the same intense manner differ repose and restlessness; felicity and misery; dubious solicitude and firm resolution; the epic and the comic; the sublime and the ludicrous."

And, why differ contraries thus widely? Because while attributes, simply different, may coexist in the same subject, contraries cannot coexist, but always destroy one another." Thus the same marble may be both white and hard; but the same marble cannot be both white and black. And hence it follows, that as their difference is more intense, so is our recognition of them more vivid, and our impressions more per

manent.

This effect of contraries is evident even in objects of sense, where imagination and intellect are not in the least concerned. When we pass (for example) from a hot-house, we feel the common air more intensely cool; when we pass from a dark cavern, we feel the common light of the day more intensely glaring. But to proceed to instances of another and a very different kind.

Few scenes are more affecting than the taking of Troy, as described in the second Eneid: The apparition of Hector to Æneas, when asleep, announcing to him the commencement of that direful event-the distant lamentations, heard by Æneas, as he awakes his ascending the house-top, and viewing the city in flames his friend Pentheus, escaped from destruction, and relating to him their wretched and deplorable condition-Æneas, with a few friends, rushing into the thickest danger their various success, till they all perish, but himself and two more— the affecting scenes of horror and pity at Priam's palace-a son, slain at his father's feet; and the immediate massacre of the old monarch himself-Æneas, on seeing this, inspired with the memory of his own father-his resolving to return home, having now lost all his companions-his seeing Helen in the way, and his design to despatch so wicked a woman-Venus interposing,

"From these instances we perceive the meaning of those descriptions of contraries, that they are à πλeîσтov diapépovтa Tv ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ γένει—ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ δεκτικῷ TŵV ÚπÒ THν ÀνThy dúvaμiv: “things which differ most widely, among things existing in the same genus, in the same recipient, comprehended under the same power or faculty." Arist. Metaph. A. i. p. 82. edit. Sylb. Cicero, in his Topics, translates the first description, Quæ in eodem genere plurimum differunt. Sect. 70.

Aristotle reasons as follows: 'ETTel dè διαφέρειν ἐνδέχεται ἀλλήλων τὰ διαφέροντα πλεῖον καὶ ἔλαττον, ἐστί τις καὶ μεγίστη διαφορά, καὶ ταύτην λέγω ἐνανTwo: "It being admitted that things differing from one another, differ more and

less, there must be also a certain difference, which is most, and this I call contrariety." Metaph. p. 162. edit. Sylb.

• Ammonius, commenting the doctrine of contraries, (as set forth in Aristotle's Categories,) informs us, that "they not only do not imply one another, (as a son necessarily implies a father,) but that they even destroy one another, so that, where one is present, the other cannot remain:" où μόνον οὐ συνεισφέρει ἄλληλα, ἀλλὰ καὶ φθείρει· τοῦ γὰρ ἑνὸς πάροντος, οὐχ ὑπομévei Tò Tepov. Ammon, in Categ. p. 147. edit. Venet. The Stagirite himself de scribes them in the same manner: τὰ μὴ δυνατὰ ἅμα τῷ αὐτῷ παρεῖναι : things that cannot be present at once in the same subject." Metaph. A. p. 82. edit. Sylb.

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and shewing him (by removing the film from his eyes) the most sublime, though most direful, of all sights, the gods themselves busied in Troy's destruction; Neptune at one employ, Juno at another, Pallas at a third-It is not Helen (says Venus) but the gods, that are the authors of your country's ruin-it is their inclemency, &c.

Not less solemn and awful, though less leading to pity, is the commencement of the sixth Eneid: The Sibyl's cavern-her frantic gestures, and prophecy-the request of Æneas to descend to the shades-her answer, and information about the loss of one of his friends-the fate of poor Misenus-his funeral—the golden bough discovered, a preparatory circumstance for the descentthe sacrifice the ground bellowing under their feet-the woods. in motion-the dogs of Hecate howling-the actual descent in all its particulars of the marvellous and the terrible.

If we pass from an ancient author to a modern, what scene more striking than the first scene in Hamlet? The solemnity of the time, a severe and pinching night-the solemnity of the place, a platform for a guard-the guards themselves; and their apposite discourse-yonder star in such a position; the bell then beating one-when description is exhausted, the thing itself appears, the ghost enters.

From Shakspeare, the transition to Milton is natural. What pieces have ever met a more just, as well as universal applause, than his L'Allegro and Il Penseroso? The first, a combination of every incident that is lively and cheerful; the second, of every incident that is melancholy and serious: the materials of each collected, according to their character, from rural life, from city life, from music, from poetry; in a word, from every part of nature, and every part of art.

To pass from poetry to painting, the Crucifixion of Polycrates, by Salvator Rosa," is a most affecting representation of various human figures, seen under different modes of horror and pity, as they contemplate a dreadful spectacle, the crucifixion above mentioned. The Aurora of Guido, on the other side, is one of those joyous exhibitions, where nothing is seen but youth and beauty, in every attitude of elegance and grace. The former picture in poetry would have been a deep Penseroso; the latter, a most pleasing and animated Allegro.

And to what cause are we to refer these last enumerations of striking effects?

To a very different one from the former: not to an opposition of contrary incidents, but to a concatenation or accumulation of many that are similar and congenial.

And why have concatenation and accumulation such a force? From these most simple and obvious truths, that many things similar, when added together, will be more in quantity than any

P See page 30.

one of them taken singly; consequently, that the more things are thus added, the greater will be their effect.9

We have mentioned at the same time both accumulation and concatenation, because in painting, the objects, by existing at once, are accumulated; in poetry, as they exist by succession, they are not accumulated, but concatenated. Yet, through memory and imagination,' even these also derive an accumulative force, being preserved from passing away by those admirable faculties, till, like many pieces of metal melted together, they collectively form one common magnitude.

It must be further remembered, there is an accumulation of things analogous, even when those things are the objects of different faculties. For example: as are passionate gestures to the eye, so are passionate tones to the ear; so are passionate ideas to the imagination. To feel the amazing force of an accumulation like this, we must see some capital actor acting the drama of some capital poet, where all the powers of both are assembled at the same instant.

And thus have we endeavoured, by a few obvious and easy examples, to explain what we mean by the words, “seeking the cause, or reason, as often as we feel works of art and ingenuity to affect us.'" 99 S

If I might advise a beginner in this elegant pursuit, it should be, as far as possible, to recur for principles to the most plain and simple truths, and to extend every theorem, as he advances, to its utmost latitude, so as to make it suit and include the greatest number of possible cases.

I would advise him further, to avoid subtle and far-fetched refinement, which, as it is for the most part adverse to perspicuity and truth, may serve to make an able sophist, but never an able critic.

Quinctilian observes, that the man who tells us, 66 a city was stormed," includes, in what he says, "all things which such a disaster implies ;" and yet for all that, such a brief information less affects us than a detail, because it is less striking, to deliver the whole at once, than it is to enumerate the several particulars. His words are, Minus est totum dicere, quam omnia. Quinct. Institut. viii. 3.

The whole is well worth reading, particularly his detail of the various and horrid events which befall the storming of a city. Sine dubio enim, qui dicit expugnatam esse civitatem, &c.

Aristotle reasons much after the same manner: Καὶ διαιρούμενα δέ εἰς τὰ μέρη, τὰ αὐτὰ μείζω φαίνεται πλειόνων γὰρ ὑπεροχὴ φαίνεται: “ The same things, divided into parts, appear greater, for then there appears an excess or an abundance of many things."

A word more; I would advise a young critic, in his contemplations, to turn his eye rather to the praiseworthy than the blameable; that is, to investigate the causes of praise rather than the causes of blame. For though an uninformed beginner may in a single instance happen to blame properly, it is more than probable that in the next he may fail, and incur the censure passed upon the criticising cobler, Ne sutor ultra crepidam.*

We are now to inquire concerning numerous composition.

CHAPTER II.

NUMEROUS COMPOSITION, DERIVED FROM QUANTITY SYLLABIC, ANCIENTLY ESSENTIAL BOTH TO VERSE AND PROSE. RHYTHM. PEANS AND CRETICS, THE FEET FOR PROSE. QUANTITY ACCENTUAL-A DEGENERACY FROM THE SYLLABIC. INSTANCES OF IT, FIRST IN LATIN, THEN IN GREEK. VERSUS POLITICI-TRACES OF ACCENTUAL QUANTITY IN TERENCE ESSENTIAL TO MODERN LANGUAGES, AND AMONG OTHERS TO ENGLISH, FROM WHICH LAST EXAMPLES ARE TAKEN.

As numerous composition arises from a just arrangement of words, so is that arrangement just, when formed upon their verbal quantity.

Now if we seek for this verbal quantity in Greek and Latin, we shall find, that while those two languages were in purity, their verbal quantity was in purity also. Every syllable had a measure of time, either long or short, defined with precision either by its constituent vowel, or by the relation of that vowel to other letters adjoining. Syllables thus characterized, when combined, made a foot; and feet thus characterized, when combined, made a verse; so that, while a particular harmony existed in every part, a general harmony was diffused through the whole.

Pronunciation at this period being, like other things, perfect, accent and quantity were accurately distinguished; of which distinction, familiar then, though now obscure, we venture to suggest the following explanation. We compare quantity to musical tones differing in long and short, as, upon whatever line they stand, a semibreve differs from a minim. We compare accent to musical tones differing in high and low, as D upon the third line differs from G upon the first, be its length the same, or be it longer or shorter.

And thus things continued for a succession of centuries, from Homer and Hesiod to Virgil and Horace; during which interval, Pliny, 1. xxv. s. 12, and in Valerius Maximus, l. viii. c. 12.

Those who wish to see the origin of this ingenious proverb, may find it in

if we add a trifle to its end, all the truly classical poets, both Greek and Latin, flourished.

Nor was prose at the same time neglected. Penetrating wits discovered this also to be capable of numerous composition, and founded their ideas upon the following reasonings.

Though they allowed that prose should not be strictly metrical, (for then it would be no longer prose, but poetry,) yet at the same time they asserted, if it had no rhythm at all, such a vague effusion would of course fatigue, and the reader would seek in vain for those returning pauses, so helpful to his reading, and so grateful to his ear."

Now as feet were found an essential to that rhythm, they were obliged, as well as poets, to consider feet under their several characters.

In this contemplation, they found the heroic foot (which includes the spondee, the dactyl, and the anapæst) to be majestic and grave, but yet improper for prose, because, if employed too frequently, the composition would appear epic.

On the contrary, in the iambic they found levity; it often made, though undesignedly, a part of common discourse, and could not, for that reason, but want a suitable dignity.

X

What expedient then remained? They recommended a foot where the former two were blended; where the pomp of the heroic and the levity of the iambic were mutually to correct and temper one another.

But as this appears to require explanation, we shall endeavour, if we can, to render it intelligible, saying something previously upon the nature of rhythm.

Rhythm differs from metre, inasmuch as rhythm is proportion applied to any motion whatever; metre is proportion applied to the motion of words spoken. Thus in the drumming of a march, or the dancing of a hornpipe, there is rhythm though no metre; in Dryden's celebrated Ode, there is metre as well as rhythm, because the poet with the rhythm has associated certain words. And hence it follows, that though all metre is rhythm, yet all rhythm is not metre."

" See Aristot. Rhetor. 1. iii. p. 129. edit. Sylb. Τὸ δὲ σχῆμα τῆς λέξεως δεῖ μήτε ἔμμετρον εἶναι, μήτε ἄῤῥυθμον, κ. τ. λ. 5ο Cicero: Numeris astrictam orationem esse debere, carere versibus. Ad Brut. Orator. s. 187.

* See in the same treatise of Aristotle what is said about these feet, just after the passage above cited. Tŵv dè pvouŵv, 8 μèv npwos σeμvòs, K. T. λ. All that follows is well worth reading.

* Διαφέρει δὲ μέτρον ῥυθμοῦ, ὕλη μὲν γὰρ τοῖς μέτροις ἡ συλλαβὴ, καὶ χωρὶς συλλαβῆς οὐκ ἂν γένοιτο μέτρον· ὁ δὲ ῥυθμὸς γίνεται μὲν καὶ ἐν συλλαβαῖς, γίνε

ται δὲ καὶ χωρὶς συλλαβῆς, καὶ γὰρ ἐν τῷ κρότῳ. Ὅταν μὲν γὰρ τοὺς χαλκέας ἴδωμεν τὰς σφύρας καταφερόντας, ἅμα τινὰ καὶ ῥυθμὸν ἀκούομεν—μέτρον δὲ οὐκ ἂν γένοιτο χωρὶς λέξεως ποιᾶς καὶ ποσῆς: "Metre differs from rhythm, because, with regard to metres, the subject matter is a syllable, and without a syllable (that is, a sound articulate) no metre can exist. But rhythm exists both in and without syllables; for it may be perceived in mere pulsation or striking. It is thus, when we see smiths hammering with their sledges, we hear, at the same time, (in their strokes,) a certain rhythm ; but as to metre, there can