Lucia. Farewel, my Portius, Farewel, though death is in the word, for-ever ! Portuis. Stay, Lucia, stay; what dost thou say? for-ever ? Lucia. Have I not sworn? If, Portius, thy success Must throw thy brother on his fate, farewel. Oh, how shall I repeat the word, for-ever? Portuis. Thus, o'er the dying lamp th' unsteady flame Hangs quivering on a point, leaps off by fits, And falls again, as loth to quit its hold.* -Thou must not go, my soul still hovers o'er thee, And can't get loose. Cato, Act III. St. 2. Nor doth the simile which closes the first act of the same tragedy make a better appearance; the situation there represented being too dispiriting for a simile. A simile is improper for one who dreads the discovery of a secret machination : Zara. The mute not yet return'd! Ha! 'twas the King, Would, like the raging Dog-star, scorch the earth, Mourning Bride, Act V. Sc. 3. A man spent and dispirited after losing a battle, is not disposed to heighten or illustrate his discourse by similes: York. With this we charg'd again; but out, alas! We bodg'd again; as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide, And spend her strength with over-matching waves. The sands are number'd that make up my life; Third Part, Henry VI. Act I. Sc. 6. Far less is a man disposed to similes who is not only defeated in a pitched battle, but lies at the point of death mortally wounded: This simile would have a fine effect pronounced by the chorus in a Greek tragedy. Warwick. My mangled body shows My blood, my want of strength; my sick heart shows That I must yield my body to the earth, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle; Whose top-branch over-peer'd Jove's spreading tree, Third Part, Henry VI. Act V. Sc. S. Queen Katherine, deserted by the King, and in the deepest affliction on her divorce, could not be disposed to any sallies of imagination: and for that reason, the following simile, however beautiful in the mouth of a spectator, is scarce proper in her own: I am the most unhappy woman living, Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, King Henry VIII Act III. Sc. 1. Similes thus unseasonably introduced, are finely ridiculed in the Rehearsal. Bayes. Now here she must make a simile. Smith. Where's the necessity of that, Mr. Bayes? Bayes. Because she's surpris'd; that's a general rule; you must ever make a simile when you are surprised; 'tis a new way of writing. A comparison is not always faultless even where it is properly introduced. I have endeavoured above to give a general view of the different ends to which a comparison may contribute: a comparison, like other human productions, may fall short of its aim; of which defect instances are not rare even among good writers; and to complete the present subject, it will be necessary to make some observations upon such faulty comparisons. I begin with observing, that nothing can be more erroneous than to institute a comparison too faint: a distant resemblance or contrast fatigues the mind with its obscurity, instead of amusing it: and tends not to fulfil any one end of a comparison. The following similes seem to labour under this defect. Albus ut obscuro deterget nubila cœlo Medio dux agmine Turnus Horat. Carm. l. i. ode 7.^ Vertitur arma tenens, et toto vertice supra est. Eneid, ix. 28. Talibus orabat, talesque miserrima fletus Fata obstant placidasque viri Deus obstruit aures. Eneid, iv. 437. K. Rich. Give me the crown.-Here, Cousin, seize the crown, Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine. Now is this golden crown like a deep well, The emptier ever dancing in the air, The other down, unseen and full of water: Richard II. Act IV. Sc. S. King John. Oh! Cousin, thou art come to set mine eye; The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burnt; And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail, King John, Act V. Sc. 10. York. My uncles both are slain in rescuing me: Third Part, Henry VI. Act I. Sc. 6. The latter of the two similes is good: the former, by its faintness of resemblance, has no effect but to load the narration with an useless image. The next error I shall mention is a capital one. In an epic poem, or in a poem upon any elevated subject, a writer ought to avoid raising a simile on a low image, which never fails to bring down the principal subject. In general, it is a rule, That a grand object ought never to be resembled to one that is diminutive, however delicate the resemblance may be; for it is the peculiar character of a grand object to fix the attention, and swell the mind; in which state, to contract it to a minute object, is unpleasant. The resembling an object to one that is greater, has, on the contrary, a good effect, by raising or swelling the mind: for one passes with satisfaction from a small to a great object; but can-. not be drawn down, without reluctance, from great to small. Hence the following similes are faulty. Meanwhile the troops beneath Patroclus' care, Whet all their stings, and call forth all their rage; X Thus from the tents the fervent legion swarms, Iliad, xvi. 312. So burns the vengeful hornet (soul all o'er) Iliad, xvii. 642. Instant ardentes Tyrii; pars ducere muros, Eneid, i. 427. To describe bees gathering honey as resembling the builders at Carthage, would have a much better effect.*. Tum vero Teucri incumbunt, et littore celsas Migrantes cernas, totaque ex urbe ruentes. And accordingly Demetrius Phalereus (of Elocution, sect. 85. observes, that it has a better effect to compare small things to great than great things to small. |