The _pastoral drama_ is an invention of the moderns. The first who attempted this species of poetry was _Agostino de Beccari_, in his _Sacrificio Favola Pastorale_, printed in 1553. _Ta.s.so_ is supposed to have taken the hint from him; and is allowed, in his _Aminta_, published in 1573, to have far surpa.s.sed his master. _Guarini_ followed, whose _Pastor Fido_ contends for the palm with the _Aminta_, and, in the general opinion of the Italians, is judged to have obtained it. _Ta.s.so_ himself is said to have confessed the superior merit of his rival's work; but to have added, in his own defence, that had _Guarini_ never seen his _Aminta_, he never would have surpa.s.sed it. Yet, I think, there is little doubt, that this preference is ill-founded. Both these compositions have resplendent beauties, with glaring defects and improprieties. I am, however, much mistaken, if the latter are not more abundant in the _Pastor Fido_, as the former are predominant in the _Aminta_. Both will ever be admired, for beauty of poetical expression, for rich imagery, and for detached sentiments of equal delicacy and tenderness: but the fable, both of the _Aminta_, and _Pastor Fido_, errs against all probability; and the general language and sentiments of the characters are utterly remote from nature. The fable of the _Aminta_ is not dramatic; for it is such, that the princ.i.p.al incidents, on which the plot turns, are incapable of representation: the beautiful _Silvia_, stripped naked, and bound by her hair to a tree by a brutal satyr, and released by her lover _Amyntas_;--her flight from the wolves;--the precipitation of _Amyntas_ from a high rock, who narrowly escapes being dashed in pieces, by having his fall broken by the stump of a tree;--are all incidents, incapable of being represented to the eye; and must therefore be thrown into narration. The whole of the last act is narrative, and is taken up entirely with the history of _Amyntas's_ fall, and the happy change produced in the heart of the rigorous _Silvia_, when she found her lover thus miraculously preserved from the cruel death, to which her barbarity had prompted him to expose himself.

Yet, the fable of the _Aminta_, unnatural and undramatic, as it is, has the merit of simplicity. That of the _Pastor Fido_, equally unnatural and incredible, has the additional demerit of being complicated as well as absurd. The distress of _Amyntas_, arising from an adequate and natural cause--rejected love, excites our sympathy; but the distress in the _Pastor Fido_ is altogether chimerical; we have no sympathy with the calamities arising from the indignation of _Diana_, or the supposed necessity of accomplishing the absurd and whimsical response of an _oracle_. We cannot be affected by the pa.s.sions of fict.i.tious beings. The love of a _satyr_ has nothing in it but what is odious and disgusting.

The defects of these celebrated poems have arisen from the erroneous idea entertained by their authors, that the province of this species of poetry was not to imitate nature, but to paint that chimerical state of society, which is termed the _golden age_. _Mr. Addison_, who, in the Guardian, has treated the subject of pastoral poetry at considerable length, has drawn his critical rules from that absurd principle; for he lays it down as a maxim, that, to form a right judgment of pastoral poetry, it is necessary to cast back our eyes on the first ages of the world, and inquire into the manners of men, "before they were formed into large societies, cities built, or commerce established: a state," says he, "of ease, innocence, and contentment; where plenty begot pleasure, and pleasure begot singing, and singing begot poetry, and poetry begot singing again:" a description this, which is so fantastical, as would almost persuade us, that the writer meant to ridicule his own doctrine, if the general strain of his criticism did not convince us it was seriously delivered. Is it necessary to prove, that this notion of pastoral poetry, however founded, in the practice of celebrated writers, has no foundation in fact, no basis in reason, nor conformity to good sense?

To a just taste, and unadulterated feelings, the natural beauties of the country, the simple manners, rustic occupations, and rural enjoyments of its inhabitants, brought into view by the medium of a well-contrived dramatic fable, must afford a much higher degree of pleasure, than any chimerical fiction, in which Arcadian nymphs and swains hold intercourse with Pan and his attendant fauns and satyrs.

If the position be disputed, let the _Gentle Shepherd_ be fairly compared with the _Aminta_, and, _Pastor Fido_.

The _story_ of the _Gentle Shepherd_ is fitted to excite the warmest interest, because the situations, into which the characters are thrown, are strongly affecting, whilst they are strictly consonant to nature and probability. The whole of the _fable_ is authorized by the circ.u.mstances of the times, in which the action of the piece is laid.

The era of _Cromwell's_ usurpation, when many loyal subjects, sharing the misfortunes of their exiled sovereign, were stripped of their estates, and then left to the neglect and desolation of forfeiture; the necessity under which those unhappy sufferers often lay, of leaving their infant progeny under the charge of some humble but attached dependant, till better days should dawn upon their fortunes; the criminal advantages taken by false friends in usurping the rights of the sufferers, and securing themselves against future question by deeds of guilt; these circ.u.mstances, too well founded in truth, and nature, are sufficient to account for every particular in this most interesting drama, and give it perfect verisimilitude.

The _fables_ of the _Aminta_ and _Pastor Fido_, drawn from a state of society which never had an existence, are, for that reason, incapable of exciting any high degree of interest; and the mind cannot for a moment remain under the influence of that deception, which it is the great purpose of the drama to produce.

The _characters_ or _persons_ of the Italian pastorals are coy nymphs and swains, whose sole occupation is hunting wild beasts, brutal satyrs who plot against the chast.i.ty of those nymphs, shepherds deriving their origin from the G.o.ds, stupid priests of these G.o.ds who are the dupes of their ambiguous will, and G.o.ds themselves disguised like shepherds, and influencing the conduct and issue of the piece.

The manners of these unnatural and fict.i.tious beings are proper to their ideal character. A dull moralizing chorus is found necessary to explain what the characters themselves must have left untold, or unintelligible.

The _persons_ of the Scotish pastoral are the actual inhabitants of the country where the scene is laid; their manners are drawn from nature with a faithful pencil. The contrast of the different characters is happily imagined, and supported with consummate skill.

_Patie_, of a cheerful and sanguine temperament; spirited, yet free from vain ambition; contented with his humble lot; endowed by nature with a superior understanding, and feeling in himself those internal sources of satisfaction, which are independent of the advent.i.tious circ.u.mstances of rank and fortune. _Roger_, of a grave and phlegmatic const.i.tution; of kind affections, but of that ordinary turn of mind, which is apt to suppose some necessary connection between the possession of wealth and felicity. The former, from native dignity of character, a.s.suming a bold pre-eminence, and acting the part of a tutor and counsellor to his friend, who bends, though with some reluctance, to the authority of a n.o.bler mind. The princ.i.p.al female characters are contrasted with similar skill, and equal power of discrimination. _Peggy_, beautiful in person as in mind, endowed with every quality that can adorn the character of woman; gentle, tender-hearted, constant in affection, free from vanity as from caprice; of excellent understanding; judging of others by the criterion of her own innocent mind, and therefore forming the most amiable views of human nature. _Jenny_, sensible and affectionate, sprightly and satirical; possessing the ordinary qualities of her s.e.x, self-love, simulation, and the pa.s.sion of conquest; and pleased with exercising a capricious dominion over the mind of a lover; judging of mankind rather from the cold maxims of instilled prudential caution, than from the native suggestions of the heart.--A contrast of characters strongly and skilfully opposed, and therefore each most admirably fitted to bring the other into full display.

The subordinate persons of the drama are drawn with equal skill and fidelity to their prototypes. _Glaud_ and _Symon_ are the genuine pictures of the old Scotish yeomanry, the Lothian farmers of the last age, in their manners, sentiments, and modes of life; humble, but respectable; homely, yet comfortable. The episode of _Bauldy_, while it gives a pleasing variety, without interrupting the princ.i.p.al action, serves to introduce a character of a different species, as a foil to the honest and simple worth of the former. It paints in strong colours, and exposes to merited reprobation and contempt, that low and sordid mind, which seeks alone the gratification of its own desires, though purchased by the misery of the object of its affection. Bauldy congratulates himself on the cruel disappointment of Peggy's love;--"_I hope we'll a' sleep sound, but ane, this night_;"--and judges her present situation of deep distress to be the most favourable moment for preferring his own suit. His punishment, as it is suitable to his demerits, gives entire satisfaction.

The _Aminta_, and _Pastor Fido_, abound in beautiful sentiments, and pa.s.sages of the most tender and natural simplicity; but it is seldom we find a single page, in which this pleasing impression is not effaced by some affected and forced conceit. Nothing can be more delicately beautiful, or more agreeable to the true simplicity of pastoral, than _Amyntas's_ recounting to _Tircis_ the rise of his pa.s.sion for Silvia. The description of their joint occupations and sports, till love insensibly arose in the breast of _Tircis_; the natural and innocent device he employed to obtain a kiss from _Silvia_; the discovery of his affection, and his despair on finding her heart insensible to his pa.s.sion, are proofs that _Ta.s.so_ was a true poet, and knew [how] to touch those strings, with which our genuine feelings must ever harmonize. In elegant and just description he is equally to be admired. The scene in which _Tircis_ describes the lovely _Silvia_ bound naked to a tree by a brutal satyr, and released by _Amyntas_, whose pa.s.sion she treated with scorn, is one of the most beautiful pieces of poetic painting. But, when _Amyntas_, unloosing his disdainful mistress, addresses himself to the tree, to which she was tied; when he declares its rugged trunk to be unworthy of the bonds of that beautiful hair, which encircled it, and reproaches its cruelty in tearing and disfiguring those charming tresses, we laugh at such despicable conceits, and lament that vicious taste, to which even a true poet found himself (we presume against his better judgment) so often compelled to sacrifice. So likewise when, forgetting nature, he resorts to the ordinary cant of pastoral, the language and thoughts of _Theocritus_ and _Virgil_, and even superadds to those common-places, the false refinement, which in his age delighted his countrymen, we turn with dissatisfaction from his page. If we compare him, where the similarity of the subject allows a comparison, with the Scotish poet, how poor does the Italian appear in the compet.i.tion!

Thus, let the first scene of the _Aminta_, between _Silvia_ and _Daphne_, be compared with the scene between _Jenny_ and _Peggy_, in the _Gentle Shepherd_. The subject of both is the preference between a single and a married life:

DAPHNE.

But whence can spring thy hate?

SILVIA.

Whence? from his love.

DAPHNE.

Too cruel offspring of so kind a sire!

When was it heard that e'er the tender lamb Produced a tiger, or the rook a swan?-- Sure you deceive yourself, or jest with me.

SILVIA.

How can I choose but hate his love, Which hates my chast.i.ty?

DAPHNE.

Now tell me, should another thus address thee, Would'st thou in such harsh kind receive his love?

SILVIA.

In such harsh kind I ever would receive The traitor who would steal my virgin jewel.

Whom you term lover I account a foe.

DAPHNE.

Thus to the ewe the ram Thou deem'st a foe; or to the tender heifer, The st.u.r.dy bull; the turtle to its mate.

Thus the delightful spring Seems in thy mind the season of fell hate, And deadly enmity; the lovely spring That smiling prompts to universal love, That rouses nature's flame thro' all her bounds: Nor less in animals of every kind, Than favour'd man. See how creation glows, In all her works, with love's imperious flame!

Mark yonder doves that bill, and sport, and kiss: Hear'st thou the nightingale, as on the bough She evermore repeats, "I love, I love:"

The wily snake sheaths her envenom'd fang, And sinuous glides her to her glossy mate: The savage tiger feels the potent flame: The grim majestic lion growls his love To the resounding forest.--Wilder thou Than nature's wildest race, spurn'st at that power To which all nature bows.--But why of these, Of the grim lion, or the spotted lynx, Or wily serpent?--these have sense and feeling.

Even trees inanimate confess the G.o.d: See how the vine clings with a fond embrace; The mountain fir, the pine, the elm, the beech, Have each their favour'd mate: they burn, they sigh, &c.

SILVIA.

Well, when my ear shall hear their sighs of love, Perhaps I too may learn to love like them.

By a similar strain of argument, _Linco_, in the _Pastor Fido_, endeavours to persuade _Silvio_ to love, whose sole delight is in the chase, and who tells his adviser, that he would not give one wild beast, taken by his dog _Melampo_, for a thousand beautiful nymphs.

_Linco_ bids him "See how all nature loves, the heavens, the earth, the sea; and that beautiful morning star that now shines so bright, she likewise loves, and shines more splendid from her amorous flame: see how she blushes, for now perhaps she has just left the stolen embraces of her lover. The woods, and alltheir savage inhabitants, the seas, the dolphins. the huge whales, &c., &c."

How poor is all this refinement and conceit, when compared with the language of truth and nature! When Pegg, in the confidence of a wamr and innocent heart, describes to her copanion the delights of a mutual pa.s.sion, the enjoyments of domestic bliss, and the happiness arising from the exercise of the parental duties and affections; contrasting these with the cold and selfish feelings of determined celibacy, it is nature that speaks in every line, and the heart yields its warmest sympathy, as the judgment its complete conviction:

PEGGY.

Sic coa.r.s.e-spun thoughts as thae want pith to move My settl'd mind; I'm o'er far gane in love.

Patie to me is dearer than my breath; But want of him I dread nae other skaith.

There's nane of a' the herds that tread the green Has sic a smile, or sic twa glancening een.

And then he speaks with sic a taking art, His words they thirle like musick thro' my heart.

How blythly can he sport, and gently rave, And jest a f.e.c.kless fears that fright the lave!

Ilk day that he's alane upon the hill, He reads fell books that teach him meikle skill.

He is--but what need I say that or this?

I'd spend a month to tell you what he is!

To the sarcastical picture which Jenny draws of the anxieties and turmoil of a wedded life, Peggy thus warmly replies:

Yes, 'tis a heartsome thing to be a wife, When round the ingle-edge young sprouts are rife.

Gif I'm sae happy, I shall have delight To hear their little plaints, and keep them right.

Wow! Jenny, can there greater pleasure be, Than see sic wee tots toolying at your knee; When a' they ettle at--their greatest wish, Is to be made of, and obtain a kiss?

Can there be toil in tenting day and night, The like of them, when love makes care delight?[43]

[Footnote 43: When the sentiments are drawn from nature, it is not surprising that, where the subject is similar, there should be a concurrence of thought between two genuine poets, who never saw each other's works. How similar is the following pa.s.sage of the 10th satire of Boileau to the imagery of this beautiful family picture!

Quelle joie en effet, quelle douceur extreme De se voir caresser d'une epouse qu'on aime;-- De voir autour de soi croitre dans la maison, Sous les paisibles loix d'une agreable mere De pet.i.ts citoyens dont on croit etre pere!

Quel charme au moindre mal qui nous vient menacer De la voir aussitot accourir, s'empresser, &c.]

JENNY.

But poort.i.th, Peggy, is the warst of a', Gif o'er your heads ill chance shou'd beggary draw: Your nowt may die--the spate may bear away Frae aff the howms your dainty rucks of hay.-- The thick blawn wreaths of snaw, or blashy thows, May smoor your wathers, and may rot your ews. &c,

PEGGY.

May sic ill luck befa' that silly she, Wha has sic fears; for that was never me.

Let fowk bode well, and strive to do their best; Nae mair's requir'd, let Heaven make out the rest.

I've heard my honest uncle aften say, That lads shou'd a' for wives that's vertuous pray: For the maist thrifty man cou'd never get A well stor'd room, unless his wife wad let: Wherefore nocht shall be wanting on my part, To gather wealth to raise my Shepherd's heart.