nature and human action, can never in a literal sense be applied to the Divinity. The understanding is continually referred from the shadow to the reality; nor can it rest satisfied with the bare literal application, but is naturally directed to investigate that quality in the Divine nature, which appears to be analogous to the image. This, if I am not mistaken, will supply us with a reason not very obvious, of a very observable effect in the Hebrew writings, namely, why, among those sensible images that are applied to the Deity, those principally, which in a literal sense would seem most remote from the object, and most unworthy of the Divine Majesty, are nevertheless, when used metaphorically, or in the way of comparison, by far the most sublime. That imagery, for instance, which is taken from the parts and members of the human body, is found to be much nobler and more magnificent in its effect, than that which is taken from the passions of the mind; and that, which is taken from the animal creation, frequently exceeds in sublimity that which the nature of man has suggested. For such is our ignorance and blindness in contemplating the Divine nature, that we can by no means attain to a simple and pure idea of it: we necessarily mingle something of the human with the divine: the grosser animal properties, therefore, we easily distinguish and separate, but it is with the utmost difficulty that we can preserve the rational, and even some of the properties of the sensitive, soul perfectly distinct. Hence it is, that in those figurative expressions derived from the nobler and more excellent qualities of human nature, when applied to the Almighty, we frequently acquiesce, as if they were in strict literal propriety to be attributed to him: on the contrary, our understanding immediately rejects the literal sense of those which seem quite inconsistent with the Divine Being, and derived from an ignoble source: and, while it pursues the analogy, it constantly rises to a contemplation, which, though obscure, is yet grand and magnificent. Let us observe, whether this observation will apply to the following passages, in which the psalmist ascribes to God the resentment commonly experienced by a human creature for an injury unexpectedly received: there appears in the image nothing to excite our admiration, nothing particularly sublime :

"Audivit Deus, et ira exarsit ;

"Et Israëlem cum summo fastidio reiecit."13

But when, a little after, the same subject is depicted in figurative

13 PSAL. lxxviii. 59.

terms, derived from much grosser objects, and applied in a still more daring manner, nothing can be more sublime:

"Tum expergefactus est Dominus veluti ex somno;

"Tanquam Athleta prae vino in clamorem erumpens."14

On the same principle the sublimity of those passages is founded, in which the image is taken from the roaring of a lion, the clamour of rustic labourers, and the rage of wild beasts:

"Ex alto rugiet Iehova;

"Et ex sacrosancto habitaculo edet vocem:
"Horrendum rugiet super sedem suam;
"Edet celeusma sicut calcantes uvas."15

"Et ero illis instar leonis;

"Sicut pardus iuxta viam insidiabor;
"Occurram illis ut ursa orbata,

"Et discerpam eorum praecordia."16

From ideas, which in themselves appear coarse, unsuitable, and totally unworthy of so great an object, the mind naturally recedes, and passes suddenly to the contemplation of the object itself, and of its inherent magnitude and importance.

14 PSAL. lxxviii. 65.

15 JER. XXV. 30.

16 Hos. xiii. 7, 8.

LECTURE XVII.

OF THE SUBLIME OF PASSION.

poe

Sublimity of sentiment as arising from the vehement affections of the mind-What is commonly called enthusiasm is the natural effect of passion: the true enthusiasm arises from the impulse of the Divine Spirit, and is peculiar to the sacred poets-The principal force of try is displayed in the expression of passion in exciting the passions poetry best achieves its purpose, whether it be utility or pleasure-How the passions are excited to the purpose of utility; how to that of pleasure-The difference and connexion between the pathetic and the sublime-That sublimity, which in the sacred poetry proceeds from the imitation of the passions of admiration, of joy, indignation, grief, and terror; illustrated by examples.

We have agreed with Longinus, that a violent agitation of the mind, or impetuosity of passion, constitutes another source of the sublime he calls it "the vehemence and enthusiasm of passion." It will be proper, therefore, in the next place, to consider the nature of this enthusiasm; the principles on which the power of exciting or of imitating the passions in poetry may be supposed to depend; and what affinity subsists between passion and sublimity.

The language of poetry I have more than once described as the effect of mental emotion. Poetry itself is indebted for its origin, character, complexion, emphasis, and application, to the effects which are produced upon the mind and body, upon the imagination, the senses, the voice, and respiration, by the agitation of passion. Every affection of the human soul, while it rages with violence, is a momentary phrenzy. When therefore a poet is able by the force of genius, or rather of imagination, to conceive any emotion of the mind so perfectly as to transfer to his own feelings the instinctive passion of another, and, agreeably to the nature of the subject, to express it in all its vigour, such a one, according to a common mode of speaking, may be said to possess the true poetic enthusiasm,1 or, as the ancients would have expressed it, "to be inspired; full of the God:" not however implying, that their ardour of mind was impart

1 ARISTOTLE expresses it uavizov (insane,) PLATO sxypora (out of their common senses,) veov (inspired by a God,) erovocatorta (enthusiastic.)

ed by the gods, but that this ecstatic impulse became the God of the moment.2

This species of enthusiasm I should distinguish by the term natural, were it not that I should seem to connect things which are really different and repugnant to each other; the true and genuine enthusiasm, that which alone is deserving of the name, that I mean with which the sublimer poetry of the Hebrews, and particularly the prophetic, is animated, is certainly widely different in its nature, and boasts a much higher origin.

As poetry, however, derives its very existence from the more vehement emotions of the mind, so its greatest energy is displayed in the expression of them; and by exciting the passions it more effectually attains its end.

Poetry is said to consist in imitation: whatever the human mind is able to conceive, it is the province of poetry to imitate; things, places, appearances natural and artificial, actions, passions, manners and customs; and since the human intellect is naturally delighted with every species of imitation, that species in particular, which exhibits its own image, which displays and depicts those impulses, inflections, perturbations, and secret emotions, which it perceives and knows in itself, can scarcely fail to astonish and to delight above every other. The delicacy and difficulty of this kind of imitation are among its principal commendations; for to effect that which appears almost impossible, naturally excites our admiration. The understanding slowly perceives the accuracy of the description in all other subjects, and their agreement to their archetypes, as being oblig ed to compare them by the aid and through the uncertain medium, as it were, of the memory but when a passion is expressed, the object is clear and distinct at once; the mind is immediately conscions of itself and its own emotions; it feels and suffers in itself a sensation, either the same or similar to that which is described. Hence that sublimity, which arises from the vehement agitation of the passions, and the imitation of them, possesses a superior influence over the human mind; whatever is exhibited to it from without, may well be supposed to move and agitate it less than what it internally perceives, of the magnitude and force of which it is previously conscious.

And as the imitation or delineation of the passions is the most

2 Nisus ait, Dine hunc ardorem mentibus addunt,

Euryale? an sua cuique deus fit dira cupido? Æneid. ix. 184.

perfect production of poetry, so by exciting them it most completely effects its purpose. The intent of poetry is to profit while it entertains us; and the agitation of the passions, by the force of imitation, is in the highest degree both useful and pleasant.

This method of exciting the passions is, in the first place, useful, when properly and lawfully exercised; that is, when these passions are directed to their proper end, and rendered subservient to the dictates of nature and truth; when an aversion to evil, and a love of goodness is excited; and if the poet deviate on any occasion from this great end and aim, he is guilty of a most scandalous abuse and perversion of his art. For the passions and affections are the elements and principles of human action; they are all in themselves good, useful, and virtuous; and, when fairly and naturally employed, not only lead to useful ends and purposes, but actually prompt and stimulate to virtue. It is the office of poetry to incite, to direct, to temper the passions, and not to extinguish them. It professes to exercise, to amend, to discipline the affections: it is this which is strictly meant by Aristotle, when he speaks of the pruning of the passions, though certain commentators have strangely perverted his meaning.

But this operation on the passions is also more immediately useful, because it is productive of pleasure. Every emotion of the mind, (not excepting even those which in themselves are allied to pain) when excited through the agency of the imitative arts, is ever accompanied with an exquisite sensation of pleasure. This arises partly from the contemplation of the imitation itself; partly from the consciousness of our own felicity, when compared with the miseries of others; but principally from the moral sense. Nature has endued man with a certain social and generous spirit; and commands him not to confine his cares to himself alone, but to extend them to all his fellow creatures; to look upon nothing which relates to mankind as foreign to himself. Thus "to rejoice with them that do rejoice, and to weep with them that weep;" to love and to respect piety and benevolence; to cherish and retain an indignant hatred of cruelty and injustice; that is, to obey the dictates of nature; is right, is honest, is becoming, is pleasant.

The sublime and the pathetic are intrinsically very different; and yet have in some respects a kind of affinity or connexion. The pathetic includes the passions which we feel, and those which we excite. Some passions may be expressed without any thing of the