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Analysis. What a strange subversion, or inversion, if you will, of all the most obvious and hitherto undisputed truths! Not satisfied with affirming the unseemliness of every production of Nature, whom this philosopher has discovered to be an arrant bungler, and the immense superiority of human art, whose humble scholar dame Nature might be proud to be accounted, he rises to asseverations, which shock all our notions, and utterly defy the powers of apprehension. Painting is found to be the original; or rather Rubens' pictures are the original, and nature is the copy; and indeed, very consequentially, the former is represented as the standard by which the beauty and perfections of the latter are to be estimated. Nor do the qualifying phrases, "If I may say so," and "in this sense it may be asserted," make here the smallest odds. For as this sublime critic has no where hinted what sense it is which he denominates "this sense," no reader will be able to conjecture, what the author might have said, and not absurdly said to the same effect. When the expression is stripped of the absurd meaning, (Art. 204.) there remains nothing but balderdash, an unmeaning jumble of words, which at first seem to announce some great discovery.

Example 2. Witness, as another specimen of the same kind, the famous prostration of an heroic lover, in one of Dryden's plays;

"My wound is great, because it is so small."

Analysis. The nonsense of this was properly exposed, by an extempore verse of the Duke of Buckingham, who, on hearing this line, ex claimed, in the house,

It would be greater, were it none at all.

Conclusion. Thus have we illustrated, as far as example can illustrate, some of the principal varieties to be remarked in unmeaning sentences or nonsense; the puerile, the learned, the profound, and the marvellous; together with those other classes of the unintelligible, arising either from confusion of thought, accompanied with intricacy of expression, or from an excessive aim at excellence in the style and

manner.

CHAPTER IX.

OF THE HARMONY OF PERIODS.

211. IN the HARMONY OF PERIODS, two things may be considered. First, agreeable sound, or modulation in general, without any particular expression: next, the sound so ordered, as to become expressive of the sense. The first is the more common; the second the higher beauty.

est une admirable industrée que fait paroitre les objects peints plus véritables, s'il faut ainsi dire, que les véritables mêmes. C'est ainsi que les tableaux de Rubens sont plus beaux que la Nature, la quelle semble n'être que la copie des ouvrages de ce grand homme." Receuil de divers ouvrage sur la peinture et le coloris. Par M. de Piles Paris, 1775. p. 225.

Obs. Agreeable sound, in general, is the property of a well constructed sentence. This beauty of musical construction in prose depends upon two things; the choice of words, and the arrangement of them.

212. Those words are most agreeable to the ear which are composed of smooth and liquid sounds, where there is a proper intermixture of vowels and consonants; without too many harsh consonants grating upon each other; or too many open vowels in succession, to cause a hiatus, or disagreeable aperture of the mouth. (Illus. Art. 13.)

Illus. It may always be assumed as a principle, that, whatever sounds are difficult in pronunciation, are, in the same proportion, harsh and painful to the ear. Vowels give softness; consonants, strength to the sounds of words. The music of language requires a just proportion of both; and it will be hurt, and rendered either grating or effeminate, by an excess of either. Long words are commonly more agreeable to the ear than monosyllables. They please it by the composition or succession of sounds, which they present to it; and, accordingly, the most musical languages abound most in polysyllables. Among words of any length, those are the most musical, which do not run wholly either upon long or short syllables, but are composed of an intermixture of them; such as, repent, produce, velocity, celerity, independent, impetuosity.

213. The harmony which results from a proper arrangement of the words and members of a period, is complex, and of great nicety. For let the words themselves be ever so well chosen, let them sound ever so well, yet, if they be ill disposed, the music of the sentence is utterly lost. (Scholium, p. 86. Art. 138.)

Illus. 1. In the harmonious structure and disposition of periods, no writer whatever, ancient or modern, equals Cicero. He had studied this with care; and was fond, perhaps to excess, of what he calls the "plena ac numerosa oratio." We need only open his writings to find instances that will render the effect of musical language sensible to every ear.

2. As an instance of a musical sentence in our own language, we may take the following from Milton's Treatise on Education: "We shall conduct you to a hill-side, laborious, indeed, at the first ascent; but else, so smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospects, and melodious sounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming."

Analysis. Every thing in this sentence conspires to promote the harmony. The words are happily chosen; full of liquids and soft sounds; laborious, smooth, green, goodly, melodious, charming: and these words so artfully arranged, that were we to alter the collocation of any one of them, we should, presently, be sensible of the melody's suffering. For, let us observe, how finely the members of the period swell one above another. "So smooth, so green," so full of goodly prospects, and melodious sounds on every side;"-till the ear, prepared by this gradual rise, is conducted to that full close on which it rests with pleasure;" that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming."

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214. The structure of periods, then, being susceptible of a very sensible melody, our next inquiry should be, how this melodious structure is formed, what are the principles of it, and by what laws is it regulated? (Art. 138. Illus.)

Obs. The ancient rhetoricians have entered into a very minute and particular detail of this subject; more particular, indeed, than into any other that regards language.

Illus. They hold, that to prose, as well as to verse, there belong certain numbers, less strict indeed, yet such as can be ascertained by rule. They go so far as to specify the feet, as they are called, that is, the succession of long and short syllables, which should enter into the different members of a sentence, and to shew what the effect of each of these will be. Wherever they treat of the structure of sentences, it is always the music of them that makes the principal object. Cicero and Quinctilian are full of this. The other qualities of precision, unity, and strength, which we consider as of great importance, they handle slightly; but when they come to the "junctura et numerus," the modulation and harmony, there they are copious. Dyonisius of Halicarnassus, one of the most judicious critics of antiquity, wrote a treatise on the Composition of Words in a Sentence, which is altogether confined to their musical effect. He makes the excellency of a sentence to consist in four things; first, in the sweetness of single sounds; secondly, in the composition of sounds; that is, the numbers, or feet; thirdly, in change, or variety of sound; and, fourthly, in sound suited to the sense. On all these points, he writes with great accuracy and refinement, and is very worthy of being consulted.

2. The ancient languages of Greece and Rome, were much more susceptible, than our language is, of the graces and the powers of melody. The quantities of their syllables were more fixed and determined; their words were longer and more sonorous; their method of varying the terminations of nouns and verbs, both introduced a greater variety of liquid sounds, and freed them from that multiplicity of little auxiliary words which we are obliged to employ; and, what is of the greatest consequence, the inversions which their languages allowed, gave them the power of placing their words in whatever order was most suited to a musical arrangement. All these were great advantages, which they enjoyed above us, for harmony of period.

215. The doctrine of the Greek and Roman critics, on this head, has misled some to imagine, that it might be equally applied to our tongue; and that our prose writing might be regulated by spondees and trochees, and iambuses and pæons, and other metrical feet.

Obs. 1. But, first, our words cannot be measured, or, at least, can be measured very imperfectly by any feet of this kind. For the quantity, the length and shortness of our syllables, is far from being so fixed and subjected to rule, as in the Greek and Roman tongues; but very often left arbitrary, and determined only by the emphasis and the

sense.

2. Next, though our prose could admit of such a metrical regulation, yet, from our plainer method of pronouncing every species of discourse, the effect would not be at all so sensible to the ear, nor be relished with so much pleasure, as among the Greeks and Romans.

3. And, lastly, this whole doctrine about the measures and numbers of prose, even as it has been delivered by the ancient rhetoricians themselves, is, in truth, in a great measure, loose and uncertain. It appears, indeed, that the melody of discourse was a matter of infinitely more attention to them, than ever it has been to the moderns. But though they write a great deal about it, they have never been able to reduce it to any rules which could be of real use in practice.

Illus. If we consult Cicero's Orator, where this point is discussed with the most minuteness, we shall see how much these ancient critics differed from one another, about the feet proper for the conclusion, and other parts of a sentence; and how much, after all, was left to the judgment of the ear. Nor, indeed, is it possible to give precise rules concerning this matter, in any language; as all prose composition must be allowed to run loose in its numbers; and, according as the tenor of a discourse varies, the modulation of sentences must vary infinitely.

216. But though this musical arrangement cannot be reduced into a system, every one who studies to write with grace, or to pronounce in public with success, will find himself obliged to attend to it not a little. But it is his ear, cultivated by attention and practice, that must chiefly direct him. For any rules that can be given on this subject, are very general. There are some rules, however, which may be of use to form the ear to the proper harmony of discourse, 217. There are two things on which the music of a sentence chiefly depends. These are, the proper distribution of the several members of the sentence; and the close or cadence of the whole. (Art. 134.)

ear.

218. First, the distribution of the several members. It is of importance to observe, that whatever is easy and agreeable to the organs of speech, always sounds grateful to the While a period is going on, the termination of each of its members forms a pause, or rest, in pronouncing: and these rests should be so distributed, as to make the course of the breathing easy, and, at the same time, should fall at such distances, as to bear a certain musical proportion to each other. (Art. 144.)

Example 1. "This discourse concerning the easiness of God's commands, does, all along, suppose and acknowledge the difficulties of the first entrance upon a religious course; except only in those persons who have had the happiness to be trained up to religion by the easy and insensible degrees of a pious and virtuous education."*

Analysis. Here there is no harmony; nay, there is some degree of harshness and unpleasantness; owing principally to this, that there is, properly, no more than one pause or rest in the sentence, falling betwixt the two members into which it is divided; each of which is so long, as to occasion a considerable stretch of the breath in pronouncing it.

* Tillotson

Example 2. Observe, now, on the other hand, the ease with which the following sentence, from Sir William Temple, glides along, and the graceful intervals at which the pauses are placed. He is speaking sarcastically of man : "But, God be thanked, his pride is greater than his ignorance, and what he wants in knowledge, he supplies by sufficiency. When he has looked about him, as far as he can, he concludes, there is no more to be seen; when he is at the end of his line, he is at the bottom of the ocean; when he has shot his best, he is sure none ever did, or even can, shoot better or beyond it. His own reason he holds to be the certain measure of truth; and his own knowledge, of what is possible in nature."*

Analysis. Here every thing is, at once, easy to the breath, and grateful to the ear; and it is this sort of flowing measure, this regular and proportional division of the members of his sentences, which renders Sir William Temple's style always agreeable. We must observe, at the same time, that a sentence, with too many rests, and these placed at intervals too apparently measured and regular, is apt to savor of affectation.

219. The next thing to be attended to, is the close or cadence of the whole sentence, which, as it is always the part most sensible to the ear, demands the greatest care. 66 'Let there be nothing harsh or abrupt in the conclusion of the sentence, on which the mind pauses and rests. This is the most material part in the structure of discourse. Here every hearer expects to be gratified; here his applause breaks forth."+

220. The only important rule that can be given here, is, that when we aim at dignity or elevation, the sound should be made to grow to the last; the longest members of the period, and the fullest and most sonorous words, should be reserved to the conclusion.

Example. "It fills the mind (i. e. sight) with the largest variety of ideas; converses with its objects at the greatest distance; and continues the longest in action, without being tired or satiated with its proper enjoyments."

Analysis. Every reader must be sensible of a beauty here, both in the proper division of the members and pauses, and the manner in which the sentence is rounded, and conducted to a full and harmonious close. The sight fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas, and

*Or this instance. He is addressing himself to Lady Essex, upon the death of her child: "I was once in hope, that what was so violent could not be long: but, when I observed your grief to grow stronger with age, and to increase, like a stream, the farther it ran; when I saw it draw out to such unhappy consequences, and to threaten, no less than your child, your health and your life, I could no longer forbear this endeavour, nor end it without begging of you, for God's sake and for your own for your children and your friends, your country and your family, that you would no longer abandon yourself to a disconsolate passion; but that you would, at length, awaken your piety, give way to your prudence, or, at least, rouse the invincible spirit of the Percys, that never yet shrunk at any disaster."

"Non igitur durum sit, neque abruptum, quo animi, velut, respirant ac reficiuntur. Hæc est sedes orationis; hoc auditor expectat; hic laus omnis declamat." Quinctilian.

Addison.

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