Like Autumn's dark storms pouring from two echoing hills, toward each other approached the heroes: as two dark streams from high rocks meet and roar on the plain, loud, rough, and dark in battle, meet Lochlin and Inisfail. Chief mixes his strokes with chief, and man with man: steel sounds on steel, and helmets are cleft on high: blood bursts and smokes around: strings murmur on the polish'd yew: darts rush along the sky spears fall like sparks of flame that gild the stormy face of night. As the noise of the troubled ocean when roll the waves on high, as the last peal of thundering heaven, such is the noise of battle. Though Cormac's hundred bards were there, feeble were the voice of a hundred bards to send the deaths to future time; for many were the deaths of the heroes, and wide poured the blood of the valiant.—Fingal. The following passage in the 4th book of the Iliad is a description of a battle, wonderfully ardent. "When now gathered on either side, the hosts plunged together in fight; shield is harshly laid to shield; spears crash on the brazen corslets; bossy buckler with buckler meets loud tumult rages over all; groans are mixed with boasts of men; the slain and slayer join in noise; the earth is floating round with blood. As when two rushing streams from two mountains come roaring down, and throw together their rapid waters below, they roar along the gulfy vale. The startled shepherd hears the sound, as he stalks o'er the distant hills; so, as they mixed in fight, from both armies clamour with loud terror arose." But such general descriptions are not frequent in Homer. Even his single combats are rare. The fifth book is the longest account of a battle that is in the Iliad; and yet contains nothing but a long catalogue of chiefs killing chiefs, not in single combat neither, but at a distance, with an arrow or a javelin; and these chiefs named for the first time and the last. The same scene is continued through a great part of the sixth book. There is at the same time a minute description of every wound, which for accuracy may do honour to an anatomist, but in an epic poem is tiresome and fatiguing. There is no relief from horrid languor but the beautiful Greek language, and melody of Homer's versification. In the twenty-first book of the Odyssey, there is a passage which deviates widely from the rule above laid down: it concerns that part of the history of Penelope and her suitors, in which she is made to declare in favour of him who should prove the most dexterous in shooting with the bow of Ulysses: Now gently winding up the fair ascent, Then o'er the pavement glides with grace divine There from the column where aloft it bung, Reach'd, in its splendid case, the bow unstrung. Virgil sometimes errs against this rule: in the following passages minute circumstances are brought into full view; and, what is still worse, they are described with all the pomp of poetical diction; Eneid, L. 1. l. 214. to 219. L. 6. l. 176. to 182. L. 6. l. 212. to 231.: and the last, which describes a funeral, is the less excusable, as the man, whose funeral it is, makes no figure in the poem. The speech of Clytemnestra, descending from her chariot in the Iphigenia of Euripides,* is stuffed with a number of common and trivial circumstances. But of all writers, Lucan, as to this article, is the most injudicious: the sea-fight between the Romans and Massilians,† is described so much in detail, without exhibiting any grand or total view, that the reader is fatigued with endless circumstances, without ever feeling any degree of elevation; and yet there are some fine incidents, those, for example, of the two brothers, and of the old man and his son, which, taken separately, would affect us greatly. But Lucan, once engaged in a description, knows no end. See other passages of the same kind, L. 4. l. 292. to 337. L. 4. l. 750. to 765. The episode of the sorceress Erictho, end of book 6. is intolerably minute and prolix. To these I venture to oppose an article from an old historical ballad : Go, little page, tell Hardiknute That lives on hill so high,t To draw his sword, the dread of foes, And haste to follow me. The little page flew swift as dart Flung by his master's arm, "Come down, come down, Lord Harkdiknute, And rid your king from harm." This rule is also applicable to other fine arts. In painting it is established, that the principal figure must be put in the strongest light; that the beauty of attitude consists in placing the nobler parts most in view, and in suppressing the smaller parts as much as pos sible; that the folds of the drapery must be few and large; that fore-shortenings are bad, because they make the parts appear little; and that the muscles ought to be kept as entire as possible, without being divided into small sections. Every one at present subscribes to that rule as applied to gardening, in opposition to paterres split into a thousand small parts in the stiffest regularity of figure. The most eminent architects governed themselves by the same rule in all their works. Another rule chiefly regards the sublime, though it is applicable to every sort of literary performance intended for amusement; and that is, to avoid as much as possible abstract and general terms. Such terms, similar to mathematical signs, are contrived to express our thoughts in a concise manner; but images, which are the life of poetry, cannot be raised in any perfection but by introducing * Beginning of act 3. + Lib. 3. beginning at line 567. + High, in the old Scotch language, is pronounced hes. particular objects. General terms that comprehend a number of individuals, must be excepted from that rule; our kindred, our clan, our country, and words of the like import, though they scarce. raise any image, have however a wonderful power over our passions: the greatness of the complex object overbalances the obscurity of the image. Grandeur, being an extreme vivid emotion, is not readily produced in perfection but by reiterated impressions. The effect of a single impression can be but momentary; and if one feel suddenly somewhat like a swelling or exaltation of mind, the emotion vanisheth as soon as felt. Single thoughts or sentiments, I know, are often cited as examples of the sublime; but their effect is far inferior to that of a grand subject displayed in its capital parts. I shall give a few examples, that the reader may judge for himself. In the famous action of Thermopyla, where Leonidas, the Spartan king, with his chosen band, fighting for their country, were cut off to the last man, a saying is reported of Dieneces, one of the band, which, expressing cheerful and undisturbed bravery, is well entitled to the first place in examples of that kind. Respecting the number of their enemies, it was observed, that the arrows shot by such a multitude would intercept the light of the sun. So much the better, says he, for we shall then fight in the shade.* Somerset. Ah! Warwick, Warwick, wert thou as we are, The Queen from France hath brought a puissant power, Warwick. Why, then I would not fly.—Third part, Henry VI. act 5. sc. 3. Such a sentiment from a man expiring of his wounds, is truly heroic, and must elevate the mind to the greatest height that can be done by a single expression: it will not suffer in a comparison with the famous sentiment Qu'l mourut of Corneille; the latter is a sentiment of indignation merely, the former of firm and cheerful courage. To cite in opposition many a sublime passage, enriched with the finest images, and dressed in the most nervous expressions, would scarce be fair I shall produce but one instance, from Shakspeare, which sets a few objects before the eye without much pomp of language: it operates its effect by representing these objects in a climax, raising the mind higher and higher till it feel the emotion of grandeur in perfection; The cloud-capt tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces, The cloud-cap't tow'rs produce an elevating emotion, heightened by the gorgeous palaces; a d the mind is carried still higher and higher by the images that follow. Successive images, making thus deeper and deeper impressions, must elevate more than any single image can do. As on the one hand, no means directly applied have more influence to raise the mind than grandeur and sublimity so on the *Herodotus, book 7. other, no means indirectly applied have more influence to sink and depress it for in a state of elevation the artful introduction of an humbling object, makes the fall great in proportion to the elevation. Of this observation Shakspeare gives a beautiful example, in the passage last quoted: The cloud-cap't tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces, Leave not a wreck behind.-Tempest, act 4. sc. 4. The elevation of the mind in the former part of this beautiful passage, makes the fall great in proportion, when the most humbling of all images is introduced, that of an utter dissolution of the earth and its inhabitants. The mind when warmed, is more susceptible of impressions than in a cool state and a depressing or melancholy object listened to, makes the strongest impression when it reaches the mind in its highest state of elevation or cheerfulness. : But a humbling image is not always necessary to produce that effect a remark is made above, that in describing superior beings, the reader's imagination, unable to support itself in a strained elevation, falls often as from a height, and sinks even below its ordinary tone. The following instance comes luckily in view; for a better cannot be given: "God said, Let there be light, and there was light." Longinus quotes this passage from Moses as a shining example of the sublime; and it is scarce possible, in fewer words, to convey so clear an image of the infinite power of the Deity: but then it belongs to the present subject to remark, that the emotion of sublimity raised by this image is but momentary and that the mind, unable to support itself in an elevation so much above nature, immediately sinks down into humility and veneration for a being so far exalted above grovelling mortals. Every one is acquainted with a dispute about that passage between two French critics,* the one positively affirming it to be sublime, the other as positively denying. What I have remarked shows that both of them have reached the truth, but neither of them the whole truth: the primary effect of the passage is undoubtedly an emotion of grandeur: which so far justifies Boileau: but then every one must be sensible that the emotion is merely a flash, which vanishing instantaneously, gives way to humility and veneration. That indirect effect of sublimity justifies Huet, who, being a man of true piety, and probably not much carried by imagination, felt the humbling passion more sensibly than his antagonist did. And, laying aside difference of character, Huet's opinion may, I think, be defended as the more solid; because in such images the depressing emotions are the more sensibly felt, and have the longer endurance. The straining an elevated subject beyond due bounds, is a vice not so frequent as to require the correction of criticism. But false sublime is a rock that writers of more fire than judgment commonly split on; and therefore a collection of examples may be of use as a beacon to future adventurers. One species of false sublime known by the name of bombast, is common among writers of a mean ge * Boileau and Huet. nius it is a serious endeavour, by strained description, to raise a low or familiar subject above its rank; which instead of being sublime, becomes ridiculous. I am extremely sensible how prone the mind is, in some animating passions, to magnify its objects beyond natural bounds: but such hyperbolical description has its limits; and, when carried beyond the impulse of the propensity, it degene rates into burlesque. Take the following examples. Sejanus. -Great and high The world knows only two, that's Rome and I. And at each step I feel my advanc'd head Knock out a star in heav'n.-Sejanus, Ben Jonson, act 5. A writer who has no natural elevation of mind, deviates readily into bombast: he strains above his natural powers; and the violent effort carries him beyond the bounds of propriety. Boileau expresses this happily: L'autre à peur de ramper, il se perd dans la nue." The same author, Ben Jonson, abounds in the bombast: -The mother, Th' expulsed Apicata, finds them there; Whom when she saw lie spread on the degrees, Tearing her hair, defacing of her face, Beating her breasts and womb, kneeling amaz'd, Defies their tyrannous powers, and demands What she and those poor innocents have transgress'd, That they must suffer such a share in vengeance.-Sejanus, act 5. sc. last. -Lentulus, the man, If all our fire were out, would fetch down new Out of the hand of Jove: and rivet him To Caucasus, should he but frown; and let His own gaunt eagle fly at him to tire.-Catiline, act 3. Can these, or such, be any aid to us? Look they as they were built to shake the world Or be a moment to our enterprise? A thousand, such as they are, could not make * L'art poet. chant. 1. 1. 58. |