The particular words I object to are, instinct is a great matter, which make but a poor figure, compared with the liveliness of the rest of the speech. It was one of Homer’s advantages, that he wrote before general terms were multiplied: the superior genius of Shakespear displays itself in avoiding them after they were multiplied. Addison describes the family of Sir Roger de Coverley in the following words.
You would take his valet de chambre for his brother, his butler is gray-headed, his groom is one of the gravest men that I have ever seen, and his coachman has the looks of a privy counsellor.
Spectator, Nº 106.
The description of the groom is less lively than of the others; plainly because the expression, being vague and general, tends not to form any image. “Dives opum variarum[41],” is an expression still more vague; and so are the following.
———— Mæcenas, mearum
Grande decus, columenque rerum.
Horat. Carm. l. 2. ode 17.
———————— et fide Teia
Dices laborantes in uno
Penelopen, vitreamque Circen.
Horat. Carm. l. 1. ode 17.
In the fine arts, it is a rule, to put the capital objects in the strongest point of view; and even to present them oftener than once, where it can be done. In history-painting, the principal figure is placed in the front, and in the best light: an equestrian statue is placed in a centre of streets, that it may be seen from many places at once. In no composition is there a greater opportunity for this rule than in writing:
———— Sequitur pulcherrimus Astur,
Astur equo fidens et versicoloribus armis.
Æneid. x. 180.
——————Full many a lady
I’ve ey’d with best regard, and many a time
Th’ harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear, for several virtues
Have I lik’d several women, never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow’d,
And put it to the foil. But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature’s best.
The Tempest, act 3. sc. 1.
With thee conversing I forget all time;
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flow’r,
Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertil earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild, the silent night
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heav’n, her starry train:
But neither breath of morn, when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,
Glistering with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night,
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon,
Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.
Paradise Lost, book 4. l. 634.