sublimity. For the last two words form a close, having the first foot long, and measured by four times (a spondee); but if one syllable be taken away, what is left mars the grandeur of the period by dropping a part of it. As, conversely, if you lengthen the last word but one, by adding a syllable to the end, the signification is the same, but its effect upon the ear is not the same. For by lengthening the times of the two closing words, you dissolve and relax the sublime effect of the rapid cadence. But among the methods which conduce most to elevate discourse is that of putting together the parts, even as in the members of the body. If they are taken apart, each single member will have no beauty or grandeur; but when skillfully knit together, they produce a perfect and harmonious whole. So the constituent parts of sublime periods, when disjoined and scattered here and there without mutual connection, do at the same time dissipate and fritter away their sublimity; but when embodied in mutual fellowship, and, moreover, held together and encircled by the bond of harmony, they fall effectively upon the ear from their mere rotundity; and the sublimities in the several periods may be regarded as mutual contributions, which go to make up one sublime whole. But I have already said enough to show that many historians and poets, ungifted with sublime genius, and perhaps devoid of true greatness, though employing, for the most part, words that are common and vulgar and impart nothing of ornament, yet only by this manner of putting them together and connecting them, have invested their works with a kind of pomp and grandeur, and have escaped the imputation of meanness. Of this class, among many others, is Philistus; as also Aristophanes, in some passages, and Euripides in very many. Thus Hercules (Eurip. "Herc. Fur. »), after the murder of his children, cries: "I'm full of miseries; there's not room for more." The expression is very vulgar, but it is made sublime by the words being so constructed as to correspond with the thing signified; and if you were to put them together in another way, it will become apparent to you that Euripides is a poet in respect of the structure of his language, more than in the fineness of his sentiments. So in his description of Dirce dragged along by the bull: "Whene'er the madd'ning creature raged about And whirled his bulk around in awkward circles, The thought itself is noble, but is rendered still grander because the words are put together so as not to move rapidly, nor roll, as it were, down a declivity; but are mutually sustained, and shored up by means of pauses, acquiring a sort of staid grandeur by being thus kept apart. But nothing so much lowers the tone of sublimity as an over-nice and mincing rhythm, such as is formed by pyrrhics, trochees, and dichorees, which make a perfect jig of it. For all compositions whose rhythm is thus overwrought are manifestly affected and frivolous, and with all their pretension fail to move in the slightest degree, because they are of the same texture throughout. And a still worse effect is, that as ballads divert the hearers from the matter before them, and force attention to themselves, so also things spoken in a rhythm overwrought do not impress the hearers with the subject, but the rhythm, so that sometimes, foreknowing the cadences that should come, they themselves beat time to the speakers, and, as in a dance, anticipate them in the closing measure. In like manner, periods forced into too narrow a compass, and cut up into short words, and words of short syllabies, or that are bound together in an awkward and clumsy manner, as it were with nails, one upon another, are destitute of grandeur. Moreover, excessive contraction of style is another drawback to sublimity. For it mars the effect of sublimity when the words are forced into too contracted a compass. I do not mean here sentences that demand a proper conciseness; but, on the contrary, those that are curtailed and minced. For contraction mutilates the sense, but conciseness carries it direct to the mark. And it is manifest, on the other hand, that sentences unduly extended are deficient in life and energy; I mean such as are enervated by being lengthened out beyond what the occasion requires. Low and sordid words are serious blemishes to the sublime. For instance, Herodotus's description of the tempest is divine, so far as relates to the conceptions, but there are some expressions in it which fall below the dignity of the matter. This, perhaps, among others: «The sea seethed »; for the uncouth sound of the words, "sea seethed,” detracts much from the grandeur of the conception. Again, he says: "The wind flagged, and those who were overtaken by the storm met with a disagreeable end.» «To flag" is a mean and vulgar term; and "disagreeable» a word inappropriate to a disaster of such magnitude. In the sublime we ought never to take up with sordid and exploded terms, unless reduced to it by the most urgent necessity; but it were meet that our words should be proportioned to the dignity of our sentiments, and that we should imitate the proceeding of nature in the structure of the human fabric, who has not placed those parts which should be nameless in open view, nor the excretions from the whole body; but concealed them as much as possible, and "removed their channels" (to make use of Xenophon's words) "to the greatest distance from the eyes," thereby to preserve the beauty of the animal entire and unblemished. To pursue this topic further, by a particular recital of whatever diminishes and impairs the sublime, would be a needless task. I have already shown what methods elevate and ennoble, and it is obvious that their opposites must lower and debase it. In consideration of your desire for useful information, my dearest Terentianus, I shall not hesitate to add an elucidation of that remaining question which was recently proposed by a certain philosopher. "I wonder," said he, "and not I alone, but doubtless many others also, how it happens that in the age we live in there are many men eminently endowed with talents for persuasion and public speaking, remarkable for shrewdness and readiness, and above all, expert in the arts which give grace and sweetness to language; but that there are now none at all, or very few, who are distinguished for loftiness and grandeur of style. So great and universal is the dearth of genuine eloquence that prevails in this age. Must we believe at last that there is truth in that oft-repeated observation that democracy is the kindly nurse of sublime genius, with whose strength alone truly powerful orators flourish, and disappear as it declines? For liberty, say they, is able to supply nutriment to the lofty conceptions of great minds and feed their aspirations, and, at the same time, to foster the flame of mutual emulation and stimulate ambition for pre-eminence,- nay, further, that the mental excellences of orators are whetted continually by reason of the rewards proposed in free states; that they are made, as it were, to give out fire by collision, and naturally exhibit the light of liberty in their oratorical efforts. But we of the present day," continued he, "seem to be trained from our childhood to absolute slavery, having been all but swathed in its customs and institutes, and never allowed to taste of that most copious fountain of all that is admirable and attractive in eloquence- I mean liberty-and hence it is that we turn out to be nothing but pompous flatterers." This, he said, was the cause why we see that all other attainments may be found in menials, but never yet a slave become an orator. His spirit being effectually broken, the timorous vassal will still be uppermost; the habit of subjection continually overawes and beats down his genius. For, according to Homer (« Odyssey,” I. 322),— "Jove fixed it certain that whatever day Makes man a slave takes half his worth away.” "As then," said he, "if what I have heard deserves credit, the cages in which what are called pigmies are kept not only prevent the growth of those who are inclosed in them, but contract their dimensions by reason of the confinement in which their whole bodies are placed, so slavery of every kind, even the mildest, one might declare to be the cage and common prison of the mind." Now here I rejoined: It is easy and characteristic of human nature to find fault with the existing state of things, whatever it be; but I would have you consider whether, in some degree, this corruption of genius is not owing to the profound peace which reigns throughout the world, but much more to the well-known war which our lusts are waging within us universally; and, moreover, to those mental foes that have invaded the present age, and waste and ravage all before them. For avarice (that disease of which the whole world is sick beyond a cure), aided by voluptuousness, holds us in abject thraldom; or, rather, if I may so express it, drowns us body and mind. For the love of money is the canker of the soul's greatness, and the love of pleasure corrodes every generous sentiment. I have, indeed, thought much upon it; but, after all, judge it impossible for them that set their hearts upon; or, to speak more truly, that deify unbounded riches, to preserve their souls from the infection of all those vices which are firmly allied to them. For riches that know no bounds and restraint bring with them profuseness, their close-leagued and, as they call it, dogging attendant; and while wealth unbars the gates of cities, and opens the doors of houses, profuseness gets in at the same time and takes up a joint residence. And when they have remained awhile in our principles and conduct, they build their nests there (in the language of philosophy), and speedily proceeding to propagate their species, they hatch arrogance, pride, and luxury—no spurious brood, but their genuine offspring. If these children of wealth be fostered and suffered to reach maturity, they quickly engender in our souls those inexorable tyrants- insolence, injustice, and impudence. When men are thus fallen, what I have mentioned must needs result from their depravity. They can no longer lift up their eyes to anything above themselves, nor feel any concern for reputation; but the corruption of every principle must needs be gradually accomplished by such a series of vices; and the nobler faculties of the soul decay and wither, and lose all the fire of emulation, when men neglect the cultivation of their immortal parts, and suffer the mortal and worthless to engross all their care and admiration. For he that has received a bribe to pervert judgment is incapable of forming an unbiased and sound decision in matters pertaining to equity and honor. For it must needs be that one corrupted by gifts should be influenced by self-interest in judging of what is just and honorable. And when the whole tenor of our several lives is guided only by corruption, by a desire for the death of others, and schemes to creep into their wills; when we are ready to barter our life for paltry gains, led captive, one and all, by the thirst of lucre. -can we expect, in such a general corruption, so contagious a depravity that there should be found one unbiased and unperverted judge that can discriminate what is truly great, or will stand the test of time, uninfluenced in his decisions by the lust of gain? But if this is the case, perhaps it is better for such as we are to be held in subjection than to be free; for be sure if such rapacious desires were suffered to prey upon others without restraint, like wild |