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Example 3. So, also, the prophe' Habakkuk, in a similar passage; "He stood and measured the earth; he beheld, and drove asunder the nations. The everlasting mountains were scattered; the perpetual hills did bow; his ways are everlasting. The mountains saw thee; and they trembled. The overflowing of the water passed by. The deep uttered his voice, and lifted up his hands on high."

4. There is a passage in the Psalms, which deserves to be mentioned under this head. "God stilleth the noise of the seas, the noise of their waves, and the tumults of the people."

Analysis. The joining together two such grand objects, as the raging of the waters, and the tumults of the people, between which there is so much resemblance as to form a very natural association in the fancy, and the representing them both as subject, at one moment, to the command of God, produces a noble effect.

401. Homer is a poet, who, in all ages, and by all critics, has been greatly admired for sublimity; and he owes much of his grandeur to that native and unaffected simplicity, which characterizes his manner.

Illus. His descriptions of hosts engaging; the animation, the fire, and rapidity, which he throws into his battles, present, to every reader of the Iliad, frequent instances of sublime writing. His introduction of the gods, tends often to heighten, in a high degree, the majesty of his warlike scenes.

Example 1. Hence Longinus bestows such high and just commendations on that passage in the 15th Book of the Iliad, where Neptune, when preparing to issue forth into the engagement, is described as shaking the mountains with his steps, and driving his chariot along the

ocean.

2. Minerva, arming herself for fight, in the 5th Book; and Apollo, in the 15th, leading on the Trojans, and flashing terror with his ægis on the face of the Greeks; are similar instances of great sublimity added to the description of battles, by the appearances of those celestial beings.

3. In the 20th Book, where all the gods take part in the engagement, according as they severally favour either the Grecians or the Trojans, the poet's genius is signally displayed, and the description rises into the most awful magnificence. All nature is represented as in commotion. Jupiter thunders in the heavens; Neptune strikes the earth with his trident; the ships, the city, and the mountains shake; the earth trembles to its centre; Pluto starts from his throne, in dread, lest the secrets of the infernal regions should be laid open to the views

of mortals.

402. The works of Ossian abound with examples of the sublime. The subjects of which that author treats, and the manner in which he writes, are particularly favourable to it.

Illus. He possesses all the plain and venerable manner of the ancient times. He deals in no superfluous or gaudy ornaments; but throws forth his images with a rapid conciseness, which enables them to strike the mind with the greatest force. Among poets of more polished times, we are to look for the graces of correct writing, for just propor

tion of parts, and skilfully conducted narration. In the midst of smiling scenery and pleasurable themes, the gay and the beautiful will appear, undoubtedly, to more advantage. But amidst the rude scenes of nature and of society, such as Ossian describes; amidst rocks, and torrents, and whirlwinds, and battles, dwells the sublime; and there it naturally associates itself with that grave and solemn spirit, which distinguishes the author of Fingal.

403. Conciseness and simplicity are essential to sublime writing. Simplicity is opposed to studied and profuse orna ment; and conciseness, to superfluous expression.

Illus. We shall now explain why a defect, either in conciseness or simplicity, is hurtful, in a peculiar manner, to the sublime. The emotion occasioned in the mind by some great or noble object, raises it considerably above its ordinary pitch. A sort of enthusiasm is produced, extremely agreeable while it lasts; but from which the mind is tending every moment to fall into its ordinary situation. Now, when an author has brought us, or is attempting to bring us, into this state, if he multiplies words unnecessarily, if he decks the sublime object which he presents to us, round and round, with glittering ornaments; nay, if he throws in any one decoration that sinks in the least below the capital image, that moment he alters the key; he relaxes the tension of the mind; the strength of the feeling is emasculated; the beautiful may remain, but the sublime is gone.

Example 1. When Julius Cæsar said to the pilot, who was afraid to put to sea with him in a storm, "Quid times? Cæsarem vehis;" (Example 3, Art. 396.) we are struck with the daring magnanimity of one relying with such confidence on his cause and his fortune. These few words convey every thing necessary to give us the impression full.

2. Lucan resolved to amplify and adorn the thought. Observe how, every time he twists it round, it departs farther from the sublime, till it end at last in tumid declamation. In Rowe's translation the passage runs thus:

But Cæsar, still superior to distress,
Fearless, and confident of sure success,
Thus to the pilot loud :-The seas despise,
And the vain threatening of the noisy skies:
Though gods deny thee yon Ausonian strand,
Yet go, charge you, go at my command.
Thy ignorance alone can cause thy fears,

Thou know'st not what a freight thy vessel bears:
Thou know'st not I am he to whom 'tis given
Never to want the care of watchful heaven.
Obedient fortune waits my humble thrall,
And, always ready, comes before I call.

Let winds, and seas, loud wars at freedom wage,
And waste upon themselves their empty rage;
A stronger, mightier dæmon is thy friend,
Thou and thy bark on Cæsar's fate depend.
Thou stand'st amazed to view this dreadful scene,
And wonder'st what the gods and Fortune mean:
But artfully their bounties thus they raise,
And from my danger arrogate new praise:
Amidst the fears of death they bid me live,
And still enhance what they are sure to give."*

Sperne minas, inquit pelagi, ventoque furenti
Trade sinum Italiam, si, cœlo auctore, recusas,
Me, pete. Sola tibi causa hæc est justa timoris

404. On account of the great importance of simplicity and conciseness, rhyme, in English verse, if not inconsistent with the sublime, is at least very unfavourable to it. The constrained elegance of this kind of verse, and studied smoothness of the sounds, answering regularly to each other at the end of the line, though they be quite consistent with gentle emotions, yet weaken the native force of sublimity; besides, that the superfluous words which the poet is often obliged to introduce in order to fill up the rhyme, tend farther to enfeeble it.

Example. Homer's description of the nod of Jupiter, as shaking the heavens, has been admired in all ages as highly sublime. Literally translated, it runs thus: "He spoke, and bending his sable brows, gave the awful nod; while he shook the celestial locks of his immortal head, all Olympus was shaken."

Pope translates it thus:

He spoke; and awful bends his sable brows,
Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of a god.

High heaven with trembling the dread signal took,
And all Olympus to its centre shook.

Analysis. The image is spread out, and attempted to be beautified; but it is, in truth, weakened. The third line-" The stamp of fate, and sanction of a god," is merely repletive; and introduced for no other reason but to fill up the rhyme; for it interrupts the description, and clogs the image. For the same reason, out of mere compliance with the rhyme, Jupiter is represented as shaking his locks before he gives the nod; Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod," which is trifling, and without meaning. Whereas, in the original, the hair of his head shaken, is the effect of his nod, and makes a happy picturesque circumstance in the description.*

405. The boldness, freedom, and variety of our blank verse, are infinitely more favourable than rhyme can be to all kinds of sublime poetry. The fullest proof of this is afforded by Milton; an author whose genius led him eminently to the sublime. The whole first and second books of Paradise Lost, are continued instances of it.

Example. Take only for an example, the following noted description of Satan, after his fall, appearing at the head of the infernal hosts:

Victorem non posse tuum; quem numina nunquam
Destituunt; de quo male tunc Fortuna meretur
Cum post vota venit. Medias perrumpe procellas
Tutela secure mea. Cœli iste fretique

Non puppis nostræ labor est. Hanc Cæsare pressam
A fluctu defendet onus; nam proderit undis
Iste ratis: Quid tanta strage paratur
Ignoras; quærit pelagi cœlique tumultu
Quid præstet fortuna mihi.-Phars. V. 578.

*See Webb on the Beauties of Poetry.

He, above the rest,

In shape and gesture proudly eminent,
Stood like a tower: his form had not yet lost
All her original brightness, nor appeared
Less than archangel ruined, and the excess
Of glory obscured: as when the sun, new risen,
Looks through the horizontal misty air,
Shorn of his beams; or, from behind the moon,
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd so, yet shone
Above them all, th' archangel.

Analysis. Here concur a variety of sources of the sublime; the principal object eminently great; a high superior nature, fallen indeed, but erecting itself against distress; the grandeur of the principal object heightened, by associating it with so noble an idea as that of the sun suffering an eclipse; this picture, shaded with all those images of change and trouble, of darkness and terror, which coincide so finely with the sublime emotion; and the whole expressed in a style and versification, easy, natural, and simple, but magnificent.

406. Simplicity and conciseness are essential to sublime in writing; (Art. 403.) but strength is another necessary requisite. The strength of description arises, in a great measure, from a simple conciseness; but it supposes, also, something more; namely, a proper choice of circumstances in the description, so as to exhibit the object in its full and most striking point of view.

Illus. 1. For every object has several faces, so to speak, by which it may be presented to us, according to the circumstances with which it may be surrounded; and it will appear eminently sublime, or not, in proportion as all these circumstances are happily chosen, and of a sublime kind. Here lies the great art of the writer: and, indeed, the great difficulty of sublime description. If the description be too general, and divested of circumstances, the object appears in a faint light; it makes a feeble impression, or no impression at all, on the reader. At the same time, if any trivial or improper circumstances are mingled, the whole is degraded.

2. A storm or tempest, for instance, is a sublime object in nature. But, to render it sublime in description, it is not enough, either to give us mere general expressions concerning the violence of the tempest, or to describe its cominon vulgar effects, in overthrowing trees and houses. It must be painted with such circumstances as fill the mind with great and awful ideas.

Example. This is very happily done in the following passage.

The Father of the gods his glory shrouds,
Involved in tempests, and a night of clouds:
And from the middle darkness flashing out,
By fits he deals his fiery bolts about.
Earth feels the motions of her angry God,
Her entrails tremble, and her mountains nod,
And flying beasts in forests seek abode.
Deep horror seizes every human breast;
Their pride is humbled, and their fears confest:
While he from high his rolling thunder throws,
And fires the mountains with repeated blows;

The rocks are from their old foundations rent;
The winds redouble, and the rains augment.*

Dryden.

Analysis. Every circumstance in this noble description is the porduction of an imagination heated and astonished with the grandeur of the object.

407. The sublime depends upon a just selection of circumstances; and great care, in writing, that every circumstance be avoided, which, by bordering in the least upon the mean, or even upon the gay or the trifling, might alter the tone of the emotion.

Illus. 1. The proper sources of the sublime are to be looked for every where in nature. It is not by hunting after tropes and figures, and rhetorical assistances, that we can expect to produce it. No: it stands clear for the most part of these laboured refinements of art. It must come unsought, if it comes at all; and be the natural offspring of a strong imagination.

Est Deus in nobis ; agitante calesimus illo.

2. Wherever a great and awful object is presented in nature, or a very magnanimous and exalted affection of the human mind is displayed; thence, if you can catch the impression strongly, and exhibit it warm and glowing, you may draw the sublime. These are its only proper sources. In judging of any striking beauty in composition, whether it is or is not to be referred to this class, we must attend to the nature of the emotion which it raises; and only if it be of that elevating, solemn, and awful kind, which distinguishes this feeling, we can pronounce it sublime.

Scholium. From the account which has been given of the nature of the sublime, it clearly follows, that it is an emotion which can never be long protracted. The mind, by no force of genius, can be kept, for any considerable time, so far raised above its common tone; but will, of course, relax into its ordinary situation. Neither are the abilities of any human writer sufficient to furnish a long continuation of uninterrupted sublime ideas. The utmost we can expect, is, that this fire of imagination should sometimes flash upon us like lightning from heaven, and then disappear. In Homer and Milton, this effulgence of genius breaks forth more frequently, and with greater lustre, than in most au→ thors. Shakspeare also rises often into the true sublime. But no author whatever is sublime throughout. Some, indeed, there are, who, by a strength and dignity in their conceptions, and a current of high ideas that runs through their whole composition, preserve the reader's mind always in a tone nearly allied to the sublime; for which reason they may, in a limited sense, merit the name of continued sublime writers; and in this class we may justly place Demosthenes and Plato.

408. As for what is called the sublime style, it is, for the most part, a very bad one; and has no relation whatever to the real sublime.

* Ipse Pater, media nimborum in nocte, corusca
Fulmina molitur dextrâ ; quo maxima motu
Terra tremit; fugere feræ ; et mortalia corda
Per gentes humilis stravit pavor: ille flagranti
Aut Atho, aut Rodopen, aut alta Ceraunia telo
Dejicit.-

George L.

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