papers that we are commenting upon, are entitled to the highest consideration and applause.*

It was in the Rambler that Johnson first presented to the public those peculiarities and prominent beauties of style which immediately distinguished him, in so striking a manner, from all preceding writers, and which have made so durable an impression upon our language. It will, therefore, be a subject both of curiosity and utility, not only to offer a few observations on the novel style and diction of this justly celebrated work; but, as a preliminary step, to ascertain also what had been the state and progress of composition, between the close of the Spectator and the publication of the Rambler; a disquisition which will directly continue the series of quotations and remarks that were introduced in our essays on Addison, and which will together form a history

It is somewhat remarkable, that Johnson has, in the twenty-third number of his Rambler, introduced an assertion which must be considered as in direct opposition to the fact. 66 My readers," says he, " having, from the performances of my predecessors, established an idea of unconnected essays." If by his predecessors he means to allude. to Addison and Steele, the observation is truly extraordinary; as the connection pervading the whole of seven volumes of the Spectator, through the medium of the club, is one of the most conspicuous and valuable features of that work.

of the progress of English style, from the year 1590, to the middle of the eighteenth century. To this it will be necessary to add some remarks on the effects of the Johnsonian style on the language and composition of the present period.

The author whose prose writings merit, immediately after those of Addison, the tribute of our praise, is the celebrated POPE. He, like his master Dryden, though his chief renown be derived from his poetical powers, has attained such excellence in prose composition as will fully qualify him for one of our best models. If he possess not the mellow richness of Dryden, he can claim greater correctness, and greater elegance; if he exhibit not the variety, the copiousness, and volubility of the elder bard, he is, however, more pure, concise, and emphatic. The structure of his sentences is peculiarly clear and neat, and at the same time accompanied with a due portion of melody and cadence. He seldom, if ever, violates the genius of the language, either in his words or collocation; but he is sometimes too declamatory, sparkling, and antithetic. In ease and simplicity, he is inferior to Addison; in force, spirit, and concinnity, superior.

Of the prose of Pope, the " Postscript to the Odyssey," and the "Preface to Shakspeare," are the best specimens; and from these interesting

pieces of criticism I shall select a couple of quotations.

"Upon the whole, he (Longinus) affirms the Odyssey to have less sublimity and fire than the Iliad, but he does not say it wants the sublime, or wants fire. He affirms it to be narrative, but not that the narration is defective. He affirms it to abound in fictions, not that those fictions are ill invented, or ill executed. He affirms it to be nice and particular in painting the manners, but not that those manners are ill painted. If Homer has fully in these points accomplished his own design, and done all that the nature of his poem demanded or allowed, it still remains perfect in its kind, and as much a master-piece as the Iliad.

"The Battle of Constantine, and the School of Athens, are both pieces of Raphael: shall we censure the School of Athens as faulty, because it has not the fury and fire of the other? or shall we say that Raphael was grown grave and old, because he chose to represent the manners of old men and philosophers? There is all the silence, tranquillity, and composure in the one, and all the warmth, hurry, and tumult in the other, which the subject of either required: both of them had been imperfect, if they had not been as they And let the painter or poet be young of old, who designs and performs in this manner, it

are.

proves him to have made the piece at a time of life, when he was master not only of his art, but of his discretion.

"The Odyssey is a perpetual source of poetry: the stream is not the less full for being gentle; though it is true (when we speak only with regard to the sublime,) that a river foaming and thundering in cataracts from rocks and precipices, is what more strikes, amazes, and fills the mind, than the same body of water, flowing afterwards through peaceful vales, and agreeable scenes of pasturage.'

"If ever any author deserved the name of an original, it was Shakspeare. Homer himself drew not his art so immediately from the fountains of Nature; it proceeded through Egyptian strainers and channels, and came to him not without some tincture of the learning, or some cast of the models, of those before him. The poetry of Shakspeare was inspiration indeed: he is not so much an imitator, as an instrument, of Nature; and it is not so just to say that he speaks from her, as that she speaks through him.

"His Characters are so much Nature herself, that it is a sort of injury to call them by so distant a name as copies of her. Those of other

poets have a constant resemblance, which shews

* Postscript to the Odyssey,

that they received them from one another, and were but multipliers of the same image; each picture, like a mock-rainbow, is but the reflection of a reflection. But every single character in Shakspeare is as much an individual, as those in life itself; it is as impossible to find any two alike; and such as from their relation or affinity in any respect appear most to be twins, will, upon comparison, be found remarkably distinct.

To

this life and variety of character, we must add the wonderful preservation of it; which is such throughout his plays, that had all the speeches been printed without the very names of the persons, I believe one might have applied them with certainty to every speaker.

"The Power over our Passions was never possessed in a more eminent degree, or displayed in so different instances. Yet all along, there is seen no labour, no pains to raise them; no preparation to guide or guess to the effect, or be perceived to lead toward it: but the heart swells, and the tears burst out, just at the proper places: we are surprised the moment we weep; and yet, upon reflection, find the passion so just, that we should be surprised if we had not wept, and wept at that very moment.

"How astonishing is it again, that the passions directly opposite to this, laughter and spleen, are