picture is intolerable; because, in a picture, the objects must appear all of the same kind, wholly real, or wholly emblematical. For this reason, the history of Mary de Medicis, in the palace of Luxembourg, painted by Rubens, is unpleasant by a perpetual jumble of real and allegorical personages, which produce a discordance of parts, and an obscurity upon the whole; witness, in particular, the tablature representing the arrival of Mary de Medicis at Marseilles, where, together with the real personages, the Nereids and Tritons appear sounding their shells; such a mixture of fiction and reality in the same group is strangely absurd. The picture of Alexander and Roxana, described by Lucian, is gay and fanciful; but it suffers by the allegorical figures. It is not in the wit of man to invent an allegorical representation deviating farther from any shadow of resemblance, than one exhibited by Lewis XIV. anno 1664; in which an enormous chariot, intended to represent that of the sun, is dragged along, surrounded with men and women, representing the four ages of the world, the celestial signs, the seasons, the hours, &c.; a monstrous composition, suggested, probably, by Guido's tablature of Aurora, and still more absurd.

In an allegory, as well as in a metaphor, terms ought to be chosen that properly and literally are applicable to the representative subject; nor ought any circumstance to be added that is not proper to the representative subject, however justly it may be applicable, properly or figuratively, to the principal.

We proceed to the next head, which is, To examine in what circumstances these figures are proper, and in what improper. This inquiry is not altogether superseded by what is said upon the same subject in the chapter of Comparisons; because, upon trial, it will be found, that a short metaphor, or allegory, may be proper, where a simile, drawn out to a greater length, and in its nature more solemn, would scarce be relished. And first, A metaphor, like a simile, is excluded from

common conversation, and from the description of ordinary incidents.

Second, In expressing any severe passion that wholly occupies the mind, metaphor is improper. For which reason, the following speech of Macbeth is faulty:

Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more!
Macbeth doth murder sleep: the innocent sleep;
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of Care,
The birth of each day's life, sore Labor's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in Life's feast.
ACT II. Sc. 3.

The following example of deep despair, beside the highly figurative style, hath more the air of raving than

of sense:

Calista. Is it the voice of thunder, or my father?
Madness! confusion! let the storm come on,
Let the tumultuous roar drive all upon me,
Dash my devoted bark; ye surges, break it:
'Tis for my ruin that the tempest rises.
When I am lost, sunk to the bottom low,
Peace shall return, and all be calm_again.

FAIR PENITENT.-ACT IV.

The metaphor I next introduce is sweet and lively; but it suits not a fiery temper inflamed with passion. Parables are not the language of wrath, venting itself without restraint:

Chamont. You took her up a little tender flower,
Just sprouted on a bank, which the next frost
Had nipp'd; and, with a careful loving hand,
Transplanted her into your own fair garden,

Where the sun always shines: there long she flourish'd,
Grew sweet to sense, and lovely to the eye,
Till at the last a cruel spoiler came,

Cropt this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,
Then cast it like a loathsome weed away.

ORPHAN. ACT IV.

The following speech, full of imagery, is not natural

in grief and dejection of mind:

Gonsalez. O my son! from the blind dotage
Of a father's fondness, these ills arose.

For thee I've been ambitious, base, and bloody;
For thee I've plung'd into this sea of sin;
Stemming the tide with only one weak hand,

While t'other bore the crown (to wreath thy brow,)
Whose weight has sunk me ere I reach'd the shore.
MOURNING BRIDE.-ACT V. Sc. 6.

There is an enchanting picture of deep distress in Macbeth,* where Macduff is represented lamenting his wife and children, inhumanly murdered by the tyrant. Stung to the heart with the news, he questions the messenger over and over; not that he doubted the fact, but that his heart revolted against so cruel a misfortune. After struggling some time with his grief, he turns from his wife and children to their savage butcher, and then gives vent to his resentment, but still with manliness and dignity.

Oh! I could play the woman with mine eyes,

And braggart with my tongue. But, gentle Heav'n!

Cut short all intermission; front to front

Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself:

Within my sword's length set him. If he 'scape,

Then Heav'n forgive him too.

The whole scene is a delicious picture of human nature. One expression only seems doubtful; in examining the messenger, Macduff expresses himself thus:

He hath no children. All my pretty ones!

Did you say,

all? what, all? Oh, hell-kite! all? What! All my pretty little chickens and their dam, At one fell swoop!

Metaphorical expression, I am sensible, may sometimes be used with grace, where a regular simile would be intolerable; but there are situations so severe and dispiriting, as not to admit even the slightest metaphor. It requires great delicacy of taste to determine with firmness, whether the present case be of that kind; I incline to think it is; and yet I would not willingly alter a single word of this admirable scene.

But metaphorical language is proper when a man struggles to bear with dignity or decency a misfortune

* Act IV. Sc. 6.

T

however great: the struggle agitates and animates the mind:

Wolsey. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls as I do.

HENRY VIII.-ACT III. Sc. 6.

SECTION VII. Figure of Speech.

In the section immediately foregoing, a figure of speech is defined, "The using a word in a sense different from what is proper to it ;" and the new or uncommon sense of the word is termed the figurative sense. The figurative sense must have a relation to that which is proper; and the more intimate the relation is, the figure is the more happy. How ornamental this figure is to language, will not be readily imagined by any one who hath not given peculiar attention; and therefore I shall endeavor to unfold its capital beauties and advantages. In the first place, a word used figuratively, or in a new sense, suggests, at the same time, the sense it commonly bears: and thus it has the effect to present two objects; one signified by the figurative sense, which may be termed the principal object; and one signified by the proper sense, which may be termed accessory; the principal makes a part of the thought; the accessory is merely ornamental. In this respect, a figure of speech is precisely similar to concordant sounds in music, which, without contributing to the melody, makes it harmonious. I explain myself by examples. Youth, by a figure of speech, is termed the morning of life. This expression signifies youth, the principal object, which enters into the thought: it suggests, at the same time, the proper sense of morning; and this accessory object, being in itself beautiful, and connected by resemblance to the principal object,

is not a little ornamental. Imperious ocean is an example of a different kind, where an attribute is expressed figuratively: together with stormy, the figurative meaning of the epithet imperious, there is suggested its proper meaning, viz. the stern authority of a despotic prince; and these two are strongly connected by resemblance.

In the next place, this figure possesses a signal power of aggrandizing an object by the following means. Words which have no original beauty but what arises from their sound, acquire an adventitious beauty from their meaning: a word signifying any thing that is agreeable, becomes, by that means, agreeable; for the agreeableness of the object is communicated to its name. This acquired beauty, by the force of custom, adheres to the word even when used figuratively; and the beauty received from the thing it properly signifies, is communicated to the thing which it is made to signify figuratively. Consider the foregoing expression, imperious ocean, how much more elevated it is than stormy ocean.

Thirdly, this figure hath a happy effect, by preventing the familiarity of proper names. The familiarity of a proper name is communicated to the thing it signifies, by means of their intimate connexion; and the thing is thereby brought down in our own feeling. This bad effect is prevented by using a figurative word instead of the one that is proper; as, for example, when we express the sky by terming it the blue vault of heaven; for, though no work of art can compare with the sky in grandeur, the expression however is relished, because it prevents the object from being brought down by the familiarity of its proper name.

Lastly, by this figure, language is enriched, and rendered more copious; in which respect, were there no other, a figure of speech is a happy invention.

The beauties I have mentioned belong to every figure of speech. Several other beauties, peculiar to