Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres: Lecture XXI — Critical Examination of the Style in No. 412 of the Spectator
The observations which have occurred in reviewing that paper of Mr. Addison’s which was the subject of the last lecture, sufficiently show, that in the writings of an author, of the most happy genius, and distinguished talents, inaccuracies may sometimes be found. Though such inaccuracies may be overbalanced by so many beauties, as render style highly pleasing and agreeable upon the whole, yet it must be desirable to every writer to avoid, as far as he can, inaccuracy of any kind. As the subject, therefore, is of importance, I have thought it might be useful to carry on this criticism throughout two or three subsequent papers of the Spectator. At the same time, I must intimate, that the lectures on these papers are solely intended for such as are applying themselves to the study of English style. I pretend not to give instruction to those who are already well acquainted with the powers of language. To them my remarks may prove unedifying; to some they may seem tedious and minute: but to such as have not yet made all the proficiency which they desire in elegance of style, strict attention to the composition and structure of sentences cannot fail to prove of considerable benefit; and though my remarks on Mr. Addison should, in any instance, be thought ill-founded, they will at least, serve the purpose of leading them into the train of making proper remarks for themselves. I proceed, therefore, to the examination of the subsequent paper, No. 412.
‘I shall first consider those pleasures of the imagination, which arise from the actual views and survey of outward objects: and these, I think, all proceed from the sight of what is great, uncommon, or beautiful.’
This sentence gives occasion for no material remark. It is simple and distinct. The two words which he here uses, view and survey, are not altogether synonymous; as the former may be supposed to import mere inspection; the latter, more deliberate examination. Yet they lie so near to one another in meaning, that, in the present case, any one of them, perhaps, would have been sufficient. The epithet actual, is introduced, in order to mark more strongly the distinction between what our author calls the primary pleasures of imagination, which arise from immediate view, and the secondary, which arise from remembrance or description.
‘There may, indeed, be something so terrible or offensive, that the horror, or loathsomeness of an object, may overbear the pleasure which results from its novelty, greatness, or beauty; but still there will be such a mixture of delight in the very disgust it gives us, as any of these three qualifications are most conspicuous and prevailing.’
This sentence must be acknowledged to be an unfortunate one. The sense is obscure and embarrassed, and the expression loose and irregular. The beginning of it is perplexed by the wrong position of the words something and object. The natural arrangement would have been, there may, indeed, be something in an object so terrible or offensive, that the horror or loathsomeness of it may overbear. These two epithets, horror or loathsomeness, are awkwardly joined together. Loathsomeness, is indeed a quality which may be ascribed to an object; but horror is not; it is a feeling excited in the mind. The language would have been much more correct, had our author said, there may, indeed, be something in an object so terrible or offensive, that the horror or disgust which it excites may overbear. The first two epithets, terrible or offensive, would then have expressed the qualities of an object; the latter, horror or disgust, the corresponding sentiments which these qualities produce in us. Loathsomeness was the most unhappy word he could have chosen: for to be loathsome, is to be odious, and seems totally to exclude any mixture of delight, which he afterwards supposes may be found in the object.
* If there be readers who think any farther apology requisite for my adventuring to criticise the sentences of so eminent an author as Mr. Addison, I must take notice, that I was naturally led to it by the circumstances of that part of the kingdom where these lectures were read; where the ordinary spoken language often differs much from what is used by good English authors. Hence it occurred to me, as a proper method of correcting any peculiarities of dialect, to direct students of eloquence to analyze and examine, with particular attention, the structure of Mr. Addison’s sentences. Those papers of the Spectator, which are the subject of the following lectures, were accordingly given out in exercise to students, to be thus examined and analyzed; and several of the observations which follow, both on the beauties and blemishes of this author, were suggested by the observations given to me in consequence of the exercises prescribed.
In the latter part of the sentence there are several inaccuracies. When he says, there will be such a mixture of delight in the very disgust it gives us, as any of these three qualifications are most conspicuous.’ The construction is defective, and seems hardly grammatical. He meant assuredly to say, such a mixture of delight as is proportioned to the degree in which any of these three qualifications are conspicuous. We know that there may be a mixture of pleasant and of disagreeable feelings excited by the same object; yet it appears inaccurate to say, that there is any delight in the very disgust. The plural verb, are, is improperly joined to any of these three qualifications; for as any is here used distributively, and means any one of these three qualifications, the corresponding verb ought to have been singular. The order in which the two last words are placed, should have been reversed, and made to stand prevailing and conspicuous. They are conspicuous, because they prevail.
‘By greatness, I do not only mean the bulk of any single object, but the largeness of a whole view, considered as one entire piece.’
In a former lecture, when treating of the structure of sentences, I quoted this sentence as an instance of the careless manner in which adverbs are sometimes interjected in the midst of a period. Only, as it is here placed, appears to be a limitation of the following verb, mean. The question might be put, what more does he than only mean? As the author undoubtedly intended it to refer to the bulk of a single object, it would have been placed with more propriety after these words: I do not mean the bulk of any single object only, but the largeness of a whole view. As the following phrase, considered as one entire piece, seems to be somewhat deficient, both in dignity and propriety, perhaps this adjection might have been altogether omitted, and the sentence have closed with fully as much advantage at the word view.
‘Such are the prospects of an open champaign country, a vast uncultivated desert, of huge heaps of mountains, high rocks and precipices, or a wide expanse of waters, where we are not struck with the novelty, or beauty of the sight, but with that rude kind of magnificence which appears in many of these stupendous works of nature.’
This sentence, in the main, is beautiful. The objects presented are all of them noble, selected with judgment, arranged with propriety, and accompanied with proper epithets. We must, however, observe, that the sentence is too loosely, and not very grammatically connected with the preceding one. He says, such are the prospects; such, signifies, of that nature or quality; which necessarily presupposes some adjective, or word descriptive of a quality going before, to which it refers. But, in the foregoing sentence, there is no such adjective. He had spoken of greatness in the abstract only; and therefore, such has no distinct antecedent to which we can refer it. The sentence would have been introduced with more grammatical propriety, by saying, to this class belong, or, under this head are ranged the prospects, &c. The of which is prefixed to huge heap, of mountains, is misplaced, and has, perhaps, been an error in the printing; as either all the particulars here enumerated should have had this mark of the genitive, or it should have been prefixed to none but the first. When, in the close of the sentence, the author speaks of that rude magnificence, which appears in many of these stupendous works of nature, he had better have omitted the word many, which seems to except some of them. Whereas, in his general proposition, he undoubtedly meant to include all the stupendous works he had enumerated; and there is no question that, in all of them, a rude magnificence appears.
‘Our imagination loves to be filled with an object, or to grasp at any thing that is too big for its capacity. We are flung into i pleasing astonishment at such unbounded views; and feel a delightful stillness and amazement in the soul, at the apprehension of them.’
The language here is elegant, and several of the expressions remarkably happy. There is nothing which requires any animadversion except the close, at the apprehension of them. Not only is this a languid, enfeebling conclusion of a sentence, otherwise beautiful, but the apprehension of views, is a phrase destitute of all propriety, and, indeed, scarcely intelligible. Had this adjection been entirely omitted, and the sentence been allowed to close with stillness and amazement in the soul, it would have been a great improvement. Nothing is frequently more hurtful to the grace or vivacity of a period, than superfluous dragging words at the conclusion.
‘The mind of man naturally hates every thing that looks like a restraint upon it, and is apt to fancy itself under a sort of confinement, when the sight is pent up in a narrow compass, and shortened on every side by the neighbourhood of walls or mountains. On the contrary, a spacious horizon is an image of liberty, where the eye has room to range abroad, to expatiate at large on the immensity of its views, and to lose itself amidst the variety of objects that offer themselves to its observation. Such wide and undetermined prospects are pleasing to the fancy, as the speculations, of eternity, or infinitude, are to the understanding.’
Our author’s style appears here in all that native beauty which cannot be too much praised. The numbers flow smoothly, and with a graceful harmony. The words which he has chosen, carry a certain amplitude and fulness, well suited to the nature of the subject; and the members of the periods rise in a gradation accommodated to the rise of the thought. The eye first ranges abroad; then expatiates at large on the immensity of its views; and, at last loses itself amidst the variety of objects that offer themselves to its observation. The fancy is elegantly contrasted with the understanding, prospects with speculations, and wide and undetermined prospects, with speculations of eternity and infinitude.
‘But if there be a beauty or uncommonness joined with this grandeur, as in a troubled ocean, a heaven adorned with stars and meteors, or the spacious landscape cut out into rivers, woods, rocks, and meadows, the pleasure still grows upon us as it arises from more than a single principle.’
The article prefixed to beauty, in the beginning of this sentence might have been omitted, and the style have run, perhaps, to more advantage thus: but if beauty, or uncommonness, be joined to this grandeur — a landscape cut out into rivers, woods, &c. seems unseasonably to imply an artificial formation, and would have been better expressed by, diversified with rivers, woods, &c.
‘Every thing that is new or uncommon, raises a pleasure in the imagination, because it fills the soul with an agreeable surprise, gratifies its curiosity, and gives it an idea of which it was not before possessed. We are, indeed, so often conversant with one set of objects, and tired out with so many repeated shows of the same things, that whatever is new or uncommon contributes a little to vary human life, and to divert our minds, for a while, with the strangeness of its appearance. It serves us for a kind of refreshment, and takes off from that satiety we are apt to complain of in our usual and ordinary entertainments.’
The style in these sentences flows in an easy and agreeable manner. A severe critic might point out some expressions that would bear being retrenched. But this would alter the genius and character of Mr. Addison’s style. We must always remember, that good composition admits of being carried on under many different forms. Style must not be reduced to one precise standard. One writer may be as agreeable, by a pleasing diffuseness, when the subject bears, and his genius prompts it, as another by a concise and forcible manner. It is fit, however, to observe, that in the beginning of those sentences which we have at present before us, the phrase, arises a pleasure in the imagination, is unquestionably too flat and feeble, and might easily be amended, by saying, affords pleasure to the imagination; and towards the end, there are two offs, which grate harshly on the ear, in that phrase, takes off from that satiety we are apt to complain of; where the correction is as easily made as in the other case, by substituting, diminishes that satiety of which we are apt to complain. Such instances show the advantage of frequent reviews of what we have written, in order to give proper correctness and polish to our language.
‘It is this which bestows charms on a monster, and makes even the imperfections of nature please us. It is this that recommends variety, where the mind is every instant called off to something new, and the attention not suffered to dwell too long, and waste itself on any particular object. It is this, likewise, that improves what is great or beautiful, and makes it afford the mind a double entertainment.’
Still the style proceeds with perspicuity, grace, and harmony. The full and ample assertion, with which each of these sentences is introduced, frequent on many occasions with our author, is here proper and seasonable; as it was his intention to magnify, as much as possible, the effects of novelty and variety, and to draw our attention to them. His frequent use of that, instead of which, is another peculiarity of his style; but, on this occasion in particular, cannot be much commended; as, it is this which, seems, in every view, to be better than, it is this that, three times repeated. I must, likewise, take notice, that the antecedent to, it is this, when critically considered, is not altogether proper. It refers, as we discover by the sense, to whatever is new or uncommon. But as it is not good language to say, whatever is new bestows charms on a monster, one cannot avoid thinking that our author had done better to have begun the first of these three sentences, with saying, it is novelty which bestows charms on a monster, &c.
‘Groves, fields, and meadows, are at any season of the year pleasant to look upon; but never so much as in the opening of the spring, when they are all new and fresh, with their first gloss upon them, and not yet too much accustomed and familiar to the eye.’
In this expression, never so much as in the opening of the spring, there appears to be a small error in grammar; for when the construction is filled up, it must be read, never so much pleasant. Had he, to avoid this, said, never so much so, the grammatical error would have been prevented, but the language would have been awkward. Better to have said, but never so agreeable as in the opening of the spring. We readily say, the eye is accustomed to objects, but to say, as our author has done at the close of the sentence, that objects are accustomed to the eye, can scarcely be allowed in a prose composition.
‘For this reason, there is nothing that more enlivens a prospect than rivers, jetteaus, or falls of water, where the scene is perpetually shifting and entertaining the sight, every moment, with something that is new. We are quickly tired with looking at hills and vallies, where every thing continues fixed and settled, in the same place and posture; but find our thoughts a little agitated and relieved at the sight of such objects as are ever in motion, and sliding away from beneath the eye of the beholder.’
The first of these sentences is connected in too loose a manner with that which immediately preceded it. When he says for this reason there is nothing that more enlivens, &c. we are entitled to look for the reason in what he had just before said. But there we find no reason for what he is now going to assert, except that groves and meadows are most pleasant in the spring. We know that he has been speaking of the pleasure produced by novelty and variety, and our minds naturally recur to this, as the reason here alluded to: but his language does not properly express it. It is, indeed, one of the defects of this amiable writer, that his sentences are often too negligently connected with one another. His meaning, upon the whole, we gather with ease from the tenour of his discourse. Yet his negligence prevents his sense from striking us with that force and evidence, which a more accurate juncture of parts would have produced. Bating this inaccuracy, these two sentences, especially the latter, are remarkably elegant and beautiful. The close, in particular, is uncommonly fine, and carries as much expressive harmony as the language can admit. It seems to paint what he is describing, at once to the eye and the ear. Such objects as are ever in motion and sliding away from beneath the eye of the beholder. Indeed, notwithstanding those small errors, which the strictness of critical examination obliges me to point out, it may be safely pronounced, that the two paragraphs which we have now considered in this paper, the one concerning greatness, and the other concerning novelty, are extremely worthy of Mr. Addison, and exhibit a style, which they who can successfully imitate, may esteem themselves happy.
‘But there is nothing that makes its way more directly to the soul than beauty, which immediately diffuses a secret satisfaction and complacency through the imagination, and gives a finishing to any thing that is great or uncommon. The very first discovery of it strikes the mind with an inward joy, and spreads a cheerfulness and delight through all its faculties.’
Some degree of verbosity may be here discovered, as phrases are repeated, which are little more than the echo of one another; such as, diffusing satisfaction and complacency through the imagination —striking the mind with inward joy — spreading cheerfulness and delight through all its faculties. At the same time, I readily admit that this full and flowing style, even though it carry some redundancy, is not unsuitable to the gayety of the subject on which the author is entering, and is more allowable here than it would have been on some other occasions.
‘There is not, perhaps, any real beauty or deformity more in one piece of matter than another; because we might have been so made, that whatever now appears loathsome to us, might have shown itself agreeable; but we find, by experience, that there are several modifications of matter, which the mind, without any previous consideration, pronounces at first sight beautiful or deformed.’
In this sentence there is nothing remarkable, in any view, to draw our attention. We may observe only, that the word more, towards the beginning, is not in its proper place, and that the preposition in, is wanting before another. The phrase ought to have stood thus: Beauty or deformity in one piece of matter, more than in another.
‘Thus we see, that every different species of sensible creatures, has its different notions of beauty, and that each of them is most affected with the beauties of its own kind. This is no where more remarkable, than in birds of the same shape and proportion, when we often see the male determined in his courtship by the single grain or tincture of a feather, and never discovering any charms but in the colour of its species.’
Neither is there here any particular elegance or felicity of language. Different sense of beauty would have been a more proper expression to have been applied to irrational creatures, than as it stands, different notions of beauty. In the close of the second sentence, when the author says, colour of its species, he is guilty of considerable inaccuracy in changing the gender, as he had said in the same sentence, that the male teas determined in his courtship.
‘There is a second kind of beauty, that we find in the several products of art and nature, which does not work in the imagination with that warmth and violence, as the beauty that appears in our proper species, but is apt, however, to raise in us a secret delight, and kind of fondness for the places or objects in which we discover it.’
Still, I am sorry to say, we find little to praise. As in his enunciation of the subject, when beginning the former paragraph, he appeared to have been treating of beauty in general, in distinction from greatness or novelty; this second kind of beauty of which he here speaks, comes upon us in a sort of surprise, and it is only by degrees we learn, that formerly he had no more in view than the beauty which the different species of sensible creatures find in one another. This second kind of beauty, he says, we find in the several products of art and nature. He undoubtedly means not in all, but in several of the products of art and nature, and ought so to have expressed himself; and in the place of products, to have used also the more proper word, productions. When he adds, that this kind of beauty does not work in the imagination with that warmth and violence as the beauty that appears in our proper species; the language would certainly have been more pure and elegant, if he had said, that it does not work upon the imagination with such warmth and violence, as the beauty that appears in our own species.
‘This consists either in the gayety or variety of colours, in the symmetry and proportion of parts, in the arrangement and disposition of bodies, or in a just mixture and concurrence of all together. Among these several kinds of beauty, the eye takes most delight in colours.’
To the language, here, I see no objection that can be made.
‘We no where meet with a more glorious or pleasing show in nature, than what appears in the heavens at the rising and setting of the sun, which is wholly made up of those different stains of light, that show themselves in clouds of a different situation.’
The chief ground of criticism, on this sentence, is the disjointed situation of the relative which; grammatically, it refers to the rising and setting of the sun. But the author meant, that it should refer to the show which appears in the heavens at that time. It is too common among authors, when they are writing without much care, to make such particles as this, and which, refer not to any particular antecedent word, but to the tenour of some phrase, or perhaps the scope of some whole sentence, which has gone before. This practice saves them trouble in marshalling their words, and arranging a period; but, though it may leave their meaning intelligible, yet it renders that meaning much less perspicuous, determined, and precise, than it might otherwise have been. The error I have pointed out, might have been avoided by a small alteration in the construction of the sentence, after some such manner as this: We no where meet with a more glorious and pleasing show in nature, than what is formed in the heavens at the rising and setting of the sun, by the different stains of light which show themselves in clouds of different situations. Our author writes, in clouds of a different situation, by which he means, clouds that differ in situation from each other. But, as this is neither the obvious nor grammatical meaning of his words, it was necessary to change the expression, as I have done, into the plural number.
‘For this reason, we find the poets, who are always addressing themselves to the imagination, borrowing more of their epithets from colours than from any other topic.’
On this sentence nothing occurs, except a remark similar to what was made before, of loose connexion with the sentence which precedes. For though he begins with saying, for this reason, the foregoing sentence, which was employed about the clouds and the sun, gives no reason for the general proposition he now lays down. The reason to which he refers, was given two sentences before, when he observed, that the eye takes more delight in colours than in any other beauty; and it was with that sentence that the present one should have stood immediately connected.
‘As the fancy delights in every thing that is great, strange, or beautiful, and is still more pleased, the more it finds of these perfections in the same object, so it is capable of receiving a new satisfaction by the assistance of another sense.’
Another sense, here means, grammatically, another sense than fancy. For there is no other thing in the period to which this expression, another sense, can at all be opposed. He had not, for some time, made mention of any sense whatever. He forgot to add, what was undoubtedly in his thoughts, another sense than that of sight.
‘Thus any continued sound, as the music of birds, or a fall of water, awakens every moment the mind of the beholder, and makes him more attentive to the several beauties of the place which lie before him. Thus, if there arises a fragrancy of smells or perfumes, they heighten the pleasures of the imagination, and make even the colours and verdure of the landscape appear more agreeable; for the ideas of both senses recommend each other, and are pleasanter together than when they enter the mind separately; as the different colours of a picture, when they are well disposed, set off one another, and receive an additional beauty from the advantage of their situation.’
Whether Mr. Addison’s theory here be just or not, may be questioned. A continued sound, such as that of a fall of water, is so far from awakening every moment the mind of the beholder, that nothing is more likely to lull him asleep. It may, indeed, please the imagination, and heighten the beauties of the scene; but it produces this effect, by a soothing, not by an awakening influence. With regard to the style, nothing appears exceptionable. The flow, both of language and of ideas, is very agreeable. The author continues, to the end, the same pleasing train of thought, which had run through the rest of the paper; and leaves us agreeably employed in comparing together different degrees of beauty.