LECTURE XV. METAPHOR. AFTER the preliminary observations I have made, relating to figurative language in general, I come now to treat separately of such figures of speech, as occur most frequently, and require particular attention; and I begin with metaphor. This is a figure founded entirely on the resemblance which one object bears to another. Hence, it is much allied to simile, or comparison, and is indeed no other than a comparison expressed in an abridged form. When I say of some great minister, that he upholds the state, like a pillar which supports the weight of a whole edifice,' I fairly make a comparison; but when I say of such a minister that he is the pillar of the state,' it is now become a metaphor. The comparison betwixt the minister and a pillar, is made in the mind; but is expressed without any of the words that denote comparison. The comparison is only insinuated, not expressed the one object is supposed to be so like the other, that, without formally drawing the comparison, the name of the one may be put in the place of the name of the other. The minister is the pillar of the state.' This, therefore, is a more lively and animated manner of expressing the resemblances which imagination traces among objects. There is nothing which delights the fancy more, than this act of comparing things together, discovering resemblances between them, and describing them by their likeness. The mind thus employed, is exercised without being fatigued; and is gratified with the consciousness of its own ingenuity. We need not be surprised, therefore, at finding all language tinctured strongly with metaphor. It insinuates itself even into familiar conversation; and unsought, rises up of its own accord in the mind. The very words which I have casually employed in describing this, are a proof of what I say; tinctured, insinuates, rises up, are all of them metaphorical expressions, borrowed from some resemblance which fancy forms between sensible objects, and the internal operations of the mind; and yet the terms are no less clear, and perhaps, more expressive, than if words had been used which were to be taken in the strict and literal sense. Though all metaphor imports comparison, and therefore is, in that respect, a figure of thought; yet, as the words in a metaphor are not taken literally, but changed from their proper to a figurative sense, the metaphor is commonly ranked among tropes or figures of words. But provided the nature of it be well understood, it signifies very little whether we call it a figure or a trope. I have confined it to the expression of resemblance between two objects. I must remark, however, that the word metaphor is sometimes used in a looser and more extended sense; for the application of a term u any figurative signification, whether the figure be founded on resem blance, or on scne other relation, which two objects bear to one another. For instance; when gray hairs are put for old age; as, to bring one's gray hairs with sorrow to the grave;' some writers would call this a metaphor, though it is not properly one, but what rhetoricians call a metonymy; that is, the effect put for the cause; ' gray hairs' being the effect of old age, but not bearing any sort of resemblance to it. Aristotle, in his Poetics, uses metaphor in this extended sense, for any figurative meaning imposed upon a word; as a whole put for the part, or a part for the whole; a species for the genus, or a genus for the species. But it would be unjust to tax this most acute writer with any inaccuracy on this account; the minute subdivisions, and various names of tropes, being unknown in his days, and the invention of later rhetoricians. Now, however, when these divisions are established, it is inaccurate to call every figurative use of terms, promiscuously, a metaphor. Of all the figures of speech, none comes so near to painting as metaphor. Its peculiar effect is to give light and strength to description; to make intellectual ideas, in some sort, visible to the eye, by giving them colour, and substance, and sensible qualities. In order to produce this effect, however, a delicate hand is required: for, by a very little inaccuracy, we are in hazard of introducing confusion, in place of promoting perspicuity. Several rules, therefore, are necessary to be given for the proper inanagement of metaphors. But before entering on these, I shall give one instance of a very beautiful metaphor, that I may show the figure to full advantage. I shall take my instance from Lor:1 Bolingbroke's remarks on the History of England. Just at the coclusion of his work, he is speaking of the behaviour of Charles I. to his last parliament; 'In a word,' says he, 'about a month after their meeting, he dissolved them; and, as soon as he had dissolved them, he repented; but he repented too late of his rashness. Well might he repent; for the vessel was now full, and this last drop made the waters of bitterness overflow.' 'Here,' he adds, 'we draw the curtain, and put an end to our remarks.' Nothing could be more happily thrown off. The metaphor, we see, is continued through several expressions. The vessel is put for the state, or temper of the nation, already full, that is, provoked to the highest by former oppressions and wrongs; this last drop, stands for the provocation recently received by the abrupt dissolution of the parliament; and the overflowing of the waters of bitterness, beautifully expresses all the effects of resentment, let loose by an exasperated people. On this passage, we may make two remarks in passing. The one, that nothing forms a more spirited and dignified conclusion of a subject, than a figure of this kind happily placed at the close. We see the effect of it, in this instance. The author goes off with a good grace; and leaves a strong and full impression of his subject on the reader's mind. My other remark is, the advantage which a metaphor frequently has above a formal comparison. How much would the sentiment here have been enfeebled, if it had been ex pressed in the style of a regular simile, thus: Well might he repent; for the state of the nation, loaded with grievances and provocations, resembled a vessel that was now full, and this superadded provocation, like the last drop infused, made their rage and resentment, as waters of bitterness, overflow.' It has infinitely more spirit and force as it now stands, in the form of a metaphor. Weil might he repent: for the vessel was now full; and this last drop made the waters of bitterness overflow.' Having mentioned, with applause, this instance from Lord Boling broke, I think it incumbent on me here to take notice, that, though I may have recourse to this author, sometimes, for examples of style, it is his style only, and not his sentiments, that deserve praise. It is indeed my opinion, that there are few writings in the English language, which, for the matter contained in them, can be read with less profit of fruit, than Lord Bolingbroke's works. His political writings have the merit of a very lively and eloquent style; but they have no other; being, as to the substance, the mere temporary productions of faction and party; no better, indeed, than pamphlets written for the day. His posthumous, or as they are called, his philosophical works, wherein he attacks religion, have still less merit; for they are as loose in the style as they are flimsy in the reasoning. An unhappy instance, this author is, of parts and genius so miserably perverted by faction and passion, that, as his memory will descend to posterity with little honour, so his productions will soon pass, and are, indeed, already passing into neglect and oblivion. Returning from this digression to the subject before us, I proceed to lay down the rules to be observed in the conduct of metaphors; and which are much the same for tropes of every kind. The first which I shall mention, is, that they be suited to the nature of the subject of which we treat; neither too many, nor too gay, nor too elevated for it; that we neither attempt to force the subject, by ineans of them, into a degree of elevation which is not congruous to it; nor, on the other hand, allow it to sink below its proper dignity. This is a direction which belongs to all figurative language, and should be ever kept in view. Some metaphors are allowable, nay, beautiful, in poetry, which it would be absurd and unnatural to employ in prose; some may be graceful in orations, which would be very improper in historical or philosophical composition. We must remember, that figures are the dress of our sentiments. As there is a natural congruity between dress, and the character or rank of the person who wears it, a violation of which congruity never fails to hurt; the same holds precisely as to the application of figures to sentiment. The excessive, or unseasonable employment of them, is mere foppery in writing. It gives a boyish air to composition; and instead of raising a subject, in fact, diminishes its dignity. For, as in life, true dignitv must be founded on character, not on dress and appearance. so the dignity of composition must arise from sentiment and thought, not from ornament. The affectation and parade of ornament, detract as much from an author, as they do from a man. Figures and metaphors, therefore, should on no occasion be stuck on too pro fusely; and never should be such as refuse to accord with the strain of our sentiment. Nothing can be more unnatural, than for a writer to carry on a train of reasoning, in the same sort of figurative language, which he would use in description. When he reasons, we look only for perspicuity; when he describes, we expect emberfishment; when he divides, or relates, we desire plainness and simplicity. One of the greatest secrets in composition is, to know when to be simple. This always gives a heightening to ornament, in its proper place. The right disposition of the shade, makes the light and colouring strike the more: 'Is enim est eloquens,' says Cicero, qui et humilia subtiliter, et magna graviter, et mediocria temperatè potest dicere. Nam qui nihil potest tranquille, nihil leniter, nihil definitè, distinctè, potest dicere, is, cum non præparatis auribus inflammare rem cœpit, furere apud sanos, et quasi inter sobrios bacchari temulentus videtur.'* This admonition should be particularly attended to by young practitioners in the art of writing, who are apt to be carried away by an undistinguishing admiration of what is showy and florid, whether in its place or not.t The second rule which I give, respects the choice of objects. from whence metaphors, and other figures, are to be drawn. The field for figurative language is very wide. All nature, to speak in the style of figures, opens its stores to us, and admits us to gather, from all sensible objects, whatever can illustrate intellectual or moral ideas. Not only the gay and splendid objects of sense, but the grave, the terrifying, and even the gloomy and dismal, may, on different occasions, be introduced into figures with propriety. But we must beware of ever using such allusions as raise in the mind disagreeable, mean, vulgar, or dirty ideas. Even when metaphors are chosen in order to vilify and degrade any object, an author should study never to be nauseous in his allusions. Cicero blames an orator of his time, for terming his enemy 'Stercus Curiæ;' quamvis sit simile,' says he, 'tamen est deformis cogitatio similitudinis.' But, in subjects of dignity, it is an unpardonable fault to introduce mean and vulgar metaphors. In the treatise on the Art of Sinking, in Dean Swift's works, there is a full and humorous collection of instances of this kind, • "He is truly eloquent, who can discourse of humble subjects in & plain style, who can treat important ones with dignity, and speak of things which are of a middle nature, in a temperate strain. For one who, upon no occasion, can express himself in a calm, orderly, distinct manner, when he begins to be on fire before his readers are prepared to kindle along with him, has the appearance of raving like a madman among persons who are in their senses, or of reeling like a drunkard in the midst of sober com pany" + What person of the least taste, can bear the following passage, in a late historian? He is giving an account of the famous act of parliament against irregular marriages in England: "The bill,' says he, 'underwent a great number of alterations and amendments, which were not effected without violent contest. This is plain language, suited to the subject; and we naturally expect, that he should go on in the same strain, to tell us, that, after these contests, it was carried by a great majority of voices, and obtained the royal as went. But how does he express himself in finishing the period? At length, however, it was floated through both houses, on the tide of a great majority, and steered into t safe harbour of royal approbation.' Nothing can be more perile han such language. Smollet's History of England, as quoted in Critical Review for Oct. 1761, p. 251. wherein authors, instead of exalting, have contrived to degrade, their subjects by the figures they employed. Authors of greater note than those which are there quoted, have, at times, fallen into this error. Archbishop Tillotson, for instance, is sometimes negligent in his choice of metaphors; as, when speaking of the day of judgment, he describes the world, as cracking about the sinners' cars.' Shakspeare, whose imagination was rich and bold, in a much greater degree than it was delicate, often fails here. The following, for example, is a gross transgression; in his Henry V. having men. tioned a dunghill, he presently raises a metaphor from the steam of it; and on a subject too, that naturally led to much nobler ideas: And those that leave their valiant bones in France, Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills, They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet them, And draw their honours reeking up to heaven. Act IV. Sc. 8. In the third place, as metaphors should be drawn from objects of some dignity, so particular care should be taken that the resemblance, which is the foundation of the metaphor, be clear and perspicuous, not far fetched nor difficult to discover. The transgression of this rule makes what are called harsh or forced metaphors, which are always displeasing, because they puzzle the reader, and, instead of illustrating the thought, render it perplexed and intricate. With metaphors of this kind, Cowley abounds. He, and some of the writers of his age, seem to have considered it as the perfection of wit, to hit upon likenesses between objects which no other person could have discovered; and, at the same time, to pursue those metaphors so far, that it requires some ingenuity to follow them out and comprehend them. This makes a metaphor resemble an ænigma; and is the very reverse of Cicero's rule on this head: 'Verecunda debet esse translatio; ut deducta esse in alienum locum non irruisse, atque ut voluntario non vi venisse videatur." How forced and obscure, for instance, are the following verses of Cowley, speaking of his mistress: Wo to her stubborn heart, if once mine come 'Twill tear and blow up all within, Like a granado, shot into a magazine. Then shall love keep the ashes and torn parts Shall out of both one new one make; From hers th' alloy, from mine the metal take: Mine only will remain entire, No dross was there to perish in the fire. In this manner he addresses sleep: In vain thou drowsy god, I thee invoke; For thou, who dost from fumes arise, Every metaphor should be modest, so that it may carry the appearance of having teen led, not of having forced itself into the place of that word whose rooms it occu pies that it may seem to have come thither of its own accord, and not by con strain." De Oratore, L ii .53 |