nishing by their unexpected disclosure, and thus perplexes his intrigue for the purpose of pleasing by its developement.

That we dispense with the want of truth in these compositions seems to be on two accounts: that event towards which the subject tends, and those incidents on which it is constructed, are of that familiar and unimportant kind which, falling within the compass of common occurrences, are not calcu lated to force a doubt into the mind respecting their reality. We may also conceive them to have really happened, though out of the circle of our knowledge; for occurrences equally unimportant frequently take place without our privity. It is not my intention, however, to maintain that we ever believe the production to be true; but that the interest we take in it is never interrupted with the notion of its being fictitious. But more than this, from the manner in which the subject is conducted, our passions are kept in continued play, and our mind is so far diverted by a powerful interest, that it will not turn to this or any inferiour consideration. And should it even happen that these doubts, respecting the truth of what interests us, should arise when we are thus engrossed by our

feelings, their effects would be little felt among those sensations which more powerfully agitate the bosom.

It must be sufficiently apparent that the expedients, by which the novelist is thus enabled to support his subject without the assistance of truth, are neither resorted to by the epick poet, nor expected from his compositions; but it is equally true, not only that the epopee rejects the whole of the means employed by the novelist in effecting such an end, but that we should not tolerate such an end if effected. The fundamental cause of this circumstance seems to lie in the epopee exciting our pleasure by appealing rather to the taste, than by addressing the passions. And a justification of the preference manifested by the poet in directing his compositions to the former is deducible not only from the comprehensiveness of taste as a faculty, which occasionally embraces what is affecting and pathetick, as well as what is beautiful and grand'; it might be drawn from the nature of those emotions which it excites, as being of a nature more dignified, exalted, and intellectual than those which operate on our passions. Taking this circumstance along with the further consideration, that every poet is

called upon to aspire at that highest degree, and that highest kind of pleasure, which is attainable by his art, it will ultimately lead us to a notion of the true epical character. And this notion properly followed up will eventually establish the conclusion of Tasso, and annihilate the force of the exception brought against it from fictitious history.

That the want of dignity in the characters of a novel, the want of greatness in its incidents, and of importance in its catastrophe, must incapacitate such materials from entering into the composition of epick poetry, is so self-evident as to appear unworthy of remark. The general character of that interest which fictitious history excites must place it, as being perturbed and passionate, under a similar interdict from entering into epical composition; as it is forwarded by a succession of those unexpected events and affecting incidents, which, though powerful in swaying our passions, contribute little more to the gratification of that severer faculty, taste, than to procure it a temporary variety in that calm and serious delight after which it principally seeks. Nor can any suitable gratification be promised to this faculty by

supplying that perplexity of intrigue which distinguishes the compositions of fictitious history from that simplicity of plan which we require in epical compositions; and which is a plan of that kind alone that wè can find time to comprehend, from having our attention divided among other and interesting considerations.

The poet being thus excluded from sustaining the interest of an epical composition, by those means which the novelist employs in his fictitious subjects, is left no alternative, in affording that pleasure which is the end of his art, but what the nature of his composition, as being the most dignified as well as the most perfect of the works of invention, naturally suggests. And suitably to this character, he employs his subject, not in details of private interests, and domestick duties, but in the description of events of great and national concern, and in the display of moral, patriotick, and heroical virtues. That uniformity of composition which requires, that incidents of this rank should be followed by a close of suitable elevation; that unity of plan which demands that every incident should hang upon some principal event, in

order that the mind should not be distracted in keeping those parts together which are not simultaneous but successive; and that beauty of arrangement which exacts that our interest should rise rather than fall with the prosecution of the subject, are qualities which are indispensable in the epical plan: and they imperatively require, that the subject should be constructed on some occurrence of more than ordinary importance; in the completion of which the production should find its termination. In the state of calm and collected emotion, with which the mind regards those incidents of the work, which suitably to the dignity of its composition should be thrown into a solemn repose, it must sink under the weariness of a prolonged narration, unless this expedient is adopted. For a production, thus constructed, must be for the most part deprived of those little interesting tales of domestick happiness or distress, which uphold the attention by the agitation of the passions; and the mind must consequently feel a lassitude, unless it is kept alive by having the observation bounded by some great object; such, as the subversion of a kingdom, the establishment of an infant