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which must soon end in satiety, or poetry ; yet Alcæus was no imita. even in disgust, to a delight of the tor of love, Cillimachus was no soul, arising from sympathy, and imitator of religious awe and admi. founded on the natural passions, al. ration, Moschus w is no imitator of ways lively, always interesting, al. grief at the less of an amiable friend. ways transporting. The old divi. Aristotle himself wrote a very poe. sions of music into celestial and tical elegy on the death of a man, earthly, divine and human, active whom he had loved; bu it would and contemplative, intellective and be difficult to say what he imitated oratorial, were founded rather upon in it: “() virtue, who proj osest metaphors, and chimerical analo- many labours to the human race, gies, than upon any real distinctions and art still the alıuring object of in nature; but the want or making our life; for tliy charms, o beautia distinction between music of ful goddess, it was always an envied mere sounds, and the music of the happine's in Greece even to die, passions, has been the perpetual and to suffer the most painful, the source of confusion and contradic- most afflicting evils : such are the tions both among the ancients and immortal fruits, which thou raisest the moderns : nothing can be more in our minds; fruits, more precious opposite in many points than the than gold, mere sweet than the love systems of Rameau and Tartini, of parents, and soft repose: for thee one of whom asserts that melody Hercules the son of Jove, and the springs from harmony, and the twins of Leda, sustained many la. other deduces harmony from me. bours,and by their illustrious actions lody ; and both are in the right, if sought thy favour; for love of thee, the first speaks only of that music, Achilles and Ajax descended to the which took its rise from the multi- mansion of Pluto ; and, through a plicity of sounds heard at once in zeal for thy charms, the prince of the sonorous body, and the second, Atarnea was also deprived of the of that which rose from the accents sun's light : therefore shall the muand inflexions of the human voice, ses, daughters of memory, render animated by the passions : to de- him inmortal for his glorious deeds, cide, as Rousseau says, which of whenever they sing the god of hosthese two schools ought to have the pitality, and the honours due to a preference, we need only ask a lasting friendship.plain question, Was the voice made in the preceding collection of pofor the instruments, or the instru- ems, there are some Eastern fables, ments for the voice?

some odes, a panegyric, and an In defining what true poetry elegy : yet it does not appear to me, ought to be, according to our prin- that there is the least imitation in ciples, we have described what it either of them : Petrarch was, cer. really was among the Hebrews, the tainly, too deeply affected with real Greeks and Romans, the Arabs and grief, and the Persian poet was too Persians. The lamentation of Da- sincere a lover, to imitate the pasvid, and his sacred odes, or Psalms, sions of others. As to the rest, a the Song of Solomon, the prophe- fable in verse is no more an imita. cies of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and the tion than a fable in prose; and if eveother inspired writers, are truly ry poetical narrative, which deand strictly poetical; but what did scribes the manners, and relates the David or Solomon imitate in their adventures of men, be called imitadivine poems? Amin who is really tive, every romance, and even evejoyful or afflicted, cannot be said to ry history, must be called so likeiinitate joy or affliction. The lyric wise ; since many poems are only verses of Alcæus, Alcman, and romances, or parts of history, told Lycus, the Hymns of Callimachus, in a regular measure, the Elogy of moschus on the death What has been said of poetry, of Bion, are all beautiful pieces of may with equal force le applied to

music, which is poetry, dressed to the murmuring of a brook, or the advantage ; and even to painting, chirping of birds in a concert, we many sorts of which are poems to are generally apprised before-hand the eye, as all poems, merely de- of the passages, where we may exscriptive, are pictures to the ear: pect them. Some eminent musiand this way of considering them, cians, indeed, have been absurd will set the refinements of modern enough to think of imitating laughartists in their true light ; for the ter and other noises; but if they had passions which were given by na- succeeded, they could not have ture, never spoke in an unnatural made amends for their want of form, and no man, truly affected taste in attempting it; for such ri. with love or grief, ever expressed diculous imitations must necessarily the one in an acrostic, or the other destroy the spirit and dignity of the in a fugue: these remains, there- finest poems, which they ought to fore, of the false taste, which pre- illustrate by a graceful and natural vailed in the dark ages, should be meiody. It seems to me, that, as banished from this, which is en- those parts of poetry, music, and lightened with a just one.

painting, which relate to the pasIt is true, that some kinds of sions, affect by sympathy, so those, painting are strictly imitative, as which are merely descriptive, act that which is solely intended to re- by a kind of substitution, that is, by present the human figure and coun- raising in our minds, affections, or tenance ; but it will be found that sentiments, analogous to those, those pictures have alwars the which arise in us, when the regreatest effect, which represent spective objects in nature are presome passion, as the martyrdom of sented to our senses. Let us sup. St. Agnes by Domenichino, and the pose that a poet, a musician, and a various representations of the Cru- painter, are striving to give their ciñixion by the finest masters of friend, or patron, a pleasure simiItaly; and there can be no doubt, lar to that, which he feels at the but that the famous sacrifice of Iphi- sight of a beautiful prospect. The genia by Timanthes was affecting first will form an agreeable assem. to the highest degree; which proves blage of lively images, which he not that painting cannot be said to will express in smooth and elegant imitate, but that its most powerful verses of a sprightly measure ; he influence over the mind arises, like will describe the most delightful obthat of the other arts, from sym- jects, and will add to the gruces of pathy.

his clescription a certain delicacy of It is asserted also that descrip- sentiment, and a spirit of cheerfultive poetry, and descriptive music, ness. The musiciall, who underas they are called, are strict imita- takes to set the words of the poet, tions ; bui, not to insist that mere will select some mode, which, on description is the meanest part of his violin, has the character of both arts, if indeed it belongs to mirth and gaity, as the Folian, or them at all, it is clear, that words E fat, which he will change as the and sounds have no kind of resem. sentiment is variedl: he will express blance to visible objects : and what the words in a simple and agreeable is an imitation, but a resemblance melody, which will not disguise, but of some other thing? Besides, no embellish them, without aiming at unprejudiced hearer will say that any fugue, or figured harmony : he he finds the smallest traces of imi. will use the bass, to mark the mo. tation in the numerous fugues, coun- dulation more strongly, especially terfugues, and divisions, which ran in the changes ; and he will place ther disgrace than adorn the mor the tenour generally in unison with dern music : even sounds them. the bass, to prevent too great a disa selves are imperfectly imitated by tance between the parts : in the harmony, and, if wesometimes hear symphony he will, above all things,

avoid a double melody, and will hearer, or beholder ; since every apply his variations only to some man has a particular set of objects, accessory ideas, which the princi- and a particular inclination, which pal part, that is, the voice, could not direct him in the choice of his pleaeasily express : he will not make a sures, and induce him to consider number of useless repetitions, be- the productions, both of nature and cause the passions only repeat the of art, as more or less elegant, in same expressions, and dwell upon proportion as they give him a the same sentiments, while descrip- greater or smaller degree of detion can only represent a single ob- light: this does not at all contradict ject by a single sentence. The the opinion of many able writers, painter will describe all visible ob- that there is one uniform standard jects more exactly than his rivals, of taste ; since the passions, and, but he will fall short of the other ar consequently, sympathy, are genetists in a very material circum- rally the same in all men, till they stance ; namely, that his pencil, are weakened by age, infirmity or which may, indeed, express a siin- other causes. ple passion, cannot paint a thought, If the arguments, used in this es. or draw the shades of sentiment : say, have any weight, it will aphe will, however, finish his land. pear, that the finest parts of poetry, scape with grace and elegance; his music, and painting, are exprescolours will be rich and glowing ; sive of the passions, and operate on his perspective striking; and his our minds by sympathy; that the infigures will be disposed with an ferior parts of them are descripagreeable variety, but not with con- tive of natural objects, and affect us fusion : above all, he will diffuse chiefly by substitution ; that the exover his whole piece such a spirit of pressions of love, pity, desire, and liveliness and festivity, that the be- the tender passions, as well as the holder shall be seized with a kind of description of objects that delight rapturous delight, and, for a mo- the senses, produce in the arts ment, mistake art for nature. what we call the beautiful ; but that

Thus will each artist gain his hate, anger, fear, and the terrible end, not by imitating the works of passions, as well as objects, which nature, but by assuming her power, are unpleasing to the senses, are and causing the same effect upon productive of the sublime, when the imagination, which her charms they are aptly expressed, or deproduce to the senses : this must be scribed. the chief object of a poet, a musi. These subjects might be pursued cian, and a painter, who know that to infinity ; but, if they were amply great effects are not produced by discussed, it would be necessary to minute details, but by the general write a series of dissertations, inspirit of the whole piece, and that a stead of an essay. gaudy composition may strike the mind for a short time, but that the beauties of simplicity are both more delightful, and more permanent. HISTORY OF PHILIP DELLWYN.

As the passions are differently modified in different men, and as WHEN I was in Wales last sumeven the various objects in nature mer, I was very much struck with aifuct our minds in various degrees, the situation of a little village on it is obvious, that there must be a my road; and as my plan in travelgreat diversity in the pleasure, ling is always to adopt whatever which we receive from the fine idea promises amusement, I deterarts, whether that pleasure arises nincd, as I alighted in the yard from sympathy, or substitution; and of the inn, to remain there a few that it were a wild notion in artists days, if I could find tolerable acto think of pleasing every reader, commodations. The inn, however, was extremely wretched, and I wan- daughter Martha in the room where dered forth to see all that could be he dwelt, in tears over a roll of seen in the shortest possible space of paper, which I soon saw was in his time; for I felt that it would be im- hand-writing. Had there been a practicable to remain there so long fire at hand, I should have tossed as I hid first intended. I ascended the papers into it in a moment ; as a rugged hill to the east of the vil there was none, I contented myself lage, and as from its summit I was with taking thein from Martha, and admiring the prospect, I perceived locked them up in my bureau. a Quaker, apparently engaged in There they have lain ever since, the same amusement.--"A very until the other day, hearing talk fine view from this hill,” observed I. made of thy work, my daughter

66 Very fine indeed," replied the reminded me of these papers, and Quaker; “ lovest thou fine views ?" advised me to send them to thee.

" So well,” returned I, “ that I I have followed her advice, and this would have staid in this village for night thou wilt receive by the wagsome days to have indulged the pro gon the whole roll, to do therewith pensity, but that the inn affords no as pleaseth thee. Martha sendeth accommodations at all."

her best wishes to her old friend, as I need not, however pursue the doth also, conversation, which lasted during “ Esteemed Friend, a long walk, at the end of which, thy sincere friend my friendly Quaker invited me to

and well-wisher remain at his house till I had suffi.

ABRAHAM UPRIGHT.". ciently feasted my eyes. I accepted I had certainly not forgotten the invitation, and established my. Abraham or his fair daughter ; self there that very evening. I much less had I forgotten Philip staid there five or six days, in the Dellwyn, who joined to a look of course of which time something fragile health, a countenance so like a friendship took place between palc, a form so slight, and yet eyes the Quaker and myself, and even so resplendent with sense and senhis pretty daughter Martha mani. sibility, that it was evident a figure fested no small partiality for me. so etherial, could not be long for However, except an occasional pre- this world. I found my worthy sent now and then, to prove my friend Abraham Upright, had given gratitude, no intercourse has ever him shelter for the sake of his taken place between us, until the health, for he was trying pure air, post, the other day, brought ne a and goat's-milk wher; and had letter in a hand I was wholly unac. neverdemanded the stipulated rent, quainted with. I opened it hastily, because he remarked the unrenewand found it as follows.

ed shab'siness of his lodger's thread“ Esteemed Friend,

bare coat. I had enueavoured to “Thou wilt perhaps be obtain some knowledge of the young surprised at receiving a letter from man's fate, but could only learn it me-nay, perhaps, thou wilt have had not been happy; and I felt myforgotten the existence of Abraham self unequal to relieve any actual Upright; however, neither I nor distress ;-but his demeanour so my daughter Martha have forgot. gentle, so placid, so pensive, inten thee, but have continued to wish terestel my heart extremely, and thee all welfare and happiness every not less the l’eart of the pretty day of our lives.

Martha. Poor Deilwyn wouli lock * If thou hast not forgotten us, at her, when the uncontrouled perhaps thou rememberest the emanations of her countenance ai. young man named Philip Deilwyn. most betrayed her secret, with The young man was sick thou looks animated by the purest deknowest :-he now sleeps with his light : then suddenly, as some refathers. I one day surprised my membered trouble shot across his

heart, he would withdraw his eyes more power over my mind than the from her lovely countenance, and strictest command from my precast them from heaven to earth ceptor; and when I have been stubwith a look so mildly resigned, so born and sullen under punishment contentedly pensive, that it was from him, a look from Miss Goldney impossible to notice it unmoved. has subdued my proud heart, and

Poor little Martha confessed to melted the obstinacy of my resolume one day, that she thought Philip tion into tears of penitence. To Dellwyn the most amiable man she her I was indebted for every indulknew-she wished he was but a gence I obtained-her kindness friend. I could not help hoping sweetened to me hours rendered that some unforeseen events would intolerable by the harsh severity at last bring so innocent a love to a of Mr. Goldney ; a severity, which happy issue ;--but, alas! it was would have exasperated me to seek brought very rapidly to a period my liberty at once, but for the adafter I had left Wales. Poor Dell vantage of the knowledge I was wyn! many a sigh has the recol. acquiring: and Miss Goldney so lection of thy dejected countenance forcibly pointed out to me the value cost me-many a tear will the ter- of this circumstance, and the inmination of thy blamieless life oc- fluence it would have on my future casion ne!

life, that I was contented to abide I looked into the packet sent me stripes and ill treatment, rather by my friend Abraham, with a sort than forego the completion of an of tender melancholy, which its education which was to soften a contents served to heighten. The savage into man... first paper I unfolded was a little “That part of it however, which history of himself, which interested Miss Goidney conducted, was preme the most, and which I therefore cisely that which was dearest to first present to my readers, with me, and that which has most influ. out further ceremony. It has neither enced me through the short and regular beginning nor end, and the wretched remainder of my life. first and some intermediate leaves Full of the most noble sentiments, appear to be wanting ;-perhaps, and the tenderest sensibility, Miss the pretty Martha may have pre- Goldney, with deliglat, cultivated served them as a relique ; however, in me dispositions which ought to the tale is sufficiently intelligible. have been repressed, but which are

"And am I never to know the too fascinating not to throw a veil truth?" said I. "What good would over the dangers they create. Alive the truth do you?' replied he, with to every virtuous feeling-indigan air but ill calculated to repress nant at vice, oppression, and tyranmy ardent curiosity. "While you ny, sie saw with delight the tremu. contentedly remain in ignorance, lous fibres of my soul vibrate to added he after a pause, you will the slightest touch; she saw the be sheitered and supported; but if fire, the enthusiasm, tht animated you persist in your inquiry, you my eye---the strong resolution that will be obliged to seck your bread arose in my bosom, never to submit with toil and labour.'

to oppression. She strengthened " For some time longer these an- these dispositions-she rendered me swers contented me. I was pursu- most sensibly awake to the voice of ing with ardour an education which affection that harmonious voice I I thought preferible even to inde was destined to hear no more ! penience; and though the manners She foresaw not my future situation, of my guardian were not much cal. or she would have striven to render culted to conciliate esteem, those my heart callous to injustice, my of his sister had won my warmest spirit subservient to oppression, my affection. Gentle, caressing, and manners servile, and my principles induisent, a word from her had obedient. [To be continued.]

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