1. The Georgic is a species of narration. But, as things, not persons, are its subject (from which last alone the unity of design and continuity of action arise) this circumstance absolves it from the necessity of observing any other laws, than those of clear and perspicuous disposition, and of enlivening a matter, naturally uninteresting, by exquisite expression and pleasing digressions.
2. The Pastoral poem may be considered as a lower species of the Drama. But, its subject being the humble concerns of Shepherds, there seems no room for a tragic Plot; and their characters are too simple to afford materials for comic drawing. Their scene is indeed inchanting to the imagination. And, together with this, their little distresses may sooth us in a short song; or their fancies and humours may entertain us in a short Dialogue. And that this is the proper province of the Pastoral Muse, we may see by the ill success of those who have laboured to extend it. Tasso’s project was admired for a time. But we, now, understand that pastoral affairs will not admit a tragic pathos. And the continuance of the pastoral vein, through five long acts, is found insipid, or even distasteful. This poem then has returned to that form which its inventors gave it, and which the subject so naturally prescribes to it.
II. But, though the common end of poetry, which is to please by imitation, together with the subjects of its several species, may determine the general plan, yet is there nothing, it may be said, in the nature of things to fix the order and connexion of single parts. And here, it will be owned, is great room for invention to shew itself. The materials of poetry may be put together in so many different manners, consistently with the form which governs each species, that nothing but the power of imitation can be reasonably thought to produce a close and perpetual similarity in the composition of two works. I have said a close and perpetual similarity; for it is not every degree of resemblance, that will do here.
The general plan itself of any poem will occasion some unavoidable conformities in the disposition of its component parts. The identity or similarity of the subject may create others. Or, if no other assimilating cause intervene, the very uniformity of common nature, will, of necessity, introduce some. To explain myself as to the last of these causes.
The principal constituent members of any work, next to the essential parts of the fable, are EPISODES, DESCRIPTIONS, SIMILES. By descriptions I understand as well the delineation of characters in their speeches and imputed sentiments, as of places or things in the draught of their attending circumstances. Now not only the materials of these are common to all poets, but the same identical manner of assemblage in application of each in any poem will, in numberless cases, appear necessary.
1. The episode belongs, principally, to the epic muse; and the design of it is to diversify and ennoble the narration by digressive, yet not unrelated, ornaments; the former circumstance relieving the simplicity of the epic fable, while the other prevents its unity from being violated. Now these episodical narrations must either proceed from the poet himself, or be imputed to some other who is engaged in the course of the fable; and in either case, must help, indirectly at least, to forward it.
If of the latter kind, a probable pretext must be contrived for their introduction; which can be no other than that of satisfying the curiosity, or of serving to the necessary information of some other. And in either of these ways a striking conformity in the mode of conducting the work is unavoidable.
If the episode be referred to the former class, its manner of introduction will admit a greater latitude. For it will vary with the subject, or occasions of relating it. Yet we shall mistake, if we believe these subjects, and consequently the occasions, connected with them, very numerous. 1. They must be of uncommon dignity and splendor; otherwise nothing can excuse the going out of the way to insert them. 2. They must have some apparent connection with the fable. 3. They must further accord to the idea and state of the times, from which the fable is taken. Put these things together, and see if they will not, with probability, account for some coincidence in the choice and applications of the direct episode. And admitting this, the similarity of even its constituent parts is, also, necessary.
The genius of Virgil never suffers more in the opinion of his critics, than when his book of games comes into consideration and is confronted with Homer’s. It is not unpleasant to observe the difficulties an advocate for his fame is put to in this nice point, to secure his honour from the imputation of plagiarism. The descriptions are accurately examined; and the improvement of a single circumstance, the addition of an epithet, even the novelty of a metaphor, or varied turn in the expression, is diligently remarked and urged, with triumph, in favour of his invention. Yet all this goes but a little way towards stilling the clamour. The entire design is manifestly taken; nay, particular incidents and circumstantials are, for the most part, the same, without variation. What shall we say, then, to this charge? Shall we, in defiance of truth and fact, endeavour to confute it? Or, if allowed, is there any method of supporting the reputation of the poet? I think there is, if prejudice will but suspend its determinations a few minutes, and afford his advocate a fair hearing.
The epic plan, more especially that of the Aeneis, naturally comprehends whatever is most august in civil and religious affairs. The solemnities of funeral rites, and the festivities of public games (which religion had made an essential part of them) were, of necessity, to be included in a representation of the latter. But what games? Surely those, which ancient heroism vaunted to excell in; those, which the usage of the times had consecrated; and which, from the opinion of reverence and dignity entertained of them, were become most fit for the pomp of epic description. Further, what circumstances could be noted in these sports? Certainly those, which befell most usually, and were the aptest to alarm the spectator, and make him take an interest in them. These, it will be said, are numerous. They are so; yet such as are most to the poet’s purpose, are, with little or no variation, the same. It happened luckily for him, that two of his games, on which accordingly he hath exerted all the force of his genius, were entirely new. This advantage, the circumstances of the times afforded him. The Naumachia was purely his own. Yet so liable are even the best and most candid judges to be haunted by this spectre of imitation, that one, whom every friend to every human excellence honours, cannot help, on comparing it with the chariot-race of Homer, exclaiming in these words: “What is the encounter of Cloanthus and Gyas in the strait between the rocks, but the same with that of Menelaus and Antilochus in the hollow way? Had the galley of Serjestus been broken, if the chariot of Eumelus had not been demolished? Or, Mnestheus been cast from the helm, had not the other been thrown from his seat?” The plain truth is, it was not possible, in describing an ancient sea-fight, for one, who had even never seen Homer, to overlook such usual and striking particulars, as the justling of ships, the breaking of galleys, and loss of pilots.