are species. You cannot consider them as different qualities of it, for if the sublime were a mere quality of the poetical, the sublime itself could not be poetical, inasmuch as nothing can be poetical that wants any of the qualities that essentially constitute its proper nature and distinctive character, in whatever this proper character consists. But as the sublime, in this case, would be only one of the qualities that constitute the poetical, it could not be poetical itself, as it would not contain the other qualities that belong to it, as the beautiful, the picturesque, &c. The lion is distinguished from other animals by his large head, shaggy and pendent mane, strength of limb, formidable countenance, horrible roar, &c. If an animal possessed one of these qualities, such as a large head, he would not be a lion; nor even if he resembled the lion in his nature, instinct, and all the qualities by which he is distinguished, but wanted his large head, or any individual quality that essentially belongs to him, he would not be a lion, though he might belong to the tribe of which he is a species. If then the sublime, the beautiful, and the picturesque, be different qualities of the poetical, neither of them can be poetical in itself, as neither of them embraces all or any of the other qualities that belong to it; for a mental as well as a materia! object, is made up, not of one but of the whole aggregate of qualities that suggested its idea to the mind.

It is therefore evident, that if the beautiful, the sublime, and the picturesque, be poetical, they must be so many different species, of which poetical is a genus. Now, if a sublime, a beautiful, and a picturesque object, be each of them a species of the poetical, each of them must possess in itself all the qualities that constitute the poetical; as a man, a horse, and a deer, contain each of them in itself, every quality that enters into our idea of the generic term, animal. It therefore follows, that wherever we meet a sublime object or image in writing, it must be poetical, because it contains its poetical nature in itself. And this you subsequently admit, when you tell us, that objects are poetical in themselves, per se, and without any regard to the manner in which they are described. "The sun," you say, "would be

poetical if it shone upon none of the emmets of earth, man, or his little works, per se, abstractedly." You likewise affirm, that, "the ocean wants not the accessaries of any thing human to make it sublime, and therefore poetical." Wherever the sun or the ocean occurs in description, they must be therefore poetical, because their poetical nature is not contingent, not depending on the nature of the description, nor on any thing human. Now, it is easy to make an experiment, and try whether images sublime in themselves, will be poetical wherever they are met in descrip

tion. To this mode of putting your theory to the test, you cannot reasonably object, as you have yourself set the example; and if you even had not, you could not object to it. As you have particularly pitched on the sun and the ocean, as two of the objects that are always poetical, "per se, abstractedly, and without the accessaries of any thing human," I have introduced them both into the two following lines, which I hardly think you will call poetical:

The sun had risen before we left town,

And we got within sight of the ocean about five o'clock.

Now, Sir, if these two lines be not poetical, it is certain, that we may meet with your Sun and Ocean, and all your abstract poetical images, in a thousand narratives and descriptions, that have not a particle of poetry in them: and if not, to what purpose are they called poetical? Perhaps you will reply, that though these lines are not entirely poetical, yet that that part of them is poetical which is occupied by the sun and ocean. If so, the two following lines must be extremely poetical, judging of poetical lines by the portion of them devoted to poetical words,

The sun, stars, planets, and firmament,
Give light to the ocean and the earth.

If these two lines be not poetical, I fear your sublime poetical images, those images that are "poetical, without the accessaries of any thing human," are worth but little; for I cannot understand a person who tells me, that certain terms are poetical in themselves, and yet acknowledges, that two lines are not poetical in which several of them are collected together. You cannot reply, that they would be poetical if they were associated in a poetical manner; because this would be to admit, that their poetry depended upon the manner in which they were introduced, not on themselves, which is the very theory Lord Byron supports, and to which yours stands directly opposed. If you and I were to write a poem on the same subject, and agreed to introduce only the same images, the public, no doubt, would call yours a beautiful poem, and mine something that

Learn'd to crawl upon poetic feet.

Whence, then, would the difference arise? Not certainly from the difference of our subjects, or images; for they would be the same. I doubt, then, whether human ingenuity can point out any cause for your production being poetry and poetical, and mine being prosing, prosaic verse, except the difference of our manner or execution; and, consequently, the entire of poetry must depend on this manner or execution. That none of it de

pends upon the subject is manifest from my composition not being in the least degree poetical; which could not possibly be the case, if the subject or images were in the least poetical per se, abstractedly, and without the accessaries of any thing human.

If you should take a new ground, and say, that by poetical images, and a poetical subject, you mean images and subjects calculated for poetry, my argument still reduces you to the same dilemma as in the former case; for it proves, that whatever the subject or images may be, or however well calculated for poetry, the description of them will have no poetry whatever, but what it derives from the manner or execution of the poet. Whenever a description, therefore, is poetical, it derives, in all cases whatever, this character from the genius of the poet; which genius you may call manner, execution, treatment, handling, invention, genius, or by whatever other term you please. If the subject were poetical in itself, it would continue to retain this character in the most unpoetical hands. As, then, in all cases where an object or image is poetical in description, it is rendered so entirely by the manner in which it is introduced, nothing surely can be more romantic than to attribute its being poetical to any other cause than that by which it is effected.

Again, Sir, if picturesque description be a species of poetry, the following extract from a most picturesque fragment, is poetical in the highest degree:

"Sir Bertrand turned his steed towards the wolds, hoping to cross these dreary moors before the curfew. Night overtook him. It was one of those nights when the moon gives a faint glimmering of light through the thick black clouds of a lowering sky. Now and then she suddenly emerged in full splendor from her veil, and then instantly retired behind it, having just served to give the forlorn Sir Bertrand a wide extended prospect over the desolate waste.......He had not long continued in that posture when the sullen toll of a distant bell struck his ears. He started up, and, turning towards the sound, discerned a dim, twinkling light-and by a momentary glimpse of moon-light he had full view of a large, antique mansion, with turrets at the corners, and an ample porch in the centre. The injuries of time were strongly marked on every thing about it. The roof in various places was fallen in, the battlements were half demolished, and the windows broken and dismantled. A drawbridge, with a ruinous gateway at each end, led to the court before the building. He entered, and instantly the light, which proceeded from a window in one of the turrets, glided along and vanished. The moon sunk beneath a black cloud, and the night was darker than ever. was silent.-At the same instant, a deep sullen toll sounded from VOL. XX. NO. XXXIX. I

Pam.

All

the turret. He lifted up the latch of the gate-the heavy door creaking upon its hinges, reluctantly yielded to his hand.

He beheld across a hall, upon a large staircase, a pale bluish flame, which cast a dismal gleam of light around. He advanced towards it-it retired-he followed in silent horror, treading lightly, for the echoes of his footsteps startled him !"

This is exceedingly picturesque, but is it exceedingly poetical, or can it properly be called a fragment of a poem? If so,we have many poems in the English language which were never recognised as such ;-whose authors never knew themselves to be poets ;→→ and who have never been acknowledged such by the world.

It is not, however, in the least necessary to prove, that the sublime, the beautiful, and the picturesque, differ from the poetical, in order to prove the mistaken view of poetry on which your principles are founded, and the fallacy of attributing the "poetical excellency" of a poem to the subject, and not to the art and powers of the poet. I will then grant, for a moment, that whatever is sublime is also poetical; and I still maintain, that whatever is poetical in a poem, must depend on the art and powers of the poet.

I must then distinguish two sorts of sublime-the sublime in nature, and the sublime in description. These you have confounded with each other, as you have all your other terms; and no doubt this confusion of terms has served, in no small degree, to confound yourself, though it may have astonished your admirers. The naturals in this country, as well as in France, admire in proportion as they do not understand: they adore idealisms, because, in their opinion, they require neither common sense nor reason; and as nature is the most inexplicable of all things, they enlist under her banners, and affect to be her disciples, while they are, in reality, her most perverse and obstinate enemies. I distinguish, then, the sublime in nature from the sublime in description, and say, that your arguments can have reference only to the latter, though you generally rest them on the former. The sun and ocean may be as poetical as you please to make them in nature; but this poetry belongs as little to you, to Pope, or to any other poet whatever, as it does to all mankind. If the sun be poetical, this proves neither you nor him a good or bad poet: the sun has not covenanted to impart any portion of its poetry to either of you; and therefore if Bavius introduced the sun into a description, it would be as poetical as if it were introduced by Homer, so far as regards the poetry which it possesses in nature. If it carries its poetical nature with it into description, it must do so always, by whomsoever the description is written; and so far as the abstract poetical nature of the sun is poetical in description, it is

equally so in all descriptions. If, then, the sun be more poetical in one description than another, the difference must arise from the manner in which it is introduced, and therefore the superiority of the one poet over the other arises from his manner, genius, &c. and not from the sun or the introduction of it into his poem. Now, supposing you were to introduce the sun into a poem, and Mr. Campbell to introduce a ship, is it not obvious, that in comparing your respective merits as poets, and in determining which of you should rank highest in the poetical world, we must not look for a moment to the image which either of you have introduced, because if the sun were, per se, more poetical than the ship, yet this part of its poetry is no concern of yours? You derive no "poetical pre-eminence" from it; for it would be as poetical in the productions of the veriest scribbler, nay in the language of the idiot who happens to talk of the sun, as it would be in yours. If then you render it more poetical in description than a common scribbler, the difference will arise from your manner, and therefore your merits must be estimated by your manner alone, as it is it alone that has enabled you to render your description more poetical than his. If, accordingly, the mere introduction of the sun confers no "poetical pre-eminence," no eminence of any kind upon you, but what it would confer upon an idiot, and if it be manner alone that determines poetical pre-eminence, it is obvious that, in comparing your poetical merits with those of Mr. Campbell, it is only your mode of handling or treating your subject and images, that is to be taken into consideration. If therefore his manner, style, execution, invention, &c. be happier and more poetic than yours, it will be in vain for you to cry out, my description is filled with all the sublime poetical images in heaven and earth." The world will look to your manner of introducing these images, and the world, consequently, will determine your poetical merits by your manner alone.

The poet, therefore, can derive no "poetical pre-eminence" for introducing images that are sublime in nature, because their poetry or sublimity do not belong to him, and therefore, if he can claim any "poetical pre-eminence," it must be for images that are sublime in description. But what renders an image sublime in description? If you reflect for a moment, you will perceive, that it is the manner of the describer, and not the original sublimity of the object, whose image is pourtrayed. The sublimest object in creation will become ridiculous in the hands of an unskilful artist; that is, his description will not be sublime, though the object he describes is sublime in nature. The subject of the following description by Blackmore is exceedingly sublime; but the description itself is ridiculous, and affords so good an example of the "Art