Gottsched took the classical branch of t_A history of criticism and literary taste in Europe from the earliest texts to the present day. Volume 2 (of 3), From the Renaissance to the decline of eighteenth century orthodoxy

quarrelled with others, like a good party man, as he realised that they

were taking the Romantic. [Sidenote: _The_ Versuch einer Critischen

Dichtkunst.] His _Versuch einer Critischen Dichtkunst_[735] is

frontispieced with a striking picture of Apollo, and the Muses, and

Pegasus looking benignly at Bellerophon(?), whom he is just pitching

off, and Mercury, probably flying, but in appearance rather tumbling,

down the Holy Hill, with a copy of Horace in his hand, and a group of

critics and poets and personified Kinds of poetry waiting to receive it

in ecstatic attitudes at the bottom. It has three separate

dedication-pages, in the largest print, to three fair ladies of the same

family,—the high-born Countess and Lady, Lady Ernestine Wilhelmine,

widowed Baroness von Plotho, born Reichsgräfinn von Manteufel, “my

especially gracious Countess and Lady”; the high-born Countess Johanna

Henrietta Constantia, born the same, “my especially gracious Countess”;

and my ditto the high-born Countess Louisa Marianne, born the same,—not

to mention a beautiful Ode, several Prefaces, an Introduction, and the

full text, with translation in German Alexandrines, of the _Ars Poetica_

itself. If writer and reader do not feel themselves safe under the

convoy of all these charming spells and periapts, it is surely a pity.

-----

Footnote 735:

My copy is the third edition, Leipsic, 1742. The first is, I think, of

1730.

-----

It would, however, be most uncritical, and entirely unjust to Gottsched,

to assert or insinuate that his apparatus is mere matter of parade.

[Sidenote: _Its chief idea._] On the contrary, the preface to the second

edition first enumerates as “the greatest connoisseurs and masters of

Poetic,” Aristotle, Horace, Longinus, Scaliger, Boileau, Bossu, Dacier,

Perrault, Bouhours, Fénelon, Saint-Evremond, Fontenelle, La Motte,

Corneille, Racine, Callières, Furetière, Shaftesbury, Addison, Steele,

Castelvetro, Muralt, and Voltaire. For all of whom, except where (like

Béat de Muralt, for instance) they have been reserved for reasons,[736]

reference may be made to other pages of the present History. It

afterwards specially alleges, as additional authorities, Riccoboni’s

history of the Italian Stage, an anonymous _Paragone della Poesia

Tragica d' Italia con quella de Francia_ which I have not seen, Rapin,

Brumoy [spelt Brumo_is_], Hédelin, Rémond de Saint-Mard, an English

_anonymus_[737] on _The Taste of the Town_, Ramsay, Pope, Casaubon,

Heinsius, Voss, Rappolt, and Sebastian Regulus his Imitations of the

First Book of the _Æneis_ (which last I have not read and do not think I

intend to read). In the Preface to the Third Edition his quarrel with

the Swiss school breaks out. We shall see in future, I trust, what this

school taught; it is here of chief, if not of only, import to know what,

according to Gottsched, the “Zürichers” (_i.e._, those about Bodmer) did

_not_ teach and he did. “While I,” he says in mingled pride and

indignation, “after treating of poetry in general, have dealt with all

its Kinds, and given its own rules to each, so that beginners may turn

them out impeccably, the Zürich poetic has nothing of the sort.” “Man

would,” adds Gottsched incredulously and detesting, “thereout neither an

Ode nor a Cantata, neither an Eclogue nor an Elegy, neither a Verse

Epistle nor a Satire, neither an Epigram nor a Song of Praise, neither

an Epic nor a Tragedy, neither a Comedy nor an Opera to make

learn!”[738]

-----

Footnote 736:

Callières, a diplomatist and Academician, who wrote a good deal on

various subjects, in his later years, has been referred to under Swift

(p. 450). For more on him and his _Histoire poétique de la guerre des

A. et des M._, _v._ Rigault, _op. cit._, pp. 213-217. As to Furetière,

the agreeable author of the _Roman Bourgeois_ seemed to me to lie too

far outside any possible limits here, though, of course, there are

critical touches in his work. Some might even reckon, as an important

if rather excessive testimony to the rise of the novel, the curious

picture of the girl Javotte—pretty but innocent to the verge of

idiocy—turned into an accomplished and intelligent young lady by the

mere reading of the _Astrée_. Furetière even defends this

representation by serious argument (_Roman Bourgeois_, i. 171 _sq._,

ed. Jannet, 2 vols., Paris, 1878).

Footnote 737:

This was James Ralph—the “Ralph to Cynthia howls” of Pope. It appeared

in 1731, and deals with public amusements, from the theatre (which it

defends from Prynne and Collier) to cock-fighting, auctions, and

“Henley’s oratory.” It is rather amusing, and by no means, as Mr Pope

calls its author, “wholly illiterate.”

Footnote 738:

It is notable that, since the beginning of the twentieth century,

critics of the youngest school have been found Gottschedising in this

sense, and proposing to judge the worth or worthlessness of criticism

on similar cookery-book lines. I have seen an excellent critic rebuked

by a reviewer for not “showing how to _do_ something”—as if he were a

dancing-master.

-----

The Slurk-and-Pott objurgation which follows concerns us little. But the

passage just quoted has real weight. For it shows how, to the absolute

and half-incredulous horror of one party, and probably by the not

entirely conscious or intentional purpose of the other, the battle of

Rule-poetic against Appreciation-poetic had begun. To Gottsched the Art,

or Science, or what-not, of Poetry is a huge schedule, which may be

quite emptied of actual contents and yet retain its pre-established

compartments and the rules for filling them; to his adversaries Poetry

itself is a library, a treasury, a new world full of things and persons

that cause, or do not cause, the poetic pleasure.

It would be unnecessary to analyse this not quite “the poor last” of

Classical _Poetics_. [Sidenote: _Specimen details._] It may be

sufficient to say that Gottsched has his first or general and his second

or particular book, the first dealing with the origin and growth of

poetry, the character and taste of a poet, the species of poetic

imitation, the Wonderful in poetry, the Admirable in poetry, and the

like, the second with the usual Kinds in regular order. His occasional

utterances are, at this stage of the history, of far greater importance.

We find (p. 86) the sonnet classed with madrigals, rondeaux, and other

“little things which are worth little.” The old German _Heldengedichten_

are (p. 88), if not so good as Homer, Virgil, and Voltaire, yet not so

bad as Marino, Ariosto, Chapelain, Saint-Amand, and Milton.[739] Later

(p. 109), “Among Englishmen, who are specially inclined to excessive

fantasy, Milton in his _Paradise Lost_ has exhibited everything that man

can possibly do in this kind of _schwärmerei_.” It is well to remember

that the detested Zürichers were special admirers of Milton; but there

is no reason to suspect Gottsched of being unduly biassed by this,

either here or in the longer examination which he gives to Milton’s sins

afterwards. He is almost as severe on Ariosto (p. 209), arguing with

unruffled gravity that the discoveries of Astolfo (which he sums up as

solemnly as a judge) are not probable, and finishing with the sad

observation that the Italian’s fantasies are really more like a sick

man’s dream than like the reasonable inventions of a poet.

-----

Footnote 739:

Gottsched, like a true _Klassiker_, dislikes and distrusts romance,

ancient as well as modern, prose as well as verse, in and for itself.

“Romance writers,” he says (at p. 167), “know as little of the rules

of poetic imitation as of true morality.”

-----

The good Gottsched, in fact, is an apostle not so much even of

classicism as of that hopeless _prosaism_ to which classicism lent

itself but too easily.[740] Even Voltaire is not sufficiently

_wahrscheinlich_ for him; and he asks (pp. 183, 215) in agitated tones

whether Herr Voltaire, who has elsewhere such sound ideas on the Highest

of Beings, has not made a mistake in the magic scenes of the _Henriade_?

He is, however, no friend to prosaic diction, and stoutly defends what

he calls (p. 263) “good florid expression,”[741] giving some better

examples, from poets like Amthor and Flemming, than those who regard the

German seventeenth century as a mere desert might expect. So long as he

can get these flights under the recognised Figures, and so long as they

do not outstep “the rules of prudence” (273), all is well. But the

outstepping, as may be guessed, is not very far off. He finds it, under

the guidance of Bouhours, in Malherbe of all remarkable places, and

naturally much more in Hoffmanswaldau and Lohenstein, as well as in

Ariosto and Marino and Gracián,—being as severe on _galimatias_ and

“Phébus” as he had previously (and quite justly) been against that

medley of German-French which Opitz had long before condemned. There is,

in fact, a good deal of sense as well as of minuteness in Gottsched’s

particular rules, both as to poetry in general and as to the Kinds. In

dealing with these last he gives very extensive examples, and since

these are taken from a division of poetry not much in most readers’ way,

they are distinctly interesting. But we must not follow him into these

details; nor is it at all necessary to do so. The neo-classic critic has

at least the virtue of adhering to his own rules, and observing his own

type, with Horatian strictness. There is little danger of finding in him

a politic Achilles, a prudent youth, or an old man who is good-humoured

and does not praise the past. Gottsched says of Epic and Romance, of

Comedy and Tragedy, exactly what we should expect him to say, if not

exactly what we may think he ought to have said. He cannot understand

how Tasso could hope to “unite this Gothic taste of chivalrous books”

(p. 682) with the Greek rules of Heroic poetry; and he makes so bold as

almost to rebuke the great Voltaire for according the name of Heroic

poem to the _Lusiad_ and the _Araucana_. But there is a characteristic

note in the words, “It is time to leave the historic-critic part and

come to the dogmatic,” which, it seems, we shall find—all of it—in

Aristotle, Dacier, and Le Bossu. It is, in a different relation, like

Balzac’s _passons aux choses réelles_—“Never mind the Poems: come to the

Rules!”

-----

Footnote 740:

Thus we are to divide the Wonderful in Poetry (p. 171) into three

parts—like _omnis Gallia_! One may hesitate whether to emend “three

thousand” or “three million.”

Footnote 741:

He quotes a passage which he calls _ein Muster des guten verblümten

Ausdruckes_.

-----

Gellert, a pupil of Gottsched, at any rate for a time, and a pretty poet

in his own way, betrays that tendency to compromise, if not actually to

capitulate, which we have seen in parts of French Classicism. [Sidenote:

_Gellert: he transacts._] His principal critical tractate[742] carries a

confession in its very title, “How far the Use of the Rules extends in

Rhetoric and Poetry,” and the confession is emphasised in the text. It

comes to this—that the Rules are useful, but only generally so, and with

a “thus far and no further.” It is evident that, when this point is

reached, the Oppression of Gwenhidwy is on the eve of descending upon

the land of Gwaelod, the dykes are bursting, and the sea is flowing

in.[743] We saw just now Gottsched’s indignant horror at the idea of

writing upon poetry without giving rules to anybody how he shall do

anything. He must have been more horrified still, because there is an

element of treacherous surrender instead of bold defiance in it, at this

other view of the rules as not bad things in their way—to be followed

when it is convenient and when you please, and broken or left behind

when it is convenient, or when you please again. In fact, any such

admission at once reduces the whole Neoclassic system to an absurdity. A

law which may be obeyed or not exactly as people choose—a sealed pattern

which is followed or not at the taste and fancy of the tailor or other

craftsman—you surely cannot too soon repeal the first and throw the

second into the dustbin. And this was, as we shall see, what Germany

very speedily did.

-----

Footnote 742:

In the 7th vol. (pp. 117-154) of his _Works_, 10 vols., Berne,

1774-75.

Footnote 743:

See _The Misfortunes of Elphin_.

-----

INTERCHAPTER VI.

§ I. THE NEMESIS OF CORRECTNESS.

§ II. THE BALANCE-SHEET OF NEO-CLASSIC CRITICISM.

In the present Interchapter, as in that at the close of the former

volume, it seems desirable to make the summary twofold: in the first

place, with reference to the Book which the chapter immediately follows,

so as to provide a corresponding view to that given by the Interchapters

of the two earlier Books in the volume itself; in the second, surveying

the State of Criticism—with a look before and after—at the period which

we have reached. This survey is here of even more importance than it was

on the former occasion because of the greater—in fact the almost

absolute—homogeneity of the subject. But it comes second in order, and

for the moment we must busy ourselves only with that portion or side of

Eighteenth-Century Criticism itself which has been considered in the

last three chapters.

In one way Eighteenth-Century criticism has a very notable advantage

over Seventeenth and Sixteenth. In the earliest of the three, as we saw,

criticism exists almost without a critic. Its authorities are either men

of something less (to speak kindly) than the first rank as men of

letters, or else they devote only a slight and passing attention to the

subject. In the Seventeenth this is not quite so, for Dryden is a host

in himself, and Boileau, to name nobody else, is no common man of

letters.

But in the Eighteenth the case is far more altered. English and French,

the two leading literatures of Europe, are copiously and intensely

critical, if not entirely according to knowledge. Addison, Johnson,

Pope, Voltaire, are all dictators of literature, whose fame and

authority, in the case at least of the two last, go far beyond their own

country—and they are all critics. In another country, though in a

division, for reasons, not yet noticed, Goethe, who, if any one, is the

representative man of letters in his own nation, is a critic. The second

class of names—mentioned or to be mentioned—Vico, Shaftesbury, Lessing,

Gray, Buffon, Diderot, and others, approaches very nearly, if it does

not sometimes reach, the first rank. Moreover, criticism has enormously

_multiplied_ its appearances and opportunities of appearance: it has, in

a manner, become popular. The critical Review—the periodical by means of

which it is possible, and becomes easy, to give critical account of the

literature, not merely of the past but of the present—becomes common.

The critic as such is no longer regarded as a mere pedant; he at least

attempts to take his place as a literary man of the world. If Italy and

Spain fail—even allowing for the remarkable Italian critical group at

the beginning of the century—to justify their old reputation, Germany,

on the other hand, begins that career of critical hard labour to which

she has apparently sentenced herself in perpetuity, and relieves it with

more excursions into the fairer letters than of late. The French, though

subject more severely than men of any other country to the idols of the

time, continue to justify themselves both in the lighter and the severer

critical work.

But the contribution of England is the most interesting of all. Our

position at the time may be compared, with some advantage and no danger

of straining, to that of Spain at a somewhat earlier period (see pp.

338-350). We do not indeed find, in any English critic after Dryden,

formal expressions of such weight and pregnancy in the Romantic

direction as those which the sharp-sightedness and patience of Señor

Menéndez y Pelayo have extracted from the Spanish Preceptists. But the

general tendency is even more comprehensive, if not yet catholic. In

consequence, very mainly, of Dryden’s own magnificent championship of

Shakespeare and Milton, it was, by the beginning of the eighteenth

century, felt in England that these two at any rate had to be reckoned

with; while Chaucer also had the same powerful recommendation, and

Spenser had never lost the affection of the fit, though for a time they

might be few. With these four to be somehow or other—by hook or by

crook—taken into consideration, it was impossible for the worst harm to

be done; and the peculiarities of English character, combined with the

more vigorous condition of English creative literature, made the

compromise work far better than that which had been in a manner

entertained in Spain on the subject of Lope and Calderon. It might have

been dangerous if Johnson had written the _Lives_ at the age which was

Pope’s when he wrote the _Essay on Criticism_; but this danger also the

Fortune of England—kindest of Goddesses, and most abused in her

kindness, yet justified of Fate!—averted.

We shall, it is to be hoped, be able to show in the next volume how

these conditions of Classicism in the several countries affected the

rise or resurrection of Romanticism. For the present we must confine

ourselves to the way in which they affected Classicism itself.

For the purpose we need not repeat, or even recapitulate, what has been

said of its fortunes in Germany, Italy, and Spain, save to say that in

the first-named country it only appeared to disappear, while in the

other two it suffered increasing decrepitude. England and France are

much more important and interesting subjects of consideration and

comparison.

In both, as we saw, Neo-classicism is undoubtedly the accepted orthodoxy

of the time. If that draft confession of Faith, which has been sketched

in a former page, had been laid before an assembly of the leading men of

letters in both countries, many might have taken exception to its actual

form; but as for its spirit, there is hardly a Frenchman who would have

refused to accept it, while not many Englishmen would have done so. At

the same time—until, towards the later years of the century, the

“alarums and excursions” of the Romantic rising recalled the orthodox to

strictness—a more searching examination would have revealed serious

defections and latitudinarianisms. Pope was perhaps the most orthodox

neo-classic, in criticism as in creation, of the greater men of letters

of the time; but Pope was fond of Spenser. Addison had never thoroughly

cleared his mind up about criticism; but many things in him point the

Romantic way, and we know that some of the more orthodox thought him

weak and doubtful. Voltaire, at one time, had considerable leanings

towards both Shakespeare and Milton; and we have seen how Johnson,

though he resisted and recovered himself, was at least once within

appreciable distance of that precipice of “judging by the event,” over

which, when a Classic once lets himself slip, he falls for ever and for

ever through the Romantic void.

Of lesser men we need not speak much—reference to what has been said

above of the escapades of Fontenelle and Marmontel, of Steele and Kames,

is sufficient. But all these things were as the liberalities of a

securely established orthodoxy, estated and endowed, dreading no

disturbance, and able to be generous to others—even to indulge itself a

little in licence and peccadillo. Everywhere but in England the vast

majority of men, and even in England all but a very small minority, had

no doubt about the general principles of the Neo-classic Creed. They

still judged by Rules and Kinds; they still had the notion that you must

generalise, always generalise; they still believed that, in some way or

other, Homer and Virgil—especially Virgil—had exhausted the secrets of

Epic, and almost of poetry; and, above all, they were entirely

unprepared to extend patient and unbiassed judgment to something

acknowledged, and acknowledging itself, to be _new_. On the contrary,

they must still be vindicating even things which they liked, but which

appeared to them to be novel, on the score of their being so very like

the old—as we saw in the case of Blair and _Ossian_.

The Nemesis of this their Correctness, as far as creation is concerned,

in prose to some extent, but still more in verse, has been described

over and over again by a thousand critics and literary historians. The

highest and most poetical poetry they could not write at all—except when

they had, like Collins, and Smart, and Blake, a little not merely of

_furor poeticus_, but of actual insanity in their constitution, or when

they violated their own rules by transgressing into pure nature-poetry

or into intense realism of anthropology. In their own chosen way they

could at best achieve the really poetical rhetoric, but at the same time

strictly rhetorical poetry, of Pope, and, in a lower range, of

Akenside.[744] For prose they had the luck to discover, in the Novel, a

Kind which, never having been to any great extent practised before, was

a Kind practically without rules, and so could make or neglect its rules

for itself. In another, not quite so new, their performance gave

striking instance of their limitations. The Periodical Essay was a thing

of almost infinite possibilities: but because it had happened at first

to be written in a certain form by persons of genius, they turned

practice into Kind and Rule once more, and for nearly the whole

century—not merely in England—went on imitating the _Spectator_.

-----

Footnote 744:

I take these examples all from English merely to avoid confusion. The

case in French is even clearer.

-----

In Criticism itself the effects were not wholly different, though of

course to some extent apparently dissimilar. We have seen how, during

the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the necessary and ineluctable

set of the critical current towards full and free “judging of authors”

seems to have been resisted by a sort of unconscious recalcitrance on

the part of critics; yet how they are drawn nearer and nearer to it,

and, in Dryden’s case at any rate, achieve admirable results. By the

eighteenth, in all countries, the tendency becomes irresistible. The

interest in literature, the bent and occupations of men of letters great

and small, the new institution of periodicals—all combine to strengthen

it: and every kind of critical estimate, from the elaborate literary

history to the brief review, begins to be written, and is written, ever

more copiously.

This was what criticism wanted; and it could not but do good. Yet the

results illustrated, as mere abstract treatises never could have done,

the deficiencies of the common critical theory. The writers save

themselves, as a rule, from the worst mistakes by simply ignoring that

of which they are ignorant. But in regard to the things with which they

do deal the inadequacy and the hamper of their theory are sufficiently

apparent.

Of course the deficiencies of Eighteenth-century criticism are to be

easily matched with other, and sometimes opposite, deficiencies in other

times. It takes considerably more pains to get at something like a real

appreciation of its subject, something more than a bare reference to

schedule, than had been the case, either in ancient times or in the two

centuries immediately preceding. It is very much better furnished with a

critical theory (whether good or bad does not at the moment matter) than

has usually been the case with Criticism from the early years of the

nineteenth century to the early years of the twentieth. It is not even

intentionally ignorant—its ignorance only proceeds from a mistaken

estimate of things as worth or not worth knowing; and there is rarely to

be found in it the bland assumption that “I like this,” or perhaps

rather, “I choose to say I like this,” will settle everything, which has

been not entirely unknown later. But it combines, in a fashion already

perhaps sufficiently illustrated, the awkwardness of dogmatism and of

compromise; and it is perhaps more exposed to those two terrible

questions, “Why?” and “Why Not?” which are the Monkir and Nakir of all

critics and all criticism, than the criticism of any other period. It is

difficult to see how a critic such as Dennis could give any reasons for

admiring Shakespeare at all, save ethical ones; and it is quite certain

that a persistent _Te sequar_ with the “Why Not?” will dispose of almost

all the stock eighteenth-century objections both to Shakespeare and to

all other suspected persons. In a certain way La Harpe had the advantage

of all his predecessors, for he was at least consistent.

The theory not merely of the _authades kallos_, the “head-strong

beauty,” but of the “monstrous beauty”—the beauty which is beautiful but

has no business to be so, the miracle-working power which does work

miracles, but is to be forbidden as _magia nigra_, because it does not

work them according to the rules—may seem itself so monstrous as to be a

patent _reductio ad absurdum_. In fact it acted as such. Yet the logic

of it is undeniable. It had all along been the unspoken word, but the

word that ought to have been spoken, and had to be spoken some day. Nor

need we grudge the admission that it was in a certain sense better than

the practice (which had been often resorted to before, and which has not

seldom been resorted to since) of absolutely denying the beauty

altogether, with the possible result of being, after a time, honestly

unable to see it.

A certain number of points, affecting the criticism and the taste of the

Eighteenth century in particular, remains to be noticed briefly before

we pass to the consideration of the Neo-classic Dispensation generally.

In the first place, both could not fail to be influenced most powerfully

by the constant growth of literature in volume; by the appearance,

almost for the first time in large numbers, of the man of letters by

profession; and, lastly, by certain changes in general education, and so

in the quality of writers and readers. To say that the general reader

first made his appearance about 1660, in what were to be thenceforward

the two great literary countries of Europe, would be an exaggeration,

but only an exaggeration, of the truth. He certainly increased and

multiplied in both thenceforward; and, by an inevitable consequence, at

once created the vocation of the writer and determined the cast and

quality of the things written. Matters like the continued _engouement_

of the French court and French society for literature, and the alternate

exaltation and depression, the Secretaryships of State and the Grub

Street kennels, for it in England, only concern us indirectly; but they

do concern us. Prosperity and patronage enticed the literary man to

work; poverty and contempt drove him to it, if only to hack-work.

Influences came, too, from the subdivision of Kinds, the specialisation

of study required, the reduction of mere erudition among those who were

not specialists. I should suppose that, taking the average reading of

those who had any reading at all, the late sixteenth century, with a

great part of the seventeenth, was the most erudite time in the known

history of the world. The level of general erudition has been constantly

declining since, though with some fluctuations; and it was at a

specially low level during the later eighteenth century. Although it is

an auxiliary on whose aid Romantic criticism—or rather that catholic

criticism which is neither Classic nor Romantic exclusively, but both

and more than both—can by no means pride herself, there is little doubt

that the increasing neglect of the classics did help to discredit the

criticism which chiefly appealed to them; while the constantly growing

attention to certain kinds of physical science could not but tell upon

the purely literary estimate. The historical studies which were so great

a characteristic of the later century could not, again, but be powerful

unsettlers of the fixed point of view; the ever-growing popularity of

the novel was constantly lifting into greater prominence a kind of which

the ancients had practically taken no notice at all; the equally

constant development of the newspaper was always adding writers, who

knew little of ancient rules, on subjects of which the ancients had

never thought. Even without the special literary influences which we may

hope to consider in the next Book, the general trend of habit and event

made for a change in criticism; and such a change was imperatively

called for, at once by that _reductio ad absurdum_ of neo-classic

strictures, and by that illogical tolerance of certain great writers of

the past, to which we have given the joint name and status of its

Nemesis.[745]

-----

Footnote 745:

One word to guard against a possible supposition that the writer

supposes Classicism dead. Nothing in literature dies: things only wane

and wax, retire and come forward again. At this very moment there is

even a sort of Classical reaction, which has shown itself in France

for a long time and is showing itself in England now. When people are

asking, not whether _Old Mortality_, and _Vingt Ans Après_, and

_Esmond_, and _Westward Ho!_ are good _books_, but whether the

Historical novel is a good _Kind_,—when they argue, not that a play is

decent, or sensible, or brilliant as literature, but that it is a

“problem”-play, and therefore sacred—John Barleycorn is going to get

up again, not to the surprise at all of historical students.

-----

II.

We now have before us the more important, but also the more difficult,

task of summing up the achievements and the shortcomings of the whole

period covered by this volume—the _only_ period, be it remembered, in

which Criticism was regarded from the point of view of a commonly

accepted, if not very commonly understood, orthodoxy. This of itself is

an advantage, which, though it has not recently counted for very much,

will never be overlooked by true critics. Even if we drop the _quod

semper_, the _quod ubique, quod ab omnibus_ has a weight which leaves it

wholly for the other side to show case and cause against. Orthodoxy may

be really right—really _ortho_dox; on that head it has at least an even

chance against any of its opponents. Even if it is not, it has merits

which they can rarely claim. It has no temptations for the clever fool,

who is perhaps on the whole the most pestilent, intellectually, of human

beings. It demands a certain amount of self-abnegation, which is always

a good thing. It does not perhaps really offer any greater temptation to

the merely stupid than does the cheap heterodoxy of other times. Above

all, it directly tends to a certain intellectual calmness—to an absence

of fuss, and worry, and pother, which is certainly not one of the least

characteristics of the Judge. At all times the wise man would rather be

orthodox than not; and at most times, though not quite at all, the

wisest men have been orthodox, if only because they have recognised that

every opinion has some amount of truth in it, and that this truth,

_plus_ the advantages of orthodoxy just mentioned, is greatest, and

should prevail.

This will be recognised by all fair-minded persons as a handsome

allowance in any case; it is surely a particularly handsome allowance

when the arbiter happens not to be a partisan of the orthodoxy in

question. And it is quite sincere. The present writer has emerged from

the serious and consecutive examination of “classical” critics,

necessary for the writing of this volume, with a distinctly higher

opinion of them generally, with a higher opinion in most cases in

particular, than he held previously on piecemeal and imperfect

acquaintance. It is only in such a case as that of Boileau—where an

almost consummate faculty of expression masks really small critical

gifts, and where the worst faults of the critical character, personal

rudeness and spite, are continually lurking behind what seem to be

systematic judgments—that the result of the reading has gone the other

way. At the same time, if we take the true reading of _illud Syrianum_,

“Judex damnatur [_capitis_ cum [_in_]nocens [_culpatur vel minime_],”

then the case of the criticism with which we have been dealing becomes

somewhat parlous. It is all the worse because its worsening is gradual

and continuous. The sins of the earliest Renaissance criticism are sins

chiefly of neglect, and are not as a rule aggravated by commission;

while its merits are very great. We could have done nothing without it:

at best we should have had to do for ourselves all that it has done for

us. But the bad side of the matter betrays itself in the code-making of

the seventeenth century; it is but imperfectly and unsatisfactorily

disguised in the compromises of the earlier eighteenth; and it appears

in all its deformity in the La Harpian recrudescence.

The fault of the whole is undoubtedly but an aggravation of what in

Ancient Criticism could hardly be called with justice a fault at all,

though it was even there a serious defect—the absence, that is to say,

of a wide enough collection of instances from the past, and of an

elastic and tolerant system of trial and admission for the present and

future. We may _now_[746] use the word “fault” almost without

qualification, proviso, or apology. The Greek could not, and the Roman

until very late days could only to a most limited extent, exercise the

proper sweep of observation and comparison; the man of the earlier

Middle Ages was, from different causes, prevented from doing so to any

effect. But the contemporaries of Lilius Giraldus who knew (or knew of)

Chaucer and Wyatt—still more, in the next generation, those of Patrizzi

who knew Ronsard and the Pléiade—could plead no such exemption or

excuse. They had recovered the exacter knowledge of the remoter past

which the Middle Ages lacked, the critical spirit which during the

Middle Ages was asleep: and they had accumulated and were accumulating

treasures, of completed mediæval work and of modern work constantly

accruing, enough to give them every comparison, without exception, that

they could have wanted. Their guilt was deepening daily as their

opportunities increased.

-----

Footnote 746:

Cf. vol. i. p. 485.

-----

For they neglected these opportunities, they “sinned” these mercies,

almost without exception. If England in any way deserved the good

fortune that fell to her at the close of the eighteenth century and the

beginning of the nineteenth, it was because she had never wholly denied

either Chaucer or Spenser, either Shakespeare or Milton. But the just

men who thus saved her were wofully few, and they were almost all of

them followers of Naaman, who extorted a permission to bow in the house

of Rimmon, rather than of the glorious Three Children, who would do

obeisance to no graven image that any king set up. If Germany had the

honour of leading the way—or very nearly leading the way—in the Critical

Reformation, it was because, from the very beginning of her really

modern literature, she had put faith in her _Heldenbuch_ and her

_Bergreihen_. But even this faith was rather hesitating for a long time,

and it had no foothold in courtly, and curial, and academic places. The

men who were the real pioneers in the revival or commencement of that

universal study of literature which alone can lead to a universal

criticism, were as a rule mere scholars and antiquaries, men like Oldys

and Capell, La Monnoye and Sainte-Palaye, Sanchez and Sedano. Gray, the

greatest man of letters by far who at least fumbled with the key of the

enchanted garden, did but fumble with that key: and his successors Percy

and Warton, who opened what they could, were not great men of letters at

all. Abroad, and especially in France, their analogues, such as

Marmontel, never got so far even as they did. In Spain it became

fashionable to deny Lope if not Cervantes: in Italy Dante-worship was

too often, if not in most cases, lip-worship only.

The spectacle of these centuries is almost infinitely interesting and

surprising. I cannot, after having, with not a little pains, attained to

some Pisgah-sight of it, exhaust my own wonder, especially in regard to

the Eighteenth, or disentangle myself from that fatalism which I have

already—with the result of some misunderstanding in the house of no

un-friends—announced at the end of the First volume. We can understand

the Sixteenth century, with its vernaculars hardly yet fully formed,

with their greatest literature coming and to come, with an almost

excusable distaste for the immediate past, and with the full

eagerness—the honeymoon intoxication—of their intercourse with the

classics upon them—we can understand this being excessive in admitting,

in continuing, in caricaturing, the critical principles of the classics

themselves. We can also, if not quite so fully, understand how the

dwindling enthusiasms of the Seventeenth, with its still greater sense

of “the petty done, the undone vast” in the matter of mere erudition,

and its thick-coming concerns of party politics, material progress,

physical science, rivalry of nations, and the like—we can understand its

sinking, in mid-journey or thereabouts, to an “age of prose and sense,”

where the prose was as certain as the sense was sometimes problematical.

But the Eighteenth was beginning to be disengaged, to specialise, to

take stock, to disuse the Chronicle and begin the History. How, we must

ask ourselves, could men like Muratori and Gravina, like Addison and

Johnson, like Fontenelle and Du Bos, rest even partly satisfied (for

wholly, as we have seen, some of them at least were not) with literary

sealed patterns which admittedly would not fit the greatest admitted

literature of all their respective countries except France, and which

presented, to the not insufficient self-sufficiency of Frenchmen, the

proposition that, for hundreds of years, French men of letters had been

barbarians, if not idiots?

There is no explanation but Grandgousier’s, eked a little by the

remembrance that—as we shall, it is to be hoped, see in the next

volume—there _was_ a searching of hearts, a moving of the waters, not

very late, in fact very early, in the Eighteenth century itself. But, as

we have seen already, the creed of the majority, the orthodoxy of the

time, admitted no hint of this. It made a few concessions or

extensions—till it found them obviously unsafe—in the direction of

amiable but illogical compromise in particulars. It yielded up no jot of

the general creed. It was still matter of breviary _circa_ 1780, as it

had begun to be _circa_ 1580, that the Fable was the Poem (let us say

that if Homer had written an argument of the _Iliad_, and had left off

there, he would have done all that was actually necessary); that you

must follow Nature by following the ancients; that you must not use epic

verse in non-epic poetry, and so forth. In all countries, or almost

all,—the extreme literary poverty and disarray of Germany here serving

her in good stead,—these general assumptions, and the many others which

have been noticed in the foregoing pages, had narrowed down to yet

others of the particular kind—that the pause in an English verse must be

absolutely within a syllable or two of the middle; that a French

Alexandrine must not have the impudence to overflow into its neighbour;

and the like. And the whole sums itself up all the more

strikingly—because of the doubtful and argumentative tone of the

passage—in that memorable decision of Johnson’s which has been discussed

above, the decision justifying Rymer, justifying La Harpe, that we must

not “judge by the event,”—that the presence of the fig is no proof of

the nature of the fig-tree.

No very elaborate indications of the faults inseparable from this style

of criticism can be necessary. That if carried out rigorously (as in

some instances at least it was) it would simply have sterilised and

petrified the literary production of the world, is of course obvious.

That journey _au fond de l’inconnu pour trouver du nouveau_, which, with

whatever success or failure it may meet, however dangerous it may be in

some high functions and departments of Life and Thought, is the motive

principle of Art, was barred by it at once. It was no question of

“progress” in the very likely chimerical sense of improvement; there was

to be not even any _difference_. “To-morrow” was not, according to the

proverb, to be “a new day”: if the men of this school did not go as far

as Musette and pronounce that _Demain, c’est une fatuité du calendrier_,

they held that it was to be as yesterday, and much more also. It is

equally obvious that this doctrine positively invited indulgence in some

of the worst faults of criticism. The critic who nowadays compasses all

the reference shelves of the British Museum in order to find one

discrepancy with his author, and then triumphs over him, is mostly

confined to dates and names, or to more or less transparent erections of

personal opinion (or personal ignorance) into standards, which the

fairly intelligent reader takes for what they are worth. A hundred and

fifty years ago the child of Momus had much better cards in his hand.

The “exact scales of Bossu” were not only infinitely complicated and

elaborate, but people in general, however intelligent, were by no means

inclined to find any fault with them or question their justice. He had a

hundred chances, to one that he now has, of catching his author tripping

under statute, and without any actual garbling or dishonesty.

But between the dangers on the great scale and the dangers on the small,

which have been indicated in the last paragraph, there were many of

intermediate kinds. Without absolute distrust of novelty or

unfamiliarity as such on the one hand, and without a mere peddling

tendency to pick holes on the other, a critic under this dispensation

might, and almost must, find himself distracted, hampered, wellnigh

mantrapped, in his critical investigations. A dreamlike network or chain

of obsessions was upon him. To submit himself frankly to the effect of

the work and judge it as he would a prospect or a picture,[747] a

vintage or a face, was forbidden him. It was his duty, in the first

place, if the author openly classed his work in any Kind, to decide

whether it really belonged to this or to another; if the author had

omitted that ceremony, to determine the classification sedulously for

himself. Then he had to remember, or look up, the most celebrated

ancient examples of the Kind, or those modern ones which had obtained

the credit of being most like the ancients; and to decide whether the

resemblance was sufficient in general. And then he had to descend—if

descent be possible in this process of grovelling—to particulars, and

see if _they_ were “according to Cocker.” If everything were entirely

_en règle_, he was at liberty to admire and enjoy, supposing that, after

the preliminaries, he had any disposition towards admiration and

enjoyment left in him.

-----

Footnote 747:

In judging pictures he would, indeed, have been almost equally liable

to be “connoisseured out of his senses,” but the interference was less

authoritative. Towards the end of the century the prophets of the

Picturesque tried to invade prospects also with their preceptism: but

Nature laughed at them too obviously.

-----

This is not a caricature; it is absolutely exact according to the

“regulation” theory: and as the examples quoted before will have shown,

and as hundreds of others might be produced to show, it is by no means

untrue to practice. A critic, great, or generous, or happily both, might

transcend his brief, be better than his creed, as in that noble eulogy

of Gray’s _Elegy_ which makes up for much in Johnson’s _Life_ of the

poet. But these were works of supererogation; and it is not quite

certain that the exercise of them was entirely orthodox. The

“stop-watch” _was_ orthodox: it was the very centre and pulse of the

machine of neo-classic criticism.

I do not think that it is part of my duty as a Historian to support this

view by any further argument. I have given the strongest possible, in a

minute, and I believe faithful, exposition of the _actual_ survey, the

_actual_ opinions, the _actual_ processes and judgments of neo-classic

critics. If it is necessary to say any more, let it be this only. The

weakness of their position is sufficiently shown by the fact that it

could not bear the light of a historical knowledge of literature. There

was none such, so long as it lasted: and when that light shone, it fell.

The coincidences may not be causative; but it is for others to show that

they are not.

If, however, any one should conclude from these strictures that, in the

view of the present writer, the critical work of these three centuries

was only evil continually, he would make a very great mistake. Moreover,

putting all personal views out of the question, it is certain that this

could not be the case. In almost all arts and even sciences, but in Art

even more than in Science, the task set before the human faculties is a

gigantic “Rule of False,” as the older arithmetic books called it, in

which, by following out certain hypotheses, and ascertaining how and to

what extent you are led wrong by them, you at last discover the right

way. The most grotesque error is thus a benefit to Humanity, which,

indeed, sometimes shows itself conscious enough of the beneficial

character to perform the experiment over and over again. And further, in

all arts and in all sciences, but especially in the higher division of

Art, the reward of these excursions is not confined to the somewhat

negative advantage of discovering that man need go that way no more.

Corollaries and episodes—wayside windfalls of the Muses—await, not so

thinly spread, the adventurous and single-hearted practitioner of

Allegory as of Alchemy, on the acrostic as on the astrolabe. And

considering the secondary or parasitic character which so specially

belongs to Criticism, it is inevitable, not merely that these “bonuses,”

these “extras,” should be more abundant here than anywhere else, but

that the regular profits of the ordinary work should be considerable.

Unless the critic is utterly incompetent and bad—unless he is a very

Rymer, I do not say a Dennis, much less a Boileau—his mere contact with

a new work of art must result in something useful, in a critical datum

and fact for the future. It is very unlikely—if he is a person of even

rather more than average brains it is practically impossible—that the

exact equation or conjunction of his temperament, and his equipment, and

the character of the work, will ever recur. It is, _ex hypothesi_, quite

certain that it can never have occurred before. That he judges under a

certain system, even a wrong one, will not detract from the value of the

result, save in quantity. There will still be the actual fact—acquired

to the stock of critical data for the future—that a critical power, say

A, applied under the restrictions of system _m_ or _n_, to work B, has

resulted in the judgment _x_. And this result, in its own line and

sphere, is as much a “thing,” and a thing of interest, to the critical

student of literature, as a new beetle to the man of science, or a new

judgment of the House of Lords to the man of law. Nay, to such a student

it has a higher interest still: it is in rank and line (_mutatis

mutandis_ again) with the work criticised, with a picture, with a

sonata, as a thing of art itself.

And critics in these centuries, from these points of view and others,

estated criticism more richly than it could have hoped to be endowed

when the Humanists began once more to attack and defend Poetry, or when

Daniello a little later set himself down to write the first treatise of

criticism proper in a vernacular language. They attempted, and to the

best of their power arranged, the more general questions of the Art,

always with zeal, if not always with discretion; they did valuable, if

also somewhat and sometimes mistaken, work in its intermediate regions;

and slowly, grudgingly, but surely, they set themselves to the

apparently humbler but really fruitful work of actual critical

examination of literature, at first as it had been provided and already

criticised long ago, at last as it was being provided by the flying day.

Their own theories, right or wrong, they worked out with altogether

admirable patience and thoroughness, applying them, too, with a

faithfulness which must excite admiration, if it cannot command

agreement. And, as we have taken all fair pains to show, they not

unfrequently strayed and stumbled upon outside truths, leant over the

border of their somewhat narrow world and pried into others, after a

fashion which, when the due time came, was sure to start more

adventurous discoverers on wider paths of exploration.

It would be superfluous to extend this already long volume with any list

of selected specimens of individual achievement and excellence. I hope,

indeed, that this book may attract or help attention to some

critics—Capriano, Cinthio, Patrizzi, Ogier are a very few examples—who

are at present very little known: and to others, unnecessary to specify,

whose claims have, as it seems to me, been underrated or misunderstood.

But I have included, I think, no one of all the hundreds appearing in

this volume who is not profitable in some way, for example, or for

correction, or for reproof—who has not done something, if it be only in

the way of warning, to help the student of all time.

We may also advantageously compare this balance-sheet with the

balance-sheets of Ancient Criticism as given before, and of Modern in an

anticipated draft. As compared with the former, Neo-Classicism has the

disadvantage that, with at least equal if not greater narrowness, it is

almost entirely destitute of the same excuse for being narrow. The

Greeks of the great age wrote with nothing but Greek literature before

them; those of the decadence and the Romans with nothing but Greek

literature and Roman, which was for the most part a pale copy of Greek.

The men of the eighteenth century, had they chosen, could have compared,

with the practice and the theory of these two literatures, not merely

the vast, the interesting, and, as “correcting” classicism, the

inestimable literature of the Middle Ages, but at least four substantive

and important literatures of modern times, those of France, Italy,

England, and Spain. They not only did not do this as a matter of fact,

but they invariably in practice, and not seldom as a matter of express

theory, flouted and scouted the bare idea of doing it. They persisted in

applying a travesty of the system of Horace, itself travestied from

Aristotle, to these totally different products. Sometimes this resulted

in the bland absurdity of the _Battle of the Books_ attitude, sometimes

in the hardly less ludicrous compromise which, by stretching the

faults-and-beauties doctrine to its farthest possible extent, allowed

critics to make room, as it were by sufferance, for Shakespeare and

Milton, for Dante and Cervantes. They could laugh heartily at a dinner

in the style of the ancients, and their common-sense would at once have

pronounced any one fit for Bedlam who attempted to journey from London

to York bareheaded, clothed in a toga, and with sandals on foot; but in

theory, and even partly in practice, they imposed the classical uniform

on literature.

Still, they show, at least in some respects, better beside their modern

successors than it is the fashion to think. We have opened the road

which they barred, and permitted the exploration of the countries which

they forbade; but it is rather a question whether we have profited as we

should by this gain. It is still the very rarest thing to find a critic

who, by equipment or even by inclination, is himself disposed to take a

really catholic view of literature; and those who do endeavour to take

such a view are constantly regarded with distrust by the general, and

with a rather comic rancour by specialists. It follows that the modern

critic is, taking each on his own scheme, very much less well prepared

as a rule than the critic, not merely of the eighteenth century, as has

been said above, but of our period generally, and very nearly as liable

as that critic was to take hasty sweeping views in condemnation of whole

provinces of his subject.

Excesses, moreover, of this kind, which critics from the Renaissance

onwards committed, are a natural result of reaction in all histories.

And in the History of Literature a hundred years of something

approaching to Anarchy are perhaps not too much to balance three

hundred of mistakenly experimental Order. We shall see the causes and

the faults, as well as the excuses and the gains, of the Anarchy

later. For the present it is fitting to conclude, with an

acknowledgment anew of the merits of the Order also, in respect to the

faults of which we have been so frank. They are the merits of a

remarkable industry, of a commendable freedom from mere dilettantism,

of the discovery of not a few sound critical principles, and the

registration of not a few sound critical judgments, of an

experimentation and accomplishment which, even if it went wrong,

serves as an invaluable warning to other ages not to pursue the paths

which have so misled. And, yet once more, let us recognise that

adjustment of criticism to creation—mysterious or simply natural as it

may seem to different temperaments and different systems of

thought—which we have observed before, in the cautious check of

Renaissance criticism on the heady exuberance of the great Renaissance

creation, in the support given by Seventeenth-century classicism to

such mediate powers and dispositions as those of Corneille and even

Racine, of Dryden and even Pope; in the salutary deterrence of

Eighteenth-century orthodoxy, which saved us from more Beatties and

more Anne Radcliffes when the time was not ready for Keatses or for

Scotts. For so also in literature—and even in that, as some would have

it, not divinest part of literature, Criticism—do all the works of the

Lord, the lesser as well as the greater, praise Him and magnify Him

for ever.

INDEX.

(_Dates in the following entries are only given in the case of critical

writers actually belonging to the period dealt with in the volume. To

economise space, also, the kind of writing practised is only indicated

where confusion is possible._)

_Abrégé de l’Art Poétique_, 121.

Academic _Éloges_, 533, 534.

Academy, the French, 256 _sq._

_Account of the English Dramatic Poets_, 400, 401.

_Account of the greatest English Poets_, 438, 439.

_Adagia_ of Erasmus, the, 11.

Addison, Joseph (1672-1719), 271, 325, 415 _note_, 432 _sq._, 437-448,

463, 541, 561 _sq._

“Admiration,” 52, 270.

_Adone_, 259.

_Advancement and Reformation of Modern Poetry_, 433 _sq._

—— _of Learning_, 191 _sq._

_Advice to a Young Poet_, 452.

Æneas Sylvius Piccolomini—Pope Pius II. (1405-64), 18.

Æschylus, 61, 77.

_Æthiopica_, 77, 131.

_Agamemnon_, the, 262 _note_, 313.

Agrippa, Cornelius (1486-1535), 17 _note_, 28, 29, 352 _note_.

_Agudeza y arte de ingenio_, 349, 350.

Aguilar, Francesco López de, 346.

_A King and No King_, Rymer on, 394.

_Alaric_, 257, 265.

Alexander, Sir William, Earl of Stirling (1567?-1640), 196, 197.

_All for Love_, Preface to, 384.

_Almanack des Grands Hommes de nos jours_, 534.

_Ambra_, 24 _sq._

_Amour Tyrannique_, 266.

Amthor, 556.

Amyot, 139.

_Ana_, the, 274-277.

Anacreon, 522.

_Anacrisis_, 196, 197.

Anchères, Daniel d', see Schélandre, Jean de.

_Ancient Mariner, The_, 497 _note_.

“Ancients and Moderns,” 270, 320-322, 324, 327, 401, 412, 457, 503

_sq._

André, Père, 513 _note_.

_Andromeda_, 161.

_Anecdotes_, Spence’s, 332, 454.

_An Evening’s Love_, Preface to, 383.

_Annus Mirabilis_, Preface to, 375.

_Anticlaudianus_, 67, 96.

_Antigone_, the, 256, 432.

_Antiquity of the English Tongue, The_, 452.

_Apollo, The British_, 406.

Apollonius Rhodius, 393, 531.

_Apology of Heroic Poetry_, 384.

—— _for Poetry_, 171 _sq._

—— _for Smectymnuus_, 366.

_Apophthegmata_ of Erasmus, the, 11.

Apuleius, 14, 254 _note_, 532.

Aquinas, 20.

_Araucana_, the, 348.

Arber, Professor, Bk. IV., ch. vi., _notes passim_.

Arbuthnot, 450 _sq._

_Arcadian Rhetoric_, 186 _note_.

_Architrenius_, 67, 96.

Aretino, L., see Bruni.

—— C., 66.

Argensolas, the (Lupercio, 1565-1613; Bartolomé, 1566-1631), 346

_note_.

Arias Montano, Benito (1577-98), 336.

Ariosto, 53 _sq._, 64, 85, 91, 293 _sq._, 303, 555.

Aristophanes, 54, 254 _note_, 151, 308.

Aristotle, 6, 37, 38, 40, 41, 52 _sq._, 60 _sq._, 70, 80 _sq._, 97

_sq._, 103, 106, 213, 219, 413, 454 and _passim_.

Arnold, Matthew, 144-146, 219, 272, 277, 437, 462 _note_, 489 _sq._,

493 _sq._, 506, 512.

Aromatari, Giuseppe (1588-1660), 328, 329, 411.

_Arte de Trobar_, 333.

_Arte Nuevo de Hacer Comedias_, 50 _note_, 332, 343-346.

_Arte Poetica_, Minturno’s, 51 _sq._

—— Muzio’s, 46.

Arthurian Romances, Ronsard on, 124, 125.

—— Chapelain on, 260.

—— Montaigne on, 139.

Artieda, M. A. Rey de (1560-1625), 346 _note_.

Artiga, Francesco José (_fl. c._ 1690), 547, 548.

_Art of English Poesy_, Puttenham’s, 176 _sq._

_Art of Poetry_, Bysshe’s, 426 _sq._

—— Gildon’s, 429 _sq._

_Art of Rhetoric_, Wilson’s, 148-151.

_Art Poétique_, Boileau’s, 281 _sq._

—— La Mesnardière’s, 265.

—— Laudun’s, 127, 128.

—— Pelletier’s, 117 _sq._

—— Vauquelin’s, 128 _sq._

_Artus_, 124, 125.

Ascham, Roger (1515-68), 9, 46, 113, 148-162, 193, 224 _sq._

Asselineau, M., 255.

_Athalie_, 298.

_Athenæum_, the, 40 _note_.

_Athenian Mercury, The_, 406.

_Athenian Oracle, The_, 406.

_Athenian Sport_, 406.

Atterbury, Francis, Bishop of Rochester (1672-1732), 449.

Aubignac, F. Hédelin, Abbé d’(1604-76), 241, 308-310, 357, 369 _note_.

Aubigné, Agrippa d', 505.

_Aurengzebe_, Prologue to, 384.

_Autre Art Poétique_, 111 _note_.

Avellaneda, 347 _note_.

Averroes, 20.

Axon, Mr W. E. A., 29.

Bacon, Sir Francis, Lord Verulam (1561-1626), 191-196, 206, 232, 318

_note_.

Bacon-Shakespeare theory, 207 _note_, 318 _note_, 486.

Baillet, Adrien (1649-1706), 102 _note_, 107 _note_, 241, 316, 317-319.

Balzac, J. Guez de (1594-1655), 241, 252-254, 257.

—— Honoré de, 557.

Barbauld, Mrs, 497 _note_.

_Barbon, Le_, 254.

Barreda, Francesco de la, 346 _note_.

Bartas, Du, 199, 505.

_Basia_, 68.

Bath-Easton Vase, the, 240.

Batteux, Charles, Abbé (1713-80), 522-525, 536 _note_.

_Battle of the Books, The_, 450.

Baudelaire, 87.

Bausset, Louis Francois, Cardinal de, (1748-1824), 304 _note_.

Bayle, Pierre (1647-1706), 316, 317, 363, 364.

Béat de Muralt, 553.

Beaumont and Fletcher, 378 _sq._, 393 _sq._

_Beaux Arts réduits a un même Principe, Les_, 523.

Beccadelli, 63, 66.

Beddoes, 87.

_Bee, The_, 498.

Behn, Afra, 426.

Bellay, see Du Bellay.

Bembo, Pietro (1470-1547), 49, 455.

Ben, see Jonson.

Beni, Paolo (1552-1625), 107, 324, 325.

Benserade, Isaac de (1612-91), 254.

Bentley, Richard (1662-1742), 24 _note_, 392, 400, 401, 450, 451.

Béranger, 87, 539.

Bergerac, Cyrano de (1619-55), 285 _note_, 297.

_Bergreihen_, 569.

Berni, Francesco (1490-1536), 29.

Bertaut, 281.

_Biographia Literaria_, 52.

Blair, Hugh (1718-1800), 419, 462-465.

Blake, 391 _note_, 426.

Blanchemain, M. Prosper, 120.

Blankenburg, 329, 330 _notes_.

Blount, Sir Thomas Pope (1649-97), 404, 406.

Boccaccio, 7, 8, 22, 43, 334.

Boccalini, Trajano (1556-1613), 329, 330.

Bodmer, J. J., 551.

Boileau, Nicolas B. Despréaux (1636-1711), 29, 34, 70, 241, 247, 278

_note_, 280-300, 321, 389, 390, 411, 455 _sq._, 517, 526 _sq._, 567.

Bolingbroke, 332.

Bolton, Edmund (1573?-1633), 187.

Boscan, Juan (1500-43), 337.

Boswell, 474.

Bouhours, Dominique, Abbé (1628-1702), 308, 315, 316, 330, 417.

Bourgoin, M., 240 _note_, 256, 258, 268, 287 _note_, 301 _note_, 304

_note_, 319 _note_.

Boyl, Carlos, 346 _note_.

_Bradamante_, 132.

Breitinger, J. J., 551.

—— M. H., 44 _note_.

Brocense, El, see Sanchez, F.

Brossette, Claude (1671-1743), 247 _note_, 290 _note_.

Brown, John (1715-66), 476, 477.

Browne, Sir T., 272, 326.

Browning, Mr, 404 _note_.

Brumoy, Père Pierre (1688-1742), 509.

Brunetière, M. Ferdinand, 113 _sq._, 144, 280.

Bruni, Leonardo (often called L. _Aretino_ (1369-1444), 20.

Bruno, Giordano (1549-1600), 95 and _note_, 97 and _note_, 101.

Brunot, M., 243 _note_, 251 _note_.

_Bruttezza_, Tassoni on, 327, 417, 418.

_Buch von der Deutschen Poeterei_, 360-363.

Buckhurst, see Dorset.

Buehler, J., 355.

Buffon, Jean Louis Leclerc, Comte de (1707-1788), 202, 519-521.

Burns, 87, 539.

Burton, R., 326.

Butcher, Prof., 61.

Bysshe, Edward (_fl. c._ 1700), 107, 426-429.

Cæsar, 152.

Calcagnini, Celio, 62.

Calderon, de la Barca, &c., Pedro (1600-81), 349.

Callières, François de (1645-1717), 450.

Camoens, 497 _note_, 516, 553 _note_.

Campbell, George (1709-96), 470-473.

Campion, Thomas (?-1619), 187-189, 199, 366.

Camusat, Denis François (1695-1732), 551 _note_.

_Canons of Criticism_, the, 497 _note_.

Capell, 569.

Caporali, Cesare (1531-1601), 344 _note_, 347 _note_.

Capriano, G. P. (_fl. c._ 1550), 47, 48, 219.

_Caprice au Seig. S. Nicolas_, 129 _sq._

“Car of Cambridge”—_i.e._, Carr, Nicholas (1524-68), Greek Professor?

193.

_Caractères, Les_, 301 _sq._

Carlyle, Mr, 526.

Caro, Annibale (1507-66), 49, 91.

Carvallo, Louis Alfonso de (_fl. c._ 1600), 341.

Cascales, Francisco (?-1640), 338.

Castelvetro, Lodovico (1505-71), 17, 22 _note_, 31 _note_, 57, 80-89,

90, 91, 101, 215, 219, 233, 244 _note_, 265, 273 _note_, 326, 331,

341.

Castiglione, 93.

_Castle of Indolence_, the, 495.

_Catiline_, Rymer on, 396.

Catullus, 45, 81, 531.

Caxton, William (1442?-91?), 145.

Celtes, Conrad, 28.

Cervantes, Miguel de (1547-1616), 347-349.

Chamfort, Sebastien Roch Nicolas (1741-94), 534 _note_.

_Champfleury_, 110 _note_, 135.

Chapelain, Jean (1595-1674), 249 _note_, 252, 256-261, 297, 387 _note_,

393, 417.

Chapman, 199, 384, 387.

_Character of Saint-Evremond_, 271, 385 _note_.

Chaucer, 6, 63 and _note_, 146 _sq._, 150, 158 _sq._, 179 _sq._, 388,

390, 393, 438, 561.

Cheke, Sir John (1514-57), 148, 151-153.

Chénier, M. J., 525 _note_.

Chester, Thomas, 6.

Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope (1694-1773), 476 _note_, 514

_note_.

_Chevræana_, 274 _note_.

_Chevy Chase_, 173, 443.

_Choice_, the, 488.

Christopher North, 496.

_Christus Patiens_, 357 _note_.

Churchill, 517.

Cicero, 11, 12, 40, 48 and _note_, 53 _note_, 59, 150, 471.

_Ciceronianus_, 10-12, 193, 276.

_Cid_, the, and the censure on it, 257 _sq._

_Cigarrales de Toledo_, 332, 342, 343.

_Cinna_, 379.

Cinthio Giraldi, Giambattista (1504-73), 58-62, 81, 84, 90-92, 101,

214, 219.

_Cisne de Apolo_, 341.

_Citizen of the World_, the, 498.

“Classical Metres,” 157 _sq._

Claudian, 384, 405.

Claveret, 258 _note_.

Cleveland, 235, 377, 387, 421.

Cœlius Rhodiginus, 405.

Coleridge, 52, 145, 202, 532.

Colet, John (1467-1513), 15, 63.

Colletet family, 286 and _note_.

Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726), 392, 402-404, 433 _sq._, 451.

Collins (the poet), 490 _sq._

_Colloquies_ of Erasmus, the, 11, 13, 14.

“Columbarius, Julius,” 346.

_Comical Gallant_, the, 434.

_Comparaisons_, Rapin’s, 310 _sq._

_Comus_, 490.

_Conceptismo_, 350.

_Concio, sive Merdardus_, 13.

Condorcet, M. J. A. N. Caritat, Marquis de (1743-94), 525 _note_.

_Conflictus Thaliæ et Barbariei_, 13.

Congreve, 403.

Conrart, Valentin (1603-75), 240, 278.

Conti, Armand de Bourbon, Prince de (1629-66), 402 _note_.

_Conversations with Drummond_, 198 sq.

_Convivium Poeticum_, 13.

Cook, Prof. A. S., 30.

_Cooper’s Hill_, 375, 500.

Corneille, Pierre (1606-84), 54, 258, 261-264, 297, 304, 378 _sq._,

419, 504 _sq._, 522.

—— Voltaire’s Commentary on, 516.

—— Thomas (1625-1706), 316 _note_.

Correa, L. (_fl. c._ 1590), 107.

Costar, Pierre (1603-60), 278.

Cotin, Charles, Abbé (1604-82), 282, 287 _note_, 297.

_Cours de Littérature_, 530 _sq._

Courthope, Mr, 444 _note_, 453 _note_.

_Courtier_, the, 93.

Cowley, Abraham (1618-67), 366, 367, 393, 404, 438, 439, 450, 481, 488

_sq._

Cowper, 87, 476 _note_.

Coxe, Leonard, 148 _note_.

Craik, Sir Henry, 398 _note_.

Crashaw, Pope on, 453 _note_.

Crébillon, Fils, 536 _note_.

Creed, attempted summary of the Neo-Classic, 216, 217.

Crescimbeni, Giovanni Maria (1663-1728), 218 _note_, 324, 542. 324,

542.

Crinitus, Petrus (Pietro Riccio, 1465-1505), 27.

_Critical Review_, the, 497.

Croy, Henri de, 110.

Crusca, Ac. della, 92 _sq._

_Culteranismo_, 346 _sq._

_Cultismo_, 346 _sq._

_Cursor Mundi_, 230.

_Cynthia’s Revels_, 198 _note_.

Dacier, André (1651-1722), 81, 84.

—— Madame (Anne Lefèvre) (1654-1720), 508.

D’Alembert, Jean le Rond, _called_ (1717-83), 518.

Daniel, Samuel (1562-1619), 189-191, 199, 226, 366.

Danielle, Bernardo (_fl. c._ 1530), 42-44, 213, 219.

Dante, 6, 8, 34, 40 _note_, 82, 160, 313 _note_, 334, 369, 372, 373,

405, 532 _sq._, 534 _sq._, 540.

—— Rivarol’s _Preface_ to, 534 _sq._

Darmesteter and Hatsfeld, MM., 112 _note_.

Davenant, Sir William (1606-68), 365, 367, 371.

_Davideis_, 367 _note_.

_De Arte Poetica_, Viperano’s, 103.

_De Augmentis_, 192 _note_.

_De Divisione et Utilitate Omnium Scientiarum_, 21 _note_.

_De Genealogia Deorum_, 7.

_De Honesta Sapientia_, 27.

_De Imitatione Poetica_, 102.

_De Ludicra Dictione_, 254 _note_.

_De Perfecta Poeseos Ratione_, 107.

_De Poemate Epico_, 265-268.

_De Poeta_ (Minturno’s), 51 _sq._

_De Poetis Latinis_, 27.

_De Poetis Nostrorum Temporum_, 63 _sq._

_De Quincey_, 47 _note_, 98, 219.

_De Re Poetica_, 353 _sq._

_De Scientiis_, 21.

_De Tragœdiæ Constitutione_, 356, 357.

_De Vanitate Scientiarum_, 28, 29.

_De Vulgari Eloquio_, 40 _note_, 112, 160, 328, 540.

_Deca Disputata, La_, 95 _sq._

_Deca Istoriale, La_, 95 _sq._

_Dedication of the Æneis_, 385.

—— _of the Spanish Friar_, 384.

_Defence of Poesy_, 170 _sq._

_Defence of Rhyme_, 189-191.

_Defence of the Epilogue_ (to _Conquest of Granada_), 383.

_Défense du Poème Héroique_, 277.

_Défense et Illustration de la Langue Française_, 111 _sq._

Defoe, 277.

_Degli Autori del Ben Parlare_, 328.

Deimier, Pierre de (1576-1620), 251 _note_.

_Dell’ Imitatione Poetica_, 47 _note_.

_Della Bellezza del Volgar Poesia_, 542.

_Della Crusca_, see Crusca.

_Della Difesa di Dante_, 105.

_Della Lingua Toscana_, 47 _note_.

_Della Perfetta Poesia Italiana_, 541, 542.

_Della Poesia_, 106, 107.

_Della Ragion Poetica_, 538 _sq._

_Della Storia e della Ragione d’Ogni Poesia_, 542-545.

_Della Vera Poetica_, 47, 48.

_Delminio, G. C._, 329.

_De l’Origine des Romans_, 274, 275.

_De l’Universalité de la Langue Française_, 534 _sq._

Denham, 439.

Dennis, John (1657-1734), 387 _note_, 431-437.

Denores, Jason (_fl. c._ 1570), 106, 107, 219.

Derby, Lord, 433.

Descartes, René (1596-1650), 221, 278.

Deschamps, Eustache (? 1340-? 1410), 109.

_Deserted Village, The_, 297.

Desmarets de Saint-Sorlin, Jean (1595-1676), 257, 277, 278, 369.

Desportes, Philippe (1546-1601), 242 _sq._, 281, 366 _note_, 450.

“Despréaux,” 450, and see Boileau.

_Dialogo contra i Poeti_, 29.

_Dialogo de la[s] Lengua[s]_, 335.

_Dialogues des Dieux_, 510.

—— _des Morts_, 503.

—— _sur l’Eloquence_, 305 _sq._

—— _sur les Héros de Roman_, 292.

_Dialogus in Defensionem Poetices_, 27, 28.

_Dictionnaire Philosophique_, 517.

Diderot, 518 _sq._

_Difesa di Dante_, 105.

_Digressions sur les Anciens et les Modernes_, 506.

_Dionysius Areopagita_, 22.

_Discorsi_, Cinthio’s, 581 _sq._

—— Summo’s, 108.

—— Tasso’s, 92 _sq._

_Discours de Réception_, Buffon’s, 519 _sq._

_Discours des Trois Unités_, 262 _sq._

_Discourse of English Poesy_, 176 _sq._

_Discourse on Medals_, 439.

—— _on Music, Painting, and Poetry_, 473 _sq._

—— _on Satire_, 385.

—— _on the Grounds of Criticism in Tragedy_, 384.

_Discoveries_, Jonson’s, 198 _sq._

_Dissertation on Ossian_, 464.

—— _on Phalaris_, 401, 402.

—— _on the Rise of Poetry and Music_, 474.

_Dissertation sur le mot “Vaste,”_ 269 _sq._

Donatus, Ælius, 6 _note_, 48 and _note_, 59, 345.

Donne, 199, 489.

Dorset, Earl of, 376 _sq._, 439.

Douglas, Gavin, 218.

Drant, Thomas (_d._ 1578?), 162 _sq._

Drayton, 199, 498.

Drummond (of Hawthornden), 198 _sq._, 356 _note_, 399.

Dryden, John (1631-1700), 56, 93, 119, 121, 144, 232, 237 and _motto_,

262, 264, 271, 300, 314 _note_, 322, 332, 344, 347, 369, 371-391,

393, 403, 411, 413, 416, 417, 425 _sq._, 432, 438, 439, 449, 454,

472 _note_, 485, 489 _sq._, 503, 560.

Du Bartas, 313, 369.

Du Bellay, Joachim (1524-60), 111-116, 221, 233, 369.

Du Bos, Jean Baptiste, Abbé (1670-1742), 511-513, 542 _note_.

Dunton, John (1659-1733), 406.

Du Pont, Gratien (_fl. c._ 1540), 110.

Dyer, Sir Edward, 165.

—— John, 421, 478.

Edgeworth, Miss, 97, 348.

Edwards, Thomas (1699-1757), 497 _note_.

_Ejemplar Poético_, 338, 341.

E. K., 224.

_Eléments de Littérature_, 526 _sq._

_Elements of Criticism_, the, 465-470.

_Éloges_, D’Alembert’s, 519.

—— Fontenelle’s, 506.

—— Other, 529, 533.

Elton, Professor, 552.

Encina, Juan del (1468-1534), 335.

_English Parnassus_, the, 426 _note_.

_Entretiens d’Ariste_, 308.

_Ephemerides of Phialo_, 169 _note_.

_Epistle to Augustus_, Pope’s, 453 _sq._

_Epistles_, Ovid’s, Dryden’s Preface to, 384.

_Epistolæ Obscurorum Virorum_, 14 _note_.

_Epitome de la Eloquencia Española_, 547, 548.

Erasmus, Desiderius (1467-1536), 9-16, 61, 65, 75, 85, 193, 276, 352

_note_.

_Ercolano, L’_, 49.

Eschenbach, Wolfram von, 230.

Espinel, Vicente (1544-1634), 337.

_Essai sur la Poésie Epique_, 516.

—— _sur le Beau_, 513 _note_.

—— _sur le Goût_, 514, 528.

—— _sur les Éloges_, 529.

—— _sur les Romans_, 527.

_Essay of Dramatic Poesy_, 332, 376-382.

—— _of Heroic Plays_, 383.

—— _on a New Species of Writing_, 497 _note_.

—— _on Criticism_, 453 _sq._

—— _on Modern Education_, 452.

_Essay on Poetry_ (Temple’s), 401.

—— _on the Genius of Shakespeare_, 434.

—— _on Translated Verse_, 404.

—— _upon Poetry and Painting_, 497 _note_.

_Essays_, Collier’s, 404.

—— _Critical_ (Scott’s), 500.

—— Montaigne’s, 138 _sq._

—— _Moral and Literary_, 499.

_Estimate of the Manners and Principles of the Times_, 476.

_Estratto dell’ Arte Poetica d’Aristotile_, 546.

Etherege, 463.

Euphuism, 225 _sq._

Euripides, 14, 54.

_Evening’s Love, An_, Preface to, 383.

_Examens_, Corneille’s, 262 _sq._

_Expostulatio Spongiæ_, 346.

_Fables_, Dryden’s, Preface to, 386.

Fabri, Pierre (_fl. c._ 1520), 110.

Fabriano, see Gilio.

Fabricius, Georgius (1515-71), 108, 181, 353-355.

_Faerie, Queene_, the, 168.

“Fatura,” 63.

Fauchet, Claude (1530-1601), 101, 135.

Feillet, M., 258.

Feltre, Vittorino da, 20.

Fénelon, Francois de Salignac de La Mothe (1651-1715), 241, 272, 301,

304-308.

Feyjóo y Montenegro, Benito Geronimo (1701-64), 549.

“Fidenziano,” 540 _note_.

Fielding, 349.

_Filosofia Antigua Poética_, 338-340.

_Fingal_, 464.

Flaubert, G., 12, 302.

Flecknoe, 377.

Flemming, 556.

Fletcher, 378 _sq._

_Floriant et Florete_, 394 _note_.

Folengo, 540.

Fontaine, Ch. (1513-88?), 116.

Fontenelle, Bernard le Bovier de (1657-1757), 292, 416, 419, 423

_motto_, 501-507.

Fracastoro, Jeronimo (1483-1553), 44-46, 67, 88, 90, 214, 217, 219.

_Franciade_, Preface to the, 120 _sq._

Fraunce, Abraham (_fl. c._ 1590), 186 _note_, 199.

_Fray Gerundio_, 550.

Froissart, 141.

Froude, Mr, 5.

Fulgentius, 8, 397.

_Fureteriana_, 274 _note_.

Furetière, Antoine (1620-88), 553, 554 _note_.

“Furor Poeticus,” 97 and _note_, 267, 268, 295, 340, 410, 420.

“Gallo-Classic,” the term, 411.

Gambara, F. (_fl. c._ 1580), 107 _note_, 278 _note_.

Garbett, Rev. J., 298 _note_, 372 _note_.

Garnett, Dr, 546 _note_.

Gascoigne, George (1525?-77), 162 _sq._, 177, 226, 429.

Gautier, Th., 282 _note_, 519 _note_.

Gayley and Scott, Professors, 195 _note_, 329 _note_.

Gellert, Christian Furchtegott (1715-69), 557.

_Gentleman’s Magazine_, the, 497.

_Gerusalemme Liberata_, 18, 87 _sq._

Gibert, Balthasar (1662-1741), 319, 320.

Gifford, 198 _note_, 534.

Gildon, Charles (1665-1724), 429, 430.

Gilio da Fabriano Antonio (_fl. c._ 1580), 104.

Girac, Paul Thomas de (?-1663), 278 _note_.

Giraldi, Cinthio, see Cinthio.

Giraldus, Lilius, see Lilius.

Goethe, 356, 372, 560.

Goldsmith, Oliver (1728-74), 429, 498.

_Gondibert_, Preface to, 365, 367-371.

Góngora y Argote, Luis de (1561-1627), 349.

Gongorism, 331, 414.

Gonzales de Salas (_fl. c._ 1630), 341, 342, 349.

_Gorboduc_, 173, 206, 374, 503.

_Gorgias_, the, 82.

Gosson, Stephen (1555-1624), 169-171.

Gottsched, Johann Christopher (1700-66), 552-557.

Gournay, Mlle. de, 251, 253, 254.

Gower, 146 _sq._, 179 _sq._

Gracián, Balthasar (1584-1658?), 349, 350.

Granada, Luis de (1504-81), 336.

Gravina, Gianvincenzo (1664-1718), 272, 324, 513, 538-541.

Gray, 461, 478, 479, 487, 491 _sq._, 500, 569.

Grazzini, Ant. Francesco ["Il Lasca"] (1403-83), 48, 59.

Grévin, Jacques (1538?-70), 127.

Grimmelshausen, 552.

_Grongar Hill_, 488, 500.

Grosart, Dr, 196 _note_.

Grotius, 359.

_Grundlicher Bericht des Deutschen Meistergesangs_, 360 _note_.

Guarini, Battista (1537-1612), poet, 107, 199.

Guarino (?-1460), humanist, 18.

Guest, Dr, 178, 188.

Guicciardini, 331.

Habington, 485.

Hamelius, Herr, 425 _note_, 432 _note_, 448 _note_.

Hamilton, Anthony, 502.

Hannay, Mr David, 332 _note_, 341, 350.

Hardy, Alexandre (1560-1631), 255 _note_.

Harington, Sir John (1561-1612), 183 _note_, 186, 199.

Harris, James (1709-80), 473-476.

Harvey, Gabriel (1545-1630), 148, 165 _sq._

Hawes, Stephen (?-1523?), 146, 147.

Hazlitt, 145, 219, 372 _note_, 496.

_Heads of an Answer to Rymer_, 373 _note_, 397 _note_.

Hédelin, see Aubignac.

Hegel, 274, 527 _note_.

Heinsius, Daniel (1580-1655), 356, 357.

_Heldenbuch_, 569.

Heliodorus, 77, 131.

_Henriade_, the, 514 _note_, 522, 526.

_Henry IV._, Dennis on, 434.

Herbert, G., 87.

Héricault, M. Ch. d’, 112 _note_.

_Hermaphroditus_, 66 _note_.

_Hermes_, 473.

_Hermogenes_, 319, 329.

_Hero and Leander_, 74.

“Heroic Play,” the, 367 _sq._

“Heroic Poem,” the, 367 _sq._

Hessus, Eobanus, 14, 28.

Heywood, Thomas, 398 _note_.

_Histoire du Théâtre Français_, Fontenelle’s, 505.

—— the Frères Parfait’s, 527.

_Historia de las Ideas Estéticas en España_, 331-351 _passim_.

_History of the Rise and Progress of Poetry_, 476.

—— _of the Royal Society_, 398.

Hobbes, Thomas (1588-1679), 40, 367-371.

Hoffmanswaldau, 552.

Home, Henry, see Kames.

Homer, 25, 31-35, 47, 52, 74, 86, 99, 122-126, 130-132, 141, 310 _sq._

Horace, 6, 9, 129 _sq._ and _passim._

Howard, Edward, 367 _note_.

—— Henry, see Surrey, Earl of.

—— J., 367 _note_.

—— Sir Robert (_d._ 1698: his birth-date and those of his brothers E.

and J. are very uncertain), 376 _sq._

Howell’s _Letters_, 371 _note_.

_Hudibras_, 513 _note_.

Huerta, Vicente Garcia de la (1730?-87), 550 _note_.

Huet, Pierre Daniel (1630-1721), bishop of Avranches, 274, 275.

_Huetiana_, 275.

Hugo, Victor, 87.

Hume, Alexander, 209 _note_.

—— David, 462.

Hunt, Leigh, 372 _note_.

Hurd, 469.

Hutten, Ulrich von (1488-1523), 352 _note_.

Iago, Rymer on, 395, 396.

_Ibrahim_, 265.

_Idler_, the, 484.

_I Fiori della Poesia_, 107.

_Il Castellano_, 40.

“Il Lasca,” see Grazzini.

_Il Sogno_, 106, 107.

“Imagination,” Addison on, 443-448.

“Imlac,” 484, 485.

_Impartial Critic, The_, 432.

_Indian Emperor, The_, Preface to, 382.

_Inés de Castro_, 507.

_Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe_, 498.

_Institutiones Oratoriæ_, Voss’s, 358-360.

—— _Poeticæ_, Spanmüller’s, 355.

_I Romanzi_, 63.

Isidore (of Seville), 8, 334.

_I Simillimi_, 38.

Iskra, Augustinus, 360, 361.

Isla, José Francisco, Father (1703-81), 550.

_Istoria del Volgar Poesia_, 542.

_Italia Liberata_, 38.

James the First (1566-1625), 177, 178.

Jerome, St, Erasmus on, 15, 16.

_Jeronimo_, 235.

Johannes Secundus, 27.

John of Garlandia, 14.

—— of Salisbury, 8.

Johnson, Samuel (1709-84), 145, 375, 429, 434, 437, 458, 465, 474,

477-496, 512, 552, 561, 571.

Jonson, Ben (1573-1637), 42, 71, 138, 144, 156, 185 _note_, 197-209,

227 _sq._, 233, 262, 271, 367, 368, 370 _sq._, 393 _sq._, 486

_note_.

_Journal des Savants_, 316.

_Jugements des Savants_, 276.

—— —— —— _sur les auteurs que ont traité de la Rhétorique_, 319, 320.

_Julius Cæsar_, Rymer on, 396.

—— Dennis on, 434.

Juvenal, Dryden’s Preface to, 385.

Kames, Henry Home, Lord (1696-1782), 465-470.

Käsenbrot, see Olmucensis.

Keats, 280, 412, 485.

Keble, 87, 312 _note_, 372 _note_.

Kelly, Mr J. Fitzmaurice, 332 _note_, 335 _note_, 348 _note_, 350.

Kelton, Arthur (_fl. c._ 1550), 542 _note_.

Ker, Mr W. P., 93 _note_, 332 _note_, 373 _sq._

Kingsley, Ch., 124, 161.

Knox, Vicesimus (1752-1821), 499.

La Boétie, E. de, 71.

La Bruyère, Jean de (1645-96), 241, 300-304, 355, 521.

_Labyrinthus_, 8, 24, 64, 231.

La Casa, 93, 167 _note_, 512, 540 _note_.

La Croze, J. Cornand de (not to be confused with his contemporary, M.

Veyssière de la Croze, a learned but fantastic philologist and

antiquary), 406 _note_.

La Cueva, Juan de (1550-1606), 338, 340, 341, 355.

La Fontaine, 293 _sq._, 298, 519, 521.

La Harpe, Jean François de (1739-1803), 530-533, 564, 571.

Lamb, Charles, 145, 496.

La Mesnardière, Hippolyte Jules Pelet de (1616-63), 265.

La Monnoye, Bernard de (1641-1728), 273 _note_, 316 _note_, 527 _note_.

La Mothe le Vayer, F. de (1588-1672), 251.

La Motte, A. Houdard de (1672-1731), 321, 507-509.

—— Charles (?-?), Irish divine and critic, 497 _note_.

_Lancelot_, 124, 260.

Landi, Ortensio (1501-60), 29.

Langbaine, Gerard (1656-92), 400, 401, 430.

Langlois, M. G., 109 _note_.

Langhorne, 449.

Langland, 179 _sq._

La Place, translator of Shakespeare, 527, 528.

Lasca, Il, see Grazzini.

La Taille, Jacques de (1541?-62?), 127.

—— Jean de (1540?-1608), 127.

Latimer, 150.

Laudun, Pierre de (1575-1629), 127, 128.

Le Bossu, René (1631-80), 300, 314, 315.

Le Clerc, Jean (1657-1736), 276, 277, 363, 364.

_Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres_, 462 _sq._

Lee, Mr Sidney, 400 _note_.

Lemaître, M. Jules, 259 _note_.

Lemercier, N., 530.

Le Moyne, Père, 257, 393, 505.

Lessing, 219, 356, 410.

L’Estrange, 392, 451.

_Le Tre Sorelle_, 93.

_Letter to a Young Clergyman_, 452.

_Letters on Chivalry_, 469.

_Letters_, Pope’s, 453.

_Lettre de M. de la Visclède_, 517.

_Lettres aux Auteurs de la Gazette Littéraire_, 517.

_Lettres Galantes et Philosophiques_, 510.

_Lettres Persanes_, 514.

_Lettres sur les Anglais_, 516.

Lilius Gregorius Giraldus (1478-1552), 63-68, 96 _note_, 413.

Lilly, William, 65.

_L’Infarinato_, 92.

“L’Infortuné,” 110.

Lionardi, Alessandro (_fl. c._ 1550), 47.

_Lives of the Poets_, Heywood’s, 398 _note_.

—— Johnson’s, 480 _sq._, 486 _sq._

—— Winstanley’s, 400.

Locke, John (1632-1704), 53, 446 _sq._, 468.

Lodge, Thomas (1558?-1625), 170, 171.

Logic and Poetry, 20 _note_.

Lohenstein, 552.

Longfellow, 87.

Longinus, 6, 34, 206, 220, 288 _sq._, 302, 319, 373, 430, 435.

Longolius (Christophe de Longueil), (1490-1522), 11, 67, 276.

Lope de Vega Carpio, Felix (1562-1635), 332, 343-347, 380 _note_.

_Love’s Labour’s Lost_, Collier on, 403.

Lucan, 199.

Lucian, 24 _note_, 330, 402.

Lucilius, 254 _note_.

Lucretius, 33, 40, 88, 139, 140, 202.

_Lutrin, Le_, 290.

Luzan Claramumt de Suelves y Gurrea, Ignacio de (1702-54), 347, 350,

414, 541, 546, 547.

_Lycidas_, 490, 500.

Lydgate, 146 _sq._, 179 _sq._

Macaulay, 320, 391 _sq._, 401 _sq._, 492, 498.

Machiavelli, 54.

“Machines” and “Machinery,” 369 _sq._, 435.

Mackenzie, Sir George, 320.

Macpherson (_Ossian_), 464.

Macrobius, 22 _note_.

Maffei, Francisco Scipione, Marquis (1676-1755), 546.

Maggi, 41, 42.

Mairet, Jean (1604-86), 115.

Maistre, Joseph de, 327.

Malebranche, Nicolas (1638-1715), 279 and _note_, 514.

Malfilâtre, 519.

Malherbe, François de (1555-1628), 115, 241-251, 257, 283, 303.

Malory, Sir Thomas, 6, 155.

Mambrun, Pierre (1600-61), 266-268, 410.

_Manière de Bien Penser dans les Ouvrages d’Esprit_, 315, 316.

_Manto_, 24 _sq._

Mantuan, 66.

_Marinism_ and Marino, 331, 393, 414.

Marlowe, 205, 399.

Marmontel, Jean François (1723-99), 287 _note_, 525-529.

Marot, Clément (1497-1544), 110 _note_, 137, 281, 304.

Marryat, 34.

Martianus Capella, 42.

_Martinus Scriblerus_, 452.

Masson, Professor, 195 _note_.

Matamoros, Alfonso Guida, 336.

Maucroix, François de (1619-1708), 278.

Mayáns y Siscar, Gregorio (1699-1781), 333 _note_, 549.

Mazzone da Miglionico (_fl. c._ 1590), 107, 108.

Mazzoni (_fl. c._ 1550), 105.

_Meditation on a Broomstick_, 451.

_Mémoire sur les Occupations de l’Académie Française_, 305 _sq._

Ménage, Gilles de (1613-92), 160, 273, 317, 321 _note_.

_Ménagiana_, 53 _note_, 273 _sq._, 321 _note_.

Menéndez y Pelayo, Señor, 331-352, _passim_.

_Mercure Galant_, 316.

Meres, Francis (1565-1647), 187.

_Merry Wives of Windsor_, Dennis on, 434.

Mesa, Cristóbal de (1540-1620), 338 _note_, 346 _note_.

Meslier, le Curé (1678-1733), 515 _note_.

Metastasio (Pietro A. D. B. Trapassi), (1698-1782), 545, 546.

Mickle, 449.

Millar, Mr J. H., 486 _note_.

Milton, John (1608-74), 7, 45, 54, 56, 93, 262, 365, 398, 399, 402, 411

_note_, 435 _sq._, 439, 443 _sq._, 449, 467, 480 _sq._, 516, 532,

555, 560.

“Minim, Dick,” 484.

Minturno, Ant. Sebastiano (_fl. c._ 1560), 50-57, 90, 129 and _note_,

215, 219.

_Miscellanies_, Dryden’s Preface to, 384 _sq._

Mitford, W., 164 _note_.

Molière, 261, 273, 298, 303, 307, 322 _note_, 378 _sq._, 521.

Molinet, Jean (_d._ 1507), 110.

Mondragon, Hieronimo de, 337 _note_.

Montagu, Mrs, 240.

Montagu (Lord Halifax), 439.

Montaigne, Michel de (1533-92), 138-142, 205, 232, 254, 279, 514.

Monte-Melone (Chiodino da), 329, 330.

Montesquieu, Charles de Sécondat, baron de la Brède, et de (1689-1755),

513, 514.

_Monthly Review_, the, 497.

Moratin, Nicolas Fernandez de (1737-80): to be distinguished from his

son and successor in classicism, Leandro Fernandez de M.,

(1760-1828), 550.

More, Sir T., 63.

Morel-Fatio, M., 50 _note_, 332 _note_, 343 _note_, 346 _note_.

Morley, Prof. H., 162 _note_.

_Morte d’Arthur_, the, 155.

Mulcaster, Richard (1530?-1611), 209 _note_.

Mulgrave, John Sheffield, Earl of, later Duke of Buckinghamshire

(1649-1721), 402.

“Mumpsimus,” 15.

Muratori, Ludovico Antonio (1672-1750), 80 _note_, 324, 541, 542.

Musæus, 74.

Mutius, Macarius, 326.

Muzio, G. (_fl. c._ 1550), 46.

Nasarre y Ferriz, 549.

_Naturaleza_, 342 _sq._

_Naugerius sive de Poetica_, 45, 214, 217.

Navagero, Andrea (Naugerius) (1483-1529), 45, 66, 81.

Nebrija, Antonio de (Nebrissensis) (_fl. c._ 1530), 336.

_New World Discovered in the Moon_, the, 198 _note_.

Nichols, Mr, 14 _note_, 15.

Nicolai, Christoph-Frederich (1733-1811), 551 _note_.

Nisard, D., 114.

_Notes of Instruction_, 162 _sq._

_Nueva Idea de la Tragedia Antigua_, 341, 342.

_Nutricia_, 24 _sq._

_Obscuri Viri_, the, 9.

_Observateur Littéraire_, 527.

_Odyssey_, the, 58, 267, 532.

_Oedipus_, the, 263.

_Of Studies_ (Bacon’s), 192.

Ogier, François (_fl. c._ 1630), 254-256, 259, 346, 347, 409.

Oldys, 457.

Olmucensis, Augustinus Moravus (Käsenbrot, _c._ 1500), 17 _note_, 27,

28, 218, 352 _note_.

Opera, Saint-Evremond on, 271.

Opitz, Martin (1597-1639), 17, 360-363, 556.

_Orbecche_, 58, 60.

_Origenes de la Lengua Española_, 333 _note_.

_Origines de la Poésie Française_, 101.

_Orlando Furioso_, 85, and see Ariosto.

_Ossian_, 464 _sq._, 532.

_Othello_, Rymer on, 395.

Ovid, 384.

Panigarola, Francesco (1548-94), 329.

_Paradise Lost_, 325, 443 _sq._

_Paradossi_, 29.

_Paragone della Poesia Tragica_, 554.

_Parallel of Poetry and Painting_, 385.

_Parallèle des Anciens et des Modernes_, 321 _note_.

Parfai(c)t, François (1698-1733) and Claude (1701-77), 527.

Paris, M. Gaston, 110 _note_.

_Parnassus, The English_, 426 _note_.

_Parrhasiana_, 276, 277.

Partenio, B. (_fl. c._ 1560), 102, 103.

Pascal, Blaise (1623-62), 279 _note_.

Pasquier, Etienne (1529-1615), 135-138, 224 _note_, 232.

_Pastor Fido_, the, 107, 108.

Patin, Gui (1602-72), 272, 273, 316 _note_.

Patrizzi, Francesco (1529-97) [not to be confused with the Siennese Bp.

of Gaeta, in the generation before, who wrote on politics, &c.],

anti-Peripatetic philosopher and critic (half-title of Bk. IV.), 57,

61, 63, 90, 93, 94-102, 107, 215, 219, 230, 233, 320 _note_, 329,

413.

Patru, Olivier (1604-81), 277, 291.

Pazzi, Alessandro de (_fl. c._ 1530), 41.

Peacham, Henry (1576?-1643?), 187.

Pecock, Reginald (1395-1460), 151.

Pellegrino, C., 100.

Pel(l)etier, Jacques (1517-82), Pléiade poet and critic, 117-119.

Pel(l)etier, Jacques (_fl. c._ 1660), 17th cent. poet, 291.

Pellissier, M. Georges, 110 _note_, 129 _sq._

Pellisson, Paul (1624-93), 273.

Peña, Don P. M., 339 _sq._

_Pensieri Diversi_, Tassoni’s, 326 _sq._

Pepys, 377 _note_, 522.

_Perceforest_, 160.

Percy, 479.

_Peri Bathous_, 452.

Perrault, Charles (1628-1703), 285, 293, 321, 418, 419.

—— Claude (1613-88), 285.

—— Pierre (1608-80), 285.

“Person of Quality,” the (who rewrote Spenser), 416 _note_, 561.

Petit de Julleville, M., 110 _note_.

Petrarch, 44 and _note_, 82, 199.

Petronius, 27, 201 _note_, 254 _note_, 284.

Phalaris, the Pseudo-, 24 _note_, 401, 402.

Phillips, Edward (1630-96), 398, 399.

_Philological Enquiries_, 473 _sq._

_Philosophia Rationalis_, 330.

_Philosophical Arrangements_, 473.

_Philosophy of Rhetoric_, 470-473.

Piccolomini, Æneas Sylvius, see that name.

—— Alessandro (1508-78), 103, 104.

Pico della Mirandola (1463-94), 22, 23.

Pigna, Giovanbattista (_fl. c._ 1550), 58 _sq._, 62, 63, 81, 84, 155,

214.

Pinciano, Alfonso López, called El. P. (150-?-160-?), 338-340.

Pitt, Christopher (1699-1748), 29 _sq._

Plato, 6, 9, 38, 71, 82, 154, 213, 220, 514.

_Pléiade_, the, 110 _sq._ and Bk. IV., ch. iv., _passim_.

Plotinus, 9.

Plutarch, 22, 71, 99, 154.

_Poemata Selecta Italorum_, 29 _note_, 45 _note_.

_Poetaster_, the, 198.

_Poetics_ (_Poetica, Poética, Poétique_), of Aristotle, 6 and _passim_.

—— of Daniello, 42-44.

—— of Denores, 105, 106.

—— of Luzán, 548.

—— of Scaliger, 69-80.

—— of Sibilet, 111, 112.

—— of Trissino, 38-41.

—— of Vida, 29-37.

—— of Viperano, 103.

Poetry and Logic, 20 _note_.

Poggio Bracciolino (1380-1459), 6 _note_.

Politian (Angelo Ambrogini, surnamed Poliziano) (1557-94), 15, 23-26,

66, 402, 455.

_Polyeucte_, 379.

Pomfret, John, 488, 495.

_Pompée_, 379.

Pontanus, J. (Spanmüller) (1542-1626), 353-356.

—— J. J., 66.

Poole, Joshua (_fl. c._ 1650), 426 _note_.

Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), 29 _note_, 45 _note_, 247, 413, 415, 421,

429, 432 _sq._, 438 _note_, 452-461, 490 _sq._, 561.

Possevino, Antonio (1534-1611), 325, 326.

_Prælections Academicæ_, Garbett’s, 298 _note_, 372 _note_.

—— Keble’s, 312 _note_, 372 _note_.

—— Trapp’s, 462.

_Pratique du Théâtre_, 309, 310.

_Principes de la Littérature_, 522 _sq._

Prior, 306, 415, 428, 429.

_Promos and Cassandra_, Preface to, 186 _note_.

_Proposal for Correcting the English Tongue_, 452.

_Pucelle, La_ (Chapelain’s), 257.

Puritan objection to Literature, the, 7, 10.

Puschmann, Adam (1532-1600), 360 _note_.

Puttenham, George (_fl. c._ 1580), 104, 182-186.

Quadrio, Francisco Xavier (1695-1756), 324, 542-545.

_Quatre Poétiques, Les_, 522.

Quevedo [y] Villegas, Francisco Gómez de (1580-1645), 339 _note_, 349.

_Quintil Horatien, Le_, 116 _sq._

Quintilian, 6, 130, 151 _note_, 198 _sq._, 455, 471 and _passim_.

Rabelais, François (1495-1553), 135, 141 _note_, 150, 304, 455, 516.

Racan, H. de Bueil, Marquis de (1589-1670), 242 _sq._

Racine, Jean, 54, 290 _sq._, 298, 504 _sq._, 511, 522.

Racine, Louis (1692-1763), 511.

_Ragguagli di Parnasso_, 329-331.

Ralph, James (1605?-62), 430 _note_, 554 _note_.

_Rambler, The_, 480 _sq._

Rambouillet, the Hôtel, 240.

Ramsay, Allan, 457.

—— Andrew Michael, (Chevalier) (1686-1743), 305, 544 _note_.

Rapin de Thoyras, P. (1661-1725), 247 _note_.

—— Nicolas (1535-1608), 247.

—— René (1621-87), 247 _note_, 310-314, 321 _note_.

—— Rymer’s Preface to, 310 _note_, 392 _sq._

Rappolt, 554.

_Rasselas_, 480 _sq._

_Recherches de la France_, 135 _sq._

_Réflexions Critiques sur la Poésie et sur la Peinture_, 510-513.

—— _Critiques sur quelques Poètes_, 521.

—— Rapin’s, 310 _sq._

—— _sur la Critique_, 508.

—— _sur la Poésie_, 510, 511.

—— _sur la Poétique_, 310.

—— _sur Longin_, 292 _sq._

Regnier, Mathurin (1573-1613), 242-251, 284.

Regulus, Sebastian, 554.

_Rehearsal, The_, 415 _note_.

_Relapse, The_, Collier on, 463.

_Religio Medici_, G. Patin on, 272.

_Remarks on Italy_, 439.

—— _on the Rape of the Lock_, 435.

Rémond de Saint-Mard, see Saint-Mard.

Renaissance, the term, 4 _note_.

Rengifo, Juan Diaz _or_ Diego Garcia [they were brothers: the book

appeared under the name of the first, and is now attributed to the

second], 337, 338.

_Return from Parnassus_, 97 _note_.

_Reulis and Cautelis_, K. James’s, 176 _sq._

Riccio, Bartolommeo, 81.

—— Pietro, see Crinitus.

Riccoboni, Antonio (1541-99), 50 _note_.

Rigault, M. H., 240 _note_, 388 _note_, 502.

_Rime Diverse_, 46.

Rinaldini, Carlo (_fl. c._ 1680), 330.

_Rival Ladies_, Preface to, 374.

Rivarol, Antoine, Comte (?) de (1753-1801), 534, 535.

Robortello, Francesco (1516-67), 41, 42, 49 _note_, 50, 345.

_Rodogune_, 263.

Rollin, Charles (1661-1741), 509.

_Rollo_ (B. and F.’s), Rymer on, 394.

_Roman de la Rose_, 160 _note_.

_Roman Bourgeois_, 553 _note_.

_Romanzi_, the critical dispute on, 55 _sq._

_Romeo and Juliet_,

Ronsard, Pierre de (1524-85), 63, 119-126, 137, 162 _note_, 222, 223,

233, 244 _note_, 257 _note_, 258, 264, 304, 307, 313, 362.

Roscommon, W. Dillon, Earl of (1633-85), 404, 439.

Rousseau, J. B., 522.

—— J. J., 518.

Rücktaschel, Herr, 110 _note_, 127.

Ruskin, Mr, 496.

_Rusticus_, 24 _sq._

Rymer, Thomas (1646-1713), 357, 391-397, 405, 432 _sq._, 571.

Sadolet, 455.

Saint-Amant, M. A. de (1594-1661), 257, 297.

Saint-Evremond, Ch. de M. de Saint-Denis, Seigneur de (1610-1703), 241,

268-272, 502.

_Saint-Louis_, 505.

Saint-Mard, Rémond de (sometimes incorrectly called Raymond de

Saint-Marc) (1682-1757), 510, 511.

Sainte-Beuve, 219, 257, 277 _note_, 278 _note_, 280, 320.

Sainte-Palaye, 569.

Salisbury, John of, 8.

Sallust, Cheke on, 152.

Salviati, Leonardo (1540-89), 41 _note_, 81 _note_, 91, 92, 103 _note_,

328.

Sanchez, Alfonso, 346.

—— Francisco, “El Brocense” (1523-1601), 336.

—— T. Antonio (1732-98), 550, 569.

Sannazaro, Jacopo (1458-1530), 51, 173, 174.

Santillana, Iñigo López de Mendoza, Marquis of (1398-1458), 333, 334.

Sarrasin, J. (1605-54), 260, 265 _sq._

Savonarola, Girolamo (1452-98), 20-23, 173, 213.

Scaliger, Joseph Justus (1540-1609), 276.

—— Julius Cæsar (1484-1558), 8, 12, 17, 42, 57, 69-80, 96 _note_, 215,

219, 233, 241 _note_, 267, 355, 375, 405.

_Scaligerana_, 276.

Schélandre, Jean de (1585-1635), 255.

Schelling, Prof., 144 _note_, 200 _note_ and _sq._

_Schoolmaster, The_, 152 _sq._

_School of Abuse_, the, 169-171.

Schosser, 353 _note_.

_Science et Asnerye_, 13.

Scott, John, of Amwell (1739-83), 499, 500.

—— Professor, 519 _note_.

—— Sir Walter, 88, 502.

Scudéry, Georges de (1601-67), 256, 258, 265 _sq._

_Seconde Rhétorique_, 110.

Secundus, see Johannes.

Sedley, Sir C., 376 _sq._

Seebohm, Mr, 15, 22.

Segni, 42.

_Selecta Poemata Italorum_, 29 _note_, 45 _note_, 454 _note_.

Seneca (L. Annæus?), the tragedian, 60, 61, 342, 433.

_Sentiments du Curé Meslier_, 515 _note_.

Servois, M., 303.

Sévigné, Marie de Rabutin-Chantal, Marquise de (1626-96), 241, 273,

274.

Shadwell, 271.

Shaftesbury, 22 _note_, 514.

Shakespeare, 177, 199 _sq._, 206 _sq._, 228 _note_, 262, 375, 378

_sq._, 393 _sq._, 399, 409 _note_, 434 _sq._, 454, 464, 480 _sq._,

485 _sq._, 516, 532, 560.

—— Johnson’s _Preface to_, 480 _sq._.

—— Pope’s _Preface to_, 453, 454.

Shelley, 87, 426.

Shenstone, 478.

_Shepherd’s Kalendar_, 173.

Sheringham, Robert (1602-78), 392 _note_.

_Short View of the Profaneness and Immorality of the English Stage, A_,

402-404.

_Short View of Tragedy, A_, 392 _sq._

Sibilet, Thomas (1512-89), 111, 112.

Sidney, Sir Philip (1554-86), 7, 43, 45, 171-176, 199, 226 _sq._, 262,

348, 375, 409.

_Siècle de Louis Quatorze_, 516.

_Silent Woman_, The, 380.

_Silius Italicus_, 59.

Simylus, 203 _note_.

Smart, Christopher, 562.

Smith, Adam, 462.

—— Mr Gregory, 27, 144 _note_, 426 _note_, 442 _note_, 510 _note_.

—— Mr Nichol, 281 _note_.

_Sofonisba_, 38.

_Soirées de Saint-Pétersbourg_, 327.

_Somnium Scipionis_, 22 _note_.

Spanmüller, see Pontanus, J.

Spence, Joseph (1698-1768), 332, 415, 438 _note_, 454, 455.

Spenser, Edmund (1552-99), 165-169, 201 _sq._, 264, 369, 393, 399, 416,

438-448, 482 _sq._

_Spenser Redivivus_, 416, 561.

Speroni, Speron(e), (1500-88), 55 _note_.

Spingarn, Mr Joel Elias, 3 _note_, and Bk. IV. _passim_.

Sprat, Thomas, Bishop of Rochester (1635-1713), 398, 405, 456.

Stanyhurst, 167 _note_.

Statius, 58, 59.

Steele, Sir Richard (1672-1729), 448.

Sterne, 205, 517.

Strabo, 22 and _note_, 361.

Sturm, Johann (1507-89), 153 _sq. notes_, 319, 353, 356.

Suard, Jean Baptiste Antoine (1733-1817), 529.

Suckling, 463.

Summo, Faustino (_fl. c._ 1600), 108, 218, 219.

_Sur la Lecture des Vieux Romans_, 258, 260.

_Sur les Héros de Roman_, 292.

Surrey, Earl of (1517?-47), 159 _sq._

Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745), 320, 449-452, 517.

Swinburne, Mr, 426 _note_.

_Sylvæ_ (Politian’s), 23-26.

Symonds, Mr J. A., 25 _note_.

_Syphilis_, 44 _note_, 99.

_Tale of a Tub, A_, 451.

Tallemant des Réaux Gédéon (1619-92), 242 _note_, 273.

_Tamburlaine_, 97 _note_.

Tanneguy le Fèvre, 321 _note_, 405.

Tasso, Bernardo (1493-1569), 47, 90.

—— Torquato (1544-95), 47, 56, 89-94, 100, 219, 220, 233, 264, 278

_note_, 324, 369, 393, 516.

Tassoni, Alessandro (1565-1635), 326-328, 417, 418.

_Taste of the Town_, the, 554.

_Tatler_, the, 439 _sq._, 450.

Taylor (the Water-Poet), 201 _note_.

_Temora_, 464.

Temple, Sir William (1628-99), 401, 438 _note_, 450.

Tennyson, 34, 262 _note_, 485.

Terence, 303.

Tertullian, 17, 279.

Texte, M., 528 _note_.

Thackeray, 77.

_Théâtre des Grecs_, 509.

_Theatrum Poetarum_, 398, 399.

Theobald, 198 _note_.

Théophile (de Viau), 291, 297, 303.

Thomas, Antoine Léonard (1732-85), 529.

—— Mr P. G., 18 _note_.

Thomson, 478.

Ticknor, 332 _note_, 335 _note_.

Tiraboschi, Jeronimo (1731-70), 545.

Tirso de Molina (Gabriel Tellez) (1585-1648), 332, 342, 343.

Tolomei, 46.

Tomitano, 47.

_Topica Poetica_, 104.

Tory, Geoffroy (1480-1533), 110, 135, 150.

_Toxophilus_, 153 _sq._

_Tragedies of the Last Age_, the, 392 _sq._

Traill, Mr, 504.

_Traité de la Construction Oratoire_, 522-524.

—— _des Etudes_, 509.

—— _du Poème Epique_, 308-310.

Trapp, Joseph (1679-1747), 462.

_Trimerone_, 100.

Trissino, Gian-Giorgio (1478-1550), 38-41, 64.

_Tritical Essay, A_, 451.

Turia, Ricardo de[l] = Luis Ferrer de Cardona or Pedro Juan de Rejaule?

see Morel-Fatio, _op. cit._ (_fl. c._ 1616), 346, 347.

_Tyr et Sidon_, 255.

Tyrius, Maximus, 22, 43.

Underhill, Mr, 406 _note_, 454 _note_.

Unities, the Three, Books IV. and V. _passim_. See especially Scaliger,

Castelvetro, Corneille, Ogier, Dryden, Johnson.

“Unity of Interest,” 508.

_Usefulness of the Stage_, the, 433.

“Vadius,” 273.

Valdeflores, the Marquis of, 549.

Valdés, Juan de (1500-44), 335.

_Valesiana_ (written by Valois, Charles de (1671-1747), on his father

Adrien), 275.

Vanbrugh, 403.

Varchi, Benedetto (1502-65), 49.

Varro, 70.

Vaugelas, C. F. de (1585-1650), 240 _sq._, 257.

Vaughan, Sir W. (1577-1648), 187.

Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, Jean (1535-1607), 128-134, 196, 220, 222,

223, 246, 278 _note_.

Vauvenargues, Luc de Clapiers, Marquis de (1715-47), 521, 522.

Vavasseur, François, 254 _note_.

Vegius, M., 66.

_Venice Preserved_,

_Versuch einer Critischen Dichtkunst_, 552 _sq._

Vettori, Pietro = Petrus Victorius (_fl. c._ 1560), 41 _sq._

_Viaje del Parnaso_, 347.

Vida, Marco Girolamo, Bishop of Alba (1480-1546), 26, 29-37, 66, 68,

70, 129 and _note_, 203, 213, 455 _sq._

_Vie de Corneille_, Fontenelle’s, 505.

Vigneul-Marville, 275.

Villena, Enrique de (1384-1434), 333.

Villon, François (_fl. c._ 1460), 110 _note_, 281.

Viperano (_fl. c._ 1580), 103, 128, 341.

Virgil, 24-26, 30-35, 47, 52 _sq._, 74-78, 86, 122-126, 131, 139, 140,

310 _sq._, 415, 482.

—— Dryden’s Preface to, 385.

Visé or Vizé, Jean Donneau de (1640-1710), 316 _note_.

Vittorino da Feltre, 18.

Vives, Juan Luis (1492-1540), 336, 356.

Vogelweide, Walther von der, 361.

Voiture, Vincent (1598-1648), 246.

Voltaire, François Arouet de (1694-1778), 287 _note_, 317, 513-518,

556.

Voss, Gerard J. (1577-1649), 267, 356-360.

Wallace, Mr A. R., 532 _note_.

Waller, 271, 322, 375 _sq._, 439, 449.

Walpole, Horace, 479.

Warton, Joseph, 321 _note_

—— Thomas, 179 _note_, 479.

Watson, James (King’s printer in Scotland, 1711-22), 457.

—— John (correspondent of Erasmus and Master of Christ’s), 14.

—— Thomas, Bishop of Lincoln, 161.

Webbe, William (_fl. c._ 1580), 178-182.

Webster, John, 187.

Welsted, Leonard (1688-1742), 430, 431.

Wesley, Ch., 87.

—— Samuel, 406.

West, Gilbert, 482 _note_.

Whately, 98, 470.

Whetstone, George (_fl. c._ 1580), 186 _note_.

_Wie weit sich der Nutzen der Regeln in d. Beredsamkeit und Poesie

erstrecke_, 557.

Wild, 377.

Wilson, [Sir] Thomas (?-1581), 148-151.

Winchelsea, Lady, 421, 478, 485.

Winstanley, William (1628?-90?), 399, 400.

Wither, 377, 399.

Woodward, Mr, 18 _note_.

Wordsworth, 72 _note_, 202.

_Works of the Learned_, the, 406 _note_.

Worsfold, Mr, 195 _note_, 437 _sq._

Wotke, Herr, 63 _note_.

Wotton, 450.

Wyatt, Sir Thomas (1503-42), 63, 159 _sq._

Wycherley, 543.

Xenophon, 59.

Yalden, 495.

Zabarella (Professor of Philosophy in latter half of 16th century; not

to be confused with the scholastic Cardinal 150 years earlier), 50

_note_.

_Zénobie_, 309.

Zinano, Gabriele (_fl. c._ 1590), 106, 107.

Zoilus, 397.

Zürichers, the, 554 _sq._

PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Transcriber’s Note

There was no opening half-title in the source used to prepare this text.

Only the validity of index references to _footnotes_ have been checked.

A number of them, listed below, were incorrect.

Index Notes

1: _Arte Nuevo de Hacer Comedias_ refers to a note on p. 50, but there

is no mention there.

2: Camoens refers to a note on p. 553, but there is no mention.

3: Cotin should refer to the text on p. 287 not to a note.

4: Courthope refers incorrectly to a note on p. 444. It should be p. 449

5: Crescimbeni references a non-existent note on p. 218.

6 _De Vulgari Eloquio_ references a note on p 40. The nearest mention is

in the text of p. 38.

7 John Dennis references a note p. 387, but should have been p. 278.

8 Donatus references notes on p. 48 which do not seem pertinent.

9: Herr Hamelius, refers to a note, apparently out of order, which

should be p. 432, not p. 452.

10 Keble mentions a note on p. 312, where he is not mentioned. The same

note is referenced in the entry for _Prælections Academicæ_.

11: La Casa should refer to the text on p. 540, not to a note.

12: _Roman de la Rose_ refers a non-existent note. It _is_ mentioned at

p. 110n, p. 281, and p. 334.

13: _Romeo and Juliet_ has no references. The sole reference appears on

p. 512.

14: Professor Scott refers to a note on p. 519. The note appears on p.

319.

15: _Syphilis_ should refer to the text on p. 44, not to a note there.

16: P.G. Thomas refers to a note on p. 18. The sole reference is to a

note on p. 20.

17: _Venice Preserved_ has no references. It is mentioned on p. 442.

Corrections

Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and

are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original.

19.21 SHORT [“/‘]PRÉCIS’ OF THE DIALOGUES Replaced.

63.33 [“]Fuere et in Britannorum Added.

125.49 [‘/“]Su tu veux faire mourir Replaced.

168.34 _[“]mea domina Immerita_ Added.

180.27 platform or Prosodia of versifying[”]: Added.

180.29 from their divine cogitations[”], Added.

198.34 I pray you[?] Added,

220.21 in that odd famil[i]arity Added.

228.3 the three centur[i]es Inserted.

235.1 a perpetual [“]Thou shalt not.” Restored.

291.39 for his public injustice[.] Added.

306.15 of the Acade[n/m]y Replaced.

331.34 (Ed. 2, 9 vols., Madrid, 1890-1896[)] Added.

431.9 more native and genuine population[.] Added.

516.13 Essai sur la Poésie [E/É]pique Replaced.

522.35 Les Beaux Arts r[e/é]duits à un même principe Replaced.

525.39 _[E/É]léments de Littérature_ Replaced.

526.3 _[E/É]léments de Littérature_ Replaced.

545.37 in any other country[.] Added.

588.16 Leandro Fernandez de M., [(]1760-1828) Added.

A history of criticism and literary taste in Europe from the earliest texts to the present day. Volume 2 (of 3), From the Renaissance to the decline of eighteenth century orthodoxy · 第 14 / 14 章

Gottsched took the classical branch of the letter unflinchingly, and