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fine writing, which is our object, the progress of society must, in equity, be admitted to have given us some advantages. For instance, in history; there is certainly more political knowledge in several European nations at present, than there was in ancient Greece and Rome. We are better acquainted with the nature of government, because we have seen it under a greater variety of forms and revolutions. The world is more laid open than it was in former times; commerce is greatly enlarged; more countries are civilized; posts are every where established; intercourse is become more easy; and the knowledge of facts, by consequence, more attainable. All these are great advantages to historians; of which, in some measure, as I shall afterward show, they have availed themselves. In the more complex kinds of poetry, likewise, we may have gained somewhat, perhaps, in point of regularity and accuracy. In dramatic performances, having the advantage of the ancient models, we may be allowed to have made some improvements in the variety of the characters, the conduct of the plot, attention to probability, and to decorums.

These seem to me the chief points of superiority we can plead above the ancients. Neither do they extend as far as might be imagined at first view. For if the strength of genius be on one side, it will go far, in works of taste at least, to counterbalance all the artificial improvements which can be made by greater knowledge and correctness. To return to our comparison of the age of the world with that of a man; it may be said, not altogether without reason, that if the advancing age of the world bring along with it more science and more refinement, there belong, however, to its earlier periods, more vigour, more fire, more enthusiasm of genius. This appears indeed to form the characteristical difference between the ancient poets, orators, and historians, compared with the modern. Among the ancients, we find higher conceptions, greater simplicity, more original fancy. Among the moderns, sometimes more art and correctness, but feebler exertions of genius. But, though this be in general a mark of distinction between the ancients and moderns, yet, like all general observations, it must be understood with some exceptions; for in point of poetical fire and original genius, Milton and Shakspeare are inferior to no poets in any age.

It is proper to observe, that there were some circumstances in ancient times, very favourable to those uncommon efforts of genius which were then exerted. Learning was a much more rare and singular attainment in the earlier ages, than it is at present. It was not to schools and universities that the persons applied, who sought to distinguish themselves. They had not this easy recourse. They travelled for their improvement into distant countries, to Egypt, and to the East. They inquired after all the monuments of learning there. They conversed with priests, philosophers, poets, with all who had acquired any distinguished fame. They returned to their own country full of the discoveries which they had made, and fired by the new and uncommon objects which they had seen. Their knowledge and improvements cost them

more labour, raised in them more enthusiasm, were attended with higher rewards and honours, than in modern days. Fewer had the means and opportunities of distinguishing themselves; but such as did distinguish themselves, were sure of acquiring that fame, and even veneration, which is, of all other rewards, the greatest incentive to genius. Herodotus read his history to all Greece assembled at the Olympic games, and was publicly crowned. In the Peloponnesian war, when the Athenian army was defeated in Sicily, and the prisoners were ordered to be put to death, such of them as could repeat any verses of Euripides were saved, from honour to that poet, who was a citizen of Athens. These were testimonies of public regard, far beyond what modern manners confer upon genius.

In our times, good writing is considered as an attainment neither so difficult, nor so high and meritorious.

Scribimus indocti, doctique, Poëmata passim.*

We write much more supinely, and at our ease, than the ancients. To excel, is become a much less considerable object. Less effort, less exertion is required, because we have many more assistances than they. Printing has rendered all books common, and easy to be had. Education for any of the learned professions can be carried on without much trouble. Hence a mediocrity of genius is spread over all. But to rise beyond that, and to overtop the crowd, is given to few. The multitude of assistances which we have for all kinds of composition, in the opinion of Sir William , Temple, a very competent judge, rather depresses, than favours, the exertions of native genius. "It is very possible," says that ingenious author, in his Essay on the Ancients and Moderns, " that men may lose rather than gain by these; may lessen the force of their own genius, by forming it upon that of others; may have less knowledge of their own, for contenting themselves with that of those before them. So a man that only translates, shall never be a poet; so people that trust to others' charity, rather than their own industry, will be always poor. Who can tell," he adds, "whether learning may not even weaken invention, in a man that has great advantages from nature? Whether the weight and number of so many other men's thoughts and notions may not suppress his own; as heaping on wood sometimes suppresses a little spark, that would otherwise have grown into a flame? The strength of mind, as well as of body, grows more from the warmth of exercise, than of clothes; nay, too much of this foreign heat, rather makes men faint, and their constitutions weaker than they would be without them."

From whatever cause it happens, so it is, that among some of the ancient writers, we must look for the highest models in most of the kinds of elegant composition. For accurate thinking and enlarged ideas, in several parts of philosophy, to the

"Now every desp'rate blockhead dares to write;
Verse is the trade of ev'ry living wight."

FRANCIS.

moderns we ought chiefly to have recourse. Of correct and finished writing in some works of taste, they may afford useful patterns; but for all that belongs to original genius, to spirited, masterly, and high execution, our best and most happy ideas are, generally speaking, drawn from the ancients. In epic poetry, for instance, Homer and Virgil, to this day, stand not within many degrees of any rival. Orators, such as Cicero and Demosthenes, we have none. In history, notwithstanding some defects, which I am afterwards to mention in the ancient historical plans, it may be safely asserted, that we have no such historical narration, so elegant, so picturesque, so animated, and interesting, as that of Herodotus, Thucydides, Xen ophon, Livy, Tacitus, and Sallust. Although the conduct of the drama may be admitted to have received some improvements, yet for poetry and sentiment we have nothing to equal Sophocles and Euripides; nor any dialogue in comedy, that comes up to the correct, graceful, and elegant simplicity of Terence. We have no such love elegies as those of Tibullus; no such pastorals as some of Theocritus's; and for lyric poetry, Horace stands quite unrivalled. The name of Horace cannot be mentioned without a particular encomium. That "Curiosa Felicitas" which Petronius has remarked in his expression; the sweetness, elegance, and spirit of many of his odes, the thorough knowledge of the world, the excellent sentiments, and natural easy manner which distinguish his satires and epistles, all contribute to render him one of those very few authors whom one never tires of reading; and from whom alone, were every other monument destroyed, we should be led to form a very high idea of the taste and genius of the Augustan age.

To all such, then, as wish to form their taste and nourish their genius, let me warmly recommend the assiduous study of the ancient classics, both Greek and Roman.

Nocturna versate manu, versate diurnâ.*

Without a considerable acquaintance with them, no man can be reckoned a polite scholar; and he will want many assistances for writing and speaking well, which the knowledge of such authors would afford him. Any one has great reason to suspect his own taste, who receives little or no pleasure from the perusal of writings, which so many ages and nations have consented in holding up as objects of admiration. And I am persuaded it will be found, that in proportion as the ancients are generally studied and admired, or are unknown and disregarded in any country, good taste and good composition will flourish, or decline. They are commonly none but the ignorant or superficial, who undervalue them.

At the same time, a just and high regard for the prime writers of antiquity is to be always distinguished, from that contempt of every thing which is modern, and that blind veneration for all that has been written in Greek or Latin, which belongs only to pe

"Read them by day, and study them by night."

FRANCIS.

dants. Among the Greek and Roman authors, some assuredly deserve much higher regard than others; nay, some are of no great value. Even the best of them lie open occasionally to just censure; for to no human performance is it given to be absolutely perfect. We may, we ought therefore to read them with a distinguishing eye, so as to propose for imitation their beauties only; and it is perfectly consistent with just and candid criticism, to find fault with parts, while, at the same time, it admires the whole.

After these reflections on the ancients and moderns, I proceed to a critical examination of the most distinguished kinds of composition, and the characters of those writers who have excelled in them, whether modern or ancient.

The most general division of the different kinds of composition is, in those written in prose, and those written in verse; which certainly require to be separately considered, because subject to separate laws. I begin, as is most natural, with writings in prose. Of orations, or public discourses of all kinds, I have already treated fully. The remaining species of prose compositions, which assume any such regular form, as to fall under the cognizance of criticism, seem to be chiefly these: historical writing, philosophical writing, epistolary writing, and fictitious history. Historical composition shall be first considered; and, as it is an object of dignity, I pur pose to treat of it at some length.

As it is the office of an orator to persuade, it is that of an histo rian to record truth for the instruction of mankind. This is the proper object and end of history, from which may be deduced many of the laws relating to it; and if this object were always kept in view, it would prevent many of the errors into which persons are apt to fall concerning this species of composition. As the primary end of history is to record truth,-impartiality, fidelity, and accuracy, are the fundamental qualities of an historian. He must neither be a panegyrist, nor a satirist. He must not enter into faction, nor give scope to affection: but, contemplating past events and characters with a cool and dispassionate eye, must present to his readers a faithful copy of human nature.

At the same time, it is not every record of facts, however true, that is entitled to the name of history; but such a record as enables us to apply the transactions of former ages for our own instruction. The facts ought to be momentous and important: represented in connexion with their causes, traced to their effects, and unfolded in clear and distinct order. For wisdom is the great end of history. It is designed to supply the want of experience. Though it enforce not its instructions with the same authority, yet it furnishes us with a greater variety of instructions, than it is possible for experience to afford, in the course of the longest life. Its object is to enlarge our views of the human character, and to give full exercise to our judg ment on human affairs. It must not therefore be a tale, calculated to please only, and addressed to the fancy. Gravity and dignity are essential characteristics of history; no light ornaments are to be employed, no flippancy of style, no quaintness of wit. But the writer

must sustain the character of a wise man, writing for the instruction of posterity; one who has studied to inform himself well, who has pondered his subject with care, and addresses himself to our judg ment, rather than to our imagination. At the same time, historical writing is by no means inconsistent with ornamented and spirited narration. It admits of much high ornament and elegance; but the ornaments must be always consistent with dignity; they should not appear to be sought after; but to rise naturally from a mind animated by the events which it records.

Historical composition is understood to comprehend under it, annals, memoirs, lives. But these are its inferior subordinate species; on which I shall hereafter make some reflections, when I shall have first considered what belongs to a regular and legitimate work of history. Such a work is chiefly of two kinds, either the entire history of some state or kingdom through its different revolutions, such as Livy's Roman History; or the history of some one great event, or some portion or period of time which may be considered as making a whole by itself; such as, Thucydides's History of the Peloponnesian War, Davila's History of the Civil Wars of France, or Clarendon's of those of England.

In the conduct and management of his subject, the first attention requisite in an historian, is to give it as much unity as possible; that is, his history should not consist of separate unconnected parts merely, but should be bound together by some connecting principle, which shall make the impression on the mind of something that is one, whole, and entire. It is inconceivable how great an effect this, when happily executed, has upon a reader, and it is surprising that some able writers of history have not attended to it more. Whether pleasure or instruction be the end sought by the study of history, either of them is enjoyed to much greater advantage, when the mind has always before it the progress of some one great plan or system of action; when there is some point or centre, to which we can refer the various facts related by the historian.

In general histories, which record the affairs of a whole nation or empire throughout several ages, this unity, I confess, must be more imperfect. Yet even there, some degree of it can be preserved by a skilful writer. For though the whole, taken together, be very complex, yet the great constituent parts of it, form so many subordinate wholes, when taken by themselves; each of which can be treated both as complete within itself, and as connected with what goes before and follows. In the history of a monarchy, for instance, every reign should have its own unity; a beginning, a middle, and an end, to the system of affairs; while, at the same time, we are taught to discern how that system of affairs rose from the preceding, and how it is inserted into what follows. We should be able to trace all the secret links of the chain, which binds together remote, and seemingly unconnected events. In some kingdoms of Europe, it was the plan of many succeeding princes to reduce the power of their nobles; and during several reigns, most of the leading actions had a reference to this end. In other states, the rising power of the com

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