Elements of Criticism, Volume II.

by Lord Henry Home Kames

SECT. IV.

VERSIFICATION.

THE music of verse, though handled by every grammarian, merits more attention than has been given it. The subject is intimately connected with human nature; and to explain it thoroughly, several nice and delicate feelings must be employ’d. Entering upon this subject, it occurs as a preliminary point, By what mark is verse distinguished from prose? The discussion 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 its construction. It is composed of feet, the number and variety of which are ascertained. 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 before they can with certainty pronounce whether the composition be prose or verse? This will hardly be maintained; and therefore, instead of rules, the ear must be appealed 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 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 syllables are of the same sort. A continued sound in the same tone, makes an impression that comes not up to any idea we have of music. The same note successively renewed 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 orderly 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 Latins, numerus, and we modulation or measure. 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, if by numerus he means modulation or musical measure. “Distinctio, et æqualium et sæpe variorum intervallorum percussio, numerum conficit; quem in cadentibus guttis, quod intervallis distinguuntur, notare possumus.” Falling drops, whether 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 cited, though his expression be a little unguarded[97].

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; considering especially, that in both, particular words are accented or pronounced in a higher tone than ordinary; and therefore that the difference betwixt them cannot consist in modulation merely. The observation is just; and it follows, that the distinction betwixt prose and verse, since it depends not on modulation merely, must arise from the difference of the modulation. This is precisely the case, though the difference cannot with any accuracy be explained in words. Verse is more musical than prose; and of the former, the modulation is more perfect than of the latter. The difference betwixt verse and prose, resembles the difference in music properly so called betwixt the song and the recitative. And the resemblance is not the less complete, that these differences, like the shades of colours, approximate sometimes so nearly as scarce to be discernible. A recitative in its movement approaches sometimes to the liveliness of a song; which on the other hand degenerates sometimes toward a plain recitative. Nothing is more distinguishable from prose, than the bulk of Virgil’s hexameters. Many of those composed by Horace, are very little removed from prose. Sapphic verse has a very sensible modulation. That on the other hand of an Iambic, is extremely faint[98].

This more perfect modulation of articulate sounds, is what distinguisheth verse from prose. Verse is subjected to certain inflexible 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 music with instruction. But are we for that reason to reject knowledge offered in a plainer dress? This would be ridiculous; for knowledge may be acquired without music, and music is entertaining independent of knowledge. Many there are, not less willing 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 English heroic verse; which perhaps will carry me farther than the reader may chuse to follow. The observations I shall have occasion to make, will at any rate be sufficient for a specimen; and these with proper variations may easily be transferred to the composition of other sorts of verse.

Before I enter upon particulars, it must be premised in general, that to verse of every kind, five things are of importance. 1st, The number of syllables that compose a verse. 2d, The different lengths of syllables, 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 essential to verse. If any of them be wanting, there cannot be that higher degree of modulation which distinguisheth verse from prose. To give a just notion of the fourth, it must be observed, that pauses are necessary 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 measure arbitrary, depending on the reader’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 hesitation, that their coincidence in verse is a capital beauty. But as it cannot be expected, in a long work especially, that every line should be so perfect; we shall afterward have occasion to see, that the pause necessary for sense must often, in some degree, 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 particular syllable is sounded in a higher tone; and this is termed accenting a syllable, or gracing 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 accented, 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 language. Let him consult in particular a period canto 2. beginning at line 47. and closed line 52. with the word gay, which only of the whole final syllables is pronounced 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 mentioned, enter the composition of every species of verse, they are however governed by different rules, peculiar to each species. Upon quantity only, one general observation may be premised, because it is applicable to every species of verse. Syllables, with respect to the time taken in pronouncing, are distinguished into long and short; two short syllables, 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 necessary for the modulation. A thing not more necessary occurs with respect to accenting, 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 entering upon particulars; and Latin or Greek Hexameter, which are the same, coming first in order, I shall exhaust what I have to say upon this species of verse, under the four following heads; of number, arrangement, pause, and accent; for as to quantity, 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 greatly 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 whether it be perfect or faulty, grammarians have invented a rule by Dactyles and Spondees, 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 pronunciation 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[99]. These feet then must be confined to their sole province of regulating the arrangement, for they serve no other purpose. They are withal so artificial and complex, that, neglecting 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 found in any part of the line, nor fewer than two if any. And, 3d, Two long syllables 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 affirmatively the construction of every part. That I may put this rule into words with the greater facility, I take a hint from the twelve long syllables that compose an Hexameter line, to divide it into twelve equal parts or portions, being each of them one long syllable or two short. This preliminary 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 syllable or two short; the 10th must be two short syllables; all the rest must consist of one long syllable. This fulfils all the conditions of an Hexameter line, and comprehends 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 following means. Every line invariably is finished 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 pronunciation, 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 melody. I discover two clearly, and perhaps there may be more. The longest and most remarkable, succeeds the 5th portion, according to the foregoing measure. The other, which being more faint, may be called the semipause, succeeds the 8th portion. So striking is the pause first mentioned, as to be distinguished even by the rudest ear. The monkish rhymes are evidently built upon it. In these, it is an invariable rule, to make the final word chime with that which immediately precedes the pause:

De planctu endo || mitrum cum carmine nudo
Mingere cum bumbis || res est soluberrima lumbis.

The difference of time in the pause and semipause, occasions another difference not less remarkable. The pause ought regularly 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 examples.

Effusus labor, at||que inmitis rupta Tyranni

Again,

Observans nido im||plumes detraxit; at illa

Again,

Loricam quam De||moleo detraxerat ipse

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

Jamque pedem referens || casus e|vaserat omnes.

Again,

Qualis populea || mœrens Philo|mela sub umbra

Again,

Ludere quæ vellem || calamo per|misit agresti.

Lines, however, where words are left entire to be pronounced as they ought to be, without being divided even by a semipause, run by that means much the more sweetly.

Nec gemere aërea || cessabit | turtur ab ulmo.

Again,

Quadrupedante putrem || sonitu quatit | ungula campum.

Again,

Eurydicen toto || referebant | flumine ripæ.

The reason of these observations, will be evident upon the slightest reflection. Betwixt things so intimately connected as sense and sound in pronunciation, to find discordance 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 to the pause. A deviation from the rule is less remarkable in a semipause, which makes but a slight impression. Considering 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 transition of ideas transferred to the sound, with which the sense is intimately connected; 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[100].

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:

Pupillis quos dura || premit custodia matrum

Again,

In terris oppressa || gravi sub religione

Again,

Et quorum pars magna || fui; quis talia fando

This contributes to diversify the melody; and where the words are smooth and liquid, is not ungraceful; as in the following examples.

Formosam resonare || doces Amaryllida sylvas

Again,

Agricolas, quibus ipsa || procul discordibus armis

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.

Romæ mœnia terru||it impiger | Hannibal armis

Hitherto the arrangement of the long and short syllables of an Hexameter line and 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[101]. One defect however must not be dissembled. The same means that contribute to the richness of the melody, render it less fit than several other sorts for a narrative poem. With regard to the melody, as above observed, there cannot be a more artful contrivance than to close an Hexameter line with two long syllables preceded 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 and the words in which it is dressed, so in particular, every close in the sense, complete and incomplete, ought to be accompanied with a similar close in the sound. In the composition of prose, there is sufficient latitude for applying this rule in the strictest manner. But the same strictness in verse, would occasion insuperable difficulties. Some share of the concordance betwixt thought and expression, may be justly 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 reason, 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; 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, cannot fail to be disagreeable.

The accent, to which we proceed, is not less essential than the other circumstances above 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 succeeds the 5th portion, and the semipause, which succeeds the 8th:

Nec bene promeritis || capitûr nec | tangitur ira

Again,

Non sibi sed toto || genitûm se | credere mundo

Again,

Qualis spelunca || subitô com|mota columba

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 foregoing lines with the following.

Alba neque Assyrio || fucâtur | lana veneno

Again,

Panditur interea || domus ômnipo|tentis Olympi

Again,

Olli sedato || respôndit | corde Latinus

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

Nuda genu, nodôque || sinûs col|lecta fluentes

Again,

Formosam resonâre || docês Amar|yllida sylvas

Beside this capital accent, slighter accents are laid upon other portions; particularly 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 monosyllable. Such conclusion, by the by, lessens the melody, and for that reason is not to be indulged unless where it is expressive of the sense. The following lines are marked with all the accents.

Ludere quæ vêllem calamô permîsit agresti

Again,

Et duræ quêrcus sudâbunt rôscida mella

Again,

Parturiunt môntes, nascêtur rîdiculûs mus

Inquiring into the melody of Hexameter verse, we soon discover, that order or arrangement doth not constitute the whole of it. Comparing different lines, equally regular as to the succession of long and short syllables, the melody is found in very different degrees of perfection. Nor does the difference arise from any particular combination 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:

Æneadum genetrix hominum divumque voluptas.

Of the latter:

Molli paulatim flavescet campus arista.

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

Spond. Dact. Spond. Spond. Dact. Spond.
Ad talos stola dimissa et circumdata palla. Hor.

Spond. Dact. Spond. Spond. Dact. Spond.
Placatumque nitet diffuso lumine cœlum. Lucret.

In the former, the pause falls in the middle 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 sounding. In these particulars consists the beauty of an Hexameter line with respect to melody; 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 divided 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 instances.

Candida rectaque sit, munda hactenus sit neque longa.
Jupiter exclamat simul atque audirit; at in se
Custodes, lectica, ciniflones, parasitæ
Optimus est modulator, ut Alfenus Vafer omni
Nunc illud tantum quæram, meritone tibi sit.

Next in order comes English heroic verse, which shall be examined under the whole five heads, of number, quantity, arrangement, pause, and accent. This verse sometimes 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 syllables; 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 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:

There hero’s wits are kept in pond’rous vases,
And beau’s in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases.

The piece, you think, is incorrect? Why, take it;
I’m all submission; what you’d have it, make it.

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

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

A needless Alexandrine ends the song,
That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.

It doth extremely well when employ’d to close a period with a certain pomp and solemnity suitable to the subject.

With regard to the second article, it is unnecessary to mention a second time, that the quantities employ’d in verse are but two, the one double of the other; that every syllable 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 peculiarities there may be in the English language 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 frequent in dissyllables; but as to monosyllables, 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 English verse must depend less upon quantity, than upon other circumstances. In that particular it differs widely from Latin verse. There, every syllable having but one sound, strikes the ear constantly with its accustomed impression; and a reader must be delighted to find a number of such syllables, disposed so artfully as to raise a lively sense of melody. Syllables variable in quantity cannot possess this power. Custom may render familiar, both a long and short pronunciation 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 properly under the following head, of arrangement.

And with respect to arrangement, which may be brought within a narrow compass, the English heroic line is commonly Iambic, the first syllable short, the second long, and so on alternately through the whole line. One exception there is, pretty frequent. Many lines commence with a Trochæus, viz. a long and a short syllable. But this affects not the order of the following syllables. These go on alternately as usual, one short and one long. The following couplet affords an example of each kind:

Sōme ĭn thĕ fīelds ŏf pūrĕst ǣthĕr plāy,
Ănd bāsk ănd whītĕn īn thĕ blāze ŏf dāy.

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 examination 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. Magnanimity is a sounding word totally excluded. Impetuosity is still a finer word by the resemblance of the sound and sense; and yet a negative is put upon it, as well as upon numberless words of the same kind. Polysyllables composed of syllables long and short alternately, make a good figure in verse; for example, observance, opponent, ostensive, pindaric, productive, prolific, and such others of three syllables. Imitation, imperfection, misdemeanour, mitigation, moderation, observator, ornamental, regulator, and others similar of four syllables, beginning with two short syllables, the third long, and the fourth short, may find a place in a line commencing with a Trochæus. 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:

Thĭs nȳmph, tŏ thē dĕstrūctiŏn ōf mănkīnd,

Again:

Th’ ădvēnt’rŏus bārŏn thē brĭght lōcks ădmīr’d.

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.

And old impertinence || expel by new.

With varying vanities || from ev’ry part.

Love in these labyrinths || his slaves detains.

New stratagems || the radiant lock to gain.

Her eyes half-languishing || half-drown’d in tears.

Roar’d for the handkerchief || that caus’d his pain.

Passions like elements || though born to fight.

The great variety of modulation conspicuous in English verse, will be found upon trial to arise chiefly from the pauses and accents; 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 require some pains to give a distinct view of it. But we must not be discouraged by difficulties. The pause, which paves the way to the accent, offers itself first to our examination. From a very short trial, the following 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 particulars lay a solid foundation for dividing English heroic lines into four sorts, distinguished by the different places of the pause. Nor is this an idle distinction. On the contrary, unless it be kept in view, we cannot 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 sufficiently 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 consequently, 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, with a pause in the sense; in order that the sound may accord with the sense.

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

Back through the paths || of pleasing sense I ran

Again,

Profuse of bliss || and pregnant with delight

After the 5th:

So when an angel || by divine command,
With rising tempests || shakes a guilty land,

After the 6th:

Speed the soft intercourse || from soul to soul

Again,

Then from his closing eyes || thy form shall part

After the 7th:

And taught the doubtful battle || where to rage

Again,

And in the smooth description || murmur still

Beside the capital pause now mentioned, other inferior or semipauses will be discovered 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 syllable, 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:
Led | through a sad || variety | of wo.
1st and 7th:
Still | on that breast || enamour’d | let me lie
2d and 8th:
From storms | a shelter || and from heat | a shade

2d and 6th:
Let wealth | let honour || wait | the wedded dame
2d and 7th:
Above | all pain || all passion | and all pride

Even from these few examples, it appears, 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 placing 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 sacrificed to sense.

In discoursing of the full pause in a Hexameter line, it is laid down as a rule, That it ought never to divide a word. Such licence deviates too far from the connection 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.

A noble super||fluity it craves
Abhor, a perpe||tuity should stand

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

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

Relent|less walls || whose darksome round | contains
For her | white virgins || hyme|neals sing
In these | deep solitudes || and aw|ful cells

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 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 order 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 difficulty 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 however 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 unpleasant. The following line, for example, cannot be pronounced with a pause as marked.

If Delia smile, the || flow’rs begin to spring

But ought to be pronounced in the following manner.

If Delia smile, || the flow’rs begin to spring.

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 incapable of such separation. I shall endeavour 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 eligible method to run over the verbal relations, beginning with the most intimate. The first that presents itself, is that of adjective and substantive, being the relation of substance and quality, the most intimate of all. A quality cannot exist independent of a substance, nor is it separable from it even in imagination, because they 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 interjecting a pause betwixt it and its substantive. I cannot therefore approve the following lines, nor any of the sort; for to my taste they are harsh and unpleasant.

Of thousand bright || inhabitants of air

The sprites of fiery || termagants inflame

The rest, his many-colour’d || robe conceal’d

The same, his ancient || personage to deck

Ev’n here, where frozen || Chastity retires

I sit, with sad || civility, I read

Back to my native || moderation slide

Or shall we ev’ry || decency confound

Time was, a sober || Englishman wou’d knock

And place, on good || security, his gold

Taste, that eternal || wanderer, which flies

But ere the tenth || revolving day was run

First let the just || equivalent be paid

Go, threat thy earth-born || Myrmidons; but here

Haste to the fierce || Achilles’ tent (he cries)

All but the ever-wakeful || eyes of Jove

Your own resistless || eloquence employ

I have upon this article multiplied examples, that in a case where I have the misfortune 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 discover this to be a mistake. Colour cannot be conceived independent of the surface coloured; but a tree may be conceived, as growing in a certain spot, as of a certain 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 considered 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 substantive, the proposition does not reciprocate. An image can be formed of the substantive independent of the adjective; and for this reason, they may be separated by a pause, when the former is introduced before the latter:

For thee, the fates || severely kind ordain
And curs’d with hearts || unknowing how to yield.

The verb and adverb are precisely in the same condition with the substantive and adjective. An adverb, which expresses a certain modification of the action expressed by the verb, is not separable from it even in imagination. And therefore I must also give up the following lines.

And which it much || becomes you to forget
’Tis one thing madly || to disperse my store

But an action may be conceived leaving out a particular modification, precisely as a subject may be conceived leaving out a particular quality; and therefore when by inversion 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:

While yet he spoke, the Prince advancing drew
Nigh to the lodge, &c.

The agent and its action come next, expressed in grammar by the active substantive 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 as rest must precede the commencement of motion, this interval is a proper opportunity for a pause.

On the other hand, when by inversion the verb is placed first, is it lawful to separate it by a pause from the active substantive? 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 exceptionable, upon account of the pause thus interjected betwixt the verb and the consequent substantive; and I have now discovered a reason to support my taste:

In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
Where heav’nly-pensive || Contemplation dwells,
And ever-musing || Melancholy reigns.

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 without 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 passive; and they are connected by one circumstance 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 agent, 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 moment. The subtilising to such a degree is not agreeable, especially in works of imagination. 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.

The peer now spreads || the glitt’ring forfex wide

As ever sully’d || the fair face of light

Repair’d to search || the gloomy cave of Spleen

Nothing, to make || philosophy thy friend

Shou’d chance to make || the well-dress’d rabble stare

Or cross, to plunder || provinces, the main

These madmen never hurt || the church or state

How shall we fill || a library with wit

What better teach || a foreigner the tongue?

Sure, if I spare || the minister, no rules
Of honour bind me, not to maul his tools.

On the other hand, when the passive subject 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 may always be conceived independent of the verb. When the passive subject is introduced before the verb, we know not that an action is to be exerted upon it; therefore we may rest till the action commences. For the sake of illustration take the following examples.

Shrines! where their vigils || pale-ey’d virgins keep

Soon as thy letters || trembling I unclose

No happier task || these faded eyes pursue

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 better opportunity for a pause. Upon this depends one of the great advantages that blank verse hath over rhyme. The privilege 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.

We now proceed to the slighter connections, which shall be discussed in one general article. Words connected by conjunctions and prepositions freely admit a pause betwixt them, which will be clear from the following instances.

Assume what sexes || and what shape they please

The light militia || of the lower sky

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 betwixt 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, prepositions, articles, and such like accessories, 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? Whether, for example, in the following lines, the separation of the accessory preposition from the principal substantive, be according to rule?

The goddess with || a discontented air

And heighten’d by || the diamond’s circling rays

When victims at || yon altar’s foot we lay

So take it in || the very words of Creech

An ensign of || the delegates of Jove

Two ages o’er || his native realm he reign’d

While angels, with || their silver wings o’ershade

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

Talthybius and || Eurybates the good

It will be obvious at the first glance, that the foregoing reasoning upon objects naturally 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 totally 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 required by the melody, as will afterward appear. But it is ridiculous to accent or put an emphasis upon a low word that raises no idea, and is confined to the humble province of connecting words that raise ideas. And for that reason, a line must be disagreeable where a particle immediately precedes the full pause; for such construction 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 resembles greatly the concluding pause in a Hexameter line. Both of them indeed are so remarkable, that they never can be graceful, 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 transgressed. In Pope’s works, upon a cursory search indeed, I found but the following deviations from the rule.

Nothing is foreign: parts relate to whole;
One all extending, all-preserving soul
Connects each being——

Another:

To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow’rs,
To steal from rainbows ere they drop in show’rs
A brighter wash——

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 wounded or obscured by the music; and upon that account, I condemn the following lines:

Ulysses, first || in public cares, she found.

And,

Who rising, high || th’ imperial sceptre rais’d.

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 inverted. And it may be added, that when 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 measure even by pauses in the sense, that the parts may be distinctly known. Take the following examples.

As with cold lips || I kiss’d the sacred veil.
With other beauties || charm my partial eyes.
Full in my view || set all the bright abode.
With words like these || the troops Ulysses rul’d.
Back to th’ assembly roll || the thronging train.
Not for their grief || the Grecian host I blame.

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

For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease
Assume what sexes and what shapes they please.

The pause is tolerable even at the close of the couplet, for the reason just now suggested, that inverted members require some slight pause in the sense:

’Twas where the plane-tree spread its shades around:
The altars heav’d; and from the crumbling ground
A mighty dragon shot.

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 intimately connected. One would conjecture, that where-ever words are separable by interjecting a circumstance, they should be equally 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 separated 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 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, betwixt 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 peculiarity 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 versification. This imperfection will be discerned by a fine ear even in the shortest succession, 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 uniformity 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.

By foreign hands || thy dying eyes were clos’d,
By foreign hands || thy decent limbs compos’d,
By foreign hands || thy humble grave adorn’d.

Again,

Bright as the sun, || her eyes the gazers strike,
And, like the sun, || they shine on all alike.

Speaking of Nature, or the God of Nature:

Warms in the sun || refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars || and blossoms in the trees,
Lives through all life || extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided || operates unspent.

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 melody 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 doctrine holds true so far as melody alone is concerned, every good ear will bear testimony. At the same time, examples are not unfrequent, in Milton especially, of the capital pause being after the first, the second, 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, will be clear from the following example. Pope, in his translation of Homer, describes a rock broke off from a mountain, and hurling to the plain, in the following words.

From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds;
At every shock the crackling wood resounds;
Still gath’ring force, it smokes; and urg’d amain,
Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain:
There stops || So Hector. Their whole force he prov’d,
Resistless when he rag’d; and when he stopt, unmov’d.

In the penult line the proper place of the musical pause is at the end of the fifth syllable; but it enlivens the expression by its coincidence with that of the sense at the end of the second syllable. The stopping 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. Milton makes a happy use of this licence; witness the following examples from his Paradise Lost.

—————— Thus with the year
Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day || or the sweet approach of even or morn.

Celestial voices to the midnight-air
Sole || or responsive each to others note.

And over them triumphant Death his dart
Shook || but delay’d to strike.

—— And wild uproar
Stood rul’d || stood vast infinitude confin’d.

———— And hard’ning in his strength
Glories || for never since created man
Met such embodied force.

From his slack hand the garland wreath’d for Eve
Down drop’d || and all the faded roses shed.

Of unessential night, receives him next,
Wide gaping || and with utter loss of being
Threatens him, &c.

——————For now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him || round he throws his baleful eyes, &c.

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 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 melody 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 practice. 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 observations, the doctrine of accenting English heroic verse, is extremely simple. In the first place, accenting is confined to the long syllables; for the melody admits not an accent upon any short syllable. In the next place, as the melody is inriched in proportion to the number of accents, every word that has a long syllable ought to be accented, 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 belongs to lines of the first and third order: the latter to those of the second and fourth. Examples of the first kind.

Smooth flow the wâves || the zephyrs gently play,
Belinda smîl’d || and all the world was gay.

He rais’d his azure wând || and thus begun

Examples of the second.

There lay three gârters || half a pair of gloves;
And all the trôphies || of his former loves.

Our humble prôvince || is to tend the fair,
Not a less plêasing || though less glorious care.

And hew triumphal ârches || to the ground

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 capital 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 contributes more to the energy of verse, than to 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. ooo, 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.

Oft, leaving what || is natural and fit,

line 448.

Not yet purg’d off, || of spleen and sour disdain

l. 528.

No pardon vile || obscenity should find

l. 531.

When love was all || an easy monarch’s care

l. 537.

For ’tis but half || a judge’s talk, to know

l. 562.

’Tis not enough, || taste, judgement, learning, join

l. 563.

That only makes || superior sense belov’d

l. 578.

Whose right it is, || uncensur’d, to be dull

l. 590.

’Tis best sometimes || your censure to restrain

l. 597.

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

But of this frame the bearings, and the ties,
The strong connections, nice dependencies

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

In thêse deep sôlitudes || and aŵful cells

The pôor inhâbitant || behôlds in vain

To conclude this article, the accents are not, like the syllables, confined to a certain number. Some lines have no fewer than five, and there are lines that admit not above 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. Polysyllables 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 distinguishable 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 engagement. First, however, like a wary general, I take all advantages the ground will permit. I do not aver, that this peculiarity of modulation is in every instance perceptible. 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 united 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 avoid 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 preliminaries being adjusted, I begin with some general observations, that will save repeating the same thing over and over upon each particular case. And, first, an accent succeeded by a pause, makes sensibly a deeper impression than where the voice goes on without a stop: to make an impression requires 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 elevation, 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 accent 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 pronouncing 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 spirited air. When, on the other hand, the pause is separated from the accent by a short syllable, which always happens in lines of the second and fourth order, the pause is soft and gentle. This short unaccented syllable succeeding one that is accented, must of course be pronounced with a falling voice, which naturally prepares for a pause. The mind falls gently from the accented 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 syllable divides the line into two unequal portions, 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 redoubled 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 unequal portions, of which the shortest is last in order, it appears like a slow descending series; and the second portion being pronounced 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 circumstances 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 supported in its elevation by the sudden unprepared pause which rouses and animates: and the line itself, representing by its unequal division an ascending series, carries the mind still higher, making an impression similar 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 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 division 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 occasioned by this circumstance, is balanced in some degree by the remitted effort in pronouncing the second portion, which remitted effort has a tendency to rest. Another circumstance distinguisheth it remarkably. Its capital accent comes late, being placed on the sixth syllable; and this circumstance 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 qualified 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 peculiar as to produce a melody clearly distinguishable 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 elevation, which is display’d on the concluding syllable. By this means, a strong emphasis is naturally laid upon the concluding syllable, 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 accent. In the second order, the final accent 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 impression of ascent, cannot rival the first order in the elevation of its accent, nor consequently 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 arithmetical progression.

After what is said, will it be thought refining 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 sentiment that is bold, lively, or impetuous; that the third order is proper for subjects grave, solemn, or lofty; the second for what is tender, delicate, or melancholy, and in general for all the sympathetic emotions; 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 talk, than that assigned it. At that rate, no sort of modulation would be left for accompanying ordinary thoughts, that have nothing peculiar in them. I only venture to suggest, and I do it with diffidence, that one order is peculiarly adapted to certain subjects, and better qualified than the others for expressing such subjects. The best way to judge is by experiment; and to avoid the imputation of a partial search, I shall confine my instances to a single poem, beginning with the first order.

On her white breast, a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore.
Her lively looks, a sprightly mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes, and as unfix’d as those:
Favours to none, to all she smiles extends;
Oft she rejects, but never once offends.
Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike,
And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.
Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride,
Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide:
If to her share some female errors fall,
Look on her face, and you’ll forget ’em all.
Rape of the Lock.

In accounting for the remarkable liveliness of this passage, it will be acknowledged by every one who has an ear, that the modulation 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 versification. Who can doubt, that, in this passage, he has been led by delicacy of taste to employ the first order preferably to the others?

Second order.

Our humbler province is to tend the fair,
Not a less pleasing, though less glorious care;
To save the powder from too rude a gale,
Nor let th’ imprison’d essences exhale;
To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow’rs;
To steal from rainbows ere they drop their show’rs, &c.

Again,

Oh, thoughtless mortals! ever blind to fate,
Too soon dejected, and too soon elate.
Sudden, these honours shall be snatch’d away,
And curs’d for ever this victorious day.

Third order.

To fifty chosen sylphs, of special note,
We trust th’important charge, the petticoat.

Again,

Oh say what stranger cause, yet unexplor’d,
Could make a gentle belle reject a lord?

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 instances where this order is mixed with others.

Not louder shrieks to pitying Heav’n are cast,
When husbands, or when lapdogs, breathe their last.

Again,

Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,
And hew triumphal arches to the ground.

Again,

She sees, and trembles at th’ approaching ill,
Just in the jaws of ruin, and codille.

Again,

With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face,
He first the snuff-box open’d, then the case.

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

First and second orders.

Sol through white curtains shot a tim’rous ray,
And ope’d those eyes that must eclipse the day.

Again,

Not youthful kings in battle seiz’d alive,
Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,
Not ardent lovers robb’d of all their bliss,
Not ancient ladies when refus’d a kiss,
Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,
Not Cynthia when her manteau’s pinn’d awry,
E’er felt such rage, resentment, and despair,
As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravish’d hair.

First and third.

Think what an equipage thou hast in air,
And view with scorn two pages and a chair.

Again,

What guards the purity of melting maids,
In courtly balls, and midnight-masquerades,
Safe from the treach’rous friend, the daring spark,
The glance by day, the whisper in the dark?

Again,

With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre,
And breathes three am’rous sighs to raise the fire;
Then prostrate falls, and begs, with ardent eyes,
Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize.

Again,

Jove’s thunder roars, heav’n trembles all around,
Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound,
Earth shakes her nodding tow’rs, the ground gives way,
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!

Second and third.

Sunk in Thalestris’ arms, the nymph he found,
Her eyes dejected, and her hair unbound.

Again,

On her heav’d bosom hung her drooping head,
Which with a sigh she rais’d; and thus she said.

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 object 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 examination, it must exalt greatly the melody of English heroic verse. If uniformity prevail, in the arrangement, in the equality of the lines, and in the resemblance of the final sounds; variety is still more conspicuous in the pauses and accents, which are diversified in a surprising manner. The beauty that results from combined objects, is justly observed to consist in a due mixture of uniformity and variety[102]. Of this beauty many instances have already occurred, but none more illustrious than English versification. However rude it may be by the simplicity of arrangement, it is highly melodious by its pauses and accents, so as already to rival the most perfect species known in Greece or Rome. And it is no disagreeable prospect to find it susceptible of still greater refinement.

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 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 divides 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 occasion to observe the influence that sound and sense have upon each other by their intimate union. If a couplet be a complete period with regard to the melody, it ought regularly to be so also with regard to the sense. This, it is true, proves too great a cramp upon composition; and licences are indulged, as explained above. These however must be used with discretion, so as to preserve some degree of uniformity betwixt the sense and the music. 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 complete cadence. Rules such as these, must confine rhyme within very narrow bounds. A thought of any extent, cannot be reduced 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 order 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 accents 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 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 different lines; till a period of the utmost extent be completed, by a full close both in the sense and the sound. There is no restraint, other than that this full close be at the end of a line. This restraint is necessary in order to preserve a coincidence betwixt 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 striking 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 natural order.

In the second section of this chapter it is shown, that nothing contributes more than inversion to the force and elevation of language. 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 admirably the sublimity of his subject; and it is not less certain, that the loftiness of his style arises chiefly from inversion. Shakespear deals little in inversion. But his blank verse, being a sort of measured prose, is perfectly well adapted to the stage. Laboured inversion is there extremely improper, 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. Its music is not, like that of rhyme, confined to a single couplet; but takes in a great compass, so as in some measure to rival music properly so called. The intervals 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 observation no person can doubt who is acquainted 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 sentiments. Take the following specimen.

Now Morn her rosy steps in th’ eastern clime
Advancing, sow’d the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam wak’d, so custom’d, for his sleep
Was aëry light from pure digestion bred,
And temp’rate vapours bland, which th’ only sound
Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora’s fan,
Lightly dispers’d, and the shrill matin song
Of birds on every bough; so much the more
His wonder was to find unwaken’d Eve
With tresses discompos’d, and glowing cheek,
As through unquiet rest: he on his side
Leaning half-rais’d, with looks of cordial love
Hung over her enamour’d, and beheld
Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice
Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft touching, whisper’d thus. Awake
My fairest, my espous’d, my latest found,
Heav’n’s last best gift, my ever new delight,
Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh field
Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring
Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove,
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed,
How Nature paints her colours, how the bee
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet.
Book 1. l. 1.

Comparing the Latin Hexameter and English 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 sublime. And, thirdly, the long high-sounding 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 opposition: 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 arrangement.

In blank verse are united, in a good measure, the several properties of Latin Hexameter and English rhyme; and it possesses beside many signal properties of its own. If 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 even beyond the Latin or Greek Hexameter, which suffer some confinement by the regular closes at the end of every line. In its music it is illustrious above all. The melody of Hexameter verse, is circumscribed to a line; and of English rhyme, to a couplet. The melody of blank verse is under no confinement, but enjoys the utmost 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 further peculiarly disgustful by the uniformity of its pauses and accents. The line invariably is divided by the pause into two equal parts, and the accent is invariably placed before the pause.

Jeune et vaillant herôs || dont la haute sagesse
Ne’st point la fruit tardîf || d’une lente vieillesse.

Here every circumstance contributes to a most tedious uniformity. A constant return of the same pause and of the same accent, as well as an equal division of every line; by which the latter part always answers 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 translation of the following passage of Milton.

Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,
Godlike erect, with native honour clad
In naked majesty seem’d lords of all;
And worthy seem’d, for in their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shon,
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure,
Severe, but in true filial freedom plac’d;
Whence true authority in men: though both
Not equal, as their sex not equal seem’d;
For contemplation he and valour form’d,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace,
He for God only, she for God in him.

Were the pauses of the sense and sound in this passage, but a little better assorted, nothing in verse could be more melodious. In general, the great defect of Milton’s versification, in other respects admirable, is the want of coincidence betwixt the pauses of the sense and sound.

The translation is in the following words.

Ce lieu délicieux, ce paradis charmant,
Reçoit deux objets son plus bel ornement;
Leur port majestueux, et leur démarche altiere,
Semble leur meriter sur la nature entiere
Ce droit de commander que Dieu leur a donné.
Sur leur auguste front de gloire couronné,
Du souverain du ciel drille la resemblance:
Dans leur simples regards éclatte l’innocence,
L’adorable candeur, l’aimable vérité,
La raison, la sagesse, et la sévérité
Qu’adoucit la prudence, et cet air de droiture
Du visage des rois respectable parure.
Ces deux objets divins n’ont pas les mêmes traits,
Ils paroissent formés, quoique tous deux parfaits;
L’un pour la majesté, la force, et la noblesse;
L’autre pour la douceur, la grace, et la tendresse:
Celui-ci pour Dieu seul, l’autre pour l’homme encor.

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

I take the liberty to add here a speculation, which, though collateral only, arises naturally from the subject, and shall be discussed 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 inclined 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 extremely ill qualified for this service, because they superabound in short syllables. Secondly, the bulk of our monosyllables are arbitrary with regard to length, which is an unlucky circumstance in Hexameter. Custom, as observed above, may render familiar a long or short pronunciation of the same word: but the mind wavering betwixt the two sounds, cannot be so much arrested 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 by quantity. In Latin and Greek Hexameter, invariable sounds direct and ascertain 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 movement 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 modern poetry, as to deserve a solemn trial. I have for that reason reserved it to be examined 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 compositions of any dignity, as affording but a trifling and childish pleasure.” It will also be observed, “That a jingle of words 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 however a constant tendency to give a ludicrous air to the composition, it requires more than ordinary fire to support the dignity of the sentiments against such an undermining antagonist[103].”

These arguments are specious, and have undoubtedly some weight. Yet, on the other hand, it ought to be considered, that rhyme, in later times, has become universal 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 compositions, as well as in those which are more light and airy. Here, in weighing authority 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 inflame or sooth our passions, if not actually to raise them. A single sound, however sweet, is not music; but a single sound repeated after proper intervals, may have an effect upon the mind, by rousing the attention 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 connection 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 attention, 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 effects are scarce perceived when the whole poem is in rhyme; but are extremely remarkable 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 melancholy, 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 Calista, 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.

Alicia. For ever? Oh! For ever!
Oh! who can bear to be a wretch for ever!
My rival too! his last thoughts hung on her:
And, as he parted, left a blessing for her.
Shall she be bless’d, and I be curs’d, for ever!
No; since her fatal beauty was the cause
Of all my suff’rings, let her share my pains;
Let her, like me, of ev’ry joy forlorn,
Devote the hour when such a wretch was born:
Like me to deserts and to darkness run,
Abhor the day and curse the golden sun;
Cast ev’ry good and ev’ry hope behind;
Detest the works of nature, loathe mankind:
Like me with cries distracted fill the air,}
Tear her poor bosom, and her frantic hair, }
And prove the torments of the last despair.}

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 precedence 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 moderately-enlivening music of rhyme, gives a tone to the mind very different from that of grandeur and sublimity. Supposing then an elevated subject to be expressed in rhyme, what must be the effect? The intimate union of the music with the subject, produces an intimate union of their emotions; one inspired by the subject, which tends to elevate and expand the mind; and one inspired 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 clothed in rhyme, and yet supported in its utmost 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 exceptions, and still less Voltaire. And after all, where the poet has the dead weight of rhyme constantly to struggle with, how can we expect an uniform elevation in a high pitch; when such elevation, with all the support it can receive from language, requires the utmost effort of the human genius?

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. Addison[104] 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 expression 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, readily sinks down to prose where it is not artificially supported. Rhyme, by rousing the mind, raises it somewhat above the tone of ordinary language: rhyme therefore is indispensable in the French tragedy; and may be proper even for their comedy. Voltaire[105] assigns this very reason for adhering to rhyme in these compositions. He indeed candidly owns, that even with the support of rhyme, the tragedies of his country 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 imperfection; 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 adapted to gay, light, and airy subjects. Witness the following.

O the pleasing, pleasing anguish.
When we love, and when we languish!
Wishes rising,
Thoughts surprising,
Pleasure courting,
Charms transporting,
Fancy viewing,
Joys ensuing,
O the pleasing, pleasing anguish.
Rosamond, act 1. sc. 2.

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

Ardito ti renda,
T’accenda
Di sdegno
D’un figlio
Il periglio
D’un regno
L’ amor
E’ dolce ad un’ alma
Che aspetta
Vendetta
Il perder la calma
Fra l’ire del cor.
Metastasio. Artaserse, act 3. sc 3.

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 elevated, 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 nature, were extended in barbarous and illiterate ages, and in its usurpations it has long been protected by custom. But taste in the fine arts, as well as in morals, improves 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 observation. The melody of articulate sound so powerfully inchants the mind, as to draw a vail over very gross faults and imperfections. Of this power a stronger example cannot be given, than the episode of Aristæus, which closes the fourth book of the Georgics. 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. Aristæus 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 Proteus, 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. Aristæus, satisfied with this advice, though it gave him no prospect of repairing his loss, proceeds to execution. Proteus is catched sleeping, bound with cords, and compelled to speak. He declares, that Aristæus 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 converted into wrath by the rough treatment he met with, becomes on a sudden courteous 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. Aristæus returning to his mother, is advised to deprecate 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 naturally, as is supposed in the receipt?

A list of the different FEET, and of their NAMES.

1. Pyrrhichius, consists of two short syllables. Examples: Deus, given, cannot, hillock, running.

2. Spondeus, consists of two long syllables. Ex. omnes, possess, forewarn, mankind, sometime.

3. Iambus, composed of a short and a long. Ex. pios, intent, degree, appear, consent, repent, demand, report, suspect, affront, event.

4. Trochæus, or Choreus, a long and a short. Ex. fervat, whereby, after, legal, measure, burden, holy, lofty.

5. Tribrachys, three short. Ex. melius, property.

6. Molossus, three long. Ex. delectant.

7. Anapæstus, two short and a long. Ex. animos, condescend, apprehend, overheard, acquiesce, immature, overcharge, serenade, opportune.

8. Dactylus, a long and two short. Ex. carmina, evident, excellence, estimate, wonderful, altitude, burdened, minister, tenement.

9. Bacchius, a short and two long. Ex. dolores.

10. Hyppobacchius, or Antibacchius, two long and a short. Ex. pelluntur.

11. Creticus, or Amphimacer, a short syllable betwixt two long. Ex. infito, afternoon.

12. Amphibrachys, a long syllable betwixt two short. Ex. honore, consider, imprudent, procedure, attended, proposed, respondent, concurrence, apprentice, respective, revenue.

13. Proceleusmaticus, four short syllables. Ex. hominibus, necessary.

14. Dispondeus, four long syllables. Ex. infinitis.

15. Diiambus, composed of two Iambi. Ex. severitas.

16. Ditrochæus, of two Trochæi. Ex. permanere, procurator.

17. Ionicus, two short syllables and two long. Ex. properabant.

18. Another foot passes under the same name, composed of two long syllables and two short. Ex. calcaribus, possessory.

19. Choriambus, two short syllables betwixt two long. Ex. Nobilitas.

20. Antispastus, two long syllables betwixt two short. Ex. Alexander.

21. Pæon 1st, one long syllable and three short. Ex. temporibus, ordinary, inventory, temperament.

22. Pæon 2d, the second syllable long, and the other three short. Ex. potentia, rapidity, solemnity, minority, considered, imprudently, extravagant, respectfully, accordingly.

23. Pæon 3d, the third syllable long and the other three short. Ex. animatus, independent, condescendence, sacerdotal, reimbursement, manufacture.

24. Pæon 4th, the last syllable long and the other three short. Ex. Celeritas.

25. Epitritus 1st, the first syllable short and the other three long. Ex. voluptates.

26. Epitritus 2d, the second syllable short and the other three long. Ex. pænitentes.

27. Epitritus 3d, the third syllable short and the other three long. Ex. discordias.

28. Epitritus 4th, the last syllable short and the other three long. Ex. fortunatus.

29. A word of five syllables composed of a Pyrrhichius and Dactylus. Ex. ministerial.

30. A word of five syllables composed of a Trochæus and Dactylus. Ex. singularity.

31. A word of five syllables composed of a Dactylus and Trochæus. Ex. precipitation, examination.

32. A word of five syllables, the second only long. Ex. necessitated, significancy.

33. A word of six syllables composed of two Dactyles. Ex. impetuosity.

34. A word of six syllables composed of a Tribrachys and Dactyle. Ex. pusillanimity.

N. B. Every word may be considered as a prose foot, because every word is distinguished by a pause; and every foot in verse may be considered as a verse word, composed of syllables pronounced at once without a pause.

End of the Second Volume.

INDEX to Volume II.

[The volumes are denoted by numeral letters, the pages by figures.]

Abstract idea) defined iii. 402.
Abstract ideas of different kinds iii. 403.
Abstraction) power of iii. 401.
Its use iii. 402. 403.
Abstract terms) ought to be avoided in poetry i. 294. iii. 198.
Cannot be compared but by being personified iii. 6.
Personified iii. 65.
Defined iii. 402.
The use of abstract terms iii. 405.
Accent) defined ii. [361].
The musical accents that are necessary in an hexameter line ii. [376].
A low word must not be accented ii. [405].
Rules for accenting English heroic verse ii. [415].
How far affected by the pause ii. [422]. &
Accent and pause have a mutual influence ii. [428].
Action) what feelings are raised by human actions i. 48. 49. 276.
We are impelled to action by desire i. 55.
Some actions are ultimate, some are means leading to an end i. 57.
Actions great and elevated, low and groveling i. 276.
Emotions occasioned by propriety of action ii. [13].
Occasioned by impropriety of action ii. [14].
Human actions produce a great variety of emotions ii. [28].
Human actions considered with respect to dignity and meanness ii. [35].
We are conscious of internal action as in the head iii. 377.
Internal action may exist without our being conscious of it iii. 377.
Actor) bombast action i. 308.
An actor ought to feel the passion he represents ii. [153].
Admiration) defined i. 320.
Affectation) defined ii. [11].
Affection) to children accounted for i. 82.
To blood-relations accounted for i. 83.
To property accounted for i. 84.
Affection to children endures longer than any other affection i. 150.
Opinion and belief influenced by affection i. 199.
Affection defined ii. [87]. iii. 394.
Agamemnon) of Seneca censured ii. [193].
Agreeable emotions and passions i. 127. &
Alcestes) of Euripides censured iii. 286. 289.
Alexandre of Racine) censured ii. [177].
Allegory iii. 108. &c.
More difficult in painting than in poetry iii. 129.
In an historical poem iii. 248.
All for Love) of Dryden censured ii. [202].
Ambiguity) occasioned by a wrong arrangement ii. [297].
Amynta) of Tasso censured ii. [167].
_Amor patriæ_) accounted for i. 88.
Amphibrachys ii. [460].
Amphimacer ii. [460].
Analytic) and synthetic methods of reasoning compared i. 31.
Anapæstus ii. [460].
Anger) explained i. 95. &c.
Sometimes exerted against the innocent i. 191.
And even against things inanimate i. 191.
Not infectious i. 221.
Has no dignity in it ii. [33].
Animals) distributed by nature into classes iii. 356.
Antibacchius ii. [460].
Anticlimax ii. [345].
Antispastus ii. [461].
Antithesis ii. [73]. [262].
Verbal antithesis ii. [268].
Apostrophe iii. 87. &c.
Appearance) in poetry, things ought to be described as they appear,
not as they are in reality iii. 172.
Appetite) defined i. 59.
Appetites of hunger, thirst, animal love, arise without an object i. 73.
Appetite for fame or esteem i. 237.
Architecture ch. 24. iii. 294.
Grandeur of manner in architecture i. 294.
The situation of a great house ought to be lofty ii. [7].
A playhouse or a music-room susceptible of much ornament ii. [9].
What emotions can be raised by architecture iii. 297.
Its emotions compared with those of gardening iii. 297.
Every building ought to have an expression suited to its
destination iii. 298. 338.
Simplicity ought to be the governing taste iii. 300.
Regularity ought to be studied iii. 301.
External form of dwelling-houses iii. 324.
Divisions within iii. 324. 340.
A palace ought to be regular, but in a small house convenience ought chiefly
to be studied iii. 326.
The form of a dwelling-house ought to be suited to the climate iii. 327.
Propriety ought to be studied in architecture iii. 338.
Governed by principles which produce opposite effects iii. 342.
Different ornaments employed by it iii. 342.
Allegorical or emblematic ornaments iii. 347.
Architecture inspires a taste for neatness and regularity iii. 350.
Architrave iii. 344.
Ariosto) censured iii. 264.
Aristæus) the episode of Aristæus in the Georgics censured ii. [457].
Army) defined iii. 405.
Arrangement) the best arrangement of words is to place them as
much as possible in an increasing series ii. [251].
Articulate sounds) how far agreeable to the ear ii. [240].
Artificial mount iii. 313.
Ascent) pleasant, but descent not painful i. 273.
Athalie) of Racine censured ii. [193].
Attention) defined iii. 396.
Impression which objects make depends on the degree of attention iii. 396.
Attention not always voluntary iii. 398.
Attractive emotions ii. [133].
Attractive object i. 226.
Attributes) transferred from one subject: to another iii. 100. &c.
Avarice) defined i. 52.
Avenue) to a house iii. 312.
Aversion) defined ii. [87]. iii. 395.
Bacchius ii. [460].
Barren scene) defined iii. 266.
Base) of a column iii. 346.
Basso-relievo iii. 347.
Batrachomuomachia) censured ii. [42].
Beauty, ch. 3. i. 241.
Intrinsic and relative i. 244.
Beauty of simplicity i. 247.
of figure i. 248.
of the circle i. 251.
of the square i. 251.
of a regular polygon i. 252.
of a parallelogram i. 252.
of an equilateral triangle i. 253.
Beauty, whether a primary or secondary quality of objects i. 260.
Distinguished from congruity ii. [8].
Great beauty seldom produces a constant lover ii. [101].
Beauty proper and figurative iii. 388.
Belief) fortified by a lively narrative or a good historical painting i. 122.
influenced by passion i. 196. iii. 55. 89
influenced by propensity i. 199.
influenced by affection i. 199.
Benevolence) joins with self-love to make us happy i. 228.
inspired by gardening iii. 320.
Blank verse ii. [381]. [435].
Its aptitude for inversion ii. [438].
Its melody ii. [439]. &c.
Body) defined iii. 406.
Boileau) censured iii. 242.
Bombast i. 303.
Bombast in action i. 308.
Burlesk) machinery does well in a burlesk poem i. 125.
Burlesk distinguished into two kinds ii. [41].
Cadence ii. [348]. [362].
Capital) of a column iii. 346.
Careless Husband) its double plot well contrived iii. 253.
Cascade i. 314.
Cause) resembling causes may produce effects that have
no resemblance: and causes that have no
resemblance may produce resembling effects ii. [337]. &c.
Cause defined iii. 406.
Chance) the mind revolts against misfortunes that happen by chance iii. 232.
Character) to draw a character is the master-piece of description iii. 182.
Characteristics) of Shaftesbury criticised ii. [10]. Note.
Children) love to them accounted for i. 82.
Chinese gardens iii. 316.
Wonder and surprise studied in them iii. 319.
Choreus ii. [459].
Choriambus ii. [461].
Chorus) an essential part of the Grecian tragedy iii. 270.
Church) what ought to be its form and situation iii. 338.
Cicero) censured ii. [329]. [350].
Cid) of Corneille censured ii. [166]. [198].
Cinna) of Corneille censured ii. [11]. [161]. [194].
Circle) its beauty i. 251.
Circumstances) in a period, how they ought to be arranged ii. [314]. &c.
Class) all living creatures distributed into classes iii. 356.
Climax) in sense i. 281. ii. [322].
in sound ii. [252].
Coephores) of Eschylus censured ii. [114].
Coexistent) emotions and passions i. 151. &c.
Colonnade) where proper iii. 327.
Colour) a secondary quality i. 259.
Columns) every column ought to have a base i. 218.
The base ought to be square i. 218. 219.
Columns admit different proportions iii. 332.
What emotions they raise iii. 339.
Column more beautiful than a pilaster iii. 344.
Its form iii. 346.
Comedy) double plot in a comedy iii. 253.
Commencement) the commencement of a work ought
to be modest and simple iii. 171.
Common nature) in every species of animals iii, 356.
We have a conviction that this common nature is perfect or right iii. 357.
Also that it is invariable iii. 357.
Common sense iii. 359. 373.
Comparison i. 346. &c. Ch. 19. iii. 3.
Comparisons that resolve into a play of words iii. 42.
Complex emotion i. 152. 154. 155.
Complex perception iii. 383.
Complexion) white suits with a pale complexion,
black with a dark complexion, and scarlet
with one that is over-flushed i. 369.
Conception) defined iii. 379.
Concord) or harmony in objects of sight i. 156.
Concordant sounds) defined i. 151.
Congreve) censured iii. 258.
Congruity and propriety, ch. 10. ii. [3].
Congruity distinguished from beauty ii. [8].
distinguished from propriety ii. [8].
Congruity coincides with proportion with respect to quantity ii. [19].
Connection) necessary in all compositions i. 34.
Conquest of Granada) of Dryden censured ii. [201].
Consonants ii. [239].
Constancy) great beauty the cause generally of inconstancy ii. [101].
Construction) of language explained ii. [285].
Contempt) raised by improper action i. 340.
Contrast i. 345. &c.
Its effect in gardening iii. 317.
Conviction) intuitive. _See_ Intuitive conviction.
Copulative) to drop the copulatives enlivens the expression ii. [281]. &c.
Coriolanus) of Shakespear censured ii. [200].
Corneille) censured ii. [159]. [216].
Corporeal pleasure i. 1. 2.
low and sometimes mean ii. [32].
Couplet ii. [381].
Courage) of greater dignity than justice. Why? ii. [31].
Creticus ii. [460].
Criminal) the hour of execution seems to him
to approach with a swift pace i. 202.
Criticism) its advantages i. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.
its terms not accurately defined ii. [139].
Crowd) defined iii. 404.
Curiosity i. 320. 345. &c.
Custom and habit, ch. 14. ii. [81].
Custom distinguished from habit ii. [82].
Dactyle ii. [364]. &c. 460.
Declensions) explained ii. [288]. [289].
Delicacy) of taste i. 136.
Derision ii. [16].
Descent) not painful i. 273.
Description) it animates a description to
represent things past as present i. 118.
The rules which ought to govern it iii. 169. &c.
A lively description is agreeable, though
the subject described be disagreeable iii. 208.
Description cannot reach any object but
those of sight iii. 385.
Descriptive personification iii. 64.
Descriptive tragedy ii. [155].
Desire) defined i. 55.
It impels us to action i. 55.
It determines the will i. 222.
Desire in a criminal of self-punishment i. 232.
Desire tends the most to happiness when moderate i. 263.
Dialogue) dialogue-writing requires great genius ii. [151]. [152]. [153].
In dialogue every expression ought to be suited
to the character of the speaker iii. 196.
Rules for its composition iii. 256.
Dignity and meanness, ch. 11. ii. [27].
Dignity of human nature iii. 361.
Diianibus ii. [461].
Disagreeable emotions and passions i. 127. &c.
Discordant sounds) defined i. 152.
Dispondeus ii. [461].
Disposition) defined iii. 394.
Dissimilar emotions i. 153.
Their effects when co-existent i. 159. iii. 303. 337.
Dissimilar passions) their effects i. 171.
Dissocial passions i. 62.
Dissocial passions all painful i. 131.
and also disagreeable i. 134.
Ditrochæus ii. [461].
Door) its proportion iii. 322.
Double action) in an epic poem iii. 264.
Double-dealer) of Congreve censured ii. [193]. iii. 266.
Double plot) in a dramatic composition iii. 251.
Drama) ancient and modern drama compared iii. 280.
Dramatic poetry iii. 218. &c.
Drapery ought to hang loose i. 219.
Dress) rules about dress ii. [10]. iii. 300.
Dryden) censured iii. 128. 257. 267.
Duties) moral duties of two kinds, respecting
ourselves and respecting others ii. [20].
Foundation of duties that respect ourselves ii. [21].
Of those that respect others ii. [21].
Effects) resembling effects may be produced by causes
that have no resemblance ii. [337]. &c.
Effect defined iii. 406.
Electra) of Sophocles censured ii. [115].
Elevation i. 264. &c.
real and figurative intimately connected i. 279.
Figurative elevation distinguished from figurative grandeur iii. 21. 22.
Emotion) no pleasure of external sense except
of seeing and hearing is termed an _emotion_ or _passion_ i. 42.
Emotions defined i. 46. 47.
and their causes assigned i. 47. &c.
Emotion distinguished from passion i. 52. &c.
Emotions generated by relations i. 76. &c.
Primary, secondary i. 81.
Raised by fiction i. 104. &c.
Division of emotions into pleasant and painful,
agreeable and disagreeable i. 127. &c. iii. 387.
The interrupted existence of emotions i. 139. &c.
Their growth and decay i. 139. &c.
Their identity i. 141.
Co-existent emotions i. 151. &c.
Emotions similar and dissimilar i. 153.
Complex emotion i. 154. 155.
Effects of similar emotions when co-existent i. 155. iii. 336.
Effects of dissimilar emotions when co-existent i. 159. iii. 303. 337.
Emotions resemble their causes i. 217. &c.
Emotion of grandeur i. 266. &c.
of sublimity i. 269.
A low emotion i. 276.
Emotion of laughter i. 337.
of ridicule i. 341.
Emotions when contrasted ought not to be too slow
or too quick in their succession i. 373.
Emotions raised by the fine arts ought to be
contrasted in succession i. 374.
Emotion of congruity ii. [12].
of propriety ii. [12].
Emotions produced by human actions ii. [28].
Emotions ranked according to their dignity ii. [32].
External signs of emotions ch. 15. ii. [116].
Attractive and repulsive emotions ii. [133].
Emotion and passions expanded upon related objects
i. 76. &c. ii. [312]. &c. 336. 372. 415. 416. iii. 60. &c. 139. 140.
Gratification of emotions i. 183. &c. 203. 358. iii. 98.
What emotions do best in succession, what in conjunction iii. 302.
Man is passive with regard to his emotions iii. 377.
We are conscious of emotions as in the heart iii. 377.
Emphasis) must not be put upon a low word ii. [405].
Eneid) its unity of action iii. 263.
English plays) generally irregular iii. 292.
English tongue) too rough ii. [247].
It is peculiarly qualified for personification iii. 63. Note.
Envy) defined i. 55.
It magnifies every bad quality in its object i. 187.
Epic poem) no improbable fact ought to be admitted in it i. 124.
Machinery in it has a bad effect i. 125.
It doth not always reject ludicrous images i. 378.
We pardon many faults in it which are intolerable
in a sonnet or epigram i. 299.
Its commencement ought to be modest and simple iii. 171.
In what respect it differs from a tragedy iii. 218.
Distinguished into pathetic and moral iii. 221.
Its good effects iii. 223.
Compared with tragedy as to the subjects proper for each iii. 225.
How far it may borrow from history iii. 234.
Rule for dividing it into parts iii. 236.
Epic poetry ch. 22. iii. 218.
Episode) in an historical poem iii. 250.
Epistles dedicatory) censured ii. [6]. Note.
Epithets) redundant iii. 206.
Epitritus ii. [462].
Esteem) love of i. 237. 286.
Esther) of Racine censured ii. [193]. [198].
Evergreens) cut in the shape of animals iii. 309.
Expression) elevated, low i. 276.
Expression that has no distinct meaning ii. [232].
Two members of a sentence which express a resemblance
betwixt two objects ought to have a resemblance to
each other ii. [270]. &c.
External senses) distinguished into two kinds i. I.
External sense iii. 375.
External signs) of emotions and passions ch. 15. ii. [116].
External signs of passion, what emotions they
raise in a spectator ii. [131]. &c.
Faculty) by which we know passion from its external signs ii. [136].
Fairy Queen) criticised iii. 120.
False quantity) painful to the ear ii. [386].
Fame) love of i. 237.
Fashion) its influence accounted for i. 80.
Fashion is in a continual flux i. 256.
Fear) explained i. 95. &c.
rises often to its utmost pitch in an instant i. 148.
is infectious i. 221.
Feeling) its different significations iii. 379.
Fiction) emotions raised by fiction i. 104. &c.
Figure) beauty of i. 248.
Definition of a regular figure iii. 389.
Figures) some passions favourable to figurative expression ii. [208].
Figures ch. 20. iii. 53.
Figure of speech iii. 70. 113. 136. &c.
Final cause) of our sense of order and connection i. 41.
of the sympathetic emotion of virtue i. 74.
of the instinctive passion of fear i. 96. 97.
of the instinctive passion of anger i. 103.
of ideal presence i. 121.
of the power that fiction has on the mind i. 126.
of emotions and passions i. 222. &c.
of regularity, uniformity, order, and simplicity i. 249. 251.
of proportion i. 250.
of beauty i. 262.
why certain objects are neither pleasant nor painful i. 272. 309.
of the pleasure we have in motion and force i. 318.
of curiosity i. 320.
of wonder i. 335.
of surprise i. 336.
of the principle that prompts us to perfect every work i. 366.
of the pleasure or pain that results from the different
circumstances of a train of perceptions i. 397. &c.
of congruity and propriety ii. [18]. &c.
of dignity and meanness ii. [35]. &c.
of habit ii. [106]. &c.
of the external signs of passion and emotion ii. [127]. [137]. &c.
why articulate sounds singly agreeable are always
agreeable in conjunction ii. [241].
of the pleasure we have in language iii. 208.
of our relish for various proportions in quantity iii. 333.
of our conviction of a common standard in every species of beings iii. 362.
of uniformity of taste in the fine arts iii. 363. 364.
why the sense of a right and a wrong in the fine arts is less
clear and authoritative than the sense of a
right and a wrong in actions iii. 368.
Fine arts) defined i. 6. 7. 16.
a subject of reasoning i. 8.
Their emotions ought to be contrasted in succession i. 374.
considered with respect to dignity ii. [34].
How far they may be regulated by custom ii. [108].
None of them are imitative but painting and sculpture ii. [234].
Aberrations from a true taste
in these arts iii. 366.
Who are qualified to be judges in the fine arts iii. 371.
Fluid) motion of fluids i. 311.
Foot) a list of verse feet ii. [459].
Force) produces a feeling that resembles it i. 218.
Force i. 309. &c.
Moving force i. 312.
The pleasure of force differs from that of motion i. 313.
It contributes to grandeur i. 315.
Foreign) preference given to foreign curiosities i. 331.
Fountains) in what form they ought to be iii. 313.
Friendship) considered with respect to dignity and meanness ii. [33].
Games) public games of the Greeks i. 314.
Gardening) grandeur of manner in gardening i. 294.
Its emotions ought to be contrasted in succession i. 375.
A small garden ought to be confined to a single expression i. 376.
A garden near a great city ought to have an air of solitude i. 376.
A garden in a wild country ought to be gay and splendid i. 377.
Gardening ch. 24. iii. 294.
What emotions can be raised by it iii. 296.
Its emotions compared with those of architecture iii. 297.
Simplicity ought to be the governing taste iii. 300.
Wherein the unity of a garden consists iii. 304.
How far ought regularity to be studied in it iii. 305.
Resemblance carried too far in it iii. 305. Note.
Grandeur in gardening iii. 306.
Every unnatural object ought to be rejected iii. 308.
Distant and faint imitations displease iii. 309.
The effect of giving play to the imagination iii. 318.
Gardening
inspires benevolence iii. 320.
and contributes to rectitude of manners iii. 350.
General idea) there cannot be such a thing iii. 383. Note.
General terms) ought to be avoided in compositions for amusement iii. 198.
General theorems) why they are agreeable i. 255.
Generic habit) defined ii. [95].
Generosity) why of greater dignity than justice ii. [31].
Genus) defined iii. 399.
Gestures) that accompany the different passions ii. [120]. [121]. [125].
_Gierusalleme liberata_) censured iii. 242. 249.
Good nature) why of less dignity than courage or generosity ii. [31].
Gothic tower) its beauty iii. 324.
Government) natural foundation of submission to government i. 236.
Grandeur) demands not strict regularity i. 257. 298.
Grandeur and sublimity Ch. 4. i. 264.
Real and figurative grandeur intimately connected i. 279.
Grandeur of manner i. 288.
Grandeur may be employed indirectly to humble the mind i. 300.
Suits ill with wit and ridicule i. 377.
Figurative grandeur distinguished from figurative elevation iii. 21. 22.
Grandeur in gardening iii. 306.
Regularity and proportion hide the grandeur of a building iii. 342.
Gratification) of passion i. 58. 59. 65. 66. 183. _&c._ 203. 358. iii. 98.
Gratitude) exerted upon the children of the benefactor i. 187.
Punishment of ingratitude ii. [25].
Gratitude
considered with respect to dignity and meanness ii. [33].
Grief) magnifies its cause i. 190.
occasions a false reckoning of time i. 211.
is infectious i. 220.
when immoderate is silent ii. [204].
Gross pleasure i. 137.
Guido) censured iii. 131.
Habit) ch. 14. ii. [81].
distinguished from custom ii. [82].
Harmony) or concord in objects of sight i. 156.
Distinguished from melody ii. [358]. Note.
Hatred) signifies more commonly affection than passion i. 146.
Hearing) in hearing we feel no impression iii. 380.
Henriade) censured iii. 178. 236. 243. 249.
Hexameter) Virgils hexameters extremely melodious;
those of Horace not always so ii. [357].
Structure of an hexameter line ii. [364].
Rules for its structure ii. [367].
Musical pauses in an hexameter line ii. [368].
Wherein its melody consists ii. [380].
Hippolytus) of Euripides censured ii. [197]. iii. 286. 288.
History) histories of conquerors and heroes singularly
agreeable. Why? i. 72. 285.
By what means does history raise our passions i. 115. 118.
It rejects poetical images iii. 170.
Homer) defective in order and connection i. 35.
His language finely suited to his subject iii. 194.
His repetitions defended iii. 204.
His poems in a great measure dramatic iii. 220.
censured iii. 246.
Horace) defective in connection i. 35.
His hexameters not always melodious ii. [358].
Their defects pointed out ii. [380].
Horror) objects of horror ought to be banished from
poetry and painting iii. 213.
Humour) defined ii. [44].
Humour in writing distinguished from humour in character ii. [44].
Hyperbole iii. 89.
Hyppobacchius ii. [460].
Iambic verse) its modulation faint ii. [358].
Iambus ii. [459].
Jane Shore) censured ii. [168].
Idea) succession of ideas i. 381.
Idea of memory defined iii. 382.
cannot be innate iii. 382. Note.
No general ideas iii. 383. Note.
Idea of an object of sight more distinct than of any other object iii. 384.
Ideas distinguished into three kinds iii. 386.
Idea of imagination not so pleasant as an idea of memory iii. 393.
Ideal presence i. 107. &c.
Identity) of passions and emotions i. 141.
_Jet d’eau_ i. 313. 314. iii. 308. 310.
Jingle of words ii. [231].
Iliad) criticised iii. 263.
Imagination) not always at rest even in sleep i. 337.
Effect in gardening of giving play to it iii. 318. Its
power of fabricating images iii. 385.
Imitation) we naturally imitate virtuous actions i. 220.
not those that are vicious i. 221.
None of the fine arts imitate nature except painting and sculpture ii. [234].
The agreeableness of imitation overbalances
the disagreeableness of the subject iii. 208.
Distant and faint imitations displease iii. 309.
Impression) made on the organ of sense iii. 380.
Impropriety) in action raises contempt i. 340. Its punishment ii. [15].
Impulse) a strong impulse succeeding a weak, makes a double
impression: a weak impulse succeeding a strong,
makes scarce any impression ii. [251].
Infinite series) becomes disagreeable when prolonged i. 365. Note.
Innate idea) there cannot be such a thing iii. 382. Note.
Instrument) the means or instrument conceived to be the agent iii. 98. &c.
Intellectual pleasure i. 2, 3.
Internal sense iii. 375.
Intrinsic beauty i. 244.
Intuitive conviction) of the veracity of our senses i. 105.
of the dignity of human nature ii. [29]. iii. 361.
of a common nature or standard in every species of beings
iii. 356. and of the perfection of that standard iii. 357.
also that it is invariable iii. 357.
Intuitive conviction that the external signs of passion
are natural, and the same in all men ii. [135].
Inversion) an inverted style described ii. [290]. &c.
Inversion gives force and liveliness to the expression
by suspending the thought till the close ii. [324].
Inversion how regulated ii. [330]. [331]. [332].
Beauties of inversion ii. [331]. [332].
Full scope for it in blank verse ii. [438].
Ionicus ii. [461].
Joy) its cause i. 65.
infectious i. 220.
considered with respect to dignity and meanness ii. [33].
Iphigenia) of Racine censured ii. [112].
Iphigenia in Tauris) censured iii. 287. 288. 289.
Irony) defined ii. [50].
Italian tongue) too smooth ii. [246]. Note.
Judgement) and memory in perfection, seldom united i. 28.
Judgement seldom united with wit i. 28.
Julius Cæsar) of Shakespear censured ii. [200].
Justice) of less dignity than generosity or courage ii. [31].
Kent) his skill in gardening iii. 303.
Key-note ii. [348]. [361].
Kitchen-garden iii. 315.
Labyrinth) in a garden iii. 310.
Landscape) why it is so agreeable i. 156.
The pleasure it gives explained i. 298.
A landscape in painting ought to be confined to a single expression i. 376.
Language) power of language to raise emotions, whence derived i. 112. 121.
Language of passion ch. 17. ii. [204].
broken and interrupted ii. [206].
of impetuous passion ii. [210].
of languid passion ii. [210].
of calm emotions ii. [211].
of turbulent passion ii. [211].
Language elevated above the tone of the sentiment ii. [224].
too artificial or too figurative ii. [225].
too light or airy ii. [227].
Language how far imitative of nature ii. [234].
its beauty with respect to signification ii. [235]. [254]. &c.
its beauty with respect to sound ii. [238].
it ought to correspond
to the subject ii. [258].
its structure explained ii. [285].
Beauty of language from a resemblance betwixt sound
and signification ii. 333 &c.
The force of language proceeds from raising complete images iii. 174.
its power of producing pleasant emotions iii. 208.
Without language man would scarce be a rational being iii. 406.

_L’avare_) of Moliere censured ii 198.
Laughter i. 338.
Laugh of derision or scorn ii. [16].
Law) defined ii. [22].
Laws of human nature) necessary succession of perceptions i. 21. 380.
We never act but through the impulse of desire i. 55. 222.
An object loses its relish by familiarity i. 144.
Passions sudden in their growth are equally sudden
in their decay i. 148. ii. [91].
Every passion ceases upon attaining its ultimate end i. 148.
Laws of motion) agreeable i. 255.
_Les Freres ennemies_) of Racine censured ii. [177].
_Lex talionis_) upon what principle founded i. 370.
Line) definition of a regular line iii. 389.
Littleness) is neither pleasant nor painful i. 272.
Logic) cause of its obscurity and intricacy ii. [138].
_Logio_) improper in this climate iii. 327.
Love) to children accounted for i. 82.
The love a man bears to his country explained i. 88.
Love produced by pity i. 93.
It signifies more commonly affection than passion i. 146.
To a lover absence appears long i. 202.
Love assumes the qualities of its object i. 219.
considered with respect to dignity and meanness ii. [33].
seldom constant when founded on exquisite beauty ii. [101].
ill represented in French plays ii. [194].
when immoderate is silent ii. [205].
Love for love) censured iii. 266.
Lowness) is neither pleasant nor painful i. 272.
Lucan) too minute in his descriptions i. 292.
censured iii. 220.
Ludicrous i. 338.
may be introduced into an epic poem i. 378.
Lutrin) censured for incongruity ii. [9].
characterized ii. [41].
Luxury) corrupts our taste iii. 370.
Machinery) ought to be excluded from an epic poem i. 125. iii. 239.
does well in a burlesk poem i. 125.
Man) fitted for society i. 237.
Conformity of the nature of man to his external
circumstances i. 310. ii. [143].
The different branches of his internal constitution
finely suited to each other iii. 332. 364.
Manners) gross and refined i. 1, 8.
The bad tendency of rough and blunt manners ii. [141]. Note.
Marvellous) in epic poetry iii. 246.
Meanness ii. [27]. &c.
Means) the means or instrument conceived to be the agent iii. 98. &c.
Measure) natural measure of time i. 200. &c.
of space, i. 211 &c.
Medea) of Euripides censured iii. 287.
Melody) or modulation defined ii. [355].
distinguished from harmony ii. [358]. Note.
Members of a period) have a fine effect placed in
an increasing series ii. [252].
Memory) and judgement in perfection seldom united i. 28.
Memory and wit often united i. 28.
Memory iii. 381.
Merry wives of Windsor) its double plot well contrived iii. 253.
Metaphor iii. 108. &c.
Metre ii. [381].
Mile) the computed miles are longer in a barren
than in a populous country i. 209.
Milton) his style much inverted ii. [439].
The defect of his verification is the want of
coincidence betwixt the pauses of the sense
and the sound ii. [445].
the beauty of Milton’s comparisons iii. 16.
Moderation) in our desires contributes the most to happiness i. 263.
Modern manners) make a poor figure in an epic poem iii. 235.
Modification) defined iii. 399.
Modulation) defined ii. [355].
Molossus ii. [459].
Monosyllables) English, arbitrary as to quantity ii. [383].
Moral duties) _See_ Duties.
Morality) its foundation iii. 358.
Aberrations from its true standard iii. 366.
Moral tragedy iii. 221.
Motion) productive of feelings that resemble it i. 217.
Its laws agreeable i. 255.
Motion and force, ch. 5. i. 309. &c.
What motions are the most agreeable i. 310.
Regular motion i. 311.
accelerated motion i. 311.
upward motion i. 311.
undulating motion i. 311.
Motion of fluids i. 311.
A body moved
neither agreeable nor disagreeable i. 312.
The pleasure of motion differs from that of force i. 313.
Grace of motion i. 317.
Motions of the human body i. 317.
Motive) defined i. 58. 59.
Mount) artificial iii. 313.
Mourning Bride) censured ii. [180]. [197]. iii. 279. 292.
Music) vocal distinguished from instrumental i. 166.
What subjects proper for vocal music i. 166. &c.
Music betwixt the acts of a play, the advantages
that may be drawn from it iii. 283.
Though it cannot raise a passion, it disposes
the heart to various passions iii. 284.
Musical instruments) their different effects upon the mind i. 283.
Musical measure) defined ii. [355].
Narration) it animates a narrative to represent things past as present i. 118.
Narration and description, ch. 21. iii. 169.
It animates a narrative, to make it dramatic iii. 197. 220.
Nation) defined iii. 404.
Note, a high note and a low note in music i. 278.
Novelty and the unexpected appearance of objects, ch. 6. i. 319.
Novelty a pleasant emotion i. 322. &c.
distinguished from variety i. 329.
its different degrees i. 329. &c.
Number) defined iii. 331.
_Numerus_) defined ii. [355].
Object) of a passion defined i. 56.
An agreeable object produceth a pleasant emotion,
and a disagreeable object a painful emotion i. 223.
attractive object i. 226.
repulsive object i. 226.
Objects of sight the most complex i. 243.
Objects that are neither pleasant nor painful i. 272. 309. 312.
Objects of external sense in what place they are perceived iii. 370.
Objects of internal sense iii. 377.
All objects of sight are complex iii. 400.
Objects simple and complex iii. 401.
Object defined iii. 406.
Old Bachelor) censured iii. 266.
Opera) censured ii. [9].
Opinion) influenced by passion i. 183. &c. iii. 55.
influenced by propensity i. 99.
influenced by affection i. 199.
why differing from me in opinion is disagreeable iii. 359.
Opinion defined iii. 396.
Oration) _pro Archia poeta_ censured ii. [329].
Orchard iii. 315.
Order) i. 28. &c. iii. 392.
pleasure we have in order i. 32.
necessary in all compositions i. 34.
Sense of order has an influence upon our passions i. 81. 89.
when a list of many particulars is brought into
a period, in what order should they be placed? ii. [321].
Order in stating facts iii. 264.
Organ of sense i. 1.
Organic pleasure i. 1. 2. 3. 4.
Orlando Furioso) censured iii. 264.
Ornament) redundant ornaments ought to be avoided iii. 168.
Ornaments in architecture iii. 342.
Allegorical or emblematic ornaments iii. 347.
Othello) censured iii. 215.
Pæon ii. [461].
Pain) cessation of pain extremely pleasant i. 68.
Pain lessens by custom ii. [102]. iii. 355.
Some pains felt internally some externally iii. 387.
Painful emotions and passions i. 127. &c.
Painting) in grotesque painting the figures ought
to be small, in historical painting as great
as the life i. 279.
Grandeur of manner in painting i. 293.
Painting is an imitation of nature ii. [234].
In history painting the principal figure ought
to be in the best light iii. 201.
A good picture agreeable, though the subject be disagreeable iii. 208.
Objects that strike terror have a fine effect in painting iii. 211.
Objects of horror ought not to be represented iii. 213.
What emotions can be raised by painting iii. 296.
Panic i. 221.
Parallelogram) its beauty i. 252.
Parody) defined ii. [52]. [160]. Note.
Particles ii. [404]. not capable of an accent ii. [405]. [416].
Passion) no pleasure of external sense denominated
a passion except of seeing and hearing i. 42.
Passion distinguished from emotion i. 52. 53. 54.
Passions distinguished into instinctive and deliberative i. 58. 95. &c.
What are selfish, what social i. 59.
What dissocial i. 62.
Passion founded on relations i. 76. &c.
A passion paves the way to others in the same tone i. 92.
Passions considered as pleasant or painful, agreeable
or disagreeable i. 127. &c.
as refined or gross i. 137.
Their interrupted existence i. 139. &c.
Their growth and decay i. 139.
&c. The identity of a passion i. 141.
The bulk of our passions are the affections of
love or hatred inflamed into a passion i. 146.
Passions swell by opposition i. 146.
A passion sudden in growth is sudden in decay i. 148.
ceases upon attaining its ultimate end i. 148.
Co-existent passions i. 151. &c.
Passions similar and dissimilar i. 171.
Fluctuation of passion i. 178. &c.
Its influence upon our opinions and belief i. 183. &c. 203. 358.
Its influence upon our perceptions i. 215. 216.
Prone to its gratification i. 238. 239.
has an influence even upon our eye-sight i. 362. 363.
Passions ranked according to their dignity ii. [32].
No disagreeable passion is attended with dignity ii. [33].
Social passions of greater dignity than selfish ii. [37].
External signs of passion ch. 15. ii. [116].
Passion generally fluctuates, swelling and
subsiding by turns ii. [163]. Language of
passion ch. 17. ii. [204]. &c.
A passion when immoderate is silent ii. [204].
Language of passion broken and interrupted ii. [206].
What passions admit figurative expression ii. [208].
Language proper for impetuous passion ii. [210].
for melancholy ii. [210].
for calm emotions ii. [211].
for turbulent passion ii. [211].
Passions expanded upon related objects i. 76. &c.
ii. [312]. &c. 336. 372. 415. 416. iii. 60. &c. 139. 140.
With regard to passion man is passive iii. 377.
We are conscious of passions as in the heart iii. 377.
Passionate) personification iii. 64.
Passive subject) defined iii. 406.
Pathetic tragedy iii. 221.
Pause) pauses necessary for three different purposes ii. [360].
Musical pauses in an hexameter line ii. [368].
Musical pauses ought to coincide with those in the sense ii. [371]. [375].
What musical pauses are essential in English heroic verse ii. [388].
Rules concerning them ii. [390]. &c.
Pause and accent have a mutual influence ii. [428].
Pedestal) ought to be sparingly ornamented iii. 347.
Perceptions) succession of i. 380.
Perception defined iii. 378.
Original and secondary iii. 382.
Simple and complex iii. 383.
Period) has a fine effect when its members proceed
in the form of an increasing series ii. [252].
In the periods of a discourse variety ought to be studied ii. [253].
Different thoughts ought not to be crowded into one period ii. [263].
The scene ought not to be changed in a period ii. [278].
A period so arranged as to express the sense clearly,
seems more musical than where the sense is left
doubtful ii. [307].
In what part of the period doth a word make the greatest figure ii. [318].
A period ought to be closed with that word which
makes the greatest figure ii. [320].
When there is occasion to mention many particulars,
in what order ought they to be placed ii. [321].
A short period is lively and familiar, a long period
grave and solemn ii. [328].
A discourse ought not to commence with a long period ii. [329].
Personification iii. 54. &c.
Passionate and descriptive iii. 64.
Perspicuity) a capital requisite in writing ii. [256].
Pharsalia) censured iii. 220.
Phedra) of Racine censured ii. [113]. [216].
Pilaster) less beautiful than a column iii. 345.
Pindar) defective in order and connection i. 35.
Pity) defined i. 55.
apt to produce love i. 93.
always painful, yet always agreeable i. 134.
resembles its cause i. 211.
What are the proper subjects for raising pity iii. 226.
Planetary system) its beauty i. 316.
Play) is a chain of connected facts, each scene making a link iii. 266.
Play of words) ii 71. 228 &c.
Comparisons that resolve into a play of words iii. 42.
Pleasant emotions and passions i. 127. &c.
Pleasant pain explained i. 155.
Pleasure) pleasures of seeing and hearing
distinguished from those of the other senses i. 1. 2. &c.
Pleasure of order i. 32.
of connection i. 32.
Pleasures of taste, touch, and smell, not termed
_emotions_ or _passions_ i. 42.
Pleasures refined and gross i. 137.
Corporeal pleasure low and sometimes mean ii 32.
Pleasures of the eye and ear never low or mean ii. [32].
Pleasures of the understanding are high in point of dignity ii. [34].
Some pleasures felt internally, some externally iii. 387.
Poet) the chief talent of a poet who deals in the pathetic ii. [119].
Poetry) objects that strike terror have a fine effect in it iii. 211.
Objects of horror ought to be banished from it iii. 213.
Poetry has power over all the human affections iii. 296.
The most successful in describing objects of sight iii. 385.
Polite behaviour i. 138.
Polygon) regular its beauty i. 252.
Polysyllables) how far agreeable to the ear ii. [242].
seldom have place in the construction of English verse ii. [385]. [421].
Pompey) of Corneille censured ii. [176]. [191]. [194].
Pope excels in the variety of his melody ii. [411].
His style compared with that of Swift iii. 198.
Posture) constrained posture disagreeable to the spectator i. 219.
Power of abstraction iii. 401.
Its use iii. 402. 403.
Prepositions) explained ii. [289].
Pride) incites us to ridicule the blunders and absurdities of others ii 17.
Considered with respect to dignity and meanness ii. [34].
Its external expressions or signs disagreeable ii. [132].
Primary and secondary qualities of matter i. 259.
Principle) of order i. 28. 29.
of morality i. 49. 74. ii. [21].
of self-preservation i. 96.
of selfishness i. 227. 229.
of benevolence i. 228. 229.
Principle that makes us fond of esteem i. 237. 286.
of curiosity i. 320. 345. &c.
of habit ii. [105].
Principle that makes us wish others to be of our opinion iii. 57. 359.
Principle defined iii. 394.
_See_ Propensity.
Principles of the fine arts i. 7.
Proceleusmaticus ii. [461].
Prodigies) find ready credit with the vulgar i. 198.
Prologue of the ancient tragedy iii. 271.
Pronoun) defined ii. [310].
Pronunciation) rules for it ii. [347]. &c.
distinguished from singing ii. [348].
Singing and pronouncing compared ii. [351].
Propensity) opinion and belief influenced by it i. 199.
Propensity to fit objects for the gratification of our
passions i. 184. iii. 98.
Propensity to justify our passions and actions i. 185.
Propensity to punish guilt and reward virtue i. 231.
Propensity to carry along the good or bad properties
of one subject to another i. 76. ii. [235]. [307].
312. 372. 415. 416. iii. 101.
Propensity to complete every work that is begun
and to carry things to perfection i. 364. 365.
iii. 262. 345.
Propensity to communicate to others every thing that affects us ii. [204].
Propensity to place together things mutually connected ii. [308].
Propensity defined iii. 394.
_See_ Principle.
Properties) transferred from one subject to another iii. 100. &c.
Property) the affection man bears to his property i. 84.
Prophecy) those who believe in prophecies wish the accomplishment i. 239.
Propriety ii. [3]. &c.
distinguished from congruity ii. [8].
distinguished from proportion ii. [19].
Propriety in buildings iii. 338.
Proportion) distinguished from propriety ii. [19].
As to quantity coincides with congruity ii. [19].
examined as applied to architecture iii. 318.
Proportion defined iii. 391.
Prose) distinguished from verse ii. [353].
Prospect) pleasure of a fine prospect i. 298.
An unbounded prospect disagreeable i. 366. Note.
Provok’d husband) censured iii. 253.
Pun) defined ii. [77].
Punishment) in the place where the crime was committed i. 371.
Punishment of impropriety ii. [15].
Public games) of the Greeks i. 314.
Pyrrhichius ii. [459].
Qualities) primary and secondary i. 259.
A quality cannot be conceived independent of
the subject to which it belongs ii. [293].
Different qualities perceived by different senses iii. 376.
Quantity) with respect to melody ii. [363]. [383].
Quantity with respect to English verse ii. [383].
Quintilian) censured iii. 92.
Quintus Curtius) censured ii. [167].
Racine) criticised ii. [216]. &c.
Rape of the Lock) characteriz’d ii. [43].
admirable versification ii. [362].
Reading) chief talent of a fine reader ii. [120].
Plaintive passions require a slow pronunciation ii. [161]. Note.
Rules for reading ii. [347]. &c.
compared with singing ii. [351].
Reason) reasons to justify a favourite opinion are
always at hand and much relished i. 186.
Refined pleasure i. 137.
Regularity) not essential in grand objects i. 257.
required in a small work, not so much in one that is extensive i. 299.
how far to be studied in architecture iii. 301. 322. 328.
how far to be studied in a garden iii. 305.
Regular line defined iii. 389.
Regular figure defined iii. 389.
Regularity proper and figurative iii. 390.
Relations i. 22. 23.
have an influence in generating emotions and passions i. 76. &c.
are the foundation of congruity and propriety ii. [5].
in what manner are relations expressed in words ii. [286].
Relative beauty i. 244.
Remorse) its gratification i. 232.
is not mean. ii. [34].
Repartee ii. [80].
Representation) its perfection lies in hiding
itself and producing an impression of reality iii. 279.
Repulsive) object i. 226.
Repulsive emotions ii. [133].
Resemblance) and contrast, ch. 8. i. 345.
The members of a sentence signifying a resemblance
betwixt objects ought to resemble each other
ii. [270]. &c.
Resembling causes may produce effects that have
no resemblance, and causes that have no resemblance
may produce resembling effects ii. [337]. &c.
Resemblance carried too far in some gardens iii. 305. Note.
Resentment) explained i. 98. &c.
disagreeable in excess i. 134.
extended against relations of the offender i. 190.
its gratification i. 231.
when immoderate is silent ii. [205].
Rest) neither agreeable nor disagreeable i. 309.
Revenge) animates but doth not elevate the mind i. 283.
has no dignity in it ii. [33].
Reverie) cause of the pleasure we have in it i. 112.
Rhyme) for what subjects it is proper ii. [447]. &c.
Melody of rhyme ii. [449].
Rhythmus) defined ii. [355].
Riches) love of, corrupts the taste iii. 370.
Riddle iii. 310.
Ridicule) a gross pleasure i. 138.
is losing ground in England i. 138.
Emotion of ridicule i. 341.
not concordant with grandeur i. 377,
Ridicule ii. [16]. [40]. &c.
whether it be a test of truth ii. [55].
Ridiculous) distinguished from risible i. 341.
Risible objects, ch. 7. i. 337.
Risible distinguished from ridiculous i. 341.
Rubens) censured iii. 130.
Ruin) ought not to be seen from a flower-parterre iii. 303.
in what form it ought to be iii. 313.
Sallust) censured for want of connection i. 37.
Sapphic verse) has a very agreeable modulation ii. [358].
Scorn ii. [16].
Sculpture) imitates nature ii. [234].
what emotions can be raised by it iii. 296.
_Secchia rapita_) characterized ii. [41].
Secondary qualities of matter i. 259.
Seeing) in seeing we feel no impression iii. 380.
Objects of sight are all of them complex iii. 400.
Self-deceit i. 185. ii. [190].
Selfish passions i. 59.
are pleasant i. 131.
less refined than the social i. 137.
inferior in dignity to the social ii. [37].
Selfishness) promoted by luxury iii. 370.
and also by love of riches iii. 370.
Self-love) its prevalence accounted for i. 63.
in excess disagreeable i. 134.
not inconsistent with benevolence i. 228.
Semipause) in an hexameter line ii. [369].
what semipauses are found in an English heroic line ii. [390].
Sensation) defined iii. 378.
Sense) of order i. 28. &c.
contributes to generate emotions i. 81.
and passions i. 89.
Sense of right and wrong i. 49.
of the veracity of our senses i. 105.
Sense of congruity or propriety ii. [6].
of the dignity of human nature ii. [29]. iii. 361.
Sense by
which we discover a passion from its external signs ii. [136].
Sense of a common nature in every species of beings iii. 356.
Sense internal and external iii. 375.
In touching, tasting, and smelling, we feel the
impression at the organ of sense, not in seeing
and hearing iii. 380.
Sentence) it detracts from neatness to vary the scene
in the same sentence ii. [278].
A sentence so arranged as to express the sense
clearly, seems always more musical than where
the sense is left in any degree doubtful ii. [307].
Sentiment) elevated, low i. 276.
Sentiments ch. 16. ii. [149].
Sentiments expressing the swelling of passion ii. [164].
expressing the different stages of a passion ii. [165].
dictated by co-existent passions ii. [169].
Sentiments of strong passions are hid or dissembled ii. [171].
Sentiments above the tone of the passion ii. [175].
below the tone of the passion ii. [176].
Sentiments too gay for a serious passion ii. [178].
too artificial for a serious passion ii. [179].
fanciful or sinical ii. [182].
discordant with character ii. [186].
misplaced ii. [189].
Immoral sentiments expressed without disguise ii. [189].
unnatural ii. [196].
Sentiment defined iii. 396.
Series) from small to great agreeable i. 272.
Ascending series i. 274.
Descending series i. 275.
The effect of a number of objects placed in an
increasing or decreasing series ii. [249].
Serpentine river) its beauty i. 311. iii. 316.
Sertorius) of Corneille censured ii. [163].
Shaft) of a column iii. 346.
Shakespear) criticised ii. 212
deals little in inversion ii. [439].
excells in drawing characters iii. 182.
his style in what respect excellent iii. 198.
his dialogue excellent iii. 257.
deals not in barren scenes iii. 267.
Shame) is not mean ii. [34].
Similar emotions i. 153.
their effects when co-existent i. 155. iii. 336.
Similar passions i. 171.
Effects of co-existent similar passions i. 171.
Simple perception iii. 383.
Simplicity) beauty of i. 247. 254.
abandoned in the fine arts i. 255.
a great beauty in tragedy iii. 252. Note.
ought to be the governing taste in gardening and architecture iii. 300.
Singing) distinguished from pronouncing or reading ii. [348].
Singing and pronouncing compared ii. [351].
Situation) different situations suited to different buildings iii. 339.
Smelling) in smelling we feel an impression upon the organ of sense iii. 380.
Smoke) the pleasure of ascending smoke accounted for i. 33. 313.
Social passions i. 59.
more refined than the selfish i. 137.
of greater dignity ii. [37].
Society) advantages of i. 237. 238. 240.
Soliloquy) has a foundation in nature ii. [123].
Soliloquies ii. [218]. &c.
Sorrow) cause of it i. 65.
Sounds) concordant i. 151.
discordant i. 152.
produce emotions that resemble them i. 218.
articulate how far agreeable to the ear ii. [240].
A smooth sound sooths the mind, and a rough sound animates ii. [245].
Space) natural computation of space i. 211. &c.
Species) defined iii. 399.
Specific habit) defined ii. [95].
Speech) power of speech to raise emotions, whence derived i. 112. 121.
Spondee ii. [364]. &c. ii. [459].
Square) its beauty i. 251.
Stairs) their proportion iii. 323.
Standard) of taste ch. 25. iii. 351.
Standard of morals iii. 367.
Star) in gardening iii. 307.
Statue) the reason why a statue is not coloured i. 372.
An equestrian statue is placed in a centre of streets
that it may be seen from many places at once iii. 201.
Statue of an animal pouring out water iii. 308.
of a water-god pouring water out of his urn iii. 350.
Strada) censured iii. 170.
Style) natural and inverted ii. [290]. &c.
The beauties of a natural style ii. [332].
of an inverted style ii. [332].
Concise style a great ornament iii. 204.
Subject) may be conceived independent of any particular quality ii. [293].
Subject with respect to its qualities iii. 376.
Subject defined iii. 406.
Sublimity i. 264. &c.
Sublime in poetry i. 277.
Sublimity may be employed indirectly to sink the mind i. 300.
False sublime i. 303. 306.
Submission) natural foundation of submission to government i. 236.
Substance) defined iii. 406.
Substratum) defined iii. 376.
Succession) of perceptions and ideas i. 380. &c.
Superlatives) inferior writers deal in superlatives iii. 195.
Surprise) instantaneous i. 142. 321.
pleasant or painful according to circumstances i. 326. &c.
Surprise is the cause of contrast i. 359.
Surprise a silent passion ii. [205].
studied in Chinese gardens iii. 319.
Suspense) an uneasy state i. 205.
Sweet distress) explained i. 155.
Swift) his language always suited to his subject iii. 194.
has a peculiar energy of style iii. 198.
compared with Pope iii. 198.
Syllable ii. [239].
Syllables long and short ii. [363].
Sympathy) sympathetic emotion of virtue i. 70.
Sympathy i. 229.
attractive i. 230.
never low nor mean ii. [32].
the cement of society ii. [143].
Synthetic) and analytic methods of reasoning compared i. 31.
Tacitus) excells in drawing characters iii. 182.
his style comprehensive iii. 204.
Tasso) censured iii. 242.
Taste) in tasting we feel an impression upon the organ of sense iii. 380.
Taste in the fine arts compared with the moral sense i. 7.
its advantages i. 10. &c.
Delicacy of taste i. 136.
A low taste i. 276.
The foundation of a right and a wrong in taste iii. 358.
Taste in the fine arts as well as in morals
corrupted by voluptuousness iii. 370.
corrupted by love of riches iii. 370.
Taste never naturally bad or wrong iii. 372.
Aberrations from a true taste in the fine arts iii. 366.
Tautology) a blemish in writing iii. 205.
Temples) of Ancient and Modern Virtue in the gardens of Stow iii. 348.
Terence) censured iii. 288. 290.
Terror) arises sometimes to its utmost height instantaneously i. 143.
a silent passion ii. [205].
Objects that strike terror have a fine effect
in poetry and painting iii. 211.
The terror raised by tragedy explained iii. 228.
Theorem) general theorems agreeable i. 255.
Time) past time expressed as present i. 118.
Natural computation of time i. 200. &c.
Tone) of mind iii. 378.
Touch) in touching we feel an impression upon the organ of sense iii. 380.
Trachiniens) of Sophocles censured iii. 286.
Tragedy) modern tragedy censured ii. [155].
French tragedy censured ii. [159]. Note. ii. [194].

The Greek tragedy accompanied with musical notes
to ascertain the pronunciation ii. [350].
Tragedy ch. 22. iii. 218.
in what respect it differs from an epic poem iii. 218.
distinguished into pathetic and moral iii. 221.
its good effects iii. 223.
compared with the epic as to the subjects proper for each iii. 225. 226.
how far it may borrow from history iii. 234.
rule for dividing it into acts iii. 236.
double plot in it iii. 251.
admits not supernatural events iii. 254.
its origin iii. 270.
Ancient tragedy a continued representation without interruption iii. 271.
Constitution of the modern drama iii. 273.
Trees) the best manner of placing them iii. 307.
Triangle) equilateral, its beauty i. 253.
Tribrachys ii. [459].
Trochæus ii. [459].
Tropes ch. 20. iii. 53.
Ugliness) proper and figurative iii. 388.
Unbounded prospect) disagreeable i. 366. Note.
Uniformity) apt to disgust by excess i. 253.
Uniformity and variety ch. 9. i. 380.
The melody ought to be uniform where the things
described are uniform ii. [411].
Uniformity defined iii. 390.
Unity) the three unities ch. 23. iii. 259.
of action iii. 260.
of time and of place ii. [267].
Unities of time and place not required in an epic poem iii. 268.
Strictly observed in the Greek tragedy iii. 272.
Unity of place in the ancient drama iii. 285.
Unities of place and time ought to be strictly observed
in each act of a modern play iii. 291.
Wherein the unity of a garden consists. iii. 304.
_Unumquodque eodem modo dissolvitur quo colligatum est_ i. 368.
Vanity) a disagreeable passion i. 134.
always appears mean ii. [34].
Variety) distinguished from novelty i. 329.
Variety ch. 9. i. 380.
Verbal antithesis) defined ii. [73]. [268].
Versailles) gardens of iii. 310.
Verse) distinguished from prose ii. 353
Sapphic verse extremely melodious ii. [358].
Iambic less so ii. [358].
Structure of an hexameter line ii. [364].
Structure of English heroic verse ii. [382]. [384].
English monosyllables arbitrary as to quantity ii. [383].
English heroic lines distinguished into four sorts ii. [421].
Latin hexameter compared with English rhyme ii. [441].
compared with blank verse ii. [442].
French heroic verse compared with hexameter and rhyme ii. [443].
The English language incapable of the melody of hexameter verse ii. [446].
For what subjects is rhyme proper ii. [447]. &c.
Melody of rhyme ii. [449].
Melody of verse is so inchanting as to draw a veil
over gross imperfections ii. [457].
Verses composed in the shape of an axe or an egg iii. 310.
Violent action) ought to be excluded from the stage iii. 254.
Virgil) censured for want of connection i. 36. &c.
his verse extremely melodious ii. [357].
his versification criticised ii. [376].
censured iii. 179. 194. 246.
_Virgil travestie_) characterized ii. [41].
Voltaire) censured iii. 178. 236. 243.
Vowels ii. [238].
Walk) in a garden, whether it ought to be straight or waving iii. 311.
artificial walk elevated above the plain iii. 313.
Wall) that is not perpendicular occasions an uneasy feeling i. 218.
Water-fall i. 314.
Water-god) statue of, pouring out water iii. 350.
Way of the World) censured iii. 266.
the unities of place and time strictly observed in it iii. 293.
Will) how far our train of perceptions can be regulated by it i. 23. 381. 388.
determined by desire i. 222
Windows) their proportions iii. 323.
Wish) distinguished from desire i. 55.
Wit) defined i. 28. seldom united with judgement
i. 28. but generally with memory i. 28.
not concordant with grandeur i. 377.
Wit ch. 13. ii. [58].
Wonder) instantaneous i. 143.
Wonders and prodigies find ready credit with the vulgar i. 198.
Wonder i. 320.
studied in Chinese gardens iii. 319.
Words) play of ii. [228]. &c.
jingle of ii. [231].
what are their best arrangement in a period ii. [251].
A conjunction or disjunction in the members of
the thought ought to be imitated in the expression ii. [260]. [265].
Words expressing things connected ought to be
placed as near together as possible ii. [307]. &c.
In what part of a sentence doth a word make the greatest figure ii. [318].
Words acquire a beauty from their meaning iii. 139.
The words ought to accord with the sentiment iii. 188.
A word is often redoubled to add force to the expression iii. 201.
Writing) a subject intended for amusement may be highly ornamented ii. [9].
A grand subject appears best in a plain dress ii. [10].

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Nec vero illa parva vis naturæ est rationisque, quod unum hoc animal sentit quid sit ordo, quid sit quod deceat in factis dictisque, qui modus. Itaque eorum ipsorum, quæ aspectu sentiuntur, nullum aliud animal, pulchritudinem, venustatem, convenientiam partium, sentit. Quam similitudinem natura ratioque ab oculis ad animum transferens, multo etiam magis pulchritudinem, constantiam, ordinem, in consiliis factisque conservandum putat, cavetque ne quid indecorè effeminatève faciat; tum in omnibus et opinionibus et factis ne quid libidinosè aut faciat aut cogitet. Quibus ex rebus conflatur et efficitur id, quod quærimus, honestum. Cicero de officiis, l. 1.

[2] From many things that pass current in the world without being generally condemned, one at first view would imagine, that the sense of congruity or propriety hath scarce any foundation in nature; and that it is rather an artificial refinement of those who affect to distinguish themselves by a certain delicacy of taste and behaviour. The fulsome panegyrics bestowed upon the great and opulent, in epistles dedicatory and other such compositions, lead naturally to that thought. Did there prevail in the world, it will be said, or did nature suggest, a taste of what is suitable, decent, or proper, would any good writer deal in such compositions, or any man of sense receive them without disgust? Can it be supposed, that Lewis XIV. of France was endued by nature with any sense of propriety, when, in a dramatic performance purposely composed for his entertainment, he suffered himself, publicly and in his presence, to be styled the greatest king ever the earth produced? These it is true are strong facts; but luckily they do not prove the sense of propriety to be artificial. They only prove, that the sense of propriety is at times overpowered by pride and vanity; which is no singular case, for this sometimes is the fate even of the sense of justice.

[3] Contrary to this rule, the introduction to the third volume of the Characteristics, is a continued chain of metaphors. These in such profusion are too florid for the subject; and have beside the bad effect of removing our attention from the principal subject, to fix it upon splendid trifles.

[4] See act 1. sc. 2.

[5] See chap. 7.

[6] See chap. 3.

[7] See the Introduction.

[8] Part I. essay 2. chap. 4.

[9] Poet. cap. 5.

[10] L. 2. De oratore.

[11] Ideoque anceps ejus rei ratio est, quod a derisu non procul abest risus. Lib. 6. cap. 3. § 1.

[12] See chap. 7.

[13] See chap. 10.

[14] Scarron.

[15] Tassoni.

[16] Nº 102.

[17] Tale of a Tub, sect. 7.

[18] A true and faithful narrative of what passed in London during the general consternation of all ranks and degrees of mankind.

[19] Æn. l. 1. At Venus obscuro, &c.

[20] See chap. 10. compared with chap. 7.

[21] B. 2. ch. 11. § 2.

[22] See chap. 1.

[23] De oratore, l. 2. cap. 63.

[24]

If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work:
But when they seldom come, they wish’d-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
First part, Henry IV. act 1. sc. 3.

[25] Violent love without affection is finely exemplified in the following story. When Constantinople was taken by the Turks, Irene, a young Greek of an illustrious family, fell into the hands of Mahomet II. who was at that time in the prime of youth and glory. Irene’s charms conquered the savage heart of Mahomet. He abandoned himself to his new mistress; and shut himself up with her, denying access even to his ministers. His passion seemed to increase with time. In the most important expeditions, frequently would he abandon the army, and fly to his Irene. War was at a stand, for victory was no longer the monarch’s favourite passion. The soldiers, accustomed to booty, began to murmur, and the infection spread even among the commanders. The Basha Mustapha, consulting the fidelity he owed his master, was the first who durst acquaint him of the discourses held publicly to the prejudice of his glory.

The Sultan, after a gloomy silence, formed his resolution. He ordered Mustapha to assemble the troops next morning; and then retired with precipitation to Irene’s apartment. Never before did that princess appear so charming: never before did the prince bestow so many tender caresses. To give a new lustre to her beauty, he exhorted her women next morning to bestow all their art and care on her dress. He took her by the hand, led her into the middle of the army, and pulling off her vail, demanded at the Bashas with a fierce look, whether they had ever beheld so accomplished a beauty? After an awful pause, Mahomet with one hand laying hold of the young Greek by her beautiful locks, and with the other pulling out his simitar, severed the head from the body at one stroke. Then turning to his grandees, with eyes wild and furious, “This sword,” says he, “when it is my will, knows to cut the bands of love.”

[26] See chap. 2. part 3.

[27] Lady Easy, upon her husband’s reformation, expresses to her friend the following sentiment. “Be satisfy’d; Sir Charles has made me happy, even to a pain of joy.”

[28] See chap. 2. part 3.

[29] See chap. 2. part 3.

[30] See chap. 2. part 4.

[31] Chap. 2. part 1. sect. 2.

[32] See chap. 2. part 1. sect. 6.

[33] Act 2.

[34] Omnis enim motus animi, suum quemdam a natura habet vultum et sonum et gestum. Cicero, l. 3. De oratore.

[35] See this explained, Essays on morality and natural religion, part 2. essay 5.

[36] See chap. 2. part 6.

[37] See chap. 17.

[38] Though a soliloquy in the perturbation of passion is undoubtedly natural, and indeed not unfrequent in real life; yet Congreve, who himself has penned several good soliloquies, yields, with more candor than knowledge, that they are unnatural; and he only pretends to justify them from necessity. This he does in his dedication of the Double Dealer, in the following words. “When a man in soliloquy reasons with himself, and pro’s and con’s, and weighs all his designs; we ought not to imagine, that this man either talks to us, or to himself; he is only thinking, and thinking (frequently) such matter as were inexcuseable folly in him to speak. But because we are concealed spectators of the plot in agitation, and the poet finds it necessary to let us know the whole mystery of his contrivance, he is willing to inform us of this person’s thoughts; and to that end is forced to make use of the expedient of speech, no other better way being yet invented for the communication of thought.”

[39] Act 3. sc. 6.

[40] The actions here chiefly in view, are what a passion suggests in order to its gratification. Beside these, actions are occasionally exerted to give some vent to a passion, without proposing an ultimate gratification. Such occasional action is characteristical of the passion in a high degree; and for that reason, when happily invented, has a wonderful good effect in poetry:

Hamlet. Oh most pernicious woman!
Oh villain, villain, smiling damned villain!
My tables—— meet it is I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I’m sure it may be so in Denmark. [Writing.
So, uncle, there you are.
Hamlet, act 1. sc. 8.

[41] See chap. 2. part 7.

[42] See passions explained as agreeable or disagreeable, chap. 2. part 2.

[43] Locke.

[44] Rough and blunt manners, are allied to anger by an internal feeling, as well as by external expressions resembling in a faint degree those of anger. Therefore such manners are easily heightened into anger; and savages for that reason are prone to anger. Thus rough and blunt manners are unhappy in two respects. They are first readily converted into anger: and next, the change being imperceptible, because of the similitude of external signs, the person against whom the anger is directed is not put upon his guard. It is for these reasons a great object in society, to correct such manners, and to bring on a habit of sweetness and calmness. This temper has two opposite good effects. First it is not easily provoked to wrath. Next the interval being great betwixt it and real anger, a person of this temper who receives an affront, has many changes to go through before his anger be inflamed. These changes have each of them their external sign, and the offending party is put upon his guard, to retire, or to endeavour a reconciliation.

[45] See chap. 2. part 1. sect. 5.

[46] See chap. 2. part 7.

[47] See Appendix.

[48] In the Æneid, the hero is made to describe himself in the following words: Sum pius Æneas, fama super æthera notus. Virgil could never have been guilty of an impropriety so gross, had he assumed the personage of his hero, instead of uttering the sentiments of a spectator. Nor would Xenophon have made the following speech for Cyrus the younger, to his Grecian auxiliaries, whom he was leading against his brother Artaxerxes. “I have chosen you, O Greeks! my auxiliaries, not to enlarge my army, for I have Barbarians without number; but because you surpass all the Barbarians in valour and military discipline.” This sentiment is Xenophon’s; for surely Cyrus did not reckon his countrymen Barbarians.

[49] See chap. 2. part 1. sect 6.

[50] This criticism reaches the French dramatic writers in general, with very few exceptions. Their tragedies are mostly, if not totally, descriptive. Corneille led the way; and later writers following his track, have accustomed the French ear to a style, formal, pompous, declamatory, which suits not with any passion. Hence it becomes an easy task to burlesk a French tragedy: it is not more difficult than to burlesk a stiff solemn fop. The facility of the operation has in Paris introduced a singular amusement, which is, to burlesk the more successful tragedies in a sort of farce, called a parody. La Motte, who himself appears to have been sorely galled by some of these burlesk compositions, acknowledges, that no more is necessary to give them a run, than barely to vary the dramatis personæ, and in place of kings and heroes, queens and princesses, to substitute tinkers and tailors, milkmaids and seamstresses. The declamatory style, so different from the genuine expression of passion, passes in some measure unobserved, when great personages are the speakers. But in the mouths of the vulgar, the impropriety, with regard to the speaker as well as to the passion represented, is so remarkable as to become ridiculous. A tragedy, where every passion is made to speak in its natural tone, is not liable to be thus burlesked. The same passion is by all men expressed nearly in the same manner: and therefore the genuine expressions of passion cannot be ridiculous in the mouth of any man, provided only he be of such a character as to be susceptible of the passion.

It is a well-known fact, that to an English ear the French actors appear to pronounce with too great rapidity; a complaint much insisted on by Cibber in particular, who had frequently heard the famous Baron upon the French stage. This may in some measure be attributed to our want of facility in the French language; as foreigners generally imagine, that every language is pronounced too quick by natives. But that it is not the sole cause, will be probable from a fact directly opposite, that the French are not a little disgusted with the languidness, as they term it, of the English pronunciation. I conjecture this difference of taste may be derived from what is observed above. The pronunciation of the genuine language of passion is necessarily directed by the nature of the passion, and by the slowness or celerity of its progress. In particular, plaintive passions, which are the most frequent in tragedy, having a slow motion, dictate a slow pronunciation. In declamation again, which is not the genuine language of any passion, the speaker warms gradually; and as he warms, he naturally accelerates his pronunciation. But as the French have formed their tone of pronunciation upon Corneille’s declamatory tragedies, and the English upon the more natural language of Shakespear, it is not surprising that custom should produce such difference of taste in the two nations.

[51] See chap. 2. part 3.

[52] See chap. 2. part 7.

[53] Titus Livius, l. 29. §17.

[54] Canto 20. stan. 124. 125. & 126.

[55] Page 316.

[56] Act 1. sc. 1.

[57] Act 2. sc. 1.

[58] Beginning of act 2.

[59] Act 3. sc. 3. at the close.

[60] A certain author says humourously, “Les mots mêmes d’amour et d’amant sont bannis de l’intime société des deux sexes, et relegués avec ceux de chaine et de flame dans les Romans qu’on ne lit plus.” And where nature is once banished, a fair field is open to every fantastic imitation, even the most extravagant.

[61] Act 4. sc. 5.

[62] Act 4. sc. 7.

[63] This observation is finely illustrated by a story which Herodotus records, book 3. Cambyses when he conquered Egypt, took Psammenitus the King prisoner: and to try his constancy, ordered his daughter to be dressed in the habit of a slave, and to be employ’d in bringing water from the river. His son also was led to execution with a halter about his neck. The Egyptians vented their sorrow in tears and lamentations. Psammenitus only, with a down-cast eye, remained silent. Afterward meeting one of his companions, a man advanced in years, who being plundered of all, was begging alms, he wept bitterly, calling him by his name. Cambyses was struck with wonder, and sent a messenger with the following question, “Psammenitus, thy master Cambyses is desirous to know, why, after thou hadst seen thy daughter so ignominiously treated, and thy son led to execution, without exclamation or weeping, thou shouldst be so highly concerned for a poor man no way related to thee?” Psammenitus returned the following answer: “Son of Cyrus, the calamities of my family are too great to leave me the power of weeping: but the misfortunes of a companion, reduced in his old age to want of bread, is a fit subject for lamentation.”

[64] See chap. 2. part 3.

[65] Chap. 16.

[66] See this explained more particularly in chap. 8.

[67] Of this take the following specimen:

They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase
Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes
From our atchievements, though perform’d at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men,
That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty,
Since Nature cannot chuse his origin),
By the o’ergrowth of some complexion
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;
Or by some habit, that too much o’er-leavens
The form of plausive manners; that these men
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
(Being Nature’s livery, or Fortune’s scar),
Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault.
Hamlet, act 1. sc. 7.

[68] The critics seem not perfectly to comprehend the genius of Shakespear. His plays are defective in the mechanical part, which is less the work of genius than of experience; and is not otherwise brought to perfection than by diligently observing the errors of former compositions. Shakespear excels all the ancients and moderns, in knowledge of human nature, and in unfolding even the most obscure and refined emotions. This is a rare faculty, and of the greatest importance in a dramatic author; and it is this faculty which makes him surpass all other writers in the comic as well as tragic vein.

[69] Soliloquies accounted for chap. 15.

[70] Act 2. sc. 2.

[71] Act 1. sc. 1.

[72] Act 1. sc. 2.

[73] Act 1. sc. 2.

[74] See chap. 2. part 1. sect. 4.

[75] Here the German a is understood.

[76] That the Italian tongue is rather too smooth, seems to appear from considering, that in versification vowels are frequently suppressed in order to produce a rougher and bolder tone.

[77] See Swift’s proposal for correcting the English tongue, in a letter to the Earl of Oxford.

[78] See the reason, chap. 8.

[79] De structura perfectæ orationis, l. 2.

[80] Scot’s Christian life.

[81] Elements of criticism, vol. 1. p. 43.

[82] Chap. 2. part 4.

[83] Ibid.

[84] See Gerard’s French grammar, discourse 12.

[85] An argument against abolishing Christianity, Swift.

[86] Letter concerning enthusiasm. Shaftesbury.

[87] See chap. 8.

[88] Treatise of the sublime, cap. 16.

[89] Taking advantage of a declension to separate an adjective from its substantive, as is commonly practised in Latin, though it detract not from perspicuity, is certainly less neat than the English method of juxtaposition. Contiguity is more expressive of an intimate relation, than resemblance merely of the final syllables. Latin indeed has evidently the advantage when the adjective and substantive happen to be connected by contiguity as well as by the resemblance of the final syllables.

[90] See chap. 1.

[91] Reflections sur la poesie Françoise.

[92] See chap. 2. part 1. sect. 4.

[93] Poet. L. 3. l. 365.-454.

[94] See chap. 2. part 4.

[95] De oratore, l. 3. cap. 58.

[96] De structura orationis, sect. 2.

[97] From this passage, however, we discover the etymology of the Latin term for musical expression. Every one being sensible that there is no music in a continued sound; the first inquiries were probably carried no farther, than that to produce a musical expression, a number of sounds is necessary; and musical expression obtained the name of numerus, before it was clearly ascertained, that variety is necessary as well as number.

[98] Music, properly so called, is analysed into melody and harmony. A succession of sounds so as to be agreeable to the ear, constitutes melody. Harmony is the pleasure that arises from co-existing sounds. Verse therefore can only reach melody, and not harmony.

[99] After some attention given to this subject, and weighing deliberately every circumstance, I have been forc’d to rest upon the foregoing conclusion, That the Dactyle and Spondee are no other than artificial measures invented for trying the accuracy of composition. Repeated experiments convince me, that though the sense should be altogether neglected, an Hexameter line read by Dactyles and Spondees, will not be melodious. And the composition of an Hexameter line demonstrates this to be true, without necessity of an experiment. It will appear afterward, that in an Hexameter line, there must always be a capital pause at the end of the fifth long syllable, reckoning, as above, two short for one long. And when we measure this line by Dactyles and Spondees, the pause now mentioned divides always a Dactyle or a Spondee: it never falls in at the end of either of these feet. Hence it is evident, that if a line be pronounced, as it is scanned, by Dactyles and Spondees, the pause must be utterly neglected; which consequently must destroy the melody, because a pause is essential to the melody of an Hexameter verse. If, on the other hand, the melody be preserved by making this pause, the pronouncing by Dactyles and Spondees must be abandoned.

What has led grammarians into the use of Dactyles and Spondees, seems not beyond the reach of conjecture. To produce melody, the latter part of a Hexameter line consisting of a Dactyle and a Spondee, must be read according to these feet: in this part of the line, the Dactyle and Spondee are distinctly expressed in the pronunciation. This discovery, joined with another, that the foregoing part of the verse could be measured by the same feet, has led grammarians to adopt these artificial measures, and perhaps rashly to conclude, that the pronunciation is directed by these feet as well as the composition. The Dactyle and Spondee at the close, serve indeed the double purpose of regulating the pronunciation as well as the composition: but in the foregoing part of the line, they regulate the composition only, not the pronunciation.

If we must have feet in verse to regulate the pronunciation, and consequently the melody, these feet must be determined by the pauses. The whole syllables interjected betwixt two pauses ought to be deemed one musical foot; because, to preserve the melody, they must all be pronounced together, without any stop. And therefore, whatever number there are of pauses in a Hexameter line, the parts into which it is divided by these pauses, make just so many musical feet.

Connection obliges me here to anticipate, by observing, that the same doctrine is applicable to English heroic verse. Considering its composition merely, it is of two kinds. One is composed of five Iambi; and one of a Trochæus followed by four Iambi. But these feet afford no rule for pronouncing. The musical feet are obviously those parts of the line that are interjected betwixt two pauses. To bring out the melody, these feet must be expressed in the pronunciation; or, which comes to the same, the pronunciation must be directed by the pauses, without regard to the Iambus or Trochæus.

[100] See chap. 2. part 1. sect. 4.

[101] Poet. cap. 25.

[102] See chap. 9.

[103] Vossius, de poematum cantu, p. 26. says, “Nihil æque gravitati orationis officit, quam in sono ludere syllabarum.”

[104] Spectator, Nº 285.

[105] Preface to his Œdipus, and in his discourse upon tragedy, prefixed to the tragedy of Brutus.

---