CHAP. III. Of Judg ment. actors and actresses; and not the personages, whose names and characters they assume, that we cannot suffer the same licence of fiction in dramatic, as in epic poetry. As we see no representation of Ajax or Achilles, while reading or hearing the Iliad, we have no predetermined ideas of what their size and strength might have been; and the mind consequently draws imaginary portraits of them, proportioned to the actions, which it finds attributed to them*: but when these heroes are brought úpon the stage, they are instantly reduced to the dimensions of the actors, who personate them; and if they even talk of driving whole armies before them, or sacking cities by the strength of their single arm, we immediately feel the absurdity of it; and the whole becomes farcical and ridiculous; of which we have a memorable instance in Dryden's Almanzor. tions, though it constitute their principal merit in the closet, contributed but little to their effect in the forum. "Actio, inquam, in dicendo una dominatur: sine hac summus orator esse in numero nullo potest; mediocris hac instructus summos sæpe superare. Huic primas dedisse Demosthenes dicitur, cum rogaretur quid in dicendo esset primum; huic secundas; huic tertias sententiæ sæpe acutæ non acutorum hominum sensus prætervolant: actio, quæ præ se motum animi fert, omnes movet." Cic. de Orat. lib. iii. ad fin. * μαλλον δ' ενδέχεται εν τη εποποιία το αλογον, δι ̓ ὁ συμβαινει μαλιστα το θαυμαστον, δια το μη όραν εις τον πραττοντα. ARISTOT. Poetic. f. xliii. 16. Upon this principle, that sort of semblance to truth, which, for distinction's sake, we will call poetical probability, does not arise so much from the resemblance of the fictions to real events, as from the consistence of the language with the sentiments, of the sentiments and actions with the characters, and of the different parts of the fable, with each other: for, if the mind be deeply interested; as it always will be by glowing sentiments and fervid passions happily expressed, and naturally arising out of the circumstances and incidents of a consistent fable, it will never turn aside to any extraneous matter for rules of comparison; but judge of the probability of the events merely by their connection with, and dependence upon each other. 17. All change of place; and all progression of time in a drama, beyond that actually employed in the representation of the piece, must be equally violations of truth and probability, if they be any violations of it at all: for whether the change of scene be from one street to another, or from one kingdom to another, there is equally, in the representation, a supposition of that which is not; and in that which is not, there can be neither mode nor degree. In the Electra of Sophocles, the most perfect piece, perhaps, extant of the Greek theatre, a conspiracy of the most secret and T CHAP. III. Of Judg ment. CHAP. Of Judg ment. dangerous nature is carried on against a bloody and suspicious usurper, at the door of his own palace, in the public street, and in the presence of a multitude of persons; all which incongruities are heaped together to preserve the unity of the place; the sacrifice of which would, surely, have been a much less important sacrifice of probability. Had Aristotle known no other great epic poem than the Iliad, his sagacity would have discovered, and his ingenuity proved that unity of place was as necessary to epic as to dramatic poetry; and all succeeding critics would have repeated, exemplified, and explained the dictates of their oracle: but the Odyssey luckily saved epic poetry from any such limitation; and allowed the taste and genius of Virgil to display itself in those various changes of scenery, which he was so eminently qualified to describe and embellish; but which, nevertheless, the natural cautiousness and modesty of his disposition would not have allowed him to introduce contrary to the established rules of criticism; though those rules were nothing more than general deductions from the particular, and, in many instances, accidental practice of such poets as himself. The authors of the Iliad and Odyssey (for I have no doubt that they were two) would probably have laughed at the restrictions, which their modes of treating their respective fables, had imposed upon all succeeding epic poets; and have been as much amazed, as the most ignorant of their audience, at hearing of the systematic principles of profound philosophy, in which critics, after the lapse of many ages, discovered their practice to be founded. 18. Unity of action has been held to be a still more essential requisite both of epic and dramatic poetry, than either unity of time or identity of place; and here it is asserted, the venerable authority of the father of poetry, is decisive and unquestionable; the action, in each of the two poems of the Iliad and the Odyssey, being simply one; namely, the anger of Achilles, and the restoration of Ulysses. 19. But is it quite certain that any precise and determinate idea is here attached to the word action; or whether it be not used, sometimes to signify the subject of the poem, which is the cause of the actions described in it, and sometimes the actions themselves, which are the effects of that cause? 20. Questions of this kind are always best answered by examples; which at once explain the matter, and solve the doubts if they admit of solution. I shall therefore briefly compare the action of the Iliad with that of the tragedy of Macbeth; not because these two poems are justly esteemed to be the highest efforts of human genius; but because, in the one, unity CHAP. Of Judg ment. of action is supposed to be most strictly preserved; and in the other, most openly violated. 21. In the tragedy of Macbeth, there are evidently two distinct principal actions, the usurpation of Macbeth by the murder of Duncan, and the destruction of the usurper by the restoration of Malcolm; besides many subordinate or episodical actions; such as the murder of Banquo, of Macduff's family, &c. &c. 22. But are the actions of the Iliad at all less distinct, or less numerous ? Is not the quarrel of Agamemnon and Achilles one, the defeat and blockade of the Greeks another, the return of the Myrmidons and death of Hector another, besides innumerable subordinate actions, which result from these? Had the anger of Achilles with Agamemnon been the action of the poem, it must have ceased with their reconciliation; and then how lame and defective would have been the conclusion! The mighty and all-accomplished hero would have been introduced, with so much pomp of poetry, merely to wrangle with his prince, weep for his mistress, and carve a supper for three of his friends. Yet a German critic of more sense and learning, than feeling or sentiment, thinks that the original poem must have ended thus, since the unity of action requires it *. * Wolfii Prolegom. in Homer. Among Milton's hints for tragedies, it is proposed to render the action of Mac |