And may not I say the same, in behalf of ARIOSTO and TASSO? For it
is not true that all is _unnatural_ and monstrous in their poems,
because of this mixture of the wonderful. Admit, for example, ARMIDA’S
marvellous conveyance to the happy Island; and all the rest of the
love-story is as natural, that is, as suitable to our common notions of
that passion, as any thing in VIRGIL or (if you will) VOLTAIRE.
Thus, you see, the apology of the _Italian_ poets is easily made on
every supposition. But I stick to my point, and maintain that the
Fairy tales of TASSO do him more honour than what are called the more
natural, that is, the classical parts of his poem. His imitations of
the ancients have indeed their merit; for he was a genius in every
thing. But they are faint and cold, and almost insipid, when compared
with his _Gothic_ fictions. We make a shift to run over the passages he
has copied from VIRGIL. We are all on fire amidst the magical feats of
ISMEN, and the enchantments of ARMIDA.
Magnanima mensogna, hor quando è il vero
Si bello, che si possa à te preporre?
I speak at least for myself; and must freely own, if it were not for
these _lyes_ of _Gothic_ invention, I should scarcely be disposed to
give the _Gierusalem Liberata_ a second reading.
I readily agree to the lively observation, “That impenetrable armour,
inchanted castles, invulnerable bodies, iron men, flying horses, and
other such things, are easily feigned by them that dare[58].” But, with
the observer’s leave, not so feigned as we find them in the _Italian_
poets, unless the writer have another quality, besides that of courage.
One thing is true, that the success of these fictions will not be
great, when they have no longer any footing in the popular belief:
and the reason is, that readers do not usually do as they ought, put
themselves in the circumstances of the poet, or rather of those of whom
the poet writes. But this only shews, that some ages are not so fit
to write epic poems in, as others; not, that they should be otherwise
written.
It is also true, that writers do not succeed so well in painting what
they have heard, as what they believe, themselves, or at least observe
in others a facility of believing. And on this account I would advise
no modern poet to revive these Fairy tales in an epic poem. But still
this is nothing to the case in hand, where we are considering the
merit of epic poems, written under other circumstances.
The Pagan Gods and _Gothic_ Fairies were equally out of credit when
MILTON wrote. He did well therefore to supply their room with Angels
and Devils. If these too should wear out of the popular creed (and
they seem in a hopeful way, from the liberty some late critics have
taken with them) I know not what other expedients the epic poet might
have recourse to; but this I know, the pomp of verse, the energy of
description, and even the finest moral paintings, would stand him in
no stead. Without _admiration_ (which cannot be affected but by the
marvellous of celestial intervention, I mean, the agency of superior
natures really existing, or by the illusion of the fancy taken to be
so) no epic poem can be long-lived.
I am not afraid to instance in the _Henriade_ itself; which,
notwithstanding the elegance of the composition, will in a short time
be no more read than the _Gondibert_ of Sir W. DAVENANT, and for the
same reason.
Critics may talk what they will of _Truth and Nature_, and abuse
the _Italian_ poets as they will, for transgressing both in their
incredible fictions. But, believe it, my friend, these fictions with
which they have studied to delude the world, are of that kind of
creditable deceits, of which a wise ancient pronounces with assurance,
“_That they, who deceive, are honester than they who do not deceive;
and they, who are deceived, wiser than they who are not deceived._”