actors are Man in his greatest perfection, and Woman in her highest beauty. Their enemies are the Fallen Angels; the Messiah their friend, and the Almighty their protector. In short, every thing that is great in the whole circle of being, whether within the verge of nature, or out of it, has a proper part assigned it in this admirable Poem.

In poetry, as in architecture, not only the whole, but the principal members, and every part of them, should be great. I will not presume to say, that the book of games in the Æneid, or that in the Iliad, are not of this nature, or to reprehend Virgil's simile of the top, and many other of the same kind in the Iliad, as liable to any censure in this particular; but I think we may say, without derogating from these wonderful performances, that there is an indisputable and unquestioned magnificence in every part of Paradise Lost, and indeed a much greater than could have been formed upon any pagan system.

But Aristotle, by the greatness of the action, does not only mean that it should be great in its nature, but also in its duration, or in other words, that it should have a due length in it, as well as what we properly call greatness. The just measure of this kind of magnitude, he explains by the following similitude. An animal, no bigger than a mite, cannot appear perfect to the eye, because the sight takes it in at once, and has only a confused idea of the whole, and not a distinct idea of all its parts; if, on the contrary, you should suppose an animal of ten thousand furlongs in length, the eye would be so filled with a single part of it, that it could not give the mind an idea of the whole. What these animals are to the eye, a very short or a very long action would be to the memory. The first would be, as it were, lost and swallowed up by it, and the other difficult to be contained in it. Homer and Virgil have shewn their principal art in this particular; the action of the Iliad, and that of the Eneid, were in themselves exceeding short, but are so beautifully extended and diversified by the invention of episodes, and the machinery of gods, with the like poetical ornaments, that they make up an agreeable story, sufficient to employ the memory without overcharging it. Milton's action is enriched with such a variety of circumstances, that I have taken as much pleasure in reading the contents of his book, as in the best invented story I ever met

with. It is possible that the traditions, on which the Iliad and Eneid were built, had more circumstances in them, than the history of the Fall of Man, as it is related in Scripture. Besides, it was easier for Homer and Virgil to dash the truth with fiction, as they were in no danger of offending the religion of their country by it. But as for Milton, he had not only a very few circumstances upon which to raise his Poem, but was also obliged to proceed with the greatest caution in every thing that he added out of his own invention. And, indeed, notwithstanding all the restraint he was under, he has filled his story with so many surprising incidents, which bear so close an analogy with what is delivered in Holy Writ, that it is capable of pleasing the most delicate reader, without giving offence to the most scrupulous.

a

The modern criticks have collected, from several hints in the Iliad and Eneid, the space of time, which is taken up by the action of each of those poems; but, as a great part of Milton's story was transacted in regions that lie out of the reach of the sun and the sphere of day, it is impossible to gratify the reader with such a calculation, which indeed would be

b

a which bear so close an analogy with what is delivered in Holy Writ,] "It would not, I believe, be impossible, though the task might appear too invidious, to point out several incidents in Milton, that are so far from having a close analogy with what is delivered in Holy Writ, that in reality they have no analogy with it at all. And, setting aside this consideration, it is not easy to determine, how far invention, the poet's peculiar province, extends, when it is circumscribed by the Christian System. For it may be questioned, whether fiction is at all allowable, when the Divine Being is the subject of it." A Letter concerning Epick Poems, taken from Scripture History, Lond. 1764, p. 21. The writer of this Letter cites the remark of Gibbon, in his Essay on the Study of Literature. See the English edition, 1764, p. 23. "The Almighty Fiat of Moses strikes us with admiration; but reason cannot comprehend, nor imagination describe, the operations of a Deity, at whose command alone millions of worlds are made to tremble: nor can we read with any satisfactory pleasure of the Devil, in Milton, warring for two whole days in Heaven against the armies of the Omnipotent." TODD.

b which indeed would be more curious than instructive ;] The following account of the time, employed in the action of the Poem, is copied from a MS found among Sir Robert Walpole's Papers in bishop ATTERBURY's handwriting; and is printed in the 5th vol. of Atterbury's Epist. Correspondence, 1798, p. 191.

"The scene opens 18 days after the defeat of the rebellious Angels; for they

more curious than instructive; none of the criticks, either ancient or modern, having laid down rules to circumscribe the action

were nine days falling, and had lain nine days astonished on the burning lake, B. vi. 871, B. i. 50.

"What time was spent in the consultation of Devils, and Satan's voyage to the gates of Hell, and through Chaos, &c. till he alighted on the top of Mount Niphates, Milton no where intimates; and it is vain to measure that space: but he is said to have stopped on Mount Niphates at noon, B. iv. 30.

"He sees Adam and Eve towards evening, B. iv. 331, 355, 540, and 590. "That night he tempts Eve with a dream, and leaves Paradise just before day-light, B. iv. 1014, 1015.

"In the morning Adam and Eve wake, B. v. 1; and pay their adorations, B. v. 139; and then go to work, and return to their bower at noon, where Raphael then visits them, B. v. 300, 311, 369, 376. Raphael stays with them till evening, B. v. 376; and then departs, B. viii. 653.

"Satan returns at midnight, B. xi. 53, into Paradise on the eighth night after he parted from thence, B. ix. 63, 67, including the night of his departure, that is, the seventh night inclusive, after Raphael left Paradise.

"During the night he ranges Paradise, B. ix. 181; and enters the serpent, B. ix. 187.

"In the morning, B. ix. 192, Adam and Eve go out separately to their work. Eve is tempted, and about noon eats the forbidden fruit, B. ix. 739.

"That evening the Son comes down to Paradise to judge them, B. x. 53, 92, 95. Adam and Eve spend that night in mutual expostulations, and then in devotions.

"Next morning, B. xi. 135, 173, as they are going to their labour, Raphael', meets and stops them; and, after revealing to them what was to happen to them and their seed, drives them that evening out of Paradise.

"So that ten days and ten nights is the utmost extent of time during which the action of the Poem continues; except the time spent in Hell, and Satan's voyage from thence to Paradise; of which there is no account."

Dr. Newton further observes, that Satan fled from the Messiah's presence when he came down to judge Adam and Eve, and returned by night, B. x. 341. In his return to Hell, he meets Sin and Death in the morning, "while the sun in Aries rose," B. x. 329. After Sin and Death had arrived in Paradise, the Angels are commanded to make several alterations in the heavens and elements: and Adam is represented as lamenting aloud to himself " through the still night," B. x. 846. Adam is afterwards made to talk somewhat confusedly, in one place, as if it was still the day of the Fall, B. x. 962; and, in another place, as if it was some day after the Fall, B. x. 1050. And, having felt the cold damps of the night before, he is considering how they may provide themselves with some better warmth before another night comes, B. x. 1069. That other night must be supposed to be past, since the morning appears again "to re-salute the world with sacred light," B. xi. 134.

So that, according to this addition in the calculation, the morning of the Poem,

of an epick poem with any determined number of years, days, or hours.

Having examined the ACTION of Paradise Lost, let us in the next place consider the ACTORS. This is Aristotle's method of considering, first the FABLE, and secondly the MANNERS; or, as we generally call them in English, the FABLE and the CHA

RACTERS.

Homer has excelled all the heroick poets, that ever wrote, in the multitude and variety of his characters. Every god that is admitted into his poem, acts a part which would have been suitable to no other deity. His princes are as much distinguished by their manners, as by their dominions; and even those among them, whose characters seem wholly made up of courage, differ from one another as to the particular kinds of courage in which they excel. In short, there is scarce a speech or action in the Iliad, which the reader may not ascribe to the person who speaks or acts, without seeing his name at the head of it.

Homer does not only outshine all other poets in the variety, but also in the novelty, of his characters. He has introduced among his Grecian princes a person who had lived thrice the age of man, and conversed with Theseus, Hercules, Polyphemus, and the first race of heroes. His principal actor is the son of a goddess; not to mention the offspring of other deities, who have likewise a place in his poem, and the venerable Trojan prince, who was the father of so many kings and heroes. There is in these several characters of Homer a certain dignity, as well as novelty, which adapts them in a more peculiar manner to the nature of an heroick poem. Though at the same time, to give

B. xi. 135, commences the eleventh day of the action. "Addison," says Dr. Newton," reckons only ten days to the action of the Poem; that is, he supposes that our first Parents were expelled out of Paradise the very next day after the Fall; and indeed at first sight it appears so:" But the learned critick acutely adds, "With what propriety then could the sun's rising in Aries, when Satan met Sin and Death at the brink of Chaos, be mentioned, B. x. 329? and, if it was still the night after the Fall, how could Adam say, as he is represented saying, ere this diurnal star leave cold the night, B. x. 1069 ?" Dr. Newton however acknowledges, that Milton is not very exact in the computation of time; and that perhaps he affected some obscurity in this particular, not choosing to define, as the Scripture itself has not defined, how soon after the Fall it was that our first parents were driven out of Paradise. TODD.

them a greater variety, he has described a Vulcan, that is a buffoon among his gods, and a Thersites among his mortals.

Virgil falls infinitely short of Homer in the characters of his poem, both as to their variety and novelty. Æneas is, indeed, a perfect character; but as for Achates, though he is styled the hero's friend, he does nothing in the whole poem which may deserve that title. Gyas, Mnestheus, Sergestus, and Cloanthus, are all of them men of the same stamp and character: "Fortémque Gyan, fortémque Cloanthum."

There are indeed several natural incidents in the part of Ascanius; and that of Dido cannot be sufficiently admired. I do not see any thing new or particular in Turnus. Pallas and Evander are remote copies of Hector and Priam, as Lausus and Mezentius are almost parallels to Pallas and Evander. The characters of Nisus and Euryalus are beautiful, but common. must not forget the parts of Sinon, Camilla, and some few others, which are fine improvements on the Greek poet. In short, there is neither that variety, nor novelty, in the persons of the Eneid, which we meet with in those of the Iliad.

We

If we look into the CHARACTERS of Milton, we shall find that he has introduced all the variety his fable was capable of receiving. The whole species of mankind was in two persons at the time, to which the subject of his Poem is confined. We have, however, four distinct characters in these two persons. We see Man and Woman in the highest innocence and perfection, and in the most abject state of guilt and infirmity. The two last characters are, indeed, very common and obvious; but the two first are not only more magnificent, but more new, than any characters either in Virgil or Homer, or indeed in the whole circle of

nature.

Milton was so sensible of this defect in the subject of his Poem, and of the few characters it would afford him, that he has brought into it two actors of a shadowy and fictitious nature, in the persons of Sin and Death; by which means he has wrought into the body of his fable, a very beautiful and well-invented allegory. But, notwithstanding the fineness of this allegory may atone for it in some measure, I cannot think that persons of such a chimerical existence are proper actors in an epick poem; because there is not that measure of probability annexed to them, which is re