[]ELEMENTS OF CRITICISM.

SECT. I. Beauty of language with reſpect to ſound.

I Propoſe to handle this ſubject in the fol⯑lowing order, which appears the moſt natural. The ſounds of the different letters come firſt. Next, theſe ſounds as united in ſyllables. Third, ſyllables united in words. Fourth, words united in a period. And in the laſt place, periods united in a diſcourſe.

With reſpect to the firſt article, every vowel is ſounded by a ſingle expiration of air from the wind-pipe through the cavity of the mouth; and by varying this cavity, the different vowels are ſounded. The air in paſſing through cavities differing in ſize, produceth various ſounds, ſome high or ſharp, ſome low or flat. A ſmall cavity occaſions a high ſound, a large cavity a low ſound. The five vowels accordingly, pro⯑nounced with the ſame extenſion of the [239] wind-pipe, but with different openings of the mouth, form a regular ſeries of ſounds, deſcending from high to low, in the follow⯑ing order, i, e, a ^*, o, u. Each of theſe ſounds is agreeable to the ear. And if it be inquired which of them is the moſt agree⯑able, it is perhaps the ſafeſt ſide to hold, that there is no univerſal preference of any one before the reſt. Probably thoſe vowels which are fartheſt removed from the ex⯑tremes, will generally be the moſt reliſhed. This is all I have to remark upon the firſt article. For conſonants being letters which of themſelves have no ſound, have no other power but to form articulate ſounds in con⯑junction with vowels; and every ſuch arti⯑culate ſound being a ſyllable, conſonants come naturally under the ſecond article. To which therefore we proceed.

All conſonants are pronounced with a leſs cavity than any of the vowels; and con⯑ſequently they contribute to form a ſound ſtill more ſharp than the ſharpeſt vowel pronounced ſingle. Hence it follows, that [240] every articulate ſound into which a conſonant enters, muſt neceſſarily be double, though pronounced with one expiration of air, or with one breath as commonly expreſſed. The reaſon is, that though two ſounds readily unite; yet where they differ in tone, both of them muſt be heard if neither of them be ſuppreſſed. For the ſame reaſon, every ſyllable muſt be compoſed of as many ſounds as there are letters, ſuppoſing every letter to be diſtinctly pronounced.

We next inquire, how far articulate ſounds into which conſonants enter, are agreeable to the ear. With reſpect to this point, there is a noted obſervation, that all ſounds of dif⯑ficult pronunciation are to the ear harſh in proportion. Few tongues are ſo poliſhed as entirely to have rejected ſounds that are pronounced with difficulty; and ſuch ſounds muſt in ſome meaſure be diſagreeable. But with reſpect to agreeable ſounds, it appears, that a double ſound is always more agree⯑able than a ſingle ſound. Every one who has an ear muſt be ſenſible, that the diph⯑thongs oi or ai are more agreeable than any of theſe vowels pronounced ſingly. [241] And the ſame holds where a conſonant en⯑ters into the double ſound. The ſylla⯑ble le has a more agreeable ſound than the vowel e or than any vowel. And in ſupport of experience, a ſatisfactory argu⯑ment may be drawn from the wiſdom of Providence. Speech is beſtowed upon man, to qualify him for ſociety. The proviſion he hath of articulate ſounds, is proportioned to the uſe he hath for them. But if ſounds that are agreeable ſingly were not alſo agree⯑able in conjunction, the neceſſity of a pain⯑ful ſelection would render language intricate and difficult to be attained in any perfection. And this ſelection, at the ſame time, would tend to abridge the number of uſeful ſounds, ſo as perhaps not to leave ſufficient for an⯑ſwering the different ends of language.

In this view, the harmony of pronuncia⯑tion differs widely from that of muſic pro⯑perly ſo called. In the latter are diſcovered many ſounds ſingly agreeable, that in con⯑junction are extremely diſagreeable; none but what are called concordant ſounds having a good effect in conjunction. In the for⯑mer, all ſounds ſingly agreeable are in con⯑junction [242] concordant; and ought to be, in order to fulfil the purpoſes of language.

Having diſcuſſed ſyllables, we proceed to words; which make a third article. Mo⯑noſyllables belong to the former head. Po⯑lyſyllables open a different ſcene. In a cur⯑ſory view, one will readily imagine, that the effect a word hath upon the ear, muſt depend entirely upon the agreeableneſs or diſagreeableneſs of its component ſyllables. In part it doth; but not entirely; for we muſt alſo take under conſideration the effect that a number of ſyllables compoſing a word have in ſucceſſion. In the firſt place, ſylla⯑bles in immediate ſucceſſion, pronounced, each of them, with the ſame or nearly the ſame aperture of the mouth, produce a weak and imperfect ſound; witneſs the French words détêté (deteſted), dit-il (ſays he), patetique (pathetic). On the other hand, a ſyllable of the greateſt aperture ſucceed⯑ing one of the ſmalleſt, or the oppoſite, makes a ſucceſſion, which, becauſe of its remarkable diſagreeableneſs, is diſtinguiſh⯑ed by a proper name, viz. hiatus. The moſt agreeable ſucceſſion, is, where the [243] cavity is increaſed and diminiſhed alternate⯑ly by moderate intervals. Secondly, words conſiſting wholly of ſyllables pronounced ſlow or of ſyllables pronounced quick, com⯑monly called long and ſhort ſyllables, have little melody in them. Witneſs the words petitioner, fruiterer, dizzineſs. On the o⯑ther hand, the intermixture of long and ſhort ſyllables is remarkably agreeable; for example, degree, repent, wonderful, altitude, rapidity, independent, impetuoſity. The cauſe will be explained afterward, in treat⯑ing of verſification.

Diſtinguiſhable from the beauties above mentioned, there is a beauty of ſome words which ariſes from their ſignification. When the emotion raiſed by the length or ſhortneſs, the roughneſs or ſmoothneſs, of the ſound, reſembles in any degree what is raiſed by the ſenſe, we feel a very remarkable plea⯑ſure. But this ſubject belongs to the third ſection.

The foregoing obſervations afford a ſtan⯑dard to every nation, for eſtimating, pretty accurately, the comparative merit of the words that enter into their own language. [244] And though at firſt view they may be thought equally uſeful for eſtimating the comparative merit of different languages; yet this holds not in fact, becauſe no per⯑ſon can readily be found who is ſufficiently qualified to apply the ſtandard. What I mean is, that different nations judge differ⯑ently of the harſhneſs or ſmoothneſs of ar⯑ticulate ſounds: a ſound, harſh and diſa⯑greeable to an Italian, may be abundantly ſmooth to a northern ear. Where are we to find a judge to determine this contro⯑verſy? and ſuppoſing a judge, upon what principle is his deciſion to be founded? The caſe here is preciſely the ſame as in behaviour and manners. Plain-dealing and ſincerity, liberty in words and actions, form the character of one people. Polite⯑neſs, reſerve, and a total diſguiſe of every ſentiment that can give offence, form the character of another people. To each the manners of the other are diſagreeable. An effeminate mind cannot bear the leaſt of that roughneſs and ſeverity, which is generally eſteemed manly when exerted upon proper occaſions. Neither can an effeminate ear [245] bear the leaſt harſhneſs in words that are deemed nervous and ſounding by thoſe ac⯑cuſtomed to a rougher tone of language. Muſt we then relinquiſh all thoughts of comparing languages in the point of rough⯑neſs and ſmoothneſs, as a fruitleſs inquiry? Not altogether ſo; for we may proceed a certain length, though without hope of an ultimate deciſion. A language with difficulty pronounced even by natives, muſt yield the preference to a ſmoother lan⯑guage. Again, ſuppoſing two languages pro⯑nounced with equal facility by natives, the preference, in my judgement, ought to be in favour of the rougher language; provided it be alſo ſtored with a competent ſhare of more mellow ſounds. This will be evident from attending to the different effects that articu⯑late ſound hath upon the mind. A ſmooth gliding ſound is agreeable, by ſmoothing the mind and lulling it to reſt. A rough bold ſound, on the contrary, animates the mind. The effort perceived in pronoun⯑cing, is communicated to the hearers: they feel in their own minds a ſimilar effort, [246] which rouſes their attention and diſpo⯑ſes them to action. I muſt add another conſideration. The agreeableneſs of con⯑traſt in the rougher language, for which the great variety of ſounds gives ample op⯑portunity, muſt, even in an effeminate ear, prevail over the more uniform ſounds of the ſmoother language^*. This appears to me all that can be ſafely determined upon the preſent point. With reſpect to the o⯑ther circumſtances that conſtitute the beau⯑ty of words, the ſtandard above mentioned is infallible when apply'd to foreign langua⯑ges as well as to our own. For every man, whatever be his mother-tongue, is equally capable to judge of the length or ſhortneſs of words, of the alternate opening and cloſing of the mouth in ſpeaking, and of the relation which the ſound bears to the ſenſe. In theſe particulars, the judgement is ſuſceptible of no prejudice from cuſtom, at leaſt of no invincible prejudice.

[247] That the Engliſh tongue, originally harſh, is at preſent much ſoftened by drop⯑ing in the pronunciation many redundant conſonants, is undoubtedly true. That it is not capable of being farther mellowed, without ſuffering in its force and energy, will ſcarce be thought by any one who poſſeſſes an ear. And yet ſuch in Britain is the propenſity for diſpatch, that over⯑looking the majeſty of words compoſed of many ſyllables aptly connected, the pre⯑vailing taſte is, to ſhorten words, even at the expence of making them diſagreeable to the ear and harſh in the pronunciation. But I have no occaſion to inſiſt upon this article, being prevented by an excellent writer, who poſſeſſed, if any man ever did, the true genius of the Engliſh tongue^*. I cannot however forbear urging one ob⯑ſervation borrowed from that author. Seve⯑ral tenſes of our verbs are formed by add⯑ing the final ſyllable ed, which, being a weak ſound, has remarkably the worſe ef⯑fect [248] by poſſeſſing the moſt conſpicuous place in the word. Upon that account, the vowel is in common ſpeech generally ſuppreſſed, and the conſonant is added to the foregoing ſyllable. Hence the follow⯑ing rugged ſounds, drudg'd, diſturb'd, re⯑buk'd, fledg'd. It is ſtill leſs excuſeable to follow this practice in writing; for the hur⯑ry of ſpeaking may excuſe what is altoge⯑ther improper in a compoſition of any va⯑lue. The ſyllable ed, it is true, makes but a poor figure at the end of a word: but we ought to ſubmit to that defect, rather than multiply the number of harſh words, which, after all that has been done, bear an over⯑proportion in our tongue. The author a⯑bove mentioned, by ſhowing a good ex⯑ample, did all in his power to reſtore that ſyllable; and he well deſerves to be imi⯑tated. Some exceptions however I would make. A word which ſignifies labour, or any thing harſh or rugged, ought not to be ſmooth. Therefore forc'd, with an apo⯑ſtrophe, is better than forced, without it. Another exception is, where the penult ſyllable ends with a vowel. In that caſe [249] the final ſyllable ed may be apoſtrophized without making the word harſh. Examples, betray'd, carry'd, deſtroy'd, employ'd.

The article next in order, is to conſider the muſic of words as united in a period. And as the arrangement of words in ſuc⯑ceſſion ſo as to afford the greateſt pleaſure to the ear, depends on principles pretty re⯑mote from common view, it will be neceſ⯑ſary to premiſe ſome general obſervations upon the effect that a number of objects have upon the mind when they are placed in an increaſing or decreaſing ſeries. The effect of ſuch a ſeries will be very different, according as reſemblance or contraſt pre⯑vails. Where the members of a ſeries vary by ſmall differences, reſemblance pre⯑vails; which, in aſcending, makes us con⯑ceive the ſecond object of no greater ſize than the firſt, the third of no greater ſize than the ſecond, and ſo of the reſt. This diminiſheth in appearance the ſize of the whole. Again, when beginning at the largeſt object, we proceed gradually to the leaſt, reſemblance makes us imagine the ſecond as large as the firſt, and the third as [250] large as the ſecond; which in appearance magnifies every object of the ſeries except the firſt. On the other hand, in a ſeries varying by great differences, where contraſt prevails, the effects are directly oppoſite. A large object ſucceeding a ſmall one of the ſame kind, appears by the oppoſition lar⯑ger than uſual: and a ſmall object, for the ſame reaſon, ſucceeding one that is large, appears leſs than uſual^*. Hence a remarkable pleaſure in viewing a ſeries aſcending by large intervals; directly op⯑poſite to what we feel when the intervals are ſmall. Beginning at the ſmalleſt object of a ſeries where contraſt prevails, this object has the ſame effect upon the mind as if it ſtood ſingle without making a part of the ſeries. But this is not the caſe of the ſecond object, which by means of contraſt makes a much greater figure than when viewed ſingly and apart; and the ſame effect is perceived in aſcending progreſſively, till we arrive at the laſt object. The direct contrary effect is produced in deſcending; for in this direc⯑tion, [251] every object, except the firſt, makes a leſs figure than when viewed ſeparately and independent of the ſeries. We may then lay down as a maxim, which will hold in the compoſition of language as well as of other ſubjects, That a ſtrong impulſe ſuc⯑ceeding a weak, makes a double impreſ⯑ſion on the mind; and that a weak impulſe ſucceeding a ſtrong, makes ſcarce any im⯑preſſion.

After eſtabliſhing this maxim, we can be at no loſs about its application to the ſub⯑ject in hand. The following rule is laid down by Diomedes^*. ‘"In verbis obſer⯑vandum eſt, ne a majoribus ad minora deſcendat oratio; melius enim dicitur, Vir eſt optimus, quam, Vir optimus eſt."’ This rule is applicable not only to ſingle words, but equally to entire members of a period, which, according to our author's expreſſion, ought not more than ſingle words to proceed from the greater to the leſs, but from the leſs to the greater. In arranging the members of a period, on wri⯑ter [252] equals Cicero. The beauty of the fol⯑lowing examples out of many, will not ſuf⯑fer me to ſlur them over by a reference.

Again:

Again:

This order of words or members gradually increaſing in length, may, ſo far as con⯑cerns the pleaſure of ſound ſingly, be de⯑nominated a climax in ſound.

[253] The laſt article is the muſic of periods as united in a diſcourſe; which ſhall be diſ⯑patched in a very few words. By no other human means is it poſſible to preſent to the mind, ſuch a number of objects and in ſo ſwift a ſucceſſion, as by ſpeaking or wri⯑ting. And for that reaſon, variety ought more to be ſtudied in theſe, than in any o⯑ther ſort of compoſition. Hence a rule re⯑garding the arrangement of the members of different periods with relation to each o⯑ther, That to avoid a tedious uniformity of ſound and cadence, the arrangement, the cadence, and the length of theſe members, ought to be diverſified as much as poſſible. And if the members of different periods be ſufficiently diverſified, the periods them⯑ſelves will be equally ſo.

SECT. II. Beauty of language with reſpect to ſignifi⯑cation.

IT is well ſaid by a noted writer^*, ‘"That by means of ſpeech we can divert our ſorrows, mingle our mirth, impart our ſecrets, communicate our counſels, and make mutual compacts and agreements to ſupply and aſſiſt each other."’ Conſidering ſpeech as contributing thus to ſo many good purpoſes, it follows, that the chuſing words which have an accurate meaning, and tend to convey clear and diſtinct ideas, muſt be one of its capital beauties. This cauſe of beauty, is too extenſive to be handled as a branch of any other ſubject. To aſcertain with accuracy even the proper meaning of words, not to talk of their figurative power, would require a large volume; an uſeful work indeed; but not to be attempted with⯑out a large ſtock of time, ſtudy, and reflec⯑tion. [255] This branch therefore of the ſubject I muſt humbly decline. Nor do I propoſe to exhauſt all the other beauties of language with reſpect to ſignification. The reader, in a work like the preſent, cannot fairly expect more than a ſlight ſketch of thoſe that make the greateſt figure. This is a taſk which I attempt the more willingly, as it appears to be connected with ſome prin⯑ciples in human nature; and the rules I ſhall have occaſion to lay down, will, if I judge aright, be agreeable illuſtrations of theſe principles. Every ſubject muſt be of importance that tends in any meaſure to un⯑fold the human heart; for what other ſcience is more worthy of human beings?

The preſent ſubject is ſo extenſive, that, to prevent confuſion, it muſt be divided in⯑to parts; and what follows ſuggeſts a di⯑viſion into two parts. In every period, two things are to be regarded, equally capital; firſt, the words of which the period is com⯑poſed; next, the arrangement of theſe words. The former reſemble the ſtones that com⯑poſe a building; and the latter reſembles the order in which theſe ſtones are placed. [256] Hence the beauty of language with reſpect to its meaning, may not improperly be diſ⯑tinguiſhed into two kinds. The firſt con⯑ſiſts in a right choice of words or materials for conſtructing the period; and the other conſiſts in a due arrangement of theſe words or materials. I ſhall begin with rules that direct us to a right choice of words, and then proceed to rules that concern their ar⯑rangement.

And with reſpect to the former, commu⯑nication of thought being the principal end of language, it is a rule, That perſpicuity ought not to be ſacrificed to any other beauty whatever. If it ſhould be doubted whether perſpicuity be a poſitive beauty, it cannot be doubted, that the want of it is the greateſt defect. Nothing therefore in the ſtructure of language ought more to be ſtudied, than to prevent all obſcurity in the expreſſion; for to have no meaning, is but one degree worſe than to expreſs it ſo as not to be un⯑derſtood. Want of perſpicuity from a wrong arrangement, belongs to the next branch. I ſhall give a few examples where the obſcurity ariſes from a wrong choice of [257] words; and as this defect is ſo common in ordinary writers as to make examples from them unneceſſary, I confine myſelf to the moſt celebrated authors.

Livy, ſpeaking of a rout after a battle,

There is want of neatneſs even in an am⯑biguity ſo ſlight as that is which ariſes from the conſtruction merely; as where the pe⯑riod commences with a member which is conceived to be in the nominative caſe, and which afterward is found to be in the accu⯑ſative. Example: ‘"Some emotions more peculiarly connected with the fine arts, I propoſe to handle in ſeparate chapters^*."’ Better thus: ‘"Some emotions more pecu⯑liarly connected with the fine arts, are propoſed to be handled in ſeparate chap⯑ters."’

The rule next in order, becauſe next in importance, is, That the language ought to correſpond to the ſubject. Grand or heroic actions or ſentiments require elevated lan⯑guage: tender ſentiments ought to be ex⯑preſſed [259] in words ſoft and flowing; and plain language devoid of ornament, is adapted to ſubjects grave and didactic. Language may be conſidered as the dreſs of thought; and where the one is not ſuited to the other, we are ſenſible of incongruity, in the ſame man⯑ner as where a judge is dreſſed like a fop, or a peaſant like a man of quality. The in⯑timate connection that words have with their meaning, requires that both be in the ſame tone. Or, to expreſs the thing more plainly, the impreſſion made by the words ought as nearly as poſſible to reſemble the impreſſion made by the thought. The ſi⯑milar emotions mix ſweetly in the mind, and augment the pleaſure^*. On the other hand, where the impreſſions made by the thought and the words are diſſimilar, they are forc'd into a ſort of unnatural union, which is diſagreeable^†.

In the preceding chapter, concerning the language of paſſion, I had occaſion to give many examples of deviations from this [260] rule with regard to the manner of expreſſ⯑ing paſſions and their ſentiments. But as the rule concerns the manner of expreſſing thoughts and ideas of all kinds, it has an extenſive influence in directing us to the choice of proper materials. In that view it muſt be branched out into ſeveral particu⯑lars. And I muſt obſerve, in the firſt place, that to write with elegance, it is not ſufficient to expreſs barely the conjunction or disjunction of the members of the thought. It is a beauty to find a ſimilar conjunction or disjunction in the words. This may be illuſtrated by a familiar exam⯑ple. When we have occaſion to mention the intimate connection that the ſoul has with the body, the expreſſion ought to be the ſoul and body; becauſe the particle the, re⯑lative to both, makes a connection in the ex⯑preſſion, which reſembles in ſome degree the connection in the thought. But when the ſoul is diſtinguiſhed from the body, it is better to ſay the ſoul and the body, becauſe the disjunction in the words reſembles the disjunction in the thought. In the follow⯑ing [261] examples the connection in the thought is happily imitated in the expreſſion. ‘Conſtituit agmen; et expedire tela animoſque, equitibus juſſis, &c. Livy, l. 38. § 25.’ Again: ‘Quum ex paucis quotidie aliqui eorum caderent aut vulnerarentur, et qui ſuperarent, feſſi et cor⯑poribus et animis eſſent, &c. Livy, l. 38. § 29.’

The following paſſage of Tacitus appears to me not ſo happy. It approaches to wit by connecting in the foregoing manner things but ſlightly related, which is not altogether ſuitable to the dignity or gravity of hiſtory. ‘Germania omnis a Galliis, Rhaetiiſque, et Pan⯑noniis, Rheno et Danubio fluminibus; a Sarmatis Daciſque, mutuo metu aut montibus ſeparatur. De moribus Germanorum.’ [262] I am more doubtful about this other in⯑ſtance:

I ſhall add ſome other examples where the oppoſition in the thought is imitated in the words; an imitation that is diſtinguiſhed by the name of antitheſis.

Speaking of Coriolanus ſoliciting the peo⯑ple to be made conſul:

‘He hath cool'd my friends and heated mine ene⯑mies. Shakeſpear.’

This rule may be extended to govern the conſtruction of ſentences or periods. A ſentence or period in language ought to ex⯑preſs one entire thought or mental propoſi⯑tion; and different thoughts ought to be ſe⯑parated in the expreſſion by placing them in different ſentences or periods. It is therefore offending againſt neatneſs, to crowd into one period entire thoughts which require more than one; for this is conjoining in language things that are ſepa⯑rated in reality; and conſequently rejecting that uniformity which ought to be preſer⯑ved betwixt thought and expreſſion. Of errors againſt this rule take the following examples.

Caeſar, deſcribing the Suevi: ‘Atque in eam ſe conſuetudinem adduxerunt, ut locis frigidiſſimis, neque veſtitus, praeter pelles, habeant quidquam, quarum, propter exiguitatem, [264] magna eſt corporis pars operta, et laventur in flu⯑minibus. Commentaria, l. 4. prin.’

Burnet, in the hiſtory of his own times, giving Lord Sunderland's character, ſays,

Lord Bolingbroke, ſpeaking of Strada: ‘I ſingle him out among the moderns, becauſe he had the fooliſh preſumption to cenſure Tacitus, and to write hiſtory himſelf: and your Lordſhip will forgive this ſhort excurſion in honour of a favourite author. Letters on hiſtory, vol. 1. let. 5.’ ‘It ſeems to me, that in order to maintain the moral ſyſtem of the world at a certain point, far below that of ideal perfection, (for we are made capable of conceiving what we are incapable of at⯑taining), [265] but however ſufficient upon the whole to conſtitute a ſtate eaſy and happy, or at the worſt tolerable: I ſay, it ſeems to me, that the author of nature has thought fit to mingle from time to time, among the ſocieties of men, a few, and but a few, of thoſe on whom he is graciouſly pleaſed to beſtow a larger proportion of the ethereal ſpirit than is given in the ordinary courſe of his provi⯑dence to the ſons of men. Bolingbroke, on the ſpirit of patriotiſm, let. 1.’

To crowd into a ſingle member of a pe⯑riod, different ſubjects, is ſtill worſe than to crowd them into one period.

Where two things are ſo connected as to require but a copulative, it is pleaſant to find a reſemblance in the members of the period, were it even ſo ſlight as where both begin with the ſame letter: ‘The peacock, in all his pride, does not diſplay half the colour that appears in the garments of a [266] Britiſh lady, when ſhe is either dreſſed for a ball or a birth-day. Spectator, N^o 265.’ ‘Had not my dog of a ſteward run away as he did, without making up his accounts, I had ſtill been immerſed in ſin and ſea coal. Ibid. N^o. 530.’

There is obviouſly a ſenſible defect in neat⯑neſs when uniformity is in this caſe totally neglected^*; witneſs the following exam⯑ple, where the conſtruction of two mem⯑bers connected by a copulative is unneceſſa⯑rily varied.‘For it is confidently reported, that two young gentlemen of real hopes, bright wit, and profound judgment, who upon a thorough examination of cauſes and effects, and by the mere force of natu⯑ral abilities, without the leaſt tincture of learning, have made a diſcovery that there was no God, and [267] generouſly communicating their thoughts for the good of the public, were ſome time ago, by an unparallelled ſeverity, and upon I know not what obſolete law, broke for blaſphemy^*. [Better thus]: Having made a diſcovery that there was no God, and having generouſly communicated their thoughts for the good of the public, were ſome time ago, &c.’ ‘He had been guilty of a fault, for which his maſter would have put him to death, had he not found an opportunity to eſcape out of his hands, and fled into the deſerts of Numidia. Guardian, N^o 139.’ ‘If all the ends of the revolution are already ob⯑tained, it is not only impertinent to argue for ob⯑taining any of them, but factious deſigns might be imputed, and the name of incendiary be applied with ſome colour, perhaps, to any one who ſhould perſiſt in preſſing this point. Diſſertation upon parties, Dedication.’

It is even unpleaſant to find a negative and affirmative propoſition connected by a copulative.

An artificial connection among the words, is undoubtedly a beauty when it repreſents any peculiar connection among the conſti⯑tuent parts of the thought; but where there is no ſuch connection, it is a poſitive de⯑formity, becauſe it makes a diſcordance be⯑twixt the thought and expreſſion. For the ſame reaſon, we ought alſo to avoid every artificial oppoſition of words where there is none in the thought. This laſt, termed verbal antitheſis, is ſtudied by writers of no taſte; and is reliſhed by readers of the ſame ſtamp, becauſe of a certain degree of live⯑lineſs in it. They do not conſider how incongruous it is, in a grave compoſition, to cheat the reader, and to make him ex⯑pect [269] a contraſt in the thought, which upon examination is not found there.

Here is a ſtudied oppoſition in the words, not only without any oppoſition in the ſenſe, but even where there is a very inti⯑mate connection, that of cauſe and effect; for it is the levity of the wife that vexes the huſband.

To conjoin by a copulative, members that ſignify things oppoſed in the thought, is an error too groſs to be commonly practi⯑ſed. [270] And yet writers are guilty of this fault in ſome degree, when they conjoin by a copulative things tranſacted at different pe⯑riods of time. Hence a want of neatneſs in the following expreſſion. ‘The nobility too, whom the King had no means of retaining by ſuitable offices and preferments, had been ſeized with the general diſcontent, and unwarily threw themſelves into the ſcale, which began already too much to preponderate. Hiſtory of G. Britain, vol. 1. p. 250.’ In periods of this kind, it appears more neat to expreſs the paſt time by the participle paſſive, thus: ‘The nobility having been ſeized with the gene⯑ral diſcontent, unwarily threw themſelves, &c. [or], The nobility who had been ſeized, &c. un⯑warily threw themſelves, &c.’

So much upon conjunction and disjunc⯑tion in general. I proceed to apply the rule to compariſons in particular. Where a reſemblance betwixt two objects is deſcribed, the writer ought to ſtudy a reſemblance be⯑twixt the two members that expreſs theſe [271] objects. For it makes the reſemblance the more entire to find it extended even to the words. To illuſtrate this rule, I ſhall give various examples of deviations from it. I begin with the words that expreſs the re⯑ſemblance. ‘I have obſerved of late, the ſtyle of ſome great miniſters very much to exceed that of any other productions. Letter to the Lord High Treaſurer. Swift.’ This, inſtead of ſtudying the reſemblance of words in a period that expreſſes a com⯑pariſon, is going out of one's road to avoid it. Inſtead of productions which reſemble not miniſters great or ſmall, the proper word is writers or authors. ‘If men of eminence are expoſed to cenſure on the one hand, they are as much liable to flattery on the other. If they receive reproaches which are not due to them, they likewiſe receive praiſes which they do not deſerve. Spectator.’ Here the ſubject plainly demands uniformi⯑ty in expreſſion inſtead of variety; and [272] therefore it is ſubmitted whether the period would not do better in the following manner: ‘If men of eminence be expoſed to cenſure on the one hand, they are as much expoſed to flattery on the other. If they receive reproaches which are not due, they likewiſe receive praiſes which are not due.’ ‘I cannot but fancy, however, that this imitation, which paſſes ſo currently with other judgements, muſt at ſome time or other have ſtuck a little with your Lordſhip ^*. [Better thus:] I cannot but fancy, however, that this imitation, which paſſes ſo currently with others, muſt at ſome time or other have ſtuck a little with your Lordſhip.’ ‘A glutton or mere ſenſualiſt is as ridiculous as the other two characters. Shafteſbury, vol. 1. p. 129.’ ‘They wiſely prefer the generous efforts of good⯑will and affection, to the reluctant compliances of ſuch as obey by force. Remarks on the hiſtory of England. Letter 5. Bolingbroke.’

[273] Titus Livius, concerning the people of Enna demanding the keys from the Ro⯑man garriſon, makes the governor ſay, ‘Quas ſimul tradiderimus, Carthaginienſium ex⯑templo Enna erit, foediuſque hic trucidabimur, quam Murgantiae praeſidium interfectum eſt. L. 24. § 38.’

Quintus Curtius, ſpeaking of Porus mount⯑ed on an elephant, and leading his army to battle: ‘Magnitudini Pori adjicere videbatur bellua qua vehebatur, tantum inter caeteras eminens, quanto aliis ipſe praeſtabat. L. 8. cap. 14.’

It is a ſtill greater deviation from congru⯑ity, to affect not only variety in the words, but alſo in the conſtruction. Deſcribing Thermopylae, Titus Livius ſays, ‘Id jugum, ſicut A pennini dorſo Italia dividitur, ita mediam Graeciam deremit. L. 36. § 15.’ [274] Speaking of Shakeſpear: ‘There may remain a ſuſpicion that we over-rate the greatneſs of his genius; in the ſame manner as bodies appear more gigantic on account of their be⯑ing diſproportioned and miſhapen. Hiſtory of G. Britain, vol. 1. p. 138.’ This is ſtudying variety in a period where the beauty lies in uniformity. Better thus: ‘There may remain a ſuſpicion that we over-rate the greatneſs of his genius, in the ſame manner as we over-rate the greatneſs of bodies which are diſ⯑proportioned and miſhapen.’

Next as to the length of the members that ſignify the reſembling objects. To produce a reſemblance betwixt ſuch mem⯑bers, they ought not only to be conſtructed in the ſame manner, but as nearly as poſ⯑ſible be equal in length. By neglecting this circumſtance, the following example is de⯑fective in neatneſs. ‘As the performance of all other religious duties will not avail in the ſight of God, without charity, ſo neither will the diſcharge of all other miniſterial [275] duties avail in the ſight of men without a faithful diſcharge of this principal duty. Diſſertation upon parties, dedication.’ In the following paſſage all the errors are accumulated that a period expreſſing a re⯑ſemblance can well admit: ‘Miniſters are anſwerable for every thing done to the prejudice of the conſtitution, in the ſame pro⯑portion as the preſervation of the conſtitution in its purity and vigour, or the perverting and weakening it, are of greater conſequence to the nation, than any other inſtances of good or bad government. Diſſertation upon parties, dedication.’

The ſame rule obtains in a compariſon where things are oppoſed to each other. Objects contraſted, not leſs than what are ſimilar, require a reſemblance in the mem⯑bers of the period that expreſs them. The reaſon is, that contraſt has no effect up⯑on the mind, except where the things com⯑pared have a reſemblance in their capital parts^*. Therefore, in oppoſing two cir⯑cumſtances [276] to each other, it remarkably heightens the contraſt, to make as entire as poſſible the reſemblance betwixt the other parts, and in particular betwixt the mem⯑bers expreſſing the two circumſtances con⯑traſted. As things are often beſt illuſtrated by their contraries, I ſhall alſo give exam⯑ples of deviations from the rule in this caſe.

Addiſon ſays, ‘A friend exaggerates a man's virtues, an enemy inflames his crimes. Spectator, N^o 399.’ Would it not be neater to ſtudy uniformity inſtead of variety? as thus: ‘A friend exaggerates a man's virtues, an enemy his crimes.’ For here the contraſt is only betwixt a friend and an enemy; and betwixt all the other circumſtances, including the members of the period, the reſemblance ought to be pre⯑ſerved as entire as poſſible.

Speaking of a lady's head-dreſs: ‘About ten years ago it ſhot up to a very great [277] height, inſomuch that the female part of our ſpe⯑cies were much taller than the men. Spectator, N^o 98.’ It ſhould be, ‘Than the male part.’ ‘The wiſe man is happy when he gains his own approbation; the fool when he recommends him⯑ſelf to the applauſe of thoſe about him. Ibid. N^o 73.’ Better: ‘The wiſe man is happy when he gains his own approbation; the fool when he gains that of o⯑thers.’ ‘Sicut in frugibus pecudibuſque, non tantum ſe⯑mina ad ſervandum indolem valent, quantum ter⯑rae proprietas coelique, ſub quo aluntur, mutat. Livy, l. 38. § 17.’

Salluſt, in his hiſtory of Catiline's con⯑ſpiracy: ‘Per illa tempora quicumque rempublicam agita⯑vere, honeſtis nominibus, alii, ſicuti populi jura defenderent, pars, quo ſenati auctoritas maxuma [278] foret, bonum publicum ſimulantes, pro ſua quiſ⯑que potentia certabant. Cap. 38.’

We proceed to a rule of a different kind. During the courſe of a period, the ſame ſcene ought to be continued without variation. The changing from perſon to perſon, from ſubject to ſubject, or from perſon to ſubject, within the bounds of a ſingle period, diſtracts the mind, and af⯑fords no time for a ſolid impreſſion. I il⯑luſtrate this rule by giving examples of de⯑viations from it. ‘Honos alit artes, omneſque incenduntur ad ſtudia gloriâ; jacentque ea ſemper quae apud quoſque im⯑probantur. Cicero, Tuſcul. quaeſt. l. 1.’ Speaking of the diſtemper contracted by Alexander bathing in the river Cydnus and of the cure offered by Philip the phy⯑ſician: ‘Inter haec à Parmenione fidiſſimo purpurato⯑rum, literas accipit, quibus ei denunciabat, ne ſa⯑lutem ſuam Philippo committeret. Quintus Curtius, l. 3. cap. 6.’ [279] Hook, in his Roman hiſtory, ſpeaking of Eumenes, who had been beat down to the ground with a ſtone, ſays, ‘After a ſhort time he came to himſelf; and the next day, they put him on board his ſhip, which conveyed him firſt to Corinth, and thence to the iſland of Aegina.’ I give another example of a period which is unpleaſant, even by a very ſlight devia⯑tion from the rule.‘That ſort of inſtruction which is acquired by in⯑culcating an important moral truth, &c.’ This expreſſion includes two perſons, one acquiring, and one inculcating; and the ſcene is changed without neceſſity. To a⯑void this blemiſh, the thought may be ex⯑preſſed thus: ‘That ſort of inſtruction which is afforded by in⯑culcating, &c.’ The bad effect of this change of perſon is remarkable in the following paſſage. ‘[280] The Britains, daily haraſſed by cruel inroads from the Picts, were forced to call in the Saxons for their defence, who conſequently reduced the greateſt part of the iſland to their own power, drove the Britains into the moſt remote and moun⯑tainous parts, and the reſt of the country, in cu⯑ſtoms, religion, and language, became wholly Saxons. Letter to the Lord High Treaſurer. Swift.’ The following example is a change from ſubject to perſons. ‘This proſtitution of praiſe is not only a deceit upon the groſs of mankind, who take their notion of characters from the learned; but alſo the better ſort muſt by this means loſe ſome part at leaſt of that deſire of fame which is the incentive to gene⯑rous actions, when they find it promiſcuouſly be⯑ſtowed on the meritorious and undeſerving. Guardian, N^o 4.’

Even ſo ſlight a change as to vary the conſtruction in the ſame period, is unplea⯑ſant: ‘Annibal luce prima, Balearibus levique alia ar⯑matura praemiſſa, tranſgreſſus flumen, ut quoſque [281] traduxerat, ita in acie locabat; Gallos Hiſpanoſ⯑que equites prope ripam laevo in cornu adverſus Romanum equitatum; dextrum cornu Numidis equitibus datum. Tit. Liv. l. 22. § 46.’ Speaking of Hannibal's elephants drove back by the enemy upon his own army: ‘Eo magis ruere in ſuos belluae, tantoque majo⯑rem ſtragem edere quam inter hoſtes ediderant, quanto acrius pavor conſternatam agit, quam inſi⯑dentis magiſtri imperio regitur. Liv. l. 27. § 14.’ This paſſage is alſo faulty in a different re⯑ſpect, that there is no reſemblance betwixt the members of the expreſſion, though they import a compariſon.

The preſent head, which relates to the choice of materials, ſhall be cloſed with a rule concerning the uſe of copulatives. Longinus obſerves, that it animates a period to drop the copulatives; and he gives the following example from Xenophon. ‘[282] Cloſing their ſhields together, they were puſh'd, they fought, they ſlew, they were ſlain. Treatiſe of the Sublime, cap. 16.’ The reaſon I take to be what follows. A continued ſound, if not ſtrong, tends to lay us aſleep. An interrupted ſound rou⯑ſes and animates by its repeated impulſes. Hence it is, that ſyllables collected into feet, being pronounced with a ſenſible in⯑terval betwixt each, make more lively im⯑preſſions than can be made by a continued ſound. A period, the members of which are connected by copulatives, produceth an effect upon the mind approaching to that of a continued ſound: and therefore to ſuppreſs the copulatives muſt animate a deſcription. To ſuppreſs the copulatives hath another good effect. The mem⯑bers of a period connected by the proper copulatives, glide ſmoothly and gently a⯑long; and are a proof of ſedateneſs and leiſure in the ſpeaker. On the other hand, a man in the hurry of paſſion, neglecting copulatives and other particles, expreſſes the principal image only. Hence it is, that [283] hurry or quick action is beſt expreſſed with⯑out copulatives:

In this view Longinus^* juſtly compares co⯑pulatives in a period to ſtrait tying, which in a race obſtructs the freedom of motion.

It follows from the ſame premiſſes, that to multiply copulatives in the ſame period ought to be avoided. For if the laying aſide copulatives give force and livelineſs, a redun⯑dancy of them muſt render the period languid. I appeal to the following inſtance, though there are not more than two copulatives. ‘Upon looking over the letters of my female cor⯑reſpondents, I find ſeveral from women complain⯑ing of jealous huſbands; and at the ſame time pro⯑teſting their own innocence, and deſiring my ad⯑vice upon this occaſion. Spectator, N^o 170.’ [284] I except the caſe where the words are in⯑tended to expreſs the coldneſs of the ſpeak⯑er; for there the redundancy of copulatives is a beauty.

And the author ſhows great taſte in vary⯑ing the expreſſion in the mouth of Peter, who is repreſented more animated.

We proceed to the ſecond kind of beauty, which conſiſts in a due arrangement of the words or materials. This branch of the ſubject is not leſs nice than extenſive; and [285] I deſpair to put it in a clear light, until a ſketch be given of the general principles that govern the ſtructure or compoſition of language.

Every thought, generally ſpeaking, con⯑tains one capital object conſidered as acting or as ſuffering. This object is expreſſed by a ſubſtantive noun. Its action is ex⯑preſſed by an active verb; and the thing affected by the action is expreſſed by ano⯑ther ſubſtantive noun. Its ſuffering or paſ⯑ſive ſtate is expreſſed by a paſſive verb, and the thing which acts upon it, by a ſubſtantive noun. Beſide theſe, which are the capital parts of a ſentence or period, there are generally under-parts. Each of the ſubſtan⯑tives as well as the verb, may be qualified. Time, place, purpoſe, motive, means, in⯑ſtrument, and a thouſand other circum⯑ſtances, may be neceſſary to complete the thought. And in what manner theſe ſeve⯑ral parts are connected together in the ex⯑preſſion, will appear from what follows.

In a complete thought or mental propo⯑ſition, all the members and parts are mu⯑tually related, ſome ſlightly, ſome more inti⯑mately. [286] In communicating ſuch a thought, it is not ſufficient that the component ideas be clearly expreſſed: it is alſo neceſſary, that all the relations contained in the thought be expreſſed according to their different de⯑grees of intimacy. To annex a certain meaning to a certain ſound or word, re⯑quires no art. The great nicety in all lan⯑guages is, to expreſs the various relations that connect together the parts of the thought. Could we ſuppoſe this branch of language to be ſtill a ſecret, it would puzzle, I am apt to think, the greateſt grammarian ever exiſted, to invent an expeditious me⯑thod. And yet, by the guidance merely of nature, the rude and illiterate have been led to a method ſo perfect, that it appears not ſuſceptible of any improvement. Without a clear conception of the manner of expreſſ⯑ing relations, one at every turn muſt be at a loſs about the beauties of language; and upon that ſubject therefore I find it neceſſary to ſay a few words.

Words that import a relation, muſt be diſtinguiſhed from thoſe that do not. Sub⯑ſtantives commonly imply no relation, ſuch [287] as animal, man, tree, river. Adjectives, verbs, and adverbs, imply a relation. The adjective good muſt be connected with ſome ſubſtantive, ſome being poſſeſſed of that quality. The verb write muſt be applied to ſome perſon who writes; and the adverbs moderately, diligently, have plainly a refer⯑ence to ſome action which they modify. When in language a relative term is intro⯑duced, all that is neceſſary to complete the expreſſion, is, to aſcertain that thing to which the term relates. For anſwering this purpoſe, I obſerve in Greek and Latin two different methods. Adjectives are declined as well as ſubſtantives; and declenſion ſerves to aſcertain the connection that is betwixt them. If the word that expreſſes the ſub⯑ject be, for example, in the nominative caſe, ſo alſo muſt the word be that expreſſes its quality. Example, vir bonus. Again, verbs are related, on the one hand, to the agent; and, on the other, to the ſubject upon which the action is exerted. A contrivance ſimilar to that now mentioned, ſerves to ex⯑preſs this double relation. The nominative caſe is appropriated to the agent, the accu⯑ſative [286] [...] [287] [...] [288] to the paſſive ſubject; and the verb is put in the firſt ſecond or third perſon, to correſpond the more intimately with both. Examples: Ego amo Tulliam; tu amas Sem⯑proniam; Brutus amat Portiam. The other method is by juxtapoſition, which is ne⯑ceſſary with reſpect to words only that are not declined, adverbs for example, articles, prepoſitions, and conjunctions. In the Engliſh language there are few declenſions; and therefore juxtapoſition is our chief re⯑ſource. Adjectives accompany their ſub⯑ſtantives^*; an adverb accompanies the word it qualifies; and the verb occupies the middle place betwixt the active and paſ⯑ſive ſubjects to which it relates.

It muſt be obvious, that thoſe terms which have nothing relative in their ſignification, [289] cannot be connected in ſo eaſy a manner. When two ſubſtantives happen to be con⯑nected, as cauſe and effect, as principal and acceſſory, or in any other manner, ſuch connection cannot be expreſſed by contigu⯑ity ſolely; for words muſt often in a period be placed together which are not thus rela⯑ted. The relation betwixt ſubſtantives, therefore, cannot otherwiſe be expreſſed than by particles denoting the relation. Latin indeed and Greek, by their declen⯑ſions, go a certain length to expreſs ſuch re⯑lations, without the aid of particles. The relation of property, for example, betwixt Caeſar and his horſe is, expreſſed by putting the latter in the nominative caſe, the for⯑mer in the genitive; equus Caeſaris. The like in Engliſh, Caeſar's horſe. But in other inſtances, declenſions not being uſed in the Engliſh language, relations of this kind are commonly expreſſed by prepoſitions.

This form of connecting by prepoſitions, is not confined to ſubſtantives. Qualities, at⯑tributes, manner of exiſting or acting, and all other circumſtances, may in the ſame manner be connected with the ſubſtantives [290] to which they relate. This is done artifi⯑cially by converting the circumſtance into a ſubſtantive, in which condition it is qualified to be connected with the principal ſubject by a prepoſition, in the manner above deſcri⯑bed. For example, the adjective wiſe being converted into the ſubſtantive wiſdom, gives opportunity for the expreſſion ‘"a man of wiſdom,"’ inſtead of the more ſimple ex⯑preſſion, a wiſe man. This variety in the ex⯑preſſion, enriches language. I obſerve be⯑ſide, that the uſing a prepoſition in this caſe, is not always a matter of choice. It is in⯑diſpenſable with reſpect to every circum⯑ſtance that cannot be expreſſed by a ſingle adjective or adverb.

To pave the way for the rules of arrange⯑ment, one other preliminary muſt be diſ⯑cuſſed, which is, to explain the difference betwixt a natural ſtyle, and that where tranſpoſition or inverſion prevails. There are, it is true, no preciſe boundaries betwixt theſe two; for they run into each other, like the ſhades of different colours. No perſon however is at a loſs to diſtinguiſh them in their extremes: and it is neceſſary to make [291] the diſtinction; becauſe though ſome of the rules I ſhall have occaſion to mention are common to both, yet each has rules peculiar to itſelf. In a natural ſtyle, relative words are by juxtapoſition connected with thoſe to which they relate, going before or after, according to the peculiar genius of the lan⯑guage. Again, a circumſtance connected by a prepoſition, follows naturally the word with which it is connected. But this ar⯑rangement may be varied, when a different order is more beautiful. A circumſtance may be placed before the word with which it is connected by a prepoſition; and may be interjected even betwixt a relative word and that to which it relates. When ſuch liberties are frequently taken, the ſtyle be⯑comes inverted or tranſpoſed.

But as the liberty of inverſion is a capital point in handling the preſent ſubject, it will be neceſſary to examine it more narrowly, and in particular to trace the ſeveral degrees in which an inverted ſtyle recedes more and more from that which is natural. And firſt, as to the placing a circumſtance before the word with which it is connected, I obſerve, [292] that it is the eaſieſt of all inverſion, even ſo eaſy as to be conſiſtent with a ſtyle that is properly termed natural. Witneſs the fol⯑lowing examples.‘In the ſincerity of my heart, I profeſs, &c.’ ‘By our own ill management, we are brought to ſo low an ebb of wealth and credit, that, &c.’ ‘On Thurſday morning there was little or nothing tranſacted in Change-alley.’ ‘At St Bride's church in Fleetſtreet, Mr Wool⯑ſton, (who writ againſt the miracles of our Saviour), in the utmoſt terrors of conſcience made a public recantation.’

The interjecting a circumſtance betwixt a relative word and that to which it relates, is more properly termed inverſion; becauſe, by a violent disjunction of words intimately connected, it recedes farther from a natural ſtyle. But this liberty has alſo degrees; for the disjunction is more violent in ſome caſes than in others. This I muſt alſo explain: and to give a juſt notion of the difference, I muſt crave liberty of my reader to enter a [293] little more into an abſtract ſubject, than would otherwiſe be my choice.

In nature, though a ſubſtance cannot ex⯑iſt without its qualities, nor a quality with⯑out a ſubſtance; yet in our conception of theſe, a material difference may be remark⯑ed. I cannot conceive a quality but as be⯑longing to ſome ſubject: it makes indeed a part of the idea which is formed of the ſub⯑ject. But the oppoſite holds not. Though I cannot form a conception of a ſubject de⯑void of all qualities, a partial conception may however be formed of it, laying aſide or abſtracting from any particular quality. I can, for example, form the idea of a fine Arabian horſe without regard to his colour, or of a white horſe without regard to his ſize. Such partial conception of a ſubject, is ſtill more eaſy with reſpect to action or motion; which is an occaſional attribute only, and has not the ſame permanency with colour or figure. I cannot form an idea of motion independent of a body; but there is nothing more eaſy than to form an idea of a body at reſt. Hence it appears, that the degree of inverſion depends greatly [294] on the order in which the related words are placed. When a ſubſtantive occupies the firſt place, we cannot foreſee what is to be ſaid of it. The idea therefore which this word ſuggeſts, muſt ſubſiſt in the mind at leaſt for a moment, independent of the re⯑lative words afterward introduced; and if it can ſo ſubſiſt, that moment may without difficulty be prolonged by interjecting a cir⯑cumſtance betwixt the ſubſtantive and its connections. Examples therefore of this kind, will ſcarce alone be ſufficient to deno⯑minate a ſtyle inverted. The caſe is very different, where the word that occupies the firſt place, denotes a quality or an action; for as theſe cannot be conceived without a ſubject, they cannot without greater violence be ſeparated from the ſubject that follows. And for that reaſon, every ſuch ſeparation by means of an interjected circumſtance belongs to an inverted ſtyle.

To illuſtrate this doctrine examples being neceſſary, I ſhall begin with thoſe where the word firſt introduced does not imply a relation.

In the following examples, where the word firſt introduced imports a relation, the disjunction will be found more violent.

Language would have no great power, were it confined to the natural order of i⯑deas. A thouſand beauties may be compaſſ⯑ed by inverſion, that muſt be relinquiſhed in a natural arrangement. I ſhall ſoon have an opportunity to make this evident. In the mean time, it ought not to eſcape ob⯑ſervation, that the mind of man is happily ſo conſtituted as to reliſh inverſion, though in one reſpect unnatural; and to reliſh it ſo much, as in many caſes to admit a violent disjunction of words that by the ſenſe are in⯑timately connected. I ſcarce can ſay that inverſion has any limits; though I may venture to pronounce, that the disjunction of articles, conjunctions, or prepoſitions, [297] from the words to which they belong, ne⯑ver has a good effect. The following ex⯑ample with relation to a prepoſition, is per⯑haps as tolerable as any of the kind.‘He would neither ſeparate from, nor act againſt them.’

I give notice to the reader, that I am now ready to enter upon the rules of ar⯑rangement; beginning with a natural ſtyle, and proceeding gradually to what is the moſt inverted. And in the arrangement of a period, as well as in a right choice of words, the firſt and great object being perſpi⯑cuity, it is above laid down as a rule, That perſpicuity ought not to be ſacrificed to any other beauty whatever. Ambiguities occa⯑ſioned by a wrong arrangement are of two ſorts; one where the arrangement leads to a wrong ſenſe, and one where the ſenſe is left doubtful. The firſt being the more culpable, ſhall take the lead, beginning with examples of words put in a wrong place. ‘How much the imagination of ſuch a preſence muſt exalt a genius, we may obſerve merely from [298] the influence which an ordinary preſence has over men. Characteriſtics, vol. 1. p. 7.’ This arrangement leads to a wrong ſenſe: The adverb merely ſeems by its poſition to affect the preceding word; whereas it is intended to affect the following words an ordinary preſence; and therefore the ar⯑rangement ought to be thus. ‘How much the imagination of ſuch a preſence muſt exalt a genius, we may obſerve from the in⯑fluence which an ordinary preſence merely has o⯑ver men.’ ‘The time of the election of a poet-laureat be⯑ing now at hand, it may be proper to give ſome ac⯑count of the rites and ceremonies anciently uſed at that ſolemnity, and only diſcontinued through the neglect and degeneracy of later times. Guardian.’ The term only is intended to qualify the noun degeneracy, and not the participle diſ⯑continued; and therefore the arrangement ought to be as follows. ‘[299] —and diſcontinued through the neglect and degeneracy only, of later times.’ ‘Sixtus the Fourth was, if I miſtake not, a great collector of books at leaſt. Letters on hiſtory, vol. 1. let. 6. Bolingbroke.’ The expreſſion here leads evidently to a wrong ſenſe. The averb at leaſt, ought not to be connected with the ſubſtantive books, but with collector, thus: ‘Sixtus the Fourth was a great collector at leaſt, of books.’

Speaking of Lewis XIV. ‘If he was not the greateſt king, he was the beſt actor of majeſty at leaſt, that ever filled a throne. Ibid. letter 7.’ Better thus: ‘If he was not the greateſt king, he was at leaſt the beſt actor of majeſty, &c.’ This arrangement removes the wrong ſenſe occaſioned by the juxtapoſition of majeſty and at leaſt.

[300] The following examples are of the wrong arrangement of members. ‘I have confined myſelf to thoſe methods for the advancement of piety, which are in the power of a prince limited like ours by a ſtrict execution of the laws. A project for the advancement of religion. Swift.’ The ſtructure of this period leads to a meaning which is not the author's, viz. power limited by a ſtrict execution of the laws. This wrong ſenſe is removed by the following arrangement. ‘I have confined myſelf to thoſe methods for the advancement of piety, which, by a ſtrict execution of the laws, are in the power of a prince limited like ours.’ ‘This morning when one of Lady Lizard's daugh⯑ters was looking over ſome hoods and ribands brought by her tirewoman, with great care and diligence, I employed no leſs in examining the box which contained them. Guardian, N^o 4.’ The wrong ſenſe occaſioned by this ar⯑rangement, may be eaſily prevented by va⯑rying it thus: ‘[301] This morning when, with great care and dili⯑gence, one of Lady Lizard's daughters was look⯑ing over ſome hoods and ribands, &c.’ ‘A great ſtone that I happened to find after a long ſearch by the ſea-ſhore, ſerved me for an anchor. Gulliver's Travels, part 1. chap. 8.’ One would think that the ſearch was con⯑fined to the ſea-ſhore; but as the meaning is, that the great ſtone was found by the ſea-ſhore, the period ought to be arranged thus: ‘A great ſtone, that, after a long ſearch, I hap⯑pened to find by the ſea-ſhore, ſerved me for an⯑chor.’

Next of a wrong arrangement where the ſenſe is left doubtful; beginning, as in the former ſort, with examples of the wrong arrangement of words in a member. ‘Theſe forms of converſation by degrees multi⯑tiplied and grew troubleſome. Spectator, N^o 119.’ [302] Here it is left doubtful whether the modi⯑fication by degrees relate to the preceding member or to what follows. It ſhould be, ‘Theſe forms of converſation multiplied by de⯑grees.’ ‘Nor does this falſe modeſty expoſe us only to ſuch actions as are indiſcreet, but very often to ſuch as are highly criminal. Spectator, N^o 458.’ The ambiguity is removed by the follow⯑ing arrangement. ‘Nor does this falſe modeſty expoſe us to ſuch actions only as are indiſcreet, &c.’ ‘The empire of Blefuſcu is an iſland ſituated to the north-eaſt ſide of Lilliput, from whence it is parted only by a channel of 800 yards wide. Gulliver's Travels, part 1. chap. 5.’ The ambiguity may be removed thus: ‘—from whence it is parted by a chan⯑nel of 800 yards wide only.’

In the following examples the ſenſe is left [303] doubtful by a wrong arrangement of mem⯑bers. ‘The miniſter who grows leſs by his elevation, like a little ſtatue placed on a mighty pedeſtal, will always have his jealouſy ſtrong about him. Diſſertation upon parties, dedication. Bolingbroke.’ Here, ſo far as can be gathered from the arrangement, it is doubtful, whether the object introduced by way of ſimile, relate to what goes before or to what follows. The ambiguity is removed by the following arrangement. ‘The miniſter who, like a little ſtatue placed on a mighty pedeſtal, grows leſs by his elevation, will always, &c.’ ‘Since this is too much to aſk of freemen, nay of ſlaves, if his expectation be not anſwered, ſhall he form a laſting diviſion upon ſuch tranſient motives? Ibid.’ Better thus: ‘Since this is too much to aſk of freemen, nay of ſlaves, ſhall he, if his expectation be not an⯑ſwered, form, &c.’ [304] Speaking of the ſuperſtitious practice of locking up the room where a perſon of diſ⯑tinction dies: ‘The knight, ſeeing his habitation reduced to ſo ſmall a compaſs, and himſelf in a manner ſhut out of his own houſe, upon the death off his mother or⯑dered all the apartments to be flung open, and ex⯑orciſed by his chaplain. Spectator, N^o 110.’ Better thus: ‘The knight, ſeeing his habitation reduced to ſo ſmall a compaſs, and himſelf in a manner ſhut out of his own houſe, ordered, upon the death of his mother, all the apartments to be flung open."’

Speaking of ſome indecencies in conver⯑ſation: ‘As it is impoſſible for ſuch an irrational way of converſation to laſt long among a people that make any profeſſion of religion, or ſhow of modeſty, if the country-gentlemen get into it, they will certainly be left in the lurch. Spectator, N^o. 119.’ The ambiguity vaniſhes in the following arrangement. ‘—the country-gentlemen, if they get into it, will certainly be left in the lurch.’

[305] Speaking of a diſcovery in natural phi⯑loſophy, that colour is not a quality of mat⯑ter: ‘As this is a truth which has been proved incon⯑teſtably by many modern philoſophers, and is in⯑deed one of the fineſt ſpeculations in that ſcience, if the Engliſh reader would ſee the notion explained at large, he may find it in the eighth chapter of the ſecond book of Mr Locke's eſſay on human underſtanding. Spectator, N^o 413.’ Better thus: ‘As this is a truth, &c. the Engliſh reader, if he would ſee the notion explained at large, may find it, &c.’ ‘A woman ſeldom aſks advice before ſhe has bought her wedding-cloaths. When ſhe has made her own choice, for form's ſake ſhe ſends a conge d'elire to her friends. Ibid. N^o 475.’ Better thus: ‘—ſhe ſends for form's ſake a conge d'elire to her friends.’ ‘And ſince it is neceſſary that there ſhould be a perpetual intercourſe of buying and ſelling, and [306] dealing upon credit, where fraud is permitted or connived at, or hath no law to puniſh it, the honeſt dealer is always undone, and the knave gets the advantage. Gulliver's Travels, part 1. chap. 6.’ Better thus: ‘And ſince it is neceſſary that there ſhould be a perpetual intercourſe of buying and ſelling, and dealing upon credit, the honeſt dealer, where fraud is permitted or connived at, or hath no law to puniſh it, is always undone, and the knave gets the advantage.’

From theſe examples, the following ob⯑ſervation will readily occur, that a circum⯑ſtance ought never to be placed betwixt two capital members of a period; for by ſuch ſituation it muſt always be doubtful, ſo far as we gather from the arrangement, to which of the two members it belongs. Where it is interjected, as it ought to be, betwixt parts of the member to which it belongs, the ambiguity is removed, and the capital members are kept diſtinct, which is a great beauty in compoſition. In gene⯑ral, to preſerve members diſtinct which ſignify things diſtinguiſhed in the thought, [307] the ſure method is, to place firſt in the conſequent member ſome word that cannot connect with what precedes it.

If by any one it ſhall be thought, that the objections here are too ſcrupulous, and that the defect of perſpicuity is eaſily ſup⯑plied by accurate punctuation; the anſwer is, That punctuation may remove an am⯑biguity, but will never produce that pecu⯑liar beauty which is felt when the ſenſe comes out clearly and diſtinctly by means of a happy arrangement. Such influence has this beauty, that by a natural tranſition of feeling, it is communicated to the very ſound of the words, ſo as in appearance to improve the muſic of the period. But as this curious ſubject comes in more properly afterward, it is ſufficient at preſent to appeal to experience, that a period ſo arranged as to bring out the ſenſe clear, ſeems always more muſical than where the ſenſe is left in any degree doubtful.

A rule deſervedly occupying the ſecond place, is, That words expreſſing things con⯑nected in the thought, ought to be placed as near together as poſſible. This rule is [308] derived immediately from human nature, in which there is diſcovered a remarkable propenſity to place together things that are in any manner connected^*. Where things are arranged according to their connections, we have a ſenſe of order: otherwiſe we have a ſenſe of diſorder, as of things placed by chance. And we naturally place words in the ſame order in which we would place the things they ſignify. The bad effect of a violent ſeparation of words or members thus intimately connected, will appear from the following examples. ‘For the Engliſh are naturally fanciful, and ve⯑ry often diſpoſed, by that gloomineſs and melancho⯑ly of temper which is ſo frequent in our nation, to many wild notions and viſions, to which others are not ſo liable. Spectator, N^o 419.’ Here the verb or aſſertion is, by a pretty long circumſtance, violently ſeparated from the ſubject to which it refers. This makes a harſh arrangement; the leſs excuſable that [309] the fault is eaſily prevented by placing the circumſtance before the verb or aſſertion, af⯑ter the following manner: ‘For the Engliſh are naturally fanciful, and, by that gloomineſs and melancholy of temper which is ſo frequent in our nation, are often diſpoſed to many wild notions, &c.’ ‘For as no mortal author, in the ordinary fate and viciſſitude of things, knows to what uſe his works may, ſome time or other, be applied, &c. Spectator, N^o 85.’ Better thus: ‘For as, in the ordinary fate and viciſſitude of things, no mortal author knows to what uſe, ſome time or other, his works may be apply'd.’ ‘From whence we may date likewiſe the rival⯑ſhip of the houſe of France, for we may reckon that of the Valois and that of Bourbon as one upon this occaſion, and the houſe of Auſtria, that conti⯑nues at this day, and has oft coſt ſo much blood and ſo much treaſure in the courſe of it. Letters on hiſtory, vol. 1. letter 6. Bolingbroke.’ ‘[310] It cannot be impertinent or ridiculous therefore in ſuch a country, whatever it might be in the Ab⯑bot of St Real's, which was Savoy I think; or in Peru, under the Incas, where Garcilaſſo de la Ve⯑ga ſays it was lawful for none but the nobility to ſtudy—for men of all degrees to inſtruct themſelves in thoſe affairs wherein they may be actors, or jud⯑ges of thoſe that act, or controllers of thoſe that judge. Letters on hiſtory, vol. 1. letter 5. Bolingbroke.’ ‘If Scipio, who was naturally given to women, for which anecdote we have, if I miſtake not, the authority of Polybius, as well as ſome verſes of Nevius preſerved by Aulus Gellius, had been edu⯑cated by Olympias at the court of Philip, it is im⯑probable that he would have reſtored the beautiful Spaniard. Ibid. letter 3.’ If any one have a curioſity for more ſpeci⯑mens of this kind, they will be found with⯑out number in the works of the ſame au⯑thor.

A pronoun, which ſaves the naming a perſon or thing a ſecond time, ought to be placed as near as poſſible to the name of that perſon or thing. This is a branch of [311] the foregoing rule; and with the reaſon there given, another concurs, viz. That if other ideas intervene, it is difficult to recal the perſon or thing by reference. ‘If I had leave to print the Latin letters tranſmit⯑ted to me from foreign parts, they would fill a vo⯑lume, and be a full defence againſt all that Mr Partridge, or his accomplices of the Portugal inqui⯑ſition, will be ever able to object; who, by the way, are the only enemies my predictions have ever met with at home or abroad.’ Better thus: ‘—and be a full defence againſt all that can be objected by Mr Partridge, or his accomplices of the Portugal inquiſition; who, by the way, are, &c.’ ‘There being a round million of creatures in hu⯑man figure, throughout this kingdom, whoſe whole ſubſiſtence, &c. A modeſt propoſal, &c. Swift.’ Better: ‘There being, throughout this kingdom, a round million of creatures in human figure, whoſe whole ſubſiſtence, &c.’ ‘[312] Tom is a lively impudent clown, and has wit enough to have made him a pleaſant companion, had it been poliſhed and rectified by good manners. Guardian, N^o 162.’ ‘It is the cuſtom of the Mahometans, if they ſee any printed or written paper upon the ground, to take it up, and lay it aſide carefully, as not know⯑ing but it may contain ſome piece of their Alcoran. Spectator, N^o 85.’ The arrangement here leads to a wrong ſenſe, as if the ground were taken up, not the paper. Better thus: ‘It is the cuſtom of the Mahometans, if they ſee upon the ground any printed or written paper, to take it up, &c.’

The following rule depends on the com⯑munication of emotions or feelings to rela⯑ted objects, a principle in human nature we have had more than one occaſion to mention. We find this operation, even where the objects are not otherwiſe related than by the juxtapoſition of the words that expreſs them. Hence to elevate or depreſs an ob⯑ject, one method is, to join it in the ar⯑rangement [313] to another that is naturally high or low. Witneſs the following ſpeech of Eumenes to the Roman ſenate. ‘Cauſam veniendi ſibi Roman fuiſſe, praeter cu⯑piditatem viſendi deos homineſque, quorum beneficio in ea fortuna eſſet, ſupra quam ne optare quidem auderet, etiam ut coram moneret ſenatum ut Perſei conatus obviam iret. Livy, l. 42. cap. 11.’ To join the Romans with the gods in the ſame enunciation, is an artful ſtroke of flattery, becauſe it tacitly puts them on a le⯑vel. On the other hand, when the pur⯑poſe is to degrade or vilify an object, this is done ſucceſsfully by ranking it with one that is really low: ‘I hope to have this entertainment in a readineſs for the next winter; and doubt not but it will pleaſe more than the opera or puppet-ſhow. Spectator, N^o 28.’ ‘Manifold have been the judgments which Hea⯑ven from time to time, for the chaſtiſement of a ſin⯑ful people, has inflicted upon whole nations. For when the degeneracy becomes common, 'tis but [314] juſt the puniſhment ſhould be general. Of this kind, in our own unfortunate country, was that deſtructive peſtilence, whoſe mortality was ſo fa⯑tal as to ſweep away, if Sir William Petty may be believed, five millions of Chriſtian ſouls, beſides women and Jews. God's revenge againſt punning. Arbuthnot.’ ‘Such alſo was that dreadful conflagration enſuing in this famous metropolis of London, which con⯑ſumed, according to the computation of Sir Samuel Morland, 100,000 houſes, not to mention church⯑es and ſtables. Ibid.’ ‘But on condition it might paſs into a law, I would gladly exempt both lawyers of all ages, ſub⯑altern and field officers, young heirs, dancing-ma⯑ſters, pickpockets, and players. An infallible ſcheme to pay the public debts. Swift.’

Circumſtances in a period reſemble ſmall ſtones in a building employ'd to fill up va⯑cancies among thoſe of a larger ſize. In the arrangement of a period, ſuch under⯑parts crowded together make a poor figure; and never are graceful but when interſper⯑ſed among the capital parts. I ſhall illuſtrate this rule by the following example. ‘[315] It is likewiſe urged, that there are, by computa⯑tion, in this kingdom, above 10,000 parſons, whoſe revenues, added to thoſe of my Lords the biſhops, would ſuffice to maintain, &c. Argument againſt aboliſhing Chriſtianity. Swift.’ Here two circumſtances, viz. by computa⯑tion and in this kingdom, are crowded toge⯑ther unneceſſarily. They make a better ap⯑pearance ſeparated in the following manner.‘It is likewiſe urged, that in this kingdom there are, by computation, above 10,000 parſons, &c.’

If there be room for a choice, the ſooner a circumſtance be introduced, the better. Circumſtances are proper for that coolneſs of mind, with which a period as well as a work is commenced. In the progreſs, the mind warms, and has a greater reliſh for matters of importance. When a circum⯑ſtance is placed at the beginning or near the beginning of the period, the tranſition from it to the principal ſubject is agreeable: it is like aſcending or mounting upward. On the other hand, to place it late in the period has a bad effect; for after being engaged in [316] the principal ſubject, one is with reluctance brought down to give attention to a circum⯑ſtance. Hence evidently the preference of the following arrangement, ‘Whether in any country a choice altogether un⯑exceptionable has been made, ſeems doubtful,’ before this other, ‘Whether a choice altogether unexceptionable has in any country been made, &c.’ For this reaſon the following period is ex⯑ceptionable in point of arrangement: ‘I have conſidered formerly, with a good deal of attention, the ſubject upon which you command me to communicate my thoughts to you. Bolingbroke of the ſtudy of hiſtory, letter 1.’ which, with a ſlight alteration, may be im⯑proved thus: ‘I have formerly, with a good deal of attention, conſidered the ſubject, &c.’

The bad effect of placing a circumſtance [317] laſt or late in a period, will appear from the following examples. ‘Let us endeavour to eſtabliſh to ourſelves an in⯑tereſt in him who holds the reins of the whole creation in his hand. Spectator, N^o 12.’ Better thus: ‘Let us endeavour to eſtabliſh to ourſelves an in⯑tereſt in him, who, in his hand, holds the reins of the whole creation.’ ‘Virgil, who has caſt the whole ſyſtem of Platonic philoſophy, ſo far as it relates to the ſoul of man, into beautiful allegories, in the ſixth book of his Aeneid, gives us the puniſhment, &c. Spectator, N^o 90.’ Better thus: ‘Virgil, who in the ſixth book of his Aeneid has caſt, &c.’ ‘And Philip the Fourth was obliged at laſt to con⯑clude a peace, on terms repugnant to his inclina⯑tion, to that of his people, to the intereſt of Spain, and to that of all Europe, in the Pyrenean treaty. Letters on hiſtory, vol. 1. letter 6. Bolingbroke.’ [318] Better thus: ‘And at laſt, in the Pyrenean treaty, Philip the Fourth was obliged to conclude a peace, &c.’

In arranging a period, it is of importance to determine in what part of it a word makes the greateſt figure, whether in the begin⯑ning, during the currency, or at the cloſe. The breaking ſilence rouſes the attention to what is ſaid; and therefore deeper impreſ⯑ſion is made at the beginning than during the currency. The beginning, however, muſt yield to the cloſe; which being ſuc⯑ceeded by a pauſe, affords time for a word to make its deepeſt impreſſion. Hence the following rule, That to give the utmoſt force to a period, it ought if poſſible to be cloſed with that word which makes the greateſt figure. The opportunity of a pauſe ſhould not be thrown away upon acceſſories, but reſerved for the principal object, in order that it may make a full impreſſion. This is an additional reaſon againſt cloſing a pe⯑riod with a circumſtance. There are how⯑ever periods that admit not this ſtructure; [319] and in that caſe, the capital word ought if poſſible to be placed in the front, which next to the cloſe is the moſt advantageous for making an impreſſion. Hence, in di⯑recting our diſcourſe to any man, we ought to begin with his name; and one will be ſenſible of a degradation, when this rule is neglected, as it frequently is for the ſake of verſe. I give the following examples.

‘Je crains Dieu, cher Abner, et n'ai point d'autre crainte.’ In theſe examples the name of the perſon addreſſed to makes a mean figure, being like a circumſtance ſlipt into a corner. That this criticiſm is well founded, we need no other proof than Addiſon's tranſlation of the laſt example. ‘[320] O Abner! I fear my God, and I fear none but him. Guardian, N^o 117.’

Every one muſt be ſenſible of a dignity in the invocation at the beginning, which that in the middle is far from reaching. I mean not however to cenſure this expreſſion. On the contrary it appears beautiful, by diſtin⯑guiſhing the reſpect due to a father and to a ſon.

The ſubſtance of what is ſaid in this and the foregoing ſection, upon the method of arranging the words of a period ſo as to make the ſtrongeſt impreſſion with reſpect to ſound as well as ſignification, is compre⯑hended in the following obſervation. That order of the words in a period will always be the moſt agreeable, where, without ob⯑ſcuring the ſenſe, the moſt important i⯑mages, [321] the moſt ſonorous words, and the longeſt members, bring up the rear.

Hitherto of arranging ſingle words, ſin⯑gle members, and ſingle circumſtances. But the enumeration of many particulars in the ſame period is often neceſſary; and the queſtion is, In what order they ſhould be placed. It does not ſeem eaſy at firſt view to bring a ſubject apparently ſo looſe under any general rules. But luckily reflecting upon what is ſaid in the firſt chapter about order, we find rules laid down to our hand, ſo as to leave us no harder taſk than their application to the preſent queſtion. And, firſt, with reſpect to the enumerating a number of particulars of equal rank, it is laid down in the place cited, that as there is no foundation for preferring any one be⯑fore the reſt, it is indifferent to the mind in what order they be viewed. And it is only neceſſary to be added here, that for the ſame reaſon, it is indifferent in what order they be named. 2dly, If a number of objects of the ſame kind, differing only in ſize, are to be ranged along a ſtraight [322] line, the moſt agreeable order to the eye is that of an increaſing ſeries. In ſurveying a number of ſuch objects, beginning at the leaſt and proceeding to greater and greater, the mind ſwells gradually with the ſucceſſive objects, and in its progreſs has a very ſen⯑ſible pleaſure. Preciſely for the ſame rea⯑ſon, the words expreſſive of ſuch objects ought to be placed in the ſame order. The beauty of this figure, which may be term⯑ed a climax in ſenſe, has eſcaped Lord Bo⯑lingbroke in the firſt member of the fol⯑lowing period.‘Let but one great, brave, diſintereſted, active man ariſe, and he will be received, followed, and almoſt adored.’ The following arrangement has ſenſibly a better effect.‘Let but one brave, great, active, diſintereſt⯑ed man ariſe, &c.’ Whether the ſame rule ought to be follow⯑ed in enumerating men of different ranks, ſeems doubtful. On the one hand, a pro⯑ceſſion [323] of a number of perſons, preſenting the loweſt claſs firſt, and riſing upon the eye in ſucceſſion till it terminate upon the high⯑eſt, is undoubtedly the moſt agreeable or⯑der. On the other hand, in every liſt of names, it is cuſtomary to ſet the perſon of the greateſt dignity at the top, and to deſcend gradually through his inferiors. Where the purpoſe is to honour the perſons named according to their rank, the latter order ought to be followed; but every one who regards himſelf only, or his reader, will chuſe the former order. 3dly, As the ſenſe of order directs the eye to deſcend from the principal to its greateſt acceſſory, and from the whole to its greateſt part, and in the ſame order through all the parts and acceſſories till we arrive at the minu⯑teſt; the ſame order ought to be followed in the enumeration of ſuch particulars. I ſhall give on familiar example. Talking of the parts of a column, viz. the baſe, the ſhaft, the capital, theſe are capable of ſix different arrangements, and the queſtion is, Which is the beſt? When one has in view the erection of a column, he will na⯑turally [324] be led to expreſs the parts in the or⯑der above mentioned; which at the ſame time is agreeable by mounting upward. But conſidering the column as it ſtands without reference to its erection, the ſenſe of order, as obſerved above, requires the chief part to be named firſt. For that reaſon we begin with the ſhaft; and the baſe comes next in order, that we may a⯑ſcend from it to the capital. Laſtly, In tracing the particulars of any natural ope⯑ration, order requires that we follow the courſe of nature. Hiſtorical facts are rela⯑ted in the order of time. We begin at the founder of a family, and proceed from him to his deſcendents. But in deſcribing a lofty oak, we begin with the trunk, and aſcend to the branches.

When force and livelineſs of expreſſion are aimed at, the rule is, to ſuſpend the thought as much as poſſible, and to bring it out full and entire at the cloſe. This cannot be done but by inverting the natu⯑ral arrangement, and by introducing a word or member before its time. By ſuch in⯑verſion our curioſity is raiſed about what is [325] to follow; and it is agreeable to have our curioſity gratified at the cloſe of the period. Such arrangement produceth on the mind an effect ſimilar to a ſtroke exerted upon the body by the whole collected force of the agent. On the other hand, where a pe⯑riod is ſo conſtructed as to admit more than one complete cloſe in the ſenſe, the curioſity of the reader is exhauſted at the firſt cloſe, and what follows appears languid or ſuper⯑fluous. His diſappointment contributes al⯑ſo to this appearance, when he finds, that, contrary to his expectation, the period is not yet finiſhed. Cicero, and after him Quintilian, recommend the verb to the laſt place. This method evidently tends to ſuſpend the ſenſe till the cloſe of the pe⯑riod; for without the verb the ſenſe can⯑not be complete. And when the verb happens to be the capital word, which is frequently the caſe, it ought at any rate to be put laſt, according to another rule, above laid down. I proceed as uſual to illuſtrate this rule by examples. The following pe⯑riod is placed in its natural order. ‘[326] Were inſtruction an eſſential circumſtance in epic poetry, I doubt whether a ſingle inſtance could be given of this ſpecies of compoſition, in any lan⯑guage.’ The period thus arranged admits a full cloſe upon the word compoſition; after which it goes on languidly, and cloſes without force. This blemiſh will be avoided by the following arrangement. ‘Were inſtruction an eſſential circumſtance in epic poetry, I doubt whether, in any language, a ſingle inſtance could be given of this ſpecies of compoſi⯑tion.’ ‘Some of our moſt eminent divines have made uſe of this Platonic notion, as far as it regards the ſubſiſtence of our paſſions after death, with great beauty and ſtrength of reaſon. Spectator, N^o 90.’ Better thus: ‘Some of our moſt eminent divines have, with great beauty and ſtrength of reaſon, made uſe of this Platonic notion, &c.’ ‘Men of the beſt ſenſe have been touched, more [237] or leſs, with theſe groundleſs horrors and preſages of futurity, upon ſurveying the moſt indifferent works of nature. Spectator, N^o 505.’ Better: ‘Upon ſurveying the moſt indifferent works of nature, men of the beſt ſenſe, &c.’ ‘She ſoon informed him of the place he was in, which, notwithſtanding all its horrors, appeared to him more ſweet than the bower of Mahomet, in the company of his Balſora. Guardian, N^o 167.’ Better: ‘She ſoon, &c. appeared to him, in the compa⯑ny of his Balſora, more ſweet, &c.’ ‘The Emperor was ſo intent on the eſtabliſhment of his abſolute power in Hungary, that he expo⯑ſed the Empire doubly to deſolation and ruin for the ſake of it. Letters on hiſtory, vol. 1. let. 7. Bolingbroke.’ Better: ‘—that for the ſake of it he expoſed the Empire doubly to deſolation and ruin.’

[328] None of the rules for the compoſition of periods are more liable to be abuſed, than thoſe laſt mentioned: witneſs many Latin writers, among the moderns eſpecially, whoſe ſtyle, by inverſions too violent, is rendered harſh and obſcure. Suſpenſion of the thought till the cloſe of the period, ought never to be preferred before perſpi⯑cuity. Neither ought ſuch ſuſpenſion to be attempted in a long period; becauſe in that caſe the mind is bewildered among a profuſion of words. A traveller, while he is puzzled about the road, reliſhes not the fineſt proſpects.‘All the rich preſents which Aſtyages had given him at parting, keeping only ſome Median horſes, in order to propagate the breed of them in Perſia, he diſtributed among his friends whom he left at the court of Ecbatana. Travels of Cyrus, book 1.’

The foregoing rules concern the arrange⯑ment of a ſingle period. I ſhall add one rule more concerning the diſtribution of a diſcourſe into different periods. A ſhort period is lively and familiar. A long pe⯑riod, [329] requiring more attention, makes an impreſſion grave and ſolemn. In general, a writer ought to ſtudy a mixture of long and ſhort periods, which prevents an irk⯑ſome uniformity, and entertains the mind with variety of impreſſions. In particular, long periods ought to be avoided till the reader's attention be thoroughly engaged; and therefore a diſcourſe, eſpecially of the familiar kind, ought never to be introduced with a long period. For that reaſon, the commencement of a letter to a very young lady on her marriage is faulty. ‘Madam, The hurry and impertinence of recei⯑ving and paying viſits on account of your marriage, being now over, you are beginning to enter into a courſe of life, where you will want much advice to divert you from falling into many errors, foppe⯑ries, and follies, to which your ſex is ſubject. Swift.’ See a ſtronger example in the commence⯑ment of Cicero's oration, Pro Archia poeta.

Before we proceed farther, it may be proper to take a review of the rules laid [330] down in this and the preceding ſection, in order to make ſome general obſervations. The natural order of the words and mem⯑bers of a period, is undoubtedly the ſame with the natural order of the ideas that compoſe the thought. The tendency of many of the foregoing rules, is to ſubſtitute an artificial arrangement, in order to reach ſome beauty either of ſound or meaning that cannot be reached in the natural or⯑der. But ſeldom it happens, that in the ſame period there is place for a plurality of theſe rules. If one beauty can be catched, another muſt be relinquiſhed. The only queſtion is, Which ought to be preferred? This is a queſtion that cannot be reſolved by any general rule. But practice, ſup⯑ported by a good taſte, will in moſt inſtan⯑ces make the choice eaſy. The component words and members of a period, are aſcer⯑tained by the ſubject. If the natural order be not reliſhed, a few trials will diſcover that artificial order which has the beſt effect. All that can be ſaid in general is, that in making a choice, ſound ought to yield to ſignification.

[331] The tranſpoſing words and members out of their natural order, ſo remarkable in the learned languages, has been the ſubject of much ſpeculation. It is agreed on all hands, that ſuch tranſpoſition or inverſion beſtows upon a period a very ſenſible degree of force and elevation; and yet writers ſeem to be at a loſs in what manner to account for this effect. Cerçeau^* aſcribes ſo much power to inverſion, as to make it the characteriſtic of French verſe, and the ſingle circumſtance which in that language diſtinguiſhes verſe from proſe. And yet he pretends not to ſay, that it hath any other power but to raiſe ſurpriſe; he muſt mean curioſity; which is done by ſuſpending the thought during the period, and bringing it out en⯑tire at the cloſe. This indeed is one power of inverſion; but neither its ſole power, nor even that which is the moſt remarkable, as is made plain above. But waving cenſure, which is not an agreeable taſk, I enter into the matter. And I begin with obſerving, that if a conformity betwixt words and their [332] meaning be agreeable, it muſt of courſe be agreeable to find the ſame order or ar⯑rangement in both. Hence the beauty of a plain or natural ſtyle, where the order of the words correſponds preciſely to the order of the ideas. Nor is this the ſingle beauty of a natural ſtyle: it is alſo agreeable upon account of its ſimplicity and perſpicuity. This obſervation throws light upon the ſubject. For if a natural ſtyle be in itſelf agreeable, a tranſpoſed ſtyle cannot be ſo. And therefore, it cannot otherwiſe be a⯑greeable, but as contributing to ſome poſi⯑tive beauty which is excluded in a natural ſtyle. To be confirmed in this opinion, we need but reflect upon ſome of the fore⯑going rules, which make it evident, that language, by means of inverſion, is ſuſcep⯑tible of many beauties that are totally ex⯑cluded in a natural arrangement of words. From theſe premiſſes it clearly follows, that inverſion ought not to be indulged, un⯑leſs in order to reach ſome beauty ſupe⯑rior to that of a natural ſtyle. It may with great certainty be pronounced, that every inverſion which is not governed by [333] this rule, will appear harſh and ſtrained, and be diſreliſhed by every one of taſte. Hence the beauty of inverſion when happily conducted; the beauty, not of an end, but of means, as furniſhing opportunity for num⯑berleſs ornaments that find no place in a natu⯑ral ſtyle. Hence the force, the elevation, the harmony, the cadence, of ſome compoſi⯑tions. Hence the manifold beauties of the Greek and Roman tongues, of which li⯑ving languages afford but faint imitations.

SECT. III. Beauty of language from a reſemblance betwixt ſound and ſignification.

THE reſemblance betwixt the ſound and ſignification of certain words, is a beauty, which has eſcaped no critical wri⯑ter, and yet is not handled with accuracy by any of them. They have probably been erroneouſly of opinion, that a beauty ſo obvious in the feeling, requires no ex⯑planation [334] in the underſtanding. In order to ſupply this defect, I ſhall give examples of the various reſemblances betwixt ſound and ſignification; and at the ſame time ſhall endeavour to explain why ſuch reſem⯑blances are beautiful. I begin with exam⯑ples where the reſemblance betwixt the ſound and ſignification is the moſt entire; proceeding to others, where the reſem⯑blance is leſs and leſs ſo.

There being frequently a ſtrong reſem⯑blance betwixt different ſounds, it will not be ſurpriſing to find a natural ſound imita⯑ted by one that is articulate. Thus the ſound of a bow-ſtring is imitated by the words that expreſs it.

The ſound of felling trees in a wood:

No perſon can be at a loſs about the cauſe of this beauty. It is obviouſly that of imi⯑tation.

That there is any other natural reſem⯑blance betwixt ſound and ſignification, muſt not be taken for granted. There is evidently no reſemblance betwixt ſound and motion, nor betwixt ſound and ſentiment. In this matter, we are apt to be deceived by artful reading or pronouncing. The ſame paſſage may be pronounced in many different tones, elevated or humble, ſweet or harſh, briſk or melancholy, ſo as to accord with the thought or ſentiment. Such concord, de⯑pending on artful pronunciation, muſt be diſtinguiſhed from that concord betwixt ſound and ſenſe, which is perceived in ſome expreſſions independent of artful pronun⯑ciation. [336] The latter is the poet's work: the former muſt be attributed to the reader. Another thing contributes ſtill more to the deceit. In language, ſound and ſenſe are ſo intimately connected, as that the proper⯑ties of the one are readily communicated to the other. An emotion of grandeur, of ſweetneſs, of melancholy, or of compaſſion, though occaſioned by the thought ſolely, is transferred upon the words, which by that means reſemble in appearance the thought that is expreſſed by them^*. I have great reaſon to recommend theſe obſervations to my reader, conſidering how inaccurately the preſent ſubject is handled by critics. Not one of them diſtinguiſhes the natural re⯑ſemblance of ſound and ſignification, from the artificial reſemblance now deſcribed. Witneſs Vida in particular, who in a very long paſſage has given very few examples, but what are of the latter kind^†.

That there may be a reſemblance betwixt natural and artificial ſounds, is ſelf-evident; [337] and that in fact there exiſt ſuch reſemblances ſucceſsfully employ'd by writers of genius, is clear from the foregoing examples, and many others that might be given. But we may ſafely pronounce, that this natural re⯑ſemblance can be carried no farther. The objects of the ſeveral ſenſes, differ ſo widely from each other as to exclude any reſem⯑blance. Sound in particular, whether arti⯑culate or inarticulate, reſembles not in any degree taſte, ſmell, or motion; and as little can it reſemble any internal ſentiment, feel⯑ing, or emotion. But muſt we then agree, that nothing but natural ſound can be imi⯑tated by that which is articulate? Taking imitation in its proper ſenſe, as involving a reſemblance betwixt two objects, the pro⯑poſition muſt be admitted. And yet in ma⯑ny paſſages that are not deſcriptive of natu⯑ral ſound, every one muſt be ſenſible of a peculiar concord betwixt the ſound of the words and their meaning. As there can be no doubt of the fact, what remains is, to in⯑quire into its cauſe.

Reſembling cauſes may produce effects that have no reſemblance; and cauſes that [338] have no reſemblance may produce reſem⯑bling effects. A magnificent building, for example, reſembles not in any degree an he⯑roic action; and yet the emotions they pro⯑duce, being concordant, bear a reſemblance to each other. We are ſtill more ſenſible of this reſemblance, in a ſong where the muſic is properly adjuſted to the ſentiment. There is no reſemblance betwixt thought and ſound; but there is the ſtrongeſt reſem⯑blance betwixt the emotion raiſed by muſic tender and pathetic, and that raiſed by the complaint of an unſucceſsful lover. To ap⯑ply theſe examples to the preſent ſubject, I obſerve, that the ſound even of a ſingle word makes, in ſome inſtances, an impreſſion reſembling that which is made by the thing it ſignifies; witneſs the word running, com⯑poſed of two ſhort ſyllables; and more re⯑markably the words rapidity, impetuoſity, precipitation. Brutal manners produce in the ſpectator, an emotion not unlike what is produced by a harſh and rough ſound. Hence the figurative expreſſion, rugged manners; an expreſſion peculiarly agreeable by the relation of the ſound to the ſenſe. [339] Again, the word little, being pronounced with a very ſmall aperture of the mouth, has a weak and faint ſound, which makes an impreſſion reſembling that made by any diminutive object. This reſemblance of ef⯑fects, is ſtill more remarkable where a num⯑ber of words are connected together in a period. Words pronounced in ſucceſſion make often a ſtrong impreſſion; and when this impreſſion happens to accord with that made by the ſenſe, a peculiar pleaſure ariſes. The thought or ſentiment produces one pleaſant emotion: the melody or tone of the words produces another. But the chief pleaſure proceeds from having theſe two concordant emotions combined in perfect harmony, and carried on in the mind to a full cloſe^*. Ex⯑cept in the ſingle caſe where ſound is de⯑ſcribed, all the examples given by critics of ſenſe being imitated in ſound, reſolve into a reſemblance of effects. Emotions raiſed by ſound and ſignification may have a re⯑ſemblance; but ſound itſelf cannot have a reſemblance to any thing but ſound.

[340] Proceeding now to particulars, and be⯑ginning with thoſe caſes where the emo⯑tions have the ſtrongeſt reſemblance, I ob⯑ſerve, firſt, That in pronouncing a number of ſyllables in ſucceſſion, an emotion is ſometimes raiſed extremely ſimilar to that raiſed by ſucceſſive motion. This may be made evident even to thoſe who are defective in taſte, by the following fact, that the term movement in all languages is equally apply'd to both. In this manner, ſucceſſive mo⯑tion, ſuch as walking, running, galloping, can be imitated by a ſucceſſion of long or ſhort ſyllables, or by a due mixture of both. For example, ſlow motion may be aptly imitated in a verſe where long ſyllables pre⯑vail; eſpecially when aided by a ſlow pro⯑nunciation: ‘Illi inter ſeſe magnâ vi brachia tollunt. Georg. iv. 174.’

On the other hand, ſwift motion is imi⯑tated by a ſucceſſion of ſhort ſyllables: ‘Quadrupedante putrem ſonitu quatit ungula cam⯑pum.’ [341] Again: ‘Radit iter liquidum, celeres neque commovet alas.’

Thirdly, a line compoſed of monoſyl⯑lables, makes an impreſſion, by the frequen⯑cy of its pauſes, ſimilar to what is made by laborious interrupted motion:

Fourthly, the impreſſion made by rough ſounds in ſucceſſion, reſembles that made by rough or tumultuous motion. On the other hand, the impreſſion of ſmooth ſounds reſembles that of gentle motion. The fol⯑lowing is an example of both.

Another example of the latter:

Fifthly, prolonged motion is expreſſed in an Alexandrine line. The firſt exam⯑ple ſhall be of ſlow motion prolonged:

The next example is of forcible motion pro⯑longed:

The laſt ſhall be of rapid motion prolonged:

Again, ſpeaking of a rock torn from the brow of a mountain,

Sixthly, a period conſiſting moſtly of long ſyllables, that is, of ſyllables pronounced ſlow, produceth an emotion reſembling faintly that which is produced by gravity and ſolemnity. Hence the beauty of the following verſe.‘Olli ſedato reſpondit corde Latinus.’

Seventhly, a ſlow ſucceſſion of ideas is a circumſtance that belongs equally to ſettled melancholy, and to a period compoſed of polyſyllables pronounced ſlow. Hence, by ſimilarity of emotions, the latter is imitative of the former:

Eighthly, a long ſyllable made ſhort, or a ſhort ſyllable made long, raiſes, by the diffi⯑culty of pronouncing contrary to cuſtom, a feeling ſimilar to that of hard labour:

Ninthly, harſh or rough words pronoun⯑ced with difficulty, excite a feeling reſem⯑bling that which proceeds from the labour of thought to a dull writer:

I ſhall cloſe with one other example, which of all makes the fineſt figure. In the firſt ſection mention is made of a climax in ſound, and in the ſecond of a climax in [345] ſenſe. It belongs to the preſent ſubject to obſerve, that when theſe coincide in the ſame paſſage, the concordance of ſound and ſenſe is delightful. The reader is conſcious not only of pleaſure from the two climaxes ſeparately, but of an additional pleaſure from their concordance, and from finding the ſenſe ſo juſtly imitated by the ſound. In this reſpect, no periods are more perfect than thoſe borrowed from Cicero in the firſt ſec⯑tion.

The concord betwixt ſenſe and ſound is not leſs agreeable in what may be termed an anticlimax, where the progreſs is from great to little; for this has the effect to make di⯑minutive objects appear ſtill more diminu⯑tive. Horace affords a ſtriking example: ‘Parturiunt montes, naſcetur ridiculus mus.’ The arrangement here is ſingularly artful. The firſt place is occupied by the verb, which is the capital word by its ſenſe as well as ſound. The cloſe is reſerved for the word that is the meaneſt in ſenſe as well as in ſound. And it muſt not be overlooked, [346] that the reſembling ſounds of the two laſt ſyllables give a ludicrous air to the whole.

Reviewing the foregoing examples, it ap⯑pears to me, contrary to expectation, that in paſſing from the ſtrongeſt reſemblances to thoſe that are fainter, the pleaſure riſes gradually in proportion. Can this be ac⯑counted for? or ſhall I renounce my taſte as capricious? When I renew the experi⯑ment again and again, I feel no wavering, but the greateſt pleaſure conſtantly from the fainteſt reſemblances. And yet how can this be? for if the pleaſure lie in imitation, muſt not the ſtrongeſt reſemblance afford the greateſt pleaſure? From this vexing dilemma, I am happily relieved, by reflect⯑ing on a doctrine eſtabliſhed in the chapter of reſemblance and contraſt, that the plea⯑ſure of reſemblance is the greateſt, where it is leaſt expected, and where the objects compared are in their capital circumſtances widely different. Nor will this appear ſur⯑priſing, when we deſcend to familiar exam⯑ples. It raiſeth not wonder in the ſmalleſt degree, to find the moſt perfect reſemblance betwixt two eggs of the ſame animal. It is [347] more rare to find ſuch reſemblance betwixt two human faces; and upon that account ſuch an appearance raiſes ſome degree of wonder. But this emotion riſes to a ſtill greater height, when we find in a pebble, an aggat, or any natural production, a per⯑fect reſemblance to a tree or other organi⯑ſed body. We cannot heſitate a moment, in applying theſe obſervations to the preſent ſubject. What occaſion of wonder can it be to find one ſound reſembling another, where both are of the ſame kind? It is not ſo common to find a reſemblance betwixt an articulate ſound and one not articulate; and accordingly the imitation here affords ſome ſlight pleaſure. But the pleaſure ſwells greatly, when we employ ſound to imitate things it reſembles not otherwiſe than by the effects produced in the mind.

I have had occaſion to obſerve, that to complete the reſemblance betwixt ſound and ſenſe, artful pronunciation contributes not a little. Pronunciation therefore may be conſidered as a branch of the preſent ſubject; and with ſome obſervations upon it I ſhall conclude the ſection.

[348] In order to give a juſt idea of pronuncia⯑tion, it muſt be diſtinguiſhed from ſinging. The latter is carried on by notes, requiring each of them a different aperture of the windpipe. The notes properly belonging to the former, are expreſſed by different a⯑pertures of the mouth, without varying the aperture of the windpipe. This however doth not hinder pronunciation to borrow from ſinging, as a man ſometimes is natu⯑rally led to do, in expreſſing a vehement paſſion.

In reading, as in ſinging, there is a key-note. Above this note the voice is fre⯑quently elevated, to make the ſound corre⯑ſpond to the elevation of the ſubject. But the mind in an elevated ſtate, is diſpoſed to action. Therefore in order to a reſt, it muſt be brought down to the key-note. Hence the term cadence.

The only general rule that can be given for directing the pronunciation, is, To ſound the words in ſuch a manner as to imitate the things they repreſent, or of which they are the ſymbols. The ideas which make the greateſt figure, ought to be expreſſed [349] with a peculiar emphaſis. In expreſſing an elevated ſubject, the voice ought to be rai⯑ſed above its ordinary pitch; and words ſignifying dejection of mind, ought to be pronounced in a low note. A ſucceſſion of ſounds gradually aſcending from low to high notes, repreſents an aſcending ſeries of objects. An oppoſite ſucceſſion of ſounds, is fitted for objects or ſentiments that deſcend gradually. In Dryden's ode of Alexander's feaſt, the line, Faln, faln, faln, faln, ought to be pronounced with a falling voice; and is pronounced in that manner, by every one of taſte, without in⯑ſtruction. Another circumſtance contri⯑butes to the reſemblance betwixt ſenſe and ſound, which is ſlow or quick pronuncia⯑tion. For though the length or ſhortneſs of the ſyllables with relation to each other, be in proſe aſcertained in ſome meaſure, and in verſe always; yet taking a whole line or period together, it is arbitrary to pronounce it ſlow or faſt. Hence it is, that a period expreſſing what is ſolemn or deli⯑berate, ought to be pronounced ſlow; and ought to be pronounced quick, when it ex⯑preſſes [350] any thing briſk, lively, or impe⯑tuous.

The art of pronouncing with propriety and grace, being calculated to make the ſound an echo to the ſenſe, ſcarce admits of any other general rule than that above mentioned. This rule may indeed be branched out into many particular rules and obſervations: but theſe belong not properly to the preſent undertaking, becauſe they cannot be explained in words. We have not words to ſignify the different degrees of high and low, loud and ſoft, faſt and ſlow; and before theſe differences can be made the ſubject of regular inſtruction, notes muſt be invented reſembling thoſe employ'd in muſic. We have reaſon to believe, that in Greece every tragedy was accompanied with ſuch notes, in order to aſcertain the pronunciation. But the moderns hitherto have not thought of this refinement. Ci⯑cero indeed^*, without the help of notes, pretends to give rules for aſcertaining the ſeveral tones of voice that are proper in ex⯑preſſing [351] the ſeveral paſſions; and it muſt be acknowledged, that in this attempt he has exhauſted the whole power of lan⯑guage. At the ſame time, every perſon of judgement muſt ſee, that theſe rules a⯑vail little in point of inſtruction. The very words he employs, are ſcarce intelli⯑gible, except to thoſe who beforehand are acquainted with the ſubject.

To vary the ſcene a little, I propoſe to cloſe with a ſlight compariſon betwixt ſing⯑ing and pronouncing. In this compariſon the five following circumſtances relative to articulate ſound, muſt be kept in view. 1ſt, It is harſh or ſmooth. 2d, A ſound or ſyllable, is long or ſhort. 3d, It is pronounced high or low. 4th, It is pro⯑nounced loud or ſoft. And, laſtly, a num⯑ber of words in ſucceſſion conſtituting a pe⯑riod or member of a period, are pronoun⯑ced ſlow or quick. Of theſe five, the firſt depending on the component letters, and the ſecond being aſcertained by cuſtom, admit not any variety in pronouncing. The three laſt are arbitrary, depending on the will of the perſon who pronounces; [352] and it is chiefly in the artful management of theſe, that juſt pronunciation conſiſts. With reſpect to the firſt circumſtance, mu⯑ſic has evidently the advantage; for all its notes are agreeable to the ear, which is not always the caſe of articulate ſound. With reſpect to the ſecond, long and ſhort ſyl⯑lables variouſly combined, produce a great variety of feet; yet far inferior to the varie⯑ty which is found in the multiplied com⯑binations of muſical notes. With reſpect to high and low notes, pronunciation is ſtill more inferior to ſinging. For it it obſer⯑ved by Dionyſius of Halicarnaſſus^*, that in pronouncing, i. e. without altering the aperture of the windpipe, the voice is con⯑fined within three notes and a half. Sing⯑ing has a much greater compaſs. With reſpect to the two laſt circumſtances, pro⯑nunciation equals ſinging.

In this diſcourſe, I have mentioned none of the beauties of language, but what ariſe [353] from words taken in their proper ſenſe. Thoſe beauties that depend on the meta⯑phorical and figurative power of words, are reſerved to be treated in chap. 20.

SECT. IV. VERSIFICATION.

THE muſic of verſe, though handled by every grammarian, merits more attention than has been given it. The ſub⯑ject is intimately connected with human nature; and to explain it thoroughly, ſeve⯑ral nice and delicate feelings muſt be em⯑ploy'd. Entering upon this ſubject, it oc⯑curs as a preliminary point, By what mark is verſe diſtinguiſhed from proſe? The diſ⯑cuſſion of this point is neceſſary, were it for no other purpoſe but to aſcertain the nature and limits of our ſubject. To produce this diſtinguiſhing mark, is a taſk not perhaps ſo eaſy as may at firſt be apprehended. Verſe of every ſort, has, it is true, rules for [354] its conſtruction. It is compoſed of feet, the number and variety of which are aſcer⯑tained. Proſe, though alſo compoſed of feet, is more looſe and ſcarce ſubjected to any rules. But many are ignorant of theſe rules: Are ſuch left without means to make the diſtinction? And even with reſpect to the learned, muſt they apply the rule be⯑fore they can with certainty pronounce whether the compoſition be proſe or verſe? This will hardly be maintained; and there⯑fore, inſtead of rules, the ear muſt be ap⯑pealed to as the proper judge. But what gain we by being thus referred to another ſtandard? It ſtill recurs, by what mark does the ear diſtinguiſh verſe from proſe? The proper and ſatisfactory anſwer is, That theſe make different impreſſions, which are readily diſtinguiſhable by every one who hath an ear. This advances us one ſtep in our inquiry.

Taking it then for granted, that verſe makes upon the ear a different impreſſion from that of proſe; nothing remains but to explain this difference, and to aſſign its cauſe. To theſe ends, I muſt call to my [355] aid an obſervation made above in treating of the ſound of words, that they are more agreeable to the ear when compoſed of long and ſhort ſyllables than when all the ſylla⯑bles are of the ſame ſort. A continued ſound in the ſame tone, makes an impreſ⯑ſion that comes not up to any idea we have of muſic. The ſame note ſucceſſively re⯑newed by intervals, is more agreeable; but ſtill makes not a muſical impreſſion. To produce this impreſſion, variety is neceſſary as well as number. The ſucceſſive ſounds or ſyllables, muſt be ſome of them long, ſome of them ſhort; and if alſo high and low, the muſic is the more perfect. Now if this impreſſion can be made by ſingle words, much more by a plurality in an or⯑derly ſucceſſion. The muſical impreſſion made by a period conſiſting of long and ſhort ſyllables arranged in a certain order, is what the Greeks call rhythmus, the La⯑tins, numerus, and we modulation or mea⯑ſure. Cicero juſtly obſerves, that in one continued ſound there is no modulation: ‘"Numerus in continuatione nullus eſt."’ But in what follows he is wide of the truth, [356] if by numerus he means modulation or mu⯑ſical meaſure. ‘"Diſtinctio, et aequalium et ſaepe variorum intervallorum percuſſio, numerum conficit; quem in cadentibus guttis, quod intervallis diſtinguuntur, notare poſſumus."’ Falling drops, whe⯑ther with equal or unequal intervals, are certainly not muſical. We begin then only to be ſenſible of a muſical expreſſion, when the notes are varied. And this alſo was probably the opinion of the author ci⯑ted, though his expreſſion be a little un⯑guarded^*.

It will probably occur, that modulation, ſo far as connected with long and ſhort ſyllables combined in a ſentence, may be found in proſe as well as in verſe; conſi⯑dering eſpecially, that in both, particular words are accented or pronounced in a [357] higher tone than ordinary; and therefore that the difference betwixt them cannot conſiſt in modulation merely. The obſer⯑vation is juſt; and it follows, that the diſ⯑tinction betwixt proſe and verſe, ſince it depends not on modulation merely, muſt ariſe from the difference of the modula⯑tion. This is preciſely the caſe, though the difference cannot with any accuracy be explained in words. Verſe is more muſi⯑cal than proſe; and of the former, the modulation is more perfect than of the latter. The difference betwixt verſe and proſe, re⯑ſembles the difference in muſic properly ſo called betwixt the ſong and the recitative. And the reſemblance is not the leſs com⯑plete, that theſe differences, like the ſhades of colours, approximate ſometimes ſo near⯑ly as ſcarce to be diſcernible. A recitative in its movement approaches ſometimes to the livelineſs of a ſong; which on the o⯑ther hand degenerates ſometimes toward a plain recitative. Nothing is more diſtin⯑guiſhable from proſe, than the bulk of Virgil's hexameters. Many of thoſe com⯑poſed [358] by Horace, are very little removed from proſe. Sapphic verſe has a very ſen⯑ſible modulation. That on the other hand of an Iambic, is extremely faint^*.

This more perfect modulation of articu⯑late ſounds, is what diſtinguiſheth verſe from proſe. Verſe is ſubjected to certain inflex⯑ible laws. The number and variety of the component ſyllables are aſcertained, and in ſome meaſure the order of ſucceſſion. Such reſtraint makes it a matter of difficulty to compoſe in verſe; a difficulty that is not to be ſurmounted but by a ſingular genius. Uſeful leſſons of every ſort convey'd to us in verſe, are agreeable by the union of mu⯑ſic with inſtruction. But are we for that reaſon to reject knowledge offered in a plain⯑er dreſs? This would be ridiculous; for knowledge may be acquired without muſic, and muſic is entertaining independent of knowledge. Many there are, not leſs will⯑ing [359] than capable to inſtruct us, who have no genius for verſe. Hence the uſe of proſe, which, for the reaſon now given, is not confined to preciſe rules. There belongs to it, a certain modulation of an inferior kind, which, being extremely ornamental, ought to be the aim of every writer. But to ſucceed in it, practice is neceſſary more than genius. Nor are we rigid on this article. Provided the work anſwer its chief end of inſtruction, we are the leſs ſolicitous about its dreſs.

Having aſcertained the nature and limits of our ſubject, I proceed to the laws by which it is regulated. Theſe would be endleſs, were verſe of all different kinds to be taken under conſideration. I propoſe therefore to confine the inquiry, to Latin or Greek hexameter, and to French and Eng⯑liſh heroic verſe; which perhaps will carry me farther than the reader may chuſe to fol⯑low. The obſervations I ſhall have occa⯑ſion to make, will at any rate be ſufficient for a ſpecimen; and theſe with proper va⯑riations may eaſily be transferred to the compoſition of other ſorts of verſe.

Before I enter upon particulars, it muſt [360] be premiſed in general, that to verſe of eve⯑ry kind, five things are of importance. 1ſt, The number of ſyllables that compoſe a verſe. 2d, The different lengths of ſyl⯑lables, i. e. the difference of time taken in pronouncing. 3d, The arrangement of theſe ſyllables combined in words. 4th, The pauſes or ſtops in pronouncing. 5th, Pronouncing ſyllables in a high or low tone. The three firſt mentioned are obviouſly eſ⯑ſential to verſe. If any of them be wanting, there cannot be that higher degree of mo⯑dulation which diſtinguiſheth verſe from proſe. To give a juſt notion of the fourth, it muſt be obſerved, that pauſes are neceſ⯑ſary for three different purpoſes. One is, to ſeparate periods and members of the ſame period according to the ſenſe: another is, to improve the modulation of verſe: and the laſt is, to afford opportunity for drawing breath in reading. A pauſe of the firſt kind is variable, being long or ſhort, frequent or leſs frequent, as the ſenſe requires. A pauſe of the ſecond kind, is in no degree arbitrary; its place being determined by the modulation. The laſt ſort again is in a [361] meaſure arbitrary, depending on the read⯑er's command of breath. This ſort ought always to coincide with the firſt or ſecond; for one cannot read with grace, unleſs, for drawing breath, opportunity be taken of a pauſe in the ſenſe or in the melody; and for that reaſon this pauſe may be neglected. With reſpect then to the pauſes of ſenſe and of melody, it may be affirmed without he⯑ſitation, that their coincidence in verſe is a capital beauty. But as it cannot be expect⯑ed, in a long work eſpecially, that every line ſhould be ſo perfect; we ſhall after⯑ward have occaſion to ſee, that the pauſe neceſſary for ſenſe muſt often, in ſome de⯑gree, be ſacrificed to the verſe-pauſe; and the latter ſometimes to the former.

The pronouncing ſyllables in a high or low tone, contributes alſo to melody. In reading, whether verſe or proſe, a certain tone is aſſumed, which may be called the key-note; and in this tone the bulk of the words are ſounded. Sometimes to humour the ſenſe and ſometimes the melody, a parti⯑cular ſyllable is ſounded in a higher tone; and this is termed accenting a ſyllable, or gracing [362] it with an accent. Oppoſed to the accent, is the cadence, which I have not mentioned as one of the requiſites of verſe, becauſe it is entirely regulated by the ſenſe, and hath no peculiar relation to verſe. The cadence is a falling of the voice below the key-note at the cloſe of every period; and ſo little is it eſſential to verſe, that in correct reading the final ſyllable of every line is accent⯑ed, that ſyllable only excepted which cloſes the period, where the ſenſe requires a cadence. The reader may be ſatisfied of this by experiments; and for that purpoſe I recommend to him the Rape of the Lock, which, in point of verſification, is the moſt complete performance in the Engliſh lan⯑guage. Let him conſult in particular a pe⯑riod canto 2. beginning at line 47. and cloſed line 52. with the word gay, which only of the whole final ſyllables is pronoun⯑ced with a cadence. He may alſo examine another period in the 5th canto, which runs from line 45. to line 52.

Though the five requiſites above mention⯑ed, enter the compoſition of every ſpecies of verſe, they are however governed by differ⯑ent [363] rules, peculiar to each ſpecies. Upon quantity only, one general obſervation may be premiſed, becauſe it is applicable to eve⯑ry ſpecies of verſe. Syllables, with reſpect to the time taken in pronouncing, are diſtin⯑guiſhed into long and ſhort; two ſhort ſyl⯑lables, with reſpect to time, being preciſely equal to one long. Theſe two lengths are eſſential to verſe of all kinds; and to no verſe, ſo far as I know, is a greater variety of time neceſſary in pronouncing ſyllables. The voice indeed is frequently made to reſt longer than commonly, upon a word that bears an important ſignification. But this is done to humour the ſenſe, and is not ne⯑ceſſary for the modulation. A thing not more neceſſary occurs with reſpect to ac⯑centing, ſimilar to that now mentioned. A word ſignifying any thing humble, low, or dejected, is naturally, in proſe as well as in verſe, pronounced in a tone below the key⯑note.

We are now ſufficiently prepared for en⯑tering upon particulars; and Latin or Greek Hexameter, which are the ſame, coming firſt in order, I ſhall exhauſt what I have to [364] ſay upon this ſpecies of verſe, under the four following heads; of number, arrange⯑ment, pauſe, and accent; for as to quanti⯑ty, ſo far as concerns the preſent point, what is obſerved above may ſuffice.

Hexameter lines are, with reſpect to time, all of the ſame length. A line may conſiſt of ſeventeen ſyllables; and when regular and not Spondaic, it never has fewer than thirteen. Hence it is plain, that where the ſyllables are many, the plurality muſt be ſhort; where few, the plurality muſt be long. And upon the whole, the number of ſyllables in every line with reſpect to the time taken in pronouncing, are equivalent to twelve long ſyllables, or twenty-four ſhort.

With regard to arrangement, this line is ſuſceptible of much variety. The ſucceſſion of long and ſhort ſyllables, may be great⯑ly varied without injuring the melody. It is ſubjected however to laws, that confine its variety within certain limits. For trying the arrangement, and for determining whe⯑ther it be perfect or faulty, grammarians have invented a rule by Dactyles and Spon⯑dees, [365] which they denominate feet. One at firſt view is led to think, that theſe feet are alſo intended to regulate the pronunciation. But this is far from being the caſe. It will appear by and by, that the rules of pronun⯑ciation are very different. And indeed were one to pronounce according to theſe feet, the melody of a Hexameter line would be deſtroy'd, or at beſt be much inferior to what it is when properly pronounced^*. Theſe feet then muſt be confined to their [366] ſole province of regulating the arrangement, for they ſerve no other purpoſe. They are withal ſo artificial and complex, that, neg⯑lecting them altogether, I am tempted to ſubſtitute in their room, other rules, more ſimple and of more eaſy application; for example, the following. 1ſt, The line muſt always commence with a long ſyllable, and cloſe with two long preceded by two ſhort. 2d, More than two ſhort can never be [367] found in any part of the line, nor fewer than two if any. And, 3d, Two long ſyl⯑lables which have been preceded by two ſhort, cannot alſo be followed by two ſhort. Theſe few rules fulfil all the conditions of a Hexameter line, with relation to order or arrangement. To theſe again a ſingle rule may be ſubſtituted, for which I have a ſtill greater reliſh, as it regulates more affirma⯑tively the conſtruction of every part. That I may put this rule into words with the [368] greater facility, I take a hint from the twelve long ſyllables that compoſe an Hex⯑ameter line, to divide it into twelve equal parts or portions, being each of them one long ſyllable or two ſhort. This prelimi⯑nary being eſtabliſhed, the rule is ſhortly what follows. The 1ſt, 3d, 5th, 7th, 9th, 11th, and 12th portions, muſt each of them be one long ſyllable; the 10th muſt always be two ſhort ſyllables; the 2d, 4th, 6th, and 8th, may indifferently be one long or two ſhort. Or to expreſs the thing ſtill more curtly, The 2d, 4th, 6th, and 8th portions may be one long ſyl⯑lable or two ſhort; the 10th muſt be two ſhort ſyllables; all the reſt muſt conſiſt of one long ſyllable. This fulfils all the con⯑ditions of an Hexameter line, and compre⯑hends all the combinations of Dactyles and Spondees that this line admits.

Next in order comes the pauſe. At the end of every Hexameter line, no ear but muſt be ſenſible of a complete cloſe or full pauſe. This effect is produced by the fol⯑lowing [369] means. Every line invariably is fi⯑niſhed with two long ſyllables preceded by two ſhort; a fine preparation for a full cloſe. Syllables pronounced ſlow, reſemble a ſlow and languid motion tending to reſt. The mind put in the ſame tone by the pronun⯑ciation, is naturally diſpoſed to a pauſe. And to this diſpoſition the two preceding ſhort ſyllables contribute; for theſe, by contraſt, make the ſlow pronunciation of the final ſyllables the more conſpicuous. Beſide this complete cloſe or full pauſe at the end, others are alſo requiſite for the ſake of me⯑lody. I diſcover two clearly, and perhaps there may be more. The longeſt and moſt remarkable, ſucceeds the 5th portion, ac⯑cording to the foregoing meaſure. The other, which being more faint, may be called the ſemipauſe, ſucceeds the 8th por⯑tion. So ſtriking is the pauſe firſt mention⯑ed, as to be diſtinguiſhed even by the rudeſt ear. The monkiſh rhymes are evi⯑dently built upon it. In theſe, it is an in⯑variable rule, to make the final word chime with that which immediately precedes the pauſe:

The difference of time in the pauſe and ſemipauſe, occaſions another difference not leſs remarkable. The pauſe ought regu⯑larly to be at the end of a word; but it is lawful to divide a word by a ſemipauſe. The bad effect of dividing a word by the pauſe, is ſenſibly felt in the following ex⯑amples.

Again,

Again,

The dividing a word by a ſemipauſe has not the ſame bad effect:

Again,

[371] Again,

Lines, however, where words are left entire to be pronounced as they ought to be, with⯑out being divided even by a ſemipauſe, run by that means much the more ſweetly.

Again,

Again,

The reaſon of theſe obſervations, will be e⯑vident upon the ſlighteſt reflection. Be⯑twixt things ſo intimately connected as ſenſe and ſound in pronunciation, to find diſ⯑cordance is unpleaſant to the ear; and for that reaſon, it is a matter of importance, to make the muſical pauſes coincide as much as poſſible with thoſe of the ſenſe. This is requiſite, more eſpecially, with reſpect [372] to the pauſe. A deviation from the rule is leſs remarkable in a ſemipauſe, which makes but a ſlight impreſſion. Conſi⯑dering the matter as to modulation ſolely, it is indifferent whether the pauſes be at the end of words or in the middle. But when we carry the ſenſe along, nothing is more diſagreeable than to find a word ſplit into two parts, neither of which ſeparately have any meaning. This bad effect, though it regard the ſenſe only, is by an eaſy tranſ⯑ition of ideas transferred to the ſound, with which the ſenſe is intimately connect⯑ed; and by this means, we conceive a line to be harſh and grating to the ear, which in reality is only ſo to the underſtanding^*.

To the rule which places the pauſe after the 5th portion, there is one exception, and no more. If the ſyllable ſucceeding the 5th portion be ſhort, the pauſe is ſometimes poſtponed to it:

[373] Again,

Again,

This contributes to diverſify the melody; and where the words are ſmooth and li⯑quid, is not ungraceful; as in the follow⯑ing examples.

Again,

If this pauſe, poſtponed as aforeſaid to the ſhort ſyllable, happen alſo to divide a word, the melody by theſe circumſtances is totally annihilated: witneſs the following line of Ennius, which is plain proſe.

Hitherto the arrangement of the long and ſhort ſyllables of an Hexameter line and [374] its different pauſes, have been conſidered with reſpect to melody. But to have a juſt notion of Hexameter verſe, theſe particulars muſt alſo be conſidered with reſpect to ſenſe. There is not perhaps in any other ſort of verſe, ſuch a latitude in the long and ſhort ſyllables. This circumſtance contributes greatly to that richneſs of modulation which is remarkable in Hexameter verſe; and which makes Ariſtotle pronounce, that an epic poem in any other ſort would not ſucceed^*. One defect however muſt not be diſſembled. The ſame means that con⯑tribute to the richneſs of the melody, ren⯑der it leſs fit than ſeveral other ſorts for a narrative poem. With regard to the melo⯑dy, as above obſerved, there cannot be a more artful contrivance than to cloſe an Hexameter line with two long ſyllables pre⯑ceded by two ſhort. But unhappily this conſtruction proves a great imbarraſſment to the ſenſe; as will be evident from what follows. As in general there ought to be a ſtrict concordance betwixt every thought [375] and the words in which it is dreſſed, ſo in particular, every cloſe in the ſenſe, com⯑plete and incomplete, ought to be accom⯑panied with a ſimilar cloſe in the ſound. In the compoſition of proſe, there is ſuffi⯑cient latitude for applying this rule in the ſtricteſt manner. But the ſame ſtrictneſs in verſe, would occaſion inſuperable difficul⯑ties. Some ſhare of the concordance be⯑twixt thought and expreſſion, may be juſt⯑ly ſacrificed to the melody of verſe; and therefore during the courſe of a line, we freely excuſe the want of coincidence of the muſical pauſe with that of the ſenſe. But the cloſe of an Hexameter line is too conſpicuous to admit a total neglect of this coincidence. And hence it follows, that there ought to be always ſome pauſe in the ſenſe at the end of every Hexameter line, were it but ſuch a pauſe as is marked with a comma. It follows alſo, for the ſame rea⯑ſon, that there ought never to be a full cloſe in the ſenſe but at the end of a line, becauſe there the modulation is cloſed. An Hexameter line, to preſerve its melody, cannot well permit any greater relaxation; [376] and yet in a narrative poem, it is extremely difficult to keep up to the rule even with theſe indulgences. Virgil, the greateſt poet for verſification that ever exiſted, is forc'd often to end a line without any cloſe in the ſenſe, and as often to cloſe the ſenſe during the running of a line: though a cloſe in the melody during the movement of the thought, or a cloſe in the thought during the movement of the melody, can⯑not fail to be diſagreeable.

The accent, to which we proceed, is not leſs eſſential than the other circumſtances a⯑bove handled. By a good ear it will be diſcerned, that in every line there is one ſyllable diſtinguiſhable from the reſt by a ſtrong accent. This ſyllable making the 7th portion, is invariably long; and in point of time occupies a place nearly at an equal diſtance from the pauſe which ſuc⯑ceeds the 5th portion, and the ſemipauſe, which ſucceeds the 8th:

[377] Again,

Again,

In theſe examples, the accent is laid upon the laſt ſyllable of a word. And that this is a favourable circumſtance for the melody, will appear from the following conſideration. In reading, there muſt be ſome pauſe after every word, to ſeparate it from what follows; and this pauſe, however ſhort, ſupports the accent. Hence it is, that a line thus accented, has a more ſpirited air, than where the accent is placed on any other ſyllable. Compare the fore⯑going lines with the following.

Again,

Again,

[378] In lines where the pauſe comes after the ſhort ſyllable ſucceeding the 5th portion, the accent is diſplaced and rendered leſs ſenſible. It ſeems to be ſplit into two, and to be laid partly on the 5th portion, and partly on the 7th, its uſual place; as in

Again,

Beſide this capital accent, ſlighter ac⯑cents are laid upon other portions; particu⯑larly upon the 4th, unleſs where it conſiſts of two ſhort ſyllables; upon the 9th, which is always a long ſyllable; and upon the 11th, where the line concludes with a mo⯑noſyllable. Such concluſion, by the by, leſſens the melody, and for that reaſon is not to be indulged unleſs where it is expreſ⯑ſive of the ſenſe. The following lines are marked with all the accents.

[379] Again,

Again,

Inquiring into the melody of Hexameter verſe, we ſoon diſcover, that order or ar⯑rangement doth not conſtitute the whole of it. Comparing different lines, equally re⯑gular as to the ſucceſſion of long and ſhort ſyllables, the melody is found in very differ⯑ent degrees of perfection. Nor does the difference ariſe from any particular combi⯑nation of Dactyles and Spondees, or of long and ſhort ſyllables. On the contrary, we find lines where Dactyles prevail and lines where Spondees prevail, equally melodious. Of the former take the following inſtance:

Of the latter:

What can be more different as to melody [380] than the two following lines, which, how⯑ever, as to the ſucceſſion of long and ſhort ſyllables, are conſtructed preciſely in the ſame manner?

In the former, the pauſe falls in the mid⯑dle of a word, which is a great blemiſh, and the accent is diſturbed by a harſh eliſion of the vowel a upon the particle et. In the latter the pauſes and the accent are all of them diſtinct and full: there is no eliſion: and the words are more liquid and ſound⯑ing. In theſe particulars conſiſts the beauty of an Hexameter line with reſpect to melo⯑dy; and by neglecting theſe, many lines in the Satires and Epiſtles of Horace are leſs agreeable than plain proſe; for they are neither the one nor the other in perfection. To make theſe lines ſound, they muſt be pronounced without relation to the ſenſe. It muſt not be regarded, that words are di⯑vided [381] by pauſes, nor that harſh eliſions are multiplied. To add to the account, proſaic low ſounding words are introduced; and which is ſtill worſe, accents are laid on them. Of ſuch faulty lines take the following in⯑ſtances.

Next in order comes Engliſh heroic verſe, which ſhall be examined under the whole five heads, of number, quantity, arrange⯑ment, pauſe, and accent. This verſe ſome⯑times employs rhymes and ſometimes not, which diſtinguiſhes it into two kinds; one named metre, and one blank verſe. In the former, the lines are connected two and two by ſimilarity of ſound in the final ſylla⯑bles; and ſuch connected lines are termed couplets. Similarity of ſound being avoided in the latter, baniſhes couplets. Theſe two ſorts muſt be handled ſeparately, becauſe there [382] are many peculiarities in each. The firſt article with reſpect to rhyme or metre, ſhall be diſcuſſed in a few words. Every line conſiſts of ten ſyllables, five ſhort and five long. There are but two exceptions, both of them rare. A couplet can bear to be drawn out, by adding a ſhort ſyllable at the end of each of the two lines:

This licence is ſufferable in a ſingle couplet; but if frequent would ſoon become diſguſt⯑ful.

The other exception concerns the ſecond line of a couplet, which is ſometimes ſtretched out to twelve ſyllables, termed an Alexandrine line.

[383] It doth extremely well when employ'd to cloſe a period with a certain pomp and ſo⯑lemnity ſuitable to the ſubject.

With regard to the ſecond article, it is un⯑neceſſary to mention a ſecond time, that the quantities employ'd in verſe are but two, the one double of the other; that every ſyl⯑lable is reducible to one or other of theſe ſtandards; and that a ſyllable of the larger quantity is termed long, and of the leſſer quantity ſhort. It belongs more to the preſent article, to examine what pecu⯑liarities there may be in the Engliſh lan⯑guage as to long and ſhort ſyllables. In every language, there are ſyllables that may be pronounced long or ſhort at pleaſure; but the Engliſh above all abounds in ſyllables of that kind. In words of three or more ſyllables, the quantity for the moſt part is invariable. The exceptions are more fre⯑quent in diſſyllables; but as to monoſylla⯑bles, they may without many exceptions be pronounced either long or ſhort. Nor is the ear hurt by this liberty; being accuſtomed to the variation of quantity in the ſame word. This ſhows that the melody of Eng⯑liſh [384] verſe muſt depend leſs upon quantity, than upon other circumſtances. In that par⯑ticular it differs widely from Latin verſe. There, every ſyllable having but one ſound, ſtrikes the ear conſtantly with its accuſtom⯑ed impreſſion; and a reader muſt be de⯑lighted to find a number of ſuch ſyllables, diſpoſed ſo artfully as to raiſe a lively ſenſe of melody. Syllables variable in quantity can⯑not poſſeſs this power. Cuſtom may ren⯑der familiar, both a long and ſhort pronun⯑ciation of the ſame word; but the mind conſtantly wavering betwixt the two ſounds, cannot be ſo much affected with a ſyllable of this kind as with one which bears always the ſame ſound. What I have further to ſay upon quantity, will come in more pro⯑perly under the following head, of arrange⯑ment.

And with reſpect to arrangement, which may be brought within a narrow compaſs, the Engliſh heroic line is commonly Iam⯑bic, the firſt ſyllable ſhort, the ſecond long, and ſo on alternately through the whole line. One exception there is, pretty fre⯑quent. Many lines commence with a [385] Trochaeus, viz. a long and a ſhort ſyllable. But this affects not the order of the follow⯑ing ſyllables. Theſe go on alternately as uſual, one ſhort and one long. The fol⯑lowing couplet affords an example of each kind:

It is unhappy in the conſtruction of Engliſh verſe, that it excludes the bulk of polyſyllables, though the moſt ſounding words in our language; for upon examina⯑tion it will be found, that very few of them are compoſed of ſuch alternation of long and ſhort ſyllables as to correſpond to either of the arrangements mentioned. Engliſh verſe accordingly is almoſt totally reduced to diſſyllables and monoſyllables. Magna⯑nimity is a ſounding word totally excluded. Impetuoſity is ſtill a finer word by the reſem⯑blance of the ſound and ſenſe; and yet a negative is put upon it, as well as upon numberleſs words of the ſame kind. Poly⯑ſyllables compoſed of ſyllables long and ſhort alternately, make a good figure in [386] verſe; for example, obſervance, opponent, oſtenſive, pindaric, productive, prolific, and ſuch others of three ſyllables. Imitation, imperfection, miſdemeanour, mitigation, mo⯑deration, obſervator, ornamental, regulator, and others ſimilar of four ſyllables, begin⯑ning with two ſhort ſyllables, the third long, and the fourth ſhort, may find a place in a line commencing with a Trochaeus. I know not if there be any of five ſyllables. One I know of ſix, viz. miſinterpretation. But words ſo compoſed are not frequent in our language.

One would not imagine without trial, how uncouth falſe quantity appears in verſe; not leſs than a provincial tone or idiom. The article the is one of the few monoſyllables that is invariably ſhort. See how harſh it makes a line where it muſt be pronounced long:

Again:

[387] Let the article be pronounced ſhort, and it reduces the melody almoſt to nothing. Better ſo however than a falſe quantity. In the following examples we perceive the ſame defect.

The great variety of modulation conſpi⯑cuous in Engliſh verſe, will be found upon trial to ariſe chiefly from the pauſes and ac⯑cents; and therefore theſe circumſtances are of greater importance than is commonly thought. There is a degree of intricacy in this branch of our ſubject, and it will re⯑quire ſome pains to give a diſtinct view of it. But we muſt not be diſcouraged by dif⯑ficulties. The pauſe, which paves the way to the accent, offers itſelf firſt to our exami⯑nation. From a very ſhort trial, the fol⯑lowing [388] facts will be verified. 1ſt, A line admits but one capital pauſe, 2d, In different lines, we find this pauſe after the fourth ſyllable, after the fifth, after the ſixth, and after the ſeventh. Theſe parti⯑culars lay a ſolid foundation for dividing Engliſh heroic lines into four ſorts, diſtin⯑guiſhed by the different places of the pauſe. Nor is this an idle diſtinction. On the contrary, unleſs it be kept in view, we can⯑not have any juſt notion of the richneſs and variety of Engliſh verſification. Each ſort or order hath a melody peculiar to itſelf, readily diſtinguiſhable by a good ear; and, in the ſequel, I am not without hopes to make the cauſe of this peculiarity ſufficient⯑ly evident. It muſt be obſerved, at the ſame time, that the pauſe cannot be made indifferently at any of the places mentioned. It is the ſenſe that regulates the pauſe, as will be ſeen more fully afterward; and con⯑ſequently, it is the ſenſe that determines of what order every line muſt be. There can be but one capital muſical pauſe in a line; and this pauſe ought to coincide, if poſſible, [389] with a pauſe in the ſenſe; in order that the ſound may accord with the ſenſe.

What is ſaid muſt be illuſtrated by ex⯑amples of each ſort or order. And firſt of the pauſe after the fourth ſyllable:

Again,

After the 5th:

After the 6th:

Again,

After the 7th:

[390] Again,

Beſide the capital pauſe now mentioned, other inferior or ſemipauſes will be diſco⯑vered by a nice ear. Of theſe there are commonly two in each line; one before the capital pauſe, and one after it. The former is invariably placed after the firſt long ſyl⯑lable, whether the line begin with a long ſyllable or a ſhort. The other in its variety imitates the capital pauſe. In ſome lines it follows the 6th ſyllable, in ſome the 7th, and in ſome the 8th. Of theſe ſemipauſes take the following examples.

1ſt and 8th:

1ſt and 7th:

2d and 8th:

[391] 2d and 6th:

2d and 7th:

Even from theſe few examples, it ap⯑pears, that the place of the laſt ſemipauſe, like that of the full pauſe, is directed in a good meaſure by the ſenſe. Its proper place with reſpect to the melody is after the eighth ſyllable, ſo as to finiſh the line with an Iambus diſtinctly pronounced, which, by a long ſyllable after a ſhort, is a preparation for reſt. If this hold, the pla⯑cing this ſemipauſe after the 6th or after the 7th ſyllable, muſt be directed by the ſenſe, in order to avoid a pauſe in the middle of a word, or betwixt two words intimately connected; and ſo far melody is juſtly ſa⯑crificed to ſenſe.

In diſcourſing of the full pauſe in a Hex⯑ameter line, it is laid down as a rule, That it ought never to divide a word. Such licence deviates too far from the connection [392] that ought to be betwixt the pauſes of ſenſe and of melody. And in an Engliſh line, it is for the ſame reaſon equally wrong to divide a word by a full pauſe. Let us juſtify this reaſon by experiments.

Are theſe lines diſtinguiſhable from proſe? Scarcely, I think.

The ſame rule is not applicable to a ſe⯑mipauſe, which being ſhort and faint, is not ſenſibly diſagreeable when it divides a word.

It muſt however be acknowledged, that the melody here ſuffers in ſome degree. A word ought to be pronounced without any reſt betwixt its component ſyllables. The [393] ſemipauſe muſt bend to this rule, and thereby vaniſheth almoſt altogether.

With regard to the capital pauſe, it is ſo eſſential to the melody, that a poet cannot be too nice in the choice of its place, in or⯑der to have it full, clear, and diſtinct. It cannot be placed more happily than with a pauſe in the ſenſe; and if the ſenſe require but a comma after the fourth, fifth, ſixth, or ſeventh ſyllable, there can be no diffi⯑culty about this muſical pauſe. But to make ſuch coincidence eſſential, would cramp verſification too much; and we have experience for our authority, that there may be a pauſe in the melody where the ſenſe requires none. We muſt not how⯑ever imagine, that a muſical pauſe may be placed at the end of any word indifferently. Some words, like ſyllables of the ſame word, are ſo intimately connected as not to bear a ſeparation even by a pauſe. No good poet ever attempted to ſeparate a ſubſtantive from its article: the dividing ſuch intimate companions, would be harſh and unplea⯑ſant. The following line, for example, [394] cannot be pronounced with a pauſe as marked.

But ought to be pronounced in the follow⯑ing manner.

If then it be not a matter of indifferency where to make the pauſe, there ought to be rules for determining what words may be ſeparated by a pauſe and what are in⯑capable of ſuch ſeparation. I ſhall endea⯑vour to unfold theſe rules; not chiefly for their utility, but in order to exemplify ſome latent principles that tend to regulate our taſte even where we are ſcarce ſenſible of them. And to that end, it ſeems the eli⯑gible method to run over the verbal rela⯑tions, beginning with the moſt intimate. The firſt that preſents itſelf, is that of ad⯑jective and ſubſtantive, being the relation of ſubſtance and quality, the moſt in⯑timate of all. A quality cannot exiſt inde⯑pendent of a ſubſtance, nor is it ſeparable from it even in imagination, becauſe they [395] make parts of the ſame idea; and for that reaſon, it muſt, with regard to melody, be diſagreeable, to beſtow upon the adjective a ſort of independent exiſtence, by inter⯑jecting a pauſe betwixt it and its ſubſtan⯑tive. I cannot therefore approve the fol⯑lowing lines, nor any of the ſort; for to my taſte they are harſh and unpleaſant.

I have upon this article multiplied exam⯑ples, that in a caſe where I have the miſ⯑fortune to diſlike what paſſes current in practice, every man upon the ſpot may judge by his own taſte. The foregoing reaſoning, it is true, appears to me juſt: it is however too ſubtile, to afford conviction in oppoſition to taſte.

Conſidering this matter in a ſuperficial view, one might be apt to imagine, that it muſt be the ſame, whether the adjective go firſt, which is the natural order, or the ſubſtantive, which is indulged by the laws of inverſion. But we ſoon diſco⯑ver this to be a miſtake. Colour cannot be conceived independent of the ſurface co⯑loured; but a tree may be conceived, as growing in a certain ſpot, as of a cer⯑tain [397] kind, and as ſpreading its extended branches all around, without ever thinking of the colour. In a word, qualities, though related all to one ſubject, may be conſidered ſeparately, and the ſubject may be conſider⯑ed with ſome of its qualities independent of others; though we cannot form an image of any ſingle quality independent of the ſubject. Thus then, though an adjective named firſt be inſeparable from the ſub⯑ſtantive, the propoſition does not recipro⯑cate. An image can be formed of the ſub⯑ſtantive independent of the adjective; and for this reaſon, they may be ſeparated by a pauſe, when the former is introduced be⯑fore the latter:

The verb and adverb are preciſely in the ſame condition with the ſubſtantive and ad⯑jective. An adverb, which expreſſes a cer⯑tain modification of the action expreſſed by the verb, is not ſeparable from it even in i⯑magination. And therefore I muſt alſo give up the following lines.

But an action may be conceived leaving out a particular modification, preciſely as a ſub⯑ject may be conceived leaving out a particu⯑lar quality; and therefore when by inver⯑ſion the verb is firſt introduced, it has no bad effect to interject a pauſe betwixt it and the adverb which follows. This may be done at the cloſe of a line, where the pauſe is at leaſt as full as that is which divides the line:

The agent and its action come next, ex⯑preſſed in grammar by the active ſubſtan⯑tive and its verb. Betwixt theſe, placed in their natural order, there is no difficulty of interjecting a pauſe. An active being is not always in motion, and therefore it is eaſily ſeparable in idea from its action. When in a ſentence the ſubſtantive takes the lead, we know not that action is to follow; and [399] as reſt muſt precede the commencement of motion, this interval is a proper opportu⯑nity for a pauſe.

On the other hand, when by inverſion the verb is placed firſt, is it lawful to ſepa⯑rate it by a pauſe from the active ſubſtan⯑tive? I anſwer not, becauſe an action is not in idea ſeparable from the agent, more than a quality from the ſubſtance to which it belongs. Two lines of the firſt rate for beauty have always appeared to me excep⯑tionable, upon account of the pauſe thus interjected betwixt the verb and the conſe⯑quent ſubſtantive; and I have now diſco⯑vered a reaſon to ſupport my taſte:

The point of the greateſt delicacy regards the active verb and the paſſive ſubſtantive placed in their natural order. On the one ſide it will be obſerved, that theſe words ſignify things which are not ſeparable in idea. Killing cannot be conceived with⯑out [400] ſome being that is put to death, nor painting without a ſurface upon which the colours are ſpread. On the other ſide, an action and the thing on which it is exerted, are not, like ſubſtance and quality, united in one individual ſubject. The active ſubject is perfectly diſtinct from that which is paſ⯑ſive; and they are connected by one cir⯑cumſtance only, that the action exerted by the former, is exerted upon the latter. This makes it poſſible to take the action to pieces, and to conſider it firſt with relation to the a⯑gent, and next with relation to the patient. But after all, ſo intimately connected are the parts of the thought, that it requires an effort to make a ſeparation even for a mo⯑ment. The ſubtiliſing to ſuch a degree is not agreeable, eſpecially in works of imagi⯑nation. The beſt poets however, taking advantage of this ſubtilty, ſcruple not to ſeparate by a pauſe an active verb from its paſſive ſubject. Such pauſes in a long work may be indulged; but taken ſingly, they certainly are not agreeable. I appeal to the following examples.

On the other hand, when the paſſive ſub⯑ject by inverſion is firſt named, there is no difficulty of interjecting a pauſe betwixt it and the verb, more than when the active ſubject is firſt named. The ſame reaſon holds in both, that though a verb cannot be ſeparated in idea from the ſubſtantive which governs it, and ſcarcely from the ſubſtantive it governs; yet a ſubſtantive [402] may always be conceived independent of the verb. When the paſſive ſubject is in⯑troduced before the verb, we know not that an action is to be exerted upon it; therefore we may reſt till the action com⯑mences. For the ſake of illuſtration take the following examples.

What is ſaid about placing the pauſe, leads to a general obſervation, which I ſhall have occaſion for afterwards. The natural order of placing the active ſubſtantive and its verb, is more friendly to a pauſe than the inverted order. But in all the other connections, inverſion affords by far a bet⯑ter opportunity for a pauſe. Upon this de⯑pends one of the great advantages that blank verſe hath over rhyme. The privi⯑lege of inverſion, in which it far excels rhyme, gives it a much greater choice of pauſes, than can be had in the natural order of arrangement.

[403] We now proceed to the ſlighter connec⯑tions, which ſhall be diſcuſſed in one gene⯑ral article. Words connected by conjunc⯑tions and prepoſitions freely admit a pauſe betwixt them, which will be clear from the following inſtances.

Connecting particles were invented to unite in a period two ſubſtantives ſignifying things occaſionally united in the thought, but which have no natural union. And be⯑twixt two things not only ſeparable in idea, but really diſtinct, the mind, for the ſake of melody, chearfully admits by a pauſe a momentary disjunction of their occaſional union.

One capital branch of the ſubject is ſtill upon hand, to which I am directed by what is juſt now ſaid. It concerns thoſe parts of ſpeech which ſingly repreſent no idea, and which become not ſignificant till they be joined to other words. I mean conjunctions, [404] prepoſitions, articles, and ſuch like acceſſo⯑ries, paſſing under the name of particles. Upon theſe the queſtion occurs, Whether they can be ſeparated by a pauſe from the words that make them ſignificant? Whe⯑ther, for example, in the following lines, the ſeparation of the acceſſory prepoſition from the principal ſubſtantive, be according to rule?

Or ſeparating the conjunction from the word it connects with what goes before:

It will be obvious at the firſt glance, that the foregoing reaſoning upon objects natu⯑rally [405] connected, are not applicable to words which of themſelves are mere ciphers. We muſt therefore have recourſe to ſome other principle for ſolving the preſent queſtion. Theſe particles out of their place are total⯑ly inſignificant. To give them a meaning, they muſt be joined to certain words. The neceſſity of this junction, together with cuſtom, forms an artificial connection, which has a ſtrong influence upon the mind. It cannot bear even a momentary ſeparation, which deſtroys the ſenſe, and is at the ſame time contradictory to practice. Another circumſtance tends ſtill more to make this ſeparation diſagreeable. The long ſyllable immediately preceding the full pauſe, muſt be accented; for this is requi⯑red by the melody, as will afterward ap⯑pear. But it is ridiculous to accent or put an emphaſis upon a low word that raiſes no idea, and is confined to the humble pro⯑vince of connecting words that raiſe ideas. And for that reaſon, a line muſt be diſa⯑greeable where a particle immediately pre⯑cedes the full pauſe; for ſuch conſtruction [406] of a line makes the melody diſcord with the ſenſe.

Hitherto we have diſcourſed upon that pauſe only which divides the line. Are the ſame rules applicable to the concluding pauſe? This muſt be anſwered by making a diſtinction. In the firſt line of a couplet, the concluding pauſe differs little, if at all, from the pauſe which divides the line; and for that reaſon, the rules are applicable to both equally. The concluding pauſe of the couplet, is in a different condition: it re⯑ſembles greatly the concluding pauſe in a Hexameter line. Both of them indeed are ſo remarkable, that they never can be grace⯑ful, unleſs when they accompany a pauſe in the ſenſe. Hence it follows, that a couplet ought always to be finiſhed with ſome cloſe in the ſenſe; if not a point, at leaſt a comma. The truth is, that this rule is ſeldom tranſ⯑greſſed. In Pope's works, upon a curſory ſearch indeed, I found but the following deviations from the rule.

Another:

But now, ſuppoſing the connection to be ſo ſlender as to admit a pauſe, it follows not that a pauſe may always be put. There is one rule to which every other ought to bend, That the ſenſe muſt never be wound⯑ed or obſcured by the muſic; and upon that account, I condemn the following lines:

And,

With reſpect to inverſion, it appears both from reaſon and experiments, that many words which cannot bear a ſeparation in their natural order, admit a pauſe when in⯑verted. And it may be added, that when [408] two words, or two members of a ſentence, in their natural order, can be ſeparated by a pauſe, ſuch ſeparation can never be amiſs in an inverted order. An inverted period, which runs croſs to the natural train of ideas, requires to be marked in ſome mea⯑ſure even by pauſes in the ſenſe, that the parts may be diſtinctly known. Take the following examples.

The ſame where the ſeparation is made at the cloſe of the firſt line of the couplet:

The pauſe is tolerable even at the cloſe of the couplet, for the reaſon juſt now ſuggeſt⯑ed, [409] that inverted members require ſome ſlight pauſe in the ſenſe:

Thus a train of reaſoning hath inſenſibly led us to concluſions with regard to the muſical pauſe, very different from thoſe in the firſt ſection, concerning the ſeparating by an interjected circumſtance words inti⯑mately connected. One would conjecture, that where-ever words are ſeparable by in⯑terjecting a circumſtance, they ſhould be e⯑qually ſeparable by interjecting a pauſe. But, upon a more narrow inſpection, the appearance of analogy vaniſheth. To make this evident, I need only premiſe, that a pauſe in the ſenſe diſtinguiſhes the different members of a period from each other; that two words of the ſame member may be ſe⯑parated by a circumſtance, all the three making ſtill but one member; and therefore that a pauſe in the ſenſe has no connection with the ſeparation of words by interjected [410] circumſtances. This ſets the matter in a clear light. It is obſerved above, that the muſical pauſe is intimately connected with the pauſe in the ſenſe; ſo intimately indeed, that regularly they ought to coincide. As this would be too great a reſtraint, a licence is indulged, to place pauſes for the ſake of the muſic where they are not neceſſary for the ſenſe. But this licence muſt be kept within bounds. And a muſical pauſe ought never to be placed where a pauſe is excluded by the ſenſe; as, for example, be⯑twixt the adjective and following ſubſtantive which make parts of the ſame idea, and ſtill leſs betwixt a particle and the word which makes it ſignificant.

Abſtracting at preſent from the peculia⯑rity of modulation ariſing from the different pauſes, it cannot fail to be obſerved in general, that they introduce into our verſe no ſlight degree of variety. Nothing more fatigues the ear, than a number of uniform lines having all the ſame pauſe, which is extremely remarkable in the French verſifi⯑cation. This imperfection will be diſcern⯑ed by a fine ear even in the ſhorteſt ſucceſ⯑ſion, [411] and becomes intolerable in a long poem. Pope excels all the world in the variety of his modulation, which indeed is not leſs perfect of its kind than that of Virgil.

From what is now ſaid, there ought to be one exception. Uniformity in the members of a thought, demands equal uni⯑formity in the members of the period which expreſſes that thought. When therefore reſembling objects or things are expreſſed in a plurality of verſe-lines, theſe lines in their ſtructure ought to be as uniform as poſſible, and the pauſes in particular ought all of them to have the ſame place. Take the following examples.

Again,

[412] Speaking of Nature, or the God of Nature:

Pauſes are like to dwell longer upon hand than I imagined; for the ſubject is not yet exhauſted. It is laid down above, that Engliſh heroic verſe, conſidering melo⯑dy only, admits no more than four capital pauſes; and that the capital pauſe of every line is determined by the ſenſe to be after the fourth, the fifth, the ſixth, or ſeventh ſyllable. And that this doc⯑trine holds true ſo far as melody alone is concerned, every good ear will bear teſti⯑mony. At the ſame time, examples are not unfrequent, in Milton eſpecially, of the capital pauſe being after the firſt, the ſe⯑cond, or the third ſyllable And that this licence may be taken, even gracefully, when it adds vigour to the expreſſion, I readily admit. So far the ſound may be juſtly ſacrificed to the ſenſe or expreſſion. That this licence may be ſucceſsfully taken, [413] will be clear from the following example. Pope, in his tranſlation of Homer, de⯑ſcribes a rock broke off from a mountain, and hurling to the plain, in the following words.

In the penult line the proper place of the muſical pauſe is at the end of the fifth ſyl⯑lable; but it enlivens the expreſſion by its coincidence with that of the ſenſe at the end of the ſecond ſyllable. The ſtop⯑ping ſhort before the uſual pauſe in the melody, aids the impreſſion that is made by the deſcription of the ſtone's ſtopping ſhort. And what is loſt to the melody by this artifice, is more than compenſated by the force that is added to the deſcription. [414] Milton makes a happy uſe of this licence; witneſs the following examples from his Paradiſe Loſt.

If we conſider the foregoing paſſages with reſpect to melody ſingly, the pauſes are undoubtedly out of their proper place. But being united with thoſe of the ſenſe, they inforce the expreſſion and enliven it greatly. And the beauty of expreſſion is communicated to the ſound, which, by a natural deception, makes even the melody appear more perfect than if the muſical pauſes were regular.

To explain the rules of accenting, two general obſervations muſt be premiſed. The firſt is, That accents have a double effect. They contribute to the melody, by giving it air and ſpirit: they contribute not leſs to the ſenſe, by diſtinguiſhing important words from others. Theſe two effects ought never to be ſeparated. If a muſical accent be put where the ſenſe rejects it, we feel a diſcordance betwixt the thought and [416] the melody. An accent, for example, placed on a word that makes no figure, has the effect to burleſk it, by giving it an unnatural elevation. The injury thus done to the ſenſe, is communicated to the melo⯑dy by the intimacy of connection, and both ſeem to be wounded. This rule is applicable in a peculiar manner to particles. It is indeed ridiculous to put an emphaſis on a word which of itſelf has no meaning, and like cement ſerves only to unite words ſignificant. The other general obſervation is, That a word of whatever number of ſyllables, is not accented upon more than one of them. Nor is this an arbitrary prac⯑tice. The object repreſented by the word, is ſet in its beſt light by a ſingle accent: reiterated accents on different ſyllables in ſucceſſion, make not the emphaſis ſtronger; but have an air, as if the ſound only of the accented ſyllables were regarded, and not the ſenſe of the word.

Keeping in view the foregoing obſerva⯑tions, the doctrine of accenting Engliſh he⯑roic verſe, is extremely ſimple. In the firſt place, accenting is confined to the long [417] ſyllables; for the melody admits not an accent upon any ſhort ſyllable. In the next place, as the melody is inriched in propor⯑tion to the number of accents, every word that has a long ſyllable ought to be accent⯑ed, unleſs where the accent is rejected by the ſenſe: a word, as obſerved, that makes no figure by its ſignification, cannot bear an accent. According to this rule, a line may admit five accents; a caſe by no means rare.

But ſuppoſing every long ſyllable to be accented, there is conſtantly, in every line, one accent which makes a greater figure than the reſt. This capital accent is that which precedes the capital pauſe. Hence it is diſtinguiſhable into two kinds; one that is immediately ſucceeded by the pauſe, and one that is divided from the pauſe by a ſhort ſyllable. The former be⯑longs to lines of the firſt and third order: the latter to thoſe of the ſecond and fourth. Examples of the firſt kind.

Examples of the ſecond.

Theſe accents make different impreſſions on the mind, which will be the ſubject of a following ſpeculation. In the mean time, it may be ſafely pronounced a capi⯑tal defect in the compoſition of verſe, to put a low word, incapable of an accent, in the place where this accent ſhould be. This bars the accent altogether; and I know no other fault more ſubverſive of the melody, if it be not that of barring a pauſe altogether. I may add affirmatively, that it is a capital beauty in the compoſition of verſe, to have the moſt important word of the ſentence, ſo placed as that this capital accent may be laid upon it. No ſingle circumſtance contri⯑butes more to the energy of verſe, than to [419] have this accent on a word, that, by the importance of its meaning, is intitled to a peculiar emphaſis. To ſhow the bad effect of excluding the capital accent, I refer the reader to ſome inſtances given above, p. 000, where particles are ſeparated by a pauſe from the capital words that make them ſignificant, and which particles ought, for the ſake of the melody, to be accented, were they capable of an accent. Add to theſe the following inſtances from the Eſſay on Criticiſm.

When this fault is at the end of the line that cloſes a couplet, it leaves not the leaſt trace of melody:

In a line expreſſive of what is humble or dejected, it improves the reſemblance be⯑twixt the ſound and ſenſe, to exclude the capital accent. This, to my taſte, is a beauty in the following lines.

To conclude this article, the accents are not, like the ſyllables, confined to a certain number Some lines have no fewer than [421] five, and there are lines that admit not a⯑bove one. This variety, as we have ſeen, depends entirely on the different powers of the component words. Particles, even where they are long by poſition, cannot be accented; and polyſyllables, whatever ſpace they occupy, admit but one accent. Poly⯑ſyllables have another defect, that they generally exclude the full pauſe. I have ſhown above, that few polyſyllables can find place in the conſtruction of Engliſh verſe. Here are reaſons for excluding them, could they find place.

I am now prepared to fulfil a promiſe concerning the four ſorts of lines that enter into Engliſh heroic verſe. That theſe have, each of them, a peculiar melody diſtinguiſh⯑able by a good ear, I ventured to ſuggeſt, and promiſed to account for: and though this ſubject is extremely delicate, I am not without hopes of making good my engage⯑ment. Firſt, however, like a wary gene⯑ral, I take all advantages the ground will permit. I do not aver, that this peculiarity of modulation is in every inſtance per⯑ceptible. [422] Far from it. The impreſſion made by a period, whether it be verſe or proſe, is occaſioned chiefly by the thought, and in an inferior degree by the words; and theſe articles are ſo intimately uni⯑ted with the melody, that they have each of them a ſtrong influence upon the others. With reſpect to the melody in particular, inſtances are without number, of melody, in itſelf poor and weak, paſſing for rich and ſpirited where it is ſupported by the thought and expreſſion. I am therefore intitled to inſiſt, that this experiment be tried upon lines of equal rank. And to a⯑void the perplexity of various caſes, I muſt alſo inſiſt, that the lines choſen for a trial be regularly accented before the pauſe: for upon a matter abundantly refined in itſelf, I would not willingly be imbarraſſed with faulty and irregular lines. Theſe prelimi⯑naries being adjuſted, I begin with ſome general obſervations, that will ſave repeating the ſame thing over and over upon each par⯑ticular caſe. And, firſt, an accent ſucceed⯑ed by a pauſe, makes ſenſibly a deeper im⯑preſſion than where the voice goes on with⯑out [423] a ſtop: to make an impreſſion re⯑quires time; and there is no time where there is no pauſe. The fact is ſo certain, that in running over a few lines, there is ſcarce an ear ſo dull as not readily to diſtinguiſh from others, that particular accent which immediately precedes the full pauſe. In the next place, the elevation of an accenting tone, produceth in the mind a ſimilar ele⯑vation, which is continued during the pauſe. Every circumſtance is different where the pauſe is ſeparated from the accent by a ſhort ſyllable. The impreſſion made by the ac⯑cent is more ſlight when there is no ſtop; and the elevation of the accent is gone in a moment by the falling of the voice in pro⯑nouncing the ſhort ſyllable that follows. The pauſe alſo is ſenſibly affected by the poſition of the accent. In lines of the firſt and third order, the cloſe conjunction of the accent and pauſe, occaſions a ſudden ſtop without preparation, which rouſes the mind, and beſtows on the melody a ſpirit⯑ed air. When, on the other hand, the pauſe is ſeparated from the accent by a ſhort ſyllable, which always happens in [424] lines of the ſecond and fourth order, the pauſe is ſoft and gentle. This ſhort unac⯑cented ſyllable ſucceeding one that is ac⯑cented, muſt of courſe be pronounced with a falling voice, which naturally prepares for a pauſe. The mind falls gently from the accent⯑ed ſyllable, and ſlides into reſt as it were inſenſibly. Further, the lines themſelves, derive different powers from the poſition of the pauſe. A pauſe after the fourth ſylla⯑ble divides the line into two unequal por⯑tions, of which the largeſt comes laſt. This circumſtance reſolving the line into an aſcending ſeries, makes an impreſſion in pronouncing like that of mounting upward. And to this impreſſion contributes the re⯑doubled effort in pronouncing the largeſt portion, which is laſt in order. The mind has a different feeling when the pauſe ſucceeds the fifth ſyllable. The line being divided into two equal parts by this pauſe, theſe parts, pronounced with equal effort, are agreeable by their uniformity. A line divided by a pauſe after the ſixth ſyllable, makes an impreſſion oppoſite to that firſt mentioned. Being divided into two une⯑qual [425] portions, of which the ſhorteſt is laſt in order, it appears like a ſlow deſcending ſeries; and the ſecond portion being pro⯑nounced with leſs effort than the firſt, the diminiſhed effort prepares the mind for reſt. And this preparation for reſt is ſtill more ſenſibly felt where the pauſe is after the ſeventh ſyllable, as in lines of the fourth order.

No perſon can be at a loſs in applying theſe obſervations. A line of the firſt order is of all the moſt ſpirited and lively. To produce this effect, ſeveral of the circum⯑ſtances above mentioned concur. The accent, being followed inſtantly by a pauſe, makes an illuſtrious figure: the elevated tone of the accent elevates the mind: the mind is ſup⯑ported in its elevation by the ſudden un⯑prepared pauſe which rouſes and animates: and the line itſelf, repreſenting by its une⯑qual diviſion an aſcending ſeries, carries the mind ſtill higher, making an impreſſion ſi⯑milar to that of mounting upward. The ſecond order has a modulation ſenſibly ſweet, ſoft, and flowing. The accent is not ſo ſprightly as in the former, becauſe a [426] ſhort ſyllable intervenes betwixt it and the pauſe: its elevation, by the ſame means, vaniſheth inſtantaneouſly: the mind, by a falling voice, is gently prepared for a ſtop: and the pleaſure of uniformity from the di⯑viſion of the line into two equal parts, is calm and ſweet. The third order has a modulation not ſo eaſily expreſſed in words. It in part reſembles the firſt order, by the livelineſs of an accent ſucceeded inſtantly by a full pauſe. But then the elevation oc⯑caſioned by this circumſtance, is balanced in ſome degree by the remitted effort in pronouncing the ſecond portion, which re⯑mitted effort has a tendency to reſt. An⯑other circumſtance diſtinguiſheth it remark⯑ably. Its capital accent comes late, being placed on the ſixth ſyllable; and this cir⯑cumſtance beſtows on it an air of gravity and ſolemnity. The laſt order reſembles the ſecond in the mildneſs of its accent and ſoftneſs of its pauſe. It is ſtill more ſolemn than the third, by the lateneſs of its capital accent. It alſo poſſeſſes in a higher degree than the third, the tendency to reſt; and by that circumſtance is of all the beſt qua⯑lified [427] for cloſing a period in the completeſt manner.

But theſe are not all the diſtinguiſhing characters of the different orders. Each order alſo, by means of its final accent and pauſe, makes a peculiar impreſſion; ſo pe⯑culiar as to produce a melody clearly diſ⯑tinguiſhable from that of the others. This peculiarity is occaſioned by the diviſion which the capital pauſe makes in a line. By an unequal diviſion in the firſt order, the mind has an impreſſion of aſcending; and is left at the cloſe in the higheſt eleva⯑tion, which is diſplay'd on the concluding ſyllable. By this means, a ſtrong emphaſis is naturally laid upon the concluding ſylla⯑ble, whether by raiſing the voice to a ſharper tone, or by expreſſing the word in a fuller tone. This order accordingly is of all the leaſt proper for concluding a period, where a cadence is proper, and not an ac⯑cent. In the ſecond order, the final ac⯑cent makes not ſo capital a figure. There is nothing ſingular in its being marked by a pauſe, for this is common to all the orders; and this order, being deſtitute of the im⯑preſſion [428] of aſcent, cannot rival the firſt or⯑der in the elevation of its accent, nor con⯑ſequently in the dignity of its pauſe; for theſe always have a mutual influence. This order, however, with reſpect to its cloſe, maintains a ſuperiority over the third and fourth orders. In theſe the cloſe is more humble, being brought down by the impreſſion of deſcent, and by the remitted effort in pronouncing; conſiderably in the third order, and ſtill more conſiderably in the laſt. According to this deſcription, the concluding accents and pauſes of the four orders being reduced to a ſcale, will form a deſcending ſeries probably in an arithmeti⯑cal progreſſion.

After what is ſaid, will it be thought re⯑fining too much to ſuggeſt, that the different orders are qualified for different purpoſes, and that a poet of genius will be naturally led to make a choice accordingly? I cannot think this altogether chimerical. It appears to me, that the firſt order is proper for a ſen⯑timent that is bold, lively, or impetuous; that the third order is proper for ſubjects grave, ſolemn, or lofty; the ſecond for [429] what is tender, delicate, or melancholy, and in general for all the ſympathetic emo⯑tions; and the laſt for ſubjects of the ſame kind, when tempered with any degree of ſolemnity. I do not contend, that any one order is fitted for no other taſk, than that aſſigned it. At that rate, no ſort of modu⯑lation would be left for accompanying ordi⯑nary thoughts, that have nothing peculiar in them. I only venture to ſuggeſt, and I do it with diffidence, that one order is pe⯑culiarly adapted to certain ſubjects, and better qualified than the others for expreſſ⯑ing ſuch ſubjects. The beſt way to judge is by experiment; and to avoid the impu⯑tation of a partial ſearch, I ſhall confine my inſtances to a ſingle poem, beginning with the firſt order.

In accounting for the remarkable livelineſs of this paſſage, it will be acknowledged by every one who has an ear, that the modu⯑lation muſt come in for a ſhare. The lines, all of them, are of the firſt order; a very unuſual circumſtance in the author of this poem, ſo eminent for variety in his verſifi⯑cation. Who can doubt, that, in this paſ⯑ſage, he has been led by delicacy of taſte to employ the firſt order preferably to the o⯑thers?

Second order.

[431] Again,

Third order.

Again,

A plurality of lines of the fourth order, would not have a good effect in ſucceſſion; becauſe, by a remarkable tendency to reſt, its proper office is to cloſe a period. The reader, therefore, muſt be ſatisfied with in⯑ſtances where this order is mixed with o⯑thers.

[432] Again,

Again,

Again,

And this ſuggeſts another experiment, which is, to ſet the different orders more di⯑rectly in oppoſition, by giving examples where they are mixed in the ſame paſſage.

Firſt and ſecond orders.

Again,

Firſt and third.

Again,

Again,

Again,

Second and third.

Again,

Muſing on the foregoing ſubject, I begin to doubt whether I have not been all this while in a reverie. Here unexpectedly a ſort of fairy-ſcene opens, where every ob⯑ject is new and ſingular. Is there any truth in the appearance, or is it merely a work of imagination? The ſcene ſeems to be a reality; and if it can bear ex⯑amination, it muſt exalt greatly the me⯑lody of Engliſh heroic verſe. If uni⯑formity prevail, in the arrangement, in the equality of the lines, and in the re⯑ſemblance of the final ſounds; variety is ſtill more conſpicuous in the pauſes and accents, [435] which are diverſified in a ſurpriſing man⯑ner. The beauty that reſults from com⯑bined objects, is juſtly obſerved to conſiſt in a due mixture of uniformity and varie⯑ty^*. Of this beauty many inſtances have already occurred, but none more illuſtrious than Engliſh verſification. However rude it may be by the ſimplicity of arrange⯑ment, it is highly melodious by its pau⯑ſes and accents, ſo as already to rival the moſt perfect ſpecies known in Greece or Rome. And it is no diſagreeable pro⯑ſpect to find it ſuſceptible of ſtill greater re⯑finement.

We proceed to blank verſe, which hath ſo many circumſtances in common with rhyme, that what is neceſſary to be ſaid upon it may be brought within a narrow compaſs. With reſpect to form, it differs not from rhyme farther than in rejecting the jingle of ſimilar ſounds. But let us not think this difference a trifle, or that we gain nothing by it but the purifying our [436] verſe from a pleaſure ſo childiſh. In truth, our verſe is extremely cramped by rhyme; and the great advantage of blank verſe is, that, being free from the fetters of rhyme, it is at liberty to attend the imagination in its boldeſt flights. Rhyme neceſſarily di⯑vides verſe into couplets: each couplet makes a complete muſical period; the parts of which are divided by pauſes, and the whole ſummed up by a full cloſe at the end: the modulation begins anew with the next couplet: and in this manner a compoſition in rhyme proceeds couplet after couplet. I have more than once had occa⯑ſion to obſerve the influence that ſound and ſenſe have upon each other by their intimate union. If a couplet be a com⯑plete period with regard to the melody, it ought regularly to be ſo alſo with re⯑gard to the ſenſe. This, it is true, proves too great a cramp upon compoſition; and licences are indulged, as explained a⯑bove. Theſe however muſt be uſed with diſcretion, ſo as to preſerve ſome degree of uniformity betwixt the ſenſe and the muſic. [437] There ought never to be a full cloſe in the ſenſe but at the end of a couplet; and there ought always to be ſome pauſe in the ſenſe at the end of every couplet. The ſame period as to ſenſe may be extended through ſeveral couplets; but in this caſe each couplet ought to contain a diſtinct member, diſtinguiſhed by a pauſe in the ſenſe as well as in the ſound; and the whole ought to be cloſed with a com⯑plete cadence. Rules ſuch as theſe, muſt confine rhyme within very narrow bounds. A thought of any extent, cannot be redu⯑ced within its compaſs. The ſenſe muſt be curtailed and broken into pieces, to make it ſquare with the curtneſs of melody: and it is obvious, that ſhort periods afford no latitude for inverſion. I have examined this point with the greater accuracy, in or⯑der to give a juſt notion of blank verſe; and to ſhow that a ſlight difference in form may produce a very great difference in ſubſtance. Blank verſe has the ſame pauſes and ac⯑cents with rhyme; and a pauſe at the end of every line, like what concludes the firſt line of a couplet. In a word, the rules of [438] melody in blank verſe, are the ſame that obtain with reſpect to the firſt line of a couplet. But luckily, being diſengaged from rhyme, or, in other words, from couplets, there is acceſs to make every line run into another, preciſely as the firſt line of a couplet may run into the ſecond. There muſt be a muſical pauſe at the end of every line; but it is not neceſſary that it be accompanied with a pauſe in the ſenſe. The ſenſe may be carried on through dif⯑ferent lines; till a period of the utmoſt ex⯑tent be completed, by a full cloſe both in the ſenſe and the ſound. There is no re⯑ſtraint, other than that this full cloſe be at the end of a line. This reſtraint is neceſſa⯑ry in order to preſerve a coincidence be⯑twixt ſenſe and ſound; which ought to be aimed at in general, and is indiſpenſable in the caſe of a full cloſe, becauſe it has a ſtri⯑king effect. Hence the aptitude of blank verſe for inverſion; and conſequently the luſtre of its pauſes and accents; for which, as obſerved above, there is greater ſcope in inverſion, than when words run in their na⯑tural order.

[439] In the ſecond ſection of this chapter it is ſhown, that nothing contributes more than inverſion to the force and elevation of lan⯑guage. The couplets of rhyme confine inverſion within narrow limits. Nor would the elevation of inverſion, were there acceſs for it in rhyme, be extremely concordant with the humbler tone of that ſort of verſe. It is univerſally agreed, that the loftineſs of Milton's ſtyle ſupports admira⯑bly the ſublimity of his ſubject; and it is not leſs certain, that the loftineſs of his ſtyle ariſes chiefly from inverſion. Shake⯑ſpear deals little in inverſion. But his blank verſe, being a ſort of meaſured proſe, is perfectly well adapted to the ſtage. La⯑boured inverſion is there extremely impro⯑per, becauſe in dialogue it never can appear natural.

Hitherto I have conſidered the advantage of laying aſide rhyme, with reſpect to that ſuperior power of expreſſion which verſe acquires thereby. But this is not the only advantage of blank verſe. It has another not leſs ſignal of its kind; and that is, of a more extenſive and more complete melody. [440] Its muſic is not, like that of rhyme, con⯑fined to a ſingle couplet; but takes in a great compaſs, ſo as in ſome meaſure to rival muſic properly ſo called. The inter⯑vals betwixt its cadences may be long or ſhort at pleaſure; and, by this means, its modulation, with reſpect both to richneſs and variety, is ſuperior far to that of rhyme; and ſuperior even to that of the Greek and Latin Hexameter. Of this ob⯑ſervation no perſon can doubt who is ac⯑quainted with the Paradiſe Loſt. In that work there are indeed many careleſs lines; but at every turn it ſhines out in the richeſt melody as well as in the ſublimeſt ſenti⯑ments. Take the following ſpecimen.

Comparing the Latin Hexameter and Eng⯑liſh heroic rhyme, the former has obviouſly the advantage in the following particulars. It is greatly preferable as to arrangement, by the latitude it admits in placing the long and ſhort ſyllables. Secondly, the length of an Hexameter line hath a majeſtic air: ours, by its ſhortneſs, is indeed more briſk and lively, but much leſs fitted for the ſub⯑lime. And, thirdly, the long high-ſound⯑ing [442] words that Hexameter admits, add greatly to its majeſty. To compenſate theſe advantages, Engliſh rhyme poſſeſſes a greater number and greater variety both of pauſes and of accents. Theſe two ſorts of verſe ſtand indeed pretty much in oppoſi⯑tion: in the Hexameter, great variety of arrangement, none in the pauſes or accents: in the Engliſh rhyme, great variety in the pauſes and accents, very little in the ar⯑rangement.

In blank verſe are united, in a good mea⯑ſure, the ſeveral properties of Latin Hexa⯑meter and Engliſh rhyme; and it poſſeſſes beſide many ſignal properties of its own. It is not confined, like a Hexameter, by a full cloſe at the end of every line; nor, like rhyme, by a full cloſe at the end of every couplet. This form of conſtruction, which admits the lines to run into each other, gives it a ſtill greater majeſty than ariſes from the length of a Hexameter line. By the ſame means, it admits inverſion e⯑ven beyond the Latin or Greek Haxame⯑ter, which ſuffer ſome confinement by the regular cloſes at the end of every line. In [443] its muſic it is illuſtrious above all. The melody of Hexameter verſe, is circumſcri⯑bed to a line; and of Engliſh rhyme, to a couplet. The melody of blank verſe is under no confinement, but enjoys the ut⯑moſt privilege of which the melody of verſe is ſuſceptible, and that is to run hand in hand with the ſenſe. In a word, blank verſe is ſuperior to the Hexameter in many articles; and inferior to it in none, ſave in the latitude of arrangement, and in the uſe of long words.

In the French heroic verſe, there are found, on the contrary, all the defects of the Latin Hexameter and Engliſh rhyme, without the beauties of either. Subjected to the bondage of rhyme, and to the full cloſe at the end of each couplet, it is fur⯑ther peculiarly diſguſtful by the uniformity of its pauſes and accents. The line inva⯑riably is divided by the pauſe into two equal parts, and the accent is invariably placed before the pauſe.

[444] Here every circumſtance contributes to a moſt tedious uniformity. A conſtant re⯑turn of the ſame pauſe and of the ſame ac⯑cent, as well as an equal diviſion of every line; by which the latter part always an⯑ſwers to the former, and fatigues the ear without intermiſſion or change. I cannot ſet this matter in a better light, than by preſenting to the reader a French tranſla⯑tion of the following paſſage of Milton.

Were the pauſes of the ſenſe and ſound in this paſſage, but a little better aſſorted, no⯑thing in verſe could be more melodious. In [445] general, the great defect of Milton's verſi⯑fication, in other reſpects admirable, is the want of coincidence betwixt the pauſes of the ſenſe and ſound.

The tranſlation is in the following words.

Here the ſenſe is fairly tranſlated, the words are of equal power, and yet how in⯑ferior the melody!

[446] I take the liberty to add here a ſpecula⯑tion, which, though collateral only, ariſes naturally from the ſubject, and ſhall be diſ⯑cuſſed in a few words. Many attempts have been made to introduce Hexameter verſe into the living languages, but without ſucceſs. The Engliſh language, I am in⯑clined to believe, is not ſuſceptible of this melody; and my reaſons are theſe. Firſt, the polyſyllables in Latin and Greek are finely diverſified by long and ſhort ſyllables, a circumſtance that qualifies them for the melody of Hexameter verſe. Ours are ex⯑tremely ill qualified for this ſervice, becauſe they ſuperabound in ſhort ſyllables. Se⯑condly, the bulk of our monoſyllables are arbitrary with regard to length, which is an unlucky circumſtance in Hexameter. Cuſtom, as obſerved above, may render fa⯑miliar a long or ſhort pronunciation of the ſame word: but the mind wavering be⯑twixt the two ſounds, cannot be ſo much affected with either, as with a word that hath always the ſame ſound; and for that reaſon, arbitrary ſounds are ill fitted for a melody which is chiefly ſupported [447] by quantity. In Latin and Greek Hexa⯑meter, invariable ſounds direct and aſcer⯑tain the melody: Engliſh Hexameter would be deſtitute of melody, unleſs by artful pronunciation; becauſe of neceſſity the bulk of its ſounds muſt be arbitrary. The pronunciation is eaſy in a ſimple move⯑ment of alternate ſhort and long ſyllables; but would be perplexing and unpleaſant in the diverſified movement of Hexameter verſe.

Rhyme makes ſo great a figure in mo⯑dern poetry, as to deſerve a ſolemn trial. I have for that reaſon reſerved it to be ex⯑amined with ſome deliberation; in order to diſcover, if poſſible, its peculiar beauties, and the degree of merit it is intitled to. The firſt view of this ſubject leads naturally to the following reflection, ‘"That rhyme having no relation to ſentiment, nor any effect upon the ear other than a mere jingle, ought to be baniſhed all com⯑poſitions of any dignity, as affording but a trifling and childiſh pleaſure."’ It will alſo be obſerved, ‘"That a jingle of words [448] hath in ſome meaſure a ludicrous effect; witneſs the celebrated poem of Hudibras, the double rhymes of which contribute no ſmall ſhare to its drollery; that this effect would be equally remarkable in a ſerious work, were it not obſcured by the nature of the ſubject; that having how⯑ever a conſtant tendency to give a ludi⯑crous air to the compoſition, it requires more than ordinary fire to ſupport the dig⯑nity of the ſentiments againſt ſuch an un⯑dermining anotagoniſt^*."’

Theſe arguments are ſpecious, and have undoubtedly ſome weight. Yet, on the o⯑ther hand, it ought to be conſidered, that rhyme, in later times, has become univer⯑ſal among men as well as children; and that to give it a currency, it muſt have ſome foundation in human nature. In fact, it has been ſucceſsfully employ'd by poets of genius, in their ſerious and grave compoſi⯑tions, as well as in thoſe which are more light and airy. Here, in weighing autho⯑rity [449] againſt argument, the balance ſeems to hang pretty even; and therefore, to come at any thing deciſive, we muſt pierce a little deeper.

Muſic has great power over the ſoul; and may be ſucceſsfully employ'd to in⯑flame or ſooth our paſſions, if not actually to raiſe them. A ſingle ſound, however ſweet, is not muſic; but a ſingle ſound re⯑peated after proper intervals, may have an effect upon the mind, by rouſing the at⯑tention and keeping the hearer awake. A variety of ſimilar ſounds, ſucceeding each other after regular intervals, muſt have a ſtill ſtronger effect. This is applicable to rhyme, which conſiſts in the connec⯑tion that two verſe-lines have by cloſing with two words ſimilar in ſound. And conſidering deliberately the effect that this may have; we find, that it rouſes the atten⯑tion, and produceth an emotion moderately gay without dignity or elevation. Like the murmurings of a brook gliding through pebbles, it calms the mind when perturbed, and gently raiſes it when ſunk. Theſe ef⯑fects are ſcarce perceived when the whole [450] poem is in rhyme; but are extremely re⯑markable by contraſt, in the couplets which cloſe the ſeveral acts of our later tragedies. The tone of the mind is ſenſibly varied by them, from anguiſh, diſtreſs, or melancho⯑ly, to ſome degree of eaſe and alacrity. For the truth of this obſervation, I appeal to the ſpeech of Jane Shore in the fourth act, when her doom was pronounced by Glo'⯑ſter; to the ſpeech of Lady Jane Gray at the end of the firſt act; and to that of Ca⯑liſta, in the Fair Penitent, when ſhe leaves the ſtage, about the middle of the third act. The ſpeech of Alicia, at the cloſe of the fourth act of Jane Shore, puts the matter beyond doubt. In a ſcene of deep diſtreſs, the rhymes which finiſh the act, produce a certain gaiety and chearfulneſs, far from according with the tone of the paſſion.

Having deſcribed, the beſt way I can, the impreſſion that rhyme makes on the mind; I proceed to examine whether rhyme be proper for any ſubject, and to what ſubjects in particular it is beſt ſuited. Great and elevated ſubjects, which have a powerful influence, claim juſtly the pre⯑cedence in this inquiry. In the chapter of grandeur and ſublimity, it is eſtabliſhed, that a grand or ſublime object, inſpires a warm enthuſiaſtic emotion diſdaining ſtrict regularity and order. This obſervation is applicable to the preſent point. The mo⯑derately-enlivening muſic of rhyme, gives a tone to the mind very different from that of grandeur and ſublimity. Suppoſing then [452] an elevated ſubject to be expreſſed in rhyme, what muſt be the effect? The intimate union of the muſic with the ſubject, pro⯑duces an intimate union of their emotions; one inſpired by the ſubject, which tends to elevate and expand the mind; and one in⯑ſpired by the muſic, which, confining the mind within the narrow limits of regular cadency and ſimilar ſound, tends to prevent all elevation above its own pitch. Emotions ſo little concordant, cannot in union have a happy effect.

But it is ſcarce neceſſary to reaſon upon a caſe, that never did, and probably never will happen, viz. an important ſubject clo⯑thed in rhyme, and yet ſupported in its ut⯑moſt elevation. A happy thought or warm expreſſion, may at times give a ſudden bound upward; but it requires a genius greater than has hitherto exiſted, to ſupport a poem of any length in a tone much more elevated than that of the melody. Taſſo and Arioſto ought not to be made ex⯑ceptions, and ſtill leſs Voltaire. And after all, where the poet has the dead weight of rhyme conſtantly to ſtruggle with, how [453] can we expect an uniform elevation in a high pitch; when ſuch elevation, with all the ſupport it can receive from language, re⯑quires the utmoſt effort of the human ge⯑nius?

But now, admitting rhyme to be an unfit dreſs for grand and lofty images; it has one advantage however, which is, to raiſe a low ſubject to its own degree of elevation. Ad⯑diſon^* obſerves, ‘"That rhyme, without any other aſſiſtance, throws the language off from proſe, and very often makes an indifferent phraſe paſs unregarded; but where the verſe is not built upon rhymes, there, pomp of ſound and energy of ex⯑preſſion are indiſpenſably neceſſary, to ſupport the ſtyle and keep it from falling into the flatneſs of proſe."’ This effect of rhyme is remarkable in the French verſe, which, being ſimple and natural and in a good meaſure unqualified for inverſion, rea⯑dily ſinks down to proſe where it is not ar⯑tificially ſupported. Rhyme, by rouſing the mind, raiſes it ſomewhat above the [454] tone of ordinary language: rhyme there⯑fore is indiſpenſable in the French tragedy; and may be proper even for their comedy. Voltaire^* aſſigns this very reaſon for adhe⯑ring to rhyme in theſe compoſitions. He indeed candidly owns, that even with the ſupport of rhyme, the tragedies of his coun⯑try are little better than converſation-pieces. This ſhows, that the French language is weak, and an improper dreſs for any grand ſubject. Voltaire was ſenſible of this im⯑perfection; and yet Voltaire attempted an epic poem in that language.

The chearing and enlivening power of rhyme, is ſtill more remarkable in poems of ſhort lines, where the rhymes return upon the ear in a quick ſucceſſion. And for that reaſon, rhyme is perfectly well ad⯑apted to gay, light, and airy ſubjects. Witneſs the following.

For this reaſon, ſuch frequent rhymes are very improper for any ſevere or ſerious paſ⯑ſion: the diſſonance betwixt the ſubject and the modulation, is very ſenſibly felt. Witneſs the following.

[456] Rhyme is not leſs unfit for deep diſtreſs, than for ſubjects elevated and lofty; and for that reaſon has been long diſuſed in the Engliſh and Italian tragedy. In a work, where the ſubject is ſerious though not e⯑levated, it has not a good effect; becauſe the airineſs of the modulation agrees not with the gravity of the ſubject. The Eſſay on Man, which treats a ſubject great and important, would ſhow much better in blank verſe. Sportive love, mirth, gaiety, humour, and ridicule, are the province of rhyme. The boundaries aſſigned it by na⯑ture, were extended in barbarous and illi⯑terate ages, and in its uſurpations it has long been protected by cuſtom. But taſte in the fine arts, as well as in morals, im⯑proves daily; and makes a progreſs, ſlowly indeed, but uniformly, towards perfection: and there is no reaſon to doubt, that rhyme in Britain will in time be forc'd to abandon its unjuſt conqueſts, and to confine itſelf within its natural limits.

Having thrown out what occurred upon rhyme, I cloſe the ſection with a general [457] obſervation. The melody of articulate ſound ſo powerfully inchants the mind, as to draw a vail over very groſs faults and imper⯑fections. Of this power a ſtronger example cannot be given, than the epiſode of Ari⯑ſtaeus, which cloſes the fourth book of the Georgies. To renew a ſtock of bees when the former is loſt, Virgil aſſerts, that they will be produced in the intrails of a bullock, ſlain and managed in a certain manner. This leads him to ſay, how this ſtrange receipt was invented; which is as follows. Ariſtaeus having loſt his bees by diſeaſe and famine, never dreams of employing the ordinary means for obtaining a new ſtock; but, like a froward child, complains heavily of his misfortune to his mother Cyrene, a water⯑nymph. She adviſes him to conſult Pro⯑teus, a ſea-god, not how he was to obtain a new ſtock, but only by what fatality he had loſt his former ſtock; adding, that violence was neceſſary, becauſe Proteus would ſay nothing voluntarily. Ariſtaeus, ſatisfied with this advice, though it gave him no proſpect of repairing his loſs, proceeds to execution. Proteus is catched ſleeping, [458] bound with cords, and compelled to ſpeak. He declares, that Ariſtaeus was puniſhed with the loſs of his bees, for attempting the chaſtity of Euridice, the wife of Orpheus; ſhe having got her death by the ſting of a ſerpent in flying his embraces. Proteus, whoſe ſullenneſs ought to have been con⯑verted into wrath by the rough treatment he met with, becomes on a ſudden cour⯑teous and communicative. He gives the whole hiſtory of Orpheus's expedition to hell in order to recover his ſpouſe; a very entertaining ſtory indeed, but without the leaſt relation to the affair on hand. Ariſtaeus returning to his mother, is adviſed to de⯑precate by ſacrifices the wrath of Orpheus, who was now dead. A bullock is ſacrificed, and out of the intrails ſpring miraculouſly a ſwarm of bees. How ſhould this have led any mortal to think, that, without a miracle, the ſame might be obtained natu⯑rally, as is ſuppoſed in the receipt?