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And like the vanishing sound of bells, grows less
And less each pulse, till it be lost in air.-Dryden.

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.

392. 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 Preserved (Act V.), at the close of the scene between 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 those eyes that weep in fondness o'er thee:
Peace to thy heart.

393. Immoral sentiments exposed in their native colors, insteal of being concealed or disguised, compose the fifth class.

The Lady Macbeth, projecting the death of the king, has the fol lowing soliloquy:

-The raven himself is 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 direst 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 I. Sc. 7.

This speech is not natural. A treacherous murder 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 that state of mind, it is a never-failing artifice of self-deceit, to draw the thickest veil over the wicked action, and to extenuate it by all the 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:

392. Sentiments introduced unseasonably.- Venice Preserved.

Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;

Which must be acted ere they must be scann'd.-Act III. Sc. 5.

The lady follows neither of these courses, but in a deliberate manner endeavors to fortify her heart in the commission of an execrable crime, without even attempting to color it. This I think is not natural: I hope there is no such wretch to be found as is here represented.

In Congreve's Double-dealer, Maskwell, instead of disguising or coloring 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.

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. 394. The last class comprehends sentiments that are unnatural, as being suited to no character or passion. These may be subdivided into three branches: first, sentiments unsuitable to the constitution of man, and to 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 (Act IV. Sc. 5), 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 owest 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 II. 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 Molière's L'Avare (Act IV. Sc. 7), 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:

393. Immoral sentiments exposed instead of being concealed.-Lady Macbeth's soliloquy. Not natural.-Remarks on French plays. 394. Sentiments unnatural. Threo branches.-Examples of sentiments unsuitable to the

constitution of man.

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 Caesar, Act II. Sc. 8.

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,
Que l'on célèbre ses ouvrages

Au de là de l'éternité.-Esther, Act V. 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 threatening to devour me, opens wide;
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

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?
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
Fillip 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 V. Sc. 8.

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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 it we have no friend or acquaintance to take part in our sufferings,

395. Examples of inconsistent sentiments.
396. Examples of sentiments that are pure rant.

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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 strug gling 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."

397. Man's propensity to communicate opinions and emotions. Not in every state of mind. Illustrate.-Why we utter complaints. Story from Herodotus.

398. Surprise and terror, silent passions; why?-Love and revenge, when silent.-Tho 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.
Indignatur item privatis ac prope socco

Dignis carminibus narrari cœna Thyestæ.-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.
Telephus et Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque;
Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba,

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;
Think you beheld him like a raging lion,
Pacing the earth, and tearing up his steps,
Fate in his eyes, and roaring with the pain
Of burning fury; think you saw his one hand
Fix'd on my throat, while the extended other
Grasp'd a keen threat'ning dagger; oh, 'twas thus
We last embraced, when, trembling with revenge,
He dragg'd me to the ground, and at my bosom
Presented horrid death: cried out, My friends!

Where are my friends? swore, wept, raged, threaten'd, loved;
For he yet loved, and that dear love preserved me

To this last trial of a father's pity.

399. The sentiments should be suited to the passion, and the language to both.-The use ef figurative expression.

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