands that Boldness. I ownHomerhas a few Examples of the improbable; and there is one Instance of this Kind inVirgil; I mean whereCamillais describ'd in those most elegant Verses,

[474]Illa vel intactæ segetis per summa volaretGramina, nec teneras cursu læsisset aristas;Aut mare per medium fluctu suspensa tumentiFerret iter, celeres neque tingeret æquore plantas.She o'er the Tops of untouch'd Corn wou'd fly,Skimming along, nor hurt the tender Grain;Or run, supported on a swelling Wave,Thro' the mid Sea, nor tinge her nimble Feet.

[474]Illa vel intactæ segetis per summa volaretGramina, nec teneras cursu læsisset aristas;Aut mare per medium fluctu suspensa tumentiFerret iter, celeres neque tingeret æquore plantas.

She o'er the Tops of untouch'd Corn wou'd fly,Skimming along, nor hurt the tender Grain;Or run, supported on a swelling Wave,Thro' the mid Sea, nor tinge her nimble Feet.

The Lines are exceeding beautiful, and therefore the more is the Pity that the Thing is impossible.

In my Definition of Epic Poetry, I inserted this Clause,that it must be form'd upon a Story partly real, and partly fictitious: For both these are equally necessary. In Tragedy, which is so much shorter, the Performance may not only be excusable, but commendable, tho' the whole Fable should be fictitious: But in a long Work, such as an Heroic Poem is, the Reader will be tir'd, unless he has the Pleasure of finding some Truth interwoven with the Fable. Besides, an Heroic Poet writes, or ought towrite after the Examples ofHomerandVirgil, in Honour of the Country he belongs to, or the Religion he professes; and then it must be necessary that he should have some Regard to popular Opinions, or true History. This is requisite, at least to the well-being, if not the very being of an Heroic Poem.

Little need be said about the Machinery, which, among the ancient Heathens, was the Agency of their false Gods, and of Angels and Demons among usChristians; its Beauty and Magnificence being well known. The Dignity of an Heroic Poem would scarce be kept up without it, especially since the το θαυμαστον or the Marvellous, depends upon it. I shall say no more, but refer the Reader to the fifth Chapter ofBossu.

The Versification of Heroic Poetry is what no Body is a Stranger to, which, among theGreeksandRomansconsisted of Hexameters. This Kind of Verse is so peculiar to Epic, that when it is us'd upon other Occasions, it is commonly call'd Heroic Verse. It is needless to observe how numerous, and sublime, and beautiful, in all Respects, it is, and how much it has tended to ennoble those Languages: OurEnglishVerse comes nearest to it, both in Gravity and Majesty, but at how great Distance? which yet, is, at least, both in Strength and Energy, far superior to theFrenchandItalian.

I have made these few scatter'd Reflections upon Heroic Poetry, and propose to add no more, at present, for a Reason I have hinted before. As to the Nature and Origin of it, I shall only offer the following clear and succinct Account from the second Chapter of the first Book of the learnedBossu.

"The most considerable Difference my Subject presents me with, between the Style of the Ancients and Moderns, is, that our Way of Speaking is plain, proper, and without Circumlocution;whereas theirs was full of Mysteries and Allegories: The Truth was generally conceal'd under those ingenious Inventions, which, for their Excellence, are call'dFables, orSayings; as if there was as much Difference between those fabulous Discourses of the Wife, and the ordinary Language of the Vulgar, as there is between the Language proper to Men, and the Sounds which Beasts use, to express their Passions and Sensations.

"The first Use of Fables was to speak of the divine Nature, according to the Notions they had of it. This sublime Subject caused the first Poets to be styl'dDivines, and Poetrythe Language of the the Gods. They divided the divine Attributes, as it were, into so many Persons, because the Weakness of the Human Mind could not well conceive or explain so much Power and Action in a Simplicity so great and indivisible, as that of God is. And perhaps they were jealous of the Advantages they receiv'd from such excellent and refin'd Learning, which they thought the vulgar Part of Mankind were not worthy of.

"They could not tell us of the Operations of this Almighty Cause, without speaking, at the same Time, of its Effects: So toDivinitythey addedPhysiology, and treated of it in the same Manner, without quitting the Umbrages of their allegorical Expressions.

"ButManbeing the chief, and most noble of all the Effects which God produc'd, and nothing being so proper, or so useful toPoets, as this Subject, they added it to the former, and treated ofMoralityin the same Way that they did ofDivinityandPhysicks. And from Morality thus discours'd of, Art has form'd that Kind ofPoemand Fable which we callEpic.

"The Poets did the same Thing inMorality, which the Divines did inTheology. That infinite Variety in the divine Actions and Operations, so much above our Understanding, forc'd them, as it were, upon dividing the single Idea of the one, and uncompounded divine Essence, into several Persons, under the Names ofJupiter,Juno,Neptune, and the rest: On the contrary, the Nature ofMoral Philosophybeing such as never lays down Rules for any particular Thing, has oblig'd theEpic Poetsto unite in one single idea, in one and the same Person, and into one Action, which appear'd extraordinary, all that look'd like it in different Persons, and in different Actions, which might be thus contain'd as so manySpeciesunder theirGenus.

"Therefore, whenAristotlesays[475], φιλοσφωτερον, και σπουδαιοτερον ποιησιϛ ιστοριαϛ ισιν,That Poetry is more philosophical, and more serious, than History, he says this, not so much to magnify the Excellence of this Art, as to explain the Nature of it.Poetry, says he,teaches Morality, not by a bare Recital, as an Historian, who tells us whatAlcibiadesdid, or suffer'd, (which isAristotle's own Instance;)but by proposing all that a Person, let the Poet call him by what Name he pleases, ought either necessarily, or most probably to have said, or done, upon such an Occasion. It is in this Manner, that it lays down either the unhappy Consequences of ill-judg'd Designs, and wicked Actions; or else the Rewards of good Actions, and the Satisfaction one receives from a Design form'd by Virtue, and conducted by Prudence. Thus inEpic, according toAristotle, let the Names be what they will, yet thePersonsand theActionsare feign'd,allegorical,anduniversal, nothistoricalandparticular.[476]Ἡ μεν Ποιησιϛ μαλλον τακαθολου ἡ δ' ιστορια τα καου ἑκαστον; λεγει, i.e.Poetry represents Things rather in general, but History in particular. Horaceis likewise of the same Mind, who is not satisfy'd with saying, that Poets teachMoralityfull as well asPhilosophers; but prefersHomerto all of them:

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