Thus far the candid reader may go in apologizing for the merits of these writers. But, as, in sound criticism, candour must not be indulged at the expence of justice, I think myself obliged to add an observation concerning their defects; and that, on what I must think the just principles here delivered.
Though the method, taken by these writers, be scientifical, the real service they have done to criticism, is not very considerable. And the reason is, they dwell too much in generals: that is, not only the genus to which they refer their species is too large, but those very subordinate species themselves are too comprehensive.
Of the three critics, under consideration, the most instructive is, unquestionably, Longinus. The genus itself, under which he ranks his several classes, is as particular as the species of the other two. Yet even his classes are much too general to convey my very distinct and useful information. It had been still better, if this fine critic had descended to lower and more minute particularities, as subordinate to each class. For to observe of any sentiment, that it is grand, or pathetic, and so of the other species, of sublime, is saying very little. Few readers want to be informed of this. It had been sufficient, if any notice was to be taken at all of so general beauties, to have done it in the way, which some of the best critics have taken, of merely pointing to them. But could he have discovered and produced to observation those peculiar qualities in sentiment, which occasion the impression of grandeur, pathos, &c. this had been advancing the science of criticism very much, as tending to lay open the more secret and hidden springs of that pleasure, which results from poetical composition.
P. Bouhours, as I observed, is still more faulty. His very species are so large, as make his criticism almost wholly useless and insignificant.
It gives one pain to refuse to such a writer as Mr. Addison any kind of merit, which he appears to have valued himself upon, and which the generality of his readers have seemed willing to allow him. Yet it must not be dissembled, that criticism was by no means his talent. His taste was truly elegant; but he had neither that vigour of understanding, nor chastised, philosophical spirit, which are so essential to this character, and which we find in hardly any of the ancients besides Aristotle, and but in a very few of the moderns. For what concerns his criticism on Milton in particular, there was this accidental benefit arising from it, that it occasioned an admirable poet to be read, and his excellencies to be observed. But for the merit of the work itself, if there be any thing just in the plan, it was, because Aristotle and Bossu had taken the same route before him. And as to his own proper observations, they are for the most part, so general and indeterminate, as to afford but little instruction to the reader, and are, not unfrequently, altogether frivolous. They are of a kind with those, in which the French critics (for I had rather instance in the defects of foreign writers than of our own) so much abound; and which good judges agree to rank in the worst sort of criticism. To give one example for all.
Cardinal Perron, taking occasion to commend certain pieces of the poet Ronsard, chuses to deliver himself in the following manner: “Prenez de lui quelque poëme que ce soit, il paye toujours son lecteur, et quand la verve le prend, il se guinde en haut, il vous porte jusques dans les nuës, il vous fait voir mille belles choses.
“Que ses saisons sont bien-faites! Que la description de la lyre a Bertaut est admirable! Que le discours au ministre, excellent! Tous ses hymnes sont beaux. Celui de l’eternité est admirable; ceux des saisons marveilleux.” [Perroniana.]
What now has the reader learned from this varied criticism, but that his Eminence was indeed very fond of his poet; and that he esteemed these several pieces to be (what with less expence of words he might, in one breath, have called them) well-turned, beautiful, excellent, admirable, marvellous, poems? To have given us the true character of each, and to have marked the precise degree, as well as kind, of merit in these works, had been a task of another nature.
211.—QUI PECTUS INANITER ANGIT,] The word inaniter as well as falsi, applied in the following line to terrores, would express that wondrous force of dramatic representation, which compels us to take part in feigned adventures and situations, as if they were real; and exercises the passions with the same violence, in remote fancied scenes, as in the present distresses of real life.