--had not the Everlasting fix'd His canon 'gainst self-murder. Moreover, he had just been conversing with his father's spirit piping hot from purgatory, which we presume is not within the bourne of this world. The dread of what may happen after death, says he, Makes us rather bear those ills we have, This declaration at least implies some knowledge of the other world, and expressly asserts, that there must be ills in that world, though what kind of ills they are, we do not know. The argument, therefore, may be reduced to this lemma: this world abounds with ills which I feel; the other world abounds with ills, the nature of which I do not know; therefore, I will rather bear those ills I have, than fly to others which I know not of:" a deduction amounting to a certainty, with respect to the only circumstance that could create a doubt, namely, whether in death he should rest from his misery; and if he was certain there were evils in the next world, as well as in this, he had no room to reason at all about the matter. What alone could justify his thinking on this subject, would have been the hope of flying from the ills of this world, without encountering any others in the next. 66 most insupportable in this life. I know not what is in the next, because it is an undiscovered country: ergo, I'd rather bear those ills I have, than fly to others which I know not of." Here the conclusion is by no means warranted by the premises. "I am sore afflicted in this life; but I will rather bear the afflictions of this life, than plunge myself into the afflictions of another life: ergo, conscience makes cowards of us all." But this conclusion would justify the logician in saying, negatur consequens; for it is entirely detached both from the major and minor proposition. This soliloquy is not less exceptionable in the propriety of expression, than in the chain of argumentation. "To die-to sleep-no more," contains an ambiguity, which all the art of punctuation cannot remove; for it may signify that "to die is to sleep no more; or the expression "no more," may be considered as an abrupt apostrophe in thinking, as if he meant to say "no more of that reflection." "Ay, there's the rub," is a vulgarism beneath the dignity of Hamlet's character, and the words that follow leave the sense imperfect : For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, Not the dreams that might come, but the fear Nor is Hamlet more accurate in the follow- of what dreams might come, occasioned the ing reflection : Thus conscience does make cowards of us all. A bad conscience will make us cowards; but a good conscience will make us brave. It does not appear that any thing lay heavy on his conscience; and from the premises we cannot help inferring, that conscience in this case was entirely out of the question. Hamlet was deterred from suicide by a full conviction, that in flying from one sea of troubles which he did know, he should fall into another which he did not know. His whole chain of reasoning, therefore, seems inconsistent and incongruous. "I am doubtful whether I should live, or do violence upon my own life: for I know not whether it is more honourable to bear misfortune patiently, than to exert myself in opposing misfortune, and by opposing, end it." Let us throw it into the form of a syllogism, it will stand thus: "I am oppressed with ills; I know not whether it is more honourable to bear those ills patiently, or to end them by taking arms against them: ergo, I am doubtful whether I should slay myself or live. To die is no more than to sleep; and to say that by a sleep we end the heart-ache," &c. "'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd." Now to say it, was of no consequence unless it had been true. "I am afraid of the dreams that may happen in that sleep of death; and I choose rather to bear those ills I have in this life, than to fly to other ills in that undiscovered country, from whose bourne no traveller ever returns. I have ills that are al pause or hesitation. Respect in the same line may be allowed to pass for consideration: but The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, according to the invariable acceptation of the words wrong and contumely, can signify nothing but the wrongs sustained by the oppressor, and the contumely or abuse thrown upon the proud man; though it is plain that Shakspeare used them in a different sense: neither is the word spurn a substantive, yet as such be has inserted it in these lines: The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th' unworthy takes. If we consider the metaphors of the soliloquy, we shall find them jumbled together in a strange confusion. If the metaphors were reduced to painting, we should find it a very difficult task, if not altogether impracticable, to represent with any propriety outrageous fortune using her slings and arrows, between which indeed there is no sort of analogy in nature. Neither can any figure be more ridiculously absurd, than that of a man taking arms against a sea, exclusive of the incongruous medley of slings, arrows, and seas, justled within the compass of one reflection. What follows is a strange rhapsody of broken images of sleeping, dreaming, and shifting off a coil, which last conveys no idea that can be represented on canvass. A man may be exhibited shuffling off his garments, or his chains; but how he should shuffle off a coil, which is another term for noise and tumult, we Virgil, in his sixth Eclogue, says, "Omnia quæ, Phœbo quondam meditante, beatus cannot comprehend. Then we have "long-figure, and hath justly been condemned by some lived calamity," and "time armed with whips accurate critics; but we think they are too and scorns ;" and "patient merit spurned at by severe in extending the same censure to some unworthiness ;" and "misery with a bare bod- other passages in the most admired authors. kin going to make his own quietus;" which at best is but a mean metaphor. These are followed by figures "sweating under fardels of burdens," puzzled with doubts," "shaking with fears," and "flying from evils." Finally, we see "resolution sicklied o'er with pale thought," a conception like that of representing health by sickness; and a "current of pith turned awry so as to lose the name of action," which is both an error in fancy, and a solecism in sense. In a word, this soliloquy may be And Pope has copied the conceit in his Pascompared to the Egri somnia, and the Tabula, cujus vana fingentur species. But while we censure the chaos of broken, incongruous metaphors, we ought also to caution the young poet against the opposite extreme of pursuing a metaphor, until the spirit is quite exhausted in a succession of cold con ceits; such as we see in the following letter, said to be sent by Tamerlane to the Turkish Emperor Bajazet. "Where is the monarch that dares oppose our arms? Where is the potentate who doth not glory in being numbered among our vassals? As for thee, descended from a Turcoman mariner, since the vessel of thy unbounded ambition hath been wrecked in the gulf of thy self-love, it would be proper that thou shouldest furl the sails of thy temerity, and cast the anchor of repentance in the port of sincerity and justice, which is the harbour of safety; lest the tempest of our vengeance make thee perish in the sea of that punishment thou hast deserved." But if these laboured conceits are ridiculous in poetry, they are still more inexcusable in prose: such as we find them frequently occur in Strada's Bellum Belgicum. "Vix descenderat a prætoria navi Cæsar; cum foeda ilico exorta in portu tempestas; classem impetu disjecit, prætoriam hausit; quasi non vecturam amplius Cæsarem Cæsarisque fortunam." "Cæsar had scarcely set his feet on shore, when a terrible tempest arising, shattered the fleet even in the harbour, and sent to the bottom the prætorian ship, as if he resolved it should no longer carry Cæsar and his fortunes." Yet this is modest in comparison of the following flowers: "Alii, pulsis e tormento catenis discerpti sectique, dimidiato corpore pugnabant sibi superstitas, ac peremptæ partis ultores." "Others, dissevered and cut in twain by chain-shot, fought with one-half of their bodies that remained, in revenge of the other half that was slain." Homer, Horace, and even the chaste Virgil, is not free from conceits. The latter, speaking of a man's hand cut off in battle, says, "Te decisa suum, Laride, dextera quærit : Semianimesque micant digiti, ferrumque retractant." thus enduing the amputated hand with sense and volition. This, to be sure, is a violent Whate'er, when Phœbus bless'd the Arcadian plain, torals, Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along, Vida thus begins his first Eclogue, And indeed more correct writers, both ancient and modern, abound with the same kind of figure, which is reconciled to propriety, and even invested with beauty, by the efficacy of the prosopopoeia, which personifies the object. Thus, when Virgil says Enipeus heard the songs of Apollo, he raises up, as by enchantment, the idea of a river god crowned with sedges, his head raised above the stream, and in his countenance the expression of pleased attention. By the same magic we see in the couplet quoted from Pope's Pastorals, old father Thames leaning upon his urn, and listening to the poet's strain. Thus in the regions of poetry, all nature, even the passions and affections of the mind, may be personified into picturesque figures for the entertainment of the reader. Ocean smiles | blance obtained in one circumstance, they minded not whether they disagreed with the subject in every other respect. Many instances of this defect in congruity may be culled from the most sublime parts of Scripture, or frowns, as the sea is calm or tempestuous; O vale of bliss! O softly swelling hills! Homer has been blamed for the bad choice of his similes on some particular occasions. He compares Ajax to an ass in the Iliad, and Ulysses to a steak broiling on the coals in the Odyssey. His admirers have endeavoured to excuse him, by reminding us of the simplicity of the age in which he wrote; but they have We cannot conceive a more beautiful image not been able to prove that any ideas of dignity than that of the genius of agriculture distin- or importance were, even in those days, affixed guished by the implements of his art, imbrown- to the character of an ass, or the quality of a ed with labour, glowing with health, crowned beef-collop; therefore they were very improper with a garland of foliage, flowers, and fruit, ly-illustrations for any situation, in which a hero ing stretched at his ease on the brow of a ought to be represented. gentle swelling hill, and contemplating with pleasure the happy effects of his own industry. Neither can we join issue against Shakspeare for this comparison, which hath likewise incurred the censure of the critics: -The noble sister of Poplicola, This is more than illustrating a quality of the mind, by comparing it with a sensible object. If there is no impropriety in saying such a man. is true as steel, firm as a rock, inflexible as an oak, unsteady as the ocean; or in describing a disposition cold as ice, or fickle as the wind; and these expressions are justified by constant practice; we shall hazard an assertion, that the comparison of a chaste woman to an icicle is proper and picturesque, as it obtains only in the circumstances of cold and purity; but that the addition of its being curdled from the purest snow, and hanging on the temple of Diana, the patroness of virginity, heightens the whole into a most beautiful simile, that gives a very respectable and amiable idea of the character in question. The simile is no more than an extended metaphor, introduced to illustrate and beautify the subject; it ought to be apt, striking, properly pursued, and adorned with all the graces of poetical melody. But a simile of this kind ought never to proceed from the mouth of a person under any great agitation of spirit; such as a tragic character overwhelmed with grief, distracted by contending cares, or agonizing in the pangs of death. The language of passion will not admit simile, which is always the result of study and deliberation. We will not allow a hero the privilege of a dying swan, which is said to chaunt its approaching fate in the most melodious strain; and therefore nothing can be more ridiculously unnatural, than the representation of a lover dying upon the stage with a laboured simile in his mouth. The orientals, whose language was extremely figurative, bave been very careless in the choice of their similes; provided the resem Virgil has degraded the wife of king Latinus, by comparing her, when she was actuated by the Fury, to a top which the boys lash for diversion. This doubtless is a low image, though in other respects the comparison is not destitute of propriety: but he is much more justly censured for the following simile, which bas no sort of reference to the subject. Speaking of Turnus, he says, -"medio dux agmine Turnus Vertitur arma tenens, et toto vertice supra est, But Turnus, chief amidst the warrior train, When from the fields o'erflow'd his vagrant streams return. These no doubt are majestic images; but they bear no sort of resemblance to a hero glittering in armour at the head of his forces. Horace has been ridiculed by some shrewd critics for this comparison, which however we think is more defensible than the former. Addressing himself to Manutius Plancus, he says: "Albus ut obscuro deterget nubila cœlo As Notus often when the welkin lowers, The analogy, it must be confessed, is not very striking; but nevertheless it is not altogether void of propriety. The poet reasons thus: as the south wind, though generally attended with rain, is often known to dispel the clouds, and render the weather serene; so do you, though generally on the rack of thought, remember to relax sometimes and drown your cares in wine. ESSAYS. As the south wind is not alway moist, so you ought not always to be dry. A few instances of inaccuracy, or mediocrity, can never derogate from the superlative merit of Homer and Virgil, whose poems are the great magazines, replete with every species of beauty and magnificence, particularly abounding with similes, which astonish, delight, and transport the reader. Every simile ought not only to be well adapted to the subject, but also to include every excellence of description, and to be coloured with the warmest tints of poetry. Nothing can be more happily hit off than the following in the Georgics, to which the poet compares Orpheus lamenting his lost Eurydice. Qualis populea mærens Philomela sub umbra So Philomela, from th' umbrageous wood, Here we not only find the most scrupulous propriety, and the happiest choice, in comparing the Thracian bard to Philomela the poet of the grove; but also the most beautiful description, containing a fine touch of the pathos, in which last particular indeed Virgil, in our opinion, excels all other poets, whether ancient or modern. One would imagine that nature had exhausted itself in order to embellish the poems of Homer, Virgil, and Milton, with similes and metaphors. The first of these very often uses the comparison of the wind, the whirlwind, the hail, the torrent, to express the rapidity of bis combatants; but when he comes to describe the velocity of the immortal horses that drew the chariot of Juno, he raises his ideas to the subject, and, as Longinus observes, measures every leap by the whole breadth of the horizon. Homer's best similes have been copied by Virgil, and almost every succeeding poet, howsoever they may be varied in the manner of 463 expression. In the third book of the Iliad, Ωσε λέων ἐχάρη μεγάλῳ ἐπὶ σώματι κύρσας So joys the lion, if a branching deer The Mantuan bard, in the tenth book of the Eneid, applies the same simile to Mezentius, when he beholds Acron in the battle. Impastus stabula alta leo cen sæpe peragrans Of all the figures in poetry, that called the hyperbole is managed with the greatest difficulty. The hyperbole is an exaggeration with which the muse is indulged for the better illustration of her subject, when she is warmed into enthusiasm. Quintilian calls it an ornament of the bolder kind. Demetrius Phalereus is still more severe. He says the hyperbole is of all forms of speech the most frigid: Μαλιστα δὲ ἡ Ὑπερβολή ψυχρότατον παντων ; but this must be unsome grains of allowance. derstood with Passion itself is a magPoetry is animated by the passions; and all the passions exaggerate. nifying medium. There are beautiful instances of the hyperbole in the Scripture, which a reader of sensibility cannot read without being The difficulty lies in choosstrongly affected. ing such hyperboles as the subject will admit of: for, according to the definition of Theo phrastus, the frigid in style is that which ex- Il'a vel intactæ segetis per summa volaret This elegant author, we are afraid, has upon some other occasions degenerated into the frigid, in straining to improve upon his great master. strike the reader's imagination; but they generally serve as marks of the author's sinking under his own ideas, who, apprehensive of injuring the greatness of his own conception, is hurried into excess and extravagance. Quintilian allows the use of hyperbole, when words are wanting to express any thing in its just strength or due energy; then, he says, it is better to exceed in expression than fall short of the conception; but he likewise observes, that there is no figure or form of speech so apt to run into fustian. Nec alia magis via in κακοζηλίαν itur. If the chaste Virgil has thus trespassed upon poetical probability, what can we expect from Lucan but hyperboles even more ridiculously extravagant ? He represents the winds in contest, the sea in suspense, doubting to which it shall give way. He affirms, that its motion would have been so violent as to produce a second deluge, had not Jupiter kept it under by the clouds; and as to the ship during this dreadful uproar, "the sails touch the clouds, while the keel strikes the ground." Nubila tanguntur velis, et terra carina. This image of dashing water at the stars, Sir truly ridiculous. Describing spouting whales Richard Blackmore has produced in colours in his Prince Arthur, he makes the following comparison: Like some prodigions water engine made The great fault in all these instances is a deviation from propriety, owing to the erroneous judgment of the writer, who, endeavouring to captivate the admiration with novelty, very often shocks the understanding with extravagance. Of this nature is the whole description of the Cyclops, both in the Odyssey of Homer, and in the Eneid of Virgil. It must be owned, however, that the Latin poet, with all his merit, is more apt, than his great original, to dazzle us with false fire, and practise upon the imagination with gay conceits, that will not bear the critic's examination. There is not in any of Homer's works now subsisting such an example of the false sublime, as Virgil's description of the thunderbolts forging under the hammers of the Cyclops. Tres imbris torti radios, tres nubis aquosa This is altogether a fantastic piece of affectation, of which we can form no sensible image, and serves to chill the fancy, rather than warm the admiration of a judging reader. Extravagant hyperbole is a weed that grows |