1719, they communicated whatever verses they wrote, even to the least things, to each other. Soon after it was generally known (says Pope) that Mr. Tickell was publishing the first book of the Iliad, I met Dr. Young in the street, and upon our falling into that subject, the Doctor expressed a great deal of surprise at Tickell's having such a translation by him so long. He said that it was inconceivable to him, and that there must be some mistake in the matter; that he and Tickell were so intimately acquainted at Oxford, that each used to communicate to the other whatever verses they wrote, even to the least things; that Tickell could not have been busied in so long a work without his knowing something of the matter, and that he had never heard a single word of it till on this occasion. This surprise of Dr. Young, together with what Steele had said against Tickell in relation to this affair, make it highly probable that there was some underhand dealing in that business; and indeed, Tickell himself, who is a very fair worthy man, has since in a manner as good as owned it to me.*

The tragedy of "The Revenge" is certainly one of the finest and most successful efforts of our poet's genius. The poetry is often beautiful, the thoughts refined and full of imagination, the images select, and a true poetic feeling pervades the whole. But from this praise something must be

Spence's Anecdotes, p. 148.

taken. The tragedy is written after the inferior model of the French drama; with which Dryden, and others of lesser note, had unfortunately superseded the masculine productions of our native stage. On this plan, Addison wrote his Cato, Smith his Phædra, and Gray his fragment of Agrippina. It is true that the incongruities and extravagances of Dryden's prolific muse had been much corrected by the improved taste of the later dramatists; that Rowe had adorned his artificial scenes of passion, with pomp of language and elegance of sentiment; and that Otway had once more invoked Nature from her sanctuary to which she had fled so long: but, with some bright exceptions, it is too true, that of the new tragedy it might be said, in the language of Johnson,

And declamation roar'd while passion slept.

In the play of the Revenge, Alonzo is placed in that artificial situation, which makes the pride of the French tragedy, and which so often forms the complicated plot of Dryden, when two conflicting passions are striving for the mastery, as love for the mistress, and fidelity to the friend. The triumph of the poet, is to contrive a perfect equipoise of contending motives, so as to keep the mind in a state of agonizing suspense; and when either motive begins to preponderate,* to throw additional weight into the opposite scale.

* See the Revenge, act iv. s. 1.

The French are delicate, and nicely lead
Of close intrigue the labyrinthian thread.
Our genius more affects the grand than fine,

Our strength can make the great plain action shine.
They raise a great curiosity indeed,

From his dark maze to see the hero freed;

We rouse the affections, and that hero show
Gasping beneath some formidable blow, &c.*

Interest in the bosom of the spectator is presumed to be excited not by the rapidity of the action, or the sublimity of the passions, or by the force and truth of the characters; but to be absorbed in admiration of ideal excellence and supernatural virtue; by a conscience that is always superior to temptation, by artificial and exaggerated professions of virtue and disinterestedness, and by a lofty and romantic self-denial, that is a poor substitute for the real feelings and passions of the heart.

The character of Zanga† is modelled on that of Iago, and on Mrs. Behn's Abdelazar, but the prototype in Shakespeare is more true to nature than the copy; both as to the motive by which Iago is impelled to his course of guilty action, and to the sentiments and feelings which accompany it. Zanga is a character of higher intellectual power, of nobler birth, of a more active imagination, and

*Young's Ep. to Lord Lansdowne.

† A speech in the City Nightcap, by R. Davenport, contains the outline of the character of Zanga, v. Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. xi. p. 365. See Reed's note.

a more cultivated mind.*

How far, under these

advantages, and with a greater refinement of thought, his long-cherished and inhuman hatred was as likely to be maintained, and exhibited in all its horrid depravity, as in the more vulgar bosom of the Venetian Moor, and whether its continuance were as natural, is worthy of consideration; perhaps the accumulation of injuries which he sustained, the death of his father, slain by Alonzo's sword, the loss of a kingdom through Alonzo's success, and the indignity of a blow from the same hand, will poetically authorize the nature and means of his revenge: but in one respect Young appears to me to have excelled even Shakespeare himself; namely, in founding the credulity of Alonzo on reasons more probable, more ingeniously contrived, and more skilfully maintained than those which overpowered the unsuspicious temper, and over-persuaded the credulous reason of Othello.†

Zanga's explanations to his wife, and afterwards to the audience, of the intended effect of his machinations are not skilful, nor dramatic in their effect; yet the grandeur of the sentiment and situation in the last scene must be felt by all, espe

*See his Speech, act iv.

† See criticism on this play in Biog. Dramatica, that is worthy of attention, it was written by G. Steevens. Young could only get £50 for it. See Warton's Essay on Pope, ii. p. 147.

cially when assisted, as the present writer has witnessed, by the efforts hardly to be surpassed of more than one of our noble tragic actors; but, after all, it is the sublimity of Corneille and not of Shakespeare; and the sudden revulsion of feeling in Zanga, accompanied with his repentant reflections, are not true to nature or to life. The great poetical merits of the play are obvious; its highly sustained passion, and its impressive and terrific scenes of guilt, are represented on the stage with wonderful effect; but it is wanting in lights and shadows, in scenes of tenderness and repose, and in those softer colours which the magic pencil of Shakespeare used so skilfully to spread like a sunny haze over the gloom and passion of the most distressing history; it is deficient in those fine contrasts that set off and heighten the terrible and pathetic; and even in that chaste and comic humour which, instead of breaking the continuity of feeling, lets the mind loose a moment from its painful pressure, and relieves it, by exhibiting that feeling under a new aspect, and connected with fresh associations.

The Satires of Young were published separately, in folio, under the title of The Universal Passion.* The first appeared, in folio, in the

* A work, says Dr. J. Warton, that abounds in wit, observation on life, pleasantry, delicacy, urbanity, and the most well-bred raillery, without a single mark of spleen or ill na