{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_57679/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_57679","id":"gutenberg_57679","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/57679","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Criticism","Literary style"],"text":"Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Chuck Greif and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                               ELEMENTS\n\n                                  OF\n\n                              CRITICISM.\n\n\n                              VOLUME II.\n\n\n                              EDINBURGH:\n                    Printed for A. MILLAR, London;\n                                  AND\n                   A. KINCAID & J. BELL, Edinburgh.\n                               MDCCLXII.\n\n\n\n\n                               ELEMENTS\n                                  OF\n                              CRITICISM.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. X.\n\nCongruity and Propriety.\n\n\nMan is distinguished from the brute creation, not more remarkably by the\nsuperiority of his rational faculties, than by the greater delicacy of\nhis perceptions and feelings. With respect to the gross pleasures of\nsense, man probably has little superiority over other animals. Some\nobscure perception of beauty may also fall to their share. But they are\nprobably not acquainted with the more delicate conceptions of\nregularity, order, uniformity, or congruity. Such refined conceptions,\nbeing connected with morality and religion, are reserved to dignify the\nchief of the terrestrial creation. Upon this account, no discipline is\nmore suitable to man, or more _congruous_ to the dignity of his nature,\nthan that by which his taste is refined, to distinguish in every\nsubject, what is regular, what is orderly, what is suitable, and what is\nfit and proper[1].\n\nNo discerning person can be at a loss about the meaning of the terms\n_congruity_ and _propriety_, when applied to dress, behaviour, or\nlanguage; that a decent garb, for example, is proper for a judge, modest\nbehaviour for a young woman, and a lofty style for an epic poem. In the\nfollowing examples every one is sensible of an unsuitableness or\nincongruity: a little woman sunk in an overgrown farthingale, a coat\nrichly embroidered covering coarse and dirty linen, a mean subject in an\nelevated style, or an elevated subject in a mean style, a first minister\ndarning his wife\u2019s stocking, or a reverend prelate in lawn sleeves\ndancing a hornpipe.\n\nBut it is not sufficient that these terms be understood in practice; the\ncritical art requires, that their meaning be traced to its foundation in\nhuman nature. The relations that connect objects together, have been\nexamined in more than one view. Their influence in directing the train\nof our perceptions, is handled in the first chapter; and in the second,\ntheir influence in generating passion. Here they must be handled in a\nnew view; for they are clearly the occasion of congruity and propriety.\nWe are so framed by nature, as to require a certain suitableness or\ncorrespondence among things connected by any relation. This suitableness\nor correspondence is termed _congruity_ or _propriety_; and the want of\nit, _incongruity_ or _impropriety_. Among the many principles that\ncompose the nature of man, a sense of congruity or propriety is one.\nDestitute of this sense, we could have no notion of congruity or\npropriety: the terms to us would be unintelligible[2].\n\nAs this sense is displayed upon relations, it is reasonable beforehand\nto expect, that we should be so formed, as to require among connected\nobjects a degree of congruity proportioned to the degree of the\nrelation. And upon examination we find this to hold in fact. Where the\nrelation is strong and intimate as betwixt a cause and its effect, a\nbody and its members, we require that the things be suited to each other\nin the strictest manner. On the other hand, where the relation is\nslight, or accidental, as among things jumbled together in the same\nplace, we demand little or no congruity. The strictest propriety is\nrequired in behaviour and manner of living; because a man is connected\nwith these by the relation of cause and effect. The situation of a great\nhouse ought to be lofty; for the relation betwixt an edifice and the\nground it stands upon, is of the most intimate kind. Its relation to\nneighbouring hills, rivers, plains, being that of propinquity only,\ndemands but a small share of congruity. Among members of the same club,\nthe congruity ought to be considerable, as well as among things placed\nfor show in the same niche. Among passengers in a stage-coach, we\nrequire very little congruity; and less still at a public spectacle.\n\nCongruity is so nearly allied to beauty, as commonly to be held a\nspecies of it. And yet they differ so essentially, as never to coincide.\nBeauty, like colour, is placed upon a single subject; congruity upon a\nplurality. Further, a thing beautiful in itself, may, with relation to\nother things, produce the strongest sense of incongruity.\n\nCongruity and propriety are commonly reckoned synonymous terms; and\nhitherto in opening the subject they are used indifferently. But they\nare distinguishable; and the precise meaning of each must be\nascertained. Congruity is the genus, of which propriety is a species.\nFor we call nothing propriety, but that congruity or suitableness which\nought to subsist betwixt sensible beings and their thoughts, words, and\nactions.\n\nIn order to give a full view of this subject, I shall trace it through\nsome of the most considerable relations. The relation of a part to the\nwhole, being extremely intimate, demands the utmost degree of congruity.\nFor that reason, the slightest deviation is disgustful. Every one must\nbe sensible of a gross incongruity in the _Lutrin_, a burlesque poem,\nbeing closed with a serious and warm panegyric on Lamoignon, one of the\nKing\u2019s judges:\n\n                         ---- Amphora c\u0153pit\n    Institui; currente rota, cur urceus exit?\n\nNo relation affords more examples of congruity and incongruity, than\nthat betwixt a subject and its ornaments. A literary performance\nintended merely for amusement, is susceptible of much ornament, as well\nas a music-room or a play-house. In gaiety, the mind hath a peculiar\nrelish for show and decoration. The most gorgeous apparel, however\nunsuitable to an actor in a regular tragedy, disgusts not at an opera.\nThe truth is, an opera, in its present form, is a mighty fine thing; but\nas it deviates from nature in its capital circumstances, we look not for\nany thing natural in those which are accessory. On the other hand, a\nserious and important subject, admits not much ornament[3]: nor a\nsubject that of itself is extremely beautiful. And a subject that fills\nthe mind with its loftiness and grandeur, appears best in a dress\naltogether plain.\n\nTo a person of a mean appearance, gorgeous apparel is unsuitable: which,\nbeside the incongruity, has a bad effect; for by contrast it shows the\nmeanness of appearance in the strongest light. Sweetness of look and\nmanner, requires simplicity of dress joined with the greatest elegance.\nA stately and majestic air requires sumptuous apparel, which ought not\nto be gaudy, or crowded with little ornaments. A woman of consummate\nbeauty can bear to be highly adorned, and yet shows best in a plain\ndress:\n\n                  ----For loveliness\n    Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,\n    But is when unadorn\u2019d, adorn\u2019d the most.\n         _Thomson\u2019s Autumn_, 208.\n\nIn judging of the propriety of ornament, we must attend, not only to the\nnature of the subject that is to be adorned, but also to the\ncircumstances in which it is placed. The ornaments that are proper for a\nball, will appear not altogether so decent at public worship; and the\nsame person ought to dress differently for a marriage-feast and for a\nburial.\n\nNothing is more intimately related to a man, than his sentiments, words,\nand actions; and therefore we require here the strictest conformity.\nWhen we find what we thus require, we have a lively sense of propriety:\nwhen we find the contrary, our sense of impropriety is not less lively.\nHence the universal distaste of affectation, which consists in making a\nshew of greater delicacy and refinement than is suited either to the\ncharacter or circumstances of the person. Nothing hath a worse effect in\na story than impropriety of manners. In Corneille\u2019s tragedy of _Cinna_,\n\u00c6milia, a favourite of Augustus, receives daily marks of his affection,\nand is loaded with benefits; yet all the while is laying plots to\nassassinate her benefactor, directed by no other motive but to avenge\nher father\u2019s death[4]. Revenge against a benefactor founded solely upon\nfilial piety, will never suggest unlawful means; because it can never\nexceed the bounds of justice. And yet the crime here attempted, murder\nunder trust reposed, is what even a miscreant will scarce attempt\nagainst his bitterest enemy.\n\nWhat is said may be thought sufficient to explain the qualities of\ncongruity and propriety. But the subject is not exhausted. On the\ncontrary, the prospect enlarges upon us, when we take under view the\neffects these qualities produce in the mind. Congruity and propriety,\nwhere-ever perceived, appear agreeable; and every agreeable object\nproduceth in the mind a pleasant emotion. Incongruity and impropriety,\non the other hand, are disagreeable; and consequently produce painful\nemotions. An emotion of this kind sometimes vanisheth without any\nconsequence; but more frequently is the occasion of other emotions.\nWhen any slight incongruity is perceived in an accidental combination of\npersons or things, as of passengers in a stage-coach or of individuals\ndining at an ordinary, the emotion of incongruity, after a momentary\nexistence, vanisheth without producing any effect. But this is not the\ncase of propriety and impropriety. Voluntary acts, whether words or\ndeeds, are imputed to the author: when proper, we reward him with our\nesteem: when improper, we punish him with our contempt. Let us suppose,\nfor example, an heroic action suitable to the character of the author,\nwhich raises in him and in every spectator the pleasant emotion of\npropriety. This emotion generates in the author both self-esteem and\njoy; the former when he considers his relation to the action, and the\nlatter when he considers the good opinion that others will entertain of\nhim. The same emotion of propriety, produceth in the spectators, esteem\nfor the author of the action: and when they think of themselves, it also\nproduceth, by means of contrast, an emotion of humility. To discover the\neffects of an unsuitable action, we must invert each of these\ncircumstances. The painful emotion of impropriety, generates in the\nauthor of the action both humility and shame; the former when he\nconsiders his relation to the action, and the latter when he considers\nwhat others will think of him. The same emotion of impropriety,\nproduceth in the spectators, contempt for the author of the action; and\nit also produceth, by means of contrast when they think of themselves,\nan emotion of self-esteem. Here then are many different emotions,\nderived from the same action considered in different views by different\npersons; a machine provided with many springs, and not a little\ncomplicated. Propriety of action, it would seem, is a chief favourite of\nnature, or of the author of nature, when such care and solicitude is\nbestowed upon it. It is not left to our own choice; but, like justice,\nis required at our hands; and, like justice, inforced by natural rewards\nand punishments. A man cannot, with impunity, do any thing unbecoming or\nimproper. He suffers the chastisement of contempt inflicted by others,\nand of shame inflicted by himself. An apparatus so complicated and so\nsingular, ought to rouse our attention. Nature doth nothing in vain; and\nwe may conclude with great certainty, that this curious branch of the\nhuman constitution is intended for some valuable purpose. To the\ndiscovery of this purpose I shall with ardor apply my thoughts, after\ndiscoursing a little more at large upon the punishment, for I may now\ncall it so, that Nature hath provided for indecent or unbecoming\nbehaviour. This, at any rate, is necessary, in order to give a full view\nof the subject; and who knows whether it may not, over and above, open\nsome track that will lead us to what we are in quest of?\n\nA gross impropriety is punished with contempt and indignation, which are\nvented against the offender by every external expression that can\ngratify these passions. And even the slightest impropriety raises some\ndegree of contempt. But there are improprieties, generally of the\nslighter kind, that provoke laughter; of which we have examples without\nend in the blunders and absurdities of our own species. Such\nimproprieties receive a different punishment, as will appear by what\nfollows. The emotions of contempt and of laughter occasioned by an\nimpropriety of this kind, uniting intimately in the mind of the\nspectator, are expressed externally by a peculiar sort of laugh, termed\n_a laugh of derision_ or _scorn_[5]. An impropriety that thus moves not\nonly contempt but laughter, is distinguished by the epithet of\n_ridiculous_; and a laugh of derision or scorn is the punishment\nprovided for it by nature. Nor ought it to escape observation, that we\nare so fond of inflicting this punishment, as sometimes to exert it even\nagainst creatures of an inferior species; witness a Turkycock swelling\nwith pride, and strutting with displayed feathers. This object appears\nridiculous, and in a gay mood is apt to provoke a laugh of derision.\n\nWe must not expect that the improprieties to which these different\npunishments are adapted, can be separated by any precise boundaries. Of\nimproprieties, from the slightest to the most gross, from the most\nrisible to the most serious, a scale may be formed ascending by degrees\nalmost imperceptible. Hence it is, that in viewing some unbecoming\nactions, too risible for anger and too serious for derision, the\nspectator feels a sort of mixt emotion partaking both of derision and of\nanger. This accounts for an expression, common with respect to the\nimpropriety of some actions, That we know not whether to laugh or be\nangry.\n\nIt cannot fail to be observed, that in the case of a risible\nimpropriety, which is always slight, the contempt we have for the\noffender is extremely faint, though derision, its gratification, is\nextremely pleasant. This disproportion betwixt a passion and its\ngratification, seems not conformable to the analogy of nature. In\nlooking about for a solution, I reflect upon what is laid down above,\nthat an improper action, not only moves our contempt for the author, but\nalso, by means of contrast, swells the good opinion we have of\nourselves. This contributes, more than any other article, to the\npleasure we feel in ridiculing the follies and absurdities of others.\nAnd accordingly, it is well known, that they who put the greatest value\nupon themselves, are the most prone to laugh at others. Pride is a vivid\npassion, as all are which have self for their object. It is extremely\npleasant in itself, and not less so in its gratification. This passion\nsingly would be sufficient to account for the pleasure of ridicule,\nwithout borrowing any aid from contempt. Hence appears the reason of a\nnoted observation, That we are the most disposed to ridicule the\nblunders and absurdities of others, when we are in high spirits; for in\nhigh spirits, self-conceit displays itself with more than ordinary\nvigor.\n\nHaving with wary steps traced an intricate road, not without danger of\nwandering; what remains to complete our journey, is to account for the\nfinal cause of congruity and propriety, which make so great a figure in\nthe human constitution. One final cause, regarding congruity, is pretty\nobvious. The sense of congruity, as one of the principles of the fine\narts, contributes in a remarkable degree to our entertainment. This is\nthe final cause assigned above for our sense of proportion[6], and need\nnot be enlarged upon here. Congruity indeed with respect to quantity,\ncoincides with proportion. When the parts of a building are nicely\nadjusted to each other, it may be said indifferently, that it is\nagreeable by the congruity of its parts, or by the proportion of its\nparts. But propriety, which regards voluntary agents only, can never in\nany instance be the same with proportion. A very long nose is\ndisproportioned, but cannot be termed _improper_. In some instances, it\nis true, impropriety coincides with disproportion in the same subject,\nbut never in the same respect. I give for an example a very little man\nbuckled to a long toledo. Considering the man and the sword with respect\nto size, we perceive a disproportion. Considering the sword as the\nchoice of the man, we perceive an impropriety.\n\nThe sense of impropriety with respect to mistakes, blunders, and\nabsurdities, is happily contrived for the good of mankind. In the\nspectators it is productive of mirth and laughter, excellent recreation\nin an interval from business. The benefit is still more extensive. It is\nnot agreeable to be the subject of ridicule; and to punish with ridicule\nthe man who is guilty of an absurdity, tends to put him more upon his\nguard in time coming. Thus even the most innocent blunder is not\ncommitted with impunity; because, were errors licensed where they do no\nhurt, inattention would grow into a habit, and be the occasion of much\nhurt.\n\nThe final cause of propriety as to moral duties, is of all the most\nillustrious. To have a just notion of it, the two sorts of moral duties\nmust be kept in view, _viz._ those that respect others, and those that\nrespect ourselves. Fidelity, gratitude, and the forbearing injury, are\nexamples of the first sort; temperance, modesty, firmness of mind, are\nexamples of the other. The former are made duties by means of the moral\nsense; the latter, by means of the sense of propriety. Here is a final\ncause of the sense of propriety, that must rouse our attention. It is\nundoubtedly the interest of every man, to regulate his behaviour\nsuitably to the dignity of his nature, and to the station allotted him\nby Providence. Such rational conduct contributes in every respect to\nhappiness: it contributes to health and plenty: it gains the esteem of\nothers: and, which is of all the greatest blessing, it gains a\njustly-founded self-esteem. But in a matter so essential to our\nwell-being, even self-interest is not relied on. The sense of propriety\nsuperadds the powerful authority of duty to the motive of interest. The\nGod of nature, in all things essential to our happiness, hath observed\none uniform method. To keep us steady in our conduct, he hath fortified\nus with natural principles and feelings. These prevent many aberrations,\nwhich would daily happen were we totally surrendered to so fallible a\nguide as is human reason. The sense of propriety cannot justly be\nconsidered in another light, than as the natural law that regulates our\nconduct with respect to ourselves; as the sense of justice is the\nnatural law that regulates our conduct with respect to others. I call\nthe sense of propriety a law, because it really is so, not less than\nthe sense of justice. If by law be meant a rule of conduct that we are\nconscious ought to be obeyed, this definition, which I conceive to be\nstrictly accurate, is applicable undoubtedly to both. The sense of\npropriety includes this consciousness; for to say an action is proper,\nis, in other words, to say, that it _ought_ to be performed; and to say\nit is improper, is, in other words, to say, that it _ought_ to be\nforborn. It is this very consciousness of _ought_ and _should_ included\nin the moral sense, that makes justice a law to us. This consciousness\nof duty, when applied to propriety, is perhaps not so vigorous or strong\nas when applied to justice: but the difference is in degree only, not in\nkind: and we ought, without hesitation or reluctance, to submit equally\nto the government of both.\n\nBut I have more to urge upon this head. It must, in the next place, be\nobserved, that to the sense of propriety as well as of justice are\nannexed the sanctions of rewards and punishments; which evidently prove\nthe one to be a law as well as the other. The satisfaction a man hath\nin doing his duty, joined with the esteem and good-will of others, is\nthe reward that belongs to both equally. The punishments also, though\nnot the same, are nearly allied; and differ in degree more than in\nquality. Disobedience to the law of justice, is punished with remorse;\ndisobedience to the law of propriety, with shame, which is remorse in a\nlower degree. Every transgression of the law of justice raises\nindignation in the beholder; and so doth every flagrant transgression of\nthe law of propriety. Slighter improprieties receive a milder\npunishment: they are always rebuked with some degree of contempt, and\nfrequently with derision. In general, it is true, that the rewards and\npunishments annexed to the sense of propriety are slighter in degree\nthan those annexed to the sense of justice. And that this is wisely\nordered, will appear from considering, that to the well-being of\nsociety, duty to others is still more essential than duty to ourselves;\nfor society could not subsist a moment, were individuals not protected\nfrom the headstrong and turbulent passions of their neighbours.\n\nReflecting coolly and carefully upon the subject under consideration,\nthe constitution of man, admirable in all its parts, appears here in a\nfine light. The final cause now unfolded of the sense of propriety,\nmust, to every discerning eye, appear delightful; and yet hitherto we\nhave given but a partial view of it. The sense of propriety reaches\nanother illustrious end; which is, to co-operate with the sense of\njustice in inforcing the performance of social duties. In fact, the\nsanctions visibly contrived to compel a man to be just to himself, are\nequally serviceable to compel him to be just to others. This will be\nevident from a single reflection, That an action, by being unjust,\nceases not to be improper. An action never appears more eminently\nimproper, than when it is unjust. It is obviously becoming and suitable\nto human nature, that each man do his duty to others; and accordingly\nevery transgression of duty with respect to others, is at the same time\na transgression of duty with respect to self. This is an undisguised\ntruth without exaggeration; and it opens a new and delightful view in\nthe moral landscape. The prospect is greatly enriched, by the\nmultiplication of agreeable objects. It appears now, that nothing is\noverlooked, nothing left undone, that can possibly contribute to the\nenforcing social duty. For to all the sanctions that belong to it\nsingly, are superadded the sanctions of self-duty. A familiar example\nshall suffice for illustration. An act of ingratitude considered in\nitself, is to the author disagreeable as well as to every spectator:\nconsidered by the author with relation to himself, it raises\nself-contempt: considered by him with relation to the world, it makes\nhim ashamed. Again, considered by others, it raises their contempt and\nindignation against the author. These feelings are all of them\noccasioned by the impropriety of the action. When the action is\nconsidered as unjust, it occasions another set of feelings. In the\nauthor it produces remorse, and a dread of merited punishment; and in\nothers, the benefactor chiefly, indignation and hatred directed upon the\nungrateful person. Thus shame and remorse united in the ungrateful\nperson, and indignation united with hatred in the hearts of others, are\nthe punishments provided by nature for injustice. Stupid and insensible\nmust he be in extreme, who, in a contrivance so exquisite, perceives not\nthe hand of the Sovereign Architect.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XI\n\nOf Dignity and Meanness.\n\n\nThese terms are applied to man in point of character, sentiment, and\nbehaviour. We say, for example, of one man, that he hath a natural\ndignity in his air and manner; of another, that he makes a mean figure.\nThere is a dignity in every action and sentiment of some persons: the\nactions and sentiments of others are mean and vulgar. With respect to\nthe fine arts, some performances are said to be manly and suitable to\nthe dignity of human nature: others are termed low, mean, trivial. Such\nexpressions are common, though they have not always a precise meaning.\nWith respect to the art of criticism, it must be a real acquisition to\nascertain what these terms truly import; which possibly may enable us to\nrank every performance in the fine arts according to its dignity.\n\nInquiring first to what subjects the terms _dignity_ and _meanness_ are\nappropriated, we soon discover, that they are not applicable to any\nthing inanimate. The most magnificent palace ever built, may be lofty,\nmay be grand, but it has no relation to dignity. The most diminutive\nshrub may be little, but it is not mean. These terms must belong to\nsensitive beings, probably to man only; which will be evident when we\nadvance in the inquiry.\n\nOf all objects, human actions produce in a spectator the greatest\nvariety of feelings. They are in themselves grand or little: with\nrespect to the author, they are proper or improper: with respect to\nthose affected by them, just or unjust. And I must now add, that they\nare also distinguished by dignity and meanness. It may possibly be\nthought, that with respect to human actions, dignity coincides with\ngrandeur, and meanness with littleness. But the difference will be\nevident upon reflecting, that we never attribute dignity to any action\nbut what is virtuous, nor meanness to any but what in some degree is\nfaulty. But an action may be grand without being virtuous, or little\nwithout being faulty. Every action of dignity creates respect and esteem\nfor the author; and a mean action draws upon him contempt. A man is\nalways admired for a grand action, but frequently is neither loved nor\nesteemed for it: neither is a man always contemned for a low or little\naction.\n\nAs it appears to me, dignity and meanness are founded on a natural\nprinciple not hitherto mentioned. Man is endued with a sense of the\nworth and excellence of his nature. He deems it to be more perfect than\nthat of the other beings around him; and he feels that the perfection of\nhis nature consists in virtue, particularly in virtue of the highest\nrank. To express this sense, the term _dignity_ is appropriated.\nFurther, to behave with dignity, and to refrain from all mean actions,\nis felt to be, not a virtue only, but a duty: it is a duty every man\nowes to himself. By acting in this manner, he attracts love and esteem.\nBy acting meanly or below himself, he is disapproved and contemned.\n\nAccording to the description here given of dignity and meanness, they\nwill be found to be a species of propriety and impropriety. Many actions\nmay be proper or improper, to which dignity or meanness cannot be\napplied. To eat when one is hungry is proper, but there is no dignity in\nthis action. Revenge fairly taken, if against law, is improper, but it\nis not mean. But every action of dignity is also proper, and every mean\naction is also improper.\n\nThis sense of the dignity of human nature, reaches even our pleasures\nand amusements. If they enlarge the mind by raising grand or elevated\nemotions, or if they humanize the mind by exercising our sympathy, they\nare approved as suited to our nature: if they contract the mind by\nfixing it on trivial objects, they are contemned as low and mean. Hence\nin general, every occupation, whether of use or amusement, that\ncorresponds to the dignity of man, obtains the epithet of _manly_; and\nevery occupation below his nature, obtains the epithet of _childish_.\n\nTo those who study human nature, there is a point which has always\nappeared intricate. How comes it that generosity and courage are more\nvalued and bestow more dignity, than good-nature, or even justice,\nthough the latter contribute more than the former, to private as well as\nto public happiness? This question bluntly proposed, might puzzle a\ncunning philosopher; but by means of the foregoing observations will\neasily be solved. Human virtues, like other objects, obtain a rank in\nour estimation, not from their utility, which is a subject of\nreflection, but from the direct impression they make on us. Justice and\ngood-nature are a sort of negative virtues, that make no figure unless\nwhen they are transgressed. Courage and generosity producing elevated\nemotions, enliven greatly the sense of a man\u2019s dignity, both in himself\nand in others; and for that reason, courage and generosity are in higher\nregard than the other virtues mentioned. We describe them as grand and\nelevated, as of greater dignity, and more praise-worthy.\n\nThis leads us to examine more directly emotions and passions with\nrespect to the present subject. And it will not be difficult to form a\nscale of them, beginning at the meanest, and ascending gradually to\nthose of the highest rank and dignity. Pleasure felt as at the organ of\nsense, named _corporeal pleasure_, is perceived to be low; and when\nindulged to excess, beyond what nature demands, is perceived also to be\nmean. Persons therefore of any delicacy, dissemble the pleasure they\nhave in eating and drinking. The pleasures of the eye and ear, which\nhave no organic feeling[7], are free from any sense of meanness; and for\nthat reason are indulged without any shame. They even arise to a certain\ndegree of dignity, when their objects are grand or elevated. The same is\nthe case of the sympathetic passions. They raise the character\nconsiderably, when their objects are of importance. A virtuous person\nbehaving with fortitude and dignity under the most cruel misfortunes,\nmakes a capital figure; and the sympathising spectator feels in himself\nthe same dignity. Sympathetic distress at the same time never is mean:\non the contrary, it is agreeable to the nature of a social being, and\nhas the general approbation. The rank that love possesses in this scale,\ndepends in a great measure on its object. It possesses a low place when\nfounded on external properties merely; and is mean when bestowed upon a\nperson of a rank much inferior without any extraordinary qualification.\nBut when founded on the more elevated internal properties, it assumes a\nconsiderable degree of dignity. The same is the case of friendship. When\ngratitude is warm, it animates the mind; but it scarce rises to dignity.\nJoy bestows dignity when it proceeds from an elevated cause.\n\nSo far as I can gather from induction, dignity is not a property of any\ndisagreeable passion. One is slight another severe, one depresses the\nmind another rouses and animates it; but there is no elevation, far less\ndignity, in any of them. Revenge, in particular, though it inflame and\nswell the mind, is not accompanied with dignity, not even with\nelevation. It is not however felt as mean or groveling, unless when it\ntakes indirect measures for its gratification. Shame and remorse, though\nthey sink the spirits, are not mean. Pride, a disagreeable passion,\nbestows no dignity in the eye of a spectator. Vanity always appears\nmean; and extremely so where founded, as commonly happens, on trivial\nqualifications.\n\nI proceed to the pleasures of the understanding, which possess a high\nrank in point of dignity. Of this every one will be sensible, when he\nconsiders the important truths that have been laid open by science; such\nas general theorems, and the general laws that govern the material and\nmoral worlds. The pleasures of the understanding are suited to man as a\nrational and contemplative being; and they tend not a little to ennoble\nhis nature. Even to the Deity he stretches his contemplations, which, in\nthe discovery of infinite power wisdom and benevolence, afford delight\nof the most exalted kind. Hence it appears, that the fine arts studied\nas a rational science, afford entertainment of great dignity; superior\nfar to what they afford as a subject of taste merely.\n\nBut contemplation, though in itself valuable, is chiefly respected as\nsubservient to action; for man is intended to be more an active than a\ncontemplative being. He accordingly shows more dignity in action than in\ncontemplation. Generosity, magnanimity, heroism, raise his character to\nthe highest pitch. These best express the dignity of his nature, and\nadvance him nearer to divinity than any other of his attributes.\n\nBy every production that shows art and contrivance, our curiosity is\nexcited upon two points; first how it was made, and next to what end. Of\nthe two, the latter is the more important inquiry, because the means are\never subordinate to the end; and in fact our curiosity is always more\ninflamed by the final than by the efficient cause. This preference is no\nwhere more visible, than in contemplating the works of nature. If in the\nefficient cause, wisdom and power be displayed, wisdom is not less\nconspicuous in the final cause; and from it only can we infer\nbenevolence, which of all the divine attributes is to man the most\nimportant. Having endeavoured to assign the efficient cause of dignity\nand meanness, and to unfold the principle on which they are founded, we\nproceed to explain the final cause of the dignity or meanness bestowed\nupon the several particulars above mentioned, beginning with corporeal\npleasures. These, so far as useful, are like justice fenced with\nsufficient sanctions to prevent their being neglected. Hunger and thirst\nare painful sensations; and we are incited to animal love by a vigorous\npropensity. Were they dignified over and above with a place in a high\nclass, they would infallibly overturn the balance of the mind, by\noutweighing the social affections. This is a satisfactory final cause\nfor refusing to corporeal pleasures any degree of dignity. And the final\ncause is not less evident of their meanness, when they are indulged to\nexcess. The more refined pleasures of external sense, conveyed by the\neye and the ear from natural objects and from the fine arts, deserve a\nhigh place in our esteem, because of their singular and extensive\nutility. In some cases they arise to a considerable dignity. The very\nlowest pleasures of the kind, are never esteemed mean or groveling. The\npleasure arising from wit, humour, ridicule, or from what is simply\nludicrous, is useful, by relaxing the mind after the fatigue of more\nmanly occupation. But the mind, when it surrenders itself to pleasure of\nthis kind, loses its vigor, and sinks gradually into sloth. The place\nthis pleasure occupies in point of dignity, is adjusted to these views.\nTo make it useful as a relaxation, it is not branded with meanness. To\nprevent its usurpation, it is removed from this place but a single\ndegree. No man values himself upon this pleasure, even during the\ngratification; and if more time have been given to it than is requisite\nfor relaxation, a man looks back with some degree of shame.\n\nIn point of dignity, the social passions rise above the selfish, and\nmuch above the pleasures of the eye and ear. Man is by his nature a\nsocial being; and to qualify him for society, it is wisely contrived,\nthat he should value himself more for being social than selfish.\n\nThe excellency of man is chiefly discernible in the great improvements\nhe is susceptible of in society. These, by perseverance, may be carried\non progressively to higher and higher degrees of perfection, above any\nassignable limits; and, even abstracting from revelation, there is great\nprobability, that the progress begun in this life will be completed in\nsome future state. Now, as all valuable improvements proceed from the\nexercise of our rational faculties, the author of our nature, in order\nto excite us to a due use of these faculties, hath assigned a high rank\nto the pleasures of the understanding. Their utility, with respect to\nthis life as well as a future, intitles them to this rank.\n\nBut as action is the end of all our improvements, virtuous actions\njustly possess the highest of all the ranks. These, I find, are by\nnature distributed into different classes, and the first in point of\ndignity assigned to actions which appear not the first in point of use.\nGenerosity, for example, in the sense of mankind, is more respected than\njustice, though the latter is undoubtedly more essential to society. And\nmagnanimity, heroism, undaunted courage, rise still higher in our\nesteem. One would readily think, that the moral virtues should be\nesteemed according to their importance. Nature has here deviated from\nher ordinary path, and great wisdom is shown in the deviation. The\nefficient cause is explained above; and the final cause is explained in\nthe Essays of morality and natural religion[8].\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XII.\n\nRIDICULE.\n\n\nThis subject has puzzled and vexed all the critics. Aristotle gives a\ndefinition of ridicule, obscure and imperfect[9]. Cicero handles it at\ngreat length[10]; but without giving any satisfaction. He wanders in the\ndark, and misses the distinction betwixt risible and ridiculous.\nQuintilian is sensible of this distinction[11]; but has not attempted to\nexplain it. Luckily this subject lies no longer in obscurity. A risible\nobject produceth an emotion of laughter merely[12]. A ridiculous object\nis improper as well as risible; and produceth a mixt emotion, which is\nvented by a laugh of derision or scorn[13].\n\nHaving therefore happily unravelled the abstruse and knotty part, I\nproceed to what may be thought further necessary upon this subject.\n\nBurlesque is one great engine of ridicule. But it is not confined to\nthat subject; for it is clearly distinguishable into burlesque that\nexcites laughter merely, and burlesque that provokes derision or\nridicule. A grave subject in which there is no impropriety, may be\nbrought down by a certain colouring so as to be risible. This is the\ncase of _Virgil Travestie_[14]. And it is the case of the _Secchia\nRapita_[15]. The authors laugh first at every turn, in order to make\ntheir readers laugh. The _Lutrin_ is a burlesque poem of the other sort.\nThe author Boileau, lays hold of a low and trifling incident to expose\nthe luxury, indolence, and contentious spirit of a set of monks. He\nturns the subject into ridicule by dressing it in the heroic style, and\naffecting to consider it as of the utmost dignity and importance; and\nthough ridicule is the poet\u2019s aim, he himself carries all along a grave\nface, and never once bewrays a smile. The opposition betwixt the subject\nand the manner of handling it, is what produces the ridicule. In a\ncomposition of this kind, no image professedly ludicrous ought to have\nquarter; because such images destroy the contrast.\n\nThough the burlesque that aims at ridicule, produces its effect by\nelevating the style far above the subject, yet it has limits beyond\nwhich the elevation ought not to be carried. The poet, consulting the\nimagination of his readers, ought to confine himself to such images as\nare lively and readily apprehended. A strained elevation, soaring above\nan ordinary reach of fancy, makes not a pleasant impression. The mind\nfatigued with being always upon the stretch, is soon disgusted; and if\nit perseveres, becomes thoughtless and indifferent. Further, a fiction\ngives no pleasure, unless where painted in so lively colours as to\nproduce some perception of reality; which never can be done effectually\nwhere the images are formed with labour or difficulty. For these\nreasons, I cannot avoid condemning the _Batrachomuomachia_ said to be\nthe composition of Homer. It is beyond the power of imagination, to form\na clear and lively image of frogs and mice acting with the dignity of\nthe highest of our species: nor can we form a conception of the reality\nof such an action, in any manner so distinct as to interest our\naffections even in the slightest degree.\n\nThe _Rape of the Lock_ is of a character clearly distinguishable from\nthose now mentioned. It is not properly a burlesque performance, but\nwhat may rather be termed _an heroi-comical poem_. It treats a gay and\nfamiliar subject, with pleasantry and with a moderate degree of dignity.\nThe author puts not on a mask like Boileau, nor professes to make us\nlaugh like Tassoni. The _Rape of the Lock_ is a genteel and gay species\nof writing, less strained than the others mentioned; and is pleasant or\nludicrous without having ridicule for its chief aim; giving way however\nto ridicule where it arises naturally from a particular character, such\nas that of Sir Plume. Addison\u2019s _Spectator_ upon the exercise of the\nfan[16] is extremely gay and ludicrous, resembling in its subject the\n_Rape of the Lock_.\n\nHumour belongs to the present chapter, because it is undoubtedly\nconnected with ridicule. Congreve defines humour to be \u201ca singular and\nunavoidable manner of doing or saying any thing, peculiar and natural to\none man only, by which his speech and actions are distinguished from\nthose of other men.\u201d Were this definition just, a majestic and\ncommanding air, which is a singular property, is humour; as also that\nnatural flow of eloquence and correct elocution which is a rare talent.\nNothing just or proper is denominated humour; nor any singularity of\ncharacter, words, or actions, that is valued or respected. When we\nattend to the character of an humorist, we find that the peculiarity of\nthis character lessens the man in our esteem: we find that this\ncharacter arises from circumstances both risible and improper, and\ntherefore in some measure ridiculous.\n\nHumour in writing is very different from humour in character. When an\nauthor insists upon ludicrous subjects with a professed purpose to make\nhis readers laugh, he may be styled _a ludicrous writer_; but is scarce\nintitled to be styled _a writer of humour_. This quality belongs to an\nauthor, who, affecting to be grave and serious, paints his objects in\nsuch colours as to provoke mirth and laughter. A writer that is really\nan humorist in character, does this without design. If not, he must\naffect the character in order to succeed. Swift and Fontaine were\nhumorists in character, and their writings are full of humour. Addison\nwas not an humorist in character; and yet in his prose writings a most\ndelicate and refined humour prevails. Arbuthnot exceeds them all in\ndrollery and humorous painting; which shows a great genius, because, if\nI am not misinformed, he had nothing of this peculiarity in his\ncharacter.\n\nThere remains to show, by examples, the manner of treating subjects so\nas to give them a ridiculous appearance.\n\n    Il ne dit jamais, je vous donne, mais, je vous\n    prete le bon jour.\n         _Moliere._\n\n     _Orleans._ I know him to be valiant.\n\n     _Constable._ I was told that by one that knows him better than you.\n\n     _Orleans._ What\u2019s he?\n\n     _Constable._ Marry, he told me so himself; and he said, he car\u2019d\n     not who knew it.\n\n                     _Henry_ V. _Shakespear._\n\n\n\n    He never broke any man\u2019s head but his own, and\n    that was against a post when he was drunk.\n         _Ibid._\n\n     _Millament._ Sententious Mirabell! pr\u2019ythee don\u2019t look with that\n     violent and inflexible wise face, like Solomon at the dividing of\n     the child in an old tapestry hanging.\n\n                     _Way of the world._\n\n\n\n     A true critic in the perusal of a book, is like a dog at a feast,\n     whose thoughts and stomach are wholly set upon what the guests\n     fling away, and consequently is apt to snarl most when there are\n     the fewest bones.\n\n                     _Tale of a Tub._\n\n\n\nIn the following instances the ridicule is made to appear from the\nbehaviour of the persons introduced.\n\n     _Mascarille._ Te souvient-il, vicomte, de cette demi-lune, que nous\n     emport\u00e2mes sur les ennemis au siege d\u2019Arras?\n\n     _Jedelet._ Que veux tu dire avec ta demi-lune? c\u2019etoit bien une\n     lune toute entiere.\n\n                     _Moliere les Precieuses Ridicules, sc. 11._\n\n\n\n     _Slender._ I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mrs. Anne Page; and\n     she\u2019s a great lubberly boy.\n\n     _Page._ Upon my life then you took the wrong.\n\n     _Slender._ What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a\n     boy for a girl: if I had been marry\u2019d to him, for all he was in\n     woman\u2019s apparel, I would not have had him.\n\n                     _Merry Wives of Windsor._\n\n\n\n     _Valentine._ Your blessing, Sir.\n\n     _Sir Sampson._ You\u2019ve had it already, Sir: I think I sent it you\n     to-day in a bill for four thousand pound; a great deal of money,\n     Brother Foresight.\n\n     _Foresight._ Ay indeed, Sir Sampson, a great deal of money for a\n     young man; I wonder what can he do with it.\n\n                     _Love for Love, act 2. sc. 7._\n\n\n\n     _Millamant._ I nauseate walking; \u2019tis a country-diversion; I lothe\n     the country, and every thing that relates to it.\n\n     _Sir Wilful._ Indeed! hah! look ye, look ye, you do? nay, \u2019tis like\n     you may---- here are choice of pastimes here in town, as plays and\n     the like; that must be confess\u2019d indeed.\n\n     _Millamant._ Ah l\u2019etourdie! I hate the town too.\n\n     _Sir Wilful._ Dear heart, that\u2019s much---- hah! that you should hate\n     \u2019em both! hah! \u2019tis like you may; there are some can\u2019t relish the\n     town, and others can\u2019t away with the country---- \u2019tis like you may\n     be one of those, Cousine.\n\n                     _Way of the world, act 4. sc. 4._\n\n\n\n     _Lord Froth._ I assure you, Sir Paul, I laugh at no body\u2019s jest but\n     my own, or a lady\u2019s: I assure you, Sir Paul.\n\n     _Brisk._ How? how, my Lord? what, affront my wit! Let me perish, do\n     I never say any thing worthy to be laugh\u2019d at?\n\n     _Lord Froth._ O foy, don\u2019t misapprehend me, I don\u2019t say so, for I\n     often smile at your conceptions. But there is nothing more\n     unbecoming a man of quality, than to laugh; \u2019tis such a vulgar\n     expression of the passion! every body can laugh. Then especially to\n     laugh at the jest of an inferior person, or when any body else of\n     the same quality does not laugh with one; ridiculous! To be pleas\u2019d\n     with what pleases the crowd! Now, when I laugh I always laugh\n     alone.\n\n                     _Double Dealer, act 1. sc. 4._\n\n\n\nSo sharp-sighted is pride in blemishes, and so willing to be gratified,\nthat it will take up with the very slightest improprieties; such as a\nblunder by a foreigner in speaking our language, especially if the\nblunder can bear a sense that reflects upon the speaker:\n\n     _Quickly._ The young man is an honest man.\n\n     _Caius._ What shall de honest man do in my closet? dere is no\n     honest man dat shall come in my closet.\n\n                     _Merry Wives of Windsor._\n\n\n\nLove-speeches are finely ridiculed in the following passage.\n\n    Quoth he, My faith as adamantine,\n    As chains of destiny, I\u2019ll maintain;\n    True as Apollo ever spoke,\n    Or oracle from heart of oak;\n    And if you\u2019ll give my flame but vent,\n    Now in close hugger-mugger pent,\n    And shine upon me but benignly,\n    With that one, and that other pigsneye,\n    The sun and day shall sooner part,\n    Than love, or you, shake off my heart;\n    The sun that shall no more dispense\n    His own, but your bright influence:\n    I\u2019ll carve your name on barks of trees,\n    With true love knots, and flourishes;\n    That shall infuse eternal spring,\n    And everlasting flourishing:\n    Drink ev\u2019ry letter on\u2019t in stum,\n    And make it brisk champaign become.\n    Where-e\u2019er you tread, your foot shall set\n    The primrose and the violet;\n    All spices, perfumes, and sweet powders,\n    Shall borrow from your breath their odours;\n    Nature her charter shall renew\n    And take all lives of things from you;\n    The world depend upon your eye,\n    And when you frown upon it, die.\n    Only our loves shall still survive,\n    New worlds and natures to outlive;\n    And, like to herald\u2019s moons, remain\n    All crescents, without change or wane.\n         _Hudibras, part 2. canto 1._\n\nIrony turns things into ridicule in a peculiar manner. It consists in\nlaughing at a man under disguise, by appearing to praise or speak well\nof him. Swift affords us many illustrious examples of this species of\nridicule. Take the following example. \u201cBy these methods, in a few weeks,\nthere starts up many a writer, capable of managing the profoundest and\nmost universal subjects. For what though his head be empty, provided\nhis commonplace book be full? And if you will bate him but the\ncircumstances of method, and style, and grammar, and invention; allow\nhim but the common privileges of transcribing from others, and\ndigressing from himself, as often as he shall see occasion; he will\ndesire no more ingredients towards fitting up a treatise that shall make\na very comely figure on a bookseller\u2019s shelf, there to be preserved neat\nand clean, for a long eternity, adorned with the heraldry of its title,\nfairly inscribed on a label; never to be thumbed or greased by students,\nnor bound to everlasting chains of darkness in a library; but when the\nfullness of time is come, shall happily undergo the trial of purgatory,\nin order to ascend the sky[17].\u201d The following passage from Arbuthnot is\nnot less ironical. \u201cIf the Reverend clergy showed more concern than\nothers, I charitably impute it to their great charge of souls; and what\nconfirmed me in this opinion was, that the degrees of apprehension and\nterror could be distinguished to be greater or less, according to their\nranks and degrees in the church[18].\u201d\n\nA parody must be distinguished from every species of ridicule. It\nenlivens a gay subject by imitating some important incident that is\nserious. It is ludicrous, and may be risible. But ridicule is not a\nnecessary ingredient. Take the following examples, the first of which\nrefers to an expression of Moses.\n\n    The skilful nymph reviews her force with care:\n    Let spades be trumps! she said, and trumps they were.\n         _Rape of the Lock_, _canto_ iii. 45.\n\nThe next is an imitation of Achilles\u2019s oath in Homer.\n\n    But by this lock, this sacred lock, I swear,\n    (Which never more shall join its parted hair,\n    Which never more its honours shall renew,\n    Clip\u2019d from the lovely head where late it grew),\n    That while my nostrils draw the vital air,\n    This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.\n    He spoke, and speaking, in proud triumph spread\n    The long contended honours of her head.\n         _Ibid._ _canto_ iv. 133.\n\nThe following imitates the history of Agamemnon\u2019s sceptre in Homer.\n\n    Now meet thy fate, incens\u2019d Belinda cry\u2019d,\n    And drew a deadly bodkin from her side,\n    (The same, his ancient personage to deck,\n    Her great-great-grandsire wore about his neck,\n    In three seal rings; which after, melted down,\n    Form\u2019d a vast buckle for his widow\u2019s gown:\n    Her infant grandame\u2019s whistle next it grew,\n    The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew;\n    Then in a bodkin grac\u2019d her mother\u2019s hairs,\n    Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)\n         _Ibid._ _canto_ v. 87.\n\nRidicule, as observed above, is no necessary ingredient in a parody. But\nI did not intend to say, that there is any opposition betwixt them. A\nparody, no doubt, may be successfully employed to promote ridicule;\nwitness the following example, in which the goddess of Dullness is\naddressed upon the subject of modern education.\n\n    Thou gav\u2019st that ripeness, which so soon began,\n    And ceas\u2019d so soon, he ne\u2019er was boy nor man;\n    Through school and college, thy kind cloud o\u2019ercast,\n    Safe and unseen the young \u00c6neas past[19];\n    Thence bursting glorious, all at once let down,\n    Stunn\u2019d with his giddy larum half the town.\n         _Dunciad_, _b._ iv. 287.\n\nThe interposition of the gods in the manner of Homer and Virgil, ought\nto be confined to ludicrous subjects, which are much enlivened by such\ninterposition handled in the form of a parody; witness the cave of\nSpleen, _Rape of the Lock_, _canto_ 4.; the goddess of Discord;\n_Lutrin_, _canto_ 1.; and the goddess of Indolence, _canto_ 2.\n\nThose who have a talent for ridicule, which is seldom united with a\ntaste for delicate and refined beauties, are quick-sighted in\nimproprieties; and these they eagerly lay hold of, in order to gratify\ntheir favourite propensity. The persons galled have no other refuge but\nto maintain, that ridicule ought not to be applied to grave subjects. It\nis yielded, on the other hand, that subjects really grave and important,\nare by no means fit for ridicule: but then it is urged, that ridicule is\nthe only proper test for discovering whether a subject be really grave,\nor be made so artificially by custom and fashion. This dispute has\nproduced a celebrated question, Whether ridicule be or be not a test of\ntruth? I give this question a place here, because it tends to illustrate\nthe nature of ridicule.\n\nThe question stated in accurate terms is, Whether the sense of ridicule\nbe the proper test for distinguishing ridiculous objects from those that\nare not so? To answer this question with precision, I must premise, that\nridicule is not a subject of reasoning, but of sense or taste[20]. This\nbeing taken for granted, I proceed thus. No person doubts that our sense\nof beauty is the true test of what is beautiful, and our sense of\ngrandeur, of what is great or sublime. Is it more doubtful whether our\nsense of ridicule be the true test of what is ridiculous? It is not only\nthe true test, but indeed the only test. For this is a subject that\ncomes not, more than beauty or grandeur, under the province of reason.\nIf any subject, by the influence of fashion or custom, have acquired a\ndegree of veneration or esteem to which naturally it is not intitled,\nwhat are the proper means for wiping off the artificial colouring, and\ndisplaying the subject in its true light? Reasoning, as observed, cannot\nbe applied. And therefore the only means is to judge by taste. The test\nof ridicule which separates it from its artificial connections, exposes\nit naked with all its native improprieties.\n\nBut it is urged, that the gravest and most serious matters may be set in\na ridiculous light. Hardly so; for where an object is neither risible\nnor improper, it lies not open in any quarter to an attack from\nridicule. But supposing the fact, I foresee not any harmful consequence.\nBy the same sort of reasoning, a talent for wit ought to be condemned,\nbecause it may be employed to burlesque a great or lofty subject. Such\nirregular use made of a talent for wit or ridicule, cannot long impose\nupon mankind. It cannot stand the test of correct and delicate taste;\nand truth will at last prevail even with the vulgar. To condemn a talent\nfor ridicule because it may be perverted to wrong purposes, is not a\nlittle ridiculous. Could one forbear to smile, if a talent for reasoning\nwere condemned because it also may be perverted? And yet the conclusion\nin the latter case, would be not less just than in the former; perhaps\nmore just, for no talent is so often perverted as that of reason.\n\nWe had best leave Nature to her own operations. The most valuable\ntalents may be abused, and so may that of ridicule. Let us bring it\nunder proper culture if we can, without endeavouring to pull it up by\nthe root. Were we destitute of this test of truth, I know not what might\nbe the consequences: I see not what rule would be left us to prevent\nsplendid trifles passing for matters of importance, show and form for\nsubstance, and superstition or enthusiasm for pure religion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XIII.\n\nWIT.\n\n\nWit is a quality of certain thoughts and expressions. The term is never\napplied to an action or a passion, and as little to an external object.\n\nHowever difficult it may be in every particular instance to distinguish\na witty thought or expression from one that is not so, yet in general it\nmay be laid down, that the term _wit_ is appropriated to such thoughts\nand expressions as are ludicrous, and also occasion some degree of\nsurprise by their singularity. Wit also in a figurative sense expresses\nthat talent which some men have of inventing ludicrous thoughts or\nexpressions. We say commonly, _a witty man_, or _a man of wit_.\n\nWit in its proper sense, as suggested above, is distinguishable into two\nkinds; wit in the thought, and wit in the words or expression. Again,\nwit in the thought is of two kinds; ludicrous images, and ludicrous\ncombinations of things that have little or no natural relation.\n\nLudicrous images that occasion surprise by their singularity, as having\nlittle or no foundation in nature, are fabricated by the imagination.\nAnd the imagination is well qualified for the office; being of all our\nfaculties the most active, and the least under restraint. Take the\nfollowing example.\n\n     _Shylock._ You knew (none so well, none so well as you) of my\n     daughter\u2019s flight.\n\n     _Salino._ That\u2019s certain; I, for my part, knew the tailor that made\n     the wings she flew withal.\n\n                     _Merchant of Venice, act 3. sc. 1._\n\n\n\nThe image here is undoubtedly witty. It is ludicrous: and it must\noccasion surprise; for having no natural foundation, it is altogether\nunexpected.\n\nThe other branch of wit in the thought, is that only which is taken\nnotice of by Addison, following Locke, who defines it \u201cto lie in the\nassemblage of ideas; and putting those together with quickness and\nvariety, wherein can be found any resemblance or congruity, thereby to\nmake up pleasant pictures and agreeable visions in the fancy[21].\u201d It\nmay be defined more curtly, and perhaps more accurately, \u201cA junction of\nthings by distant and fanciful relations, which surprise because they\nare unexpected[22].\u201d The following is a proper example.\n\n    We grant although he had much wit,\n    H\u2019 was very shie of using it,\n    As being loth to wear it out;\n    And therefore bore it not about,\n    Unless on holidays, or so,\n    As men their best apparel do.\n         _Hudibras, canto 1._\n\nWit is of all the most elegant recreation. The image enters the mind\nwith gaiety, and gives a sudden flash which is extremely pleasant. Wit\nthereby gently elevates without straining, raises mirth without\ndissoluteness, and relaxes while it entertains.\n\nWit in the expression, commonly called _a play of words_, being a\nbastard sort of wit, is reserved for the last place. I proceed to\nexamples of wit in the thought. And first of ludicrous images.\n\nFalstaff, speaking of his taking Sir John Colevile of the Dale:\n\n     Here he is, and here I yield him; and I beseech your Grace, let it\n     be book\u2019d with the rest of this day\u2019s deeds; or, by the Lord, I\n     will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on\n     the top of it, Colevile kissing my foot: to the which course if I\n     be inforc\u2019d, if you do not all shew like gilt twopences to me; and\n     I, in the clear sky of fame, o\u2019er-shine you as much as the full\n     moon doth the cinders of the element, which shew like pins\u2019 heads\n     to her; believe not the word of the Noble. Therefore let me have\n     right, and let desert mount.\n\n                     _Second part, Henry IV. act 4. sc. 6._\n\n\n\n     I knew, when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but when\n     the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an\n     _if_; as, if you said so, then I said so; and they shook hands, and\n     swore brothers. Your _if_ is the only peacemaker; much virtue is in\n     _if_.\n\n                     _Shakespear._\n\n\n\n     For there is not through all nature, another so callous and\n     insensible a member as the world\u2019s posteriors, whether you apply to\n     it the toe or the birch.\n\n                     _Preface to a Tale of a tub._\n\n\n\n     The war hath introduced abundance of polysyllables, which will\n     never be able to live many more campaigns. Speculations,\n     operations, preliminaries, ambassadors, palisadoes, communication,\n     circumvallation, battalions, as numerous as they are, if they\n     attack us too frequently in our coffeehouses, we shall certainly\n     put them to flight, and cut off the rear.\n\n                     _Tatler_, N\u00ba 230.\n\n\n\n     Speaking of Discord, \u201cShe never went abroad, but she brought home\n     such a bundle of monstrous lies, as would have amazed any mortal,\n     but such as knew her; of a whale that had swallowed a fleet of\n     ships; of the lions being let out of the tower to destroy the\n     Protestant religion; of the Pope\u2019s being seen in a brandy-shop at\n     Wapping,\u201d _&c._\n\n                     _History of John Bull, part. 1. ch. 16._\n\n\n\nThe other branch of wit in the thought, _viz._ ludicrous combinations\nand oppositions, may be traced through various ramifications. And,\nfirst, fanciful causes assigned that have no natural relation to the\neffects produced.\n\n     _Lancaster._ Fare you well, Falstaff; I, in my condition, Shall\n     better speak of you than you deserve. [_Exit._\n\n     _Falstaff._ I would you had but the wit; \u2019twere better than your\n     dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not\n     love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh; but that\u2019s no marvel, he\n     drinks no wine. There\u2019s never any of these demure boys come to any\n     proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, and making\n     many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness;\n     and then, when they marry, they get wenches. They are generally\n     fools and cowards; which some of us should be too, but for\n     inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in it;\n     it ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the foolish, dull,\n     and crudy vapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive, quick,\n     forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which\n     deliver\u2019d o\u2019er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth,\n     becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent\n     sherris, is, the warming of the blood; which before cold and\n     settled left the liver white and pale; which is the badge of\n     pusillanimity and cowardice: but the sherris warms it, and makes\n     it course from the inwards, to the parts extreme; it illuminateth\n     the face, which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this\n     little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and\n     inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart;\n     who, great, and puff\u2019d up with this retinue, doth any deed of\n     courage: and this valour comes of sherris. So that skill in the\n     weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and\n     learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, till sack commences\n     it, and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it, that Prince Harry\n     is valiant; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his\n     father, he hath, like lean, steril, and bare land, manured,\n     husbanded, and till\u2019d, with excellent endeavour of drinking good\n     and good store of fertil sherris, that he is become very hot and\n     valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I\n     would teach them, should be to forswear thin potations, and to\n     addict themselves to sack.\n\n                     _Second part of Henry_ IV. _act. 4. sc. 7_.\n\n\n\n      The trenchant blade, toledo trusty,\n    For want of fighting was grown rusty,\n    And ate into itself, for lack\n    Of some body to hew and hack.\n    The peaceful scabbard where it dwelt,\n    The rancor of its edge had felt:\n    For of the lower end two handful,\n    It had devoured, \u2019twas so manful;\n    And so much scorn\u2019d to lurk in case,\n    As if it durst not shew its face.\n         _Hudibras, canto 1._\n\nSpeaking of physicians,\n\n     Le bon de cette profession est, qu\u2019il y a parmi les morts une\n     honn\u00eatet\u00e9, une discretion la plus grande du monde; jamais on n\u2019en\n     voit se plaindre du m\u00e9dicin qui l\u2019a tu\u00e9.\n\n                     _Le medicin malgr\u00e9 lui._\n\n\n\n    Admirez les bontez, admirez les tendresses,\n    De ces vieux esclaves du sort.\n    Ils ne sont jamais las d\u2019aqu\u00e9rir des richesses,\n    Pour ceux qui souhaitent leur mort.\n\n     _Belinda._ Lard, he has so pester\u2019d me with flames and stuff--I\n     think I shan\u2019t endure the sight of a fire this twelvemonth.\n\n                     _Old Bachelor, act 2. sc. 8._\n\n\n\nTo account for effects by such fantastical causes, being highly\nludicrous, is quite improper in any serious composition. Therefore the\nfollowing passage from Cowley, in his poem on the death of Sir Henry\nWooton, is in a bad taste.\n\n    He did the utmost bounds of Knowledge find,\n    He found them not so large as was his mind.\n    But, like the brave Pell\u00e6an youth, did moan,\n    Because that Art had no more worlds than one.\n    And when he saw that he through all had past,\n    He dy\u2019d, lest he should idle grow at last.\n\nFanciful reasoning,\n\n     _Falstaff._ Imbowell\u2019d!---- if thou imbowel me to-day, I\u2019ll give\n     you leave to powder me, and eat me to-morrow! \u2019Sblood, \u2019twas time\n     to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot\n     too. Counterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit; to die is to be a\n     counterfeit; for he is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not\n     the life of a man: but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby\n     liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of\n     life, indeed.\n\n                     _First Part Henry IV. act 1. sc. 10._\n\n\n\n     _Clown_. And the more pity that great folk should have countenance\n     in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even\n     Christian.\n\n                     _Hamlet, Act 5. sc. 1._\n\n\n\n     _Pedro._ Will you have me, Lady?\n\n     _Beatrice._ No, my Lord, unless I might have another for working\n     days. Your Grace is too costly to wear every day.\n\n                     _Much ado about nothing, act 2. sc. 5._\n\n\n\n     _Jessica._ I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a\n     Christian.\n\n     _Launcelot._ Truly the more to blame he; we were Christians enough\n     before, e\u2019en as many as could well live by one another: this making\n     of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we grow all to be\n     pork-eaters, we shall not have a rasher on the coals for money.\n\n                     _Merchant of Venice, act 3. sc. 6._\n\n\n\n    In western clime there is a town,\n    To those that dwell therein well known;\n    Therefore there needs no more be said here,\n    We unto them refer our reader:\n    For brevity is very good,\n    When w\u2019 are, or are not understood.\n\n    _Hudibras, canto 1._\n    But Hudibras gave him a twitch,\n    As quick as lightning, in the breech,\n    Just in the place where honour\u2019s lodg\u2019d,\n    As wise philosophers have judg\u2019d;\n    Because a kick in that part, more\n    Hurts honour, than deep wounds before.\n         _Ibid. canto 3._\n\nLudicrous junction of small things with great, as of equal importance.\n\n    This day black omens threat the brightest fair\n    That e\u2019er deserv\u2019d a watchful spirit\u2019s care;\n    Some dire disaster, or by force, or flight;\n    But what, or where, the fates have wrapt in night:\n    Whether the nymph shall break Diana\u2019s law;\n    Or some frail china jar receive a flaw;\n    Or stain her honour, or her new brocade;\n    Forget her pray\u2019rs, or miss a masquerade;\n    Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball;\n    Or whether Heav\u2019n has doom\u2019d that Shock must fall.\n         _Rape of the Lock, canto_ ii. 101.\n\n    One speaks the glory of the British Queen,\n    And one describes a charming Indian screen.\n\n    _Ibid. canto_ iii. 13.\n    Then flash\u2019d the living lightning from her eyes,\n    And screams of horror rend th\u2019 affrighted skies.\n    Not louder shrieks to pitying heav\u2019n are cast,\n    When husbands, or when lapdogs breathe their last;\n    Or when rich china vessels fall\u2019n from high,\n    In glitt\u2019ring dust, and painted fragments lie!\n         _Ibid. canto_ iii. 155.\n\n    Not youthful kings in battle seiz\u2019d alive,\n    Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,\n    Not ardent lovers robb\u2019d of all their bliss,\n    Not ancient ladies when refus\u2019d a kiss,\n    Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,\n    Not Cynthia when her manteau\u2019s pinn\u2019d awry,\n    E\u2019er felt such rage, resentment, and despair,\n    As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravish\u2019d hair.\n         _Ibid. canto_ iv. 3.\n\nJoining things that in appearance are opposite. As for example, where\nSir Roger de Coverley, in the Spectator, speaking of his widow, \u201cThat he\nwould have given her a coal-pit to have kept her in clean linen; and\nthat her finger should have sparkled with one hundred of his richest\nacres.\u201d\n\nPremisses that promise much and perform nothing. Cicero upon this\narticle says, \u201cSed scitis esse notissimum ridiculi genus, cum aliud\nexpectamus, aliud dicitur: hic nobismetipsis noster error risum\nmovet[23].\u201d\n\n     _Beatrice._---- With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money\n     enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world,\n     if he could get her good-will.\n\n                     _Much ado about nothing, act 2. sc. 1._\n\n\n\n     _Beatrice._ I have a good eye, uncle, I can see a church by\n     day-light.\n\n                     _ibid._\n\n\n\n    Le medecin que l\u2019on m\u2019indique\n    Sait le Latin, le Grec, l\u2019Hebreu,\n    Les belles lettres, la physique,\n    La chimie et la botanique.\n    Chacun lui donne son aveu:\n    Il auroit aussi ma pratique;\n    Mais je veux vivre encore un peu.\n\nAgain,\n\n    Vingt fois le jour le bon Gr\u00e9goire\n    A soin de fermer son armoire.\n    De quoi pensez vous qu\u2019il a peur?\n    Belle demande! Qu\u2019un voleur\n    Trouvant une facile proie,\n    Ne lui ravisse tout son bien.\n    Non; Gregoire a peur qu\u2019on ne voie\n    Que dan son armoire il n\u2019a rien.\n\nAgain,\n\n    L\u2019athsmatique Damon a cru que l\u2019air des champs\n    Repareroit en lui le ravage des ans,\n    Il s\u2019est fait, a grands fraix, transporter en Bretagne.\n    Or voiez ce qu\u2019a fait l\u2019air natal qu\u2019il a pris!\n    Damon seroit mort \u00e0 Paris:\n    Damon est mort \u00e0 la campagne.\n\nHaving discussed wit in the thought, we proceed to what is verbal only,\ncommonly called _a play of words_. This sort of wit depends for the most\npart upon chusing words that have different significations. By this\nartifice, hocus-pocus tricks are played in language; and thoughts plain\nand simple take on a very different appearance. Play is necessary for\nman, in order to refresh him after labour; and accordingly man loves\nplay. He even relisheth a play of words; and it is happy for us, that\nwords can be employed, not only for useful purposes, but also for our\namusement. This amusement accordingly, though humble and low, is\nrelished by some at all times, and by all at some times, in order to\nunbend the mind.\n\nIt is remarkable, that this low species of wit, has, at one time or\nother, made a figure in most civilized nations, and has gradually gone\ninto disrepute. So soon as a language is formed into a system, and the\nmeaning of words are ascertained with tolerable accuracy, opportunity is\nafforded for expressions, which, by the double meaning of some words,\ngive a familiar thought the appearance of being new. And the penetration\nof the reader or hearer, is gratified in detecting the true sense\ndisguised under the double meaning. That this sort of wit was in England\ndeemed a reputable amusement, during the reigns of Elisabeth and James\nI. is vouched by the works of Shakespear, and even by the writings of\ngrave divines. But it cannot have any long endurance: for as language\nripens, and the meaning of words is more and more ascertained, words\nheld to be synonymous diminish daily; and when those that remain have\nbeen more than once employed, the pleasure vanisheth with the novelty.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI proceed to examples, which, as in the former case, shall be\ndistributed into different classes.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA seeming resemblance from the double meaning of a word.\n\n    Beneath this stone my wife doth lie:\n    She\u2019s now at rest, and so am I.\n\nA seeming contrast from the same cause, termed _a verbal antithesis_,\nwhich hath no despicable effect in ludicrous subjects.\n\n    Whilst Iris his cosmetic wash would try\n    To make her bloom revive, and lovers die.\n    Some ask for charms, and others philters chuse,\n    To gain Corinna, and their quartans lose,\n         _Dispensary, canto 2._\n\n    And how frail nymphs, oft by abortion, aim\n    To lose a substance, to preserve a name.\n         _Ibid. canto 3._\n\nOther seeming connections from the same cause.\n\n    Will you employ your conqu\u2019ring sword,\n    To break a fiddle and your word.\n         _Hudibras, canto 2._\n\n    To whom the knight with comely grace\n    Put off his hat to put his case.\n         _Hudibras, Part 3. canto 3._\n\n    Here Britain\u2019s statesmen oft the fall foredoom\n    Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at home;\n    Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,\n    Does sometimes counsel take--and sometimes tea.\n         _Rape of the Lock, canto 3. l. 5._\n\n    O\u2019er their quietus where fat judges dose,\n    And lull their cough and conscience to repose.\n         _Dispensary, canto 1._\n\n     Speaking of Prince Eugene. \u201cThis General is a great taker of snuff\n     as well as of towns.\u201d\n\n                     _Pope, Key to the Lock._\n\n\n\n    Exul mentisque domusque.\n         _Metamorphoses_, _lib._ ix. 409.\n\nA seeming inconsistency from the same cause.\n\n    Hic quiescit qui nunquam quievit.\n\nAgain,\n\n    Quel \u00e2ge a cette Iris, dont on fait tant de bruit?\n    Me demandoit Cliton n\u2019aguere.\n    Il faut, dis-je, vous satisfaire,\n    Elle a vingt ans le jour, et cinquante ans la nuit.\n\nAgain,\n\n    So like the chances are of love and war,\n    That they alone in this distinguish\u2019d are;\n    In love the victors from the vanguish\u2019d fly,\n    They fly that wound, and they pursue that die.\n         _Waller._\n\n    What new-found witchcraft was in thee,\n    With thine own cold to kindle me?\n    Strange art; like him that should devise\n    To make a burning-glass of ice.\n         _Cowley._\n\nWit of this kind is unsuitable in a serious poem; witness the following\nline in Pope\u2019s Elegy to the memory of an unfortunate lady:\n\n    Cold is that breast which warm\u2019d the world before.\n\nThis sort of writing is finely burlesqued by Swift:\n\n    Her hands, the softest ever felt,\n    Though cold would burn, though dry would melt.\n         _Strephon and Chloe._\n\nTaking a word in a different sense from what is meant, comes under wit,\nbecause it occasions some slight degree of surprise.\n\n     _Beatrice._ I may sit in a corner, and cry _Heigh ho!_ for a\n     husband.\n\n     _Pedro._ Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.\n\n     _Beatrice._ I would rather have one of your father\u2019s getting: hath\n     your Grace ne\u2019er a brother like you? Your father got excellent\n     husbands, if a maid could come by them.\n\n                     _Much ado about nothing, act 2. sc. 5._\n\n\n\n     _Falstaff._ My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.\n\n     _Pistol._ Two yards and more.\n\n     _Falstaff._ No quips now, Pistol: indeed, I am in the waste two\n     yards about; but I am now about no waste; I am about thrift.\n\n                     _Merry wives of Windsor, act 1. sc. 7._\n\n\n\n     _Lo. Sands._---- By your leave, sweet ladies, If I chance to talk a\n     little wild, forgive me: I had it from my father.\n\n     _Anne Bullen._ Was he mad, Sir?\n\n     _Sands._ O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too; But he would bite\n     none----\n\n                     _K. Henry_ VIII.\n\n\n\nAn assertion that bears a double meaning, one right, one wrong; but so\nconnected with other matters as to direct us to the wrong meaning. This\nspecies of bastard wit is distinguished from all others by the name\n_pun_. For example,\n\n    _Paris._---- Sweet Helen, I must woo you,\n    To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,\n    With these your white inchanting fingers touch\u2019d,\n    Shall more obey, than to the edge of steel,\n    Or force of Greekish sinews: you shall do more\n    Than all the island kings, disarm great Hector.\n         _Troilus and Cressida, act 3. sc. 2._\n\nThe pun is in the close. The word _disarm_ has a double meaning. It\nsignifies to take off a man\u2019s armour, and also to subdue him in fight.\nWe are directed to the latter sense by the context. But with regard to\nHelen the word holds only true in the former sense. I go on with other\nexamples.\n\n    Esse nihil dicis quicquid petis, improbe Cinna:\n    Si nil, Cinna, petis, nil tibi, Cinna, nego.\n         _Martial, l. 3. epigr. 61._\n\n    Jocondus geminum imposuit tibi, Sequana, pontem;\n    Hunc tu jure potes dicere pontificem.\n         _Sanazarius._\n\n               N. B. _Jocondus was a monk._\n\n     _Chief Justice._ Well! the truth is, Sir John, you live in great\n     infamy.\n\n     _Falstaff._ He that buckles him in my belt, cannot live in less.\n\n     _Chief Justice._ Your means are very slender, and your waste is\n     great.\n\n     _Falstaff._ I would it were otherwise: I would my means were\n     greater, and my waste slenderer.\n\n                     _Second part, Henry_ IV. _act. 1 sc. 5._\n\n\n\n     _Celia._ I pray you bear with me, I can go no further.\n\n     _Clown._ For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you: yet\n     I should bear no cross if I did bear you; for I think you have no\n     money in your purse.\n\n                     _As you like it, act 2. sc. 4._\n\n\n\n    He that imposes an oath makes it,\n    Not he that for convenience takes it;\n    Then how can any man be said,\n    To break an oath he never made?\n         _Hudibras, part 2. canto 2._\n\nThe seventh satire of the first book of Horace, is purposely contrived\nto introduce at the close a most execrable pun. Talking of some infamous\nwretch whose name was _Rex Rupilius_.\n\n    Persius exclamat, Per magnos, Brute, deos te\n    Oro, qui reges consueris tollere, cur non\n    Hunc regem jugulas? Operum hoc, mihi crede, tuorum est.\n\nThough playing with words is a mark of a mind at ease, and disposed for\nany sort of amusement, we must not thence conclude that playing with\nwords is always ludicrous. Words are so intimately connected with\nthought, that if the subject be really grave, it will not appear\nludicrous even in this fantastic dress. I am, however, far from\nrecommending it in any serious performance. On the contrary, the\ndiscordance betwixt the thought and expression must be disagreeable;\nwitness the following specimen.\n\n     He hath abandoned his physicians, Madam, under whose practices he\n     hath persecuted time with hope: and finds no other advantage in the\n     process, but only the losing of hope by time.\n\n                     _All\u2019s well that ends well, act 1. sc. 1._\n\n\n\n    _K. Henry._ O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!\n    When that my care could not with-hold thy riots,\n    What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?\n         _Second part, K. Henry_ IV.\n\nA smart repartee may be considered as a species of wit. A certain\npetulant Greek, objecting to Anacharsis that he was a Scythian: True,\nsays Anacharsis, my country disgraces me, but you disgrace your\ncountry.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XIV.\n\nCustom and Habit.\n\n\nInquiring into the nature of man as a sensitive being, and finding him\naffected in a high degree with novelty, would any one conjecture that he\nis equally affected with custom? Yet these frequently take place, not\nonly in the same person, but even with relation to the same subject:\nwhen new, it is inchanting; familiarity renders it indifferent; and\ncustom, after a longer familiarity, makes it again desirable. Human\nnature, diversified with many and various springs of action, is\nwonderfully, and, indulging the expression, intricately constructed.\n\nCustom hath such influence upon many of our feelings, by warping and\nvarying them, that we must attend to its operations if we would be\nacquainted with human nature. This subject, in itself obscure, has been\nmuch neglected; and to give a complete analysis of it will be no easy\ntask. I pretend only to touch it cursorily; hoping, however, that what\nis here laid down, will dispose more diligent inquirers to attempt\nfurther discoveries.\n\n_Custom_ respects the action, _habit_ the actor. By custom we mean, a\nfrequent reiteration of the same act; and by habit, the effect that\ncustom has on the mind or body. This effect may be either active,\nwitness the dexterity produced by custom in performing certain\nexercises; or passive, as when, by custom, a peculiar connection is\nformed betwixt a man and some agreeable object, which acquires thereby a\ngreater power to raise emotions in him than it hath naturally. Active\nhabits come not under the present undertaking; and therefore I confine\nmyself to those that are passive.\n\nThis subject is thorny and intricate. Some pleasures are fortified by\ncustom; and yet custom begets familiarity, and consequently\nindifference[24]. In many instances, satiety and disgust are the\nconsequences of reiteration. Again, though custom blunts the edge of\ndistress and of pain; yet the want of any thing to which we have long\nbeen accustomed, is a sort of torture. A clue to guide us through all\nthe intricacies of this labyrinth, would be an acceptable present.\n\nWhatever be the cause, it is an established fact, that we are much\ninfluenced by custom. It hath an effect upon our pleasures, upon our\nactions, and even upon our thoughts and sentiments. Habit makes no\nfigure during the vivacity of youth; in middle age it gains ground; and\nin old age it governs without control. In that period of life, generally\nspeaking, we eat at a certain hour, take exercise at a certain hour, go\nto rest at a certain hour, all by the direction of habit. Nay a\nparticular seat, table, bed, comes to be essential. And a habit in any\nof these, cannot be contradicted without uneasiness.\n\nAny slight or moderate pleasure frequently reiterated for a long time,\nforms a connection betwixt us and the thing that causes the pleasure.\nThis connection, termed _habit_, has the effect to raise our desire or\nappetite for that thing when it returns not as usual. During the course\nof enjoyment, the pleasure grows insensibly stronger till a habit be\nestablished; at which time the pleasure is at its height. It continues\nnot however stationary. The same customary reiteration which carried it\nto its height, brings it down again by insensible degrees, even lower\nthan it was at first. But of this circumstance afterward. What at\npresent we have in view, is to prove by experiments, that those things\nwhich at first are but moderately agreeable, are the aptest to become\nhabitual. Spirituous liquors, at first scarce agreeable, readily produce\nan habitual appetite; and custom prevails so far, as even to make us\nfond of things originally disagreeable, such as coffee, assa-s\u0153tida,\nand tobacco. This is pleasantly illustrated by Congreve:\n\n     _Fainall._ For a passionate lover, methinks you are a man somewhat\n     too discerning in the failings of your mistress.\n\n     _Mirabell._ And for a discerning man, somewhat too passionate a\n     lover; for I like her with all her faults; nay like her for her\n     faults. Her follies are so natural, or so artful, that they become\n     her; and those affectations which in another woman would be odious,\n     serve but to make her more agreeable. I\u2019ll tell thee, Fainall, she\n     once us\u2019d me with that insolence, that in revenge I took her to\n     pieces, sifted her, and separated her failings; I study\u2019d \u2019em, and\n     got \u2019em by rote. The catalogue was so large, that I was not without\n     hopes, one day or other, to hate her heartily: to which end I so\n     us\u2019d myself to think of \u2019em, that at length, contrary to my design\n     and expectation, they gave me every hour less and less disturbance;\n     till in a few days it became habitual to me, to remember \u2019em\n     without being displeased. They are now grown as familiar to me as\n     my own frailties; and in all probability, in a little time longer,\n     I shall like \u2019em as well.\n\n                     _The way of the world, act 1. sc. 3._\n\n\n\nA walk upon the quarterdeck, though intolerably confined, becomes\nhowever so agreeable by custom, that a sailor in his walk on shore,\nconfines himself commonly within the same bounds. I knew a man who had\nrelinquished the sea for a country-life. In the corner of his garden he\nreared an artificial mount with a level summit, resembling most\naccurately a quarterdeck, not only in shape but in size; and this was\nhis choice walk. Play or gaming, at first barely amusing by the\noccupation it affords, becomes in time extremely agreeable; and is\nfrequently prosecuted with avidity, as if it were the chief business of\nlife. The same observation is applicable to the pleasures of the\ninternal senses, those of knowledge and virtue in particular. Children\nhave scarce any sense of these pleasures; and men very little, who are\nin the state of nature without culture. Our taste for virtue and\nknowledge improves slowly; but is capable of growing stronger than any\nother appetite in human nature.\n\nTo introduce a habit, frequency of acts is not alone sufficient: length\nof time is also necessary. The quickest succession of acts in a short\ntime, is not sufficient; nor a slow succession in the longest time. The\neffect must be produced by a moderate soft action, and a long series of\neasy touches removed from each other by short intervals. Nor are these\nsufficient, without regularity in the time, place, and other\ncircumstances of the action. The more uniform any operation is, the\nsooner it becomes habitual; and this holds equally in a passive habit.\nVariety in any remarkable degree, prevents the effect. Thus any\nparticular food will scarce ever become habitual, where the manner of\ndressing is varied. The circumstances then requisite to augment any\npleasure and at the long run to form a habit, are weak uniform acts,\nreiterated during a long course of time without any considerable\ninterruption. Every agreeable cause which operates in this manner, will\ngrow habitual.\n\n_Affection_ and _aversion_, as distinguished from passion on the one\nhand, and on the other from original disposition, are in reality habits\nrespecting particular objects, acquired in the manner above set forth.\nThe pleasure of social intercourse with any person, must originally be\nfaint, and frequently reiterated, in order to establish the habit of\naffection. Affection thus generated, whether it be friendship or love,\nseldom swells into any tumultuous or vigorous passion; but is however\nthe strongest cement that can bind together two individuals of the human\nspecies. In like manner, a slight degree of disgust often reiterated\nwith any degree of regularity, grows into the habit of aversion, which\ngenerally subsists for life.\n\nThose objects of taste that are the most agreeable, are so far from\nhaving a tendency to become habitual, that too great indulgence fails\nnot to produce satiety and disgust. No man contracts a habit of taking\nsugar, honey, or sweet-meats, as he doth of tobacco:\n\n    Dulcia non ferimus: succo renovamur amaro.\n         _Ovid. art. Amand. l. 3._\n\n    Insipido \u00e8 quel dolce, che condito\n    Non \u00e8 di qualche amaro, e tosto satia.\n         _Aminta di Tasso._\n\n    These violent delights have violent ends,\n    And in their triumph die. The sweetest honey\n    Is loathsome in its own deliciousness,\n    And in the taste confounds the appetite;\n    Therefore love mod\u2019rately, long love doth so:\n    Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.\n         _Romeo and Juliet, act 2. sc. 6._\n\nThe same holds in the causes of all violent pleasures: these causes are\nnot naturally susceptible of habit. Great passions suddenly raised are\nincompatible with a habit of any sort. In particular they never produce\naffection or aversion. A man who at first sight falls violently in love,\nhas a strong desire of enjoyment, but no affection for the woman[25]. A\nman who is surprised with an unexpected savour, burns for an\nopportunity to exert his gratitude, without having any affection for his\nbenefactor. Neither does desire of vengeance for an atrocious injury\ninvolve aversion.\n\nIt is perhaps not easy to say why moderate pleasures gather strength by\ncustom. But two causes concur to prevent this effect in the more\nintense pleasures. These, by an original law in our nature, increase\nquickly to their full growth, and decay with no less precipitation[26];\nand custom is too slow in its operation to overcome this law. Another\ncause is not less powerful. The mind is exhausted with pleasure as well\nas with pain. Exquisite pleasure is extremely fatiguing; occasioning, as\na naturalist would say, great expence of animal spirits[27]. And\ntherefore, of such the mind cannot bear so frequent gratification as to\nsuperinduce a habit. If the thing which raises the pleasure return\nbefore the mind have recovered its tone and relish, disgust ensues\ninstead of pleasure.\n\nA habit never fails to admonish us of the wonted time of gratification,\nby raising a pain for want of the object, and a desire to have it. The\npain of want is always first felt; the desire naturally follows; and\nupon presenting the object, both vanish instantaneously. Thus a man\naccustomed to tobacco, feels, at the end of the usual interval, a\nconfused pain of want, which in its first appearance points at nothing\nin particular, though it soon settles upon its accustomed object. The\nsame may be observed in persons addicted to drinking, who are often in\nan uneasy restless state before they think of their bottle. In pleasures\nindulged regularly and at equal intervals, the appetite, remarkably\nobsequious to custom, returns regularly with the usual time of\ngratification; and a sight of the object in the interim, has scarce any\npower to move it. This pain of want arising from habit, seems directly\nopposite to that of satiety. Singular it must appear, that frequency of\ngratification should produce effects so opposite as are the pains of\nexcess and of want.\n\nThe appetites that respect the preservation and propagation of our\nspecies, are attended with a pain of want similar to that occasioned by\nhabit. Hunger and thirst are uneasy sensations of want, which always\nprecede the desire of eating or drinking: and a pain for want of carnal\nenjoyment precedes the desire of a proper object. The pain being thus\nfelt independent of an object, cannot be cured but by gratification. An\nordinary passion, in which desire precedes the pain of want, is in a\ndifferent condition. It is never felt but while the object is in view;\nand therefore by removing the object out of thought, it vanisheth with\nits desire and pain of want[28].\n\nThese natural appetites above mentioned, differ from habit in the\nfollowing particular, They have an undetermined direction toward all\nobjects of gratification in general; whereas an habitual appetite is\ndirected upon a particular object. The attachment we have by habit to a\nparticular woman, differs widely from the natural passion which\ncomprehends the whole sex; and the habitual relish for a particular\ndish, is far from being the same with a vague appetite for food.\nNotwithstanding this difference, it is still remarkable, that nature\nhath inforced the gratification of certain natural appetites essential\nto the species, by a pain of the same sort with that which habit\nproduceth.\n\nThe pain of habit is less under our power, than any other pain for want\nof gratification. Hunger and thirst are more easily endured, especially\nat first, than an unusual intermission of any habitual pleasure. We\noften hear persons declaring, they would forego sleep or food, rather\nthan snuff or any other habitual trifle. We must not however conclude,\nthat the gratification of an habitual appetite affords the same delight\nwith the gratification of one that is natural. Far from it: the pain of\nwant only is greater.\n\nThe slow and reiterated acts that produce a habit, strengthen the mind\nto enjoy the habitual pleasure in greater quantity and more frequency\nthan originally; and by this means a habit of intemperate gratification\nis often formed. After unbounded acts of intemperance, the habitual\nrelish is soon restored, and the pain for want of enjoyment returns with\nfresh vigor.\n\nThe causes of the pleasant emotions hitherto in view, are either an\nindividual, such as a companion, a certain dwelling-place, certain\namusements, _&c._; or a particular species, such as coffee, mutton, or\nany particular food. But habit is not confined to these. A constant\ntrain of trifling diversions, may form such a habit in the mind, as that\nit cannot be easy a moment without amusement. Variety in the objects\nprevents a habit as to any one in particular; but as the train is\nuniform with respect to amusement in general, the habit is formed\naccordingly; and this sort of habit may be denominated _a generic\nhabit_, in opposition to the former, which may be called _a specific\nhabit_. A habit of a town-life, of country-sports, of solitude, of\nreading, or of business, where sufficiently varied, are instances of\ngeneric habits. It ought to be remarked, that every specific habit hath\na mixture of the generic. The habit of one particular sort of food,\nmakes the taste agreeable; and we are fond of this taste where-ever\nfound. A man deprived of an habitual object, takes up with what most\nresembles it: deprived of tobacco, any bitter herb will do, rather than\nwant. The habit of drinking punch, makes wine a good resource. A man\naccustomed to the sweet society and comforts of matrimony, being\nunhappily deprived of his beloved object, inclines the sooner to a\nsecond choice. In general, the quality which the most affects us in an\nhabitual object, produceth, when we are deprived of it, a strong\nappetite for that quality in any other object.\n\nThe reasons are assigned above, why the causes of intense pleasure\nbecome not readily habitual. But now I must observe, that these reasons\nconclude only against specific habits. With regard to any particular\nobject that is the cause of a weak pleasure, a habit is formed by\nfrequency and uniformity of reiteration, which in the case of an intense\npleasure cannot obtain without satiety and disgust. But it is\nremarkable, that satiety and disgust have no effect, except as to that\nthing which occasions them. A surfeit of honey produceth not a loathing\nof sugar; and intemperance with one woman, produceth no disrelish of the\nsame pleasure with others. Hence it is easy to account for a generic\nhabit in any strong pleasure. The disgust of intemperance, is confined\nto the object by which it is produced. The delight we had in the\ngratification of the appetite, inflames the imagination, and makes us,\nwith avidity, search for the same gratification in whatever other object\nit can be found. And thus frequency and uniformity in gratifying the\nsame passion upon different objects, produceth at the longrun a habit.\nIn this manner, a man acquires an habitual delight in high and poignant\nsauces, rich dress, fine equipage, crowds of company, and in whatever is\ncommonly termed _pleasure_. There concurs at the same time to introduce\nthis habit, a peculiarity observed above, that reiteration of acts\nenlarges the capacity of the mind, to admit a more plentiful\ngratification than originally, with regard to frequency as well as\nquantity.\n\nHence it appears, that though a specific habit can only take place in\nthe case of a moderate pleasure, yet that a generic habit may be formed\nwith respect to every sort of pleasure, moderate or immoderate, that can\nbe gratified by a variety of objects indifferently. The only difference\nis, that any particular object which causes a weak pleasure, runs\nnaturally into a specific habit; whereas a particular object that causes\nan intense pleasure, is altogether incapable of such a habit. In a word,\nit is but in singular cases that a moderate pleasure produces a generic\nhabit: an intense pleasure, on the other hand, cannot produce any other\nhabit.\n\nThe appetites that respect the preservation and propagation of the\nspecies, are formed into habit in a peculiar manner. The time as well as\nmeasure of their gratification, are much under the power of custom;\nwhich, by introducing a change upon the body, occasions a proportional\nchange in the appetites. Thus, if the body be gradually formed to a\ncertain quantity of food at regular times, the appetite is regulated\naccordingly; and the appetite is again changed when a different habit of\nbody is introduced by a different practice. Here it would seem, that the\nchange is not made upon the mind, which is commonly the case in passive\nhabits, but only upon the body.\n\nWhen rich food is brought down by ingredients of a plainer taste, the\ncomposition is susceptible of a specific habit. Thus the sweet taste of\nsugar, rendered less poignant in a mixture, may, in course of time,\nproduce a specific habit for such mixture. As moderate pleasures, by\nbecoming more intense, tend to generic habits; so intense pleasures, by\nbecoming more moderate, tend to specific habits.\n\nThe beauty of the human figure, by a special recommendation of nature,\nappears to us supreme, amid the great variety of beauteous forms\nbestowed upon animals. The various degrees in which individuals enjoy\nthis property, render it an object sometimes of a moderate sometimes of\nan intense passion. The moderate passion, admitting frequent reiteration\nwithout diminution, and occupying the mind without exhausting it,\nbecomes gradually stronger till it settle in a habit. So true this is,\nthat instances are not wanting, of an ugly face, at first disagreeable,\nafterward rendered indifferent by familiarity, and at the longrun\nagreeable. On the other hand, consummate beauty, at the very first view,\nfills the mind so as to admit no increase. Enjoyment in this case\nlessens the pleasure[29]; and if often repeated, ends commonly in\nsatiety and disgust. Constant experience shows, that the emotions\ncreated by great beauty become weaker by familiarity. The impressions\nmade successively by such an object, strong at first and lessening by\ndegrees, constitute a series opposite to that of the weak and increasing\nemotions, which grow into a specific habit. But the mind, when\naccustomed to beauty, contracts a relish for it in general, though often\nrepelled from particular objects by the pain of satiety. Thus a generic\nhabit is formed, of which inconstancy in love is the necessary\nconsequence. For a generic habit, comprehending every beautiful object,\nis an invincible obstruction to a specific habit, which is confined to\none.\n\nBut a matter which is of great importance to the youth of both sexes,\ndeserves more than a cursory view. Though the pleasant emotion of beauty\ndiffers widely from the corporeal appetite, yet both may concur upon\nthe same object. When this is the case, they inflame the imagination;\nand produce a very strong complex passion[30], which is incapable of\nincrease, because the mind as to pleasure is limited rather more than as\nto pain. Enjoyment in this case must be exquisite, and therefore more\napt to produce satiety than in any other case whatever. This is a\nnever-failing effect, where consummate beauty on the one side, meets\nwith a warm imagination and great sensibility on the other. What I am\nhere explaining, is the naked truth without exaggeration. They must be\ninsensible upon whom this doctrine makes no impression; and it deserves\nwell to be pondered by the young and the amorous, who in forming a\nsociety which is not dissolvable, are too often blindly impelled by the\nanimal pleasure merely, inflamed by beauty. It may indeed happen after\nthis pleasure is gone, and go it must with a swift pace, that a new\nconnection is formed upon more dignified and more lasting principles.\nBut this is a dangerous experiment. For even supposing good sense, good\ntemper, and internal merit of every sort, which is a very favourable\nsupposition, yet a new connection upon these qualifications is rarely\nformed. It generally or rather always happens, that such qualifications,\nthe only solid foundation of an indissoluble connection, are rendered\naltogether invisible by satiety of enjoyment creating disgust.\n\nOne effect of custom, different from any that have been explained, must\nnot be omitted, because it makes a great figure in human nature. Custom\naugments moderate pleasures, and diminishes those that are intense. It\nhas a different effect with respect to pain; for it blunts the edge of\nevery sort of pain and distress great and small. Uninterrupted misery\ntherefore is attended with one good effect. If its torments be\nincessant, custom hardens us to bear them.\n\nIt is extremely curious, to remark the gradual changes that are made in\nforming habits. Moderate pleasures are augmented gradually by\nreiteration till they become habitual; and then are at their height.\nBut they are not long stationary; for from that point they gradually\ndecay till they vanish altogether. The pain occasioned by the want of\ngratification, runs a very different course. This pain increases\nuniformly; and at last becomes extreme, when the pleasure of\ngratification is reduced to nothing.\n\n        ---- It so falls out\n    That what we have we prize not to the worth,\n    Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack\u2019d and lost,\n    Why then we rack the value; then we find\n    The virtue that possession would not shew us\n    Whilst it was ours.\n         _Much ado about nothing, act 4. sc. 2._\n\nThe effect of custom with relation to a specific habit, is displayed\nthrough all its varieties in the use of tobacco. The taste of this plant\nis at first extremely unpleasant. Our disgust lessens gradually till it\nvanish altogether; at which period the plant is neither agreeable nor\ndisagreeable. Continuing the use, we begin to relish it; and our relish\nincreases by use till it come to its utmost extent. From this state it\ngradually decays, while the habit becomes stronger and stronger, and\nconsequently the pain of want. The result is, that when the habit has\nacquired its greatest vigor, the pleasure of gratification is gone. And\nhence it is, that we often smoke and take snuff habitually, without so\nmuch as being conscious of the operation. We must except gratification\nafter the pain of want; because gratification in that case is at the\nheight when the habit is strongest. It is of the same kind with the joy\none feels upon being delivered from the rack, the cause of which is\nexplained above[31]. This pleasure however is but occasionally the\neffect of habit; and however exquisite, is guarded against as much as\npossible, by preventing want.\n\nWith regard to the pain of want, I can discover no difference betwixt a\ngeneric and specific habit: the pain is the same in both. But these\nhabits differ widely with respect to the positive pleasure. I have had\noccasion to observe, that the pleasure of a specific habit decays\ngradually till it become imperceptible. Not so the pleasure of a\ngeneric habit. So far as I can discover, this pleasure suffers little\nor no decay after it comes to its height. The variety of gratification\npreserves it entire. However it may be with other generic habits, the\nobservation I am certain holds with respect to the pleasures of virtue\nand of knowledge. The pleasure of doing good has such an unbounded\nscope, and may be so variously gratified, that it can never decay.\nScience is equally unbounded; and our appetite for knowledge has an\nample range of gratification, where discoveries are recommended by\nnovelty, by variety, by utility, or by all of them.\n\nHere is a large field of facts and experiments, and several phenomena\nunfolded, the causes of which have been occasionally suggested. The\nefficient cause of the power of custom over man, a fundamental point in\nthe present chapter, has unhappily evaded my keenest search; and now I\nam reduced to hold it an original branch of the human constitution,\nthough I have no better reason for my opinion, than that I cannot\nresolve it into any other principle. But with respect to the final\ncause, a point of still greater importance, I promise myself more\nsuccess. It cannot indeed have escaped any thinking person, that the\npower of custom is a happy contrivance for our good. Exquisite pleasure\nproduceth satiety: moderate pleasure becomes stronger by custom.\nBusiness is our province, and pleasure our relaxation only. Hence,\nsatiety is necessary to check exquisite pleasures, which otherwise would\ningross the mind, and unqualify us for business. On the other hand,\nhabitual increase of moderate pleasure, and even conversion of pain into\npleasure, are admirably contrived for disappointing the malice of\nFortune, and for reconciling us to whatever course of life may be our\nlot:\n\n    How use doth breed a habit in a man!\n    This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,\n    I better brook than flourishing peopled towns.\n    Here I can sit alone, unseen of any,\n    And to the nightingale\u2019s complaining notes\n    Tune my distresses, and record my woes.\n         _Two Gentlemen of Verona, act 5. sc. 4._\n\nThe foregoing distinction betwixt intense and moderate, holds in\npleasure only, not in pain, every degree of which is softened by time\nand custom. Custom is a catholicon for pain and distress of every sort;\nand of this regulation the final cause is so evident as to require no\nillustration.\n\nAnother final cause of custom will be highly relished by every person of\nhumanity; and yet has in a great measure been overlooked. Custom hath a\ngreater influence than any other known principle, to put the rich and\npoor upon a level. Weak pleasures, which fall to the share of the\nlatter, become fortunately stronger by custom; while voluptuous\npleasures, the lot of the former, are continually losing ground by\nsatiety. Men of fortune, who possess palaces, sumptuous gardens, rich\nfields, enjoy them less than passengers do. The goods of Fortune are not\nunequally distributed: the opulent possess what others enjoy.\n\nAnd indeed, if it be the effect of habit to produce the pain of want in\na high degree while there is little pleasure in enjoyment, a voluptuous\nlife is of all the least to be envied. Those who are accustomed to high\nfeeding, easy vehicles, rich furniture, a crowd of valets, much\ndeference and flattery, enjoy but a small share of happiness, while they\nare exposed to manifold distresses. To such a man, inslaved by ease and\nluxury, even the petty inconveniencies of a rough road, bad weather, or\nhomely fare on a journey, are serious evils. He loses his tone of mind,\nbecomes peevish, and would wreak his resentment even upon the common\naccidents of life. Better far to use the goods of Fortune with\nmoderation. A man who by temperance and activity has acquired a hardy\nconstitution, is, on the one hand, guarded against external accidents,\nand is, on the other, provided with great variety of enjoyment ever at\ncommand.\n\nI shall close this chapter with the discussion of a question more\ndelicate than abstruse, _viz._ What authority custom ought to have over\nour taste in the fine arts? It is proper to be premised, that we\nchearfully abandon to its authority every thing that nature leaves to\nour choice, and where the preference we bestow has no foundation other\nthan whim or fancy. There appears no original difference betwixt the\nright and the left hand: custom however has established a difference, so\nas to make it aukward and disagreeable to use the left where the right\nis commonly used. The various colours, though they affect us\ndifferently, are all of them agreeable in their purity. But custom has\nregulated this matter in another manner: a black skin upon a human\ncreature, is to us disagreeable; and a white skin probably not less so\nto a negro. Thus things originally indifferent, become agreeable or\ndisagreeable by the force of custom. Nor ought this to be surprising\nafter the discovery made above, that the original agreeableness or\ndisagreeableness of an object, is, by the influence of custom, often\nconverted into the opposite quality.\n\nConcerning now those matters of taste where there is naturally a\npreference of one thing before another; it is certain, in the first\nplace, that our faint and more delicate feelings are readily susceptible\nof a bias from custom; and therefore that it is no proof of a defective\ntaste, to find these in some measure under the government of custom.\nDress, and the modes of external behaviour, are justly regulated by\ncustom in every country. The deep red or vermilion with which the ladies\nin France cover their cheeks, appears to them beautiful in spite of\nnature; and strangers cannot altogether be justified in condemning this\npractice, considering the lawful authority of custom, or of the\n_fashion_, as it is called. It is told of the people who inhabit the\nskirts of the Alps facing the north, that the swelling they universally\nhave in the neck is to them agreeable. So far has custom power to change\nthe nature of things, and to make an object originally disagreeable take\non an opposite appearance.\n\nBut as to the emotions of propriety and impropriety, and in general as\nto all emotions involving the sense of right or wrong, custom has little\nauthority, and ought to have none at all. Emotions of this kind, being\nqualified with the consciousness of duty, take naturally place of every\nother feeling; and it argues a shameful weakness or degeneracy of mind,\nto find them in any case so far subdued as to submit to custom.\n\nThese few hints may enable us to judge in some measure of foreign\nmanners, whether exhibited by foreign writers or our own. A comparison\nbetwixt the ancients and the moderns, was some time ago a favourite\nsubject. Those who declared for the former, thought it a sufficient\njustification of ancient manners, that they were supported by the\nauthority of custom. Their antagonists, on the other hand, refusing\nsubmission to custom as a standard of taste, condemned ancient manners\nin several instances as irrational. In this controversy, an appeal being\nmade to different principles, without the slightest attempt on either\nside to establish a common standard, the dispute could have no end. The\nhints above given tend to establish a standard, for judging how far the\nlawful authority of custom may be extended, and within what limits it\nought to be confined. For the sake of illustration, we shall apply this\nstandard in a few instances.\n\nHuman sacrifices, the cruellest effect of blind and groveling\nsuperstition, wore gradually out of use by the prevalence of reason and\nhumanity. In the days of Sophocles and Euripides, the traces of this\nsavage practice were still recent; and the Athenians, through the\nprevalence of custom, could without disgust suffer human sacrifices to\nbe represented in their theatre. The Iphigenia of Euripides is a proof\nof this fact. But a human sacrifice, being altogether inconsistent with\nmodern manners, as producing horror instead of pity, cannot with any\npropriety be introduced upon a modern stage. I must therefore condemn\nthe Iphigenia of Racine, which, instead of the tender and sympathetic\npassions, substitutes disgust and horror. But this is not all. Another\nobjection occurs against every fable that deviates so remarkably from\nimproved notions and sentiments. If it should even command our belief,\nby the authority of genuine history, its fictitious and unnatural\nappearance, however, would prevent its taking such hold of the mind as\nto produce a perception of reality[32]. A human sacrifice is so\nunnatural, and to us so improbable, that few will be affected with the\nrepresentation of it more than with a fairy tale. The objection first\nmentioned strikes also against the _Phedra_ of this author. The queen\u2019s\npassion for her stepson, being unnatural and beyond all bounds, creates\naversion and horror rather than compassion. The author in his preface\nobserves, that the queen\u2019s passion, however unnatural, was the effect of\ndestiny and the wrath of the gods; and he puts the same excuse in her\nown mouth. But what is the wrath of a heathen god to us Christians? We\nacknowledge no destiny in passion; and if love be unnatural, it never\ncan be relished. A supposition, like what our author lays hold of, may\npossibly cover slight improprieties; but it will never engage our\nsympathy for what appears to us frantic or extravagant.\n\nNeither can I relish the catastrophe of this tragedy. A man of taste may\nperuse, without disgust, a Grecian performance describing a sea-monster\nsent by Neptune to destroy Hippolytus. He considers, that such a story\nmight agree with the religious creed of Greece; and, entering into\nancient opinions, may be pleased with the story, as what probably had a\nstrong effect upon a Grecian audience. But he cannot have the same\nindulgence for such a representation upon a modern stage; for no story\nwhich carries a violent air of fiction, can ever move us in any\nconsiderable degree.\n\nIn the _Co\u00ebphores_ of Eschylus[33], Orestes is made to say, that he was\ncommanded by Apollo to avenge his father\u2019s murder; and yet if he obeyed,\nthat he was to be delivered to the furies, or be struck with some\nhorrible malady. The tragedy accordingly concludes with a chorus,\ndeploring the fate of Orestes, obliged to take vengeance against a\nmother, and involved thereby in a crime against his will. It is\nimpossible for any man at present to accommodate his mind to opinions so\nirrational and absurd, which must disgust him in perusing even a Grecian\nstory. Among the Greeks again, grossly superstitious, it was a common\nopinion, that the report of a man\u2019s death was a presage of his death;\nand Orestes, in the first act of _Electra_, spreading a report of his\nown death in order to blind his mother and her adulterer, is even in\nthis case affected with the presage. Such imbecility can never find\ngrace with a modern audience. It may indeed produce some degree of\ncompassion for a people afflicted to such a degree with absurd terrors,\nsimilar to what is felt in perusing a description of the Hottentotes:\nbut manners of this kind will not interest our affections, nor excite\nany degree of social concern.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XV.\n\nExternal Signs of Emotions and Passions.\n\n\nSo intimately connected are the soul and body, that there is not a\nsingle agitation in the former, but what produceth a visible effect upon\nthe latter. There is, at the same time, a wonderful uniformity in this\noperation; each class of emotions being invariably attended with an\nexternal appearance peculiar to itself[34]. These external appearances\nor signs, may not improperly be considered as a natural language,\nexpressing to all beholders the several emotions and passions as they\narise in the heart. We perceive display\u2019d externally, hope, fear, joy,\ngrief: we can read the character of a man in his face; and beauty,\nwhich makes so strong an impression, is known to result, not so much\nfrom regular features and a fine complexion, as from good nature, good\nsense, sprightliness, sweetness, or other mental quality, expressed some\nway upon the countenance. Though perfect skill in this language be rare,\nyet so much knowledge of it is diffused through mankind, as to be\nsufficient for the ordinary events of life. But by what means we come to\nunderstand this language, is a point of some intricacy. It cannot be by\nsight merely; for upon the most attentive inspection of the human\nvisage, all that can be discerned are figure, colour, and motion; and\nyet these, singly or combined, never can represent a passion or a\nsentiment. The external sign is indeed visible. But to understand its\nmeaning, we must be able to connect it with the passion that causes it;\nan operation far beyond the reach of eye-sight. Where then is the\ninstructor to be found, that can unvail this secret connection? If we\napply to experience, it is yielded, that from long and diligent\nobservation, we may gather in some measure in what manner those we are\nacquainted with express their passions externally. But with respect to\nstrangers, of whom we have no experience, we are left in the dark. And\nyet we are not puzzled about the meaning of these external expressions\nin a stranger, more than in a bosom-companion[35]. Further, had we no\nother means but experience for understanding the external signs of\npassion, we could not expect any uniformity or any degree of skill in\nthe bulk of individuals. But matters are ordered so differently, that\nthe external expressions of passion form a language understood by all,\nby the young as well as the old, by the ignorant as well as the learned.\nI talk of the plain and legible characters of this language; for\nundoubtedly we are much indebted to experience in deciphering the dark\nand more delicate expressions. Where then shall we apply for a solution\nof this intricate problem, which seems to penetrate deep into human\nnature? In my mind it will be convenient to suspend the inquiry, till\nwe be better acquainted with the nature of external signs and with their\noperations. These articles therefore shall be premised.\n\nThe external signs of passion are of two kinds, voluntary and\ninvoluntary. The voluntary signs are also of two kinds: some are\narbitrary and some natural. Words are arbitrary signs, excepting a few\nsimple sounds expressive of certain internal emotions; and these sounds,\nbeing the same in all languages, must be the work of nature. But though\nwords are arbitrary, the manner of employing them is not altogether so;\nfor each passion has by nature peculiar expressions and tones suited to\nit. Thus the unpremeditated tones of admiration, are the same in all\nmen; as also of compassion, resentment, and despair. Dramatic writers\nought to be well acquainted with this natural manner of expressing\npassion. The chief talent of a fine writer, is a ready command of the\nexpressions that nature dictates to every man when any vivid emotion\nstruggles for utterance; and the chief talent of a fine reader, is a\nready command of the tones suited to these expressions.\n\nThe other kind of voluntary signs, comprehends certain attitudes and\ngestures that naturally accompany certain emotions with a surprising\nuniformity. Thus excessive joy is expressed by leaping, dancing, or some\nelevation of the body; and excessive grief by sinking or depressing it.\nThus prostration and kneeling have been employ\u2019d by all nations and in\nall ages to signify profound veneration. Another circumstance, still\nmore than uniformity, demonstrates these gestures to be natural, _viz._\ntheir remarkable conformity or resemblance to the passions that produce\nthem[36]. Joy, which produceth a chearful elevation of mind, is\nexpressed by an elevation of body. Pride, magnanimity, courage, and the\nwhole tribe of elevating passions, are expressed by external gestures\nthat are the same as to the circumstance of elevation, however\ndistinguishable in other respects. Hence it comes, that an erect posture\nis a sign or expression of dignity:\n\n    Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,\n    Godlike erect, with native honour clad,\n    In naked majesty, seem\u2019d lords of all.\n         _Paradise Lost, book 4._\n\nGrief, on the other hand, as well as respect, which depress the mind,\ncannot for that reason be expressed more significantly than by a similar\ndepression of the body. Hence, _to be cast down_, is a common phrase,\nsignifying to be grieved or dispirited.\n\nOne would not imagine, who has not given peculiar attention, that the\nbody is susceptible of such a variety of attitude and motion, as readily\nto accompany every different emotion with a corresponding gesture.\nHumility, for example, is expressed naturally by hanging the head;\narrogance, by its elevation; and langour or despondence, by reclining it\nto one side. The expressions of the hands are manifold. By different\nattitudes and motions, the hands express desire, hope, fear: they assist\nus in promising, in inviting, in keeping one at a distance: they are\nmade instruments of threatening, of supplication, of praise, and of\nhorror: they are employ\u2019d in approving, in refusing, in questioning; in\nshowing our joy, our sorrow, our doubts, our regret, our admiration.\nThese gestures, so obedient to passion, are extremely difficult to be\nimitated in a calm state. The ancients, sensible of the advantage as\nwell as difficulty of having these expressions at command, bestowed much\ntime and care, in collecting them from observation, and in digesting\nthem into a practical art, which was taught in their schools as an\nimportant branch of education.\n\nThe foregoing signs, though in a strict sense voluntary, cannot however\nbe restrained but with the utmost difficulty when they are prompted by\npassion. Of this we scarce need a stronger proof, than the gestures of a\nkeen player at bowls. Observe only how he wreaths his body, in order to\nrestore a stray bowl to the right track. It is one article of good\nbreeding, to suppress, as much as possible, these external signs of\npassion, that we may not in company appear too warm or too interested.\nThe same observation holds in speech. A passion, it is true, when in\nextreme, is silent[37]; but when less violent, it must be vented in\nwords, which have a peculiar force, not to be equalled in a sedate\ncomposition. The ease and trust we have in a confident, encourages us no\ndoubt to talk of ourselves and of our feelings. But the cause is more\ngeneral; for it operates when we are alone as well as in company.\nPassion is the cause; for in many instances it is no slight\ngratification to vent a passion externally by words as well as by\ngestures. Some passions, when at a certain height, impel us so strongly\nto vent them in words, that we speak with an audible voice even where\nthere is none to listen. It is this circumstance in passion, that\njustifies soliloquies; and it is this circumstance that proves them to\nbe natural[38]. The mind sometimes favours this impulse of passion, by\nbestowing a temporary sensibility upon any object at hand, in order to\nmake it a confident. Thus in the _Winter\u2019s Tale_[39], Antigonus\naddresses himself to an infant whom he was ordered to expose:\n\n    Come, poor babe,\n    I have heard, but not believ\u2019d, the spirits of the dead\n    May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother\n    Appear\u2019d to me last night; for ne\u2019er was dream\n    So like a waking.\n\nThe involuntary signs, which are all of them natural, are either\npeculiar to one passion or common to many. Every violent passion hath an\nexternal expression peculiar to itself, not excepting pleasant passions:\nwitness admiration and mirth. The pleasant emotions that are less vivid,\nhave one common expression; from which we may gather the strength of the\nemotion, but scarce the kind: we perceive a chearful or contented look;\nand we can make no more of it. Painful passions, being all of them\nviolent, are distinguishable from each other by their external\nexpressions. Thus fear, shame, anger, anxiety, dejection, despair, have\neach of them peculiar expressions; which are apprehended without the\nleast confusion. Some of these passions produce violent effects upon the\nbody, such as trembling, starting, and swooning. But these effects,\ndepending in a good measure upon singularity of constitution, are not\nuniform in all men.\n\nThe involuntary signs, such of them as are display\u2019d upon the\ncountenance, are of two kinds. Some make their appearance occasionally\nwith the emotions that produce them, and vanish with the emotions:\nothers are formed gradually by some violent passion often recurring;\nand, becoming permanent signs of this prevailing passion, serve to\ndenote the disposition or temper. The face of an infant indicates no\nparticular disposition, because it cannot be marked with any character\nto which time is necessary. And even the temporary signs are extremely\naukward, being the first rude essays of Nature to discover internal\nfeelings. Thus the shrieking of a new-born infant, without tears or\nsobbings, is plainly an attempt to weep. Some of the temporary signs, as\nsmiling and frowning, cannot be observed for some months after birth.\nThe permanent signs, formed in youth while the body is soft and\nflexible, are preserved entire by the firmness and solidity which the\nbody acquires; and are never obliterated even by a change of temper.\nPermanent signs are not produced after a certain age when the fibres\nbecome rigid; some violent cases excepted, such as reiterated fits of\nthe gout or stone through a course of time. But these signs are not so\nobstinate as what are produced in youth; for when the cause is removed,\nthey gradually wear away, and at last vanish.\n\nThe natural signs of emotions, voluntary and involuntary, being nearly\nthe same in all men, form an universal language, which no distance of\nplace, no difference of tribe, no diversity of tongue, can darken or\nrender doubtful. Education, though of mighty influence, hath not power\nto vary or sophisticate, far less to destroy, their signification. This\nis a wise appointment of Providence. For if these signs were, like\nwords, arbitrary and variable, it would be an intricate science to\ndecipher the actions and motives of our own species, which would prove a\ngreat or rather invincible obstruction to the formation of societies.\nBut as matters are ordered, the external appearances of joy, grief,\nanger, fear, shame, and of the other passions, forming an universal\nlanguage, open a direct avenue to the heart. As the arbitrary signs vary\nin every country, there could be no communication of thoughts among\ndifferent nations, were it not for the natural signs in which all\nagree. Words are sufficient for the communication of science, and of all\nmental conceptions: but the discovering passions instantly as they\narise, being essential to our well-being and often necessary for\nself-preservation, the author of our nature, attentive to our wants,\nhath provided a passage to the heart, which never can be obstructed\nwhile our external senses remain entire.\n\nIn an inquiry concerning the external signs of passion, actions ought\nnot altogether to be overlooked: for though singly they afford no clear\nlight, they are upon the whole the best interpreters of the heart[40].\nBy observing a man\u2019s conduct for a course of time, we discover\nunerringly the various passions that move him to action, what he loves\nand what he hates. In our younger years, every single action is a mark\nnot at all ambiguous of the temper; for in childhood there is little or\nno disguise. The subject becomes more intricate in advanced age; but\neven there, dissimulation is seldom carried on for any length of time.\nAnd thus the conduct of life is the most perfect expression of the\ninternal disposition. It merits not indeed the title of an universal\nlanguage; because it is not thoroughly understood but by those who\neither have a penetrating genius or extensive observation. It is a\nlanguage, however, which every one can decipher in some measure; and\nwhich, joined with the other external signs, affords sufficient means\nfor the direction of our conduct with regard to others. If we commit any\nmistake when such light is afforded, it never can be the effect of\nunavoidable ignorance, but of rashness or inadvertence.\n\nIn reflecting upon the various expressions of our emotions, voluntary\nand involuntary, we must recognise the anxious care of Nature to\ndiscover men to each other. Strong emotions, as above hinted, beget an\nimpatience to express them externally by speech and other voluntary\nsigns, which cannot be suppressed without a painful effort. Thus a\nsudden fit of passion is a common excuse for indecent behaviour or harsh\nwords. As to the involuntary signs, these are altogether unavoidable. No\nvolition or effort can prevent the shaking of the limbs or a pale\nvisage, when one is agitated with a violent fit of terror. The blood\nflies to the face upon a sudden emotion of shame, in spite of all\nopposition:\n\n    Vergogna, che\u2019n altrui stampo natura,\n    Non si puo\u2019 rinegar: che se tu\u2019 tenti\n    Di cacciarla dal cor, fugge nel volto.\n         _Pastor Fido, act 2. sc. 5._\n\nEmotions indeed properly so called, which are quiescent, produce no\nremarkable signs externally; nor is it necessary that the more\ndeliberate passions should, because the operation of such passions is\nneither sudden nor violent. These however remain not altogether in the\ndark. Being more frequent than violent passion, the bulk of our actions\nare directed by them. Actions therefore display, with sufficient\nevidence, the more deliberate passions, and complete the admirable\nsystem of external signs, by which we become skilful in human nature.\n\nNext in order comes an article of great importance, which is, to examine\nthe effects produced upon a spectator by external signs of passion. None\nof these signs are beheld with indifference: they are productive of\nvarious emotions tending all of them to ends wise and good. This curious\narticle makes a capital branch of human nature. It is peculiarly useful\nto writers who deal in the pathetic; and with respect to\nhistory-painters, it is altogether indispensable.\n\nWhen we enter upon this article, we gather from experience, that each\npassion, or class of passions, hath its peculiar signs; and that these\ninvariably make certain impressions on a spectator. The external signs\nof joy, for example, produce a chearful emotion, the external signs of\ngrief produce pity, and the external signs of rage produce a sort of\nterror even in those who are not aimed at.\n\nSecondly, it is natural to think, that pleasant passions should express\nthemselves externally by signs that appear agreeable, and painful\npassions by signs that appear disagreeable. This conjecture, which\nNature suggests, is confirmed by experience. Pride seems to be an\nexception; its external signs being disagreeable, though it be commonly\nreckoned a pleasant passion. But pride is not an exception; for in\nreality it is a mixed passion, partly pleasant partly painful. When a\nproud man confines his thoughts to himself, and to his own dignity or\nimportance, the passion is pleasant, and its external signs agreeable:\nbut as pride chiefly consists in undervaluing or contemning others, it\nis so far painful, and its external signs disagreeable.\n\nThirdly, it is laid down above, that an agreeable object produceth\nalways a pleasant emotion, and a disagreeable object one that is\npainful[41]. According to this law, the external signs of a pleasant\npassion, being agreeable, must produce in the spectator a pleasant\nemotion; and the external signs of a painful passion, being\ndisagreeable, must produce in him a painful emotion.\n\nFourthly, in the present chapter it is observed, that pleasant passions\nare, for the most part, expressed externally in one uniform manner; and\nthat only the painful passions are distinguishable from each other by\ntheir external expressions. In the emotions accordingly raised by\nexternal signs of pleasant passions, there is little variety. They are\npleasant or chearful, and we have not words to reach a more particular\ndescription. But the external signs of painful passions produce in the\nspectator emotions of different kinds: the emotions, for example, raised\nby external signs of grief, of remorse, of anger, of envy, of malice,\nare clearly distinguishable from each other.\n\nFifthly, emotions raised by the external signs of painful passions, are\nsome of them _attractive_, some _repulsive_. Every painful passion that\nis also disagreeable[42], raises by its external signs a repulsive\nemotion, repelling the spectator from the object. Thus the emotions\nraised by external signs of envy and rage, are repulsive. But this is\nnot the case of painful passions that are agreeable. Their external\nsigns, it is true, are disagreeable, and raise in the spectator a\npainful emotion. But this painful emotion is not repulsive. On the\ncontrary, it is attractive; and produceth in the spectator good-will to\nthe man who is moved by the passion, and a desire to relieve or comfort\nhim. This cannot be better exemplified than by distress painted on the\ncountenance, which instantaneously inspires the spectator with pity, and\nimpels him to afford relief. The cause of this difference among the\npainful emotions raised by external signs of passion, may be readily\ngathered from what is laid down chapter Emotions and passions, part 7.\n\nIt is now time to look back to the question proposed in the beginning,\nHow we come to understand external signs, so as readily to ascribe each\nsign to its proper passion? We have seen that this branch of knowledge,\ncannot be derived originally from sight, nor from experience. Is it then\nimplanted in us by nature? The following considerations will help us to\nanswer this question in the affirmative. In the first place, the\nexternal signs of passion must be natural; for they are invariably the\nsame in every country, and among the different tribes of men. Pride, for\nexample, is always expressed by an erect posture, reverence by\nprostration, and sorrow by a dejected look. Secondly, we are not even\nindebted to experience for the knowledge that these expressions are\nnatural and universal. We are so framed as to have an innate conviction\nof the fact. Let a man change his habitation to the other side of the\nglobe; he will, from the accustomed signs, infer the passion of fear\namong his new neighbours, with as little hesitation as he did at home.\nAnd upon second thoughts, the question may be answered without any\npreliminaries. If the branch of knowledge we have been inquiring about\nbe not derived from sight nor from experience, there is no remaining\nsource from whence it can be derived but from nature.\n\nWe may then venture to pronounce, with some degree of confidence, that\nman is provided by nature with a sense or faculty which lays open to him\nevery passion by means of its external expressions. And I imagine that\nwe cannot entertain any reasonable doubt of this fact, when we reflect,\nthat even infants are not ignorant of the meaning of external signs. An\ninfant is remarkably affected with the passions of its nurse expressed\non her countenance: a smile chears it, and a frown makes it afraid. Fear\nthus generated in the infant, must, like every other passion, have an\nobject. What is the object of this passion? Surely not the frown\nconsidered abstractly, for a child never abstracts. The nurse who frowns\nis evidently the object. Fear, at the same time, cannot arise but from\napprehending danger. But what danger can a child apprehend, if it be not\nsensible that the person who frowns is angry? We must therefore admit,\nthat a child can read anger in its nurse\u2019s face; and it must be\nsensible of this intuitively, for it has no other means of knowledge. I\nhave no occasion to affirm, that these particulars are clearly\napprehended by the child. To produce clear and distinct perceptions,\nreflection and experience are requisite. But that even an infant, when\nafraid, must have some notion of its being in danger, is extremely\nevident.\n\nThat we should be conscious intuitively of a passion from its external\nexpressions, is conformable to the analogy of nature. The knowledge of\nthis language is of too great importance to be left upon experience. To\nrest it upon a foundation so uncertain and precarious, would prove a\ngreat obstacle to the formation of societies. Wisely therefore is it\nordered, and agreeably to the system of Providence, that we should have\nNature for our instructor.\n\nManifold and admirable are the purposes to which the external signs of\npassion are made subservient by the author of our nature. What are\noccasionally mentioned above, make but a part. Several final causes\nremain to be unfolded; and to this task I apply myself with alacrity. In\nthe first place, the signs of internal agitation that are displayed\nexternally to every spectator, tend to fix the signification of many\nterms. The only effectual means to ascertain the meaning of any doubtful\nword, is an appeal to the thing it represents. Hence the ambiguity of\nwords expressive of things that are not objects of external sense; for\nin that case an appeal is denied. Passion, strictly speaking, is not an\nobject of external sense: but its external signs are; and by means of\nthese signs, passions may be appealed to, with tolerable accuracy. Thus\nthe words that denote our passions, next to those that denote external\nobjects, have the most distinct meaning. Words signifying internal\naction and the more delicate feelings, are less distinct. This defect\nwith respect to internal action, is what chiefly occasions the intricacy\nof logic. The terms of that science are far from being sufficiently\nascertained, even after the care and labour bestowed by an eminent\nwriter[43]: to whom however the world is greatly indebted, for removing\na mountain of rubbish, and moulding the subject into a rational and\ncorrect form. The same defect is remarkable in criticism, which has for\nits object the more delicate feelings. The terms that denote these\nfeelings, are not more distinct than those of logic. To reduce this\nscience of criticism to any regular form, has never once been attempted.\nHowever rich the ore may be, no critical chymist has been found to give\nus a regular analysis of its constituent parts, and to distinguish each\nby its own name.\n\nIn the second place, society among individuals is greatly promoted by\nthis universal language. The distance and reserve that strangers\nnaturally discover, show its utility. Looks and gestures give direct\naccess to the heart; and lead us to select with tolerable accuracy the\npersons who may be trusted. It is surprising how quickly, and for the\nmost part how correctly, we judge of character from external\nappearances.\n\nThirdly, after social intercourse is commenced, these external signs\ncontribute above all other means to the strictest union, by diffusing\nthrough a whole assembly the feelings of each individual. Language no\ndoubt is the most comprehensive vehicle for communicating emotions: but\nin expedition, as well as in the power of conviction, it falls short of\nthe signs under consideration; the involuntary signs especially, which\nare incapable of deceit. Where the countenance, the tones, the gestures,\nthe actions, join with the words, in communicating emotions, these\nunited have a force irresistible. Thus all the agreeable emotions of the\nhuman heart, with all the social and virtuous affections, are, by means\nof these external signs, not only perceived but felt. By this admirable\ncontrivance, social intercourse becomes that lively and animating\namusement, without which life would at best be insipid. One joyful\ncountenance spreads chearfulness instantaneously through a multitude of\nspectators.\n\nFourthly, dissocial passions being hurtful by prompting violence and\nmischief, are noted by the most conspicuous external signs, in order to\nput us upon our guard. Thus anger and revenge, especially when suddenly\nprovoked, display themselves on the countenance in legible\ncharacters[44]. The external signs again of every passion that threatens\ndanger, raise in us the passion of fear. Nor is this passion occasioned\nby consciousness of danger, though it may be inflamed by such\nconsciousness. It is an instinctive passion, which operating without\nreason or reflection, moves us by a sudden impulse to avoid the\nimpending danger[45].\n\nIn the fifth place, these external signs are made subservient in a\ncurious manner to the cause of virtue. The external signs of a painful\npassion that is virtuous or innocent, and consequently agreeable,\nproduce indeed a painful emotion. But this emotion is attractive, and\nconnects the spectator with the person who suffers. Disagreeable\npassions only, are productive of repulsive emotions involving the\nspectator\u2019s aversion, and frequently his indignation. This artful\ncontrivance makes us cling to the virtuous and abhor the wicked.\n\nSixthly, of all the external signs of passion, those of affliction or\ndistress are the most illustrious with respect to a final cause; and\ndeservedly merit a place of distinction. They are illustrious by the\nsingularity of their contrivance; and they are still more illustrious by\nthe sympathy they inspire, a passion to which human society is indebted\nfor its greatest blessing, that of securing relief in all cases of\ndistress. A subject so interesting, ought to be examined with leisure\nand attention. The conformity of the nature of man to his external\ncircumstances, is in every particular wonderful. His nature makes him\nprone to society; and his situation makes it necessary for him. In a\nsolitary state he is the most helpless of beings; destitute of support,\nand in his manifold distresses destitute of relief. Mutual support, the\nshining attribute of society, being essential to the well-being of man,\nis not left upon reason, but is inforced even instinctively by the\npassion of sympathy. Here sympathy makes a capital figure; and\ncontributes, more than any other means, to make life easy and\ncomfortable. But however essential sympathy be to comfortable existence,\none thinking of it beforehand, would find difficulty in conjecturing how\nit could be raised by external signs of distress. For considering the\nanalogy of nature, if these signs be agreeable, they must give birth to\na pleasant emotion leading every beholder to be pleased with human\nmisfortunes. If they be disagreeable, as they undoubtedly are, ought not\nthe painful emotion they produce to repel the spectator from them, in\norder to be relieved from pain? Such would be the conjecture, in\nthinking of this matter beforehand; and such would be the effect, were\nman purely a selfish being. But the benevolence of our nature gives a\nvery different direction to the painful passion of sympathy, and to the\ndesire involved in it. Far from flying from distress, we fly to it in\norder to afford relief; and our sympathy cannot be otherwise gratified\nthan by giving all the succour in our power[46]. Thus external signs of\ndistress, though disagreeable, are attractive; and the sympathy they\ninspire us with is a powerful cause, impelling us to afford relief even\nto a stranger as if he were our friend or blood-relation.\n\nThis branch of human nature concerning the external signs of passion, is\nso finely adjusted to answer its end, that those who understand it the\nbest will admire it the most. These external signs, being all of them\nresolvable into colour, figure, and motion, should not naturally make\nany deep impression on a spectator. And supposing them qualified for\nmaking deep impressions, we have seen above, that the effects they\nproduce are not what would be expected. We cannot therefore account\notherwise for the operation of these external signs, than by ascribing\nit to the original constitution of human nature. To improve the social\nstate, by making us instinctively rejoice with the glad of heart, weep\nwith the mourner, and shun those who threaten danger, is a contrivance\nillustrious for its wisdom as well as benevolence. With respect to the\nexternal signs of distress in particular, to judge of the excellency of\ntheir contrivance, we need only reflect upon several other means\nseemingly more natural, that would not have answered the end proposed. I\nam attracted by this amusing speculation, and will not ask pardon for\nindulging in it. We shall in the first place reverse the truth, by\nputting the case that the external signs of joy were disagreeable, and\nthe external signs of distress agreeable. This is no whimsical\nsupposition; for these external signs, so far as can be gathered from\ntheir nature, seem indifferent to the production of pleasure or pain.\nAdmitting then the supposition, the question is, How would our sympathy\noperate? There is no occasion to deliberate for an answer. Sympathy,\nupon that supposition, would be not less destructive, than according to\nthe real case it is beneficial. We should be incited, to cross the\nhappiness of others if its external signs were disagreeable to us, and\nto augment their distress if its external signs were agreeable. I make a\nsecond supposition, That the external signs of distress were indifferent\nto us, and productive neither of pleasure nor pain. This would\nannihilate the strongest branch of sympathy, that which is raised by\nmeans of sight. And it is evident, that reflective sympathy, felt by\nthose only who have more than an ordinary share of sensibility, would be\nfar from being sufficient to fulfil the ends of the social state. I\nshall approach nearer truth in a third supposition, That the external\nsigns of distress being disagreeable, were productive of a painful\nrepulsive emotion. Sympathy upon this supposition would not be\nannihilated; but it would be rendered useless. For it would be gratified\nby flying from or avoiding the object, instead of clinging to it, and\naffording relief. The condition of man would in reality be worse than if\nsympathy were totally eradicated; because sympathy would only serve to\nplague those who feel it, without producing any good to the afflicted.\n\nLoath to quit so interesting a subject, I add a reflection, with which I\nshall conclude. The external signs of passion are a strong indication,\nthat man, by his very constitution, is framed to be open and sincere. A\nchild, in all things obedient to the impulses of nature, hides none of\nits emotions: the savage and clown, who have no guide other than pure\nnature, expose their hearts to view by giving way to all the natural\nsigns: and even when men learn to dissemble their sentiments, and when\nbehaviour degenerates into art, there still remain checks, which keep\ndissimulation within bounds, and prevent a great part of its mischievous\neffects. The total suppression of the voluntary signs during any vivid\npassion, begets the utmost uneasiness, which cannot be endured for any\nconsiderable time. This operation becomes indeed less painful by habit:\nbut luckily the involuntary signs, cannot by any effort be suppressed or\neven dissembled. An absolute hypocrisy, by which the character is\nconcealed and a fictitious one assumed, is made impracticable; and\nnature has thereby prevented much harm to society. We may pronounce\ntherefore, that nature, herself sincere and candid, intends that mankind\nshould preserve the same character, by cultivating simplicity and truth,\nand banishing every sort of dissimulation that tends to mischief.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XVI.\n\nSENTIMENTS.\n\n\nEvery thought suggested by a passion or emotion, is termed _a\nsentiment_[47].\n\nThe knowledge of the sentiments peculiar to each passion considered\nabstractly, will not alone enable an artist to make a just\nrepresentation of nature. He ought, over and above, to be acquainted\nwith the various appearances of the same passion in different persons.\nPassions, it is certain, receive a tincture from every peculiarity of\ncharacter; and for that reason, it rarely happens that any two persons\nvent their passions precisely in the same manner. Hence the following\nrule concerning dramatic and epic compositions, That a passion be\nadjusted to the character, the sentiments to the passion, and the\nlanguage to the sentiments. If nature be not faithfully copied in each\nof these, a defect in execution is perceived. There may appear some\nresemblance; but the picture upon the whole will be insipid, through\nwant of grace and delicacy. A painter, in order to represent the various\nattitudes of the body, ought to be intimately acquainted with muscular\nmotion: not less intimately acquainted with emotions and characters\nought a writer to be, in order to represent the various attitudes of the\nmind. A general notion of the passions, in their grosser differences of\nstrong and weak, elevated and humble, severe and gay, is far from being\nsufficient. Pictures formed so superficially, have little resemblance,\nand no expression. And yet it will appear by and by, that in many\ninstances our reputed masters are deficient even in this superficial\nknowledge.\n\nIn handling the present subject, it would be endless to trace even the\nordinary passions through their nicer and more minute differences. Mine\nshall be an humbler task; which is, to select from the best writers\ninstances of faulty sentiments, after paving the way by some general\nobservations.\n\nTo talk in the language of music, each passion hath a certain tone, to\nwhich every sentiment proceeding from it ought to be tuned with the\ngreatest accuracy. This is no easy work, especially where such harmony\nis to be supported during the course of a long theatrical\nrepresentation. In order to reach such delicacy of execution, it is\nnecessary that a writer assume the precise character and passion of the\npersonage represented. This requires an uncommon genius. But it is the\nonly difficulty; for the writer, who, forgetting himself, can thus\npersonate another, so as to feel truly and distinctly the various\nagitations of the passion, need be in no pain about the sentiments:\nthese will flow without the least study, or even preconception; and will\nfrequently be as delightfully new to himself as afterward to his reader.\nBut if a lively picture even of a single emotion require an effort of\ngenius; how much greater must the effort be, to compose a passionate\ndialogue, in which there are as many different tones of passion as there\nare speakers? With what ductility of feeling ought a writer to be\nendued who aims at perfection in such a work; when, to execute it\ncorrectly, it is necessary to assume different and even opposite\ncharacters and passions, in the quickest succession? And yet this work,\ndifficult as it is, yields to that of composing a dialogue in genteel\ncomedy devoid of passion; where the sentiments must be tuned to the\nnicer and more delicate tones of different characters. That the latter\nis the more difficult task, appears from considering, that a character\nis greatly more complex than a passion, and that passions are more\ndistinguishable from each other than characters are. Many writers\naccordingly who have no genius for characters, make a shift to\nrepresent, tolerably well, an ordinary passion in its plain movements.\nBut of all works of this kind, what is truly the most difficult, is a\ncharacteristical dialogue upon any philosophical subject. To interweave\ncharacters with reasoning, by adapting to the peculiar character of each\nspeaker a peculiarity not only of thought but of expression, requires\nthe perfection of genius, taste, and judgement.\n\nHow hard dialogue-writing is, will be evident, even without reasoning,\nfrom the imperfect compositions of this kind found without number in all\nlanguages. The art of mimicking any singularity in voice or gesture, is\na rare talent, though directed by sight and hearing, the acutest and\nmost lively of our external senses: how much more rare must the talent\nbe of imitating characters and internal emotions, tracing all their\ndifferent tints, and representing them in a lively manner by natural\nsentiments properly expressed? The truth is, such execution is too\ndelicate for an ordinary genius; and for that reason, the bulk of\nwriters, instead of expressing a passion like one who is under its\npower, content themselves with describing it like a spectator. To awake\npassion by an internal effort merely, without any external cause,\nrequires great sensibility; and yet this operation is necessary not less\nto the writer than to the actor; because none but they who actually feel\na passion, can represent it to the life. The writer\u2019s part is much more\ncomplicated: he must join composition with action; and, in the quickest\nsuccession, be able to adopt every different character introduced in his\nwork. But a very humble flight of imagination, may serve to convert a\nwriter into a spectator, so as to figure, in some obscure manner, an\naction as passing in his sight and hearing. In this figured situation,\nhe is led naturally to describe as a spectator, and at second hand to\nentertain his readers with his own observations, with cool description\nand florid declamation; instead of making them eye-witnesses, as it\nwere, to a real event, and to every movement of genuine passion[48].\nThus, in the bulk of plays, a tiresome monotony prevails, a pompous\ndeclamatory style, without entering into different characters or\npassions.\n\nThis descriptive manner of expressing passion, has a very unhappy\neffect. Our sympathy is not raised by description: we must be lulled\nfirst into a dream of reality; and every thing must appear as actually\npresent and passing in our sight[49]. Unhappy is the player of genius\nwho acts a capital part in what may be termed a _descriptive tragedy_.\nAfter he has assumed the very passion that is to be represented, how\nmust he be cramped in his action, when he is forced to utter, not the\nsentiments of the passion he feels, but a cold description in the\nlanguage of a by-stander? It is this imperfection, I am persuaded, in\nthe bulk of our plays, that confines our stage almost entirely to\nShakespear, his many irregularities notwithstanding. In our latest\nEnglish tragedies, we sometimes find sentiments tolerably well adapted\nto a plain passion. But it would be fruitless labour, to search in any\nof them for a sentiment expressive of character; and, upon that very\naccount, all our modern performances of the dramatic kind, are\nintolerably insipid.\n\nLooking back upon the foregoing observation, I am uncertain whether it\nwill be sufficiently apprehended; for, upon this complicated subject, I\nfind some difficulty to express myself with perspicuity. I despair not\nhowever to place this matter in the clearest light, by adding example to\nprecept. In the front shall be set one or two examples of sentiments\nthat appear the legitimate offspring of passion; and to them shall be\nopposed a few others that are descriptive only, and illegitimate. In\nmaking this comparison, I shall borrow my instances from Shakespear and\nCorneille, who for genius in dramatic composition stand uppermost in the\nrolls of fame.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nShakespear shall furnish the first instance, being of sentiments\ndictated by a violent and perturbed passion.\n\n    _Lear._----Filial ingratitude!\n    Is it not, as if this mouth should tear this hand\n    For lifting food to\u2019t?--But I\u2019ll punish home;\n    No, I will weep no more.---- In such a night,\n    To shut me out!---- Pour on, I will endure.\n    In such a night as this! O Regan, Gonerill,\n    Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all--\n    O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;\n    No more of that.----\n\n    _Kent._ Good, my Lord, enter here.\n\n    _Lear._ Pr\u2019ythee, go in thy thyself, seek thine own ease,\n    This tempest will not give me leave to ponder\n    On things would hurt me more--but I\u2019ll go in;\n    In, boy, go first. You houseless poverty----\n    Nay, get thee in; I\u2019ll pray, and then I\u2019ll sleep--\n    Poor naked wretches, wheresoe\u2019er you are,\n    That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm!\n    How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,\n    Your loop\u2019d and window\u2019d raggedness, defend you\n    From seasons such as these?---- O I have ta\u2019en\n    Too little care of this! take physic, Pomp;\n    Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,\n    That thou may\u2019st shake the superflux to them,\n    And show the heavens more just.\n         _King Lear. act 3. sc 5._\n\nTo illustrate the foregoing doctrine, one other instance of the same\nkind may suffice, expressing sentiments arising from remorse and\ndespair.\n\n    _Othello._ Lo! I have a weapon:\n    A better never did itself sustain\n    Upon a soldier\u2019s thigh. I\u2019ve seen the day,\n    That with this little arm, and this good sword,\n    I\u2019ve made my way through more impediments\n    Than twenty times your stop. But, oh vain boast!\n    Who can controul his fate? \u2019tis not so now.\n    Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon\u2019d;\n    Here is my journey\u2019s end, here is my butt,\n    The very sea mark of my outmost sail.\n    Do you go back dismay\u2019d? \u2019tis a lost fear.\n    Man but a rush against Othello\u2019s breast,\n    And he retires. Where should Othello go?\n    Now---- how dost thou look now? Oh ill starr\u2019d wench!\n    Pale as thy smoke! when we shall meet at compt,\n    This look of thine will hurl my soul from heav\u2019n,\n    And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl,\n    Ev\u2019n like thy chastity. O cursed slave!\n    Whip me, ye devils,\n    From the possession of this heav\u2019nly sight;\n    Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur,\n    Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire----\n    Oh, Desdemona! Desdemona! dead! dead! oh, oh!\n         _Othello, act 5. sc. 9._\n\nThe sentiments here display\u2019d flow so naturally from the passions\nrepresented, and are such genuine expressions of these passions, that it\nis not possible to conceive any imitation more perfect.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWith regard to the French author, truth obliges me to acknowledge, that\nhe describes in the style of a spectator, instead of expressing passion\nlike one who feels it; and also that he is thereby betray\u2019d into the\nother faults above mentioned, a tiresome monotony, and a pompous\ndeclamatory style[50]. It is scarce necessary to produce particular\ninstances; for he never varies from this tone. I shall however take two\npassages at a venture, in order to be confronted with those transcribed\nabove. In the tragedy of _Cinna_, \u00c6milia, after the conspiracy was\ndiscovered, having nothing in view but racks and death to herself and\nher lover, receives a pardon from Augustus, attended with the brightest\ncircumstances of magnanimity and tenderness. This is a happy situation\nfor representing the passions of surprise and gratitude in their\ndifferent stages. These passions, raised at once to the utmost pitch,\nare at first too big for utterance; and \u00c6milia\u2019s feelings must, for some\nmoments, have been expressed by violent gestures only. So soon as there\nis a vent for words, the first expressions are naturally broken and\ninterrupted. At last we ought to expect a tide of intermingled\nsentiments, occasioned by the fluctuation of the mind betwixt the two\npassions. \u00c6milia is made to behave in a very different manner. With\nextreme coolness she describes her own situation, as if she were merely\na spectator; or rather the poet takes the task off her hands.\n\n    Et je me rens, Seigneur, \u00e0 ces hautes bont\u00e9s,\n    Je recouvre la v\u00fbe aupr\u00e9s de leurs clart\u00e9s,\n    Je connois mon forfait qui me sembloit justice,\n    Et ce que n\u2019avoit p\u00fb la terreur du supplice,\n    Je sens naitre en mon ame un repentir puissant;\n    Et mon c\u0153ur en secret me dit, qu\u2019il y consent.\n    Le ciel a r\u00e9solu votre grandeur supr\u00eame,\n    Et pour preuve, Seigneur, je n\u2019en veux que moi-m\u00eame;\n    J\u2019ose avec vanit\u00e9 me donner cet \u00e9clat,\n    Puisqu\u2019il change mon c\u0153ur, qu\u2019il veut changer l\u2019\u00e9tat.\n    Ma haine va mourir que j\u2019ai crue immortelle,\n    Elle est morte, et ce c\u0153ur devient sujet fid\u00e9le,\n    Et prenant d\u00e9sormais cette haine en horreur,\n    L\u2019ardeur de vous servir succede \u00e0 sa fureur.\n         _Act 5. sc. 3._\n\nIn the tragedy of _Sertorius_, the Queen, surprised with the news that\nher lover was assassinated, instead of venting any passion, degenerates\ninto a cool spectator, even so much as to instruct the by-standers how a\nqueen ought to behave on such an occasion.\n\n    _Viriate._ Il m\u2019en fait voir ensemble, et l\u2019auteur, et la cause.\n    Par cet assassinat c\u2019est de moi qu\u2019on dispose,\n    C\u2019est mon tr\u00f4ne, c\u2019est moi qu\u2019on pretend conquerir,\n    Et c\u2019est mon juste choix qui seul l\u2019a fait perir.\n    Madame, apr\u00e9s sa perte, et parmi ces alarmes,\n    N\u2019attendez point de moi de soupirs, ni de larmes;\n    Ce sont amusemens que d\u00e9daigne aisement\n    Le prompt et noble orgueil d\u2019un vif ressentiment.\n    Qui pleure, l\u2019affoiblit, qui soupire, l\u2019exhale,\n    Il faut plus de fiert\u00e9 dans une ame royale;\n    Et ma douleur soumise aux soins de le venger, _&c._\n         _Act 5. sc. 3._\n\nSo much in general upon the genuine sentiments of passion. I proceed now\nto particular observations. And, first, Passions are seldom uniform for\nany considerable time: they generally fluctuate, swelling and subsiding\nby turns, often in a quick succession[51]. This fluctuation, in the\ncase of a real passion, will be expressed externally by proper\nsentiments; and ought to be imitated in writing and acting. Accordingly,\na climax shows never better than in expressing a swelling passion. The\nfollowing passages shall suffice for an illustration.\n\n    _Oroonoko._---- Can you raise the dead?\n    Pursue and overtake the wings of time?\n    And bring about again, the hours, the days,\n    The years, that made me happy?\n         _Oroonoko, act 2. sc. 2._\n\n    _Almeria_.---- How hast thou charm\u2019d\n    The wildness of the waves and rocks to this?\n    That thus relenting they have giv\u2019n thee back\n    To earth, to light and life, to love and me?\n         _Mourning Bride, act 1. sc. 7._\n\n    I would not be the villain that thou think\u2019st\n    For the whole space that\u2019s in the tyrant\u2019s grasp,\n    And the rich earth to boot.\n         _Macbeth, act 4. sc. 4._\n\nThe following passage expresses finely the progress of conviction.\n\n    Let me not stir, nor breathe, lest I dissolve\n    That tender, lovely form, of painted air,\n    So like Almeria. Ha! it sinks, it falls;\n    I\u2019ll catch it ere it goes, and grasp her shade.\n    \u2019Tis life! \u2019tis warm! \u2019tis she! \u2019tis she herself!\n    It is Almeria! \u2019tis, it is my wife!\n\n    _Mourning Bride, act 2. sc. 6._\n\nIn the progress of thought, our resolutions become more vigorous as well\nas our passions.\n\n    If ever I do yield or give consent,\n    By any action, word, or thought, to wed\n    Another Lord; may then just Heav\u2019n show\u2019r down, _&c._\n\n    _Mourning Bride, act 1. sc. 1._\n\nAnd this leads to a second observation, That the different stages of a\npassion, and its different directions, from its birth to its extinction,\nought to be carefully represented in the sentiments, which otherwise\nwill often be misplaced. Resentment, for example, when provoked by an\natrocious injury, discharges itself first upon the author. Sentiments\ntherefore of revenge take place of all others, and must in some measure\nbe exhausted before the person injured think of pitying himself, or of\ngrieving for his present distress. In the _Cid_ of Corneille, Don Diegue\nhaving been affronted in a cruel manner, expresses scarce any sentiment\nof revenge, but is totally occupied in contemplating the low situation\nto which he was reduced by the affront.\n\n    O rage! \u00f4 desespoir! \u00f4 vieillesse ennemie!\n    N\u2019ai je donc tant vecu que pour cette infamie?\n    Et ne suis-je blanchi dans les travaux guerriers,\n    Que pour voir en une jour fletrir tant de lauriers?\n    Mon bras, qu\u2019avec respect toute l\u2019Espagne admire,\n    Mon bras, qui tant de fois a sauv\u00e9 cet empire,\n    Tant de fois affermi le tr\u00f4ne de son roi,\n    Trahit donc ma querelle, et ne fait rien pour moi!\n    O cruel souvenir de ma gloire pass\u00e9e!\n    Oeuvre de tant de jours en un jour effac\u00e9e!\n    Nouvelle dignit\u00e9 fatale \u00e0 mon bonheur!\n    Precipice \u00e9lev\u00e9 d\u2019ou tombe mon honneur!\n    Faut-il de votre \u00e9clat voir triompher le Comte,\n    Et mourir sans vengeance, ou vivre dans la honte?\n    Comte, fois de mon Prince \u00e0 present gouverneur,\n    Ce haut rang n\u2019admet point un homme sans honneur;\n    Et ton jaloux orgueil par cet affront insigne,\n    Malgr\u00e9 le choix du Roi, m\u2019en a su rendre indigne.\n    Et toi, de mes exploits glorieux instrument,\n    Mais d\u2019un corps tout de glace inutile ornement,\n    Fer jadis tant a craindre, et qui dans cette offense\n    M\u2019as servi de parade, et non pas de defense,\n    Va quitte desormais le dernier des humains,\n    Passe pour me vanger en de meilleures mains.\n         _Le Cid, act 1. sc. 4._\n\nThese sentiments are certainly not what occur to the mind in the first\nmovements of the passion. In the same manner as in resentment, the first\nmovements of grief are always directed upon its object. Yet with\nrelation to the hidden and severe distemper that seized Alexander\nbathing in the river Cydnus, Quintus Curtius describes the first\nemotions of the army as directed upon themselves, lamenting that they\nwere left without a leader far from home, and had scarce any hopes of\nreturning in safety. Their King\u2019s distress, which must naturally have\nbeen their first concern, occupies them but in the second place\naccording to that author. In the _Aminta_ of Tasso, Sylvia, upon a\nreport of her lover\u2019s death, which she believed certain, instead of\nbemoaning the loss of a beloved object, turns her thoughts upon\nherself, and wonders her heart does not break.\n\n    Ohime, ben son di sasso,\n    Poi che questa novella non m\u2019uccide.\n         _Act 4. sc. 2._\n\nIn the tragedy of _Jane Shore_, Alicia, in the full purpose of\ndestroying her rival, has the following reflection:\n\n    Oh Jealousy! thou bane of pleasing friendship,\n    Thou worst invader of our tender bosoms;\n    How does thy rancour poison all our softness,\n    And turn our gentle natures into bitterness?\n    See where she comes! Once my heart\u2019s dearest blessing,\n    Now my chang\u2019d eyes are blasted with her beauty,\n    Loathe that known face, and sicken to behold her.\n         _Act 3. sc. 1._\n\nThese are the reflections of a cool spectator. A passion while it has\nthe ascendant, and is freely indulged, suggests not to the man who feels\nit any sentiment to its own prejudice. Reflections like the foregoing,\noccur not to him readily till the passion have spent its vigor.\n\nA person sometimes is agitated at once by different passions. The mind\nin this case vibrating like a pendulum, vents itself in sentiments which\npartake of the same vibration. This I give as a third observation:\n\n    _Queen._ \u2018Would I had never trod this English earth,\n    Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!\n    Ye\u2019ve angels faces, but Heav\u2019n knows your hearts.\n    What shall become of me now! wretched lady!\n    I am the most unhappy woman living.\n    Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes? [_To her women._\n    Shipwreck\u2019d upon a kingdom, where no pity,\n    No friends, no hope! no kindred weep for me!\n    Almost, no grave allow\u2019d me.\n         _Henry VIII. act 3. sc. 1._\n\n     _Othello._ Oh devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with\n     woman\u2019s tears, Each drop she falls, would prove a crocodile. Out of\n     my sight.\n\n     _Desdemona._ I will not stay t\u2019offend you. [_going._\n\n     _Lodovico._ Truly, an obedient lady: I do beseech your Lordship,\n     call her back.\n\n     _Oth._ Mistress----\n\n     _Des._ My Lord.\n\n     _Oth._ What would you with her, Sir?\n\n     _Lod._ Who, I, my Lord?\n\n     _Oth._ Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn: Sir, she can\n     turn and turn, and yet go on; And turn again. And she can weep,\n     Sir, weep; And she\u2019s obedient: as you say, obedient; Very\n     obedient--proceed you in your tears--Concerning this, Sir,--oh\n     well-painted passion!--I am commanded home--get you away, I\u2019ll send\n     for you anon--Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to\n     Venice.---- Hence, avaunt! [_Exit Desdemona._\n\n                     _Othello, act 4. sc. 6._\n\n\n\n     _\u00c6milia._ Oh! my good Lord, I would speak a word with you.\n\n     _Othello._ Yes, \u2019tis \u00c6milia--by and by--she\u2019s dead. \u2019Tis like, she\n     comes to speak of Cassio\u2019s death; The noise was high.--Ha, no more\n     moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were\u2019t good? I think\n     she stirs again--No--what\u2019s the best? If she come in, she\u2019ll, sure,\n     speak to my wife; My wife! my wife! What wife? I have no wife. Oh\n     insupportable! oh heavy hour!\n\n                     _Othello, act 5. sc. 7._\n\n\n\nA fourth observation is, that nature, which gave us passions, and made\nthem extremely beneficial when moderate, intended undoubtedly that they\nshould be subjected to the government of reason and conscience[52]. It\nis therefore against the order of nature, that passion in any case\nshould take the lead in contradiction to reason and conscience. Such a\nstate of mind is a sort of anarchy, which every one is ashamed of, and\nendeavours to hide or dissemble. Even love, however laudable, is\nattended with a conscious shame when it becomes immoderate: it is\ncovered from the world, and disclosed only to the beloved object:\n\n    Et que l\u2019amour souvent de remors combattu\n    Paroisse une foiblesse, et non une vertu.\n         _Boileau, L\u2019art poet. chant. 3. l. 101._\n\n    O, they love least that let men know their love.\n         _Two Gentlemen of Verona, act 1. sc. 3._\n\nHence a capital rule in the representation of strong passions, that\ntheir genuine sentiments ought to be hid or dissembled as much as\npossible. And this holds in an especial manner with respect to criminal\npassions. One never counsels the commission of a crime in plain terms.\nGuilt must not appear in its native colours, even in thought: the\nproposal must be made by hints, and by representing the action in some\nfavourable light. Of the propriety of sentiment upon such an occasion,\nShakespear, in the _Tempest_, has given us a beautiful example. The\nsubject is a proposal made by the usurping Duke of Milan to Sebastian,\nto murder his brother the King of Naples.\n\n    _Antonio._---- What might\n    Worthy Sebastian--O, what might--no more.\n    And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,\n    What thou should\u2019st be: th\u2019occasion speaks thee, and\n    My strong imagination sees a crown\n    Dropping upon thy head.\n         _Act 2. sc. 1._\n\nThere cannot be a finer picture of this sort, than that of King John\nsoliciting Hubert to murder the young Prince Arthur.\n\n    _K. John._ Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,\n    We owe thee much; within this wall of flesh\n    There is a soul counts thee her creditor,\n    And with advantage means to pay thy love.\n    And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath\n    Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.\n    Give me thy hand, I had a thing to say----\n    But I will fit it with some better time.\n    By Heaven, Hubert, I\u2019m almost asham\u2019d\n    To say what good respect I have of thee.\n\n      _Hubert._ I am much bounden to your Majesty.\n\n      _K. John._ Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet----\n    But thou shalt have--and creep time ne\u2019er so slow,\n    Yet it shall come for me to do thee good.\n    I had a thing to say--but, let it go:\n    The sun is in the heav\u2019n, and the proud day,\n    Attended with the pleasures of the world,\n    Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,\n    To give me audience. If the midnight-bell\n    Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth\n    Sound one into the drowsy race of night;\n    If this same were a church-yard where we stand,\n    And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;\n    Or if that surly spirit Melancholy\n    Had bak\u2019d thy blood and made it heavy-thick,\n    Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,\n    Making that idiot Laughter keep men\u2019s eyes,\n    And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,\n    (A passion hateful to my purposes);\n    Or if that thou could\u2019st see me without eyes,\n    Hear me without thine ears, and make reply\n    Without a tongue, using conceit alone,\n    Without eyes, ears, and harmful sounds of words;\n    Then, in despight of broad-ey\u2019d watchful day,\n    I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts.\n    But ah, I will not--Yet I love thee well;\n    And, by my troth, I think thou lov\u2019st me well.\n\n      _Hubert._ So well, that what you bid me undertake,\n    Though that my death were adjunct to my act,\n    By Heav\u2019n, I\u2019d do\u2019t.\n\n      _K. John._ Do not I know, thou would\u2019st?\n    Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye\n    On yon young boy. I\u2019ll tell thee what, my friend;\n    He is a very serpent in my way.\n    And, wheresoe\u2019er this foot of mine doth tread,\n    He lies before me. Dost thou understand me?\n    Thou art his keeper.\n         _King John, act 3. sc. 5._\n\nAs things are best illustrated by their contraries, I proceed to collect\nfrom classical authors, sentiments that appear faulty. The first class\nshall consist of sentiments that accord not with the passion; or, in\nother words, sentiments that the passion represented does not naturally\nsuggest. In the second class, shall be ranged sentiments that may belong\nto an ordinary passion, but unsuitable to it as tinctured by a singular\ncharacter. Thoughts that properly are not sentiments, but rather\ndescriptions, make a third. Sentiments that belong to the passion\nrepresented, but are faulty as being introduced too early or too late,\nmake a fourth. Vicious sentiments exposed in their native dress, instead\nof being concealed or disguised, make a fifth. And in the last class,\nshall be collected sentiments suited to no character or passion, and\ntherefore unnatural.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe first class contains faulty sentiments of various kinds, which I\nshall endeavour to distinguish from each other. And first sentiments\nthat are faulty by being above the tone of the passion.\n\n    _Othello._---- O my soul\u2019s joy!\n    If after every tempest come such calms,\n    May the winds blow till they have waken\u2019d death:\n    And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas\n    Olympus high, and duck again as low\n    As hell\u2019s from heaven!\n         _Othello, act 2. sc. 6._\n\nThis sentiment is too strong to be suggested by so slight a joy as that\nof meeting after a storm at sea.\n\n    _Philaster._ Place me, some god, upon a pyramid\n    Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice\n    Loud as your thunder to me, that from thence\n    I may discourse to all the under-world\n    The worth that dwells in him.\n         _Philaster of Beaumont and Fletcher, act 4._\n\nSecondly, Sentiments below the tone of the passion. Ptolemy, by putting\nPompey to death, having incurred the displeasure of C\u00e6sar, was in the\nutmost dread of being dethroned. In this agitating situation, Corneille\nmakes him utter a speech full of cool reflection, that is in no degree\nexpressive of the passion.\n\n    Ah! si je t\u2019avois cr\u00fb, je n\u2019aurois pas de ma\u00eetre,\n    Je serois dans le tr\u00f4ne o\u00f9 le Ciel m\u2019a fait na\u00eetre;\n    Mais c\u2019est une imprudence assez commune aux rois,\n    D\u2019ecouter trop d\u2019avis, et se tromper au choix.\n    Le Destin les aveugle au bord du pr\u00e9cipice,\n    Ou si quelque lumiere en leur ame se glisse,\n    Cette fausse clart\u00e9 dont il les eblouit,\n    Le plonge dans une gouffre, et puis s\u2019evanouit.\n         _La mort de Pomp\u00e9e, act 4. sc. 1._\n\nIn _Les Freres ennemies_ of Racine, the second act is opened with a\nlove-scene. Hemon talks to his mistress of the torments of absence, of\nthe lustre of her eyes, that he ought to die no where but at her feet,\nand that one moment of absence was a thousand years. Antigone on her\npart acts the coquette, and pretends she must be gone to wait on her\nmother and brother, and cannot stay to listen to his courtship. This is\nodious French gallantry, below the dignity of the passion of love. It\nwould scarce be excusable in painting modern French manners; and is\ninsufferable where the ancients are brought upon the stage. The manners\npainted in the _Alexandre_ of the same author are not more just. French\ngallantry prevails there throughout.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThird. Sentiments that agree not with the tone of the passion; as where\na pleasant sentiment is grafted upon a painful passion, or the\ncontrary. In the following instances the sentiments are too gay for a\nserious passion.\n\n    No happier talk these faded eyes pursue;\n    To read and weep is all they now can do.\n         _Eloisa to Abelard, l. 47._\n\nAgain,\n\n    Heav\u2019n first taught letters for some wretch\u2019s aid,\n    Some banish\u2019d lover, or some captive maid;\n    They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,\n    Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires;\n    The virgin\u2019s wish without her fears impart,\n    Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart;\n    Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,\n    And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole.\n         _Eloisa to Abelard, l. 51._\n\nThese thoughts are pretty; they suit Pope extremely, but not Eloisa.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSatan, enraged by a threatening of the angel Gabriel, answers thus:\n\n    Then when I am thy captive talk of chains,\n    Proud limitary cherub; but ere then\n    Far heavier load thyself expect to feel\n    From my prevailing arm, though Heaven\u2019s King\n    Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers,\n    Us\u2019d to the yoke, draw\u2019st his triumphant wheels\n    In progress through the road of heav\u2019n _star-pav\u2019d_.\n         _Paradise Lost, book 4._\n\nThe concluding epithet forms a grand and delightful image, which cannot\nbe the genuine offspring of rage.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFourth. Sentiments too artificial for a serious passion. I give for the\nfirst example a speech of Piercy expiring:\n\n    O, Harry, thou hast robb\u2019d me of my growth:\n    I better brook the loss of brittle life,\n    Than those proud titles thou hast won of me;\n    They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword my flesh.\n    But thought\u2019s the slave of life, and life time\u2019s fool;\n    And time, that takes survey of all the world,\n    Must have a stop.\n         _First part, Henry IV. act 5. sc. 9._\n\nLivy inserts the following passage in a plaintive oration of the\nLocrenses accusing Pleminius the Roman legate of oppression.\n\n     \u201cIn hoc legato vestro, nec hominis quicquam est, Patres Conscripti,\n     pr\u00e6ter figuram et speciem; neque Romani civis, pr\u00e6ter habitum\n     vestitumque, et sonum lingu\u00e6 Latin\u00e6. Pestis et bellua immanis,\n     quales fretum, quondam, quo ab Sicilia dividimur, ad perniciem\n     navigantium circumsedisse, fabul\u00e6 ferunt[53].\u201d\n\nCongreve shows a fine taste in the sentiments of the _Mourning Bride_.\nBut in the following passage the picture is too artful to be suggested\nby severe grief:\n\n    _Almeria._ O no! Time gives increase to my afflictions.\n    The circling hours, that gather all the woes\n    Which are diffus\u2019d through the revolving year,\n    Come heavy-laden with th\u2019 oppressing weight\n    To me; with me, successively, they leave\n    The sighs, the tears, the groans, the restless cares,\n    And all the damps of grief, that did retard their flight,\n    They shake their downy wings, and scatter all\n    The dire collected dews on my poor head;\n    Then fly with joy and swiftness from me.\n         _Act 1. sc. 1._\n\nIn the same play, Almeria seeing a dead body, which she took to be\nAlphonso\u2019s, expresses sentiments strained and artificial, which nature\nsuggests not to any person upon such an occasion:\n\n    Had they, or hearts, or eyes, that did this deed?\n    Could eyes endure to guide such cruel hands?\n    Are not my eyes guilty alike with theirs,\n    That thus can gaze, and yet not turn to stone?\n   --I do not weep! The springs of tears are dry\u2019d,\n    And of a sudden I am calm, as if\n    All things were well; and yet my husband\u2019s murder\u2019d!\n    Yes, yes, I know to mourn! I\u2019ll sluice this heart,\n    The source of wo, and let the torrent loose.\n         _Act 5. sc. 11._\n\n     _Lady Trueman._ How could you be so cruel to defer giving me that\n     joy which you knew I must receive from your presence? You have\n     robb\u2019d my life of some hours of happiness that ought to have been\n     in it.\n\n                     _Drummer, act 5._\n\n\n\nPope\u2019s Elegy to the memory of an unfortunate lady, expresses delicately\nthe most tender concern and sorrow for the deplorable fate of a person\nof worth. A poem of this kind, deeply serious and pathetic, rejects all\nfiction with disdain. We therefore can give no quarter to the following\npassage, which is eminently discordant with the subject. It is not the\nlanguage of the heart, but of the imagination indulging its flights at\nease. It would be a still more severe censure, if it should be ascribed\nto imitation, copying indiscreetly what has been said by others.\n\n    What though no weeping loves thy ashes grace,\n    Nor polish\u2019d marble emulate thy face?\n    What though no sacred earth allow thee room,\n    Nor hallow\u2019d dirge be muttered o\u2019er thy tomb?\n    Yet shall thy grave with rising flow\u2019rs be drest,\n    And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:\n    There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,\n    There the first roses of the year shall blow;\n    While angels with their silver wings o\u2019ershade\n    The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made.\n\nFifth. Fanciful or sinical sentiments, sentiments that degenerate into\npoint or conceit, however they may amuse in an idle hour, can never be\nthe offspring of any serious or important passion. In the _Ierusalem_\nof Tasso, Tancred, after a single combat, spent with fatigue and loss of\nblood, falls into a swoon. In this situation, understood to be dead, he\nis discovered by Erminia, who was in love with him to distraction. A\nmore happy situation cannot be imagined, to raise grief in an instant to\nits highest pitch; and yet, in venting her sorrow, she descends most\nabominably to antithesis and conceit, even of the lowest kind.\n\n    E in lui vers\u00f2 d\u2019inessicabil vena\n    Lacrime, e voce di sospiri mista.\n    In che misero punto hor qui me mena\n    Fortuna? a che veduta amara e trista?\n    Dopo gran tempo i\u2019 ti ritrovo \u00e0 pena\n    Tancredi, e ti riveggio, e non son vista,\n    Vista non son da te, benche presente\n    E trovando ti perdo eternamente.\n         _Cant. 19. st. 105._\n\nArmida\u2019s lamentation respecting her lover Rinaldo[54], is in the same\nvitious taste.\n\n    _Queen._ Give me no help in lamentation,\n    I am not barren to bring forth complaints:\n    All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,\n    That I, being govern\u2019d by the wat\u2019ry moon,\n    May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world.\n    Ah, for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward.\n         _King Richard III. act 2. sc. 2._\n\n    _Jane Shore._ Let me be branded for the public scorn,\n    Turn\u2019d forth, and driven to wander like a vagabond,\n    Be friendless and forsaken, seek my bread\n    Upon the barren wild, and desolate waste,\n    _Feed on my sighs, and drink my falling tears_;\n    Ere I consent to teach my lips injustice,\n    Or wrong the orphan who has none to save him.\n         _Jane Shore, act 4._\n\n    Give me your drops, ye soft-descending rains,\n    Give me your streams, ye never-ceasing springs,\n    That my sad eyes may still supply my duty,\n    And feed an everlasting flood of sorrow.\n         _Jane Shore, act 5._\n\nJane Shore utters her last breath in a witty conceit.\n\n    Then all is well, and I shall sleep in peace----\n    \u2019Tis very dark, and I have lost you now----\n    Was there not something I would have bequeath\u2019d you?\n    But I have nothing left me to bestow,\n    Nothing but one sad sigh. Oh mercy, Heav\u2019n! [_Dies._\n         _Act 5._\n\nGilford to Lady Jane Gray, when both were condemned to die:\n\n    Thou stand\u2019st unmov\u2019d;\n    Calm temper sits upon thy beauteous brow;\n    Thy eyes that flow\u2019d so fast for Edward\u2019s loss,\n    Gaze unconcern\u2019d upon the ruin round thee,\n    As if thou hadst resolv\u2019d to brave thy fate,\n    And triumph in the midst of desolation.\n    Ha! see, it swells, the liquid crystal rises,\n    It starts in spight of thee---- but I will catch it,\n    Nor let the earth be wet with dew so rich.\n         _Lady Jane Gray, act 4. near the end._\n\nThe concluding sentiment is altogether sinical, unsuitable to the\nimportance of the occasion, and even to the dignity of the passion of\nlove.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nCorneille, in his _Examen of the Cid_[55], answering an objection, that\nhis sentiments are sometimes too much refined for persons in deep\ndistress, observes, that if poets did not indulge sentiments more\ningenious or refined than are prompted by passion, their performances\nwould often be low; and extreme grief would never suggest but\nexclamations merely. This is in plain language to assert, That forced\nthoughts are more relished than such as are natural, and therefore ought\nto be preferred.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe second class is of sentiments that may belong to an ordinary\npassion, but are not perfectly concordant with it, as tinctured by a\nsingular character. In the last act of that excellent comedy, _The\nCareless Husband_, Lady Easy, upon Sir Charles\u2019s reformation, is made to\nexpress more violent and turbulent sentiments of joy, than are\nconsistent with the mildness of her character.\n\n     _Lady Easy._ O the soft treasure! O the dear reward of\n     long-desiring love---- Thus! thus to have you mine, is something\n     more than happiness, \u2019tis double life, and madness of abounding\n     joy.\n\nIf the sentiments of a passion ought to be suited to a peculiar\ncharacter, it is still more necessary that sentiments devoid of passion\nbe suited to the character. In the 5th act of the _Drummer_, Addison\nmakes his gardener act even below the character of an ignorant credulous\nrustic: he gives him the behaviour of a gaping idiot.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe following instances are descriptions rather than sentiments, which\ncompose a third class.\n\nOf this descriptive manner of painting the passions, there is in the\n_Hippolytus_ of Euripides, act 5. an illustrious instance, _viz._ the\nspeech of Theseus, upon hearing of his son\u2019s dismal exit. In Racine\u2019s\ntragedy of _Esther_, the Queen hearing of the decree issued against her\npeople, instead of expressing sentiments suitable to the occasion, turns\nher attention upon herself, and describes with accuracy her own\nsituation.\n\n    Juste Ciel? Tout mon sang dans mes veines se glace.\n         _Act 1. sc. 3._\n\nAgain,\n\n    _Aman._ C\u2019en est fait. Mon orgueil est forc\u00e9 de plier,\n    L\u2019inexorable Aman est reduit a prier.\n         _Esther, act 3. sc. 5._\n\n    _Athalie._ Quel prodige nouveau me trouble et m\u2019embarrasse?\n    La douceur de sa voix, son enfance, sa grace,\n    Font insensiblement \u00e0 mon inimiti\u00e9\n    Succ\u00e9der---- Je serois sensible a la piti\u00e9?\n         _Athalie, act 2. sc. 7._\n\n    _Titus._ O de ma passion fureur desesper\u00e9e!\n         _Brutus of Voltaire, act 3. sc. 6._\n\nWhat other are the foregoing instances than describing the passion\nanother feels?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAn example is given above of remorse and despair expressed by genuine\nand natural sentiments. In the fourth book of _Paradise Lost_, Satan is\nmade to express his remorse and despair in sentiments, which though\nbeautiful, are not altogether natural. They are rather the sentiments of\na spectator, than of a person who actually is tormented with these\npassions.\n\nThe fourth class is of sentiments introduced too early or too late.\n\nSome examples mentioned above belong to this class. Add the following\nfrom _Venice preserv\u2019d_, act 5. at the close of the scene betwixt\nBelvidera and her father Priuli. The account given by Belvidera of the\ndanger she was in, and of her husband\u2019s threatening to murder her, ought\nnaturally to have alarmed her relenting father, and to have made him\nexpress the most perturbed sentiments. Instead of which he dissolves\ninto tenderness and love for his daughter, as if he had already\ndelivered her from danger, and as if there were a perfect tranquillity.\n\n    Canst thou forgive me all my follies past?\n    I\u2019ll henceforth be indeed a father; never,\n    Never more thus expose, but cherish thee,\n    Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life,\n    Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o\u2019er thee:\n    Peace to thy heart.\n\nImmoral sentiments exposed in their native colours, instead of being\nconcealed or disguised, compose the fifth class.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Lady Macbeth projecting the death of the King, has the following\nsoliloquy:\n\n   ---- The raven himself\u2019s not hoarse\n    That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan\n    Under my battlements. Come all you spirits\n    That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,\n    And fill me from the crown to th\u2019 toe, top-full\n    Of direct cruelty; make thick my blood,\n    Stop up th\u2019 access and passage to remorse\n    That no compunctious visitings of nature\n    Shake my fell purpose.\n         _Macbeth, act 1. sc. 7._\n\nThis speech is not natural. Murder under trust was never perpetrated\neven by the most hardened miscreant without compunction. And that the\nlady here must have been in horrible agitation appears, from her\ninvoking the infernal spirits to fill her with cruelty, and to stop up\nall avenues to remorse. But in this state of mind, it is a never-failing\ndevice of self-deceit, to draw the thickest veil over the wicked action,\nand to extenuate it by all circumstances that imagination can suggest.\nAnd if the crime cannot bear disguise, the next attempt is, to thrust it\nout of mind altogether, and to rush on to action without thought. This\nlast was the husband\u2019s method.\n\n    Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;\n    Which must be acted, ere they must be scann\u2019d.\n         _Act 3. sc. 5._\n\nThe lady follows neither of these courses, but in a deliberate manner\nendeavours to fortify her heart in the commission of an execrable crime,\nwithout even attempting a disguise. This I think is not natural. I hope\nthere is no such wretch to be found, as is here represented. In the\n_Pompey_ of Corneille[56], Photine counsels a wicked action in the\nplainest terms without disguise.\n\n    Seigneur, n\u2019attirez point le tonnerre en ces lieux,\n    Rangez-vous du parti des destins et des dieux,\n    Et sans les accuser d\u2019injustice, ou d\u2019outrage,\n    Puis qu\u2019ils font les heureux, adorez leur ouvrage;\n    Quels que soient leurs decrets, d\u00e9clarez-vouz pour eux,\n    Et pour leur ob\u00e9ir, perdez le malheureux.\n    Press\u00e9 de toutes parts des col\u00e9res celestes,\n    Il en vient dessus vous faire fondre les restes;\n    Et sa t\u00eate qu\u2019\u00e0 peine il a p\u00fb d\u00e9rober,\n    Tout pr\u00eate de choir, cherche avec qui tomber.\n    Sa retraite chez vous en effet n\u2019est qu\u2019un crime;\n    Elle marque sa haine, et non pas son estime;\n    Il ne vient que vous perdre en venant prendre port,\n    Et vous pouvez douter s\u2019il est digne de mort!\n    Il devoit mieux remplir nos v\u0153ux et notre attente,\n    Faire voir sur ses nefs la victoire flotante;\n    Il n\u2019e\u00fbt ici trouv\u00e9 que joye et que festins,\n    Mais puisqu\u2019il est vaincu, qu\u2019il s\u2019en prenne aux destins\n    J\u2019en veux \u00e0 sa disgrace et non \u00e0 sa personne,\n    J\u2019ex\u00e9cute \u00e0 regret ce que le ciel ordonne,\n    Et du m\u00eame poignard, pour C\u00e9sar destin\u00e9,\n    Je perce en soupirant son c\u0153ur infortun\u00e9.\n    Vouz ne pouvez enfin qu\u2019aux d\u00e9pens de sa t\u00eate\n    Mettre \u00e0 l\u2019abri la v\u00f4tre et parer la temp\u00eate.\n    Laissez nommer sa mort un injuste attentat,\n    La justice n\u2019est pas une vertu d\u2019etat.\n    Le choix des actions, ou mauvaises, ou bonnes,\n    Ne fait qu\u2019an\u00e9antir la force des couronnes;\n    Le droit des rois consiste \u00e0 ne rien \u00e9pargner;\n    La timide \u00e9quit\u00e9 d\u00e9truit l\u2019art de regner,\n    Quand on craint d\u2019\u00eatre injuste on a to\u00fbjours \u00e0 craindre,\n    Et qui veut tout pouvoir doit oser tout enfraindre,\n    Fuir comme un deshonneur la vertu qui le pert,\n    Et voler sans scrupule au crime qui lui fert.\n\nIn the tragedy of _Esther_[57], Haman acknowledges, without disguise,\nhis cruelty, insolence, and pride. And there is another example of the\nsame kind in the _Agamemnon_ of Seneca[58]. In the tragedy of\n_Athalie_[59], Mathan, in cool blood, relates to his friend many black\ncrimes he had been guilty of to satisfy his ambition.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn Congreve\u2019s _Double-dealer_, Maskwell, instead of disguising or\ncolouring his crimes, values himself upon them in a soliloquy:\n\n     Cynthia, let thy beauty gild my crimes; and whatsoever I commit of\n     treachery or deceit, shall be imputed to me as a merit.----\n     Treachery! what treachery? Love cancels all the bonds of\n     friendship, and sets men right upon their first foundations.\n\n                     _Act 2. sc. 8._\n\nIn French plays, love, instead of being hid or disguised, is treated as\na serious concern, and of greater importance than fortune, family, or\ndignity. I suspect the reason to be, that in the capital of France,\nlove, by the easiness of intercourse, has dwindled down from a real\npassion to be a connection that is regulated entirely by the mode or\nfashion[60]. This may in some measure excuse their writers, but will\nnever make their plays be relished among foreigners.\n\n     _Maxime._ Quoi, trahir, mon ami!\n\n     _Euphorbe._---- L\u2019amour rend tout permis, Un v\u00e9ritable amant ne\n     conno\u00eet point d\u2019amis.\n\n                     _Cinna, act 3. sc. 1._\n\n\n\n    _Cesar._ Reine, tout est paisible, et la ville calm\u00e9e,\n    Qu\u2019un trouble assez leger avoit trop alarm\u00e9e,\n    N\u2019a plus \u00e0 redouter le divorce intestin\n    Du soldat insolent, et du peuple mutin.\n    Mais, \u00f4 Dieux! ce moment que je vous ai quitt\u00e9e,\n    D\u2019un trouble bien plus grand \u00e0 mon ame agit\u00e9e,\n    Et ces soins importuns qui m\u2019arrachoient de vous\n    Contre ma grandeur m\u00eame allumoient mon courroux.\n    Je lui voulois du mal de m\u2019\u00eatre si contraire,\n    De rendre ma presence ailleurs si necessaire.\n    Mais je lui pardonnois au simple souvenir\n    Du bonheur qu\u2019a ma fl\u00e2me elle fait obtenir.\n    C\u2019est elle dont je tiens cette haute esp\u00e9rance,\n    Qui flate mes desirs d\u2019une illustre apparence,\n    Et fait croire \u00e0 Cesar qu\u2019il peut former de v\u0153ux,\n    Qu\u2019il n\u2019est pas tout-\u00e0-fait indigne de vos feux,\n    Et qu\u2019il peut en pretendre une juste conqu\u00eate,\n    N\u2019ayant plus que les Dieux au dessus de sa t\u00eate.\n    Oui, Reine, si quelqu\u2019un dans ce vaste univers\n    Pouvoit porter plus haut la gloire de vos fers;\n    S\u2019il \u00e9toit quelque tr\u00f4ne o\u00f9 vous puissiez paro\u00eetre\n    Plus dignement assise en captivant son ma\u00eetre,\n    J\u2019irois, j\u2019irois \u00e0 lui, moins pour le lui ravir,\n    Que pour lui disputer le droit de vous servir;\n    Et je n\u2019aspirerois au bonheur de vous plaire,\n    Qu\u2019apr\u00e9s avoir mis bas un si grand adversaire.\n    C\u2019etoit pour acquerir un droit si pr\u00e9cieux,\n    Que combatoit par tout mon bras ambitieux,\n    Et dans Pharsale m\u00eame il a tir\u00e9 l\u2019ep\u00e9e\n    Plus pour le conserver, que pour vaincre Pomp\u00e9e.\n    Je l\u2019ai vaincu, Princesse, et le Dieu de combats\n    M\u2019y favorisoit moins que vos divins appas.\n    Ils conduisoient ma main, ils enfloient mon courage,\n    Cette pleine victoire est leur dernier ouvrage,\n    C\u2019est l\u2019effet des ardeurs qu\u2019ils daignoient m\u2019inspirer;\n    Et vos beaux yeux enfin m\u2019ayant fait so\u00fbpirer,\n    Pour faire que votre ame avec gloire y r\u00e9ponde,\n    M\u2019ont rendu le premier, et de Rome, et du monde;\n    C\u2019est ce glorieux titre, \u00e0 pr\u00e9sent effectif,\n    Que je viens ennoblir par celui de captif;\n    Heureux, si mon \u00e9sprit gagne tant sur le v\u00f4tre,\n    Qu\u2019il en estime l\u2019un, et me permette l\u2019autre.\n         _Pomp\u00e9e, act 4. sc. 3._\n\nThe last class comprehends sentiments that are unnatural, as being\nsuited to no character nor passion. These may be subdivided into three\nbranches: first, sentiments unsuitable to the constitution of man and\nthe laws of his nature; second, inconsistent sentiments; third,\nsentiments that are pure rant and extravagance.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen the fable is of human affairs, every event, every incident, and\nevery circumstance, ought to be natural, otherwise the imitation is\nimperfect. But an imperfect imitation is a venial fault, compared with\nthat of running cross to nature. In the _Hippolytus_ of Euripides[61],\nHippolytus, wishing for another self in his own situation, How much\n(says he) should I be touched with his misfortune! as if it were natural\nto grieve more for the misfortunes of another than for one\u2019s own.\n\n    _Osmyn._ Yet I behold her--yet--and now no more.\n    Turn your lights inward, Eyes, and view my thought,\n    So shall you still behold her--\u2019twill not be.\n    O impotence of sight! mechanic sense\n    Which to exterior objects ow\u2019st thy faculty,\n    Not seeing of election, but necessity.\n    Thus do our eyes, as do all common mirrors,\n    Successively reflect succeeding images.\n    Nor what they would, but must; a star or toad;\n    Just as the hand of Chance administers!\n         _Mourning Bride, act 2. sc. 8._\n\nNo man, in his senses, ever thought of applying his eyes to discover\nwhat passes in his mind; far less of blaming his eyes for not seeing a\nthought or idea. In Moliere\u2019s _L\u2019Avare_[62], Harpagon being robbed of\nhis money, seizes himself by the arm, mistaking it for that of the\nrobber. And again he expresses himself as follows:\n\n     Je veux aller querir la justice, et faire donner la question \u00e0\n     toute ma maison; \u00e0 servantes, \u00e0 valets, \u00e0 fils, \u00e0 fille, et \u00e0 moi\n     aussi.\n\nThis is so absurd as scarce to provoke a smile if it be not at the\nauthor.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOf the second branch the following are examples.\n\n                   ---- Now bid me run\n    And I will strive with things impossible,\n    Yea get the better of them.\n         _Julius C\u00e6sar, act 2. sc. 3._\n\n    Vos mains seules ont droit de vaincre un invincible.\n         _Le Cid, act 5. sc. last._\n\n    Que son nom soit beni. Que son nom soit chant\u00e9.\n    Que l\u2019on celebre ses ouvrages\n    Au de la de l\u2019eternit\u00e9.\n\n    _Esther, act 5. sc. last._\n    Me miserable! which way shall I fly\n    Infinite wrath and infinite despair?\n    Which way I fly is hell: myself am hell:\n    And in the _lowest_ deep, a _lower_ deep\n    Still threat\u2019ning to devour me, opens wide;\n    To which, the hell I suffer seems a heav\u2019n.\n         _Paradise Lost, book 4._\n\nOf the third branch, take the following samples.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLucan, talking of Pompey\u2019s sepulchre,\n\n             ---- Romanum nomen, et omne\n    Imperium Magno est tumuli modus. Obrue saxa\n    Crimine plena de\u00fbm. Si tota est Herculis Oete,\n    Et juga tota vacant Bromio Nyseia; quare\n    Unus in Egypto Magno lapis? Omnia Lagi\n    Rura tenere potest, si nullo cespite nomen\n    H\u00e6serit. Erremus populi, cinerumque tuorum,\n    Magne, metu nullas Nili calcemus arenas.\n         _L. 8. l. 798._\n\nThus in Rowe\u2019s translation:\n\n    Where there are seas, or air, or earth, or skies,\n    Where-e\u2019er Rome\u2019s empire stretches, Pompey lies.\n    Far be the vile memorial then convey\u2019d!\n    Nor let this stone the partial gods upbraid.\n    Shall Hercules all Oeta\u2019s heights demand,\n    And Nysa\u2019s hill for Bacchus only stand;\n    While one poor pebble is the warrior\u2019s doom\n    That fought the cause of liberty and Rome?\n    If fate decrees he must in Egypt lie,\n    Let the whole fertile realm his grave supply,\n    Yield the wide country to his awful shade,}\n    Nor let us dare on any part to tread,}\n    Fearful we violate the mighty dead.}\n\nThe following passages are pure rant. Coriolanus speaking to his mother,\n\n    What is this?\n    Your knees to me? to your corrected son?\n    Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach\n    Fillop the stars: then let the mutinous winds\n    Strike the proud cedars \u2019gainst the fiery sun:\n    Murd\u2019ring impossibility, to make\n    What cannot be, slight work.\n         _Coriolanus, act 5. sc. 3._\n\n    _C\u00e6sar._---- Danger knows full well,\n    That C\u00e6sar is more dangerous than he.\n    We were two lions litter\u2019d in one day,\n    And I the elder and more terrible.\n         _Julius C\u00e6sar, act 2. sc. 4._\n\n    _Almahide._ This day----\n    I gave my faith to him, he his to me.\n\n    _Almanzor._ Good Heav\u2019n, thy book of fate before me lay\n    But to tear out the journal of this day.\n    Or if the order of the world below,}\n    Will not the gap of one whole day allow,}\n    Give me that minute when she made that vow.}\n    That minute ev\u2019n the happy from their bliss might give,\n    And those who live in grief a shorter time would live.\n    So small a link if broke, th\u2019 eternal chain\n    Would like divided waters join again.\n         _Conquest of Granada, act 3._\n\n    _Almanzor._---- I\u2019ll hold it fast\n    As life; and when life\u2019s gone, I\u2019ll hold this last.\n    And if thou tak\u2019st it after I am slain,\n    I\u2019ll send my ghost to fetch it back again.\n         _Conquest of Granada, part 2. act 3._\n\n    _Lynairaxa._ A crown is come, and will not fate allow.\n    And yet I feel something like death is near.\n    My guards, my guards----\n    Let not that ugly skeleton appear.\n    Sure Destiny mistakes; this death\u2019s not mine;\n    She doats, and meant to cut another line.\n    Tell her I am a queen---- but \u2019tis too late;\n    Dying, I charge rebellion on my fate;\n    Bow down, ye slaves----\n    Bow quickly down and your submission show;\n    I\u2019m pleas\u2019d to taste an empire ere I go. [_Dies._\n         _Conquest of Granada, part 2. act. 5._\n\n    _Ventidius._ But you, ere love misled your wand\u2019ring eyes,\n    Were, sure, the chief and best of human race,\n    Fram\u2019d in the very pride and boast of nature,\n    So perfect, that the gods who form\u2019d you wonder\u2019d\n    At their own skill, and cry\u2019d, A lucky hit\n    Has mended our design.\n         _Dryden, All for Love, act 1._\n\nNot to talk of the impiety of this sentiment, it is ludicrous instead of\nbeing lofty.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe famous Epitaph on Raphael is not less absurd than any of the\nforegoing passages:\n\n    Raphael, timuit, quo sospite, vinci\n    Rerum magna parens, et moriente mori.\n\nImitated by Pope in his Epitaph on Sir Godfrey Kneller:\n\n    Living, great Nature fear\u2019d he might outvie\n    Her works; and dying, fears herself may die.\n\nSuch is the force of imitation; for Pope of himself would never have\nbeen guilty of a thought so extravagant.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XVII.\n\nLanguage of Passion.\n\n\nAmong the particulars that compose the social part of our nature, a\npropensity to communicate our opinions, our emotions, and every thing\nthat affects us, is remarkable. Bad fortune and injustice affect every\none greatly; and of these we are so prone to complain, that if we have\nno friend or acquaintance to take part in our sufferings, we sometimes\nutter our complaints aloud even where there are none to listen.\n\nBut this propensity, though natural, operates not in every state of\nmind. A man immoderately grieved, seeks to afflict himself; and\nself-affliction is the gratification of the passion. Immoderate grief is\ntherefore mute; because complaining is struggling for relief:\n\n    It is the wretch\u2019s comfort still to have\n    Some small reserve of near and inward wo,\n    Some unsuspected hoard of inward grief,\n    Which they unseen may wail, and weep, and mourn,\n    And glutton-like alone devour.\n         _Mourning Bride, act 1. sc. 1._\n\nWhen grief subsides, it then and no sooner finds a tongue. We complain,\nbecause complaining is an effort to disburden the mind of its\ndistress[63].\n\nSurprise and terror are silent passions for a different reason: they\nagitate the mind so violently, as for a time to suspend the exercise of\nits faculties, and in particular that of speech.\n\nLove and revenge, when immoderate, are not more loquacious than\nimmoderate grief. But when these passions become moderate, they set the\ntongue free, and, like moderate grief, become loquacious. Moderate love,\nwhen unsuccessful, is vented in complaints; when successful, is full of\njoy expressed both in words and gestures.\n\nAs no passion hath any long uninterrupted existence[64] nor beats always\nwith an equal pulse, the language suggested by passion is also unequal\nand interrupted. And even during an uninterrupted fit of passion, we\nonly express in words the more capital sentiments. In familiar\nconversation, one who vents every single thought is justly branded with\nthe character of _loquacity_. Sensible persons express no thoughts but\nwhat make some figure. In the same manner, we are only disposed to\nexpress the strongest impulses of passion, especially when it returns\nwith impetuosity after some interruption.\n\nI already have had occasion to observe[65], that the sentiments ought to\nbe tuned to the passion, and the language to both. Elevated sentiments\nrequire elevated language: tender sentiments ought to be clothed in\nwords that are soft and flowing: when the mind is depressed with any\npassion, the sentiments must be expressed in words that are humble, not\nlow. Words have an intimate connection with the ideas they represent;\nand the representation must be imperfect, if the words correspond not\nprecisely to the ideas. An elevated tone of language to express a plain\nor humble sentiment, has a bad effect by a discordant mixture of\nfeeling. There is not less discord when elevated sentiments are dressed\nin low words:\n\n    Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non vult.\n    Indignatur item privatis ac prope Socco\n    Dignis carminibus narrari c\u0153na Thyest\u00e6.\n         _Horace, Ars poet. l. 89._\n\nThis however excludes not figurative expression, which, within moderate\nbounds, communicates to the sentiment an agreeable elevation. We are\nsensible of an effect directly opposite, where figurative expression is\nindulged beyond a just measure. The opposition betwixt the expression\nand the sentiment, makes the discord appear greater than it is in\nreality[66].\n\nAt the same time, all passions admit not equally of figures. Pleasant\nemotions, which elevate or swell the mind, vent themselves in strong\nepithets and figurative expression. Humbling and dispiriting passions,\non the contrary, affect to speak plain:\n\n    Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri\n    Telephus et Peleus: cum pauper et exul uterque;\n    Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba,\n    Si curat cor spectantis tetigisse querela.\n         _Horace, Ars poet. 95._\n\nFigurative expression is the work of an enlivened imagination, and for\nthat reason cannot be the language of anguish or distress. A scene of\nthis kind is painted by Otway in colours finely adapted to the subject.\nThere is scarce a figure in it, except a short and natural simile with\nwhich the speech is introduced.\n\nBelvidera talking to her father of her husband:\n\n    Think you saw what pass\u2019d at our last parting;\n    Think you beheld him like a raging lion,\n    Pacing the earth, and tearing up his steps,\n    Fate in his eyes, and roaring with the pain\n    Of burning fury; think you saw his one hand\n    Fix\u2019d on my throat, while the extended other\n    Grasp\u2019d a keen threat\u2019ning dagger; oh, \u2019twas thus\n    We last embrac\u2019d, when, trembling with revenge,\n    He dragg\u2019d me to the ground, and at my bosom\n    Presented horrid death; cry\u2019d out, My friends,\n    Where are my friends? swore, wept, rag\u2019d, threaten\u2019d, lov\u2019d;\n    For he yet lov\u2019d, and that dear love preserv\u2019d me\n    To this last trial of a father\u2019s pity.\n    I fear not death, but cannot bear a thought\n    That that dear hand should do th\u2019 unfriendly office;\n    If I was ever then your care, now hear me;\n    Fly to the senate, save the promis\u2019d lives\n    Of his dear friends, ere mine be made the sacrifice.\n         _Venice preserv\u2019d, act 5._\n\nTo preserve this resemblance betwixt words and their meaning, the\nsentiments of active and hurrying passions ought to be dressed in words\nwhere syllables prevail that are pronounced short or fast; for these\nmake an impression of hurry and precipitation. Emotions, on the other\nhand, that rest upon their objects, are best expressed by words where\nsyllables prevail that are pronounced long or slow. A person affected\nwith melancholy has a languid and slow train of perceptions. The\nexpression best suited to this state of mind, is where words not only of\nlong but of many syllables abound in the composition. For that reason,\nnothing can be finer than the following passage:\n\n    In those deep solitudes, and awful cells,\n    Where heav\u2019nly-pensive Contemplation dwells,\n    And ever-musing Melancholy reigns.\n         _Pope, Eloisa to Abelard._\n\nTo preserve the same resemblance, another circumstance is requisite,\nthat the language conformable to the emotion, be rough or smooth, broken\nor uniform. Calm and sweet emotions are best expressed by words that\nglide softly; surprise, fear, and other turbulent passions, require an\nexpression both rough and broken.\n\nIt cannot have escaped any diligent inquirer into nature, that in the\nhurry of passion, one generally expresses that thing first which is most\nat heart. This is beautifully done in the following passage.\n\n    Me, me; adsum qui feci: in me convertite ferrum,\n    O Rutuli, mea fraus omnis.\n         _\u00c6neid ix. 427._\n\nPassion has often the effect of redoubling words, the better to make\nthem express the strong conception of the mind. This is finely\nrepresented in the following examples:\n\n          ---- Thou sun, said I, fair light!\n    And thou enlighten\u2019d earth, so fresh and gay!\n    Ye hills and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains!\n    And ye that live, and move, fair creatures! tell\n    Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here.--\n         _Paradise Lost, b. viii. 273._\n\n            ---- Both have sinn\u2019d! but thou\n    Against God only; I, \u2019gainst God and thee:\n    And to the place of judgement will return.\n    There with my cries importune Heav\u2019n; that all\n    The sentence, from thy head remov\u2019d, may light\n    On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe;\n    Me! Me! only just object of his ire.\n         _Paradise Lost, book x. 930._\n\nShakespear is superior to all other writers in delineating passion. It\nis difficult to say in what part he most excels, whether in moulding\nevery passion to peculiarity of character, in discovering the sentiments\nthat proceed from various tones of passion, or in expressing properly\nevery different sentiment. He imposes not upon his reader, general\ndeclamation and the false coin of unmeaning words, which the bulk of\nwriters deal in. His sentiments are adjusted, with the greatest\npropriety, to the peculiar character and circumstances of the speaker;\nand the propriety is not less perfect betwixt his sentiments and his\ndiction. That this is no exaggeration, will be evident to every one of\ntaste, upon comparing Shakespear with other writers, in similar\npassages. If upon any occasion he fall below himself, it is in those\nscenes where passion enters not. By endeavouring in this case to raise\nhis dialogue above the style of ordinary conversation, he sometimes\ndeviates into intricate thought and obscure expression[67]. Sometimes,\nto throw his language out of the familiar, he employs rhyme. But may it\nnot in some measure excuse Shakespear, I shall not say his works, that\nhe had no pattern, in his own or in any living language, of dialogue\nfitted for the theatre? At the same time, it ought not to escape\nobservation, that the stream clears in its progress, and that in his\nlater plays he has attained the purity and perfection of dialogue; an\nobservation that, with greater certainty than tradition, will direct us\nto arrange his plays in the order of time. This ought to be considered\nby those who magnify every blemish that is discovered in the finest\ngenius for the drama ever the world enjoy\u2019d. They ought also for their\nown sake to consider, that it is easier to discover his blemishes, which\nlie generally at the surface, than his beauties, of which none can have\na thorough relish but those who dive deep into human nature. One thing\nmust be evident to the meanest capacity, that where-ever passion is to\nbe display\u2019d, Nature shows itself strong in him, and is conspicuous by\nthe most delicate propriety of sentiment and expression[68].\n\nI return to my subject from a digression I cannot repent of. That\nperfect harmony which ought to subsist among all the constituent parts\nof a dialogue, is a beauty, not less rare than conspicuous. As to\nexpression in particular, were I to give instances, where, in one or\nother of the respects above mentioned, it corresponds not precisely to\nthe characters, passions, and sentiments, I might from different authors\ncollect volumes. Following therefore the method laid down in the chapter\nof sentiments, I shall confine my citations to the grosser errors, which\nevery writer ought to avoid.\n\nAnd, first, of passion expressed in words flowing in an equal course\nwithout interruption.\n\nIn the chapter above cited, Corneille is censured for the impropriety of\nhis sentiments; and here, for the sake of truth, I am obliged to attack\nhim a second time. Were I to give instances from that author of the\nfault under consideration, I might copy whole tragedies; for he is not\nless faulty in this particular, than in passing upon us his own thoughts\nas a spectator, instead of the genuine sentiments of passion. Nor would\na comparison betwixt him and Shakespear upon the present point, redound\nmore to his honour, than the former upon the sentiments. Racine here is\nless incorrect than Corneille, though many degrees inferior to the\nEnglish author. From Racine I shall gather a few instances. The first\nshall be the description of the sea-monster in his _Ph\u00e6dra_, given by\nTheramene the companion of Hippolytus, and an eye-witness to the\ndisaster. Theramene is represented in terrible agitation, which appears\nfrom the following passage, so boldly figurative as not to be excused\nbut by violent perturbation of mind.\n\n    Le ciel avec horreur voit ce monstre sauvage,\n    La terre s\u2019en \u00e9meut, l\u2019air en est infect\u00e9,\n    Le flot, qui l\u2019apporta, recule epouvant\u00e9.\n\nYet Theramene gives a long pompous connected description of this event,\ndwelling upon every minute circumstance, as if he had been only a cool\nspectator.\n\n    A peine nous sortions des portes de Tr\u00e9zene, _&c._\n         _Act 5. sc. 6._\n\nThe last speech of Atalide, in the tragedy of _Bajazet_, of the same\nauthor, is a continued discourse, and but a faint representation of the\nviolent passion which forc\u2019d her to put an end to her own life.\n\n    Enfin, c\u2019en est donc fait, _&c._\n         _Act 5. sc. last._\n\nThough works, not authors, are the professed subject of this critical\nundertaking, I am tempted by the present speculation, to transgress once\nagain the limits prescribed, and to venture a cursory reflection upon\nthis justly-celebrated author, That he is always sensible, generally\ncorrect, never falls low, maintains a moderate degree of dignity without\nreaching the sublime, paints delicately the tender passions, but is a\nstranger to the true language of enthusiastic or fervid passion.\n\nIf in general the language of violent passion ought to be broken and\ninterrupted, soliloquies ought to be so in a peculiar manner. Language\nis intended by nature for society; and a man when alone, though he\nalways clothes his thoughts in words, seldom gives his words utterance\nunless when prompted by some strong emotion; and even then by starts and\nintervals only[69]. Shakespear\u2019s soliloquies may be justly established\nas a model; for it is not easy to conceive any model more perfect. Of\nhis many incomparable soliloquies, I confine myself to the two\nfollowing, being different in their manner.\n\n    _Hamlet._ Oh, that this too too solid flesh would melt,\n    Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!\n    Or that the Everlasting had not fix\u2019d\n    His cannon \u2019gainst self slaughter? O God! O God!\n    How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable\n    Seem to me all the uses of this world!\n    Fie on\u2019t! O fie! \u2019tis an unweeded garden,\n    That grows to seed: things rank and gross in nature\n    Possess it merely. That it should come to this!\n    But two months dead, nay not so much; not two--\n    So excellent a king, that was, to this,\n    Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother,\n    That he permitted not the winds of heav\u2019n\n    Visit her face too roughly. Heav\u2019n and earth!\n    Must I remember,--why, she would hang on him,\n    As if increase of appetite had grown\n    By what it fed on; yet, within a month----\n    Let me not think----Frailty, thy name is _Woman_!\n    A little month, or ere those shoes were old,\n    With which she follow\u2019d my poor father\u2019s body,\n    Like Niobe, all tears---- why she, ev\u2019n she----\n    (O Heav\u2019n! a beast that wants discourse of reason\n    Would have mourn\u2019d longer----) married with mine uncle,\n    My father\u2019s brother; but no more like my father\n    Than I to Hercules---- Within a month----\n    Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears\n    Had left the flushing in her gauled eyes,\n    She married---- Oh, most wicked speed, to post\n    With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!\n    It is not, nor it cannot come to good.\n    But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.\n         _Hamlet, act 1. sc. 3._\n\n     _Ford._ Hum! ha! is this a vision? is this a dream? do I sleep? Mr\n     Ford, awake; awake Mr Ford; there\u2019s a hole made in your best coat,\n     Mr Ford! this \u2019tis to be married! this \u2019tis to have linen and buck\n     baskets! Well, I will proclaim myself what I am; I will now take\n     the leacher; he is at my house, he cannot \u2019scape me; \u2019tis\n     impossible he should; he cannot creep into a halfpenny-purse, nor\n     into a pepper-box. But lest the devil that guides him should aid\n     him, I will search impossible places; though what I am I cannot\n     avoid, yet to be what I would not, shall not make me tame.\n\n                     _Merry Wives of Windsor, act 3. sc. last._\n\n\n\nThese soliloquies are accurate copies of nature. In a passionate\nsoliloquy one begins with thinking aloud; and the strongest feelings\nonly, are expressed. As the speaker warms, he begins to imagine one\nlistening, and gradually slides into a connected discourse.\n\nHow far distant are soliloquies generally from these models? They are\nindeed for the most part so unhappily executed, as to give disgust\ninstead of pleasure. The first scene of _Iphigenia_ in Tauris discovers\nthat princess, in a soliloquy, gravely reporting to herself her own\nhistory. There is the same impropriety in the first scene of Alcestes,\nand in the other introductions of Euripides, almost without exception.\nNothing can be more ridiculous. It puts one in mind of that ingenious\ndevice in Gothic paintings, of making every figure explain itself by a\nwritten label issuing from its mouth. The description a parasite, in the\n_Eunuch_ of Terence[70], gives of himself in the form of a soliloquy, is\nlively; but against all the rules of propriety; for no man, in his\nordinary state of mind, and upon a familiar subject, ever thinks of\ntalking aloud to himself. The same objection lies against a soliloquy in\nthe _Adelphi_ of the same author[71]. The soliloquy which makes the\nthird scene, act third, of his _Heicyra_, is insufferable; for there\nPamphilus, soberly and circumstantially, relates to himself an adventure\nwhich had happened to him a moment before.\n\nCorneille is not more happy in his soliloquies than in his dialogue.\nTake for a specimen the first scene of _Cinna_.\n\nRacine also is extremely faulty in the same respect. His soliloquies,\nalmost without exception, are regular harangues, a chain completed in\nevery link, without interruption or interval. That of Antiochus in\n_Berenice_[72] resembles a regular pleading, where the parties _pro_ and\n_con_ display their arguments at full length. The following soliloquies\nare equally destitute of propriety: _Bajazet_, act 3. sc. 7.\n_Mithridate_, act 3. sc. 4. & act 4. sc. 5. _Iphigenia_, act 4. sc. 8.\n\nSoliloquies upon lively or interesting subjects, but without any\nturbulence of passion, may be carried on in a continued chain of\nthought. If, for example, the nature and sprightliness of the subject\nprompt a man to speak his thoughts in the form of a dialogue, the\nexpression must be carried on without break or interruption, as in a\ndialogue betwixt two persons. This justifies Falstaff\u2019s soliloquy upon\nhonour:\n\n     What need I be so forward with Death, that calls not on me? Well,\n     \u2019tis no matter, Honour pricks me on. But how if Honour prick me\n     off, when I come on? how then? Can Honour set a leg? No: or an arm?\n     No: or take away the grief of a wound? No: Honour hath no skill in\n     surgery then? No. What is Honour? A word.--What is that word\n     _honour_? Air; a trim reckoning.---- Who hath it? He that dy\u2019d a\n     Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it\n     insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the\n     living? No: Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore, I\u2019ll\n     none of it; honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.\n\n                     _First part Henry IV. act 5. sc. 2._\n\n\n\nAnd even without dialogue, a continued discourse may be justified, where\nthe soliloquy is upon an important subject that makes a strong\nimpression, but without much agitation. For if it be at all excusable to\nthink aloud, it is necessary that the language with the reasoning be\ncarried on in a chain without a broken link. In this view that admirable\nsoliloquy in _Hamlet_ upon life and immortality, being a serene\nmeditation upon the most interesting of all subjects, ought to escape\ncensure. And the same consideration will justify the soliloquy that\nintroduces the 5th act of Addison\u2019s _Cato_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next class of the grosser errors which all writers ought to avoid,\nshall be of language elevated above the tone of the sentiment; of which\ntake the following instances.\n\n    _Zara._ Swift as occasion, I\n    Myself will fly; and earlier than the morn\n    Wake thee to freedom. Now \u2019tis late; and yet\n    Some news few minutes past arriv\u2019d, which seem\u2019d\n    To shake the temper of the King---- Who knows\n    What racking cares disease a monarch\u2019s bed?\n    Or love, that late at night still lights his lamp,\n    And strikes his rays through dusk, and folded lids,\n    Forbidding rest, may stretch his eyes awake,\n    And force their balls abroad at this dead hour.\n    I\u2019ll try.\n         _Mourning Bride, act 3. sc. 4._\n\nThe language here is undoubtedly too pompous and laboured for describing\nso simple a circumstance as absence of sleep. In the following passage,\nthe tone of the language, warm and plaintive, is well suited to the\npassion, which is recent grief. But every one will be sensible, that in\nthe last couplet save one, the tone is changed, and the mind suddenly\nelevated to be let fall as suddenly in the last couplet.\n\n    Il d\u00e9teste \u00e0 jamais sa coupable victoire,\n    Il renonce \u00e0 la cour, aux humains, \u00e0 la gloire;\n    Et se fu\u00efant lui-m\u00eame, au milieu des deserts,\n    Il va cacher sa peine au bout de l\u2019univers;\n    La, soit que le soleil rend\u00eet le jour au monde,\n    Soit qu\u2019il fin\u00eet sa course au vaste sein de l\u2019onde,\n    Sa voix faisoit redire aux echos attendris,\n    Le nom, le triste nom, de son malheureux fils.\n         _Henriade, chant. viii. 229._\n\nLanguage too artificial or too figurative for the gravity, dignity, or\nimportance, of the occasion, may be put in a third class.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nChimene demanding justice against Rodrigue who killed her father,\ninstead of a plain and pathetic expostulation, makes a speech stuffed\nwith the most artificial flowers of rhetoric:\n\n    Sire, mon pere est mort, mes yeux ont v\u00fb son sang\n    Couler \u00e0 gros bouillons de son g\u00e9n\u00e9reux flanc;\n    Ce sang qui tant de fois garantit vos murailles,\n    Ce sang qui tant de fois vous gagna des batailles,\n    Ce sang qui, tout sorti fume encore de courroux\n    De se voir r\u00e9pandu pour d\u2019autres que pour vous,\n    Qu\u2019au milieu des hazards n\u2019osoit verser la guerre,\n    Rodrigue en votre cour vient d\u2019en couvrir la terre.\n    J\u2019ai couru sur le lieu sans force, et sans couleur;\n    Je l\u2019ai trouv\u00e9 sans vie. Excusez ma douleur,\n    Sire; la voix me manque \u00e0 ce r\u00e9cit funeste,\n    Mes pleurs et mes soupirs vous diront mieux le reste.\n\nAnd again:\n\n    Son flanc etoit ouvert, et, pour mieux m\u2019emouvoir,\n    Son sang sur la poussi\u00e9re \u00e9crivoit mon devoire;\n    Ou plut\u00f4t sa valeur en cet \u00e9tat r\u00e9duite\n    Me parloit par sa plaie, et h\u00e2toit ma pursuite,\n    Et pour se faire entendre au plus juste des Rois,\n    Par cette triste bouche elle empruntoit ma voix.\n         _Act 2. sc. 9._\n\nNothing can be contrived in language more averse to the tone of the\npassion than this florid speech. I should imagine it more apt to provoke\nlaughter than to inspire concern or pity.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn a fourth class shall be given specimens of language too light or airy\nfor a severe passion.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe agony a mother must feel upon the savage murder of two hopeful sons,\nrejects all imagery and figurative expression, as discordant in the\nhighest degree. Therefore the following passage is undoubtedly in a bad\ntaste:\n\n    _Queen._ Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes,\n    My unblown flow\u2019rs, new-appearing sweets!\n    If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,\n    And be not fixt in doom perpetual,\n    Hover about me with your airy wings,\n    And hear your mother\u2019s lamentation.\n         _Richard III. act 4. sc. 4._\n\nAgain,\n\n    _K. Philip._ You are as fond of grief as of your child.\n\n    _Constance._ Grief fills the room up of my absent child,\n    Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,\n    Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,\n    Remembers me of all his gracious parts,\n    Stuffs out his vacant garment with his form;\n    Then have I reason to be fond of grief.\n         _King John, act 3. sc. 6._\n\nA thought that turns upon the expression instead of the subject,\ncommonly called _a play of words_, being low and childish, is unworthy\nof any composition, whether gay or serious, that pretends to the\nsmallest share of dignity. Thoughts of this kind make a fifth class.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the _Aminta_ of Tasso[73] the lover falls into a mere play of words,\ndemanding how he who had lost himself, could find a mistress. And for\nthe same reason, the following passage in Corneille has been generally\ncondemned:\n\n    _Chimene._ Mon pere est mort, Elvire, et la premi\u00e9re \u00e9p\u00e9e\n    Dont s\u2019est arm\u00e9 Rodrigue \u00e0 sa trame coup\u00e9e.\n    Pleurez, pleurez, mes yeux, et fondez-vous en eau,\n    La moiti\u00e9 de ma vie a mis l\u2019autre au tombeau,\n    Et m\u2019oblige \u00e0 venger, apr\u00e9s ce coup funeste,\n    Celle que je n\u2019ai plus, sur celle qui me reste.\n         _Cid, act 3. sc. 3._\n\n    To die is to be banish\u2019d from myself:\n    And Sylvia is myself; banish\u2019d from her,\n    Is self from self; a deadly banishment!\n         _Two Gentlemen of Verona, act 3. sc. 3._\n\n    _Countess._ I pray thee, Lady, have a better cheer:\n    If thou ingrossest all the griefs as thine,\n    Thou robb\u2019st me of a moiety.\n         _All\u2019s well that ends well, act 3. sc. 3._\n\n    _K. Henry._ O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!\n    When that my care could not with-hold thy riots,\n    What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?\n    O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,\n    Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.\n         _Second part, Henry IV. act 4. sc. 11._\n\n    Cruda Amarilli, che col nome ancora\n    D\u2019amar, ahi lasso, amaramente insegni.\n         _Pastor Fido, act 1. sc. 2._\n\nAntony, speaking of Julius C\u00e6sar:\n\n    O world! thou wast the forest of this hart;\n    And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.\n    How like a deer, stricken by many princes,\n    Dost thou here lie!\n         _Julius C\u00e6sar, act 3. sc. 3._\n\nPlaying thus with the sound of words, which is still worse than a pun,\nis the meanest of all conceits. But Shakespear, when he descends to a\nplay of words, is not always in the wrong; for it is done sometimes to\ndenote a peculiar character; as is the following passage.\n\n    _King Philip._ What say\u2019st thou, boy? look in the lady\u2019s face.\n\n    _Lewis._ I do, my Lord, and in her eye I find\n    A wonder, or a wond\u2019rous miracle;\n    The shadow of myself form\u2019d in her eye;\n    Which being but the shadow of your son,\n    Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow.\n    I do protest, I never lov\u2019d myself,\n    Till now infixed I beheld myself\n    Drawn in the flatt\u2019ring table of her eye.\n\n    _Faulconbridge._ Drawn in the flatt\u2019ring table of her eye!\n    Hang\u2019d in the frowning wrinkle of her brow!\n    And quarter\u2019d in her heart! he doth espy\n    Himself Love\u2019s traitor: this is pity now,\n    That hang\u2019d, and drawn, and quarter\u2019d, there should be,\n    In such a love so vile a lout as he.\n         _King John, act. 2. sc. 5._\n\nA jingle of words is the lowest species of this low wit; which is scarce\nsufferable in any case, and least of all in an heroic poem. And yet\nMilton in some instances has descended to this puerility:\n\n    And brought into the world a world of wo.\n   ---- Begirt th\u2019 almighty throne\n    Beseeching or besieging----\n    Which tempted our attempt----\n    At one slight bound high overleap\u2019d all bound,\n                   ---- With a shout\n    Loud as from numbers without number.\n\nOne should think it unnecessary to enter a caveat against an expression\nthat has no meaning, or no distinct meaning; and yet somewhat of this\nkind may be found even among good writers. These make a sixth class.\n\n    _Sebastian._ I beg no pity for this mould\u2019ring clay.\n    For if you give it burial, there it takes\n    Possession of your earth:\n    If burnt and scatter\u2019d in the air; the winds\n    That strow my dust, diffuse my royalty,\n    And spread me o\u2019er your clime; for where one atom\n    Of mine shall light, know there Sebastian reigns.\n         _Dryden, Don Sebastian King of Portugal, act 1._\n\n    _Cleopatra._ Now, what news my Charmion?\n    Will he be kind? and will he not forsake me?\n    Am I to live or die? nay, do I live?\n    Or am I dead? for when he gave his answer,\n    Fate took the word, and then I liv\u2019d or dy\u2019d.\n         _Dryden, All for Love, act 2._\n\n    If she be coy, and scorn my noble fire,\n      If her chill heart I cannot move;\n      Why, I\u2019ll enjoy the very love,\n    And make a mistress of my own desire.\n         _Cowley, poem inscribed_, The Request.\n\nHis whole poem, inscribed, _My Picture_, is a jargon of the same kind:\n\n            ---- \u2019Tis he, they cry, by whom\n    Not men, but war itself is overcome.\n         _Indian Queen._\n\nSuch empty expressions are finely ridiculed in the _Rehearsal_:\n\n    Was\u2019t not unjust to ravish hence her breath,\n    And in life\u2019s stead to leave us nought but death?\n         _Act 4. sc 1._\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XVIII.\n\nBeauty of Language.\n\n\nOf all the fine arts, painting only and sculpture are in their nature\nimitative. A field laid out with taste, is not, properly speaking, a\ncopy or imitation of nature, but nature itself embellished. Architecture\ndeals in originals, and copies not from nature. Sound and motion may in\nsome measure be imitated by music; but for the most part music, like\narchitecture, deals in originals. Language has no archetype in nature,\nmore than music or architecture; unless where, like music, it is\nimitative of sound or motion. In the description of particular sounds,\nlanguage sometimes happily furnisheth words, which, beside their\ncustomary power of exciting ideas, resemble by their softness or\nharshness the sound described: and there are words, which, by the\ncelerity or slowness of pronunciation, have some resemblance to the\nmotion they signify. This imitative power of words goes one step\nfarther. The loftiness of some words, makes them proper symbols of lofty\nideas: a rough subject is imitated by harsh-sounding words; and words of\nmany syllables pronounced slow and smooth, are naturally expressive of\ngrief and melancholy. Words have a separate effect on the mind,\nabstracting from their signification and from their imitative power.\nThey are more or less agreeable to the ear, by the roundness, sweetness,\nfaintness, or roughness, of their tones.\n\nThese are beauties, but not of the first rank: They are relished by\nthose only, who have more delicacy of sensation than belongs to the bulk\nof mankind. Language possesseth a beauty superior greatly in degree, of\nwhich we are eminently conscious when a thought is communicated in a\nstrong and lively manner. This beauty of language, arising from its\npower of expressing thought, is apt to be confounded with the beauty of\nthe thought expressed; which beauty, by a natural transition of feeling\namong things intimately connected, is convey\u2019d to the expression, and\nmakes it appear more beautiful[74]. But these beauties, if we wish to\nthink accurately, must be carefully distinguished from each other. They\nare indeed so distinct, that we sometimes are conscious of the highest\npleasure language can afford, when the subject expressed is\ndisagreeable. A thing that is loathsome, or a scene of horror to make\none\u2019s hair stand on end, may be described in the liveliest manner. In\nthis case, the disagreeableness of the subject, doth not even obscure\nthe agreeableness of the description. The causes of the original beauty\nof language considered as significant, which is a branch of the present\nsubject, will be explained in their order. I shall only at present\nobserve, that this beauty is the beauty of means fitted to an end,\n_viz._ the communication of thought. And hence it evidently appears,\nthat of several expressions all conveying the same thought, the most\nbeautiful, in the sense now mentioned, is that which in the most\nperfect manner answers its end.\n\nThe several beauties of language above mentioned, being of different\nkinds and distinguishable from each other, ought to be handled\nseparately. I shall begin with those beauties of language which arise\nfrom sound; after which will follow the beauties of language considered\nas significant. This order appears natural; for the sound of a word is\nattended to, before we consider its signification. In a third section\ncome those singular beauties of language that are derived from a\nresemblance betwixt sound and signification. The beauties of verse I\npropose to handle in the last section. For though the foregoing beauties\nare found in verse as well as in prose; yet verse has many peculiar\nbeauties, which for the sake of perspicuity must be brought under one\nview. And versification, at any rate, is a subject of so great\nimportance, as to deserve a place by itself.\n\n\nSECT. I.\n\n_Beauty of language with respect to sound._\n\nI propose to handle this subject in the following order, which appears\nthe most natural. The sounds of the different letters come first. Next,\nthese sounds as united in syllables. Third, syllables united in words.\nFourth, words united in a period. And in the last place, periods united\nin a discourse.\n\nWith respect to the first article, every vowel is sounded by a single\nexpiration of air from the wind-pipe through the cavity of the mouth;\nand by varying this cavity, the different vowels are sounded. The air in\npassing through cavities differing in size, produceth various sounds,\nsome high or sharp, some low or flat. A small cavity occasions a high\nsound, a large cavity a low sound. The five vowels accordingly,\npronounced with the same extension of the wind-pipe, but with different\nopenings of the mouth, form a regular series of sounds, descending from\nhigh to low, in the following order, _i_, _e_, _a_[75], _o_, _u_. Each\nof these sounds is agreeable to the ear. And if it be inquired which of\nthem is the most agreeable, it is perhaps the safest side to hold, that\nthere is no universal preference of any one before the rest. Probably\nthose vowels which are farthest removed from the extremes, will\ngenerally be the most relished. This is all I have to remark upon the\nfirst article. For consonants being letters which of themselves have no\nsound, have no other power but to form articulate sounds in conjunction\nwith vowels; and every such articulate sound being a syllable,\nconsonants come naturally under the second article. To which therefore\nwe proceed.\n\nAll consonants are pronounced with a less cavity than any of the vowels;\nand consequently they contribute to form a sound still more sharp than\nthe sharpest vowel pronounced single. Hence it follows, that every\narticulate sound into which a consonant enters, must necessarily be\ndouble, though pronounced with one expiration of air, or with one breath\nas commonly expressed. The reason is, that though two sounds readily\nunite; yet where they differ in tone, both of them must be heard if\nneither of them be suppressed. For the same reason, every syllable must\nbe composed of as many sounds as there are letters, supposing every\nletter to be distinctly pronounced.\n\nWe next inquire, how far articulate sounds into which consonants enter,\nare agreeable to the ear. With respect to this point, there is a noted\nobservation, that all sounds of difficult pronunciation are to the ear\nharsh in proportion. Few tongues are so polished as entirely to have\nrejected sounds that are pronounced with difficulty; and such sounds\nmust in some measure be disagreeable. But with respect to agreeable\nsounds, it appears, that a double sound is always more agreeable than a\nsingle sound. Every one who has an ear must be sensible, that the\ndiphthongs _oi_ or _ai_ are more agreeable than any of these vowels\npronounced singly. And the same holds where a consonant enters into the\ndouble sound. The syllable _le_ has a more agreeable sound than the\nvowel _e_ or than any vowel. And in support of experience, a\nsatisfactory argument may be drawn from the wisdom of Providence. Speech\nis bestowed upon man, to qualify him for society. The provision he hath\nof articulate sounds, is proportioned to the use he hath for them. But\nif sounds that are agreeable singly were not also agreeable in\nconjunction, the necessity of a painful selection would render language\nintricate and difficult to be attained in any perfection. And this\nselection, at the same time, would tend to abridge the number of useful\nsounds, so as perhaps not to leave sufficient for answering the\ndifferent ends of language.\n\nIn this view, the harmony of pronunciation differs widely from that of\nmusic properly so called. In the latter are discovered many sounds\nsingly agreeable, that in conjunction are extremely disagreeable; none\nbut what are called _concordant sounds_ having a good effect in\nconjunction. In the former, all sounds singly agreeable are in\nconjunction concordant; and ought to be, in order to fulfil the\npurposes of language.\n\nHaving discussed syllables, we proceed to words; which make a third\narticle. Monosyllables belong to the former head. Polysyllables open a\ndifferent scene. In a cursory view, one will readily imagine, that the\neffect a word hath upon the ear, must depend entirely upon the\nagreeableness or disagreeableness of its component syllables. In part it\ndoth; but not entirely; for we must also take under consideration the\neffect that a number of syllables composing a word have in succession.\nIn the first place, syllables in immediate succession, pronounced, each\nof them, with the same or nearly the same aperture of the mouth, produce\na weak and imperfect sound; witness the French words _d\u00e9t\u00eat\u00e9_\n(detested), _dit-il_ (says he), _patetique_ (pathetic). On the other\nhand, a syllable of the greatest aperture succeeding one of the\nsmallest, or the opposite, makes a succession, which, because of its\nremarkable disagreeableness, is distinguished by a proper name, _viz.\nhiatus_. The most agreeable succession, is, where the cavity is\nincreased and diminished alternately by moderate intervals. Secondly,\nwords consisting wholly of syllables pronounced slow or of syllables\npronounced quick, commonly called _long_ and _short syllables_, have\nlittle melody in them. Witness the words _petitioner_, _fruiterer_,\n_dizziness_. On the other hand, the intermixture of long and short\nsyllables is remarkably agreeable; for example, _degree_, _repent_,\n_wonderful_, _altitude_, _rapidity_, _independent_, _impetuosity_. The\ncause will be explained afterward, in treating of versification.\n\nDistinguishable from the beauties above mentioned, there is a beauty of\nsome words which arises from their signification. When the emotion\nraised by the length or shortness, the roughness or smoothness, of the\nsound, resembles in any degree what is raised by the sense, we feel a\nvery remarkable pleasure. But this subject belongs to the third section.\n\nThe foregoing observations afford a standard to every nation, for\nestimating, pretty accurately, the comparative merit of the words that\nenter into their own language. And though at first view they may be\nthought equally useful for estimating the comparative merit of different\nlanguages; yet this holds not in fact, because no person can readily be\nfound who is sufficiently qualified to apply the standard. What I mean\nis, that different nations judge differently of the harshness or\nsmoothness of articulate sounds: a sound, harsh and disagreeable to an\nItalian, may be abundantly smooth to a northern ear. Where are we to\nfind a judge to determine this controversy? and supposing a judge, upon\nwhat principle is his decision to be founded? The case here is precisely\nthe same as in behaviour and manners. Plain-dealing and sincerity,\nliberty in words and actions, form the character of one people.\nPoliteness, reserve, and a total disguise of every sentiment that can\ngive offence, form the character of another people. To each the manners\nof the other are disagreeable. An effeminate mind cannot bear the least\nof that roughness and severity, which is generally esteemed manly when\nexerted upon proper occasions. Neither can an effeminate ear bear the\nleast harshness in words that are deemed nervous and sounding by those\naccustomed to a rougher tone of language. Must we then relinquish all\nthoughts of comparing languages in the point of roughness and\nsmoothness, as a fruitless inquiry? Not altogether so; for we may\nproceed a certain length, though without hope of an ultimate decision. A\nlanguage with difficulty pronounced even by natives, must yield the\npreference to a smoother language. Again, supposing two languages\npronounced with equal facility by natives, the preference, in my\njudgement, ought to be in favour of the rougher language; provided it be\nalso stored with a competent share of more mellow sounds. This will be\nevident from attending to the different effects that articulate sound\nhath upon the mind. A smooth gliding sound is agreeable, by smoothing\nthe mind and lulling it to rest. A rough bold sound, on the contrary,\nanimates the mind. The effort perceived in pronouncing, is communicated\nto the hearers: they feel in their own minds a similar effort, which\nrouses their attention and disposes them to action. I must add another\nconsideration. The agreeableness of contrast in the rougher language,\nfor which the great variety of sounds gives ample opportunity, must,\neven in an effeminate ear, prevail over the more uniform sounds of the\nsmoother language[76]. This appears to me all that can be safely\ndetermined upon the present point. With respect to the other\ncircumstances that constitute the beauty of words, the standard above\nmentioned is infallible when apply\u2019d to foreign languages as well as to\nour own. For every man, whatever be his mother-tongue, is equally\ncapable to judge of the length or shortness of words, of the alternate\nopening and closing of the mouth in speaking, and of the relation which\nthe sound bears to the sense. In these particulars, the judgement is\nsusceptible of no prejudice from custom, at least of no invincible\nprejudice.\n\nThat the English tongue, originally harsh, is at present much softened\nby dropping in the pronunciation many redundant consonants, is\nundoubtedly true. That it is not capable of being farther mellowed,\nwithout suffering in its force and energy, will scarce be thought by any\none who possesses an ear. And yet such in Britain is the propensity for\ndispatch, that overlooking the majesty of words composed of many\nsyllables aptly connected, the prevailing taste is, to shorten words,\neven at the expence of making them disagreeable to the ear and harsh in\nthe pronunciation. But I have no occasion to insist upon this article,\nbeing prevented by an excellent writer, who possessed, if any man ever\ndid, the true genius of the English tongue[77]. I cannot however forbear\nurging one observation borrowed from that author. Several tenses of our\nverbs are formed by adding the final syllable _ed_, which, being a weak\nsound, has remarkably the worse effect by possessing the most\nconspicuous place in the word. Upon that account, the vowel is in common\nspeech generally suppressed, and the consonant is added to the foregoing\nsyllable. Hence the following rugged sounds, _drudg\u2019d_, _disturb\u2019d_,\n_rebuk\u2019d_, _fledg\u2019d_. It is still less excuseable to follow this\npractice in writing; for the hurry of speaking may excuse what is\naltogether improper in a composition of any value. The syllable _ed_, it\nis true, makes but a poor figure at the end of a word: but we ought to\nsubmit to that defect, rather than multiply the number of harsh words,\nwhich, after all that has been done, bear an over-proportion in our\ntongue. The author above mentioned, by showing a good example, did all\nin his power to restore that syllable; and he well deserves to be\nimitated. Some exceptions however I would make. A word which signifies\nlabour, or any thing harsh or rugged, ought not to be smooth. Therefore\n_forc\u2019d_, with an apostrophe, is better than _forced_, without it.\nAnother exception is, where the penult syllable ends with a vowel. In\nthat case the final syllable _ed_ may be apostrophized without making\nthe word harsh. Examples, _betray\u2019d_, _carry\u2019d_, _destroy\u2019d_,\n_employ\u2019d_.\n\nThe article next in order, is to consider the music of words as united\nin a period. And as the arrangement of words in succession so as to\nafford the greatest pleasure to the ear, depends on principles pretty\nremote from common view, it will be necessary to premise some general\nobservations upon the effect that a number of objects have upon the mind\nwhen they are placed in an increasing or decreasing series. The effect\nof such a series will be very different, according as resemblance or\ncontrast prevails. Where the members of a series vary by small\ndifferences, resemblance prevails; which, in ascending, makes us\nconceive the second object of no greater size than the first, the third\nof no greater size than the second, and so of the rest. This diminisheth\nin appearance the size of the whole. Again, when beginning at the\nlargest object, we proceed gradually to the least, resemblance makes us\nimagine the second as large as the first, and the third as large as the\nsecond; which in appearance magnifies every object of the series except\nthe first. On the other hand, in a series varying by great differences,\nwhere contrast prevails, the effects are directly opposite. A large\nobject succeeding a small one of the same kind, appears by the\nopposition larger than usual: and a small object, for the same reason,\nsucceeding one that is large, appears less than usual[78]. Hence a\nremarkable pleasure in viewing a series ascending by large intervals;\ndirectly opposite to what we feel when the intervals are small.\nBeginning at the smallest object of a series where contrast prevails,\nthis object has the same effect upon the mind as if it stood single\nwithout making a part of the series. But this is not the case of the\nsecond object, which by means of contrast makes a much greater figure\nthan when viewed singly and apart; and the same effect is perceived in\nascending progressively, till we arrive at the last object. The direct\ncontrary effect is produced in descending; for in this direction, every\nobject, except the first, makes a less figure than when viewed\nseparately and independent of the series. We may then lay down as a\nmaxim, which will hold in the composition of language as well as of\nother subjects, That a strong impulse succeeding a weak, makes a double\nimpression on the mind; and that a weak impulse succeeding a strong,\nmakes scarce any impression.\n\nAfter establishing this maxim, we can be at no loss about its\napplication to the subject in hand. The following rule is laid down by\nDiomedes[79]. \u201cIn verbis observandum est, ne a majoribus ad minora\ndescendat oratio; melius enim dicitur, _Vir est optimus_, quam, _Vir\noptimus est_.\u201d This rule is applicable not only to single words, but\nequally to entire members of a period, which, according to our author\u2019s\nexpression, ought not more than single words to proceed from the greater\nto the less, but from the less to the greater. In arranging the members\nof a period, no writer equals Cicero. The beauty of the following\nexamples out of many, will not suffer me to slur them over by a\nreference.\n\n    Quicum qu\u00e6stor fueram,\n    Quicum me sors consuetudoque majorum,\n    Quicum me Deorum hominumque judicium conjunxerat.\n\nAgain:\n\n    Habet honorem quem petimus,\n    Habet spem quam pr\u00e6positam nobis habemus,\n    Habet existimationem, multo sudore, labore, vigiliisque, collectam.\n\nAgain:\n\n    Eripite nos ex miseriis,\n    Eripite nos ex faucibus eorum,\n    Quorum crudelitas, nostro sanguine non potest expleri.\n         _De oratore, l. 1. \u00a7 52._\n\nThis order of words or members gradually increasing in length, may, so\nfar as concerns the pleasure of sound singly, be denominated _a climax\nin sound_.\n\nThe last article is the music of periods as united in a discourse; which\nshall be dispatched in a very few words. By no other human means is it\npossible to present to the mind, such a number of objects and in so\nswift a succession, as by speaking or writing. And for that reason,\nvariety ought more to be studied in these, than in any other sort of\ncomposition. Hence a rule regarding the arrangement of the members of\ndifferent periods with relation to each other, That to avoid a tedious\nuniformity of sound and cadence, the arrangement, the cadence, and the\nlength of these members, ought to be diversified as much as possible.\nAnd if the members of different periods be sufficiently diversified, the\nperiods themselves will be equally so.\n\n\nSECT. II.\n\n_Beauty of language with respect to signification._\n\nIt is well said by a noted writer[80], \u201cThat by means of speech we can\ndivert our sorrows, mingle our mirth, impart our secrets, communicate\nour counsels, and make mutual compacts and agreements to supply and\nassist each other.\u201d Considering speech as contributing thus to so many\ngood purposes, it follows, that the chusing words which have an accurate\nmeaning, and tend to convey clear and distinct ideas, must be one of its\ncapital beauties. This cause of beauty, is too extensive to be handled\nas a branch of any other subject. To ascertain with accuracy even the\nproper meaning of words, not to talk of their figurative power, would\nrequire a large volume; an useful work indeed; but not to be attempted\nwithout a large stock of time, study, and reflection. This branch\ntherefore of the subject I must humbly decline. Nor do I propose to\nexhaust all the other beauties of language with respect to\nsignification. The reader, in a work like the present, cannot fairly\nexpect more than a slight sketch of those that make the greatest figure.\nThis is a task which I attempt the more willingly, as it appears to be\nconnected with some principles in human nature; and the rules I shall\nhave occasion to lay down, will, if I judge aright, be agreeable\nillustrations of these principles. Every subject must be of importance\nthat tends in any measure to unfold the human heart; for what other\nscience is more worthy of human beings?\n\nThe present subject is so extensive, that, to prevent confusion, it must\nbe divided into parts; and what follows suggests a division into two\nparts. In every period, two things are to be regarded, equally capital;\nfirst, the words of which the period is composed; next, the arrangement\nof these words. The former resemble the stones that compose a building;\nand the latter resembles the order in which these stones are placed.\nHence the beauty of language with respect to its meaning, may not\nimproperly be distinguished into two kinds. The first consists in a\nright choice of words or materials for constructing the period; and the\nother consists in a due arrangement of these words or materials. I shall\nbegin with rules that direct us to a right choice of words, and then\nproceed to rules that concern their arrangement.\n\nAnd with respect to the former, communication of thought being the\nprincipal end of language, it is a rule, That perspicuity ought not to\nbe sacrificed to any other beauty whatever. If it should be doubted\nwhether perspicuity be a positive beauty, it cannot be doubted, that the\nwant of it is the greatest defect. Nothing therefore in the structure of\nlanguage ought more to be studied, than to prevent all obscurity in the\nexpression; for to have no meaning, is but one degree worse than to\nexpress it so as not to be understood. Want of perspicuity from a wrong\narrangement, belongs to the next branch. I shall give a few examples\nwhere the obscurity arises from a wrong choice of words; and as this\ndefect is so common in ordinary writers as to make examples from them\nunnecessary, I confine myself to the most celebrated authors.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLivy, speaking of a rout after a battle,\n\n    Multique in ruina majore quam fuga oppressi obtruncatique.\n         _L. 4. \u00a7 46._\n\n    Unde tibi reditum _certo subtemine_ Parc\u00e6\n    Rupere.\n         _Horace, epod. xiii. 22._.\n\n    Qui pers\u00e6pe cava testudine flevit amorem,\n    _Non elaboratum ad pedem_.\n         _Horace, epod. xiv. 11._\n\n    Me fabulos\u00e6 Vulture in Appulo,\n    Altricis extra limen Apuli\u00e6,\n      Ludo, fatigatumque _somno_,\n        Fronde nova puerum palumbes\n      Texere.\n         _Horace, Carm. l. 3. ode 4._\n\n    Pur\u00e6 rivus aqu\u00e6, silvaque jugerum\n    Paucorum, et segetis certa fides me\u00e6,\n    Fulgentem imperio fertilis Afric\u00e6\n      Fallit sorte beatior.\n         _Horace, Carm. l. 3. ode 16._\n\n    Cum fas atque nefas exiguo _fine_ libidinum\n    Discernunt avidi.\n         _Horace, Carm. l. 1. ode 18._\n\n    Ac spem fronte serenat.\n         _\u00c6neid iv. 477._\n\nThere is want of neatness even in an ambiguity so slight as that is\nwhich arises from the construction merely; as where the period commences\nwith a member which is conceived to be in the nominative case, and which\nafterward is found to be in the accusative. Example: \u201cSome emotions more\npeculiarly connected with the fine arts, I propose to handle in separate\nchapters[81].\u201d Better thus: \u201cSome emotions more peculiarly connected\nwith the fine arts, are proposed to be handled in separate chapters.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe rule next in order, because next in importance, is, That the\nlanguage ought to correspond to the subject. Grand or heroic actions or\nsentiments require elevated language: tender sentiments ought to be\nexpressed in words soft and flowing; and plain language devoid of\nornament, is adapted to subjects grave and didactic. Language may be\nconsidered as the dress of thought; and where the one is not suited to\nthe other, we are sensible of incongruity, in the same manner as where a\njudge is dressed like a fop, or a peasant like a man of quality. The\nintimate connection that words have with their meaning, requires that\nboth be in the same tone. Or, to express the thing more plainly, the\nimpression made by the words ought as nearly as possible to resemble the\nimpression made by the thought. The similar emotions mix sweetly in the\nmind, and augment the pleasure[82]. On the other hand, where the\nimpressions made by the thought and the words are dissimilar, they are\nforc\u2019d into a sort of unnatural union, which is disagreeable[83].\n\nIn the preceding chapter, concerning the language of passion, I had\noccasion to give many examples of deviations from this rule with regard\nto the manner of expressing passions and their sentiments. But as the\nrule concerns the manner of expressing thoughts and ideas of all kinds,\nit has an extensive influence in directing us to the choice of proper\nmaterials. In that view it must be branched out into several\nparticulars. And I must observe, in the first place, that to write with\nelegance, it is not sufficient to express barely the conjunction or\ndisjunction of the members of the thought. It is a beauty to find a\nsimilar conjunction or disjunction in the words. This may be illustrated\nby a familiar example. When we have occasion to mention the intimate\nconnection that the soul has with the body, the expression ought to be\n_the soul and body_; because the particle _the_, relative to both, makes\na connection in the expression, which resembles in some degree the\nconnection in the thought. But when the soul is distinguished from the\nbody, it is better to say _the soul and the body_, because the\ndisjunction in the words resembles the disjunction in the thought. In\nthe following examples the connection in the thought is happily\nimitated in the expression.\n\n     Constituit agmen; et expedire tela animosque, equitibus jussis,\n     _&c._\n\n                     _Livy, l. 38. \u00a7 25._\n\n\n\nAgain:\n\n     Quum ex paucis quotidie aliqui corum caderent aut vulnerarentur, et\n     qui superarent, fessi et corporibus et animis essent, _&c._\n\n                     _Livy, l. 38. \u00a7 29._\n\n\n\n    Post acer Mnestheus adducto constitit arcu,\n    Alta petens, pariterque oculos telumque tetendit.\n         _\u00c6neid, l. v. 507._\n\nThe following passage of Tacitus appears to me not so happy. It\napproaches to wit by connecting in the foregoing manner things but\nslightly related, which is not altogether suitable to the dignity or\ngravity of history.\n\n     Germania omnis a Galliis, Rh\u00e6tiisque, et Pannoniis, Rheno et\n     Danubio fluminibus; a Sarmatis Dacisque, mutuo metu aut montibus\n     separatur.\n\n                     _De moribus Germanorum._\n\n\n\nI am more doubtful about this other instance:\n\n            ---- The fiend look\u2019d up, and knew\n    His mounted scale aloft; nor more, but fled\n    Murm\u2019ring, and with him fled the shades of night.\n         _Paradise Lost, B. 4. at the end._\n\nI shall add some other examples where the opposition in the thought is\nimitated in the words; an imitation that is distinguished by the name of\n_antithesis_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSpeaking of Coriolanus soliciting the people to be made consul:\n\n    With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds.\n         _Coriolanus._\n\n     Had you rather C\u00e6sar were living, and die all slaves; than that\n     C\u00e6sar were dead, to live all free men?\n\n                     _Julius C\u00e6sar._\n\n\n\n     He hath cool\u2019d my friends and heated mine enemies.\n\n                     _Shakespear._\n\n\n\n    Why, if two gods should play some _heav\u2019nly_ match,\n    And on the wager lay two _earthly_ women,\n    And Portia one, there must be something else\n    Pawn\u2019d with the other; for the poor rude world\n    Hath not her fellow.\n         _Merchant of Venice, act 3. sc. 6._\n\nThis rule may be extended to govern the construction of sentences or\nperiods. A sentence or period in language ought to express one entire\nthought or mental proposition; and different thoughts ought to be\nseparated in the expression by placing them in different sentences or\nperiods. It is therefore offending against neatness, to crowd into one\nperiod entire thoughts which require more than one; for this is\nconjoining in language things that are separated in reality; and\nconsequently rejecting that uniformity which ought to be preserved\nbetwixt thought and expression. Of errors against this rule take the\nfollowing examples.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nC\u00e6sar, describing the Suevi:\n\n     Atque in eam se consuetudinem adduxerunt, ut locis frigidissimis,\n     neque vestitus, pr\u00e6ter pelles, habeant quidquam, quarum, propter\n     exiguitatem, magna est corporis pars operta, et laventur in\n     fluminibus.\n\n                     _Commentaria, l. 4. prin._\n\n\n\nBurnet, in the history of his own times, giving Lord Sunderland\u2019s\ncharacter, says,\n\n     His own notions were always good; but he was a man of great\n     expence.\n\n     I have seen a woman\u2019s face break out in heats, as she has been\n     talking against a great lord, whom she had never seen in her life;\n     and indeed never knew a party-woman that kept her beauty for a\n     twelvemonth.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 57.\n\n\n\nLord Bolingbroke, speaking of Strada:\n\n     I single him out among the moderns, because he had the foolish\n     presumption to censure Tacitus, and to write history himself: and\n     your Lordship will forgive this short excursion in honour of a\n     favourite author.\n\n                     _Letters on history, vol. 1. let. 5._\n\n     It seems to me, that in order to maintain the moral system of the\n     world at a certain point, far below that of ideal perfection, (for\n     we are made capable of conceiving what we are incapable of\n     attaining), but however sufficient upon the whole to constitute a\n     state easy and happy, or at the worst tolerable: I say, it seems to\n     me, that the author of nature has thought fit to mingle from time\n     to time, among the societies of men, a few, and but a few, of those\n     on whom he is graciously pleased to bestow a larger proportion of\n     the ethereal spirit than is given in the ordinary course of his\n     providence to the sons of men.\n\n                     _Bolingbroke, on the spirit of patriotism, let. 1._\n\n\n\nTo crowd into a single member of a period, different subjects, is still\nworse than to crowd them into one period.\n\n              ---- Trojam, genitore Adamasto\n    Paupere (mansissetque utinam fortuna) profectus.\n         _\u00c6neid. iii. 614._\n\nWhere two things are so connected as to require but a copulative, it is\npleasant to find a resemblance in the members of the period, were it\neven so slight as where both begin with the same letter:\n\n     The peacock, in all his pride, does not display half the colour\n     that appears in the garments of a British lady, when she is either\n     dressed for a ball or a birth-day.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 265.\n\n\n\n     Had not my dog of a steward run away as he did, without making up\n     his accounts, I had still been immersed in sin and sea-coal.\n\n                     _Ibid._ N\u00ba. 530.\n\n\n\n    My life\u2019s companion, and my bosom-friend,\n    One faith, one fame, one fate shall both attend.\n         _Dryden, Translation of \u00c6neid._\n\nThere is obviously a sensible defect in neatness when uniformity is in\nthis case totally neglected[84]; witness the following example, where\nthe construction of two members connected by a copulative is\nunnecessarily varied.\n\n     For it is confidently reported, that two young gentlemen of real\n     hopes, bright wit, and profound judgment, who upon a thorough\n     examination of causes and effects, and by the mere force of natural\n     abilities, without the least tincture of learning, have made a\n     discovery that there was no God, and _generously communicating_\n     their thoughts for the good of the public, were some time ago, by\n     an unparallelled severity, and upon I know not what obsolete law,\n     broke for blasphemy[85]. [Better thus]: Having made a discovery\n     that there was no God, and having generously communicated their\n     thoughts for the good of the public, were some time ago, _&c._\n\n     He had been guilty of a fault, for which his master would have put\n     him to death, had he not found an opportunity to escape out of his\n     hands, and _fled_ into the deserts of Numidia.\n\n                     _Guardian_, N\u00ba 139.\n\n\n\n     If all the ends of the revolution are already obtained, it is not\n     only impertinent to argue for obtaining any of them, but _factious\n     designs might be imputed_, and the name of incendiary be applied\n     with some colour, perhaps, to any one who should persist in\n     pressing this point.\n\n                     _Dissertation upon parties, Dedication._\n\n\n\nIt is even unpleasant to find a negative and affirmative proposition\nconnected by a copulative.\n\n    Nec excitatur classico miles truci,\n      Nec horret iratum mare;\n    Forumque vitat, et superba civium\n      Potentiorum limina.\n         _Horace, Epod. 2. l. 5._\n\n    If it appear not plain, and prove untrue,\n    Deadly divorce step between me and you.\n         _Shakespear._\n\nAn artificial connection among the words, is undoubtedly a beauty when\nit represents any peculiar connection among the constituent parts of the\nthought; but where there is no such connection, it is a positive\ndeformity, because it makes a discordance betwixt the thought and\nexpression. For the same reason, we ought also to avoid every artificial\nopposition of words where there is none in the thought. This last,\ntermed _verbal antithesis_, is studied by writers of no taste; and is\nrelished by readers of the same stamp, because of a certain degree of\nliveliness in it. They do not consider how incongruous it is, in a grave\ncomposition, to cheat the reader, and to make him expect a contrast in\nthe thought, which upon examination is not found there.\n\n    A light wife doth make a heavy husband.\n         _Merchant of Venice._\n\nHere is a studied opposition in the words, not only without any\nopposition in the sense, but even where there is a very intimate\nconnection, that of cause and effect; for it is the levity of the wife\nthat vexes the husband.\n\n                   ---- Will maintain\n    Upon his bad life to make all this good.\n         _King Richard II. act. 1. sc. 2._\n\n     _Lucetta._ What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?\n\n     _Julia._ If thou respect them, best to take them up.\n\n     _Lucetta._ Nay, I was taken up for laying them down.\n\n                     _Two Gentlemen of Verona, act 1. sc. 3._\n\n\n\nTo conjoin by a copulative, members that signify things opposed in the\nthought, is an error too gross to be commonly practised. And yet\nwriters are guilty of this fault in some degree, when they conjoin by a\ncopulative things transacted at different periods of time. Hence a want\nof neatness in the following expression.\n\n     The nobility too, whom the King had no means of retaining by\n     suitable offices and preferments, had been seized with the general\n     discontent, and unwarily threw themselves into the scale, which\n     began already too much to preponderate.\n\n                     _History of G. Britain, vol. 1. p. 250._\n\n\n\nIn periods of this kind, it appears more neat to express the past time\nby the participle passive, thus:\n\n     The nobility having been seized with the general discontent,\n     unwarily threw themselves, _&c._ [or], The nobility who had been\n     seized, _&c._ unwarily threw themselves, _&c._\n\nSo much upon conjunction and disjunction in general. I proceed to apply\nthe rule to comparisons in particular. Where a resemblance betwixt two\nobjects is described, the writer ought to study a resemblance betwixt\nthe two members that express these objects. For it makes the\nresemblance the more entire to find it extended even to the words. To\nillustrate this rule, I shall give various examples of deviations from\nit. I begin with the words that express the resemblance.\n\n     I have observed of late, the style of some great _ministers_ very\n     much to exceed that of any other _productions_.\n\n                     _Letter to the Lord High Treasurer. Swift._\n\n\n\nThis, instead of studying the resemblance of words in a period that\nexpresses a comparison, is going out of one\u2019s road to avoid it. Instead\nof _productions_ which resemble not ministers great or small, the proper\nword is _writers_ or _authors_.\n\n     If men of eminence are exposed to censure on the one hand, they are\n     as much liable to flattery on the other. If they receive reproaches\n     which are not due to them, they likewise receive praises which they\n     do not deserve.\n\n                     _Spectator._\n\n\n\nHere the subject plainly demands uniformity in expression instead of\nvariety; and therefore it is submitted whether the period would not do\nbetter in the following manner:\n\n     If men of eminence be exposed to censure on the one hand, they are\n     as much exposed to flattery on the other. If they receive\n     reproaches which are not due, they likewise receive praises which\n     are not due.\n\n     I cannot but fancy, however, that this imitation, which passes so\n     currently with _other judgements_, must at some time or other have\n     stuck a little with your _Lordship_[86]. [Better thus:] I cannot\n     but fancy, however, that this imitation, which passes so currently\n     with others, must at some time or other have stuck a little with\n     your Lordship.\n\n            *       *       *       *       *\n\n     A glutton or mere sensualist is as ridiculous as the other two\n     characters.\n\n                     _Shaftesbury, vol. 1. p. 129._\n\n\n\n     They wisely prefer _the generous efforts of good-will and\n     affection_, to the reluctant compliances _of such as_ obey by\n     force.\n\n          _Remarks on the history of England. Letter 5. Bolingbroke._\n\n\n\nTitus Livius, concerning the people of Enna demanding the keys from the\nRoman garrison, makes the governor say,\n\n     Quas simul tradiderimus, Carthaginiensium extemplo Enna erit,\n     f\u0153diusque hic trucidabimir, quam Murganti\u00e6 pr\u00e6sidium interfectum\n     est.\n\n                     _L. 24. \u00a7 38._\n\n\n\nQuintus Curtius, speaking of Porus mounted on an elephant, and leading\nhis army to battle:\n\n     Magnitudini Pori adjicere videbatur bellua qua vehebatur, tantum\n     inter c\u00e6teras eminens, quanto aliis ipse pr\u00e6stabat.\n\n                     _L. 8. cap. 14._\n\n\n\nIt is a still greater deviation from congruity, to affect not only\nvariety in the words, but also in the construction. Describing\nThermopyl\u00e6, Titus Livius says,\n\n     Id jugum, sicut Apennini dorso Italia dividitur, ita mediam Gr\u00e6ciam\n     deremit.\n\n                     _L. 36. \u00a7 15._\n\n\n\nSpeaking of Shakespear:\n\n     There may remain a suspicion that we over-rate the greatness of his\n     genius; in the same manner as bodies appear more gigantic on\n     account of their being disproportioned and mishapen.\n\n                     _History of G. Britain, vol. 1. p. 138._\n\n\n\nThis is studying variety in a period where the beauty lies in\nuniformity. Better thus:\n\n     There may remain a suspicion that we over-rate the greatness of his\n     genius, in the same manner as we over-rate the greatness of bodies\n     which are disproportioned and mishapen.\n\nNext as to the length of the members that signify the resembling\nobjects. To produce a resemblance betwixt such members, they ought not\nonly to be constructed in the same manner, but as nearly as possible be\nequal in length. By neglecting this circumstance, the following example\nis defective in neatness.\n\n     As the performance of all other religious duties will not avail in\n     the sight of God, _without charity_, so neither will the discharge\n     of all other ministerial duties avail in the sight of men _without\n     a faithful discharge of this principal duty_.\n\n                     _Dissertation upon parties, dedication._\n\n\n\nIn the following passage all the errors are accumulated that a period\nexpressing a resemblance can well admit:\n\n     Ministers are answerable for every thing done to the prejudice of\n     the constitution, in the same proportion as the preservation of the\n     constitution in its purity and vigour, or the perverting and\n     weakening it, are of greater consequence to the nation, than any\n     other instances of good or bad government.\n\n                     _Dissertation upon parties, dedication._\n\n\n\nThe same rule obtains in a comparison where things are opposed to each\nother. Objects contrasted, not less than what are similar, require a\nresemblance in the members of the period that express them. The reason\nis, that contrast has no effect upon the mind, except where the things\ncompared have a resemblance in their capital parts[87]. Therefore, in\nopposing two circumstances to each other, it remarkably heightens the\ncontrast, to make as entire as possible the resemblance betwixt the\nother parts, and in particular betwixt the members expressing the two\ncircumstances contrasted. As things are often best illustrated by their\ncontraries, I shall also give examples of deviations from the rule in\nthis case.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAddison says,\n\n     A friend exaggerates a man\u2019s virtues, an enemy inflames his crimes.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 399.\n\n\n\nWould it not be neater to study uniformity instead of variety? as thus:\n\n     A friend exaggerates a man\u2019s virtues, an enemy his crimes.\n\nFor here the contrast is only betwixt a friend and an enemy; and betwixt\nall the other circumstances, including the members of the period, the\nresemblance ought to be preserved as entire as possible.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSpeaking of a lady\u2019s head-dress:\n\n     About ten years ago it shot up to a very great height, insomuch\n     that the female part of our species were much taller than the men.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 98.\n\n\n\nIt should be,\n\n     Than the male part.\n\n     The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation; the fool\n     when he recommends himself to the applause of those about him.\n\n                     _Ibid._ N\u00ba 73.\n\n\n\nBetter:\n\n     The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation; the fool\n     when he gains that of others.\n\n     Sicut in frugibus pecudibusque, non tantum semina ad servandum\n     indolem valent, quantum terr\u00e6 proprietas c\u0153lique, sub quo aluntur,\n     mutat.\n\n                     _Livy, l. 38. \u00a7 17._\n\n\n\nSallust, in his history of Catiline\u2019s conspiracy:\n\n     Per illa tempora quicumque rempublicam agitavere, honestis\n     nominibus, alii, sicuti populi jura defenderent, pars, quo senati\n     auctoritas maxuma foret, bonum publicum simulantes, pro sua\n     quisque potentia certabant.\n\n                     _Cap. 38._\n\n\n\nWe proceed to a rule of a different kind. During the course of a period,\nthe same scene ought to be continued without variation. The changing\nfrom person to person, from subject to subject, or from person to\nsubject, within the bounds of a single period, distracts the mind, and\naffords no time for a solid impression. I illustrate this rule by giving\nexamples of deviations from it.\n\n     _Honos_ alit artes, _omnesque_ incenduntur ad studia glori\u00e2;\n     jacentque _ea_ semper qu\u00e6 apud quosque improbantur.\n\n                     _Cicero, Tuscul. qu\u00e6st. l. 1._\n\n\n\nSpeaking of the distemper contracted by Alexander bathing in the river\nCydnus and of the cure offered by Philip the physician:\n\n     Inter h\u00e6c \u00e0 Parmenione fidissimo purpuratorum, literas _accipit_,\n     quibus ei _denunciabat_, ne salutem suam Philippo committeret.\n\n                     _Quintus Curtius, l. 3. cap. 6._\n\n\n\nHook, in his Roman history, speaking of Eumenes, who had been beat down\nto the ground with a stone, says,\n\n     After a short time _he_ came to himself; and the next day, _they_\n     put him on board his ship, _which_ conveyed him first to Corinth,\n     and thence to the island of \u00c6gina.\n\nI give another example of a period which is unpleasant, even by a very\nslight deviation from the rule.\n\n     That sort of instruction which is acquired by inculcating an\n     important moral truth, _&c._\n\nThis expression includes two persons, one acquiring, and one\ninculcating; and the scene is changed without necessity. To avoid this\nblemish, the thought may be expressed thus:\n\n     That sort of instruction which is afforded by inculcating, _&c._\n\nThe bad effect of this change of person is remarkable in the following\npassage.\n\n     The _Britains_, daily harassed by cruel inroads from the Picts,\n     were forced to call in the Saxons for their defence, _who_\n     consequently reduced the greatest part of the island to their own\n     power, drove the Britains into the most remote and mountainous\n     parts, and _the rest of the country_, in customs, religion, and\n     language, became wholly Saxons.\n\n                     _Letter to the Lord High Treasurer. Swift._\n\nThe following example is a change from subject to persons.\n\n     _This prostitution of praise_ is not only a deceit upon the gross\n     of mankind, who take their notion of characters from the learned;\n     but also _the better sort_ must by this means lose some part at\n     least of that desire of fame which is the incentive to generous\n     actions, when they find it promiscuously bestowed on the\n     meritorious and undeserving.\n\n                     _Guardian_, N\u00ba 4.\n\nEven so slight a change as to vary the construction in the same period,\nis unpleasant:\n\n     Annibal luce prima, Balearibus levique alia armatura pr\u00e6missa,\n     transgressus flumen, ut quosque traduxerat, ita in acie locabat;\n     Gallos Hispanosque equites prope ripam l\u00e6vo in cornu adversus\n     Romanum equitatum; dextrum cornu Numidis equitibus datum.\n\n                     _Tit. Liv. l. 22. \u00a7 46._\n\nSpeaking of Hannibal\u2019s elephants drove back by the enemy upon his own\narmy:\n\n     Eo magis ruere in suos bellu\u00e6, tantoque majorem stragem edere quam\n     inter hostes ediderant, quanto acrius pavor consternatam agit, quam\n     insidentis magistri imperio regitur.\n\n                     _Liv. l. 27. \u00a7 14._\n\n\n\nThis passage is also faulty in a different respect, that there is no\nresemblance betwixt the members of the expression, though they import a\ncomparison.\n\nThe present head, which relates to the choice of materials, shall be\nclosed with a rule concerning the use of copulatives. Longinus observes,\nthat it animates a period to drop the copulatives; and he gives the\nfollowing example from Xenophon.\n\n     Closing their shields together, they were push\u2019d, they fought, they\n     slew, they were slain.\n\n                     _Treatise of the Sublime, cap. 16._\n\n\n\nThe reason I take to be what follows. A continued sound, if not strong,\ntends to lay us asleep. An interrupted sound rouses and animates by its\nrepeated impulses. Hence it is, that syllables collected into feet,\nbeing pronounced with a sensible interval betwixt each, make more lively\nimpressions than can be made by a continued sound. A period, the members\nof which are connected by copulatives, produceth an effect upon the mind\napproaching to that of a continued sound: and therefore to suppress the\ncopulatives must animate a description. To suppress the copulatives hath\nanother good effect. The members of a period connected by the proper\ncopulatives, glide smoothly and gently along; and are a proof of\nsedateness and leisure in the speaker. On the other hand, a man in the\nhurry of passion, neglecting copulatives and other particles, expresses\nthe principal image only. Hence it is, that hurry or quick action is\nbest expressed without copulatives:\n\n    Veni, vidi, vici.\n\n                        ---- Ite:\n    Ferte cite flammas, date vela, impellite remos.\n         _\u00c6neid._ iv. 593.\n\n    Quis globus, O Cives, caligine volvitur atra?\n    Ferte cite ferrum, date tela, scandite muros.\n    Hostis adest, eja.\n         _\u00c6neid._ ix. 36.\n\nIn this view Longinus[88] justly compares copulatives in a period to\nstrait tying, which in a race obstructs the freedom of motion.\n\nIt follows from the same premisses, that to multiply copulatives in the\nsame period ought to be avoided. For if the laying aside copulatives\ngive force and liveliness, a redundancy of them must render the period\nlanguid. I appeal to the following instance, though there are not more\nthan two copulatives.\n\n     Upon looking over the letters of my female correspondents, I find\n     several from women complaining of jealous husbands; and at the same\n     time protesting their own innocence, and desiring my advice upon\n     this occasion.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 170.\n\n\n\nI except the case where the words are intended to express the coldness\nof the speaker; for there the redundancy of copulatives is a beauty.\n\n     Dining one day at an alderman\u2019s in the city, Peter observed him\n     expatiating after the manner of his brethren, in the praises of his\n     sirloin of beef. \u201cBeef,\u201d said the sage magistrate, \u201cis the king of\n     meat: Beef comprehends in it the quintescence of partridge, and\n     quail, and venison, and pheasant, and plum-pudding, and custard.\u201d\n\n                     _Tale of Tub_, \u00a7 4.\n\n\n\nAnd the author shows great taste in varying the expression in the mouth\nof Peter, who is represented more animated.\n\n     \u201cBread,\u201d says he, \u201cdear brothers, is the staff of life, in which\n     bread is contained, _inclusiv\u00e8_, the quintescence of beef, mutton,\n     veal, venison, partridge, plum-pudding, and custard.\u201d\n\nWe proceed to the second kind of beauty, which consists in a due\narrangement of the words or materials. This branch of the subject is not\nless nice than extensive; and I despair to put it in a clear light,\nuntil a sketch be given of the general principles that govern the\nstructure or composition of language.\n\nEvery thought, generally speaking, contains one capital object\nconsidered as acting or as suffering. This object is expressed by a\nsubstantive noun. Its action is expressed by an active verb; and the\nthing affected by the action is expressed by another substantive noun.\nIts suffering or passive state is expressed by a passive verb, and the\nthing which acts upon it, by a substantive noun. Beside these, which are\nthe capital parts of a sentence or period, there are generally\nunder-parts. Each of the substantives as well as the verb, may be\nqualified. Time, place, purpose, motive, means, instrument, and a\nthousand other circumstances, may be necessary to complete the thought.\nAnd in what manner these several parts are connected together in the\nexpression, will appear from what follows.\n\nIn a complete thought or mental proposition, all the members and parts\nare mutually related, some slightly, some more intimately. In\ncommunicating such a thought, it is not sufficient that the component\nideas be clearly expressed: it is also necessary, that all the relations\ncontained in the thought be expressed according to their different\ndegrees of intimacy. To annex a certain meaning to a certain sound or\nword, requires no art. The great nicety in all languages is, to express\nthe various relations that connect together the parts of the thought.\nCould we suppose this branch of language to be still a secret, it would\npuzzle, I am apt to think, the greatest grammarian ever existed, to\ninvent an expeditious method. And yet, by the guidance merely of nature,\nthe rude and illiterate have been led to a method so perfect, that it\nappears not susceptible of any improvement. Without a clear conception\nof the manner of expressing relations, one at every turn must be at a\nloss about the beauties of language; and upon that subject therefore I\nfind it necessary to say a few words.\n\nWords that import a relation, must be distinguished from those that do\nnot. Substantives commonly imply no relation, such as _animal_, _man_,\n_tree_, _river_. Adjectives, verbs, and adverbs, imply a relation. The\nadjective _good_ must be connected with some substantive, some being\npossessed of that quality. The verb _write_ must be applied to some\nperson who writes; and the adverbs _moderately_, _diligently_, have\nplainly a reference to some action which they modify. When in language a\nrelative term is introduced, all that is necessary to complete the\nexpression, is, to ascertain that thing to which the term relates. For\nanswering this purpose, I observe in Greek and Latin two different\nmethods. Adjectives are declined as well as substantives; and declension\nserves to ascertain the connection that is betwixt them. If the word\nthat expresses the subject be, for example, in the nominative case, so\nalso must the word be that expresses its quality. Example, _vir bonus_.\nAgain, verbs are related, on the one hand, to the agent; and, on the\nother, to the subject upon which the action is exerted. A contrivance\nsimilar to that now mentioned, serves to express this double relation.\nThe nominative case is appropriated to the agent, the accusative to the\npassive subject; and the verb is put in the first second or third\nperson, to correspond the more intimately with both. Examples: _Ego amo\nTulliam_; _tu amas Semproniam_; _Brutus amat Portiam_. The other method\nis by juxtaposition, which is necessary with respect to words only that\nare not declined, adverbs for example, articles, prepositions, and\nconjunctions. In the English language there are few declensions; and\ntherefore juxtaposition is our chief resource. Adjectives accompany\ntheir substantives[89]; an adverb accompanies the word it qualifies; and\nthe verb occupies the middle place betwixt the active and passive\nsubjects to which it relates.\n\nIt must be obvious, that those terms which have nothing relative in\ntheir signification, cannot be connected in so easy a manner. When two\nsubstantives happen to be connected, as cause and effect, as principal\nand accessory, or in any other manner, such connection cannot be\nexpressed by contiguity solely; for words must often in a period be\nplaced together which are not thus related. The relation betwixt\nsubstantives, therefore, cannot otherwise be expressed than by particles\ndenoting the relation. Latin indeed and Greek, by their declensions, go\na certain length to express such relations, without the aid of\nparticles. The relation of property, for example, betwixt C\u00e6sar and his\nhorse is, expressed by putting the latter in the nominative case, the\nformer in the genitive; _equus C\u00e6saris_. The like in English, _C\u00e6sar\u2019s\nhorse_. But in other instances, declensions not being used in the\nEnglish language, relations of this kind are commonly expressed by\nprepositions.\n\nThis form of connecting by prepositions, is not confined to\nsubstantives. Qualities, attributes, manner of existing or acting, and\nall other circumstances, may in the same manner be connected with the\nsubstantives to which they relate. This is done artificially by\nconverting the circumstance into a substantive, in which condition it is\nqualified to be connected with the principal subject by a preposition,\nin the manner above described. For example, the adjective _wise_ being\nconverted into the substantive _wisdom_, gives opportunity for the\nexpression \u201ca man _of_ wisdom,\u201d instead of the more simple expression,\n_a wise man_. This variety in the expression, enriches language. I\nobserve beside, that the using a preposition in this case, is not always\na matter of choice. It is indispensable with respect to every\ncircumstance that cannot be expressed by a single adjective or adverb.\n\nTo pave the way for the rules of arrangement, one other preliminary must\nbe discussed, which is, to explain the difference betwixt a natural\nstyle, and that where transposition or inversion prevails. There are, it\nis true, no precise boundaries betwixt these two; for they run into each\nother, like the shades of different colours. No person however is at a\nloss to distinguish them in their extremes: and it is necessary to make\nthe distinction; because though some of the rules I shall have occasion\nto mention are common to both, yet each has rules peculiar to itself. In\na natural style, relative words are by juxtaposition connected with\nthose to which they relate, going before or after, according to the\npeculiar genius of the language. Again, a circumstance connected by a\npreposition, follows naturally the word with which it is connected. But\nthis arrangement may be varied, when a different order is more\nbeautiful. A circumstance may be placed before the word with which it is\nconnected by a preposition; and may be interjected even betwixt a\nrelative word and that to which it relates. When such liberties are\nfrequently taken, the style becomes inverted or transposed.\n\nBut as the liberty of inversion is a capital point in handling the\npresent subject, it will be necessary to examine it more narrowly, and\nin particular to trace the several degrees in which an inverted style\nrecedes more and more from that which is natural. And first, as to the\nplacing a circumstance before the word with which it is connected, I\nobserve, that it is the easiest of all inversion, even so easy as to be\nconsistent with a style that is properly termed natural. Witness the\nfollowing examples.\n\n     In the sincerity of my heart, I profess, _&c._\n\n     By our own ill management, we are brought to so low an ebb of\n     wealth and credit, that, _&c._\n\n     On Thursday morning there was little or nothing transacted in\n     Change-alley.\n\n     At St Bride\u2019s church in Fleetstreet, Mr Woolston, (who writ against\n     the miracles of our Saviour), in the utmost terrors of conscience\n     made a public recantation.\n\nThe interjecting a circumstance betwixt a relative word and that to\nwhich it relates, is more properly termed inversion; because, by a\nviolent disjunction of words intimately connected, it recedes farther\nfrom a natural style. But this liberty has also degrees; for the\ndisjunction is more violent in some cases than in others. This I must\nalso explain: and to give a just notion of the difference, I must crave\nliberty of my reader to enter a little more into an abstract subject,\nthan would otherwise be my choice.\n\nIn nature, though a substance cannot exist without its qualities, nor a\nquality without a substance; yet in our conception of these, a material\ndifference may be remarked. I cannot conceive a quality but as belonging\nto some subject: it makes indeed a part of the idea which is formed of\nthe subject. But the opposite holds not. Though I cannot form a\nconception of a subject devoid of all qualities, a partial conception\nmay however be formed of it, laying aside or abstracting from any\nparticular quality. I can, for example, form the idea of a fine Arabian\nhorse without regard to his colour, or of a white horse without regard\nto his size. Such partial conception of a subject, is still more easy\nwith respect to action or motion; which is an occasional attribute only,\nand has not the same permanency with colour or figure. I cannot form an\nidea of motion independent of a body; but there is nothing more easy\nthan to form an idea of a body at rest. Hence it appears, that the\ndegree of inversion depends greatly on the order in which the related\nwords are placed. When a substantive occupies the first place, we cannot\nforesee what is to be said of it. The idea therefore which this word\nsuggests, must subsist in the mind at least for a moment, independent of\nthe relative words afterward introduced; and if it can so subsist, that\nmoment may without difficulty be prolonged by interjecting a\ncircumstance betwixt the substantive and its connections. Examples\ntherefore of this kind, will scarce alone be sufficient to denominate a\nstyle inverted. The case is very different, where the word that occupies\nthe first place, denotes a quality or an action; for as these cannot be\nconceived without a subject, they cannot without greater violence be\nseparated from the subject that follows. And for that reason, every such\nseparation by means of an interjected circumstance belongs to an\ninverted style.\n\nTo illustrate this doctrine examples being necessary, I shall begin with\nthose where the word first introduced does not imply a relation.\n\n                ---- Nor Eve to iterate\n    Her former trespass fear\u2019d.\n\n        ---- Hunger and thirst at once,\n    Powerful persuaders, quicken\u2019d at the scent\n    Of that alluring fruit, urg\u2019d me so keen.\n\n    Moon, that now meet\u2019st the orient sun, now fli\u2019st\n    With the fix\u2019d stars, fix\u2019d in their orb that flies,\n    And ye five other wand\u2019ring fires that move\n    In mystic dance not without song, resound\n    His praise.\n\nIn the following examples, where the word first introduced imports a\nrelation, the disjunction will be found more violent.\n\n      Of man\u2019s first disobedience, and the fruit\n    Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste\n    Brought death into the world, and all our wo,\n    With loss of Eden, till one greater man\n    Restore us, and regain the blessful seat,\n    Sing heav\u2019nly muse.\n\n           ---- Upon the firm opacous globe\n    Of this round world, whose first convex divides\n    The luminous inferior orbs, inclos\u2019d\n    From chaos and th\u2019 inroad of darkness old\n    Satan alighted walks.\n\n         ---- On a sudden open fly,\n    With impetuous recoil and jarring sound,\n    Th\u2019 infernal doors.\n\n                ---- Wherein remain\u2019d,\n    For what could else? to our almighty foe\n    Clear victory, to our part loss and rout.\n\n          ----Forth rush\u2019d with whirlwind sound\n    The chariot of paternal Deity.\n\nLanguage would have no great power, were it confined to the natural\norder of ideas. A thousand beauties may be compassed by inversion, that\nmust be relinquished in a natural arrangement. I shall soon have an\nopportunity to make this evident. In the mean time, it ought not to\nescape observation, that the mind of man is happily so constituted as to\nrelish inversion, though in one respect unnatural; and to relish it so\nmuch, as in many cases to admit a violent disjunction of words that by\nthe sense are intimately connected. I scarce can say that inversion has\nany limits; though I may venture to pronounce, that the disjunction of\narticles, conjunctions, or prepositions, from the words to which they\nbelong, never has a good effect. The following example with relation to\na preposition, is perhaps as tolerable as any of the kind.\n\n     He would neither separate _from_, nor act against them.\n\nI give notice to the reader, that I am now ready to enter upon the rules\nof arrangement; beginning with a natural style, and proceeding gradually\nto what is the most inverted. And in the arrangement of a period, as\nwell as in a right choice of words, the first and great object being\nperspicuity, it is above laid down as a rule, That perspicuity ought not\nto be sacrificed to any other beauty whatever. Ambiguities occasioned by\na wrong arrangement are of two sorts; one where the arrangement leads to\na wrong sense, and one where the sense is left doubtful. The first being\nthe more culpable, shall take the lead, beginning with examples of words\nput in a wrong place.\n\n     How much the imagination of such a presence must exalt a genius, we\n     may observe _merely_ from the influence which an ordinary presence\n     has over men.\n\n                     _Characteristics, vol. 1. p. 7._\n\n\n\nThis arrangement leads to a wrong sense: The adverb _merely_ seems by\nits position to affect the preceding word; whereas it is intended to\naffect the following words _an ordinary presence_; and therefore the\narrangement ought to be thus.\n\n     How much the imagination of such a presence must exalt a genius, we\n     may observe from the influence which an ordinary presence merely\n     has over men.\n\n     The time of the election of a poet-laureat being now at hand, it\n     may be proper to give some account of the rites and ceremonies\n     anciently used at that solemnity, and only discontinued through the\n     neglect and degeneracy of later times.\n\n                     _Guardian._\n\n\n\nThe term _only_ is intended to qualify the noun _degeneracy_, and not\nthe participle _discontinued_; and therefore the arrangement ought to be\nas follows.\n\n          ---- and discontinued through the neglect\n    and degeneracy only, of later times.\n\n     Sixtus the Fourth was, if I mistake not, a great collector of books\n     at least.\n\n                     _Letters on history, vol. 1. let. 6._ _Bolingbroke._\n\n\n\nThe expression here leads evidently to a wrong sense. The adverb _at\nleast_, ought not to be connected with the substantive _books_, but with\n_collector_, thus:\n\n     Sixtus the Fourth was a great collector at least, of books.\n\nSpeaking of Lewis XIV.\n\n     If he was not the greatest king, he was the best actor of majesty\n     at least, that ever filled a throne.\n\n                     _Ibid. letter 7._\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n     If he was not the greatest king, he was at least the best actor of\n     majesty, _&c._\n\nThis arrangement removes the wrong sense occasioned by the juxtaposition\nof _majesty_ and _at least_.\n\nThe following examples are of the wrong arrangement of members.\n\n     I have confined myself to those methods for the advancement of\n     piety, which are in the power of a prince limited like ours by a\n     strict execution of the laws.\n\n                     _A project for the advancement of religion._ _Swift._\n\n\n\nThe structure of this period leads to a meaning which is not the\nauthor\u2019s, _viz._ power limited by a strict execution of the laws. This\nwrong sense is removed by the following arrangement.\n\n     I have confined myself to those methods for the advancement of\n     piety, which, by a strict execution of the laws, are in the power\n     of a prince limited like ours.\n\n     This morning when one of Lady Lizard\u2019s daughters was looking over\n     some hoods and ribands brought by her tirewoman, with great care\n     and diligence, I employed no less in examining the box which\n     contained them.\n\n                     _Guardian_, N\u00ba 4.\n\n\n\nThe wrong sense occasioned by this arrangement, may be easily prevented\nby varying it thus:\n\n     This morning when, with great care and diligence, one of Lady\n     Lizard\u2019s daughters was looking over some hoods and ribands, _&c._\n\n     A great stone that I happened to find after a long search by the\n     sea-shore, served me for an anchor.\n\n                     _Gulliver\u2019s Travels, part 1. chap. 8._\n\n\n\nOne would think that the search was confined to the sea-shore; but as\nthe meaning is, that the great stone was found by the sea-shore, the\nperiod ought to be arranged thus:\n\n     A great stone, that, after a long search, I happened to find by the\n     sea-shore, served me for anchor.\n\nNext of a wrong arrangement where the sense is left doubtful; beginning,\nas in the former sort, with examples of the wrong arrangement of words\nin a member.\n\n     These forms of conversation _by degrees_ multiplied and grew\n     troublesome.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 119.\n\n\n\nHere it is left doubtful whether the modification _by degrees_ relate to\nthe preceding member or to what follows. It should be,\n\n     These forms of conversation multiplied by degrees.\n\n     Nor does this false modesty expose us _only_ to such actions as are\n     indiscreet, but very often to such as are highly criminal.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 458.\n\n\n\nThe ambiguity is removed by the following arrangement.\n\n     Nor does this false modesty expose us to such actions only as are\n     indiscreet, _&c._\n\n     The empire of Blefuscu is an island situated to the north-east side\n     of Lilliput, from whence it is parted _only_ by a channel of 800\n     yards wide.\n\n                     _Gulliver\u2019s Travels, part 1. chap. 5._\n\n\n\nThe ambiguity may be removed thus:\n\n      ---- from whence it is parted by a channel\n    of 800 yards wide only.\n\nIn the following examples the sense is left doubtful by a wrong\narrangement of members.\n\n     The minister who grows less by his elevation, _like a little statue\n     placed on a mighty pedestal_, will always have his jealousy strong\n     about him.\n\n     _Dissertation upon parties, dedication._ _Bolingbroke._\n\nHere, so far as can be gathered from the arrangement, it is doubtful,\nwhether the object introduced by way of simile, relate to what goes\nbefore or to what follows. The ambiguity is removed by the following\narrangement.\n\n     The minister who, like a little statue placed on a mighty pedestal,\n     grows less by his elevation, will always, _&c._\n\n     Since this is too much to ask of freemen, nay of slaves, _if his\n     expectation be not answered_, shall he form a lasting division upon\n     such transient motives?\n\n                     _Ibid._\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n     Since this is too much to ask of freemen, nay of slaves, shall he,\n     if his expectation be not answered, form, _&c._\n\nSpeaking of the superstitious practice of locking up the room where a\nperson of distinction dies:\n\n     The knight, seeing his habitation reduced to so small a compass,\n     and himself in a manner shut out of his own house, _upon the death\n     of his mother_ ordered all the apartments to be flung open, and\n     exorcised by his chaplain.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 110.\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n     The knight, seeing his habitation reduced to so small a compass,\n     and himself in a manner shut out of his own house, ordered, upon\n     the death of his mother, all the apartments to be flung open.\n\nSpeaking of some indecencies in conversation:\n\n     As it is impossible for such an irrational way of conversation to\n     last long among a people that make any profession of religion, or\n     show of modesty, _if the country-gentlemen get into it_, they will\n     certainly be left in the lurch.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba. 119.\n\n\n\nThe ambiguity vanishes in the following arrangement.\n\n    ---- the country-gentlemen, if they get into it, will certainly be\n     left in the lurch.\n\nSpeaking of a discovery in natural philosophy, that colour is not a\nquality of matter:\n\n     As this is a truth which has been proved incontestably by many\n     modern philosophers, and is indeed one of the finest speculations\n     in that science, _if the English reader would see the notion\n     explained at large_, he may find it in the eighth chapter of the\n     second book of Mr Locke\u2019s essay on human understanding.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 413.\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n     As this is a truth, _&c._ the English reader, if he would see the\n     notion explained at large, may find it, _&c._\n\n     A woman seldom asks advice before she has bought her\n     wedding-cloaths. When she has made her own choice, _for form\u2019s\n     sake_ she sends a _conge d\u2019elire_ to her friends.\n\n                     _Ibid._ N\u00ba 475.\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n    ---- she sends for form\u2019s sake a _conge d\u2019elire_ to her friends.\n\n     And since it is necessary that there should be a perpetual\n     intercourse of buying and selling, and dealing upon credit, _where\n     fraud is permitted or connived at, or hath no law to punish it_,\n     the honest dealer is always undone, and the knave gets the\n     advantage.\n\n                     _Gulliver\u2019s Travels, part 1. chap. 6._\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n     And since it is necessary that there should be a perpetual\n     intercourse of buying and selling, and dealing upon credit, the\n     honest dealer, where fraud is permitted or connived at, or hath no\n     law to punish it, is always undone, and the knave gets the\n     advantage.\n\nFrom these examples, the following observation will readily occur, that\na circumstance ought never to be placed betwixt two capital members of a\nperiod; for by such situation it must always be doubtful, so far as we\ngather from the arrangement, to which of the two members it belongs.\nWhere it is interjected, as it ought to be, betwixt parts of the member\nto which it belongs, the ambiguity is removed, and the capital members\nare kept distinct, which is a great beauty in composition. In general,\nto preserve members distinct which signify things distinguished in the\nthought, the sure method is, to place first in the consequent member\nsome word that cannot connect with what precedes it.\n\nIf by any one it shall be thought, that the objections here are too\nscrupulous, and that the defect of perspicuity is easily supplied by\naccurate punctuation; the answer is, That punctuation may remove an\nambiguity, but will never produce that peculiar beauty which is felt\nwhen the sense comes out clearly and distinctly by means of a happy\narrangement. Such influence has this beauty, that by a natural\ntransition of feeling, it is communicated to the very sound of the\nwords, so as in appearance to improve the music of the period. But as\nthis curious subject comes in more properly afterward, it is sufficient\nat present to appeal to experience, that a period so arranged as to\nbring out the sense clear, seems always more musical than where the\nsense is left in any degree doubtful.\n\nA rule deservedly occupying the second place, is, That words expressing\nthings connected in the thought, ought to be placed as near together as\npossible. This rule is derived immediately from human nature, in which\nthere is discovered a remarkable propensity to place together things\nthat are in any manner connected[90]. Where things are arranged\naccording to their connections, we have a sense of order: otherwise we\nhave a sense of disorder, as of things placed by chance. And we\nnaturally place words in the same order in which we would place the\nthings they signify. The bad effect of a violent separation of words or\nmembers thus intimately connected, will appear from the following\nexamples.\n\n     For the English are naturally fanciful, and very often disposed, by\n     that gloominess and melancholy of temper which is so frequent in\n     our nation, to many wild notions and visions, to which others are\n     not so liable.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 419.\n\n\n\nHere the verb or assertion is, by a pretty long circumstance, violently\nseparated from the subject to which it refers. This makes a harsh\narrangement; the less excusable that the fault is easily prevented by\nplacing the circumstance before the verb or assertion, after the\nfollowing manner:\n\n     For the English are naturally fanciful, and, by that gloominess and\n     melancholy of temper which is so frequent in our nation, are often\n     disposed to many wild notions, _&c._\n\n     For as no mortal author, in the ordinary fate and vicissitude of\n     things, knows to what use his works may, some time or other, be\n     applied, _&c._\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 85.\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n     For as, in the ordinary fate and vicissitude of things, no mortal\n     author knows to what use, some time or other, his works may be\n     apply\u2019d.\n\n     From whence we may date likewise the rivalship of the house of\n     France, for we may reckon that of the Valois and that of Bourbon as\n     one upon this occasion, and the house of Austria, that continues at\n     this day, and has oft cost so much blood and so much treasure in\n     the course of it.\n\n                     _Letters on history, vol. 1. letter 6. Bolingbroke._\n\n     It cannot be impertinent or ridiculous therefore in such a country,\n     whatever it might be in the Abbot of St Real\u2019s, which was Savoy I\n     think; or in Peru, under the Incas, where Garcilasso de la Vega\n     says it was lawful for none but the nobility to study--for men of\n     all degrees to instruct themselves in those affairs wherein they\n     may be actors, or judges of those that act, or controllers of those\n     that judge.\n\n                     _Letters on history, vol. 1. letter 5. Bolingbroke._\n\n\n\n     If Scipio, who was naturally given to women, for which anecdote we\n     have, if I mistake not, the authority of Polybius, as well as some\n     verses of Nevius preserved by Aulus Gellius, had been educated by\n     Olympias at the court of Philip, it is improbable that he would\n     have restored the beautiful Spaniard.\n\n                     _Ibid. letter 3._\n\n\n\nIf any one have a curiosity for more specimens of this kind, they will\nbe found without number in the works of the same author.\n\nA pronoun, which saves the naming a person or thing a second time, ought\nto be placed as near as possible to the name of that person or thing.\nThis is a branch of the foregoing rule; and with the reason there\ngiven, another concurs, _viz._ That if other ideas intervene, it is\ndifficult to recal the person or thing by reference.\n\n     If I had leave to print the Latin letters transmitted to me from\n     foreign parts, they would fill a volume, and be a full defence\n     against all that Mr. Partridge, or his accomplices of the Portugal\n     inquisition, will be ever able to object; _who_, by the way, are\n     the only enemies my predictions have ever met with at home or\n     abroad.\n\nBetter thus:\n\n    ---- and be a full defence against all that can be objected by Mr.\n     Partridge, or his accomplices of the Portugal inquisition; who, by\n     the way, are, _&c._\n\n     There being a round million of creatures in human figure,\n     throughout this kingdom, _whose_ whole subsistence, _&c._\n\n                     _A modest proposal_, &c. _Swift._\n\n\n\nBetter:\n\n     There being, throughout this kingdom, a round million of creatures\n     in human figure, whose whole subsistence, _&c._\n\n     Tom is a lively impudent clown, and has wit enough to have made him\n     a pleasant companion, had _it_ been polished and rectified by good\n     manners.\n\n                     _Guardian_, N\u00ba 162.\n\n\n\n     It is the custom of the Mahometans, if they see any printed or\n     written paper upon the ground, to take it up, and lay it aside\n     carefully, as not knowing but it may contain some piece of their\n     Alcoran.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 85.\n\n\n\nThe arrangement here leads to a wrong sense, as if the ground were taken\nup, not the paper. Better thus:\n\n     It is the custom of the Mahometans, if they see upon the ground any\n     printed or written paper, to take it up, _&c._\n\nThe following rule depends on the communication of emotions or feelings\nto related objects, a principle in human nature we have had more than\none occasion to mention. We find this operation, even where the objects\nare not otherwise related than by the juxtaposition of the words that\nexpress them. Hence to elevate or depress an object, one method is, to\njoin it in the arrangement to another that is naturally high or low.\nWitness the following speech of Eumenes to the Roman senate.\n\n     Causam veniendi sibi Romam fuisse, pr\u00e6ter cupiditatem visendi _deos\n     hominesque_, quorum beneficio in ea fortuna esset, supra quam ne\n     optare quidem auderet, etiam ut coram moneret senatum ut Persei\n     conatus obviam iret.\n\n                     _Livy, l. 42. cap. 11._\n\n\n\nTo join the Romans with the gods in the same enunciation, is an artful\nstroke of flattery, because it tacitly puts them on a level. On the\nother hand, when the purpose is to degrade or vilify an object, this is\ndone successfully by ranking it with one that is really low:\n\n     I hope to have this entertainment in a readiness for the next\n     winter; and doubt not but it will please more than the opera or\n     puppet-show.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 28.\n\n\n\n     Manifold have been the judgments which Heaven from time to time,\n     for the chastisement of a sinful people, has inflicted upon whole\n     nations. For when the degeneracy becomes common, \u2019tis but just the\n     punishment should be general. Of this kind, in our own unfortunate\n     country, was that destructive pestilence, whose mortality was so\n     fatal as to sweep away, if Sir William Petty may be believed, five\n     millions of Christian souls, besides women and Jews.\n\n                     _God\u2019s revenge against punning. Arbuthnot._\n\n\n\n     Such also was that dreadful conflagration ensuing in this famous\n     metropolis of London, which consumed, according to the computation\n     of Sir Samuel Morland, 100,000 houses, not to mention churches and\n     stables.\n\n                     _Ibid._\n\n\n\n     But on condition it might pass into a law, I would gladly exempt\n     both lawyers of all ages, subaltern and field officers, young\n     heirs, dancing-masters, pickpockets, and players.\n\n              _An infallible scheme to pay the public debts. Swift._\n\n\n\nCircumstances in a period resemble small stones in a building employ\u2019d\nto fill up vacancies among those of a larger size. In the arrangement of\na period, such under-parts crowded together make a poor figure; and\nnever are graceful but when interspersed among the capital parts. I\nshall illustrate this rule by the following example.\n\n     It is likewise urged, that there are, by computation, in this\n     kingdom, above 10,000 parsons, whose revenues, added to those of my\n     Lords the bishops, would suffice to maintain, _&c._\n\n                     _Argument against abolishing Christianity. Swift._\n\n\n\nHere two circumstances, _viz. by computation_ and _in this kingdom_, are\ncrowded together unnecessarily. They make a better appearance separated\nin the following manner.\n\n     It is likewise urged, that in this kingdom there are, by\n     computation, above 10,000 parsons, _&c._\n\nIf there be room for a choice, the sooner a circumstance be introduced,\nthe better. Circumstances are proper for that coolness of mind, with\nwhich a period as well as a work is commenced. In the progress, the mind\nwarms, and has a greater relish for matters of importance. When a\ncircumstance is placed at the beginning or near the beginning of the\nperiod, the transition from it to the principal subject is agreeable: it\nis like ascending or mounting upward. On the other hand, to place it\nlate in the period has a bad effect; for after being engaged in the\nprincipal subject, one is with reluctance brought down to give attention\nto a circumstance. Hence evidently the preference of the following\narrangement,\n\n     Whether in any country a choice altogether unexceptionable has been\n     made, seems doubtful,\n\nbefore this other,\n\n     Whether a choice altogether unexceptionable has in any country been\n     made, _&c._\n\nFor this reason the following period is exceptionable in point of\narrangement:\n\n     I have considered formerly, with a good deal of attention, the\n     subject upon which you command me to communicate my thoughts to\n     you.\n\n                     _Bolingbroke of the study of history, letter 1._\n\n\n\nwhich, with a slight alteration, may be improved thus:\n\n     I have formerly, with a good deal of attention, considered the\n     subject, _&c._\n\nThe bad effect of placing a circumstance last or late in a period, will\nappear from the following examples.\n\n     Let us endeavour to establish to ourselves an interest in him who\n     holds the reins of the whole creation in his hand.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 12.\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n     Let us endeavour to establish to ourselves an interest in him, who,\n     in his hand, holds the reins of the whole creation.\n\n     Virgil, who has cast the whole system of Platonic philosophy, so\n     far as it relates to the soul of man, into beautiful allegories,\n     _in the sixth book of his \u00c6neid_, gives us the punishment, _&c._\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 90.\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n     Virgil, who in the sixth book of his \u00c6neid has cast, _&c._\n\n     And Philip the Fourth was obliged at last to conclude a peace, on\n     terms repugnant to his inclination, to that of his people, to the\n     interest of Spain, and to that of all Europe, in the Pyrenean\n     treaty.\n\n                     _Letters on history, vol. 1. letter 6. Bolingbroke._\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n     And at last, in the Pyrenean treaty, Philip the Fourth was obliged\n     to conclude a peace, _&c._\n\nIn arranging a period, it is of importance to determine in what part of\nit a word makes the greatest figure, whether in the beginning, during\nthe currency, or at the close. The breaking silence rouses the attention\nto what is said; and therefore deeper impression is made at the\nbeginning than during the currency. The beginning, however, must yield\nto the close; which being succeeded by a pause, affords time for a word\nto make its deepest impression. Hence the following rule, That to give\nthe utmost force to a period, it ought if possible to be closed with\nthat word which makes the greatest figure. The opportunity of a pause\nshould not be thrown away upon accessories, but reserved for the\nprincipal object, in order that it may make a full impression. This is\nan additional reason against closing a period with a circumstance. There\nare however periods that admit not this structure; and in that case,\nthe capital word ought if possible to be placed in the front, which next\nto the close is the most advantageous for making an impression. Hence,\nin directing our discourse to any man, we ought to begin with his name;\nand one will be sensible of a degradation, when this rule is neglected,\nas it frequently is for the sake of verse. I give the following\nexamples.\n\n      Integer vit\u00e6, scelerisque purus,\n    Non eget Mauris jaculi, neque arcu,\n    Nec venenatis gravid\u00e2 sagittis,\n        Fusce, pharetr\u00e2.\n         _Horat. Carm. l. 1. ode 22._\n\n     Je crains Dieu, cher Abner, et n\u2019ai point d\u2019autre crainte.\n\nIn these examples the name of the person addressed to makes a mean\nfigure, being like a circumstance slipt into a corner. That this\ncriticism is well founded, we need no other proof than Addison\u2019s\ntranslation of the last example.\n\n     O Abner! I fear my God, and I fear none but him.\n\n                     _Guardian_, N\u00ba 117.\n\n\n\n    O father, what intends thy hand, she cry\u2019d,\n    Against thy only son? What fury, O son,\n    Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart\n    Against thy father\u2019s head?\n         _Paradise Lost, book 2. l. 727._\n\nEvery one must be sensible of a dignity in the invocation at the\nbeginning, which that in the middle is far from reaching. I mean not\nhowever to censure this expression. On the contrary it appears\nbeautiful, by distinguishing the respect due to a father and to a son.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe substance of what is said in this and the foregoing section, upon\nthe method of arranging the words of a period so as to make the\nstrongest impression with respect to sound as well as signification, is\ncomprehended in the following observation. That order of the words in a\nperiod will always be the most agreeable, where, without obscuring the\nsense, the most important images, the most sonorous words, and the\nlongest members, bring up the rear.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHitherto of arranging single words, single members, and single\ncircumstances. But the enumeration of many particulars in the same\nperiod is often necessary; and the question is, In what order they\nshould be placed. It does not seem easy at first view to bring a subject\napparently so loose under any general rules. But luckily reflecting upon\nwhat is said in the first chapter about order, we find rules laid down\nto our hand, so as to leave us no harder task than their application to\nthe present question. And, first, with respect to the enumerating a\nnumber of particulars of equal rank, it is laid down in the place cited,\nthat as there is no foundation for preferring any one before the rest,\nit is indifferent to the mind in what order they be viewed. And it is\nonly necessary to be added here, that for the same reason, it is\nindifferent in what order they be named. 2dly, If a number of objects of\nthe same kind, differing only in size, are to be ranged along a\nstraight line, the most agreeable order to the eye is that of an\nincreasing series. In surveying a number of such objects, beginning at\nthe least and proceeding to greater and greater, the mind swells\ngradually with the successive objects, and in its progress has a very\nsensible pleasure. Precisely for the same reason, the words expressive\nof such objects ought to be placed in the same order. The beauty of this\nfigure, which may be termed _a climax in sense_, has escaped Lord\nBolingbroke in the first member of the following period.\n\n     Let but one great, brave, disinterested, active man arise, and he\n     will be received, followed, and almost adored.\n\nThe following arrangement has sensibly a better effect.\n\n     Let but one brave, great, active, disinterested man arise, _&c._\n\nWhether the same rule ought to be followed in enumerating men of\ndifferent ranks, seems doubtful. On the one hand, a procession of a\nnumber of persons, presenting the lowest class first, and rising upon\nthe eye in succession till it terminate upon the highest, is undoubtedly\nthe most agreeable order. On the other hand, in every list of names, it\nis customary to set the person of the greatest dignity at the top, and\nto descend gradually through his inferiors. Where the purpose is to\nhonour the persons named according to their rank, the latter order ought\nto be followed; but every one who regards himself only, or his reader,\nwill chuse the former order. 3dly, As the sense of order directs the eye\nto descend from the principal to its greatest accessory, and from the\nwhole to its greatest part, and in the same order through all the parts\nand accessories till we arrive at the minutest; the same order ought to\nbe followed in the enumeration of such particulars. I shall give one\nfamiliar example. Talking of the parts of a column, _viz._ the base, the\nshaft, the capital, these are capable of six different arrangements, and\nthe question is, Which is the best? When one has in view the erection of\na column, he will naturally be led to express the parts in the order\nabove mentioned; which at the same time is agreeable by mounting upward.\nBut considering the column as it stands without reference to its\nerection, the sense of order, as observed above, requires the chief part\nto be named first. For that reason we begin with the shaft; and the base\ncomes next in order, that we may ascend from it to the capital. Lastly,\nIn tracing the particulars of any natural operation, order requires that\nwe follow the course of nature. Historical facts are related in the\norder of time. We begin at the founder of a family, and proceed from him\nto his descendents. But in describing a lofty oak, we begin with the\ntrunk, and ascend to the branches.\n\nWhen force and liveliness of expression are aimed at, the rule is, to\nsuspend the thought as much as possible, and to bring it out full and\nentire at the close. This cannot be done but by inverting the natural\narrangement, and by introducing a word or member before its time. By\nsuch inversion our curiosity is raised about what is to follow; and it\nis agreeable to have our curiosity gratified at the close of the period.\nSuch arrangement produceth on the mind an effect similar to a stroke\nexerted upon the body by the whole collected force of the agent. On the\nother hand, where a period is so constructed as to admit more than one\ncomplete close in the sense, the curiosity of the reader is exhausted at\nthe first close, and what follows appears languid or superfluous. His\ndisappointment contributes also to this appearance, when he finds, that,\ncontrary to his expectation, the period is not yet finished. Cicero, and\nafter him Quintilian, recommend the verb to the last place. This method\nevidently tends to suspend the sense till the close of the period; for\nwithout the verb the sense cannot be complete. And when the verb happens\nto be the capital word, which is frequently the case, it ought at any\nrate to be put last, according to another rule, above laid down. I\nproceed as usual to illustrate this rule by examples. The following\nperiod is placed in its natural order.\n\n     Were instruction an essential circumstance in epic poetry, I doubt\n     whether a single instance could be given of this species of\n     composition, in any language.\n\nThe period thus arranged admits a full close upon the word\n_composition_; after which it goes on languidly, and closes without\nforce. This blemish will be avoided by the following arrangement.\n\n     Were instruction an essential circumstance in epic poetry, I doubt\n     whether, in any language, a single instance could be given of this\n     species of composition.\n\n     Some of our most eminent divines have made use of this Platonic\n     notion, as far as it regards the subsistence of our passions after\n     death, with great beauty and strength of reason.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 90.\n\n\n\nBetter thus:\n\n     Some of our most eminent divines have, with great beauty and\n     strength of reason, made use of this Platonic notion, _&c._\n\n     Men of the best sense have been touched, more or less, with these\n     groundless horrors and presages of futurity, upon surveying the\n     most indifferent works of nature.\n\n                     _Spectator_, N\u00ba 505.\n\n\n\nBetter:\n\n     Upon surveying the most indifferent works of nature, men of the\n     best sense, _&c._\n\n     She soon informed him of the place he was in, which,\n     notwithstanding all its horrors, appeared to him more sweet than\n     the bower of Mahomet, in the company of his Balsora.\n\n                     _Guardian_, N\u00ba 167.\n\n\n\nBetter:\n\n     She soon, _&c._ appeared to him, in the company of his Balsora,\n     more sweet, _&c._\n\n     The Emperor was so intent on the establishment of his absolute\n     power in Hungary, that he exposed the Empire doubly to desolation\n     and ruin for the sake of it.\n\n                     _Letters on history, vol. 1. let. 7. Bolingbroke._\n\n\n\nBetter:\n\n    ---- that for the sake of it he exposed the Empire doubly to\n     desolation and ruin.\n\nNone of the rules for the composition of periods are more liable to be\nabused, than those last mentioned: witness many Latin writers, among the\nmoderns especially, whose style, by inversions too violent, is rendered\nharsh and obscure. Suspension of the thought till the close of the\nperiod, ought never to be preferred before perspicuity. Neither ought\nsuch suspension to be attempted in a long period; because in that case\nthe mind is bewildered among a profusion of words. A traveller, while he\nis puzzled about the road, relishes not the finest prospects.\n\n     All the rich presents which Astyages had given him at parting,\n     keeping only some Median horses, in order to propagate the breed of\n     them in Persia, he distributed among his friends whom he left at\n     the court of Ecbatana.\n\n                     _Travels of Cyrus, book 1._\n\n\n\nThe foregoing rules concern the arrangement of a single period. I shall\nadd one rule more concerning the distribution of a discourse into\ndifferent periods. A short period is lively and familiar. A long\nperiod, requiring more attention, makes an impression grave and solemn.\nIn general, a writer ought to study a mixture of long and short periods,\nwhich prevents an irksome uniformity, and entertains the mind with\nvariety of impressions. In particular, long periods ought to be avoided\ntill the reader\u2019s attention be thoroughly engaged; and therefore a\ndiscourse, especially of the familiar kind, ought never to be introduced\nwith a long period. For that reason, the commencement of a letter to a\nvery young lady on her marriage is faulty.\n\n     Madam, The hurry and impertinence of receiving and paying visits on\n     account of your marriage, being now over, you are beginning to\n     enter into a course of life, where you will want much advice to\n     divert you from falling into many errors, fopperies, and follies,\n     to which your sex is subject.\n\n                     _Swift._\n\n\n\nSee a stronger example in the commencement of Cicero\u2019s oration, _Pro\nArchia poeta_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBefore we proceed farther, it may be proper to take a review of the\nrules laid down in this and the preceding section, in order to make\nsome general observations. The natural order of the words and members of\na period, is undoubtedly the same with the natural order of the ideas\nthat compose the thought. The tendency of many of the foregoing rules,\nis to substitute an artificial arrangement, in order to reach some\nbeauty either of sound or meaning that cannot be reached in the natural\norder. But seldom it happens, that in the same period there is place for\na plurality of these rules. If one beauty can be catched, another must\nbe relinquished. The only question is, Which ought to be preferred? This\nis a question that cannot be resolved by any general rule. But practice,\nsupported by a good taste, will in most instances make the choice easy.\nThe component words and members of a period, are ascertained by the\nsubject. If the natural order be not relished, a few trials will\ndiscover that artificial order which has the best effect. All that can\nbe said in general is, that in making a choice, sound ought to yield to\nsignification.\n\nThe transposing words and members out of their natural order, so\nremarkable in the learned languages, has been the subject of much\nspeculation. It is agreed on all hands, that such transposition or\ninversion bestows upon a period a very sensible degree of force and\nelevation; and yet writers seem to be at a loss in what manner to\naccount for this effect. Cer\u00e7eau[91] ascribes so much power to\ninversion, as to make it the characteristic of French verse, and the\nsingle circumstance which in that language distinguishes verse from\nprose. And yet he pretends not to say, that it hath any other power but\nto raise surprise; he must mean curiosity; which is done by suspending\nthe thought during the period, and bringing it out entire at the close.\nThis indeed is one power of inversion; but neither its sole power, nor\neven that which is the most remarkable, as is made plain above. But\nwaving censure, which is not an agreeable task, I enter into the matter.\nAnd I begin with observing, that if a conformity betwixt words and\ntheir meaning be agreeable, it must of course be agreeable to find the\nsame order or arrangement in both. Hence the beauty of a plain or\nnatural style, where the order of the words corresponds precisely to the\norder of the ideas. Nor is this the single beauty of a natural style: it\nis also agreeable upon account of its simplicity and perspicuity. This\nobservation throws light upon the subject. For if a natural style be in\nitself agreeable, a transposed style cannot be so. And therefore, it\ncannot otherwise be agreeable, but as contributing to some positive\nbeauty which is excluded in a natural style. To be confirmed in this\nopinion, we need but reflect upon some of the foregoing rules, which\nmake it evident, that language, by means of inversion, is susceptible of\nmany beauties that are totally excluded in a natural arrangement of\nwords. From these premisses it clearly follows, that inversion ought not\nto be indulged, unless in order to reach some beauty superior to that of\na natural style. It may with great certainty be pronounced, that every\ninversion which is not governed by this rule, will appear harsh and\nstrained, and be disrelished by every one of taste. Hence the beauty of\ninversion when happily conducted; the beauty, not of an end, but of\nmeans, as furnishing opportunity for numberless ornaments that find no\nplace in a natural style. Hence the force, the elevation, the harmony,\nthe cadence, of some compositions. Hence the manifold beauties of the\nGreek and Roman tongues, of which living languages afford but faint\nimitations.\n\n\nSECT. III.\n\n_Beauty of language from a resemblance betwixt sound and signification._\n\nThe resemblance betwixt the sound and signification of certain words, is\na beauty, which has escaped no critical writer, and yet is not handled\nwith accuracy by any of them. They have probably been erroneously of\nopinion, that a beauty so obvious in the feeling, requires no\nexplanation in the understanding. In order to supply this defect, I\nshall give examples of the various resemblances betwixt sound and\nsignification; and at the same time shall endeavour to explain why such\nresemblances are beautiful. I begin with examples where the resemblance\nbetwixt the sound and signification is the most entire; proceeding to\nothers, where the resemblance is less and less so.\n\nThere being frequently a strong resemblance betwixt different sounds, it\nwill not be surprising to find a natural sound imitated by one that is\narticulate. Thus the sound of a bow-string is imitated by the words that\nexpress it.\n\n              ---- The string let fly,\n    _Twang\u2019d short and sharp_, like the shrill swallow\u2019s cry.\n         _Odyssey_ xxi. 449.\n\nThe sound of felling trees in a wood:\n\n    Loud sounds the ax, redoubling strokes on strokes;\n    On all sides round the forest hurls her oaks\n    Headlong. Deep-echoing groan the thickets brown,\n    Then _rustling_, _crackling_, _crashing_, thunder down.\n         _Iliad_, xxiii. 144.\n\n    But when loud surges lash the sounding shore\n    The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar!\n\n    _Pope\u2019s Essay on Criticism, 369._\n\nNo person can be at a loss about the cause of this beauty. It is\nobviously that of imitation.\n\nThat there is any other natural resemblance betwixt sound and\nsignification, must not be taken for granted. There is evidently no\nresemblance betwixt sound and motion, nor betwixt sound and sentiment.\nIn this matter, we are apt to be deceived by artful reading or\npronouncing. The same passage may be pronounced in many different tones,\nelevated or humble, sweet or harsh, brisk or melancholy, so as to accord\nwith the thought or sentiment. Such concord, depending on artful\npronunciation, must be distinguished from that concord betwixt sound and\nsense, which is perceived in some expressions independent of artful\npronunciation. The latter is the poet\u2019s work: the former must be\nattributed to the reader. Another thing contributes still more to the\ndeceit. In language, sound and sense are so intimately connected, as\nthat the properties of the one are readily communicated to the other. An\nemotion of grandeur, of sweetness, of melancholy, or of compassion,\nthough occasioned by the thought solely, is transferred upon the words,\nwhich by that means resemble in appearance the thought that is expressed\nby them[92]. I have great reason to recommend these observations to my\nreader, considering how inaccurately the present subject is handled by\ncritics. Not one of them distinguishes the natural resemblance of sound\nand signification, from the artificial resemblance now described.\nWitness Vida in particular, who in a very long passage has given very\nfew examples, but what are of the latter kind[93].\n\nThat there may be a resemblance betwixt natural and artificial sounds,\nis self-evident; and that in fact there exist such resemblances\nsuccessfully employ\u2019d by writers of genius, is clear from the foregoing\nexamples, and many others that might be given. But we may safely\npronounce, that this natural resemblance can be carried no farther. The\nobjects of the several senses, differ so widely from each other as to\nexclude any resemblance. Sound in particular, whether articulate or\ninarticulate, resembles not in any degree taste, smell, or motion; and\nas little can it resemble any internal sentiment, feeling, or emotion.\nBut must we then agree, that nothing but natural sound can be imitated\nby that which is articulate? Taking imitation in its proper sense, as\ninvolving a resemblance betwixt two objects, the proposition must be\nadmitted. And yet in many passages that are not descriptive of natural\nsound, every one must be sensible of a peculiar concord betwixt the\nsound of the words and their meaning. As there can be no doubt of the\nfact, what remains is, to inquire into its cause.\n\nResembling causes may produce effects that have no resemblance; and\ncauses that have no resemblance may produce resembling effects. A\nmagnificent building, for example, resembles not in any degree an heroic\naction; and yet the emotions they produce, being concordant, bear a\nresemblance to each other. We are still more sensible of this\nresemblance, in a song where the music is properly adjusted to the\nsentiment. There is no resemblance betwixt thought and sound; but there\nis the strongest resemblance betwixt the emotion raised by music tender\nand pathetic, and that raised by the complaint of an unsuccessful lover.\nTo apply these examples to the present subject, I observe, that the\nsound even of a single word makes, in some instances, an impression\nresembling that which is made by the thing it signifies; witness the\nword _running_, composed of two short syllables; and more remarkably the\nwords _rapidity_, _impetuosity_, _precipitation_. Brutal manners produce\nin the spectator, an emotion not unlike what is produced by a harsh and\nrough sound. Hence the figurative expression, _rugged_ manners; an\nexpression peculiarly agreeable by the relation of the sound to the\nsense. Again, the word _little_, being pronounced with a very small\naperture of the mouth, has a weak and faint sound, which makes an\nimpression resembling that made by any diminutive object. This\nresemblance of effects, is still more remarkable where a number of words\nare connected together in a period. Words pronounced in succession make\noften a strong impression; and when this impression happens to accord\nwith that made by the sense, a peculiar pleasure arises. The thought or\nsentiment produces one pleasant emotion: the melody or tone of the words\nproduces another. But the chief pleasure proceeds from having these two\nconcordant emotions combined in perfect harmony, and carried on in the\nmind to a full close[94]. Except in the single case where sound is\ndescribed, all the examples given by critics of sense being imitated in\nsound, resolve into a resemblance of effects. Emotions raised by sound\nand signification may have a resemblance; but sound itself cannot have a\nresemblance to any thing but sound.\n\nProceeding now to particulars, and beginning with those cases where the\nemotions have the strongest resemblance, I observe, first, That in\npronouncing a number of syllables in succession, an emotion is sometimes\nraised extremely similar to that raised by successive motion. This may\nbe made evident even to those who are defective in taste, by the\nfollowing fact, that the term _movement_ in all languages is equally\napply\u2019d to both. In this manner, successive motion, such as walking,\nrunning, galloping, can be imitated by a succession of long or short\nsyllables, or by a due mixture of both. For example, slow motion may be\naptly imitated in a verse where long syllables prevail; especially when\naided by a slow pronunciation:\n\n    Illi inter sese magn\u00e2 vi brachia tollunt.\n         _Georg._ iv. 174.\n\nOn the other hand, swift motion is imitated by a succession of short\nsyllables:\n\n    Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum.\n\nAgain:\n\n    Radit iter liquidum, celeres neque commovet alas.\n\nThirdly, a line composed of monosyllables, makes an impression, by the\nfrequency of its pauses, similar to what is made by laborious\ninterrupted motion:\n\n    With many a weary step, and many a groan,\n    Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone.\n         _Odyssey_, xi. 736.\n\n    First march the heavy mules, securely slow;\n    O\u2019er hills, o\u2019er dales, o\u2019er craggs, o\u2019er rocks, they go.\n         _Iliad_, xxiii. 138.\n\nFourthly, the impression made by rough sounds in succession, resembles\nthat made by rough or tumultuous motion. On the other hand, the\nimpression of smooth sounds resembles that of gentle motion. The\nfollowing is an example of both.\n\n    Two craggy rocks projecting to the main,\n    The roaring wind\u2019s tempestuous rage restrain;\n    Within, the waves in softer murmurs glide,\n    And ships secure without their haulsers ride.\n         _Odyssey_, iii. 118.\n\nAnother example of the latter:\n\n    Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,\n    And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows.\n         _Essay on Crit. 366._\n\nFifthly, prolonged motion is expressed in an Alexandrine line. The first\nexample shall be of slow motion prolonged:\n\n    A needless Alexandrine ends the song;\n    That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.\n         _Essay on Crit. 356._\n\nThe next example is of forcible motion prolonged:\n\n    The waves behind impel the waves before,\n    Wide-rolling, foaming high, and tumbling to the shore.\n         _Iliad_, xiii. 1004.\n\nThe last shall be of rapid motion prolonged:\n\n    Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,\n    Flies o\u2019er th\u2019 unbending corn, and skims along the main.\n         _Essay on Crit. 373._\n\nAgain, speaking of a rock torn from the brow of a mountain,\n\n    Still gath\u2019ring force, it smokes, and, urg\u2019d amain,\n    Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain.\n         _Iliad_, xiii. 197.\n\nSixthly, a period consisting mostly of long syllables, that is, of\nsyllables pronounced slow, produceth an emotion resembling faintly that\nwhich is produced by gravity and solemnity. Hence the beauty of the\nfollowing verse.\n\n    Olli sedato respondit corde Latinus.\n\nSeventhly, a slow succession of ideas is a circumstance that belongs\nequally to settled melancholy, and to a period composed of polysyllables\npronounced slow. Hence, by similarity of emotions, the latter is\nimitative of the former:\n\n    In those deep solitudes and awful cells,\n    Where heav\u2019nly-pensive Contemplation dwells,\n    And ever-musing Melancholy reigns.\n         _Pope. Eloisa to Abelard._\n\nEighthly, a long syllable made short, or a short syllable made long,\nraises, by the difficulty of pronouncing contrary to custom, a feeling\nsimilar to that of hard labour:\n\n    When Ajax strives some rock\u2019s _vast_ weight to throw,\n    The line too labours, and the words move slow.\n         _Essay on Crit. 370._\n\nNinthly, harsh or rough words pronounced with difficulty, excite a\nfeeling resembling that which proceeds from the labour of thought to a\ndull writer:\n\n    Just writes to make his barrenness appear,\n    And strains from hard-bound brains eight lines a-year.\n         _Pope\u2019s epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, l. 181._\n\nI shall close with one other example, which of all makes the finest\nfigure. In the first section mention is made of a climax in sound, and\nin the second of a climax in sense. It belongs to the present subject\nto observe, that when these coincide in the same passage, the\nconcordance of sound and sense is delightful. The reader is conscious\nnot only of pleasure from the two climaxes separately, but of an\nadditional pleasure from their concordance, and from finding the sense\nso justly imitated by the sound. In this respect, no periods are more\nperfect than those borrowed from Cicero in the first section.\n\nThe concord betwixt sense and sound is not less agreeable in what may be\ntermed an _anticlimax_, where the progress is from great to little; for\nthis has the effect to make diminutive objects appear still more\ndiminutive. Horace affords a striking example:\n\n    Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus.\n\nThe arrangement here is singularly artful. The first place is occupied\nby the verb, which is the capital word by its sense as well as sound.\nThe close is reserved for the word that is the meanest in sense as well\nas in sound. And it must not be overlooked, that the resembling sounds\nof the two last syllables give a ludicrous air to the whole.\n\nReviewing the foregoing examples, it appears to me, contrary to\nexpectation, that in passing from the strongest resemblances to those\nthat are fainter, the pleasure rises gradually in proportion. Can this\nbe accounted for? or shall I renounce my taste as capricious? When I\nrenew the experiment again and again, I feel no wavering, but the\ngreatest pleasure constantly from the faintest resemblances. And yet how\ncan this be? for if the pleasure lie in imitation, must not the\nstrongest resemblance afford the greatest pleasure? From this vexing\ndilemma, I am happily relieved, by reflecting on a doctrine established\nin the chapter of resemblance and contrast, that the pleasure of\nresemblance is the greatest, where it is least expected, and where the\nobjects compared are in their capital circumstances widely different.\nNor will this appear surprising, when we descend to familiar examples.\nIt raiseth not wonder in the smallest degree, to find the most perfect\nresemblance betwixt two eggs of the same animal. It is more rare to\nfind such resemblance betwixt two human faces; and upon that account\nsuch an appearance raises some degree of wonder. But this emotion rises\nto a still greater height, when we find in a pebble, an aggat, or any\nnatural production, a perfect resemblance to a tree or other organised\nbody. We cannot hesitate a moment, in applying these observations to the\npresent subject. What occasion of wonder can it be to find one sound\nresembling another, where both are of the same kind? It is not so common\nto find a resemblance betwixt an articulate sound and one not\narticulate; and accordingly the imitation here affords some slight\npleasure. But the pleasure swells greatly, when we employ sound to\nimitate things it resembles not otherwise than by the effects produced\nin the mind.\n\nI have had occasion to observe, that to complete the resemblance betwixt\nsound and sense, artful pronunciation contributes not a little.\nPronunciation therefore may be considered as a branch of the present\nsubject; and with some observations upon it I shall conclude the\nsection.\n\nIn order to give a just idea of pronunciation, it must be distinguished\nfrom singing. The latter is carried on by notes, requiring each of them\na different aperture of the windpipe. The notes properly belonging to\nthe former, are expressed by different apertures of the mouth, without\nvarying the aperture of the windpipe. This however doth not hinder\npronunciation to borrow from singing, as a man sometimes is naturally\nled to do, in expressing a vehement passion.\n\nIn reading, as in singing, there is a key-note. Above this note the\nvoice is frequently elevated, to make the sound correspond to the\nelevation of the subject. But the mind in an elevated state, is disposed\nto action. Therefore in order to a rest, it must be brought down to the\nkey-note. Hence the term _cadence_.\n\nThe only general rule that can be given for directing the pronunciation,\nis, To sound the words in such a manner as to imitate the things they\nrepresent, or of which they are the symbols. The ideas which make the\ngreatest figure, ought to be expressed with a peculiar emphasis. In\nexpressing an elevated subject, the voice ought to be raised above its\nordinary pitch; and words signifying dejection of mind, ought to be\npronounced in a low note. A succession of sounds gradually ascending\nfrom low to high notes, represents an ascending series of objects. An\nopposite succession of sounds, is fitted for objects or sentiments that\ndescend gradually. In Dryden\u2019s ode of _Alexander\u2019s feast_, the line,\n_Faln, faln, faln, faln_, ought to be pronounced with a falling voice;\nand is pronounced in that manner, by every one of taste, without\ninstruction. Another circumstance contributes to the resemblance betwixt\nsense and sound, which is slow or quick pronunciation. For though the\nlength or shortness of the syllables with relation to each other, be in\nprose ascertained in some measure, and in verse always; yet taking a\nwhole line or period together, it is arbitrary to pronounce it slow or\nfast. Hence it is, that a period expressing what is solemn or\ndeliberate, ought to be pronounced slow; and ought to be pronounced\nquick, when it expresses any thing brisk, lively, or impetuous.\n\nThe art of pronouncing with propriety and grace, being calculated to\nmake the sound an echo to the sense, scarce admits of any other general\nrule than that above mentioned. This rule may indeed be branched out\ninto many particular rules and observations: but these belong not\nproperly to the present undertaking, because they cannot be explained in\nwords. We have not words to signify the different degrees of high and\nlow, loud and soft, fast and slow; and before these differences can be\nmade the subject of regular instruction, notes must be invented\nresembling those employ\u2019d in music. We have reason to believe, that in\nGreece every tragedy was accompanied with such notes, in order to\nascertain the pronunciation. But the moderns hitherto have not thought\nof this refinement. Cicero indeed[95], without the help of notes,\npretends to give rules for ascertaining the several tones of voice that\nare proper in expressing the several passions; and it must be\nacknowledged, that in this attempt he has exhausted the whole power of\nlanguage. At the same time, every person of judgement must see, that\nthese rules avail little in point of instruction. The very words he\nemploys, are scarce intelligible, except to those who beforehand are\nacquainted with the subject.\n\nTo vary the scene a little, I propose to close with a slight comparison\nbetwixt singing and pronouncing. In this comparison the five following\ncircumstances relative to articulate sound, must be kept in view. 1st,\nIt is harsh or smooth. 2d, A sound or syllable, is long or short. 3d, It\nis pronounced high or low. 4th, It is pronounced loud or soft. And,\nlastly, a number of words in succession constituting a period or member\nof a period, are pronounced slow or quick. Of these five, the first\ndepending on the component letters, and the second being ascertained by\ncustom, admit not any variety in pronouncing. The three last are\narbitrary, depending on the will of the person who pronounces; and it\nis chiefly in the artful management of these, that just pronunciation\nconsists. With respect to the first circumstance, music has evidently\nthe advantage; for all its notes are agreeable to the ear, which is not\nalways the case of articulate sound. With respect to the second, long\nand short syllables variously combined, produce a great variety of feet;\nyet far inferior to the variety which is found in the multiplied\ncombinations of musical notes. With respect to high and low notes,\npronunciation is still more inferior to singing. For it is observed by\nDionysius of Halicarnassus[96], that in pronouncing, _i.e._ without\naltering the aperture of the windpipe, the voice is confined within\nthree notes and a half. Singing has a much greater compass. With respect\nto the two last circumstances, pronunciation equals singing.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn this discourse, I have mentioned none of the beauties of language,\nbut what arise from words taken in their proper sense. Those beauties\nthat depend on the metaphorical and figurative power of words, are\nreserved to be treated in chap. 20.\n\n\nSECT. IV.\n\n_VERSIFICATION._\n\nThe music of verse, though handled by every grammarian, merits more\nattention than has been given it. The subject is intimately connected\nwith human nature; and to explain it thoroughly, several nice and\ndelicate feelings must be employ\u2019d. Entering upon this subject, it\noccurs as a preliminary point, By what mark is verse distinguished from\nprose? The discussion of this point is necessary, were it for no other\npurpose but to ascertain the nature and limits of our subject. To\nproduce this distinguishing mark, is a task not perhaps so easy as may\nat first be apprehended. Verse of every sort, has, it is true, rules\nfor its construction. It is composed of feet, the number and variety of\nwhich are ascertained. Prose, though also composed of feet, is more\nloose and scarce subjected to any rules. But many are ignorant of these\nrules: Are such left without means to make the distinction? And even\nwith respect to the learned, must they apply the rule before they can\nwith certainty pronounce whether the composition be prose or verse? This\nwill hardly be maintained; and therefore, instead of rules, the ear must\nbe appealed to as the proper judge. But what gain we by being thus\nreferred to another standard? It still recurs, by what mark does the ear\ndistinguish verse from prose? The proper and satisfactory answer is,\nThat these make different impressions, which are readily distinguishable\nby every one who hath an ear. This advances us one step in our inquiry.\n\nTaking it then for granted, that verse makes upon the ear a different\nimpression from that of prose; nothing remains but to explain this\ndifference, and to assign its cause. To these ends, I must call to my\naid an observation made above in treating of the sound of words, that\nthey are more agreeable to the ear when composed of long and short\nsyllables than when all the syllables are of the same sort. A continued\nsound in the same tone, makes an impression that comes not up to any\nidea we have of music. The same note successively renewed by intervals,\nis more agreeable; but still makes not a musical impression. To produce\nthis impression, variety is necessary as well as number. The successive\nsounds or syllables, must be some of them long, some of them short; and\nif also high and low, the music is the more perfect. Now if this\nimpression can be made by single words, much more by a plurality in an\norderly succession. The musical impression made by a period consisting\nof long and short syllables arranged in a certain order, is what the\nGreeks call _rhythmus_, the Latins, _numerus_, and we _modulation_ or\n_measure_. Cicero justly observes, that in one continued sound there is\nno modulation: \u201cNumerus in continuatione nullus est.\u201d But in what\nfollows he is wide of the truth, if by _numerus_ he means modulation or\nmusical measure. \u201cDistinctio, et \u00e6qualium et s\u00e6pe variorum intervallorum\npercussio, numerum conficit; quem in cadentibus guttis, quod intervallis\ndistinguuntur, notare possumus.\u201d Falling drops, whether with equal or\nunequal intervals, are certainly not musical. We begin then only to be\nsensible of a musical expression, when the notes are varied. And this\nalso was probably the opinion of the author cited, though his expression\nbe a little unguarded[97].\n\nIt will probably occur, that modulation, so far as connected with long\nand short syllables combined in a sentence, may be found in prose as\nwell as in verse; considering especially, that in both, particular words\nare accented or pronounced in a higher tone than ordinary; and\ntherefore that the difference betwixt them cannot consist in modulation\nmerely. The observation is just; and it follows, that the distinction\nbetwixt prose and verse, since it depends not on modulation merely, must\narise from the difference of the modulation. This is precisely the case,\nthough the difference cannot with any accuracy be explained in words.\nVerse is more musical than prose; and of the former, the modulation is\nmore perfect than of the latter. The difference betwixt verse and prose,\nresembles the difference in music properly so called betwixt the song\nand the recitative. And the resemblance is not the less complete, that\nthese differences, like the shades of colours, approximate sometimes so\nnearly as scarce to be discernible. A recitative in its movement\napproaches sometimes to the liveliness of a song; which on the other\nhand degenerates sometimes toward a plain recitative. Nothing is more\ndistinguishable from prose, than the bulk of Virgil\u2019s hexameters. Many\nof those composed by Horace, are very little removed from prose.\nSapphic verse has a very sensible modulation. That on the other hand of\nan Iambic, is extremely faint[98].\n\nThis more perfect modulation of articulate sounds, is what\ndistinguisheth verse from prose. Verse is subjected to certain\ninflexible laws. The number and variety of the component syllables are\nascertained, and in some measure the order of succession. Such restraint\nmakes it a matter of difficulty to compose in verse; a difficulty that\nis not to be surmounted but by a singular genius. Useful lessons of\nevery sort convey\u2019d to us in verse, are agreeable by the union of music\nwith instruction. But are we for that reason to reject knowledge offered\nin a plainer dress? This would be ridiculous; for knowledge may be\nacquired without music, and music is entertaining independent of\nknowledge. Many there are, not less willing than capable to instruct\nus, who have no genius for verse. Hence the use of prose, which, for the\nreason now given, is not confined to precise rules. There belongs to it,\na certain modulation of an inferior kind, which, being extremely\nornamental, ought to be the aim of every writer. But to succeed in it,\npractice is necessary more than genius. Nor are we rigid on this\narticle. Provided the work answer its chief end of instruction, we are\nthe less solicitous about its dress.\n\nHaving ascertained the nature and limits of our subject, I proceed to\nthe laws by which it is regulated. These would be endless, were verse of\nall different kinds to be taken under consideration. I propose therefore\nto confine the inquiry, to Latin or Greek hexameter, and to French and\nEnglish heroic verse; which perhaps will carry me farther than the\nreader may chuse to follow. The observations I shall have occasion to\nmake, will at any rate be sufficient for a specimen; and these with\nproper variations may easily be transferred to the composition of other\nsorts of verse.\n\nBefore I enter upon particulars, it must be premised in general, that\nto verse of every kind, five things are of importance. 1st, The number\nof syllables that compose a verse. 2d, The different lengths of\nsyllables, _i.e._ the difference of time taken in pronouncing. 3d, The\narrangement of these syllables combined in words. 4th, The pauses or\nstops in pronouncing. 5th, Pronouncing syllables in a high or low tone.\nThe three first mentioned are obviously essential to verse. If any of\nthem be wanting, there cannot be that higher degree of modulation which\ndistinguisheth verse from prose. To give a just notion of the fourth, it\nmust be observed, that pauses are necessary for three different\npurposes. One is, to separate periods and members of the same period\naccording to the sense: another is, to improve the modulation of verse:\nand the last is, to afford opportunity for drawing breath in reading. A\npause of the first kind is variable, being long or short, frequent or\nless frequent, as the sense requires. A pause of the second kind, is in\nno degree arbitrary; its place being determined by the modulation. The\nlast sort again is in a measure arbitrary, depending on the reader\u2019s\ncommand of breath. This sort ought always to coincide with the first or\nsecond; for one cannot read with grace, unless, for drawing breath,\nopportunity be taken of a pause in the sense or in the melody; and for\nthat reason this pause may be neglected. With respect then to the pauses\nof sense and of melody, it may be affirmed without hesitation, that\ntheir coincidence in verse is a capital beauty. But as it cannot be\nexpected, in a long work especially, that every line should be so\nperfect; we shall afterward have occasion to see, that the pause\nnecessary for sense must often, in some degree, be sacrificed to the\nverse-pause; and the latter sometimes to the former.\n\nThe pronouncing syllables in a high or low tone, contributes also to\nmelody. In reading, whether verse or prose, a certain tone is assumed,\nwhich may be called _the key-note_; and in this tone the bulk of the\nwords are sounded. Sometimes to humour the sense and sometimes the\nmelody, a particular syllable is sounded in a higher tone; and this is\ntermed _accenting a syllable_, or gracing it with an accent. Opposed to\nthe accent, is the cadence, which I have not mentioned as one of the\nrequisites of verse, because it is entirely regulated by the sense, and\nhath no peculiar relation to verse. The cadence is a falling of the\nvoice below the key-note at the close of every period; and so little is\nit essential to verse, that in correct reading the final syllable of\nevery line is accented, that syllable only excepted which closes the\nperiod, where the sense requires a cadence. The reader may be satisfied\nof this by experiments; and for that purpose I recommend to him the\n_Rape of the Lock_, which, in point of versification, is the most\ncomplete performance in the English language. Let him consult in\nparticular a period canto 2. beginning at line 47. and closed line 52.\nwith the word _gay_, which only of the whole final syllables is\npronounced with a cadence. He may also examine another period in the 5th\ncanto, which runs from line 45. to line 52.\n\nThough the five requisites above mentioned, enter the composition of\nevery species of verse, they are however governed by different rules,\npeculiar to each species. Upon quantity only, one general observation\nmay be premised, because it is applicable to every species of verse.\nSyllables, with respect to the time taken in pronouncing, are\ndistinguished into long and short; two short syllables, with respect to\ntime, being precisely equal to one long. These two lengths are essential\nto verse of all kinds; and to no verse, so far as I know, is a greater\nvariety of time necessary in pronouncing syllables. The voice indeed is\nfrequently made to rest longer than commonly, upon a word that bears an\nimportant signification. But this is done to humour the sense, and is\nnot necessary for the modulation. A thing not more necessary occurs with\nrespect to accenting, similar to that now mentioned. A word signifying\nany thing humble, low, or dejected, is naturally, in prose as well as in\nverse, pronounced in a tone below the key-note.\n\nWe are now sufficiently prepared for entering upon particulars; and\nLatin or Greek Hexameter, which are the same, coming first in order, I\nshall exhaust what I have to say upon this species of verse, under the\nfour following heads; of number, arrangement, pause, and accent; for as\nto quantity, so far as concerns the present point, what is observed\nabove may suffice.\n\nHexameter lines are, with respect to time, all of the same length. A\nline may consist of seventeen syllables; and when regular and not\nSpondaic, it never has fewer than thirteen. Hence it is plain, that\nwhere the syllables are many, the plurality must be short; where few,\nthe plurality must be long. And upon the whole, the number of syllables\nin every line with respect to the time taken in pronouncing, are\nequivalent to twelve long syllables, or twenty-four short.\n\nWith regard to arrangement, this line is susceptible of much variety.\nThe succession of long and short syllables, may be greatly varied\nwithout injuring the melody. It is subjected however to laws, that\nconfine its variety within certain limits. For trying the arrangement,\nand for determining whether it be perfect or faulty, grammarians have\ninvented a rule by Dactyles and Spondees, which they denominate _feet_.\nOne at first view is led to think, that these feet are also intended to\nregulate the pronunciation. But this is far from being the case. It will\nappear by and by, that the rules of pronunciation are very different.\nAnd indeed were one to pronounce according to these feet, the melody of\na Hexameter line would be destroy\u2019d, or at best be much inferior to what\nit is when properly pronounced[99]. These feet then must be confined to\ntheir sole province of regulating the arrangement, for they serve no\nother purpose. They are withal so artificial and complex, that,\nneglecting them altogether, I am tempted to substitute in their room,\nother rules, more simple and of more easy application; for example, the\nfollowing. 1st, The line must always commence with a long syllable, and\nclose with two long preceded by two short. 2d, More than two short can\nnever be found in any part of the line, nor fewer than two if any. And,\n3d, Two long syllables which have been preceded by two short, cannot\nalso be followed by two short. These few rules fulfil all the conditions\nof a Hexameter line, with relation to order or arrangement. To these\nagain a single rule may be substituted, for which I have a still greater\nrelish, as it regulates more affirmatively the construction of every\npart. That I may put this rule into words with the greater facility, I\ntake a hint from the twelve long syllables that compose an Hexameter\nline, to divide it into twelve equal parts or portions, being each of\nthem one long syllable or two short. This preliminary being established,\nthe rule is shortly what follows. The 1st, 3d, 5th, 7th, 9th, 11th, and\n12th portions, must each of them be one long syllable; the 10th must\nalways be two short syllables; the 2d, 4th, 6th, and 8th, may\nindifferently be one long or two short. Or to express the thing still\nmore curtly, The 2d, 4th, 6th, and 8th portions may be one long syllable\nor two short; the 10th must be two short syllables; all the rest must\nconsist of one long syllable. This fulfils all the conditions of an\nHexameter line, and comprehends all the combinations of Dactyles and\nSpondees that this line admits.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNext in order comes the pause. At the end of every Hexameter line, no\near but must be sensible of a complete close or full pause. This effect\nis produced by the following means. Every line invariably is finished\nwith two long syllables preceded by two short; a fine preparation for a\nfull close. Syllables pronounced slow, resemble a slow and languid\nmotion tending to rest. The mind put in the same tone by the\npronunciation, is naturally disposed to a pause. And to this disposition\nthe two preceding short syllables contribute; for these, by contrast,\nmake the slow pronunciation of the final syllables the more conspicuous.\nBeside this complete close or full pause at the end, others are also\nrequisite for the sake of melody. I discover two clearly, and perhaps\nthere may be more. The longest and most remarkable, succeeds the 5th\nportion, according to the foregoing measure. The other, which being more\nfaint, may be called _the semipause_, succeeds the 8th portion. So\nstriking is the pause first mentioned, as to be distinguished even by\nthe rudest ear. The monkish rhymes are evidently built upon it. In\nthese, it is an invariable rule, to make the final word chime with that\nwhich immediately precedes the pause:\n\n    De planctu endo || mitrum cum carmine nudo\n    Mingere cum bumbis || res est soluberrima lumbis.\n\nThe difference of time in the pause and semipause, occasions another\ndifference not less remarkable. The pause ought regularly to be at the\nend of a word; but it is lawful to divide a word by a semipause. The bad\neffect of dividing a word by the pause, is sensibly felt in the\nfollowing examples.\n\n    Effusus labor, at||que inmitis rupta Tyranni\n\nAgain,\n\n    Observans nido im||plumes detraxit; at illa\n\nAgain,\n\n    Loricam quam De||moleo detraxerat ipse\n\nThe dividing a word by a semipause has not the same bad effect:\n\n    Jamque pedem referens || casus e|vaserat omnes.\n\nAgain,\n\n    Qualis populea || m\u0153rens Philo|mela sub umbra\n\nAgain,\n\n    Ludere qu\u00e6 vellem || calamo per|misit agresti.\n\nLines, however, where words are left entire to be pronounced as they\nought to be, without being divided even by a semipause, run by that\nmeans much the more sweetly.\n\n    Nec gemere a\u00ebrea || cessabit | turtur ab ulmo.\n\nAgain,\n\n    Quadrupedante putrem || sonitu quatit | ungula campum.\n\nAgain,\n\n    Eurydicen toto || referebant | flumine rip\u00e6.\n\nThe reason of these observations, will be evident upon the slightest\nreflection. Betwixt things so intimately connected as sense and sound in\npronunciation, to find discordance is unpleasant to the ear; and for\nthat reason, it is a matter of importance, to make the musical pauses\ncoincide as much as possible with those of the sense. This is requisite,\nmore especially, with respect to the pause. A deviation from the rule\nis less remarkable in a semipause, which makes but a slight impression.\nConsidering the matter as to modulation solely, it is indifferent\nwhether the pauses be at the end of words or in the middle. But when we\ncarry the sense along, nothing is more disagreeable than to find a word\nsplit into two parts, neither of which separately have any meaning. This\nbad effect, though it regard the sense only, is by an easy transition of\nideas transferred to the sound, with which the sense is intimately\nconnected; and by this means, we conceive a line to be harsh and grating\nto the ear, which in reality is only so to the understanding[100].\n\nTo the rule which places the pause after the 5th portion, there is one\nexception, and no more. If the syllable succeeding the 5th portion be\nshort, the pause is sometimes postponed to it:\n\n    Pupillis quos dura || premit custodia matrum\n\nAgain,\n\n    In terris oppressa || gravi sub religione\n\nAgain,\n\n    Et quorum pars magna || fui; quis talia fando\n\nThis contributes to diversify the melody; and where the words are smooth\nand liquid, is not ungraceful; as in the following examples.\n\n    Formosam resonare || doces Amaryllida sylvas\n\nAgain,\n\n    Agricolas, quibus ipsa || procul discordibus armis\n\nIf this pause, postponed as aforesaid to the short syllable, happen also\nto divide a word, the melody by these circumstances is totally\nannihilated: witness the following line of Ennius, which is plain prose.\n\n    Rom\u00e6 m\u0153nia terru||it impiger | Hannibal armis\n\nHitherto the arrangement of the long and short syllables of an Hexameter\nline and its different pauses, have been considered with respect to\nmelody. But to have a just notion of Hexameter verse, these particulars\nmust also be considered with respect to sense. There is not perhaps in\nany other sort of verse, such a latitude in the long and short\nsyllables. This circumstance contributes greatly to that richness of\nmodulation which is remarkable in Hexameter verse; and which makes\nAristotle pronounce, that an epic poem in any other sort would not\nsucceed[101]. One defect however must not be dissembled. The same means\nthat contribute to the richness of the melody, render it less fit than\nseveral other sorts for a narrative poem. With regard to the melody, as\nabove observed, there cannot be a more artful contrivance than to close\nan Hexameter line with two long syllables preceded by two short. But\nunhappily this construction proves a great imbarrassment to the sense;\nas will be evident from what follows. As in general there ought to be a\nstrict concordance betwixt every thought and the words in which it is\ndressed, so in particular, every close in the sense, complete and\nincomplete, ought to be accompanied with a similar close in the sound.\nIn the composition of prose, there is sufficient latitude for applying\nthis rule in the strictest manner. But the same strictness in verse,\nwould occasion insuperable difficulties. Some share of the concordance\nbetwixt thought and expression, may be justly sacrificed to the melody\nof verse; and therefore during the course of a line, we freely excuse\nthe want of coincidence of the musical pause with that of the sense. But\nthe close of an Hexameter line is too conspicuous to admit a total\nneglect of this coincidence. And hence it follows, that there ought to\nbe always some pause in the sense at the end of every Hexameter line,\nwere it but such a pause as is marked with a comma. It follows also, for\nthe same reason, that there ought never to be a full close in the sense\nbut at the end of a line, because there the modulation is closed. An\nHexameter line, to preserve its melody, cannot well permit any greater\nrelaxation; and yet in a narrative poem, it is extremely difficult to\nkeep up to the rule even with these indulgences. Virgil, the greatest\npoet for versification that ever existed, is forc\u2019d often to end a line\nwithout any close in the sense, and as often to close the sense during\nthe running of a line: though a close in the melody during the movement\nof the thought, or a close in the thought during the movement of the\nmelody, cannot fail to be disagreeable.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe accent, to which we proceed, is not less essential than the other\ncircumstances above handled. By a good ear it will be discerned, that in\nevery line there is one syllable distinguishable from the rest by a\nstrong accent. This syllable making the 7th portion, is invariably long;\nand in point of time occupies a place nearly at an equal distance from\nthe pause which succeeds the 5th portion, and the semipause, which\nsucceeds the 8th:\n\n    Nec bene promeritis || capit\u00fbr nec | tangitur ira\n\nAgain,\n\n    Non sibi sed toto || genit\u00fbm se | credere mundo\n\nAgain,\n\n    Qualis spelunca || subit\u00f4 com|mota columba\n\nIn these examples, the accent is laid upon the last syllable of a word.\nAnd that this is a favourable circumstance for the melody, will appear\nfrom the following consideration. In reading, there must be some pause\nafter every word, to separate it from what follows; and this pause,\nhowever short, supports the accent. Hence it is, that a line thus\naccented, has a more spirited air, than where the accent is placed on\nany other syllable. Compare the foregoing lines with the following.\n\n    Alba neque Assyrio || fuc\u00e2tur | lana veneno\n\nAgain,\n\n    Panditur interea || domus \u00f4mnipo|tentis Olympi\n\nAgain,\n\n    Olli sedato || resp\u00f4ndit | corde Latinus\n\nIn lines where the pause comes after the short syllable succeeding the\n5th portion, the accent is displaced and rendered less sensible. It\nseems to be split into two, and to be laid partly on the 5th portion,\nand partly on the 7th, its usual place; as in\n\n    Nuda genu, nod\u00f4que || sin\u00fbs col|lecta fluentes\n\nAgain,\n\n    Formosam reson\u00e2re || doc\u00eas Amar|yllida sylvas\n\nBeside this capital accent, slighter accents are laid upon other\nportions; particularly upon the 4th, unless where it consists of two\nshort syllables; upon the 9th, which is always a long syllable; and upon\nthe 11th, where the line concludes with a monosyllable. Such conclusion,\nby the by, lessens the melody, and for that reason is not to be indulged\nunless where it is expressive of the sense. The following lines are\nmarked with all the accents.\n\n    Ludere qu\u00e6 v\u00eallem calam\u00f4 perm\u00eesit agresti\n\nAgain,\n\n    Et dur\u00e6 qu\u00earcus sud\u00e2bunt r\u00f4scida mella\n\nAgain,\n\n    Parturiunt m\u00f4ntes, nasc\u00eatur r\u00eedicul\u00fbs mus\n\nInquiring into the melody of Hexameter verse, we soon discover, that\norder or arrangement doth not constitute the whole of it. Comparing\ndifferent lines, equally regular as to the succession of long and short\nsyllables, the melody is found in very different degrees of perfection.\nNor does the difference arise from any particular combination of\nDactyles and Spondees, or of long and short syllables. On the contrary,\nwe find lines where Dactyles prevail and lines where Spondees prevail,\nequally melodious. Of the former take the following instance:\n\n    \u00c6neadum genetrix hominum divumque voluptas.\n\nOf the latter:\n\n    Molli paulatim flavescet campus arista.\n\nWhat can be more different as to melody than the two following lines,\nwhich, however, as to the succession of long and short syllables, are\nconstructed precisely in the same manner?\n\n    Spond. Dact. Spond. Spond. Dact. Spond.\n    Ad talos stola dimissa et circumdata palla. _Hor._\n\n    Spond. Dact. Spond. Spond. Dact. Spond.\n    Placatumque nitet diffuso lumine c\u0153lum. _Lucret._\n\nIn the former, the pause falls in the middle of a word, which is a great\nblemish, and the accent is disturbed by a harsh elision of the vowel _a_\nupon the particle _et_. In the latter the pauses and the accent are all\nof them distinct and full: there is no elision: and the words are more\nliquid and sounding. In these particulars consists the beauty of an\nHexameter line with respect to melody; and by neglecting these, many\nlines in the Satires and Epistles of Horace are less agreeable than\nplain prose; for they are neither the one nor the other in perfection.\nTo make these lines sound, they must be pronounced without relation to\nthe sense. It must not be regarded, that words are divided by pauses,\nnor that harsh elisions are multiplied. To add to the account, prosaic\nlow sounding words are introduced; and which is still worse, accents are\nlaid on them. Of such faulty lines take the following instances.\n\n    Candida rectaque sit, munda hactenus sit neque longa.\n    Jupiter exclamat simul atque audirit; at in se\n    Custodes, lectica, ciniflones, parasit\u00e6\n    Optimus est modulator, ut Alfenus Vafer omni\n    Nunc illud tantum qu\u00e6ram, meritone tibi sit.\n\nNext in order comes English heroic verse, which shall be examined under\nthe whole five heads, of number, quantity, arrangement, pause, and\naccent. This verse sometimes employs rhymes and sometimes not, which\ndistinguishes it into two kinds; one named _metre_, and one _blank\nverse_. In the former, the lines are connected two and two by similarity\nof sound in the final syllables; and such connected lines are termed\n_couplets_. Similarity of sound being avoided in the latter, banishes\ncouplets. These two sorts must be handled separately, because there are\nmany peculiarities in each. The first article with respect to rhyme or\nmetre, shall be discussed in a few words. Every line consists of ten\nsyllables, five short and five long. There are but two exceptions, both\nof them rare. A couplet can bear to be drawn out, by adding a short\nsyllable at the end of each of the two lines:\n\n    There hero\u2019s wits are kept in pond\u2019rous vases,\n    And beau\u2019s in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases.\n\n    The piece, you think, is incorrect? Why, take it;\n    I\u2019m all submission; what you\u2019d have it, make it.\n\nThis licence is sufferable in a single couplet; but if frequent would\nsoon become disgustful.\n\nThe other exception concerns the second line of a couplet, which is\nsometimes stretched out to twelve syllables, termed an _Alexandrine\nline_.\n\n    A needless Alexandrine ends the song,\n    That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.\n\nIt doth extremely well when employ\u2019d to close a period with a certain\npomp and solemnity suitable to the subject.\n\nWith regard to the second article, it is unnecessary to mention a second\ntime, that the quantities employ\u2019d in verse are but two, the one double\nof the other; that every syllable is reducible to one or other of these\nstandards; and that a syllable of the larger quantity is termed _long_,\nand of the lesser quantity _short_. It belongs more to the present\narticle, to examine what peculiarities there may be in the English\nlanguage as to long and short syllables. In every language, there are\nsyllables that may be pronounced long or short at pleasure; but the\nEnglish above all abounds in syllables of that kind. In words of three\nor more syllables, the quantity for the most part is invariable. The\nexceptions are more frequent in dissyllables; but as to monosyllables,\nthey may without many exceptions be pronounced either long or short. Nor\nis the ear hurt by this liberty; being accustomed to the variation of\nquantity in the same word. This shows that the melody of English verse\nmust depend less upon quantity, than upon other circumstances. In that\nparticular it differs widely from Latin verse. There, every syllable\nhaving but one sound, strikes the ear constantly with its accustomed\nimpression; and a reader must be delighted to find a number of such\nsyllables, disposed so artfully as to raise a lively sense of melody.\nSyllables variable in quantity cannot possess this power. Custom may\nrender familiar, both a long and short pronunciation of the same word;\nbut the mind constantly wavering betwixt the two sounds, cannot be so\nmuch affected with a syllable of this kind as with one which bears\nalways the same sound. What I have further to say upon quantity, will\ncome in more properly under the following head, of arrangement.\n\nAnd with respect to arrangement, which may be brought within a narrow\ncompass, the English heroic line is commonly Iambic, the first syllable\nshort, the second long, and so on alternately through the whole line.\nOne exception there is, pretty frequent. Many lines commence with a\nTroch\u00e6us, _viz._ a long and a short syllable. But this affects not the\norder of the following syllables. These go on alternately as usual, one\nshort and one long. The following couplet affords an example of each\nkind:\n\n    S\u014dme \u012dn th\u0115 f\u012belds \u014ff p\u016br\u0115st \u01e3th\u0115r pl\u0101y,\n    \u0102nd b\u0101sk \u0103nd wh\u012bt\u0115n \u012bn th\u0115 bl\u0101ze \u014ff d\u0101y.\n\nIt is unhappy in the construction of English verse, that it excludes the\nbulk of polysyllables, though the most sounding words in our language;\nfor upon examination it will be found, that very few of them are\ncomposed of such alternation of long and short syllables as to\ncorrespond to either of the arrangements mentioned. English verse\naccordingly is almost totally reduced to dissyllables and monosyllables.\n_Magnanimity_ is a sounding word totally excluded. _Impetuosity_ is\nstill a finer word by the resemblance of the sound and sense; and yet a\nnegative is put upon it, as well as upon numberless words of the same\nkind. Polysyllables composed of syllables long and short alternately,\nmake a good figure in verse; for example, _observance_, _opponent_,\n_ostensive_, _pindaric_, _productive_, _prolific_, and such others of\nthree syllables. _Imitation_, _imperfection_, _misdemeanour_,\n_mitigation_, _moderation_, _observator_, _ornamental_, _regulator_, and\nothers similar of four syllables, beginning with two short syllables,\nthe third long, and the fourth short, may find a place in a line\ncommencing with a Troch\u00e6us. I know not if there be any of five\nsyllables. One I know of six, _viz._ _misinterpretation_. But words so\ncomposed are not frequent in our language.\n\nOne would not imagine without trial, how uncouth false quantity appears\nin verse; not less than a provincial tone or idiom. The article _the_ is\none of the few monosyllables that is invariably short. See how harsh it\nmakes a line where it must be pronounced long:\n\n    Th\u012ds n\u0233mph, t\u014f th\u0113 d\u0115str\u016bcti\u014fn \u014df m\u0103nk\u012bnd,\n\nAgain:\n\n    Th\u2019 \u0103dv\u0113nt\u2019r\u014fus b\u0101r\u014fn th\u0113 br\u012dght l\u014dcks \u0103dm\u012br\u2019d.\n\nLet the article be pronounced short, and it reduces the melody almost to\nnothing. Better so however than a false quantity. In the following\nexamples we perceive the same defect.\n\n    And old impertinence || expel by new.\n\n    With varying vanities || from ev\u2019ry part.\n\n    Love in these labyrinths || his slaves detains.\n\n    New stratagems || the radiant lock to gain.\n\n    Her eyes half-languishing || half-drown\u2019d in tears.\n\n    Roar\u2019d for the handkerchief || that caus\u2019d his pain.\n\n    Passions like elements || though born to fight.\n\nThe great variety of modulation conspicuous in English verse, will be\nfound upon trial to arise chiefly from the pauses and accents; and\ntherefore these circumstances are of greater importance than is commonly\nthought. There is a degree of intricacy in this branch of our subject,\nand it will require some pains to give a distinct view of it. But we\nmust not be discouraged by difficulties. The pause, which paves the way\nto the accent, offers itself first to our examination. From a very short\ntrial, the following facts will be verified. 1st, A line admits but one\ncapital pause. 2d, In different lines, we find this pause after the\nfourth syllable, after the fifth, after the sixth, and after the\nseventh. These particulars lay a solid foundation for dividing English\nheroic lines into four sorts, distinguished by the different places of\nthe pause. Nor is this an idle distinction. On the contrary, unless it\nbe kept in view, we cannot have any just notion of the richness and\nvariety of English versification. Each sort or order hath a melody\npeculiar to itself, readily distinguishable by a good ear; and, in the\nsequel, I am not without hopes to make the cause of this peculiarity\nsufficiently evident. It must be observed, at the same time, that the\npause cannot be made indifferently at any of the places mentioned. It is\nthe sense that regulates the pause, as will be seen more fully\nafterward; and consequently, it is the sense that determines of what\norder every line must be. There can be but one capital musical pause in\na line; and this pause ought to coincide, if possible, with a pause in\nthe sense; in order that the sound may accord with the sense.\n\nWhat is said must be illustrated by examples of each sort or order. And\nfirst of the pause after the fourth syllable:\n\n    Back through the paths || of pleasing sense I ran\n\nAgain,\n\n    Profuse of bliss || and pregnant with delight\n\nAfter the 5th:\n\n    So when an angel || by divine command,\n    With rising tempests || shakes a guilty land,\n\nAfter the 6th:\n\n    Speed the soft intercourse || from soul to soul\n\nAgain,\n\n    Then from his closing eyes || thy form shall part\n\nAfter the 7th:\n\n    And taught the doubtful battle || where to rage\n\nAgain,\n\n    And in the smooth description || murmur still\n\nBeside the capital pause now mentioned, other inferior or semipauses\nwill be discovered by a nice ear. Of these there are commonly two in\neach line; one before the capital pause, and one after it. The former is\ninvariably placed after the first long syllable, whether the line begin\nwith a long syllable or a short. The other in its variety imitates the\ncapital pause. In some lines it follows the 6th syllable, in some the\n7th, and in some the 8th. Of these semipauses take the following\nexamples.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n1st and 8th:\n\n    Led | through a sad || variety | of wo.\n\n1st and 7th:\n\n    Still | on that breast || enamour\u2019d | let me lie\n\n2d and 8th:\n\n    From storms | a shelter || and from heat | a shade\n\n2d and 6th:\n\n    Let wealth | let honour || wait | the wedded dame\n\n2d and 7th:\n\n    Above | all pain || all passion | and all pride\n\nEven from these few examples, it appears, that the place of the last\nsemipause, like that of the full pause, is directed in a good measure by\nthe sense. Its proper place with respect to the melody is after the\neighth syllable, so as to finish the line with an Iambus distinctly\npronounced, which, by a long syllable after a short, is a preparation\nfor rest. If this hold, the placing this semipause after the 6th or\nafter the 7th syllable, must be directed by the sense, in order to avoid\na pause in the middle of a word, or betwixt two words intimately\nconnected; and so far melody is justly sacrificed to sense.\n\nIn discoursing of the full pause in a Hexameter line, it is laid down as\na rule, That it ought never to divide a word. Such licence deviates too\nfar from the connection that ought to be betwixt the pauses of sense\nand of melody. And in an English line, it is for the same reason equally\nwrong to divide a word by a full pause. Let us justify this reason by\nexperiments.\n\n    A noble super||fluity it craves\n\n    Abhor, a perpe||tuity should stand\n\nAre these lines distinguishable from prose? Scarcely, I think.\n\nThe same rule is not applicable to a semipause, which being short and\nfaint, is not sensibly disagreeable when it divides a word.\n\n    Relent|less walls || whose darksome round | contains\n\n    For her | white virgins || hyme|neals sing\n\n    In these | deep solitudes || and aw|ful cells\n\nIt must however be acknowledged, that the melody here suffers in some\ndegree. A word ought to be pronounced without any rest betwixt its\ncomponent syllables. The semipause must bend to this rule, and thereby\nvanisheth almost altogether.\n\nWith regard to the capital pause, it is so essential to the melody, that\na poet cannot be too nice in the choice of its place, in order to have\nit full, clear, and distinct. It cannot be placed more happily than with\na pause in the sense; and if the sense require but a comma after the\nfourth, fifth, sixth, or seventh syllable, there can be no difficulty\nabout this musical pause. But to make such coincidence essential, would\ncramp versification too much; and we have experience for our authority,\nthat there may be a pause in the melody where the sense requires none.\nWe must not however imagine, that a musical pause may be placed at the\nend of any word indifferently. Some words, like syllables of the same\nword, are so intimately connected as not to bear a separation even by a\npause. No good poet ever attempted to separate a substantive from its\narticle: the dividing such intimate companions, would be harsh and\nunpleasant. The following line, for example, cannot be pronounced with\na pause as marked.\n\n    If Delia smile, the || flow\u2019rs begin to spring\n\nBut ought to be pronounced in the following manner.\n\n    If Delia smile, || the flow\u2019rs begin to spring.\n\nIf then it be not a matter of indifferency where to make the pause,\nthere ought to be rules for determining what words may be separated by a\npause and what are incapable of such separation. I shall endeavour to\nunfold these rules; not chiefly for their utility, but in order to\nexemplify some latent principles that tend to regulate our taste even\nwhere we are scarce sensible of them. And to that end, it seems the\neligible method to run over the verbal relations, beginning with the\nmost intimate. The first that presents itself, is that of adjective and\nsubstantive, being the relation of substance and quality, the most\nintimate of all. A quality cannot exist independent of a substance, nor\nis it separable from it even in imagination, because they make parts of\nthe same idea; and for that reason, it must, with regard to melody, be\ndisagreeable, to bestow upon the adjective a sort of independent\nexistence, by interjecting a pause betwixt it and its substantive. I\ncannot therefore approve the following lines, nor any of the sort; for\nto my taste they are harsh and unpleasant.\n\n    Of thousand bright || inhabitants of air\n\n    The sprites of fiery || termagants inflame\n\n    The rest, his many-colour\u2019d || robe conceal\u2019d\n\n    The same, his ancient || personage to deck\n\n    Ev\u2019n here, where frozen || Chastity retires\n\n    I sit, with sad || civility, I read\n\n    Back to my native || moderation slide\n\n    Or shall we ev\u2019ry || decency confound\n\n    Time was, a sober || Englishman wou\u2019d knock\n\n    And place, on good || security, his gold\n\n    Taste, that eternal || wanderer, which flies\n\n    But ere the tenth || revolving day was run\n\n    First let the just || equivalent be paid\n\n    Go, threat thy earth-born || Myrmidons; but here\n\n    Haste to the fierce || Achilles\u2019 tent (he cries)\n\n    All but the ever-wakeful || eyes of Jove\n\n    Your own resistless || eloquence employ\n\nI have upon this article multiplied examples, that in a case where I\nhave the misfortune to dislike what passes current in practice, every\nman upon the spot may judge by his own taste. The foregoing reasoning,\nit is true, appears to me just: it is however too subtile, to afford\nconviction in opposition to taste.\n\nConsidering this matter in a superficial view, one might be apt to\nimagine, that it must be the same, whether the adjective go first, which\nis the natural order, or the substantive, which is indulged by the laws\nof inversion. But we soon discover this to be a mistake. Colour cannot\nbe conceived independent of the surface coloured; but a tree may be\nconceived, as growing in a certain spot, as of a certain kind, and as\nspreading its extended branches all around, without ever thinking of the\ncolour. In a word, qualities, though related all to one subject, may be\nconsidered separately, and the subject may be considered with some of\nits qualities independent of others; though we cannot form an image of\nany single quality independent of the subject. Thus then, though an\nadjective named first be inseparable from the substantive, the\nproposition does not reciprocate. An image can be formed of the\nsubstantive independent of the adjective; and for this reason, they may\nbe separated by a pause, when the former is introduced before the\nlatter:\n\n    For thee, the fates || severely kind ordain\n\n    And curs\u2019d with hearts || unknowing how to yield.\n\nThe verb and adverb are precisely in the same condition with the\nsubstantive and adjective. An adverb, which expresses a certain\nmodification of the action expressed by the verb, is not separable from\nit even in imagination. And therefore I must also give up the following\nlines.\n\n    And which it much || becomes you to forget\n\n    \u2019Tis one thing madly || to disperse my store\n\nBut an action may be conceived leaving out a particular modification,\nprecisely as a subject may be conceived leaving out a particular\nquality; and therefore when by inversion the verb is first introduced,\nit has no bad effect to interject a pause betwixt it and the adverb\nwhich follows. This may be done at the close of a line, where the pause\nis at least as full as that is which divides the line:\n\n    While yet he spoke, the Prince advancing drew\n    Nigh to the lodge, _&c._\n\nThe agent and its action come next, expressed in grammar by the active\nsubstantive and its verb. Betwixt these, placed in their natural order,\nthere is no difficulty of interjecting a pause. An active being is not\nalways in motion, and therefore it is easily separable in idea from its\naction. When in a sentence the substantive takes the lead, we know not\nthat action is to follow; and as rest must precede the commencement of\nmotion, this interval is a proper opportunity for a pause.\n\nOn the other hand, when by inversion the verb is placed first, is it\nlawful to separate it by a pause from the active substantive? I answer\nnot, because an action is not in idea separable from the agent, more\nthan a quality from the substance to which it belongs. Two lines of the\nfirst rate for beauty have always appeared to me exceptionable, upon\naccount of the pause thus interjected betwixt the verb and the\nconsequent substantive; and I have now discovered a reason to support my\ntaste:\n\n    In these deep solitudes and awful cells,\n    Where heav\u2019nly-pensive || Contemplation dwells,\n    And ever-musing || Melancholy reigns.\n\nThe point of the greatest delicacy regards the active verb and the\npassive substantive placed in their natural order. On the one side it\nwill be observed, that these words signify things which are not\nseparable in idea. Killing cannot be conceived without some being that\nis put to death, nor painting without a surface upon which the colours\nare spread. On the other side, an action and the thing on which it is\nexerted, are not, like substance and quality, united in one individual\nsubject. The active subject is perfectly distinct from that which is\npassive; and they are connected by one circumstance only, that the\naction exerted by the former, is exerted upon the latter. This makes it\npossible to take the action to pieces, and to consider it first with\nrelation to the agent, and next with relation to the patient. But after\nall, so intimately connected are the parts of the thought, that it\nrequires an effort to make a separation even for a moment. The\nsubtilising to such a degree is not agreeable, especially in works of\nimagination. The best poets however, taking advantage of this subtilty,\nscruple not to separate by a pause an active verb from its passive\nsubject. Such pauses in a long work may be indulged; but taken singly,\nthey certainly are not agreeable. I appeal to the following examples.\n\n    The peer now spreads || the glitt\u2019ring forfex wide\n\n    As ever sully\u2019d || the fair face of light\n\n    Repair\u2019d to search || the gloomy cave of Spleen\n\n    Nothing, to make || philosophy thy friend\n\n    Shou\u2019d chance to make || the well-dress\u2019d rabble stare\n\n    Or cross, to plunder || provinces, the main\n\n    These madmen never hurt || the church or state\n\n    How shall we fill || a library with wit\n\n    What better teach || a foreigner the tongue?\n\n    Sure, if I spare || the minister, no rules\n    Of honour bind me, not to maul his tools.\n\nOn the other hand, when the passive subject by inversion is first named,\nthere is no difficulty of interjecting a pause betwixt it and the verb,\nmore than when the active subject is first named. The same reason holds\nin both, that though a verb cannot be separated in idea from the\nsubstantive which governs it, and scarcely from the substantive it\ngoverns; yet a substantive may always be conceived independent of the\nverb. When the passive subject is introduced before the verb, we know\nnot that an action is to be exerted upon it; therefore we may rest till\nthe action commences. For the sake of illustration take the following\nexamples.\n\n    Shrines! where their vigils || pale-ey\u2019d virgins keep\n\n    Soon as thy letters || trembling I unclose\n\n    No happier task || these faded eyes pursue\n\nWhat is said about placing the pause, leads to a general observation,\nwhich I shall have occasion for afterwards. The natural order of placing\nthe active substantive and its verb, is more friendly to a pause than\nthe inverted order. But in all the other connections, inversion affords\nby far a better opportunity for a pause. Upon this depends one of the\ngreat advantages that blank verse hath over rhyme. The privilege of\ninversion, in which it far excels rhyme, gives it a much greater choice\nof pauses, than can be had in the natural order of arrangement.\n\nWe now proceed to the slighter connections, which shall be discussed in\none general article. Words connected by conjunctions and prepositions\nfreely admit a pause betwixt them, which will be clear from the\nfollowing instances.\n\n    Assume what sexes || and what shape they please\n\n    The light militia || of the lower sky\n\nConnecting particles were invented to unite in a period two substantives\nsignifying things occasionally united in the thought, but which have no\nnatural union. And betwixt two things not only separable in idea, but\nreally distinct, the mind, for the sake of melody, chearfully admits by\na pause a momentary disjunction of their occasional union.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOne capital branch of the subject is still upon hand, to which I am\ndirected by what is just now said. It concerns those parts of speech\nwhich singly represent no idea, and which become not significant till\nthey be joined to other words. I mean conjunctions, prepositions,\narticles, and such like accessories, passing under the name of\n_particles_. Upon these the question occurs, Whether they can be\nseparated by a pause from the words that make them significant? Whether,\nfor example, in the following lines, the separation of the accessory\npreposition from the principal substantive, be according to rule?\n\n    The goddess with || a discontented air\n\n    And heighten\u2019d by || the diamond\u2019s circling rays\n\n    When victims at || yon altar\u2019s foot we lay\n\n    So take it in || the very words of Creech\n\n    An ensign of || the delegates of Jove\n\n    Two ages o\u2019er || his native realm he reign\u2019d\n\n    While angels, with || their silver wings o\u2019ershade\n\nOr separating the conjunction from the word it connects with what goes\nbefore:\n\n    Talthybius and || Eurybates the good\n\nIt will be obvious at the first glance, that the foregoing reasoning\nupon objects naturally connected, are not applicable to words which of\nthemselves are mere ciphers. We must therefore have recourse to some\nother principle for solving the present question. These particles out of\ntheir place are totally insignificant. To give them a meaning, they must\nbe joined to certain words. The necessity of this junction, together\nwith custom, forms an artificial connection, which has a strong\ninfluence upon the mind. It cannot bear even a momentary separation,\nwhich destroys the sense, and is at the same time contradictory to\npractice. Another circumstance tends still more to make this separation\ndisagreeable. The long syllable immediately preceding the full pause,\nmust be accented; for this is required by the melody, as will afterward\nappear. But it is ridiculous to accent or put an emphasis upon a low\nword that raises no idea, and is confined to the humble province of\nconnecting words that raise ideas. And for that reason, a line must be\ndisagreeable where a particle immediately precedes the full pause; for\nsuch construction of a line makes the melody discord with the sense.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHitherto we have discoursed upon that pause only which divides the line.\nAre the same rules applicable to the concluding pause? This must be\nanswered by making a distinction. In the first line of a couplet, the\nconcluding pause differs little, if at all, from the pause which divides\nthe line; and for that reason, the rules are applicable to both equally.\nThe concluding pause of the couplet, is in a different condition: it\nresembles greatly the concluding pause in a Hexameter line. Both of them\nindeed are so remarkable, that they never can be graceful, unless when\nthey accompany a pause in the sense. Hence it follows, that a couplet\nought always to be finished with some close in the sense; if not a\npoint, at least a comma. The truth is, that this rule is seldom\ntransgressed. In Pope\u2019s works, upon a cursory search indeed, I found but\nthe following deviations from the rule.\n\n    Nothing is foreign: parts relate to whole;\n    One all extending, all-preserving soul\n    Connects each being----\n\nAnother:\n\n    To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow\u2019rs,\n    To steal from rainbows ere they drop in show\u2019rs\n    A brighter wash----\n\nBut now, supposing the connection to be so slender as to admit a pause,\nit follows not that a pause may always be put. There is one rule to\nwhich every other ought to bend, That the sense must never be wounded or\nobscured by the music; and upon that account, I condemn the following\nlines:\n\n    Ulysses, first || in public cares, she found.\n\nAnd,\n\n    Who rising, high || th\u2019 imperial sceptre rais\u2019d.\n\nWith respect to inversion, it appears both from reason and experiments,\nthat many words which cannot bear a separation in their natural order,\nadmit a pause when inverted. And it may be added, that when two words,\nor two members of a sentence, in their natural order, can be separated\nby a pause, such separation can never be amiss in an inverted order. An\ninverted period, which runs cross to the natural train of ideas,\nrequires to be marked in some measure even by pauses in the sense, that\nthe parts may be distinctly known. Take the following examples.\n\n    As with cold lips || I kiss\u2019d the sacred veil.\n\n    With other beauties || charm my partial eyes.\n\n    Full in my view || set all the bright abode.\n\n    With words like these || the troops Ulysses rul\u2019d.\n\n    Back to th\u2019 assembly roll || the thronging train.\n\n    Not for their grief || the Grecian host I blame.\n\nThe same where the separation is made at the close of the first line of\nthe couplet:\n\n    For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease\n    Assume what sexes and what shapes they please.\n\nThe pause is tolerable even at the close of the couplet, for the reason\njust now suggested, that inverted members require some slight pause in\nthe sense:\n\n    \u2019Twas where the plane-tree spread its shades around:\n    The altars heav\u2019d; and from the crumbling ground\n    A mighty dragon shot.\n\nThus a train of reasoning hath insensibly led us to conclusions with\nregard to the musical pause, very different from those in the first\nsection, concerning the separating by an interjected circumstance words\nintimately connected. One would conjecture, that where-ever words are\nseparable by interjecting a circumstance, they should be equally\nseparable by interjecting a pause. But, upon a more narrow inspection,\nthe appearance of analogy vanisheth. To make this evident, I need only\npremise, that a pause in the sense distinguishes the different members\nof a period from each other; that two words of the same member may be\nseparated by a circumstance, all the three making still but one member;\nand therefore that a pause in the sense has no connection with the\nseparation of words by interjected circumstances. This sets the matter\nin a clear light. It is observed above, that the musical pause is\nintimately connected with the pause in the sense; so intimately indeed,\nthat regularly they ought to coincide. As this would be too great a\nrestraint, a licence is indulged, to place pauses for the sake of the\nmusic where they are not necessary for the sense. But this licence must\nbe kept within bounds. And a musical pause ought never to be placed\nwhere a pause is excluded by the sense; as, for example, betwixt the\nadjective and following substantive which make parts of the same idea,\nand still less betwixt a particle and the word which makes it\nsignificant.\n\nAbstracting at present from the peculiarity of modulation arising from\nthe different pauses, it cannot fail to be observed in general, that\nthey introduce into our verse no slight degree of variety. Nothing more\nfatigues the ear, than a number of uniform lines having all the same\npause, which is extremely remarkable in the French versification. This\nimperfection will be discerned by a fine ear even in the shortest\nsuccession, and becomes intolerable in a long poem. Pope excels all the\nworld in the variety of his modulation, which indeed is not less perfect\nof its kind than that of Virgil.\n\nFrom what is now said, there ought to be one exception. Uniformity in\nthe members of a thought, demands equal uniformity in the members of the\nperiod which expresses that thought. When therefore resembling objects\nor things are expressed in a plurality of verse-lines, these lines in\ntheir structure ought to be as uniform as possible, and the pauses in\nparticular ought all of them to have the same place. Take the following\nexamples.\n\n    By foreign hands || thy dying eyes were clos\u2019d,\n    By foreign hands || thy decent limbs compos\u2019d,\n    By foreign hands || thy humble grave adorn\u2019d.\n\nAgain,\n\n    Bright as the sun, || her eyes the gazers strike,\n    And, like the sun, || they shine on all alike.\n\nSpeaking of Nature, or the God of Nature:\n\n    Warms in the sun || refreshes in the breeze,\n    Glows in the stars || and blossoms in the trees,\n    Lives through all life || extends through all extent,\n    Spreads undivided || operates unspent.\n\nPauses are like to dwell longer upon hand than I imagined; for the\nsubject is not yet exhausted. It is laid down above, that English heroic\nverse, considering melody only, admits no more than four capital pauses;\nand that the capital pause of every line is determined by the sense to\nbe after the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, or seventh syllable. And that\nthis doctrine holds true so far as melody alone is concerned, every good\near will bear testimony. At the same time, examples are not unfrequent,\nin Milton especially, of the capital pause being after the first, the\nsecond, or the third syllable. And that this licence may be taken, even\ngracefully, when it adds vigour to the expression, I readily admit. So\nfar the sound may be justly sacrificed to the sense or expression. That\nthis licence may be successfully taken, will be clear from the\nfollowing example. Pope, in his translation of Homer, describes a rock\nbroke off from a mountain, and hurling to the plain, in the following\nwords.\n\n    From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds;\n    At every shock the crackling wood resounds;\n    Still gath\u2019ring force, it smokes; and urg\u2019d amain,\n    Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain:\n    There stops || So Hector. Their whole force he prov\u2019d,\n    Resistless when he rag\u2019d; and when he stopt, unmov\u2019d.\n\nIn the penult line the proper place of the musical pause is at the end\nof the fifth syllable; but it enlivens the expression by its coincidence\nwith that of the sense at the end of the second syllable. The stopping\nshort before the usual pause in the melody, aids the impression that is\nmade by the description of the stone\u2019s stopping short. And what is lost\nto the melody by this artifice, is more than compensated by the force\nthat is added to the description. Milton makes a happy use of this\nlicence; witness the following examples from his _Paradise Lost_.\n\n                ---- Thus with the year\n    Seasons return, but not to me returns\n    Day || or the sweet approach of even or morn.\n\n    Celestial voices to the midnight-air\n    Sole || or responsive each to others note.\n\n    And over them triumphant Death his dart\n    Shook || but delay\u2019d to strike.\n\n               ---- And wild uproar\n    Stood rul\u2019d || stood vast infinitude confin\u2019d.\n\n          ---- And hard\u2019ning in his strength\n    Glories || for never since created man\n    Met such embodied force.\n\n    From his slack hand the garland wreath\u2019d for Eve\n    Down drop\u2019d || and all the faded roses shed.\n\n    Of unessential night, receives him next,\n    Wide gaping || and with utter loss of being\n    Threatens him, _&c._\n\n             ----For now the thought\n    Both of lost happiness and lasting pain\n    Torments him || round he throws his baleful eyes, _&c._\n\nIf we consider the foregoing passages with respect to melody singly, the\npauses are undoubtedly out of their proper place. But being united with\nthose of the sense, they inforce the expression and enliven it greatly.\nAnd the beauty of expression is communicated to the sound, which, by a\nnatural deception, makes even the melody appear more perfect than if the\nmusical pauses were regular.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTo explain the rules of accenting, two general observations must be\npremised. The first is, That accents have a double effect. They\ncontribute to the melody, by giving it air and spirit: they contribute\nnot less to the sense, by distinguishing important words from others.\nThese two effects ought never to be separated. If a musical accent be\nput where the sense rejects it, we feel a discordance betwixt the\nthought and the melody. An accent, for example, placed on a word that\nmakes no figure, has the effect to burlesk it, by giving it an unnatural\nelevation. The injury thus done to the sense, is communicated to the\nmelody by the intimacy of connection, and both seem to be wounded. This\nrule is applicable in a peculiar manner to particles. It is indeed\nridiculous to put an emphasis on a word which of itself has no meaning,\nand like cement serves only to unite words significant. The other\ngeneral observation is, That a word of whatever number of syllables, is\nnot accented upon more than one of them. Nor is this an arbitrary\npractice. The object represented by the word, is set in its best light\nby a single accent: reiterated accents on different syllables in\nsuccession, make not the emphasis stronger; but have an air, as if the\nsound only of the accented syllables were regarded, and not the sense of\nthe word.\n\nKeeping in view the foregoing observations, the doctrine of accenting\nEnglish heroic verse, is extremely simple. In the first place, accenting\nis confined to the long syllables; for the melody admits not an accent\nupon any short syllable. In the next place, as the melody is inriched in\nproportion to the number of accents, every word that has a long syllable\nought to be accented, unless where the accent is rejected by the sense:\na word, as observed, that makes no figure by its signification, cannot\nbear an accent. According to this rule, a line may admit five accents; a\ncase by no means rare.\n\nBut supposing every long syllable to be accented, there is constantly,\nin every line, one accent which makes a greater figure than the rest.\nThis capital accent is that which precedes the capital pause. Hence it\nis distinguishable into two kinds; one that is immediately succeeded by\nthe pause, and one that is divided from the pause by a short syllable.\nThe former belongs to lines of the first and third order: the latter to\nthose of the second and fourth. Examples of the first kind.\n\n    Smooth flow the w\u00e2ves || the zephyrs gently play,\n    Belinda sm\u00eel\u2019d || and all the world was gay.\n\n    He rais\u2019d his azure w\u00e2nd || and thus begun\n\nExamples of the second.\n\n    There lay three g\u00e2rters || half a pair of gloves;\n    And all the tr\u00f4phies || of his former loves.\n\n    Our humble pr\u00f4vince || is to tend the fair,\n    Not a less pl\u00eaasing || though less glorious care.\n\n    And hew triumphal \u00e2rches || to the ground\n\nThese accents make different impressions on the mind, which will be the\nsubject of a following speculation. In the mean time, it may be safely\npronounced a capital defect in the composition of verse, to put a low\nword, incapable of an accent, in the place where this accent should be.\nThis bars the accent altogether; and I know no other fault more\nsubversive of the melody, if it be not that of barring a pause\naltogether. I may add affirmatively, that it is a capital beauty in the\ncomposition of verse, to have the most important word of the sentence,\nso placed as that this capital accent may be laid upon it. No single\ncircumstance contributes more to the energy of verse, than to have this\naccent on a word, that, by the importance of its meaning, is intitled to\na peculiar emphasis. To show the bad effect of excluding the capital\naccent, I refer the reader to some instances given above, p. ooo, where\nparticles are separated by a pause from the capital words that make them\nsignificant, and which particles ought, for the sake of the melody, to\nbe accented, were they capable of an accent. Add to these the following\ninstances from the Essay on Criticism.\n\n    Oft, leaving what || is natural and fit,\n              _line 448._\n\n    Not yet purg\u2019d off, || of spleen and sour disdain\n              _l. 528._\n\n    No pardon vile || obscenity should find\n              _l. 531._\n\n    When love was all || an easy monarch\u2019s care\n              _l. 537._\n\n    For \u2019tis but half || a judge\u2019s talk, to know\n              _l. 562._\n\n    \u2019Tis not enough, || taste, judgement, learning, join\n              _l. 563._\n\n    That only makes || superior sense belov\u2019d\n              _l. 578._\n\n    Whose right it is, || uncensur\u2019d, to be dull\n              _l. 590._\n\n    \u2019Tis best sometimes || your censure to restrain\n              _l. 597._\n\nWhen this fault is at the end of the line that closes a couplet, it\nleaves not the least trace of melody:\n\n    But of this frame the bearings, and the ties,\n    The strong connections, nice dependencies\n\nIn a line expressive of what is humble or dejected, it improves the\nresemblance betwixt the sound and sense, to exclude the capital accent.\nThis, to my taste, is a beauty in the following lines.\n\n    In th\u00ease deep s\u00f4litudes || and a\u0175ful cells\n\n    The p\u00f4or inh\u00e2bitant || beh\u00f4lds in vain\n\nTo conclude this article, the accents are not, like the syllables,\nconfined to a certain number. Some lines have no fewer than five, and\nthere are lines that admit not above one. This variety, as we have seen,\ndepends entirely on the different powers of the component words.\nParticles, even where they are long by position, cannot be accented; and\npolysyllables, whatever space they occupy, admit but one accent.\nPolysyllables have another defect, that they generally exclude the full\npause. I have shown above, that few polysyllables can find place in the\nconstruction of English verse. Here are reasons for excluding them,\ncould they find place.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI am now prepared to fulfil a promise concerning the four sorts of lines\nthat enter into English heroic verse. That these have, each of them, a\npeculiar melody distinguishable by a good ear, I ventured to suggest,\nand promised to account for: and though this subject is extremely\ndelicate, I am not without hopes of making good my engagement. First,\nhowever, like a wary general, I take all advantages the ground will\npermit. I do not aver, that this peculiarity of modulation is in every\ninstance perceptible. Far from it. The impression made by a period,\nwhether it be verse or prose, is occasioned chiefly by the thought, and\nin an inferior degree by the words; and these articles are so intimately\nunited with the melody, that they have each of them a strong influence\nupon the others. With respect to the melody in particular, instances are\nwithout number, of melody, in itself poor and weak, passing for rich and\nspirited where it is supported by the thought and expression. I am\ntherefore intitled to insist, that this experiment be tried upon lines\nof equal rank. And to avoid the perplexity of various cases, I must also\ninsist, that the lines chosen for a trial be regularly accented before\nthe pause: for upon a matter abundantly refined in itself, I would not\nwillingly be imbarrassed with faulty and irregular lines. These\npreliminaries being adjusted, I begin with some general observations,\nthat will save repeating the same thing over and over upon each\nparticular case. And, first, an accent succeeded by a pause, makes\nsensibly a deeper impression than where the voice goes on without a\nstop: to make an impression requires time; and there is no time where\nthere is no pause. The fact is so certain, that in running over a few\nlines, there is scarce an ear so dull as not readily to distinguish from\nothers, that particular accent which immediately precedes the full\npause. In the next place, the elevation of an accenting tone, produceth\nin the mind a similar elevation, which is continued during the pause.\nEvery circumstance is different where the pause is separated from the\naccent by a short syllable. The impression made by the accent is more\nslight when there is no stop; and the elevation of the accent is gone in\na moment by the falling of the voice in pronouncing the short syllable\nthat follows. The pause also is sensibly affected by the position of the\naccent. In lines of the first and third order, the close conjunction of\nthe accent and pause, occasions a sudden stop without preparation, which\nrouses the mind, and bestows on the melody a spirited air. When, on the\nother hand, the pause is separated from the accent by a short syllable,\nwhich always happens in lines of the second and fourth order, the pause\nis soft and gentle. This short unaccented syllable succeeding one that\nis accented, must of course be pronounced with a falling voice, which\nnaturally prepares for a pause. The mind falls gently from the accented\nsyllable, and slides into rest as it were insensibly. Further, the lines\nthemselves, derive different powers from the position of the pause. A\npause after the fourth syllable divides the line into two unequal\nportions, of which the largest comes last. This circumstance resolving\nthe line into an ascending series, makes an impression in pronouncing\nlike that of mounting upward. And to this impression contributes the\nredoubled effort in pronouncing the largest portion, which is last in\norder. The mind has a different feeling when the pause succeeds the\nfifth syllable. The line being divided into two equal parts by this\npause, these parts, pronounced with equal effort, are agreeable by their\nuniformity. A line divided by a pause after the sixth syllable, makes an\nimpression opposite to that first mentioned. Being divided into two\nunequal portions, of which the shortest is last in order, it appears\nlike a slow descending series; and the second portion being pronounced\nwith less effort than the first, the diminished effort prepares the mind\nfor rest. And this preparation for rest is still more sensibly felt\nwhere the pause is after the seventh syllable, as in lines of the fourth\norder.\n\nNo person can be at a loss in applying these observations. A line of the\nfirst order is of all the most spirited and lively. To produce this\neffect, several of the circumstances above mentioned concur. The accent,\nbeing followed instantly by a pause, makes an illustrious figure: the\nelevated tone of the accent elevates the mind: the mind is supported in\nits elevation by the sudden unprepared pause which rouses and animates:\nand the line itself, representing by its unequal division an ascending\nseries, carries the mind still higher, making an impression similar to\nthat of mounting upward. The second order has a modulation sensibly\nsweet, soft, and flowing. The accent is not so sprightly as in the\nformer, because a short syllable intervenes betwixt it and the pause:\nits elevation, by the same means, vanisheth instantaneously: the mind,\nby a falling voice, is gently prepared for a stop: and the pleasure of\nuniformity from the division of the line into two equal parts, is calm\nand sweet. The third order has a modulation not so easily expressed in\nwords. It in part resembles the first order, by the liveliness of an\naccent succeeded instantly by a full pause. But then the elevation\noccasioned by this circumstance, is balanced in some degree by the\nremitted effort in pronouncing the second portion, which remitted effort\nhas a tendency to rest. Another circumstance distinguisheth it\nremarkably. Its capital accent comes late, being placed on the sixth\nsyllable; and this circumstance bestows on it an air of gravity and\nsolemnity. The last order resembles the second in the mildness of its\naccent and softness of its pause. It is still more solemn than the\nthird, by the lateness of its capital accent. It also possesses in a\nhigher degree than the third, the tendency to rest; and by that\ncircumstance is of all the best qualified for closing a period in the\ncompletest manner.\n\nBut these are not all the distinguishing characters of the different\norders. Each order also, by means of its final accent and pause, makes a\npeculiar impression; so peculiar as to produce a melody clearly\ndistinguishable from that of the others. This peculiarity is occasioned\nby the division which the capital pause makes in a line. By an unequal\ndivision in the first order, the mind has an impression of ascending;\nand is left at the close in the highest elevation, which is display\u2019d on\nthe concluding syllable. By this means, a strong emphasis is naturally\nlaid upon the concluding syllable, whether by raising the voice to a\nsharper tone, or by expressing the word in a fuller tone. This order\naccordingly is of all the least proper for concluding a period, where a\ncadence is proper, and not an accent. In the second order, the final\naccent makes not so capital a figure. There is nothing singular in its\nbeing marked by a pause, for this is common to all the orders; and this\norder, being destitute of the impression of ascent, cannot rival the\nfirst order in the elevation of its accent, nor consequently in the\ndignity of its pause; for these always have a mutual influence. This\norder, however, with respect to its close, maintains a superiority over\nthe third and fourth orders. In these the close is more humble, being\nbrought down by the impression of descent, and by the remitted effort in\npronouncing; considerably in the third order, and still more\nconsiderably in the last. According to this description, the concluding\naccents and pauses of the four orders being reduced to a scale, will\nform a descending series probably in an arithmetical progression.\n\nAfter what is said, will it be thought refining too much to suggest,\nthat the different orders are qualified for different purposes, and that\na poet of genius will be naturally led to make a choice accordingly? I\ncannot think this altogether chimerical. It appears to me, that the\nfirst order is proper for a sentiment that is bold, lively, or\nimpetuous; that the third order is proper for subjects grave, solemn, or\nlofty; the second for what is tender, delicate, or melancholy, and in\ngeneral for all the sympathetic emotions; and the last for subjects of\nthe same kind, when tempered with any degree of solemnity. I do not\ncontend, that any one order is fitted for no other talk, than that\nassigned it. At that rate, no sort of modulation would be left for\naccompanying ordinary thoughts, that have nothing peculiar in them. I\nonly venture to suggest, and I do it with diffidence, that one order is\npeculiarly adapted to certain subjects, and better qualified than the\nothers for expressing such subjects. The best way to judge is by\nexperiment; and to avoid the imputation of a partial search, I shall\nconfine my instances to a single poem, beginning with the first order.\n\n    On her white breast, a sparkling cross she wore,\n    Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore.\n    Her lively looks, a sprightly mind disclose,\n    Quick as her eyes, and as unfix\u2019d as those:\n    Favours to none, to all she smiles extends;\n    Oft she rejects, but never once offends.\n    Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike,\n    And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.\n    Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride,\n    Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide:\n    If to her share some female errors fall,\n    Look on her face, and you\u2019ll forget \u2019em all.\n         _Rape of the Lock._\n\nIn accounting for the remarkable liveliness of this passage, it will be\nacknowledged by every one who has an ear, that the modulation must come\nin for a share. The lines, all of them, are of the first order; a very\nunusual circumstance in the author of this poem, so eminent for variety\nin his versification. Who can doubt, that, in this passage, he has been\nled by delicacy of taste to employ the first order preferably to the\nothers?\n\nSecond order.\n\n    Our humbler province is to tend the fair,\n    Not a less pleasing, though less glorious care;\n    To save the powder from too rude a gale,\n    Nor let th\u2019 imprison\u2019d essences exhale;\n    To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow\u2019rs;\n    To steal from rainbows ere they drop their show\u2019rs, _&c._\n\nAgain,\n\n    Oh, thoughtless mortals! ever blind to fate,\n    Too soon dejected, and too soon elate.\n    Sudden, these honours shall be snatch\u2019d away,\n    And curs\u2019d for ever this victorious day.\n\nThird order.\n\n    To fifty chosen sylphs, of special note,\n    We trust th\u2019important charge, the petticoat.\n\nAgain,\n\n    Oh say what stranger cause, yet unexplor\u2019d,\n    Could make a gentle belle reject a lord?\n\nA plurality of lines of the fourth order, would not have a good effect\nin succession; because, by a remarkable tendency to rest, its proper\noffice is to close a period. The reader, therefore, must be satisfied\nwith instances where this order is mixed with others.\n\n    Not louder shrieks to pitying Heav\u2019n are cast,\n    When husbands, or when lapdogs, breathe their last.\n\nAgain,\n\n    Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,\n    And hew triumphal arches to the ground.\n\nAgain,\n\n    She sees, and trembles at th\u2019 approaching ill,\n    Just in the jaws of ruin, and codille.\n\nAgain,\n\n    With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face,\n    He first the snuff-box open\u2019d, then the case.\n\nAnd this suggests another experiment, which is, to set the different\norders more directly in opposition, by giving examples where they are\nmixed in the same passage.\n\nFirst and second orders.\n\n    Sol through white curtains shot a tim\u2019rous ray,\n    And ope\u2019d those eyes that must eclipse the day.\n\nAgain,\n\n    Not youthful kings in battle seiz\u2019d alive,\n    Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,\n    Not ardent lovers robb\u2019d of all their bliss,\n    Not ancient ladies when refus\u2019d a kiss,\n    Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,\n    Not Cynthia when her manteau\u2019s pinn\u2019d awry,\n    E\u2019er felt such rage, resentment, and despair,\n    As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravish\u2019d hair.\n\nFirst and third.\n\n    Think what an equipage thou hast in air,\n    And view with scorn two pages and a chair.\n\nAgain,\n\n    What guards the purity of melting maids,\n    In courtly balls, and midnight-masquerades,\n    Safe from the treach\u2019rous friend, the daring spark,\n    The glance by day, the whisper in the dark?\n\nAgain,\n\n    With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre,\n    And breathes three am\u2019rous sighs to raise the fire;\n    Then prostrate falls, and begs, with ardent eyes,\n    Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize.\n\nAgain,\n\n    Jove\u2019s thunder roars, heav\u2019n trembles all around,\n    Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound,\n    Earth shakes her nodding tow\u2019rs, the ground gives way,\n    And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!\n\nSecond and third.\n\n    Sunk in Thalestris\u2019 arms, the nymph he found,\n    Her eyes dejected, and her hair unbound.\n\nAgain,\n\n    On her heav\u2019d bosom hung her drooping head,\n    Which with a sigh she rais\u2019d; and thus she said.\n\nMusing on the foregoing subject, I begin to doubt whether I have not\nbeen all this while in a reverie. Here unexpectedly a sort of\nfairy-scene opens, where every object is new and singular. Is there any\ntruth in the appearance, or is it merely a work of imagination? The\nscene seems to be a reality; and if it can bear examination, it must\nexalt greatly the melody of English heroic verse. If uniformity prevail,\nin the arrangement, in the equality of the lines, and in the resemblance\nof the final sounds; variety is still more conspicuous in the pauses and\naccents, which are diversified in a surprising manner. The beauty that\nresults from combined objects, is justly observed to consist in a due\nmixture of uniformity and variety[102]. Of this beauty many instances\nhave already occurred, but none more illustrious than English\nversification. However rude it may be by the simplicity of arrangement,\nit is highly melodious by its pauses and accents, so as already to rival\nthe most perfect species known in Greece or Rome. And it is no\ndisagreeable prospect to find it susceptible of still greater\nrefinement.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe proceed to blank verse, which hath so many circumstances in common\nwith rhyme, that what is necessary to be said upon it may be brought\nwithin a narrow compass. With respect to form, it differs not from rhyme\nfarther than in rejecting the jingle of similar sounds. But let us not\nthink this difference a trifle, or that we gain nothing by it but the\npurifying our verse from a pleasure so childish. In truth, our verse is\nextremely cramped by rhyme; and the great advantage of blank verse is,\nthat, being free from the fetters of rhyme, it is at liberty to attend\nthe imagination in its boldest flights. Rhyme necessarily divides verse\ninto couplets: each couplet makes a complete musical period; the parts\nof which are divided by pauses, and the whole summed up by a full close\nat the end: the modulation begins anew with the next couplet: and in\nthis manner a composition in rhyme proceeds couplet after couplet. I\nhave more than once had occasion to observe the influence that sound and\nsense have upon each other by their intimate union. If a couplet be a\ncomplete period with regard to the melody, it ought regularly to be so\nalso with regard to the sense. This, it is true, proves too great a\ncramp upon composition; and licences are indulged, as explained above.\nThese however must be used with discretion, so as to preserve some\ndegree of uniformity betwixt the sense and the music. There ought never\nto be a full close in the sense but at the end of a couplet; and there\nought always to be some pause in the sense at the end of every couplet.\nThe same period as to sense may be extended through several couplets;\nbut in this case each couplet ought to contain a distinct member,\ndistinguished by a pause in the sense as well as in the sound; and the\nwhole ought to be closed with a complete cadence. Rules such as these,\nmust confine rhyme within very narrow bounds. A thought of any extent,\ncannot be reduced within its compass. The sense must be curtailed and\nbroken into pieces, to make it square with the curtness of melody: and\nit is obvious, that short periods afford no latitude for inversion. I\nhave examined this point with the greater accuracy, in order to give a\njust notion of blank verse; and to show that a slight difference in form\nmay produce a very great difference in substance. Blank verse has the\nsame pauses and accents with rhyme; and a pause at the end of every\nline, like what concludes the first line of a couplet. In a word, the\nrules of melody in blank verse, are the same that obtain with respect\nto the first line of a couplet. But luckily, being disengaged from\nrhyme, or, in other words, from couplets, there is access to make every\nline run into another, precisely as the first line of a couplet may run\ninto the second. There must be a musical pause at the end of every line;\nbut it is not necessary that it be accompanied with a pause in the\nsense. The sense may be carried on through different lines; till a\nperiod of the utmost extent be completed, by a full close both in the\nsense and the sound. There is no restraint, other than that this full\nclose be at the end of a line. This restraint is necessary in order to\npreserve a coincidence betwixt sense and sound; which ought to be aimed\nat in general, and is indispensable in the case of a full close, because\nit has a striking effect. Hence the aptitude of blank verse for\ninversion; and consequently the lustre of its pauses and accents; for\nwhich, as observed above, there is greater scope in inversion, than when\nwords run in their natural order.\n\nIn the second section of this chapter it is shown, that nothing\ncontributes more than inversion to the force and elevation of language.\nThe couplets of rhyme confine inversion within narrow limits. Nor would\nthe elevation of inversion, were there access for it in rhyme, be\nextremely concordant with the humbler tone of that sort of verse. It is\nuniversally agreed, that the loftiness of Milton\u2019s style supports\nadmirably the sublimity of his subject; and it is not less certain, that\nthe loftiness of his style arises chiefly from inversion. Shakespear\ndeals little in inversion. But his blank verse, being a sort of measured\nprose, is perfectly well adapted to the stage. Laboured inversion is\nthere extremely improper, because in dialogue it never can appear\nnatural.\n\nHitherto I have considered the advantage of laying aside rhyme, with\nrespect to that superior power of expression which verse acquires\nthereby. But this is not the only advantage of blank verse. It has\nanother not less signal of its kind; and that is, of a more extensive\nand more complete melody. Its music is not, like that of rhyme,\nconfined to a single couplet; but takes in a great compass, so as in\nsome measure to rival music properly so called. The intervals betwixt\nits cadences may be long or short at pleasure; and, by this means, its\nmodulation, with respect both to richness and variety, is superior far\nto that of rhyme; and superior even to that of the Greek and Latin\nHexameter. Of this observation no person can doubt who is acquainted\nwith the _Paradise Lost_. In that work there are indeed many careless\nlines; but at every turn it shines out in the richest melody as well as\nin the sublimest sentiments. Take the following specimen.\n\n    Now Morn her rosy steps in th\u2019 eastern clime\n    Advancing, sow\u2019d the earth with orient pearl,\n    When Adam wak\u2019d, so custom\u2019d, for his sleep\n    Was a\u00ebry light from pure digestion bred,\n    And temp\u2019rate vapours bland, which th\u2019 only sound\n    Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora\u2019s fan,\n    Lightly dispers\u2019d, and the shrill matin song\n    Of birds on every bough; so much the more\n    His wonder was to find unwaken\u2019d Eve\n    With tresses discompos\u2019d, and glowing cheek,\n    As through unquiet rest: he on his side\n    Leaning half-rais\u2019d, with looks of cordial love\n    Hung over her enamour\u2019d, and beheld\n    Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep,\n    Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice\n    Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,\n    Her hand soft touching, whisper\u2019d thus. Awake\n    My fairest, my espous\u2019d, my latest found,\n    Heav\u2019n\u2019s last best gift, my ever new delight,\n    Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh field\n    Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring\n    Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove,\n    What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed,\n    How Nature paints her colours, how the bee\n    Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet.\n         _Book 1. l. 1_.\n\nComparing the Latin Hexameter and English heroic rhyme, the former has\nobviously the advantage in the following particulars. It is greatly\npreferable as to arrangement, by the latitude it admits in placing the\nlong and short syllables. Secondly, the length of an Hexameter line hath\na majestic air: ours, by its shortness, is indeed more brisk and lively,\nbut much less fitted for the sublime. And, thirdly, the long\nhigh-sounding words that Hexameter admits, add greatly to its majesty.\nTo compensate these advantages, English rhyme possesses a greater number\nand greater variety both of pauses and of accents. These two sorts of\nverse stand indeed pretty much in opposition: in the Hexameter, great\nvariety of arrangement, none in the pauses or accents: in the English\nrhyme, great variety in the pauses and accents, very little in the\narrangement.\n\nIn blank verse are united, in a good measure, the several properties of\nLatin Hexameter and English rhyme; and it possesses beside many signal\nproperties of its own. If is not confined, like a Hexameter, by a full\nclose at the end of every line; nor, like rhyme, by a full close at the\nend of every couplet. This form of construction, which admits the lines\nto run into each other, gives it a still greater majesty than arises\nfrom the length of a Hexameter line. By the same means, it admits\ninversion even beyond the Latin or Greek Hexameter, which suffer some\nconfinement by the regular closes at the end of every line. In its\nmusic it is illustrious above all. The melody of Hexameter verse, is\ncircumscribed to a line; and of English rhyme, to a couplet. The melody\nof blank verse is under no confinement, but enjoys the utmost privilege\nof which the melody of verse is susceptible, and that is to run hand in\nhand with the sense. In a word, blank verse is superior to the Hexameter\nin many articles; and inferior to it in none, save in the latitude of\narrangement, and in the use of long words.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the French heroic verse, there are found, on the contrary, all the\ndefects of the Latin Hexameter and English rhyme, without the beauties\nof either. Subjected to the bondage of rhyme, and to the full close at\nthe end of each couplet, it is further peculiarly disgustful by the\nuniformity of its pauses and accents. The line invariably is divided by\nthe pause into two equal parts, and the accent is invariably placed\nbefore the pause.\n\n    Jeune et vaillant her\u00f4s || dont la haute sagesse\n    Ne\u2019st point la fruit tard\u00eef || d\u2019une lente vieillesse.\n\nHere every circumstance contributes to a most tedious uniformity. A\nconstant return of the same pause and of the same accent, as well as an\nequal division of every line; by which the latter part always answers to\nthe former, and fatigues the ear without intermission or change. I\ncannot set this matter in a better light, than by presenting to the\nreader a French translation of the following passage of Milton.\n\n    Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,\n    Godlike erect, with native honour clad\n    In naked majesty seem\u2019d lords of all;\n    And worthy seem\u2019d, for in their looks divine\n    The image of their glorious Maker shon,\n    Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure,\n    Severe, but in true filial freedom plac\u2019d;\n    Whence true authority in men: though both\n    Not equal, as their sex not equal seem\u2019d;\n    For contemplation he and valour form\u2019d,\n    For softness she and sweet attractive grace,\n    He for God only, she for God in him.\n\nWere the pauses of the sense and sound in this passage, but a little\nbetter assorted, nothing in verse could be more melodious. In general,\nthe great defect of Milton\u2019s versification, in other respects admirable,\nis the want of coincidence betwixt the pauses of the sense and sound.\n\nThe translation is in the following words.\n\n    Ce lieu d\u00e9licieux, ce paradis charmant,\n    Re\u00e7oit deux objets son plus bel ornement;\n    Leur port majestueux, et leur d\u00e9marche altiere,\n    Semble leur meriter sur la nature entiere\n    Ce droit de commander que Dieu leur a donn\u00e9.\n    Sur leur auguste front de gloire couronn\u00e9,\n    Du souverain du ciel drille la resemblance:\n    Dans leur simples regards \u00e9clatte l\u2019innocence,\n    L\u2019adorable candeur, l\u2019aimable v\u00e9rit\u00e9,\n    La raison, la sagesse, et la s\u00e9v\u00e9rit\u00e9\n    Qu\u2019adoucit la prudence, et cet air de droiture\n    Du visage des rois respectable parure.\n    Ces deux objets divins n\u2019ont pas les m\u00eames traits,\n    Ils paroissent form\u00e9s, quoique tous deux parfaits;\n    L\u2019un pour la majest\u00e9, la force, et la noblesse;\n    L\u2019autre pour la douceur, la grace, et la tendresse:\n    Celui-ci pour Dieu seul, l\u2019autre pour l\u2019homme encor.\n\nHere the sense is fairly translated, the words are of equal power, and\nyet how inferior the melody!\n\nI take the liberty to add here a speculation, which, though collateral\nonly, arises naturally from the subject, and shall be discussed in a few\nwords. Many attempts have been made to introduce Hexameter verse into\nthe living languages, but without success. The English language, I am\ninclined to believe, is not susceptible of this melody; and my reasons\nare these. First, the polysyllables in Latin and Greek are finely\ndiversified by long and short syllables, a circumstance that qualifies\nthem for the melody of Hexameter verse. Ours are extremely ill qualified\nfor this service, because they superabound in short syllables. Secondly,\nthe bulk of our monosyllables are arbitrary with regard to length, which\nis an unlucky circumstance in Hexameter. Custom, as observed above, may\nrender familiar a long or short pronunciation of the same word: but the\nmind wavering betwixt the two sounds, cannot be so much arrested with\neither, as with a word that hath always the same sound; and for that\nreason, arbitrary sounds are ill fitted for a melody which is chiefly\nsupported by quantity. In Latin and Greek Hexameter, invariable sounds\ndirect and ascertain the melody: English Hexameter would be destitute of\nmelody, unless by artful pronunciation; because of necessity the bulk of\nits sounds must be arbitrary. The pronunciation is easy in a simple\nmovement of alternate short and long syllables; but would be perplexing\nand unpleasant in the diversified movement of Hexameter verse.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nRhyme makes so great a figure in modern poetry, as to deserve a solemn\ntrial. I have for that reason reserved it to be examined with some\ndeliberation; in order to discover, if possible, its peculiar beauties,\nand the degree of merit it is intitled to. The first view of this\nsubject leads naturally to the following reflection, \u201cThat rhyme having\nno relation to sentiment, nor any effect upon the ear other than a mere\njingle, ought to be banished all compositions of any dignity, as\naffording but a trifling and childish pleasure.\u201d It will also be\nobserved, \u201cThat a jingle of words hath in some measure a ludicrous\neffect; witness the celebrated poem of _Hudibras_, the double rhymes of\nwhich contribute no small share to its drollery; that this effect would\nbe equally remarkable in a serious work, were it not obscured by the\nnature of the subject; that having however a constant tendency to give a\nludicrous air to the composition, it requires more than ordinary fire to\nsupport the dignity of the sentiments against such an undermining\nantagonist[103].\u201d\n\nThese arguments are specious, and have undoubtedly some weight. Yet, on\nthe other hand, it ought to be considered, that rhyme, in later times,\nhas become universal among men as well as children; and that to give it\na currency, it must have some foundation in human nature. In fact, it\nhas been successfully employ\u2019d by poets of genius, in their serious and\ngrave compositions, as well as in those which are more light and airy.\nHere, in weighing authority against argument, the balance seems to hang\npretty even; and therefore, to come at any thing decisive, we must\npierce a little deeper.\n\nMusic has great power over the soul; and may be successfully employ\u2019d to\ninflame or sooth our passions, if not actually to raise them. A single\nsound, however sweet, is not music; but a single sound repeated after\nproper intervals, may have an effect upon the mind, by rousing the\nattention and keeping the hearer awake. A variety of similar sounds,\nsucceeding each other after regular intervals, must have a still\nstronger effect. This is applicable to rhyme, which consists in the\nconnection that two verse-lines have by closing with two words similar\nin sound. And considering deliberately the effect that this may have; we\nfind, that it rouses the attention, and produceth an emotion moderately\ngay without dignity or elevation. Like the murmurings of a brook gliding\nthrough pebbles, it calms the mind when perturbed, and gently raises it\nwhen sunk. These effects are scarce perceived when the whole poem is in\nrhyme; but are extremely remarkable by contrast, in the couplets which\nclose the several acts of our later tragedies. The tone of the mind is\nsensibly varied by them, from anguish, distress, or melancholy, to some\ndegree of ease and alacrity. For the truth of this observation, I appeal\nto the speech of Jane Shore in the fourth act, when her doom was\npronounced by Glo\u2019ster; to the speech of Lady Jane Gray at the end of\nthe first act; and to that of Calista, in the _Fair Penitent_, when she\nleaves the stage, about the middle of the third act. The speech of\nAlicia, at the close of the fourth act of _Jane Shore_, puts the matter\nbeyond doubt. In a scene of deep distress, the rhymes which finish the\nact, produce a certain gaiety and chearfulness, far from according with\nthe tone of the passion.\n\n    _Alicia_. For ever? Oh! For ever!\n    Oh! who can bear to be a wretch for ever!\n    My rival too! his last thoughts hung on her:\n    And, as he parted, left a blessing for her.\n    Shall she be bless\u2019d, and I be curs\u2019d, for ever!\n    No; since her fatal beauty was the cause\n    Of all my suff\u2019rings, let her share my pains;\n    Let her, like me, of ev\u2019ry joy forlorn,\n    Devote the hour when such a wretch was born:\n    Like me to deserts and to darkness run,\n    Abhor the day and curse the golden sun;\n    Cast ev\u2019ry good and ev\u2019ry hope behind;\n    Detest the works of nature, loathe mankind:\n    Like me with cries distracted fill the air,}\n    Tear her poor bosom, and her frantic hair,}\n    And prove the torments of the last despair.}\n\nHaving described, the best way I can, the impression that rhyme makes on\nthe mind; I proceed to examine whether rhyme be proper for any subject,\nand to what subjects in particular it is best suited. Great and elevated\nsubjects, which have a powerful influence, claim justly the precedence\nin this inquiry. In the chapter of grandeur and sublimity, it is\nestablished, that a grand or sublime object, inspires a warm\nenthusiastic emotion disdaining strict regularity and order.\nThis observation is applicable to the present point. The\nmoderately-enlivening music of rhyme, gives a tone to the mind very\ndifferent from that of grandeur and sublimity. Supposing then an\nelevated subject to be expressed in rhyme, what must be the effect? The\nintimate union of the music with the subject, produces an intimate union\nof their emotions; one inspired by the subject, which tends to elevate\nand expand the mind; and one inspired by the music, which, confining the\nmind within the narrow limits of regular cadency and similar sound,\ntends to prevent all elevation above its own pitch. Emotions so little\nconcordant, cannot in union have a happy effect.\n\nBut it is scarce necessary to reason upon a case, that never did, and\nprobably never will happen, _viz._ an important subject clothed in\nrhyme, and yet supported in its utmost elevation. A happy thought or\nwarm expression, may at times give a sudden bound upward; but it\nrequires a genius greater than has hitherto existed, to support a poem\nof any length in a tone much more elevated than that of the melody.\nTasso and Ariosto ought not to be made exceptions, and still less\nVoltaire. And after all, where the poet has the dead weight of rhyme\nconstantly to struggle with, how can we expect an uniform elevation in\na high pitch; when such elevation, with all the support it can receive\nfrom language, requires the utmost effort of the human genius?\n\nBut now, admitting rhyme to be an unfit dress for grand and lofty\nimages; it has one advantage however, which is, to raise a low subject\nto its own degree of elevation. Addison[104] observes, \u201cThat rhyme,\nwithout any other assistance, throws the language off from prose, and\nvery often makes an indifferent phrase pass unregarded; but where the\nverse is not built upon rhymes, there, pomp of sound and energy of\nexpression are indispensably necessary, to support the style and keep it\nfrom falling into the flatness of prose.\u201d This effect of rhyme is\nremarkable in the French verse, which, being simple and natural and in a\ngood measure unqualified for inversion, readily sinks down to prose\nwhere it is not artificially supported. Rhyme, by rousing the mind,\nraises it somewhat above the tone of ordinary language: rhyme therefore\nis indispensable in the French tragedy; and may be proper even for their\ncomedy. Voltaire[105] assigns this very reason for adhering to rhyme in\nthese compositions. He indeed candidly owns, that even with the support\nof rhyme, the tragedies of his country are little better than\nconversation-pieces. This shows, that the French language is weak, and\nan improper dress for any grand subject. Voltaire was sensible of this\nimperfection; and yet Voltaire attempted an epic poem in that language.\n\nThe chearing and enlivening power of rhyme, is still more remarkable in\npoems of short lines, where the rhymes return upon the ear in a quick\nsuccession. And for that reason, rhyme is perfectly well adapted to gay,\nlight, and airy subjects. Witness the following.\n\n    O the pleasing, pleasing anguish.\n    When we love, and when we languish!\n        Wishes rising,\n        Thoughts surprising,\n        Pleasure courting,\n        Charms transporting,\n        Fancy viewing,\n        Joys ensuing,\n    O the pleasing, pleasing anguish.\n         _Rosamond, act 1. sc. 2._\n\nFor this reason, such frequent rhymes are very improper for any severe\nor serious passion: the dissonance betwixt the subject and the\nmodulation, is very sensibly felt. Witness the following.\n\n    Ardito ti renda,\n      T\u2019accenda\n      Di sdegno\n      D\u2019un figlio\n      Il periglio\n      D\u2019un regno\n      L\u2019 amor\n    E\u2019 dolce ad un\u2019 alma\n      Che aspetta\n      Vendetta\n    Il perder la calma\n    Fra l\u2019ire del cor.\n         _Metastasio. Artaserse, act 3. sc 3._\n\nRhyme is not less unfit for deep distress, than for subjects elevated\nand lofty; and for that reason has been long disused in the English and\nItalian tragedy. In a work, where the subject is serious though not\nelevated, it has not a good effect; because the airiness of the\nmodulation agrees not with the gravity of the subject. The _Essay on\nMan_, which treats a subject great and important, would show much better\nin blank verse. Sportive love, mirth, gaiety, humour, and ridicule, are\nthe province of rhyme. The boundaries assigned it by nature, were\nextended in barbarous and illiterate ages, and in its usurpations it has\nlong been protected by custom. But taste in the fine arts, as well as in\nmorals, improves daily; and makes a progress, slowly indeed, but\nuniformly, towards perfection: and there is no reason to doubt, that\nrhyme in Britain will in time be forc\u2019d to abandon its unjust conquests,\nand to confine itself within its natural limits.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHaving thrown out what occurred upon rhyme, I close the section with a\ngeneral observation. The melody of articulate sound so powerfully\ninchants the mind, as to draw a vail over very gross faults and\nimperfections. Of this power a stronger example cannot be given, than\nthe episode of Arist\u00e6us, which closes the fourth book of the _Georgics_.\nTo renew a stock of bees when the former is lost, Virgil asserts, that\nthey will be produced in the intrails of a bullock, slain and managed in\na certain manner. This leads him to say, how this strange receipt was\ninvented; which is as follows. Arist\u00e6us having lost his bees by disease\nand famine, never dreams of employing the ordinary means for obtaining a\nnew stock; but, like a froward child, complains heavily of his\nmisfortune to his mother Cyrene, a water-nymph. She advises him to\nconsult Proteus, a sea-god, not how he was to obtain a new stock, but\nonly by what fatality he had lost his former stock; adding, that\nviolence was necessary, because Proteus would say nothing voluntarily.\nArist\u00e6us, satisfied with this advice, though it gave him no prospect of\nrepairing his loss, proceeds to execution. Proteus is catched sleeping,\nbound with cords, and compelled to speak. He declares, that Arist\u00e6us was\npunished with the loss of his bees, for attempting the chastity of\nEuridice, the wife of Orpheus; she having got her death by the sting of\na serpent in flying his embraces. Proteus, whose sullenness ought to\nhave been converted into wrath by the rough treatment he met with,\nbecomes on a sudden courteous and communicative. He gives the whole\nhistory of Orpheus\u2019s expedition to hell in order to recover his spouse;\na very entertaining story indeed, but without the least relation to the\naffair on hand. Arist\u00e6us returning to his mother, is advised to\ndeprecate by sacrifices the wrath of Orpheus, who was now dead. A\nbullock is sacrificed, and out of the intrails spring miraculously a\nswarm of bees. How should this have led any mortal to think, that,\nwithout a miracle, the same might be obtained naturally, as is supposed\nin the receipt?\n\n_A list of the different FEET, and of their NAMES._\n\n     1. PYRRHICHIUS, consists of two short syllables. Examples: _Deus_,\n     _given_, _cannot_, _hillock_, _running_.\n\n     2. SPONDEUS, consists of two long syllables. Ex. _omnes_,\n     _possess_, _forewarn_, _mankind_, _sometime_.\n\n     3. IAMBUS, composed of a short and a long. Ex. _pios_, _intent_,\n     _degree_, _appear_, _consent_, _repent_, _demand_, _report_,\n     _suspect_, _affront_, _event_.\n\n     4. TROCH\u00c6US, or CHOREUS, a long and a short. Ex. _fervat_,\n     _whereby_, _after_, _legal_, _measure_, _burden_, _holy_, _lofty_.\n\n     5. TRIBRACHYS, three short. Ex. _melius_, _property_.\n\n     6. MOLOSSUS, three long. Ex. _delectant_.\n\n     7. ANAP\u00c6STUS, two short and a long. Ex. _animos_, _condescend_,\n     _apprehend_, _overheard_, _acquiesce_, _immature_, _overcharge_,\n     _serenade_, _opportune_.\n\n     8. DACTYLUS, a long and two short. Ex. _carmina_, _evident_,\n     _excellence_, _estimate_, _wonderful_, _altitude_, _burdened_,\n     _minister_, _tenement_.\n\n     9. BACCHIUS, a short and two long. Ex. _dolores_.\n\n     10. HYPPOBACCHIUS, or ANTIBACCHIUS, two long and a short. Ex.\n     _pelluntur_.\n\n     11. CRETICUS, or AMPHIMACER, a short syllable betwixt two long. Ex.\n     _infito_, _afternoon_.\n\n     12. AMPHIBRACHYS, a long syllable betwixt two short. Ex. _honore_,\n     _consider_, _imprudent_, _procedure_, _attended_, _proposed_,\n     _respondent_, _concurrence_, _apprentice_, _respective_,\n     _revenue_.\n\n     13. PROCELEUSMATICUS, four short syllables. Ex. _hominibus_,\n     _necessary_.\n\n     14. DISPONDEUS, four long syllables. Ex. _infinitis_.\n\n     15. DIIAMBUS, composed of two Iambi. Ex. _severitas_.\n\n     16. DITROCH\u00c6US, of two Troch\u00e6i. Ex. _permanere_, _procurator_.\n\n     17. IONICUS, two short syllables and two long. Ex. _properabant_.\n\n     18. Another foot passes under the same name, composed of two long\n     syllables and two short. Ex. _calcaribus_, _possessory_.\n\n     19. CHORIAMBUS, two short syllables betwixt two long. Ex.\n     _Nobilitas_.\n\n     20. ANTISPASTUS, two long syllables betwixt two short. Ex.\n     _Alexander_.\n\n     21. P\u00c6ON 1st, one long syllable and three short. Ex. _temporibus_,\n     _ordinary_, _inventory_, _temperament_.\n\n     22. P\u00c6ON 2d, the second syllable long, and the other three short.\n     Ex. _potentia_, _rapidity_, _solemnity_, _minority_, _considered_,\n     _imprudently_, _extravagant_, _respectfully_, _accordingly_.\n\n     23. P\u00c6ON 3d, the third syllable long and the other three short. Ex.\n     _animatus_, _independent_, _condescendence_, _sacerdotal_,\n     _reimbursement_, _manufacture_.\n\n     24. P\u00c6ON 4th, the last syllable long and the other three short. Ex.\n     _Celeritas_.\n\n     25. EPITRITUS 1st, the first syllable short and the other three\n     long. Ex. _voluptates_.\n\n     26. EPITRITUS 2d, the second syllable short and the other three\n     long. Ex. _p\u00e6nitentes_.\n\n     27. EPITRITUS 3d, the third syllable short and the other three\n     long. Ex. _discordias_.\n\n     28. EPITRITUS 4th, the last syllable short and the other three\n     long. Ex. _fortunatus_.\n\n     29. A word of five syllables composed of a Pyrrhichius and\n     Dactylus. Ex. _ministerial_.\n\n     30. A word of five syllables composed of a Troch\u00e6us and Dactylus.\n     Ex. _singularity_.\n\n     31. A word of five syllables composed of a Dactylus and Troch\u00e6us.\n     Ex. _precipitation_, _examination_.\n\n     32. A word of five syllables, the second only long. Ex.\n     _necessitated_, _significancy_.\n\n     33. A word of six syllables composed of two Dactyles. Ex.\n     _impetuosity_.\n\n     34. A word of six syllables composed of a Tribrachys and Dactyle.\n     Ex. _pusillanimity_.\n\n_N. B._ Every word may be considered as a prose foot, because every word\nis distinguished by a pause; and every foot in verse may be considered\nas a verse word, composed of syllables pronounced at once without a\npause.\n\n\nEnd of the SECOND VOLUME.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Nec vero illa parva vis natur\u00e6 est rationisque, quod unum hoc\nanimal sentit quid sit ordo, quid sit quod deceat in factis dictisque,\nqui modus. Itaque eorum ipsorum, qu\u00e6 aspectu sentiuntur, nullum aliud\nanimal, pulchritudinem, venustatem, convenientiam partium, sentit.\nQuam similitudinem natura ratioque ab oculis ad animum transferens,\nmulto etiam magis pulchritudinem, constantiam, ordinem, in consiliis\nfactisque conservandum putat, cavetque ne quid indecor\u00e8 effeminat\u00e8ve\nfaciat; tum in omnibus et opinionibus et factis ne quid libidinos\u00e8 aut\nfaciat aut cogitet. Quibus ex rebus conflatur et efficitur id, quod\nqu\u00e6rimus, honestum. _Cicero de officiis, l._ 1.\n\n[2] From many things that pass current in the world without being\ngenerally condemned, one at first view would imagine, that the sense\nof congruity or propriety hath scarce any foundation in nature; and\nthat it is rather an artificial refinement of those who affect to\ndistinguish themselves by a certain delicacy of taste and behaviour.\nThe fulsome panegyrics bestowed upon the great and opulent, in epistles\ndedicatory and other such compositions, lead naturally to that thought.\nDid there prevail in the world, it will be said, or did nature suggest,\na taste of what is suitable, decent, or proper, would any good writer\ndeal in such compositions, or any man of sense receive them without\ndisgust? Can it be supposed, that Lewis XIV. of France was endued by\nnature with any sense of propriety, when, in a dramatic performance\npurposely composed for his entertainment, he suffered himself, publicly\nand in his presence, to be styled the greatest king ever the earth\nproduced? These it is true are strong facts; but luckily they do not\nprove the sense of propriety to be artificial. They only prove, that\nthe sense of propriety is at times overpowered by pride and vanity;\nwhich is no singular case, for this sometimes is the fate even of the\nsense of justice.\n\n[3] Contrary to this rule, the introduction to the third volume of\nthe _Characteristics_, is a continued chain of metaphors. These in\nsuch profusion are too florid for the subject; and have beside the bad\neffect of removing our attention from the principal subject, to fix it\nupon splendid trifles.\n\n[4] See act 1. sc. 2.\n\n[5] See chap. 7.\n\n[6] See chap. 3.\n\n[7] See the Introduction.\n\n[8] Part I. essay 2. chap. 4.\n\n[9] Poet. cap. 5.\n\n[10] L. 2. De oratore.\n\n[11] Ideoque anceps ejus rei ratio est, quod a derisu non procul abest\nrisus. _Lib._ 6. _cap._ 3. \u00a7 1.\n\n[12] See chap. 7.\n\n[13] See chap. 10.\n\n[14] Scarron.\n\n[15] Tassoni.\n\n[16] N\u00ba 102.\n\n[17] Tale of a Tub, sect. 7.\n\n[18] A true and faithful narrative of what passed in London during the\ngeneral consternation of all ranks and degrees of mankind.\n\n[19] \u00c6n. l. 1. _At Venus obscuro_, &c.\n\n[20] See chap. 10. compared with chap. 7.\n\n[21] B. 2. ch. 11. \u00a7 2.\n\n[22] See chap. 1.\n\n[23] De oratore, l. 2. cap. 63.\n\n[24]\n\n    If all the year were playing holidays,\n    To sport would be as tedious as to work:\n    But when they seldom come, they wish\u2019d-for come,\n    And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.\n         _First part, Henry_ IV. _act 1. sc. 3._\n\n\n\n[25] Violent love without affection is finely exemplified in the\nfollowing story. When Constantinople was taken by the Turks, Irene, a\nyoung Greek of an illustrious family, fell into the hands of Mahomet\nII. who was at that time in the prime of youth and glory. Irene\u2019s\ncharms conquered the savage heart of Mahomet. He abandoned himself to\nhis new mistress; and shut himself up with her, denying access even to\nhis ministers. His passion seemed to increase with time. In the most\nimportant expeditions, frequently would he abandon the army, and fly to\nhis Irene. War was at a stand, for victory was no longer the monarch\u2019s\nfavourite passion. The soldiers, accustomed to booty, began to murmur,\nand the infection spread even among the commanders. The Basha Mustapha,\nconsulting the fidelity he owed his master, was the first who durst\nacquaint him of the discourses held publicly to the prejudice of his\nglory.\n\nThe Sultan, after a gloomy silence, formed his resolution. He ordered\nMustapha to assemble the troops next morning; and then retired with\nprecipitation to Irene\u2019s apartment. Never before did that princess\nappear so charming: never before did the prince bestow so many tender\ncaresses. To give a new lustre to her beauty, he exhorted her women\nnext morning to bestow all their art and care on her dress. He took her\nby the hand, led her into the middle of the army, and pulling off her\nvail, demanded at the Bashas with a fierce look, whether they had ever\nbeheld so accomplished a beauty? After an awful pause, Mahomet with one\nhand laying hold of the young Greek by her beautiful locks, and with\nthe other pulling out his simitar, severed the head from the body at\none stroke. Then turning to his grandees, with eyes wild and furious,\n\u201cThis sword,\u201d says he, \u201cwhen it is my will, knows to cut the bands of\nlove.\u201d\n\n[26] See chap. 2. part 3.\n\n[27] Lady Easy, upon her husband\u2019s reformation, expresses to her friend\nthe following sentiment. \u201cBe satisfy\u2019d; Sir Charles has made me happy,\neven to a pain of joy.\u201d\n\n[28] See chap. 2. part 3.\n\n[29] See chap. 2. part 3.\n\n[30] See chap. 2. part 4.\n\n[31] Chap. 2. part 1. sect. 2.\n\n[32] See chap. 2. part 1. sect. 6.\n\n[33] Act 2.\n\n[34] Omnis enim motus animi, suum quemdam a natura habet vultum et\nsonum et gestum. _Cicero, l. 3. De oratore._\n\n[35] See this explained, Essays on morality and natural religion, part\n2. essay 5.\n\n[36] See chap. 2. part 6.\n\n[37] See chap. 17.\n\n[38] Though a soliloquy in the perturbation of passion is undoubtedly\nnatural, and indeed not unfrequent in real life; yet Congreve, who\nhimself has penned several good soliloquies, yields, with more candor\nthan knowledge, that they are unnatural; and he only pretends to\njustify them from necessity. This he does in his dedication of the\n_Double Dealer_, in the following words. \u201cWhen a man in soliloquy\nreasons with himself, and _pro\u2019s_ and _con\u2019s_, and weighs all his\ndesigns; we ought not to imagine, that this man either talks to us,\nor to himself; he is only thinking, and thinking (frequently) such\nmatter as were inexcuseable folly in him to speak. But because we are\nconcealed spectators of the plot in agitation, and the poet finds it\nnecessary to let us know the whole mystery of his contrivance, he is\nwilling to inform us of this person\u2019s thoughts; and to that end is\nforced to make use of the expedient of speech, no other better way\nbeing yet invented for the communication of thought.\u201d\n\n[39] Act 3. sc. 6.\n\n40\n: The actions here chiefly in view, are what a passion\nsuggests in order to its gratification. Beside these, actions are\noccasionally exerted to give some vent to a passion, without proposing\nan ultimate gratification. Such occasional action is characteristical of\nthe passion in a high degree; and for that reason, when happily\ninvented, has a wonderful good effect in poetry:\n\n      _Hamlet._ Oh most pernicious woman!\n    Oh villain, villain, smiling damned villain!\n    My tables---- meet it is I set it down,\n    That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;\n    At least I\u2019m sure it may be so in Denmark.  [_Writing._\n    So, uncle, there you are.\n               _Hamlet, act 1. sc. 8._\n\n[41] See chap. 2. part 7.\n\n[42] See passions explained as agreeable or disagreeable, chap. 2. part\n2.\n\n[43] Locke.\n\n[44] Rough and blunt manners, are allied to anger by an internal\nfeeling, as well as by external expressions resembling in a faint\ndegree those of anger. Therefore such manners are easily heightened\ninto anger; and savages for that reason are prone to anger. Thus rough\nand blunt manners are unhappy in two respects. They are first readily\nconverted into anger: and next, the change being imperceptible, because\nof the similitude of external signs, the person against whom the\nanger is directed is not put upon his guard. It is for these reasons\na great object in society, to correct such manners, and to bring on\na habit of sweetness and calmness. This temper has two opposite good\neffects. First it is not easily provoked to wrath. Next the interval\nbeing great betwixt it and real anger, a person of this temper who\nreceives an affront, has many changes to go through before his anger\nbe inflamed. These changes have each of them their external sign, and\nthe offending party is put upon his guard, to retire, or to endeavour a\nreconciliation.\n\n[45] See chap. 2. part 1. sect. 5.\n\n[46] See chap. 2. part 7.\n\n[47] See Appendix.\n\n[48] In the _\u00c6neid_, the hero is made to describe himself in the\nfollowing words: _Sum pius \u00c6neas, fama super \u00e6thera notus._ Virgil\ncould never have been guilty of an impropriety so gross, had he assumed\nthe personage of his hero, instead of uttering the sentiments of a\nspectator. Nor would Xenophon have made the following speech for Cyrus\nthe younger, to his Grecian auxiliaries, whom he was leading against\nhis brother Artaxerxes. \u201cI have chosen you, O Greeks! my auxiliaries,\nnot to enlarge my army, for I have _Barbarians_ without number; but\nbecause you surpass all the _Barbarians_ in valour and military\ndiscipline.\u201d This sentiment is Xenophon\u2019s; for surely Cyrus did not\nreckon his countrymen Barbarians.\n\n[49] See chap. 2. part 1. sect 6.\n\n[50] This criticism reaches the French dramatic writers in general,\nwith very few exceptions. Their tragedies are mostly, if not totally,\ndescriptive. Corneille led the way; and later writers following his\ntrack, have accustomed the French ear to a style, formal, pompous,\ndeclamatory, which suits not with any passion. Hence it becomes an\neasy task to burlesk a French tragedy: it is not more difficult than\nto burlesk a stiff solemn fop. The facility of the operation has in\nParis introduced a singular amusement, which is, to burlesk the more\nsuccessful tragedies in a sort of farce, called _a parody_. La Motte,\nwho himself appears to have been sorely galled by some of these burlesk\ncompositions, acknowledges, that no more is necessary to give them a\nrun, than barely to vary the _dramatis person\u00e6_, and in place of kings\nand heroes, queens and princesses, to substitute tinkers and tailors,\nmilkmaids and seamstresses. The declamatory style, so different from\nthe genuine expression of passion, passes in some measure unobserved,\nwhen great personages are the speakers. But in the mouths of the\nvulgar, the impropriety, with regard to the speaker as well as to\nthe passion represented, is so remarkable as to become ridiculous. A\ntragedy, where every passion is made to speak in its natural tone,\nis not liable to be thus burlesked. The same passion is by all men\nexpressed nearly in the same manner: and therefore the genuine\nexpressions of passion cannot be ridiculous in the mouth of any man,\nprovided only he be of such a character as to be susceptible of the\npassion.\n\nIt is a well-known fact, that to an English ear the French actors\nappear to pronounce with too great rapidity; a complaint much insisted\non by Cibber in particular, who had frequently heard the famous Baron\nupon the French stage. This may in some measure be attributed to our\nwant of facility in the French language; as foreigners generally\nimagine, that every language is pronounced too quick by natives.\nBut that it is not the sole cause, will be probable from a fact\ndirectly opposite, that the French are not a little disgusted with\nthe languidness, as they term it, of the English pronunciation. I\nconjecture this difference of taste may be derived from what is\nobserved above. The pronunciation of the genuine language of passion is\nnecessarily directed by the nature of the passion, and by the slowness\nor celerity of its progress. In particular, plaintive passions, which\nare the most frequent in tragedy, having a slow motion, dictate a slow\npronunciation. In declamation again, which is not the genuine language\nof any passion, the speaker warms gradually; and as he warms, he\nnaturally accelerates his pronunciation. But as the French have formed\ntheir tone of pronunciation upon Corneille\u2019s declamatory tragedies, and\nthe English upon the more natural language of Shakespear, it is not\nsurprising that custom should produce such difference of taste in the\ntwo nations.\n\n[51] See chap. 2. part 3.\n\n[52] See chap. 2. part 7.\n\n[53] Titus Livius, l. 29. \u00a717.\n\n[54] Canto 20. stan. 124. 125. & 126.\n\n[55] Page 316.\n\n[56] Act 1. sc. 1.\n\n[57] Act 2. sc. 1.\n\n[58] Beginning of act 2.\n\n[59] Act 3. sc. 3. at the close.\n\n[60] A certain author says humourously, \u201cLes mots m\u00eames d\u2019amour et\nd\u2019amant sont bannis de l\u2019intime soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des deux sexes, et relegu\u00e9s\navec ceux de _chaine_ et de _flame_ dans les Romans qu\u2019on ne lit plus.\u201d\nAnd where nature is once banished, a fair field is open to every\nfantastic imitation, even the most extravagant.\n\n[61] Act 4. sc. 5.\n\n[62] Act 4. sc. 7.\n\n[63] This observation is finely illustrated by a story which Herodotus\nrecords, _book 3_. Cambyses when he conquered Egypt, took Psammenitus\nthe King prisoner: and to try his constancy, ordered his daughter to be\ndressed in the habit of a slave, and to be employ\u2019d in bringing water\nfrom the river. His son also was led to execution with a halter about\nhis neck. The Egyptians vented their sorrow in tears and lamentations.\nPsammenitus only, with a down-cast eye, remained silent. Afterward\nmeeting one of his companions, a man advanced in years, who being\nplundered of all, was begging alms, he wept bitterly, calling him by\nhis name. Cambyses was struck with wonder, and sent a messenger with\nthe following question, \u201cPsammenitus, thy master Cambyses is desirous\nto know, why, after thou hadst seen thy daughter so ignominiously\ntreated, and thy son led to execution, without exclamation or weeping,\nthou shouldst be so highly concerned for a poor man no way related to\nthee?\u201d Psammenitus returned the following answer: \u201cSon of Cyrus, the\ncalamities of my family are too great to leave me the power of weeping:\nbut the misfortunes of a companion, reduced in his old age to want of\nbread, is a fit subject for lamentation.\u201d\n\n[64] See chap. 2. part 3.\n\n[65] Chap. 16.\n\n[66] See this explained more particularly in chap. 8.\n\n[67] Of this take the following specimen:\n\n    They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase\n    Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes\n    From our atchievements, though perform\u2019d at height,\n    The pith and marrow of our attribute.\n    So, oft it chances in particular men,\n    That for some vicious mole of nature in them,\n    As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty,\n    Since Nature cannot chuse his origin),\n    By the o\u2019ergrowth of some complexion\n    Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;\n    Or by some habit, that too much o\u2019er-leavens\n    The form of plausive manners; that these men\n    Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,\n    (Being Nature\u2019s livery, or Fortune\u2019s scar),\n    Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace,\n    As infinite as man may undergo,\n    Shall in the general censure take corruption\n    From that particular fault.\n         _Hamlet, act 1. sc. 7._\n\n\n\n[68] The critics seem not perfectly to comprehend the genius of\nShakespear. His plays are defective in the mechanical part, which\nis less the work of genius than of experience; and is not otherwise\nbrought to perfection than by diligently observing the errors of\nformer compositions. Shakespear excels all the ancients and moderns,\nin knowledge of human nature, and in unfolding even the most obscure\nand refined emotions. This is a rare faculty, and of the greatest\nimportance in a dramatic author; and it is this faculty which makes him\nsurpass all other writers in the comic as well as tragic vein.\n\n[69] Soliloquies accounted for chap. 15.\n\n[70] Act 2. sc. 2.\n\n[71] Act 1. sc. 1.\n\n[72] Act 1. sc. 2.\n\n[73] Act 1. sc. 2.\n\n[74] See chap. 2. part 1. sect. 4.\n\n[75] Here the German _a_ is understood.\n\n[76] That the Italian tongue is rather too smooth, seems to appear from\nconsidering, that in versification vowels are frequently suppressed in\norder to produce a rougher and bolder tone.\n\n[77] See Swift\u2019s proposal for correcting the English tongue, in a\nletter to the Earl of Oxford.\n\n[78] See the reason, chap. 8.\n\n[79] De structura perfect\u00e6 orationis, l. 2.\n\n[80] Scot\u2019s Christian life.\n\n[81] Elements of criticism, vol. 1. p. 43.\n\n[82] Chap. 2. part 4.\n\n[83] Ibid.\n\n[84] See Gerard\u2019s French grammar, discourse 12.\n\n[85] An argument against abolishing Christianity, Swift.\n\n[86] Letter concerning enthusiasm. Shaftesbury.\n\n[87] See chap. 8.\n\n[88] Treatise of the sublime, cap. 16.\n\n[89] Taking advantage of a declension to separate an adjective from its\nsubstantive, as is commonly practised in Latin, though it detract not\nfrom perspicuity, is certainly less neat than the English method of\njuxtaposition. Contiguity is more expressive of an intimate relation,\nthan resemblance merely of the final syllables. Latin indeed has\nevidently the advantage when the adjective and substantive happen to\nbe connected by contiguity as well as by the resemblance of the final\nsyllables.\n\n[90] See chap. 1.\n\n[91] Reflections sur la poesie Fran\u00e7oise.\n\n[92] See chap. 2. part 1. sect. 4.\n\n[93] Poet. L. 3. l. 365.-454.\n\n[94] See chap. 2. part 4.\n\n[95] De oratore, l. 3. cap. 58.\n\n[96] De structura orationis, sect. 2.\n\n[97] From this passage, however, we discover the etymology of the\nLatin term for musical expression. Every one being sensible that there\nis no music in a continued sound; the first inquiries were probably\ncarried no farther, than that to produce a musical expression, a number\nof sounds is necessary; and musical expression obtained the name of\n_numerus_, before it was clearly ascertained, that variety is necessary\nas well as number.\n\n[98] Music, properly so called, is analysed into melody and harmony.\nA succession of sounds so as to be agreeable to the ear, constitutes\nmelody. Harmony is the pleasure that arises from co-existing sounds.\nVerse therefore can only reach melody, and not harmony.\n\n[99] After some attention given to this subject, and weighing\ndeliberately every circumstance, I have been forc\u2019d to rest upon the\nforegoing conclusion, That the Dactyle and Spondee are no other than\nartificial measures invented for trying the accuracy of composition.\nRepeated experiments convince me, that though the sense should be\naltogether neglected, an Hexameter line read by Dactyles and Spondees,\nwill not be melodious. And the composition of an Hexameter line\ndemonstrates this to be true, without necessity of an experiment. It\nwill appear afterward, that in an Hexameter line, there must always\nbe a capital pause at the end of the fifth long syllable, reckoning,\nas above, two short for one long. And when we measure this line by\nDactyles and Spondees, the pause now mentioned divides always a Dactyle\nor a Spondee: it never falls in at the end of either of these feet.\nHence it is evident, that if a line be pronounced, as it is scanned,\nby Dactyles and Spondees, the pause must be utterly neglected; which\nconsequently must destroy the melody, because a pause is essential to\nthe melody of an Hexameter verse. If, on the other hand, the melody\nbe preserved by making this pause, the pronouncing by Dactyles and\nSpondees must be abandoned.\n\nWhat has led grammarians into the use of Dactyles and Spondees, seems\nnot beyond the reach of conjecture. To produce melody, the latter\npart of a Hexameter line consisting of a Dactyle and a Spondee,\nmust be read according to these feet: in this part of the line, the\nDactyle and Spondee are distinctly expressed in the pronunciation.\nThis discovery, joined with another, that the foregoing part of the\nverse could be measured by the same feet, has led grammarians to adopt\nthese artificial measures, and perhaps rashly to conclude, that the\npronunciation is directed by these feet as well as the composition.\nThe Dactyle and Spondee at the close, serve indeed the double purpose\nof regulating the pronunciation as well as the composition: but in the\nforegoing part of the line, they regulate the composition only, not the\npronunciation.\n\nIf we must have feet in verse to regulate the pronunciation, and\nconsequently the melody, these feet must be determined by the pauses.\nThe whole syllables interjected betwixt two pauses ought to be deemed\none musical foot; because, to preserve the melody, they must all be\npronounced together, without any stop. And therefore, whatever number\nthere are of pauses in a Hexameter line, the parts into which it is\ndivided by these pauses, make just so many musical feet.\n\nConnection obliges me here to anticipate, by observing, that the\nsame doctrine is applicable to English heroic verse. Considering its\ncomposition merely, it is of two kinds. One is composed of five Iambi;\nand one of a Troch\u00e6us followed by four Iambi. But these feet afford no\nrule for pronouncing. The musical feet are obviously those parts of the\nline that are interjected betwixt two pauses. To bring out the melody,\nthese feet must be expressed in the pronunciation; or, which comes to\nthe same, the pronunciation must be directed by the pauses, without\nregard to the Iambus or Troch\u00e6us.\n\n[100] See chap. 2. part 1. sect. 4.\n\n[101] Poet. cap. 25.\n\n[102] See chap. 9.\n\n[103] Vossius, _de poematum cantu_, p. 26. says, \u201cNihil \u00e6que gravitati\norationis officit, quam in sono ludere syllabarum.\u201d\n\n[104] Spectator, N\u00ba 285.\n\n[105] Preface to his _\u0152dipus_, and in his discourse upon tragedy,\nprefixed to the tragedy of _Brutus_.","title":"Elements of Criticism, Volume II.","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":78609}