CHAP. XIX.

COMPARISONS.

COmparisons, as observed above[1]; serve two different purposes: When addressed to the understanding, their purpose is to instruct; when to the heart, their purpose is to give pleasure. With respect to the latter, a comparison may be employ’d to produce various pleasures by {4}different means. First, by suggesting some unusual resemblance or contrast: second, by setting an object in the strongest light: third, by associating an object with others that are agreeable: fourth, by elevating an object: and, fifth, by depressing it. And that comparisons may produce various pleasures by these different means, appears from what is said in the chapter above cited; and will be made still more evident by examples, which shall be given after premising some general observations.

An object of one sense cannot be compared to an object of another; for such objects are totally separated from each other, and have no circumstance in common to admit either resemblance or contrast. Objects of hearing may be compared, as also of taste, and of touch. But the chief fund of comparison are objects of sight; because, in writing or speaking, things can only be compared in idea, and the ideas of visible objects are by far more lively than those of any other sense.

It has no good effect to compare things by way of simile that are of the {5}same kind, nor to contrast things of different kinds. The reason is given in the chapter cited above; and the reason shall be illustrated by examples. The first is a resemblance instituted betwixt two objects so nearly related as to make little or no impression.

Another from Milton labours under the same defect. Speaking of the fallen angels searching for mines of gold:

The next shall be of things contrasted that are of different kinds.

This comparison has scarce any force. A man and a lion are of different species; and there is no such resemblance betwixt them in general, as to produce any strong effect by contrasting particular attributes or circumstances.

A third general observation is, That abstract terms can never be the subject of comparison, otherwise than by being personified.{7} Shakespear compares adversity to a toad, and slander to the bite of a crocodile; but in such comparisons these abstract terms must be imagined sensible beings.

I now proceed to illustrate by particular instances the different means by which comparison can afford pleasure; and, in the order above established, I shall begin with those instances that are agreeable by suggesting some unusual resemblance or contrast:

The last exertion of courage compared to the blaze of a lamp before extinguishing, Tasso Gierusalem, canto 19. st. 22.

None of the foregoing similes, as it appears to me, have the effect to add any lustre to the principal subject; and therefore the pleasure they afford, must arise from suggesting resemblances that are not obvious: I mean the chief pleasure; for undoubtedly a beautiful subject introduced to form the simile affords a separate pleasure, which is felt in the similes mentioned, particularly in that cited from Milton.

The next effect of a comparison in the{10} order mentioned, is to place an object in a strong point of view; which I think is done sensibly in the following similes.

The imitation of this beautiful simile by Ariosto, canto 1. st. 42. falls short of the original. It is also in part imitated by Pope[2].

Lucetta. I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire, But qualify the fires extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.

Julia. The more thou damm’st it up, the more it burns: The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know’st, being stopp’d, impatiently doth rage; But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with th’ enamel’d stones Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. And so by many winding nooks he strays With willing sport, to the wild ocean. Then let me go, and hinder not my course; I’ll be as patient as a gentle stream, And make a pastime of each weary step Till the last step have brought me to my love; And there I’ll rest, as, after much turmoil, A blessed soul doth in Elysium. {12}

Two Gentlemen of Verona, act 2. sc. 10.

York. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke, Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his aspiring rider seem’d to know, With slow but stately pace, kept on his course: While all tongues cry’d, God save thee, Bolingbroke.

Duchess. Alas! poor Richard, where rides he the while?

York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-grac’d actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious: Even so, or with much more contempt, mens eyes Did scowl on Richard; no man cry’d, God save him! No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home; But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, His face still combating with tears and smiles,{13} The badges of his grief and patience; That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel’d The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted; And barbarism itself have pitied him.

Richard II. act 5. sc. 3.

The sight obtained of the city of Jerusalem by the Christian army, compared to that of land discovered after a long voyage, Tasso’s Gierusalem, canto 3. st. 4. The fury of Rinaldo subsiding when not opposed, to that of wind or water when it has a free passage, canto 20. st. 58.{15}

As words convey but a faint and obscure notion of great numbers, a poet, to give a high notion of the object he describes with regard to number, does well to compare it to what is familiar and commonly known. Thus Homer[3] compares the Grecian army in point of number to a swarm of bees. In another passage[4] he compares it to that profusion of leaves and flowers which appear in the spring, or of insects in a summer’s evening. And Milton,

Such comparisons have, by some writers[5], been condemned for the lowness of{16} the images introduced: but surely without reason; for, with regard to numbers, they put the principal subject in a strong light.

The foregoing comparisons operate by resemblance; others have the same effect by contrast:

Milton has a peculiar talent in embellishing the principal subject by associating it with others that are agreeable, which is{17} the third end of a comparison. Similes of this kind have, beside, a separate effect: they diversify the narration by new images that are not strictly necessary to the comparison: they are short episodes, which, without distracting us from the principal subject, afford great delight by their beauty and variety:

With regard to similes of this kind, it will readily occur to the reader, that when the resembling subject or circumstance is once properly introduced in a simile, the mind passes easily to the new objects, and is transitorily amused with them, without feeling any disgust at the slight interruption. Thus, in fine weather, the momentary excursions of{20} a traveller for agreeable prospects or sumptuous buildings, chear his mind, relieve him from the langour of uniformity, and without much lengthening his journey in reality, shorten it greatly in appearance.

Next of comparisons that aggrandize or elevate. These make stronger impressions than any other sort; the reason of which may be gathered from the chapter of grandeur and sublimity, and, without reasoning, will be evident from the following instances.

I beg peculiar attention to the following simile, for a reason that shall be mentioned.

The image of a falling rock is certainly not elevating[6]. Yet undoubtedly the foregoing image fires and swells the mind. It is grand therefore, if not sublime. And that there is a real, though delicate distinction, betwixt these two feelings, will be illustrated from the following simile.

A comparison by contrast may contribute to grandeur or elevation, not less than by resemblance; of which the following comparison of Lucan is a remarkable instance.

Considering that the Heathen deities possessed a rank but one degree above that of mankind, I think it scarce possible, by a single expression, to elevate or dignify more one of the human species, than is done by this comparison. I am sensible, at the same time, that such a comparison among Christians, who entertain juster notions of the Deity, would justly be reckoned extravagant and absurd.

The last article mentioned, is that of lessening or depressing a hated or disagreeable object; which is effectually done by resembling it to any thing that is low or despicable. Thus Milton, in his description of the rout of the rebel-angels, happily expresses their terror and dismay in the following simile.{24}

In the same view, Homer, I think, may be defended, in comparing the shouts of the Trojans in battle, to the noise of cranes[7], and to the bleating of a flock of sheep[8]: and it is no objection, that these are low images; for by opposing the noisy march of the Trojans to the silent and manly march of the Greeks, he certainly intended to lessen the former. Addison[9], imagining the figure that men make in the sight of a superior being, takes opportunity to mor{25}tify their pride by comparing them to a swarm of pismires.

A comparison that has none of the good effects mentioned in this discourse, but is built upon common and trifling circumstances, makes a mighty silly figure: “Non sum nescius, grandia consilia a multis plerumque causis, ceu magna navigia a plurimis remis, impelli[10].”

By this time I imagine the different purposes of comparison, and the various impressions it makes on the mind, are sufficiently illustrated by proper examples. This was an easy work. It is more difficult to lay down rules about the propriety or impropriety of comparisons; in what circumstances they may be introduced, and in what circumstances they are out of place. It is evident, that a comparison is not proper upon every occasion; a man in his cool and sedate moments, is not disposed to poetical flights, nor to sacrifice truth and reality to the delusive operations of the imagination; far less is he so disposed, when oppressed with cares, or interested in some important transaction{26} that occupies him totally. The region of comparison and of all figurative expression, lies betwixt these two extremes. It is observable, that a man, when elevated or animated by any passion, is disposed to elevate or animate all his objects: he avoids familiar names, exalts objects by circumlocution and metaphor, and gives even life and voluntary action to

inanimate beings. In this warmth of mind, the highest poetical flights are indulged, and the boldest similes and metaphors relished[11]. But without soaring so high, the mind is frequently in a tone to relish chaste and moderate ornament; such as comparisons that set the principal object in a strong point of view, or that embellish and diversify the narration. In general, when by any animating passion, whether pleasant or painful, an impulse is given to the imagination; we are in that condition wonderfully disposed to every sort of figurative expression, and in particular to com{27}parisons. This in a great measure is evident from the comparisons already mentioned; and shall be further illustrated by other examples. Love, for example, in its infancy, rousing the imagination, prompts the heart to display itself in figurative language, and in similes:

Again,

The dread of a misfortune, however imminent, involving always some doubt and uncertainty, agitates the mind, and excites the imagination:

But it will be a better illustration of the present head, to give examples where comparisons are improperly introduced. I have had already occasion to observe, that similes are not the language of a man in his ordinary state of mind, going about the common affairs of life. For that reason, the following speech of a gardiner to his servants, is extremely improper.

The fertility of Shakespear’s vein betrays him frequently into this error. There is the same impropriety in another simile of his:

Rooted grief, deep anguish, terror, remorse, despair, and all the severe dispiriting passions, are declared enemies, perhaps not to figurative language in general, but undoubtedly to the pomp and solemnity of comparison.{30} Upon this account the simile pronounced by young Rutland under terror of death from an inveterate enemy, and praying mercy, is unnatural:

Nothing appears more out of place, or more aukwardly introduced, than the following simile.

Nor doth the simile which closes the first act of the same tragedy, make its appearance with a much better grace; the situation there represented, being too dispiriting for a simile. A simile is improper for one who dreads the discovery of a secret machination.

A man spent and dispirited after losing a battle, is not disposed to heighten or illustrate his discourse by similes:

Far less is a man disposed to similes who is not only defeated in a pitch’d battle, but lies at the point of death mortally wounded.

Queen Katharine, deserted by the King and in the deepest affliction upon her divorce, could not be disposed to any sallies of imagination: and for that reason, the fol{33}lowing simile, however beautiful in the mouth of a spectator, is scarce proper in her own.

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 end; and of this defect instances are not{34} rare even among good writers. 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:

The latter of the two similes is good. The former, because of the faintness of the resemblance, produces no good effect, and crowds the narration with an useless image.

The next error I shall mention is a capital one. In an epic poem, or in any elevated subject, a writer ought to avoid raising a simile upon 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. It is the peculiar character{37} of a grand object to fix the attention, and swell the mind: in this state, it is disagreeable to contract the mind to a minute object, however elegant. The resembling an object to one that is greater, has, on the contrary, a good effect, by raising or swelling the mind. One passes with satisfaction from a small to a great object; but cannot be drawn down, without reluctance, from great to small. Hence the following similes are faulty.

To describe bees gathering honey as resembling the builders of Carthage, would have a much better effect.

The following simile has not any one beauty to recommend it. The subject is Amata the wife of King Latinus.

This simile seems to border upon the burlesque.

An error opposite to the former, is the introducing a resembling image, so elevated{40} or great as to bear no proportion to the principal subject. The remarkable disparity betwixt them, being the most striking circumstance, seizes the mind, and never fails to depress the principal subject by contrast, instead of raising it by resemblance: and if the disparity be exceeding great, the simile takes on an air of burlesque; nothing being more ridiculous than to force an object out of its proper rank in nature, by equalling it with one greatly superior or greatly inferior. This will be evident from the following comparisons.

Such a simile upon the simplest of all actions, that of opening a lock, is pure burlesque.{42}

A writer of delicacy will avoid drawing his comparisons from any image that is nauseous, ugly, or remarkably disagreeable: for however strong the resemblance may be, more will be lost than gained by such comparison. Therefore I cannot help condemning, though with some reluctance, the following simile, or rather metaphor.

The strongest objection that can lie against a comparison, is, that it consists in words only, not in sense. Such false coin, or bastard wit, does extremely well in burlesque; but is far below the dignity of the epic, or of any serious composition:{43}

There is evidently no resemblance betwixt an isicle and a woman, chaste or unchaste. But chastity is cold in a metaphorical sense, and an isicle is cold in a proper sense; and this verbal resemblance, in the hurry and glow of composing, has been thought a sufficient foundation for the simile. Such phantom similes are mere witticisms, which ought to have no quarter, except where purposely introduced to provoke laughter. Lucian, in his dissertation upon history, talking of a certain author, makes the following comparison, which is verbal merely.

This author’s descriptions are so cold, that they surpass the Caspian snow, and all the ice of the north.

{44}

Virgil has not escaped this puerility:

Nor Tasso, in his Aminta:

Nor Boileau, the chastest of all writers; and that even in his art of poetry:{45}

Here there is no manner of resemblance but in the word drown; for there is no real resemblance betwixt being drown’d at sea, and dying of grief at land. But perhaps this sort of tinsel wit, may have a propriety in it, when used to express an affected, not a real, passion, which was the Queen’s case.{46}

Pope has several similes of the same stamp. I shall transcribe one or two from the Essay on Man, the gravest and most instructive of all his performances.

And again, talking of this same ruling or master passion.

Lord Bolingbroke, speaking of historians:

Where their sincerity as to fact is doubtful, we strike out truth by the confrontation of different accounts; as we strike out sparks of fire by the collision of flints and steel.

Let us vary the phrase a very little, and there will not remain a shadow of resemblance. Thus, for example:

{47}

We discover truth by the confrontation of different accounts; as we strike out sparks of fire by the collision of flints and steel.

Racine makes Pyrrhus say to Andromaque,

And Orestes, in the same strain:

Similes of this kind put one in mind of a ludicrous French song:

Again,

A vulgar Irish ballad begins thus:

Where the subject is burlesque or ludicrous, such similes are far from being improper. Horace says pleasantly,

And Shakespear,

And this leads me to observe, that beside the foregoing comparisons, which are all serious, there is a species, the end and purpose of which is to excite gaiety or mirth. Take the following examples.

Falstaff, speaking to his page:

I do here walk before thee, like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one.

Second Part Henry IV. act 1. sc. 4.

I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a horse-stealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as{49} concave as a cover’d goblet, or a worm-eaten nut.

As you like it, act 3. sc. 10.

Desciption of Hudibras’s horse:

Books, like men, their authors, have but one way of coming into the world; but there are ten thousand to go out of it, and return no more.

Tale of a Tub.