every incident which is admitted into his poem. The unexpected hifs which arifes in this episode, the dimenfions and bulk of Satan fo much fuperior to thote of the infernal spirits who lay under the fame transformation, with the annual change which they are fuppofed to fuffer, are inftances of this kind. The beauty of the diction is very remarkable in this whole epifode, as I have obferved in the fixth paper of these remarks the great judgment with which it was contrived. The parts of Adam and Eve, or the human perfons, come next under our confideration. Milton's art is no where more fhewn than in his conducting the parts of thefe our first parents. The reprefentation he gives of them, without falfifying the ftory, is wonderfully contrived to influence the reader with pity and compaffion towards them. Though Adam involves the whole fpecies in mifery, his crime proceeds from a weakness which every man is inclined to pardon and commiferate, as it seems rather the frailty of human nature, than of the perfon who offended. Every one is apt to excufe a fault which he himfelf might have fallen into. It was the excefs of love for Eve that ruined Adam and his pofterity. I need not add, that the author is juftified in this particular by many of the fathers, and the most orthodox writers. Milton has by this means filled a great part of his poem with that kind of writing which the French critics call the tender, and which is in a particular manner engaging to all forts of readers. Adam and Eve, in the book we are now confidering, are likewife drawn with fuch fentiments as do not only intereft the reader in their afflictions, but raife in him the moft melting paffions of humanity and commiferation. When Adam fees the feveral changes of nature produced about him, he appears in a diforder of mind fuitable to one who had forfeited both his innocence and his happiness; he is filled with horror, remorie, defpair; in the anguifh of his heart he expoftulates with his Creator for having given him an unafked exift ence. Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mou d me man? Did I folicit thee From darkness to promote me? or here place In this delicious garden? As my will 'Concurr'd not to my being, 'twere but right Wholefome and cool, and mild, but with black air Accompanied with damps and dreadful gloom; oft Curs'd his creation; death as oft accus'd Of tardy execution The part of Eve in this book is no lefs paflionate, and apt to fway the reader in her favour. She is reprefented with great tenderness as approaching Adam, but is fpurned from him with a fpirit of upbraiding and indignation, conformable to the nature of man, whofe paffions had now gained the dominion over him. The following paffage, where, in fhe is defcribed as renewing her addreffes to him, with the whole speech that follows it, have fomething in them exquifitely moving and pathetic: He added not, and from her turn'd: but Eve Not fo repuls'd, with tears that ceas'd not flowing, And treffes all diforder'd, at his feet Forfake me not thus, Adam! witness 'Heav'n • What love fincere, and rev'rence in my heart I bear thee, and unweeting have offended, Unhappily deceiv'd; thy fuppliant I beg, and clafp thy knees; bereave me not Whither fhall I betake me, where fubfift? While yet we live, fcarce one short hour perhaps, • Between us two let there be peace,' &c. Adam's reconcilement to her is work ed up in the fame fpirit of tenderness. Eve afterwards propofes to her husband, in the blindness of her defpair, that to prevent their guilt from defcending upon pofterity, they should refolve to live childlefs; or, if that could not be done, they fhould feek their own deaths by violent methods. As thofe fentiments naturally engage the reader to regard the mother of mankind with more than ordinary commiferation, they likewife contain a very fine moral. The refolution of dying to end our miferies, does not fhew fuch a degree of magnanimity as a refolution to bear them, and fubmit to the difpenfations of Providence. Our author has therefore, with great delicacy, reprefented Eve as entertaining this thought, and Adam as difapprov ing it. We are, in the laft place, to confider Sin, who act a large part in this book, the imaginary perfons, or Death and Such beautiful extended allegories are certainly fome of the finest compofitions of genius; but, as I have before obferv. ed, are not agreeable to the nature of an heroic poem. This of Sin and Death is very exquisite in it's kind, if The truths contained in it are fo clear not confidered as a part of fuch a work. and open, that I fhall not lofe time in that a reader who knows the strength explaining them; but shall only observe, of the English tongue, will be amazed to think how the poet could find fuch apt words and phrafes to defcribe the actions of those two imaginary persons, Death is exhibited as forining a bridge and particularly in that part where over the Chaos; a work fuitable to the genius of Milton. Since the fubje&t I am upon gives me an opportunity of fpeaking more at large of fuch fhadowy and imaginary perfons as may be introduced into heroic poems, I fhall beg leave to explain myself in a matter which is curious in it's kind, and which none of the critics have treated of. It is certain Homer and Virgil are full of imaginary persons, who are very beautiful in poetry when they are just fhewn without being engaged in any feries of action. Homer indeed reprefents Sleep as a perfon, and afcribes a fhort part to him in his Iliad ; but we must confider, that though we now regard fuch a perfon as entirely fhadowy and unfubftantial, the heathens made ftatues of him, placed him in their temples, and looked upon him as a real deity, When Homer makes use of other fuch allegorical perfons, it is only in fort expreffions, which convey an ordinary thought to the mind in the most pleafing manner, and may rather be looked upon as poetical phrafes, than allegorical defcriptions. Inttead of telling us that men naturally fly when they are terrified, he introduces the perfons of Flight and Fear, who, he tells us, are infeparable companions. Instead of faying that the time was come when Apollo ought to have received his recompence, he tells us, that the Hours brought him his reward. Inttead of defcribing the effects which Minerva's gis produced in battle, he tells us that the brims of it were encompassed by by Terror, Rout, Difcord, Fury, Purfuit, Maffacre, and Death. In the fame figure of fpeaking, he reprefents Victory as following Diomedes; Difcord as the mother of funerals and mourning; Venus as dreffed by the Graces; Bellona as wearing terror and confternation like a garment. I might give several other instances out of Homer, as well as a great many out of Virgil. Milton has likewife very often made ufe of the fame way of speaking, as where he tells us, that Victory fat on the right-hand of the Meffiah, when he marched forth against the rebel angels; that at the rifing of the fun, the Hours unbarred the gates of light; that Difcord was the daughter of Sin. Of the fame nature ate thofe expreffions, where defcribing the finging of the nightingale, he adds Silence was pleafed; and upon the Meffiah's bidding peace to the chaos Confufion heard his voice.' I might add innumerable inftances of our poet's writing in this beautiful figure. It is plain that thefe I have mentioned, in which perfous of an imaginary nature are introduced, are fuch fhort allegories as are not defigned to be taken in the literal fenfe, but only to convey particular circumitances to the reader, after an unufual and entertaining manner. But when fuch perfons are introduced as principal actors, and engaged in a feries of adventures, they take too much upon them, and are by no means proper for an heroic poem, which ought to appear credible in it's principal parts, I cannot forbear therefore thinking that Sin and Death are as improper agents in a work of this nature, as Strength and Neceffity in one of the tragedies of Afchylus, who represented thofe two perfons nailing down Prometheus to a rock, for which he has been juftly cenfured by the greatest critics. I do not know any imaginary perfon made use of in a more fublime manner of thinking than that in one of the prophets, who, defcribing God as defcending from heaven and vifiting the fins of mankind, adds that dreadful circumstance- Be fore him went the Pestilence.' It is certain this imaginary person might have been defcribed in all her purple fpots. The Fever might have marched before her, Pain might have stood at her right-hand, Phrenzy on her left, and Death in her rear. She might have been introduced as gliding down from the tail of a comet, or darted upon the earth in a flash of lightning: fhe might have tainted the atmosphere with her breath; the very glaring of her eyes might have scattered infection. But I believe every reader will think, that in fuch fublime writings the mentioning of her, as it is done in Scripture, has fomething in it more juit, as well as great, than all that the most fanciful poet could have beftowed upon her in the richness of his imagination. N° CCCLVIII. MONDAY, APRIL 21. L CHAR DESIPERE IN LOco. HOR. OD. XII. L. IV. V. ULT. 'TIS WISDOM'S PART SOMETIMES TO PLAY THE FOOL. HARLES Lilly attended me the other day, and made me a present of a large fheet of paper, on which is delineated a pavement in Mofaic work, lately difcovered at Stunsfield near Woodstock. A perfon who has fo much the gift of fpeech as Mr. Lilly, and can carry on a difcourfe without reply, had great opportunity on that occafion to expatiate upon fo fine a piece of antiquity. Among other things, I remember he gave me his opinion, which he drew from the ornaments of the work, that this was the floor of a room dedi cated to mirth and concord. Viewing this work, made my fancy run over the many gay expreffions I have read in ancient authors, which contained invitations to lay afide care and anxiety, and give a loose to that pleafing forgetfulnefs wherein men put off their characters of bufinefs, and enjoy their very felves. Thele hours were generally paffed in rooms adorned for that purpofe, and fet out in fuch a manner, as the objects all around the company gladdened their hearts; which, joined to the chearful looks of well-chefen and agree able 724 able friends, gave new vigour to the to fay fo, there are an hundred men fit ran into the streets, and frighted women It The writers of plays have what they call unity of time and place to give a juftness to their reprefentation; and it would not be amifs if all who pretend to be companions, would confine their action to the place of meeting: for a frolic carried farther may be better performed by other animals than men. is not to rid much ground, or do much mischief, that fhould denominate a pleafant fellow; but that is truly frolic which is the play of the mind, and confifts of various and unforced fallies of imagination. Feftivity of spirit is a very uncommon talent, and muft proceed from an affemblage of agreeable qualities in the fame perfon. There are fome few whom I think peculiarly happy in it; but it is a talent one cannot name in a man, especially when one confiders that it is never very graceful but where it is regarded by him who poffeffes it in the fecond place. The beft man that I know of for heightening the revel gaiety of a company, is Eftcourt, whofe jovial humour diffufes itfelf from the highest perfon at an entertainment to the ineaneft waiter. Merry tales, accompanied with apt geftures and lively reprefentations of circummind into a confent to be as humourous ftances and perfons, beguile the graveft as himself. Add to this, that when a man is in his good graces, he has a mimicry that does not debafe the person he reprefents; but which, taking from the gravity of the character, adds to the agreeablenefs of it. This pleafant fellow gives one fome idea of the ancient Pantomime, who is faid to have given the audience, in dumb-fhow, an exact idea idea of any character or paffion, or an intelligible relation of any public occur. rence, with no other expreffion than that of his looks and geftures. If all, who have been obliged to these talents in Eftcourt, will be at Love for Love to morrow night, they will but pay him what they owe him, at fo eafy a rate as being prefent at a play which nobody would omit feeing, that had, or had not ever feen it before. N° CCCLIX. TUESDAY, APRIL 22. TORVA LEENA LUPUM SEQUITUR, LUPUS IPSE CAPELLAM; THE GREEDY LIONESS THE WOLF PURSUES, THE WOLF THE KID, THE WANTON KID THE BROWSE. DRYDEN, T S we were at the club laft night, Will immediately, with his ufual flu A we were that my old friend sir ency, rambled into an account of his Roger, contrary to his ufual cuftom, fat very filent, and instead of minding what was faid by the company, was whittling to himself in a very thoughtful mood, and playing with a cork. I jogged Sir Andrew Freeport, who fat between us; and as we were both obferving him, we faw the knight fhake his head, and heard him fay to himself- A foolish woman! I cannot believe it.' Sir Andrew gave him a gentle pat upon the fhoulder, and offered to lay him a bottle of wine that he was thinking of the widow. My old friend started, and recovering out of his brown ftudy, told Sir Andrew that once in his life he had been in the right. In fhort, after fome little hesitation, Sir Roger told us in the fulness of his heart, that he had just received a letter from his steward, which acquainted him that his old rival and antagonist in the country, Sir David Dundrum, had been making a vifit to the widow. However,' fays Sir Roger, I can never think that the will have a man that is half a year older than I am, and a noted republican ⚫ into the bargain.' thou Will Honeycomb, who looks upon love as his particular province, interrupting our friend with a janty laughI thought, knight,' faid he, 'hadft lived long enough in the world, not to pin thy happiness upon one that is a woman and a widow. I think ⚫ that without vanity I may pretend to know as much of the female world as any man in Great Britain, though the chief of my knowledge confifts in this, that they are not to be known.' own amours. I am now,' fays he, upon the verge of fifty' (though by the way we all knew that he was turned of threefcore :) You may easily 'guefs,' continued Will, that I have not lived fo long in the world without having had fome thoughts of fettling in it, as the phrafe is. To tell you truly, I have feveral times tried my fortune that way, though I cannot much boast of my fuccefs. I made my firit addreffes to a young lady in the country; but when I thought things were pretty well drawing to a conclufion, her father happening to hear that I had formerly boarded with a furgeon, the old Put forbid me his houfe, and within a fortnight after married his daughter to a fox-hunter in the neighbourhood. I made my next application to a widow, and attacked her fo briskly, that I thought myfelf within a fortnight of her. As I waited upon her one morning, fhe told me, that the intended to keep her ready money and jointure in her own hand, and defired me to call upon her attorney in Lion's Inn, who would adjuft with me what it was proper for me to add to it. I was fo rebuffed by this overture, that I never enquired either for her or her attorney afterwards. < A few months after I addreffed myfelf to a young lady, who was an only daughter, and of a good family; I danced with her at feveral balls, fqueezed her by the hand, faid foft things to her, and in fhort made • no ་ |