Far before the rest, the son of Ossian comes; bright in the smiles of youth, fair as the first beams of the sun. His long hair waves on his back: his dark brow is half beneath his helmet. The sword hangs loose on the hero's side; and his spear glitters as he moves. I fled from his terrible eye, King of high Temora. Fingal. The Henriade of Voltaire errs greatly against the foregoing rule: every incident is touched in a summary way, without ever descending to circumstances. This manner is good in a general history, the purpose of which is to record important transactions: but in a fable it is cold and uninteresting; because it is impracticable to form distinct images: of persons or things represented in a manner so superficial. It is observed above, that every useless circumstance ought to be suppressed. The crowding such circumstances is, on the one hand, no less to be avoided, than the conciseness for which Voltaire is blamed, on the other. In the Eneid,* Barce, the nurse of Sichæus, whom we never hear of before nor after, is introduced for a purpose not more impórtant than to call Anna to her sister Dido: and that it might not be thought unjust in Dido, even in this trivial circumstance, to prefer her husband's nurse before her own, the poet takes care to inform his reader that Dido's nurse was dead. To this I must oppose a beautiful passage in the same book, where, after Dido's last speech, the poet, without * Lib. 4. l. 632, detaining his readers by describing the manner of her death, hastens to the lamentation of her attendants: १ Dixerat: atque illam media inter talia ferro. As an appendix to the foregoing rule, I add the following observation, That to make a sudden and strong impression, some single circumstance, happily selected, has more power than the most laboured description. Macbeth, mentioning to his lady some voices he heard while he was murdering the King, says, There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried Murder! They wak'd each other; and I stood and heard them; But they did say their prayers, and address them Again to sleep. Lady. There are two lodg'd together, Macbeth, One cried, God bless us! and Amen the other; As they had seen me with these hangman's hands. Listening their fear, I could not say Amen, When they did say, God bless us. Lady. Consider it not so deeply. Macbeth. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen? I had most need of blessing, and Amen -Stuck in my throat. Lady. These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. Macbeth. Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Macbeth doth murder sleep, &c. Act II. Sc. 2. in Alphonso, in the Mourning Bride, shut up the same prison where his father had been confin ed: In a dark corner of my cell I found This paper; what it is this light will shew. "If my Alphonso”. -Ha! [Reading. "If my Alphonso live, restore him, Heav'n; [Reading "Not for myself, but him, hear me, all-gracious"— "Tis wanting what should follow Heav'n should follow, But 'tis torn off-Why should that word alone Be torn from his petition? 'Twas to Heav'n, But Heav'n was deaf, Heav'n heard him not; but thus, Thus as the name of Heav'n from his is torn, So did it tear the ears of mercy from His voice, shutting the gates of prayer against him. If piety be thus debarr'd access On high, and of good men the very best Is singled out to bleed, and bear the scourge, Mourning Bride, Act III. Sc. 1. This incident is a happy invention, and a mark of uncommon genius. Describing Prince Henry: I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, And witch the world with noble horsemanship. K. Henry. Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. He dies, and makes no sign! Second Part Henry VI. Act III. Sc. 3. The same author, speaking ludicrously of an army debilitated with diseases, says, Half of them dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces. I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were deso♣ late. The flames had resounded in the halls; and the voice of the people is heard no more. The stream of Clutha was removed from its place by the fall of the walls. The thistle shook there its lonely head: the moss whistled to the wind, The fox looked out from the windows; and the rank grass of the wall waved round his head. Desolate is the dwelling of Morna: silence is in the house of her fathers. Fingal. To draw a character is the master-stroke of description. In this Tacitus excels: his portraits are natural and lively, not a feature wanting nor misplaced. Shakespeare, however, exceeds Tacitus in liveliness, some characteristical circumstance being generally invented or laid hold of, which paints more to the life than many words. The following instances will explain my meaning, and at the same time prove my observation to be just: Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark ! That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing. Again: Merchant of Venice, Act 1. Sc. 1. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice: his reasons are two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them they are not worth the search. Ibid. In the following passage a character is completed by a single stroke: |