love-scene. Hemon talks to his mistress of the torments of absence, of
the lustre of her eyes, that he ought to die no where but at her feet,
and that one moment of absence was a thousand years. Antigone on her
part acts the coquette, and pretends she must be gone to wait on her
mother and brother, and cannot stay to listen to his courtship. This is
odious French gallantry, below the dignity of the passion of love. It
would scarce be excusable in painting modern French manners; and is
insufferable where the ancients are brought upon the stage. The manners
painted in the _Alexandre_ of the same author are not more just. French
gallantry prevails there throughout.
* * * * *
Third. Sentiments that agree not with the tone of the passion; as where
a pleasant sentiment is grafted upon a painful passion, or the
contrary. In the following instances the sentiments are too gay for a
serious passion.
No happier talk these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.
_Eloisa to Abelard, l. 47._
Again,
Heav’n first taught letters for some wretch’s aid,
Some banish’d lover, or some captive maid;
They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires;
The virgin’s wish without her fears impart,
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart;
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole.
_Eloisa to Abelard, l. 51._
These thoughts are pretty; they suit Pope extremely, but not Eloisa.
* * * * *
Satan, enraged by a threatening of the angel Gabriel, answers thus:
Then when I am thy captive talk of chains,
Proud limitary cherub; but ere then
Far heavier load thyself expect to feel
From my prevailing arm, though Heaven’s King
Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers,
Us’d to the yoke, draw’st his triumphant wheels
In progress through the road of heav’n _star-pav’d_.
_Paradise Lost, book 4._
The concluding epithet forms a grand and delightful image, which cannot
be the genuine offspring of rage.
* * * * *
Fourth. Sentiments too artificial for a serious passion. I give for the
first example a speech of Piercy expiring:
O, Harry, thou hast robb’d me of my growth:
I better brook the loss of brittle life,
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me;
They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword my flesh.
But thought’s the slave of life, and life time’s fool;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop.
_First part, Henry IV. act 5. sc. 9._
Livy inserts the following passage in a plaintive oration of the
Locrenses accusing Pleminius the Roman legate of oppression.
“In hoc legato vestro, nec hominis quicquam est, Patres Conscripti,
præter figuram et speciem; neque Romani civis, præter habitum
vestitumque, et sonum linguæ Latinæ. Pestis et bellua immanis,
quales fretum, quondam, quo ab Sicilia dividimur, ad perniciem
navigantium circumsedisse, fabulæ ferunt[53].”
Congreve shows a fine taste in the sentiments of the _Mourning Bride_.
But in the following passage the picture is too artful to be suggested
by severe grief:
_Almeria._ O no! Time gives increase to my afflictions.
The circling hours, that gather all the woes
Which are diffus’d through the revolving year,
Come heavy-laden with th’ oppressing weight
To me; with me, successively, they leave
The sighs, the tears, the groans, the restless cares,
And all the damps of grief, that did retard their flight,
They shake their downy wings, and scatter all
The dire collected dews on my poor head;
Then fly with joy and swiftness from me.
_Act 1. sc. 1._
In the same play, Almeria seeing a dead body, which she took to be
Alphonso’s, expresses sentiments strained and artificial, which nature
suggests not to any person upon such an occasion:
Had they, or hearts, or eyes, that did this deed?
Could eyes endure to guide such cruel hands?
Are not my eyes guilty alike with theirs,
That thus can gaze, and yet not turn to stone?
--I do not weep! The springs of tears are dry’d,
And of a sudden I am calm, as if
All things were well; and yet my husband’s murder’d!
Yes, yes, I know to mourn! I’ll sluice this heart,
The source of wo, and let the torrent loose.
_Act 5. sc. 11._
_Lady Trueman._ How could you be so cruel to defer giving me that
joy which you knew I must receive from your presence? You have
robb’d my life of some hours of happiness that ought to have been
in it.
_Drummer, act 5._
Pope’s Elegy to the memory of an unfortunate lady, expresses delicately
the most tender concern and sorrow for the deplorable fate of a person
of worth. A poem of this kind, deeply serious and pathetic, rejects all
fiction with disdain. We therefore can give no quarter to the following
passage, which is eminently discordant with the subject. It is not the
language of the heart, but of the imagination indulging its flights at
ease. It would be a still more severe censure, if it should be ascribed
to imitation, copying indiscreetly what has been said by others.
What though no weeping loves thy ashes grace,
Nor polish’d marble emulate thy face?
What though no sacred earth allow thee room,
Nor hallow’d dirge be muttered o’er thy tomb?
Yet shall thy grave with rising flow’rs be drest,
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:
There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,
There the first roses of the year shall blow;
While angels with their silver wings o’ershade
The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made.
Fifth. Fanciful or sinical sentiments, sentiments that degenerate into
point or conceit, however they may amuse in an idle hour, can never be
the offspring of any serious or important passion. In the _Ierusalem_
of Tasso, Tancred, after a single combat, spent with fatigue and loss of
blood, falls into a swoon. In this situation, understood to be dead, he
is discovered by Erminia, who was in love with him to distraction. A
more happy situation cannot be imagined, to raise grief in an instant to
its highest pitch; and yet, in venting her sorrow, she descends most
abominably to antithesis and conceit, even of the lowest kind.
E in lui versò d’inessicabil vena
Lacrime, e voce di sospiri mista.
In che misero punto hor qui me mena
Fortuna? a che veduta amara e trista?
Dopo gran tempo i’ ti ritrovo à pena
Tancredi, e ti riveggio, e non son vista,
Vista non son da te, benche presente
E trovando ti perdo eternamente.
_Cant. 19. st. 105._
Armida’s lamentation respecting her lover Rinaldo[54], is in the same
vitious taste.
_Queen._ Give me no help in lamentation,
I am not barren to bring forth complaints:
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern’d by the wat’ry moon,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world.
Ah, for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward.
_King Richard III. act 2. sc. 2._
_Jane Shore._ Let me be branded for the public scorn,
Turn’d forth, and driven to wander like a vagabond,
Be friendless and forsaken, seek my bread
Upon the barren wild, and desolate waste,
_Feed on my sighs, and drink my falling tears_;
Ere I consent to teach my lips injustice,
Or wrong the orphan who has none to save him.
_Jane Shore, act 4._
Give me your drops, ye soft-descending rains,
Give me your streams, ye never-ceasing springs,
That my sad eyes may still supply my duty,
And feed an everlasting flood of sorrow.
_Jane Shore, act 5._
Jane Shore utters her last breath in a witty conceit.
Then all is well, and I shall sleep in peace----
’Tis very dark, and I have lost you now----
Was there not something I would have bequeath’d you?
But I have nothing left me to bestow,
Nothing but one sad sigh. Oh mercy, Heav’n! [_Dies._
_Act 5._
Gilford to Lady Jane Gray, when both were condemned to die:
Thou stand’st unmov’d;
Calm temper sits upon thy beauteous brow;
Thy eyes that flow’d so fast for Edward’s loss,
Gaze unconcern’d upon the ruin round thee,
As if thou hadst resolv’d to brave thy fate,
And triumph in the midst of desolation.
Ha! see, it swells, the liquid crystal rises,
It starts in spight of thee---- but I will catch it,
Nor let the earth be wet with dew so rich.
_Lady Jane Gray, act 4. near the end._
The concluding sentiment is altogether sinical, unsuitable to the
importance of the occasion, and even to the dignity of the passion of
love.
* * * * *
Corneille, in his _Examen of the Cid_[55], answering an objection, that
his sentiments are sometimes too much refined for persons in deep
distress, observes, that if poets did not indulge sentiments more
ingenious or refined than are prompted by passion, their performances
would often be low; and extreme grief would never suggest but
exclamations merely. This is in plain language to assert, That forced
thoughts are more relished than such as are natural, and therefore ought
to be preferred.
* * * * *
The second class is of sentiments that may belong to an ordinary
passion, but are not perfectly concordant with it, as tinctured by a
singular character. In the last act of that excellent comedy, _The
Careless Husband_, Lady Easy, upon Sir Charles’s reformation, is made to
express more violent and turbulent sentiments of joy, than are
consistent with the mildness of her character.
_Lady Easy._ O the soft treasure! O the dear reward of
long-desiring love---- Thus! thus to have you mine, is something
more than happiness, ’tis double life, and madness of abounding
joy.
If the sentiments of a passion ought to be suited to a peculiar
character, it is still more necessary that sentiments devoid of passion
be suited to the character. In the 5th act of the _Drummer_, Addison
makes his gardener act even below the character of an ignorant credulous
rustic: he gives him the behaviour of a gaping idiot.
* * * * *
The following instances are descriptions rather than sentiments, which
compose a third class.
Of this descriptive manner of painting the passions, there is in the
_Hippolytus_ of Euripides, act 5. an illustrious instance, _viz._ the
speech of Theseus, upon hearing of his son’s dismal exit. In Racine’s
tragedy of _Esther_, the Queen hearing of the decree issued against her
people, instead of expressing sentiments suitable to the occasion, turns
her attention upon herself, and describes with accuracy her own
situation.
Juste Ciel? Tout mon sang dans mes veines se glace.
_Act 1. sc. 3._
Again,
_Aman._ C’en est fait. Mon orgueil est forcé de plier,
L’inexorable Aman est reduit a prier.
_Esther, act 3. sc. 5._
_Athalie._ Quel prodige nouveau me trouble et m’embarrasse?
La douceur de sa voix, son enfance, sa grace,
Font insensiblement à mon inimitié
Succéder---- Je serois sensible a la pitié?
_Athalie, act 2. sc. 7._
_Titus._ O de ma passion fureur desesperée!
_Brutus of Voltaire, act 3. sc. 6._
What other are the foregoing instances than describing the passion
another feels?
* * * * *
An example is given above of remorse and despair expressed by genuine
and natural sentiments. In the fourth book of _Paradise Lost_, Satan is
made to express his remorse and despair in sentiments, which though
beautiful, are not altogether natural. They are rather the sentiments of
a spectator, than of a person who actually is tormented with these
passions.
The fourth class is of sentiments introduced too early or too late.
Some examples mentioned above belong to this class. Add the following
from _Venice preserv’d_, act 5. at the close of the scene betwixt
Belvidera and her father Priuli. The account given by Belvidera of the
danger she was in, and of her husband’s threatening to murder her, ought
naturally to have alarmed her relenting father, and to have made him
express the most perturbed sentiments. Instead of which he dissolves
into tenderness and love for his daughter, as if he had already
delivered her from danger, and as if there were a perfect tranquillity.
Canst thou forgive me all my follies past?
I’ll henceforth be indeed a father; never,
Never more thus expose, but cherish thee,
Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life,
Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o’er thee:
Peace to thy heart.
Immoral sentiments exposed in their native colours, instead of being
concealed or disguised, compose the fifth class.
* * * * *
The Lady Macbeth projecting the death of the King, has the following
soliloquy:
---- The raven himself’s not hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come all you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to th’ toe, top-full
Of direct cruelty; make thick my blood,
Stop up th’ access and passage to remorse
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose.
_Macbeth, act 1. sc. 7._
This speech is not natural. Murder under trust was never perpetrated
even by the most hardened miscreant without compunction. And that the
lady here must have been in horrible agitation appears, from her
invoking the infernal spirits to fill her with cruelty, and to stop up
all avenues to remorse. But in this state of mind, it is a never-failing
device of self-deceit, to draw the thickest veil over the wicked action,
and to extenuate it by all circumstances that imagination can suggest.
And if the crime cannot bear disguise, the next attempt is, to thrust it
out of mind altogether, and to rush on to action without thought. This
last was the husband’s method.
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
Which must be acted, ere they must be scann’d.
_Act 3. sc. 5._
The lady follows neither of these courses, but in a deliberate manner
endeavours to fortify her heart in the commission of an execrable crime,
without even attempting a disguise. This I think is not natural. I hope
there is no such wretch to be found, as is here represented. In the
_Pompey_ of Corneille[56], Photine counsels a wicked action in the
plainest terms without disguise.
Seigneur, n’attirez point le tonnerre en ces lieux,
Rangez-vous du parti des destins et des dieux,
Et sans les accuser d’injustice, ou d’outrage,
Puis qu’ils font les heureux, adorez leur ouvrage;
Quels que soient leurs decrets, déclarez-vouz pour eux,
Et pour leur obéir, perdez le malheureux.
Pressé de toutes parts des coléres celestes,
Il en vient dessus vous faire fondre les restes;
Et sa tête qu’à peine il a pû dérober,
Tout prête de choir, cherche avec qui tomber.
Sa retraite chez vous en effet n’est qu’un crime;
Elle marque sa haine, et non pas son estime;
Il ne vient que vous perdre en venant prendre port,
Et vous pouvez douter s’il est digne de mort!
Il devoit mieux remplir nos vœux et notre attente,
Faire voir sur ses nefs la victoire flotante;
Il n’eût ici trouvé que joye et que festins,
Mais puisqu’il est vaincu, qu’il s’en prenne aux destins
J’en veux à sa disgrace et non à sa personne,
J’exécute à regret ce que le ciel ordonne,
Et du même poignard, pour César destiné,
Je perce en soupirant son cœur infortuné.
Vouz ne pouvez enfin qu’aux dépens de sa tête
Mettre à l’abri la vôtre et parer la tempête.
Laissez nommer sa mort un injuste attentat,
La justice n’est pas une vertu d’etat.
Le choix des actions, ou mauvaises, ou bonnes,
Ne fait qu’anéantir la force des couronnes;
Le droit des rois consiste à ne rien épargner;
La timide équité détruit l’art de regner,
Quand on craint d’être injuste on a toûjours à craindre,
Et qui veut tout pouvoir doit oser tout enfraindre,
Fuir comme un deshonneur la vertu qui le pert,
Et voler sans scrupule au crime qui lui fert.
In the tragedy of _Esther_[57], Haman acknowledges, without disguise,
his cruelty, insolence, and pride. And there is another example of the
same kind in the _Agamemnon_ of Seneca[58]. In the tragedy of
_Athalie_[59], Mathan, in cool blood, relates to his friend many black
crimes he had been guilty of to satisfy his ambition.
* * * * *
In Congreve’s _Double-dealer_, Maskwell, instead of disguising or
colouring his crimes, values himself upon them in a soliloquy:
Cynthia, let thy beauty gild my crimes; and whatsoever I commit of
treachery or deceit, shall be imputed to me as a merit.----
Treachery! what treachery? Love cancels all the bonds of
friendship, and sets men right upon their first foundations.
_Act 2. sc. 8._
In French plays, love, instead of being hid or disguised, is treated as
a serious concern, and of greater importance than fortune, family, or
dignity. I suspect the reason to be, that in the capital of France,
love, by the easiness of intercourse, has dwindled down from a real
passion to be a connection that is regulated entirely by the mode or
fashion[60]. This may in some measure excuse their writers, but will
never make their plays be relished among foreigners.
_Maxime._ Quoi, trahir, mon ami!
_Euphorbe._---- L’amour rend tout permis, Un véritable amant ne
connoît point d’amis.
_Cinna, act 3. sc. 1._
_Cesar._ Reine, tout est paisible, et la ville calmée,
Qu’un trouble assez leger avoit trop alarmée,
N’a plus à redouter le divorce intestin
Du soldat insolent, et du peuple mutin.
Mais, ô Dieux! ce moment que je vous ai quittée,
D’un trouble bien plus grand à mon ame agitée,
Et ces soins importuns qui m’arrachoient de vous
Contre ma grandeur même allumoient mon courroux.
Je lui voulois du mal de m’être si contraire,
De rendre ma presence ailleurs si necessaire.
Mais je lui pardonnois au simple souvenir
Du bonheur qu’a ma flâme elle fait obtenir.
C’est elle dont je tiens cette haute espérance,
Qui flate mes desirs d’une illustre apparence,
Et fait croire à Cesar qu’il peut former de vœux,
Qu’il n’est pas tout-à-fait indigne de vos feux,
Et qu’il peut en pretendre une juste conquête,
N’ayant plus que les Dieux au dessus de sa tête.
Oui, Reine, si quelqu’un dans ce vaste univers
Pouvoit porter plus haut la gloire de vos fers;
S’il étoit quelque trône où vous puissiez paroître
Plus dignement assise en captivant son maître,
J’irois, j’irois à lui, moins pour le lui ravir,
Que pour lui disputer le droit de vous servir;
Et je n’aspirerois au bonheur de vous plaire,
Qu’aprés avoir mis bas un si grand adversaire.
C’etoit pour acquerir un droit si précieux,
Que combatoit par tout mon bras ambitieux,
Et dans Pharsale même il a tiré l’epée
Plus pour le conserver, que pour vaincre Pompée.
Je l’ai vaincu, Princesse, et le Dieu de combats
M’y favorisoit moins que vos divins appas.
Ils conduisoient ma main, ils enfloient mon courage,
Cette pleine victoire est leur dernier ouvrage,
C’est l’effet des ardeurs qu’ils daignoient m’inspirer;
Et vos beaux yeux enfin m’ayant fait soûpirer,
Pour faire que votre ame avec gloire y réponde,
M’ont rendu le premier, et de Rome, et du monde;
C’est ce glorieux titre, à présent effectif,
Que je viens ennoblir par celui de captif;
Heureux, si mon ésprit gagne tant sur le vôtre,
Qu’il en estime l’un, et me permette l’autre.
_Pompée, act 4. sc. 3._
The last class comprehends sentiments that are unnatural, as being
suited to no character nor passion. These may be subdivided into three
branches: first, sentiments unsuitable to the constitution of man and
the laws of his nature; second, inconsistent sentiments; third,
sentiments that are pure rant and extravagance.
* * * * *
When the fable is of human affairs, every event, every incident, and
every circumstance, ought to be natural, otherwise the imitation is
imperfect. But an imperfect imitation is a venial fault, compared with
that of running cross to nature. In the _Hippolytus_ of Euripides[61],
Hippolytus, wishing for another self in his own situation, How much
(says he) should I be touched with his misfortune! as if it were natural
to grieve more for the misfortunes of another than for one’s own.
_Osmyn._ Yet I behold her--yet--and now no more.
Turn your lights inward, Eyes, and view my thought,
So shall you still behold her--’twill not be.
O impotence of sight! mechanic sense
Which to exterior objects ow’st thy faculty,
Not seeing of election, but necessity.
Thus do our eyes, as do all common mirrors,
Successively reflect succeeding images.
Nor what they would, but must; a star or toad;
Just as the hand of Chance administers!
_Mourning Bride, act 2. sc. 8._
No man, in his senses, ever thought of applying his eyes to discover
what passes in his mind; far less of blaming his eyes for not seeing a
thought or idea. In Moliere’s _L’Avare_[62], Harpagon being robbed of
his money, seizes himself by the arm, mistaking it for that of the
robber. And again he expresses himself as follows:
Je veux aller querir la justice, et faire donner la question à
toute ma maison; à servantes, à valets, à fils, à fille, et à moi
aussi.
This is so absurd as scarce to provoke a smile if it be not at the
author.
* * * * *
Of the second branch the following are examples.
---- Now bid me run
And I will strive with things impossible,
Yea get the better of them.
_Julius Cæsar, act 2. sc. 3._
Vos mains seules ont droit de vaincre un invincible.
_Le Cid, act 5. sc. last._
Que son nom soit beni. Que son nom soit chanté.
Que l’on celebre ses ouvrages
Au de la de l’eternité.
_Esther, act 5. sc. last._
Me miserable! which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is hell: myself am hell:
And in the _lowest_ deep, a _lower_ deep
Still threat’ning to devour me, opens wide;
To which, the hell I suffer seems a heav’n.
_Paradise Lost, book 4._
Of the third branch, take the following samples.
* * * * *
Lucan, talking of Pompey’s sepulchre,
---- Romanum nomen, et omne
Imperium Magno est tumuli modus. Obrue saxa
Crimine plena deûm. Si tota est Herculis Oete,
Et juga tota vacant Bromio Nyseia; quare
Unus in Egypto Magno lapis? Omnia Lagi
Rura tenere potest, si nullo cespite nomen
Hæserit. Erremus populi, cinerumque tuorum,
Magne, metu nullas Nili calcemus arenas.
_L. 8. l. 798._
Thus in Rowe’s translation:
Where there are seas, or air, or earth, or skies,
Where-e’er Rome’s empire stretches, Pompey lies.
Far be the vile memorial then convey’d!
Nor let this stone the partial gods upbraid.
Shall Hercules all Oeta’s heights demand,
And Nysa’s hill for Bacchus only stand;
While one poor pebble is the warrior’s doom
That fought the cause of liberty and Rome?
If fate decrees he must in Egypt lie,
Let the whole fertile realm his grave supply,
Yield the wide country to his awful shade,}
Nor let us dare on any part to tread,}
Fearful we violate the mighty dead.}
The following passages are pure rant. Coriolanus speaking to his mother,
What is this?
Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
Fillop the stars: then let the mutinous winds
Strike the proud cedars ’gainst the fiery sun:
Murd’ring impossibility, to make
What cannot be, slight work.
_Coriolanus, act 5. sc. 3._
_Cæsar._---- Danger knows full well,
That Cæsar is more dangerous than he.
We were two lions litter’d in one day,
And I the elder and more terrible.
_Julius Cæsar, act 2. sc. 4._
_Almahide._ This day----
I gave my faith to him, he his to me.
_Almanzor._ Good Heav’n, thy book of fate before me lay
But to tear out the journal of this day.
Or if the order of the world below,}
Will not the gap of one whole day allow,}
Give me that minute when she made that vow.}
That minute ev’n the happy from their bliss might give,
And those who live in grief a shorter time would live.
So small a link if broke, th’ eternal chain
Would like divided waters join again.
_Conquest of Granada, act 3._
_Almanzor._---- I’ll hold it fast
As life; and when life’s gone, I’ll hold this last.
And if thou tak’st it after I am slain,
I’ll send my ghost to fetch it back again.
_Conquest of Granada, part 2. act 3._
_Lynairaxa._ A crown is come, and will not fate allow.
And yet I feel something like death is near.
My guards, my guards----
Let not that ugly skeleton appear.
Sure Destiny mistakes; this death’s not mine;
She doats, and meant to cut another line.
Tell her I am a queen---- but ’tis too late;
Dying, I charge rebellion on my fate;
Bow down, ye slaves----
Bow quickly down and your submission show;
I’m pleas’d to taste an empire ere I go. [_Dies._
_Conquest of Granada, part 2. act. 5._
_Ventidius._ But you, ere love misled your wand’ring eyes,
Were, sure, the chief and best of human race,
Fram’d in the very pride and boast of nature,
So perfect, that the gods who form’d you wonder’d
At their own skill, and cry’d, A lucky hit
Has mended our design.
_Dryden, All for Love, act 1._
Not to talk of the impiety of this sentiment, it is ludicrous instead of
being lofty.
* * * * *
The famous Epitaph on Raphael is not less absurd than any of the
foregoing passages:
Raphael, timuit, quo sospite, vinci
Rerum magna parens, et moriente mori.
Imitated by Pope in his Epitaph on Sir Godfrey Kneller:
Living, great Nature fear’d he might outvie
Her works; and dying, fears herself may die.