NARRATION, in oratory, poetry, and history, a recital or rehearsal of a fact as it happened, or as it is supposed to have happened. See ORATORY, no 26. 123.
Concerning NARRATION and DESCRIPTION, we have the following rules and observations in the Elements of Criticism.
1. The first rule is, That in history the reflections ought to be chaste and solid; for while the mind is intent upon truth, it is little disposed to the operation of the imagination. Strada's Belgie history is full of poetical images, which, being discordant with the subject, are unpleasant; and they have a still worse effect, by giving an air of fiction to a genuine history. Such flowers ought to be scattered with a sparing hand; even in epic poetry; and at no rate are they proper till the reader be warmed, and by an enlivened imagination be prepared to relish them: in that state of mind, they are agreeable; but while we are sedate and attentive to an historical chain of facts, we reject with disdain every fiction.
2. Vids, following Horace, recommends a modest commencement of an epic poem; giving for a reason, that the writer ought to husband his fire. Besides, bold thoughts and figures are never relished till the mind be heated and thoroughly engaged, which is not the reader's case at the commencement. Homer introduces not a single simile in the first book of the Iliad, nor in the first book of the Odyssey. On the
other hand, Shakespeare begins one of his plays with Narration, a sentiment too bold for the most heated imagination:
Holford. Hung be the heav'n's with black, yield day to night!
Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky, And with them scourge the bad revolting stars, That have conspired unto Henry's death! Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long! England ne'er lost a king or so much worth.
First part Henry VI.
The passage with which Strada begins his history, is too poetical for a subject of that kind; and at any rate too high for the beginning of a grave performance.
3. A third rule or observation is, That where the subject is intended for entertainment solely, not for instruction, a thing ought to be described as it appears, not as it is in reality. In running, for example, the impulse upon the ground is proportioned in some degree to the celerity of motion; though in appearance it is otherwise, for a person in swift motion seems to skim the ground, and scarcely to touch it. Virgil, with great taste, describes quick running according to appearance; and raises an image far more lively than by adhering scrupulously to truth:
Hos super advenit Volscæ de gente Camilla,
Agmen agens equitum et florentes ære catervas,
Bellatrix: non illa colo calathive Minervæ
Fœmineas affueta manus; sed prælia virgo
Dura pati, curfuque per æum prævertere ventos.
Illa vel intactæ segetis per summa volaret
Gramina: nec teneras cursu læssisset aristas:
Vel mare per medium, fluctu suspensa tumentis,
Ferret iter: celeres nec tingeret æquore plantas.
Æn. vii. 803.
4. In narration as well as in description, objects ought to be painted so accurately as to form in the mind of the reader distinct and lively images. Every useful circumstance ought indeed to be suppressed, because every such circumstance loads the narration; but if a circumstance be necessary, however slight, it cannot be described too minutely. The force of language consists in raising complete images, which have the effect to transport the reader as by magic into the very place of the important action, and to convert him as it were into a spectator, beholding every thing that passes. The narrative in an epic poem ought to rival a picture in the liveliness and accuracy of its representations: no circumstance must be omitted that tends to make a complete image; because an imperfect image, as well as any other imperfect conception, is cold and uninteresting. We shall illustrate this rule by several examples, giving the first place to a beautiful passage from Virgil:
Qualis populeæ mœrens Philomela sub umbrâ
Amisos queritur iectus, quos durus arator
Observans nido implumes detraxit.
Georg. lib. 4. l. 511.
The popular, plowman, and unsledged young, though not essential in the description, tend to make a complete image, and upon that account are an embellishment.
Again:
Hic viridem Aeneas frontenti ex ilice metam
Constituit, signum nautis. Aeneid. v. 129.
Te pauper ambit sollicita prece
Ruris colonus: te dominam æquoris,
Quicumque Bithynæ laceffit
Carpathium pelagus carinâ. Carm. lib. 1. ode 35.
— Illum ex manibus hosticis
Matrona bellantis tyranni
Propiciens, et adulta virgo,
Suspirat: Eheu, ne rudis agminum
Sponsus laceffit regius asperum
Tactu leonem, quem cruenta
Per medias rapit ira cædes. Carm. lib. 3. ode 2.
Shakespeare says, "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 that fanciful operation, without conceiving a particular feather; and one is at a loss when this is neglected in the description. Again, "The rogues lighted me into the river with as little remorse, as they would have drown'd a bitch's blind puppies, fifteen i' th' litter."
Old Lady. You would not be a queen?
Anna. No, not for all the riches under heaven.
Old Lady. 'Tis strange: a three-pence how'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 would scarce appear more distinct to a real spectator; and it is the manner of description that 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. 1.
The following passage from Shakespeare 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 tow'rs 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 Caesar, act 1. sc. 1.
The following passage is scarce inferior to either of Narrations
those mentioned:
"Far before the rest, the son of Ossian comes:
bright in the smiles of youth, fair as the full beams
of the sun. His long hair waves on his back: his
dark brow is half beneath his helmet. The sword
hangs loose on the hero's side; and his spear glitters
as he moves. I fled from his terrible eye, King of
high Temora." Fingal.
The Henriade of Voltaire errs greatly against the foregoing rule: every incident is touched in a summary way, without ever descending to circumstances. This manner is good in a general history, the purpose of which is to record important transactions: but in a fable 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. The crowding such circumstances is, on the one hand, not less to be avoided, than the conciseness for which Voltaire is blamed, on the other. In the Aeneid, Barce, the nurse of Sichæus, whom we never hear of before nor 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 circumstance, 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 may be opposed a beautiful passage in the same book, where, after Dido's last speech, the poet, without detaining his readers by describing the manner of her death, hastens to the lamentation of her attendants:
Dixerat: atque illam media inter talia ferro
Collapsam aspiciunt comites, ensemque eruo
Spumantem, sparsaque manus. It clamor ad alta
Atria, concussam bacchatur fama per urbem;
Lamentis gemituque et femineo ululatu
Tecta fremunt, resonat magnis plangoribus æther.
Lib. 4. l. 665.
As an appendix to the foregoing rule, may be added the following observation, That to make 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 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.
I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cushions 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.
"I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were
defolate. The flames had resounded in the halls: and
the voice of the people is heard no more. The stream
of Clutha was removed from its place by the fall of the
walls. The thistle shook there its lonely head: the
moss whistled to the wind. The fox looked out from
the windows; and the rank grass of the wall waved
round his head. Defolate is the dwelling of Morna:
silence is in the house of her fathers."
To draw a character is the master stroke of descrip-
tion. In this Tacitus excels: his portraits are natural
and lively, not a feature wanting or misplaced. Shake-
speare, however, exceeds Tacitus in liveliness; some
characteristical circumstance being generally invented
or laid hold of, which paints more to the life than
many words. The following instances will explain our
meaning, and at the same time prove our observation
to be just.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandfire cut in alabaster?
Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice,
By being peevish? I tell thee 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 dressed in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,
And when I open my lips, let no dog bark!
O my Anthonio! I do know of those,
That therefore only are reputed wise,
For saying nothing.
"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."
"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.
"He's no swaggerer, ho'less; a tame cheater; faith;
you may stroak him as gently as a puppy-greyhound;
he will not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers
turn back in any show of resistance."
"O Oscar! bend the strong in arm; but spare the
feeble hand. Be thou a stream of many tides against
the foes of thy people; but like the gale that moves the
grass to those who ask thine aid.—So Trenmor lived;
such Frathal was; and such has Fingal been. My arm
was the support of the injured; and the weak rested
behind the lightning of my steel."
"We heard the voice of joy on the coast, and we
thought that the mighty Cathmor came. Cathmor the
friend of strangers! the brother of red-haired Cairbar!
But their souls were not the same; for the light of hea-
ven was in the bosom of Cathmor. His towers rose on
the banks of Atha: seven paths led to his halls: seven
chiefs stood on these paths, and called the stranger to
the feast. But Cathmor dwelt in the wood to avoid the
voice of praise."
"Dermid and Oscar were one: they reaped the
battle together. Their friendship was strong as their
steel;
Narration. steel; and death walked between them to the field. They rush on the foe like two rocks falling from the brow of Arven. Their swords are stained with the blood of the valiant: warriors faint at their name. Who is equal to Oscar but Dermid? who to Dermid but Oscar?"
"Son of Comhal, replied the chief, the strength of Morni's arm has failed: I attempted to draw the sword of my youth, but it remains in its place: I throw the spear, but it falls short of the mark: and I feel the weight of my shield. We decay like the grass of the mountain, and our strength returns no more. I have a son, O Fingal! his soul has delighted in the actions of Morni's youth; but his sword has not been fitted against the foe, neither has his fame begun. I come with him to battle, to direct his arm. His renown will be a sun to my soul, in the dark hour of my departure. O that the name of Morni were forgot among the people! that the heroes would only say, Bishold the father of Gaul."
Some writers, through heat of imagination, fall into contradiction; some are guilty of downright absurdities; and some even rave like madmen. Against such capital errors one cannot be more effectually warned than by collecting instances; and the first shall be of a contradiction, the most venial of all. Virgil speaking of Neptune,
Interea magno miseri murmure pontum,
Emiffamque hyemem sensit Neptunus, et imis
Stagna refusa vadis: graviter commotus, et alto
Prosperiens, summa placidum caput extulit unda.
Enaid. i. 128.
When first young Maro, in his boundless mind,
A work t'outlast immortal Rome design'd.
Essay on Criticism, l. 30.
The following examples are of absurdities.
"Alii pulsis e tormento catenis discepti festique,
dimidiato corpore pugnant sibi superstiti, ac per-
emptæ 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.
Ilad, 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 asp,
———Welcome, thou kind deceiver,
Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key,
Dost 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, all 5.
Having discussed what observations occurred upon the thoughts or things expressed, we proceed to what more peculiarly concerns the language or verbal dress.
Vol. XII. Part II.
As words are intimately connected with the ideas they Narration. represent, the emotions raised by the sound and by the sense ought to be concordant. 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 clothed in plain nervous language: a description, on the other hand, addressed to the imagination, is susceptible of the highest ornaments that sounding words and figurative expression can bestow upon it.
We shall give a few examples of the foregoing rules. A poet of any genius is not apt to dress a high subject in low words; and yet blemishes of that kind are found even in classical works. Horace, observing that men are satisfied with themselves, but seldom 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: eis,
Quid statis? nolint: atqui licet esse beatis.
Quid causa est, merito quin illis Jupiter ambas
Iratus buccas inflet? neque se fore posthac
Tam facilem dicat, votis ut prebeat aurem?
Sat. lib. 1. sat. 1. l. 16.
Jupiter in wrath puffing up both cheeks, is a low and even ludicrous expression, far from suitable to the gravity and importance of the subject: every one must feel the discordance. The following couplet, sinking far below the subject, is no 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:
Ocean le plus fidèle à servir ses deffeins,
Ne sous le ciel brûlant des plus noirs Africains.
Bajacet, all 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, all 1. sc. 3.
Assurer. Ce mortel, qui montra tant de zèle pour moi, Vit-il encore?
Asaph. ——— Il voit l'astre qui vous éclaire.
Esfer, all 2. sc. 3.
Oui, c'est Agamemnon, c'est ton roi qui t'éveille;
Viens, reconnois la voix qui frappe ton oreille.
Iphigenie.
No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
And the king's rowse the heav'n shall bruit again,
Respeaking earthly thunder.
Hamlet, all 1. sc. 2.
——— In the inner room
I spy a winking lair, that weakly strikes
The ambient air, scarce kindling into light.
Southern, Fate of Cupid, all 3.
In the funeral orations of the bishop of Meaux, the following passages are raised far above the tone of the subject:
"L'Ocean étonné de se voir traversé tant de fois, en
4 M des
Narration. des appareils si divers, et pour des eauses si diferentes, &c."
p. 6.
"Grande reine, je satisfais à vos plus tendres désirs, quand je célèbre ce monarque; et son cœur qui n'a jamais vécu qui pour lui, se éveille, tout poudre qu'il est, et devint sensible, même sous ce drap mortuaire, au nom d'un époux si cher"
p. 32.
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 cauldron 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.
Iliad. xviii. 405.
In a passage at the beginning of the 4th book of Telemachus, 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 aventures de Télémaque, l'interrompit pour lui faire prendre quelque repos. Il est temps, lui dit-elle, que vous alliez goûter la douceur du sommeil après tant de travaux. Vous n'avez rien à craindre ici; tout vous est favorable. Abandonnez vous donc à la joie. Goutez la paix, et tous les autres dons des dieux dont vous allez être comblé. Demain, quand l'Aurore avec ses doigts de vases entr'ouvrira les portes dorées de l'Orient, et que le cheval du soleil sortant de l'onde amère répandront les flammes du jour, pour chasser devant eux toutes les étoiles du ciel, nous reprendrons, mon cher Télémaque, l'histoire de vos malheurs."
This obviously is copied from a similar passage in the Aeneid, 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 jam dudum faucia cura
Vulnus alit venis, et ceco carpitur igni.
Multa viri virtus animo, multusque recurvat
Gentis honos: hærent infixi pectore vultus,
Verbaque: nec placidam membris dat cura quietem.
Postera Phæbea iustabat lampade terras,
Humentemque Aurora polo dimoverat umbram;
Cum sic unanimem alloquitur malefana fororem.
Lib. iv. 1.
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 that particular, falls short of perfection: his language is flatly 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.—In adjusting his language to his subject, no writer equals Swift. We 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 blending sprightliness with familiarity, perfectly suited to the subject: in one passage, however, the poet, deviating from that style, takes a tone above his subject.
The passage we have in view begins l. 116. But let Narration. me now a noble 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 contrary 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 no 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.
Many writers of that kind abound so in epithets, as if poetry consisted entirely in high-sounding words. Take the following instance:
When black-brow'd night her dusky mantle spread,
And wrapt in solemn gloom the sable sky;
When soothing sleep her opiate dews had shed,
And seal'd in silken slumbers every eye:
My waking thought admits no balmy rest,
Nor the sweet bliss of soft oblivion share:
But watchful wo distracts my aching breast,
My heart the subject of corroding care:
From haunts of men with wandering steps and slow
I solitary steal, and soothe my pensive woe.
Here every substantive is faithfully attended by some tumid epithet.
We 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.
In the fine arts, it is a rule to put the capital objects in the strongest point of view; and even to present them oftener than once, where it can be done. In history-painting, the principal figure is placed in the front, and in the best light: an equestrian statue is placed in a centre of streets, that it may be seen from many places at once. In no composition is there greater opportunity for this rule than in writing:
Sequitur pulcherrimus Astur,
Astur equo fidens et verficoloribus armis.
Aeneid. x. 180.
Full many a lady
I've ey'd with best regard, and many a time
Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
Have I lik'd several women; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace the owd,
And put it to the foil. But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.
Tempest, ad 3. sc. 1.
Orlando.
Orlando. ——— What'er you are
That, in the desert inaccessible,
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ;
If ever you have look'd on better days ;
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church ;
If ever sat at any good man's feast ;
If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear,
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pity'd ;
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be,
In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.
Duke sen. True is it that we have seen better days ;
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church ;
And sat at good mens feasts ; and wip'd our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity had engender'd :
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have,
That to your wanting may be ministered.
As you like it.
With the conversing I forgot all time ;
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams on herbs, tree, fruit, and flow'r ;
Glinting with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft show'rs ; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful ev'ning mild, the silent night
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heav'n, her starry train :
But neither breath of morn, when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flow'r,
Glinting with dew, nor fragrance after show'rs,
Nor grateful ev'ning mild, nor silent night,
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon,
Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.
Paradise Lost, book 4. l. 634.
"What mean ye, that ye use this proverb, The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge? As I live, faith the Lord God, ye shall not have occasion to use this proverb in Israel. If a man keep my judgments to deal truly, he is just, he shall surely live. But if he be a robber, a shedder of blood ; if he have eaten upon the mountains, and defiled his neighbour's wife ; if he have oppressed the poor and needy, have spoiled by violence, have not restored the pledge, have lift up his eyes to idols, have given forth upon usury, and have taken increase : shall he live? he shall not live : he shall surely die ; and his blood shall be upon him. Now, lo, if he beget a son, that seeth all his father's sins, and considereth, and doth not such like ; that hath not eaten upon the mountains, hath not lift up his eyes to idols, nor defiled his neighbour's wife, hath not oppressed any, nor withheld the pledge, neither hath spoiled by violence, but hath given his bread to the hungry, and covered the naked with a garment ; that hath not received usury nor increase, that hath executed my judgments, and walked in my statutes : he shall not die for the iniquity of his father ; he shall surely live. The soul that sinneth, it shall die ; the son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son ; the righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be
upon him. Have I any pleasure that the wicked should die, faith the Lord God ; and not that he should return from his ways, and live?" Exekiel xvii.
A concise comprehensive style is a great ornament in narration ; and a superfluity of unnecessary words, not less than of circumstances, a great nuisance. A judicious selection of the striking circumstances, clothed in a nervous style, is delightful. In this style, Tacitus excels all writers, ancient and modern. Instances are numberless : take the following specimen :
"Crebra hinc prælia, et sæpius in modum latrociniis : per saltus, per paludes ; ut cuique fors aut virtus : temerè, proviso, ob iram, ob prædam, iussu, et aliquando ignaris ducibus." Annal. lib. 12. § 39.
After Tacitus, Ossian in that respect justly merits the place of distinction. One cannot go wrong for examples in any part of the book.
If a concise or nervous style be a beauty, tautology must be a blemish ; and yet writers, fettered by vice, are not sufficiently careful to avoid this slovenly practice : they may be pitied, but they cannot be justified. Take for a specimen the following instances, from the best poet, for versification at least, that England has to boast of :
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray ;
Th' unweary'd blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies.
Iliad v. 5.
Strength and omnipotence invest thy throne.
Ibid. viii. 576.
So silent fountains, from a rock's tall head,
In sable streams soft trickling waters shed.
Ibid. ix. 19.
His clanging armour rung. Ibid. xii. 94.
Fear on their cheek, and horror in their eye.
Ibid. xv. 4.
The blaze of armour flash'd against the day.
Ibid. xvii. 736.
As when the piercing blasts of Boreas blow.
Ibid. xix. 380.
And like the moon, the broad resplendent shield
Blaz'd with long rays, and gleam'd athwart the field.
Ibid. xix. 402.
No—could our swiftness o'er the winds prevail,
Or beat the pinions of the western gale,
Ibid. xix. 604.
All were in vain —
The humid sweat from ev'ry pore descends.
Ibid. xxiii. 829.
We close this article with a curious inquiry. An object, however ugly to the sight, is far from being so when represented by colours or by words. What is the cause of this difference? With respect to painting, the cause is obvious : a good picture, whatever the subject be, is agreeable by the pleasure we take in imitation ; and this pleasure overbalancing the disagreeableness of the subject, makes the picture upon the whole agreeable. With respect to the description of an ugly object, the cause follows. To connect individuals in the social state, no particular contributes more than language, by the power it possesses of an expeditious communication of thought, and a lively representation of transactions. But nature hath not
Narration. been satisfied to recommend language by its utility merely: independent of utility, it is made susceptible of many beauties, which are directly felt, without any intervening reflection. And this unfolds the mystery; for the pleasure of language is so great, as in a lively description to overbalance the disagreeableness of the image raised by it. This, however, is no encouragement to choose a disagreeable subject; for the pleasure is incomparably greater where the subject and the description are both of them agreeable.
The following description is upon the whole agreeable, though the subject described is in itself dismal:
Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquish'd, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded though immortal! but his doom
Rever'd him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes
That witness'd huge affliction and dismay:
Mix'd with obdurate pride and Redfast hate:
At once as far as angels ken he views
The dismal situation waste and wild:
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible
Serv'd only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all; but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
With ever-burning sulphur unconsum'd!
Such place eternal justice had prepar'd
For those rebellious. Paradise Lost, book 1. l. 50.
An unmanly depression of spirits in time of danger is not an agreeable sight; and yet a fine description or representation of it will be relished:
K. Richard. What must the king do now? must he submit?
The king shall do it: must he be depos'd?
The king shall be contented: must he lose
The name of king? o' God's name let it go;
I'll give my jewels for a set of beads;
My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage;
My gay apparel, for an almsman's gown;
My figur'd goblets, for a dish of wood;
My sceptre, for a palmer's walking-staff;
My subjects, for a pair of carved saints;
And my large kingdom, for a little grave;
A little, little grave,—an obscure grave.
Or I'll be bury'd in the king's highway;
Some way of common tread, where subjects feet
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head;
For on my heart they tread now, whilst I live;
And, bury'd once, why not upon my head?
Richard II. all 3. sc. 6.
Objects that strike terror in a spectator, have in poetry and painting a fine effect. The picture, by raising a slight emotion of terror, agitates the mind; and in that condition every beauty makes a deep impression. May not contrast heighten the pleasure, by opposing our present security to the danger of encountering the object represented?
The other shape,
If shape it might be call'd that shape had none
Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb:
Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd,
For each seem'd either; black it stood as night,
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell,
And shook a dreadful dart. Par. Lost, b. 2. l. 666.
Now storming fury rose,
And clamour such as heard in heaven till now
Was never: arms on clamour clashing bray'd
Horrible discord, and the madding wheels
Of brazen chariots rage: dire was the noise
Of conflict; overhead the dismal hiss
Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew,
And flying vaulted either host with fire,
So under fiery cope together rush'd
Both battles main, with ruinous assault
And inextinguishable rage: all heaven
Refounden, and had earth been then, all earth
Had to her centre shook. Ibid. book 6. l. 207.
Ghost. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotty and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. Hamlet, all 1. sc. 8.
Gratiano. Poor Desdemona! I'm glad thy father's dead:
Thy match was mortal to him; and pure grief
Shore his old thread in twain. Did he live now,
This fight would make him do a desp'rate turn:
Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation. Othello, all 5. sc. 8.
Objects of horror must be excepted from the foregoing theory; for no description, however lively, is sufficient to overbalance the disgust raised even by the idea of such objects. Every thing horrible ought therefore to be avoided in a description.