in bis fall, ver. 475; was in great peace of thought, ver. 558; and Eve herself not sad but full of consolation, ver. 620. Why then does this distich dismiss our first parents in anguish, and the reader in melancholy? And how can the expression be justified, with wand'ring steps and slow? Why wand'ring & Erratic steps? Very improper: when in the line before, they they were guided by Providence. And why slow? when even Eve professed her readiness and alacrity for the journey: v. 614. -but now lead on; In me is no delay. And why their solitary way? All words to represent a sorrowful parting? when even their former walks in Paradise were as solitary, as their way now; there being no body besides them two both here and there. Shall I therefore, after so many prior presumptions, presume at last to offer a distich, as close as may be to the author's words, and entirely agreeable to his scheme? Then hand in hand with social steps their way Through Eden took, with heav'nly comfort chear'd. Bentley. As the poem closes with these two verses, so Dr. Bentley finishes his labour with remarks upon them. He observes that Mr. Addison declared for ejecting them both out of the poem; and supposes him to be induced to this by a mistake of the printer They band in band: which reading (the Doctor thinks) makes the last distich seem loose, unconnected, and abscinded from the rest. But Mr. Addison was too good a judge of Milton's way of writing, to eject them upon that account only. He gave us another reason for his readiness to part with them, and said that they renew in the mind of the reader that anguish, which was pretty well laid by the consideration of the two foregoing verses. But it has been said more justly by another gentleman (who seems well qualified to give a judgment in the case) that considering the moral and chief design of this poem, Terror is the last passion to be left upon the mind of the reader. Essay on Pope's Odyssey, Part 2. p. So. However this be, the Doctor's reason for keeping these two verses is extraordinary: he says that unless they are kept, Adam and Eve would be left in the territory and suburbane of Paradise, in the very view of the dreadful faces: and he adds that they must therefore be dismissed out of Eden, to live thenceforward in some other part of the world. And yet both in the common reading, and in the Doctor's too, they are left in Eden, only taking their way sbrough it. But this is by the by. Let us see how the Doctor would mend the matter; and then I will give my objections to his reading, and afterwards answer his objection to Milton's. He proposes to read thus, Then hand in hand with social steps their way Through Eden took, with heav'nly comfort chear'd. To this reading we may object, that the verb wants the word they before it; for it is too far to fetch it from ver. 645, when two verses of a quite different construction are inserted between. Again, cbear'd with comfort seems tautologous, for comfort is implied in chear'd, without its being mentioned. Lastly, if they went band in band, there is no need to tell us, that their steps were social; they could not be otherwise. So much for the Doctor's reading. We are now to consider the objections which the Doctor makes to the present reading. It contradicts (says he) the poet's own scheme, and the diction is not unexceptionable. With regard to the diction, he asks, Why were the steps wand'ring ones, when Providence was their guide? But it might be their guide, without pointing out to them which way they should take at every step: The words Providence their guide signify, that now since Michael, who had hitherto conducted them by the hand, was departed from them, they had no guide to their steps, only the general guidance of Providence to keep them safe and unhurt. Eve (it is is plain) expected that her steps would be wan'dring ones, when upon being told that she was to leave Paradise, she breaks out into these words, xi. 282. How shall I part? and whither wander down Into a lower world? Again the Doctor asks, Why slow steps; when Eve professed her readiness and alacrity for the journey, ver. 614! But that readiness was not an absolute one, it was a choosing rather to go than to stay behind there without Adam, ver. 615, &c. In that view she was ready to go: but in the view of leaving the delights of Paradise, they were both backward and even linger'd, ver. 638. Their steps were therefore slow. And why (says the Doctor) is their way called solitary, when their walks in Paradise were as solitary as their way now, there being no body besides them two both here and there? It may be answered, that their way was solitary, not in regard to any companions, whom they had met with elsewhere; but because they were here to meet with no objects of any kind that they were acquainted with: Nothing here was familiar to their eyes, and (as Adam, then in Paradise, well expresses it in xi. 305.) -all places else Inhospitable appear, and desolate (And may we not by solitary understand farther their being now left by the Angel?) The last, but the main objection which the Doctor makes, is, that this distich contradicts the poet's own scheme. To support this charge, he has referred us to half a dozen places of this twelfth book, where Adam and Eve are spoken of, as having joy, peace, and consolation, &c. and from thence he concludes that this distich ought not to dismiss our first parents in anguish, and the reader in melancholy. But the joy, peace, and consolation spoken of in those passages are represented always as arising in our first parents from a view of some future good, chiefly of the Messiah. The thought of leaving Paradise (notwithstanding any other comfort that they had) was all along a sorrowful one to them. Upon this account Eve "fell asleep, wearied with sorrow and distress of heart," ver. 613. Both Adam and Eve "linger'd" at their quitting Paradise, ver. 638, and they "dropt some natural tears" on that occasion, ver. 645. In this view the Arch-Angel, ver. 605, recommends to our first parents that they should live "unanimous though sad with cause for evils past.' And for a plainer proof that the scheme of the poem was to dismiss them not without sorrow; the poet in xi. 117 puts these words into God's mouth as his instruction to Michael. So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace. Pearce. These two last verses have occasioned much trouble to the critics, some being for rejecting, others for altering, and others again for transposing them: but the propriety of the two lines, and the design of the author, are fully explained and vindicated in the excellent note of Dr. Pearce. And certainly there is no more necessity that an epic poem should conclude happily, than there is that a tragedy should conclude unhappily. There are instances of several tragedies ending happily; and with as good reason an epic poem may terminate fortunately or unfortunately, as the nature of the subject requires: and the subject of Paradise Lost plainly requires something of a sorrowful parting, and was intended no doubt for terror as well as pity, to inspire us with the fear of God as well as with commiseration of Man. All therefore that we shall add is to desire the reader to observe the beauty of the numbers, the heavy dragging of the first line, which cannot be pronounced but slowly, and with several pauses, They hand in hand, | with wand'ring steps and slow, and then the quicker flow of the last verse with only the usual pause in the middle, Through Eden took their solitary way; as if our parents had moved heavily at first, being loath to leave their delightful Paradise, and afterwards mended their pace, when they were at a little distance. At least this is the idea that the numbers convey; and as many volumes might be composed upon the structure of Milton's verses, and the collocation of his words, as Erythræus and other critics have written upon Virgil. We have taken notice of several beauties of this kind in the course of these remarks, and particularly of the varying of the pauses, which is the life and soul of all versification in all languages. It is this chiefly which makes Virgil's verse better than Ovid's, and Milton's superior to any other English poet's: and it is for want of this chiefly that the French heroic verse has never, and can never come up to the English. There is no variety of numbers, but the same pause is preserved exactly in the same place in every line for ten or ten thousand lines together: and such a perpetual repetition of the same pause, such an eternal sameness of verse must make any poetry tedious, and either offend the ear of the reader, or lull him asleep and this in the opinion of several French writers themselves. There can be no good poetry without music, and there can be no music without variety. The number of the books in Paradise Lost is equal to those of the Æneid. Our author in his first edition had divided his poem into ten books, but afterwards broke the seventh and the tenth each of them into two different books, by the help of some small additions, This second division was made with great judgment, as any one may see, who will be at the pains of examining it. It was not done for the sake of such a chimerical beauty as that of resembling Virgil in this particular, but for the more just and regular disposition of this great work. Those who have read Bossu, and many of the critics who have written since his time, will not pardon me if I do not find out the particular moral which is inculcated in Paradise Lost. Though I can by no means think, with the last mentioned French author, that an epic writer first of all pitches upon a certain moral, as the ground-work and foundation of his poem, and afterwards finds out a story to it: I am however of opinion, that no just heroic poem ever was or can be made, from whence one great moral may not be deduced. That which reigns in Milton, is the most universal and most useful that can be imagined; it is in short this, "That, obedience to the will of God, makes men happy, and that disobedience makes them miserable." This is visibly the moral of the principal fable, which turns upon Adam and Eve, who continued in Paradise, while they kept the command that was given them, and were driven out of it as soon as they had transgressed. This is likewise the moral of the principal episode, which shows us how an innumerable multitude of Angels fell from their state of bliss, and were cast into Hell upon their disobedience. Besides this great moral, which may be looked upon as the soul of the fable, there are an infinity of under morals, which are to be drawn from the several parts of the poem, and which make this work more useful and instructive than any other poem in any language. Those who have criticised on the Odyssey, the Iliad, and Æneid, have taken a great deal of pains to fix the number of months and days contained in the action of each of those poems. If any one thinks it worth his while to examine this particular in Milton, he will find that from Adam's first appearance in the fourth book, to his expulsion from Paradise in the twelfth, the author reckons ten days. As for that part of the action which is described in the three first books, as it does not pass within the regions of nature, I have before observed that it is not subject to any calculations of time. I have now finished my observations on a work which does honour to the English nation. I have taken a gene ral view of it under these four heads, the fable, the characters, the sentiments, and the language, and made each of them the subject of a particular paper. I have in the next place |