once more in the same morning to the governor's hall, to carry on the conspiracy with Syphax against the governor, his country, and his family; which is so stupid that it is below the wisdom of the O-'s, the Mac's, and the Teague's; even Eustace Cummins himself would never have gone to Justice-hall, to have conspired against the government. If officers at Portsmouth should lay their heads together, in order to the carrying off* J-G-'s niece or daughter, would they meet in J-G-'s hall, to carry on that conspiracy? There would be no necessity for their meeting their plot, because there would be other places to meet in. There would be no probability that they should meet there, because there would be places more private and more commodious. Now there ought to be nothing in a tragical action but what is necessary or probable. does it not follow from what has been said, that for a man to receive the news of his son's death with dry eyes, and to weep at the same time for the calamities of his country, is a wretched affectation, and a miserable inconsistency? Is not that, in plain English, to receive with dry eyes the news of the deaths of those for whose sake our country is a name so dear to us, and at the same time to shed tears for those for whose sakes our country is not a name so dear to us?" But this formidable assailant is less resistible when he attacks the probability of the action, and the reasonableness of the plan. Every criti-there, at least till they came to the execution of cal reader must remark, that Addison has, with a scrupulosity almost unexampled on the English stage, confined himself in time to a single day, and in place to a rigorous unity. The scene never changes, and the whole action of the play passes in the great hall of Cato's house at Utica. Much therefore is done in the hall, for which "But treason is not the only thing that is any other place would be more fit; and this im- carried on in this hall; that, and love, and phipropriety affords Dennis many hints of merri-losophy, take their turns in it, without any manment, and opportunities of triumph. The pas-ner of necessity or probability, occasioned by sage is long but as such disquisitions are not the action, as duly and as regularly, without common, and the objections are skilfully formed interrupting one another, as if there were a and vigorously urged, those who delight in criti- triple feague between them, and a mutual cal controversy will not think it tedious. agreement that each should give place to, and make way for, the other, in a due and orderly succession. 66 Upon the departure of Portius, Sempronius makes but one soliloquy, and immediately in comes Syphax, and then the two politicians are "We now come to the third Act. Semproat it immediately. They lay their heads to-nius, in this Act, comes into the governor's hall, gether, with their snuff-boxes in their hands, as with the leaders of the mutiny: but, as soon as Mr. Bayes has it, and feague it away. But, in Cato is gone, Sempronius, who but just before the midst of that wise scene, Syphax seems to had acted like an unparalleled knave, discovers give a seasonable caution to Sempronius: himself, like an egregious fool, to be an accomplice in the conspiracy. Syph. But is it true, Sempronius, that your senate "There is a great deal of caution shown, indeed, in meeting in a governor's own hall to carry on their plot against him. Whatever opinion they have of his eyes, I suppose they have none of his ears, or they would never have talked at this foolish rate so near: Gods! thou must be cautious. Oh! yes, very cautious; for if Cato should overhear you, and turn you off for politicians, Cæsar would never take you; no, Cæsar would never take you. "When Cato, Act II. turns the senators out of the hall, upon pretence of acquainting Juba with the result of their debates, he appears to me to do a thing which is neither reasonable nor civil. Juba might certainly have better been made acquainted with the result of that debate in some private apartment of the palace. But the Poet was driven upon this absurdity to make way for another; and that is, to give Juba an opportunity to demand Marcia of her father. But the quarrel and rage of Juba and Syphax, in the same Act; the invectives of Syphax, against the Romans and Cato; the advice that he gives Juba, in her father's hall, to bear away Marcia by force; and his brutal and clamorous rage upon his refusal, and at a time when Cato was scarcely out of sight, and perhaps not out of hearing, at least some of his guards or domestics must necessarily be supposed to be within hearing; is a thing that is so far from being probable, that it is hardly possible. "Sempronius, in the second Act, comes back Semp. Know, 'villains, when such paltry slaves pre sume To mix in treason, if the plot succeeds, "It is true, indeed, the second leader says, there are none there but friends; but is that possible at such a juncture? Can a parcel of town of war, in his own house, in mid-day? rogues attempt to assassinate the governor of a and, after they are discovered, and defeated, can there be none near them but friends? Is it not plain from these words of Sempronius, Here, take these factious monsters, drag them forth and from the entrance of the guards upon the Gibson, lieutenant-governor of Portsmouth, in the year The person meant by the initials J. G. is Sir John and by the common soldiers called Johnny Gibson.-H 1710, and afterwards. He was much beloved in the army, great deal of passion; but there is wisdom more | show the absurdities which the Author has run than enough to supply all defects. Still there remains an after-game to play : Semp. Confusion! I have failed of half my purpose; Marcia, the charming Marcia's left behind. Well! but though he tells us the half purpose he has failed of, he does not tell us the half that he has carried. But what does he mean by Marcia, the charming Marcia's left behind? He is now in her own house! and we have neither seen her, nor heard of her, any where else, since the play began. But now let us hear Syphax: What hinders, then, but that you find her out, But what does old Syphax mean by finding her out? They talk as if she were as hard to be found as a hare in a frosty morning. Semp. But how to gain admission! But how to gain admission! for access Is given to none but Juba and her brothers. But, raillery apart, why access to Juba! For he was owned and received as a lover neither by the father nor by the daughter. Well! but let that pass. Syphax puts Sempronius out of pain immediately; and, being a Numidian abounding in wiles, supplies him with a stratagem for admission, that, I believe, is a non-pareille. Syph. Thou shalt have Juba's dress, and Juba's guards. The doors will open when Numidia's prince "Sempronius is, it seems, to pass for Juba in full day, at Cato's house, where they were both so very well known, by having Juba's dress and his guards; as if one of the marshals of France could pass for the Duke of Bavaria at noonday, at Versailles, by having his dress and liveries. But how does Syphax pretend to help Sempronius to young Juba's dress? Does he serve him in a double capacity, as a general and master of his wardrobe? But why Juba's guards? For the devil of any guards has Juba appeared with yet. Well! though this is a mighty politic invention, yet, methinks, they might have done without it; for, since the advice that Syphax gave to Sempronius was To hurry her away by manly force; in my opinion, the shortest and likeliest way of coming at the lady was by demolishing, instead of putting on an impertinent disguise to circumvent two or three slaves. But Sempronius, it seems, is of another opinion. He extols to the skies the invention of old Syphax : Semp. Heav'ns! what a thought was there! 'Now I appeal to the reader if I have not been as good as my word. Did I not tell him, that I would lay before him a very wise scene? "But now let us lay before the reader that part of the scenery of the fourth Act which may into, through the indiscreet observance of the unity of place. I do not remember that Aristotle has said any thing expressly concerning the unity of place. It is true, implicitly, he has said enough in the rules which he has laid down for the chorus. For by making the chorus an essential part of tragedy, and by bringing it on the stage immediately after the opening of the scene, and retaining it till the very catastrophe, he has so determined and fixed the place of action, that it was impossible for an author on the Grecian stage to break through that unity. I am of opinion, that if a modern tragic poet can preserve the unity of place without destroying the probability of the incidents, it is always best that unity, as we have taken notice above, he for him to do it; because, by the preserving of adds grace, and clearness, and comeliness, to the representation. Eut since there are no express rules about it, and we are under no compulsion to keep it, since we have no chorus as the Grecian poet had, if it cannot be preserved without rendering the greater part of the incidents unreasonable and absurd, and perhaps sometimes monstrous, it is certainly better to break it. "Now comes bully Sempronius, comically accoutred and equipped with his Numidian dress and his Numidian guards. Let the reader attend to him with all his ears; for the words of the wise are precious : Semp. The deer is lodg'd, I 've track'd her to her Covert. "Now I would fain know why this deer is said to be lodged, since we have heard not one word, since the play began, of her being at all out of harbour; and if we consider the discourse with which she and Lucia begin the Act, we have reason to believe that they had hardly been talking of such matters in the street. However, to pleasure Sempronius, let us suppose, for once, that the deer is lodged. The deer is lodg'd, I've track'd her to her covert. "If he had seen her in the open field, what occasion had he to track her, when he had so many Numidian dogs at his heels, which, with one halloo, he might have set upon her haunches? If he did not see her in the open field, how could he possibly track her? If he had seen her in the street, why did he not set upon her in the street, since through the street she must be carried at last? Now here, instead of having his thoughts upon his business and upon the present danger; instead of meditating and contriving how he shall pass with his mistress through the southern gate, (where her brother Marcus is upon the guard, and where he would certainly prove an impediment to him,) which is the Roman word for the baggage; instead of doing this, Sempronius is entertaining himself with whimsies: Semp. How will the young Numidian rave to see Twould be to torture that young, gay barbarian. "Pray, what are those his guards?' I thought, at present, that Juba's guards had been Sempronius's tools, and had been dangling | applies what Marcia says to Sempronius. But after his heels. "But now let us sum up all these absurdities together. Sempronius goes at noonday, in Juba's clothes and with Juba's guards, to Cato's palace, in order to pass for Juba, in a place where they were both so very well known; he meets Juba there, and resolves to murder him with his own guards. Upon the guards appearing a little bashful, he threatens them: Hah! Dastards, do you tremble! finding at last, with much ado, that he himself is the happy man, he quits his eavedropping, and discovers himself just time enough to prevent his being cuckolded by a dead man, of whom the moment before he had appeared so jealous; and greedily intercepts the bliss which was fondly designed for one who could not be the better for it. But here I must ask a question: how comes Juba to listen here, who had not listened before throughout the play? Or how comes he to be the only person of this tragedy who lis"But the guards still remaining restive, Sem-tens, when love and treason were so often talked pronius himself attacks Juba, while each of the in so public a place as a hall? I am afraid the guards is representing Mr. Spectator's sign of Author was driven upon all these absurdities the Gaper, awed, it seems, and terrified by Sem-only to introduce this miserable mistake of Marpronius's threats. Juba kills Sempronius, and cia, which, after all, is much below the dignity takes his own army prisoners, and carries them of tragedy, as any thing is which is the effect or in triumph away to Cato. Now I would fain know if any part of Mr. Bayes's tragedy is so full of absurdity as this? Or act like men; or, by yon azure heaven result of trick. "But let us come to the scenery of the fifth Act. Cato appears first upon the scene, sitting in a thoughtful posture: in his hand Plato's sword on the table by him. Now let us contreatise on the Immortality of the Soul; a drawn sider the place in which this sight is presented to us. The place, forsooth, is a long hall. Let in this posture, in the midst of one of our halls us suppose, that any one should place himself in London; that he should appear solus in a him; in his hand Plato's treatise on the Immorsullen posture, a drawn sword on the table by Lintot: I desire the reader to consider, whether tality of the Soul, translated lately by Bernard such a person as this would pass, with them who beheld him, for a great patriot, a great phisymp-son, who fancied himself all these? and whether losopher, or a general, or some whimsical perthe people, who belonged to the family, would think that such a person had a design upon their midriffs or his own? "Upon hearing the clash of swords, Lucia and Marcia come in. The question is, why no men come in upon hearing the noise of swords in the governor's hall? Where was the governor himself? Where were his guards? Where were his servants? Such an attempt as this, so near the person of a governor of a place of war, was enough to alarm the whole garrison; and yet, for almost half an hour after Sempronius was killed, we find none of those appear who were the likeliest in the world to be alarmed: and the noise of swords is made to draw only two poor women thither, who were most certain to run away from it. Upon Lucia and Marcia's coming in, Lucia appears in all the toms of an hysterical gentlewoman: Luc. Sure 'twas the clash of swords! my troubled heart Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows, "In short, that Cato should sit long enough in the aforesaid posture, in the midst of this And immediately her old whimsy returns upon large hall, to read over Plato's treatise on the her: O Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sake- She fancies that there can be no cutting of The face is muffled up within the garment. "Now, how a man could fight, and fall with his face muffled up in his garment, is, I think, a little hard to conceive! Besides, Juba, before he killed him, knew him to be Sempronius. It was not by his garment that he knew this; it was by his face then his face therefore was not muffled. Upon seeing this man with his muffled face, Marcia falls a-raving; and, owning her passion for the supposed defunct, begins to make his funeral oration. Upon which Juba enters listening, I suppose on tip-toe; for I cannot imagine how any one can enter listening in any other posture. I would fain know how it comes to pass, that during all this time he had sent nobody, no, not so much as a candle-snuffer, to take away the dead body of Sempronius. Well! but let us regard him listening. Having left his apprehension behind him, he, at first, Immortality of the Soul, which is a lecture of two long hours; that he should propose to himself to be private there upon that occasion; that he should be angry with his son for intruding there; then, that he should leave this hall upon the pretence of sleep, give himself the mortal wound in his bedchamber, and then be brought back into that hall to expire, purely to show his good-breeding, and save his friends the trouble of coming up to his bedchamber; all this appears to me to be improbable, incredible, impossible." Such is the censure of Dennis. There is, as Dryden expresses it, perhaps "too much horseplay in his raillery ;" but if his jests are coarse, his arguments are strong. Yet, as we love better to be pleased than be taught, "Cato" is read and the critic is neglected. Flushed with consciousness of these detections of absurdity in the conduct, he afterwards attacked the sentiments, of Cato; but he then amused himself with petty cavils and minute objections. Of Addison's smaller poems, no particular mention is necessary; they have little that can employ or require a critic. The parallel of the princes and gods, in his verses to Kneller, is often happy, but is too well known to be quoted. His translations, so far as I have compared them, want the exactness of a scholar. That | whose remarks, being superficial, might be easily he understood his authors cannot be doubted; understood, and being just, might prepare the but his versions will not teach others to under- mind for more attainments. Had he presented stand them, being too licentiously paraphrasti- "Paradise Lost" to the public with all the pomp cal. They are, however, for the most part, of system and severity of science, the criticism smooth and easy; and, what is the first excel- would perhaps have been admired, and the lence of a translator, such as may be read with poem still have been neglected; but by the pleasure by those who do not know the origi- blandishments of gentleness and facility he has nals. made Milton a universal favourite, with whom readers of every class think it necessary to be pleased. His poetry is polished and pure; the product of a mind too judicious to commit faults, but not sufficiently vigorous to attain excellence. He has sometimes a striking line, or a shining paragraph; but in the whole he is warm rather than fervid, and shows more dexterity than strength. He was, however, one of our earliest examples of correctness. He descended now and then to lower disquisitions; and by a serious display of the beauties of "Chevy-Chase," exposed himself to the ridicule of Wagstaffe, who bestowed a like pompous character on "Tom Thumb ;" and to the contempt of Dennis, who, considering the funThe versification which he had learned from damental position of his criticism, that "ChevyDryden he debased rather than refined. His Chase" pleases, and ought to please, because it rhymes are often dissonant; in his "Georgic" is natural, observes, that "there is a way of he admits broken lines. He uses both triplets deviating from nature, by bombast or tumour, and Alexandrines, but triplets more frequently which soars above nature, and enlarges images in his translations than his other works. The beyond their real bulk; by affectation, which mere structure of verses seems never to have en- forsakes nature in quest of something unsuitgaged much of his care. But his lines are very able; and by imbecility, which degrades nature smooth in "Rosamond," and too smooth in by faintness and diminution, by obscuring its "Cato." appearances, and weakening its effects." In Addison is now to be considered as a critic;" Chevy-Chase" there is not much of either a name which the present generation is scarcely willing to allow him. His criticism is condemned as tentative or experimental, rather than scientific; and he is considered as deciding by taste* rather than by principles. It is not uncommon for those who have grown wise by the labour of others, to add a little of their own, and overlook their masters. Addison is now despised by some who perhaps would never have seen his defects, but by the lights which he afforded them. That he always wrote as he would think it necessary to write now, cannot be affirmed: his instructions were such as the characters of his readers made proper. That general knowledge which now circulates in common talk was in his time rarely to be found. Men not professing learning were not ashamed of ignorance; and, in the female world, any acquaintance with books was distinguished only to be censured. His purpose was to infuse literary curiosity, by gentle and unsuspected conveyance, into the gay, the idle, and the wealthy; he therefore presented knowledge in the most alluring form, not lofty and austere, but accessible and familiar. When he showed them their defects, he showed them likewise that they might be easily supplied. His attempt succeeded; inquiry was awakened, and comprehension expanded. An emulation of intellectual elegance was excited; and, from this time to our own, life has been gradually exalted, and conversation purified and enlarged. Dryden had, not many years before, scattered criticism over his prefaces with very little parsimony; but though he sometimes condescended to be somewhat familiar, his manner was in general too scholastic for those who had yet their rudiments to learn, and found it not easy to understand their master. His observations were framed rather for those that were learning to write, than for those that read only to talk. An instructor like Addison was now wanting, Taste must decide. Warton.-C. bombast or affectation; but there is chill and lifeless imbecility. The story cannot possibly be told in a manner that shall make less impression on the mind. Before the profound observers of the present race repose too securely on the consciousness of their superiority to Addison, let them consider his Remarks on Ovid, in which may be found specimens of criticism sufficiently subtle and refined: let them peruse likewise his "Essays on Wit" and on the "Pleasures of Imagination," in which he founds art on the base of nature, and draws the principles of invention from dispositions inherent in the mind of man, with skill and elegance,* such as his contemners will not easily attain. As a describer of life and manners, he must be allowed to stand perhaps the first of the first rank. His humour, which, as Steele observes, is peculiar to himself, is so happily diffused as to give the grace of novelty to domestic scenes and daily occurrences. He never "outsteps the modesty of nature," nor raises merriment or wonder by the violation of truth. His figures neither divert by distortion nor amaze by aggravation. He copies life with so much fidelity, that he can be hardly said to invent; yet his exhibitions have an air so much original, that it is difficult to suppose them not merely the products of imagination. As a teacher of wisdom he may be confidently followed. His religion has nothing in it enthusiastic or superstitious; he appears neither weakly credulous nor wantonly skeptical; his morality is neither dangerously lax nor imprac ticably rigid. All the enchantment of fancy and all the cogency of argument are employed to recommend to the reader his real interest, the care of pleasing the Author of his being. Truth is shown sometimes as the phantom of a vision; sometimes appears half-veiled in an allegory; sometimes attracts regard in the robes of fancy; Far, in Dr. Warton's opinion, beyond Dryden.-C. and sometimes steps forth in the confidence of reason. She wears a thousand dresses, and in all is pleasing. Mille habet ornatus, mille decenter habet. His prose is the model of the middle style; on grave subjects not formal, on light occasions not grovelling; pure without scrupulosity, and exact without apparent elaboration; always equable and always easy, without glowing words or pointed sentences. Addison never deviates from his track to snatch a grace: he seeks no ambitious ornaments, and tries no hazardous innovations. His page is always luminous, but never blazes in unexpected splendour. It was apparently his principal endeavour to avoid all harshness and severity of diction; he is therefore sometimes verbose in his transitions and connexions, and sometimes descends too much to the language of conversation; yet if his language had been less idiomatical, it might have lost somewhat of its genuine Anglicism. What he attempted, he performed: he is never feeble, and he did not wish to be energetic ;* he is never rapid, and he never stagnates. His sentences have neither studied amplitude nor affected brevity: his periods, though not diligently rounded, are voluble and easy. Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar, but not coarse, and elegant, but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison, But, says Dr. Warton, he sometimes is so; and in another MS. note he adds, often so.-C. HUGHES. JOHN HUGHES, the son of a citizen in Lon- | don, and of Anne Burgess, of an ancient family in Wiltshire, was born at Marlborough, July 29, 1677. He was educated at a private school; and though his advances in literature are, in the "Biographia," very ostentatiously displayed, the name of his master is somewhat ungratefully concealed.* At nineteen he drew the plan of a tragedy; and paraphrased, rather too profusely, the ode of Horace which begins Integer Vite. To poetry he added the science of music, in which he seems to have attained considerable skill, together with the practice of design, or rudiments of painting. His studies did not withdraw him wholly from business, nor did business hinder him from study. He had a place in the office of ordnance; and was secretary to several commissions for purchasing lands necessary to secure the royal docks at Chatham and Portsmouth; yet found time to acquaint himself with modern lan guages. In 1697, he published a poem on the "Peace of Ryswick:" and in 1699, another piece, called "The Court of Neptune," on the return of King William, which he addressed to Mr. Montague, the general patron of the followers of the Muses. The same year he produced a song on the Duke of Gloucester's birthday. He did not confine himself to poetry, but cultivated other kinds of writing with great success; and about this time showed his knowledge of human nature by an "Essay on the Pleasure of being Deceived." In 1702, he published, on the death of King William, a Pindaric ode, called "The House of Nassau ;" and wrote another paraphrase on the Otium Divos of Horace. In 1703, his Ode on Music was performed at *He was educated in a dissenting academy, of which the Rev. Thomas Rowe was tutor; and was a fellow student there with Dr. Isaac Watts, Mr. Samuel Say, and other persons of eminence. In the "Hora Lyrica" of Dr. Watts, is a poem to the memory of Mr. Rowe.--H. Stationers' Hall; and he wrote afterwards six cantatas, which were set to music by the greatest master of that time, and seemed intended to oppose or exclude the Italian opera, an exotic and irrational entertainment, which has been always combated, and always has prevailed. His reputation was now so far advanced, that the public began to pay reverence to his name; and he was solicited to prefix a preface to the translation of Boccalini, a writer whose satirical vein cost him his life in Italy, and who never, I believe, found many readers in this country, even though introduced by such powerful recommendation. He translated Fontenelle's "Dialogues of the Dead ;" and his version was perhaps read at that time, but is now neglected; for by a book not necessary, and owing its reputation wholly to its turn of diction, little notice can be gained but from those who can enjoy the graces of the original. To the "Dialogues" of Fontenelle he added two composed by himself; and, though not only an honest but a pious man, dedicated his work to the Earl of Wharton. He judged skilfully enough of his own interest; for Wharton, when he went lord-lieutenant to Ireland, offered to take Hughes with him and establish him: but Hughes, having hopes, or promises, from another man in power, of some provision more suitable to his inclination, declined Wharton's offer, and obtained nothing from the other. He translated the "Miser" of Moliere, which he never offered to the stage; and occasionally amused himself with making versions of favourite scenes in other plays. Being now received as a wit among the wits, he paid his contributions to literary undertakings, and assisted both the "Tatler," "Spectator,” and “Guardian." In 1712, he translated Vertot's "History of the Revolution of Portugal," produced an "Ode to the Creator of the World, from the Fragments of Orpheus," and brought upon the stage an opera called "Calypso and Telemachus," intended to show |