for Tragedy and Picture. Such is Scipio, restoring the Spanish Bride, whom he either loved, or may be supposed to love; by which he gained the hearts of a great nation, to interest themselves for Rome against Carthage these are all but particular pieces in Livy's History, and yet are full, complete subjects for the pen and pencil. Now the reason of this is evident: Tragedy and Picture are more narrowly circumscribed by the mechanic rules of time and place than the Epic Poem: the time of this last is left indefinite. It is true, Homer took up only the space of eight and forty days for his Iliad; but whether Virgil's action was comprehended in a year, or somewhat more, is not determined by Bossu. Homer made the place of his action Troy, and the Grecian camp besieging it. Virgil introduces his Æneas sometimes in Sicily, sometimes in Carthage, and other times at Cumæ, before he brings him to Laurentum; and even after that, he wanders again to the kingdom of Evander, and some parts of Tuscany, before he returns to finish the war by the death of Turnus. But Tragedy, according to the practice of the ancients, was always confined ̧ within the compass of twenty-four hours, and seldom takes up so much time. As for the place of it, it was always one, and that not in a larger sense, as, for example, a whole city, or two or three several houses in it, but the market, or some other public place, common to the chorus and all the actors; which established law of theirs I have not an opportunity to examine in this place, because I cannot do it without digression from my subject, though it seems too strict at the first appearance, because it excludes all secret intrigues, which are the beauties of the modern stage; for nothing can be carried on with privacy, when the chorus is supposed to be always present.

But to

proceed: I must say this to the advantage of Painting, even above Tragedy, that what this last represents in the space of many hours, the former shows us in one moment. The action, the passion, and the manners of so many persons as are contained in a picture, are to be discerned at once in the twinkling of an eye; at least they would be so, if the sight could travel over so many different objects all at once, or the mind could digest them all at the same instant, or point of time. Thus in the famous picture of Poussin, which represents the Institution of the blessed Sacrament, you see our Saviour and his twelve Disciples, all concurring in the same action, after different manners, and in different postures; only the manners of Judas are distinguished from the rest. Here is but one indivisible point of time observed; but one action performed by so many persons, in one room, and at the same table; yet the eye cannot comprehend at once the whole object, nor the mind follow it so fast; it is considered at leisure and seen by intervals. Such are the subjects of noble Picture, and such are only to be undertaken by noble hands. There are other parts of Nature which are meaner, and yet are the subjects both of Painters and of Poets.

For to proceed in the parallel; as Comedy is a representation of human life in inferior persons and low subjects, and by that means creeps into the nature of Poetry, and is a kind of juniper, a shrub belonging to the species of cedar; so is the painting of clowns, the representation of a Dutch Kermis, the brutal sport of Snick-or-Snee, and a thousand other things of this mean invention, a kind of picture which belongs to Nature, but of the lowest form. Such is a Lazar in comparison to a Venus; both are drawn in human figures; they have faces alike, though not like faces.

There is yet a lower sort of Poetry and Painting, which is out of nature; for a Farce is that in Poetry which Grotesque is in a Picture: the persons and actions of a Farce are all unnatural, and the manners false; that is, inconsistent with the characters of mankind. Grotesque Painting is the just resemblance of this; and Horace begins his Art of Poetry, by describing such a figure with a man's head, a horse's neck, the wings of a bird, and a fish's tail, parts of different species jumbled together, according to the mad imagination of the dauber; and the end of all this, as he tells you afterward, is to cause laughter: a very monster in Bartholomew Fair, for the mob to gape at for their twopence. Laughter is, indeed, the propriety of a man, but just enough to distinguish him from his elder brother with four legs. It is a kind of a bastard pleasure too, taken in at the eyes of the vulgar gazers, and at the ears of the beastly audience. Church-painters use it to divert the honest countryman at public prayers, and keep his eyes open at a heavy sermon; and farcescribblers make use of the same noble invention to entertain citizens, country gentlemen, and Covent Garden fops: if they are merry, all goes well on the Poet's side. The better sort go thither too, but in despair of sense and the just images of nature, which are the adequate pleasures of the mind. But the author can give the stage no better than what was given him by nature; and the actors must represent such things as they are capable to perform, and by which both they and the scribbler may get their living. After all, it is a good thing to laugh at any rate; and if a straw can tickle a man, it is an instrument of happiness. Beasts can weep when they suffer, but they cannot laugh; and, as Sir William Davenant observes, in his Preface to Gondibert, "It

is the wisdom of a government to permit plays, (he might have added farces,) as it is the prudence of a carter to put bells upon his horses to make them carry their burdens cheerfully."

I have already shown that one main end of Poetry and Painting is to please, and have said something of the kinds of both, and of their subjects, in which they bear a great resemblance to each other. I must now consider them as they are great and noble Arts: and as they are Arts, they must have rules which may direct

them to their common end.

To all Arts and Sciences, but more particularly to these, may be applied what Hippocrates says of Physic, as I find him cited by an eminent French critic. "Medicine has long subsisted in the world; the principles of it are certain, and it has a certain way; by both which there has been found, in the course of many ages, an infinite number of things, the experience of which has confirmed its usefulness and goodness. All that is wanting to the perfection of this Art, will undoubtedly be found, if able men, and such as are instructed in the ancient rules, will make a farther enquiry into it, and endeavour to arrive at that which is hitherto unknown by that which is already known. But all, who having rejected the ancient rules, and taken the opposite ways, yet boast themselves to be masters of this Art, do but deceive others, and are themselves deceived; for that is absolutely impossible."

This is notoriously true in these two Arts; for the way to please being to imitate nature, both the Poets and the Painters in ancient times, and in the best ages, have studied her: and from the practice of both these Arts the rules have been drawn, by which we are instructed how to please, and to compass that end which

they obtained, by following their example; for nature is still the same in all ages, and can never be contrary to herself. Thus, from the practice of Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, Aristotle drew his rules for Tragedy, and Philostratus for Painting. Thus amongst the moderns, the Italian and French critics, by studying the precepts of Aristotle and Horace, and having the example of the Grecian Poets before their eyes, have given us the rules of modern Tragedy; and thus the critics of the same countries, in the Art of Painting, have given the precepts of perfecting that Art. It is true, that Poetry has one advantage over Painting in these last ages, that we have still the remaining examples both of the Greek and Latin Poets: whereas the Painters have nothing left them from Apelles, Protogenes, Parrhasius, Zeuxis, and the rest, but only the testimonies which are given of their incomparable works. But instead of this, they have some of their best statues, basso-relievos, columns, obelisks, &c. which are saved out of the common ruin, and are still preserved in Italy; and by well distinguishing what is proper to Sculpture, and what to Painting, and what is common to them both, they have judiciously repaired that loss; and the great genius of Raphael and others, having succeeded to the times of barbarism and ignorance, the knowledge of Painting is now arrived to a supreme perfection, though the performance of it is much declined in the present age. The greatest age for Poetry amongst the Romans, was certainly that of Augustus Cæsar; and yet we are told, that Painting was then at its lowest ebb, and perhaps Sculpture was also declining at the same time. In the reign of Domitian, and some who succeeded him, Poetry was but meanly cultivated, but Painting eminently flourished. I am not here to give the history of the two Arts, how