they represent, the greatest harmony is required between them: to express, for example, an humble sentiment in high sounding words, is disagreeable by a discordant mixture of feelings; and the discord is not less when elevated sentiments are dressed in low words: Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non vult. Dignis carminibus narrari coena Thyestæ. Horace, Ars Poet. 1. 89. A comic subject will not hold If 'tis in tragic measure told; Besides, it would an audience shock, In verses fitter for the sock The Thyestean feast to tell. This, however, excludes not figurative expression, which, within moderate bounds, communicates to the sentiment an agreeable elevation. We are sensible of an effect directly opposite, where figurative expression is indulged beyond a just measure: the opposition between the expression and the sentiment, makes the discord appear greater than it is in reality.* At the same time, figures are not equally the language of every passion pleasant emotions, which elevate or swell the mind, vent themselves in strong epithets and figurative expression; but humbling and dispiriting passions affect to speak plain : Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri Si curat cor spectantis tetigisse querela. Horace, Ars Poet. 1. 95. And sometimes in the tragic scene Figurative expression, being the work of an enlivened imagination, cannot be the language of anguish or distress. Otway, sensible of this, has painted a scene of distress in colors finely adapted to the subject: there is scarcely a figure in it, except a short and natural simile with which the speech is introduced. Belvidera talking to her father of her husband: Think you saw what past at our last parting * See this explained more particularly in Chap. 8. I fear not death, but cannot bear a thought Fly to the senate, save the promised lives Of his dear friends, ere mine be made the sacrifice. To preserve the foresaid resemblance between words and their meaning, the sentiments of active and hurrying passions ought to be dressed in words where syllables prevail that are pronounced short or fast; for these make an impression of hurry and precipitation. Emotions, on the other hand, that rest upon their objects, are best expressed by words where syllables prevail that are pronounced long or slow. A person affected with melancholy has a languid and slow train of perceptions: the expression best suited to that state of mind, is where words, not only of long but of many syllables, abound in the composition; and, for that reason, nothing can be finer than the following passage. In those deep solitudes, and awful cells, Pope, Eloisa to Abelard. To preserve the same resemblance, another circumstance is requisite, that the language, like the emotion, be rough or smooth, broken or uniform. Calm and sweet emotions are best expressed by words that glide softly: surprise, fear, and other turbulent passions, require an expression both rough and broken. It cannot have escaped any diligent inquirer into nature, that, in the hurry of passion, one generally expresses that thing first which is most at heart:* which is beautifully done in the following pas sage. Me, me; adsum qui feci: in me convertite ferrum, Eneid, IX. 427. Me-me-I'm here, I did it-turn your swords On me, oh Rutuleans—mine was all the fraud. Passion has often the effect of redoubling words, the better to make them express the strong conception of the mind. This is finely imitated in the following examples. -Thou sun, said I, fair light! Paradise Lost, book VIII. 273. -Both have sinn'd! but thou Against God only; I, 'gainst God and thee: There with my cries importune Heaven, that all * Demetrius Phalereus (of Elocution, sect. 28.) justly observes, that an accurate adjustment of the words to the thought, so as to make them correspond in every particular, is only proper for sedate subjects; for that passion speaks plain, and rejects all refinements. : The sentence, from thy head remov'd, may light Paradise Lost, book X. 930. Shakspeare is superior to all other writers in delineating passion. It is difficult to say in what part he most excels, whether in moulding every passion to peculiarity of character, in discovering the sentiments that proceed from various tones of passion, or in expressing properly every different sentiment: he disgusts not his reader with general declamation and unmeaning words, too common in other writers his sentiments are adjusted to the peculiar character and circumstances of the speaker: and the propriety is no less perfect between his sentiments and his diction. That this is no exaggeration, will be evident to every one of taste, upon comparing Shakspeare with other writers in similar passages. If upon any occasion he falls below himself, it is in those scenes where passion enters not: by endeavoring in that case to raise his dialogue above the style of ordinary conversation, he sometimes deviates into intricate thought and obscure expression:* sometimes, to throw his language out of the familiar, he employs rhyme. But may it not, in some measure, excuse Shakspeare, I shall not say his works, that he had no pattern, in his own or in any living language, of dialogue fitted for the theatre? At the same time, it ought not to escape observation, that the stream clears in its progress, and that in his later plays he has attained the purity and perfection of dialogue; an observation that, with greater certainty than tradition, will direct us to arrange his plays in the order of time. This ought to be considered by those who rigidly exaggerate every blemish of the finest genius for the drama ever the world enjoyed: they ought also for their own sake to consider, that it is easier to discover his blemishes, which lie generally at the surface, than his beauties, which can be truly relished by those only who dive deep into human nature. One thing must be evident to the meanest capacity, that wherever passion is to be * Of this take the following specimen : They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase Soil our ambition; and, indeed it takes From our achievements, though perform'd at height, So, oft it chances in particular men, That for some vicious mole of nature in them, Hamlet, Act 1. Sc. 7. displayed, nature shows itself mighty in him, and is conspicuous by the most delicate propriety of sentiment and expression. I return to my subject, from a digression from which I cannot repent. That perfect harmony which ought to subsist among all the constituent parts of a dialogue, is a beauty no less rare than conspicuous: as to expression in particular, were I to give instances, where, in one or other of the respects above mentioned, it corresponds not precisely to the characters, passions, and sentiments, I might from different authors collect volumes. Following, therefore, the method laid down in the chapter of sentiments, I shall confine my quotations to the grosser errors, which every writer ought to avoid. And, first, of passion expressed in words flowing in an equal course without interruption. In the chapter above cited, Corneille is censured for the impropriety of his sentiments: and here, for the sake of truth, I am obliged to attack him a second time. Were I to give instances from that author of the fault under consideration, I might transcribe whole tragedies; for he is no less faulty in this particular, than in passing upon us his own thoughts as a spectator, instead of the genuine sentiments of passion. Nor would a comparison between him and Shakspeare, upon the present article, redound more to his honor, than the former upon the sentiments. Racine is here less incorrect than Corneille; and from him, therefore, I shall gather a few instances. The first shall be the description of the sea-monster in his Phædra, given by Theramene, the companion of Hippolytus. Theramene is represented in terrible agitation, which appears from the following passage, so boldly figurative as not to be excused but by violent perturbation of mind: Le ciel avec horreur voit ce monstre sauvage, Le flot, qui l'apporta, recule epouvanté. Yet Theramene gives a long pompous connected description of that event, dwelling upon every minute circumstance, as if he had been only a cool spectator: A peine nous sortions des portes de Trézéné, Sa main sur les chevaux laissoit flotter les rênes. * The critics seem not perfectly to comprehend the genuis of Shakspeare. His plays are defective in the mechanical part; which is less the work of genius than of experience, and is not otherwise brought to perfection but by diligently observing the errors of former compositions. Shakspeare excels all the ancients and moderns in knowledge of human nature, and in unfolding even the most obscure and refined emotions. This is a rare faculty, and of the greatest importance in a dramatic author; and it is that faculty which makes him surpass all other writers in the comic as well as tragic vein. The last speech of Atalide, in the tragedy of Bajazet, of the same Qu'à lui survivre, hélas! je fusse condamnée ? Roxane, venez tous contre moi conjurez, [Elle se tue. Act V. Sc. last. Though works, not authors, are the professed subject of this critical undertaking, I am tempted, by the present speculation, to transgress, once again, the limits prescribed, and to venture a cursory reflection upon that justly celebrated author; that he is always sensible, generally correct, never falls low, maintains a moderate degree of dignity, without reaching the sublime, paints delicately the tender affections, but is a stranger to the genuine language of enthusiastic or fervid passion. If, in general, the language of violent passion ought to be broken and interrupted, soliloquies ought to be so in a peculiar manner: language is intended by nature for society: and a man when alone, though he always clothes his thoughts in words, seldom gives his words utterance, unless when prompted by some strong emotion; and even then by starts and intervals only.* Shakspeare's soliloquies may be justly established as a model; for it is not easy to conceive any model more perfect: of his many incomparable soliloquies, I confine myself to the two following, being different in their manner. Hamlet. Oh, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! * Soliloquies accounted for, Chap. 15. |