Of these Dialogues, now almost forgotten, but yet exhibiting one of the most interesting models of English criticism, I shall insert an ample specimen; not only with the view of affording an example of their style, but of alluring, likewise, to their perusal, all who wish to learn the rare art of mingling candour and politeness with the wholesome severities of criticism. "The designs of Painting and Poetry are so united, that to me the Poet and the Painter seem scarcely to differ in any thing, except the mean they make use of, to arrive at one and the same end. Both are to express Nature; but the materials of the one are words and sound; of the Any other, figure and colours. Poetry can paint more particularly, more largely, and with greater coherence: Painting is the more concise and. emphatical. If this may excel in shewing one view distinctly, that can shew several in succession, without any manner of confusion. figure in Painting is confined to one attitude; but Poetry can give as great a variety of motion and postures, as the reality itself. What seems a paradox of art in either, is their power of expressing two opposite passions in the same face. Of this sort, (among a multitude of like instances) is the mother of Lewis XIII. in the Gallery of Luxembourgh; and every piece in that fine episode which concludes the sixth Iliad. In that picture, the queen's face strongly expresses the pain and anguish of her condition, mixed with a regard toward her son, full of the greatest pleasure and complacency. In the poem we have the greater variety, and each piece is perfectly just and finished. Hector shews a fierceness for the war, and tenderness that inclines him to stay for a last interview; little Astyanax has a fondness and a terror in his eyes, at the sight of his father; while Andromache's face is all softened into a tender smile; and, at the same time, wet with the tears that fall for her Hector. "I remember, says Antiphaus, it was to you that I was obliged for the first observation I ever met with,, on these double passions. I have since read several things (in the Æneid as well as the works of Homer) with a pleasure perfectly new, on account of the light you then gave me into this particular and out of a thousand places, that I have observed it in since, I know none more beautiful than that of Achaemenides in Virgil, which you mentioned to me the first time we ever talked. of this subject. "That you know (replied Philypsas) to have been always my favourite-but” "I must not forget here, that one of the finest of the modern Italian poets has expressed this mixture of opposite passions, on an occasion which is attended with such a circumstance as exceeds any of the other. The particular in which he shews it, shews at the same time the swiftness of the intervening passion; and expresses, the strongest of any, how immediately one flow of spirits succeeds upon a former and quite contrary emotion. Armida, deserted by her Rinaldo, breathes nothing but fury and revenge; she pursues him in the heat of the battle; forgetful of her former passion, she aims an arrow at his heart: but see, while it is yet in its flight, how the passions vary in her face! her rage and fury soften into tenderness, and apprehension of his danger! in an instant her love is too strong for her resentment: in an instant, she dreads lest her design should be effectual, and longs to be disappointed in her aim: Swift flies the shaft: as swiftly flies her pray'r, "How finely are the passions blended in this piece! The transition from the extremity of fury to an excess of love, is managed in such a manner, as to be wholly imperceptible: as when two colours are lost in the shades of each other, the eye is agreeably deceived; and we are delighted with the delicacy of their union, though unable to discover where the one commences, or the other ends. "In this particular there is not any thing that can equal poetry, or bear to be compared with it, except its sister-art of painting; and certainly what makes so beautiful a figure in the finest poets, might deserve the imitation of the best painters. Was not the Dolon and Calypso of Homer, worthy the hand of a Zeuxis or Apelles? Would not the Aruns and Achæmenides of Virgil have been a fine design even for Corregio or Raphael to have worked upon?— "There is perhaps scarce a figure or manner in poetry, which I should not imagine to have its tally in the schools of the painters: I could find it even in the very next point which comes in my way, in the Emphatical. Natural descriptions, as they are pictures which take in the various circumstances of a place or action, give us generally several groups of finished figures; this, on the contrary, is a way of expressing nature in poetry, not unlike sketches and first draughts in painting; and as the lines in sketches are fewer, and more animated, this must be always concise, and very expressive. "There are several masterly strokes of the emphatical kind in the Odyssey: such is that speech of Telemachus, where he says, Prepar'd I stand. He was but born to try "Such is Circe's whole speech-such, in an high degree, is the first rencounter of the hero with that Goddess. Hence to thy fellows, dreadful she began, Go, be a beast.—I heard, and yet was man. "This manner is necessary in all sententious passages, and moral reflections; 'tis often strong in expressing the passions, and peculiarly useful in the sublime. Take an instance of each from Mr. Pope. -Pirates and conquerors, of harden'd mind, "The reflection upon seeing Agamemnon in Hades, is of this kind. Now all Atrides is an empty shade! § "Just after, Atrides speaks thus passionately in the account of his own death by the treachery of Ægisthus: / But not with me the direful murder ends: These, these expir'd !---Their crime they were my friends. ♦ B. 10, 1. 382. B. 14, l. 110. B. 11, I. 512. * B. 3, 1. 119. VOL. IV. |