Chapter 5

Viriate.Il m’en fait voir ensemble, et l’auteur, et la cause.Par cet assassinat c’est de moi qu’on dispose,C’est mon trône, c’est moi qu’on pretend conquerir,Et c’est mon juste choix qui seul l’a fait perir.Madame, aprés sa perte, et parmi ces alarmes,N’attendez point de moi de soupirs, ni de larmes;Ce sont amusemens que dédaigne aisementLe prompt et noble orgueil d’un vif ressentiment.Qui pleure, l’affoiblit, qui soupire, l’exhale,Il faut plus de fierté dans une ame royale;Et ma douleur soumise aux soins de le venger,&c.Act 5. sc. 3.

So much in general upon the genuine sentiments of passion. I proceed now to particular observations. And, first, Passions are seldom uniform for any considerable time: they generally fluctuate, swelling and subsiding by turns, often in a quicksuccession[51]. This fluctuation, in the case of a real passion, will be expressed externally by proper sentiments; and ought to be imitated in writing and acting. Accordingly, a climax shows never better than in expressing a swelling passion. The following passages shall suffice for an illustration.

Oroonoko.———— Can you raise the dead?Pursue and overtake the wings of time?And bring about again, the hours, the days,The years, that made me happy?Oroonoko, act 2. sc. 2.

Almeria.———— How hast thou charm’dThe wildness of the waves and rocks to this?That thus relenting they have giv’n thee backTo earth, to light and life, to love and me?Mourning Bride, act 1. sc. 7.

I would not be the villain that thou think’stFor the whole space that’s in the tyrant’s grasp,And the rich earth to boot.Macbeth, act 4. sc. 4.

The following passage expresses finely the progress of conviction.

Let me not stir, nor breathe, lest I dissolveThat tender, lovely form, of painted air,So like Almeria. Ha! it sinks, it falls;I’ll catch it ere it goes, and grasp her shade.’Tis life! ’tis warm! ’tis she! ’tis she herself!It is Almeria! ’tis, it is my wife!Mourning Bride, act 2. sc. 6.

Mourning Bride, act 2. sc. 6.

In the progress of thought, our resolutions become more vigorous as well as our passions.

If ever I do yield or give consent,By any action, word, or thought, to wedAnother Lord; may then just Heav’n show’r down,&c.Mourning Bride, act 1. sc. 1.

If ever I do yield or give consent,By any action, word, or thought, to wedAnother Lord; may then just Heav’n show’r down,&c.

Mourning Bride, act 1. sc. 1.

And this leads to a second observation, That the different stages of a passion, and its different directions, from its birth to its extinction, ought to be carefully represented in the sentiments, which otherwise will often be misplaced. Resentment, for example, when provoked by an atrocious injury, discharges itself first upon theauthor. Sentiments therefore of revenge take place of all others, and must in some measure be exhausted before the person injured think of pitying himself, or of grieving for his present distress. In theCidof Corneille, Don Diegue having been affronted in a cruel manner, expresses scarce any sentiment of revenge, but is totally occupied in contemplating the low situation to which he was reduced by the affront.

O rage! ô desespoir! ô vieillesse ennemie!N’ai je donc tant vecu que pour cette infamie?Et ne suis-je blanchi dans les travaux guerriers,Que pour voir en une jour fletrir tant de lauriers?Mon bras, qu’avec respect toute l’Espagne admire,Mon bras, qui tant de fois a sauvé cet empire,Tant de fois affermi le trône de son roi,Trahit donc ma querelle, et ne fait rien pour moi!O cruel souvenir de ma gloire passée!Oeuvre de tant de jours en un jour effacée!Nouvelle dignité fatale à mon bonheur!Precipice élevé d’ou tombe mon honneur!Faut-il de votre éclat voir triompher le Comte,Et mourir sans vengeance, ou vivre dans la honte?Comte, fois de mon Prince à present gouverneur,Ce haut rang n’admet point un homme sans honneur;Et ton jaloux orgueil par cet affront insigne,Malgré le choix du Roi, m’en a su rendre indigne.Et toi, de mes exploits glorieux instrument,Mais d’un corps tout de glace inutile ornement,Fer jadis tant a craindre, et qui dans cette offenseM’as servi de parade, et non pas de defense,Va quitte desormais le dernier des humains,Passe pour me vanger en de meilleures mains.Le Cid, act 1. sc. 4.

These sentiments are certainly not what occur to the mind in the first movements of the passion. In the same manner as in resentment, the first movements of grief are always directed upon its object. Yet with relation to the hidden and severe distemper that seized Alexander bathing in the river Cydnus, Quintus Curtius describes the first emotions of the army as directed upon themselves, lamenting that they were left without a leader far from home, and had scarce any hopes of returning in safety. Their King’s distress, which must naturally have been their first concern, occupies them but in the second place according to that author. In theAmintaof Tasso, Sylvia, upon a report of her lover’s death, which she believed certain, instead of bemoaning the loss of a beloved object, turns herthoughts upon herself, and wonders her heart does not break.

Ohime, ben son di sasso,Poi che questa novella non m’uccide.Act 4. sc. 2.

In the tragedy ofJane Shore, Alicia, in the full purpose of destroying her rival, has the following reflection:

Oh Jealousy! thou bane of pleasing friendship,Thou worst invader of our tender bosoms;How does thy rancour poison all our softness,And turn our gentle natures into bitterness?See where she comes! Once my heart’s dearest blessing,Now my chang’d eyes are blasted with her beauty,Loathe that known face, and sicken to behold her.Act 3. sc. 1.

These are the reflections of a cool spectator. A passion while it has the ascendant, and is freely indulged, suggests not to the man who feels it any sentiment to its own prejudice. Reflections like the foregoing, occur not to him readily till the passion have spent its vigor.

A person sometimes is agitated at once by different passions. The mind in this case vibrating like a pendulum, vents itself in sentiments which partake of the same vibration. This I give as a third observation:

Queen.‘Would I had never trod this English earth,Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!Ye’ve angels faces, but Heav’n knows your hearts.What shall become of me now! wretched lady!I am the most unhappy woman living.Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes? [To her women.Shipwreck’d upon a kingdom, where no pity,No friends, no hope! no kindred weep for me!Almost, no grave allow’d me.Henry VIII. act 3. sc. 1.

Othello.Oh devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears, Each drop she falls, would prove a crocodile. Out of my sight.Desdemona.I will not stay t’offend you. [going.Lodovico.Truly, an obedient lady: I do beseech your Lordship, call her back.Oth.Mistress——Des.My Lord.Oth.What would you with her, Sir?Lod.Who, I, my Lord?Oth.Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn: Sir, she can turn and turn, and yet go on; And turn again. And she can weep, Sir, weep; And she’s obedient: as you say, obedient; Very obedient—proceed you in your tears—Concerning this, Sir,—oh well-painted passion!—I am commanded home—get you away, I’ll send for you anon—Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice.—— Hence, avaunt! [Exit Desdemona.Othello, act 4. sc. 6.

Othello.Oh devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears, Each drop she falls, would prove a crocodile. Out of my sight.

Desdemona.I will not stay t’offend you. [going.

Lodovico.Truly, an obedient lady: I do beseech your Lordship, call her back.

Oth.Mistress——

Des.My Lord.

Oth.What would you with her, Sir?

Lod.Who, I, my Lord?

Oth.Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn: Sir, she can turn and turn, and yet go on; And turn again. And she can weep, Sir, weep; And she’s obedient: as you say, obedient; Very obedient—proceed you in your tears—Concerning this, Sir,—oh well-painted passion!—I am commanded home—get you away, I’ll send for you anon—Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice.—— Hence, avaunt! [Exit Desdemona.

Othello, act 4. sc. 6.

Æmilia.Oh! my good Lord, I would speak a word with you.Othello.Yes, ’tis Æmilia—by and by—she’s dead. ’Tis like, she comes to speak of Cassio’s death; The noise was high.—Ha, no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were’t good? I think she stirs again—No—what’s the best? If she come in, she’ll, sure, speak to my wife; My wife! my wife! What wife? I have no wife. Oh insupportable! oh heavy hour!Othello, act 5. sc. 7.

Æmilia.Oh! my good Lord, I would speak a word with you.

Othello.Yes, ’tis Æmilia—by and by—she’s dead. ’Tis like, she comes to speak of Cassio’s death; The noise was high.—Ha, no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were’t good? I think she stirs again—No—what’s the best? If she come in, she’ll, sure, speak to my wife; My wife! my wife! What wife? I have no wife. Oh insupportable! oh heavy hour!

Othello, act 5. sc. 7.

A fourth observation is, that nature, which gave us passions, and made them extremely beneficial when moderate, intended undoubtedly that they should be subjected to the government of reason and conscience[52]. It is therefore against the order of nature, that passion in any case should take the lead in contradiction to reason and conscience. Such a state of mind is a sort of anarchy, which every one is ashamed of, and endeavours to hide or dissemble. Even love, however laudable, is attended with a conscious shame when it becomes immoderate: it is covered from the world, and disclosed only to the beloved object:

Et que l’amour souvent de remors combattuParoisse une foiblesse, et non une vertu.Boileau, L’art poet. chant. 3. l. 101.

O, they love least that let men know their love.Two Gentlemen of Verona, act 1. sc. 3.

Hence a capital rule in the representation of strong passions, that their genuine sentimentsought to be hid or dissembled as much as possible. And this holds in an especial manner with respect to criminal passions. One never counsels the commission of a crime in plain terms. Guilt must not appear in its native colours, even in thought: the proposal must be made by hints, and by representing the action in some favourable light. Of the propriety of sentiment upon such an occasion, Shakespear, in theTempest, has given us a beautiful example. The subject is a proposal made by the usurping Duke of Milan to Sebastian, to murder his brother the King of Naples.

Antonio.—————— What mightWorthy Sebastian—O, what might—no more.And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,What thou should’st be: th’occasion speaks thee, andMy strong imagination sees a crownDropping upon thy head.Act 2. sc. 1.

There cannot be a finer picture of this sort, than that of King John soliciting Hubert to murder the young Prince Arthur.

K. John.Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,We owe thee much; within this wall of fleshThere is a soul counts thee her creditor,And with advantage means to pay thy love.And, my good friend, thy voluntary oathLives in this bosom, dearly cherished.Give me thy hand, I had a thing to say——But I will fit it with some better time.By Heaven, Hubert, I’m almost asham’dTo say what good respect I have of thee.Hubert.I am much bounden to your Majesty.K. John.Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet——But thou shalt have—and creep time ne’er so slow,Yet it shall come for me to do thee good.I had a thing to say—but, let it go:The sun is in the heav’n, and the proud day,Attended with the pleasures of the world,Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,To give me audience. If the midnight-bellDid with his iron tongue and brazen mouthSound one into the drowsy race of night;If this same were a church-yard where we stand,And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;Or if that surly spirit MelancholyHad bak’d thy blood and made it heavy-thick,Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,Making that idiot Laughter keep men’s eyes,And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,(A passion hateful to my purposes);Or if that thou could’st see me without eyes,Hear me without thine ears, and make replyWithout a tongue, using conceit alone,Without eyes, ears, and harmful sounds of words;Then, in despight of broad-ey’d watchful day,I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts.But ah, I will not—Yet I love thee well;And, by my troth, I think thou lov’st me well.Hubert.So well, that what you bid me undertake,Though that my death were adjunct to my act,By Heav’n, I’d do’t.K. John.Do not I know, thou would’st?Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eyeOn yon young boy. I’ll tell thee what, my friend;He is a very serpent in my way.And, wheresoe’er this foot of mine doth tread,He lies before me. Dost thou understand me?Thou art his keeper.King John, act 3. sc. 5.

Hubert.I am much bounden to your Majesty.

K. John.Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet——But thou shalt have—and creep time ne’er so slow,Yet it shall come for me to do thee good.I had a thing to say—but, let it go:The sun is in the heav’n, and the proud day,Attended with the pleasures of the world,Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,To give me audience. If the midnight-bellDid with his iron tongue and brazen mouthSound one into the drowsy race of night;If this same were a church-yard where we stand,And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;Or if that surly spirit MelancholyHad bak’d thy blood and made it heavy-thick,Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,Making that idiot Laughter keep men’s eyes,And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,(A passion hateful to my purposes);Or if that thou could’st see me without eyes,Hear me without thine ears, and make replyWithout a tongue, using conceit alone,Without eyes, ears, and harmful sounds of words;Then, in despight of broad-ey’d watchful day,I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts.But ah, I will not—Yet I love thee well;And, by my troth, I think thou lov’st me well.

Hubert.So well, that what you bid me undertake,Though that my death were adjunct to my act,By Heav’n, I’d do’t.

K. John.Do not I know, thou would’st?Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eyeOn yon young boy. I’ll tell thee what, my friend;He is a very serpent in my way.And, wheresoe’er this foot of mine doth tread,He lies before me. Dost thou understand me?Thou art his keeper.King John, act 3. sc. 5.

As things are best illustrated by their contraries, I proceed to collect from classical authors, sentiments that appear faulty. The first class shall consist of sentiments thataccord not with the passion; or, in other words, sentiments that the passion represented does not naturally suggest. In the second class, shall be ranged sentiments that may belong to an ordinary passion, but unsuitable to it as tinctured by a singular character. Thoughts that properly are not sentiments, but rather descriptions, make a third. Sentiments that belong to the passion represented, but are faulty as being introduced too early or too late, make a fourth. Vicious sentiments exposed in their native dress, instead of being concealed or disguised, make a fifth. And in the last class, shall be collected sentiments suited to no character or passion, and therefore unnatural.

The first class contains faulty sentiments of various kinds, which I shall endeavour to distinguish from each other. And first sentiments that are faulty by being above the tone of the passion.

Othello.———— O my soul’s joy!If after every tempest come such calms,May the winds blow till they have waken’d death:And let the labouring bark climb hills of seasOlympus high, and duck again as lowAs hell’s from heaven!Othello, act 2. sc. 6.

This sentiment is too strong to be suggested by so slight a joy as that of meeting after a storm at sea.

Philaster.Place me, some god, upon a pyramidHigher than hills of earth, and lend a voiceLoud as your thunder to me, that from thenceI may discourse to all the under-worldThe worth that dwells in him.Philaster of Beaumont and Fletcher, act 4.

Secondly, Sentiments below the tone of the passion. Ptolemy, by putting Pompey to death, having incurred the displeasure of Cæsar, was in the utmost dread of being dethroned. In this agitating situation, Corneille makes him utter a speech full of cool reflection, that is in no degree expressive of the passion.

Ah! si je t’avois crû, je n’aurois pas de maître,Je serois dans le trône où le Ciel m’a fait naître;Mais c’est une imprudence assez commune aux rois,D’ecouter trop d’avis, et se tromper au choix.Le Destin les aveugle au bord du précipice,Ou si quelque lumiere en leur ame se glisse,Cette fausse clarté dont il les eblouit,Le plonge dans une gouffre, et puis s’evanouit.La mort de Pompée, act 4. sc. 1.

InLes Freres ennemiesof Racine, the second act is opened with a 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 theAlexandreof 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 thenFar heavier load thyself expect to feelFrom my prevailing arm, though Heaven’s KingRide on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers,Us’d to the yoke, draw’st his triumphant wheelsIn progress through the road of heav’nstar-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 theMourning 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 woesWhich are diffus’d through the revolving year,Come heavy-laden with th’ oppressing weightTo me; with me, successively, they leaveThe 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 allThe 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 ifAll 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.

Drummer, act 5.

Pope’s Elegy to the memory of an unfortunate lady, expresses delicately the most tender concern and sorrow for the deplorablefate 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’ershadeThe 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 theIerusalemof 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 venaLacrime, e voce di sospiri mista.In che misero punto hor qui me menaFortuna? a che veduta amara e trista?Dopo gran tempo i’ ti ritrovo à penaTancredi, e ti riveggio, e non son vista,Vista non son da te, benche presenteE 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 breadUpon 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 hisExamen 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 theDrummer, 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 theHippolytusof Euripides, act 5. an illustrious instance,viz.the speech of Theseus, upon hearing of his son’s dismal exit. In Racine’s tragedy ofEsther, 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 inimitiéSuccéder—— 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 ofParadise 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 fromVenice 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 hoarseThat croaks the fatal entrance of DuncanUnder my battlements. Come all you spiritsThat tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,And fill me from the crown to th’ toe, top-fullOf direct cruelty; make thick my blood,Stop up th’ access and passage to remorseThat no compunctious visitings of natureShake 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 thePompeyof 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 destinsJ’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 têteMettre 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 ofEsther[57], Haman acknowledges, without disguise, his cruelty, insolence, and pride. And there is another example of the same kind in theAgamemnonof Seneca[58]. In the tragedy ofAthalie[59], Mathan, in cool blood, relates to his friend many black crimes he had been guilty of to satisfy his ambition.

In Congreve’sDouble-dealer, Maskwell, instead of disguising or colouring his crimes, values himself upon them in a soliloquy:

Back to Index Next