opportunity, in the course of their labours, to display their Critical
abilities, either by making observations on some popular Author, and
work of known character, or by bringing forth the performances of hidden
merit, and throwing light on genius in obscurity. To the critiques of
_The Spectator_, _Shakespear_, and more particularly, _Milton_, are
indebted, for no inconsiderable share of the reputation, which they now
so universally enjoy; and by his means were the ruder graces, and more
simple beauties of _Chevy Chace_ held up to public view, and recommended
to general admiration.
I should probably be accused of swerving from the imitation of so great
an example, were not I to take occasion to shew that I too am not
entirely destitute of abilities of this kind; but that by possessing a
decent share of critical discernment, and critical jargon, I am capable
of becoming a very tolerable commentator. For the proof of which,
I shall rather prefer calling the attention of my readers to an object
as yet untreated of by any of my immediate predecessors, than venture to
throw in my observations on any work which has before passed the ordeal
of frequent examination. And this I shall do for two reasons; partly,
because were I to choose a field, how fertile soever, of which many
others had before me been reaping the fruits, mine would be at best but
the gleanings of criticism; and partly, from a more interested view,
from a selfish desire of accumulated praise; since, by making a work,
as yet almost wholly unknown, the subject of my consideration, I shall
acquire the reputation of taste, as well as judgement;--of judiciousness
in selection, as well as justness in observation;--of propriety in
choosing the object, as well as skill in using the language, of
commentary.
The _Epic Poem_ on which I shall ground my present critique, has for its
chief characteristics, brevity and simplicity. The Author,--whose name I
lament that I am, in some degree, prevented from consecrating to
immortal fame, by not knowing what it is--the Author, I say, has not
branched his poem into excressences of episode, or prolixities of
digression; it is neither variegated with diversity of unmeaning
similitudes, nor glaring with the varnish of unnatural metaphor. The
whole is plain and uniform; so much so indeed, that I should hardly be
surprised, if some morose readers were to conjecture, that the poet had
been thus simple rather from necessity than choice; that he had been
restrained not so much by chastity of judgement, as sterility of
imagination.
Nay, some there may be perhaps, who will dispute his claim to the title
of an _Epic Poet_; and will endeavour to degrade him even to the rank of
a _ballad-monger_. But I, as his Commentator, will contend for the
dignity of my Author; and will plainly demonstrate his Poem to be an
_Epic Poem_, agreeable to the example of all Poets, and the consent of
all Critics heretofore.
First, it is universally agreed, that an _Epic Poem_ should have three
component parts, _a beginning_, _a middle_, and _an end_;--secondly,
it is allowed, that it should have one _grand action_, or _main design_,
to the forwarding of which, all the parts of it should directly or
indirectly tend; and that this design should be in some measure
consonant with, and conducive to, the purposes of _Morality_;--and
thirdly, it is indisputably settled, that it should have _a Hero_.
I trust that in none of these points the poem before us will be found
deficient. There are other inferior properties, which I shall consider
in due order.
Not to keep my readers longer in suspense, the subject of the poem is
"_The Reformation of the Knave of Hearts_." It is not improbable, that
some may object to me that a _Knave_ is an unworthy Hero for an Epic
Poem; that a Hero ought to be all that is great and good. The objection
is frivolous. The greatest work of this kind that the World has ever
produced, has "_The Devil_" for its hero; and supported as my author is
by so great a precedent, I contend, that his Hero is a very decent Hero;
and especially as he has the advantage of _Milton_'s, by reforming at
the end, is evidently entitled to a competent share of celebrity.
I shall now proceed in the more immediate examination of the poem in its
different parts. The _beginning_, say the Critics, ought to be plain and
simple; neither embellished with the flowers of poetry, nor turgid with
pomposity of diction. In this how exactly does our Author conform to the
established opinion! he begins thus,
"The Queen of Hearts
"She made some Tarts"--
Can any thing be more clear! more natural! more agreeable to the true
spirit of simplicity! Here are no tropes,--no figurative
expressions,--not even so much as an invocation to the Muse. He does not
detain his readers by any needless circumlocution; by unnecessarily
informing them, what he _is_ going to sing; or still more unnecessarily
enumerating what he _is not_ going to sing: but according to the precept
of Horace,
----in medias res,
Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit,----
That is, he at once introduces us, and sets us on the most easy and
familiar footing imaginable, with her Majesty of Hearts, and interests
us deeply in her domestic concerns. But to proceed,
"The Queen of Hearts
"She made some Tarts,
"All on a Summer's Day."
Here indeed the prospect brightens, and we are led to expect some
liveliness of imagery, some warmth of poetical colouring;--but here is
no such thing.--There is no task more difficult to a Poet, than that of
_Rejection_. _Ovid_, among the ancients, and _Dryden_, among the
moderns, were perhaps the most remarkable for the want of it. The latter
from the haste in which he generally produced his compositions, seldom
paid much attention to the "_limæ labor_," "the labour of correction,"
and seldom therefore rejected the assistance of any idea that presented
itself. _Ovid_, not content with catching the leading features of any
scene or character, indulged himself in a thousand minutiæ of
description, a thousand puerile prettinesses, which were in themselves
uninteresting, and took off greatly from the effect of the whole; as the
numberless suckers, and straggling branches of a fruit tree, if
permitted to shoot out unrestrained, while they are themselves barren
and useless, diminish considerably the vigour of the parent stock.
_Ovid_ had more genius, but less judgement than _Virgil_; _Dryden_ more
imagination, but less correctness than _Pope_; had they not been
deficient in these points, the former would certainly have equalled, the
latter infinitely outshone the merits of his countryman.--_Our Author_
was undoubtedly possessed of that power which they wanted; and was
cautious not to indulge too far the sallies of a lively imagination.
Omitting therefore any mention of--sultry Sirius,--silvan
shade,--sequestered glade,--verdant hills,--purling rills,--mossy
mountains,--gurgling fountains,--&c. &c.--he simply tells us that it was
"_All on a Summers Day_." For my own part, I confess, that I find myself
rather flattered than disappointed; and consider the Poet as rather
paying a compliment to the abilities of his readers, than baulking their
expectations. It is certainly a great pleasure to see a picture well
painted; but it is a much greater to paint it well oneself. This
therefore I look upon as a stroke of excellent management in the Poet.
Here every reader is at liberty to gratify his own taste; to design for
himself just what sort of "_Summer's Day_" he likes best; to choose his
own scenery; dispose his lights and shades as he pleases; to solace
himself with a rivulet or a horse-pond,--a shower, or a sun-beam,--a
grove, or a kitchen garden,--according to his fancy. How much more
considerate this, than if the Poet had, from an affected accuracy of
description, thrown us into an unmannerly perspiration by the heat of
the atmosphere; forced us into a landscape of his own planning, with
perhaps a paltry good-for-nothing zephyr or two, and a limited quantity
of wood and water.--All this _Ovid_ would undoubtedly have done. Nay,
to use the expression of a learned brother-commentator, "_quovis pignore
decertem_" "I would lay any wager," that he would have gone so far as to
tell us what the tarts were made of; and perhaps wandered into an
episode on the art of preserving cherries. But _our Poet_, above such
considerations, leaves every reader to choose his own ingredients, and
sweeten them to his own liking; wisely foreseeing, no doubt, that the
more palatable each had rendered them to his own taste, the more he
would be affected at their approaching loss.
"All on a Summer's Day."
I cannot leave this line without remarking, that one of the _Scribleri_,
a descendant of the famous _Martinus_, has expressed his suspicions of
the text being corrupted here, and proposes, instead of "_All on_"
reading "_Alone_," alledging, in favour of this alteration, the effect
of Solitude in raising the passions. But _Hiccius Doctius_, a High Dutch
commentator, one nevertheless well versed in British literature, in a
note of his usual length and learning, has confuted the arguments of
_Scriblerus_. In support of the present reading, he quotes a passage
from a poem written about the same period with our author's, by the
celebrated _Johannes Pastor_[*], intituled "_An Elegiac Epistle to the
Turnkey of Newgate_," wherein the gentleman declares, that rather indeed
in compliance with an old custom, than to gratify any particular will of
his own, he is going
--------"All hanged for to be
"Upon that fatal Tyburn tree."----
[Footnote *: More commonly known, I believe, by the appellation of
"_Jack Shepherd_."]
Now as nothing throws greater light on an author, than the concurrence
of a contemporary writer, I am inclined to be of _Hiccius's_ opinion,
and to consider the "_All_" as an elegant expletive, or, as he more
aptly phrases it "_elegans expletivum_." The passage therefore must
stand thus,
"The Queen of Hearts
"She made some Tarts,
"All on a Summer's Day."
And thus ends the first part, or _beginning_; which is simple and
unembellished; opens the subject in a natural and easy manner; excites,
but does not too far gratify our curiosity: for a reader of accurate
observation may easily discover, that the _Hero_ of the Poem has not,
as yet, made his appearance.
I could not continue my examination at present through the whole of this
Poem, without far exceeding the limits of a single paper. I have
therefore divided it into two; but shall not delay the publication of
the second to another week,--as that, besides breaking the connection of
criticism, would materially injure the _unities_ of the Poem.
No. XII.
of the
MICROCOSM.
MONDAY, _February 12, 1787_.
--------Servetur ad imum,
Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet.
HORACE.
From his first Entrance to the closing Scene,
Let him one equal Character maintain.
FRANCIS.
Having thus gone through the first part, or _beginning_ of the Poem,
we may naturally enough proceed to the consideration of the second.
The second part, or _middle_, is the proper place for bustle and
business; for incident and adventure.
"The Knave of Hearts
"He stole those Tarts."
Here attention is awakened; and our whole souls are intent upon the
first appearance of the Hero. Some readers may perhaps be offended at
his making his _entré_ in so disadvantageous a character as that of a
_thief_. To this I plead precedent.
The Hero of the Iliad, as I observed in a former paper, is made to
lament very pathetically,--that "life is not like all other possessions,
to be acquired by theft."--A reflection, in my opinion, evidently
shewing, that, if he _did_ refrain from the practice of this ingenious
art, it was not from want of an inclination that way. We may remember
too, that in _Virgil's_ poem, almost the first light in which the _Pious
Æneas_ appears to us, is a _deer-stealer_; nor is it much excuse for
him, that the deer were wandering without keepers; for however he might,
from this circumstance, have been unable to ascertain whose property
they were; he might, I think, have been pretty well assured that they
were not _his_.
Having thus acquitted our Hero of misconduct, by the example of his
betters, I proceed to what I think the Master-Stroke of the Poet.
"The Knave of Hearts
"He stole those Tarts,
"And----took them----quite away!!"
Here, whoever has an ear for harmony, and a heart for feeling, must be
touched! There is a desponding melancholy in the run of the last line!
an air of tender regret in the addition of "_quite away!_" a something
so expressive of irrecoverable loss! so forcibly intimating the "_Ah
nunquam reditura!_" "They never can return!" in short, such an union of
sound and sense, as we rarely, if ever meet with in any author, ancient
or modern. Our feelings are all alive--but the Poet, wisely dreading
that our sympathy with the injured Queen might alienate our affections
from his Hero, contrives immediately to awaken our fears for him,
by telling us, that
"The King of Hearts
"Call'd for those Tarts,"--
We are all conscious of the fault of our Hero, and all tremble with him,
for the punishment which the enraged Monarch may inflict;
"And beat the Knave--full sore!"
The fatal blow is struck! We cannot but rejoice that guilt is justly
punished, though we sympathize with the guilty object of punishment.
Here _Scriblerus_, who, by the bye, is very fond of making unnecessary
alterations, proposes reading "_Score_" instead of "_sore_," meaning
thereby to particularize, that the beating bestowed by this Monarch,
consisted of _twenty_ stripes. But this proceeds from his ignorance of
the genius of our language, which does not admit of such an expression
as "_full score_," but would require the insertion of the particle
"_a_," which cannot be, on account of the metre. And this is another
great artifice of the Poet: by leaving the quantity of beating
indeterminate, he gives every reader the liberty to administer it, in
exact proportion to the sum of indignation which he may have conceived
against his Hero; that by thus amply satisfying their resentment, they
may be the more easily reconciled to him afterwards.
"The King of Hearts
"Call'd for those Tarts,
"And beat the Knave full sore!"
Here ends the second part, or _middle_ of the poem; in which we see the
character, and exploits of the Hero, pourtrayed with the hand of a
master.
Nothing now remains to be examined, but the third part, or _End_. In the
_End_, it is a rule pretty well established, that the Work should draw
towards a conclusion, which our Author manages thus.
"The Knave of Hearts
"Brought back those Tarts."
Here every thing is at length settled; the theft is compensated; the
tarts restored to their right owner; and _Poetical Justice_, in every
respect, strictly, and impartially administered.
We may observe, that there is nothing in which our Poet has better
succeeded, than in keeping up an unremitted attention in his readers to
the main instruments, the machinery of his poem, viz. The _Tarts_;
insomuch, that the aforementioned _Scriblerus_ has sagely observed, that
"he can't tell, but he doesn't know, but the tarts may be reckoned the
heroes of the Poem." _Scriblerus_, though a man of learning, and
frequently right in his opinion, has here certainly hazarded a rash
conjecture. His arguments are overthrown entirely by his great opponent,
_Hiccius_, who concludes, by triumphantly asking, "Had the tarts been
eaten, how could the Poet have compensated for the loss of his Heroes?"
We are now come to the _denouèment_, the setting all to rights: and our
Poet, in the management of his _moral_, is certainly superior to his
great ancient predecessors. The moral of their fables, if any they have,
is so interwoven with the main body of their work, that in endeavouring
to unravel it, we should tear the whole. _Our Author_ has very properly
preserved his whole and entire for the _end_ of his poem, where he
completes his _main design_, the _Reformation_ of his Hero, thus,
"And vow'd he'd steal no more."
Having in the course of his work, shewn the bad effects arising from
theft, he evidently means this last moral reflection, to operate with
his readers as a gentle and polite dissuasive from stealing.
"The Knave of Hearts
"Brought back those Tarts,
"And vow'd he'd steal no more!"
Thus have I industriously gone through the several parts of this
wonderful Work; and clearly proved it, in every one of these parts, and
in all of them together, to be a _due and proper Epic Poem_; and to have
as good a right to that title, from its adherence to prescribed rules,
as any of the celebrated master-pieces of antiquity. And here I cannot
help again lamenting, that, by not knowing the name of the Author, I am
unable to twine our laurels together; and to transmit to posterity the
mingled praises of Genius, and Judgment; of the Poet, and his
commentator.
Having some space left in this paper, I will now, with the permission of
my readers of the _great world_, address myself more particularly to my
fellow-citizens.
To them, the essay which I have here presented, will, I flatter myself,
be peculiarly serviceable at this time; and I would earnestly recommend
an attentive perusal of it, to all of them whose muses are engaged in
compositions of the Epic kind.--I am very much afraid that I may run
into the error, which I have myself pointed out, of becoming too
_local_,--but where it is evidently intended for the good of my fellow
citizens, it may, I hope, be now and then pardonable. At the present
juncture, as many have applied for my assistance, I cannot find in my
heart to refuse it them. Were I to attempt fully explaining, why, at the
_present juncture_, I fear it would be vain. Would it not seem
incredible to the Ladies, were I to tell them, that the period
approaches, when upwards of a hundred _Epic Poems_ will be exposed to
public view, most of them nearly of equal length, and many of them
nearly of equal merit, with the one which I have here taken into
consideration; illustrated moreover with elegant etchings, designed
either as _hieroglyphical_ explanations of the subject, or as _practical
puns_ on the name of the author?--And yet in truth so it is,--and on
this subject I wish to give a word of advice to my countrymen.
Many of them have applied to me by letter, to assist them with designs
for prefixing to their poems; and this I should very willingly have
done, had those gentlemen been kind enough to subscribe their real names
to their requests: whereas, all that I have received have been signed,
_Tom Long_, _Philosophus_, _Philalethes_, and such like. I have
therefore been prevented from affording them the assistance I wished;
and cannot help wondering, that the gentlemen did not consider, that it
was impossible for me to provide _typical references_ for feigned names;
as, for ought I know, the person who signs himself _Tom Long_ may not be
four feet high; _Philosophus_ may be possessed of a considerable share
of folly; and _Philalethes_ may be as arrant a liar as any in the
kingdom.
It may not however be useless to offer some general reflections for all
who may require them. It is not improbable, that, as the subject of
their poems is the _Restoration_, many of my fellow-citizens may choose
to adorn their _title-pages_ with the representation of His Majesty,
Charles the Second, escaping the vigilance of his pursuers in the _Royal
Oak_. There are some particularities generally observable in this
picture, which I shall point out to them, lest they fall into similar
errors. Though I am as far as any other Briton can be, from wishing to
"curtail" his Majesty's Wig "of its fair proportion;" yet I have
sometimes been apt to think it rather improper, to make the Wig, as is
usually done, of larger dimensions than the tree in which it and his
Majesty are concealed. It is a rule in Logic, and I believe may hold
good in most other Sciences, that "_omne majus continet in se minus_,"
that "every thing larger can hold any thing that is less;" but I own,
I never heard the contrary advanced or defended with any plausible
arguments, viz. "that every little thing can hold one larger."
I therefore humbly propose, that there should be at least an edge of
foliage round the outskirts of the said wig; and that its curls should
not exceed in number the leaves of the tree. There is also another
practice almost equally prevalent, of which I am sceptic enough to doubt
the propriety. I own, I cannot think it by any means conducive to the
more effectual concealment of his Majesty, that there should be three
Regal Crowns stuck on three different branches of the tree. Horace says
indeed,
--------Pictoribus atque Poetis,
Quidlibet audendi semper fuit æqua potestas.
Painters and Poets our indulgence claim,
_Their daring equal, and their art the same._--FRAN.
And this may be reckoned a very allowable _poetical licence_; inasmuch
as it lets the spectator into the secret, _who is in the tree_. But it
is apt to make him at the same time throw the accusation of negligence
and want of penetration on the three dragoons, who are usually depicted
on the foreground, cantering along very composedly, with serene
countenances, erect persons, and drawn swords, very little longer than
themselves.
* * * * *
* * * *
PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
[Transcriber's Note:
Many of the listed titles are or will be available from Project
Gutenberg. Where possible, the e-text number is given in brackets.]
*First Year (1946-1947)*
Numbers 1-6 out of print.
[Titles:
1. Richard Blackmore's _Essay upon Wit_ (1716), and Addison's
_Freeholder_ No. 45 (1716). [13484]
2. Anon., _Essay on Wit_ (1748), together with Characters by
Flecknoe, and Joseph Warton's _Adventurer_ Nos. 127 and 133.
[14973]
3. Anon., _Letter to A. H. Esq.; concerning the Stage_ (1698), and
Richard Willis' _Occasional Paper_ No. IX (1698). [14047]
4. Samuel Cobb's _Of Poetry_ and _Discourse on Criticism_ (1707).
[14528]
5. Samuel Wesley's _Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry_ (1700)
and _Essay on Heroic Poetry_ (1693). [16506]
6. Anon., _Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage_
(1704) and anon., _Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage_ (1704).
[15656] ]
*Second Year (1947-1948)*
7. John Gay's _The Present State of Wit_ (1711); and a section on Wit
from _The English Theophrastus_ (1702). [#14800]
8. Rapin's _De Carmine Pastorali_, translated by Creech (1684).
[#14495]
9. T. Hanmer's (?) _Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet_ (1736).
[#14899]
10. Corbyn Morris' _Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit,
etc._ (1744). [#16233]
11. Thomas Purney's _Discourse on the Pastoral_ (1717). [#15313]
12. Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph
Wood Krutch. [#16335]
*Third Year (1948-1949)*
13. Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), _The Theatre_ (1720). [#15999]
14. Edward Moore's _The Gamester_ (1753). [#16267]
15. John Oldmixon's _Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley_
(1712); and Arthur Mainwaring's _The British Academy_ (1712).
[In preparation]
16. Nevil Payne's _Fatal Jealousy_ (1673). [#16916]
17. Nicholas Rowe's _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William
Shakespeare_ (1709). [#16275]
18. "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719);
and Aaron Hill's Preface to _The Creation_ (1720). [#15870]
*Fourth Year (1949-1950)*
19. Susanna Centlivre's _The Busie Body_ (1709). [#16740]
20. Lewis Theobold's _Preface to The Works of Shakespeare_ (1734).
[#16346]
21. _Critical Remarks on Sir Charles Grandison, Clarissa, and Pamela_
(1754).
22. Samuel Johnson's _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749) and Two
_Rambler_ papers (1750). [#13350]
23. John Dryden's _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681). [#15074]
24. Pierre Nicole's _An Essay on True and Apparent Beauty in Which
from Settled Principles is Rendered the Grounds for Choosing and
Rejecting Epigrams_, translated by J. V. Cunningham.
*Fifth Year (1950-1951)*
25. Thomas Baker's _The Fine Lady's Airs_ (1709). [#14467]
26. Charles Macklin's _The Man of the World_ (1792). [#14463]
27. Out of print.
[Frances Reynolds' _An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Taste,
and of the Origin of Our Ideas of Beauty, etc._ (1785). [#13485] ]
28. John Evelyn's _An Apologie for the Royal Party_ (1659); and
_A Panegyric to Charles the Second_ (1661). [#17833]
29. Daniel Defoe's _A Vindication of the Press_ (1718). [#14084]
30. Essays on Taste from John Gilbert Cooper's _Letters Concerning
Taste_, 3rd edition (1757), & John Armstrong's _Miscellanies_
(1770). [#13464]