Je veux aller quérir la justice, et faire donner la question à toute ma maison; à servantes, à valets, à fils, à fille, et à moi aussi. 395. 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 II. Sc. 3. Vos mains seule sont droit de vaincre un invincible. Le Cid, Act V. Sc. last. Que son nom soit béni. Que son nom soit chanté, Au de là de l'éternité.-Esther, Act V. Sc. last. Me miserable! which way shall I fly Still threatening to devour me, opens wide; Paradise Lost, Book IV. 396. Of the third branch, take the following samples, which are pure rant. Coriolanus, speaking to his mother What is this? Your knees to me? to your corrected son? Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun: What cannot be, slight work.-Coriolanus, Act V. Sc. 8. So much upon sentiments; the language proper for expressing them, comes next in order. CHAPTER XVII. LANGUAGE OF PASSION. 397. AMONG the particulars that compose the social part of our nature, a propensity to communicate our opinions, our emotions, and every thing that affects us, is remarkable. Bad fortune and injustice affect us greatly; and of these we are so prone to complain, that if we have no friend or acquaintance to take part in our sufferings, 395. Examples of inconsistent sentiments. we sometimes utter our complaints aloud, even where there are none to listen. But this propensity operates not in every state of mind. A man immoderately grieved, seeks to afflict himself, rejecting all consolation: immoderate grief accordingly is mute: complaining is struggling for consolation. It is the wretch's comfort still to have Some small reserve of near and inward woe, Some unsuspected hoard of inward grief, Which they unseen may wail, and weep, and mourn, And glutton-like alone devour.-Mourning Bride, Act I. Sc. 1. When grief subsides, it then, and no sooner, finds a tongue: we complain, because complaining is an effort to disburden the mind of its distress.* 398. Surprise and terror are silent passions for a different reason : they agitate the mind so violently as for a time to suspend the exercise of its faculties, and among others the faculty of speech. Love and revenge, when immoderate, are not more loquacious than immoderate grief. But when these passions become moderate, they set the tongue free, and, like moderate grief, become loquacious: moderate love, when unsuccessful, is vented in complaints; when successful, is full of joy expressed by words and gestures. As no passion hath any long uninterrupted existence (see chap. ii. part iii.), nor beats away with an equal pulse, the language suggested by passion is not only unequal, but frequently interrupted: and even during an uninterrupted fit of passion, we only express in words the more capital sentiments. In familiar conversation, one who vents every single thought is justly branded with the character of loquacity; because sensible people express no thoughts but what make some figure: in the same manner, we are only disposed to express the strongest pulses of passion, especially when it returns with impetuosity after interruption. * This observation is finely illustrated by a story which Herodotus records, b. iii. Cambyses, when he conquered Egypt, made Psammenitus, the king, prisoner; and for trying his constancy, ordered his daughter to be dressed in the habit of a save, and to be employed in bringing water from the river; his son also was led to execution with a halter about his neck. The Egyptians vented their sorrow in tears and lamentations; Psammenitus only, with a downcast eye, remained silent. Afterwards meeting one of his companions, a man advanced in years, who, being plundered of all, was begging alms, he wept bitterly, calling him by his name. Cambyses, struck with wonder, demanded an answer to the following question: "Psammenitus, thy master, Cambyses, is desirous to know why, after thou hadst seen thy daughter so ignominiously treated, and thy son led to execution, without exclaiming or weeping, thou shouldst be so highly concerned for a poor man, no way related to thee?" Psammenitus returned the following answer: "Son of Cyrus, the calamities of my family are too great to leave me the power of weeping; but the misfortunes of a companion, reduced in his old age to want of bread, is a fit subject for lamentation." Not in every state of 897. Man's propensity to communicate opinions and emotions. mind. Illustrate.-Why we utter complaints. Story from Herodotus. 398. Surprise and terror, silent passions; why ?-Love and revenge, when silent.-The language suggested by passion.-Loquacity. 399. I had occasion to observe (chap. xvi.), that the sentiments ought to be tuned to the passion, and the language to both. Elevated sentiments require elevated language: tender sentiments ought to be clothed in words that are soft and flowing: when the mind is depressed with any passion, the sentiments must be expressed in words that are humble, not low. Words being intimately connected with the ideas 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 cœna Thyeste.-Horace, Ars Poet. 1. 89. 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. (See chap. viii.) 400. 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. 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 scarce 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 pass'd at our last parting; Where are my friends? swore, wept, raged, threaten'd, loved; To this last trial of a father's pity. 899. The sentiments should be suited to the passion, and the language to both.-The use of figurative expression. I fear not death, but cannot bear a thought Of his dear friends, ere mine be made the sacrifice. Venice Preserved, Act V. 401. To preserve the aforesaid 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, Where heavenly pensive Contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns.-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 passage: Me, me; adsum qui feci: in me convertite ferrum, 402. Passion has also 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! And thou enlighten'd earth, so fresh and gay! Paradise Lost, Book viii. 27. -Both have sinn'd! but thou Me! me! only just object of his ire. Paradise Lost, Book x. 980. 400. Figures not equally the language of every passion. Not the language of anguish. Otway. 401. Class of words adapted to sentiments of hurrying passions; to passions that rest on their objects; to melancholy.-Language should resemble the emotion, as rough or smooth, &c.-What we express first in the hurry of passion. Shakspeare is superior to all other writers ir 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 fall 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 to 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 cannot be truly relished but by those who dive deep into human nature. One thing must be evident to the meanest capacity, that wherever passion is to be displayed, Nature shows itself mighty in him, and is conspicuous by the most delicate propriety of sentiment and expression.† * Of this take the following specimen : They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase From our achievements, though perform'd at height, So, oft it chances in particular men, That for some vicious mole of nature in them, By the o'ergrowth of some complexion Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason Shall in the general censure take corruption Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 7. The critics seem not perfectly to comprehend the genius of Shakspeare. His plays are defective in the mechanical part; which is less the work of genius |