I cannot commit this paper to the public, without taking notice of an opinion, which has lately been disseminated by some people, viz. That the MICROCOSM, previous to its publication, is subjected to the criticism of my superiors, or, (in their own words)" looked over by Ushers." This idea is wrong in two points; first as being miserably unclassical in phrase, and secondly as being extremely false in information. Slaves cannot live in England; Ireland enjoys an immunity from toads; in a similar degree is the climate and constitution of Eton, utterly unadapted to the existence of "Ushers." And however flattering it might be to Gregory Griffin, that his works should be considered as the compositions of riper years; he cannot but think this opinion an unworthy compliment to the genius and abilities of those, to whom they are, in part, ascribed. I think it therefore my duty by this declaration, to "take all my imperfections on my own head; " and to assure the public, that little as the merit may be of these compositions, they are not "ushered" into the world by those, who are degraded by the supposition; the assistant directors of Eton education. No. 12. MONDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1787. Servetur ad imum, Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet. HORACE. From his first entrance to the closing scene, HAVING FRANCIS. AVING thus gone through the first part, or beginning of the poem, we may, naturally enough, proceed to the consideration of the second. The second part, or middle, is the proper place for bustle and business; for incident and adventure, "The Knave of Hearts He stole those Tarts." Here attention is awakened; and our whole souls are intent upon the first appearance of the hero. Some readers, may perhaps be offended at his making his entré in so disad vantageous a character as that of a thief. To this I plead precedent. The hero of the Iliad, as I observed in a former paper, is made to lament very pathetically, that "life is not like all other possessions, to be acquired by theft" A reflection, in my opinion, evidently shewing, that, if he did refrain from the practice of this ingenious art, it was not from want of an inclination that way. We may remember too, that in Virgil's poem, almost the first light in which the pious Æneas appears to us, is a deer-stealer ; nor is it much excuse for him, that the deer were wandering without keepers; for however he might, from this circumstance, have been unable to ascertain whose property they were; he might, I think, have been pretty well assured that they were not his. Having thus acquitted our hero of misconduct, by the example of his betters, I proceed to what I think the master-stroke of the poet. "The Knave of Hearts He stole those Tarts, And-took them-quite away-!!” Here, whoever has an ear for harmony, and a heart for feeling, must be touched! there is a desponding melancholy in the run of the last line! an air of tender regret in the addition of " quite away!" a something so expressive of irrecoverable loss ! so forcibly intimating the“ Ah nunquam reditura!" "They never can return!" in short such an union of sound and sense, as we rarely, if ever meet with in any author, ancient or modern. Our feelings are all alive; but the poet, wisely dreading that our sympathy with the injured queen might alienate our affections from his hero, contrives immediately to awaken our fears for him, by telling us, that "The King of Hearts Call'd for those Tarts," We are all conscious of the fault of our hero, and all tremble with him, for the punishment which the enraged monarch may inflict; "And beat the Knave full sore! 2 The fatal blow is struck! we cannot but rejoice that guilt is justly punished, though we sympathise with the guilty object of punishment. Here Scriblerus, who, by the bye, is very fond of making unnecessary alterations, proposes reading "Score" instead of "sore" meaning thereby to particularize, that the beating bestowed by this monarch, consisted of twenty stripes. But this proceeds from his ignorance of the genius of our language, which does not admit of such an ́expression as "full score,” but would require the insertion of the particle "a," which cannot be, on account of the metre. And this is another great artifice of the poet : by leaving the quantity of beating indeterminate, he gives every reader the liberty to administer it, in exact proportion to the sum of indignation which he may have conceived against his hero; that by thus amply satisfying their resentment, they may be the more easily reconciled to him afterwards. "The King of Hearts Call'd for those Tarts, And beat the Knave full sore !" Here ends the second part, or middle of the poem ; in which we see the character, and exploits of the hero, pourtrayed with the hand of a master. Nothing now remains to be examined, but the third part, or end. In the end, it is a rule pretty well established, that the work should draw towards a conclusion, which our author manages thus. "The Knave of Hearts "Brought back those Tarts.” Here every thing is at length settled; the theft is compensated; the tarts restored to their right owner; and poetical justice, in every respect, strictly, and impartially administered. We may observe, that there is nothing in which our poet has better succeeded, than in keeping up an unremitted attention in his readers to the main instruments, the machinery of his pɔem, viz. the tarts; insomuch, that the aforementioned Scriblerus has sagely observed, that “he can't tell, but he doesn't know, but the tarts may be reckoned the heroes of the poem." Scriblerus, though a man of learning, and frequently right in his opinion, has here certainly hazarded a rash conjecture. His arguments are overthrown entirely by his great opponent, Hiccius, who concludes, by triumphantly asking, "had the tarts been eaten, how could the poet have compensated for the loss of his heroes?" : We are now come to the dénouement, the setting all to rights and our poet, in the management of his moral, is certainly superior to his great ancient predecessors. The moral of their fables, if any they have, is so interwoven with the main body of their work, that in endeavouring to unravel it, we should tear the whole. Our author has very properly preserved his, whole and entire for the end of his poem, where he completes his main design, the reformation of his hero, thus, "And vow'd he'd steal no more." Having in the course of his work, shewn the bad effects |