From considering that a word used in a figurative sense suggests at the same time its proper meaning, we discover a fifth rule, that we ought not to employ a word in a figurative sense, the proper sense of which is inconsistent or incongruous with the subject: for every inconsistency, and even incongruity, though in the expression only and not real, is unpleasant: Interea genitor Tyberini ad fluminis undam Meantime his father, now no father stood, Three starless nights the doubtful navy stays Eneid, X. 833.. Eneid, III. 203. The foregoing rule may be extended to form a sixth, that no epi thet ought to be given to the figurative sense of a word that agrees not also with its proper sense: Dicat Opuntia Frater Megillæ, quo beatus Vulnere. Horat. Carm. lib. I. Ode 27. Let the brother of the Opuntian fair Rather his lovesick joys, and darling flame declare. Parcus deorum cultor, et infrequens, Insanientis dum sapientiæ Consultus erro. Horat. Carm. lib. I. Ode 34. A sparing and unfrequent guest, In Jove's high temple at the best, While mad philosophy my mind pursued. Seventhly, the crowding into one period or thought of different figures of speech, is not less faulty than crowding metaphors in that manner: the mind is distracted in the quick transition from one image to another, and is puzzled instead of being pleased: I am of ladies most deject and wretched, My bleeding bosom sickens at the sound. Ah miser, Que saga, quis te solvere Thessalis Hamlet. Odyssey, I. 439. Horal. Carm. lib. I. Ode 27. Ah wretch, how thou art hampered in a strait A lad whose matchless worth deserved a better fate. What sorceress, what magic art, What power divine can ease thy smart! E'en Pegasus to clear thee will be loth From one composed of whimsy, wantonness and wrath. Eighthly, if crowding figures be bad, it is still worse to graft one figure upon another: for instance, While his keen falchion drinks the warriors' lives. Iliad, XI. 211. A falchion drinking the warriors' blood is a figure built upon resem blance, which is passable. But then in the expression, lives is again put for blood; and by thus grafting one figure upon another, the expression is rendered obscure and unpleasant. Ninthly, intricate and involved figures that can scarcely be ana lyzed, or reduced to plain language, are least of all tolerable : Votis incendimus aras. We inflame the altars with vows. Onerantque canistris Dona laboratæ Cereris. Eneid, III. 279 Eneid, VIII. 180 They load the baskets with the gifts of labored Ceres. And urged the march of death, and all his pangs enhanced. Scribêris Vario fortis, et hostium Victor, Mæonii carminis alite. Horat. Carm. lib. I. Ode 6. Brave and victorious in the fight Else shall our fates be number'd with the dead. Commutual death the fate of war confounds. Speaking of Proteus, Iliad, V. 294. Iliad, VIII. 85. and XI. 117, Instant he wears, elusive of the rape, Ibid. IV. 952. The mimic force of every savage shape. Odyssey, IV. 563. Autumn, 337. Ibid. 640. Ibid. 967. Winter, 738. In the tenth place, when a subject is introduced by its proper name, it is absurd to attribute to it the properties of a different subject to which the word is sometimes applied in a figurative sense: Hear me, oh Neptune! thou whose arms are hurl'd From shore to shore, and gird the solid world. Odyssey, IX. 617. Neptune is here introduced personally, and not figuratively for the ocean: the description therefore, which is only applicable to the lat ter, is altogether improper. It is not sufficient, that a figure of speech be regularly constructed, and be free from blemish: it requires taste to discern when it is proper, and when improper; and taste, I suspect is our only guide. One, however, may gather from reflection and experience, that ornaments and graces suit not any of the dispiriting passions, nor are proper for expressing any thing grave and important. In familiar conversation, they are in some measure ridiculous: Prospero, in the Tempest, speaking to his daughter Miranda, says, The fringed curtains of thine eyes advance, And say what thou seest yond. No exception can be taken to the justness of the figure; and circumstances may be imagined to make it proper; but it is certainly not proper in familiar conversation. In the last place, though figures of speech have a charming effect when accurately constructed and properly introduced, they ought, however, to be scattered with a sparing hand: nothing is more luscious, and nothing consequently more satiating, than redundant ornaments of any kind. CHAPTER XXI. NARRATION AND DESCRIPTION. Writers should choose subjects adapted to their genius-In history, the reflections to be chaste and solid-The commencement of an epic poem to be modestSubjects intended for entertainment solely, to be described as they appear, and not as they really are-Objects in both narration and description, to be painted with great accuracy-A useless circumstance to be suppressed-The power of a simple circumstance happily selected-The drawing of characters, the master stroke in description-In this Tacitus, Shakspeare, and Ossian excel-Verbal dress-The emotion raised by the sound and the sense to be concordant-A stronger impression made by an incident upon an eye-witness than when heard at second hand-The effect of abstract or general terms in composition for amusement, not good-In the fine arts, the capital object to be placed in the strongest point of view-A concise comprehensive style, a great ornament in narration-Tautology to be avoided-An object ugly to the sight, not so when represented by colors or by words-Illustrated, from painting, and from language. HORACE, and many critics after him, exhort writers to choose a subject adapted to their genius. Such observations would multiply rules of criticism without end; and at any rate belong not to the present work, the object of which is human nature in general, and what is common to the species. But though the choice of a subject comes not under such a plan, the manner of execution comes under it; because the manner of execution is subjected to general rules, derived from principles common to the species. These rules, as they concern the things expressed as well as the language or expression, require a division of this chapter into two parts; first of thoughts, and next of words. I pretend not to justify this division as entirely accurate: for in discoursing of thoughts, it is difficult to abstract altogether from the words; and still more difficult, in discoursing of words, to abstract altogether from the thought. The first rule is, that in history the reflections ought to be chaste and solid; for while the mind is intent upon truth, it is little disposed to the operations of the imagination. Strada's Belgic History is full of poetical images, which discording with the subject, are unpleasant; and they have a still worse effect, by giving an air of fiction to a genuine history. Such flowers ought to be scattered with a sparing hand, even in epic poetry; and at no rate are they proper, till the reader be warmed, and by an enlivened imagination be prepared to relish them in that state of mind they are agreeable; but while we are sedate and attentive to an historical chain of facts, we reject with disdain, every fiction. This Belgic History is indeed wofully vicious both in matter and in form: it is stuffed with frigid and unmeaning reflections; and its poetical flashes, even laying aside their impropriety, are mere tinsel. Second, Vida,* following Horace, recommends a modest commencement of an epic poem; giving for a reason, that the writer ought to husband his fire. This reason has weight; but what is said above suggests a reason still more weighty: bold thoughts and figures are never relished till the mind be heated and thoroughly engaged, which is not the reader's case at the commencement. Homer introduces not a single simile in the first book of the Iliad, nor in the first book of the Odyssey. On the other hand, Shakspeare begins one of his plays with a sentiment too old for the most heated imagination : Bedford. Hung be the heav'ns with black, yield day to night' First Part Henry VI. The passage with which Strada begins his history, is too poetical for a subject of that kind; and at any rate too high for the beginning of a grave performance. A third reason ought to have no less influence than either of the former, that a man, who, upon his first appearance, strains to make a figure, is too ostentatious to be relished. Hence the first sentences of a work ought to be short, natural and simple. Cicero, in his oration pro Archia poeta, errs against this * Poet. lib. II. 1. 30. rule: his reader is out of breath at the very first period; which seems never to end. Burnet begins the History of his Own Tunes with a period long and intricate. A third rule or observation is, that where the subject is intended for entertainment solely, not for instruction, a thing ought to be described as it appears, not as it is in reality. In running, for example, the impulse upon the ground is proportioned, in some degree, to the celerity of motion: though in appearance it is otherwise for a person in swift motion seems to skim the ground, and scarcely to touch it. Virgil, with great taste, describes quick running according to appearance; and raises an image fa inore 'ively than by adhering scrupulously to truth: Hos super advenit Volsca de gente Camilla, Agmen agens equitum et florentes ære catervas, Last from the Volscians fair Camilla came Eneid, VII. 803. This example is copied by the author of Telemachus: Les Brutiens sont legeres à la course comme les cerfs, et comme les daims; On croiroit que l'herbe même la plus tendre n'est point foulée sous leurs pieds. à peine laissent-ils dans le sable quelques traces de leurs pas. Again. Liv. X. Déjà il avoit abattu Eusilas si léger à la course, qu'à peine il imprimoit la trace de ses pas dans le sable, et qui devançoit dans son pays les plus rapides flots de l'Eurotas et de l'Alphée. Liv. XX. Fourth, In narration as well as in description, objects ought to be painted so accurately as to form in the mind of the reader distinct and lively images. Every useless circumstance ought indeed to be suppressed, because every such circumstance loads the narration; but if a circumstance be necessary, however slight, it cannot be described too minutely. The force of language consists in raising complete images;* which have the effect to transport the reader as by magic into the very place of the important action, and to convert him as it were into a spectator, beholding every thing that passes. The narrative in an epic poem ought to rival a picture in the liveliness and accuracy of its representations: no circumstance must be omitted that tends to make a complete image; because an imperfect image, as well as any other imperfect conception, is cold and unin* Chap. 2. Part 1. Sect. 7. |