The Henriade of Voltaire errs greatly against the foregoing rule: every incident is touched in a fummary way, without ever defcending to its circumftances. This manner is good in a general history, the purpofe of which is to record important tranfactions: but in a fable, which hath a very different aim, it is cold and uninterefting; because it is impracticable to form diftinct images of perfons or things reprefented in a manner fo fuperficial.

It is obferved above, that every useless circumftance ought to be fuppreffed. To deal in fuch circumstances, is, on the one hand, not lefs to be avoided, than the concifenefs for which Voltaire is blamed, on the other. In the Eneid*, Barce, the nurfe of Sichæus, whom we never hear of before nor after, is introduced for a purpofe not more important than to call Anna to her fifter Dido and that it might not be thought unjuft in Dido, even in this trivial incident, 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 muft oppose a beautiful paffage in the fame book, where, after Dido's last speech, the poet, without detaining his reader by defcribing the manner of her death, haftens to the lamentation of her attendants:

Dixerat: atque illam media inter talia ferro
Collapfam afpiciunt comites, enfemque cruore

* Lib. 4. 1. 632,

Spumantem,

Spumantem, fparfafque manus. It clamor ad alta
Atria, concuffam bacchatur fama per urbem;"
Lamentis gemituque et foemineo ululatu

Tecta fremunt, refonat magnis plangoribus æther.
Lib. 4. 1. 663.

As an appendix to the foregoing rule, I add the following obfervation, That to make a fudden and strong impreffion, fome fingle circumstance happily felected, has more power than the moft laboured defcription. Macbeth, mentioning to his lady fome voices he heard while he was murdering the King, fays,

There's one did laugh in's fleep, and one cry'd Murder!...... They wak'd each other; and I stood and heard them; But they did fay their prayers, and addrefs them

Again to fleep.

Lady. There are two lodg'd together.

Macbeth. One cry'd, God blefs us! and, Amen! the
other;

As they had feen me with these hangman's hands.
Listening their fear, I could not fay, Amen,
When they did fay, God blefs us.

Lady. Confider it not fo deeply.

Macbeth. But wherefore could not I pronounce A

men?

I had moft need of bleffing, and Amen

Stuck in my throat.

Lady. Thefe deeds must not be thought After these ways; fo, it will make us mad. Macbeth. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more!

Macbeth doth murther fleep, &c.

At 2. fc. 3.

Alphonfo,

Alphonfo, in the Mourning Bride, fhut up in the fame prifon where his father had been confined:

In a dark corner of my cell I found

This paper, what it is this light will fhew.

"If my Alphonfo live, restore him, Heav'n;

[Reading

"Give me more weight, crush my declining years
"With bolts, with chains, imprisonment, and want;
"But blefs my fon, visit not him for me."

It is his hand; this was his pray'r - yet more:
"Let ev'ry hair, which forrow by the roots
"Tears from my hoary and devoted head,

"Be doubled in thy mercies to my

fon:

[Reading.

"Not for myself, but him, hear me, all-gracious”

Tis wanting what should follow-Heav'n fhould 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 this is torn,

So did it tear the ears of mercy from

His voice, fhutting the gates of pray'r against him.
If piety be thus debarr'd accefs

On high, and of good men the very best

Is fingled out to bleed, and bear the scourge,
What is reward? or what is punishment?
But who fhall dare to tax eternal justice?

Mourning Bride, act 3. fc.1.

This incident is a happy invention, and a mark

of uncommon genius.

Defcribing

Defcribing Prince Henry :

I faw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuiffes on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,
Rife from the ground like feather'd Mercury;
And vaulted with fuch ease into his feat,
As if an angel dropt down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegafus,

And witch the world with noble horfemanship.

First Part Henry IV. act 4. fc. 2.

King Henry. Lord Cardinal, if thou think'ft on Hea

ven's blifs,

Hold up thy hand, make fignal of thy hope.

He dies, and makes no fign!

Second Part Henry VI. act 3. fc. 10.

The fame author, fpeaking ludicrously of an army debilitated with diseases, fays,

Half of them dare not shake the fnow from off their affocks, left they shake themselves to pieces.

I have feen the walls of Balclutha, but they were defolate. The flames had refounded in the halls: and the voice of the people is heard no more. The ftream of Glutha was removed from its place by the fall of the walls. The thistle shook there its lonely head: the mofs whistled to the wind. The fox looked out from the windows: and the rank grafs of the wall waved round his head. Defolate is the dwelling of Morna: filence is in the house of her fathers.

Fingal.

To draw a character is the mafter-stroke of de

fcription.

fcription. In this Tacitus excels: his portraits
are natural and lively, not a feature wanting nor
mifplaced. Shakespear,
Shakespear, however, exceeds Ta-
citus in livelinefs, fome characteristical circum-
ftance being generally invented or laid hold of,
which paints more to the life than many words.
The following inftances will explain my mean-
ing, and at the fame time prove my obfervation
to be just.

Why fhould a man, whofe blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandfire cut in alabaster ?

Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice,
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Anthonio,
(I love thee, and it is my love that speaks):
'There are a fort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond;
And do a wilful ftillnefs entertain,
With purpose to be drefs'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who fhould fay, I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
O my Anthonio, I do know of thofe,
That therefore only are reputed wife,
For faying nothing.

Again:

Merchant of Venice, at 1. fc. 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 fearch.

Ibid.