Comparative anatomy, is that branch of anatomy which considers the secondary objects, or the bodies of other animals; serving for the more accurate distinctions of several parts, and supplying the defect of human subjects.

It is otherwise called the anatomy of beasts, and sometimes zootomy; and stands in contradistinction to human anatomy, or that branch of the art which considers the human body the primary object of anatomy. See Anatomy.

Comparative degree, among grammarians, that between the positive and superlative degrees, expressive of any particular quality above or below the level of another.

Comparison, in a general sense, the consideration of the relation between two persons or things, when opposed to each other, by which we judge of their agreement or difference.

Comparison of Ideas, an act of the mind, whereby it compares its ideas one with another, in respect of extent, degree, time, place, or any other circumstances. See Idea.

Brutes seem not to have this faculty in any great degree: they have, probably, several ideas distinct enough; but cannot compare them farther than as to some sensible circumstances annexed to the objects themselves; the power of comparing general ideas, which we observe in men, we may probably conjecture they have not at all.

Comparison, in Grammar, the inflection of the comparative degree. See Grammar.

Comparison, in Rhetoric, is a figure whereby two things are considered with regard to some third, which is common to them both.

Instruction is the principal, but not the only end of comparison. It may be employed with success in putting a subject in a strong point of view. A lively idea is formed of a man's courage by likening it to that of a lion; and eloquence is exalted in our imagination by comparing it to a river overflowing its banks, and involving all in its impetuous course. The same effect is produced by contrast: a man in prosperity becomes more sensible of his happiness, by comparing his condition with that of a person in want of bread. Thus comparison is subservient to poetry as well as to philosophy.

Comparisons serve two purposes: when addressed to the understanding, their purpose is to instruct; when to the heart, their purpose is to please. Various means contribute to the latter: 1st, The suggesting some unusual resemblance or contrast; 2nd, The setting an object in the strongest light; 3rd, The associating an object with others that are agreeable; 4th, The elevating an object; and 5th, The depressing it. And that comparisons may give pleasure by these various means, will be made evident by examples which shall be given, after premising some general observations.

Objects of different senses cannot be compared together; for such objects are totally separated from each other, and have no circumstance in common to admit either resemblance or contrast. Objects of hearing may be compared together, as also of taste, of smell, and of touch; but the chief fund of comparison are objects of sight; because in writing or speaking, things can only be compared in idea, and the ideas of sight are more distinct and lively than those of any other sense.

When a nation emerging out of barbarity begins to think of the fine arts, the beauties of language cannot long lie concealed; and when discovered, they are generally, by the force of novelty, carried beyond all bounds of moderation. Thus, in the earliest poems of every nation, we find metaphors and similes founded on the slightest and most distant resemblances, which, losing their grace with their novelty, wear gradually out of repute; and now, by the improvement of taste, no metaphor nor simile is admitted into any polite composition but of the most striking kind. To illustrate this observation, a specimen shall be given afterward of such metaphors as we have been describing: with respect to similes take the following specimen:

"Behold, thou art fair, my love: thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead; thy teeth are like a flock of sheep from the washing; every one bearing twins: thy lips are like a thread of scarlet: thy neck like the tower of David built for an armoury, whereon hang a thousand shields of mighty men: thy two breasts like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies: thy eyes like the fish-pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim: thy nose like the tower of Lebanon, looking toward Damascus."

Song of Solomon

"Thou art like snow on the heath; thy hair like the milt of Cromla, when it curls on the rocks and shines to the beam of the west: thy breasts are..." "are like two smooth rocks seen from Branno of the streams: thy arms like two white pillars in the hall of the mighty Fingal."

Fingal.

It has no good effect to compare things by way of simile that are of the same kind; nor to contrast things of different kinds. The reason is given in the article above cited on the margin, and shall be here illustrated by examples. The first is a comparison built upon a resemblance so obvious as to make little or no impres- sion. Speaking of the fallen angels searching for mines of gold:

A numerous brigade hasten'd: as when bands Of pioneers with spade and pickaxe arm'd, Forerun the royal camp to trench a field Or cast a rampart.

Milton.

The next is of things contrasted that are of different kinds.

Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind Transform'd and weak? Hath Bolingbroke depos'd Thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart? The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw, And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage To be overpower'd: and wilt thou, pupil like, Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod, And fawn on rage with base humility?

Richard II. Act v. sc. i.

This comparison has scarce any force: a man and a lion are of different species, and therefore are proper subjects for a simile; but there is no such resemblance between them in general, as to produce any strong effect by contrasting particular attributes or circum- stances.

A third general observation is, That abstract terms can never be the subject of comparison, otherwise than by being personified. Shakespeare compares adversity to a toad, and slander to the bite of a crocodile; but in such comparisons these abstract terms must be ima- gined sensible beings.

To have a just notion of comparisons, they must be distinguished into two kinds; one common and fami- liar, as where a man is compared to a lion in courage, or to a horse in speed; the other more distant and re- fined, where two things that have in themselves no resemblance or opposition, are compared with respect to their effects. There is no resemblance between a flower-pot and a cheerful song; and yet they may be compared with respect to their effects, the emotions they produce in the mind being extremely similar. There is as little resemblance between fraternal concord and precious ointment; and yet observe how success- fully they are compared with respect to the impressions they make.

"Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity. It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon Aaron's beard, and descended to the skirts of his garment."

Psalm 133.

For illustrating this sort of comparison, we shall add some more examples:

Delightful is thy presence, O Fingal! it is like the sun on Cromla, when the hunter mourns his absence for a season, and sees him between the clouds.

Did not Offian hear a voice? or is it the sound of days that are no more? Often, like the evening sun, comes the memory of former times on my toul.

His countenance is settled from war; and is calm as the evening-beam, that from the cloud of the west looks on Cona's silent vale."

Fingal.

We now proceed to illustrate, by particular instances, the different means by which comparisons, whether of the one sort or the other, can afford pleasure; and, in the order above established, we shall begin with such instances as are agreeable, by suggesting some unusual resemblance or contrast.

Sweet are the uses of Adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in her head.

As you like it, Act ii. sc. i.

See, how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun; How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimm'd like a yonker prancing to his love.

Second Part Henry VI. Act ii. sc. i.

Thus they their doubtful consultations dark Ended, rejoicing in their matchless chief: As when from mountain tops, the dusky clouds Ascending, while the North-wind keeps, o'erpread Heav'n's cheerful face, the lowering element Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape, snow, and shower; If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet Extends his ev'ning-beam, the fields revive, The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings.

Paradise Lost, Book ii.

None of the foregoing similes tend to illustrate the principal subject, and therefore the chief pleasure they afford must arise from suggesting resemblances that are not obvious; for undoubtedly a beautiful subject intro- duced to form the simile affords a separate pleasure, which is felt in the similes mentioned, particularly in that cited from Milton.

The next effect of a comparison in the order men- tioned, is to place an object in a strong point of view; which effect is remarkable in the following similes.

As when two scales are charg'd with doubtful loads, From side to side the trembling balance nods, (While some laborious matron, just and poor, With nice exactness weighs her woolly store), Till pois'd aloft, the resting beam suspends Each equal weight; nor this nor that descends; So stood the war, till Hector's matchless might, With fates prevailing, turn'd the scale of fight, Fierce as a whirlwind up the wall he flies, And fires his host with loud repeated cries.

Iliad, Book xii. 521.

She never told her love; But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,

Z z

Feet Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought; And with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. *Twelfth Night*, Act ii. sc. 6.

"There is a joy in grief when peace dwells with the sorrowful. But they are wafted with mourn- ing, O daughter of Tofcar, and their days are few. They fall away like the flower on which the sun looks in his strength, after the mildew has passed over it, and its head is heavy with the drops of night." *Fingal*.

Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That frets and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. *Macbeth*, Act v. sc. 5.

O thou goodness, Thou divine nature! how thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys! they are as gentle As zephyrs blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough (Their royal blood inchauf'd) as the rudest wind, That by the top doth take the mountain-pine, And make him stoop to the vale. *Cymbeline*, Act iv. sc. 4.

"Why did not I pass away in secret, like the flower of the rock that lifts its fair head unseen, and throws its withered leaves on the blast?" *Fingal*.

As words convey but a faint and obscure notion of great numbers, a poet, to give a lively notion of the object he describes with regard to number, does well to compare it to what is familiar and commonly known. Thus Homer compares the Grecian army in point of number to a swarm of bees; in another passage he compares it to that profusion of leaves and flowers which appear in the spring, or of insects in a summer's evening: And Milton,

As when the potent rod Of Amram's son in Egypt's evil day Wav'd round the coast, up call'd a pitchy cloud Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind, That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hang Like night, and darken'd all the land of Nile; So numberless were those bad angels seen, Hovering on wing under the cope of hell, 'Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires. *Paradise Lost*, Book i.

Such comparisons have, by some writers, been con- demned for the looseness of the images introduced, but surely without reason; for, with regard to numbers, they put the principal subject in a strong light.

The foregoing comparisons operate by resemblance; others have the same effect by contrast.

York. I am the last of noble Edward's sons, Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first; In war, was never lion rag'd more fierce; In peace, was never gentle lamb more mild, Than was that young and princely gentleman. His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours,

But when he frown'd, it was against the French, And not against his friends. His noble hand Did win what he did spend; and spent not that Which his triumphant father's hand had won. His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood, But bloody with the enemies of his kin. Oh Richard, York is too far gone with grief, Or else he never would compare between. *Richard II.*, Act ii. sc. 3.

Milton has a peculiar talent in embellishing the prin- cipal subject, by associating it with others that are agreeable; which is the third end of a comparison. Similes of this kind have, beside, a separate effect: they diversify the narration by new images that are not strictly necessary to the comparison; they are short episodes, which, without drawing us from the principal subject, afford great delight by their beauty and variety.

He scarce had ceas'd, when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, mally, large, and round, Behind him cast: the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glafs the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fesfe. Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe. *Milton*, Book i.

Thus far these beyond Compare of mortal prowess, yet observ'd Their dread commander. He, above the rest, In shape and stature proudly eminent, Stood like a tower; his form had not yet lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess Of glory obscure'd: as when the sun新-risen Looks through the horizontal misty air Shorn of his beams; or, from behind the moon, In dim eclipse, disfavour'd twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs. *Milton*, Book i.

As when a vulture on Imaus bred, Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds, Dislodging from a region scarce of prey To gorge the flesh of lambs, or yearling kids, On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams, But in his way lights on the barren plains Of Sericana, where Chinee's drive With sails and wind their cany waggons light: So on this windy sea of land, the fiend Walk'd up and down alone, bent on his prey. *Milton*, Book iii.

Next of comparisons that aggrandize or elevate. These affect us more than any other fort; the reason of which will be evident from the following instances:

As when a flame the winding valley fills, And runs on crackling shrubs between the hills, Then o'er the stubble up the mountain flies, Fires the high woods, and blazes to the skies, This way and that, the spreading torrent roars; So sweeps the hero through the wafted shores. Around him wide, immense destruction pours, And earth is delug'd with the sanguine show'rs.

Iliad. xx. 569.

Methinks, King Richard and myself should meet With no less terror than the elements Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock, At meeting, tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.

Richard II. Act iii. sc. 5.

"As rusheth a foamy stream from the dark shady "sleep of Cromla, when thunder is rolling above, and "dark brown night rests on the hill; so fierce, so vast, "so terrible, rush forward the sons of Erin. The "chief, like a whale of ocean followed by all its bill "lows, pours valour forth as a stream, rolling its might "along the shore."

Fingal, Book i.

"As roll a thousand waves to a rock, so Swaran's "hoof came on; as meets a rock a thousand waves, so "Inisfail met Swaran."

Ibid.

The last article mentioned, is that of lessening or depreying a hated or disagreeable object; which is ef- fectually done by resembling it to any thing low or des- picable.

Thus Milton, in his description of the rout of the rebel-angels, happily expresses their terror and dismay in the following simile:

As a herd Of goats or timorous flock together throng'd, Drove them before him thunder-struck, pursu'd With terrors and with furies to the bounds And crystal wall of heav'n, which op'ning wide, Roll'd inward, and a spacious gap disclos'd Into the watery deep; the monstrous sight Struck them with horror backward, but far worse Urg'd them behind; headlong themselves they threw Down from the verge of heav'n.

Milton, Book vi.

By this time the different purposes of comparison, and the various impressions it makes on the mind, are sufficiently illustrated by proper examples. This was an easy work. It is more difficult to lay down rules about the propriety or impropriety of comparisons; in what circumstances they may be introduced, and in what circumstances they are out of place. It is evi- dent, that a comparison is not proper upon every occa- sion; a man in his cool and sedate moments is not disposed to poetical flights, nor to sacrifice truth and reality to the delusive operations of the imagination; far less is he so disposed when oppressed with care, or interested in some important transaction that occu- pies him totally. On the other hand it is observed, that a man when elevated or animated by any pas- sion, is disposed to elevate or animate all his subjects; he avoids familiar names, exalts objects by circumlo- cution and metaphor, and gives even life and voluntary action to inanimate beings. In this warmth of mind, the highest poetical flights are indulged, and the boldest similes and metaphors relished. But without soaring so high, the mind is frequently in a tone to relish chaste and moderate ornament; such as com- parisons that set the principal object in a strong point of view, or that embellish and diversify the narration,

In general, when by any animating passion, whether Com- pare- pleasant or painful, an impulse is given to the imagi- nation; we are in that condition disposed to every sort of figurative expression, and in particular to com- parisons. This in a great measure is evident from the comparisons already mentioned; and shall be fur- ther illustrated by other instances. Love, for example, in its infancy, rousing the imagination, prompts the heart to display itself in figurative language, and in similes.

Troilus. Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, What Cressida is, what Pandar, and what we? Her bed is India, there she lies a pearl; Between our Ilium and where she resides, Let it be call'd the wild and wand'ring flood; Ourself the merchant, and this failing Pandar Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

Troilus and Cressida, Act i. sc. 1.

Again:

Come, gentle night; come, loving black-brow'd night! Give me my Romeo: and when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heav'n so fine, That all the world shall be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun.

Romeo and Juliet, Act iii. sc. 4.

But it will be a better illustration of the present head, to give examples where comparisons are impro- perly introduced. Similes are not the language of a man in his ordinary state of mind, dispatching his daily and usual work: for that reason the following speech of a gardener to his servant is extremely im- proper:

Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricots, Which, like unruly children, make their sire Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: Give some supportances to the bending twigs. Go thou, and, like an executioner, Cut off the heads of two fast growing sprays, That look too lofty in our commonwealth: All must be even in our government.

Richard II. Act iii. sc. 7.

The fertility of Shakespeare's vein betrays him fre- quently into this error.

Rooted grief, deep anguish, terror, remorse, de- spair, and all the feverish disturbing passions, are decla- red enemies, perhaps not to figurative language in gen- eral, but undoubtedly to the pomp and solemnity of comparison. Upon this account, the simile pronounced by young Rutland, under terror of death from an inveterate enemy, and praying mercy, is unnatural:

So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws; And so he walks insulting o'er his prey, And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, And not with such a cruel threat'ning look.

Third Part Henry VI. Act i. sc. 5.

A man spent and dispirited after losing a battle is not disposed to heighten or illustrate his discourse by similes. York. With this we charg'd again; but out! alas, We hag'd again; as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide, And spend her strength with over-matching waves. Ah! hark, the fatal followers do pursue, And I am faint and cannot fly their fury. The bands are number'd that make up my life; Here must I stay, and here my life must end.

Third Part Henry VI. Act i. sc. 6.

Similes thus unreasonably introduced are finely ridiculed in the Rehearsal.

"Bayer. Now here he must make a simile. "Smith. Where's the necessity of that, Mr Bayer? "Bayer. Because she's surprized; that's a general rule; you must ever make a simile when you are surprized; 'tis a new way of writing."

A comparison is not always faultless, even where it is properly introduced. A comparison, like other human productions, may fall short of its end; of which defect instances are not rare even among good writers; and to complete the present subject, it will be necessary to make some observations upon such faulty comparisons. Nothing can be more erroneous than to institute a comparison too faint: a distant resemblance or contrast satigues the mind with its obscurity, instead of amusing it; and tends not to fulfil any one end of a comparison. The following similes seem to labour under this defect.

K. Rich. Give me the crown.—Here, cousin, seize the crown, Here on this side, my hand; on that side, thine. Now is this golden crown like a deep well, That owes two buckets, filling one another; The emptier ever dancing in the air, The other down, unseen, and full of water; That bucket down, and full of tears, am I, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.

Richard II. Act iv. sc. 3.

K. John Oh! cousin, thou art come to set mine eye; The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burnt; And all the shrouds wherewith my life should fail, Are turned to one thread, one little hair: My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered.

K. John, Act iv. sc. 10.

York. My uncles both are slain in rescuing me: And all my followers to the eager foe Turn back, and fly like ships before the wind; Or lambs pursued by hunger starved wolves.

Third Part Henry VI. Act i. sc. 6.

The latter of the two similes is good: the former, because of the faintness of the resemblance, produces no good effect, and crowds the narration with an useless image.

In an epic poem, or in any elevated subject, a writer ought to avoid raising a simile upon a low image, which never fails to bring down the principal subject. In general, it is a rule, that a grand object ought never to be resembled to one that is diminutive, however delicate the resemblance may be: for it is the peculiar character of a grand object to fix the attention, and swell the mind; in which state, it is disagreeable to contract the mind to a minute object, however elegant. The resembling an object to one that is greater, has, on the contrary, a good effect, by raising or swelling the mind; for one passes with satisfaction from a small to a great object; but cannot be drawn down, without reluctance, from great to small. Hence the following similes are faulty.

Meanwhile the troops beneath Patroclus' care, Invade the Trojans, and commence the war. As wasps, provok'd by children in their play, Pour from their mansions by the broad highway, In swarms the guiltless traveller engage, Whet all their flings, and call forth all their rage; All rise in arms, and with a general cry Assert their waxen domes and buzzing progeny: Thus from their tents the fervent legion swarms, So loud their clamours, and so keen their arms.

Iliad, xvi. 312.

So burns the vengeful hornet (foul all o'er) Repuls'd in vain, and thirsty still of gore; (Bold son of air and heat) on angry wings Untam'd, untir'd he turns, attacks, and stings, Fir'd with like ardour, fierce Atrides flew, And sent his soul with every lance he threw.

Iliad, xvii. 642.

An error opposite to the former, is the introducing a resembling image, so elevated or great as to bear no proportion to the principal subject. Their remarkable disparity, being the most striking circumstance, seizes the mind, and never fails to depress the principal subject by contrast, instead of raising it by resemblance: and if the disparity be exceeding great, the simile takes on an air of burlesque: nothing being more ridiculous than to force an object out of its proper rank in nature, by equalling it with one greatly superior or greatly inferior. This will be evident from the following comparison.

Loud as a bull makes hill and valley ring, So roar'd the lock when it releas'd the spring.

Odyssey, xxii. 51.

Such a simile upon the simplest of all actions, that of opening a lock, is pure burlesque.

A writer of delicacy will avoid drawing his comparisons from any image that is nauseous, ugly, or remarkably disagreeable; for however strong the resemblance may be, more will be lost than gained by such comparison. Therefore we cannot help condemning, though with some reluctancy, the following simile, or rather metaphor.

O thou fond many! with what loud applause Didst thou beat heaven with blest Bolingbroke Before he was what thou wouldst have him be? And now being trimm'd up in thine own desires, Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. And so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge Thy gluton bosom of the royal Richard, And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, And howl'dst to find it.

Second Part Henry IV. Act i. sc. 6. The strongest objection that can lie against a comparison is, that it consists in words only, not in sense. Such false coin, or bastard-wit, does extremely well in burlesque; but it is far below the dignity of the epic, or of any serious composition.

The noble sister of Poplicola, The moon of Rome; chastest as the icicle That's curdled by the frost from purest snow, And hangs on Dian's temple.

Coriolanus, Act v. sc. 3.

There is evidently no resemblance between an icicle and a woman, chaste or unchaste: but chastity is cold in a metaphorical sense; and an icicle is cold in a proper sense; and this verbal resemblance, in the hurry and glow of composing, has been thought a sufficient foundation for the simile. Such phantom similes are mere witticisms, which ought to have no quarter, except where purposely introduced to provoke laughter. Lucian, in his dissertation upon history, talking of a certain author, makes the following comparison, which is verbal merely.

"This author's descriptions are so cold, that they surpass the Caspian snow, and all the ice of the north."

But for their spirits and souls This word rebellion had froze them up As fish are in a pond.

Second Part Henry IV. Act i. sc. 3.

Pope has several similes of the same stamp.

And hence one master passion in the breast, Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest.

Epistle ii. 131.

And again talking of this same ruling or master passion;

Nature its mother, habit is its nurse: Wit, spirit, faculties, but make it worse; Reason itself but gives it edge and pow'r; As heaven's blest beam turns vinegar more sour.

Ibid. 145.

Where the subject is burlesque or ludicrous, such similes are far from being improper. Horace says pleasantly,

Quamquam tu levior cortice.

Lib. iii. od. 9.

And Shakespeare.

In breaking oaths he's stronger than Hercules.

And this leads to observe, that besides the foregoing comparisons, which are all serious, there is a species, the end and purpose of which is to excite gaiety or mirth. Take the following examples.

Falstaff speaking to his page:

"I do here walk before thee, like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one."

Second Part Henry IV. Act i. sc. 10.

"I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a horse-stealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet, or a worm-eaten nut."

As you like it, Act iii. sc. 10.

This sword a dagger had his page, That was but little for his age; And therefore waited on him so, As dwarfs upon knight-errants do.

Hudibras, canto i.

"Books, like men, their authors, have but one way of coming into the world; but there are ten thousand to go out of it, and return no more."

Tale of a Tub.

"The most accomplished way of using books at present is, to serve them as some do lords, learn their titles, and then brag of their acquaintance."

Ibid.

"He does not consider, that sincerity in love is as much out of fashion as sweet snuff; nobody takes it now."

Careless Husband.