Thy strong conception, as when Bratas rose When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud For lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust; Book I. Scholia. 1. We have now enumerated a variety of instances, both in inanimate objects and in human life, where the sublime appears. In all these instances, the emotion raised in us is of the same kind, although the objects that produce the emotion be of widely different kinds 2. A question next arises, whether we are able to discover some one fundamental quality, in which all these, different objects agree, and which is the cause of their producing an emotion of the same nature in our minds? Various hypotheses have been formed concerning this. 3. Some have imagined that amplitude or great extent, joined with simplicity, is either immediately, or remotely, the fundamental quality of whatever is sublime; but we have seen that amplitude is confined to one species of sublime objects; and cannot, without violent straining, be applied to them all. 4. Again, terror has been supposed the source of the sublime, and that no objects have this character but such as produce impressions of pain and danger. It is indeed true, that many terrible objects are highly sublime; and that grandeur does not refuse an alliance with the idea of danger. But then this seems to stretch the theory too far; for the sublime does not consist wholly in modes of danger, or of pain. The proper sensation of sublimity appears to be distinguishable from the sensation of either of these; and, on several occasions, to be entirely separated from them. 5. In many grand objects, there is no coincidence with terror at all; as in the magnificent prospect of wide extended plains, and of the starry firmament; or in the moral dispositions and sentiments, which we view with high admiration; and in many painful and terrible objects also, it is clear, there is no sort of grandeur. The amputation of a limb, or the bite of a snake, are exceedingly terrible; but are destitute of all claim whatever to sublimity. 6. Mighty force or power, whether accompanied with terror or not, whether employed in protecting or in alarming us, has perhaps a better title than any thing that has yet been mentioned, to be the fundamental quality of the sublime; as, after the review which we have taken, there does not occur any sublime object, into the idea of which power, or strength, or force, does not enter, either directly, or, at least, íntimately associated with the idea, by leading our thoughts to some astonishing power, as concerned in the production of the object. CHAPTER V. THE SUBLIME IN WRITING. 398. HAVING treated of grandeur or sublimity in external objects, the way seems now to be cleared, for treating, with more advantage, of the description of such objects; or of what is called the sublime in writing. The foundation of the sublime in composition, must always be laid in the nature of the object described. Illus. 1. Unless it be such an object as, if presented to our eyes, if exhibited to us in reality, would raise ideas of that elevating, that awful, and magnificent kind, which we call sublime; the description, however finely drawn, is not entitled to come under this class. This excludes all objects that are merely beautiful, gay, or elegant. 2. In the next place, the object must not only, in itself, be sublime, but it must be set before us in such a light as is most proper to give us a clear and full impression of it; it must be described with strength, with conciseness, and simplicity. This depends principally upon the lively impression which the poet, or orator, has of the object which he exhibits; and upon his being deeply affected and warmed by the sublime idea which he would convey. If his own feeling be languid, he can never inspire us with any strong emotion. Instances, which are extremely necessary on this subject, will clearly show the importance of all the requisites which we have just now mentioned. 399. It is, generally speaking, among the most ancient authors, that we are to look for the most striking instances of the sublime. The early ages of the world, and the rude, unimproved state of society, are peculiarly favourable to the strong emotions of sublimity. Illus. The genius of men is then much turned to admiration and astonishment. Meeting with many objects, to them new and strange, their imagination is kept glowing, and their passions are often raised to the utmost. They think and express themselves boldly, and without restraint. In the progress of society, the genius and manners of men undergo a change more favourable to accuracy, than to strength or sublimity. (See Art. 31 and 32.) 400. Of all writings, ancient or modern, the sacred Scriptures afford us the highest instances of the sublime. The descriptions of the Deity, in them, are wonderfully noble; both from the grandeur of the object, and the manner of representing it. Example 1. What an assemblage, for instance, of awful and sublime ideas, is presented to us in that passage of the 18th Psalm, where an appearance of the Almighty is described! 2. "In my distress I called upon the Lord; he heard my voice out of his temple, and my cry came before him. Then the earth shook and trembled; the foundations also of the hills were moved; because he was wroth. He bowed the heavens and came down, and darkness was under his feet; and he did ride upon a cherub, and did fly; yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness his secret place; his pavilion round about him were dark waters, and thick clouds of the sky." Analysis. Here, agreeably to the principles established in Chapter IV., (Art. 394.) we see with what propriety and success the circumstances of darkness and terror are applied for heightening the sublime. Example 3. So, also, the prophet 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, Thou know'st not what a freight thy vessel bears: Let winds, and seas, loud wars at freedom wage, *Sperne minas, inquit pelagi, ventoque furenti 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, High heaven with trembling the dread signal took, 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 Non puppis nostræ labor est. Hanc Cæsare pressam * See Webb on the Beauties of Poetry. |