Page images
PDF
EPUB

Literature was his predominant passion, and of course triumphed in the struggle. Let then the example of this illustrious heathen warn Christians of their duty. Let them believe that a book that could arrest the approbation of Longinus, is at least worthy of being read. Thousands and thousands professing Christianity, have dwelt with rapture on the passages of Homer, which this critic has cited with approbation, while they feel no pleasure in his commendation of the book on which their temporal and eternal happiness is dependent. May it not be a paradox in the ears of future ages to be told that the Scriptures were reverenced by an heathen and despised by a Christian? It is much to be lamented that the system of ancient mythology, which swayed the mind of Longinus, prevented him from taking a large and expanded view of a question so important. He could not break the fetters of his idolatry, and contrast the puny Jove of Homer with that mighty Deity, who is the object of our adoration. Homer, as before remarked, was confessedly the idol of Longinus, and he has deigned to cast an eye of approbation on the writings of Moses. Let us then compare the presence which the Sovereign of the universe makes in the two volumes. Homer thus describes the flight of Jupiter to mount Ida, to survey the battle between the Trojans and the Greeks:

"He call'd his coursers, and his chariot took,
The stedfast firmament beneath them shook:
Rapt by the etherial steeds, the chariot roll'd,
Brass were their hoofs, their curling manes of gold:
Of Heav'n's undrossy gold the god's array,

Refulgent, flash'd intolerable day.

High on the throne he shines; his coursers fly
Between th' extended earth and starry sky.
But when to Ida's topmost height he came,
(Fair nurse of fountains and of savage game);
There from his radiant car the sacred sire
Of men and gods releas'd the steeds of fire.
Blue ambient mists the immortal steeds embrac'd;

High on the cloudy point his seat he plac'd;
Thence his broad eye the subject world surveys,

The town and tents and navigable seas."

Here, the chariot of the heathen deity appears peculiarly

1

grand-the firmament is made to tremble under the coursers' feet; but the god himself seems subordinate: he is indeed represented as "shining on his throne;" but this part of the description is so general, and the other so minute, that our eyes turn involuntarily to the contemplation of his chariot. To this we may oppose with success the following passage from the Psalms: "He bowed the heavens, and came down, and darkness was under his feet. And he rode upon a cherub, and did fly, yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness his secret place, his pavilion round about was dark waters, and thick clouds of the skies. At the brightness that was before him his thick clouds past, hailstones and coals of fire." Here we behold a picture, not portrayed with the serenity of Homer's pencil. All is tumultuous, awful, grand and majestic. Here is strikingly displayed the amazing difference between fancy and inspiration. Homer enters the presence of his Deity with a familiarity untempered with awe, and conscious of the elevation of his subject -he leisurely meditates, he heightens, he embellishes. On the other hand the Psalmist, full of divine horror at the spectacle, pours forth his description with all the tumult of prophetic fear, and appears to tremble and recoil while he speaks. The heavens are shaken by the presence of the Deity, the mighty winds, the vehicles of his movements; but when we venture to prolong our gaze, and to ascertain the appearance of an object so terrific, the Psalmist, sinking beneath the weight of inspiration, exclaims, “darkness was his secret place, his pavilion round about was darkness and thick clouds of the skies." This has been the custom with the most celebrated masters of the pencil to veil with benevolent darkness what they felt themselves incompetent to execute, and to leave to the agitated imagination of the spectator to supply the deficiency of their pencils. How poor does Homer's Ida appear, when contrasted with Sinai; those two mountains, which were made the respective residences of the heathen and Christian Deities? "And it came to pass on the third day in the morning, that there were thunders and lightnings, and a thick cloud upon the mount (Sinai), and the voice of the trumpet exceeding loud, so that all the people that was in the camp trembled." "And all the people saw the thunderings and the

lightnings; and heard the noise of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking, and when the people saw it, they removed and stood afar off." Here we observe the same magnificent harbingers as David did announcing the approach of the Deity, and the same terrific darkness involving his presence. Longinus cites the following passage from Homer as an instance of the sublime, and soars into raptures in his comments. The inferior divinities, by Jove's permission, mingle in the Grecian and Trojan contests.

"But when the powers descending swell'd the fight,
Then Tumult rose; fierce Rage and pale Affright
Varied each face; then Discord sounds alarms,
Earth echoes, and the nations rush to arms.
Now through the trembling shores Minerva calls,
And now she thunders from the Grecian walls.
Mars, hov'ring o'er his Troy, his terror shrouds
In gloomy tempests and a night of clouds;
Now through each Trojan heart he fury pours,
With voice divine from Ilion's topmost towers;
Now shoots to Simois from her beauteous hill-
The mountain shook, the rapid stream stood still.
Above, the Sire of gods his thunder rolls,
And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles.
Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid ground,
The forests wave, the mountains nod around:
Through all their summits tremble Ida's woods,
And from their sources boil her hundred floods.
Troy's turrets totter on the rocking plain,
And the tost navies beat the heaving main.

Deep in the dismal regions of the dead,

Th' infernal monarch rear'd his horrid head,

Leapt from the throne, lest Neptune's arm should lay
His dark dominions open to the day,

And pour in light on Pluto's drear abodes,
Abhorr'd by men, and dreadful even to gods.

Such war th' immortals wage, such horrors rend

The world's vast concave when the gods contend."

There is not probably a passage in all Homer, that condenses more sublimity than the present one. We may be allowed to remark, that as all the heathen deities were agents, it behoved the

poet to give full reins to his fancy, to meet the majesty of his subject. Whatever an uninspired imagination could do, has accordingly been done. The great objects of nature are grouped together with a happy facility, and we feel a sublime composure while we dwell upon the spectacle. Our minds are exhilarated and delighted; but there is a vacancy left. We admire the stretch and extent of the poet's imagination, and are pleased with such exquisite architecture, composed of such frail and frangible materials. Amidst all this bustle and tumult there is an agent wanting, of sufficient dignity to excite it, and when the real one appears, we wonder why he was ushered in with such preparatory dread. The very Deity, who is the cause of all this disturbance, when he participates in the battle, will act the part of a common soldier or a prophet, as the case may require. We naturally then compare his introduction with his agency, and ascribe exclusively to the poet what he intended should belong to the Deity. The reader may determine from the different impressions made on his own mind, when we produce the passage we oppose, on which side his judgment inclines. John, one of the disciples of our Saviour, is designated a poor and unlearned man, as a fisherman, and who will not therefore be supposed to have recourse to the meretricious ornaments of fancy to emblazon his narrative. His purpose, above all things, was not to write a poem commemorative of the capture of a town, or the death of a hero, but honestly to tell what he saw and what he suffered. It was not his object to swell a fact beyond its proper dimensions by the aid of fancy, but to find words of sufficient dignity to express the grandeur of the fact. Let us now see how this poor fisherman dares to contend with Homer himself for the palm of sublimity. “And I saw a great white throne, and him who sat thereon, and earth and heaven fled away from his presence, and no place was found for them." All comment on this noble passage is needless; the imagination totters under a load too ponderous to sustain, and acknowledges the presence of a Deity by such unavailing efforts. We wish to notice one further peculiarity, one marked, discriminating feature between the two portraits of the De ity, presented to us in the pages of Homer and of divine inspiration, viz. in the former the august personage, when speaking,

[merged small][ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

describes not only the task to be done, but the means by which he prepares to attempt its execution. Jove, with all his power and prerogative, is made to speak with all the precision of a mechanic. Homer seems fearful of making his Deity act without means, although he allows him omnipotence; thus it is an omnipotence in words only. The Christian Deity, on the other hand, conscious of the plenitude of his power, scorns such tame auxiliaries. The Jupiter of Homer often trifles with his omnipotence, and dissipates his splendor; in confirmation of which remark, we will cite the following passage, where he imparts consolation to Achilles's horses:

"Unhappy coursers, of immortal strain,

Exempt from pain, and deathless now in vain,
Did we your race on mortal man bestow,
Only, alas! to share in mortal wo?

For ah! what is there of inferior birth,

That breathes or creeps upon the dust of earth;
What wretched creature of what wretched kind,
Than man more weak, calamitous or blind?
A miserable race! but cease to mourn:
For not by you shall Priam's son be borne
High on the splendid car: one glorious prize
He rashly boasts, the rest our will denies;
Ourself will swiftness to your nerves impart,
Ourself with rising spirits fill your heart.
Automedon your rapid flight shall bear
Safe to the navy through the storm of war.

For yet 'tis giv'n to Troy to ravage o'er

The field, and spread her slaughter to the shore;

The Sun shall see her conquer, till his fall

With sacred darkness shades the face of all.”

The horses, it appears by the sequel, derived much consolation from this learned and elaborate comment on the destiny of mortals. The poet, however, takes care to inform us that the consolation did not flow from the discourse itself, moral as it undoubtedly was, but from the special intervention of Jupiter.

"He said: and breathing on the immortal horse

Excessive spirit, urg'd them to the course.

From their high manes they shake the dust, and bear
The kindling chariot through the parted war."

« PreviousContinue »