Chapter XI: Part 11

But I must just take Notice, that what we have advanc'd concerning the Sublimity of this Drama, is applicable to all Tragedies, but not equally to all. For as (what I have before observ'd) there are two Sorts of Comedies; the one taken from Characters of a higher Rank, the other perfectly low: So there are two Sorts of Tragedies, the one quite sublime, the other of a more humble Nature; the first representing Kings and Heroes, and the latter, Men of private Life, but of considerable Character and Station in it. This, indeed, is intirely modern; the Punishments or Misfortunes of Tyrants, and Princes, being the only Subjects of the ancient Tragedy. We said, that tho' it is form'd upon the Calamities of private Men, yet of such whose Authority and Station in Life make them considerable; because, tho' the Afflictions of common People afford Matter for Compassion, yet not for Tragedy, their Fortunes, and their Manners, being far below the Spirit of this Sort of Poetry, and the Dignity of its Style and Versification. Some of the best Performances of our own Writers, are of this Sort, affecting us not so much with Terror, as Compassion; in exciting which, the Moderns seem far superior to the Ancients.

Tragedies, likewise, admit of another Distinction, with Regard to their Event, either fortunate, or unfortunate. It is sufficient to be true Tragedy, that Incidents of Distress and Sorrow are carried on thro' the whole, tho' the principal Persons come off fortunately at last: I say, the _principal Persons_; because even in this Species, that ends happily, it is necessary that some Characters should be unhappy in the Conclusion, especially the worst, or rather they only. For I can by no means approve of those Tragedies of ours, in which Persons of equal Innocence and Virtue, of the same Rank and Eminence, are punish'd and rewarded promiscuously. It is so, I own, in human Life; but a single Dramatic Piece is not design'd to give us an intire View of it: Let it therefore be truly one, and entirely consistent. It may, indeed, very justly leave the best, and most distinguish'd Characters, in Distress at last; which (as shall be observ'd hereafter) is the most affecting Sort of Tragedy. But if _some_ innocent and virtuous Persons are fortunate, let them be _all so_, and the bad only left miserable; otherwise the Drama will be inconsistent: And these opposite Agitations of Mind will weaken and destroy each other. Let the Audience go home either in a pleasant or melancholy Humour; if you attempt both, you succeed in neither.

But to return to the twofold Division, we observ'd, of this species of the Drama. "In Tragedies (says[440]_Vossius_) that are truly tragical, the first Scenes are usually more sedate, and the last dreadful. Thus, what a terrible Conclusion has the _Phœnissæ_ of _Euripides_, where _Oedipus_, with his Eyes put out, is by _Creon_ banish'd from _Thebes_, of which he had once been King? So, again, in his _Hecuba_, we see _Polymestor_ in the same Distress; _Hecuba_ bewailing the Murder of her Son, and the blind _Polymestor_ relating the Calamities which the Oracle had denounc'd against _Hecuba_, _Agamemnon,_ and _Cassandra_.[441]But if _Orestes_ and _Ægisthus,_ who were determin'd Enemies, had been reconcil'd, and parted without Blood-shed, the Tragedy had been less perfect. For, as we observ'd, Tragedy, in this respect, differs from Comedy, because this always ends happily, the other generally unhappily. _And such should be the Conclusion of a Tragedy, according to the Rules of Art; but sometimes an unexpected Happiness arises from the greatest Distress: when this is the Case, the Poet departs from the Rules of Art, in Compliance with the Taste of his Audience, who had rather go home chearful, than melancholy._ In the _Electra_, both of _Sophocles_ and _Euripides_, the Plot takes this prosperous Turn, tho' _Sophocles_ has shewn much greater Skill in the Conduct of it. _Sophocles_'s _Philoctetes_ in _Lemnus_, concludes in the same Way; as does _Euripides_'s _Iphigenia_ in _Aulis_; his _Iphigenia_ in _Tauri_; and _Alcestis_; where, by _Hercules_'s Assistance, _Admetus_ has his Wife restor'd. And so his _Orestes_; for when _Pylades_ and _Orestes_, incens'd at _Menelaus_, because he would not assist them against _Tyndarus_, had determin'd to put _Helena_, and his Daughter _Hermione_, to Death; _Helena,_ by the Favour of the Gods, is taken up into Heaven, and _Hermione_ (_Menelaus_ coming first to her Relief, and _Apollo_ interposing, to end the Controversy) is, by the Direction of that God, married to _Orestes_, who now expiated from his Mother's Blood, is made King of _Argos_. And his _Helena_ again, concludes happily; where she, having artfully escap'd from _Theoclymenus_, returns to her Husband _Menelaus_, and sails, with a prosperous Gale, into _Greece_. So, likewise, his Tragedies of _Hippolytus_, _Rhosus_, and _Ion_. Even _Ezekiel_, the _Jewish_ Tragic Poet, (as _Clemens Alexandrinus_ calls him, _Strom_. Book I.) was the Author of a Drama, which he entituled, Εζαγωγη, or the _bringing out_; from whence _Eusebius_ has transcrib'd no small Part into his _Evang. Præp._ Book IX. Chap. IV. And what Event could be more joyful, than the bringing that People out of _Ægypt_? _Nor does Tragedy lose its Name_, (as _Vossius_ further observes) _tho' the Conclusion is fortunate; because a melancholy Catastrophe is no Part of its Essence. Otherwise great Part of the Tragedies of_ Euripides, _that are come to our Hands, would cease to be Tragedies. Wherefore, in Respect to the Essence of this Poem, it is sufficient, if it has upon the whole the real Appearance of Distress._ So that the distinguishing Property of it may appear, in representing the doubtful and disastrous Fortunes of great Men. Tho' I cannot deny, (says he) but that such Tragedies borrow something from the Nature of Comedy. For the Nature of Tragedy is to be mournful, which is undeniable, since Terror and Commiseration are the chief Ends propos'd by it. When it is otherwise, it is only, as we said, in Compliance with the Taste of the People. Hence _Aristotle_ says, that Poets fall into this Way of Writing, δια το των θεανρον ασθενειαν, that is, to humour the wrong or weak Judgment of an Audience. But as the Populace are mutable, and inconstant, sometimes approving one Thing, sometimes another; the best Way is to keep close to the Nature of Tragedy, and not without great Necessity to depart from it."

Thus that great Man, whose Sentiments I should entirely approve of, if they did not seem, in one Particular, a little inconsistent. He says, it is not essential to Tragedies to end unhappily, which is certainly true; and yet is of Opinion, that such as do not end so, borrow something from the Turn of Comedy, because the very Nature of Tragedy is mournful. If by Nature he means the most distinguishing Property, his Opinion is, indeed, indisputable, but his Consequence is not just; because (as appears already, from both our Dissertations upon this Subject) Sorrow may be the prevailing Passion in a Drama, which, nevertheless, may conclude successfully. For every Scene of it, from the first to the last, may supply us with proper Objects of Terror and Compassion. If by Nature _Vossius_ understands the whole Essence of Tragedy, he is not only mistaken, but plainly contradicts[442] himself; as appears from the Passages already quoted. The best Way, therefore, of determining this Point, seems to be, that _both_ these Sorts are _true Tragedies_, but the one _more tragical_ than the other.

However, that which is least tragical, and ends happily, requires more Art to write, and is read with more Advantage. With Regard to the first Particular, I shall beg Leave to cite the Authority of Mr. _Dryden_. [443]"Neither is it (says he) so trivial an Undertaking, to make a Tragedy end happily; for it is more difficult to save, than it is to kill. The Dagger, and the Cup of Poison, are always in Readiness; but to bring the Action to the last Extremity, and then, by probable Means, to recover all, will require the Art and Judgment of a Writer, and cost him many a Pang in the Performance." As to the Advantage, the Rewards and Punishments, by this Means, are more equitably adjusted: Which, indeed, may be tolerably affected in those Tragedies, which end unfortunately; For there, the chief Characters, being generally wicked, meet with that Punishment they deserve, and so strike a Terror into the Audience, which is accompanied, likewise, with some Mixture of Pity; for it is not necessary they should be notoriously wicked, to merit Punishment. Besides, sometimes they _repent_ before they go off the Stage; as we have seen in two or three _English_ Tragedies lately publish'd, which have met with that Applause they justly deserv'd: And even the Punishment of Robbers and Assassins, how justly soever they may deserve it, raises some Degrees of Compassion in us. I may add, farther, that in this Kind of Tragedy the _Under-characters_, which are innocent and virtuous, may at the Conclusion be rewarded for those Virtues, whatsoever Misfortunes they have struggled with before. Upon the whole, from comparing what has been said, it is plain, that even in those Tragedies which end unhappily, there is a _Possibility_ that poetical Justice (as it is call'd) may be preserv'd: Tho' the other Sort is _better_ adapted to this Purpose, where the _chief Characters_ receive their proper Reward, the Virtuous made happy, and the Wicked miserable.

Terror is chiefly excited in us by a Representation of bad Men punish'd with Misfortunes; Pity with a Mixture of Terror, by a View of good Men under the same Circumstances; both Passions indifferently, by those who are not remarkable either for their Virtues, or their Vices. I have put the Case of good Men punish'd with Misfortunes, for it is consistent with the exactest Justice of the Drama, to make the most innocent meet the most disastrous Fate; a Sort of Tragedy the most tragical, of which our own Stage supplies us with many Instances. This Practice, I say, must be consistent with poetical Justice, which is strictly so with the divine. It was, indeed, less equitable upon the ancient Stage, when the Heathens knew very little of the Rewards and Punishments of a future State: But with us _Christians_ the Case is entirely different.

But tho' it is no Injustice to represent good Men labouring under Distress, even at the last; yet the Wicked should never come off in real Triumph, and Satisfaction: They should always, at least, be so far Sufferers, that if Death is not inflicted on them, nor any other external Punishment; yet they should feel the Anguish of their own Minds, and not enjoy any secret Satisfaction in their Vices. On the other Hand, tho' good Men, to raise our Compassion, are sometimes put to Death; yet we should, even then, see them supported by a just Consciousness of their own Innocence, and the Hopes of a better Life: For tho' the Things of this World are dispos'd of in so dark and uncertain a Manner as to make us often lament the Condition of the best of Men; yet Poets, like Preachers, should not fail to remind the Audience, that there certainly will be eternal Punishments and Rewards hereafter.

"_The best Tragedies_ (says[444]_Vossius_) _are those where the Characters are neither perfectly virtuous, nor extreamly wicked_." If this Rule is to be confin'd to some of the Characters only, it is just; but will not hold, if extended to all of them. "For the Design of Tragedy is to raise Terror and Pity." No Doubt of it. "But when the Wicked are unfortunate, we are not much dispos'd either to be terrify'd, or touch'd with Compassion at it. For _who_ (as _Tully_ says) _is ever mov'd at the Punishment of a Traitor, or a Parricide_? It should rather raise a Sort of Satisfaction in us, to think that Justice has overtaken those that have so well deserv'd it?" But, with Submission to the great Names of _Cicero_ and _Vossius_, all good and generous Minds are affected with _Compassion_ at the Execution of Rebels and Traitors; and nothing can be more _terrible_ than the Punishment inflicted upon some of them. "Nor should they be Characters of unblemish'd Virtue; for the Calamities of a good Man raise a secret Indignation; and it looks like a Sort of Inhumanity to suppose that the best of Men may be most miserable; to which I may add, that such a Representation may have some Influence in deterring weak and unthinking Minds from Virtue." There might be some Reason to believe so, if there was no other Life but the present; otherwise 'tis a weak Suspicion. Besides, is there no other Occasion to introduce good Characters upon the Stage, but to _make them miserable_? Has not he himself already[445] determin'd, that there are some Tragedies which end unhappily, and others happily? What he has farther advanc'd upon this Subject, is generally right. "Therefore the _properest_ Characters for the Stage, are those of a middle Nature, between the two Extreams of Virtue and Vice; whose Errors, rather than Crimes, make them unfortunate; as _Oedipus_ in _Sophocles_: Or who are reduc'd, by Necessity, to commit some wicked Action, it being the last Expedient; as _Medea_ first kills her Brother _Absyrtus_, and afterwards her own Children. Not that these Characters are always requisite; for _Ægisthus_ and _Clytæmnestra_ are unpardonably wicked; _Electra_ is good; _Orestes_ rather virtuous, than not; _Agamemnon_ cannot be said to be bad, for tho' he sacrifices _Iphigenia_ in _Aulis_, it is only in Obedience to the Oracle, and against his own Inclination. Nor can _Hercules_ be said to appear in an indifferent Light, but rather in a good one. Wherefore we are not to conclude that those Tragedies must be entirely condemn'd, which are not in all Respects agreeable to _Aristotle_'s Rules; but rather, that those are the best, which are conformable to them." The _most tragical_ (with Submission to the learned Author) rather than the _best_, if the Rules he speaks of are really _Aristotle_'s. For I am not satisfied, I confess, that they are his, nor does _Vossius_ direct us where to find them[446]: Otherwise I am entirely of his Opinion in the rest I have quoted from him; except that I do not perfectly understand how it is possible for Men to act wickedly, _ratione summa_[447].

[Sidenote: _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, and _to purge the Mind from them_. It remains, therefore, for us to shew, by what Means Tragedy _purges 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, a few 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 an _English 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, _Athenæus_ has quoted some elegant Verses of _Timocles_, at the Beginning of his sixth Book." And in another Place, says _Vossius_, [449]"The Design of Tragedy is to strike a Terror in the Audience, ικπληζαι, as _Polybius_ expresses it in his second Book, where he is discoursing against _Phylarchus_ of 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, why _Aristotle_ says, as we observ'd, that the End of Tragedy is to _purge the Passions_; in which he differs entirely from _Plato_, who look'd upon Tragedies as the Inflammatories of them, _Aristotle_ as 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 which _Simo_ makes in _Terence_ about deceiving _Davus_ with 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).

_Simul sceleratus Davus, si quid consili
Habet, ut consumat nunc, cum nihil obsint doli._

Taking the Question, then, in this View, the Passions may be sometimes purg'd by the Violence of their 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._

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 their _Symptoms_, (to use the Language of the Physicians) _i.e._ by their _Appearances_ and _Effects_; another to represent and _excite_ them by all the Methods of _Insinuation_ and _Allurement_. In this the later Tragedies, especially those of our own Country, are scandalously faulty: Not so the ancient, nor the _Grecian_ Writers, who shame us _Christians_, 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.

_Vossius_ seems 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 Dragons and 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." What _Scaliger_ has 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, which _Vossius_ and _Scaliger_[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 to _Lucretius_'s Observation, so often quoted:

_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 stand
And view another's Danger safe at Land:
Not 'cause he's troubled, but 'tis sweet to see
Those 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, that _no Body is miserable but by Comparison_; and it may be as truly said, that _no 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) its _reflex 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 Principle of 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_, and _Euripides_, the only _Greek_ Tragic 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 the _French_ Writers 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._

The _English_ are 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. _Rapin_ allows that they excel all the Nations in _Europe_, except his own: Whence we may be allow'd to conclude, that there is no great Reason for that Exception.

FOOTNOTES:

[421] De Art. Poet. ℣ 220.

[422] Another Reason against it is, that Τρυγωδια never signifies _Tragedy_, but _Comedy_ only. _Casaubon_, indeed, _de Satyr. Poesi_, says, it originally comprehended both. But his Opinion depends solely on the _Etymolog. Mag._ which is contradicted by all the other Lexicographers. The Authorities he produces from _Aristotle_ and _Athenæus_, make nothing for his Purpose. See _Bentley_ against _Boyle_, p. 306, 307, 308. Which I mention the rather, because the ingenious Mr. _Crusius_ has not in this, and some other Instances, profited by that learned Author's Observations.

[423] See _Vossius_ Inst. Poet. L. II. c. XI.

[424] Περι Ποιητικης, cap. VI.

[425] Inst. Poet. L. II. c. XI.

[426] Besides the Chorus, the Monologues, call'd _Cantica_, were set to Music; the Dialogues in a Kind of Recitative. See _Crusius_, _ubi supra_, § IV.

[427] Art. Poet. ℣ 179.

[428] Ibid.

[429] Art. Poet. ℣ 89.

[430] ℣ 231.

[431] Trist. L. II. ℣ 381.

[432] C. XIV.

[433] Ep. III. L. I. ℣ 14.

[434] Act. III. Scen. I.

[435] Inst. Poet. Lib. II. c. XIV.

[436] Art. Poet. ℣ 93.

[437] Sat. VI. ℣ 635.

[438] Art. Poet. ℣ 338.

[439] Ad Aug. ℣ 210.

[440] Lib. II. c. XIII. p. 68.

[441] I am at a Loss here to know what _Vossius_ means, who seems to intimate, that in the _Hecuba_ of _Euripides_, the Death of _Ægisthus_ added to the Terror and Distress of the Play. But as _Agamemnon_ himself is one of the Persons in the Drama, there could be no Thoughts of revenging a Death, which had not happen'd. In the _Electra_, there is an account of _Ægisthus_'s Death; but that Incident is not of so much Consequence there, as _Vossius_ seems to make it in the Tragedy he alludes to. It is therefore most probable, that what is here said relates to the _Electra_ of _Sophocles_; where the concluding Scene represents the meeting of _Orestes_ and _Ægisthus_, and the latter is conducted off the Stage, only to be put to Death in the same Place where he kill'd _Agamemnon_. A short Sentence has probably been originally left out in _Vossius_, which would have clear'd this Matter, in Words to this Effect; _Sic tristis exitus in Sophoclis Electra, ubi Ægisthus_, &c. It is much our Author, who, upon many other Occasions, has censur'd _Vossius_, should pass over a Mistake of this Nature.

[442] _Vossius_ guards against all the Inconsistence he is here charg'd with, which is no more than this; That it is _essential_ to a Tragedy, form'd κατα την τεχνην, to end unfortunately, but not so to one made _ad populum_. He borrow'd his Sentiment from _Aristotle_, De Arte Poetica, εστιν δε ουχ ἁυτη απο τραγωιδιας ἡδονη, αλλα μαλλον της κωμωιδιας οικεια _this is not a Pleasure that arises from Tragedy, but rather of the Nature of Comedy_, c. XIV. Ed. Heins. al. XIII.

[443] Epist. Ded. to the _Spanish Fryar_.

[444] Inst. Poet. L. II. C. XIII. p. 61.

[445] Those Tragedies that are writ according to the _nicest Rules of Art_, he said before, upon the Authority of _Aristotle_, do NOT end happily: And upon the same Authority he says, in _such_ Plays the Characters are neither extremely wicked, nor perfectly virtuous. _Aristotle_, as a Heathen, was right in his Opinion, according to Dr. _Trapp_'s Theory; _Vossius_, who follows him throughout, is not inconsistent. As to the Opinion in general, I will not pretend to determine, since it is _dignus vindice nodus_.

[446] They are very easy to be found in c. XIV. of _Aristotle_'s Art of Poetry, according to _Dan. Heinsius_'s Edition; c. XIII. in others. All that _Vossius_ has advanc'd above, is only a Comment on that Chapter. Does _Vossius_ say the BEST Tragedies are conformable to these Rules? So does _Aristotle_, ἡ μεν κατα την τεχνην καλλιστη τραγωδια εκ ταυτης της συστασεως εστι, p. m. 270, _&c._ That we are not affected with Compassion or Terror at the Sufferings of the Wicked? so does _Aristotle_, ουτε ελεεινον, ουτε φοβερον φαινεται το συμβαινον, p. 269. That a middle Character is to be chosen? so does _Aristotle_, ὁ μεταξυ αρα τουτων λοιπος, εσι δεγοιουτος, _&c._

[447] _Ratio_ in _Vossius_, is not us'd for _prudentia_, as Dr. _Trapp_ seems to take it, but in the same Sense with that noted Saying, _ratio ultima regum_, the last Expedient, or Resort of Kings. The Instances alledg'd illustrate this: _Medea_ is forc'd to kill her Brother _Absyrtus_, to secure her own Escape; and her Children afterwards, to prevent them from falling into such Hands as would execute greater Cruelties upon them. The Circumstance of _Oedipus_, made unfortunate not by real Crimes, is very well describ'd by Mr. _Lee_:

To you, good Gods, I make my last Appeal,
To clear my Virtues, or my Crimes reveal:
If in the Maze of Fate I blindly run,
And backward trod those Paths I ought to shun,
Impute my Errors to your own Decree;
My Hands are guilty, but my Heart is free.

[448] Inst. Poet. L. II. c. XI. p. 47.

[449] Inst. Poet. L. II. c. XIII. p. 65.

[450] Ter. And. Act I. Scen. I.

[451] Inst. Poet. L. II. c. XI. p. 47.

[452] Poet. Lib. III. p. 373.

[453] Both borrow their Solution from _Aristotle_, c. IV. who tells us, that the _Pleasure_ the Mind takes is, in _learning_ the Likeness between the Representation and the Original.

[454] Lib. II. ℣ 1.

[455] See this beautifully illustrated, in Mr. _Pope_'s _Ethic Epistles_, III. 270, _&c._

[456] Mr. _Addison_ has treated this Subject with great Accuracy, in _The Spectator_, Vol VI. No. 418.

LECTURE XXIX, _&c._
_Of_ EPIC, _or_ HEROIC POETRY.

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. What _Scaliger_ said of _Buchanan_, tho' in a Strain of excessive Flattery, when applied to a _Man_; may be justly true of a _Thing_, of Epic Poetry in particular:

_Namque ad supremum perducta Poetica culmen
In 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. _Rapin_ has 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 to say 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 the _Poetic 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 sic
Altera 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_, a _French_ Gentleman, 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. The _Nature_ of 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: The _Matter_ includes the Action and the Fable, under which are rang'd the Incidents, Episodes, Characters, Morals, and Machinery; the _Form_ comprehends 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 the Ornaments and Decorations of the Poem. The _End_ is 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 just _to mention_ the several Parts of Epic Poetry, tho' I do not design to _enlarge_ upon 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 of _Bossu_ where 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, that Distinction between these two Sons of Poetry, which the Nature of them required; and interspersing, now and then, the Praises of _Homer_. 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 not _adventitious_ to 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 not _collateral_, but _direct_ Parts 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, be _one_, as well as in Tragedy; tho' it may, and ought to be 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. _Aristotle_ expressly says, that as to Time, there is no fixing it to any determin'd Period. _Homer_'s _Iliad_ does not contain above the Space of forty-seven Days[460]; the _Odyssee_ (as _Bossu_[461], and, after him, _Dacier_, are of Opinion) takes up eight Years, and six Months; the _Æneid_ almost 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 the _Æneid_, 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 that _Æneas_ set Sail from one of the Ports of _Sicily_:

_Vix è conspectu Siculæ telluris in altum._ I. 38.

And taking the Question in this View, Mons. _Segrais_, in the Preface to his admirable _French_ Translation of the _Æneid_, has demonstrated, that the Action of that divine Poem falls within the Compass of one Year. And we may observe almost the same Thing of _Homer_'s _Odyssee_.

I think _Dacier_ has mistaken the Meaning of _Aristotle_ in another Place, tho' there, also, he follows _Bossu_; and that is, with Regard to the Actions or Adventures of the Persons. Epic (says that Philosopher) is μιμησις σπουδαιων, which _Dacier_ translates 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, that _not the Person only, but the Action, should be illustrious_. All the Actions, even of _Alexander_ or _Cæsar_, _Achilles_ or _Æneas_, are surely not proper for Epic. I agree, therefore, that _Aristotle_ must be understood to mean the Actions of Heroes; but then he would also imply, the Actions of Heroes, as Heroes. And, no doubt, _Horace_ was of the same Opinion, (tho' _Dacier_ brings him in as an Evidence on his Side) when he says,

_Res gestæ regumque, ducumque._

_i.e._ considering them as Kings and Generals; for the Words immediately following, which _Dacier_ takes no Notice of, are,

----_& tristia bella._

What _Bossu_ further advances[463] in Support of his Opinion, is of no great Moment, _viz._ that the little Enmities in the _Iliad_, and in the _Odyssey_ the Return of an Exile into his Country, are Actions equally suitable to private Men and Heroes. I confess, (and so does he) that _Æneas_'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 by _Homer_, with their heroical Circumstances, could not but have been great, tho' they had been done by private Men. In the _Iliad_, indeed, and more especially in the _Odyssey_, some Things are related below the Majesty of Epic; as for Instance, what the Poet tells us of _Ulysses_'s Herdsman and Swineherd; which _Ovid_ has thought fit to copy in _Penelope_'s Epistle to that Chief:

_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. _Virgil_ has nothing of this Kind; who has a much better Right than _Homer_ to that Encomium of _Horace_[465],

----_Qui nil molitur inepte._

Throughout the _Æneid_ there is nothing mean, nothing dishonourable, nothing that is not truly heroic. As to the forming of a Hero, he is not to be represented adorn'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. _Ulysses_ and _Æneas_, indeed, are at no great Distance from it; but what Sort of a Hero is _Achilles_!

_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, the _Manner of the Representation_, and the _Event_, or _Catastrophe_. As to the former, it is certain, that Tragedy is form'd upon Action, and Epic upon Narration. For what _Aristotle_ says of Epic,[467] ὁτι δει τους μυθους καθαπερ ἑν ταις τραγωδιαις συνισταναι δραματικους, _that the Fable, as in Tragedy, ought to be dramatical_, it is plain, from the very Words, must be understood of the _Fable_, 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 the _Form_, or _Manner of representing_, or _imitating_, 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 is _generally_ unfortunate, but _never_ so in Epic; the Reasons of which Rule are, _First_, The Examples of _Homer_, and _Virgil_, who are, and ought te be our Guides, and Masters; even _Achilles_, the Hero of the Poem as he is, tho' very undeservedly, comes off with Success; and much more should _Ulysses_ and _Æneas_. In this Particular these Writers have been universally follow'd by all, who wou'd be thought Epic Writers; for which Reason, _Statius_ (as _Bossu_ has observ'd) rather chose to break the Unity of the Action, than make his _Thebais_ end unfortunately, after the miserable Fratricide of _Eteocles_ and _Polynices_. 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. _Bossu_ inclines to this Opinion, nay, _expressly_ determines, that this is the _truer_ Conduct. I have ventur'd to advance a Step further, being of Opinion, for the Reasons now alledg'd, it is not only 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) _specific_ Differences, the others are only _accidental_; those are Differences in _Nature_, these only in _Degree_, _Extent_, or _Greatness_.

[Sidenote: _Thirtieth Lecture._]

The Moderns seem to mistake that Part of Epic and Tragedy which contains the το θαυμασον, or the _wonderful_, confounding the _wonderful_ with the _improbable_, 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, in _Homer_, that the Horses should speak; and, in _Virgil_, that the Myrtle Roots should drop Blood, is wonderful, but not improbable: For our most ingenious Translator of _Homer_ seems 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,
And _Mars_, who o'er the _Getic_ Field presides,
The Omen to avert, and grant Success.

But plainer still, in what follows:

_Monstra deum refero._

As to _Homer_, he, in express Terms, asserts, that _Juno_ made the Horse speak[471]:

Αυδηεντα δο εθηκε θεα λευκωλεν Ἡρη.

Then, strange to tell, (so _Juno_ will'd) he broke
Eternal 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 of _Polyphemus_, and the other _Cyclops_, in _Homer_ and _Virgil_. That there were really Giants, is an Opinion, which not only the Ancients believ'd, but the Scriptures have confirm'd: But whether _such_ Giants were ever in Being, as are there describ'd, is a Point of no Moment. Therefore _Virgil_'s Description of _Polyphemus_ is very injudiciously censur'd by some Criticks:

[472]----_Graditurque per æquor
Jam medium, nec dum fluctus latera ardua tinxit._

Then stalk'd along
Thro' the mid Ocean; nor did yet the Waves
Tinge his tall Sides.

And afterwards:

_Clamorem immensum tollit; quo pontus, & omnes.
Intramuere undæ, penitusque exterrita tellus
Italiæ, curvisque immugiit Ætna cavernis._

He rais'd a hideous Yell; at which the Sea
Trembled, and all its Waves: _Italia_ quak'd;
And _Ætna_ bellow'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 own _Homer_ has a few Examples of the improbable; and there is one Instance of this Kind in _Virgil_; I mean where _Camilla_ is describ'd in those most elegant Verses,

_Illa vel intactæ segetis per summa volaret
Gramina, nec teneras cursu læsisset aristas;
Aut mare per medium fluctu suspensa tumenti
Ferret 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.