Chapter V: Part 5

How far distant are soliloquies generally from these models? They are indeed for the most part so unhappily executed, as to give disgust instead of pleasure. The first scene of _Iphigenia_ in Tauris discovers that princess, in a soliloquy, gravely reporting to herself her own history. There is the same impropriety in the first scene of Alcestes, and in the other introductions of Euripides, almost without exception. Nothing can be more ridiculous. It puts one in mind of that ingenious device in Gothic paintings, of making every figure explain itself by a written label issuing from its mouth. The description a parasite, in the _Eunuch_ of Terence[70], gives of himself in the form of a soliloquy, is lively; but against all the rules of propriety; for no man, in his ordinary state of mind, and upon a familiar subject, ever thinks of talking aloud to himself. The same objection lies against a soliloquy in the _Adelphi_ of the same author[71]. The soliloquy which makes the third scene, act third, of his _Heicyra_, is insufferable; for there Pamphilus, soberly and circumstantially, relates to himself an adventure which had happened to him a moment before.

Corneille is not more happy in his soliloquies than in his dialogue. Take for a specimen the first scene of _Cinna_.

Racine also is extremely faulty in the same respect. His soliloquies, almost without exception, are regular harangues, a chain completed in every link, without interruption or interval. That of Antiochus in _Berenice_[72] resembles a regular pleading, where the parties _pro_ and _con_ display their arguments at full length. The following soliloquies are equally destitute of propriety: _Bajazet_, act 3. sc. 7. _Mithridate_, act 3. sc. 4. & act 4. sc. 5. _Iphigenia_, act 4. sc. 8.

Soliloquies upon lively or interesting subjects, but without any turbulence of passion, may be carried on in a continued chain of thought. If, for example, the nature and sprightliness of the subject prompt a man to speak his thoughts in the form of a dialogue, the expression must be carried on without break or interruption, as in a dialogue betwixt two persons. This justifies Falstaff’s soliloquy upon honour:

What need I be so forward with Death, that calls not on me? Well,
’tis no matter, Honour pricks me on. But how if Honour prick me
off, when I come on? how then? Can Honour set a leg? No: or an arm?
No: or take away the grief of a wound? No: Honour hath no skill in
surgery then? No. What is Honour? A word.--What is that word
_honour_? Air; a trim reckoning.---- Who hath it? He that dy’d a
Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it
insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the
living? No: Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore, I’ll
none of it; honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.

_First part Henry IV. act 5. sc. 2._

And even without dialogue, a continued discourse may be justified, where the soliloquy is upon an important subject that makes a strong impression, but without much agitation. For if it be at all excusable to think aloud, it is necessary that the language with the reasoning be carried on in a chain without a broken link. In this view that admirable soliloquy in _Hamlet_ upon life and immortality, being a serene meditation upon the most interesting of all subjects, ought to escape censure. And the same consideration will justify the soliloquy that introduces the 5th act of Addison’s _Cato_.

* * * * *

The next class of the grosser errors which all writers ought to avoid, shall be of language elevated above the tone of the sentiment; of which take the following instances.

_Zara._ Swift as occasion, I
Myself will fly; and earlier than the morn
Wake thee to freedom. Now ’tis late; and yet
Some news few minutes past arriv’d, which seem’d
To shake the temper of the King---- Who knows
What racking cares disease a monarch’s bed?
Or love, that late at night still lights his lamp,
And strikes his rays through dusk, and folded lids,
Forbidding rest, may stretch his eyes awake,
And force their balls abroad at this dead hour.
I’ll try.
_Mourning Bride, act 3. sc. 4._

The language here is undoubtedly too pompous and laboured for describing so simple a circumstance as absence of sleep. In the following passage, the tone of the language, warm and plaintive, is well suited to the passion, which is recent grief. But every one will be sensible, that in the last couplet save one, the tone is changed, and the mind suddenly elevated to be let fall as suddenly in the last couplet.

Il déteste à jamais sa coupable victoire,
Il renonce à la cour, aux humains, à la gloire;
Et se fuïant lui-même, au milieu des deserts,
Il va cacher sa peine au bout de l’univers;
La, soit que le soleil rendît le jour au monde,
Soit qu’il finît sa course au vaste sein de l’onde,
Sa voix faisoit redire aux echos attendris,
Le nom, le triste nom, de son malheureux fils.
_Henriade, chant. viii. 229._

Language too artificial or too figurative for the gravity, dignity, or importance, of the occasion, may be put in a third class.

* * * * *

Chimene demanding justice against Rodrigue who killed her father, instead of a plain and pathetic expostulation, makes a speech stuffed with the most artificial flowers of rhetoric:

Sire, mon pere est mort, mes yeux ont vû son sang
Couler à gros bouillons de son généreux flanc;
Ce sang qui tant de fois garantit vos murailles,
Ce sang qui tant de fois vous gagna des batailles,
Ce sang qui, tout sorti fume encore de courroux
De se voir répandu pour d’autres que pour vous,
Qu’au milieu des hazards n’osoit verser la guerre,
Rodrigue en votre cour vient d’en couvrir la terre.
J’ai couru sur le lieu sans force, et sans couleur;
Je l’ai trouvé sans vie. Excusez ma douleur,
Sire; la voix me manque à ce récit funeste,
Mes pleurs et mes soupirs vous diront mieux le reste.

And again:

Son flanc etoit ouvert, et, pour mieux m’emouvoir,
Son sang sur la poussiére écrivoit mon devoire;
Ou plutôt sa valeur en cet état réduite
Me parloit par sa plaie, et hâtoit ma pursuite,
Et pour se faire entendre au plus juste des Rois,
Par cette triste bouche elle empruntoit ma voix.
_Act 2. sc. 9._

Nothing can be contrived in language more averse to the tone of the passion than this florid speech. I should imagine it more apt to provoke laughter than to inspire concern or pity.

* * * * *

In a fourth class shall be given specimens of language too light or airy for a severe passion.

* * * * *

The agony a mother must feel upon the savage murder of two hopeful sons, rejects all imagery and figurative expression, as discordant in the highest degree. Therefore the following passage is undoubtedly in a bad taste:

_Queen._ Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes,
My unblown flow’rs, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fixt in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother’s lamentation.
_Richard III. act 4. sc. 4._

Again,

_K. Philip._ You are as fond of grief as of your child.

_Constance._ Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garment with his form;
Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
_King John, act 3. sc. 6._

A thought that turns upon the expression instead of the subject, commonly called _a play of words_, being low and childish, is unworthy of any composition, whether gay or serious, that pretends to the smallest share of dignity. Thoughts of this kind make a fifth class.

* * * * *

In the _Aminta_ of Tasso[73] the lover falls into a mere play of words, demanding how he who had lost himself, could find a mistress. And for the same reason, the following passage in Corneille has been generally condemned:

_Chimene._ Mon pere est mort, Elvire, et la premiére épée
Dont s’est armé Rodrigue à sa trame coupée.
Pleurez, pleurez, mes yeux, et fondez-vous en eau,
La moitié de ma vie a mis l’autre au tombeau,
Et m’oblige à venger, aprés ce coup funeste,
Celle que je n’ai plus, sur celle qui me reste.
_Cid, act 3. sc. 3._

To die is to be banish’d from myself:
And Sylvia is myself; banish’d from her,
Is self from self; a deadly banishment!
_Two Gentlemen of Verona, act 3. sc. 3._

_Countess._ I pray thee, Lady, have a better cheer:
If thou ingrossest all the griefs as thine,
Thou robb’st me of a moiety.
_All’s well that ends well, act 3. sc. 3._

_K. Henry._ O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!
When that my care could not with-hold thy riots,
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.
_Second part, Henry IV. act 4. sc. 11._

Cruda Amarilli, che col nome ancora
D’amar, ahi lasso, amaramente insegni.
_Pastor Fido, act 1. sc. 2._

Antony, speaking of Julius Cæsar:

O world! thou wast the forest of this hart;
And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.
How like a deer, stricken by many princes,
Dost thou here lie!
_Julius Cæsar, act 3. sc. 3._

Playing thus with the sound of words, which is still worse than a pun, is the meanest of all conceits. But Shakespear, when he descends to a play of words, is not always in the wrong; for it is done sometimes to denote a peculiar character; as is the following passage.

_King Philip._ What say’st thou, boy? look in the lady’s face.

_Lewis._ I do, my Lord, and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wond’rous miracle;
The shadow of myself form’d in her eye;
Which being but the shadow of your son,
Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow.
I do protest, I never lov’d myself,
Till now infixed I beheld myself
Drawn in the flatt’ring table of her eye.

_Faulconbridge._ Drawn in the flatt’ring table of her eye!
Hang’d in the frowning wrinkle of her brow!
And quarter’d in her heart! he doth espy
Himself Love’s traitor: this is pity now,
That hang’d, and drawn, and quarter’d, there should be,
In such a love so vile a lout as he.
_King John, act. 2. sc. 5._

A jingle of words is the lowest species of this low wit; which is scarce sufferable in any case, and least of all in an heroic poem. And yet Milton in some instances has descended to this puerility:

And brought into the world a world of wo.
---- Begirt th’ almighty throne
Beseeching or besieging----
Which tempted our attempt----
At one slight bound high overleap’d all bound,
---- With a shout
Loud as from numbers without number.

One should think it unnecessary to enter a caveat against an expression that has no meaning, or no distinct meaning; and yet somewhat of this kind may be found even among good writers. These make a sixth class.

_Sebastian._ I beg no pity for this mould’ring clay.
For if you give it burial, there it takes
Possession of your earth:
If burnt and scatter’d in the air; the winds
That strow my dust, diffuse my royalty,
And spread me o’er your clime; for where one atom
Of mine shall light, know there Sebastian reigns.
_Dryden, Don Sebastian King of Portugal, act 1._

_Cleopatra._ Now, what news my Charmion?
Will he be kind? and will he not forsake me?
Am I to live or die? nay, do I live?
Or am I dead? for when he gave his answer,
Fate took the word, and then I liv’d or dy’d.
_Dryden, All for Love, act 2._

If she be coy, and scorn my noble fire,
If her chill heart I cannot move;
Why, I’ll enjoy the very love,
And make a mistress of my own desire.
_Cowley, poem inscribed_, The Request.

His whole poem, inscribed, _My Picture_, is a jargon of the same kind:

---- ’Tis he, they cry, by whom
Not men, but war itself is overcome.
_Indian Queen._

Such empty expressions are finely ridiculed in the _Rehearsal_:

Was’t not unjust to ravish hence her breath,
And in life’s stead to leave us nought but death?
_Act 4. sc 1._

CHAP. XVIII.

Beauty of Language.

Of all the fine arts, painting only and sculpture are in their nature imitative. A field laid out with taste, is not, properly speaking, a copy or imitation of nature, but nature itself embellished. Architecture deals in originals, and copies not from nature. Sound and motion may in some measure be imitated by music; but for the most part music, like architecture, deals in originals. Language has no archetype in nature, more than music or architecture; unless where, like music, it is imitative of sound or motion. In the description of particular sounds, language sometimes happily furnisheth words, which, beside their customary power of exciting ideas, resemble by their softness or harshness the sound described: and there are words, which, by the celerity or slowness of pronunciation, have some resemblance to the motion they signify. This imitative power of words goes one step farther. The loftiness of some words, makes them proper symbols of lofty ideas: a rough subject is imitated by harsh-sounding words; and words of many syllables pronounced slow and smooth, are naturally expressive of grief and melancholy. Words have a separate effect on the mind, abstracting from their signification and from their imitative power. They are more or less agreeable to the ear, by the roundness, sweetness, faintness, or roughness, of their tones.

These are beauties, but not of the first rank: They are relished by those only, who have more delicacy of sensation than belongs to the bulk of mankind. Language possesseth a beauty superior greatly in degree, of which we are eminently conscious when a thought is communicated in a strong and lively manner. This beauty of language, arising from its power of expressing thought, is apt to be confounded with the beauty of the thought expressed; which beauty, by a natural transition of feeling among things intimately connected, is convey’d to the expression, and makes it appear more beautiful[74]. But these beauties, if we wish to think accurately, must be carefully distinguished from each other. They are indeed so distinct, that we sometimes are conscious of the highest pleasure language can afford, when the subject expressed is disagreeable. A thing that is loathsome, or a scene of horror to make one’s hair stand on end, may be described in the liveliest manner. In this case, the disagreeableness of the subject, doth not even obscure the agreeableness of the description. The causes of the original beauty of language considered as significant, which is a branch of the present subject, will be explained in their order. I shall only at present observe, that this beauty is the beauty of means fitted to an end, _viz._ the communication of thought. And hence it evidently appears, that of several expressions all conveying the same thought, the most beautiful, in the sense now mentioned, is that which in the most perfect manner answers its end.

The several beauties of language above mentioned, being of different kinds and distinguishable from each other, ought to be handled separately. I shall begin with those beauties of language which arise from sound; after which will follow the beauties of language considered as significant. This order appears natural; for the sound of a word is attended to, before we consider its signification. In a third section come those singular beauties of language that are derived from a resemblance betwixt sound and signification. The beauties of verse I propose to handle in the last section. For though the foregoing beauties are found in verse as well as in prose; yet verse has many peculiar beauties, which for the sake of perspicuity must be brought under one view. And versification, at any rate, is a subject of so great importance, as to deserve a place by itself.

SECT. I.

_Beauty of language with respect to sound._

I propose to handle this subject in the following order, which appears the most natural. The sounds of the different letters come first. Next, these sounds as united in syllables. Third, syllables united in words. Fourth, words united in a period. And in the last place, periods united in a discourse.

With respect to the first article, every vowel is sounded by a single expiration of air from the wind-pipe through the cavity of the mouth; and by varying this cavity, the different vowels are sounded. The air in passing through cavities differing in size, produceth various sounds, some high or sharp, some low or flat. A small cavity occasions a high sound, a large cavity a low sound. The five vowels accordingly, pronounced with the same extension of the wind-pipe, but with different openings of the mouth, form a regular series of sounds, descending from high to low, in the following order, _i_, _e_, _a_[75], _o_, _u_. Each of these sounds is agreeable to the ear. And if it be inquired which of them is the most agreeable, it is perhaps the safest side to hold, that there is no universal preference of any one before the rest. Probably those vowels which are farthest removed from the extremes, will generally be the most relished. This is all I have to remark upon the first article. For consonants being letters which of themselves have no sound, have no other power but to form articulate sounds in conjunction with vowels; and every such articulate sound being a syllable, consonants come naturally under the second article. To which therefore we proceed.

All consonants are pronounced with a less cavity than any of the vowels; and consequently they contribute to form a sound still more sharp than the sharpest vowel pronounced single. Hence it follows, that every articulate sound into which a consonant enters, must necessarily be double, though pronounced with one expiration of air, or with one breath as commonly expressed. The reason is, that though two sounds readily unite; yet where they differ in tone, both of them must be heard if neither of them be suppressed. For the same reason, every syllable must be composed of as many sounds as there are letters, supposing every letter to be distinctly pronounced.

We next inquire, how far articulate sounds into which consonants enter, are agreeable to the ear. With respect to this point, there is a noted observation, that all sounds of difficult pronunciation are to the ear harsh in proportion. Few tongues are so polished as entirely to have rejected sounds that are pronounced with difficulty; and such sounds must in some measure be disagreeable. But with respect to agreeable sounds, it appears, that a double sound is always more agreeable than a single sound. Every one who has an ear must be sensible, that the diphthongs _oi_ or _ai_ are more agreeable than any of these vowels pronounced singly. And the same holds where a consonant enters into the double sound. The syllable _le_ has a more agreeable sound than the vowel _e_ or than any vowel. And in support of experience, a satisfactory argument may be drawn from the wisdom of Providence. Speech is bestowed upon man, to qualify him for society. The provision he hath of articulate sounds, is proportioned to the use he hath for them. But if sounds that are agreeable singly were not also agreeable in conjunction, the necessity of a painful selection would render language intricate and difficult to be attained in any perfection. And this selection, at the same time, would tend to abridge the number of useful sounds, so as perhaps not to leave sufficient for answering the different ends of language.

In this view, the harmony of pronunciation differs widely from that of music properly so called. In the latter are discovered many sounds singly agreeable, that in conjunction are extremely disagreeable; none but what are called _concordant sounds_ having a good effect in conjunction. In the former, all sounds singly agreeable are in conjunction concordant; and ought to be, in order to fulfil the purposes of language.

Having discussed syllables, we proceed to words; which make a third article. Monosyllables belong to the former head. Polysyllables open a different scene. In a cursory view, one will readily imagine, that the effect a word hath upon the ear, must depend entirely upon the agreeableness or disagreeableness of its component syllables. In part it doth; but not entirely; for we must also take under consideration the effect that a number of syllables composing a word have in succession. In the first place, syllables in immediate succession, pronounced, each of them, with the same or nearly the same aperture of the mouth, produce a weak and imperfect sound; witness the French words _détêté_ (detested), _dit-il_ (says he), _patetique_ (pathetic). On the other hand, a syllable of the greatest aperture succeeding one of the smallest, or the opposite, makes a succession, which, because of its remarkable disagreeableness, is distinguished by a proper name, _viz. hiatus_. The most agreeable succession, is, where the cavity is increased and diminished alternately by moderate intervals. Secondly, words consisting wholly of syllables pronounced slow or of syllables pronounced quick, commonly called _long_ and _short syllables_, have little melody in them. Witness the words _petitioner_, _fruiterer_, _dizziness_. On the other hand, the intermixture of long and short syllables is remarkably agreeable; for example, _degree_, _repent_, _wonderful_, _altitude_, _rapidity_, _independent_, _impetuosity_. The cause will be explained afterward, in treating of versification.

Distinguishable from the beauties above mentioned, there is a beauty of some words which arises from their signification. When the emotion raised by the length or shortness, the roughness or smoothness, of the sound, resembles in any degree what is raised by the sense, we feel a very remarkable pleasure. But this subject belongs to the third section.

The foregoing observations afford a standard to every nation, for estimating, pretty accurately, the comparative merit of the words that enter into their own language. And though at first view they may be thought equally useful for estimating the comparative merit of different languages; yet this holds not in fact, because no person can readily be found who is sufficiently qualified to apply the standard. What I mean is, that different nations judge differently of the harshness or smoothness of articulate sounds: a sound, harsh and disagreeable to an Italian, may be abundantly smooth to a northern ear. Where are we to find a judge to determine this controversy? and supposing a judge, upon what principle is his decision to be founded? The case here is precisely the same as in behaviour and manners. Plain-dealing and sincerity, liberty in words and actions, form the character of one people. Politeness, reserve, and a total disguise of every sentiment that can give offence, form the character of another people. To each the manners of the other are disagreeable. An effeminate mind cannot bear the least of that roughness and severity, which is generally esteemed manly when exerted upon proper occasions. Neither can an effeminate ear bear the least harshness in words that are deemed nervous and sounding by those accustomed to a rougher tone of language. Must we then relinquish all thoughts of comparing languages in the point of roughness and smoothness, as a fruitless inquiry? Not altogether so; for we may proceed a certain length, though without hope of an ultimate decision. A language with difficulty pronounced even by natives, must yield the preference to a smoother language. Again, supposing two languages pronounced with equal facility by natives, the preference, in my judgement, ought to be in favour of the rougher language; provided it be also stored with a competent share of more mellow sounds. This will be evident from attending to the different effects that articulate sound hath upon the mind. A smooth gliding sound is agreeable, by smoothing the mind and lulling it to rest. A rough bold sound, on the contrary, animates the mind. The effort perceived in pronouncing, is communicated to the hearers: they feel in their own minds a similar effort, which rouses their attention and disposes them to action. I must add another consideration. The agreeableness of contrast in the rougher language, for which the great variety of sounds gives ample opportunity, must, even in an effeminate ear, prevail over the more uniform sounds of the smoother language[76]. This appears to me all that can be safely determined upon the present point. With respect to the other circumstances that constitute the beauty of words, the standard above mentioned is infallible when apply’d to foreign languages as well as to our own. For every man, whatever be his mother-tongue, is equally capable to judge of the length or shortness of words, of the alternate opening and closing of the mouth in speaking, and of the relation which the sound bears to the sense. In these particulars, the judgement is susceptible of no prejudice from custom, at least of no invincible prejudice.

That the English tongue, originally harsh, is at present much softened by dropping in the pronunciation many redundant consonants, is undoubtedly true. That it is not capable of being farther mellowed, without suffering in its force and energy, will scarce be thought by any one who possesses an ear. And yet such in Britain is the propensity for dispatch, that overlooking the majesty of words composed of many syllables aptly connected, the prevailing taste is, to shorten words, even at the expence of making them disagreeable to the ear and harsh in the pronunciation. But I have no occasion to insist upon this article, being prevented by an excellent writer, who possessed, if any man ever did, the true genius of the English tongue[77]. I cannot however forbear urging one observation borrowed from that author. Several tenses of our verbs are formed by adding the final syllable _ed_, which, being a weak sound, has remarkably the worse effect by possessing the most conspicuous place in the word. Upon that account, the vowel is in common speech generally suppressed, and the consonant is added to the foregoing syllable. Hence the following rugged sounds, _drudg’d_, _disturb’d_, _rebuk’d_, _fledg’d_. It is still less excuseable to follow this practice in writing; for the hurry of speaking may excuse what is altogether improper in a composition of any value. The syllable _ed_, it is true, makes but a poor figure at the end of a word: but we ought to submit to that defect, rather than multiply the number of harsh words, which, after all that has been done, bear an over-proportion in our tongue. The author above mentioned, by showing a good example, did all in his power to restore that syllable; and he well deserves to be imitated. Some exceptions however I would make. A word which signifies labour, or any thing harsh or rugged, ought not to be smooth. Therefore _forc’d_, with an apostrophe, is better than _forced_, without it. Another exception is, where the penult syllable ends with a vowel. In that case the final syllable _ed_ may be apostrophized without making the word harsh. Examples, _betray’d_, _carry’d_, _destroy’d_, _employ’d_.

The article next in order, is to consider the music of words as united in a period. And as the arrangement of words in succession so as to afford the greatest pleasure to the ear, depends on principles pretty remote from common view, it will be necessary to premise some general observations upon the effect that a number of objects have upon the mind when they are placed in an increasing or decreasing series. The effect of such a series will be very different, according as resemblance or contrast prevails. Where the members of a series vary by small differences, resemblance prevails; which, in ascending, makes us conceive the second object of no greater size than the first, the third of no greater size than the second, and so of the rest. This diminisheth in appearance the size of the whole. Again, when beginning at the largest object, we proceed gradually to the least, resemblance makes us imagine the second as large as the first, and the third as large as the second; which in appearance magnifies every object of the series except the first. On the other hand, in a series varying by great differences, where contrast prevails, the effects are directly opposite. A large object succeeding a small one of the same kind, appears by the opposition larger than usual: and a small object, for the same reason, succeeding one that is large, appears less than usual[78]. Hence a remarkable pleasure in viewing a series ascending by large intervals; directly opposite to what we feel when the intervals are small. Beginning at the smallest object of a series where contrast prevails, this object has the same effect upon the mind as if it stood single without making a part of the series. But this is not the case of the second object, which by means of contrast makes a much greater figure than when viewed singly and apart; and the same effect is perceived in ascending progressively, till we arrive at the last object. The direct contrary effect is produced in descending; for in this direction, every object, except the first, makes a less figure than when viewed separately and independent of the series. We may then lay down as a maxim, which will hold in the composition of language as well as of other subjects, That a strong impulse succeeding a weak, makes a double impression on the mind; and that a weak impulse succeeding a strong, makes scarce any impression.

After establishing this maxim, we can be at no loss about its application to the subject in hand. The following rule is laid down by Diomedes[79]. “In verbis observandum est, ne a majoribus ad minora descendat oratio; melius enim dicitur, _Vir est optimus_, quam, _Vir optimus est_.” This rule is applicable not only to single words, but equally to entire members of a period, which, according to our author’s expression, ought not more than single words to proceed from the greater to the less, but from the less to the greater. In arranging the members of a period, no writer equals Cicero. The beauty of the following examples out of many, will not suffer me to slur them over by a reference.

Quicum quæstor fueram,
Quicum me sors consuetudoque majorum,
Quicum me Deorum hominumque judicium conjunxerat.

Again:

Habet honorem quem petimus,
Habet spem quam præpositam nobis habemus,
Habet existimationem, multo sudore, labore, vigiliisque, collectam.

Again:

Eripite nos ex miseriis,
Eripite nos ex faucibus eorum,
Quorum crudelitas, nostro sanguine non potest expleri.
_De oratore, l. 1. § 52._

This order of words or members gradually increasing in length, may, so far as concerns the pleasure of sound singly, be denominated _a climax in sound_.

The last article is the music of periods as united in a discourse; which shall be dispatched in a very few words. By no other human means is it possible to present to the mind, such a number of objects and in so swift a succession, as by speaking or writing. And for that reason, variety ought more to be studied in these, than in any other sort of composition. Hence a rule regarding the arrangement of the members of different periods with relation to each other, That to avoid a tedious uniformity of sound and cadence, the arrangement, the cadence, and the length of these members, ought to be diversified as much as possible. And if the members of different periods be sufficiently diversified, the periods themselves will be equally so.

SECT. II.

_Beauty of language with respect to signification._

It is well said by a noted writer[80], “That by means of speech we can divert our sorrows, mingle our mirth, impart our secrets, communicate our counsels, and make mutual compacts and agreements to supply and assist each other.” Considering speech as contributing thus to so many good purposes, it follows, that the chusing words which have an accurate meaning, and tend to convey clear and distinct ideas, must be one of its capital beauties. This cause of beauty, is too extensive to be handled as a branch of any other subject. To ascertain with accuracy even the proper meaning of words, not to talk of their figurative power, would require a large volume; an useful work indeed; but not to be attempted without a large stock of time, study, and reflection. This branch therefore of the subject I must humbly decline. Nor do I propose to exhaust all the other beauties of language with respect to signification. The reader, in a work like the present, cannot fairly expect more than a slight sketch of those that make the greatest figure. This is a task which I attempt the more willingly, as it appears to be connected with some principles in human nature; and the rules I shall have occasion to lay down, will, if I judge aright, be agreeable illustrations of these principles. Every subject must be of importance that tends in any measure to unfold the human heart; for what other science is more worthy of human beings?

The present subject is so extensive, that, to prevent confusion, it must be divided into parts; and what follows suggests a division into two parts. In every period, two things are to be regarded, equally capital; first, the words of which the period is composed; next, the arrangement of these words. The former resemble the stones that compose a building; and the latter resembles the order in which these stones are placed. Hence the beauty of language with respect to its meaning, may not improperly be distinguished into two kinds. The first consists in a right choice of words or materials for constructing the period; and the other consists in a due arrangement of these words or materials. I shall begin with rules that direct us to a right choice of words, and then proceed to rules that concern their arrangement.

And with respect to the former, communication of thought being the principal end of language, it is a rule, That perspicuity ought not to be sacrificed to any other beauty whatever. If it should be doubted whether perspicuity be a positive beauty, it cannot be doubted, that the want of it is the greatest defect. Nothing therefore in the structure of language ought more to be studied, than to prevent all obscurity in the expression; for to have no meaning, is but one degree worse than to express it so as not to be understood. Want of perspicuity from a wrong arrangement, belongs to the next branch. I shall give a few examples where the obscurity arises from a wrong choice of words; and as this defect is so common in ordinary writers as to make examples from them unnecessary, I confine myself to the most celebrated authors.

* * * * *

Livy, speaking of a rout after a battle,

Multique in ruina majore quam fuga oppressi obtruncatique.
_L. 4. § 46._

Unde tibi reditum _certo subtemine_ Parcæ
Rupere.
_Horace, epod. xiii. 22._.

Qui persæpe cava testudine flevit amorem,
_Non elaboratum ad pedem_.
_Horace, epod. xiv. 11._

Me fabulosæ Vulture in Appulo,
Altricis extra limen Apuliæ,
Ludo, fatigatumque _somno_,
Fronde nova puerum palumbes
Texere.
_Horace, Carm. l. 3. ode 4._

Puræ rivus aquæ, silvaque jugerum
Paucorum, et segetis certa fides meæ,
Fulgentem imperio fertilis Africæ
Fallit sorte beatior.
_Horace, Carm. l. 3. ode 16._

Cum fas atque nefas exiguo _fine_ libidinum
Discernunt avidi.
_Horace, Carm. l. 1. ode 18._

Ac spem fronte serenat.
_Æneid iv. 477._

There is want of neatness even in an ambiguity so slight as that is which arises from the construction merely; as where the period commences with a member which is conceived to be in the nominative case, and which afterward is found to be in the accusative. Example: “Some emotions more peculiarly connected with the fine arts, I propose to handle in separate chapters[81].” Better thus: “Some emotions more peculiarly connected with the fine arts, are proposed to be handled in separate chapters.”

* * * * *

The rule next in order, because next in importance, is, That the language ought to correspond to the subject. Grand or heroic actions or sentiments require elevated language: tender sentiments ought to be expressed in words soft and flowing; and plain language devoid of ornament, is adapted to subjects grave and didactic. Language may be considered as the dress of thought; and where the one is not suited to the other, we are sensible of incongruity, in the same manner as where a judge is dressed like a fop, or a peasant like a man of quality. The intimate connection that words have with their meaning, requires that both be in the same tone. Or, to express the thing more plainly, the impression made by the words ought as nearly as possible to resemble the impression made by the thought. The similar emotions mix sweetly in the mind, and augment the pleasure[82]. On the other hand, where the impressions made by the thought and the words are dissimilar, they are forc’d into a sort of unnatural union, which is disagreeable[83].

In the preceding chapter, concerning the language of passion, I had occasion to give many examples of deviations from this rule with regard to the manner of expressing passions and their sentiments. But as the rule concerns the manner of expressing thoughts and ideas of all kinds, it has an extensive influence in directing us to the choice of proper materials. In that view it must be branched out into several particulars. And I must observe, in the first place, that to write with elegance, it is not sufficient to express barely the conjunction or disjunction of the members of the thought. It is a beauty to find a similar conjunction or disjunction in the words. This may be illustrated by a familiar example. When we have occasion to mention the intimate connection that the soul has with the body, the expression ought to be _the soul and body_; because the particle _the_, relative to both, makes a connection in the expression, which resembles in some degree the connection in the thought. But when the soul is distinguished from the body, it is better to say _the soul and the body_, because the disjunction in the words resembles the disjunction in the thought. In the following examples the connection in the thought is happily imitated in the expression.

Constituit agmen; et expedire tela animosque, equitibus jussis,
_&c._

_Livy, l. 38. § 25._

Again:

Quum ex paucis quotidie aliqui corum caderent aut vulnerarentur, et
qui superarent, fessi et corporibus et animis essent, _&c._

_Livy, l. 38. § 29._

Post acer Mnestheus adducto constitit arcu,
Alta petens, pariterque oculos telumque tetendit.
_Æneid, l. v. 507._

The following passage of Tacitus appears to me not so happy. It approaches to wit by connecting in the foregoing manner things but slightly related, which is not altogether suitable to the dignity or gravity of history.

Germania omnis a Galliis, Rhætiisque, et Pannoniis, Rheno et
Danubio fluminibus; a Sarmatis Dacisque, mutuo metu aut montibus
separatur.

_De moribus Germanorum._

I am more doubtful about this other instance:

---- The fiend look’d up, and knew
His mounted scale aloft; nor more, but fled
Murm’ring, and with him fled the shades of night.
_Paradise Lost, B. 4. at the end._

I shall add some other examples where the opposition in the thought is imitated in the words; an imitation that is distinguished by the name of _antithesis_.

* * * * *

Speaking of Coriolanus soliciting the people to be made consul:

With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds.
_Coriolanus._

Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves; than that
Cæsar were dead, to live all free men?

_Julius Cæsar._

He hath cool’d my friends and heated mine enemies.

_Shakespear._

Why, if two gods should play some _heav’nly_ match,
And on the wager lay two _earthly_ women,
And Portia one, there must be something else
Pawn’d with the other; for the poor rude world
Hath not her fellow.
_Merchant of Venice, act 3. sc. 6._

This rule may be extended to govern the construction of sentences or periods. A sentence or period in language ought to express one entire thought or mental proposition; and different thoughts ought to be separated in the expression by placing them in different sentences or periods. It is therefore offending against neatness, to crowd into one period entire thoughts which require more than one; for this is conjoining in language things that are separated in reality; and consequently rejecting that uniformity which ought to be preserved betwixt thought and expression. Of errors against this rule take the following examples.

* * * * *

Cæsar, describing the Suevi:

Atque in eam se consuetudinem adduxerunt, ut locis frigidissimis,
neque vestitus, præter pelles, habeant quidquam, quarum, propter
exiguitatem, magna est corporis pars operta, et laventur in
fluminibus.

_Commentaria, l. 4. prin._

Burnet, in the history of his own times, giving Lord Sunderland’s character, says,

His own notions were always good; but he was a man of great
expence.

I have seen a woman’s face break out in heats, as she has been
talking against a great lord, whom she had never seen in her life;
and indeed never knew a party-woman that kept her beauty for a
twelvemonth.

_Spectator_, Nº 57.

Lord Bolingbroke, speaking of Strada:

I single him out among the moderns, because he had the foolish
presumption to censure Tacitus, and to write history himself: and
your Lordship will forgive this short excursion in honour of a
favourite author.

_Letters on history, vol. 1. let. 5._

It seems to me, that in order to maintain the moral system of the
world at a certain point, far below that of ideal perfection, (for
we are made capable of conceiving what we are incapable of
attaining), but however sufficient upon the whole to constitute a
state easy and happy, or at the worst tolerable: I say, it seems to
me, that the author of nature has thought fit to mingle from time
to time, among the societies of men, a few, and but a few, of those
on whom he is graciously pleased to bestow a larger proportion of
the ethereal spirit than is given in the ordinary course of his
providence to the sons of men.

_Bolingbroke, on the spirit of patriotism, let. 1._

To crowd into a single member of a period, different subjects, is still worse than to crowd them into one period.

---- Trojam, genitore Adamasto
Paupere (mansissetque utinam fortuna) profectus.
_Æneid. iii. 614._

Where two things are so connected as to require but a copulative, it is pleasant to find a resemblance in the members of the period, were it even so slight as where both begin with the same letter:

The peacock, in all his pride, does not display half the colour
that appears in the garments of a British lady, when she is either
dressed for a ball or a birth-day.

_Spectator_, Nº 265.

Had not my dog of a steward run away as he did, without making up
his accounts, I had still been immersed in sin and sea-coal.

_Ibid._ Nº. 530.

My life’s companion, and my bosom-friend,
One faith, one fame, one fate shall both attend.
_Dryden, Translation of Æneid._

There is obviously a sensible defect in neatness when uniformity is in this case totally neglected[84]; witness the following example, where the construction of two members connected by a copulative is unnecessarily varied.

For it is confidently reported, that two young gentlemen of real
hopes, bright wit, and profound judgment, who upon a thorough
examination of causes and effects, and by the mere force of natural
abilities, without the least tincture of learning, have made a
discovery that there was no God, and _generously communicating_
their thoughts for the good of the public, were some time ago, by
an unparallelled severity, and upon I know not what obsolete law,
broke for blasphemy[85]. [Better thus]: Having made a discovery
that there was no God, and having generously communicated their
thoughts for the good of the public, were some time ago, _&c._

He had been guilty of a fault, for which his master would have put
him to death, had he not found an opportunity to escape out of his
hands, and _fled_ into the deserts of Numidia.

_Guardian_, Nº 139.

If all the ends of the revolution are already obtained, it is not
only impertinent to argue for obtaining any of them, but _factious
designs might be imputed_, and the name of incendiary be applied
with some colour, perhaps, to any one who should persist in
pressing this point.

_Dissertation upon parties, Dedication._

It is even unpleasant to find a negative and affirmative proposition connected by a copulative.

Nec excitatur classico miles truci,
Nec horret iratum mare;
Forumque vitat, et superba civium
Potentiorum limina.
_Horace, Epod. 2. l. 5._

If it appear not plain, and prove untrue,
Deadly divorce step between me and you.
_Shakespear._

An artificial connection among the words, is undoubtedly a beauty when it represents any peculiar connection among the constituent parts of the thought; but where there is no such connection, it is a positive deformity, because it makes a discordance betwixt the thought and expression. For the same reason, we ought also to avoid every artificial opposition of words where there is none in the thought. This last, termed _verbal antithesis_, is studied by writers of no taste; and is relished by readers of the same stamp, because of a certain degree of liveliness in it. They do not consider how incongruous it is, in a grave composition, to cheat the reader, and to make him expect a contrast in the thought, which upon examination is not found there.

A light wife doth make a heavy husband.
_Merchant of Venice._

Here is a studied opposition in the words, not only without any opposition in the sense, but even where there is a very intimate connection, that of cause and effect; for it is the levity of the wife that vexes the husband.

---- Will maintain
Upon his bad life to make all this good.
_King Richard II. act. 1. sc. 2._

_Lucetta._ What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?

_Julia._ If thou respect them, best to take them up.

_Lucetta._ Nay, I was taken up for laying them down.

_Two Gentlemen of Verona, act 1. sc. 3._

To conjoin by a copulative, members that signify things opposed in the thought, is an error too gross to be commonly practised. And yet writers are guilty of this fault in some degree, when they conjoin by a copulative things transacted at different periods of time. Hence a want of neatness in the following expression.

The nobility too, whom the King had no means of retaining by
suitable offices and preferments, had been seized with the general
discontent, and unwarily threw themselves into the scale, which
began already too much to preponderate.

_History of G. Britain, vol. 1. p. 250._

In periods of this kind, it appears more neat to express the past time by the participle passive, thus:

The nobility having been seized with the general discontent,
unwarily threw themselves, _&c._ [or], The nobility who had been
seized, _&c._ unwarily threw themselves, _&c._

So much upon conjunction and disjunction in general. I proceed to apply the rule to comparisons in particular. Where a resemblance betwixt two objects is described, the writer ought to study a resemblance betwixt the two members that express these objects. For it makes the resemblance the more entire to find it extended even to the words. To illustrate this rule, I shall give various examples of deviations from it. I begin with the words that express the resemblance.

I have observed of late, the style of some great _ministers_ very
much to exceed that of any other _productions_.

_Letter to the Lord High Treasurer. Swift._

This, instead of studying the resemblance of words in a period that expresses a comparison, is going out of one’s road to avoid it. Instead of _productions_ which resemble not ministers great or small, the proper word is _writers_ or _authors_.

If men of eminence are exposed to censure on the one hand, they are
as much liable to flattery on the other. If they receive reproaches
which are not due to them, they likewise receive praises which they
do not deserve.

_Spectator._

Here the subject plainly demands uniformity in expression instead of variety; and therefore it is submitted whether the period would not do better in the following manner:

If men of eminence be exposed to censure on the one hand, they are
as much exposed to flattery on the other. If they receive
reproaches which are not due, they likewise receive praises which
are not due.

I cannot but fancy, however, that this imitation, which passes so
currently with _other judgements_, must at some time or other have
stuck a little with your _Lordship_[86]. [Better thus:] I cannot
but fancy, however, that this imitation, which passes so currently
with others, must at some time or other have stuck a little with
your Lordship.

* * * * *

A glutton or mere sensualist is as ridiculous as the other two
characters.

_Shaftesbury, vol. 1. p. 129._

They wisely prefer _the generous efforts of good-will and
affection_, to the reluctant compliances _of such as_ obey by
force.

_Remarks on the history of England. Letter 5. Bolingbroke._

Titus Livius, concerning the people of Enna demanding the keys from the Roman garrison, makes the governor say,

Quas simul tradiderimus, Carthaginiensium extemplo Enna erit,
fœdiusque hic trucidabimir, quam Murgantiæ præsidium interfectum
est.

_L. 24. § 38._

Quintus Curtius, speaking of Porus mounted on an elephant, and leading his army to battle:

Magnitudini Pori adjicere videbatur bellua qua vehebatur, tantum
inter cæteras eminens, quanto aliis ipse præstabat.

_L. 8. cap. 14._

It is a still greater deviation from congruity, to affect not only variety in the words, but also in the construction. Describing Thermopylæ, Titus Livius says,

Id jugum, sicut Apennini dorso Italia dividitur, ita mediam Græciam
deremit.

_L. 36. § 15._

Speaking of Shakespear:

There may remain a suspicion that we over-rate the greatness of his
genius; in the same manner as bodies appear more gigantic on
account of their being disproportioned and mishapen.

_History of G. Britain, vol. 1. p. 138._

This is studying variety in a period where the beauty lies in uniformity. Better thus:

There may remain a suspicion that we over-rate the greatness of his
genius, in the same manner as we over-rate the greatness of bodies
which are disproportioned and mishapen.

Next as to the length of the members that signify the resembling objects. To produce a resemblance betwixt such members, they ought not only to be constructed in the same manner, but as nearly as possible be equal in length. By neglecting this circumstance, the following example is defective in neatness.

As the performance of all other religious duties will not avail in
the sight of God, _without charity_, so neither will the discharge
of all other ministerial duties avail in the sight of men _without
a faithful discharge of this principal duty_.

_Dissertation upon parties, dedication._

In the following passage all the errors are accumulated that a period expressing a resemblance can well admit:

Ministers are answerable for every thing done to the prejudice of
the constitution, in the same proportion as the preservation of the
constitution in its purity and vigour, or the perverting and
weakening it, are of greater consequence to the nation, than any
other instances of good or bad government.

_Dissertation upon parties, dedication._

The same rule obtains in a comparison where things are opposed to each other. Objects contrasted, not less than what are similar, require a resemblance in the members of the period that express them. The reason is, that contrast has no effect upon the mind, except where the things compared have a resemblance in their capital parts[87]. Therefore, in opposing two circumstances to each other, it remarkably heightens the contrast, to make as entire as possible the resemblance betwixt the other parts, and in particular betwixt the members expressing the two circumstances contrasted. As things are often best illustrated by their contraries, I shall also give examples of deviations from the rule in this case.

* * * * *

Addison says,

A friend exaggerates a man’s virtues, an enemy inflames his crimes.

_Spectator_, Nº 399.

Would it not be neater to study uniformity instead of variety? as thus:

A friend exaggerates a man’s virtues, an enemy his crimes.

For here the contrast is only betwixt a friend and an enemy; and betwixt all the other circumstances, including the members of the period, the resemblance ought to be preserved as entire as possible.

* * * * *

Speaking of a lady’s head-dress:

About ten years ago it shot up to a very great height, insomuch
that the female part of our species were much taller than the men.

_Spectator_, Nº 98.

It should be,

Than the male part.