Lives Of The Poets, Vol. 1 (fiscle part-III) by Samuel Johnson (audio ebook reader txt) 📕

After The Operation Of Immaterial Agents Which Cannot Be Explained, May

Be Considered that Of Allegorical Persons, Which Have No Real Existence.

To Exalt Causes Into Agents, To Invest Abstract Ideas With Form, And

Animate Them With Activity, Has Always Been The Right Of Poetry. But

Such Airy Beings Are, For The Most Part, Suffered only To Do Their

Natural Office, And Retire. Thus Fame Tells A Tale, And Victory Hovers

Over A General, Or Perches On A Standard; But Fame And Victory Can Do No

More. To Give Them Any Real Employment, Or Ascribe To Them Any Material

Agency, Is To Make Them Allegorical No Longer, But To Shock The Mind By

Ascribing effects To Nonentity. In the Prometheus Of Aeschylus, We See

Violence And Strength, And In the Alcestis Of Euripides, We See Death

Brought Upon The Stage, All As Active Persons Of The Drama; But No

Precedents Can Justify Absurdity.

Milton'S Allegory Of Sin And Death Is, Undoubtedly, Faulty. Sin Is,

Indeed, The Mother Of Death, And May Be Allowed to Be The Portress Of

Hell; But When They Stop The Journey Of Satan, A Journey Described as

Real, And When Death Offers Him Battle, The Allegory Is Broken. That Sin

And Death Should Have Shown The Way To Hell, Might Have Been Allowed;

But They Cannot Facilitate The Passage By Building a Bridge, Because The

Difficulty Of Satan'S Passage Is Described as Real And Sensible, And The

Bridge Ought To Be Only Figurative. The Hell Assigned to The Rebellious

Spirits Is Described as Not Less Local Than The Residence Of Man. It

Is Placed in some Distant Part Of Space, Separated from The Regions Of

Harmony And Order By A Chaotick Waste And An Unoccupied vacuity; But

Sin And Death Worked up "A Mole Of Aggravated soil," Cemented with

"Asphaltus;" A Work Too Bulky For Ideal Architects.

This Unskilful Allegory Appears To Me One Of The Greatest Faults Of The

Poem; And To This There Was No Temptation But The Author'S Opinion Of

Its Beauty.

To The Conduct Of The Narrative Some Objections May Be Made. Satan Is,

With Great Expectation, Brought Before Gabriel In paradise, And Is

Suffered to Go Away Unmolested. The Creation Of Man Is Represented as The

Consequence Of The Vacuity Left In heaven By The Expulsion Of The Rebels;

Yet Satan Mentions It As A Report "Rife In heaven" Before His Departure.

To Find Sentiments For The State Of Innocence Was Very Difficult; And

Something of Anticipation, Perhaps, Is Now And Then Discovered. Adam'S

Discourse Of Dreams Seems Not To Be The Speculation Of A New-Created

Being. I Know Not Whether His Answer To The Angel'S Reproof For Curiosity

Does Not Want Something of Propriety; It Is The Speech Of A Man

Acquainted with Many Other Men. Some Philosophical Notions, Especially

When The Philosophy Is False, Might Have Been Better Omitted. The

Angel, In a Comparison, Speaks Of "Timorous Deer," Before Deer Were Yet

Timorous, And Before Adam Could Understand The Comparison.

Dryden Remarks, That Milton Has Some Flats Among His Elevations. This Is

Only To Say, That All The Parts Are Not Equal. In every Work, One Part

Must Be For The Sake Of Others; A Palace Must Have Passages; A Poem Must

Have Transitions. It Is No More To Be Required that Wit Should Always Be

Blazing, Than That The Sun Should Always Stand At Noon. In a Great Work

There Is A Vicissitude Of Luminous And Opaque Parts, As There Is In the

World A Succession Of Day And Night. Milton, When He Has Expatiated in

The Sky, May Be Allowed, Sometimes, To Revisit Earth; For What Other

Author Ever Soared so High, Or Sustained his Flight So Long?

Milton, Being well Versed in the Italian Poets, Appears To Have Borrowed

Often From Them; And, As Every Man Catches Something from His Companions,

His Desire Of Imitating ariosto'S Levity Has Disgraced his Work With

The Paradise Of Fools; A Fiction Not, In itself, Ill Imagined, But Too

Ludicrous For Its Place.

His Play On Words, In which He Delights Too Often; His Equivocations,

Which Bentley Endeavours To Defend By The Example Of The Ancients; His

Unnecessary And Ungraceful Use Of Terms Of Art; It Is Not Necessary To

Mention, Because They Are Easily Remarked, And Generally Censured; And,

At Last, Bear So Little Proportion To The Whole, That They Scarcely

Deserve The Attention Of A Critick.

Such Are The Faults Of That Wonderful Performance, Paradise Lost; Which

He Who Can Put In balance With Its Beauties Must Be Considered not As

Nice But As Dull; As Less To Be Censured for Want Of Candour, Than Pitied

For Want Of Sensibility.

Of Paradise Regained, The General Judgment Seems Now To Be Right, That It

Is, In many Parts, Elegant, And Everywhere Instructive. It Was Not To Be

Supposed that The Writer Of Paradise Lost Could Ever Write Without Great

Effusions Of Fancy, And Exalted precepts Of Wisdom. The Basis Of Paradise

Regained is Narrow; A Dialogue Without Action Can Never Please, Like An

Union Of The Narrative And Dramatick Powers. Had This Poem Been Written

Not By Milton, But By Some Imitator, It Would Have Claimed and Received

Universal Praise.

If Paradise Regained has Been Too Much Depreciated, Sampson Agonistes

Has, In requital, Been Too Much Admired. It Could Only Be By Long

Prejudice, And The Bigotry Of Learning, That Milton Could Prefer The

Ancient Tragedies, With Their Encumbrance Of A Chorus, To The Exhibitions

Of The French And English Stages; And It Is Only By A Blind Confidence

In The Reputation Of Milton, That A Drama Can Be Praised, In which The

Intermediate Parts Have Neither Cause Nor Consequence, Neither Hasten Nor

Retard The Catastrophe.

In This Tragedy Are, However, Many Particular Beauties, Many Just

Sentiments And Striking lines; But It Wants That Power Of Attracting the

Attention, Which A Well-Connected plan Produces.

Milton Would Not Have Excelled in dramatick Writing; He Knew Human Nature

Only In the Gross, And Had Never Studied the Shades Of Character, Nor The

Combinations Of Concurring, Or The Perplexity Of Contending passions. He

Had Read Much, And Knew What Books Could Teach; But Had Mingled little

In The World, And Was Deficient In the Knowledge Which Experience Must

Confer.

Through All His Greater Works There Prevails An Uniform Peculiarity Of

Diction, A Mode And Cast Of Expression Which Bears Little Resemblance To

That Of Any Former Writer; And Which Is So Far Removed from Common Use,

That An Unlearned reader, When He First Opens His Book, Finds Himself

Surprised by A New Language.

This Novelty Has Been, By Those Who Can Find Nothing wrong In milton,

Imputed to His Laborious Endeavours After Words Suitable To The Grandeur

Of His Ideas. "Our Language," Says Addison, "Sunk Under Him." But The

Truth Is, That, Both In prose And Verse, He Had Formed his Style By A

Perverse And Pedantick Principle. He Was Desirous To Use English Words

With A Foreign Idiom. This In all His Prose Is Discovered and Condemned;

For There Judgment Operates Freely, Neither Softened by The Beauty, Nor

Awed by The Dignity Of His Thoughts; But Such Is The Power Of His Poetry,

That His Call Is Obeyed without Resistance, The Reader Feels Himself

In Captivity To A Higher And A Nobler Mind, And Criticism Sinks In

Admiration.

Milton'S Style Was Not Modified by His Subject; What Is Shown With

Greater Extent In paradise Lost May Be Found In comus. One Source Of His

Peculiarity Was His Familiarity With The Tuscan Poets; The Disposition Of

His Words Is, I Think, Frequently Italian; Perhaps, Sometimes, Combined

With Other Tongues.

Of Him, At Last, May Be Said What Jonson Says Of Spenser, That "He Wrote

No Language," But Has Formed what Butler Calls A "Babylonish Dialect,"

In Itself Harsh And Barbarous, But Made By Exalted genius And Extensive

Learning the Vehicle Of So Much Instruction, And So Much Pleasure, That,

Like Other Lovers, We Find Grace In its Deformity.

Whatever Be The Faults Of His Diction, He Cannot Want The Praise Of

Copiousness And Variety; He Was Master Of His Language In its Full

Extent; And Has Selected the Melodious Words With Such Diligence, That

From His Book Alone The Art Of English Poetry Might Be Learned.

After His Diction, Something must Be Said Of His Versification. The

"Measure," He Says, "Is The English Heroick Verse Without Rhyme." Of

This Mode He Had Many Examples Among The Italians, And Some In his Own

Country. The Earl Of Surrey Is Said To Have Translated one Of Virgil'S

Books Without Rhyme[62]; And, Beside Our Tragedies, A Few Short Poems Had

Appeared in blank Verse, Particularly One Tending to Reconcile The Nation

To Raleigh'S Wild Attempt Upon Guiana, And Probably Written By Raleigh

Himself. These Petty Performances Cannot Be Supposed to Have Much

Influenced milton, Who, More Probably Took His Hint From Trissino'S

Italia Liberata; And, Finding blank Verse Easier Than Rhyme, Was Desirous

Of Persuading himself That It Is Better.

"Rhyme," He Says, And Says Truly, "Is No Necessary Adjunct Of True

Poetry." But, Perhaps, Of Poetry, As A Mental Operation, Metre Or Musick

Is No Necessary Adjunct: It Is, However, By The Musick Of Metre That

Poetry Has Been Discriminated in all Languages; And, In languages

Melodiously Constructed with A Due Proportion Of Long And Short

Syllables, Metre Is Sufficient. But One Language Cannot Communicate Its

Rules To Another; Where Metre Is Scanty And Imperfect, Some Help Is

Necessary. The Musick Of The English Heroick Lines Strikes The Ear So

Faintly, That It Is Easily Lost, Unless All The Syllables Of Every

Line Cooperate Together; This Cooperation Can Be Only Obtained by The

Preservation Of Every Verse Unmingled with Another, As A Distinct System

Of Sounds; And This Distinctness Is Obtained and Preserved by The

Artifice Of Rhyme. The Variety Of Pauses, So Much Boasted by The Lovers

Of Blank Verse, Changes The Measures Of An English Poet To The Periods

Of A Declaimer; And There Are Only A Few Skilful And Happy Readers Of

Milton, Who Enable Their Audience To Perceive Where The Lines End Or

Begin. "Blank Verse," Said An Ingenious Critick, "Seems To Be Verse Only

To The Eye." Poetry May Subsist Without Rhyme, But English Poetry Will

Not Often Please; Nor Can Rhyme Ever Be Safely Spared, But Where The

Subject Is Able To Support Itself. Blank Verse Makes Some Approach To

That Which Is Called the Lapidary Style; Has Neither The Easiness

Of Prose, Nor The Melody Of Numbers, And, Therefore, Tires By Long

Continuance. Of The Italian Writers Without Rhyme, Whom Milton Alleges As

Precedents, Not One Is Popular; What Reason Could Urge In its Defence,

Has Been Confuted by The Ear.

But, Whatever Be The Advantage Of Rhyme, I Cannot Prevail On Myself To

Wish That Milton Had Been A Rhymer; For I Cannot Wish His Work To Be

Other Than It Is; Yet, Like Other Heroes, He Is To Be Admired rather Than

Imitated. He That Thinks Himself Capable Of Astonishing may Write Blank

Verse; But Those That Hope Only To Please Must Condescend To Rhyme.

The Highest Praise Of Genius Is Original Invention. Milton Cannot Be Said

To Have Contrived the Structure Of An Epick Poem, And, Therefore, Owes

Reverence To That Vigour And Amplitude Of Mind To Which All Generations

Must Be Indebted for The, Art Of Poetical Narration, For The Texture Of

The Fable, The Variation Of Incidents, The Interposition Of Dialogue, And

All The Stratagems That Surprise And Enchain Attention. But, Of All The

Borrowers From Homer, Milton Is, Perhaps, The Least Indebted. He Was

Naturally A Thinker For Himself, Confident Of His Own Abilities, And

Disdainful Of Help Or Hindrance: He Did Not Refuse Admission To The

Thoughts Or Images Of His Predecessors, But He Did Not Seek Them. From

His Contemporaries He Neither Courted nor Received support; There Is

In His Writings Nothing by Which The Pride Of Other Authors Might Be

Gratified, Or Favour Gained; No Exchange Of Praise, Nor Solicitation Of

Support. His Great Works Were Performed under Discountenance, And In

Blindness; But Difficulties Vanished at His Touch; He Was Born For

Whatever Is Arduous; And His Work Is Not The Greatest Of Heroick Poems,

Only Because It Is Not The First.

[Footnote 26: In this Assertion Dr. Johnson Was Mistaken. Milton Was

Admitted a Pensioner, And Not A Sizar, As Will Appear By The Following

Extract From The College Register: "Johannes Milton, Londinensis, Filius

Johannis, Institutus Fuit In literarum Elementis Sub Mag'Ro Gill Gymnasii

Paulini Praefecto, Admissus Est _Pensionarius Minor_, Feb. 12 Deg., 1624, Sub

M'Ro Chappell, Solvitq. Pro Ingr. 0L. 10S. 0D." R.]

[Footnote 27: Published 1632. R.]

[Footnote 28: On This Subject, See Dr. Symons'S Life Of Milton, 71, 72.

Ed.]

[Footnote 29: By The Mention Of This Name, He Evidently Refers To

Albumazar, Acted at Cambridge, In 1614. Ignoramus, And Other Plays Were

Performed at The Same Time. The Practice Was Then Very Frequent. The

Last Dramatick Performance At Either University, Was The Grateful Fair,

Written By Christopher Smart, And Represented at Pembroke College,

Cambridge, About 1747.