to virtue; divine honours were paid, and altars
erected to his memory, for the encouragement of those who attempted to
imitate his example; and hence arose the heathen mythology, which is no
other than a collection of extravagant romances. As learning advanced,
and genius received cultivation, these stories were embellished with the
graces of poetry, that they might the better recommend themselves to the
attention; they were sung in public, at festivals, for the instruction
and delight of the audience; and rehearsed before battle, as incentives
to deeds of glory. Thus tragedy and the epic muse were born, and, in
the progress of taste, arrived at perfection. It is no wonder that the
ancients could not relish a fable in prose, after they had seen so many
remarkable events celebrated in verse by their best poets; we therefore
find no romance among them during the era of their excellence, unless
the Cyropaedia of Xenophon may be so called; and it was not till arts
and sciences began to revive after the irruption of the barbarians into
Europe, that anything of this kind appeared. But when the minds of men
were debauched by the imposition of priestcraft to the most absurd
pitch of credulity, the authors of romance arose, and losing sight
of probability, filled their performances with the most monstrous
hyperboles. If they could not equal the ancient poets in point of
genius they were resolved to excel them in fiction, and apply to the
wonder, rather than the judgment, of their readers. Accordingly, they
brought necromancy to their aid, and instead of supporting the character
of their heroes by dignity of sentiment and practice, distinguished
them by their bodily strength, activity, and extravagance of behaviour.
Although nothing could be more ludicrous and unnatural than the figures
they drew, they did not want patrons and admirers; and the world
actually began to be infected with the spirit of knight-errantry, when
Cervantes, by an inimitable piece of ridicule, reformed the taste
of mankind, representing chivalry in the right point of view, and
converting romance to purposes far more useful and entertaining, by
making it assume the sock, and point out the follies of ordinary life.

The same method has been practised by other Spanish and French authors,
and by none more successfully than by Monsieur Le Sage, who, in his
Adventures of Gil Blas, has described the knavery and foibles of life,
with infinite humour and sagacity. Th