when our metaphors or figures present the images of objects which address themselves to our outward vision. But this rule will not serve our turn, when our images relate to objects of the other senses, or to the invisible sentiments and operations of the mind. When Ossian asserts that the music of Caryl was like the memory of joys that are past, pleasant and mournful to the soul,' or when one prophet declares that, in the afflictions with which Jerusalem was visited, the Almighty had given her' wormwood and gall to drink,' and another, 'I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, Alleluia, for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth,' the images or ideas presented to the mind, beautiful and sublime as they are, could not be delineated upon canvass, although they awaken strong and agreeable emotions. But, nevertheless, although it is allowed that the fine writer could not always be accompanied by the painter, throughout his whole tract of thought, but would find this rule fail him in many of his brightest conceptions, yet it is not to be denied, that his images, if rightly delineated, can always present a distinct object to the intellectual eye, if not to the corporeal. From this maxim there is no exception: it is to the writer of inestimable value, and if scrupulously observed, will banish from all kinds of composition that obscurity and confusion which so often interfere with the successful communication of thought, and occasion one of the greatest blemishes in the performance of genius. Had Shakspeare been apprized of this infallible criterion of accurate imagery, we should never have heard him speak of 'taking up arms against a sea of troubles;' of a way of life falling into the sere, the yellow leaf;' ' of the hope being drunk in which Macbeth dressed himself;' of the same hero's 'bathing in reeking wounds;' of an 'ocean overpeering his list, and eating the flats with impetuous haste;' 'of having a tomb of orphans' tears wept upon Cranmer's bones, when he had run his course;' and of a thousand other instances, in which this consummate master of nature, and pride of the dramatic muse, has mingled colors in his images, which, however beautiful or sublime, when separately taken, throw obscurity and confusion into his conceptions, and lie as a dead fly upon the ointment of his most exquisite passages. Into this fault men are most apt to be betrayed, who are endowed with the richest imagination, and the greatest fertility of invention; and it never fails to give a more pungent zest to works among readers of crude and unconcocted taste. It is, however, to be as much deprecated in fine writing, as a confused and incongruous mixture of colors in the productions of the painter. How strikingly this blemish is displayed to us in that sentence of Lord Bacon: Public envy is an ostracism, which eclipses the fame of men when they grow too great.' Here, although the idea is very successfully conveyed, yet the metaphors are dark, and incompatible with each other; for how could the mode of suffrage among the Greeks denominated ostracism, be said to eclipse any object which implies the obscuration of any planet by an interposing orb? This confused and undistinguishing mixture of figures, is one of the most prevailing and blighting deformities in the recent performances of American genius.

As to the next points upon this subject to which you have alluded,

when figurative language begins to be advantageous in writing; and when it becomes injurious, no critic has, as yet, appeared able to furnish precise and definite prescriptions. Here the treatise of Quintilian, of Dionysius, of Cicero, of Blair, and all other modern coadjutors, fail us. You have before remarked, with Cicero, that the employment of metaphors originates, in the outset of verbal and written correspondence among men, in absolute necessity and the sterility of language, as mankind would be unable to express the thoughts and feelings of the mind, except by an appeal to the analogies of physical nature. Hence the terms apprehend, imagine, abstract, which denote operations of the mind, are derived from those of external nature. And hence the Indian chief, in negotiating a treaty of peace with a neighboring tribe or nation with whom he had waged war, designates the termination of hostilities by the emblems of burying the hatchet, and the commencement of amicable relations by planting the tree of peace. In this case, no doubt, the negotiator is led to resort to these terms of pacification, partly by his incompetency to express the abstract ideas of terminating war and commencing a friendly intercourse in simple and plain language, and partly by that unaccountable pleasure which the imagination enjoys in tracing the analogies between moral and physical nature. Passing now from this state of penury in speech, in which our nomenclature is incompetent to the designation of the objects presented to the understanding, we confine our attention solely to figurative language as an ornament, or luxury, in our intellectual and literary life and enjoyment. How far are figures justly regarded as a beauty and advantage in composition, and when do they degenerate into a deformity?

As language is the vehicle of thought, and figures give form and decoration to that vehicle, in order to a right decision of the aforementioned queries, we must ascertain the principles upon which that vehicle is best constructed, and the degree of embellishment which will recommend it to a highly cultured taste. This similitude between speech and a vehicle of transportation, serves to suggest to us our first rule, in reference to the use of that ornament which is derived from images of fancy, viz.: that they serve more successfully to enforce and recommend the ideas. As the great purpose of a vehicle is to convey passengers, every principle of its construction, every decoration by which it is embellished, ought to be adapted to its convenience and facility of movement; and those which would tend to impede its progress, or lesson its accommodation to its uses, would become an injury instead of benefit. So is it in the ornaments which are allowed in writing or speaking. When we wish to compliment a statesman, who has distinguished himself in the councils of his country, and we say that he is one of the pillars of the republic, or brightest lights of her senate, certainly we have couched our encomiums in much more striking and impressive phraseology, than if we had gone out in pursuit of plain terms which conveyed the ideas, in the one case, that he distinguished himself in supporting the government, and, in the other, that he was remarkably able in communicating information and instruction to the senate. The fact is, that, independently of the considerations that these metaphors have

abridged our discourse, and delighted the mind by the play of fancy in tracing the resemblance between the statesman and a pillar that supports an edifice, and a bright light illuminating a scene, language, in its very organization, has neglected to supply us with words sufficiently numerous to express moral conceptions, or intellectual archetypes, without a resort to the convenience of figures. Figurative language, during the progress of man in improvement, has become so thoroughly incorporated into the most finished nomenclature, that it could not be dispensed with by any effort or contrivance of art. In testing its propriety or beauty, then, the simple inquiry is, does it recommend and improve the thought, render it more clear when perspicuity is needed, more strong when vigor is demanded, more beautiful when beauty is desirable, or more touching when pathos is requir ed? Let it ever be remembered, the great object of attention and solicitude in good writing, and that without which all other things are trifling, is the thoughts and figures of speech are useful only as they contribute to set these off to advantage. These are to writing what fine features and just proportions are to the human body. And as no superfluity or gaudy decorations in dress would recommend ugly features or a deformed person, so trivial, false, or worthless matter can never be rendered important or interesting to the intelligent part of mankind, by sparkling figures or the most imposing artifices of style. Our really valuable thoughts when unadorned are adorned the most. At all events, simple, chaste, and frugal ornaments in our writing, as in our apparel, are more truly delightful to a correct taste, than all the flounces and furbelows, the embroideries and jewelries, in the world. This maxim of rhetoric, upon which we are now insisting, cannot be too sedulously brought to view, or too vehemently urged upon wielders of the pen, in the present state of polite literature. The rage for decoration is epidemical, and most fatal to the fame of those who constitute the republic of letters. After nations have attained to full perfection in fine writing, there seems to be a natural tendency toward excessive refinement and meretricious ornaments.* Truth and nature may be regarded as a noble flock furnishing the richest fleece to mankind, but when a series of good writers have exhausted their fleece in weaving the fabrics of genius, their successors are tempted to have recourse to swine for a supply of materials; and we know, beside, that in this attempt, as in the rude dramas called moralities, in the middle ages, there is great cry and little wool; it is also liable to the objection, that no skill in the workmanship or adjustment in machinery can ever give it the beauty and perfection of that raw material which nature has appropriated to the purpose of clothing her favored offspring. Too many writers of the present day, instead of attempting to rival their predecessors in endeavoring to fabricate the genuine fleece derived from this flock of truth and nature into new and more exquisite form, are engaged in shearing the swine. In this labor they can obtain, at best, nothing more than erroneous principles of science, worthless paradoxes, unnatural fictions, tinsel poetry and prose, and unnumbered crudities.

* Dr. Johnson compares them to a cow yielding a supply of milk, which when mankind find exhausted, they milk the bull.

I have said that figures, to be legitimately used, must be a suitable clothing to our ideas, and give them greater clearness, force, and vivacity. We may discern the purpose they serve, and the intent with which they are introduced into the correspondence of mankind, more distinctly in that rude eloquence and song which prevail among the savage nations, than amidst the greater refinements and more polished intercourse of civilized life. Remark the advantages which flow from this source, in the speech of Logan, a celebrated Indian chief, as referred to by Mr. Jefferson, in his Notes upon Virginia, who, after having been long distinguished as the friend of white men, had been provoked to hostility by the murder of his wife and family. In the gratification of his revenge, says this author, he had signalized himself in the war which ensued. But in a decisive battle the Indians were defeated and sued for peace. Logan, however, disdained to be seen among the suppliants. But, lest the sincerity of the treaty should be distrusted, from which so distinguished a chief absented himself, he sent by a messenger the speech in which was contained the following expression, which portion only we quote as furnishing an illustration of our present subject: Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, 'Logan is the friend of white men.' I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not even sparing my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called

on me for revenge. I have sought it; I have killed many; I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one!' This is an excellent specimen of that rude and simple eloquence, which arises among a savage people, who are unfurnished with a variety of ideas, and among whom the qualities of bravery, magnanimity, and tenderness for their kindred, would be predominant, and become the principal traits of character which would confer distinction. How descriptively, by the use of figures, he exhibits his attachment to white men, the extirpation of his race, his revenge, his intrepidity, his magnanimity, and the desolation of his house? Instead of asserting simply that his countrymen accused him of partiality to the whites, he expresses the same idea with much more force and vivacity: My countrymen pointed as they passed, and exclaimed, Logan is the friend of white men.'' An ordinary sufferer would have been contented with complaining, that all his kindred were destroyed, but he more forcibly describes his loss, by affirming, 'There is not a drop of my blood running in the veins of any living creature.' The descriptions of the mode in which he glutted his revenge, and of his freedom from fear in desiring a peace, Logan would not turn on his heel to save his life,' are in a similar strain, and the concluding interrogatory and reply, 'Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one !' is more truly pathetic, than would be the most labored exaggeration of his desolate condition, and passionate exclamations of sorrow.

Having thus stated the point at which the employment of figures

becomes really advantageous to language and fine writing, and ascertained it to be discoverable as soon as they render it more clear, forcible, and impressive, I now proceed to give confirmation to the doctrine inculcated by more ample illustrations, derived from the best authorities. No circumstance more infallibly discloses to us nice perceptions of taste in a writer, than his judgment in determining when he should be contented with plain language, and when he should be figurative, and in his judiciously adapting the degree of ornament in his style to the nature of his topic. When rightly managed, figures give exquisite beauty to our productions; but when unskilfully introduced, consummate deformity. The most delicious sweets, used in undue proportions with our food and drink, soon become in a high degree offensive and disgusting. No writer was more abundant in the production of these beauties, than Shakspeare; and by their instrumentality he has embodied all the most virtuous sentiments of human nature, and the finest maxims of practical wisdom. By rendering the most abstract ideas and invisible feelings discernible to the eye, or perceptible to some of the senses through the types and shadows of his imagination, he has enabled the human mind to lay hold upon them, and engraved them in the memory, by indelible characters. What admirable lessons of female delicacy, for example, he inculcates, when in one place, he says,

"The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:'

And in another:

'She never told her love,

But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek. She pin'd in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at Grief.'

These passages not only nurture the female mind with admonitions of the most scrupulous delicacy and feminine virtue, but, also, in their rhetorical import, strongly delineate, by emblems drawn from outward objects, the inward sentiments, and strictly conform, moreover, to the course of nature in those operations to which they have reference. The moon is the more dim of the two great lights that rule the spheres, and even to her beams the modest maiden should not unmask her beauty. Concealed love does feed on the damask cheek, worms in budding flowers do prey upon and destroy them, and pining in thought in deep despair, does tinge the countenance with a green and yellow hue. Thus all the operations of the mental and bodily constitution of man are faithfully depicted. Here our indispensable requisite in fine writing, is suggested to us, that the lineaments of truth and nature must be truly sketched, else our productions are of no value, but partake the character of a sick man's dreams. On the other hand, what is it but their contrariety to nature, that renders the following conceits from the poets, quoted in the 'Art of Sinking in Poetry,' so excessively ridiculous, while minuter faults of the same kind will partake of a similar complexion, in pro