Monsieur Bossu's treatise of the epick poem containing many curious reflexions, very useful and necessary for the right understanding and judging of the excellencies of Homer and Virgil / done into English from the French, with a new original preface upon the same subject, by W.J. ; to which are added, An essay upon satyr, by Monsieur D'Acier ; and A treatise upon pastorals, by Monsieur Fontanelle.

Monsieur Bossu's Treatise OF THE EPICK POEM .

BOOK I. Of the Nature of the Epick Poem ; and of the Fable .

CHAP. I. The Design of the whole Work .

ARTS , as well as Sciences , are founded upon Reason , and in both we are to be guided by the Light of Nature . But in Sciences , neither the Inventers , nor the Improvers of them , are to make use of any other Guides but this Light of Nature : Whereas on the other hand , all Arts depend upon a great many other things , such as the Choice and Genius of those , who first invented them , or of those who have labour'd at them with an Universal Applause .

Poetry is of this Nature : And thò Reason might have first founded it , yet it cannot be deny'd but that the Invention of Poets , and the Choice they have been pleas'd to make , have added thereto both its Matter and Form . 'T is then in the excellent Pieces of Antiquity we are to look for the Fundamentals of this Art : And , they are only to be rely'd on , to whom all others yield the Glory of having either practis'd with the most Success , or collected and prescrib'd Rules with the greatest Judgment .

The Greeks and Latins have furnish'd us with Examples of both kinds . Aristotle and Horace left behind them such Rules , as make them by all Men of Learning , to be look'd upon as perfect Masters of the Art of Poetry : And the Poems of Homer and Virgil are , by the Grant of all Ages , the most perfect Models of this way of Writing , the World ever saw . So that if ever a Just and Supreme Authority had the Power to prescribe Laws and Rules to any Art , one cannot question but these four Persons had all Authority on their side , with respect to the Epick Poem . And this is the only kind we shall treat of at present .

'T is true , the Men of our Times may have as much Spirit as the Ancients had ; and in those things which depend upon Choice and Invention , they may likewise have as just and as lucky Fancies : But then it would be a Piece of Injustice to pretend that our new Rules destroy those of our first Masters ; and that they must needs condemn all their Works , who could not foresee our Humours , nor adapt themselves to the Genius of such Persons as were to be born in after-Ages , under different Governments , and under a different Religion from theirs ; and with Manners , Customs , and Languages , that have no kind of relation to them .

Having no Design then by this Treatise to make Poets after the Model of our Age ( with which I am not sufficiently acquainted ) but only to furnish my self with some sort of Foundation in the Design I have of explaining the Aeneid of Virgil ; I need not concern my self with every new Invention of these last Times . I am not of Opinion , that what our late Authors think is universal Reason , and such a common Notion as Nature must needs have put into the Head of Virgil. But leaving Posterity to determine whether these Novelties be well or ill devis'd , I shall only acquiesce in what I think may be prov'd from Homer , Aristotle , and Horace . I will interpret the one by the Other , and Virgil by all Three , as having the same Genius and Idea of the Epick Poesie .

CHAP. II. What is the Nature of the Epick Poem .

THE most considerable difference my Subject presents me with between the Style of the Ancients , and that of the last Ages , is , That our way of Speaking is plain , proper , and without the Turn : Whereas theirs was full of Mysteries and Allegories . The Truth was mask'd under these ingenious Inventions , which for their Excellence go under the name of Fables , or Sayings ; as if there were as much difference between these fabulous Discourses of the Wise , and the ordinary Language of the Vulgar , as there is between the Language that is proper to Men , and the Sounds brute Beasts make use of to express their Passions and Sensations .

At first the Fables were employ'd in speaking of the Divine Nature according to the Notion they then had of it . This sublime Subject made the first Poets to be stil'd Divines , and Poetry the Language of the Gods . They divided the Divine Attributes as it were into so many Persons ; because the Infirmity of a Humane Mind cannot sufficiently conceive , or explain so much Power and Action in a Simplicity so great and indivisible as is that of God . And perhaps they were jealous of the Advantages they reap'd from such excellent and refin'd Learning , and which they thought the vulgar part of Mankind was not worthy of .

They could not tell us of the Operations of this Almighty Cause , without speaking at the same time of its Effects : So that to Divinity they added Physiology , and treated thereof , without quitting the Umbrages of their Allegorical Expressions .

But Man being the chief and the most noble of all the Effects which God produc'd , and nothing being so proper , nor more useful to Poets than this Subject , they have added it to the former , and treated of the Doctrine of Morality after the same manner as they did that of Divinity and Philosophy : And from Morality thus discours'd of , has Art form'd that kind of Poem and Fable , which we call the Epick .

What the Divines made their Divinity , that did the Epick Poets make their Morality . But that infinite Variety of the Actions and Operations of the Divine Nature ( to which our Understanding bears but little proportion ) did as it were force them upon dividing the single Idea of the only one God into several Persons , under the different Names of Jupiter , Juno , Neptune , and the rest . And on the other hand , the Nature of Moral Philosophy being such as never lays down a Rule for any particular thing , the Epick Poets were oblig'd to unite in one single Idea , in one and the same Person , and in an Action that appear'd singular , all that look'd like it in different Persons , and in various Actions , which might be thus contain'd as so many Species under their Genus .

Therefore when Aristotle speaks to this purpose , That Poetry is more serious than 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 9. History , and that Poets are greater Philosophers than Historians are : He does not only speak this to magnifie the Excellence of this Art , but to inform us also of the Nature of it . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Ibid . Poesie , says he , teaches Morality not by Recital only as an Historian , who barely tells us what Alcibiades for Instance ( 't is Aristotle's own Instance ) did or suffer'd : But by proposing whatever a Person , let the Poet call him by what name he pleases , ought either necessarily , or in all probability , to have said or done upon that or the like occasion ? 'T is in this Nature that the Poet lays down the bad Consequences of an ill-grounded Design or a wicked Action ; or else the Reward of good Actions , and the Satisfaction one receives from a Design form'd by Vertue , and manag'd by Prudence . Thus in the † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Ibid . Epopea , according to Aristotle , let the Names be what they will , yet the Persons and the Actions are Feign'd , Allegorical , and Vniversal ; not Historical and Singular .

Horace is likewise of the same mind , as we shall see hereafter . Only by the way we cannot but observe , that he not only says * * Quicquid sit pulchrum , quid turpe , quid utile , quid non , Plenius & melius Chrysippo & Crantore dicit . Epist. Lib. 1. Ep. 2. that Poets teach Men Morality full as well as Philosophers , but in that he even gives Homer the Pre-eminence .

The reason Poets are more excellent herein than the plain downright Philosopher , is this , † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. c. 1. that every sort of Poem is in general an Imitation . Now Imitation is extremely natural , and pleases every body : By which means this way of proposing things is more charming , and more proper to take with an Audience . Besides Imitation is an Instruction by Examples ; and Examples are very proper to perswade , since they prove such or such a thing is feasible . In short , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 4. Imitation is so far the Essence of Poetry , that it is Poetry it self , as Aristotle the first Founder of this Art tells us : And † † Respicere exemplar vitae morumque jubebo Doctum Imitatorem , & veras hinc ducere Voces . Hor. Art. Poet. Horace recommends it very particularly to the Poet he would create .

But thô Poets play the Moral Philosophers , yet still they are no less Divines . The Morality they deal withal , does indispensibly oblige them to have a Vein of Divinity run thrô all their Works : Because the Knowledge , the Fear , and the Love of God ; in a Word , Piety and Religion , are the chief and solidest Foundations of other Vertues , and of all Morality .

The Presence of the Deity , and the Care such an August Cause ought to take about any Action , obliges the Poet to represent this Action as great , important , and manag'd by * * Res gestae regumque Ducumque . Hor. Art. Poet. Kings and Princes . It obliges him likewise to think and speak in an elevated way above the Vulgar , and in a Style that may in some sort keep up the Character of the Divine Persons he introduces . † † Cui mens divinior atque os Magna sonaturum des Nominis hujus honorem . Horat. To this end serves the Poetical and Figurative Expression , and the Majesty of the Heroick Verse .

But all this , being divine and surprizing , may quite ruine all Probability : Therefore the Poet should take special care as to that Point , since his chief aim is to instruct , and without Probability any Action is less likely to perswade .

To all this the Poets are oblig'd by the substance of the Things they propose to themselves as the subject Matter of their Poems and Instructions . The manner of teaching them usefully and methodically , has likewise oblig'd them to add several other Rules .

The Epopéa's business is with the Morals and Habitudes more than the Passions . These rise on a sudden , and their Heat is soon over ; but the Habitudes are more calm , and come on , and go off more leisurely . Therefore the Epick Action cannot be contain'd in one single day , as the Dramatick can : It must have a longer and more just space allow'd it , than that of Tragedy , which is only allow'd for the Passions .

This Distinction makes the Tragedy and the Epopéa differ very much . The violence of Tragedy requires a great deal more lively and brisk Representation than that of a Recital : besides it is all Action , and the Poet says never a Word , as he does in the Epopéa , where there are no Actors .

But if in this the Epopéa is inferiour to the Drama , yet 't is superiour to both Philosophy and History : because 't is a great deal more active than bare Philosophy , and the Recitals of History : And thô it does not present Actors to the Eyes of the Spectators , yet it ought at least more frequently than Historians , to break off the Thread of its Discourse by the Speeches of its Personages . This Aristotle orders , when he says , that the Narration of the Epick ought to be Dramatick , that is to say , very active .

It has likewise its Passions , which give it no small Advantage over Philosophy and History : But in this it is inferiour to Tragedy . For thô it has a mixture of all the Passions , yet Joy and Admiration are the most essential to it . These indeed contribute most towards the making us wise Men : Admiration and Curiosity are the Cause of Sciences ; and nothing engages us so forcibly as Pleasure . So that these two Passions must never be wanting to any invented Piece , if we would be inform'd in what we are indispensibly oblig'd to know .

To conclude , because the Precepts had need be * * Quicquid praecipies esto brevis , ut citò dicta Percipiant animi dociles , teneantque fideles . Hor. Poet. concise , that so they may be more easily conceiv'd , and less burden the Memory ; and because nothing can be more effectual thereto , than proposing one single Idea , and collecting all things so well together , that so they may be present to our Minds all at once , the Poets have reduc'd all to one † † Denique sit quodvis simplex duntaxat , & unum . Ibid. single Action , under one and the same Design , and in a Body whose Members and Parts should be homogeneous .

CHAP. III. The Definition of the Epick Poem .

THat which we have observ'd concerning the Nature of the Epick Poem , gives us a just Idea of it , which we may express thus :

The EPOPEA is a Discourse invented by Art , to form the Manners by such Instructions as are disguis'd under the Allegories of some one important Action , which is related in Verse . after a probable , diverting , and surprizing Manner .

This here is the Definition of the Epopéa , and not of Poetry it self . For that is an Art of making all sorts of Poems , of which the Epick is but a part . The Epopéa then is not an Art , but an artificial thing , as 't is express'd in the Definition , which says 't is a Discourse invented by Art .

It is likewise one sort of Poem , as 't is intimated in the Definition by its being call'd a Discourse in Verse : And the rest distinguishes it from all other sorts of Poems .

The Action of Comedy is not very important ; and besides the * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. c. 3. Poet says nothing , but only the Persons he introduces , say and act All , just as in Tragedy . For this reason both This and That is stil'd a Dramatick Poem . And thus it is plain the Epopéa is neither Tragedy nor Comedy .

Nor is it a piece of Natural Philosophy , as the Poems of Empedocles and Lucretius : Nor a Treatise of Husbandry , and the like , as the Georgicks of Virgil : Because these Pieces are not design'd to form Men's Manners , and the Instructions contain'd in them are naked , simple , and proper , without Disguise and Allegories .

This second reason , which more especially concerns the Essence and Nature of Poesy , does likewise exclude from the number of Epick Poems , any Piece of Morality writ in Verse , and a plain History , such as Lucan's Pharsalia , the Punick War of Silius Italicus , and such like real Actions of some singular Persons without a Fable , and in short every thing that is describ'd in Verse after this manner .

I shall not trouble my head to take notice how the Epopéa , differs from the Satyr , the Eclogue , the Ode , the Elegy , the Epigram , and other lesser Poems : For this is self-evident .

But it will not be amiss to reflect upon what has been already said , and from thence to conclude that the Epopéa has some relation to Four Things ; viz. to the Poem , to the Fable , to Moral Philosophy , and to History .

It has a relation to History , because as well This as That relates one or more Actions : But the Actions of History are singular and true , so that the Epopéa is neither a History , nor a Species of History .

It has a necessary relation to Morality , since both one and the other instructs Men in their Morals ; but the Action and the Allegories which are proper to it , is the cause why properly speaking it is not Moral Philosophy , although it may be stil'd a Species of it ; and in short , it has a great deal more relation to this than to History .

But it belongs altogether to the Poem and the Fable , since it is properly and truly a Poem and a Fable ; and is only distinguish'd from other Poems and Fables , as several Species , which equally partake of the same Genus , are distinguish'd from one another . Besides , the Definition does exactly include both , since a Poem is a Discourse in Verse , and a Fable is a Discourse invented to form Men's Morals by Instructions disguis'd under the Allegories of an Action . So that one might abridge the Definition we have given of the Epick Poem , and only say , that it is a Fable gracefully form'd upon an important Action , which is related in Verse after a very probable and surprising manner .

CHAP. IV. Of the Parts of the Epick Poem . The Division of this Treatise .

THE Parts of the Epick Poem contain'd in the former Definition are its Nature , its Matter , its Form , and its Manner of proposing Things .

It s Nature is twofold ; for the Epopéa is both a Fable and a Poem . But these two several Genus's agree very well together , and compose a Body , that is no Monster . One may likewise very well separate these two Natures from one another , and say , that the Fable is that which constitutes the Nature of the Epopéa ; and that the Poem tells us how to manage the Fable , and comprehends the Thoughts , the Expression , and the Verse .

The Matter of it is an Action feign'd with probability , and drawn from the Actions of Kings , Princes , and Gods . This tells us two Things , the Action and the Persons , and therein it does not at all differ from Tragedy .

The Form of it is , that the Persons are not here introduc'd to the Spectator's view , acting by themselves without the Poet , as in Tragedy : But that the Action is recited by the Poet.

The End of the Epick Poem is to lay down Moral Instructions for all sorts of People both in general and in particular . This part belongs to the Poem as it is a Fable . It contains the Moral which serves for the Foundation of the Fable ; and besides that it contains the Manners of those Personages who make some considerable Figure in the Poem .

Lastly , as the Form includes the Person of the Poet who makes the Rehearsal : So does the End comprehend the Persons of the Audience for whom the Poet designs his Instructions .

All these Things will make up the Subject-Matter of this Treatise : But 't is not necessary they should be all handled with the same particularity and exactness .

Some will very naturally fall under others , as that will , for instance , which we have to say concerning the Poet and his Audience .

To treat of the End and the Moral a-part would require too vast a Compass ; I shall content my self to speak thereof in speaking of the Fable , and in other Places , where the necessary connexion of that Part with the rest will afford me just Occasions of speaking as much of it as is requisite for my purpose .

Aristotle divided the Thoughts and Expressions into two Parts , as was very requisite : But so many Authors have handled these Things , and so copiously too , that I think my self excused from repeating and copying those Things , which are under the Jurisdiction of other Arts. I will leave these Things then to the Rhetoricians , Grammarians , and to those who have writ so much about them even in Poetry it self . So that the little I have to say will be compris'd in one part . And my Unwillingness to be copious , is the Reason which obliges me to speak still less of the Poem and Versification .

But I shall write very fully of the Fable , as being the most essential part of the Epopéa . So likewise I shall concerning it a Form , and its Matter . Nay more , I shall handle distinctly the Morals of the Persons . And lastly , I shall distinguish the Gods from the Men. The Gods are usually express'd by the Name of Machines , because the Poets make use of such to let them down upon the Theatre ; from whence the Epopéa has likewise borrowed the Name .

According to this Account , this Treatise will be divided into six Parts or Books .

The First will be concerning the Nature of the Epick Poem , where we shall treat of the Fable . The Second Book will treat of the Matter , or of the Epick Action . The Third of the Form , or the Narration . The Fourth of the Manners and Characters of Humane Personages . The Fifth of Machines , or of the Presence and Action of the Gods . And the Sixth of the Thoughts and Expressions .

CHAP. V. Of the Poem .

A Poem is a Discourse in Verse ; and a Verse is a part of a Discourse measur'd by a certain number of long and short Syllables , with a grateful Cadence , that is constantly repeated . This Repetition is necessary to distinguish the Notion we have of Verse , from that of Prose . For in Prose as well as Verse , every Period and Clause are so many parts of a Discourse measured by a certain number of long and short Syllables ; but Prose is ever and anon altering its Cadences and Measures , which Verse never does .

The Repetition , which the Poets make use of , seems still the same in the way of Writing : for , when one Verse is finish'd , they come back again to the beginning of another Line to write the next Verse . And this coming back again , is that which gives it the Name of ‖ ‖ Versus . Verse ; and this Name in Latin is common to Verses , and several other things that are rang'd , as they are , in different Lines ; as Trees , for instance , which are set in Rows .

The Latins call Verses likewise by the Name of Carmina ; but this is an Equivocal Term : for besides its signifying Verses , or Poems , it may be used to express other things . 'T is a Term that is given to the * * Ramoque sedens miserabile Carmen Integrat . Virg. Geor. 4. Singing of Birds , to the † † Ducite ab urbe domum , mea Carmina , ducite Daphnim . Carmina vel coelo possunt deducere lunam . Carminibus Circe socios mutavit Ulyssis . Ecl. 8. Charms of Magick , to certain ‡ ‡ Lex horrendi Carminis erat : Duûmviri perduellionem judicent , si à Duûmviris provocatione certârit , provocatione certato , &c. Tit. Liv. Hist. l. 1. Forms of Law , to ‖ ‖ Rem Carmine signo : Aeneas haec de Danais Victoribus Armis . Virg. Aeneid . l. 3. Inscriptions or Devices , to ** ** Tumulo superaddite Carmen ; Daplinis ego in sylvis hinc usque ad sidera notus , Formosi pecoris custos , formosior ipse . Virg. Ecl. 5. Epitaphs , and other such like things .

For the making of Verses , 't is not enough to take care of the Measure and Quantity of the Syllables , and to place six Feet just after one another in the same Line ; there must be likewise some grateful Cadences , of which there are several Rules laid down in treating about Caesura's , Synalepha's , the Length of Words , and the like . Besides this , there must be some Tenses of Verbs , some Moods , some Regiments , some Constructions , and some Words proper only to Verse , and which Prose knows nothing of .

But above all , there must be in Verse the Turn , and some ways of speaking that are elevated , bold , and metaphorical ; which are so proper to this kind of Writing , that without them the most exact placing of long and short Syllables is not so much Verse as Prose in Metre : And , on the contrary , these bold Expressions , so proper to Verse , when used in a Discourse that has not Feet nor Poetical Numbers , do give it such an Air of Verse , that it is not so properly Prose , as a kind of Poesie without Numbers , and as Horace says , Disjecti Membra Poetae .

As * * Ego nec studium sine divite venâ , nec rude quid prosit video ingenium . Hor. Poet. Nature does not inspire into us the Rules of Poetry and Verse ; so neither does Art and Study help us to that Air , that Force , and that Elevation , in which Horace discovers something that is Divine , and which only makes a Man deserve the Name of Poet. This is an Accomplishment a Man should be born with , owing either to the Excellency of his Nature , or to some happy Transports ; but withall so extraordinary , that the Ancients , and † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. cap. 17. Aristotle himself , stile them Fits of Enthusiasm or Frensie : yet still there is to be supposed an exact and solid Judgment to master this Frensie and Imagination of the Poet.

From what has been said , we may conclude that the End of Poetry is to please : that its Cause is either the Excellency of the Poet's Nature , or the Poetick Frensie , and these Transports of Spirit , that are to be govern'd by Judgment . It s Matter is the long and short Syllables , the Numbers it is made up of , and the Words which Grammar furnishes it with , as well as Prose . And its Form is the ranging of all these Things in such exact and charming Verses , as may best express the Thoughts of the Author after the manner we have been describing .

But after all , how confin'd is all this , if we consider the great Name of Poet in the Honour Homer and Virgil did it , and in all the Extent it is capable of ! What we have said about it has nothing of Praise-worthy in it , but what ev'ry pitiful Translator may pretend to , and what the War of Catiline turn'd into Verse might bestow upon him , that would transpose the Prose of Sallust after this manner . 'T is with Reason then that we distinguish these mean Subjects from great Poetry , by giving them the name of Versification ; and that we make , as it were , two distinct Arts of Versification and Poetry . In a word , there is as much Difference between the Art of Making Verses , and that of Inventing Poems , as there is between Grammar and Rhetorick .

This great Art consists chiefly in the Fable , in the manner of Expressing Things by Allegories and Metaphors , and in the Invention of some probable Matter ; that is , of some Actions , under which the Poet very charmingly disguises the Truths he would have us learn . This is so proper to the Poet , that even in the Expression ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 22. Aristotle recommends nothing so much as the Metaphor . Which agrees very well with that which we have already said about the Nature of Poetry . For the Fables are so many Allegorical Disguises , and an Allegory is nothing else but a Series and Chain of Metaphors linked together .

We shall speak of the Fable , and these important Matters in the Sequel of this Treatise . We shall here only make this one Reflection ; That the true Poems , and such as have more of the Essence and Nature of Great Poetry than any other , are the Epapcit , the Tragedy , and the Comedy ; for they are all Allegorical and Fabulous . Nor has * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 6. Aristotle in his Poetry undertaken to treat of any more than these three sorts . If we compare them together , the Epopéa will excel the other two by that great Liberty it takes of using Metaphors and perpetual Allusions in the Fables . Allegorical Expressions would be more obscure upon the Stage , and would have something that is less probable in the Mouth of the Actors we hear speak , than in the Narration of a Poet , who writes purely to be read . Comedy must likewise yield to Tragedy , because it has little of Elevation , and the manner of its Actors Speaking , is too Natural and Familiar .

This very Thing has made some People question whether † † Idicirco quidam Comoedia necne Poema esset quaesivere : quod acer spiritus ac vis nec Verbis nec rebus inest ; nisi quod pede certo differt sermoni sermo Merus . Hor. Lib. 1. Sat. 4. Comedy were a true Poem or no. Which Difficulty is wholly grounded upon this general Notion , That a Poem is a Discourse in Verse . Now in the Latin Comedy , the Discourse has nothing in it of Verse , but Feet and Numbers . This indeed is enough for such a Poetical Subject as Comedy is . And we suppose in this we are of Horace's Opinion , at least he attributes this Doubt to a very few Persons .

But this measure only , without any Air to distinguish the Discourse from Prose , makes no Verses : And for this Reason has . ‡ ‡ Primum ego meillorum dederim quibus esse Poëtas , Excerpam numero ; neque enim concludere Versum Dixeris esse satis ; neque si quis scribat uti nos Sermoni propiora , putes hunc esse Poëtam . Ibid. Horace call'd his Satyrs by a Prose Name ; viz. Sermons . His Epistles are the same . His Odes are of a different Air , and these he calls by a Poetical Name , Carmina .

The Case is not the same with Subjects that are not Poetical , but writ in Verse , and adorn'd with Fables and Allegories ; as , the Georgicks of Virgil , Lucan's Pharsalia , the Punick War of Silius Italicus , and the like . The truth on 't is , these Fables and Allegories are not sufficient for an Epopéa , and its main Action , that ought to be a Fable ; so that we do not take the Georgicks or the Pharsalia to be an Epopéa ; but yet this should not hinder us from thinking them to be true Poems for all that .

But if a Man writes an Epopéa in Prose , would it be an Epick Poem ? No , I think not ; for a Poem is a Discourse in Verse . But yet this would not hinder its being an Epopéa ; just as a Tragedy in Prose is still a Tragedy , though it be not a Tragick Poem . They who have question'd whether the Latin Comedy were a Poem or no , never doubted but it was a Comedy .

I should have said less upon such trite Matters , but that I was asham'd to take no notice at all what a Poem or a Verse was , being to treat so largely about the Epick Poem .

CHAP. VI. Of the Fable .

* * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 6. ARistotle says , The Fable is the principal Part of the Poem , and that 't is as it were the very Soul of it . Therefore we must look for the Nature of the Epopéa in that of the Fable , and consider That as the chief Foundation of the Poem , as the Principle that gives Life and Motion to all its parts , and sets all its Faculties on work . We have indeed begun to define the Epopéa by the Definition we gave of the Fable ; for the Fable is a Discourse invented to form Mens Manners by Instructions disguis'd under the Allegories of one single Action .

There are several sorts of Fables , which one may treat after very different ways . The Poet forms his from that which is most excellent in each of these sorts .

There are reckon'd three sorts of Fables . The first fall under the Names of Men and Gods , and are call'd Rational ; the second are only comprised under the Names of Beasts , and derive their Name of Moratoe from the humane Manners , which are attributed to them ; and the last are a Mixture of these two sorts of Personages , and are call'd Mix'd .

The Epick Fables are Rational . Nor do I think that the Liberty Homer has taken of making a Horse speak only once in his Iliad , ought to make this Fable be counted a mix'd one . I should rather reckon this incident among the Machines and Miracles ; as we read in the Roman History it sometimes happen'd , and as we know it did in Balaam's Ass .

Besides , 't was such a common thing in those times to make use of these sorts of Fables , and to bring in brute Beasts , and even Trees speaking : and this Custom was so generally look'd upon as Mark of Learning , a Genius , and Eloquence ; that had Homer us'd it oftner , I do not see how any one could blame this Fable for any Irregularity . But in short , this Custom of making Beasts speak is so little relish'd by these last Ages , that even Homer's Example would not make it excusable in any of our modern Writers .

However 't is , this inconsiderable Incident , which does not hinder but the Epick Fable may be reckon'd among the Rational ones , will not hinder it from being plac'd among the Probable ones ; though this Qualification be not at all necessary for the Fable in general .

In fine , the Action of a Fable may be serious , great , and important , or familiar , low , and vulgar . It may be either perfect or defective ; writ in Verse or Prose ; swell'd to a large Discourse , or express'd in a few Words ; recited by the Author , or represented by the Persons who are the sole Actors in it . And all these different ways make no Alteration in the Essence , and in the Nature of the Fable .

Excepting the Representation , which the Epick Poet leaves the Stage to be Master of , he takes always the most excellent , and the most noble Method . So that the Epick Action is grave , important , compleat , and rehearsed in a long train of Verses .

One may add to this , that there are some Fables which consist less in Action than in Speaking ; as that Fable , for instance , which ridicules the foolish Vanity of those Men , who attribute all the Glory of an Event to themselves , for the producing of which they contributed nothing but their own unprofitable Presence . The Fable represents them under the Allegory of a Fly , which lighting upon a Chariot , and seeing her self in the midst of a Cloud of Dust , which the Chariot-Wheels and the Horse-Feet raised in the Air , cries out ; O Gemini ! What a Dust do I make ? The Epick is not of this sort of Fables , but of those which imitate an Action .

These then are the Differences which specifie the Epick Fable , and distinguish it from all others . It is Rational and Probable ; it imitates an Action that is compleat and important ; it is long and rehears'd in Verse ; but neither of these Properties change its Nature , nor make it less a Fable , than those which are publish'd in Aesop's Name .

So much for the Sorts and Differences of the Epick Fable , now for its Parts .

* * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Aristotle says , that the Fable is a Composition of several Things . And in truth two Things do compose it , which are as it were its two essential Parts . The one is Truth , which serves as a Foundation to it ; and the other is Fiction , which Allegorically disguises this Truth , and gives it the Form of a Fable .

The Truth lies conceal'd ; and is that piece of Morality the Poet would teach us . The Romans made use of this very Expression , when they said to † † Vel qui Praetextas , vel qui docuere Togatas . Hor. Poet. Teach Fables and Tragedies , instead of saying to Act and Represent them . The Fiction is the Action or the Words , whereby these Instruction are veil'd . In the Instance we just now propos'd , the Truth is this , that it is ridiculous to brag of any thing we have no hand in : and the Fiction is that pleasant Thought of a Fly riding upon a Chariot , and crying , Bless me ! what a Dust do I make ?

The Truth lies under no Difficulty here , since the Moral Instruction ought always to be true .

But suppose the imitated Action be taken out of History , would this pass for a Fiction ? The Difficulty is the same , if it be taken from a Fable that is already known , since after this manner , the Poet would at little invent and feign it , as if he had found it in History : And yet if the Author feigns nothing , we may well dispute with him the Name of Poet.

To this we answer , that the Poet ought to feign one General Action ; then he should look for the Names of some Persons ( to whom a parallel Action has either truly or probably happen'd ) in History , or some well-known Fables : And lastly , he ought to place his Action under these Names . Thus it will be really feign'd and invented by the Author , and yet will seem to be taken out of some very ancient History and Fable . This we shall explain by what follows : we will begin to do so by the Instance of a Fable compos'd after this Method .

CHAP. VII . The Method of Composing a Fable .

THE first thing we are to begin with for Composing a Fable , is to chuse the Instruction , and the point of Morality , which is to serve as its Foundation , according to the Design and End we propose to our selves .

I would , for Instance , exhort two Brothers , or any other Persons , who hold an Estate in Common , to agree well together , the better to preserve it : And this is the End of the Fable , and the first thing I thought on .

For this purpose I endeavour to imprint upon their Minds this Maxim ; That a Misunderstanding between Friends is the ruin of Families , and of all sorts of Societies . This Maxim which I make choice of , is the Point of Morality , and the Truth which serves as a Foundation to the Fable I would compose .

In the next place this Moral Truth must be reduc'd into Action , and a general Action must be feign'd in Imitation of the true and singular Actions of those who have been ruin'd by a Misunderstanding that has happen'd among them . I say then , that several Persons were engaged together to look after an Estate , which they hold in Common . They fall out with one another , and this Difference leaves them defenceless to the Will of an Enemy who ruins them .

This is the first Platform of a Fable . The Action , which this Recital presents us with , has four Qualifications : it is Vniversal , it is Imitated , it is Feign'd , and it contains Allegorically , a Moral Truth . This Model then comprehends the two Essential Parts which compose the Fable , viz. the Truth and the Fiction . All this is common to all sorts of Fables .

The Names that are given to the Personages do first specifie a Fable . Aesop gives them the Names of Beasts . Once upon a time ( says he ) two Dogs were set to keep a Flock of Sheep , they fight with one another , and leave the Sheep without Defence to the Mercy of the Wolf , that commits what Ravage he pleases among them . These Names are the meanest of any . The Action is still General , and the Fiction is altogether apparent .

We may disguise the Fiction , render the Action more singular , and make it a Rational Fable by the Names of Men invented at Pleasure . Pridamant and Orontes , two Brothers by a second Marriage , were left very rich by their Father's last Will and Testament . They could not agree in sharing their Estates , and were so obstinately bent one against the other , that to provide for their common Interest against Clitander ( their elder Brother by a former Marriage ) was the very least of their care . He very dextrously foments their Quarrel , and keeps them from minding the Design he has upon them , by pretending he expected nothing but a small Gratuity by the Accommodations , which he daily proposes , but never urges home to them . In the mean time he gains upon the Judges , and all others , who were intrusted with this Affair ; he procures the Will to be cancell'd , and becomes Master of all that Estate he pretended he would have gratified his Brothers with , though to his own prejudice .

This Fable is a Rational and Probable Fable ; but because the Names are feign'd as well as the Things , and the Action is only particular , and the Families ordinary , it is neither an Epick nor Tragick Fable ; and can only be manag'd in Comedy . For * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 9. Aristotle informs us , That Comick Poets invent both the Names and the Things .

In order to make this an Alamode Comick Fable , some Girl or another should have been promised to Clitander ; but the Will should have put the Father upon altering his Design , and he should have oblig'd her to have married one of these two rich Coxcombs , for whom she had not the least Fancy . And here the Comical Part might have been carried on very regularly even as the Poet pleas'd . But to return .

The Fiction might be so disguis'd under the Truth of History , that those who are ignorant of the Poet's Art would believe that he had made no Fiction . But the better to carry on this Disguise , search must be made in History for the Names of some Persons to whom this feign'd Action might either Probably or Really have happen'd ; and then must the Action be rehears'd under these known Names , with such Circumstances as alter nothing of the Essence either of the Fable or the Moral : as in the following Example .

In the War King Philip the Fair had with the Flemings in the Year 1302 , he sent out his Army under the Command of Robert Earl of Artois his General , and Ralph of Nesle his Constable . When they were in the Plain of Courtray in sight of the Enemy , the Constable says , 'T was so easie to starve them , that it would be advisable not to hazard the Lives of so many brave Men against such vile and despicable Fellows . The Earl very haughtily rejects this Advice , charging him with Cowardice and Treachery . We will see , replies the Constable in a rage , which of us has the most Loyalty and Bravery : and with that away he rides directly towards the Enemy , drawing all the French Cavalry after him . This Precipitation , and the Dust they rais'd , hinder'd them from discovering a large and deep River , beyond which the Flemings were posted . The French were miserably cast away in the Torrent . At this Loss the Infantry were so startled , that they suffer'd themselves to be cut in pieces by the Enemy .

'T is by this means that the Fiction may have some Agreement with the Truth it self , and the Precepts of the Art do not contradict one another , though they order us to begin by feigning an Action , and then advise us to draw it from History . As for the Fiction and Fable , it signifies little whether the Persons are Dogs , or Oronics and Pridamont , or Robert d'Artois and the Earl of Nesle , or lastly Achilles and Agamemnon .

'T is time we should now propose it in its just Extent under the two last Names in the Iliad . It is too narrow for an Epopéa under the former Names .

CHAP. VIII . Of the Fable of the Iliad .

THE Fable of the Iliad , at the bottom , is nothing else but that which I just now propos'd . I will treat of it here at large , because I cannot give you a greater light into this Doctrine , than by the Practice of Homer . 'T is the most exact Model of the Epopéa , and the most useful Abridgment of all the Precepts of this Art ; since in truth , Aristotle himself has extracted them out of the Works of this great Poet.

In every thing which a Man undertakes with Design , the End he proposes to himself is always the first thing which occurs in his Mind , and upon which he grounds the whole Work , and all its parts . Thus , since the Epick Poem was invented to form the Manners of Men , 't is by this first View the Poet ought to begin .

The School-men treat of Vertues and Vices in general . The Instructions they give are proper for all sorts of People , and for all Ages . But the Poet has a nearer Regard to his own Country , and the Necessities he sees his own Nation lie under . 'T is upon this account that he makes choice of some piece of Morality , the most proper and fittest he can imagine : and in order to press this home , he makes less use of Reasoning , than of the force of Insinuation ; accommodating himself to the particular Customs and Inclinations of his Audience , and to those which in the general ought to be commended in them . Let us now see how Homer has acquitted himself in all these Respects .

He saw the Grecians , for whom he design'd his Poem , were divided into as many States as they had Capital Cities . Each was a Body Politick , and had its Form of Government independent from all the rest . And yet these distinct States were very often oblig'd to unite together in one Body against their common Enemies . And here we have two very different sorts of Government , such as cannot be very well comprehended in one Body of Morality , and in one single Poem .

The Poet then has made two distinct Fables of them . The One is for all Greece united into one Body , but compos'd of Parts independent on one another , as they in truth were : and the Other is for each particular State , consider'd as they were in time of Peace , without the former Circumstances , and the necessity of being united .

As for the first sort of Government observable in the Union or rather in the Assembling of many Independent States : Experience has always made it appear , That there is nothing like a due Subordination , and a right Understanding between Persons to make the Designs that are form'd and carried on by several Generals to prosper . And on the other hand , an universal Misunderstanding , the Ambition of a General , and the Under-Officers refusing to submit , have always been the infallible and inevitable Bane of these Confederacies . All sorts of States , and in particular the Grecians , have dearly experienc'd this Truth . So that the most useful and the most necessary Instructions that could be given them , was , to lay before their Eyes the Loss which both the People and the Princes themselves suffer'd by the Ambition and Discord of these last .

Homer then has taken for the Foundation of his Fable this great Truth ; viz. That a Misunderstanding between Princes is the Ruin of their own States . I sing ( says he ) the Anger of Achilles , so pernicious to the Grecians , and the Cause of so many Heroes Deaths , occasion'd by the Discord and Parting of Agamemnon and this Prince .

But that this Truth may be compleatly and fully known , there is need of a second to back it . For it may be question'd , whether the ill Consequences which succeed a Quarrel were caused by that Quarrel ; and whether a right Understanding does re-adjust those Affairs which Discord has put out of Order : that is to say , these Assembled States must be represented first as labouring under a Misunderstanding , and the ill Consequences thereof ; and then as United and Victorious .

Let us now see how he has dispos'd of these Things in one General Action .

Several Princes , independant on one another , were united against a Common Enemy . He , whom they had Elected their General , offers an Affront to the most Valiant of all the Confederates . This offended Prince was so far provok'd , that he withdrew himself , and obstinately refused to fight for the Common Cause . This Misunderstanding gives the Enemy so much Advantage , that the Confederates are very near quitting their Design very dishonourably . He himself who is withdrawn is not exempt from sharing in the Misfortunes he brought upon his Allies . For having permitted his intimate Friend to succour them in a great Necessity , this Friend is kill'd by the Enemies General . Thus being both made wiser at their own Cost , are reconcil'd . And then this Valiant Prince gets the Victory , and revenges his own Wrongs by killing with his own hands him who had been the Death of his Friend .

This is the first Platform of the Poem , and the Fiction , which reduces into one important and universal Action , all the Particulars upon which it turns .

In the next place it must be render'd Probable by the Circumstances of Times , Places , and Persons ; that is to say , If we would come up to the Precepts of our Masters , we must seek for some Persons already known by History , or other ways , by whom we may with Probability represent the Personages of this Fable . Homer has made choice of the Siege of Troy , and feign'd that this Action happen'd there . He has given the Name of Achilles to a valiant and angry Phantom ; that of Agamemnon to his General , that of Hector to the Enemies Commander , and others to the rest , as is to be seen in his Poem .

Besides , he was oblig'd to accommodate himself to the Manners , Customs , and Genius of the Greeks his Auditors , the better to make them attend to the Instruction of his Poem , and to gain their Approbation by praising them , as far as the Faults he must of necessity make his Personages fall into , would admit . He admirably discharges all the Duties , by making these Brave Princes , and those Victorious People , to be Grecians , and the Fathers of those he had a Mind to Commend .

But in that Length and Extent which is given to these Fables , if we would not stuff up the rest with useless Ornaments and foreign Incidents , we must do something else besides proposing the principal point of Morality that is made use of . We must extend this Moral by its necessary Consequences : as for instance , in the Subject before us , 't is not enough to know , that a good Understanding ought always to be maintain'd among Confederates : 't is likewise very material to know , that if there happens any Division , great Care is to be taken , that it be kept from the Enemies Knowledge , that so they being ignorant of this Advantage , may not venture to make use of it .

In the second place , when this Concord is but counterfeit , and only in appearance , one should never press the Enemy too closely , nor oblige them to make use of all their Forces : for this would discover the Weakness that ought to be concealed from them .

The Episode of Patroclus does even to Admiration furnish us with these two Instructions . For when he appear'd in the Arms of Achilles , the Trojans , who took him for Achilles himself , now reconciled and re-united to the Confederates , gave ground , and quitted the Advantages they had over the Greeks . But Patroclus , who should have been contented with this Success , presses upon Hector too boldly , and by obliging him to fight , discovers that it was not the true Achilles that was clad in his Armour , but a much more feeble Hero . So that Hector kills him , and re-gains the Advantages which the Trojans had lost upon the Conceit that Achilles was reconcil'd .

'T is by such sort of Fictions that this great Poet has fill'd his Poem with Instructions so excellent for their Design , and whereby he has merited those Praises which Aristotle , Horace , and all the Ancients have bestow'd upon him .

CHAP. IX . A Comparison of the Fable of the Iliad , with that of Aesop .

THE better to make it appear that an Epopéa is a true Fable ; and that this Term we give it is not Metaphorical or Figurative , but Proper and Natural ; and that the Sense is the same , as when we give the Name of Fables to the Fictions of Aesop : I shall here draw a Parallel between the Fable of the Iliad , and that of Aesop , which I have already mention'd .

First then I say , that the Moral Truth and Instruction is apparently the same in both . Aesop and Homer would have us learn , that a misunderstanding between those of the same Party , exposes them to the Insults of their Enemies , and their own Ruin : and that Concord preserves and renders them Victorious .

The Fiction is likewise the same . Both have feign'd a Confederacy of several Persons together , for the Maintenance and Defence of their Interest against the Common Enemy . Again , both have feign'd some disturbance that happen'd at first in this Union ; and that those who quarrell'd met with an equal share of misfortune . Lastly , both have restor'd to the Party of these United Persons , the Concord and Victory which was the consequence of their Re-union .

There 's nothing remains now but to give Names to those feign'd Persons . As for the Nature of the Fable , it matters little whether the Names of Beasts or of Men be made use of . Homer has made choice of these last ; and has given the Quality of Kings to his Personages . He has call'd them Achilles , Agamemnon , Hector , Patroclus , and has expressed by the name of Grecians , that Interest which the Confederates were obliged to maintain . Aesop in his way , has given the Names of Beasts to all his Personages : The Dogs are the Confederates , the Wolf is their Enemy , and he has called the Sheep , what the Poet has term'd the Grecians .

One says , That whilst the * * Delirant reges plectuntur achivi . Hor. Ep. 2. ad Loll. Confederate Kings quarrell'd , Hector their Enemy makes havock of the poor Grecians , who pay dearly for the Folly of their Princes ; and when the Allies , mov'd with their Loss , were Reunited , they put Hector to flight and kill him .

The other says the very same , That whilst the Dogs did bite and tear one another , the Wolf broke in upon the Sheep : and when the Dogs , seeing the ravage of this Enemy , were good Friends again , they made him fly for it , and killed him .

The Fable of Homer is a Rational one , and that of Aesop is not . But this is no reason why one is more or less a Fable than the other . † † Fabula quae Paridis narratur propter Amorem Graecia Barbariae lento collisa ducllo . Ibid. Horace calls the Iliad a Fable , tho' the Names are Human ; just as the Stories of Aesop are call'd Fables under the Names of Dogs , Lyons , Jupiter , The Frogs , and the like .

Homer has stretch'd out his Fable by long Harangues , by Descriptions , by Similitudes , and by particular Actions : In like manner , might one amplify that of Aesop without spoiling it . One need only relate what provok'd these Dogs to quarrel , and to describe the rise of their Anger with all its Circumstances : To make fine Descriptions of the Plain where the Sheep were feeding , and of some neighbouring Forest , which serv'd the Wolf for a shelter and Retreat : To give this Enemy some little Cubs to breed up , to make them follow their Sire in the Quest of their Prey , and to describe the Booty they take at several times

One should not likewise omit the Genealogy of these Heroes . The Wolf should boast of his Descent from Lycaon ; and one of the Dogs should have issu'd in a direct line from the great Celestial Dog , and the Canicula . This should be the Hero of the Poem , for he would be very hot and Cholerick . He would do well to represent the Personage of Achilles ; and the Folly of a certain Ajax his Kinsman , would be a handsom Proof of this Nobility , and of an Origin so Divine as that is . There is no need of any thing farther to engage Heaven in this Quarrel , and to divide the Gods into Parties . For the Gods have as much to do in the Republick of Aesop , as in the States of Homer ; witness Jupiter , who was so far concern'd as to appoint Kings over the Common-wealth of the Frogs .

And here we have matter enough to give this Subject a very large extent , provided we have Expressions to answer it , and take care to insert as often * * Edita ne brevibus pereat mihi charta libellis , Dicatur potius , 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Martial . L. 1. as Homer has : 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 .

For this fine Epithet for a Dog , 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 , a Fleet-runner , ought by no means to be omitted .

In short , Homer does likewise resemble Aesop , in that he as well as the other had a great mind to make the Beasts speak in the person of Xanthus the Horse of Achilles .

We conclude then , that the Name of Fable which is given to the Fable of the Iliad , and that of Aesop , is neither Equivocal nor Analogous , but Synonymous and equally Proper ; that all the Qualities which make any difference between them , do by no means affect either the Foundation , the Nature , or the Essence of the Fable , but only constitute the different sorts of it ; and lastly , that if a Fable be Rational , Probable , Serious , Important , mix'd with Divinities , Amplified and Rehears'd in Verse , it will be an Epick Poem : If it has not these Conditions , it will be another kind of Fable .

CHAP. X. The Fable of the Odyssëis .

THE Odyssëis was not design'd as the Iliad , to instruct all the States of Greece join'd and confederated in one Body , but for each State in particular . A State is compos'd of two parts ; The Head which commands is the first , and the Members which obey make up the other . There are Instructions requisite for the Governour , and some likewise necessary for the Subjects : for him to rule well , and for them to be rul'd by him .

There are two Vertues necessary to one in Authority ; Prudence to order , and Care to put in Execution the Orders he has given . The Prudence of a Politician is not acquir'd but by a long experience in all sorts of Business , and by an Acquaintance with all the different Forms of Governments and States . The Care of the Execution suffers not him that has order'd it , to rely upon others , but it requires his own Presence ; and Kings who are absent from their States are in danger of losing them , and give way to great disorders .

These two Points might be easily united in one and the same Man . * * Dic mihi Musa virum captae post tempora Trojae , Qui Mores hominum multorum vidit & urbes . Hor. Poet. A King absent from his Kingdom visits the Courts of several Princes , where he learns the Customs of different Nations . From hence there naturally arises a vast number of Incidents , of Dangers , and of Passages , that are very useful for a Political Instruction : And on the other side , this absence gives way to the disorders which happen in his own Kingdom , and which end not till his return , whose sole Presence can re-establish all things . Thus the Absence of a King is the same , and has the same effect in this Fable , as the Division had in the former .

The Subjects have scarce any need but of one general Maxim , which is to suffer themselves to be govern'd by , and to obey faithfully some Reason or other which seems to them contrary to the Orders they have received . It were easie to join this to what we have already said , by bestowing on this Wise and Industrious Prince such Subjects , as in his absence would obey , not the Orders they receiv'd , but what appear'd to them more reasonable : And by demonstrating from the Misfortunes this Disobedience draws upon them , the Evil Consequences which almost infallibly attend these particular Conducts , which are distinct from the general Notion of him who ought to Govern.

But as 't is necessary that the Princes in the * Iliad should be Cholerick and Quarrelsome : † † Ira quidem communiter urit utrumque . Hor. So 't is necessary in the Fable of the Odysseis that the chief Personage should be . Sage , and Prudent . This raises a difficulty in the Fiction ; because this Personage ought to be absent for the two reasons aforemention'd , which are Essential to the Fable ; and which constitute the principal part thereof : But he cannot be absent from his own home without offending against another Maxim of equal importance ; viz. That a King should never leave his own Country .

It is true , there are sometimes such necessities as sufficiently excuse the Prudence of a Politician : But such a necessity is a thing important enough to supply matter for another Poem , and this multiplication of the Action would have been Vicious . To prevent this , first this necessity and the departure of the Hero must be disjoin'd from the Poem : And in the second place , the Hero having been oblig'd to absent himself for a Reason antecedent to the Action , and distinct from the Fable ; he ought not to embrace this opportunity of instructing himself , and so absent himself voluntarily from his own Government . For at this rate , his absence would have been still voluntary , and one might with reason lay to his Charge , the disorders which might have happen'd thereon .

Thus in the constitution of the Fable , the Poet ought not to take for his Action , and for the Foundation of his Poem , the Departure of a Prince from his own Country , nor his voluntary stay in any other Place ; but his Return , and this Return hinder'd against his Will. This is the first Idea the Poet gives us of it . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Calyss . 5. His Hero appears at first in a desolate Island , sitting upon the side of the Sea , which with Tears in his Eyes he looks upon as the obstacle , that had hinder's him so long from returning home , and visiting his own dear Country .

And lastly , since this forc'd delay has something in it that is most Natural and usual to such as make Voyages by Sea : Homer has judiciously made choice of a Prince whose Kingdom was in an Island .

We see then how he has feign'd all this Action , allowing his Hero a great many Years , because he stood in need of so many to instruct himself in Prudence and Policy .

A Prince had been oblig'd to forsake his Native Country , and to head an Army of his Subjects in a Foreign Expedition . Having gloriously perform'd this Enterprize , he was for marching home again , and thither would have conducted his Subjects . But spite of all the attempts , which his eagerness to return home again put him upon , There are Tempests which stop him by the way for several Years together , and cast him upon several Countries very different from one another as to their Manners and Government . In the dangers he was in , his Companions , not always following his Orders , perish'd through their own fault . The Grandees of his Country do very strangely abuse his absence , and raise no small disorders at home . They consume his Estate , conspire to make away with his Son , would constrain his Queen to chose one of them for her Husband , and indulge themselves in all these Violences so much the more , because they were perswaded he would never return . But at last he returns , and discovering himself to his Son and some others , who had continu'd Loyal to him , he is an Eye-witness of the Insolence of his Enemies , punishes them according to their deserts , and restores to his Island that Tranquility and Repose , which they had been strangers to during his absence .

As the Truth , which serves as a Foundation to this Fiction , and which with it makes the Fable , is , That the absence of a Person from his own Home , or who has not an Eye to what is done there , is the cause of great disorders : So the principal Action , and the most Essential one , is the absence of the Hero . This fills almost all the Poem : For not only this bodily absence lasted several Years , but even when the Hero return'd , he does not discover himself ; and this prudent disguise , from whence he reap'd so much advantage , has the same effect upon the Authors of the Disorders , and all others who knew him not , as his real absence had ; so that he is absent as to them , till the very moment he punish'd them .

After the Poet had thus compos'd his Fable , and join'd the Fiction to the Truth , he then makes choice of Vlysses , the King of the Isle of Ithaca , to maintain the Character of his chief Personage , and bestow'd the rest upon Telemachus , Penelope , Antinous , and others , whom he calls by what names he pleases .

I shall not here insist upon the many excellent Advices , which are as so many parts , and natural Consequences of the Fundamental Truth ; and which the Poet very dexterously lays down in those Fictions , which are the Episodes and Members of the entire Action , such for instance are these Advices : Not to intrude ones self into the Mysteries of Government , which the Prince keeps secret to himself , This is represented to us by the Winds shut up in a Bull-hide , which the miserable Companions of Vlysses must needs be so foolish as to pry into : Not to suffer ones self to be lead away by the seeming Charms of an idle and lazy life , to which the * * Improba Siren desidia . Hor. Sirens Songs invite Men : Not to suffer ones self to be sensualiz'd by pleasures , like those who were chang'd into Brutes by Circe : And a great many other points of Morality necessary for all sorts of People .

This Poem is more useful to the Vulgar , than the Iliad is , where the Subjects suffer rather by the ill Conduct of their Princes , than through their own fault . But in the Odysseïs , 't is not the Fault of Vlysses that is the ruin of his Subjects . This wise Prince did all he could to make them sharers in the Benefit of his Return . Thus the Poet in the Iliad says , He sings the Anger of Achilles , which had caus'd the Death of so many Grecians ; and on the contrary , in the ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Odyss. 1. Odysseïs he tells his Readers , That the Subjects perish'd through their own fault .

Notwithstanding it is to be confess'd , that these great Names of Kings , Hero's , Achilles , Agamemnon , and Vlysses , do no less denote the meanest Burghers , than they do the Caesars , the Pompeys , and the Alexanders of the Age. The Commonalty are as subject as the Grandees , to lose their Estates , and ruin their Families by Anger and Divisions , by negligence and want of taking care of their business . They stand in as much need of Homer's Lessons , as Kings ; they are as capable of profiting thereby ; and 't is as well for the Small as the Great , that the Morality of the Schools , that of the Fable , and that of the Chair deliver those Truths we have been just speaking of .

CHAP. XI . Of the Fable of the Aeneid .

IN the Fable of the Aeneid we are not to expect that simplicity , which Aristotle esteem'd so Divine in Homer . But tho' the Fortune of the Roman Empire envied the Poet this Glory , yet the vast extent of the Matter it furnishes him with , starts up such difficulties as require more Spirit and Conduct , and has put us upon saying that there is something in the Aeneid more Noble than in the Iliad These very difficulties we are to solve , and they call upon us for our utmost care and attention .

There was a great deal of difference between the Greeks and the Romans . These last were under no obligation , as were the former , either of living in separated and independent States ; or of frequent confederating together against the common Enemy . If in this respect , we would compare our two Poets together , Virgil had but one Poem to make , and this ought to be more like the Odysseïs than the Iliad , since the Roman State was govern'd by only one Prince .

But ( without mentioning the Inconveniences the Latin Poet might meet with in forming a Fable upon the same Foundation , which the Greek had laid before him ) the Roman State furnish'd him with Matter different enough to help him to avoid treading in the footsteps of him that went before him , and to preserve to him the glory of a primary invention . Homer in the Odysseïs spoke only for States already establish'd , and the Roman Empire was but of a new date . It was the change of a Commonwealth ( to which Caesar's Subjects had been always extreamly biggoted ) into a Monarchy , which till then they could never endure . Thus , the Instructions , which the Poet ought to give both to Prince and People , were quite different from those Homer left his Countrymen .

He ought to instruct Augustus as the Founder of a great Empire , and to inspire into him as well as his Successors , the same Spirit and Conduct which had rais'd this Empire to such a Grandeur . A very expert Roman , and a great Politician ( no less than * * Eventus bellorum erant aut mites , aut necessarii , &c. Cic. 2. de offic . Cicero himself ) informs us , That good Humour and Humanity was so far Essential to this State , that it was predominant even in the very midst of War ; and that nothing but an absolute Necessity could put a stop to its good effects . And he adds , That when this Conduct was lost , and this Genius , which gave life to the State , was gone , there was nothing left but bare Walls , and what in propriety of Speech might be term'd a dead Carcase . In short , he shews the Advantages which a mild and moderate Government has over a cruel and severe Conduct , which inspires Men with nothing but a slavish fear .

This then is the Instruction Virgil would give the Roman Emperors , who began in the Person of Augustus to be settled upon the Throne . This Instruction has two parts , as each of Homer's had . The first comprehends the Misfortunes which attend a Tyrannical and Violent Reign : And the second the Happiness , which is the Consequence of a mild Government . Homer has plac'd both the parts of each Fable in one and the same Person , Achilles at first is at variance with the Confederates , and afterwards is reconcil'd to them : Vlysses is absent from home , and at last returns thither : and in all this there is nothing of difficulty . But Virgil could not represent in one and the same Person , a Hero , who by his Violence and Impiety was the Ruin of his Country ; and who afterwards by his Piety and Justice , restor'd it to its former Glory . This inequality of Manners and Conduct would have been intolerable , and especially in that Brevity , which the Recital of an Epick Poem requires ; besides , such a sudden change is never to be rely'd on ; Men would think it Hypocritical , and fear a very quick return of the old Tyranny . The Poet then is oblig'd to make use of two different Personages , to maintain the two parts of his exemplary instruction .

Besides , several weighty Reasons did indispensibly oblige him to put Humanity and Good-Nature in the Manners of his Hero , and to make Piety his predominant Quality , and the very Soul of all his Vertues . One of these great Reasons is the desire and necessity he lay under of pleasing his chief Auditor , who alone was more considerable than all the rest . Augustus Caesar did nothing to settle himself upon the Throne , but what his Piety put him upon undertaking ; or at least he had a mind the World should think so . This is the Judgment which the most Prudent past upon him , even after he was dead , when he was no longer the subject of Mens Flatteries , or their Fear . This * * Apud prudentes vita ejus variè extollebatur , arguebatúrve . Hi Pietate erga parentem & necessitudine Reip. in qua nullus tunc legibus locus , ad bella Civilia actum : Pauca admodum vitractata , quo caeteris quies esset . Dicebatur contra : Pietatem erga Parentem , & tempora Reipub. obtentui sumpta . Hist. Lib. 1. Cornelius Tacitus informs us of .

The Reasons why the Poet spoke thus of the new Establishment , were owing to the Subjects of Augustus , who made up the other part of the Audience ; and the second Object of his Morality . He was oblig'd to make them lay aside the old Antipathy they had to Monarchy , to convince them of the Justice , and the legal Prerogative of Augustus , to divert them from so much desiring to oppose his designs , and to raise in them a Love and Veneration for this Prince .

Religion has always had a most powerful influence over the minds of the Vulgar . The first Roman Kings , and the new Emperors , made use thereof , by joyning the Sacerdotal to the Regal Office . The Poet likewise us'd his utmost care in searching for all the Advantages he could derive from thence , by making it the chief Foundation of his whole design . He makes it appear , That the great Revolutions , which happen in States , are brought about by the appointment and will of God : That those who oppose them are Impious , and have been punish'd according to their Demerits , For Heaven never fails to protect the Heroes it makes choice of , to carry on and execute its great designs . This Maxim serves for the Foundation of the Aeneid ; and is that first part of the Fable which we call the Truth .

Besides , the Poet was oblig'd to represent his Hero free from all manner of Violence , and elected King by brave and generous People , who thought it an Honour to obey him , tho' they might lawfully have been their own Soveraigns , and have chosen what form of Government they pleas'd . In short it was requisite that the Justice of his Cause , like that of Augustus , should have been grounded upon the Rights of War .

In a word , the Hero should have been like Augustus , a New Monarch , the Founder of an Empire , a Lawgiver , a Pontifex , and a great Commander .

The necessity of reducing all these things into one Body , and under the Allegories of a single Action , makes it appear how great a difference there is between the designs of Homer , and that of Virgil : And that if the Latin Poet did imitate the Greek , yet the applicaaion of it is so remote and difficult , that it should never make his Poem pass for a new Copy , nor rob him of the glory of the invention .

Let us see then the Collection which Virgil has made of all these Matters ; and the general Fiction , which together with the Truths it disguises , makes up the Fable and Life of the Poem .

The Gods preserve a Prince amidst the Ruin of a mighty State , and make choice of him to be the maintainer of their Religion , and the Establisher of a more great and glorious Empire than the first . This very Hero is likewise elected King by the general consent of those , who had escap'd the universal Wrack of that Kingdom . He conducts them through Territories from whence his Ancestors came , and by the way instructed himself in all that was necessary for a King , a Priest , and the Founder of a Monarchy . He arrives and likewise finds in this new Country , the Gods and Men dispos'd to entertain him , and to allow him Subjects and Territories . But a neighbouring Prince , blinded by Ambition and Jealousie , could not see the Justice and the Orders of Heaven , but opposes his Establishment , and is assisted by the Valour of a King , whose Cruelty and Impiety had divested him of his States . This opposition , and the War this pious stranger was * * Testaturque Deos iterum se ad praelia cogi . Aeneid . lib. 12. forc'd to , renders his establishment more just by the Right of Conquest , and more glorious by the overcoming and cutting off of his Enemies .

The model being thus fram'd , there was nothing wanting but to look into History , or into some Authentick Fables , for Hero's whose Names he might borrow , and whom he might engage to represent his Personages . The obligation he lay under of accommodating himself to the Manners and Religion of his Country , invited him to look after them in the Roman History . But what Action could he take thence , which might furnish him with a Revolution and Establishment of Government , that was proper to his purpose ? Brutus had expelled the Kings , and placed the People in that which they then called their Liberty : But this Name was Odious and Prejudicial to Augustus ; and this Action was quite opposite to the Design which the Poet had of confirming the Re-establishment of Monarchy . Romulus first founded Rome , but he laid the Walls thereof in his Brother's Blood ; and his first Action was the Murder of his Uncle Amulius , for which none could ever find a satisfactory excuse : And then , it was very difficult to suppose these Heroes to have taken Voyages .

Besides , these two Establishments were made before the Destruction of the States which preceded them , and were the cause of their ruin . The Kingdom of Alba flourish'd during the Reign of the two first Roman Kings , but was erased by the Third : And Monarchy was extirpated by Brutus , and his Successors in the Consul-ship . It was of dangerous Consequence , to instil this Notion into the Subjects of Augustus , and to put the People upon thinking , that this Prince had ruined the Commonwealth , and banished their Liberty . The Truth of History furnished him with a thought more favourable to his design ; since in reality Cicero and Tacitus do both inform us , That before this Prince made the least shew of what he was about to do , there was no Commonwealth in being . All the vigour of the Empire was spent , the Laws were invalid , the Romans were nothing else but the Dregs of a State ; and in short , there was nothing left of Rome but bare Walls , which were not able to last much longer . Thus Augustus destroyed nothing , he only re-established a tottering State . This is what the † † Iliaci cineres & Flamma extrema meorum , Testor in occasu vestro , nec tela , nec ullas Vitavisse vices Danaum , & sifata , suissent , Ut caderem , meruisse manu . Virg. 2. Aeneid . Poet is to prove , a great Empire ruin'd , of which his Hero was in no fault ; and this very Empire more gloriously re-established by the Virtue , and the good Conduct of the Hero .

In the Roman History , Virgil did not meet with a Prince , who could with any probability keep up the Character of his chief Personage ; he was obliged to look out for one some where else . Homer had this Advantage , that the Heroes of his Fables were Greeks , and that his own Country was the Theatre whereon most of the Fabulous Actions were transacted : So that he had liberty enough to accommodate himself to the Manners and Religion of those for whom he wrote .

But the Genius and Skill of the Latin Poet helped him to that which Fortune denied him . He took * * Rectius Iliaci Carmen deducis in actus , Quam si praeferres ignota indictaque primus . Poet. Horace's Advice , and had recourse to a Hero of the Iliad : And that he might make this stranger conform to the Religion of the Romans , he has feign'd , that the Hero came thither to bring into Italy all the Ceremonies , and to settle these Gods there , which ever since they have observ'd and ador'd . He has very luckily compleated this Conformity in ‡ the Customs and Manners by making † Sermonem Ausonii patrium moresque tenebunt . Aeneid . 12. the Trojans and Romans but one People . And he as well as Homer has caused that his Illustrious Heroes should be the Fathers of his Auditors ; but with this Advantage , that he himself makes the Application of it to his Readers , with an equal measure of Wit and Applause .

Aeneas is his chief Personage , Turnus is Aeneas's Rival , and in Mezentius one may observe the Cruelty of a Tyrant , who is at Enmity with both Gods and Men.

To conclude : The Arrival of Aeneas into Italy , was not invented by the Poet , but handed down by Tradition . † † Segesta est oppidum pervetus in Siciliâ , quod ab Aeneâ fugiente à Trojâ , atque in haec loca veniente , conditum esse demonstrant . Cicer. in Verrem , iv . Cicero , who wrote before Virgil , speaks thereof in his Speech against Verres upon the account of the City of Segesta . Its Inhabitants gave out that 't was built by Aeneas , when in his Voyage to Italy , he staid for some time on the Coast of Sicily .

CHAP. XII . Horace ' s Thoughts of the Epick Fable .

'T IS time now to join Aristotle and Horace to Homer and Virgil , and to see whether the Thoughts and Precepts of our two Masters about the Nature of the Epick Fable agree with the Practice of our two Poets . We will begin with Horace .

As for the Word Fable there is no difficulty in it ; he gives it to the * * Neve minor quinto , neu fit productior actu Fabula . Hor. Poet. Dramatick , he gives it to the Epick Poem , and in plain Terms calls the † † Fabula quae Paridis nartatur propter amorem Graecia Barbariae lento collisa ducllo . Epist. ad Loll. Ilida a Fable . The business is to know what he means by this Word , and what in his Opinion the Epick Fable is .

If it be granted that this kind of Fable is of the same Nature with those of Aesop , as we just now observed : Then we cannot say that an Epopéa is the Panegyrick of a Hero ; of whom is rehearsed some illustrious Action or other ; nor that the Epick Fable is only the Disposition of the different Parts of that Action , and of the several Fictions with which 't is garnished .

Three Things may clear up this difficulty : The first is the Choice and Imposition of the Names , which are given to the Personages of the Fable : The second is the Design which the Poet has of teaching Morality under an Allegory : And the third is the Virtue and Excellency of the chief Personage .

The First is most decisive : For if the Action be feigned , and the Fable prepared before the Poet has so much as thought of the Name he is to give to his chief Personage ; without doubt he does not undertake the Elogy of any particular Man . But we do not find that Horace has concerned himself in the business of imposing Names : Therefore we refer this to the following Chapter , where we shall enquire into the Opinion of Aristotle .

The Point about Morality is expresly in Horace . This Critick is entirely for the way I proposed . He says * * Qui quid sit pulchrum quid turpe , quid utile , quid non : Plenius ac melius Chrysippo , & Cantore dicit . Ibid. That Homer lays down admirable Instructions for the Conduct of Humane Life , and herein prefers the Iliad and the Odyssei's to the Writings of the most excellent Philosophers . This is self-evident , and having said as much already , we wave saying any more about it : The Reader may consult his Epistle to Lollius .

But what signifies it ( may some one say ) if Homer had a mind to lay down Instructions of Morality ? This does not himder , but he might have made choice of a Hero whom he might have praised , and this Elogy rightly managed might be a Fable . He was willing then to praise Achilles and Vlysses as Xenophon did his Cyrus . Is not this plainly the Design of Virgil ? And if Homer was less successful , ought we not to pardon the Imperfection of these first Ages , which did not furnish him with those great Ideas of Vertue , and those perfect Heroes which after-Ages did produce ?

The Hero of Virgil is indeed a true Hero in Morality as well as Poetry ; and represents to Kings a compleat Model of all the Vertues which conspire to make a great Prince . This might have given that Idea of the Epick Fable , which we are now examining . For the Aeneid is better read and understood than the Iliad . And Men are easily perswaded , that the Design of these less known Pieces is the same with that which they are so well acquainted with . Besides , this Judgment is backed by that noble Idea Men commonly conceive of the Valour of Achilles , and of the consummated Prudence of Vlysses . These are almost the two only Things which the generality of the World are acquainted with in the Greek Poems : Which may have induced them to believe that the Fables of Homer are the Panegyricks of Achilles and Ulysses .

But if Horace , of whom we now speak , had been of this Mind ; and if he had believed that the Design of an Epick Poem , should be to establish the Merit of a Hero , and to propose him to others as a Model of Perfection ; it necessarily follows , that either this great Critick was not well acquainted with considerable Defects in the Heroes of Homer , or else that he did not think Homer was a good Pattern to imitate .

Yet we see he knew the one , and believed the other . He knew no Vertue in Achilles , nor any Action that deserved Praise . On the contrary , he says , That in all the Iliad , both in the Grecians † † Seditione , dolis , scelere , atque libidine & irà , Iliacos intra muros peccatur & extra . Ibid. Camp , and in the City of Troy , there was nothing to be seen but Sedition , Treachery , Villainy , Lust , and Passion : And he never commends Achilles , neither for his Valour , nor for his killing Hector , nor for any thing else he did against the Trojans .

Yet 't is evident what an esteem he has for Homer ; and that he carped at no Faults of his but * * Quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus . Verum opere in longo fas est obrepere somnum . Hor. Poet. Peccadilloes . He would have every one , that has a mind to be a Poet , † † Vos exemplaria Graeca nocturna versate manu versate diurna . Ibid have Homer before him night and day : And he proposes the Achilles of Homer with all the Vices , and all the Defects he imputes to him , as a great Exemplar for others to follow . ‡ ‡ Scriptor honoratum si fortè reponis Achillem ; Impiger , Iracundus , iners , inexorabilis , acer , &c. Ibid . He would have him be cholerick , inexorable , one who knows nothing of Justice , but has all his Reason at his Sword 's Point .

'T is true , to these Qualities he has joined Vigilancy and Zeal to carry on an Enterprize . But these Qualities being in their own Nature indifferent , have nothing that is good , but in Persons duly accomplished as was Scipio . In wicked Persons they are pernicious Vices , as in Catiline , who made no other use of them but to oppress his Country . 'T is then in this last sence that Horace ascribes them to Achilles , since he would have him be represented , as unjust and passionate .

In † † Rursus quid virtus & quid sapientia possit , Utile proposuit nobis exemplar Ulysses . Ep. ad Loll. Vlysses he did discover an Example of Vertue : But since , in truth , he does equally commend Homer , for giving us in his two Poems an Example of Vertue , and an Example of Vice , should we not conclude , that the good or bad Qualities of the chief Personages , are not at all necessary nor essential to the Epick Fable ; and that Horace never thought the Epopéa was an Elogy of an Hero ?

That which the Iliad and the Odyssei's have in common , is , that each of them is a Moral Instruction disguised under the Allegories of an Action . This is what Horace discovers in them ; and by Consequence each of them , in the Opinion of this Critick , is a Fable , and such a one as we described it .

CHAP. XIII . Aristotle's Thoughts of the Epick Fable .

WHat we have said concerning the Fable , is still more manifest , in the Method and Order which Aristotle prescribes for the preparation of the Ground-work of an Epick Action . He does not bid us to search at first in History for some great Action , and some Heroical Person : But on the contrary , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . he bids us to make a general Action which has nothing in it particular ; to impose Names on the Persons after this first Fiction , and afterwards to form the Episodes .

For the better conceiving of his Mind , we must take notice what he means by a general , what by a particular Action . † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 9. There is this difference ( says he ) between a Poet and an Historian , that the One writes barely Matter of Fact , [ the Other lays down things just as they ought to have been . For this Reason , Poetry is more serious and more philosophical than History ; because Poetry tells us of general Things , and History rehearses singular Things . A general Thing , is that which either probably or necessarily ought to have been said or done ; and is that to which the Poet ought to have a special regard , when he imposes the Names on his Personages . A singular thing is that which Alcibiades , for instance , has either done or suffered .

The Poetical Action then is neither singular nor historical , but general and allegorical : 'T is not what Alcibiades has done , but 't is in general what any one else ought to have done upon the like Occasion .

'T is a material Point to take notice , that a thing must be done after one way or other , for its being either absolutely good , or for its being only probable , no matter whether it be good or bad . Xenophon has feigned the Actions of his Cyrus in the first way ; and so have all the Poets , who in imitation of him have undertaken to describe the Actions of a great Prince panegyrically . On the other hand , the Hecuba of Seneca should not have made such fine Reflections upon the Destruction of Troy , and the Death of Priam. Not but these Reflections in themselves are very just and useful ; but only 't is not probable , that a Woman lying under such a weight of Afflictions , should have such Thoughts , as were only becoming the Tranquility of a great Philosopher , who had no manner of Interest in the History of these ancient Times .

'T is in this last sence , that Aristotle orders Poets to feign their Actions such , as they either probably or necessarily ought to have been . If there still remains any doubt what he means by this Expression , 't is very easie to give an entire solution of it . One need only consider the Instance of an Action that is just , and feigned regularly by the greatest of all the Poets : 'T is that of the Iliad . Without doubt he knew that the Action of Achilles , made choice of by Homer , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Iliad . i. Iratus Graiis quantum nocuisset Achilles ! Horat. is the Anger of this Hero , so pernicious to the Greeks , and not to the Trojans . We will not so much as suppose , that this great Philosopher ever thought , that the Extravagancies of a Man , who sacrifices his Friends and his Country to his own Revenge , was an Action any ways commendable , vertuous , or worthy the imitation of Princes . Certainly it had been more for the Honour of Homer's Country , if he had sung of the War and the taking of Troy . And yet , † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 , &c. Poet. c 23. Aristotle does not only not blame him for forgoing such a glorious Subject , and making choice of a more defective Theme : But he says that herein he has done something that is divine .

He is then perfectly of the same mind with Horace , who would have Achilles represented as cholerick , passionate , and unjust ; just as Homer has made him . But that wherein Aristotle is more instructive than Horace , is his Method of giving Names to the Personages , that are introduced in a Poem . For how could one prepare the Ground-work of a particular Action of some illustrious Hero , that is not feigned ; when one does not so much as know whether the Hero be Achilles , Aeneas , Vlysses , Diomedes , or any other ? And yet this is what Aristotle orders in the Composition of the Epick Fable , when he says , that one should not give Names to Personages till after the Action is invented .

One should indeed do that just before the forming of the Episodes : For if those , whose Names we borrow , have done any known Actions ; the best way is to make use of them , and accommodate these real Circumstances to the Ground-work of the Fable , and to the Design of the Poet ; to fill the Episodes with them ; and to draw from them all the Advantages possible according to the Rules of Art . This management renders the feign'd Action more probable , and may likewise make it look like true History . Besides , Aristotle had said , that the Poet in giving particular Names to Persons , which at first he made general , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . C. 9. should take special care to make his Fiction probable . This Precept is capable of another meaning , which does not at all contradict what has been said , but rather confirms the Doctrine which I proposed : 'T is this , viz. That when you have feigned an Action , if it be mild and moderate , you must not represent the chief Personage thereof under the Name of Achilles , Tydeus , Medea , or any other whose passionate Tempers are well known . In this Doctrine , we shall with Aristotle meet with three sorts of Actions which the Poets make use of . In the first , the Things and the Names of the Persons are singular and true , and not feigned or invented by the Poet. The ‡ ‡ Secuit Lucilius Urbem , Te Lupe , te Muti. Satyrists make use of this sort . In the second , both the Things and the Names are feigned and invented by the Poet ; and this is the Practice of Comedians . We have laid down an Instance thereof in the Fable we made use of under the Names of Orontes , Pridamant , and Clitander . In the third sort , the Things are invented , but the Names are not . They are noted either by History , or by some Tradition or other . This is manifest in the Fable we proposed under the Names of Robert Earl of Artois , and Ralph Count of Nesle . We might say the same of the Iliad , the Odysseïs , and the Aeneid . This sort of Action is proper for Tragedy , and the Epopéa .

Nor need we feign Instances to prove these things , or seek for them in Greece and old Italy ; since we have enough of them nearer home , in the Satyrs , the Comedies , and the Tragedies , which are daily to be seen in the World .

This Doctrine of Aristotle is so important , that it deserves to be consulted in the Original . After he had informed us that the Poetical Action is not singular , but general and universal ; and after he had explained what he means by these Terms , as we observed at the beginning of this Chapter , he then goes on after this manner :

† † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Po. c. 9. This in Comedy is very manifest . For after the Poet has prepared his Fable , upon what is probable , he then gives his Actors what Names he pleases : And he does not as the Satyrists , who speak only of particular Things . But in Tragedy they make use of Names ready made to their hands . This makes us more readily believe the thing to be possible ; for Things that have never yet been done , we are not obliged to think possible : But what has been already done , is without all Dispute possible ; since it would never have been done , had it been impossible . Yet in some Tragedies , there is but one or two known Names , and all the rest are feigned . Nay , in some others there is not one known Name , as in the Tragedy of Agathon , call'd The FLOWER , where all the Names , as well as Things , are feigned and invented . And yet it came off with Applause .

In favour of our Subject 't is , that we cite what Aristotle says in this passage , concerning the Tragick Fable . Nor is this a wresting of the Text , since this great Master lays it down as his first * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . P. c. 32. Precept in the Epopéa , That we ought to prepare the Fable thereof as for Tragedy .

'T is to be observ'd , that to make the thing probable , and to perswade Men of its Possibility , from its having been done already , Aristotle orders us to put the Fable not under a known Action , but only under known Names . This makes good what we before alledged , viz. † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . P. c. 9. That the Poet should think of making his Action probable , when he gives Names to the Actors . This is the practice of those who make Histories of their own Inventions . The better to perswade the World of the Truth of what they say , they name the Places and the Persons ; and the more these Names are known , the more Credit they meet with . Homer has acquitted himself so very handsomely in this Matter , that the Art he had of feigning the best of any Man in the World , is one of the Commendations he deserved from the mouth of * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 24. Aristotle himself .

We conclude then that Homer in his Practice , and Aristotle in his Precepts , are exactly of the same mind ; that Homer had no other Design but to form the Manners of his Country-men , by proposing to them , as Horace says , what was profitable or unprofitable , what was honourable or dishonourable : But that he did not undertake to rehearse any particular Action of Achilles or Vlysses . He made his Fable , and laid the Design of his Poems , without so much as thinking on these Princes ; and afterwards , he did them the Honour to bestow their Names on the Heroes he had feign'd .

In other Histories of the Trojan War we do not indeed read of this Quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon , which Homer has taken for the Subject-Matter of his Iliad : And what is no less considerable is , that this very Design and Action which the Poet has form'd under the name of Achilles at the Siege of Troy , might with the same Probability have went under the Name of Tydeus , Capaneus , or any other at the Siege of Thebes . One might have made Adrastus the General , and given him some occasion of exasperating the cholerick Nature of Capaneus . He , by withdrawing into his Tent only for a few days , might have given the Thebans some Advantages over his Party . Afterwards one might have made this furious Person return to his Duty : and then fighting with the rest , he might have gain'd the Victory to his own side , and reveng'd in one single day , the Affront and Loss they had suffer'd the three or four days before : And this is all we contend for in the Iliad .

The same might be said of Vlysses . All the Adventures we read of him in the Odysseïs , might with altogether as much Probability have been rehears'd under the Name of any other Prince returning from an Expedition . For the better Proof of which , we need only cast an eye upon the Platform which Aristotle himself has left us thereof : and 't is as follows .

* * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Poet. c. 17. A Man is absent from his own home for several Years . Neptune persecutes him , destroys all his Retinue , and only he himself escapes . In the mean time his Family is in disorder , his Estate is made away with by his Wives Suitors , and his Son is plotted against . But at last , after many Storms at Sea , he returns home , discovers himself to his Friends , conceals himself from others , sets all things to rights again , and puts his Enemies to death . This ( concludes Aristotle ) is all that is proper , the Episodes make up the rest . This , in my mind , gives us absolutely such an Idea of a Fable as I proposed : And in this Model Vlysses seems to have as little to do as any other .

But after the Model is pitch'd upon , the Action invented , and the Names given , then if those whose Names are borrow's have done any known Actions , the Poet ought to make use of them , and to accommodate these true Circumstances to his own Design . With these he must fill his Episodes , and from these he should draw all the Advantages possible , according to the Rules of Art . Thus Aristotle gives no Orders for making the Episodes till the Names are pitch'd upon .

He therefore transgresses the Precepts of Aristotle , and the Practice of Homer , and spoils the Essence of the Epick Fable in particular , as well as of other Fables in general , who begins by looking for his Hero in some History or other , and undertakes to rehearse a particular Action this Hero has done , as we see in Silius Italicus , Lucan , Statius , and in the Authors of the Adventures of Hercules and Theseus , which Aristotle takes notice of . They did not make any general or universal Platform without Names , but made it altogether singular . For how could any one write like Silius , without thinking on the particular Action and Name of Hannibal ? Call him as much as you will , in your Platform , a Cortain Man , yet still this Certain Man is determinately Hannibal . You are so far from taking away his Name , that after you have once nam'd him , you afterwards use a Pronoun or some other Word which signifies him , instead of the Term Hannibal , which you are loth to repeat . Thus Aristotle does not order the Names to be taken away ( which can never be done ) but he only orders to feign an Action without Names , to make it at first universal , as he instances in the Odysseïs and Iphigenia .

CHAP. XIV . Of the Real Actions , the Recitals whereof are Fables .

THere is a great deal of Difference between Fiction and a down-right Lye ; and between a Thing 's being Probable , and its being no more than Probable . The Poet is order'd to feign , but no body desires him to tell Lyes . He is told , that he is oblig'd to Probability , and not to Truth ; but no one says , that the Probability he is oblig'd to by his Art is incompatible with the Truth . The Truth of an Action does not give him the Name of Poet , nor does it rob him of it : and , as Aristotle says , † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet c. 9. an Author is as much a Poet , though the Incidents he relates did really happen : Because whatsoever has been done , is capable of all the Probability , and all the Possibility , which the Art requires , and of being such as ought to be feign'd .

This makes so little an Alteration in the Nature of Things , that even the Author of a Fable is not always satisfied with making a bare Narration of the Action he feigns , but sometimes sets it off with all the Truth 't is capable of . Anciently this was very common ; and I might produce the whole History of the Old ‡ ‡ Omnia in figura contingebant iis . Paul . Epist. ad Corinth . Testament , all the Historical Truths whereof were so many Fables , or Parables divinely invented , which represent Allegorically to us the Doctrine and the Truths which the Author of them has since discover'd to us .

But without concerning our selves with Sacred Things , we know what a Father did to perswade his Children to Unity . He might have only told them , that a Man very eager of breaking all the Arrows in his Quiver , striv'd to snap them all in pieces at once ; but after many fruitless Tryals , he was forc'd to part them , and then breaks them one after another without the least trouble . He might have related a thing that was false , and only probable . But he did something more : he put a bundle of Rods , tied close together , into the hands of each of his Children , and bid them see if they could break them : They used their utmost Endeavour , but to little purpose . Then he gave them the Rods one by one , and the weakest of these young Creatures broke them easily . The Truth of this Matter of Fact does not at all destroy the Nature of the Fable .

Sertorius made use of the same Artifice to his Soldiers . He order'd the Tails of a couple of Horses to be pull'd off before them . At last came a weak old Fellow , and did it with ease , pulling off the Hairs one after another ; whilst a lusty Fellow had harass'd himself to no purpose , because he took up too many Hairs at a time . When a Recital is made of this true Action , one tells as exact a Fable , as when one mentions the Fable of the Iliad , that of Aesop's Dogs , or any other of that Author , wherein is neither Truth nor Probability .

'T is true this Action of Sertorius was feign'd before it was true , and this General did begin to form his Fable by the Moral , which is , ( as I said ) the common way of forming Fables . But here I add , that the True Action may precede the Fable . The Example of Engravers and Statuaries will make us easily conceive how this revers'd Order , so contrary to the Rules of Art , may notwithstanding be applied thereto without destroying them .

Art teaches the Engraver to form his Design first , to fansie the Postures , and the Proportions he would give his Personages ; and afterwards to look out for Materials that are proper to receive that which he has imagin'd . If notwithstanding he lights upon some choice Material , such as Agat , for instance , whose Figure , Colours , and Veins , cannot be suited to all that he has a mind it should ; he then regulates his Design and Fancy according to his Matter . But yet he is not of the Opinion , that these lucky Hits and particular Accidents condemn the Justness of his Art , or make this a standing Rule for him to go by , viz. That he must begin to look out for Materials , and then form his Design according to what the Disposition of his Materials may suggest to his Fancy .

In this then , as in a great many other things , * * Ut Pictura Poesis erit . Hor. Poet. Poetry is like Painting . The Poet is frequently oblig'd to suit himself to the Dispositions of his Matter : which is found to be true , especially in the Composition of the Episodes , which are made after the General Personages are singulariz'd by the Imposition of the Names . It may likewise so happen that some Person in History may furnish an Author with fine Fancies , and as exact a Moral as that which Homer teaches . And in this Case , the Poet does not at all transgress his Art , though he should apply all his Moral to the Action . But notwithstanding this rare and lucky Hit , the common Rules lose nothing of their Exactness or Authority .

We still maintain , That the Epick Poem is a Fable ; that is , not the Rehearsal of the Action of some one Hero , in order to form Mens Manners by his Example ; but , on the contrary , a Discourse invented to form the Manners by the Recital of a feign'd Action , and describ'd at pleasure under the borrow'd Name of some Illustrious Person or other , that is made choice of , after the Platform of the Action , that is ascrib'd to him , is laid .

CHAP. XV. Of the feign'd Actions , the Recitals whereof are Historical .

AS there are True Actions , the Recitals whereof are exact and regular Fables ; so on the other hand , there are Feign'd Actions , the Recitals whereof are Historical . Nothing is to be esteem'd Fabulous in them , but a downright Falshood , and that has as little to do with the Fable , as the Truth of History . The Reason of this is , that the most essential part of the Fable , and that which must indispensibly serve for its Foundation , is the Truth signified . 'T is easie to explain our selves by those very Examples we have already made use of ; we need only cut off some necessary Circumstances of them in order to illustrate the Doctrine we would add here .

If the Dogs that were set to keep the Sheep , and whose Falling out gave the Wolf an opportunity of seizing upon some of them ; if they , I say , follow the Wolf before they end their Quarrel ; and if upon overtaking him , they are as fierce against one another , as against their Common Enemy : in this case , though the Wolf quit his Prey , fly for it , or though he die of the Wounds they give him ; yet this Fiction will no longer signifie , That Concord re-establishes what Discord destroys ; since the Calamity would have been ended , though the Discord still continued .

In like manner , if Achilles being provok'd at the Death of Patroclus , had set upon and kill'd Hector without being reconcil'd to Agamemnon ; the Omission of this Incident , would have spoil'd the Fable .

We add farther , that if Achilles had been less inexorable , and had submitted to the Offers of Agamemnon before the Death of Patroclus ; and if this Quarrel had not cost him the Life of his Friend , the Fable would have been spoil'd : For since the Quarrel would have been only prejudicial to Agamemnon , this Example would have shew'd us , in the Person of Achilles , that one might Quarrel , and be at Variance , without losing any thing : which is quite contrary to the Moral of the Poet.

We should deprive the Odysseïs of its very Soul , and spoil its Fable ; should we retrench from it the Disorders which the Suitors of Penelope rais'd in the Isle of Ithaca , during the Absence of Vlysses : because this Poem would no longer inform us of the mischievous Effects which the Absence of a Commander , a King , or a Father of a Family , does produce .

Lastly , Take away from the Aeneid , the Choice which the Gods made of Aeneas for the re-establishing of the Empire ; his Divine Arms ; the Care Jupiter took to engage Mezentius in the Quarrel , where he was to be punish'd for his Impieties ; and the Terrors with which this God affrights Turnus : and the Aeneid will no longer inform the Romans in favour of Augustus , That the Founders of Empires , such as this Prince was , were the Chosen of Heaven , that Divine Providence protects them from all manner of Violence , and severely punishes the Impious , who oppose their Designs .

All these Recitals want their Emphasis , and that Instruction , which is the most essential part of the Fable . When a Poet goes this way to work , he does not make such Epick Poems as Aristotle and Horace prescribes Rules for , nor such as Homer and Virgil has left us such exact Patterns of . It is not much matter whether these Recitals are of true Things , such as those of Lucan , and Silius Italicus ; or whether they are feign'd and drawn from Fables , such as those of Statius in his two Poems . He relates a Fiction , they History : but all three write more like Historians than Epick Poets .

'T is true , they have all a Mixture of Divinities and Machines , which carry a Fabulous and Poetical Air in them : but since these very Additions are likewise in true Fables , they will never make these Recitals to be of the Nature of an Epopéa ; because these Fables consist only in the Additions and Decorations of the Action . Now the Epick Fable is none of all this ; 't is on the contrary the Soul of a Poem , and the Ground-work upon which all the rest is built . And this Ground-work is to be prepar'd before one so much as think of the Decorations , which make no part of the Essence of the Fable . The being adorn'd and loaded with Animate Things , will never make an Animal , but there must be a Soul added to it : And though all the Earth were cover'd and embellish'd with an infinite number of Trees , and pierc'd very deep with their Roots , yet it will never pass for a Tree it self .

CHAP. XVI . Of the Vicious Multiplication of Fables .

ARistotle bestows large Commendations on Homer for the Simplicity of his Design , because he has included in one single part all that happen'd in the Trojan War . And to him he opposes the Ignorance of certain Poets , who imagin'd that the Vnity of the Fable , or of the Action , was well enough preserv'd by the Vnity of the Hero , and who compos'd their Theseid's , Heraclid's , and such like Poems , in each of which they heap'd up every thing that happen'd to their principal Personage . The Instances of these Defects which Aristotle blames , and would have us avoid , are very instructive . These Poems are lost to us : but Statius has something very like it .

His Achilleid is a Model of all the Adventures which the Poets have feign'd under the Name of Achilles * * Magnanimum Aeacidem , formidatamque Tonanti Progeniem , & patrio vetitam succedere coelo , Diva refer . Quanquam acta Viri multum inclyta centu Maeonio , sed plura vacant . Nos ire per omnem , sic amor est , Heroa vetis . . O Goddess ( says this Poet ) sing of the magnanimous Son of Aeacus , that has made Jove himself tremble , and was deny'd Admittance into Heaven , from whence he deduc'd his Origin . Homer has render'd his Actions very famous ; but he has omitted a great many more than he has mention'd : For my part , I will not omit any thing . 'T is this Hero at his full Length which I describe . Here is a noble Design , and Aristotle falls short of what he proposes .

All this cannot be consider'd , but as an Historical Recital , and without the least Glimpse of a Fable . Nor can I represent the Idea I have of this Design better , than by comparing it with the Fables of Aesop . I have already compar'd the Iliad with one of these Fables : and sure I may take the same liberty in a Poem that is less Regular ; and make a Comparison between the Achilleid which comprehends several Actions under one and the same Name , and several Fables which likewise go under one Name . Homer and Virgil diverted themselves with their Poems of the Gnat , and of the Battel between the Frogs and the Mice : nor shall I stoop lower , when , upon the like occasion , I shall enlarge my self as far as the Design of Statius , and the Necessity of this Doctrine require me .

Let us suppose then and Author , who is as well vers'd in the Fables of Aesop , as Statius was in the Epick Fable ; and who has read the Batrachomyomachia , as well as Statius has the Iliad . He shall have discover'd in this Battel between the Mice and the Frogs , the great Commendations which Homer bestows on the Valour of one of the Heroes in this Fable , upon Meridarpax for instance ; whose Bravery made Jove and all the Gods wonder no less , than that of Capaneus in the Thebaid . And as Statius has read of several Actions of Achilles , which are not in the Iliad ; this Author likewise shall have read of many Adventures attributed to the Mouse , which are not in the Batrachomyomachia of Homer .

He shall know what passed between the City-Mouse and the Country-Mouse ; in order to teach us , That a little Estate enjoy'd quietly is better than a copious one , that exposes us to continual fears .

He shall know that a Lion having spared the Lise of a Mouse , was afterwards saved by this very Mouse , who gnaw'd assunder the Toils in which he was caught ; whereby he might inform us , That the good Offices we do to the most Infirm and Ignoble , are not always lost .

He shall know the Story of the Mountains , which after great Groans , and much ado , were deliver'd of a Mouse ; like those who promise much , but perform little .

He shall have read in the Battel between the Cats and the Mice , that the Mice being defeated and put to flight , those amongst 'em , who had put Horns upon their Heads as a distinguishing Note of their being the Commanders , could not get into their Holes again , and so were all cut off : Because in the like Disorders , the Chief Leaders , and Men of Note , do commonly pay Sawce for all .

And upon these Discoveries , when he has conceiv'd the Idea of a Piece more surprizing than the Batrachomyomachia , or than any other particular Fable of Aesop , he shall undertake a Poem of all the Fables of the Mouse : as Statius undertook one about every thing that Story or the Poets ever said of Achilles . He might begin after the same manner , as Statius did his Achilleid :

Inspire me , O my Muse , what I ought to say concerning the Magnanimous Meridarpax , which Jove himself cannot look upon without trembling . Homer indeed has celebrated some of his Actions in his Poem ; but there are a great many still untouch'd ; and I am resolved to omit nothing that my Hero has done .

He , as well as Achilles , had a Mortal for his Sire , to wit , the Redoubted Artepibulus , and a Mother far above his Rank and Quality , no less than a lofty Mountain . His Birth is foretold by the Oracles , and the People Hocking together from all parts to be Witnesses of this miraculous Labour , beheld Meridarpax creep out of his Mothers Belly , with so much Surprize and Delight , that their joyful Shouts and loud Laughter carried the News thereof to the Gods .

In the War his Associates maintain'd against the Amazonians of the Lakes , he signaliz'd himself in the Death of Physignathus . He would have utterly destroy'd all his Enemies , had not the Gods put a stop to his Designs .

To refresh himself after the Fatigues of this War , he was for taking the Air in some Country-Seat or other . But by the way he is surprized by a furious Lion , who is just ready to tear him to pieces : but Meridarpax was no less eloquent than stout . The Lion admir'd his parts , and let him go .

He was welcom'd in the Country by an old Friend of his Sire's . This Villager thought of making him a delicate Repast with his Country-Fare : but these old , dry , and unsavoury Morsels would not down with our nice Stranger . Whereupon bepitying the sorry Life of his Friend , he invites him to a more pleasant one , and prevail'd upon him to jog along with him .

They were scarce got half-way to their Journey 's end , but they heard a most terrible noise . Meridarpax perceiv'd 't was the Lion's Roar which before had spar'd his Life . He made that way , and in short found him so fetter'd in the Noose , that he expected nothing else but Death : the Mouse freed him from that fear , by gnawing asunder several Knots ; and put the Prisoner in a Capacity of freeing himself from the rest .

Meridarpax re-joyns his Country-Friend , conducts him to Town , and receives him very splendidly in a Pantry well furnish'd . This new Citizen was blessing himself at his happy Change ; when on the sudden in steps the Housekeeper , and at her Heels one of the most formidable Enemies these two Guests had . The Domestick betook himself presently to his Cittadel : but the poor Stranger , seiz'd with Fear , and every Limb about him in an Ague , sees himself a long time expos'd to the Claws of a merciless Enemy . In short he escap'd ; and without minding the good Cheer , as soon as the Danger was over , and he came to himself , he takes his Congé of his Host , and tells him , That he preferr'd his quiet Poverty to all that Plenty which was so attended with frights and fears .

Meridarpax stomachs this Affront , calls together a great many of his Allies , and prevails so effectually upon them , that they enter into a Confederacy with him , and offer to serve him in the War . He , the better to maintain his Grandeur , and make himself more conspicuous than all the rest , claps two great Horns on his Forehead . At the first opening of the Pantry he had a great deal of Success against some of the young Rangers , who first came in . But no sooner had their squeaking call'd in their Sires and their Dams , and the Wawling of a great many others at a distance , gave notice of a new Reinforcement , that was ready to pour in upon the Assailants , but they presently thought of a speedy Retreat . The rest with ease slunk into their Holes , and none left upon the spot but Meridarpax embarass'd with the Ensigns of his Grandeur , which made the Avenues too strait for him to escape at . One of his Party bid him lay aside his Regalities , but he had scarce time to reply , That he had rather die like a King , and make his Exit gloriously .

A Poem made up of these Stories joyn'd together , and which we might compare with one of the Fables of Aesop or the Batrachomyomachia , is very much like the Idea I have of the Theseid , the Heraclid , the Achilleid , and other such like Poems , when compar'd with those of Virgil and Homer .

Aristotle was in the right , when he call'd a certain little Iliad the whole Trojan War squeez'd into the compass of one single Poem . This Iliad indeed was very small , since it was all contain'd in a very narrow Compass . It was not at all like the Iliad of Homer , a small part of which fill'd so many Books . We may say as much of the Achilles of Statius , who is comprehended at his full Length within the Compass of twelve Books . And the Achilles of Homer is so vast , that a few days of his Anger and Passion have taken up four and twenty Books compleatly .

According to the old * * Ex ungue Leonem . Adage it must needs follow , that this Lion of Homer was of a prodigious size , since so large a Table could contain no more than one single Paw , which had been the Destruction of so many Heroes . And on the other side , that the Lion of Statius was but of a very small size , since all his Parts could be comprehended and included in a Table less by half than that of Homer's .

You see then the ill Effects of Polymythia , or a Vicious Multiplication of Fables . The Fable of the Dogs and the Wolf demonstrates how beautiful and regular the Iliad is ; and the Narration of the Adventures of the Mouse shews the contrary in the Achilleid . If my two Parallels are of equal justness , the Difference that appears to be between the Achilles of Homer and that of Statius ought to be attributed to nothing else but the different Conduct of these two Authors .

There is still another way of irregularly multiplying Fables . without making a Rehearsal of the Hero 's whole Life : and that is , by mixing with the main Action other foreign Actions , which have no manner of Relation thereto . This belongs to the Vnity of the Action , and the Art of making the Episodes : of which we shall speak in the next Book .

The Poem of Ovid's Metamorphoses is of another kind . If ( as I have already laid down the Idea I conceiv'd of the Achilleid of Statius , of the Heraclid , of the Theseid , and of other such like Pieces of the Ancient Poets ) I had a mind likewise to present the World with an Example of Aesop's Fables compar'd with Ovid's Metamorphoses ; I should be forced to put all the Fables of Aesop into one Body : Because Ovid is not contented to rehearse all that ever happen'd either to Achilles , or to Hercules , or to Theseus , or to any other single Personage ; but he makes a Recital of all that ever happen'd to all the Persons of the Poetical Fables . This Recital is by no means an Epick Poem , but a Collection of all the Fables that were ever writ in Verse , with as much Connexion and Union , as the Compiler of so many Incidents could devise .

And yet I do not see how any one can condemn this Design , and tax its Author with Ignorance : provided none pretend that he design'd to make an Epopéa , nor compare it to the Poems of Homer and Virgil , as Statius has done his Achilleid and Thebaid .

CHAP. XVII . Of the Regular Multiplication of Fables .

ALtho' we have been speaking so much against the Multiplication of Fables , yet one cannot absolutely condemn it . Our Poets have got several Fables in each of their Poems , and Horuce commends Homer for it . Nay Aristotle himself forbids it in such a flight way , as might be easily evaded . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . &c. Poet. 0. 8. He finds fault with those Poets who were for reducing the Vnity of the Fable into the Vnity of the Hero ; because One Man may have perform'd several Adventures , which 't is impossible to reduce under any One and simple head . This reducing of all things to Vnity and Simplicity is what † † Denique sit quodvis simplex duntaxat , & unum . Hor. Poet. Horace likewise makes his first Rule .

According to these Rules then , it will be allowable to make use of several Fables ; or ( to speak more correctly ) of several Incidents which may be divided into several Fables ; provided they are so order'd , that the Vnity of the Fable be not spoil'd thereby . This Liberty is still greater in the Epick Poem , because 't is of a larger Extent than ordinary Poems , and ought to be Entire and Compleat .

I will explain my self more distinctly by the practice of our Poets .

No doubt but one might make four distinct Fables out of these four following Instructions .

1. Division between those of the same party exposes them to the fury of their Enemies . 2. Conceal your weakness , and you will be dreaded as much , as if you had none of these Imperfections , which they know nothing of . 3. When your strength is only feign'd , and founded only in the Opinion of others ; never venture so far , as if your strength was real . 4. The more you agree together , the less hurt will your Enemies do you .

'T is plain , I say , that each of these particular Maxims , might serve for the Ground-work of a Fiction , and one might make four distinct Fables out of them . May not a Man therefore put all these into one single Epopéa ? No : Our Masters forbid that , unless he could make one single Fable out of them all .

But they do not at all forbid it , if the Poet has so much skill as to unite all into one Body , as Members and Parts , each of which taken asunder would be imperfect ; and if he joins them so , as that this Conjunction shall be no hinderance at all to the Vnity and the Regular simplicity of the Fable . This is what Homer has done with such success in the Composition of the Iliad .

1. The Division between Achilles and his Allies tended to the ruin of their Designs . 2. Patroclus comes to their Relief in the Armour of this Hero , and Hector retreats . 3. But this young man pushing the Advantage , which his Disguise gave him , too far , ventures to engage with Hector himself ; but not being Master of Achilles ' s strength ( whom be only represented in outward appearance ) he is killed , and by this means leaves the Grecian Affairs in the same disorder , which he in that Disguise came to free them from . 4. Achilles provoked at the Death of his friend , is reconciled , and revenges his loss by the Death of Hector . These various Incidents being thus Vnited together , do not make different Actions and Fables , but are only the uncompleat , and unfinished Parts of one and the same Action and Fable , which alone can only be said to be Compleat and Entire : And all these Maxims of the Moral , are easily reduc'd into these two parts , which in my opinion cannot be separated without enervating the force of both . The two parts are these , * * Concordia res parvae crescunt : discordiâ magnae dilabuntur . Salust . de Bell. Jug . That a right understanding is the Preservation , and Discord the Destruction of States .

Tho' then our Poets have made use of two parts in their Poems , each of which might have serv'd for a Fable , as we have observ'd : Yet this Multiplication cannot be call'd a vicious and irregular Polymythia , contrary to the necessary Vnity and Simplicity of the Fable ; but it gives the Fable another Qualification , altogether as necessary and as regular , namely its Perfection and finishing stroke .

There are Fable ; which naturally contain in them a great many parts , each of which might make an exact Fable : And there are likewise Actions of the very same nature . The subject Matter of the Odysseïs is of this kind ; for Homer being willing to instruct a Prince and his Subjects , could not do it without Multiplying Instructions ; and this Prince's Travels into Countries quite different from each other are likewise different Actions . This Multiplication of Instructions and Incidents is extremely approv'd of by Horace . He commends the † † Ut speciosa dehine miracula promat , Antiphaten , Scyllamque , & cum Cyclope Charybdim . Hor. Poet. Adventures of Antiphates , Polypheme , Charybdis , Circe , the Sirens and others , stiling them the Miracles of the Odysseïs .

One might likewise multiply the Fable another way , by mixing with it some other Fable which should not be a part of the Principal one , but only a Species of it . This might be done by applying to some Point that is chiefly specified the Moral Instruction , which the Action contains in general . Homer has left us an Example of this in the Fable of Vulcan , at the End of his first Book of the Iliad .

The General Instruction is , That Discord is a prejudice of the Affairs of them who quarrel : And this story of Vulcan applies it , to the Injury which the falling out of Parents do their Children . Jupiter and Juno quarrel , their Son Vulcan is for perswading his Mother to submit to her Lord and Husband , because he was most Powerful . You know ( says he ) what befell me for endeavouring once to protect you from the rage of Jupiter . He took me by the Heels , and threw me headlong from his Battlements , and I carry the marks of it still about me .

This Fable is quite distinct from the Body of the main Action ; for the Quarrel between Jupiter and Juno , which cost Vulcan so dear , had nothing to do with the Grecian Affairs : 'T is likewise compris'd in five Lines .

CHAP. XVIII . The Conclusion of the First Book .

THE Vnity of the Fable , and the Regular or Vicious Multiplication that may be made thereof , depends in a great measure upon the Vnity of the Action , and upon the Episodes ; so we we shall speak more thereof in another place : But in this and many other Points , the Examen of our Authors , and those particular Instructions one might descend to for an exact Understanding of this Doctrine , would never be at end . And tho I should fill several Volumes with what I have to say about it , yet I should still leave enough to employ the Imagination , the Genius , and the Judgment of both Criticks and Poets , which Art without Nature never brings to Perfection . Nor are we to fansie that Nature alone , and the Advantages of a happy Genius , can make us capable of passing a Judgment upon the Ancient Poets ; unless Art and Study acquaint us with the Tast and the Manners of their Auditors , and of the times they liv'd in .

The Relish which all Antiquity , both Sacred and Profane , Greek and Barbarian , had for Fables , Parables , and Allegories ( which are one and the same in this place ) gave the Ancient Poets a great deal more Liberty than the Moderns have ; and make things in Homer pass for Beauties , which would look but ill in a Piece of Modern Poetry . This likewise exposes our Ancient Poet to such Censures , as bewray our Ignorance oftner than his faults . The * * Vobis datum est nosse mysteria , caeteris in Parabolis tantum . Qui potest capere capiat . Sapientiam omnium antiquorum exquiret sapiens , & in versutias Parabolarum simul introibit , occulta proverbiorum exquiret , & in absconditis Parabolarum conversabitur . Eccl. c. 39. Custom of that time was to conceal their Mysteries from Vulgar View , and not to explain their Allegories . Men of Learning made it a particular Study to discover these mysterious Meanings , and this Penetration of thought made a Considerable part of their Learning . Our Age , which in other things pretends to so much Light and Curiosity , is very negligent of these sorts of Knowledge , since they no longer agree with our Customs .

'T is perhaps this very Neglect , which conceals from our Eyes the greatest Beauties of Homer , and which instead of his Skill , only shews us a very mean and gross Outside , which hinders us from judging favourably of his Spirit and Conduct . However he had reason to make use of this way , and to accommodate himself to the * * Poetae officium in eo positum ut quae vera sunt in alias species obliquis figurationibus cum decore aliquo conversa traducat . Lactant. Instit. l. n. Mode of his Age. He knew well enough , that those , who did not penetrate him would admire him as much as others ; because every one was perswaded that what appear'd to the Eye of the World , was in effect nothing else but the Shell , which contained the Profitable and Pleasant parts of his Work .

Virgil was a great deal harder put to it , because the Romans of his time did not so frequently use Fables and Allegories . Cicero did not treat of Philosophy as Plato and Socrates did , upon whom they Father Aesop's Fables . And S. * * Familiare est Syris & maxime Palaestinis ad omnem sermonem suum Parabolas jungere . Hieron . in Matth. Jerom takes notice that Parables were in greatest vogue in the East . So that when Virgil was minded to shroud his Instructions and Doctrine under Allegories , he could not be contented with such a plain outside as Homer's was , which gravels those who cannot penetrate it , and who are ignorant that he speaks figuratively . But he has so composed his Out-side , and his Fictions , that those very persons who can go no farther , may , without seeking for any thing else , be very well satisfied with what they find there .

This Method is wholly conformable to our Way , and very much to our Palates . But I fansie , the satisfaction we so easily find in these External Fictions alone , does us some Prejudice . The more we fix there , the less search do we make into the Bottom and Truth of things . This makes us perhaps Equivocate upon the Word Fable , which we apply so differently to the Epopéa , and to the Fictions of Aesop .

This Prepossession of Mind does Homer a great deal of Diskindness ; for we are often willing to find such Vertues and good Manners there , which are not there , and which we suppose ought regularly to have been there : Because we are so little acquainted with his way of teaching Morality .

From hence it comes to pass that we meet with so great Obscurities in the Precepts of Aristotle and Horace , who commend Homer so much for that , which we are so little acquainted with , especially if we examine it according to the Ideas of Perfection , which we generally form to our Selves . By this means we shall be subject to great Confusions and many Contradictions . Before ever then we pass a judgment upon these things and upon Homer , who is the Author and first Model of them , 't is requisite we rightly comprehend his Allegories , and penetrate into the Moral and Physical Truths of the Fable , with which his Poems are so full .

As little insight as I have in these Matters ; yet I fansie , I have said enough to explain what a Fable is , and to demonstrate the Idea I have of the Nature of the Epick Poem .

The End of the first Book

Monsieur Bossu's Treatise OF THE EPICK POEM . BOOK II. Concerning the subject Matter of the Epick Poem , or concerning the Action .

CHAP. I. What the subject Matter of the Epick Poem is .

THE Matter of a Poem is the subject which the Poet undertakes , proposes and works upon . So that the Moral , and the Instructions which are the End of the Epopéa , are not the Matter of it . These things are left by Poets in their Allegorical and Figurative Obscurity . They only give us notice in the Beginning of their Poems , that they sing some Action or another : The Revenge of Achilles , the Return of Ulysses , and the Arrival of Aeneas into Italy . Our Masters say just the same thing . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 6. and elsewhere . Aristotle informs us that the Poet Imitates an Action : And † † Res gestae Regumque Ducumque , & tristia bella . Quo scribi possent numero monstravit Homerus . Hor. Poet. Horace in more express terms tells us , That the Actions are the subject Matter of the Epopéa .

But this Action is the Action of some Person : And our Authors expresly say as much . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Ar. Poet. c. 2. Aristotle says that the Poets , who imitate , Imitate the Persons that Act. Horace says , that the Imitated Actions are the Actions of Kings , and Generals of an Army . And our Poets do not propose simply , a Revenge , a Return , or an Establishment : But they say further , that 't is † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Iliad . 1. Achilles , who is Reveng'd ; ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 , &c. Odyss . 1. Vlysses , who Returns ; and a a Arma Virumque cano , Trojae qui primus ab oris Italiam fato profugus Lavinaque venit Littora . Aeneid . 1. Aeneas , that goes to be Establish'd . Therefore , both the Actions and the Personages are the subiect Matter of the Epopéa .

But suppose we should consider them apart , and ask whether the Action or the Persons , is the Chief and Principal Matter of the Poem : It is plain by what has been said in the former Book , that the Action is not made for the Hero , since that ought to be feign'd and invented independently from him , and before the Poet thought of using his Name ; and , that on the other hand , the Hero is only design'd for the Action : And that the Names of Achilles , Vlysses , and Aeneas are only borrow'd to represent the Personages which the Poet feign'd in general . The Nature of the Fable will not admit us to doubt hereof ; since all the Actions that are there rehears'd under the Names of a Dog , a Wolf , a Lyon , a Man , and the like , are not design'd to inform us of the Nature of these Animals to which they are applied ; or to tell us of some Adventure that happen'd to them : For the Author of a Fable does not mind any such thing . These Personages on the contrary are only design'd to sustain the Action he has invented . It is therefore true in this Sense , that the * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. c. 6. Action alone is the subject Matter of the Epopêa , or at least , that 't is a great deal more so than the Persons ; since that in its own Nature is so , and the Persons are only so by virtue of the Action .

So likewise have those been condemn'd , who have taken the Heroes for the subject Matter of their Poems . Aristotle finds fault with the Poets who under the name of the Theseid , and the Heraclid , have writ the Lives of Theseus and Hercules in Verse . Statius is likewise to blame in his Achilleid , because he does not sing of Achilles who did such or such an Action , as Homer and Virgil have done ; but he sings Achilles himself , and this Achilles at his full length .

'T is true Virgil in his Aeneid , and Homer in his Odysseïs call their Poem by their Heroe's Name : But this is no more than what is ordinary in Fables . Thus the Titles run , the Wolf and the Lamb , the Lyon and the Mouse , &c. and yet no one imagines , that these Fables were written to inform us of the Nature of these Animals , or to tell us what a certain Wolf has done or said . The same Judgment ought to be made of the Epick Fables , and the Application thereof is easie .

This Doctrine may easily render us capable of judging what extent is allowable to the Matter of a Poem ; of what Incidents it is compos'd ; and whether 't is lawful to insert such as belong not to the main Matter .

Since then the Action is the Matter of a Fable , it is plain that whatever Incidents are necessary to the Fable , and make up a part of it , are likewise necessary to the Action , and are parts of the Epick Matter , none of which ought to be omitted : Such , for instance , are the Quarrel of the Dogs ; and that of Agamemnon and Achilles : The havock which the Wolf made among the Sheep ; and the Slaughter which Hector made in the Confederate Army : The re-union of the Dogs with each other ; and that of the Grecian Princes : And lastly , the Re-settlement and Victory which was consequent to this Re-union in each of these Fables . Thus all things being adjusted , you see the Fable , and the whole Action , with which the Poem ought to conclude . If less had been said about it , it had not been enough .

But can an Author put nothing into his Poem , but what is purely the Matter of it ? Or has he not the Liberty of inserting what he pleases , and of talking to it , as * * Purpureus larè qui Splendeat unus & alter Assuitur pannus . Hor. Poet. Horace expresses himself , some pieces of rich and gay Stuff , that have nothing to do with the Ground-work ? This is another Vicious Extreme , into which we shall never fall , if we follow the Dictates of Right Reason , the Practice of good Poets , and the Rules of the best Masters . They permit us on the one hand to insert some Incident or another , that is necessary to Clear up a part of the Action altho this Incident make up no part of the Fable nor the Action ; and tho of it self it be not the subject Matter of the Epopéa : And on the other hand they do not approve of the Recital of an Incident that has not one of these two Conditions , viz. Such a one as is neither the Matter of the Epopéa , nor necessary to illustrate any part of the Action .

Examples and Authority will justifie this Doctrine , and make it more intelligible .

If in the Fable we mention'd , Aesop had related that the Wolf ranging one day in the Forest prick'd his Foot with a Thorn , of which after a great deal of Pain he was at last cur'd ; doubtless he would have quite spoil'd his Fable : And Homer too had spoil'd his , if he had made an ample Narration of some Adventure that had happen'd to Hector , which had no manner of dependance on his design . They would have been more considerably to blame , had they inserted any Incident , which had not happen'd to these chief Personages , but which they only saw or heard . On the other side Aesop had said something to the purpose , if , to amplifie his Fable , he had related that the Woolf was wounded in the Foot , and being not quite cur'd , the Pain or the Weakness of that part hinder'd his Running , and expos'd him a Prey to the Dogs . So Homer has very regularly related , that Vlysses had formerly been wounded in the Leg , as he was hunting on the top of Parnassus : For this Wound serv'd to discover this Hero , and this discovery is part of the Action , and of the Matter of the Poem .

An Historian , that undertakes to write of one single Action , as the War of Catiline , or the Reign of a King , as Salust has done that of Jugurtha ; has not for his subject Matter the Wars and Actions which went before , or happen'd after . Yet he may mention some , which may serve as Instances in the Deliberations ; or for the maintaining of some Interests ; or upon any other Occasion that is necessary to his main Subject . A Poet has the same Privileges , and the same Reasons on his side : Our two have practis'd accordingly , and have the Approbation of Aristotle himself . For he does not blame Homer for making the Recital we mention'd ; and yet he says that the Wound of Vlysses is not the Matter of the Poem to which it is apply'd . His words are these . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. c. 8. When Homer compos'd his Odysseïs , he did not make all the Adventures of Ulysses the Matter of his Poem ; such as the Wound be receiv'd upon Parnassus , and the folly he feign'd before the Grecians : Because , thô one of these two things happen'd , yet it cannot be said that the other ought necessarily , or probably to have happen'd as the Consequence of the former .

This Passage of Aristotle teaches us two things . The first is , that every thing we meet with in an Epick Poem is not the Matter of it ; since this Wound of Vlysses , which Aristotle , says is not the Matter of the Odysseïs , is not withstanding very largely described there . The second is , that the foreign Incidents , that are inserted in the Poem , should be so United and Joyn'd to some other Incident , which is really the subject Matter of the Poem , that one might swear if one happen'd , the other must necessarily , or in all Probability have happen'd as a Consequence of the former .

The † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Odyss. lib. 19. Poet has observ'd this himself in the Wound of Vlysses . The discovery thereof is a Consequence so probable , that this Hero finding he was forc'd to let his Nurse wash his Feet , chose to let her do it in a dark place , that so at least she might be kept from the sight of it . The Birth and Education of Camilla is an Incident made use of after the very same way in the Aeneid : It is not the subject Matter of the Poem , but 't is necessary to clear up so surprizing a Miracle as was the Valour of that excellent Virago .

When an Adventure has not this Consequence , nor this necessary or Probable Connexion with some part or another of the Matter proper to the Poem ; 't is by no means to be inserted : And upon this account Homer has not said one word of the Counterfeit folly of Vlysses . Statius with a great deal more Reason should never have meddled with the story of Hypsipyle .

All the particular Incidents which compose the Action are called Episodes . We ought then to be well acquainted with the Nature , Vnion , and Qualities of them , if we would know what is the Action and the Subject Matter of the Epick Poem .

CHAP. II. Episodes consider'd in their Original .

THE better to know what an Episode is , and to comprehend what Aristotle has said about it , we must look back for it in its first beginning , and in the Rise of Tragedy , whereby it first began . I speak of it here thô Monsieur Hedelin has formerly writ about it .

Tragedy at first was only a Song in honor of Bacchus , which was performed by several persons ( who made up the Musical Chorus ) with dancing and playing upon Instruments .

Since this was too tedious , and might fatigue the singers , as well as disgust the Audience ; they thought of dividing the Song of the Chorus into several parts , and of making some kind of Narrations between these Intervals . At first one single person spoke them : Then they brought in two speakers , because Dialogues are more diverting : And at last they increas'd the number to three , to give way for more Action . Those who made these Narrations upon the Scene or Stage were call'd Actors . And what they said being adventitious to the Song of the Chorus , these Narrations were no more than Ornaments added to a Ceremony , of which they were not a necessary part : And for this reason were they call'd Episodes .

Besides , as they were only added to refresh the Chorus , and their Assistants ; it follows that the Chorus had sung before , and were to sing after them : So that these Episodes were always to be plac'd between the two Songs of the Chorus . Whatever was said before the first , or after the last Song , was not look'd upon as an Episode : But these new Additions were made for Reasons distinct from those which were urg'd for introducing that . The design of them was , either to welcome the Company , and prepare them for what was to be Acted ; and this was call'd the Prologue : or else to thank and take leave of them ; which was call'd the Exode or Epilogue .

All this made up the four parts of Quantity , as * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. c. 12. Aristotle terms it : viz. The Prologue , the Episode , the Exode , and the Chorus . The Prologue is all that precedes the first Enorance of the Chorus ; the Episode is all that is between the Songs of the Chorus ; the Exode is that which is said after the Chorus has done singing ; the Chorus was the Company of those who sang the praises of Bacchus : And at first that was the only Tragedy in being .

As this Narration of the Actors was inserted in several places , and made at several times : So one might consider it Entire , as one single Episode compos'd of several parts ; and one might likewise call each part an Episode . In this last sense a Tragedy had several Episodes ; and in the first it had but only one . These different Episodes of one and the same Tragedy might be deduc'd from as many different Subjects : Or be all taken from the same Subject , that was divided into as many Recitals or Incidents as the Poet had a mind to allow Intervals for the Chorus to take breath in . If we consider the first Institution of these foreign Pieces , there was not the least necessity of deducing all of them from one and the same subject . Three or four Recitals of different Actions , that had no relation to one another , could refresh the singers well enough , and keep the Audience from languishing , as much as if they had all been only different parts of one and the same Action , very closely connected together .

But these foreign Beauties soon took off from the lustre of those others which so charitably gave them Entertainment : And that which at first was only an Addition to Tragedy , afterwards became the Principal part of it . Then , they were consider'd as a Body , whose Members should not be Heterogeneous , and independant on one another . The best Poets made use of them thus , and they deduc'd their Episodes only from one single Action . This was so far establish'd in Aristotle's time , that he made a standing Rule of it , He says , that the most defective Tragedies are such , whose Episodes have no manner of Connexion . He calls them Episodical , that is to say , overcharg'd with Episodes : Because these lesser Episodes cannot make one single one , but of necessity remain in a Vicious Multiplicity .

Actions , that were most simple , and had least of Intrigue , were most of all liable to this Irregularity , because having fewer Incidents , and fewer parts than others , they afford so much the less Matter . A Poet of no great Conduct , very often quite spends himself at the first or second coming on of his Actors between the Songs of the Chorus : And then he finds himself oblig'd to seek out for other Actions to fill up the Intervals behind . Our first French Poets did so . They took to fill up each Act just as many different Actions of a Hero , which had no manner of Connexion , save that they were done by one single person . These Fables are Episodical , and such as Aristotle has condemn'd , as we hinted before . His Censure is in these Words : * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . A. Poet. c. 9. Of all the Fables and simple Actions that are , the Episodical are the most Imperfect . The Episodical Fable I call such a one , whose Episodes have no necessary nor probable Connexion .

CHAP. III. An Explication of the foregoing Doctrine by an Instance .

AS for what has been said , you may consult what the Practice of the Poets was , when they compos'd the Works we have been speaking of . After the Fable was invented , and the Names impos'd on the Personages , the Author was to consider all the Circumstances of his Action , and what parts were finest and most suitable to the Movements of the Theatre , and to his own design ; and then he was to make as many parts of his Representation , as there were distinct Narrations between the Songs of the Chorus .

To give you a famous Instance of this , and such an Instance as is well known to the whole World , we will make use of Seneca's Oedipus , without minding the several Absurdities that are therein .

Oedipus begs the Gods to tell him the means of putting a stop to the Plague that then rag'd at Thebes : The Oracle returns him this Answer , That the Death of King Laïus his Predecessor must be Reveng'd . He makes enquiry after the Murderers , and finds , that he was not only guilty of this Man's Death , but besides was the very Son of Laïus , whom he had Murder'd , and of Jocasta his Widow , whom he had Marry'd . He punishes himself severely for it , and by this means restores the Health of his Country .

You see then this Famous Fable , and in truth the most just , and the best invented , as to the Moral , and the Theatral part , of any Antiquity can boast of .

The * * Reges & exactos Tyrannos Densum humeris bibit sure Vulgus . Hor. Grecians , for whom it was compos'd , were extremely pleas'd to see the Crimes and the Misfortunes of Kings : And the Moral instruction , that was most in Vogue at that time , was such a one as did beget in Men an Aversion to Monarchy , and a love to Democracy , which they call'd liberty . What the Poets feign'd of Oedipus contain'd all these things ; and was very proper to prevent the Grandees from Aspiring to Tyranny , and to inspire others with a Resolution never to endure it .

This Fable being thus conceiv'd has very naturally these five parts . The first comprehends the Misfortunes of the People . The second is the Enquiry into the Cause and the Remedy of these Misfortunes . The third is the Discovery thereof . The fourth is the Effect of this Discovery , and the performance of what the Gods requir'd , namely the punishing those Crimes , that had been the Cause of the Ills which the People suffer'd . And the fifth is the Cure and Joy that ought to be the Consequence of the Repentance and Punishment of Oedipus .

But this last part was very improper for the Theatre . The Calm and Languishing Passions , of which the spectators upon this occasion were hardly capable , would have enervated and spoil'd the Beauty of those violent Passions so proper to Tragedy , and with which the Audience were to be inspir'd . The Poet then was not to make an exact Episode of this last part . On the other hand , he has divided the second part into two , and has supply'd his five Acts in the following Method .

1. The Plague rag'd in the City of Thebes , and brought so many Miseries and dreadful Deaths upon them , that King Oedipus , touch'd with the Misfortune of his Subjects , would freely have left the Kingdom : But he hopes for some Relief from the Oracle he has sent to consult , and attends its Answer .

2. Creon brings him the Answer , and informs him , That the Cause of the Thebans Misfortunes , is the Murder committed upon the person of his Predecessor King Laïus : And that the Remedy is the punishing of the Murderer . Oedipus sets himself upon his duty of punishing the Offence : And to discover who this Murderer was , whom no body as yet knew , he orders Tiresias to be sent for . This Priest began by a Sacrifice , but that made no discovery of the thing in question .

3. He then had recourse to more powerful means . He calls up from the shades below the Ghost of Laïus , who discovers to him that King Oedipus is the Assassin that ought to be punished ; and moreover , that this Prince , who thought himself innocent , was at the same time guilty of Incest and Parricide . But Oedipus , inform'd of this only by Creon , and supposing he was born at Corinth , Son to King Polybus and Queen Meropa , is very confident of his own Innocence , and gives no Credit to the Report Creon made him . He is perswaded 't is a Falshood invented to out him of the Kingdom , to which Creon was next Heir .

4. But at last he understands that he did kill Laïus , and was his Son , and Jocasta's , whom he had ignorantly married .

5. He punishes himself severely , plucks out his own eyes , goes into Exile , and so restores Health and Quietness to his People .

CHAP. IV. Of the several sorts of Episodes , and what is meant by this Term.

THE Word Episode passing from the Theatre to the Epopéa , did not change its Nature : all the Difference * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Poet. cap. 17. Aristotle makes between them is , that the Episodes of Tragedy are shortest , and the Episodes in these great Poems are by much the longest . So slight a Difference should be no hinderance to our speaking of both after the same manner .

This Word , according to Aristotle , is capable of three distinct Meanings . The first arises from that Enumeration of all the parts of Tragedy , which we mention'd . For if there are only four parts , viz. The Prologue , the Chorus , the Episode , and the Epilogue ; it follows , that the Episode in Tragedy is whatever does not make up the other three ; and that if you substract those three , the Episode necessarily comprehends all that remains . And since in our times they make Tragedies without either Chorus , Prologue , or Epilogue ; this Term Episode signifies all the Tragedy which is made now-a-days . So likewise the Epick Episode will be the whole Poem . There is nothing to be substracted thence , but the Proposition and the Invocation , which are instead of the Prologue . In this sense the Epopéa and Tragedy have each of them but one single Episode , or rather , are nothing else but an Episode : and if the Parts and Incidents of which the Poet composes his Work have an ill Connexion together , then the Poem will be Episodical and defective , as we hinted before .

But as all that was sung in Tragedy was , according to Aristotle's Expression , call'd the Chorus in the Singular Number ; and yet its being in the Singular was no reason why each part ( when it was divided into several ) should not be call'd the Chorus too ; and so several Chorus's be introduc'd : just so in the Episode , each Incident , and each part of the Fable and the Action , is not only stil'd a part of the Episode , but even an Entire Episode . 'T is in this sense that † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 : Poet. cap. 17. Aristotle said , the Madness of Orestes , and his Cure by Expiatory Sacrifices , were two Episodes . This Term taken in this sense signifies each part of the Action exprest in the Model , and first Constitution of the Fable ; such as the Absence and Travels of Vlysses the Disturbance of his Family , and his Presence which re-adjusted all things .

Aristotle tells us of a third sort of Episodes , when he says , that whatever is comprehended and exprest in the first Platform of the Fable is Proper , and the other Things are Episodes . ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Ibid. This is what he says just after he had propos'd the Model of the Odysseïs . We must then in the Odysseïs it self examine what this third sort of Episode is , the better to know wherein it differs from the second . We shall see how the Incidents he calls proper , are absolutely necessary : and how those , which he distinguishes by the Name of Episodes , are in one sense necessary and probable ; and in another sense not at all necessary , but such as the Poet had liberty to make use of , or not .

After Homer had laid the first Ground-work of the Fable , and prepar'd the Model , such as we have observ'd it to be , it was not then at his Choice to make or not make Vlysses absent from his Country . This Absence was Essential : * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Ibid. Aristotle stiles and places it among those things that are proper to the Fable . But the Adventure of Antiphates , that of Circe , of the Sirens , of Scylla , of Charybdis , &c. he does not call such . The Poet was left at his full liberty to have made choice of any other , as well as these things . So that , they are only probable , and such Episodes as are distinct from the main Action , to which in this sense they are neither proper nor necessary .

But now let us see in what sense they are necessary thereto . Since the Absence of Vlysses was necessary , it follows , that not being at home , he must be somewhere else . Though then the Poet had his liberty to make use of none of these particular Adventures we mention'd , and he made choice of ; yet had he not an absolute liberty of making use of none at all : but if he had omitted these , he had been necessarlly oblig'd to substitute others in their room ; otherwise he would have left out part of the Matter contain'd in his Model , and his Poem would have been defective .

This last sense of the Word Episode is not so different from the second as it seems at first sight , since it still informs us that an Episode is a necessary part of the Action . The difference between them lies in this , that an Episode in the second sense is the Foundation and Ground-work of the Episode in the third Sense : and that this third Sense adds to the second the probable Circumstances of Places , Princes , and People , where and among whom he was cast by Neptune , and abode during his Absence from Ithaca .

We must likewise take notice , that in this third Sense , the Incident which serves as a Foundation to an Episode , ought to be of some Extent and Compass , and that without this an Essential part of the Action and Fable is not an Episode . As in the Example of Oedipus which we propos'd ; the Cure of the Thebans is a part proper and essential to the Fable , and would be an Episode in the second Sense . But because the Poet has not amplified this Incident by any Circumstance , therefore 't is not an Episode in the third Sense : 't is only the Foundation of such an Episode , which the Poet made no use of . This Observation makes it clear , that in reality the first Platform of the Action contains only what is proper and necessary to the Fable , and has not any Episode ; as Aristotle says of the Model he has given us of the Odysseïs .

'T is therefore in this third Sense we are to understand the Precept of Aristotle , which orders us not to form the Episodes till after we have made Choice of the Names we would give our Personages . Homer could not have spoken of a Fleet and Navy , as he has , if instead of the Names of Achilles , Agamemnon , and the Iliad , he had made choice of those of Capaneus , Adrastus , and the Thebaid , as he might have done without spoiling the Essence of the Fable .

If one should form an Episode , whereof not only the Names and Circumstances were not necessary , but whose very Ground-work and Foundation was not a part of the Action , that serves for the Subject-Matter of a Poem : then this Episode would have a sorry Connexion , and would render the Fable Episodical . This Irregularity is discernable , when one can so take away a whole Episode , without substituting any thing in its room , that this Substraction shall make no Vacuum , nor Defect in the Poem . The Story of Hypsipyle inserted in the Thebaid , is an Instance of these defective Episodes . If the whole Narration of this famous Matron were taken away , the Sequel of the main Action would be but so much the better ; one should not perceive that the Poet had forgot any thing , or wanted the least Member of the Body of his Action .

But suppose any one should say , That if these particular Incidents were natural and necessary Members , it would thence follow , that they would not be foreign , extraneous , additional , and inserted Pieces . To this I answer , that all this is true ; but withall , that the Thing has retain'd its original and native Name , though it has quite lost its Nature . Aristotle , who as well as others has retain'd this dubious Term , prescribes the Rules of Tragedy under the Name of Episode . Therefore in this Treatise , wherein I only follow his Precepts , I am oblig'd to take every thing in his sense , and not spoil the Nature of the Things , which he explains , by a superstitious adhering to a Word that has chang'd its Nature ever since its first Rise .

I will maintain then that the Word Episode in the Epick Poem does not signifie in extraneous foreign Peice , even in Aristotle's opinion : but that it signifies the whole Narration of the Poet , or a necessary and essential part of the Action and the proper Subject , extended and amplified by probable Circumstances .

This Conclusion deserves a more particular Examination .

CHAP. V. Concerning the Nature of Episodes .

AN Episode , according to Aristotle , should not be taken from something else and added to the Action ; but should constitute a part of the Action it self . That this is Aristotle's Mind , we shall find , if we would but reflect , that this great Master , when he treated of Episodes , never made use of this Word to Add , although his Interpreters have found it so natural , that they have commonly made use of it in their Translations and Notes .

When he commends Homer for taking only part of the Siege of Troy for the Subject-Matter of his Iliad ; he does not say that he has amplified it by Adding a great many Episodes to it ; this Expression would distinguish the Episodes from the Matter to which they would have been added : But he says , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 23. That he made use of a great many Episodes of this Action : and this denotes that the Episodes of the Iliad were part of the Action which is the Subject-Matter thereof . And a few Lines after he says , † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Ibid. That the Poet divided his Poem by Episodes . This is what we observ'd before in Oedipus .

If the Episodes were taken elsewhere , and added to the Action , whereof they were not parts , it would signifie little whether they were join'd and connected with one another or no , but they should be join'd to the Action , and this ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Cap. 9. Aristotle should have taught us . And yet he does no such thing , but orders us to connect them with one another .

He does not say , that after one has prepar'd the Platform of the Fable , and made Choice of the Names , one should add the Episodes ; but he makes use of a Verb deriv'd from this Word ; as if we should say in our Language , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Cap. 17. That the Poet ought to Episodize his Action . And elsewhere he says , That the Episodes should not be foreign , but † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Ibid. proper to the Subject .

In fine , we might likewise alledge this very Chapter , wherein Aristotle lays down the first Draught of the Odysseïs , and which he concludes by saying , that whatever he has propos'd is proper to the Subject , and that the Episodes make up the rest . In this Passage , to give us a reason of the different Extent of Tragedy and the Epopéa ; or to inform us how this last becomes longer : He does not say , that they Add a few Episodes to the Tragick Action , and a great many to the Epick ; but he says more exactly , That the Episodes of Tragedy are short and concise , and the Epopéa is extended and amplified by its Episodes . He demonstrates this Length of the Epopéa amplified by the Extent of its Episodes , by the Poem of the Odysseïs , which he brings as an Example , and says , ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Ibid. The Subject of it is long . Now if the Episodes ( take the Word in what sense you please ) be not part of the Subject , 't is plain the more room they take up the less is left for the Subject ; and that the longer they are , the more straitned and short will the Subject be . If then the Epopéa be stretch'd out by its Episodes , and if for this very reason the Subject of the Odysseïs is long , as Aristotle affirms ; it then necessarily follows , that the Subject is nothing else but the very Episodes .

The better to demonstrate this Length of the Odysseïs , Aristotle adds , That the Subject of this Poem is a Voyage for several Years ; That Neptune did all he could to hinder the chief Personage from returning home ; that he does return thither notwithstanding ; where he meets with very great Disorders , the Authors of which he punishes , and so restores Peace and Quietness to his Kingdom . This Subject is indeed a great deal longer than that of the Iliad ; and it requires a longer time , and more Actions for all these things , than for the simple Anger of an enrag'd and pacified person , where every thing was transacted in one and the same place .

This Length of the Odysseïs , compar'd to that of the Iliad , would still hold good , though we should substract from it the several Years which precede the opening of the Poem ; and began the Action only at the time of the first Council of the Gods . For it would be still longer than that of the Iliad by a fifth part ; the one taking up 58 Days , and the other only 47 or 48.

But one cannot exclude from the Subject that which precedes the opening of the Poem , and that which Vlysses relates to Alcinous , without contradicting * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Cap. 17. Aristotle , by reducing into the Compass of less than two Months , what he says took up several Years . This would be to give † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Odyss. 1. Homer himself the Lye , who says , That his Subject contains the Voyages and Travels of a Man , who after the taking of Troy , saw several Cities , and knew the Customs of a great many States and People : he says , that he suffer'd much by Sea , and did all he could to secure the Return of his Attendants as well as of himself . Now all this did not happen since the first Council of the Gods . Then , there were seven whole Years , in which he never so much as thought of his Attendants , for they were all destroy'd . And since that , there happen'd but one Tempest , and he visited no more than one City . These seven Years then , and all the Adventures , the Travels , and the Tempests which preceeded , from the Ruin of Troy down to that time , are not extraneous , foreign , or additional Pieces ; but are with the rest the Subject of the Poem . And yet they are Episodes , as Aristotle asserts in these Words , The rest are Episodes : for this Rest is all that he did not name in particular . Now he spoke only in general , of the Absence of Vlysses , of the Storms he met with , of the Disturbances of Ithaca , and of the Re-establishment of this Prince .

In short , when we discours'd of the Nature of the Fable , we there took notice of the absolute Necessity the Poet lay under of keeping Vlysses from his Country a very long time ; of ordering his Absence as caused by the Storms he met with ; of casting this Hero upon several different Countries ; of raising great Disorders in Ithaca ; of making an Example of his Enemies by punishing them ; and of re-establishing the Prince himself . This was so far necessary to the Subject , that the Poet was not left to his Liberty of changing it , without destroying his Design , spoiling his Fable , and making another Poem of it .

But though it was necessary that Vlysses should be with strange Princes for several Years ; yet it was not necessary that one of these Princes should be Antiphates , another Alcinous ; nor that the Nymph Calypso , and the Enchantress Circe should be his Hostesses . One might have changed these Persons and States into others , without changing the Design and the Fable . Thus , though these Adventures were part of the Subject after the Poet's Choice of them , yet they were not proper to the Subject .

It is likewise necessary to the Subject , that Vlysses revenge himself , and punish his Wife's Courtiers ; but 't is neither proper nor necessary that he should kill them with Javelins , as they were at Supper in his House , at Night too , and none to assist him but his Son and two or three of his Domestics . He might have appear'd at the Head of an Army , and without the least Surprize have kill'd them with his drawn Sword at their own Houses , or in the open Field . But yet will any Man say , that his killing them with Javelins is not part of the Subject ?

In a word , the Revenge he takes , and the punishing of these Miscreants , exprest in short , as we see it in the Model Aristotle has left us , is a simple Action proper and necessary to the Subject . It is not an Episode , but the Foundation and Soul of an Episode : and this same Punishment explain'd and amplified with all the Circumstances of Times , Places , and Persons , is not a simple and proper Action , but an Episodiz'd Action , and a true Episode : And though the Poet is left at his Freedom and Choice therein , yet it does not follow that the Episode is form'd upon a less proper and necessary Foundation .

'T is in this last Sense , and of this only sort of Episodes , we shall generally speak .

CHAP. VI. The Definition of Episodes .

AFter what has been said , we may very well infer , That Episodes are necessary Parts of the Action , extended by probable Circumstances .

An Episode is but a part of an Action , and not an entire one ; like that of Hypsipyle in Statius , which renders this Poem defective and Episodical .

That part of the Action which serves for a Foundation to the Episode , ought not to continue in its Simplicity ; such as it is in the General related in the first Draught of the Fable . Aristotle having recounted the Parts of the Odysseïs , says expresly , that they are proper : and in this Case distinguishes them from the Episodes . Thus in the Instance of Oedipus which we produc'd , we said , that the Cure of the Thebans is not an Episode , but only the Foundation and Subject of an Episode , which the Poet made no use of . And Aristotle ( by saying that Homer in the Iliad has taken but a few Things for his Subject , but that he has made use of a great many Episodes ) does inform us , that the Subject contains in it self a great many Episodes , which the Poet may or may not make use of . That is , it contains the Foundation of them , which one may leave in its general and simple Brevity , as Seneca has done the Cure of the Thebans ; or which one may enlarge and explain , as the same Author has done the Chastisement of Oedipus . In this last way 't is that the Poet makes use of them , and forms just Episodes out of them .

The Subject of a Poem may be long after two ways : the first is , when the Poet makes use of a great many of its Episodes : and the other is , when he gives to each a considerable Extent . 'T is by this Method , that the Epick Poets extend their Poems a great deal more than the Dramatick .

We must likewise take notice , that there are some parts of an Action which of themselves do naturally present us but with one single Episode ; as , the Death of Hector , that of Turnus , &c. There are likewise more fertile parts of the Fable , which oblige the Poet to form several Episodes of each part , though in the first Model they are exprest in as simple a manner as the rest . Such are , the Fight between the Trojans and the Grecians ; the Absence of Vlysses ; the Travels of Aeneas , &c.

For the Absence of Vlysses from his own Country during so many Years together , does necessarily require his Presence elsewhere ; and the Design of the Fable obliges him to be cast into several Dangers , and upon several States . Now each Danger , and each State , furnishes Matter for an Episode , which the Poet may make use of , if he please .

We conclude then , that Episodes are not Actions , but the parts of an Action : That they are not added to the Action , and the Matter of the Poem ; but that they constitute this Action and this Matter , as the Members of the Body constitute the Matter of it : That upon this Account they are not deduc'd from any thing else , but the very Foundation of the Action : That they are not united and connected to the Action , but to one another : That all the parts of an Action are not so many Episodes ; but only such as are amplified and extended by particular Circumstances , and in the manner whereby the Poet rehearses a Thing : And lastly , That this Union between each other , is necessary in the Foundation of the Episode , and probable in the Circumstances .

CHAP. VII . Of the Vnity of the Action .

THere are four Qualifications in the Epick Action : the first is its Vnity ; the second its Integrity ; the third its Importance ; and the fourth its Duration . We will begin with the first .

In this place we shall consider the Vnity of the Action , not only in the first Draught and Model of the Fable , but in the extended and Episodiz'd Action . And in truth , if the Episodes are not added to the Action , but on the contrary are the necessary parts thereof ; it is plain , that they ought to be comprehended in it , and its Vnity still preserv'd : And the Fables which Aristotle calls Episodical are such , wherein some Episodes that are foreign , and not duly connected , add some Actions to the Action of the Poem , and so spoil the Vnity of it .

The Vnity of the Epick Action , as well as the Vnity of the Fable , does not consist either in the Vnity of the Hero , or in the Vnity of Time : This is what we have already taken notice of . But 't is easier to tell wherein it does not consist , than 't is to discover wherein it does .

From the Idea I have conceived thereof by reading our Authors , these three things , I suppose , are necessary thereto . The first is , to make use of no Episode , but what arises from the very Platform and Foundation of the Action , and is as it were a Natural Member of this Body . The second is , exactly to unite these Episodes , and these Members , with one another . And the third is , never to finish any Episode so as it may seem to be an entire Action ; but to let each Episode still appear in its own particular Nature , as the Member of a Body , and as a Part of it self not compleat .

We have already established the first of these three Qualifications , in the Doctrine we laid down concerning the Episodes ; and perhaps enough has been said about it : but yet we will clear up this Doctrine by some Instances taken from the principal Episodes of the Aeneid .

In the Scheme we have drawn of the Fable and Action of this Poem , we have observed , that Aeneas ought of necessity to be a King newly elected , and the Founder of an Empire rais'd upon the Ruins of a decay'd State : that this Prince should be oppos'd by wicked Men : and lastly , that he should be established by Piety and the Force of Arms.

The first part of this Action is the Alteration of a State , of a King , and of a Priest . And this is Virgil's first Episode , contain'd in his second Book , wherein the * * Sacra suosque tibi commendat Troja penates : Hos cape fatorum comites , his moenia quaere , &c. Aeneid . 2. Poet describes the Subversion of the Trojan Empire in Asia , the Death of King Priam , and of the Priest Panthus . To all this he adds the Choice which both Gods and Men make of Aeneas to be the Successor of these two deceased Persons , and to re-establish the Empire of the Trojans in Italy .

The second part of the Action begins , when Aeneas sets himself upon his Duty , executes the Orders he receives , and marches for Italy . Virgil has plac'd almost all this second Episode in his third Book : the rest lies in the first , in the fifth , and in the beginning of the seventh .

The third part of the Action is the Establishing Religion and Laws . Religion consists in Sacrifices , in Funeral Rites , and Festival Sports . Aeneas performed all these ; and the † † Hac casti maneant in relligione Nepotes . Aeneid . 3. Poet took care from time to time to advertise his Readers , that these Ceremonies were not to be consider'd as so many particular Actions , or as the simple Effects of the Hero's Piety upon some particular Occasions ; but as sacred Rites , which he was going to ‡ ‡ Hinc maxima porro Accepit Roma , & patrium servavit honorem . Aeneid . 5. transfer into Italy under the Quality of the Founder of the Roman Empire . By this means , no body can doubt of his meaning , nor take these Acts of Religion , and these Episodes , for any thing else but the necessary and essential Parts of his Action and Matter . This Part furnishes the Poet with several Episodes , which he distributes into several parts of his Work ; as in the third Book , where Aeneas receives from Helenus the Ceremonies which hereafter he was oblig'd to institute : in the fifth , where he celebrates the Sports hard by his Father's Tomb : And elsewhere almost throughout the whole Poem .

Virgil design'd his sixth Book for the other part about Laws , viz. for the Morality , for the Politicks , and for the forming such a Genius as was to animate the Body-Politick of the Roman State .

After these parts of the Action , which contain the performance of the Hero 's Designs , we are to consider likewise the Obstacles he meets with , which make up the Intrigues of the Action . These Obstacles are the Effects of Juno's Passion . And we might say , that this Opposition is no less proper to the Aeneid , than the Opposition of Neptune is to the Odysseïs . Now we observ'd that Aristotle placed the Anger of this God in the first Draught of the Greek Poem among the Incidents that are proper to it .

The first of these Intrigues , and the most considerable Obstacle of all , is that of Dido , which takes up the first and fourth Book . The second is the Burning of his Fleet in the fifth Book . The third is the Love , the Ambition , and the Valour of Turnus . This last supply'd him with a great many Episodes , being the Cause of all the War Aeneas met with in Italy . It begins at the seventh Book , and is not over till the End of the Poem . 'T is thus that the Episodes of the Aeneid are deduc'd from the Fable and the very Essence of the Action .

The second Thing we said was necessary for the Vnity of the Action , is the Unity and the Connexion of the Episodes with one another . For besides that Relation and Proportion which all the Members ought to have with one another , so as to constitute but one Body , which should be homogeneous in all its parts ; 't is requir'd farther , that these Members should be , not contiguous as if they were cut off and clap'd together again , but uninterrupted and duly connected . Without this , the natural Members would not make up that Union , which is necessary to constitute a Body .

The Continuity and Situation of Episodes is not exact , when they only follow one another : but they should be plac'd one after another so as the first shall either be necessarily or probably the Cause of that which follows . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Poet. cap. 8. Aristotle finds fault with Incidents that are without any Consequence or Connexion ; and he says that the Poems , wherein such sorts of Episodes are , offend against the Vnity of Action . He brings , as an Instance of this Defect , the Wound which Vlysses receiv'd upon Parnassus , and the Folly he counterfeited before the Grecian Princes : because one of these Incidents could not have happen'd as a Consequence of the other ; Homer could not have given them a necessary Connexion and Continuity : nor has he spoil'd the Vnity of the Odysseïs by such a Mixture .

But he gives us a compleat Instance of the Continuity we speak of , in the Method whereby he has connected the two parts of his Iliad ; which are the Anger of Achilles against Agamemnon , and the Anger of the same Hero against Hector . The Poet would not have duly connected these two Episodes , if before the Death of Patroclus , Achilles had been less inexorable , and had accepted of the Satisfaction Agamemnon offer'd him . This would have made two Angers and two Revenges quite different from , and independent of one another . And though both had been necessary and essential to the Fable , to make it appear what Mischiefs Discord , and what Advantages Concord is the Cause of : Yet the Vnity would have been only in the Fable , but the Action would have been double and Episodical : because the first Episode would not have been the Cause of the second , nor the second a Consequence of the first .

These two parts of the Ilaid are joyn'd together very regularly . If Achilles had never fell out with Agamemnon , he would have fought in person , and not have expos'd his Friend singly against Hector , under those Arms that were the cause of this Young man's Rashness and Death . And besides , the better to joyn these two parts with one another , the second is begun a great while before one sees what Event the first ought to have . All the Articles of the Reconciliation are propos'd , and one might say , that this Reconciliation , with respect to Agamemnon , is made before the Death of Patroclus , and even before it was ever thought of exposing him to a Battel . There was nothing more wanting but Achilles's Consent : and since that was not given till the Death of Patroclus had made him resolve upon that of Hector ; it may be truly affirmed , that the Anger and the Revenge of Achilles against Hector , which is nothing else but the second part of the Poem , is the only cause of the Reconciliation , which finish'd the first part .

But for the Vnity of a Body , it is not enough that all its Members be natural , and duly united and compacted together ; 't is farther requisite , that each Member should be no more than a Member ; an imperfect Part , and not a finish'd compleat Body . This is the third Qualification we said was necessary to preserve the Vnity of the Epick Action .

For the better understanding of this Doctrine , we must take notice that an Action may be entire and compleat two ways : The first is , by perfectly compleating it , and making it absolutely entire with respect to the principal Persons that are interested therein , and in the principal Circumstances which are employ'd about it . The second way is by compleating it only with respect to some Persons , and in some Circumstances that are less principal . This second way preserves the Action in its regular Vnity , the other destroys it . We will give you an Instance of each .

The Greeks were assembled together to revenge the Affront offer'd to Menelaus , and to force the Trojans to restore him his Wife , whom Paris had stollen away . There happens a Difference between Agamemnon and Achilles . This last being highly incens'd , abandons the Common Cause , and withdraws himself ; so that in his Absence Agamemnon's Army was worsted by the Trojans . But the Boldness of the King of Kings puts him upon engaging the Enemy without Achilles . Away he marches to give them a general Assault with all his Forces .

The Fight began with the Duel between Menelaus and Paris . They sight without Seconds , upon Condition that Helen should be the Conquerour's ; and the War decided by this Combat . Tho' the Anger of Achilles was the Cause of this Combat , and whatever Interest he might have therein ; yet 't is plain , that Menelaus , Paris , and Helen are so far the principal Personages concern'd , that if this Action had been finished with respect to them , it would have been quite finish'd : it would not have made a part of the Action and of the Revenge of Achilles , but a compleat Action ; which would have put an End to the Revenge , and render'd the Anger of this Hero ineffectual . Therefore Homer has not finish'd this Action : Paris being hard put to it escapes , and Menelaus is wounded with a Dart by Pandarus ; by this means Achilles begins to be reveng'd , and this Incident becomes an exact Episode .

Virgil has manag'd the Episode of Dido another way . He has finish'd it so , that the Vnion of his main Action is as Regular as the Art of Poetry requires . The Address of this great Poet consists in ordering it so , that Dido , in whom this Incident is compleat , was not the chief Personage ; and her Marriage was only a simple Circumstance of an Action , that is not finish'd , and yet is the Soul and the only Foundation of this particular Action : in a word , Aeneas is the Hero of this Episode , which is only invented to retard the Settlement of this Hero in Italy .

This is manifest , if we would but reflect on what the Skill and Care of the Poet has left us about it . Juno , who carried on all this Intrigue , was very little concern'd for Dido's Happiness . If she had lov'd her so well , she should have diverted the Trojan Fleet from her Coasts ; upon which place she her self did cast them , * * Foelix , heu ! nimium foelix , si littora tantum , Nunquam Dardaniae tetigissent nostra carinae . Aeneid . 4. which was the only Cause of this Queens Miseries . When she proposes the Match to Venus with so much Ardency , 't was only the top of her Countenance . † † Sensit enim simulatâ mente locutam , Quo regnum Italiae Libycas averteret oras . Her whole Aim was to keep Aeneas in Africk , and to bestow on Carthage the Empire of the World , which belonged only to Italy , and depended upon the Stars of this Hero . You see then the only thing she drives at , the rest is only counterfeit , and a Means whereby she endeavours to accomplish this End .

Dido her self makes it appear how less considerable her Person is than that of Aeneas , and that she is only brought in to hinder the Designs of this Prince . 'T is she , that courts him , and would have him for her King , Husband , and Protector , against the Rage of her Brother and the Incursions of Iarbas . But she could only obtain a Marriage for a Month or so , as was customary now and then in those times . Aeneas tells her plainly , that the Name of Husband should be no Hinderance to his Departure , and his Designs for Italy : and he declares , that this Condition of not leaving Carthage was not in the Articles of their Alliance .

The more an Episode may seem to be a compleat Action , the more care should the Poet take to prepare the Reader 's mind , before he engages him in it . This is what Virgil did in the Episode we mentioned . All the beginning of the first Book does sufficiently inform the Reader , that the Stay of Aeneas at Carthage was only a hindrance and constraint which he was forced to submit to . The Poet is likewise obliged to repeat this Advertisement at the beginning of these Episodes ; that so the Reader may know to what the Poet engages him . Thus the Trojans were scarce got to Carthage , but they give out that their Design is for Italy . And before Dido made the least shew of her Designs upon Aeneas ; the Poet spends the second and third Books to inform us of this Hero's Design , and the necessity of his going to Italy , according to the Orders he received from the Oracles and the Gods . All this is declar'd in his Speech to Dido her self . To conclude , All this Episode is so full of this main Design , that the Poet is not willing we should lose the sight of it for a Moment . Therefore Aeneas is doubtless the Hero of this Episode : and we ought to look upon this Incident rather as an Obstacle laid to hinder the Settlement of the Trojans in Italy , as the History of Dido , in whom it is a compleat Action .

CHAP. VIII . Of the Faults which corrupt the Unity of the Action .

HOmer and Virgil have furnished us with Instances of an Exact Vnity , with the three Qualifications we requir'd . We must now enquire elsewhere for Instances of an Vnity that is corrupted by Episodes that are irregular all these three ways : that is , first such as are deriv'd from something else besides the Action ; secondly , such as have no Connexion with the rest of the Poem , nor with the Members and Parts , which are the Matter thereof ; and lastly , such as are compleat Actions , independent from the Subject . These vicious and superfluous Episodes may be met with not only in the Middle of the Poem , but at the Beginning and the End .

The Thebaid of Statius furnishes us with all these Instances , as his Achilleid has already afforded us an Instance of that false Vnity , which consists only in the Vnity of the Hero .

The unfortunate Oedipus had pluck'd out his own Eyes ; and banishing himself from Thebes , left the Government of it to Eteocles and Polynices , his two Sons . They order'd Matters so , that each of them , one after another , should Reign a whole Year by himself . But the eldest being in possession , when his time was out , refus'd to quit the Throne . Polynices , in his Exile , was so happy as to marry the Daughter of Adrastus King of Argos . This aged Prince takes Prince takes up the Quarrel , and with the Assistance of his Allies undertakes to settle Polynices on the Throne , and to out Eteocles . Upon this Thebes is beleaguer'd , and after several Skitmishes , this Difference was decided by the Duel and Death of the two Rival Brothers . This War between the two Theban Brothers , is the * * Fraternas acies alternaque regna prophanis Decertata odiis , sontesque evolvere Thebas , Picrius menti calor incidit . Theb. 1. Action our Poet would relate , and the Subject-Matter of the Thebaid .

But observe another Action , or rather another Story . The Goddess Venus is offended with the Inhabitants of Lemnos , because in all that Island she had neither Temple , Altar , nor Sacrifice . At first she puts the Men out of conceit with their Wives ; and then she makes the Women so mad , as to conspire the Death of all their Husbands . This Barbarous Resolution is most unmercifully put in Execution . Hypsipyle was the only Woman who had secretly saved her Father King Troas , and so ingeniously dissembles the having Murder'd him , that the rest confer the Kingdom upon her , as belonging to that Family .

A little after the Argonauts , going in quest of the Golden-Fleece , are forc'd by a Storm to call in and recruit themselves at Lemnos . They were very kindly entertain'd there , and the badness of the season gave Jason , the chief of these Hero's , an opportunity of leaving Hypsipyle big with Twins , before he put off to Sea .

She was scarce brought to bed , but 't was told her Subjects , that they had been cheated , and that King Troas was alive , and reign'd in the Isle of Chios , whither Hypsipyle had convey'd him , tho' she had pretended she had murder'd him . This made the Princess so odious , that fearing the fury of those Women she fled to the Sea-shore , where she was seiz'd on and carry'd off by Pirates . They bestow her on King Lyeurgus , who makes her the Nurse of his Son Archemorus .

The State of this Prince border'd upon Thebes , and lay in the Road the Army of Adrastus was to pass thither . The Greeks met with this famous Nurse as she was alone with her Nursery in a Wood. They were extreme thirsty , all the Wells being dry'd up by the scorching Seasons . They intreat her to give them some relief ; she grants their request , and brings them to a Fountain that never was drain'd . She was so forward , that to make the more hast to this wish'd for Stream , she eases her self of her precious burden with which she was intrusted , and leaves Archemorus all alone upon the Grass . She goes to quench the Grecians Thirst ; and then to satisfie the desire they had of knowing who she was , that had been the saving of them , she makes a large Recital of her own Life .

After she had made an end , and receiv'd the Compliments of Adrastus , she returns back to her Prince . But a frightful Serpent had kill'd him by a blow with his Tail . The Greeks kill the Serpent , and in honour of the Dead Prince make a splendid Funeral , and institute most magnificent sports , which take up a whole book of the Thebaid . The Recitals of Hypsipyle , and the Death of Archemorus fill up another .

These are foreign Episodes , and if they are Regular , I cannot imagine what use the Rules of Aristotle can be of in this business . But let us see whether these Incidents have so much as one single Qualification of those which I propos'd as necessary to the Vnity of the Action .

The first of these Qualifications is that an Episode be proper and drawn from the very Essence of the Fable and the Subject . It would be hard to invent an Adventure more foreign to the War of the Theban Brothers , than all this story of Lemnos . For what Affinity has the Anger of Venus , the butchering of the Lemnians , the Designs of the Argonauts , and the Amours of Jason and Hypsipyle , with the Quarrel between Eteocles and Polynices ? To make a mix'd medly of such various Incidents , is just like forming one of * * Humano capiticervicem pictor equinam Jungere si velit , & varias inducere plumas , Undique collatis membris , &c. Hor. Poet. Horace's Monsters : And never would a Woman's Head clap'd on to a Horse's Neck appear more Monstrous , than does this Hypsipyle tack'd to the War of Thebes appear in this Poem . This is the first and most Essential fault of this Episode .

The second is in the Connexion , which is not at all in the Thebaid , things being clap'd together without the least necessity or probability . For pray what part of the subject of the Thebaid is either the Cause , or the Effect of the Massacre at Lemnos ? Or of any of the Adventures of Jason ?

'T is true Hypsipyle makes this Recital to the Argives , as they were going to infest Thebes ; but there is a great deal of difference between connecting the Recital of an Action to something , and connecting the very Action to it . If for the Introducing a Narration into the Body of a Poem , and connecting it thereto , so as to make a just Episode of it , 't is enough that this Narration be made in the Presence of the Hero , by some body that has some Interest therein ; there would be no more need of Rules for the due Vniting of Episodes . For a Poet to fail of making this Vnion exactly , it would not be enough that he were Ignorant and Unskilful , but he should be something more ; he should be Malicious , and declare positively against all Connexions whatever . For without 't were so , he would not be easily inclined to stuff a whole book with the impertinent Description of a Story that was nothing to the purpose .

The sports of the sixth Book of Statius are no less irregular . There is nothing in the Action to give them the least Countenance . They have no reference to the War of Thebes , to the designs of the Argonauts , nor to the mad Practices of Lemnos . Nor is it a Consequence of the Stories of Hypsipyle ; but rather a Consequence of the Recital she made of these Stories . They are tack'd to her Recital at one end , and at the other to the March of the Grecians , without the least Necessity and Probability . And how could the fiery Tempers of Tydeus and Capaneus , and the hot Spirits of the other Commanders away with such languishing and Godly Amusements ; and by consequence so opposite to the very Soul of the Poem , which consists altogether in Violence and Impiety ?

'T is true the March of the Argives was the Cause of his Death for whom they instituted these sports : But that it should not have been ; and since this cause is no way necessary , and offends against all probability , 't is rather a fresh Fault , than any Excuse . Hypsipyle had so little a way to go from the place where she left her Prince , to that whither she conducted the Grecians ; that from thence * * Moriens vagitus in auras Excidit , & ruptis immutuit ore querelis , Qualia non totas peragunt insomnia voces . Audiit Hypsipyle . — she hears this Infant 's shrill cry , when Death had almost stop'd his Mouth . Therefore if she had had any concern for leaving Archemorus , she should not have staid from him a moment . But could not a Souldier have leave to pass a Compliment upon her for a few Minutes or so ? To conclude , who did ever know a Nurse so inconsiderate , as to leave her Child alone for several hours in the midst of a Forest , to the mercy of wild Beasts , expos'd to so many other Dangers ; and to leave him in this manner without a Guard , thô so many Thousands were at hand , to whom she had done such a singular piece of service ? How could so many Redoubted Princes endure this Unworthy and Foolish exposing of a Child without the least necessity for it ? But what signifies it ? Virgil had : his sports , and 't was but requisite Statius should have his too .

The third fault that may be committed against the Vnity of the Main Action , is to compleat an Action entirely , which should serve for an Episode . This is likewise one of the Conditions of the Story of Hypsipyle : Nothing is more compleat in all its Circumstances . It makes no part of any other Action : 'T is an entire Action , that has no dependance on any of the Theban Worthies , or the other Grecians of this Poem ; of whom not one has the least interest in what pass'd at Lemnos . Thus , the Vnity of the Action is entirely spoil'd in the Thebaid by this Adventure , the Recital whereof makes the Poem Episodical .

This fault of Statius is in the very midle of his Poem . It has cut the Action of it into two parts , most monstrously divided by this large Hiatus , which is so miserably fill'd up with foreign Members , or rather foreign Bodies . But , as I before hinted , these superfluities corrupt the Vnity as much when they are plac'd at the Beginning or End , as when they are in the Middle and Body of the Poem . Statius affords us instances of this kind of fault likewise .

Had he ‡ ‡ Limen mihi Carminis esto Oedipodae confusa domus . Theb. 1. begun the War of Thebes with the Incestuous Birth of Eteocles and Polynices , he would have imitated those , who began the War of Troy with the Birth of Helen , thô even that met with † † Nec gemino bellum Trojanum orditur ab Ovo . Hor. Poet. Horace's Censure . But ‡ ‡ Gentisque canam primordia dirae , Sidonios raptus , & inexorabile pactum Legis Agenoreae , scrutantemque aequora Cadmum . Stat. Theb. 1. he carries matters still higher , goes back as far as the first founding of Thebes , and opens his Poem with the Rape of Europa , which was the first Cause of building that City .

He ends just as he begun . The Quarrel of the two Brothers was manifestly decided by their Deaths , there remained no more difficulty , the Siege was rais'd , and all over . And when the Reader expects no more , the Poet , who has quite drained his Matter , gives us notice of his joyning another story thereto , which was the Consequence thereof , just as the Return of Vlysses is the Consequence of Hector's death , and the taking of Troy ; and as the Reign of Ascanius is the Consequence of the Establishment of Aeneas . Thebes has no longer the Argives but the Athenians for its Enemies ; 't is no longer defended by Eteocles , but by Creon ; and not assaulted by Polynices , but by Theseus . The Dispute is no longer about a Kingdom , but a Tyrant to be punished . 'T is no more a Siege but the taking of a City . And now no longer is Cruelty , Ambition , and Violence predominant there ; but Valour , Generosity , and Piety , which in the last Book destroy the Character of the whole Poem . So that the Action is quite Another , in the Cause , in the End , in the Persons , in the Manner , and in all the other Circumstances . These are the faults which manifestly spoil the Vnity of the Epick Action .

CHAP. IX . Of the Integrity of the Action

ARistotle not only says that the Epick Action should be One , but * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poetc . 23. he adds that it should be Entire , Perfect and Compleat : And for this purpose , it must have a Beginning , a Middle , and an End . Herein these Actions differ from those of Aesop's Fables ; for there is no necessity that these last should be Entire and Compleat . Witness the † † Forte per augustam tenuis Vulpecula rimam Repserat in cumeram frumenti : pastaque , rursus Ire foras pleno tendebat corpore frustra : Cui Mustela procul : si vis ait effugere isthinc , Macra cavum repetes arctum , quem macra subisti . Hor. Lib. 1. Ep. 7. Fable of the meager hunger-starved Fox , who convey'd himself thro a very small hole into a Granary full of Corn. When he had cram'd his Guts , he was for marching the same way out again : but he found himself too Corpulent . A Weezel at a distance seeing him in such a quandary tells him , he came empty in , and must go as empty out . Now there 's no necessity of finishing this Action . Reynard is very regularly left in this place without telling what happened to him afterwards ; and without troubling ones head , whether he was kill'd upon the spot ; or pinched his Guts to save his Carcass , or whether he escaped at some other Hole . This Action then is not a Whole , because it has only a Beginning and Middle , but not an End .

These three parts of a Whole are too Generally and Universally denoted by the Words , Beginning , Middle , and End : We may interpret them more precisely , and say , That the Causes and Designs which one takes for doing an Action are the Beginning of this Action ; That the Effects of these Causes , and the Difficulties that are met with in the Execution of these Designs are the Middle of it ; and that the Unraveling and Resolution of these Difficulties are the End of the Action .

This End , and this Unravelling may happen after different ways , and so form several sorts of Actions . For sometimes the Action ends by the discovery of some person , who was unknown before , as in the Tragedy of Oedipus . This Prince thought himself the Son of Polybus and Meropa , King and Queen of Corinth : And he discovers himself to be a Theban , the Son of Laius and Jocasta . Sometimes without any Discovery , there is a great change of Fortune in some person or other , who thinking himself happy , all on a sudden falls into a Misery he never dream'd of ; or else on the contrary , becomes from a miserable , a very happy person beyond all Expectation . The first of these was Agamemnon's Case after the Ruine of Troy , who thinking himself in quiet Possession of his acquired Glory was miserably butchered by his Wife . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. c. 11. These Changes or Alterations from one kind of Fortune to the Contrary are called by a Greek Name Peripetias .

Sometimes likewise there is neither a Discovery nor a Peripetia ; but the Action ceases , and passes , if I may so say , from Motion to Rest after a simple Manner , without any Incident , but such as might be expected in the Ordinary course of Affairs . Thus in the Troad of Seneca , Hecuba and the Trojans appear at first as in Captivity , and under a long series of Afflictions , which made them complain with their Tongues , and despair in their Hearts . The Ghost of Achilles requires Polixena should be Sacrificed to him , and before they part , Calchas would make them kill Astyanax too . Both are put in Execution , and so the Tragedy ends .

* * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 17. These different ways make two sorts of Action or Fable : The One Simple , the Other Complex . The Simple Actions are such as End without a Discovery and a Peripetia ; The Complex have either a Discovery , or a Perpetia , or Both.

The Integrity of the Action comprehends all these things : Let us now take a particular View of them .

CHAP. X. That the Action ought to be a Whole .

THis Proposition seems contrary to what Aristotle teaches us , when he says , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. c. 23. That the War of Troy is a just and perfect Whole ; That Homer has taken but a part of it . That therein he was very Judicious ; and that those who instead of Imitating him , have taken this Whole for the Subject of their Poems , have taken too much Matter , and have been very indifferent Artists . Does he pretend by this Doctrine , and by these Instances to overthrow what we have cited out of that very treatise of Poetry ? Would he teach us that the Subject and Matter of a Poem ought not to be a Whole , and an Entire and Compleat Action , but only a part of an Action ? Sure 't is not likely he should contradict himself thus .

We may reconcile this , that appears so contradictory in the Terms , by making this Reflection : That one and the same Action may be consider'd as in the Fable , where the Poet makes use of it ; or else as in the History , whence he took it . When the Poet is upon the search after Matter for his Fable , he lights upon several sorts of Actions . Some have several parts which may be regularly connected in one Body ; and then he may take one of these Actions , entire as it is . But there are others whose parts are so independent to one another , that a Man cannot with any probability joyn them together so as they shall seem to be the Causes and the Consequences of each other . And this is what Aristotle condemns under the Name of Many-limb'd Fables . To which he opposes those which have but one only part .

He does not absolutely forbid the Multiplicity of Parts ; but he commonly takes such sorts of Words in the worst Sense , which might of themselves be understood in a more favourable one . Thus we observ'd , that he condemned the vicious Plurality of Fables and Episodes , under the Terms of Polymythia , and Episodical , altho' a Man may lawfully put several Fables into a Poem , and there is none but has several Episodes in it .

Therefore 't is in this Sence that he condemns the Plurality of the Parts in an Epick Action . We are not to suppose that he condemns it absolutely , and that this Action made use of cannot be a Whole . He explains his own meaning sufficiently in the following Words . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 8. As , says he , in other Imitations , that which a Man Imitates is one single thing : So likewise , The Fable being the Imitation of an Action , 't is requisite that this Action be One , Entire , and a Whole , and that the parts be so joyn'd to , and dependent on each other , that one cannot so much as remove any one out of its Place , either to transpose , or retrench it quite , without making a Change in the whole . For whatever can be so placed or omitted , that one cannot perceive the Alteration , can by no means be a part of the Action . So then , 't is only the Plurality of parts in this last Sence which Aristotle condemns . And he has commended Homer for having taken only a Part of all that passed in the Trojan War .

But yet we are to take special notice that this Retrenchment of all the other parts does not hinder the Anger of Achilles , which is only retain'd , from being a Whole in the Poem . 'T is only a Part with respect to the whole War , and in the History whence Homer took it : But 't is an Entire and Compleat Whole in the Fable and Poem , which Homer has made of it . You see then how these opposite Expressions of Aristotle are easily reconciled in their meaning . The Poet may take out of History an Entire Action , or but a Part of one : but still he must put in his Poem an entire Action , and not a Part only . The Disposition of his Matter regulates this Point , and makes a regular Whole of whatever he shall have met with and made choice of . He must make use thereof Variously , according to the Historical Plurality , or Singularity of the Parts , so as to make thereof the Subject of his Poem .

When he takes an Entire Action , as Homer has done for his Odysseïs , and Virgil for the Aeneid ; there is nothing to be adjusted , nor any measure to be taken to make this Action appear a Whole , and not the Part of another Action . The Reader is already instructed by History , and is in little danger of being mistaken therein . 'T is enough that the Poet tell wherein his Action consists , without saying wherein it does not . Homer proposes the Return of Vlysses , who after the Destruction of Troy , came back again to his own Country : Virgil proposes the Change of a State which is ruin'd at Troy , and re-established in Italy by Aeneas . Each of these Adventures have the Conditions of a Whole as well in the History whence they were taken , as in the Fables where they are made use of .

But when the Poet chuses only a Part , and out of this Historical Part makes a whole in his Fable ; he must take care to give his Readers notice of it , for fear that they , applying the knowledge they have of the History to what they Read in the Poem , should blame the Author , as if he had said but little on his Subject , or rather had ill managed his design , having only described an imperfect Action .

The Poet 's not knowing how to change a Part into a Whole , has perhaps contributed very much to the fault of those Men , whom Aristotle blames for having loaded themselves with too much matter . But the Knowledge Homer had of this Secret , and his Skill in practising it , has made him merit those Praises which Aristotle gives him . He does not only tell us in his Iliad that the Anger of Achilles is his Subject ; but besides that , in express Words he excludes the other parts of the Trojan War . To do this after a Poetical and more Artificial Manner , he makes use of the very Hero's person , whose Action and Design he Sings . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 , &c. Iliad. 1. I am not come hither ( says Achilles ) to wage War against the Trojans ; I have nothing to do with them , they have done me no wrong : my design was to maintain the Honour of Agamemnon and Menelaus . But since Agamemnon offers an Injury to my Honour , I renounce that Design , and shall only take care to revenge my self , &c. You may see by this what is the Design of the Iliad , and what is not .

Besides , the Poet has given neither a Beginning nor an End to the Siege of Troy : Nay there is scarce a Middle that is proper to it . For tho' Jupiter sends Agamemnon to Assault the Town , yet 't is not with a Design it should be taken , as this Abused Prince imagin'd : But only to be punish'd by the Trojan Arms for the Affront he had put upon Achilles , and to satisfie the Anger , and the Revenge of this Hero .

On the other hand , all the parts of this Anger , that are requisite to make it a Whole , are very Conspicuous . It has its Beginning , its Causes , its Effects , and its End . This is what the Poet continues to make out as he had begun ; that is , in the Person of his Hero . Achilles is not reconcil'd with Agamemnon with a Design to revenge all Greece upon Troy , or Menelaus upon Paris : As long as nothing else was on foot he was inexorable . But Hector kills Patroclus ; then he is reconcil'd , that he may revenge his own particular injury upon Hector alone . Thô he is the Death of other Trojans , yet 't is only because he meets not with Hector himself : 'T is to fight his way through to this particular Enemy ; 't is because those he kills are his Relations , or his Souldiers ; just as before he reveng'd himself on all the Grecians , for the Affront which Agamemnon alone had put upon him .

As soon as he could meet with Hector , he * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Iliad . charges all the other Greeks to stand off , and would not let them interpose their Quarrel with his . After he had kill'd him , he never pushes on the Advantage which Hector's Death had given him over the Trojans , who were stupified at this disaster , and dejected at so great a loss . He had nothing more to say to 'em , called off the Gracians to the Obsequies of Patroclus , and vents the rest of his fury by insulting over the Dead Corps of his Enemy .

Lastly , being mov'd at Priam's tears , he Restores the body to him , and grants him a Truce for twelve days to perform the Funeral Solemnities . And that we might not look upon the Death of Hector as the End of the War ; the Poet is so far from making the least shew of the Trojans being inclin'd to a Peace , or a Surrender , that he makes Priam say expresly , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Iliad. 24. That when the Truce was over , they would be for fighting again upon the twelfth day . If this twelfth day had come , and a Battle ensu'd , then the Anger and the particular Interest of Achilles being at an End , these Battles would have been really a Part of the Trojan War , and of the Common Cause . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Lin. ult. Poemat . Homer to prevent this Irregularity has finish'd his Poem together with the Truce and the Funeral of Hector , before the Fight or the Skirmishes were renew'd .

Could there be any greater Demonstration , that the Trojan War had nothing to do with all this , and that the Subject of this Poem is not a Part of this War in the Iliad : But that 't is a Whole , Entire , and Compleat Action , that has no dependence on the taking of this City ?

To conclude , we must not confound the Action with the Fable ; nor the Design of the Hero in the Action he does , with the Design of the Poet in the Allegory , and in the Moral he teaches . 'T is well known that a Wolf devouring a Lamb has no design to give us the Instructions which Aesop has drawn from it .

CHAP. XI . Of the Beginning , Middle and End of the Action .

THE Poet should so begin his Action , that on one hand nothing should be farther wanting for the understanding of what one reads ; and on the other hand , that what we read require after it a necessary Consequence . He should end after the same manner , with these two Conditions transposed ; the One , that nothing more be expected ; and the Other , that what is put at the End of the Action be only a necessary Consequence of some thing which ought to have went before . Lastly , the Beginning must be joined to the End by a Middle that makes no Interval , but which is in it self neither the Beginning nor the End . This Middle must be the effect of something that went before , and the Cause of some other thing that is to come after .

* * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. c. 7. This makes three parts , each of which taken singly is imperfect , and always supposes One or both of the Other . The Beginning supposes nothing before it self , and requires something after it : On the contrary , the End requires nothing after it self , but supposes something that goes before : And the Middle supposes something that went before , and requires something to follow after . We will explain this Doctrine of Aristotle by the Instances we produced .

Eteocles and Polynices were equally the Sons and Heirs of Oëdipus King of Thebes . They made a Contract to reign a Year by turns . Eteocles began , and his Year expired , refuses to quit his Throne to his Brother . Polynices meets with Assistance at Argos , and comes to dispute his Title at the Head of an Army . This is an exact Beginning . It requires a Consequence , but not any thing antecedent thereto . Therefore 't was irregularly done to place before this Beginning the Recital of whatever happened from the founding of Thebes , and the Rape of Europa down to that time .

The Quarrel of these two Brothers ended with their Deaths : which is an exact End ? The Reader does not desire one should relate what becomes of Creon the Successor of Eteocles . Therefore Statius is in the wrong , when he makes That a Part of his Poem .

He was no less to blame for putting in the Middle of his Poem the Story of Hypsipyle . For this Narration has no dependance on the Theban Action , and supposes nothing before it , and requires nothing after it ; and by consequence this Action is neither the Middle , nor any other Part of the Quarrel between the two Brothers , or of the Subject of the Poem . These are Examples to be avoided ; now we will produce such as are to be imitated .

Homer's Design in the Iliad is to relate the Anger and Revenge of Achilles . The Beginning of this Action is the change of Achilles from a Calm to a Passionate Temper . The Middle is the Effects of his Passion , and all the Illustrious Deaths it is the Cause of . The End of this same Action is the Return of Achilles to his Calmness of Temper again All was quiet in the Graecian Camp , when Agamemnon their General provokes Apollo against them , whom he was willing to appease afterwards at the cost and prejudice of Achilles , who had nothing to do with his Fault . This then is an exact Beginning ; it supposes nothing before , and requires after it the Effects of this Anger . Achilles revenges himself , and that is an exact Middle ; it supposes before the Beginning of the Anger of Achilles , who is provoked . This Revenge is the Effect of it . Then this Middle requires after it the Effect of this Revenge , which is the satisfaction of Achilles ; for the Revenge had not been compleat , unless Achilles had been satisfied . By this means , the Poet makes his Hero , after he was glutted , as I may so say , by the mischief he had done to Agamemnon , by the Death of Hector , and the Honour he did his Friend , by insulting o'er his Murderer ; he makes him , I say , to be moved by the Tears and Misfortunes of King Priam. We see him as calm at the End of the Poem , during the Funeral of Hector , as he was at the Beginning of the Poem , whilst the Plague raged among the Graecians . This End is just , since the Calmness of Temper Achilles re-enjoy'd , is only an Effect of the Revenge which ought to have went before ; and after this no body expects any more of his Anger . Thus has Homer been very exact in the Beginning , Middle and End of the Action he made choice of for the Subject of his Iliad .

His Design in the Odysseis was to describe the Return of Vlysses from the Ruin of Troy , and his Arrival at Ithaea . He opens this Poem with the Complaints of Minerva against Neptune , who opposed the Return of this Hero , and against Calypso , who detained him in an Island far from Ithaca . Is this a Beginning ? No ; doubtless 't is not . The Reader would fain know why Neptune is displeased with Vlysses , and how this Prince came to be with Calypso . He has a mind to know how he came from Troy thither . The Poet answers his Demands out of the Mouth of Vlysses himself , who relates these things , and begins the Action by the recital of his Travels from the City of Troy . It signifies little whether the Beginning of the Action be the Beginning of the Poem , as we shall take notice in the following Book , where we shall treat expresly of the Order our Poets have observed in their Narrations . The Beginning of this Action then is that which happens to Vlysses , when upon his leaving of Troy he bends his Course for Ithaca . The Middle comprehends all the Misfortunes he endured , and all the Disorders of his own Government . The End is there instanting of this Hero in the peaceable Possession of his Kingdom , where he discovers himself to his Son , his Wife , his Father , and several others . The Poet was sensible he should have ended ill , had he went no farther than the Death of these Princes , who were the Rivals and Enemies of Vlysses , because the Reader might have looked for some Revenge which the Subjects of these Princes might have taken on him , who had kill'd their Sovereigns : But this Danger over , and these People vanquished and quieted , there was nothing more to be expected . The Poem and the Action have all their Parts and no more .

The Order of the Odysseis differs from that of the Iliad , in that the Poem does not begin with the Beginning of the Action . That of the Aeneid is still more different , since the very End of the Poem is not the End of the Action of Aeneis . But we shall say no more of this at present .

The Design of Virgil is to conduct Aeneas into Italy , there to establish his Gods and Religion , and lay the Foundations of the Roman Empire . There is this difference between the Return of Vlysses , and the Voyage of Aeneas , that no one ever questions why a Man returns to his own Country : Though Homer had made no mention of the natural Affection he bore to his Country , yet the Readers would never have fell out with him for this Omission . This is a well known Cause ; 't is neither an Action , of which one ought to make a Narration , nor a thing which precedes this Return . But Aeneas acts contrary to this natural Affection ; he abandons his own Country , to go in search after a strange Land . The Reader then would have the Poet tell him why this Hero leaves Troy . Besides Vlysses was born a King , but Aeneas was not . So that the embarking of Vlysses is sufficiently the Beginning of the Odysseïs : But the embarking of Aeneas from Troy , on Board the Admiral of a Fleet of Twenty Sail ; cannot be the Beginning of the Action of Aeneas . Aeneas abandons Troy , because it was taken by the Greeks : and is King of the Trojans , because Priam was dead , and he elected in his room .

But if the taking of Troy be the Consequence of a ten Year's Siege , should not this War have been related as the necessary Cause of the taking and ruine thereof ? This is what the Poet has admirably provided for by bringing it about , that neither the War , nor the long and tedious Siege , should be the Cause of the taking of this City . * * Fracti bello , fatisque repulsi Ductores Danaum tot jam labentibus annis . Aeneid . l. 2. Therefore he says at first , that the Greeks were worsted , that they utterly despaired of being Masters of the City by any of those Measures they had hitherto taken ; and that so many Years spent in the War was but so much time lost . So that the Taking of Troy depends not upon any thing that went before . The Greeks form another Design , which is an exact Beginning of an Action ; for it supposes nothing before it . The Poet gives it likewise the other Qualification of a Beginning , which is the requiring Something after it . Before ever the Grecians became Masters of the City , and before ever King Priam was kill'd , Aeneas is destin'd to re-establish a more noble Religion , and a more illustrious Empire elsewhere . Wherefore the Burning of Troy is not an entire Action , nor the Downfall of an Empire , but the Cause and the first Part of the Alteration of a State ; and it requires a new Establishment to succeed it .

The Shipping off of Aeneas , his Voyages , his Battels , and all the Obstacles he met with , compose a just Middle ; they are a Consequence of the Destruction of Troy , and of the Choice they made of him to transport them into Italy ; and these same Incidents require an End .

The End comprehends the Death of Amata , that of Turnus , the Change of Juno's Mind , and the Terms of the Peace , which contain'd all that Aeneas pretended to for his Establishment .

But for the better judging of the Vnity and Integrity of the Action ( of which we have already spoke ) we must add , that there are two sorts of Designs : The first sort have no manner of Consequence , but end with the Action ; the others , beside the Action , have likewise some necessary Consequences : And in this last Case these Consequences must be related , if one would have the Poem be as Entire and as Compleat as it ought to be . Our Poets furnish us with Instances of both these Designs .

The Anger and Revenge of a Man requires necessarily nothing more after it : when it is satisfied and over , all is at an end . When Achilles was reveng'd , when he had receiv'd Satisfaction for the Affront put upon him , and when he was once quiet , a Man never enquires what becomes of him afterwards . 'T is the same case with the Return of a Prince into his own Country : when he is come thither , has put an End to those Disorders which his Absence had caused , and enjoys Peace again , the Reader is satisfied . Nor has Homer made any Episode that has transgressed these Bounds .

Virgil's Practice has been otherwise , because he undertook a Design of another Nature . The Establishment of any State does of necessity draw great Consequences after it . If the Poet had taken them all for his Action , it would have been of a monstrous Extent , because the Roman Government was not fully settled till after the Ruin of Carthage , which had so long disputed with it for Empire and Liberty : and this very State arrived not to its Grandeur and Perfection till under Augustus , who was its last , as Aeneas was its first , Founder . Therefore Virgil has not taken this for the Matter of his Poem ; but † † Super & Garamantas & Indos Proferet Imperium ; jacet ex via Sydera tellus , &c. Aen. 6. he relates it by such Recitals as Homer makes use of in his Odysseïs , when he tells us of the Wound Vlysses receiv'd on the top of Parnassus . Upon this Account we observed , that the Poet may relate such Incidents as were necessary to the Matter of his Poem , but which notwithstanding were not the Matter thereof . 'T is thus that Virgil practices in the Machines , making Jupiter in the first , and Anchises in the sixth Book , to make these Prophetical Recitals .

There is something still more Noble in the Episode of Dido , where by an Allegory and a Conduct , which one can never sufficiently admire , he brings into the Body of his Action all the succeeding History of Carthage ; and this so naturally too , that one would think the Poet should have made Dido say and act , just as she did , though there had never been any Quarrel between these two States , and though there had never been such a Man as Hannibal .

CHAP. XII . Of the Causes of the Action .

AN Historian does not make his Subject-Matter himself , he speaks nothing but what he knows ; and in the Conduct of a State , we often see Effects , whose Causes are never known . Those who act in it , keep all things in private ; and the more they do so , the greater * * Qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare . Politicians are they accounted . So that on one side the Historian is obliged to declare all the Causes he knows , because these Circumstances are very instructive : but on the other hand , he is justly dispensed from relating several Causes , because he cannot come to any Knowledge of them .

A Poet has the same Reasons to tell all the Causes of his Action , and he is likewise more oblig'd to it than an Historian , since 't is more proper and essential for Poetry to instruct , than 't is for History . But the Poet has not the same Reasons to excuse his Omission of any Cause whatever . He makes his Matter himself , and if he takes any thing from History , 't is but so far as History suits thereto . He must feign whatever is not there , or else change what is not suited to his purpose . If 't is propose that some Things may lie concealed from him , because no Man can know every thing ; he then is instructed by the Gods who do know every thing . Virgil is my Warrant in the Case before us , † † Musa , mihi causas memora . Aeneid . 1. he invokes a Deity , that he may come to the Knowledge of the Causes of his Action : and he relates such things , as he could never know but by Revelation ; since he says they happen'd to Dido alone , and which she never made any one , no not so much as her Sister , acquainted with . Thus is the Poet oblig'd to tell all the Causes not only that he may instruct , as we hinted before , but likewise that he may please ; for without doubt this is very grateful .

There are three sorts of Causes ; some are more general and undetermin'd , such as the Humours of any one ; for 't is upon Humour that every one commonly regulates his Conduct , and acts upon Occasion . Others are more precise , such as the Interests of those that Act. And lastly , there are others which are more immediate , such as the Designs which one takes to promote or hinder any thing . These different Causes of an Action are likewise frequently the Causes of one another : every one taking up those Interests , which his Humour engages him in , and forming such Designs as his Humour and Interest prompt him to .

The Humours and the Inclinations belong to the Doctrine of the Morals , which we shall treat of particularly in the fourth Book . We only joyn them here to the two other Causes we mention'd ; and of all three we affirm this in general , That the Poet ought to inform his Readers of them , and make them conspicuous in his principal Personages , when he introduces them , or even before he makes them appear .

Homer has ingeniously begun his Odysseïs with the Transactions at Ithaca during the Absence of Vlysses . If he had begun with the Travels of his Hero , he would scarce have spoken of any one else , and a Man might have read a great deal of the Poem without conceiving the least Idea of Telemachus , Penelope , or her Suitors , who had so great a share in the Action . But in the Beginning he has pitch'd upon , besides these Personages , whom he discovers , he represents Vlysses in his full Length . And from the very first Opening of the Action , one sees the Interest which the Gods had therein .

The Skill and Care of the same Poet may be seen likewise in introducing his Personages in the first Book of his Iliad ; where he discovers the Humour , the Interests , and the Designs of Agamemnon , Achilles , Nestor , Vlysses , and several others , nay , and of the Gods too . And in his second Book he makes a Review of the Grecian and Trojan Armies ; which is full evidence , that all we have here said is very necessary .

But lastly , Since the Epick Poem is doubtless much longer than the Dramatick ; and since 't is easier to manage the Incidents and the Presence of the Personages in that than in the other : one is not obliged to introduce all of them at the Beginning of the Epopéa with as much Exactness , as in the first Act of a Theatral Piece , where at least one is obliged to give some Item of all those who have any considerable part in the Intrigue .

I mention this upon the Account of Virgil's Practice . He has been less exact than the Greek Poet ; for he says nothing of Turnus , Latinus , Amata , and other Italians , till the middle of his Poem . But 't is true likewise , that he has so disposed his Action as seems to justifie this Delay . He has divided the Aeneid into two parts more sensibly than Homer has his Iliad and Odysseïs . He not only makes this Division at the first , and in his Proposition , by saying that * * Multum ille & terris jactatus & alto : Multa quoque & bello passus . Aeneid . 1. Aeneas suffer'd much when he was toss'd about from this Sea to that , and from one Province to another ; and suffer'd also a great deal more in the Wars he was engag'd in : but he likewise , when he begins his second Part , advertises his Reader of it , and † † Major return mihi nascitur ordo , Majus opus moveo . Aeneid . 8. proposes the things he is about to mention , as all new , and quite of another Make from the former . Thus in the first Book he introduces the principal Personages of his first part ; and he only speaks of those , who were to appear afresh in the second Part , in his sixth , seventh , and eighth Books . And here , in my mind , he was less fortunate than the Greek Poet.

Besides these more general Causes of the Action and of the main Intrigues ; there are still some Incidents , and some Episodes more particular , of which the Poet must give an Account . This happens commonly not in the Beginning of the Action , but only when the Poet is about to make one of his lesser Recitals . The Reader could not guess , how the Wound of Vlysses came , which discover'd him to his Friends ; not why Camilla should be in love with War ; nor how it came to pass that Aeneas met with several Persons in the Shades below , who were to come into the World many Ages after , &c. Therefore the Poet must tell him the Causes of all this .

These Causes must be good , and suitable to the Subject . All the Action of the Iliad is founded upon the Anger of Achilles . The Cause of this Anger is the Displeasure Apollo conceiv'd against Agamemnon ; because Agamemnon likewise in his Anger had affronted the Priest of this God . All these Passions have probable Causes , and such as are suitable to the General Subject of the Trojan War . For as this General Cause is Heten's being ravish'd from Menelaus ; so the other Causes are of the same Nature . Chryseïs is ravish'd from her Father , and Briseïs from Achilles . In short , all are stamp'd with the same Character of Injustice and Violence in these Heroes .

If the Hero be a Man of Probity , the Causes of all his Designs should be just and commendable , as those in the Odysseïs and the Aeneid : And the Causes of the Persecution he meets with , must not lessen the Esteem which the Poet would raise of his Probity . Neptune persecutes Vlysses , because Vlysses had blinded his Son Polypheme . But this Monster had already devour'd six of the Comerades of Vlysses , and was just upon serving Vlysses himself and the rest the same Trick . Aeneas makes a more particular Profession of his Piety , and accordingly Virgil uses him more honourably . The Causes Juno had to persecute him , did either not touch his Person , or else were much to his Glory ; since the only one which concern'd him , was the Choice which Fate made of him to lay in Italy the Foundation of the Empire of the World . * * Liceat Phrygio servire marito , Dotalisque tuae Tyrios permittere dextrae . Aen. 4. Juno is so far from having any scornful or hateful Thoughts for this Hero's Person , that she was willing to trust him with all that was most dear to her on Earth , and make him Lord over her own Carthage . She could never have given a more considerable Token of her Love and Esteem for any Man .

CHAP. XIII . Of the Intrigue , and the Vnravelling thereof .

IN what was said about the Causes of the Action , one might have observ'd two opposite Designs . The first and most principal is that of the Hero : The second comprehends all their Designs , that oppose the Pretensions of the Hero . These Opposite Causes produce likewise Opposite Effects ; viz. the Endeavours of the Hero for the accomplishing his Design , and the Endeavours of those who are against it . As these Causes and Designs are the Beginning of the Action ; so these contrary Endeavours are the Middle of it , and form a Difficulty and Intrigue , which makes up the greatest part of the Poem . It lasts as long as the Reader 's Mind is in suspense about the Event of these contrary Endeavours . The Solution or the Vnravelling begins , when one begins to see the Difficulty remov'd , and the Doubts clear'd up .

Our Poets have divided each of their three Poems into two Parts , and have put a particular Intrigue , and the Solution of it in each Part.

The first Part of the Iliad is the Anger of Achilles , who is for revenging himself upon Agamemnon by the means of Hector and the Trojans . The Intrigue comprehends the three Days Fight which happen'd in the Absence of Achilles : and it consists on one side in the Resistance of Agamemnon and the Grecians ; and on the other , in the revengeful and inexorable Humour of Achilles , which would not suffer him to be reconcil'd . The Loss of the Grecians , and the Despair of Agamemnon , prepare for a Solution by the Satisfaction which the incens'd Hero receiv'd from it . The Death of Patroclus joyn'd to the Offers of Agamemnon , which alone had proved ineffectual , remove this Difficulty , and make the Unravelling of the first Part.

This Death is likewise the Beginning of the second Part ; since it puts Achilles upon the Design of revenging himself on Hector . But the Design of Hector is opposite to that of Achilles : This Trojan Hero is Valiant , and resolved to stand in his own Defence . This Valour and Resolution of Hector , are on his Account the Cause of the Intrigue . All the Endeavours Achilles used to meet with Hector , and be the Death of him ; and the contrary Endeavours of the Trojan to keep out of his Reach and defend himself , are the Intrigue : which comprehends the Battel of the last Day . The Vnravelling begins at the Death of Hector ; and besides that , it contains the insulting of Achilles over his Body , the Honours he paid to Patroclus , and the Intreaties of King Priam. The Regrets of this King , and the other Trojans in the sorrowful Obsequies they paid to Hector's Body end the Vnravelling ; they justifie the Satisfaction of Achilles , and demonstrate his Tranquillity .

The first part of the Odysseïs is the Return of Vlysses into Ithaca . Neptune opposes it by raising Tempests , and this makes the Intrigue . The Vnravelling is the Arrival of Vlysses upon his own Island , where Neptune could offer him no farther Injury . The second Part , is the re-instating this Hero in his own Government . The Princes , that are his Rivals , oppose him , and this is a fresh Intrigue . The Solution thereof begins at their Deaths , and is compleated as soon as the Ithacans were appeased .

These two parts in the Odysseïs have not one common Intrigue , as is to be observed in the two other Poems . The Anger of Achilles forms both the Intrigues in the Iliad ; and it is so far the Matter of this Epopéa , that the very Beginning and End of this Poem depend on the Beginning and End of this Anger . But let the Desire Achilles had to revenge himself , and the Desire Vlysses had to return to his own Country be never so near a-kin : yet we cannot place them under one and the same Notion : For the Love of Vlysses is not a Passion that Begins and Ends in the Poem with the Action ; 't is a natural Habit , nor does the Poet propose it for his Subject , as he does the Anger of Achilles .

Virgil has divided his Poem as Homer did his Odysseïs . The first Part is the Voyage and Arrival of Aeneas in Italy ; the second is his Establishment there . But he has connected these two great Episodes better by giving them a Common Intrigue . He did not take for his first Intrigue a Deity , who could act no where but by Sea , as Neptune : but * * Nec Teneris addita Juno Unquam aberit . Aeneid . 6. makes Choice of Juno , the Goddess of the Air , who had an equal Power over Sea and Land . She opposed the Voyage of this Hero , and 't is she likewise that opposes his Settlement . This Opposition then is the General Intrigue of the whole Action . The Solution is over when † † Annuit his Juno & mentem laetata retorsit . Aeneid . 12. Juno is appeas'd by Jupiter .

The principal Intrigue of the first Part , is the Design of Dido , and the Endeavours she used to keep Aeneas still at Carthage . The Complaints of Iarbas , the Orders Mercury brought Aeneas to be gone , and the re-fitting of the Trojan Fleet , are Preparations for the Vnravelling , which begins at the Departure of Aeneas , when he ‡ ‡ Vaginaque eripit ensem Fulmineum , strictoque ferit retinacula Ferro . Aen. 4. cut the Cables which held his Ships at Anchor .

Dido might have done more Mischief to Aeneas , either by pursuing him as an Enemy to be reveng'd on him , or by following him as his Wife . And though she stay'd still at Africk , whatever Liberty Men had in those days of putting away one Wife and marrying another , yet the Poet had made him too honest a Man than to allow him two Wives living at the same time . Let Cases stand how they would , yet Aeneas had reason to be afraid of Dido , and to apply the Prophecy of Sibyl to himself , * * Causa mali tanti conjux iterum hospita Teucris , Externique iterum thalami . Aeneid . 6. which said , that the Cause of the Misfortunes he was to suffer should be another foreign Wife , that should entertain the Trojans , and be ravish'd from another Man's Bed . Upon this Account she must needs die , and Aeneas be certified of her Death . So that this Vnravelling is not compleat till the sixth Book , † † Infelix Dido , verus mihi nuncius ergo Venerat extinctam ferroque extrema sequutam . Aeneid . 6. where Aeneas meets with the Ghost of this unhappy Queen in the Shades below .

The Intrigue of the second Part is form'd out of the Love and Ambition of Turnus , who was countenanc'd by the Authority and Passion of the Queen Amata . The Articles of Peace which are propos'd in the Eleventh Book , and which are sworn to in the Twelfth , prepare for the Vnravelling . The Death of Amata begins , and the Death of Turnus finishes it .

After what has been said of the principal Intrigues , the rest are easily discern'd : there are almost as many as there are great and small Episodes .

CHAP. XIV . The Way of forming the Plot or Intrigue .

WE have already observ'd what is meant by the Intrigue , and the Vnravelling thereof ; let us now say something of the manner of forming both : and this we shall meet with in the Practice of our Poets ; which tells us that these two things should arise naturally out of the very Essence and Subject of the Poem , and that they are to be deduced thence . Their Conduct is so exact and natural , that it seems as if their Action had presented them with whatever they inserted therein , without putting themselves to the Trouble of a farther Enquiry .

What is more Usual and Proper among Warriours , than Anger , Heat , Passion , and Impatience of bearing the least Affronts and Disrespects ? This is what forms the Intrigue of the Iliad : and every thing we read there , is nothing else but the Effect of this Humour , and these Passions .

What more Natural and Usual Obstacle do they who take Voyages meet with than the Sea , the Winds , and the Storms ? Homer makes this the Intrigue of the first part of the Odysseïs : and for the second , he makes use of the almost infallible Effect of the long Absence of a Master , whose Return is quite despair'd of ; viz. the Insolence of his Servants and Neighbours ; the Danger his Son and Wife were in ; and the Sequestration of his Estate . Besides , an Absence of almost 20 Years , and the insupportable Fatigues joyn'd to the Age Vlysses was then of , might induce him to believe that he should not be own'd by those that thought him dead , and whose Interest it was to have him be really so . Therefore if he had presently declar'd who he was , and had call'd himself Vlysses , they would easily have made away with him as an Impostor , before he had had Opportunity to make himself known to them .

There could be nothing more Natural , nor more Necessary , than this ingenious Disguise , to which the Advantages which his Enemies had taken of his Absence had reduc'd him , and to which his long Misfortunes had inur'd him . This allow'd him an Opportunity , without hazarding any thing , of taking the best Measures he could against those Persons who could not so much as mistrust any harm from him . This Way then was afforded him by the very Nature of his Action , that he might execute his Designs , and overcome the mighty Obstacles it presented him with : And 't is this Contest between the Prudence and the Dissimulation of a single Man on one hand , and the ungovernable Insolence of so many Rivals on the other , which makes up the Intrigue of the second Part of the Odysseïs .

The Conduct of the Latin Poet , in the Intrigues he forms , has the same Simplicity . The Tempests are made use of in the first Part of the Aeneid , just as in the Odysseïs .

In this very part of the Aeneid , Virgil suits himself to the Humour of his Hero , as Homer does himself to the Humour of Achilles . He ( Achilles I mean ) was testy and passionate , Agamemnon provokes him by very sensible Affronts . Aeneas was of a soft Disposition ; the Poet makes use of good Turns , kind Treats , and the most melting , most endearing Passions , to engage him to stay at Carthage .

In the Second Part , the Oppositions of Turnus and Mezentius are no less exact . For Love and Respect oblig'd Aeneas , not to abandon a Queen to whom he ow'd so much ; and these oppos'd his Embarking for Italy : and the Impiety of Turnus and Mezentius was an Obstacle to the Establishment of the Gods and Religion at that place . In fine , the Love Turnus had for Lavinia , and the Esteem Amata had for this Italian Hero above Aeneas , are likewise other natural Obstacles , derived from the very Subject ; since Amata was oblig'd to prefer her Relation to an unknown Stranger ; and such an accomplish'd Princess as Lavinia , who was sole Heiress to a Kingdom , could not but have her Suitors .

Besides , we observed that Homer made use of the Anger of Apollo , and that of Agamemnon , to stir up the same Passion in Achilles ; and that the Cause of the War , and the Cause of these Passions , are the Ravishment of three Women . Virgil forms his general Intrigue after the same manner : He opposes to the Establishing of a Kingdom in Italy , the Establishing of another Kingdom in Africk . This Opposition is suited to Policy in general , and to the Roman History in particular . * * Tantum in medio crescéntem noctem sibi ac posteris suis metuebant . Liv. lib. 1. Rome in its Infancy sees all her Neighbours conspiring against her ; for new Governments cast always a Shade upon the old ones .

But in these Intrigues of the Aeneid , there are a great many other Circumstances , wherein Virgil makes Allegories and Allusions so correspondent to History and Truth , that without bating any thing of his Quality as Poet , he seems to merit likewise that of an Historian . A Man may see in the Persons of Aeneas and Dido the very Spirit and Conduct of two great Empires , of which they are Founders . There one may observe the greatest Obstacle the Romans ever met with : and this great Intrigue in the Fable is a Truth in History . Was it only Fiction , that there was a Design of translating in Africk the Empire of the World , which was destin'd for Italy ? And the Means used to accomplish that End , was it not that Treachery with which the Romans have always upbraided the Carthaginians ? Dido casts this Reproach upon her self ; and * * Nullus amor populis nec foedera sunto . Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor , Qui face Dardanios ferroque sequare colonos . Aeneid . 4. makes the Application thereof to Hannibal and the Carthaginians ; ordering them to make use of it always against the Romans , and to violate their most solemn Treaties , as oft as they suppos'd they could do it to their own Advantage . This is the Genius and Conduct she inspires her Commonwealth with . Mercury likewise advises the Founder of Rome not to trust to the Inconstancy of this Woman , which was like the Inconstancy of her City . And when Juno made the Proposal to Venus of an Alliance between these two States , Venus saw well enough 't was only a Trick of Dissimulation , to which her present Interests compell'd her to condescend . But I am too minute in a General Treatise of the Epick Poem . We end all with saying , that the Event is the same both in the History and the Poem . † † Extincti te meque , soror , populumque patresque Sidonios , urbemque tuam . Aeneid . 4. 'T is Dido's Breach of Faith that had almost ruin'd Aeneas , and which at last became the Ruin of this Foundress of Carthage . 'T was this very same Perfidiousness in Hannibal that brought Rome into so much Danger , and was at last the Ruin of Hannibal and his City .

I shall conclude this Chapter with the three Methods of forming the Plot or Intrigue of the Poem . One is , to deduce it from the Design of the Hero and the Action , which we have already taken notice of . The second is , to deduce it from the Fable and the Design of the Poet ; and this is what we observ'd in the Allegory of two opposite Persons and two opposite Empires . The third is to form the Intrigue so , as that the Vnravelling may be prepar'd for it . I have said nothing as yet of this third Way , and shall explain it by some Instances .

'T is worth taking notice , how the Poet prepares the Departure of Aeneas from Dido . The Hero does not come designedly into Africk , but is forced thither against his Will by a Storm . He accepts not the Offer ‡ ‡ Vultis & his mecum pariter considere regnis ? Urbem quam statuo , vestra est . Aeneid . 1. Dido made him of her City , if he would stay there : * * Fugae nec conjugis unquam Praetendi taedas , aut haec in foedera veni . Aeneid . 4. And in the Marriage it self he takes care to engage himself to nothing that might hinder him from making a Voyage into Italy by the first fair Wind. All these Precautions prepare the Reader , that so without the least Surprize he sees Aeneas leave Carthage : This is the Vnravelling of that Intrigue .

In the second part the Poet opposes none against his Hero , but such persons as he could deal well enough with , when a Peace was clap'd up . King Latinus was to be his Father-in-Law , Lavinia his Wife , and the Latins his Subjects . It would have been hard for all these persons to have become such upon his Account , after they had been his profess'd Enemies . The Poet has provided for that too . In Lavinia there is not to be observ'd either an Inclination for Turnus , or an Aversion to Aeneas : * * Multaque se incusat , qui non acceperit ultro Dardanium Aeneam , generumque asciverit turbem . Aen. lib. 11. The King profers this Princess his Daughter to the Hero as an Article of the Peace , and constantly persists in this Design : The Latins only fight against Aeneas because they are forc'd to it . Their Legates give such ample testimonies of their Love and Esteem for him , † † Quin & fatales murorum attollere moles ; Saxaque sibvectare humeris Trojana juvabit . Aen. 10. that they declared , they should think it an Honour to build the City for him which he demanded in Italy . The Poet then opposes none against him but Amata and Turnus , who both perished by their own faults .

Juno indeed could not die ; but she is well enough disposed of , by insinuating that all she hopes for , is not absolutely to hinder the Establishment of Aeneas ( for that she confessed she could not do ) : * * At trahere , & tantis moras licet addere rebus , Sanguine Trojano & Rutulo dotabere , Virgo . Aeneid . 7. But only to put a stop to it a little , and make the Trojans and Italians pay very dear for it . Thus , having accomplished these two designs , 't was no hard matter for Jupiter to chear up her Spirits , and make her consent to the rest .

CHAP. XV. How to dispose , or prepare the Vnravelling .

IF the Plot or Intrigue must be natural , and such as springs from the very Subject , as has been already urg'd : Then the Winding up of the Plot , by a more sure claim , must have this Qualification , and be a probable Consequence of all that went before . As the Readers regard this more than the rest , so should the Poet be so much the more exact therein . This is the End of the Poem , and the last Impression that is like to be stamp'd upon them , and which either leaves them in the satisfaction they fought after , or in such a dissatisfied Temper , as endangers the Reputation of the Author . Let us now see the Instances Homer and Virgil have left us of this Practice .

The Vnravelling of the Plots of the Iliad is the Cessation of the Anger of Achilles , who was incensed at first against Agamemnon , and lastly against Hector . There is nothing but what is Natural in the Appeasing of this Anger . The Absence of Achilles is the Reason why the Greeks are worsted by the Trojans . He absented himself on purpose , and 't was a pleasure to him to see the Loss they underwent ; that so he might be reveng'd on Agamemnon , who was the only person , that had affronted him . Among the wounded he believes he sees one of his Friends . For his better satisfaction therein , he sends thither his dear Patroclus . But this Favourite of Achilles had not the same Passions with him . He could not but be extremely concern'd at the miserable condition his Allies were reduc'd to by the Common Enemy . These unfortunate Princes , who had done Achilles no wrong , importune Patroclus to work him into a better Temper ; and to persuade him not to suffer they should be so unworthily us'd any longer , since he could defend them from the Disgrace . Patroclus prevails upon Achilles to lend him his Men and Armour , and under this Appearance beats back the Enemy . It is likewise Natural that this young Hero , intoxicated with so glorious a success , should push on his Victory farther than Achilles had order'd him , and so force Hector to fight with and kill him . But shall Achilles endure , that so near and dear a Friend should be butcher'd before his face , and in his Armour too , without revenging the Deed ? That can never be . So then the Death of Patroclus is the Cause why Achilles , who is otherwise well enough satisfied and revenged upon Agamemnon , should be now reconcil'd to him , and accept of his submission , his presents , and the Oath he made that he had never to do with Briseïs . This first Intrigue then is naturally unravell'd .

The second could not be brought about by a Reconciliation with Hector . It was not in this Trojan Prince's power to restore Patroclus , as Agamemnon had Briseïs . Nothing but Hector's death could be a satisfaction for that of Patroclus . 'T is by this that Achilles begins his Revenge . Besides , the many Indignities which he offered to the Body of this innocent Homocide , and the great Honours he paid to that of his Friend , must needs Naturally mollifie his Grief , and asswage his Passion . To conclude , as Agamemnon repented , and wholly submitted to what he pleas'd ; so likewise we find King Priam prostrate at his feet in as miserable a Condition as a Father could be , that takes on for the Death of his Son . So that there is nothing in the pacified Anger of Achilles , and in the Winding up of the Plots of the Iliad , but what Naturally arises from the Subject and the very Action .

We shall find the same in the Odysseïs . Vlysses by a Tempest is cast upon the Island of the Phaeacans , to whom he discovers himself , and desires they would further his Return to his own Country , which was not very far from thence . One cannot see any Reason why the King of this Island should refuse such a reasonable request to a Hero whom he seems to have in great esteem . The Phaeacans had heard him tell the story of his Adventures : In this fabulous Recital consists all the advantage they could derive from his presence ; for the Art of War which they admir'd in him , his undauntedness under Dangers , his indefatigable Patience , and such like Vertues , were such as these Islanders were not used to . All their talent lay in Singing and Dancing , and whatsoever a soft and quiet life esteem'd Charming . And here we see how dextrously Homer prepares the Incidents he makes use of . These People could do no less for the Account Vlysses had given them of his Life , and with which he had ingeniously entertain'd them , than conduct him home by furnishing him with Shipping which would stand them in little or nothing .

When he came home , his long Absence , and the Travels which had disfigur'd him , made him altogether unknown ; and the danger he would have incurr'd , had he discover'd himself too soon , forc'd him to a disguise , as we hinted before . Lastly , this Disguise gave him an Opportunity of surprizing those young Gallants , who for several years together had been only us'd to sleep well , and fare daintily .

In the Latin Poet , all the hinderance Aeneas met with was from Turnus . The turbulent Spirit of this Rival drew out the Italians to fight the Trojans , and cost our Hero as many Subjects , as there were Souldiers slain in both parties ; since he was already King of the one , and within a while was to be King of the other . What is to be done then in this case by a Prince so valiant as Aeneas , and so affectionate and tender towards his Subjects ? * * Aequius huic Turno fuerat se opponere morti . Aen. 11. Is it not the most natural thing in the World , that he should declare he was ready to put a stop to the Quarrel Turnus had caused , by fighting singly with him ? † † Turnus ut infractos adverso marte Latinos Defecisse videt , sua nunc promissa reposci , Se signari oculis . Aen. 12. Turnus for his part sees the Latins vanquish'd and dejected ; he is sensible of the Reproaches they cast upon him for having exposed them in his Quarrel , and not daring to answer the demands of Aeneas . Can he shift off the Challenge Aeneas had sent him ? By this means the Duel and the Vnravelling of all the Action happens naturally , and is as it were a necessary Consequence of the Disposition of the Fable .

These are the Examples our Poets have left us of Aristotle's Rules . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 10. He teaches us that whatever concludes the Poem , should so arise from the Constitution of the Fable , as if 't were a Necessary or at least a Probable Consequence of all that went before .

CHAP. XVI . Of the several sorts of Actions .

THE several Effects which the Vnravelling of the Plot produces , and the different States to which it reduces the persons , divide the Actions into so many sorts .

The Vnravelling of the Intrigue may be by changing of any one's fortune from good to bad , as that of Oedipus ; or from bad to good , as that of Cinna . Oedipus seems to be innocent ; and in the very moment he thought himself Master of two Kingdoms , he finds himself guilty of Incest and Parricide , and becomes miserable , blind , and an exile . Cinna , on the other hand , is condemn'd , and look's for nothing else but a cruel punishment ; and contrary to his expectation he is freed from Death , restablish'd in his preferments , and made Master of Aemylia .

Sometimes these two Contrary Turns of Fortune happen in one and the same Action , as in Heraclius . Phocas is dethron'd , when he thought himself settled in a sure Post : And Heraclius steps into the place of the Tyrant who was gone to visit the other World .

But let this Turn be what it will , double or single , fortunate or unfortunate , 't is still call'd a Peripetia .

Sometimes it happens by the Discovery of one or more persons , which till then were unknown , as in Oedipus and Heraclius : Sometimes without any discovery , as in Cinna .

But let the Matter end which way it will , whether it be a Peripetia without a Discovery , or a Discovery without a Peripetia , or both together ; this makes a sort of Action which we call Implex or mix'd . But if the Vnravelling be without a Discovery , and without a Peripetia ; if it be a simple passing from trouble and Action , to quiet and Repose , then these Actions and Fables are call'd single Ones .

Sometimes likewise by a sub-division of the Fables wherein is a Peripetia , Aristotle has call'd those Single , where the Peripetia is single , and only of one sort , as in Cinna : and those Double , where the Peripetia is double , as in Heraclius .

According to this last Division , the Fable of the Odysseïs is double , because the Vnravelling of the Intrigue makes Vlysses and his party pass from a Miserable to an Honourable State ; and casts his Rivals from their Merriments to a shameful Death . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. c. 24. This Action then is likewise Implex . 'T is not only unravell'd by this double Peripetia , but likewise by the Discovery of Ulysses .

There is neither a Discovery nor a Peripetia in the Iliad . Two Generals of the same party fall out , and then agree , after they had both suffered considerable losses : Achilles loses his friend Patroclus , and Agamemnon his Glory and Authority : He is vanquish'd by the Trojans , and forc'd to submit to his Inferiour Achilles , to acknowledge his fault , and to give him Satisfaction . In the second part , too Enemies fight , and he who was the weakest and knew himself so , is at last vanquish'd and kill'd . This Action then is wholly Single .

There is no more Complexedness in the Plots of the Aeneid , than in those of the Iliad . Dido , who came to so miserable a Death , was not more fortunate before that Catastrophe . Her Love for Aeneas fills her at first with trouble and disquiet . Her Marriage increases both , and adds thereto the dismal fear , whereby she foresaw her Loss , and all the horrors of her Death . * * Urbem praeclaram Statui , mea maenia vidi . Ulta rirum poenas inimico à flatre recepi . Foelix , heu nimium foelix si littora tantum Nunquam Dardaniae tetigissent nostra catinae ! Aen. 4. If she had any good Fortune when she reveng'd her first Husband , punish'd the Treachery of her Brother , and was established so gloriously , all this happen'd before the Trojans arriv'd at Carthage : And by consequence having nothing to do with the Action , could not make a Peripetia . Nothing pass'd between Aeneas and Turnus , that is more complex'd , than that which happen'd in the Quarrel between Achilles and Hector . So that the Action of the Aeneid is altogether Simple , without a Peripetia or a Discovery .

Not that the Aeneid is absolutely without a Peripetia ; there are some in the lesser Episodes . In the fighting with whirl-bats , Entellus is knock'd down at the feet of his Antagonist ; ev'ry one looked upon him as vanquish'd , and Dares began to triumph . But when Rage had restored this old Combatant the Force which Age had robb'd him of , on a sudden he leaps up , and Dares found himself so over-match'd , and so confounded , that he could not make the least resistance . But the Quality of these Episodes make nothing against the Entire Action . The Fable , properly speaking , is only Complex when the Peripetia or Discovery happens in the main Vnravelling , which is the End of the Action .

I shall not stay here to enumerate all the sorts of Discoveries Aristotle has mention'd . There is none in the Aeneid , for the sake of which I chiefly write : And elsewhere this Subject is commonly handled in the Rules men lay down for the Dramatic Poem , where is the most occasion for them .

But I cannot omit the Conclusion of the Action ; 'T is a consequence of the Vnravelling , and a part or a necessary Qualification of the Integrity of the Poem .

CHAP. XVII . Of the Conclusion of the Action .

THAT which we call here the Conclusion of the Epick Action is the very last passage from Agitation and Trouble , to Quiet and Repose : So that there is a great deal of difference between the Vnravelling and the Conclusion of an Action . This last is nothing else but a kind of moment without Extent and Duration : But the first is of some length , since it Comprehends all that happens after the Plot. Besides , there are a great many Vnravellings in a Poem , because there are a great many Intrigues : All that are before the last make no kind of Cessation , but start up new Difficulties , which is quite contrary to the Conclusion . The Conclusion then is the End of the last Vnravelling , so that there can be no more than One.

This Doctrine is a Consequence of that which we laid down concerning Episodes . None of them , as we urg'd , should be Entire ; and only the last can be regularly finish'd . A great many Conclusions then is no where to be found but in Episodical Poems , as in the Thebaid of Statius , where he has finish'd the Story of Hypsipyle .

But now for some better Instances in the practice of our two Poets .

The first part of Virgil's Poem is the Voyage of Aeneas from Troy to Italy . The Plot is the Difficulty of getting thither , and the opposition of Juno who raises Storms , and other obstaoles against him . The Vnravelling begins at the last Voyage of the Hero from Sicily ( which he leaves in the fifth Book ) to Italy and the Mouth of Tyber , where he arrives in the sixth and Seventh Book . This Vnravelling * * Ea vox audits laborum Prima tulit finem . Aen. 7. puts an End to the Labours and hazards of the Voyage . But does it put an End to all the Troubles and Dangers of Aeneas ? No : † † O tandem magnis pelagi defuncte periclis , Sed terra graviora manent . Aen. 6. On the contrary it casts him upon greater . It leaves him not in Repose , but puts him upon more Action and more business than ever he had before . And therefore 't is not the Conclusion .

The Conclusion is not always joyn'd to the Solution of that Intrigue which seems to be most general , as was the Design of Juno in the Aeneid . This Goddess gives over acting , but Aeneas does not . He has still Turnus to deal withal . In a word , since the Poet does not sing the Action of Juno , but of Aeneas , the Poem and the Action remain still unfinish'd , even when this Divine Enemy has given over . All the Conclusion then is included in the Death of Turnus , because that puts an End to the Action of Aeneas .

'T is true that even then Aeneas had not quite executed his designs , he had not built his City , nor established his Religion , nor Married Lavinia . But it must be observ'd that these things are not necessary . 'T is enough that all Obstacles were remov'd , and that the Reader be no longer in doubt of what follows . And this is the Case of the Aeneid . In this particular it is very compleat , and needs no supplement . If one Instance is not enough to justifie this Doctrine , we can have recourse to the Theatre . Marriage is very commonly the very End of Dramatick Poems : And yet that is not always perform'd before the Spectators . The Actors step in to perform this Ceremony within doors : No body expects they should come out again upon the Stage ; or that they should tell the Audience of it , as † † Ne expectetis , spectatores , dum illi hue ad vos excunt . Nemo exibit , omnes intus conficiunt Negotium . Ubi id erit factum , ornamenta ponent . Postidea loci , Qui deliquit vapulabit , Qui non deliquit biber . Plaut. Cistell . Plautus has done in one of his Plays , more to make People laugh , than because he was forc'd to it .

Homer has concluded his Odysseis by the league which Pallas makes between Vlysses and his Neighbours . And yet he does not make it appear by the Continuation of the Poem , whether the Articles were faithfully kept or no.

He has not us'd the same Method in the Iliad . The observation of the Truce depended upon Achilles . The Poet had good reason to presume that all his Readers were not persuaded of the Moderation of so passionate a Man . It was a business of the highest Importance for the Conclusion of this Action to convince them that his Anger was appeas'd . This Hero in the whole series of the Poem had appeared so testy , unreasonable and unjust , that thô the Poet's precaution was very great and exact , yet one might distrust this extravagant humour , as long as the Body of his Enemy was in a condition of being insulted over . They were then ready to bestow such Honours upon this Corps , as one might fear would put our Hero into a Passion . So that the Poet thought himself oblig'd to carry on the Funeral and the Observation of the Truce to the very End of his Poem : That so he might absolutely convince us of his tranquillity and repose , whose Action and Anger he had undertook to Sing .

After having observed what the Conclusion of the Action is , and when it ought to be made , there remains still a third question behind . And that is to know whether the Conclusion ought to leave the Hero in a happy State , or whether 't is allowable to leave him in a miserable Condition .

Our Poets have not given us any Examples of a Hero , that is left in a Miserable and forlorn Condition . Sad Conclusions are proper for Tragedy : But in that they were more in Vogue formerly . than they are now a days : Because in the Popular States of Greece , where Monarchy was Odious , nothing was heard with greater pleasure and Ardency than the Misfortunes of Kings . Aristotle has still another reason for preferring this kind of Catastrophe to a more happy one . The Tragical Scene is the Throne of the Passions , where Terror and Compassion ought to rule over all the rest . Now these two Passions arise naturally from sad Events : And the Spectators going from the Theatre with their minds full of the misfortunes they were Eye-witnesses of , do doubtlesly preserve their tenderness a great deal longer , and resent more such forcible Effects , than if their tears were dryed up , and their sighs abated by the satisfaction of a more prosperous Catastrophe .

But these Reasons will not serve for the Epopéa , since 't is not so much for refining the Passions , as for making Men put off ill habits , and put on good ones . 'T is likewise as true , that this does not exclude sad Events . Besides the Nature of the Fable is as capable of Good as Bad persons for its chief Actors . The sad Adventure of the Lamb unjustly butcher'd by the Wolf is as just , as instructive , and as regular a Subject , as the Generosity of the Elephant , who quitted his Anger upon the Innocence of the same Lamb.

'T is true if the Poets in the person of their Hero proposed an Example of Perfection for Imitation , the misfortunes into which this Hero falls , and his unsuccessful Enterprizes , would suit very ill with the designs of these Authors . But the Practice of Homer in his Iliad , and the Approbation given him by Aristotle and Horace for the same , will not permit us to think that the design of the Epopéa should be to give us these fine Ideas of a perfect Hero . These three great men did certainly never pretend that Achilles , the Hero of the Fable , was a Model of Vertue .

We cannot then from any of these Principles determine any thing concerning the fortunate or unfortunate End of an Epick Action .

But if any heed be to be given to Authority , I do not know any one Instance of a Poet , who finishes his piece with the misfortune of his Hero . Our three Poems afford us quite contrary Instances ; and Statius himself has quite spoil'd the Vnity of his Action , because he would not leave upon the minds of his Readers that miserable Fratricide , which was the true Conclusion of it . So that all the Poets seem to conspire for a happy Catastrophe .

In a word , since the Epick Poem's Action is of a larger extent than that of the Theatre ; it would perhaps be less satisfactory to the Readers , if , after so much pains and so long Troubles with which this kind of Poem is always fill'd , it should at last bring them to a doleful and unhappy end . Achilles as unjust and Violent as he was , yet in his Valour shew'd such an Air of Greatness , which dazles our sight , and will not let us see his faults so , as to wish him any greater punishment than what he suffer'd by the Death of his friend . In speaking of the Fable , I hinted upon what account the Iliad should end thus , because it redounded more to the happiness and the Glory of the Grecians .

Virgil had the same reason to please his Audience . The Romans would have been disgusted and offended , if he had ill used their Founder and Ancestors : And besides in the Odysseïs and the Aeneid the Poets would have been unjust , and the Readers dissatisfied , if such brave Princes and such noble Souls as Vlysses and Aeneas had been suffer'd to sink under any misfortune . Achilles , who fell far short of their Vertue , was likewise but little less fortunate .

Let the Case be how it will , yet I fansie there needs a great deal of skill to give the Hero of the Epopéa a sad and mournfull End , which might be received with a general Applause .

This is what we had to say concerning the Integrity of the Epick Action . There remain still two of its Qualifications behind , its Duration , and it's Importance : Of each of which briefly .

CHAP. XVIII . Of the Duration of the Action .

THe time of the Epick Action is not so limited as that of the Theatre . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 5. This last ( says Aristotle ) should takeup as much time , as the Sun does in going about the Earth , or thereabouts . But the Epopéa has no fixed time , and in that it differs from the Dramatick Poem . These are all the Rules he has left us upon this head . They consist in two Things : The First , That the Epick Action is longer than the Dramatick ; and , Secondly , That the Epick Actions may be some longer than others .

The First is a Comparison between the Epopéa and the Drama : Concerning which we say that an uninterrupted Duration is a great deal more necessary in an Action , which one sees and are present at ; than in one which we read , or only hear repeated . It is not natural to imagine one can spend Days and Nights without Sleeping , Eating and Drinking , purely to mind the Event of Things ; and that , without moving out of the place , one can be conveyed to several places : And hence arises the Vnity of Time and Place so necessary to the Drama . But neither of these two Vnities is necessary to the Epick Poem , because we read it as an History which we may leave off when we please .

Besides , Tragedy being full of Passions , and consequently full of such a Violence as cannot last long , requires a shorter time ; and the Epick Poem requires a longer time for to give leisure to the Habits , if good , to sink deep into the Minds and Souls of the Readers ; or to be rooted thence , if bad . These two Reasons constitute the difference between the Epick and the Dramatick Action , as to their Duration .

But the Difficulty is to know how long these Actions of the Epopéa should last ; and , whether , since as Aristotle says they are unlimited , this does not cause some difference between the Actions of the same kind . All we can do in the Case , is to lay down the Practice of our Poets , and to make such Reflexions therein , as Aristotle has given us liberty to make .

This Philosopher says , Whatsoever is violent cannot last long ; and , in his Poesie he tells us , That the Manners of the Personages are either * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . C. 15. violent and strong , or calm , sedate and soft . The first cannot last so long as the other . A Man can be good humour'd , peaceable , and prudent all his life-long , and no body will find fault with it : But one would wonder to see him keep up his Anger , and be in a violent agitation of body and mind all that time .

And though this long train of Passions were probable ; yet it would not be necessary in a Poem that is designed to root out , or plant in Habits : Since the Habits are sooner received and impressed by violent Actions , than by such as are gentle and moderate . We ought to conclude then , that the more violence any Action has , the less time it ought to last .

This is what we see in the Practice of our Poets .

The * * Stultorum regum & populorum continet aestus . Hor. Ep. ad Lollium . Iliad contains not only the Anger and Passion of Achilles , but likewise of the Kings and People that are the Personages of it . The Poet allows this Action seven and forty days only . Nor is this little time designed all for the Anger of Achilles , though the most principal and the most violent . We must substract at one End the nine days of the Plague , which were before his Quarrel with Agamemnon : And at the other , the eleven days of the Truce which he granted to King Priam.

Besides , these seven and twenty days of Anger are not all spent in the Action . The eleven first are allowed for the curing and recovery of the Grecians ; and the eleven last for the Funeral-Pomp which Achilles bestowed on the Body of Patroclus . So that the Fight begins and ends in five days time . Nor does the Fight last all the time ; but on the second day there was a Cessation of Arms for burning the dead on both sides .

To conclude , Achilles , the chief Hero of the Poem , and the very Life of all the Violence that reigns there ; he , I say , who being transported with it more than the rest , ought likewise to continue in this Excess less time , fought only one day . By this means all the Poem founded upon Violence lasts but a little while : And the Duration of that which was most violent is judiciously retrenched by the Poet.

The Design of the Odysseïs is quite different from that of the Iliad ; so likewise is the management of it , as to its Duration . The Character of the Hero is Prudence and Wisdom . And this Moderation gives the Poet liberty to extend his Action to as long a time as he pleases , and his political Instructions required . Therefore he did not allow this Action some Weeks as he had that of the Iliad ; but he takes up eight years and a half , from the taking of Troy , at which it begins , to the Peace of Ithaca , where it ends .

The Aeneid is like the Odysseïs . The * * Sum pius Aeneas , Aen. 1. Character of the Hero is Piety and Meekness : and Politicks are likewise essential thereto . Therefore the Duration of the Action is continued after the same manner . The Poet makes the recital thereof begin at the building of the Wooden Horse , just before the taking of Troy . This City was taken a great while before the beginning of Summer , so that Aeneas had time enough to fit out a Fleet. † † Jam prima incooperat aestas , Et pater Anchises dare fatis vela jubebat . Aen. 3. He quits Troy at the beginning of the first Summer : * * Septima post Trojae excidium jam vertitur aestas . Aen. 5. arrives at Sicily by the end of the seventh , and immediately after comes to Italy , where his Action continues one or two Months longer to the Death of Turnus . All this makes up a little more than six Years and a half , and not quite seven . This is the Duration of the Action of the Aeneid .

There is still another way of reckoning the Time of the Epick Poem . 'T is to compute only what the Poet himself relates . By this means the Odysseïs begins at the first meeting of the Gods ; and the Aeneid , at that time when the Storm cast the Trojans upon Carthage . As for all that went before , we only reckon so much time as was requisite for Vlysses and Aeneas to make the Narration of their Adventures in , viz. a Night . This way of computing the Time , reduces the Action of several Years into the space of a few Months , and this Computation is no less necessary than the other . But because this belongs rather to the Narration than the Action , we reserve it for the ensuing Book .

Here we only regard the Duration of the Action , as being the Matter of the Poem . For this reason we reckon not the Incidents which are added thereto : Such as the Wound of Vlysses upon Parnassus , and the sequel of the Italian History from Aeneas down to Augustus Caesar's Reign .

'T is enough that we have shown the Duration of the Actions of the Iliad , the Odysseïs , and the Aeneid , and the difference between them ; which is so great even in Homer , that one of his Actions contains less than two Months , and the other more than eight Years .

CHAP. XIX . Of the Importance of the Action .

THE Epick Poet cannot insinuate himself into the mind of his Hearers by the Diversions of Comedy ; nor by the force and vivacity of Tragedy . Let him use never so much Artifice to seize upon a Passion , yet if one compares his Recitals with the Action of the Theatre , one may apply thereto what Horace says : That the Soul is less affected † † Segnius irritant animos dimissa per aurem , Quàm quae sunt oculis subjecta sidelibus , & quae Ipse sibi tradit Spectator . Hor. Poet. with what it hears , than with what it sees . So that besides the Reasons drawn from the Nature of these Poems , we may likewise from hence conclude , that the Epick Poet lies under a greater Obligion than the Dramatick , of surprizing the minds of his Readers by Admiration , and by the Importance of the things he treats of ; and of taking for his Subject a Great , Noble , and Important Action . Aristotle requires this Grandeur , and this Lustre in the Epick Action , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 5. and says That the Epopéa and Tragedy do both imitate whatever is most Noble and important .

But the Action may be important two ways : Either of its self independently from him that executes it ; or by the Quality of the Persons , the Poet is pleased to make use of .

Horace excludes mean Personages , and would have them be Crowned Heads : But neither he nor Aristotle says any thing to shew that the Action in its own Nature ought to be great and important . And in truth they could not require this Qualification without condemning the Poet , that in their Opinion is the least to blame of any in the World , and without rejecting the Model they proposed . If one considers the two Actions of Homer without the Names and their Episodes , as Aristotle would have them be prepared at first , one shall find nothing in them but what is common , and which requires no higher Qualities , than those a Merchant , a burgomaster , or at most a plain Country-Squire is capable of . You need only reflect upon the two Models we have given of them , one of which Aristotle himself drew . One shall find nothing there but what might have happened to ordinary Persons . 'T is this , A Man returns to his own Country , and finds a great many disorders in his Family . Two others fall out about a Captive Wench , and break the neck of their Affairs . This teaches us that to make Action important , 't is enough that it be the Action of noble and important Persons .

'T is true , Horace makes mention of Wars : But there is no need for them , 't is only by accident that they are in the Poem . I might urge , that this is only upon the Account of the Hero who ought to be a Warrior , such as Achilles , Vlysses , and Aeneas . Homer , who is cited by Horace in this point , shall testifie it . There is so little War in the Odysseïs , that there is not the least colour to think Horace meant to affirm that Wars were the subject Matter , or a considerable part thereof . The Poet mentions but three Rencounters , that of the Ciconians , that of the Lestrygons , and that of some Ithacans , who were for revenging of their Masters , whom Vlysses had murdered at his House . The recitals of these three Battles , if a Man may call these Adventures so , are made in less than forty Verses in all .

But however 't is , yet the Return of a Man to his own home , and the Quarrel of two others , that have nothing that is great in themselves , become noble and important Actions ; when , in the choice of the Names , the Poet tells us that 't is Vlysses , who returns back into Ithaca ; and that 't is Achilles and Agamemnon , who fall out with one another at the famous Siege of Troy . 'T is then these Affairs become Matters of State .

But there are Actions that of themselves are very important , such as the Establishing , or the Downfall , of a State or a Religion . Such then is the Action of the Aeneid . There can nothing be imagined more great , noble , and august , since it comprehends both the Civil State and Religion .

There is yet another way of making an Action great , by the Grandeur of the Personages under whose Names we represent it .

This way is to give a higher Idea of these Personages than that which the Readers conceive of all they know to be great . This is performed by comparing the Men of the Poem , with the Men of the present time in which the Poet writes .

Homer says that two Men of his time could not carry the Stone , which Diomedes with ease threw at Aeneas ; and Virgil says that the Stone Turnus flung at the same Aeneas , would have been too heavy a burden for twelve Men in the time of Augustus . In short , according to Homer's Account , who lived one or two Ages after Aeneas , and who pretends that Men's strength was abated to a Moiety of what it was before , this same strength may well be reduced to the pitch Virgil would have it ten Ages after . 'T is by this means these two Poets were willing to render the Subjects of their Poems more great and august by the Strength and Grandeur of their Personages , and by these great Ideas which they super-added to those which the Men of their Times conceived .

This very reason obliged them not to represent their Heroes superior to those of former Ages : But the probable diminution from Age to Age , as they supposed , ought on the contrary to give the Fathers the preference over their Children . Homer makes no difficulty of it ; and * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Iliad. 1. Nestor who had lived two Ages already , says without any Complement to the Princes of the Iliad , that they fell short of their Fore-fathers . † † Hic genus antiquum , Teucri pulcherrima proles , Magnanimi Heroes nati melioribus annis , Itusque Assaracusque , &c. Aen. 6. Virgil also says , that the Times of Itus and Assaracus were better than those in which his Hero lived .

It seems Statius had the same mind to represent the strength of his Heroes , as far surpassing that of Homer's and Virgil's Heroes , though in truth the Heroes of the one were only the Children of the Heroes of the other two ; so prodigious are the Actions he would attribute to some . But 't is more likely , that herein his whole aim was to amplifie to a Prodigy whatsoever he handled . For if by this extraordinary Strength he had a mind to heighten the Grandeur and Importance of his Action , he forgot himself in several Places , and has done something worse than sleep , when he debased it so much in his first Book . 'T is there , where to shew the Baseness and Poverty of the Kingdom of Thebes , he compares it to the Power and Riches of the greatest Empires that have flourish'd since . Is it not pleasant in him to declaim himself against the Design he bestows upon his Heroes , and to ridicule the great labour he puts them upon for a wretched and pitiful Kingdom ?

† † Bellum est de paupere Regno . Thebaid . l. 1. 'T is for a sordid Kingdom that they strive .

How ill an Imitation is this of Virgil's Epiphonema , which gives us so lofty and so just an Idea of the Importance of his Subject :

* * Tantae molis erat Romanam condere gentem . Aen. 1. So vast a thing it was to found the Roman State !

The End of the Second Book .

Monsieur Bossu's Treatise OF THE EPICK POEM . BOOK III. Concerning the Form of the Epick Poem , or concerning the Narration .

CHAP. I. Of the Parts of the Narration .

THere are two ways of Relating an Action that is past : The one is Simple and Historical , when a Man makes the Rehearsal of it to his Audience without forcing their Imagination , only leaving them under a Sense that they are reading a Book , or hearing something or other related . The other is more Artificial , where the Author makes no Appearance , nor says any thing of himself . But , by a kind of innocent Magick , he raises from the Dead , and brings upon the Stage , those very Persons who have done the Action he would represent . He makes them speak and act over again the same Words and Actions they spoke and did before , and in some sort transports his Auditors to the Times when , and the Places where the Action was done . By this means he does not declare it to them after a plain , simple Way , as the Historian , but makes them Witnesses of it , and the Action becomes its own Discoverer .

The Actions which Poets imitate , are such Things as are in an equal degree capable of two Forms , each of which constitute a different Species . Such as fall under the most Artificial and Active Form are call'd Dramatick Poems , denoting their Nature by their * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 , To Act. 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 , Action . Title ; and such as are represented by the Poet only , who speaks therein as an Historian , are for that very reason call'd † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 , To Speak . Epick Poems , or Epopéa's .

Whatsoever regard the Dramatick Poet has to his Spectators , yet the Persons he introduces in his Poem , who are the only Actors therein , are not in the least acquainted with those before whom the Poet makes them speak : nay more , they don't know what they shall do themselves , nor what the Issue of their Projects will be ; and therefore they cannot either advertise the Spectators thereof , or beg their Attention , or thank them for it . So that this kind of Poem , properly speaking , has no parts exempt from the Action that is represented . This alone makes the Comedy and Tragedy entire and perfect , such I mean as are in use now-a-days ; that is , without Prologue , Epilogue , and those other Appendages , which being lost , or left to the Choice of the Poet , have alter'd nothing of the Nature and Integrity of the Poem . When they are made use of , ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . they have nothing to do with the Tragedy and Action , since they are not made by the Actors .

But in the Epick Poem , where the Poet speaks , he says nothing but what is a part of the Poem . So likewise an Orator not only alledges his Reasons , and refutes those of the adverse Party ; but besides that , prepares his Auditors , begs their Attention , and at last raises the Passions that are proper to his Cause . Nothing of all this is look'd upon as foreign to his Subject : the Exordium , Proposition , and Peroration , are true parts of it , though less necessary than the Narration and the Confirmation . 'T is just the same in the Epopéa . Before the Poet begins the large Recital of his Action , he proposes it in general , and invokes the Gods that are to inspire him . This makes up three parts that have been always look'd upon as necessary , viz. the Proposition , the Invocation , and the Narration . We may add to them a fourth , which is no less necessary , nor less usual ; and that is , the Title or Inscription of the Poem .

There are several others , which signifie nothing to the Integrity of the Epick Poem . There is a Preface before the Aeneid , which they say was made against the Plagiaries , who might have transcrib'd this Poem , and have had the Credit of it to Virgil's prejudice . It is contain'd in the following Verses , where he speaks of his other Works . Ille ego , qui quondam gracili modulatus avenâ Carmen , & egressus sylvis , vicina coegi , Vt quamvis avido parerent arva colono ; Gratum opus Agricolis : at nunc horrentia Martis ....

I question whether these Verses are proper for a Beginning , where the Reader 's mind , not being as yet in a Heat , requires something more mild and just , than in the Sequel , where 't is easily transported . In my mind , the last of these four Verses seems unworthy of this great Poet. All that needed be said , was sufficiently exprest in the three first .

The other parts are a Dedication , to flatter some great Man or other , and an Epilogue for the Conclusion of the Poem .

Virgil made use of these two parts in his Georgicks . * * Quid faciat laetas segetes , quo fidere terram Vertere , Maecenas , &c. He begins with the Proposition , where he just mentions Maecenas , to whom he delicates this Piece , but says never a word in his Praise . † † Vos ô clarissima mundi Lumina labentem coelo quae ducitis annum , &c. After this he makes an Invocation , wherein he addresses himself to all the Gods that presided over Agriculture : and then he flatters ‡ ‡ Tuque adeo , quem mox quae sint habitura Deorum Incertum est , &c. Augustus , joyning him with the Gods he invokes .

* * Vere novo gelidus canis cum montibus humor Liquitur , &c. Afterwards he enters upon his Subject , and begins to treat at large of Agriculture . This part is the Body of the Poem , as the Narration in the Epopéa . † † Haec super arvorum cultu , pecorumque canebam , &c. Lastly , after he had finish'd his Treatise in four Books , he ends with an Epilogue design'd against the Plagiaries , as the Preface of the Aeneid is ; but with an Air so different , that these Verses seem to be produc'd by another sort of Genius . This is what he has done in his Georgicks .

But neither He nor Homer , in their Epick Poems , have made use of any of these unnecessary parts ; so that I shall say nothing more about them . I will now speak particularly to the other four . 1. Of the Inscription or Title of the Poem . 2. of the Proposition . 3. Of the Invocation . 4. and lastly , Of the Body of the Poem , and the Narration properly so call'd .

CHAP. II. Of the Title of the Epick Poem .

WE here examine Things upon the Principles we laid down in speaking concerning the Nature of the Epick Poem . We observed that it is a Fable ; and we see nothing in the Practice of our Poets that gives us any other Idea of the Title and Inscription of their Poems , than of the Titles of Aesop's Fables . They have for their Title the Names of the Persons that act in them . There lies this Difference , that all the Personages are nam'd in the Title of Aesop's Fables , because they are but few , and one is as important as another ; but in the Epick Poem there is commonly One who is a great deal more considerable than the rest , and the others are too many to be all nam'd . Therefore they only affix the Name of the principal Personage to it . Thus the Odysseïs and the Aeneid bear only the Name of Vlysses and Aeneas .

The Example of Homer in the Inscription of the Iliad informs us , that the Title of the Poem may be deriv'd from something else besides the Name of the Personages . Perhaps he did not call it the Achilleid , because Achilles does not act therein , as Vlysses and Aeneas do in the other two Poems . He has as many Sharers in his Dignity as there are Princes in his Alliance . He has a General to whom he should submit , and refusing to do that , he makes but little or no Figure in the whole Action , of which the Subject of the Poem is but a part . He is but little better than a Cashier'd Officer . He is doubtless the most Valiant ; but the Poet sings his Anger , not his Valour . And even there , the Anger which the Poet sings is rather that which makes Achilles to absent himself from fighting , than that which puts him upon killing of Hector . To conclude , the Fable consists less in this Anger , than in the Quarrel and Reconciliation , wherein Agamemnon had as great a share as he . So that the Poet makes no Scruple to mention them both in his Proposition , when he comes as near the Fable it self as possible : I sing , says he , the Anger of Achilles , that has done so much mischief to the Grecians , and caused the death of so many Heroes ; * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Iliad. 1. since the time that Agamemnon and he fell out and parted . These Considerations ought not to degrade Achilles from the Honour of being the chief Personage , which Homer has doubtless made him : but they may serve to prove , that though he is the chief Hero of this Fable , yet he is not the only Hero , as Vlysses and Aeneas are in the Fables that go under their Names .

Statius and Lucan have each of them two Heroes ; and they have , like Homer , given their Poems the Names of the Places where the Actions were done , and not of the Heroes who did them . But the Thebaid , and the Pharsalia , are such defective Poems , that there 's no relying upon their Authority .

In Tragedies , where the Name of the Personage is made use of for the Title , the Poet adds something else to it , when he makes several pieces under the Name of the same Hero . Seneca has done this in his two Tragedies of Hercules . The * * Hercules Furens . One he names from the Madness which transported him , and the † † Hercules Oetus . Other from the Place , where he was burnt . This is the Reason why more than one Name is requisite for the Title of Aesop's Fables ; for there is scarce an Animal , but what is a Hero in several Fables . But this signifies little to the Epick Poem : 'T is rare that an Author makes two of these Fables under the Name of one and the same Person .

Nor do Poets use to denote the Action in the Title of the Poem . Several Things happen'd to Medea , Vlysses , Aeneas , and Troy ; and one might feign a great many under the Names of the Wolf and the Lamb , which the Title alone would never inform us of . This signifies nothing ; the Authors are well enough satisfied with these plain Inscriptions , Medea , the Odysseïs , the Aeneid , the Iliad , the Lamb and the Wolf . And they refer us to the Discourse it self to know what the Action is that is recited .

CHAP. III. Of the Proposition .

THE Epick Proposition is that first part of the Poem , wherein the Author proposes briefly , and in the General , what he has to say in the Body of his Work . And here two Things offer themselves to our Consideration ; first , What the Poet proposes ; and secondly , After what manner he does it .

The Proposition should only comprehend the Matter of the Poem ; that is , the Action , and the Persons that Act , whether Divine or Humane . We find all this in the Iliad , the Odysseïs , and the Aeneid .

The Action Homer proposes in the Iliad is the Revenge of Achilles ; that of the Odysseïs is the Return of Vlysses ; and that of the Aeneid is the Empire of Troy translated into Italy by Aeneas .

Nor should any one be surpriz'd at Homer's way of expressing himself in his first Words , where he says , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . &c. he sings the deadly Anger of Achilles ; nor think he proposes this Anger as the Subject of his Poem . He would not then have made the Rehearsal of an Action , but of a Passion . We are not to stop here , since in truth he himself does not . He says , he sings this Anger which had been the Cause of so much Slaughter among the Greeks , and of so many brave Mens Deaths . He proposes an Action then , and not a mere Passion , for the Subject of his Poem ; and this Action is , as we already hinted , the Revenge of Achilles .

So in the two other Poems , a † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arma virumque cano . Man is propos'd at first : but the Proposition does not stop here ; it adds either , ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Odyss. 1. that he underwent much in returning home to his own Country ; or , ‖ ‖ Trojae qui primus ab oris Italiam , &c. Aev. 1. that he went to settle in Italy ; and both of them propose an Action .

If Homer's Design had been to propose the two parts of each Poem ; his Design was not to do it very distinctly . Yet we may conceive the first part of the Iliad by the Misfortunes of the Grecians , and the second by the illustrious Deaths of so many Heroes . The Grecians are greater Sufferers than the Trojans , and there are fewer Heroes kill'd on their side , but almost all are wounded .

The Proposition of the Odysseïs speaks plainly enough of the Travels of Vlysses ; but it leaves us rather to infer his Re-establishment in Ithaca , than discovers it to us . The Poet says , his Hero did all he could to preserve and conduct back his Companions to Ithaca ; * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Odyss. but that these miserable Creatures were their own Destruction , and that the God whom they had offended would not suffer them to see the happy day of their Return . By which 't is plain Vlysses did see the Day , and preserv'd himself according to his Wish .

The Latin Poet has clearly distinguish'd the two parts of his Aeneid . At first he makes his General Proposition in two Verses ; and then he makes a Division of it , saying in the † † Multum ille & terris jactatus & alto . first place , that he had suffer'd much both by Sea and Land ; and then ‡ ‡ Multa quoque & bello passus . Aen. 1. secondly , that he had likewise suffer'd much by War .

This is the most considerable Difference between Homer and Virgil.

It was enough for Achilles to be reveng'd ; and * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Odyss. 1. Vlysses pretended only to save himself . This is the Scope and End of the Odysseïs , as Aristotle , in the Scheme he has drawn , very well observ'd . But Aeneas had a Settlement to make , and this Settlement was attended with great Consequences . Virgil has been so exact , that he has omitted nothing of it . † † Dum conderet urbem Inferretque Deos Latio , genus unde Latinum , Albanique Patres , atque alta moenia Romae . He advertises us , that his Hero travell'd to Italy to build a City , and establish his Gods and Religion there ; and he adds , that from this Settlement proceeded the Latins , the City of Alba , and the Romans their Progeny .

It will not be amiss to make this one Reflection more , that in the three Poems , the Proposition takes notice where the Action of each Poem does begin . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . This Beginning of the Iliad is the Beginning of the Quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles . † † Trojae qui primus ab oris .... Profugus . The Action of the Aeneid begins at Troy , from whence Aeneas was forc'd to part . ‖ ‖ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . The Odysseïs does not begin at the Ruin of Troy , as the Aeneid , but some time after .

This is what I had to say concerning the Action propos'd , now for the Persons .

The Divine Persons are mention'd in the three Propositions . Homer says , that whatever happen'd in the Iliad was by ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Jupiter's Appointment ; and that * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Apollo was the Cause of the Quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles .

The same Poet says , that it was Apollo likewise who hinder'd the Return of the Comerades of Vlysses .

† † Fato profugus , Vi superum , & saevae memorem Junonis ob iram . Virgil likewise makes mention of the Fates , the Will of the Gods , and the Anger of Juno .

But these Poets chiefly insist upon the Person of the Hero . It seems as if he alone were more properly the Subject-matter of the Poem than all the rest . Homer names Achilles particularly , and adds Agamemnon to him , as we hinted in the former Chapter . Vlysses and Aeneas are not nam'd , but only implied ; and that in such general terms , that we should not know them , had we not Information otherways , that they are the Persons . For what does the Proposition of the Odysseïs say concerning the Return of Ulysses from the Ruin of Troy , but what might be in the Proposition of a Poem , that treated of the Return of Diomedes ?

This Practice might have perhaps some Respect to the primary Invention of the Poet , who ought at first to feign his Action without Names , and relates not the Action of Alcibiades , as Aristotle says ; nor consequently the Actions of Achilles , Vlysses Aeneas , or any other in particular : but of an Universal , General , and Allegorical person . But since Homer has done otherwise in his Iliad and has mention'd Achilles by his own name and that of his Father too ; one cannot condemn the practice of naming the Persons in the Proposition .

Besides , the Character which the Poet would give his Hero and all his Work , is taken notice of likewise by Homer and Virgil. All the Iliad is nothing else but Heat and Passion , and that is the Character of Achilles , and the * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . first thing the Poet begins with . The Odysseïs in the † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . first Verse presents us with the Prudence , Dissimulation and Artifice , that Vlysses made use of to so many different Persons . And in the Beginning of the Latin Poem , we see the ‡ ‡ Insignem pietate virum . Meekness and Piety of Aeneas .

These Characters are kept up by another such like Quality , namely that of a Warriour . The Proposition of the Iliad says , that the Anger of Achilles cost a great many Heroes their lives : That of the Odysseïs represents Vlysses as Victor of Troy , from the Destruction of which he came : And that of the Aeneid begins with Arms : I have already observed that Horace speaks of Wars and Generals in the Subject Matter of the Epopéa .

As for the way of making the Proposition , Horace only prescribes Modesty and Simplicity . He would not have us promise too much , nor raise in the Reader 's Mind too large Ideas of what we are going to Relate . * * Nec sic Incipies ut scriptor Cyclicus olim . Fortunam Priami cantabo , & nobile bellum . Quid feret hic tanto dignum promissor hiatu ? Parturiunt montes nascetur ridiculus mus . Quanto rectius hic qui nil molitur inepté . Dic mihi , Musa , virum capta post tempora Troja , Qui mcres hominum multorum vidit & urbes . Non fumum ex fulgore sed ex sumo dare lucem Cogitat , ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat . Antiphaten , Scyllamque , & cum Cyclope Charybdim . Hor. Poet. His words are these : Begin not as th' old Poetaster did , ( Troy's famous War , and Priam' s Fate , I sing ) In what will all this Ostentation end ? The Mountains labour , and a Mouse is born . How far is this from the Maeonian Stile ? Muse , speak the Man , who since the Siege of Troy , So many Towns , such change of Manners Saw . One with a flash begins , and ends in smoke , The other out of Smoak brings glorious light , And ( without raising expectation high ) Surprizes us with Dazling Miracles : The bloody Lestrygons in humane Feasts , With all the Monsters of the Land and Sea ; How Scylla bark'd , and Polyphemus roar'd . [ Horace's Art of Poetry english'd by Roscommon . ]

And in truth what can be more Simple and Modest than the Proposition of the Odysseïs , which does not promise us any great Action of this Hero , but only the dangers , and the continual Fatigues of his Voyages , and the loss of his miserable Companions ?

We shall find the very same Simplicity and Modesty in the Proposition of the Aeneid . The Poet does not say his Hero had done much , but only that he had suffered much . Thô he speaks of Alba and the Roman Empire ; yet he proposes neither as parts of his Matter ; but as Consequences which other Heroes had brought to Perfection a great while after . So Homer in his Odysseïs has spoken of the destruction of Troy ; but withal as an Action already done , and which his Readers were not to expect would be rehears'd in the sequel of the Poem .

The Proposition of the Iliad is something more lofty , in that it mentions the Deaths of so many Heroes : But this is so far the Matter of this Poem , that it seems as if it could not have been wholly omitted . And besides , Art might oblige the Poet to make some kind of Conformity between the Character of the Proposition and that of the whole Poem , which is nothing else but a long series of Heat and Violence . But to conclude , the Poet acquitted himself of these Obligations with so much Simplicity and Modesty , that one cannot charge upon him the Transgressing of Horace's Rule . For he does not say that these Heroe's Deaths were the Effect of his Heroe's Valour and Courage : He only says that he sings the Anger of Achilles , which had brought so many disasters upon the Greeks , and had been the Cause of the Death of so many Homes , who were exposed as a Prey to Birds and Beasts . Certainly if there is any thing of Grandeur here , 't is not so much in any Glory or Splendor , as in that Trouble and smoke , which will scarce let us see it .

Beside this sort of Bombast , which things , proposed with too much glazing produce ; or which arises from the Dignity of the Personages , that at the very first are praised unseasonably , and set off with too great Ideas ; there is yet another that respects the Person of the Poet. He should speak as Modestly of himself , as of his Hero or his Subject . Virgil in plain terms says that he sings the Action of Aeneas . Homer begs his Muse to inspire the Action into him , or to sing it for him ; this was all . Claudian has not followed these Exemplars . * * Audaci promere cantu Mens congesta jubet . Gressus removere profani . Jam furor humanos nostro de pectore Sensus Expulit , & totum spirant praecordia Phoebum , &c. He says , his Song shall be full of Boldness : That the Poetical Fury , and the whole Divinity of Apollo had so swell'd his Mind and possess'd his Senses , that they had not left any thing Human about him : That the rest of mankind were profane , whose conversation he could no longer endure : With a great deal of such like stuff .

These Raptures well manag'd , would look well enough in an Ode , a Pastoral , or some such Piece , that is short enough to preserve them to the last , and where we may suppose them to have been uttered all in a Breath .

But a Poem so long as an Epopéa , admits not these Rhapsodical Propositions from a Poet that is well in his Wits . This is Horace's Doctrine , who would have the Proposition of the Epick Poem be simple and Modest ; and yet he sticks not in one of his * * Odi Profanum vulgus & arces . Favete linguis , Carmina non prius audita Musarum sacerdos Virginibus puerisque canto . Hor. l. 3. Od. 1. Odes to do what Claudian does in the Proposition we cited . This Poem of Claudian that begins so ill justifies the Rule , which Horace has drawn from the Practice of Homer . One may even there observe , that those , who are so daring in what they propose , are so more out of Lightness and Vanity , than out of any knowledge of their Abilities and Art ; and that commonly they are the least able to keep up to it . Claudian was not able to carry the Terrors which he proposed as the Subject of his Poem any farther than the middle of his first Book : And that Internal Darkness , which should have eclipsed the light of the Sun , could not take off from the lustre of the Ivory Walls , and Amber Columns of Proserpina's fine Palace .

But we will not leave this Chapter without producing some Instances that are contrary to the Practice of Homer and Virgil. We may reckon six of these sorts of faults . The first is when any thing is proposed that is foreign to the Subject : The second is , the giving too large an Idea of the Subject Matter : The third is , when the Hero appears too dazling in the Proposition : The fourth , when the Poet speaks too favourably of himself : The fifth is the omitting the Presence of the Deity : And the sixth is , when nothing is said that may give a light into the Character of the Hero .

There is scarce one of these faults but may be met with in the Proposition of the Achilleid . * * Magnānimum Aeacidem formidatumque Tonanti , Progeniem , & patrio vetitam succedere coelo , Diva refer . Statius prays his Muse to tell him the Story of the Magnanimous Son of Aeacus , whose Birth struck the Thunderer himself with Terror , and to whom admittance into Heaven was deny'd , tho he had from thence his Origin . If Horace could not endure that a Poet should propose Priam's Fate , and the famous War of Troy , thô in truth this War was Noble and Illustrious : What would he have said of him , who sings a Hero , that strikes Terror into Jupiter himself ?

This very Poet gives us likewise too favourable a Character of himself , when begging Phoebus to bestow upon him new Inspirations , * * Tu modo si veteres digno deplevimus haustu , Da fontes mihi , Phoebe , novos ... meque inter priscu parentum Nomina , cumque suo memorant Amphione Thebae . he tells him that in his first Poem , he had worthily exhausted those he had receiv'd , and brags of his being so excellent a Poet , that Thebes would look upon him as another Amphion .

He speaks of the Gods in this Proposition , but 't is more by Chance , than in Imitation of Homer or Virgil ; since if he had been perswaded that Art required so much , he would not have fail'd doing it in the Proposition of the Thebaid .

To conclude , he has given a very sorry Character of his Hero , when he stiles him Magnanimous . Achilles was certainly very Impatient , Cholerick , and Revengeful . Homer made him so , and Statius should have kept up the same Character , which this first Poet had given him . * * Scriptor , honoratum si forte reponis Achillem , Impiger , iracundus , iners , inexorabilis , acer , &c. Hor. Poet. This is one of Horace's Rules . But we need not seek any farther than Statius himself for a proof of his error in this point . In the Proposition he contradicts this Character of Magnanimous which he had bestow'd upon Achilles at first : For immediately after , among the Actions he was to mention of his Hero , he mentions one , that is far from Magnanimity ; namely his cruel Usage of Hector's body , when after he had kill'd him , he bound him by the heels to his Charriot , and drag'd him a great many times round the Walls of Troy , and the Tomb of Patroclus .

CHAP. IV. Of the Invocation .

* * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . HOMER in his two Poems inserts the Invocation in the Proposition . He does not say that he will relate what Achilles , or Vlysses has done ; but intreats his Muse to make the Recital . Virgil has these two parts distinct : He first † † Arma virumque cano . proposes what he would sing , and then he ‡ ‡ Musa , mihi causas memora . begs his Muse to inform him about it . In this second part he * * Infignem pietate virum . inserts the Character of his Hero , which more properly belongs to the first . And this makes it appear , that it signifies little whether they are distinct from each other , or joyn'd together .

But let the way be how it will , the Poet cannot omit the Invocation . He speaks of things which he would know nothing of , unless some God or other had reveal'd them to him . He owes his Readers this Example of Piety and Veneration , which is the very Foundation of all the Moral , and the Instructions he pretends to lay down from the Fable : And lastly , since the Gods must be concern'd in it , 't is unreasonable to dare to bring them upon the Stage , without craving their leave first . So that with respect to the Gods , the Auditors , and the Poet himself , the Invocation becomes an indispensible and necessary part .

The Poet likewise addresses himself to the Gods very often in the sequel of his Work : * * Nune agé qui Reges Erato , quae tempora , rerum , Quis Latio antiquo fuerit Status , &c. Sometimes when he enters upon a new matter , as Virgil does , when in his Seventh Book he enters upon the second part of his design : † † Quis Deus , ô Musae , tam saeva incendia Teucris Avertit ; tantos ratibus quis depulit ignes , Dicite Prisca fides facti , sed fama perennis . Aen. 9. Sometimes when he relates some miraculous Action , that is above common probability ; as in the transformation of Aeneas's Ships into Nymphs : ‡ ‡ Die , quibus Imperium est animarum umbraeque filentes , Et Chaos & Phlegeton , loca nocte silentia latè : Sit mihi fas audita loqui , fit numine vestro Pandere res altâ terrâ & caligine mersas . Aen. 6. Sometimes when he reveals those Mysteries , which God seems to have been willing to keep secret from the Curiosity of Men , such for instance is that which happens in the shades below , whither Aeneas is conducted by Sibyl : And lastly at other times upon other occasions .

But the Principal Invocation is that at the Beginning . And here we are to take notice of two things . The first is what the Poet desires : And the second , to what Deity he makes his Application .

That which we demand in the first Question , is whether the Poet should desire that all his Matter should be inspir'd into him , or only a part of it . The different practice of our Authors obliges us to make this Reflection .

Homer has so well connected his Proposition in the Iliad with the Invocation , that he implores his Muse for all that he proposes without exception .

In the Odysseïs he has begun after the same way ; but after mentioning several things which he begs his Muse to assist him in , he at last retrenches some ; and only intreats her to tell him a part of them .

Virgil follows this last method . That which is particular in him is , that he does not in the general desire one part of his Subject , but precisely determines what part he would have his Muse inspire into him . 'T is that which was the most secret and hardest to know . After he had very exactly proposed all his Matter , he then addresses himself to his Muse , and prays her to inform him of the Causes of all .

There is a very natural reason to be given for this Conduct : For since the Poet supposes that his Action is true , and writes as if he would have it pass for such ; he must likewise suppose that such an Illustrious and Important Action could not have been buried in Oblivion . By this means History or Report might have informed him of one Part. This is the Idea he would have the Readers conceive , when he does not desire the Muses for all .

Perhaps likewise our Poets did this to divide the business so , that they might have the Honour of singing a part with the Gods . This is what * * Haec Damon : vos , quae responderit Alphesiboeus , Dicite Pierides : Non omnia possumus omnes . Virgil does in his eighth Eclogue : He sings the one half of his Matter ; and prays the Muses to go on and sing the other part , because he could not do all .

However the case stands , we see by this Practice what the Poet is allowed to do . Thus much for what he desires ; now let us see to whom he makes his Addresses .

The Invocation is proper to the Poem , when 't is either addressed to the God , who presides over the Subject he treats on ; or to the God , who presides over Poetry in general .

Ovid in his * * In nova fert anīmus mutatas dicere formas Corpora . Di coeptis ( nam vos mutastis & illas ) Aspirate meis . Metamorphoses makes use of the first sort of Invocation . He names no God in particular , but addresses himself to all who had contributed to the Miraculous Transformations he was about to describe .

The Poet † † Quae quoniam rerum Naturam sola gubernas , Te sociam studeo scribundis versibus esse , Quos ego de rerum naturà pandere conor . Lucretius does the same in his Poem concerning the Nature of things . He calls upon Venus , because she presides o'er the Productions of Nature .

This is likewise what Virgil has done in his Georgicks . He names in particular all the Gods who were concern'd with Husbandry , and as if he had been affraid of omitting any one * * Diique , Deaeque omnes Studium quibus arva tueri . he calls upon them all in General .

But both he and Homer have left us another kind of an Example in their Epick Poems . They have call'd upon the Muses , and so they have distinguished the Deities which preside over Poesie , from those that preside over the Actions of the Poems , and are the Personages that act in them .

Besides , we are not to imagine that these Divirities , which they invok'd , were look'd upon by the Poets themselves , as Divine Persons , from whom they expected any real Assistance . Under this Name of Muse , they wish'd for that Genius of Poesy , and all those Qualifications and Circumstances , that were necessary for executing their design . This is nothing else but an Allegorical and Poetical way of expression : As when they say , the God of Sleep , the Goddess of Fame , and the like . There are likewise Muses of all Ages , Countries , and Religions . There are Christian as well as Pagan Muses . There are Greek , Latin , French , and English Muses . There are New ones too , which begin every day to appear in behalf of those who disdaining the thread-bare Antiquities , are so bold as to invent things wholly new .

When Virgil wrote his Eclogues , he invok'd the * * Sicelides Musae , paulo majora canamus . Vir. Ecl. 6. Extremum hunc , Arethusie , mihi concede laborem . Ecl. 10. Sicilian Muses , because he imitated Theocritus : And this Sicilian Poet coming off so well put the Latin Poet upon wishing for as lucky a Genius as this Islander had .

The Muses of the Philosopher Lucretius were † † Avia Pieridum peragro loca , nullius ante Trita solo : juvat integros accedere fontes , Atque haurire ; juvatque novos decepere flores ; Insignemque meo capiti petere inde coronam . Unde prius nulli velarint tempora Musae . Lucr. l. 3. New , and had inspired none before him . None had as yet entered the Gardens where this Epicurean Poet gather'd so many Immortal flowers : And the Waters of his Poetical Fountains were such , as former Poets had never quenched their thirst with ; he is the first that ever tasted of the sweets of them .

But the Doctrine of this Author leaves no room to doubt what sort of Gods they were , that he invok'd . At the very beginning of this Poem , when he had addressed himself to Venus , as a Goddess who managed the whole concern of Natural things , about which he was going to treat : He presently-informs us , * * Omnis enim per se Divûm natura necesse est . Immortali aevosumma cum pace fruatur . Semota ab nostris rebus sejunctaque longè , &c. that the Gods never concerned themselves with what was done below . This is the main Principle of his whole Treatise : and ‡ ‡ Tantum Religio potuit suadere malorum . Religion , in his account , is an Error that imposes upon us . What then are these Muses , and this Venus to which he addresses himself ? Has he invoked the Deities to inspire him with that , with which 't is impossible they should inspire him ? And did he intreat them to teach him , that 't is an Error to pray to them , and a mistake to expect any thing from them ? Other Poets are not so unreasonable , and * * Parcus Deorum cultor & infrequens , Insanientis dum sapientiae Consultus erro , nunc retrorsum Vela dare , atque iterare cursus Cogor relictos . Hor. lib. 1. Od. 34. Horace , who for some time was of the same opinion , might well call this Epicurean Wisdom downright Folly .

We will conclude this Chapter by a short recapitulation of all that has been observ'd about the Invocation ; and from thence it may be said , That the Invocation may be mixed with the Proposition , or may be separated from it : That it is always a necessary part of the Epick Poem : And that 't is a prayer addressed to the Allegorical Genius of Poesy , under the name of Muse , or some one else , by whom the Poet begs to be inspir'd , either in the whole , or only in a part of that which he has undertaken to relate .

CHAP. V. Of the Body of the Poem , or the Narration properly so called .

ALL the parts of the Epick Poem , which we have already discours'd of , are nothing but Introductions into it . Let us now enquire into the Body of the Poem , and into that which is properly called the Naration . And in short this Narration is the Recital which the Poet makes of his entire Action , Episodiz'd with all its Circumstances and all its Decorations . 'T is in this part we are to look for the Beginning , the Middle , and the End of the Action : This is it which informs us of the Causes of all we read : In this are proposed , in this are unravelled all the Plots and Intrigues : In this the Personages , whether Divine or Humane , ought to demonstrate their Interests , their Manners , and their Quality , by their Actions and Discourses : And all this must be described with the Beauty , the Majesty , and the Force of Verse , of Stile , of Thoughts , of Similes , and of other Ornaments , that are suitable to the Subject in general , and to each single thing in particular .

We have spoken already to some of these things , and shall say something more about them in the remaining parts of this Treatise . But in this we shall consider , First , the Qualifications of the Narration : Secondly , the Order our Poets have observ'd therein : And Thirdly , its Duration ; that is , how long time they have assigned to the Adventures which they themselves have related in each of their Poems . For we have already observ'd how much time they assign'd to the Entire Actions .

We will begin with the Qualifications of the Narration . It must be Pleasant , Probable , Moving , Marvellous , and Active . We prov'd the necessity of these Properties , when we treated of the Fable , and of the Nature of the Epopéa , from whence we took them . So that without insisting any longer upon these proofs , we shall in this place only consider , wherein these Qualifications do consist , and what we are perswaded Homer and Virgil have done to establish them in the Poem .

* * Aus prodesse volunt , aut delectare Poetae , Aut simul & jucunda , & idonea dicere vitae ... Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci Lectorem delectando pariterque monendo . Hor. Poet. Horace speaks of the Profitable and the Pleasant in such a manner , that he seems to treat of them both alike . But we fansie , if that had been his design , he had more regard to Poesie in general , than to the Epick Poem in particular . With respect to the last we say , that the Profitable is a Property Essential to the Epick Narration , whereas the Pleasant is only a Mode or Qualification of it . For it must be granted , that the Fable , which is the very Soul of the Epopéa , was only invented to instruct Men : That the Profitable is not made use of to please People ; but that on the other hand the Pleasant is inserted to procure a more favourable reception of the Instructions which the Fable contains .

So that the Profitable belongs not to any particular part of the Poem , but to the very Nature of the Epopéa , and of the Fable in general . I am satisfied then with what I said about it in the first Book , where I think it was more proper to speak of it , than to joyn it with the Pleasant here . Besides , it being Essential , as I have already said , it will be met with in a great many Passages , since all suppose it .

CHAP. VI. How the Narration is Pleasant .

PLeasantry in the Epick Narration is a necessary Qualification , which engages us to read the Poem with some sort of Delight , thô excited by the most Terrible , the most Violent , and the most afflicting Passions . The Effect may arise , either from the Poem alone ; or from that Relation which the Poet makes between his Auditors and his Personages , and the Interest which he makes the first to have in the Action he relates . Statius rob'd himself of this Advantage , when not regarding the Romans for whom he wrote , he must needs hunt for his Subjects in Countries and States , whose Manners and Customs bore no relation to those of his Readers , and wherein they had not the least Interest . Homer has made a better choice , and has better disposed of his Actions . And if Virgil has not been more careful than Homer , yet at least he has had infinitely more luck than him . But we said enough of this in the first Book .

The Pleasantries which the Poem affords in its own nature independently from the Auditors , are of three sorts . The first arise from the Beauty of the Verse , of the Stile , and of the Thoughts : Others depend upon the Persons that are introduced into the Poem , upon their Manners , their Passions , and their Interests rightly manag'd : And the third sort consist in the things which are describ'd , and in the way of proposing them .

We shall speak of the first sort in our last Book , wherein we shall treat of the Thoughts , and Expressions . In this Book , we shall allow a whole Chapter to the Passions , and all the next Book will be about the Manners . As for the rest let us consider them here .

It is not necessary that all the persons introduc'd into a Poem should have divided and particular Interests therein : Not only their great Number exempts them from it , but likewise a multitude of Interests would too much annoy and subvert the Pleasure we are discoursing of . It confounds the Hearer's mind , it over charges his Memory ; and makes him less capable of those Motions with which we would have him affected . The greater variety of things we have to take notice of and remember , the more sedate and attentive ought we to be , for fear of losing any necessary thing ; and when any such thing escapes us , we take but little pleasure in hearing that , which we have no farther understanding of .

But there must be care likewise taken , that no Action or Adventure of any length be describ'd without interested persons . * * Aeneid . l. 3. The Recital , which Achemenides makes of that which happened to Vlysses in Polypheme's Den , takes up no more than forty Verses . This wretched Grecian had a great Interest therein ; but since he is but a very inconsiderable Personage in this Poem , Virgil provides that Aeneas should not be at a Distance from the Borders of the Cyclops , where he might in safety hear this Adventure : But all this is told in the Port , and upon the very Coast , where the Trojans were in danger of suffering the same Fate with the Companions of Vlysses . So that Achemenides speaks as well in their behalf as his own ; and in conclusion says , * * Sed fugite , & miseri , fugite atquo ab littors funem Rumpite . that they should not so much as stay to weigh Anchor , but cut the Cables that detained them . † † Supplice sic merito . Aeneas for his part owns himself obliged to him . Without these Engagements , these Adventures are languishing , and make those that hear them languish too .

But the Readers are very desirous to know what any person shall say or do in an Adventure wherein he has some Interest . This is more apparent in the Theatre , from whence the want of Interest has excluded the Narrations of the Chorus , and of such Actors as were only to tell what passed behind the Scenes . After Oedipus was come to the knowledge of his Parents and his Crimes , the Spectators were not very eager to know what the thoughts of the old Corinthian , and the Theban Phorbas are , nor do they take any delight in hearing them . But they cannot hear Oedipus and Jocasta without application and attention .

As much might be said concerning the Manners and the Passions , which are the second sor of Pleasantries . There is nothing more cold and disgustful than to see Personages of no Character . Good Painters give this to all their Draughts ; and represent them either Passionate , or Attentive upon some thing or other . Such as are most lively , and have most of the Character upon them , are the most delightful to the Eye , and get most credit to their Masters . * * Ut Pictura Poesis erit . 'T is just with Poetry as with Painting .

The third sort comprehends the Pleasantries which the things themselves furnish us with . There are some things that in their own Nature are Pleasant , namely such as are Important and Marvellous , as Wars , and other great Adventures , provided they are not collected without Choice and Judgment , nor carried on to an extreme , but judicious and well managed .

Others there are that are cold and insipid ; and great skill must be used to manage them with success . The best way in such cases is to follow * * Sumite materiam vestris , qui scribitis , aequam Viribus , & versate diu , quid ferre recusent , Quid valeant humeri . Cui lecta potenter erit res ; Nec facundia deseret hunc nec lucidus ordo . Et quae Desperet tractata nite scere posse Relinquet . Hor. Poet. Horace's Rule ; to examine those Incidents , and ones own strength ; and to study them , and know himself so well , as to undertake nothing but what is proportionate to his Genius and Strength . If an Author distrusts himself in any thing , 't is best letting it alone .

Dogmatical things are generally dry and insipid . Of this nature is the Doctrine of Plato , and the Pythagoreans , which Virgil has touch'd upon in his sixth Book with so much success . 'T was necessary that this great Poet , should give us Instances of all sorts of perfections . Upon this account we might say , what Aristotle upon another Occasion says of Homer , that had an ordinary Poet manag'd this Subject , he would have been insufferable . The Art which I discover in him is what follows .

First of all , he makes this Doctrine necessary for the better conceiving of the Wonders which follow . Besides , he goes farther , for he makes it a necessary part of his Fable , and his Subject ; since t is the Foundation of the Religion , the Laws , and the Morality , which Aeneas went to establish in Italy under the Character of a Pantifex and a Legislator . In the third place , before ever he proposes it to the Readers , he puts them upon desiring it as much as Aeneas did ; for without doubt they are mov'd with the same Curiosity , which the Poet bestows so naturally on his Hero : They see with the same Amazement , that he does , persons that were to be born some Ages after : And what this Hero asks Anchises , that they ask Virgil. [ * * O Pater , anne aliquos ad coelum hinc ire putandum est Sublimes animas , iterumque ad tardá reverti Corpora ? Is it possible , that there should be any Souls here so fond of returning again upon the Earth , and of being imprisoned once more in a body ? ] And 't is with delight that they hear the † † Dicam equidem , r●●c tu suspensum , nate , tunebo . Aen. 6. Poet in the person of Anchises promise to satisfie their Curiosity in that point . The Author does not dogmatize at all himself : But he brings it about , that it should be discours'd of by two persons of the greatest importance in his Poem , and who were both very highly interested therein . Lastly , he is very short upon this Subject : He does not so much as spend thirty Verses about it .

The most usual and proper way for Poesie , is to lay down these pieces of Doctrine disguised under the Allegories of some Action or other . Homer does this often in some Physical points . The Age Virgil lived in obliged him to be more reserv'd therein ; by which means he has more examples of lessons in Morality . We have said something already about this in the first Book : And shall say more of it in the Book about Machines and the Gods : And likewise in this Book , when we come to shew , how the Epick Narration ought to be Active .

The meeting of Councils may be reckoned among those things which make the Narration languish , and render it unpleasant . Quietness , Moderation , and arguing of Debates ought naturally to preside there , and all this is opposite to the Motions , and the Action , which ought to appear throughout the whole Epick Poem .

Our Poets have carefully avoided all manner of sage and serious Debates , where each person speaks in his turn , and delivers his sober thoughts . They generally brought in some hasty or passionate persons , such as are Achilles , and Agamemnon in the first Book of the Iliad , and almost all the other Grecians and Trojans of this Fable . Such likewise in the Aeneid are Venus and Juno in the tenth Book , and Drauces and Turnus in the Eleventh . The Council in the ninth Book is altogether as Passionate , but the Movements are of another kind . There are neither Quarrels , nor Heats . All the Personages therein are generous and manly : And yet of above threescore Verses which the Poet spends about it , there are scarce five calm ones . Nisus and young Euryalus , that are introduced therein , make the rest so passionate , that this Passage is not one of the least tender and moving Beauties , which the Aeneid has of this kind .

If these Assemblies are without passions , there should be little said in them , and no body contradicting what is propos'd , these Incidents are not so much Debates , as simple Proposals of what is going to be done . There should likewise such proper Places be chosen for them in the Poem , where they might not interrupt the Series of the Action . Of this Nature are the two Assemblies of the Gods in the first and fifth Books of the Odysseis . The first is at the Beginning of the Poem , where it interrupts nothing : And the second does not last long , and is only a simple Transition from the Recital of the Transactions at Ithaca during the Absence of Vlysses , to the Recital of that which more particularly regards the Person of this Hero .

The Reader is offended likewise , when that is related to him which he knows already . This was not so great a fault in Homer's time . Virgil is more exact herein . Venus in the first book , would not make a Recital of her Misfortunes to Aeneas , she interrupts it to comfort him . And in the third Book , when good Manners oblig'd this Hero to relate his story to Andromache , Helenus comes in very opportunely , and so hinders him from going on with his Discourse .

CHAP. VII . Of Probability .

TRuth and Probability may meet together , since a thing , that is true , may appear such . This is what 's common . But sometimes Truth it self is only Probability , as in Miraculous , Prodigious , and extraordinary Actions . Sometimes likewise there is Probability without Truth , as in the ordinary Fictions of the Poets . In a word , an Action may be either only True , or only Probable , or else without Truth and Probability , or lastly , it may have both these Qualifications . These four sorts of Actions or things have been as it were divided among four sorts of Learning . History has got the first , relying only on that which is true independently from Probability , which may , or may not be in it . Such is the Action of the Maid of Orleans . The Epick and Dramatick Fables are opposite to History , in that they prefer a Probable Falsity before an Improbable Truth . Such an Action as Samson's would be less proper for the Subject of an Epick Poem , than the Death of Dido who made away with her self , when Aeneas left her . Aesop is alike negligent of Truth and Probability in the Discourses he attributes to the Beasts . Lastly , Moral Philosophy should not only mind the Truth of the things it teaches , but 't is likewise necessary that this Truth appear such , and convince those , we are willing to convince , that it is profitable .

But to what we have said concerning the Epopéa , we may add that naturally it makes use of both Truth and Probability , as Morality does ; and that in its Expressions and its Dress , it assumes a liberty very like that of Aesop . It is Probable that Aeneas , when going for Italy , endur'd a dreadful storm , which cast him upon the Coasts of Africk , where he escaped . 'T is a Moral Truth , that God proves , and sometimes seems to abandon good men , and that at last he rescues them from the Dangers , into which he had permitted them to fall : This is not only True , but likewise Probable . But the Discourse that passed between Juno and Aeolus , and what Neptune said to Boreas and Zephyrus , have as little Truth and Probability in them , as the Intercourse that passed between the Country and the City-Mouse .

So much may be said in the general . To be more particular , and to speak more exactly and Methodically concerning the Probability of Epick Narrations , we shall reduce it to several Heads , and consider it according to Divinity , according to Morality , according to Nature , according to Reason , according to Experience , and according to vulgar Opinion .

It may be said , that there is nothing with respect to Divinity , but what is Probable ; because with God nothing is impossible . This is a Means the Poets often make use of to render every thing Probable , which they have a mind to feign contrary to the Ordinary Course of Nature . This is an ample Subject , and requires a particular Treatise : Which we shall bestow upon it , when we come to treat of the Machines .

We have already observ'd that Morality requires both Truth and Probability , and the first is more necessary than the last . A Poet was formerly condemned and fined for a Default in this upon the Theatre : For he made a Personage , whom he had represented as an honest Man , to say , that when his tongue swore , his Mind did not . Certainly 't is neither True nor Probable that an honest Man should ever trick another by a false Oath , and call God to witness those Promises he never intends to keep .

Seneca the Philosopher accuses Virgil of a fault against Natural Truth and Probability , when he says that the Winds were pen'd up in Grots : Because Wind being nothing else but Air , or Vapours in Motion , it destroys its Nature to suppose it in a Profound Repose . Vossius answers this , and says , that the Poet has very well described the Natural production of Winds , which arise from Hills by the Vapours and Exhalations , that are inclosed therein ; and that 't is concerning the Causes of Winds which the speaks , by a figure very common among Poets and Orators , taking the Cause for the Effect . 'T is as if we should say , that the Winds are inclosed in Eolipiles full of Water , since when these Vessels are warm , the Water comes out of them in puffs of Wind. It would have been likewise a Fault against Natural Probability to have said that Aeneas met with Stags in Africk , if 't is true that they could not live there . But these are Venial Slips , because , Aristotle says , they make not against the Poet's Art , but arise from his ignorance in some things that he has learn'd from other Arts. Yet care must be taken that they be not too gross and visible . There are some Probabilities of this kind from which Aesop himself would not be excused . We should never pardon him if he had represented the Lyon Timorous , the Hare Daring , the Fox Dull , and the like .

The Probability with respect to Reason is usually destroyed by those , who only strive to make things look Great . They transgress the Bounds which good sense prescribes . They think 't is creeping unless they soar above the Clouds : And * * Et dum vitat humum , nubes & ioania captat . Hor. Poet. little dream that when they quit the Earth , they part with what is solid to embrace an Airy Fantom . Statius is very often guilty of this Fault . Who would believe , for Instance , that a single Man surprized in an Ambuscado by fifty Bravo's , that lay in wait for him , could kill nine and forty of them , and give Quarter to the last ? Who would believe that this same Romantick Hero would fight at fifty cuffs with a Young Prince for the Wall ? And yet they wore Swords by their sides , even when they were pulling of hair , and scratching Faces with their Nails . The * * Forte & nudassent enses , sic ira ferebat . Theb. l , 4. Poet himself observes as much , and says their Anger rose so high , that perhaps they had drawn upon one another , if King Adrastus had not step'd in between . Here is a strange Illustration of the rage of two Kings . The third person finds it so reasonable , † † Haud humiles tanta ira decet . that he discovers by this noble exploit the greatness of their Extraction . Is this at all Probable ? And is not a Man's Reason strangely shock'd at this ?

Sometimes the Poets are found fault with for relating things contrary to Experience . * * Etiam decimo Iliados Jovem fulgurare facit , ubi ningit . Nunquam hoc Vidimus . Scaliger . Poet. Book 5. Scaliger blames Homer for saying that Jupiter Thundered and Snowed at the same time : Which is a thing , says this Critick , which we never observed . But this does not contradict Experience ; not many years ago it was observable , that in January the Thunder was so Violent , that it Burnt down the Steeple of a Church at Chalons , and did as much at the Abby of Chally near Senlis , and in several other places . Terrible Claps of Thunder were heard , and several Thunderbolts fell at Senlis in a very deep and thick Snow . Homer then might likewise have seen the self same thing .

But the principal sort of Probability , and that which we nam'd last , is the Probability according to the common-received Opinion ; which is of no small moment in this place . A thing is Probable when it seems to be True . But sometimes it seems True to Men of Sence , and False to the Vulgar ; or the Contrary . Since the Vulgar and the Learned are thus divided , it may be asked which side the Poet ought to take . The Subject shall be , for instance , the Adventure of Dido , or that of Penelope , or the Story of Medea , Helen , or the like . That which Homer and Virgil have wrote about it shall be Probable to the Vulgar : But Men of Learning shall have read the contrary in History . Some Authors shall have written that [ Dido was Chast , and Medea Innocent , that Penelope was banished and divorced by Vlysses for having abused his Absence , and that Helen was never at Troy .

'T is no hard matter to decide this Point by the Rules I have laid down . Homer , Virgil , and the rest have made no scruple to disregard History , that so their Fables might be more just . * * Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus . Aut Famam sequere , aut sibi convenientia finge . Hor. Post. Horace does not refer Poets to the Truth of History , but either to Fables already invented as that of the Iliad , or else to vulgar Opinions and Fame . Aristotle says nothing against , but rather seems to confirm this Doctrine , when he tells us , that a Poet does not write as an Historian , what sort of Man Alcibiades was , what he said , or what he did , upon such or such an Occasion ; but only what in all probability he ought to have said or done . He approves of the Fable of Oedipus upon the Theatre , and yet , he says , that that which serves as a Ground work to all this Action has nothing of reason in it : And that King Oedipus could not have tarry'd so many years , before he made inquiry into the Murder of his Predecessour King Laius . He only excuses the Negligence that is attributed to Oedipus , upon the account that this Fault against Reason was foreign to the Tragedy . But this excuse being only designed to justifie the Conduct of the Poet , it expresly supposes that this Action was invented contrary to the Truth of History : And besides it shews that Aristotle allows of this , when he goes about to prove that this Falsity hinders not but the Subject may be Lawful and Regular .

He likewise approves of the Iphigenia in Taurica , and thinks it worth his while to make the Platform of it , as he did that of the Odysseïs . And yet it does not appear that this Philosopher nor the Learned Men of his times were perswaded of a thing whose Falsity quite ruins this Action . Certainly they never thought , that in the very moment Iphigenia was going to be sacrificed to Diana in Aulis , this Goddess conveyed her away , and substituted a Hind in her stead . Aristotle was therefore of the Opinion , that a Poet , when his Fable so required , was not so strictly tyed up to the Truths of History , to suit himself to the Capacity of the Learned , as he was to that which might pass for Probable in the Eye of the Vulgar .

After all , it may be said , that not only ev'ry individual person finds his story , and meets with his satisfaction in this Practice : But likewise Men of Learning see more solid Truths therein , than any the Vulgar can meet with ; and more certain than those of History which the Poet disregards . The more learned they are , the less will they expect these Historical Truths in a Poem , which is not designed for that , but for things more Mysterious . The Truths , they look for there , are Moral and Allegorical Truths . The Aeneid was never writ to tell us the Story of Dido , but to inform us under this Name of the Spirit and Conduct of that State which she founded , and of the Original and Consequences of its differences with Rome . A Man takes some delight in seeing this ; and these Truths are more pleasant , more apparent , and better understood , than those which the Poet might have taken out of an History that was so little known in his time , and about which the Learned Men of our days , after so many searches , do still contend .

Beside these sorts of Probabilities , there is still another particular one , which we may call an Accidental Probability . It consists , not in making use of several Incidents , each of which in particular is Probable , but in ordering them so , that they shall happen all together very Probably . A Man , for instance , may Probably die of an Apoplexy , but that this should happen exactly when the Poet has occasion to unravel his Plot , is not so easily granted .

The faults against this Probability are of a large Extent : For they comprehend the Multitude of Marvellous things , each of which might have been regular in the particular ; but which in all Probability cannot be heaped up in so great a Number and so small a space . 'T is likewise a fault against this Probability , when an Incident not duly prepared ( tho it needs it ) is brought in all on a sudden . A desire of surprizing the Auditors by the sight of some Beauty which they never expected , casts Poets of little Judgment into these Errors ; but the effect thereof is of very ill Consequence . When a Man sets himself to seek for the Causes of these events in what he has already seen , this Application of thought takes away all the pleasure . It would vex a Man to take too much pains to find out these Causes , but much more if he could not find them out at all . And when at last the Poet does discover them , the Passion is weaken'd or destroy'd by these misplaced Instructions .

The Comedians make use of these surprizes more frequently , and can reap some Advantage from them . But the gravity of the Epopéa will not away with these petty Amusements . All there ought to be manag'd after a Natural way , so that the Incidents thereof must be duly prepar'd , or else be such as need no Preparation .

Virgil is exact in this . Juno prepares the Tempest which she raises in the first Book : Venus in the same Book prepares the Amours of the Fourth . The Death of Dido , which happen'd at the End of this Fourth Book , is prepar'd from the very * first day of her Marriage . Ille dies primus Lethi . Helenus in the third Book prepares all the matter of the sixth . In the Sixth , Sibyl foretells all the ensuing Wars , the Out-rages of Turnus , the misfortunes which were to happen upon the Account of Lavinia , and likewise the Voyage of Aeneas with Evander . We should be too tedious , if we took notice of ev'ry thing of this Nature .

CHAP. VIII . Of the Admirable , or the Marvellous .

ADmiration is opposed to Probability . 'T is the business of the last to reduce ev'ry thing into the most simple , and most natural order : Whereas on the other hand , we never admire any thing , but what appears extraordinary , and out of the common Road. This is that which deceives some , who , to make their Heroes admir'd , raise them to what is impossible . This Practice meets with a quite contrary effect ; for if we would have a thing admired , we should make it so Probable , that it may be conceiv'd and credited : We never Admire that , which we think has actually never been ; and all extravagant Flights put us upon this Thought .

And yet for ought I know , I may yield too much to Reason and Probability contrary to Aristotle's mind , who prefers the Admirable by far before them . Let us see what he says about it , and let the World agree to it , as they see cause . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 24. 'T is requisite , says he , That the Marvellous should be in Tragedy , but much more in the Epopéa , which in this goes beyond the bounds of Reason : For since they do not see the Persons act , as they do upon the Stage , that which transgresses the bounds of Reason is very proper to produce the Marvellous . That which Homer says of Hector pursued by Achilles , would have been very ridiculous upon the Stage , where one should have seen so many persons in a fight , looking on Hector as he was flying without pursuing him , and only one person following , giving a signal to the rest to stand off . But this is not discernable in the Epopéa . Aristotle says further , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. Ibid. that these Additions , that are made to Reason and Truth for the raising of Admiration , are likewise Pleasant ; and that 't is evident how natural this is by the ordinary practice of most People , who to make their story the more diverting , and something or another of their own Invention : But that Homer out-does all Men in teaching us how to tell these sorts of yes with a bon grace .

These Fictions of Homer are , amongst other things , such as Horace commends in the Odysseïs , and which he finds to be equally beautiful and surprising , joyning together these two Qualifications , the Pleasant and the Marvellous , after the same manner that we have observed Aristotle did .

But tho' this Philosopher might have said thus much , certainly he never design'd to allow Men a full license of carrying things beyond Probability and Reason . Besides , without doing him the least injustice , and without abating any thing of his due Authority , it may be questioned whether the Example of Homer , which he proposes , would have been exact enough for Virgil's Imitation . For the custom of speaking by Fables and Allegories , even in Prose , and before the People , was not in vogue at Rome in the Latin Poet's time . So that beside the Allegorical sense , he was farther obliged to insert some other , which one might understand simply without any more ado .

Lastly , that which I infer from the Doctrine of Aristotle is that he prescribes the Marvellous and the Probable to both the Epick and the Dramatick Poets : But in such a manner , that the Dramatick have a greater regard to the Probable than the Marvellous ; and that the Epick on the contrary prefer the Admirable . The reason of this difference is , that we see what is done in Tragedy ; and only hear by Recitals the Adventures of the Epopéa . 'T is upon this consideration that Horace orders , * * Multaque tolles Ex oculis , quae mox narret facundia praesens . Aut in avem Progne , Cadmus mutetur in anguem . Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic incredulus odi . Poet. that in Tragedies themselves the two surprizing Incidents ( such as the Transformation of Progne into a Bird , or of Cadmus into a Serpent ) should be kept from the Spectator's view . There needs only simple Narrations to be made of these things . 'T is likewise for this reason that the Epopéa has the privilege of Machines , which are as so many Miracles and exceed natural Probability . But they are not after the same manner allow'd upon the Theatre .

We add further , that if for the better pleasing the Auditors by a surprizing Incident , one should transgress the boundaries of Reason and Truth , their minds ought to be disposed thereto , by something that may set them so far besides themselves , that they be not in a condition to perceive that they are imposed upon ; or at least that they may thank the Poet for having surprised them so pleasantly . This is what Monsieur Corneille has observ'd in his Cid . He knew well enough that he could not bring Rodrigues into the Earl's House , whom he had but just then Murder'd , without transgressing against Reason and Probability : But then he knew as well that the curiosity of the Spectators , and the Attention they gave to what passed between this Young Hero and Chimene , would not suffer them to take notice of this fault : And that tho' they should have been inform'd of it , they would have taken it ill , if a more strict Regularity had rob'd them of so great a satisfaction .

I believe that the best Rules for knowing how far 't is allowable to carry on the Marvellous , and for discerning what will be taking , what will offend , and what will be Ridiculous ; is first , a sound judgment ; and then the reading of good Authors , and likewise the Examples of those who have come off but sorrily ; and lastly the comparing these two together . But in this Examen of things a Man must be well acquainted with the Genius's , the Customs , and the Manners of the several Ages . For that which is a Beauty in Homer , might have met with sorry Entertainment in the Works of a Poet in the days of Augustus .

'T is not enough ( to make an Incident admir'd ) that it should have something that is Admirable : But beside that , 't is requisite there should be nothing in it that might put a stop to its effect , and destroy the Admiration ; such as would be all contrary Passions Admiration in this point has nothing but what is common to it self and all the other Passions . Therefore for the better explaining of this matter we must join that with them .

CHAP. IX . Of the Passions .

THE Epick Narration ought to be Admirable , * * Non satis est pulchra esse Poemata , dulcia sunto . Et quocumque volent animum Auditoris agunto . Hor. Poet. but this Beauty is not enough . It is farther necessary , that it be moving and Passionate , that it transport the Mind of the Reader , fill him with Inquietude , give some pleasure , cast him into a Consternation , and make him sensible of the Violence of all these Motions , even in Subjects , which he himself knows are feign'd and invented at pleasure . † † Ille per extensum funem mihi posse videtur Ire Poeta , meum qui pectus inaniter angit , Irritat , mulcet , falsis terroribus implet Ut magus . L. 1. Ep. 1. Horace , who prescribes all this to the Poets , can't forbear admiring them , when they come off well , and he compares their skill to the Power of Magick .

The Passions then are necessary to great Poems : But all are not equally necessary or convenient to all Poems . Mirth and Pleasant surprizes belong to Comedy . On the contrary , Horrour and Compassion belong to Tragedy . The Epick Poem keeps as it were in the middle between both , and seizes upon all these Passions , as is evident from the Grief that reigns in the fourth Book of the Aeneid , and from the Sports and Diversions of the Eighth . The Passion that seems most peculiar to this kind of Poem is Admiration . It is the least contrary to the Passions of the two other kinds of Poems . We admire with Joy things that surprise us pleasingly , and we admire with Terrour and Grief such things as terrifie and make us sad .

Beside this Admiration which in general distinguishes the Epick Poem from the Dramatick , each Epick Poem has likewise some peculiar passion , which distinguishes it in particular from other Epick Poems , and constitutes a kind of singular and individual difference between these Poems of the same Species . These singular Passions correspond to the Character of the Hero . Anger and Terrour reign throughout the Iliad , because * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Il. 1. Achilles is Angry and the most Terrible of all Men. The Aeneid has all soft and tender Passions , because that is the Character of Aeneas . The Prudence , Wisdom , and Constancy of Vlysses do not allow him in either of these Extremes , therefore the Poet does not permit one of them to be predominant in the Odysseïs . He confines himself to Admiration only , which he carries to an higher pitch than in the Iliad : And 't is upon this account that he introduces a great many more Machines of the Odysseïs into the Body of the Action , than is to be seen in the Actions of the other two Poems . This Doctrine will find a fitter place in the next Book , where we shall treat concerning the Manners and the Character .

We have still two things to say concerning the Passions . The One is how to impress them upon the Auditors : And the Other how to make them sensible of them . The First is to prepare their minds for them : And the Second is , not to huddle together several Passions that are Incompatible .

The Necessity of preparing the Auditors is founded upon the Natural and General necessity of taking things where they are , when we would convey them elsewhere . 'T is easie applying this Maxim to the Subject in hand . A Man is in a quiet and profound repose , and you have a mind by a discourse made on purpose to make him angry : You must begin your discourse by a mild way ; by this means , you will Close him , and then going hand in hand together , as the saying is , he will not fail following you in all the Passions : You have a mind to excite in him by degrees . But if at the first touch you manifest your Anger , you will make your self as ridiculous , and meet with as little success as Ajax in Ovid's Metamorphoses , in whom the witty Ovid has given us a notable Instance of this Default . He makes him begin his plea by Anger and violent figures before his Judges who were profoundly calm . * * Consedêre Duces , & vulgi stante coronâ , surgit ad hos Clypei dominus septemplicis Ajax . Utque erat impatiens irae , Sigeia torvo Littora prospexit , classemque in littore vullu . Protendensque manus , Agimus , pro Juppiter , inquit , Ante rates causam , & mecum confert ur Ulysses ? &c. Metam . Lib. 13. The Generals were set , the Souldiers standing round about them , Ajax rises , and being of a furious and impatient Disposition casts a fierce look towards the Sea-shore , stretches out his hands towards the Fleet that rode there , and then cries out : Oh Heavens ! This Cause must be tryed in view of the Navy , and Ulysses my Competitor !

These necessary Preparations arise from the discourse that goes before these Movements , or else from some Action , that already begins to excite them before one speaks . The Orators themselves sometimes make use of this last way . For tho' they generally excite not the Passions till the end of their Harangues , yet when they find their Audience already mov'd , it would be ridiculous , if by an unseasonable Calmness they should begin by making them quit that , with which they would have them affected . The last time Catiline enter'd the Senate house , the Senators were so disturbed at his presence , that those who sat next him drew farther off , and left him to sit alone . Then the Consul would have offended against Reason , if he had begun his Speech with that sedateness that is usual to Exerdiums . He would have abated that Indignation with which he was willing to affect the Senators against Cariline ; and he would have taken away from the mind of this Parricide , that Dread and Terror he was minded to strike him with , and which he was already sensible of by this tacite condemnation of the Senate . Therefore * * Quousque tandem abutêre , Catilins , patientiâ nostrâ , &c. omitting this first part of the Speech , which upon such an occasion would have been prejudicial to him , he takes his Audience in the Condition he found them , and continues and beightens their Passions .

That which is so rare among the Orators , is common among the Poets : They abound with Instances of this nature , where one may see the Passion prepar'd and kept up by the Actions . Dido begins a Speech as Ovid's Ajax did . Oh Jupiter ! What ? Shall this Stranger go off so ? &c. But these Motions were very well prepar'd . * * Illa dolos dirumque ne●as in pectore versat , Cetta mori , &c. Aen. 4. Dido entertains thoughts of her Death before Aeneas left her . She spent her Night in nothing else but disquietude , and such distracting thoughts , as these her fears possess'd her with . * * Regina è speculis ut primum albescere lucem , Vidit , & acquatis classem procedere velis , Littoraque , & vacuos sensit sine remice portus : Terque quaterque manu pectus percussa decorum . Flaventesque abscisss comas : Proh Jup●… Hic , ait , & nostris illuserit advena regnis ! &c. Ibid. Soon as the Dawn began to clear the Sky , Down to the Shore the sad Queen cast her Eye ; Where when she doth the empty port survey , And now the Fleet with mings display'd at Sea , Her hands held up , her Golden tresses torn , Must we , says she , of force indure this scorn ? Can we not have recourse to arms ? nor meet This fraud with fraud ? not burn this wicked Fleet ? Hast , fly , pursue , row , and let every hand Snatch up with speed some swift revenging brand . [ Englished by Edm. Waller and Sidney Godolphin Esquires . ]

This is no surprize to the Hearers : They are so well prepared for it , that they would have wonder'd if the Beginning of this Speech had been less passionate .

The Practice of Seneca is quite contrary . If he has any Recital to make , which ought to imprint some great Passion or other ; he takes away from both his Personages and his Audience all the inclinations they might have towards it . If they are possess'd with the Sorrow , fear , and expectation of some dreadful thing ? He will begin by some fine and elegant Description of some place or other , which only serves to shew the Copiousness ; and the poignant , bloomy Wit of a Poet without Judgment . In the Troad , Hecuba and Andromache were disposed to hear of the violent and barbarous death of their Son Astyanax , whom the Grecians had thrown from the top of an high Tower . It mightily concern'd them indeed to know , that among the croud that flock'd from all parts to that sad sight , * * Alta rupes cujus è cacumine erecta summos turba libravit pedes , &c. Some there were who stood upon the ruins of the old decay'd Buildings , others whose legs trembled under them , because they were mounted a little too high , &c. People that have the patience to speak or hear such idle stuff , are so little inclin'd to weep , that they had need have notice , as the mercenary Mourners of old had , when 't is time to set up their Whine .

The Second thing we think necessary for the well managing the Passions , and to make the Auditors sensible of them , is to insert them in the Poem pure and disengag'd from every thing , that may hinder them from producing their due Effect .

'T is necessary then , to avoid the vicious Multiplicity of Fables , where there are too many Stories , too many Fables , too many Actions , the Adventures too much divided and hard to be remembred , and such Intrigues as one can't easily comprehend . All this distracts the Mind , and requires so much attention , that there is nothing left for the Passions to work upon . The Soul should be free and disengag'd , to be the more sensible of them . We destroy our true sorrows , when we divert our thoughts another way : And how contrary will these troublesome Applications be to the Fictions and Movement of Poems ? Of all the obstacles that destroy the Passions , the Passions themselves are not the least . They fight with and destroy one another : And if a Man should mix together a Subject of Joy and a Subject of Sorrow , he would make neither of them sink deep . * * Non ut placidia cocant immitia . Horace informs us , that no Poetical License will allow of this sort of mixture .

The very nature of these Habits impose this Law . The Blood and Animal Spirits cannot move so smoothly on in their usual way at quiet , if at the same time they are stop'd and retarded by some Violence , such as Admiration causes . Nor can they be in either of these two Motions , whilst Fear contracts them from the external parts of the Body to make them rally about the Heart : Or whilst Anger sends them into the Muscles , and makes them act there with a Violence so contrary to the operations of Fear . A Poet then should be acquainted with both the Causes and the Effects of the Passions in our Souls . 'T is there we are more sensible of them , and know them better than in the Blood and the Animal Spirits . This Knowledge , and the justness of his Genius will make him manage them with all the force , and the effects they are capable of . And here we will propose two Examples of that which we have said concerning the Simplicity and the Disengagement of each Passion .

The Admirable must needs be predominant in the Warlike Vertues of a Maid ; and this is the Passion Virgil makes use of in the Episode of Camilla : And on the contrary he has made Pity to reign in that of Pallas . This passion agrees very well with this young Prince who is one of the Heroe's Party . But the Poet does not mix these two Passions together . He only shows in Pallas all that ordinary Courage that a young Man is capable of . He fights Turnus , but did not go out to attack him : He does not so much as wound him , nor put him in the least danger ; he only attends his coming , and * * Aut spoliis ego jam raptis laudabor opimis , Aut letho insigni . Aen. 10. speaks to him more like one that fear'd not death , than one who expected to kill him . He is kill'd at the first blow ; and there is nothing extraordinary in it . But there is something more than ordinary in the Lamentation which Aeneas and the unhappy Evander made upon his Death .

Camilla on the contrary , made her self admir'd by a Valour becoming a Hero ; but she dies without being pitied . That which Diana says upon the Subject , deserves not the name of a Lamentation in comparison to that which Aeneas and Evander made for Pallas . Besides , the Speech of Diana is said before her Death , and is not in a place where it might have any great effect . In short , Camilla is kill'd , she is reveng'd , and nothing more said about it . How many Poets are there , that would have bestow'd a Lover or two upon her , and endeavour'd to make an Episode as moving as that of Clorinda , and Tancred ? This Beauty did not escape Virgil's view . * * Multae illam frustra Tyrthena per oppida matres Optavere nurum . Aen. 10. He says , that several Italian Dames courted her for their Sons . This Reflection shews us , that his thoughts were upon every thing , and that it was not without choice and judgment , that he omitted that which would have appear'd so beautiful to other Poets . But he was not willing to spoil the Vnity of the Passion , nor put a stop to its effects .

CHAP. X. How the Narration ought to be Active .

THE Epick Narration ought to be Active . This Qualification is so necessary to it , that Aristotle's Expression herein seems to confound the Epopéa with the Tragedy . 'T is by this he begins to lay down Rules for this first sort of Poem . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 23. 'T is requisite , says he , that the Epick Fables be Dramatick , like those that are in Tragedy . Now that which makes Tragedy Dramatick , and upon the account of which it has the Name which signifies to † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Act , is , that the Poet never speaks in it ; and that every thing is represented by the Personages that are introduc'd , and who alone Act and speak therein . From whence we learn , that since Aristotle requires this Qualification likewise in the Epopéa , he thereby orders , that the Personages speak likewise in this kind of Poem .

Nor does he hereby exclude the Narration of the Poet. This can never be ; since he himself says that the Epopéa is an Imitation carried on by a Narration ; and that in truth the Narration of the Poet is its Form , which distinguishes it the most Essentially from the Actions of the Theatre . But he means , that these two things ought to be so mix'd , that the Personages speak very often . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . c. 24. Homer , says he , who merits so much praise in other things , is especially to be admired for this , that he has been the only Poet , who knew what he ought to do . For the Poet should speak but little . The Poetical Imitation consists not so much in what the Poet says , as in what he makes his Personages say : The other Poets shew themselves from the Beginning to the very End of their Poems . They imitate but seldom , and then they carry not on their Imitation very far . Homer uses a quite contrary method . After having said a very little himself , he presently introduces some one or other of his Personages . This is what Aristotle says , nor needs it any Comment. To this famous Example he has given us in Homer we might join that of the Latin Poet , who speaks less in his Aeneid , than he makes his Personages speak .

But the last Words of Aristotle are capable of two Interpretations ; the first is , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Ib. Homer says but little himself , and presently introduces a Man or a Woman , or something else that has Manners ; but without that Qualification he introduces nothing . So that all the Words which follow the mention of a Man or a Woman , signifie a Deity , or a feign'd person , which though in its own nature it has no Manners , yet has some in the Poem , into which Allegorically one may bring all manner of things as well as into other Fables .

For this thought is taken from the Nature of Fables in general . When they are divided into different sorts ; by the term Moracae , that is by the Manners that are attributed to something that has none , we understand those , where for the Personages we introduce Beasts , Plants , and such like things , which in their own Nature have no Manners . Thus , for instance , in the Fable of the Olive-Tree and the Reed , the Olive-Tree is proud and vaunts it self because it stands so firm as not to bend to ev'ry blast of Wind , as the Reed does . Whatever then is introduc'd into Fables ought so necessarily and essentially to have Manners , that the Author is oblig'd to bestow them upon things that naturally are not endued with them .

In short , if the names of Man and Woman which Aristotle makes use of , do not properly signifie Gods and Goddesses , he would without doubt have omitted a great part of Homer's Personages . He has done well then in adding , [ or some other thing that has Manners . ] And this will denote not only Apollo , Thetis , Jupiter , and such like Deities , who are angry , complain , and laugh as we do , but likewise the Horse Xanthus , that speaks in the Iliad ; the Horse Rhebus , which Mezentius speaks to in the Aeneid ; Ethon who laments the death of Pallas , and ev'n Fame who knows ev'ry thing , and takes such a pleasure in telling Tales ; the Winds that are so Mutinous and Seditious that they would have overturn'd the Globe , and dashed Heaven and Earth together by this time , if Jove had not taken care to set a King over them , who shuts them up close , and when he lets them out always keeps a strict hand over them . And this according to the first Interpretation is what Aristotle means , by these other things which have Manners , which the Poet introduces , and makes to speak in the Fable .

The other way of Interpreting this passage of Aristotle is to say , That he does not suppose that the Speeches the Personages are made to pronounce are the only means of making a Narration Active and Dramatick , but that 't is so , when the Manners are Apparent , whether by the Persons speaking or only Acting therein , or by any other way , supposing you have a mind to give this Precept a little larger extent . In this sense , not only the Speech of Dido to the Princess her Sister , to whom she discovers her passion for Aeneas , would be Dramatical ; but this qualification would be likewise in the Verses that go before , where one may observe the Agitations and the Disquietude of this Queen , who from the time she first fell in Love , had lost all her Quiet and Repose .

In this sense , the learn'd Discourse of Anchises to his Son in the sixth Book may be likewise reckon'd among the Dramatical passages . First , because 't is not the Poet that speaks , but one of his Personages . Yet I declare 't is my opinion , that this single Qualification is not a sufficient Reason why that which is spoken should be Dramatical , if beside that , there are not Manners to be observ'd therein . Now there are Manners in this speech of Anchises . That which he says there , is the Foundation of all the Morality , the Laws , and the Religion which Aeneas was going to Establish in Italy . So that the subject Matter of this Speech is a Moral Instruction wherein one may see the Immortality of the Soul establish'd ; and the Causes of the Passions and Manners both of the Living and the Dead . But that which makes most for our purpose is , that this Speech contains the Manners , Habits , and Condition of Anchises himself who spoke it , and of those who were in the same place with him . The Poet having us'd no small skill to engage him thereto : Each of us , † † Quisque suos patimur manes . Exinde per amplum Mittimur Elysium , & pauci laeta arva tenemus . Aen. 6. Says he , feel the torments that are proper to him ; then are we sent to the Elysian Fields , where we , a few in number , spend our time , &c.

But whatever Aristotle's sense is , he does not seem to favour the simple Explication of Arts or Sciences , which are without Manners , and without Action , and which have nothing of Morality in them . If a Man would speak like a Poet , he must Imitate Homer , and conceal these things under the Names and Actions of some feign'd persons . He will not say that Salt is good to preserve dead Bodies from Corruption and Putrefaction , and that Flies would presently fill them full of Maggots : But he will say , that Achilles designing to revenge the Death of Patroclus , before he perform'd the last Offices to his dead Body , apprehends that the hotness of the Season would corrupt it , and that the Flies that lighted upon his Wounds , would engender Maggots there . He will not barely say , that the Sea offers him a Remedy against the Putrefaction he was afraid of : But he will make the Sea a Divinity ; he will bring it in speaking : In a word he will say the Goddess Thetis comforts Achilles , and tells him , he might set his heart at rest , for she would go and perfume his Body with Ambrosia , which should preserve it a whole Year from Corruption . This is the way by which Poets , if they would imitate Homer , must speak of Arts and Sciences . One sees in this instance , that Flies breed Corruption , and fill dead Bodies with Maggots . One there sees the Nature of Salt , and the Art of preserving dead Bodies from Corruption . But all this is express'd Poetically , and with all the Qualifications requisite to that Imitation , which according to Aristotle is essential to Poetry : All is reduc'd into Action . The Sea is made a Person that speaks and acts , and this Prosopopoeia is attended with Passion , Tenderness , and Interest . In short there is nothing therein but what has Manners .

This Instance may suffice ; it is plain , obvious , and easie to be understood . We may for Diversion sake produce another from a Science a great deal more mysterious . The Chymists have too good an opinion of their Philosophy , and too much esteem for Virgil ; than to think he was wholly ignorant of their Art . There are some that observe , that he has express'd as clearly as themselves , some of their choicest Operations . These Gentlemen are not satisfied with ordinary Metaphors and Allegories , such as Poets use : But they carry on these Figures and Disguises to the utmost obscurity of a Riddle . No inconvenience then would follow , should they suppose the Hero of the Aeneid to be a Man who makes a discovery of that Gold , which is produc'd after a miraculous manner , and which is reproduc'd and increas'd incessantly from the very first time of its being discover'd . The principle of this happy discovery is Piety , Industry , á Genius , and the blessing of Heaven ; Aeneas was not deficient in any of these . But 't is requisite several things should be Divin'd ; For this reason Helenus sends Aeneas to Sibyl , he follows his advice , and sees the two birds of Venus . These are the two Extracts of Vitriol : For that green Mineral , which contains them , is a sort of Copper , that goes under the name of this Goddess . I omit the rest , and leave it as I found it in the Books where by chance I did read of it ; at least it will suit well enough with the Justice of that Advice Sibyl gives Aeneas upon the account of the difficulty of this discovery , and the small number of those who succeed in it ; and that lastly , as she says , this undertaking is not fit for a wise Man . But to return :

We may likewise reckon among the Subjects that are not Poetical , the Descriptions of Palaces , Gardens , Groves , Rivulets , Ships , and a hundred other Natural and Artificial things ; when they are too long , and made after a simple , proper manner , without Allegories . This is what Horace calls purple Shreds , which Poets sometimes place very ill , thinking that those faults will prove the finest Ornaments of their Works . Thô this may be good in the lesser Poems .

I believe I have already spoken in some other place concerning the manner of making the Narration Active , which is proper and essential to the Fable . And that is to reduce the Precepts and Instructions we would lay down , into Action . Virgil abounds with Instances of this nature . His Hero is a Legislator , but 't is in a Poem . So that he does not appoint that such a Sacrifice should be made , or such Ceremonies observ'd : But he does all this himself . He does not command one should submit to the Gods , nor does he prescribe a way how to punish the profane ; but he demonstrates at large the dreadful torments that attend these Miscreants .

CHAP. XI . Of the Continuity of the Action , and the Order of the Narration .

THe Continuity , which the Action ought to have in the Narration is a Consequence of what has been already said , and will serve as a Principle to that we are about to observe concerning the Order which the Poet ought to mind in the Recital of all his Action . 'T is upon this Principle we shall judge , when the Poet is permitted to begin the Narration by the beginning of his Action , and to relate every thing one after another , just as they happen'd and in their natural Order ; and when , on the contrary , he is oblig'd to invert this Order , and make use of the Artificial one , beginning his Poem by the Incidents of his Action , which happen last perhaps in order of time .

In the first place we will treat concerning Continuity . From the time the Poet begins to rehearse his Subject , from the time he opens his Poem , and brings his Personages , if I may so say , upon the Stage ; he ought so to continue his Action to the very end , that none of the Personages be ever observ'd to be Idle , and out of Motion .

This Continuity is sometimes to be met with in the Action it self , and in the first Model of the Fable . Of this Nature is the Action of the Iliad . Apollo is provok'd , and sends the Pestilence into the Grecian Army . Agamemnon pacifies his Anger , the Soldiers recover of their distemper , and afterwards Fight . Patroclus and Hector are kill'd , their Funeral Obsequies are over ; and so the Action Ends in less than fifty Days without any Interruption and Discontinuity .

But when the Action lasts for several Years , as in the Odysseïs and the Aeneid , it cannot be Continu'd , thô 't were interrupted by nothing else but the Winter-season , a very unfit time for Wars and Voyages , which are the usual Subjects of Poems . Vlysses tarries a whole Year with Circe , and seven with Calypso : And Aeneas spent several Years in Thrace , where he does nothing worthy to be recited by an Epick Poet. And perhaps he was more than a Year in Sicily during his Fathers Sickness , and their Mourning for his Death . So that the Actions of these two Poems are not Continued . But thô the Actions are not Continu'd , yet the Narration ought to be so , as we hinted before .

There is no difficulty in managing the Actions that are Continu'd . The Poet has nothing to do but Rehearse them in their Natural Order , and relate the things one after another , just as they happen'd : This is what Homer has done in his Iliad .

When the Action is long and Discontinu'd , the Poet relates it in an Artificial Order . He takes nothing for the Matter of his Narration , but what towards the End of the Action has something of Continuity in it ; and for his own share he only relates this part . For this reason Virgil has begun his Recital just after Aeneas left Sicily , where Anchises dy'd : And Homer at the very first makes his Hero quit the Isle of Ogyges , after he had staid there seven Years , all which time the Poet le ts pass before the opening of his Poem . In the Sequel of the Discourse , some probable and natural occasion arises for Repeating the most considerable and necessary things which went before these beginnings . The love Dido conceiv'd for Aeneas made her extreamly curious to know his adventures . This Passion made the Recital thereof so Natural , that the * * Iliacosque iterum demens áudire labores Exposcit , pendetque iterum narrantis ab ore . Aen. 4. Poet thought himself oblig'd to make it more than once . The Phaeacans indeed had no Interest in the fortune of Vlysses ; but the Poet supply'd that by making these dull Fellows mightily in love with Romantick Adventures .

This Artificial Order divides the Action into two Parts very different from each other . The principal Part contains that which the Poet relates . He takes but a little Matter , but he treats of it amply , and with all the Pomp and Majesty his Art can furnish him with . The other Part is a great deal larger in the Number of its Incidents , and in its Duration ; but 't is of less Compass should you reckon the Verses it takes up , and consequently in the Circumstances and Movements which make a great part of the Beauties of the Poem . But yet , if among the Incidents which the Poet is oblig'd to insert in that which we here call the Second and Least part of his Work , there should be any one Important Incident , he may treat of this more largely than of the rest , as Virgil has done the Taking of Troy . 'T is true one may not treat of many of them after this manner : The rest should be more concise . Besides one sees a great deal of Difference between the Death of Priam describ'd in the Recitals of the second Book , and the Death of Camilla related by the Poet in the Eleventh . For thô that of Camilla is doubtless less considerable as to the Fable , yet the Poet extends it more by half than that of Priam.

These two Parts of the Epick Poem may be compar'd to two of the Dramatick : † † Aut agitur res in Scenis aut acta refertur . Hor. Poet. One of which is Acted upon the Stage before the Spectators ; and the Other comprehends whatsoever is done behind the Scenes , and which we come to know of purely by the Recitals which the Actors make . * * Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem , Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidellibus . Ibid. This last is less moving than the other ; And let Aeneas's sorrow for his first Wife Creüsa be never so great , yet her Death has nothing in it , whereby it deserves to be compar'd to that of Dido .

The Division of the Dramatick Action we are now speaking of , † † Non tamen intus Digna geri promes in scenam , multaque tolles Ex oculis , quae mox narret facundia praesens . Nec pueros coram populo Medea trucidet , &c. Ibid. Gives the Poet an Advantage of keeping from the Spectators view , whatever would offend them ; either by its being two horrible , as a Mother's butchering her own Children ; or by its being too incredible , as the Metamorphoses of a Man into a Serpent or a Bird : Whereupon these things should only be related . So likewise the Division of the Epick Action gives the Poet liberty to retrench from this Action whatever would cause a Confusion in the Poem . The things that are improper for the Epopea are not of the same nature with those , which ought to be excluded the Theatre , since that which is good in a Dramatick Recital , is likewise so in an Epopéa , which only discovers things to us by Reciting them . But on the contrary , the things , that confound the Epick Poem , are such as are too languishing , and which cannot admit of that Action and Motion , which are the proper Ornaments of this sort of Poem . And this is what * * Et quae desperet tractatu nitescere posse , Relinquit : Poet. Horace orders to be excluded thence .

And in truth how could Virgil make his Readers endure Aeneas's constant Attendance at his sick Father's bed , together with the Medicines , and Fomentations which ought to be made use of to recall the Spirits , and the Natural Heat into the cold Limbs of this aged Prince ? And the sorrow too of Aeneas , which ought to have been very great , would have been but a sorry Ornament of a Poem : The Readers would not have been affected with them . Would they have bestow'd one tear upon the Natural death of a person of his Age , who had so little to do in this Poem ? Therefore has the Poet very judiciously drawn a Veil over all these things .

By this means , the Artificial Order cuts off the languishing and unpleasant Incidents , and the Intervals of time that are void of Action , which hinders the Continuity thereof : And † † Vehemens & liquidus puroque simillimus amni . Hor. Poet. by these Retrenchments it gives the Poem that continu'd force , which makes it run smoothly on throughout the whole , and bestows on it those Beauties which the Action in it self has not . * * Semper ad eventum festinat , & in medias res , Non secus ac notus auditorem rapit . Hor. Art. Poet. By this means it hastens towards a Conclusion , and at first transports the Readers into the Middle of its subject Matter , and always entertains in them a desire and expectation to see the events as soon as possible .

Our Poets begin their Narration so nigh the End , that the Reader imagines the Poem would End within a few Verses . In the Odysseïs , the Gods order Mercury to go to the Isle of Ogyges , where Vlysses was detain'd by Calypso . He was to charge that Goddess to give him leave to depart , and furnish him with ev'ry thing that was necessary for his journey to Ithaca .

Virgil approaches still nearer to a Conclusion . His Hero has already left Sicily , and is upon his Journey to Italy . The second Part begins much after the same Manner : Aeneas arriving at the Country which the Fates had promis'd him , finds there the Gods and Men who waited his coming with Impatience ; and King Latinus offers him his Daughter Lavinia , sole Heir to his Crown , in Marriage . Who would think then but this Hero was very well settled , and the Poem at an end ? But a Storm casts him upon Carthage and furnishes the Poet with what fills the first Part. The jealousie of Turnus , who pretends Lavinia was promis'd to him , and was his due , opposes the Settlement of the Trojans , and affords subject Matter for the last six Books .

The Beginning of the Action is resum'd so pertinently that these large Recitals of Aeneas and Vlysses make no Interruption . Aeneas relates all that preceded his arrival at Carthage , and then the Poet undertakes to tell what happen'd to him in that City . This series of things is so exact , that the first Book may pass for a mere Prologue , which informs us of the Action in general , and which in perticular discovers the Humors and Interest of the persons that were to appear in Play . The Poet's practice is the same in his lesser Episodes . Venus so resumes the Story of Dido , and Diana that of Camilla , that what in this Poem follows the Recitals of these two Goddesses , is the natural Consequence of what they related . We may observe the same Order in the Odysseïs . But the Death of Archemorus , the funeral Sports , and the March of the Argives towards Thebes , are by no means the Consequences of that which is contain'd in the Recital of Hypsipyle .

If our Poets had made the Recitals of Vlysses and Aeneas at several times they could not have connected them to the Action that would have follow'd , and the Order would have been less exact , and more irksome to the Readers .

Let us now in a few Words sum up all that has been said concerning the Continuity of the Epick Narration , and the Order Homer and Virgil have observ'd therein .

They have so begun , that when once their Personages have made their appearance , they never ceas'd from Acting till the End of the Poem . For this purpose , when the Epick Action was Continu'd and of a few Months duration , as that of the Iliad ; the Poet has related it himself in the Natural Order . But when it lasted for several Years , as the two Others did , the Poets observ'd an Artificial Order , and the last part of their Subject that was only Continu'd , was all that they themselves related . They made their Heroes relate all that went before , and that in one speech , made upon a probable Occasion . They plac'd these Recitals so well , that the things related therein , precede immediately , and without any Interruption those which the Poet at last relates himself . So that neither the Mind , nor the Memory of the Readers are at a loss to rejoyn the Consequence of the Incidents , which they read in the Poem .

CHAP. XII . Of the Duration of the Narration .

ACCORDING to the Idea we have been proposing concerning the Continuity and the Order of the Narration ; 't is requisite we should say thus much concerning its Duration , viz. That the space of a Year is to the Epick Narration , what the space of a Day is to Tragedy ; and that the Winter is as improper for this great Work , as the Night is for the Theatre ; since both being void of Action , make a vicious Interval , and an irregular Discontinuity in these Poems . So then , the Duration of the Epick Narration only lasts one Campaign , as the Duration of the Dramatick Action lasts an Artificial Day .

But we may carry on this Parallel a little farther , and say , that as the Time for the Theatral Representation is under debate amongst Learned men , and the Practice of the Ancients has its obscurities , which ev'ry one interprets in favour of himself , either for the Natural , or the Artificial day : So the precise time of the Epopéa admits of dispute ; for the Practice of Virgil in this matter is not very clear .

First it may be said that the Narration of the Aeneid lasts a Year and some Months . And thus the account may go . Aeneas parting from Sicily after he had interr'd his Father there , returns thither again a Year after , and there celebrates his Anniversary on the very Day he dy'd on . † † Annus exactis completur mensibus orbis , Ex quo relliquias divinique ossa Parentis Condidimus terrâ , moestasque sacravimus aras . Jamque dies , ni fallor , adest , &c. Aen. 5. 'T is a full Year , says Aeneas , since we interr'd my Father , and now we are return'd hither again the same day he dy'd on . So that the Narration beginning when Aeneas left Sicily , just after his Father's death , that makes a whole Year to the Sports of the fifth Book . By this means the time that is requisite for the rest of this Book , for the Sixth , and for the Wars of Italy , will be added to the Year .

One may reduce this Narration into a precise Year , by saying , that these Verses cited out of the fifth Book , do indeed inform us , that it was a full Year since Aeneas had interr'd his Father in Sicily ; but that neither these Verses nor any others intimate that he left Sicily immediately after this Action . One may then with freedom suppose that he tarry'd there as long a time , as was afterwards requisite for his Settlement in Italy . From whence one will inferr that the Narration is compris'd within the compass of a Year of twelve Months , and no more .

Each of these Opinions supposes that the Winter is comprehended in this Narration , and that Aeneas spent the whole of that with Dido , in Africk , as the Poet plainly says in this Verse spoken by Fame . Nunc Hyemem inter se luxu quam longa fovêre .

A third Opinion supposes that the word Hyems in this Verse should not be understood for the Winter-season ; but that it signifies , the same thing which it does in other passages of this very Book , that have a necessary relation to this . * * Dum pelago desaevit hyems , & aquosus Orion . Quin etiam hyberno moliris sidere classem . Now in those other passages it does not signify the Winter , but a Season which the Rising of Orion renders tempestuous , and that happens in the Summer ; for this Constellation rises about the Summer Solstice . So that the Poet had only a mind to tell us , that Aeneas indulg'd himself in the Amours of Dido , all that time , wherein the Rising of Orion , for about six Weeks , made him afraid to put to Sea , and excus'd him from complying so readily to the Orders of the Gods , that summon'd him to Italy .

By this means all the Narration of the Aeneid will be reduc'd into the Compass of one single Campaign , making it to begin in Summer , and to conclude before the End of Autumn in the same Year . This Opinion is grounded upon several Expressions of Virgil , which seem more exact than the former , thô less agreeable to several Interpretations . Aeneas leaves Sicily , and is cast upon the Coasts of Africk in the Summer ; and this Summer is already the seventh since the taking of Troy . This is what the Poet says in the person of Dido , when she receives this Hero into Carthage . † † Nam te jam septima porsat Omnibus orrantem terris & fluctibus ●●stas . Aen. 1. This is now the seventh Summer since your Travels over so many Countries , and so many Seas . He spends in Carthage neither the Winter , nor any part of Autumn ; but he parted thence before the End of Summer . He arrives at Sicily and there keeps the Anniversary of Anchises at the end of the same Summer he came to Carthage in ; since the Poet says that this likewise was the seventh . * * Septima post Trojae excidium jam vertitur aestas . Aen. 5. This is now the end of the seventh Summer since the Ruin of Troy . Lastly , the Poem ends before Autumn does , since the day before the Death of Turnus , the Woods had still their Leaves on , and cast their shadow . The Poet says , that † † Est in anfructu vallis accommods fraudi , Armorumque dolis ; quam densis frondibus atrum Urgez utrinque latus . Aen. 11. Turnus lay in Ambush in a Valley where the thickness of the Leaves and the Shade favour'd very much his design . By this means the Narration of the Aeneid will comprise only one Campaign , and be all included within the two Seasons of Summer and Autumn : * * Cum subito assurgens fluctu nimbosus Orion . In vada caeca tulit . Aen. 1. Beginning at the Solstice and Rising of Orion , which cast Aeneas into Africk ; and ending before the Frosts of † † Autumni frigore primo Lapsa cadunt folia . Aen. 6. Autumn had strip'd the Leaves off the Trees .

As there are Reasons for both sides , so there are Difficulties in both . Some of them are reply'd to : And for those that seem unanswerable , we say , that the Aeneid being uncorrect , we should not Wonder if we cannot understand all .

Homer is a great deal clearer . He has made an exact journal of the time he allows his two Poems .

The Iliad begins with a Plague , which lasts ten Days . The Poet has allow'd as many for the Grecians recovery . The Battles , that follow next , end the fifth Day . After that eleven Days are spent in the Funeral Rites of Patroclus , and eleven more likewise in the Funeral of Hector , and then the Poem Ends. The twice ten at the Beginning , and the twice eleven at the End make just two and forty Days , to which add the five in the Middle , and the whole Duration of the Action and the Narration amounts to seven and forty Days .

The Days are not so well rang'd in the Odysseis , but the Account is altogether as exact . The Poem opens with Minerva . She frees Telemachus from the dangers he was in at Ithaca , and conducts him to Pylos . The fourth Day she goes up to Heaven again , and brings it about that Calypso be ordered to dismiss Vlysses . On the morrow he begins a Ship , and in twenty Days finishes it ; the twenty fifth he sets Sail , and after a Voyage of twenty Days is cast upon the Island of Corfu , There he tarries three Days with Alcinous . All this makes one and fifty Days from the first opening of the Poem to the Arrival of Vlysses in his own Country . Eight and twenty of them he spent with Calypso , reckoning the four that preceded the building of his Ship ; three and twenty Days more he is upon his Journey , part of which he spent at Sea , and part with Alcinous . A night after he arrives in Ithaca . Four Days he remains incognito at Eumeus's Country House . On the fifth he went to his own Palace , where he was in disguise two Days , taking an account of what had happen'd and squaring his Actions accordingly . The next night he kills his Rivals , and on the morrow makes an end of discovering himself , and re-adjusting all his Affairs . Therefore adding these seven Days to the one and fifty before ; the Duration of the Narration in this Poem amounts to eight and fifty Days .

As for the Seasons of the Year the Poet gives us an occasion to guess something about it . In the Iliad where there is more Action and Violence , the Days are longer than the Nights , and the Season very hot . And on the contrary , Homer has assign'd longer and cooler Nights to the Prudence of Vlysses ; placing the Maturity of Autumn in the Odysseis , as he has the Contagious heats of the Summer in the Iliad .

The Practice of Homer then is without doubt to reduce the Duration of the Epick Narration into the Compass of a Campaign of a few Months . But the Difficulty of knowing the design and intention of Virgil , is the reason why 't is question'd , whether one might not advance it to the Compass of a whole Year or more , and whether the Winter season ought in reason to be excluded thence .

I found my self insensibly ingag'd in the Examen of this particular question : I found it a great deal larger than I imagin'd , and I have discours'd very amply upon it , from whence several things may be deduc'd , that in my mind are of no small use for the understanding of the Aeneid . I here propose this Question about the time by way of Problem , and freely leave others to determine and judge what they please .

But yet I say , that in this Uncertainty , two Reasons rather incline me to a single Campaign than a whole Year .

The first is , the Practice of Homer , which the Latin Poet commonly proposes as his Exemplar , and who by wise men has been esteemed the most excellent Model for Poets to imitate . This Reason makes so much the more for me in this Treatise of the Epick Poem , because 't is founded upon that Relation that is observable between the Practice of Virgil and that of Homer , the Rules of Horace , and those of Aristotle .

The other Reason is still more to my purpose ; and that is , that this reducing of it to one single Campaign , is more conformable to that Idea I have proposed concerning the Fable , and the Design of Virgil in this Poem .

We have already considered Aeneas as a Legislator , and Founder of the Romans Religion . He is so exact in observing all the Ceremonies which were performed for the Dead , that there is not the least colour he should omit one so considerable , as is that of Mourning , especially for the Death of his Father , for which he spares no cost . This high Veneration he has for him , makes one of the principal Qualities of his Character , and almost throughout the whole regulates the general Character of the Poem .

Now the Mourning of the Romans consisted in two things : the one is its Duration , which lasted ten Months : the other is , that the Romans in this ominous and inauspicious time never undertook any thing of consequence . How then could Aeneas dare to undertake his Settlement in Italy , which was then a business of the highest Consequence to him ? So then , he was oblig'd to stay in Sicily full ten Months after the Death of his Father ; and having stay'd less than two Months at Carthage , he returned to Sicily to celebrate the Anniversary of his Death , on the same day he arriv'd there .

This agrees very well with the Expressions of the Poet which we have already cited . For the Anniversary happens at the end of the seventh Summer , a little more than a Month after the Solstice and rising of Orion . Aeneas then leaving Sicily in Summer during the Rising of this Constellation , which rais'd the Tempest in the first Book , he could not leave it the same Summer Anchises died , but must needs have left Sicily the Summer following , which is the seventh as the Poet says , and the same in which he returns to the Anniversary . By this means , he must needs have pass'd the Autumn , the Winter , and the Spring in Sicily , and have tarried there more than nine Months before his parting for Carthage ; but he went out and came back again to it the same Summer .

In the other Opinions I neither find the Conformity of Virgil with Homer , nor the Observation of the Roman Mourning , to which I really think Aeneas was oblig'd as much as he was to the other Ceremonies in which he was so punctual . But these Reasons which make for me may not perhaps make for others . I only propose them as I was oblig'd . 'T is for Philosophers and Criticks to examine things , to propose Reasons , and to make them intelligible , and 't is for the Reader to draw his Inferences .

Monsieur Bossu's Treatise OF THE EPICK POEM . BOOK IV. Concerning the Manners of the Epick Poem .

CHAP. I. Concerning the Manners in General .

UNder the name of Manners we comprehend all the natural or acquired inclinations , which carry us on to good , bad , or indifferent actions . This Definition contains three things , The first is the Manners themselves which we call Inclinations , whether they have their source and origin in our Souls , such as the Love of Sciences and Vertue ; or whether they proceed from the constitution of the Body , as Anger , and the Rest , which we have in common with the Brutes . The second thing is the cause of those Manners , which is either Nature , or our Choice , and Industry , according as they are either natural or acquir'd . The third thing , is the effect of the Manners , namely Actions whether good as that of Aeneas , or bad as that of Achilles or indifferent as that of Vlysses .

Those Manners are good , which incline us to Vertue , and Vertuous Actions ; those Bad which incline us to Vice and Sin ; and those are Indifferent which incline us to indifferent Qualities and Actions .

A right distinction should be made between Real Vertues , and those that appear such , and are only mere Qualities . The Real Vertues , such as Piety , Prudence , and the like , make those who are Masters of them Good , Praise-worthy , and Honest-men . But Real Vices , such as Impiety , Injustice , Fraud , and the like , corrupt and vitiate those , who are tainted with them . Meer Qualities in their own Nature produce neither of these two effects , such as Valour , Art , the Knowledge of Sciences , and the like . Solomon could still preserve the Knowledge of the Sciences even when he was become an Idolater . Aencas and Mezentius were both Valiant , yet one was a Pious and a good Man , the other an Atheistical and profane fellow .

'T is farther observable that among the Inclinations , there are some which belong more peculiarly to some particular Adventure , and that are only of Use upon certain Occasions : Such for instance are Valour , Clemency , and Liberality . Others are more Universal , and appear in every thing , such as are good Nature and a passionate Temper . For a Man may be passionate , and violent , not only in War , but at a Council board , and upon all other occasions , as Achilles was ; or he may be mild and good-natured even in the heat of Battle , as Aeneas . We shall call this last species of general and Universal Manners the Character of such or such a Person , and will treat of it more particularly .

The Causes of our Manners are either wholly External , or wholly Internal , or they may be considered as partly External , partly Internal . The External Causes are God , the Stars and our Native Country . The mixt Causes are our Parents and Education . The internal Causes are the Complexion , the Sex , the Passions , and the Actions whereby we contract these habits .

The effects of our Manners are the Discourses , the Designs , and the Essays we make to do such or such a thing , and the Good , Bad , or Indifferent Actions .

Poetry is not the only thing , where the Manners are of use . Philosophers , Historians , Geographers , and Rhetoricians treat of them as well as Poets . Each of these in his own way . But the Poet has need of all . And beside these , there are a vast number of things , which he is indispensibly obliged to be acquainted with , that he may make his Personages speak , and act regularly . Whatsoever has been said on this Subject , yet I cannot wholly pass it over . I shall only content my self to apply it to the practice of Virgil. Therefore before I treat of the Poetical Manners , I will explain at large what I have proposed concerning the Causes of the Manners , and I shall say something concerning the Manners that are Foreign to Poetry .

CHAP. II. Of the Causes of the Manners .

GOD is the chief of all the Causes in general , we shall look upon him here in particular , as the most universal and first cause of the Manners . He is the Author of Nature , and disposes of all things as he thinks fit . This cause renders the Manners of Aeneas good even to admiration . 'T is superfluous to show how this Hero is favour'd by Jupiter , since we see Juno , who prosecuted him , loves and esteems his person .

The Stars , and principally the Signs and Planets , are the second Cause of the Manners . The * * Non obtusa adeo gestam is pectora Teucri : Nec tam aversus equos Tyria Sol jungit ab urbe . Aen. 1. Poet takes notice what influence they have upon Men. When in the person of Dido , He proves from them that the Tyrians are not so dull , but that they know what esteem ought to be had for Virtue . But is it by chance , think ye , that this Poet , who elsewhere was so skillful in Astronomy , causes the Planets to act in favour of his Hero conformable to the Rules of Astrologers ? Of the seven there are three that favour him , Jupiter , Venus , and the Sun : All three act visibly in the Poem in behalf of Aeneas . There are three others , whose influences are Malignant , Saturn , Mars , the Moon or Diana . If they act 't is indeed against the Hero . But they appear so obscurely that one may say Virgil has hid them below the Horizon . Lastly , Mercury , whose Planet is said to be good with the good , and bad with the bad , acts visibly as the good Planets do , but he never acts alone , 't is Jupiter that always sends him out . And this is the Horoscope which the Poet makes for the Birth of the Roman Empire .

The third external cause of the Manners is the Country in which one is Born . Virgil bestows great commendations on the Country of his Hero , and advances it far above Greece . * * Fracti bello fatisque repulsi Ductores Danaum : Aen. 2. As long as Troy was assaulted fairly by Force , it always remained Victorious . 'T was only the fraud and Treachery of the Grecians , that gain'd the mastery over the generosity of the Trojans . So that according to their Countries , the one Party are brave and generous , the other Knaves and Cheats ; the one Civil , the other Barbarous ; the one Hardy , the other Nice , &c.

After these Causes , that are properly external , follow next the Fathers and Mothers whose blood is derived down to their Children . We cannot say that the Parents are such Causes as are altogether foreign to the Inclinations of those who are formed from their substance . Let us apply this to our Subject . Aeneas sprang from the Royal Blood of Troy . The first Princes of this Family were as Virtuous , as Powerful . But in process of time these two things were divided into two different branches . Ilus left the Crown to Laomedon , and his Virtue to Assaracus . Priam and Paris were Heirs to the first , Anchises and Aeneas to the second . By this means the Poet bestows upon his Hero the good inclinations of his Ancestors before ever he restored to him the Regal Power . His Piety deserv'd the Sceptre of his Fathers , and the perfidiousness of the other branch was the cause that Priam's Family was extirpated . The Innocent themselves felt likewise the smart of it , as * * Postquam res Asiae , Priamique evertere gentem , Immeritam visum superis , &c. Polydorum obtruncat . Aen. 3. Virgil observes of Polydore . This is more clearly expressed by the Greek Poet. † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Iliad . He lays down the genealogy of Priam and Aeneas , and adds that Jupiter hated the Family of Priam , and that notwithstanding Aeneas was to command the Trojans and transmit the Empire to his Posterity . These are the advantages Aeneas derived from his Father . His Mother was the Goddess , from whom he deriv'd the Character of Good Nature , and Meekness which was the finest Ornament of his Manners .

Parents likewise hand down to their Children , their Nobility , which often makes a great deal of difference between those , that are Noble , and those that are not . Now that which happens often , or ordinarily in these things is the Rule which the Poet ought to go by . It would argue Ignorance , or Childishness to do otherwise : And one should fall under these Censures , if for instance , one should cause a Poetical person to be born under an unlucky Constellation , to whom we would give good inclinations and a happy fortune ; whatsoever Instances may be opposed against the pretended doctrine of Astrologers , yet that which is admirable , and extraordinary in Poets , does not consist in contradicting the common received opinion about these things .

Education is another Cause of the Manners which depends upon the two former , to wit , the Care and Quality of the Parents . Virgil has not forgot this Cause . Those likewise with whom one converses , contribute very much towards those various Inclinations that proceed from Education . Whether one suits himself to their Humour , or whether that conformity of Humours makes these Conjunctions , and presides o'er the choice of Friends , the Companions of Aeneas are good , sage , and pious Persons ? * * Ipse suas artes , sua munera laetus Apollo Augurium Citharamque dabat celeresque sagittas . Ille ut depositi proferret fata Parentis , Scire potestatem herbarum usumque medendi Maluit , & mutas agitare inglorius artes . Aen. 12. Japis his Physician prefers his Skill in Physick beyond the Glory of Arms , even in that only design of prolonging the life of his old Father .

Education depends likewise on the Government and the State , under which one is brought up . One conceives quite different Sentiments under a Monarchy , than one should do under a Common-wealth . This Point was of some moment to our Poet , who was willing to change the Inclinations of his Audience . 'T is upon this account that the Inclinations of all the Personages in the Aeneid are unanimously for a Monarchy . And though the Thuscans who were used cruelly by Mezentius , revolt from him , and drive him thence ; yet this is not as the first Brutus did , to change the Face of the State , by banishing both the King and his Power together , but in order to submit themselves to a more just Monarch .

We may take into the number of mixed Causes , the Riches , the Dignities , the Alliances , and the other Goods of Fortune , which we possess ; upon which I will only make this Reflection : That a King , or General of an Army , do not always act in that Character .

Achilles was both . But he preserves nothing of his Sovereignty , but that Independency by which he refuses to obey Agamemnon , as otherwise he ought . The Fable requires only this , and Homer has said no more of it . His Achilles is rather a private Man , and a single Voluntier , who only fights in his own Quarrel , than a King or a General . So that nothing of all the good that is done any where else , but where he is present , is owing either to his Valour or his good Conduct .

Virgil's Hero is quite of another make . He never divests himself of his Dignities ; he acts in the full Character of a General . And this advances his Martial Atchievements to a higher pitch of Glory than those of Achilles . The Absence of both these Heroes gives their Enemies great advantage against them , and is an Evidence how great and necessary the Valour of both of them is . But this is peculiar to Aeneas , that whatever good is done in his Absence , is owing to his Conduct . Two things preserved the Trojans from the rage of Turnus : The one is the Rampart and Fortifications of the Camp they were intrenched in . Aeneas himself designed and over-looked these Works . The other is the good order they observed to defend themselves : And in this they did no more than what he ordered them at parting . And here is a Glory which the Hero in the Iliad can make no pretensions to ; and if one would compare both together , Achilles is a valiant Soldier , and Aeneas a compleat Commander .

The last Causes of the Manners , which we propounded , are purely internal . The chief and most general of these is the Complexion . Poets place high Characters upon Bodies of the largest size , and the finest make . * * Os humerosque Deo similis , Aen. 1. Virgil gives his Hero the Stature and Visage of a God : And he observes * that Vertue is most charming , when a good Soul is lodged in a Body Gratior & pulchro veniens in corpore virtus . Aen. 5. that resembles it .

The Complexion varies according to the difference of Ages and Sexes . Turnus is younger than Aeneas , because Aeneas ought to be sage and prudent , and Turnus furious and passionate like another Achilles . I will not transcribe here what Horace has writ concerning the Manners that are proper to every Age.

As for the Sex , Aristotle says in his Poetry , that there are fewer good Women than bad ; and that they do more mischief than good in the World . Virgil is but too exact in copying this Thought . Venus is the Mother and Protectress of Aeneas : She seems to be good-natured through the whole . Sibyl likewise favours him . Cybele and Andromache are well-wishers to him , and wish him no harm ; but they appear but little . For this small number of good Women , how many bad ones are there , or at least such as bring a great deal of Mischief upon this Hero ? Juno is his profess'd Enemy , and employs against him Iris , Juturna , and Alecto . Dido thought of ruining him at Carthage , and calls in to her aid her Sister , a Nurse , and an Inchantress . The Harpies drive him out of their Island . * * Trojae & Patriae communis Erynnis . Aen. 2. Helena is a Fury that ruines the Trojans and Graecians themselves . The Trojan Women , though his own Subjects , set his Fleet on Fire . Amata contemns the Order of the Gods , and the Will of the King her Husband ; and with the Latin Women first blows the Trumpet to Rebellion . † † Sylvia prima soror , &c. Aen. 7. Sylvia puts her upon it . The Women , that were most esteemed by this Hero , brought insupportable Troubles upon his Head . At the end of the Second Book , one may see his Sorrow for Creüsa . And ‡ ‡ Quid in eversa vidi crudelius urbe ? &c. Causa mali tanti conjux iterum . Aen. 6. the innocent Lavinia is the cause of all the Miseries he suffers in the six last Books .

Camilla bears Arms against him , but she gives us an occasion to make a more particular Reflection . Virgil , in her , has given us a pretty Example of the Inconstancy of the Sex . It seems as if this courageous Damosel was brought in to fight , only to teach other Women , that , War is none of their Business , and that they can never so far divest themselves of their natural Inclinations . There still remains something in them which will prove the ruine of themselves , and which is a great prejudice to those who relie upon them . The Poet does admirably apply this Point to the Manners of that Sex ; and makes use of this Heroine in the case , who seems to be wholly of another make . In the heat of the Battel she perceives a Warriour with rich Amour . She was presently for having the Spoils of this Enemy ; and the Motives the Poet gives her are looked upon as a Woman 's greedy Desire . This levity of the Sex makes Camilla forget her Dignity , and the taking care of her safety , and 't is followed with very mischievous Effects . She is killed , the Cavalry routed , and Aeneas preserved from an Ambuscado he was just falling into .

The Passions likewise are the internal Causes of the Manners . If we love any Person , we love all we see in him , even to his Failings . If we hate any one , we have an Aversion for even his Perfections : So great a Power has Passion over us . When Dido loves Aeneas , this Hero , in her Eye is nothing less than a * * Credo equidem , nec vana fides , genus esse Deorum . Aen. 4. God . † † Nec tibi diva parens , generis nec Dardanus autor , Perfide ! sed ditis genuit te cautibus horrens Caucasus , Hyrcanaeque admôrunt ubera tygres . Ibid. But is she incensed against him ? Then he is no longer one of Humane Race , but some hard hearted Rock of Mount Caucasus is scarce good enough to be his Father .

But the most excellent of all the Causes of each Man's Manners is his own Actions . This Cause imprints the strongest Habits . 'T is that in which we have the greatest share . 'T is that which creates to us the greatest Honour , if the Manners it produces be good ; and , which on the other hand is our greatest shame , if they be bad . Virgil has very divinely touched upon this Cause , when he says that next after God , Good Manners are the chiefest and the best Recompence of Good Actions . * * Quae vobis , quae digna , viri , pro talibus ausis Praemia posse rear solvi ? Pulcherrima primum Dii moresque dabunt vestri . Ye brave young Men , what equal Gifts can we ; What Recompence for such Deserts Decree ? The greatest sure , and best you can receive , The God's , your Vertue , and your Fame will give . [ Englished thus by Mr. Dryden . ]

CHAP. III. Concerning the Manners of other Sciences besides Poetry .

GEography , History , Philosophy , and Rhetorick , teach nothing concerning the Manners , but what the Poet should be acquainted with . We will only here make a slight Application of it to our Subject .

The Geographers in the Tracts they write concerning the Situation of the Seas and Continent , do likewise inform us of the diversity of States and Governments , of the Employments , the Inclinations , the Customs of the People , together with the Fashion of their Habits . The Speech of Remulus , in the Ninth Book of the Aeneid , is all Geographical . It contains the Education of the Italians , and their War-like Manners adapted to every Age ; and it ends with an Antithesis , wherein he reproaches the Trojans with the Effeminacy of their Clothing , as a certain Sign that their Inclinations were opposite to those he had been describing . There are several other Passages in the Aeneid , where this Effeminacy of their Apparel is described , and the Reproach of it cast upon Aeneas himself with some sort of Emphasis . But Virgil very dexterously turns off from his Audience , who were the Progeny of the Trojans , this small Reproach , which might else have reflected upon them . He says , that the Romans did not derive from their Fathers any of that effeminate Fashion : But on the other hand , that the Trojans accommodated themselves to the more manly and generous Customs of the Italians .

History , as well as Geography , describes the Manners and the Customs of States , and People in general . But History adds likewise thereto the Inclinations and Manners of particular Persons , which it names . Both of them treat equally of the Manners as indifferent , writing with no other Design than to demonstrate them as they really are . 'T is true the Notices they give , serve for the Conduct of a Man's Life , and each Man is to look upon the Examples he meets with as so many Precepts , which teach him his Duty . But this Application does not so much belong to these two Arts , as to Moral Philosophy .

Poetry takes from History and Geography , what both of them say concerning the Morals . The Poet describes things in general , as Geography does , and usually it claps them under particular Names , as in History . Sometimes it joins both these two things together , and makes the Application of them it self . * * Accipe nunc Danaum insidias ; & crimine ab uno Disce omnes . Aen. 2. Virgil being about to describe the particular Manners of Sinon , advertises his Readers , that in the Villainy of this single Graecian one might discover the Wickedness of the whole Nation . Moral Philosophy contains in it the simple knowledge of the Manners , it suffers none that are either bad , or indifferent . It treats of them only with a design to render them good . The Vertues are always good . These it proposes that we may embrace them . The Vices are always evil , and it teaches how to avoid them . The Passions in themselves are indifferent , it corrects what is ill in them , and puts us in a Method how to make a right use of them , and bring them over to Vertue 's side . There are some Inclinations that are so indifferent they cannot alter their Property . Such are those of young Children before they are capable of Good or Evil. Philosophy looks upon them not to be so much Manners , as the cause of future Manners . We can produce an Instance of this without quitting our usual Guides . Horace is no less a Philosopher than he is a Poet. † † Servius Oppidius Canusi duo praedia dives Antiquo censu gnatis divisse duobus Fertur . Et haeo moriens pueris dixisse vocatis Ad lectum : Postquam te talos , Aule , nucesque Ferre sinu laxo , donare & ludere vidi : Te , Tiberi , numerare , cavis abscondere tristem . Extimui ne vos ageret vesania discors . Tu Numentanum , tu ne sequerere Cicutam . Quare per Divos oratus uterque Penates , Tu cave ne minuas , Tu , ne majus facias id Quod satis esse putat pater , & natura coercet . Lib. 2. Sat. 3. 'T is worth taking notice what he relates concerning a Man of Canusium , Servius Oppidius by Name . He had a plentiful Estate left him by his Progenitors . Before his Death he bequeaths two of his Lordships to his two Sons , and gave them this Advice : I have observed that you , Aulus , have managed your Play-things after a careless manner , either gaming , or giving them inconsiderately away : And you , Tiberius , on the other hand , are always counting your Trifles , seem very anxious , and look about for holes to hide them in . This makes me afraid you will both ruine your selves by two contrary Vices ; The one , by being as Prodigal as Numentanus ; The other as covetous as Cicuta . Wherefore I charge you both , and conjure you , by the Guardian-Gods of our Family , that you , Aulus , diminish nothing of the Estate I leave you , and that you , Tiberius , never increase it ; but live contented with what Nature , and your Father , think sufficient for you . This is the way Philosophy treats of the Inclinations of Children . The Conclusion , and all the Commands of this prudent Father , are for riper Age.

Virgil treats of the Doctrine of the Passions , not only as a Moral , but as a Natural Philosopher . He renders a Reason of these things from the Matter whereof Bodies are composed , and from the Manner whereby they are made , and united to the Souls . But he does it in a Poetical Way , and very suitably to his Subject .

As Rhetorick proposes a different End to it self , so likewise does it treat of the Manners after a different way . The Orator's Design is not to render his Audience better than they are ; he is contented if they are but convinced of that he undertook to convince them of . The better to effect this , he sides with their Humour , and their Interests , as far as his Cause will bear . He appears Modest , Prudent , and a Man of Probity , that we may hearken to him with Delight , that we may relie upon him , and that we may believe that he neither designs to impose upon us , or is in the wrong himself . He gives us a quite contrary Idea of those he speaks against . In a word , he never troubles his Head with considering which are his own true Inclinations , or what the Inclinations of others are , but studies to represent them all such as they should be , for him to gain his Cause ?

The Poet should know all this , that so he may the better make his Personages speak . We might say that our Poets might look upon the Ancestors of their Audience , as Orators do those in whose behalf they speak . Besides Virgil might have considered Dido as his Enemy . The Treachery of Hannibal , and the Carthaginians ; would have dispensed a Roman Poet from some Civilities , which else , perhaps , one might think were becoming him . But the Fable does sufficiently regulate the Manners of all the Personages , and 't is to this one should have the chiefest regard .

The Poet as well as the Orator has his Auditors . All the difference I find is , that they are not so few in number , nor so fickle , nor so subject to particular Passions and Inclinations . The Poet writes for his whole Country , he must be read every hour , at all times , and by sober Persons . He has nothing then to do , but to study in general the Humour of his own Nation , and the good Inclinations of his Prince , if he lives in a Monarchy as Virgil did . But if a Prince has bad Inclinations , and an Author is so complaisant as to spoil his Poem , the better to accommodate himself to them , he exposes himself to very shameful Censures .

The Poet , as well as the Orator and Philosopher , is obliged to appear a grave , prudent , and honest Man . For this reason , and because he is obliged to teach us Vertue , he is engaged to be perfectly acquainted with Morality , and to be truly vertuous . This is a practical Science ; and is not learnt by empty Speculations . It a good and solid Moral does not correct our Passions , 't is almost impossible but our Passions will make us think the Moral false . We are not apt to condemn those Faults in which we take delight . We had rather believe that there are not Vices , than acknowledge that we our selves are vicious . If Horace had reason to say , that Homer would not have given such Commendations of Wine if he had not lov'd it . What can one think of those who take so much Delight and Pleasure in that which is the most shameful and criminal in our Passions ? who make of them the most moving and tenderest Passages of their Poems ? and who turn all infamous Amours into such Gallantries as an honest man and a generous Cavalier may reckon among his good Fortunes ? One shall never make Vice odious , if one represent nothing of it but what is amiable and pleasant . Those who represent it only under a plausible Disguise , give us reason to think , that they only expose it more to view thereby , and that their Lives are of a piece with their Moral , and their Writings . If there are any Readers that are of the same mind , 't is not to those a Man should suit himself . This would be on the other hand to destroy the most essential Rules of Poetry , and the Fable . A pernicious Art is no Art , or at least one not to be tolerated . If there are no other Readers to be met with , and if a Poet is oblig'd out of Complaisance to be debauch'd , woe to those who encourage such a Corruption ; and who prefer the Glory of being Poets , to that of being honest Men.

These Reflections are not beside my Subject , since they serve to shew what is the Practice of Homer and Virgil. These Pagans have not sullied the Majesty of their Episodes by these vicious Delicacies . Ulysses is cold to Circe's Charms . He is melancholy with Calypso . Bryseis and Chryseis only inflame Agamemnon and Achilles with Anger . Camilla has no Gallants . There is scarce mention made of Turnus's Passion for Lavinia . And all the Amour of Dido is treated only as a vicious Treachery for which this misurable Queen is punish'd severely .

CHAP. IV. Of the Manners of Poetry .

THat which is peculiar to Poetry in the Doctrine about the Manners , is , to make the Reader know what are the Inclinations which the Poet bestows upon his Personages , whether good , bad , or indifferent , no matter which . Aristotle defines the Manners of Poetry thus : * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 The Manners , says he , are that which discovers the Inclinations of him that speaks , and that whereby we know on what he will determine , before one sees that he is carried that way or actually rejects it . From whence this Philosopher concludes , † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 That the Manners are not always in all sorts of Discourses . An Instance will clear this Definition .

In the first Book of Virgil , Aeneas appears to be very pious , and more forward to execute the Will of the Gods , than any other thing . In the fourth Book a very difficult Choice is proposed to him . On one side Gratitude , Love , Natural Tenderness , and several weighty Considerations , engage him not to part from Dido : on the other side , an express Order of the Gods commands him to Italy . Before any one sees what side he will take to , and on what he will resolve , That which he has said ought to have demonstrated what his Will and what his Inclinations are , and to what he will determine . His former Speeches which discover to me his future Resolution , are the Poetical Manners . These make one foresee that he would leave Dido , and obey the Gods : he does so : The Manners then are good , and duly order'd . If to stay with Dido , he had disobey'd the Orders of Jupiter ; the Manners would have been bad ; bad , because they would have made one foresee a Choice , and a Resolution quite contrary to that which he ought to take . But if nothing had foreshewn me the Resolution of Aeneas , nor what side he had taken to , nor the contrary , in this case there would have been no Manners .

Therefore , as in Philosophy the Manners are good when they make that Man so in whom they are ; and they are bad when they incline him to Vice and Evil Actions : and as in Rhetorick they are good when they manifest the Person that speaks to be honest , prudent , and sincere , and the Person against whom he speaks to be guilty of the contrary Vices ; and evil when he that speaks seems vicious , and imprudent ; and his Adversary sage , and well advised independantly from what they are in Reality : so likewise in an Epopéa the Manners are good when one may discover the Virtue or Vice , the good or bad Inclinations of those who speak or act ; but bad when a good man appears vicious , or a wicked man seems to have good Inclinations .

So that the Manners of Aeneas , and those of the Atheist Mezentius considered Poetically , are both equally good , because they equally demonstrate the Piety of the one , and the Impiety of the other , which are the Characters the Poet bestowed upon them , and under which they are always represented by him . But in the Hippolyte of Seneca the Manners of Phaedra's Nurse are very bad , because this Woman is very wicked , and speaks very fine things . At first she perswades this unhappy Queen , passionately in love with her Son-in-law , to the Virtue of Continence . * * Deum esse amorem rurpiter vitio favens Finxit libido ; quoque libe●ior foret , Titulum furori numinis falsi dedit . 'T is Passion , says she , which to countenance the Vice , is not ashamed to make Love a God ; and for a greater Licentiousness therein , it has disguised this infamous Brutality under the Name of a false Deity , &c. When a Body hears a long Speech full of those chaste Thoughts , would not one think that she who speaks is Chastity her self come down express from Heaven to banish from the Earth all unlawful Love ? But yet observe what a Part this Nurse acts in the remaining part of the Poem . 'T is she her self that speaks , and explains her Character . † † Si tam protervus incubat menti furor , Contemne famam ; fama vix vero favet , Pejus merenti metior , & pejor bono . Tentemus animum tristem & intractabilem . Meus iste labor est , aggredi juvenem ferum . Mentemque saevam flectere immitis viri . If the amorous Flame rages so much within your Breast , never value what the World says of it . Common Report seldom favours Virtue and Truth : but speaks favourably of the most profligate , and says worse of good men than of others . Let us try to bend the mind of this stubborn and untractable Youth . Let it be my Business for once . Let me take this rough Young-man to task , and for your sake touch the very heart of this resentless Creature . Here 's good Morality turn'd out of doors in an instant . Surely Seneca's Design in making her speak thus , was only to put her Audience upon admiring her fine Faculty of discoursing Pro and Con , and what a great many pretty Sentences she had got by heart . Let the case be how it will , since he had a design to make use of this Nurse to debauch the chaste Resolution of Hippolytus , he makes her speak well enough this second Speech , and he re-assumes the Poetical Goodness , when he quite the Moral Goodness , and when he makes her vent such profligate Maxims .

Since then the Goodness that is proper to the Poetical Manners is to make them appear such as they are ; it is necessary to observe , what are the things that discover to us the Inclinations of the Personages .

The first thing is the Speeches and Actions . ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Aristot . Poet. c. 15. There are Manners in a Poem ( says Aristotle ) if as we said the Speeches and the Actions discover to us any Inclination . The Poet makes his Personages speak and act as he pleases . So that these two things are owing to him , they are wholly at his disposal . And they are the foundation of all the rest . When the Manners are well exprest after this way , they are denoted purely and simply by the term Good ; and this * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Ibid. Goodness makes their first Qualification . Aristotle places it in the front of all the rest , that it may be the more exactly observed . † † Notandi sunt tibi mores . Poet. Horace likewise orders the Poet to be exact in demonstrating the Manners .

The second thing is the Knowledge which a Genius , Study , and Experience , gives us of the Inclinations , that are proper to each Person according to the Complexion , the Dignity , and all the other Causes whether natural or acquir'd , internal or external , all which we mention'd before . As soon as the Poet has given the Dignity of a King to one of his Personages , without hearing him speak , or seeing him act , we know that he ought to be grave , majestical , jealous of his Authority , and the like . The Inclinations should be suitable to that which the Poet has proposed ; and ‡ ‡ Convenientia singe . Hor. Poet. 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. this Conformity and Suitableness makes the second Qualification of the Manners .

The third thing is the Knowledge which we deduce from the Fable or the History . This sort of Discovery is comprehended under the Name of Common Opinion or Fame , for the Reasons we have already mentioned . So that when a Poet has nam'd Alexander , we know that the Inclination of this Personage is all for Greatness and Glory , and that his Ambition is larger than the Extent of the whole Earth . If he introduces Achilles , we know he is angry , passionate , and impatient . The Manners of these Heroes in the Poem should be like to that which Fame has reported of them ; and this Resemblance Famam sequere . Hor. Poet. 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. Poet. makes the third Qualification of the Manners .

Lastly , because the Poems may be divided into two parts , as the Aeneid , the one half whereof requires Piety and Patience , and the other Violence and War , a Man may fansie , according to these so different States , he may likewise make the Characters of his Hero different . And then the Manners of each Part will be good in particular . But because the Speeches and the Actions of the first Part have discovered the Inclinations which the Poet gives his Hero , and because the Reader sees 't is so in the Fable and History , and has the same Effect as common Fame ; this would be to offend against the first and third Qualification if we change the Character that is known : from whence it follows , that the Poet is oblig'd to make it constant and Even , that is , such at the End of the Poem , as it appear'd to be at the Beginning : and this † † Servetur ad imum Qualis ab incepto processerit & sibi constet . Hor. Poet. 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Ar. Poet. Evenness of the Character is the fourth Qualification of the Manners . So that there are four things to be observed in the Manners : first , that they be good ; secondly , suitable ; thirdly , likely ; and fourthly , even . These four Qualifications are comprehended in Aristotle's Definition ; so that if one should transgress any one of these , he would transgress this Definition by making us pass a wrong Judgment upon the Inolinations of a Personage , and the Resolutions he ought to take .

The most important and hardest thing is to distinguish these two sorts of Goodness in the Manners : the one , which we may call Moral Goodness , and which is proper to Vertue ; and the other Poetical , to which the most Vicious Men have as much Right as the Vertuous . It consists only in the Skill of the Poet , to discover rightly the Inclinations of those he makes to speak and act in his Poem . That which raises the greatest Scruple , is , that the Poetical Manners suppose the others ; and Aristotle not only speaks of these two sorts in his Poesie , but farther , he makes use of the same ‡ ‡ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Term to express these two sorts of Goodness .

To wind our selves out of this Difficulty , 't will not be amiss to begin here , by examining , whether according to Aristotle , the Poetical Hero ought necessarily to be an honest and vertuous Man . For if this be not so , then 't is plain that when Aristotle requires for the first and most principal Quality of the Manners that they be good , he would not be understood to speak of that Moral Goodness which makes Men good , and which is inseparable from Vertue . So that though we do not perhaps penetrate through all the Obscurity of this Expression , yet we shall at least know the bottom of his Thoughts . And since this Question is necessary , we shall not stick to add Reason , and the Authority of others , to that of Aristotle ; and that will establish it the better .

CHAP. V. Whether the Hero of the Poem ought to be an Honest Man , or no ?

THIS Question will seem unreasonable to those who have but one single Idea of their Heroes ; and who acknowledge none of that Name , but those excellent Men who are endued with every Virtue , are Masters of their Passions , and all their Inclinations , and whom an excellent and Divine Nature raises above the rest of Mankind . But neither the Ancient Poets , nor the Masters of this Art ever thought of placing their Heroes in so high a Sphere , without thinking it lawful to put them in a lower form : 'T is requisite then to make the same Distinction between a Hero in Morality , and an Hero in Poetry , as we did between Moral and Poetical Goodness , and to say that Achilles and Mezentius had as much right to the Poetical Goodness ; as Vlysses and Aeneas : So that these two cruel and unjust Men are as regular Heroes of Poetry , as these two Princes that are so Just , so Wise , and so Good .

In the Poem it self this Term admits of two sences . Sometimes it signifies indifferently all the persons of Note . So that not only Aeneas and Turnus , but likewise Entellus in the sports of the Fifth Book , and Misenus the Trumpeter of Aeneas in the Sixth , are styl'd Heroes by the Poet. But though the Name of Hero may be also bestow'd on other Personages , yet there is so particular an Application of it made to the first , that when one simply say ; the Hero , by that Name we understand only Achilles in the Iliad , Vlysses in the Odysseïs , Aeneas in the Latin Poem ; in a word the principal Personage in any Poem .

There is likewise a particular signification of the Word Heroick when 't is used to denote an Epopéa , and so distinguish this sort of Poem from others . Aristotle and Ovid give this Name not to the Poem , but to the Verses made use of therein , and which they likewise call Hexameter Verses . This last has been almost the only Name we have retain'd . If we should call Epick Poems Heroick Poems , because of the Heroick Verses that are made use of therein , one might with as much reason call the French Epopéas Alexandrine Poems , since the Verses they use in these Poems are called Alexandrines . And if the Name Heroick comes from the Personages of the Poem , who are styl'd Heroes ; Tragedy would be as much an Heroick Poem as the Epopéa would , since the Action and the Personages of Tragedy are no less Heroick , than the Action and the Personages of the Epopéa .

But I question whether these Reflections be so useful as to deserve so many Words . They may only serve to discover to us the different use of the Terms Hero , and Heroick among the Ancients , and the Moderns ; and to prevent condemning the first for such Notions , which they never follow'd . When we know that they did not affix the Idea of Vertue , to these Terms taken in a Poetical sense , that they never confin'd the Name of Hero only to the principal Personage in the Poem , and that they did not call the Epopéas by the Name of Heroick Poems : We shall not in these Works look for Examples of a real and excelling Vertue , and no one will wonder that Horace has said on the contrary , that all the Iliad where so many Hero 's lost their lives , contains nothing but Injustice , Violence , Passion , and Wickedness .

I have omitted one signification of the word Hero , which may be considered as Moral , and as Poetical . In this sense we call some Men that were born of some Deity , and a Mortal Person , as Achilles who was the Son of the Goddess Thetis and Peleus ; and Hercules who was the Son of Jupiter and Alomena . But this lays no obligation upon Poets to make these Heroes good Men : Because there were likewise wicked Gods . And one may likewise observe that sometimes the Poets do make these Divine Men very Wicked Persons , witness Polypheme and Cacus . * * Monstrum Horrendum . Visceribus miserorum & sanguine vescitur a●● . Aen. 3. The first of these , though Neptune's Son , was a horrible Monster , and devoured his Guests and contemn'd Jupiter himself . † † At furiis Caci mens offera , nequid inausum Aut intentatum scelerisve dolive fuisset . Aen. ● . Cacus was the Son of God Vulcan , and yet Virgil says , there was no Villainy but this notable Rascal would undertake .

This is said in the general concerning all sorts of Heroes , let us now take a particular View of the chief personages in each Poem .

Aristotle says , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Arist. de Moribus ad Nicomachum lib. 7. c. 1. That an Heroical and Divine Vertue is some thing more than Humane ; and consequently that Heroes are Divine Persons , and that the excellency of their Nature raises them above all Men. But he says this in his Book , of Morality . † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Ar. Poet. c. 13. In his Poetry , he teaches a quite contrary lesson , that this chief personage of a Poem whom we style a Hero , should be neither good nor bad . But he would have him be between both , neither advanced above the rest of Mankind by his Vertue , and his Justice , nor sunk below them by his Vices and Wickedness . There is nothing then of Communication between these two sorts of Heroes , one of which ought to be advanced by his Vertue above the rest of Mankind , and the other should not be in the same Class with Men of perfection .

Besides , it must be observed , that he only speaks of that which is the most compleat part in the Poems , and not simply of that which is regular and allowable : And moreover , that this Mean , which he requires , is for complex Fables . So that he does not absolutely exclude from the number of these Poetical Heroes , neither Persons of the greatest Vertue , such as Vlysses , nor the most Vicious , such as Ixion and Medea . Horace mentions these two last among the Regular Heroes . * * Sit Medea ferox invictaque : Perfidus Ixion . Hor. Poet. He says , that she should be barbarous and inflexible , and Ixion treacherous . Certainly this Critick never wrote his Rules for Irregular Personages .

But since lastly , both Aristotle and Horace approve of Homer's practice in the Manners he has given to Achilles , and since they propose this Hero , as a Model for other Poets to imitate ; the Bad Morals of this Personage should convince us , that according to the Rules of Aristotle and Horace , and according to Homer's practice , 't is by no means necessary that the principal Person of an Epopéa should be an honest Man . For never does an honest Man prefer his own passion and private Interest to the publick Cause , the Glory of his Country , the Honour and the Life of his Innocent Friends . Never did an honest Man use such vile Language as this to his General , Go thou Impudent , Drunken , fearful Fellow ; there are none but drones who obey thee . These contumelies are Seditious , and of very bad consequence , and they are so much the more Criminal , because he who said them might be the Ringleader of a Faction : A good Man , if God denies him any thing , will never break out into a passion against him , and will never tell him that he will be revenged on him if he can . 'T is only profane , and Mad-men that speak thus .

Was Aristotle ignorant of these continual Extravagancies of Achilles ? Or did this learned Philosopher take them for real Vertues ? There is not the least colour for such a Thought . We should more probably believe that Aristotle considered this Poetical Hero only as a Savage , directly opposite to the Hero of his Morality . For in the passage above cited , he opposes this Brutality , to the Heroick and Divine Vertues . Because a God and a Beast are incapable , the one of Vice , and the other of Vertue . And in truth the one of these Natures is of too high , and the other of too low a pitch . Laws are made for neither the one , nor the other of them . And is not this what Horace says of the Character of Achilles ? He should not acknowledge that he was under the tye of any Laws . Therefore there is no medium ; he belongs to one of the two contraries which Aristotle proposes , either above or below Mankind ; he is Divine or Brutal . And which to fix upon is no hard matter . Horace says he is a Fool.

Homer , 't is true , has some faults , and * * Non ego paucis Offendar maculis , quas aut incuria fudit , Aut humana parum cavit natura . Poet. Horace owns it ; but the Character of Achilles cannot be one of these faults , which are so few , are no offence , and are owing either to humane frailty , or a pardonable negligence . These are the faults Horace censures , or to speak more properly , which he excuses in Homer . And can this be applied to the Character of Achilles ?

We conclude this Point by confirming the practice of Homer and the Authority of Aristotle and Horace with a reason drawn from the Essence of the Poem according as we propos'd it . The Moral does as well teach us how to avoid Vices as ( in conformity to Horace ) we said concerning the Iliad and Achilles ; as it does how to imitate Vertue , as Horace observes of the other Poem , and the other Hero of Homer . And lastly the Fable which is the very Soul of the Poem , and which is of the same nature in Homer as in Aesop , is as regularly capable of the most base and Criminal Men , and Animals for its first and only Personages , as it is of the most generous and the most praise-worthy .

Without dwelling then upon any new proofs which the Inference will afford us , we may conclude , that Reason and the nature of the Poem , the practice of Homer , and the precepts of Aristotle and Horace , do all inform us that 't is not at all necessary that the Hero of a Poem should be a good and vertuous Man : And that there is no Irregularity in making him as treacherous as Ixion , as unnatural as Medea , and as Brutal as Achilles .

CHAP. VI. Of the Poetical Goodness of the Manners .

WHat we are going to deliver here concerning the Goodness of the Manners , is only an Explanation of what Aristotle has writ about it in the fifteenth Chapter of his Poetry . The whole Passage runs thus : * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 , &c. There are four things to be observed in the Manners . The first and principal is , the Method of making them good . There will be Manners in a Speech or Action , if , as we before hinted , either one or the other discovers on what the Person that speaks or acts will resolve . Let these Manners be Vicious and bad , provided they foreshow Vicious and bad Inclinations ; or good and Vertuous , provided they likewise foreshow good and Virtuous Inclinations . This happens in all sorts of Conditions ; for a Woman and a Foot-boy will be good in a Poetical Sense , though commonly Women are rather bad and vicious than good and vertuous , and Foot-boys are of no account .

This Passage has somewhat of Difficulty in it : perhaps I have changed it too much , by confining it to my sence ; but I had rather interpret it thus , than otherwise —

After what has been said in the former Chapter , I see not the least Reason to apply this Goodness which ought so strictly to be observ'd in the Manners of the Poetical Persons , to Morality and Virtue . I am of Opinion then , that we are to understand this of the Poetical Goodness ; and this is what Aristotle would make out , when afterwards he says , that there will be Manners in a Speech or Action if either of them foreshow any Inclination , Choice , and Resolution , as I have already said upon the occasion of another of Aristotle's Passages , to which Aristotle refers us .

This will likewise serve to illustrate upon what account I have render'd the Word 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 by this Phrase , upon what he will resolve . This Greek Word signifies neither an Inclination , nor a simple Act of the Will , without Deliberation and Choice ; but it signifies the Choice which one makes , and the Desire one has after some sort of Deliberation . Thus Aristotle himself explains this Term very largely in his Ethicks . The Word Resolution signifies thus much , but being used alone , is too equivocal .

Aristotle adds , that the Manners are bad , when the Resolutions that are taken are so ; and that the Manners are good , when the Resolutions are good . I did not think that this Goodness of the Manners was a Poetical Goodness , and that his Meaning was , that for the well ordering of the Manners in a Poem , 't is requisite that the Persons which are introduced take such Resolutions and Designs as are just and good , that an Author transgresses this Rule , and makes the Manners Poetically bad , when the Personages are determin'd to do a bad Action . This Interpretation would condemn the Practice of Homer in the Person of Achilles , in that of Agamemnon , and in almost all the Personages of the Iliad , and Odysseïs . Certainly this was never Aristotle's Design . The Aeneid it self would be liable to the same Censure . Dido , Turnus , Amata , Mezentius , and several others , would spoil all the places where they act so viciously ; that is to say , they would spoil the whole Poem , from one end to the other . I have therefore interpreted this place in a moral sence , and thought that Aristotle intended to teach us , that the Poctical Manners are equally good , let them be in a moral sense good or bad , provided that the Poet order Matters so that they appear before hand to be such as either the good or the bad Persons of his Poem ought to have .

The rest of the Text confirms me farther in my Opinion , and in the Distinction I have made between the Moral and the Poetical Goodness of the Manners . Aristotle says that the goodness of the Manners he speaks of , may be met with in all sorts of States and conditions even amongst foot-men who have no goodness in them . Without doubt a foot-man cannot be Master of that goodness , to which he has no right . He will then be morally bad , because he will be a dissembling , drunken , cheating Rascal , and he will be Poetically good , because these bad inclinations will be well exposed .

This Instance of Aristotle , and the application he himself makes of what he says , of the goodness of the Manners to a foot-man , does teach us that he does not speak only in the behalf of Heroes , let the word be taken in what sence soever , but that this goodness he describes , as well as the other Qualifications of the Manners , reaches to all sorts of Poetical Persons , from Kings and Princes down to foot-men and waiting Boys . Without excepting any one in Comedy , Tragedy and the Epopéa .

But though we mention the liberty Poets have of putting vicious Persons in a Poem , yet this liberty has its bounds and Rules , and they are not to suppose virtue and vice must go hand in hand together . 'T is necessity and probability that regulate these two contraries . And they regulate them so , that when they give to vertue all that is possible , yet they allow vice only that which cannot be cut off from the Poem without spoiling the Fable . Thus Aristotle censures the Vicious Manners , not because they are Vicious , but because they are so without any necessity for it . But he does not blame the obstinacy of Achilles , as unjust and unreasonable as it was , because it was necessary to the Fable . If Achilles had received satisfaction from Agamemnon before the Death of Patroclus , the action would have been at an End : Or else Achilles would have fought no more and so the Fable would have been defective and imperfect : Or else having no particular quarrel against Hector , he would have fought only for the common cause , and consequently the Siege and War of Troy would have been the Subject of the Poem , and the Action would have been Episodical and spoil'd . 'T was necessary then that Achilles should be unjust and inexorable . But the Poet carries the Vices of Achilles no farther than the necessity of the Fable forc'd him , as we observ'd before .

'T is time now to join the Authority of Horace to that of Aristotle . Certainly if the Poet should take special care to make the manners good in a Moral Sense , there would have been as little Reason to give the name of Manners to indifferent Inclinations in Poetry , as in Moral Philosophy , and the Masters in both Sciences would have been equally ridiculous , if they had laid down Rules and Precepts for these sorts of Inclinations . Yet * * Tu , quid ego & populus mecum desiderat , a●di . Si plausoris eges aeola m●mentis , & usque Sessûri , donec cantor , vos plaudite , dicat ; Aetatis cujusque netandi sunt tibi mores . Poet. Horace has done it , and after he has advertis'd us , that the observing the Rules about the Manners is a business of the highest Moment . The first things he presents us with to be observed , and on which he bestows the name of Manners , are the most indifferent inclinations of any in the World . † † Reddere qui roces jam scit paer , & pede certo Signat humam , gestit paribus colludere , &c. Ibid. A Child , says he , that just begins to speak and walk , without leading-strings , is most passionately desirous of being with his play fellows . What follows is much the same or rather worse . For if it were not altogether an indifferent thing for the little creatures at this age to fly-out into a passion for nothing , to be pacified again as easily , and to change their Minds every quarter of an hour , it would be a wicked thing . After the same manner does he treat of the Inclinations of Youths . They , says he , delight in Horses , Dogs , and the Field . They are prone to vice , and can't endure to be reproved . 'T is only to grown up Men that he bestows honourable and rational Inclinations . He ends all with the cross-grained Humour of Old-men , that are Covetous , Fearful , Impotent , Dull , Testy and the like . Now what Moral Goodness is there in all these Inclinations ? And yet in this that Horace recommends to the Poets , we are to look for that goodness which Aristotle says is the first and principal thing to be observed in the Manners . And this is likewise what may be observed in the Idea we have proposed of the Poetical Goodness , which consists only in representing the Manners and Inclinations just as they are , no matter whether Morally Good , or Morally Bad.

Horace , never speaking of Vertue as a thing necessary , recommends the observing of the four Qualities in the Manners , which Aristotle himself likewise requires . The first is , that they appear : the second , that they be suitable : The third that they be likely : And the last that they be Even .

With great reason then have we affirmed that the Poetical Goodness consists in discovering to the Reader by the Speeches and Actions all the future Inclinations and Resolutions of the Personages , who speak and act in the Poem .

CHAP. VII . Of the three other Qualifications of the Manners .

THere is no such difficulty in the other three Qualities of the Manners in Poetry as in the Goodness of them . We have already explained in particular what suitableness they ought to have with the Internal or External Causes , which either raise or discover them in Men. What Resemblance the Poet ought to give them to what History the Fable or common report have publish'd of them ; and lastly what that evenness of them is which ought to be observed in each Personage without permitting him to alter his Character . We shall satisfie our selves with only making here some general Reflections upon these three Qualities .

The first Reflection we make is this , that sometimes these Qualities happen so opposite in one and the same Person , that if we would do justice to the one , we shall be unjust to the other . An Instance of this may be observed in the Emperour Maurice : His Inclinations would not have been suitable to the dignity of an Emperour , if one should make him covetous , and they would not be like to what we know of him , if one should make him magnificent and liberal . In truth there is a sort of avarice which Kings are capable of , to wit , the desire of heaping up vast treasures . Such was the passion of Polymnestor King of Thrace which gave Virgil an occasion to say , * * Quid non mortalia pectora cogis Auri sacra fames ? Aen. 3. That this inordinate thirst after Riches , carried Men on to strange extravagancies . † † Portantur avari Pygmalionis opes pelago . Aen. 1. Such was likewise the passion of Pygmalion King of Tyre . The question here does not lie concerning this sort of Avarice , but concerning the sordid , base niggardliness which cost so many Roman Souldiers their Lives . They were Prisoners of War with the King of Persia , who required but a very small ransome for them . Maurice refuses to pay it , and by this base , unworthy denial of so small a sum for so weighty a consideration , he cast the conqueror into such a fit of passion , that he ordered all these miserable Souldiers of so wicked a Prince to be butchered immediately .

It may be asked then what a Poet shall do that he may neither offend against the suitableness of an Emperour's Manners , nor against the Resemblance of them to that which is to be found in History about them ? In answer to this I say , that a Man will not be perplex'd with these sorts of Personages , if in the composition of his Poem he will but observe the Method I proposed in my first Book . In the first place the Author will make his Fable with universal persons , and without Names , and consequently without so much as thinking of Maurice . And when he has a mind to make the Episodes , and shall look out for particular Names to give to his Personages , if in his platform he meets with a Miser , he will not think it adviseable to give him the title and Dignity , either of a King or an Emperour : And if in the same platform he meets with a liberal and magnificent Person , to be sure he will never chuse the Emperour Maurice to act this part . So that to the question propounded it may be answered , that the Emperour Maurice whether Liberal or Covetous ; is not one that can regularly be brought into any Poem .

But he may be made use of therein , if the Fable admits such a thing as the dissembling his avarice without changing it into liberality ; according to Mr. Corneille's practice in his Heraclius . Phocas could reap some advantage from this criminal passion of his Enemy , and so render his cruelty against this Prince somewhat less odious , Maurice did indeed know that God made use of this Tyrant to punish the crime , which his avarice put him upon committing : But this I doubt would have been against the suitableness of the Manners , and the Spectators would have been offended with this Reflection . The Poet has judiciously concealed this vicious Inclination of Maurice without attributing the contrary to him , which would likewise have offended against what was likely .

One cannot then act contrary to the Qualities of the Manners , but we may sometimes omit them , and this is the second Reflection I would make upon the Subject .

When a Man omits the first quality , he necessarily omits all the rest ; since that is the only source and foundation of them . If the Manners appear not at all , they will be neither suitable , nor likely , nor even , nor the contrary . This may be done in all the Personages that are of no note in a Poem , such as are the multitude of persons just mentioned in Battles , and several others . Because if the Poet on one side is obliged to relate no action , nor Incident without Manners , Interest , and Passion , that the Narration may be active and pleasant , and the minds of the Readers may attend thereto : So likewise ought he not to admit of any more Interested and passionate persons , than what he is precisely obliged to , without augmenting the number of them , that so the Memory may not be over-burdened , nor the attention distracted to no purpose . So in the Aeneid , we see but little of the Manners of Mnestheus , Cloantes , Messapus , Vfenzus , and of so many Valiant Commanders , and other persons that have considerable Posts in the Poem .

When we make the Manners of a person appear but only once , we may make them suitable to his Dignity , Age , and Sex , &c. We may make them like to what common fame has published of them , but 't is plain that there can be no equality of them , no more than there can be an inequality : On the contrary , it sometimes happens , that one and the same person is of an even and uneven temper at the same time . Because this Character , which in most Men resembles the Sun , whose equality consists in appearing always the same ; * * Stultus ut Luna mutatur . in others is like the Moon , whose equality consists in changing her Faces four times a Month : Sometimes this inequality proceeds from Age , as Horace has observed in † † Puer mutatur in Horas . Juvenis amata relinquere pernix . Children and Youths . They owe this to the softness and the want of due consistency of their Brains . Objects are very easily impressed upon them , and these Images are as easily wip'd away by the impression of new Objects , or meerly by the motion of the Animal-spirits . But it happens in some persons , that their Brain-pan is never closed sufficiently . This was the misfortune of Tigeltius Augustus's Fidler . It would be ill suiting one's self to his humour , and it would offend against what is likely , only to represent him always in the same Vein . He was covetous and prodigal : As proud as a King in his Dress , and clothed as meanly as a Cobler . So active and diligent as to spend whole Nights without a wink of Sleep , and so Lazy as to lie a-bed till the Afternoon for it . Lastly , if we would take * * Nil aequale homini fuit illi , &c. Hor. Lib. 1. Sat. 3. Horace's word for't , there could nothing be added to the inequality of this Man's humour . There is another inequality that is more common , but comes on more slowly , and that is the inequality of a Man in the different Ages of his Life . † † Juvenis utilium tardus provisor : Prodigus aeris . In his Youth , he never thinks of heaping up wealth , but idly squanders it away . ‡ ‡ Aetas virilis quaerit opes , inservit honori . In his riper Age he gathers it in , and lays it out as honourably . * * Sonex , quaerit & inventis miser abstinet ac timet uti . Hor. Poet. And when he comes to be Old , he seeks for and heaps up Wealth with greediness , and is so far afraid of laying it out , that he had rather live miserably than spend a Farthing upon the ordinary necessaries of Life . This inequality is of little use in Poem . It seldom happens that a Poet represents one and the same person at his fifteenth , and at his sixtieth Year , 'T is the others that are of more use in Poems . But when a Poet introduces them , he ought to give his hearers timely notice , that this inequality is the express character that he gives to his Personage .

Terence has something upon this Subject in his Brothers worth taking notice of . His Demea is a testy and rough old Gentleman , one that keeps a strict hand over his Family , and thrifty to the highest degree . This was the constant course of his whole life , and he carried on this cross-grained Humour to the very end of the Play . And then he thinks of being better humour'd , more endearing and obliging and is concern'd for nothing . Here is a strange inequality . Yet the Poet makes it very regular . Demea himself gives his Audience notice of it . Never , says he , did Man cast up the business of his Life so exactly ; but still Experience , Years , and Custom will bring in some new particulars that he was not aware of ; and shew his Ignorance of what he thought he knew , and after tryal make him reject his former Opinions . This is plainly my case at present : For since my glass is almost out , I renounce this rigid Life I have always led . But why so ? Because Experience shews me there 's nothing like gentleness and good nature : And this truth appears plainly to all that knew me and my Brother . He always spent his time in ease and pleasure ; always courteous , complaisant , spoke ill of no Man , but carress'd all ; liv'd as he pleased , spent as he thought fit , the World bless'd him , and lov'd him too : But I that rustick , rigid , morose , pinching , brutish , griping fellow must needs Marry ; And how have I smarted for 't ? I had Children too , those were new troubles : And truly in building up their Fortunes , I have worn out my life and the best of all my days : And now I 'm just marching off the Stage , the fruit of all my labour is , to be hated like a Toad . But my Brother enjoys all the pleasure of a father without the drudgery : They love him , and fly me like the Plague . Him they trust with all their secrets , dote upon him , live with him , but me they slight : They both pray for his Life , but long for my Death : Those I have brought up with the greatest labour , he has gained with a little cost , so I take all the pains , and he reaps all the pleasure . Well , well , for once we 'll try what can be done , whether we can speak obligingly , and act the Gentleman too ; since my Brother urges me to 't , I 'de willingly have my Children love and respect me too ; if Gifts and Compliments will do the feat , I 'll not be behind the best of them : But my Estate must go to wrack : What care I for that ? Since I have one foot in the Grave already .

But I enlarge too far upon a thing so well known as this Comedy . Terence carries on the Reflection still farther , and ends it not till he ends his Play , and he is so cautious in it that he leaves his Audience nothing to guess at .

* * Omnibus nobis ut res dant sese , ita magni atque humiles sumus . Terent. Hecyr. Act. 3. Scen. 3. There is another inequality of the Manners , that is occasioned by the change of a Man's Fortune , and which usually causes Men to be of a low and dejected Spirit , when they are in misery and distress , and fierce and proud when they are in power , and think they are Masters of their Fortune . A Poet may range this suitableness , in the Manners of persons , who are of an ordinary Vertue , and who are more inclined to be vain and proud , than truly generous ; and by this conduct the Equality will not be alter'd . But if he makes a person generous , then he should alter less by the change of his Fortune . These personages should be as bold in their worst as in their best circumstances ; or as modest after a Victory as after the losing of a Battle ; according as the Poet orders either fierceness or gentleness to be the commanding character he gives them .

This last Character is that which Virgil bestows upon the Trojans . They appear very humble before Dido when the storm had used them so scurvily , and brought them under the mercy of the Carthaginians . * * Non ea vis animo , nec tanta superbia victis . Aen. 1. Never imagine , say they , that we are come , hither with a design to do you any harm . Vanquished persons , such as we are , have neither power nor boldness enough to undertake any thing . This would denote a baseness of Spirit , if they appeared such before their Enemies , or if they treated them with scorn and cruelty after they had conquered them . But we see 't is true Modesty , when we hear the same Language from them after a Victory . Aeneas overcame the Latins in a hot Engagement , their Legates fell at his feet beseeching him to give them leave to burn their Dead ; and he was so far from shewing the least Arrogancy , * * Nec veni nisi fata locum sedemque dedissent ; Nec bellum cum gente gero , &c. Aen. 11. that he even excuses his being forc'd to conquer them , and declares to them that his desire was only for peace .

Let us now make a Reflection upon the Resemblance the Manners ought to have with what common fame has published of them . This quality has this peculiar to its self that one may observe the rest in all sorts of personages , and one may likewise commit faults against them always . But there are some persons in whom there is nothing to be observed either for , or against the Resemblance . These personages are of two sorts . The one are such as are wholly invented , as are all those of Comedies , and almost all the personages of the Epick Poem and Tragedy , since in both there are but a few Names taken from History or the Fable . The second sort is of such , that are really taken from History , but whose manners are known by few , and of whom common fame has said nothing : For in this case 't is plain , one cannot give them Inclinations , that are like or contrary to what common fame has said of them ; since she has said nothing about them . So likewise Aristotle does not oppose Names taken from History to Names that are invented , but he opposes to them names that are well known . The same we may affirm of the Manners . Dido of the Aeneid is of this second sort . The Poet having feigned in his Fable such a personage as we perceive this Queen to be , the obscurity of History gave him entire license to make use of a name so little known .

This License is only for such as first make use of these Names : For those who make use of them afterwards , are obliged to keep up the Character that was at first given them , and which comes to be known this way . They can only change some circumstances that are less known , and add other new ones , which shall be compatible with what one knows already of it .

CHAP. VIII . Of the Character of the Personages . Aristotle's Words about it .

THE Character of a person is that which is proper and peculiar to him , and distinguishes him from others . As this is discernable in the lines of a Man's face ; so it is likewise to be met with in the Manners we are now discoursing of . That which I have met with in Aristotle about it , is in the same Chapter , from whence we cited that which has been already said about the Manners . * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Poet. c. 15. Since , says he , Tragedy is an imitation of what is best amongst Men , we ought to do like good Painters , who when they give each person his proper form and Character , and so make their Figures like them , do likewise represent them much fairer . In like manner should the Poet form examples of goodness or of Hard-heartedness , when he imitates a passionate and Cholerick or a soft and mild natur'd Man , or any other such like Character . 'T is after this manner that Homer himself has attributed goodness to Achilles . Care must be taken of this , and besides without speaking here of what is necessary , 't is requisite to observe the series and the Consequence that is in Poetry , wherein we are subject to commit several faults .

Every one knows what affinity there is between Painting and Poetry . Horace begins his Art with it , and Aristotle likewise compares them both together in the very first Chapter of his Poetry . He speaks of it in several other places , and by this which we have here cited 't is plain his judgment is , that one cannot conceive a more perfect Idea of the Poetical Character in the Manners , than by the practice of Painters in the Character which they give to their Pictures . If we would understand his Mind exactly , we cannot do it better than by enquiring in the Art , how one may draw a Portraicture perfectly like its Original , and which at the same time should be finer ? I 'll venture to give my thoughts about it .

Painters in their Personagees have three sorts of Subjects . Either they represent particular Persons to the Life , such as Augustus , young Marcellus , Virgil , Seneca , Paulinus , &c. Or they represent Dignities and such like Characters , as a King , a Philosopher , a Minister of State , a Poet , a Varlet , a Beggar , &c. Or lastly , they represent a Passion , such as Anger , Joy , Discontent , Cruelty , &c.

We may add that Painters and Poets , of an elevated Fancy , are more for drawing Kings , Princes , and things of State and Grandure : And that the less noble Genius of others , puts them upon the Choice of Valets , Drunkards , and despicable Persons . Aristotle attributes the Variety of Dramatick Poems and the Invention of Tragedy and Comedy to the diversity of Genius's . The first would doubtless make finer Personages , than the last . But this makes no difference as to the exact likeness of the Characters . Both the one , and the other may meet with equal success as well in the baseness and deformity of Irus and Thersites , as in the Majesty and bon mien of Agamemnon and Paris .

But we cannot here make any use of this difference , and this Interpretation , since Aristotle speaks only of Poems , and famous Persons : And we can without quitting Tragedy and the Epopéa meet with this difference of more or less comeliness in an exact likeness .

Two things are considerable in the Persons one would paint . The first are the Features which we may call Characteristical : Such are the natural Wrinkles of the Face , the Proportion of each part , the colour of the Eyes and Hair , the shape of the Nose , the thickness of the Lips , the wideness of the Mouth , and other such like properties . This is what should properly and chiefly fix the Imagination , and give it the Idea of the person we would represent . 'T is absolutely necessary that these Features be observ'd in the Copy , to make it more like the Original ; and 't is of these that the expression of Aristotle is to be understood [ Giving to each person the Character that is proper to him . ] These Characteristical Features are so far fix'd , in comparison to the rest , that they continue the same even in the change of Ages and Sexes ; and they easily discover the Fathers by the countenance of their Children , and the Mothers by that of their Sons .

The second thing is a great deal less permanent , and less affix'd to its Subject , and consequently leaves a Painter more to his own liberty . 'T is the colour of the Flesh , the plumpness , and several other things , that augment or diminish the Beauty of a Person without changing the Features , and the proportion of his Countenance . There are some , whom a pale colour would better become than a fairer Complexion ; or who would be much more taking were they made a little Fatter , or a little Leaner . There needs only a slight distemper , a disturbance , or a few Days of Diversion to produce these Alterations . So that a skilful Painter will consider a person under different States , and with those various Motions which may naturally happen to him . And having observ'd what becomes him best , he will paint him in some Action or other , wherein he shall be a little mov'd with fear or anger , according as he has a mind to make him more pale or more lively than the Original : Or else he will give him a smiling Countenance , if he perceives the Person has some defect which a smile would conceal , &c. After this manner , without altering the natural Resemblance , Painters represent Persons more comely than they are .

These two , whereof one makes the Picture like to , and the other makes it more comely than the Original , which we have applied to particular Persons , may likewise be applied to whole Orders of Men according to their Dignities , Ages , Passions , and other Habitudes . The Throne , Diadem , Scepter , and Majesty make up the Character of a King . But there are some Persons , and Faces that carry a great deal more Majesty in them than others , and on whom a Crown sits a great deal better . Nature has made no old Man but what carries in his Countenance the Character of his Age : But she has made some Venerable and August , and others Contemptible and Distastful . There are some Persons whom Anger renders more comely , thô commonly this Passion very much disfigures the Countenance .

A Painter then in the various Countenances he sees , being stock'd with so many different Subjects which may serve him as a ground Work to keep up the Characters we have been discoursing of ; if he is a good Painter , he will not be contented with a Sceptre and a Crown , with Wrinkles and gray Hairs , and with the Features that in general are proper to an incensed Person : But he will study upon divers Complexions , those that under these Characters will be the most taking , and will make choice of those whom Nature has made Venerable and August , and in whom even without a Crown , one may discern something of Majesty and Royalty .

There is another way of embellishing a Character , and that is by deducing the agreeableness of it from the very Essence and Properties of the Character it self . Anger makes Men look pale or red ; it makes them gnash their Teeth , fall foul upon every thing they meet with , tear themselves , and express such Motions and Postures , as are strange , terrible , and extravagant . But 't is not always attended with these effects . It has some more moderate ones : And 't is at the Painters choice to make use of those which he pleases , and to reject the more violent Ones , if his design requires them not , and to express the most moving , the most pleasant , and the less irregular Ones .

His liberty is sometimes more , sometimes less . When he represents one single Personage , and invents the Design as he pleases , then all depends upon him , and if he succeeds not , he is to blame . But if one should require a story of him , and determine the persons for him , then he will be often perplex'd in a great many things by the very Essence of his Subject , which permits him not to make use of certain Beauties , which would be very advantageous to him . A King preserves his gravity best in a moderate Passion , but Agamemnon is not capable of this moderation in the Sacrifice of Iphigenia . The Beauty of Helen and that of Paris would be more conspicuous by Day-light , than by Torch-light , but yet 't is necessary that this Princess should be carry'd off in the Night . Europa , smiling amidst the Nymphs and Flowers , would be more comely : But would any one represent her so when carry'd into the midst of the Sea upon a Bull. A Painter might come off with success in the ravishing of Helen , if one would give him liberty to make choice of a Model ; he would likewise succeed in the portraicture of a person , that he draws to the Life , if he invents the Shadows , the Posture , and the Action thereof : And he would come off but pitifully , were he oblig'd to joyn these two things together , and to give to Helen , when ravish'd , the Countenance of a person , that he had painted with success in a contrary Action .

The constraint is still greater , if one should represent several Actions of one and the same Story , and if one should paint the carrying off of Europa in four Tables . For the same Features of one single person will serve as a foundation of moderate Joy , a dreadful Fright , a mortal Confusion , and a Miraculous and pleasant Surprize .

The great Poems are of this last sort . The several Episodes , wherein we see the same person Act , are as so many Tables , wherein the same Character of one single Countenance ought to serve as a foundation to the different Characters of opposite Passions . Achilles is represented at the Councel Board , in the Fight ; and at the Funeral Solemnities of his Friend . The Poet has not made his Hero sage and prudent in This first Table ; he has not made him proud in the Ceremonies and Religion of the last ; that so he might be less angry and passionate than in the Battle . This variety of Characters would have made three Achilles's , and would have had something of the Ignorance of a Painter , who willing to paint Achilles in these three different Adventures , would chuse for his model three Countenances that had no relation to each other , and would represent one of them entire in each Table . But Homer at the Councel Board gives Agamemnon occasion to provoke Achilles , who is presently transported with anger against him , and who begins to revenge himself by affronting and venting seditious Reproaches against him . And in the Funeral of Patroclus , the Ceremony that is most visible is the cruelty which Achilles shews to the body of the Brave and unhappy Hector , which he ties by the heels to his Chariot , and for twelve Days together inhumanely drags about the Tomb of his Friend . Thus is Achilles always the same , and is no less Cholerick and Revengeful at the Councel Board , and the Funeral Solemnities , than in War and Battle .

The Poet then , in the Constitution of his Fable , ought to mind what he is oblig'd to , and what Character it requires : He will afterwards examine all its Parts , and all the Episodes it presents to him . He will see which of them he can apply to his Character , or to which he can apply it ; † † Hoc amet , hoc spernat promissi carminis autor . Hor. Poet. by this means making choice of those that are for his turn , and rejecting the others , ( as Homer has done in the Amours of Achilles and Briseis , with which the very Essence of his Fable furnish'd him . ) Thus having entirely discover'd all the Lineaments of his Character that are indispensably annex'd to the very Essence of his Fable , and to his Subject , he is oblig'd to keep to them as their proper Form , wherein does essentially consist the Resemblance of his Fable to the probable Action which he would Imitate ; let it be in the Persons , or in the Dignities , or in the Passions , or any other things that are capable of a Character . This is the first thing a Poet is oblig'd to . The second is to examine all the other Circumstances of his Character , which the Essence of his Fable does not make necessary , and which are as the Colours of a more or less paleness and redness , the complexion whereof may naturally change . He will discover those that are most capable of rendring his Character pleasant , and his Personages good , even in a moral Sense , and he will make use of them , and not of the others . 'T is by this means that without altering the Resemblance , and the Justness of the Character a good Poet , like a good Painter , will make his Personages better , and a sorry Poet like a sorry Painter will make them worse than they are . 'T is thus that Homer himself has made his Achilles good as we have observ'd .

One may understand and interpret the Text of Aristotle in a sense different from that which I propos'd in the beginning of the Chapter : But it will still suit with the Doctrine I have drawn from thence . The other Interpretation is this , When a Poet imitates a passionate Man , or a mild and good humour'd Person , or any other Character , he ought rather to propose to himself Models of Goodness , than of Hard-heartedness , &c.

CHAP. IX . Of the Characters of Achilles , Ulysses , and Aeneas .

ARISTOTLE proposes Homer's Achilles to us , to teach us the way of making the imitated Personage like the Original which we propose to our selves ; in such a manner that this Resemblance , which may be attended with Deformity and Vice , or Beauty and Virtue , have that which is the most perfect of these Qualities . We have already taken notice that the Resemblance consists in this Part of the Character which is proper and necessary to the Fable , and which the Subject obliges indispensably to be observ'd ; and that the Beauty or the Goodness Aristotle speaks of , and which he distinguishes from the Resemblance , consists in the Circumstances of the Character , which are not necessarily contain'd in the Essence of the Fable . This is what we are more fully to discover in the Practice of Homer and his Iliad , to which Aristotle refers us , that so we may instruct our selves , where he himself learn'd his Instructions .

We have sufficiently made it appear , that Achilles ought to be passionate , unjust , and inexorable . The Fable necessarily requires this ; 't is that renders his Manners Bad , and so unworthy a Man of Honour . But they have nothing in them that is irregular , or contrary to the Precepts of Aristotle , since he requires Goodness only in the Circumstances , where the Poet is at his liberty , and since he blames Vice only when 't is not necessary . So that this is that , which I call Part of the Character which renders Achilles like to the Idea , which the Poet form'd of him , when he laid down the first Model of his Fable .

But the Fable leaves the Poet to chuse the Circumstances which may either raise and embellish the Character , or render it more deform'd and odious . Achilles that is passionate , inexorable , and unjust , might be likewise fearful , and cowardly , and have reveng'd himself by betraying his party . He might have given some secret Intelligence to his Enemies , he might have receiv'd them into his Quarters , or have injur'd his Allies by any other wicked Practices , which might have occasion'd a great deal of mischief to have fallen upon the Greeks , Agamemnon , and himself , and which might have been no hindrance to his Reconciliation . For suppose the Greeks without Achilles were stronger than the Trojans , in this case their disadvantage and losses would only have happen'd by the Treachery of this Hero . And the Treachery ending with this Reconciliation the Valour of the Greeks might have got them the Victory . The Fable would not have been less just , nor have had less of the Moral and Instructions than that it at present contains .

Thus the Essence and the Justness of the Fable leaves the Poet at his full liberty to make choice either of the Valour or the Cowardice of Achilles , for to degrade or raise his Character ; and 't is to this choice , that the Precept of Aristotle refers , when he orders Poets to imitate good Painters , who , always preserving whatever the Character has that is necessary or proper to the Subject , raise it by all the Embellishments 't is capable of . If Homer had chose to have made his Hero cowardly , rather than Valiant , he would have offended against what Aristotle orders here , and elsewhere , viz. Never to represent a Personage that is wicked without necessity forces one to it . But this great Poets practice is not thus . As unjust , and as passionate as the Anger of his Hero was , and thô 't was so pernicious to his Allies , and to Patroclus himself yet he has done nothing herein , but what is necessary . He has observ'd in this Character what his Fable indispensibly oblig'd him to . But for as much as it has left him at his liberty therein , he has made use of it so far to the Advantage of his Hero , that he has almost conceal'd his great Vices by the darling show of a miraculous Valour which has deceiv'd so many Persons .

This Goodness may be likewise added to the difference we put between the Epick Fable , and those of Aesop , for 't is neither necessary nor congruous in these last . The Heroes there may be intirely vicious .

'T is easier to discover what Goodness there is in the Characters of Vlysses , and Aeneas , since the very Essence of the Fable requires Goodness and Virtue : But yet 't is still necessary to know the practice of our Poets in the Characters they have given them .

The Fable of the Odysseis is all for the conduct of a State , and for Policy . Therefore the Quality it requires is Prudence ; but this Virtue is of too large an extent for the simplicity which a just and precise Character requires ; it is requisite it should be limited . The great Art of Kings is the Mystery of Dissimulation . 'T is well known that Lewis the eleventh for the Instruction of his Son , reduc'd all the Latin Language to these words only , viz. Qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare . 'T was likewise by this practice that Saul began his Reign , when he was elected , and then full of the Spirit of God . The first thing we read of him in holy Writ is . * * Ille vero dissimulabat se audire . Reg. lib. 1 , that he made as if he did not hear the words , which seditious People spoke against him .

This then is the Character which the Greek Poet gives his Vlysses in the Proposition of his Poem , he calls him 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 ; to denote this prudent dissimulation , which disguised him so many ways , and put him upon taking so many Shapes .

Without mentioning any thing of Circe who stay'd him with her a whole Year , and who was famous for the transformations she knew to make with all sorts of persons : The Reader finds him at first with Calypso , the Daughter of wise Atlas , who bore up the vast Pillars that reach'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Odyss. lib. 1. from Earth to Heaven , and whose knowledge penetrated into the depths of the unfathomable Ocean : That is to say , who was ignorant of nothing that was either in Heaven , Earth or Sea . And as the first product and principal part of so high , so solid , and so profound a knowledge was to know how to conceal ones self ; This wise Man call'd his Daughter by a name that signified a † † 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Secret . The Poet makes his Hero , which he design'd for a Politician , to stay seven whole Years with this Nymph . She taught him so well , that afterwards he lost no opportunity of putting her Lessons in practice : For he does nothing without a disguise . At his parting from Ogyges he is cast upon the Isle of Phaeaca : As kind as his reception was , yet he stays till the Night before he went off , ere he would discover himself . From thence he goes to Ithaca . The first adventure that happens to him there was with Minerva the most prudent among the Deities , as Vlysses was the most prudent among Men. * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Od. l. 13. She her self says thus much in this very passage . Nor did they fail to disguise themselves . Menerva takes upon her the shape of a Shepherd , and Vlysses tells her he was oblig'd to fly from Crete , because he had Murder'd the Son of King Idomeneus . The Goddess discovers her self first , and commends him for that these Artifices were so easie , and so natural to him , as if they had been born with him . Afterwards the Hero under the form of a Beggar deceives first of all Eumens , then his Son , and last of all his Wife , and every body else , till he had found an oppertunity , of punishing his Enemies , to whom he discover'd not himself till he kill'd them , that is the last Night . After his discovering himself in his Palace , he goes the next Day to deceive his Father , appearing at first under a borrow'd Name ; before he would give him joy of his Return Thus he takes upon him all Manner of Shapes , and dissembles to the very last . The Poet joyns to this Character a * * Aspera multa Pertulit adversis rerum immersabilis undis . Hor , ad Litt. valour and a constancy which renders him Invincible in the most daring and desperate Adventures .

The Fable of the Aeneid is quite different from the two Greek ones . The Poets design was to introduce among the Romans a new sort of Government , and a new Master . 'T was requisite then that this new Master should have all the Qualities , which the Founder of a State ought to have , and all the Virtues which make a Prince belov'd .

Dissimulation is a wrong Method . We bear but little love to a Man we distrust , and those who love Vlysses , love him only after they had had a long Experience of his Goodness , and of the good will his Father bore towards them . But the Hero of Virgil had only new Subjects as Augustus Caesar has , and by the way , I shall here say , that the Latin Poet was more straitned in this than Homer , and that he was like to those Painters , who ought to suit their Stories to the Model of a countenance we have prescrib'd them . Aeneas then ought only to give his Subjects signs of sincerity and frankness . He could not have the Character of Achilles . Then violences of Achilles were entirely opposite to the design of the Aeneid ; and the Poet has judiciously assign'd them to Turnus and Mezentius , which he opposes to his Hero . He was therefore oblig'd to a Character that is opposite to that , as we have often and often said .

So that the Character of Achilles is the inexorable Anger of a revengeful , unjust , and valiant Prince ; That of Vlysses is the wise , and prudent dissimulation of a valiant King , whose Constancy nothing could shock . And that of Aeneas is a mild , and good natur'd Piety , upheld as the two others by a valour and an unshaken Courage .

CHAP. X. The Character of the other Personages .

ALL the persons in a Picture do not appear in an equal Degree . The principal Personage must always appear above all the rest and be view'd at his full Length , as far as Art and Perspective will admit . Some others appear almost as much . There are others that are half hid , or which appear more or less , and there are some likewise which serve only to represent a great number of persons , whose extream Parts are the only things we can distinguish , and which shew that there is some body there . Lastly , some are very near and are seen distinctly , and others are at such a distance as confounds the Features , and the very members themselves , and gives them rather the colour of the Air than their own proper Hue. As for those that are near , a considerable part whereof we see , 't is necessary that they should wear either in their Countenance , or their Posture the Character that is proper to them , and make it appear what Interest they have in the Action which is represented . As for the rest the less is seen of them , the less is one likewise oblig'd to make them known .

The case is just the same in the Epopéa . The Poet leaves the greatest part of his Actors in obscurity , and at a distance , but beside his Hero , to whom he has a particular regard , there are likewise several others , whose Character must be set off in a greater or less light , according to the Interest he makes them have , following in this the Rules which we have apply'd to the Hero . We will take notice of the Differences by what follows .

Dido is the chief Personage which the Poet presents us with , and the most considerable in the first Part of the Aeneid , since 't is she that makes the Intrigue or Plot thereof . She is the Foundress of Carthage , as Aeneas is the Founder of Rome , and she represents the obstacle which this Republick laid in the way of the Roman Victories , which were to raise that State to be Mistress of the World . So then , as Aeneas bore the Character of Rome , so should Dido of Carthage . Therefore she is Passionate , Bold , Daring , Ambitious , Violent , Perfidious : And all these Qualities are carry'd on by a Craftiness which is the very Soul and Character of her . 'T is by her Craftiness that she succeeded so well in her great Undertakings , in revenging her Husband , punishing her Brother , and deceiving of King Iarbas . 'T is by these very wiles she would stop Aeneas's Journey , and being not able to compass that , deceives her very Sister who was her only Confident .

This Character is vicious and odious . Virgil was oblig'd to it by the very nature of his Fable . But in the Liberty it has given him , he has taken care according to Aristotle's Maxim , to give this Character all the softness that is proper to his Subject ; and to raise it by all the Beauties he found it capable of receiving . Dido does not make use of the wickedness of her temper , but only to stay Aeneas at Carthage : She is inclin'd thereto by the violence of a Passion that renders this Action less odious , and which puts the Readers upon lamenting and pitying the Torments she endures , and the † † Quin morere ut merita cs . Aen. 4. Death she condemn'd her self to . Elsewhere he makes her Exercise her craftiness only upon Noble , Lawful , and glorious Occasions . * * Sunt hic sua praemia laudi . Aen. 1. He gives her Qualities truly Royal. She is Magnificent , Courteous , and has a great esteem for Virtue . All this is to be observ'd in that obliging way whereby she entertain'd the Trojans before ever she had seen Aeneas .

In the second Part of the Poem there are a great many more interested persons than in the first . Latinus is a very good and pious Prince , but old and without Sons . This gives the Queen an occasion of disobeying his orders , and Turnus a desire of being his Son-in-Law in spite of him , and of forcing the good old Man to proclaim War against Aeneas , and of making use of his Subjects , his Arms , and his Authority . This default of Authority is natural and ordinary among Kings that have no Heirs .

Amata pretends to have a kind of Right of disposing of her Daughter . She is strangely affected for her Kinsman Turnus . She was so obstinately bent upon having him for her Son-in-Law , that she had rather die than change her Resolution . This obstinacy of the Woman put her upon taking all manner of Shapes , keeps up her Anger and her Violence , and is the principal Character the Poet gives her .

The Character of Turnus is the same with that of † † Alius Latio jam partus Achilles . Aen. 6. Achilles as far as the alteration of the Design , and the Difference of the Fable , would admit . 'T is a young Man , furious , and passionate for a Damsel that a Rival would rob him of . * * Arma amens fremit , arma thoro tectisque requirit ; Saevit amor ferri , & scelerata insania belli . Aeneid . 7. His mind is all upon Arms and War without troubling his head whether it be just , or whether the want of Justice , and the contrary order of the Gods make it criminal and impious . He suffers himself to be transported with Anger , the most prevailing of all his Passions . This is the first Idea our Poet gives of him and which he always keeps up very carefully . He is less of a Soldier , and more of a General than Achilles . But this General in Office sometimes forgot himself to act the part of a private Soldier . † † Et si continuo victorem ea cura subisser , Rumpere claustra manu , sociosque immittere portis : Ultimus ille dies bello gentique fuisset . Sed furor ardentem caedisque insana cupido Egit in adversos . Aen. 9. Had it not been for this , he might have put an end to the War the very second Day , when breaking into the Entrenchments of Aeneas , which he besieg'd , his fury made him forget to keep the passage open for his own Men , as he might easily have done . So far is it true that Anger is his principal Character . He was so full of the Idea of Achilles , and so far master of his Spirit , that he brags of being like him . * * Hic etiam inventum Priamo narrabis Achillem . Aeneid . 9. Go , says he to Pandarus , when he kill'd him , Go tell Priam thou hast met with a second Achilles here . The Poet makes use of these artifices to shew the Readers what sort of humour Turnus was of .

The Character of this Hero has likewise this injustice of Achilles , in that , from his own particular Quarrel he raises a general War , renders his Anger pernicious to both Parties , and more to his own than to that of the Enemy , and exposes so many thousand Innocents for his single Interest . The blackness of this Character is shaded , as the vices of Achilles , by the Lustre of a wonderful courage .

This may suffice without speaking of the other Personages , one may apply to them whatever we have said here concerning the Manners and the Character .

CHAP. XI . What the Character is .

FRom what has been said we may infer , that in the Epick Poem the Character is not properly any particular Vertue or Quality , but a composition of several , which are mix'd together in a different degree with the Ornaments and Beauty 't is capable of observing , the necessity of the Fable , and the unity of the Action .

All the Qualities that go toward the making this composition cannot be all of the same class , nor be equal among themselves . Because one carrying the Hero upon one Encounter , and another upon another Encounter , the Character will seem varied , and the Poem as well as the Hero will look like a Body animated with several Souls . 'T is requisite then there should be one commanding Quality to Rule the rest , and be the Soul of them , and that this appear throughout . After the same manner as a Hero being painted in divers Fables ought to be discern'd in all , and to have the same Features in his Countenance , let his Postures and his Passions be never so different . This commanding Quality in Achilles is his Anger , in Vlysses the Art of Dissimulation , and in Aeneas Meekness . Each of these may by way of Eminence be styl'd the Character in these Heroes .

But these Characters cannot be alone . 'T is absolutely necessary that some other should give them a lustre and embellish them , as far as they are capable : Either by hiding the defects that are therein by some noble and shining Qualities , as the Poet has done the Anger of Achilles , by shading it with an extraordinary Valour ; or making them entirely of the nature of a true and solid Vertue , as is to be observ'd in the two others . The Dissimulation of Vlysses is a part of his prudence , and the Meekness of Aeneas is wholly employ'd in submitting the will of this Hero to the Gods . For the making up this Union our Poets have joyn'd together such Qualities as are by nature the most compatible . Valour with Anger , Piety with Goodness , and Prudence with Dissimulation . This last Union was necessary for the Goodness of Vlysses , for without that his Dissimulation might have degenerated into wickedness and knavery .

Besides , the Fable requir'd Prudence in Vlysses , and Piety in Aeneas , as we before observ'd . In this the Poets were not left to their choice . But Homer might have made Achilles not valiant . The Cowardice of this Hero would have abated nothing of the justness of his Fable . So that 't is the necessity he lay under of adorning his Character , and of not making Achilles vicious , where there was no need for it , that oblig'd him to give him the Title of Valiant .

The Valour then as well as the Prudence , and the Piety in the other two Poems , which are the secondary Qualities we have been speaking of make up the Goodness of each Hero , and communicate this same Goodness to the whole Poem . But if on the one hand , this secondary Quality is an ornament to the first , on the other it receives such a determination from it , as makes its extent less , but withall more just ; a Hero may be endu'd with a peaceful , generous , and Roman Valour , which is ready to pardon injuries upon submission . Such is the Valour of Aeneas . He may likewise be endued with a Cholerick , Cruel , Brutish , and Inexorable Valour which never pardons , and had rather its Vengeance should fall upon its Friends , than spare one single Enemy , and this is the Valour and Character of Achilles .

But should we consider these two Qualities a-part , for to know which of them deserves chiefly to be styl'd the Character , we shall presently exclude Valour , since 't is neither essential to the Fable , nor does Achilles make any shew of it , but keeps it without Action for above half the Poem : Nor lastly does the Poet sing it . But he sings the Anger , and this Anger is necessary to the Fable , at least it is predominant as much during the absence of Achilles , as when he is reunited to the Grecians and fights in Person . So Prudence is not the principal part of the Character of Vlysses , since the Poet does not sing a prudent Man , but a Man that changes himself into all sorts of forms . We may likewise say , that the Meekness of Aeneas is his chief Quality , thô the word Pius which the Poet makes use of , signifies equally Meekness and Piety .

To these two Qualities must a third be joyned to support them , and carry on the Character with greater force . A Prince will be to no purpose good and pious , or prudent and dissembling , if he is not Valiant and Brave : He will meet with many invincible Difficulties . Without Valour Aeneas would have been routed by Turnus , and Vlysses would have fainted under a hundred hardships . Valour then is necessary to produce great Designs , and to put them in Execution . But there is no need to dwell longer on this Subject . The consequences thereof are very clear .

We conclude then , that the Character of the Hero in the Epick Poem , is compounded of three sorts of Qualities . Those of the first sort are necessary and essential to the Fable . That of the second are the Ornaments of it . Valour which supports both makes the third sort . The first , which is the Principal , must be some Universal Quality , such as should be met with in all sorts of Occasions , and Encounters , and such as should make the Hero known throughout .

In the Character of the other Personages there is likewise some Composition , for one single Quality can never exactly distinguish one Person from others , unless it be determin'd by some other that may render it proper and singular . But 't is not necessary that Valour or any other Noble Inclination , should be admitted into these lesser Characters . I see nothing that 's Noble or Good in Thersites , Amata , or in that number of dull Souls in the Odysseis , and without mentioning these last , or Drances in whom the Poets have not express'd the least Valour . The Women that are introduced into Poems , do manifestly exclude the necessity of this Warlike Quality .

CHAP. XII . Of the Vnity of the Character in the Hero .

THe exactness of our Poets presents us with an Vnity in the Character , which we cannot pass by without a Reflection . It is observ'd in the Conduct of the Hero in particular , and in that of the whole Poem ; and I fansy one might apply to both the first Rule of Horace , which order that every thing be reduc'd to a Simplicity and Vnity . It seems indeed , as if the Character were as much the Life and Soul of the Hero , and the whole Action , as the Fable is of the Poem , and consequently it seems to require as exact an Vnity . We will begin with the Hero's Character . We have already hinted at this Vnity of the Character in the Personages , when we said that the Manners ought to be even or equal . If we would suppose the Equality of the Manners , and the Vnity of the Character to be one and the same thing , then in treating of this point under the Title of the Equality of the Manners , I had forgot what I have here added under this Head of the Vnity of the Character . I said there , that the Equality consisted in giving no one Person such Sentiments as were contrary to one another . But I add here , that this is not sufficient for the Vnity of the Character , and that 't is moreover necessary , that the same Spirit appear in all sorts of Encounters , whether similar , contrary , or others .

Thus Aeneas for instance , acting with a great deal of Piety and Mildness in the first part of his Poem , which requires no other Character , and afterwards making a great shew of an Heroical Valour in the Wars of the second part , but without any appearance either of a hard or a soft Disposition , would doubtless be far from offending against what we have laid down about the Equality of the Manners : But yet there would be no Simplicity or Vnity in this Character . So that besides the Qualities , that claim their particular place upon different occasions , there must be one appearing throughout which Commands over all the rest . Without this we may affirm 't is no Character . And this is what would be that Poet's Fate , that would give his Hero the Piety of Aeneas , and the Valour of Achilles , without reflecting on the mild Temper of the one , or the hard Nature of the other .

Or to speak more properly , this Poet could by no means give his Hero the Qualities of the two other Hero's . There is a great deal of difference between a Face in General , and the Face of Aeneas in Particular , between a Fore-head , a Nose , a Mouth , and an Eye in General , and the Fore head , Eyes , Nose , and Mouth of Achilles . There is likewise a great deal of difference between Valour in General , and the Valour of Achilles , and between Piety in General , and the Piety of Aeneas . This is evident from the Thoughts and the Practice of the Latin Poet. Had he taken Achilles for a Model of Valour , and had he thought that Homer had carry'd this Quality to the highest pitch , it could go , certainly he would have made his Aeneas a great deal more like the Greek Hero , than he has Tarnus , since he makes him a great deal more Valiant than Turnus , and he would never have fail'd giving this Idea to his Readers , and telling them , that Aeneas is another Achilles . How comes it to pass that he never does this ? And on the contrary , gives this Quality to Turnus several times : 'T is doubtless because he saw well enough , that 't is by the Character one Man resembles another , and that Valour in General is not the Character of Achilles : That to be more Valiant as Aeneas , or less Valiant as Turnus , 't is not requir'd that one should have more or less of the Character of this Grecian Hero : But that one shall resemble him the more , the more one is endu'd with a Cholerick , Violent , and unjust Valour , as Turnus was , and that on the contrary , one shall have a Character opposite to that of Achilles , tho' one be never so Valiant , when one is Reasonable , Mild , and Moderate .

One may then make a Hero as Valiant as Achilles , as Pious as Aeneas , and if one please , as Prudent as Vlysses . But 't is a meer Chimaera to imagine a Hero that has the Valour of Achilles , the Piety of Aeneas , and the Prudence of Vlysses at one and the same time . This Vision might happen to an Author who would suit the Character of a Hero to whatever each part of the Action does naturally require , without regarding the Essence of the Fable , and the Vnity of the Character in the same Person upon all sorts of occasions . This Hero would be the mildest , best natur'd Prince in the World , and the most Cholerick , hard Hearted , and Implacable Creature imaginable , contrary to Horace's Prohibition in the Case . He would be extreamly tender as Aeneas , extreamly violent as Achilles , and would have the Indifference of Vlysses that is uncapable of the two extreams ; 't would be in vain for the Poet to call this Personage by the same Name throughout . The Hero of the Temple , and the Cabinet , would not be the Hero of the Field .

But can there be no Moderation nor Accommodation made by giving a Hero as much Valour , Prudence , and Piety , as an honest Man is capable of , and by retrenching from each of these Qualities , whatever it has defective , and contrary to the two others ? To judge how far this practice is allowable , we need only reflect on the effects it would produce in several Poems , whose Authors were of the mind that the chief Character of any Hero , is that of an honest Man . They would be alike in all these pieces , we should see them all Valiant in Battel , Prudent in Counsel , Pious in the Acts of Religion , Courteous , Civil , Magnificent , and lastly , endu'd with all the prodigious Vertues , the best Poet could invent . All this would be independant from the Action , and the Subject of the Poem . And upon seeing each Hero separated from the rest of the Work , we should not easily guess to what Action , and to what Poem the Hero does belong . So that we should see that none of these would have a Character , since the Character is that which makes a Person discernable , and which distinguishes it from all others .

Nor would this false Resemblance be only among the Hero's , but likewise among the other Personages , which one were willing to represent as honest Men. They would not differ from the Hero himself , but as Plus and Minus . He would be a more Honest , more Valiant , and more Prudent Man , &c.

Homer and Virgil , furnish us with quite different Examples . Achilles , Vlysses , and Aeneas have nothing in common , and differ as much among themselves as the three Poems , and the three Actions , of which they are the Hero's . They have each of them a Character which admirably distinguishes them from others , and whose Vnity and Simplicity is so exact , and so uniform , as to make them appear the same upon all occasions . Homer has so prepar'd his Fables , that 't was easie for him to preserve this Vnity in the principal parts . Virgil has done the contrary . His first part is like the Action of the Odysseis , whose Character is Coolness , Disimulation , and Prudence . The second is like the Iliad , full of the Horrors of War , which naturally draw along with them Anger and Cruelty , and yet he has made Mildness and the softest Passions predominant in both parts . Aeneas is as Meek and Pious when he kills Lausus in the heat of Battel , as he is in the Sports and the Peaceable and Religious Combats , which he Celebrated in Honour of his Father Anchiser . He is as Modest when his Vanquish'd Enemies fell at his Feet to Implore his Pardon , as when being himself toss'd about by a Storm , and cast upon a strange Countrey , he was forc'd to Implore the Favour of Dido .

CHAP. XIII . The Unity of the Character in the Poem .

IF the Vnity of the Character seems hard to be made in the Person of Aeneas , because this Hero is in so many different Encounters , which naturally require opposite Characters ; this difficulty is still greater in the Series of the whole Poem , since beside this variety of Actions , the Poet introduces Personages whose Humours are contrary to that of the Hero . Dido is Violent and Passionate , Turnus , Amata , and Mezentius , who are the secondary Hero's , and who do all that is done on their side , are as opposite to Aeneas in their Characters as in their Interests . And yet to maintain the Vnity of the Character in the Poem , 't is requisite , that these opposite Characters should centre in the Character of the Hero , and so submit thereto , that It alone should be predominant in both the Parties , as the Author of the Iliad makes Anger to be the Commanding Passion as well in the City of Troy , as in the Grecian Camp .

All Poets have not been so circumspect . We see Claudian's Genius is not rais'd to this Justness and Accurateness , nor has he made so exact proportions . The furious and terrible Character of Pluto and the Furies , and all the Horror of Hell it self is presently Metamorphos'd into the Character and the Pleasure of the Graces , the Goddesses , the gilt Palaces , and the Flowery Meads . All this Joy does again give way to the Sorrows , and Complaints of a Mother for the loss of a Daughter . This Author has no Idea of his whole Work . When he Composes one part of it , he never thinks on any thing else . He has begun with the Infernal Deities , and in all this beginning , one can see nothing but the Furies they are capable of . Afterwards he speaks of the Visit which Venus , Diana , and Minerva make to young Proserpine , and this is wholly taken up with Joys and Pleasures . Lastly , he describes the fear and sorrow of Ceres , and then he thinks on no other Passion , and he suits himself so well to each thing he Treats on , independantly from the rest of the Poem , that in his three Books he has as many different , principal , and reigning Characters as there are in the threescore Books of our three Poems . There we see Anger , Dissimulation , and Meekness reigning each of them apart and singly in the Iliad , in the Odysseis , and in the Aeneid . And in the three Books of the Rape of Proserpine , we meet with Terror , Joy , and Sadness . This is an instance of an Error that corrupts the Vnity of the Character in the Poem .

The Practice of our Poets is quite otherwise . They alter not the Soul when they form different Members to the same Body . They know that the Eye , which is the most delicate part , and the Hand , which is the most laborious and hardy , have yet the same Spirit in the same Person . So that they mind less the particular incidents of their Action , and the Humour of each Personage , than they do the general Character of the Fable .

For this purpose , Virgil lays no constraint upon the Character of the Hero which ought to be predominant throughout . He gives it a full and entire Liberty , and on the contrary , he moderates the rest , and claps a Print upon them to hold them in , either by some Passion or by some dependance , the persons that have them , are in to some Body else . Aeneas is absolute Master of his Actions , he has none that he is oblig'd to accommodate himself to upon what occasion soever . Nor is this peculiar to the Latin Poet ; he imitates therein the Greek Poet , whose Vlysses is as independant as Aeneas . Achilles has a General over him , but this General is only as the Chief among equal Princes . Achilles then is not his Subject , and take him from the Seige of Troy , he has no Orders to receive from him . Besides , expecting no favour or good will from him , and being Cholerick and Unjust , he has no Obedience to pay him , nor measures to take to please him , and he thinks he has sufficient grounds to withdraw his Obedience from him . Nay , when he is reconcil'd to him , and enters again upon his Duty , yet he receives no Orders from him ; on the contrary , without consulting with this General , or any other of the Confederate Princes , he on his own Head makes a Truce with his Enemies in behalf of them all . 'T is therefore a great Artifice in Homer , when he makes Achilles the most Valiant of the Confederates , but withall Unjust , and without Interest , and on the contrary , makes Agamemnon the General , very much Interested for the Honour of his Brother Menelaus and his own . This is what respects the Hero .

As for the other Personages , Homer has made the Vnity of the Character easie , by giving Violence and Anger to the greatest part of the Commanders on both sides . The Latin Poet is harder put to it , because he has made the Enemies of his Hero to have humours that are contrary to that of his Hero , but withal , he has annexed to them such Passions and Dependances that are no small advantage to his Vnity .

Turnus has in truth no dependance on King Latinus , either as his Subject or his Ally . This old Prince is neither his King , nor his General . He depends upon him after another way , as the Courtier of Lavinia his Daughter and sole Heiress . For under this pretention he dares not disoblige a Prince , that owes him nothing , and from whom he would obtain so much . He is therefore oblig'd in many respects to submit to him , and to take such measures as take off much of his fierceness and passion . Besides this , he sees the Victories of his Rival , to whom he is oblig'd to yield the Glory of Arms in the judgment of Latinus and Amata her self ; he sees the ill success of all his designs , the death of those he put most confidence in , Mezentius , Camilla , &c. he sees the Latins decrease , and hears the Reproaches they cast upon him . All this must needs cause strange Impressions on the mind of this Latin Achilles ; and hinder him from carrying on his Character so far as the Grecian did his .

Mezentius has a less part in the Poem than Turnus . But he is too considerable to admit of his furious and cruel Character in all its force . The Poet makes this prophane person much in love with his Son , as he was a despiser of the Gods . He so luckily makes use of this natural Passion , that it renders his tenderness conspicuous , and makes the Character of Aeneas Conqueror over the fury of this Barbarian . His design in renewing the Battel was only to rejoin his Son . * * Nec tecum meus haec pepigit mihi foedera Lausus . Unum hoc per , siqua est victis venia hostibus , oro ; Corpus humo patiare regi . Scio acerba meorum Circunstare odia : hunc ( oro ) defende furorem . Et me consortem nati comede sepulcro . Aen. 10. The violence of his Paternal Love forces him to beseech Aeneas to favour him so far , as to let him be buried in the same Grave with his Son , and he dies full of the tender and sad Idea he had of his dear Lausus .

This same Artifice does likewise change the violences of Dido into a more moderate Character by these two ways . The first is , the inability wherein the Queen is plac'd , * * Non potui abreptum divellere corpus & undis Spargere ? Non socios , non ipsum absumere ferro Ascanium ? patriisque epulandum apponere mensis . Aen. 4. What , Can't I , says she , tear his Body in pieces , and scatter his mangled Limbs in the Sea ? O! that I could but cut the Throats of his Comrades , butcher his dear Ascanius , and serve him up in a Banquet to his Father , &c. These are the wildest excesses of a most violent and terrible fury . But she is in such circumstances , that the Reader is not afraid any ill effects will follow . He is not concern'd for Aeneas , and Ascanius , since they are no longer within her reach , and he only pities this poor Princess , from whose Mouth her misfortunes had forc'd this Language . * * Improbe amor , quid non mortalia pectora cogis ? Ire iterum in lacrymas , iterum tentare precando Cogitur , & supplex animos submittere amori . Ibid. The other Method , is the Love of this same Queen which in the midst of her Rage and fury tames her , and forces her to melt into tears , and to abandon her self to the tenderness of her Passions .

Another Method Virgil makes use of , is to interrupt the fights by calm and tender Episodes , which make the Character of the Hero still predominant . Thus the assault made upon the Camp of Aeneas , and the fury of Turnus , is moderated by the Episode of Remulus which is diverting : by that of the Ships chang'd into Nymphs which is admirable , and by that of Nisus and Euryalus which is soft and moving — We may reduce all that has been said of the Vnity of the Character to these few Heads .

The first and the Foundation of all the rest , is to give the Hero a precise and sensible Character , which may appear in all sorts of Encounters .

Secondly , This Hero must be independent , and left at full liberty to carry on his Character and Humour in all the force and extent it is capable of .

Thirdly , The Poet may bestow this very Character on the other Personages that are most apparent and active , whether they be on the Hero's side , or on the contrary Party , or whether they be Divine Persons . This is the practice of Homer in his Iliad .

Fourthly , When there is given to these other Personages some Character or other that is opposite to that of the Hero , it must not be carry'd on in all its force . And as this Moderation cannot proceed naturally from Persons themselves , it is produc'd either by some Passion , or by some Dependance , as we have seen in Dido , Mezentius and Turnus .

The Fifth way , is to interrupt the particular Actions which of themselves require an opposite Character by such Episodes as are suitable to the general Character . Thus the Death of Lausus causes pity and tenderness to bear sway amidst the Furies of War , and has the same Effects which the Episode of Nisus and Euryalus has . To these five ways we might likewise join the Thoughts , Figures , and Expressions of which we shall speak in the last Book of this Treatise .

CHAP. XIV . Of the Justness of the Character .

THis is a Point of the greatest difficulty as well as Importance , as well to those that Compose , as to those that Read and Criticize . It depends not only on the Art , but likewise on the Goodness and Justness of the Genius , and on a profound insight into all Morality . With great reason then does * * Scribendi rectè sapere est principium & fons . Rem tibi Socraticae poterunt ostendere chartae . Poet. Horace carry the necessity of this Doctrine so high , and teach us that the Principle and Source of all that is good in a Poem , is this Wisdom which Socrates made profession of , that is the Knowledge , and the Practice of Moral Philosophy . This teaches us what is Vertue , and what is Vice , and informs us that there are some Qualities which in their own Nature , being neither Vertues , nor Vices , may be indifferently joyn'd to either one or the other of them , and be met with in Bad , as well as Good men .

The first thing we are to Study , is the Nature of each Character and Habit wherein it precisely consists . What Good or Evil it is capable of , and how far it may rise or fall without degenerating from its Nature , and without being confounded with any other Habit that may perhaps bear some relation thereto . Wherein for Example consists a solid Piety without Preciseness , Grimace , and Libertinism ; and without a certain turbulency of Spirit , that is dangerous and of an ill consequence : how far one may extend ones Liberality , without being Prodigal : and how a Man should manage his expences , without being either too Liberal or too Sparing .

To this we likewise refer the Knowledge we ought to have of the Habits or Qualities in general , such as they say are abstracted and separated from the particular Subjects , as also of the Qualities , that are particulariz'd by the Subjects wherein they are , for we should rightly distinguish Valour in general from the Valour of Achilles , and not confound that with the Valour of Aeneas .

What we say here , is not with a design to exclude out of a Poem , whatever Morality condemns . A Poet should never set bad Examples , but there 's a great deal of difference between a bad Example , and the Example of a bad Action or a bad Person . The Lacedaemonians never intended to propose bad Examples to their Children , when , to deter them from Drunkenness , they expos'd to their view , Slaves that they had made down-right drunk . It is therefore lawful for the Poet to make use of Achilles's and Mezentius's , as well as Vlysses's and Aeneas's . He may represent Prodigality and Avarice , as well as Liberality and the wise Oeconomy of a good Husband , and an honest Trades-Man . But whatever he designs , whether for Vertue , Vice , or any indifferent Quality , he must at least be sensible of what he does , not only because 't would be a disgrace for him to be Ignorant in the case , but because this Knowledge puts him upon acting with a great deal more exactness .

'T is so important , that without these notices , he is in danger too often of setting very bad Examples , and of offending against that which is essential to every Art , which is to be profitable , and in particular against the nature of the Fable and the Epopéa , whose only design is to lay down Instructions of Vertue . If then a Poet knows not what a solid and true Piety is , and how far it may extend without excess , he will introduce a Personage that will pass for a very good Man , he will give him such Vertues and Qualities as are dazling and lovely , he will create for him the good Will and Esteem of all his Auditors , and after he has Arm'd him with so dangerous an Authority , he will put him upon venting gravely and in quaint Expressions , such Maxims as are false , but fair and plausible in all outward appearance , and with a turn that shall bewitch Mens Minds . Thus Aeneas would have been a very bad Example , if being represented so Prudent and Honest a Man , he should prefer the Endearments and Love of Dido before the Orders of Jupiter : Or if being persecuted by Juno , he had slighted this Goddess as if 't were allowable to be less submissive to God under the Crosses that befall us , than when every thing happens as we would have it . Or lastly if this same Hero relying on the Credit of the Oracles , which could not deceive him , had spared himself the Travels and Dangers he unwent , as if the Favours and Promises of God who loves us , should make us more lazy and negligent . Virgil commits none of these faults . His Conduct teaches us , That the Promises of God , tho' infallible , should yet serve only to put us upon endeavouring more ardently and faithfully to merit the Effects of them . And in this Opposition which he sets between Juno and Aeneas , he likewise gives us this admirable Lesson : That when God seems to declare himself against us , we should only contend against him with our Prayers , our Vows , our Oblations , our Submission , and that these are the only Weapons by which he suffers himself to be Conquer'd .

But the Poet does not set any bad Example , when he shews in Mezentius Sentiments , that are contrary to these Maxims . We are neither surpriz'd , nor offended that this Man , whom we know for an Impious Person , seeing his Affairs succeed so ill , should contemn the Gods , acknowledge no other but his own Arm and Javelin , prefer his Son Lausus to all the Gods , which others ador'd , and make an Idol of him who is both the Object of his Vows , and the Trophee he would adorn with the Spoils of the Vanquish'd Aeneas . No body would live according to these Maxims , but such as would be deliberately Impious , Barbarous , and an Odium to the rest of Mankind , to cure this strange Distemper of the Mind , the Poet presents us with the miserable end of this Atheist , whom the Death of Lausus disheartens and oppresses with very sensible pains , raising in him a sense of all the Miseries to which he was reduc'd , which his Brutality and the hopes he had of being re-establish'd , would not let him see till then .

Besides these Vices and Vertues , one is in danger of offending in the wrong use of some middle Quality , and the danger will be greater , and the Error more considerable , if this Quality make a great shew and noise , such as Valour in War . That of Achilles is Vicious , and yet it so dazled the Eyes of Young Alexander , that that to partake of that false Glory which he admires in this Hero , he has committed in cold Blood a more unworthy Brutality , than that to which the Anger and Revenge of Achilles carry'd him , when he drags the Body of Hector round Troy , Hector was dead , and * * Q. Curtius . Alexander drags the live Governor of a Town he had won .

And likewise , without minding what is Good and Vicious in Valour , one may be deceiv'd in not rightly distinguishing what is solid in it , from what is only glazing . The Age in which we begin to judge of these Characters , commonly casts us into this Error , and into that we mention'd before : Youth always fastens upon the very first appearances , and never penetrates as far as to the solidity of a thing , and when we are once preposess'd , 't is a hundred to one , that we ever get perfectly free from our Prejudices . One must be very fortunate , or have a clear Intellect and exact Judgment , and more than that , a curiosity and desire to be acquainted with that which perhaps one does not judge important enough to deserve a long and serious Study . Very often likewise the Customs of the Countrey , and Education , produce these bad effects upon the Mind , and entertain them in this Ignorance , and in such Judgments as are very disadvantageous to Vertue . If we see Duels fought upon every slight Offence , we shall imagine that a Man has no Valour , if he puts up an Affront without fighting , and he will meet with too many of his Friends who will prompt him to this sort of Revenge as Criminal as it is . This is what a Person would never do , who , according to the Precepts of * * Qui didicit patriae quid debeat & quid amicis . Horace , had learnt the Duty of a faithful Friend and a good Subject . And a Poet would never put this Maxim into the Practice , or Mouth of a Personage , he has a Mind to represent as a Man of Honour .

But to return to what we were saying about the distinction that ought to be made between the Lustre and the Solidity of Valour ; we will make this one Remark , that seems to me very important : 't is this , That these two things are oft times opposite in the Essence of the Character . Violent and Transporting Characters give a great deal more Lustre to the Actions they animate , and to the Persons that have them ; and on the contrary , the most Mild and Moderate , are often without any Lustre and Glory , yet these last are a great deal more proper to Vertue .

Perhaps I insist too much on this Subject , but 't is of some moment both in General , and in the Instance I propos'd just now of a Warlike Valour , since this Quality is most usual in all Epopéas , and the most capable of dazling both the Poets and the Readers . I will therefore explain this Instance by the Valour that is in the Aeneid .

How many are there , that put a higher value on the Warlike Vertues of Achilles , and I will add even on those of Turnus , than on those of Aeneas ? Yet Achilles is but a Souldier , and Aeneas a Commander . How then comes it to pass that they judge thus ? Unless 't is because they take the Noise , the Show , and the Transports of a furious Man for true Valour .

If after the same manner we compare Turnus with Aeneas , the Pious Hero will doubtless seem inferior to his Rival . But whoever will sit down here , and will take the consequences and the ordinary attendance of a Quality for the Quality it self , he will fall into the same impertinence as Numanus , who in reproach to the Trojans , says , they deserve not the Name of Souldiers , and that they had no more courage than Women , because their way of dress is gaudy and delicate . This is doubtless for want of being well acquainted with the Vertues of War , and what the exact Character of a Valiant Man is .

Valour is the finest Ornament of the Character of Turnus , and one might add , that 't is all the goodness that is in it ; and this quality in Aeneas gives place to several others and principally to his Piety . Therefore Piety is the thing that should be conspicuous in Aeneas , his Valour should appear much less , and on the other Hand Valour should be very illustrious and very shining in the person of Turnus : So that he should be as much in love with War , as Aeneas is in love with , and desirous of Peace . Whatever Turnus does in the Battels , or in preparing for them , is usually done with Design , with Pleasure , and with Discourses that are Magnificent , very Pompous , and Cogent . Aeneas commonly acts without Noise and Affectation , he speaks little , and if he falls into a Passion , 't is not so much to fight , as because he is forc'd to fight and defend himself ; 't is not so much to Conquer , as to put an end to the War .

But if the Lustre and the dazling show make the Valour of Turnus more conspicuous than that of Aeneas , yet the Actions shew that in truth and reality , the Valour of Aeneas is infinitely Superiour to that of Turnus . We need only consider them without this Lustre , and without this outward appearance , which a bold Bragadocio and a rash young Man may have as well as the truest Bravo .

Turnus , during the absence of Aeneas , assaults his Camp , being design'd , prepar'd and arm'd with Malice , and in three or four days he could not force it . He breaks in by a passage his Bravery had opened for him , he is constrain'd to break out again , and at last , after an Engagement of two days , he is Routed and Vanquish'd by Aeneas with a bloody Slaughter . Aeneas on the other Hand in the sight of Turnus , and in view of an Army of Enemies , assaults an ancient Town well built , and well fortified , and in a few hours becomes Master of its Rampants and Towers . He is not forc'd thence by his Enemies , * * At Pius Aeneas audito nomine Turni deserit & muros , & summas desetis arcos . Aen. 12. but he comes down to make an end of the War by the Death of Turnus , whom he forces to a Battel .

Pallas is conquer'd and kill'd by Turnus , and Lausus by Aeneas . These young Princes were equal in Valour , but there is a great deal of difference between the Bravery of their Conquerors . Turnus seeks this Battle ; * * Solus ego in Pallanta feror , soli mihi Pallas Debetur ; cuperem ipse parens spectator adesset . Aeneid . 10. he makes his Boasts and Brags of it , and insults over this young Enemy , who never fought a Battle before . He wishes Evander were present , he would butcher the Son before his Father's Face . This is the Valour of another Achilles . † † Quo moriture tuis majoraque viribus audes ? Fallit te incautum pietas tua . Nec minus ille Exultat demens . Saevae jamque altius Irae Dardanio surgunt ductori . Aen. 10. Aeneas is far from engaging with Lausus after this Manner , who exposes himself for his Father's sake . He on the contrary would save his Life , he drives him off , threatens him , and becomes terrible and furious only , because he was forc'd to kill him . This is an Anger worthy of Aeneas , and the exact Character of an Hero more valiant than Turnus , but withal more pious than valiant . The extream danger wherein he was , being assaulted not only by Lausus , but by a great many others at the same time , does not yet hinder him from taking notice of that Affection which this Enemy ( who design'd his Death ) had for his Father . Certainly it must needs argue greater Valour and Bravery to spare an Enemy at such a time , than Turnus ever made appear in any of his Actions .

Aeneas and Turnus do the same Action of Generosity in returning the Bodies of these two Princes . But Turnus with his usual Noise and Show insults over Pallas and Evander , and seems as if he sent back the Body of the Son to his Unfortunate Father , only to increase his sorrow . * * Qualem meruit Pallanta remitto . I send him back his Pallas ( says he ) just such a one as he deserves to see him . This is a very cruel generosity , and very becoming an Achilles . That of Aeneas is all vertuous all sincere . Turnus insults o'er Pallas , sets his foot upon him , strips him of part of his Armour , and decks himself with it : * * Ingemuit miserans dextramque tetendit , & mentem patriae subiit pietatis imago . Quid tibi nunc , miserande puer , &c. Aeneas laments the Death of Lausus , makes his Elegy , lifts him from the ground himself ; takes him between his Arms , and reprimands the Tyrrhens for being so backward in carrying off their Prince .

You may see then how in the distribution of the Valour , Virgil gives Aeneas and Turnus , he allows the last all that this Quality has of Beauty and splendor in appearance : and how in giving to Aeneas that which was without all dispute greater and more real , he is satisfied with the solid part of it , and makes what is glaring and dazling in it to give place to the sweet temper and the Piety of his Hero . Because Piety makes up the goodness of Aeneas's Character , as valour makes up all that Turnus has of good in his Character .

But whatever we discommend here in the Character of this last Hero , yet 't is only an Evil in Morality , which does not make it the less good in a Poetical Sense . These Reflections are not designed to banish it out of Poems , but so to distinguish Vertue from Vice , that a Poet may know what he does , when he gives his Personage the one or the other ; and that a Reader may judge of it without being mistaken . That he confound not what a Quality ( such as Valour for Instance ) has of glaring , with what it has of solidity . That he suffer not himself to be dazled with the formalities of Turnus , as if Aeneas were not in truth a great deal more valiant than he : And that he imagine not that any Man of Honour is capable of the generosity , and the War-like Vertues which Virgil bestows upon Turnus , and Homer upon his Achilles .

Nor is it at all necessary to carry the Character of an exact and Vertuous Hero , as far as Virgil has done that of Aeneas . The endeavours he uses to avoid killing Lausus , the sorrow he shews for it , the praises he bestows upon him , and the rest that we have taken notice of , exceeds the Character of a simple generosity , and is the Effect of that Piety , which is predominant in Aeneas , and in the whole Poem . And it may be so contriv'd that these things , thus carried on , would not only , not be a perfection in a Man of Honour of another Poem , but also spoil the justness of the Character . So great a difference is there between Generosity in general , the Generosity of Aeneas , and the Generosity of every other Particular Person .

CHAP. XV. Of false Characters .

I Call those true Characters which we truly and really see in Men , or which may be in them without any difficulty . No one questions but there have been Men , as generous and as good as Aeneas , as passionate and violent as Achilles , as prudent and wise as Vlysses , as Impious and Atheistical as Mezentius , as passionate as Dido and Amata , &c. So that all these Characters are true . Poets may regularly make use of them . And when they do , these are not simple and imaginary Fictions , but just imitations of such things as really are or may be .

On the contrary , I affirm that a Character is false , when an Author so feigns it , that one can see nothing like it in the order of Nature , wherein he designs it shall stand . These Characters should be wholly excluded from a Poem , because , transgressing all the bounds both of Reason and Probability , they meet with no belief from the Readers . They are by so much the more offensive to them , by how much the Poet seems to slight them , and to take them for silly persons on whom he may impose what he pleases .

The desire of amplifying , and making every thing that 's said , look great , and marvellous , casts young Poets into this Error , and all others who are not indued with a justness of Mind , and are not rightly informed . The Enthusiastick Genius of Statius will afford us some instances of this bad conduct .

He would bestow the Character of Achilles upon Tydeus , and inspire him with his Passions , and his Anger sustained by his Valour . * * Atque illum effracti perfusum tabe cerebri Aspicit & vivo scelerantem sanguine fauces . Nec comites auferre valent . Stat. But is such an excessive Anger tolerable which puts him upon eating the Head of his Enemy ? Upon drinking the Blood that gush'd from him ? Upon devouring his very Brains ? Which represents him with his face horribly besmeared with this Blood and Brains , so that his friends could neither pluck this Rage from his Heart , nor this Head from between his Hands and Teeth . He did not think he should make him valiant enough , if he let him loose to five or six Men only . He must needs make him kill fifty of them . This excess is so much the more ridiculous , since we know that it cost the Poet nothing . A water Poet or a raw Scholar might as easily say , that his Hero kill'd a thousand Men , as that he conquered two or three of them . There is neither Art nor Invention in this , but an ill governed fancy and a perfect Ignorance of the justness of his Character .

This Poet has done the same in the Character he has given to Capaneus , he makes him Valiant and Impious . And perhaps he had a mind to imitate Mezentius , as he has imitated other passages , of the Aenied . But instead of making such a Man as he ought he has made only a Chimera . Indeed he was not oblig'd to make the violences of this Personage to change into Mildness and Tenderness , as Virgil has done that of Mezentius , for the reasons above mentioned : But what need had he to make him insult o'er the Gods more like a Mad-Man than an Atheist ?

This Hero dies on the Wall of Thebes , which he was besieging . He was nigh making the whole Town tremble . * * Eminuit , trepidamque assurgens desuper Urbem Vidit , & ingenti Thebas exterruit umbra . Stat. His shadow only put them all into a constrnation . He was so far from being touched with Vanity at so surprizing a success , that he thinks this Victory beneath him , and is ashamed of such a pitiful thing . † † Increpat attonitos : Humilesne Amphionis arces . Proh pudor ! Hi faciles carmenque imbelle secuti , Et mentita diu Thebarum fabula muri . Et quidnam egregium prosternere moenia molli Structa Lyra ? Simul insultans gressuque manuque Diruit obstantes cuneas tabulataque saevus Destruit , absiliunt pontes tectique frementis Saxea fraena labant , disseptoque aggere rursus Utitur , & truncas rupes in tecta domosque Praecipitat , frangitque suis jam moenibus urbem . Stat. These Towers which Amphion built are too low , he takes it ill that the Fictions of Fable should ever dare to publish that those Fortifications were the Work of a Harper . For where 's the difficulty to raise the Ramparts that were raised by a Harp ? In truth there was neither need of Swords nor Machines . His hands and his Feet are enough to destroy those Walls and those Towers , to break down Bridges . After he had thus demolished these Fortifications with his Feet and Hands , he takes the Ruines and hurles them at the City , and beats down the Houses and Churches with them . This is what he does against Men.

He does not indeed do so much mischief to the Gods , but he frights them almost as much , and defies them to do him any harm . * * Nullane pro trepidis , clamabat , Numina Thebis ? Statis ? ubi infandae telluris alumni Bacchus & Alcides ? Piget instigare minores . Tu potius venias , ( quis enim concurrere nobis Dignior ) en cineres Semeleaque busta tenentur . Nunc age nunc totis in me connitere telis , Jupiter . What , says he to them , is there none of the Gods dare defend Thebes against me ? Where art thou Bacchus ? Or thou Hercules ? The Dastardly off-spring of this infamous City ? But I am ashamed , continues he , to defie the lesser Deities : Jupiter do thou come , for who else is more worthy to cope with me ? See the the Tomb , see the Ashes of thy dear Semele . Come , and defend them , and forget not to bring any thing that may assist thee . † † Fulguraque attritis quotics mic●ere procellis : His , ait , in Thebas , his jam decet ignibus uti . Hinc renovare facem , lassamque accendere quercum . Heaven presently is in Arms against this simple Man , and seems to be all on fire . Capaneus sees all this without being mov'd , and was so far from abating any thing of his fierceness , his threats , and the hopes he had of taking the City , spite of all the Gods , which declar'd War against him , that he was for snatching the Weapons from Heaven it self , and casting its Fires to burn the City . If Statius had not imagin'd these Extravagancies , one could never have believed they should enter into the Mind of any Author .

The Gods of this Poet do not take these for extravagancies . * * Ingemuit dictis superûm dolor , &c. They are really affraid of them , and dread this Man alone more than all Mankind together . They betake themselves to Jupiter . Apollo groans , Bacchus bemoans himself . Hercules much affrighted , with a Bow in his Hand , knows not on what to resolve . Venus is all in tears . To conclude , the calamity is Universal , and to the disgrace of Jupiter , ( before whom they seem to prefer Capaneus ) the admiration they conceived for this great Hero and struck them dumb , and made them fear this Sovereign of the Gods had not a shaft sufficient to conquer this single Man . The Poet himself gives us to understand , that their fear was not altogether groundless . For after Jupiter had shot his Thunder against him , with all his force , and had shatter'd to Dust the Armour Capaneus wore , this Bravo had still power left him to stand upon his Feet so long , that Jupiter thought he must shoot another Bolt at him .

One would fansie the fear is now over : But so great a Poet is not contented with so little . Cataneus during his life made only the Thebans tremble and fly ; and now at his Death , when he was destroyed by Thunder , he fills his own Men with consternation , and puts both Parties to flight , because they knew not on which side he would fall , nor whose Troops he would crush into pieces thereby .

This is an Instance of these false Characters , wherein Men fall for want of Judgment and Knowledge . An Author by these great Amplifications thinks he shall be a great Poet. But he even degrades himself from the very name of Poet ; since these Fictions being of such things as cannot be in Nature are no Imitations . And yet all Poesie is essentially an Imitation .

The Remedy for this is to believe * * Scribendi recte sapere est & principium & foris . Est modus in rebus , sunt certi denique fines , Quos ultra citraque nequit consistere rectum . Horace herein , and to be perfectly instructed in Morality . 'T is to know that all things have their Limitations : 'T is to know these Limitations , and to keep within them : 'T is lastly to be convinc'd , that those that transgress these bounds , as in the Examples we have been proposing , in propriety of speech make neither Characters nor Personages but meer Chimeras , which were never any where but in the Imaginary Species of these Authors Brains .

The End of the Fourth Book .

Monsieur Bossu's Treatise OF THE EPICK POEM . BOOK V. Concerning the Machines .

CHAP. I. Of the several sorts of Deities .

IN the former Book concerning the Manners , we discoursed concerning the Terrestrial , and Mortal Persons , and in this , under the name of Machines , we shall treat concerning the Divine and Immortal persons : So that this will be nothing else but a Consequence of what has been said about the Manners and the Persons ; since the Gods as well as Men are Actors in the Epopéa . We shew'd the Necessity of this in our first . * * Chap. 2. Book , where we likewise took notice that all these Divine Personages are Allegorical .

We observed that there are three sorts of them . Some are Theological , and were invented to explain the Nature of God : Others are Physical , and they represent Natural things : The last are Moral , and they are the Representations of Vertues and Vices . These three sorts of Divinities or Allegories , are sometimes to be met with in one and the same person . Now for Instances of each , and first we will begin with the Theological .

In the Convention of the Gods , by which Virgil opens his tenth Book , Jupiter , Juno , Venus , and ( we might add ) Fate , are Personages of the first sort ; that is , such as represent the Divine Nature divided into four Persons , as into so many Attributes . * * Hominum Divûmque aeterna potestas . Jupiter is the Power of God , Fate is his absolute Will. to which his very Power submits ; because God never acts contrary to his Will. † † Fata viam invenient , Rex Jupiter omnibus idem . Fate therefore determines Jupiter , who of himself is indifferent , and might as well act in behalf of Turnus , as in favour of Aeneas and his party . Venus is the Divine Mercy , and that Love which God bears towards Vertuous Men ; by which he is induced , never to forget them in the miseries they endure upon Earth , but to help them out of 'em , and finally to Reward them . Lastly , Juno is his Justice : This punishes even the least offences ; spares not even the very best of Men , who not being wholly Innocent , are punished severely for their defaults in this Life , where the Justice and the Temporal Wrath of God is often declar'd against them , and so persecutes them , that there might be nothing left in them but what was Vertuous , Meritorious , and matter of Reward . This Reward is reserved for them in Heaven , where this Vindictive Justice has nothing to do , and from whence it cannot exclude them , as * * Indigetem Aeneam scis ipsa , & scire fateris Deleri coelo . Jupiter tells Juno , when he mention'd Aeneas .

The Poet suits himself to our gross way of conceiving Divine things ; and to the Infirmity of our Minds , which makes us look upon these Qualities in God as opposite to one another . * * Nulla est regio Teucris quam det tua Conjux Dura . Mercy upbraids Justice of its severity , that it is never satisfied let Good Men suffer never so much , and that it never allows them any Repose here on Earth : whilst Justice on the other hand , accuses Goodness and Mercy of its being the Cause of all the Sins that are Committed , because it shelters Criminals , and puts them in hopes of going off unpunished .

The Deities of the second sort , that are purely Physical , are employ'd in the first Book in raising the storm against Aeneas . Aeolus is the Power of Nature , which gathers together about Hills and in their Caverns , the Vapours and Exhalations , whence Winds are form'd : And having digested these Matters to a certain degree of Heat and Dryness , puts them upon those Motions and Agitations which we call the Winds . 'T is thus that Aeolus is their Master . These Vapours and Exhalations arise in the Air , which is represented by Juno : 'T is therefore to this Goddess that the God of the Winds is beholden for his heavenly Chear . There 's no need of taking Notice what is meant by the persons of Eurus and Zephyrus , nor that of Neptune , who speaks to them .

We have one instance of the Moral Deities in the Engagement of Turnus with Aeneas . The Furies which Jupiter sends against Turnus , are nothing else but the Reproaches of his Conscience , which shew him his Crimes and Impiety : King Latinus foretold him of this at the very beginning of the War , giving him to understand , that if he was so insolent as to despise the Gods , when 't was at his choice not to oppose their Orders , he would at last be oblig'd , when too late , to one that he had offended , and they were Powerful . The Roman Orator plainly confirms the truth of this Interpretation . * * Nolite putare ut in scena videtis , homines consceleratos impulsu Deorum terreri , furiarum taedis ardentibus sua quemque fraus , suum Scelus , sua audacia de sanitate & mente deturbat . Hae sunt impiorum furiae , hae flammae , hae faces . Never think ( says he in his Speech before the Senate against Piso ) never think , Gentlemen , that thé Gods send the Furies with their burning Torches to frighten Criminals , as Poets upon the Theatre represent them . No : The Injustice , the Villainy , and the Crimes of each Miscreant , are his Tormenters . These are the Furies , the Fires , and the Flames , that make them faint away , and fill them with such Horrour and Amazement . 'T is thus that Turnus is represented in his last Battle . † † Dii me terrent , & Jupiter hostis . Nec se cognovit euntem : Scelerumque in pectore Dirae . Statius . Statius has likewise in few Words very well expressed the Nature of these dismal Deities : Which are no where but within our own breasts , there tormenting us by the view of the Crimes we have committed .

There are two things observable in the Practice of Virgil that confirm this Doctrine . The first is , that these Furies are never sent but against such as merit them : They are the only persons that are terrified by them . The second thing is , that those to whom they are sent , must necessarily own there is such a Being as a God , that takes Vengeance upon the Criminal : For Atheists , that acknowledge no God , are not liable to the Checks of Conscience ; nor are they used to be troubled at the Offences they commit against the Deity ; nor can they be supposed to be daunted with the apprehension of another Life . So that the Furies have nothing to do with them . This is the Reason why the Poet employs none against Mezentius , although much more Criminal than Turnus .

CHAP. II. Of the Manners of the Gods .

HOMER and the Ancient Poets have bestowed upon their Gods the Manners , the Passions , and the Vices of Men ; and some are bold to add , that they have given them such Manners as turn them into meer Swine . But if we would interpret what they have said about them , according to the Division I have proposed , and by the Allegories that are necessarily to be understood of them , we shall see that these Reproaches have often more of shew than solidity in them .

T is true , the Learned men of Antiquity have went upon wrong grounds in a thing of the highest importance , when their Writings have been such , that ordinary Capacities or Men of a shallow Reach , that is almost all Men , have not been able to break the Shell , and look through the Veil , with which they have covered the Truth ; and they have been miserably abused in taking the shadow for the substance , and deformed and dangerous Figures for necessary and solid Truths . Whether it proceeded from Pride , Envy , Error , or a bad Conduct , 't is doubtless a great Fault , and such as we can by no means excuse . But in our design , we may omit , and pass over such Interpretations as a Poet is not obliged to give in his Verses , and we may only consider the Poems , as Works and Instructions that should be all Allegorical .

In this sense , 't is much easier to defend than accuse Homer ; and more just to praise than blame him . One can find no fault with him for having made mention of many Gods , nor for his bestowing Passions on them , as we hinted in speaking of Juno and Venus . He might likewise bring them in fighting against Men. For have we not examples of these Expressions and Figures in Sacred Writ , and the true Religion ? And if 't is sometimes allowable to speak thus of the Gods in Theology , there is a great deal more Reason for doing so in the Fictions of Natural and Moral Philosophy .

When in these two sorts of Learning we describe the Nature of things ; 't is as easie to describe their Defects , as the contrary . It would argue a Man's being a Novice in Poetry , and that he understood but little of the way of Expression is this sort of Writing , did he imagine , when he sees the Name of a God or Goddess , that he must needs meet with nothing , but what is fine , good , and commendable in these Personages . As if Virgil could not have said of Fame , that she is a very foul-mouth'd Goddess ; nor of Sleep , that this God was ill-natur'd , when he deceiv'd good Palinurus , and tumbled him over-board . 'T is no more a Solecism to speak thus in Verse , than 't is to say in Prose , that Fame publishes very shameful things ; and that Palinurus was asleep and fell over-board .

'T is true we meet with more offensive Passages , such as the Adultery of Venus and Mars in the Odysseïs . But beside , the Physical and Moral Allegories , which may in some sort excuse these too bold Figures , to say no worse of them ; and besides , that we meet with something very like it , written in the simplicity of these Ancient times by Authors , which we cannot condemn , I add further , that though there were no Allegory , yet Homer is not less excusable . And to make this out , 't is to be consider'd , that 't is neither the Poet , nor his Hero , nor any other person of Probity that makes this Recital : but the Phaeacans , a Soft , Effeminate People , sing it amidst their Festival . Now 't is always allowable in a Poem , and in other grave and Moral writings , to introduce . Vicious persons , who despise the Gods , profane sacred things , and seek in that which is most Holy for excuses and examples to countenance their disorders . Homer then by the example of these idle People , who could do nothing but Sing , Dance , Eat and Drink , gives us this Lesson , That these soft and lazy Exercises are the source of all Vicious pleasures ; and that the persons , who live thus are usually pleased to hear these shameful Tales , and to make the Gods themselves partners in their Goatishness . Horace learned this Maxim by these Words of Homer , as well as by the disorders of his times ; when he says , That a Girl that learns to Dance betimes , learns betimes likewise to play the Whore . So likewise , we may suppose that Horace says of this Place of the Odysseïs , as much as of any other , that this Poem is an excellent piece of Philosophy , whereby we may learn to be Men of Vertue and Probity , and to avoid all that is base and vicious . From whence we may conclude , that the Recital of Homer we are speaking of , is not so much a pernicious Example of Adultery and Impiety , as 't is a very useful Lesson , which he gives to those that would live well ; namely , That if they would not be guilty of these Crimes , they must fly the Arts and Methods that lead thither .

But in short , a Poet had need be very cautious of medling with such dangerous Incidents as these are , if he would not do more hurt than good by his Poems . He should study the Wants , the Interest , the Humour of his Auditors , and the Effects which such Subjects may have upon their Minds . And to speak truth , we live no longer in an Age wherein simplicity might render such a subject tolerable among honest Men : And wherein one might propose it without corrupting the better part of the Audience , and without countenancing that Corruption and Vice which the rest are but too much inclined to . So that how Judicious or excuseable soever Homer has been in this Invention ; yet a Poet now-a-days would be neither Judicious nor Excusable , if he should venture to Imitate him therein . It is good to teach what he taught : But 't is very bad teaching it his way .

However things are , yet this is a particular Case , which should not hinder us from concluding , That Vertue and Goodness do no more belong to the Manners and Character of the Poetical Gods , than to the Manners and Character of Men.

If a Poet speaks of the Gods in Natural Philosophy , he will give them such Manners , Speeches and Actions , as are conformable to the Nature of the things they would represent under these Divine Persons . He will say , that the God of Sleep is Good , Bad , True , a Cheat , &c. Because we have pleasant Dreams , and we have offensive ones , sometimes they instruct us , sometimes deceive us , very often are vain , &c.

The case is the same in Moral Deities . Minerva is Wise because she represents Prudence . Venus is both Good and Bad , because the Passion we enjoy under her Name is capable of these two opposite Qualities .

Theology likewise has its Variety . The most sound part of it should say nothing of the Gods but what is good : * * Domine , ne in furore tuo arguas me ; neque in ira tua corripias me . Psal. 6. But it may likewise attribute several passions to them , such as Anger , Revenge , Sorrow , &c. Not that they have any such in reality , but only in condescension and after the language of Men they are said to have such , as we hinted before in speaking of Virgil's Juno and Venus . But there are several Sects , and a Poet should take care who those are that he brings in speaking . For an Epicurean , for instance , cannot give any Passion to the Gods . His Theology teaches him that they enjoy a perfect Repose , and do not so much as concern themselves with any of the Affairs of Mankind .

We might likewise add that the Passions and the Vices of each person form to him his particular Theology . The debauch'd Pagans thought the Gods could not be happy without enjoying the Pleasures of Sense . And they charg'd upon them their Lasciviousness , as we before observ'd in the Example of the Phaeacans . There are others who think there is no God at all : Or at least would perswade themselves that he does not regard us . Virgil has given us an Instance of this deplorable change in the person of Dido . This Princess at first entertains Aeneas with Vows and Prayers which she puts up to the Gods with a sincere Piety . Because then she was Innocent and at Quiet . She begins to love Aeneas contrary to the Vow she had made to the Manes of her first Husband ; which to her was a kind of Deity . She begins at the same time to suppose that these * * Id cinerem , aut Manes credis curare sepultos ? Scilicet is superis labor est , ea cura quietos Sollicitat . Aen. 4. Manes are no longer concerned about her , and lay no Obligation upon her to keep her Vow . Last of all , being more corrupted , she becomes guilty of Impiety against the Gods : And seeing that Aeneas was about to leave her by their Order , she would perswade him , that they are Ignorant of what is done here on Earth . Not that she was really and absolutely perswaded of so impious a Maxim : The Poet was too judicious to make so great and so strange an alteration in the Manners of this Queen , in so short a time . 'T is her Passion that makes her speak thus . But still 't is true to affirm that these Words are not absolutely jargon in her Mouth , but have some foundation in her Heart . This therefore is a Beginning of Impiety , which naturally happens to those , whose Vices and Passions are Violent , and which at last leads them into downright Atheism . Atheists speak neither well nor ill of the Gods . They despise this belief , and laugh at those who adore and worship them . Such a one is Virgil's Mezentius .

All that we have said here concerning the Manners of the Gods , ought to be applied to that which we have said concerning the Morals or Manners of Men. The Manners of the Gods are capable of the four Qualifications which we have given to the Others . They may be Poetically Good , since they may appear in the Speeches and Actions of the Divine Persons we introduce . They will be suitable , if we give to these persons such Manners , as the Nature of the things we represent require : And if , as we make a King Magnificent and Jealous of his Authority , so we make Fame to be a lying and malignant Goddess . They will be Likely , if we speak of Venus , Mercury , &c. Conformable to that which is reported of them in Fable , and which the first Poets have invented about them . And they will be Even or Equal , if in a long series we see the same Character maintain'd .

CHAP. III. How the Gods act in a Poem .

SINCE among the Gods , there are some Good , some Bad , and some between both ; and since of our very Passions we may make so many Allegorical Deities : To the Gods one may attribute all the Good or ; Ill that is done in a Poem . But these Deities do not always act , after the same manner . Sometimes they act invisibly , and by meer Inspirations ; and this has nothing in it extraordinary or miraculous . This is no more than what we say every day , That God has assisted us upon such or such an Occasion , or that the Devil has inspir'd a bad Action into this or that Man . 'T is thus that * * Juno virés animumque ministrat . Aen. 9. Juno helps Turnus in the Ninth Book of the Aeneid , when he was engaged in the Trojan Camp ; and thus † † Hic mentem Aeneae genitrix pulcherrima misit , Iret ut ad muros . Aen. 12. Venus in the Twelfth Book inspires Aeneas , and puts him upon Assaulting the Town of the Latins , that so Turnus might be forced to the Combat , which he industriously avoided . The Poet may make the Gods act thus , even among Atheists : For though these Impious wretches acknowledge no God , yet they cannot withdraw themselves from his Power . He disposes of them as he thinks fit , and without their perceiving it , can turn their thoughts and designs as he pleases . This is Virgil's practice in the person of Mezentius . * * At Jovis interea monitis Mezentius ardens Succedit pugnae . Aen. 10. 'T is Jupiter , who , minded at last to punish him for all his Crimes , engages him in a fight with Aeneas . To this way of the God's Acting we might likewise refer , that which they insensibly contributed to an Action , for which they are thank'd . The God Mars does not appear at all in the fight of the Tenth Book of the Aeneid : Yet Aeneas owns he was obliged to him therein : † † Tibi magne Trophaeum Bellipotens . Aen. 11. And to him dedicates the Trophy which he raised of the Arms of Mezentius . These Divine Actions are simple and deserve not the Name of Machine . And they are such as are allowable in the most exact Tragedies and Comedies .

The other way whereby the Gods Act is altogether Miraculous and Extraordinary ; and this , whether they present themselves Visibly , and make themselves known to Men , as when * * Ipse Deum manifesto in lumine vidi Intrantera muros , vocemque his auribus haufi . Mercury discovered himself to Aeneas in the Fourth Book : Or whether they disguise themselves under some human Shape , without making themselves known , as when † † Inscia Dido , Infideat quantus miserae Deus . Aen. 1. Cupid under the Form of Ascanius makes Dido sensible of his Power , who Caresses him without knowing who he is ; or whether without any visible Appearance , they make us only sensible of their Power by some Miraculous Action , as Venus in the Twelfth Book , when she cures the wound of Aeneas . * * Neque te Aenea , mea dextera servat : Major agit Deus . Aen. 12. The Physician , who had it in hand acknowledges that the Cure is all Divine , and that he has no share in it . The Machines that are Prohibited in Dramatick Poems are of this second sort : No body cares for seeing Gods or Miracles upon the Stage .

There is likewise a third way that has something of both the other ; 't is indeed a Miracle , but yet has very frequently been refer'd to that way whereby the Gods act , which we mentioned first . This third comprehends the Oracles , Dreams , and extraordinary Inspirations . Virgil in his Third Book has instances of all this . Apollo utters an Oracle , the Gods interpret it to Aeneas in a Dream and the Divine Helenus informs him Poetically of very many things . The Speech of Sibyl to Aeneas , and all that she discovers to him of the Infernal Shades , and of his Posterity , is likewise nothing else but one of these Demi-Machines . We might to these add the Hell of the Odysseïs : which consists in nothing else but the Conjuring up the Ghost of Tiresias , and of several others that were his Attendants .

All these Ways must be probable : And though the Probability in Machines is of a very large Extent , since 't is founded upon Divine Power , yet it is not without some Limitations . We may apply to the Epopéa those that Horace prescribed to the Theatre . He proposes three sorts of Machines . The first is of those which we can , not only believe , but also endure the sight of : Such is a God present and visibly conversing with the Actors . * * Nec Deus intersit , niss dignus vindice nodus Inciderit . Hor. Poet. He does not absolutely forbid this ; but he admits it only in a Plot that requires an Actor of this Importance . † † Aut in avem Progne vertatur , Cadmus in anguem . The second sort comprehends such Machines as are more incredible and extraordinary : Such as the Metamorphosis of Progne into a Swallow , and of Cadmus into a Serpent . ‡ ‡ Non tamen intus Digna geri , promes in stenain , multaque tolles Ex oculis , quae mox nartet facundia praesns . Ibid. He does not wholly condemn this Machine , nor exclude it from the Poem ; but he banishes it the Stage , and the sight of the Spectators . * * Quodcunque ostendis mihi , sic incredulus odi . These sights , represented thus , are odious ; because a Man can never be perswaded , that he sees so strange a Metamorphosis . So that , 't is only allow'd to make a Recital of it . † † Nec quodcunque volet poscat sibi fabula credi : Neu pransae Lamiae vivum puerum extrahat alvo . Ibid. The third sort of Machines is altogether Absurd . Horace rejects it entirely . The Instance he proposes is of a Child drawn alive out of the Bowels of a Monster that had devour'd it .

This third sort is likewise to be banish'd the Epopéa , since there is no Recital that can make the Auditors believe it . The two others are equally allowable , and without the Distinction which Horace makes , which is only of Use for the Theatre : Because , 't is only in Dramatick Poems , that there is any difference to be made between that which is acted upon the Stage in view of the Audience , and that which is done behind the Scenes , which afterwards is Recited . Our two Poets have instances of these two sorts of Allowable and Probable Machines . All sorts of Deities speak often in the Epopéa , and are no less the Personages thereof than Men are , among whom they are often mix'd . Therein are likewise rehearsed several Metamorphoses , as that of Vlysses's Fleet into a Rock , and that of Aeneas's Fleet into as many Nymphs as there were Ships .

'T is true these Metamorphoses are very rare , because they are a great deal less Credible than the rest . This shews that one must suit one's self to the Gust of the Audience in this sort of Probability . That which was allowable in the Ages Homer and Virgil liv'd in may be less regular in other times .

This puts me upon making a Reflection on the Method of making use of those Machines probably , that are not of themselves Probable enough . The Machines which only require Divine Probability ( as that for instance which we have been discoursing of ) should be so disengaged from the Action of the Poem , that one may substract them from it , without destroying the Action . But those that are necessary , and which make the Essential parts of it , should be grounded upon human Probability , and not on the sole Power of God . Now the Episodes of Circe , the Syrens , Polypheme , and the like are necessary to the Action of the Odysseïs , and yet they are not humanly Probable . Homer artificially brings them under the Human Probability , by the simplicity of those before whom he causes these fabulous Recitals to be made . He says very pleasantly , * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 . Odyss. lib. 6. That the Phaeacans liv'd in an Island at distance from those Countries where men of a Genius dwelt . Vlysses knew them before he made himself known to them ; and having observ'd that they were simple and credulous , and that they had all the Qualities of those lazy People , that admire nothing so much as to hear of Romantick Adventures : He pleased them by these Recitals that are suited to their own humour . But even here the Poet is not unmindful of his more understanding Readers . He has in these Fables given them all the Pleasure that can be reap'd from Moral Truths , so pleasantly disguised under these Miraculous Allegories . 'T is by this Means that he has reduced these Machines to Truth and a Poetical Probability .

Virgil likewise relates somes of these Fables . He does not allow himself the same Pretence ; he has others to fly to : One of the principal is , that he is not the Author of them . He relates them after Homer , whose Authority had already establish'd them : So that he had less measures to take .

CHAP. IV. When one must make use of Machines .

THIS Question is easily resolved by the Practice of our Poets . We may in short affirm , that Machines are to be made use of all over , since Homer and Virgil do nothing without them , They constantly put their Gods upon duty . * * Non enim res gestae versibus comprehendendae sunt , quod longe melius Historici faciunt : Sed per , ambages Deorumque ministeria , & fabulosum sententiarum tormentum precipitandus est liber Spiritus ; ut potius furentis animi vaticinatio appareat , quam religiosae orationis sub testibus fides . Petronius with his usual Vehemency orders that it should be thus . He would have his Poet converse less with Men than with the Gods : Leave throughout some signs of his prophetical Transports , and of the Divine Fury that swells him : He would have his thoughts be full of Fables , that is of those Allegories and ingenious Figures , which , like Aenigma's , put the invention of the Readers upon a pleasing Rack , and leave them to guess in their turns what the Poet himself has written like a Prophet . Lastly , he would have a Poem be distinguished from History in all its parts , not only by the Numbers , but by this Poetical fury , which expresses it self only by Allegories , and does nothing but by the Assistance of the Gods .

He therefore that would be a Poet , must leave Historians to write , that a Fleet was shattered by a Storm , and cast upon a strange Coast : And must say with Virgil , That Juno went to Aeolus , and that this God upon her instance unkennel'd the Winds against Aeneas . Let him learn an Historian to write , That a Young Prince behaved himself upon all occasions , with a great deal of Wisdom and Discretion : And let him say with Homer , that Minerva led him by the hand in all his Enterprises . Let an Historian relate , that though Agamemnon fell out with Achilles , yet he could not but acknowledge that he stood in need of his Assistance for the taking of Troy : And let a Poet say , that Thetis , disgusted at the affront offered to her Son , goes up to Heaven , demands satisfaction of Jupiter ; and that this God , to satisfie her , sends the God of Sleep to Agamemnon , who puts the Cheat upon him by making him believe he must take Troy that very day .

Plutarch , Livy , and other Authors of the Roman History , will tell us , that he who prescribed Laws to the Romans , shut himself up in a Wood , and feigned that a Nymph dictated such Laws to him , as afterwards he should propose to his Subjects . A Poet will say , That Aeneas being alone with Sibyl of Cumae in the Forest of Averna , she makes him go down to the Infernal Shades , and there see the Rewards of good , and the Punishments of bad Actions ; and that the Manes of Anchises informed him what sort of Genius he should inspire that State with , which he was going to establish in Italy . And if we would Poetically reduce this Fiction into the Probability of History ; let us not like an Historian say , that as Numa feigned he had Conferences with Egeria , so Aeneas feigns that Sibyl made him see in a Dream all that we read of in the Sixth Book : But let us say that this Hero was let out of Hell by that Gate which was appointed for the sending out of False Dreams .

'T is thus that our Poets make use of Machines in all the parts of their Works . We might take a more particular View of them , if we would but examine all the Parts of the Poem and the Narration . The Proposition in each of our three Poems makes mention of the Gods ; the Invocation is addressed to them , and the Narration is full of them . The Gods are the Causes of the Actions . They make the Plots , and dispose the Solution of them too . This is so plain that it needs no farther proof . I will insist only on the Vnravelling of the Plots , which we may look upon as that part of the Poem , which is the most Important in this Point , especially if we consider that Aristotle and Horace have treated of Machines more expresly in this , than in any other part of the Poem .

* * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Arist. Poet. 2. 15. Aristotle speaking of Tragedy tells us , That the Solution of the Fable should proceed from the Fable it self , and not from any Machine , as in the Medea . Horace seems less severe . He only says , That the Gods should not appear , but when the Dignity of the Plot requires their Presence . But this is only designed for the Theatre . This is observable by the Consequence of these Quotations . If Aristotle had intended in this to speak of the Epopéa he should have produced for his Instances the Vnravelling of the Iliad , and that of the Odysseïs , in both of which the Gods are concerned . Minerva fights close to Vlysses against the Gallants of Penelope ; she helps him to kill them , and on the morrow claps up a Peace between Vlysses and the Ithacans , and so concludes the Odysseïs . In the Iliad , the Gods meet to appease the Anger of Achilles , and Jupiter sends Iris , Thetis and Mercury on this Errand . Minerva likewise helps Achilles in his last fight with Hector . She stops Hector that fled from him , and when both had cast their Javelins at each other without doing the least hurt , the Goddess takes up the Lance of Achilles , and gives it him , whilst Hector is upon unequal terms , arm'd only with his Sword . Virgil has imitated these Examples . Aeneas as well as Achilles is clad in Divine Armour . Juturna gives Turnus his Sword agen , and Venus helps Aeneas to his Spear : And at last Jupiter sends a Fury , which drives away Juturna , and frightens Turnus so , that he scarce knew where he was , nor what he did in this last Battle .

CHAP. V. How the Machines are to be us'd .

THe Use of the Machines in the Epopéa is quite contrary to that which Horace prescribes for the Theatre . This Critick would not have them be made use of in Tragedy , but when needs must : And on the contrary , 't is requisite that an Epick Poet should not make use of them , but when they might be let alone , and then he should order them so , that his Action stand in no need of them . How many Gods and Machines does Virgil make use of to raise the storm , which casts Aeneas upon Carthage ? And yet this does not hinder but that this miraculous Action may be look'd upon as the ordinary Effect of a meer natural Cause . * * Cum subito assurgens fluctu nimbosus Orion I● vada caeca tulit . Aen. 1. He makes one of his Personages say that the Cause of this Storm , which surpriz'd the Trojans , is the Rising of the blustring Constellation of Orion . Upon this the † † Et sciendum quod Dii nisi datâ occasione nocere non possunt . Commentators have very well observ'd ; that the Poetical Gods can do no harm , unless they have some favourable oportunity of doing it . 'T is never to be suppos'd that there are any storms during the Halcyonian days . This would be an affront to the Power of the Gods , by ascribing to them such a force as contradicts Poetical Probability . So that , thô beside this short season , there is scarce any part of the Year , but when very probably and without a Miracle one might be toss'd about with a Storm ; yet Virgil raises his Storms only in a season that is more particularly subject to them . The four we read of in the Aeneid , do all happen during the Rising of Orion . The first casts Aeneas upon Carthage ; The second surprizes him a hunting with Dido ; The third obliges him to put into Sicily , where he Celebrates the Anniversary of Anchises ; and the fourth closes the fine Day he had chose for the Sports , and quenches the fire that burnt his Fleet. The Poet informs us that all these Storms which surpriz'd Aeneas , were the effects of one and the same Cause . * * Quin etiam Hyberno moliris sidere classem Expecta facilemque fugam , ventosque ferentes . Aen. 4. For Dido chides Aeneas for preparing to leave her , whilst this dangerous Constellation had still an inuflence o'er the Sea ; and she conjures him ( th ô in vain ) to stay till this bad season was over .

According to this Practice , a Poet will be very cautious how he makes use of a Machine to help him out of a difficulty , wherein his own unskilfulness has cast him . But he will call in the assistance of the Gods to honour his Poem and Hero , and no one will object against him , that 't is for want of Art and Invention , that he is oblig'd to implore the Aid of these supernatural Powers . No one will cast these Reproaches upon Virgil in the Examples we have cited , nor in his other Machines . It was not for want of Skill or Invention , that he had recourse to Juno and Neptune , either to raise a Storm upon the Fleet of Aeneas , or to lay it again . So likewise , a Woman stabb'd to the heart with a Ponyard , as Dido was , might very well die of the wound , without Iris's being sent by Juno to clip a lock of Hair off her Head . A Ship well mann'd , and near the Haven , might without any Miracle enter in before another that was farther off . 'T is therefore without any necessity that the Poet makes use of the Gods therein , and says that Mnestheus would have gain'd the prize perhaps , had not Cloanthes put up so many vows , and had not so many Sea-Gods that heard him , lent him a helping hand .

Virgil makes use of several ways , from whence one may discover there was necessity for Machines . Sometimes the thing , that is done by a God , is necessary , but it might as well have been done by a Mortal . Aeneas should be inform'd of what had happen'd to Dido : But there was no need that Venus should disguise her self under the shape of a Tyrrhenian Damsel , that was hunting in a Wood. A mere Damsel might have inform'd him : And 't is thus that we ought to interpret the Changes of the Gods into Men. These are the ways whereby Poets express themselves . An Historian would say that Beroe excited the other Trojan Dames to fire their Fleet : And a Poet says , that Iris , sent express by Juno , takes upon her the shape of Beroe .

Sometimes the Action ascrib'd to a Deity cannot be done by a mere Man : But then this Action shall not be at all necessary . A mere Mortal cannot transform the Ships of Aeneas into Nymphs . But then whether they are thus transform'd , or whether they are destroy'd by fire , still they are lost . Nor can any one see what alteration one of these two Incidents would have caus'd in the Affairs of Aeneas more than the other .

I have already mention'd the Infernal Shades of the sixth Book , the Fury that was sent by Jupiter to Turnus , and several other .

We may therefore conclude that a Machine in the Epick Poem is not an Invention to wind ones self out of any Difficulty , that is intricate , affected , and proper to some parts of the Poem : But that 't is the Presence of a Deity , and some supernatural , extraordinary Action , which the Poet inserts into almost all the Incidents of his Work , to make it look more Majestical and surprizing , and to give his Readers a Lesson of Piety and Vertue . This mixture should be so made , that one might retrench the Machines without cutting off any thing from the Action .

CHAP. VI. Whether the Presence of the Gods is any Disparagement to the Heroes .

THE care of our Poets in making the Actions and Designs of their Hero's to succeed by the assistance of the Gods , puts me upon adding the following Reflections to what has been already said . One would think there was no question to be made whether the Love and favour of God were an honour or a Disparagement to those he thus Loves and Favours . And yet , we suffer our selves to be so far prepossess'd with sensible and ordinary things , that we become liable to more extravagant thoughts . We judge of the Justice , the Favours , and ( if I may so say ) of the Duties of God ; just as we do of the Justice , the Favours , and the Duties of Men. In a fight between Two persons , if a Third steps in , and assists one of them to kill the other , we blame that third person , and with him condemn his friend , who was so much a Coward as to stand in need of Succour , to protect them both from disgrace . These thoughts are proper , and this Indignation just . But Men treat God after the same Manner . Jupiter , say they , should not have assisted Aeneas . Was not this Hero brave enough to fight Turnus alone , and valiant enough to Conquer him ? Where is there any need then of this foreign Assistance ? Does it not reflect upon the Hero and the God too ? And would Turnus have done less , had he had the same Advantage ? This is their way of arguing : from whence it must be inferr'd , that the Love and Favour of God will serve only to make those , that he would assist , and , and that venture to make use of that Assistance , appear Weak , Impotent , Cowardly , and not worthy of being Conquerors : One should thereupon never pray to him nor thank him for any happy success . And by this means the Character of Mezentius will be the Character of a perfect Hero , and of a truly valiant Man . This Bravo is not for having his Glory eclipsed by the Assistance of any Deity : His Sword and his Arm are the only Gods he acknowledges and invokes . He vows a Trophy to his Victory ; but this vow is only addressed to his Son Lausus , whom he designs to adorn with the spoils of vanquish'd Aeneas . These are the Prayers he makes for his Victory , and these the Thanks givings he designs to make . And these are likewise the Heroes those Men would make , who find fault with Jupiter and Minerva for having bestowed the Victory on Aeneas , Achilles , and Vlysses .

'T is true , it would reflect upon an Hero , if himself did nothing ; if the Hope and the Confidence he plac'd in the Promises and Favour of God rendring him more negligent , he should wait for the effect with his hands in his bosom ; or else , if exposing his Weakness and his little Valour , and being just upon the point of yielding , he ow'd his preservation and his Victory only to Gods and Miracles . But the Practice of our Poets removes this inconveniency , and we have fully satisfied the World as to this point , when we observ'd , that the presence and the Action of the Gods should be so order'd , that one might retrench ev'ry thing that was extraordinary and Miraculous , without making any alteration in the Action of the Humane Personages . By this means the Epopéa will be neither a School of Impiety and Atheism , nor of Idleness and Sloth . But Men will there learn to adore God , and acknowledge him as the Only and Necessary Principle of all the Good that can be done , and without whom the most puissant Princes , and she most accomplished Heroes cannot succeed in any of their Designs . 'T is he that inspires Men with good Designs , gives them Courage to undertake them , and power to execute them . Men will learn to respect , and submit to him ; because this Submission and Humility , which makes even Great Men stoop to their God , is the Cause and the Occasion of their being elevated above the rest of Mankind . They will learn to fear him , by considering the Misfortunes those Men bring upon themselves , who abandon him : And because when our Passions have shut our Eyes and stop'd our Ears to his Orders and Instructions , we are too slow in apprehending what a dreadful thing it is to make him our Enemy . They will put an entire confidence in his Words and Promises : But withal knowing that they suppose one shall merit the effects of them by using ones utmost endeavours , an Hero will so behave himself in all his Actions , as if he ought to gain the success alone without the assistance of the Deity : Because , as the Ancients say , the Gods do not absolutely give us what they seem to give us , but they sell it at the price of our Labours .

But if on one hand God be the Author of all the good we do ; 't is true likewise to say that 't is our selves that really do , whatever God does in and by us : And since these Actions which God inspires into us , procures for us , and for which he gives us all the Courage and Strength that is necessary , are truly and properly our own Actions ; it follows that the more God helps and favours us , the more Glory and Honour he does us . And this is the difference that is between the Assistance of God and that of Men. The Actions of Men belong only to those that do them : So that their Aid diminishes our Glory , as much as the Divine Assistance heightens it . Our Poets inform us thus much , and Achilles who was so jeálous of his Honour , knows well enough how to make the Distinction we have here proposed . He was too high spirited to admit of the least assistance which might lessen his Glory : He charges the Grecians to keep off from Hector , whom he pursues . But when Minerva offers to assist him in this pursuit , and to help to conquer and kill him , he was so far from rejecting this Divine Aid , that he thinks it an honour to him , and brags of it ev'n to Hector himself .

Monsieur Cornoüille will allow me to end this point with what he has said about it in his Andromeda : Phineus casts the same Reflections upon his Rival Perseus , as one might upon Aeneas . But he is young , passionate and impious , and has the Character of Mezentius , * * J'en jure par ses yeux , & mes uniques Rois , & mes uniques Dieux . in that he acknowledges no other Gods but the Eyes of Andromeda ; so that he is very fit to act that part . Queen Cassiopea makes the Answer to him . PHINEUS . WHAT has he done , that 's worthy to be prais'd , But what another might , if Jove had pleas'd ? Let him be arm'd like us , what Enterprize Dare he then undertake , all Hero as he is ? Ten thousand might have been than him more Brave Had Heav'n but deign'd to help them like this Slave : They would have been more generous and great , The Monster slain , the Danger at their feet . 'T is easie vent'ring , when the fear is o'er , To fight a Foe , that can offend no more ; To sieze the certain Conquest , when 't is won : And this is all th' Exploit that He has done . Now what Reward , what Praise , I can't conceive , So mean a Conquest merits to receive . CASSIOPEA . WHAT Merit 's praise , you scorn : A blindness this None can conceive . — Heav'n than our selves knows better what we are ; As men deserve , so they its Favours share . You might have had as great an Aid Divine , Had Jove but seen , like his , your Vertues shine . But these are special Favours , plac'd on high Which vulgar Souls can ne'er expect to see . The Gods , being just , reserve this special grace Only for noble Souls , and for the Heav'n-born Race .

The End of the Fifth Book .

Monsieur Bossu's Treatise OF THE EPICK POEM . BOOK VI. Concerning the Thoughts and the Expression .

CHAP. I. The Foundation of this Doctrine .

THE Doctrine of the Thoughts and that of the Expression stand upon the same Foundation . Both This and That is nothing else but the Art of imprinting on our Auditors such Ideas as we would have them receive . It seems as if this Notion belonged rather to the Expressions than the Thoughts ; since the Thoughts being nothing else but Ideas , one would imagine that if they were well Expressed , that would be sufficient to imprint them on the minds of the Hearers . But you will see that this is not enough , if you reflect , that there is a great deal of difference between making any one comprehend what we think and have a mind to , and the inspiring into him the same Inclimations , and the same Thoughts . A good Expression is enough for the first . But it often happens , that if I would give another the same Inclinations , which I have my self , I shall succeed better , if I express quite contrary Thoughts , than if I clearly discovered the Ideas of my mind , and my real Thoughts . If we pretend an Esteem and Friendship for any one in the presence of a jealous and envious Rival , we shall not make him conceive any of those good Thoughts for him ; but , on the contrary , we shall render the person , in whose behalf we speak , odious and contemptible to him . Figurative speeches may likewise furnish us with Instances of this Nature . We express not our precise Thought in an Hyperbole , we say a great deal more of a thing , than we conceive of it , and more than we would have others conceive of it ; and the Irony does the contrary .

Therefore this part of Elocution we are speaking of , does not consist in Expressing ones Ideas , or in making others apprehend the Ideas we propose ; but in proposing such Ideas as may imprint those that we would have imprinted , let them be the same with those we propose , or the contrary , or any other . So that three things are expedient for this purpose . First , to have a right conception of the Idea we would imprint on the minds of the Auditors : It must be pure and disengage'd from all those that may prejudice our design . Secondly , to know what Thoughts are most proper to imprint this Idea , by considering the present Humour , Interest , and Disposition of our Audience . And thirdly , to make a good Choice of such Expressions as are most proper and suitable .

That which is most commonly prejudicial to the first of these , namely to the Purity of the Ideas , is , that beside each particular Idea which we Imagine , there is likewise a general Idea , which seldom fails mixing with almost all the rest : 'T is that Idea which we conceive of our selves , and which we would fain represent as great , fine , excellent , and in a word such as we our selves conceive it . This is evident , especially in that kind of Oration which the Rhetoricians have stil'd the Demonstrative . It seems as if an Orator in such an Harangue speaks more to entertain us with a vast Idea of himself than of his Hero : And when we go away from hearing the Panegyrick of any Saint or person of Quality ; 't is seldom that we praise or dispraise either the One or the Other of them upon the account of what the Orator has said : But we only cry , That this Orator has an Eloquent Tongue , or that he is but so , so : As if we went to hear his Speech , only to pass a Judgment upon his , not the Hero's person . The two other kinds of Oratorical Discourses are not wholly free from this Vice . Some are so vain , as to attempt it upon all occasions , and at ev'ry turn . They are full of this vast Idea of themselves , that they cannot keep it in , but out it must come , spread every where , and like a Deluge overflow all the Judgment , and little Sense they have . We can produce instances enow , even in the Juridical Kind , though that is more confin'd than the other two .

Besides , did these Persons understand wherein a true praise does consist , and were they Masters of the second quality we requir'd , which is , to know what Thoughts and Sentiments a Man should propose in order to raise a great Idea of himself in the minds of those that hear him ; they would then correct this first default , they would speak correctly , and say nothing but what was of Consequence and to the Purpose . But since their first Error proceeds from a Defect in judgment , it cannot be alone . They imagine that the true esteem of an Orator or a Poet consists chiefly in fine Thoughts , in strong and lofty Expressions , in passions carry'd on to an extream , or in other such like things , which in truth belong not to Eloquence , and sometimes produce effects quite contrary to the design of an unjudicious Author .

A Lawyer , for instance , will Imagine that his Esteem depends upon making a set Speech , adorn'd with figures , and full of a great many pretty Antitheses : He will be sure to heap figure upon figure in his pleading : And chuse rather to enervate a good Argument , and lose his Cause by an unpardonable flight , than not give his Antitheses all the Embellishments he judges they are capable of . This is what Pedius did according to Persius's account of him . * * Fures , ait Pedio . Pedius quid ? Crimina rasae Librat in Antithetis . Doctus posuisse figuras Laudatur . Pers. Sat. 1. Theft ( says th' Accuser ) to thy charge I lay , O Pedius ! What does gentle Pedius say ? Studious to please the Genius of the Times , With Periods , Points , and Tropes , he slurs his Crimes . [ English'd thus by Mr. Dryden . ]

Martial's Posthumus was troubled with another kind of whim . He had a vast esteem for the Knowledge of History , and thought this Science must needs make him pass for a very Learned Man . He therefore soon quits his Subject to declaim against Hannibal , and Mithridates , and to plead the Romans Cause : As if the Matter in debate were concerning their being Conquerors of the World , whereas in truth the Controversie was only about three kids . It was not sufficient to inform this Pleader of the Process of his Cause , and of the business on foot ; 't was likewise requisite he should be inform'd of what he was to have no hand in . * * Non devi , neque caede , nec veneno ; Sed lis est mihi de tribus Capellis . 〈◊〉〈◊〉 has abesse 〈◊〉 . Hoc Judeae sibi postulat probarl . Tu Cannas , Mithridaticumque bellum , Et perjaria Punici furoris , & Syllas , Mariosque Muci●sque Magnâ voce tonas , manuque tota : Jam dic , Posthume , de tribus Capellis . Mat. Lib. 6. Epig. 19. With Poisinings , Murders , Rapes we 've nought to do ; The Judge impatiently expects that you Should prove how contrary no Roman Laws My Neighbour stole my Kids : For that 's the Cause . But you with strech'd-out hands and clamorous Bawl Thunder the Punick War around the Hall ; Who fought with Mithiri●lates ; how much Blood Was spilt at Cannae ; how that Sylla stood Competitor with Marius , sought his doom ; And how bold Soaevola protected Rome : Enough of this . — Now , prithee , Lawyer tell What sad mishap to my three Kids befell .

The more Vanity any Man has , the more subject he is to these Vices . Therefore Poete should be more upon their Guards , than Orators . The Composures of the last are only to be spoken , and to establish for their Authors a present Fame . But a Poet has Immortality so much in his Thoughts , that he fansies he has enough and to spare on 't ; and promises it with so much Confidence to others , as if his own where indisputable , and as if all his Enemies were destroy'd to the very last Rat and Butter-Wife . These Poets will stuff a Poem with Descriptions either ill plac'd , or ill manag'd , with affected and useless Figures , with forc'd and insipid Sentences , with Similes more fine than just , and with other such like Ornaments : And by this means they destroy the Idea they ought to give of their Subject , by imprinting on their Readers minds nothing else but the Idea of their Knowledge , Eloquence , and fine Genius , because they forsooth fansie that the Politeness of a Genius , and the Honour of an Author consists in these things . They judge of the Ancients and Moderns according to these Ideas ; and suppose they have excell'd Homer and Virgil , and all other Poets , when ( without minding the Character , or any thing else that is peculiar and proper to each Poem ) they have heap'd up in that , which they compose , whatever appear'd beautiful in all the rest ; and when they have transplanted these pretended Beauties with as little skill , as if the Nose or the Lips of an handsom person , had the same Comeliness upon all sorts of Faces , without any distinction of Age , Sex , or Proportion .

This was not Virgil's Opinion , when he imitated the Greek Poet. He has given another sort of Character to his Aeneid ; and he well observ'd , that this oblig'd him to give the things he borrow'd , a quite different Turn . This made him say . That 't was harder to steal one Verse from Homer than to rob Hercules of his Club. This great Man had just and pure Ideas , and perfectly knew how to inspire his Audience with them , without quitting his design , to run after false lights , and glittering thoughts , by an indiscreet Vanity , more pardonable in the Rawness of a Scholar , than in the Maturity of a Master . Let us apply this to some general Thoughts .

CHAP. II. Concerning Descriptions .

DEscriptions are properly such Speeches as explain the parts and properties of some thing or other . This Term sometimes extends even to Actions : But that of a Recital or Narration is more proper to them , especially when these Recitals are of some Length , such as is that of the Tempest in the first Book of the Aeneid , the Sports of the Fifth , the Infernal shades of the next Book , the Battles of the Second part , with several Others which I was willing to comprehend under what I said concerning the Narration . They are too considerable to be mention'd here under the Name of Sentiments or simple Thoughts . The Descriptions we now speak of are only parts of these long Recitals . They therefore must be short ; and moreover , necessary and suited to the general Character of the Poem , and to the Particular Character of the Subject matter that is describ'd , as far as possible .

The Description of Carthage , which Virgil makes the Frontispiece of his Aeneid is contained in six Verses . It tells us that this City is seated over against Italy , facing the very mouth of Tiber ; that it is powerful in War , and that Juno had a mind to make it the seat of the Universal Monarchy . This is the Cause of the Anger of this Deity , and that which makes the Plot of the Poem .

The Readers would not have imagined how Aeolus could keep in and let loose the Winds as he thought fit , if they had not been informed , that they are inclosed in Caverns . The Poet spends twelve Verses upon it .

The Ships of Aeneas , so roughly handled by a Tempest , and at a Season , when the Sea was liable to frequent and unforeseen Storms , had need of an Harbour , that was free from this Danger , and very still ; and since it was in a strange and unknown Country , 't was requisite this Haven should be in a private and secret Place . This is what Virgil describes in Eleven Verses .

Venus presents her self to her Son , disguis'd like a Maid . The Poet is obliged to tell how this Maid happen'd to be in a wide Forest . He represents her in a hunting Habit. He is likewise obliged to reduce to Probability such an extraordinary thing as that of a Maid in Armour . A Description of seven lines does it compleatly .

Descriptions sometimes are mix'd with some Passion or another . In this case not only the Thread of the Discourse should make them very Natural ; but they should likewise be in some measure assisting to the Passions to which they are joyn'd . That fine Description of a Calm and quiet Night in the Fourth Book , renders the cruel Disturbances of Dido a great deal more moving , since they rob her of that Rest which all Nature enjoy'd , to the very vilest and most despicable Creatures . * * Nox erat , & placidum carpebant fefsa soporem Corpora per terras : Sylvaeque & saeva quierant Aequora : cum medio volvuntur sydera lapsu . Cum tacet omnis ager , pecudes pictaeque volucres , Quaeque Iacus late liquidos , quaeque aspera dumis Rura tenent : Somno positae sub nocte silenti Lenibant curas & corda oblita laborum . Et non infoelix animi Phaenissa , nec unquam Solvitur in somnos . 'T was Night , each weary Creature took its Ease ; Hush'd were the Woods , and silent were the Seas : Pois'd in their Height the Stars did seem to rest , Each Field was still , whilst ev'ry Bird and Beast , The Monsters of the Deep , the Savage Bears , Were laid to sleep , and dos'd away their Cares . Only unhappy Dido finds no rest , Poor Queen ! So tortur'd is her Love-sick braest !

If instead of this admirable Turn , † † At non infoelix . Only unhappy Dido , the Poet , carrying his Description farther , had said : ‡ ‡ Aeneas celsâ in puppi , jam certus eundi Carpebat Somnos rebus jam rite paratis . Whilst the Dardanian does securely rest In his Tall Ship for sudden flight prepar'd : Then the whole would have been cold and insipid .

The Description of the Trojans being hard at work , and eager to leave Carthage , is likewise extreamly well manag'd . On one hand it shews what good Effect the presence of a Lord and Master has ; for 't is the presence of Aeneas that hastens their Work : * * Classemque revisit . Tum vero Teucri incumbunt , & littore celsas Deducunt toto naves , natat uncta carina . Frondentesque ferunt remos , & robora sylvis Infabricata fugae Studio . Migrantes cernas , totâque ex urbe ruentes . Aen. 4. He does his Fleet without delay prepare . The Trojans ply the work the busie Main Is fill'd with noise , the Ships now float again . " Whole Oaks , the Leaves unstrip'd , for hast unwrought , " Down from the Wood for Oars and Masts they brought . On ev'ry side are seen descending down Long Troops which bring Provisions from the Town . [ English'd thus by Edm. Waller and Sidney Godolphin Esquires . ]

And on the other side the Consequence is such , that the Poet to expose this their Eagerness not so much to the Readers , as to D. View . She there saw the preparative of her Death ; and ev'ry blow the Ax and Hammer strook , went like so many stabs of a Dagger to her very Heart . Can any thing be more moving than the Ingenious application Virgil makes ? * * Quis tibi tunc , Dido , cernenti talia sensus ? Quosve dabas gemitus , cum littora ferrere late Prospiceres ex arce summa ? Ibid. What were thy Thoughts , sad Dido ! on that day ? How deep thy sighs ? When from thy Tower above Thou sawst the Phrygians in such order move , And heardst the tumult of the Clamorous Sea ? [ Englished thus by the same persons . ]

If in the middle of a great Action , any thing is describ'd , that seems to interrupt and distract the Reader 's mind ; 't is requisite that the Effect of these Descriptions declare the reason and necessity of them , and that by this means they be embody'd , if I may so say , in the Action . We have one instance of this in the Battle of the Eleventh Book of the Aeneid , where the Poet runs out into so curious a Description of the Arms and Dress of Chloreus . * * Forte facer Cybele Chloreus , olimque Sacerdos Insignis longe Phrygiis fulgebat in armis ; Spumantemque agitabat equum , quem pellis ahenis In plumam squamis auro conserta tegebat . Ipse peregrinâ ferrugine clarus & ostro , Spicula torquebat Lycio Cortynia cornu : Aureus ex humeris sonat arcus , & aurea vati Cassida , tum croceam chlamydemque sinusque crepantes Carbaseos fulvo in nodum collegerat auro . Pictus acu tunicas , & barbara tegmina crurum . Chloreus , the Priest of Cybele , did glare In Phrygian Arms remarkable afar . A foaming Steed he rode , whose hanches case , Like Feathers , Scales of mingled Gold and Brass . He clad in foreign Purple , gall'd the Foe With Cretan Arrows from a Lycian Bow . Gold was that Bow , and Gold his Helmet too : Gay were his upper Robes which loosly flew . Each Limb was cover'd o're with something Rare , And as he fought he Glistred every where . [ Englished thus by Mr. Stafford in Dryden' s Miscellanies . Part II. p. 491. ]

The Judicious Readers might perhaps have been disgusted at this Beauty so carefully described in the very heat of Battle , if the Poet had only made it for their sakes . But 't is not design'd so much for them as for Camilla . This Maid is so charmed at the sight of his Accoutrements , that she is wholly intent upon the Conquest of them . The desire of having them costs her her Life , gives the Victory to the Trojans , and breaks all the Measures Turnus had taken against Aeneas . These are such Descriptions as are just and manag'd with discretion . They were not made for their own sakes only , nor are they meer Ornaments .

Seneca is far from this Method . If he has any Recital to make , thô never so Melancholy and frightful , he begins it with such Descriptions as are not only useless , but trifling and foolish . 'T is requisite we should produce an Instance of it . Creon has a Story to tell Oedipus , that was the most melancholy , the most frightful , and the most ungrateful that ever could be told a King . He is intreated , he is threatned , and after great signs of Grief for being forc'd to tell him such terrible and afflicting things , he begins his Narration with the Description of a Grove , which Oedipus knew as well as the French King knows the Forests of Vincennes , Boulogne , and S. Germain . But suppose Oedipus had never heard of it , was he then at leisure to be told , that it was full of Cypress-Trees , Oaks , Laurel , Myrtle , Alder , and Pine-Trees ? That the Cypress-Trees are always green , that the Laurel-Trees bear bitter Berries , that the Alder-Trees were proper to build Ships , which ride on the wide Ocean , &c. That the Oaks of this Grove had their Branches distorted and eat up with Age ; that Time had gnawn the Bark off this ; that the Roots of That could no longer support it , and that it would tumble down , were it not prop'd up by the Trunk of another Tree . His Description of all this is in these Words : * * Est procul ab urbe lucus ilicibus niger , Dircaea circa , &c. Sen. Oedip. Act. 3. Far off from Thebes , where Dirce's sacred Well With silent streams bedews the Neighbouring Plain , There is a Grove with darkest shades o'er spread . Here Cypress lifting up its bushy head Graces the Wood with never fading Green . Here quite worn out with Age an Oak displays Its crooked sapless Arms ; the Bark of This Devouring Time has gnawn ; The Root of That Sits loose , and throws it 'gainst another Tree . Here bitter Lawrel , limber Osiers grow , Soft Myrtle to the Paphian Goddess sacred , Tough Alder fit for Ships and Massy Oars , The Lofty Pine that dares the strongest Storm , And turns its knotty side against the Wind. I' th' middle stands a Tree of mighty Bulk Protecting all the lesser Vnder-wood , And throwing all abroad its spreading Boughs , Defends at once , and shades the subject Grove . [ English'd thus by J. Hoadley of Cath. Hall .

CHAP. III. Of Comparisons or Similes .

WE very commonly explain our selves by Similes , and make use of them , the better to make others apprehend what we propose , and to give them a just Idea thereof . There are two Essential Qualities belonging to them , the First is , that the thing we make use of be better known , and easier to apprehend , than that we would make known by its assistance ; and the second is , that there be an exact Relation between them .

As for that which concerns the Knowledge of the thing we make use of in a Simile , there is no need that we should have seen it with our Eyes . 'T is enough that we have the Testimony of common Opinion only on our side ; thô we know at the same time 't is either false or Fabulous . The Phoenix , the Harpyes , and the Adventures of Hercules , are as proper for this purpose , as a Cock , or a Dog , or the Actions of Julius Caesar . Nor should we condemn some Excesses that are commonly to be met with in these Similes , as if they destroyed the justness of them : but we should consider that in this case there is an Hyperbole added to the Simile . 'T is therefore allowable to liken a Valiant Captain to a Torrent that bears down all before it ; to a Thunderbolt that meets with no resistance , and to a Lyon in the midst of a Flock of Sheep . But we are most liable to be deceiv'd in this Justness , if we look upon Similes only as Ornaments ; for then we may neglect the justness which is Essential to them , and mind nothing else but a Lustre and Beauty , which has nothing to do with the Essence . That we may not be deceived therein , we must be acquainted with the Design of the Poet , and the Nature of the things he makes use of . Without this , one is in danger to be mistaken , and to imagine that a just and suitable Simile is both false and vicious . Let us now see some instances of this .

Virgil describing the Beauty of Ascanius , compares him to a precious Stone set in Gold , and to Ivory enchac'd in Box. It is true , that whoever imagines Virgil would say this young Prince was as handsome as a piece of Ivory enchac'd in Box , would find this Simile to be very flat : and would have reason to complain that the Poet lessens an Idea that he ought to raise . But we shall find that this Simile is just , if we would discover wherein it consists , and observe , that the Author has distinguish'd two things in Ascanius . The one is the shining of his comely head when bare : And the other is the Colour of his Complexion , and that of his hair . The first is compared to a precious Stone enchac'd in Gold . * * Dardanius caput ecce puer detectus honestum Qualis gemma micat fulvum quae dividit aurum , Aencid . 10. See how the Trojan Youth , his head all bare , Does like a Gem enchac'd in Gold appear .

This is both just and noble . But the whiteness of a Face would have been but pitifully expressed by a precious Stone . It is with a great deal more Justice compar'd to the Whiteness of Ivory , and the Colour of his Hair to that of Box. * * Vel quale per artem , Inclusum buxo aut Oricia terebintho Lucet ebur : fusos cervix cui lactea crines Accipit . Ibid. Or like to Ivory inclos'd in Box : So shine the Youth 's disshevl'd Yellow Locks Vpon his milky Neck .

In the Sixth Book there is a Comparison very like this last . A Bough of Gold , which grew upon an Oak , the Poet compares to Misleto . He would have taken off very much from the Lustre of this precious Bough , if his design had been to express this Lustre by that of the Misleto . But this Property of Gold is very well known , and the bare naming of this Metal raises in us an Idea of it that is lovely and dazling enough : It stands in no need of being heightened by a Comparison . 'T is a great deal more Wonderful and Extraordinary to see a Tree shoot forth a branch of Gold , of so different a Nature from its own . This therefore calls for a Simile : and is the Subject of that which Virgil made . He does not fail making mention of the Diversity of Natures that is between Green and Yellow Misleto , and the Oak which produces it at a time when it has the least strength , and looks more like a dead Trunk than a living Plant. * * Quale solet Sylvis , &c. Aen. 6. Just as upon some Sapless Oak does grow I' th' midst of Winter verdant Misleto :

We may likewise say that this Simile is a Proof that Nature produces some things extraordinary , and renders the Fiction more probable . For Virgil does sometimes make this use of the Similes he employs . This is manifest from Aeneas's accidental meeting with a Carthaginian Damsel , that was in Armour and a hunting . The Poet compares her to Amazon , and to a Spartan Lass . These two Quotations prove that the meeting with a Damsel hunting in the Forest of Carthage is to be allow'd as exactly probable . This Simile then is a great deal better , more just , and more ingenious than if he had compared this Damsel to Diana ; thô this last would have seemed more noble , and have presented it self sooner to the mind .

If it seems natural to compare a Huntress to Diana , it seems no less so to compare a Valiant Commander to a Lyon . Should not Virgil have done his Hero rather than Turnus this Honour ? Yet he does the contrary . Perhaps 't is because the Character of the Lyon is Anger . He is the emblem of it : And * * Fertur Prometheus addere principi Limo coactus particulam undique Desectam , & insani Leonis Vim Stomacho apposuisse nostro . Lib. 1. Od. 16. Horace informs us that when Prometheus form'd Man out of that which was proper to each Animal , that which he borrow'd from the Lyon was his Anger . The similitude then of this Animal is not at all suitable to the Valour of Aeneas , but a great deal more proper for that of Turnus . So that when the Poet did it he was not at all ignorant of the Terms , Anger and Fury . He makes use of these very Expressions , when he likens Turnus to Mars , to whom he never compares Aeneas .

We should not make Comparisons between Noble and Ignoble , between great and inconsiderable things . But what is base and ignoble at one time and in one Country , is not always so in others . We are apt to smile at Homers comparing Ajax to an Ass in his Iliad . Such a Comparison now adays would be indecent and ridiculous ; because it would be indecent and ridiculous for a person of Quality to ride upon such a Steed . But heretofore this Animal was in better repute : Kings and Princes did not disdain the Beast so much as meer Tradesmen do in our times . 'T is just the same with many other Similes , which in Homer's time were allowable . We should now pity a Poet , that should be so silly and ridiculous as to compare a Hero to a piece of Fat : Yet Homer does it in a Comparison he makes of Vlysses . And the H. Ghost himself , which cannot be supposed to have a wrong sense of things , begins the Encomium of David by this Idea . * * Eccl. 47. 2. As is the Fat taken away from the Peace offering , so was David chosen out of the Children of Israel . The reason of this is , that in these Primitive times , wherein the Sacrifices of the true Religion as well as of the false , were living Creatures ; the Blood and the Fat were reckon'd the most noble , the most august , and the most holy things .

Comparisons do not lessen the Passion of those that hear them , but in the persons that speak them they generally denote such Reflections , as do not usually proceed from a disturb'd and unquiet mind . So that it rarely happens that they seem natural and probable in the mouth of a passionate person . Yet observe what the enrag'd Medea says in Seneca . * * Nunquam meus cessabit in poenas furor , Crescetque semper , &c. Med. Act. 3. Not time it self shall cool my glowing Rage , Which grows in strength still as it grows in age : Cruel as beasts , or Scylla , it shall be , Or as Charybdis whose devouring Sea Sucks up th' Ionian and Sicilian Main , Which meet , and shove each other back again ; So scorching and so hot shall be my Ire , Titan from Aetna ne'er belch'd half the Fire . [ Englished thus by J. Hoadly of Cath. Hall . ]

Such learned Passions are seldom violent . A Woman who takes notice that Charybdis swallows up the two Seas of Ionium and Sicily ; and that the Flames , which Aetna throws out , are belched by a Giant that is overwhelmed with the weight of that Mountain , thinks upon something else beside her Anger .

CHAP. IV. Concerning Sentences .

THis Word Sententia , in Latin is very Ambiguous . It signifies that part of Poetry , which we now treat of in this Book under the Name of Sentiments or Thoughts . It likewise signifies a Sentence of few Words , that contains some profitable Thought or other for the conduct of human Life ; such as in these Instances : * * Discite Justitiam moniti & non temnere Divos . Aen. 6. Learn to be just , and don 't the Gods contemn . The habits we contract in our youth are of great Moment , &c.

The Word Sentence in our Language does not fall under the first of these two Significations . Therefore in this Chapter we shall only take it in the latter Sence , and understand by it , a Moral Instruction couch'd in a few Words .

Sentences then render Poems very useful , and besides that , they have I know not what kind of Lustre that pleases us . So that , it seems natural to imagine , that the more any Work is embellish'd with them , the more it deserves that general Approbation , which Horace promises to those , that have the Art to mix the Profitable with the Pleasant . But there is not any one Vertue , but what is attended with some dangerous Vice or other .

Too many Sentences make the Poem sink into a Stile that is too Philosophical ; and cast it into a Seriousness that is less becoming the Majesty of a Poem , than the Study of the Learned , and the Gravity of the Dogmatical . These Thoughts have in their own Nature a certain kind of calm Wisdom , that is contrary to the Passions , and with which they inspire us : They are such as make the Passions languish as well in the Auditors , as in the speakers . To conclude , the Affectation of speaking by Sentences is the cause that many foolish and triffling ones are spoken , or that they are spoken by such , whose present State and Condition does not allow them to be so prudent and learned . We have a great many of these vicious instances in Seneca's Tragedies .

The misfortunes of Hecuba in the loss of her Kingdom , Husband , Children , and Liberty , render'd her no longer capable of any thing else , but Barking , Howling , and Biting , to use the Poet's Dialect , who for this reason have judiciously transform'd her into a Bitch . From whence then proceed these grave and moderate Sentences , and these fine Moral Reflections ? * * Quicunque regno fidit , & magna potens Dominatur Aula , &c. Troas . Act. 1. Let those , who sit on Thrones , and bear a sway In Courts , who think the Gods will always be Propitious to them , and maintain their State ; Look down on mine , and Troy's unhappy Fate . From these sad turns of Fortune they may learn Themselves may die like Slaves , tho' Monarchs born .

Certainly these are not the Thoughts of this Hecuba , whose name is borrow'd here . They are the Thoughts of Seneca the Philosopher writing at quiet in his Study , and meditating upon the Misfortunes to which the Height of Fortune exposes us . The only interest he takes upon him , is to draw from thence useful Maxims , and this fine Moral , which the glittering Thrones , and the dreadful fall of the most puissant Monarchies supply'd him with .

These are such Sentences as are ill manag'd : Let us now take notice of others that are as ill employ'd , and yet are moreover cold , ridiculous , and absurd .

Oedipus seeking out for a Remedy to succour Thebes , that is reduced to the very brink of ruin , is forc'd at last to conjure up the Ghost of King Laius . He orders Creon to be present at that Ceremony , and afterwards to come and give him an account of it . The Ghost appear'd , discover'd the remedy according as it was requir'd , and Creon comes to give the King an account of it . He begins with declaring , that he cannot tell how to utter his mind ; and by Sentences he makes this foolish Declaration to him : * * Ubi turpis est medicina sanari piget , &c. Oedip. Act. 3. We 're loth to live , when by the nauseous Pill Our health must be restor'd . Kings take it ill They should be told , what they sometimes require . Let me be silent : That 's a small desire No King can well refuse . If that 's deny'd , What can be granted me ?

A Man must have a strange fancy to speak Sententiously , that makes his Personages speak thus upon such an Occasion . When he is upon declaring the only Remedy that could save a State , which his silence would certainly ruin ; is it not a great piece of Impertinence to say , That the least favour that could be begged of a King , is to hold ones peace ; and that if it be not lawful to conceal this Remedy , nothing is lawful ? Yet Oedipus , who at the first denyal made him by Creon , was so incensed against him , * * Itane & salutis publicae indicium obrues .... Mitteris Erebo vile pro cunstis caput , Arcana sacri vote ni relegis tuâ . Ibid. as to threaten him with Death ; when he should have been incensed more against him for his perservering in so unreasonable a denyal , and for his alledging such foolish reasons , as would make one believe he jeer'd him to his face : Yet , I say , as if Oedipus were of the Poets own mind , and had a greater Inclination for Sentences , than for the safety of his Subjects ; he seems to be wholly pacified , since he has the patience to hear Creon say so many fine ones , and is willing to utter such as well as he . And they too are of the same stamp with those we have already seen . This is his answer , That * * Saepe vel linguâ magis . Regi atque regno mutá libertas obest . oftimes silence does more harm to Kings and States than even speaking does ; and that lastly , † † Imperia solvit , qui t●cet jussus loqui . he is no obedient Subject , that speaks not when Commanded .

The first Remedy to cure these Indecenies , is to imagine we hear the true Persons talking naturally together , and to suppose our selves in their places , and see what we would say upon such an Occasion . By this means a Man will learn to use Sentences seldomer , and to retrench those , that being not necessary to raise the Idea of that which he would represent , are only dress'd up for a show . He will likewise learn to strip a great many Thoughts of that Ambitious Air , which forms a general Precept out of a Trifle . And he will say upon these occasions ; I command you to speak , do you Obey : And not like Seneca , he that does not speak when commanded , does not do as we Command him . In short he will know how to manage the Sentences he makes use of better , and how to render them more just .

The second Remedy is , so to express these Sentences , that they be not too apparent ; and that the Effect of them befel before they are discern'd . This is * * Curandum est , ne Sententiae emineant extra corpus orationis expressae , sed intexto vestibus colore nireant . Homerus testis & Lyrici , Romanusque Virgilius , & Horatii curiosa felicitas . Petron. Petronius's Opinion . He is in the right in referring us to our Virgil : For this Poet is admirable in the Art of inserting Sentences .

But before we speak of these disguised Sentences , let us make this Reflection upon the others : That they are generally spoken either by a grave and tragical person , or else by one of the common People .

Hitherto we have spoken concerning the first of these . And to that which we have already said about it , we add , that the Poet should make choice either of such as may excite to Action , and encourage those to whom they are spoken , such as this for instance ; * * Audentes fortuna juvat . Aen. 10. Fortune assists the Brave and Daring Souls :

Or such as may augment the Passion , such as these two figurative ones , of the same stile ; * * Quid non mortalia pectora 〈◊〉 Auri sacra fames ? ●… 3. Vile Avarice ! What bold Attempts dost thou Excite poor Mortals too ? † † Improbe Amor quid non morta●… pectora cogis ? Aen. 4. All conquering Love ! Who can resist thy sway ?

They are made use of quite another way with respect to the Vulgar , and the persons of Comedy . They are often brought in speaking Sententiously , or ( to speak more properly ) in Proverbs and Punns . The reason of this Difference is , that the grave Persons invent what they say , according as the present occasion requires ; so that their Sentences are so many nice or judicious Reflections , which should be inspir'd into them by Objects that are present . Now it seldom happens , that Objects , which are present , inspire these sorts of general Thoughts into passionate and interested persons . 'T is this that ought to regulate the use of them in Poems ; and which Art and Nature have taught Virgil to practise . But the Vulgar never invent , they only say over again by rote what they have heard others say often , and what one may suppose they themselves have said an hundred times over . So that their Sentences cost them no Reflection , nor the least premeditation . Besides , they meet with no passion , which they interrupt contrary to Art : But they only raise laughter , and that is more conformable to the Art and Air of Comedy .

CHAP. V. Of Disguis'd Sentences .

WE are now come to shew that the Sentences should be disguised ; we shall in some instances of Virgil propose the Methods whereby he has made these Disguises . The most general Method is , not to declare the Moral Instruction in Universal Terms , but to make an Application of it to the Action on foot . This , for instance , is a pure Sentence , and declar'd in universal terms : Those who Hic quibus invisi fratres dum vita manebat , Incinsi poenam expectant . Aen. 6. hate their brethren in this life , shall be severely punished for 't in Hell . Virgil applys it to his Action by saying , that Aeneas being in Hell , met there among the damn'd such as had hated their Brethren here on Earth .

There are several ways of disguising Sentences , and of applying them to the Action , sometimes the Consequence alone has this effect , when the Poet has skill enough to manage it well . In the Second Book of the Aeneid , the Trojans were at a stand what they should do with the Wooden-horse , that the Grecians had left behind them Aeneas , that tells the story , relates the Opinions of several considerable persons , of Thymaetes , Capys , Laocoon and others , and therewith he mixes the Discourses of the People , who in the Contrariety of their Opinions knew not on what to resolve . We here see nothing but a bare Recital of that which happen'd among the Trojans upon this Occasion ; This may be conceiv'd without a Sentence , and without a general and universal Proposition . But if this Thought be taken from what follows and consider'd alone ; it is without doubt a Sentence , and a discourse that shews us in general the Nature and the restless Inclinations of a People , that deliberate in a hurry , and know not on what to resolve : * * Scinditur incertum studia in contraria vulgus . The Wavering Mob can't in their Votes agree Some are for this , some that :

It is no matter by whom , and how many these sentences are utter'd : * * Tu ne cede malis sed contra audentior ito Quo tua te fortuna sinet . Aen. 6. Ne're faint beneath the weight of any Ill : But boldly go , where're thy Fortune calls . † † Quo Fata trahunt retrahuntque , sequamur . Quicquid erit , superanda omnis fortuna ferendo est . Aen 5. Let 's follow Fate where-ere it leads the way ; Let what will come , Patience will take away The Pressure of it .

A Sentence is well expressed any of these ways : And these Thoughts taken from the places where they are , and consider'd without the Consequence , as I here represent them , are true Sentences , and Moral Precepts , which fortifie us against all manner of unlucky Accidents , and against the Oppositions of Fortune . But in the Series of the Poem , they are , properly speaking , neither Sentences , nor general Precepts , but advices given to Aeneas upon particular occasions .

The Latin Tongue has an advantage over ours in this , by means of the Ellipsis . In Latin 't is often as elegant to suppress , as 't is to express a word . So that , suppressing the Word that makes the particular Application , one leaves the Thought in that kind of ingenious Ambiguity , which we observ'd in the foregoing Examples , where there is nothing to be understood . Here you have an Instance of this Ellipsis . The Trojans reduc'd to their last shifts by Turnus , see Aeneas advancing to succour them . The Poet says , Spes addita suscitat iras . This Expression signifies equally , either in particular , that the Hope They receiv'd rally'd and increas'd their Courage ; or in general , that the Hope of approaching and certain Succour raises mens Courage , and arms them with new Vigor . If the Poet had added but one Word , and said , Ollis spes addita suscitat iras ; The first sence would have been clearly expressed , and it would not have been a pure Sentence , but the Application of a Sentence . The leaving out of this Word makes it a perfect Sentence . But this leaving out the word being so natural , that we can easily understand it ; reduces the Sentence into the body of the Discourse , and prevents it , as I may so say , from being upon the ramble . This is one of those fine and delicate Unions which Persius requires .

The second way of disguising the Sentences , is by applying them sensibly to the Particular Action . This is done by drawing a particular Conclusion from an Argument founded upon a general Proposition , which we do not express . An instance thereof is this , Dido complains , because she did not set upon Aeneas , whilst it was in her power ; and she starts this Objection against it : That such an Assault would have been as dangerous to her as to her Enemy . Verum anceps pugnae fuerat fortuna . One may answer her in this Argument : He that is resolv'd to die , has nothing to fear ; I have nothing then to fear , since I am resolved to die . It would have been ridiculous to have expressed all this in a Poem , and to make one as passionate as Dido then was , to argue the Case thus . 'T was requisite then that one or other of these Propositions should be made choice of ; each of them is intelligible enough . The mind of the Composer does usually determine this without Reflection , and he takes either that side to which his over serious Wisdom , or to which his own Imagination judiciously warm'd , and transformed into that of the person who Acts and Speaks , inclines him . Thus the Sage and Sententious Seneca would not have fail'd taking the general proposition . What signifies ? He would have said , he fears nothing that is resolv'd to die . Virgil has follow'd his ordinary Flame and Stile , and says , Fuisset ! Quem metus moritura .

Seneca very frequently in his Tragedies , where the Moral should be less apparent than in the Epopea , uttere his Thoughts Morally and Sententiously ; and Virgil on the other hand , in the Epick Poem , and in places that are design'd for Morality , conceals his Sentences under Figures , and particular Applications This Tragedian in his design of joyning what is Profitable to what is Pleasant , has so manag'd things , that he quite hides the Pleasant , and stifles the Passion that should be predominant , that he may foist in a Sentence , the effect whereof is frequently nothing else but the offending those that make impartial Reflections thereon ; as in that we have already taken notice of in his Oedipus . Whilst Virgil , retaining in the Sentence , he makes use of , all that is Profitable and instructive according as he is oblig'd , mixes therewith the Lustre and the Tenderness of the Passions with a judgment and skill that is peculiar to him .

If any thing lays us under an obligation of embracing Vertue , and abandoning Vice , 't is doubtless this Maxim , viz. That the chiefest and best Recompence of a Good Action is Vertue it self , and the good Habits we contract by our good Actions ; as on the contrary , Vicious Actions imprint on us the Love of Vices and the Habits of committing them , which sometimes lead us into a kind of fatal Necessity . The Habits take such deep rooting in us , that Death it self does not make us relinquish them : We preserve to Eternity the Affections and Inclinations which we have contracted in our life-time , and with which we die . So that those who are so unhappy as to leave this World with their Vicious inclinations about them , are afflicted with unspeakable torments , when they come to see the deformity of those Vices which they cannot divest themselves of , and the Beauty of Justice and Vertue , from which they are banish'd for ever . Virgil teaches us all this in several Sentences that he disguises after a most admirable manner .

The first thing is : That the Manners and the Habits are the best reward of good Actions . He tempers this excellent precept with so much Tenderness , that 't is hard to say , whether in this passage he makes use of the Profitable , or the Pleasant . A young Nobleman , Eurialus , the most amiable , and the most beloved of all the Trojans , meets with an important occasion of serving his Prince , to which nothing but his own Vertue obliges him . He embraces the opportunity with all earnestness , and is going to expose himself to a Death , that perhaps might be the heart-breaking of his Mother . She loved this Son so passionately , that she was the only Woman that followed him into Italy , without fearing the Dangers and the Fatigues which kept all the rest behind at Sicily . Eurialus , that lov'd his Mother as dearly , dares not take his leave of her , because he could not away with the tenderness of her tears . He therefore recommends her to young Ascanius . Ascanius receives her into his protection : And on both sides they express all the Passion , which a great Poet was able to inspire them with . 'T is in the midst of these passions , that a grave old Man with tears in his Eyes , embraces Eurialus and his dear friend Nisus ; prays for their success , and for a reward of so much Vertue , promises them such a one as we have been discoursing of . * * Humeros dextrasque tenebat Amborum , & vultum lacrymis atque ora rigabat . Quae vobis , &c. Aen. 9. With this he took the hand of either Boy , Embrac'd them closely both , and wept for Joy . Ye brave young men , what equal gifts can we , What Recompence for such desert , decree ? The greatest sure , and best you can receive , The Gods , your Vertue , and your Fame will give . [ English'd thus by Mr. Dryden in his Miscellan . Part II. pag. 15. ]

The second Sentence is this , that when we die , we carry along with us the habits we have contracted here . The Poet makes mention of the troublesome and tormenting habits , upon the occasion of those Lovers which Aeneas meets with labouring under the same Miseries they did before their Death . Curae non ipsâ in morte relinquunt .

And he says as much concerning the pleasant Inclinations , when in the Elysian Fields Aeneas meets with Heroes that had the same Diversions there , which they enjoy'd whilst here on Earth . — Quae gratia Currûm Armorumque fuit vivis , quae cura nitentes Pascere equos : eadem sequitur tellure repôstos .

The Poet makes a particular Application of this last passage by adding the Words Chariots and Horses . One might entirely retrench them , and that which remains be a pure and perfect Sentence . Quae gratia fuit vivis , quae cura , eadem sequitur tellure repôstos . The preceding passage is pure and general in the Terms , and in the Expression . Curae non ipsâ in morte relinquunt . 'T is the Consequence alone that renders it singular , and reduces it into the body of the Action . These two particular Applications do in the general say the same thing , and teach us ; that we eternally preserve the same passions and habits , which we have contracted whilst living , unless we relinquish them before we die .

This is likewise what our Poet teaches us , when among the Torments of his Hell , he mentions that which the Damn'd suffer there at the sight of the Justice and Vertue they have despis'd , and of which they have eternally depriv'd themselves . * * Sedet aeternumque sedebit Infoelix Theseus : Phlegiasque miserrimus omnes Admonet , & magna restatur voce per umbras : Discite Justitiam moniti , & non temnere Divos . Aen. 6. The miserable Theseus , says Virgil , is in Hell , and there will for ever be ; and Phlegias more miserable than he , is always calling to those about him ; Hark ye , cries he to the Damn'd , and learn what 't is to be just and pious . This passage presents us with a Sentence disguis'd a quite different way from those we have been discoursing of . For the former are concealed under the Expression that contains them : But this last , on the other hand , is not contained in the Expression that presents it to us . Who is there but at first fight will take this Verse of Virgil for a Sentence , and for an Admonition to be just and pious ? Learn to be just , and don 't the Gods Contemn .

In truth a Man would not question but this was the Poet's design ; if he only considers his person , and that of the Readers ; and he cannot say but that he has given it full force : For to cause this Sentence to be spoken in this frightful place of Torment , where Men are punish'd severely for neglecting to practise it , must needs render it very moving and convincing .

But when , without considering the person of the Reader , one Reflects upon the Consequence , and minds only him that speaks , and the persons to whom he speaks : 'T is no such easie matter to imagine , that Virgil's design was to inspire Piety and Justice into Souls , that are no longer capable thereof , being condemn'd to suffer Eternal Torments in a place from whence they must never depart . The Poet's meaning then is something else , since he makes these words be said in a Passage where nothing but Crimes and Punishments are his Theme . The Torments of Sense , denoted by the Chains , the Whips , the Wheels , and the Flames , are not the greatest . The Conscience forms such , to which the others are not to be compar'd . And as our Author has said , that External things are not even in this life the highest Recompence of Vertuous Actions ; he would have us likewise understand , that 't is the same Case with punishments , and that our Soul has no greater a Tormenter than its own self .

* * Magne pater Divum saevos punire Tyrannos Non alia ratione velis , &c. Sat. 3. Perseus , who has taken many things from Virgil , may as well have taken this Thought from him too . This Poet could not imagin any dreadfuller torment , than for a Man to have a view of Vertue , when he lies under such a fatal Necessity , as to be no longer able to pursue it . Plato says , if Vertue could be seen with the Eyes of the Body , it would charm all the World . What torment then must those Men needs suffer , who see it more evidently than with their Bodily Eyes , and are so far from being able to enjoy its Charms , that they see themselves ty'd down inseparably to the contrary Vices , with which they are forc'd to make this Comparison , when in the midst of their Torments they are call'd upon , Learn to be just , and don 't the Gods contemn ?

CHAP. VI. Concerning several other Thoughts .

THE Points and the neat Turns are in the Pleasant , what the Sentences are in the Profitable . Their Lustre dazles young Poets , and others too that have more Fancy than Judgment . The Sentences cool the Action , and retard its Motions by an unseasonable Gravity : And the Points destroy the Majesty of a Poem by pretty conceits that are unbecoming it . Sometimes these fine Words produce forc'd and ridiculous Thoughts , when a Poet would prepare them , and start up occasions to make use of them . In the Troad of Seneca , Agamemnon falls out with Pyrrhus , and hits him in the Teeth , * * Inclusa fluct . that the place of his Nativity was surrounded with Water . † † Nempe cognati maris . Pyrrhus the Grandson of Thetis replies , that these Waters were his Grandmothers : From whence 't is concluded that they cannot prejudice his Island , nor set bounds to his Empire ; since in some sort they belong to it . This was an Ingenious Repartee : But upon what account does Agamemnon upbraid Pyrrhus for being born in an Island ? This King of Kings would never have said thus to Pyrrhus , had not the Poet foresaw , what this youngster would have answered him .

'T is easier redressing this fault , than 't is that of the Sentences ; because the Sentences and the Precepts of Morality are necessary to the Epopéa , whose sole design is to instruct Men , which cannot be done without these Sentences . They therefore cannot be excluded . One must learn how to make use of them , and this requires a great deal of Art , a great deal of Fancy , and a mature and solid Judgment . But the Points are so little necessary , that one may quite exclude them from a Poem . Our Poets have done so : Among so many Sentences , there are so few Points , and pretty Conceits , that one may suppose that even those that happen to be there , are such as crept in without the Poets being aware of them . Virgil was too ingenious not to meet with a great many Points that lay in his way , but he has made no use of them , and by consequence one may presume he wholly rejected them .

The Amplification of the things one speaks of belongs likewise to the same Genius ; and those that are in love with glaring and fine Thoughts are subject to a vicious Amplification . In the Thebaid of S●… Oedipus renounces the Innocency he had retain'd even in the midst of the Crimes he had committed , and he takes them all upon himself , only upon a desire he had of expressing his great Kindness for his daughter Antigone . He had Murder'd his Father , and marry'd his Mother without knowing it . He was severely punished for it . But when he saw Antigone did not abandon him in his miseries , he cries out : O my dear Daughter , I am well enough satisfied with my Commission of Parricide and Incest , since 't is to these that I am beholden for such a Daughter . The Genius of Statius , and the frantick desire he had of making all things look great , is such , that he chooses rather to contradict himself , than not have his humour . When he would amplifie the Valour of Capaneus , Jupiter scarce thinks his whole Godhead to be Match enough for this great Man : And after he had darted one Thunder bolt at him , he is ready to cast another . And when he comes to speak of the Great Power of Jupiter , this very God smiles at the Vanity and Weakness of Capaneus , and disdains him so much , that he could scarce perswade himself to take his Bolt in his hand to crush him with it in pieces .

The affected Study and Knowledge of all Arts and Sciences , is another dangerous Rock to the Vanity of Writers . Though a Poet should know ev'ry thing ; yet 't is not with a design he should vent his Science by retail , and let the World see the Extent of his mind : But that he may say nothing that should argue him ignorant , and that he may speak correctly upon several Occasions . 'T is requisite likewise that these Occasions be natural , and such as appear unavoidable , and unsought for . We have seen one instance of this in the Doctrine of the Immortality of the Soul , which Virgil has so judiciously and necessarily placed in his Sixth Book .

'T is so easie to make use of all manner of Terms of Art in a Poem , that a Man must be one of little Thought and a mean Soul , that shall be Ambitious of the praise of having done it . There needs only reading over a Book of the Art one would speak of ; or conversing with an Artificer : And after that to make some one or other that understands it see what we have writ about it . An Author will be a pitiful Creature , if he does not attain his end by this means : But he will not be much the more learned for having succeeded therein . A great Poet will never stoop to so low and useless a Vanity in an Epick Poem . Let him indeed learn , and know every thing ; but then let him make use of this his knowledge as we before advis'd ; and let him do it by using the most Common , and the most intelligble Terms he can . The minds of his Readers must never be burden'd , when there is no occasion for it : The Passions and the Pleasure of a Poem require an entire freedom from every thing else .

The desire of appearing Learned , makes a Poem smell of it from one end to the other . We shall see Women , that in a violent Passion will make Reflections on things , which in all Probability they are wholly ignorant of ; and on which , though they were acquainted with them , they ought not in the Condition they are in to spend the least Thought . These Poetical Heroine's are vers'd in History , Mythology , Geography , a great many curious Properties of Nature , and very fine Lessons in Morality : In a word , they are not ignorant , in their very Passions , of whatever the Poet knows in his Study , amidst his Books and common places . If they complain of any Cruelty , they name ye all the cruel Tyrants that ever were , and know without the least mistake , wherein the wicked Inclination of each Person did consist .

† † Quis Colchus , aut quis sedes incertae Scytha Commisit ? &c. Troas , Act. 5. 'T is not enough for them to mention Busiris and Diomedes ; they must needs add the Altars of the one , and the Horses of the other . They would think it a shame only to know that the Scythians are cruel ; they must likewise know that they have no six'd Habitation , but are here to Day , and there to Morrow . This is what Seneca's Andromache knew ; and on which she reflected even during the sad Recital of the Death of her only Son , little Astyanax , who was thrown from the top of a Tower . If one considers on all this , one can never be affected with these learned Complaints : And if the Audience never think thereon , to what purpose are they us'd .

The Madness of Medea is no less learned than the Sadness of Andromache . This Mad-Woman threatens to burn the King of Corinth's Palace : The Flame whereof should be seen off the Promontory of Malea , which lies at the farther end of the Peloponnesus . But this is not all ; this Passion would not have been learned enough , had not Medea added , that this Promontory is inaccessible , that the Rocks which surround it with Water-Lilies , oblige the Ships to go a great way about , and that they are forc'd to fail at such a distance off it , that their Voyage by this means is so much the longer . Sometimes likewise , not being able to express these things by Circumlocutions , so as to be understood , all shall be included in an Epithet , an Adverb , or some other word , and then let the Reader guess at the meaning . But Poems are not invented for this .

I shall here make this one Reflection more ; that , though we are to avoid Ostentation , and never to affect appearing Learned : Yet we must not fall into the contrary fault , and appear ignorant , as Statius has done in the beginning of his Thebaid . He undertakes the War of Eteocles and Polynices , and before he enters upon the M●… he relates all that happen'd at the founding of Thebes , and from thence down to their Times . He expresses this in a Doubt ; and he asks his Muses , whether he must begin his Recital with the Rape of Europa . This Doubt is a sign of so gross an Ignorance in the Art , that it betrays a Man's want of Judgment , when he gives his Readers such a disadvantageous Character of himself .

CHAP. VII . Of the Expression .

THE Expression should be suitable to the Subjects one treats on , and consequently should be Beautiful , Noble , and August in the Epick Poem , as well as in Tragedy . But 't is very observable that this Beauty , and this Grandeur is of a very large extent , and like a Genus divides it self into several Species . This will be easily conceiv'd , if one recollect what we have already said in the fourth Book concerning the Character of the Hero , and of the whole Poem in general . The Characters of Achilles , Vlysses , and Aeneas are very great , and yet differ very much from each other . The Iliad consists altogether in Battles , in Anger , and in a continual Commotion without Bounds and measure . The Odysseis on the contrary is full of nothing else but Prudence , Patience , and Wisdom . So that the Learned observe there is a considerable difference in the Stile and Verses of these two Poems . There is a great deal of Flegm in the Odysseis : But the Iliad is all over one continual Flame . The Aeneid should be a great deal softer than the two Greek Poems .

Beside this first Distinction , each part of which comprehends an entire Poem , there are likewise inferiour Distinctions , which divide each Poem into its Episodes and lesser parts . For though the same Character should be predominant , yet it should not take up the Whole of the Poem , there are many Passages very different from one another . This alters the Stile so far , that * * Interdum vocem Comoedia tollit , Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore : Et Tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri . Hor. Poet. sometimes Anger makes Comedy wear the Buskin , and sometimes Sorrow makes Tragedy throw it off . This puts me in mind of a Queen I saw once upon the Stage , who complain'd of her long Misfortunes in a Stile that was quite opposite thereto . She made a comparison between them , and the Happiness of her former Years : And she compar'd these different States to the several Seasons of the Year ; but in such a manner , that she only insisted on the Description of the Beauty and Pleasantness of the Spring . And when after a long train of these fine things , which inspir'd nothing but Pleasure and Joy , she pass'd on to the Description of Winter , and when one would have expected to hear at last something that was conformable to the present Condition of this unfortunate Princess , she gave us the Reverse of it . She made a Description of Winter , not by representing the melancholy part of it , but by making an elegant Amplification on all the Beauties of Spring , which the Winter wanted . All this was expressed in such choice Phrases , which certainly cost the Poet those Studies and sleepless Nights , which * * Nec nocte paratum Plorabit qui me volet incurvasse querela . Hor. Poet. Horace condemns in those that make Complaints .

'T is not enough to express the Passion one treats of well ; 't is moreover requisite that one prevent it not by any Description that may at first give quite contrary Sentiments . I will not make Aurora rise with a Smile , to see the sad Passions which Dido had abandon'd her self to , when the first break of Day presents her with the Flight of Aeneas . This concerns the Doctrine of the Thoughts as much as that of the Expression ; and oft times the Turn and the Expression make all the Beauty of a Thought A Fable , an Allusion , a point of Doctrine , a Metaphor , or some other Figure shall be wholly contain'd in one Word . That which we are now speaking of is more particularly design'd for the Expression .

Poets are oblig'd to keep up to the Rules of Art : But they are not to discover them openly . Oftentimes these very Reflections prejudice , and hinder the Pleasure and the Passion . In this case they have recourse to some Expression and Phrase , which being of it self indifferent to the matter that is treated on , and not obliging the Reader to any Reflection that lessens his Attention to the main thing , does yet give those an occasion of finding out the Rules and the Artifice , who have a mind to look after them . Here is one instance of this taken from the supposition of those that suppose that Aeneas did not spend the Winter in Africk . The Poet represents the hast which the Trojans made to equip their Ships for a sudden Voyage into Italy , and he expresses it thus : Frondentesque ferunt remos , & robora Sylvis Infabricata fugae studio .

Virgil's meaning will seem sufficiently explain'd , if one should say , That the Trojans prepar'd for their Departure with so much earnestness and precipitation , that they brought the Trees almost just as they found them , without giving themselves the leisure to square them , to take the Bark , or so much as to strip the Branches off them . And yet the Word Frondentes is not mention'd , which denotes expresly that these Trees had their Leaves on : From whence one may conclude , that this time was not the Winter Season ; and that this other Expression , Hyberno Sidere , which Virgil makes use of upon the same occasion , cannot denote that Season , but only signifies the Tempestuous Constellation of Orion , which is predominant in the Summer .

The two Remarks I have made in this Chapter , are so much the more necessary , because that those who never invent any thing of their own , but make it their only business to translate , do never sufficiently reflect thereon . One of the best Translators of the Aeneid into French , has in one single Verse given us an Example of these two things . 'T is in that of the fifth Book . Septima post Trojae excidium , jam vertitur Aestas .

This signifies that 't was the end of the seventh Summer since the Ruine of Troy . By this the Poet gives us to understand , that Aeneas did not spend the Winter in Carthage , since he came thither about the Solstice of the seventh Summer ; and at the end of the same Summer he is upon his return to Sicily . This likewise makes it appear that Anchises , whose Anniversary they then celebrated , dyed at the end of the Summer . Lastly , This serves to give an account what the Time and the Duration of the Epick Action in the Aeneid is . All these proofs then are enervated , and the quite contrary are brought in in their stead by this Translation : Le Septiéme Printemps peint la terre de fleurs . The Seventh Spring now paints the Earth with Flowers .

Beside this pleasant Expression , and these Terms of Spring , Flowers , and painted Earth , are entirely opposite to the design of him that speaks , and to the occasion upon which it is spoken . The Trojan Matrons did not lament the Death of Anchises , whose Anniversary they then kept , so much as they did the Miseries they had already suffer'd on the Sea , and those they were still to suffer . They had not their Thoughts then upon the Flowers of the Spring , nor upon the Beauties of the Earth , but upon the sad and frightful Scenes the Sea presented to them ; which they look'd upon with Tears in their Eyes , and with Sighs and Complaints in their Mouths ; * * Cunctaeque profundum Pontum aspectabant flentes . Heu ! tot vada fessis , & tantunti superesse mari● Aen. 5. With weeping Eyes the Deep they all survey'd ; And fetching hideous Sighs , Alass ! they said , Must we poor wearied Souls endure again The rage and fury of the Savage Main ?

CHAP. VIII . How one ought to judge of Elocution .

WHatever Rules we have laid down in this Treatise , and howsoever we have expressed our thoughts , yet it has been far from our design to form a Poet , and to teach Men how to make an Epopea : But only to give the World a clearer insight into the Aeneid . So that we must look upon the whole only as the way whereby one should judge of that excellent piece . 'T is upon this Consideration that we shall here add some general Reflexions to those we have already made .

The justness of the Judgment one passes upon the Thoughts and Elocution of an Author , depends on the Nature of the Poem one reads , and which one should be throughly qualified with , and beside that , it depends upon the Qualities of the mind of him that reads it .

† † Ut Pictura Poësis erit ; quae si propius stes , Te capiet magis , & quaedam falongius abstes . Haec amat obscurum : volet haec sub luce videri . Hor. Poet. Horace touches upon the first point in the comparison he makes between Poetry and Painting . Pictures have their Shadows , their Distances , and their Point of Sight , without which they lose all their Grace and Regularity . The Images that adorn the Arch of a very high Cupola , are very large where they are , and to those who view them pretty near , represent only Members that are monstrous in their Projections . A Man would render himself ridiculous , if he seriously found fault with those mishapen Postures , which Men of Understanding greatly admire . Because in truth these irregular Figures are harder to draw well , than all the ordinary Decorations , where every thing is just and regular .

'T is just so with the Works of the Poets . It is easie after the same manner to find fault with the most excellent and admirable touches of them . One shall inveigh against Homer for carrying on the Bravery of Achilles even to Brutality ; and for degrading the Patience of Vlysses , even to the making him a Beggar . He will laugh at the Meekness and Piety of Aeneas ; and prefer the Valour of Turnus before him . And yet that which appears defective in these Poetical Hero's , is just in the same manner as certain . Pictures seem irregular , when one takes them out of their proper place , and considers them alone , without their Circumstances . These pretended Faults have more justness and Artifice in them and are a great deal harder to manage , than the pitiful Beauties , and the cold and languishing Perfections , which the meanest Poets may steal from Morality , and give to their chief Personages .

Poetry then has its Shadow , and its Point of Sight as well as Painting . And to discover the Beauty and Artifice of each passage , a Man must not examine it alone and without its Circumstances ; for then he will be liable to mistakes . He should read it with the same Passions with which it was penn'd . And he must entertain these motions in the whole Series of the subject matter , and of the Body of the Poem . To do otherwise , is to deceive ones self , or upon design to deceive others . 'T is to do as Eschynes , when he upbraids Demosthenes , and says , the Phrases he made use of were more like Monsters than Words in a Speech . That they might appear such , he proposes them out of their due place , and without that Patheticalness with which they were spoken and heard . Cicero says this is no such hard matter . Nor is there any difficulty to find fault with several Beauties of Homer and Virgil , and to turn them into Ridicule , either by being ignorant of the Art , or by the Wit of an Enemy , or by the Spite of an envious Humour , or lastly by the Buffooneries of a Railer .

We may likewise fall into these false Criticisms for want of Learning , and a deep reach . We would fain have Homer and Virgil form the Customs and Manners of their Personages according to the modern Mode . We think their ways of speaking fantastical , because they would be ridiculous , if turn'd Verbatim into our Language . We faney there 's an extraordinary meanness in the Words Pots and Kettles , Blood , Fat , the Intestines and other parts of Animals , because all this is now nothing else but Butcher's and Kitchen-girls Language , and we are apt to laugh at it . And we never consider that in Homer and Virgil's time all this was agreeable to the sense of the * * Moab is my Washpot . Psal. 60. v. 8. Now the Sons of Eli were Sons of Belial , they knew not the Lord . And the Priests Custom with the People was , &c. 1 Sam. 2. from v. 12. to v. 17. Holy Ghost himself , which could never be in the wrong , that God had very carefully enjoyn'd Moses all these things , as the most August and Venerable that he would have us'd in the Religion and Worship he requir'd of Men ; and that lastly , Queens , and Princesses , and Persons of the finest Make , observ'd them with care , respect , and veneration . 'T is therefore according to these Ideas that our Poets were bound to speak of these things . They would have been impious had they treated these Subjects with Contempt . And perhaps a Christian would do little better , should he dare to ridicule them , especially if we reflect that the Books of Homer and Virgil have us'd them less than they are made use of in several Books of the Holy Bible , which a Man by thus doing will expose to the Buffoonery of Libertines and Atheists .

The Expression in its kind is of no less extent , and requires no less study . The Greek and Latin are two dead Languages , of which we are no longer Masters . They have their Turns , their Delicacies , and their Beauties , which we ought to study in the best Originals . It would be a piece of Vanity , if we pretended to understand the Languages which we no longer speak , as well as those who have improv'd them for so many Ages together , and as well as those that have brought them to their highest perfection , and have come off with the greatest success . Shall a French Man , or any Man now a days pretend that he is better qualified to Criticise upon Homer than Aristotle was ? If not , then we should credit him * * 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Poet. c. 24. , when he assures us , that this Poet has surpass'd all others in the Art of Writing well , whether we consider his Sentiments and Thoughts , or whether we consider his Expression : And that he has not only excell'd all others , but met with perfect success .

We may therefore shut up all by ending as we began . Languages as well as Poems are the Inventions of Art and a Genius , which gives them their Form and Perfection . If we have a mind to know them throughly , and to pass a right Judgment upon the Ancients , we must before every thing rectifie our Judgment . If a Man has a mind to know whether a Line be strait or no , he does not take the next piece of Wood he can find to clap to it , but this piece of Wood must in the first place be made perfectly strait , if he would have it serve for a Rule : Else , if he applys it , and it does not touch all the parts of the Line , he will not guess whether the fault be in the Line or in the piece of Wood. Just so likewise , before we judge of a Poem , we should rectifie our Judgment , and prove it by the excellent Works of the best Masters . If they do not please us , we should rather think the fault is in our own Judgments , than in those Models ; and if they do please us , we may rely upon our selves with the greater assurance , according to that judicious Thought of Quinctilian : That he whom Cicero pleases , should by that conclude , that he has benefited himself very much .

The same thing we say of our four Authors . A Person may rely upon his own Judgment in that which concerns the Epick Poem , and may assure himself of its Rectitude and Straightness , when his Thoughts , his Genius , and his Reasonings are conformable to the Precepts of Aristotle and Horace , and to the Practice of Homer and Virgil.

The END .