“Etsi homini nihil est magis optandum quam prospera, æquabilis, perpetuaque fortuna, secundo, vitæ sine ulla offensione cursu; tamen, si mihi tranquilla et placata omnia fuissent, incredibili quâdam et pene divinà, quâ nunc vestro beneficio fruor, lætitiæ voluptate caruissem."* Nothing was ever more perfect in its kind: it paints, if we may so speak, to the ear. But who would not have laughed, if Cicero had employed such periods, or such a cadence as this, in inveighing against Mark Antony, or Catiline? What is requisite, therefore, is, that we previously fix, in our mind, a just idea of the general tone of sound which suits our subject; that is, which the sentiments we are to express, most naturally assume, and in which they most commonly vent themselves, whether round and smooth, or stately and solemn, or brisk and quick, or interrupted and abrupt. This general idea must direct the modulation of our periods: to speak in the style of music, must give us the key note, must form the ground of the melody; varied and diversified in parts, according as either our sentiments are diversified, or as is requisite for producing a suitable variety to gratify the ear.

It may be proper to remark, that our translators of the Bible have often been happy in suiting their numbers to the subject. Grave, solemn, and majestic subjects undoubtedly require such an arrangement of words as runs much on long syllables; and, particularly, they require the close to rest upon such. The very first verses of the Bible are remarkable for this melody: "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth; and the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." Several other passages, particularly some of the Psalms, afford striking examples of this sort of grave, melodious construction. Any composition that rises considerably above the ordinary tone of prose, such as monumental inscriptions, and panegyrical characters, naturally runs into numbers of this kind.

But, in the next place, besides the general correspondence of the current of sound with the current of thought, there may be a more particular expression attempted, of certain objects, by means of resembling sounds. This can be sometimes accomplished in prose composition; but there only in a more faint degree; nor is it so much expected there. In poetry, chiefly, it is looked for; where attention to sound is more demanded, and where the inversions and liberties of poetical style give us a greater command of sound; assisted, too, by the versification, and that cantus obscurior, to which we are naturally led in reading poetry. This requires a little more illustration.

The sounds of words may be employed for representing, chiefly, three classes of objects; first, other sounds; secondly, motion; and, thirdly, the emotions and passions of the mind.

Orat. ad Quirites, post Reditum.

First, I say, by a proper choice of words, we may produce a resemblance of other sounds which we mean to describe; such as, the noise of waters, the roaring of winds, or the murmuring of streams. This is the simplest instance of this sort of beauty. For the medium through which we imitate, here, is a natural one; sounds represented by other sounds; and between ideas of the same sense, it is easy to form a connexion. No very great art is required in a poet, when he is describing sweet and soft sounds, to make use of such words as have most liquids and vowels, and glide the softest; or, when he is describing harsh sounds, to throw together a number of harsh syllables which are of difficult pronunciation. Here the common structure of language assists him; for, it will be found, that in most languages, the names of many particular sounds are so formed, as to carry some affinity to the sound which they signify; as with us, the whistling of winds, the buz and hum of insects, the hiss of serpents, the crash of falling timber, and many other instances, where the word has been plainly framed upon the sound it represents. I shall produce a remarkable example of this beauty from Milton, taken from two passages in Paradise Lost, describing the sound made, in the one, by the opening of the gates of Hell; in the other, by the opening of those of Heaven. The contrast between the two, displays to great advantage, the poet's art. is the opening of Hell's gates:

On a sudden, open fly,

With impetuous recoil, and jarring sound,
Th' infernal doors; and on their hinges grate

Harsh thunder.

Observe, now, the smoothness of the other:

Heaven opened wide

Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound,
On golden hinges turning.

The following beautiful passage from Tasso's

B. i.

B. ii.

The first

Gierusalemme, has

been often admired, on account of the imitation effected by sound

of the thing represented:

Chiama gli habitator de l'ombre eterne
Il rauco suon de la Tartarea tromba:
Treman le spaciose atre caverne,
Et l'aer cieco a quel rumor rimbomba;
Ni stridendo cosí de la superne
Regioni dele cielo, il folgor piomba;
Ne si scossa giammai la terra,

Quand i vapori in sen gravida serra.

CANT. IV. Stanz. 4.

The second class of objects, which the sound of words is often employed to imitate, is, Motion; as it is swift or slow, violent or gentle, equable or interrupted, easy or accompanied with effort. Though there be no natural affinity between sound of any kind, and motion, yet, in the imagination there is a strong one; as

appears from the connexion between music and dancing. And therefore, here it is in the poet's power to give us a lively idea of the kind of motion he would describe, by means of sounds which correspond, in our imagination, with that motion. Long syllables naturally give the impression of slow emotion; as in this line of Virgil:

Olli inter sese magna vi brachia tollunt.

A succession of short syllables presents quick motion to the mind; as,

Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum.

Both Homer and Virgil are great masters of this beauty, and their works abound with instances of it: most of them, indeed, so often quoted and so well known, that it is needless to produce them. I shall give one instance, in English, which seems happy. It is the description of a sudden calm on the seas, in a Poem entitled, The Fleece.

With easy course

The vessels glide; unless their speed be stopped
By dead calms, that oft lie on these smooth seas
When every zephyr sleeps; then the shrouds drop;
The downy feather on the cordage hung

Moves not; the flat sea shines like yellow gold
Fused in the fire, or like the marble floor

Of some old temple wide.

The third set of objects, which I mentioned the sound of words as capable of representing, consists of the passions and emotions of the mind. Sound may, at first view, appear foreign to these; but, that here, also, there is some sort of connexion, is sufficiently proved by the power which music has to awaken, or to assist certain passions, and, according as its strain is varied, to introduce one train of ideas, rather than another. This indeed, logically speaking, cannot be called a resemblance between the sense and the sound, seeing long or short syllables have no natural resemblance to any thought or passion. But if the arrangement of syllables, by their sound alone, recall one set of ideas more readily than another, and dispose the mind for entering into that affection which the poet means to raise, such arrangement may, justly enough, be said to resemble the sense, or be similar and correspondent to it. I admit, that, in many instances, which are supposed to display this beauty of accommodation of sound to the sense, there is much room for imagination to work; and, according as a reader is struck by a passage, he will often fancy a resemblance between the sound and the sense, which others cannot discover. He modulates the numbers to his own disposition of mind; and, in effect, makes the music which he imagines himself to hear. However, that there are real instances of this kind, and that poetry is capable of some

such expression, cannot be doubted. Dryden's Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, affords a very beautiful exemplification of it, in the English language. Without much study or reflection, a poet describing pleasure, joy, and agreeable objects, from the feeling of his subject, naturally runs into smooth, liquid, and flowing numbers:

Or,

Namque ipsa decoram

Cæsariem nato genitrix, lumenque juventæ
Purpureum, et lætos oculis afflârat honores.

Devenêre locos lætos et amoena vireta,
Fortunatorum nemorum, sedesque beatas;
Largior hic campos æther, et lumine vestit
Purpureo, solemque suum, sua sidera nôrunt.

Æn. I.

Æn. VI.

Brisk and lively sensations exact quicker and more animated numbers:

Juvenum manus emicat ardens

Littus in Hesperium.

Æn. VII.

Melancholy and gloomy subjects naturally express themselves in slow measures and long words:

In those deep solitudes and awful cells,

Where heavenly pensive contemplation dwells.

Et caligantem nigrå formidine lucum.

I have now given sufficient openings into this subject: a moderate acquaintance with the good poets, either ancient or modern, will suggest many instances of the same kind. And with this, I finish the discussion of the Structure of Sentences; having fully considered them under all the heads I mentioned; of Perspicuity, Unity, Strength, and Musical Arrangement.

LECTURE XIV.

ORIGIN AND NATURE OF FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE.

HAVING now finished what related to the construction of sentences, I proceed to other rules concerning Style. My general division of the qualities of Style, was into Perspicuity and Ornament. Perspicuity, both in single words and in Sentences, I have considered. Ornament, as far as it arises from a graceful, strong, or melodious construction of words, has also

been treated of. Another, and a great branch of the ornament of Style, is, Figurative Language; which is now to be the subject of our consideration, and will require a full discussion. Our first inquiry must be, what is meant by Figures of Speech?

*

In general, they always imply some departure from simplicity of expression; the idea which we intend to convey, not only enunciated to others, but enunciated in a particular manner, and with some circumstance added which is designed to render the impression more strong and vivid. When I say, for instance, "That a good man enjoys comfort in the midst of adversity;" I just express my thought in the simplest manner possible. But when I say, "To the upright there ariseth light in darkness; the same sentiment is expressed in a Figurative Style; a new circumstance is introduced; light is put in the place of comfort, and darkness is used to suggest the idea of adversity. In the same manner to say, "It is impossible by any search we can make, to explore the divine nature fully," is to make a simple proposition. But when we say, "Canst thou, by searching, find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty to perfection? It is high as Heaven, what canst thou do? deeper than Hell, what canst thou know?" This introduces a Figure into Style; the proposition being not only expressed, but admiration and astonishment being expressed together with it.

But, though Figures imply a deviation from what may be reckoned the most simple form of Speech, we are not thence to conclude, that they imply anything uncommon or unnatural. This is so far from being the case, that on very many occasions, they are both the most natural, and the most common method of uttering our sentiments. It is impossible to compose any discourse without using them often; nay, there are few sentences of any length, in which some expression or other, that may be termed a Figure, does not occur. From what causes this happens, shall be afterwards explained. The fact, in the mean time, shows that they are to be accounted part of that Language which nature dictates to men. They are not the inventions of the schools, nor the mere product of study: on the contrary, the most illiterate speak in Figures, as often as the most learned. Whenever the imaginations of the vulgar are much awakened, or their passions inflamed against one another, they will pour forth a torrent of Figurative Language; as forcibly as could be employed by the most artificial declaimer.

What then is it, which has drawn the attention of critics and

*On the subject of Figures of Speech, all the writers who treat of rhetoric or composition, have insisted largely. To make references, therefore, on this subject, were endless. On the foundations of Figurative Language, in general one of the most sensible and instructive writers appears to me to be M. Marsais, in his Traité des Tropes pour servir d' Introduction à la Rhetorique, et à la Logique. For observations on particular Figures, the Elements of Criticism may be consulted, where the subject is fully handled, and illustrated by a great variety of examples.