THE SUBLIME
PART TEN
Chapters 37-41 XXXVII
CLOSELY related to Metaphors (for we must
return to our point) are comparisons and
similes, differing only in this respect.....
XXXVIII .... such Hyperboles as: 'unless
you carry your brains trodden down
in your
heels' (On the Halonnesus 45, at Perseus).
It is necessary, therefore, to know
where
to fix the limit in each case; for
an occasional
overshooting of the mark ruins the
hyperbole,
and such expressions, when strained
too much,
lose their tension, and sometimes swing
round
and produce the contrary effect. 2.
Isocrates,
for example, fell into unaccountable
puerility
owing to the ambition which made him
desire
to describe everything with a touch
of amplification.
The theme of his Panegyric is that
Athens
surpasses Lacedaemon in benefits conferred
upon Greece, and yet at the very outset
of
his speech he uses these words: 'Further,
language has such capacity that it
is possible
thereby to debase things lofty and
invest
things small with grandeur, and to
express
old things in a new way, and to discourse
in ancient fashion about what has newly
happened
(Panegyricus 8, at Perseus).' 'Do you
then,
Isocrates,' it may be asked, 'mean
in that
way to interchange the facts of Lacedaemonian
and Athenian history?' For in his eulogy
of language he has, we may say, published
to his hearers a preamble warning them
to
distrust himself. 3. Perhaps, then,
as we
said in dealing with figures generally,
those
hyperboles are best in which the very
fact
that they are hyperboles escapes attention.
This happens when, through stress of
strong
emotion, they are uttered in connexion
with
some great crisis, as is done by Thucydides
in the case of those who perished in
Sicily.
'The Syracusans,'he says, 'came down
to the
water's edge and began the slaughter
of those
chiefly who were in the river, and
the water
at once became polluted, but none the
less
it was swallowed although muddy and
mixed
with blood, and to most it was still
worth
fighting for (Thucydides, Histories
7.84).'
That a draught of blood and mud should
still
be worth fighting for, is rendered
credible
by the intensity of the emotion at
a great
crisis. 4. So with the passage in which
Herodotus
tells of those who fell at Thermopylae.
'On
this spot,' he says, 'the barbarians
buried
them as they defended themselves with
daggers--those
of them who had daggers still left--and
with
hands and mouths (Herodotus, Histories
7.
225).' Here you may be inclined to
protest
against the expressions 'fight with
their
very mouths' against men in armour,
and 'being
buried' with darts. At the same time
the
narrative carries conviction; for the
event
does not seem to be introduced for
the sake
of the hyperbole, but the hyperbole
to spring
naturally from the event. 5. For (as
I never
cease to say) the deeds and passions
which
verge on transport are a sufficient
lenitive
and remedy for every audacity of speech.
This is the reason why the quips of
comedy,
although they may be carried to the
extreme
of absurdity, are plausible because
they
are so amusing. For instance,
Smaller his field was than a Spartan letter.
For mirth, too, is an emotion, an emotion
which has its root in pleasure. 6. Hyperboles
are employed in describing things small as
well as great, since exaggeration is the
common element in both cases. And, in a sense,
ridicule is an amplification of the paltriness
of things.
XXXIX The fifth of those elements contributing
to the sublime which we mentioned, excellent
friend, at the beginning, still remains to
be dealt with, namely the arrangement of
the words in a certain order. In regard to
this, having already in two treatises sufficiently
stated such results as our inquiry could
compass, we will add, for the purpose of
our present undertaking, only what is absolutely
essential, namely the fact that harmonious
arrangement is not only a natural source
of persuasion and pleasure among men but
also a wonderful instrument of lofty utterance
and of passion. 2. For does not the flute
instil certain emotions into its hearers
and as it were make them beside themselves
and full of frenzy, and supplying a rhythmical
movement constrain the listener to move rhythmically
in accordance therewith and to conform himself
to the melody, although he may be utterly
ignorant of music? Yes, and the tones of
the harp, although in themselves they signify
nothing at all, often cast a wonderful spell,
as you know, over an audience by means of
the variations of sounds, by their pulsation
against one another, and by their mingling
in concert. 3. And yet these are mere semblances
and spurious copies of persuasion, not (as
I have said) genuine activities of human
nature. Are we not, then, to hold that composition
(being a harmony of that language which is
implanted by nature in man and which appeals
not to the hearing only but to the soul itself),
since it calls forth manifold shapes of words,
thoughts, deeds, beauty, melody, all of them
born at our birth and growing with our growth,
and since by means of the blending and variation
of its own tones it seeks to introduce into
the minds of those who are present the emotion
which affects the speaker and since it always
brings the audience to share in it and by
the building of phrase upon phrase raises
a sublime and harmonious structure: are we
not, I say, to hold that harmony by these
selfsame means allures us and invariably
disposes us to stateliness and dignity and
elevation and every emotion which it contains
within itself, gaining absolute mastery over
our minds? But it is folly to dispute concerning
matters which are generally admitted, since
experience is proof sufficient. 4. An example
of a conception which is usually thought
sublime and is really admirable is that which
Demosthenes associates with the decree: 'This
decree caused the danger which then beset
the city to pass by just-as a cloud (On the
Crown 188).' But it owes its happy sound
no less to the harmony than to the thought
itself. For the thought is expressed throughout
in dactylic rhythms, and these are most noble
and productive of sublimity; and therefore
it is that they constitute the heroic, the
finest metre that we know. [And the order
of the expression hôsper nephos is exactly
right.] For if you derange the words of the
sentence and transpose them in whatever way
you will, as for example 'This decree just-as
a cloud caused the danger of the time to
pass by'; nay, if you cut off a single syllable
only and say caused to pass by as a cloud,'
you will perceive to what an extent harmony
is in unison with sublimity. For the very
words 'just-as a cloud' begin with a long
rhythm, which consists of four metrical beats;
but if one syllable is cut off and we read
'as a cloud,' we immediately maim the sublimity
by the abbreviation. Conversely, if you elongate
the word and write 'caused to pass by just-as-if
a cloud,' it means the same thing, but no
longer falls with the same effect upon the
ear, inasmuch as the abrupt grandeur of the
passage loses its energy and tension through
the lengthening of the concluding syllables.
XL Among the chief causes of the sublime
in speech, as in the structure of the human
body, is the collocation of members, a single
one of which if severed from another possesses
in itself nothing remarkable, but all united
together make a full and perfect organism.
So the constituents of grandeur, when separated
from one another, carry with them sublimity
in distraction this way and that, but when
formed into a body by association and when
further encircled in a chain of harmony they
become sonorous by their very rotundity;
and in periods sublimity is, as it were,
a contribution made by a multitude. 2. We
have, however, sufficiently shown that many
writers and poets who possess no natural
sublimity and are perhaps even wanting in
elevation have nevertheless, although employing
for the most part common and popular words
with no striking associations of their own,
by merely joining and fitting these together,
secured dignity and distinction and the appearance
of freedom from meanness. Instances will
be furnished by Philistus among many others,
by Aristophanes in certain passages, by Euripides
in most. 3. In the last-mentioned author,
Heracles, after the scene in which he slays
his children, uses the words:--
Full-fraught am I with woes--no space for
more.
(Euripides, Hercules Furens 1245). The expression
is a most ordinary one, but it has gained
elevation through the aptness of the structure
of the line. If you shape the sentence in
a different way, you will see this plainly,
the fact being that Euripides is a poet in
virtue of his power of composition rather
than of his invention. 4. In the passage
which describes Dirce torn away by the bull:--
Whitherso'er he turned Swift wheeling round,
he haled and hurled withal Dame, rock, oak,
intershifted ceaselessly,
the conception itself is a fine one, but
it has been rendered more forcible by the
fact that the harmony is not hurried or carried
as it were on rollers, but the words act
as buttresses for one another and find support
in the pauses, and issue finally in a well-grounded
sublimity.
XLI There is nothing in the sphere of the
sublime, that is so lowering as broken and
agitated movement of language, such as is
characteristic of pyrrhics and trochees and
dichorees, which fall altogether to the level
of dance-music. For all over-rhythmical writing
is at once felt to be affected and finical
and wholly lacking in passion owing to the
monotony of its superficial polish. 2. And
the worst of it all is that, just as petty
lays draw their hearer away from the point
and compel his attention to themselves, so
also overrhythmical style does not communicate
the feeling of the words but simply the feeling
of the rhythm. Sometimes, indeed, the listeners
knowing beforehand the due terminations stamp
their feet in time with the speaker, and
as in a dance give the right step in anticipation.
3. In like manner those words are destitute
of sublimity which lie too close together,
and are cut up into short and tiny syllables,
and are held together as if with wooden bolts
by sheer inequality and ruggedness
Chapters 42-44 XLII FURTHER, excessive concision
of expression tends to lower the sublime,
since grandeur is marred when the thought
is brought into too narrow a compass. Let
this be understood not of proper compression,
but of what is absolutely petty and cut into
segments. For concision curtails the sense,
but brevity goes straight to the mark. It
is plain that, vice versa, prolixities are
frigid, for so is everything that resorts
to unseasonable length.
XLIII Triviality of expression is also apt
to disfigure sublimity. In Herodotus, for
example, the tempest is described with marvellous
effect in all its details, but the passage
surely contains some words below the dignity
of the subject. The following may serve as
an instance--'when the sea seethed (Histories
VII. 188).' The word 'seethed' detracts greatly
from the sublimity because it is an ill-sounding
one. Further, 'the wind,' he says, 'grew
fagged,' and those who clung to the spars
met 'an unpleasant end'
(Histories VII. 191) and (VIII. 13). The
expression 'grew fagged' is lacking in dignity,
being vulgar; and the word 'unpleasant' is
inappropriate to so great a disaster. 2.
Similarly, when Theopompus had dressed out
in marvellous fashion the descent of the
Persian king upon Egypt, he spoilt the whole
by some petty words. 'For which of the cities
(he says) or which of the tribes in Asia
did not send envoys to the Great King? Which
of the products of the earth or of the achievements
of art was not, in all its beauty or preciousness,
brought as an offering to his presence? Consider
the multitude of costly coverlets and mantles,
in purple or white or embroidery; the multitude
of pavilions of gold furnished with all things
useful; the multitude, too, of tapestries
and costly couches. Further, gold and silver
plate richly wrought, and goblets and mixing-bowls,
some of which you might have seen set with
precious stones, and others finished with
care and at great price. In addition to all
this, countless myriads of Greek and barbaric
weapons, and beasts of burden beyond all
reckoning and victims fattened for slaughter,
and many bushels of condiments, and many
bags and sacks and sheets of papyrus and
all other useful things, and an equal number
of pieces of salted flesh from all manner
of victims, so that the piles of them were
so great that those who were approaching
from a distance took them to be hills and
eminences confronting them.' 3. He runs off
from the more elevated to the more lowly,
whereas he should, on the contrary, have
risen higher and higher. With his wonderful
description of the whole outfit he mixes
bags and condiments and sacks, and conveys
the impression of a confectioner's shop!
For just as if, in the case of those very
adornments, between the golden vessels and
the jewelled mixing-bowls and the silver
plate and the pavilions of pure gold and
the goblets, a man were to bring and set
in the midst paltry bags and sacks, the proceeding
would have been offensive to the eye, so
do such words when introduced out of season
constitute deformities and as it were blots
on the diction. 4. He might have described
the scene in massive images just as he says
that hills blocked their way, and with regard
to the preparations generally have spoken
of 'waggons and camels and the multitude
of beasts of burden carrying everything that
ministers to the luxury and enjoyment of
the table,' or have used some such expression
as 'piles of all manner of grain and things
which conduce preeminently to good cookery
and comfort of body,' or if he must necessarily
put it in so uncompromising a way, he might
have said that 'all the dainties of cooks
and caterers were there.' 5. In lofty passages
we ought not to descend to sordid and contemptible
language unless constrained by some overpowering
necessity, but it is fitting that we should
use words worthy of the subject and imitate
nature the artificer of man, for she has
not placed in full view our grosser parts
or the means of purging our frame, but has
hidden them away as far as was possible,
and as Xenophon says has put their channels
in the remotest background, so as not to
sully the beauty of the entire creature.
6. But enough; there is no need to enumerate,
one by one, the things which produce triviality.
For since we have previously indicated those
qualities which render style noble and lofty,
it is evident that their opposites will for
the most part make it low and base.
XLIV It remains, however (as I will not hesitate
to add, in recognition of your love of knowledge)
to clear up, my dear Terentianus, a question
which a certain philosopher has recently
mooted. 'I wonder,' he says, 'as no doubt
do many others, how it happens that in our
time there are men who have the gift of persuasion
to the utmost extent, and are well fitted
for public life, and are keen and ready,
and particularly rich in all the charms of
language, yet there no longer arise really
lofty and transcendent natures unless quite
exceptionally. So great and world-wide a
dearth of high utterance attends our age.'
2. 'Can it be,' he continued, 'that we are
to accept the trite explanation that democracy
is the kind nursing-mother of genius, and
that literary power may be said to share
its rise and fall with democracy and democracy
alone? For freedom, it is said, has power
to feed the imaginations of the lofty-minded
and inspire hope, and where it prevails there
spreads abroad the eagerness of mutual rivalry
and the emulous pursuit of the foremost place.
3. Moreover, owing to the prizes which are
open to all under popular government, the
mental excellences of the orator are continually
exercised and sharpened, and as it were rubbed
bright, and shine forth (as it is natural
they should) with all the freedom which inspires
the doings of the state. To-day,' he went
on, 'we seem in our boyhood to learn the
lessons of a righteous servitude, being all
but enswathed in its customs and observances,
when our thoughts are yet young and tender,
and never tasting the fairest and most productive
source of eloquence (by which,' he added,
'I mean freedom), so that we emerge in no
other guise than that of sublime flatterers.'
4. This is the reason, he maintained, why
no slave ever becomes an orator, although
all other faculties may belong to menials.
In the slave there immediately burst out
signs of fettered liberty of speech, of the
dungeon as it were, of a man habituated to
buffetings. 5. 'For the day of slavery,'
as Homer has it, 'takes away half our manhood
(Odyssey XVII. 322, at Perseus).' 'Just as,'
he proceeded, 'the cages (if what I hear
is true) in which are kept the Pygmies, commonly
called nani, not only hinder the growth of
the creatures confined within them, but actually
attenuate them through the bonds which beset
their bodies, so one has aptly termed all
servitude
(though it be most righteous) the cage of
the soul and a public prison-house.' 6. I
answered him thus: 'It is easy, my good sir,
and characteristic of human nature, to find
fault with the age in which one lives. But
consider whether it may not be true that
it is not the world's peace that ruins great
natures, but far rather this war illimitable
which holds our desires in its grasp, aye,
and further still those passions which occupy
as with troops our present age and utterly
harry and plunder it. For the love of money
(a disease from which we all now suffer sorely)
and the love of pleasure make us their thralls,
or rather, as one may say, drown us body
and soul in the depths, the love of riches
being a malady which makes men petty, and
the love of pleasure one which makes them
most ignoble. 7. On reflexion I cannot discover
how it is possible for us, if we value boundless
wealth so highly, or (to speak more truly)
deify it, to avoid allowing the entrance
into our souls of the evils which are inseparable
from it. For vast and unchecked wealth is
accompanied, in close conjunction and step
for step as they say, by extravagance, and
as soon as the former opens the gates of
cities and houses, the latter immediately
enters and abides. And when time has passed
the pair build nests in the lives of men,
as the wise say, and quickly give themselves
to the rearing of offspring, and breed ostentation,
and vanity, and luxury, no spurious progeny
of theirs, but only too legitimate. If these
children of wealth are permitted to come
to maturity, straightway they beget in the
soul inexorable masters --insolence, and
lawlessness, and shamelessness. 8. This must
necessarily happen, and men will no longer
lift up their eyes or have any further regard
for fame, but the ruin of such lives will
gradually reach its complete consummation
and sublimities of soul fade and wither away
and become contemptible, when men are lost
in admiration of their own mortal parts and
omit to exalt that which is immortal. 9.
For a man who has once accepted a bribe for
a judicial decision cannot be an unbiassed
and upright judge of what is just and honourable
(since to the man who is venal his own interests
must seem honourable and just), and the same
is true where the entire life of each of
us is ordered by bribes, and huntings after
the death of others, and the laying of ambushes
for legacies, while gain from any and every
source we purchase--each one of us--at the
price of life itself, being the slaves of
pleasure. In an age which is ravaged by plagues
so sore, is it possible for us to imagine
that there is still left an unbiassed and
incorruptible judge of works that are great
and likely to reach posterity, or is it not
rather the case that all are influenced in
their decisions by the passion for gain?
10. Nay, it is perhaps better for men like
ourselves to be ruled than to be free, since
our appetites, if let loose without restraint
upon our neighbours like beasts from a cage,
would set the world on fire with deeds of
evil. 11. Summing up, I maintained that among
the banes of the natures which our age produces
must be reckoned that half-heartedness in
which the life of all of us with few exceptions
is passed, for we do not labour or exert
ourselves except for the sake of praise and
pleasure, never for those solid benefits
which are a worthy object of our own efforts
and the respect of others. 12. But ''tis
best to leave these riddles unresolved'
(Euripides, Electra 379), and to proceed
to what next presents itself, namely
the
subject of the Passions, about which
I previously
undertook to write in a separate treatise.
These form, as it seems to me, a material
part of discourse generally and of
the Sublime
itself.
THE END
|
Evans Experientialism 
