Chapter 3

There are certain forms and etiquettes in life, which, though the neglect of them does not amount to the commission of a crime, or the violation of a duty, are yet so established by example, and sanctioned by custom, as to pass into Statutes, equally acknowledged by society, and almost equally binding to individuals, with the laws of the land, or the precepts of morality. A man guilty of breaking these, though he cannot be transported for a felon, or indicted for treasonable practices, is yet, in the High Court of Custom, branded as a flagrant offender against decorum, as notorious for an unprecedented infringement on propriety.

There is no race of men on whom these laws are more severe than Authors; and no species of Authors more subject to them, than Periodical Essayists. _Homer_ having prescribed the form, or to use a more modern phrase, _set the fashion_ of _Epic Poems_, whoever presumes to deviate from his plan, must not hope to participate his dignity: And whatever method, _The Spectator_, _The Guardian_, and others, who first adopted this species of writing, have pursued in their undertaking, is set down as a rule for the conduct of their followers; which, whoever is bold enough to transgress, is accused of a deviation from the original design, and a breach of established regulation.

It has hitherto been customary for all Periodical Writers, to take some opportunity, in the course of their labours, to display their Critical abilities, either by making observations on some popular Author, and work of known character, or by bringing forth the performances of hidden merit, and throwing light on genius in obscurity. To the critiques of _The Spectator_, _Shakespear_, and more particularly, _Milton_, are indebted, for no inconsiderable share of the reputation, which they now so universally enjoy; and by his means were the ruder graces, and more simple beauties of _Chevy Chace_ held up to public view, and recommended to general admiration.

I should probably be accused of swerving from the imitation of so great an example, were not I to take occasion to shew that I too am not entirely destitute of abilities of this kind; but that by possessing a decent share of critical discernment, and critical jargon, I am capable of becoming a very tolerable commentator. For the proof of which, I shall rather prefer calling the attention of my readers to an object as yet untreated of by any of my immediate predecessors, than venture to throw in my observations on any work which has before passed the ordeal of frequent examination. And this I shall do for two reasons; partly, because were I to choose a field, how fertile soever, of which many others had before me been reaping the fruits, mine would be at best but the gleanings of criticism; and partly, from a more interested view, from a selfish desire of accumulated praise; since, by making a work, as yet almost wholly unknown, the subject of my consideration, I shall acquire the reputation of taste, as well as judgement;--of judiciousness in selection, as well as justness in observation;--of propriety in choosing the object, as well as skill in using the language, of commentary.

The _Epic Poem_ on which I shall ground my present critique, has for its chief characteristics, brevity and simplicity. The Author,--whose name I lament that I am, in some degree, prevented from consecrating to immortal fame, by not knowing what it is--the Author, I say, has not branched his poem into excressences of episode, or prolixities of digression; it is neither variegated with diversity of unmeaning similitudes, nor glaring with the varnish of unnatural metaphor. The whole is plain and uniform; so much so indeed, that I should hardly be surprised, if some morose readers were to conjecture, that the poet had been thus simple rather from necessity than choice; that he had been restrained not so much by chastity of judgement, as sterility of imagination.

Nay, some there may be perhaps, who will dispute his claim to the title of an _Epic Poet_; and will endeavour to degrade him even to the rank of a _ballad-monger_. But I, as his Commentator, will contend for the dignity of my Author; and will plainly demonstrate his Poem to be an _Epic Poem_, agreeable to the example of all Poets, and the consent of all Critics heretofore.

First, it is universally agreed, that an _Epic Poem_ should have three component parts, _a beginning_, _a middle_, and _an end_;--secondly, it is allowed, that it should have one _grand action_, or _main design_, to the forwarding of which, all the parts of it should directly or indirectly tend; and that this design should be in some measure consonant with, and conducive to, the purposes of _Morality_;--and thirdly, it is indisputably settled, that it should have _a Hero_. I trust that in none of these points the poem before us will be found deficient. There are other inferior properties, which I shall consider in due order.

Not to keep my readers longer in suspense, the subject of the poem is "_The Reformation of the Knave of Hearts_." It is not improbable, that some may object to me that a _Knave_ is an unworthy Hero for an Epic Poem; that a Hero ought to be all that is great and good. The objection is frivolous. The greatest work of this kind that the World has ever produced, has "_The Devil_" for its hero; and supported as my author is by so great a precedent, I contend, that his Hero is a very decent Hero; and especially as he has the advantage of _Milton_'s, by reforming at the end, is evidently entitled to a competent share of celebrity.

I shall now proceed in the more immediate examination of the poem in its different parts. The _beginning_, say the Critics, ought to be plain and simple; neither embellished with the flowers of poetry, nor turgid with pomposity of diction. In this how exactly does our Author conform to the established opinion! he begins thus,

"The Queen of Hearts "She made some Tarts"--

Can any thing be more clear! more natural! more agreeable to the true spirit of simplicity! Here are no tropes,--no figurative expressions,--not even so much as an invocation to the Muse. He does not detain his readers by any needless circumlocution; by unnecessarily informing them, what he _is_ going to sing; or still more unnecessarily enumerating what he _is not_ going to sing: but according to the precept of Horace,

----in medias res, Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit,----

That is, he at once introduces us, and sets us on the most easy and familiar footing imaginable, with her Majesty of Hearts, and interests us deeply in her domestic concerns. But to proceed,

"The Queen of Hearts "She made some Tarts, "All on a Summer's Day."

Here indeed the prospect brightens, and we are led to expect some liveliness of imagery, some warmth of poetical colouring;--but here is no such thing.--There is no task more difficult to a Poet, than that of _Rejection_. _Ovid_, among the ancients, and _Dryden_, among the moderns, were perhaps the most remarkable for the want of it. The latter from the haste in which he generally produced his compositions, seldom paid much attention to the "_limæ labor_," "the labour of correction," and seldom therefore rejected the assistance of any idea that presented itself. _Ovid_, not content with catching the leading features of any scene or character, indulged himself in a thousand minutiæ of description, a thousand puerile prettinesses, which were in themselves uninteresting, and took off greatly from the effect of the whole; as the numberless suckers, and straggling branches of a fruit tree, if permitted to shoot out unrestrained, while they are themselves barren and useless, diminish considerably the vigour of the parent stock. _Ovid_ had more genius, but less judgement than _Virgil_; _Dryden_ more imagination, but less correctness than _Pope_; had they not been deficient in these points, the former would certainly have equalled, the latter infinitely outshone the merits of his countryman.--_Our Author_ was undoubtedly possessed of that power which they wanted; and was cautious not to indulge too far the sallies of a lively imagination. Omitting therefore any mention of--sultry Sirius,--silvan shade,--sequestered glade,--verdant hills,--purling rills,--mossy mountains,--gurgling fountains,--&c. &c.--he simply tells us that it was "_All on a Summers Day_." For my own part, I confess, that I find myself rather flattered than disappointed; and consider the Poet as rather paying a compliment to the abilities of his readers, than baulking their expectations. It is certainly a great pleasure to see a picture well painted; but it is a much greater to paint it well oneself. This therefore I look upon as a stroke of excellent management in the Poet. Here every reader is at liberty to gratify his own taste; to design for himself just what sort of "_Summer's Day_" he likes best; to choose his own scenery; dispose his lights and shades as he pleases; to solace himself with a rivulet or a horse-pond,--a shower, or a sun-beam,--a grove, or a kitchen garden,--according to his fancy. How much more considerate this, than if the Poet had, from an affected accuracy of description, thrown us into an unmannerly perspiration by the heat of the atmosphere; forced us into a landscape of his own planning, with perhaps a paltry good-for-nothing zephyr or two, and a limited quantity of wood and water.--All this _Ovid_ would undoubtedly have done. Nay, to use the expression of a learned brother-commentator, "_quovis pignore decertem_" "I would lay any wager," that he would have gone so far as to tell us what the tarts were made of; and perhaps wandered into an episode on the art of preserving cherries. But _our Poet_, above such considerations, leaves every reader to choose his own ingredients, and sweeten them to his own liking; wisely foreseeing, no doubt, that the more palatable each had rendered them to his own taste, the more he would be affected at their approaching loss.

"All on a Summer's Day."

I cannot leave this line without remarking, that one of the _Scribleri_, a descendant of the famous _Martinus_, has expressed his suspicions of the text being corrupted here, and proposes, instead of "_All on_" reading "_Alone_," alledging, in favour of this alteration, the effect of Solitude in raising the passions. But _Hiccius Doctius_, a High Dutch commentator, one nevertheless well versed in British literature, in a note of his usual length and learning, has confuted the arguments of _Scriblerus_. In support of the present reading, he quotes a passage from a poem written about the same period with our author's, by the celebrated _Johannes Pastor_[*], intituled "_An Elegiac Epistle to the Turnkey of Newgate_," wherein the gentleman declares, that rather indeed in compliance with an old custom, than to gratify any particular will of his own, he is going

"All hanged for to be "Upon that fatal Tyburn tree."----

[Footnote *: More commonly known, I believe, by the appellation of "_Jack Shepherd_."]

Now as nothing throws greater light on an author, than the concurrence of a contemporary writer, I am inclined to be of _Hiccius's_ opinion, and to consider the "_All_" as an elegant expletive, or, as he more aptly phrases it "_elegans expletivum_." The passage therefore must stand thus,

"The Queen of Hearts "She made some Tarts, "All on a Summer's Day."

And thus ends the first part, or _beginning_; which is simple and unembellished; opens the subject in a natural and easy manner; excites, but does not too far gratify our curiosity: for a reader of accurate observation may easily discover, that the _Hero_ of the Poem has not, as yet, made his appearance.

I could not continue my examination at present through the whole of this Poem, without far exceeding the limits of a single paper. I have therefore divided it into two; but shall not delay the publication of the second to another week,--as that, besides breaking the connection of criticism, would materially injure the _unities_ of the Poem.

No. XII.

of the

MICROCOSM.

MONDAY, _February 12, 1787_.

Servetur ad imum, Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet.

HORACE.

From his first Entrance to the closing Scene, Let him one equal Character maintain.

FRANCIS.

Having thus gone through the first part, or _beginning_ of the Poem, we may naturally enough proceed to the consideration of the second.

The second part, or _middle_, is the proper place for bustle and business; for incident and adventure.

"The Knave of Hearts "He stole those Tarts."

Here attention is awakened; and our whole souls are intent upon the first appearance of the Hero. Some readers may perhaps be offended at his making his _entré_ in so disadvantageous a character as that of a _thief_. To this I plead precedent.

The Hero of the Iliad, as I observed in a former paper, is made to lament very pathetically,--that "life is not like all other possessions, to be acquired by theft."--A reflection, in my opinion, evidently shewing, that, if he _did_ refrain from the practice of this ingenious art, it was not from want of an inclination that way. We may remember too, that in _Virgil's_ poem, almost the first light in which the _Pious Æneas_ appears to us, is a _deer-stealer_; nor is it much excuse for him, that the deer were wandering without keepers; for however he might, from this circumstance, have been unable to ascertain whose property they were; he might, I think, have been pretty well assured that they were not _his_.

Having thus acquitted our Hero of misconduct, by the example of his betters, I proceed to what I think the Master-Stroke of the Poet.

"The Knave of Hearts "He stole those Tarts, "And----took them----quite away!!"

Here, whoever has an ear for harmony, and a heart for feeling, must be touched! There is a desponding melancholy in the run of the last line! an air of tender regret in the addition of "_quite away!_" a something so expressive of irrecoverable loss! so forcibly intimating the "_Ah nunquam reditura!_" "They never can return!" in short, such an union of sound and sense, as we rarely, if ever meet with in any author, ancient or modern. Our feelings are all alive--but the Poet, wisely dreading that our sympathy with the injured Queen might alienate our affections from his Hero, contrives immediately to awaken our fears for him, by telling us, that

"The King of Hearts "Call'd for those Tarts,"--

We are all conscious of the fault of our Hero, and all tremble with him, for the punishment which the enraged Monarch may inflict;

"And beat the Knave--full sore!"

The fatal blow is struck! We cannot but rejoice that guilt is justly punished, though we sympathize with the guilty object of punishment. Here _Scriblerus_, who, by the bye, is very fond of making unnecessary alterations, proposes reading "_Score_" instead of "_sore_," meaning thereby to particularize, that the beating bestowed by this Monarch, consisted of _twenty_ stripes. But this proceeds from his ignorance of the genius of our language, which does not admit of such an expression as "_full score_," but would require the insertion of the particle "_a_," which cannot be, on account of the metre. And this is another great artifice of the Poet: by leaving the quantity of beating indeterminate, he gives every reader the liberty to administer it, in exact proportion to the sum of indignation which he may have conceived against his Hero; that by thus amply satisfying their resentment, they may be the more easily reconciled to him afterwards.

"The King of Hearts "Call'd for those Tarts, "And beat the Knave full sore!"

Here ends the second part, or _middle_ of the poem; in which we see the character, and exploits of the Hero, pourtrayed with the hand of a master.

Nothing now remains to be examined, but the third part, or _End_. In the _End_, it is a rule pretty well established, that the Work should draw towards a conclusion, which our Author manages thus.

"The Knave of Hearts "Brought back those Tarts."

Here every thing is at length settled; the theft is compensated; the tarts restored to their right owner; and _Poetical Justice_, in every respect, strictly, and impartially administered.

We may observe, that there is nothing in which our Poet has better succeeded, than in keeping up an unremitted attention in his readers to the main instruments, the machinery of his poem, viz. The _Tarts_; insomuch, that the aforementioned _Scriblerus_ has sagely observed, that "he can't tell, but he doesn't know, but the tarts may be reckoned the heroes of the Poem." _Scriblerus_, though a man of learning, and frequently right in his opinion, has here certainly hazarded a rash conjecture. His arguments are overthrown entirely by his great opponent, _Hiccius_, who concludes, by triumphantly asking, "Had the tarts been eaten, how could the Poet have compensated for the loss of his Heroes?"

We are now come to the _denouèment_, the setting all to rights: and our Poet, in the management of his _moral_, is certainly superior to his great ancient predecessors. The moral of their fables, if any they have, is so interwoven with the main body of their work, that in endeavouring to unravel it, we should tear the whole. _Our Author_ has very properly preserved his whole and entire for the _end_ of his poem, where he completes his _main design_, the _Reformation_ of his Hero, thus,

"And vow'd he'd steal no more."

Having in the course of his work, shewn the bad effects arising from theft, he evidently means this last moral reflection, to operate with his readers as a gentle and polite dissuasive from stealing.

"The Knave of Hearts "Brought back those Tarts, "And vow'd he'd steal no more!"

Thus have I industriously gone through the several parts of this wonderful Work; and clearly proved it, in every one of these parts, and in all of them together, to be a _due and proper Epic Poem_; and to have as good a right to that title, from its adherence to prescribed rules, as any of the celebrated master-pieces of antiquity. And here I cannot help again lamenting, that, by not knowing the name of the Author, I am unable to twine our laurels together; and to transmit to posterity the mingled praises of Genius, and Judgment; of the Poet, and his commentator.

Having some space left in this paper, I will now, with the permission of my readers of the _great world_, address myself more particularly to my fellow-citizens.

To them, the essay which I have here presented, will, I flatter myself, be peculiarly serviceable at this time; and I would earnestly recommend an attentive perusal of it, to all of them whose muses are engaged in compositions of the Epic kind.--I am very much afraid that I may run into the error, which I have myself pointed out, of becoming too _local_,--but where it is evidently intended for the good of my fellow citizens, it may, I hope, be now and then pardonable. At the present juncture, as many have applied for my assistance, I cannot find in my heart to refuse it them. Were I to attempt fully explaining, why, at the _present juncture_, I fear it would be vain. Would it not seem incredible to the Ladies, were I to tell them, that the period approaches, when upwards of a hundred _Epic Poems_ will be exposed to public view, most of them nearly of equal length, and many of them nearly of equal merit, with the one which I have here taken into consideration; illustrated moreover with elegant etchings, designed either as _hieroglyphical_ explanations of the subject, or as _practical puns_ on the name of the author?--And yet in truth so it is,--and on this subject I wish to give a word of advice to my countrymen.

Many of them have applied to me by letter, to assist them with designs for prefixing to their poems; and this I should very willingly have done, had those gentlemen been kind enough to subscribe their real names to their requests: whereas, all that I have received have been signed, _Tom Long_, _Philosophus_, _Philalethes_, and such like. I have therefore been prevented from affording them the assistance I wished; and cannot help wondering, that the gentlemen did not consider, that it was impossible for me to provide _typical references_ for feigned names; as, for ought I know, the person who signs himself _Tom Long_ may not be four feet high; _Philosophus_ may be possessed of a considerable share of folly; and _Philalethes_ may be as arrant a liar as any in the kingdom.

It may not however be useless to offer some general reflections for all who may require them. It is not improbable, that, as the subject of their poems is the _Restoration_, many of my fellow-citizens may choose to adorn their _title-pages_ with the representation of His Majesty, Charles the Second, escaping the vigilance of his pursuers in the _Royal Oak_. There are some particularities generally observable in this picture, which I shall point out to them, lest they fall into similar errors. Though I am as far as any other Briton can be, from wishing to "curtail" his Majesty's Wig "of its fair proportion;" yet I have sometimes been apt to think it rather improper, to make the Wig, as is usually done, of larger dimensions than the tree in which it and his Majesty are concealed. It is a rule in Logic, and I believe may hold good in most other Sciences, that "_omne majus continet in se minus_," that "every thing larger can hold any thing that is less;" but I own, I never heard the contrary advanced or defended with any plausible arguments, viz. "that every little thing can hold one larger." I therefore humbly propose, that there should be at least an edge of foliage round the outskirts of the said wig; and that its curls should not exceed in number the leaves of the tree. There is also another practice almost equally prevalent, of which I am sceptic enough to doubt the propriety. I own, I cannot think it by any means conducive to the more effectual concealment of his Majesty, that there should be three Regal Crowns stuck on three different branches of the tree. Horace says indeed,

Pictoribus atque Poetis, Quidlibet audendi semper fuit æqua potestas.

Painters and Poets our indulgence claim, _Their daring equal, and their art the same._--FRAN.

And this may be reckoned a very allowable _poetical licence_; inasmuch as it lets the spectator into the secret, _who is in the tree_. But it is apt to make him at the same time throw the accusation of negligence and want of penetration on the three dragoons, who are usually depicted on the foreground, cantering along very composedly, with serene countenances, erect persons, and drawn swords, very little longer than themselves.

* * * * * * * * *

PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

[Transcriber's Note: Many of the listed titles are or will be available from Project Gutenberg. Where possible, the e-text number is given in brackets.]

*First Year (1946-1947)*

Numbers 1-6 out of print.

[Titles: 1. Richard Blackmore's _Essay upon Wit_ (1716), and Addison's _Freeholder_ No. 45 (1716). [13484] 2. Anon., _Essay on Wit_ (1748), together with Characters by Flecknoe, and Joseph Warton's _Adventurer_ Nos. 127 and 133. [14973] 3. Anon., _Letter to A. H. Esq.; concerning the Stage_ (1698), and Richard Willis' _Occasional Paper_ No. IX (1698). [14047] 4. Samuel Cobb's _Of Poetry_ and _Discourse on Criticism_ (1707). [14528] 5. Samuel Wesley's _Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry_ (1700) and _Essay on Heroic Poetry_ (1693). [16506] 6. Anon., _Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage_ (1704) and anon., _Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage_ (1704). [15656] ]

*Second Year (1947-1948)*