❝and in the open sea the pilots, upon their decks, "observed the star of Orion. The travellers and the "watchmen slumbered. Even the grief of mothers "who had lost their children, was suspended by sleep. "In the cities there was neither heard the cry of dogs, (6 nor the noise nor murmur of men. Silence reigned "in the midst of darkness. Medea alone knew not "the charms of this peaceful night, so deeply was her "soul impressed with fears for Jason." Virgil describes a similar situation as follows: Nox erat, et placidum carpebant fessa soporem Quum tacet omnis ager: pecudes, pictaæque volucres, At non infelix animi Phænissa. "On voit ici (says M. Marmontel, with his usual "taste and discernment,) non seulement la superiorité "du talent, la vie, et l'ame repandues dans une pöesie "harmonieuse, et du coloris le plus pur, mais singulière"ment encore la superiorité du goût. Dans la peinture "du poëte Grec, il y a des details inutiles, il y en a des "contraires à l'effet du tableau. Les observations des "pilotes, dans de silence de la nuit, portent eux-mêmes "le caractère de la vigilance et de l'inquietude, et ne "contrastent point avec le trouble de Medée. L'image "d'une mere qui a perdu ses enfants est faite pour "distraire de celle d'une amante; elle en affoiblit "l'interét, et le poëte en la lui opposant, est allé contre "son dessein; au lieu que, dans le tableau de Virgile, "tout est réduit à l'unité. C'est la nature entière, "dans le calme et dans le sommeil, tandis que la "malheureuse Didon veille seule, et se livré en proie " à tous les tourments de l'amour. Enfin, dans le poëte "Grec, le cri des chiens, le sommeil des portiers, sont "des details minutieux et indignes de l'epopée, au lieu que dans Virgile tout est noble et peint à grands "traits: huit vers embrassent la nature."—Encyclopedie, voc. IMITATION. In these illustrations of the necessity of unity of expression, for the production of the emotions of sublimity and beauty, I have chiefly confined myself to such instances in poetry, as are descriptive of natural scenery, because they are most within the observation of that class of readers, to whom any illustrations of this point are necessary. The same principle extends, with equal force, to every other branch of poetical imitation, to the description of the characters, the sentiments, and the passions of men and one great source of the superiority which such imitations have over the originals from which they are copied, consists in these cases, as well as the former, in the power which the artist enjoys of giving an unity of character to his descriptions, which is not to be found in real nature. The illustration of this point, however, as well as of the general fact, that all such descriptions are defective, in which this unity is not preserved, I must leave to the reader's own observation. In the same view, I leave the consideration of the effect of contrast; a principle which may at first seem adverse to these conclusions, but which, in fact, is one of the strongest confirmations of them. The reader who is accustomed to such speculations, need not be reminded, that the real end of contrast is to strengthen the effect of the general emotion; that its propriety is determined by the nature of that emotion; that it is justly applied only in those cases, where the emotion is violent and demands relief, or faint and requires support, or longcontinued and needs repose; and that in all cases where it exceeds these limits, or where it does not serve to invigorate the character of the composition, it serves only to obstruct or to diminish its effect; and the reader to whom these principles are new, may find amusement in verifying them. IV. The unity of character which is thus demanded in poetical description, for the production of the emotions of taste, is demanded also in every species of poetical composition, whatever may be its extent. In describing the events of life, it is the business of the historian to represent them as they really happened; to investigate their causes, however minute; and to report the motives of the actors, however base or mean. In a poetical representation of such events, no such confusion is permitted to appear. A representation destined by its nature to affect, must not only be founded upon some great or interesting subject, but, in the management of this subject, such means only must be employed as are fitted to preserve, and to promote the interest and the sympathy of the reader. The historian who should relate the voyage of Æneas, and the foundation of Rome, must of necessity relate many trifling and uninteresting events, which could be valuable only from their being true. The poet who should attempt this subject, must introduce only pathetic or sublime events-must unfold their connexion with greater clearness-must point out their conse quences as of greater moment-and must spread over all that tone and character of dignity which we both expect and demand in a composition, destined to excite the sensibility, and to awaken the admiration of mankind. Even that species of poem which has been called by the critics the historical epic, and which is only a poetical narration of real events, is yet in some measure subjected to the same rule; and though we do not expect from it the sublime machinery, or the artful conduct of the real epic, we yet demand a more uniform tone of elevation, and a purer and more dignified selection of incidents, than from the strict narrative of real history. In both, the poet assumes the character of a person deeply impressed with the magnitude or the interest of the story he relates. To impress his reader with similar sentiments, is the end and object of his work; and he can no otherwise do this, than by presenting to his mind only such incidents as accord with these great emotions, by leaving out whatever in the real history of the event may be mean or uninteresting, and by the invention of every circumstance that, while it is consistent with probability, may raise the subject of his work into greater importance in his esteem. That it is by this rule accordingly the conduct of the epic poem is determined, is too obvious to require any illustration. The same unity of emotion is demanded in dramatic poetry, at least in the highest and noblest species of it, tragedy; and in the conduct of the drama, this unity of character is fully as essential as any of those three unities, of which every book of criticism is so full. If it is painful to us, when we are deeply engaged in some great interest, to turn our minds to the conside ration of some other event, it is fully as painful to us, in the midst of our admiration or our sympathy, and while our hearts are swelling with tender or with elevated emotions, to descend to the consideration of minute, or mean, or unimportant incidents, however naturally they may be connected with the story, or however much we may be convinced that they actually took place. The envy which Elizabeth entertained of the beauty of Mary of Scotland, was certainly one cause, and probably a great cause of the distresses of that most unfortunate Queen; but if a poet, in a tragedy founded upon her pathetic story, should introduce the scene which Melville describes in his memoirs, and in which the weakness of Elizabeth is so apparent, we should consider it both as degrading to the dignity of tragedy, and unsuited to the nature of the emotion which the story is fitted to raise. It is hence that tragicomedy is utterly indefensible, after all that has been said in its defence. If it is painful to us in such cases to descend to the consideration of indifferent incidents, it is a thousand times more painful to be forced to attend to those that are ludicrous; and there is no man of the most common sensibility, who does not feel his mind revolt, and his indignation kindle at the absurdity of the poet, who can thus break in upon the sacred retirement of his sorrow, with the intolerable noise of vulgar mirth. Had the taste of Shakspeare been equal to his genius, or had his knowledge of the laws of the drama corresponded to his knowledge of the human heart, the effect of his compositions would not only have been greater than it now is, but greater perhaps, than we can well imagine; and had he attempted to produce, through a whole composition, that powerful 522387 |