the poet must have acquired over the train of his ideas, in order to be able to express himself with elegance, and the appearance of ease, under the restraint which rhyme imposes. In witty or in humorous performances, this surprise serves to enliven that which the wit or the humor produces, and renders its effects more sensible. How flat do the liveliest and most ludicrous thoughts appear in blank verse? And how wonderfully is the wit of Pope heightened, by the easy and happy rhymes in which it is expressed? Other sources of pleasure in wit and in rhyme. It must not, however, be imagined, either in the case of wit or of rhyme, that the pleasure arises solely from our surprise at the uncommon habits of association which the author discovers. In the former case, there must be presented to the mind, an unexpected analogy or relation between different ideas; and perhaps other circumstances must concur to render the wit perfect. If the combination has no other merit than that of bringing together two ideas which never met before, we may be surprised at its oddity, but we do not consider it as a proof of wit. On the contrary, the want of any analogy or relation between the combined ideas, leads us to suspect, that the one did not suggest the other in consequence of any habits of association; but that the two were brought together by study, or by mere accident. All that I affirm is, that when the analogy or relation is pleasing in itself, our pleasure is heightened by our surprise at the author's habits of association when compared with our own. In the case of rhyme, too, there is undoubtedly a certain degree of pleasure arising from the recurrence of the same sound. We frequently observe children amuse themselves with repeating over single words which rhyme together; and the lower people, who derive little pleasure from poetry excepting in so far as it affects the ear, are so pleased with the echo of the rhymes, that when they read verses where it is not perfect, they are apt to supply the poet's defects by violating the common rules of pronunciation. This pleasure, however, is heightened by our admiration at the miraculous powers which the poet must have acquired over the train of his ideas, and over all the modes of expression which the language affords, in order to convey instruction and entertainment, without transgressing the established laws of regular versification. In some of the lower kinds of poetry; for example, in acrostics, and in the lines which are adapted to bouts-rimés, the merit lies entirely in this command of thought. and expression; or, in other words, in a command of ideas founded on extraordinary habits of association. Even some authors of a superior class occasionally show an inclination to display their knack at rhyming, by introducing, at the end of the first line of a couplet, some word to which the language hardly affords a corresponding sound. Swift, in his more trifling pieces, abounds with instances of this; and in Hudibras, when the author uses his double and triple rhymes, many couplets have no merit whatever but what arises from difficulty of exe cution. Chief pleasure derived from rhymes.-The pleasure we receive from rhyme in serious compositions, arises from a combination of different circumstances which my present subject does not lead me to investigate particularly.* I am persuaded, however, that it arises, in part, from our surprise at the poet's habits of association, which enable him to convey his thoughts with ease and beauty, notwithstanding the narrow limits within which his choice of expression is confined. One proof of this is, that if * In elegiac poetry, the occurrence of the same sound, and the uniformity in the structure of the versification which this necessarily occasions, are peculiarly suited to the inactivity of the mind, and to the slow and equable succession of its ideas, when under the influence of tender or melancholy passions; and accordingly, in such cases, even the Latin poets, though the genius of their language be very ill fitted for compositions in rhyme, occasionally indulge themselves in something very nearly approaching to it: "Memnona si mater, mater ploravit Achillem, Et tangant magnas tristia fata Deas; Ah nimis ex vero nunc tibi nomen erit." Many other instances of the same kind might be produced from the elegiac verses of Ovid and Tibullus. there appear any mark of constraint, either in the ideas or in the expression, our pleasure is proportionally diminished. The thoughts must seem to suggest each other, and the rhymes to be only an accidental circumstance. The same remark may be made on the measure of the verse. When in its greatest perfection, it does not appear to be the result of labor, but to be dictated by nature, or prompted by inspiration. In Pope's best verses, the idea is expressed with as little inversion of style, and with as much conciseness, precision, and propriety, as the author could have attained, had he been writing prose: without any apparent exertion on his part, the words seem spontaneously to arrange themselves in the most musical numbers. "While still a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came." This facility of versification, it is true, may be, and probably is, in most cases, only apparent; and it is reasonable to think, that in the most perfect poetical productions, not only the choice of words, but the choice of ideas, is influenced by the rhymes. In a prose composition, the author holds on in a direct course, according to the plan he has previously formed; but in a poem, the rhymes which occur to him are perpetually diverting him to the right hand or to the left, by suggesting ideas which do not naturally rise out of his subject. This, I presume, is Butler's meaning in the following: Rhymes the rudder are of verses, With which, like ships, they steer their courses." But although this may be the case in fact, the poet must employ all his art to conceal it: insomuch that if he finds himself under a necessity to introduce, on account of the rhymes, a superfluous idea, or an awkward expression, he must place it in the first line of the couplet, and not in the second; for the reader, naturally presuming that the lines were composed in the order in which the author arranges them, is more apt to suspect the second line to be accommodated to the first, than the first to the second. And this slight artifice is, in general, sufficient to impose on that degree of attention with which poetry is read. Who can doubt that, in the following lines, Pope wrote the first for the sake of the second? "A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod; An honest man's the noblest work of God." Were the first of these lines, or a line equally unmeaning, placed last, the couplet would have appeared execrable to a person of the most moderate taste. Why alliteration is introduced. It affords a strong confirmation of the foregoing observations, that the poets of some nations have delighted in the practice of alliteration, as well as of rhyme; and have ever considered it as an essential circumstance in versification. Dr. Beattie observes, that 66 some ancient English poems are more distinguished by alliteration, than by any other poetical contrivance. In the works of Langland, even when no regard is had to rhyme, and but little to a rude sort of anapestic measure, it seems to have been a rule, that three words, at least, of each line should begin with the same letter." A late author informs us, that, in the Icelandic poetry, alliteration is considered as a circumstance no less essential than rhyme. He mentions also several other restraints, which must add wonderfully to the difficulty of versification; and which appear to us to be perfectly arbitrary and capricious. If that really be the case, the whole pleasure of the reader or hearer arises from his surprise at the facility of the poet's composition under these complicated restraints; that is, from his surprise at the command which the poet has acquired over his thoughts and expressions. In our rhyme, I acknowledge that the coincidence of sound is agreeable in itself; and only affirm, that the pleasure which the ear receives from it, is heightened by the other consideration. 3. Of poetical fancy.-There is another habit of association. which, in some men, is very remarkable; that which is the foundation of poetical fancy: a talent which agrees with wit in some circumstances, but which differs from it essentially in others. The pleasure we receive from wit, agrees in one particular with the pleasure which arises from poetical allusions; that in both cases, we are pleased with contemplating an analogy between two different subjects. But they differ in this, that the man of wit has no other aim than to combine analogous ideas;* whereas no allusion can, with propriety, have a place in serious poetry, unless it either illustrate or adorn the principal subject. If it has both these recommendations, the allusion is perfect. If it has neither, as is often the case with the allusions of Cowley and of Young, the fancy of the poet degenerates into wit. If these observations be well founded, they suggest a rule with respect to poetical allusions, which has not always been sufficiently attended to. It frequently happens, that two subjects bear an analogy to each other in more respects than one; and where such can be found, they undoubtedly furnish the most · favorable of all occasions for the display of wit. But, in serious poetry, I am inclined to think, that however striking these analogies may be, and although each of them might with propriety, be made the foundation of a separate allusion, it is improper, in the course of the same allusion, to include more than one of them; as, by doing so, an author discovers an affectation of wit, or a desire of tracing analogies, instead of illustrating or adorning the subject of his composition.† Why poetical fancy pleases. I formerly defined fancy to be * I speak here of pure and unmixed wit; and not of wit blended, as it is most commonly, with some degree of humor. † In the following stanza of Shenstone, for example, How pale was then his true-love's cheek, When Jemmy's sentence reached her ear! For never yet did Alpine snows So pale, or yet so chill appear;" the double allusion unquestionably borders on conceit. The same double allusion occurs in the translation of Mallet's " William and Margaret," by Vincent Bourne, "Candidior nive, frigidiorque manus." How inferior in pathetic simplicity to the original, And clay cold was the lily hand, etc. |