DRYDEN, All for Love, act v.
Having discussed what observations occurred upon the thoughts or things expressed, we proceed to what more peculiarly concerns the language or verbal dress. As words are intimately connected with the ideas they 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 causæ est, merito quin illis Jupiter ambas
Iratus buccas inflet, neque se fore posset
Tam facilem dicat, votis ut prebeat aurem?
Sat. i. 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, linking 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 fous le ciel brûlant des plus noirs Africains.
Bayonet, act iii. 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.
Phœdra, act i. sc. 3.
Assueris. Ce mortel, qui montra tant de zèle pour moi, Vit-il encore ?
Asaph. — Il voit l'astre qui vous éclaire.
Esther, act ii. sc. 3.
Oui, c'est Agamemnon, c'est ton roi qui t'éveille;
Viens, reconnois la voix qui frappe ton oreille.
Iphigénie.
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, act i. sc. 2.
In the inner room
I spy a winking lamp, that weakly strikes
The ambient air, scarce kindling into light.
SOUTERNE, Fate of Capua, act iii.
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 des appareils si divers, et pour des causes si différentes, &c."
Page. 6.
"Grande reine, je satisfais à vos plus tendres désirs, quand je célèbre ce monarque; et son cœur qui n'a jamais vécu que pour lui, s'éveille, tout poudre qu'il est, et devient sensible, même sous ce drap mortuaire, au nom d'un époux si cher."
Page. 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,
Narration. "Calypso, qui avoit été jusq' à ce moment immobile et transportée de plaisir en écoutant les aventures de Télémaque, l'interrompit pour lui faire prendre quelque repos. Il est tems, lui dit-elle, que vous allez 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. 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, 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 he lies open to the same censure; but the force of authority is great:
At regina gravi jam dudum faucia cura,
Vulnus alit venis, et cœco carpitur igni.
Multa viri virtus animo, multusque recurvat
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 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 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.—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 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 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:
Narration. My waking thought admits no balmy rest,
Nor the sweet bliss of soft oblivion share;
But watchful woe 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 she ow'd,
And put it to the foil. But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best. Tempest, act iii. sc. 1.
Orlando. Whate'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 eyelids wip'd a tear,
And known 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 men's 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 ministr'd.
As you like it.
With thee conversing I forget all time;
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
4 I 2 Sweet
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
Glit'ring 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,
Glit'ring 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 iv. 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 thresher 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 lifted 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 lifted 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?" Ezekiel 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 prelia, et saepius in modum latrocinii: per faltus, per paludes; ut cuique fors aut virtus: temere, proviso, ob iram, ob praedam, iussu, et aliquando ignaris ducibus." Annal. lib. xii. § 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 by a beauty, tautology must be a blemish; and yet writers, fettered by verse,
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 verification 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. 5.
Strength and omnipotence invest thy throne.
Ibid. 576.
So silent fountains, from a rock's tall head,
In fable 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 resurgent 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,
All were in vain— Ibid. xix. 604.
The humid sweat from every 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 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
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded though immortal! but his doom
Reserv'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 steadfast 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 i. 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 fawns;
And my large kingdom, for a little grave;
A little, little, grave,—an obscure grave.
Or I'll be buried 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. act iii. 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, book ii. 666.
Now storming fury rose,
And clamour such as heard in heaven till now
Was never: arms on armour 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 unextinguishable rage: all heaven
Resounded, and had earth been then, all earth
Had to her centre shook. Ibid., book vi. 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, act i. sc. 8.
Gratianus. 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 desperate turn:
Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation. Othello, act v. 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.