Analysis. The objects contained in this comparison are so little known, even to those who claim the character of being learned, and they are so totally unknown to the greater part of readers, that it has the appearance of a riddle, or a pompous parade of erudition, rather than of a figure to illustrate something less conspicuous and striking than itself. Many of the similes, also, which were frequent and beautiful among the Greeks and Romans, as those drawn from the lion, the tiger, the wolf, the sphinx, the griffin, animals with the characters and properties of which they were supposed to be well acquainted, are retained by modern poets with much impropriety. To the learned they are destitute of novelty, an essential ingredient in every good comparison; to the unlearned, they are involved in much greater obscurity than the subjects they are brought to illuminate.

280. Comparisons should not be deduced from objects which rise much above, or fall much below the primary object; nor should they suggest feelings discordant with the tone of the emotion which the object prompts. If a comparison soar too high, it throws ridicule, instead of embellishment, on the object it is intended to adorn; the latter suffering from contrast, instead of being elevated by similitude.

Example 1. The subsequent comparison is reprehensible in this view. Homer paints the noise of opening the great lock of the repos itories of Ulysses, by a comparison that borders on burlesque :

"Loud as a bull makes hill and valley ring.

So roar'd the lock when it released the spring."

281. If, again, a comparison be destitute of dignity, some portion of its insignificance is transferred to the principal object.

Example. Milton describes the surprise of the fallen angels by a similitude which savours of levity.

"They hear'd, and were abashed, and up they sprung
Upon the wing; as when men wont to watch
On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake."

Analysis. Milton did not intend to ridicule the appearance of fallen angels by this comparison; if he had so intended, he would have deserved applause, for every reader feels how successful he would have been.

Example 2. Homer paints the equality of the contest between the Greeks and Trojans, in a well-fought field, by the equilibrium of a balance destined to weigh wool.

"As when two scales are charg'd with doubtful loads,
From side to side the trembling balance nods,
(While some laborious matron, just and poor,
With nice exactness weighs her woolly store),
Till poised aloft, the resting beam suspends
Each equal weight; nor this nor that descends.
So stood the war; till Hector's matchless might,
With fates prevailing, turn'd the scale of flight.
Fierce as a whirlwind up the wall he flies,

And fires his host with loud repeated cries."

Scholium. Similes like these not only degrade the principal object, but they hurt it in another point of view, they disgust the imagination by a reversal of that order of ideas which is the most pleasant. In transitions from one object to another, the most agreeable succession is, to rise from the less to the greater. The mind inclines to extend its views, and to enlarge the sphere of its gratifications. In reversing this order of succession, it holds an opposite course. It is obliged to retrench its views, and to circumscribe its enjoyments; an operation manifestly unpleasant.

282. But comparisons are still more censurable, when they prompt feelings discordant with the aim of the principal object, or when they suggest sentiments painful or disagreeable.

Example. Addison, speaking of the later Greeks' poems, in the shape of eggs, wings, and altars, introduces the following similitude : "The poetry was to contract or dilate itself according to the mould in which it was cast; in a word, the verses were to be cramped or extended to the dimensions of the frame prepared for them, and to undergo the fate of those persons whom the tyrant Procrustes used to lodge in his iron bed; if they were too short, he stretched them on the rack; and if they were too long, he chopped off a part of their body, till they fitted the couch he had prepared for them."

Analysis. The comparison is abundantly pertinent, but the tone of it is totally discordant with that of the subject which it is brought to illustrate. The pleasantry inspired by the foolish efforts of the minor poets is extinguished by the horror excited at the conduct of Pro

crustes.

283. It is to be observed, in the last place, that comparisons should never be founded on resemblances which are too obvious and familiar, nor on those which are imaginary.

Illus. 1. To compare love to a fire, violent passion to a tempest, virtue to the sun, or distress to a flower dropping its head, are all similes, either so obvious or so trite, as long ago to have lost all power of pleasing.

Illus. 2. In comparisons founded on imaginary resemblances, the literal sense of the comparison bears an analogy to the metaphorical sense of the primary object. Thus, chastity is cold metaphorically, and an icicle is cold naturally; and for this whimsical reason, a chaste woman is compared to an icicle. The best poets have either indulged in such exceptionable similes, or have inadvertently adopted them. Examples. Thus Shakespeare, in Coriolanus:

"The noble sister of Poplicola,

The moon of Rome; chaste as an icicle
That's curled by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Diana's temple."

Example 2. Lord Bolingbroke supposes a similitude between the discovery of truth, from comparing the accounts of different historians, and the production of fire by the collision of flint and steel: "Where their sincerity as to fact is doubtful, we strike out truth by a confrontation of different accounts, as we strike out sparks of fire by the collision of flint and steel."

Analysis. To illustrate the futility of such comparisons, let us change the expression of the last example, and the shadow of resemblance will vanish: "Where historians differ in their accounts of the same transaction, whether prompted by insincerity, or any other reprehensible disposition, we discover the truth by comparing them, and making them correct one another, and we generate fire by the collision of flint and steel." As the act of comparing different authors can scarcely be called collision, so different authors have no analogy with flint and steel. The word strike, used figuratively in the first member of the sentence, and literally in the second member, seems to have prompted the author to employ this imaginary comparison.

284. Extended similes may be introduced with advantage on various occasions. They are consistent with abstract disquisition, and with perfect coolness and composure of mind. Such gentle appeals to the imagination, even in philosophical composition, always relieve and amuse the reader, and often add illustration to pleasure.

285. There remains another species of composition, in which long and circumstantial comparisons frequently appear; it is that placid and feeble composition which can scarcely be said to instruct, for it contains little research or argument, but which has for its capital aim, to amuse the imagination by a number of pretty or familiar resemblances.

Obs. Though similes are often the work of the boldest and most fervid fancy, yet none of the ornaments of language are perhaps more allied to deficiency of genius and taste, both in the writer and the

reader.

286. Long comparisons can scarcely be admitted with propriety into other productions than those we have enumerated. History, in the hands of all writers of genius, has rejected them with disdain, though it admits short similitudes restricted to the mere province of illustration.

Example. Hume thus characterises Shakespeare: "There may remain a suspicion that we over-rate the greatness of his genius, in the same manner as bodies appear more gigantic, by their being disproportioned or mis-shapen."

Obs. If any one chooses to learn from experience the repugnance between the spirit of history and circumstantial comparisons, he may have recourse to Strada, author of the History of the Belgic War. He will there find, that the too frequent use of this ornament diminishes the dignity and the credibility of the performance, and communicates to a relation of truth much of the levity and frivolity of a romance.

287. Oratory, for a similar reason, repudiates lengthened similes, though it admits short ones, and abounds with other figures; particularly interrogation, metaphor, and personification.

Illus. In the more animated orations of Cicero, there is scarcely to be found a single comparison of any extent. Demosthenes, still more ardent, more rarely indulges in the use of them. The minds of these illustrious orators were too deeply engaged with their matter, to be attentive to beauties calculated only to please. They aimed at the instruction aud conviction of their hearers, not to captivate their imagin ations. They would have been ashamed to appear to have spent their time in ransacking nature for resemblances, however pertinent and brilliant, if not absolutely necessary. The ardour and penetration of their minds would not have been, perhaps, very favourable to their success, had they condescended to hunt for such puerile and declamatory ornaments.

288. But of all improper occasions on which circumstantial similes can make their appearance, the most improper are the tender scenes of tragedy; and yet such inconsistences present themselves in some dramatic productions of no small reputation.

Illus. Addison was endued with much sensibility in respect of sublime sentiments and the peculiarities of manners; but he seems to have been incapable of conceiving any high degree of passion. His characters, accordingly, in the tragedy of Cato, display many of those splendid and dignified conceptions which he had imbibed in perusing the orators and poets of ancient Rome, but all savour of the Stoicism of Cato; and when they attempt to utter the language of passion, they deviate into declamation, or adopt the frigid expression of tame spectators. The scene between Lucia and Portius, in the third act, will afford ample proof of the justness of these remarks.

Example 1. When Portius, from preceding behaviour and acknowl. edgment on the part of Lucia, had every reason to believe he was favoured with her love, and was anticipating the satisfaction of such a connection, in the most unexpected change of disposition, she informs him that she had made a vow never to marry him. Never was a man thrown more suddenly from the pinnacle of felicity, into the abyss of despair. How does he express himself in such a critical situation? He introduces a comparison in the language of a spectator, descriptive of the attitude in which his agitation had placed him, without uttering a single sentiment of passion :

"Fixt in astonishment, I gaze upon thee, '
Like one just blasted by a stroke from heaven,
Who pants for breath, and stiffens, yet alive
In dreadful looks, -a monument of woe."

Example 2. Lucia replies in the same language of description:

Analysis. One would imagine, that the author of the Rehearsal had in view such unnatural composition. But we cannot help being surprised that Addison did not profit by his remarks. "Now here she' must make a simile," says Mr. Bays. "Where's the necessity of that?" replies Mr. Smith. "Because she's surprised; that's a general rule; you must ever make a simile when you are surprised; 'tis the new way of writing."

289. But although such deliberate and highly-finished comparisons are inconsistent with every violent exertion of passion, yet short similes, adapted entirely to the purpose of illustration, may appear in the most passionate scenes.

Illus. There is scarcely a tragedy in any language, in which passion assumes so high a tone, and is so well supported, as in the Moor of Venice; and yet, in one of the most passionate scenes of that passionate tragedy, no reader can hesitate about the propriety of introducing two similes, besides several bold metaphors.

Example. Othello thus deliberates, in the deepest agitation, about the murder of his wife, on account of her supposed infidelity :

"It is the cause, my soul,

Let me not name it to you ye chaste stars!
It is the cause ;-yet I'll not shed her blood,
Nor scar that whiter skin of her's than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster ;
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then put out thy light.
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy flaming light restore,
Should I repent; but once put out thy light,
Thou cunningest pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is the Promethean heat
That can thy light relumine.

When I have pluck'd thy rose,

I cannot give it vital growth again,
It needs must wither."

Analysis. The comparisons of the skin of Desdemona to snow in point of whiteness, and to alabaster in point of smoothness, are admirably adapted to improve our ideas of her beauty, and consequently to heighten the tide of the Moor's distress, in being obliged to put to death, from principles of honour, a woman he had so much reason to admire. The meditation on the resemblance between her life and the light of a taper is striking and melancholy; and the comparison between her death and the plucking of a rose is perfectly concordant with the same sentiments.

Corol. Short similes, which aid the impression by rendering our conceptions more vivid and significant, are therefore consistent with the highest swell of passion.