R SKETCH XI. OF ENGLISH VERSE. HYME, we have often been told, is a modern invention; though, if that was a crime, it might perhaps be proved to be not fo very modern either. It is reckoned a barbarous one by fome pedants; who finding, I fuppofe, from the opinion of better judges than themfelves, that it is abominable in Greek and Latin, conclude that it must not be lefs fo in French and in English. The contrary is evident to every one that has ears, and dares think for himself: for in English, rhyme is capable of much harmony; and the French can have no verfification without it. But fome people, who ought to know better, feem to make no allowance for the original deference between one language and another; and are ready to quarrel with the English as a barbarous language, because it is not Latin or Greek. They do not confider, that every language has powers and graces peculiar to itfelf, and that what is becoming in one would be quite ridicu Tous in another. Of this it is fufficient to produce one obvious example; the tranfpofition of words, which gives fuch a grace and spirit to the Greek and Latin languages, and without which they would become deteftably flat and infipid, does not at all fuit the genius of the Englifh; except fometimes in poetry: and, by the way, I am afraid there are too many ungraceful tranfpofitions current amongst our English poets. But it is not only a few obfcure pedants who are thus diffatisfied with their mother-tongue; and would be glad for it's improvement to torture it from it's native fhape, fome into Latin, and others into French: for attempts of this nature have been actually made by men of fuperior note. Sir Philip Sidney, who, otwithstanding his affected manner, mu't be allowed to have poffeifed a great Thare of genius, would every now and then fpur up his galiant English into a mot unbecoming ridiculous trot after the Greek and Latin hexameters. It is certumly impofiible to introduce the Greek and Latin meafures into English pocty with any fuccefs; yet Sir Philip was fond of this project, and purfued it with a trange obftinacy. He rec.m mended it to Spenfer; but Spenser had too true an ear to relifh fuch aukward unnatural verfification, or countenance it by his example. At least there is nothing remains of him to fhew that he ever practifed it. There have been at tempis made since to the fame purpofe by Milton and feme later authors. But there never was any thing feen to ungraceful, or so despicably pedantic, as all effays of that kind which have hitherto appeared. I do not know that it has ever yet been tried, except by Milton in fome parts of his Samton; but of all the Greek or Latin meatures, the lambie feems the mott capable of being adopted into the English poetry. I have either read or heard that a poet of the last century, whom I shall not name, because I am not perfectly fure of the fact, pretended to fome fecrets in verification, which he did not chufe to communicate. If it was fo, it fhewed a jealouly unworthy of fo great a master of numbers: he might fafely enough, for his own fuperiority, have published thofe fecrets, whatever they were; for it is impoffible they could ever be of much ufe. He could easily advife you to vary your paufes, and tell you which are the moft graceful: but these and all fuch precepts are nothing to the purpofe; a good ear will naturaly produce harmony without the leaft regard or attention to rules; and there is no cure for a bad one. The only way to improve the ear, whether good or bad, is to accuf tom it to the most harmonious writing. Blank verfe admits of a greater variety of paufes than rhyme, and is partly for that reason the fittest for works of any confiderable length. But in Erglith poet. y I question whether it is poffible, with any fuccefs, to write odes, epistles, elegies, paftor Is, or fatires, without rhyme. And it happens luckily, that in there fhort pieces the ear has not time to be tired with the return of the chimes: which, in my humble opinion, had better fometimes play a little falfe to one another than be for ever fcrupulonfly exact; provided fuch licences never fhock the ear. It does not require a very exquifite ear to write two fmooth or even harmonious lines running: yet in rhyme, a poet, who is always very careful to polifh his couplet, may pafs with the multitude for a great mafter in verlification. But as long as his harmony is confined within fuch narrow bounds, he writes but like a fchool-boy, who keeps in the line only with the help of ruled paper. Dr. Swift and Mr. Pope took offence, one does not know why, at the triplet, and very rarely condefcended to admit it into their verfe. It is true, it had been used to a naufeous excels by fome taftelefs writers; and Mr. Pope's own imitation of Rochefter might justly enough give him a difguft to the triplet for his whole life. Yet it contributes ot a little to the grace of Dryden's verfification: and I can fee no reason why it fhould be prohibited now; as it gives a variety to the numbers, which in rhyme are fufficiently limited to require fuch a help: befides, it may often be in your power, by it's means, to comprefs within three lines what must otherwise ftraggle into four, and of courfe become languid and fpiritlefs. Variety is the foul of verfification; and the march of the lines ought to be adapted to the fubject. The measure is the fame in both; but had Horace wrote his epiftles or fatires in the fame kind of numbers with Virgil's Æneid, it would have been a monstrous impropriety; like hunting the fox or hare on a war-horie, with the equipage of a general at a review, or on the day of battle. He knew very well that, in familiar writing, dig. nity of verfification would be quite ridiculous. Accordingly in thofe parts his numbers are loofe, rambling, and often almott profaic. But in his most carelcfs and licentious periods he feldom or never hurts the ear: and as often as there is 2ny thing great in his fentiment, his expreffion and numbers rife in proportion, and furtain themfelves with a native unaffecti dignity; till without falling he defcen is on eafy and dextrous wings to the familiar again. It does not feem quite foreign to the present fubjest to take fome notice of a certain French a thor, who, after having given it as his opinion, that Mr. Pope is the most barmonious of all the English poets, adds, with a very plausible affurance, that he has reduced the sharp bifings of the English trumpet to the fweet jounds of the flute *. It is no great wonder, that one who is apt to write much ap random, fhould prefume to talk to contemptuoufly of a manly, an elegant, and harmonious language, with which he plainly appears to have but a very fuperficial acquaintance. But who ever talked before of the biffings of a trumpet or of harp biffings? We have all heard of the boarse trumpet, but the biffing trumpet is an inftrument with which we are not yet acquainted. However, to pass thefe little improprieties, this compliment to Mr. Pope thews how well this critic is qualified to pronounce fentence upon the English poets. No one is more fenfible than I am of Mr. Pope's merit; but his blindeft admirer might ftartle at the preference bestowed upon him here. For, not to mention the great names of Spenfer, Shakespeare, and Milton, upon fuch an occafion; let us only compare Mr. Pope in this point of view with a writer upon whom, as they fay, he formed himfelf, and whom not only in his own opinion, but in that of many others, he is thought to have excelled in the art of verfifying. It is almost needlefs, after this, to fay that I mean Dryden; whofe verfification I take to be the moft mufical that has yet appeared in rhyme. Round, fweet, pompous, fpirited, and various; it flows with fuch a happy volubility,such an animated and maiterly negligence, as I am afraid will not foon be excelled. From the fineness of his ear, his profe too is perhaps the sweetest, the most mellow and generous, that the English language has yet produced. Had Mr. Voltaire known as much of the English poets as he pretends to do, he might have found fomething like the fweet found of the flute in Mr. Waller; who wrote before Mr. Pope was born. Mr. Voltaire, before he prefumed to compare the Englim poets, theuld have known, that before Mr. Walier ap peared, there was one Edmund Spenter a poet, whofe verfe was not merely in dolently fmooth, but spirited also and harmonious. And if Mr. Voltaire was Mr. Pope-Fft, je crois, le poete le plus elegant, le plus correct, et ce qui est encore beaucoup, le plus harmonieux qu'ait en l'Angletenie. Il a reduit les fifflemens aigres de la grompere Angloife au fons doux de la fute, VOLTAIRE Lettres fur les Anglois. a perfec a perfect and a candid judge in this cafe, he would own, that there was more harmony in many of the English poets -much more than the French language T can attain to, or an ear debauched by. the French versification is capable of relishing. SKETCH XII. OF THE VERSIFICATION OF, ENGLISH TRAGEDY. HE greateft part of our modern writers of Tragedy feem to think it enough to write mere blank verfe; no matter however hard it be, however void of fwelling and harmony. Even thofe of them who write the best numbers, Audy to be folemn and pompous throughout, and affect a monotomy of heroic Verfification, from the first appearance of the heroine with her confidante, to her laft fatal exit; without the least regard to the variety of paffions, which exprefs themselves in quick or flow, flowing or interrupted, in languifling or impetuous movements. The proper Verfification of English Tragedy is molt certainly blank verfe; but as different from the folemn and majeftic movement of heroic poetry as the Iambic is from the Hexameter. What a monstrous production would a Greek or Latin tragedy in hexameter verfe appear! The ancients found the grave Iambic their proper meafure for tragedy; as it is at the fame time capable of all the dignity which that kind of poem requires, and defcends with the greatest eafe to the level of profe and converfation. Such as is the Iambic in Latin, is blank verfe in English: but by no means the blank verfe of Paradife Loft. The numbers ought to be accommodated to the paffion: and though in fome parts of tragedy it is proper they fhould be flow, or folemn, or languishing, they ought for the most part to run fomewhat rambling and irregular; and often rapid and fubfultory, fo as to imitate the natural cadence and quick turns of converfation. Shakespeare, who I will venture to fay had the moft musical ear of all the English poets, is abundantly irregular in his Verification: but his wildeft licences feldom hurt the ear; on the con trary, they give his verfe a fpirit and variety, which prevents it's ever cloying. Our modern tragedy-writers, in-, tead of ufing the advantages of their own language, feem in general to imitate the monotony of the French Verfification: and the only licence they ever venture upon, is that poor tame one, the fpernumerary fyllable at the end of a line; which they are apt to manage in fuch a manner as to give their verfe a moft ungraceful halt. But it is not want of ear alone which makes ou common manufacturers of tragedy 15 intipidly folemn and fo void of harmony: it is want of feeling. For let the ear be what it will, if the paffions are warmly felt, they will naturally exprefs themfeives in their proper tones. Tragedy requires a greater variety of numbers than any other poetical productions; as it is the most agitated with different paffions. The march of every poem of any confiderable length, but chiefly of tragedy, ought to retumble the courfe of a river through a large extent of country diverfified with plains, hills, and mountains. The stream, according as the ground lies through which it flows, is either flow, fmooth, and folemn; or brifk and sportful; or rapid, impetuous, and precipitate. Such and fo various ought to be the Verification of tragedy; inftead of that tiff affected importance of movement, which is now abfurdly and aukwardly fupparted through the whole course of these fu lime performances. But befides this ftudied dignity; this inflexible gravity of pace; this unvaried exactness of measure without spirit or harmony; this immoveable hardness and want of fluctuation in the lines; there is no language fo unnatural as that you meet with in most of our modern tragedies. The characters they reprefent are too heroic, it would feem, and too much exalted above common life, to fpeak after the manner of men. The misfortune is, most of our tragedy: writers labour with all their might, and keep themfelves perpetually upon the rack, to fay every thing poetically: for it never enters into their head, that the most natural is the most poetical way of faying common things; except fometimes where you can properly raise your expreffion by an eafy metaphor. Let the fentiments be fuch as beft fuit the character and fituation, and they cannot be expreffed with too much plainnefs and fimplicity, provided all vulgarifms are as much as poffible avoided. As to the Characters; if it was not for a very few exceptions, one would think the art of drawing them was loft amongst our dramatic writers. Thofe that appear in most of our modern plays, T tragedies call them, or comedies, are like bad portraits; which indeed reprefent the human features, but without life or meaning; or thofe diftinguishing ftrokes which, in the incomparable Hogarth, and in every great hiftory painter, make you imagine you have feen fuch perfons as appear in the picture. In short, thofe mechanical performances are as imperfect as unnatural representations of human life, of the manners and paffions of mankind, as the Gothic knights which lie along in armour in the Temple church are of the human figure. SKETCH XIII. OF IMITATION. HE humble vanity, as one may call it, of imitating another perfon's manner, is one great fource of affectation; which is generally ridiculous, and always difagreeable. A perfon whofe natural turn is genteel. if he keeps good company, will infenfibly acquire as much of their manner as becomes him; but if he fets up any one as a pattern to be exactly imitated, his behaviour will grow constrained, ftiff, and affected. Such will be the conftant fuccefs of fo abfurd an attempt to confine the variety of nature; which plainly intends that mankind fhould be diftin guishable one from another by their air, voice, and manner, no lefs than by their faces. A poet, a painter, or a player, that imitates clofely, will never excel; and this will hold good in every thing elfe that belongs to genius. It is true, that education and ftudy are neceflary to the improvement of genius: but to this purpole it is fufficient to be familiarly ac quainted with the greatest masters; and the earlier in life the better. By this reans, if you delight in them, and have any fimilarity with them, you will catch their graces without affecting it; and your own original characteristical manner will fill diftinguish itself. But if you study to form yourself upon them, you become only a copy of a copy. The greatest of them excel by their happy fkill in copying nature and if you content yourself with fervilely copy ing them, without drawing immediately from the common fubject nature; you will always be inferior to your ori ginal, and have no chance ever to produce any thing great or striking. In the mean time, I do not imagine that true genius was ever much hurt by imitating. For though it is natural for young people to imitate a favourite author at firit, it is not probable that true genius will fubmit to be fo fettered long. SKETCH XIV. OF WRITING TO THE TASTE OF THE AGE. WHATEVER fome have pre who, with the advantages of leifure and WHATEVER fome baionably caly circumftances, is capable of pro enough doubt whether ever an author wrote much below himself from any cause but the neceffity of writing too fait. When this happens to a writer ducing fuch works as might charm fucceeding ages, it is a difgrace to the nation and the times wherein fuch a genius had the misfortune to appear. It belongs to true genius to indulge it's own humour; to give a loose to it's own fallies; and to be curbed, restrained, and directed, by that found judgment alone which neceffarily attends it. It belongs to it to improve and correct the public tafte; not to humour or meanly proftitute itself to the grofs or low tafte which it finds. And you may depend upon it, that whatever author labours to accommodate himself to the taste of his age-fuppofe it, if you please, this prefent age-the fickly wane, the impotent decline of the eighteenth century; which from a hopeful boy became a most infignificant man; and, for any thing that appears at prefent, will die a very fat drowfy blockhead, and be damned to eternal infamy and contempt: every fuch author, I fay, though he may thrive as far as an author can in the prefent age, will by degrees languifh into obfcurity in the next. For though naked and bare faced vanity; though an active exertion of little arts, and the moft unremitting perfeverance in them; though party, cabal, and intrigue; though accidental advantages, and even whimsical circumstances; may confpire to make a very moderate genius the idol of the implicit multitude: works that lean upon fuch fickle props, that stand upon fuch a falfe foundation, will not be long able to fupp rt themselves against the injuries of time. Such buildings begin to totter almoft as foon as their feaffolding is ftruck. But if you find it neceffary to comply with the humour of your age, the writing belt calculated to pleafe a falfe tafte, is what has fomething of the air of good writing, without being really fo. For to the vulgar eye the fpecious is more triking than the genuine. The belt writing is apt to be too plain, too fimple, too unaffected, and too delicate, to fir the callous organs of the generality of critics, who fee nothing but the tawdry glare of tinfel; and are deaf to every thing but what is fhockingly noify to a true car. They are ftruck with the fierce glaring colours of Old Frank; with attitudes and expreffions violent, dittorted, and unnatural: while the true, juit and eafy, the graceful, the moving, the fublime reprefentations of Raphael, have not the leaft power to attract them. The bullying, noify march in Judas Macchabeus, has perhaps more fincers admirers than that most pathetic one in Saul: and in converfation pertnefs and mere vivacity is more felt by the general run of company than eafy unaffected wit; as fafhy, bouncing, flatulent cyder, boafts of more fpirit than the ftill vigour of referved Madeira. But the eafieft, as well as the most effectual, way of writing to the bad talte of your age, is to fet out while your genius is yet upon a level with it. Ac cordingly, if you have a fon who begins to difplay a hopeful bloom of imagination, be fure to publifh, with all the advantages that can be procured, the very firit effays of his genius, They will hardly be too good to please; and, befides, they have a chance to be received with particular favour and admiration, as the productions of a young mufe. When he has thus taken pos feffion of the public ear, he may venture, as his genius ripens, to do his beft; he may write as well as he can, perhaps without much danger of finking in reputation. The renown of his firtt crude effays will be fufficient to prejudice the mobility, great and fmall, in favour of the most exquifite pieces he can produce afterwards. But if he mutt live by his wit, the best thing you can do for him is to transplant him, as early as poflible, to Paris; where, in the worft of days, in the muft Gothic mufe-detefting age, there is ftill fome fhelter afforded to the most delicate as well as the most uncommon flower that bloffoms in the human mind. In that gay, ferene, and genial climate, the Mufes are ftill more or lefs cultivated, though not with the fame ardour and paffion in every age; as appears from the following paffage tranflated from a French author, who wrote about the beginning of the prefent century. Almoft all the arts have in their turns experienced that difgut and love of change which is natural to mankind. But I 'don't know that any one of them has felt it more than Poetry; which in fome ages has been exalted to a triumphal heighth, in others negle&ted, difcouraged, and defpifed. About fixty years ago, under the adminiftration of one of the greatest genivies that ever * Defenfe de la Puefie; par M. l'Abbé Meffieu. Memoires de Literature, Tome 2de. • France |