againft this offence^ by affuing a penalty and dajm». which he did i^ot think quite fcj
becoming
Book IV. NARRATIVES, DIALOGUES, &c. aSi
becoming for one of his cloth to make free
with. 1 would recommend it to our people
of fafhion to make ufe of the like innocent
phrafes, whenever they are obliged to have
recourfe to thefe fubftitutes for thought and
cxpjeffion. *' Bottle and glafs" might be
introduced with great energy in the table-
talk at the King's Arms or St. Alban's ta-
verns. The gamefter might be indulged,
without offence, in fwearing by the '* knave
of clubs," or the " curfe of Scotland ;" or
he might with fomc propriety retain the old
execration of '* the deuce take it." The
beau fhould be allowed to fwear by his
*• gracious felf," which is the god of his
idolatry ; and the common expletives Ihould
confift only of " upon my word, and upon
rny honour ;" which terms, whatever fenfe
they might formerly bear, are at prefent
underllood only as words of courfe without
meaning. Ccmioijfeur.
^ 90. Sympathy a Source of the Sublime,
It is by the paiTion of fympathy that we
enter into the concerns of others ; that wt
are moved as they are moved, and are never
fuffered to be indifferent fpeftators of almoft
any thing which men can do or fuffer. For
fympathy muft be confidered as a fort of
fubllitution, by which we are put into the
jplace of another man, and affecled in a good
meafure as he is afFefted ; fo that this paf-
fion may either partake of the nature of
thofe which regard felf-prefervation, and
turning upon pain may be a fource of the
fublime; or it may turn upon ideas of plea-
fure, and then, whatever has been faid of
the focial affeftions, whether they regard
focioty in general, or only feme particular
modes of it, may be applicable here.
It is by this principle chiefly that poetry,
painting, and other affefting arts, transfufe
their paffions from one breaif to another,
and are often capable of grafting a delight
on wretchednefs, mifery, and death itfelf.
It is a common obfervation, that objefts,
which in the reality would fhcck, are, in
tragical and fuch-like reprefentations, the
fource of a very high fpecies of pleafure.
This, taken as a faft, has been the caufe of
much reafoning. This fatisfaftion has been
commonly attributed, firft, to the comfort
we receive in confidering that fo melancholy
a ftory is no more than a fidion ; and next,
to the contemplation of our own freedom
from the evils we fee reprefented. I am
afraid it is a prafticemuch too common, in
enquiries of this nature, to attribute the
(Cai^fe of feelings which merely arife froiji
the mechanical ftrufture of our bodies, or
from the natural frame and conftitution of
our minds, to certain conclufions of tlie
reafoning faculty on the objeds prefented to
us ; for I have fome reafon to apprehend,
that the influence of reafon in producing our
paflions is nothing near fo extenfive as is
commonly believed. Burke on the Sublime.
§91. Effeas of Sympathy in the Difirejfes of
others.
To examine this point concerning the
effeft of tragedy in a proper manner, we
muft previoufly confider, how we are af-
fefted by the feelings of our fellow-creatures
in circumftances of real diftrefs. I am con-
vinced we have a degree of delight, and
that no fmall one, in the real misfortunes
and pains of others ; for, let the afFeftion be
what it will in appearance, if it does not
make us fhun fuch objeds, if, on the con-
trary, it induces us to approach them, if it
makes us dwell upon them, in this cafe I
conceive we muft have a delight or plea-
fure, of fome fpecies or other, in contem-
plating objedls of this kind. Do we not
read the authentic hiftories of fcenes of this
nature with as much pleafure as romances or
poems, where the incidents are iiftitious ?
The profperity of no empire, nor the gran-
deur of no king, can fo agreeably affeft in
the reading, as theruinof the ftate of Mace-
don, and the diftrefs of its unhappy prince.
Such a cataftrophe touches us in hiftory, as
much as the deftruftion of Troy does in
fable. Our delight in cafes of this kind is
very greatly heightened, if the fufferer be
fome excellent perfon who finks under aa
unworthy fortune. Scipio and Cato are
both virtuous characters; but we are more
deeply affec^ted by the violent death of the
one, and the ruin of the great caufe he
adhered to, than with the deferved triumphs
and uninterrupted profperity of the other;
for terror is a pafTion which ahraj's produces
delight when it does not prefs too clofe, and
pity is a pafTion accompanied with pleafure,
becaufe it arifes from love and focial affec-
tion. Whenever we are formed by nature
to any aftive purpofe, the paffion which
animates us to it is attended with delight,
or a pleafure of fome kind, let the fubjedl
matter be what it will ; and as our Creator
has defigned we fhould be united together
by fo ftrong a bond as thatof f^ympathy, he
has therefore twifted along v/ith it a propor-
tionable quantity of this ingredient; and
alwaj's in the greateft proportion where our
fympathy is moft wanted, in the diftreflesof
others.
282
ELEGANT EXTRACTS,
Book IV.
others. If this paffion was fimply painful, weeps out of compaffion and tendernefs of
we fhould fhun, with the greateii care, all nature, when in the temple of Carthage he
perfons and places that could excite fuch a beholds the pictures of his friends, who
paffion ; as fome, who are fo far gone in facrificed their lives in defence of their
indolence as not to endure any ftrong im- country. He deplores the lamentable end
preflion, aClually do. But the cafe is widely of his pilot Palinurus ; the untimely death
different with the greater part of mankind ; of young Pallas his confederate ; and the
there is no fpeftacle we fo eagerly purfue,
as that of fome uncommon and grievous
calamity ; fo that whether the misfortune is
before our eyes, or whether they are turned
back to it in hiftory, it always touches
with delight ; but it is not an unmixed de-
light, but blended with no fmall uneafmefs.
The delight we have in fuch things, hinders weeps but trembles
us from Ihunning fcenes of mifery ; and the ftorm :
pain we feel, prompts us to
reft, which I omit. Yet even for thefe
tears, his wretched critics dare condemn
him. They make Eneas little better than
a kind of St. Swithin's hero, always rain-
ing. One of thefe cenfors is bold enough
to arraign him of cowardice, when, in the
beginning of the firft book, he not only
at an approaching
relieve our-
Extemplo ^Eneae folvuntur frigore membra
felves in relieving thofe who fuffer ; and all 1,;^^,^^^, et duplices tendens ad lidcra palmas, &c
this antecedent to any reafonmg, by an in-
ftinft that works us to its own purpofes,
without our concurrence.
Burke on the Sublime.
§ 92. Tears not imnuorthy of a?z Hero.
But to this I have anfwered formerly,
that his fear was not for himfelf, but his
people. And what can give a fovereign a
better commendation, or recommend a hero
more to the affeftion of the reader ? They
If tears are arguments of cowardice, what were threatened with a tempeft, and he
fhall 1 fay of Homer's hero? Shall Achilles wept; he was promifed Italy, and therefore
pafs for timorous becaufe he wept, and wept he prayed for the accomplifhment of that
on lefs cccafions than Eneas ? Herein Virgil
muft be granted to have excelled his mafter.
For once both heroes are defcribed lament-
ing their loft loves : Brifeis was taken away
by force from the Grecian ; Crenfa was loft
for t\tx to her huftjand. But Achilles went
roaring along the fait fea-ftiore, and like a
booby was complaining to his mother, when
he ftiould have revenged his injury by his
arms. Eneas took a nobler courfe; for,
having fecured his father and fon, he re-
peated all his former dangers to have found
his wife, if {he had been above ground.
And here your lordftiip may obferve the
addrefs of Virgil; it was not for nothing
that this paffage was related with all thefe all its povvcrsof adling andreafoning asfear;
tender circumftances. Eneas told it; Dido for fear being an appreheniion of pain or
heard it. That he had been fo affectionate death, it operates in a manner that refem-
ii huftiand, was no ill argument 'to the bles actual pain. Whatever therefore is
coming dowager, that he might prove as terrible with regard to fight, is fublime too,
kind to her. Virgil has a thoufand fecret whether this caufe of terror be endued with
beauties^ though 1 have not leifure to re- greatnefs of dimenfions or not ; for it is im-
mark them. poffible to look on any thing as trifling or
Segrais, on this fubjeft of a hero fhed- contemptible, that may be dangerous. There
fling tears, obferves, that hiftorians com- are many animals, who, though far from
mend Alexander for weeping, when he read being large, are yet capable of raifing ideas
the mighty anions of Achilles ; and Julius of the fublime, becaufe they are confidered
Casfar is likewife praifed, when, out of the as objefts of terror : as ferpents and poifon-
fame noble envy, he wept at the viftories ot ous animals of ahrrtoft all kinds. Even to
promife. AH this in the beginning of a
ftorm ; therefore he (hewed the more early
piety, and the quicker fenfe of compaffion.
Thus much I have urged elfewhere in the
defence of Virgil ; and fmce I have been
informed b}' Mr. Moyl, a young gentleman
whom I can never fufticiently commend,
that the ancients accounted drowning an
accurfed death. So that if we grant him to
have been afraid, he had juft occalion for
that fear, both in relation to himfelf and to
his fubjefts. Dryden.
§ 93. Terror a Source of the Sublime,
No paftion fo effeftually robs the mind of
Alexander. But if we obferve more clofely,
we fhall find that the tears of Eneas were
always on a laudable eccafion. Thus he
things of great dimenfions, if we annex any
adventitious idea of terror, they become
without coraparifon greater. A" even plain
•f
PookIV. narratives, dialogues, &c.
of a vaft extent on land, is certainly no
mean idea ; theprofpect of fuch a plain may
be as extenfive as a profpeft of the ocean ;
but can it ever fill the mind with any thing
fo great as the ocean itfelf ? This is owing
\ to feveral caufes, but it is owing to none
; roore than to this, that the ocean is an objeft
!of no fmall terror. Burie or: the Sublime.
§ 94. Tragedy compared ivith Epic Poetry.
To raife, and afterwards to calm the
ilpaflions; to purge the foul from pride, by
j the examples of human miferies which befal
j the greateft ; in few words, to expel arro-
gance and introduce compaffion, are the
i greateft effefts of tragedy. Great, I muft
confefs, if they were altogether as lafting as
they are pompous. But are habits to be in-
troduced at three hours warning ? are radical
difeafes fo fuddenly removed ? A mounte-
bank may promife fuch a cure, but a fkilful
phyfician will not undertake it. An epic
poem is not fo much in hafte; it v.'orks
leifurely ; the changes which it makes are
flow; but the cure is likely to be more per-
feft. The effeds of tragedy, as I faid, are
too violent to be lafting. If it be anfwered,
that for this reafon tragedies are often to be
feen, and the dofe to be repeated ; this is
tacitly to confefs, that there is more virtue
in one heroic poem, than in many trage-
dies. A man is humbled one day, and his
pride returns the next. Chymical medi-
cines are obferved to relieve oftener than to
cure; for 'tis the nature of fpirits to make
fwift irapreflions, but not deep. Galenical
decoftions, to which I may properly com-
pare an epic poem, have more of body in
them ; they work by their fubftance and
their weight. It is one reafon of Ariftotle's
to prove that tragedy is the more noble,
becaufe it turns in a Ihorter compafs; the
whole aftion being circumfcribed within
the fpace of four-and-twenty hours. He
might prove as well that a mufliroom is to
be preferred before a peach, becaufe it fhoots
up in the compafs of a night. A chariot
may be driven round the pillar in lefs fpace
than a large machine, becaufe the bulk is
not fo great. Is the moon a more noble
planet than Saturn, becaufe (he makes her
revolution in lefs than thirty days ; and he
in little lefs than thirty years ? Both their
orbs are in proportion to their feveral mag-
nitudes ; and, confequently, the quicknefs
or flownefs of their motion, and the time
of their circumvolutions, is no argument of
the greater or lefs perfeftion. And befides,
what virtue is there in a tragedy, which is
2S3
not contained in an epic poem ? where
pride is humbled, virtue rewarded, and
vice punilhed ; and thofe more amply treat-
ed, than the narrownefs of the drama can
admit ? The ftiining quality of an epic
hero, his magnanimity, his conttancy, his
patience, his piety, or whatever charaderif-
tical virtue his poet gives him, raifes firfl:
our admiration : we are naturally prone to
imitate what we admire; and frequent afts
produce a habit. If the hero's chief quality-
be vicious, as, for example, the choler and
obftinate defire of vengeance in Achilles,
yet the moral is inftrufti^^e : and befides,
we are informed in the very proportion of
the Iliad, that this anger was pernicious :
that it brought a thoufand ills on the Gre-
cian camp. The courage of Achilles is
propofed to imitation, not his pride and dif-
obedience to his general, nor his brutal
cruelty to his dead enemyj nor the felling
his body to his father : we abhor thofe
adions while we read them, and what we
abhor we never imitate: the poet only
fhews them, like rocks or quickfands, to be
fhunned. â–
By this example the critics have con-
cluded, that it is not neceffary the manners
of the hero fhould be virtuous. They are
poetically good, if they are of a piece.
Though where a charafter of perfeft virtue
is fet before us, 'tis more lovely ; for there
the whole hero is to be imitated. This is
the Eneas of Virgil; this is that idea of
perfedion in an epic poem, which painters
and ftatuaries have only in their minds, and
which no hands are able to exprefs. Thefe
are the beauties of a god in a human body.
When the pidure of Achilles is drawn in
tragedy, he is taken with thofe warts and
moles, and hard features, by thofe who re-
prefent him on the ftage, or he is no more
Achilles ; for his creator Homer has fo de-
fcribed him. Yet even thus he appears a
perfed hero, though an imperfed charader
of virtue. Horace paints him after Homer,
and delivers him to be copied on the ftage
with all thofe imperfedions ; therefore they
are either not faults in an heroic poem, or
faults common to the drama. After all, on
the whole merits of the cafe, it muft be ac-
knowledged, that the epic poem is more for
the manners, and tragedy for the paflions.
The pailions, as I have feid, are violent;
and acute diftempers require medicines of a
ftrong and fpeedy operation. Ill habits of
the mind and chronical difeafes are to be
correded by degrees, and cured by altera-
tives : wherein though purges are fo.netimcs
neceiiaryj
aS4-
ELEGANT EXTRACTS,
Book IV.
'neceflary, yet diet, good air, and'moderate
exercife, have the greateft part. The mat-
ter being thus ftated, it will appear that
both forts of poetry are of ufe for their
proper ends. The ftage is aftive, the epic
poem works at greater leifure, yet is adtive
too, when need requires: for dialogue is
imitated by the drama, from the more ac-
tive parts of it. One puts off a fit like the
quinquina, and relieves us only for a time ;
the other roots out the diftemper, and gives
a healthful habit. The fun enlightens and
chears us, difpels fogs, and warms the
ground with his daily beams ; but the corn
is fowed, increafes, is ripened, and reaped
for ufe, in procefs of time, and its proper
feafon. I proceed from the greatnefs of the
aftion to the dignity of the aftors ; I mean,
to the perfons employed in both poeins.
There likewife tragedy will be feen to bor-
row from the epopee ; and that v»?hich bor-
rows is always of lefs dignity, becaufe it has
not of its own. A fubjedt, 'tis true, may
lend to his fovereign ; but the aft of bor-
rowing makes the king inferior, becaufe he
wants, and the fubjeft fupplies. And fup-
pofe the perfons of the drama wholly fabu-
lous, or of the poet's invention, yet heroic
poetry gave him the examples of that inven-
tion ; becaufe it was firft, and Homer the
common father of the ftage. I know not of
any one advantage which Tragedy can boaft
above heroic poetry, but that it is repre-
fented to the view, as well as read ; and in-
ftrufts jn the clofet, as well as on the theatre.
This is an uncontefted excellence, and a
chief branch of its prerogative ; yet I may
be allowed to fay, without partiality, that
herein the aftors Ibare the poet's praife.
Your lordlhip knows fome modern tragedies
which are beautiful on the ftage, and yet I
am confident you would not read them.
Tryphon, the ftationer, complains they are
feldom alked for in his (hop. The poet who
fiouriftied in the fcene, is damned in the
ncl/e ; nay more, he is not efteemed a good
poet, by thofe who fee and hear his ex-
travagances with delight. They are a fort
of ftately fuftian and lofty childifhnefs.
Nothing but nature can give a fmcere plea-
fure : wherethat is not imitated, 'tis gro-
tefque painting ; the fine woman ends in a
fifti's tail. Drjden.
§ 95. Hifiory of Tranjlations.
Among the ftudies which have cxerclfed
the ingenious and the learned for more than
three centuries, none has been more dili-
gently or more fuccefsfully cultivated than
theartof tran/Iation; by which the impedi-
ments which bar the vvay to fcience are, in
,fome meafure, removed, and the multiplicity
of languages becomes lefs incommodious.
Of every other kind of writing the an-
cients have left us models which all fucceed-
ing ages have laboured to imitate; but
tranllation may juftly be claimed by the
moderns as their own. In the firft ages of
the world inftruftion was commonly oral,
and learning traditional, and what was not
written could not be tranflated. When
alphabetical writing made the conveyance of
opinions and the tranfmifiion of events more
eafy and certain, literature did not flourifh
in more than one country at once> for
diftant nations had little commerce with each
other, and thofe few whom curiofity fent
abroad in queft of improvement, delivered
their acquifitions in their own manner, de-
firous perhaps to be confidered as the in-
ventors of that which they had learned from
others.
The Greeks for a time travelled into
Egypt, but they tranflated no books from
the Egyptian language; and when the
Macedonians had overthrown the empire of
Perfia, the countries that became fubjeft to
the Grecian dominion ftudied only the
Grecian literature. The books of the con-
quered nations, if they had any among them,
funk in oblivion; Gr ece confidered herielf
as the miftrefs, if not as the parent of arts,
her language contained all that was fuppofed
to be known, and, except the facred writ-
ings of the Old Teftament, 1 know not that
the library of Alexandria adopted any thing
from a foreign tongue.
The Romans confeffed therafelves the
fcholars of the Greeks, and do not appear
to have expefted, what has fmce happened,
that the ignorance of fucceeding ages would
prefer them to their teachers. Every man
who in Rome afpired to the praife of litera-
ture, thought it neceffary to learn Greek,
and had no need of verfions when they could
ftudy the originals. Tranllation, however,
was not wholly neglefted. Dramatic poems
could be underftood by the people in no
language but their own, and the Romans
were fometimes entertained with the trage-
dies of Euripides and the comedies of Me-
nander. Other works were fometimes at-
tempted ; in an old fcholiaft there is men-
tion of a Latin Iliad, and we have not
wholly loft TuUy's verfion of the poem of
Aratus; but it does not appear that any
man grew eminent by interpreting another,
and perhaps it was more frequent to tranf-
late
Book IV. NARRATIVES, DIALOGUES, &c.
285
late for exercife or amufement than for
fame.
The Arabs were the firft nation who felt
the ardour of tranflatioii ; v. hen they had
fubdued the eaftern provinces of the Greek
empire, they found their captives wifer than
themfelves, and made hatle to relieve their
wants by imparted knowledge. They dif-
covered that many might grow wife by the
labour of a few, and that improvements
might be made with fpeed, wlien they had
the knowledge of former ages in their own
language. They therefore made hafte to
lay hold en medicine and philofophy, and
turned their chief authors into Arabic.
Whether they attempted the poets is not
known; their literary zeal was vehement,
but it was fhort, and probably expired be-
fore they had time to add the arts of ele-
gance to thofe of neceffity.
The ftudy of ancient literature was in-
terrupted in Europe by the irruption of the
northern nations, who fubverted the Ro-
man empire, and ereded new kingdoms
with new languages. It is not fti-ange, that
fuch confufion fhould fufpend literary at-
tention : thofe who loft, and thofe who
gained dominion, had immediate diiiiculties
to encounter, and immediate miferies to re-
drefs, and had little leifure, araidft the
violence of war, the trepidation of flight,
the diftreiTes of forced migration, or the
tumults of unfettled conqueft, to enquire
after fpeculative truth, to enjoy the amufe-
ment of imaginary adventures, to know the
hiftory of former ages, or ftudy the events
of any otiier lives. But no fooner had this
chaos of dominion funk, into order, than
learning began again to flourifh in the calm
of peace. When life and pofieflions were
fecure, convenience and enjoyment were
foon fought, learning was found the higheft
gratification of the mind, and tranllation
became one of the means by which it was
imparted.
At laft, by a concurrence of many caufes,
the European world was roufcd from its
lethargy ; thofe arts which had been long
obfcurely ftudied in the gloom of monafte-
ries became the general favourites of man-
kind ; every nation vied with its neighbour
for the prize of learning ; the epidemical
emulation fpread^from fouth to north, and
curiofity and tranflation found their way to
Britain.
He that reviews the progrefs ofEnglifh
literature, will find that tranflation was very
early cultivated among us, but that fome
principles, either wholly erroneous, or too
I
far extended, hindered our fuccefs from be-
ing always equal to our diligence.
Chaucer, who is generally confidered as
the father of our poetry, has left a verfion
of Eoetius on the Comforts of Philofophy,
the book which feems to have been the
favourite cf middle ages, which had been
tranflated into Saxon by king Alfred, and
illuftrated with a copious comment afcribed
to Aquinas. It may be fuppofed that Chaucer
would apply more than coraTSb'h attention
to an author of fo much celebrity, yet he
has attempted nothing higher than a yerfioa
ftrictly literal, and has degraded the poetical
parts to profe, that the conftraint of verfifi-
cation might not obftrud his zeal for fidelity.
Caxton taught us typography about the
year 1490. The firft book printed in Eng-
lifh was a tranflation. Caxton was both
the tranflator and printer of the Deftruccion
of Troye, a book which, in that infancy of
learning, was confidered as the beft accounts,
of the fabulous ages, and which, though
now driven out of notice by authors of no
greater ufe or value, ftill continued to be
read in Caxton's Englifh to the beginning
of the prefent century.
Caxton proceeded as he began, and, ex-
cept the poems of Gower and Chaucer,
printed nothing but tranflations from the
French, in which the original is fo fcrupu-
loufly followed, that they aftbrd us little
knowledge of our own language; though
the words are Englifh, the phrafe is foreign.
As learning advanced, new works were
adopted into our language, but I think with
little improvement of the art of tranflation,
though foreign nations and other languages
offered us models of a better method ; till
in the age of Elizabeth we began to find that
greater liberty was neceflfary to elegance,
and that elegance was neceflary to general
reception ; fomeeffays were then made upon
the Italian poets, which deferve the praife
and gratitude of pofterity.
Eut the old pradice was not fuddenly
forfaken ; Holland filled the nation with
literal tranflation, and, what is yet more