Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres: Lecture XXII — Critical Examination of the Style in No. 413 of the Spectator
‘Though in yesterday’s paper we considered how every thing
that is great, new, or beautiful, is apt to affect the imagination with pleasure, we must own, that it is impossible for us to assign the necessary cause of this pleasure, because we know neither the nature of an idea, nor the substance of a human soul, which might help us to discover the conformity or disagreeableness of the one to the other; and therefore, for want of such a light, all that we can do in speculations of this kind, is, to reflect on those operations of the soul that are most agreeable, and to range, under their proper heads, what is pleasing or displeasing to the mind, without being able to trace out the several necessary and efficient causes from whence the pleasure or displeasure arises.’
This sentence, considered as an introductory one, must be acknowledged to be very faulty. An introductory sentence should never contain any thing that can in any degree fatigue or puzzle the reader. When an author is entering on a new branch of his subject, informing us of what he has done, and what he proposes further to do, we naturally expect, that he should express himself in the simplest and most perspicuous manner possible. But the sentence now before us is crowded and indistinct: containing three separate propositions, which, as I shall afterwards show, required separate sentences to have unfolded them. Mr. Addison’s chief excellence as a writer, lay in describing and painting. There he is great; but in methodising and reasoning, he is not so eminent. As, besides the general fault of prolixity and indistinctness, this sentence contains several inaccuracies, I shall be obliged to enter into a minute discussion of its structure and parts; a discussion which to many readers will appear tedious, and which therefore they will naturally pass over; but which, to those who are studying composition, I hope may prove of some benefit.
Though in yesterday’s paper we considered. The import of though is, notwithstanding that. When it appears in the beginning of a sentence, its relative, generally, is yet; and it is employed to warn us, after we have been informed of some truth, that we are not to infer from it some other thing which we might perhaps have expected to follow: as, ‘Though virtue be the only road to happiness, yet it does not permit the unlimited gratification of our desires.’ Now it is plain, that there was no such opposition between the subject of yesterday’s paper, and what the author is now going to say, between his asserting a fact, and his not being able to assign the cause of that fact, as rendered the use of this adversative particle, though, either necessary or proper in the introduction. We considered how every thing that is great, new, or beautiful, is apt to affect the imagination with pleasure. The adverb how signifies, either the means by which, or the manner in which, something is done. But in truth, neither one nor the other of these had been considered by our author. He had illustrated the fact alone, that they do affect the imagination with pleasure; and, with respect to the quomodo or the how, he is so far from having considered it, that he is just now going to show that it cannot be explained, and that we must rest contented with the knowledge of the fact alone, and of its purpose or final cause. We must own, that it is impossible for us to assign the necessary cause (he means, what is more commonly called the efficient cause) of this pleasure, because we know neither the nature of an idea, nor the substance of a human soul. The substance of a human soul is certainly a very uncouth expression, and there appears no reason why he should have varied from the word nature, which would have been applicable equally to idea and to soul.
Which might help us, our author proceeds, to discover the conformity or disagreeableness of the one to the other. The which, at the beginning of this member of the period, is surely ungrammatical, as it is a relative, without any antecedent in all the sentence. It refers, by the construction, to the nature of an idea, or the substance of a human soul; but this is by no means the reference which the author intended. His meaning is, that our knowing the nature of an idea, and the substance of a human soul, might help us to discover the conformity or disagreeableness of the one to the other; and therefore the syntax absolutely required the word knowledge to have been inserted as the antecedent to which. I have before remarked, and the remark deserves to be repeated, that nothing is a more certain sign of careless composition, than to make such relatives as which, not refer to any precise expression, but carry a loose and vague relation to the general strain of what had gone before. When our sentences run into this form, we may be assured there is something in the construction of them that requires alteration. The phrase of discovering the conformity or disagreeableness of the one to the other is likewise exceptionable; for disagreeableness neither forms a proper contrast to the other word, conformity, nor expresses what the author meant here, (as far as any meaning can be gathered from his words) that is, a certain unsuitableness or want of conformity to the nature of the soul. To say the truth, this member of the sentence had much better have been omitted altogether. The conformity or disagreeableness of an idea to the substance of a human soul, is a phrase which conveys to the mind no distinct nor intelligible conception whatever. The author had before given a sufficient reason for his not assigning the efficient cause of those pleasures of the imagination, because we neither know the nature of our own ideas nor of the soul; and this farther discussion about the conformity or disagreeableness of the nature of the one, to the substance of the other, affords no clear nor useful illustration.
And therefore, the sentence goes on, for want of such a light, all that we can do in speculations of this kind, is, to reflect on those operations of the soul that are most agreeable and to range under their proper heads what is pleasing or displeasing to the mind. The two expressions in the beginning of this member, therefore, and for want of such a light, evidently refer to the same thing, and are quite synonymous. One or other of them, therefore, had better have been omitted. Instead of to range under their proper heads, the language would have been smoother, if their had been left out. Without being able to trace out the several necessary and efficient causes from whence the pleasure or displeasure arises. The expression, from whence, though seemingly justified by very frequent usage, is taxed by Dr. Johnson as a vicious mode of speech; seeing whence, alone, has all the power of from whence, which therefore appears an unnecessary reduplication. I am inclined to think, that the whole of this last member of the sentence had better have been dropped. The period might have closed with full propriety, at the words, pleasing or displeasing to the mind. All that follows, suggests no idea that had not been fully conveyed in the preceding part of the sentence. It is a mere expletive adjection, which might be omitted not only without injury to the meaning, but to the great relief of a sentence already labouring under the multitude of words.
Having now finished the analysis of this long sentence, I am inclined to be of opinion, that if, on any occasion, we can adventure to alter Mr. Addison’s style, it may be done to advantage here, by breaking down this period in the following manner: ‘In yesterday’s paper we have shown that every thing which is great, new, or beautiful, is apt to affect the imagination with pleasure. We must own, that it is impossible for us to assign the efficient cause of this pleasure, because we know not the nature either of an idea, or of the human soul. All that we can do, therefore, in speculations of this kind, is to reflect on the operations of the soul which are most agreeable, and to range under proper heads, what is pleasing or displeasing to the mind.’ We proceed now to the examination of the following sentences.
‘Final causes lie more bare and open to our observation, as there are often a great variety that belong to the same effect; and these, though they are not altogether so satisfactory, are generally more useful than the other, as they give us greater occasion of admiring the goodness and wisdom of the first contriver.’
Though some difference might be traced between the sense of bare and open, yet, as they are here employed, they are so nearly synonymous, that one of them was sufficient. It would have been enough to have said, Final causes lie more open to observation. One can scarcely help observing here, that the obviousness of final causes does not proceed, as Mr. Addison supposes, from a variety of them concurring in the same effect, which is often not the case; but from our being able to ascertain more clearly, from our own experience, the congruity of a final cause with the circumstances of our condition; whereas the constituent parts of subjects, whence efficient causes proceed, lie for the most part beyond the reach of our faculties. But as this remark respects the thought more than the style, it is sufficient for us to observe, that when he says, a great variety that belong to the same effect, the expression, strictly considered, is not altogether proper. The accessory is properly said to belong to the principal; not the principal to the accessory. Now, an effect is considered as the accessory or consequence of its cause; and therefore, though we might well say a variety of effects belong to the same cause, it seems not so proper to say, that a variety of causes belong to the same effect.
‘One of the final causes of our delight in any thing that is great, may be this: The Supreme Author of our being has so formed the soul of man, that nothing but himself can be its last, adequate, and proper happiness. Because, therefore, a great part of our happiness must arise from the contemplation of his being, that he might give our souls a just relish of such contemplation, he has made them naturally delight in the apprehension of what is great or unlimited.’
The concurrence of two conjunctions, because therefore, forms rather a harsh and unpleasing beginning of the last of these sentences; and, in the close, one would think, that the author might have devised a happier word than apprehension, to be applied to what is unlimited. But that I may not be thought hypercritical, I shall make no farther observation on these sentences.
‘Our admiration, which is a very pleasing motion of the mind, immediately rises at the consideration of any object that takes up a good deal of room in the fancy, and, by consequence, will improve into the highest pitch of astonishment and devotion, when we contemplate his nature, that is neither circumscribed by time nor place, nor to be comprehended by the largest capacity of a created being.’
Here our author’s style rises beautifully along with the thought. However inaccurate he may sometimes be, when coolly philosophising, yet, whenever his fancy is awakened by description, or his mind, as here, warmed with some glowing sentiment, he presently becomes great, and discovers, in his language, the hand of a master. Every one must observe, with what felicity this period is constructed. The words are long and majestic. The members rise one above another, and conduct the sentence, at last, to that full and harmonious close, which leaves upon the mind such an impression, as the author intended to leave, of something uncommonly great, awful, and magnificent.
‘He has annexed a secret pleasure to the idea of any thing that is new or uncommon, that he might encourage us in the pursuit of knowledge, and engage us to search into the wonders of creation; for every new idea brings such a pleasure along with it, as rewards the pains we have taken in its acquisition, and consequently, serves as a motive to put us upon fresh discoveries.’
The language, in this sentence, is clear and precise: only, we cannot but observe, in this, and the two following sentences, which are constructed in the same manner, a strong proof of Mr. Addison’s unreasonable partiality to the particle that, in preference to which Annexed a secret pleasure to the idea of any thing that is new or uncommon, that he might encourage us. Here, the first that stands for a relative pronoun, and the next that, at the distance only of four words, is a conjunction. This confusion of sounds serves to embarrass style. Much better, sure, to have said, the idea of any thing which is new or uncommon that he might encourage. The expression with which the sentence concludes, a motive to put us upon fresh discoveries, is flat, and, in some degree, improper. He should have said, put us upon making fresh discoveries; or rather, serves as a motive inciting us to make fresh discoveries.
‘He has made every thing that is beautiful in our own species, pleasant, that all creatures might be tempted to multiply their kind; and fill the world with inhabitants; for, ’tis very remarkable, that, wherever nature is crost in the production of a monster, (the result of any unnatural mixture) the breed is incapable of propagating its likeness, and of founding a new order of creatures; so that, unless all animals were allured by the beauty of their own species, generation would be at an end, and the earth unpeopled.’
Here we must, however reluctantly, return to the employment of censure: for this is among the worst sentences our author ever wrote; and contains a variety of blemishes. Taken as a whole, it is extremely deficient in unity. Instead of a complete proposition, it contains a sort of chain of reasoning, the links of which are so ill put together, that it is with difficulty we can trace the connexion; and, unless we take the trouble of perusing it several times, it will leave nothing on the mind but an indistinct and obscure impression.
Besides this general fault, respecting the meaning, it contains some great inaccuracies in language. First, God’s having made every thing which is beautiful in our species, (that is, in the human species) pleasant, is certainly no motive for all creatures, for beasts, and birds, and fishes, to multiply their kind. What the author meant to say, though he has expressed himself in so erroneous a manner, undoubtedly was, ‘ In all the different orders of creatures, he has made every thing, which is beautiful in their own species, pleasant, that all creatures might be tempted to multiply their kind.’ The second member of the sentence is still worse. For it is very remarkable, that wherever nature is crost in the production of a monster, &c. The reason which he here gives, for the preceding assertion, intimated by the casual particle for, is far from being obvious. The connexion of thought is not readily apparent, and would have re quired an intermediate step, to render it distinct. But what does he mean, by nature being crost in the production of a monster? One might understand him to mean, ‘disappointed in its intention of producing a monster,’ as when we say, one is crost in his pursuits, we mean, that he is disappointed in accomplishing the end which he intended. Had he said, crost by the production of a monster, the sense would have been more intelligible. But the proper rectification of the expression would be to insert the adverb as, before the preposition in, after this manner; wherever nature is crost, as in the production of a monster. The insertion of this particle as, throws so much light on the construction of this member of the sentence, that I am very much inclined to believe, it had stood thus originally, in our author’s manuscript; and that the present reading is a typographical error, which, having crept into the first edition of the Spectator, ran through all the subsequent ones.
‘In the last place, he has made every thing that is beautiful, in all other objects, pleasant, or rather has made so many objects appear beautiful, that he might render the whole creation more gay and delightful. He has given almost every thing about us the power of raising an agreeable idea in the imagination; so that it is impossible for us to behold his works with coldness or indifference, and to survey so many beauties without a secret satisfaction and complacency.’
The idea, here, is so just, and the language so clear, flowing, and agreeable, that, to remark any diffuseness which may be attributed to these sentences, would be justly esteemed hypercritical.
‘ Things would make but a poor appearance to the eye, if we saw them only in their proper figures and motions: and what reason can we assign for their exciting in us, many of those ideas which are different from any thing that exists in the objects themselves, (for such are light and colours,) were it not to add supernumerary ornaments to the universe, and make it more agreeable to the imagination?’
Our author is now entering on a theory, which he is about to illustrate, if not with much philosophical accuracy, yet, with great beauty of fancy, and glow of expression. A strong instance of his want of accuracy, appears in the manner in which he opens the subject. For what meaning is there in things exciting in us many of those ideas which are different from any thing that exists in the objects? No one, sure, ever imagined that our ideas exist in the objects. Ideas, it is agreed on all hands, can exist no where but in the mind. What Mr. Locke’s philosophy ‘teaches, and what our author should have said, is, exciting in us many ideas of qualities which are different from any thing that exists in the objects. The ungraceful parenthesis which follows, for such are light and colours, had far better have been avoided, and incorporated with the rest of the sentence, in this manner: ‘ exciting in us many ideas of qualities, such as light and colours, which are different from any thing that exists in the objects.’
‘We are every where entertained with pleasing shows and apparitions. We discover imaginary glories in the heavens and in the earth, and see some of this visionary beauty poured out upon the whole creation; but what a rough unsightly sketch of nature should we be entertained with, did all her colouring disappear, and the several distinctions of light and shade vanish? In short, our souls are delightfully lost and bewildered in a pleasing delusion, and we walk about like the enchanted hero of a romance, who sees beautiful castles, woods, and meadows; and, at the same time, hears the warbling of birds, and the purling of streams; but, upon the finishing of some secret spell, the fantastic scene breaks up, and the disconsolate knight finds himself on a barren heath, or in a solitary desert.’
After having been obliged to point out several inaccuracies, I return with much more pleasure to the display of beauties, in which we have now full scope; for these two sentences are such as do the highest honour to Mr. Addison’s talents as a writer. Warmed with the idea he had laid hold of, his delicate sensibility to the beauty of nature, is finely displayed in the illustration of it. The style is flowing and full, without being too diffuse. It is flowery, but not gaudy; elevated, but not ostentatious.
Amidst this blaze of beauties, it is necessary for us to remark one or two inaccuracies. When it is said, towards the close of the first of those sentences, what a rough unsightly sketch of nature should we be entertained with, the preposition with should have been placed at the beginning, rather than at the end of this member; and the word entertained, is both improperly applied here, and carelessly repeated from the former part of the sentence. It was there employed according to its more common use, as relating to agreeable objects. We are every where entertained with pleasing shows. Here it would have been more proper to have changed the phrase, and said, with what a rough unsightly sketch of nature should we be presented. At the close of the second sentence, where it is said, the fantastic scene breaks up, the expression is lively, but not altogether justifiable. An assembly breaks up; a scene closes or disappears.
Excepting these two slight inaccuracies, the style, here, is not only correct, but perfectly elegant. The most striking beauty of the passage arises from the happy simile which the author employs, and the fine illustration which it gives to the thought. The enchanted hero, the beautiful castles, the fantastic scene, the secret spell, the disconsolate knight, are terms chosen with the utmost felicity, and strongly recall all those romantic ideas with which he intended to amuse our imagination. Few authors are more successful in their imagery than Mr. Addison; and few passages in his works, or in those of any author, are more beautiful and picturesque than that on which we have been commenting.
‘ It is not improbable, that something like this may be the state of the soul after its first separation, in respect of the images it will receive from matter; though, indeed, the ideas of colours are so pleasing and beautiful in the imagination, that it is possible the soul will not be deprived of them, but, perhaps, find them excited by some other occasional cause, as they are at present, by the different impressions of the subtile matter on the organ of the sight.’
As all human things, after having attained the summit, begin to decline, we must acknowledge that, in this sentence, there is a sensible falling off from the beauty of what went before. It is broken and deficient in unity. Its parts are not sufficiently compacted. It contains, besides, some faulty expressions. When it is said, something like this may be the state of the soul, to the pronoun this, there is no determined antecedent; it refers to the general import of the preceding description, which, as I have several times remarked, always rendered style clumsy and inelegant, if not obscure—the state of the soul after its first separation, appears to be an incomplete phrase, and first, seems an useless, and even an improper word. More distinct if he had said, state of the soul immediately on its separation from the body. The adverb perhaps, is redundant, after having just before said, it is possible.
‘I have here supposed, that my reader is acquainted with that great modern discovery, which is at present universally acknowledged by all the inquirers into natural philosophy: namely, that light and colours, as apprehended by the imagination, are only ideas in the mind, and not qualities that have any existence in matter. As this is a truth which has been proved incontestably by many modern philosophers, and is, indeed, one of the finest speculations in that science, if the English reader would see the notion explained at large, he may find it in the eighth chapter of the second book of Mr. Locke’s Essay on the Human Understanding.’
In these two concluding sentences, the author, hastening to finish, appears to write rather carelessly. In the first of them, a manifest tautology occurs, when he speaks of what is universally acknowledged by all inquirers. In the second, when he calls a truth which has been incontestably proved; first, a speculation, and afterwards a notion, the language surely is not very accurate. When he adds, one of the finest speculations in that science, it does not, at first, appear what science he means. One would imagine, he meant to refer to modern philosophers; for natural philosophy (to which, doubtless, he refers) stands at much too great a distance to be the proper or obvious antecedent to the pronoun that. The circumstance towards the close, if the English reader would see the notion explained at large, he may find it, is properly taken notice of by the author of the Elements of Criticism, as wrongly arranged, and is rectified thus: the English reader, if he would see the notion explained at large, may find it, &c.
In concluding the examination of this paper, we may observe, that though not a very long one, it exhibits a striking view both of the beauties, and the defects, of Mr. Addison’s style. It contains some of the best, and some of the worst sentences, that are to be found in his works. But upon the whole, it is an agreeable and elegant essay.