THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD ENDOWMENT FUND LETTERS ON LITERATURE, TASTE, AND COMPOSITION ADDRESSED TO HIS SON. "BY GEORGE GREGORY, D. D. LATE VICAR OF WEST-HAM, DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN TO THE BISHOP OF LLANDAFF, &C. &C. &C, IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I. LONDON: ''PRINTED FOR RICHARD PHILLIPS BRIDGE-STREET, BLACKFRIARS. 1808. T. Gillet, Crown-court, TN45 PREFACE. THE following Work is presented to the public as the last literary composi- tion which its well known Author lived to complete ; and it contains the result of various observations, made by a vigorous and cultivated mind, upon different sub- jects of taste and literature. It was con- cluded a very short time previous to his decease ; it assisted in cheering and en- gaging his mind, in soothing the languor of declining health, and in recalling the delightful remembrance of former asso- ciates, and of a long course of intellectual pursuits. To his friends these circum- stances will render the Work additionally valuable. They will, from the natural and best feelings of the human heart, 765438 IV PREFACE. cherish the relic which reminds them of those hours of social conversation when subjects of literature were discussed ; when they were illuminated by his scien- tific and enlightened mind, or exhilarated by his innocent and undissembled cheer- fulness. The public, we trust, will re- ceive the Work as the last performance of an Author whom they have long ap- pro vedj of one whose life was uniformly devoted to their, and his own, best in- terests : those of science, and literature; of religion, and virtue. VOL. I. LETTER I. Page Introduction. Principle of Association. Plea- sures from the Fine Arts 1 LETTER II. Style u LETTER III. Sources of fine Composition - -21 LETTER IV. The Sublime - - - . -28 LETTER V. The Pathetic - 40 LETTER VI. The Ludicrous ... 47 Works lately published by the same Author. POPULAR LECTURES on EXPERIMENTAL PHI- LOSOPHY, ASTRONOMY, and CHEMISTRY, intended chiefly for the Use of Students and Young Persons. In two volumes 12mo. illustrated by thirty-five superior engravings. Price 13s. in boards, and 14s. bound and lettered. A NEW CYCLOPEDIA; or, COMPENDIOUS DIC- TIONARY of ARTS and SCIENCES : including every Mo- dern Discovery, and the Present State of every Branch of Human Knowledge ; in a Series of One Hundred and Twenty Numbers, at One Shilling each, which will be published weekly till the Work is completed ; or the First Part of a Series of Twelve Monthly Parts, at Ten Shillings each ; or complete at once in two very large and closely printed vo- lumes in 4to. illustrated with One Hundred and Fifty supe- rior Engravings, price 61. 6s. in boards, or 61. 16s. 6d. bound. The following are the advantages which are promised to the purchasers of this work. I. It exhibits a compendium of all human knowledge, more luminous because cleared of all extraneous matter, in which that has teen preferred which is practical, to that which is speculative; and it is occupied chiefly by the most useful branches. II. It is of a convenient and comparatively portable size, calculated to lie on the table of every studious person, as a book of constant reference. The retrenchment of many su- perfluous and useless articles, having caused a considerable re- duction in size, without impairing the intrinsic value and ge- neral utility of the work. III. It is printed so as to correspond with the quarto edi- tions of Johnson's Dictionary; and the possessors of both works thus have, in a moderate compass, and at a moderate expence, all the compendious literary aid which can be de- sired in the form of a Dictionary. IV. It is neatly printed in a new and elegant type, on su- perfine yellow wove paper. The copper-plates have been engraved chiefly from original drawings, by the first artists, and are equal to any plates ever given to the public in a work of this nature ; and having been completed since every other, it demands a preference, as containing all the latest improve- ments and discoveries in every branch of knowledge. LETTERS ON LITERATURE AND COMPOSITION. LETTER I. Introduction. Principle of Association. Pleasures from thejine Arts. MY DEAR JOHN, WE live in an age when almost every thing is artificial. When not only rules are proposed for the performance of almost every action con- nected with social life, but when the grounds and principles on which those rules are founded constitute an object of anxious inquiry. Men have long agreed in regarding some things as pleasing ; but not satisfied with this, we are led to inquire whence they have derived their power to please, and on what principle in human na- ture it is that certain appearances, sounds or ideas are delightful to the human mind. VOL. i. B 2 INTRODUCTION. The pleasure which is imparted by the fine arts, and their power over the mind, are founded upon certain principles. We have not yet in- deed been enabled to mount to the source whence their controul over the passions is derived ; but by observing carefully certain effects, we can generally foretel when these effects will be pro- duced. Music is perhaps the simplest of all the fine arts : its power is derived entirely from the influence of certain sounds upon the organs of perception. It is impossible to say why some sounds or combinations of sound should be termed pathetic ; why some should excite hi- larity ; why some should be adapted to the passion of love, and why others should be assi- milated to joy and triumph ; yet so it is, and there is scarcely an ear so insensible to har- mony as not to have proved the force of music on one occasion or another. These effects upon the ear have been compared, and perhaps not without reason, to certain impressions produced upoa our other senses. " That strain again ; it had a dying fall, O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odour." SHAKS, PRINCIPLE 0F ASSOCIATION. $ To the eye some appearances, and even some colours, are productive of pleasure. It is ex- tremely difficult to analyze the sensation, and to account for the pleasing effect of some flowers more than others ; it depends upon the comb?- nation and arrangement of colours ; upon the regular disposition of the petals; upon some unknown circumstance even independent of the principle of association, something as uncon- nected with ideas of social pleasure or pain, as the vibrations of an ^Eolian harp. I find I have casually mentioned the word association, and it is necessary perhaps to enter upon a short explanation of it, since those plea- surable sensations, which may properly be called mental, and consequently those which are derived from the reading of poetry, or the beauties of composition in general, are not simple but complex sensations, derived, at least in part, from certain associations Avhich the mind has formed with other objects. It is exceedingly obvious that two or more sensations happening at the same time, the ideas will become united. Thus the ideas of the figure and colour of bodies admitted by the eye are always combined, and these may be still as- B2 4: PRINCIPLE OF ASSOCIATION. sociated with another idea admitted by means of the touch. Thus the idea, or picture formed in the mind of any object, is complex, or com- posed of several ideas united : of figure, colour, and perhaps softness or hardness also. If music is heard while we behold the instrument, the sound will be associated with the visible ap- pearance, and the former will recal the idea of the latter, even when we do not see the instru- ment. Names are associated with things, and things with actions. On this principle of association depends the necessary succession of ideas in a train, of which any one may satisfy himself by attending to the operations of his own mind : ideas are intro- duced by an agreement in some of the parts of which complex ideas are composed. Shak- speare, describing a merchant's fears, says, " My wind, cooling my broth, " Would blow me to an ague, when I thought " What harm a wind too great might do at sea. " I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, " But I should think of shallows and of flats ; " And see my wealthy Arg'sie dock'd in sand. " Should I go to church, " And see the holy edifice of stone, " And not bethink me strait of dangerous rocks?" PIUNCIPLE OF ASSOCIATION. 5 The association and train of ideas is perhaps still more pleasantly illustrated by .a story re- lated by Hobbes. " In a discourse on our pre- sent civil war (that in the reign of Charles I.), what," says he, " could seem more impertinent than to ask, as one did, the value of a Roman penny. Yet the coherence was to me suffi- ciently manifest. The thought of the war in- troduced the thought of the delivering up of the king to his enemies ; the thought of that brought in the thought of the delivering up of Christ ; and that again the thought of the thirty pence which was the price of that treason ; and thence easily followed that malicious question, and all that in an instant of time ; for thought is quick." I hope sufficient has been said to make you acquainted with what is meant by the associa- tion and train of ideas ; and what may appear a digression is in reality more connected with our subject than at first sight may appear. For much of the pleasure derived from the fine arts, and particularly from poetry and oratory, may be resolved, in part at least, into the prin- ciple of association. Many of the human pas- sions are chiefly, if not entirely, derived from O PLEASURES FROM it. Thus patriotism, or the strong attachment which almost every person feels for his country, is in a manner created from the pleasurable sen- Cations derived in our earliest youth from the enjoyments we have found there. The sight of the place where we have been happy always re- vives in us a placid, perhaps a melancholy idea of pleasure. But it is not necessary in a course of letters on rhetoric and criticism, to enter deeply into the philosophy of the human mind, of which, after all, but little is known ; and my wish is rather to make these letters practical than spe- culative. The pleasures afforded by the fine arts, music, painting, and poetry, have been termed ** the pleasures of the imagination," in contradiction to the sensual pleasures, though J confess music appears to approach very near to a mere pleasure of the sense ; and it is per- haps from its connexion with poetry, or rather from its subservience to it, that it has been class- ed among the superior arts, or those which ad- minister pleasure to the mind. The pleasures of the imagination are almost all in a considerable degree the result of associ- ation. If it \fas possible to present a finely THE FINE ARTS. 7 pictured landscape to a person who had never seen a natural landscape, one who had been born blind, and who was recently couched for instance, I much doubt whether he would de- rive from it any other pleasure than that which its novelty would afford. I question whether the harmony of the colouring, so much spoken of by painters, or the light and shade, would afford any peculiar pleasure. It is the recol- lection that is revived of the beauties of nature, of the happiness we have enjoyed in similar scenes, or possibly of that which we have heard described as flowing from them, and perhaps an admiration of the excellence of the imitation, that principally inspire us with pleasurable sen- sations on such an occasion. Hence the fine arts, and particularly paint- ing, sculpture, and poetry, have been termed the " imitative arts," because their chief ex- cellence depends upon their being an imitation or description of whatever is beautiful or strik- ing in nature. To apply all this to the immediate object of our correspondence. Nothing is more obvious than that some books are more pleasing than others; some forcibly occupy our attention, 8 PLEASURES FROM ; while some inevitably tire and disgust* It is very easy to see why a narrative or description, a fine history or a well-told fiction, a tragedy or a romance should interest. It is because it affords us a picture of ourselves, or of something in which our passions are naturally engaged. But why one composition should be even more pleasing in its manner than another, why the style and language of an author should parti- cularly interest us, is a more curious inquiry, and more remote from common observation. Should we be able to satisfy ourselves upon this subject, it is probable that even a practical benefit might result from it, since a person who is acquainted with the sources whence those ma- terials are derived which render a composition pleasing, will be better able to avail himself of them than one who writes at random, and with- out any knowledge of his ar,t. I am not one of those who affect to " write dull receipts how poems should be made." I know that the most intense study will not give what is called genius, or imagination, or fancy ; but still I must assert that every intellectual en- dowment may be improved. I must assert that writing, as far as chasteness, correctness, THE FINE ARTS. 9 elegance, and fluency are concerned, is as much an art as any other ; that it is in a great measure acquired by practice and study, by an imitation of the best models, and by occasion- ally referring even to principles and rules. That this is an undoubted truth must be con- fessed by any person who observes how much more numerous good, or at least tolerable writ- ers, are at present in this country than (hey were two centuries ago. Nature must create a Shakspeare, a Milton, a Pope, a Swift, an Ad- dison, a Johnson or a Gibbon. These were men possessed of most powerful imaginations, most pregnant fancies ; but it is chiefly art which produces the many smooth and elegant writers who flourish at all times in the inferior walks of literature. I knew a very old gentle- man of considerable talent who used to say, that in his youth it was a distinction to write well ; but that now even the essays in the common newspapers were composed in a correct and agreeable style. What I have now observed ought not to lessen the value of this accomplishment of writ- ing well in your opinion. The more general it is, the more indispensable it becomes. To B5 10 PLEASURES FROM THE FINE ARTS. be able to maintain an epistolary correspond- ence, with elegance and spirit, is now an essen- tial qualification in the character of every gen- tleman, I had almost said of every lady. Be- sides, that all public speaking, in whatever line, is a species of composition, and he will certainly be the most successful \vho> if pos- sessed of equal talents with his competitors, has made himself well acquainted with the rules and principles of eloquence. STYLE. 11 LETTER II. Style. MY DEAR JOHN, MY last letter concluded with recommending an inquiry why the style of one author should be more pleasing and interesting than that of another. If instruction was the sole end of reading, that style which conveyed knowledge in the simplest terms, with the greatest clear- ness and correctness, would be preferable to every other. This style has indeed its value, and even its beauty ; and in books of mere science ought to be preferred to every other. I shall have in future to make some observations on this subject, when I treat more particularly of the different kinds of composition ; but this is not our present object. We are now consi- dering the source of that pleasure which is de- rivable from the mere style, manner, or language of a literary production. Authors have distinguished between the d if- 12 STYLE. ferent styles ; and a grand division is into the plain, such as I have just now described, and the ornamented. I apprehend it is chiefly the ornamented that contributes to the mere plea- sure of a reader. You cannot be at a loss to know what I mean by an ornamented style; it is that in which lively description, similies, al- lusions, metaphors, and the other figures of rhetoric abound. Poetry always interests a reader of taste more than prose. The causes of this are the har- mony arising from the metre or the rhyme, and which (without entering into a metaphysi- cal inquiry as to the cause) may be referred to the same source as the pleasure which music af- fords. The other circumstance which renders poetry pleasing is the animated and figurative language, which is one of its characteristics. We may, I think, easily explain why the style of one literary work is more pleasing than that of another, upon the very same principles that the matter of one is more interesting than that of another. I observed that histories of great events, tragedies, or ingenious fictions of human actions and events, always interest more than any other literary productions, and the STYLE. 13 reason is, that they contain something that im- mediately comes within the sphere of self, and engages, and by an associated action excites our passions. It is of but little consequence whether the subject is fiction or reality. Robinson Crusoe, George Barnwell, and even Don Quixote, not to speak of the incomparable novel of Cecilia, interest, I will venture to say, more than Livy or than Hume. The same may be said of those plays of Shakspeare, which are notoriously founded on fiction, Hamlet, Othello, Cymbcl- line, Lear, the Merchant of Venice, &c., which are certainly not less interesting than his plays founded on the English history, though the latter are so far correspondent to fact, that many of the speeches are nearly a literal tran- script from the antient chronicles. It is the picture of the little world within that interests and agitates us ; it is that correspond- ent emotions are at once excited in ouf^minds by what we see or what we read, without re- ferring to the judgment, or examining the proofs as to the reality of what is presented to us. The very same principles I apprehend will apply to what is called an animated style, as 14: STYLE. lo an animated or interesting narrative or de- scription. That style will engage us most which calls up the most lively and vivid images, which upon the principle of association shall excite corresponding emotions in our mimls. I can cite a very decisive proof of what I have now asserted, in the well-known and in- comparable parable of the prophet Nathan. The effect of this parable, I assert, is princi- pally owing to the style or manner in which it is narrated ; and to prove it, we need only re- late the circumstance in the usual manner of a newspaper paragraph. " We haw it from the best authority, that Christopher Saveall, of the county of Salop, esq. the other day being surprized by the visit of a London friend and his family, and not be- ing immediately supplied with butcher's meat, and not chusing to take any of his own flock, they being of a curious breed, dispatched two of his servants to the house of Timothy Boor- man, a little farmer in the neighbourhood, who took forcibly thence, a pet lamb, which they immediately killed and dressed for the enter- tainment of the great man's guests." Here is nothing particularly affecting ; and STYLE. 15 yet in England such a circumstance is more likely to excite interest and indignation, than in any of those countries where the feudal sys- stera is at all predominant. It must then be from the styk or manner that this narrative has so powerful an effect over the heart, that a per- son of sensibility can scarcely read it without a tear. Let us examine. " There were," says the prophet to the royal sinner, not yet a penitent, " two men in one city; the one rich and the other poor." Here the different state and circumstances of the two parties are admirably contrasted, and it affords a beautiful and striking opening to thft narra- tive which is to follow. u The rich man," he proceeds, " had exceeding many flocks and herds." Here is a fine amplification, and yet so far from appearing forced it is absolutely ne- cessary, and the contrast is still preserved in the succeeding sentence : " But the poor man had nothing save one little ewe lamb" where, observe, the words u nothing," " little," ?.nd even the word " cue," which marks thcsvx, as more gentle and defenceless, are all emphatic, and increase the interest i time of place, 2d. Cause and effect. 3d. Resemblance or contrariety.* Under these heads may be correctly classed, the various causes of that fanciful agreement which produce risible emotions. I. Under that of contiguity we may arrange, 1st. Bodily singularities, including a gro* tesque dress or manner. 2d. Groups of contrasted figures, such as an old popular caricature which I remember, of " A Macaroni Alderman and his Rib." The one a squat bloated figure dressed in the extravagance of fashion, the other an extremely tall and meagre female in a dress remarkably prim and formal. I may instance another which is yet popular, " A country Clown placed be- tween a Counsellor and an Attorney." 3d. A confused assemblage of incongruous ideas, such as often takes place in a play to which you used to be partial, Cross Purposes; and in the ross readings of the newspaper columns. Of this kind of humour some ex- cellent specimens were afforded by the writers of the Rolliad, the Probationary Odes, &c. 4th. Mearrness and dignity brought together * See the Economy of Nature, b. x. c. 4r 52 THE LUDICROUS. in contact. Under this head we may class the anticlimax, and what the writers of Martinus *Scriblerus style the bathos one of the hap- piest specimens of which is, " And thou Dalhousie, the great god of war, " Lieutenant-colonel to the earl of Mar." Perhaps I might add a specimen from Mr. Pope himself " Grac'd as thou art with all the pow'r of words, " So known, so honour" d in the house of Lords." II. Under cause and effect we may place, 1st. Ironical reasoning, and much also of -what is called analogical reasoning, which is often as ridiculous as fanciful. As for in- stance " What does it signify (quoth Alberius) whether my nephew exceeds in the cursus or not ? Speed is often a symptom of cowardice, witness hares and deer." MEM. OF MART. SCRIB. 2d. Cause and effect not corresponding with each other whence 3d. Ridiculous hyperbole and rant " Behold a scene of misery and woe ! " Here Argus soon might weep himself quite blind, " Ev'n though he had Briareus hundred hands, ** To wipe those hundred eyes." THE LUDICROUS. 53 * He roar'd so loud, and look'd so wondrous grim, " His very shadow durst not follow him." 4th. Much of what is called caricature " Some have been beaten till they know " What wood a cudgel's of by the blow ; " Some kick'd, until they can feel whether " A shoe be Spanish or neat's leather." HUD. p. ii. 1. 2. III. But of all the relations that of resem- blance is the most fruitful of ludicrous ideas. 1st. Of these^ the more fanciful and unex- pected the resemblance, the greater in general will be the effect. Thus Butler describes the horse of his hero ? " The beast was sturdy, large, and tall,, " With mouth of meal and eyes of wall ;: " f would say eye, for h'ad but one, " As most agree, though some say none. " He was well stayM, and in his gait, * Preserv'd a grave majestic state. " At spur or switch no more he skipt, " Nor mended pace, than Spaniard wlript; " And yet so fiery, he would bound, " As if he griev'd to touch the ground ; " Thus Caesar's horse, who as fame goes, " Had corns upon his feet and toes, " Was not by half so tender hooft, " Nor trod upon the ground so soft TilE LUDICROUS. " And as that beast would kneel and stoop " (Some write) to take his rider up ; " So Htidibras his ('tis well-known) " Would often do to set him down." The -whole spirit of this passage, you will easily see, depends on the allusions. The ma- jestic state of the horse, which scorned to mend his pace, contrasted with the tenderness of his feet, and the comparison with that of Caesar, are highly ludicrous. Contrariety, or contrast, is classed under the same head of association, by logical writers, as resemblance,, and of the witty application of this we have a fine instance in the four last lines which I have just quoted ; and in the foU lowing from Swiffis verses on his death., " My female friends, whose tender hearts 11 Have better learn'd to act their parts, " Receive the news in doleful dumps : " The Dean is dead (pray what is trumps ?) " The Lord have mercy on his soul ! " (Ladies I'll venture for the vole). " Six deans they say must bear his pall,. . " (I wish I knew what king to call). " Madam, your husband will attend " The fun'ral of so good a friend ? w No madam, 'tis a shocking sight, ** And he's engag'd to -morrow night ; THE LUDICROUS. 55 " My Lady Club would take it ill, " If he should fail her "at quadrille. " He lov'd the Dean (I lead a heart) ; " But dearest friends, they say, must part.'* The most fruitful source of the burlesque and the mock-heroic is, when the allusion is from the great to the mean or little. " The Greeks renowned,, so Homer writes, " For well-soaled boots, as well as fights." HUD. The order is reversed, however, in some in- stances of the mock-heroic, as in the Lutrin of Boileau, and the charming Rape of the Lock* " This nymph, to the destruction of mankind, " Nourish'd two locks, which graceful hung behind " In equal curls, and wt-11 corrspir'd t&deck " With shining ringlets the smooth iv'ry neck. " Love in these labyrinths her slaves detains, " And mighty hearts are held in slender chains. " With hairy springes we tlie birds betray, " Slight lines of hair surprise the fiuny prey ; " Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare, " And beauty draws us with a single hair." In these lines, and in all the poem,- a slight circumstance is magnified into something of apparent importance. The card party is an- admirable instance in point 5> 2J1E LUDICROUS* " Behold four kings in majesty reverM, " With hoary whiskers and a forked beard ; " And four fair queens whose hands sustain a flower, " Th' expressive emblem of their softer power ; " Four knayes in garbs succinct, a trusty band, " Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand ; 4< And party-colour'd troops, a shining train, " Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain." I recommend to your perusal the whole de- scription of the card party, in which the allu- sion to a battle is finely supported. I may add a more ludicrous example : " The kettle-drum, whose sullen dub, " Sounds like the hooping of a tub." HUD. In all the instances of the ridiculous which I Lave quoted, you will easily see that the sud- denness of the combination forms the thief merit of the witticism, as in the description of the horse from Butler, where the author ap- pears to correct himself. " I should say eye, for h'ad but one, " As authors write, though some say none." A witty as well as most eloquent senator of our own times, has often employed this stroke of humour with infinite effect, appearing sud- dently to correct himself, when he would in* sinuate something in an indirect manner. THE LUDICROUS. 57 Crftics are not entirely agreed in defining the distinction between wit and humour. I am inclined to think it is more accurate to class risible objects as I have classed them, as de- pending upon the different sources of mental association. But if it was absolutely necessary to make the distinction, I would call that wit where the unexpected comparison or combine tion is made in the very words, as in the pas- sage of Hudibras, quoted by, I think, LortE Kaimcs " The sun had long since in the lap " Of Thetis taken out his nap ; " And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn " From black to red began to turn." Also what Dryden makes his renegado say of priests, which by the way is stolen by Mr. Jlume in one of liis essays " And having found what Archimedes want- ed, a new world to rest on, you move this world as you please " I would call that humour, on the contrary, when the mind of the hearer or reader is only led to make the comparison or combination, itself. Thus when a ludicrous character is de- picted, the reader's mind of itself opposes to it D5 58 THE LUDICROUS. the proper character. I may instance the two following lines : " And the gaunt mastiff, growling at the gate, " Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat." Where a number of opposite ideas are imme- diately excited without being expressed. I may quote also the description of Hudibras's- dagger " It was a serviceable dudgeon, " Either for fighting or for drudging. " When it had stabb'd or broke a head, " It would scrape trenchers, or chip bread ;; " Toast cheese or bacon, though it were " To bait a mousetrap, 'twould not care. " 'Twould make clean shoes, or in the earth " Set leeks, and onions, and so forth. " It had been 'prentice to a brewer, " Where this and more it did endure ; " But left the trade as many more " Have lately done on the same score." During the nine last lines the mind is con- stantly making a comparison between the low uses to which it has been applied, and the pro- per uses of a dagger. This appears to me the proper cause of the power of irony, thX'the reader's mind is con- stantly making a Comparison between, the al- THE LUDICROUS. 59 leg-ed motives, or character, and the real ones. Take as an instance Arbuthnot's account of what passed in London when the comet wa& expected : " If the reverend clergy shewed more con- cern than others, I charitably impute it to their great charge of souls ; and what confirmed me in this opinion was, that the degrees of appre- hension and terror could be distinguished to be greater or less, according to their ranks and degrees in the church." To the same cause we may attribute often the ludicrous effect of cant and low phrases, namely, that the mind contrasts them with the proper ones " For which the stubborn Greeks sat down, " So many years before Troy toivn." HUD, " Sir Hudibras had but one spur, " As wisely knowing could he stir " To active trot one side of's horse, " The other would not hang an arse." This definition of wit and humour will ac- cord with the two homely lines of Buckingham,, when speaking of comedy " Humour is all, wit should be only brought, " Dost sometimes counsel take, and sometimes tea." LANGUAGE. 62 LETTER VII. Language. Perspicuity. -Purity*. MY DEAB, JOHN,. HAVING laid before you the principal mate- rials or rather sources of good writing, I must now call your attention to a subject, which I fear you will think less interesting- and enter- taining, the correct and elegant use of lan- guage. The only foundation of a good style, as far as respects the use of words, is an extensive and accurate knowledge of the language in which we write. One of the principal advantages resulting from a knowledge of the dead lan- guages indeed is, that it acquaints us with the etymology of the many words which are de- rived from them,, and that is often the most certain guide to their correct application. A knowledge of the Saxon, which is not difficult in attainment, should be added, as well as of French, to make a man perfect master of the 62 LANGUAGE. radicals of his own language. Yet even this is not enough ; he must also carefully mark the different senses in which words are used by the best authors. Etymology will only lead us to the literal sense ; but the figurative senses are so various, that in some words the original and literal meaning is almost forgotten. Johnson's Dictionary, which is indeed the best Thesaurus I ever saw of any language, will greatly assist you in this respect. It ought to lie on the table of every young writer. I have often found great amusement in turning over its leaves^ and observing the different uses to which the same word has been applied ac- cording to the genius of different writers. It affords also an encouragement to this kind of study (which would otherwise be what is called dry)) by the beauty and utility of the quo- tations which the author employs to illus- trate his definitions. To Dr. Johnson every subsequent English author owes unutterable obligations. He has made straight the paths of British literature, and has even strewed them with flowers. But a true command of language is at last only to be gained by a diligent perusal of the LANGUAGE. 63 best authors. Rules and precepts may enable you to avoid some faults, but they never cant give elegance and freedom ; that magic power which calls up at once the most appropriate terms, and arranges them in the best order. On this account young writers should be wise in their choice of books, and read none which are not written in the best style, at least while employed in the immediate study of composi- tion. I have thought that I derived much ad- vantage from accustoming myself before I sat down ta compose, always to read a few pages in some good writer, whose spirit I should wish to catch, as best adapted to the subject on which I was to write. I have heard it said of that great master in the art of painting, Sir Joshua Reynolds, that he always finished his most ex- quisite paintings with some picture of the an- cient masters near him, which harmonized with, his subject, and not only kept his imagination in correspondence with it, but even served to invigorate and maintain the enthusiasm of genius. A young writer should however not peruse cursorily, but study intensely the best authors. When you read an animated and fine descrip- PERSPICUTy. tion,.it may be of service to lay down the book, and pause and consider how you would have tlescribed the same scene, or the same action ^ whether you would have chosen the same figures or phrases, or placed the object in a similar light. Style may be divided into two kinds, the plain and the ornamented. To a perfect style of either description three qualities are indis- pensibly necessary, perspiouit?/, purity and harmony ; and the plainer the style the more indispensible are these requisites. " By perspicuity (says Quinctilian) care is taken, not that the hearer may understand if he will ; but that he must understand whether he will or not." Many authors plead the nature of their studies as an excuse for not being per- spicuous ; but as writing clearly depends on our ideas being clear, it can never be an ex? cuse to say to the world, we do not understand the subject of .which we mean to treat. Per- spicuity will depend, in the first place, on the choice of words, and secondly, on the arrange- ment of them. As far as regards the choice of words, obscurity results, in the first place, From obsolete or afiected language, whicJu PERSPICUITY. 65 is not generally understood. The following phrases in our liturgy were, at the time it was composed, good English ; but no man at pre- sent could employ the words in the same sense. " Prevent us, O Lord, in all our doings," &c. " O Lord, deal not with us //erour sins*, neither reward us after our iniquities." In the apostles' creed also^ " the quick and the dead'* would be more intelligible than " the living and the dead." Many abuses of words have been introduced from the French idiom. Lard Bolingbroke, for instance, says, " by the persons I intend here," instead of I mean. Analogous to this is the use of Latinisms, as integrity to denote entireness ; conscience for consciousness i " The conscience of approving one's self a be- nefactor to mankind is the noblest recompense for being so." SPECTATOR. Again, obscurity proceeds from the use of ambiguous or indefinite words. Examples of this occur in the following sentences : " As for such animals as are mortal (or noxious), we have a right to destroy them." GUARDIAN^ No. 61. " The Christians rudely disturbed the service of paganism ; and rushing in crowds sound the tribunals of the magistrates, called 66 PERSPICUITl". upon them to pronounce and inflict the sen- tence of the law." GIBBON. Here it is not easy to define what service is meant, whether civil or religious. A similar ambiguity may be found in the same author. Speaking of the cruelty of Valentinian, the historian adds : " The merit of Maximin, who had slaughtered the noblest families of Rome, was rewarded with the royal approbation and the prefecture of Gaul. Two fierce and enormous bears, dis- tinguished by the appellations of Innocence and Uricanurea, could alone deserve to share the favour of Maximin." IB. It is evident. that we must have recourse to the context to understand that these creatures were not the favourites of Maximin, but of Valentinian. The following are instances of ambiguity in the use of the same word in different senses : " Wealth and honour,, or what we impro- perly call our interests, have now an ascendant over us ; and the passion for each is rarely gra- tified but at the expence of some virtue. And thus it comes to pass, that though we set out in. the world with a warm sense of truth and honour j experience by degrees refines us out of these principles." KURD'S SEJIM. v. iu s. 3. PERSPICUITY. 67 *' That he should be in earnest it is hard to conceive ; since any reasons of doubt which he might have in this case would have been rea- sons of doubt in the case of other men, who may give wore, but cannot give more evident, signs of thought than their fellow creatures." BOLINGBIIOKE'S PHILOSOPHICAL. ESSAYS, i. s. 9. Here the word more is first an adjective, the comparative of many ; and then an adverb and the sign of the comparative degree. It should be thus reformed " Who may give more numerous, but cannot," &c. " Who may give more, but cannot give clearer signs," A writer on criticism has the following sen- tence : " There appears to be a remarkable difference betwixt one of the first of ancient and of modern critics." OGILVIE. The em- barrassment of this sentence would have been entirely avoided, by inserting the words one of thejirst a second time, which probably an ap- prehension of offending the ear prevented.. The cases are so very numerous, in which an author in the choice of words, or an imprudent use of them, may darken the expression, that it would be almost impossible to prescribe any definite rules upon the subject. Perfection, ia 68 PERSPICUITY^ this respect, is only to be acquired by practice^ Possibly the following remarks may be of some use to young writers. 1st. As I before advised, endeavour to in- form yourself perfectly concerning the etymo- logy and meaning of words .. 2d. Consult the best modern authors, and observe their different applications. The ori- ginal sense is not always a certain guide in the use .of- common words ; though, if nicely at- tended to, it will sometimes h^lp us to the rea- sons of theit application. 3d. Be not too anxious for variety of expres- sion. It is well observed by the Abbe Gfrard,. that when a performance grows dull, it is not so. much because the ear is tired by the fre- quent repetition of the same sound, as because the mind is fatigued by the frequent occur- reace of the same idea. Lastly, We cannot be too much on our guard against the vulgar idiom. Most writers who affect ease and fami- liarity in writing, are apt to slide into it : " But ease in writing flows from art, not chance, " As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance." 4th. That ambiguity, as well as inaccuracy, PERSPICUITY. 69 is not uncommonly the effect of introducing the vulgar phraseology into written composi- tion, is evident from the very incorrect and absurd use of the verb to lay, instead of the neuter verb to lie. This solecism has arisen, I presume, from confounding the past tense of the latter with the present of the former verb. Let it be observed, however, that when a noun follows in the objective case, the verb active (to lay) may be used : as, to lay down an em- ployment ; and sometimes when the verb is re- flected or neutralized ; as, " Soft on the flow'ry herb I found one laid.'* But, to say u Death lays upon her like an un- timely frost," or to say " I have a work laying by me," would be a gross and intolerable bar- barism . 5th. There are certain elliptical forms of ex- pression in common use which require care in the use of them, least the sense should be ob- scured to the reader, though to the writer it may appear sufficiently clear. e. g. " You ought to contemn all the wit in the world against you." GUARDIAN. 70 PERSPICUITY. In this sentence, it is remarked by a modern critic, the author does not certainly mean that all the wit in the world is actually exerted against the person he addresses ; and therefore he should have expressed himself thus : " You ought to despise all the wit, however great it may be, that can be employed against you." " I beg of you (says Steele) never let the glory of our nation, who made France tremble, and yet has the gentleness to be unable to bear opposition from the meanest of his own coun* trymen, be calumniated in so imprudent a manner, as in the insinuation that he affected a perpetual dictatorship.'* It is difficult in this sentence to find at first the antecedent to the pronouns who, his, and he ; but on con- sideration, it appears that the glory means the Duke of Marlborough, and the difficulty is un- ravelled. Had the ellipsis been filled up with some such phrase as " the man whom we may justly term the glory, &c." no ambiguity could have occurred. 6th. There are in common use certain phrases which are in themselves equivocal, and consequently often produce obscurity. Such ^PERSPICUITY. 71 as, not the least, not the smallest, nothing Jess, which are sometimes expressive of magnitude, and sometimes of the contrary. e. g. " Your character, &c. assure me, you will not think that clergymen, when injured, hav6 the least right to your protection." GUAR- DIAN, No. 80. " He aimed at nothing less than the crown," which may imply that he was far from aiming at ; or it may signify that nothing less would satisfy him. " I will have mercy and not sacrifice, 1 ' would be better, " I will squire mercy," &c. Hos. yii. 6. u Our English is, among those dialects, one that I think more capable of improvement than any otlrer." MONBODDO ON LANGUAGE, p. ii. b. 1, c. 7. 7th. Hypothetical or contingent expressions often produce obscurity when intended to re- present real facts. For instance, u If he be- stowed the gold to relieve the more painful dis- tress of a friend, the sacrifice is of some weight." GIBBON, vol. iv. p. 265, " The supine ignorance of the nobles was incapable of discerning the tendency of such 72 PERSPICUITY. representations ; they might sometimes chas- tise, with words and blows, the plebeian refor- mer; bathe was often suffered," &c. GIK- ITON, p- 574\ The obscurity arising from bad arrangement is, however, worse than that which arises from the ill choice of words. Perspicuity is in- jured^ in this respect, in the following in- stances: 1st. By separating the adjective from its proper substantive: " They chose to indulge themselves in the hour of natural festivity." Better " in the natural hour of festivity." 2d. By using the same pronoun in reference to different persons or things in the same sen- tence : " And they did all eat and were filled: and they took up of the fragments that re* mained twelve baskets full." By the last they it is difficult to say who are meant, the multi- tude or only the disciples. 3d. By the indiscreet or wrong placing of the relative : " Solomon, the son of David, who built the temple of Jerusalem, was the richest monarch of his time." Again, " So- lomon, the son of David, who was persecuted by Saul, was the richest," &c. The who in PERSPlCt'ITY. 73 the first sentence relates to Solomon, and in the second to David, and yet is similarly situated. It would be better therefore to give a different turn to the sentence, and say " Solomon the son of David, and the builder of the temple," &c. " Solomon, whose father David was per- secuted," &c. " The laws of nature are truly what my Lord Bacon styles his aphorisms, laws of laws. Civil laws are always imperfect, and often false deductions from them) or applications of them; nay, they stand in many instances in opposi- tion to them." BOLINGBROKE. is monotony. Though one of the chief excellencies of Mr. Hume was his ear, yet I think a reader of nice perceptions will find his style exceedingly monotonous, as well as his vocabulary scanty. He had more taste than genius. A style to be perfect must be varied in the sound as well as in the language, with a happy mixture of long and short sentences, and the periods not all rounded alike. Harmony may also be consulted both in the choice of words, and in the mode of placing them. 1st. An attention to harmony demands that we should reject, if we can find synonimous terms, such long, heavy and compound words as barefacedness, zcrongheadedness, tenderheart- edness, &c. 2dly. We should be sparing in the use of sucli as crowd together a number of short syl- lables, and in which the accent is tlirown so far back as to give an appearance of stammering in the utterance, such as prirri&rily, cursorily, summarily, peremptorily, peremptoriness, Sac. 3dly. Such as repeat the alike syllable in an awkward and unmusical manner, as holily, far- riery, sillily, &c. In the collocation of words we should als VOL. i. F 98 HARMONY. carefully avoid an hiatus, if possible ; and I conceive it may be generally done by a slight inversion or transposition. Swift, whose taste in prose composition I never can approve, though I cannot sufficiently admire his genius, was very angry with the custom of abbreviating the eths in the third per- son singular of verbs, and reducing them to a plain s. The truth is however, that the 5 in these instances is pronounced like z, which is not a hissing, but a very musical letter ; and I may appeal to any ear, whether has, and dies, and lies, are not more harmonious than hath, dietk, and lieth. Whether it may not have arisen from an early association I am uncertain ; from the Scriptures being translated into this kind of language, and its being used by old and vene- rable writers ; but the use of the termination eth in the third person seems to me only adapted to solemn or sublime writing. It is well em- ployed by the translator of Ossian, but is stiff and pedantic in Shaftsbury and Swift. Dr. Middle' on, instead of wishing with Swift to abridge the number of monosyllables, adds a very uncouth one to them, by cutting off the HARMONY. 99 last syllable from the word often; and Mr. Rowe, to soften the language) abridges the mo- nosyllable l/icni, by taking away the th when the preceding word ends with a consonant. But in general I disapprove of all such abbre- viations. They have a tendency to corrupt the structure of our language, without im- proving its harmony ; and are now properly rejected by all good writers. From what I have stated in the course of this letter, you will perceive that there is a style na- turally suited, even in point of harmony j metre, or cadence to particular subjects. The grave and solemn require an equal and majestic suc- cession of sounds ; the more violent passions may have longer and fuller periods with more rapidity. But the notion of suiting the sound to the sense, or rather mimicking the motions or the sounds you describe, though attempted by Pope, and recommended by Blair, is. ex- tremely puerile, either in prose or verse. The infelicity of Mr. Pope's imitations of this kind ought to be a caution to others not to attempt it. Had his lines ' When Ajax strives some mighty weight to throw, " The line too labours, and the words move slow ; F2 100 .HARMONY. " Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, " Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the been all the author meant them in this respect, the merit would not have been great. It would have only been like the declaimer who acts his words. Such frivolous attempts are beneath a man of great genius, who, if he has an ear, and is really warmed with his subject, may ge- nerally trust to the former to accompany the latter with the appropriate words and sounds. But though the rules of art cannot furnish that important qualification a good ear, still the ear is, I believe, capable of improvement in style, as well as in vocal or instrumental music. I would therefore recommend, as an exercise, that you would occasionally compose one or more sentences on any given subjects, and try afterwards to alter the arrangement of the words in different ways, till you find that which is most sonorous, and most likely to please in de- livery ; or if you would read over your dif- ferent attempts to some friend who had a really good ear, the exercise would be more perfect. Another practice which will improve you, not only in harmony, but in fluency and ele- SENTENCES. 101 gance of style, is to read over carefully a short passage in any good author, Addison, Johnson, Robertson pr Gibbon ; close the book, and try to express the ideas as nearly as you can in their manner. Then compare your attempt with the original. I do not mean to advise you to play the part" of a mere imitator, when you write from your- self; for every author should have a style of his own ; but by such exercises as these you will acquire a command of language, and a taste for beauty and harmony. Before I proceed to the ornamental part of style, properly so called, I wish to premise a few words more connected perhaps with the preceding subject. I might have introduced what I have now to state under the head of perspicuity, but that it is in &ome measure con- nected also with harmony ; I mean the graceful and elegant construction of a sentence. Aris- totle's definition of a sentence is absurd, be- cause it will apply to almost any thing as well as a sentence, and does not give you an idea of that which it is intended to describe. "It is, says he, "a speech, or saying, which has a beginning and end within itself." Dr. Blair is 102 SENTENCES. much better, who calls it " a simple proposi- tion or enunciation of thought ;" and Dr. Lowth's, with some slight correction, will per- haps be found the most perfect, and comes re- commended by its plainness and simplicity: u An assemblage of words, which in themselves make a complete sense." Though this is a good definition of a sen- tence, yet it must not be understood to imply that every sentence is confined to the expres- sion of one single act, such as requires only a noun and a verb, with possibly an objective case, such as " He is gone to London." A sentence may embrace several members, or little sentences within it, subservient to the principal and governing sense. These litter are called compound sentences ; and such are the majo- rity of those which occur in composition. It is upon selecting properly what members dught to be admitted into a sentence, and ar- ranging them with judgment, that the diffi- culty in this branch of composition depends ; and you will find as much difference in this re- spect between the sentences of a master in com- position, and those of a 1 beginner or an unskil- ful practitioner, as between the motions of the SENTENCES. 103 most graceful stage dancer, and the arrantcst clown. The first rule that I shall lay down with re- spect to the structure of a sentence, depends immediately upon the definition I have just adopted, that it shall contain one clear propo- sition or enunciation of thought ; and therefore you must be careful never to crowd those cir- cumstances into one sentence, which would be better dispersed into two or more : I select an example from Sir William Temple's Essay on Poetry. " The usual acceptation," says he, " takes profit and pleasure for two different things, and not only calls the followers or votaries of them by the several names of busy and idle men, but distinguishes the faculties of the mind, that are conversant about them, calling the operations of the first wisdom, and of the other wit, which is a Saxon word, used to express what the Spa- niards and Italians call ingegno, and the French esprit, both from the Latin ; though I think wit more particularly signifies that of poetry, as may occur in remarks on the Runic lan- guage. Nothing can possibly be more confused than 104 SENTENCES. this sentence, which, to be rendered intelligible, requires to be divided into at least two or three. We have another in Lord Shaftsbury's rhap- sody, where he treats of the sun's influence, monstrous animals, and then of man, all in one period. " The sun," says he, " breaks the icy fet- ters of the main, when vast sea-monsters pierce through floating islands, with arms that can withstand the crystal rocks ; whilst others, that of themselves seem great as islands, are by their bulk alone armed against all but man, whose superiority over creatures of such stupendous size and force, should make him mindful of his privilege of reason, and force him humbly to adore that great Composer of these wondrous frames, and the author of his own superior wis- dom." From these, and other examples, which will frequently occur in the course of your reading, you will find that the complaint against long sentences arises not so much from their length, as from their perplexity ; from their implicat- ing too many circumstances to admit of their being clearly comprehended by the mind at one view. This is often not the mere fault of dul- SENTENCES. WO ness, which naturally obscures every thing, but it may arise from the exuberance of genius, which is apt to comprize, at a single glance, a vast variety of matter, and to imagine that what is easily understood by itself must be equally so by others. A very little consideration will shew you that the whole of the obscurity in the first sentence which I have quoted from Sir William Temple may be removed, and with scarcely any multi- plication of words, by merely breaking it into three ; for instance : ' " The usual acceptation takes profit and pleasure for two different things, and calls their respective votaries by the distinct names of the busy and the idle. A similar distinction pre- vails even with respect to the faculties of the mind which are conversant about these different objects, and the operations of the one are called wisdom, those of the other wit. This last word is of Saxon origin, and is used to express what the Spaniards and Italians call ingenio, and the French esprit, both from the Latin ; though { am of opinion that wit is more immediately applicable to poetry," &c. There is another sentence quoted by Dr. Blair F5 106 SENTENCES. from Swift's " Proposal for correcting the Eng- lish Language," which is almost equally ob- scure, and which might be rectified with equal facility. After noticing the state of our lan- guage under Cromwel, he adds : " To this suc- ceeded that licentiousness which entered with the Restoration, and from infecting our religion and morals, fell to corrupting our language ; which last was not like to be much improved by those who at that time made up the court of King Charles II. ; either such as had followed him in his banishment, or who had been alto- gether conversant in the dialect of these fanatic times ; or young men who had been educated in the same country ; so that the court, which used to be the standard of correctness and pro- priety of speech, was then, and I think has ever since continued the worst school in Eng- land for that accomplishment ; and so will re- main, till better care be taken of the education of our nobility, that they may set out into the world with some foundation of literature, in order to qualify them for patterns of polite- ness." I should perhaps propose some more exten- sive alterations in this sentence was I to survey SENTENCES. 107 it throughout wilh a critical eye; but the ob- scurity, as well as the tediousness of a long pe- riod, will be removed even by so simple an al- teration as the following : u To this succeeded that licentiousness which entered with the Restoration, and in consequence of which, not merely our religion and morals, but even our language, was corrupted. Our language indeed was not likely to be improved by those who formed the court of Charles IL That court consisted either of such as had fol- lowed him into banishment, or had been alto- gether conversant in the dialect of those fanatic times ; or else of young men who had been educated in the same country with himself. Thus the court, which before had been the standard of correctness and propriety of speech, was then, and I tkink has ever since continued, the worst school in England for that accom- plishment. Such indeed I fear it will remain, till better care is taken of the education of our nobility, in order that they may enter upon life with some foundation of literature, to qualify them to appear as patterns of politeness." The 2d rule that I propose, is to be careful of the too frequent or indiscreet use of paren- 108 SENTENCES. theses. They should always arise out of the subject, and yet be so far unconnected with it, that the sense inclosed within the brackets shall be complete in itself, and such as might be spared wi hout destroying the sense of the pe- riod. A parenthesis should also be short, and not consist of many members ; otherwise it vrill become inevitably blended with the main sense, or the latter will be even forgotten by the reader. I have said parentheses should not be too frequent ; yet in oratorical, or animated com- position, they have sometimes both force and beauty. Mr. Gibbon was a great master in the use of them Two casually occur to my mindj and therefore are not to be regarded as his best : " The nobles were taught to seek a sure and in- dependent revenue from their estates, instead of adorning their splendid beggary by the op- pression of the people, or (what is much the same) by the favour of the court." II The Christians and the Moslems enumerate (and perhaps multiply) the illustrious victims that were sacrificed to the zeal, avarice, or re- sentment of the old man (as he was corruptly styled) of the mountain." 3dly. "When it is practicable, let the sentence SENTENCES. 109 close with the principal and emphatical words. The genius of the English language admits of very small transposition, and therefore we are more confined in this respect than the Greeks or Romans. Quinctilian recommends that the principal word should be placed near the end of a sentence ; and the antients generally ended their periods with a verb. In English we cannot observe the same rule. We ought, however, to place important words where they appear to most advantage : and the most proper place seems to be the begin- ning or end of a sentence. Of the proper dis- position of the principal words, we have a fine example from Lord Shaftsbury, comparing the modern poets with the antients : " And if whilst they profess only to please, they secretly advise and give instruction, they may now perhaps, as well as formerly, be esteemed with justice the best and most honour- able among authors." By putting the sentence in a different order, we shall be easily convinced how much beauty is lost by bad arrangement. " And if whilst they profess to please only, they advise secretly and give instruction, they 110 SENTENCES. may justly be esteemed the best and most ho- nourable among authors now, perhaps as well as formerly." Here the adverbs only and secretly, being put after the verbs, and the sentence ending with a particle, makes the whole period dis- agreeable, but they are disposed by the author where they scarcely can be observed. We are to remember, however, that particles may con elude a sentence when they are words of im- portance, as in this sentence of Lord Boling- broke concerning his friends : " In their prosperity they shall never hear of me, in their adversity always." Agreeably to this rule we ought to avoid such words at the end of our sentences as only mark the cases of nouns, e. g. " Avarice is a crime which wise men are often guilty of." And a certain author speaking of the Trinity, says, " This is a mystery, which we firmly believe the truth of, and humbly adore the depth of." The fault and the correction of it are both obvious ; it ought to have been expressed thus : " This is a mystery, the truth of which we SENTENCES. Ill firmly believe, and the depth of which -we humbly adore. v Compound verbs should seldom be used at the end of sentences ; and the pronoun it is ge- nerally a very improper close. 4thly. We should endeavour to contrive that the members of our sentences shall rise upon one another, and beware of making the last sen- tence the echo of the former. This kind of arrangement is called a climax, when, as we proceed, every member seems to grow in importance. Cicero particularly stu- died this grace of composition ; and there is a fine example of it in his oration for Milo : " Si res, si vir, si tempus ullum dignum fuit, certe, haec in ilia causa, summa oinnia fuerunt." We have another example in Lord Boling- broke's idea of a Patriot King : " This decency, this grace, this propriety of manners and character is so essential to princes in particular, that whenever it is ne- glected, their virtues lose a great degree of lustre, and their defects acquire much aggra- vation. Nay more ; by neglecting this de- cency and this grace, and for want of a suffi- cient regard to appearances, even their virtues 112 SENTENCES. may betray them into failings, their failings into vices, and their vices into habits unworthy of princes, and unworthy of men." The finest instance of climax extant is, how- ever, that of St. Paul, 2 Cor. xi. 22, &c. " Are they Hebrews ? so ana I ; are they Is- raelites ? so am I ; are they the seed of Abra- ham ? so am I. Are they the ministers of Christ ? (I speak as a fool) I am more : in la- bours more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft." The instance mentioned of Crassus by Cicero in his treatise " De Oratore," is also worth your attention. In examining a witness who ap- peared against his client " Perhaps, said the orator, the person spoke these words only in a passion ?" The witness not making any re- ply, he proceeded " Perhaps you did not rightly understand him ?" The witness conti- nuing silent, he adds " Perhaps you did not hear it at all ?" From all that has been said you will be pre- pared for my 5th and last observation, which is, that the most ungraceful circumstance in com- position is what I may call a kind of appendix to a sentence : something added after the na- SENTENCES. 113 lural close, and which is frequently even of a very trivial nature, or which might have been included in the body of the sentence. Dr. Blair very properly terms such sentences " more than finished," and as I have his work before me, and no better instances occur, I shall give you the two that he has quoted. In the first of these the words succeeding the natural close, which is " indignation," might have been omitted ; and in the second, you will see the appended words are better included in the body of the sentence. Sir William Temple, speaking of Burnet's Theory of the Earth, and Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds, observes : " The first could not end his learned treatise without a panegyric of modem learning in comparison of the antient ; and the other falls so grossly into the censure of the old poetry, and preference of the new, that I could not read either of these strains without some indigna- tion ; which no quality among men is so apt to raise in me as self sufficiency." The other instance is from Swift's Letter to a Young Clergyman : " With these writings young divines are 114 SENTENCES. more conversant than with those of Demos- thenes, who by many degrees excelled the other ; at least as an orator." The proper correction of this sentence need scarcely be pointed out : " With these writings young divines are niore conversant than with those of Demos- thenes, who, at least as an orator, by many degrees excelled the other." Much has been said by critical writers, but to little purpose, on the subject of long and short sentences. I have already explained why what are called long sentences are usually faulty : it is because they are perplexed by in- volving the matter of two or three, and this is generally the case with Clarendon's " Periods of a Mile," as they are well entitled by a judi- cious modern poet. Sometimes they have an appendix attached to them, and in old writers frequently conclude with a by, a with, an of, or some other insignificant word ; otherwise where a sentence is clear, and strong, and well compacted, it is never the worse for being long, if kept within, the bounds of moderation. Mr. Burke, who was a model of every grace and excellence of composition, was remarkable for SENTENCES. 115 the length of his periods ; but they were at the same time full and sonorous. If it were asked, however, to what species of composition long or short sentences are most adapted, I would say that long sentences are the language of oratory, short sentences of conver- sation. Grave and studied composition best ac- cords with a length of period, and some degree of inversion of language is then an excellence, since it serves to dignify and raise it above the level of colloquial discourse. For the gay and familiar, short sentences are best adapted ; as such composition is commonly an imitation of common conversation. On this account Mon- tesquieu's Spirit of Laws is a most ill-written book. The number of short sentences tires ex- cessively ; and they succeed each other so rapidly, as not to leave impressions sufficiently strong and distinct. Composition purely didactic, however, in which there is no appeal to the passions, ought not to abound in very long sentences, nor should there be much departure from the natural order of the words. I would almost prescribe the same rule for narrative, especially where there is no description. Where, however, descrip- 116 SENTENCES. tion is introduced, there is room for a display of eloquence, and then the composition may assume something of a rhetorical cast. For reasons which I shall afterwards assign, I think Mr. Hume's history very faulty ; but I cannot deny him the praise of a clear and unaffected style, which renders his narrative generally intelligible and pleasant. Mr. Gibbon, on the contrary, has more eloquence, and he describes better than he narrates. After all that I have urged on this topic, you will derive more of practical improvement from the careful perusal of good authors, than from any rules that can be laid down. Take Pope, Addison, Burke, Robertson, Johnson, (particularly the preface to his dictionary) and Gibbon ; and observe carefully how each of these great writers has arranged his words, and constructed his periods. You will find some- thing characteristic in each with respect to the harmony of their numbers, and the structure of their sentences ; but though I advise you to study them all, I do not recommend a servile imitation of any. If I was to propose a model for general use, it would be the style of Mr. Addison ; for in copying, that you are copying SENTENCES. 117 the expression of nature itself. He is sufficiently pure though not faultless. He is always per- spicuous, natural and easy. In harmony he has never been excelled ; and his periods are. constructed with the art, dexterity and prompti- tude of a master workman. They are never deficient in grace, though it must be allowed that sometimes they want strength, but that was not an object considering the nature of his subjects. On this account Mr. Addison shewed his judgment in not attempting the part of an orator in parliament. His style was not adapted to it. In fine, to use the words of an incompa- rable critic, and biographer : " Whoever wishes to attain an English siyle, familiar but not coarse, elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Ad- dison." US ORNAMENT. LETTER IX. Ornament. Amplification. MY DEAR JOHN, THE real ornaments of composition, whether prose or poetry, can proceed only from genius, from a mind rich in such ideas as are the fruits of observation, active in forming combinations, and nice in selecting such as are interesting and beautiful, and adapted to the subject. This observation will naturally recal to your me- mory what I have advanced in my second let- ter, that it is the clear and striking display of a number of circumstances which are calculated to exhibit a picture strongly to the mind, that renders a style interesting and animated. Com- pare the description of the storm in Virgil's first jEneid, that of Milton's Death and Sin, or the account of a battle by a Livy or a Gibbon, with the narratives or descriptions of ordinary writers, and you will soon perceive the magic touch of genras. ORNAMENT. 119 An historian, or even a poet, might have ex- pressed or described the surprise of the north- ern invaders at finding themselves transported from a bleak and unfriendly region, to the ge- nial climate of Italy, and yet not raise the emo- tions -which Mr. Gray excites even in a few lines " With grim delight the brood of winter view, " A brighter day, and skies of azure hue ; " Scent the new fragrance of the breathing rose, *' And quaff the pendant vintage as it grows." Here even every epithet speaks something to the purpose : the " grim delight," the " brood of winter," the brightness of the day, and the " skies of azure hue," the rose, and the grape, so beautifully introduced, are all picturesque, and have a finer effect than a formal descrip- tion. Again Shakspeare might have moralized, as many a popular preacher does, upon the pro- gress of human life from infancy to manhood, and its subsequent decline and melancholy ter- mination. He might have compared it to a drama, remarked on the variety of characters which we are called upon by Providence to as- 120 ORNAMENT. sume ; and he might have concluded, like the gentleman to whom I have alluded, with some good common-place remark, as " he is a happy man, who plays well the part which is assigned him." But this would not attract and engage the reader like the picture which he draws of the different and almost contrasted characters in which the same man may be appointed to appear " All the world's a stage, " And all the men and women merely players ; " They have their exits, and their entrances ; " And one man in his time plays many parts, " His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, " Mewling and puking, in the nurse's arms : " And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel, " And shining morning face, creeping like snail " Unwillingly to school : and then, the lover ; " Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad " Made to his mistress' eye-brow : then, a soldier ; " Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, " Zealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, " Seeking the bubble reputation " Even in the cannon's mouth : and then, the justice ; " In fair round belly^ with good capon lin'd, " With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, " Full of wise saws and modern instances, " And so he plays his part : the sixth age shifts AMPLIFICATION. 121 " Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ; " With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; " His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide " For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, " Turning again towards childish treble, pipes *' And whistles in his sound : Last scene of all, " That ends this strange eventful history, " Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; " Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing." I select this well-known passage, because from its being familiar to you, it will more strongly impress upon your mind the doctrine I wish to enforce. I had read many accounts of the first cru- sades, but I never saw them, till depicted by the animating pencil of Gibbon. " The 15th of August had been fixed in the council of Clermont for the departure of the pilgrims : but the day was anticipated by the thoughtless and needy crowd of plebeians ; and I shall briefly dispatch the calamities which they inflicted and suffered, before I enter on the more serious and successful enterprise of the chiefs. Early in the spring, from the con- fines of France and Lorraine, above sixty thou- sand of the populace of both sexes flocked round the first missionary of the cmsade 5 and VOL. I. G 122 AMPLIFICATION. pressed him with clamorous importunity to lead them to the holy sepulchre. The hermit, as- suming the character, without the talents or au- thority, of a general, impelled or obeyed the forward impulse of his votaries along the banks of the Rhine and Danube. Their wants and numbers soon compelled them to separate, and his lieutenant, Walter the Pennyless, a valiant, though needy soldier, conducted a vanguard of pilgrims, whose condition may be determined from the proportion of eight horsemen to fifteen thousand foot. The example and footsteps of Peter were closely pursued by another fanatic, the monk of Godescal, whose summons had swept away fifteen or twenty thousand peasants from the villages of Germany. Their rear was again pressed by an herd of two hundred thou- sand, the most stupid and savage refuse of the people, who mingled with their devotion a bru- tal licence of rapine, prostitution, and drunken- ness. Some counts, and gentlemen, at the head of three thousand horse, attended the motions of the multitude to partake in the spoil ; but their genuine leaders (may we credit such fol- Jy ?) were a goose and a goat, who were carried in the front, and to whom these worthy Chris- AMPLIFICATION. 125 tians ascribed an infusion of the divine spi* rit." Though brevity is a characteristic of the sa- cred writers, yet theyare no strangers to that kind of amplification which gives an energy and an interest to their observations. Languor and feebleness are the characteristics of old age, but how beautifully is this expressed ia the fol- lowing passage: " Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh when thou shalt say I have no pleasure in them. u While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars be not darkened, nor the clouds re* turn after the rain. In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders (rather millers or men that grind,) cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened, and the doors shall be shut in the streets, when (he sound of the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and all the daughters of music shall be brought low ; also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the 124: AMPLIFICATION. and the almond tree shall flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a burthen, and desire shall fail : because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets." From the first paragraph that I have quoted, the style is highly figurative, expressive of the failure of the senses, and of the animal powers. The decay of sight is expressed by the light of the sun and the moon and the stars (all ampli- fication) being darkened. The loss of strength by the " keepers of the house (the hands and arms I believe) trembling ;" and " the strong men," (the limbs) bowing themselves. " The millers, or men that grind, ceasing because they are few," evidently alludes to the loss of the teeth ; and the failure of the sight is again de- scribed under the figure of " those who look out at the windows being darkened." I cannot say that 1 understand the meaning of the phrase " the almond tree shall flourish;" but the expression " the grasshopper shall be a burthen, and desire shall fail," is inexpres- sibly beautiful, and the finest description, in few words, that I ever saw of the extreme debility, and helplessness of old age. The concluding expression is so striking that it has become pro* AMPLIFICATION. 125 rerbial, " because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets." In poetry there is more exercise for the ima- gination, and consequently more opportunity for this kind of amplification than in any prose .composition whatever. The poems of Gold- smith, which, being of the descriptive kind, afford the most ample scope, are almost entirely composed of it. Take as an example, the charming character of the village preacher from the Deserted Village " Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd, " And still where many a garden flower grows wild, " There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, " The village preacher's modest mansion rose. " 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 chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place; " Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r, " By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour; " Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize, " More "bent to raise the wretched than to rise. " His house was known to all the vagrant train, " He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain ; " The long remember'd beggar was his guest, *' Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;. 126 AMPLIFICATION. " The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, " Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ; " The broken soldier kindly bade to stay, " Sat by his fire, and talk r d the night away ; " Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, " Shoulder'd his crutch, and shew'd how fields were worx " Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow, " And quite forgot their vices in their woe; " Careless their merits or their faults to scan, " His pity gave ere charity began. I cannot resist the temptation of adding th* portrait of the schoolmaster u Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, " With blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay, " There in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, " The village master taught his little school : " A man severe he was, and stem to view, *' I knew him well, and every truant knew ; " Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace " The day's disasters in his morning face ; " Full well they laugh'd, with counterfeited glee, " At all hisjokes, for many a joke had he; " Full well the busy whisper, circling round, " Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd; " Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught, " The love he bore to learning was his fault ; " The village all declar'd how much he knew ^ " Twas certain he could write and cypher too AMPLIFICATION. If *' Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, " And ev'n the story ran that he could gauge : " In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill, " For ev'n though vanquish'd he could argue still ; " While words of learned length, and thund'ring sound, " Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around ; " And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew " That one small head should carry all he knew." You will easily see that these two characters might have been delineated in few words ; but the enumeration and display of all the little cir- cumstances that serve to mark them, renders the picture striking and perfect. But though poetry affords the finest field for this exercise of the fancy, so convinced were the antients of its necessity to fine composition, that they proposed certain topics or common places to assist the memory in bringing forward every thing that served to illustrate a subject. Aristotle's Rhetoric, which I would have you read as the curious effort of the most methodi- cal understanding that ever existed, is chiefly a collection of these topics. The topics, or common places, they distributed into two kinds ; general or metaphysical topics; ,or particular topics. Of the first kind were happiness, vir* 128 AMPLIFICATION. tue, Ihe profitable, the good, &c. &c. ; parti- cular topics regarded men, places, or times. Thus under the general topic or division hap- piness, they would enumerate health, security, power, nobility, friends, children, fame, suc- cess, disposition, wealth, &c. Under the particular topic person, they would have regard to sex, age, fortune, education, ability, family, offices,. &c. Thus in descanting upon the excellence and utility of any virtue, and to shew how it con- tributed to happiness, by turning to that gene- ral topic, the orator or the student would be led to argue how far it was essential to health, to security, to fame, &c. Or in delineating a character, by glancing his eye on his common-place book, he would be led to declare what the person was as to birth, fortune, education, ability, offices, connexions, &c. This method is however too mechanical to be pursued by a person of genius, and none but a person of genius will ever succeed in amplification on any subject. Yet I think I may recommend to you, when you are to write on any subject, to sit down previously and AMPLIFICATION". consider it in all its parts, circumstances and relations, and even to take notes of those topics on which it may be proper to enlarge. la short, though amplification may not be neces- sary to plain didactic or narrative composition^ it may be fairly inferred that almost all the beauties of fine, writing will proceed more or less from a judicious application of this prin- ciple. I must repeat, however, that it depends en- tirely on the taste and judgment of the author to select such circumstances as are really strik- ing, for nothing can be more stupid than an amplified detail of trifling matters. It would be a very instructive exercise, if a judicious tutor in rhetoric was to give occasionally his pupils, as themes on which to enlarge, some general heads ; as some well-known character in history, the imaginary description of a land- scape, a battle, a garden, &c. Or you may do the same for yourself, taking a subject from Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon ; writing your own thoughts upon it, and afterwards com- paring your effort with that of the author. M . Rollin produces some of these subjects to which GO ISO AMPLIFICATION. I shall refer, in order to enable you to pursue with more effect this excellent exercise of the youthful mind. " The Iheme is to display the religion and piety of marshal Turenne, even in the midst of battles and victories. '* The writer must begin with a common- place, to represent how difficult it is for a gene- ral, at the head of a great army, neither to be elate with pride, nor to consider himself infi- nitely superior to the rest of mankind. Even the aspect of the war r the noise of arms, the cries of soldiers, &c. conspire to make him for- get what he himself and what God is. It was on such occasions, Salmoneus, Antiochus, and Pharaohy had the presumption and impiety to think themselves gods ; but it must be confessed that religion and humility never appear more illustrious, than when they render a man sub- missive and obedient to God in such high for- tunes. " It was on such occasions that M. Turenne gave the greatest proofs of his piety : he was often seen to withdraw into woods, and, in the midst of tfjc rain and dirt, prostrate himself AMPLIFICATION. 131 before God. He ordered prayers to be said in the camp every day, at which he assisted in person with singular devotion. " Even in the heat of battle, when success appeared infallible, and news was brought him of it from all quarters, he used to suppress the joy of the officers, by saying.; * If God does not support us, and finish his own work, we may still be defeated.' * This subject, as treated by M. Mascaron, in the funeral oration of M. Turenne. " Do not imagine that our hero lost those re- ligious sentiments at the head of armies, and in the midst of victories. Certainly, if there is' any conjuncture in which the soul, full of it- self, is in danger of forgetting God, it is in those illustrious stations where a man becomes as a god to others, by the wisdom of his condticf, the greatness of his courage, the strength of his arm, and the number of his soldiers; and, be- ing wholly inspired with glory, inspires all be- sides with love, admiration, or terror. Even the externals of war, the sound of trumpets, the glitter of arms, the order of the tioops, the si- lence of the soldiers, their ardor in fight ; the AMPLIFICATION. beginning 1 , progress, and end of the victory ; the different cries of the conquered and the conquerors ; all these assail the soul on different sides, which, deprived of all wisdom and mo- deration, knows neither God, nor itself. It is then the impious Salmoneus presumes to imi- tate the thunder of God, and to answer the thunderbolts of Heaven with those of the earth. It was then the sacrilegious Antiochus worship- ped nothing but his own strength and courage ; and the insolent Pharaoh, swoln with the pride of his power, cried out, I am my own maker. But do religion and humility ever appear more majestic, than when they keep the heart of man, though in so exalted a point of glory, in that submission and dependence which the crea- ture ought to observe with regard to his God ? " M. Turenne was never more sensible that there was a God, than on those extraordinary occasions, when others generally forget their Creator. It was then his prayers were most fervent. We have seen him retiring into woods, where, in the midst of rain, with his knees in the dirt, he adored that God in this humble posture, before whom legions of angels tremble, and prostrate themselves. The Israelites, to AMPLIFICATION. 135 secure themselves of victory, ordered the ark of the covenant to be brought into (heir camp : and M . Turenne did not believe his could be safe, if not fortified daily by the oblation of the divine victim, who triumphed over all the powers of hell. He assisted at it with a devo- tion and modesty capable of inspiring awe in those obdurate souls, on whom the sight of the most tremendous mysteries makes no impres- sion. " Even in the progress of victory itself, and in those moments of self-love, when a general sees fortune declare in his favour, his piety was watchful to prevent his giving the jealous God the least offence, by too hasty an assurance of conquering. Though the cries of victory echoed round him ; though the officers flattered them- selves and him also with assurance of success ; he still checked all the extreme emotions of joy, in which human pride has so great a share, by these words, highly worthy of his piety : Jf God does not support us, and accomplish his work, we may still be defeated." ROLLIN. The modesty of M. Turenne. His private life. " No person ever spoke more modestly of 134 AMPLIFICATION. himself than M. Turenne. He related his mosl surprising victories, as if he had no share in them. At his return from the most glorious campaigns, he avoided praise, and was afraid of appearing in the king's presence, for fear of applause. It was then, in a private state, among a few friends, he exercised himself in the virlues of civil life. He conceals himself, and walks without attendance or equipage : but every one observes and admires him." This theme extended by Flechier* " Who ever performed such great exploits,, and who more reserved in speaking of them 2 When he gained an advantage, he himself as- cribed it to the enemy's oversight, and not to his own abilities. When he gave an account of a battle, he forgot nothing,, but its being gained by his own conduct. If he related any of those actions which had rendered him so fa- mous, one would have concluded he had only been a spectator, and might doubt whether he himself or fame was mistaken. When he re- turned from those glorious campaigns, which immortalize him, he avoided all acclamations of the people ; he blushed at his victories j he AMPLIFICATION. 135 received applauses with the same air that others make apologies, and was almost afraid of wait- ing upon the king, being obliged, through re- spect, to hear patiently the encomiums with which his Majesty never failed to honour him. " It was then, in the calm repose of a pri- vate state, that this prince, divesting himself of all the glory he had acquired in the field, and shutting himself up with a small company of chosen friends, practised in silence the vir- tues of civil life : sincere in his words, plain in his actions, faithful in friendship, exact in du- ties, regular in his wishes, and great even in the minutest things. He concealed himself; but his fame discovers him. He walks without at- tendance ; but every one images him riding in a triumphal chariot. When people see him, they count the number of the enemies he ha* conquered, and not the attendants that follow him. Though alone, they conceive him sur- rounded with his attendant virtues and victories. There is something inexpressibly great and noble in this virtuous simplicity ; and the less haughty he is, the more venerable he ap- pears." ROLLIN 136 AMPLIFICATION. The Queen of England's escape by sea. " The queen was obliged to leave her king- dom. She sailed out of the English ports in sight of the rebel fleet, which pursued her close. This voyage was far different from that she had made on the same sea, when she went to take possession of the sceptre of great Britain. At that time every thing was propitious ; now all the reverse." " *The queen was obliged to leave her king- dom. And indeed she sailed out of the Eng lish ports in sight of the rebellious navy, which chased her so close, that she almost heard their cries and insolent threats. Alas ! how different was this voyage from that she made on the same sea, when, corning to take possession of the sceptre of Great Britain, she saw the billows smooth themselves, as it were, under her, to pay homage to the queen of the seas ! Now chased, pursued, by her implacable enemies; who had been so audacious as to draw up an- accusation against her : sometimes just escaped, * The queen of England's funeral oration, by M. Bos- suet. AMPLIFICATION. 137 sometimes just taken ; her fortune shifting every quarter of an hour, having no other assistance but God, and her own invincible fortitude, she had neither winds nor sails enough to favour her precipitate flight." ROLLIN. Perhaps the following instance from Mr. Burke will be still more pleasing, and I am sure it is more eloquent than those I have just quoted. You will observe that he might have said the whole in few words that Mr. Howard evinced his philanthropy in foregoing every comfort, and despising every danger, for the sake of relieving the distresses of his fellow creatures " I cannot name this gentleman without re- marking, that his labours and writings have done much to open the eyes and hearts of man- kind. He has visited all Europe not to sur- vey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the state- liness of temples ; not to make accurate mea- surements of the remains of antient grandeur ; nor to form a scale of the curiosify of modern art ; nor to collect medals, or collate manu- scripts : but to dive into the depth of dun- geons ; to plunge into the infection of hospi- tals; to survey the mansions of sorrow and 138 AMPLIFICATION. pain ; to take the gauge and dimensions of mi- sery, depression, and contempt ; to remember the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to vi- sit the forsaken, and to compare and collate the distresses of all men in all countries. His plan is original ; and it is as full of genius as it is of humanity. It was a voyage of disco- very ; a circumnavigation of charity. Already the benefit of his labour is felt more or less in every country : I hope he anticipates his final reward, by seeing- all its effects fully realized in his own. He will receive, not by retail but in gross, the reward of those who visit the prU soner ; and he has so forestalled and monopo- lized this branch of charity, that there will be, I trust, little room to merit by such acts of benevolence hereafter." ADDRESS TO THE ELECTORS OF BRISTOL. The beauty of this last quotation depends not entirely on the lively detail of circumstances connected with the subject, but on allusions to matters really foreign to it ; and of these I shall tr,eat in my succeeding letter. FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 139 LETTER X. Figurative Language. Comparisons and ^Si- milies. MY DEAR JOHN, A VIVID imagination is not satisfied with bringing before the reader's mind all the cir- cumstances immediately connected with the principal subject, and placing them in a strik- ing point of view ; it borrows colours and forms from other objects to diversify and adorn the picture it draws " The poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling, " Doth glance from heav'n to earth, from earth to hea- ven; " And, as imagination bodies forth " The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen " Turns them to shape," &c. You will easily perceive that I am now go- ing to speak of figurative language. It is called figurative, because the author's meaning is ex- pressed, not by the strict and proper phrases, but under the image or appearance of some- 140 .FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. thing else. Thus figurative language, if taken according to the literal sense of the words, would usually mislead. It is extraordinary, however, that what ap- pears a deviation from nature or reason should be so extremely common, that scarcely a sen- tence occurs without some word in it used in a figurative sense. Indeed if you will read with attention Mr. Tooke's " Epea Pteroenta" (a work which every one ought to read) you will find that our most common particles are words distorted from their natural and primitive mean- ing. Dr. Blair used to remark on this subject, that at the moment he was speaking on a di- dactic subject, he was addressing his audience in figurative language. The origin of figures has been referred. to the poverty of language ; but I rather consider them either as the sport of the fancy, or as the expression of passion or enthusiasm. We see imagery, and especially from natural objects, employed by the rudest and most savage na- tions, not from necessity, but from choice. The few specimens which we have had trans- lated of Indian eloquence are abundantly figura- tive, and no writings can be more conspicuous. FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 141 in this respect than the earliest productions of the Arabians. The writings of the Hebrews proceed from a higher source than mere human invention, yet we may easily conceive them, in style and manner, adapted to the circumstances of (lie age and the taste of the people. They are highly figurative, and that most accurate critic, Bishop L/owth, in his incomparable " Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the He- brews," has shewn that their imagery was all derived from those objects with which, from the time and situation of the country and nation, they were most familiar. This branch of ornament is much more easily reduced to rule and methodical arrangement than that of which I have just been treating, But though it is easy to class the different forms of figurative language, still treatises on rhetoric will afford you as little substantial aid in this instance as in the former ; for however reluctant the professor in this art may be, to own a truth destructive of his very profession, still he must confess with Butler ; " That all a rhetorician's rules '" Teach nothing but to name his tools.*' 142 FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. It is genius alone that can enable you to use them ; and it is a mind copiously stored with knowledge that can furnish the materials. The only essential service that can be rendered to a young writer in this way, is to caution him against the indiscreet and indiscriminate use of this species of ornament : for though its effect, is fine in impassioned composition, and under the direction of a good taste, nothing can be more vapid, cold, and disgusting than a style overcharged with common-place metaphors arid comparisons. Figurative language, it is obvious^ must de- pend upon the principle of association, and of the three relations cause and effect, contiguity, and resemblance ; the latter is the most fertile in the production of tropes and figures. That fancy which is most excursive, and which is the best stored with various knowledge, will be the most active in forming the combinations essential to figurative language. The various knowledge which extended to the detail of al- most every subject in nature, and in art, is most conspicuous in Shakspeare, and in Butler ; and among the moderns none have excelled Mr. FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 143 Burke in the boldness and variety of his ima- gery. I shall not perplex you with the distinction between tropes and figures ; but since I have casually mentioned them, and since the words will often occur in conversation, I shall observe that in truth, each of these words is but a par- tial mode of expressing the same thing. A trope 9 -foiro* in Greek, signifies no more than the turn-' ing of a word from its original meaning. Fi- gure, as I before observed, i when an idea is expressed under the appearance of some- thing else. The antient critics classed as tropes the metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, and irony; the figures were almost innumerable. Leaving then to Farnaby, and his brethren, the many useless distinctions which the Greeks have made as to what are called figures, I shall proceed to treat of those forms of expression, in the order which is suggested by the three rela- tions of resemblance, contiguity, and cause and effect. From the relation of resemblance proceed the comparison or simile, the metaphor, the alle- gory, and the allusion ; on the other relations COMPARISONS AND SIMILIES. depend the metonymy, the synecdoche, the pe- riphrasis, the prosopopeia, and probably the apostrophe. The comparison appears to be the first and most natural of all the rhetorical figures. When at a loss to explain our meaning, we are dis- posed always to apply to the associating prin- ciple to furnish an illustration. In this way, a comparison may occur in the simplest and plainest composition, even in a lecture on ex- perimental philosophy. But I wish rather to treat of them here as a source of ornament, and when judiciously ap- plied there is scarcely any ornament more pleasing. I must observe, however, that the mind of the author must be supposed to be in a cool state, when it descends to this sport of the imagination. Simiiies are not the natural language of passion ; they will apply in descrip- tion, in narrative, but will not serve to express the vehement emotions of the mind; since then, if the imagination is disposed to be excursive, it will naturally drop the words expressing the resemblance, and snatching the image forcibly at once, express itself in metaphor. COMPARISONS AND SIMIL1ES. 145 Hence you will perceive that the difference between a simile and a metaphor is, thai in the former the resemblance is brought before the reader's view by comparing the ideas together, and by words expressing a likeness ; a meta- phor is a comparison without the words ex- pressing resemblance. I may add, that a dis- tinction might be established between the words comparison and simile. The former is the ge- neral word comprehending the whole class, or when used in a limited sense, is more immedi- ately appropriated to the most perfect of the kind ; that in which the resemblance is minutely traced through all the agreeing parts of the ob- jects assimilated. The word simile seems chiefly appropriated to poetry ; and I think implies a slighter and more fanciful resemblance. The Hebrew writings are unquestionably the oldest that have been transmitted to us : their imagery is almost exclusively derived from na- tural objects ; this imparts to them a simplicity which can be attributed to no other writings. vSome of theij: comparisons are however remark- ably bold, and some incomparably beautiful, as you will see by consulting a work, which VOL. I. H 146 COMPARISONS AND SIMILIES. contributed beyond any other to the improve* ment of my taste, Bishop Lowth's Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews. One imperfection, however, I have to remark in the similies of the Hebrews, and of the Ori- entals in general, that the resemblance is often too fanciful and remote. Of this I shall pro* duce an instance from the book of Job) c. vi. v. 1520. " My brethren have dealt deceitfully as a brook, and as the stream of brooks they pass away : which are blackish by reason of the ice, and wherein the snow is hid. What time they were warm they vanish : when it is hot they consume out of their place. The paths of their way are turned aside : they go to nothing and perish. The troops of Tema looked, the com- panions of Sheba waited for them. They were confounded because they had hoped ; they came thither and were ashamed." The 133d Psalm consists of one of these fan- ciful sirailies, but it is extremely beautiful. It is somewhat amplified by Buchanan, and in translating it I made use of a part of his ima* gery. COMPARISONS AND SlMlLlES. 147 Sweet is the love that mutual glows Within each brother's breast ; And binds in gentlest bonds each heart, All blessing, and all blest. Sweet as the odorous balsam ponrM On Aaron's sacred head, Which o'er his beard, and down his vest, A breatliing fragrance shed. Like morning dews on Sion's motmt, That spread their silver rays; And deck with gems the verdant pomp That Herman's top displays. Another particular may also be remarked, which is, that the Hebrew similies are frequently very short. The resemblance usually turns upon a single circumstance, which they ex- plain in few words, and seldom introduce any matter at all foreign to the purpose. The classical writers are more sparing of their similies, and they introduce them with greater pomp and fqrni. There is however a disgusting sameness in those of the antient epic poets. In their descriptions of battles, for in- stance, the imagery of a lion, a bull, an eagle, and others of the fiercer animals so commonl 148 COMPARISON'S AND SIMILIES. occurs, that I am frequently more disposed to pass over their similies than to stop and admire them. The modern writers are possessed of consi- derable advantages, in this respect, and to these they have not been inattentive. The more extensive views which they possess of sciences, and arts, and of the history of nature in parti- cular, has opened to them a wider and more varied field in poetical imagery. They now decorate our gravest productions, and sur- prize by their novelty and fanciful application. A very beautiful comparison presents itself at this moment to my memory, from the elegant and lively sermons of Dr. Ogden. In one of his discourses against slander " Censure," says the preacher, "is in season so very seldom, that it may be compared to that bitter plant, which hardly comes to its maturity in the life of a man, and is said to flower but once in a hundred years." The following is fanciful, yet perhaps the transitory nature, as well as the splendour of traditional fame, is well imagined under this image " Then let us be renowned while we may, and leave our fame behind us, like the COMPARISONS AND SIMIL1ES. 149 last beams of the sun, -when he hides his red head in the west." OSSIAN. From yhat I have observed, it will follow, that the author who possesses the greatest scope of knowledge, if he has an active and lively fancy, will have the greatest command of ima- gery, and will produce the boldest and most varied comparisons. Yet the metaphysical poets of Charles the Second's reign, as they are very properly termed by Dr. Johnson, were guilty of such abuses that they disgust us with the figurative style. Their imagery was not select, nor under the regulation of good taste ; without which even genius itself will be able to effect but little. Several rules have therefore been established with respect to the use of com- parisons, which may serve to restrain the vi- cious exuberances of youthful genius. i 1st. A comparison taken from a common or vulgar object, should have something particu- larly ingenious in it to render it tolerable. I shall not name the poet from whom the follow- ing distich is extracted, but you will be surprised to know that he is of a very high reputation. " The rage of jealousy then fired his soul, ft And hi face kindled like a burning coal." 150 COMPARISONS AND SIMILIES. Such nonsense as the following is scarcely ta be endured " A good sermon, like a good peach, is indeed a composition of rich material*.. which the maker has associated to bring it to its proper flavour, but which the eater may re- lish, and from which he may derive nourish- ment without being obliged to learn chemistry,, or knowing how to decompound, and reduce the whole to its parts." ROBINSON'S TRANS- LATION OP CLAUSE'S ESSAY, c. 4. NOTE. Even Dr. Campbell, who has written so well on the principles of rhetoric, is scarcely more fortunate " A paraphrase," he observes, " is like a torpedo, for it benumbs the sense ; and the gospel, by this means, becomes like a wine of a rich flavour, diluted in such a quantity of water as renders it extremely vapid." The same simile, by the way, lie has repeated in another place. Yon must however be aware that compari- sons taken from low and mean objects are well adapted to the burlesque. 2dly. They ought not ta be trite ; such as comparing a violent passion to a tempest ; vir- tue to the sun ; one in, distress to a flower droop- ing its head. COMPARISONS AND S1MILIES. 151 Sdly. Comparisons or similies ought to be founded on a likeness neither too obvious nor too remote : if the likeness is too obvious it dis- gusts, if too remote it perplexes; in the one case the reader easily perceives it, and there- fore conceives the writer to be a person of in- ferior genius ; in the other ease it savours of af- fectation ami pedantry. Some of Milton's seem of too obvious a kind, where he compares Eve to a Dryad, and the bower of Paradise to the arbour of Pomona. For there appears no art or ingenuity in saying one arbour is like ano- ther, or that a woman resembles a wood nymph. 4thly. They should not be drawn from ob- jects quite unknown, for these, instead of throw- ing light upon a subject, can only serve to ren- der it more obscure. Sthly. From what I have observed before, neither this nor any other figure should be bor- rowed from metaphysical ideas. But for the incomparable exposure of this fault I refer you to Dr. Johnson's Life of the poet Cowley* 152 METAPHORS. LETTER XL Metaphors, MY DEAR JOHN, 1 OBSERVED in my last letter tiat a meta- phor is a comparison, without the words indi- cating resemblance. When a savage experi- enced a sensation, for which he had as yet no name, he applied that of the idea which most resembled it, in order to explain himself. Thus the words expressing the faculties of the mind are taken from sensible images, as fancy from phantasm : idea in the original language means an image or picture ; and a way has always been used to express the mode of attaining our end or desire. There is, however, as I have already express- ed, another reason for the use of metaphorical language, and which, in an advanced state of society, is the most common ; that is, when the mind is agitated, the associations are more strongly felt, and the connected ideas will more readily present themselves than at another time. On this account a man in a passion will fre- METAPHORS. 153 quently reject the words which simply express kis thoughts, and for the sake of giving them more force, will make use of images stronger, more lively, and more congenial to the tone of his mind. The principal advantage which the metaphor possesses over the simile or comparison, seems to consist in the former transporting the mind, and carrying it nearer the reality than the lat- ter ; as when we say" Achilles rushed like a lion," we have only the idea of a man going on furiously to battle ; but when we say instead of Achilles u The lion rushed on," the image is more vivid. Thus also when Virgil calls the Scipios " the thunderbolts of war," the idea is more animated than if he had compared them to thunderbolts. There is also more of brevity in a style that abounds in metaphors, than in a style which consists more of comparisons, and therefore it proves a better vehicle for the pas- sionate or sublime. The rule which good writers seem to have adopted respecting the distinct use of similies or metaphors is this : Where the resemblance is very strong and obvious, it may be expressed by a simple metaphor, and it will in general be H 5 154 METAPHORS. expressed more forcibly ; but where the re- semblance is not so obvious, it requires to be more expanded, and then a comparison or si- mile will neither appear formal nor pompous. There is another observation concerning the use of these figures, which is more common, though I do not think the reason of it is gene- rally understood. Comparisons, as I had oc- casion to observe before, are unnatural in ex- tremes of passion, though metaphors are not. The truth is, the mind, when strongly agitated, readily catches at slight associations, and me- taphors therefore are instantaneously formed ; but it is impossible that the imagination in that state should dwell upon them with the formality and exactness of a person making a compari- son. A metaphor is not always confined to a single word. It may extend to a whole sentence, though when much expanded, rhetoricians call it by another name, an ALLEGORY. It is not easy to say under which head we should rank the following bold and animated figure : " The swarm of monks that arose from the Nile, overspread and darkened the face of the Christian world." GIBBON'S HIST. c. 20, METAPHORS. Some metaphors, and particularly those which consist of a single word, have become so common that they are scarcely to be consi- dered as figurative. Thus when we speak of an arm of the sea, or of the /oof of a mountain, we scarcely seem to speak figurative language ; though these are in reality what may be called hard metaphors. The principal uses of metaphors are, 1st. As was intimated in speaking of the ad- vantages they possess over comparisons, they render a style more animated, by introducing a gew ide% in which for the moment the original seems to be lost or absorbed. In this way they serve even to enrich a language, and most lan- guages without them would be exceedingly li- mited, at least in the application of words, which would produce necessarily great stiffness and formality. 2dly . They greatly vary and diversify a style, and consequently relieve us from that tedious uniformity which would be the result of a style where every word was used in the literal sense. . Sdly. They serve to enlarge and elevate our subject ; for we can borrow a metaphor from something which possesses the quality we mean 156 METAPHORS. to ascribe to it, in a higher or more extensive degree. Thus a huge dog, or even a man, de- scribed under the metaphor of an elephant, will appear to the imagination of the hearer as greater perhaps than the object really is. A " torrent of words" magnifies in imagination the loudness and rapidity of the speaker : though this metaphor, like some of those which I have mentioned, is now so common, that its force as a figure is greatly weakened. Sometimes even a metaphor or comparison taken from an infe- rior subject will have this effect, by impressing the circumstance more strongly on the mind, by means of a familiar idea. Thus, when in the book of Job, leviathan is described as " making the deep to boil like a pot," our notion of the magnitude and strength of the animal is not lessened, since we still carry in our minds the idea of the ocean, and apply the simile of the boiling cauldron only to the agitation occa- sioned by his motions. 4thly. For these reasons they bestow dignity on composition. How much nobler is it to say, a the vault of heaven," than to use the com- mon word, " the sky." So we say, "the evening of life," for " old age." Thus the METAPHORS. 157 expression, " Death spares neither the rich nor the poor," is low, when compared with Ho- race: this latter incongruity might have been avoided. An allegorical couplet of Blackmore is for a similar reason well ridiculed by the authors of the art of scribbling in poetry 168 ALLEGORY. " A waving sea of heads around them spread, n And still pert streams the gazing deluge fed. 1 * A crowd of people is not improperly com* pared to a deluge, but when eyes are given to this metaphorical sea, the illusion is destroyed, and the effect is ridiculous. The absurdity even of this is however ex* ceeded by an allegorical sentence contained in a public instrument at a time when better writing might have been expected. " We can- not but acknowledge, to our very great sorrow and shame, that ourselves, though we hope through our weakness and frailly, not out of design, have very much contributed to those provocations which have caused God to depart from our Israel. But we see, when God's hour is come, and the time of his people's deliver- ance, even the set time at hand, he cometh, skipping over all the mountains of sins and un- worthiness that we daily cast in his way/' &c.-~ Monk and the Army's Address on re- assembling the Long Parliament* Even the ingenious and generally accurate Gibbon, is not free from these vices of compo- sition. In his last vol. p* 640, we read, " that ALLEGORY. 169 Benedict the Fourteenth consecrated a spot which persecution and fable had stained with the blood of so many Christian martyrs." Here it is evident that the two nouns, one in the figurative, and the other in the literal sense, are wholly inconsistent with each other, and destroy the metaphor or allegory, which ever it may be called ; though the author probably meant this mode of expression for a beauty. After these instances of faulty and imperfect allegories, it is but right that I should give you an example of a good one. It is from Prior's Henry and Emma ; and it comes naturally from the lips of an enamoured and virtuous female " Did I but purpose to embark with thee " On the smooth surface of a summer's sea, " While gentle zephyrs play with prosperous gales, " And fortune's favour fills the swelling sails : " But would forsake the ship, and make the shore, " When the winds whistle, and the tempests roar? " No, Henry no ! one sacred oath has tied '- Our lives, one destiny our fate shall guide, " Nor wild nor deep our common way divide." The following from Shakspeare is perhaps faulty in confounding in some measure the li- VOL. i. i 170 . ALLEGORY. teral with the figurative meaning, as in the fifth line. It is however very beautiful : the third line is finely descriptive " This is the state of man : To day he puts forth " The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, " And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : " The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; " And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely " His greatness is a ripening nips his rooj, " And then he falls, &c. HENRY vm. As I have shewn you also that Mr. Gibbon could commit an error in the construction of a figure, it is but fair to shew you also what he was capable of effecting when on his guard. The example I quote is from the 21st chap, of his history, a work to which I must often refer when I wish to exhibit the force of a fine ima- gination exerted in producing almost every beauty of style. The historian, in speaking of the speculative dissentions which existed in the Christian church at the period he is describing, adds, " It will not be expected, it would not perhaps be endured, that I should swell this theological digression, by a minute examina- tion of the eighteen creeds, the authors of which. ALLEGORY. 171 for the most part, disclaimed the odious name of their parent Arius. It is amusing enough to delineate the form, and to trace the vegetation of a singular plant ; but the tedious detail of leaves without flowers, and of branches with- out fruit, would soon exhaust the patience, and disappoint the curiosity of the laborious student." You will easily see that almost all the rules respecting metaphors are applicable to this kind of allegory. Dr. Blair, I must add> makes a very judicious distinction between these alle- gorical expressions and common metaphors. Besides the difference in point of length, " a metaphor," he observes, " always explains itself by the words that are connected with it, as when I say Achilles was a lion ; an able minis- ter is the pillar of the state ; my lion and my pillar are sufficiently interpreted by the men- tion of Achilles and the minister, which I join to them ; but an allegory is, or may be, allowed to stand more unconnected with the literal mean- ing, the interpretation not so directly pointed out, but left to our own reflexion." Though confounded under the same name, Hie second species of allegory to which I al- i V 172 ALLUSION. luded differs greatly from that of which we have been treating, that, I mean, which represents a subject under the colour of a fictitious narra- tive. The few successful attempts of this kind extant, sufficiently evince that it is a species of composition extremely difficult, and indeed it is only tolerable in the hands of a writer of the first order. Even Spencer, though abounding in all the beauties of poetry, is scarcely read, and never interests; yet I must make an ex- ception in favour of the charming vision of Mirza, and some others in the Spectator. I may also recommend most of those in the Adven- turer, from the fascinating pen of Dr. Hawks- worth You will perhaps think me hypercritical in making a distinction between the metaphor, and what I term an allusion. The latter is however a slight reference to some well-known fact or matter of history ; and I think can pro- perly class neither under the head of metaphor nor allegory. An instance which will at once explain my meaning, presents itself to my me- mory from a well-known song of Prior " Obtain' d the chariot for a day, ; >" And set the world on fire." CATACHRESIS. 173 A more beautiful instance is furnished by Mr. Gibbon : " They (the Jews) cultivated with ardour the theological system of the Athenian sage. But their national pride would have been mor- tified by a fair confession of their former po- verty, and they boldly marked, as the sacred inheritance of their ancestors, the gold and jewels which they had so lately stolen from their Egyptian masters." GIBBON'S DECLINE AND FALL, c. 24. The following will probably be ranked as a comparison : "If it be the obscure, the minute, the cere- monial part of religion for which we are con- tending, though the triumph be empty, the dis- pute is dangerous. Like the men of Ai we pursue perhaps some little party that flies be- fore us, we are eager that not a straggler may escape ; but when we look behind, our city is in flames." DR. OGDEN'S SERMONS. The figure called catachresis, which I hope I need not tell you means an abuse of words, is commonly no more than a violent or over- strained metaphor, as when -*ve say of a person 174 ANTITHESIS. for whom we have little respect, " that he in- flicted an obligation upon us." The vivid ima- gination of Mr. Burke was very fond of this figure : thus when he called the hair-brained revolutionists of France " architecls of ruin,'* it was certainly a catachresis; but it was a very fine one. All these figures you will easily perceive arc derived from the relation of resemblance ; and as metaphysicians have connected under one head the relations of resemblance and contra- riety, I think I may be allowed to conclude this letter with the notice of an important figure derived from this latter quality, I mean the antithesis. The antithesis in general, even the serious kind, may be considered as a species of witti- cism, and is therefore a much more favourite figure with the moderns than with the antients. For however inferior we may be to the classical writers in other instances, in wit and humour the moderns undoubtedly excel them. The only antient writer that I know who is very fond of the antithesis, is Seneca the rhetorician, in whose compositions this figure is continually 'ANTITHESIS. 175 and disgustingly introduced. Great as is my veneration for Dr. Johnson, I cannot help sus- pecting that he early studied in the school of Seneca, and that he there imbibed that predi- lection for the antithesis so conspicuous in his otherwise incomparable writings. The French were among the first of the mo- derns who cultivated the antithesis. The let- ters of Voiture, which are very studied, and not a little affected, are full of them. It is, however, the language of compliment, and what is called " a well turned compliment," is often no more than a pointed antithesis. Thus the writer, whom I just mentioned, tells his friend Balzac, " that self-knowledge, which was a cause of humility to other men, must with him have a quite contrary effect." Antitheses seern to have been introduced, at least the abuse of them, into the English lan- guage in the time of Charles II. With other species of false wit they pervaded all the elo- quence of the day. Even the pulpit was not free from them, and we are often disgusted with the harsh antithesis of South; take for example one sentence " These were notions not descending from 176 ANTITHESIS. us, but born \vith us ; not our offspring, but our brethren ; and (as I may so say) such as were taught without the help of a teacher." There are hardly any rules to be observed respecting the introduction and the use of anti- theses ; your own taste and discretion must be your only guides. I may however in the first place remark, that as they always appear the effect of study, they are never natural in impas- sioned language. On the stage, therefore, they are seldom introduced with propriety, as they are neither the suitable expression of passion, nor can be supposed to occur naturally in con- versation. As they do not accord with the pas- sionate, and are efforts too minute for the su- blime, it forms an objection against that ini- mitable poem, the Night Thoughts, that it abounds too much with this figure. The su- blimity of the following lines is destroyed by the epigrammatic turn " Even silent night proclaims my soul immortal, " Even silent night proclaims eternal day : " For human weal Heaven husbands all events, " And with an air divine her Colmar|j ply'd: j " Then oh ! she cries, what slaves I round me see ; " Here a bright red-coat, there a smart toupee." Agreeably to this figure, the author's name is employed to designate his works ; as when I say " I have read Homer, Virgil, or Milton," for the works of Homer, &c. ; and this is so common, that it is no harsh expression to say J{ 1 have read such a writer." " Trojani belli scriptorem, maxime Lolli, *' Dum tu declamas Romae, Praenesle relegi." HOR..EP. 2, " While you my Lollius on some chosen theme, " With youthful eloquence at Home declaim, "I read the Grecian poet o'er again." FRANCIS. Again the effect or instrument is employed for the cause as " the tongue (that is the elo- queiwe of Cicero) defended the cause of virtue and the republic;" " Pallida mors" (in Ho- * Stays. f Tweezer case. + Watch. || Fan. A head-dress. All names taken, I believe, from emi- nent workmen or dealers in those articles. SYNECDOCHE. 181 race) for death that makes pale. The adjunct is used for the substantive, as when we speak of the fasces for the magistrate ; and Virgil says, " bibit Germania Tigrim," mentioning the country for the inhabitants. In short, it is unnecessary to multiply instances, as metony- mies occur in every page of every book, and in almost every sentence of conversation. I need not remind you that the synecdoche (orjigure of comprehension,) according to old Farnaby, " takes the whole for the part, or the part for the whole," as the genus for the species, or the species for the genus ; and is of conse- quence, evidently dependant on the same rela- tion : thus a man is said to get his bread by his labour, when bread is taken to signify the whole of subsistence. The circumstance which forms the principal difficulty of translation is, that metaphors, me- tonymies, and synecdoches, are often intrans- iatable ; and the corresponding words are, in the new language, often trite or obscure. The periphrasis is a metonymy in which more words than usual are employed, as when we speak of " the Lover of Daphne," to de- signate Apollo. Mr. Gibbon raises his style \ 182 PERIPHRASIS. very beautifully by the use of this figure. It is also common with the Orientals, as " the son of Nouraddin," instead of the proper name of the person. One of the most animated figures, \\hen pro- perly introduced, and managed with delicacy and judgment, is the prosopopoeia or personifi- cation. It has some alliance with the meta- phor, but still more with the metonymy ; and indeed seems in most cases to the latter what the allegory is to the metaphor. Thus, when we say " Youth and beauty are laid in the dust," it is not easy/ to determine whether it is a metonymy or a prosopopoeia. This figure is the soul of poetry, and of lyric poetry in par- ticular. It " Gives to airy nothing " A local habitation and a name." In a production of an excellent poetess of our own times, there is a very fine specimen of this figure , as well as of most of the beauties of poetry " Loud howls the storm, the vex'd Atlantic roars, " Thy genius, Britain, wanders on its shores ! " Hears cries of horror wafted from afar, " The groans of anguish 'mid the shrieks of war! PERSONIFICATION. 183 " Hears the deep curses of the great and brave, " Sigh in the wind, and murmur in the wave ! " O'er his damp brow the sable crape he binds, " And throws his victor garland to the winds." Miss SEWARD'S MONODY ON MAJ. ANDRE. In all the lyric poems of Collins, you will find very fine examples of the prosopopoeia. None perhaps more pleasing than the opening of his Ode to Mercy " O thou, who sifst a smiling bride " By valour's arm'd and awful side, " Gentlest of sky-born forms, and best adored " Who oft with songs, divine to hear, ' Win'st from his fatal grasp the spear, " And hid'st in wreaths of flow'rs his bloodless sword." *' Thou, who, amidst the deathful field, " By godlike chiefs alone beheld, " Oft with thy bosom bare art found, " Pleading for him, the youth who sinks to ground." Here are two very fine pictures, the embodied quality or character in two most interesting si- tuations. There is another striking instance in a con- temporary poet, which is also accompanied with a fine allusion. You will recollect the lines are addressed to Mr. Gibbon 184 PERSONIFICATION. " Humility herself, divinely mild, *' Sublime religion's meek and modest child, " Like the dumb son of Croesus, in the strife, - " When force assail'd his father's sacred life, *' Breaks silence, and with filial duty warm, " Bids thee revere her parent's hallowed form !" HAYLEY'S ESSAY ON HISTORY. But though personification is particularly adapted to poetry, yet this figure serves fre- quently to adorn the works of the best prose writers. I have seldom found a bolder instance than one in Tacitus, An. 16. 21 " Trucidatis tot insignibus viris, ad postre- mura Nero virtutem ipsam exscindere concupi- vit, interfecto Thrasea," &c. " After the slaughter of so many distin- guished men, Nero meditated at length the extirpation of virtue herself, by the murder of Thrasea." Dr. Ogden, who is so fertile in beauties that lam obliged to have continual recourse to him, will also furnish us with another example " Truth (says he) is indeed of an awful pre- sence, and must never be affronted with the rudeness of direct opposition ; yet will she consent for a moment to pass unregarded, while PERSONIFICATION. 185 your respects are offered to her sister cha- rity." The use of the abstract for the concrete, as treachery, for treacherous men ; modesty, for modest men, &c. is a kind of personification, and adds greatly to the animation of a dis- course, as in this instance from Junius's Letters " As for Mr. W n, there is something in him which even treachery cannot trust." Much of the spirit of Dr. Johnson's compo- sitions depends upon this artful use of lan- guage; and he is, I think, improperly ceil* sured for it, by a gentleman, whose lively talents and genuine humour have often en- gaged and interested the first assembly in this kingdom, and who favoured the public with an excellent criticism in verse on that great man's character and writings. The 1st rule to be observed with respect to the prosopopoeia is, that whenever it is intro- duced,-^ the picture it presents should be com- plete. For this reason the following example is perfectly ridiculous " Invidious grave, how dost thou rend in sunder tl Whom love has knit, and sympathy made one." BLAIR'S GRAVE. 186' PERSONIFICATION. The idea of a grave rending in sunder, yon see makes a very indifferent picture. I should not however have quoted this poem, had it not been made a subject of panegyric by a modem critic, whose genius is at least equal to his ec- centricity. 2dly. Mean and vulgar objects should never be personified : for as the prosopopreia is a bold figure, it should only be introduced to confer dignity on a subject. It follows of course that nothing vulgar or contemptible should be al- lowed to disgrace the figure. For this reason the following image from the poem I have just quoted, is not only unpoetical, but disgust- ing . " O great man-eater f " Whose every day is carnival, not sated yet ! " Like one whole days defrauded of his meals, " On whom lank hunger lays his skinny hand." Here are two personifications, and 'he ima- gery, as well as the language in both, is"a& mean and colloquial as possible. The same want of dignity, and the same impropriety, pervade all the imagery of this writer. For in- stance PERSONIFICATION. 187 " Now tame and humble, like a child that's whipt, " S/mke hands with dust." Here is another most extraordinary picture, t( a man skaking hands with dust." Such writers are of use, because they teach us bette than any precept can, what to avoid. Sdly. I do not subscribe to Dr. Blair's rule, u that this figure should never be attempted but when prompted by strong passion ;" for in the happiest instances I have already -given, there is no passion at all. Indeed it seems to me more a figure of fancy than of passion, and it is most happily introduced in those composi- tions where the fancy sports most uncontrouied > as in lyric productions. In very serious com- positions, however, it is sometimes well in-* troduced accompanied with passion ; but then the effect will be destroyed if it appears arti- ficial ; for all art is inconsistent with strong emotion. The apostrophe is a more animated prosopo* pceia, where the object personified is addressed in the second person. A real personage, how- ever, may be addressed in an apostrophe, but he must be supposed either dead or' absent; which almost reduces it to a mere personifica- 188 APOSTROPHE. tion. It is a figure more fit for poetry than prose; and nothing can excuse it in the latter but the very effervescence of passion. On this account, though it may be tolerated in oratory, it cannot be admitted in narrative or didactic compositions. In truth, the French preachers, who are very partial to this figure, render their discourses sometimes exceedingly frigid, by its too frequent and artificial introduction. The apostrophe never was more properly and naturally introduced than in Lear's address to the elements, when discarded and turned out by Regan. There is a peculiar beauty in this part " Spit fife, spout rain ! " Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters. " I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness, . " I never gave you kingdom, called you children, . " YOH owe me no subscription," &c. That of Eve in the llth book of Paradise Lost, v- 269, is also beautiful and proper " O unexpected stroke, worse than of death ! " Must I thus leave thee, Paradise, thus leave " Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, " Fit haunt of Gods ? Where I had hope to spend, HYPERBOLE. 189 " Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day " That must be mortal to us both. O flowers " That never will in other climate grow, " My early visitation and my last " At even, which I bred up with tender hand, " From the first opening bud, and gave you names ; " " Who now skall rear ye to the sun, or rank " Your tribes, and water from th' ambrosial fount ?" &c. I have already laid down one rule concern- ing the use of this figure, which is, that it is only adapted to impassioned expression, other- wise its introduction is frigid, if not ridiculous. I may add, as a second rule, that it should al- ways be made with gravity and dignity. The following instance is a breach of both these rules '" But tell us, why this waste, " Why this ado in earthing up a carcase " That's fall'n into disgrace, and to the sense " Smells horrible? Ye Undertakers! tell us." BLAIR'S GRAVE. The hyperbole is nothing more than an excess of figurative language ; the effect, when it is natural, of passion. All the passions are inclined to magnify their objects. Injuries seem greater than they really are to those who have received 190 HYPERBOLE* them ; and dangers, to those who are in fear. The lover naturally makes a divinity of his mis- tress ; valour and contempt are equally inclined to degrade and diminish. This figure, there- fore, in particular, requires passion to give it force or propriety ; and if this is not the case, it renders a style very bombastic and frigid. Lucan is too fond of this figure. See the first six lines of Howe's Lucan, where " The sun - " sicken'd to behold Emathia's plain, " And would have sought the backward east again.'* And in book vi. v. 329 : " The missive arms fix'd all around he wears> " And even his safety in his wounds he bears, " Fenc'd with a fatal wood, a deadly grove of spears." Nothing indeed can be more bombastic than the whole description of this warrior's death. The poet calls upon the Pompeians to lay siege to him as they would to a town ; to bring bat- tering engines, flames, racks, &c. to subdue him. He is first compared to an elephant^ and again to a hunted boar ; at length- " When none were left him to repel, " Fainting for want of foes the victor fell.'* HVPERBOLE. 191 above instances may serve to shew how easily the hyperbolical style may slide into the ridiculous. The last of them is only surpassed by one which is quoted by the authors of the Bathos " He roar'd so loud, and look'd so wondrous grim, *' His very shadow durst not follow him." Or another from the same assemblage of hu* mour. The poet is speaking of a frighted stag, who " Hears his own feet, and thinks they sound like more, " And fears the hind feet will o'ertake the fore." One more I cannot help transcribing. It is the description of that elegant entertainment a, bull-baiting, by Sir Richard Blackmore " Up to the stars the sprawling mastiffs fly, " And add new monsters to the frighted sky." Nothing in short can be more fertile in the ridiculous than the awkward attempts of bad writers at the hyperbole. On this account, I can give you no better rule with respect to the use of it, than to employ it as little as possible. Irony has been classed as a figure of rhetoric by Farnaby, and Other writers of equal taste 192 IRONY. and brilliancy ; but with deference to high authorities, I would rather consider it as a style of writing than as a figure of speech. Dr. Priestley observes, that " all irony is humour, but all humour is not irony." In other words, irony is a species of humour, and if you will attend to the definition of humour, which I at- tempted in Letter VI. viz. that it depends upon the same principle of contrast as wit ; but that in humour, the mind of the reader or auditor is left to make the comparison for itself, and form the contrast ; you will find that it strictly ap- plies to irony. This figure (if a figure we must call it) generally consists in giving undeserved praise, implying censure on the object ; or con- veying censure under the appearance of praise; but the former is the most common. I remem- ber however a very pretty stroke of irony of the latter kind. When the King of Prussia, Frederic II. published his poem on the art of war, he took no notice of Marlborough. On this circumstance, the Monthly Reviewers re- marked, " that they presumed his Majesty had omitted the name of Marlborough, in the cata- logue of distinguised commanders, because he might deem him deficient in one branch of his IRONY. 19S profession, having never on any occasion evin- ced his skill in conducting a retreat.* The greatest master in irony is Swift ; and his " Tale of a Tub" is the most complete spe- cimen extant of ironical composition. To se- lect examples would be to transcribe almost half the book. Take therefore the first that oc- curs in the " Dedication to Prince Posterity." " To affirm that our age is altogether un- learned, and devoid of writers of any kind, seems to be an assertion so bold and false, that I have been sometime thinking, the contrary may almost be proved by uncontroulable de- monstration. It is true indeed, that although their numbers be vast, and their productions numerous in proportion, yet are they hurried so hastily off the scene, that they escape our memory, and elude our sight." " What is then become of those immense bales of paper, which must needs have been employed in such numbers of books ; can these also be wholly annihilated, and so of a sudden as I pretend ? What shall I say in return to so invidious an objection ; it ill befits the distance between your highness and me, to send you for ocular demonstration to a jakes or am oven ; VOL. I. K 194 IRONY. to the windows of a bawdy-house, or to a sor- did lanthern. Books, like men their authors, have no more than one way of coming into the world, but there are ten thousand to go out of it, and return no more." The force and delicacy of this irony may be easily understood without a comment. The sarcastic author, passes a most severe cen- sure on his contemporaries, under the colour of a very moderate and well-conducted de- fence. Let it be observed that more exaggerated praise, even though it evidently appears extra- vagant, and meant for ridicule, is not irony. To constitute that, there must be a sarcastic archness, which, if not actual wit, must very nearly approach it, and must at least be hu- mour. I shall conclude with the finest speci- men of this figure extant in any language " HERE continueth to rot The Body of FRANCIS CHARTRES, Who with an INFLEXIBLE CONSTANCY, And INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY of Life, PERSISTED, In spite of AGE and INFIRMITIES, PARALEIPSIS. 195 In the Practice of EVERY HUMAN VICE, Excepting PRODIGALITY and HYPOCRISY: His insatiable AVARICE exempted him from the first, His matchless IMPUDENCE from the second. Nor was he more singular In the undeviating Pravity of his Manners, Than successful In Accumulating WEALTH : For, without TRADE or PROFESSION, Without TRUST of PUBLIC MONEY, And without BRIBE-WORTHY Service, He acquired, or more properly created, A MINISTERIAL ESTATE. He was the only Person of his Time Who could CHEAT without the Mask of HONESTY, Retain his Primaeval MEANNESS When possess'd of TEN THOUSAND a year ; And having daily deserved the GIBBET for what he did, Was at last condemn'd to it for what he could not do. Oh Indignant Reader ! Think not his Life useless to Mankind ; PROVIDENCE conniv'd at his execrable Designs, To give to After-ages A conspicuous PROOF and EXAMPLE, Of how small Estimation is EXORBITANT WEALTH In the Sight of GOD, By his bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY of ALL MORTALS.'' A figure which the Greeks call paraleipsis. 196 INTERROGATION, borders upon irony, and is sometimes united with it. From the name you will perceive that it implies an affectation of omission, as when an orator exclaims, u I refrain from touching on the rapacity, the venality, the exceeding cor- ruption of the person I accuse ; I confine my- self to the point," &c. Cicero makes a very free use of this figure ; and the late Mr. Burke, who made that great master his model, was particularly fond of it. Dr. Blair has enumerated two or three other forms of expression as figures of rhetoric ; and that I may not leave this sketch imperfect, I shall conclude this letter with a short notice of them. The first of these is interrogation, of which (he observes) we have many fine instances in the poetical and prophetical parts of Scrip- ture" God is not a man that he should lie, nor the son of man that he should repent. Hath he said, and shall he not do it ?" The effect of this mode of expression will be very evident, if the sense is preserved, and the words thrown out of this interrogative form. u What he hath said he will do, and what he hath spoken he will make good." Also in St. Mat- thew, ch. xi. v. 7 and 9. " And as they de- EXCLAMATION. 197 parted, he began to say unto the multitude concerning John. What went ye out into the wilderness to see ? A reed shaken with the wind ? but what went ye out for to see ; a man clothed in soft raiment ? Behold they that wear soft raiment are in kings' houses : but what went ye out for to see ? A prophet, yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophet." Exclamation is a stronger figure than the former. The best rule that can be given with regard to it, is, that you should attend to the manner in which the passion you describe would naturally vent itself. The figure must be seldom used, as it will appear very ridicu- lous, unless where the passions of the hearers are much inflamed. The same author observes, that some writers fill their books with points of admiration ! as ' if the points were sufficient to produce that passion by a magical power, when their senti- ments are perfectly frigid. Nearly allied to this is another trick, which has been much em- ployed by modern authors, i. e. filling their writings with black lines, as if every sentence was so important as to deserve applause. Dr. Blair calk this a typographical figure, and it 198 VISION. is well adapted to some contemptible writers, and that herd of novelists, who have nothing either in their matter or style to attract at- tention. There was another custom used not long ago, which modern writers have justly laid aside ; they wrote every word which they thought emphatic in Italic characters. Though this may be very proper with respect to some very energetic words, yet the too frequent use of them only dazzles the sight, without inform- ing the understanding. Dr. Blair remarks also another figure, which he calls vision, by which we describe a thing that is past or absent as if passing immediately before our eyes : by it we place things in a very lively manner before our readers, an example of which may be found in Cicero's fourth ora- tion against Catiline. " Cum vero mihi pro- posui regnantem Lentulum," &c. It is not easy to give any rules concerning the manage- ment of this figure ; it requires, indeed, great caution, and its use ought to be almost exclu- sively restricted to very passionate orations. Repetition is another animated figure remark- ed by the same writer ; by this we repeat the most material words of a sentence, in order to REPETITION. 199 fljake the impression the stronger. There is an example of this in Virgil, when Orpheus la- ments his lost wife Eurydice " Te, dulcis conjux te, eolo in littore secunv " Te, veniente die, te decedente canebat." To the same purpose Mr Pope " By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, " By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, " By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, " By strangers honour'd and by strangers mourn'd." The finest instance of this is, however, in St. Paul's 2d Epistle to the Corinthians, ch. xi. v. 22. " Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites ? So am I. Are they the seed of Abraham ? So am I. Are they the ministers of Christ ? (I speak as a fool) I am more ; in labours more abundant, in stripes above mea- sure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft." I have already treated of the climax in a for- mer letter ; all that is necessary to remark here is, that it is commonly classed as a figure of rhetoric. 200 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS \ i LETTER XIV. 'General observations on Composition. MY DEAR JOHN, I HAVE endeavoured to give you as correct a notion as I can of all the figures of rhetoric which deserve the name. To enter into the minuteness of Farnaby would be trifling, and only perplex. There was scarcely a form or idiom of language for which the Greeks did not invent a name ; and it is to be lamented that much of their science consisted only in giving names. Even in what I have done, I fear you will apply to me the remark of Butler, formerly quoted. Yet let it be remembered, that it is at least an accomplishment to know how literary men, both ancient and modern, have specified and defined the various modes of expression. I shall have frequently to call your attention to something of more importance than style, the matter and form of the different species of com- ON COMPOSITION. 201 position. Yet even here what has been ad- vanced on the subject of style will not be found useless. Independent of those qualities which every good style ought to possess perspicuity, purity, and harmony you will have to apply much of what I have advanced to the different kinds of composition of which we are now to treat. It is evident that some will be improved by an ornamental or florid style ; that in others, figurative language must be sparingly employ- ed, while on some subjects it would be an ab- solute vice. All kinds of composition may be classed un- der two general divisions : prose, and poetry; and it will be most natural and easy to treat in the first instance of the former. Prose compositions may again be arranged in the following classes : 1st. Didactic and argu- mentative; 2d. Oratorical; 3d. Narrative and descriptive. The first will comprehend every thing relating to moral, political, or natural philosophy ; all treatises on the arts or sciences ; all discussions or controversies, which do not come under the second division of the oratorical or declamatory. The second division will in- 202 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS elude not only the three great branches of ora- tory the senate, the bar, and the pulpit ; but also much of controversy, political pamphlets, and every thing that assumes a declamatory form. The letters of Jimius, though under the epistolary title, may be classed as political de- clamations. The last division will extend not only to real but fictitious history, memoirs, books of travels, and even many compositions which rank as essays, but which are in reality either narratives or descriptions. The three kinds will be found sometimes blended in one pro- duction, as in Thucydides and Livy will be found almost as much of oratory as of mere narrative ; though this is a style of composi- tion which I would not recommend. It is obvious, that in didactic or argumenta- tive compositions, works of reasoning; a florid or figurative style is very improperly intro- duced : yet in what are called moral essays, such as the Spectators, Ramblers, and Adven- turers, a style moderately florid is far from mis- placed . The truth is, these productions partake more or less of the nature either of poetry or ON COMPOSITION. oratory. They are in a great measure works of imagination, and therefore the ornaments of fancy are not improperly bestowed upon them. There are few productions of the narrative kind which will not admit of ornament. The antient historians are, however, rather more chaste in this respect, except where they pro- fessedly introduce an oration. Books of tra- vels are mostly descriptive ; and description admits of even more ornament than narrative. It indeed approaches to poetry, and almost ad- mits of equal licence. But of all the different kinds of prose com- position, oratory admits of the greatest variety of ornament. It allows occasionally of almost all the figures which are appropriated to poetry^ and of some almost peculiar to itself. It is, therefore, to this branch of composition that the art of rhetoric particularly applies ; and the antient rhetoricians were mere teachers of ora- tory. In treating critically of the'difterent kinds of composition, both prose and verse, I shall have to enforce more particularly these observations. In the mean time, as this letter is of a miscel- laneous character, I shall conclude it ^ith a 204 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS few practical rules, which you will find useful in the acquisition of a good style ; some from my own practice and observation, and some from other authors. 1st. As we have been treating so* lately of figurative language, ray first observation will apply to it. Never be anxious to embellish your compositions in this way. Never study to find out comparisons or metaphors to adorn your discourse. Figurative language, when it is good, comes spontaneously from a lively imagination, or from a mind richly stored by the perusal of the best authors. 2d. Avoid common-place metaphors. No- thing can be more disgusting than an accumu- lation of trite and common allusions. The plainest style is preferable ; and figures to be pleasing should always have something inge- nious and uncommon to recommend them. Such a style as I have now been deprecating, is always frigid, and commonly characterized as fustian or bombast. 3d . To write well you should study to ac- quire a clear idea of the subject. Some may suppose that this has no connection with style ; but the case is otherwise, for unless you under- ON COMPOSITION. 205 stand what you write upon, you can never make others understand you. When you are to write, you are to reflect upon all the parts of the subject ; and when you have acquired a clear view of it, the words will come of course, though probably they will admit of much amendment. Do not however stop the ardour of composition for the sake of a single word or phrase, but leave it a blank when a proper one does not occur, or rather take the word that presents itself, and mark it to be af- terwards corrected. 4th. You should often compose. No rules are sufficient to form a complete and correct writer without exercise and habit. I do not mean that you should compose much ; on the contrary, by writing too fast at first you may contract bad habits, which will require much trouble before they can be removed. Endea- vour therefore to write well, rather than fast. When you have done, lay by the composition till you have forgotten your attachment to any particular phrase in it, and afterwards survey it with a critical eye ; you will then be more able to prune redundances, and to smooth the periods. 206 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS 5th. I again repeat, peruse the best authors with a particular attention to their style. By this means you will lay in a store of words, and insensibly adopt their modes of expression. Take care to mark every thing peculiar in their manner, so that you may know how afterwards either to adopt or to avoid it. 6th. There is no practice better than to translate passages from good classical authors, or to give the thoughts of a good writer in your own language, and compare it afterwards care- fully with the original. Take, for instance, a passage from Addison or Blair ; read it three or four times, and when you have made yourself master of all the sentiments, lay aside the book, and clothe them in your own language ; then compare your own performance, after you have rendered it as correct as possible, with the original : by this means you will be able to dis- cover your own faults. 7th. Avoid all servile imitation of others; for by imitation you will be prevented from at- tempting anything of your own, and your bar- renness will at length be discovered. Never transcribe passages from other writers as your own : this effectually bars all efforts of genius, ON COMPOSITION. 207 and exposes you to the ridicule of men of learning. 8th. Always endeavour to adapt the style to the subject; for nothing can be more ridicu- lous than to clothe grave subjects in a vain and gaudy dress ; or embellish dry reasoning, which must convince only by strength of argument. In oratorical compositions you must also adapt your discourse to the generality of your au- dience : nothing can be more absurd than to use extravagant phrases, or unknown words, before an unlearned multitude ; the ignorant may admire, but the learned will smile. 9th . Give at all times more attention to your thoughts than to your words. We may learn almost mechanically a few fine phrases ; but in a man of true genius alone the sentiments are grand and noble. I do not mean, however, to discourage you from the cultivation of a good style. The re- mark of Quinctilian, " that a clear conception will generally be attended with correct expres- sion" is so far true, that we know the knowledge of words ahvays accompanies the knowledge of things ; and as almost all our knowledge is acquired by means of words, we cannot have GENERAL OBSERVATIONS, &C. the one without the other. Otherwise the at- tainment of arts and sciences appears to me a perfectly distinct branch of study, and I can conceive a man master of even a practical art, such as chemistry or mechanics, and to want names for his ideas. However, thus far is certain, that the elegant part of speaking or writing is at least a distinct study, and there- fore not tc be neglected ; though it will be found of little value without a sound know- ledge of things. DIDACTIC COMPOSITION 209 LETTER XV. Didactic Composition Analysis and Synthesis. ^ MY DEAR JOHN, IN my last letter I promised to conduct you from words to things ; from style to the matter and arrangement of composition. In pursuing the order also which I before pointed out, we are to consider didactic composition. I do not know a greater difficulty than that which presents itself to a young writer with re- spect to the method or arrangement which he is to pursue in an essay or discourse on any gi- ven subject. Ideas crowd upon his mind; he sees the subject in various points of view ; but he is uncertain what observation ought first to be introduced to the notice of his reader, or in what light his subject will appear the clearest, and to the most advantage. Here the rules of art may occasionally deliver him from some embarrassment ; and at least a general process 210 ANALYSIS. may be laid down as the means of investigating truth, or communicating knowledge. Logicians have established, and I think not improperly, two methods in which didactic or argumentative disquisitions are to be conduct- ed. These methods are analysis and synthesis. The analytical method is when we proceed from particulars to the establishment of some general truth. Thus Derham, in his physico theology, ascends from the investigation of the several parts of nature, to the proof that they must be the work of an all powerful and intel- ligent being. Dr. Clarke, on the contrary, in his admirable w r ork on the being and attributes of God, commences with a simple proposition, that " something must have existed from eter- nity ; he proceeds to shew what must have been the nature and attributes of such a being, and by the force of this one fundamental axiom, establishes all the principles which are the basis of natural, I might add of revealed religion. A similar method is adopted in Warburton's Divine Legation, a work however which I never admired. The foundation of this work is laid in a kind of syllogism, though I confess I cannot see that the consequence flow.s naturally from ANALYSIS. the major and the minor. It is, 1st. That the doctrine of a future state is necessary to the well-being of civil society, and therefore was taught by the wisest legislators of antiquity. 2d. That this doctrine makes no part of the Mosaic dispensation. 3dly. That therefore the law of Moses is of divine original. The learned author has, in my opinion, failed in the proof of all his propositions ; but it is enough to remark at present, that he branches this syllogism out into five volumes, adducing an infinite number of authorities and facts un- der each of the separate heads. The analytical method is the only mode in which truth is to be investigated ; for this rea- son it is the method adopted in algebraic in- vestigations, and in those of experimental phi- losophy, where the author, from comparing the number of particular observations, and tracing the analogy between them, arrives at a general conclusion.* * In this manner truths of the greatest importance are gradually laid open to persons whose curiosity is deeply interested in the process. Nor is the full design of the philosopher perceived by his antagonist, until the conclu- sion, which he aims to establish, strikes at last with irre- 212 SYNTHESIS. Where a science is to be taught, on the con- trary, the synthetic seems the most commodious method, and it is therefore that which is adopt- ed by geometricians. With these, therefore, a theorem or proposition is laid down, and is then proved or demonstrated. Sermons, except those which follow the order of the text, and a majority of what are called moral essays, are in the synthetical form ; though it is not often that we find either 6f these modes separately pursued. In works where it is the object of the writers to take their readers by surprise, and to estab- lish a false conclusion, they find the analytical method to answer their purpose the best ; for the chain of reasoning ascending from particu- lars to generals is often complicated, and the connexion of it with the conclusion is not easily discovered. Dr. Priestley observes, that the most valuable part of Mr. Hume's " Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals," is nearly the same as that part of Mr. Hutchinson's mo- ral philosophy, which corresponds to it, and sistible evidence upon the mind. OGILVIE ON COMPO- SITION. SYNTHESIS. 213 may most properly be termed analytical. In order to determine the foundation of virtue, he considers particularly every thiiig that is ac- knowledged to gain the esteem of mankind, examining upon what common property their encomiums turn, and in what manner their ap- probation is bestowed ; and having found that nothing is the object of esteem but what is use- ful to society, and that the several virtues are classed in the first and second rank of import- ance, according as they are more or less essen- tial to the well-being of society, he concludes that public utility is the foundation of all moral virtue. In Dr. Hartley's observations on man, on the contrary, the argument is strictly synthetical, and even geometrical. The author begins with definitions and axioms, such as are employed by geometricians ; he lays down formal pro- positions, and advances such proof as the na- ture of the cas>e will admit. He deduces formal corollaries from almost every proposition ; in the scholia he explains the nature of his proofs, and shews in what manner evidence is reflected from one part to another. I do not know any study more improving to 2J4 DIDACTIC COMPOSITION. young persons than to mark and consider the manner in which a great author conducts a dis- quisition ; for there is frequently not less force and power in the arrangement than in the mat- ter and arguments themselves. The Republic of Plato is a very celebrated work ; and a short abstract, or rather outline, of it, may possibly entertain you. The work is in dialogue ; but as there is only one principal speaker, Socrates, it may be regarded as a dis- quisition. The professed intention of the au- thor is to describe and define the nature of jus- tice ; this he does by a fanciful analogy, in the tracing of which he pursues the analytical me- thod. He founds an imaginary city, and shews the advantage of each person practising some art which may be useful to the community, and practising that alone. He then divides his city into three classes : 1st. Those Mho pursue the arts of husbandry, mechanics, &c. 2d. The military, or a few chosen for the defence of the rest. 3d. The magistrates and counsel- lors, who are to administer the laws and regu- late the police. This therefore is the order of the city ; but if one class (says he) should in- fringe on the proper business of the other, if DIDACTIC COMPOSITION. 215 the artizans or soldiers, being unskilled in the arts of governing, should pretend to rule, con- fusion and the dissolution of the state is the ne- cessary consequence ; and this constitutes the political nature of injustice. In like manner man is endued with certain faculties, appetites and passions, the end of which is the general good of the whole ; and these may be divided into three classes the appetitive, the irascible, and the reasonable; answering to the three classes constituted in the city. The rational is the governing and con- sultive power, and the irascible is the defensive, and is properly the guard and confederate to it. If, then, at any time the appetitive should assume the superiority, or the irascible part would subject every thing to his sway, the har- mony is broken, and the man, of consequence. Will act Unjustly, &C. Apt* /*t p us ioix y v^nt-re rn en nn xai xaAXo* xai EV(I ^ux* 1 *' *** (l * ^E vo