The critic grants that the expedient of Timanthes may be allowed in “instances of blood,” the supported aspect of which would change a scene of commiseration and terror into one of abomination and horror, which ought for ever to be excluded from the province of art, of poetry as well as painting: and would not the face of Agamemnon, uncovered, have had this effect? was not the scene he must have witnessed a scene of blood? and whose blood was to be shed? that of his own daughter--and what daughter? young, beautiful, helpless, innocent, resigned--the very idea of resignation in such a victim, must either have acted irresistibly to procure her relief, or thrown a veil over a father’s face. A man who is determined to sport wit, at the expense of heart, alone could call such an expedient ridiculous; “as ridiculous,” Mr. Falconet continues, “as a poet would be, who in a pathetic situation, instead of satisfying my expectation, to rid himself of the business, should say, that the sentiments of his hero are so far above whatever can be said on the occasion, that he shall say nothing.” And has not Homer, though he does not tell us this, acted upon a similar principle? has he not, when Ulysses addresses Ajax in Hades, in the most pathetic and conciliatory manner, instead of furnishing him with an answer, made him remain in indignant silence during the address, then turn his step and stalk away? has not the universal voice of genuine criticism with Longinus told us, and if it had not, would not Nature’s own voice tell us, that that silence was characteristic; that it precluded, included, and, soaring above all answer, consigned Ulysses for ever to a sense of inferiority? nor is it necessary to render such criticism contemptible to mention the silence of Dido in Virgil, or the Niobe of Æschylus, who was introduced veiled, and continued mute during her presence on the stage.