DRYDEN

DRYDEN, All for Love, act i.

The description of Paradise in the fourth book of Paradise Lost, is a fine illustration of the impression made by elevated objects.

So on he fares, and to the border comes
Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,
Now nearer, crowns with her inclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champaign head
Of a steep wilderness; whose hairy fides
With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,
Access deny'd; and over head up grew
Insuperable height of loftiest shade,
Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,
A silvan scene; and as the ranks ascend,
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops
The verd'rous wall of Paradise up sprung;
Which to our general fire gave prospect large
Into his nether empire, neigh'ring round.
And higher than that wall a circling row
Of goodliest trees, laden with fairest fruit,
Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue,
Appear'd, with gay enamell'd colours mix'd.

l. 131.

Though a grand object is agreeable, we must not infer that a little object is disagreeable; which would be unhappy for man, considering that he is surrounded with so many objects of that kind. The same holds with respect to place: a body placed high is agreeable; but the same body placed low, is not by that circumstance rendered disagreeable. Littleness and lowness of place are precisely similar in the following particular, that they neither give pleasure nor pain. And in this may visibly be discovered peculiar attention in fitting the internal constitution of man to his external circumstances. Were littleness and lowness of place agreeable, greatness and elevation could not be so; were littleness and lowness of place disagreeable, they would occasion uninterrupted uneasiness.

The difference between great and little with respect

to agreeableness, is remarkably felt in a series when we pass gradually from the one extreme to the other. A mental progress from the capital to the kingdom, from that to Europe—to the whole earth—to the planetary system—to the universe, is extremely pleasant: the heart swells, and the mind is dilated at every step. The returning in an opposite direction is not positively painful, though our pleasure lessens at every step, till it vanish into indifference: such a progress may sometimes produce pleasure of a different sort, which arises from taking a narrower and narrower inspection. The same observation holds in a progress upward and downward. Ascent is pleasure because it elevates us; but descent is never painful: it is for the most part pleasant from a different cause, that it is according to the order of nature. The fall of a stone from any height, is extremely agreeable by its accelerated motion. We feel it pleasant to descend from a mountain, because the descent is natural and easy. Neither is looking downward painful; on the contrary, to look down upon objects, makes part of the pleasure of elevation: looking down becomes then only painful when the object is so far below as to create dizziness; and even when that is the case, we feel a sort of pleasure mixed with the pain: witness Shakespeare's description of Dover cliffs:

How fearful

And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eye so low!
The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross as beetles. Half-way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.
The fishermen that walk upon the beach
Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murm'ring surge,
That on th' unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong. King Lear, act iv. sc. 6.

A remark is made above, that the emotions of grandeur and sublimity are nearly allied. And hence it is, that the one term is frequently put for the other: an increasing series of numbers, for example, producing an emotion similar to that of mounting upward, is commonly termed an ascending series: a series of numbers gradually decreasing, producing an emotion similar to that of going downward, is commonly termed a descending series: we talk familiarly of going up to the capital, and of going down to the country: from a lesser kingdom we talk of going up to a greater; whence the anabasis in the Greek language, when one travels from Greece to Persia. We discover the same way of speaking in the language even of Japan; and its universality proves it the offspring of a natural feeling.

The foregoing observation leads us to consider Grandeur and sublimity in a figurative sense, and as applicable to the fine arts. Hitherto these terms have been taken in their proper sense as applicable to objects of sight only: and it was of importance to be flow some pains upon that article: because, generally speaking, the figurative sense of a word is derived from its proper sense, which holds remarkably at present.

Grandeur and Sublimity. Beauty, in its original signification, is confined to objects of sight; but as many other objects, intellectual as well as moral, raise emotions resembling that of beauty, the resemblance of the effects prompts us to extend the term beauty to these objects. This equally accounts for the terms grandeur and sublimity taken in a figurative sense. Every emotion, from whatever cause proceeding, that resembles an emotion of grandeur or elevation, is called by the same name: thus generosity is said to be an elevated emotion, as well as great courage; and that firmness of soul which is superior to misfortunes obtains the peculiar name of magnanimity. On the other hand, every emotion that contracts the mind, and fixeth it upon things trivial or of no importance, is termed low, by its resemblance to an emotion produced by a little or low object of sight: thus an appetite for trifling amusements is called a low taste. The same terms are applied to characters and actions: we talk familiarly of an elevated genius, of a great man, and equally so of little ones of mind: some actions are great and elevated, and others are little and groveling. Sentiments, and even expressions, are characterized in the same manner: an expression or sentiment that raises the mind is denominated great or elevated; and hence the SUBLIME in poetry. In such figurative terms, we lose the distinction between great and elevated in their proper sense; for the resemblance is not so entire as to preserve these terms distinct in their figurative application. We carry this figure still farther. Elevation, in its proper sense, imports superiority of place; and lowness, inferiority of place; and hence a man of superior talents, of superior rank; of inferior parts, of inferior taste, and such like. The veneration we have for our ancestors, and for the ancients in general, being similar to the emotion produced by an elevated object of sight, justifies the figurative expression of the ancients being raised above us, or possessing a superior place. The notes of the gamut, proceeding regularly from the blunter or grosser sounds to the more acute and piercing, produce in the hearer a feeling somewhat similar to what is produced by mounting upward; and this gives occasion to the figurative expressions, a high note, a low note.

7 The sublimity in poetry.

8 Real and figurative grandeur intimately connected. Such is the resemblance in feeling between real and figurative grandeur, that among the nations on the east coast of Africa, who are directed purely by nature, the officers of state are, with respect to rank, distinguished by the length of the batoon each carries in his hand; and in Japan, princes and great lords show their rank by the length and size of their sedan-poles. Again, it is a rule in painting, that figures of a small size are proper for grotesque pieces: but that an historical subject, grand and important, requires figures as great as the life. The resemblance of these feelings is in reality so strong, that elevation in a figurative sense is observed to have the same effect, even externally, with real elevation:

K. Henry. This day is call'd the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tiptoe when this day is nam'd, And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

Henry V. act iv. sc. 8.

The resemblance in feeling between real and figurative grandeur is humorously illustrated by Addison in criticising upon English tragedy*. "The ordinary Speculator, method of making an hero is to clap a huge plume of feathers upon his head, which rises so high, that there is often a greater length from his chin to the top of his head than to the sole of his foot. One would believe, that we thought a great man and a tall man the same thing. As these superfluous ornaments upon the head make a great man, a prince generally receives her grandeur from those additional incumbrances that fall into her tail: I mean the broad sweeping train that follows her in all her motions, and finds constant employment for a boy who stands behind her to open and spread it to advantage." The Scythians, impressed with the fame of Alexander, were astonished when they found him a little man.

A gradual progress from small to great is not less remarkable in figurative than in real grandeur or elevation. Every one must have observed the delightful effect of a number of thoughts or sentiments, artfully disposed like an ascending series, and making impressions deeper and deeper: such disposition of members in a period is termed a climax.

Within certain limits grandeur and sublimity produce their strongest effects, which lessen by excess as well as by defect. This is remarkable in grandeur and sublimity taken in their proper sense: the grandest emotion that can be raised by a visible object is where the object can be taken in at one view; if so immense as not to be comprehended but in parts, it tends rather to distract than satisfy the mind (A): in like manner, the strongest emotion produced by elevation is where the object is seen distinctly; a greater elevation lessens in appearance the object, till it vanish out of sight with its pleasant emotions. The figurative sense is equally remarkable in figurative grandeur and grandeur; which shall be handled together, because, as observed above, they are scarcely distinguishable. Sentiments may be so strained as to become obscure, or to exceed the capacity of the human mind: against such licence of imagination, every good writer will be upon his guard. And therefore it is of greater importance to observe, that even the true sublime may be carried beyond that pitch which produces the highest entertainment. We are undoubtedly susceptible of a greater elevation than can be inspired by human actions the most heroic and magnanimous; witness what we feel from Milton's description of superior beings: yet every man must be sensible of a more constant and sweet elevation when the history of his own species is the

Grandeur and Sublimity. the subject: he enjoys an elevation equal to that of the greatest hero, of an Alexander or a Cæsar, of a Brutus or an Epaminondas: he accompanies these heroes in their sublimest sentiments and most hazardous exploits, with a magnanimity equal to theirs; and finds it no stretch to preserve the same tone of mind for hours together without sinking. The case is not the same in describing the actions or qualities of superior beings: the reader's imagination cannot keep pace with that of the poet; the mind, unable to support itself in a strained elevation, falls as from a height; and the fall is immoderate like the elevation: where that effect is not felt, it must be prevented by some obscurity in the conception, which frequently attends the descriptions of unknown objects. Hence the St. Francises, St. Dominics, and other tutelary saints among the Roman Catholics. A mind unable to raise itself to the Supreme Being self-existent and eternal, or to support itself in a strained elevation, finds itself more at ease in using the intercession of some saint whose piety and penances while on earth are supposed to have made him a favourite in heaven.

A strained elevation is attended with another inconvenience, that the author is apt to fall suddenly as well as the reader; because it is not a little difficult to descend, sweetly and easily, from such elevation to the ordinary tone of the subject. The following passage is a good illustration of that observation:

Sæpe etiam immensum cœlo venit agmen aquarum,
Et fœdam glomerant tempestatem imbribus atris
Collectæ ex alto nubes. Ruit arduus æther,
Et pluvia ingenti fata læta, boumque labores
Diluit. Implentur fossæ, et cava flumina crescunt
Cum sonitu, ferveretque fretis spirantibus æquor.
Ipse Pater, media nimborum in nocte, corusca
Fulmina molitur dextra. Quo maxima motu
Terra tremuit: fugere feræ, et mortalia corda
Per gentes humilis stravit pavor. Ille flagranti
Aut Atho, aut Rhodopen, aut alta Ceraunia telo
Dejicit: ingeminant Austri, et densissimus imber.