compositions, these may do in poetry; because, in writing, the allegory can easily be distinguished from the historical part: no person, for example, mistakes Virgil's Fame for a real being. But such a mixture in a picture is intolerable; because in a picture the objects must appear all of the same kind, wholly real or wholly emblematical. For this reason, the history of Mary de Medicis, in the palace of Luxembourg, painted by Rubens, is unpleasant by a perpetual jumble of real and allegorical personages, which produce a discordance of parts, and an obscurity upon the whole: witness in particular, the tablature representing the arrival of Mary de Medicis at Marseilles: where, together with the real personages, the Nereids and Tritons appear sounding their shells: such a mixture of fiction and reality in the same group, is strangely absurd. The picture of Alexander and Roxana, described by Lucian, is gay and fanciful; but it suffers by the allegorical figures. It is not in the wit of man to invent an allegorical representation deviating farther from any shadow of resemblance, than one exhibited by Lewis XIV. anno 1664; in which an enormous chariot, intended to represent that of the sun, is dragged along, surrounded with men and women, representing the four ages of the world, the celestial signs, the seasons, the hours, &c. a monstrous composition, suggested probably by Guido's tablature of Aurora, and still more absurd.

In an allegory as well as in a metaphor, terms ought to be chosen that properly and literally are applicable to the representative subject: nor ought any circumstance to be added that is not proper to the representative subject, however justly it may be applicable properly or figuratively to the principal. The following allegory is therefore faulty:

Ferus et Cupido,

Semper ardentes acuens sagittas

Cote cruentu.

Horat. I. ii. ode 8.

For though blood may suggest the cruelty of love, it is an improper or immaterial circumstance in the representative subject: water, not blood, is proper for a whetstone.

We proceed to the next head, which is, to examine in what circumstance these figures are proper, in what improper. This inquiry is not altogether superseded by what is said upon the same subject in the chapter of Comparisons; because upon trial it will be found, that a short metaphor or allegory may be proper, where a simile, drawn out to a greater length, and in its nature more solemn, would scarce be relished.

And first, a metaphor, like a simile, is excluded from common conversation, and from the description of ordinary incidents.

Second, in expressing any severe passion that wholly occupies the mind, metaphor is improper, For which reason the following speech of Macbeth is faulty.

Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more!
Macbeth doth murder sleep; the innocent sleep;
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of Care,
The birth of each day's life, sore Labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in Life's feast.-

Act II. Sc. 3.

The following example, of deep despair, beside the highly figurative style, hath more the air of raving than of sense:

Calista. Is it the voice of thunder, or my father?
Madness! Confusion! let the storm come on,

Let the tumultuous roar drive all upon me,
Dash my devoted bark; ye surges, break it;
"Tis for my ruin that the tempest rises.
When I am lost, sunk to the bottom low,
Peace shall return, and all be calm again.

Fair Penitent, Act IV.

The metaphor I next introduce, is sweet and lively, but it suits not a fiery temper inflamed with passion: parables are not the language of wrath venting itself without restraint.

Chamont. You took her up a little tender flower,
Just sprouted on a bank, which the next frost
Had nipp'd; and with a careful loving hand,
Transplanted her into your own fair garden,

Where the sun always shines: there long she flourish'd,
Grew sweet to sense and lovely to the eye,
Till at the last a cruel spoiler came,

Cropt this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,
Then cast it like a loathsome weed àway.

Orphan, Act IV.

The following speech, full of imagery, is not natural in grief and dejection of mind:

Gonsalez. O my son! from the blind dotage Of a father's fondness these ills arose. For thee I've been ambitious, base and bloody; For thee I've plung'd into the sea of sin; Stemming the tide with only one weak hand, While t'other bore the crown (to wreathe thy brow,) Whose weight has sunk me e'er I reach'd the shore. Mourning Bride, Act V. Sc. 6.

*

There is an enchanting picture of deep distress in Macbeth, where Macduff is represented lamenting his wife and children, inhumanly murdered by the tyrant. Stung to the heart with the news, he questions the messenger over and over: not that he doubted the fact, but that his heart revolted against so cruel a misfortune. After struggling

* Act IV. Sc. 6.

some time with his grief, he turns from his wife and children to their savage butcher; and then gives vent to his resentment, but still with manliness and dignity:

O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,

And braggart with my tongue. But, gentle Heav'n!
Cut short all intermission; front to front

Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
Within my sword's length set him.—If he 'scape,
Then Heav'n forgive him too.

The whole scene is a delicious picture of human nature. One expression only seems doubtful; in examining the messenger, Macduff expresses him

self thus:

He hath no children-all my pretty ones!

Did you say all? what, all? Oh, hell-kite, all?

What! all my pretty little chickens and their dam,
At one fell swoop!

Metaphorical expression, I am sensible, may sometimes be used with grace, where a regular simile would be intolerable: but there are situations so severe and dispiriting, as not to admit even the slightest metaphor. It requires great delicacy of taste to determine with firmness, whether the present case be of that kind: I incline to think it is ; and yet I would not willingly alter a single word of this admirable scene.

But metaphorical language is proper when a man struggles to bear with dignity or decency a misfortune however great: the struggle agitates and animates the mind:

Wolsey. Farewel, a long farewel, to all my greatness !
This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;

The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,

And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls as I do.

Henry VIII. Act III. Sc. 6.

SECTION VI.

Figure of Speech.

In the section immediately foregoing, a figure of speech is defined, "The using a word in a sense "different from what is proper to it ;" and the new or uncommon sense of the word is termed the figurative sense. The figurative sense must have a relation to that which is proper; and the more intimate the relation is, the figure is the more happy. How ornamental this figure is to language, will not be readily imagined by any one who hath not given peculiar attention; and therefore I shall endeavour to unfold its capital beauties and advantages. In the first place, a word used figuratively or in a new sense, suggests at the same time the sense it commonly bears; and thus it has the effect to present two objects: one signified by the figurative sense, which may be termed, the principal object; and one signified by the proper sense, which may be termed accessory; the principal makes a part of the thought: the accessory is merely ornamental. In this respect, a figure of speech is precisely similar to concordant sounds in music, which without contributing to the melody, makes it harmonious. I explain myself by examples. Youth, by a figure of speech, is termed the morning of life.This expression signifies youth, the principal object, which enters into the thought; it suggests, at the same time, the proper sense of morning; and this accessory object, being in itself beautiful, and