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in those metaphors in which the figurative and literal senses are confounded. In an allegory, as well as a metaphor, such terms ought to be chosen as are literally applicable to the representative subject; nor ought any circumstance to be added which is not proper to that subject, however justly it may apply to the principal, either in a figurative or proper sense. Our view must never waver between the type and the antitype. Most of the rules which have been delivered with regard to metaphors may also be applied to allegories, on account of the affinity which those figures bear to each other. The only material difference between them, besides the one being generally short, and the other more prolonged, is, that a metaphor always explains itself by the words which are connected with it in their proper and natural meaning. When I say, "Wallace was a thunderbolt of war," "in peace Fingal was the gale of spring," the thunderbolt of war, and the gale of spring, are sufficiently interpreted by the mention of Wallace and Fingal. But an allegory may be allowed to stand more unconnected with the literal meaning; the interpretation is not so directly pointed out, but is left to our own discovery.

Allegories were a favourite method of delivering instruction in ancient times; for what we call fables or parables are no other than allegories; and those fables. are to be found among the earliest productions of literature. They represent the dispositions of men by words. and actions attributed to beasts and inanimate objects; and what we call the moral, is the simple meaning of the allegory. An enigma or riddle is also a figure of this kind one thing is imaged by another, but purposely rendered obscure by being involved in a complication of circumstances. Where a riddle is not intended, it is always a fault in an allegory to be too dark. The meaning should be easily seen through the figure by which it is shadowed. The proper mixture of light and shade in such compositions, the exact adjustment of all the figurative circumstances with the literal sense, so as neither to lay the meaning too open, nor to cover it too

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closely, has ever been found a subject of great nicety; and in allegorical compositions of any length, few writers have succeeded.

An allegory is in every respect similar to a hieroglyphical painting, excepting only that words are used instead of colours. Their effects are precisely the same. A hieroglyphic raises two images in the mind; one seen, which represents one not seen. The same is the case with an allegory: the representative subject is described; and the resemblance leads us to apply the description to the subject represented.

Nothing affords greater pleasure than this figure, when the representative subject bears a strong analogy, in all its circumstances, to that which is represented; but the choice is seldom so fortunate, the analogy being generally so faint and obscure as to puzzle instead of pleasing. An allegory is still more difficult in painting than in writing: the former can shew no resemblance but what appears to the eye; whereas the latter has many other resources.

For the further illustration of the nature of allegory, I shall subjoin two examples.

My well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill: and he fenced it, and gathered out the stones thereof, and planted it with the choicest vine, and built a tower in the midst of it, and also made a wine-press therein: and he looked that it should bring forth grapes, and it brought forth wild grapes. And now, O inhabitants of jerusalem, and men of Judah, judge, I pray you, betwixt me and my vineyard. What could have been done more to my vineyard, that I have not done in it? Wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes? And now, go to; I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard: I will take away the hedge thereof, and it shall be eaten up; and break down the wall thereof, and it shall be trodden down: and I will lay it waste: it shall not be pruned nor digged; but there shall come up briers and thorns: I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it. For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the men of Judah his pleasant plant.—Isaiah.

Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
What though the mast be now blown overboard,
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost,
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood?

Yet lives our pilot still. Is't meet that he
Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad,

With tearful eyes add water to the sea,

And give more strength to that which hath too much;
While in his moan the ship splits on the rock,

Which industry and courage might have saved?-Shakspeare.

THE CONCISE AND THE DIFFUSE STYLE.

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ARISTOTLE has long ago delivered a very decided opinion as to the inutility of entering into any minute disquisition respecting the different species of style; and, according to this high authority, to say that style ought to be sweet or magnificent, is not more to the purpose than to say that it ought to be temperate or liberal, or to display any other of the moral virtues. Nor has the importance of such discussions been more highly estimated by another learned writer, who belongs to a very recent era. When," says Mr. Knight, "we find every florid and affected rhetorician, who has successively contributed to the corruption of Greek, Latin, and English eloquence, applauding, in quaint phraseology and epigrammatic point, the simple purity of Xenophon, Cæsar, and Swift, and condemning in others the very style which he employs, we can scarcely believe that he knew, at the time of writing, how widely the taste, which he had acquired by habit, differed from the judgment which he exercised under the influence of authority."* These strictures are by no means en

couraging: but we must nevertheless make an attempt to extract some degree of practical utility from an investigation of the different characters of style; and to fail

* Knight's Analytical Inquiry into the Principles of Taste.

in such an attempt, can, after these suggestions, occasion no surprise or disappointment.

It has already been hinted that, as words are symbols of our ideas, there must always be a very intimate connexion between the manner in which a writer employs words, and his manner of thinking; and that, by the peculiarity of his thought and expression, there is a certain character imprinted on his style, which may be denominated his manner. The terms which we use in order to express the general manner of different authors, bear some reference to their mode of thinking, but refer chiefly to their mode of expression. The distinctions of nervous and feeble, simple and affected, arise from the whole tenor of a writer's language, and comprehend the effect produced by all those parts of style which we have already considered; the choice which he makes of single words, his arrangement of these in sentences; the degree of his precision; and his embellishments, by means of musical cadence, or the various figures of speech.

That different subjects require to be treated with some difference of style, is a position too evident to stand in need of illustration. Philosophy demands one kind of style, oratory another; and different parts of the same composition require a variation in the style and manner. But amidst this variety, we still expect to find, in the writings of the same individual, some degree of uniformity, or consistency with himself; we expect to find some predominant character of style impressed on all his works, which shall be suited to his particular genius and turn of mind. Wherever there is real and native genius, it gives a determination to one kind of style rather than another. Where nothing of this description appears, where there is no marked or peculiar character in the compositions of an author, we are apt to infer that he writes from imitation, and not from the impulse of original genius.

One of the most obvious distinctions of style arises from the conciseness or the diffuseness with which an author expresses his sentiments. A concise writer

compresses his thoughts into the fewest possible words; he employs none but such as are most significant; he lops off every vague and redundant expression. Ornament he does not reject; he may be lively and figurative, but his ornaments are introduced in order to add force to his diction. He never repeats the same thought. His sentences are arranged with compactness and strength, rather than with grace and harmony. The utmost precision is studied in them; and they are commonly designed to suggest more to the reader's imagination than they directly express. On the other hand, a diffuse writer places his ideas in a variety of lights, and gives the reader every possible assistance for understanding them completely; he is not solicitous to express them at once in their full extent, because he generally repeats the impression; and what he wants in strength, he purposes to supply by copiousness. Writers of this character commonly love magnificence and amplification: their periods naturally extend to some length; and having room for ornament, they admit it freely.

Each of these manners has its peculiar advantages; and each becomes faulty when carried to the extreme. The extreme of conciseness degenerates into abruptness and obscurity; and is apt to introduce a style too pointed, and bordering on the epigrammatic. The extreme of diffuseness becomes weak and languid, and fatigues the reader. To one or other of these two manners, a writer may, however, lean according as his genius prompts him; and, under the general character of a concise or of a diffuse style, may possess much beauty in his diction.

In judging when it is proper to incline to the concise, when to the diffuse manner, we must be directed by the nature of the composition. Discourses which are to be spoken, require a more copious style than books which are to be read. When the whole meaning must be caught from the mouth of the speaker, without the advantage which books afford of pausing at pleasure, and reviewing what appears obscure, great conciseness

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