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 PREFACE. 
 
 I HEEE present the Second and concluding Part of my 
 revised and enlarged Khetoric — the Emotional Quali- 
 ties of Style. So far as I know, this is the first 
 attempt at a methodical and exhaustive account of 
 these Quahties. The meagre discussion of them in 
 the original work is now replaced by a more precise 
 classification and a much ampler detail of examples. 
 It may not be amiss, at the very outset, to call the 
 reader's attention to the fundamental, and all but un- 
 conquerable, difficulties that beset this subject ; namely, 
 the vague and indefinable character of the human 
 feelings, — the impossibility of stating their amount 
 with preciseness, and of analyzing their composition in a 
 convincing manner. These difficulties are equally felt 
 by the methodical rhetorician, and by the unmethodical 
 critic, who proceeds upon instinct, and perhaps despises 
 Ehetoric. All alike have to use some kind of emotional 
 terminology ; the names for expressing states of mind, 
 besides being more or less indefinite, must be hable to 
 personal vagaries of interpretation. Only by very wide 
 comparison and illustration can some approach be 
 made to an understood standard, and to exactness in 
 the use of critical diction.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 With a \new to the most advantageous handhiig of 
 the subject, the following is the order of topics : — 
 
 First is taken the Classification of the Emo- 
 tions common to Poetry v^ith the other Fine Arts. 
 Seeing that the capability of discerning shades and 
 varieties of emotion is not an early acquirement, the 
 inference ma}^ justly be drawn, that their rhetorical 
 handling is not suited to very young pupils. The dis- 
 quahfication is equally applicable to the most ordinary 
 literary criticism, which assumes that all these emotions 
 are, in kind and degree, familiarly conceived by those ad- 
 dressed. Possibly more might be done at school towards 
 preparing pupils for this kind of study, by storing their 
 memories with passages deliberately chosen to exemplify 
 various kinds of poetic effect. Such passages might 
 answer the purpose of instilling unconsciously the signi- 
 fication of emotional terms. Still, whatever be the 
 experience that the pupils bring wath them, there is an 
 obvious advantage in distributing it under the heads of 
 a classification adapted to the necessities of the subject. 
 
 The second topic is Aids to Emotional Qualities 
 in general. This is a survey of the most important 
 conditions of a work of Art, under every form that 
 it may assume. The conditions are Kepresentative 
 Force, Concreteness and Objectivity, Personification, 
 Harmony, Ideality, Novelty and Variety, Plot, Eefine- 
 ment. 
 
 Thirdly, the Qualities themselves. The designa- 
 tions — Strength or Sublimity, Beauty, Feeling or 
 Pathos, Humour, Wit, Melody — have always entered 
 into the enumeration of Artistic or Poetic qualities. 
 With the exception of melody. Feeling is perhaps the 
 least ambiguous of all. Most of the others are liable
 
 PKEFACE. VU 
 
 to serious complications, which stand in the way of 
 anything hke scientific precision in the language of 
 criticism. 
 
 1. The distinguishing quality of Strength, as Subli- 
 mity, Power, Grandeur, would seem, at first sight, to 
 be eminently definable and characteristic. Yet an 
 examination in detail discloses this fact, namely, that 
 the quality rarely appears without the presence of more 
 specific emotions. In the pure form of manifested 
 power, irrespective of the mode of its employment, its 
 occurrence is exceptional, and the impressions made by 
 it inconsiderable. 
 
 At this point, we find ourselves brought face to face 
 with the contrasting couple of generic emotions, — on 
 the one hand, Love, Tender Feehng, Sociability; on the 
 other. Irascibility, Malevolence, Antipathy, — whose in- 
 fluence in Art, as in actual life, is so commanding, that 
 prominence must be given to them above all other 
 kinds of human feehng, pleasurable or painful. To 
 present a suitable object to either of these, is to make 
 certain of a warm response in almost every bosom. 
 To exclude them wholly from a work of Art, though 
 not impossible, is difficult and rarely attempted. In 
 their absence, what might seem the happiest com- 
 binations are comparatively sterile. Almost the only 
 thing that could atone for the deficiency would be some 
 signal triumph of Melody. 
 
 As regards Tender Feeling, under all its various 
 aspects, the course is clear. In it we are provided 
 with one unmistakable division of the subject. The 
 case is different with the Irascible or Mahgn Emotion. 
 For reasons that can be justified only by the result, it 
 is coupled with Strength— the first of the Qualities to
 
 Vlll PEEFACE. 
 
 be taken up. It is not exhausted there, but reappears 
 in a modified form, under vituperative style — a later 
 group, in which are included the Ludicrous and 
 Humour. 
 
 I am fully conscious of the intense repugnance to 
 be encountered in referring so much of the charm of 
 literary works to the pleasure of malevolence. How- 
 ever readily this pleasure may be admitted as one of 
 the incidents of human corruption, there is a tendency 
 to deny its existence when it is expressed in unfamiliar 
 phraseology. Nevertheless, I have done my utmost to 
 deal fairly with the facts as I find them. In order to 
 develop the literary bearings of Strength, the quality 
 is set foii;h as having three forms — Maleficent, Benefi- 
 cent, and Neutral, — every one of which admits of 
 copious exemplification. 
 
 2. This exhausts the first comprehensive Emotional 
 Quality. The second, Feeling, needs and admits a 
 still greater expansion. Its numerous varieties — Love 
 (Erotic and Parental), Friendship, Patriotism, Com- 
 passion in general, Eeligion, Personified Feeling, Sorrow 
 or Pathos — have to be surveyed and exemplified in full 
 detail. 
 
 3. Next comes the group of Qualities centering in 
 the Ludicrous. To be complete, they are extended 
 in sweep so as to comprise Vituperation, Ridicule 
 and Humour. This is the second reference to the 
 Malevolent side of our nature, and involves a certain 
 amount of speculative controversy, as well as practical 
 interest. 
 
 4. Wit is sufficiently distinctive to need a separate 
 handling ; while, owing to the extent and intimacy of 
 its concurrence with the preceding group of qualities,
 
 PEEFACB. IX 
 
 its illustration serves to provide additional examples 
 of these. 
 
 5. Melody is a potent factor in prose, and still more 
 in poetry. Some of its laws are remarkably simple, and 
 easy in their application : such as the proper succession 
 of the letters in v^ords, and of words in clauses, having 
 reference to ease of pronunciation and variety of sound. 
 The Harmony of Sound and Sense is less definite, al- 
 though to some extent governed by rules, and amenable 
 to the cultivated ear. Most difficult of all is the theory 
 of Metres. When we pass beyond their analysis into 
 technical constituents, and enquire into the laws of 
 their adaptation and effect, we enter on a region where 
 scientific principles soon come to a standstill. The 
 topic needs a special monograph, with profuse citations 
 from all the great exemplars of the metrical art. 
 
 6. The enumeration now given covers the largest por- 
 tion of the field of poetic art, or emotional literature, 
 and carries with it nearly every rhetorical prescription 
 of special value. Yet there still remains a region of 
 effects not fully accounted for. Whatever is comprised 
 in the versatile word Beauty has been overtaken, 
 partly under Aids to Qualities, and partly under Feeling. 
 But it deserves to be noted that the Senses, by them- 
 selves, yield a number of ideal constructions, highly 
 stimulating, although inferior in that respect to the 
 influence of the chief emotions. Not often is this 
 class of effects sought in purity ; yet they may become 
 the prominent members of combinations with the 
 others. The Hilarious and the Healthy, as manifesta- 
 tions of human feeling, have a character and a law to 
 themselves, and have been represented in the poetry 
 of all ages. Again, Utility can hardly be divorced
 
 X PEEFACB. 
 
 from the special emotions, but, as a collective statement 
 of all that is valuable in the eyes of mankind, it stands 
 to a certain degree remote from any one interest, and 
 is not governed by the special peculiarities of the 
 primary modes of feeling. More peculiar still is the 
 effect called Imitation, which readily lends itself to 
 furthering the special qualities, but has j^et an in- 
 dependent charm, which can be evoked with little 
 or no reference to anything else. The most extensive 
 literary developments of Imitative art occur in the 
 realistic variety of Prose Fiction, and are too bulky to 
 be produced even in the smallest specimens that would 
 be of service. All that can be attempted is a bare 
 analysis of the quality, with a very general reference to 
 examples. 
 
 I do not here enter on a defence of the utility of 
 Bhetoric in general, though many persons are still 
 disposed to question it. Since the art first took form 
 in Greece, it has seldom been neglected by writers 
 aiming at superior excellence of style. In order to 
 vanquish the difficulties of the highest composition, it 
 is necessary to attack them on every side. Milton 
 refers, with evident familiarity and approbation, to six 
 of the remaining works of Greek Rhetoric. When 
 Shelley, in describing his poetical education, names as 
 one of his studies the ' metaphysical' writers, we may 
 presume that he would take along with these, if not 
 include under them, the modern expounders of Ehe- 
 torical theory and practice. 
 
 The direct bearing of the Rhetorical art is, of 
 course, not Invention, but Correctness; in other words, 
 polish, elegance, or refinement. It deals with curable
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 defects and faults, and with such merits as can be secured 
 by method. It aids, without superseding, the intuitive 
 perception of what is excellent in a literary performance. 
 There is not wanting, however, a possibility of 
 rendering assistance to invention proper ; somewhat 
 similar to the indirect contribution of Logic to the Art 
 of Discovery. All right criticism, in helping to reject 
 the bad, urges to renewed search for the good. Nor 
 is this all. By taking a broad and systematic view of 
 the possibilities of style, Khetoric prevents the available 
 means of effect from being overlooked, and draws atten- 
 tion to still unoccupied corners in the literary field. 
 
 Next to the minute and methodical treatment of 
 the Emotional Qualities, the chief peculiarity of the 
 present work is the line-by-line method of examining 
 passages with a view to assigning merits and defects. 
 This, however, is not a new thing in literary criticism. 
 It is occasionally practised by all rhetorical teachers ; 
 being found in Aristotle and in Longinus. Ben 
 Jonson, in his celebrated eulogy of Shakespeare, wishes 
 he had " blotted a thousand " lines. How thankful 
 should we be if he had quoted a number of these ! 
 It was Samuel Johnson's sturdy overhauling of English 
 Writers, in the Lives of the Poets, that first made the 
 world familiar with the lessons of minute criticism. 
 In his Dryden and Pope, there is a hne-by-hne com- 
 mentary of many pages. Similar criticisms occur under 
 Denham, Waller, Addison, Shenstone, Young and Gray. 
 The controversy between Coleridge and Wordsworth, on 
 the diction of poetry, led incidentally to many valuable 
 applications of the line-by-line and word-by- word ana- 
 lysis. Leigh Hunt, in his admirable critical selec-
 
 XU PREFACE. 
 
 tions, Wit and Humour and Imagination and Fancy, 
 abounds in the same usage. Pattison's Notes on Pope 
 are models of instructive criticism. All our great critics 
 provide occasional snatches of this minute style. 
 
 Por pupils, the method would seem indispensable, in 
 order both to arrest attention and to provide an 
 exercise for judgment. Of course a v^ork of art is a 
 whole, and one chief test of any particular passage is 
 its fitness relative to the general design. Still, the 
 merits of an entire composition are the cumulated 
 merits of the successive lines and sentences. A whole 
 cannot be criticised without reference to its component 
 parts. 
 
 It is still an open question, how far criticism can be 
 made a matter of science, and how far it must continue 
 to depend on unreasoning instinct. That there will 
 always be an inexplicable residuum of literary effects 
 does not invalidate the worth of whatever amount of 
 explanation is attained or attainable. This will have 
 to be judged on its own account, and with reference to 
 the actual help that it affords to the literary student. 
 
 It is inevitable that, in a work containing some 
 hundreds of critical decisions on the merits of the 
 greatest authors that the world has seen, many of these 
 decisions will be charged with blundering, presumption, 
 and temerity. There is but one reply to the charge. 
 The success of such an undertaking does not depend 
 upon its immaculate literary opinions ; its sole con- 
 cern is with the teacher's greatest difficulty, to bring 
 into play the judgment of his pupils. Many of John- 
 son's deliverances, on the merits of Dryden, Pope, and 
 tlie rest, were hasty, insufficient and prejudiced; but 
 they are scarcely less useful on that account, for stimu-
 
 PREFACE. XIU 
 
 lating the reader's judgment by exposing alternative 
 opinions for comparison. Coleridge is loud in praise 
 of the permanent good that he received from his master 
 Bowyer ; yet the examples of Bowyer's teaching prove 
 that he must have been frequently extravagant and 
 wrong-headed in his denunciation of the faults of poets. 
 I cannot affirm that the literary judgments passed 
 upon exemplary passages are, on every occasion, the 
 clear and unbiassed application of some guiding maxim. 
 There must, no doubt, be cases where feeling or intuition 
 enters into the judgments expressed. All I can say is, 
 that I should have entirely mistrusted the methods I 
 have followed, if the conclusions had been often at 
 variance with the general consent of the best critical 
 authorities in all ages. 
 
 No one can be more conscious than I am of the 
 limits to a scientific explanation of the emotional effect 
 of any given composition. The merits are often so 
 shadowy, so numerous and conflicting, that their 
 minute analysis fails to give a result. The attempt to 
 sum up the influence of a combination of words, whose 
 separate emotional meanings are vague and incalculable, 
 must often be nugatory and devoid of all puq^ose. 
 Yet we must not forget that the intuitive critic really 
 does all this, without avowing it ; while to reduce the 
 steps to articulate enumeration would not necessarily 
 make a worse decision. Besides, criticism has long 
 attained the point where reasons can be given for a very 
 wide range of literary effects ; and Bhetoric is but the 
 arranging and methodizing of these reasons. 
 
 Still more stringent are the limitations to the 
 nature of the analyses that can with profit be sub-
 
 XIV PKEFACE. 
 
 mitted to pupils entering upon the work of criticism. 
 To be too elaborate or nice is to elude their powers of 
 judging, and to incur the prevailing vice of literary 
 teaching — memory cram. It is only a person of con- 
 siderable reading that can decide, for example, as to the 
 originality of a given poetical combination ; such a 
 matter must be pronounced upon ex cathedra. Exercises 
 have to be chosen and adapted to the state of advance- 
 ment and powers of the pupils ; so that their discrimi- 
 nation may be brought to a genuine test. Although it 
 is desirable to meet all the points of difficulty in any 
 given passage, it does not follow that they are all at 
 the level of a given stage of teaching. Some may be 
 skipped for a time, or explained provisionally. The 
 least useful examples are those where neither merits 
 nor defects are of a pronounced character. Many 
 excellent writers are of this kind. It is difficult to 
 work an exegetical commentary on Landor ; while 
 comparatively easy on De Quincey and Macaulay. 
 
 To such as take umbrage at the operation of anato- 
 mizing (as it is called) the finest products of poetic 
 genius, I can offer no apology that will be deemed 
 sufficient. But it ought to be remembered, that a work 
 of genius may be sufficiently impressive and interesting, 
 grand or beautiful, as a whole, and yet contain here and 
 there minute defects such as the ordinary writer should 
 be warned against. No writer is faultless ; and the 
 exhibition of faults may be so conducted as to reflect a 
 stronger light upon the merits. 
 
 Although it is hoped that the handling thus be- 
 stowed on the Emotional Qualities may not be alto- 
 gether devoid of suggestiveness to advanced English
 
 PEEFACE, XV 
 
 scholars, there is necessarily much that to them will 
 appear superfluous and elementary. This is no dis- 
 advantage, but the contrary, to the younger students, 
 provided only the exposition is such as to impart in a 
 lucid and compendious form the terminology and the 
 regulating maxims of the qualities referred to. 
 
 The method of criticism herein sketched involves, 
 as part of its essence, the separation of the subject of 
 a composition and its treatment. It is the province of 
 Bhetoric to deal primarily with the form alone. It 
 thereby isolates the matter, which it views only with 
 reference to its capability of receiving form. 
 
 The utmost ingenuity in packing a mere Text-book 
 must leave a great deal to be done over so wide a 
 field, even in the enunciation of generalities. The two 
 volumes that now represent the original work have not 
 fully overtaken all the matters therein sketched. Many 
 important niceties of style adverted to under the Kinds 
 of Composition might still be expanded into a Third 
 Part. This, however, my years, and the demands 
 upon me in another walk, forbid my contemplating. 
 
 Many topics manifestly included in a science of 
 Bhetoric are of a kind to demand special monographs 
 for doing them justice. Metre has been already men- 
 tioned. Epic, Dramatic and Lyric Poetry, when entire 
 compositions are taken into view, need an expanded 
 and separate treatment, although the principles in- 
 volved are no other than the present work undertakes 
 to set forth. The Drama, for example, requires a work 
 to itself, based on a wide survey of the actual examples. 
 Prose Fiction, in like manner, is a vast subject, even 
 standing alone. The citation of illustrative passages.
 
 XVI PREFACE. 
 
 indispensable to the elucidation of these themes, makes 
 their treatment necessarily voluminous. Nevertheless, 
 as regards the best order of study for pupils in Litera- 
 ture, all these subjects are subsequent to the handling 
 of Khetoric, as exemplified in the v^ork now submitted 
 to the public. 
 
 Abebdeen, May, 18S8,
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Designations of Emotional Qualities : Exam()les of tlie Critical 
 
 Vocabulary, ... ... ... ... ... 1 
 
 ART EMOTIONS CLASSIFIED. 
 
 1. The Feelings of the human mind are characterized by Pleasure, 
 
 Pain or Neutrality, ... ... ... ... ... .. 3 
 
 2. Pleasures and Pains divided under Sensations and Emotions. 
 
 The artistic senses are Sight and Hearing, ... ... ib. 
 
 3. Objects of Sight enter into Poetry by verbal suggestion, ... 4 
 
 4. The Emotions have numerous artistic bearings, ... ... ... ib. 
 
 5. The Art Emotions have reference to still deeper sources of 
 
 emotion, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 5 
 
 6. Pre-eminence given to the contrasting couple — Love and 
 
 Malevolence, ib. 
 
 7. Place of the Emotion of Fear, ib. 
 
 8. Literary Art embraces various feelings coming under the com- 
 
 prehensive term Egotism, 6 
 
 9. Importance attached to Sympathy in the artistic point of view, 7 
 
 10. Pleasure of discovering Unity in Multitude, ... ... ... 8 
 
 11. Interest of Plot allied with our Activity, ... ... ... ib. 
 
 12. Eelation of the Useful and the Beautiful, ... ... ... ib. 
 
 13. Admission of agreeable experiences generally when purged of 
 
 grossness, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 9 
 
 14. Special Pleasure of Imitation, ib. 
 
 15. Interest arising from Associations, ib. 
 
 AIDS TO EMOTIONAL QUALITIES. 
 
 Common end — the evoking of Emotion of the pleasurable kind. 
 
 Aids and precautions applicable throughout, 11
 
 XVIll TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 EEPEE SENT ATI VE VOCABULAEY. 
 
 1. Comprehensive requirement of Rephesentative Force in the 
 
 Language. Names classified with this view, ... ... 11 
 
 2. Language helped out by extraneous circumstances : — (1) Causes 
 
 or Occasions of Feeling ; (2) Conduct that follows ; (3) 
 effect on Belief; (i) influence on tlie Thoughts; (5) sub- 
 mergence of Opposing States ; (6) Comparisons. ... 13 
 
 3. Bearings of Suggestiveness, 15 
 
 4. Existence of a select Poetic Diction, ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 CONCEETENESS AND OBJECTIVITY. 
 
 1. Importance attached to Concretexess, ... ... 17 
 
 2. Superiority of Objective phraseology, ... ... ib. 
 
 3. Treatment for promoting Concreteness and Objectivity, ... 18 
 
 4. Requisite of Accumulation and Combination of ideas and image.s, 19 
 
 PEESONIFICATION. 
 
 1. Meaning and Scope of Personification, 21 
 
 2. First condition — the stimulus of a leading emotion, 23 
 
 3. Second — a sufficient amount of resemblance, ... .. ... 25 
 
 4. Third — a measured comparison with human might, ... ... ib. 
 
 5. Fourth — succession to a climax, ... ... ... ... ... 26 
 
 6. Two degrees of Personification. L Ascription of feelings, will 
 
 and distinction of gender, ... ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 7. Personifying of Abstractions, ... ... ... ... ... 27 
 
 8. n. Attributing a quality of life, ... 29 
 
 HAEMONY. 
 
 1. The most imperative and all-pervading condition of a work of 
 
 Fine Art, 30 
 
 2. Compatible and incompatible Emotions. Adjustment of nice 
 
 emotional meaning.s,... ... ... ... ... ... 31 
 
 3. Painful and repugnant subjects either alleviated or aggravated 
 
 by adjustment of harmonies, ... ... ... ... ... 33 
 
 4. Harmony comprehends Unity in multitude, ... ... ... 34 
 
 Examples of Harmony and Discord. 
 
 Example from Cok-ridge ; Milton's Hymn on the Nativity, 
 and Lj'cidas ; Shakespeare's dramatic backgiound of 
 nature in harmony with his incidents ; the Greek poets ; 
 Tennyson ; Gray, ... ... 35
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 XIX 
 
 I'AGE 
 
 IDEALITY. 
 
 1. Meaning and purpose of Ideality. Leading examples of its 
 
 employment, ... ... ... ... ... .■■ ... 36 
 
 2. Two forms : — (1) actual experience improved upon ; (2) delinea- 
 
 tions out of all respect to actuality, ... ... ... 38 
 
 3. Conditions requisite : — I. The emotions appealed to must be 
 
 powerful ; II. The manner of appeal must be adequate,... 39 
 
 4. Limitations imposed by the consideration of Truth, 40 
 
 5. Influence of distance, obscurity and mystery, ... ... ... 41 
 
 6. Abnegnation of the Ideal in favour of the Realistic in Art. 
 
 Imitation, ... ... ... ... ... .._. ... 42 
 
 NOVELTY. 
 
 1. Novelty embraces Variety and Proportional presentation. 
 
 The highest form is Originality, 43 
 
 2. Qualified by the other conditions of style, ... ib. 
 
 3. Variety second to absolute originality, ib. 
 
 4. Variety in Melody and Metre, ... ... 44 
 
 5. Rhetorical varying of Words, ... ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 6. Varying the length and structure of Sentences, ... ... ... 45 
 
 7 . Alternation in the use of Figures ib. 
 
 8. Varying the Interest as a AVhole, ib. 
 
 ACTION AND PLOT. 
 
 1. Feeling of s?isjoe«sc, called the interest of Plot, . . 46 
 
 2. Leading conditions of its effectiveness, ... ib. 
 
 EEFINEMENT. 
 
 1. Crossness of animal passions converted into Refined Pleasure, 47 
 
 2. Review of methods already adduced, 48 
 
 3. Additional arts, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 4. Fear operative as pleasure by reaction, ... ... ... ... 49 
 
 CHAEACTEKS. 
 
 1. Interest of Chaeacter, ... 50 
 
 2. Consistency of development, ib. 
 
 3. Choice of Characters very wide, but still conditional, ib, 
 
 SUBJECTS. 
 
 In Art compositions, something depends on the Subject. 
 
 There are both aiding and impeding subjects 52
 
 XX TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PACK 
 
 NATURE AS A SUBJECT. 
 Successive forms and stages of Nature interest, 53 
 
 STEENGTH. 
 
 Strength as nearly synonymous with Sublimity. Eesolved 
 into the manifestation of superior might. Order of 
 treatment, 55 
 
 SUBJECTS OF STEENGTH. 
 
 1. Divided into Personal and Impersonal, 56 
 
 PEESONAL PHYSICAL STEENGTH. 
 
 2. The interest in Persons is in part Physical. This lai'gely 
 
 evoked in poetic art, .. . ih. 
 
 MOEAL STEENGTH. 
 
 3. Strength as shown in the Feelings and the Will. Meaning of 
 
 Passion, 58 
 
 INTELLECTUAL STEENGTH. 
 
 4. Various forms of Intellectual superiority. Eulogies of men of 
 
 genius. Pope's ' Temple of Fame,' 60 
 
 INTELLECTUAL AND MOEAL STEENGTH COMBINED. 
 
 5. Great Leaders. Ulysses. Mythical Heroes. Collective Strength 
 
 makes the strength of Kings, Generals and Heads of 
 Parties, CI 
 
 IMPEESONAL STEENGTH. 
 
 6. The Inanimate world furnishes objects of Sublimit}', 62 
 
 CONSTITUENTS OF STEENGTH. 
 
 1. Strength a Complex quality. It varies according to its ex- 
 
 traneous emotional accompaniments, 63 
 
 MALEFICENT STEENGTH. 
 
 2. The Infliction of Suffering a source of pleasure, under the check 
 
 of sympathy. Special illustrative case — the interest in 
 
 "War or Conflict 64
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. XXI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 BENEFICENT STRENGTH. 
 
 3. Power exercised for Beneficent ends. Poetical handling 
 
 exemplified, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 65 
 
 NEUTRAL STRENGTH. 
 
 4. Power viewed apart from its maleficent and beneficent results. 
 
 Cases where this is realized, 68 
 
 VOCABULAEY OF STEENGTH. 
 
 Language contributes to Strength (1) by representing the 
 
 objects, (2) by emotional associations, 70 
 
 REVIEW OF THE VOCABULARY OF STRENGTH. 
 
 I. — Names of Subjects or Classes. 
 
 Exemplification of Names of Subjects, as divided into Physical, 
 
 Moral, Intellectual, Collective, 71 
 
 11. — Names of Constituents. 
 
 MALEFICENT STRENGTH. 
 Pure Maleficence. Righteous Indignation. Destructive Energy. 
 
 War and Conflict. Terror-inspiring, 72 
 
 BENEFICENT STRENGTH. 
 
 Names for the powers of Creation, Pieservation, Sustentation 
 
 &c., 73 
 
 NEUTRAL STRENGTH. 
 
 Power with Possibility : — Inanimate World ; Artificial Struc- 
 tures. Abstract Names. Negative and Numerical Names, ih. 
 
 CONDITIONS OF STEENGTH. 
 
 ?r, 
 
 1. Conditions common to Strength in all its forms, 
 
 2. Faults and failures to be guarded against, 76 
 
 STEENGTH EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 Order of Constituents to be followed, in preference to Classes, 77 
 MALEFICENT STRENGTH. 
 
 Malignity Pure and Simple. 
 
 In all Literature, a place allowed to the interest of Malignity, 
 
 more or less disguised. Pretext of Retribution, ih.
 
 XXll TABLE or CONTENTS. 
 
 PAfiR 
 
 Homer. Greek Trngedy and Comedy, 78 
 
 Illustration from the glorification of the Principle of Evil : — 
 
 Paradise Lost ; Dante's 7?i/crwo ; Goethe's i^aMs<, ... 79 
 
 The Successful Usurper : — Tamburlaine, ... ... ... ... 82 
 
 Shakespeare's Tragedies, ... ... ... ... ... ... 84 
 
 Strength in Combat. 
 
 The Artistic handling of a Combat supposes (1) the conditions 
 
 of Maleficent Strength, and (2) tire laws that regulate a 
 
 Plot, ib. 
 
 Cases of Combat suited to impart interest. The single combat. 
 
 Combats in the Iliad, ... ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 Example's in the Odyssey. Virgil's management. Modern 
 
 chivalry: — Spenser. Shakespeare. Milton. Gray, ... 86 
 Detailed examination of Scott's combat between Fitz-James and 
 
 Roderick Dhu, 87 
 
 Tennyson. Matthew Arnold. Conflicts of Armies. Tlie 
 
 Tournament. The Chase. Games of strength and skill. 
 
 War of words, ... ... ... ... 90 
 
 BENEFICENT STRENGTH. 
 Beneficence touches on Tender Feeling. Its broader workings 
 point to general utility. Under it fall the eulogies of 
 civilizers and liberators, ... ... ... ... ... S2 
 
 Pope on the primitive Patriarch. Shelley on the power of 
 speech. Carlyle's heroes. Wordsworth's 'Grace Darling*. 
 Cowper's ' Chatham '. Do Quincey on Shakespeare's 
 •work and influence. Chalmers's eulogy on Newton. 
 Goldsmith's 'Preacher,' ib. 
 
 NEUTRAL STRENGTH. 
 
 Sphere of Neutral Strength, the Vast and Majestic, aided 
 
 by the Mysterious and Illimitable, 98 
 
 The special emotions veiled rather than excluded, 99 
 
 Examples of Strcngtli in Character with the nearest approach 
 to jmrity : — Wordsworth's Milton, Chattertoii, and 
 Burns. Hamlet's picture of his father, ... ib. 
 
 Nature presents the chief examples of nearly Neutral Strength, 
 as Sublimity. The Celestial Universe: — Dante, Milton, 
 Pope, Prologue to jPrt?<s<, ... ... ... 100 
 
 Sublimity of Time : — Chalmers on Eternity ; Shelley. His- 
 torical Time in ' Locksley Hall,' 102 
 
 Terrestrial amplitudes, masses and moving powers, 104
 
 TABLE OP CONTENTS. XXIU 
 
 PEOMISCUOUS PASSAGES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Passage from ' Lear ' — Destructive energy, ... 105 
 
 Storm in 'Julius Cwsar'. Comparison witli P)yron's 'Storm in 
 
 the Alps,' — Nature symbolism, ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 Pa.s.sage in Shelley's ' Prometheus UnVjouud,' ... ... ... 107 
 
 Campbell's ' Launch of a ship of war,' .. ... ... ... 108 
 
 The Ocean : — Byron ; Barry Cornwall ; Allan Cunningham ; 
 
 Wilson, 109 
 
 WonLsworth's ' Ode to Duty,'— tlie Moral Sublime, 113 
 
 Byron's 'Loch na Garr,'— viewed in contrast with the poet's 
 
 mature genius, ... 115 
 
 Keats's Hyperion in his palace, ... ... ... ... ... 116 
 
 Sonnet of Wordsworth, — exemplifying Elevation of Thought, 
 
 Objectivity and Concreteness, ... ... ... ... 118 
 
 FEELING. 
 
 Variety of designations for the Amicable side of our nature, ... 119 
 
 SUBJECTS CLASSIFIED. 
 
 THE DOMESTIC GROUP. 
 
 1. Inclusion of the Sexual, Parental, Filial and Fraternal relation- 
 
 ships, ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 FEIENDSHIP. 
 
 2. Attachment between persons not of the same family, ... ... 120 
 
 CO-PATEIOTISM. 
 
 3. Sentiment between members of the same society, — more or less 
 
 complex, ... ih. 
 
 BENEVOLENT INTEREST. 
 
 4. Pity, i)rotectorship, philanthropy. Tender Emotion, assisted 
 
 by Sympathy, ... ... ... ih. 
 
 RELIGION. 
 
 5. The purest type of Religion largely involves Tenderness, ... 121 
 
 TENDERNESS PERSONIFIED. 
 
 6. The Nature Interest gi'ounded on Tenderness, one application 
 
 of what is commonly meant by Beauty, ... ... ... ih.
 
 XXIV TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SOEROW-PATHOS. 
 
 7. Explicable as Pain partly or wholly assuaged by the Tender 
 
 outburst, ... ... ... 121 
 
 CONSTITUENTS OF TENDERNESS. 
 
 1. The Three Instinctive foundations of the Tender Feelings, ... 122 
 
 LOVE OF THE SEXES. 
 
 2. First ingredient — Animal Passion, ib.* 
 
 3. Second ingredient — Physical Attraction,... ... ... ... ib 
 
 4. Third ingredient — Mental Attraction, of which the chief mode 
 
 is Reciprocal liking, ... ... ... ... ... ... 123 
 
 5. Reciprocation a pervading element of the tender relationships. 
 
 Gratitude, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 6. Other forms of excellence calculated to awaken love, 124 
 
 PAEENTAL FEELING. 
 
 7. Typical and primitive form of the instinct, the maternal and 
 
 paternal feelings. The probable origin of pity and jiro- 
 tectorship generally. Contribution to the love of the 
 sexes, ib. 
 
 8. The reciprocal feeling of child to parent has no supporting 
 
 instinct, being a case of Gratitude and habituation, ... 125 
 
 9. Fraternal feeling ecjually devoid of instinctive basis, ... ... 12(5 
 
 10. Friendship, when grounded on personal fascination, may rank 
 
 second to the feeling between the sexes, ib. 
 
 GREGARIOUSNESS. 
 
 11. The general Sociability of mankiiid a distinct source of interest, 
 
 seen in the Synipatliy of Kumbers, ... ... ... ib. 
 
 VOCABULAEY OF FEELING. 
 
 Karnes for Subjects : — Domestic grouji ; Fiiendship ; Co-patriot- 
 i.sm ; Collective Numbers ; Benevolent Interest ; Religion ; 
 Pathos and Sorrow, 127 
 
 Names for Qualities and Constituents : — Pervading Names ; 
 Names more special to the Sexes ; Comjiassion ; Pains 
 awakening Tenderness ; Pleasures allied to the generic 
 feeling ; Beauty ; Virtues inspiring Tenderness ; Religious 
 aspects; Pathos of Time, ... ... 128 
 
 Antipathetic Vocabulary, ... ... 129 
 
 Names for associated objects and circumstances, ... ... ib.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. XXV 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CONDITIONS OF FEELING. 
 
 1. Conditions especially applicable to the Quality of Feeling, ... 130 
 
 2. Conditions farther illustrated by the faults most liable to be 
 
 incurred, 131 
 
 FEELING EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 Exemiilification to follow the order of the Classes or Subjects, 132 
 
 EKOTIC LITEEATUEE. 
 
 General conditions of Tender Feeling moJitied for the class of 
 Erotic com[iositions. (1) Description of the object ; (2) 
 Harmonious surroundings ; (3) Expressed feelings of the 
 
 lover ; (4) Interest of Plot, ib. 
 
 Ancient Erotic Literature (Greek) : — Iliad and Odyssey ; Lyric 
 Poets — Sappho, Anacreon ; Tragedians ; Idyllists ; An- 
 thology — Meleager, ^'O- 
 
 Erotic Poetry (Latin) : — Catullus, TibuUus, Propertius, Ovid, 
 
 Virgil's Love Scenes in the ^HCiW, Horace, ... ... 138 
 
 Famous poem of Musajus — Hero and Leander, 140 
 
 Modern Erotic Literature — Chivalry ; Italian Poets ; Chaucer, 141 
 
 Shakespeare — the garden scene in liomco and Juliet, 142 
 
 Select illustrative examples :— The Ode of Anacreon descriptive 
 of a feminine beauty — Moore's translation compared with 
 
 the original, 145 
 
 Suckling's Bride, 147 
 
 Wordsworth's Lyric — ' She was a Phantom of Delight,' ... 149 
 
 The lover's feelings more expressly set forth — Tennyson's 
 
 ' Gardener's Daughter,' 151 
 
 Painful phase of the love passion exemplified in Pope's ' Epistle 
 
 of Eloisa to Abelard,' 154 
 
 ScotVs Wien in The Lady of the Lake, 155 
 
 Matthew Arnold's poem entitled ' Switzerland,' 156 
 
 Love poetry of Burns, as exemplifying all the known arts of 
 
 erotic delineation, ... ... ... ... ... ••• 157 
 
 Browning's ' Two in the Campagna '. Treatment of unrequited 
 
 love, 160 
 
 George Eliot's ' Hetty Sorrel '. Beauty of a woman's arm — 
 
 Maggie Tulliver, 161 
 
 Conjugal Love : — Milton's Picture of our First Parents, ... 163
 
 SXVl TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PARENTAL FEELING. 
 
 Distinctive characteristics revii'\\ed, ... ... ... ... 163 
 
 Examples : — Parting; of Hector and Aiulromaclie in the Iliad, ^^ 
 
 Homer's similitiules drawn from the parental situation, .. 165 
 Medea of Euriiddes. The child-like personification of Love in 
 
 Cujiid. Dido's making love to JEneas through his boy, .. 166 
 
 Middle Age ti'eatment of the Infancy of Jesus Christ, ib. 
 
 Shakespeare's passing allusions to infancy, ... ... ... 167 
 
 Wordsworth's 'Address to my Infant Daughter Dora'. His 
 
 poem on Michael, ih, 
 
 Tennyson's Cradle Song in the Princess. Parental feeling de- 
 picted in ' The Grandmother '. Tragic embodiment of 
 
 maternal passion in ' Rizpah,' ... ... 169 
 
 Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Marian's Child in Aiirora Leigh, 171 
 
 Campbell's mother and sleeping infant in Pleasures of Hope, ... 172 
 
 Victor Hugo on various aspects of the parental relation, ... 173 
 
 Swinburne's 'Etude Realiste,' 175 
 
 Reciprocal relation of children to parents resembling ordinary 
 
 friendship, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ih. 
 
 Examples : — Cowper on his mother's picture. Matthew Ar- 
 nold's Elegy on his father, 176 
 
 FEIENDSHIP. 
 
 Groundwork of the intense friendships : — (1) Personal fascina- 
 tion ; (2) Companionship, with mutual sympathy and 
 good offices, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 179 
 
 Examples of poetic treatment : — Achilles and Patroclus ; 
 Hercules and H3-las; Plato's Dialogues; Age of Elizabeth ; 
 Milton's 'Lycidas'; Burns; Cowper's 'Mary' ; Gray, ... ih. 
 
 Tender relation of Master and Servant, ... ... 183 
 
 GREGAEIOUSNESS.— PATRIOTISM. 
 
 Collective multitudes affect the mind apart from displays of 
 
 power, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... a. 
 
 Pacific gatherings for pleasure, 184 
 
 Modes of description suited to recall the effect of numbers. 
 Grote on the games at Dulos. Modern ncwsjiaper 
 descriptions; ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ih. 
 
 Patriotic sentiment combines Tender interest with more purely 
 
 egotistic feelings, ... ... ... ... ... ... 185 
 
 Poetry of Patriotism : — Scott's ' Caledonia ' ; Cowper ; Macau- 
 lay's address of Icilius ; Burns's effusions ; Tennyson, ... 186
 
 TABLE OP CONTENTS. XXVH 
 
 PAGE 
 
 COMPASSION.— BENEVOLENCE.— CHIVALRY. 
 
 Tender Regard in the form of Pity for the Helpless or Needy. 
 
 Requisites for stirring the emotion, ... ... ... 188 
 
 Examples: — Milton's 'Sonnet on the Piedmontese' ; Spenser 
 in the Faerie Queene ; Pope's picture of the North 
 American Indian, ... ... ... ... ... ... 180 
 
 Tender and compassionate interest in the Lower Animals, ... 190 
 
 RELIGION. 
 
 1. In Religion, the awakening of Tender Emotion is siibject to 
 
 these two considerations : — (1) It is a purely upward 
 feeling; (2) Its objects are invisible to the eye of sense, 191 
 
 2. Methods of appeal, as governed by these conditions : — I. To 
 
 set forth the Deity as an object of love or affection, ... 1 92 
 Aspect of Divine Power as Majesty, ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 Divine Goodness. Difficulty arising from the prevalence of 
 
 misery. The Incarnation, ... ... ... ... ... 194 
 
 II. To express the feelings of the worshipper, so as to induce a 
 
 sympathetic concurrence : — Addison's Hymn, ... ... 196 
 
 III. To avoid or obviate intellectual doubts and dilficulties, ... 198 
 
 IV. To conform to the laws of emotional harmony : — Keble's 
 
 Hymn on Morning, ... ... ... ... ... ... ih. 
 
 Promiscuous Examples. 
 
 Handling of the Divine attributes in jPa/wo^ise Zos<, ... ... 199 
 
 Pope's ' Universal Prayer,' ... ... ... ... ... ih. 
 
 Addison's version of the 19th P.salm, ... ... ... ... 201 
 
 Passage from Robert Hall setting forth the Divine Nature so 
 
 as to awaken religious emotion, ... ... ... ... 202 
 
 Appeal to the influence of the mysterious. Newman on the 
 
 parental aspect of the Deity, ... 204 
 
 TENDERNESS IN NATURAL OBJECTS. 
 
 Tender feeling for objects of Nature developed by Personifica- 
 tion and Association. Used as accessories and surround- 
 ings in love poetry, ... 206 
 
 Milton's Night Scene in Paradise Lost. Thomson's picture of 
 autumnal decay. Shelley's combination of tenderness 
 with grandeur. Examples from Keats, Wordsworth, 
 Tennyson, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 SORROW.— PATHOS. 
 
 Meaningofrathosinthenarrowsen.se, 208
 
 XXViii TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Eeotic Pathos. 
 
 Calamities incident to the love passion, 209 
 
 Burns and Browning on unrequited afi'ection, ... ... ... ib. 
 
 Desertion : — .^ischylus on Menelaus ; Virgil's Dido ; Mother- 
 well ; Tennyson, ... ... ... ... ih. 
 
 Loss by Death : — Milton on his deceased wife ; Andromache's 
 
 grief for the death of Hector, 211 
 
 Parental Pathos. 
 
 Loss of children the most frequent topic of the poetry of the 
 
 parental relationship, ... ... ... ... ... 212 
 
 Slaughter of the Innocents. Ben Jonson's Odes on his lost 
 children. Recent poets : — D. M. Moir's ' Casa Wappy ' ; 
 Hood's child's deathbed, ib. 
 
 Grief of Children for Parents. 
 
 Pope's Lines to his Mother. Cowper on his 'Mother's Picture '. 
 
 Thackeray's ' Esmond at his mother's grave,' 214 
 
 Sorrow for Friends. 
 
 Tennyson's In Memoriam, 217 
 
 Browning in ' La Saisiaz, '.. . ... ... ... ... ••• 220 
 
 Benevolence as Compassion. 
 
 Compassion for human siilfering generally, 221 
 
 The Lower Animals, ib. 
 
 Patriotic Compassion. 
 
 Wailings over national catastrophes. Pathos of Exile, ... 223 
 
 Death. 
 
 Modes of being reconciled to Death :— Philosophy ; Religion ; 
 
 Stoicism, i^- 
 
 Poetic Figures of the soothing kind, 224 
 
 Extravagance of Keats ; Pope's 'Dying Christian' ; Longfellow 
 
 in ' Evangeline,' 
 
 The Horrible in Excess. 
 
 The ' heart-rending ' in Greek Tragedy ; Southey's ' Mary the 
 Maid of the Inn ' ; Keats's ' Isabella ' ; Tennyson's 
 'Coming of Arthur,' 225 
 
 ib.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. XXIX 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Strength for Pathos. 
 
 Examples from Shakespeare, 226 
 
 PEOMISCUOUS PASSAGES. 
 
 Coleridge's Poem— ' Love'— examined, 227 
 
 Keats's 'Eve of St. Agnes' : its merits and defects 229 
 
 Pathos of Time past : — Horace Smith ; Keats, 232 
 
 Matthew Arnold's Eequicscat, ib. 
 
 VITUPERATION.— THE LUDICROUS. 
 
 New applications of the pleasure of Malignity. Origin of Greek 
 
 Comedy, 233 
 
 VITUPERATION. 
 
 1. An effect separable from the Ludicrous, although in near 
 
 alliance with it. Achilles in the Iliad. Shakespeare's 
 
 'Julius Csesar,' ... ... ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 2. Positive conditions of artistic Vituperation, 235 
 
 3. Negative conditions of restraint and refinement, ... ... ib. 
 
 4. Importance of Plausibility in strong denunciation, ib. 
 
 RIDICULE. 
 
 Vituperation accompanied with Derision. Special arts, ... 236 
 
 HUMOUR. 
 
 1. Laughter an expression of pleasure generally, ib. 
 
 2. Identified more with certain special modes of pleasure. The 
 
 Ludicrous properly so called ; its occasions in the Actual, ib. 
 
 3. The Ludicrous or Humour, as a form of literature, works on the 
 
 same lines. Means of appeasing the sympathies, while 
 
 gratifying the delight of malignity, ... 239 
 
 4. Designations, Parody, Mock-heroic, Burlesque, 242 
 
 5. Conditions of Humour illustrated by the causes of failure, ... 244 
 
 EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Simple Vituperation : — Macaulay's ' Barere,' 246 
 
 Dryden : — ' Achitophel '; Satire on Shad well, 248 
 
 Pope : — Bape of the Lock ; passage on Addison ; the Bunciad, 249 
 
 Vituperative eloquence of Chatham, 250 
 
 Letters of Junius, ib.
 
 XXX TABLE OF COKTENTS. 
 
 p.Ar.F, 
 
 Burke, ... ... ... ... ... .•• ••. ••• 251 
 
 Examples of the LtJDiCEOUs, as Ridicule and Humour, ... ih. 
 
 Aristophanes : — Passages from the ' Birds ' and tlie ' Frogs,' ... ib. 
 
 Chaucer nearly perfect as a humorist, 254 
 
 Shakespeare :— his fools, 256 
 
 Illustration from his Falstaff, ib. 
 
 Rabelais: — Passage in the storm at sea, ... ' ... 258 
 
 Don Quixote — general characteristics, ... ... ... ... 260 
 
 Addison as a humorist, ... ... ... ... 261 
 
 The ' Sir Roger de Coverley ' papers, 262 
 
 Swift — unsurpassed for Vituperation and Ridicule, 263 
 
 Approaches to Humour, ... ... ... ... 264 
 
 Fielding: — Example of Homeric Parody, ib. 
 
 George Eliot — Satirist and Humorist, 266 
 
 WIT. 
 
 1. Typical form, a play upon words, arising from the various 
 
 meanings of the same expression. Gives the pleasure of 
 surprise and admiration. Identified more particularly 
 with Epigram. Also taking the fonu of Innuendo and 
 
 Irony ; and occasionally Balance and pointed Simile, . . . 268 
 
 2. Conditions of its effectiveness. Causes of failure, 270 
 
 3. Alliance with other qualities — especially Vituperation, Ridi- 
 
 cule and Humour. Sometimes emploj'ed in conveying a 
 compliment. Tempering the extravagance of the love 
 
 emotion, ih. 
 
 EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 The Elizabethans : — Shakespeare, 272 
 
 Butler's Htidibras, ... ... ... 273 
 
 Voltaire on Admiral Byng's execution, 274 
 
 Congreve's Comedies, ... ... ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 Sheridan — Mrs. Malaprop, 275 
 
 Sydney Smith — his wide range as Humorist and Wit ... ib. 
 
 Douglas Jerrold, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 277 
 
 The Irish Bull ib. 
 
 American Humour and Wit, ... 278 
 
 MELODY. 
 
 1. Melody involves both the Voice and the Ear, 280 
 
 2. Scale of dithculty of pronunciation in the Alphabet, ib.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. XXXI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 3. Abrupt consonants alternating with long vowels, 280 
 
 4. Alternation of a single consonant and single vowel. Complex 
 
 arrangements : — (1) Clash and Cumulation of Conso- 
 nants ; (2) Clash of Vowels — hiatus, 281 
 
 5. Speech, to be agreeable, demands Variety in the recurrence of 
 
 letters, 283 
 
 6. Alternation of emphatic and unemphatie, long and short, ... 285 
 
 7. The Close of a Sentence to fall by degrees, 286 
 
 8. Regularity in the recurrence of pauses, 287 
 
 Examples. 
 
 Objectionable sentence from Johnson, ih. 
 
 Examples from Browning, Thomson, Newman, Ruskin, ... 288 
 Many admired passages owe their beauty to the melodj' of the 
 
 words, 290 
 
 HAKMONY OF SOUND AND SENSE. 
 
 1. The sound of language may echo the Sense, 291 
 
 2. Effect easiest when the subject-matter is sound. Examples of 
 
 sound imitation, ih. 
 
 3. Imitation of Movements. Examples, ... ... ... ... 292 
 
 4. Huge unwieldy bulk expressed through slow movement, ... 294 
 
 5. By sound and movement combined language can harmonize 
 
 with specific feelings, ... ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 VEKSIFICATION AND METEE. 
 
 Metre defined, ... 295 
 
 Measures are either Dissyllabic or Trisyllabic, 296 
 
 Accentuation the vital circumstance, ... ... ... ... ib. 
 
 Dissyllabic Measures, 298 
 
 Trisyllabic Measures, 299 
 
 The Pauses. 
 
 The Final Pause, 300 
 
 The Middle Pause, or Caesura, 302 
 
 Alliteration. 
 
 Its meaning and employment in English Poetry, ... ... 304 
 
 Ehyme. 
 
 Three conditions of a perfect rhyme, ... ... ... ... 306 
 
 Great importance of giving the rhyming position to emphatic 
 
 words, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 308
 
 xxxu 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Kinds of Verse. 
 
 Blank Verse, called also Heroic, 
 Iambic Octosyllabics, 
 Heroic Couplets, 
 
 The Sonnet, 
 
 The Spenserian Stanza, 
 
 The Alexandrine. The Ballad Metre, 
 
 Influence of Metre analysed, 
 
 Deviations from the metrical types, 
 
 J. B. Mayor on the suitability of the Metres in ' Hamlet,' 
 
 RESIDUARY QUALITIES. 
 
 ES"ects not included in the foregoing classilication of Qualities, 
 
 THE SENSE QUALITIES. 
 
 The Sensations and their Ideas have an independent efficacy in 
 Art: — Brilliancy, Magnificence, Hilarity, 
 
 UTILITY. 
 
 Associations with Utility in general, 
 
 IMITATION. 
 
 An independent effect, although commonly fusing with the 
 
 other Art Qualities, 
 
 Different ways that Imitation operates, 
 
 Literary examples, ... 
 
 THE MEANING OF BEAUTY. 
 
 Explanation of Beauty by reference to the exposition of the 
 various qualities, ... 
 
 TASTE. 
 
 Identical with the highest artistic merits. Designations for its 
 opposites 
 
 PAGE 
 
 309 
 310 
 
 ib. 
 311 
 
 ib. 
 312 
 
 ib. 
 313 
 315 
 
 317 
 
 ib. 
 
 319 
 
 320 
 221 
 322 
 
 324 
 
 325
 
 EHETOEIO. 
 
 The Emotional Qualities are typified under the 
 following designations : — Strength, Energy, Sublimity ; 
 Feeling or Pathos ; Beauty ; Ludicrous, Humour, Wit ; 
 Melody and Expressiveness in Sound. 
 
 These are leading and comprehensive terms ; they branch 
 out into numerous varieties or species ; and have many 
 synonyms in the wide critical vocabulary. (See Ehetokic, 
 Pabt First, p. 233.) 
 
 In the language of criticism, there are names for varia- 
 tions and combinations of these effects. Thus, Professor 
 Nichol, speaking of Longfellow's ' Golden Legend,' says — 
 ' It contains the highest fliglits of the author's imagination, his 
 melloicest mime, his richest humour, and some of his most 
 inqvessive passages '. (American Literature, p. 202.) 
 
 Campbell's estimate of Spenser's poetry exemplifies a 
 considerable range of the critical vocabulary. 
 
 " His command of imagery is wide, easy and luxuriant. He 
 tlirew the soul of harmony into onr verse, and made it more warmly, 
 tenderly and magnificently descriptive than it ever was before, or, with 
 a few exceptions, than it has ever been since. It must certainly 
 be owned that in description he exhibits nothing of the brief drokrs 
 and robust power which characterise the very greatest poets ; but 
 we shall nowhere find more airy and expansive images of visionary 
 things, a sweeter toiie of sentiment or a finer flush in the colours of 
 language, than in this Eubens of English poetry. His fancy teems 
 exuberantly in minuteiiess of circumstance, like a fertile soil sendino' 
 bloom and verdure through the utmost extremities of the foliage 
 which it nourishes. On a comprehensive view of the whole work, 
 we certainly miss the charm of strength, symmetry and rapid or 
 interesting progress ; for, though the plan which the poet designed
 
 2 EMOTIONAL QUALITIES. 
 
 is not completed, it is easy to see that no additional cantos conld 
 have rendered it less perplexed. But still there is a richness in 
 his materials, even where their coherence is loose, and their dis- 
 position confused. The clouds of his allegory may seem to spread 
 into sha-peless forms, but they are still the clouds of a glowing atmo- 
 sphere. Though his story gi-ows desultory, the sweetness and grace of 
 his manner still abide by him. He is like a speaker whose tones 
 continue to be pleasing, though he may speak too long ; or like a 
 painter who makes us forget the defect of his design by the magic 
 of his colouring. We always rise from perusing him with music in 
 the mind's ear, and with pictures of romantic beauty impressed on 
 the imagination." 
 
 I give another exemplary quotation from Shairp. 
 
 " Mr. Tennyson is, as all know, before all things an artist ; 
 and as such he has formed for himself a conjjosite and richly- 
 wrought style, into the elaborate texture of which ma7iy elements, 
 fetched from many lands and from many things, have entered. 
 His selective mind has taken now something from Milton, now 
 something from Shakespeare, besides pathetic cadences from the 
 old ballads, stately xoisdom from Greek tragedians, epic tones from 
 Homer. And not only from the remote past, but from the present ; 
 the latest science and philosophy both lend themselves to his 
 thought, and add metaphor and variety to his language. It is this 
 elaboration of style, this subtle trail of association, this play of shooting 
 colours, pervading the textiure of his poetry, which has made him 
 be called the English Virgil. But if it were asked, which of his 
 immediate predecessors most influenced his nascent powers, it 
 would seem that, while his early lyrics recall the delicate grace of 
 Coleridge, and some of his idyls the plainness of Wordsworth, wliile 
 the sitbtle music of Shelley has fascinated his ear, yet, more than 
 any other poet, Keats, with his rich sensuous colouring, is the master 
 whose style he has caught and prolonged. In part from Shelley, 
 and stLU more from Keats, has proceeded that rich-melodied and 
 highly-coloured style which has been regnant in English poetry for 
 the last half-centm-y."
 
 ART EMOTIONS CLASSIFIED. 
 
 1. The Emotions of the human mind possess one 
 or other of the three characteristics — Pleasiure, Pain, 
 NeutraHty or Indifference. 
 
 The great object of human endeavour is to secure pleasure 
 and avoid pain. Every artist lends himself to that object, 
 as the chief end of his art. This does not exclude the 
 union of art with effects whose value is not measured by 
 immediate pleasure. 
 
 Although the securing of pleasure and the avoiding of 
 pain is the final end of Literary, as of other ^rt, there are 
 occasions when pain may be used as an instrument ; being, 
 however, duly guarded and limited so as to fulfil the primary 
 end. Not only in Oratory, where pain as such may be an 
 effective weapon, but also in Poetry, a temporary shock of 
 pain may be the means of enhancing the pleasure ; one 
 notable instance being the regulated employment of the 
 painful emotion of Fear. 
 
 A value is attached likewise to Emotion as Indifference or Neu- 
 trality. By this is meant not merely absolute quiescence of mind, as in 
 complete rest, but also modes of excitement, where the pain or the 
 pleasure is either nothing at all, or but small, compared with the 
 mental agitation. The best example is Surprise, which may be either 
 pleasurable or painful ; or it may be neither. Such neutral excitement 
 is better than pain, and may be the means of displacing pain. It is a 
 power over the attention, and can thereby control the feelmgs. 
 
 2. Our Pleasures and Pains are divided accordino^ 
 to their mental origin, into two classes — the Sensations 
 and the Emotions. 
 
 The artistic senses are Sight and Hearing. The 
 others have to be idealized, that is, represented in idea. 
 
 In speaking of the Pleasures of Poetry and Fine Art, 
 we employ the comprehensive designation " Emutlunal
 
 4 AKT EMOTIONS CLASSIFIED, 
 
 Qualities" ; nevertheless, our two higher senses — Sight and 
 Hearing — enter into many forms of Art. 
 
 While several of the Fine Arts, as Painting, Sculpture, 
 Architecture, address the eye ; the Literary Art, Uke Music, 
 addresses directly the ear alone. 
 
 The rausical art has a superstructure altogether its own ; as seen 
 in its instrumental variety. It was coupled, from the earliest tunes, 
 with poetry, and is permanently connected with poetic composition. 
 Verse, as well as prose, is made to be spoken or recited, in which form 
 it affects the ear, like music ; and, when read, without being spoken 
 aloud, the melody is still apparent. 
 
 The pleasure of a sweet sound is an ultimate fact of the senses : the 
 harmonizing of several somids is a yet further pleasure, equally funda- 
 mental and inexplicable. Each musical piece contams some melodious 
 sequence of notes, wliich is characteristic of the piece, and which is 
 not less difficult to account for. There may, however, be involved in 
 these melodies an emotional expressiveness, a derived effect, of the 
 nature of personification, like the charms of those objects of sight that 
 suggest featvures of humanity. 
 
 3. The objects of Sight are not represented in 
 Poetry, as they are in Painting ; but by means of 
 verbal suggestion they may be readily conceived. 
 
 The visible' world contains many things agreeable to our 
 sense of sight. These can be pictured by the force of language, 
 and such pictures are admissible into poetry. 
 
 The splendom-s of coloured decoration in dwellings ; the artificial 
 glare of fire-works ; the colours of field, water and sky ; the gorgeous 
 array of sunset and sunrise — are among the actual sense enjoyments of 
 mankind. They are imitated in pamting, and suggested in poetry. 
 They are among the primary sources of human delight. The iniiuenco 
 of personification lends itself to enlarge their scope in art. 
 
 The devices of language are governed by this restriction of sense 
 pleasures to ideal presentation. First, as to choice of Subject. 
 A painter can give a crowded scene, with the utmost detail, 
 every particular being operative : while the very best description ia 
 poetry can overtake only a very small amount of scenic complication. 
 Second, as to Handling. All the aids of pictorial conception must 
 be carefully studied, to succeed even to the limited extent that success 
 is possible. This consideration goes beyond mere sense pleasures ; the 
 awakening of emotion being largely dependent on the recall of sensible 
 images. 
 
 4. Of the Emotions, strictly so called, the artistic 
 bearings are more numerous still. 
 
 The sensations of the senses are the simplest of all our 
 mental states; the feeling of warmth, the taste of sugar, 
 the odour of musk, the sight of the blue sky— cannot readily
 
 FOUNDATIONS OF ART EMOTION. O 
 
 be decomposed into any simpler feelings. Tiie Emotions, on 
 the other hand, are, in many instances, coalitions or aggre- 
 gates of sensations ; as, for example, the emotion of Pro- 
 perty and the effect named Harmony. 
 
 Again, while the sensations arise by the stimulation of 
 some external organ, called an organ of sense— the skin, the 
 ear, the eye — an emotion is generated more in the depths of 
 the mind, and, when connected with physical organs, works 
 upon these from within rather than from without. Thus, 
 the emotion of Love needs ideas to stimulate and support 
 it ; and, although it may begin in the senses, it undergoes 
 transformation in the depths of intellect. 
 
 5. The Emotions specially belonging to works of 
 Fine Art in general, and to Poetry in particular, have 
 been already indicated (p. 1) ; but the foundations of 
 some of them have to be sought in more general sources 
 of emotion. 
 
 If the emotions named Sublimity, Beauty, Pathos, 
 Humour, were clearly definable in themselves, we should be 
 content to stop with them. If, however, they mask other 
 strong emotions, not always apparent on the surface, it 
 becomes requisite to go back upon these. 
 
 6. Of our susceptibilities to emotion, the pre-emi- 
 nence must be given to the contrasting couple, desig- 
 nated Love and Malevolence. 
 
 To understand the workings of Pathos, we refer to the 
 feeling of Love. In Sublimity and in Humour alike, there 
 is an unpronounced, yet unmistakable, admixture of the 
 delight arising from Malevolence. The Social Feelings, 
 which make up our interest in persons, have their chief 
 sources in these two great fountains of emotion ; and in 
 Art, as in actual life, ovu' highest enjoyment is connected 
 with persons. The influence is still further extended by 
 personifying the inanimate world.* 
 
 7. The Emotion of Feae has a place in the creations 
 of literature, although on grounds peculiar to itself. 
 
 * Although written with comic intention, the following lines fiom Hudibraa 
 give nearly the literal truth. 
 
 And swore the world, as he could prove, 
 Was made of fighting and of love. 
 Just so romances are, for what else 
 Is in them all, but love and battles ?
 
 b AET EMOTIONS CLASSIFIED, 
 
 Unlike Love and Malevolence, Fear is a form of pain, 
 often of the severest kind. As with pain generally, the 
 relief or rebound may amount to pleasure ; and there are 
 occasions when such pleasure has a positive or surplus 
 value. A small fright is sometimes more than compensated 
 by the joyous reaction. This especially happens in sym- 
 pathetic frights, as iu the incidents of romance and the 
 drama. 
 
 Still more important, however, are the bearings of the 
 emotion on the two great sources of genuine pleasure — 
 Malevolence and Love. Malevolence delights in crushing 
 its \actims, and in all the tokens of that result. Now to 
 induce the quakings and signs of fear is one of the marked 
 proofs of success, and is x'elished accordingly. 
 
 On the other hand, the exercise of pity and protector- 
 ship is all the more grateful, the more prostrate the objects 
 of the feeling ; and terror is the proof of prostration. 
 
 8. Among the forms of strong Emotion entering 
 into Literary Art, are the different modes of what is 
 termed Egotism : under which may be included the 
 Pleasure of Power ; Self-Love, Self-Esteem ; Pride 
 and Dignity ; Sense of Honour ; Self-importance ; 
 Vanity. 
 
 These are not fundamental feelings of the mind ; being, 
 in fact, largely made up by contributions from the powerful 
 emotions just named. Yet, however derived, they are named 
 and referred to, apart from their supposed constituents. 
 
 It is only within narrow limits, and under special re- 
 strictions, that these great volumes of sentiment can be 
 evoked by the literature of emotion. One notable case is 
 Flattery, and its opposite, Eeprobation or Vituperation. In 
 some instances, the poet singles out an individual for lofty 
 encomiums ; as seen in the Odes of Pindar, in the praises of 
 Augustus by Virgil, and of Maecenas by Horace. 
 
 More common is the flattery of a whole nation, at the 
 expense of other nations ; as in our own patriotic odes. To 
 flatter humanity in general seems not beyond the power of 
 a poet ; notwithstanding that to raise one person, we must 
 depress some others : while the pleasure of the depreciation 
 is part of the case. Man is said to be god-descended, and 
 thus raised above the beasts that perish. Our noble in-
 
 EGOTISM. — RANGE OF SYMPATHY. 7 
 
 stincts and high faculties are praised in the same way, and 
 by the same comparison. 
 
 Longfellow flatters our human capabilities, in the well- 
 known stanza beginning — 
 
 Lives of great men all remind us — 
 
 The Ehetorieal arts of eulogy will appear in connexion 
 with the poetry of the moral sublime. 
 
 For the present, it is enough to refer to such leading devices as 
 Contrast and Innuendo, for rendering flattery effective, while depriving 
 it of the vice of fulsomeness. 
 
 Tliere are good and also refined modes of flattery, as Literature 
 abundantly testifies. 
 
 There is delicate flattery in Dekker's line — 
 
 Honest labour bears a lovely face. 
 
 Another form of the sentiment is — 
 
 An honest man's the noblest work of God. 
 
 Bums has exemplified the highest flight of this form of flattery, 
 intending to soothe the wounded spirit of the poor and down-trodden of 
 mankind — 
 
 A man's a man for a' that. 
 
 There is an effective mode of indirect flattery, in the apparent 
 moral depreciation of mankhid. This is carried so far as to imply great 
 capabiUties in the first instance. Only a superior nature could be so 
 smful, as is said. We should very much resent being made out at once 
 feeble and bad. 
 
 The opposite of Flattery is Vituperation, an art culti- 
 vated in all ages, and a principal outlet to our malign 
 sentiments. 
 
 In connexion with the group of Qualities, named the 
 Ludicrous, Humour, Wit, the arts of Vituperation will be 
 fully illustrated. 
 
 9. Of great importance in Literary creations is a 
 right understanding of the power named Sympathy. 
 
 As a spur to humane and virtuous conduct. Sympathy is 
 the counteractive of our Egotism or Selfishness. It is in close 
 relation to the tender and amicable emotions, and is called 
 into play by the delineation of pain, misery or distress. 
 
 In another aspect, it is the power of entering into, or 
 realizing, the feelings and situations portrayed in literature. 
 One of the aims of poetry is to body forth characters and 
 incidents that recall the choicest phases of our own person- 
 ality. It was this that gave Alexander his interest in 
 Homer : the character and exploits of Achilles reflected the
 
 8 AET EMOTIONS CLASSIFIED. 
 
 great conqueror's own egotism. According to Goethe, the 
 poet is welcome to the lover, because he can best express 
 and body forth the love-passion. This peculiar interest 
 attaches to ordinary biography. Much more can it be 
 evoked by the set purpose of the imaginative creator of 
 poetry and romance. 
 
 10, In connexion with the exercise of the Under- 
 standing, there is pleasure in discovering Similarity 
 in Diversity, Unity in Multitude. 
 
 The agreeable surprise attending novel comparisons is 
 one of the charms of a work of original genius. Yet further, 
 when the mind is overwhelmed by a multitude of uncon- 
 nected details, the introduction of a plan that imparts unity 
 is felt as a joyful relief. (See, afterwards, Habmony.) 
 
 11, Allied wdtli our Activity in the pursuit of Ends, 
 there is an attitude of suspense and engrossment, 
 occasioning a special form of pleasure, greatly culti- 
 vated in literary art. It is called the interest of Plot. 
 
 In modern Eomance, this interest is cultivated to the 
 utmost. It will be exemplified under a subsequent head 
 (Aids to Qualities). 
 
 12, Although the Beautiful and the Useful are in 
 many ways contrasted, yet the utilities of life, if freed 
 from all repulsive accompaniments, may be brought 
 within the circle of Ajt pleasures. 
 
 A good crop in the fields, or a well-filled larder in the 
 house, is not considered an object of beauty in the same way 
 as a picturesque view, or a fine statue; but from their agree- 
 able associations, they can be used for literary interest. 
 
 In Plato's Dialogue, Hippias Major, the theory that 
 would refer beauty to Utility is refuted by the example of 
 a basket of dung, which is useful without being beautiful ; 
 an objection equally applicable to an apothecary's jar of 
 leeches. Such cases, however, have to be excepted. What- 
 ever produces immediate revulsion, however valuable for 
 certain ends, is not a proper subject for the poetical or 
 literary art. There will be occasions afterwards for drawing 
 the line between admissible and inadmissible forms of pain- 
 ful interest. 
 
 The exercise of commanding Power in bringing forth the
 
 PLEASUEE OF IMITATION. 9 
 
 utilities of life, as in machinery, is a subject of standing 
 interest : as will be seen under the quality of Strength or 
 Sublimity. 
 
 13. Provided the grosser forms of indulgence are 
 kept out of view, our agreeable experiences generally 
 may be ideally depicted in polite literature. 
 
 The reaction from pains and disagreeables of the senses 
 is often acutely pleasurable ; and the idea of it can also be 
 made pleasurable. In particular, the deliverance from 
 burdens, from any over-exertion or strain of the active 
 organs, gives a joyful rebound, which enters into the plea- 
 sures of conscious energy or Strength : and to express such 
 rebound is within the sphere of Art. The delights of Liberty 
 after restraint make an inspiring theme in poetry. This is 
 one of the cases where pain is allowed to be represented in 
 Art ; the pain being the necessary preparation for the re- 
 action that gives the delight. The reader of the Pilgrim's 
 Progress has to share the pain of Christian's burden, together 
 with the depressing sense of his trials, before rejoicing in 
 his final deliverance. 
 
 The inferior senses — Touch, Smell, Taste and Organic 
 Sensibility — yield pleasures in the reality, and these can be 
 so represented in idea as to impart a certain amount of 
 gratiiication. The pleasures of Appetite can also be ideally 
 suggested, but under the restraints imposed by Taste and 
 Morals. The indulgences of muscular exercise and repose, 
 when presented in ideal pictures, are acceptable to all that 
 can take delight in the reality. 
 
 14. Among the emotional effects of the poetic art, 
 we are to include the Pleasure of Imitation. 
 
 This is a far-reaching effect in the Fine Arts. The 
 painter and sculptor deal largely in portraiture and imitation. 
 'J'he poet depicts scenes, actions, and characters ; and the 
 fidelity of the resemblance contributes to the charm of his 
 work. (See Ideality.) 
 
 15. The primary pleasures of mankind are the 
 starting-point for numerous Associations, which have a 
 value as enjoyment both in the reality and in the 
 literary representation. 
 
 Association clothes with interest a great number of 
 2
 
 10 AET EMOTIONS CLASSIFIED. 
 
 objects originally indifferent, and greatly enlarges tlie poet's 
 resources for stirring up pleasurable emotion. Eeverence 
 and sanctity can be imparted, by usage, to places, tbings, 
 persons, observances, incidents and events. Even stones 
 can assume a hallowed interest, as the coronation stone of 
 the Scottish kings, the sacred stone of Mecca, the ruins of 
 Jerusalem.
 
 AIDS TO EMOTIONAL QUALITIES. 
 
 Under all the Emotional Qualities, there is a 
 common attempt to evoke Emotion of the pleasurable 
 kind. There are, therefore, aids, precautions and 
 limitations, equally applicable throughout. 
 
 EEPEESENTATIVE VOCABULAEY. 
 
 1. The comprehensive requirement for arousing 
 the emotions, is Eepeesentative Force in the 
 language. 
 
 In discussing the Figures of Speech and the Intellectual 
 Qualities, more especially Picturesqueness, reference has 
 been made to various conditions of emotional effect. All 
 the arts ministering to intellectual ease contribute to the 
 object now in view. 
 
 In our English vocabulary, each of the leading emotions 
 is provided with verbal designations, as will be seen in the 
 detailed treatment of the Qualities. Yet, whatever be the 
 emotions that we wish to inspire, the names or terms to be 
 employed may be made to fall under the following heads. 
 
 (1) Names appropriated to the Feelings, as such. 
 'Pleasure,' 'charm,' 'delight,' 'happiness,' 'satisfaction,' 
 'exhilaration,' 'cheerfulness,' 'hilarity,' 'gaiety,' 'serenity,' 
 'content,' 'ease,' 'repose'; 'pain,' 'misery,' 'depression,' 
 'gloom,' 'melancholy,' 'sadness,' 'sorrow'; 'warmth,' 'cold,' 
 'fatigue'; 'sweetness,' 'bitterness,' 'pungency,' ' luscious- 
 ness ' ; ' melody,' ' harmony '. 
 
 This class of names is designated ftnhjedlve ; being dis- 
 tinguished from our ohjective terminology, or names for 
 things external. The relative value of each class will be 
 seen afterwards. In the meantime, we must separate the
 
 12 AIDS TO QUALITIES— VOCABULARY. 
 
 purely subjective terms, above exemplified, from those that 
 imply a slight reference to something external. Such are : 
 ' hunger,' ' satiety'; ' fear,' ' love,' ' hatred,' ' rage,' ' wonder,' 
 'selfishness,' 'envy,' 'jealousy,' 'ambition,' 'benevolence,' 
 'pity,' 'admiration,' 'reverence'; 'good,' 'bad'; 'grand,' 
 ' imposing,' ' noble ' ; ' consolation,' ' relief,' ' refreshment ' ; 
 — in all which an outward object is indicated, thereby 
 preventing us from dwelling upon the inward state apart 
 from all objective accompaniments. 
 
 The description of the feelings is extended by epithets, 
 which vary both the degree and the species : ' Great plea- 
 sure,' ' excruciating anguish,' ' intense sweetness,' ' noble 
 rage,' ' profound reverence,' ' acute pain,' ' biting care,' 
 'paralyzing fear,' 'intense disgust,' 'supreme contempt,' 
 'burning indignation,' 'vehement love,' 'ardent curiosity,' 
 ' cruel hate,' ' fierce revenge,' ' tumultuous joys '. 
 
 (2) Names appropriated to objects that, by Association, 
 give rise to feelings. Thus the words ' light,' ' sunshine,' 
 'darkness,' 'heat,' 'cold,' are names for outside influences; 
 yet they have also an emotional effect, by means of their 
 association with agreeable or disagreeable feelings. 
 
 So, — ' beauty,' ' saint,' * heaven,' ' paradise,' ' music,' 
 ' storm,' ' tempest,' ' volcano,' ' ocean,' ' wilderness,' ' abyss,' 
 'hell,' 'night,' 'hero,' 'victor,' 'giant,' 'benefactor,' 
 ' genius,' ' assassin,' ' devil,' ' liar,' ' Hercules,' ' Venus,' 
 ' Cupid,' ' knowledge,' ' wealth,' ' freedom,' ' empire,' ' duty,' 
 ' prosperity,' ' war,' ' death '. 
 
 Epithets here, too, play an important part : ' reddening 
 Phoebus,' 'rosy-fingered morn,' 'gathering storms,' 'smiling 
 morn,' 'twinkhng stars,' 'brilliant meteors,' 'fiery comets,' 
 ' howling winds,' ' sounding lyre,' ' good fortune '. 
 
 (3) Names and phrases appropriated to the Outward 
 Expression of feelings. This class is remarkable for con- 
 taining associates with feelings of instinctive origin. ' Smile,' 
 'laugh,' 'frown,' 'stare,' 'cry,' 'scream,' 'howl,' 'pout,' 
 'sneer,' ' tremble,' 'blush,' ' kiss,' ' embrace,' ' sigh,' ' shout,' 
 ' groan,' ' wail,' 'gnash the teeth,' 'yawn,' 'yearn,' 'burn,' 
 ' smirk,' ' grin,' 'titter,' 'twinge,' 'shake,' ' scratch the head,' 
 'ready to split,' 'hold the sides,' 'hair standing on end '. 
 
 (4) Phraseology of Collateral circumstances, associations 
 and harmonious surroundings : Iloary age ; the silent land.
 
 EXTKANEOUS HELPS. 13 
 
 ^Melancholy lifts her head, 
 Morpheus rouses from his bed, 
 Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, 
 Listening Envy drops her snakes.— (Pope.) 
 
 Gray's Ode, entitled 'On a Distant Prospect of Eton 
 College,' exemplifies all the classes of terms now enumerated. 
 For the more purely subjective, special reference may be 
 made to lines 16-20. 
 
 2. The feeling evoked by the Kepresentative Force 
 of language may be helped and intensified by certain 
 . additional and extraneous circumstances. 
 
 (1) The Causes, or Occasions of a Feeling. 
 
 A burst of wrath is brought home to us more vividly 
 when a strong provocation is assigned ; as with Achilles in 
 the Iliad. 
 
 (2) The Conduct that follows. 
 
 The same instance may be adduced. The separation 
 from the Greek host, the sullen isolation, impresses us still 
 more with the intensity of the angry passion. The details 
 of Lady Macbeth's conduct after the murder and down to 
 her tragical end assist in our appreciation of her remorse. 
 
 (3) The effect on Belief. 
 
 Love blinds us to the defects of the object. Fear exag- 
 gerates danger. Party spirit is evinced by the credit given 
 to calumnious accusations against opponents. 
 
 (4) Influence on the Thoughts. 
 
 The influence over attention and the direction of the 
 thoughts measure the intensity of the feelings, and are 
 constantly used in Poetry, to express the higher degrees of 
 emotion. 
 
 Milton makes Adam say of Eve — 
 
 With thee conversing, I forget all time. 
 
 So Burns — 
 
 By day and night, my fancy's flight 
 Is ever wi' my Jean. 
 
 The intensity of our feeling towards any object has an 
 exact measure in the frequency of its recurrence, and the 
 degree of its persistence in the thoughts. 
 
 Another effective measure of the strength of a feeling is
 
 14 AIDS TO QUALITIES — VOCABULARY. 
 
 the interest it imparts to objects remotely comiected with 
 it, and of themselves trivial ; as relics, keepsakes, souvenirs, 
 local associations, and the like. 
 
 (5) Power to submerge opposing states. 
 
 The love of Jacob for Eachel was evinced by his sub- 
 mitting to fourteen years' service on her account. 
 
 (6) Comparisous. 
 
 As in Gray — 
 
 Sweet is the breath of vernal shower, 
 The bee's collected treasures sweet, 
 Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet 
 The still small voice of gratitude. 
 
 Hamlet, at his lowest depths, exclaims : ' Man delights 
 not me ; no, nor woman neither '. 
 
 By a common hyperbole, in representing the love passion, 
 Tennyson, in ' Maud,' makes the lover speak thus : 
 
 I have led her home, my love, my only friend. 
 There is none like her, none. 
 
 So, in ' In Memoriam ' — 
 
 Dear as the mother to the son, 
 More than my brothers are to me. 
 
 In the catastrophe of 'The Eape of the Lock,' Pope 
 portrays the herome's intensity of emotion by a series of 
 comparisons : — 
 
 Not youthful kings in battle seized alive. 
 Not scornful virgins who their charms survive, 
 Not ardent lovers robb'd of all their bliss, 
 Not ancient ladies when refused a kiss, 
 Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die, 
 Not Cynthia when her manteau's pinned awry, 
 E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair, 
 As thou, sad virgin, for thy ravish'd hair. 
 
 All this is mock hyperbole. 
 
 The kind of comparison here intended is real and not 
 figurative, and is so much the more effective. 
 
 It is remarked by Mr. Theodore Watts (' Poetry,' Enry- 
 clopa'dia Brit(innica) that a certain heat of passion defies 
 and transcends words ; this fact constituting the infirmity of 
 poetry as compared with sculpture and painting. In the 
 acted drama, the blanks are tilled up with silent gesture. 
 In verbal composition, the poet's chief resource is the bold 
 figures — Exclamation, Apostrophe, Interrogation. Com-
 
 POETICAL DICTION. 15 
 
 pression and Suggestiveness, at their utmost pitch, become 
 significant. 
 
 3. The topic of Suggestiveness has numerous bear- 
 ings, as regards power of representation. 
 
 One important circumstance is restraint, or reserve 
 of emotion. 
 
 There ought to be no more expression used than is 
 sufficient for the effect. A surplus is not only needless, but 
 hurtful. Something should be left to the hearers to expand 
 in their own minds. 
 
 When Eichard exclaims — ' the king's name is a tower 
 of strength,' he can do no more. The hearer readily supplies 
 the comparison with the enemy, which Eichard super- 
 fluously tacks on. 
 
 So, in Milton- 
 Such a numerous host 
 Fled not in silence through the frightful deep, 
 
 4. Connected with the Vocabulary of artistic emo- 
 tion is the existence of a select Poetical Diction. 
 
 The language habitually employed by poets has become 
 an essential of poetry. 
 
 It has these characteristics. 
 
 (1) In the first place, when Strenp^h is aimed at, there is a 
 certain degree of dignity or elevation, which, if not absolutely neces- 
 sary to the quality, is a valuable adjunct. This is seen in such 
 words as 'vale,' 'vesture' or 'attire,' 'azure,' 'chanticleer,' for the 
 more prosaic terms 'valley,' ' clothes ' or ' garments,' ' sky,' ' cock'. 
 This means that purely colloquial terms, slang words, and the 
 like, are excluded from poetry ; as well as words and phrases that 
 have grown thoroughly hackneyed. On the other hand, it means 
 that distinct preference is given to words that are rarely emploj'ed 
 in vulgar speech : such as — 'wot,' ' ween,' ' wane,' ' sheen,' 'trow'. 
 
 (2) In the second place, as regards the quality of Feeimg, the 
 effect may be described as warmth or ylow. 
 
 These two characteristics may be readily exemplified from 
 any of the greater poets. Take, first, the opening lines of Pope's 
 ' Messiah': 
 
 Ye nymphs of Solyma ! begin the song : 
 To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. 
 The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades, 
 The dreams of Pindus, and the Aonian maids, 
 Delight no more — O thou my voice inspire 
 Who touch'd Isaiah's hallow'd hps with fire !
 
 16 AIDS TO QUALITIES— VOCABUL.iET. 
 
 Here at once the words 'nymph,' and 'Solyma' attract onr 
 attention ; and, on exammation, we find that they derive their 
 pecuhar virtiae solely from the fact that they are the highly poetic 
 form of what, in common prose, would be expressed by ' virgins ' or 
 'daughters' and 'Jerusalem'. Next comes 'themes' and 'strains,' 
 which are also poetic, and in full keeping with the elevated 
 subject whereof the poem treats ; while a distinct and separate 
 effect is traceable to the inversion of the order of the words. A 
 similar inversion would add to the poetic force of the next two 
 luies, beginning ' No more the mossy fountains,' and ending with 
 ' delight ' : but the diction in ' sylvan shades ' is highly felicitous. 
 Lastly comes the invocation, which is finely worded, with the 
 rhythm and the simple dignity of phraseology in perfect harmony. 
 Next, take a stanza from Tennyson's ' In Memoriam'; 
 
 I held it truth, with him who sings 
 To one clear harp in divers tones, 
 That men may rise on stepping-stones 
 
 Of their dead selves to higher things. 
 
 The opening phrase, ' I held it truth,' is the real essence of 
 poetry, being unmistakably marked off from all prose expression of 
 the same thought, however good : as ' I firmly beHeved,' ' I was of 
 opinion'. The allusion to ' him who sings ' (viz., Goethe) is also 
 in form poetic ; and the very rendermg ' him who sings ' for ' poet ' 
 makes us feel at once that we are in an entirely different world from 
 that of every-day utterance. Then the second line gives poetic ex- 
 pression to the unity of Goethe's teaching, in the midst of all its 
 variety ; employing the archaic terms ' divers ' and ' liarp ' with 
 much "effect. The next two lines are noted mainly for their ima- 
 gery. 
 
 Of the whole, it is to be observed that the effect is obtained 
 more by the diction than by anj' poetic inversion of words, and 
 that the march of the metre keeps pace with the subhmity of the 
 thought. 
 
 Our last example is from Browning's ' Jochanan Hakkadosh' : 
 
 A certain morn broke beautiful and blue 
 
 O'er Schiphaz city, bringing joy and mirth, 
 — So had ye deemed ; while the reverse was true, 
 
 Since one smaU house there gave a sorrow biith 
 In such black sort that, to each faithful eye. 
 
 Midnight, not morning, settled on the earth. 
 How else, when it grew certain thou wouldst die. 
 
 Our much-enlightened master, Israel's proj). 
 Eximious Jochanan Ben Sabbathai ? 
 
 The phraseology here is a study of diction. The terms ' mom,' 
 • deemed,' ' black sort,' are usually reserved for poetry. The 
 names ' beautiful,' ' blue,' ' joy,' ' mirth,' are freely used in prose, 
 without being disqualified for poetry, when connected .with suit-
 
 OBJECTIVE AND SUBJECTIVE COMPAKED. 17 
 
 able subjects. ' Eximions ' is an objectionable word, from not 
 being in sufficient use to be generally understood.* 
 
 Notwithstanding the existence of a copious poetic diction, the 
 larger part of the composition must still be made up of terms 
 adapted to prose and used in familiar style. The poetical charac- 
 ter is imparted by means of unpi'osaic arrangements, and of con- 
 junctions with words of the select poetic class'. 
 
 CONCEETENESS AND OBJECTIVITY. 
 
 1. Eor effects of Emotion, a prime requisite is 
 Concreteness. 
 
 Our strongest feelings attach to what is concrete and 
 individual. With a particular city, a mountain or a river, 
 "we can associate warm emotions ; while in a mathe- 
 matical plan, in gravity, solidity or fluidity, we have a 
 species of interest quite different and not included among 
 poetic or artistic effects. 
 
 The superiority of Concrete phraseology for intellect as 
 ■well as for emotion has been shown under Figures of 
 Speech, Simplicity and Picturesqueness. Further ex- 
 emplification will occur naturally in the detail of the 
 Qualities. 
 
 2. It is important, in view of all the qualities, to 
 note the superiority of Objective thought and phraseo- 
 logy. 
 
 The contrast of Subjective and Objective has already 
 been illustrated with reference to the emotional vocabulary 
 
 There is greater mental exhilaration in directing our 
 view upon outward things than in dwelling on states of 
 the inner consciousness. Hence when, as is so often neces- 
 sary, attention is directed jto the feelings, the preference is 
 given to names suggestive of outward aspects and indica- 
 tions. In speaking of humanity, it is better to say men 
 are affected in a certain way, than the mind is affected. The 
 
 • Wordsworth, in reaction against the School of Pope, maintained that there 
 is no distinct ' poetic diction,' and that the best language for the poet is the best 
 language of common life. It has often been pointed out that his own finest poems 
 are sufficient condemnation of his theory. As Dean Church says, " he mistook the 
 fripperies of poetic diction for poetic diction itself". " He was right in protesting 
 against the doctrine that a thing is not poetical because it is not expressed in a 
 conventional meritage : he was wrong in denying that there is a mintage of words 
 tit for poetry and unsuitable for ordinary prose."— (Ward's English Foets, Vol, IV. 
 p. lo.)
 
 13 AIDS TO QUALITIES— CONCEETENE S3. 
 
 best poetic composition is sparing in the extreme subjective 
 vocabulary. 
 
 Compare these two stanzas, from Mr. Arnold's poem 
 ' A Southern Night ' :— 
 
 That comely face, that cluster'd brow, 
 Tliat cordial hand, that bearing free, 
 I see them still, I see them now, 
 Shall always see 1 
 
 And what but gentleness untired, 
 
 And what but noble feeling warm, 
 Wherever sliown, howe'er inspired, 
 Is grace, is charm ? 
 
 In the first stanza, the language is objective, with as- 
 sociated feelings ; in the second, it is almost purely subjec- 
 tive. 
 
 Among Figures of Contiguity were ranked the putting 
 of the outward sign of a passion for the passion itself. The 
 advantage consists in giving a fictitious objectivity to the 
 mental fact. 
 
 3. Both Concreteness and Objectivity may be pro- 
 moted by the manner of treatment. 
 
 In dealing with an abstract principle even, we may pro- 
 ceed by selecting an example in the concrete, and handling it 
 so as to typify the principle. This method is frequent with 
 all the poets ; see, for example, the sonnet of Wordsworth 
 ' To Toussaint I'Ouverture '. 
 
 Dryden's two 'Songs for St. Cecilia's day' may be quoted. 
 Both are in illustration of the power of Music. In one 
 we have the general principle announced, and then illus- 
 trated by a number of examples showing how music stirs up 
 a great variety of emotions. In the other (' Alexander's 
 Feast'), an individual example is fully described, to show 
 the varied power of music in this single case, the general 
 principle being indicated only at the close. The advantage 
 of the latter plan is obvious. 
 
 Dryden's eulogy of Milton — 
 
 Three poets, in three distant ages bom — 
 
 may be contrasted with Milton's own 'Epitaph on Shake- 
 speare '. Dryden proceeds by the method of analyzing and 
 comparing Homer, Virgil and Milton — a method both 
 abstract and subjective ; while Milton simply fixes attention
 
 ACCUMULATION AND COMBINATION. 19 
 
 on the works of Shakespeare as producing effects so powerful 
 that they render all other monuments of him unnecessary. 
 The result is that Dryden appeals to our reason ; while 
 Milton touches our feelings. 
 
 For examples of Concreteness and Ohjectivity in setting 
 forth general and subjective ideas, we may refer to 'L'Allegro' 
 and ' II Penseroso '. 
 
 Objectivity is a special feature of Eossetti. 'The Blessed 
 Damozel ' may be taken as an instance ; the strongly 
 sensuous description being the more noticeable, since the 
 scene lies in the world of spirits. 
 
 Wordsworth's ' Ode to Duty ' deals in abstract phraseo- 
 logy — victory, law, humanity, truth, love, impulse, nature, 
 freedom, thought, reason, self-sacrifice ; the abstractions 
 being redeemed by the strength of the feehngs associated 
 with these terms. 
 
 There is an excess of abstractness in the following from 
 Addison : — 
 
 Oh, Liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright, 
 Profuse of bliss and pregnant with delight, 
 Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign, 
 And smiling Plenty leads thy wanton train : 
 Eased of her load, Subjection grows more light. 
 And Poverty looks cheerful in thy sight ; 
 Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay, 
 Giv'st beauty to the scene and pleasure to the day. 
 
 The weakening effect is only partly relieved by the personi- 
 fication. 
 
 4. For the prodnction of strong effects on the 
 feelings, it is requisite to Accumulate and Combine 
 ideas and images. 
 
 Earely can an isolated object or impression rouse the 
 mind's energies. In poetry, as in other attempts to awaken 
 a vast mass of emotion, it is the practice to multiply and 
 unite influential circumstances. (See Number of Wokds- 
 p. 32.) 
 
 Take the following from Pope : — 
 
 What sounds were heard, 
 What scenes appear'd, 
 O'er all the dreary coast 1 
 Dreadful gleams, 
 Dismal screams, 
 Fires that glow,
 
 20 AIDS TO QUALITIES — CONCEETENESS. 
 
 Shrieks of woe, 
 Sullen moans, 
 Hollow groans, 
 And cries of tortured ghosts ! 
 
 Nothing could be more powerful, nothing more effective in 
 impressing us with the nature of that region whither 
 Orpheus went in quest of Eurydice. The effect is cumula- 
 tive, and grand. 
 
 Another example may be given from Bp-on's ' Isles of 
 Greece '. The emotion of sorrow for the subjection of 
 modern Greece is stirred up by the accumulation of appro- 
 priate facts from ancient Greek history, and fitting allusions 
 to contemporary circumstances. All are intended to bear 
 on the main feeling, and that feeling is deepened by the 
 accumulated expression. 
 
 Again, the feelings of forsaken love are expressed in 
 ' OSnone ' by a varied combination of thoughts and images 
 fitted to her situation. Grief for a lost friend finds a mani- 
 fold utterance in Tennyson's 'In Memoriam,' Shelley's 
 * Adonais,' and Milton's ' Lycidas '. 
 
 The characteristic of Cumulation and Combination, 
 illustrated on the large scale in these examples, is found in 
 the shortest compositions intended to operate on the feelings. 
 Take the passage from Milton on his blindness {Paradise 
 Lost, III. 41), to show how in the shortest passages cumu- 
 lation of appropriate circumstances is necessary to the 
 production of feeling, and natural to its expression : — 
 
 Seasons return ; but not to me returns 
 Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or mom, 
 Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, 
 Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine. 
 
 Poetic epithets serve, among other tilings, the purpose 
 of accumulating appropriate particulars. The Homeric 
 poetry most fully exemplifies the usage ; but it has been 
 more or less followed by all poets. 
 
 Combination, in order to be effective, is subject to 
 certain conditions, the chief being Harmony and the avoid- 
 ance of overcrowding. (Harmony.) 
 
 Closely allied to this is the creation of strong feeling by 
 particulariziinj objects ; more especially, when this is ac- 
 companied with the tautologies of intense passion. An 
 effect of this kind occurs in the following lines from Pope's 
 ' Ode on St. Cecilia's day ' : —
 
 PARTICULARIZING OF OBJECTS. 2i 
 
 Eurydice still trembled on his tongue ; 
 
 Eurydice the woods, 
 
 Eurydice the floods, 
 Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung. 
 
 So, in Hamlet — 
 
 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, 
 Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
 Nor wmdy suspiration of forced breath ; 
 No, nor the fruitful river in the eye. 
 Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, &c. 
 
 Of this kind of effect, Coleridge says : ' Such repeti- 
 tions I admit to be a beauty of the highest kind ; as illus- 
 trated by Mr. Wordsworth himself from the song of Deborah. 
 " At her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay down : at her feet he 
 bowed, he fell : where he bowed, there he fell down dead." ' 
 
 PEESONIFICATION. 
 
 1. Our deep and permanent impression of the fea- 
 tures and aspects of persons, coupled with emotional 
 interest, leads to the transfer of human feelings to 
 Inanimate things. 
 
 This is named Personification, and enters into all 
 
 the emotional Qualities. 
 
 The interest of Nature will recur at various points in the exposi- 
 tion. It is enough here to distinguish the two modes of its operating, 
 in accordance with the two intellectual forces, named Similarity and 
 Contiguity. (See Figures of Speech, p. 135.) Similarity or Re- 
 semblance is the groundwork of Personification as now to be explained. 
 Contiguous Association expresses an entirely different class of emotional 
 effects — those arising from the habitual conjunction of outward things 
 ■with our feelings, as the various localities where we have passed our 
 days, and the objects that mark the recurrence of our avocations. 
 (See Art Emotions CiiASSiFiED, § 15, p. 9.) 
 
 A mountain viewed as a gravitating mass, of a certain 
 magnitude, and made up of particular materials, has a kind 
 of interest from its bearings on industrial utility or natural 
 defence ; but these are not the precise circumstances that 
 make it sublime, or grand, or imposing. A great engineer 
 gave as his idea of a river that it was intended to feed 
 canals ; this is considerably remote from the conception of 
 a poetic or artistic mind. Tennyson's ' Brook ' will at 
 once show the contrast.
 
 23 AIDS TO QUALITIES— PERSONIFICATION. 
 
 The human form, physiognomy, movements and ex- 
 pression, are not merely repeated in less perfect resem- 
 blance in the lower animals, but imitated in the vegetable 
 and mineral worlds, although with considerable disparity : 
 while our sociable emotions are evoked by such resemblances 
 and imitations. 
 
 In imitating humanity by dead matter, the fullest re- 
 production is a coloured model, which can give a single 
 aspect of an individual person with exactness of detail. 
 Next is the ordinary painter's portrait, by which we are 
 affected nearly in the same way as by the original. In the 
 absence of colour, mere form, as in a statue, or an outline 
 drawing, will awaken the emotions of personality. On 
 such foundations are reared the corresponding Fine Arts, 
 by whose means our interest in persons is greatly multiplied. 
 
 The child's doll is an example of personification, based 
 on resemblance to living humanity, w'hereby a fictitious 
 relationship of mother and child is made up and acted on, 
 so as to gratify the nascent pleasures of maternity. 
 
 There is a step beyond all such purposed resemblances. 
 Any accidental similarity to a human feature arising in the 
 outer world has the power of suggesting humanity and so 
 enlarging our human interest. A face in a rock ; the branch- 
 ing arms of a tree ; the upright attitude, massive form and 
 supporting agency of a column ; the drooping head of a 
 flower ; the semblance of an open, yawning mouth, or a 
 pair of eyes, — are able to awaken our conceptions of hu- 
 manity with its perennial emotions. 
 
 Yet more effective than resemblances to form and features 
 in stillness, is the suggestion of Movement and force by 
 material objects. Action is always more exciting than re- 
 pose ; the forces of Nature awaken in us the sense of power, 
 whclher as exerted by ourselves or by our fellows. A rush- 
 ing stream, the tides and waves of the ocean, the tempests 
 of wind, the volcanic upheavings, the agency of steam 
 nower, the electric battery, the explosives of chemistry, — are 
 suggestive of energy, and may receive from us a personal 
 interpretation. 
 
 Even dead weight, pressure, resistance, as in mountain 
 masses, is conceived as analogous to the exercise of human 
 might. 
 
 Strange to say, the enormous disparity in all the ac- 
 companymg circumstances does not interfere with our
 
 KEED OF STKONG EMOTION. 23 
 
 tracing resemblances to humanity, and indulging the corre- 
 sponding emotions. So pleased are we to have our human 
 affections continually kept in exercise, that we draw 
 nourishment for them from the most unlikely sources. 
 Nevertheless, the disparity needs to be taken into account, 
 as an abatement of the influence. 
 
 In Pagan times, natural objects — as the Siin, the Moon, the Stars, 
 the Sky, the Ocean, rivers, trees, groves — were endowed with mind, 
 and regarded as deities. This effect (it is now supposed), grew out of a 
 class of influences distinct from the foregoing. Nevertheless, it 
 operated in the way of imparting human emotions and purposes to the 
 objects of inanimate nature ; and the idea is fictitiously retained in 
 poetry, while the belief has passed away. 
 
 The worship of stocks and stones is now shown to be not 
 personification, as sometimes believed, but hallowed personal 
 associations. The same also with sacred spots, groves and 
 fountains, connected with some deity. 
 
 Wordsworth left behind him an inscription on a piece of 
 shapeless rock. It had struck his fancy somehow, from 
 constantly meeting his eye in his walks. 
 
 And from the builder's hand this Stone, 
 For some rude beauty of its own, 
 Was rescued by the Bard. 
 
 The interest could hardly amount to personification; yet, 
 by the play of his own feelings while gazing upon it, he 
 could work himself into an emotional fervour. 
 
 2. The principal conditions for the effective employ- 
 ment of Personification in awakening emotion are, first, 
 the stimulus of some great leading emotion. 
 
 To give the interest aimed at in poetry through this 
 special means, the imitation must express or embody one 
 or more of our chief emotions — Power, Malevolence or 
 Love. It requires a strong feeling to break through the 
 immense difference between an oak and a powerful man, 
 the sighing of the wind and a sorrowful utterance from a 
 being like ourselves ; whence the most emotional natures 
 are the most readily touched. Shelley and Wordsworth 
 indulge in flights of Personification that colder minds 
 cannot approach or easily sympathise with. See, for 
 example, Wordsworth's ' Lines Written in Early Spring,' 
 where we have this saying— 
 
 And 'tis my faith that every flower 
 Enjoys the air it breathes ;
 
 24 AIDS TO QUALITIES — PEBSONIFICATION. 
 
 and I/his — 
 
 The budding twigs spread out tlieir fan 
 
 To catch the breezy air ; 
 And I must think, do all I can. 
 
 That there ivas pleasure there. 
 
 In fact, the Nature interest of Wordsworth is for the most 
 part mingled with human thought and feehng. Hence, in 
 the ' Ode on ImmortaUty,' he bursts forth — 
 
 Thanks to the human heart by u'hich we live. 
 Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears. 
 To me the meanest flower tliat blows can give 
 Thouglits that do often lie too deep for tears. 
 
 But, apart from such interest in nature, a bold per- 
 sonification needs strong feeling to support it, as in these 
 examples. 
 
 Browning thus represents the feelings of a lady whose 
 honour has been assailed, when a champion suddenly steps 
 forward to vindicate her cause : — 
 
 North, South, 
 East, West, I looked. The lie was dead, 
 And damned, and truth stood up instead. 
 
 A lover serenading his mistress, and receiving no 
 response, is made by the same poet to speak thus : 
 
 Oh, how dark your villa was, 
 
 Windows fast and obdurate ! 
 How the garden grudged me grass 
 
 Where I stood— the iron gate 
 Ground its teeth to let me pass 1 
 
 There is dramatic propriety in thus representing strong 
 feelin'^ as interpreting nature in harmony with itself. The 
 play of fancy in the last line carries the principle to its 
 extreme length. 
 
 The same dramatic propriety leads to the combination 
 of Hyperbole with Personification in the expression of love. 
 Tor example, in ' Maud ' — 
 
 The slender acacia would not shake 
 
 One long milk-bloom on the tree ; 
 The white lake-blossom fell into the lake. 
 
 As the pimpernel dozed on the lea ; 
 But the rose was awake all night for your sake. 
 
 Knowing your promise to me ; 
 The lilies and roses were all awake, 
 
 They sighed for the da\vn and thee.
 
 DEGREE OF SIMILARITY. 25 
 
 The personifications of intense sorrow may be seen 
 abundantly in Shelley's ' Adonais '. 
 
 3. Second. The amount of similarity, as compared 
 with the diversity, must be enough to justify the de- 
 parture from actual fact. 
 
 The personifying process, being a case of similitude, is 
 subject to the laws formerly laid down for Figures of Simi- 
 larity. Great disparity or irrelevance is hostile to the 
 success of the operation. There is a conflict between the 
 avidity of the mind for the emotional effect and the repug- 
 nance caused by the accompanying unlikeness. 
 
 In the sustained Personification of Wordsworth's ' Ode 
 to Duty,' the similarity is occasionally vague. Tor ex- 
 ample : — 
 
 Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong; 
 
 And the most ancient Heavens through Thee are fresh and strong. 
 
 In Ossian, Personification is often used with insufficient 
 basis of resemblance : as — ' Eise, Moon, thou dauyhter of 
 the sJn/, look from between thy clouds '. 
 
 The effect of the sun beating on a rider during a 
 desperate ride, is thus expressed by Browning : 
 The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh. 
 The similarity, though not great, is fitting, and the personi- 
 fication appropriate. 
 
 As with other similitudes, less of actual resemblance is 
 demanded, provided some striking effect is gained by the 
 personification. Thus Keats says of the nightingale : — 
 
 She sings but to her love, nor e'er conceives 
 How tip-toe night holds back her dark-greg hood. 
 
 4. Third. The effect is favoured by a measured 
 comparison v^^ith human might. 
 
 When the great impersonal powers — as the ocean, the 
 rivers, the winds, earthquakes — come into comparison or 
 collision with human beings singly or collectively, and 
 establish their vast superiority, the feeling of might is more 
 strongly brought home to our minds. 
 
 It is this effect that Byron works up in the stanzas on 
 the Ocean. There is personification throughout, and 
 comparison is sustained by such touches as this : * Ten 
 thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain '.
 
 26 AIDS TO QUALITIES — PERSONIFICATION. 
 
 5. Fourth. Much is gained by Succession to a 
 Climax. 
 
 The influence of great quahties is enhanced by their 
 being presented as the highest term of a succession, pro- 
 ceeding by gradual increase. The effect of a mountain 
 height depends upon the number of intermediate heights 
 that lead up to it. 
 
 The following, from Shelley, shows the climactic arrange- 
 ment ; — 
 
 Yet I endure. 
 I ask the earth, have not the momitains felt ? 
 I ask yon Heaven, the all-beholding Sun, 
 Has it not seen ? The Sea, in storm or calm, 
 Heaven's ever-changmg Shadow, spread below, 
 Have its deaf v?aves not heard my agony ? 
 
 6. In order to put these conditions further to the 
 test, we have to distinguish bet\veen the two modes or 
 degrees of Personification. 
 
 I. The ascription of feelings and will, together with 
 distinction of gender. 
 
 This is seen at its highest pitch in Hebrew poetry. 
 For example : ' The mountains and the hills shall break 
 forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field 
 shall clap their hands '. ' The whole earth is at rest and 
 is quiet ; they break forth before thee into singing. Yea, the 
 fir trees rejoice at thee and the cedars of Lebanon, saying, 
 Since thou art laid down, no feller is come against us.' The 
 opening chapter of the Lamentations of Jeremiah abounds 
 in personification of the boldest kind : ' How doth the city 
 sit solitary that was full of people ! how is she become as 
 a widow ! she that was great among the nations, and 
 princess among the provinces, how is she become tributary ! 
 She w'eepeth sore in the night, and her tears are on her 
 cheeks,' &c. 
 
 This is to substitute a people collectively for an in- 
 dividual, and is not a great departure from literality, while 
 the intensity of the emotion justifies the boldness of the 
 figure. 
 
 The highest pitch is reached in such passages as the 
 first of these, representing the hills singing and the trees 
 clapping their hands. To take such a licence supposes an 
 extreme aud exuberant outburst of joy.
 
 HIGHEST FORM OF THE EFFECT. 27 
 
 Shelley's 'Ode to the West Wind,' 'The Sensitive Plant' 
 and ' The Cloud ' are examples of bold personification sus- 
 tained throughout. The ' Cloud ' is the most coherent ; but 
 it passes from pure personification to ingenious tracing of 
 cause and effect, expressed in highly poetic phrase : — 
 
 I sift the snow on the mountains below, 
 And their great pmes groan aghast. 
 
 The literal and the metaphorical are here mixed up 
 together, and the proper personality is not developed. We 
 sympathize with the eff'ects so described, and regard them as 
 indications of some internal power, but what we feel is a 
 surprise of causation, rather than an inspiration of personal 
 might. 
 
 There is a greater approach to the personifying effect in 
 such lines as : — 
 
 And all the ni?;ht 'tis my pillow white, 
 As I sleep in the arms of the blast. 
 
 This is poetical, or nothing; it is different from the mere 
 garnishing of a physical sequence. 
 
 Tennyson's 'Talking Oak' is equally devoid of the 
 quality of personification. It is simply a device for bringing 
 out the lover's feelings in dramatic form ; a pillar, or other 
 commanding object, would have equally suited the purpose. 
 The oak is personified poetically, when its parts of re- 
 semblance to humanity (remote though they be) are so 
 expressed as to recall human qualities — erectness, branch- 
 ing arms, resistance to the elements, endurance^ gnarled 
 robustness. 
 
 It will be seen that personification does not consist in 
 making insentient objects perform all the minute actions of 
 men or animals, but in the seizing of such features as have 
 a real likeness to the human form, energies and expression — 
 the moan of the sea, the sigh of the wind, the dash of the 
 cataract. It flourishes better on passing allusion than on 
 detailed description : although the modern nature poets, as 
 contrasted with the ancients, have worked the interest to a 
 great degree of minuteness. 
 
 7. Besides natural objects, personification is largely 
 extended to Abstractions. 
 
 The abstract notions — Life, Death, Love, Anger, Friend- 
 ship, lieligiou, Knowledge, Virtue, Liberty, Wisdom, Genius,
 
 23 AIDS TO QUALITIES — PERSONIFICATION. 
 
 Hope, Pleasure, Evil — lend themselves to personification, in 
 consequence of their being attributes of human beings. 
 They derive a slight touch of vivacity by being regarded as 
 persons. The occasion must admit of an elated strain of 
 feeling ; not more, however, than is habitual to poetry. 
 
 Can JFisdom lend with all her boasted power ? 
 Let not Ambition mock their useful toil. 
 Begone dull Care. 
 When leagued Oppression poured to northern wars. 
 
 We have already seen the double effect of brevity and 
 concentration on what is essential, arising from the em- 
 ployment of abstract terms for the corresponding concrete 
 (See EiGUEES of Similarity, p. 184.) The same advantages 
 accrue by the still higher flight of personification. 
 
 The same effect may be produced with abstractions taken 
 from attributes of the lower animals. Eor example : — 
 
 Amid the roses, fierce repentance rears 
 Her snaky crest. 
 
 In Collins's ' Ode to the Passions,' the selection of attri- 
 butes are very much at random ; but the detailed effects of 
 each are more tersely given by the abstract form, and the 
 delineation falls easily under the personal treatment. 
 
 Time, Eternity, Force, Night, Space, Immensity, — are 
 farther removed from persons than the foregoing ; yet, under 
 circumstances that justify the bolder figures, they can be 
 personified with effect. The vastness of the conceptions that 
 they include causes them to take rank with the loftiest 
 agencies of the world, and they enter largely into the 
 vocabulary of the Sublime. 
 
 Milton's 'Hail, Holy Light,' is not strictly an ab- 
 straction. It personifies the most elevated of the powers 
 of Nature. Heat and Magnetism might be equally per- 
 sonified, if they inspired the same intensity of emotion. In 
 the aspect of tire. Heat is associated with devastating and 
 destructive power, and in that capacity lises to personifica- 
 tion. Eire- worship is a form of religion. 
 
 The effective use of personification to give vividness to 
 abstract ideas, may be studied in 'L' Allegro' and 'II Pen- 
 seroso'. Melancholy, Darkness, Care, Laughtei-, Liberty, 
 Night, Morn, Sleep, — are some of the ideas thus personified. 
 On the other hand, the practice of personifying abstractions
 
 INFERIOR DEGREE OF THE EFFECT. 29 
 
 takes a different turn in Johnson and other eighteenth century 
 writers. For example : — 
 
 From bard to bard the frigid caution crept, 
 Till declamation roared, whilst passion slept ; 
 Yet still did %'irtue deign the stage to tread ; 
 Philosophy remained, though nature fled. 
 But forced at length her ancient reign to qmt, 
 She saw great Faustus lay the ghost of wit: 
 Exulting folly hailed the joyful day. 
 And Pantomime and song confirmed her sway. 
 
 If there be any value in this, it is a species of vituperation, 
 where the personifying words are used to give brevity and 
 compactness. 
 
 The English language possesses an advantage in personi- 
 fication, by confining the masculine and feminine genders to 
 persons. The effect is, besides, aided by the possessive case, 
 which also is strictly applied only to persons. In the fol- 
 lowing instance the personification is weakened by the use 
 of 'its' and 'it' instead of 'her' and 'she'. The neuter 
 pronoun is used to avoid ambiguity, but produces a sense 
 of discord : — 
 
 But who can paint 
 Like Nature ? Can imagination boast, 
 Amid its gay creation, hues like hers? 
 Or can it mix them with that matchless skill. 
 And lose them in each other, as appears 
 In every bud that blows ? 
 
 8. II. Attributing to things inanimate some quality 
 of living beings. 
 
 The silent night, the tldrsfy ground, the angry sea, a dying 
 lamp, a speaking likeness, the sluggish Ouse, — exemplify a 
 familiar operation of rendering objects more vivid by epithets 
 derived from persons. They are really a special form of the 
 Metaphor, and must be judged according to the laws of 
 Similitudes. Like other figures of resemblance, they may 
 be appropriate and effective, or they may be wholly useless. 
 
 The same strength of emotion as in the higher form is 
 not here necessary. 
 
 The subtle tracing of human aspects in the immense 
 variety of the vegetable world — as indicating both strength 
 and pathos — has been a progressing study of the poets. It 
 is an important region of the far-reaching Nature interest, 
 which is largely created, but not exhausted, by the personi- 
 fying tendency. (See Subjects.)
 
 30 AIDS TO QUALITIES — HAEMONY. 
 
 HAEMONY. 
 
 1. Of all the conditions of a work of Fine Art, the 
 most imperative is Haemony. 
 
 A plurality of things affecting the senses or the deeper 
 feelings of the mind, at the same time, may be emotionally 
 indifferent to each other. On the other hand, they may be 
 either harmonious or discordant, according as the feelings 
 they suggest are in agreement or opposition. 
 
 The discovery was early made that harmony is a source 
 of pleasure, discord a source of pain. In a harmonious 
 succession of efi'ects, the particular emotion aroused is inten- 
 sified by the agreement ; while in discordant effects, the 
 separate emotional impressions are weakened by their opposi- 
 tion. But, besides this, there is a distinct pleasure in the 
 feeling of emotional unison, and a corresponding pain when 
 it is conspicuously wanting. In their extreme manifesta- 
 tions, the pleasure or the pain may be very acute. Artists 
 have endeavoured in their productions to superadd the plea- 
 sure of harmony to the gratification of the simple feelings. 
 Music is sweet sounds made sweeter by harmony. Poetry 
 possesses far wider scope ; being, so to speak, made up of — 
 
 high and passionate thoughts 
 To their own music chanted. 
 
 The pleasure of harmony, like the pleasure of beauty as a 
 whole, increases at a rapid rate by delicacy of adjustment; 
 and contrariwise with tbe pain of discords. 
 
 The subject has already come up, under Figures of 
 Similarity. It will appear again, with reference to the 
 sound of language, under the head of Melody. 
 
 Harmony has to be considered on the great scale, in the 
 adjustment of the parts of a lengthened composition, as an 
 Epic, a Drama or a Novel. The Plot and Incidents must 
 all work towards one result ; Characters have to be made 
 self-consistent ; the Scenery and Surroundings adapted to 
 the tenor of the events ; the Language generally fitted to the 
 Emotions to be roused. On the small scale, every distinct 
 utterance — every stanza, sentence or line — has to be har- 
 moniously constructed, if the highest efi'ects of poetry are to 
 be realized. It is in the study of these minute harmonies 
 that rhetoi'ical art can be best exhibited.
 
 COMPATIBLE AND INCOMPATIBLE EMOTIONS. 31 
 
 2. There are certain assignable emotions that are 
 congruous, and certain others that are incompatible ; 
 but it is in the nice emotional meanings and associa- 
 tions of words, images and phrases that the most 
 delicate taste of harmony lies. 
 
 The poet must be on a clear understanding with his 
 audience, and they with him, in respect to all the emotional 
 associations of words. Hence, the need of an education on 
 both sides. 
 
 To produce an effect of sublime grandeur, the images and 
 the phraseology must be tinctured with the special emotion. 
 Above all, there must be an entire absence of everything 
 that would suggest the commonplace, the mean, the little, 
 the grovelling. Hence the weakness of the following : — • 
 
 Graced as thou art with all the power of words, 
 So known, so honoured, at the House of Lords* 
 
 The same writer says of the divine power that it- 
 Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze. 
 Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees, 
 Lives through all life, extends through all extent, 
 Spreads undivided, operates unspent ; 
 Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, 
 As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart. 
 
 The last line is felt as a descent from the grandeur of the 
 previous description, and this unpleasing effect is increased 
 by the alliteration. 
 
 Strength and Pathos will be found to be so far opposed, 
 that, in their more decided forms, they must not concur in 
 the same situation; they may, however, succeed one another 
 by a rapid transition, or be mutually modified till they cease 
 to conflict. The extremes of malevolence and love or 
 affection must not meet without an interval for the mind to 
 accommodate itself, while the objects of the two must be 
 different ; yet the milder phases of the feelings are not 
 incompatible. 
 
 * "It seems incredible that Pope could have allowed this piece of bathos to 
 escape from his pen. The specimen of anticlimax given in Scriblerus, ' Art of Sink- 
 ing ' (Roscoe, 5, 257), 
 
 ' And thou, Dalhousie, the great god of war, 
 Lieutenant-Colonel to the Earl of Mar,' 
 is not more ridiculous than that here committed by Pope himself. " (Mark Pattison.)
 
 32 AIDS TO QUALITIES — HAEMONT. 
 
 Browning's 'Lost Leader' illustrates both points. In 
 the first place, there is, throughout, a combination of Strength 
 and Pathos without discord. Strength is felt in the form 
 of moral indignation and quiet confidence of success ; Pathos 
 in the sadness of a great man's apostasy. Thus — 
 
 Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, 
 
 Bums, Shelley, were with us, — they watch from their graves 1 
 He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, 
 
 He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves. 
 
 The strength and the pathos are both of the calmer sort ; 
 the more intense forms of either feeling could not so easily 
 blend without contradiction. Further, the poem shows the 
 combination of anger and affection ; but the anger shades 
 into sorrow, and the affection appears in the form of pity. 
 For example : — 
 
 Life's night begins : let him never come back to us 1 
 There would be doubt, hesitation and pam. 
 
 Forced praise on our part — the glimmer of twilight, 
 Never glad, confident morning again. 
 
 Among animals, the mother tending her young is liable 
 to rapid transitions from affection to resentment. This is 
 the rude type of chivalry, which combines the gi-atification 
 of the two opposing emotions —love and hate, amity and 
 enmity. 
 
 The gay or light-hearted condition of mind is incom- 
 patible with grief, anxiety and seriousness. 
 
 There is a strong incompatibility between the warmth of 
 feeling and the coldness of scientific or matter-of-fact calcula- 
 tion. The language of emotion must be carefully freed from 
 cold scientific phraseology. 
 
 Equally opposed to feeling is the statement of qualifying 
 conditions. Herein is one great contrast between poetry 
 and the ordinary prose. 
 
 In Shelley's ' Skylark,' the limitation contained in the 
 opening stanza is slightly out of harmony with the strong 
 feeling expressed : — 
 
 Hail to thee, blithe spirit, 
 
 Bird thou never wert. 
 That from heaven, or near it, 
 
 Pourest thy full heart. 
 
 The following, from Keats, contains a markedly jarring 
 element, owing to the introduction of a cold prosaic 
 expression : — ■
 
 HARMONY A PART OF POLISH. 33 
 
 Fresh carved cedar, mimicking a glade 
 Of palm and plantain, met from either side, 
 High til the midst, in honour of the bride : 
 Two palms and then two plantains, and so on, 
 From either side their stems branched one by one. 
 
 Shelley, in a passage of strong feeling, thus writes : — 
 
 Antonia stood and would have spoken, when 
 The compound voice of women and of men 
 Was heard approaching. 
 
 The word ' compound ' is hardly in tune with the occasion. 
 
 Harmony is a principal feature in those poets that are 
 said to be correct, or polished, in contrast to such as 
 excel in originality and profusion of thought and language. 
 To pohsh is the work of the later poets, when the field of 
 invention has been narrowed by their numerous predecessors. 
 
 The absence of felt harmony in a succession of emotional effects, 
 even when there is no discord, mvolves a loss of power. In this passage 
 from Ossian, the impression is weak from the want of distinct harmony 
 among the ideas, as well as from the vagueness and exaggeration of 
 the comparisons : — ' As a hundred wmds on Morven ; as the streams of 
 a himdred hills ; as clouds fly successive over heafven ; as the dark 
 ocean assails the shore of the desert ; so roaring, so vast, so terrible, 
 the armies mixed, on Lena's echoing heath'. In Keats's 'Endymion' 
 may be fomid not vmfrequently a profusion of thoughts impressive 
 enough when taken in separation, but having no distinctly felt emo- 
 tional congruity. 
 
 It is something more than mere harmony, although still 
 included in correctness or polish, to avoid grating on any of 
 our sensibilities, while producing agreeable effects. A smaller 
 amount of pleasure - giving touches will be acceptable, if 
 there be an entire absence of jars, whether discords or 
 others. The grand opening of the poem of Lucretius is an 
 instance in point. 
 
 In his determination to draw poetry from the most 
 ordinary facts and circumstances, Wordsworth sometimes 
 introduces elements that jar on the feelings, without any 
 adequate compensation. See examples in ' Simon Lee '. 
 
 3. In setting forth subjects of a repugnant character, 
 there may be a softening or alleviating effect in the 
 adjustment of the harmonies. There may also be the 
 opposite. 
 
 As examples we may quote Shelley's ' Sensitive Plant ' 
 and Tennyson's ' Mariana m the Moated Grange '. 
 
 3
 
 34 AIDS TO QUALITIES — HAEMONY. 
 
 The first three stanzas of Shelley's 'West Wind' con- 
 tain harmonies that aggravate rather than alleviate the 
 baleful influences atti-ibuted to that wind. 
 
 The ' Meeting of Witches ' in Ben Jonson's Masque of 
 Queens is well sustained in keeping for its particular purpose. 
 
 The witch scenes in Macbeth, and in Faust, are pur- 
 posely made horrible ; they chime in with the horrors of the 
 action. Scenes that, in their nature, are peaceful, happy 
 and virtuous, would appear incongruous and discordant 
 unless worked up with a view to conti-ast. 
 
 How far the horrible can be carried in such cases, is 
 a matter of delicate adjustment. The permissible limits 
 are illustrated in the paraphernalia of mourning for the 
 dead ; the apparel of the mourner is gloomj and sombre, 
 but not loathsome. Thelre is even costly refinement in the 
 weeds of the wealthy. To carry a skull in a funeral pro- 
 cession would be revolting; to paint it on the hearse is 
 thought fitting. 
 
 The assemblage of monstrous products in the witches' 
 cauldron is rendered endurable by not going beyond remote 
 suggestion of the horrible. We hear of the 'liver of 
 blaspheming Jew,' ' nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,' and 
 worst of all, 'finger of birth-strangled babe ;' but the indi- 
 cation is so slight that imagination does not pursue the 
 hideous details. 
 
 In ' Tarn o' Shanter,' we have an enumeration of yet 
 more repulsive objects as exhibited at the dance of * war- 
 locks and witches ' in Alloway Kirk. There is the same 
 ground for it in the harmony with the situation , but the 
 description is given with repulsive details. 
 
 4. The harmonious on the great scale comprehends 
 the agreeable effect of Unity in multitude. 
 
 Unity, as already seen, applies to the Sentence and the 
 Paragraph ; and is an aid to ease of comprehension. In a 
 longer work, it implies perceptible adherence to a plan, 
 wherein every detail finds a suitable place and a definite 
 relation to the whole. In the Dramas of Shakespeare, 
 there is a well-marked Unity of this kind ; although the 
 unities of Time and Place, as laid down by Aristotle and the 
 French critics, are little regarded. Wordsworth is a good 
 example of unity ; not so Shelley.
 
 coleridge and milton. 35 
 
 Examples of Harmony and Discord. 
 
 First is a short example from Coleridge : 
 
 Silent icicles 
 Quietly shining to the quiet moon. 
 
 There is here a harmony of quietness or repose ; the icicles in 
 their stillness shining under the ray of the equally still moon. 
 
 From Milton's 'Hymn on the Nativity,' we may quote the fol- 
 lowing stanza (5) : 
 
 But peaceful was the night 
 Wherein the Prince of light 
 
 His reign of peace iipon the earth began. 
 The winds, with wonder whist, 
 Smoothly the waters kist, 
 
 Whispermg new joys to the mild Ocean, 
 Wlio now hath quite forgot to rave 
 WhUe bh-ds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. 
 
 There is a general harmony here, and nothing more. The winds 
 are still, the Ocean is mild, and the birds repose calmly on the 
 wave. There is MUton's peculiarity of mtrodi:cing a contrast of 
 strength or violence — 'forgot to rave'- — by way of heightening a 
 peaceful picture. It proves the character of his genius, that he 
 will seldom, if ever, be found making a contrast when the subject 
 is grand or terrible ; he then acciunulates images all in one 
 direction. See, as an example, among many, the passage on Sin 
 and Death. 
 
 His avoidance of realistic and painful harmonizing horrors, in 
 a painful subject, can be abundantly shown. Thus, in Lycidas : — 
 
 It was that fatal and perfidious bark. 
 
 Built m the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, 
 
 That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 
 
 He could hardly have said less m denoiuicing the ship ; he spared 
 us the pain of reflecting on the worthless and unprmcipled 
 builders or owners, and put the blame upon fictitious and painful 
 circumstances. 
 
 The reserve of Shakespeare, in such circtunstances, already 
 alluded to, is strongly marked in the crowning instance of the 
 terrors of death : 'Ay, but to die'. 
 
 Very different from this is the realistic description of Jeremy 
 Taylor or Jonathan Edwards ; their aim being persuasion, and not 
 artistic pleasure. 
 
 Most notable in Shakespeare is his vinfailing dramatic back- 
 ground of nature to suit the incidents of the story. In connexion 
 with this point in 'Julius Cajsar,' Mr. Moulton makes the following 
 pertinent observations on the employment of such harmonies
 
 36 AIDS TO QUALITIES— IDEALITY. 
 
 generally : " The conception of nattu-e as exhibiting sympathy 
 with sudden turns in human afl'airs is one of the most fundamental 
 instincts of poetry. To cite notable instances : it is this which 
 accompanies with storm and whirlwmd the climax to the Book of 
 Job, and which leads Milton to make the whole universe sensible 
 of Adam's transgi-ession : 
 
 Earth trembl'd from her entrails, as again 
 
 In pangs, and Natiu-^p gave a second groan ; 
 
 Sky lom'ed, and muttering thunder, some sad drops 
 
 Wept at complfctmg of the mortal sin 
 
 Original. 
 
 So, too, the other end of the world's history has its appropriate 
 accompaniments : ' the sun shall be darkened and the moon shall 
 not give her light, and the stars shall be falling from heaven '. " 
 
 The Greek poets Avere not wantmg in this harmonious ad- 
 justment. Of the 'Prometheus' of vEschylus, Sjmonds remarks: 
 " The scenery of his drama is in harmony with its stupendous 
 subject. Barren mountain summits, the sea outspread beneath, 
 the sky with all its stars above, silently falling snowflakes and 
 tempestuous wmds, thunder, and earthqualce, and riven precipices, 
 are the images which crowd upon the mmd. In like manner the 
 di;ration of time is indefinitely extended. Not years, but centuries, 
 measure the continuance of the struggle between the sovereign 
 will of Zeus and the sti^bborn resistance of the Titan." 
 
 In Coleridge, the delicate harmony of the thoughts is unsur- 
 passed ; yet the sweetness of the language, as sound and metre, is 
 perhaps stOl more apparent. For sustamed harmony of imagery 
 alone, we have scarcely a rival to Keats's 'Ode to the Nightingale,' 
 more especially the second stanza. 
 
 Tennyson's attention to Harmony is conspicuous. In ' In 
 Memoriam,' Sect, xi., we have a pictiu-e of calm despau'ing 
 sorrow, with scenery to harmonize, which may be contrasted with 
 the passionate grief of OSnone. The ' Lotus-Eaters ' is a study in 
 harmonious effects. The harmonies with love in its various phases 
 are abimdant in ' Maud '. 
 
 Gray, in the ' Bard,' display's a want of keeping when he winds 
 up his thrilling denunciation of the entire race of English sovereigns 
 with the fulsome flattery of Ehzabcth. This might have been 
 reserved to a different occasion. 
 
 The mixture of our two vocabularies is unfavourable to delicate 
 liarmcnious adjustments. In Pathos especially, classical terms are 
 ai)t to have a cold or jarring effect. 
 
 IDEALITY. 
 
 1. To depart from actual facts, with a view to 
 gi-eater pleasure, is the essence of Ideality.
 
 OCCASIONS FOE THE IDEAL. 37 
 
 The human mind is afc once dissatisfied with actual 
 things, and capable of taking delight in the mere conception 
 of what is higher and better. The poet accommodates 
 himself to this peculiarity, and supplies ideal pictures ; he 
 brings to bear all his special powers of creation, selection, 
 omission, adaptation and elevation of circumstances, to- 
 gether with the superadded charm of the poetic dress, which 
 the absence of restraints enables him to make more perfect. 
 
 In Scenic delineation, besides completing the harmony, the 
 poet goes beyond nature in the richness of the accumulation, and 
 colours the language with glowing illustrations. Such are the 
 chosen scenes of Romance and of Fairy-land, the hapjiy valleys 
 aiid islands of the Blest, the gardens of the Hesperides, the Elysian 
 fields and the pictures of Paradise. 
 
 The portraying of Characters likewise undergoes the idealiz- 
 ing process. Men and women are produced with larger intellects, 
 greater virtues, higher charms, than life can afford ; it being agree- 
 able and stimulating to contemplate such elevated natures. The 
 bright points of real character are set forth, with omission of the 
 dark featm-es ; strong qualities are given, without the corresponding 
 weaknesses ; and incompatible virtues are combined in the same 
 person. The courage of youth is united with the wisdom and 
 forbearance of age. Lofty aspirations and practical sense, rigid 
 justice and tender considerations, the fortiter and the suaviter, are 
 made to come together, notwithstanding the rarity of the combi- 
 nations in the actual. 
 
 The grace of the feminine character added to the force of 
 the man — the luanly, and not the masculme, woman — has been a 
 favourite ideal in all ages ; it was embodied in Pallas Athene 
 (Mmerva) and in Artemis (Diana), and is reproduced abundantly in 
 our own Poetry and Romance. In one of the Icelandic Sagas, we 
 have "a heroine possessing all the charms of goddess, demi-goddess, 
 earthly princess and amazon ". 
 
 Human society labours under a chronic want of disinterested- 
 ness and mutual consideration on the pai't of its members, and, as 
 an ideal compensation, there is a demand for select or heightened 
 pictures of love, devotedness and sympathy. 
 
 The ideal of Story consists in assigning the fortunes and 
 destmies of individuals with greater liberality and stricter equity 
 than under the real or actual. The miseries as well as the 
 flatness of life are passed over, or redeemed ; the moments of 
 felicity are represented as if they were the rule ; poetic justice is 
 supreiue, and measures out to each man his deserts ; mixed and 
 bad characters are admitted along with the good, but all are dealt 
 with as the poet's, which is also the reader's, sense of justice 
 demands. 
 
 The severe and difficult virtues of Prudence, Judgment and
 
 38 AIDS TO QUALITIES — IDEALITY. 
 
 Calculation are slighted ; and success made to follow the generous 
 and uncalculating impulses of the heart. 
 
 Love, Beauty and Innocence are made triumphant over 
 brute force and savage ferocity ; as in the ' Una and the Lion ' of 
 the Faerie Queene. 
 
 The animals that interest us — the nightingale, the lark, the 
 thrush, the robin — are conceived as spending their hves in unbroken 
 fehcity. 
 
 Spring is surrounded with ideal glories, on a slender basis of 
 fact. 
 
 The poor are occasionally assumed to have a high order of 
 virtue peculiar to themselves. 
 
 Beneficent despotism, absolute authority in good hands, is a 
 favourite ideal. Or, as otherwise expressed, ' might is right ' ; ' the 
 strong thing is the true thing '. 
 
 Tlie Actual is marked by numerous and varied circumstances 
 and conditions : some favourable, others imfavom'able, to our 
 happiness. The good and the evil are inseparable in human life, 
 A monarch, or a man of wealth, possesses great means of enjoy- 
 ment; he is no less certainly exposed to incidents that mar his 
 delights. The Ideal presents only the good side of a brilliant lot ; 
 thus giving rise to disappointment when brought into compaiison 
 with fact. 
 
 So great is the charm of many forms of represented bliss that 
 we welcome the picture, even when we know that it omits the 
 drawbacks inseparable fi'om the reality. This is to indulge the so- 
 called ' Pleasvires of the Imagination '. 
 
 The Kealistic picture is characterized, among other things, by 
 a restoration of the omitted shadows. 
 
 The contrast of the Ideal and the Eeal is finely touched in 
 Keats's ' Ode to a Grecian Urn ' : — 
 
 Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard 
 Are sweeter : therefore ye soft pipes play on. 
 
 2. Ideality appears in two distinct forms ; orie 
 representing the facts of experience in greater perfec- 
 tion than is really attained, the other picturing a state 
 of things out of all relation to actual life. 
 
 The first of these forms is seen in the ideal characters, 
 strikinj^ coincidences, happy conclusions and poetic justice 
 of ordinary novels and poetry. These pictures are still 
 viewed as representations of real life, notwithstanding that 
 the characters and actions are exaggerated heyond ordinary 
 experience ; and the pleasure they give is that illustrated in 
 the figure Hyperbole. 
 
 The other form of Ideality is exemplified in the ' Arabian
 
 POWERFUL EMOTIONS NECESSARY. 39 
 
 Nights,' ' Gulliver's Travels ' (apart from their satirical pur- 
 pose), the 'Faerie Queene' and, in general, all stories of 
 fairies, genii, ghosts and other supernatural agents. In such 
 cases, the stories have little, if any, relation to natural life, 
 and the reader does not think of such a relation ; the pleasures 
 they give depending on other circumstances. Such a story 
 as Mrs. Shelley's 'Frankenstein' and much of Eider 
 Haggard's romances comes under this head. Keats's 
 ' Endymion ' and ' Hyperion ' are of the same class ; and, 
 indeed, to us, whatever it may have been to the original 
 readers, such is all the mythological poetry of the ancients. 
 
 3. The main conditions for all forms of Ideality are 
 the following : — 
 
 I. The emotions or passions appealed to must be 
 naturally powerful ; they must include our deepest sus- 
 ceptibilities : Love, Malignity or some form of our many- 
 sided Egotism. We can take pleasure in the mere concep- 
 tion of things that stir those feelings, even though the 
 actual fruition is absent. 
 
 The sensual pleasures are less suitable, because of their 
 being accompanied with too strong a craving for the reality ; 
 which craving, if ungratified, is a cause of pain. The 
 imagination of a feast gives more pain than pleasure to a 
 hungry man. 
 
 The case is very much altered when the idea is a prelude 
 to actual gratification. This, however, is not a true test of 
 Ideality in itself. Still, when the unknown and imagined 
 offers a prospect of better things than we already have, as is 
 done by truth in the shape of probability, our hopes are 
 kindled, and the charm of the picture is then intense. This 
 gives a fascination to Bacon's ideals of the progress of 
 knowledge. All such gratification appeals to our egotism^ in 
 the shape of collective self-interests. 
 
 II. The creation must be successful in stirring the 
 emotions appealed to. It must be thoroughly well managed 
 for doing the right thing and no more. This includes all the 
 details of poetic sufficiency ; the proper selection and adapta- 
 tion of materials, according to the laws of poetic emotion. 
 Such grand successes were the Homeric creations, which 
 stirred the Greek mind for a thousand years, and are not 
 lost upon us moderns. The characters of Helen, Andi-o-
 
 40 AIDS TO QUALITIES — IDEALITY. 
 
 mache, Achilles, Ulysses, -were pure ideals, but so conceived 
 aud executed as to be a perennial charm. 
 
 4. The limitations imposed by the consideration of 
 Truth are not strict or narrow, and are meant to be 
 subservient to the general effect. 
 
 When a bright ideal is held out to us, there is a very 
 important distinction, as regards its influence, between the 
 unrestricted licence of imagination, and ideality regulated by 
 truth or probability. If the laws of emotion are attended 
 to, the wildest fancies may give pleasure. But, when the 
 picture is both well imagined and true to fact, we obtain a 
 satisfaction of another kind. We can apply the example as 
 a lesson, warning or encouragement for ourselves ; we can 
 base hopes upon the prospect ; and thus derive some of the 
 relief and refreshment accruing from an alleviation of the 
 burdens of life. The happy combination of Poetry with 
 History, or with Science, when possible, may be a loss iu 
 imaginative sweep, but a gain in solidity of footing. 
 
 The usual ending of a Romantic plot in the union of the 
 lovers is a tolerated ideal, because it gratifies a strong 
 emotion, and because the happiness of wedded love is a 
 splendid possibility, occasionally realized. There is a basis 
 of nature for the delightful expectation. 
 
 Compare, on the other hand, Marlowe's poem, * The 
 Passionate Shepherd to his Love,' which in its ideality 
 passes all reasonable bounds ; hence the scathing lines of 
 Sir Walter Ealeigh, by way of exposing the hoUowness. 
 The beauty, gi'eat as it is, hardly redeems the want of truth. 
 
 Coleridge's poem, ' When I was young,' can barely atone 
 by its emotion for its want of truth. The happiness of 
 early years is idealized to excess ; and the feeling of the 
 piece is a mournful, depressing melancholy. Nothing but 
 the poetic treatment remains to inspire us. 
 
 It is a rule of criticism, on this subject, that, in idealizing 
 pictures from actual things, the departure from nature should not 
 extend to incompatibility, or contradiction of the laws of things. 
 It would be censurable to describe a moonlight night as following 
 a solar eclipse ; to introduce a man 150 years old ; or to assign 
 to the same person the highest rank as a poet, and as a man of 
 science. But rare and fortunate conjunctions may be made use of, 
 and even such conjunctions as have never been actually knowTi to 
 occiu-, provided they are such as might occur. Poetical justice is 
 sometimes realized in fact, and the only tiling against nature would be
 
 LIMITATIONS TO THE IDEAL. 41 
 
 to set it up as the rule. It was remarked by Hobbes : * For as 
 truth is the boimd of the historian, so the resemblance of truth is 
 the utmost limit of poetical liberty ', ' Beyond the actual woi-ks 
 of nature a poet may go; beyond the possibilities of nature never.' 
 Scott has been blamed by Senior for introducing lucky ' coinci- 
 dences ' beyond all the bounds of probability, and of admissible 
 exaggeration. 
 
 On the other hand, when we give ourselves up to the enjojonent of 
 what is entirely out of relation to the facts of experience, our first 
 demand is self-consistency. We have entered a new world, but we 
 require that that world should be a conceivable, if not a possible, one. 
 In this element of self-consistency, ' Gulliver ' is conspicuous ; all the 
 life and institutions of Lilliput, Brobdignag, &c., being ingeniously 
 fitted to the fmidamental idea. In Washmgton Irving's ' Rip Van 
 Winkle,' the conception of a man coming back to life after many 
 years of sleep, which seemed but a day to hunself, with all the 
 misunderstandings resulting, is consistently worked out. Keats's 
 'Endymion' is deficient in consistent adherence to a definite con- 
 ception of his imaginary world. 
 
 But, further, there must be overpowering interest in the representa- 
 tions ; that is to say, they must satisfy the laws that regulate the rise 
 of emotion, its maintenance, its remission and its subsidence. Mere 
 intellectual consistency is not enough. The ' Midsummer Night's 
 Dream ' and the ' Faerie Queene ' sustain this interest by their poetic 
 beauty. 
 
 5. The Ideal is powerfully helped hy distance, ob- 
 scurity and mystery. Everything then favours and 
 nothing checks the outgoings of the imagination. 
 
 The slightest touch of remoteness in place or in time is 
 apt to have thrilling influence. A good example is afforded 
 iu Wordsworth's lines : — 
 
 Will no one tell me what she sings ? 
 
 Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow 
 For old, unhappy, far-off tilings, 
 
 And battles long ago. 
 
 The famous ' Ode on Immortality ' is, from its subject, 
 adapted to the suggestiveness and charm of Eemoteness ; 
 and the poet works up the effect accordingly. 
 
 It is in the far Past, that poets have located the Golden 
 Age : to be reproduced somehow in a distant or millennial 
 future. 
 
 The mixture of the supernatural with the natural, as in 
 nearly all ancient poetry, and in 'Paradise Lost,' destroys 
 the sense of reality, except in so far as the poet makes his 
 personages work according to human analogies, and provides
 
 42 AIDS TO QUALITIES — IDEALITY. 
 
 expression for human situations. The Homeric Greeks 
 treated the Deities as actual beings, and the Iliad as a 
 representation of actual transactions, slightly coloured. 
 With us, to introduce a supernatural agent, like Hamlet's 
 ghost, is almost to take away our sense of actual life. If 
 we see a murderer found out by everyday means, we are 
 warned of the risks attending the crime ; but if a ghost from 
 the other world is necessary, we either treat the story as a 
 mere play of imagination, or draw the lesson that murder 
 may pass undetected. 
 
 6. By a nearly total abnegation of the Ideal, we may 
 still achieve what is termed Kealistic Art. This de- 
 pends for its effects on successful Imitation. 
 
 Eealisra, in its inartistic sense, is truth to fact, irrespec- 
 tive of agreeable or disagreeable consequences. In this 
 sense, to call a work too ' realistic ' is to imply that the 
 harsh or repulsive features of a coarse original have nob 
 been withdrawn, covered over, or softened by appropriate 
 handhng. The murder of Desdemona on the stage, with 
 scarcely any concealment, is usually considered a piece oi 
 admissible realism. 
 
 There is another kind of realism, truly artistic in its 
 character, where literality is sought in order to display the 
 power of imitation. Poetry is one of the Imitative Fine 
 Arts. Its subjects are largely derived from nature and 
 life. Now, the skill shown by an artist in imitating or 
 representing natural appearances, or incidents, on canvas, 
 in marble, or in language, is a new^ and distinct effect, which 
 excites pleasure and admiration ; truth in Art is then a name 
 for minute observation, and for the adapting of a foreign 
 material to reproduce some original. This makes the 
 Eealistic school of Art : in Painting, Hogarth and Wilkie 
 are examples ; in Poetry, Crabbe is a notable instance ; 
 while in Prose Piction, the modern tendency is all in 
 the realistic direction. 
 
 The Kealistic artist can afford to be so far truthful as 
 not to mislead us with vain expectations. Standing mainly 
 upon the interest of exact imitation, or fidelity to his 
 original, he does not need to leave out the disagreeables and 
 drawbacks inseparable from things in the actual.
 
 OBIGINALITY A CONDITION OF GREATNESS, 43 
 
 NOVELTY. 
 
 1. Under the head of Novelty, we inchide, also, 
 Variety, Eemission and Proportional presentation. 
 The highest form is expressed by Originality. 
 
 Novelty is not itself properly an emotion, like Love 
 Eevenge or Fear ; it is the expression of the highest force 
 of all stimulants when newly applied. 
 
 In the real world, few things have the same eiTect after 
 repetition. So in language ; it is usually on the first en- 
 counter of a striking image or thought, that the resulting 
 charm is at the highest. Novelty is the condition of many 
 of our chief pleasures. 
 
 The literary works that have fascinated mankind, and 
 earned the lofty title of genius, have abounded in strokes of 
 invention or originality : witness Homer, .^schylus, Plato, 
 Lucretius, Virgil, Horace, Dante, Chaucer, Spenser, Shake- 
 speare, Milton, Dryden, De Foe, Pope, Swift, Addison, Gray, 
 Goethe, Scott, Byron, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Shelley, 
 Keats. No combination of other merits could place any one 
 in the first rank of poetic fame. 
 
 2. Originality is qnahfied by the demands of the 
 other conditions of Style. 
 
 A distinction has always been made between Invention 
 and Eefinement or Polish ; some writers excelling in one, 
 and some in the other. It has been usual to represent this 
 distinction as one of the points in the comparison of Homer 
 and Virgil. Among moderns, Shakespeare is pre-eminent in 
 Originality, while occasionally deficient in the arts that con- 
 stitute Elegance. Mihon combines both merits. Shelley's 
 great poetic force belongs rather to Invention than to 
 Polish ; Gray is remarkable for attention to the arts con- 
 stituting Elegance and Eefinement. Seeing that we must 
 take poets as they are, we have to accept superiority in the 
 one excellence as atoning for inferiority in the other. 
 
 3. Next to absolute originality is Variety, or the 
 due alternation of effects. 
 
 Apart from entire novelty, we may derive enjoyment by 
 remitting, varying or alternating modes of agreeable stimula- 
 tion. After a sufQcient interval, one can take delight in
 
 44 AIDS TO QUALITIES —NOVELTY. 
 
 revisiting impressive scenes, and in re-perusing great literary 
 compositions. 
 
 4. Variety is sought in all the constituents of style. 
 The frequent recurrence of the same sound is unpleasing, 
 
 Hence it is a law of melody to alternate the letters of the 
 alphabet. (See Melody.) 
 
 So in Metres. While each metre has a definite form, 
 not to be departed from, there may be a great many 
 variations within that form. Shakespeare excels every other 
 writer of blank verse in ringing changes within the type. 
 
 5. The varying of Words is a means of rhetorical 
 effect. 
 
 The following is an example from Helps : 
 
 ' The voyage is recommenced. They sail by the sandy shore of 
 Araya, see the lofty cocoa-nut trees that stand over Cumana, 
 pursue their icay along that beautiful coast, noticing the Piritu palm 
 of Maracapana, then traverse the difficult waters of the gloomy 
 Golofo Triste, pass the province of Venezuela, catch a glimpse of the 
 white smnmits of the mountains above Santa Martha, continue on 
 their course to Darien, now memorable for the failure of so many 
 gi-eat enterprises— and still no temple, no great idol, no visible 
 creed, no cultus.' 
 
 The studied variation of the terms is often carried too far ; and 
 there is seen in some eminent writers a readiness to incur repeti- 
 tion to a degree that wovild once have been reckoned inelegant. 
 In this sentence from Macaulay, we find both variety and repeti- 
 tion : ' As there is no stronger sign of a mmd destitute of the 
 poetical faculty than the tendency to turn images into abstractions — 
 Minerva, for example, into Wisdom —so there is no stronger sign of 
 a mind truly poetical than a disposition to reverse the process, and to 
 make individuals out of generalities '. 
 
 Copiousness of language is thus a condition of literary 
 genius. Here also Shakespeare stands pre-eminent ; his 
 superiority being shown by a numerical computation of 
 his vocabulary. It has been remarked of Victor Hugo that 
 the number of words used in his writings is very great in 
 comparison with other French writers. 
 
 The demand for copiousness and variety of diction is 
 opposed to the prescription, sometimes given, to adhere 
 as closely as possible to our purely Saxon vocabulary. Even 
 when Saxon tei-ms are adequate to express our meaning, we 
 need not always forbid ourselves the use of the classical 
 equivalents.
 
 SCOPE FOR VABIETY. 45 
 
 6. Variety is sought also in the length and structure 
 of Sentences. 
 
 However well composed an author's sentences may be, 
 the frequent repetition of the same form becomes wearisome ; 
 the more so, if the form is marked in character. 
 
 There is a manifest overdoing of one type in the curt 
 sentences of Channing and of Macaulay, and in the artificial 
 balancing of Johnson, and his imitator, Gibbon. 
 
 7. Alternation is requisite in Figurative effects. 
 
 It is an abuse to deal exclusively in any one figure; 
 while figures altogether may be out of proportion. In 
 the Philippics of Demosthenes, the Interrogation occurs too 
 frequently. Pope's Epigrams are carried to excess. The 
 interest of a composition may be best sustained by employ- 
 ing all the Figures in due alternation ; now a simile or a 
 metaphor, at another time a metonymy, then a contrast, 
 again an epigram, a hyperbole, an interrogation or a 
 chmax. 
 
 8. Still wider in sweep is the demand for varying 
 the Interest as a Whole. 
 
 To impart the highest enjoyment by a verbal composi- 
 tion, or any other production of art, it is necessary to work 
 upon the most powerful feelings of the mind. This does 
 not exclude the appeal to the less powerful. On the con- 
 trary, every legitimate source of interest should be drawn 
 upon, with the understanding that the space occupied is 
 exactly in proportion to the value as interest. The love 
 passion being, in every respect, a first-class emotion, it 
 occupies a leading place in poetic story. Nevertheless, it is 
 intermitted, and alternated, not merely with other first-class 
 emotions, as malignity, but with minor forms of interest, such 
 as the common utilities of life ; and if these are dwelt upon 
 only in proportion to their degree of charm, their intro- 
 duction is so much gain. 
 
 It is possible to protract the glow of any single passion, by 
 varying its embodiment, or multiplying its situations, acces- 
 sories and surroundings, — as in the invention of a complex 
 plot. This is one of the many forms of poetic invention. 
 
 It is only after reviewing the special qualities of style 
 that the various kinds of interest can be classified and their
 
 46 AIDS TO QUALITIES— ACTION AND PLOT. 
 
 respective values assigned. The best criterion of interest is 
 endurance without weariness. Mr. Matthew Arnold is fond 
 of quoting a Greek proverb — ' Tell me a good thing twice '. 
 As individuals differ greatly in their susceptibility to every 
 kind of emotion, the measure of the degree is the time of 
 endurance with pleasure. 
 
 An important part of literary criticism consists in tracing 
 ttie adoption of figures and other effects already used, but 
 with improvements in the application of them. This is one 
 of the forms of refinement in poetical art. Gray is a well- 
 known example ; his images are in many instances borrowed, 
 but with more or less of gain in the new setting. 
 
 ACTION AND PLOT. 
 
 1. In addition to the recognized importance of nar- 
 rated Action in evolving the emotions, we have to take 
 note of the peculiar feeling of suspense, commonly called 
 the interest of Plot. 
 
 In following most narratives, our attention is kept alive 
 by a desire to learn the conclusion ; and the attitude of 
 suspense is accompanied by a peculiar emotional condition 
 w'hose recurrence is counted among our undying pleasures. 
 This interest was adopted into poetry from the very earliest 
 days ; and its modes have been cultivated both in Poetry 
 and in Prose Fiction to a high degree. A plot is essential to 
 the novel or romance, although writers differ greatly in the 
 complexity and ingenuity of their plots. The construction 
 of a plot is well known to be a perpetual demand upon the 
 ingenuity of authors of fictitious tales ; readers being already 
 familiar with so many existing ones. 
 
 2. The leading conditions of plot interest are : — 
 
 (1) Uncertainty in regard to the issue of events in pro- 
 gress. This IS the most essential and universal require- 
 ment. 
 
 (2) The feelings have to be aroused in favour of a 
 particular issue. A moderate degree of preference for one 
 conclusion keeps up the agreeable suspense ; w^iile utter 
 indifference to the termination would invalidate the effect. 
 
 (3) The conchisioi) is protracted so as to give scope for 
 the attitude of suspense.
 
 REQUISITES OP A GOOD PLOT. 47 
 
 (4) It is usual to supply fluctuating indications, whereby 
 the probable issue is made to flit about in different direc- 
 tions. In this way the pleasurable excitement is prolonged 
 and increased. Nevertheless, the interest in the final issue 
 must not be so intense that unfavourable omens will be felt 
 as simply painful. We can afford a certain lowering of the 
 chances of the side we prefer, with an adequate compensa- 
 tion in the rebound of final success. 
 
 The trial scene in the * Merchant of Venice ' is a case of 
 tension carried to the extreme point of endurance. 
 
 (5) If the end can be made a surprise after all, while still 
 agreeing with our wishes and feelings, the effect is all the 
 greater. 
 
 Plot is not merely an independent means of interest ; it 
 also affords scope for the evolution of the intense emotions. 
 Ill is, moreover, a collateral means of attaining unity in 
 narrative composition. 
 
 When plot is wanting, the interest of a poem must be 
 supported by the power of the isolated passages. Speaking 
 of Young's 'Night Thoughts,' Campbell remarks — 'The poem 
 excites no anticipation as it proceeds '. ' The power of the 
 poet instead of " he?nr/ in the whole" lies in short, vivid and 
 broken gleams of genius.' 
 
 In History, no less than in Poetry and Fiction, the 
 interest of a plot may be developed. The historian is limited 
 to his facts, but these may be so arranged as either to 
 gain, or else to lose, the interest of plot ; and the same 
 thing applies to the narration of the simplest story. 
 
 EEFINEMENT. 
 
 1. By the aid of poetic handling, the ^ossness of 
 the strong animal passions can be transformed and 
 converted into Eefined Pleasuee. 
 
 Such feelings as the sensuality of love and eating, or 
 the coarser forms of malevolence, are not accepted in polite 
 literature. It is possible, nevertheless, to make them yield 
 products not unsuitable to the purest poetry. 
 
 The gross pleasures, in their naked presentation, are not 
 merely objectionable on moral grounds : they have the 
 further defect of being violent and therefore transient. To 
 moderate and prolong their agreeable tremor, is one of the
 
 48 AIDS TO QUALITIES — BEFINEMENT. 
 
 achievements of Art in general, and of Poetry in particular. 
 It is this operation that gives another meaning to the mode 
 of defining poetry by help of the term ' spirituahzing '. 
 
 The principal examples are the following: Eating and 
 Drinking; Sexual Love; Malevolence; Tender Feeling; 
 together with Utilities of the grosser kind, as the appliances 
 for removing filth, and for the treatment of diseases. 
 
 The refining process also finds scope in the emotion of 
 Fear; mitigating the painful effects, and distilhng out of 
 them small portions of pleasure. 
 
 2. The methods that have ah'eady come mider 
 review, for this object, are chiefly these : 
 
 (1) The Euphemism (Pabt Fiest, p. 183). The primary 
 intention of this figure is to keep out of view a repulsive or 
 painful subject that must nevertheless be referred to. The 
 method employed— namely, to point to something different, 
 which, however, in the circumstances, lets the true meaning 
 be known — apphes to the palliation of coarse effects gener- 
 ally. 
 
 (2) Innuendo or Suggestion (p. 212). This states more 
 precisely the operation implied in the euphemism. When 
 the wholesale slaughter of human beings would excite 
 revulsion and disgust, it is left to distant suggestion ; thus, 
 a sanguinary battle is described as being attended with 
 ' considerable loss '. An agonizing struggle is simply ' pain- 
 ful '. Swift's cannibal proposals regarding Irish children 
 are too horrible either for a jest or for irony ; but he throws 
 a veil over them, by using the language of the shambles, and 
 making us think rather of calves and lambs. 
 
 (3) The Ideal. It is the nature of Ideality in Poetry to 
 put everything in the most favourable aspect to suit our 
 feeling. The grossness of eating is done away with in the 
 feasts of the pagan gods, and in the nutriment of the angels 
 in Milton. 
 
 (•1) Harmony (see p. 34). 
 
 (5) Plot. The operation of plot has been already ex- 
 plained ; as also its magical power of protracting our enjoy- 
 ment in connexion with the stronger passions (p. 46). 
 The interest of a romance is spread over numerous details, 
 before reaching the denouement. 
 
 3. The following are additional arts of Kefinement :
 
 ARTS OF EEFINEMENT. 49 
 
 (1) The various devices of Language contribute largely 
 to the moderating and protracting of our strong passions. 
 Metre is known to exercise a control over the violence of the 
 feelings ; so the polish, elegance, splendour and elevation 
 of the language generally, impart an agreeable diversion of 
 mind, which calms the fury of the excitement. The 
 ceremonial of worship is calculated to convert an outburst of 
 religious emotion into a gentle a*nd enduring flame. Polished 
 circumlocution is one of the habitual means of cooling the 
 heat engendered by the war of words in debate. To call atten- 
 tion to beauties of pure form, is to draw off the mind from 
 the grosser aspects of things ; as in the Greek sculpture. 
 
 (2) Eeviewing the chief methods for attaining the desired 
 end, we find them summed up under Mixture, with which 
 is included Diversion and Dilution.* 
 
 For example, eating and drinking, though highly 
 important to us in the reality, and interesting even to think 
 of, are too purely sensual to be treated in art, unless by 
 being imbedded in surroundings that divide our regards. 
 Homer has abundance of feasting, but it is either in 
 connexion with sacrifices to the gods, or mixed up with 
 hospitality, which was equally sacred in his eyes. 
 
 So the Trojan War involves untold miseries; but Achilles, 
 the author of the misery, is shown to have an amiable side. 
 This does not remove the painful elements, any more than 
 the stimulus of tea is abolished by the softening addition of 
 sugar and milk. But the consequence is to reconcile us to 
 an amount of malignant pleasure that, in its unmixed form, 
 would grate on other sensibilities of the mind. 
 
 4. Fear unalloyed is a painful passion, and ministers 
 to pleasure only by reaction. 
 
 For abating the pain of the state itself, and for enhanc- 
 ing the pleasurable rebound, the artist has recourse to 
 fictitious terrors, as in Tragedy. The foregoing arts of 
 mixture, dilution and diversion are available to qualify the 
 painful side, while allowing the pleasure to spring from the 
 remission or relief. 
 
 * There is an illustrative parallel to this in the practice of using sugar and milk 
 with tea. Many persons cannot partake of the .stimulation, if the tea is given by 
 itself ; even dilution would not overcome the repugnance. The mixture has the 
 ha|ipy effect of leaving the stimulus in full foice, while yet .so diverting and 
 otherwise engaging the organ of tajste, that the harshness proper to the tea by 
 itself is no longer discerned.
 
 50 AIDS TO QUALITIES —CHARACTERS. 
 
 CHAEACTEKS. 
 
 1. Character is the continuous and consistent em- 
 bodiment and manifestation of personal feelings and 
 doings. 
 
 While every action of a person operates on the spectator 
 according to its own nature, and is so judged, there is a cer- 
 tain harmony in the conduct of individuals, which is desig- 
 nated their Character. 
 
 The interest attaching to isolated displays is multiplied 
 by repetition, and makes the collective interest of a per- 
 sonality. Our admiration of a single act of nobleness is 
 transformed into a new product, admiration of the nobleness 
 of a life. The principles of critical judgment are the same 
 for both cases. 
 
 2. The treatment of Character in Art involves 
 regard to consistency in its development. 
 
 When a character is introduced in narrative, we expect 
 it to agree with itself, or to be in accordance with the type 
 intended by the author. 
 
 3. The choice of Characters is not limited to intrinsic 
 attractions. 
 
 Among characters intrinsically attractive, we place, first, 
 those that rise above the ordinary in any form of excellence 
 —physical, moral or intellectual. Among the least tolerable 
 are the purely common-place. 
 
 The physically defective, the morally bad, the intel- 
 lectually stupid,— would all seem in poetry, as in real life, 
 naturally devoid of interest, not to say repellent. Yet, by 
 particular kinds of management, even these can be made to 
 enter into art-compositions. 
 
 Among the most mournful incidents of our precarious 
 existence, is the loss of reason. Looked at in itself, the 
 spectacle of insanity ought to give us only unmingled pain : 
 our pity yields no adequate compensation for the shock to 
 our feelmgs. Yet, the insane have been frequently employed 
 for poetic purposes. In the ancient world, a certain mysteri- 
 ous reverence was maintained towards them : they were 
 supposed to be inspired by some good or bad demon. Even 
 when viewed more literally, they can be made use of as au 
 illustration of the tragic consequences of crime and calamity. 
 Their incoherent utterances are shaped so as to have some
 
 INTEEESTING AND UNINTERESTING CHAEACTEE3. 51 
 
 bearing on the progress of a story. We need refer only to 
 Shakespeare's Hamlet and Lear. 
 
 Not far removed in point of misfortune is idiotcy ; yet 
 this is also tm-ned to account. If the subject is amiable, 
 our pity warms into affection ; if the opposite, the idiot 
 may still be made use of, as an instrument of punishment 
 and annoyance to those that deserve such treatment. The 
 half-witted fool or jester, with his ingenious, irresponsible 
 sallies, was once a favourite in courts. Nevertheless, an 
 idiot as such is not a subject of interest ; and Coleridge 
 charges Wordsworth's treatment of his ' Idiot Boy ' with 
 serious defects. 
 
 Poverty and squalor are of themselves repellent ; and 
 are admissible only by the help of special management. 
 When the poor exemplify the amiable and self-denying 
 virtues, they command respect. Their condition can also 
 be redeemed by the display of contented mirth and jollity, 
 as by Burns in ' The Jolly Beggars ' ; or by heroic defiance — 
 ' A man's a man for a' that '. A king reduced to poverty, like 
 ffidipus, is a tragic hero. Abundant effects of the humorous 
 have often been derived from the class. 
 
 Silliness would seem the most intractable of all qualities. 
 Yet, silly persons are often rendered interesting, their silli- 
 ness being skilfully guided for effect ; as in Shakespeare's 
 Justice Shallow, Slender, and his host of clowns. Marlowe's 
 Mycetes, in the ' Tambulaine,' is a purely silly character, 
 and being unredeemed by treatment, is only irritating. 
 
 Badness or criminality can be employed in order to set 
 off the good, and to give scope for signal retribution. Tra- 
 gedy requires distinguished crimes as a part of its essence. 
 Even such a crabbed personage as Thersites, in the Uiud, 
 becomes interesting by the condign and summary punish- 
 ment administered by Ulysses : but for which the character 
 would have been inadmissible. 
 
 While the range of interesting characters is necessarily 
 great, when they are rightly handled, it does not follow, as 
 is sometimes said, that all characters are alike interesting 
 if fully revealed. 
 
 The multiplication and harmonious unfolding of character 
 types is one of the great achievements of literature. To the 
 characters actually presented in History, has been added 
 an equal number, of not inferior interest, in Poetry and 
 Fiction.
 
 52 AIDS TO QUALITIES — SUBJECTS. 
 
 SUBJECTS. 
 
 The emotional effects of Art compositions are due in 
 part to the Subjects chosen. 
 
 The Subjects of the poetic art are partly Humanity and 
 partly what lies beyond it — Animal and Vegetable life, and 
 the Inanimate world at large. In both spheres, there are 
 numerous objects calculated to inspire agreeable emotion, 
 however unadorned may be their language dress. The poet 
 naturally prefers to deal with this class of things. 
 
 Nevertheless, circumstances may lead to the adoption 
 of less suitable subjects : either such as contribute nothing 
 to the pleasure, or such as have the opposite effect. It 
 happens with themes once attractive, that their day of 
 interest has passed. Neither the Iliad nor Pamrh'se Lost 
 now possesses the charm that they originally had ; and to 
 future ages their story may be still more repugnant. 
 
 Hence, it becomes a part of the criticism of a work 
 of art, to regard first the subject in its own character, 
 before it has been touched by the poet's hand. This 
 enables us to view in separation the combined genius and 
 devices of the treatment, which is alone the measure of 
 poetic power. 
 
 Many discussions have arisen as to the fitness of certain 
 subjects for the Grand Epic, commonly reputed the highest 
 of all the kinds of poetry. Milton is understood to have 
 hesitated in his choice before fixing on the 'Fall of Man'. 
 One of his rejections — ' The Eomance of Arthur and the 
 Eound Table ' — has been adopted by Tennyson, although 
 in a form different from the Grand Epic. 
 
 Some of Wordsworth's subjects have been felt as a drag, 
 rather than an aid, to his poetical success. (See p. 51.) 
 
 The Ilenriade of Voltaire is condemned by Mr. Morley, 
 on the ground of inadequacy of the subject for Epic treat- 
 ment. In comparison with the Iliad or Paradise Lost, it is 
 obviously deficient in grandeur of events — in heroic per- 
 sonages, great battles, crimes, disasters and revolutionary 
 changes. 
 
 The remarks already made on Character bear principally 
 upon fitness or unfitness for poetic treatment. The con- 
 sideration of Subject ranges still wider, and includes scenery, 
 incident and juxtaposition of parts in completed works.
 
 PEOGRESS OF INTEREST IN NATURE. 53 
 
 In the subsequent consideration of the special Quahties 
 of Style, the laws of emotional effect will apply alike to the 
 subjects chosen, and to the manner of handling them. The 
 qualifications and disqualifications of particular subjects 
 will be apparent, when their emotional bearing is under- 
 stood. There will also be seen the poet's art in over- 
 coming defects, by suitable selection and adaptation to the 
 end in view. 
 
 Natuee as a Subject. 
 
 Humanity is assumed throughout as the main theme of 
 poetical art. Yet in the world are to be found many other 
 topics, — partly interesting in themselves, and partly re- 
 flecting the interest proper to human beings. 
 
 The topic of Nature interest has been lately reviewed by 
 Professor Veitch, with much illustrative fulness, although with 
 special reference to Scottish Poetry. As moi-e or less pervading 
 the works of great poets, it has to be reckoned with in the Khe- 
 torical art, among the sources of artistic emotion. It will be 
 adverted to in connexion with the leading qualities of style ; never- 
 theless, as a preparation in advance, we may make the following 
 general remarks. 
 
 (1) The earliest form of the poetic interest in nature is the 
 alliance with the utilities of life, as in the celebration of the objects 
 of agricultural uaterest, — the rich pastures, fertile fields and run- 
 ning streams, the trees that give fruit and shade, the animals 
 that are in tlie service of man. This is the stage of Theocritus 
 and Virgil. It implies, further, a revulsion from the intractable 
 and desert tracts, with their ruthless tenantry of savage animals. 
 The grand forces of nature on their genial side — the simshiue 
 and the fertilizing rain — woidd contribute to the agreeable picture. 
 
 (2) The next stage is the purely disinterested pleasiure in 
 nature, not depending on the yield of material products, and not 
 confined to the fruitful land and the helping animals. This is a far 
 higher stretch of imaginative interest, and supposes a great 
 advance in the control of natural powers. As a problem of the 
 workmgs of the human mind, it is extremely subtle and compli- 
 cated ; and the best clue to its workings is the expression that it 
 has prompted in the most susceptible minds. In the first place, 
 the aspects of Nature furnish a considerable stock of gratification 
 for the higher senses — sight and hearing. The variegated colouring 
 of earth and sky, of plant and animal life ; the somids of the 
 breeze, the waters and the birds, — give pleasm'e as mere sense 
 stimulation. 
 
 Much more influential, however, is the suggestion of human 
 aspects by the personifying tendency already discussed (p. 21). It
 
 54 AIDS TO QUALITIES — SUBJECTS. 
 
 is not simply the likeness to humanity traceable in material 
 objects viewed in repose, it is the far wider range of likeness in 
 the motions and changes that these undergo. The movements of 
 the sun in his daily and yearly rounds can be used to body forth 
 himaan life, notwithstanding the disparity of the things compared. 
 So with the flow of rivers, and all the multiplied displays of 
 atmospheric effect. 
 
 The subtle references to human feelings have even a still 
 larger scope. Much stress is laid by Professor Veitch on the sug- 
 gestion of the free, as givmg the charm to wild nature. The re- 
 action from the multiplied restraints of artificial life yields a 
 joyous rebound of deliverance, and is regarded as such in the 
 forms of poetical expression. 
 
 Euskin tells us that his love of Nature, ardent as it is, depends 
 entirel}' on the wildness of the scenery — its remoteness from human 
 influences and associations. 
 
 Yet fm-ther. Not content with tracing resemblances to 
 humanity as such, the poet has often striven to involve the Deity 
 with Nature suggestion. The oldest and most prevalent form of 
 this reference is to I'ise from the world to its Creator, as m Addi- 
 son's hymn. A more subtle kind of reference consists in regarding 
 the Deity as 'immanent' or mdwellmg, and nature as His garment 
 or expression : as may be seen in Goethe, and still more in Words- 
 worth. To this effect, the name ' Symbolism ' is applied. It 
 completes the develox^ment of nature interest through the sugges- 
 tion of personality. 
 
 We have in Pope : — 
 
 All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
 Whose body Nature is, and God the soul. 
 Wordsworth thus introduces the sea : — 
 
 Listen ! the mighty Being is awake. 
 And doth with His eternal motion make 
 A sound like thunder everlastingly. 
 
 (3) It is by minds unusually sensitive and able to express their 
 feelings in the poetic garb, that the mass of mankind are slowly 
 educated to the enjoyment of Nature : a circumstance that 
 indicates the risks encountered by the natiu-e poet. To the 
 average reader the language used must often seem extravagant or 
 hyi:)erbolical : and the resoiu'ces of genius and art are needed by 
 way of redemption. 
 
 (4) The treatment of Nature takes two distinct forms. The 
 one consists in making it a main theme, as in Thomson's ' Seasons,' 
 in the poems devoted to particuhir flowers or animals, and in 
 depicting scenes of grandeur or beauty, as Mont Blanc. The other 
 form is the employment of interesting natural objects as orna- 
 ment, or harmonious accompaniments and suiToundings of human 
 situations. The last is the more usual, but there is no difference 
 between them in the conditions for securing the desired effect.
 
 STEENGTH. 
 
 Strength, or the Suhhme, as a qnahty of style, 
 consists in producing by language the grateful emotions 
 attending the manifestation of superior might. 
 
 The term Sublimity, or the Sublime, is commonly applied 
 to the highest kinds of Strength. There are other names 
 indicative of the quality, in various aspects and degrees — 
 Loftiness, Grandeur, Magnificence ; Brilliancy, Animation, 
 Liveliness, Vivacity ; Force, Energy, Vigour, Verve. The 
 last of these groups might be regarded either as the lower 
 forms of Strength, or as the emotional aspects of the quality 
 designated ' Impressiveness ' . 
 
 In the celebrated treatise of Longinus On the SiiNwie, the term 
 (u\//-'js) is used in a wide sense, being equivalent to emotional elevation 
 of style generally. 
 
 Sublimity is often contrasted with Beauty, both being excellency of 
 style. The more significant contrast is between Strength or the Su- 
 blime and Feelmg or Pathos. The sphere most pro^oerly assigned to 
 Beauty will be considered at a later stage. 
 
 One important accompaniment of Sublimity is the infinite or 
 illimitable character of its objects. According to Professor Veitch, this 
 is inseparable from the quality. Yet Strength, as active energy, has 
 many degrees before we reach the forms that transcend our faculties of 
 comprehension ; and poetry recognizes all the modes. Nevertheless, 
 there is a distinctive impression arising from objects in their nature 
 unbomided ; and a certain art is required to guide this into pleasurable 
 channels. 
 
 Sublimity has always been regarded as pre-eminently 
 a product of Art generally, and not of Poetry alone. A 
 study of the best examples will show that it is not a simple 
 result, but an aggregate of many effects. The one thing 
 constantly present is the embodiment of vast or superior 
 power. This, however, seldom stands alone. The various 
 consequences of the power are often what makes the chief 
 impression. 
 
 These consequences, when pleasurable, consist in grati- 
 fying some of our chief emotions, such as Love, Malevolence
 
 56 STRENGTH — SUBJECTS. 
 
 and the various forms of Self-interest. In comparison with 
 these, the feehng of manifested strength in itseh would seem 
 a slender gratification. Nay, more : we can but seldom 
 obtain the picture of strength in this pure and abstract 
 form ; even when we think we obtain it, we are not sure but 
 that a tacit reference to the possible emotional outgoing 
 enters into the pleasm-e it gives. 
 
 The order of treatment best adapted to guide us in the 
 exhaustive criticism of the literature of Strength, is assumed 
 to be as follows : — 
 
 1. The Subjects of Sti'ength, taken in classes. 
 
 2. The Constituents of Strength, as shown by the final 
 analysis of the quality. This will determine its most 
 characteristic Forms and Conditions, and will be a suitable 
 basis for the exemplification in detail. 
 
 3. The Vocabulary of Strength : the groundwork of its 
 successful embodiment in language. 
 
 4. Other Aids and Conditions, including those that all 
 the qualities have in common, and those referring to 
 Strength in particular. 
 
 5. Passages examined. 
 
 SUBJECTS OF STRENGTH. 
 
 1. In illustrating the various ways of embodying 
 Strength as a literary quality, we consider, first, the 
 Subjects of it. These are either Personal or Im- 
 personal. 
 
 The Subjects of Strength are powerful and commanding 
 agencies of every kind, whether physical or mental. 
 
 PERSONAL PHYSICAL STREXGTH. 
 
 2. Our interest in Persons comprises all the appear- 
 ances of superior might, in any of its modes — Physical, 
 Moral, Intellectual. 
 
 In the actual display of great personal power, we are 
 moved, as mere spectators, to a pleasing admiration ; while, 
 through the medium of language, we may derive a share of 
 the same grateful excitement. 
 
 Men, in all ages, have been affected by the sight of great 
 physical superiority in individuals. When not under fear
 
 THE ATHLETIC FIGUKE. 67 
 
 for themselves, they have beheld, with a certain disinterested 
 admiration and deUght, the form and bearing of a powerful 
 frame. Not merely in war, but in minor contests of personal 
 superiority, as in games, has been attested the charm of 
 physical prowess. With Homer, renown is attached to all 
 the displays of physical greatness, extending even to the 
 avocations of peaceful industry. His divine and semi-divine 
 personages are admired for purely muscular and mechanical 
 energies ; the mythical Hercules is expressly conceived to 
 gratify the fond imaginations of early ages for such superi- 
 ority. The more powerful animals have contracted an 
 interest from the same cause : as the horse for swiftness and 
 strength ; the elephant for enormous size and muscle ; the 
 lion, the tiger and the bear for concentrated energy. 
 
 The athletic figure, to produce its full effect, must be 
 viewed, either in reality, or as represented in sculpture and 
 painting ; description is ineffectual to produce it. A heroic 
 personage may be pictured as taller by the head than the 
 surrounding multitude, as was said of Saul among the 
 people. In Milton, we find occasionally depicted the com- 
 manding bulk of the Satanic chiefs. For example, of Satan 
 liimself : — 
 
 His other parts besides 
 Prone on the flood, extended long and large, 
 Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge 
 As whom the fables name of monstrous size, 
 Titanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove, 
 Briareos or Typhon. 
 
 On the other side, Satan, alarmed, 
 Collecting all his might, dilated, stood, 
 Like Tenerifi or Atlas, unremoved. 
 His stature reached the sky, and on his crest 
 Sat Horror plumed. 
 
 The poet, however, has a still more excellent resource. 
 Language can assign the results or consequences of great 
 physical energy : striking down rivals in a contest ; over- 
 coming measured resistance ; performing such laborious 
 operations as propelling missiles, working at the oar, sus- 
 taining heavy loads, felling an ox at a blow. The twelve 
 labours of Hercules are reahzable by us through description 
 alone. The formidable personahty of Achilles is conveyed 
 by his being styled swift of foot, and the utterer of a terrible 
 shout ; he is also the irresistible slayer of the most powerful 
 of his enemies. 
 4
 
 53 STRENGTH— SUBJECTS. 
 
 While the production of great eifects (by comparison 
 ■with what is ordinary) is necessarily the surest token of 
 strength, the impression is enhanced by the appearances of 
 ease on the part of the agent. When a small expenditure 
 brings about a great result, our sense of might is at the 
 utmost pitch ; while the opposite case — a great expenditure 
 with small result — is one of the modes of the ridiculous. A 
 large ship carried along by the invisible breeze is a sublime 
 spectacle. The explosion of a mine, or the discharge of a 
 heavy gun by a slight touch, communicates the feeling of 
 power in a high degree. The whole of this class of energies 
 is pre-eminently suited to description. 
 
 Milton abounds in strokes of physical energy on the 
 part of his superhuman personages. Whether these are 
 adequate to their end, depends on their fulfilling the various 
 stringent conditions of an artistic embodiment of strength. 
 
 From their foundations, loosening to and fro, 
 They plucked the seated hills, with all their load, 
 Rocks, waters, woods, and by their shaggy tops 
 Uplifting, bore them in their hands. 
 
 Landor has, in his ' Count Julian,' a fine stroke of 
 
 physical Energy, indicated by consequences and by felicitous 
 
 comparison ; the effect being perhaps all the greater that 
 
 the act is just within the scope of human strength : — 
 
 The hand that hurl'd thy chariot o'er its wheels, 
 That held thy steeds erect and motionless, 
 As molten statues on some palace gate. 
 Shakes as with palsied eye before thee now. 
 
 Chaucer's Miller is a picture of coarse physical energy, 
 supported by poetic arts. 
 
 The description of Geraint, in Tennyson, may also be 
 quoted : — 
 
 And bared the knotted column of his throat, 
 The massive square of his hei'oic breast. 
 And arms on which the standing muscle sloped 
 As slopes a wild brook o'er a little stone, 
 Bunning too vehemently to break upon it. 
 
 The physical power in this instance is portrayed by figm-e 
 alone ; the three circumstances being all significant of a 
 highly muscular frame. 
 
 MORAL STRENGTH. 
 
 3. The term Moral, in contrast to Physical and to 
 Intellectual, embraces our feelings and our voluntary
 
 VAEIETIES OP MOKAL STRENGTH. 59 
 
 impulses. From these, also, we may derive the grateful 
 emotion of Strength. 
 
 A much more varied interest attaches to exceptional 
 displays of moral force or superiority. 
 
 As with the physical, there is an ordinary pitch that 
 excites little or no interest ; only the extraordinary and 
 exalted modes possess the capability of artistic charm. 
 
 It is through the expressed feelings and the voluntary 
 conduct that a human being is a subject of approbation or 
 disapprobation, admiration, esteem, affection or dislike. 
 The quality of Strength deals more exclusively with such 
 feelings and conduct as show active power or moral energy 
 and grandeur; the quality of Tenderness and Pathos, on the 
 other hand, embraces the loveable. 
 
 What we may define as Moral Strength is the influence 
 that lifts us, through our sympathies, into a higher moral 
 being. Three marked forms may be stated. 
 
 (1) The influence of cheerfulness or buoyancy, under 
 circumstances more or less depressing. When we ourselves 
 are depressed, the demeanour of a cheerful person, if there is 
 nothing objectionable attending it, is a sustaining and elating 
 influence. 
 
 (2) The moral strength of superiority to passing impulses, 
 in the pursuit of great objects. Greatest of all is the con- 
 tinued endurance of toil and fatigue, as in the Homeric 
 Ulysses, and in the much-suffering heroes of all ages. The 
 persistence of an Alexander, a Caesar or a Columbus, has 
 often worked on inferior minds as a mental tonic. 
 
 To be enslaved by appetite and passion and every 
 transient impulse, is a prevailing weakness. The few that are 
 entirely exempted from it are regarded with admiring sur- 
 prise, and their delineation by the poetic pen is an agreeable 
 picture of moral strength ; inducing in us both the wish to 
 imitate them, and the temporary consciousness of superiority 
 to our usual self. 
 
 (3) Greatest of all is the surrender of self to the welfare 
 of others. Self-sacrifice is moral heroism, and is applauded 
 in every age. It is the feature that gives nobility to 
 courage in war. It makes martyrdom illustrious. It is the 
 recommendation of the austere sects in philosophy and in 
 religion. The preference of public well-being to private 
 affections is the form that belongs principally to strength ;
 
 60 STRENGTH — SUBJECTS. 
 
 SO also the superiority to the pomps, shows and vanities 
 that delight and engross the average human being. Pope's 
 ' Man of Koss ' is a notable rendering of this kind of moral 
 worth. 
 
 Heroic daring in war is the form of moral strength that 
 first received the attention of poets ; and it is still a princi- 
 pal theme. 
 
 One great and notable form of moral grandeur is expressed by 
 the term Passion. The Greek tragedians, according to Milton, 
 were noted for their mastery of high passion. They set forth 
 the qualities both of Strength and of Pathos, in their most 
 intense manifestations. These passionate outbursts have 
 always had a great charm for mankmd; but they demand 
 skilful and artistic management. A human being, aroused into 
 unusual fervour, sympathetically arouses the beholders ; and to 
 be more than ordinarily excited is an occasional, although 
 not a necessary, cause of pleasure. A coarse, tumultuous ex- 
 citement has very httle value : there must be a well-marked 
 passion ; the passion itself must be of the strong kind, or a foil to 
 some strong passion. When the expression is by language, the 
 terms must have the requisite appropriateness, combined with in- 
 tensity, as in the great examples of tragedy, ancient and modern. 
 A clear, full, undistracted and adequate rendering of the outward 
 display most characteristic of each passion is aimed at on the 
 stage, and applies alike to the language employed, and to the 
 actor's embodiment as witnessed by the eye. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL STRENGTH. 
 
 4. Intellectual Superiority assumes well - marked 
 forms : the Genius for Government, War, Industi-y ; 
 Oratory or Persuasion, Poetry or other Fine Art ; 
 Science. 
 
 Eulogy of intellectual greatness, poetically adorned, 
 awakens in us the sympathetic emotion of Strength. Great 
 discoverers, as Aristotle, Copernicus, Newton, Harvey or 
 Watt, receive pagans of praise, couched in the highest strains 
 of poetry. Still more loud and prolonged are the eulogies 
 of kings, warriors and statesmen ; the beginnings of which 
 are seen in Homer. Most emphatic, and most felicitous of 
 all, are tlie praises of poets, by each other : Gray's ' Pro- 
 gress of Poesy ' is one of a hundred examples. 
 
 Pope's 'Temple of Fame' is perhaps the most elaborate 
 and comprehensive laudation of the intellectual genius of 
 former ages. It is made up almost purely of poetic touches
 
 CELEBRATION OP GENIUS. 61 
 
 —similes and picturesque settings,— and can be judged by 
 the laws that govern the propriety of these. His least 
 figurative description is this : — 
 
 Superior, and alone, Confucius stood, 
 
 Who taught that useful science— to be good. 
 
 The only figure here is a delicate innuendo in describing the 
 science of being good as 'useful'. Otherwise, the couplet 
 is a poet's selection of the most popular and effective point 
 in the system of Confucius. It is aluiost his only instance 
 where the point of eulogy is a literal, or matter-of-fact state- 
 ment. The other heroes are given in the richest poetic garb. 
 Literary power, or the art of Bxpressing and diffusing 
 thoughts, is celebrated in a variety of epigrams. It is said 
 — ' syllables govern the world ' ; ' the pen is mightier than 
 the sword'; 'a book is a church'. These are illustrative 
 of the production of great results from apparently small 
 causes. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL STRENGTH COMBINED. 
 
 5. Many forms of greatness combine Intellectual 
 and Moral superiority. 
 
 Chatham described Clive as ' that heaven-born general, 
 whose magnanimity, resolution, determination and execu- 
 tion would charm a king of Prussia ; and whose presence 
 of mind astonished the Indies '. 
 
 The leader of men needs self-control and a commanding 
 personality, as well as great force of intellect. A Demosthenes, 
 who wielded at will the fierce democi-acy ; a Columbus, who 
 guided a recalcitrant crew over 'Unknown seas ; a Luther, 
 who, from an obscure origin, became a revolutionary power 
 — demand both moral and intellectual gifts, and are eulogized 
 accordingly. 
 
 The charm of Ulysses, in the ' Odyssey,' is the combined 
 intellectual power and moral endurance, so skilfully repre- 
 sented in the fictitious adventures assigned to him. As the 
 hero of ' many wiles,' he initiated a type whose interest will 
 never die. To this is added Horace's condensed eulogy of 
 his moral side {Epistles, I. 2). 
 
 Mythical and Imagined Heroes. — "With these, language is 
 everything. Being so plastic in the hands of a poet or uc- 
 scriber,they are shaped according to purely poetic fancy; and 
 tue bound to exhibit well-selected and combined attributes
 
 62 STKENGTH — SUBJECTS. 
 
 of grandeur harmoniously sustained. When they are made 
 to depart from the human type, their management is ex- 
 ceedingly perilous, and seldom entirely successful ; as can 
 be seen in Paradise Lost, where marvellous occasional 
 strokes are alternated with much that is incoherent, and 
 unsuited to maintain the lofty interest of the poem. The 
 conduct of Homer's deities is often greatly out of keeping 
 with their illustrious position. 
 
 Collective Stremjth. — The highest and most imposing 
 manifestation of strength is seen in the aggregation of 
 human beings in crowds, armies and nations. The wrought- 
 up interest of history is made out of the actions of collective 
 humanity. Wars, conquests, the restraining discipline of 
 mankind, the advances in civilization, are effected by human 
 beings organized under skilled leaders. To express all these 
 various forms of collective energy is the business of the 
 historian, and may be a means of evoking the highest 
 sublime. The loftiest epics involve at once individual 
 supremacy and collective might : the one supposing the 
 other. 
 
 The greatness of kings, generals, ministers of state, 
 party leaders, rests on the national strength at their 
 disposal. 
 
 IMPERSONAL STRENGTH. 
 
 6. The Inanimate world supplies objects for the 
 emotion of the Sublime. 
 
 Under Personification, has been noticed the ascribing of 
 human feelings to the world outside of humanity. By this 
 means, a great extension is given to the reflex intei-est in 
 Strength as a quality. A very large department of nature is 
 characterized by boundless energy, and its contemplation 
 has an elating influence on the mind, which is described by 
 the term Sublimity. 
 
 The great powers of inanimate nature— heat, light, 
 winds, waves, tides, rivers, volcanoes — occupy a place in 
 poetry, through their imposing might. 
 
 There is sublimity in the mountain mass, notwithstand- 
 ing its repose. It represents upheaving energy, with cohesive 
 force, and suggests power on the vastest scale. In its 
 simplicity of form as well as its familiarity, it is suited 
 to easy conception. 
 
 The amplitude of space is allied with the physical
 
 STEENGTH A COMPLEX QUALITY. 63 
 
 sublime ; and language is frequently employed in helping 
 us to conceive its vast dimensions. 
 
 The dimension of height or loftiness, and also abysmal 
 depth, are associated with circumstances of physical force, 
 and inspire corresponding emotions. 
 
 The great works of human industry afford images of 
 power, which, both in the actual view and in the language 
 rendering, are enrolled among the stimulating causes of tlie 
 emotion of Strength. Enormous steam engines, employed 
 in the industries of mankind ; great furnaces, and gun- 
 powder blasting ; huge ships ; and all the permanent pro- 
 ducts of human energy on the great scale, inspire the feeling 
 of superior might. 
 
 Architectural erections are employed in the production 
 of sublimity (as well as beauty), and by adequate descrip- 
 tion can lend the same interest in poetry. By vastness, 
 they affect us with the emotion of power, or the sublime. 
 
 CONSTITUENTS OF STEENGTH. 
 
 1. If Strength be a complex quality, we should en- 
 deavour to assign its constituents. 
 
 In a mixed or aggregate quality, the simple ingredients 
 may be distributed very differently in different examples, 
 rendering all general delineation vague and inapplicable. 
 For each one of the foregoing classes, there will be a wide 
 difference of treatment according to the aspect assumed, or 
 the manner and end of the employment. 
 
 There is such a thing as Strength, by itself, pure and simple ; that 
 is, where the consequences of its employment are not thought of, or 
 not apparent. There are other cases where the results are what chiefly 
 affect us. These results are sometimes beneficent and sometimes 
 maleficent — in either case, appealing to powerful emotions ; and we 
 are bomid to follow out both sets of consequences. 
 
 The obvious arrangement might, therefore, seem to be : 1. Neutral 
 Strength ; 2. Beneficent Strength ; 3. Maleficent Strength. 
 
 In point of fact, however, an opposite order is more suited to the 
 examples, as we find them. Pure strength is but seldom realized in 
 literature ; so much more unction attaches to the emotions roused by 
 the modes of employing it. Hence, the preferable course is to begin 
 by attending to these emotional effects ; after which we can make 
 abstraction of their workings, so as to present the Sublime of Power as 
 nearly as possible in a neutral form. 
 
 The remaming question is as to the priority of Beneficent over 
 Maleficent Strength. In adopting these, as heads, we are necessarily 
 led to consider the emotional results more than the fact of strength.
 
 64 STRENGTH — CONSTITUENTS. 
 
 Now Beneficence is a branch of the comprehensive quality of Feeling, 
 as we propose to treat it, and, therefore, we need not dwell upon it 
 at this stage. The case is different with Maleficence. For reasons 
 that can he assigned, there will not ho a place alloted to it apart 
 from the exposition of Strength. Its close connexion with the active 
 side of our nature would be enough. IMoreover, it does not branch 
 out into numerous relationships, as is the case with Feeling, 
 
 Inasmuch, then, as the malevolent employment of 
 Strength will make the largest part of the discussion of 
 the quality, the order of treatment will be ; 
 I. Maleficent Strength. 
 II. Beneficent Strength. 
 III. Neutral Strength. 
 
 MALEFICENT STEENGTH. 
 
 2. The Infliction of Suffering is to be regarded as 
 one of our pleasures, unless checked by sympathy with 
 the sufferers. 
 
 There is here an opposition between two parts of our 
 nature ; and the devices of art are directed to securing the 
 pleasure with the least offence to the sympathies. 
 
 The difficulty is met in various ways. For one thing, 
 the moral nature of an individual or a race may be so low 
 that sympathy barely exists. This is one of the features of 
 savagery. In such a condition, there is an almost un- 
 mingled delight in cruelty. The malevolent pleasure is 
 then at its utmost ; nothing in life is equal to it. Yet, 
 inasmuch as cruelty, unmixed, is repugnant to all but the 
 very coarsest natures, there is needed, with a view to 
 pleasure, a pretext for the infliction of suffering ; legitimate 
 revenge being the most usual and sufficient, although not the 
 only one. 
 
 History has had to record the sufferings of mankind, 
 from famine, pestilence,* storms, floods, earthquakes, con- 
 flagrations or other natural agencies. To take delight in 
 such records is next to impossible, and no literaiy arts can, 
 or ought, to make them appear other than deplorable facts. 
 Next are devastating wars, and all the horrors that come in 
 
 * Tliucyilides encleavoured to pive interest to the great plnfnie of Athens. 
 Ovid poetized ;i |iHstilence. Our own Defoe enijiloycd his iiicliiies(|ue genius upon 
 the ]ila;;ue of London. It should not he supposed possible to reiU'eiL the honors of 
 sucti eahiniities, stdl less to rank their lerital aiiiong our literary pleasures. Yet, 
 when we cousidir that our newspapers count \ipou attraeting readers by the posting 
 up in couspi<\ious characters of all dreadful incidents, we cannot say that the 
 public regard such with pure abhorrence.
 
 MALEFICENT PLEASURE. 65 
 
 their train : — the invasions of the Mongols ; the conquests 
 of Eome, responded to by the irruptions of the Goths and 
 Vandals ; the oppressive rule of the Normans in England ; 
 the destruction of the indigenous races of mankind. 
 
 To these we may add the long-continued cruelties of 
 the traffic in slaves ; persecutions for religious opinions ; 
 the bloody strife of parties in the first French Revolution. 
 
 The barbarities of the shows of gladiators, and of the 
 Eoman triumphal processions, are to us of the same melan- 
 choly tenor, although considered in their day as legitimate 
 pleasures. 
 
 In the illustration of Malignant Strength, a special 
 group of examples will be given to represent the wide field 
 of War or Conflict. Our maleficent pleasure has itself been 
 traced back, with some plausibility, to the early struggle for 
 existence ; the interest remaining even after the necessity has 
 ceased. However this may be, the situation of conflict is 
 one especially suited to afford the gratification of malignity. 
 
 BENEFICENT STRENGTH. 
 
 3. Beneficent Strength includes all imposing cir- 
 cumstances of power put forth for good ends. 
 
 There is a wide step from Righteous Indignation and 
 Destruction of noxious agents, to power exercised construc- 
 tively for good ends. The element of maleficent pleasure 
 drops out of view, and the pleasure of benefit to mankind 
 takes its place. "We are conscious of a loss of unction in 
 the change ; it is like passing from the deUghts of sport to 
 the satisfaction of peaceful industry. Our direct self-interest 
 lends a charm to what concerns ourselves as individuals ; 
 our regards for the good of men collectively constitute our 
 interest in objects of general benefit. 
 
 While beneficence is a name wide enough to cover the 
 whole of the amicable sentiments of mankind, and, with these, 
 the special affections rooted in our constitution, a con- 
 venient line may be here drawn between those special in- 
 stincts of Tender Feeling which form a separate department 
 of rhetorical handling, and the feeling of collective benefits 
 or utility. In this latter type the acuteness of the tender 
 passion is lost or neutralized ; while its gratification in- 
 volves much larger displays of might, from the magnitude
 
 66 STKENGTH — CONSTITUEKTS. 
 
 of the operations involved. A vsrell-marked variety of litera- 
 ture attests the genuineness and propriety of the distinction. 
 The following, from Wordsworth, will show the dis- 
 tinction in a test passage : — 
 
 He spake of love, such love as spirits feel 
 
 In worlds whose course is equable and pure 
 No fears to beat away — no strife to heal — 
 The past masigh'd for, and the future sure ; 
 Spake of heroic acts in graver mood 
 Revived, with finer harmony pursued ; 
 
 Of all that is most beauteous — imaged there 
 In happier beauty : more pellucid streams, 
 An ampler ether, a diviner air. 
 
 And iields invested vdth purpureal gleams ; 
 
 Climes which the sim, who sheds the brightest day 
 Earth knows, is all iinworthy to survey. 
 
 The main elements here presented — love, peace, beauty 
 — are leading constituents of the pathetic ; and yet the 
 collective impression is Sublimity rather than Pathos. 
 
 The sublime of beneficent energy may be traced in the 
 great agents of the world, when working for good — Sun, air, 
 ocean, earth ; in the powers of nature, when similarly 
 directed — gravity and the chemical forces; in the great 
 erections of civilized men for their social convenience 
 ■ — cities, temples, pyramids, aqueducts, forts for defence, 
 ships. The structures of more modern times for manufac- 
 tures and trade attain to dimensions imposing by their 
 strength and vastness alone. 
 
 Milton's apostrophe to Light, at the opening of Book 
 III. of Paradise Lod, is an example of Sublimity in depicting 
 a beneficent natural agent. There is a transition to pure 
 Pathos in the hues where the poet bewails his privation 
 of sight. 
 
 In the following passage from Goldsmith, we have 
 strength attained by depicting the beneficent agencies of 
 civilized life : — 
 
 And wiser he whose sympathetic mind 
 
 Exults in all the good of all mankind. 
 
 Ye glittering towns, with wealth and splendour crowai'd ; 
 
 Ye iields, where summer spreads profusion round ; 
 
 Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale ; 
 
 Ye bending swains, that dress the flowery vale ; 
 
 For me your tributary stores combine : 
 
 Creation's heir, the world, the world is muie. 
 
 Neither can we omit the subhme in human benefactors
 
 BENEFICENT PLEASURE. 67 
 
 The energy that gave our race its great iniprovements in the 
 means of living, that formed and consohdated nations by the 
 arts of peace, that attained freedom for the oppressed, — 
 required to be on a scale of sublimity thus vast, while tinged 
 with the glow of beneficent emotions. The same feeling may 
 be evoked by the great writers in science, literature and art. 
 Wordsworth has thus represented the influence of 
 Burns over the hearts of his countrymen : — 
 
 Through busiest street and loneliest glen 
 
 Are felt the flashes of his pen : 
 
 He rules 'mid winter snows, and when 
 
 Bees fill their hives : 
 Deep in the general heart of men 
 
 His power survives. 
 
 It is an effect of strength that is here produced, though 
 the influence depicted is the power of giving pleasure. 
 
 Of all these grand achievements, the one that most 
 fires the poetic genius is Freedom. But here the maleficent 
 interest is usually present, at least in the form of righteous in- 
 dignation and triumph over oppression. Mark this stanza — 
 
 Lay the proud usurper low, 
 Tyrants fall in every foe. 
 Liberty's in every blow — 
 
 where the maleficent is two as against the beneficent one. 
 
 On the other hand, Tennyson's poem, ' Of old sat Free- 
 dom on the heights,' is a good example of the purely bene- 
 ficent interest : the sublime is attained by the personification 
 of Freedom, and the recital of its mighty results, the war- 
 like interest being left out. 
 
 Collins's ' Ode to Liberty ' traces the historical progress 
 of freedom, and describes its beneficial results, while 
 passing over the bloody conflicts and sufferings insepar- 
 able from the struggle. 
 
 It will be afterwards seen that the greatest stretch of 
 the beneficent sublime is shown in the endeavour to extol 
 the goodness of the Deity. Take, for the present, the fol- 
 lowing passage in Cowper: — 
 
 From Thee is all that soothes the life of man, 
 
 His high endeavour, and his glad success. 
 
 His strength to suffer, and his will to serve. 
 
 But oh ! Thou bounteous Giver of all good, 
 
 Thou art of all Thy gifts Thyself the crown. 
 
 Give what Thou canst, without Thee we are poor; 
 
 And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
 
 68 STRENGTH — CONSTITUENTS. 
 
 NEUTRAL STEENGTH. 
 
 4. The exhibition of Power, apart from the Feelinj^s 
 produced by its results, may impart to the beholder the 
 elation of mind characteristic of the Sublime. 
 
 This is the case that shows what Strength is apart from 
 its overt consequences. Being bereft of the unction that 
 attends the production of maleficent and of beneficent re- 
 sults, it rehes more on artistic genius and skill. The con- 
 ditions will he made apparent in the examples. 
 
 Neutral Strength is fully exemplified both in the forms 
 of human greatness and in the outer world. The energy of 
 human beings — whether physical, moral or intellectual — 
 may be exhibited as mere displays of force, without applica- 
 tion to ends. The instances, however, are not numerous. A 
 military review inevitably suggests the possible employment 
 of the force in war. Even games, as trials of strength, are 
 scarcely ever viewed in pure neutrality. Still, even when a 
 great end is brought about, the attention can be specially 
 directed upon the exertions of the agents in attaining it. 
 A remarkable instance may be seen in Browning's poem, 
 ' How they brought the good news from Ghent to Aix ' ; 
 where the action is given as a display of extraordinary 
 strength, resolution and endurance^ without immediate 
 relation to the object. 
 
 Vastness, too, may be used in setting forth personal 
 power. Milton sometimes employs it in his descriptions of 
 the angels, both fallen and unfallen, though oftenest to 
 heighten effects depending on maleficent energy. Keats 
 has no such reference iu the following description of Thea 
 in ' Hyperion ' : — 
 
 She was a goddess of the infant world ; 
 
 By her in stature the tall Amazon 
 
 Had stood a pigmy's height : she would have ta'en 
 
 Achilles by the hair and bent his neck ; 
 
 Or with a finger stay'd Ixion's wheel. 
 
 Her face was large as that of Mempliian sphinx, 
 
 Pedestal'd hai)ly in a palace-court, 
 
 When sages look'd to Egypt for their lore. 
 
 Among the objects already designated under the class 
 Impersonal Strength, — including the great forces of nature 
 and the vastness of the terrestrial and celestial domains, —
 
 SUBJECTS SUITED TO PURE STRENGTH. 69 
 
 there is, besides maleficent and beneficent agencies, a 
 considerable range of the more strictly neutral aspects of 
 sublimity. 
 
 The characteristics of pure Strength are given in the 
 dimensions of simple Space — namely, extent, height and 
 depth. In the actual world, vastness of expanse, loftiness 
 and abysmal depth, have the effect of power, and are 
 recognized sources of the emotion of Sublimity. The 
 objects that possess these qualities in a high measure — as 
 the wide ocean, great prospects seen from an elevation, the 
 starry expanse, — being easily represented to the imagina- 
 tion, enter into the poetical renderings of strength. 
 
 Dead pressure in enormous amount is an addition to the 
 sublimity of space dimensions, as in the mountain masses, 
 and the solidity of the earth, moon, plaiiets, sun and stars. 
 
 The Celestial Grandeurs may be quoted as the least 
 dependent on the added emotions of maleficence and bene- 
 ficence. The sun, moon and planets, and a few scattered 
 stars as landmarks, would serve all the useful ends of 
 objects shining in the sky ; the rest do neither harm nor 
 good. The exercise of imagination upon the countless 
 celestial hosts — suns, stars and galaxies — scattered at dis- 
 tances on an enormous scale of vastness, gives no other 
 feelings than the simple emotion of the Sublime. 
 
 The subject is rarely worked in this unmingled form, as 
 Tve shall see by the illustrative passages relative to pure 
 strength. 
 
 Time or duration, in large periods, has an elating influ- 
 ence, from its comprehending numerous stirring events — the 
 changes of nature and the revolutions of mankind. The 
 historical sublime is gained by a retrospect of the human 
 records. Still larger, although necessarily more vague, is 
 the sublimity of the geological and the cosmical past. Here 
 everything turns upon the art of verbal presentation. Time, 
 in the abstract, is nothing ; the efi'ect on the mind needs 
 the recital of grand and imposing incidents and changes in 
 sustained and harmonious phraseology. 
 
 The interest of Time readily lends itself to the pathos 
 of death and decay. Its purity is best attained in the great 
 cosmical past, and in the supposed future of the universe. 
 
 Time and Space assist one another in the conception. 
 Each taken by itself must be filled up with definite portions 
 in order to widen the imagination of the whole.
 
 70 STEEXGTH — VOCABULARY. 
 
 VOCABULAEY OF STEENGTH. 
 
 Language contributes to Strength in two ways : 
 namely (1) by adequately representing an object, situa- 
 tion or event, possessing the quality ; (2) by its uwn 
 emotional meanings and associations. 
 
 Each of these has its pecuhar conditions or laws ; 
 although most commonly we operate in both ways at once. 
 The first is the more laborious to all concerned. The good- 
 ness of our vocabulary on this head depends upon the 
 abundance and expressiveness of its words and phrases, 
 whether for description of still life or for narrating actions 
 and events. Intellectual adequacy, coherence and in- 
 telligibility must be secured in combining words of the 
 purely descriptive class. 
 
 The easier mode of working lies in the use of emotion- 
 tinged words and phases, of which the English language has 
 an ample stock. These we shall now pass in review. 
 
 The two modes may be illustrated by comparing a geographical 
 sketch of the Alps with a poetical description. Both may yield au 
 effect of sublimity, but in different ways. 
 
 Our feelings comiected with the Holy Land are almost entirely 
 due to the emotional language of Scripture. The pictures given by 
 travellers and geographers need an intellectual effort to conceive, and 
 are, at first, disenchanting. 
 
 Emotional words as such are unsusceptible of being 
 defined. One way of handling them is to state the classes 
 that they severally come under, and the speciality of each 
 as distinct from other members of its class. The word 
 ' grand ' belongs to the class of words of Strength, and has 
 a special meaning determined by its application to cases. 
 This meaning can be fixed by examples, by contrasts 
 and by synonyms. A coloured sunset, a lofty peak, a 
 succession of thunder and lightning outbursts, are grand. 
 A pelting, pitiless storm of rain or snow is strong without 
 being grand. Nothing that is mean or insignificant can be 
 in itself grand, while yet the insignificance of a cause or of 
 an instrument adds to the grandeur of an effect. 
 
 Another way is simply to enumerate, as best we can, 
 the emotional efifects associated with a word, after haviner 
 given its intellectual signification. This method would 
 apply to many class-terms, as 'sun,' 'star,' 'mountain,' 
 'ocean,' 'angel,' 'king,' 'hero,' 'father,' 'lover,' 'tiger,'
 
 EMOTIONAL MEANINGS OF WOEDS. 71 
 
 serpent,* 'lamb,' 'eagle,' 'lark,' 'rose,' 'violet,' 'oak'. 
 Each of these terms has a certain signification as knowledge : 
 to which is added a group of associated feelings. The sun 
 has a definition in Astronomy, which is purely intellectual ; 
 for poetry, it has farther meanings : ' power,' ' sublimity 
 of vastness,' 'mighty influence,' 'beneficent' and 'malefi- 
 cent ' by turns. 
 
 It has also to be observed that emotional associations of opposite 
 character sometimes attach to the same word. Thus, "night" is a 
 gladsome term, when we think of night as the season of rest and 
 repose ; it has terrifying or repulsive associations, when it calls up 
 darkness and evil deeds. So, " rock " raises agreeable feelings, when 
 we view it as the emblem of stability or of security and protection ; it 
 is otherwise when we regard it as the instrument of destruction. Agam, 
 " death " has both pleasant and painful associations attaching to it, 
 and which of the two will be suggested on any particular occasion, 
 depends entirely on the context. 
 
 Hence in Poetry, in order to harmonize, we need to be 
 aware of the emotional meanings of the terms that are 
 brought together ; and if necessary, to state these meanings 
 in justification, or in condemnation, of any one grouping. 
 So, in Oratory ; where the public speaker, whose object is 
 to persuade, has to calculate what is likely to be the emo- 
 tional effect of his language on the audience. 
 
 REVIEW OF THE VOCABULARY OF STRENGTH. 
 
 I. — Names of Subjects or Classes. 
 
 Beginning with Subjects of Strength — as already divided 
 into Physical, Moral, Intellectual and Collective — we may 
 exemplify as follows : 
 
 Physical, Personal (in connection with Man). — 'Giant,' 
 'Samson,' 'Goliath,' 'Hercules,' 'athlete,' 'wrestler,' 'prize- 
 fighter,' ' conqueror,' ' Olympian victor,' ' tamer of steeds,' 
 'lion-slayer,' 'wielder of the axe,' 'thrower of the javelin,' 
 ' strong of arm,' ' fleet of foot,' ' brawny figure,' ' muscular 
 proportions '. 
 
 (Animals). — ' Lion,' ' tiger,' ' elephant,' ' war-horse,' 
 'bull,' 'ox,' 'king of the forest,' 'monster of the deep,' 
 ' eagle,' vulture,' ' whale,' ' cobra '. 
 
 Moral. — 1. 'Hero,' 'victor,' 'champion,' 'combatant,' 
 ' fortitude,' 'manliness,' 'hardihood,' ' courage,' 'endurance' ; 
 'bold,' 'brave,' 'courageous,' 'fearless,' 'dauntless,' 'magna-
 
 72 STBENGTH — VOCABULARY. 
 
 nimous,' ' resolute,' ' deterrained,' 'with face set like a flint,' 
 'patriotic,' 'chivalrous,' 'just,' 'upright,' 'dutiful,' 'truthful'. 
 
 2. Names of the amiable virtues that may become 
 sublime by implying unusual self-restraint : ' humility,' 
 'meekness,' 'gentleness,' 'humanity,' 'generosity,' 'phi- 
 lanthropy '. 
 
 Intellectual. — 'Wise man,' 'scholar,' 'philosopher,' 'dun- 
 geon of learning,' ' Coryphaeus,' 'facile princeps,' ' poet,' 
 ' scientist,' ' man of parts,' ' commanding intellect,' 
 ' towering ability,' ' intellectual giant,' ' oracle,' ' luminary,' 
 ' Solomon,' ' Daniel,' 'star'; 'talent,' 'genius,' 'inspiration,' 
 'wit,' 'erudition,' 'invention,' 'ingenuity,' 'fame,' 'cele- 
 brity,' 'renown'; 'long-headed,' 'fai'-seeing,' 'thoughtful,' 
 ' meditative,' ' acute,' ' critical,' ' reflective,' ' deep '. 
 
 Moral and Intellectual. — ' Commander,' 'general, "director,' 
 'leader,' 'adviser,' 'guide,' 'monitor," councillor,' 'statesman,' 
 'diplomatist,' 'Nestor,' 'sage,' 'man of sagacity,' 'reformer,' 
 'lawgiver,' 'preacher,' 'peace-maker,' 'arbitrator,' 'orator,' 
 ' teacher ' ; ' shrewdness,' ' prudence,' ' discretion '. 
 
 Collectire. — 'People, "nation,' 'kingdom,' 'state,' 'realm,' 
 'commonwealth,' 'body politic,' ' community,' 'city,' 'town,' 
 'province,' 'population,' 'multitude,' 'mass,' 'horde,' 
 'crowd,' 'host,' 'army,' 'fleet,' 'battalion,' 'regiment,' 
 'squadron,' 'church,' 'school,' ' fourth estate ' (press), 'the 
 world,' 'the human race'. 'Throne,' 'dominion,' 'empire,' 
 * sway,' ' authority ' ; ' king,' ' prince of the earth,' ' despot,' 
 'tyrant '. 
 
 Also the names of the nationalities that have attained 
 historic greatness : Egypt, Babylon, Persia, Greece, Mace- 
 donia, Rome, Arabia, Turkey, Germany, France, Britain. 
 
 II.— Names of Constituents. 
 
 MALEFICENT STRENGTH. 
 
 Pure Malffireiire without pretext or justification. — ' In- 
 jure,' ' hurt,' ' persecute,' ' trample,' ' destroy,' ' tear to 
 pieces'; 'blood-shedding,' 'hate,' 'hell-hound,' 'fiend,' 'tor- 
 ment,' 'torture,' 'rob,' 'wound,' 'murder,' 'destroy,' 'van- 
 dals,' 'tease,' 'irritate,' 'annoy,' 'harass,' 'vex,' 'molest, 
 'cruelty,' 'diabolical malice,' 'spite,' 'ill-will,' 'venom,' 
 ' bile,' ' gall,' ' persecute,' ' grind,' ' tyrannize,' ' oppress,' 
 ' mutilate,' ' maim,' ' torture,' ' rack,' ' make mischief,'
 
 NAMES OF CONSTITUENTS OF STRENGTH. 73 
 
 'truculent,' 'detract,' 'calumniate,' 'disparage,' 'depreciate,' 
 'slander,' 'libel,' 'misrepresent,' 'garble,' 'backbite,' 'de- 
 fame,' ' vindictiveness,' 'malignant chuckle,' 'punishment,' 
 'wrath,' 'rancour,' 'condemnation,' 'glut your ire,' 'make 
 to smart,' 'rebel,' 'conspire,' 'plot,' 'intrigue,' 'assassin,' 
 'rise,' 'pitiless,' 'ruthless,' 'inexorable'. 
 
 With pretext, and by way of retribution. — ' Anger,' 
 ' revenge,' ' retaliation '. 
 
 Righteous Indignation. 
 
 The same vocabulary qualified by just cause shown ; 
 also more special terminology. — 'Avenge,' 'punish,' ' recom- 
 pense,' 'chastise,' 'correct,' 'reprove,' 'rebuke,' 'thwart'; 
 
 * retribution,' ' penalty,' ' castigation,' ' brought through the 
 furnace,' ' humiliation,' ' affliction '. 
 
 Destructive Energy. 
 
 Motive not specially expressed. — ' Break,' ' crush,' 
 
 * shatter,' ' ruin,' ' overturn,' ' throw down,' ' hammer,' 
 'explode,' 'blowup,' 'flood,' 'burst,' 'blast,' 'shiver in 
 pieces,' ' choke,' ' swallow up,' ' uproot,' ' apply the axe,' 
 ' scourge,' * smite,' ' fell,' ' abase '. 
 
 War and Conflict. 
 'Attack,' ' vanquish,' ' cjq^ture,' ' rout,' ' scatter,' ' devas- 
 tate,' ' slaughter ' ; ' fury,' ' ferocity ' ; ' shot,' ' broadside,' 
 'cannonade,' 'level to the ground,' 'pillage,' 'plunder,' 'rout,' 
 ' fire and sword,' ' siege,' ' storm,' ' massacre,' ' ravage,' 
 ' carnage ' ; ' victory/ ' trophy,' ' triumph,' ' ovation '. 
 
 Terror-inspiring. 
 
 • Frighten,' * intimidate,' ' terrify ' ; ' cowed,' ' terror- 
 stricken,' 'aghast,' 'put to flight'; 'shock,' 'quake,' 'crouch,' 
 'daunt,' 'dismay,' 'petrify,' 'panic,' 'consternation'. 
 
 BENEFICENT STEENGTH. 
 
 'Create,' 'produce,' 'plan,' 'build,' 'sustain,' 'renovate,' 
 
 * construct,' 'erect,' •' rear,' ' fabricate,' ' organize,' ' establish,' 
 'uphold,' 'stimulate,' ' chei-ish,' 'revive,' 'quicken'; 'bene- 
 factor,' ' author,' ' restorer,' ' liberator '. 
 
 Some of these may come under the head following. 
 
 NEUTRAL STRENGTH. 
 
 Power, as such, with maleficent or beneficent possibility. 
 — 'Force,' 'energy,' ' activity,' ' might,' ' cause,' ' origina-
 
 74: STRENGTH— VOCABULAKY. 
 
 tion,' ' movement,' ' motive power,' ' vigour,' ' propulsion ' ; 
 ' powerful,' ' etfective,' ' efficacious,' 'energetic,' 'influential,' 
 ' vivacious,' ' vehement,' ' impetuous,' ' impulsive ' ; * con- 
 vulsion,' ' shock,' ' strain '. 
 
 As resistance. — ' Eock,' ' iron,' ' adamant ' ; ' stubborn,* 
 'unflinching,' 'irresistible,' 'insuperable,' 'invincible,' 'un- 
 yielding,' ' inexpugnable,' ' impregnable '. 
 
 Special examples applicable to Space and to Time. — 
 'Expanse,' 'vastness,' 'extension,' 'range,' 'scope,' 'ubiquity,' 
 'diflusion,' 'immensity,' 'height,' 'loftiness,' 'depth,' 'abysm,' 
 'sweep,' 'scope'; 'ample,' ' capacious,' 'unbounded,' ' im- 
 measurable,' 'infinite,' 'inconceivable,' 'distant,' 'far,' 
 ' remote,' ' afar off'. 
 
 ' Time,' ' duration,' ' persistence,' ' perpetuity,' ' years,' 
 'century,' 'millennium,' ' aeon ' ; 'unceasing,' ' endless,' 'im- 
 mortal,' 'everlasting,' 'enduring,' 'perennial,' 'imperishable,' 
 ' eternal,' ' for ever and ever '. 
 
 Inanimate Things (the great objects and powers of 
 Nature). — 'Star,' 'firmament,' 'constellation,' 'galaxy'; 
 'ocean,' 'tide,' 'river,' 'torrent,' 'cataract'; 'mountain,' 
 'rock,' 'desert,' 'waste,' 'forest'; 'storm,' 'tempest,' 
 ' liurricane,' 'whirlwind,' 'tornado,' 'cyclone,' 'blizzard,' 
 'thunder,' 'volcano,' 'hail,' 'rain'. 
 
 (Artificial structures on the great scale). — 'Castle,' ' towei, 
 'palace,' 'mansion,' 'church,' 'cathedral,' 'spire'; 'fort,' 
 ' stockade,' 'rampart,' 'battery,' 'barricade,' 'ship of war,' 
 'steam-engine,' 'bridge, 'viaduct,' ' harbom-,' 'colossus'; 
 ' Cyclopean '. 
 
 Abstract Names (Personal and Impersonal). — 'Night,' 
 'chaos,' 'nature,' 'law,' 'force,' 'power,' 'splendour,' 'glory,' 
 'majesty,' 'effulgence,' 'greatness,' 'space,' 'time,' 'the 
 deep,' 'tower of strength,' 'heaven's concave'; 'life,' 
 'death,' 'humanity,' 'divinity,' 'excellence,' 'perfectibility,' 
 'superhuman might,' 'thought,' 'imagination,' 'contempla- 
 tion,' 'memory,' 'oblivion,' 'choice,' 'freedom,' 'liberty,' 
 'will,' 'fear,' 'courage,' 'love,' 'hate,' 'endurance,' 'ferocity 
 unparalleled,' 'friendship,' 'truth,' 'justice,' 'veracity,' 
 'virtue,' 'faith,' 'hope,' 'fortune,' 'chance,' 'prosperity,' 
 'calamity,' 'necessity,' 'destruction,' 'ruin'. 
 
 Negative J'erms used for Slrentjlh. — The form of negation
 
 KEGATIVE AND NUMERICAL TEEMS, 75 
 
 is favourable to strength, as involving opposition, resistance, 
 denial, refusal, defiance : qualities that by their very nature 
 demand a surplus of energy. As — ' infinite,' ' illimitable,' 
 ' immeasurable,' ' unceasing'. Some are adapted to signify 
 the mysteriousness of the world: — 'unknown,' 'unknowable,' 
 'inconceivable,' 'incomprehensible,' 'ineffable,' 'inexhaus- 
 tible,' ' the uncreated night'. Of promiscuous signification 
 are — 'unendurable,' 'incorruptible,' 'unfading,' ' undecaying,' 
 ' inopportune,' ' nonentity '. 
 
 The negative prefixes 'mis' and ' dis,' and the suffix 
 ' less,' impart a similar energy. So with the employment of 
 ' no ' and ' not ' : 'no second place ' is stronger than ' the 
 first '. 
 
 Numerical terms, when in large aggregate numbers, 
 contribute to energy. Homer attributes to Stentor the 
 shout of ' fifty ' men. ' Thousands ' and ' tens of thousands ' 
 enter into the phraseology of vastness. 
 
 Was this the face that launch'd a thousajid ships ? 
 
 For exercise in discriminating the terms and phraseology 
 of strength, reference may be made to Milton anywhere. 
 Gray's ' Progress of Poesy ' and ' The Bard ' offer a wide 
 field of choice. 
 
 CONDITIONS OF STKENGTH. 
 
 1. The Aids to Qualities in general being pre- 
 supposed, there are certain conditions of Strength in 
 particular, common to all its various forms. 
 
 It is not enough for Strength simply to name one or 
 more objects of the class that yield the emotion. All the 
 requirements already enumerated— Representative force. 
 Combination and Concreteness, Originality or Variety, Per- 
 sonality, Harmony, Ideality — must further be complied 
 with. There is also involved the employment of the ener- 
 getic Figures of Speech — Similitudes, Contrast, Epigram, 
 Hyperbole, Climax. 
 
 In laying down the conditions more expressly belonging 
 to the quality, we cannot help involving applications of the 
 foregoing. 
 
 (1) Adequate delineation of the subject, with due regard 
 to the points of interest.
 
 70 STRENGTH — CONDITIONS. 
 
 For example, as regards physical strength and the per- 
 sonified forces of nature, the description should single out 
 the precise features that the quality depends upon ; being, at 
 the same time, conceivable, consistent, mutually supporting, 
 and free from distracting and irrelevant particulars. 
 
 For the moral hero, the method of delineation combines 
 laudatory epithets with narrated conduct; all properly 
 chosen, and fulfilling the several requisites of Ideality, Har- 
 mony and Origiuahty or freshness. The poets of Greece 
 afford the earliest examples of success in depicting moral 
 prowess, whether maleficent or beneficent in its employ- 
 ment. 
 
 It is under this head that we may see the propriety of 
 attending to the ultimate Constituents of the quahty, as 
 made up of maleficent or beneficent adjuncts, together with 
 the more neutral attributes. 
 
 (2) The introduction of circumstances that re-act upon 
 the quality ; more especially, Effects and Comparisons. 
 
 Strength has no absolute value ; it subsists upon com- 
 parison, like height or depth. Hence the need of constant 
 reference to some standard of judgment — either the effects 
 produced, or some examples of contrasting inferiority. 
 
 (3) Harmonizing supports and surroundings. 
 
 This condition belongs to Strength in common with 
 other poetic attributes, and is brought forward by way of 
 reminder. 
 
 (4) The Subjective Feeling of the supposed spectator. 
 
 This aid, also, has its value everywhere ; and abun- 
 dance of cases may be quoted where it is either overdone 
 or misapplied. 
 
 (5) A certain degree of Eestraint and Suggestiveness. 
 The mildness of a powerful man, when his power is 
 
 unmistakeable, may be more impressive than a show of 
 energy. The laws of effective suggestion will appear in the 
 examples. 
 
 2. The conditions of Strength are further ilhistrated 
 by a review of the faults to be avoided in the endeavour 
 to produce it. 
 
 (1) The designations Turgidity, Inflation, Bombast, 
 Fustian, Falsetto, Bathos, Magniloquence (in the bad 
 sense), point to the danger of overdoing the language of 
 strength without the requisite supports.
 
 FAILUEES IN STRENGTH. 77 
 
 (2) Arid and uninteresting description, from relying too 
 much on neutral strength, and dispensing with its unctuous 
 emotional accompaniments. 
 
 (3) The opposite extreme of pushing malevolence to 
 the horrible, or beneficence to the maudhn. Also making 
 too exclusive use of the emotions, and not doing justice to 
 the grandeur of strength in its neutral character. To work 
 up an imposing picture of pure strength is a great triumph 
 of poetic art. 
 
 STRENGTH EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 In the detailed examination of illustrative passages, 
 there is a choice of arrangement — namely, by Classes or by 
 Constituents. If the classes were chosen — Physical, Moral, 
 &c., — there would still be wanted a reference to the modes of 
 producing strength, according to its ultimate elements. 
 Whence the preferable course seems to be to follow the 
 order of constituents, under which will fall the several 
 classes as may happen. Moreover, it is only a little w'ay 
 that we can go in obtaining passages under any one head 
 exclusively. In the end, the choice will have to be pro- 
 miscuous, and the illustration scattered over the classes and 
 constituents at random. 
 
 Nevertheless, it is desirable, in the first instance, to 
 exemplify separately Maleficent Strength (including the 
 special case of War or Conflict), Beneficent Strength and 
 Neutral Strength. 
 
 MALEFICENT STRENGTH. 
 
 Malignity Puee and Simple. 
 
 In the Literature of the world, a large place has 
 always been allowed to the interest of Malignity, regard 
 being had to the necessity of disguising it in a greater 
 or less degree. 
 
 As everywhere else, the requirement of adequate, select 
 and consistent representation is supposed : although the 
 strength of the passion allows this to be in a measure dis- 
 pensed with. The more express artistic condition is to 
 keep within the bounds that each age can tolerate, and to
 
 78 STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 veil the nakedness of the malignant pleasure by pretexts, 
 diversion, poetic glitter and all the known means of refining 
 the gi'osser kinds of pleasure. 
 
 The foremost pretext for malignant infliction is always 
 Eetribution or Revenge, w^hich must be made to appear 
 sufficient, according to the feeling of the time. As the sym- 
 pathetic side of our nature makes progress, the justification 
 needs to be more ample. A considerable interval divides 
 Malignant Eevenge from Eighteous Indignation. 
 
 Adverting first to the literature of antiquity, we note, as 
 regards Homer, that his audience enjoyed thoroughly, as 
 we do partially, the malignity and cruelty of the leading 
 personages. The harsh conduct of Achilles, however, is 
 glossed over by the provocation he received, by his tragic 
 fate, and by the nobler parts of his character, — that is to 
 say, the intensity of his friendship and his bursts of 
 generosity. Moreover, the poet adorns him with gifts of 
 person and a splendid intellect. These mixtures and palUa- 
 tives were quite enough to appease the twitchings of sym- 
 pathy for his victims. 
 
 The Greek Tragedians had to set forth dreadful incidents 
 of malignant fury, and to record many undeserved calamities 
 happening to individuals. To give these last the appearance 
 of retribution, they had to resort to fictitious crimes and 
 hereditary liabilities. The arts of poetry being superadded, 
 the mixture proved sufficient. When the disasters seem 
 too great for a family curse, they are dealt with theologically — 
 that is, by the view of divine government that allows a share 
 to Fate ; desert being entirely abandoned. 
 
 Any theory of the pleasure of Tragedy that leaves out 
 men's disinterested delight in the infliction of suffering is 
 unequal to the explanation of the phenomenon. The poet 
 is not called upon to choose subjects that gi'ate upon our 
 sympathies, and would not do so unless he could light upon 
 some adequate compensation. By striking the malignant 
 chord of our nature, he does much more than allay the 
 sympathetic pain. 
 
 Both Tragedy and Comedy alike repose upon the gratifi- 
 cation of our malevolence. The difterence between the two 
 will be apparent afterwards. 
 
 In middle age Literature — as, for example, in Dante — 
 sufTering is for the most part related to misdeeds; but, in
 
 GLOEIFICATION OF THE PRINCIPLE OF EVIL. 79 
 
 its horrible disproportion, it sufficiently panders to the 
 perennial delight in malignancy. 
 
 The most remarkable illustration of the appetite for the 
 infliction of suffering, with diie provision for veiling it by 
 pretexts and artistic devices, is the glorification of the 
 Principle of Evil, in the triumphs of the spiritual enemy of 
 mankind. That it should be possible to make an interesting 
 poem out of the victory of Satan in the ruin of the human 
 race can, with difficulty, receive any other explanation. 
 
 There are, doubtless, many feehngs evoked in Paradise 
 Lost ; but the central and commanding interest is malevo- 
 lence. We have first a highly- wrought picture of the ex- 
 pulsion of the Satanic host from heaven, and their sufferings 
 in the fiery regions of the lower world, all extremely 
 grateful to us ; while the fact of their rebellion is enough as 
 a pretext for gloating over their misery. 
 
 So far we are fully justified. But when, in the 
 sequel, Satan plots the ruin of our race, and is successful in 
 achieving it, while his work is only partially undone by the 
 means set forth in the poem, it requires an astonishing 
 intensity of the pleasure of malevolence to view him with 
 any other feelings than extreme revulsion. Man falls, with- 
 out any adequate reason, except that he was made with 
 free-will, and had to undergo a test of his determination to 
 adhere to the right. 
 
 A great part of the handling of Satan lies in the more 
 forcible exhibition of his personal endowments for evil. He 
 is represented as of vast corporeal dimensions and physical 
 force; to which are added moral determination, courage and 
 endurance. All these qualities we may admire in anyone, 
 apart from the use made of them. He has great intellectual 
 resources — deep contrivance, and powers of verbal address, 
 both passionate and argumentative. His devilish hate is 
 repeated in endless variety of diabolical sentiments, to all 
 which the ai^thor lends his splendid flow of adorned phrase- 
 ology and melodious metre. He enters on a daring campaign 
 against the hosts of the Almighty, and maintains a fierce 
 though unequal conflict. We feel satisfaction at his de- 
 feat ; which, however, is merely a new turn given to our 
 malevolent gratification. 
 
 It is emphatically set forth (I. 211) that all the Satanic 
 mischief is to be overruled, in the divine goodness towards
 
 80 STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 man, and in deeper wrath and vengeance towards man's 
 seducer. This no doubt operates as a diversion of the 
 malevolent interest. 
 
 Then something is made of the remaining goodness in 
 Satan himself (I. 591, 619). This slightly relieves our 
 compunctions at being kept so long in the diabolical sti-ain. 
 
 The union of the fiend and the cunning sneak, in the 
 invasion of Paradise and the temptation of our first parents, 
 gives us the pleasure of hatred and contempt, in no small 
 degree, and, in the circumstances, we accept it without re- 
 garding the disastrous result. 
 
 Interspersed through the poem are numerous incidents 
 and descriptions that command our sympathies with good- 
 ness. These would not be in the highest degree interesting 
 in themselves ; but they are pauses in the plot, during 
 which we recover our self-complacency as taking delight in 
 goodness. 
 
 The splendour of the poetry is a great palliation of the 
 horrors of the transactions. These are not given in a coarse 
 realism, but veiled in euphemistic language, and accom- 
 panied with every charm that literary genius can evoke. 
 
 The remark applies to Milton, in common with the great 
 majority of poets, that the destructive and malignant 
 passions are those most favourable to his range of poetic 
 invention. His grandest strokes are associated with the 
 delineation of the powers of evil : the occasional triumph of 
 these, and their ultimate defeat, being equally an appeal to 
 our pleasure in scenes of suffering. 
 
 Many theories have been advanced to explain the in- 
 ferior interest attaching to Paradise Regained. There may 
 be truth in all ; yet they do not supersede the remark, 
 that the plot and action were not such as to pander- 
 to our malignant gratification and evoke the highest displays 
 of Milton's imaginative power. Satan as an astute dis- 
 putant, niatched with his superior in the art, did not stir the 
 nnagi native force of the poet to the same pitch as when, at 
 the head of the hellish hosts, his shout made all the hollow 
 deep of hell resound, or when he had to encounter Sin and 
 Death at the portal of the infernal regions. 
 
 Just as, with Dante, the Inferno excels the other 
 portions of his epic in attractiveness, so, with Milton, the 
 incidents connected with Satan's devilish machinations are 
 poetically more effective than the benign interference of his
 
 Goethe's paust. 81 
 
 Almighty superior to repair his mischief. Indeed, it cannot 
 be said that Milton is ordinarily successful in depicting the 
 good and tender side of our nature, as, for example, in the 
 loving intercourse of Adam and Eve in Paradise.* 
 
 The triumph of the evil principle is again embodied with 
 the highest poetic power in Goethe's adaptation of the 
 legend of Faust and the Devil. The interest in malignity is 
 here worked to the utmost possible pitch, and rendered in 
 some degree tolerable by sundry admixtures. The triumph 
 of evil in the ruin of human beings is strongly represented ; 
 and requires the concurrence of our diabolical sympathies 
 and malevolent pleasures in order to its enjoyment. 
 
 A highly accomplished, but pleasure-loving and feeble- 
 willed man is the hero of the piece. He leagues himself to 
 a demon, whose mahgnity is embodied in superhuman 
 cunning and boundless resources. The chief incident is a 
 love-plot, where a guileless maiden is led astray to gratify 
 the hero's passion. She and her whole family are brought 
 to a miserable end ; and the interest of tragedy is wrought 
 up in their dreadful fate. Paust surrenders himself to the 
 demon, in payment for his short-lived career of sensual 
 gratification. 
 
 The evil spirit indulges himself in numerous episodes at 
 the expense of mankind : his satire and mockery are allowed 
 free course. 
 
 There are, of course, as in Milton, softening and redeem- 
 ing accompaniments. The love scenes are portrayed by a. 
 master's hand — to be immediately turned into mockery; and 
 the respective characters of the ill-sorted pair of lovers are 
 well sustained. There is inevitable pathos in the downfall 
 of Gretchen, but not enough to redeem the gratuitous horrors 
 of her evil fate. 
 
 We can trace no redeeming nobility of character in any 
 of the personages: the tissue of the piece is mockery, misery 
 and disaster. The poetry alone saves it. As happens to 
 Milton and to many others, the author's genius is most 
 brilliant and inventive when he reveals scenes of horror. 
 
 Unless we are prepared for glutting the malignant side 
 of our nature, the Faud naturally repels more than it 
 
 * " It is the incomparable charm of Milton's power of poetic style which gives 
 such worth to Paradise Regained, and makes a preat poem of a work in which 
 Milton's imagination does not soar high." (Matthew Arnold.) 
 
 5
 
 82 BTRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION, 
 
 attracts. There is truth in its moral ; but with enormous 
 exaggerations. The faults of Faust and his mistress are 
 undoubtedly punished in actual life, and sometimes severely, 
 but seldom with such ruthless severity as Goethe's plot 
 assumes. A great scholar that should desert his studies 
 and plunge' into dissipation, a simple maid overcome by 
 trinkets and by the glozing tongue of a man of superior 
 intellect, would suffer for their folly and criminality, but in 
 ways far short of what happened to Faust and Margaret. 
 Hence, the questions so often raised in connexion with 
 Goethe's masterpiece — Is a poet justified in making out the 
 w^orld to be more devil-ridden than it actually is ? Is the 
 reader disposed to feel an interest in such a plot, and, if he 
 is, what is the feeling in him that it principally gratifies ? 
 
 Next to the personified principle of Evil, we may rank a 
 successful usurper, engaged in ravaging mankind on a great 
 scale for his own aggrandisement. Many of these figure in 
 history. Perhaps the most pronounced example of the 
 type is Timur or Tamburlaine, who has been converted by 
 Marlowe from a historical monster into a poetical figure. 
 
 Two plays, among the most popular of their time, are de- 
 voted by the poet to this character. The first presents Tam- 
 burlaine's successful rise, by sheer conquest, from a shepherd 
 of Tartary to Emperor of Asia. It is an almost unrelieved 
 scene of gratification of his naked lust of power, and what 
 is not actual fruition is exuberant anticipation. There is 
 no pretence that he is putting down evil rulers in the 
 interest of better government ; the one motive is, "Is it 
 not passing brave to be a king?" The personal exultation 
 over his enemies i-eaches its full height in the caging and 
 brutal degradation of the conquered Bajazet to grace a 
 banquet. His disregard of human misery in general is 
 displayed when he massacres, first, with circumstances of 
 peculiar horror, the maiden suppliants from Damascus, and, 
 afterwards, every single inhabitant, merely to preserve his 
 character for relentless ferocity, and "his honour, that con- 
 sists in shedding blood ". And at the climax of success, he 
 gloats in idea over his own destroying energy : — • 
 
 Where'er I come, the Fatal Sisters sweat, 
 And grisly Death, by running to and fro, 
 To do their ceaseless homage to my sword.
 
 THE SUCCESSFUL USURPER. 83 
 
 Millions of souls sit on the banks of Styx 
 Waiting the back-return of Charon's boat ; 
 Hell and Elysia swarm with ghosts of men 
 That I have sent from sundry foughten fields, 
 To spread my fame through hell and up to heaven. 
 
 There are only the sHghtest palliations of all this 
 brutality. Tamburlaine gives short glimpses of a personal 
 attractiveness, namely, courage, generosity in rewarding 
 lieutenants, and admiration for a noble enemy ; vphich, 
 however, hardly interrupt the general effect. Even his love 
 of Zenocrate ministers to the prevailing passion, and is 
 barely touched on the tender side. 
 
 The second play that Marlowe devoted to Tamburlaine 
 is like the first. Where the monster is not slaying, he is 
 railing. Zenocrate's death hardly approaches to pathos ; 
 for it only rouses him to celebrate " her sad funeral " with 
 " many cities' sacrifice ". His own son is not safe from his 
 murderous hands. His very death, though it " cuts off the 
 progress of his pomp," is no real rehef ; for he keeps up the 
 truculent tone to the end, exhorting his son and successor 
 to " scourge and control those slaves," and his eternal fare- 
 wells are dashed with an exultation in his title, " the 
 scourge of God". In this second play occurs the hideous 
 scene, where Tamburlaine rides in a chariot drawn by 
 captive kings, and taunts them with the sarcastic brutality 
 of "Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia," &c. Here the slight 
 palliations of the first part are almost wholly absent. 
 
 These two plays were immensely popular in Elizabethan 
 London, as Henslowe's diary proves ; and they appeal with- 
 out equivocation to the most inhumane of our emotions. 
 To-day, they would be intolerable on the stage ; ani, even 
 under the less vivid realization of I'eading, the mind is only 
 intermittently withheld from revolt by the splendour of the 
 diction, the grandeur of the imagery, and the resounding 
 energy of the metre. 
 
 In The Pleasures of Hope (I. 531), Campbell touches the 
 same subject with his more delicate hand. He reconciles us 
 to its horrors by scathing denunciation, by the bravery and 
 nobleness of the martyrs that perished for their religion, and 
 by the halo of his great theme Hope,— through whose in- 
 spiration he endeavours to render bearable the darkest 
 chapters in human history.
 
 84 STKENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Shakespeare's masterpieces often glory in the dehneation 
 of horrors, which all his genius cannot redeem for us. (See 
 Johnson's commentary on Lear.) Yet he was in advance 
 of his own time ; and, while necessarily studying his 
 audience as he found it, was comparatively reserved in his 
 employment of the grosser passions, malignity included.* 
 One thing he carefully withheld, that is, war in its realistic 
 horrors. 
 
 Strength in Combat. 
 
 The poetic handling of a Combat is governed, in the 
 first instance, by the conditions of Maleficent Strength, 
 and next by the laws of Plot-interest. 
 
 The description of a combat at arms moites several elements 
 of effect. In the first place, all the varieties of Strength — physical, 
 moral, intellectual, collective — are shown at their utmost pitch in 
 conflict, and are signified by the most testing indications. 
 
 Next is the two-sided treat of malignancy. The combatants 
 axe met to inflict on each other as much suflering as possible ; the 
 redeeming cu'cumstances being that they are mutually aggressive 
 and defensive. Hence the place given to war in the Uterature of 
 every age ; whether as History or as Poetry — epic, dramatic and 
 h-ric — and even as Religion. Fighting has been a chief business 
 of nations from the beginning of time ; and, when not in act, 
 imitations of it are resorted to as recreation. Such are the shows 
 of gladiators, tournaments, games and fights for championship. 
 
 In the personification of the inanimate world, this interest is 
 not forgotten. When the great forces of Natm-e ai-e imusually 
 active, they are said to be at ' war '. Milton {Paradise Lost, II. 
 898-910) employs the language of a pitched field to give the interest 
 of combat to the ' eternal anarchy ' of ' Hot, Cold, Moist and Dry ' 
 in Chaos. 
 
 The principles already enunciated for the mahgnant 
 emotion are taken for granted as applicable to conflict. The 
 more special point in the case is the superadded charm of 
 Plot or Story, to which a w^ell balanced hostile encounter 
 happily lends itself. 
 
 A common form of combat is that where we are inte- 
 rested in the success of one side. The rival must, at the 
 same time, be powerful, and able to cause some (not too 
 great) anxiety as to the result. Tliere will then be a due 
 
 ♦"Murdoch [the Schoolmaster) brought Titus Andrnnicus, and, with such 
 dominie elocution as we may suppose, hegan to read it aloud before this rustic 
 audience [the Burns family], but wlien he had reached the passage where Tamora 
 insults Lavinia, with one voice and ' in an agony of disti-ess,' they refused to hear 
 it to tho end." (R. L. Stevenson, Familiar ittuiies, p. 43.)
 
 FIGHTING INTEKEST IN THE ILIAD. 85 
 
 alternation of blows, with varying advantage ; the indica- 
 tions of the ultimate success of the favourite may occasion- 
 ally hang dubious, but on the whole must sustain our hopes. 
 Pauses and retrograde movements violate the interest. 
 
 Another case is where we are not specially interested in 
 either side, but ai'e prepared to witness a trial of strength, 
 and to gloat over the suffering mutually inflicted. The 
 opposing parties, in this instance, must be so far balanced 
 that the issue is doubtful. Each must give effective blows in 
 turn, and the equality must be maintained for a consider- 
 able time ; a slight failing in one will then foreshadow the 
 termination, but not decide it, without several rallies; when 
 the suspense has been sufficiently prolonged, the decisive 
 blow will fall. 
 
 The interest is more piquant when the opposing powers 
 excel in different ways ; as wheu superior force is balanced 
 by superior skill. 
 
 Of all the forms of hostile encounter, the single combat 
 is the easiest to render interesting. It has the further 
 advantage, of which poets gladly avail themselves, that it 
 permits in addition a war of words between the combatants. 
 Several notable examples are provided by Homer, from 
 •which we can gather his conception of effect. 
 
 The first contest in the Iliad is the duel of Fai*is and 
 Menelaus — a mere fiasco from Paris's cowardice, for which his 
 beauty of person is considered a sufhcient excuse. The contest, 
 however, has to be renewed in a more formal manner, and with a 
 view to decide by single combat the quarrel that led to the war. 
 The issue is equally unsatisfactory. Paris aims one blow without 
 effect ; Menelaus strikes twice, and seizes Paris to carry him away 
 bodily, when the goddess of Love interferes and saves him. Con- 
 tiicts of this character are necessarily devoid of interest for us. 
 
 Next Menelaus receives a womid from Pandarus iniseen, there 
 being no fight. 
 
 The terrible two days' battle, so ruinous to the Greeks in the 
 absence of AcliUles, is treated by a general description ; the poet 
 choosing as the salient feature ' the mingled shouts and groans of 
 men slaying and being slain,' and vivifying it by a simile, striking 
 in itself, but so far removed in kind as to be wanting in pictivresque 
 force: two mountain torrents, arising apart, descend and meet 
 in the same ravine, and 'the shepherd hears the roar'. Then 
 follows in detad a long series of single combats ; such being the 
 poet's preference throughout. They are savage in tlie last 
 degree ; but seldom contain any effective parrying before the 
 fatal blow. There are many verbal encounters previous to the
 
 86 STEENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 action, but these merely add to the expression of savagery, Tlio 
 gods interfere to protect their favourites, and heal tliek wounds. 
 The brutality of the struggle is in itself utterly repulsive, but we 
 are compelled by the poetical power lavished on the descriptions 
 to wade through it, and in some degree to condone it. Among the 
 redeeming interludes we have the touching and higlily wrought 
 scene of Hector and Andromache with theii- little boy. 
 
 The thkd battle, carried on after the embassy to Achilles, is 
 also made up of single combats, with occasional charges of small 
 bands, as the Locrian bowmen of the Lesser Ajax ; with the usual 
 amount of celestial interferences. 
 
 At the crisis of this fight occurs the doom of Patroclus, after a 
 more than usually protracted encoimter, but still not enough to 
 make a highly sensational fight. He brings on his fate by rash- 
 ness ; divme interference, as before, destroys the interest of the 
 three or four tiu-ns in the story of his death." 
 
 There remains only the death of Hector, the slayer of 
 Patroclus. This is the work of Achilles, and is the gi-eatest con- 
 flict in the poem. As in the other personal contests, there is first 
 a fierce verbid encoimter, worked up with Homeric genius ; 
 and then a very few thrusts, with the usual unfairness on the part 
 of the celestial powers, who provide Achilles with armour, and 
 practise upon Hector a cruel deceit. The permanent interest con- 
 sists purely in exemplifying mahgnant revenge, with little to 
 redeem it beyond the poet's genius of expression. There is no art 
 in the management of the details of tlie fight, notwithstanding 
 that, being imhistorical, the poet could make it anything he 
 pleased. 
 
 The Oihjsi'ey is not a poem of war, but of adventure, 
 to which fighting is subsidiary. 
 
 The vengeance of Ulysses on his arrival at his home is 
 made up of the coarsest slaughter, but gives the first example 
 of an incident that never fails to afford pleasure, the punish- 
 ment of a bully by a despised and seemingly insignificant 
 rival. Our malignant gratification has free scope in such a case. 
 
 In the course of his adventures, Ulysses gave the cue to 
 another great stroke of modern romance for the delecta- 
 tion of the young, namely, in the putting out of the one eye 
 of the monster Polyphemus. 
 
 In Theocritus, the conquest of brute force by agility is 
 exemplified. 
 
 In Virgil, conflicts are frequent; the culminating example 
 being the final struggle of iEneas with Turnus. 
 
 Conflicts on the great scale of armies, and on the small 
 scale of personal encounters, are repeated without end, both
 
 CONFLICTS IN MODERN POETEY. 87 
 
 in history and in poetry. Apart from felicity of lanji^nage, 
 which depends on individual genius, the most artistic hand- 
 ling is achieved by the moderns. 
 
 Conflict is the life and soul of modern chivalry ; being 
 sanctified by the triumph of the right. In Spenser's ' Faerie 
 Queen,' there is a perpetual series of conflicts ; and the 
 suspense of plot is partially attended to. 
 
 Eeferring to Shakespeare, we can quote the battle of 
 Bosworth Field, where the action is centred in the single 
 combat between Eichard and Eichmond. 
 
 Milton takes care to provide the interest of great battles ; 
 and also permits an approach to single combat. He employs 
 very fully the ancient device of making the combatants 
 first engage in a war of words, as in the case of Gabriel and 
 Satan {Paradise Lost, Book IV.), and Abdiel and Michael 
 with Satan (Book VI.). He imitates the ancient methods, 
 further, by the introduction of divine interference to settle 
 the conflict, as with both the contests just quoted ; in the 
 first even preventing the actual contest altogether. 
 
 Gray's Ode on ' The Triumphs of Owen ' concentrates the 
 interest on Owen's personal prowess : — 
 
 Where he points his purple spear, 
 Hasty, hasty rout is there. 
 
 The management of fights is one of Scott's special gifts. For a 
 personal contest, we have nothing to surpass the murderous combat 
 between Fitz-James and Roderick Dhu. Our sympathies are but 
 moderately engaged by either. Roderick Dhu is not sufficiently in 
 the wrong to make us take pleasure in his discomfiture ; while he has 
 some noble and chivalrous traits that win our esteem, and, moreover, 
 has to avenge a kinsman's blood. Scott, like Milton, follows the 
 Homeric usage, which is genuinely artistic, of making the combatants 
 first engage in a war of words, full of lofty defiance on both sides. 
 Their courage and determination are grateful to our feelings, as 
 pictures of moral strength. Scott retains that last trace of the super- 
 natural, the use of prophecy. The advantage of the device is doubtful; 
 for, although it adds something to the romantic interest, it detracts 
 from the sense of truth and reality. 
 
 The Saxon had the best of the argument from prophecy, and does 
 not scruple to say so. The efiect upoa Roderick Dhu is terrific, and 
 the serious work begins : — 
 
 Dark lightning flash'd from Roderick's eye — 
 
 " Soars thy presmnption, then, so high. 
 
 Because a wretched kern ye slew. 
 
 Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? 
 
 He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! 
 
 Thou add'st but fuel to my hate : — 
 
 My clans-man's blood demands revenge. '
 
 88 STEENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 This splendid passage does justice to the outburst of high passion 
 provoked by the Saxon's insolence. Hate and revenge are at a white- 
 heat. Then there is a moment's pause, Fitz-James seemingly hanging 
 back, and the chieftain resumes : — 
 
 " Not yet prepared ? — By heaven, I change 
 
 My thought, and hold thy valour light 
 
 As that of some vain carpet-knight, 
 
 Who ill deserved mj' couileous care. 
 
 And whose best boast is but to wear 
 
 A braid of his fair lady's hair." 
 The poet here shows his art in leading Roderick to over-vaunt his 
 position — a prognostic of his probable downfall. The contempt of the 
 speech has its effect upon his rival ; and the reply is less violent in 
 tone, but more energetically sustained. The Saxon makes a claim to 
 equality on the chivalrous point, and dares to stake his future ou the 
 single combat : — 
 
 " I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! 
 
 It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; 
 
 For I have sworn this braid to stain 
 
 In the best blood that warms thy vein. 
 
 Now, truce, farewell I and ruth, begone 1 — • 
 
 Yet think not that by thee alone. 
 
 Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; 
 
 Tho' not from copse, or heath, or cairn, 
 
 Start at my whistle clansmen stern, 
 
 Of this small horn one feeble blast 
 
 Would fearful odds agamst thee cast. 
 
 But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt — 
 
 We try this quarrel hilt to hilt." 
 
 At this point ends the speech-making, and begins the death struggle. 
 The few words describing the preparation are well chosen : the steps of 
 the action are clearly and vividly presented. 
 
 Then each at once his falchion drew, 
 
 Each on the ground his scabbard threw, 
 
 Each look'd to sun, and stream, and plain. 
 
 As what they ne'er might see again ; 
 
 Then foot, and point, and eye opposed, 
 
 In dubious strife they darkly closed. 
 
 The third and fourth lines are strikingly thrown in : whether or 
 not the combatants would actually arrest their movements for the 
 survey, it would be highly becoming their position to do so. 
 
 Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
 
 That on tlie field his targe he threw, 
 
 Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
 
 Had death so often dash'd aside ; 
 
 For, train'd abroad his arms to wield, 
 
 Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 
 
 He practised every pass and ward, 
 
 To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; 
 
 While less expert, tho' stronger far, 
 
 The Gael maintain'd unequal war.
 
 SCOTT's FITZ- JAMES AND RODERICK DHU. 89 
 
 It may be said that Scott prematurely discloses the almost certain 
 issue of the struggle, by gi^'ing in advance a reason for the enduig. 
 This is so far true ; but indeed in his introduction of the prophecy he 
 had already prepared our minds for the actual conclusion. Still, even 
 when we know how a struggle is to terminate, we can feel a strong 
 interest in seeing by what steps and wavering turns the end is reached. 
 So it is in the present case. 
 
 Three times in closing strife they stood, 
 And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood ; 
 No stinted draught, no scanty tide, 
 The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 
 Fierce Eoderick felt the fatal drain. 
 And shower'd his blows like wmtry rain ; 
 And, as firm rock, or castle roof, 
 Against the winter shower is proof, 
 The foe, invulnerable still, 
 Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill ; 
 Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
 Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 
 And, backward borne upon the lea, 
 Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 
 
 The action here is perhaps too rapid; the effect of Fitz- James's 
 superiority too immediate. More parley might have been allowed 
 before Roderick Dhu had sunk so low. The author, however, has for 
 us a surprise in store ; the energy of Roderick in his prostrate condition 
 protracts the issue, and very nearly turns the scale. The two exchange 
 a few brief words, at the very highest tension of defiance. 
 
 "Now, yield thee, or, by Him who made 
 The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade ! " 
 " Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 
 Let recreant yield, who fears to die." 
 
 Then follows the splendidly sustained description of Roderick's 
 desperate move : — 
 
 Like adder darting from his coil, 
 Like wolf that dashes through the toil, 
 Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 
 Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; 
 Received, but reck'd not of a wound. 
 And lock'd his arms his foeman round. 
 In this attitude he can still command a speech, perhaps rather too 
 highly illustrated for reasonable probability in the situation :— 
 
 " Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! 
 No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! 
 That desperate grasp thy frame might feel, 
 Through bars of brass and triple steel ! " 
 
 A fearful scene ensues, enough to satisfy the most ardent lovers of 
 a death struggle. The author's selection of circumstances is suggestive 
 in the highest degree. Unlike many poetical descriptions, it enables 
 VIS with a very slight effort to realize the phases of the struggle. No-
 
 90 6TKENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 thing could be omitted ; and nothing more is needed to gi\e us the full 
 glut of a bloody busiaess. 
 
 They tug, they strain ! — down, down they go, 
 The Gael above, Fitz-James below. 
 The Chieftain's gripe his throat compress'd, 
 His knee was planted in his breast ; 
 His clotted locks he backward threw, 
 Aci-oss his brow his hand he drew. 
 From blood and mist to clear his sight. 
 Then gleam'd aloft his dagger bright ! — 
 — But hate and fury ill supplied 
 The stream of life's exhausted tide, 
 And all too late the advantage came. 
 To turn the odds of deadly game ; 
 For, wMle the dagger gleam'd on high, 
 Reel'd soul and sense, reel'd brain and eye. 
 Down came the blow ! but in the heath 
 The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
 The struggling foe may now imclasp 
 The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ; 
 Unwounded from the dreadful close. 
 But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 
 
 The circumstance of skill and steadiness overpowering 
 brute force and passion, is an agreeable manifestation of the 
 quality of strength, and is a favourite point in romance. 
 Much as we like to see any man possessing exti-aordinary 
 strength, we are especially gratified at finding the coarser 
 forms of energy made to succumb before the more elevated 
 and refined. 
 
 . Tennyson has not omitted to describe the single combat. 
 In ' Gareth and Lynette,' Gareth has three fights : one with 
 the Morning Star, a Second with the Noonday Sun, and the 
 third with the Evening Star. The last is most protracted, 
 there being included in the attractions of the fight Lynette's 
 shrill encouragement to Gareth. The first and third fights 
 are preluded by a touch or two of Homeric vituperation. 
 Also, in ' Geraint and Enid ' there is a set single combat 
 between Geraint and the Sparrow-Hawk. 
 
 In Mr. M. Arnold's poem, ' Sohrab and Eustum,' we 
 have a recent example of the working up of a life and death 
 encounter. This work stands close examination for its 
 artistic development ; but the interest is removed to a 
 much higher sphere, and partakes more of Pathos than of 
 Malignity.
 
 CONTESTS IN VARIOUS FORMS. 91 
 
 The conflicts of armies in mass involve a different manage- 
 ment. They may be described with the precision of King- 
 lake, which embodies both comprehensiveness and minute 
 details, with a few touches of personal encounter. Tliis is 
 the mode adapted to modern warfare. Collective strength, 
 if well conceived, has an impressiveness of its own, but it is 
 dependent on the picturesqueness of the description. For 
 the more strictly poetic treatment of mass engagements, we 
 may refer to Scott's 'Battle of Plodden,' to Carlyle's 
 battles in Gromicell and in Frledrich, and to Macaulay, who 
 has furnished two styles — the one in the History of Emjland, 
 the other in the Lays. 
 
 The Tournament is a form of single combat, which, when 
 given in fiction, obeys all the laws of interest of the fight. 
 Scott rejoices in this also ; and Tennyson has many occa- 
 sions for it in ' The Idylls of the King '. 
 
 The Chase is a variety of the same all-pervading interest, 
 and is worked up with poetical vividness by the great 
 masters. The Lady of the Lake (Canto I.) is a suffi- 
 cient example. As the pursuit and slaughter of destructive 
 and ferocious animals, it commanded general sympathy, and 
 gratified our natural malevolence without any revulsion of 
 feeling. The case is very much altered when the subjects 
 are the feebler animals, whose mischief could easily be pre- 
 vented in other ways. 
 
 Contests of strength and prowess for the mere assertion 
 of superiority, without slaughter, are a refinement upon 
 the interest of conflict. This is the spirit of games of 
 strength and skill, which admit of a poetic rendering. 
 The Odyssey affords a case, when Ulysses contends with 
 the Phaeacians at the palace of Alcinous ; the interest is 
 heightened by interchange of taunting speech, and the dis- 
 comfiture of the original aggressor. In the ' Eape of the 
 Lock, ' Pope introduces a game at cards, and handles it in 
 his felicitous manner. 
 
 The highest refinement of all is the War of Words, which 
 is eminently suited to poetry, and is splendidly exemplified 
 in the great poets of ancient and modern times. Vitupera- 
 tion, more or less veiled, sarcasm and innuendo, and, lastly,
 
 92 STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 cool argument, may severally be employed as weapons ; 
 and all are interesting. Nevertheless, the laws of evolution, 
 as already typified in the primitive duel for life, have to 
 be fully observed. The management of such encounters 
 leads us into the very core of dramatic art. That one of the 
 two should be humiliated is essential ; or, if the reader has 
 no favourite, he expects both to suffer by turns. 
 
 The combative interest of mankind finds endless grati- 
 fication in the fight of state parties, in rival orators, in con- 
 tests of diplomacy and tactics, in litigation before the 
 Courts of Law, and in the competitive struggle among man- 
 kind generally. The novelist finds his account in all these 
 manifestations, and augments their natural charm by his 
 genius and his art. 
 
 BENEFICENT STRENGTH. 
 
 To exhibit the various classes of Strength — Physical, 
 Moral, Intellectual, Collective, Natural, Supernatural — 
 as working for Beneficent ends, is one of the cherished 
 departments of literary effect. 
 
 Beneficence, viewed as such, appeals to our Tender 
 Emotion, and its poetical handling is ruled by that circum- 
 stance. The forms of Beneficent action that manifest the 
 quality of Strength are chiefiy the displays of unusual 
 power directed towards objects of general utility. A great 
 law-giver like Solon, the authors of civilized progress, the 
 founders of states by the arts of peace, call us at once to 
 witness their prowess in overcoming difiiculties and their 
 genius in originating improvements. King Alfred was 
 both a warlike hero and a civihzing monarch. Pope has 
 celebrated the Man of Eoss ; both Burke and Bentham 
 composed eulogies of Howard. The endurance and resource 
 of successful missionaries of civilization are coupled in the 
 same picture with their beneficent achievements. 
 
 The hberation of oppressed peoples, the rescue of the 
 victims of a strong man's cruelty, exhibit the most stimu- 
 lating forms of strength as beneficence ; the reason, obviously, 
 being that the higher satisfaction of revenge enters into the 
 case. Examples must be found where the interest is 
 divided exclusively between the dehneation of power and
 
 CELEBRATION OF CIVILIZEES. 93 
 
 the production of good. The reason for preferrin g general 
 
 utihty to the advantage of single individuals is simply that, 
 
 in this last case, our regard for the person is too engrossing. 
 
 We may commence with an example from Pope : — 
 
 Till then, by nature crown'd, each patriarch sate, 
 King, priest, and parent of his growing state ; 
 On him, their second providence, they hung, 
 Their law his eye, their oracle his tongue. 
 He from the wandering furrow call'd the food. 
 Taught to command the fire, controul the flood, 
 Draw forth the monsters of th' abyss profound, 
 Or fetch th' aerial eagle to the ground. 
 
 This is a highly successful attempt, in Pope's manner, to 
 celebrate the civilizers of early society. In addition to the 
 vigour and condensation of the language, it presents three 
 points of interest. First, the picture of the lofty elevation of 
 the chief of a primitive state. Second (lines 3 and 4), the 
 admiring submission of his people — a legitimate and effective 
 aid to the reader's feelings. Third, the detail of his feats of 
 power — all beneficent — with only the smallest tincture of 
 malignancy. The operations described are in themselves 
 familiar, and could be stated in plain prose, but Pope gives 
 them elevation by the choice of a vigorous poetical phrase- 
 ology, duly constrained into metre. 
 
 The following lines of Shelley give the effect in his more 
 glowing manner : — 
 
 For, with strong speech, I tore the veil that hid 
 Nature, and Truth, and Liberty, and Love, — 
 As one who from some mountam's pyramid 
 Points to the unrisen sun ! — the shades approve 
 His truth, and flee from every stream and grove. 
 
 The two first lines have a vigour of their own from the 
 intensity of the figure — ' tore the veil,' and from the 
 cumulation of high, but not difficult, abstractions, well 
 arranged for a climax. The simile in the three remaining 
 lines is an agreeable illustration in itself, without adding to 
 the compressed energy of the previous lines. There is a 
 slight infusion of destructive interest in ' tearing the veil,' 
 and an approach to the same interest in the sun's conquest 
 over the shades of night ; so difficult is it to achieve a great 
 effect of energy without some aid from the destructive side 
 of power. 
 
 The Hemes and Hern-worship of Carlyle includes biogra- 
 phical sketches of six great men, distinguished in different
 
 94 STKENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 ways, and all handled bj' his peculiar force of genius, which, 
 however, seldom dwells upon purely beneficent action apart 
 fi'om the interest of conquering and destructive energy. 
 The Essay on Francia, the Dictator of Paragiiay, depicts 
 the author's favourite type of the benevolent despot. 
 
 Our prose literature has done fullest justice to the theme 
 of beneficent strength. The narrative biography far sur- 
 passes the picturesque eulogy in expressing great qualities, 
 whether of body or of mind. The display of power is most 
 impressive when given with illustrative incidents testifying 
 directly to its amoiint, by difiiculty overcome, by endurance 
 and by fertility of device. Under the same method of 
 detail, the greatness of the results can be brought home. 
 The writer will not neglect to add the subjective accompani- 
 ment of expressed admiration, both on his own part, and on 
 the part of concurring admirers. 
 
 The noble tribute of Wordsworth to the heroism of 
 Grace Darling is a specimen of the poetry of Strength in the 
 widest compass. The picture of the wreck, the resolve of 
 the Daughter and the Father, the fury of the crossing billows, 
 lead up to the heroic struggle, thus briefly told : — 
 
 True to the mark, 
 They stem the torrent of that perilous gorge, 
 Their arms still strengthening with the strengthening heart, 
 Though danger, as the Wreck is neared, becomes 
 More imminent. 
 
 The rescue is a piece of fine pathos. The most characteristic 
 effect is a bold use of the subjective strain, rising to a re- 
 ligious pitch : — 
 
 Shout, ye waves, 
 Send forth a song of triumph : waves and winds 
 Exult in this deliverance wrought through faith 
 In Him whose Providence your rage hath served ! 
 Ye screaming sea-mews, in the concert join ! 
 
 Cowper's ' Chatham ' is a noble picture of beneficent 
 strength. Full justice is done both to the strength and to 
 the beneficence. First, as to the strength : — 
 
 In him Demosthenes was heard agam ; 
 Liberty taught him her Athenian strain ; 
 She clothed him with authority and awe. 
 Spoke from his lips, and in his looks gave law. 
 His speech, his form, his action full of grace, 
 And all his country beaming in his face. 
 He stood as some inimitable hand 
 Would strive to make a Paul or Tully stand.
 
 EULOGy OF INTELLECTUAL GREATNESS. 95 
 
 Next, as to the work :— 
 
 No sycophant or slave that dared oppose 
 Her sacred cause, but trembled when he rose ; 
 And every venal stickler for the yoke, 
 Felt himself crushed at the first word he spoke. 
 
 An example of lofty eulogy, by poetic comparisons ex- 
 clusively, is furnished in De Quincey's rebuke of those that 
 would mix up with Shakespeare's greatness the considera- 
 tion of his birth : — 
 
 " Both parties violate the majesty of the subject. When we are 
 seeking for the sources of the Euphrates or the St. Lavn-ence, we 
 look for no proportions to the mighty volume of waters in that 
 particular summit amongst the chain of moimtains which em- 
 bosoms its earliest foimtams, nor are we shocked at the obscurity 
 of these fountains. Pursuing the career of Mahommed, or of any 
 man who has memorably impressed his own mind or agency upon 
 the revolutions of mankind, we feel solicitude about the circum- 
 stances which might surround his cradle to be altogether tmseason- 
 able and impertinent. Whether he were born in a hovel or a 
 palace, whether he passed his infancy in squalid poverty, or 
 hedged around by the glittering spears of body-guards, as mere 
 questions of fact may be interesting, but, in the light of either 
 accessories or coimter-agencies to the native majesty of the sub- 
 ject, are trivial and below all philosophic valuation. So with 
 regard to the creator of Lear and Hamlet, of Othello and Macbeth ; 
 to him from whose golden urns the nations beyond the far Atlantic, 
 the multitude of the isles, and the generations miborn in Austra- 
 lian climes, even to the realms of the rising sun, must in every age 
 draw perennial streams of intellectual life, we feel that the little 
 accidents of birth and social condition are so unspeakably below 
 the grandeur of the theme, are so irrelevant and disproportioned 
 to the real interest at issue, so incommensurable with any of its 
 relations, that a biographer of Shakespeare at once denounces 
 himself as below his subject if he can entertain such a question as 
 seriously afifecting the glory of the poet. In some legends of 
 saints, we find that they were born with a lambent circle or 
 golden aureola about their heads. This angelic coronet shed light 
 alike upon the chambers of a cottage or a palace, upon the gloomy 
 limits of a dungeon or the vast expansion of a cathedral ; but the 
 cottage, the palace, the dungeon, the cathedral, were all equally 
 incapable of adding one ray of colour or one pencil of light to the 
 supernatural halo.'' 
 
 The grandeur of Shakespeare's work and influence is 
 finely represented by select touches in the fifth sentence 
 (' So with regard ' — ). 
 
 The intellect of Newton has often been celebrated, but
 
 96 STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 not with a full combination of the arts of eulogy. The 
 difficulties are great. As an intellectual giant, he cannot be 
 represented in the form suited to a great orator like Cha- 
 tham. It is the results of his work that best admit of 
 delineation ; more especially the bearings of his discovery 
 of gravitation. The gorgeous rhetoric of Chalmers proceeds 
 as follows : — 
 
 " There are perhaps no two sets of human beings who com- 
 prehend less the movements, and enter less into the cares and 
 concerns, of each other, than the wide and busy public on the one 
 hand, and, on the other, those men of close and studious retire- 
 ment, whom the woiid never* hears of, save when, from their 
 thoughtful solitude, there issues forth some splendid discovery, to 
 set the world on a gaze of admiration. Then will the brilliancy of 
 a superior genius draw every eye towards it — and the homage paid 
 to intellectual superiority will place its idol on a loftier eminence 
 than all wealth or than all titles can bestow — and the name of the 
 successful philosopher wiU circulate, in his own age, over the whole 
 extent of civilized society, and be borne down to posterity in the 
 characters of ever-dui'ing remembrance — and thus it is, that, when 
 we look back on the days of iSte%vton, we annex a kind of mys- 
 terious greatness to him, who, by the piire force of his under- 
 standing, rose to such a gigantic elevation above the level of 
 ordinary men — and the kings and warriors of other days sink into 
 insignificance around him — and he, at this moment, stands forth to 
 the public eye, in a pi'ouder array of glory than circles the memory 
 of all the men of former generations — and, while all the vulgar 
 grandeur of other days is now mouldering in forgetfulness, the 
 achievements of our great astronomer are still fresh in the venera- 
 tion of his countrymen, and they cai'ry him forward on the stream 
 of time, with a reputation ever gathering, and the triumphs of a 
 distinction that will never die." 
 
 This comparison with other modes of greatness, of a 
 more palpable kind, is the best available means of getting 
 over the difficulty of describing a scientific intellect. 
 
 It is the beneficent sublime that Goldsmith has caught 
 so well in his picture of the Preacher, in the ' Deserted 
 YiUage ' .— 
 
 A man he was to all the country dear, 
 
 And passing rich with forty pounds a year ; 
 
 Remote from towns, he ran his godly race. 
 
 Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place ; 
 
 Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power. 
 
 By doctrines fashioned to tlie varying hour; 
 
 Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, 
 
 More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
 
 goldsmith's peeachek. 97 
 
 His house was known to all the vagrant train ; 
 
 He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain. , 
 
 The long-remembered beggar was his guest, 
 
 Whose beard descending swept his aged brca^^t ; 
 
 The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, 
 
 Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed ; 
 
 The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay. 
 
 Sat by his fire, and talked the night away ; 
 
 Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, 
 
 Shouldered his crutch, and shewed how fields were won. 
 
 Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, 
 
 And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 
 
 Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 
 
 His pity gave ere charity began. 
 
 Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, 
 And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side ; 
 But, in his duty prompt at every call, 
 He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all ; 
 And, as a bird each fond endearment tries 
 To tempt her new-fledged offspring to the skies. 
 He tried each art, reproved each duU delay. 
 Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. 
 
 Beside the bed where parting life was laid, 
 And sorrow, guUt and pain, by turns dismayed, 
 The reverend champion stood. At his control 
 Despair and anguish fled the struggling soiol ; 
 Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, 
 And his last faltering accents whispered praise. 
 
 At church, with meek and imaffected grace, 
 His looks adorned the venerable place ; 
 Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway ; 
 And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. 
 The service past, around the pious man, 
 With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 
 E'en children followed with endearing wile, 
 And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile ; 
 His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed. 
 Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed ; 
 To them, his heart, his love, his griefs were given, 
 But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 
 As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 
 Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm ; 
 Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 
 Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 
 
 In this vivid picture nothing is introduced that would 
 mar the beneficence of the situation ; while the function of 
 the clergyman naturally lends itself to the portraiture of 
 kindly offices and good-will. The points to be noted are
 
 93 STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 mainly these : First, the intense regard for duty, which is 
 always of the nature of the sublime, but which, when (as 
 here) it is accompanied with love and zest, has a particu- 
 larly tender and attractive side. Next, the absence of 
 secular ambition (' Passing rich with forty pounds a j-ear ') ; 
 which, considering the strong hold that the passion for 
 riches has on men in general, betrays elevation of character 
 in the matter of restraint. There is next the sublimity of 
 high-toned morality ; as seen in the preacher's unbending 
 integrity and refusal to court favour by flattery and tempo- 
 rizing : ' Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power, By 
 doctrines fashioned to the varying hour '. Next comes deep 
 and broad sympathy with men, extending both to their joys 
 and to their woes, and manifesting itself in practical forms 
 — such as hospitality, relieving suffering, tendering advice. 
 Lastly conies the elevating and winning quality of charity : 
 ' Careless their merits or their faults to scan,' * And e'en his 
 failings leaned to virtue's side '. The picture is also 
 brightened by two adventitious circumstances — viz., the 
 preacher's success in his mission, and the high estimation 
 wherein he was held by his people : ' At his control Despair 
 and anguish fled the struggling soul ' ; ' A man he was to all 
 the country dear ' ; ' E'en children followed with endearing 
 wile, And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile'. 
 
 NEUTEAL STRENGTH. 
 
 Neutral Strength appeals more exclusively to our 
 sense of what is vast and majestic, aided, it may be, by 
 the mysterious and illimitable. 
 
 We now encounter Sublimity in its purest form, detached 
 alike from good and from evil consequences. The objects 
 best suited to exemplify it are the mightiest aspects of 
 Nature, terrestrial and celestial, and the infinities of Space 
 and Time. 
 
 From its very essence, this is the kind of strength most 
 difficult to sustain, and most liable to degenerate into 
 Turgidity. Deprived of the assistance of our leading human 
 emotions, it has to rest upon a consummate handling of the 
 strength vocabulary, together with the associations of 
 majesty, dignity and grandeur. 
 
 When wo name the attributes of Majesty, Dignity, 
 Grandeur, as not immediately connected with the funda-
 
 PUBE GREATNESS OP CHAEACTEE. 99 
 
 mental emotions so often appealed to, we must add that, 
 in their origin in the human mind, they cannot be altogether 
 detached from these gi-eat emotions. Majesty and Dignity 
 are nothing without a basis of Power, and Power supposes 
 efficiency for good or for evil. Yet, by a process of mental 
 growth, we attain to a species of emotion of the inspiring 
 and elevating kind, which seems to throw a veil over its 
 primary sources, and to constitute a pleasure apart. 
 
 As regards the human character, instances may be 
 furnished that have little or no direct or obvious suggestion 
 of either maleficent or beneficent qualities, but such neu- 
 trality is rarely maintained through a composition of any 
 length. 
 
 In extolling the greatness of human character, the direct 
 production of good and evil is often kept out of view for a 
 time, and the stress laid upon the element of neutral 
 strength, as grandeur or magnificence ; although, in the 
 first instance, efficiency for practical ends is what raises a 
 man upon a pedestal of imposing majesty. 
 
 The splendid eulogy of Milton by Wordsworth is a 
 specimen of greatness of character, depicted apart from the 
 consideration of Milton's work : — 
 
 Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart : 
 
 Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : 
 
 Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free. 
 
 So didst thou travel on life's common way. 
 
 In cheerful godliness ; and yet thy heart 
 
 The lowliest duties on herself did lay. 
 
 It is interesting to note the imagery invoked for this lofty 
 description. The poet's instinct led hiin to the celestial 
 sphere, as the type of intrinsic grandeur without reference 
 to the emotions of love or hate. In the end, he recurs to 
 the virtues of ordinary life, and draws a picture of moral 
 greatness with the inevitable suggestion of goodness to 
 fellow beings. 
 
 Compare the same poet's lines on Chatterton : — 
 
 I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy. 
 The sleepless soul that perished in his pride. 
 
 The operative circumstances here are, first, the epithet 
 ' marvellous,' indicating superiority and distinction without 
 saying how, where, or in what respect ; next, the energy 
 denoted by ' sleepless ' ; then the ' pride,' a fine human 
 quality when untarnished by vile accompaniments. The
 
 ICO STEENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. - 
 
 poet, however, sees fit to awaken our tender sentiment by 
 the tragic pathos of the ' perished ' ; showing how rare it is 
 to dispense with our greatest fountains of emotion. The effect 
 of the passage is thus increased, although at the expense of 
 its purity as an example under our present head. Still the 
 compression of four such epithets, in two lines, with nothing 
 to impair the harmony, has been universally accounted one 
 of the choice products of the poet's genius. 
 Again, with reference to Burns : — 
 
 Of him who walked in glory, and in joy. 
 Following his plough, along the mountain side. 
 
 We are touched at once by the lofty bearing and the 
 humble vocation of the subject, everything else being in the 
 background. 
 
 Hamlet's picture of his father is made up of Shake- 
 spearian strokes of invention, which at first appeal to our 
 acquired emotion of grandeur, but at last kindle the purely 
 malignant flame, by the disparaging comparison with his 
 murderer. 
 
 It is to Nature that we must turn for the chief exempli- 
 fication of this form of Sublimity. Greatness in Force, in 
 Space and in Time, rendered in such a way as to combine 
 an intelligible picture, with a vista of the unexpressed, 
 will impart the elevation of Strength. Each of these great 
 elements can be handled for the purpose ; and each in turn 
 can come to the aid of the others. 
 
 Force is seldom separated from effects for good or evil ; 
 Space and Time are much more of the nature of abstractions, 
 while also partaking most of the Infinite. 
 
 The Celestial Universe is by pre-eminence the region of 
 neutral might. Many attempts have been made to revel in 
 the impenetrable depths of the starry spaces. The genius 
 of Dante was impelled to it in the Farailiso, but his Ptole- 
 maic Astronomy was not well suited to the attempt. More- 
 over, it is not his way to expatiate on Nature's gi-andeurs, 
 except with immediate reference to the interests of 
 personality. 
 
 The successive locations of the Blessed in Dante's Para- 
 dise begin at the Moon, and proceed through the Planets in 
 order to Saturn. The Eighth Heaven is the Fixed Stars. 
 Here we have such glimpses as these : —
 
 CELESTIAL GRANDEUES. 101 
 
 Not for so short a moment could'st thou bear 
 Thy finger in the fire as that in which 
 I saw the sign next Taurus, and was there. 
 
 glorious stars, O light supremely rich 
 
 In every \'irtue wliich I recognise 
 As source of all my powers, 
 
 Look down once more, and see the world hoTsr wide 
 
 Beneath thy feet it lieth, far outspread ; 
 So that my heart, with joy beatified, 
 
 May join those hosts with triumph now elate, 
 
 Tliat here in this ethereal sphere abide. 
 Then I retraced my way through small and great 
 
 Of those seven spheres, and then this globe did seem 
 
 Such that I smiled to see its low estate ; 
 
 1 saw the daughter of Latona there 
 
 All glowing bright, without that shadowy veil, 
 
 Which once I dreamed was caused by dense and rare '-, 
 I saw, with open glance that did not fail. 
 
 The glories, Hyperion, of thy son, 
 
 And Maia and Dione how they sail 
 Aromid and near him, and Jove's temperate zone 
 
 'Twixt sire and son, and then to me were clear 
 
 Their varying phases as they circle on. 
 
 Piumptre' s Translation, 
 
 The subject is frequently taken up in short allusions, 
 but has as yet scarcely received an adequate treatment 
 according to the discoveries of Modern Astronomy, which, 
 instead of curbing imagination, as science often does, pro- 
 vides it with new outlets. 
 
 The cosmogony of Milton is highly artificial ; his 
 management of the great sidereal expanse is combined with 
 Satan's movements, and, only in touches, gives the sublime 
 of vastness. (See Professor Masson's delineation of the 
 Miltonic Cosmogony, in the Dissertations to Paradise Lost.) 
 
 The following lines from Pope give a nearly pure example 
 of the celestial Sublime : — 
 
 He who through vast immensity can pierce. 
 See worlds on worlds compose one universe, 
 Observe how system into system runs. 
 What other planets circle other suns, 
 V/hat varied being peoples every star, 
 May tell why Heaven has made us as we are. 
 
 The want here is a comprehensive view to include tho 
 vast and varied contents of the starry depths. The passage 
 indicates the points of interest that are usually drawn upon 
 in such flights ; the existence of human inhabitants in 
 the remote systems, and the illustration of creative might.
 
 102 STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Goethe touches the theme in the Prologue to Fausf, but 
 makes an abrupt transition to the earthly forces, which he 
 depicts with strokes of grandeur. He feels the superior 
 eihcacy of movement, and selects his points accordingly : — 
 
 Still quiring as in ancient time 
 With brother spheres in rival song, 
 
 The Sun with thunder-march sublime 
 ]Moves his predestined course along. 
 
 The Sublimity of Time is a more frequent subject of 
 treatment both in poetry and in elevated prose. It does 
 not demand the same stretch of language as the Space 
 universe : although illimitable in two directions, it admits 
 of being narrowed in the breadth of the stream. Another 
 reason for its choice is illustrative of the view taken of 
 neutral strength : it readily admits an appeal to our emo- 
 tions in the form of pathos if not also destructive malignity. 
 
 The first example is a prose extract from Chalmers : — 
 
 " (1) One might figure a futurity that never ceases to flow, and which 
 has no termination ; but who can climb his ascending way among the 
 obscurities of that infinite which is behind him ? (2) Who can travel 
 in thought along the track of generations gone by, till he has overtaken 
 the eternity wliich lies in tliat direction ? (3) Who can look across the 
 millions of ages which have elapsed, and from an ulterior post of 
 observation look again to another and another succession of centuries ; 
 and at each further extremity in this series of retrospects, stretch back- 
 ward his regards on an antiquity as remote and indefinite as ever ? (4) 
 Could wo, by any number of successive strides over these mighty 
 intervals, at length reach the fomitam-head of duration, our spirits 
 might be at rest. (5) But to thmk of duration as having no fountain- 
 head ; to think of time with no beginning ; to uplift the imagmation 
 along the heights of an antiquity wliich hath positively no summit ; to 
 soar these upward steeps till dizzied by the altitude we can keep no 
 longer on the wing : for the mind to make these repeated flights from 
 one pimiacle to another, and instead of scalmg the mysterious eleva- 
 tion, to lie baflled at its foot, or lose itself among the far, the long 
 withdrawing recesses of that primeval distance, wliich at length merges 
 away into a fathomless unknown ; this is an exercise utterly discom- 
 fiting to the puny faculties of man." 
 
 This fine passage works up the sublimity of duration, through 
 great resources of language and figure, assisted by the skilful use 
 of intermediate gradations leading to a climax. The special 
 quality of strength appealed to is a vastness that simply over- 
 powers us, and illustrates our insignificance and nothingness, 
 without doing us any other harm. For the salie of being lifted to 
 the conception of such immense power, we offer ourselves up as 
 exemplary victims. 
 
 (1) The first sentence draws a questionable contrast between an
 
 CHALMERS ON ETERNITY. 103 
 
 endless future and an infinite past ; making it appear, without 
 obvious justification, that the future is, in conception, the least 
 arduous of the two. This contrast adds nothmg to the effect of 
 the passage ; the power commences with the second member of 
 the sentence — ' Who can climb his ascending way among the 
 obscurities of that infinite which is behind him ? ' The author is 
 naturally led to adopt the figure of Interrogation, and sustains it 
 tlnrough the next two sentences. 
 
 (2) This sentence is merely varying the statement of the 
 position, by help of the author's opulent vocabulary. ' "Who can 
 travel in thouglit along the track of generations gone by, till he 
 has overtaken the eternity which lies in that direction '? ' The 
 language here is cumbrous, notwithstanding its power. A little 
 variation might be tried. ' Who can carry his thoughts along the 
 inmmierable generations gone by, and overtake the eternal com- 
 mencement of them all ? ' 
 
 (3) ' Who can look across the millions of ages which have 
 elapsed, and from an ulterior post of observation look again to 
 another and another succession of centuries ; and, at each further 
 extremity in the series of retrospects, stretch backward his regards 
 on an antiquity as remote and indefinite as ever ? ' The force of 
 the language is fully sustained, and the operation of gradmg well 
 carried out. 
 
 (4) ' Could we, by any number of successive strides over these 
 mighty intervals, at length reach the fountain-head of duration, 
 our spirits might be at rest.' The last clause is not the best that 
 we could desire, but the form of the sentence, in summing up, as 
 it were, the result of the previous one, is highlj' effective. 
 
 (5) Now comes the clmiax, which is grandly sustained. To 
 reach the higliest pitch of the language of strength, strong negatives 
 are essential. 
 
 The author has done everything that could be required of him 
 in his bold undertaking. He has provided a series of the most 
 powerful strokes of language, each rising perceptibly above the 
 one previous, until the strain could be carried no higher. The 
 real climax is reached at ' fatliomless Tmkno%vn '. The concluding 
 clause is a transition that might easily have been a bathos ; but is 
 saved by the intensity of the language. 
 
 It is noticeable that the author employs figures derived from 
 space relations, much more than the proper vocabulary of duration. 
 
 Hardly any better instance can be given of the pure or neutral 
 Bublime. It shows how vast must be the scale of the quality to 
 make an impression comparable to the subUmity of maleficent or 
 beneficent strength. 
 
 Examples of the theme are frequent with the poets. The 
 concluding lines of the ' Pleasures of Hope ' need only be 
 referred to. Its examination shows at a glance that other 
 emotions besides duration in its vastness are appealed to.
 
 104 STRENGTH — EXEMrLIFICATION. 
 
 The following is from Shelley : — 
 
 Yet pause, and plunge 
 Into Eternity, where recorded time. 
 Even all that we imagine, age on age, 
 Seems but a point, and the reluctant mind 
 Flags wearily in its unending flight, 
 Till it sink dizzy, blind, lost, shelterless. 
 
 This might be taken as a poetical condensation of the 
 passage from Chalmers. 
 
 Historical time, past and futm-e, is thus pictured in 
 ' Locksley Hall ' : — 
 
 When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed ; 
 When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed ; 
 
 When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see ; 
 
 Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be. 
 
 This limitation to historical time makes a case of personal 
 human interest ; as is usual with more limited surveys of 
 the past and the future. 
 
 The sublime of terrestrial amplitudes, masses and 
 moving powers, with more or less k^f personifying aid, is 
 abundant in poetry. It is one of the products of the 
 growing sensibility to Nature that recent ages can boast 
 of. See, for example, the pictures of Mont Blanc, by 
 Coleridge, by Shelley, and by Byron, where the sublime of 
 mass is as nearly pure as may be. 
 
 Still more eflicacious is the momentum of masses in 
 motion, as seen in rivers, floods, ocean waves and tides, 
 volcanic outbursts, earthquakes, and the great appliances of 
 human art. Thus : — 
 
 Along these lonely regions, where retir'd 
 From little scenes of art, great Nature dwells 
 In awful solitude, and nought is seen 
 But the vdld herds that own no master's stall, 
 Prodigious rivers roll their fattening seas. 
 
 Any further attempt to exemplify Neutral Strength in 
 typical purity is needless ; the tendency of manifested 
 power to run into the channels of strongest personal emotion 
 is sufliciently apparent. Accordingly, it is reserved for a 
 more promiscuous selection of passages to illustrate the 
 Subhme in all its multiplicity of aspects and constituents.
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S STORM DESCRIPTIOiNS. 105 
 
 PROMISCUOUS PASSAGES. 
 
 Among the loftiest flights of Shakespeare's subHmity, we may 
 place a well known passage in ' Lear '. It illustrates the poetry of 
 destructive energy, and makes us feel how much this exceeds in 
 effect the finest handling of either beneficent or neutral strength. 
 It is the parallel to the Macbeth challenge to the witches, but 
 still more densely compacted. 
 
 Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks ! rage ! blow 1 
 
 You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout 
 
 TiU you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks 1 
 
 You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, 
 
 Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thimderbolts. 
 
 Singe my white head ! And thou, all-shaking thunder, 
 
 Strike flat the thick rotmidity o' the world ! 
 
 Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once, 
 
 That make ingrateful man. 
 
 L. 1. The phrase ' crack your cheeks ' is wanting in dignity, 
 unless we suppose the speaker in a contemptuous and defiant 
 mood. It has a redeeming point in the familiar figiure of a cherub 
 blowing hard with distended cheeks. 
 
 L. 2. The conjunction ' cataracts ' and ' Imrricanoes ' is meant 
 to prepare for the drenching in the next line ; but hardly expresses 
 it. The precedence should be given to ' hurricane,' whose fore- 
 most effect is wind, with the incidental accompaniment of furious 
 rains, to which the cataract would then point. 
 
 L. 3. ' Till you have drenched our steeples, di-o^vned the 
 cocks,' is powerful, but extravagant. 
 
 L. 4-6. The lightning is embodied in the ' sulphurous and 
 thought-executing fires ' ; neither epithet is specially applicable. 
 ' Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts ' is a grand conjunc- 
 tion of epithets for thunder ; ' oak-cleaving ' is more conceivable 
 than 'thought-executing'. 'Singe my white head' is barely re- 
 deemed from feebleness by the intensity of the speaker's passion. 
 
 L. 7 contains one of Shakespeare's grander strokes of con- 
 densed energy. He takes up the globe in a breath, and proposes 
 to strike it flat ; although the greatest exaggeration of the might 
 of thiuider is unequal to the attempt. 
 
 L. 8 repeats the unsurpassable figure in the Macbeth passage, 
 the destruction of our race, and of all living beings, at one stroke. 
 It wotdd be the revocation of the earth to its inorganic state, prior 
 to the supposed evolution of life. 
 
 The storm in ' Julius Caesar ' attains an equal, if not a greater, 
 pitch of sublimity. 
 
 Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth 
 Shakes like a thing imfirm ? O Cicero, 
 I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds 
 Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen 
 
 6
 
 106 BTEENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Tlie ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, 
 To be exalted with the threatening clouds ; 
 But never till to-night, never till now, 
 Did 1 go through a tempest dropping fire. 
 Either there is a civil strife in heaven. 
 Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, 
 Incenses them to send destruction. 
 
 The aid of a comparison is first invoked, by qnoting what 
 seems the very acme of stormy rage. ' I have seen tempests — the 
 threat'ning clouds.' Both wind and ocean are depicted by images 
 and incidents of tremendous energy, without a break or a fall. 
 The exaltation of the sea to the tlureatening clouds is hyperbolical, 
 but not extravagant. 
 
 Next comes the apphcation — 
 
 But never tUl to-night, never till now, 
 Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. 
 
 This is the grandest image of the whole ; it has the merit of pic- 
 turesqueness m a still higher degree than the previous description ; 
 wlrile the idea of ' dropping fire ' is suggestive of destructive might 
 at the utmost pitch. 
 
 The climax has now been reached, and the three concluding 
 Hnes are a falling away. The reference to the gods might be such 
 as to sustain the effect, but for that end a more concentrated and 
 intense expression was wanted. The explanation offei'ed is at best 
 prosaic. The introduction of the alternatives makes it too much 
 a matter of intellectual balancmg, and is incompatible with high 
 passions. The last line contains the effective thought, and could 
 have been embodied so as to sustain the energy at the requisite 
 height. 
 
 Compare Byron's Storm in the AJps : — 
 
 Far along, 
 From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, 
 Leaps the hve thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, 
 But every mountain now hath found a tongue, 
 And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, 
 Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud ! 
 In this description, and in what follows, the poet rejoices in the 
 mere display of power, apart altogether from its effects. He 
 achieves a great success in his choice of language, both for vast- 
 ness of space and for intensity of force. It is impossible, never- 
 theless, to withhold the emotioniil consequences from the simple 
 manifestation of power. Thus — 
 
 — let me be 
 A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, 
 A portion of the tempest and of thee I 
 Here we have a frank avowal of the source of our liking for the 
 powers of Nature; we become sharers in the energy whose effects 
 we witness.
 
 Shelley's peometheus. 107 
 
 Tlie Nature symbolism comes out most fully in this stanza: 
 
 Sky, moimtains, river, winds, lake, liglitnings ! ye I 
 With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul 
 To make these felt and feeling, well may be 
 Things that have made me watchful ; the far roll 
 Of your departing voices, is the knoll 
 Of what in me is sleepless, — if I rest. 
 But where of ye, oh tempests ! is the goal ? 
 Are ye like those within the human breast '? 
 Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest ? 
 
 A more complete identification of self with Nature's forces could 
 hardly be conceived. 
 
 The quarrel of JiTpiter and Prometheus is one of the renowned 
 situations of classical mythology and poetry. The sublime of 
 heroic defiance of oppression, backed by imlimited endurance, is 
 exemplified in the handling of the myth. To us, it is at every 
 point too gigantic and extravagant in its horrors to be an agreeable 
 tale. We Hke to hear of suffering, but not on the scale of Prome- 
 theus. Such a degree of coarse, physical torture is beyond the 
 possibility of redemption. The conception partakes of savagery ; 
 whUe the continviance is exaggerated beyond our power to fohow 
 it. One thousand years, one hundred yetirs, a single year, would 
 be as telling as three thousand. 
 
 The fiction has, nevertheless, a poetic value. It stretches a 
 poet's invention to the utmost to cope with its extravagance : and 
 the result may be a series of splendid passages, welcome on their 
 own account, and capable of becoming hyperbolical illustrations of 
 actual incidents in human life. Such are the Shakespearian bursts 
 in 'Macbeth,' 'Hamlet,' and 'Lear'. Whether Shelley, in 'Pro- 
 metheus Unbound,' be equal to the occasion, is a matter for critical 
 inquiry. The opening passage is as foUows : — 
 
 Monarch of gods and daemons, and aU spirits — 
 But One — who throng those bright and rolling worlds 
 Which Thou and I alone of Uving things 
 Behold with sleepless eyes ! regard this earth 
 Made multitudinous with thy slaves, whom thou 
 Eequitest for knee worship, prayer, and praise, 
 And toil, and hecatombs of broken hearts. 
 With fear and self -contempt and barren hope : 
 
 The burden of this strain is severe denunciation of Jupiter's 
 tyranny, and its contemptible results in the wholesale creation of 
 slaves and hypocrites ; a picture of the typical despot. 
 
 WhUst me, who am thy foe, eyeless in hate 
 Hast thou made reign and triumph, to thy scom, 
 O'er mine own misery and thy vain revenge.
 
 103 STRENGTH — EXEMrLIFICATION. 
 
 Three thousand yeai'S of sleep-iansheltered hours, 
 And moments aye divided by keen pangs 
 Till they seemed years, torture and solitude, 
 Scorn and despair — these are mine empire : — 
 Here we have the lofty boast of Prometheus that he too had been 
 made a monarch and a victor ; had triumphed over three thousand 
 years of agony. Moral heroism has attained god-like dimensions. 
 
 More glorious far than that which thou surveyest 
 From thine imenvied throne, O mighty God I — 
 Almighty, had I deigned to share the shame 
 Of thine ill tyranny, and hung not here 
 Nailed to this wall of eagle-baflling mountain, 
 Black, wintry, dead, unmeasured ; without herb, 
 Insect, or beast, or shape or sound of life. 
 Ah, me ! alas ! pain, pain, ever, for ever. 
 
 This is mere iteration, not to say needless repetition, and scarcely 
 adds to the force of what went before. A poet may go back upon 
 himself in order to strike out new effects. Here we have merely 
 an expansion of the dignity of triumphing over suffermg, and a 
 more realistic detail of the nature of the piniishment. 
 
 While the language is choice and well-compacted, the poet 
 has not realised a grand and original burst of poetrj', whether in 
 conception, in figure, or in the movement of the verse. 
 
 Campbell's prose description of the launch of a ship of war is 
 illustrative of the sublime among the artificial constructions of men. 
 
 " When Shakespeare groups into one view the most sublime 
 objects of the rmiverse, he fixes on the cloud-capt towers, the 
 gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples. Those who have ever 
 witnessed the spectacle of the launching of a ship of the line, will 
 perhaps forgive me for adding this to the examples of the sublime 
 objects of artificial life. Of that spectacle I can never forget the 
 impression, and of having witnessed it reflected from the faces of 
 ten thousand spectators. They seem yet before me — I sympathize 
 with their deep and silent expectation, and with their final burst 
 of enthusiasm." 
 
 It is an effective heightening of a sublime spectacle thus to 
 record the impression produced upon the mind of a spectator, and 
 still better xipon a vast body of spectators. Its position would 
 be improved, however, by being made to follow the description of 
 the object. We cannot be too soon put in possession of the con- 
 crete image that everything is to turn upon. 
 
 " When the vast bulwark sprung from her cradle, the calm 
 water, on which she swung majestically round, gave the imagina- 
 tion a contrast of the stormy element on which she was soon to 
 ride." 
 
 This contains the description of the object in terms that imply 
 vastness and force of the neutral kind. The closing cix'cumstanco
 
 ^ THE OCEAN. 109 
 
 is not so happy. The cahn water would not of itself suggest the 
 stormy element ; our own knowledge supplies it, when we put our 
 thoughts on the stretch for the pm-pose. The concluding sentence 
 pursues the theme. 
 
 " All the days of battle and the nights of danger which she 
 had to encomiter, all the ends of the earth which she had to visit, 
 and all that she had to do and to suffer for her coimtry, rose in 
 awful presentiment before the mind ; and when the heart gave her 
 a benediction, it was like one pronounced upon a living being." 
 
 It is now seen how little of the sublimity is neutral, and how 
 much is dependent on the invoking of emotion, avowedly heroic 
 and beneficent, but tacitly also destructive. 
 
 The Ocean is a testing case of the handling of Strength raised 
 to the pitch of Siiblimity. It offers a seemingly neutral power, 
 and is capable of being treated as such. "When, however, we refer 
 to examples, we discover that emotional interest, apart from mere 
 strength, is usually superadded. 
 
 To an unbiassed mind, the sea is not very elevating or calcu- 
 lated to excite intense emotion. There are exceptional individuals 
 formed to take delight in the sea-faring life ; but to the mass of 
 men, its interest is factitious and only made up by the poetic art. 
 
 Our nature poets have greatly enhanced the charm of land 
 scenery, by felicity of handling ; and so with the greatly inferior 
 attractions of the sea. 
 
 For a combination of simple yet effective phraseology, set in a 
 melodious line, there is nothing to surpass Spenser's — 
 
 World of waters wide and deep. 
 
 The poet is content with superinducing two space epithets on the 
 figru^e obtained from the world. 
 Mnton's adaptation — 
 
 Rising world of waters dark and deep — 
 
 discards the spatial expanse for the term of awe and mystery, 
 'dark'. 
 
 Byron's passage, at the close of ' Childe Harold,' is an almost 
 unbroken appeal to the interest of pure malignity. The grandeiu* 
 of the phraseology has a redeeming effect, but ought not reconcile 
 us to the diabolical sentiment of stanza 180. Malignant strength 
 \eigns in a more subdued form in 181. In the succeeding stanza, 
 the same terrific superiority to the greatest of human things, the 
 empires of the past, is illustrated. In 183, it is 'a glorious mirror, 
 where the Almighty's form glasses itself in tempests ' — still the 
 destructive side. For a moment he qualifies this with the niore 
 neutral sublimities of boundless expansion and eternal duration. 
 It is also the ' tlirone of the Invisible ' — another piece of sym- 
 bolism — without express mention of destructive wrath. But the 
 malignant tone is prominent in the closing line — 
 
 Thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone !
 
 110 STEENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Stanza 184 introduces Lis ovm personality, with toxiches of 
 affectionate interest — 
 
 And I have loved thee, Ocean. 
 
 He goes on to say — 
 
 For I was as it were a chUd of thee, 
 And trusted to thy billows far and near, 
 And laid my hand upon thy niane. 
 
 There is here a sort of redeeming kindly feeling that softens the 
 harshness of the general strain, yet not so as to do away with the 
 exclusiveness of the malignant vein throughout. 
 
 "We now turn to the well-known apostrophe of Barry Cornwall 
 (B. W. Procter), where the interest of malignant power is still 
 apparent, althoiigh more veiled ; the element of strength being 
 more or less neutral. 
 
 O thou vast ocean ! ever-sounding sea 1 
 Thou symbol of a drear inunensity ! 
 
 The epithet 'vast' is of course appropriate, as belonging to 
 the vocabulary of strength in expansion of space. ' Ever-sounding ' 
 is an aid to the conception of power. The ' drear immensity ' en- 
 deavours to augment the strength by an admixtm-e of dread, a 
 questionable and precarious expedient. 
 
 Thou thing that windest round the solid world 
 Like a huge animal, which, downward hurled 
 From the black clouds, lies weltering and alone. 
 Lashing and writhing till its strength be gone. 
 
 This is more a simile of harmony and siu-prise than an exalting 
 comparison. The sea looked at without any poetical assistance is 
 quite as impressive as such a simile can make it. 
 
 Tin' voice is like the thunder, and thy sleep 
 
 Is as a giant's slumber, loud and deep. 
 
 Again an allusion to the sound, which miglit have been combined 
 with the former. Whether the hackneyed use of the tlumder 
 exalts the roar of the ocean in a storm is somewhat doubtful; still 
 more so is the comparison to the most powerful giant that fable 
 ever stamped on our imagination — a pictiure wantmg alike in re- 
 semblance and in adequacy. 
 
 Thou speakest in the east and in the west 
 At once, and on thy heavily-laden breast 
 Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life 
 Or motion, yet are moved and meet in strife. 
 
 Tlie first circimistance is intended to illustrate the activity as well 
 as the expanse of the ocean, but is noways remarkable for its 
 efTectiveness. The next is something 2>icturesque and suggestive 
 of power: the sustaining of fleets, one of oiu: most energetic' agen- 
 cies for destruction. The 'shapes that have no life or motion,
 
 BAREY Cornwall's treatment. 111 
 
 and yet meet in strife,' may not be very intelligible, but the fact 
 of ' strife ' always comes home to our combativeness. 
 
 The earth hath nought of this ; nor chance nor change 
 Eufifles its siirface, and no spirits dare 
 Give answer to the tempest-wakened air ; 
 But o'er its wastes the weakly tenants range 
 At will, and wound its bosom as they go. 
 
 The earth's want of mobility of surface is here quoted as an un- 
 favourable contrast to the sea. The contrast may be easily over- 
 done, seeing the many compensating advantages of the solid land. 
 The poet goes on : — 
 
 Ever the same, it hath no ebb, no flow ; — 
 But in their stated round the seasons come, 
 And pass like visions to their wonted home, 
 And come again and vanish ; the young spring 
 Looks ever bright with leaves and blossoming ; 
 And winter always winds his sullen horn, 
 Yv'hen the wild aiitumn with a look forlorn 
 Dies in his stormy manhood ; and the skies 
 Weep, and flowers sicken, when the siunmer flies. 
 
 This depreciatory comment on terrestrial things has a poetic valu e 
 in itself, but hardly succeeds in advancing the ocean in our regards ; 
 the two elements are so distinct in their whole nature, that we 
 cannot extol one at the expense of the other. 
 
 There is more force in the concluding lines : — 
 
 Oh ! wonderful thou art, great element ; 
 And fearful in thy spleeny humours bent, 
 And lovely in repose. 
 
 The combination of wonder, terror and loveliness is so far eflTective. 
 Taken in company with previous allusions, it shows the need of an 
 appeal to the destructive capability of the sea in the attempt to 
 stir our emotions. At the same time advantage is taken of certain 
 loving aspects that it can assume : — 
 
 — thy summer form 
 Is beautiful, and when thy silver waves 
 Make music in earth's dark and winding caves, 
 I love to wander on thy pebbled beach, 
 Marking the sunlight at the evening hour, 
 And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teach — 
 Eternity — Eternity — and Power. 
 
 It is a pleasing but grovmdless assiunption, that the sea remains 
 tranquil in siunmer, and reserves its fury for winter. The com- 
 bination ' silver waves ' is picturesque and agreeable. The sornid 
 of the sea is once more invoked, as music in the ' dark and wind- 
 ing caves ' : a slight but admissible exaggeration. The author next 
 adds his own personality to the scene, a usual and commendable
 
 112 STEEXGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 device, if well managed. The ' pebbled beach ' is a pictiiresque 
 reminder of the shore. ' Marking the sunlight at the evening 
 hour' is a pleasing cu-cumlocution for sunset, but not especially 
 connected with the sea, as it might be. To hearken to the 
 thoughts suggested by the ocean might add to the emotional 
 influence of the subject, provided they were more adequately 
 given than in the words of the closing line, which are wanting in 
 special appropriateness. ' Eternity ' is not peculiar to the sea ; 
 its highest type in the known universe woiild be the stars. 
 
 The other apostrophe by the same author is in a more exciting 
 strain. The measui-e is rapid, like a lyric. The substance is 
 mingled with the personal history of a devotee of ocean life : — 
 
 The sea, the sea, the open sea, 
 
 The blue, the fresh, the ever free ; 
 
 "Without a mark, without a bound, 
 
 It runneth the earth's wide regions round. 
 
 There is a strain of lively familiarity with the subject, whUe the 
 grand featm'es are given in poetic touches, with scarcely a particle 
 of malignity ; strength and grandeur of the purest type prevailing 
 throughout. The writer endeavours to infect the reader with his 
 individual devotion to the ocean life ; and to do this, he trusts 
 more to his own enthusiastic manifestations than to the ocean's 
 characteristic merits. 
 
 I never was on the duU, tame shore 
 But I lov'd the great sea more and more, 
 And backwai'd flew to her billowy breast, 
 Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest ; 
 And a mother she icas and is to me ; 
 For I was born on the open sea ! 
 
 This resembles Bj'ron's closing stanza, being an attempt to stir 
 feeling by the expression of personal liking. 
 
 Even a better case is Allan Cunningham's ringing song — 
 
 A wet sheet and a flowing sea. 
 
 The being a ' sharer,' like Byron, in the manifestation of natural 
 strength is the leading idea; 'the world of waters is our home,' 
 and ' our heritage the sea '. The phenomena of storm are the 
 theme selected, and the delight in them is emphasized by con- 
 trast : — 
 
 O for a soft and gentle wind I 
 
 I heard a fair one ci'y ; 
 But give to me the snoring breeze 
 
 And white waves heaving high. 
 
 The appropriate element of the ship is introduced, dignified by 
 simile and emotional associations. 
 
 The unfathomable depths of the ocean contribute the interest 
 of mystery, which, however, is necessarily tinged with diead or
 
 THE OCEAN— WILSON. 113 
 
 awe, from its being the grave of so many myriads of our race. 
 Its countless population of animals, a small number of which 
 come to view, has a further interest in many ways ; yet not 
 miich suited to the highest strains of poetry, however valuable as 
 yielding a variety of allusions. 
 
 It is not easy to obtain from the sea the interest of beneficent 
 strength. Its beneficial office as the chief highway of human 
 intercourse on the great scale, is not often dwelt upon by our 
 poets ; tlieir instinct teaches them the superior charm of destruc- 
 tion. An example of the mode of stirring our tender feehngs may 
 be seen in these lines of Wilson : — 
 
 It is the midnight hour;— the beauteous sea, 
 
 Cahn as the cloudless heaven, the heaven discloseSj 
 While many a sparkling star, in quiet glee. 
 Far down within the watery sky reposes. 
 As if the ocean's heart were stirred 
 With inward life, a sound is heard. 
 
 Like that of a dreamer mm-muring in his sleep. 
 
 The moment of calm is chosen for the purpose ; the severe repose 
 of the starry sky is added, and the personality that is awakened 
 is of a kind to harmonize with the tranquillity of the scene. Never- 
 theless, we do not feel ourselves stirred to any great depths ; the 
 interest is only superficial and transient. 
 
 As an example of the moral sublime based on our loftiest 
 moral abstraction, we can refer to the famous 'Ode to Duty,' by 
 Wordsworth. The subject was said not to have been the author's 
 spontaneous adoption, but a well-meant suggestion of his family. 
 As a poetical topic it is burdened with disadvantages. 
 
 Duty, in matter of fact, is the severe aspect of our life : it is 
 the costly struggle we have to maintain as the price of our privi- 
 leges. By way of helpmg our feeble impulses, the attempt has 
 been always made to surround it with a halo of nobleness, which 
 is so far in the poet's favour, and makes it acceptable as an idea, 
 even when we fail in the practice. 
 
 Wordsworth's treatment, however, is too earnest to give us 
 the fuU benefit of this licence. He assumes that we are actually 
 engaged in doing what is right, and his purpose is to contrast two 
 modes of virtuous conduct — the one spontaneous, or depending on 
 natural promptings ; the other aided, strengthened and corrected 
 by the feehng of duty ; all which has the austerity of a sermon 
 rather than the geniality of a poem. The poet's success in such 
 an endeavour depends iipon the genius that he can throw into it. 
 
 The first line is boldly conceived : — 
 
 Stern Daughter of the Voice of God ! 
 
 Here is condensation and force ; but the ideas suggested have not 
 the highest pitch of congruity. A ' Daughter ' is an
 
 114 STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 object, in the ordinary acceptation, but ' stem ' detracts from the 
 tender aspect, and needs a tragic situation to give it suitability. 
 The ' Voice of God ' embodies a subhme conception ; while to 
 assign to it a daughter is to embarrass our imagination. 
 
 The remainder of the first stanza is devoid of all poetic adorn- 
 ment ; it presses home the serious side of duty, in language suited 
 to the preacher, and is forcible in that view. 
 
 The second stanza is an advance to poetry ; it affords us a 
 more cheering and elating conception. It is a pictine of those 
 that do the work of duty, with the absence of effort. The last 
 Ime is the only one that interferes with this agreeable spontaneity. 
 
 The third stanza pursues the same agreeable topic and dwells 
 upon its blessings. There is only a gentle hint, at the last, of the 
 presence of the severe monitor ; and the expression is toned down 
 so as scarcely to interfere with the general effect. 
 
 The next stanza is a confession of inability to work upon pure 
 spontaneity, and a ^vish to become perfect throxigh the aid that 
 duty supplies. This is so far a genial thought ; we like to see a 
 modest, humble demeanomr in any one, whether we imitate it or 
 not. 
 
 Another stanza expands the thought. The aim still is to com- 
 plete the virtuous type by invoking duty as a make-weight to 
 'unchartered freedom' and 'chance desires'. There is also the in- 
 sinuation of a blissful repose that is to be the reward of the high 
 combination. The burden of duty is lightened when its conse- 
 quences can be extolled. 
 
 The poet now rises above the preacher's strain, and for once 
 redeems the oppressiveness of the theme, by poetical grandeur. 
 The first couplet of the stanza — 
 
 Stem Lawgiver ! Yet thou dost wear 
 The Godhead's most benignant grace — 
 
 surmounts the objections to the opening line. ' Stem ' fits well 
 with ' Lawgiver ' ; while the indication of the alternative character 
 of benignity in the Godhead comes to us as a refreshiug suggestion, 
 and is put in its best form. 
 
 The remainder of the stanza is, in the fullest sense, poetic- 
 Four lines express the benignancy that we so much delight in : — 
 
 Nor know we anything so fair 
 As is the smUe upon thy face ; 
 Flowers laugh before thee on their beds 
 And fi-agrance in thy footing treads. 
 
 We willingly accept a representation so well adapted to relieve the 
 tension and severity of the main theme. To these lines follows 
 the poet's superb outburst : — 
 
 Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong ; 
 And the most ancient Heavens, tlu'ough Thee, are fresh and strong.
 
 byeon's loch na gaeb. 115 
 
 The grandeiir of the language triumphs over the want of relevance, 
 and justifies the extravagance of the hyperbole. The stars aro 
 faithful to their prescribed courses, and that is all we can say. 
 
 Of all the kinds of moral excellence, this, the greatest, is the most 
 difficult to invest with ever fresh poetic charm. Love and good- 
 ness, as such, more readily yield the genial glow that we associate 
 with poetry. 
 
 As a set-ofT to the splendour of Byron's mature composition, 
 we may glance at his boyish production, 'Loch na Garr'. The 
 critical instinct of Jeffrey pounced upon its weakness ; and a Une- 
 to-line examination renders its defects apparent. 
 
 Let us begin with the second half of the opening stanza — 
 
 Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains, 
 
 Round their white summits though elements war ; 
 
 Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains, 
 I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr. 
 
 The circumstances chosen and the epithets describing them are 
 common-place ; and that is not the worst. The war of elements 
 round the moimtain summits and the foaming cataracts, are spoken 
 of as so many drawbacks to be surmoimted, instead of being, in 
 the estimate of the true Nature-worshipper, the highest sources 
 of delight in themselves. There is little aptness in sighing for a 
 valley; the epithet 'dark' is purely emouonal and Ossianic; while 
 its relevance is doubtful. 
 
 Ah ! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd ; 
 
 My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid ; 
 On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd, 
 
 As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade. 
 
 The pleonasm of 'young' and 'infancy' is aggravated by the 
 notion that infants could climb the mountain. I'he second line 
 is trivial and irrelevant. In the third and fourth, the intrinsic 
 glory of the mountain is made second to the tales of bygone 
 chieftains. When he strode the pine-covered glades, his interest 
 was centred in these. 
 
 I sought not my home till the day's dying glory 
 Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star ; 
 
 For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story. 
 
 Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr. 
 
 The first half is open to the remark that the polar star is not a 
 bright star, nor in any way such a commanding object as to repre- 
 sent the starry heavens ; and there is no poetic gain in supposing 
 it bright. In the second half, we have a mere repetition, without 
 improvement, of the story of the natives.
 
 116 BTEENGTH —EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 " Shades of the dead ! have I not heard your voices 
 
 Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale ? " 
 Surely the soul of the hero rejoices, 
 And rides on the wind o'er his own Highland vale. 
 A bold apostrophe to the perished chieftains. The expression is 
 lofty, and sustained. The combination 'night-rolling breath of the 
 gale ' is not easy to the understanding, but has emotional keeping. 
 The second half is well-worded, if not very original. 
 
 Eomid Loch na Garr while the stormy mist gathers, 
 
 Winter presides in hig cold icy car : 
 Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers ; 
 
 They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr. 
 
 Here we have the defect of scenic incoherence. The stormy mist 
 is not confined to winter: 'cold icy car' is pleonastic and connnon. 
 The place given to the forms of his fathers is too dubious to stir 
 our feelings. 
 
 The next stanza is a historical contradiction to the ' chieftains 
 long perished ' : it takes us no farther back than Culloden, half a 
 century before. 
 
 I quote the conclusion — 
 
 England ! thy beauties are tame and domestic 
 To one who has roved on the mountains afar : 
 
 Oh for the crags that are wild and majestic ! 
 
 The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr ! 
 
 The language is good in itself, but unsuited to the scenery whether 
 of England or of Scotland. The word ' domestic ' is forced by the 
 rhyme to ' majestic, ' rather than suggested by the fact. Too 
 much is made of the crags and steep frowning glories of Loch na 
 Garr. There is one bold precipice, on which a Nature poet would 
 have expended his energy, but BjTon had not caught the actual 
 features of the scene that he professes to have revelled in ; or else 
 his memory had failed to reproduce the strong points' as they 
 would have been given by Scott. 
 
 The poet has made a beginning in the command of poetic 
 diction, as well as metre ; his great want is coherence and truth. 
 Moreover, his originality is as yet in abeyance; it needed the 
 stimulus of Jefirey's attack in the Edinburgh Review. 
 
 The poem has the very great virtue of lucidity, which dis- 
 tinguishes the author's compositions throughout. 
 
 Tlie next example is from Keats's description of Hyperion in 
 his palace, reigning unsubdued, yet insecm-e, after all' the other 
 Titans are overthrown : — 
 
 His palace bright, 
 Bastion'd with pyramids of glowing gold, 
 And touch'd with shade of bronzed obeUsks, 
 Glared a blood-red through all its thousand courts.
 
 KEATS'S DESCRIPTION OF HYPERION. 117 
 
 • 
 
 Arclies, and domes, and fiery galleries ; 
 
 And all its curtains of Aurorian clouds 
 
 Flush'd angerly : while sometimes eagles' wings, 
 
 Unseen before by gods or wondering men, 
 
 Darken'd the place ; and neighing steeds were heard; 
 
 Not heard before by gods or wondering men. 
 
 Also, when he would taste the spicy wreaths 
 
 Of incense, breath'd aloft from sacred hiUs, 
 
 Instead of sweets, his ample palate took 
 
 Savour of poisonous brass and metal sick : 
 
 And so, when harbour'd in the sleepy west< 
 
 After the full completion of fair day, 
 
 For rest divine upon exalted couch, 
 
 And shmiber in the arms of melody, 
 
 He paced away the pleasant hours of ease 
 
 With stride colossal, on from hall to hall ; 
 
 While far within each aisle and deep recess 
 
 His winged minions in close clusters stood, 
 
 Amazed and full of fear ; like anxious men 
 
 T\Tio on wide plains gather in panting troops. 
 
 When earthquakes jar their battlements and towers. 
 In this passage, the giant nature of Hyperion is assmned, and 
 everything is intended to harmonize with it. His gigantic body is 
 implied in his ' stride colossal ' and his ' ample palate ' ; and his 
 greatness of mind is expressed in the massive passion depicted. 
 The vast palace is described, not so that we can conceive it, but 
 with terms of vague splendour and awe. The first three lines do 
 not contain a picture ; they serve mainly to give emotional im- 
 pression ; which is kept up by the ' thousand courts, arches, and 
 domes and fiery galleries,' its 'cturtauas of Aurorian clouds,' its 
 aisles and deep recesses. 
 
 But the main object of the passage is to realize the idea of 
 vague fear, expressed in massive forms that should correspond to 
 the greatness of Hyperion himself. Unaccountable omens there- 
 fore are introduced— the blood-red glare through the palace, the 
 angry flush on the curtains, the flap of eagles' wings, the sound of 
 neighing steeds, the poisonous air exhaled for perfume. The mys- 
 tery is increased by the apparent want of relation to the circum- 
 stances in these incidents. Further, the impression is deepened 
 by the sleeplessness produced in Hyperion himself, notwithstanding 
 his strong defiance of all opposition ; and this feeling of awe is seen 
 extending also to his dependents. 
 
 Thus the impression of the passage rests on the combined 
 ideas of vastness and mystery. These two conceptions are well 
 fitted to harmonize. The chief criticism would be that there is 
 room to doubt whether some of these omens of fear, such as the 
 eagles and the steeds, are on a large enough scale to be suitable 
 for so gigantic a nature. 
 
 The effect of mystery alone may be well studied in the speech
 
 118 STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 of EHphaz in the Book of Job (Chap. IV.) : ' In thoughts from the 
 visions of the night, when deep sleep faheth on men, fear came 
 upon me, and trembUng, v.hich made aU my bones to shake. Then 
 a spu-it passed before my face ; the hair of my flesh stood np ; it 
 stood Btih, but I coidd not discern the form thereof: an image 
 was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice, 
 
 saying ,' 
 
 The mystery is here aided by the impression of fear, the vague 
 sense of a presence, the inabihty to distinguish the form, and the 
 voice proceeding from this ghostly visitant. Mj^stery is not suit- 
 able in itself to produce any powerful impression ; but it will often 
 give considerable aid to some other etTect, by raismg a vague 
 idea of thmgs beyond what have been shown. Here it is employed 
 to impress the thought of the words that follow by representmg 
 them as a voice from the spirit world ; and we have seen how it 
 supports the idea of vastness. It serves also to temper the im- 
 pressions of fear, and to aid the effects of plot interest. 
 
 The subjective type of the Sublime may be studied in Words- 
 worth's famous Sonnet : — 
 
 The world is too much with us ; late and soon. 
 Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers ; 
 Ijittle we see in Kature that is ours ; 
 "V^e have given our hearts away, a sordid boon I 
 This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon. 
 The winds that will be howling at all hours 
 And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers, 
 For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; 
 It moves lis not. — Great God ! I'd rather be 
 A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn, — 
 So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, 
 Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ; 
 Have sight of Proteus rising fi-om the sea ; 
 Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. 
 The Strength of this Sonnet comes from several distinct 
 sources. There is, first, the elevated thought of the whole. Ob- 
 serve here that while the basis of thought is subjective, the 
 weakening impression of subjectivity is to some extent removed 
 by the objective contrasts in the middle and at tJie end. Secondly, 
 there is lofty scom expressed. This is first given quietly in 
 lines 4 and 8 ; and then it comes out in a powerful burst of 
 indignation. Lastly, a considerable part of the power depends 
 upon the choice treatment of the concrete examples already 
 referred to. 
 
 The Sonnet not only exemplifies the Sublimity of great 
 thoughts, but also shows the need, in the treatment of these, for 
 having regard to Objectivity and Concreteness. Without the aid 
 of the lines thus characterized, the impression of the whole 
 would be very much weakened.
 
 FEELING. 
 
 The emotion called Tender Feeling, Love, Affec- 
 tion, the Heart — constituting the amicable side of our 
 nature — is the basis of a distinct class of sensibilities, 
 pleasurable and painful. 
 
 These, in their actual exercise, make up a large 
 amount of life interest ; while, in the ideal representa- 
 tion, through Poetry and the other arts, their sphere is 
 still further extended. 
 
 The word * feeling ' has a restricted application to Tender 
 Feeling, or Tenderness. Love and the warm affections are 
 displays of Tender Feeling. These affections are the great 
 bond of liking and union among human beings ; and they 
 are increased by being shared. Their pleasure-causing 
 efficacy is further shown by their power of soothing in 
 misery or depression ; a situation to which the term Pathos 
 is more specially applied. 
 
 SUBJECTS CLASSIFIED. 
 THE DOMESTIC GROUP. 
 
 1. In this group are included the relationship of 
 the Sexes ; the Parental and Filial relationships ; the 
 Fraternal relationships. 
 
 Love of the Sexes, one of the strongest feelings of the 
 human mind, has, in modern times especially, been found 
 capable of artistic embodiment with the highest effect. 
 It is a compound of various elements, which will have to be 
 viewed in separation. 
 
 Parental Feeling is a co-equal source of interest in actual 
 life, and also enters largely into Literature, although not in 
 the same manner or degree as the emotion of the sexes. It 
 usually constitutes but a minor incident in the working out 
 of a Love plot.
 
 120 FEELING— SUBJECTS CLASSIFIED. 
 
 The reciprocal affection of Children to Parents and the 
 attachment between Brothers and Sisters, come under the 
 same general emotion of Tender regard; but they are 
 feebler in the reality, and less capable of ideal embodi- 
 ment, than either Sexual or Parental feeling. Under peculiar 
 circumstances, they may contribute to powerful situations 
 in Poetry, and some of the grandest creations of the Greek 
 Drama depend upon them. Shakespeare's ' King Lear ' is 
 a modern example. 
 
 FEIENDSHIP. 
 
 2. Friendship is the attachment between persons 
 not of the same family, as determined by commmiity of 
 likings. 
 
 In the ancient world, the attachments between men 
 were even more celebrated than the love of the sexes. 
 
 Tennyson's In Memoriam carries this relationship, under 
 bereavement, to the loftiest strain yet attempted by any 
 poet. 
 
 CO-PATEIOTISM. 
 
 3. Between subjects of the same state and members 
 of the same society, there may originate a species of 
 attachment, occasionally rising to passionate intensity, 
 and capable of literary effects. 
 
 The sentiment is a complex one. The mere tender 
 interest is rarely strong ; the prominent examples are 
 chiefly the cases of danger from a common enemy, and are 
 such as to call forth the fighting or malevolent interest. In 
 this form, patriotic poetry is both abundant and rousing. 
 
 The neighbourly relation of citizens is one of our forms 
 of tender interest. It is an extension of the family situa- 
 tion, and grows warm upon services given and received. 
 Piivalries and jealousies likewise spring up, and give scope 
 for the mab"gn pleasures as well. In the life pictures of 
 romance, both kinds of interest are largely made use of. 
 
 BENEVOLENT INTEREST. 
 
 4. Pity for the distressed, kindness to dependents, 
 protectorship, general philanthropy, all centre in the 
 Tender Emotion, with aids from Sympathy stricdy 
 BO called.
 
 BELIGION. — TENDERNESS PERSONIFIED. 121 
 
 The workings of these various forms of benevolent 
 interest can be so represented in language as to awaken aa 
 ideal interest in our fellow-beings generally. 
 
 EELIGION. 
 
 5. The sentiment of Religious regard is a complica- 
 tion of diiferent feelings ; in its highest and purest type, 
 tender emotion has the leading place. 
 
 Eeligion, in its ideal form, consists in love of the Deity 
 and love to man for His sake. This is the substance of 
 Christ's answer to the question, ' Which is the great com- 
 mandment of the law? ' (Matthew xxii. 35-40); and it is 
 abundantly expressed, in combination with lower elements, 
 in the Psalms and in the devotional literature of Christianity. 
 
 TENDERNESS PEESONIFIED. 
 
 6. Our interest in Nature, as flowing out of per- 
 sonified and other relations to ourselves, is partly 
 Strength and partly Tenderness. 
 
 "While the interest of Strength makes the Sublime, 
 the interest of Feeling is related to Beauty. 
 
 The effects of Tenderness and Beauty, arising in the 
 natural world, are far more numerous and pervading than 
 the effects of Strength and Sublimity. Even the grandest 
 objects of the heavens, and the mightiest forces of the earth, 
 have their tender aspects, which are copiously set forth in 
 poetry. 
 
 One chief occasion for dwelling on the tender side of 
 natural things is to provide harmonious surroundings for 
 the love emotions of humanity. Nevertheless, among the 
 subjects of poetry are inanimate scenes of nature, plants 
 and animals ; all which can be made to reflect personality 
 in some of its phases. 
 
 SORROW— PATHOS. 
 
 7. Sorrow is resolvable into a manifestation of Pain 
 (however arising), partly or wholly assuaged by a gush 
 of Tenderness. 
 
 The soothing influence may, in amount, prove below, 
 equal to, or above the suffering. 
 
 The pains arising from crosses in the tender affections
 
 122 FEELING — CONSTITUENTS. 
 
 themselves — the greatest of all being the death of beloved 
 ones — are the most perfect stimulants of grief and tender- 
 ness, and are in consequence the chief instrument employed 
 for calling the emotion into sympathetic exercise. 
 
 The feeling is abused when, in literary treatment, greater 
 pains are depicted than the tender outburst can assuage. 
 We must bear with such cases in the actual world and in 
 history, but w^e need not have them reproduced in art. 
 
 CONSTITUENTS OF TENDEENESS. 
 
 1. The Tender Feelings of mankind may be referred 
 to three instinctive fomidations — Sex, Parental Feeling, 
 and Gregariousness. 
 
 The most marked of the human instincts, in connexion 
 with the Tender Emotions, are the two that relate to the 
 Sexes and to Parentage. These are intense and specialized 
 forms of the more diflused and general interest of sociability. 
 It is impossible to lay down any order of precedence among 
 the three instincts. They have characteristics in common, 
 with variety of degree. 
 
 LOVE OF THE SEXES. 
 
 2. In the Love of the Sexes, the first ingredient 
 is the Animal Passion. 
 
 This is in a great measure excluded from Art, for moral 
 reasons ; although different ages and different peoples have 
 viewed it differently, and ancient poetry could not be 
 adequately criticized witliout adverting to it. Modern 
 poets, when not ignoring it, keep it at a distance by the 
 arts of suggestion, innuendo, and other devices for refining 
 the grossness of the animal passions. 
 
 3. The next ingredient is Physical Attraction. 
 
 In man, as in many of the lower animals, each sex has 
 a characteristic physical conformation by which the other 
 sex is drawn and fascinated. The superior charm of women 
 with men, and of men with women, is explained by this 
 difference; and the more completely it is realized, the greater 
 is the beauty of the one in the estimation of the other. 
 Stature, form, structure of skin, are all to a certain degree
 
 GKOUNDS OF ATTRACTION OF THE SEXES. 123 
 
 peculiar for each sex ; and an interest is generated through 
 the several pecuHarities. 
 
 The eye is not the only sense affected by the peculiarities 
 of sex. The distinctive quality of voice aj)peals to the ear. 
 Touch and odour are also media of attraction between the 
 sexes, and between human beings generally. 
 
 The artistic embodiment of sex distinctions is complete 
 only in painting and in sculpture. The attempt to repre- 
 sent in poetry the human form and features has the defects 
 peculiar to verbal description. To whatever extent poetry 
 can overcome this disadvantage, it exceeds the power of 
 painting by appealing to a plurality of senses. 
 
 4. The third ingredient may be described as 
 Mental Attraction; the principal element being De- 
 votedness, or Reciprocal liking. 
 
 The mode of Mental attractiveness that principally ope- 
 rates to heighten the chann of sex, is reciprocal love and 
 devotion. The highest form of this Devotedness is the good- 
 ness that imparts material benefits ; next is the expression 
 of friendly interest and benevolent sentiment ; and, lastly, 
 the varied language of personal affection and endearment. 
 
 It is perfectly possible, and not unfrequent, for the one 
 sex to be drawn to the other by physical charms alone, and 
 in the absence of reciprocated affection. But the influence of 
 expressed love on one side to draw forth love on the other, is 
 a power in itself, and co-operates mightily with personal 
 attractiveness. As seen in Barry Cornwall's song — • 
 
 Man, man loves Ms steed, 
 
 For its blood or its breed, 
 For its odour the rose, for its honey the bee, 
 
 His own haughty beauty, 
 
 From pride or from duty ; 
 But I love my love, because he loves me. 
 
 5. The influence of Reciprocation of love and attach- 
 ment pervades all the forms of Tender Feeling. 
 
 This is the great force that holds human beings together, 
 without reference to the special instincts. The rendering of 
 mutual services is a basis of affection, when there is no other. 
 
 Gratitude expresses the response to favours received, 
 especially when there is no equal return in kind. It is the 
 emotion engendered by important services, and is a species 
 of tender affection to which mankind are more or less bus-
 
 124 FEELING — CONSTITUENTS. 
 
 ceptible. The interplay of assistance and kindness Is the 
 ideal of happiness tlixough every relation of society. 
 
 6. Besides reciprocal liking, the love of the Sexes is 
 promoted by every form of physical, intellectual, or 
 moral Excellence. 
 
 The various forms of physical and intellectual excellence 
 that make up efficiency for the uses of life, give attractiveness 
 or interest to personality, and augment the charm of the 
 love affection. Hence in depicting ideal characters with a 
 view to imparting interest, these other forms of excellence 
 are superadded. 
 
 The narrative of Othello's love-making, as given by him- 
 self, shows how extremely wide is the sphere of interest 
 between the sexes. 
 
 PARENTAL FEELING. 
 
 7. In the Paeental Eelation we have an instinc- 
 tive source of emotion, ranking in strength with Love 
 of the Sexes. The typical embodiment is the regard 
 of the Mother towards her own child. 
 
 The infant, besides its personal relation to the mother, 
 is characterized by helplessness and total dependence, of 
 which the most conspicuous mark is its Littleness. Maternal 
 care receives support from the accompanying fondness. 
 
 The instinct for protecting the helpless and the little is 
 not confined to the maternal breast. The father shares 
 with the mother the regard for his own offspring. People 
 that are not parents still show the paternal instinct so far 
 as to experience a protective fondness towards creatures 
 that are relatively little, weak, and dependent. 
 
 The protectorship thus manifested is difi'used throughout 
 all the relationships of mankind ; being, so far, a source of 
 benevolent impulses and a check upon our malevolent 
 promptings. To evoke this salutary as well as enjoy- 
 able attitude of mind, the picture of weakness, humility, 
 dependence, littleness, has to be drawn. The child-like 
 situation of perfect subjection and total dependence, together 
 with the diminutive form and sensuous attractions, is the 
 inspiriug cause of this variety of tender feeling. 
 
 rity for suffering, or for distress generally, may be connectefl, 
 in the depths of our nature, with the same emotional fountain, but
 
 EECIPBOCAL RELATION OF CHILD TO PARENT. 125 
 
 it has a somewhat different manifestation. It is a mixture of the 
 pain of sympathy and the pleasiu-e of tender emotion in general ; 
 and, in many eases, the pain predominates. Althouj^h, therefore, 
 it is so far a source of pleasure, it is not the same intense gratifica- 
 tion as the love of the little. A wounded elephant, or a suffermg 
 giant, would inspire pity ; but an uifant at the breast, a pet canary, 
 a child's doll, exemplify a far deeper interest. On occasions when 
 the strong are dependent on the kindness of the weak, it is not 
 uncommon to assume the fiction of the opposite relationship ; as 
 when the child applies the language of petting to its parent. 
 
 The physical and mental charms of infancy heighten, 
 but do not make, the parental fondness. Still more efficient 
 is the growth of a comiter affection on the part of the child. 
 
 There is a contribution from this source of emotion to 
 the love of the sexes, owing to the circumstance that, in man, 
 as in most of the inferior animals, the male is physically 
 stronger, as well as legally superior. The tenderness of a 
 mother for her child may be regarded as so far a type of 
 human tenderness in general. 
 
 8. The reciprocal or upward affection of the child for 
 the parent, has no natural instinct to draw upon ; and 
 is, therefore, a case of Gratitude, more or less promoted 
 by the situation. 
 
 The inferiority of the reciprocated attachment of children 
 to parents has been often noticed. It seems to be a species 
 of gratitude arising out of the sense of the long continued 
 attentions of the parent. The prodigal, when he said, 'I will 
 arise and go to my father,' was driven by stress of hunger, 
 more than by filial regard : the father overlooked all his 
 folly, and welcomed him with a gush of tenderness. In 
 endeavouring to awaken our tender interest from this source, 
 the poet or artist works at a disadvantage. Gratitude is a 
 natural product under given circumstances, and is strength- 
 ened by the sense of justice ; but it is not a first-class 
 emotion, like the sexual feeling, or the interest in the little 
 and the protected. At the same time, its opposite — ingrati- 
 tude — is a source of the acutest pain. 
 
 This is one of the difficulties felt in arousing the religious 
 regards. Christianity, recognizing the difficulty, endeavours 
 to employ to the fullest our capacities of realizing Tender 
 Feeling towards a Superior, by clothing the relation of God 
 to man with all the attributes of Fatherhood.
 
 126 FEELING — CONSTITUENTS. 
 
 9. The Fraternal feeling, though no less real than 
 the filial, is of the same infeiior kind, as compared with 
 the downward regards. 
 
 The embodiment of this Feeling, in fact or in fiction, 
 affects us but slightly. In extraordinary situations, both 
 filial and fraternal devotedness may be made touching, but 
 then only by a great expenditure of literary power. 
 
 10. Friendship grounded in personal fascination, 
 and strengthened by reciprocal attachment and kind 
 offices, may rank second to the feeling between the 
 sexes. 
 
 To make an attractive picture of friendship demands 
 nearly the same arts as the love passion. The intrinsic 
 charms and virtues of the object have to be more powerfully 
 supplemented by reciprocal attachment or devotion, than iu 
 the case of the sexual and parental regards. 
 
 GREGAEIOUSNESS. 
 
 11. Concurring with the two special instincts for 
 continuing the species, is the general soeiabihty of 
 mankind, as shown in the disposition to live in com- 
 pany, at least while the combative instinct is dormant. 
 
 Its most specific display is the Sympathy of Num- 
 bers. 
 
 The sexual and parental instincts are strongly indi- 
 vidual ; the filial, fraternal, and other friendships are also 
 individual. Gregariousness, or the general Sociability of the 
 race, is shown in the thrilling influence of numbers or 
 masses collectively. This element is necessarily conspicuous 
 in all the Patriotic displays of tender feeling. 
 
 Gregariousness supposes a certain amount of personal 
 interest in human beings individually as well as collectively. 
 Every individual man, as such, has a fellow-feeling with 
 every other. Variations in liking take their rise from the 
 great differences between individuals. Some points of 
 character awaken combativeness, some contempt or dislike ; 
 while other peculiarities develop a special interest, leading 
 to friendship and attachment in all degrees of intensity. 
 
 The exemplification of the poetic rendering of Tender
 
 OKDER OP EXEMPLIFICATION. 127 
 
 Feeling will depart from the arrangement given under 
 Strength, and will follow the order of the Classes; the 
 reference to the ultimate Constituents supplying the condi- 
 tions of effect. For clearness' sake, these Constituents may 
 now be resumed as follows : — 
 
 (1) Sexual Feeling, as Animal Passion. 
 
 (2) Sexual Feeling, as Personal Fascination ; together 
 with its presence in the other relations. 
 
 (3) The influence of Eeciprocal and Mutual Devoted- 
 ness : viewed as pervading all the species of Tender 
 Emotion, and as the chief foundation of filial, fraternal and 
 other individual attachments. 
 
 (4) The Parental Feeling : with its derivatives, love of 
 the little, the helpless and the distressed. Protection 
 generally. 
 
 (5) The Feeling of the Gregarious, or General Socia- 
 bility, conspicuous in the influence of the collective mass 
 on the individual. 
 
 The mode of appeal to these ultimate varieties of tender 
 emotion is governed by the characteristic feature of each. 
 
 VOCABULAEY OF FEELING. 
 
 1. Subjects. 
 
 Domestic group : — ' Lover,' * wooer,' ' suitor,' ' sweet- 
 heart,' 'pet,' 'darling'; 'husband," wife,' 'spouse,' 'mother,' 
 'father,' 'parent,' 'child,' 'babe,' 'infant,' 'son,' 'daughter,' 
 'boy,' 'girl,' 'brother,' 'sister' ; 'home,' 'hearth,' 'fireside,' 
 ' household gods' ; ' kinsman,' ' relation,' ' kindred,' ' blood- 
 relation,' ' forefather,' ' ancestor,' ' descendant,' ' heir '. 
 
 Friendship : — ' Friend,' ' companion,' ' mate,' ' comrade,' 
 'associate,' 'confidant,' 'bed-fellow,' ' good genius,' 'bosom- 
 friend,' ' boon companion '. 
 
 Co-patriotism :— ' Neighbour,' ' fellow-citizen,' ' fellow- 
 countryman,' ' compatriot,' ' companion-in-arms '. 
 
 The Gregarious or numbers collectively: — 'Assemblage,' 
 'multitude,' 'gathering,' 'host,' 'congregation'; 'company,' 
 'brotherhood,' 'society,' 'meeting,' 'army,' 'legion,' 'array,' 
 'troop,' 'clan,' 'tribe,' ' congress,' ' council,' ' crowd,' ' en- 
 campment,' ' flock,' ' herd,' * swarm,' ' shoal '. 
 
 Benevolent interest: — 'Benefactor,' 'philanthropist,' 
 •saviour,' 'deliverer,' 'guardian-angel,' 'good Samaritan,' 
 'Howard'.
 
 128 FEELING — VOCABULAEY. 
 
 Eeligion :— ' God,' ' Lord,' ' Heavenly Father,' ' Ee- 
 deemer,' ' Saviour,' ' Mediator,' ' Holy Spirit,' ' Comforter,' 
 ' Paraclete,' ' angel,' ' heavenly host,' ' sons of God,' ' minis- 
 tering spirits,' ' celestial visitants '. 
 
 Pathos and Sorrow: — 'Sufferer,' 'bereaved one,' 'af- 
 flicted,' 'troubled,' 'down-trodden,' 'widow,' 'orphan,' 
 ' fatherless,' ' martyr,' ' prey,' ' victim,' ' poor,' ' needy '. 
 
 2. Qualities. 
 
 Pervading names for Tender Feeling : — ' Love,' ' affec- 
 tion,' 'endearment,' 'attachment,' 'fondness,' 'passion 
 (tender),' ' warmheartedness,' ' devotion,' ' goodness,' ' kind- 
 ness,' ' benevolence,' * charity,' ' humanity,' ' sympathy,' 
 ' fellow-feeling,' ' benignant,' ' amity,' ' sociability '. 
 
 More special to the Sexes : — ' Ardour,' ' flame,' ' passion,' 
 ' devotion,' ' adoring,' ' burning,' ' smitten,' ' captivated,' 
 'charmed,' 'enraptured'; 'kissing,' 'caressing,' 'embracing,' 
 ' courting,' 'wooing'. 'Mai'riage,' 'honey-moon,' 'nuptials,' 
 ' Hymen,' ' the altar,' ' wedlock,' ' espousals ' ; ' conjugal,' 
 'connubial,' 'wedded'. 'Parental,' 'motherly,' 'fatherly,' 
 'petting,' 'nm'sing,' 'protecting,' 'pitying,' 'caring for,' 
 ' supporting,' ' watching,' ' nourishing ', 
 
 Compassion, Philanthropy: — 'Benevolence,' 'benefi- 
 cence,' 'bounty,' 'goodness,' ' kind oflices,' ' services,' ' as- 
 sistance,' ' benefits,' ' generosity,' ' sympathy,' ' pity,' 
 ' charity ' ; ' long-suffering,' ' grace,' ' forgiveness,' 'pardon,' 
 'intercession,' 'conciliation,' 'propitiation'. Eeciprocal 
 and upward Tenderness : — ' Thankfulness,' ' gratitude,' ' re- 
 sponse,' * requital,' ' acknowledgment,' * looking up to,' 
 ' reverence '. 
 
 Pains awakening Tenderness: — 'Sorrow,' 'sadness,' 
 ' woe,' ' tears,' ' crying,' ' grief,' ' distress,' ' misery,' ' trial,' 
 'trouble,' 'suffering,' 'affliction,' 'bereavement,' 'desola- 
 tion,' ' wretchedness,' ' tribulation,' ' broken heart,' ' ad- 
 versity,' ' calamity,' ' disaster,' ' bitterness,' ' sinking,' 
 ' inconsolable,' ' dejected,' ' doomed,' ' devoted,' ' undone,' 
 'despair,' 'tragic,' 'accursed,' 'ache,' 'pang,' 'agony,' 
 'anguish,' 'torment,' 'torture,' 'death,' 'the grave,' 'the 
 tomb,' ' the departed '. 
 
 Pleasures allied to Tenderness : — ' Joy,' ' delight,' 'glad- 
 ness,' 'happiness,' 'bliss,' 'youth,' 'charm,' 'glee'; 'genial,' 
 ' sweet,' 'delicious,' ' heart-felt,' 'cordial,' 'rejoicing,' 'cheer- 
 ing ' ; ' sunshine,' ' comfort,' ' calmness,' ' serenity,' 'trans-
 
 NAMES OF TENDEB QUALITIES. 129 
 
 port,' * fascination,' ' ravishment,' ' ecstasy,' ' paradise,' 
 ' Elysium,' ' seventh heaven '. 
 
 Names for Beauty employed to awaken Tenderness : — 
 'Beautiful,' 'graceful,' 'elegant,' 'comely,' 'lovely'; 'adorn- 
 ment,' ' witchery ' ; ' fair,' ' handsome,' ' delicate,' ' refined,' 
 'well-favoured,' 'seemly,' 'blooming,' 'bright,' 'brilliant,' 
 'resplendent,' ' v/ell-formed,' 'becoming,' 'tasteful,' ' classical,' 
 ' chaste,' ' courtly'. 
 
 Names for the Virtues that inspire Tender Feeling, 
 coupled with more or less of admiration : — ' Fairness,' 
 'justice,' 'equity,' 'reciprocity ' (in good offices), ' fair play,' 
 'even-handed,' 'generosity,' 'rewarding desert,' 'approba- 
 tion,' ' esteem,' ' praise,' ' regard,' ' respect,' ' honesty,' 
 ' uprightness,' ' probity,' ' fidelity,' ' constancy,' ' trust- 
 worthiness,' ' punctuality,' ' scrupulosity,' ' generosity,' 
 ' liberality,' ' nobleness,' ' purity,' ' magnanimity,' ' incor- 
 ruptibility,' 'innocence'; 'harmless,' 'blameless,' 'faultless,' 
 'dove-like,' 'angelic'. 
 
 Names for the Eeligious aspects of Tenderness : — 
 'Piety,' 'faith,' 'grace,' 'godliness,' 'reverence,' 'sacred- 
 ness,' 'devoutness,' 'sanctity,' 'holiness,' 'humility,' 'purity,' 
 'innocence,' ' sinlessness,' 'heavenly,' 'holy beauty,' 'divine 
 peace,' ' saint,' ' child of God,' ' redeemed,' ' unearthly,' 
 'heavenly-minded,' 'spiritually-minded,' 'consecration,' 'unc- 
 tion,' ' salvation,' ' redemption,' ' prayer,' ' supplication,' 
 ' adoi"ation,' ' devotion,' ' worship,' 'benediction'. 
 
 Pathos of Time: — 'Old,' 'past,' 'foretime,' ' aftertime,' 
 'ages past and future,' 'generations gone-by — to come,' 
 'antiquated,' 'forgotten,' 'eternal,' 'enduring,' 'for ever'; 
 ' Ancient of days '. 
 
 Names for the Little : — Diminutives of Grammar, ' tiny,' 
 ' lambkin,' ' atom,' ' mite,' ' pigmy '. 
 
 3. Antipathetic Vocabulary. 
 
 Diametrical opposites of Tenderness : — 'Hatred,' 'male- 
 volence,' 'revenge,' 'aversion'. Opposites from Strength : — 
 Vocabulary of strength and energy without malevolence. 
 Coarse and slang terms ; the ludicrous. Forms of misery too 
 intense to be redeemed. Exultation of triumph and victory. 
 The stately Classical vocabulary : magniloquence generally. 
 Language studiously and artificially compacted. 
 
 4. Names for Associated circumstances. 
 
 Under Figures of Contiguity was shown the use of 
 
 7
 
 130 FEELING — CONDITIONS. 
 
 adjuncts and connections in enlarging tlie means of express- 
 ing emotion. The operation is still wider. The Associated 
 language of Tenderness, in general, and of the love of the 
 sexes, in particular, embraces the harmonies of nature — 
 flowers, animals, streams, mountains, scenic effects of every 
 kind. These emotional adjuncts have been gradually in- 
 creasing and accumulating, and have been raised or 
 heightened by their continued employment in the service, 
 till they have acquired an independent power, and repay 
 their origin with interest. 
 
 Even the heavenly bodies are not exempted ; the Moon 
 being in more especial request. There is apt to be a forced 
 employment of these cold and distant bodies ; yet by 
 iteration the wished-for result is gained. The Seasons 
 alone yield a copious fund of allusion, especially after 
 having been exhaustively worked by Thomson. 
 
 CONDITIONS OF FEELING. 
 
 1. The Aids to Emotional Qualities already ^iven 
 being supposed, the requisites special to Tender Feeling 
 are little else than the general conditions applied to the 
 case. 
 
 As with Strength, so here : no mere profusion of the 
 phraseology and imagery of Tender feeling will succeed with- 
 out representative force, concreteness, cumulation, harmony, 
 ideality, originality or variety, and refining arts. 
 
 The following aids deserve special attention as bearing 
 on the quality of ieehng. Their exemplification will be 
 given afterwards. 
 
 (1) Adequate representation of the subject of the 
 emotion, by duly selecting the essential points, and omit- 
 ting all irrelevant and disturbing particulars. 
 
 (2) Additional heightening circumstances, as, for ex- 
 ample, the mental virtues of a beautiful person. To increase 
 the impression of female beauty, we sliould not introduce 
 virtues of the more masculine type, even though these may, 
 in themselves, be fitted to secure admiration. 
 
 (3) Harmonious circumstances and surroundings. These 
 will be most abundantly illustrated in connexion with the 
 Erotic form of the tender emotions. 
 
 (4) Subjective delineation, by the various modes abeady
 
 FAULTS AND FAILURES. 131 
 
 recounted (p. 11). The importance of this condition will 
 be best seen under Eeligion ; more stress being there 
 laid upon it, from the difficulties attending on the other 
 conditions, especially the first. 
 
 2. The faults most liable to occur in connexion with 
 Feeling are a further illustration of its requirements. 
 
 (1) Insipidity. This is common to all qualities, and 
 may be owing to general inadequacy of the language used ; 
 but, most commonly, it comes from want of sufficient 
 originality. 
 
 (2) Discords. The purity of the instrument, or, in other 
 words, the absence of all inharmonious accompaniments, 
 must be especially kept in view. 
 
 Discords will arise not only from the introduction of 
 language inconsistent with Feeling, but also from a failure 
 to maintain the consistency of the particular feeling in 
 question. 
 
 (3) Extravagance and Overstraining : that is to say, 
 greater profusion than the feeling is able to sustain. There 
 is frequently waste of power upon situations of an exceptional 
 kind, as in the tragedy of a first love, which, to be treated 
 at all, demands the highest power of genius in order to 
 redeem its hyperbolical character. 
 
 (4) Maudlin. This is a name for the most characteristic 
 abuse of Tender feehng. It is the employment of it in 
 excess, and out of relation to the object. The Ass of Sterne 
 is still the best-known example of gross disproportion between 
 the language of feeling and its occasion. 
 
 The assua,ging outburst of grief under pain, is the extreme form of 
 an organic process whose milder modes of stimulation are associated 
 with the tender feelLug on its genial side. If possible, nothihg should 
 be done to induce the spasmodic violence of the lachrymal flow, which 
 is a mode of weakness and exhaustion of the system. The modes of 
 refinement of the grosser passions are eminently applicable to the 
 moderating of the tender emotions, if only for the sake of its physical 
 excesses. 
 
 As with the lachrymal flow, so with the embrace ; the occasion 
 should be adeij^uato, and the actuality rare. It takes a considerable 
 development of interest to make these outward tokens acceptable in 
 artistic delineation. 
 
 (5) Confounding of Pathos and Strength. The cases 
 where these come together without mutual injury have 
 been adverted to already, and will appear again. There 
 may be rapid alternation of the two without discord.
 
 132 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 (6) Excess of the Horrible, Pain, as one of the exciting 
 causes of tender feehng, in order to be effective must be 
 kept from passing into pure horror and repugnance. This 
 is the problem that arises under the concluding species of 
 Tenderness — Sorrow or Pathos in the narrow sense. 
 
 FEELING EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 The Subjects or Classes of Tender Feeling have been 
 enumerated, and likewise the analyzed Constituents of 
 Tenderness, which are repeated in more than one class. 
 In the detailed exemplification, it will be enough to follow 
 the order of the classes, regard being had to the ultimate 
 constituents as the sui'est guide to the attainment of the 
 desired effects. 
 
 EEOTIC LITEEATUPtE. 
 
 The general conditions of Tender Feeling are appli- 
 cable to the poetry of Love, with some variations in 
 the importance attached to each. 
 
 The more special conditions of Erotic feeling in- 
 clude (1) the interest of Plot, and (2) the various means 
 of guarding against Extravagance and the Maudlin. 
 
 Harmony, Originality, Ideality, are all employed to 
 heighten, purify and refine the love emotion. It is never- 
 theless liable, by its hyperbolical nature, to repel the 
 sympathies of those that are not under its influence. This 
 difficulty is overcome by the richness of the composition, by 
 a proper degree of restraint, by bringing the passions 
 through the ordeal of sufferings and trials, and by the 
 noble behaviour of the lovers themselves. 
 
 As against mnw/Hn especially, all these arts are available. 
 So, also, is the device of alternating the interest and remit- 
 ting the strain by other passions, especially some form of 
 malevolence. Shakespeare understood the value of ridicule 
 and humour in redeeming or palliating the excesses of the 
 amorous flame. 
 
 The means available for the poetic expression of the 
 sentiment of love may be summed up as follows : — 
 
 (1) As in all other cases, we must put in the foreground 
 the description of the object. This includes, first, personal 
 charms depicted by proper selection of essential and sugges-
 
 EROTIC CONDITIONS. 133 
 
 tive particulars ; and, next, reciprocation, when it exists, and 
 all the circumstances of mental and moral excellence that 
 unite in heightening the attractions of sex. 
 
 (2) Harmonious surroundings are very largely adopted in 
 love poetry. The beauties and charms of the outer world 
 — all that department of nature interest that is akin to affec- 
 tion, — birds, flowers, streams, trees, the scenery of repose 
 and quiescence, and even the heavenly bodies — are made to 
 reflect the feelings of the entranced lover. 
 
 (3) The description or utterance of the lover's own feel- 
 ings constitutes a great part of the poetry of love. The 
 emotion may be expressed not only in direct forms but also 
 by the vast variety of effects it produces on the thoughts, 
 feelings and actions of the lover. Strong expression, being 
 natural to the emotion, is not merely tolerated but expected 
 in its utterance ; and this may be increased by comparisons 
 drawn from everything that is intense and hyperbolical. 
 Even the absence of a reciprocated affection can be made to 
 attest the vehemence of the one-sided devotion. 
 
 The passionate intensity of love, following the laws of intense 
 emotion, has many consequences. It takes away self-control, and 
 urges to hazardous deeds ; emerging sometimes in horrible crimes, 
 sometimes in heroic devotion, often in tragic conclusions. The poetic 
 representation of its workings carves interest out of the consequences 
 as well as out of the mere intensity of the feeling. 
 
 To rise to the occasion, the poet must strike out imagery both 
 intense and original, and harmonize it with the genuine amatory senti- 
 ment. These demands are rarely complied with in the highest degree. 
 As the passion is irrational and often ruinous, its exaggerations are 
 justified only by the utmost poetic charms. 
 
 (4) The interest of Plot. 
 
 No other variety of tender emotion is so well suited to 
 give the fascination of Plot : hence one reason for the adop- 
 tion of Sexual Love as the main theme in the interest of 
 Prose Fiction. The parental feeling may be as strong by 
 nature, but it does not readily fall into a narrative plot, like 
 a courtship. 
 
 The main points of interest and impoi-tance in Erotic 
 Literature may now be illustrated by a review of some of its 
 leading instances. 
 
 To begin with the Ancients. 
 
 In ancient literature, the tender sentiment between the 
 sexes had not yet reached the highest pitch. The passion,
 
 134 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 however, has never been wanting in the human race : it 
 appears in the earhest poetry, and, so far as recognized, 
 receives poetic treatment. But its hterary interest through- 
 out the ancient world ranked at a much lower figure than 
 the interest of war. Although the extraordinary charms of 
 Helen are set down as the motive of the great Trojan war, 
 she seldom appears in person ; and there are no love scenes 
 detailed, the art of the poet being expended on the warlike 
 incidents of the siege. 
 
 Nevertheless, a beginning is made in the expression of 
 feminine attractions. Both the strong and the weak points 
 of erotic description are shown in the earliest poetry of 
 Greece. 
 
 The fascination of Helen turned entirely on her personal 
 beauty, and not on her conduct ; for this was objectionable, 
 with only the redeeming qualities of kindliness and self-re- 
 proach. Her person is not described ; but the imagination 
 of the sculptor and of the painter, in after-times, helped the 
 Gi'eeks to conceive a bodily representation suited to her 
 supposed charms. The Homeric art consists in setting 
 forth the wonderful impression that she made wherever she 
 showed herself. The most notable is the testimony of the 
 elders of Troy {Iliad, Book III.), who, for a moment, excused 
 the quarrel and the war on her account, as they gazed on 
 her person while she passed by. 
 
 This mode of delineating beauty by the impression 
 made on beholders is not equal in effect to a fairly adequate 
 description of the beautiful personality itself. By enormous 
 exaggeration and iteration, it excites at last in our minds a 
 vague estimate of something in the highest degree wonder- 
 ful, but can never take the same hold of our imagination as 
 an actual picture. The expressions used by Homer are 
 intended to set in motion the erotic fancy of mankind, as 
 when he tells us that she ' had charms to soothe the soul 
 and drown the memory of the saddest things': that she had 
 ' beauty such as never woman wore '. 
 
 Postponing the pathetic domestic scene of the parting 
 of Hector and Andromache, we have to refer for the best 
 examples of Homer's treatment of the love affection to the 
 OihjHfi'y. This poem being occupied with adventures and 
 not with warlike operations, except on a very small scale, 
 finds room for the romance of the affections. Most notable 
 of all the incidents of this kind is the episode of Nausicaa,
 
 EROTIC TREATMENT IN HOMER. 135 
 
 in the Sixth Book. Ulysses, being cast ashore in the country 
 of the Phseacians, is destitute of food and raiment. He 
 encounters the royal princess with her maidens, who are 
 there by divine direction to meet him. His promptitude 
 and power of speech are called into play, as he addresses 
 the princess in terms of the most tasteful and consummate 
 flattery ; giving to all time a model of this prime art of love- 
 making : — 
 
 " I supplicate thee, queen, whether thou art a goddess 
 or a mortal ! If indeed thou art a goddess of them that 
 keep the wide heaven ; to Artemis, then, the daughter of 
 great Zeus, I mainly liken thee, for beauty and stature and 
 shapeliness. But if thou art one of the daughters of men 
 W'ho dwell on earth, thrice blessed are thy father and thy 
 lady mother, and thrice blessed thy brethren. Surely their 
 souls ever glow with gladness for thy sake, each time they see 
 thee entering the dance, so fair a flower of maidens. But 
 he is of heart the most blessed beyond all other who shall pre- 
 vail with gifts of wooing, and lead thee to his home. Never 
 have mine eyes beheld such an one among mortals, neither 
 man nor woman ; great awe comes upon me as I look on 
 thee." 
 
 Nausicaa responds, on her part, wuth equal art and 
 Belf-restraint ; she gives the hero every encouragement to 
 sue for her hand ; yet is reconciled to her fate in not being 
 successful. The approaches to love by mutual compliment 
 could hardly be better conceived or expressed. 
 
 The previous adventure of Ulysses in the island of 
 Calypso, who also was love-smitten, and had the power to 
 detain him, until divine interference ordered his release, is 
 redeemed by the fine generosity of the amorous goddess in 
 equipping him for his departure ; while he, on his side, 
 maintains a passive resistance to all her charms, in his 
 constancy towards Penelope. 
 
 The hero's next love-making is with Circe, the en- 
 chantress, whom he first subdues, and then consents to be 
 her lover, for a whole year. The poet's genius does not 
 adorn this connexion, or provide an additional example of 
 erotic treatment. 
 
 While Homer supplied a few indications of erotic art, 
 the great Tragedians almost entirely passed it over. 
 Pemale characters they had — notably Antigone ; but these 
 did not appear in the love relationships of the sexes so
 
 136 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION, 
 
 much as in the dreadful passions of strife and hatred. The 
 beginning of the erotic development of Greek poetry is seen 
 in the Lyric field ; and the first great example is the 
 renowned Sappho. Further on, in the Idyllists, and in the 
 Anthology, the delicate refinements of amatory expression 
 are cultivated to the utmost. Thus Greek poetry, as a 
 whole, supplied a copious fund of erotic diction, which was 
 extended by the Eoman poets, and handed down to modern 
 times. 
 
 The Lyric poets are wanting in story or plot, and trust 
 to energy of expression, elevation of figure and melodious 
 verse. In them, intensity is the characteristic : they show 
 love in its aspect of passionate fury, and they must be 
 judged by the principles applicable to such compositions. 
 
 The style and genius of Sappho have to be gathered 
 from her scanty remains, and from her influence on later 
 poets. The hymn to Venus acquires intensity by the form 
 of supplication, and by the elevation of the language. The 
 epithets applied to Venus, in their first freshness, are grand, 
 and yet not out of keeping with tender passion. 
 
 Venus, bright goddess of the skies, 
 To whom unnumber'd temi^les rise, 
 Jove's daughter fair, whose wily arts 
 Dehide fond lovers of their hearts ; 
 O ! listen gracious to my prayer, 
 And free my mind from anxious care. 
 
 The iteration of the last stanza serves to enforce the 
 intensity of feeling. 
 
 Once more, Venus ! hear my prayer, 
 And ease my mind of anxious care ; 
 Again vouchsafe to bo my guest, 
 And calm this tempest in my breast I 
 
 The only other complete Ode of Sappho known to us is 
 one presei-ved by Longinus as an example of the very general 
 quality of apt selection and combination of circumstances. 
 It is an accumulation of the miseries of disappointed passion, 
 and is celebrated for its accuracy of delineation. 
 
 Our interest in love scenes, as already observed, extends 
 to the pains of thwarted love. One merit of such descrip- 
 tions is, that they be truthful ; for although we may accept 
 the ideal in bliss, we do not desire misery to be exaggerated. 
 In Eomance, we are usually requited by a happy conclusion. 
 
 The thoroughly sustained intensity as well as truthful-
 
 SAPPHO. 137 
 
 neiss of Sappho's description satisfies us that she is in 
 earnest^ which is itself a great charm. 
 
 Blest as the immortal gods is he, 
 The youth who fondly sits by thee, 
 And hears, and sees thee all the while 
 Softly speak and sweetly smile. 
 
 'Twas this depriv'd my soul of rest, 
 And rais'd such tumults in my breast ; 
 For while I gaz'd, in transport tost. 
 My breath was gone, my voice was lost. 
 
 My bosoiQ glow'd ; the subtile flame 
 Ran quick through all my vital frame ; 
 O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung ; 
 My ears with hollow murmurs rung. 
 
 In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd ; 
 My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd 
 My feeble pulse forgot to play, 
 I fainted, sunk, and died away. 
 
 Sappho's contemporary, Anacreon, was a gi'eat erotic 
 genius m a different style. The characteristics of his style 
 are usually given as simplicity, grace, melody, with an 
 originality that made a fresh departure in literature. 
 
 The poetized delineation of personal heauty was greatly 
 developed by Anacreon. See the companion pictures in the 
 two odes — one describing his mistress, the other addressed 
 to Bathyllus. 
 
 Again, the joys of love, usually coupled with wine, are 
 portrayed with luxurious arts of language ; but, in this 
 portraiture, the lower aspects of the subject are chiefly 
 prominent. 
 
 He is also a master of the fancied adventures of the love 
 deity Venus and her child Cupid, so largely employed in 
 depicting the incursions of love. 
 
 He maintains a perpetual protest against the burden of 
 the Epic poets — War. 
 
 The Tragedians, as already noticed, systematically ex- 
 cluded the Love Passion ; yet Sophocles, in one short 
 passage in the Atdir/one, showed his capability of working up 
 a delineation of its power. We need to pass on to the 
 Idyllists of the third century B.C. to obtain the further 
 development of erotic poetry. Partly in Theocritus, the 
 founder of the Bucolic idylls, and still more in Bion, have 
 we the expression of the sexual passion in its full strength. 
 Theocritus supplies the picture of a Syracusan lady deserted
 
 138 FEELING— EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 by her lover, and details the fury of her revenge in terms of 
 tragic exaggeration : she resorts to magic rites, she seeks 
 the aid of poison, and indulges in all the excesses of an 
 infuriated woman. 
 
 Bion composed delicately finished love-songs, and, in one, 
 he rises to the tragic height, in setting forth the lamentation 
 of Venus for the slain Adonis ; a couple whose love and 
 misfortunes often reappear in erotic poetry. 
 
 Next to the Idyllists, we have to search the Greek An- 
 thology at large for love embodiments. Made up of short 
 poems, called Epigrams, it embraces many themes ; the 
 Amatory being but one department. The Anthology ranges 
 through all the history of Greek literature down to its 
 decadence. The greatest of the poets of the Amatory 
 series is Meleager, i'n the first century B.C. His poem in 
 praise of Heliodora is an early example of the use of flowers 
 to illustrate love. The following is Goldwin Smith's trans- 
 lation, quoted by Symonds : — 
 
 I'll twine white violets, and the myrtle green ; 
 Narcissus will I twine, and lilies sheen ; 
 I'll twine sweet crocus, and the hyacinth blue ; 
 And last I'll twine the rose, love's token true : 
 That all may form a wreath of beauty, meet 
 To deck my Heliodora's tresses sweet. 
 
 Another poet constructs a retreat for lovers under the 
 spreading branches of a plane. The translation, by VV. 
 Shepherd, runs thus : — 
 
 Wide spreading plane-tree, whose thick branches meet 
 
 To form for lovers an obscure retreat, 
 
 Whilst with thy foliage closely intertwine 
 
 The curling tendrils of the clustering vine. 
 
 Still mayst thou flourish, in perennial green, 
 
 To shade the votaries of the Paphian quean. 
 
 The later Anthology brings us to the Anacreontic Odes, 
 which have a definite amatory character, only partially 
 derived from the real Anacreon, the contemporary of Sappho. 
 Their date was subsequent to the great age of Eoman 
 Literature, which had largely included amatory subjects 
 in its sphere. Wantiiig in originality, for their time, they 
 are yet illustrative of particular mannerisms in the erotic 
 style. 
 
 The opening poetry of the Romans is made up of Tragedy 
 and Comedy ; the last represented by Plautus and Terence, 
 imitators of the Greek comedians, such as Menander. Love
 
 THE LATIN POETS. 139 
 
 is introduced only to prepare for the production of humour. 
 The love passions of the young are a mainspring of comic 
 situations, but they are assumed rather than developed. 
 
 The great poem of Lucretius, without dwelling on the 
 erotic passion, abounds in effects of tendei'ness. The stanza 
 in Gray's ' Elegy,' ' For them no more the blazing hearth 
 shall burn,' is almost literally borrowed from him. 
 
 The first erotic poet of Eome was Catullus, and with him 
 are classed three others — Tibullus, Propertius, Ovid ; while 
 Virgil and Horace contributed to enrich the amatory strain 
 of diction. 
 
 Those of the poets that made love their main theme — as 
 Catullus, Tibullus, Ovid — all labour under the common 
 defect, that they proceeded upon free love, or perfectly pro- 
 miscuous attachments, including direct reference to sensual 
 pleasure. Hence their diction, although often felicitous for 
 its own end, is not a model for the poet of the present time. 
 
 The genius of Virgil, in the JEneid, has depicted a few 
 love incidents with his characteristic grace and power. The 
 splendid delineation of Dido's love for ^neas follows Sappho 
 in illustrating the unrest of love. Her fury and despair at 
 being deserted are tragical in the extreme. The pictures in 
 both poets are heartrending, and have nothing in our eyes 
 to redeem them but the poetical dress. In Virgil's time, the 
 desertion was looked at with indifference : to us, it is a 
 serious flaw in the character of the hero, and cannot be 
 condoned by his usual reference to celestial guidance. 
 
 A highly-wrought delineation of feminine beauty, not 
 ending in a love-alliance, is furnished in the picture of 
 Camilla the Volscian huntress, of the Diana type. The 
 Latin princess, Lavinia, is won by ^neas at the termination 
 of the story — without courtship. 
 
 A considerable number of the poems of Horace deal with 
 love as their subject. They are characterized by all his 
 usual perfection of poetic form ; but as to their matter, it 
 is only the lighter aspects of love that are usually handled. 
 The charms of the fair one and the pleasures of her 
 society are often described, as well as the pains of unre- 
 quited love, but without the simplicity and intensity that 
 are natural to love in its deeper forms. They have not the 
 characteristics of sincerity and earnestness, such as were 
 noted in Sappho; their prominent features are wit and 
 elegance, without passion.
 
 140 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 The decadence of Greek literature is illustrated by one 
 remarkable love-poem — Hero and Leander. The pathetic 
 incident is known to Virgil {Genrg. III. 258) ; the working 
 out is by Musteus, a liitendeiir of the fifth century a.d. As 
 a tale of the first-sight fascination of a beautiful pair, 
 followed by love consummation under extraordinary diffi- 
 culties, and ending fatally to both, it is unique, and highly 
 wrought at every point. It is the first great example of 
 the often repeated tragedy of young lovers, — the Eomeo and 
 Juliet of the classical world. The Greek version is ex- 
 panded by Marlowe, with the tenderness peculiar to his 
 treatment of the love passion. In the original, most of the 
 arts of diction accumulated in the twelve hundred years of 
 Greek poetry may be found exemplified. 
 
 The personal charms of the lovers are given with touches 
 of high art. Thus Hero — 
 
 Her lovely cheeks a pure vermilion shed, 
 
 Like roses beautifully streak'd with red : 
 
 A flowery mead her well-turu'd limbs disclose, 
 
 Fraught with the blushmg beauties of the rose ; 
 
 But when she moved, in radiant mantle dress'd, 
 
 Flowers half unveil'd adom'd her flowing vest. 
 
 And numerous graces wanton'd on her breast. 
 
 The ancient sages made a false decree, 
 
 Who said, the Graces were no more than three : 
 
 When Hero smiles, a thousand graces rise. 
 
 Sport on her cheek, and revel in her eyes. 
 
 The poet does not neglect the powerful aid of the uni- 
 versal admiration, before introducing her destined lover — 
 
 The wondering crowds the radiant nymph admire, 
 
 And ever}' bosom kindles with desire ; 
 
 Eager each longs, transported with her charms, 
 
 To clasp the lovely virgin in his arms ; 
 
 Where'er she turns, their eyes, their thoughts pursue, 
 
 They sigh, and send their souls at every view. 
 
 Th-en comes the real lover — 
 
 But when Leander saw the blooming fair. 
 Love seized his soul instead of dumb despair. 
 
 The play of his passion, and the counter play of Hero's, 
 are given in well-sustained luxury of phrase ; and after a 
 sufficient dialogue of wooing and parrying the fair one is 
 gained : and, with fruition, the dreadful difficulties of the 
 situation are unfolded, with its tragic catastrophe. 
 
 The description of the storm, in the fatal night, attains 
 the pitch of sublimity mingled with terror.
 
 HERO AND LEANUER. 141 
 
 Nearly every device suited to such a tale is exemplified 
 to the full. The extravagance of the passion is redeemed by 
 the devotedness of the pair, and their speedy destruction; 
 while the language is throughout equal to the occasion. 
 There is all the seriousness of Sappho, notwithstanding the 
 profuse decoration growing out of the long-continued culti- 
 vation of poetic style. 
 
 The descriptive art embraces personal beauty, with 
 the addition of reciprocal attachment ; and the intensity of 
 the lovers' own feelings, heightened by the sympathy of 
 beholders. There is no additional excellence of character 
 depicted, such as to give securities for the permanence of 
 their mutual flame ; this did not enter into the early 
 romance of love. At the same time, the sacredness of the 
 marriage bond is respected, although the lovers take the law 
 into their own hands. 
 
 Marlowe has improved upon the poem in the ways suited 
 to his own genius. His description of Hero's beauty is 
 more elaborately minute ; every item of her dress being 
 turned to account. The temple of Venus, where Leander 
 was love-smitten, is also described with gorgeous and sug- 
 gestive minuteness, so as to harmonize with the great 
 occasion : this is omitted in the original. The dialogue of 
 the courtship is re-shaped, while proceeding in the same 
 Hues as iu Musaeus, 
 
 The transition to modern literature brought certain 
 changes of view which altered the forms of erotic delinea- 
 tion, while there was still a very large infusion of the 
 classical elements. The influence of the Christian religion 
 was opposed to the laxity of manners in the Pagan world ; 
 and the age of chivalry and knight errantry effected a com- 
 promise or union of the two greatest sources of human in- 
 terest — war and love. The knight-errant, moved by devo- 
 tion to some fair one, went out on a series of adventures to 
 rescue the oppressed and assist the weak, having at the same 
 time the pleasure of slaying or discomfiting his foes. 
 Chivalry established the lofty ideal of gentleness, purity or 
 chastity, truth, and protectorship. The literature of Pro- 
 vence gave birth to the troubadours, who were pre-eminently 
 the poets of love. The trouveres, whose subjects were more 
 various, were animated by the chivalrous spirit. Subse- 
 quent French literature contributed to the erotic theme.
 
 142 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 The great poets that made the earhest hterary fame of 
 Italy, were all more or less inspired by the love sentiment, 
 and gave it embodiment — Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio. 
 The age of the Renaissance culminated in Ariosto and Tasso. 
 
 In England, Chaucer, after studying French and Italian 
 models, developed his own peculiar style, and gave inimi- 
 table examples of erotic treatment. Spenser worked the 
 theme in a more idealized and elevated form ; takign 
 full advantage of both aspects of chivalry, — the malign 
 pleasure of routing enemies, and the devotion of love and 
 protectorship. 
 
 Shakespeare makes plentiful use of the love passion 
 as an ingredient in his plots ; but has not many plays 
 turning w^holly upon it : and therefore does not often tax 
 his genius to represent its highest fury. 
 
 The garden scene in Romeo and JiiUet has abundance 
 of intensity in his best manner. At the outset, Eomeo 
 bursts forth in hyperbolical references to the rising sun, 
 with a number of other celestial comparisons, all very grand 
 in themselves, but not specially adapted to suggest or to 
 support tender feeling. 
 
 Juliet appears : — 
 
 It is my lady ; 0, it is my love ; 
 
 O, that she knew she were ! 
 
 She speaks, yet she says nothing : what of that ? 
 
 He then falls into a hyperbolical strain on her beauty, still 
 making large use of the heavens and the stars ; and ending 
 with the wish to be a glove on her hand to touch her cheek. 
 An exclamation drops from her — ' Ah me ! ' He opens out 
 again with his celestial imagery, and composes by means of 
 it a splendid eulogium on her beauty. 
 
 She speaks again, still unaware that he is listening : — 
 
 Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo ? 
 
 She is bent on business; her mind is occupied with the fatal 
 feud between the families : — 
 
 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy ; — 
 Tliou art tliyself, though not a INIontague. 
 Wliat's Montague ? it is nor hand, nor foot, 
 Kor arm, nor face, nor any otlier part 
 Belonging to a man. 0, be some other name \
 
 BOMEO AND JULIET. 143 
 
 What's in a name ? that which we call a rose, 
 By any other name would smell as sweet ; 
 So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, 
 Retain that dear perfection which he owes, 
 Without that title. 
 
 She then plays upon the topic of the name, but without 
 becoming needlessly fantastical : — 
 
 Romeo, doff thy name ; 
 And for that name, which is no part of thee, 
 Take all myself. 
 
 Her mind is made up ; and her love-making consists in 
 emphatically saying so. Eomeo discovers himself, and gives 
 a new turn to both their thoughts. After mutual recogni- 
 tion, Juliet again recurs to the peril of their situation, while 
 Eomeo is high-vaunting and sanguine. 
 
 Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye 
 
 Than twenty of their swords ; look then but sweet 
 
 And I am proof against their enmity. 
 
 And again, with his usual hyperboles : — 
 
 I am no pilot ; yet, wert thou as far 
 
 As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, 
 
 I would adventure for such merchandise. 
 
 Then comes Juliet's clenching speech : — 
 
 But farewell compliment ! 
 Dost thou love me ? I know thou wilt say — Ay ; 
 And I will take thy word ; yet, if thou swear'st, 
 Thou may'st prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, 
 They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo, 
 If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully : 
 Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, 
 I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay. 
 So thou wilt woo ; but, else, not for the world. 
 In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ; 
 And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light : 
 But trust me, gentleman. I'll prove more true 
 Than those that have more cunniaag to be strange. 
 I should have been more strange, I must confess. 
 But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware. 
 My true love's passion : therefore pardon me ; 
 And not impute this yielding to light love. 
 Which the dark night hath so discovered. 
 
 The whole speech bears the stamp of sincerity and 
 depth of feeling; there are no farfetched plays of fancy; all 
 is direct, strong and plainly-worded. Nevertheless, Eomeo 
 does not follow suit ; he is back at his celestial similes :^
 
 Hi FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 La3y, by yonder blessed moon I swear 
 That tips with silver all the fruit-tree tops. 
 
 Juliet checks him, and retorts the changeableness of his 
 favourite moon. She further advises him against swearing; 
 but, if he must, then to swear by himself — 
 
 Which is the god of my idolatry — 
 
 She now falls back upon the seriousness of the situa- 
 tion : — 
 
 Although I joy in thee, 
 I have no joy of this contract to-night ; 
 It is too rash, too unad^dsed, too sudden. 
 
 This is direct enough ; but she too must now indulge in 
 similes, although not with Borneo's expansiveness. She 
 very soon reverts to business : — 
 
 Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, 
 Ere one can say — It lightens. 
 
 The simile is not so apt as to be inevitable or irresistible : 
 it is simply the poet's necessity of providing figui-ative 
 material. The same may be said of her next comparison : — 
 
 This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 
 IMay prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. 
 
 She now drops the search for figures, and is more 
 successful when using plain and homely language, in keep- 
 ing w'ith her state : — 
 
 Good night, good night ! as sweet repose and rest 
 Come to thy heart, as that within my breast. 
 
 This is the language of feeling, and yet not either original 
 or far-fetched. 
 
 The two still continue the parley, and Juliet again 
 reiterates her affection, by the help of new hyperbolical 
 comparisons : — 
 
 My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 
 :My love as deep : the more I give to thee 
 The more I have, for both are infinite. 
 
 This is too close an imitation of Eomeo, and is by no 
 means impressive or convincing. Nevertheless, taken as a 
 whole, the genuine ring of emotion accompanies her 
 speeches far more than her lover's. 
 
 Our great poets, with few exceptions, have cultivated
 
 EKOTIO EXAMPLES — ANACEEON. 145 
 
 the same field : while the creation of prose romance has 
 bestowed upon it an ever-increasing expansion. 
 
 The literature of every civilized or half-civilized nation 
 has embraced the arts and circumstances of love-making, 
 and certain recurring devices may be traced throughout ; 
 while the degree of perfection attained necessarily varies 
 with the genius of each people. Arabia, Persia, India, 
 China, Japan, afford contributions to display the passion 
 ahke in its happy and its unhappy issues. 
 
 The most characteristic form of erotic composition is the 
 growth of the sexual passion in its first outburst of youthful 
 intensity ; the consummation being the marriage union. 
 But although this consummation quenches the flame of un- 
 gratified desire, it still admits of a high order of amatory 
 feeling; and this too receives the occasional attention of the 
 poet. It appears both in the Iliad and in the Odyssey ; but 
 was not often celebrated in the ancient world. 
 
 The remaining illustrations will be chiefly cast into a 
 systematic array, with a view of indicating the causes 
 leading to success or to failure in this great emotional 
 quality. 
 
 The authors of the Anacreontic Odes had before them 
 the whole compass of classic poetry, Greek and Eoman. 
 For an example of personal description we can refer to the 
 companion Odes, 16 and 17, the one on feminine, and the 
 other on masculine beauty. The whole of Anacreon has 
 been translated by Moore, with considerable variations to 
 suit his own ideas of effect. We shall quote a portion 
 of the translation of Ode 16; and a comparison with the 
 original w'ill be further illustrative of the arts of personal 
 description. 
 
 The method of proceeding, from the hair downwards in 
 order, shows a desire to present a suggestive and cohering 
 picture of the highest beauty. The figurative accompani- 
 ments add to the impression without destroying the con- 
 tinuity of the impression. 
 
 Paint lier jetty ringlets straying. 
 Silky twine in tendrils playing ; 
 And if painting hath the skill 
 To make the spicy balm distil, 
 Let every little lock exhale 
 A sigh of perfume on the gale.
 
 146 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Tlie whole passage runs literally thus : * Sketch me 
 first tresses both soft and glossy ; and if the wax can do it, 
 sketch them also exhaling perfume'. We can judge how 
 far Moore's additions are improvements. 
 
 The poet passes to the brow, led by the contiguity to 
 the tresses : — 
 
 Where her tresses curly flow 
 Darkles o'er the brow of snow, 
 Let her forehead beain to Ught, 
 Burnished as the ivory bright. 
 
 Anacreon has simply 'ivory forehead'. The conflict of 
 comparisons between snow and ivory is Moore's. 
 The next point is the eyebrows : — 
 
 Let her eyebrows sweetly rise 
 In jetty arches o'er her eyes, 
 Gently in a crescent gliding. 
 Just com mingling — just dividing. 
 
 'Sweetly,' 'gliding,' are added by the translator: the 
 point expressed in the original is that the black arches of 
 her eyebrows should be shown as not altogether united, yet 
 imperceptibly meeting. (In the East it is still a beauty to 
 have united eyebrows.) Moore's additions are a mere excess 
 of figmres, which, though not clashing, are not suggestive of 
 a higher type of beauty, and are therefore a waste of power. 
 
 The poet, in passing to the eyes, feels the necessity of 
 rising to his utmost strain. They receive six lines in 
 Moore: four in Anacreon. First, their 'lightning': then 
 ' the azure ray of Minerva,' and ' the liquid fire of Venus'. 
 I'lie combination is somewhat vague, but the resulting 
 impression is considerable. 
 
 Moore again fails to catch the points. The words in 
 Anacreon run thus : ' And now for the eyes, make them 
 truly of fire [not lii/hfmn;/'], at once gleaming like Athene's 
 and languishing [or liquid] like Cythera's'. The reference 
 is to the statues of the goddesses. Those of Athene were 
 made with light gleaming gems, while those of Aphrodite 
 were made ' languishing ' by a slight drawing up of the 
 lower eyehd. 
 
 O'er her nose and cheek be shed. 
 Flushing white and niellow'd rod, 
 Ciradual tints — as when there glows 
 In snowy niilk the bashful rose.
 
 suckling's bride. 147 
 
 ' Nose ' and ' cheek ' are given simply as ' roses mixed with 
 milk ' ; in its simplicity a more effective combination. 
 
 Then her lips, so rich in blisses, 
 Sweet petitioner for kisses, 
 Pouting nest of bland persuasion, 
 Eipely suing Love's invasion. 
 
 In Anacreon thus : * Draw the lip as it were that of Peitho 
 [the goddess of Persuasion and handmaid of Aphrodite] 
 inviting a kiss '. The redoubling of the thought is Moore's, 
 and his additions are of very doubtful value. 
 
 Then beneath the velvet chin. 
 Whose dimple shades a love within, 
 Mould her neck, with grace descending, 
 In a heaven of beauty ending. 
 
 In the original thus : ' Within a soft chin, around a marble 
 neck, let all the Graces be flying'. 
 
 The poet passes now to the limbs, which * a lucid veil 
 shadows but does not conceal '. 
 
 Similar arts, but with greater intensity and fulness of 
 details, are bestowed on the beautiful youth, in the next 
 Ode. 
 
 The fiction of the poet, in dictating to a painter the 
 features of his beautiful pair, renders the poems all the more 
 suitable, as exemplifying personal description. 
 
 We may next refer to a celebrated modem instance : 
 Suckling's Bride, in his ' Ballad on a Wedding '. The 
 stanzas describing the bride are a mixture of descriptive 
 epithets with action, the action predominating. There is 
 no order in the selection of the features. A well-chosen 
 comparison, not too far-fetched, and very impressive, gives 
 us a general view to begin with : — 
 
 No grape that's kindly ripe could be 
 So round, so plump, so soft as she. 
 Nor half so full of juice. 
 
 The personal description begins with the finger, for 
 which the ring was too wide, and looked like a great collar 
 on a young colt's neck. This is manifestly overdone. 
 The element of the little in beauty can easily be made 
 ridiculous. 
 
 Perhaps the most admired stanza is the next in order^
 
 148 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Her feet beneath her petticoat, 
 Like little mice, stole in and out, 
 
 As if they feared the light. 
 But oh ! she dances such a way 1 
 No sun upon an Easter-day 
 
 Is half so fine a sight. 
 
 This is felt to be exquisitely suggestive ; it takes the full 
 advantage of working by action. The second half is less 
 effective ; it is one of the comparisons that operate by in- 
 tensity of degree in an alien subject. 
 
 In the stanzas on the face, the description is aided by 
 heightening figures : — 
 
 Her cheeks so rare a white was on, 
 No daisy makes comparison, 
 
 Who sees them is undone ; 
 For streaks of red were mijigled there, 
 Such as are on a Cath'rine pear, 
 
 The side that's next the sun. 
 
 This is one of the innumerable attempts to portray rich- 
 ness of complexion ; and is not unsuccessful. 
 
 Still better, however, is the stanza combining mouth, 
 chin and eyes : — 
 
 Her lips were red ; and one was thin. 
 Compared to that was next her chm, 
 
 (Some bee had stmig it newly ;) 
 But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, 
 I durst no more upon them gaze, 
 
 Than on the sun in July. 
 
 The first half is strikingly managed ; the descriptive 
 epithets are suitable and heightened by the allusion. The 
 second half flies oif upon the very frequent usage of a mere 
 intensity figure. In so far as the meaning can be inter- 
 preted, its force is dubious ; a pair of fine eyes should not 
 affect us like the sun's glare. 
 
 The poet next surprises us by taking up the mouth, 
 which is thus separated from its constituents the lips : — 
 
 Her mouth so small, when she does speak, 
 Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break, 
 That they might passage get. 
 
 There is here the same unsuitable exaggeration of smallness; 
 wliile the figure employed is harsh rather than agreeable. 
 
 In the next example, we pass beyond personal beauty, 
 w-hether in picture, or in action, or in both, and include 
 mental qualities that inspire love. So powerful is this source
 
 WORDSWOETH's ' PHANTOM OP DELIGHT '. 149 
 
 of erotic stimulus, that it may excite the passion in the 
 absence of charms of person. The effect, however, of intro- 
 ducing these quahties may be to relax attention to the others, 
 and still oftener to make a see-saw of confusing description. 
 
 Wordsworth's fine Lyric — ' She was a Phantom of De- 
 light ' — although not an erotic composition, in the 
 sense of direct love-making, yet exemplifies all the arts of 
 inspiring the love attachment. There is a delineation of 
 personal beauty, embracing form and movement, and the 
 highest graces and virtues of the mind. 
 
 She was a Phantom of delight 
 When first she gleamed upon my sight : 
 A lovely Apparition, sent 
 To be a moment's ornament. 
 
 This is to begin with a comprehensive epithet, the force 
 lying in the bold figure combined with the warm epithets 
 ' delight ' and ' lovely '. The last line is weak from the idea 
 of the ' momentary' (introduced for a purpose). 
 
 Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair ; 
 Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair. 
 
 The first feature introduced is the eyes, and the com- 
 parison is elevating no doubt, but still remote, and trite 
 from usage. The addition of Twilight gives more pic- 
 turesqueness and force, as indicating the specially brilliant 
 stars. The ' dusky hair ' is not highly suggestive, and the 
 resemblance to Twilight is not sufiiciently close. These are 
 the only bodily features referred to. 
 
 But all things else aboiat her draAvn 
 From May-time and the cheerful Dawn ; 
 A dancing Shape, an Image gay 
 To hauut, to startle, and waylay. 
 
 The comparisons of her general bearing to Ma.y-time and 
 the Dawn have a certain conventional force ; yet not much 
 actual suggestiveness or emotional elevation on the whole. 
 The 'dancing Shape and Image gay' are not especially 
 felicitous, judged by the tests of appropriateness and eleva- 
 tion. The last line works by phrases indicating the effect 
 on the beholder ; they do not run to a climax. Possibly one 
 of the ideas, as ' haunt,' expanded into an image might have 
 been more telling : the three words chosen lead the mind 
 into conflicting trains.
 
 150 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 I saw her upon nearer \iew, 
 A Spirit, yet a Woman too ! 
 
 Tliis we admire for its terseness and strength of compliment. 
 
 Her household motions light and free, 
 And steps of virgin liberty. 
 
 The same cautious determination to combine attractiveness of 
 demeanour with severe propriety of character. What 
 follows is in a like strain : — 
 
 A countenance in which did meet 
 Sweet records, promises as sweet 
 
 Somewhat deep in thought ; yet with a certain happy bold- 
 ness and comprehensiveness that we must accept and admire. 
 
 A Creature not too bright or good 
 For human nature's daily food ; 
 For transient sorrows, simple wiles. 
 Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles. 
 
 Here we have the crowning of the moral side, at the 
 expense, it may be, of the physical. The poet's intention 
 is to keep his ideal as close as possible to the real ; and his 
 words are well chosen for the end. He descends from lyric 
 heights to the homely figure of ' daily food ' ; and completes 
 the sketch by matter of fact enumeration of human realities. 
 
 And now I see with eye serene 
 The very pulse of the machme. 
 
 Here we have to excuse both a touch of mechanism and an 
 incongruity of figure. It is meant to be terse and compre- 
 hensive ; while the succeeding lines supply the expansion ; — 
 
 A Being breathing thoughtful breath, 
 A Traveller between life and death ; 
 The reason-firm, the temperate will, 
 Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill. 
 
 The first lines express in intelligible and suitable figures the 
 poet's idea of a well-balanced mind : the last two employ the 
 usual designations for practical virtue and moral excellence. 
 
 A perfect Woman, nobly planned. 
 
 To warn, to comfort, and command ; 
 
 And yet a Spirit still, and bright 
 
 With something of an angel light. 
 
 Eulogistically iterates the same reconciliation of different 
 qualities. The language is compact and forcible without 
 b<'itig original. In using lofty phrases, Woixlsworth still 
 observes a sobriety — ' soinrthitKj of an angel light '. 
 
 The whole poem is characteristic of Wordsworth. The
 
 CHAEACTEEISTICS OF WOEDSWOETH's POEM. 151 
 
 picture is idealized, yet it does not pass very far beyond 
 possibility ; and, in giving a loving personation, he combines 
 it -with the qualities that obviate the frequent and deplor- 
 able failures in love attachments. He does not lose sight of 
 those practical virtues that are the seasoning and the safety 
 ofhfe. 
 
 The combination of personal description with figurative 
 iteration and the virtues of character, would require a more 
 studied order than Wordsworth gives ; at least if he wishes 
 the ode to impress us as a whole. But this is a defect 
 attending more or less all the descriptions of poetry when- 
 ever the complication of aims is considerable. 
 
 In Wordsworth's ' Highland Girl,' we have the expres- 
 sion of tenderness well exemplified, although not with a view 
 to the sexual feeling. The most illustrative portion of the 
 poem is the environment : — 
 
 And these grey rocks : tliis household lawn : 
 These Trees, a veil just half withdrawn ; 
 Tliis fall of water, that doth make 
 A murmur near the silent Lake ; 
 This little Bay, a quiet road 
 That holds in shelter thy abode. 
 
 As a scenic description this has a merit of its own ; as re- 
 flecting the beauty of the Highland girl, it has no obvious 
 merit. 
 
 "We must now advance a step, and open the wide gate 
 of the description of the lover's own feelings by all the arts 
 that have been employed for this purpose. The forms of 
 expression are as numerous as the compass of language, and 
 cannot be classified ; yet we may exemplify the more pre- 
 valent occasions of success and failure. 
 
 The lover's feelings assume two opposite forms ; the joys 
 of prosperous love, and the pains of being thwarted. Both 
 rank among the intensest forms of human emotion ; and 
 poetry assists in bodying them forth, even to excess. 
 
 The mingling of subjective description with all the arts 
 previously illustrated, still further complicates the erotic 
 strain of composition. It renders a consecutive order more 
 and more difficult, without, however, doing away with the 
 advantages of method. 
 
 Taking this new circumstance along with those previously 
 named, and confining ourselves to the joyous side of love
 
 152 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 emotion, we may next pass in review Tennyson's 'Gar- 
 dener's Daughter ' considered as a highly artistic specimen 
 of erotic art. 
 
 Passing over the introduction, we take up the narrative 
 at the point where the two friends, both painters, take the 
 road to the gardener's cottage : — 
 
 Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite 
 
 Bej'ond it, blooms the garden that I love. 
 
 News from the humming city comes to it 
 
 In sound of fimeral or of marriage bells ; 
 
 And, sittmg muffled in dark leaves, you hear 
 
 The windy clanging of the minster clock. 
 
 The fields between 
 Are dewy-fresh, browsed by deep-udder'd Idne. 
 
 These descriptive and concrete allusions, and more to the 
 same effect — not specially in the style of the author, but 
 common to him with poets generally, — give the interval to 
 be gone over to the gardener's cottage. 
 
 The dehneation of the beauty herself commences — 
 
 Who had not heard 
 Of Rose, the gardener's daughter ? Where was ho, 
 So blunt in memory, so old at heart. 
 At such a distance from his youth m grief, 
 That, having seen, forgot ? The common mouth, 
 So gross to express delight, in praise of her 
 Grew oratory. Such a lord is love. 
 And Beauty such a mistress of the world. 
 
 This very usual mode of celebrating beauty merely whets 
 appetite ; it is but a prelude to some more definite picture 
 that we can in some measure conceive. 
 
 The poet's art shines forth in what comes next. It is 
 the feverish anticipation of the visitor that his soul would 
 be taken possession of, and his joy at the mere thought. 
 But we are not yet admitted to the sacred presence. A 
 long scenic description must intervene, ere the company 
 reach the cottage. It is worked up so as to be in harmony 
 with the lover's state of mind : — 
 
 All the land in flowery squares, 
 Beneath a broad and equal-blowing wind, 
 Smelt of the coming summer, as one large cloud 
 Drew downward. . . . 
 
 — From the woods 
 Came voices of the well-contented doves. 
 The lark could scarce get out his notes for joy, 
 But shook his song together as he near'd 
 His hapjjy home, the ground.
 
 Tennyson's ' gakdenek's daughter '. 153 
 
 The approaches to the garden are given in the poet's 
 picturesque style. The beauty herself is first disclosed in 
 the act of fixing a rose tree : — 
 
 One arm aloft — 
 Gown'd in pure white, that fitted to the shape — 
 Holding the bush, to fix it back, she stood. 
 A single stream of all her soft bro\\'n hair 
 Pour'd on one side : the shadow of tlie flowera 
 Stole all the golden gloss, and, wavering 
 Lovingly lower, trembled on her waist — 
 Ah, happy shade — and still went wavering down, 
 But, ere it touch'd a foot, that might have danced 
 The greensward into greener circles, dipt, 
 And mix'd with shadows of the common ground ! 
 But the full day dwelt on her brows, and smin'd 
 Her violet eyes, and all her Hebe bloom, 
 And doubled his own warmth against her lips, 
 And on the bomiteous wave of such a breast 
 As never pencil drew. 
 
 The poet takes full advantage of an active attitude, and 
 tills in the particulars by degrees, but without order, and 
 without much coherence. Yet his epithets are all emo- 
 tionally interesting, while some of them aid the picture : the 
 soft brown hair, the golden gloss, the violet eyes, the 
 bounteous wave of the breast. ' As never pencil drew ' is 
 an adjunct stale with repetition, but yet not to be dispensed 
 with. 
 
 She is ignorant of the approach of the two visitors, until 
 the entranced lover breaks in upon her with a speech of 
 stunning and cruel exaggeration : — 
 
 One rose, but one, by those fair fingers cull'd, 
 Were worth a hundred kisses press'd on lips 
 Less exquisite than thine. 
 
 Taken by surprise, she had no words to reply, but the 
 asking of the rose came to her rehef. She gave the rose, 
 and ' statue-like ' moved away. 
 
 The remainder of the poem is occupied with the lover's 
 feelings, which are intensified by a wide variety of descrip- 
 tive touches. First, he could not leave the spot till dusk. 
 Going home, he is exposed to his companion's banter, but 
 without effect. Then he is sleepless, kisses the rose, recalls 
 her glance in the giving of it. He feels- 
 Such a noise of life 
 Swarm'd in the golden present, such a voice 
 Call'd to me from the years to come, and such 
 A length of bright horizon rimm'd the dark. 
 
 8
 
 154 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 The torrent of the thoughts is one of the perennial effects 
 of intense emotion. The whole night is passed in such 
 dreams : — 
 
 Love at first sight, first bom, and heir to all. 
 Made this niglit thus. 
 
 Henceforth, on all manner of slight pretexts, he goes day 
 by day to the cottage ; feasts his eyes on her beauty ; at 
 last succeeds in obtaining the return of affection. Endear- 
 ments commence, which are graced by the poet's usual 
 scenic accompaniments. Then comes the conversation, 
 leading up to exchange of vows : — 
 
 Yet might I tell of meetings, of farewells — 
 
 Of that which came between, more sweet than each, 
 
 In whispers, like the whispers of the leaves 
 
 That tremble round a nightmgale. 
 
 And the fine pathetic conclusion : — 
 
 Behold her there. 
 As I beheld her ere she knew my heart, 
 M3' first, last love ; the idol of my youth. 
 The darling of my manhood, and, alas ! 
 Now the most blessed memory of mine age. 
 
 Such an avowal is a worthy climax of affection, redeeming 
 it from passing fancy and frivolity, and attesting its extraor- 
 dinary power for conferring happiness. 
 
 "We may remark again on the efficacy of a plot or story 
 to bring out the strength of love, and to carry home the 
 impression. The other arts have become apparent in the 
 course of the review. 
 
 The painful phase of the love passion has already re- 
 ceived prominence in the illustrations from the ancient 
 poets. It will be sufficient now to make a brief allusion to 
 Pope's ' Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard '. 
 
 Pope had the advantage of starting from Eloisa's own 
 letters, which kept him in the right track in his delineation. 
 He superinduced upon this his own poetic treatment, ac- 
 cording to his judgment of effect. 
 
 Eloisa having embi'aced the conventual vows, is yet un- 
 able to suppress her passion for Abelard ; and the struggle 
 of the two motives, tearing her heart to pieces, is the prevail- 
 ing idea of the poet's handling. He takes care to picture the 
 gloomy interior of the convent as a reflex of her feelings ; 
 and follows with an expression of her furious attachment
 
 pope's eloisa. 155 
 
 to the beloved one ; making her reflect, as she goes on, upon 
 the dismal incongruity between her feelings and her present 
 duties. She appeals to Abelard still to write to her, and let 
 her share his gi'iefs. She can think of nothing but his image, 
 while she goes mechanically through her religious devotions. 
 But this is a fight too dreadful to be borne. Her spirit 
 again re-asserts the fulfilment of her vows. She bursts 
 out — 
 
 No, fly me, fly me 1 far as pole from pole. 
 
 She falls back upon virtue and immortality as her single 
 aim ; prepares her mind for an early consignment to the 
 tomb. Even then she invokes the presence of Abelard, to 
 perform the last offices and see her departure ; and prays 
 that one grave may unite them, as a memento to lovers in 
 after ages. 
 
 The tragedy of the whole situation dispenses with many 
 of the usual modes of representing a lover's distress. The 
 conflict with religious duty alone suffices to attest the 
 violence of the passion. 
 
 The chief adverse criticism would be that the language 
 is too uniformly dignified and rhetorical for the natural 
 utterance of intense passion. 
 
 The question may be put — Why should a poet depict such 
 great misery ? The love passion when prosperous is pleasant 
 to sympathize with ; pleasure calls up pleasure in our minds. 
 
 The answer is this : — Such a picture of devotion to 
 a man inspires us with the grateful feeling of nobleness of 
 character in its most touching form. "We like to contem- 
 plate the fact that one human being is able to evoke such a 
 strength of devotion in the breast of another; it is an 
 enormous possibility of happiness to both, when fortune 
 smiles on their felicity. 
 
 The next example is from Scott. In Tlie Lady of the 
 Lake, Canto I., Ellen is portrayed in three fine stanzas. In 
 the first, her approach in the boat, in response to the 
 stranger's horn, is embedded in scenic description, and she 
 is left in an attitude compared to a Grecian statue. Her 
 person is delineated in a succession of circumstantials of 
 beauty, falling under Scott's usual comprehensive sketch. 
 
 And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 
 A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 
 Of finer form, or lovelier face.
 
 156 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Her complexion is given by an indirect allusion :— 
 
 What though the sun with ardent frown, 
 Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — ■ 
 The sportive toil, which, short and light, 
 Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, 
 Served too in hastier swell to show 
 Short glimpses of a breast of suow. 
 
 He next passes to her step — 
 
 A foot more light, a step more true, 
 
 Ne'er from the heath flower dash'd the dew ; 
 
 Again her speech — 
 
 What though upon her speech there hung 
 The accents of the mountain tongue, — 
 Whose silver sounds, so soft, so dear. 
 The listener held his breath to hear. 
 
 This is so far well, although somewhat meagre as a picture. 
 In another stanza, the poet enters upon her costume, and 
 through it gives some additional touches to the personal 
 description : — ■ 
 
 And seldom was a snood amid 
 
 Such wild luxuriant rmglets hid. 
 
 But the main subject of the stanza is her beauty of charac- 
 ter, which is supposed to be revealed at once in her fine ex- 
 pression. The development of the story is the comment on 
 the qualities here set forth, and includes the details of her 
 love-making, and her destiny in correspondence thereto. 
 
 The poem of Matthew Arnold entitled ' Switzerland ' 
 is a noble expression of love sentiment, through its various 
 phases, including final separation. The picture of the loved 
 one is given with well-managed brevity. 
 
 I know that graceful figure fair, 
 
 That cheek of languid hue ; 
 I know that soft enkei'chief'd hair, 
 
 And those sweet eyes of blue. 
 
 An addition is afterwards made, without confusing what 
 went before : — 
 
 The lovely lips, with their arch smile that tells 
 The unconquer'd joy in which her spirit dwells. 
 
 The chief feature of the poem is the splendid series of 
 descriptions of Swiss scenery, which are supposed to mingle 
 harmoniously with the love emotions, or at all events to 
 provide alternatives to the story. These descriptions have
 
 MATTHEW Arnold's ' Switzerland *. 157 
 
 a merit of tlieir own, and their connexion with the author's 
 feehngs is traceable in so far as they minister to the intensity. 
 The stanzas describing the feelings in direct terms are ex- 
 pressed in well-selected circmiistances. 
 
 Forgive me ! forgive me ! 
 
 Ah, Marguerite, faLti 
 Would these arms reach to clasp thee ! 
 
 But see 1 'tis in vain. 
 
 Far, far from each other 
 
 Our spirits have grown ; 
 And what heart knows another ? 
 
 Ah ! who knows liis own ? 
 
 Blow, ye winds ! lift me with you! 
 
 I come to the wild, 
 Fold closely, Nature ! 
 
 Tliine arms round thy child. 
 
 The ' Farewell ' is energetic and reflective : — 
 
 And women— things that live and move 
 
 Mined hy the fever of the soul — 
 They seek to find in those they love 
 
 Stern strength, and promise of control. 
 
 The closing stanzas take an elevated strain : — 
 
 How sweet, unreach'd by earthly jars, 
 
 My sister ! to maintain with thee 
 The hush among the shining stars, 
 
 The calm upon the moonlit sea ! 
 
 The windings of this remarkable poem are suggestive of 
 the love passion, not merely as regards its intensity, but for 
 its persistence under want of encouragement — perhaps the 
 highest testimony that can be rendered to the depth and 
 power of the feeling. 
 
 The love poetry of Burns affords an abundant exemplifi- 
 cation of nearly all the known devices peculiar to the theme. 
 Consisting of short effusions, mainly songs, it almost 
 entirely excludes plot-interest ; occasionally there is a slight 
 use of narrative, as in ' The Soldier's Eeturn ' and ' There 
 was a lass and she was fair '. 
 
 In regard to description of the object of love. Burns 
 usually depends on a few unsystematic touches, expressive 
 of the emotion excited. Sometimes, however, he does enter 
 on a regular enumeration of the qualities that charm ; but 
 his method even then is rather to elevate the object by 
 comparisons, both figurative and literal, than to give any
 
 158 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 distinct impression of the personal appearance. The follow- 
 ing is an example : — 
 
 Her looks were like a flower in IMay, 
 Her smile was like a simmer morn ; 
 
 She tripped by the banks of Earn, 
 As light's a bird upon a thorn. 
 
 Her bonny face it was as meek 
 
 As ony lamb upon a lea ; 
 The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet, 
 
 As was the blink o' Phemie's ee. 
 
 More elaborate specimens of the same method are seen 
 in ' Young Peggy ' and ' On Cessnock Banks '. In ' Sae 
 flaxen wei'e her I'inglets,' we have an exceptional amount of 
 detail : — 
 
 Sae flaxen were her ringlets. 
 
 Her eyebrows of a darker hue, 
 Bewitchingly o'er-arching 
 
 Twa lauglung een o' bomiy blue. 
 
 But the remainder proceeds in his more usual manner: — 
 
 Her smiling sae wiling 
 
 Wad make a wretch forget his woe • 
 
 What pleasure, what treasure, 
 Unto these rosy lips to grow ! 
 
 Among charms to be celebrated, Bums does not over- 
 look the mental, especially reciprocated affection. The 
 refrain of one song is, ' She says she lo'es me best of a',' and 
 of another, ' Kind love is in her ee'. 
 
 But the largest constituents of Burns's love songs are 
 the expression of the lover's own feelings and the use of 
 harmonizing circumstances. The methods employed under 
 these heads are sufliciently varied. 
 
 The pleasure of the loved one's presence, the pain of 
 absence, the memory of past happiness, the hope of meeting 
 again, and the pain of unrequited love are all employed for 
 the purpose ; and these are expressed with the hyper- 
 bolical intensity appropriate to love. Eeference may be 
 made to 'Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast?' 'Corn Eigs,' 
 'My ain kind dearie,' and ' Mary Morison'. Sometimes a 
 striking and characteristic action is happily introduced, as 
 in ' Mary Morison' : — 
 
 Yestreen, when to the trembling string 
 Tlie dance gacd through the lighted ha', 
 
 To thee my fancy took its wing — 
 1 sat, but neither heard nor saw.
 
 LOVE POETEY OF BURNS. 159 
 
 The all-pervading association of love and the constant 
 thought of the loved one are most fully expressed in 'O' a' 
 the airts ' : — 
 
 I see her in the dewy flowers, 
 
 I see her sweet and fair ; 
 I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 
 
 I hear her charm the air : 
 There's not a bonny flower that springs 
 
 By foixatam, shaw, or green, 
 There's not a bonny bird that sings, 
 
 But minds me o' my Jean. 
 
 Chivalrous devotion and self-sacrifice are prominent in 
 ' The Highland Lassie ' and ' Oh, wert thou in the cauld 
 blast?' Thus:— 
 
 Or did Misfortune's bitter storms 
 
 Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, 
 
 Thy bield should be my bosom, 
 To share it a', to share it a'. 
 
 As regards harmonizing circumstances, Burns's use of 
 allusions to the outer world are frequent and happy. Be- 
 sides using Nature for the expression of feeling in harmony 
 with it, he very often employs it by way of contrast to the 
 emotion uttered ; and, not unfrequently, the greater part of 
 the song consists of references to natural objects employed 
 in one or other of these ways. For direct harmony of nature 
 with feeling, we may refer to ' Afton Water,' ' Wandering 
 Willie,' 'Highland Mary,' and 'Mary in Heaven' ; and for 
 the stronger expression of feeling by contrast, we may quote 
 ' Ye banks and braes,' ' My Nannie's awa',' and ' Menie '. 
 In the * Birks of Aberfeldy ' we have nature minutely 
 described, but for its own sake ; the connexion with love, 
 which appears in the refrain, hardly affects the description. 
 In general, emotional fitness, rather than full representation 
 of the objects, is aimed at ; the stanza already quoted from 
 ' Mary in Heaven ' being more elaborate than usual (Pakt 
 FiEST, p. 297). 
 
 Take the following as illustrating direct harmony : — 
 
 Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, 
 And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ; 
 How wanton thy waters her snawy feet lave, 
 As gath'rmg sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave. 
 
 The quiet beauty thus depicted is in unison with the aspect 
 of love described ; and the action of the last two lines har- 
 monizes with the feeling.
 
 160 FEELIXG —EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 The following shows the force of contrast : — 
 
 The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn, 
 And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn ; 
 They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw, 
 Tliey mind me o' Kaiinie — and Nannie's awa' ! 
 
 Burns has given expression to conjugal love in * John 
 Anderson' and 'Of a' the airts '. The pathos and the 
 humour of love, which he also abundantly expresses, come 
 more directly under other heads.* 
 
 Browning has frequently dealt with love, and in ways 
 pecnhar to himself. In accordance with the general nature 
 of his poetry, his object is not to set forth the aspects of 
 the emotion that are commonly experienced and easily 
 recognized, but to bring to light its most subtle charac- 
 teristics and workings. The means most frequently 
 employed by him is the monologue, which is so managed as 
 to reveal the changing phases of the speaker's feelings. 
 Hence his love poems often appear not so much the expres- 
 sion of love, as the stiuhj of it ; and the words of the speakers 
 leave the impression of self-analysis rather than the direct 
 utterance of feeling. What is gained in originality and 
 intellectual interest is to some extent lost in general im- 
 pressiveness. 
 
 Take as an example ' Two in the Campagna '. It is a 
 picture of a man's love, expressed by himself to the woman 
 beside him ; and its burden is a complaint of the imperfec- 
 tion of his love, notwithstanding his earnest desire that it 
 should be more perfect. 
 
 How is it under our control 
 To love or not to love ? 
 
 I would that you were all to me, 
 
 You that are just so much, no more. 
 Nor yours nor mme, nor slave nor free ! 
 
 Where does the fault lie ? What the core 
 O' the wound, siuce wound must be ? 
 
 He can find no exi)lanation or see means of help : — 
 
 Only I discern — 
 Infinite passion, and tlic paia 
 Of finite hearts that yearn. 
 
 • Ttis wnrtliy of nhservation that the sensiiivl aspects of love are almost, if not 
 nltopctluT, fxdndeil from tin- s.Tioiis love songs of Hii'ns. When they apiiear, it is 
 in his liinnomus picc«»>, whbthur »ongs ur puuiiu. lie is in this a cuntrast to Ana- 
 creou and others.
 
 LOVE IN BROWNING. — GEORGE ELIOT. 161 
 
 The situation is thoroughly original, and the utterance 
 powerful ; but it Is so entirely apart from ordinary experi- 
 ence that it can hardly arouse sympathetic emotion, though 
 it may furnish fresh material for thought. 
 
 Unrequited love has been frequently treated by Brown- 
 ing, and in a manner different from most other poets. His 
 favourite attitude of mind for the rejected lover is calm 
 resignation, without anger, despair, or the lessening of 
 respect for the person loved. This is the spirit portrayed 
 in ' The Lost Mistress,' ' The Last Eide together,' and ' One 
 Way of Love '. The purity and elevation of love are thus 
 depicted with great power ; but the effect is more allied 
 to Strength than to Pathos. The situation of undeclared 
 love, whose opportunity is removed by death, as pictured in 
 * Evelyn Hope,' though evoking the same calm strength of 
 character, is more purely pathetic. Thus : — ■ 
 
 I loved you, Evel3m, all the while ! 
 
 My heart seemed full as it could hold; 
 There was place and to spare for the frank young smile, 
 
 And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold. 
 So hush, — I will give you this leaf to keep : 
 
 See, I shut it inside the sweet cold hand 1 
 There, that is our secret : go to sleep ! 
 
 You will wake, and remember, and understand. 
 
 Browning's use of harmonizing circumstances is abun 
 dant and appropriate, though often subtle in the application. 
 Personification is happily employed to express this harmony. 
 (See an example under Personification.) 
 
 One of George Ehot's finest attempts at picturing 
 beauty, both of person and of ways, is seen in 'Hetty 
 Sorrel '. The description begins with a sort of generic view 
 of Hetty's beauty, as that of ' kittens, or very small downy 
 ducks making gentle rippling noises with their soft bills, or 
 babies just beginning to toddle and to engage in conscious 
 mischief. The defective side of su 'h an attempt is partly 
 the difficulty of making it combine with the actual form and 
 features of Hetty, and partly the introduction of another 
 interest, the interest of the child-like, which the description 
 of a full-grown girl should not depend upon. Perhaps the 
 intention was to bring out the idea of the unconscious and 
 unreflective enjoyment of life, with which the character 
 harmonizes throughout. 
 
 The actual details do not receive the assistance of an
 
 162 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 orderly method, and we may doubt whether any imagina- 
 tion could figure this remarkable beauty. 
 
 "It is of little use for me to tell you that Hetty's cheek 
 was like a rose-petal, that dimples played about her pouting 
 lips, that her large dark eyes hid a soft roguishness under 
 their long lashes, and that her curly hair, though all pushed 
 back under her round cap while she was at work, stole back 
 in dark delicate rings on her forehead, and about her white 
 shell-like ears ; it is of little use for me to say how lovely 
 was the contour of her pink and white neckerchief, tucked 
 into her low plum-coloured stuff bodice, or how the linen 
 butter-making apron, with its bib, seemed a thing to be 
 imitated in silk by duchesses, since it fell in such charming 
 lines, or how her brown stockings and thick-soled buckled 
 shoes lost all that clumsiness which they must certainly 
 have had when empty of her foot and ankle — of little use, 
 unless you have seen a woman who affected you as Hetty 
 affected her beholders, for otherwise, though you might con- 
 jure up the image of a lovely woman, she would not in the 
 least resemble that distracting kitten-like maiden." 
 
 Much more should have been said of her figure and 
 complexion to begin with, instead of repeating it in snatches, 
 in the course of the story. The dress naturally goes with 
 the person, especially when studied for effect. The author, 
 however, takes care to exhaust for the present the still life 
 picture, before adding the following sentences : — 
 
 "And they are the prettiest attitudes and movements 
 into which a pretty girl is thrown in making up butter — 
 tossing movements that give a charming curve to the arm, 
 and a sideward inclination of the round white neck ; little 
 patting and rolling movements with the palm of the hand, 
 and nice adaptations and finis) lings which cannot at all be 
 effected without a great play of the pouting mouth and the 
 dark eyes". 
 
 But the comparisons to the ' divine charms of a bright 
 spring day,' when we strain our eyes after the mountain 
 lark, or wander through the still lanes when the fresh- 
 opened blossoms fill them with a saci*ed, silent beauty like 
 that of fretted aisles ' — though pleasing in themselves, are 
 scarcely an aid to the conception of a beautiful girl. All 
 comparisons should be subordinated to some definite form 
 ami picture, such as we could keep steadily before the mind, 
 tlnouj^hout the narrative.
 
 POETRY OF CONJUGAL AFFECTION. 163 
 
 This is the same author's dehneatioa of the heauty of 
 the arm : — 
 
 " Who has not felt the beauty of a woman's arm? — the 
 unspeakable suggestions of tenderness that lie in the dimpled 
 elbow, and all the varied gently lessening curves down to the 
 delicate wrist, with its tiniest, almost imperceptible nicks ia 
 the firm softness. A woman's arm touched the soul of a great 
 sculptor two thousand years ago, so that he wrought an image 
 of it for the Parthenon which moves us still as it clasps 
 lovingly the time-worn marble of a headless trunk. Maggie's 
 "was such an arm as that — and it had the warm tints of life." 
 
 The poetizing of Conjugal Love is already seen in the 
 Iliad. Homer's happy instinct chooses the one situation 
 most favourable to its display, that is, the conjoint interest 
 of parents in their child ; and other poets have followed in 
 the same track. The parting of Hector and Andromache 
 will be adduced in connexion with the parental feeling. 
 
 The picture of our First Parents in Paradise Lost (IV. 
 288) is a fine ideal of the personal beauty appropriate to the 
 two sexes respectively. It is conceived with Miltonic stern- 
 ness. As an ideal, it labours under impossibility of fulfil- 
 ment, and is not in itself interesting ; authority without 
 coercion, and absolute submission, qualified only by — 
 Sweet, reluctant, amorous delay. 
 
 The attempt to picture wedded happiness, although less 
 frequent than the delineation of love-making, is still a poetic 
 theme. The personal charms, and the first energy of 
 youthful fire are gone. There remains, in the rarer in- 
 stances, the concentrated attachment to one ; while, in a 
 still greater number, there is the mutual play of good 
 oftices, and the resolve to cherish the love affection as the 
 main ingredient of happiness for both. With these condi- 
 tions, and with power and obedience kept in the back- 
 ground, an ideal of conjugal happiness can be presented, 
 such as not to be painfully at variance with human ex- 
 perience. 
 
 PARENTAL FEELING. 
 
 1. With a view to exemplify the poetry of Parental 
 Feeling, we must recall the distinctive characteristics of
 
 1G4 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 that feeling. While generically agreeing with Sexual 
 Love, it has certain specific differences. 
 
 The parental emotion has the generic quality of Love or 
 Tenderness, which is definable mainly by appeal to our 
 experience, although partly also by contrast with the emo- 
 tion of Strength. In point of intensity, it ranks as a first- 
 class emotion of the pleasurable kind. 
 
 The chief difference between parental and erotic feeling 
 has reference to the object. In the purest form of parental 
 feeling, we have, instead of a full-grown individual of the 
 other sex, an infant in the first and dependent stage of life. 
 Littleness, weakness, dependence, are substituted for reci- 
 procal and equal regards, mutual affection and mutual 
 services. The infant can render nothing; it is a passive 
 object of pleasurable contemplation. 
 
 To the charms of littleness and dependence, the infant 
 may add the sensuous beauties, which are the ornament and 
 the charm of mature life, and especially distinguish the 
 feminine personality. While all infants have the character 
 of weakness, they differ among themselves in these other 
 attractions. 
 
 Infancy, however, soon learns to repay the parental affec- 
 tion with endearments of its own kind, so as to make a 
 slight commencement of reciprocal tenderness. Moreover, 
 it can either maintain a behaviour consistent with its posi- 
 tion ; or it can resort to self-assertion and rebellion, thereby 
 dissipating the charm proper to its character. The ideal 
 excellence of the child is expressed by Innocence ; in other 
 words, by subordination to the will of its elders. As 
 strength increases, its growing virtues heighten the parental 
 feeling. 
 
 Thus, then, for the pui'poses of poetry, the hinges of de- 
 lineation are, first and fundamentally — the little, the weak, 
 the helpless, the dependent.* Second, the sensuous beau- 
 ties — a variable quantity. Third, the responsive smiles and 
 tokens of reciprocated affections. Fourth, the expression 
 of the parent's own feelings, and the supposed virtues of 
 
 • In (lisciissinsr Die f(mncI;itions of I?eauty, groat stress was laid hy Burke on the 
 little— tlif iHCMiliaiity of tlio iiifimt fascinatidn. Nevertheless, a certain limit must 
 be placeil to the dlniinntive tiirure ; there is a pniper size suited to our received 
 conoeptii>n of the child, and to deviate from it far in either direction destroys the 
 effect. The danger of pushing littlene:js to an extreme w;is caricatured by Sydney 
 Smith in reviewing Burke's tlinory.
 
 PARENTAL FEELING IN HOMER. 165 
 
 the child— innocence and simphcity. To these may be 
 added, Ukeuess (real or imagined) to one or other parent. 
 
 In every aje of the world, parental love has counted for 
 a very great pleasure, although a certain degree of civiliza- 
 tion is necessary to do justice to it. Like the sexual and 
 other tender feelings, it was late in gaining its full place in 
 poetry. 
 
 Homer has not entirely neglected the subject. In the 
 parting of Hector and Andromache, their tender interest in 
 their child is portrayed. The expression is brief, simple 
 and primitive, and yet strikes genuine chords in the parental 
 relationship. 
 
 " So spake glorious Hector, and stretched out his arm to 
 his boy. But the child shrunk crying to the bosom of his 
 fair- girdled nurse, dismayed at his dear father's aspect, and 
 in dread at the bronze and horse-hair crest that he beheld 
 nodding fiercely from the helmet's top. Then his dear 
 father laughed aloud, and his lady mother; forthwith 
 glorious Hector took the helmet from his head, and laid it, 
 all gleaming, upon the earth ; then kissed he his dear son 
 and dandled him in his arms, and spake in prayer to Zeus 
 and all the gods, ' O Zeus and all ye gods, vouchsafe ye 
 that this my son may likewise prove even as I, pre-eminent 
 amid the Trojans, and as valiant in might, and be a great 
 king of Ilios. Then may men say of him, ' Far greater is 
 he than his father,' as he returneth home from battle ; and 
 may he bring with him blood-stained spoils from the foeman 
 he hath slain, and may his mother's heart be glad." {Iliad, 
 Book VI., Leaf's transl.) 
 
 In Homer's w4de search for illustrative similitudes and 
 circumstances, the situation of parent and child is not 
 omitted. Athene turns aside an arrow aimed by Pandarus 
 at Menelaus — 
 
 As when a mother from her infant's cheek, 
 Wrapt in sweet slumbers, brushes off a fly. 
 
 The presumptuous Diomede, who wounded the goddes3 
 
 of love, receives a fatal warning — 
 
 for him no child 
 Upon his knees shall lisp a father's name. 
 
 Teucer, the younger brother of the huge Ajax, fights
 
 166 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 from behind bis brother's shield, and after peering forth to 
 discharge an arrow at a Trojan — 
 
 as a child creeps to his mother, crept 
 To Ajax. 
 
 Achilles, in his mourning for Patroclus, introduces the 
 parental feeling. 
 
 In the Mt'dea of Euripides, the mother's scene with her 
 children shows the poetic handling of parental fondness, in 
 a few prominent touches, chiefly the responsive looks and 
 smiles, with little or nothing of helplessness and dependence. 
 
 I will embrace my cliildren, O, my sons, 
 Give, give your mother your dear hands to kiss I 
 O, dearest hands, and mouths most dear to me, 
 And forms and noble faces of my sons ! 
 Be happy even there : what here was yours, 
 Your father robs you of. O, delicate scent ! 
 0, tender touch and sweet breath of my boys ! 
 
 The play with children was imitated in the doings of 
 Cupid, who was represented as a lovely boy, not too big to 
 dispense with motherly protection and fondness. This is 
 almost the only standing embodiment of parental feeling in 
 ancient poetry. 
 
 In Virgil, Dido makes love to J^neas by petting his boy 
 Ascanius. 
 
 The parental feeling in Eome comes out in some remai'k- 
 able tales, both historical and mythical; but it is the case of 
 the grown-up children, who assume a different aspect with 
 parents. The sacrifice of Virginia by her father was the 
 parental fondness coming into collision with family honour. 
 In describing that remarkable scene, our own poet draws a 
 lofty ideal picture of parental attachment and devotion. 
 
 Among the ancients, the frequent practice of exposing 
 female infants must have given a check to the fondness of 
 parents for their new-born offspring. 
 
 In the Middle Ages, infancy was raised to a much 
 higher rank in poetic treatment. The infant was assimi- 
 lated to the Angel, in purity, innocence, personal charm. 
 The class ' cherub ' was a combination of the angelic and 
 the child-like. 
 
 Still more powerful was the direction given by the wor- 
 ship of Jesus Christ, in His capacity of the infant son of the 
 Virgin Mary. The Mother and Child entered into Art as a 
 standing conception, and were provided with all the inte-
 
 PAKENTAL FEELING IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 167 
 
 resting adjuncts that the painter could embody on canvas, or 
 the saci'ed poet introduce into the hymnal of the church. 
 It was thought that worship could be heightened by in- 
 voking the tender sentiment of mankind generally towards 
 infancy. There was, no doubt, one serious drawback ; it 
 was difficult to couple with infancy the commanding attri- 
 butes of the Godhead, which necessarily repose on the full 
 maturity of the Divine Incarnation. 
 
 To follow out the Parental Feeling in Literature, we 
 must pass fi'om the stage of infantile attractions, to the 
 relation as appearing in after life. It is then divested of the 
 original charm and transformed into a relationship where 
 the children contribute to become the parent's stay. The 
 more famous poetic situations of the parental feeling sup- 
 pose children in their maturity. The bloom of youthful 
 beauty is a heightening circumstance, but not essential. So 
 also with the display of amiable virtues, or mental power 
 generally. 
 
 Shakespeare, like Homer, has fine passing allusions to 
 the state of infancy : as in Lady Macbeth's reference to her 
 motherly experience ; and in the fierce distress of Banquo at 
 the murder of his children. His chief plot turning upon the 
 parental emotions is in Lear ; and the management is deeply 
 tragic, the intensity of the emotion being shown exclusively 
 on that side. 
 
 The bereaved Constance, in King John, combines the 
 hyperboles of grief with touches of tender remembrance : — 
 
 Grief fills the room up of my absent child, 
 Lies ill 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 garments with his form. 
 
 Wordsworth, in the ' Address to my Infant Daughter 
 Dora,' the child being a month old, is too much carried 
 away with the lunar resemblance, and works up in but a 
 very slight degree the features of infancy. 
 
 Mild offspring of infirm humanity, 
 
 ]\Ieek Infant ! among all forloriiest things 
 
 The most forlorn. 
 
 This does not come home direct to the parental instinct. 
 The weakness of the infant is best given under the guise of 
 dependence and protection. 
 
 The digression on the Divine Eternity does not assist
 
 168 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 the special theme. Yet amends is to some extent made hy 
 the striking contrast that immediately succeeds : — 'Yet hail 
 to thee, Frail, feeble monthling ! by that name, methinks, 
 Thy scanty breathing-time is portioned out not idly '. The 
 Indian mother, to whose outdoor life the moon is still more 
 expressive of the infant's progress, scarcely assists us, except 
 by aiding in a transition to the higher maternal love of the 
 civilized life. The illustration of the child's hfe journey 
 by the lunar phases, although obviously suggested by the 
 fact that the child was then but one month old, tells only 
 with an intense nature w^orshipper like Wordsworth. The 
 concluding lines dwell on the smiles already seen on the 
 child's face ; they are styled — 
 
 Feelers of love, put forth as if to explore 
 This luitried world, and to prepare thy way 
 Through a strait passage intricate and dim. 
 
 The future destiny of the child is frequently included in the 
 poetic handling of infancy ; and is congenial to the serious- 
 ness of Wordsworth's view of life. The effect seems to be 
 chilled by his prevailing habit of general moralizing. The 
 child is less a personal interest to him than an occasion for 
 sentiments. Compare in this light Greene's ' Sephestia's 
 Song to her Child,' from the ' Menophon '. The song opens 
 thus — 
 
 Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee ; 
 When thou art old there's grief enough for thee. 
 
 There the stroke is made direct upon characteristic points 
 of soothing, by means of the endearing ' wanton,' and the 
 smiling on the mother's knee. 
 
 In the poem on ' Michael,' Wordsworth handles the 
 feeling at its later stage, and evokes some of the chief 
 circumstances of interest : — 
 
 but to Michael's heart 
 This son of his old age was yet more dear .... 
 Exceeding was the love he bare to hiru, 
 His heart and his heart's joy ! 
 
 did Michael love, 
 Albeit of a stem rmbcnding mind, 
 To have the young-one in Ids siglit, when he 
 Had work by his o\\ii door .... 
 He witli his father daily went, and they 
 Were as companions, why should I relate 
 That objects which the shepherd loved before
 
 PARENTAL FEELING IN WOBDSWORTH. — TENNYSON. 169 
 
 Were dearer now ? that from the boy there came 
 Feelings and emanations — things which were 
 Light to the smi and music to the wind ; 
 And that the Old Man's heart seemed born again ? 
 
 It is in the development of the story that the poet 
 brings us back to Luke's infancy, and depicts the parental 
 emotions in their primitive intensity. This is the narrative 
 given to Luke himself : — 
 
 Day by day passed on, 
 And still I loved thee with increasing love. 
 
 As the boy has nothing special to recommend him — 
 neither beauty, virtues, talents, nor reciprocal attachment, 
 in any special degree, and as he was destined to incur a 
 grievous moral shipwreck, the poet's delineation represents 
 parental fondness with no more than one special heightening 
 circumstance. Luke was the only child of the father's old 
 age. The labours and sacrifices of parents for children 
 usually make a prominent feature in the embodiment of the 
 emotion ; and full justice is done to it in Michael's story. 
 
 Tennyson seeks to express the earliest form of parental 
 feeling in his Cradle Song in the ' Princess '. It is the song 
 of a mother to her sleeping babe : — 
 
 Sweet and low, sweet and low. 
 
 Wind of the western sea, 
 Low, low, breathe and blow, 
 
 Wind of the western sea ! 
 Over the rolling waters go, 
 Come from the dying moon, and blow, 
 
 Blow him again to me : 
 While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. 
 
 This tnists almost entirely to its soft music and its 
 appropriate imagery. There is little of parental feeling 
 directly expressed. 
 
 It is otherwise with the next stanza : — 
 
 Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, 
 
 Father will come to thee soon ; 
 Best, rest, on mother's breast. 
 
 Father will come to thee soon ; 
 Father will come to his babe in the nest, 
 Silver sails all out of the west 
 
 Under the silver moon : 
 Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. 
 
 Here conjugal and parental feeling are combined through- 
 out, the babe appearing as an object of common affection
 
 170 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 and a bond of union. In the expression of parental feeling 
 there is, however, little but the reiterated utterance 
 of one or two thoughts ; but this must be recognized as 
 natural to the situation, and a correct representation of 
 motherly fondness. 
 
 Tennyson attempts to portray parental feeling in a 
 more advanced stage in 'The Grandmother'. It is the talk 
 of an old woman to her granddaughter, on hearing of the 
 death of her eldest son. She describes all his excellencies 
 as a child and as a man, and gives utterance to her parental 
 satisfaction in contemplating these. Thus : — 
 
 And Willy, my eldest-bom, is gone, you say, little Anne? 
 Ruddy and white, and strong on his legs, he looks like a man. 
 And Willy's wife has written : she never was overwise. 
 Never the wife for Willy : he wouldn't take my advice. 
 
 The spirit of the last two lines, expanded in the next 
 stanza, and appearing again, jars somewhat on the feeling 
 of parental afl'ection, but is to be defended as dramatically 
 correct. The third stanza gives the pure parental spirit : — 
 
 Willy, my beauty, my eldest-bom, the flower of the flock ; 
 Kever a man could fling him : for Willy stood like a rock. 
 " Here's a leg for a babe of a week ! " says doctor ; and he would 
 
 be bound, 
 There was not his like that year in twenty parishes round. 
 
 Strong of his hands, and strong on his legs, but still of his tongue ! 
 I ought to have gone before him : I wonder he went so yomig. 
 
 The points selected for admiration are appropriate to the 
 speaker; and the parental partiality and satisfaction well 
 depicted. 
 
 A long digression follows, in the manner of age ; and 
 then she returns to her children, whom, though all dead, she 
 almost feels to be about her still : — 
 
 But as to the children, Annie, they're all about me yet. 
 
 Pattering over the boards, my Annie who left me at two — 
 Patter she goes, my own little Annie, an Annie like you : 
 Pattering over the boards, she comes and goes at her will, 
 While Harry is in the five-acre, and Charlie ploughing the hill. 
 
 And Harry and Charlie, I hear them too— they sing to their 
 
 team : 
 Often thoy como to the door in a pleasant kind of a dr-eam. 
 They come and sit by my chair, they hover about my bed — 
 1 am not always certain if thoy bo alive or dead.
 
 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNINQ. 171 
 
 Parental love is thus embodied in the retrospect of early 
 life characteristic of age ; and it is expressed with all the 
 more purity that the commonplace and disagreeable ele- 
 ments inseparable from actual life have given place to an 
 ideal. 
 
 In one of his latest 'dramatic monologues,' 'Eizpah,' 
 Tennyson has given a tragic embodiment to the maternal 
 passion. A dying old woman, in the presence of a visiting 
 lady, maunders half unconsciously over the memory of a 
 wild son, who had been taunted by 'a lot of wild mates' 
 into ' robbing the mail ' and hanged for it. We see that the 
 strain had unhinged her wits, that she had been confined to 
 a lunatic asylum, and, after recovery, released. It is at this 
 point that the characteristic interest emerges. The poor 
 woman recalls how, night after night, in the dark and the 
 wind and the rain, she has gathered the bones of her boy 
 from the gibbet and buried them ' in holy ground ' : — 
 
 Flesh of my flesh was gone, but bone of my bone was left — 
 
 I stole them all from the lawyers— and you, will you call it theft? — 
 
 My baby, the bones that had sucked mo, the bones that had laughed 
 
 and had cried — 
 Theirs? O no ! they are mine— not theirs — they had moved in my 
 
 side. 
 
 The climax of parental self-sacrifice is reached when she 
 breaks out — 
 
 And if he be lost — but to save my soul, that is all you desire ; 
 Do you think that I care for my soul, if my boy should go to the 
 fire. 
 
 In order to obtain a full picture of parental feeling, we 
 require not only the parent's own utterance, but also the 
 description of the case as it appears to another. Elizabeth 
 Barrett Browning has furnished this in the picture of 
 Marian's child in Aurora Leigh : — 
 
 There he lay upon his back. 
 The yearling creature, warm and moist with life 
 To the bottom of his dimples,— to the ends 
 Of the lovely tumbled curls about his face ; 
 For since he had been covered over-much 
 To keep him from the light-glare, both his cheekg 
 Were hot and scarlet as the first live rose 
 The shepherd's heart-blood ebbed away into 
 The faster for his love. And love was here 
 As instant ; in the pretty baby-mouth,
 
 172 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Shut close, as if for dreaming that it sucked, 
 The little naked feet, drawn up the way 
 Of nestled birdlings ; everything so soft 
 And tender, — to the tmy holdfast hands, 
 Which, closing on a finger into sleep, 
 Had kept the mould of 't. 
 
 The child awakes, and then — 
 
 Gradually 
 He saw his mother's face, accepting it 
 In change for heaven itself with such a smile 
 As might have well been learnt there, — never moved, 
 But smiled on, in a drowse of ecstasy, 
 So happy (half with her and half with heaven) 
 He could not have the trouble to be stirred. 
 But smiled and lay there. Like a rose, I said ? 
 As red and still indeed as any rose. 
 That blows in all the silence of its leaves. 
 Content in blowing to fulfil its life. 
 
 This is a striking picture of infant lovehness, such as the 
 parent feels, though parental emotion does not directly 
 appear. Dimples, curls, glowing colour, softness, and 
 helpless dependence, — all deepened by the calmness of sleep ; 
 and then, on the awakening, we have the picture of quiet, 
 peaceful trust in his mother. The wdiole is heightened 
 by elevated comparisons and warm feeling. 
 
 Campbell gives us the description of a mother and sleep- 
 ing infant in the ' Pleasures of Hope ' : — 
 
 Lo ! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps. 
 
 Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps ; 
 
 She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies. 
 
 Smiles on her slmnbering child with pensive eyes, 
 
 And weaves a song of melancholy joy — 
 
 " Sleep, image of thy father, sleep, my boy ; 
 
 No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine ; 
 
 No sigh that rends thj^ father's heart and mine ; 
 
 Bright as his manly sire the son shall be 
 
 In form and soul ; but, ah ! more blest than he 1 
 
 Tliy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last. 
 
 Shall soothe his aching heart for all the past — 
 
 With many a smile my solitude repay, 
 
 And chase the world's ungenerous scorn away. " 
 
 She further pictures him weeping over her grave : — 
 
 " Oh, wilt tliou come at evening hour to shed 
 The tears of Memory o'er my narrow bed? " 
 
 It will be observed that Campbell, like Tennyson (both 
 following Homer), combines the expression of parental with
 
 PARENTAL FEELING IN CAMPBELL. — VICTOR HUGO. 173 
 
 conjugal love. He does not attempt any picture of the 
 child : ' infant beauty,' ' lovely babe unconscious,' ' slum- 
 bering child,' are quite general. He depends on the utter- 
 ance of the mother's feelings, which he confines, however, to 
 her expectations of her child's future (in harmony with the 
 purpose of his poem), while deepening the impression by a 
 suggestion of the mother's past unhappiness. 
 
 The lines that follow portray parental affection in its 
 more advanced forms : — 
 
 So speaks affection, ere the uifant eye 
 
 Can look regard, or brighten in reply ; 
 
 But when the cherub lip hath learnt to claim 
 
 A mother's ear by that endearing name ; 
 
 Soon as the playful innocent can prove 
 
 A tear of pity, or a smile of love, 
 
 Or cons his murmuring task beneath her care, 
 
 Or lisps with holy look his evening prayer, 
 
 Or gazing, mutely pensive, sits to hear 
 
 The mournful ballad warbled in his ear ; 
 
 How fondly looks admiring Hope the while, 
 
 At every artless tear, and every smile ! 
 
 How glows the joyous parent to descry 
 
 A guileless bosom, true to sympathy ! 
 
 The object here is to select such points in the child's 
 advancement as indicate responsiveness to the parent's 
 influence, and thus deepen affection — looks, speech, tears, 
 smiles ; and then, at a later stage, we have the services 
 rendered by the mother, which knit her more closely to 
 him — helping him in his tasks, listening to his ' evening 
 prayer,' and drawing out his sympathies by the ' mournful 
 ballad '. The partial hope of the parent's spirit shines 
 through all, and ' fondly looks admiring '. 
 
 The selection of points is suitable to the purpose in view, 
 and parental feeling is well represented so far as was required 
 for that purpose. The passage is more elevated than Mrs. 
 Browning's, but is without the same warm sympathetic 
 feeling of love to childhood. 
 
 Victor Hugo treats the parental relation in its various 
 aspects. The following is an example : — 
 
 That brow, that smile, that cheek so fair. 
 Beseem my child, who weeps and prays ; 
 A heavenly spirit guards her ways, 
 Prom whom she stole that mixture rare, 
 Through all her features shining mild ; 
 The poet sees an angel there. 
 The father sees a child.
 
 174 FEELING— EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 This is almost exclusively the working of distinguished 
 personal charms, which are not essential, although helpful, 
 lie dwells next on the eyes, as a lover would describe a 
 mistress : — 
 
 And by their flame, so pure and bright. 
 We see how lately those sweet eyes 
 Have wandered down from Paradise, 
 And still are lingering in its light. 
 
 To illustrate the miniature beauties of the infant person is 
 one of the standing devices for evoking the charm of infancy ; 
 yet it is neither the natural point of departure, nor the most 
 ell'ectual mode of appeal. 
 
 The maternal emotions are bodied forth thus : — 
 
 See all the children gathered there, 
 Their mother near ; so young, so fair. 
 An elder sister she might be. 
 
 This last point is taking an unfair advantage ; a mother is 
 not usually so full of charms. The next stanza is more to 
 the purpose : — 
 
 She wakes their smiles, she soothes their cares, 
 On that pure heart so like to theirs. 
 
 Her spirit with such life is rife, 
 That in its golden rays we see, 
 Touched into graceful poesy. 
 
 The dull, cold commonplace of life. 
 
 A fair, but not a remarkably full or brilliant handling of 
 those motherly assiduities that give evidence and expression 
 of her love emotions. 
 
 Hugo is more profuse in a picture he gives of paternal 
 love ; but he draws too exclusively on the special accident 
 of the child's being the only one of a widowed father. After 
 exliausting that situation, he has a few touches of properly 
 infantile interest : — 
 
 Innocence still loves 
 
 A brow unclouded and an azure eye ; 
 
 To me thou seem'st clothed in a holy halo, 
 
 My soul beholds thy soul through thy fair body ; 
 
 Even when my eyes are shut, I see thee still. 
 
 This contrives to bring together points of genuine interest 
 — the innocence, the beauty of feature, aggrandized by an 
 elevating image, and the rapt engrossment of the mind. 
 What follows is an example of overdone hyperbole : — 
 
 Thou art my day-light, and sometimes I wish 
 
 Tliat heaven had made me blind that thou might'st be 
 
 The sun that lighted up the world for me.
 
 Swinburne's study of a baby. 175 
 
 The similes are all in keeping, but so common that they 
 need to be used with more reserve. 
 
 The following is by Swinburne, and is entitled ' Etude 
 
 Eealiste ' : — 
 
 I. 
 
 A baby's feet, like sea-shells pink. 
 
 Might tempt, should heaven see meet, 
 An angel's lips to kiss, we think, 
 A baby's feet. 
 
 Like rose-hued sea-flowers toward the heat 
 
 They stretch and spread and wink 
 Their ten soft buds that part and meet. 
 
 No flower-bells that expand and shrink 
 
 Gleam half so heavenly sweet. 
 As shine on life's vmtrodden brink 
 A baby's feet. 
 
 II. 
 
 A baby's hands, like rose-buds furled 
 
 Where yet no leaf expands. 
 Ope if you touch, though close upcurled, 
 A baby's hands. 
 
 Then, fast as warriors grip their brands 
 
 When battle's bolt is hurled, 
 They close, clenched hard like tightening bands. 
 
 No rose-buds yet by dawn impearled 
 
 Match, even in loveliest lands, 
 The sweetest flowers in all the world — 
 A baby's hands. 
 
 HI. 
 
 A baby's eyes, ere speech begin, 
 Ere lips learn words or sighs, 
 Bless all things bright enough to win 
 A baby's eyes. 
 
 Love, while the sweet thing laughs and lies, 
 
 And sleep flows out and in. 
 Sees perfect in them Paradise ! 
 
 Their glance might cast out pain and sin, 
 
 Their speech make dumb the wise, 
 By mute glad godhead felt within 
 A baby's eyes. 
 
 2. The reciprocal affection of children to parents, 
 as it is without an instinctive basis, must be traced
 
 176 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 solel}'' to the situation; being a growth resembhng 
 ordinary friendship. 
 
 It is a common mistake to treat the upward regards of 
 child to parent as having a foundation in nature hke the 
 downward regards of parent to child. The basis of the 
 reciprocal feeling must be sought in benefits received, in 
 habitual companionship, and in community of interest. 
 
 There is a beautiful ideal in this case too. The natural 
 prompting of parents leads them to lavish good things on 
 their children ; and there is an equally natural prompting 
 to respond with gratitude, and to contract likings for the 
 givers of benefits. The effect equally arises towards bene- 
 factors generally ; but there is no other class of benefactors 
 or friends that can be put in comparison with our parents. 
 In the case of a persistent good understanding and har- 
 monious relation between parents and children, the re- 
 ciprocal feeling attains a high pitch of intensity, and is 
 second only to the sexual and parental emotions themselves. 
 Yet the ideal should not be assumed as a matter of course. 
 Thei'B are the unavoidable drawbacks of authority and 
 restraint, and the frequent absence of the disposition or 
 the ability of parents to contribute to the childi-en's happi- 
 ness."'' 
 
 The same strain of remark applies to the relationship of 
 brothers and sisters : a pure case of habitual ititimacy and 
 exchange of good offices, although often marred by rivalries 
 and conflicting interests, as well as unsuitability of temper. ■ 
 It is allowable to hold up an ideal here, also, and to point 
 to cases where it is realized. But when Tennyson en- 
 deavours to set forth the intensity of his friendship thus — 
 
 Dear as the mother to the son, 
 More than my brothers are to me — 
 
 he inverts the order of strength. 
 
 Cowper's poem on his mother's picture illustrates some 
 of the forms and expressions of filial affection. The feeling 
 is intensified by the sense of his own loss in his mother's 
 early dealli, wliile it is also ideahzed by distance. 
 
 * The sayinR of Victor Hujro— ' Happy the son of whom we can say he has con- 
 Boleil his inutliur —is callcil hy Mattliew Arnold, ' fustian ' ; there being nothing in 
 tlie language to redeem it from maudlin cdmmonplai-e.
 
 cowPEB ON HIS mother's pictuke, 177 
 
 Oh that those lips had language ! Life has passed 
 With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
 Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, 
 The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; 
 Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, 
 " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away ! " 
 
 The early kindness of the mother is made to express his 
 own affection ; and the pictm^e appropriately suggests these 
 expressions of maternal tenderness. 
 
 The poem passes on to trace in vivid and touching 
 lines the grief of the child over the death of his mother ; — 
 
 I heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day, 
 I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away. 
 And, turning from my nursery window, drew 
 A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! 
 But was it such ? — It was. — Where thou art gone 
 Adieus and farewells are a sound unkno-svn. 
 May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, 
 The parting words shall pass my lips no more ! 
 Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, 
 Oft gAve me promise of thy quick return. 
 What ardently I wished, I long believed. 
 And, disappointed still, was still deceived. 
 
 The hearing of the bell, the sight of the hearse, the last 
 view from the nursery window, are natural and touching 
 expressions of the child's sorrow and love ; and while the 
 pain is lessened by the reference to the hope of meeting, 
 the love is still further expressed by it. The deceptive ex- 
 pectation of the mother's return is an additional token of 
 continued affection. 
 
 After a digression, the poet returns to dwell on the kind 
 offices of his mother : — 
 
 Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, 
 
 That thou might'st know me safe and warmly laid ; 
 
 Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, 
 
 The biscuit or confectionary plum ; 
 
 The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestow'd 
 
 By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glow'd : 
 
 All this, and more endearing still than all, 
 
 Thy constant flow of love that knew no fall. 
 
 Ne'er roughen'd by those cataracts and breaks, 
 
 That humour interposed too often makes ; 
 
 All this still legible in memory's page. 
 
 And still to be so to my latest age. 
 
 The power of these touches depends on their simplicity and 
 their appropriateness to the expression of maternal kind-
 
 173 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION, 
 
 ness ; while they are prevented from appearing common- 
 place by the halo of sorrow and filial affection. 
 
 The whole passage, notwithstanding its intensity, leaves 
 the impression of genuine feeling, and is thus saved from 
 turning to sentimental maudlin. 
 
 In his ' Eugby Chapel,' Matthew Arnold has composed 
 an elegy on his dead father. The bond of filial affection 
 is brought out by memory of the things lost : — 
 
 There thou dost lie, in the gloom 
 Of the aiitunin evening. But ah ! 
 That word, gloom ^ to my mind 
 Brings thee back in the light 
 Of thy radiant ardour again ; 
 In the gloom of November we pass'd 
 Days not dark at thy side ; 
 Seasons impaired not the ray 
 Of thine even cheerfulness clear. 
 
 This is all general, but dwells on an inspiring reality. 
 
 The dependence of children comes out more directly in 
 the following : — 
 
 For fifteen years. 
 We who till then in thy shade 
 Rested as imder the boughs 
 Of a mighty oak, have endur'd 
 Sunshine and rain as we might, 
 Bare, unshaded, alone, 
 Lacking the shelter of thee. 
 
 An appropriate heightening of the appropriate circumstance 
 of fatherly protection. The poein then goes off" in the con- 
 solatory strain, to the effect that his father may ' some- 
 where, surely, afar,' be carrying on his powers of beneficent 
 work. Henceforward, the paternal relation is resolved into 
 that of an elder comrade in the stormful mountain-journey 
 of life and thought : — 
 
 Wc were weary, and we 
 Fearful, and we in our march 
 Fain to drop down and to die. 
 Still tliou turnedst, and still 
 Beckoned'st the trembler, and still 
 Gavest the weary thy hand. 
 
 The appeal, here, is to a real situation, but loses by the few- 
 ness of those tliat can respond to it, though the familiar 
 figure of a difficult journey makes it easier to comprehend.
 
 GROUNDWOBK OP ATTACHMENT BETWEEN FRIENDS. 179 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Attachments, occasionally of great power, spring up 
 between persons of the same sex unrelated by blood. 
 These have given birth to celebrated poetic situations. 
 
 Intense friendships between those of the same sex have 
 been known in all ages. They occur in celebrated examples, 
 both historical and fictitious. In Greece, the sentiment of 
 men for men was often more powerful than the strongest 
 attachments between the sexes. 
 
 In the Iliad we have the attachment of Achilles and 
 Patroclus ; in the Old Testament, the friendship of David 
 and Jonathan. In both cases the poetic handling is founded 
 on the pathetic termination. 
 
 The groundwork of the attachment may be found in one 
 or other of the following circumstances :^ 
 
 (1) Personal fascination, — sometimes explicable by per- 
 sonal beauty or charm on one side ; at other times having 
 no assignable cause. 
 
 (2) Companionship, with the rendering of mutual sym- 
 pathy and good ofQces. 
 
 This position is at its highest when one is able to supply 
 what the other most needs and desires. The kind of differ- 
 ence that excludes rivalry, and renders possible the utmost 
 support from each to the other, is eminently favourable. 
 
 The liking of men for men, and of women for women, is 
 aided by the more intimate knowledge of each other's pecu- 
 liarities and situations. Such friendships are a part of our 
 life no less than the family affections; and the highest 
 ideals enter into poetry. 
 
 Although not a frequent occurrence, the emotions, when 
 roused by a rich aggregate of favouring circumstances, will 
 rise to a degree of intensity equal to the sexual feeling at its 
 utmost pitch, when the characteristics are scarcely distin- 
 guishable from the state of love. Although, in such a case, 
 the poet seems justified in raising the one to the level of the 
 other, he has to encounter the reader's reluctance to accept 
 so elevated a standai'd. Most minds can respond to the 
 feeling of sexual love when powerfully rendered ; but not to 
 the same lofty representation of friendship. 
 
 The friendship of Achilles and Patroclus in the H'uid is 
 depicted solely by the furious grief of Achilles when Patro-
 
 180 FEELING — EXEMrLIFICATlON. 
 
 clus is slain. We hear nothing of the personal charms or 
 amiable character of Patroclus ; we are not told of the 
 supreme delight of Achilles in his companionship ; but, after 
 the fatal issue of the fight with Hector, the grief of Achilles 
 is frantic : he tears his hair, heaps dust on his head, curses 
 the hour of his birth. He is compared to a lion raging in 
 the desert with anguish and fury at the loss of his young. 
 lie is prompted to inmiediate and dreadful revenge ; he is 
 reconciled to Agamemnon, and thus the death of Patroclus 
 becomes a turning-point in the siege. The celebration of 
 the friendship has a purely warlike interest, and does not 
 come home to the tender feelings of the reader. 
 
 There is a touch of real friendship in the tribute of 
 Helen to the slain Hector. It is an outpouring of simple 
 gratitude for his forbearance, when others were heaping 
 reproaches upon her for her guilt and the calamities she had 
 brought upon Ti'oy. 
 
 The Greek friendship between an elder and a younger 
 person is celebrated in many compositions. Theocritus 
 illustrates the sentiment in the tale of Hercules and HyJas. 
 The emotions of love felt by Hercules towards the young 
 man are expressed after the mature art of erotic Greek 
 poetry : — 
 
 " Even the brazen-hearted son of Amphytrion. who 
 withstood the fierceness of the lion, loved a youth, the 
 charming Hylas, and taught him like a father everything by 
 which he might become a good and famous man ; nor w^ould 
 he leave the youth at dawn, or noon, or evening, but sought 
 continually to fashion him after his own heart, and to make 
 him a right yokefellow with him in mighty deeds ". 
 
 Here we have the circumstances of entx'anced companion- 
 ship and devoted attention, the highest symptoms of love in 
 all ages. 
 
 Not the least remarkable delineation of this ecstatic 
 sentiment of male friendship is afforded in the two Dialogues 
 of Plato, n amed ' Phaedrus ' and ' Symposium '. So special 
 and marked is the handling of the passion by the great 
 philosopher, that it has ever since borne his name. 
 
 The inspiring cause of the passion with Plato is solely 
 the beauty of the youthful form, which is exhibited in the 
 naked exercises of the palaestra. Nothingissaidof mental at- 
 tractiveness, although when the affection is once contracted, 
 its mutual character may be supposed: the youth responding
 
 FKIENDSHIP — SHAKESPEARE. — MILTON. — BUBNS. 181 
 
 to the extraordinary devotion that he has awakened. Plato 
 ideahzes the situation by supposing that the two lovers 
 engage in philosophical studies together, the elder devoting 
 himself to the improvement of the younger, as Hercules 
 did with Hylas. But in actual history, these friendships, 
 when they occurred, were characterized by mutual heroic 
 devotion to the death ; whence they became a power in war, 
 and a terror to despots. Disparity of years, and the 
 personal beauty of the younger, entered into Plato's friend- 
 ship, but were not universal accompaniments of the passion. 
 
 The age of Elizabeth witnessed the poetic celebration of 
 friendship on a very great scale. (See Professor Minto's 
 English Poets, p. 215.) Shakespeare is a conspicuous example. 
 The susceptibility to male friendship seemed one of his 
 special characteristics. He has, in consequence, given it 
 poetical embodiment, occasionally in his plays, and markedly 
 in his sonnets. The type is almost purely Platonic. The 
 attraction of the beautiful youth of the sonnets is personal 
 charm, which is described with all the fulness, and almost 
 with the very epithets, of beauty in women. The sonnets 
 contribute to erotic embodiment rather than to such an 
 ideal of friendship as we should prefer to see expressed, 
 having a character and nobility of its own, instead of being 
 an objectionable imitation of sexual love. 
 
 The Lycidas of Milton is a tribute to friendship inspired 
 by the calamity of loss. The language of mourning is given 
 in Milton's manner, and the circumstances attending the 
 disaster are rendered in the terms of ancient mythology. 
 The lines where he celebrates the companionship of the two 
 at Cambridge are an adaptation of the pastoral, by which 
 they are treated as fellow- shepherds : — 
 
 For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, 
 Fed the same flock, by fountam, shade and rill. 
 
 The whole passage is too fanciful to impress us with an 
 ideal picture of friendship. The poem might have been 
 devoted to the memory of any college companion suddenly 
 cut off by a disaster ; and it is not on the representation of 
 friendship that its greatness depends. 
 
 The emotional temperament of Burns bursts forth in his 
 friendships; and these are occasionally the subject of his 
 poetic pen. His Epistles to friends overflow iu geniality and 
 kindness : —
 
 182 FEELING — EXEiirLIFICATION. 
 
 Content vnth you to make a pair 
 Whare'er I gang. 
 In occasional touches, he reverts to the theme, as in 
 'TamO'Shanter':— 
 
 And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, 
 His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; 
 Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither — 
 They had been fou for weeks thegither. 
 Co^^■por is, by pre-eminence, the poet of friendship. He 
 is wanting in purely erotic effusions. His own private life 
 was made up of intense friendships, which he celebrated in 
 every form, and with all the arts suited to their illustration. 
 His gratitude for the long-continued kindness of Mrs. Unwin 
 is poured forth in the poem ' To Mary '. Since he feels that 
 she is nearing her end, he mingles pathos with the strain. 
 
 The twentieth year is well-nigh past 
 Since first our sky was overcast ; — 
 Ah would that tMs might be the last ! 
 
 My Mary ! 
 The daily offices of kindness and attention make the 
 first essential in the picture of friendship. Nevertheless, 
 as the consequence of the duration of the good offices, a 
 disinterested feeling has grown up ; the tennination corre- 
 sponding to the beginning of love in the sexes, and yielding 
 the strongest fascination of personal companionship. Such 
 friendship between opposite sexes is barely distinguishable 
 from the haj^piest examples of the conjugal relation. 
 
 Thy silver locks, once auburn bright. 
 Are still more lovely in my sight 
 Than golden beams of orient light. 
 
 My Jlary 1 
 
 For could I \aew nor them nor thee, 
 What sight worth seeing could I see ? 
 The sun would rise in vain for me, 
 
 My Mary ! 
 
 The tokens of affection on her part are dehcately intro- 
 duced so as to heighten the picture. 
 
 Partakers of thy sad decline, 
 
 Thy hands their little force resign ; 
 
 Yet gently press'd, press gently mine, 
 
 My Mary I 
 
 And still to love, though press'd with ill, 
 In wintry age to feel no chill, 
 ^Yith me is to bo lovely still, 
 
 My Mai7 !
 
 AFFECTIONATE RELATION OF MASTEE AND SERVANT. 183 
 
 There is nothing wanting in the expression of tender 
 friendship, except surroundings. Had the composition been 
 a more purely artistic effort, these would have been sup- 
 plied. In the Task, the circumstantials of the poet's daily 
 life are wrought up to the highest point of interest as a 
 domestic interior whose groundwork is the relationship of 
 friends. 
 
 A touching picture of friendship is given in the closing 
 stanzas of Gray's ' Elegy '. The single line — 
 
 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere — 
 
 speaks a volume of friendly attractiveness. 
 
 We may append to this head the occasionally affec- 
 tionate relation of Master and Servant, Patron and De- 
 pendent, Su]3erior and Inferior, Teacher and Pupil. The 
 relationship, in these instances, becomes tender, on the 
 same grounds as friendship, by the mutual interchange of 
 good offices and services, beyond what is strictly bargained 
 for. The picture of Eumaeus in the Odijssey is the cele- 
 bration of fidelity on the part of the servant to his master. 
 It recalls the faithful steward of Abraham, and the captive 
 maiden in the service of Naaman the Syrian, by whose 
 advice he was cured of his leprosy. 
 
 The domestic (slave or servant) necessarily appears in 
 epic and dramatic poetry, and performs many parts. The 
 ideal of fidelity is an occasional type, but is rarely worked 
 up with high poetic art ; nor would it exhibit any novelty 
 in the devices employed. Numerous varieties of the servant 
 class are given in Shakespeare. The attached domestic 
 in the old Scottish families is depicted by Scott. 
 
 All the business relations of life are softened by the 
 operation of the same disposition to mutual services, irre- 
 spective of the bare fulfilment of contracted obligations. 
 The poet occasionally aids the moralist in setting forth the 
 value of this element of human happiness. 
 
 GEEGAEIOUSNESS.— PATEIOTISM. 
 
 Under Strength, reference was made to the power of 
 collective masses, which represent the highest form of 
 human might. Another view needs to be taken of the same 
 fact. Apart altogether from the exercise of power, there is
 
 184 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 a charm or fascination in the presence of Numbers, which 
 penetrates our whole life. Besides forming attachments to 
 individuals, under the strong instincts of sex and parentage, 
 and by virtue of reciprocated services, we take delight in 
 encountering even indifferent persons, when they are aggre- 
 gated in numbers, small or large. In the family gathering, 
 there are individual attachments, and also the influence of 
 coUectiveuess. As the sphere of society is enlarged, the 
 thrill of numbers is increased, notwithstanding the diminu- 
 tion of individual regards. The periodical gatherings of 
 villages, townsliips, — are regular institutions, connected with 
 religion, public business or amusements : and the ostensible 
 purpose is often the smallest part of the attraction. 
 
 Even the physical gratifications of life are notoriously 
 heightened by sociable participation. The hilarity of a feast 
 is only partly due to the pleasure of the table. The out- 
 bursts of joyousness usually reach their highest strain in 
 the company of a multitude. The vast assemblies brought 
 together by military array, by games, festivals or popular 
 demonstrations, have a thrilling effect on every individual. 
 
 The case of sociable emotion is not overlooked in art 
 representations. The painter includes among his subjects 
 the gatherings of numbers in armies, and popular congrega- 
 tions in every form. Poetry also embraces the topic, al- 
 though it is very apt to be merged in the fighting interest of 
 hostile masses. Milton repeatedly pictures the vastness of 
 his hosts, both angelic and Satanic, without reference to 
 their being actually engaged in combat. There is a mode of 
 description suited to awaken the thrill of numbers, without 
 the more exciting inspiration of war-like strength. To see 
 this in its purity, we have to i-efer to the delineation of 
 peaceable gatherings for a common object, as festivals and 
 games. In quoting the legends of Delos, as embodied in 
 the Homeric Hynm to Apollo, Grote pictures the games 
 periodically held at Delos in honour of the god. The ex- 
 pressions chosen are carefully suited to make us ideally 
 present at a splendid gathering, and to recall something of the 
 thrill of numbers, as we may have actually experienced it : 
 — 'The promise made by Leto to Delos was faithfully per- 
 formed : amidst the numberless other temples and groves 
 which men provided for him, he ever preferred that island 
 as his permanent i-esidence, and there the lonians with their 
 wives and children, and all their " hravery," congregated perio-
 
 THBILL OF NUMBERS. 185 
 
 dicaJhj from their different cities to glorify him. Dance and 
 song and athletic contests adorned the solemnity, and the 
 countless ships, wealth, and rjrace of the mnltifuditious lonians 
 had the air of an assemhltj of gods. The Delian maidens, 
 servants of Apollo, sang hymns to the glory of the god, as 
 well as of Artemis and Leto, intermingled with adventm-es 
 of foregone men and women, to the delight of the listening 
 crowd.' The language is at every point suggestive not only 
 of multitude, but of selectness and distinction, by which the 
 influence of numbers is greatly heightened. 
 
 The art of representing social gatherings has reached a 
 high development in our time. The newspaper report of a 
 great public ceremonial or amusement studies every con- 
 trivance of language that can give impressiveness to the 
 delineation. The chief Ehetorical maxim in connexion with 
 the art is to consider scenic description in the first instance, 
 while qualifying that by the exhibition of numerical array. 
 To this is added the minute picturing of a few select 
 portions and incidents, which assist in vivifying the whole, 
 and put the reader nearly in the position of the spectator. 
 The extent and form of the aggregate mass can be given in 
 the first instance by literal phraseology, and be afterwards 
 augmented by all the circumstances that suggest a multi- 
 tudinous host and the variety of its active manifestations. 
 
 The picturing of Numbers with a view to awakening the 
 gregarious thrill is a suiting introduction to the literary em- 
 bodiment of the Patriotic form of tender interest. The 
 sentiment towards our country and fellow-countrymen con- 
 tains a portion of this interest along with purely egotistic 
 feeling. 
 
 A small amount of Tender interest mingles with 
 more pm-ely egotistic feelings in the sentiment towards 
 country and fellow-countrymen. 
 
 Common interests, companionship, sympathy and mutual 
 good offices engender a kind and friendly regard towards 
 neighbours, co-members of societies small and great, and 
 fellow-subjects of the same political body ; allowance being 
 made for rivalry and partisanship, which operate to cause 
 alienation and hatred. 
 
 It is the business of the poet to look, by preference, on
 
 186 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION, 
 
 the amicable side of human beings united in society, and to 
 shape ideals accordingly. 
 
 The poetrj'^ of patriotic sentiment has most frequently 
 taken the form of rousing to arms in case of attack from 
 without. This is a species of oratory, using the form of 
 verse for readier access to men's feelings. 
 
 Poetry is also employed by every nation to extol itself and 
 decry other nations. Such compositions can scarcely be said 
 to illustrate the art of embodying oiu' tender sentiments. 
 
 There are some examples of a purer treatment of patriotic 
 regards, where love is more consj)icuous than either self- 
 esteem or hatred. 
 
 The principles of effect are the same as reign in all the 
 species of tender feeling. They are delineations of the objects 
 in such a way as to inspire the patriotic interest, and the 
 further delineation of the feelmgs themselves as entertained 
 by individuals or by masses. 
 
 Scott's splendid outburst — 
 
 Breathes there a man with soul so dead — 
 
 has almost the first place in this kind of poetry. The 
 circumstances are chosen with felicity, and seem to sustain 
 and justify all the patriotic warmth that he exacts from 
 Scotchmen. He touches the two most powerful chords — 
 scenic grandeurs and ancestral associations. He might 
 have added a selection from the nation's historic names and 
 mighty achievements, but was satisfied to dispense with these. 
 
 O Caledonia ! stem and wild, 
 Meet nurse for a poetic child ! 
 Land of bro\^^l heath and shaggy wood, 
 Land of the mountain and the flood. 
 Land of my sires ! what mortal hand 
 Can e'er untie the filial band 
 Til at knits me to thy rugged strand ! 
 Still as I view each well-known scene, 
 Think what is now, and what hath been, 
 Seems as, to me, of all bereft. 
 Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; 
 And thus I love them better still, 
 Even in extremity of ill. 
 By Yarrow's streams still let me stray, 
 Tliough none should guide my feeble way ; 
 Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break, 
 Altliougli it chill my withered cheek ; 
 Still lay my liead by Toviot stone. 
 Though there, forgotten and alone, 
 The bard may draw his parting groan.
 
 POETRY OF PATRIOTISM. 187 
 
 Scott's handling is in favourable contrast to Burke's 
 attempt to make the British constitution an object of tender 
 regards.* The best government hardly admits of being 
 viewed in this light ; and the historic governments of Scot- 
 land were far from the best. 
 
 Notwithstanding the beauty of the expression, Cole- 
 ridge's lines can barely escape the charge of maudlin ; which 
 is the necessary consequence of attempting a strain of feel- 
 ing too high for our sympathies. 
 
 Divine 
 And beauteous island, thou hast been my sole 
 And most magnificent temple, in the which 
 I walk with awe and sing my stately songs, ' 
 Lo\dng the God that made me ! 
 
 Cowper, in the Task, Book II., adopts a far juster 
 strain of patriotic commendation. The following lines give 
 the tone of the whole passage : — 
 
 England, with all thy faults I love thee still, 
 My country ! and, while yet a nook is left 
 Where English minds and manners may be found, 
 Shall be constrain'd to love thee. 
 
 He loves his country better than all others, though some 
 may be fairer or more fruitful ; and the very sincerity of 
 his love makes him regret and reprove the vices and follies 
 that appear among many of his countrymen. This utter- 
 ance of combined love and faithfulness lends new force to 
 the poetry. 
 
 Macaulay has realized a vivid picture of Eoman patriot- 
 ism in his Laijs. In the rousing address of Icilius, historic 
 allusions are graphically accumulated, and the objects of 
 domestic feeling finely grouped thus : — 
 
 Then leave the poor Plebeian his single tie to life — 
 
 The sweet, sweet love of daughter, of sister and of wife. 
 
 The gentle speech, the balm for all that his vexed soul endures, 
 
 The kiss, in which he half forgets even such a yoke as yours. 
 
 Still let the maiden's beauty swell the father's breast with pride, 
 
 Burns's patriotic effusions assume both v^'arlike and 
 tender shapes. Like Cowper, he tempers his exultant 
 emotions with virtuous wishes : — 
 
 * " In this choice of inheritance we have given to onr frame of polity the imafre 
 of a relation in hlood ; l)in<liii,s; up the constitution of our country with our diaicst 
 doiiiestie ties ; aiiopting our funilainental laws into the l)osotu of owv ffituHy affections ; 
 keeping inseparal)le, and cherishing with the warmth of all their condiintd and 
 mutually refiecled charities, our stale, oar hearths, our sepulchres, and our altars,"
 
 183 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 O Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! 
 
 For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent ; 
 Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 
 
 Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content ! 
 And oh ! may heaven their simple lives prevent 
 
 From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! 
 Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 
 
 A virtuous populace may rise the while, 
 And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved isle. 
 
 Somewhat similar is the impression produced by Tenny- 
 son's — 
 
 Love thou thy land, with love far-brought. 
 
 There is the same balancing of aims and feelings, but not 
 much tenderness ; advice being the chief design of the 
 poem. 
 
 The poetry of personal devotion to monarchs, dynasties 
 and great leaders, takes on more of the character of indivi- 
 dual attachments. The flame is kept up by ideal pictures 
 of excellence, by the stimulus of the cause represented, and 
 by the collective sympathy of multitudes. 
 
 As a typical example of this class of literature, we may 
 cite the Jacobite Songs of Scotland. In the majority of 
 these, there mingles also the pathos of a lost cause. 
 
 COMPASSION. -BENEVOLENCE,— CHIVALEY. 
 
 This is a true case of Tender Regard, although 
 enlarged in its workings, so as to include strangers as 
 well as those in our own circle. The occasion of the 
 fesling is some form of weakness, inferiority, need, dis- 
 tress or calamity. 
 
 The most important aspect of the Tender feeling in such 
 cases is its prompting to active measures of x'elief or assist- 
 ance. There is a luxury of Pity that goes no further, and 
 is made a matter of reproach under the name of Sentimen- 
 tality. The poet cultivates both aspects. 
 
 \Ve must distinguish this case from the utterance of 
 Borrow, without reference to help or relief, which makes a 
 case apart (Pathos). 
 
 The awakening of simple Pity supposes a picture of 
 need. The additional requisites are, (1) that the common 
 sympathies of mankind should be appealed to, and (2) that 
 tlie object of pity should be made to appear interesting, 
 either from merit or from some attractive quality.
 
 Milton's sonnet on the piedmontese. 189 
 
 Compassion for distress is not unfrequently combined with 
 admiration of philanthropic self-sacrifice. This is exempli- 
 fied in Cowper's eulogiums on Whitfield (Leuconomus) and 
 Howard. The admiration predominates over the com- 
 passionate interest in the subjects laboured for. 
 
 Milton's Sonnet 'On the late Massacre in Piedmont' 
 takes the form of prayer for the punishment of the oppres- 
 sors ; but compassion is excited by touching references to 
 the sufferings inflicted : — 
 
 Avenge, Lord, Thy slaughtered samts, whose bones 
 Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold. 
 
 The vivid picture here presented at once awakens our pity. 
 The language is exquisitely fitted to its purpose ; as in the 
 fine harmony of ' the Alpine mountains cold '. The Pro- 
 testant sympathies of Milton's readers w^ould be further 
 moved by what is suggested in ^Thj tsainta'. The picture is 
 thus expanded : — 
 
 Even them vyho kept Thy truth so pure of old, 
 When all our fathers worship'd stocks and stones, 
 
 Forget not ; in thy book record their groans 
 
 Who were Thj' sheep, and in their ancient fold 
 Slain by the bloody Piemontese, that rolled 
 Mother with infant down the rocks ; their moans 
 
 The vales redoubled to the hills, and they 
 To heaven. 
 
 Our interest is thus awakened by the thought of their pure 
 faith, maintained against Eome so long ; while compassion 
 is deepened by the picture of their cruel sufferings, rendered 
 vivid by the individualizing touch of rolling mother and 
 infant down the rocks ; their moans are not only echoed 
 among the hills, but made to ascend to heaven. 
 
 The chivalry of the middle ages is avowedly based on 
 delivering the oppressed ; although the interest is largely 
 made up of erotic feeling and the punishment of oppressors. 
 Spenser, in the Faerie Queene, exemplifies all the three. 
 He provides everywhere highly-wrought combinations of 
 interesting distress, which his champions have to rescue 
 and relieve. 
 
 The feeling of compassion for the less privileged members 
 of the human family is appealed to in Pope's picture of the 
 North American Indian's religious ideas : — 
 
 *e>^ 
 
 Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutor'd mind 
 Sees God hi clouds, or hears Him in the wind ;
 
 190 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 His soul, proud science never taught to stray 
 Far as the solar walk, or milky way ; 
 Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n, 
 Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heaven ; 
 Some safer world in deptli of woods embrac'd, 
 Some happier island m the wat'ry waste, 
 Wliere slaves once more their native land behold, 
 No fiends torment, no Christians thu-st for gold. 
 To Be, contents his natural desire. 
 He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire ; 
 But tliinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
 His faithful dog shall bear him company. 
 
 All the circumstances are effective for their purpose : the 
 simple ideas of the savage, the narrowness of his view, the 
 simplicity of his desires, his wish for the company of his 
 dog — a combination of humility and affection that greatly 
 enhances our pity. The effect is further assisted by the 
 penury and privation of his present life, reflected in the 
 heaven that he sketches for himself ; there being also a 
 satirical innuendo mingled with the humble aspiration. 
 
 The passage as nearly realizes the tender emotion in its 
 purity as Pope's manner will allow. The language is con- 
 stantly running to embodiments of streiagth, when he wishes 
 to be pathetic. He cannot sufliciently confine himself to 
 the vocabulary and the combinations suitable to feeling. 
 
 No poet supplies ampler feasts of pure pity than Chaucer. 
 He often succeeds in painting distress in a w^ay to arouse 
 the emotion to its grateful point, and no further. 
 
 The Lower Animals are proper subjects of compassionate 
 interest, in poetry, as well as in actual life. Burns's address 
 * To a Mouse ' is in every way illustrative. The interest of 
 the llWe is wrought up by help of the copious diminutives 
 of the Scottish dialect. The poem opens on this keynote : — 
 
 Wee, sleekit, cowrin', tim'rous beastie. 
 
 It frequently recurs to the thought. Another effective 
 appeal is made to our pity, — the wrecking of a fellow- 
 creature's constructive toils :— 
 
 Thy wee bit housie, too, in niin ! 
 Its silly wa's the win's are strowin' ! 
 
 Or again — 
 
 That wee bit heap o' loaves and stibblo 
 Has cost thee mony a weary nibble.
 
 COMPASSIONATE INTEKEST IN ANIMALS. 191 
 
 The spirit of compassionate kindliness towards animals, 
 without the pathetic elements present here, may be seen in 
 the same poet's ' New Year Morning Salutation to His Auld 
 Mare Maggie'. 
 
 There is a fine tenderness in the faithful hound's recog- 
 nition of Ulysses in the Odyssey, which is intensified by 
 the contrast to the faithlessness of some of his human 
 dependents. The exaltation of the virtues of animals at 
 the expense of humanity is a frequently recurring device. 
 
 EELIGION. 
 1. The Tender Emotion is awakened in Keligion 
 under the following conditions : — 
 
 (1) It is a purely upward feeling, resembling that of 
 child to parent. 
 
 (2) Its objects are invisible to the eye of sense. 
 The inferiority of the upward feeling of child to parent, 
 
 as compared with the downward feeling of parent to child, 
 is to be taken into account in evoking Eeligious tenderness. 
 As filial affection grows out of benefits and affection received, 
 and the absence of harshness in the exercise of authority, 
 so affection to the Deity must be founded on a recognition 
 of Divine goodness and protection. 
 
 The circumstance of the unseen nature of Deity gives an 
 entirely distinct character to the mode of emotional repre- 
 sentation. Idolatrous nations have used sensible images ; 
 the spiritual religions employ the arts of language solely. 
 God is the ineffable source of the universe, and His nature is 
 reflected from it. 
 
 Man's religious emotion is partly fed by regarding the 
 Deity as an object of the highest Strength, Power or 
 Subhmity. This view is usually alternated with the aspect 
 of Parental Benignity. The two are not incompatible, pro- 
 vided the severe adjuncts of power are kept in the back- 
 ground. 
 
 The mere idea of a Governor of the World, requiring 
 obedience and distributing punishment and reward, would 
 dispense with all emotions except those growing out of self- 
 regard. This is not the view that evokes our tender feelings 
 as such. It is the prevalent type of religion apart from 
 Christianity, but its emotion is not love but fear : and hence 
 the religious worship of most peoples is of the nature of
 
 192 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 propitiation. In order to evoke and cultivate the tender 
 feeling, on its agreeable side, this view must be kept from 
 assuming prominence. 
 
 2. The methods grounded in the foregoing considera- 
 tions, coupled wdth the general characteristics of Tender 
 Feeling, are these : — 
 
 I. To set forth the Deity as an object to inspire 
 love or affection. 
 
 II. To express our ovi^n feelings, and the feelings of 
 v^^orshippers generally, so as to compel a sympathetic 
 concurrence. 
 
 These two are most effectively given in separation, 
 for the fuller development of each. 
 
 III. To avoid intellectual difficulties, by keeping our 
 assertions within such bounds as a listener will tolerate. 
 
 IV. Failing real presentation, or pictorial vividness, 
 to conform to the emotional harmonies of the language 
 employed. 
 
 I. To set forth the Deity as an object of love or affec- 
 tion. 
 
 In the absence of direct vision of lovable or fascinating 
 qualities — such, for example, as inspire the intense attach- 
 ments among ourselves, — the modes of presentation are 
 mainly the following. 
 
 (1) To dwell on the aspect of Divine Power, as Grandeur, 
 Majesty, Sublimity and Elevation. The basis of reference 
 here is, in the first place, the works of nature, which are 
 connected with the Deity as their author, and are there- 
 fore the measure and visible embodiment of His greatness. 
 Accordingly, as we can feel the charms of natural grandeur 
 and beauty, and can refer them to a personal source, we 
 may entertain a disinterested admiration for that great and 
 sublime personality. Poetry has lent its aid to this effect ; 
 as will be seen in the examples that are to follow. 
 
 The second form of Divine Power consists in represent- 
 ing the world as a kingdom subject to government ; whence 
 is derived the majesty of a monarch with all the imposing 
 attributes of rule, includmg triumph over enemies. 
 
 These two aspects of power are, however, rarely found in 
 separation, and need not be so in order to their full effect. 
 We have the Divine majesty in the following : —
 
 THE DIVINE POWER AND MAJESTY. 193 
 
 My God, how wonderful thou art, 
 
 Thy majesty how bright ! 
 How beautiful thy mercy-seat 
 
 In depths of burning light ! 
 
 How dread are thine eternal years, 
 
 everlasting Lord! 
 By prostrate spirits day and night 
 
 Incessantly adored. 
 
 Nature is used to set forth the Divine majesty in this 
 example : — 
 
 O toll of His might, sing of His grace, 
 Whose robe is the light, whose canopy, space. 
 His chariots of wrath deep thunder-clouds form, 
 And dark is His path on the wings of the storm. 
 
 We have the aspect of the Divine rule over the world in 
 Watts's Hynm (a paraphrase of the 100th Psalm) : — 
 
 Before Jehovah's awful throne, 
 
 Ye nations, bow with sacred joy ; 
 Know that the Lord is God alone ; 
 
 He can create and He destroy. 
 
 His sovereign power, without our aid, 
 
 Made us of clay, and formed us men. 
 And when, like wandering sheep, we strayed, 
 
 He brought us to His fold again. 
 
 The conception of the Divine government attains its 
 highest form for emotional purposes in the power and king- 
 dom of Jesus Christ. This form has the advantages of 
 easier apprehension, and of heing united with elements (to 
 be presently specified) that neutralize the aspects of mere 
 terror. We see this in the following example : — 
 
 He comes in blood-stained garments ; 
 
 Upon His brow a crown ; 
 The gates of brass fly open, 
 
 The iron bands drop down. 
 From off the fettered captive 
 
 The chains of Satan fall. 
 While angels shout triumphant 
 
 That Christ is Lord of all. 
 
 In the next instance we have this idea mingling with that of 
 the Divine reign over creation : — 
 
 Hallelujah ! hark, the sound, 
 
 From the depths unto the skies, 
 Wakes above, beneath, around, 
 
 All creation's harmonies ; 
 See Jehovah's banner furled. 
 
 Sheathed His sword : He speaks ; 'tis done ; 
 And the kingdoms of this world 
 
 Are the kingdoms of His Son.
 
 194 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 (2) To expatiate on the Divine Goodness, Beneficence, 
 ]\rercy. This involves the correlative circumstance of our 
 weakness, dependence, liability to sutfering. God as fatlier 
 is the utmost in this kind. 
 
 The Goodness of the Deity is also extracted from 
 Nature, in so fiir as beneficent in its workings. All our 
 earthly joj^s are ascribed to the Author of the universe. 
 
 The goodness of God in natural things is thus expressed 
 in Bishop Wordsw^orth's Hymn, ' O Lord of heaven ' : — 
 
 The golden sunshine, vernal air, 
 Sweet flowers and fruits Thy love declare ; 
 ^Vhere harvests ripen, Thou art there, 
 Giver of all. ~ 
 
 For peaceful homes and healthful days, 
 For all the blessings earth displaj's, 
 We owe Thee thankfulness and praise, 
 Giver of all. 
 
 But usually, through hymns and prayers and general 
 devotional literature, the Divine goodness is represented in 
 more direct relation to man's need of help and succour. 
 This is an ever-recurring theme of the Psalms : ' The Lord 
 is my shepherd, I shall not want ' ; 'God is our refuge and 
 strength, a very present help in trouble'; 'I love the Lord, 
 because He hath heard my voice and my supplications '. 
 So also in Hymns. For example: — 
 
 Guide me, Thou great Jehovah, 
 Pilgrim through this barren land ; 
 
 I am weak, but Thou art mighty ; 
 Hold me with Thy powerful hand. 
 
 And in Cardinal Newman's well-known hymn :^ 
 
 Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, 
 
 Lead Thou me on ! 
 The night is dark, and I am far from home. 
 
 Lead Thou me on I 
 
 Here comes a serious difficulty. We have many un- 
 doubted pleasures at the hand of Nature, but also an enor- 
 mous amount of misery. This fact must be dealt with, and 
 the solution of the difficulty is our sinfuhiess; which becomes 
 a leading theme in Theology, and is treated in the most 
 copious strains of poetical exemplification. The love and 
 goodness of the Deity now take the form of providing a 
 Saviour, being God Himself incarnated. The scheme of 
 salvation ramifies into endless outgoings of doctrinal 
 expression.
 
 DIVINE GOODNESS INCARNATE. 195 
 
 Among the circumstances favourable to the operation of 
 the incarnate Saviour upon the mind, is the human per- 
 sonahty, which we can substitute for the unseen Creator. 
 A whole personal biography is unfolded wnth its stirring 
 incidents, every one of which is seized and expanded in our 
 hymnology and sermon literature. The human affections 
 can be better called forth through these means, the Saviour 
 being raised to the rank of an ideal friend and brother as 
 well as benefactor ; not the most impressive of ties, but 
 capable of being cultivated to a high degree of intensity. 
 
 Eeference may be made to Keble's ' Christian Year,' 
 where the vax'ious interesting aspects of Christ's human life 
 are turned to account — His birth, baptism, acts of mercy, 
 death and resurrection. But it is by His death as an act of 
 Divine self-sacrifice for men that feeling is most deeply 
 stirred ; and the cross naturally lends itself in a great 
 variety of ways to pathetic and moving effects. Watts's 
 stanza is an example out of a host : — 
 
 See from His head, His hands. His feet, 
 Sorrow and love flow mingled down 1 
 
 Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, 
 Or thorns compose so rich a crown ? 
 
 Moreover, these ideas are directly connected with one who 
 is conceived as still alive and still manifesting the same 
 loving attiibutes. 
 
 The emotional power of the human nature of Jesus may 
 be seen in the fact that hymns referring to the work of the 
 Holy Spirit are comparatively few and unimpressive. The 
 reason is that we have here no human life to touch us, as with 
 the Second Person of the Trinity, or even a human analogy, 
 hke the Fatherhood of the First Person. 
 
 We have to add the Gospel proclamation, as a jubilee 
 to mankind. This may be set forth with reference to its 
 bearing on mankind in general, or in regard to the blessings 
 it bestows on the individual. 
 
 We may again remark that Gratitude is not ordinarily 
 a powerful emotion, or an approach to the love affection in 
 its best form. It is proverbially uncertain and fitful ; being 
 easily cooled by disappointed expectations. Only in the 
 rarest cases does it take possession of the mind in the shape 
 of fascination with the object, so as to become the basis of 
 a strong and enduring attachment. We have seen its severe 
 conditions in the love of parents and in friendship. When,
 
 196 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 however, a man conceives of himself as in deep need, and 
 believes that his need is met by God and the incarnate 
 Saviour, the conditions for strong emotion are supplied. 
 
 "While the attributes of the Divine Being, directly or in- 
 directly presented, must be the fundamental object of 
 religious emotion, there are many subordinate sources and 
 forms of such feelings. There is the whole range of the 
 Christian life, its various aspects and circumstances finding 
 abundant expression in devotional literature — its difficulties 
 and its duties, its sorrows and its joys, its fears and its 
 hopes. The mystery and awfulness of death find a place, 
 together with the Christian's hopes stretching beyond it. 
 Heaven, as the final home and the place of God's most 
 direct manifestation, is abundantly celebrated. The Church, 
 too, as the outward embodiment of Christ's cause, and all 
 that is connected with the advancement of that cause and 
 the Christian's hopes of its ultimate triumph, furnishes 
 material for the nourishment of Christian feeling. 
 
 II. So to express our own feelings, and the feelings of 
 worshippers generally, as to induce a sympathetic concur- 
 rence in those addressed. 
 
 Even when men do not feel themselves, they are drawn 
 by sympathy with their fellows. Hence, to express strongly 
 what is felt by others, is a means of awakening our dormant 
 sensibilities. The hymnology provides largely for this 
 influence. The usual conditions of all modes of address to 
 the feelings must be complied with ; the language to be 
 adequate, and if possible poetically original, and not stronger 
 than the hearer can accept. 
 
 We may refer to Addison under this head : — 
 
 When all Thy mercies, my God, 
 
 INIy rising soul surveys, 
 Transported with the view, I'm lost 
 
 In wonder, love, and praise. 
 
 This stanza is complete in itself. It gives first the attribute 
 of goodness, and next the response ; the language being 
 ecstatic in its force. But looking at the hymn as a whole, 
 we find that, from stanza three onwards, it is made up of a 
 series of ilhistrations of Divine goodness, ending with several 
 forms of supplication. The preferable arrangement would 
 have been, — first the examples of goodness, next the expres- 
 sions of gratitude, lastly the supplication. 
 
 lustead of giving full expression to the individual feel-
 
 SYMPATHETIC CONCUKKENCE IN WORSHIP. 197 
 
 ings, and following that up with the concurrence of fellow- 
 worshippers on earth, it is not uncommon to rush at once 
 to an invocation of the heavenly host, saints and angels, as 
 transcendent examples of grateful adoration. 
 
 Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice, 
 
 From reahn to realm the notes shall sound : 
 
 And Heaven's exulting sons rejoice 
 To bear the full Hosanna round. 
 
 Not satisfied with this lofty concurrence, the hymn-writer 
 often summons inanimate nature to aid in the song of 
 praise ; thus, in a still higher degree, incurring the danger of 
 loss of reality, as well as of influence on our human sympa- 
 thies : — 
 
 Thy praise transported Nature sung 
 
 In pealing chorus loud and far ; 
 The echoing vault with rapture rung, 
 
 And shouted every morning star. 
 
 In still great-er detail is the following : — 
 
 Ye clouds that onward sweep. 
 Ye winds on pinions light, 
 Ye thunders, echoing loud and deep, 
 Ye lightnings, wildly bright, 
 In sweet consent unite your Alleluia ! 
 Ye floods and ocean billows, 
 Ye storms and winter snow, 
 Ye days of cloudless beauty. 
 Hoar frost and sumrner glow ; 
 Ye groves that wave in spring, 
 And glorious forests smg. 
 
 The laudation in the Communion Service of the Ijiturgy 
 makes an appeal to the Heavenly Host in language of 
 combined simplicity and grandeur : — 
 
 " Therefore with angels and archangels, and with all 
 the company of heaven, we laud and magnify Thy glorious 
 name ; evermore praising Thee, and saying. Holy, holy, 
 holy. Lord God of Hosts, heaven and earth are full of 
 Thy glory : glory be to Thee, Lord Most High". 
 
 While theological doctrines must be assumed more or 
 less as the basis of thought, they should not be directly 
 obtruded except when they have some emotional virtue ; 
 and even then the formal or technical shape needs to be 
 avoided. The following example from Heber is illustra- 
 tive : —
 
 198 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty ! 
 
 All Thy works shall praise Thy name in earth and sky and sea : 
 Holy, holy, holy ! merciful and mighty ! 
 
 God in Three Persons, Blessed Trinity 1 
 
 The language and the thought of the first three lines are 
 suited to the expression of feehng : not so the last. 
 
 III. To avoid or obviate intellectual doubts and difficul- 
 ties, it is requisite to accommodate the language to the state 
 of rnind of the hearers. Much of the eloquence of the old 
 theologians, and even the beauty of the hymns of early 
 ages, is now lost, from violating the standard of credibility 
 in our generation. While the argument from Design is still 
 generally received, the ancient modes of representing the 
 Divine Goodness are objected to by a large number of minds. 
 Inconsistent statements are called in question. The Divine 
 Government necessarily involves a severity of discipline 
 upon offenders, which cannot be entirely kept out of sight. 
 
 Eeligious feeling, properly so called, is of course confined 
 to those already convinced. With these, the object is so to 
 shape the expression of the ideas as to accommodate them 
 to changed modes of conception. 
 
 IV. To conform to the laws of emotional harmony. The 
 education in religious feeling is most dependent on hallowed 
 associations wdth sacred objects in general, and with lan- 
 guage in particular. The emotional effect of representing 
 God as a father is largely due, not to our own experience of 
 the relation, but to the feelings growing up under the re- 
 peated employment of the term in religious services. 
 
 Eeferring, for example, to Keble'sHymn on Morning, we 
 are aware that we do not realize the assertions made in it, 
 even as pictures to the imagination. 
 
 New every morning is the love 
 Our wakening and uprismg prove. 
 Through sleep and darkness safely hronght, 
 Kestorcd to life, and power, and thought. 
 
 New mercies, each returning day, 
 
 Hover around us while we pray ; 
 
 New perils past, new skis forgiven. 
 
 New tlioughts of God, new hopes of heaven. 
 
 Under this condition, it becomes all-important to select 
 terms exactly accommodated to the feelings, and to avoid 
 discords of language.
 
 MILTON ON THE DIVINE ATTRIBUTES. 199 
 
 Peomiscuous Examples. 
 
 The poetic handling of the Divine attributes may be 
 studied in Paradise Lost. The two passages at Book IV. 720, 
 V. 153, are pure Natural Eeligion. The second is the best 
 in point of fulness. We there see the art of awakening 
 emotion by an adequate delineation of the objects, coupled 
 with the other great device of expressing the feelings of 
 individual beholders. 
 
 These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
 
 Ahnighty ! Thme this universal frame, 
 
 Thus wondrous fair : Thyself how wondrous then ! 
 
 Unspeakable, who sittest above these heavens 
 
 To us invisible, or dimly seen 
 
 In these Thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
 
 Thy goodness beyond thought, and power Divine. 
 
 This is a grand comprehensive assertion of Divine goodness; 
 power being only hinted at. No better adjustment could be 
 made to impress the human feelings with the Divine nature 
 on its most attractive side. The poet then calls in the most 
 illustrious of worshippers, to display their feelings, and 
 awakens sympathetic concurrence : — 
 
 Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, 
 Angels, — for ye behold Him, and with songs 
 And choral symphonies, day without night, 
 Circle His throne rejoicing — ye in heaven. 
 
 Milton then reverts to the array of the Universe, and recites 
 its glories in detail — Sun, Moon, Stars, Elements of Nature, 
 Clouds, Winds, Fountains, Plants, Birds, and inhabitants of 
 water and earth. Throughout the description, he is careful 
 to give the grand, imposing and benign aspects of the 
 Creator's might ; and ends with the supplication, in the same 
 strain — 
 
 Be bounteous still 
 To give us only good. 
 
 The ideal picture is kept intact, and pure from any admix- 
 ture of the unlovable displays of power. The parental 
 relation is the setting of the whole. 
 
 More varied, but less consummate in selection of parti- 
 culars, is Pope's ' Universal Prayer '. 
 
 The first stanza is the most effective. The Poet's 
 instinct tells him that an intense expression of paternity is 
 one sure road to the human heart : —
 
 200 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 Father of all ! iii every age, 
 
 In every clime adored, 
 By saint, by savage, and by sage, 
 Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! 
 
 Here, however, too little is given to the idea of fatherhood. 
 A stanza might have been devoted to it alone ; and another 
 to the chorus of worshippers. Pope prefers the human com- 
 pany to the celestial host of Milton. 
 The second stanza is — 
 
 Thou great First Cause, least understood, 
 
 Who all my sense confined 
 To know but this, that Thou art good. 
 
 And that myself am blind. 
 
 The self-surrender of the worshipper is here justified by his 
 incapability to comprehend the First Cause. As in the 
 former stanza, the groundwork is assumed without being 
 helped out in any way. It contributes nothing to tender 
 regard ; nevertheless, the prostration of the creature before 
 the Creator is a standing element of the religious sentiment. 
 Most of the remaining stanzas treat of moral duties and 
 sympathies with fellow-beings ; which Pope identiiies with 
 religion. Humility is the prevailing theme ; but is imper- 
 fectly supported. The paternal benignity of God is weakly 
 expressed, thus — 
 
 What blessings Thy free bounty gives, 
 Let me not cast away ; 
 Or thus — 
 
 Yet not to earth's contracted span 
 Thy goodness let me bound. 
 
 It is too much to expect weak human beings to extend 
 sympathy to ' thousand worlds ' around. 
 
 The closing stanza is an appeal to the grandeur of the 
 Author of Nature, but scarcely reaches the springs of tender 
 emotion : — 
 
 To Thee, whose temple is all space, 
 
 Whoso altar, earth, sea, skies, 
 One chorus let all Being raise, 
 All Nature's incense rise I 
 
 This is a middle flight of mere power, equally removed from 
 its malignant and from its benignant exercise. 
 
 The vague conception of the Divine Being, which lies at 
 the basis of the prayer, by leading to negation of personal 
 aspects, is higlily unfavourable to emotion. So also are 
 Buch obviously argumentative references as these : —
 
 pope's univeesal peayer. 201 
 
 What blessings Thy free bounty gives, 
 
 Let me not cast away ; 
 For God is paid ivhen man receives, 
 
 T enjoy is to obey. 
 
 Let not this weak, unknomng hand 
 
 Presume Thy bolts to throw. 
 And deal damnation round the land 
 
 On each I judge my foe. 
 
 Pope's few attempts at sacred composition are greatly 
 surpassed by the well-known hymns of Addison. The 
 version of the 19th Psalm is felt at once to be the work of 
 a master. It portrays the Deity on the side of creative 
 majesty, in the only way that this can be made effective, 
 that is. by a highly impressive representation of the grandeur 
 and sublimity of nature. 
 
 Its three stanzas possess a unity and method very un- 
 usual in such compositions ; and the good effect is ap- 
 parent. The theme is the heavenly bodies, where the 
 grandeur and majesty of the universe is most conspicuous 
 and least alloyed. 
 
 The first stanza is mixed. One half is a poetical survey 
 of the firmament of stars ; and the second half is devoted 
 to the sun, whose rendering is a personification. 
 
 Th' unweary'd sun, from day to day 
 Does his Creator's pow'r display. 
 
 The second stanza is not wholly free from the vice o\ 
 repetition to this extent, that the glories of night are already 
 assumed in the phraseology of the previous stanza ; since 
 the ' spangled heavens ' appear only in the absence of the 
 sun: — 
 
 Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail. 
 
 The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 
 
 And, nightly, to the list'ning earth. 
 
 Repeats the story of her birth. 
 
 We must excuse the want of conformity to fact as regards 
 the moon's nightly appearance, which is very different from 
 what is here stated. We are considering only the rhetorical 
 value of the piece : — 
 
 Whilst all the stars that round her burn, 
 And all the planets in their turn, 
 Confirm the tidings as they roll, 
 And spread the truth from pole to pole. 
 
 10
 
 202 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 It has been a common fiction of poetry to make the stars 
 attendants on the moon ; and this idea would have been 
 preferable here to ' burning ' around her, a metaphor too 
 strong for a star shining in the moonlight. The intro- 
 duction of the planets completes the celestial host, although 
 these are not very apparent to the uneducated mind. 
 Nevertheless, these are two fine stanzas. The iteration of 
 the idea of revealing the Creator is somewhat excessive ; it 
 need not have been appended to the mention of each class 
 of objects, but would have had more emphasis, if given once 
 for all at the end of the description. 
 
 The last stanza belongs to an age of rising scepticism. 
 People were beginning to ask, How do we know that a 
 Creative Mind is the sole explanation of the universe ? 
 and they pointed to the absence of all visible signs of 
 personality. Addison meets the difficulty in the only way 
 it could be met, and embodies the solution in the same high 
 poetic strain. 
 
 What though in solemn silence all 
 Move round the dark terrestrial ball? 
 In Beason's car they all rejoice — 
 
 This is the answer to the sceptic ; it is by an inference, or a 
 process of reasoning, that we assign the origin of the world 
 to a creator. 
 
 The composers of hymns generally make light of all 
 intellectual difficulties. They are so far right, when they 
 know their audience ; they address themselves to the 
 implicit faith of the Christian multitude. Still, it is a 
 matter not to be neglected, to consider how far this implicit 
 faith will carry them, and at what points doubt and difficulty 
 may attach to their utterances ; as, for example, the un- 
 bounded and unqualified assertion of the Divine goodness. 
 Addison's hynm is a solitary, and so far successful, attempt 
 to grapple with one of the difficulties. 
 
 "While the Hymn is the form of composition most 
 directly conceived for awakening religious emotion, the 
 sermon also has in view the same effect, but in combination 
 with other aims, more or less intellectual. 
 
 A few sentences from Kobert Hall will exemplify his 
 endeavours to stir the human heart. 
 
 "To estrange ourselves from God is to be guilty of a 
 " new and most enormous kind of offence ; it is forgetting
 
 HALL ON THE DIVINE NATURE. 203 
 
 " our proper parent, the author of our being, the very 
 " source of our existence." This is the language of a threat, 
 which may move us, but not in the direction of love. In- 
 deed, the necessity of employing threats is one of the 
 misfortunes of parental discipline. 
 
 " To love Him, to seek union with Him in the closest 
 "manner possible, is to return to our proper original — to 
 " seek Him from whom all our powers are derived, and by 
 "whom alone they can be sustained in time, and must be 
 "consummated and completed in eternity." " To return to 
 our proper original" is not a very happy expression. 
 The other clauses are an appeal to our gratitude for the 
 powers conferred upon us, and to our interest in having 
 these powers maintained and perfected. 
 
 " If you were to see a person manifest no desire for the 
 "presence of an earthly parent, you would be shocked at 
 " the spectacle, and would be ready to represent him as a 
 "prodigy of ingratitude." Unfortunately, the illustration 
 has little force ; such ingratitude is too familiar, and indeed 
 too often justified, to call forth our abhorrence. It only 
 shows the danger of pushing the parental comparison too 
 far. 
 
 "How much more would it affect a well-constituted 
 " mind to behold a creature seeking estrangement from his 
 " Heavenly Parent — living in forgetfulness of Hiin." 
 
 The line to follow in the case of the upward affection — 
 so difficult to maintain— is to represent the genuine ex- 
 amples of goodness displayed by the supposed parent ; the 
 relation stated in the abstract has too little intrinsic charm. 
 As in the stanza — 
 
 Father-like He tends and spares us, 
 Well our feeble frame He knows : 
 
 In His hands He gently bears us, 
 Rescues us from all our foes. 
 
 The language of tenderness is here employed in such a way 
 as to evoke the feeling in ourselves. 
 
 To return to Hall, a subsequent passage comes more 
 completely home to our emotion of gratitude. 
 
 "To be the source of happiness is the highest pre- 
 " rogative, the greatest pre-eminence, that one being can 
 "possess over another: it is, in fact, to be his God. It 
 " is plain that we must look higher than ourselves, 
 for the source and perpetuity of our happiness. The 
 
 (<
 
 204 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 "Divine Being possesses this qualification in the highest 
 '• degree : He is the Infinite Spirit, He only is capable of be- 
 '« stowing and assuming true, permanent, unchangmg felicity, 
 " at all periods and through all duration. The earth in this 
 "respect, with all its riches, is indigent; even the splendour 
 " of immortality is dark, as to any power capable of guidmg 
 "men to happiness, independently of the great Eternal." 
 
 All this is strongly expressed, and does everything that 
 the promise of happiness can do to inspire our attachment 
 to the Author of our being ; yet, constituted as we are, it is 
 apt to fall flat on our minds. There is not merely the 
 difficulty in obtaining assurance ; even when that is got over, 
 we still lack the ready response of affection to the call of 
 self-interest. . . 
 
 Hall endeavours to supply the proof of his position, 
 while adding fresh illustrations from his copious diction. 
 
 " God, as He is a Spirit, is capable of communicating 
 " Himself to the spirits of His rational creatures. Spirit 
 " naturally comes into contact with spirit ; and this com- 
 " munication of Himself is infinitely easy to the Divine 
 " Being. He can manifest Himself to the hearts of His 
 " people, disclose the glory of His name to them more and 
 " more, open perpetually fresh views of His character, give 
 " them fresh sensations"^of ineffable delight in the contem- 
 " plation of His excellence, lead them forward from one de- 
 "partment of His perfections to another, and make the 
 " whole creation itself speak forth His praises. Thus may 
 " He accumulate the materials of ceaseless rapture to 
 "eternity; elevating His worshippers perpetually in adora- 
 " tion, at the same time that He lays them lower in prostra- 
 " tion before Him." 
 
 In his gorgeous discourse, entitled " The Glory of God 
 in Concealing," Hall makes an effective employment of the 
 influence of the mysterious on the human mind; not, how- 
 ever, without a certain amount of special pleading. Mystery 
 and conceahnent may be carried to such a pitch as to prove 
 harassing rather than a charm or fascination. 
 
 " The Deity is intended to be the everlasting field of the 
 " human intellect, as well as the everlasting object of the 
 " human heart, the everlasting portion of all holy and happy 
 " minds, who are destined to spend a blissful but ever-active 
 " eternity in the contemplation of His glory." Here there 
 is a mixed appeal to our affections and to our intellectual
 
 MYSTERY A LIMITED INTEREST. 205 
 
 pleasures; in point of fact, the last-named constitute the 
 theme of the passage. 
 
 " If we stretch our powers to the uttermost, we shall 
 " never exhaust His praise, never render Him adequate 
 " honour, never discharge the full amount of claim which He 
 "possesses upon our veneration, obedience, and gratitude. 
 "When we have loved Him with the greatest fervour", our 
 " love will still be cold compared with His title to devoted 
 " attachment." There is no real force in these hyperbolical 
 statements ; they miss the way to the human heart. 
 
 "This will render Him the continual source of fresh 
 " delight to all eternity." The inference is by no means 
 plain. "His perfection will be an abyss never to be 
 "fathomed; there will be depths in His excellence which we 
 " shall never be able to penetrate. We shall delight in 
 '* losing ourselves in His infinity." Not necessarily; we 
 may be equally liable to the pain of being baffled in our 
 endeavours. 
 
 " In the contemplation of such a Being, we are in no 
 " danger of going beyond our subject ; we are conversing 
 " with an infinite object ... in the depths of whose 
 " essence and purposes we are for ever lost. This will 
 " (probably) give all the emotions of freshness and astonish- 
 " ment to the raptures of the beatific vision, and add a 
 " delightful rest to the devotions of eternity." Theologians 
 have drawn largely on their own uninspired imagination 
 for the pictures of celestial bliss, and these must be 
 judged solely as to their effect on the feelings. Intellectual 
 curiosity is the charm of only a select number of minds ; 
 and such will not be carried away by the very doubtful 
 assertions that Hall indulges in. His glittering language is 
 well suited to develop the theme ; but, to awaken the more 
 universal sentiment of love, a different style of addi'ess is 
 needed. It would have been still better if he had expended 
 his great powers in a simple, unqualified, and harmoniously 
 sustained appeal to the human a,ffections. 
 
 Cardinal Newman, speaking of ' The Benediction of the 
 Blessed Sacrament,' makes such an appeal with effective 
 simplicity : — 
 
 " As sons might come before a parent before going to 
 bed at night, so, once or twice a week, the great Catholic 
 family comes before the Eternal Father, after the bustle or 
 toil of the day, and He smiles upon them, and sheds upon
 
 206 FEELING EXEMPLIFICATION, 
 
 them the hght of His countenance." " It is," he says sub- 
 sequently, "one of the moat hf^aufiful, naiural, and soot liivrf 
 actions of the Church" ; which brings the rite close to the 
 tender regards. 
 
 TENDEENESS IN NATUEAL OBJECTS. 
 
 The interest in Nature, including inanimate objects, 
 together with plants and animals, has been already brought 
 into view (p. 53), The Tender interest, in particular, is 
 inseparable from erotic poetry. 
 
 Personification and Association combine to impart tender 
 feeling to the outer world; and objects rendered interesting 
 from these causes are introduced into poetry, either as 
 principals or as accessories and surroundmgs. 
 
 The chief liability to failure in all such references is 
 assuming for them a gi-eater height of emotion than the 
 average reader can rise to. 
 
 Milton's Night Scene, in the Fourth Book of Paradise 
 Lost, accumulates circumstances of Nature interest, more or 
 less impregnated with tender feeling, and nowise out of 
 harmony with it. Even the celestial allusions, although 
 tending to the sublime, are suited to the calm and repose of 
 the loving emotion. 
 
 Now came still Evening on, and T-\vilight grey 
 Had in her sober livery all things clad ; 
 Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird. 
 They to their grassy couch, these to their nests 
 Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; 
 She all night long her amorous descant sung. 
 Silence was pler.sed. Now glowed the firmament 
 With living sapphire ; Plesperus, tliat led 
 The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon, 
 Kising In cloudy majesty, at length 
 Apparent queen unveiled her peerless light, 
 And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. 
 
 The accumulated circumstances of autumnal decay are 
 given in Thomson thus : — 
 
 The pale descending year, yet pleasing still, 
 A gentler mood inspires ; for now the leaf 
 Incessant rustles from the mournful grove ; 
 Oft startling such as, studious, walk below, 
 And slowly circles through the waving air. 
 But should a quicker breeze amid the boughs 
 Sob, o'or the sky the leafy deluge streams ;
 
 NATURE TENDEENESS — THOMSON, SHELLEY, KEATS. 207 
 
 Till choked, and matted with the dreary shower, 
 The forest walks, at every rising gale, 
 Eoll wide the withered waste, and whistle bleak. 
 Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields ; 
 And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race 
 Their sunny robes resign. Even what remained 
 Of stronger fruits falls from the naked tree ; 
 And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around 
 The desolated prospect thrills the soul. 
 
 The general effect here is alhance with tender emotion, 
 which is made more decided by the suggestion of decay. It 
 is not difficult to assign the poetical bearing of every one of 
 the circumstances. In some instances, the images are 
 allied to power, as 'the leafy deluge,' ' the rising gale,' ' the 
 blasted verdure,' but these pass at once into the pathos of 
 decay and desolation. 
 
 Even the grandeurs of the world's scenery can easily 
 assume the tender aspect, without a sense of discord. As 
 
 in Shelley : — 
 
 She moved upon this earth a shape of brightness, 
 
 A power that from its objects scarcely drew 
 
 One impulse of her being — in her lightness 
 
 ilost like some radiant cloud of morning dew. 
 
 Which wanders through the waste air's pathless blue, 
 
 To nourish some far desert : she did seem 
 
 Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew, 
 
 Like the bright shade of some immortal dream 
 
 Which walks, when tempest sleeps, the v:ave of life's dark stream. 
 
 We feel no unsuitability for the poet's aim, which is to 
 inspire love, in quoting objects belonging to the higher 
 sphere of nature's sublimity. 
 
 Even the sublime grandeurs of the celestial orbs are 
 subservient to the tender and pathetic interest when they 
 are employed as signs to mark the recurrence of interesting 
 human avocations. As in Milton — 
 
 The star that bids the shepherd fold. 
 
 The following is from Keats : — 
 
 Together had he left his mother fair 
 And his twin-sister sleeping in their bower, 
 And in the morning twilight wandered forth 
 Beside the osiers of a rivulet, 
 Full ankle-deep in lilies of the vale. 
 The nightingale had ceased, and &feiv stars 
 Were lingering in the heavens, while tlie thrvsTi 
 Began calm-throated. Throughout all the isle 
 There was no covert, no retired cave 
 Unhaunted by the murmurous noise of waves. 
 Though scarcely heard in many a green recess.
 
 203 FEELING— EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Again, in Wordsworth : — 
 
 All things that love the sun are out of doors ; 
 
 The sky rejoices in the morning's birth ; 
 
 The grass is bright with rain-drops ; — on the moors 
 
 The hare is running races in her mirth ; 
 
 And ivith her feet she from the plashy earth 
 
 liaises a mist ; that, glitteiing in the sun, 
 
 Runs icith her all the way, wherever she doth run. 
 
 The flowers are especially the ministers of pathos, as 
 the trees are of strength. The rose has the admitted pre- 
 eminence : its charms to the senses are readily augmented 
 by the subtle infusion of protective tenderness, and its 
 value to the poet is correspondingly great. The violet, the 
 primrose, the blue bell, the lily of the valley, and many 
 others have also admitted poetic rank. The daisy, too, has 
 its interest ; but has been, perhaps, overtasked both by 
 Wordsworth and by Burns. The ode of Burns ' To a 
 Mountain Daisy ' barely escapes maudlin, notwithstanding 
 the poetic setting in company with the lark. Much less 
 regret would suffice for uprooting a daisy in the plough's 
 track. Moreover, to tag on to such a small incident a series 
 of moral lessons — to the artless maid, to the imprudent 
 bard, and to the unfortunate generally, — seems an inversion 
 of the order of supporting and supported. 
 
 Tennyson's harmonizing faculty finds congenial exer- 
 cise in this field. The following is from (Enoiie : — 
 
 O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida, 
 Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 For now the noonday quiet holds the hill : 
 The grasshopper is silent in the grass : 
 The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, 
 Bests like a shadow, and the winds are dead. 
 The purple flower droops ; the golden bee 
 Is lily-cradled: I alone awake. 
 My eyes are full of tears, &c. 
 
 SORROW.— PATHOS. 
 
 When misery cannot be relieved in kind, that is, by the 
 means strictly adapted to the case, as poverty by alms, sick- 
 ness by remedies ; there is an assuaging power through the 
 display of tender emotion. This may take the shape either 
 of sympathy from others, or of grief on the part of the 
 sut!"erer, which latter is tenderness towards self. The situ- 
 ation is expressed by Sorrow, and gives the meaning to
 
 CALAMITIES INCIDENT TO THE LOVE PASSION. 209 
 
 Pathos, as a specific mode of evoking the tender feeling. 
 Fr-oni the circumstances of human life, we have here one of 
 the most frequent occasions for drawing upon the fountains 
 of that emotion. 
 
 Thus, in our irretrievable losses by Death, recourse is 
 had to the indulgence of Sorrow as an assuaging influence ; 
 and poetry has greatly contributed to the effect. 
 
 Pathos, in the limited sense, finds illustration under all 
 the heads of Tender Feeling; and, in the review of those 
 already given, examples of what is now meant have inci- 
 dentally occurred. Still, by an express handling, important 
 points connected with the quality of Feeling will receive the 
 prominence due to them. 
 
 Erotic Pathos. 
 
 The griefs of lovers occupy a large space in the poetry of 
 love. The oldest treatment of the' passion is devoted to its 
 sorrows. We do not hear of the love-making of Helen and 
 Menelaus ; but, in a splendid chorus of the Afjameriwnn, 
 ^schylus pictures the misery of the husband after his 
 wife's abduction. 
 
 The chief calamities incident to the passion are un- 
 requited love, desertion, and loss by death. 
 
 When the feeling is once aroused to its passionate height, 
 the distress of unreturned affection is correspondingly great. 
 Poets have endeavoured to console the sufferer, but still 
 oftener have employed ridicule to quench the flame. The 
 Lyric poets are accustomed to express the feelings of the 
 lover by a lament uttered by himself. Burns' s ' Mary 
 Morison ' is an example : only high poetic power can secure 
 by such a strain the sympathy of the ordinary reader. 
 Browning's favourite attitude for the rejected lover — quiet 
 resignation, combining deep feeling with continued appre- 
 ciation of the loved one's excellences — is felt to be the 
 worthier mode of outlet. 
 
 Being deserted, or forsaken, after having the fruition of 
 love, is a more tragic incident. The chorus of ^schylus 
 can be studied for this situation. All that he attempts is 
 to reflect the grief of Menelaus in his surroundings. In 
 his longing, ' a phantom will seem to rule the house. The 
 grace of goodly statues hath grown irksome to his gaze, and 
 in his widowhood of weary eyes all beauty fades away. But
 
 210 FEELING — EXEJIPLIFICATION. 
 
 dreams that glide in sleep with sorrow, visit him, conveying 
 a vain joy ; for vain it is, when one hath seemed to see good 
 things, and lo, escaping through his hands, the vision 
 flies apace on wings that follow on the paths of sleep.' 
 (Symonds.) 
 
 Virgil's masterpiece, the desertion of Dido by ^neas, is 
 pathetic from the wonderful testimony to the strength of 
 her affection, shown at first by her modes of courtship, and 
 in the end by her self-immolation. No solace is provided 
 for herself, and not much for those that may afterwards 
 undergo her fate ; but, at a time when the passion of love 
 had been but little celebrated, we are presented with an 
 example at the highest pitch of intense devotion. An 
 ancient poet could give such sufferers only the consolation 
 of revenge. The reader is compensated for the pain of the 
 story, partly by the treatment, and partly by an outburst of 
 indignation against the betrayer. 
 
 Loss by desertion is handled by Burns in many forms. 
 ' Ye banks and braes ' is a case of sustained grief, with the 
 usual appeal to sympathetic surroundings. The language 
 is soft and touching throughout ; and we cannot but chime 
 in with the forsaken lover's remonstrances to the banks and 
 braes and the singing birds, as a natural mode of venting 
 her feelings. 
 
 As in Dido's case, the expression of forsaken love lends 
 itself readily to the passionate forms of Strength, when 
 indignation becomes the leading emotion. We have here 
 the example of CEnone. 
 
 Forced separation necessarily receives a like treatment 
 with desertion. As an example, we may mention William 
 Motherwell's poem of ' Jeanie Morrison '—a lyric depicting a 
 love of boyhood interrupted by long separation, yet faithfully 
 clung to. It includes little or no effort to set forth the 
 object of love ; she had been but a girl then, and she might 
 be changed now. But the love itself is portrayed in all 
 the forms appropriate to boyhood, together with the feelings 
 of deepest sorrow awakened by its niemories, and earnest 
 longings to know whether her feehngs are still the same. 
 Thus : — 
 
 O dear, dear Jcanic TNIorrison, 
 
 Since we were sindered young, 
 I've never seen your face, nor hoard 
 
 The music o' your tongue ;
 
 FORCED SEPARATION OF LOVERS. 211 
 
 But I could hug all wretchedness, 
 
 And happy could I dee, 
 Did I but ken your heart still dreamed 
 
 0' bygane days and me ! 
 
 Like most erotic poets, Tennyson often adverts to the 
 case of forced separation. He does so specifically in ' Love 
 and Duty'. The occasion is a final intervievr, where the 
 intensity of feeling appears ; but dignified by the sacrifice, 
 and the man's effort at comfort : — 
 
 Then followed counsel, comfort, and the words 
 That make a man feel strong in speaking truth. 
 
 The pathos proper to the occasion emerges at various 
 
 points : — 
 
 Ill-fated that I am, what lot is mine 
 
 Whose fore-sight preaches peace, my heart to show 
 
 To feel it ! 
 
 There is also a felicitous combination of comforting 
 strength and of the personal sorrovp that is needed to keep 
 that strength from turning to fustian : — 
 
 Live happy ; tend thy flowers ; he tended by 
 
 My blessmg ! Should my shadow cross thy thoughts 
 
 Too sadly for their peace, remand it thou 
 
 For calmer hours to Memory's darkest hold, 
 
 If not to be forgotten — not at once — 
 
 Not all forgotten. Should it cross thy dreams, 
 
 O miglit it come like one that looks content. 
 
 With quiet eyes unfaithful to the truth, &c. 
 
 The flower clause in the first line is perhaps a false note. 
 
 Loss by Death is a situation that can be dealt with only 
 by the gentlest means. The management is the same for 
 all the forms of strong affection — parental, filial, or other. 
 Poetic treatment has been abundantly bestowed upon each ; 
 and the method for one is applicable to the others. 
 
 The conjugal losses are often aggravated by worldly 
 privations, for which neither sympathy nor poetry can 
 supply consolation. 
 
 Milton's Sonnet on his deceased wife is learned and 
 fanciful, rather than pathetic. She is made to appear to 
 him in a dream, and her virtues are thus expressed — 
 
 Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. 
 
 Her face was veiled ; yet to my fancied sight, 
 Love, goodness, sweetness, in her person shined 
 
 So clear, as in no face with more delight.
 
 212 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 The grief of Andromache for the death of Hector is real 
 and truthful. Allowing for the necessities of the poem, 
 which is fruitful in tragic scenes, the description of her 
 behaviour is true pathos; the intensity of affection, em- 
 bodied in strongly characteristic traits, is within the hmits 
 of poetry ; which cannot be said of the picture of Achilles, 
 in his revenge for Patroclus. 
 
 ^o^ 
 
 Paeental Pathos. 
 
 The poetry of the parental relationship is more copious 
 on its pathetic than on its joyful side. The loss of children, 
 their misfortunes and ill-conduct, have been the theme of 
 lament from the earliest dawn of literature. The subject is 
 so painful that the treatment often fails to redeem it. 
 
 The slaughter of the Innocents, but for its place in 
 Sacred History, would be insufferable in art. No humane 
 mind can look with anything but revulsion on the numerous 
 paintings devoted to it ; they rank in the same class with 
 the crucifixion, and the scourging, and the martyrdoms of 
 the saints, which can be justified only by their truth and 
 their religious bearings. 
 
 Perhaps the earliest note in English poetry is given in 
 Ben Jonson's little odes to his ' First Daughter ' and his 
 'First Son'. For the daughter, parental grief, strongly 
 stated, is combined with the associations of the heavenly 
 state, and the tender adjuration to her grave to cover her 
 lightly. To the son (seven years old) he addresses pai'ental 
 fond hopes, and admiration, with a mournful congratula- 
 tion on escape from the world's misery and the sadness 
 of age. 
 
 Shakespeare's handling of little Arthur in King John, and 
 of Richard's nephews in the Tower, is unredeemed, and 
 ]n-obably unredeemable, horror. Such incidents must take 
 their place in the entire Tragedy that they belong to, and be 
 judged in that relation. 
 
 To see the capabilities of this theme, we need to refer to 
 the more recent poets : including Wordsworth, Coleridge, 
 Hartley Coleridge, Tennyson, Browning, and many more. 
 The round of topics of consolation is soon exhausted, and 
 the charm of the poetry becomes the salient merit. 
 
 As an example of the class, we may take • Casa Wappy,' 
 by D. M. j\Ioir (the 'Delta' of Blackwood), which was much
 
 SOEKOW FOR THE LOSS OP A CHILD. 213 
 
 admired by Jeffrey. To a large extent, it is an outpouring 
 of intense sorrow over the loss.* Thus — 
 
 Despair was in our last farewell, 
 
 As closed thine eye ; 
 Tears of our anguish may not tell 
 
 When thou didst die. 
 
 The child's form seems ever near : — 
 
 Do what I may, go where I will, 
 
 Thou meet'st my sight ; 
 There dost thou glide before me still — 
 
 A form of light ! 
 I feel thy breath upon my cheek — 
 I see thee smile, I hear thee speak — 
 Till, oh 1 my heart is like to break, 
 
 Casa Wappy 1 
 
 The parent naturally dwells on every memory of his child, 
 and rehearses all the circumstances of their parting. All 
 this is in itself painful ; but when we have to do with a 
 haunting sorrow, there is a measure of relief in the simple 
 utterance of it, just as tears relieve the physical oppression ; 
 and this relief will be felt by a reader in similar circum- 
 stances. Moreover, to dwell on the thought of the happi- 
 ness the child had conferred, though in one aspect increasing 
 the pain, does, nevertheless, give pleasure through the 
 memory of it. This, indeed, is the only form of comfort 
 expressed, apart from the consolations of religion. 
 
 These appear chiefly in two forms. First, there is the 
 thought of the child's present happiness, with which the 
 poem opens, and to which it returns : — 
 
 Yet, 'tis sweet balm to our despair. 
 
 Fond, fairest boy, 
 That heaven is God's and thou art there, 
 
 With Him in joy ; 
 There past are death and all its woes, 
 There beauty's stream for ever flows, 
 And pleasure's day no sunset knows, 
 
 Casa Wappy. 
 
 Secondly, there is the prospect of meeting again, with 
 which the poem closes : 
 
 Farewell, then — for a while, farewell — 
 
 Pride of my heart ! 
 .It cannot be that long we dwell 
 
 Thus torn apart : 
 
 *'Casa Wappy' was the pet name of a child lost by death, and was taken 
 from the child's own language.
 
 214 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Time's shadows liie the shuttle flee : 
 And, dark howe'er life's night may be, 
 Beyond the grave I'll meet with thee, 
 
 Casa Wappy. 
 
 In the general conduct of the poem we may observe that 
 the intensity of the sorrow appears natural (it was indeed 
 the outcome of actual experience) ; that this intensity never 
 assumes the form of passion ; that calmness and resignation, 
 when obviously the utterance, not of callousness, but of 
 deep feeling, have a decidedly soothing influence ; and that 
 the form of the language is in harmony with this impression. 
 
 Hood has a famous poem, devoted to the incidents of a 
 child's deathbed. There is a suspension of feeling, relieved 
 by the touches of solicitous care, and finally by the favourite 
 device of the peace and happiness attained. 
 
 We watch'd her breathing thro' the ni^lifc, 
 
 Her breathmg soft and low, 
 As in her breast the wave of life 
 
 Kept heaving to and fro. 
 
 So silently we seemed to speak, 
 
 So slowly moved about, 
 As we had lent her half our powers 
 
 To eke her living out. 
 
 Our very hopes belied our fears, 
 
 Our fears our hopes belied — 
 We thought her dying when she slept, 
 
 And sleeping when she died. 
 
 For when the morn came dim and sad 
 
 And chill with early showers, 
 Her quiet eyelids closed — she had 
 
 Another morn than ours. 
 
 The sincerity of feeling seems, however, to be interfered with 
 by the pointedness of expression ; though the ingenuities 
 are easy and obvious. The last stanza makes very fine use 
 of external circumstances to chime in with the emotion 
 portrayed, and especially to suggest the contrast of ' another 
 morn '. 
 
 Grief of Children for Parents. 
 
 Tlic loss of Parents, being in the course of nature, yields 
 the pangs of inconsolable grief only in exceptional cases. 
 
 Pope's lines to his mother have too much the air 
 of elaborate composition to give the impression of genuine 
 tenderness.
 
 FILIAL GRIEF — POPE ON HIS MOTHER. 215 
 
 Me, let the tender office long engage, 
 
 To rock the cradle of reposing age, 
 
 With lenient arts extend a mother's breath, 
 
 !Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death ; 
 
 Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, 
 
 And keep awhile one parent from the skj' ! 
 
 The attentions signalized are all of the nature of affectionate 
 care and interest ; but the artifice of the verse is too appa- 
 rent, and leads to a diversion of mind from the real emotion. 
 There is no easy continuity in the circumstantials ; they are 
 forced to suit the rhyme : * extend a mother's breath,' must 
 have for its rhyming counterpart another metaphor for the 
 same thing — ' smooth the bed of death '. This would seem 
 the natural close ; but the poet goes back to the prior 
 situation, when a smile could be evoked, and the looks 
 interpreted for something that could give relief. The last 
 line of all assumes that life can still be prolonged ; and 
 employs the very doubtful figure of keeping back from the 
 joys of heaven a parent supposed to be in the struggles of a 
 deadly malady. 
 
 Cowper's ' Lines on his Mother's Picture,' already re- 
 ferred to, are an expression of filial sorrow, which is the 
 more natural and credible from the poet's special need of a 
 mother's care. 
 
 The circumstances and arts of pathos may be well 
 studied in Thackeray's picture of Esmond at his mother's 
 grave. 
 
 " Esmond came to this spot on one sunny evening of 
 spring, and saw, amidst a thousand black crosses, casting 
 their shadows across the grassy mounds, that particular one 
 which marked his mother's resting-place. Many more of 
 those poor creatures that lay there had adopted that same 
 name with which sorrow had re -baptized her, and which 
 fondly seemed to hint their individual story of love and 
 grief. He fancied her, in tears and darkness, kneeling at 
 the foot of her cross, under which her cares were buried. 
 Surely he knelt down, and said his own prayer there, not in 
 sorrow so much as in awe (for even his memory had no 
 recollection of her) and in pity for the pangs which the 
 gentle soul in life had been made to suffer. To this cross 
 she brought them ; for this heavenly bridegroom she ex- 
 changed the husband who had wooed her, the traitor who 
 had left her. A thousand such hillocks lay round about, 
 the gentle daisies springing out of the grass over them, and
 
 216 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 each bearing its cross and reqiiiescat. A nun, veiled in 
 black, was kneeling hard by, at a sleeping sister's bed-side 
 (so fresh made that the spring had scarce had time to spin 
 a coverlid for it) ; beyond the cemetery walls you had 
 glimpses of life and the world, and the spires and gables of 
 the city. A bird came down from a roof opposite, and lit 
 first on a cross and then on the grass below it, whence it 
 flew away presently with a leaf in its mouth ; then came a 
 sound of chanting from the chapel of the sisters hard by ; 
 others had long since filled the place which poor Mary 
 ^lagdalene once had there, were kneeling at the same stall 
 and hearing the same hymns and prayers in which her 
 stricken heart had found consolation. Might she sleep in 
 peace — might she sleep in peace ! and we, too, when our 
 struggles and pains are over ! but the earth is the Lord's, as 
 the heaven is ; v,'e are alike His creatures here and yonder. 
 I took a little flower off the hillock and kissed it, and went 
 my way like the bird that had just lighted on the cross by 
 me, back into the world again. Silent receptacle of death ! 
 tranquil depth of calm, out of reach of tempest and trouble ! 
 I felt as one who had been walking below the sea, and 
 treading amidst the bones of shipwrecks." 
 
 The pathetic circumstances in this passage readily dis- 
 close themselves, and illustrate the pervading conditions of 
 the tender interest. The mother is presented to our com- 
 passion in the aspect of a great sufferer ; her sufferings being 
 given in various forms. Esmond's own feelings receive the 
 fullest expansion, and in terms calculated to awaken the 
 reader's sympathies to an acute pitch. The surroundings 
 are vividly conceived so as to be in full harmony with the 
 mourner. The nun is performing like ofliices to a sleeping 
 sister. The incident of the bird aids in picturing the scene, 
 as a suggestive circumstance. A mourning chant is heard 
 from the chapel of the sisters. To aid in the picture, to 
 bring life and death togethei', and to introduce a break in 
 the sad offices, the spires and gables of the city are intro- 
 duced to view. The usual figure of peaceful sleep is indis- 
 pensable. Resignation to the will of heaven adds to the 
 general effect. The two last sentences are poetry in prose ; 
 the pathos touching on the tragic, without losing character. 
 The whole passage is an accumulation of pathetic circum- 
 stances and expression, with a careful avoidance of any- 
 thing either discordant or irrelevant. The manner admits
 
 FILIAL GEIEF — THACKEEAY'S ESMOND. 217 
 
 of variation, but scarcely of improvement for the end. More 
 could have been said of the mother's virtues and charms, 
 but these were left to the story. 
 
 SoEROw FOR Friends. 
 
 The Pathos of Friendship's losses corresponds to the 
 strength of the feeling, which, in certain exceptional cases, 
 attains the rank of the love passion between the sexes. 
 
 Tennyson's In Memoriam is wholly based on grief for 
 a great loss. The expansion of the treatment allows every 
 circumstance to be adduced that can add to the intensity of 
 the writer's state of feeling, and inspire the reader with a 
 corresponding intensity. The language resembles what is 
 usual under bereavement in the proper love relation. 
 
 Following the general requirements in evoking emotion, 
 whether by Strength or by Tenderness, we first ask for an 
 adequate representation of the charms and perfections of the 
 object. This Tennyson supplies, though not at the beginning, 
 in a wonderful panegyric, enumerating the choicest intel- 
 lectual and moral qualities that a human being could 
 possess. As a noble ideal it is finely drawn, and is 
 strengthened by his own contrasting self-humiliation. To 
 secure not merely admiration, but, what is more difficult, 
 intense personal affection, there are needed such touches 
 as these : — 
 
 And manhood fused witli female grace 
 In such a sort, the child would twine 
 A trustful hand, unask'd, in thine. 
 
 And find his comfort in thy face. 
 
 The difficulty of intellectual portraiture lies in being at 
 once apposite and poetical. Tennyson attempts both in 
 this stanza : — 
 
 Seraphic intellect and force 
 
 To seize and throw the doubts of man ; 
 Impassioned logic, which outran 
 
 The hearer in its fiery course. 
 
 The portraiture by incident, so much more effectual, is 
 exemplified in the previous quotation. It is not pursued 
 further in the present passage, but occurs at random 
 throughout the poem. 
 
 We look next for the subjective expression of his own
 
 218 FEELING- EXEMPLIFICATION, 
 
 feelings in such form as to command our concurring emotion. 
 The poem opens with the circumstances of the friend's 
 death, the voyage of liis remains to his own country, and all 
 the paraphernalia of grief and mourning. The greatness of 
 the loss is at first assumed. Only after the sadness of the 
 interment does he begin to celebrate the intensity of the 
 friendship (22-27) and all the joys that it brought : a 
 splendid picture of happiness, finishing by the well- quoted 
 stanza — ''Tis better to have loved and lost . . . ' This method 
 of treatment is so far true to the natural course of emotion 
 under bereavement. We do not fully realize our loss — still 
 less analyze and examine it — until the parting has been com- 
 pleted by the burial of the friend. 
 
 The harmonious accompaniments created in aid of the 
 author's emotional states would of themselves make a great 
 poem. They are scattered everywhere, and may be valued 
 by the proper tests. 
 
 After the preface, the line of thought becomes de- 
 sultory, and takes the reader through a succession of years 
 after the death of the loved one. A first mournful Christ- 
 mas is given, and leads to a discussion of the state of 
 departed spirits and the meaningless character of the 
 Universe without immortality. A dawning of comfort 
 arises out of these reflections. 
 
 A good many sections are devoted to the weakness and 
 imperfections of the writer, his need of support, and his 
 consequent sense of loss ; with more reflections upon im- 
 mortality and the hope of meeting. Then come fears and 
 questionings (54-56), including the difficulty of reconciling 
 Nature's maleficence with immortality. Many fine stanzas 
 follow. In section 75, we have this expression of the in- 
 tensity of his feelings : — 
 
 I leave thy praises unexpress'd 
 
 In verso that brings nij'self relief, 
 
 And by the measure of my grief 
 I leave thy greatness to be guess'd. 
 
 A second Christmas is reached (78) distinguished by 
 greater calmness of feeling. It introduces a new vein of 
 moral reflections on the influence of death : the real bitter- 
 ness is the interruption of connnunion. 
 
 In 83, opens a series of recollections and personal inci- 
 dents, with moralizings as usual ; and in 95, there is the re- 
 perusal of his letters. After the delineation of character,
 
 TENNYSON'S ' IN MEMORIAM '. 219 
 
 already quoted, occurs an episode on Spring and Spring 
 hopes, as suggesting a renewed intimacy beyond the grave. 
 
 Then follow the removal of the family from their old 
 home and its many associations with the dead, and a 
 Christmas kept among strangers. At each new stage, the 
 poet seeks to make us aware of the changing phases of his 
 sorrow ; we are to see in the ' merry bells ' ringing in the 
 new year that a happier era is now approaching. This 
 tone is continued in connexion with his friend's next birth- 
 day, which is now celebrated with gladness : — • 
 
 We keep the day. With festal cheer, 
 
 With books and music, surely we 
 
 Will driiik to him, whate'er he be, 
 And sing the songs he loved to hear. 
 
 This spirit is maintained through the remaining sections, 
 which supply reflections on the strengthening and mellow- 
 ing influences of sorrow, backward glances over the course 
 of his own grief, and calm descriptions of what he had re- 
 ceived from the friendship. 
 
 The end of the whole is resignation, peace, and the con- 
 viction that his friend has become, not less, but more to 
 him. He has grown into a universal presence, mingling 
 with his own life (129, 130), and leading him on to fuller 
 trust (131) in the — 
 
 Living will that shall endure 
 
 When all that seems shall suffer shock. 
 
 The difficulties to be overcome in such a poem are 
 unavoidably serious. To raise, in the name of friendship, 
 an emotion of equal intensity with sexual love at its utmost, 
 involves very great straining. The sympathy with a lover 
 for the loss of one of the opposite sex, is easily kindled : no 
 inordinate qualities of mind have to be assumed ; and a 
 very limited amount of plot and incident will suffice. To 
 bring the same result out of friendship, the friend has to be 
 constituted a rarity, a paragon, one in ten thousand. Every- 
 thing has the appearance of over-statement. 
 
 A poem thus occupied with personal affliction and in- 
 tense sorrow, needs redeeming elements. Such are found 
 here in the high-class poetry which is made to envelop all 
 the circumstantials of the bereavement, often without neces- 
 sary connexion. This is what relieves the monotony of 
 the personal bewailing. Secondly, the poem reveals a con- 
 quest over the pains of grief, such that, while the memory
 
 220 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 of the departed friend remains, it becomes no longer weak- 
 ness, but strength and comfort. If this conquest had been 
 more definitely expressed, it would have been still more 
 effectual. Thirdly, there is the celebration of the joys 
 attainable by an intense and elevated friendship. But, 
 having regard to the facts of life, we must feel that it is 
 overdone. Indeed, were an affection of such intensity to 
 occur in actual life, it would interfere with family ties, by 
 taking the place of love without the inspiration and support 
 derived from opposition of sex. It would repeat in an un- 
 desirable way, the defective side of the love affection in its 
 intensified forms, — the impossibility of being ever satisfied 
 with any but one person. 
 
 The evolution of the poem is open to criticism. Although 
 not demanding the rigorous conditions of an epic, or a 
 drama, it still needs an unfolding purpose ; and the only 
 purpose traceable is the writer's gradual approach to serenity 
 of mind. In this, however, there are none of the windings 
 of a plot. The detached passages of highly- wrought verse, 
 constantly occurring, so far sustain the interest, and are, 
 indeed, the glory of the poem. 
 
 In his piece entitled 'La Saisiaz,' Browning works up a 
 pathetic subject, the sudden death of a lady friend ; the 
 main feature in the handling being an argumentative view 
 of the future life, illustrated by powerful language and com- 
 parisons. Touches of tenderness occur, in the midst of 
 energetic argument and declamation. The following is a 
 brief example : — 
 
 Gone you were, and I shall never see that earnest face again 
 Grow transparent, grow transfigured with the sudden liglit that leapt, 
 At the first word's provocation, from the heart-deeps wliero it slept. 
 Therefore, paying piteous duty, what seemed you have wo consigned 
 Peacefully to — wl:at 1 think were, of all earth-beds, to your nimd 
 Most the choice for qijiet, yonder. 
 
 There is a mixture of business with tenderness in the lines ; 
 but tlie charm of a fine demeanour and a noble character is 
 present to awaken our emotions of love, which the sudden 
 dc'ijarture intensities. 
 
 The author freely dilates on his own pains, in language 
 severely energetic rather than softly tender, with the view 
 of augmenting our sense of his loss, and the worth of his 
 object : —
 
 COMPASSION FOR THE LOWER ANIMALS. 221 
 
 One day more will see me rid of this same scene whereat I wince, 
 Tetchy at all sights and sounds, and pettish at each idle charm 
 Proffered me who pace now singly where we two went arm in arm. 
 
 In his sustained argumentation, he nearly exhausts the 
 ways of looking at death, with a view to comfort, thus — 
 
 Why repine ? There's ever some one lives although ourselves be dead ! 
 
 Or again, an appeal to his courage to face the reality 
 whatever it may prove to be — 
 
 Why should I want courage here ? 
 I will ask and have an answer, — with no favour, with no fear, — 
 From myself. How much, how little, do I inwardly believe 
 True that controverted doctrine ? Is it fact to which I cleave, 
 Is it fancy I but cherish, when I take upon my lips 
 Phrase the solemn Tuscan fashioned, and declare the soul's eclipse 
 Not the soul's extinction? take his " I believe and I declare — 
 Certain am I — from this life I pass into a better, there 
 Where that lady lives of whom enamoured was my soul " — where this 
 Other lady, my companion dear and true, she also is ? 
 
 Benevolence as Compassion. 
 
 Compassion for human suffering generally, is a mixture 
 of tender emotion with active sympathy. The woes of 
 mankind are often far beyond the power of redress, and 
 poetry, by its usual arts, attempts to alleviate the pain of 
 contemplating them. 
 
 Pathos of this class may refer to the sufferings of man- 
 kind in general. But more usually our compassion is 
 to be evoked towards some individual, imaginary or real, 
 living or dead. Thus the errors and misfortunes of 
 Burns are the theme of two poems by Wordsworth, sug- 
 gested by a visit to his tomb ; and Mrs. Browning, writing 
 on ' Cowper's Grave,' expresses our sorrow for the mental 
 disease that clouded his life. In both cases, the sadness is 
 partly increased and partly relieved by bringing into view 
 other elements of the respective lives, while the interest is 
 greatly deepened by their poetic gifts. On the other band. 
 Hood, in 'The Bridge of Sighs,' endeavours to draw forth 
 our compassion towards a life wrecked and lost, with no 
 interest beyond this, and hence needing more to redeem it 
 from its natural horrors. 
 
 The Lower Animals share in the lot of suffering, and 
 their case has been sometimes made the subject of pathetic
 
 222 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 rendering. The Hound of Ulysses, already referred to, 
 makes one of the touching incidents of the Odijsxpy ; no 
 more being attempted than to indicate the remembrance of 
 his master after twenty years. 
 
 The following stanza of Burns, with reference to a 
 stormy winter night, expresses this pity for animals :^ 
 
 Ilk happing bkd, wee, helpless thing, 
 
 That, in the merry months o' spring, 
 
 Delighted me to hear thee sing, 
 What comes o' thee ? 
 
 Whare wilt thou cower thy chittering wing, 
 
 And close thy e'e ! 
 The luxury of pity is here indulged without too close a 
 view of the sufferings implied ; the compassion turns on 
 helplessness, aided by the pleasure derived from the lively 
 summer song. 
 
 The connexion with man suggested in this example is 
 still further increased in the case of the tamed or domesti- 
 cated animals. We may agree with Cowper's denunciation 
 of the man — 
 
 Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm ; 
 
 but it is barely possible to stir up keen compassion for 
 organisms so difl'erent from our own. Shakespeare's asser- 
 tion that — 
 
 the poor beetle that we tread upon 
 
 In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great 
 
 As when a giant dies — 
 
 is much too exaggerated to bring out a tender response.* 
 
 Pope's dying pheasant in 'Windsor Forest' is meant to be 
 patheticf The poet understands the efficacy of its beauties 
 
 * One of the most touching passages in ancient poetry is that contained in 
 Ovid's Mdamoi-phoaat (Hook XV.), where the poet, in desciil>iiig the ten ts of the 
 Pythagoreans, dwells \\\w\\ their feeling of the sacredness of luiinial life. After 
 adverting to the deserved piini.shnient of the wild beast for his ravages and siiolia- 
 tion, he exclaims, ' What have ye done to be so treated, ye gentle sliee]>, made to 
 provide for men, ye that bear nectar in the full teat, that give us your wool for 
 covering, and are more helpful in life than in death? What has the ox done, a 
 guileless, innocent beast, made to endure toil?' ' I'limindful he, and not worthy 
 to be repaid with crops, who could kill the tiller of his fields, as soon as the weight 
 of the crooked plough was renuivcd ; who struck with the axe that ne('k worn 
 with labour, whicli had so often renewed the hard tield and given so many 
 harvests !" (11612(1). 
 
 t See ! from the lirake the whirring pheasant springs, 
 And mounts exulting on triuiuiihant wings : 
 Short is his joy ; he feels the tiery wound. 
 Flutters in blood, and jjanting heats the ground. 
 Ah I what avail his glossy, varying dyes. 
 His purple crest, aud scarlet cirdeil e e-:. 
 The viviil green his shining plumes uiuold. 
 His painted wings, and breast that tiames with gold?
 
 MODES OP RECONCILING US TO DEATH, 223 
 
 of plumage in adding to our compassionate interest. Never- 
 theless, to call forth pity in such a case is hollowness and 
 mockery, seeing that the bird's death struggle comes as a 
 matter of human sport. 
 
 Patriotic Compassion. 
 
 Patriotic devotion is often tragic and pathetic ; but, 
 when a matter of history, it cannot be made to conform to 
 artistic ideals. Campbell's lament over the downfall of 
 Poland is relieved chiefly by the celebration of her cham- 
 pions. So the fall of Greece is usually redeemed by the 
 recital of her glories, as in Byron's ' Isles of Greece '. The 
 same feeling is set forth by him from the sympathetic 
 spectator's point of view, also on Greece, in ' Clime of the 
 unforgotten brave '. 
 
 The Pathos of Country is often exhibited through the 
 emotions of exile : as with the Jews in Babylon. 
 
 Goethe's Mignon song reproduces it, with characteristic 
 touches of Italy's charms. 
 
 Allan Eamsay's ' Lochaber no more,' touches all the 
 chords of pathos in quitting one's native land to settle else- 
 where. 
 
 Death. 
 
 There are various modes of reconciling us to Death. 
 The term ' Philosophy ' is the summing up of one class of 
 considerations. Eehgion is the greatest of all. The poetic 
 handling of the Tender Emotions is a distinct form ; and, 
 although occasionally standing by itself, it is the frequent 
 accompaniment of all the other modes, and is excluded from 
 none, except the severely ethical view of retribution or re- 
 compense for conduct in this life. 
 
 The ancients dilate powerfully upon philosophy, destiny 
 and life-weariness. They also use the pathos of tenderness, 
 or mixtures of that with philosophy. 
 
 Emily Bronte reaches a stern consolation, with perhaps 
 the 7nluuiium of consolatory philosophy, in ' The Old Stoic ' : 
 
 Riches I hold in light esteem, 
 
 And love I laugh to scorn ; 
 And lust of fame was but a dream, 
 
 That vanished with the morn :
 
 224 FEELING— EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Yes. as my swift days near their goal, 
 
 'Tis all that I implore ; 
 In life and death, a chainless soul, 
 
 With courage to endure. 
 
 This, however, belongs rather to strength; though with 
 pathetic leanings. 
 
 The consciousness of having done our part in life, and of 
 having fairly participated in its enjoyments, reconciles us to 
 quitting the scene in the ripeness of our days. The affec- 
 tion of friends co-operates with this source of consolation. 
 
 Funeral rites, mourning and memorials are at once a 
 partial consolation to the living for the loss of friends, and a 
 slight amelioration of the prospect of death. They are also 
 regarded as one of the institutions for gratifying our sociable 
 likings. 
 
 The consoling figures of Sleep, Eest, Eepose, end of 
 Trouble, are found among men of all creeds. The compari- 
 son of life to the course of the day supplies, as expressions 
 for its close, the shades of evening, the setting of our sun, 
 the coming of the night. These allusions may be pathetic, 
 but are not necessarily comforting. 
 
 The following are some of the many poetic renderings: — 
 
 That golden key 
 That opes the palace of Eternity. 
 
 Sinless, stirless rest — 
 
 That change which never changes — 
 
 And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb. 
 
 Gone before 
 To that unkno^vn and silent shore ; 
 Shall we not meet as heretofore 
 
 Some summer morning ? 
 
 Passing through nature to eternity. (Shakespeare.) 
 
 A death-like sleep, 
 A gentle wafting to immortal life. (Milton.) 
 
 To live in hearts wc leave behind 
 Is not to die. (Campbell.) 
 
 Keats, in the Nightingale Ode, has an ecstatic stanza on 
 Death : — 
 
 Darkling I listen ; and for many a time, 
 
 I have been half in love with easeful rea*^^h, 
 Caird him soft names in many a musM rhyme, 
 
 To take into the air my quiet breath ; 
 Now more than ever seems it rich to die. 
 
 This errs on the side of extravagance. People cannot dis-
 
 pope's * DYING CHEISTIAN '. 225 
 
 pose of death so lightly as to be reconciled by a nightingale's 
 note, even poetically heightened by the imagery of a beauti- 
 ful Ode. 
 
 The unsuitability of Pope's style to Pathos is shown in 
 his 'Dying Christian'. A series of pointed epigrams is 
 employed to contrast sharply the fading of the present life 
 and the dawning of another ; an impossible feat in reality, 
 and scarcely congenial to our imagination. The more 
 typical end of the Christian's life is ecstatic joy and hope, 
 which is susceptible of being fully represented in that 
 shape ; without the bold and unworkable fiction of having 
 a foot in each world. 
 
 The idea of relief from trouble is strongly expressed by 
 
 Longfellow in 'Evangeline ' : — 
 
 Still stands the forest primeval ; but far away from its shadow, 
 Side by side, ia their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping. 
 
 Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them ; 
 Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and for ever ; 
 Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy ; 
 Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their 
 
 labours ; 
 Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their journey. 
 
 The Horeible in Excess. 
 
 This is the lurking danger in all the compositions of 
 Pathos, and may be made the subject of a general review, 
 though it has already received illustration under the special 
 heads. 
 
 It is not to one, but to many scenes in Greek Tragedy 
 that we may apply the epithet ' heart-rendmg '. The 
 poetic adornment is scarcely enough to retrieve the horrors ; 
 we must, at last, resort to the device for shaking off the 
 incubus of a horrible dream, — wake up and find it all 
 imaginary. With the Greeks, the dehght in malignancy, 
 otherwise named the fascination of suffering, was less modi- 
 fied by humane sympathies than with the moderns. 
 
 Southey's ' Mary the Maid of the Inn ' is unredeemed 
 horror. By her lover's crimes she was driven to the state 
 described in the first stanza : — 
 
 Who is yonder poor maniac, whose wildly-fix'd eyes 
 
 Seem a heart overcharged to express ? 
 She weeps not, yet often and deeply she sighs : 
 She never complains — but her silence implies 
 The composure of settled distress. 
 
 11
 
 226 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Keats's ' Isabella,' a horrible story from Boccaccio, is 
 barely redeemed by the beautiful afi'ection of Isabella. It 
 is, however, one of those cases of love tragedy that allow of 
 an exaggerated picture of affection without seeming over- 
 sentimental. At the same time, we demand a very highly- 
 wrought ideal, in order to compensate for the misery of the 
 termination. 
 
 Such incidents happen in real life. The narration of 
 them, unless redeemed by extraordinary genius in the treat- 
 ment, transgresses the legitimate bounds that divide pathos 
 from horror. 
 
 Tennyson's 'Coming of Arthur' is prefaced by a delinea- 
 tion of the previous condition of the kingdom. For the 
 redemption of the horrors, the narrative of Arthur's bene- 
 ficent improvements is barely sufficient : — 
 
 And thus the land of Cameliard was waste, 
 Thick with wet woods, and many a beast therein, 
 And none or few to scare or chase the beast ; 
 So that wild dog, and wolf and boar and bear 
 Came night and day, and rooted in the fields, 
 And wallow'd in the gardens of the King. 
 And ever and anon the wolf would steal 
 The children and devour, but now and then. 
 Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teat 
 To human sucklings ; and the children, housed 
 In her foul den, there at their meat would growl, 
 And mock their foster-mother on four feet. 
 Till, straighten'd, they grew up to wolf-like men, 
 Worse than the wolves. 
 
 Strength for Pathos. 
 
 When a pathetic effect is aimed at, care must be taken 
 that Strength is not substituted for it. 
 
 This may happen in several ways. For example, sorrow 
 may be expressed in the passionate forms of anger or hatred, 
 which produce the effects of Strength instead of Tender 
 Feeling. Or a scene intended to be pathetic may have its 
 grander aspects enlarged upon, so that the impression of 
 these may be what chiefly remains. Or, again, the conduct 
 of a sufferer may be so painted that we rather admire 
 his moral elevation than sympathize with his sufferings. 
 
 It is a matter of fact that our greatest geniuses are more 
 successful in Strength than in Feeling. This is shown in 
 setting forth the higher degrees of the love emotion ; the
 
 Shakespeare's pathos running into strength. 227 
 
 figures chosen being figures of intensity that satisfy the 
 intellect without touching the heart. The remark applies 
 in a pre-eminent degree to Shakespeare. His love hyper- 
 boles are calculated purely for intensity of degree ; they 
 are apt to be incompatible with tender feeling. When 
 Cleopatra says of Antony, ' His face was as the heavens,' 
 she makes us look upon him with admiration and astonish- 
 ment, and on herself as worked up to a pitch of frenzy, but 
 neither effect is of the nature of love. 
 
 Macbeth's splendid outburst of dubitation before the 
 murder, has touches of the highest pathos ; yet with lapses 
 into imagery of pure strength, which only the genius of the 
 pathetic figui'es can render otherwise than discordant : — 
 
 Besides, this Duncan 
 Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
 So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
 Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongu'd, against 
 The deep damnation of his taking-off ; 
 And pity, like a naked new-born babe. 
 Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd 
 Upon the sightless couriers of the air. 
 Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
 That tears shall drown the wind. 
 
 The first lines anticipate a burst of moral indignation for the 
 criminality of the deed ; the amiability and nobleness of 
 Duncan being tributary to the effect. It is a pure 
 stroke of Shakespearean strength. The pathos lies in the 
 second part, which begins with a touching figure of tender- 
 ness, ' a naked new-born babe ' ; but the adjunct, ' striding 
 the blast,' does not carry out the figure, but invests the 
 helpless object with an unnatural exercise of power. The 
 same applies to 'heaven's cherubin,' which are objects of 
 the child-like type, but with a certain maturity qualifying 
 them for active functions ; so that they are not improperly 
 horsed on the couriers of the air. Yet the energy of the 
 concluding lines is too much for a tender personation. 
 
 PEOMISCUOUS PASSAGES. 
 
 Few pieces will show better on a minute examination, or prove 
 more illustrative, than Coleridge's poem called ' Love '. 
 
 All thoughts, aU passions, all delights, 
 
 Whatever stirs this mortal frame, 
 All are but ministers of Love, 
 
 And feed his sacred flame.
 
 228 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Intensity of expression ; yet the two first lines have little of the 
 love harmony in them : ' thoughts ' least, ' deUghts ' most. The 
 next lines are in full keeping : — 
 
 Oft in my waking dreams do I 
 Live o'er again t]iat happy hour, 
 When midway on the mount I lay, 
 Beside the ruin'd tower. 
 
 The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, 
 Had hlended with the lights of eve ; 
 And she was there, my hope, my joy. 
 My own dear Genevieve ! 
 
 The whole situation is dehcately and suitably chosen for romance ; 
 — ' the rum'd tower ' ; ' the moonshine blended with the lights of 
 eve ' ; while both circumstances are maintamed in our view by 
 brief allusions in the succeeding stanzas. The two concluding 
 lines ai'e simphcity itself, yet, the words being chosen at once for 
 emotional keepmg and for melody, they are all that we can wish. 
 
 She iean'd against the armed man, 
 
 The statue of the armed knight ; 
 
 She stood and listened to my lay, 
 Amid the lingering light. 
 The position is expressive and readily conceived. "We are to have 
 a tale of a bold and lovely knight ; and the statue is a material 
 support to fancy. The ' lingermg hght ' continues the previous 
 allusion. 
 
 Few sorrows hath she of her own. 
 
 My hope, my joy, my Genevieve ! 
 
 She loves me best whene'er I sing 
 The songs that make her grieve. 
 
 A matter of fact converted into rich pathos. The poet's invention 
 has brought forth a choice delicacy of love sentiment ; such happy 
 strokes are the surest antidote to maudlin. It is an actual truth 
 that the fresh imworn mind can bear with the depths of grief, 
 without passing the limit where pity turns to pain. 
 
 I played a soft and doleful air, 
 
 I sang an old and moving story — 
 
 An old rude song, tliat suited well 
 That ruin wild and hoai-y. 
 The pathetic and the antique here support each other, as it is 
 tl'.eir nature to do. All the terms are choice, and breathe the 
 odoiu: of tenderness. 
 
 She listened with a fitting blush, 
 
 AVitli downcast e3-es and modest grace; 
 
 For well she knew, I could not choose 
 But gaze upon her face. 
 
 The point of this is the delicate imiuendo of self-consciousness on
 
 Coleridge's ' genevieve '. 229 
 
 # 
 the part of the peerless beauty, an allowance that qualifies the 
 ideal jiicture of loveliness, without spoiling it as an ideal. This 
 too is a remedy agamst maudlin. The skilled novelist knows to m- 
 troduce touches of human weakness into the most perfect characters. 
 The remainder of the poem consists of the tale of the noble and 
 chivalrous knight, and the effect of all its windings upon Genevieve, 
 enduig in a complete conquest of her affections. The design is ori- 
 ginal, and the working out has the like grace and finish of language ; 
 never a word out of keeping, and the melody always of the richest. 
 The stanzas commented upon sufficiently represent the whole. 
 
 Keats's ' Eve of St. Agnes ' is made much of by Leigh Hunt, 
 bat scarcely bears the weight of his eulogy. It is a romantic tale 
 of love and successful adventure ; the merit consisting in the 
 imagery and pictorial circumstances ; very origmal and quaint, 
 sometimes harmonious, sometimes heart-touching, but not by any 
 means equal ; it cannot be compared with Coleridge's ' liOve '. 
 
 Although the minute exammation of the poem appeals oftener 
 to individual feeling than to reasoned criticism, yet there is scope 
 for both, as well as for copious illustration of poetic effects. 
 
 The first stanza is a pictorial grouping to express chillness. 
 Being painful, the poetry must be exquisitely harmonious, and must 
 not simply add to the depression. The efi'ect to be realized may 
 possibly be a re-action, or cheering contrast, which, however, is 
 barely attained. 
 
 The poor old beadsman is pathetic in the ordinary sense ; he 
 inspires our pity, but his age makes it lighter. The circumstances 
 invented to project his feeling of chillness are ctu-ious and suited 
 to the scene, but not inspiring. 
 
 The sculptured dead on each side seem to freeze — 
 
 is not an enchanting or felicitous thought ; it carries the enlivenmg 
 of the dead too far. Only a bold imagination, with unusual motive, 
 would go the length of brmging human einotion out of stone 
 figures ; we could sooner draw it out of trees and flowers, which 
 have a hving interest to begin with. 
 
 Emprison'd in black piurgatorial rails — 
 
 is equally forced, and equally unable to quicken emotion in an 
 ordinary mind. It is gloomy enough, but not an inspiring gloom ; 
 heavy, stony, stiff. Not like Shakespeare's ' thrilling ice '. 
 
 — and his weak spirit fails 
 To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. 
 
 The poet produces a depression that he does not intend, if he pro- 
 duces any effect at all ; we may refuse to undergo the labour of 
 imagination, for so little of the reward. 
 
 Hunt admires the lines in Stanza III. : — 
 
 — Music's golden tongue 
 Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
 
 230 FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 The epithet ' golden ' may operate as a compliment, but it does 
 not fuse with the notion of music ; the disparity of the senses 
 stops the way. The word ' flatter'd ' is supposed to express with 
 fehcity the &-tin-ing and elevating effect of the music, although 
 combined with tears, which might be joyful ; but the interpreta- 
 tion is very roundabout. It is not obviously suited to all minds, 
 although it has an assignable connexion. 
 
 At the end of Stanza IV., there is a further attempt to give life 
 to the sculptured figures : — 
 
 The carved angels, ever eager-eyed, 
 
 Stared, where upon thek heads the cornice rests, 
 
 With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts. 
 This is a smaller flight. It is one of those attempts to picture 
 with vividness, by animated phraseology-, the sculptured expression, 
 without giving the stony figures emotion. Enough, if it be sug- 
 gestive of the fact, and also calculated to increase the admiration 
 of the artist. It is the calling up of what does not strike the com- 
 mon eye; and v.hat we are pleased to find discovered. From 
 Stanza VI. we quote — 
 
 They told her how, upon St. Agnes' eve. 
 Young virgins might have visions of delight ; 
 And soft adorings from their loves receive 
 Upon the honey'd middle of the night. 
 
 The combination ' soft adorings ' is in full keepmg , ' the Jiovnfd 
 middle of the night,' is one of Keats's daring contiguities. It is 
 original, and not unsuitable ; yet we must not press the meaning 
 of honey too far, or it will fail us. 
 Stanza VII : — 
 
 Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline : 
 The music, yearning like a god in pain. 
 She scarcely heard : her maiden eyes divine 
 Fix'd on the floor, — 
 
 The 'yearning' of the music 'like a god in pain' is an original 
 and striking description of an effect clmracteristic of the highest 
 music-emotion, massive and vague, and seeming to strive after 
 more definite expression. The ' maiden eyes divine ' is a felicitous 
 conjunction, ranking with the human face divine ; much more 
 imctuous than the epithets describuig the sculptured figiires. 
 
 Stanza X. A powerful description of the blood-thirsty 
 tenants of the place. 
 
 Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, 
 "Whose very dogs would execrations howl 
 Against his lineage. 
 
 Then comes the picture of the poor old woman — 
 
 Save one old beldame, weali in body and in soul.
 
 KEATS'S ' EVE OF ST. AGNES '. 231 
 
 She guides Porphyro till — 
 
 He found him in a little moonlit room, 
 Pale, latticed, chill, and silent as a tomb. 
 
 The groupinp; here is intended both to give a picture and to imbue 
 it with the feelings of cold and loneliness. For the picture, the 
 helps are 'little,' 'latticed,' 'moonlit,' and 'pale' — size, form, 
 and illumination ; by no means an effective grouping, especially in 
 the arrangement given. The comparison, ' silent as a tomb,' is 
 apt and powerful, in spite of commonness. 
 
 Stanza XV. Of the old woman it is said — 
 
 Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon — 
 
 a, harmonizing conjunction between the weakness of the old creature 
 and the scenic embodiment. The force of the combination eludes 
 analysis ; it aims at being poetical, but may possibly be lost upon 
 the mass of readers. 
 Stanza XXI. : — 
 
 Safe at last. 
 Through many a dusky gallery, they gain 
 The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd and chaste — 
 
 intended to be suggestive, both of a picture and of the purity of 
 Madeline ; and to a certain limited extent answers the end. 
 
 The poet's genius is, however, reserved for the sleeping case- 
 ment and the maiden herself. Stanza XXIV. gives an elaborate 
 picture, which admits of being examined for the laws of descrip- 
 tion, while the emotional keeping is one of Keats's successes in 
 the art. 
 
 In Stanza XXV. Madeline is seen at her devotions : — 
 
 As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon ; 
 Eose-bloom fell on her hands together prest. 
 And on her silver cross soft amethyst. 
 And on her hair a glory, like a saint : 
 She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest, 
 Save wings, for heaven. 
 
 There is little attempt at giving a picture, but the images are all 
 emotionally suitable to a pure and saintly beauty. 
 In Stanza XXVI. :— 
 
 Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one ; 
 
 Loosens her fragrant boddiee ; by degrees 
 
 Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees ; 
 
 Half hidden, like a mermaid in seaweed. 
 
 The poet here wakens our different senses with his suggestive 
 imagery — warmth, fragrance, rustling soimd ; and goes far to dis- 
 close to us a beautiful naked figmre, made more unpressive by 
 active and partial concealment. 
 
 The greatest effect remaming is in Stanza XXXVI., where the 
 emotion of Porphyro, on being addressed m earnest love tones by
 
 232 FEELING EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Madeline, is described by the highest intensity of subjective 
 language, aided by objective settings. 
 
 As a narrative and descriptive poem, there is a defect of set- 
 ting in the siuToundmg scene. 
 
 Time past lends itself to Pathos in variotis ways. To recall 
 the fortvuies of those that have passed away may awaken a pathetic 
 interest, as well as the admiration of greatness and the detestation 
 of tyrants and oppressors. Horace Smith's ' Mummy ' is an. attempt 
 to imagine Egyptian hfe and history, through the survival of one 
 human frame. A short example of the same kuid is seen in Keats's 
 'Nightingiile' : — 
 
 The voice I hear this passing night was heard 
 
 In ancient days by emperor and clown : 
 Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 
 
 Through the sad heart of Kuth, when, sick for home, 
 She stood in tears amid the alien corn. 
 This bold de\ace is not always successful ; it must come as a sur- 
 prise, and have more than usual appropriateness. 
 
 The examples may be fittingly closed with Matthew Arnold's 
 little Ode — liequiescat. The pathos of Death, as deliverance from 
 trouble and life-weai'iness, is enhanced by the tine touches of 
 character ; the writer's own sympathies concurring. 
 
 Strew on her roses, roses, 
 
 And never a spray of yew I 
 In quiet she reposes ; 
 
 Ah ! would that I did too. 
 
 Her mirth the world requu-ed ; 
 
 She bathed it m smiles of glee. 
 But her heart was tired, tired, 
 
 And now they let her be. 
 
 Her life was turning, turning, 
 
 In mazes of heat and sound ; 
 But for peace her soul was yearning, 
 
 And now peace laps her roimd. 
 
 Her cabin'd, ample spirit, 
 
 It fluttered and failed for breath ; 
 
 To-night it doth inherit 
 The vasty htiU of death. 
 
 • The vasty hall of death ' suggests the remark that the poetry 
 of death has passed from the pathos of pure negation, as in Job — • 
 ' Ye shall seek me in tlie morning, but I shall not be ' — to the 
 imagination of something positive, however vague.
 
 VITUPERATION.— THE LUDICEOUS. 
 
 There is a large department of Literature marked 
 out by the terms — Comic, Ludicrous, Humour, Wit. 
 The effects thus designated admit of critical adjustment. 
 
 It is known that Greek Comedy had its rise in the jeering and 
 vituperation exchanged during the processions in honour of the god 
 Dionysus, or Bacchus. At first, tliis was simply the pleasure of coarse 
 malignity. When, however, the regular comedy was matured, there 
 was still ■vituperation and ridicule, but accompanied with literary 
 skill and refinement— in consequence of which, the interest survived to 
 after ages. The milder forms of Ridicule, such as we now term the 
 Ludicrous and Humour, were cultivated along with those severer out- 
 bursts, whereby Comedy was rendered a weapon of denunciation in the 
 conflicts of political parties. But even the mildest forms could not 
 dispense with vilifying, degrading or otherwise maltreating persons, 
 institutions and other objects commanding veneration or respect. 
 
 This brings us round once more to the seemingly in- 
 exhaustible pleasure of Malignity, already referred to as 
 prominent in the Quality of Stkength (p. 64). There is a 
 gradual shading, from the effects described under Strength 
 to the present class ; the extremes being sufficiently well- 
 marked. From the Sublime to the Ridiculous is a consider- 
 able step : yet, if we start from the malignant Sublime, the 
 descent is natural and easy. Without some infusion of 
 malignancy, the Comic would lose its force, Humour its 
 unction. 
 
 VITUPERATION. 
 
 1. In approaching the Comic, the Ridiculous, the 
 Ludicrous, we may halt at the kindred effect, named 
 Vituperation. 
 
 To vituperate, abuse, vilify, denounce, calumniate, 
 satirize, — is so far a distinct operation; it may or may not 
 be accompanied by the ludicrous, although at all times in 
 near alliance with that quality. Every language possesses
 
 234 VITUPEEATION. 
 
 a vocabulary suited to the purpose. There is a gross form, 
 consisting of the unstinted employment of vilifying epithets ; 
 and a more refined method, by which it is possible either 
 to increase the severity, or to reconcile it better with our 
 sympathies. 
 
 Artistic vituperation, like other emotional excellence, 
 needs, besides a large command of the vocabulary of abuse, 
 original combinations and illustrations ; the figures of 
 epigram, innuendo and irony ; rhythm of language, and 
 the intellectual arts of style — simplicity, clearness and 
 impressiveness. 
 
 In Dramatic Dialogue, and in the verbal encounters pre- 
 paratory to life-and-death struggles in poetry and romance, 
 may be found exemplified the highest arts of vituperative 
 eloquence. 
 
 Vituperation enters especially into Oratory, as a means 
 of gaining conviction. Nearly all great orators afford 
 examples of invective. Demosthenes and Cicero have been 
 censured for the occasional violence and coarseness of their 
 abuse of opponents ; in other words, it was too little veiled 
 and redeemed by the arts and graces of style. 
 
 The management of invective with a view to effect is 
 exemplified both in ancient and in modern literature, 
 whether as oratory or as poetry. 
 
 The speeches of Achilles in the first Iliad axe. powerful 
 and stinging invective, and yet not coarse, if we consider the 
 intensity of the hero's rage. He denounced Agamemnon 
 for cowardice, as w^ell as injustice and robbery. The 
 language is dignified as well as strong : hearers in after 
 times would regard it as thoroughly deserved, and con- 
 sequently would enjoy its severity to the full. The 
 innuendo of the lines — 
 
 So much 'tis safer through the camp to go, 
 And rob a subject, than despoil a foe — 
 
 is a tremendous sarcasm. The threat that he utters is also 
 dignified although plainly stated, and is redeemed by an 
 appeal to the gods, to wdiom he professes submission. 
 
 In Jaliu-i Cwmr (V. 1.), where Shakespeai-e brings to- 
 gether Antony and Octavius on one side and Brutus and 
 Cassius on the other for a battle of words before Philippi, 
 the dramatic and narrative elements of verbal encounter 
 before the real fight are combined. To Brutus' colourless 
 query ' Words before blows : is it so, countrymen? ' comes
 
 SPECIAL CONDITIONS, POSITIVE AND NEGATIVE. 235 
 
 Octavius' sudden outbreak — ' Not that we love words better, 
 as you do ' ; and then for thirty Hnes retort begets retort, 
 each intended to give as much pain as possible. At points 
 they break into set abuse : — 
 
 Villains, you did not so, when your vile daggers 
 
 Hacked one another in the sides of Caesar : 
 
 You showed your teeths like apes, and fa%vned like hounds, 
 
 And bowed like bondmen, kissing Cwsar's feet ; 
 
 Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind 
 
 Strook Csesar on the neck. O you flatterers ! 
 
 Previously had come a retort of more refined execution ; 
 the innuendo by praise for the opposite being effective 
 vituperation : — 
 
 Antony, 
 The posture of your blows are yet unknown ; 
 But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees, 
 And leave them honeyless. 
 
 2. The more special conditions of Vituperation are 
 analogous to those for Strength and Feeling — (1) De- 
 lineation of the Object, (2) Harmonious surroundings, 
 (3) Subjective description. 
 
 These three arts are universal in attempting to inspire 
 feeling in connexion with any given object. The object 
 itself must be so described as to affect us emotionally in the 
 way that is intended ; while, by selected adjuncts or accom- 
 paniments, the effect is still further heightened. Last of all, 
 the speaker's own feelings, and those of concurring parties, 
 must be made to tell i;pon the minds of the hearers. 
 
 It will be seen, in connexion with the Ludicrous, how 
 the second condition — harmonizing adjuncts — can be made 
 a ruling circumstance in producing the desired effect, 
 
 3. The negative condition of restraint and refine- 
 ment, essential to the malign emotions generally, is 
 here particularly called for. 
 
 The instrument of malignity being, not blows but words, 
 its regulation is purely a matter of verbal adjustment. 
 
 4. Plausibility must be carefully attended to, when 
 denunciation is unusually strong. 
 
 As we have to be, in part at least, satisfied with the 
 justice of the incrimination, our misgivings must be kept 
 down by a plausible rendering. In a weak case, there is 
 required all the greater skill in the management.
 
 236 KIDICULE. — HUMOUR. 
 
 EIDICULE. 
 Bidicule is vituperation accompanied with Derision. 
 
 To be ourselves laughed at, or derided, is a severe in- 
 fliction. Hence to laugh at, or deride, another person gives 
 us a feast of malignity. 
 
 Vituperation passes into Eidicule when it fastens upon 
 conduct allied with weakness, indignity, insignificance or 
 contempt. An unusually mischievous character, possessed 
 of power, may be the object of vituperation and opprobrium, 
 but uot necessarily of ridicule. We may occasionally com- 
 bine the two, by seizing the weak points of a character in 
 other respects powerful. 
 
 The Arts of Eidicule, therefore, consist in finding out all 
 the circumstances that can insinuate weakness, or attach 
 indignity and disesteem. To make one out a fool ; to 
 suggest bodily feebleness, inefficiency or ugliness ; to 
 humble pride in any way, — are means to provoke derision 
 or ridicule. Nevertheless, we have still to take precautions 
 against possible failure, as will be seen from the examples.* 
 
 HUMOUE. 
 
 1. There is a kind of Laughter that enters into the 
 innocent pleasures of mankind. It still grows out of 
 the delight in malignity ; which, however, is softened 
 and redeemed in a variety of ways. 
 
 Although every instance of the Ludicrous may not be 
 obviously connected with malignant pleasure, the great 
 majority of cases will be seen to involve it. But while 
 vituperation and ridicule aim at severe and humiliating 
 inflictions, the Ludicrous can flourish on less painful, or 
 even trivial, discomfitures and disasters. There is a well- 
 marked difference between ridicule and raillery ; yet a 
 difference, not in kind, but in degree. Nothing can better 
 attest the reality and depth of our malignant pleasures than 
 the delight obtained from causing or witnessing even the 
 most trifling annoyances. 
 
 2. While Laughter is a marked accompaniment of 
 
 ' While the substantive ' Ridicule' is expressive of a severe form of vitupera- 
 tion, the adjective ' ridiculous ' is much milder in its application ; being very little 
 Htronger than the ludicrous or the laughable.
 
 CAUSES OF LAtTGHTEE. 237 
 
 pleasure generally, it is most identified with certain 
 special modes of pleasure. 
 
 As Laughter is common to Ridicule and Humom-, its caiises 
 and occasions may be here reviewed : these being wider in their 
 sweep than the effects special to our present topic of discussion. 
 
 (1) It is an accompaniment of mere exuberant spirits, without 
 any more special motive than abundance of nei'vovis energy. 
 
 (2) A sudden burst of good fortune or success, no matter what 
 or how, being productive of general elation of mind, will express 
 itself in laughter among other joyful indications. 
 
 (3) Sudden re-action from constramt is a cause of the same 
 general elation of mental tone, with its gleeful accompaniments. 
 This enters into the Ludicrous, when levity is confronted with 
 seriousness, gravity or solemnity. 
 
 (4) Victory in a conflict is a more specific occasion of laughter 
 than any of the foregoing. Hence its tendency to accompany 
 malign emotion in general. Vituperation, when successful as a 
 fighting weapon, will occasion the laugh of victory. This passes 
 into the laugh of Derision, wherein power, superiority or triiimph 
 of some sort is implicated. 
 
 (5) The laugh of self-complacency is well known ; it is related 
 more or less closely to the foregomg varieties. 
 
 (6) There is a laugh of kindliness and benevolence, which con- 
 nects the state with our affectionate side, when we are in a hajapy 
 frame, and able to bestow happiness. 
 
 The Ludicrous means laughing at some person or thing, thus 
 excluding such occasions of laughter as animal spirits generally, 
 and the smile of kmdly affection. It points more particulai'ly to 
 Victory, Malignity and Power, as the examples will show. 
 
 In witnessing the infliction of pain or suffering, we are 
 moved in opposite ways. On the one hand, we may be sym- 
 pathetically affected, so as to make the pain our own ; on the 
 other hand, we may restrain sympathy and allow free scope to 
 our malignant satisfaction. It is the mutual accommodation of 
 these two opposing tendencies that determines the scope afforded 
 to our enjoyment of the ludicrous. Some pains affect our sym- 
 pathies exclusively : such are the severer modes of inflictions and 
 calamity. Among savages, a drowning man's struggles will be 
 viewed with exultant laughter; while the enlargement of the sphere 
 of sympathy is a characteristic of human progress. The admissible 
 range of the Ludicrous is adapted to the standard of fellow-feeling 
 prevalent among oinrselves ; so that, in s\irveying the literature of 
 past times, we have to make due allowance for the varying range 
 of sympathies prevailing in different ages and countries. 
 
 The following is a brief summary of the chief occasions of our 
 enjoyment of the Ludicrous in actual life. 
 
 A very large department is expressed by the spectacle of
 
 238 HUMOUE, 
 
 weakness, impotence, failure, miscarriage, stumbling, being 
 thwarted ; the circumstances being such as not to bring sympathy 
 into play. 
 
 Being beaten in a conflict ; being checked in anything we have 
 undertaken ; committing some gi-oss eiTor in a public display ; 
 bhmders, inaccuracies and awkwai'dness of speech ; being put about 
 by trifles ; making great exertions for small results ; being chaffed 
 and jeered at ; being shghtly intoxicated ; bemg defied by oiu: 
 iniei-iors; — these, and such like, expose us to the laughter of by- 
 standers, the mtliction not being severe enough to rouse either our 
 sympathy or some of the strong emotions, as anger or fear. 
 
 Weakness in all forms, not of a kind to rouse sympathy, may 
 excite laughter. When the love-passion becomes uncontrollable 
 and extreme, as a temporary fi-enzy, it is apt to be laughed at. If 
 it can maintain itself in permanence, it is admired. 
 
 Of all forms of weakness. Folly in some shape is the kind most 
 miiversally adopted into Comedy. The ways that a man may 
 nialie a fool of himself are countless ; and comic characters have 
 been drawn on tliis type in every age. One favourite mode is the 
 solemn assertion of common-places, as in Don Quixote. Another 
 mode is extreme seriousness in trifles, as Lamb's ' Sarah Battle '. 
 
 It is an aggravation when weakness, or failure, has been 
 accompanied with assumption, boasting, self-conceit, coxcombry; 
 the suspension of sympathy being then most complete. To throw 
 down or humiliate a swaggerer is always an unqualified pleasmre. 
 When weakness is accompanied with modesty, hurmlity or unpre- 
 tentiousness, the sting is effectually drawn. 
 
 It is only giving one single aspect, vmder the present head, to 
 mention the wide-spread influence of Loss of Dignity, or Degrada- 
 tion in esteem or importance. We refrain, in ordinary circum- 
 stances, from rejoicing over injury to person or estate, but we do nob 
 maintain the same sympathetic regard for people's conventional 
 dignity in the eyes of the world. We are naturally jealous of any 
 superiority in tliis respect, and when something happens to puU 
 down any one from the pmnacle of a superior position, we are apt 
 to indulge ourselves in a burst of malicious gratification, and to 
 signify it by the laugh. 
 
 The most expressive indication of weakness is fright ; and 
 hence the pleasure that we are apt to take in seeing any one suddenly 
 terrified, there being no serious mischief in tlie case. Cowai'dice 
 and timidity inspire either contempt or ridicule ; and cowards are 
 largely emi)loyed as material for tlie ludicrous. 
 
 Tliere may be an equally gratifying proof of weakness in being 
 thrown into a fit of grief, or made angi-y. This is one of the 
 gratifications of teasing. 
 
 Hypocrisy receives its punishment by ridicule and laughter. 
 Sanctimonious hypocrites are especially the butts of comedy. 
 
 A favourite variety of ludici'ous degradation is the contact with 
 filth or pollution, and the production of malodoiurs; enough to
 
 THE LUDICEOUS IN LITEBAEY COMPOSITION. 239 
 
 cause annoyance without serious injury. To bum assafcetida in a 
 room is considered a good practical joke. The pain is acute but 
 temporary, and free from bad consequences. 
 
 The pleasui'e of causing or witnessing degradation extends to 
 the estabhshed government, rehgion, and the sanctities and 
 decencies of hfe. Hence vilification and profanation of the solemn 
 and sacred rites of society may become causes of ludicrous plea- 
 sure. As, however, the respecters of law and religion are offended 
 by such liberties, they are chiefly taken with creeds and ritual that 
 are losing their hold of mankind ; as in Lucian's severe ridicule of 
 the pagan gods. 
 
 3. The Ludicrous or Humour, as a form of literary- 
 composition, must work on the same hues, and take 
 up the same occasions, as in the actual ; but with the 
 advantage of an unlimited scope in imagining con- 
 junctions suited to the effect ; while the essence of the 
 art lies in the mollifying ingredients that appease the 
 sympathies without marring the dehght. 
 
 The means to this end are various : — 
 
 (1) As already implied, the Ludicrous in the form of 
 Humour fastens on the slighter forms of giving pain. 
 There is in consequence an unavoidable diminution of 
 malignant pleasure ; this, however, may be more than made 
 up in the abeyance of sympathy, which permits the full 
 swing of such enjoyment as the occasion supplies. 
 
 (2) In ludicrous degi'adation, we may aim at points of 
 character that persons do not pride themselves upon, or 
 else upon w^hat cannot be seriously assailed. 
 
 We may laugh at the slovenliness in dress of one that is 
 indiiferent to appearance. 
 
 Macaulay shows his good humour in quoting a descrip- 
 tion of himself from Blackwood — ' A little, splay-footed, ugly 
 dumpling of a fellow,' and then remarking — ' Conceive how 
 such a charge must affect a man so enamoured of his beauty 
 as I am'. 
 
 Likewise, it is mere innocent raillery to pretend that a 
 millionaire cannot afford indulgence and hospitality. Tlie 
 force of the jest would lie in an innuendo of stinginess. 
 
 (3) To make a person utter jests at his own expense 
 is the most humorous of any. This dispenses with all 
 sympathy, through the voluntary self-surrender of the party 
 himself. This is the humour of the fools of Comedy. 
 
 To constitute a genial and good-humoured company, it
 
 240 HUMOUB. 
 
 is essential that each, in his turn, should submit to be 
 laughed at. 
 
 Sydney Smith's remark to the Chapter of St. Paul's, on 
 the proposal to lay a wooden pavement round the building, — 
 ' if we lay oar heads together, the thing is done,' — was witty 
 and humorous. If any one outside had said, — ' if you lay 
 you7- heads together,' — it would have waiated the humour. 
 Thackeray's ' Snobs of England ' is said to be hi/ one of them- 
 selves. At the time when the theories of the origin of 
 language were hotly debated in the Philological Society, one 
 of the members remarked, ' Every one of us thmks all the 
 rest mad' ; the view taken, at Shakespeare's dictation, of 
 the English generally, by the gravedigger in Hamlet. 
 
 (4) The degradation may be made the occasion of a 
 compliment. A man is often raised into importance by 
 being publicly caricatured. It is possible to pass off, by 
 the seasoning of a little jocularity, an amount of adulation 
 that would otherwise make the object of it uncomfortable. 
 (For examples, see Wit.) 
 
 (5) One great softening application is the mixture of 
 tender and kindly feeling with the ludicrous effect. This is 
 a recognized distinction between humourists in the best 
 sense, as Chaucer, Shakespeare, Addison, Burns, Scott, 
 Eichter, and those that have little or no redeeming tender- 
 ness, as Swift, Pope, and Voltaire. Hence, the frequent 
 remark that the same writer excels at once in pathos and 
 in humour. There is humour in Froissart's saying — ' The 
 Saxons take their pleasures sadly, after their fashion '. 
 This brings out a touch of pity to temper the somewhat 
 ridiculous picture. 
 
 (6) High poetic originality or beauty is accepted as 
 redeeming the severity of derisive laughter. This is the 
 one great justification of Aristophanes. Whence it is, that 
 malignity, in every form, — whether vituperation, ridicule 
 or humour — is rendered tolerable and acceptable by the 
 genius of style, when nothing else would quiet our com- 
 punctions of pity for the victim. We shall have to advert 
 more fully to the connexion with Wit, which has import- 
 ance enough to be treated apart. 
 
 (7) The ludicrous may be the accompaniment of dis- 
 quisitions on matters of knowledge or instruction, as in the 
 political articles of Sydney Smith. 
 
 (8) There remains a large sphere of unchecked malignant
 
 MALIGNITY SOFTENED INTO HUMOUB. 241 
 
 gi'atification. Much of the enjoyment of mankind arises 
 from victimizing, in idea, the absent, the dead, and the 
 imaginary. Doubtless the satisfaction would be still gi-eater 
 to see the sufferers writhing under the infhction : but this 
 has its drawbacks, in consequence of our possessing a tender 
 and sympathetic as well as a malevolent side. We accept 
 a smaller pleasure that is free from compunctions, in pre- 
 ference to a greater that cai-ries a sting with it. 
 
 Historical literature and fiction have multiplied, and 
 are still multiplying, comic pictures without end. Every 
 new instance possessing the attributes essential to the 
 Emotional Qualities in general, and to the quality of 
 Humour in particular, is an addition to our pleasures. At 
 the same time, thex'e is a growing stringency in the negative 
 conditions of the (X)mic art, especially as regards vitupera- 
 tion and ridicule. Not only must our sympathies with 
 actual persons be taken into account ; even the ideal indul- 
 gence in malignity and horror is considered as unduly 
 strengthening what is already too strong by nature. 
 
 (9) Strange to say, the malignant sentiment can find 
 satisfaction in venting itself upon the inanimate world. The 
 young girl can make her doll the victim of her displeasure, 
 as well as the recipient of her loving caresses ; and is equally 
 gratified in both ways. Savages, disappointed in the chase 
 or the fight, find consolation in maltreating the images of 
 their gods, no less than by uncomplimentary language. 
 
 Hudibras finds an occasion for the ludicrous in the 
 
 morning dawn. The device consists in a degrading or 
 
 vulgarizing simile : — 
 
 The sun had long since, in the lap 
 Of Thetis, taken out his nap. 
 And, like a lobster boiled, the mom 
 From black to red began to turn. 
 
 At the time wdien the sun was treated as a person, a 
 great comic genius, like Aristophanes or Lucian, could 
 put his rising into a ludicrous form, but our present notions 
 of the fact resist such attempts. 
 
 Likewise — 
 
 For he, by geoinctric scale. 
 
 Could take the size of pots of alo. 
 
 People have a kind of respect for geometry, no doubt, and 
 anything that is respected may be humorously degraded, 
 but the application to pots of ale does not sufficiently hurt
 
 242 HUMOUR, 
 
 the feelings of the most susceptible geometer ; as a jest it 
 tells only against Huclibras himself. 
 
 Passing now to the classification of the literary embodi- 
 ments of the present quality, we find a number of designa- 
 tions connected with language. The Figures of Speech 
 named 'Epigram,' 'Irony,' 'Innuendo,' and 'Hyperbole,' 
 are more or less pressed into the service of the Comic art. 
 Exaggeration, even to the pitch of extravagance and ab- 
 surdity, is freely employed for the need of provoking 
 laughter ; nevertheless, without some measure of originality 
 or genius, it cannot attain the dignity of literary art. 
 
 Much stress is laid by some writers on the Anti-climax, 
 or the falling down from a high to a low degree of Dignity or 
 Strength. By the very nature of the case, this is a species 
 of humiliation or degradation, and fits in exactly with the 
 general bearing of the Ludicrous, of which it is merely one 
 exemplification. It may take the form of immense expendi- 
 ture for small result, as in the line of Horace — 
 Parturiunt monies, nascetur ridiculus mus. 
 
 4. Conspicuous among the express designations of 
 the Ludicrous are — Parody, Mock-heroic, and Bur- 
 lesque. 
 
 Common to all these is the conjunction, through lan- 
 guage, of the dignified, lofty, serious, estimable, with the 
 mean, vulgar, indecorous, indecent, filthy. 
 
 Parodij, like caricature generally, is the mimicking of 
 grand and serious composition in a vulgar or inferior sub- 
 ject. It was one of the many ways that Aristophanes 
 derided the great tragedians. Of modern examples, among 
 the best known are Philips's parody of Milton's style, and 
 the Rojeded Addrcssps, which caricatured a whole generation 
 of authors. The humour is greatly assisted by the closeness 
 of the imitation. 
 
 Jlimicry is a noted source of pleasure, of the purely malevolent 
 stamp. Something is clue to the skill of the imitation, but the chief 
 part of the effect is the humiliation of the object by a mixture of de- 
 grading touches. The mere fact that a person can be imitated by 
 another seems to prove smallness or poverty of character, implying a 
 certain degree of inferiority. The mimicry of parrots is ludicrous for 
 the same reason. 
 
 Savages can be intensely tickled by the successful mimicry of 
 their chiefs.
 
 PARODY. — MOCK-HEROIC. 243 
 
 Not far removed from the same effect is the Morlc-lieroic ; 
 which is also the treating of mean or degrading things in 
 the style of high composition, without imitating any author 
 in particular. The Burlesque has no specific difference of 
 meaning ; being interchangeable at pleasure with the two 
 other designations. 
 
 Among the frequent accompaniments of the Laughable, 
 whether as Humour or as Wit, have to be counted Oddity, Incon- 
 gruity and Irrelevance. These are sometimes treated as the 
 viltimate explanation of the quality, and as not depending for their 
 efficacy on malevolent pleasure. 
 
 Oddity is, from its nature, calculated to excite attention and 
 surprise, as being a deviation from the accustomed routine of 
 things. The surprise may be agreeable or it may be the opposite ; 
 everything depends on the mode and the circumstances. The 
 whimsical gargojles on the old cathedrals are agreeable or not 
 according to the success of the working out. As degradmg carica- 
 tui'es of humanity, they give the pleasure of malevolence ; but they 
 may also fail even in this, from feeble execution. 
 
 Incongruity is qualified in the same manner. There are 
 incongruities that give pleasiire, some that give pain, and others 
 that do neither. George Eliot speaks of a grating incongruity. 
 Sydney Smith rejects the explanation absolutely for the case of an 
 Irish buU. 
 
 " It is clear," he says, " that a bull cannot depend upon mere 
 incongruity alone ; for if a man were to say that he would ride to 
 London upon a cocked hat, or that he would cut his throat with a 
 pound of pickled salmon, this, though completely incongruous, 
 would not be to make bulls, but to talk nonsense. The stronger 
 the apparent connexion, and the more complete the real dis- 
 connexion of the ideas, the greater the surprise and the better 
 the buU." 
 
 His o\vn explanation of Humour, nevertheless, is wholly based 
 on Incongruity. He gives an example to this effect. 
 
 " As you increase the incongruity, you increase the humour ; 
 as you diminish it, you diminish the humour. If a tradesman of 
 a corpulent and respectable appearance, with habiliments some- 
 what ostentatious, were to slide down gently into the mud, and 
 dedecorate a pea-green coat, I am afraid we should all have the 
 barbarity to laugh. If his hat and wig, like treacherous servants, 
 were to desert their falling master, it certainly would not diminish 
 our propensity to laugh ; but if he were to fall into a violent 
 passion, and abuse everybody about him, nobody could possibly 
 resist the mcongruity of a pea-green tradesman, very respectable, 
 sitting in the mud, and threatening all the passers-by with the 
 effects of his wrath. Here every incident heightens the humour 
 of the scene : — the gaiety of his tunic, the general respectability of 
 his appearance, the rills of muddy water which trickle down his
 
 214 HUMOUR. 
 
 cheeks, and the harmless violence of his rage ! Bnt if, instead of 
 this, we were to observe a dustman falling into the mud, it would 
 hardly attract any attention, because the opposition of ideas is so 
 trifling, and the incongi*uity so slight." 
 
 The inequality of our malignant pleasure in the two cases is 
 the real cause of the difference. The ostentatiously di-essed trades- 
 man is humiliated at every tm-n; his rage being a further con- 
 firmation of his suffering. The dustman is making no pretensions, 
 he has nothing to lose ; for him we are more ready to feel sym- 
 pathy than to laugh. 
 
 Irrelevance has an agreeable effect, either as exposing some 
 one's imbecility and weaJiness, or as an ingenious surprise of the 
 natm-e of wit. Seeming irrelevance is recognized as one of tlie 
 varieties of Epignun, and needs a stroke of invention or ingenuity 
 to produce it. The irrelevance of a confused mind may be made 
 to enter into comedy ; or it may be piirely insipid and repugnant. 
 
 The same remarks apply to the Nonsensical generally. In 
 itself, this has no positive value, but the contrary. By dexterity 
 of management it may produce any, or all, of the effects that are 
 now imder discussion. The criterion of its aptness is the result. 
 
 5. The conditions of the Ludicrous and Humour as 
 an excellence of composition are implied in the fore- 
 going explanations. They may be further elucidated 
 by a review of the modes of failure or miscarriage. 
 
 (1) Insipidity, either from want of importance in tlae ob- 
 ject or from commonplace repetition. 
 
 So intense is the enjoyment of ludicrous depreciation, 
 that a very small amount of either dignity in the object, 
 or originality in the form, will afford gratification in every- 
 day life ; the higher demands appertain to works of con- 
 siderable literary pretensions. 
 
 (2) Coarseness, indelicacy, filth or indecorum. This is 
 an offence against the taste of the age, and is differently 
 viewed at different times. 
 
 It is needless to I'efer to the extreme instances of coarse- 
 ness, either in ancient or in modem writings. The taste of 
 the present day may be measured by cases that are close on 
 the verge of admissibility. 
 
 Coarseness was the reproach of the old Dramatists. 
 The Dunciad of Pope is disfigured by coarseness no less 
 than by malignity. Swift, in his paper for preventing 
 the cliildren of poor people in Ireland from being a burden 
 to them, coolly develops a proposal of cannibalism, which 
 he supports through all its circumstantials with the utmost
 
 FAILURES. 245 
 
 gravity. He had, he says, consulted an American friend, 
 who told him ' that a young healthy child well nursed is, at 
 a year old, a most delicious, nourishing and wholesome 
 food, whether stewed, roasted, baked or boiled '. Where- 
 upon he recommends the practice of rearing babies for the 
 market ; setting forth in minute detail the economical and 
 other advantages and disposing of objections on the score 
 of diminished population. Nevertheless, he is not so 
 violently bent upon his own opinion as to i^eject any 
 other proposed by wise men, which shall be equally 
 innocent, cheap, easy and effectual. He adds, in conclu- 
 sion, that he has no personal interest to serve, seeing that 
 his youngest child is nine years old, and his wife past 
 child-bearing. 
 
 It is possible to treat all this as humour, knowing that 
 it has an underlying object in calling attention to Irish 
 misery, and in satirizing the usual unfeeling ways of looking 
 at it. Yet there is some difficulty in not being shocked 
 aiid repelled by the mere imagination of reducing human 
 beings to the level of animals for food. 
 
 There is not the same apology for Sydney Smith's 
 cannibal humour, at the expense of the Bishop of New 
 Zealand ; whom he advised to receive the native chiefs with 
 the assurance that they would find ' cold curate and roasted 
 missionary on the sideboard'. 
 
 Not less questionable is De Quincey's paper entitled 
 ' Murder as a Fme x^rt '. Opinions differ as to the legitimacy 
 of the theme. All the author's delicacy and invention are 
 at work to invest murder with the choicest designations of 
 a work of Art. The only test to apply is — Does it foster for 
 the time our malignant gratification in the horrid details of 
 this worst of crimes ? 
 
 (3) Excess of severity. To offend the sympathies or 
 moral sentiment of those addressed is to awaken pain and 
 moral indignation instead of conferring pleasure. 
 
 (4) Clumsiness in wording, so as to expose the sharp 
 edge of malignity, without the indispensable qualifying 
 additions. 
 
 EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 The following Examples are intended to embrace the 
 whole cu'cle of Qualities above discussed. This is more
 
 246 VITUPERATION EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 convenient than to append characteristic examples to Vitu- 
 peration, Kidicule, and Humour, separately. For although 
 the three forms of composition are distinct in themselves, 
 the best illustrations of one are not always confined to that 
 one. 
 
 The quality of simple Vituperation can be exemplified 
 ^^^th the greatest purity. I commence with a modern 
 instance — Macaulay's article on Barere. 
 
 The circumstance that gives value to this article, as 
 exemplifying vituperation, is the excessive badness of the 
 subject. All the vices of human nature that could co-exist 
 in the same individual are considered to attach to Barere : 
 hence the vocabulary of moral invective is drawn upon by a 
 master's hand to the limits of exhaustion. The author 
 begins with the following summary : — 
 
 " Our opinion then is this : that Barere approached 
 nearer than any person mentioned in history or fiction, 
 whether man or devil, to the idea of consummate and uni- 
 versal depravity. In him the qualities which are the proper 
 objects of hatred, and the qualities which are the proper 
 objects of contempt, preserve an exquisite and absolute 
 harmony. In almost every particular sort of wickedness 
 he has had rivals. His sensuality was immoderate ; but 
 this was a failing common to him with many great and 
 amiable men. There have been many men as cowardly as 
 he, some as cruel, a few as mean, a few as impudent. There 
 may also have been as great liars, though we never met 
 with them or read of them. But when we put everything 
 together, sensuality, poltroonery, baseness, effrontery, men- 
 dacity, barbarity, the result is something which in a novel 
 we should condemn as caricature, and to which, we venture 
 to say, no parallel can be found in history." 
 
 The chief disadvantage in choosing the treatment of 
 such a vile W'rctch is the utter absence of apologists that 
 have to be met and conciliated. This dispenses with 
 much of the art that renders vituperative style illustrative. 
 Macaulay in some degree makes up for the defect by 
 assuming a certain incredulousness on our part to admit 
 the existence of such a monster. He begins by expressing 
 his own willingness and anxiety to find in the memoirs that 
 he reviews something to palliate the worst aspersions on the 
 character of Barere. Allowance is also made for an un- 
 fortunate badness of temperament. Moi-eover, the standard
 
 MACAULAy's ' BAKfeKE '. 247 
 
 of moral judgment is purposely made low, the better to 
 show how he fell beneath it, and distanced all the vices of 
 the most infamous actors in the French Revolution. 
 
 " Fouche seems honest ; Billaud seems humane ; Hebert 
 seems to rise into dignity." " He had many associates in 
 guilt ; but he distinguished himself from them all by the 
 Bacchanalian exultation which he seemed to feel in the work 
 of death. He was drunk with innocent and noble blood, 
 laughed, and shouted as he butchered, and howled strange 
 songs, and reeled in strange dances amidst the carnage." 
 "It is not easy to settle the order of precedence among his 
 vices, but we are inclined to think that his baseness was, 
 on the whole, a rarer and more marvellous thing than his 
 cruelty.'' 
 
 The author supports his view by an extensive recital of 
 Barere's doings in the Revolution. In this part of the case, 
 the usual device of partisan vituperation is to colour, select 
 and. suppress circumstances, with a view to the effect. All 
 this was needless, in Macaulay's judgment ; and the only 
 art that belongs to his treatment is to let the facts speak 
 for themselves, and to let the readers draw their own con- 
 clusions and boil up with indignation of their own accord. 
 Of course, an author like Macaulay can also set forth the 
 conclusion from the facts in impressive terms ; and the 
 reader, being sufficiently worked, up, is pleased to have 
 his views of the case so forcibly put. The error w^ould lie 
 in presuming too much upon the i-eader's acquiescence in 
 unqualified vituperation. Suggestiveness is preferable to 
 wordy abuse. 
 
 Macaulay is a master of all the Figures that lend them- 
 selves to effective denunciation — Irony, Innuendo, Epigram, 
 as well as damaging Similitudes. The operation of one or 
 more of these, in the form called Sarcasm, is seen in the 
 account of Barere's Christianity. 
 
 " We had, we own, indulged a hope that Barere was an 
 atheist. We now learn, however, that he was at no time 
 even a sceptic, that he adhered to his faith through the 
 whole Revolution, and that he has left several manuscript 
 works on divinity. One of these is a pious treatise, en- 
 titled ' Of Christianity, and of its Influence '. Another 
 consists of meditations on the Psalms, which will doubt- 
 less greatly console and edify the Church. This makes 
 the character complete."
 
 248 VITUPEEATION EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 The richness of vituperative phraseology, the profusion 
 of the ilkistrative comparisons, the invention of turns of 
 thought to heighten the effect, are Macaulay's own, and can- 
 not be imitated, although they may be appropriated and 
 reproduced. Yet withal, there are numerous devices of art 
 that are strictly imitable ; and these make the rhetorical 
 lesson of the article. 
 
 Dryden's * Achitophel ' (Shaftesbury) is a specimen of 
 invective, abounding in strength of language, in profusion of 
 damaging circumstances, and in well compacted verse ; but 
 there is scarcely a redeeming touch. An ordinary reader 
 can hardly enjoy the malignity of the picture without self- 
 reproach. As a slight indication to show what might have 
 been a softening treatment, we may refer to the famous 
 line — • 
 
 Great wits are sure to madness near allied. 
 
 Had concessions of positive merit, moral as well as 
 intellectual, been freely made, the picture would have been 
 more pleasing even as a feast of malignity. 
 
 The satire on Shadwell is equally vituperative, but with 
 some pretence to art. It is introduced by the character of 
 MacFlecknoe, and is conducted in a more properly humo- 
 rous vein. 
 
 All human things are subject to decay. 
 And when Fate summons, monarchs must obey. 
 This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young 
 Was called to empire and had governed long, 
 In prose and verse was owaied \\'ithout dispute 
 Through all the realms of Nonsense absolute. 
 
 The ironical bombast of the picture is severe enough, but 
 does not grate on our feelings like a free employment of the 
 vocabulary of abuse. 
 
 The fiction is continued by supposing MacFlecknoe to be 
 on the look-out for a worthy successor. This he finds in 
 Shadwell : — 
 
 Shadwell alone my perfect image bears. 
 
 Mature in dulness from his tender years ; 
 
 Shadwell alone of all my sons is he 
 
 Wlio stands confirmed in full stupidity. 
 
 Tlie rest to some faint meaning make pretence, 
 
 But Shadwell never deviates into sense. 
 
 And so on in a similar strain, which is very little removed 
 from coarse invective.
 
 pope's ' DUNCIAD '. 249 
 
 The most vituperative work of Pope is the Dunciad ; 
 but the most elevated in its style and power is the Rape 
 of the Lock. A study of the latter would show whether he 
 has any imitable arts of style, especially in the contribution 
 to Humour. The supposition, that the actual subject may 
 herself have looked upon the poem as a grand compliment, 
 is in its favour. The same could not be said of the Dunciad; 
 none of the persons there felt honom'ed by the notoriety 
 given to them. 
 
 The limitations of Humour are observed in the windings 
 of the story of the Rape of the Lock : the heroine is never 
 accused of serious moral flaws ; only of feminine vanities, 
 and little arts, compatible with a good name, and even 
 inspiring a certain pride. The moments of weakness are 
 atoned for by the splendour of the compliment and the 
 delicacy of the innuendo. The gorgeous poetry adorns 
 everything ; the burlesque is splendid. The introduction 
 of creations of fancy is made humorous by the liberties 
 taken with supernatural dignities. 
 
 Even a moral is introduced, but so slight and passing 
 that it does not detract from the enjoyment of the satire ; 
 the moralizing beauty being scouted, although the lesson is 
 read all the same. 
 
 The poet never indulges in brutal malignity ; which only 
 shows the restraining power of his private friendship. Had 
 the heroine been indifferent to him or inimical, his other 
 writings show what w^ould have been her fate ; and the 
 world would have missed the Humour, and had a treat of 
 pure vituperation instead. 
 
 Take now the Addison passage. The denunciation is 
 fearful, although minced. To say that he did not sneer 
 himself, but set on others to do it, is about the heaviest 
 charge that could be brought against a man ; and should 
 have been well sustained by proof, or else redeemed in some 
 way, which it is not. The weeping line at the end is with- 
 out relevance or force ; a mere affectation of sorrow, which, 
 had it been real, would have mitigated the ferocity of the 
 invective. 
 
 As regards the Dunciad, the vituperation is pure and 
 simple, supported by the genius of style, and made accept- 
 able by that means alone. There is none of the apologetic 
 approaches of Macaulay's 'Barere'. It is abuse carried to 
 incredible extravagance, and sullied by vulgarities and filth, 
 12.
 
 250 VITUPERATION EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 allowable only in the intensest partisanship. The sheer 
 force of the style is incommunicable. 
 
 The \dtuperative eloquence of Chatham is magnificent 
 in language ; while the invective is redeemed by the great- 
 ness of the occasions. His famous deimnciation of the 
 employment of Indians against the revolted Americans, 
 thrills every fibre of righteous indignation ; so thoroughly 
 does our sense of its justice accompany our abhorrence. It 
 was a case for plain speaking, and dispensed with the 
 softening arts that are usually needed to procure acceptance 
 to severe denunciation. The most powerful language- and 
 the most impressive figures concur to make a passage with- 
 out a rival in the annals of oratory. 
 
 The Letters of Junius is a work celebrated in our Litera- 
 ture as an example of invective. The unredeemed malignity 
 did not deprive those letters of the power to sting their 
 victims, nor does it detract from their remarkable literary 
 merits. The choice of strong language, without coarseness ; 
 the elaborate balance and compactness of the sentences ; the 
 occasional splendour of the similes ; the working out of all 
 the circumstances that could intensify detraction, — enable 
 us to tolerate the author's venomous intentions, but without 
 securing our sympathy or concurrence. There is no attempt 
 to veil the abuse, no plausible modes of approach. The 
 handling of the Duke of Grafton's descent from Charles II. 
 is a sample of the lengths that the author can go to find 
 materials for denunciation. The attack on the Duke of 
 Bedford is a pitiless onslaught of the bitterest reproaches 
 that could be conveyed in language. 
 
 We may store up in the memory something of this 
 wealth of opprobrious denunciation. What we fail to dis- 
 cover is something in the management, apart from the 
 genius, that would improve ourselves in the vituperative art. 
 
 The Figures that enter into sarcasm are exemplified to 
 perfection. The following strain of irony is addressed to 
 the Duke of Bedford : — 
 
 " My lord, you are so little accustomed to receive any 
 marks of respect or esteem from the public, that if in the 
 following hues a compliment or expression of applause 
 should escape me, I fear you would consider it as a mockery 
 of your established character, and perhaps an insult to your
 
 ' LETTERS OF JUNIUS.' 251 
 
 understanding. You have nice feelings, my lord, if we may 
 judge from your resentments. Cautious, therefore, of giving 
 offence where you have so httle deserved it, I shall leave 
 the illustration of your virtues to other hands. Your friends 
 have a privilege to play upon the easiness of your temper, or 
 probably they are better acquainted with your good qualities 
 than I am. You have done good by stealth. The rest is 
 upon record. You have still left ample room for speculation 
 when panegyric is exhausted.'' 
 
 If Junius could have eKcrcised a greater command of his 
 feelings, he might have provided a still better feast of malig- 
 nity. This he could have done by well-contrived admissions, 
 palliations and excuses ; and by keeping within the ordinary 
 limits of human nature in his attributing of vices. In that 
 case, we might have had no compunctions in going along with 
 him ; our pleasure of malignity would have been unalloyed. 
 
 Among the ixiany grandeurs of the style of Eurke must 
 be included some of our finest examples of invective. Yet 
 we cannot describe it as conducted secmtdam artem ; it is the 
 fruit of his affluence of style and intensity of feeling. His 
 attack on the Duke of Bedford is also a masterly employ- 
 ment of the Figurative arts ; but there is no redeeming 
 delicacy in the handHng, such as to soften the blows and 
 obtain a more universal and cordial detestation of his victim. 
 
 The foregoing examples have been exclusively devoted to ■ 
 vituperation or invective : those that follow will be devoted 
 mainly to the Ludicrous, in its two extremes of Eidicule and 
 Humour. 
 
 The outgoings of malignant enjoyment in all its forms — 
 vituperation, ridicule, and humour — are provided with un- 
 surpassed profusion by the prince of Greek comedians. 
 If there were any doubt as to the necessary connexion of 
 malignancy with comedy and the ridiculous, the proof from 
 his writings would be superabundant. It can also be 
 seen how a great poetic genius, by an admixture of serious 
 and lofty composition, can reconcile us to taking delight in 
 feasts of mockery. 
 
 Aristophanes is too devilish for the finest delicacies 
 of humour. He creates laughter, but with a total sacrifice 
 of his victims ; and to that extent fails in the grandest feat
 
 252 HUMOUR EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 of the humourist, which is to husband the pleasures of mahg- 
 nity. Only a mind that is on the whole kindly disposed 
 (like our own Shakespeare), is competent to the happy re- 
 conciliation. 
 
 The caricatures of the gods are, to us, the nearest 
 approach to humour in Aristophanes. It was his defect as 
 a poet to be a strong partisan. His style is vituperative 
 quite as much in the oratorical as in the poetic significa- 
 tion ; it kills the enjoyment to all that are in love with 
 truth, geniality, and human affection. 
 
 We are provided with gorgeous displays of the burlesque 
 on the great scale, as in the Parabasis of the ' Birds '. 
 There could not be a better example of the genius of lan- 
 guage converted to this use. It is also a study of Humour, 
 as showing the subtle and yet adorned malignity underlying 
 the whole passage. There is the meeting of the Sublime 
 and the Eidiculous : the imagination gratified by serious 
 grandeur, and then plunged into the enjoyment of buffoonery. 
 
 Ye Children of Man ! whose life is a span, 
 
 Protracted with sorrow from day to day, 
 
 Naked and featherless, feeble and querulous, 
 
 Sickly calamitous creatures of clay ! 
 
 Attend to the words of the Sovereign Birds 
 
 (Immortal, illustrious, lords of the air), 
 
 Who survey from on high, with a merciful eye. 
 
 Your struggles of misery, labour, and care. 
 
 Whence you may learn and clearlj^ discern 
 
 Such truths as attract your inquisitive turn ; 
 
 Which is busied of late with a mighty debate, 
 
 A profound speculation about the creation, 
 
 And organical life, and chaotical strife, 
 
 With various notions of heavenly motions. 
 
 And rivers and oceans, and valleys and mountains, 
 
 And sources of fountains, and meteors on high, 
 
 And stars in the sky. . . . We propose by-and-by 
 
 (If you'll listen and hear), to make it all clear. 
 
 And Prodicus henceforth sliall pass for a dunce, 
 
 When his doubts are explain'd and expomided at once. 
 
 Then comes a splendid caricature of creation according 
 to Greek mythology: — 
 
 Before the creation of ^ther and Light, 
 Chaos and Night together were plight. 
 In the dungeon of Erebus fouhy bcdight, 
 Nor Ocean, or Air, or substance was there, 
 Or solid or rare, or figure or form. 
 But horrible Tartarus ruled in the storm.
 
 ARISTOPHANES. 
 
 253 
 
 At length, in the dreary chaotical closet 
 Of Erebus old, was a privy deposit, 
 By Night the priniEeval in secrecy laid — 
 A mystical egg, that in silence and shade 
 Was brooded and hatch'd, till time came about, 
 And Love, the delightful, in glory flew out, 
 In rapture and light, exulting and bright. 
 Sparkling and florid, with stars in his forehead, 
 His forehead and hair, and a flutter and flare, 
 As he rose in the air, triumphantly furnish'd 
 To range his dominions on glittering pinions, 
 All golden and azure, and bloommg and burnish'd. 
 
 One step farther and the origin of the illustrious Birds is 
 complete : — 
 
 He soon, in the murky Tartarean recesses, 
 With a hurricane's might, in his fiery caresses 
 Impregnated Chaos ; and hastily snatch'd 
 To being and Ufe, begotten and hatch'd. 
 The primitive Birds : but the Deities all. 
 The celestial Lights, the terrestrial Ball, 
 Were later of birth, with the dwellers on earth 
 More tamely combined, of a temperate kind ; 
 When chaotical mixture approached to a fixture. 
 
 For the comic resources of Aristophanes we may quote 
 from the 'Frogs,' where he brings forward ^schylus and 
 Euripides, engaged in a contest for the tragic throne in the 
 Shades ; the god Bacchus (the patron of the Drama) being 
 umpire. The form of the dialogue is turned to account for 
 making every one of the three more ridiculous than another. 
 The action of the play itself, in the bringing of Bacchus imo 
 the Shades, accompanied with a humorous slave, supplies 
 the prototype of Don Quixote and Sancho. 
 
 Bacchus. Come, now, begin— dispute away ; but first I give you notice 
 That every phrase in your discourse must be refined, avoiding 
 Vulgar absurd comparisons, and awkward silly jokings. 
 
 Euripides. At the first outset I forbear to state my own pretensions : 
 Hereafter I shall mention them, when his have been refuted ; 
 After I shall have fairly shewn how he befooled and cheated 
 The rustic audience that he found, which Phrynicus bequeathed him : 
 He planted first upon the stage a figure veiled and muffled— 
 An Achilles, or a Niobe, that never shewed their faces ; 
 But kept a tragic attitude, without a word to utter. 
 
 Bac. No more they did ; 'tis very true. 
 
 Eu. In the meanwhile the chorus 
 Strung on ten strophes right-on-end ; but they remained in silence. 
 
 Bac. I liked that silence well enough : as well perhaps or better 
 Than those now talking characters. 
 
 Eu. That's from your want of judgment. 
 Believe me.
 
 254 HUMOUR EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 Bac. Why, perhaps it is — but what was his intention ? 
 
 Ell. Why, mere conceit and insolence ; to keep the people waiting 
 Till Niobe should deign to speak — to drive his drama forward. 
 
 Bac. Oh, what a rascal 1 — Now I see the tricks he used to play 
 me. 
 
 [To ^schylus, who is shoioing signs of indigiiation by various contor- 
 tions.} 
 What makes you writhe and wince about ? 
 
 Eu. Because he feels my censures. 
 Then having dragged and drawled along, half-way to the conclusion, 
 He foisted in a dozen words of noisy, boisterous accent, 
 With lofty plumes, and shaggy brows, mere bugbears of the language. 
 That no man ever heard before. 
 
 u^s. Alas ! alas I 
 
 Bac. [7*0 jEschylus] Have done there. 
 
 Ell. He never used a simple word. 
 
 Bnc. [To ^schylus] Don't grmd your teeth so strangely. 
 
 Eu. But bulwarks, and samanders, and hippogriffs, and gorgons, 
 "On burnished shields embossed hi brass" — bloody remorseless phrases 
 Which nobody could understand. 
 
 Bac. Well, I confess, for my part, 
 I used to keep awake at night %vith guesses and conjectures 
 To think what kind of foreign bird he meant by griffin horses. 
 
 ^s. A figure on the heads of ships ; you goose, you must have seen 
 them. 
 
 Bac. Well, from the likeness, I declare I took it for Eruxis. 
 
 Eu. So figures on the heads of ships are fit for tragic diction ! 
 
 ^s. Well, then, thou paltry wretch, explain — what were your own 
 devices ? 
 
 The ludicrous degradation of all the three is perfect. 
 Making the combatants irritate and aggravate one another, 
 while the umpire gravely admonishes both, and yet is on 
 the point of losing his own temper, — was to provide a rare 
 feast to the Athenian audience, which regarded all the 
 three with too little reverence to exempt them from 
 ridicule, and yet with sufficient importance to enjoy their 
 comic handling. 
 
 Aristophanes is unsurpassable in the creation of degrad- 
 ing contiguities and sun-oundings. He brings his characters 
 perpetually into contact with all that is mean, grovelling 
 and filthy ; sparing neither gods, men nor institutions. He 
 fails only in that highest stretch of humour — the power to 
 combine the maximum of enjoyment with the minimum of 
 malignity. 
 
 If ever any man deserved to be called a Humourist, it 
 is Chaucer, His genius is so exactly poised as to give us 
 feasts of malignant enjoyment without the drawback of
 
 CHAUCER. 255 
 
 offended sympathy. At all events he comes near to this 
 ideal. He was at times too heart-rending, and at other 
 times too coarse ; yet he supplies examples of the most 
 delicate adjustment of opposing conditions. 
 
 The opening passage of ' The Wyf of Bathes Tale ' is one 
 of the most consummate examples of veiled vituperation. 
 The beautiful poetry of the commencing lines is a charming 
 deception as to the poet's ultimate design. He goes back to 
 the romantic age of King Arthur, when — 
 
 The elf -queen, with hir joly compaignye, 
 Daunced ful oft in many a grene mede. 
 
 This soon turns to satire : — 
 
 But now can no man see noon elves mo. 
 
 For now the grete charity and prayeres 
 
 Of lymytours and other holy freres, 
 
 That sechen every lond and every streem, 
 
 As thik as metis in the sonne beem, 
 
 Blessynge halles, chambres, kichenes, and boures, 
 
 Citees and burghes, castels bihe and toures, 
 
 Thropes and bernes, shepenes and dayeries, 
 
 That makith that ther ben no Fayeries. 
 
 He follows up with further particulars by way of 
 clenching the reason : — 
 
 For ther as wont to walken was an elf, 
 
 Ther walkith noon but the lymytour himself 
 
 In undermeles and in morwenynges, 
 
 And saith his matyns and his holy thinges 
 
 As he goth in his lymytatioun. 
 
 Wommen may now go saufly up and doun. 
 
 The proper epithets to apply here are — complex, double- 
 dyed irony and innuendo, engrained in a dress of trans- 
 parent simplicity, — the imitation - of an honest, sincere, 
 plain-spoken tale. The onslaught on the clergy is more 
 tremendous than any open vituperation, and shows a serious 
 purpose underneath. Humour, pure and simple, is not the 
 name for the piece. 
 
 There is abundance of proper humour in the Cdntcrhiry 
 Tales. The fine characters, as outlined in the Prologue, are, 
 with the exception of the Knight, tinged with some defect 
 or weakness, to laugh at ; and the grossest and worst have 
 some redeeming traits, enough to make them interesting. 
 
 Chaucer's treatment of Women takes the form of compli- 
 ment, partly serious and partly ironical, with purposed
 
 256 HUMOUR EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 depreciation. His picture of the inimitable Griselda pro- 
 bably insinuates what he would like women to aim at 
 being; by no means an unselfish wish on the part of a 
 man. He has no doubt a genuine feeling for the sex, shown 
 in direct forms, as in his sympathy with the historic victims 
 of men's treachery. On the other hand, the merchant's 
 ' Opinion of "Wives ' attains a pitch of ironical depreciation 
 such as, but for the exquisite refinement of the dress, would 
 rank with the harshest satire. 
 
 The Humour of Shakespeare has the richness of his 
 genius, and follows its peculiarities. He did not lay him- 
 self out for pure Comedy, like Aristophanes ; he was more 
 nearly allied to the great tragedians of the classical world. 
 He had not malignity enough to be a satirist, and he kept 
 himself entirely aloof from party. His forte lay in setting 
 forth passion in its tragical intensity. Whether from being 
 conscious of the extravagance of his lofty flights, or from 
 being affected by the business point of view of a theatri- 
 cal manager, he relieved the strain of hyperbole by comic 
 descents. His invention for this purpose principally took 
 the form of providing fools, and equipping them for the part 
 they had to serve. Some of them are fools out and out, 
 like Justice Shallow, Dogberry, Verges, Costard, Gobbo, 
 Aquecheek, Bottom. Others are half-wise, making foolish- 
 ness a stalking horse for wit, as Touchstone and the grave- 
 digger in ' Hamlet '. The Fool in ' Lear,' and Feste in 
 ' Twelfth Night,' are of the type of the professional court 
 fool, w^ho could take the liberty of satirical criticism with 
 his masters. The nurse in * Romeo ' is merely silly in 
 particular points. It is necessary in all cases to make them 
 so far interesting, that we can care to follow their vagaries, 
 and laugh at the degi-adation and discomfiture that they 
 bring either upon themselves or upon more important per- 
 sonages. We need scarcely add that Shakespeare's gift of 
 language, so freely placed at their disposal, is one main 
 secret of their success as laughter-causing agents. 
 
 What then of Falstaff? 
 
 1. Critics seem agreed on the fact that he defies the laws 
 and decencies of life ; and tliis most grossly. He is a high- 
 wayman, a drunkard, a swindler, a whoremonger — all which 
 we must needs abhor. If we have any pleasure connected 
 with them, it is the pleasure of reprobation, or righteous
 
 shakespeabe's falstaff. 257 
 
 indignation, which enables us to tolerate criminals in fiction 
 and story. 
 
 2. It is further apparent that Falstaff is not a fool, nor 
 a hypocrite ; he is, in fact, quite the opposite of both. 
 He has ingenuity and resource, an endless flow of quips and 
 retorts against everybody. His verbal endowments are not, 
 as in the clownish characters, bestowed so as to make his 
 incoherence and folly more original and striking. 
 
 3. His unabashed effrontery, combined with his power of 
 language, is counted by critics the secret of his fascination. 
 His wickedness triumphs on all occasions : we are withheld 
 from pitying the victims, and rather take a malicious 
 pleasure in their undoing ; they being themselves, for the 
 most part, not very worthy characters. Further, we are 
 gratified to see him down at times, and then springing up 
 again by the sheer audacity of his inventions. 
 
 4. Much of the pleasure that such a character gives is 
 very coarse and gross. His victims deserve our sympathy, 
 on some occasions at least, as in the case of his highway 
 robbery: a robber cannot be interesting, unless his prey 
 is made out to be worthless and otherwise deserving of his 
 fate. The low companions that he mixes with are purposely 
 kept low, that they may be kicked by him, 
 
 5. There is little attempt to give him redeeming traits of 
 affection and generosity. He is made to have a kind of 
 attachment to the prince, as when he uses the remarkable 
 illustration of male friendship ; but, while Henry took 
 amusement with him, there was scarcely any apparent love 
 between them ; and the pretence of emotion might have 
 been mere servility. 
 
 He does good to nobody ; his love is sensual and selfish, 
 and does not soften his wicked traits : it is his wit and 
 unabashed effrontery together that cover and counter- 
 balance his vices. 
 
 6. The occasion is taken to picture graphically a circle of 
 low life in that day. The dramatic force of the personation 
 of Mrs. Quickly and the others is very great, and speaks for 
 itself. People like to get a peep into the haunts of wicked- 
 ness, if only to see how they are conducted : Shakespeare is 
 here very minute and communicative, like a Dutch realistic 
 artist. He bodies the characters forth with finely selected 
 touches ; his language intensifies, but does not misre- 
 present, them.
 
 258 HUMOUR EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 The question now is — What, if any, are the defects of 
 the personation as a work of art ? What things may we 
 reasonably object to as violating critical laws ? 
 
 (1) The whole delineation labours under a superfluity 
 of grossness and coarseness, unless for the very lowest 
 tastes. A great deal of the plain speaking should have 
 been removed a little distance by fine innuendoes. The 
 coarseness of the women might have been covered over, 
 without loss to the dramatic personation. 
 
 (2) Falstaff ought to have had occasional strokes of 
 smart retribution for his wicked conduct. His highway 
 attempts should have been baffled and should have recoiled 
 on himself ; he being allowed to lie as much as he pleased 
 to cover his defeat. Sometliing of this actually happened 
 in the Gadshill incident. 
 
 (3) His profusion of language derived from the wealth of 
 the author's creative genius could, of course, have been more 
 select and refined : it is evidently a rapid and promiscuous 
 outpouring from his unpremeditated stores. 
 
 (4) While Falstaff was a coM'ard in real danger, his ad- 
 mirers very properly indicate the courage of his brazen-faced 
 lies, denials and evasions. This has a certain attraction for 
 us ; it is one of the things that qualify the painful dislike that 
 we might otherwise feel for his enormities. Of course, the 
 pleasure lies in the discomfiture of his accusers, whom we 
 know to be in the right, but are willing to see baulked for 
 a while ; just as we enjoy the ingenuity of a criminal in 
 eluding the search of the police. 
 
 (5) This pleasure, however, should be accompanied 
 with a mild abhorrence of his misdeeds ; and, therefore, 
 these need to be so stated and glozed over as not to excite 
 our strongest pitch of abhorrence. There is always a point 
 where the delight in malignity, and the sympathy with 
 mischief, pass into the pain of abhorrence and disgust. 
 The management of this transition is the great art in 
 making criminals interesting. 
 
 The genius of Eabelais supplies extravagant vituperation 
 and ridicule in the wiklest profusion ; a moral purpose 
 underlying. Coarse and brutal fun runs riot. He is more 
 a g( niiis than an artist, and does not exemplify that delicate 
 reconciliation of opposites needed for humour; while suffi- 
 ciently confirming the general doctrine that connects the
 
 EABELAIS. 259 
 
 pleasures of laughter with some form of malignity. The 
 dehght in chuckling over a coward is luxuriously provided 
 by the author's splendid invention of circumstances in the 
 picture of a storm at sea. 
 
 " Pantagruel having first implored the aid of the Great 
 God his Preserver, and made public prayer in fervent de- 
 votion, by the advice of the pilot held firmly to the mast. 
 Friar John was stripped to the shirt to help the sailors ; so 
 also were Epistemon, Ponocrates, and the rest. Panurge 
 alone sat on the deck weeping and lamenting. Friar John, 
 peeing him, cried out, 'By the Lord! Panurge the calf; 
 Panurge the blubberer; Panurge the coward. You would 
 do much better to help us here than to sit there crying like 
 a cow ! ' ' Be, be, be, bous, bous, bous! ' rephed Panurge. 
 ' Friar John, my friend, my good father, I drown— my friend, 
 I drown. It is all over with me, my spiritual father, my 
 friend — it is all over. The water has got into my shoes by 
 way of my collar. Bous, bous, bous, paisch, hu, hu, hu ! 
 I drown, Bebe bous, bous, bobous, bobous, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho ! 
 Zalas ! Zalas ! now I am like a forked tree, with my heels 
 up and my head down. Would to God that I were now in 
 the ark of those blessed fathers whom we met this morning, 
 so devout, so fat, so joyous, and so full of grace. Holos, holos, 
 holos, zalas, zalas ! this wave of all the devils (mea culpa 
 Deus) — I mean this wave of the Lord, w^ll overwhelm our 
 ship. Zalas ! Friar John, confession. Here I am on my 
 knees. Conjiteor, your sacred benediction.' ' Thousand 
 devils ! ' cried Friar John. * Do not let us swear,' said 
 Panurge. 'To-morrow as much as you please.'" 
 
 The conclusion, as rendered by Leigh Hunt, is still more 
 comically conceived. The timidity of Panurge is only 
 equalled by his hypocrisy and his meanness : — 
 
 •'I sink; I die, my friends. I die in charity with all the world. 
 Farewell. Bous, bous, bousoivwanwaus. St. IMichael 1 St. Nicholas ! 
 now or never. Deliver me from this danger, and I here make a solemn 
 vow to build you a fine large little chapel or two between Conde and 
 Monsoreau, where neither cow nor calf shall feed. Oh, oh ! pailfuls 
 are getting down my throat — bous, bous. How devilish bitter and salt it 
 is ! Oh, you smn'd just now, Friar Jolm, you did indeed ; you sinn'd 
 when you swore ; think of that, my former crony ! former, I say, be- 
 cause it's all over with us ; with you as well as with me. Oh, I sink, I 
 sink. Oh to be but once again on dry ground ; never mind how or in 
 what condition; ofv, if I tvas but on firm land, with somebody kicking 
 me."
 
 260 HUMOUR EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 As a purer specimen of genuine humour we may now 
 refer to Don Quixote. 
 
 To appreciate this marvellous performance, we need, as 
 in other cases, to abstract the serious purpose ; which often 
 interferes with the true effect. The ridicule of knight-errantry 
 evidently extends to the reproof of rash interference, out of 
 generous impulses, as in the boy whose whipping was un- 
 mercifully increased. No person of ordinary humanity can 
 think this amusing. 
 
 Next, there is obviously much intentional ridicule of the 
 current usages of government and society ; all which can be 
 rendered amusing in consequence of our delight in humbling 
 the great, the proud and the wealthy. 
 
 When a smack of revenge can be introduced, the nar- 
 ratives of the humiliation inflicted are intensely agreeable. 
 The duke and the duchess are well caricatured, as are the 
 chaplain and the dramatists ; and the satire on promoting 
 favourites to high posts is also effective. 
 
 When we come to the Don and Sancho, the picture of 
 their self-depicted folly, continually fresh and new, is our 
 great enjoyment, and has few drawbacks. We hold them 
 welcome to make fools of themselves for our satisfaction. 
 
 The Don in his knight-errantry is, of course, a satire 
 against the order of knights ; but that must be very much 
 lost upon us from our being little acquainted with the old 
 romance. The want of such knowledge operates in various 
 ways. For one thing, it often brings the narrative to the 
 point of ridicule and incredible extravagance. We are 
 not amused by the doings of a madman as such; mad- 
 ness must be regulated for a purpose, and supported 
 by genius and touches of sobriety. The windmill inci- 
 dent is very doubtful ; Sancho's naive comments save 
 it, and many other extravagances, from being simply 
 repulsive. 
 
 There is broad fun for the multitude in the number of 
 blows and humiliations inflicted on both personages ; but 
 they get over these, very much like Homer's personages. 
 It, however, gives an occasional coarseness to the story. 
 Twice, the Don is enraged by Sancho's familiar remarks in 
 deriding his pretensions ; and we laugh at the indignation 
 of the chief, and the hmnble but ingenuous attitude of the 
 squire. 
 
 Sancho's materialism is always regarded as a part of the
 
 * DON QUIXOTE.' 261 
 
 picture, and is thoroughly well sustained by his shrewdness, 
 and by his command of proverbs to such an excess as to 
 lead to his being often snubbed. His ambition, elation, 
 and self-delusion are so well supported that they pass off 
 without seeming absurd. His being puffed up with the idea 
 of reaching high office is so delicately managed as to be the 
 chief humour of the piece. His misgivings as to his wife's 
 aptitude for being the wife of a governor, and his misery at 
 the thought of the Don becoming a cardinal, when his 
 patronage would be ecclesiastical solely, and not in the 
 Don's line of life, — are all exquisitely contrived for un- 
 mitigated fun. 
 
 The ridiculous is clearly overdone in the attack on the 
 puppets ; but this passes as satire due to the author's 
 abhorrence of the Moors. Otherwise^ it is next thing to 
 childish. 
 
 The rescue of the galley slaves can only rank with the 
 whipping of the boy, as a reproof to humanitarian senti- 
 ment, for which it is a good standing quotation. 
 
 We are bound to take note of the positive redeeming 
 qualities of high honour and honesty, although they are 
 absurdly manifested. These serve to redeem both the folly 
 and the occasional mischief. 
 
 Then, again, the interest of love is not entirely over- 
 whelmed by ridicule, although undoubtedly very much 
 bespattered. There is a still more exquisite mixture pos- 
 sible, where love shall have its charm, and yet be so far 
 taken dovni as not to make the lover altogether contempt- 
 ible : this is when the spectator and even the lover himself 
 can laugh at it. 
 
 The Humour of Addison has been characterised by 
 Thackeray in these terms : — 
 
 " He came, the gentle satirist, who hit no unfair blow ; 
 the kind judge, who castigated only in smiling. While 
 Swift went about, hanging and ruthless — a literary Jeffries 
 — in Addison's kind court only minor cases were tried : 
 only peccadilloes and small sins against society : only a 
 dangerous libertinism in tuckers and hoops ; or a nuisance 
 in the abuse of beaux' canes and snuff-boxes. It may be a 
 lady is tried for breaking the peace of our sovereign lady 
 Queen Anne, and ogling too dangerously from the side- box : 
 or a Templar for beating the watch, or breaking Priscian's
 
 262 HUMOUE EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 head : or a citizen's wife for caring too much for the puppet- 
 show, and too little for her husband and children : every 
 one of the little sinners brought before hira is amusing, and 
 he dismisses each with the pleasantest penalties and the 
 most charming words of admonition.'' 
 
 This is a very fine ideal of what Humour should be ; 
 yet we must receive it with some qualifications. We may 
 fairly doubt whether any man could become a great public 
 favourite, without dipping his pen much deeper in malignity 
 than is here represented. 
 
 The famous paper on the Book of Psalms written on a 
 face of Charles I., is supposed to be mere incongruity' as 
 such ; but the malignant humour is easily traceable. It 
 throws contempt on the artist, by a transparent ironical 
 mockery of his work. 
 
 Again, the treatment of fine ladies — as in the play 
 with the fans, and in the wearing of patches on difi'erent 
 sides of the face indicative of Whig or Tory leanings — 
 does not charge them with immorality or serious vice, but 
 insinuates such an amount of silliness as would be suffi- 
 ciently offensive to themselves. The condemnation may 
 not be damaging, like downright moral censure, or absolute 
 folly ; nevertheless, it involves the attributes of ill-concealed 
 vanity and weakness of understanding, which would be felt 
 by those that considered themselves aimed at, and would be 
 a treat of malignity to others. 
 
 Let us refer more particularly to the Sir Eoger de 
 Coverley papers. It depends on the management whether 
 such a character inspires in us contempt or good-natured 
 laughter. The genius lies in contriving expressive situa- 
 tions ; and here Addison excels. 
 
 In the opening paper. Sir Eoger is at home, and the 
 ' Spectator ' is his guest. His amiability is finely touched, 
 and emphasized by the attachment of his domestics. The 
 humour begins at his relations with his chaplain ; in which 
 the author introduces an abundantly severe satire, though 
 very softly worded, on the clergy of the time. This is the 
 real diift of the paper. 
 
 The fourth paper takes up and intensifies the hit at the 
 clergy. It professes to be Sir Roger's Sunday occupation. 
 It gives his behaviour at church, with which we are all 
 familiar. While he is making himself sufficiently ridiculous 
 there, the author takes care to supply redeeming touches,
 
 AnniHi^N. 
 
 U(Ul 
 
 to tl»(> ' olTt>('t tliiit tlio f:j(>t>t>r!il };oi»il H(>Ms»» iind wiM'MiiiitmM 
 of l\is fhuiiU-toi' lUiikt* his Iricnds ohsi>ivo l.h<>so liltl<» MiUf^u- 
 liiritios as foils Mint. nitluM- sof olV l.litui hloiiUHh hin j^ooil 
 «^llMlit'it^s '. Tliis iuif!,'lili lu' nil vt>i\ triu' il Iti'i li>lly wi'ic ii, 
 littlo li>ss proiiouuciHl. 
 
 I^t'foro cloHiii;^ {\\o pnpiM', llii> Miillior ^{^oh oii(. of liiti wiiy 
 to |>ri>\ i(l(> (he i(-;hli'r willi ii til ion j^ illfllnioii of iuilli(Moiii< 
 |>l('iisui(< nti (ho l'\pt>lls(^ of t.ho s(piii'o niul pmvioii of tho 
 luljoiniii;.;' pjirisli. Tho pn>tti\ti in iiuich too idoinlt'f to iiii 
 poso upon any o\\i\ 
 
 " 'rh(< fair undoistaudini-i; ht>l\vo(Mi Sn' lvo>-;i<r and hiHchap 
 la,in, a,nd t.li(>ii' iniit.iial conrui ronc(> in iloinj.; }-\<uh\, ia tJio 
 moro ^(^nla^l^ahl(^, l)(»('aJlst^ lh(* very nosi- \illaf',o in faiinoiiH 
 for tho dilTcrcnri'S a.ml confoMliionti fliai riao hot.wi'on fho 
 parson and tho stpnro. wiio livi' in ai porp(\fiia,l Nfii.t.o of wa.i'. 
 Tho parson is always proachin;;; iit. tho lupiiro ; n.nd liho 
 S(|nir(<, l.o h(< roxcnj^rd on Ihr paison, n<'\i'r i'(ini(<ii fo chinch. 
 Tlui S(piiri« hits nlal(l(^ aJI his f(Uia.nfs a.fh(>i)tlia a,nd lilhn- 
 Hf(iai(<rs ; whih' tho |)a.rHoii insfriicia fhoin ovory SniKhiy in 
 tho di}^nify of his ord(«r, mid insiniialiOM fo IJkmii, in alnidsl. 
 ovory sci'iiHHi, thai ho is a. IioMim' nuui iJiiui his paXron In 
 Hliorli, nail>l<(U's a.i'(^ roim^ tiO sin-li an i^xliroinify, Irhai fho 
 H(piiro ha.s not/ siuil Ins prayiu'H oitJaM' in piihlic or prividio 
 fhis half yi'a.r ; and thai iJic paj'Non fhi'i'ali'iiii hnn, if li(« 
 docs iiot> inland Ins iiiaiiiK^rs, l.o pi'ay for hini in I. ho fa.c(^ of 
 Iho whole coiif^rcj^at.ion." 
 
 The pi<'l.iiid of I. he fwo men is a. ^^^I'oss ca.rica.l.iiro, i^\i'U 
 of lilio looHo liii.liil.s of l/lio l.inin ; and l.lio sofl.ncsii of l.lio 
 ]aii^^iia,(j;o (■annol. diH;,^Miisc nor mollify l.ho poisoned da,rl.s. 
 Whol.licr for iiif^cniiify in dnyisin^'; circiimsl.ai^cfis, or for 
 nia.li;niil.y of purpose, l\\i\ sal. ire is on a level vvifh anyl.hin(/ 
 in I 'ope or Swifl.. 
 
 Ill lia.H Ix'eii emphii.fica,lly poinfeil oiil. hy LcimIi llimf, 
 l)y Tha,cl(i!ra,y hnnself, luid hy I'rofessor IVIinfo, l.hn,!, I, he 
 {^(inial side of t.lie llnnioiir in l.ho ,^fiir/ii/<ir dcpeialed nof 
 on Addison, hiif on Ml<eel(!. l''or flie conversion of iiat.iro 
 info liiimoiir, hy I/ho r()do(Uiiiii(; power of Lender feelin^^, 
 SffiCiln JH one of our iiofed oxiunples. lie is in fins reiipecl, 
 t/lio M,iitiit/liesiH a.lil<() of I'opo, Hwiff, ii.iid Addison. (Hen 
 JVIinl/o'H J'roHt' Ijilri-dluri', Adiuhon n,ii(| H'l'i'ii'iMo.j 
 
 I'or Vil.ii|»era,fion and |{.iiii(tiile, Hwiff hii,H few eqiiidn, 
 ajid no superior. On ra,re ocf^asioiis, he, e.KoMijdilieM
 
 264 HUMOUE EXEMPLIFIED, 
 
 Humour; and, had his disposition been less savage and 
 mahgnant, he would have done so much oftener. 
 
 His Gulliver and his Tale of a Tub have a quantity of 
 fine innuendo and irony, applied chiefly to politicians and 
 ecclesiastics ; the Battle of the Books takes up scholars. 
 His richness of invention maintains the double attitude so 
 well that we cannot charge him with vituperation properly 
 so called. He has also a certain redeeming purpose ; his 
 satire of rulers being moved by an apparently honest 
 sympathy with the governed. 
 
 The poem on his own end is a curious selection of 
 circumstances from the worst side of human nature, cun- 
 ningly contrived to make mankind out selfish, hypocritical 
 and mean. It has no end but to display his invention and 
 gratify his own spite ; it must fail to carry his readers with 
 him. 
 
 A certain touch of Hunour occurs in the passage where 
 Gulliver was kept as a p3t of the Brobdignagian princess, 
 and had various mishaps, but always came under her pro- 
 tection. Even here mockery is the prevailing circumstance, 
 only more effective by the dilution in kindliness. 
 
 His splendid character-drawing lends itself to both ridi- 
 cule and humour. Leigh Hunt specially admires ' Mary 
 the Cook-maid's Letter to Dr. Sheridan,' as a happy por- 
 trait of incoherence and irrelevance taken from the life. A 
 few lines may be given as illustrative of this kind of 
 humour : — 
 
 And the Dean, my master, is an honester man than you and all your 
 
 kin : 
 He has more goodness in his little finger, than j-ou have in your whole 
 
 body : 
 My master is a parsonablo man, and not a spindle-shank'd hoddy- 
 
 doddy. 
 And now, whereby I find you would fain make an excuse. 
 Because my master one day, in anger, call'd you a goose ; 
 Which, and I am sure I have been his servant four years since October, 
 And he never call'd me worse than sweetheart, drunk or sober. 
 
 Fielding provides a rich storehouse of the Ludicrous. 
 There is over his whole work an air of Humour, which is 
 often turned to Satire. He makes ludicrous degradations of 
 the Homeric invocations by using their forms on lowly oc- 
 casions. In Tom. Jones, Molly Seagrim's battle with the 
 parish congregation in the churchyard and her routing
 
 FIELDING. 265 
 
 them with a bone, is sung by the Muse in the Homeric 
 style : — 
 
 " Eecount, O Muse, the fate of those who fell on this 
 fatal day. First Jemmy Tweedle felt on his hinder head 
 the direful bone. Him the pleasant banks of sweetly- 
 winding Stour had nourished, where he at first learned the 
 vocal art, with which, wandering up and down at wakes 
 and fairs, he cheered the rural nymphs and swains, when 
 upon the green they interweaved the sprightly dance ; while 
 he himself stood fiddling and jumping to his own music. 
 Hoii) little now avails his fiddle I He thumps the verdant 
 floor with his carcase. Next old Echepole, the sow-gelder, 
 received a blow in his forehead from our Amazonian heroine, 
 and immediately fell to the ground. He was a swinging fat 
 fellow, and fell with almost as much noise as a house. His 
 tohacco-box dropt at the same time from his pocket, which 
 Molly took up as lawful spoils. . . . Tom Freckle, the 
 smith's son, was the next victim to her rage. He was an 
 ingenious workman, and made excellent pattens ; nay, the 
 very patten with which he was knocked down was his own 
 workmanship. Had he been at that time singing psalms in the 
 church, he would have avoided a broken head." 
 
 The following are some shorter specimens from Tom 
 Jones : — 
 
 Sophia's maid divulging to her mistress a secret that she 
 had promised Tom to keep, ends thus : — 
 
 " So I hope your ladyship will not mention a word : for 
 he gave me a crown never to mention it, and made me 
 swear upon a book, but I believe, indeed, it was not the 
 Bible". 
 
 The same character says to her mistress : — 
 
 " It would be very ungrateful in me to desire to leave 
 your ladyship ; because as why, / should never yet so gaud a 
 place again " . 
 
 To illustrate the value of contrast in art, Fielding has a 
 side-stroke of satire against ladies who like an ugly com- 
 panion for foil : — 
 
 "The ladies themselves seem so sensible of this, that 
 they are all industrious to procure foils : nay,- they will be- 
 come foils to themselves ; for I have observed (at Bath 
 particularly) that they endeavour to appear as ugly as 
 possible in the morning, in order to set off that beauty 
 which they intend to show you in the evening ".
 
 266 HUMOUK EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 The same subject gives him an opening for an in- 
 geniously ironical stroke of satire : — 
 
 " To say the truth, these soporific parts [where Homer 
 nods] are so many scenes of serious artfully interwoven, in 
 order to contrast and set off the rest ; and this is the true 
 meaning of a late facetious writer, who told the public, that 
 tvhenever he teas dull they might be asaured there was a desiqn 
 in it . 
 
 It will be sufficient for our purpose of expounding the 
 conditions of success in Humorous creations, to select pne 
 more example from our own contemporaries. 
 
 In the novels of George Eliot we find abundant ex- 
 amples of the richest humour, accompanied with turns of 
 language that could be brought under Wit ; although the 
 epigrammatic type of pure word-play is not aimed at spe- 
 cially, still less the mere pun. She is both satirist and 
 humourist on the great scale. She dives into the inmost 
 recesses of egotism in all its shapes— selfishness, conceit, 
 vanity, hypocrisy, self-delusion ; while intellectual imbe- 
 cility, either as ignorance or as folly, is her special butt. 
 By making ample allowance for real generosity and amia- 
 bility in her characters, she becomes entitled to the higher 
 praise of humour. Both for serious and for comic effects, 
 she possesses the genius of illustrative comparison and 
 siniile in no ordinary measure ; and can frame the most 
 dehcate innuendos. The theory of Humour can be abun- 
 dantly confirmed from her examples ; it is always at the 
 expense of some one's dignity or consequence ; although 
 very often whole classes, or mankind at large, are pointed 
 at. Thus:— 
 
 " We are so pitiably in subjection to all sorts of vanity 
 — even the very vanities we are practically renouncing". 
 This is intended to take everybody down, and yet we can 
 relish its cleverness. 
 
 " No systeni, religious or political, I believe, has laid it 
 down as a principle that all men are alike virtuous, or even 
 that all the people rated for £80 houses are an honour to 
 their species." Only certain classes are intended here; and 
 those not included will take pleasure in the satire. 
 
 " If there are two things not to be hidden— love and a 
 cough— I say there is a third, and that is ignorance, when
 
 GEORGE ELIOT. 267 
 
 once a man is obliged to do something besides wagging his 
 head." There is passable humour in the conjunction of love 
 and a cough, and a pretty strong dose of contempt for igno- 
 rance ; with which the knowing ones will be delighted. 
 
 The sayings of the gifted and severe Mrs. Poyser are 
 usually downright and strong ; occasionally, they exemplify 
 the author's delicacy of surprise and innuendo. For ex- 
 ample : — 
 
 " I'm not denyin' the women are foolish; God Almighty 
 made 'em to match the men ". 
 
 If we were to be critical, for the sake of a Ehetorical 
 lesson, we might say that the humour is sometimes sacrificed 
 to the pungency. The author's judgments of human beings 
 in general are too severe to be uniformly agreeable. There 
 is an unnecessary harshness in such a saying as this : — 
 * We are apt to be kinder to the brutes that love us than to 
 the women that love us. Is it because the brutes are 
 dumb ? ' Even if there were plausibility in this surmise, it 
 is needlessly grating. 
 
 " Mrs. Tulliver, as we have seen, was not without influ- 
 ence over her husband. No woman is; she can always 
 incline him to do either what she wishes, or the reverse." 
 This is clever satire, but not calculated to please. It is 
 typical of an extensive manufacture of witty sayings at the 
 expense of the kindly home relations.
 
 WIT. 
 
 1. Wit, in its most distinctive feature, is a play upon 
 words, rendered possible by the frequent plurality of 
 meanings in the same language. 
 
 The ingenuity displayed in this exercise may be 
 such as to excite surprise and admiration. 
 
 The pleasure of admiration may arise from ingenuity in 
 any work of men ; for example, inventions in machinery, as 
 the steam engine ; master-strokes of tactics in war, like 
 Wellington's Lines of Torres Vedras ; discoveries in science, 
 as gravity; skill in games. None of these obtain the 
 designation of Wit. 
 
 Pope's definition of Wit — 
 
 What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed — 
 
 points to the skilled employment of language generally, and 
 would have been received in his day as a just definition. In 
 our time, a narrower meaning prevails, although not to the 
 exclusion of a wider and vaguer usage. All that class of 
 effects, arising out of the plural meanings of words, is Wit 
 in this narrow sense. By whatever name expressed, there 
 is a notable distinctiveness in the process as a hterary art. 
 
 The Figure of Speech named Epigram coincides very 
 largely with this meaning of Wit. It is an agreeable effect 
 of surprise, through the play upon words that have more 
 than one meaning. (See Pabt First, Epigram.) 
 
 A distinction is drawn between the Epigram proper and 
 the Pun. It is under this last form that everyday Wit runs 
 into the wildest profusion. Nine-tenths of all the so-called 
 witticisms are puns. 
 
 The Paradox is a name for some startling proposition, 
 which owes its force to an apparent contradiction, like the 
 Epigram. Hence it is used among the names for defining 
 and illustrating Wit. 
 
 Next to the Epigram, we include effects coming under
 
 PLAY UPON WOKDS. 269 
 
 the Figures of Innuendo and Irony ; which work by afford- 
 ing two (or more) different openings to the thoughts ; the 
 one apparent but not intended, the other intended but not 
 apparent. 
 
 One of Jerrold's well-known witticisms was directed 
 against an objectionable person, who said of a certain musical 
 air, that * he was quite carried aicay by it '. 'Is there 
 any one here that can whistle it ? ' was the remark. The 
 play upon ' carried away ' was the instrument of a subtle and 
 telling innuendo. 
 
 Voltaire said of Dante's reputation — that, if people 
 read him, the admiration would cease. Without word-play, 
 there is here a cutting insinuation, aimed at Dante and his 
 admirers alike. 
 
 The point and compression of the balanced sentence may 
 be treated as nearly allied to effects of wit proper, although 
 wanting in verbal equivocations: — 'My poverty, but not my 
 will, consents'. ' Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I 
 loved Eome more.' Many of Fuller's witticisms are of this 
 kind : ' I shall not wonder that good men die so soon, but 
 that they live so long ; seeing wicked men desire their room 
 here on earth and God their company in heaven '. 
 
 When we pass from the meanings now stated, we lose 
 the distinctive and well-marked character of word-play, and 
 enter on a wider range of literary ingenuity, approaching 
 more closely to Pope's definition. For example, the use of 
 balance and antithesis, when very effective, may receive the 
 compliment of wit. In this application, something is due 
 to the idea of compact brevity and terseness, which entered 
 into the original notion of the Epigram, and adheres still to 
 the character of Wit. As this effect demands an ingenious 
 manipulation of words, and imparts an agreeable surprise 
 when well executed, it easily chimes in with the more strict 
 employment of the term. 
 
 Still further from the primitive and standard meaning 
 is the application of the word to a brilliant simile or meta- 
 phor. Ingenuity, originality, and the putting of much 
 meaning into few words, together operate to awaken sur- 
 prise and admiration : and, as language is the vehicle of the 
 effect, we regard it as nearly allied to the characteristic 
 effects of wit. Thus — 
 
 Bright like the sun her eyes the gazers strike, 
 And like the sun they shine on all alike.
 
 270 WIT. 
 
 When metaphors oi' similes are exaggerated and dis- 
 paraging, they are ministerial to vituperation, ridicule, or 
 humour. They are called wit, when they are distinguished 
 for brevity or verbal point. Jerrold, after a bad illness, 
 described himself as having ' made a runaway knock at 
 Death's door '. 
 
 Sydney Smith's definition of marriage is called witty, 
 from his ingenuity in framing a simile wnth a plurality of 
 applications : ' It resembles a pair of shears, so joined that 
 they cannot be separated ; often moving in opposite direc- 
 tions, yet always punishing any one who comes bet\yeen 
 them '. 
 
 2. Seeing that Wit, in its purest form, aims chiefly 
 at a pleasing surprise, the originality and ingenuity 
 must be of a distinguished sort : it must sparkle. 
 
 It may fail from one or other of three vices : (1) 
 Coarseness, (2) Eemoteness or Obscurity, (3) Excess. 
 
 (1) Wit, in itself, besides possessing the essential circum- 
 stance of ingenuity, must avoid Coarseness. The search for 
 witticisms has to be controlled by refinement or delicacy. 
 Some of the greatest wits have overstepped this boundary : 
 as Aristophanes, among the ancients ; Eabelais, Swift and 
 Pope, among moderns. (See Humour, p. 244.) 
 
 (2) Like every other effect of style, Wit must be intel- 
 ligible to those addressed. Far-fetched allusions are con- 
 denmed, whatever be their purpose. 
 
 (3) The greatest risk, in constantly aiming at wit, is 
 overdoing it. Like all pungent effects, it palls by repeti- 
 tion ; although, by originality, the limits of surfeit can be 
 so far extended. 
 
 The torturing of language may be carried to a point 
 where meaning is entirely sacrificed to effect. This point 
 is reached by conundrums, riddles and acrostics. 
 
 3. In the great majority of instances, Wit lends 
 itself to other effects. It may be used in furtherance 
 of any of the gi'eat emotional qualities, although most 
 frequently employed in connexion with Vituperation, 
 liidicule and Humour. 
 
 In all such cases, its propriety must be ruled by 
 aptness for the end in view. 
 
 As employed in Vituperation, Ridicule, and the Ludi-
 
 AS THE MEDIUM OF OTHER EFFECTS. 271 
 
 crous, wit has to be judged by the results. We have already 
 recognized, among the palhatives of the ludicrous that con- 
 vert it into Humour, the agency of Wit. 
 
 It is easy to quote witticisms that draw" the sting of 
 vituperation, by the delicacy and ingenuity of the wording. 
 
 A Puritan is said to have been the author of the pun — 
 Great praise to God, and little Laud to the Devil. 
 
 Sir Francis Burdett, when he became a Tory, had the 
 want of tact to declaim against the prevailing cant of 
 patriotism. Lord John Eussell retorted that there was one 
 thing even worse — the re-cant of patriotism. This will be 
 celebrated among the arrows of invective feathered by wit. 
 
 Although somewhat less frequent, Wit may be employed 
 to convey and enhance a compliment, and also to fence it, 
 by abating the jealousy of being praised. 
 
 Jerrold's Wit was for the most part depreciatory, but 
 there were exceptions. His epitaph on Charles Knight, 
 the pubhsher, a man greatly esteemed, was both happy 
 and complimentary: 'Good Knight'. 
 
 Chaucer could mingle touches of depreciation with his 
 characters in a way to heighten the force of his eulogy. 
 The Clerk is a good example. 
 
 Goldsmith's fine compliment on Garrick — 
 
 An abridgment of all that is pleasant in man — 
 is not marred, but the contrary, by the enumeration of his 
 foibles that follows. 
 
 It is characteristic of Congreve to work from exactly the 
 opposite view. He concedes a compliment to point an 
 invective :— ' His want of learning gives him more oppor- 
 tunities to show his natural parts'. Wycherley has the 
 same turn, though mostly less polished in the wording : — 'I 
 can allege nothing against your practice— but your ill 
 success ', 
 
 Fielding even insinuates a satire on mankind in general 
 by means of a compliment paid to an individual :— 
 
 " Poverty and distress seemed to him to give none a 
 right of aggravating those misfortunes. The meanness of 
 her condition did not represent her misery as of little conse- 
 quence in his eyes, nor did it appear to justify, or even to 
 palliate, his guilt, in bringing that misery upon her." 
 
 By making one the exception, the author makes the rest 
 the rule.
 
 272 WIT EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 The excessive displays of the Love emotion are tempered 
 by Wit, as well as by Humour, and so kept at a greater dis- 
 tance from mawkish sentimentality. No one excels Shake- 
 speare in this device for the dilution and redemption of 
 erotic extravagance. His Benedick and Beatrice play at 
 love-making, and disguise the reality of their mutual passion 
 by banter, quips and cutting repartees. 
 
 Among effects allied to the nature of Wit, and illustrative 
 of it, although more suitably discussed in a different con- 
 nexion (see Melody), are Alliteration, Ehyme and Metre. 
 
 EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 Under Figures of Speech, a large amount of attention 
 was bestowed on Epigram, as well as on Irony and Innuendo. 
 In all species of Wit, these are recurring effects. Hyper- 
 bole or Exaggeration is also one of the principal forms of 
 the ludicrous. 
 
 It has been already apparent that the chief, though not 
 the only, use of Wit is to bring forth the Ludicrous, whether 
 as Eidicule or as Humour : so that the further exemplifica- 
 tion of the quality will implicate these other effects. Almost 
 all the eminent wits are humourists ; in a few the humour 
 depends less upon word-play than upon other devices. 
 
 In classing witticisms, with a view to expounding Wit, 
 we should have to treat as one species those arising from the 
 play of language alone. Between these and such as reside 
 entirely in the thought, there is a class dependent partly on 
 the one circumstance and partly on the other. 
 
 In all the kinds, there may be a subdivision into Pure 
 Wit, where the effect is simple surprise, and Applied Wit, 
 where a further end is sought, whether vituperation, compli- 
 ment, humour or illustration of a truth. 
 
 Of our great humourists, some depend very little upon 
 word-play; others a. great deal. The finest passages in 
 Don Ciuixofe are not remarkable for what is strictly called 
 wit. The same may be said of Rabelais. Even Moliere's 
 humour and sarcasm do not often exhibit the play of 
 epigrams or puns ; although irony and innuendo are suffi- 
 ciently worked. 
 
 The Elizabethans are our earliest English source of 
 purely witty combinations. They often sacrifice more im- 
 portant qualities to word-play. Thus, of Lyly the ' Euphuist,'
 
 THE ELIZABETHANS. — SHAKESPEAEE. 273 
 
 Professor Minto remarks : * There is hardly a sentence in 
 his comedies that does not contain some pun, or clever 
 antithesis, or far-fetched image. He is so uninterruptedly- 
 witty that he destroys his own wit ; the play on words and 
 images ceases to be unexpected, and so falls out of the 
 definition.' 
 
 Shakespeare's word-play is notorious, and shows alike 
 the good and the bad side of the exercise. Occasionally, it 
 yields humour; at other times, it is nothing but witty sur- 
 prise, of all degrees of originality and brilliancy ; while, again, 
 it is characterized as a tissue of conceits. As displayed in 
 ' Eomeo and Juliet,' it is designated by Mr. Dowden as ' the 
 sought-out phrases, the curious antitheses of the amorous 
 dialect of the period '. 
 
 Why, then, O brawling love I loving hate I 
 
 anything, of notliing first create ! 
 
 O heavy lightness ! Serious vanity ! 
 
 Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms ! 
 
 Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! 
 
 Beatrice affords two characteristic specimens of Shake- 
 speare's wit, both on the good side. Flouting matrimony she 
 says : — ' Adalm's sons are my brethren, and, truly, I hold 
 it sin to match in my kindred ' ; where the effect lies mainly 
 in the dexterous word-play. At another time she turns the 
 point of her uncle's compliment on her perspicacity : — 
 * I have a good eye, uncle ; I can see a church by daylight ' ; . 
 where the effect lies wholly in the conflict of ideas. 
 
 In Butler's Hudihras, the most remarkable quality is 
 vituperation, with more or less of the Eidiculous conjoined. 
 The severity is too great for Humour ; while the arts em- 
 ployed are not sufficiently expressed by Wit. Of pure play 
 upon words there is not much, except in the forcing of double 
 and triple rhymes. It is the originality of the situations 
 and the illustrative similitudes that produce the impression, 
 which, however, is weakened by the exaggeration and the 
 intense partisanship of the whole. It is not so much wit as 
 a severe reflection on mankind to say — 
 
 What makes all doctrines plain and clear ? 
 About two himdred pounds a year. 
 And that which was proved true before 
 Prove false again ? Two hundred more. 
 
 Butler's fertility of crushing similitudes is unsurpassed. 
 Thus— 
 
 13
 
 274 WIT EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 The truest characters of ignorance 
 Are vanitj-, and pride, and arrogance ; 
 As blind men use to bear their noses higher 
 Than those that have their eyes and sight entire. 
 
 Voltaire's famous saying on the execution of Admiral 
 Byng, for alleged cowardice in the face of the enemy, — that 
 it was done pour encoiirager les mitres, — is an exquisite play 
 upon words, with an under meaning of sarcastic contradic- 
 tion. The supposed defect of the admiral being ' courage,' 
 the word enamrager, by its etymology, would give the 
 remedy, ' to infuse courage ' ; by its acquired meaning, it is 
 in glaring contradiction to the use of capital punishment, 
 whose end is to deter in the highest degree. It is a witty 
 and crushing innuendo. 
 
 Congreve's comedies are one scene of vituperation and 
 ridicule, relieved by the arts of innuendo, irony and clever 
 comparison, and by a continuous display of point and wit in 
 expression. He succeeds in making almost tolerable his 
 sacrifice of every kindly relation of family and friendship to 
 an insatiable craving for witty depreciation. Nobody and 
 nothing is spared, till we simply forget the anti-social bent 
 in order to enjoy the language and the wit. A sentence 
 from ' The Way of the World,' aimed at a club of ladies, 
 might be extended to all the characters : — ' They come 
 together like the coroner's inquest, to sit upon the murdered 
 reputations of the week ' . 
 
 Here is a typical specimen of the feeling and the ex- 
 pression : — 
 
 '* Witwond. A messenger? — a mule, a beast of burden! 
 he has brought me a letter from the fool, my brother, as 
 heavy as a panegyric in a funeral sermon, or a copy of 
 commendatory verses from one poet to another : and what's 
 worse, 'tis as sure a forerunner of the author as an epistle 
 dedicatory. 
 
 " Mirahell. A fool, and your brother, Witwond ! 
 
 " Witwond. Ay, ay, my half brother. My half brother 
 he is, no nearer upon honour. 
 
 " MirahcU. Then 'tis possible he may be but half a fool." 
 
 Witwond desei'ves his fall, but this same Mirahell had 
 just before finished an invective on Witwond, suggested by 
 a casual praise of him that ' he has something of good-nature, 
 and does not always want wit '. 'Not always,' jibes Mii-a-
 
 CONGEEVE. — SHEBIDAN. — SYDNEY SMITH. 275 
 
 bell ; ' but as often as his memory fails him and his common- 
 place of comparisons. He is a fool with a good memory, 
 and some few scraps of other folk's wit. He is one whose 
 conversation can never be approved, yet it is now and then 
 to be endured. He has indeed one good quality, he is not 
 exceptions ; for he so passionately affects the reputation 
 of understanding raillery, that he will construe an affront into 
 a jest, and call downright rudeness and ill-language satire 
 and fire.' 
 
 Sheridan's various and sparkling "Wit was spread over 
 his speeches and his plays alike. The part of Mrs. Malaprop 
 in the Rivals is filled out by clever confusion of meanings 
 through similarity of sound. ' As headstrong as an allegory 
 on the banks of the Nile ' is witty and humorous by the un- 
 expected juxtaposition of the two meanings, with the efiect 
 of degrading the more dignified. Shakespeare, as well as 
 others, had exemplified the manner ; as when Falstaff is 
 declared by Mrs. Quickly to be ' in Arthur's bottom, if ever 
 man went to Arthur's bosom '. The device is now one of 
 the persisting species of comic invention. 
 
 Sydney Smith is entitled to the compliment of a wit ; 
 but his proper designation is as wide as the entire circle of 
 related qualities now under discussion His great powers 
 both as a Humorist and as a Wit were subservient to his 
 work as a political writer in a wide sense. He was also 
 distinguished as a man of society ; and many of his recorded 
 witticisms were thrown off in the course of conversation. 
 They seldom exemplified pure word-play ; they were usually 
 mixed up with ingenuity in the turn of the thought, and 
 were not to be imitated but by an equal force of genius. As 
 an example of the simple pun, we have his illustration of the 
 selfishness of Englishmen by the remark that they were dis- 
 tinguished more for the love of their specie than for the love 
 of their species. 
 
 His more usual style is the invention of situations, cir- 
 cumstances and illustrations, of a kind to enforce his views, 
 by their extravagant, or otherwise ridiculous character. The 
 originality suffices to give interest and piquancy ; and the 
 aptness drives the lesson home. The following is a charac- 
 teristic specimen : — 
 
 " We are terribly afraid that some Americans spit upon
 
 276 WIT EXEMPLIFIED, 
 
 the floor, even when that floor is covered by good carpets. 
 Now all claims to civilization are suspended till this secre- 
 tion is otherwise disposed of. No English gentleman has 
 spit vipon the floor since the Heptarchy." 
 
 To take another example : — 
 
 " Eailroad travelling is a delightful improvement of 
 human life. Man is become a bird ; he can liy longer and 
 quicker than a Solan goose. The mamma rushes sixty 
 miles in two hours to the aching finger of her conjugating 
 and declining grammar boy. The early Scotchman scratches 
 himself in the morning mists of the North, and has his por- 
 ridge in Piccadilly before the setting sun. The Puseyite 
 priest, after a rush of a hundred miles, appears with his 
 little volume of nonsense at the breakfast of his bookseller." 
 
 His handling of the Deluge is equally characteristic of 
 his ingenuity in devising extreme illustrations : — 
 
 " It appears, also, that from thence (the Deluge) a great 
 alteration was made in the longe\dty of mankind, who, from 
 a range of seven or eight hundred years, which they enjoyed 
 before the flood, were confined to their present period of 
 seventy or eighty years. This epoch in the history of man 
 gave birth to the twofold division of the antediluvian and 
 the postdiluvian style of writing, the latter of which natu- 
 rally contracted itself into those inferior limits which were 
 better accommodated to the abridged duration of human life 
 ai^d literary labour. Now, to forget this event, — to write 
 without the fear of the deluge before his eyes, and to handle 
 a subject as if mankind could lounge over a pamphlet for 
 ten years, as before their submersion, — is to be guilty of the 
 most grievous error into which a writer can possibly fall." 
 
 In the Pennsylvanian Letters, all his power of illustra- 
 tion was used for invective, of which these letters still 
 remain one of our best modern examples. 
 
 Of the Court of Chancery he said — it ' was like a boa- 
 constrictor, which swallowed up the estates of English gen- 
 tlemen in haste, and digested them at leisure '. 
 
 One of his greatest efi'orts to set forth the comic side of 
 Oddity, is his account of the Natural Histoiy of Botany 
 Bay:— 
 
 " In this remote part of the earth, nature (having made 
 horses, oxen, ducks, geese, oaks, elms, and all regular and 
 useful productions, for the rest of the world) seems deter- 
 mined to have a bit of play, and amuse herself as she
 
 DOUGLAS JEREOLD. — THE IRISH BULL. 277 
 
 pleases. Accordingly, she makes cherries with the stone on 
 the outside, and a monstrous animal as tall as a grenadier, 
 with the head of a rabbit, a tail as big as a bedpost, 
 hopping along at the rate of five hops to a mile, with three 
 or four young kangaroos looking out of its false uterus to 
 see what is passing. Then comes a quadruped as big as a 
 large cat, with the eyes, colour and skin of a mole, and the 
 bill and webfeet of a duck — puzzling Dr. Shaw, and render- 
 ing the latter half of his life miserable, from the utter 
 inability to determine whether it was a bird or a beast. 
 Add to this a parrot, with the eyes of a sea-gull ; a skate, 
 with the head of a shark; and a bird of such monstrous 
 dimensions, that a side bone of it will dine three real carni- 
 vorous Englishmen ; together with many other productions 
 that agitate Sir Joseph Banks, and fill him with mingled 
 emotions of distress and delight." 
 
 The personalities at the expense of Dr. Shaw and Sir 
 Joseph Banks are typical of the best kind of humour — the 
 infliction of a kind of pain that is real in its way, but devoid 
 of positive harm. 
 
 The writings and sayings of Douglas Jerrold exemplify 
 nearly all the round of witty effects, and are a sufficient 
 repertory for testing both the definition and the rhetorical 
 canons of legitimate wit. The general tendency of his wit, 
 as of nearly all wit, is depreciatory, but he could also use it 
 in the enforcement of a truth. His observation upon the 
 work of a certain painter, described as mediocre, was — ' The 
 worst ochre that an artist can paint with '. * 
 
 The Irish Bull is a form of wit, accompanied with 
 humour. Its original start was intellectual weakness or 
 incapacity, such as belongs to children and the inferior 
 races. It is now a cultivated art ; by the support of inven- 
 tion, it has been found capable of supplying endless 
 touches of amusement, and even telling illustrations in 
 oratory. 
 
 In one form, it is a failure (real or assumed) to see the 
 higher or technical and acquired meanings of language. 
 An accused party is asked whether he is guilty or not 
 
 * The best collection of Jerrokl's conversational witticisms may l)e fonnd in 
 Mark Lemon's Jcst-Bouk—aii admirable collection of witty sayings from many sources.
 
 278 WIT EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 guilty, and replies, ' That is for you to find out . Another 
 answers to the same question : ' I must hear the evidence 
 first '. There is a real or affected ignoring of the technical 
 purpose of the interrogation. 
 
 The intellectual deficiency takes also the shape of inca- 
 pacity to grasp an entire situation : as when a patient com- 
 plained to his Doctor that an emetic would not stay on his 
 stomach ; the exceptional character of the drug being pur- 
 posely misconceived. 
 
 The keeping out of view correlative or implied circum- 
 stances is a frequent form of the Bull. The proposal to 
 lengthen a blanket by cutting off a piece from the bottom to 
 sew it to the top, is a familiar illustration. So, a cell has 
 so low a ceiling that you cannot stand up in it without 
 lying down. In Logic, there is a class of Fallacies of Re- 
 lativity, which would comprise a large number of Bulls. 
 
 Glaring self-contradiction is one pervading character of 
 Irish wit. Edgeworth, in his Essay on Bulls, popularized 
 this anecdote. Some one engaged in writing a letter, being 
 overlooked, concluded in the words — ' I would say more, but 
 a tall Irishman is reading over my shoulder every word I 
 w'rite'. ' You lie, you scoundrel,' said the Irishman. 
 
 America rejoices in an unlimited production of Humour 
 and Wit. Washington Irving took the lead. Sam Slick had 
 a run in the last generation. Lowell is distinguished for 
 witty Satire. Artemus Ward is a perpetual fountain of 
 oddities. Mark Twain illustrates most of the devices of 
 Humour, but he employs with special frequency the method 
 of making himself the object of ludicrous degradation. It 
 is his way also to convey interesting information and shrewd 
 reflections, though expressed in ways to provoke laughter ; 
 as in his records of travel. In the miscellaneous outpouring 
 of humour in the daily newspapers, the pun outnumbers 
 every other form; and the effect is in an equal proportion 
 derogatory. 
 
 Knickerhocher's lUstnry of New Ynrh, says Professor 
 Nichol, 'in point of pui-e originality, Irving's masterpiece, 
 is one of the richest farragos of fact, fancy and irony that 
 have ever issued from the press '. 
 
 Lowell's Bifj/ow rdpers are perpetual coruscations of 
 Wit ; but the underlying object is not enough concealed : 
 the autlior is too obviously a partisan, and, what is still
 
 AMERICAN HUMOUR AND WIT. 279 
 
 worse, a moralist. In his new volume, Heartease and Rue, 
 there is the following on a dinner-speech : — 
 
 'Tis a time for gay fancies, as fleeting and vain 
 
 As the whisper of foam-beads on fresh-poured champagne, 
 
 Since dinners, perhaps, were not strictly designed 
 
 For manceuvering the heavy dragoons of the mind. 
 
 When I hear your set speeches that start with a pop, 
 
 Then wander and maunder, too feeble to stop, 
 
 With a vague apprehension from popular rumour 
 
 There used to be somethmg by mortals called humour, 
 
 Beginning again when you thought they were done, 
 
 Respectable, sensible, weighing a ton. 
 
 And as near to the present occasions of men 
 
 As a Fast-Day discourse of the year eighteen-ten ; 
 
 I — well, I sit still, and my sentiments smother. 
 
 For am not I also a bore and a brother ? 
 
 The denunciation and satire is relieved by the two last lines 
 where he includes himself. (See Professor Nichol's review 
 of the American Wits and Humorists, and his criticism of 
 Emerson and Lowell in particular.)
 
 MELODY. 
 
 1. The Melody or Music of Language involves 
 both the Voice and the Ear. 
 
 What is hard to pronounce is not only disagreeable as a 
 vocal effort, but also painful to listen to. 
 
 2. Of the letters of the Alphabet, the abrupt con- 
 sonants are the most difdcult to utter ; the vowels, the 
 easiest. 
 
 As in movements generally, so with the voice, a sudden 
 jerk or stoppage is painful. The most jerky of all the let- 
 ters are the sharp mutes — p, t, k. Next are their aspirated 
 forms—/, th (thin), h. The corresponding fiat mutes are — 
 b, V ; d, th (thy) ; g : these are still easier, as allowing con- 
 tinuance of the voice ; the sudden check is absent. Thus, 
 above is easier than pict, pwjf ; gather than ait, heath. 
 
 The liquids, /, 7n, n, ng, r, and the sibilants, s, sh, z, zh, 
 are all continuous sounds, approaching in this respect to the 
 vowels; while w and y are a kind of consonant vowels. 
 There is no abruptness in rain, loom, sing, shame, leisure. 
 The Greek and Eoman languages (the Greek more) showed 
 a preference for the flat mutes, the liquids and the sibi- 
 lants ; and, for the most part, softened the sharp mutes, 
 especially p, t, k, by combination with the more flowing 
 letters, as clepsydra, prurient. 
 
 3. Words being made up of alternate vowels and 
 consonants, either singly, or in combinations, the more 
 abrupt consonants are most easily pronounced when 
 single, and when alternating with long vowels. They 
 then favour rapidity of movement. 
 
 The words picket, capital, alternate sharp mutes and 
 short vowels ; the presence of one or more long vowels gives 
 greater ease to the voice, as in tapioca, tape, peat.
 
 ARRANGEMENT OF LETTERS AND SYLLABLES. 281 
 
 The un-abrupt consonants — flat mutes, liquids and 
 sibilants — are easiest with long vowels. 
 
 Compare lame with lemon, rouse with russet. So azure, fire. 
 
 4. As regards both individual words and successions 
 of words, the easiest arrangement, generally speaking, 
 is to alternate a single consonant and a single vowel : 
 — as, recitahility, inimical, a lazy hoy, a good analysis, a 
 palinode. 
 
 The more complex arrangements arise by accumulation 
 of Consonants and Vowels. 
 
 (1) Clash and Cumulation of Consonants. This occurs 
 in three forms : — 
 
 (a) The union of sharp mutes with liquids and sibilants : 
 as tn'fie, first, risk, proclaim. 
 
 This contributes to ease of pronunciation. The abrupt- 
 ness of the sharp mutes disappears in the fusion with a 
 continuing sound. 
 
 Even this form of coalescence rather adds to the diffi- 
 culty of pronouncing short vowels : pat is easier than prat. 
 On the other hand, with long vowels, the arrangement gives 
 birth to our most agreeable combinations : prayer, dimh, 
 break, fl(nver. 
 
 {h) The union of two sharp mutes : as mpftij-e. This 
 makes pronunciation difficult. Still worse is the combina- 
 tion of the corresponding pair of sharp and flat mutes : as 
 ujj by. 
 
 Even an intervening vowel, if short, does not make this 
 vocal effort easy, as may be seen in pab, reg, tod. It takes 
 either a long vowel, or union with a liquid or sibilant, to 
 overcome the pain of the exertion. 
 
 The farther cumulation is carried, the greater the effort 
 in pronouncing ; qualified only by the fusion with the con- 
 tinuous consonants. The name Aitkman is pronounceable 
 with great difficulty. Volkmann is easier. Swift's Brobdig- 
 naf/ian is purposely made hard to pronounce. Triple combi- 
 nations in general are necessarily trying to the voice : 
 scratched, strengthened, twelfthJy, pnhst, conchs, bankrupt. 
 
 Similarly, a series of polysyllables is usually objection- 
 able : it can hardly be melodious in the unforced pronounc- 
 ing of prose, because the proportion of unaccented syllables 
 is too high to be easy. In ordinary cases, the rule for 
 melody is to alternate long and short words.
 
 282 MELODY. 
 
 Keats has this instance : " Thou seem'dst my sister". 
 
 ((•) A syllable break, and the pause between two words, 
 are valuable in lightening the vocal effort. In this way, even 
 four consonants may come together : priestcraft triumj^hant is 
 pronounceable by taking advantage of the syllable and word 
 pauses. 
 
 When the same consonant ends one word and begins 
 another, the effect is harsh : heep people, come more, hrief fate, 
 hear rigid, dress sins. 
 
 The effort is easier according as the two differ : brief 
 petition, cut dead, let these, comes(z) soft, marine stores. 
 
 A liquid and a mute, or tw^o different liquids, are pro- 
 nounced without difficulty ; being next in point of ease to 
 the alternation of vowel and consonant.* 
 
 (2) Clash and cumulation of vowels. The disagreeable 
 effect thus produced is known as hiatus ; to avoid it between 
 words, the elision of the first vowel was practised in Latin 
 verse. 
 
 Whether inside a word, or between one word and 
 another, the clash of vow^els is disagreeable. The worst 
 case is the concurrence of the same vowel : as co-operate, 
 
 * The importance for purposes of Melorty of avoiding tlie cumulation of 
 consonants may be enforced by the practice of Milton, as shown in the following 
 quotation from Professor Masson : — 
 
 " Milton evidently made a study of that quality of style which Bentham called 
 'pronunciability '. His fine ear nut only taught him to seek for musical effects and 
 cailences at large, but also to be fastidious as to syllables, and to avoid harsh or 
 flifficult conj<mctions of consonants, except wlien there might be a musical reason 
 for harshness or difficulty. In the management of the letter «, the frequency of 
 which in English is one of the faults of the speech, he will be found, I believe, most 
 careful and skilful. ^lore rarely, I think, than in Shaki'speare will one word ending 
 in s be found followed immediately in Milton by another word beginning with the 
 same letter ; or, if he does oicasionally pen such a phrase as ' Moab's sons,' it will 
 be difficult to find in him, I believe, such a harsher example as tarth's substance, of 
 which many writers wmdd tliink notliing. The same delicacy of ear is even more 
 apparent in his management of the .1/1 .sound. He has it often, of course ; but it may 
 be noted that lie rejects it in his verse when he can. lie writes Bason for Bashati 
 (/'. L, I. :i9S), Killini for Sliillin, (P. L., I. 4i:J), Silnh for Shiloli {S. A., 1674), Asdod for 
 Ashildil (S. A., 981), <i'c. Still more, Imwever, does he seem to have been wary of the 
 compound -sound cli as in chinrh. Of his sensitiveness to this sound in excess there 
 is a curious proof in his prose pamphlet entitled An Apnlofji/ariainst a Pamphlet called 
 a M'liUst Ciiniiiiaiion, Ac, where, having occasion to quote these lines from one of 
 the Satires of bis opponent, Bishop Half, 
 
 ' Teach each hollow grove to sound his love. 
 Wearying echo with one changeless word,' 
 
 ho adds, ironically, ' an<l so he well might, and all his auditory besides, with his 
 teach each!' There can be little doubt, 1 tliink, that it was to avoid this teach each 
 that he took tlie liberty of Miltonizing the good old English word vouchsafe into 
 voulsal'e" (Masson's MiUnn, Xn], I., p. liv.). 
 
 Yet Milton i)ermits himself to use the following remarkable succession of 
 sibilants ; — 
 
 Seems wi«e«t, virtuousest, discreetest, be.<it. 
 
 —(.Pay. Lost, VIII. 550.)
 
 CONDITION OF VARIETY. 283 
 
 you iim'fp, pofafo only, blow over, Muria Ann. The difficulty 
 is mitigated according as the vowels differ, but is never 
 quite removed. Examples : poet, bowels, idea, hiatus, create, 
 re-assume, co-equal, lively oracles, pity us. Compare my idea 
 also of it, with my notion at any rate. 
 
 In the clash of vowels, it is better that one should 
 be short and the other long, or one emphatic and the other 
 not : as go on, the ear. When the precedes an unemphatic 
 syllable (beginning with a vowel), we are obhged to make it 
 emphatic, the endeavour. 
 
 Long vowels out of accent need an effort to pronounce : 
 contribute, Portugal, reprobate, u-idoiv. A pause or prolonga- 
 tion helps us out of the difficulty ; and, accordingly, we feel 
 disposed to pronounce such words with greater deliberation : 
 as in holiday, palinode. 
 
 The melodious flow of speech is dependent upon the 
 lengthening out of the pronunciation through the presence 
 of long vowels and continuing consonants. Eapidity and 
 ease can be given by the alternation of abrupt consonants 
 and short vowels; but it is hardly possible to introduce 
 musical tone without the means of delaying and prolonging 
 the vocal strain ; as may be seen from the examples at 
 large. Our language cannot be continuously intoned like 
 the Italian. 
 
 5. The sounds of speech are no exception to the 
 demand for Variety. 
 
 Our alphabet may be said to contain 23 consonants, 14 
 vowels in accent, with the same out of accent, and diph- 
 thongs. The richness in vowels is unusual. The Latin 
 language possesses only five vowels, while these are desti- 
 tute of our variations of long and short. The first stanza of 
 Gray's 'Elegy' nearly exhausts the copiousness of our vowel 
 range, and is correspondingly agreeable to the ear. 
 
 So imperious is the demand for variety, that even the 
 difficult and harsh combinations of letters may be brought 
 in as an agreeable variety, after a succession of smooth and 
 liquid sounds. Monotony in sweetness is the most painful 
 of all. 
 
 The term Alliteration is employed to signify the com- 
 mencing of successive words with the same letter or syllable. 
 Unless when carried out on a set purpose, it offends the
 
 284 MELODY. 
 
 ear : as long live Lewis, come conqueror, convenient contrivance. 
 
 The horn of the hunter is heard on the lull. 
 
 Equally unpleasing are iterations within words or at the end 
 of words : indulgent parent, uniform formality, instead of a 
 steady : he is tempted to attempt. 
 
 Even a short interval is not enough to allow the repeti- 
 tion of very marked sounds : as ' I confess with humility, 
 the sterility of my fancy, and the debility of my judgment '. 
 ' What is of more importance, the principles being pro- 
 pounded with revere/ice, had an influence on the subsequent 
 jurisprudence.' ' The art of politics consists, or would con- 
 sist if it existed ; ' ' taking such directions as to awaken 
 pleasing recollections.' 
 
 One legitimate use of alliteration is to lend emphasis 
 and to impress the meaning : as, good government ; sense 
 and sensibility; cribb'd, cabin'd and confined; sad and 
 slow; a heart to resolve, a head to combine, and a hand 
 to execute ; resolved to ruin or to rule the state ; waste 
 not, want not. 
 
 Ehpnes and other similarities of sound are used for the 
 same purpose; as, the fame of your name; mend it or 
 end it ; Trinity in Unity.* 
 
 It is also an effect in poetry, as in Shelley's ' Cloud '. 
 "When expected, it falls under a mode of pleasure, the plea- 
 sure of regularity. (See Alliteration.) 
 
 In English, the endings ion, ing, ity, ly, nee, and ed, are 
 unavoidably frequent ; and it is desirable to obviate the con- 
 sequent repetition and monotony. The verb ending ed 
 painfully recurs ; hence the value of our small number of 
 old verbs as a rehef : ' given and received ' ; ' I came, I saw, 
 I conquered ' . 
 
 The following are additional examples including various 
 kinds of disagreeable iteration of sound : — ' That is «/so 
 f/Ztered'. ' It was Peel that re/>eaZed the Corn Laws.' * He 
 mxitatcd it at once.' ' An ignorant impa^/ence of the relaxa- 
 tion of taxrt//on.' ' To pe?Tnanently iiwpair the power of the 
 Peers.' 
 
 Keats has the phrase ' the winowing icind ' — a threefold 
 
 • The rationale of this use of Alliteration is that it aids in pointing some con- 
 trast or accentuating some balance ; whereas, in the absence of any such occasion 
 for it, its presence is disagreeable, as giving tlie ear the form of pointing and ac- 
 centuation, while disappointing the uiind of the contrast or balance in meaning 
 usually associated with foini.
 
 ALTEENATION IN EMPHASIS AND LENGTH. 285 
 
 iteration of syllables nearly the same. In Johnson's line — ■ 
 
 To hurled merit raise the tardy bust — 
 there is monotony of vowels and similarity of consonants. 
 
 6. As regards both the succession of Syllables in the 
 same word, and the succession of words iu the sentence, 
 an additional circumstance comes into play; namely, 
 the due alternation of emphatic and unemphatic, and 
 of long and short. 
 
 As our language usually admits of but one primai-y 
 accent in a word, words of many syllables are usually hard 
 to pronounce ; hence we avoid lengthening words by 
 numerous prefixes or endings : unsuecf'.ssfulv.ess, i)iiremptori- 
 ness, wrong] lead edness, err in this respect. 
 
 "Words containing a string of unaccented short vowels 
 are a trial to the voice : as immarily, cursorily, summarUy, 
 derisorily. Still worse is the repetition of the same letter or 
 syllable : as farriery, loiolily, holily, semhlahle. The difficulty 
 is in many cases relieved by the introduction of a secondary 
 accent. For e^d^m^le, jvommciation, crystallization, secondarily^ 
 have such a secondary accent on the syllables nun, crys, ar, 
 and the result is to render the utterance of the words much 
 easier. Valudessness is a disagreeable word : it has many 
 unaccented syllables, alliteration of syllables, and similarity 
 of sounds. 
 
 This circurastance has important bearings on the melody 
 of composition, both prose and verse; in Enghsh verse, 
 indeed, it is the greatest part of the science, as will be 
 seen presently. This is so, because the alternate stress 
 and remission of the voice is essential to easy and agree- 
 able pronunciation. It is the effect that is referred to by 
 the term rhythm, whether in verse or in prose. The four 
 modes of accented and unaccented, long and short, give both 
 alternation and variation. In the line — ' The pomp and 
 circumstance of glorious war ' — there is an alternation of the 
 accented and unaccented syllables, and a further contrast in 
 the long vowels of the two last words ; while the succession 
 of vowels and consonants, and the variety of both, enhance 
 the melody. 
 
 In the following sentences the disagreeable effect of allite- 
 ration is increased by the closeness of the accented syllables : 
 — ' It stood on a rocky peninsula, round wliich the waves of
 
 286 MELODY. 
 
 the hay broke ' (Macaulay). ' The party will advocate large 
 local liberties' So with other iterations of sound ; for in- 
 stance, ' Here it is impossible even to suggest jiidiijing il- 
 lustrations '. 
 
 It is from the want of this due alternation that a series 
 of monosyllables is usually objectionable : as ' good Lord 
 give us bread now ' : where, except ' us,' every word is 
 under emphasis, rendering the pronunciation heavy. If, 
 however, there be an even distribution of un emphatic words, 
 the bad effect does not arise. ' Bless the Lord of hosts, for 
 He is good to us,' is not unmelodious ; every second word 
 is unaccented. So in * Macbeth ' : — 
 
 Stars, hide your fires, 
 Let not light see my black and deep desires, 
 The eye wink at the hand. Yet let that be, 
 Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. 
 
 In ordinary cases, melody arises through the alternation 
 of long and short words. A string of long words is seldom 
 melodious. 
 
 7. The Close of a Sentence should allow the voice 
 to fall by degTees. 
 
 This happens when the concluding syllable is long, and 
 when it ends with a continuing consonant, as decree, appear. 
 With a short vowel, there is still more necessity for con- 
 tinuing consonants to follow : as mankind, forth, world. 
 ' The age of chivalry is gone ' has an emphatic and sonorous 
 close ; ' got ' would be intolerable. 
 
 Another admissible close is by one or more unemphatic 
 syllables : as liberty. ' A mockery, a dehisiun, and a snare,' 
 gives a triplet of words all suited to close a sentence. 
 
 Very long words do not make a melodious close : as 
 intimidation , irresistible. 
 
 The worst kind of ending is an emphatic syllable with 
 a short vowel and an abrupt consonant : as ' he came up '. 
 A monosyllable is not necessarily a bad close. It may be 
 unemphatic, as often happens with the pronoun 'it,' and 
 with the prepositions, 'of,' 'to,' 'for,' &c. ; or it may have 
 liquid or other consonants that protract the sound : as ease, 
 saint', sliiiie. '•' 
 
 * The biographer of Roliert Ilall pives the following anecdote in connexion 
 with the jiriiitinR of his famous sermon on Muiiern Intiilehty. After writing tlown 
 the striking apostrophe--' Eternal God! on what are Thine" enemies intent! what 
 are those enterprises of guilt and horror, that, for the safety of their performers,
 
 EEGULAR BECUEEENCE OF PAUSES. 287 
 
 8. With the view to a good melodious effect, the 
 pauses of the voice must recur with some measure of 
 regularity in the sentences. 
 
 This is of great importance in verse ; but it has also a 
 place in the melody of prose, though impossible to be re- 
 duced to rule. 
 
 A certain measure of balance is required in the length of 
 the clauses, or other portions divided by the pauses of the 
 voice. In particular, the last clause can seldom be notably 
 short in comparison with the rest, except for special em- 
 phasis. For example : — ' The real blemishes will soon be 
 detected and condemned by, we may hope, a tolerably 
 unanimous consent of the best scholars ; and enumerated '. 
 The ear demands a longer final clause to balance the pre- 
 ceding ; thus : ' and, let us hope, they will be fully and 
 carefully enumerated '. 
 
 ' The effect will be, in great measure, if not entirely, 
 lost ' (Whately). A pause is required after 'entirely,' and 
 hence the ear expects more to come after it than the one 
 word ' lost '. Try a lengthening of it, and relief is obtained : 
 ' lost for any important purpose ' . 
 
 In the Balanced Sentence, there is a pleasure in the 
 sound as well as in the meaning.* 
 
 Examples. 
 
 Johnson says, ' Tediousness is the most fatal of all 
 faults'. The stiffness of this sentence is felt at once. On 
 examination, we note, 1st, The want of melody in the word 
 ' tediousness,' from the crowd of consonants, the vowel 
 hiatus, and the iteration of s. 2nd, The additional hiss- 
 ing consonant in 'is'. 3rd, The occurrence of five un- 
 
 require to be enveloped in a darkness which the eye of heaven must not penetrate !' 
 — he asked, ' Did I say penettate. Sir, when I preached it ?' ' Yes ' ' Do you tliink, 
 Sir, I may venture to alter it ? for no man who considered the force of tlie English 
 language would use a word of three syllables there, but from absolute necessity.' 
 ' You are doubtless at liberty to alter it, if you think well.' ' Then be so good. Sir, 
 to take your pencil, and for penetrate put pierce ; pierce is the word, Sir, and the only 
 word to be used there.' 
 
 * When the language of prose becomes more elevated, and so approaches to 
 poetry, there is a tendency to make the accents follow in more regular succession. 
 Take this sentence from Robert Hall :— ' From niyii^uls of humble, contrite hearts, 
 the voice of intercession, supplication, and weeping will mingle in its ascent to 
 heaven with the shouts of battle and the .sliock of arms '. Here, while the number 
 of syllables between the accents is not uniform, as in poetry, yet, if the unaccented 
 intervals are measured by the time occupied in good reading, it will be found that 
 the accents recur with almost perfect regularity.
 
 288 MELODY EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 emphatic syllables in succession — namely, the last three in 
 ' tediousness,' and 'is the': it might also be said that 
 'most ' is unemphatic. 4th, The additional s in most. 5th, 
 The concurrence of consonants at the end of ' most ' and the 
 beginning of ' fatal ' : this cannot always be avoided. 6th, 
 The alliterations ' fataZ a//,' '/atal/aults,' ' all faults,' make 
 the last few words singularly unmelodious. 
 
 ' So loud the roar rose of that battle of gods.' The 
 stiffness is at once felt, and is all the worse in a sentence of 
 such rhetorical form, where musical language is specially 
 desirable. The collocation, roar rose, is specially objection- 
 able on the ground of alliteration and the iteration of the 
 same vowel, the disagreeable effect being aggravated by the 
 fact that both words have strong emphasis upon them, and 
 no unaccented syllable. 
 
 'Why thrusfst thou me thee fro?' (Scotch Metrical 
 Psalms). The consonantal combination in ' thvusfst thou' 
 is exceptionally harsh from the nature, similarity and 
 number of the consonants. The vowel repetition in * me 
 thee ' increases the disagreeable sound ; and the awkwardly 
 inverted and abbre\aated form, 'thee fro,' though not a point 
 of melody, completes the uncouthness. 
 
 ' Amyas stood still steering' (Kingsley). An alliteration 
 of sibilants is the most disagreeable of all ; but here the 
 effect is brought into marked prominence by the strong 
 emphasis on each word, and the absence of unaccented 
 syllables between. 
 
 Compare Browning's alliteration, similarly aggravated; — 
 
 And I— soon managed to find 
 
 Weak points in the flower — fence facing 
 Now morning from her orient chamber came 
 And her first footsteps touch'd a verdant hill. — (Keats.) 
 
 In these lines there is both monotony of sounds and allitera- 
 tion ; ' morning from her orient ' (o the only accented 
 vowel ; consonants m, n, r repeated) ; ' clvanhev came ' ; 
 ^f\Yxt /oot.v/ep.s' /ouched ' (/ in alliteration, st three times) ; 
 ' her f/>st '. There is heaviness besides in the accented 
 syllables following each other in the words ' first footsteps 
 touch'd '. 
 
 Thomson, speaking of the city, says : — 
 
 And, stretching street on street, by thousands drew, 
 From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew 
 To bows strong-straming, her aspiring sons.
 
 NEWMAN. — EUSKIN. 289 
 
 The lines are heavy, and may be examined with reference 
 both to rhythmical succession and to consonantal combina- 
 tions. 
 
 In the two following verses, we may note both the 
 melodious succession of the alphabetical sounds, and the 
 vowel variety which our language enables us to compass : 
 ' Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the 
 eyes to behold the sun '. ' How art thou fallen from 
 heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning.' The alternations of 
 vowel and consonant here are favourable to melody ; while, 
 as regards variety, nine distinct vowels can be counted in 
 each. The authorized version of the Bible derives much of 
 its charm from its Melody, 
 
 A fine melody is traceable through the following sen- 
 tence from Newman : — ' And now thy very face and form, 
 dear mother, speak to us of the Eternal ; not like earthly 
 beauty, dangerous to look upon, but like the morning star, 
 which is thy emblem, bright and musical, breathing of 
 purity, telling of heaven and infusing peace '. So with 
 this : — ' Avoid, I say, enquiry else, for it will but lead you 
 thither, where there is no light, no peace, no hope ; it will 
 lead you to the deep pit, v^here the sun, and the moon, and 
 the stars, and the beauteous heavens are not, but chilliness 
 and barrenness and perpetual desolation '. 
 
 Less perfect, but still notable, is the flow in the follow- 
 ing sentence from Euskin (the analysis of its strong and 
 weak points will make a good exercise) : — ' Paths that for 
 ever droop and rise over the green banks and mounds 
 sweeping down in scented undulations, steep to the blue 
 water studded here and there with new-mown heaps, filling 
 all the air with fainter sweetness, — look up towards the 
 higher hills, where the waves of everlasting green roll 
 silently into their long inlets among the shadows of the 
 pines '. 
 
 ' The men that gave their country liberty,' is melodi- 
 ous from the variety of the vowels and consonants, and 
 from the suitable fall, although the combiiiation ' iliat gave ' 
 is somewhat heavy, and there is an iteration of sound in 
 the two last words. 
 
 ' They often save, and always illustrate, the age and 
 nation in which they appear,' is a good example of prose 
 melody from the alternation of accented and unaccented 
 syllables ; it departs from the strict regularity of verse, and
 
 290 MELODY EXEMPLIFIED, 
 
 yet secures an easy movement. There is also great variety 
 in the sounds, and an unusual avoidance of the clash of 
 consonant with consonant, and of vowel with vowel, in the 
 succession of the words. 
 
 The following sentence violates nearly all the rules : — 
 ' Proud and vain-glorious, swelled with lofty anticipations 
 of his destiny, no danger could appal and no toil tire 
 him '. 
 
 The expression — ' strikes at that ethereal and soft 
 essence,' has an agi'eeable effect from the alternation of 
 the accent (interrupted only in ' soft essence '), and from the 
 good transitions between the words. 
 
 Tliere are many admired passages whose beauty lies 
 chiefly in the melody of the words. In the opening stanza 
 of the ' Battle of Copenhagen ' — 
 
 Of Nelson and the North 
 
 Sing tlie glorious day's renown. 
 When to battle fierce went forth 
 
 All the might of Denmark's crown — 
 
 the happy poetic inversion and the emotional keeping of 
 the language are supported and enhanced by the melody. 
 
 A considerable part of the effect of Macpherson's Ossian 
 depends on the music of its language, which is often very 
 apparent. 
 
 Milton's ' old man eloquent ' is a stroke of mere arrange- 
 ment, with a melodious cii'ect. 
 
 Jonson's ' Drink to me only with thine eyes ' is highly 
 melodious ; the clash of the two th's is an exception, but 
 does not spoil the agreeable lightness of the movement. 
 
 ' The womb of uncreated night ' is one of Milton's 
 melodious arrangements. 
 
 Keats gives many studies in this connexion. For ex- 
 ample : — 
 
 Spenserian vowels that elope with ease. 
 
 Tennyson's couplet — 
 
 Vex not thou the poet's mind 
 With thy shallow wit — 
 
 is, for him, unusually thick and heavy ; the explanation 
 being obvious. The fourfold repetition of the /// sound is 
 aggravated by the two placings — ' thou the,' ' with thy '.
 
 IMITATION OF SOUNDS. 291 
 
 HAEMONY OF SOUND AND SENSE. 
 
 1. It is possible to make the Sound of the language 
 an echo to the Sense. 
 
 This is a special and notable instance of the pervading 
 principle of Harmony. 
 
 2. The effect is most easily attained when the 
 subject-matter is sound. 
 
 Words, being themselves sounds, can imitate sounds. 
 Our language (like others) contains many examples of 
 imitative names, as 'whizz,' 'buzz,' 'burr,' 'hiss,' 'crash,' 
 'racket,' 'whistle,' 'splash,' 'wash,' 'scrunch,' 'munch,' 
 ' thunder,' 'boom'. 
 
 By the invention of such words Browning imitates very 
 closely the sounds of the drum and the fife : — 
 
 Bang-whang-wha7ig goes the drum, and tootle-te-tootlc the fife. 
 
 The imitation can be still further extended in a suc- 
 cession of words. Homer's line, near the beginning of the 
 Iliad, describing the sea, is celebrated as an instance. The 
 ' hoarse Trinacrian shore ' is a similar attempt, one of many 
 in Milton. The grating noise of the opening of Hell's gates 
 
 is described thus : — 
 
 On a sudden open fly. 
 With impetuous recoil and jarring sound, 
 The infernal doors ; and on their hinges grate 
 Harsh thunder. 
 
 Contrast the opening of Heaven's doors : — 
 
 Heaven opened wide 
 Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound. 
 On golden hinges turning. 
 
 Discordant sounds are effectively described in the line 
 
 from ' Lycidas ' : — 
 
 Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw. 
 
 The sounds of a battle in former times are represented 
 
 by the language thus : — 
 
 Arms on armour clashing, bray'd 
 Horrible discord ; and the maddening wheels 
 Of brazen fury raged. 
 
 The following is from Byron's ' Falls of Terni ' : — 
 The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height 
 Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice ; 
 The fall of waters ! rapid as the light 
 The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ;
 
 292 SOUND AND SENSE. 
 
 The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss, 
 And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat 
 Of their great agony, WTung out from tliis 
 Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet 
 That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, 
 
 And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again 
 Returns in an miceasing shower, which round, 
 With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain, 
 Is an eternal April to the ground, 
 Making it all one emerald. 
 
 Compare the well-known lines of Soiithey on Lodore. 
 
 By the use of sibilants Whittier suggests the ripple on 
 
 the sea-shore : — 
 
 And so beside the silent sea 
 I wait the mufitled oar. 
 
 Tennyson describes the roaring of the sea by the reitera- 
 tion of the letter r : — 
 
 Those wild eyes that watch the wave 
 In j-oarings round the coral reef. 
 
 Poe employs the sibilants to express a rustling sound : — 
 And the silken sad tmcertain rustling of each purple curtain, 
 
 3. Imitation by language extends to movements. 
 
 A series of long syllables, or of words under accent, with 
 the frequent occurrence of the voice-prolonging consonants, 
 being necessarily slow to pronounce, is appropriate to the 
 description of slow and laboured movement. As in Pope's 
 couplet on the Iliad : — 
 
 When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, 
 The line too labours, and the words move slow. 
 
 Of the ten syllables in the first line, only two (when, to) 
 can be rapidly pronounced ; all the rest, for some reason or 
 other, detain the voice. In the second, the two the's are the 
 only short syllables. Moreover, the clash betvv^een words is 
 retarding. 
 
 The opposite arrangement — that is to say, an abundance 
 of short and unaccented syllables, and the more abrupt 
 consonants alternated with the vowels, by making the 
 pronunciation rapid, liglit and easy, corresponds to quick- 
 ness of motion in the subject. 
 
 This harmony is finely brought out by Gray in the 
 ' Ode to Spring' : —
 
 EXPBESSION OP MOVEMENTS. 293 
 
 Yet hark ! how through the peopled air 
 The busy murmur glows ! 
 The insect youth are on the wing, 
 Eager to taste the honied Sprmg, 
 And float amid the liquid noon ; 
 Some lightly o'er the current skim, 
 Some shew their gaily-gUded trim, 
 Quick-glancing to the sim. 
 
 The lines in the Iliad describing Sisyphus are an admired 
 example in the Greek, and the effect is aimed at by the 
 English translators. 
 
 With many a weary step, and many a groan. 
 
 Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone ; 
 
 The huge round stone resulting with a bound, 
 
 Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground. 
 
 Up to the middle of the . third line, we have the slow 
 laborious motion ; then the change to the rapid and im- 
 petuous descent. (See Gladstone's Homeric Primer, p. 143.) 
 
 Besides marking the difference of quick and slow, the 
 measure of language may indicate various modes of motion, 
 as in the expression ' Troy's turrets tottered,' where there is 
 a sort of resemblance to the vibratory action of a building 
 about to tumble. 
 
 The gliding motion of the clouds is expressed by the use 
 of the liquid consonants in these lines of Keats : — 
 
 And let the clouds of even and of morn 
 Float in voluptuous fleeces o'er the liills. 
 
 Compare a similar use of the liquids here : — 
 
 what can ail thee, knight-at-arms. 
 Alone and palely loitering ? 
 
 Here Tennyson's ingenuity is conspicuous. The move- 
 ment of a wave at the beach is described — 
 
 Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep 
 And full of voices, slowly rose and plimged 
 Roaring. 
 
 The following explains itself : — 
 
 Then would he whistle, rapid as any lark. 
 
 In many passages, the effect combines sound and motion, 
 as: — 
 
 Tumbling all precipitate down dash'd. 
 
 So, in Pope's famous lines : — 
 
 If nature thundered in our opening ears 
 
 And stunned us with the music of the spheres.
 
 294 SOUND AND SENSE. 
 
 The word ' stunned,' by its short emphasis, well expresses 
 the effect of a stunning blow. 
 
 Obstructed movement is readily responded to by the 
 march of the language, as iu the second of the lines on 
 Sisyphus. 
 
 4. Huge, unwieldy hulk implies slowness of move- 
 ment, and may be expressed by similar language : — 
 
 O'er all the dreary coasts 
 So stretched out, huge in length, the arch-fiend lay. 
 
 But ended foul in many a scaly fold 
 Voluminous and vast. 
 
 5. It is through combined sound and movement 
 that language can harmonize with specific feelings. 
 
 This element of poetic beauty appears in our oldest 
 poeti-y — notably in Homer. 
 
 The soothing spirit of a lullaby is expressed by Shake- 
 speare through the use of the liquid consonants : — 
 
 Philomel, with melody, 
 Sing in our sweet lullaby ; 
 Lulla, luUa, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby ; 
 Never harm, nor spell nor charm. 
 Come our lovely lady nigh : 
 So, good night, with lullaby. 
 
 Goldsmith, in the opening line of the Traveller, suggests 
 
 the feeling of sadness by the slow movement of the verse : — 
 
 Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow. 
 
 Wordsworth, in his lines ' At the Grave of Burns,' aims 
 at the same effect in a succession of heavy syllables, in- 
 tensified by a strong alliteration : — 
 
 Oh ! spare to sweep, thou moiurnful blast, 
 His grave grass-grown. 
 
 In expressing the feeling of hopelessness, Tennyson 
 employs a harsh rhythm, the harshness increased by 
 alliteration : — 
 
 And ghastly through the drizzling rain 
 On the bald street breaks the blank day. 
 
 The different measures of poetry are suited to different 
 passions. Lively movements belong to cheerful emotions, 
 slow movements to melancholy. The languishing reluctance 
 of the spirit to quit the earth is finely expressed in the 
 movement of Gray's stanza, beginning — 
 
 For who to dumb forgctfulness a prey ?
 
 SOUND HABMONIZING WITH FEELINGS. 295 
 
 Tennyson is very notable for his skill under this head. 
 The following stanzas are from ' A Dream of Fair Women' : — 
 
 Slowly my sense undazzled. Then I heard 
 A noise of some one coming thro' the lawn, 
 
 Aiid singing clearer than the crested bird 
 That claps his wings at dawn. 
 
 She lock'd her lips ; she left me where I stood : 
 ' Glory to God, ' she sang, and past afar, 
 
 Thridding the sombre boskage of the wood 
 Toward the morning star. 
 
 In both stanzas, the independent effect of each set of 
 somads and movements is enhanced by an opening contrast. 
 In Browning's ' How they brought the Good News from 
 Ghent to Aix,' we have an example of a rapid measure well 
 employed to express rapid motion and intensity of feeling. 
 In Dryden's ' Alexander's Feast,' the measure is constantly 
 varied in order to suit the action and the feeling expressed. 
 
 VERSIFICATION AND METEE. 
 
 Metre is the regular recurrence of similar groujDS of 
 accented syllables at short intervals. 
 
 Essential alike to prose and to poetry is the alterna- 
 tion of accented and unaccented syllables. When the 
 voice has made a strong effort, it must be relaxed prior to a 
 similar exertion. 
 
 This demand is answered both by alternating the syl- 
 lables in accent with those out of accent, and by short pauses 
 and stops, amounting to a total rest of the vocal organs. 
 The modes of meeting these requirements admit of the 
 largest variety, and contribute greatly to the charm of 
 language. 
 
 When the accent is found to recur at regular intervals 
 within a series of words or syllables, as in these examples — 
 
 He plants' | his foot'|steps in' | the sea' — 
 
 What' though you | tell' me each [ gay* little | rover — 
 
 each of the groups receives the name of a Measure. We 
 have different measures according to the extent of the 
 groups and the place of the accent within them. 
 
 Between two accented Syllables in English words, there 
 can lie one, or two, but not more than two, unaccented
 
 296 VERSIFICATION AKD METRE. 
 
 syllables/'- This applies either to single words, or to groups 
 or successions of words. Consequently, under any arrange- 
 ment, the first accent must occur not beyond the third 
 syllable. Within these limits, five distinct positions, giving 
 rise to five measures, are possible : two, where the accent 
 recurs on alternate syllables, three where the accent recurs 
 on every third syllable. These positions give their measures 
 the names Dissyllabic and Trisyllabic, and are typified by 
 single words like these— (1) a'ble ; (2) ago'; (3) pret'tily ; 
 (4) discern'ing ; (5) reprimand'. 
 
 The various regularly accented groups, or measures, 
 which involve these different recurrences, are repeated to 
 form verses. A verse is determined in length by the number of 
 the repetitions. These, for practical purposes, are seldom 
 fewer than two (the dimeter), or more than eight. Often, in 
 the case of the 1st and 3rd measures, in which the accent 
 falls on the first syllable, the last measm'e of the verse is 
 shortened by the omission of the unaccented part ; in like 
 manner, the closing unaccented syllable of the 4th measure 
 may drop away. On the other hand, the 2nd and 5th, 
 accenting on the last, may be supplemented at the end by 
 an additional unaccented syllable, more rarely, two, forming 
 no part of any new measure. Licenses are admissible in all. 
 Occasionally it happens that one measure, as, for example, 
 the 1st, is introduced into a verse made up of the 2nd ; 
 variety and greater emphasis being thereby obtained. This 
 liberty is taken still more frequently in the Tx-isyllabic 
 measure ; where, too, the dropping out of unaccented 
 syllables is far from uncommon. The interchange of dactyls, 
 anapaests and spondees in certain of the classical metres is 
 a parallel case. 
 
 It is not to be lost sight of, that great liberty is taken -with 
 accentuation. For the purpose of speaking, no word, however 
 long, has more than one principal accent: e.g., ' myste'riously,' 
 ' hu'manised'. Yet in Robert Buchanan {City of Dream) we get — 
 
 Was now' mystc'rious'ly hn'manis'ed ; 
 
 so — 
 and- 
 
 Inton'ing or'acles' and stu' dying' ; 
 Inhe'ritors' of im'morta'lity'. 
 
 • Such lines as the following do occur : — 
 
 Our ar'my lies' rea'd.v to give up' the ghost'.— ('Julius Csesar.') 
 This is the only acansion that -will preserve the blank verse rhythm.
 
 LIBEETIES WITH ACCENTUATION. 297 
 
 See, too, Shakesjieare's — 
 
 The mul'titu'dinous seas' incar'nadine'. 
 
 It is made a merit of Dante Eossetti's that in his Sonnets 
 he handles these polysyllables habitually to good metrical purpose. 
 
 The same word may even have, or not have, some other than 
 its speaking accent, according to its place among surrounding 
 accents. 
 
 Thus, Arnold's — 
 
 What seeks' on the moun'tain 
 This glo'rihed train' ; 
 
 ' glorified' could easily, if required, take two accents—' glo'rifi'ed ', 
 Or take his — 
 
 But, where Hel'icon breaks' down 
 In cliff to the sea ; 
 the reading of ' breaks' down ' would, as a rule, be ' breaks down" ; 
 but that would place three unaccented syllables— a forbidden 
 number— between ' Hel' — ' and ' down". Or cf. his — 
 
 Through the black', rushing smoke'-bursts, 
 Thick breaks' the red flame' ; 
 
 where ' rushing ' loses its accent altogether, because of * black ' 
 before and ' smoke ' after it. 
 
 Similarly with monosyallables : they depend on their rhetorical 
 emphasis in the sentence for their accent in verse ; sometimes 
 having to be forced. This is best studied in hnes made up wholly 
 of monosyllables : e.g., Shakespeare's — 
 
 That in' black ink' my love' may still' shine bright' ; 
 or his — 
 
 Or if they sing', 'tis with' so dull' a cheer'; 
 
 where unforced reading would throw ' so ' into accent. 
 
 He has a very fine couplet, wholly composed of monosyllables, 
 
 where every accent is determined by the rhetorically important 
 
 word : — 
 
 So long* as men' can breathe', or eyes' can see'. 
 So long' lives this', and this' gives life' to thee'. 
 
 Milton, in Paradise Lost (II. 621), has a famous monosyllabic 
 line : — 
 
 Eocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens and shades of death. 
 
 There is a real difficulty here, because the first six words are 
 equally emphatic ; but for metrical purposes, ' fens ' and ' dens ' 
 catch the ear, and so the accent, by their rhyming sound; and 
 then at the close the ' and ' and ' of ' throw the weight on to the 
 important words, and determine the movement of the line. 
 
 Mr. Swinburne, in his much-praised anapaestic metres, secures 
 the same effect by filling up the unaccented places mostly with 
 particles and connectives : — 
 14
 
 298 VEKSIFICATION AND METRE. 
 
 The word' of the earth' in the ears' of the world', was it God' ? was 
 it man' ? 
 
 Eyes' that had look'ed not on time', and ears' that had heard' not 
 of death'. 
 
 For the waste' of the dead' void air' took form' of a world' at birth'. 
 
 Not each' man of all' men is God', but God' is the fruit' of the 
 whole'. 
 
 With sncli fire' as the stars' of the skies' are, the roots' of his heart 
 are fed'. 
 
 For his face' is set' to the east', his feet' on the past' and its dead'. 
 
 This accounts for that poet's great plentifulness of ' of ihe,' 
 'in the,' ' for the,' ' that had,' ' that has,' &c., which recur in him 
 with tlie monotony of a mannerism. But he has the great gain of 
 flinging the weight of accent on the really effective words. 
 
 There may now be given some Examples of the most 
 common verses in the different measures. The use of the 
 ancient descriptive epithets is abandoned, because of their 
 evident incongruity, except to designate in a general way 
 the measures themselves. 
 
 I. Dissyllabic Measures. 
 1. The First, or Trochaic, Measure. 
 
 Hope' is I ban'ish'd 
 
 Joys' are | van'ish'd — 
 Gen'tlc I riv'er, | gen'tlo | riv'er — 
 Lo' thy I streams' are | staia'd' with | gore' — 
 
 And' the | ra'ven, | ne'ver | flit'ting, | still' is | sifting, | still' is | sifting 
 On' the I pai'lid | bust' of | Pallas | jusf a|bove' my | cham'ber | door'. 
 
 The Trochaic measure has a light tripping movement, 
 and is peculiarly fitted for lively subjects, although the 
 examples now quoted are of a different kind. It is employed 
 largely in simple nursery rhymes. 
 
 Shakespeare regularly uses a variety of this measure for 
 incantations, charms, &c. See ' Macbeth's ' witches, the 
 fairy songs and charms in ' A Midsunnner Night's Dream,' 
 or, the casket scrolls in the ' Merchant of Venice '. Take 
 one of these last : — 
 
 Air that glis'tcrs is' not gold' : 
 Ma'ny a man' his life' hath sold' 
 Buf my ouf side to' behold' : 
 Gild'ed tombs' do worms' infold'.
 
 THE VARIOUS MEASUEES. 299 
 
 Had' you been' as wise' as bold', 
 Young' in limbs', in judg'ment old'. 
 Your an'swor had' not been' inscroU'd' : 
 Fare' you well' : your suit' is cold'. 
 
 Gray uses a variety of it for light effect : — 
 
 Thee' the voice', the dance' obey', 
 Tem'pered to' thy war'bled lay'. 
 Now' pursu'ing, now' retreat'ing, 
 NoV in cir'cling troops' they meet. 
 
 2. The Second, or Iambic, Measure. 
 
 The strains' | decay' 
 And melt' | away' — 
 
 For in' | my mind' | of all' | mankind' 
 I love' I but you' | alone' — 
 
 O' I Caledon'jia, stern' | and wild' — 
 
 And found' | no end', | in wan'|d'ring ma'|zes lost' — 
 
 Such' I as crea'|tion's dawn' | beheld' | thou roll'|est now' — 
 
 The spa'|cious fir'jmament' | on high' | and all' | the blue' | ether'ieal sky'. 
 
 The Iambic measure is most easily kept up. It is there- 
 fore in very common use, and is peculiarly adapted for long 
 poems. 
 
 II. Trisyllabic Measures. 
 
 1. The Third, or Dactylic, Measure. 
 
 Take' her up | ten'derly. 
 Lift' her with | care' — 
 
 Thou' who art | bear'ing my | buckler and | bow' — 
 
 Spare' me, | great' Recol|lec'tion, for | words' to the | task' wore 
 un|e'c[ual. 
 
 2. The Fourth, or Amphibrachic, Measure. 
 
 The black' bands | came o'ver 
 The Alps' and the snow' — 
 
 ^Ty cour'sers ( are fed' with | the light'ning, 
 They drink' with | the whirl'wind's stream' — 
 There came' to | the shore' a | poor ex'ile | of E'rin, 
 The dew' on | his thin' robe | was heav'y | and chill'. 
 
 3. The Fifth, or Anapaestic, Measure. 
 
 To the fame' | of your name' — 
 
 See the snakes' | that they rear', 
 How they hiss' | in the air'— 
 
 Shall vic'itor exult,' | or in death' | bo laid low', 
 
 With his back' | to the field,' | and his feet' | to the foo'.
 
 300 VERSIFICATION AND METRE. 
 
 All the Trisyllabic measures have a quicker movement 
 than the Dissyllabic, owing to the greater number of unac- 
 cented syllables ; they are characterized in the main by 
 rushing impetuosity. Mention has been already made of 
 their readiness to admit irregularities, and to change places. 
 Indeed, they can scarcely be called distinct measures ; thus 
 the fourth, for example, shows clear traces of dactylic 
 rhythm. We might scan the last-quoted specimen of it 
 thus : — 
 
 Th^re | came' to the | shore' a poor | ex'ile of | Erin, 
 Th6 I dew' on his | thin' rohe lay | heav'y and' | chill' — 
 
 making the first syllables of the lines unemphatic, on the 
 principle of the anacrmis, or back-stroke, of the classical 
 metres. We have then verses of properly dactylic measure, 
 the one line leading continuously on to the next. The rarity 
 of the pure dactylic measure in English is no longer a matter 
 of wonder, seeing it is thus found so often disguised. 
 
 Coleridge's 'Christabel,' and some of Byron's poems, are 
 written in a metre disposed in lines varying in length from 
 seven to twelve syllables, but always containing four ac- 
 cented positions ; thus : — 
 
 I won''der'd what' | might ail' | the bird'; 
 
 For no' thing near' | it could' | I see', 
 
 Save the grass' | and green herbs' | imdemeath' | the old tree'. 
 
 Though Coleridge called this a new principle, the only thing 
 new was the systematic execution. 
 
 The Pauses. 
 
 I. The Final Fame. — The length of verse is determined 
 by the number of ' measures ' ; and the number of measures 
 going to any verse is determined by a distinguishable rest 
 or pause of the voice. To justify this pause, there must be 
 a break in the sense ; not necessarily such a break as w^ould 
 demand a punctuation mark, but, at the least, the end of a 
 word must be reached, and even to separate two words that 
 are closely joined in a phrase is felt to be inelegant.* 
 
 To exemplify, take Faradise Lost, III. 37 : — 
 
 Tlien feed on thoughts that voluntary move 
 Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful bird 
 
 • T»r. F.ilwin Guest, in A Ifistoi-ji of Enetlish Rlnittinis, has very fully developed 
 this point ; and, thon};li instances pan' be cited against him from nearly all our poets, 
 yet these instances make l)ut a trifling proportion of any poet's verses. Mr. Joseph 
 15. Mayor, in Chniili-rg nn Eiujlisli Mitre, contests Hr. Cuest's doctrine, but seems to 
 ciinfon'nd two things that Dr. Guest expressly distinguished,— a metrical jjause and 
 a punctuation stop.
 
 THE PAUSES. 301 
 
 Sings clarkling, and, in shadiest covert hid, 
 Tunes her nocturnal note. 
 
 ' Move ' and * bird ' both give a sufficient break ; while ' hid ' 
 makes one marked enough to need a comma for gram- 
 matical purposes. 
 
 Take another passage, from Mr. Swinburne's ' Atalanta 
 in Calydon ' : — 
 
 These things are in my presage, and myself 
 Am part of them and know not ; but in dreams 
 The gods are heavy on me, and all the fates 
 Shed fire across my eyelids mixed with night, 
 And burn me blind, and disilluminate 
 My sense of seeing, and my perspicuous soul 
 Darken with vision ; seeing, I see not, hear 
 And hearing am not holpen. 
 
 Six of these eight hues are cases of the purely metrical 
 pause occurring at a point where the sense breaks, but not so 
 as to need punctuation marks. 
 
 No doubt Milton has lines like — 
 
 Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright 
 Pavement, that like a sea, &c. {Paradise Lost, III. 362)— 
 
 where there is no such break in sense between the adjective 
 ' bright ' and its noun ' pavement ' as to justify the final 
 pause above defined ; but there are few such lines in Milton, 
 the vast majority following the canon now laid down. 
 
 In Shakespeare, especially in the later plays, verses end 
 with words that cannot, by any natural reading, be paused 
 upon. In neighbouring lines of the ' Tempest,' we find — 
 
 I will resist such entertainment till 
 Mine enemy has more power ; 
 and — 
 
 IMake not too rash a trial of him, for 
 He's gentle and not fearful. 
 
 Further on, in the same play, we meet with — 
 
 You cram these words into mine ears against 
 The stomach of my sense ; 
 
 and — 
 
 Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at 
 Which end o' the beam should bow. 
 
 Byron is notorious for his carelessness * in metre, and 
 accordingly abounds in such lines. 
 
 * Even at its best, the serious poetry of Byron is often so rough and loose, so 
 weak in the screws and joints wliich hold together the framework of verse, that it is 
 not easy to praise it enough without seeming to condone or to extenuate such 
 faults as should not be overlooked or forgiven. (Swinburne.)
 
 302 VERSIFICATION AND METEE. 
 
 Such as, before me, did the Magi, and 
 He who, &c. (' Manfred.') 
 
 I did not visit on 
 The innocent creature. (' Marino Fahero. ') 
 
 Souls that dare look the Omnipotent tyrant in 
 His everlasting face. (' Cain.') 
 
 Let him but vanquish, and 
 Me perish ! (' Sardanapalus. ') 
 
 Be he richest of 
 Such rank as is permitted. (' Two Foscari.') 
 
 Had not thy justice been so tempered with 
 
 The mercy which is Thy delight, as to ' 
 
 Accord a pardon. (' Cain.') 
 
 And as 
 For duty, as you call it. (' Werner.') 
 A hateful and unsightly molehill to 
 The eyes of happier men. (' Deformed Transformed.') 
 
 That Byron, though indulging in this practice, was aware 
 of its metrical impropriety, is shown by his conscious use of 
 it in Don Juan for comic purposes. In the fii'st stanza of 
 the dedication, we meet — 
 
 Although 'tis true that you tum'd out a Tory at 
 Last. 
 
 Throughout the poem, such pauses as the following arc 
 
 common : — - 
 
 Instead of quarrelling, had they' been both' in 
 Their senses. (L 25.) 
 
 Which ancient mass-books often are', and tliis' all 
 Elinds of grotesques illumined. (I. 46.) 
 
 And I must say, I ne'er could see the very 
 Great happiness of the Nil Admirari. (V. 100.) 
 
 Pity' that' so few' by 
 Poets and private tutors are exposed. (V. 131.) 
 
 There lies, yclept despatches, without risk or 
 The singeing of a single inky whisker. (V. 151.) 
 
 II. The Middle Pause, or Ccesura. — Every verse, or line, if it 
 go beyond four ' measures ' or accents, should have a rest to 
 the voice about the middle ; e.g., in an ordinary blank verse, 
 this pause should divide it into two sections, one of two, and 
 the other of three accents. Thus : if one word contain three 
 accents of the verse, that word must not occupy the centre, 
 but come at the beginning or the end. 
 
 In illustration, Shakespeare supplies a breach, and 
 Matthew Arnold an example, of this rule, and that with the 
 same word :^
 
 THE CiESURA. 303 
 
 And what impossibility would slay — 
 
 (' All's well that ends well.') 
 
 When true, the last impossibility. 
 
 We are familiar with this pause, or Caesura, in the com- 
 mon ballad metre of seven accents, where it is marked out 
 by dividing each verse into two separate parts. In some 
 early Elizabethan books of poetry, this form of printing was 
 followed even in verses of only five accents. 
 
 For the Ctesura, a slighter break in sense will often 
 have to serve for the final pause : put negativelj^ the rule 
 is that the Caesura shall not occur in the middle of a 
 word. 
 
 There are far more violations of this rule to be found 
 than of the rule of the Final Pause, due probably to the 
 fact that the Caesura has no longer any visible representation 
 in printing. But attention to it is found prevalent in all 
 melodious poets, when they deal in long verses; e.g., Tenny- 
 son in ' Locksley Hall '. 
 
 These pauses, being rests from the effort of articulation, afford the 
 means of getting over consonant clashes and vowel hiatuses; the rest 
 coming in at that point gives time for easily shaping the vocal organs to 
 pronounce the new consonant or vowel (see Melody). This helps the 
 difficulty in Gray's line : — 
 
 The lowing herd ]| winds slowly o'er the lea ; 
 
 ' rd ' followed by ' w ' is not a very easy combination, but the difficulty 
 is concealed by the metrical pause between them. By this means 
 also, two accented syllables may stand together, either inside a line, 
 or at the end of one and the opening of the next ; an arrangement that 
 has a specific and appreciable effect. In the following lines from 
 Paradise Lost (II. 106j, this advantage and the former one are com- 
 bined : — 
 
 He ended frowning, and his look denounced' 
 
 Dcs'perate revenge. 
 
 From ' Lear, ' we get this effect in Caesura : — 
 
 Humanity must perforce' || prcij on itself. 
 
 A third j)oint is that if the middle pause occur after an unaccented 
 syllable, the measure following can more readily remain complete ; 
 this is how, with the final pause also, an extra syllable may be at- 
 tached to a line, and yet the following one open as if no departure from 
 the regular form had been made. In ' King John ' there occurs : 
 
 Thou slave, thou wretch, thou eovf'ard ! 
 Thou lit'ile valiant, great in villainy ! 
 
 Of the Cfesural variety of this, Chaucer is full : — 
 
 Thou schul'dest nev'ere || out of this grove' pace'. 
 
 It is obvious that there may be great variety in the markedness of 
 the sense break corresponding to these pauses, and also in the position
 
 304 \'ERSIFICATION AND METRE. 
 
 of the Cresural pause among the syllables making up the line. As a 
 source of variety, there must be added the many possible placings of 
 the grammatif al stops in the lines of a poem ; this is what ^lilton 
 meant in the famous preface by the expression — ' the sense variously 
 drawn out from one verse into another '. 
 
 It is by the numerous combinations of measures ■with 
 pauses that metrical effect, strictly so called, is reached. 
 No more is necessary to that kind of effect ; a poet may 
 display great metrical skill without, for example, securing 
 the melody of easy arrangements of vowels and consonants. 
 But there are adjuncts of metre, such as Alliteration and 
 Khyme, which greatly enrich it. 
 
 Alliteration. 
 
 This is now merely a fanciful analogy. Alliteration, 
 which means the recurrence at short intervals of the same 
 initial letter, may be described as a metrical ornament. 
 Attempted, more or less, in the poetry of almost all lan- 
 guages, it was especially used, as the main feature of 
 versification, in the Old German, x\nglo-Saxon, and Scandi- 
 navian poetry. According to strict usage, two or three 
 words in one line, and one word in the next, began with 
 the same letter ; as is seen in this extract from the well- 
 known poem of the 14th century, ' Piers Ploughman ' : — 
 
 There jijreached a p&vdonej: 
 As he a jyrieste were ; 
 brought forth a iull 
 With many Mshop's seals. 
 
 In later English poetry, it is curious to note how often 
 alliteration is found, even to perfection, as in the verses of 
 Spenser, Milton, Coleridge, Shelley, Tennyson, &c. A few 
 examples may be given : — 
 
 The tush my Jed, the Jramble was my Jower, 
 The ?c-oods can 2/;itness many a iroful sto^vre, 
 Of man's /irst disobedience, and the_/ruit 
 Of that/orbidden tree, whose mortal taste. 
 
 The/air freeze blew ; the white /oam /lew, 
 The /urrow /oUowed free. 
 
 Like a orlowworm grolden 
 In a dell of dew. 
 
 And on a sudden, /o ! the level Zake 
 And the long glories of the winter moon. 
 Extensive harvests /uing the Aeavy Aead.
 
 ALLITEKATION IN ENGLISH POETRY. 305 
 
 That there is something naturally pleasing in such con- 
 junctions, is evident from their frequency in current sayings 
 and proverbs. For instance : 'Life and limb,' ' Watch and 
 ward,' ' Man and mouse,' ' Far fowls have feathers fair '. 
 An extreme case of AlUteration is found in the hue — 
 
 Let lovely lilacs line Lee's lonely lane — 
 
 where every syllable begins alike. (See Dr. Longmuir's 
 Edition of Walker's Rhuming Dictionary, p. xxix.) 
 
 To get full alliterative effect, this line shows that the 
 similarly opening syllables should be accented ; it is too 
 strong an effect to put obviously on weak syllables, and, by 
 retarding them, obliterates the metrical movement. 
 
 It is pointed out by Mr. J. A. Symonds that Milton 
 runs an aUiteration right through whole periods, and even 
 strengthens the effect by taking in cognate consonants : 
 e.g., to help an alliteration on ' f,' he will take in ' v,' ' p,' 
 and ' b '. This is most obtrusively done when he repeats 
 the same word, or grammatical varieties of it. 
 
 Paradise liegaiivd (III. 119-120) is a prolonged example 
 of these points in Milton : — 
 
 Think not so slight of glory, therein least 
 Resembling thy j/reat Father. He seeks glory. 
 And for his glory all things made, all things 
 Orders and jrovems ; nor content in heaven, 
 By all his angels gloriG.ed, requires 
 Glory from men, from all men, ^ood or bad, 
 Wise or un^vise, no difference, no exemption. 
 Above all sacrifice, all hallowed giit, 
 Glory he requires, and glory he receives. 
 Promiscuous from all nations, Jew or 6'reek, 
 Or barbarous, nor exception hath declared ; 
 From us, his foes pronounced, glory he exacts. 
 
 Ehyme. 
 
 Ehyme may be called metrical in a wide sense, as 
 determining a recurrence of sound in the closing syllable or 
 syllables of different verses. It is a poetical ornament pecu- 
 liar to poetry subsequent to the classical period, and by no 
 means universally employed. The blank verse, in which so 
 much of English poetry is written, discards it altogether. 
 Possibly, it was a sense of the comparative paucity of Eng- 
 lish rhymes, as well as veneration for classical models, that 
 caused Ben Jonson, Milton and others to rebel against its
 
 306 VERSIFICATION AND METRE. 
 
 fetters. Ehyme, however, is so pleasing and so easily under- 
 stood, as to stand higher than any other poetical artifice 
 in popular estimation. The existence of so-called doggerel 
 verses is a rude testimony to its power. Three conditions 
 are required before two syllables make a perfect rhyme. 
 
 1. The vowel-sound and what (if anything) follows it, 
 must be the same in both : ' long,' ' ^ong ' ; ' sea,' ' free'. As 
 rhyme depends upon sound only, the spelling is of no con- 
 sequence : ' bear,' ' hare,' are rhymes; not so 'bear,' 'fear'. 
 
 A great many conventional combinations are permitted by 
 custom, being a sort of eye-rhymes. Since they do not possess 
 the specific effect of rhymes, they should not be tolerated. 
 They are such as ' love,' ' move ' ; ' poor,' ' door ' ; ' earth,' 
 'birth'; 'main,' 'again'; 'live,' ' thi-ive,' &c. Pope has 
 many such faulty correspondences, rhyming, within the 292 
 lines of the Second Mural Essay, as the following words : 
 'weak,' 'take'; 'thought,' with 'fault,' 'draught' (draft), 
 and 'taught'; 'feast,' 'taste,'; 'birth,' 'earth'; 'brain,' 
 ' again ' ; ' great,' ' cheat ' ; ' store,' ' poor ' ; ' unmov'd,' 
 'lov'd'; 'swells,' 'conceals,'; 'taught,' 'fault'; 'retreat,' 
 ' great ' ; ' most,' ' lost '. Keats, in Lamia, has : ' alone,' 
 'boon'; 'bliss,' 'is' (twice); 'was,' 'pass'; ' undrest,' 
 ' amethyst ' ; ' muse,' ' house ' ; * fared,' ' appeared ' ; ' sung,' 
 ' long ' ; ' one,' ' tune ' ; ' youth,' ' soothe ' ; ' rose,' ' lose ' ; 
 ' his,' * miss ' ; ' on,' ' known ' ; ' eagenzes.?,' ' decrease '; 
 ' how,' 'know' ; 'past,' ' haste'; 'year,' 'where' ; ^cxxrioiis,' 
 ' house ' ; ' one,' ' known ' ; ' on,' ' one ' ; ' feast,' ' drest ' ; 
 ' smoke,' ' took' ; 'rose,' ' odorows' ; ' stood,' 'God ' ; 'feast,' 
 ' placed'; ' shriek,' ' break ' ; 'again,' ' vein ' ; ' lost,' 'ghost'. 
 
 2. The articulation before the vowel-sound must be 
 different : ' greeu,' ' spleen ' ; ' call,' '/all,' ' all '. The letter 
 h is not considered a distinct articulation : ' /^eart,' 'art,' are 
 improper rhymes. 
 
 3. Both must be accented : ' try',' ' sigh" ; not ' try',' 
 'bright'///'. There is an admitted violation of this rule, 
 when the accent on a syllable is metrical purely, and not 
 proper to the word. This aflbrds what is called a tceak 
 rhyvie. For example : ' eye,' ' utter/?/ ' ; ' reply,' ' revelry ' ; 
 ' trees,' ' intri'cacies' ' ; ' he,' ' ruefully' ; 'hour,' 'paramour'; 
 'please,' 'goddesses". The main source of these is the 
 endings in ?/; which may sound i or e at need. To know 
 which way to take the weak ending, we must get the other 
 rhyming syllable first — a consideration that leads Johnson
 
 CONDITIONS OF KHYME. 307 
 
 to forbid rhymes in the order of : ' mysteries,' ' eyes ' ; 
 ' palaces,' ' please ' ; ' fairily,' ' see ' ; ' empery,' sigh '. 
 
 Ehymes are single: as ' plain,' 'grain' ; double: as 'glo-ry,' 
 ' sto-ry ' ; or triple : as ' read-i-ly,' ' stead-i-ly '. In double and 
 triple rhymes, the last syllables are unaccented, and are 
 really appendages to the true rhyming sound, which alone 
 fulfils the conditions laid down above : curminate,/urminate. 
 
 The double and triple rhymes give scope for surprises of 
 ingenuity. They are one of the helps in comic pieces, like 
 Butler's Hudihras and Byron's Don Juan. The latter 
 poem is prodigally adorned with triple rhymes : — 
 
 But oh ! ye lords of ladies vaieMcctual 
 Inform us truly, have they not }ienpcck'd you all. 
 He learned the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, 
 And how to scale a fortress — or a nunnery. 
 
 Byron even makes a prodigy of four syllables : — 
 
 So that their plan and prosody are eligible, 
 Unless, like Wordsworth, they prove xminlelligille. 
 
 The Ingoldsby Legends deals in such effects: ' Chancery,' 
 ' answer he ' ; * re veil in,' ' Devil in ' : or — 
 
 In short, she turns out a complete Lady Bountiful, 
 Filling with drugs and brown Holland the coimty full. 
 
 The double rhyme, can, however, be used for serious 
 purposes ; and Mr. Swinburne has been bold in this use of 
 it. He has even ventured on serious uses of the triple 
 rhyme : — 
 
 Send but a song oversea for lis, 
 
 Heart of their hearts who are free, 
 Heart of their smger, to be for us 
 
 More than our singing can be ; 
 Ours, in the tempest at error 
 With no light but the twilight of terror ; 
 
 Send us a song oversea. 
 It sees not what season shall b7-ing to it 
 
 Sweet fruit of its bitter desire ; 
 Few voices it hears yet sijig to it. 
 Round your people and over them 
 
 Night like raiment is drawn, 
 Close as a garment to cover them. 
 Browning also frequently employs both double and triple 
 
 rhymes. 
 
 Ehymes are not confined to the close of separate verses, 
 but are sometimes found in the middle and at the end of the 
 same verse. Some hues from Shelley's * Cloud ' will illus- 
 trate both cases : —
 
 308 VEKSIFICATIOK AXD METKZ. 
 
 I bring fresh shouxrs for the thirsting ^^fctrfrs 
 
 From the seas and the streams; 
 I bear light shadt for the leaves when laid 
 
 In their noon-day drca)7is. 
 
 In this passage, it might be possible to argue that the 
 line should be printed as two ; but this is precluded in the 
 following from Scott : — 
 
 Then up with your nip, till you stagger in speech. 
 
 And riMt<-h me this catdi, though you siraggcr and scrcccJu 
 
 And drink till you vrinJc, my merry men each. 
 
 The marked similarity of rhyming closes draws the 
 attention on the rh}-ming words, and so gives them eni- 
 phasis. It is a great part, accordingly, of the artistic use of 
 rhyme that it should fall on words sufficiently important to 
 deserve the added emphasis. 
 
 But further : the rhyme corresponds with the words 
 where the Final Pause is, which is itself an emphasis-giving 
 effect. 
 
 Hence, this unavoidable combination of Ehyme with 
 Pause makes it absolutely necessary that none but words of 
 weighty meaning should come into these places. 
 
 There is nothing to justify such an emphasis as Chap- 
 man, by these means, thi-ows on 'forms' in the following: — 
 Before her flew Afliiction, girt in storms, 
 Gash'd all with gushing woimds, and all the forms 
 Of bane and misery, — 
 
 On the other hand ' storms ' gets a deserved emphasis. 
 
 Drayton has a well-rhymed opening stanza in one of his 
 Agincomt Odes : — 
 
 Fair stood the wind for France, 
 When we our sails advance, 
 Nor now to prove our chance 
 
 Longer will tarry ; 
 But putting to the main, 
 At Caux, the mouth of Seine, 
 With aU his martial train, 
 
 Landed King Harry, 
 
 It is a stroke of art to open such an ode on the rhyme of 
 ' France '. 
 
 As might be expected in such a master of the heroic 
 couplet, Dryden affords many happy instances of well- 
 placed emphasis of rhyme and pause : — 
 
 Next these, a troop of busy spirits press. 
 Of little fortunes and of conscience hss. 
 
 — (' Absalom and AchitopheL')
 
 ASSONANCES. 309 
 
 The opening of 'MacFlecknoe' is a model in this respect (see 
 p. 248). Three leading words are finely placed; and ' obey' 
 is as good as any other there possible. 
 
 Repetitions of like vowel-sounds, where other conditions 
 of perfect rhyme are neglected, get the name of Assonances. 
 These have no regular place in English poetry, as they have 
 in some other languages, but they are occasionally found in- 
 stead of rhymes in old ballads. For example : — 
 
 And Cloudesly lay ready there in a cart, 
 
 Fast bound, both foot and hand ; 
 And a strong rope about his neck, 
 
 All ready for to hainj. 
 
 Shakespeare has : — 
 
 Earth's increase and foison plenty. 
 Barns and garners never emptij — 
 
 Spring come to you at ihQ farthest 
 At the very end of luirvcst. 
 
 Two lines or verses rhyming together in succession form 
 a corqdet ; three, a triplet or ttrcet. Groups of four lines, 
 which may rhyme in various combinations, are called <iua- 
 traim. A stanza is the least group of lines involving all the 
 peculiarities of metre and arrangement of rhymes character- 
 istic of the piece wherein it enters. 
 
 Kinds of Verse. 
 
 The elements for constructing the various kinds of verse 
 common in English poetry have now been mentioned. They 
 are the five measures repeated to make lines of various length : 
 not seldom, compounded with one another ; occasionally, 
 made harmonious by alliteration ; and, in most kinds of 
 poetry, fitted with rhyming closes. The Ehyme, by its very 
 nature, supposing at least two lines or verses, practically 
 determines what special forms the versification shall assume ; 
 in the absence of rhyme, the versification is complete within 
 the single line. 
 
 This last case of simple unrhyraed metrical combination 
 is best disposed of by itself, before the more intricate rhymed 
 forms are noticed. It is the Blank Verse, called also Heroic, 
 and belongs to English literature. The name Heroic arises 
 from its employment in the High Epic, where it takes 
 the place of the classical hexameter. It is composed of five
 
 310 VERSIFICATION AND METEE. 
 
 Iambic measures, as seen in the appended extract from 
 Milton :— 
 
 High on' I a throne' | of roy'lal State,' | which far' 
 Outshone' | the wealth' | of Or'|muK and' | of Ind', 
 Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand 
 Showers on her kings barharic pearl and gold — 
 
 Young, Thomson, Wordsworth, and Tennyson also make 
 use of Blank Verse, although the lines of each have a distinct 
 ring or rhythm, dependent for the most part upon their 
 management of the natural pauses. 
 
 In the Drama, a somewhat looser form of Blank Verse 
 is in common use, varied occasionally by rhyming couplets. 
 Frequently, the verse is hypermetrical by one or even two 
 syllables. Thus : — 
 
 Most poltent, grave, | and rev'jrend Si|gniors ; 
 My ve|ry no|ble and | approv'd | good m.a,s\ters. 
 
 The combinations that are formed to meet the necessities, 
 or gain the advantage, of Ehyme, are so exceedingly nume- 
 rous, that it will be impossible to allude to more than a few 
 of the common forms, associated with well marked kinds of 
 composition. In these the Iambic measure is found largely 
 to preponderate. 
 
 Iambic Odosyllahics, of four measures, or eight syllables, 
 in couplets rhyming at the close. As — 
 
 Lord Mar' mion txim'd,' | well was' | his need' 
 And dash'd' | the row'iels in' | his steed'. 
 
 This form is employed in Byron's Tales, in Hudlhras, &c. 
 Scott varies it often by lines of six syllables, or runs it into 
 triplets. Other poets write triplets in stanzas. Quatrains 
 in stanzas, rhyming by couplets or alternately, are exceed- 
 ingly common. 
 
 Tennyson's In Memoriam has made famous an old com- 
 bination of eight-syllabled lines, with four accents and 
 iambic movement. The stanza has four lines, 1 and 4, and 
 2 and 3 rhyming together. 
 
 Ill rule CtnijjJds, five iambic measures rhymed. 
 
 Know well | thyself | presume | not God | to scan ; 
 The projper stuidy of | mankind | is man. 
 
 Chaucer, Marlowe, Dryden, Pope, Cowper, &c., have used 
 this metre ; Swinburne and William Morris have made great
 
 VARIETIES OP VERSE. 311 
 
 use of it for narrative poetry. Like the last, it is occasion- 
 ally run into triplets, which may form stanzas. 
 
 Several more complex combinations are formed out of 
 rhyming heroics. 
 
 Four lines, rhyming alternately, make the Elegiac Stanza, 
 — found in Gray's ' Elegy,' Dryden's ' Annus Mirabilis,' &c. 
 
 Let not I Ambiltion mock | their uselful toil, 
 Their home;ly joys | and des tiny | obscure ; 
 
 Nor gran,deur hear | with a | disdainful smile 
 The short | and sim|ple anjnals of | the poor. 
 
 Seven heroic lines, the five first rhyming at intervals and 
 the two last in succession, give the Rhyme Eoyal of Chaucer 
 and the Elizabethan writers. 
 
 But, oh I the doleful sight | that then | we see ! 
 We turned our look, and on the other side 
 
 A grisly shape of Famine mought we see : 
 
 With greedy looks, and gaping mouth, that cried 
 And roared for meat, as she sliould there have died : 
 
 Her body thin and bare as any bone, 
 
 "Whereto was left nought but the case alone. 
 
 Eight heroics, the first six rhyming alternately and the 
 last two in succession, compose the Italian Ottava Rima. 
 This combination is found in translations, and in Don Juan. 
 
 The oth|er fa|ther had | a weak|lier | child, 
 
 Of a soft cheek, and aspect delicate ; 
 But the boy bore up long, and with a mild 
 
 And patient spirit held aloof his fate ! 
 Little he said, and now and then he smiled 
 
 As if to win a part from off the weight 
 He saw increasing on his father's heart, 
 With the deep deadly thought that they must part. 
 
 The Sonnet consists of fourteen heroic lines, with a 
 peculiar arrangement of the rhymes, not, however, always 
 strictly observed. 
 
 The Spenserian stanza of Spenser, Beattie, and Byron is 
 an English combination of eight heroics rhyming at in- 
 tervals, and followed by a rhyming Alexandrine of twelve 
 syllables. 
 
 The lijon would | not leave | her delsolate. 
 But with her went along, as a strong guard 
 
 Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate 
 Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard : 
 Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward ;
 
 312 VERSIFICATION AND METEE. 
 
 And when she waked, he waited diligent 
 
 With humble service to her will prepared ; 
 From her | fair eyes | he took | comman: dement, 
 And evler by | her looks | conceivj 6d her | intent. 
 
 The Alexandrine, of six iambic measures, and rhyming in 
 couplets, is employed by itself in Drayton's ' Polyolbion '. 
 
 Seven iambic measures, rhyming in couplets, form the 
 common Service metre of psalms and hymns, and also the 
 Ballad metre. 
 
 Lord, thou | hast been | our dwel ling place |I in gen|eraItions all. 
 Before | thou ev|er hadst | brought forth || the moun|tains great I or 
 
 small. 
 
 As the middle pause falls regularly after the fourth 
 measure, it is customary to write the couplet as a stanza of 
 four lines ; in the following example, the first and third 
 lines are made to rhyme : — 
 
 Soft as the dew from heaven descends, 
 
 His gentle accents fell : 
 The modest stranger lowly bends, 
 
 And follows to the cell. 
 
 A single example of Trochaic Combination may be 
 quoted : — 
 
 Onward, onward may we press 
 
 Through the path of duty ; 
 Virtue is true happiness, 
 
 Excellence, true beauty. 
 Minds are of celestial birth ; 
 Make we then a heaven of earth. 
 
 Great as is the number of existing models, English poets 
 have still large scope for new and original combinations. 
 
 The critical examination of Metre, no less than the 
 entire flow of melodious verse, presupposes a view of 
 its eflicacy in poetical composition. 
 
 The following are the chief principles in metre : — 
 I. The condition of mind under an unusual degree 
 of emotional fervour, is suited by the metrical form of lan- 
 guage, in company with the characteristic diction of poetry. 
 For one thing, the more excited we are, the less able are we 
 to accommodate our movements to a complicated type ; as in 
 pronouncing a sentence where the rhythm changes at every 
 word. We feel it a satisfaction and a relief to fall into a 
 simple and easy alternation of emphasis, as in the regular 
 measures of poetry.
 
 PRINCIPLES OP METRICAL EFFECT. 313 
 
 II. A new pleasure is imparted by the regularity of metre, 
 corresponding to what arises from symmetrical arrange- 
 ments in the other Fine Arts. Hence the tendency to 
 regularity of rhythm already mentioned as observable in 
 rhetorical prose. 
 
 This greatly extends the sphere of metrical language, and 
 accounts for its being employed when the emotional tone 
 is not at any high pitch. It also constitutes a poetical 
 merit, of no small amount, in compositions that may be 
 wanting in melodious flow of vowels and consonants, as in 
 the poems of Scott. 
 
 III. Metre, Ehyme, and Alliteration, being highly arti- 
 ficial, afford scope for ingenuity in verbal construction, and 
 thus permit the same species of gratification as Wit in its 
 purest form of Word-play. The adaptations to a complicated 
 scheme of verse, not to speak of the aid that may be thereby 
 rendered to the conveyance of meaning, demand a consider- 
 able exertion of verbal skill ; and, when successful, are pro- 
 portionally admired. 
 
 The poet is supposed to choose a scheme of metre that 
 is, on the whole, suited to his theme and his manner of treat- 
 ment. The propriety of this choice must justify itself by 
 the effect. 
 
 It is found, however, as a matter of fact, that poets very 
 frequently depart from the prevailing type of their chosen 
 metre. The departures from the regular form of blank 
 verse in Milton make up a very large fraction of his lines. 
 This has given rise to questions as to the proper scansion of 
 these variations ; in which metrists differ in opinion. Com- 
 pare Guest, Masson, and Mayor, on the scansion of Paradise 
 Lost. 
 
 Assuming that a certain metre has been chosen as most 
 agreeable to a poet's conception of suitability, both to his 
 subject and to the emotional strain that he aims at keeping 
 up, we may assign conjectiu-ally the following reasons for 
 departing from it : — Firstly, the variation may chance to 
 be more in harmony with the feeling than the regular 
 form. Secondly, the strict adherence to the type will 
 occasionally be found monotonous, so that a change is 
 welcome. Thirdly, there may be a conflict with the melody 
 as otherwise regarded ; that is to say, the successions of 
 words, syllables and letters, on which depends the agreeable 
 flow of language, whether in verse or in prose. Fourthly,
 
 314 VERSIFICATION AND METRE. 
 
 effectiveness for the expression of meaning may require a 
 departure from the strictness of the metrical arrangement. 
 
 These considerations, amongst others, will weigh in the 
 general criticism of metrical constructions. Take, as au 
 example, the celebrated line in Milton : — 
 
 Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven. 
 
 The first word is a trochee instead of the regular iambus, 
 and makes the line more difficult to pronounce. Neither in 
 feeling nor in melody is it an obvious improvement, but 
 rather the contrary. Whether it is an agreeable variation 
 is open to doubt ; the decision would rest upon the view 
 that w^e took of the verses preceding. The probable motive 
 of the poet's choice w^as to make the sentiment terse and 
 expressive. If he could have found an iambus for * better ' 
 giving the same meaning, he would probably have adopted 
 it. As a detached line, so frequently quoted, adherence to 
 the typical structure of the verse would have been, to say 
 the least of it, no drawback. 
 
 The fact that Milton's melody is so often of the highest 
 order calls attention to the many lines where the quality is 
 undiscernible or wanting. The opening lines of Paradise 
 Lost are neither conformable to the proper type of the verse, 
 nor an apparent improvement as regards melody, judged by 
 the most palpable rules. Their merit is the compactness of 
 the sense ; and, as the construction is unusually involved, 
 the compliance with metrical form would be next to 
 impossible. 
 
 The three concluding lines of Paradise Begrimed, Book 
 III., are unusually stilf and heavy in their movement : — 
 
 So spake Israel's true King, and to the fiend 
 Made answer meet, that made void all his wiles ; 
 So fares it when with truth falsehood contends. 
 
 There is nothing to redeem these lines but the thought and 
 the terseness of the wording. 
 
 The following lines from Marlowe would appear to 
 justify the licence of beginning a line with a trochee : — 
 
 The griefs of private men are soon allay'd ; 
 But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck, 
 liuns to an herb that closeth up the woimds. 
 
 The two first lines are blank verse in purity, and are highly 
 effective examples of its power. The third line deviates to 
 seemingly good purpose. After the words, 'The forest
 
 THE METRE IN * HAMLET '. 315 
 
 deer, being struck,' we feci a propriety in beginning the next 
 line with the emphatic verb ' runs,' which necessitates a 
 trochee instead of the iambus. We could not say the same of 
 the word ' better ' in the previous example. Moreover, the 
 delay of the voice upon ' runs ' renders acceptable the two 
 Ught unemphatic syllables * to an ' that precede the other 
 voice-entanghng word ' herb '. 
 
 As exemplifying the mode of interpreting the harmony 
 of metre, regular and irregular, with the subject-matter of 
 the poetry, we may give the following passage from Mr. J. B. 
 Mayor's Chapters on English Metre, p. 176. The reference is 
 to Shakespeare's ' Hamlet ', 
 
 "Horatio's speech commencing ' A mote it is to trouble 
 the mind's eye,' is a piece of fine imaginative poetry, stand- 
 ing in strong contrast with his preceding rapid business-like 
 statement about the claim of Fortinbras. In place of the 
 rough, broken rhythm of the former speech, we have here 
 some four or five of the most musically varied lines in 
 Shakespeare, marked by slow movement, long vowels and 
 alliteration. It is only as Horatio descends to earth again 
 that we have the double ending in 1, 124. In Hamlet's 
 speech to his mother, he appears as a stern preacher, 
 obeying the command received from his murdered father. 
 Plainly there is no place here for ease and politeness. The 
 same may be said of the ghost's speech, only that it has an 
 added solemnity. The old play is necessarily regular and 
 formal. Soliloquies, if quietly meditative, or the outpouring 
 of a pleasing emotion, will naturally take the regular poetic 
 form : if agitated, or vehemently argumentative, they will 
 be irregular, marked by the use of sudden pauses, feminine 
 endings and trisyllabic feet, as we see in I. 2. 129-160, ' O 
 that this too too solid flesh would melt,' &c. This is 
 remarkably shown in the speech beginning ' To be or not to 
 be,' where we find five double endings in the first eight lines, 
 these being perplexed and argumentative; but in the next 
 twenty lines there is not a single feminine ending, as these 
 are merely the pathetic expression of a single current of 
 thought. Then in 1. 83 follow reflections of a more prosaic 
 turn, and we again have two double endings. It may be 
 noticed that in the soliloquies III. 3. 36-96, six of the twelve 
 double endings consist of the word heaven or pruijers, which 
 are hardly to be distinguished from monosyllables. One
 
 316 VEKSIFICATION AND METRE. 
 
 other instance may be quoted to illustrate Shakespeare's 
 use of the feminine ending. In I. 1. 165 Horatio says : — 
 
 So have | I heard | and do | in part | believe \ it, 
 But, look I , the morn | in rusjset manjtle clad | , 
 Walks o'er | the dew j of yon | high eastjward hill | . 
 
 The first line is conversational, the two others imaginative 
 without passiou, only with a joyful welcome of the calm, 
 bright, healthy dawn after the troubled spectral night ; and 
 we have a corresponding change in the rhythm."
 
 EESIDUARY QUALITIES. 
 
 In the foregoing discussion of Strength, FeeHng, Hu- 
 mour, and Melody, a wide range of hterary effects has been 
 overtaken ; their characteristics and conditions having been 
 minutely surveyed. These qualities do not include all 
 literary excellence. Nevertheless, they are so prominent 
 and commanding, as to be rarely absent from any work of 
 artistic pretensions By them, our pleasm-able sensibilities 
 can be less expensively gratified than by any others. If 
 we couple with their requirements the ' Aids to Qualities ' 
 generally, we can do little more in the way of prescription 
 or criticism in regard to style. Still, in order to be as com- 
 plete as possible, we shall now touch upon a few matters 
 that have not been expressly adverted to already. 
 
 THE SENSE QUALITIES. 
 
 The Senses, in then own proper character, are appealed 
 to in works of Art. The Painter, the Sculptor, and the 
 Decorator seek to impart the pleasures of the eye, in the 
 first instance, although they do not stop there. The Poet 
 and the Musician gratify the original sensibility of the ear, 
 while enhancing the value of their work by large drafts 
 on the higher emotions. 
 
 Under Melody, the agreeable titillation of the ear is 
 studied, so far as the choice and arrangement of words will 
 operate. 
 
 The direct gratification of the sense of Sight is not pos- 
 sible in the poetic or literary art, as in Painting and similar 
 arts. The poet must work by pi-es( nt ng visible objects in 
 idea, according to his means. This he may do with con- 
 siderable success. The pleasures of the eye may be recalled 
 by language ; and these may prove either pleasures of the 
 sense, or the still greater pleasures of emotion as attached 
 to visible pictures : for example, the pleasure of contem-
 
 318 EESIDUAEY QUALITIES. 
 
 plating personal beauty. Each of the two effects has its 
 own laws. 
 
 The same applies to Hearing. Melody of language and 
 metrical arrangements make but a small part of the in- 
 fluence of poetry on the ear. As with the eye, the pleasures 
 of hearing can be given in idea, and can have the same 
 double character of pure primary gratification of the sense, 
 and associated emotional pleasures. The effect of music is 
 sometimes reproduced in poetry ideally, but without being 
 remarkably successful. 
 
 The inferior Senses— Touch, Odour, Taste— have their 
 pleasures, which are not excluded from poetic allusions and 
 descriptive efforts. A soft touch, a fragrant odour, or a 
 delicious taste can be conceived by us, and can add to the 
 charm of the object possessing the quality. Even the plea- 
 sures of eating and drinking may, in the ideal presentation, 
 be so far refined by remote suggestion, or euphemistic re- 
 ference, as to be admitted into the sphere of poetical treat- 
 ment. 
 
 When sense pleasures are ideally presented in their 
 purity, or nearly so, the effects are designated as Glitter, 
 Brilliancy, Glare, Sparkle, Lustre, Eefulgence, Eadiance, 
 Sensuousness. For producing them, the terminology of pure 
 sensation, and its ideas, has to be brought under the control 
 of the descriptive art, as well as under the general conditions 
 of excellence, positive and negative, for every form of Art 
 composition. 
 
 A somewhat higher class of effects, intermediate between 
 the foregoing and the Quality of Strength, are those desig- 
 nated by the names Gorgeous, Majestic, Glorious, Stately, 
 Dignified, Magnificence, Grandeur. In all these, there 
 is a certain effect of pure Strength, adorned by the sense 
 accompaniments of glitter and show ; the combination being 
 more imposing and impressive than Strength unadorned. 
 
 The pleasures of Movement, as in the Dance, are open 
 to poetic handling. They lend themselves to metrical ex- 
 pression, from their rhythmical character. It is enough to 
 refer to Gray's Ode on the ' Progress of Poesy,' I. 3. 
 
 Feasting, and its accompaniment. Hilarity and Joviality, 
 are often represented in language, as suggesting agreeable 
 ideas. The refined feasts of the gods in Homer, and the feasts 
 of angels in Milton, have the highest degree of refinement. 
 The ' draught of vintage,' in Keats's Nightingale Ode, is one
 
 PUKE SENSE EFFECTS. 319 
 
 of his finest effects. Scott is in his element in feasting. 
 (See his ' Christinas' in the Introduction to the Sixth Canto 
 of Marmion.) Wine and its alcohohc equivalents in diffe- 
 rent countries have received poetic celebration in all ages. 
 The effect is somewhat less gross and more inspiring than 
 mere food-nourishment, and leads to the subjective delinea- 
 tion of elated animal spirits. 
 
 Pope's 'Timon's Banquet' is sufficiently poetical, viewed 
 as Satire, which was the author's aim. 
 
 The hilarious is also allied with the healthy, or mere 
 organic sensation in moments of vigour. Professor Veitch 
 remarks : — ' This state may be described as one of open-air 
 feeling, and the chief sources of pleasure, and the things 
 principally noted, would naturally be the sunshine and 
 diffused brightness, the breeze, and the general fresh aspect 
 of earth and sky, connecting itself with a consciousness of 
 life and sensuous enjoyment. This state of feeling is no 
 doubt capable of expression, and readily lends itself as an 
 auxiliary to poetic description ; but in itself it is too vague 
 and indefinite to become the subject of pictorial delineation, 
 for a picture essentially demands vivid details.' 
 
 The limitation is so far just, that any representation 
 needs to be aided by the external circumstances that either 
 cause it, or fall in harmoniously with it. 
 
 Hilarity, as social or gregarious, has many features to 
 lay hold of, in the forms of collective rejoicing, which are 
 in their nature pictorial, and open to all the arts of descrip- 
 tion suited to the case. (See Feeling, Gre'jarious, p. 183.) 
 
 UTILITY. 
 
 The Associations with the Useful have been already 
 adverted to (pp. 8, 65) as important sources of Art pleasure. 
 They draw for aid upon the Beneficent Emotion, while being, 
 in the main, vaguely pleasurable. A large department of 
 Literature is devoted to the great discoveries of Utihty, 
 purely for the sake of the interest that they impart. The 
 description of Mining in the 28th chapter of Job (which 
 should be read in the Eevised Version) is raised to poetical 
 magnificence, by using fine sense effects, along with the 
 language of power. 
 
 What is wanted is to supply adequate expression for 
 the power at work, with splendour in the accompaniments,
 
 320 BESIDUAEY QUALITIES. 
 
 if possible, and beneficence in the results ; at the same time 
 there must be a careful eschewing of vulgar or unpleasing 
 adjuncts. 
 
 Certain phases of Nature lend themselves to the mar- 
 vellous, from the greatness of the results due to what 
 appear small causes. These are genuine cases of the 
 quality of Strength in its purest form. For example, the 
 simple fact that iron can take on two states, one soft and 
 pliable, the other hard and unyielding, is the foundation of 
 nearly all modern industrial art and civihzation. 
 
 Again, the law of the expansion of bodies by heat, and 
 their contraction by cold, is subject to a remarkable excep- 
 tion, in the case of water. When cooled to 39", it contracts 
 no farther, but expands down to the freezing point ; so that 
 ice floats on water warmer than itself. But for this fact, the 
 seas in the temperate and polar regions would be a mass of 
 ice, with only a superficial stratum of water in summer. 
 
 Compare with these the sensational saying of Carlyle — 
 ' Not a leaf that rots, but has force in it ' . The drift of the 
 remark would seem to be to illustrate Nature's greatness by 
 quoting one of its least dignified operations. Probably the 
 resistance to decay, the keeping of things alive, might be 
 turned to still better account for rousing emotion. 
 
 As instrumental to Utility, we may take in Order, Ar- 
 rangement, Plan, Method, Unity in Multiplicity ; all which 
 we regard with pleasure, whether with or without the 
 emotions of Strength on the one hand, and Feeling, as 
 Beneficence, on the other. Yet so valuable are these mighty 
 adjuncts, that they are rarely left unappealed to in the 
 celebration of Utility. Without them, dependence must be 
 placed on the multitude and volume of pleasing associations 
 of the miscellaneous sort, that can be awakened by means 
 of well-chosen allusions. 
 
 IMITATION. 
 
 The subject of Imitation, although in the closest alli- 
 ance with the production of the chief Emotional Qualities, 
 has a perfectly distinct and independent standing. What- 
 ever be the emotion in a poem or other piece of art, we 
 may gain a pleasure from its imitation of some original ; 
 and, when the effect is attained in its highest excellence, the
 
 THE PLEASUKE OP IMITATION DISTINCT. 321 
 
 pleasure is so appreciable as to stamp the work with value, 
 even in the absence of any other considerable merit. 
 
 The peculiarities and the conditions of successful Imita- 
 tion are most easily understood in connexion with the 
 schools of Painting. In modern Art, the imitative school 
 bulks largely, as regards both Nature and Humanity. In 
 the Dutch masters, we find pictures that, but for their imi- 
 tative skill, would be repellent instead of attractive. A 
 haggard old man or woman, that would give us little interest 
 in the actual, can be so expressively sketched by Eembrandt, 
 that we are irresistibly charmed by the work. Hogarth and 
 Wilkie have familiarized us with marvels of truthful delinea- 
 tion of subjects otherwise not remarkably interesting. So 
 with Turner, Millais, and the pre-Eaphaelites, and the 
 numerous realists that have been influenced by their ex- 
 ample, and by Euskin's teaching. 
 
 The delight in witnessing a very successful Imitation is 
 probably a complex effect, and is on that account all the 
 more intense. There are at least three assignable circum- 
 stances, appealing to our sensibility in different ways. One 
 is the ingenuity of reproducing upon an alien material the 
 exact impression of some original : as in reducmg a land- 
 scape or a human figure to canvas. Even when not done 
 by an artist's hand, as in photography, a high degree 
 of exactness in the imitation rouses us to a pleasing 
 wonderment. Literary instances are not very easily 
 distinguishable as imitation, having mostly some other 
 elements of interest present ; but there is a genuine stroke 
 in Chaucer's presentation of ground newly cleared of a 
 thick wood : — 
 
 The ground agast was of the lighte. 
 That was nought wont to seen the sonne brighte. 
 
 The second circumstance is the discovery of minute points 
 overlooked by us in our own observation of the original, 
 for which also we bestow a tribute of our admiration on 
 the artist's insight. A thu-d assignable peculiarity, which 
 is more within the sphere of literary art, is the represent- 
 ing of the minutest features, by some ingenious embodi- 
 ment that is not mere copying, but a higher or transcen- 
 dent reproduction, like the effect of well-chosen figures of 
 speech. The passage just quoted from Chaucer illustrates 
 this also. 
 
 15
 
 322 RESIDUARY QUALITIES. 
 
 All this artistic power may coexist with the production 
 of Strength, Feeling or Humour, or it may flourish in the 
 nearly total absence of one and all of these great effects. 
 The two alternative ends can hardly be conjoined in any- 
 thing approaching to perfection. Professor Veitch, in com- 
 menting on recent Scotch landscape painters, remarks : — 
 ' We should at the same time have greater cause of gratitude 
 if the artists in landscape would widen their range of vision, 
 look less to mere sensuous grandeur and impressiveness, 
 and be able to give us the power of the tender, the pathetic 
 and the solitary spirit, to be found chiefly through love and 
 holy passion and brooding reflection, in that district of Scot- 
 land which hes between the Pentlands and the Cheviots — 
 the weird wilds at the heads of the Tweed, the Yarrow, the 
 Ettrick and the Teviot '. This exactly sets forth the choice 
 as between the two aims of modern art. To carry Imitation 
 to the point where it aids the emotional qualities, and no 
 further, is to provide the greatest satisfaction to the be- 
 holder. For example, in order to Humour, Imitation must 
 so far give way to distortion, which is the essence of cari- 
 cature ; while the likeness that still remains constitutes the 
 effectiveness of the work. 
 
 As in Painting, so in Poetry, Imitation in its higher 
 flights is modern. In all the three distinguishable pecu- 
 liarities already indicated, we find the most successful 
 examples in recent literature. For the critical appreciation 
 of our greatest writers in poetry, and still more in prose 
 fistion, we need a terminology adapted to signify excellence 
 in the imitative function of art. 
 
 Imitation of particular individuals is the exceptional 
 instance. It may be conducted from a serious purpose, as in 
 adopting a distinguished man for a model, either in conduct 
 or in style. Most frequent, however, is the employment of 
 imitation in caricature or parody (p. 242). In such cases, 
 the triple test may be applied — closeness of resemblance, 
 original embodiments for creating surprise, and deviations 
 with a view to the ludicrous. 
 
 Pope's ' Addison ' is meant for vituperation ; but the 
 resemblance is obviously insufficient : had it been less so, 
 the effect would have been greater. This is the constant 
 danger of the caricaturist. The same applies to the eulogist 
 of great virtues and capabilities; it is the perception of 
 resemblance that disposes us to accept the eulogy.
 
 EXAMPLES OF SUCCESSFUL IMITATION. 323 
 
 The more usual form of Imitation is to depict character 
 types. Tlie writer and the reader are supposed to have 
 each in view exemplary instances, although not the same 
 individuals. Still, as regards well-marked types, a faithful 
 delineation by the writer will be responded to in the 
 experience of a certain number of readers ; and will 
 impart to them the pleasure that a good imitation gives, 
 whether or not accompanied by the leading emotional 
 qualities. 
 
 Chaucer's characters have often a remarkable basis 
 of truth-like fidelity, along with their appeal to our 
 other sensibilities. Thus, of the Schipman, it is said 
 — ' With many a tempest hadde his berd iDen schake '. 
 The Nun's French was ' after the scole of Stratford 
 atte Bowe '. 
 
 Goldsmith's characters in the Vicar of Walcefield have 
 always been admired for faithful personation of types, while 
 in other ways rendered interesting. Our great novelists, or 
 at least a large class of them, have usually aspired to this 
 excellence. 
 
 Shakespeare, in his characters, produces occa:,ionally, 
 although not habitually, strokes of effect that belong to 
 Imitation in its highest flights. The selecting of unobvious, 
 but yet intensely characteristic touches, and the further 
 effect of happy embodiment, can be found at their very 
 best. His Macbeth does not come within our experience of 
 known characters, and our sense of the general consistency 
 is extremely vague. Nevertheless, we are at once affected 
 by such expressive touches as his question, on hearing a 
 prayer, ' But wherefore could I not pronounce Amen ? ' 
 What strikes us is the suitability of the remark to the 
 situation, considered as an imitative embodiment. 
 
 Mrs. Quickly could be referred to for the same felicitous 
 touches of Shakespeare's character drawing. Where he had 
 opportunities of actual observation, he could combine fidelity 
 with caricature or other emotional interest. Of the Nurse 
 in ' Eomeo and Juliet,' Johnson has said, ' The Nurse is 
 one of the characters in which the author delighted ; he 
 has, with great subtlety of distinction, drawn her at once 
 loquacious and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty and 
 dishonest '. 
 
 Thackeray has, by iteration, attained to the consummate 
 personation of a flirt, and has combined exactness in the
 
 324 RESIDUARY QUALITIES. 
 
 resemblance with well-choseu touches of the other leading 
 qualities, as love-making and humour. 
 
 Moliere's type of the hypocrite in ' Tartuffe ' is a 
 splendid embodiment of a character familiar to our ex- 
 perience, and often reproduced in fiction. The pleasure 
 of resemblance is somewhat marred, in his case, by over- 
 doing the odious peculiarities of the character. Probably 
 the same is true of Dickens's 'Pecksniff'. And, although 
 exaggeration is not infrequent with Dickens, his genius of 
 selection and embodiment of expressive points is w^ell under- 
 stood ; especially for depreciation, both serious and conlic. 
 As a trifling but illustrative case, we may quote the inci- 
 dent of some one sitting in his room, while a friend tapped 
 at the door, and was answered — Cub id; a humorous 
 suggestion of cold in the head. 
 
 -oo^ 
 
 THE MEANING OF BEAUTY. 
 
 As already observed, the usual contrast to Beauty, as 
 an Art designation, is Sublimity. It supposes the full 
 reahzation of all the general attributes of artistic excellence, 
 as set forth under Aids to Qualities. 
 
 First of all, Beauty is opposed to Deformity or Ugliness. 
 It must realize an effect agreeable, and not repugnant, to a 
 certain number of our sensibilities. In the next place, it is 
 opposed to the Useful, as interpreted according to our 
 animal wants, — hunger, and so on. To gratify these is 
 pleasurable, but not the pleasure of Beauty. By a certain 
 refinement and selection, useful works may be brought 
 within the sphere of beauty, as, for example, buildings, 
 furniture and dress. 
 
 The contrast with the Sublime connects Beauty more 
 with Tenderness than with Strength. It is in aUiance with 
 quiescence and repose, rather than with energy, especially 
 in its maleficent moods. 
 
 A still narrower meaning might be given, by withdrawing 
 from the name the qualities both of Strength and Feehng, 
 and associating it with the pure Sense effects above de- 
 scribed, as complying with the general conditions of Art, and 
 stopping short of the special emotions. This is an abstract 
 possibility, very seldom realized for more than a few lines 
 together, but yet important to describe as a form of literary 
 excellence, to be occasionally aimed at.
 
 DESIGNATIONS FOK TASTE AND ITS OPPOSITES. 325 
 
 TASTE. 
 
 The designation Taste carries within itself nearly the 
 whole round of artistic qualities. When Fine Art, in any 
 of its modes, Sublimity, Beauty or Humour, is as it ought to 
 be, it is said to be ' in taste ' ; when any Art condition is 
 missed, the reproach of ' bad taste ' or ' want of taste ' is 
 merited. 
 
 The fact of this coincidence, however, is a proof that, 
 after a minute survey of the nature and conditions of Art 
 qualities, there is nothing further to be said under the ex- 
 press heading of Taste. 
 
 The opposites of Taste are the failures in some one or 
 more of the general conditions indicated under Aids to 
 Qualities, as Harmony, Ideality, Originality, Eefinement ; 
 or the failures in the great Emotional Qualities, as controlled 
 by these previous conditions. To treat of the subject in 
 detail, therefore, would be to re-open what has been already 
 discussed at sufficient length. We must be content with 
 indicating the proper mode of using the term, as a synonym 
 of artistic excellence. Its opposing designations contribute 
 to the expression of defects in a work of literary, or other, 
 fine Art. These are such as Coarseness, Vulgarity, Tawdri- 
 ness, Tinsel, IndeHcacy, Grossuess; Meretricious, Un- 
 polished, Eustic, Barbarous.
 
 Works OF Alexander Bain, LL.D., 
 
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