of tragedy-第2章

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from　the　sentiments　of　beauty。　The　latter；　being　the　predominant

emotion；　seize　the　whole　mind；　and　convert　the　former　into

themselves；　at　least　tincture　them　so　strongly　as　totally　to

alter　their　nature。　And　the　soul；　being；　at　the　same　time；　rouzed

by　passion；　and　charmed　by　eloquence；　feels　on　the　whole　a　strong

movement；　which　is　altogether　delightful。

　　　　　The　same　principle　takes　place　in　tragedy；　with　this

addition；　that　tragedy　is　an　imitation；　and　imitation　is　always

of　itself　agreeable。　This　circumstance　serves　still　farther　to

smooth　the　motions　of　passion；　and　convert　the　whole　feeling　into

one　uniform　and　strong　enjoyment。　Objects　of　the　greatest　terror

and　distress　please　in　painting；　and　please　more　than　the　most

beautiful　objects；　that　appear　calm　and　indifferent。＇3＇　The

affection；　rousing　the　mind；　excites　a　large　stock　of　spirit　and

vehemence；　which　is　all　transformed　into　pleasure　by　the　force　of

the　prevailing　movement。　It　is　thus　the　fiction　of　tragedy

softens　the　passion；　by　an　infusion　of　a　new　feeling；　not　merely

by　weakening　or　diminishing　the　sorrow。　You　may　by　degrees　weaken

a　real　sorrow；　till　it　totally　disappears；　yet　in　none　of　its

graduations　will　it　ever　give　pleasure；　except；　perhaps；　by

accident；　to　a　man　sunk　under　lethargic　indolence；　whom　it　rouzes

from　that　languid　state。

　　　　　To　confirm　this　theory；　it　will　be　sufficient　to　produce

other　instances；　where　the　subordinate　movement　is　converted　into

the　predominant；　and　gives　force　to　it；　though　of　a　different；

and　even　sometimes　though　of　a　contrary　nature。

　　　　　Novelty　naturally　rouzes　the　mind；　and　attracts　our

attention；　and　the　movements；　which　it　causes；　are　always

converted　into　any　passion；　belonging　to　the　object；　and　join

their　force　to　it。　Whether　an　event　excite　joy　or　sorrow；　pride

or　shame；　anger　or　good…will；　it　is　sure　to　produce　a　stronger

affection；　when　new　or　unusual。　And　though　novelty　of　itself　be

agreeable；　it　fortifies　the　painful；　as　well　as　agreeable

passions。

　　　　　Had　you　any　intention　to　move　a　person　extremely　by　the

narration　of　any　event；　the　best　method　of　encreasing　its　effect

would　be　artfully　to　delay　informing　him　of　it；　and　first　to

excite　his　curiosity　and　impatience　before　you　let　him　into　the

secret。　This　is　the　artifice　practised　by　Iago　in　the　famous

scene　of　Shakespeare；　and　every　spectator　is　sensible；　that

Othello's　jealousy　acquires　additional　force　from　his　preceding

impatience；　and　that　the　subordinate　passion　is　here　readily

transformed　into　the　predominant　one。

　　　　　Difficulties　encrease　passions　of　every　kind；　and　by　rouzing

our　attention；　and　exciting　our　active　powers；　they　produce　an

emotion；　which　nourishes　the　prevailing　affection。

　　　　　Parents　commonly　love　that　child　most；　whose　sickly　infirm

frame　of　body　has　occasioned　them　the　greatest　pains；　trouble；

and　anxiety　in　rearing　him。　The　agreeable　sentiment　of　affection

here　acquires　force　from　sentiments　of　uneasiness。

　　　　　Nothing　endears　so　much　a　friend　as　sorrow　for　his　death。

The　pleasure　of　his　company　has　not　so　powerful　an　influence。

　　　　　Jealousy　is　a　painful　passion；　yet　without　some　share　of　it；

the　agreeable　affection　of　love　has　difficulty　to　subsist　in　its

full　force　and　violence。　Absence　is　also　a　great　source　of

complaint　among　lovers；　and　gives　them　the　greatest　uneasiness：

Yet　nothing　is　more　favourable　to　their　mutual　passion　than　short

intervals　of　that　kind。　And　if　long　intervals　often　prove　fatal；

it　is　only　because；　through　time；　men　are　accustomed　to　them；　and

they　cease　to　give　uneasiness。　Jealousy　and　absence　in　love

compose　the　　of　the　Italians；　which　they　suppose

so　essential　to　all　pleasure。

　　　　　There　is　a　fine　observation　of　the　elder　Pliny；　which

illustrates　the　principle　here　insisted　on。　；　says　he；　。'＇4＇

　　　　　These　instances　（and　many　more　might　be　collected）　are

sufficient　to　afford　us　some　insight　into　the　analogy　of　nature；

and　to　show　us；　that　the　pleasure；　which　poets；　orators；　and

musicians　give　us；　by　exciting　grief；　sorrow；　indignation；

compassion；　is　not　so　extraordinary　or　paradoxical；　as　it　may　at

first　sight　appear。　The　force　of　imagination；　the　energy　of

expression；　the　power　of　numbers；　the　charms　of　imitation；　all

these　are　naturally；　of　themselves；　delightful　to　the　mind：　And

when　the　object　presented　lays　also　hold　of　some　affection；　the

pleasure　still　rises　upon　us；　by　the　conversion　of　this

subordinate　movement　into　that　which　is　predominant。　The　passion；

though；　perhaps；　naturally；　and　when　excited　by　the　simple

appearance　of　a　real　object；　it　may　be　painful；　yet　is　so

smoothed；　and　softened；　and　mollified；　when　raised　by　the　finer

arts；　that　it　affords　the　highest　entertainment。

　　　　　To　confirm　this　reasoning；　we　may　observe；　that　if　the

movements　of　the　imagination　be　not　predominant　above　those　of

the　passion；　a　contrary　effect　follows；　and　the　former；　being　now

subordinate；　is　converted　into　the　latter；　and　still　farther

encreases　the　pain　and　affliction　of　the　sufferer。

　　　　　Who　could　ever　think　of　it　as　a　good　expedient　for

comforting　an　afflicted　parent；　to　exaggerate；　with　all　the　force

of　elocution；　the　irreparable　loss；　which　he　has　met　with　by　the

death　of　a　favourite　child　？　The　more　power　of　imagination　and

expression　you　here　employ；　the　more　you　encrease　his　despair　and

affliction。

　　　　　The　shame；　confusion；　and　terror　of　Verres；　no　doubt；　rose

in　proportion　to　the　noble　eloquence　and　vehemence　of　Cicero：　So

also　did　his　pain　and　uneasiness。　These　former　passions　were　too

strong　for　the　pleasure　arising　from　the　beauties　of　elocution；

and　operated；　though　from　the　same　principle；　yet　in　a　contrary

manner；　to　the　sympathy；　compassion；　and　indignation　of　the

audience。

　　　　　Lord　Clarendon；　when　he　approaches　towards　the　catastrophe

of　the　royal　party；　supposes；　that　his　narration　must　then　become

infinite＇y　disagreeable；　and　he　hurries　over　the　king's　death；

without　giving　us　one　circumstance　of　it。　He　considers　it　as　too

horrid　a　scene　to　be　contemplated　with　any　satisfaction；　or　even

without　the　utmost　pain　and　aversion。　He　himself；　as　well　as　the

readers　of　that　age；　were　too　deeply　concerned　in　the　events；　and

felt　a　pain　from　subjects；　which　an　historian　and　a　reader　of

another　age　would　regard　as　the　most　pathetic　and　most

interesting；　and；　by　consequence；　the　most　agreeable。

　　　　　An　action；　represented　in　tragedy；　may　be　too　bloody　and

atrocious。　It　may　excite　such　movements　of　horror　as　will　not

soften　into　pleasure；　and　the　greatest　energy　of　expression；

bestowed　on　descriptions　of　that　nature；　serves　only　to　augment

our　uneasiness。　Such　is　that　action　represented　in　the　；　where　a　venerable　old　man；　raised　to　the　height　of

fury　and　despair；　rushes　against　a　pillar；　and　striking　his　head

upon　it；　besmears　it　all　over　with　mingled　brains　and　gore。　The

English　theatre　abounds　too　much　with　such　shocking　images。

　　　　　Even　the　common　sentiments　of　compassion　require　to　be

softened　by　some　agreeable　affection；　in　order　to　give　a　thorough

satisfaction　to　the　audience。　The　mere　suffering　of　plaintive

virtue；　under　the　triumphant　tyranny　and　oppression　of　vice；

forms　a　disagreeable　spectacle；　and　is　carefully　avoided　by　all

masters　of　the　drama。　In　order　to　dismiss　the　audience　with

entire　satisfaction　and　contentment；　the　virtue　must　either

convert　itself　into　a　noble　courageous　despair；　or　the　vice

receive　its　proper　punishment。

　　　　　Most　painters　appear　in　this　light　to　have　been