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Under this head may be reckoned the placing the adjective after the fubftantive, the tranfpofition of words, the turning the adjective into a fubftantive, with feveral other foreign modes of fpeech, which this poet has naturalized to give his verfe the greater found, and throw it out of profe.

The third method mentioned by Ariftotle, is what agreees with the genius of the Greek language more than with that of any other tongue, and is therefore more ufed by Homer than by any other poet. I mean the lengthning of a phrafe by the addition of words, which may either be inferted or omitted, as alfo by the extending or contracting of particular words by the infertion or omiffion of certain fyllables. Milton has put in practice this method of raising his language, as far as the nature of our tongue will permit, as in the paffage above-mentioned, remite, for what is hermite, in common difcourfe. If you obferve the measure of his verfe, he has with great judgment fupprefled a fyllable in feveral words, and fhortned thofe of two fyllables into one, by which method, befides the abovementioned advantage, he has given a greater variety to his numbers. Bat this practice is more particularly remarkable in the names of perfons and of countries, as Beelzebub, Heebon, and in many other particalars, wherein he has either changed the name, or made use of that which is not the most commonly known, that he might the better depart from the language of the vulgar.

The fame reafon recommended to him feveral old words, which also makes his poem appear the more venerable, and gives it a greater air of antiquity.

VOL. 1.

I must likewife take notice, that there are in Milton feveral words of his own coining, as Cerberean, mifcreated, Hell-docm'd, embryon, atoms, and many others. If the reader is offended at this liberty in our Englith poet, I would recommend him to a difcourfe in Plutarch, which fhows us how frequently Homer has made ufe of the fame liberty.

Milton by the above-mentioned helps, and by the choice of the nobleft words and phrafes which our tongue would afford him, has carried our language to a greater highth than any of the English poets have ever done before or after him, and made the fublimity of his stile equal to that of his fentiments.

I have been the more particular in thefe obfervations on Milton's ftile, because it is that part of him in which he appears the most fingular. The remarks I have here made upon the practice of other poets, with my obfervations out of Arifto. tle, will perhaps alleviate the prejudice which fome have taken to his poem upon this account; tho' after all, I must confefs, that I think his file, tho' admirable in general, is in fome places too much stiffened and obfcured by the frequent ufe of thofe methods, which Aristotle has prefcribed for the raifing of it.

This redundancy of thofe feveral ways of fpeech which Ariftotle calls foreign language, and with which Milton has fo very much enriched, and in fome places darkned the language of his poem, was the more proper for his ufe, because his poem is written in blank verfe. Rime without any other affittance, throws the language off from profe. and very often makes an indifferent phrafe país unregarded; but where the verfe is not built upon rimes, there pomp. of found, and energy h

of

of expreffion, are indifpenfably neceffary to fuppoet the ftile, and keep it from falling into the flatnels of profe.

Those who have not a taste for this elevation of ftile, and are apt to ridicule a poet when he goes out of the common forms of expreffion, would do well to fee how Ariftotle has treated an ancient author, called Euclid, for his infipid mirth upon this occafion. Mr. Dryden ufed to call this fort of men his profe critics..

I should, under this head of the language, confider Milton's numbers, in which he has made ufe of feveral elifions, that are not cuftomary among other English poets, as may be particularly obferved in his cutting off the letter r, when it precedes a vowel. This, and fome other innovations in the measure of his verfe, has varied his numbers in fuch a manner, as makes them incapable of fatiating the ear and cloying the reader, which the fame uniform measure would certainly have done, and which the perpetual returns of rime never fail to do in long narrative poems. I fhall close thefe reflections upon the language of Paradife Loft, with obferving that Milton has copied after Homer, rather than Virgil, in the length of his periods, the copioufnefs of his phrafes, and the running of his verfes into one another.

I HAVE now confider'd Milton's Paradife Loft under thofe four great heads of the fable, the characters, the fentiments, and the language; and have shown that he excels, in general, under each of these heads. I hope that I have made feveral difcoveries which may appear new, even to those who are verfed in critical learning. Were I indeed to

chufe my readers, by whofe judg ment I would ftand or fall, they fhould not be fuch as are acquainted only with the French and Italian critics, but also with the ancient and modern who have written in either of the learned languages. Above all, I would have them well versed in the Greek and Latin poets, without which a man very often fancies that he understands a critic, when in reality he does not comprehend his meaning.

It is in criticifm, as in all other fciences and fpeculations; one who brings with him any implicit notions and obfervations which he has made in his reading of the poets, will find his own reflections methodized and explained, and perhaps feveral little hints that had paffed in his mind, perfected and improved in the works of a good critic; whereas one who has not thefe previous lights, is very often an utter ftranger to what he reads, and apt to put a wrong interpretation upon it.

Nor is it fufficient, that a man who fets up for a judge in criticifm, fhould have perufed the authors above-mentioned, unless he has alfo a clear and logical head. Without this talent he is perpetually puzzled and perplexed amidit his own blunders, miftakes the fense of thofe he would confute, or if he chances to think right, does not know how to convey his thoughts to another with clearness and perfpicuity. Aristotle, who was the beft critic, was alfo one of the beft logicians that ever appeared in the world.

Mr. Locke's Effay on Human Understanding would be thought a very odd book for a man to make himself mafter of, who would get a reputation by critical writings; tho' at the fame time it is very certain, that an author, who has not learned

the

the art of diftinguishing between words and things, and of ranging his thoughts, and fetting them in proper lights, whatever notions he may have, will lose himself in confufion and obfcurity. I might further obferve, that there is not a Greek or Latin critic who has not shown, even in the file of his criticisms, that he was a master of the elegance and delicacy of his native tongue.

The truth of it is, there is nothing more abfurd than for a man to fet up for a critic, without a good infight into all the parts of learning; whereas many of thofe who have endevored to fignalize themfelves by works of this nature among our English writers, are not only defective in the above-mentioned particulars, but plainly difcover by the phrafes which they make ufe of, and by their confufed way of thinking, that they are not acquainted with the most common and ordinary fyftems of arts and fciences. A few general rules extracted out of the French authors, with a certain cant of words, has fometimes fet up an illiterate heavy writer for a molt judicious and formidable critic.

One great mark, by which you may discover a critic who has neither tafte nor learning, is this, that he feldom ventures to praife any paffage in an author which has not been before received and applauded by the public, and that his criticifm turns wholly upon little faults and errors. This part of a critic is fo very easy to fucceed in, that we find every ordinary reader, upon the publishing of a new poem, has wit and ill-nature enough to turn feveral paffages of it into ridicule, and very often in the right place. This Mr. Dryden has very agreeably remarked in those two celebrated lines,

Errors, like ftraws, upon the furface flow;

He who would fearch for pearls muft dive below.

A true critic ought to dwell ra. ther upon excellencies than imperfections, to discover the concealed beauties of a writer, and communicate to the world fuch things as are worth their obfervation The molt exquifite words and fincit ftrokes of an author are thofe which very often appear the most doubtful and exceptionable to a man who wants a relifh for polite learning; and they are thefe, which a four undillinguifhing critic generally attacks with the greatest violer.ce Tully obferves, that it is very eafy to brand or fix a mark upon what he calls verbum ardens, or, as it may be rendered into English, a glowing bold expreffion, and to turn it into ridicule by a cold ill-natured criticifm. A little wit is equally capable of expofing a beauty, and of aggravating a fault; and though fuch a treatment of an author naturally produces indignation in the mind of an understanding reader, it has however its effect among the generality of thofe whofe hands it falls into, the rabble of mankind being very apt to think that every thing which is laughed at with any mixture of wit, is ridiculous in itself.

Such a mirth as this, is always unfeasonable in a critic, as it rather prejudices the reader than convinces him, and is capable of making a beauty as well as a blemish, the fubject of derifion. A man who cannot write with wit on a proper fub. ject, is dull and ftupid, but one who thows it in an improper place, is as impertinent and abfurd. Befides, a man who has the gift of ridicule, is apt to find fault with any thing that

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gives

gives him an opportunity of exert ing his beloved talent, and very often cenfures a paffage, not because there is any fault in it, but because he can be merry upon it. Such kinds of pleafantry are very unfair and difingenuous in works of criticifm, in which the greatest masters, both ancient and modern, have always appeared with a ferious and inftructive air.

As I intend in my next paper to fhow the defects in Milton's Paradife Loft, I thought fit to premife thefe few particulars, to the end that the reader may know I enter upon it, as on a very ungrateful work, and that I fhall juft point at the imperfections. without endevoring to inflame them with ridicule. I mult alfo obferve with Longinus, that the productions of a great genius, with many lapfes and inadvertencies, are infinitely preferable to the works of an inferior kind of author, which are fcrupuloufly exact and conformable to all the rules of correct writing.

I fhall conclude my paper with a flory out of Boccalini, which fufficiently hows us the opinion that judicious author entertained of the fort of critics I have been here mention ing. A famous critic, fays he, having gathered together all the faults of an eminent poet, made a prefent of them to Apollo, who received them very graciously, and refolved to make the author a fuitable return for the trouble he had been at in collecting them. In order to this, he fet before him a fack of wheat as it bad been juit threshed out of the theat He then bid him pick out the chaff from among the corn, and lav it afide by itself. The critic apphed himself to the task with great industry and pleature, and after having made the due feparation, was

prefented by Apollo with the chaff for his pains.

AFTER what I have faid, I fhall enter on the fubject without farther preface, and remark the fe veral defects which appear in the fable, the characters, the fentiments, and the language of Milton's Paradife Loft; not doubting but the reader will pardon me, if I allege at the fame time whatever may be faid for the extenuation of fuch defects. The firft imperfection which I fhall obferve in the fable is, that the cvent of it is unhappy.

The fable of every poem is according to Ariftotle's divfion either fimple or implex. It is called fimple when there is no change of fortune in it, implex when the fortune of the chief actor changes from bad to good, or from good to bad. The implex fable is thought the most perfect; I fuppofe because it is more proper to ir up the paffions of the reader, and to furprife him with a greater variety of accidents.

The implex fable is therefore of two kinds: in the first the chief actor makes his way through a long feries of dangers and difficulties, till he arrives at honor and profperity, as we fee in the ftory of Ulyffes. In the fecond, the chief actor in the poem falls from fome eminent pitch of honor and profperity, into mifery and difgrace. Thus we fee Adam and Eve finking from a state of innocence and happiness, into the most abject condition of fin and forrow

The most taking tragedies among the Ancients were built on this latt fort of implex fable, particularly the tragedy of dipus, which proceeds upon a story, if we may bel eve Ariftotle, the moit proper for tragedy that could be invented by the wit of

man.

man. I have taken fome pains in a former paper to fhow, that this kind of implex fable, wherein the event is unhappy, is more apt to affect an audience than that of the first kind; notwithstanding many excellent pieces among the Ancients, as well as most of those which have been written of late years in our own country, are railed upon contrary plans. I muft however own, that I think this kind of fable, which is the most perfect in tragedy, is not fo proper for an heroic poem.

Milton feems to have been fenfible of this imperfection in his fable, and has therefore endevored to cure it by feveral expedients; particularly by the mortification which the great adversary of mankind meets with upon his return to the affembly of infernal Spirits, as it is defcribed in a beautiful paffage of the tenth book; and likewife by the vifion, wherein Adam at the clofe of the poem fees his offspring triumphing over his great enemy, and himfelf restored to a happier Paradife than that from which he fell.

There is another objection againft Milton's fable, which is indeed almoft the fame with the former, tho' placed in a different light, namely, That the hero in the Paradife Loft is unfuccessful, and by no means a match for his enemies. This gave occafion to Mr. Dryden's reflection, that the Devil was in reality Milton's hero. I think I have obviated this objection in my first paper. The Paradife Loft is an epic, or a narrative poem, and he that looks for an hero in it, fearches for that which Milton never intended; but if he will needs fix the name of an hero upon any perfon in it, 'tis certainly the Meffiah is the hero, both in the principal action, and in the

chief episodes. Paganism could not furnish out a real action for a fable greater than that of the Iliad or Æneid, and therefore an heathen could not form a higher notion of a poem than one of that kind which they call an heroic. Whether Milton's is not of a fublimer nature I will not prefume to determin: It is fufficient that I fhow there is in the Paradife Loft all the greatness of plan, regularity of defign, and maiterly beauties which we discover in Homer and Virgil.

I must in the next place observe, that Milton has interwoven in the texture of his fable fome particulars which do not feem to have probability enough for an epic poem, particularly in the actions which he afcribes to Sin and Death, and the picture which he draws of the Limbo of Vanity, with other paffages in the fecond book. Such allegories rather favor of the fpirit of Spenfer and Ariofto, than of Homer and Virgil.

In the ftru&ture of this poem he has likewife admitted of too many digreffions. It is finely obferved by Aristotle, that the author of an heroic poem fhould seldom speak himfelf, but throw as much of his work as he can into the mouths of thofe who are his principal actors. Ariftotle has given no reason for this precept; but I prefume it is because the mind of the reader is more awed and elevated when he hears Eneas or Achilles fpeak, than when Virgil or Homer talk in their own perfons. Befides that affuming the character of an eminent man is apt to fire the imagination, and raise the ideas of the author. Tully tells us, mentioning his dialogue of old age, in which Čato is the chief fpeaker, that upon a review of it he was a

greeably

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