file, because it is that part of him in which he appears the moft finguThe remarks I have here made upon the practice of other poets, with my obfervations out of Ariftotle, will perhaps alleviate the prejudice which fome have taken to his poem upon this account; tho' after all, I muft confefs, that I think his ftile, tho' admirable in general, is in fome places too much tiffened and obfcured by the frequent ufe of thofe methods, which Ariftotle has prescribed for the raifing of it.

This redundancy of those feve ral 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, becaufe his poem is written in blank verfe. Rime without any other affiftance, 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 of expreffion, are indifpenfably neceffary to fupport the ftile, and keep it from falling into the flatness of profe.

Those who have not a tafte 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 used 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 VOL. I.

feveral elifions, that are not cu ftomary among other English poets, as may be particularly obferved in his cutting off the letter Y, when it precedes a vowel. This, and fome other innovations in the meafure of his verse, 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 these 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 copiousness of his phrafes, and the running of his verfes into one another.

I HAVE now confider'd Milton's Paradife Loft under those 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 several discoveries which may appear new, even to those who are verfed in critical learning. Were I indeed to choose my readers, by whose judgment I would ftand or fall, they should 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 verfed 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. I

It

It is in criticism, 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 also a clear and logical head. Without this talent he is perpetually puzzled and perplexed amidst his own blunders, mistakes the sense 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. Ariftotle, who was the best critic, was also one of the best logicians that ever appeared in the world.

Mr. Lock's Effay on Human Understanding would be thought a very odd book for a man to make himfelf master 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 art of diftinguishing between words and things, and of ranging his thoughts, and fetting them in proper lights, whatever notions he may have, will lofe himself in confufion and obfcurity. I might further obferve, that there is not a

Greek or Latin critic who has not fhown, even in the stile of his criticifms, that he was a master of all 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 those who have endevored to fignalize themselves by works of this nature among our English writers, are not only defective in the abovementioned particulars, but plainly dif cover 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 moft judicious and formidable critic.

One great mark, by which you may difcover a critic who has neither tafte nor learning, is this, that he feldom ventures to praise 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 thofe two celebrated lines,

Errors,

A true critic ought to dwell rather 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 moft exquifite words and fineft 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 undistinguishing critic generally attacks with the greateft violence. Tully obferves, that it is very easy 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 illnatured criticism. 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 fubject, is dull and ftupid,

but one who fhows 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 gives him an opportunity of exerting 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 these 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 must also observe 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 fcrupulously exact and conformable to all the rules of correct writing.

I shall conclude my paper with a ftory out of Boccalini, which fufficiently fhows us the opinion that judicious author entertained of the fort of critics I have been here mentioning. 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.

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order

order to this, he fet before him a fack of wheat as it had been juft threshed out of the fheaf. He then bid him pick out the chaff from among the corn, and lay it afide by itself. The critic applied himfelf to the task with great induftry and pleasure, 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 feveral 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 event of it is unhappy.

The fable of every poem is according to Ariftotle's divifion 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 moft perfect; I fuppofe, because it is more proper to stir up the paffions of the reader, and to surprise him with a greater variety of accidents.

The implex fable is therefore of two kinds: In the firft the chief actor makes his way through a long series 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 ftate of innocence and happiness into the most abject condition of fin and forrow.

The moft taking tragedies among the Ancients were built on this laft fort of implex fable, particularly the tragedy of dipus, which proceeds upon a ftory, if we may believe Ariftotle, the most proper for tragedy that could be invented by the wit of 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 firft kind; notwithstanding many excellent pieces among the Ancients, as well as moft of those which have been written of late years in our own country, are raised upon contrary plans. I muft however own, that I think this kind of fable, which is the most perfect in tragedy, is not so 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 ofspring triumphing over his great enemy, and himself 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