Part 8

Shakespear says[33], “You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice by fanning in his face with _a peacock’s_ feather.” The peacock’s feather, not to mention the beauty of the object, completes the image. An accurate image cannot be formed of this fanciful operation, without conceiving a particular feather; and the mind is at some loss, when this is not specified in the decription. Again, “The rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse, as they would have drown’d a bitch’s blind puppies, fifteen i’ th’ litter[34].”

_Old Lady._ You would not be a queen?

_Anne._ No not for all the riches under heaven.

_Old Lady._ ’Tis strange: a three-pence bow’d would hire me, old as I am, to queen it. _Henry VIII. act 2. sc. 5._

In the following passage, the action, with all its material circumstances, is represented so much to the life, that it could not be better conceived by a real spectator; and it is this manner of description which contributes greatly to the sublimity of the passage.

He spake; and to confirm his words, out-flew Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs Of mighty cherubim: the sudden blaze Far round illumin’d hell: highly they rag’d Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms, Clash’d on their sounding shields the din of war, Hurling defiance toward the vault of heav’n. _Milton, b. I._

A passage I am to cite from Shakespear, falls not much short of that now mentioned in particularity of description:

O you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome! Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climb’d up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms; and there have sat The live-long day with patient expectation To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome. And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tyber trembled underneath his banks, To hear the replication of your sounds, Made in his concave shores? _Julius Cæsar, act 1, sc. 1._

The _Henriade_ of Voltaire errs greatly against the foregoing rule: every thing is touched in a summary way, without ever descending to the circumstances of an event. This manner is good in a general history, the purpose of which is to record important transactions: but in a fable, which hath a very different aim, it is cold and uninteresting; because it is impracticable to form distinct images of persons or things represented in a manner so superficial.

It is observed above, that every useless circumstance ought to be suppressed. To deal in such circumstances, is a fault, on the one hand, not less to be avoided, than the conciseness for which Voltaire is blamed, on the other. In the _Æneid_[35], Barce, the nurse of Sichæus, whom we never hear of before or after, is introduced for a purpose not more important than to call Anna to her sister Dido. And that it might not be thought unjust in Dido, even in this trivial incident, to prefer her husband’s nurse before her own, the poet takes care to inform his reader, that Dido’s nurse was dead. To this I must oppose a beautiful passage in the same book, where, after Dido’s last speech, the poet, supposing her dead, hastens to describe the lamentation of her attendants:

Dixerat: atque illam media inter talia ferro Collapsam aspiciunt comites, ensemque cruore Spumantem, sparsasque manus. It clamor ad alta Atria, concussam bacchatur fama per urbem; Lamentis gemituque et fœmineo ululatu Tecta fremunt, resonat magnis plangoribus æther. _Lib. 4. l. 663._

As an appendix to the foregoing rule, I add the following observation, That to raise a sudden and strong impression, some single circumstance happily selected, has more power than the most laboured description. Macbeth, mentioning to his lady some voices he heard while he was murdering the King, says,

There’s one did laugh in’s sleep, and one cry’d Murder! They wak’d each other; and I stood and heard them; But they did say their prayers, and address them Again to sleep.

_Lady._ There are two lodg’d together.

_Macbeth._ One cry’d, God bless us! and, Amen! the other; As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands. Listening their fear, I could not say, Amen, When they did say, God bless us.

_Lady._ Consider it not so deeply.

_Macbeth._ But wherefore could not I pronounce, Amen? I had most need of blessing, and Amen Stuck in my throat.

_Lady._ These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

_Macbeth._ Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Macbeth doth murder sleep, _&c_. _Act 2. sc. 3._

Describing Prince Henry:

I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm’d, Rise from the ground like feather’d Mercury; And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropt down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship. _First Part Henry IV. act 4. sc. 2._

_King Henry._ Lord Cardinal, if thou think’st on heaven’s bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. He dies, and makes no sign! _Second Part Henry VI. act 3. sc. 10._

The same author, speaking ludicrously of an army debilitated with diseases, says,

Half of them dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces.

To draw a character is the master-stroke of description. In this Tacitus excels: his figures are natural, distinct, and complete; not a feature wanting or misplaced. Shakespear however exceeds Tacitus in the sprightliness of his figures: some characteristical circumstance is generally invented or laid hold of, which paints more to the life than many words. The following instances will explain my meaning, and at the same time prove my observation to be just.

Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice, By being peevish? I tell that what, Anthonio, (I love thee, and it is my love that speaks): There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond; And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dress’d in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who should say, I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! O my Anthonio, I do know of those, That therefore only are reputed wise, For saying nothing. _Merchant of Venice, act 1. sc. 1._

Again,

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice: his reasons are two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.

_Ibid_.

In the following passage a character is completed by a single stroke.

_Shallow._ O the mad days that I have spent; and to see how many of mine old acquaintance are dead.

_Silence._ We shall all follow, Cousin.

_Shallow._ Certain, ’tis certain, very sure, very sure; Death (as the Psalmist saith) is certain to all: all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?

_Slender._ Truly, Cousin, I was not there.

_Shallow._ Death is certain. Is old _Double_ of your town living yet.

_Silence._ Dead, Sir.

_Shallow._ Dead! see, see; he drew a good bow: and dead? He shot a fine shoot. How a score of ewes now?

_Silence._ Thereafter as they be. A score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds.

_Shallow._ And is old _Double_ dead?

_Second Part Henry IV. act 3. sc. 3._

Describing a jealous husband:

Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his note. There is no hiding you in the house.

_Merry Wives of Windsor, act 4. sc. 3._

Congreve has an inimitable stroke of this kind in his comedy of _Love for Love_:

_Ben Legend._ Well, father, and how do all at home? how does brother Dick, and brother Val?

_Sir Sampson._ Dick, body o’ me, Dick has been dead these two years, I writ you word, when you were at Leghorn.

_Ben._ Mess, that’s true; marry, I had forgot. Dick’s dead, as you say.

_Act 3. sc. 6._

Falstaff speaking of Ancient Pistol,

He’s no swaggerer, hostess; a tame cheater i’ faith; you may stroak him as gently as a puppey-greyhound; he will not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any shew of resistence.

_Second Part Henry_ IV. _act 2. sc. 9_.

Some writers, through heat of imagination, fall into contradictions; some are guilty of downright inconsistencies; and some even rave like madmen. Against such capital errors one cannot be warned to better purpose than by collecting instances. The first shall be of a contradiction, the most venial of all. Virgil speaking of Neptune:

Interea magno misceri murmure pontum Emissamque hyemem sensit Neptunus, et imis Stagna refusa vadis: _graviter commotus_, et alto Prospiciens, summâ _placidum_ caput extulit undâ. _Æneid._ i. 128.

Again,

When first young Maro, in his boundless mind, A work t’outlast immortal Rome design’d. _Essay on Criticism, l. 130._

The following examples are of downright inconsistencies.

Alii pulsis e tormento catenis discerpti sectique, dimidiato corpore pugnabant sibi superstites, ac peremptæ partis ultores.

_Strada, Dec. 2. L. 2._

Il povér huomo, che non sen’ era accorto, Andava combattendo, ed era morto. _Berni._

He fled, but flying, left his life behind. _Iliad_ xi. 443.

Full through his neck the weighty falchion sped; Along the pavement roll’d the mutt’ring head. _Odyssey_ xxii. 365.

The last article is of raving like one mad. Cleopatra speaking to the aspick:

---- Welcome, thou kind deceiver, Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key, Do’st open life, and unperceiv’d by us Ev’n steal us from ourselves; discharging so Death’s dreadful office, better than himself, Touching our limbs so gently into slumber, That Death stands by, deceiv’d by his own image, And thinks himself but Sleep. _Dryden, All for Love, act 5._

Reasons that are common and known to every person, ought to be taken for granted: to express them is childish and interrupts the narration. Quintus Curtius, relating the battle of Issus:

Jam in conspectu, sed extra teli jactum, utraque acies erat; quum priores Persæ inconditum et trucem sustulere clamorem. Redditur et a Macedonibus major, exercitus impar numero, sed jugis montium vastisque saltibus repercussus: _quippe semper circumjecta nemora petræque, quantamcumque accepere vocem, multiplicato sono referunt._

Having discussed what observations occurred upon the thoughts or things expressed, I proceed to what more peculiarly concern the language or verbal dress. The language proper for expressing passion is the subject of a former chapter. Several observations there made, are applicable to the present subject; particularly, That words are intimately connected with the ideas they represent, and that the representation cannot be perfect unless the emotions raised by the sound and the sense be concordant. It is not sufficient, that the sense be clearly expressed: the words must correspond to the subject in every particular. An elevated subject requires an elevated style: what is familiar, ought to be familiarly expressed: a subject that is serious and important, ought to be cloathed in plain nervous language: a description, on the other hand, addressed to the imagination, is susceptible of the highest ornaments that sounding words, metaphor, and figurative expression, can bestow upon it.

I shall give a few examples of the foregoing doctrine. A poet of any genius will not readily dress a high subject in low words; and yet blemishes of this kind are found even in some classical works. Horace observing that men, perfectly satisfied with themselves, are seldom so with their condition, introduces Jupiter indulging to each his own choice:

Jam faciam quod vultis: eris tu, qui modo miles, Mercator: tu, consultus modo, rusticus: hinc vos, Vos hinc mutatis discedite partibus: eia, Quid? statis? nolint: atqui licet esse beatis. Quid causæ est, merito quin illis Jupiter ambas Iratus buccas inflet? neque se fore posthac Tam facilem dicat, votis ut præbeat aurem? _Serm, lib. 1. sat. 1. l. 16._

Jupiter in wrath puffing up both cheeks, is a ludicrous expression, far from suitable to the gravity of the subject: every one must feel the discordance. The following couplet, sinking far below the subject, is not less ludicrous.

Not one looks backward, onward still he goes, Yet ne’er looks forward farther than his nose. _Essay on Man_, _ep._ iv. 223.

On the other hand, to raise the expression above the tone of the subject, is a fault than which none is more common. Take the following instances.

Orcan le plus fidéle à server ses desseins, Né sous le ciel brûlant des plus noirs Affricains. _Bajazet, act 3. sc. 8._

Les ombres par trois fois ont obscurci les cieux Depuis que le sommeil n’est entré dans vos yeux; Et le jour a trois fois chassé la nuit obscure Depuis que votre corps languit sans nourriture. _Phedra, act 1. sc. 3._

_Assuerus._ Ce mortel, qui montra tant de zéle pour moi, Vit-il encore?

_Asaph._---- Il voit l’astre qui vous éclaire. _Esther, act 2. sc. 3._

Oui, c’est Agamemnon, c’est ton Roi qui t’eveille; Viens, reconnois la voix qui frape ton oreille. _Iphigenie._

In the inner room I spy a winking lamp, that weakly strikes The ambient air, scarce kindling into light. _Southerne, Fate of Capua, act 3._

In the funeral orations of the Bishop of Meaux, the following passages are raised far above the tone of the subject.

L’Ocean etonné de se voir traversé tant de fois en des appareils si divers, et pour des causes si differentes, &_c._

_p. 6._

Grande Reine, je satisfais à vos plus tendres desirs, quand je célébre ce monarque; et ce cœur qui n’a jamais vêcu que pour lui, se eveille, tout poudre qu’il est, et devient sensible, même sous ce drap mortuaire, au nom d’un epoux si cher.

_p. 32._

Montesquieu, in a didactic work, _L’esprit des Loix_, gives too great indulgence to imagination: the tone of his language swells frequently above his subject. I give an example:

Mr le Comte de Boulainvilliers et Mr l’Abbé Dubos ont fait chacun un systeme, dont l’un semble être une conjuration contre le tiers-etat, et l’autre une conjuration contre la noblesse. Lorsque le Soleil donna à Phaéton son char à conduire, il lui dit: Si vous montez trop haut, vous brulerez la demeure céleste; si vous descendez trop bas, vous réduirez en cendres la terre: n’allez point trop a droite, vous tomberiez dans la constellation du serpent; n’allez point trop à gauche, vous iriez dans celle de l’autel: tenez-vous entre les deux.

_L. ch. 10._

The following passage, intended, one would imagine, as a receipt to boil water, is altogether burlesque by the laboured elevation of the diction.

A massy caldron of stupendous frame They brought, and plac’d it o’er the rising flame: Then heap the lighted wood; the flame divides Beneath the vase, and climbs around the sides: In its wide womb they pour the rushing stream; The boiling water bubbles to the brim.

_Pope’s Homer_, _book_ xviii. 405.

In a passage near the beginning of the 4th book of Telamachus, one feels a sudden bound upward without preparation, which accords not with the subject:

Calypso, qui avoit été jusqu’ à ce moment immobile et transportée de plaisir en écoutant les avantures de Télémaque, l’interrompit pour lui faire prendre quelque repos. Il est tems, lui dit-elle, que vous alliez goûter la douceur du sommeil aprés tant de travaux. Vous n’avez rien à craindre ici; tout vous est favorable. Abandonnez-vous donc à la joye. Goûtez la paix, et tous les autres dons des dieux dont vous allez être comblé. Demain, _quand l’Aurore avec ses doigts de roses entr’ouvrira les portes dorées de l’Orient, et que les chevaux du soleil sortans de l’onde amére répandront les flames du jour, pour chasser devant eux toutes les etoiles du ciel_, nous reprendrons, mon cher Télémaque, l’histoire de vos malheurs.

This obviously is copied from a similar passage in the Æneid, which ought not to have been copied, because it lies open to the same censure: but the force of authority is great.

At regina gravi jamdudum saucia cura, Vulnus alit venis, & cæco carpitur igni. Multa viri virtus animo, multusque recursat Gentis honos: hærent infixi pectore vultus, Verbaque: nec placidam membris dat cura quietem. _Postera Phœbea lustrabat lampade terras, Humentemque Aurora polo dimoverat umbram_; Cum sic unanimem alloquitur malesana sororem:

_Lib._ iv. 1.

Take another example where the words rise above the subject:

Ainsi les peuples y accoururent bientôt en foule de toutes parts; le commerce de cette ville étoit semblable au flux et reflux de la mer. Les trésors y entroient comme les flots viennent l’un sur l’autre. Tout y etoit apporté et en sortoit librement: tout ce qui y entroit, étoit utile; toute ce qui en sortoit, laissoit en sortant d’autres richesses en sa place. La justice sevére presidoit dans le port au milieu de tant de nations. La franchise, la bonne foi, la candeur, sembloient du haut de ces superbs tours appeller les marchands des terres les plus éloignées: chacun des ces marchands, _soit qu’il vint des rives orientales où le soleil sort chaque jour du sein des ondes, soit qu’il fût parti de cette grande mer ou le soleil assé de son cours va eteindre ses feux_, vivoit plaisible et en sureté dans Salente comme dans sa patrie!

_Telemaque, l. 12._

The language of Homer is suited to his subject, not less accurately than the actions and sentiments of his heroes are to their characters. Virgil, in this particular, falls short of perfection: his language is stately throughout; and though he descends at times to the simplest branches of cookery, roasting and boiling for example, yet he never relaxes a moment from the high tone[36]. In adjusting his language to his subject, no writer equals Swift. I can recollect but one exception, which at the same time is far from being gross. The journal of a modern lady, is composed in a style where sprightliness is blended with familiarity, perfectly suited to the subject. In one passage, however, the poet assumes a higher tone, which corresponds neither to the subject nor to the tone of language employ’d in the rest of that piece. The passage I have in view begins _l._ 116. “But let me now a while survey,” &_c._ and ends at _l._ 135.

It is proper to be observed upon this head, that writers of inferior rank are continually upon the stretch to enliven and enforce their subject by exaggeration and superlatives. This unluckily has an effect opposite to what is intended: the reader, disgusted with language that swells above the subject, is led by contrast to think more meanly of the subject than it may possibly deserve. A man of prudence, beside, will be not less careful to husband his strength in writing than in walking: a writer too liberal of superlatives, exhausts his whole stock upon ordinary incidents, and reserves no share to express, with greater energy, matters of importance[37].

The power that language possesses to imitate thought, goes farther than to the capital circumstances above mentioned: it reacheth even the slighter modifications. Slow action, for example, is imitated by words pronounced slow; labour or toil, by words harsh or rough in their sound. But this subject has been already handled[38].

In dialogue-writing, the condition of the speaker is chiefly to be regarded in framing the expression. The centinel in _Hamlet_, interrogated about the ghost, whether his watch had been quiet? answers with great propriety for a man in his station, “Not a mouse stirring[39].”

I proceed to a second remark, not less important than the former. No person of reflection but must be sensible, that an incident makes a stronger impression on an eye-witness, than when heard at second hand. Writers of genius, sensible that the eye is the best avenue to the heart, represent every thing as passing in our sight; and from readers or hearers, transform us, as it were, into spectators. A skilful writer conceals himself, and presents his personages. In a word, every thing becomes dramatic as much as possible. Plutarch, _de gloria Atheniensium_, observes, that Thucydides makes his reader a spectator, and inspires him with the same passions as if he were an eye-witness. I am intitled to make the same observation upon our countryman Swift. From this happy talent arises that energy of style which is peculiar to him: he cannot always avoid narration; but the pencil is his choice, by which he bestows life and colouring upon his objects. Pope is richer in ornament, but possesses not in the same degree the talent of drawing from the life. A translation of the sixth satire of Horace, begun by the former and finished by the latter, affords the fairest opportunity for a comparison. Pope obviously imitates the picturesque manner of his friend: yet every one of taste must be sensible, that the imitation, though fine, falls short of the original. In other instances, where Pope writes in his own style, the difference of manner is still more conspicuous.

Abstract or general terms have no good effect in any competition for amusement; because it is only of particular objects that images can be formed[40]. Shakespear’s style in that respect is excellent. Every article in his descriptions is particular, as in nature; and if accidentally a vague expression slip in, the blemish is extremely discernible by the bluntness of its impression. Take the following example. Falstaff, excusing himself for running away at a robbery, says,

By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters; was it for me to kill the heir-apparent? should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as Hercules; but beware instinct, the lion will not touch the true prince: instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on instinct: I shall think the better of myself, and thee, during my life; I, for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be merry? shall we have a play _extempore_?

_First Part Henry IV. act 2. sc. 9._

The particular words I object to are, _instinct is a great matter_, which make but a poor figure, compared with the liveliness of the rest of the speech. It was one of Homer’s advantages, that he wrote before general terms were multiplied: the superior genius of Shakespear displays itself in avoiding them after they were multiplied. Addison describes the family of Sir Roger de Coverley in the following words.

You would take his valet de chambre for his brother, his butler is gray-headed, his groom is one of the gravest men that I have ever seen, and his coachman has the looks of a privy counsellor.

_Spectator_, Nº 106.