Читать книгу Farnsworth's Classical English Metaphor - Ward Farnsworth - Страница 6

Some years ago I made a study of how great writers and speakers of English have used ancient rhetorical devices as aids to eloquence. Improbably enough, the resulting book – Classical English Rhetoric – attracted a readership, drew some kind reviews, and went through several printings. Now the publisher has kindly consented to this sequel. Its topic is the art of comparison. The chapters that follow aim to show how metaphor has been put to use by masters of the art. The first book was about patterns for the arrangement of words; this one is mostly about patterns of thought. The change in focus is rewarding but calls for a different kind of attention. Whereas in Classical English Rhetoric one could see themes and resemblances on the verbal surface of the illustrations, in this book one also needs to look through the words to the comparative ideas they express. The goal is not just to see what the authors said. It is to see what they saw.

Despite the greater emphasis on ideas rather than words, this can be considered another book about rhetoric – that is, about the use of language to persuade or otherwise affect an audience. This book and its predecessor draw on the prose of similar times and places, and both were inspired in part by texts on rhetoric that were written for students of the subject in ancient Greece and Rome. Rhetoric now has a bad name; to many people it has come to mean bombast. I wish to help with the rehabilitation of the word, however, and to encourage its use in the honorable way that was common until recently – the sense of “rhetoric” that made it something for Lincoln to study and for Churchill to write about, and that caused it to be considered one of the liberal arts.

This book also involves matters that are of interest entirely apart from whatever rhetorical value they might have. They concern how our minds convert what we cannot directly say or perceive into what we can. Metaphor may be viewed as a language that we use to interpret and explain things to ourselves as well as to others. This book outlines an elementary vocabulary and grammar of one dialect of that language. The result may be useful to those who wish to improve their fluency in order to better communicate, but also to those who enjoy the language for its own sake. For rhetorical purposes – in other words, as a way of speaking to an audience – the noticeable use of metaphor must be sparing to be effective, and is wholly unsuitable for some occasions. But as a tool for thought and a subject for study, metaphor is available and interesting nearly all the time.

A metaphor can make unfamiliar things familiar, invisible things visible, and complicated things easier to understand. It can, as Aristotle said, give life to lifeless things. It can produce amusement by putting a subject into unexpected company. It can create feeling by borrowing it from the source to which the subject is compared. It can make a point riveting and memorable by the beauty of the comparison’s fit. It can make an insult or a compliment immortal. It can attract attention by the element of surprise. And it can do all this with wondrous economy, invoking a mass of imagery and meaning in a sentence or a single word.

A metaphor can serve as an aid to persuasion. A claim made by metaphor is not an immediate appeal to reason; it is an appeal to intuition, inviting the reader to directly perceive a similarity and its truth. Sometimes the appeal is implied rather than explicit, as when the comparison is woven into the choice of words rather than declared openly – and it may then be more effective for its subtlety. Decisions are made, and arguments won and lost, in the imagination and heart as often as in the mind, so the skilled practitioner of rhetoric uses comparisons to engage all those faculties. In The Scaffolding of Rhetoric (1897), Churchill spoke of the resulting power of analogy, by which he meant to include metaphor:

In spite of the arguments of the cynic the influence exercised over the human mind by apt analogies is and has always been immense. Whether they translate an established truth into simple language or whether they adventurously aspire to reveal the unknown, they are among the most formidable weapons of the rhetorician. The effect upon the most cultivated audience is electrical.

Lincoln likewise understood the levers of human decision and action, and left none of them unattended. He thus attacked slavery and the threat of secession not just with reason but with a metaphor borrowed from scripture: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”

These benefits of metaphor might be compared to other alternatives to the literal use of words. The author of a scientific argument in prose may pause to offer a mathematical model. The model is an alternative way to state a point; it simplifies and convinces. A metaphor can do the same (it, too, states an equation); and while it cannot prove a claim in the way that a mathematical model can, it may do more to persuade. Or put aside equations and think about the ways that literal language may be combined with pictures to express an idea. It is natural to imagine a spectrum: at one end is a photograph or painting, then a movie with words, then perhaps a graphic novel (fewer pictures, more words), then a book with periodic illustrations, then unadorned text. Metaphor can be viewed as belonging on this spectrum, too, but its placement is hard to pin down. It uses words but creates pictures. It can have features associated with any of the other items – the beauty of a painting, the drama of a short film, the clarity of a line drawing, the humor of a cartoon. Yet a metaphor is less conspicuous than any of those devices, and can be more powerful, because it masquerades as text.

Metaphors can serve deeper ends. Many important subjects cannot be described literally, at least not well. States of mind are like this, as are the sources and effects of language and other arts and many elements of spiritual life. They don’t just require pictures in order to be understood. They require comparisons, because they cannot be depicted literally in images or in words. A subject tends to defeat literal description when it is inaccessible to the senses; our words for what we can see are more extensive and refined than our words for what is intangible. Other truths and observations cannot be captured through a literal use of words simply because words and reality aren’t coextensive. The range and subtlety and feeling of what we wish to say outruns the labels that our language provides for the purpose. Comparisons free us from those limits. They allow a writer to use words not as labels to name a thing but as links that attach it to what we have known or seen or can imagine. The link summons pictures and other associations in the reader’s mind and rallies them to the descriptive purpose. A metaphor may, in short, express something that otherwise cannot quite be said or shown, and provide a way to understand it – possibly the only way.

Metaphors may serve, finally, as repositories of wisdom. Not always; many successful ones are merely picturesque, or useful, or funny. As we shall see, however, the finest creators of metaphor tend also to be the keenest students of humanity and of nature; that is much of why their metaphors are so fine. Metaphors also expose resemblances, and may suggest deeper affinities, between subjects that seem unrelated, the perception of which is another talent of the wise. The connoisseur of comparisons tends to see everything as a reminder or example of something else, and notices how particular things epitomize general ones: the military elephants of yore, for the harm that friends may do to their allies (ch. 3); the eye, on account of how it dilates and contracts (ch. 6); old Phalaris, because he turned the tables, and they were turned on him (ch. 10); fire, for countless features of its action and the behavior of people in response to it (passim). This book is partly a catalogue of such archetypes, as identified by those who have seen and stated them best.

Having said enough about the value of metaphor, let me now say what this book means to do with the subject. It is, first, a study of where figurative comparisons come from and what effects they have. The sources of effective metaphor are infinite in detail but not in type. Metaphors are built from families of material that may be examined distinctly – animals, nature, architecture, and other sources we will explore. The effects of metaphor are likewise various in their nuances but capable of being ordered. Sometimes metaphors make their subjects visible; sometimes they simplify; sometimes they are drawn for the sake of caricature. And some of those purposes are more readily served by one kind of metaphor than another, depending in turn on the subject in question. This book explores some patterns that have run between all these points in the work of talented writers: how materials from source X have been used to describe family of subjects Y and accomplish purpose Z.

Second, this book hopes to provide a better and different collection of comparisons than has yet been available to the student of them. Good metaphors are not usually the result of calculation and planning; they are made intuitively, just as they are consumed, and often well up from sources that seem half-conscious (as perhaps they are; we dream in metaphors). The process of educating the intuition and imagination is best carried out with light doses of theory and long immersion in examples. The book thus supplies illustrations in heaping quantities. It puts related cases near each other to invite comparisons of comparisons, to inspire the eye, and to suggest, in a short space, the range of uses that a given metaphorical idea may have.

Third, I have emphasized the utility of metaphor but the attractions of the subject can be simpler. Metaphors allow an indirect or sideways approach to many matters of philosophical or psychological interest; they also can teach a certain way of appreciating the world. But even when they do not offer those advantages, they can be delightful in themselves – a wholesome source of insight and entertainment that need not be further justified. The book may serve as a museum for those with a taste for such pleasures: a partial OED of metaphor, if you are the kind who approaches the OED to browse. That is a chief aim of this project and the most likely way it may be enjoyed. In the event that its pedagogical aims go unfulfilled or aren’t shared by the reader, they still serve as an excuse for spending time with the examples, which are fun and interesting to think about.

Readers who wish to get on with the substance can skip to the first chapter, with an admonition that the book is better approached arbitrarily than by going straight through. It is devised for the wandering reader. For those interested in a more detailed account of what this book includes and excludes, here are a few notes by way of explanation.

1. As noted at the outset, this is a sequel to Classical English Rhetoric, which discussed many rhetorical techniques but set aside metaphor and simile for their own treatment here. The two books follow the same model. This one, like the other, draws heavily on literature and oratory from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, though we will range a bit earlier and later as circumstances warrant. There is a mix of material from fiction and non-fiction, and from British, Irish, and American sources; we will see comparisons from speeches and arguments, essays and letters, novels and plays. Some gifted and canonical writers and talkers appear often. We should seek to learn from the best, which means Johnson and Melville and various other distinguished faculty in the permanent college of rhetoric. But we will hear from many other brilliant observers as well, including some who may be less familiar. Another goal of this book, besides those already mentioned, is to call attention to the work of some writers whose genius for comparison is not sufficiently known.

In sum, this is mostly a book about the use of figurative comparisons in English prose (though we will make occasional allowances, such as verse from Shakespeare or examples from the King James translation of the Bible – and there is a little French on the cover because the picture is apt). And it is the prose of certain times and places. This choice of scope has meant the sacrifice of many other worthy sources. Cases of metaphorical achievement might easily be drawn from poetry, most obviously, or from other languages or eras, sometimes with different results. Metaphors help to define the cultures in which they are spoken. If the use of metaphor in our own time is chronicled someday, comparisons to plots and characters from movies, television shows, and sports will no doubt be prominent. But this book is long enough as it is, and in my judgment the sources treated here deserve examination of their own. In many respects they represent a golden age of rhetorical achievement.

There is an additional reason why older sources have an advantage for our purposes. Some of the traditions that we shall see depend on the author’s familiarity with animals, or nature, or mythology. Many people who use words in public live further from those subjects and know less about them than their counterparts did one or two hundred years ago. Their audiences know less about them, too, partly because they live different sorts of lives, partly because the aims of formal education have changed, and partly because writers want to reach a wider range of people than they once did. All this has caused some of the themes illustrated in this book to become endangered. Certain applications may even be considered extinct. To appreciate what those traditions made possible, it is well to seek instruction from writers who were on closest terms with them. We have to go back a bit.

The writers considered here also have something to teach about style. This book is less focused on phrasing than its predecessor was, but the success of a comparison still depends in significant part on the choice and order of the words used to state it. A metaphor tries to create a little event in the mind of the reader – a mental picture, a surprise, a new idea, or all these at once. Getting it right takes a sense of timing and a skill with the paintbrush that has become more scarce. Or so it seems to me; but even if what earlier writers knew about words was no better than what anyone knows today, and even if some features of their styles seem unavailable to us now, their knowledge and instincts were different, and the differences create a chance to learn.

Citations to Shakespeare in the text don’t mention his name. I am betting that readers will know who wrote Hamlet when they see it named, and so for his other plays. In any event, a citation to a source without an author is usually to Shakespeare or to the Bible.

2. The title of the book and some of the comments just made have used the word “metaphor” to refer to figurative comparisons in general. The word will bear that meaning but is also commonly used in a more specific way: a metaphor is a comparison, often implied, in which one thing is equated with another (“all the world’s a stage”), whereas a simile makes the comparison explicit by saying that one thing is like another or using similar language (“he doth bestride the narrow world/Like a Colossus”). The differences between metaphor and simile are discussed in Chapters 13 and 14, but most of the book presents those two kinds of comparisons side by side without fussing over the distinction between them. This may surprise readers who were taught in school to regard the difference between metaphor and simile as the most important point to know about comparisons. That distinction can have definite practical significance, but I do not regard it as the most important idea about our subject; it was a distinction largely ignored in ancient times. Starting with those last two chapters will do no harm, however, if that is where the curiosity of the reader lies; they could as easily have been at the start of the book as at the end. My own interest in the matters discussed there is unlimited, but then my patience for every division of this subject is greater than average.

Occasional comparisons in this book might be considered neither metaphors nor similes because they are not sufficiently figurative in character. A figurative comparison proposes a similarity or identity between two things that appear different in kind, such as a politician and a pig; a comparison of two pigs would not be figurative. We will not trouble ourselves much about that line between those categories here, or about other issues in the theory and philosophy of metaphor. There is a vast and excellent literature on those topics already, and the aim of this book is to do some things not yet done. Let us take as our topic the rhetorical use of comparisons, which typically will have a non-literal component, and be content also to learn from less figurative but effective cases as they may appear from time to time in the pages that follow.

3. Many metaphors are bound up in the etymology of individual words or idioms so common that their figurative character has been forgotten: “running late,” “catching a plane,” and so forth. We will not be concerned with this category, however worthwhile it may be. Some argue that most or all language is metaphorical at bottom, or that most understanding arises from metaphor – still more propositions that have received impressive treatment elsewhere and are outside our scope here. Nor is this book concerned with highly extended metaphors; there are examples from Moby-Dick but the whale is not among them. Our concern is with comparisons that are intermediate in scale – the kind put forward in nothing longer than a paragraph. This focus has its drawbacks. It can cause something less than the full context of a comparison to be presented. To see the entire significance of a metaphor, and to fully judge its fit, may take pages or chapters or a book, and here the sentence is our principal unit of measure. But sentences still provide much to consider, and confining ourselves to brief examples will let each of our subjects be seen from several angles in a short space.

4. I have in general abstained from commenting on individual illustrations. Explanations of metaphors, I have come to feel, are perilously similar to explanations of jokes. Indeed, the metaphor and the joke are cousins with similarities in their frequent use of surprise, in the collisions they create between things with different proportions and status, and in the ways that the truths they express, and the reactions they provoke, can be, as already noted, half-conscious and deceptively profound. Philosophers have noted other similarities as well, but here I am especially concerned with a practical one: a metaphor usually repays contemplation better than it repays analysis or (as in E. B. White’s remark) dissection. The first chapter and the introductions to the others in this book will therefore offer general claims and ideas. In most cases the selection and arrangement of the examples that follow must largely speak for themselves, perhaps with a few observations before or after each set.

5. The theory of this book has been stated but the execution of it is loose. Sometimes examples appear where consideration of them seems most convenient even if they are outside the strict topic of the chapter or heading; they may then be introduced with a “cf.” – meaning “compare (this related example).” This will give no trouble to the reader who understands the organization as just a means to an end: seeing and understanding the range of wonders that rhetorical artists have worked with comparisons. It is an unruly subject that calls for a flexible approach. Maybe a more fitting simile than a museum is a safari in which we will veer from the path as needed to get good views. Any order will do, or almost any: as noted earlier, the book really is not written to be read from front to back; it is meant to invite dedicated but arbitrary perusal (though the first chapter does provide some orientation for the rest). More important than the sequence is the pace, which is best kept leisurely. A well-conceived metaphor usually takes more time to appreciate than a literal sentence, and is worth it.

For comments, suggestions, examples, and good counsel, I wish to thank Kamela Bridges, Daniel Dickson-LaPrade, Bryan Garner, David Godine, David Greenwald, Andrew Kull, Richard Lanham, Michael Lusi, Susan Morse, Brian Perez-Daple, Christopher Ricks, Wayne Schiess, Thomas Stumpf, Jeffrey Walker, and the many rhetoric students, research assistants, and librarians over the years who have contributed to the book in one way or another. Carl W. Scarbrough created the jacket and designed the text with his usual and consummate skill.

Austin, July 2015