Longinus, Sublime

Richard L. W. Clarke LITS2306 Notes 06B

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‘LONGINU ‘LONGINUS,’ S,’ ON THE THE SUBLIME SUBLIME (1st Centur Century y CE?) CE?) ‘Longinus.’ “On the Subli me.” Trans. W. Rhys Roberts. Critical Theory Sin ce Plato. Ed. Hazard Adams. New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1971. 76-98. Chapter I (Defining the Sublime 1) ‘Longinus’ (the name is i s in invert ed commas because the author of t his at times ti mes longwinded treatise is unknown) is writing to a friend, Postumius Terentianus, concerning the “treatise of Caecilius Caecili us on the sublime” subl ime” (76) which “fell below the dignity of the t he whole subject” (76), “failed to grasp the essential points” (76) and “conveyed to its readers but little littl e of that practical practical help which it should be a writer’s principal aim to give” (76). Any “systematic treatise” treati se” (76) should, ‘Longinus’ ‘Longinu s’ argues, provide a “statement of t he subject” (76) and an “indication of the methods by which we may attain our end” (76), that is, a “consideration of the means by which we [as writers] can succe ed in raising our capacities to a certain pitch of elevation” (76). Caecilius has, however, failed to deliver on both these accounts. ‘Longinus’ defines “sublimity” “su blimity” (76) (or the ‘sublime’) ‘sublime ’) in both oratory and poetry as a “certain distinction disti nction and excellence excel lence in expression” (76) or “elevated langu age” (76). He argues that “it is from no other source than this that the greatest poets and writers have derived their eminence and gained an immortality of renown” renown” (76). The sublime is a mark mark of distinction among orators and poets. He distinguishes, distinguishes , on the one hand, between “skill in invention, and due order and arrangement of matter” (76) which are the “hard-won result . . . of the whole texture of the composition” (76) – the product, in other words, of hard work and careful craftmanship, and, on the other, sublimity per se which, “flashing forth at the right moment scatters everything before it like a thunderbolt” (76) and thereby “displays the power of the orator in its plenitude” (76). In other words, the sublime seems to occur at and derive from the power of particular points (specific words or combinations of words) in the text in question, rather than derive cumulatively from the overall organisation of the work as a whole, the choice of topic, the development of the argument (proof) offered in support, and so on. As we shall shall see, though ‘Longinus’ stresses that sublime discourses necessarily originate in a powerful mind, the mighty thoughts of which have sublime effect on the listener, the sublime is linked primarily to the orator’s / poet’s emotions, his /her style (not least, the use of figurative language), and his / her arrangement of the th e composition. ‘Longinus’ also argues here t hat the sublime subli me is measured by its impact on the audience. He stresses that this effect is one of “not persuasion but transport” (76). For rhetoricians, persuasion, a phenomenon of a mainly intellectual sort sort in the course of which one assents rationally to the propositions put forth (though, as Aristotle tells us, this is facilitated by an attempt to appeal to the audience’s emotions), is the effect aimed at in rhetoric. By ‘transport,’ however, however, he seems to suggest that the audience is carried carried away mainly on an emotional level, level, enchanted even, by discourses that contain this magical ingredient. ‘Longinus’ argues that “imposing speech, with with the spell it throws over us, prevails over that which aims at persuasion” (76) and mere “gratification” (76) (he seems to take aim in the latter regard at Plato and, later, Horace who both argue that poetry ought to be ‘utile ‘utile et dulce’ [morally useful and pleasing]). This is because our “persuasions we can usually cont rol, but the influences of the sublime subli me bring power and irresistible might to bear, and reign supreme over the hearer” (76). Chapter II (Explaining the Sublime 1: Natural vs Cultural Causes)


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Here, ‘Longinus’ begins by wondering whether “there is such a thing as an art of the sublime or lofty” (76). His first point in this regard is that the sublime is the product in part of nature, in part of nurture. Some are of the view that a “lofty tone” (76) is “innate, and does not come by teaching; nature is the only art that can compass it” (76). ‘Longinus’ argues, however, that while nature as a rule is free and independent of matters of passion and elevation, yet is she wont not to act at random and utterly without system. Further, nature is the original and vital underlying principle in all cases, but system can define limits and fitting seasons, and can also contribute the safest rules for use and practice. Moreover, the expression of the sublime is more exposed to danger when it goes its own way without the guidance of knowledge. (76) Indeed, he argues, the “very fact that there are some elements of expression which are in the hands of nature alone, can be learnt from no other source than art” (77). In other words, nature must be supplemented by nurture. ‘Longinus’ contrasts with the ‘truly sublime’ what he calls the “pseudo-tragic” (77) and “frigidity” (77). Chapter III (Defining the Sublime 2: Sublimity’s Antitheses 1: Tumidity, Puerility, Inappropriate Passion) Here, ‘Longinus’ gives examples of “tasteless tumidity” (77), “puerility” (77) – a “defect” (77) which is the “direct antithesis of elevation, for it is utterly low and mean and in real truth the most ignoble vice of style” (77) – and “unseasonable and empty passion, where no passion is required, or immoderate, where moderation is needed” (77), that is, “displays of emotion . . . not caused by the nature of the subject, but are purely personal and wearisome” (77). Chapter IV (Defining the Sublime 3: Sublimity’s Antitheses 2: Frigidity) Here, ‘Longinus’ discusses “frigidity” (77), another quality opposed to that of ‘sublimity.’ Chapter V (Defining the Sublime 4: Sublimity’s Antitheses 3: Faddishness) ‘Longinus claims here that all “ugly and parasitical growths ari se in literature from a single cause, that pursuit of novelty in the expression of ideas which may be regarded as the fashionable craze of the day” (78). He warns that “while beauties of expression and touches of sublimity, and charming elegances withal, are favourable to effective composition” (78), they are also the “elements and foundation, not only of success, but also of the contrary” (78). Later, ‘Longinus’ also distinguishes between sublimity, on the one hand, and mere accuracy, on the other, in chapters XXXIII, XXXIV and XXXV, contending that the former is what separates the Homers, the Demosthenes and the Platos from the Hyperides and the Lysias. Chapter VI (Defining the Sublime 5) ‘Longinus’ states his intenti on here to “gain . . . clear knowledge and appreciation of the true sublime” (78) and claims that “judgment of style is the last and crowning fruit of long experience” (78).


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Chapter VII (Defining the Sublime 6: Proof in Universal and Eternal Acclaim) Here, ‘Longinus’ compares the ‘true sublime’ with false pretendants to the throne, fearing “whether some supposed examples have not simply the appearance of elevation with many idle accretions” (78). Our soul is instinctively “uplifted by the true sublime; it takes proud flight, and is filled with joy and vaunting, as though it had itself produced what it has heard” (78). The true sublime has a beneficial spiritual impact upon the audience: its “effect is . . . to dispose the soul to high thoughts” (78) and to “leave in the mind more food for reflection than the words seem to convey” (79). This is linked, Longinus argues, to our sense of the majestic and the superlative in the world. ‘Longinus’ also argues that “true sublimity” (79) is timeless and universal in appeal and, as such, “bears a repeated examination” (79). Examples of the true sublime please all and at all times. For when men of different pursuits, lives, ambitions, ages, languages, hold identical views on one and the same subject, then that verdict which results . . . from a concert of discordant elements makes our faith in the object of admiration strong and unassailable. (79) In other words, ‘Longinus’ claims, consensus determines what is sublime in oratory and poetry: if all men at all times and in all places can agree on the sublimity of a work, then it can be assumed that such qualities inhere in that work. It is a quality objectively present in some works, the proof of which is that people from different places and times acknowledge this to be the case. Chapter VIII (Explaining the Sublime 2: the Five Causes: Logos, Pathos, Style and Arrangement) Here, ‘Longinus’ identifies the “five principal sources of elevated language” (79), the “common foundation” (79) of all five being the “gift of discourse” (79), that is, a love for and an ability to express oneself. The first two “two components of the sublime are for the most part innate” (79) in that they are something with which the orator / poet is born (i.e. they are a product of nature). The “first and most important” (79) source of the sublime is what ‘Longinus’ describes as the poet’s “power of forming great conceptions” (79). Sublimity is, he writes, the “echo of a great soul” (79) as a result of which a “bare idea, by itself and without a spoken word, sometimes excites admiration just because of the greatness of soul implied” (79). ‘Longinus’ would seem to have in mind the orator’s / poet’s intellectual capacity or reason (logos) and, thus, his ability to put together a reasonable argument of some kind. This falls under the rubric of what rhetoricians term ‘invention’ whereby the appropriate topics are foun d and proved by means of abbreviated forms of deduction (enthymemes) and induction (examples). The second source is the orator’s / poet’s “vehement and inspired passion” (79), that is, a great emotional capacity ( pathos) which he is able to transfer to his audience.’ ‘Longinus’ is at pains to argue that “sublimity and passion” (79) are not a “unity” (79) because “some passions are found which are far removed from sublimity and are of a low order, such as pity, grief and fear” (79). However, it would be wrong, he argues, to believe that “passion never contributes at all to sublimity” (79): “there is no tone so lofty as that of genuine passion, in its right place, when it bursts out in a mad enthusiasm and as it were fills the speaker’s words with frenzy” (79). Though ‘Longinus’ does not mention it here, he does discuss the importance of the orator’s / poet’s ethos in chapter XLIV. Moral character might very well function as one more source of the sublime (for a total of six) but ‘Longinus’ does not explicitly draw the


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connection between sublime discourse and sound character. The other three sources of the sublime are at least “partly the product of art” (79) in that they are learned by the poet in the course of his general education and, in particular, through his exposure to prior examples of sublime writing offered by great precursors (i.e. they are a function of nurture). The first two of these fall under the rubric of what rhetoricians term ‘style.’ The third source of the sublime consists in the “due formation of figures” (79) of which there are “two sorts” (79): “first those of thought and secondly those of expression” (79). In other words, ‘Longinus’ distinguishes (like Quintilian) between ‘figures of thought’ (he later discusses under this rubric amplification [chapters XI and XII], emulation [chapters XIII and XIV], and vivid visualisation [chapter XV]) and ‘figures of speech’ (including questions and interrogations [chapter XVIII], the absence of connecting links [chapters XIX and XXI], asyndeton, anaphora and diatyposis [chapter XX], hyperbata [chapter XXII], polyptota [chapter XXIII], transforming the plural into the singular, and vice versa [chapter XXIV], transforming the past into the present [chapter XXV], dialogue [chapter XXVI], identification with a character [chapter XXVII], and periphrasis [chapters XXVIII and XXIX]). ‘Longinus’ seems to have in mind, with regard to ‘figures of speech,’ the learned use of various rhetorical devices. The fourth source of the sublime is the use of “noble diction” (79) which “comprises choice of words, and use of metaphors, and elaboration of language” (79). ‘Longinus’ seems to have in mind here what Quintilian terms ‘tropes’ (metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, and the like), that is, all the devices by means of which deviation from the ordinary meaning of a word occurs and for artistic effects. Apart from a brief allusion to metaphors and similes in chapter XXXVII (there may have been more but part of the manuscript is missing) and a discussion of hyperbole in chapter XXXVIII, ‘Longinus’ neither takes the time to list the various tropes nor define them (perhaps because Quintilian and the writers of various rhetorical manuals had done so elsewhere). He does, however, discuss the impact of striking words on the listener in chapter XXX, the importance of appropriateness in chapter XXXI, the amount of figurative language which should be employed in Chapter XXXII, the importance of avoiding too much concision of expression (chapter XLII) and triviality of expression (chapter XLIII). The fifth source of the sublime is the use of “dignified and elevated composition” (79) which is, he asserts, the “fitting conclusion of all that have preceded it” (79). This falls under the rubric of what rhetoricians term ‘arrangement’ in general and, in the case of poetry, metre. In chapter XXXIX, ‘Longinus’ discusses the effect which proper arrangement has on the listener, the contribution of organic unity in chapter XL, and the dangers of too much rhythm in chapter XLI. ‘Longinus’ does not touch on either Memory or Delivery, the two remaining parts of Chapter IX (The Orator’s / Poet’s Logos or ‘Elevation of Mind’) Here, ‘Longinus’ turns his attention to the first source of the sublime, that is, what he calls here “elevation of mind” (79). This, he argues, “holds the foremost rank among them all” (79). Although this has more to do with an “endowment than with an acquirement” (79), he urges us to “nurture our souls . . . to thoughts sublime” (79) and to “make them always pregnant . . . with noble inspiration” (79). To be “truly eloquent” (79), one must be free of “low and ignoble thought s” (79), as a result of which it is impossible that “men of mean and servile ideas . . . should produce anything that is admirable and worthy of immortality. Great accents we expect to fall from the lips of those whose thoughts are deep and grave” (79).


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Chapter X (The Orator’s / Poet’s Pathos or ‘Vehement Passions’) Here, ‘Longinus’ follows up his discussion of the orator’s / poet’s ‘elevated mind’ with a consideration of the role played by ‘figures of thought’ in producing a sublime effect. He begins by considering “whether we can point to anything that contributes to sublimity of style” (81). He contends that there “inheres in all things by nature certain constituents which are part and parcel of their substance” (81). It follows, he asserts, that “one source of the sublime” (81) is to be found in the “systematic selection of the most important elements, and the power of forming, by their mutual combination, what may be called one body” (81). The “former process” (81) (i.e. the selection of the elements) “attracts the hearer by the choice of ideas” (81) while the latter (i.e. their combination) does so by the “aggregation of those chosen” (81). The point which ‘Longinus’ seems to be making here is that in the same way that the orator / poet carefully chooses and combines his / her ideas, so too must this be done with his / her emotions. The lesbian poet Sappho, for example, “chooses the emotions that attend delirious passion” (81) and “demonstrate[s] her excellence” (81) in the “skill with which she selects and binds together the most vehement of passions” (81). Chapter XI (Figures of Thought 1: Sublimity versus Amplification 1) Here, ‘Longinus’ makes a detour (what he later admits is a “digression” [83]), in order to compare ‘sublimity’ with an “allied excellence to those already set forth” (82), “amplification” (82), which is the “figure employed when the narrative or the course of a forensic argument admits, from section to section, of many starting points and many pauses, and elevated expressions follow, one after the other, in an unbroken succession and an ascending order” (82). This is “effected” (82) either by the “rhetorical treatment of commonplaces” (82), or “intensification (whether events or arguments are to be strongly presented)” (82), or the “orderly arrangement of facts or passions” (82). There are “innumerable kinds of amplification” (82) but “none of these methods by itself, apart from sublimity, forms a complete whole” (82). If “you take away the sublimity, you will as it were remove the soul from the body” (82-83); the “vigour” (83) of amplification thereby “loses its intensity and its substance when not resting on th e firm basis of the sublime” (83). ‘Longinus’ is at pains to stress that the “sublime differs from amplification” (83) but may work in tandem with it to produce effective oratory and literature. Chapter XII (Figures of Thought 2: Sublimity versus Amplification 2) ‘Longinus’ continues here to distin guish between ‘sublimity’ and ‘amplification.’ The latter, according to “writers on rhetoric” (83) is “discourse which invests the subject with grandeur” (83). Where the sublime “consists in elevation” (83), amplification “embraces a multitude of details” (83). As a result, where sublimity is “often comprised in a single thought” (83), where amplification is “universally associated with a certain magnitude and abundance” (83). In short, amplification is an “aggregation of all the constituent parts and topics of a subject, lending strength to the argument by dwelling upon it” (83), and is differentiated from “proof” (83) which merely “demonstrates the matter under investigation” (83). Chapter XIII (Figures of Thought 3: Emulation 1) Here, ‘Longinus’ addresses “another way . . . leads to sublime” (83): the “imitation and


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emulation of previous great poets and writers” (83). Chapter XIV (Figures of Thought 4: Emulation 2) Here, ‘Longinus’ continues in the same vein as Chapter XIII by advising that we, “when elaborating anything which requires lofty expression and elevated conception, should shape some idea in our minds as to how perchance Homer would have said this very thing, or how it would have been raised to the sublime by Plato or Demosthenes or by the historian Thucydides” (84). Such “personages presenting themselves to us and inflaming our ardour and as it were illumining our path, will carry our minds in a mysterious way to high standards of sublimity” (84). We must supplement this by asking ourselves: “what sort of hearing would Homer . . . or Demosthenes have given to this or that when said by me” (84). Such a “tribunal and theatre for our own utterances” (84) would be a “severe” (84) “ordeal” (84) if we “imagine that we are undergoing a scrutiny of our writings before these great heroes, acting as judges and witnesses” (84). Even “greater incentive” (84) is added if you ask “in what spirit will each succeeding age listen to me who have written thus” (84). If one “shrinks from the very thought of uttering aught that may transcend the term of his own life and time, the conceptions of his mind must necessarily be incomplete, blind, and . . . untimely born, since they are by no means brought to the perfection needed to ensure a futurity of fame” (84). Chapter XV (Figures of Thought 5: Vivid Visualisation) Here, ‘Longinus’ contends that “images . . . contribute greatly to dignity, elevation, and power as a pleader” (84). Some define them in general as “mental representations” (84): the “name of image or imagination is applied to every idea of the mind, in whatever form it presents itself, which gives birth to speech” (84). However, the word image is “predominantly used in cases where, carried away by enthu siasm and passion, you think you see what you describe, and you place it before the eyes of your hearers” (84). Orators and poets use images differently: “the design of the poetical image is enthrallment, of the rhetorical – vivid description” (84). Both uses, though, “seek to stir the passions and emotions” (84). Chapter XVI (Figures of Speech 1) Here, ‘Longinus’ turns his attention to “figures” (86) of speech. His stated intention is to “run over a few only of those which produce of elevation of diction” (86). (Clearly, there seems to be some sort of overlap between ‘figures of speech’ and ‘tropes.’) Chapter XVII (Figures of Speech 2: Naturalness and Subtlety) ‘Longinus’ contends that “by a sort of natural law, figures bring support to the sublime” (86) and “derive support in turn from it” (86). The key is to avoid the “cunning use of figures” (86) which is “peculiarly subject to suspicion, and produces an impression of ambush, plot, fallacy” (86). Listeners feel “resentment” (86) as if “tricked by the paltry figures of the oratorical craftsman” (86). This can develop into a feeling of “personal affront” (86) or even “rage” (86) to the point where he “steels himself utterly against persuasive words” (86). Accordingly, a “figure is at its best when the very fact that it is a figure escapes attention” (86). The “art which craftily employs them lies hid and escapes all future suspicion, when once it has been associated with beauty and the sublime” (86).


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Just as all dim lights are extinguished in the blaze of the sun, so do the artifices of rhetoric fade from view when bathed in the pervading splendour of sublimity” (86). This is because “manifestations of passion and the sublime . . . lie nearer to our minds through a sort of natural kinship and through their own radiance, and always strike our attention before the figures, whose art they thrown into the shade and as it were keep in concealment” (86). Chapter XVIII (Figures of Speech 3: Questions and Interrogations) Here, ‘Longinus’ discusses “questions and interrogations” (87): “just as those who are interrogated by others experience a sudden excitement and answer the inquiry incisively and with the utmost candour, so the figure of question and answer leads the hearer to suppose that each deliberate thought is struck out and uttered on the spur of the moment, and thus beguiles his reason” (87). Chapter XIX (Figures of Speech 4: the Absence of Connecting Links) Here, ‘Longinus’ concerns himself with how the “words issue forth without connecting links and are poured out as it were, almost outstripping the speaker himself” (87). The “lines detached from one another, but nonetheless hurried along, produce the impression of an agitation which interposes obstacles and at the same time adds impetuosity” (87) via in many cases the “omission of conjunctions” (87). Chapter XX (Figures of Speech 5: Asyndeton, Anaphora, Diatyposis) Here, ‘Longinus’ focuses on the “powerful effect” (87) which “usually attends the union of figures for a common object, when two or three mingle together as it were in partnership and contribute a fund of strength, persuasiveness and beauty” (87). He cites, for example, the use of “asyndeton, interwoven with instances of anaphora and diatyposis” (87). Chapter XXI (Figures of Speech 6: Connecting Particles) Here, ‘Longinus’ considers “connecting particles” (87): just as the “binding of the limbs of runners deprives them of their power of rapid motion, so also passion, when shackled by connecting links and other appendages, chafes at the restriction, for it loses the freedom of its advance” (87). Chapter XXII (Figures of Speech 7: Hyperbata) Here, ‘Longinus’ considers “[h]yperbata, or inversions” (88) which are “departures in the order of expressions or ideas from the natural sequence” (88) which as such “bear . . . the very stamp and impress of vehement emotion” (88): just as “those who are really moved by anger, or fear, or indignation, or jealousy, or any emotion . . . at times turn aside, and when they have taken one thing as their subject often leap to another, foisting in the midst some irrelevant matter, and then again wheel round to their original theme, and driven by their vehemence, as by a veering wind, now this way not that with rapid changes, transform their expressions, their thoughts, the order suggested by a natural sequence, into numberless variations of every kind; so also among the best writers it is by means of hyperbaton that imitation approaches the effect of nature” (88).


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Chapter XXIII (Figures of Speech 8: Polyptota) Here, ‘Longinus’ mentions “polyptota – acumulations, and variations, and climaxes” (88) such as “changes of cases, tenses, persons, numbers, genders” (88), which are “excellent weapons of public oratory . . . and contribute to elegance and to every form of sublimity and passion” (88). Chapter XXIV (Figures of Speech 9: Transforming the Plural into the Singular, and Vice Versa) Here, ‘Longinus’ examines “particulars which are combined from the plural into the singular” (88) as a way of making discourses “most elevated in appearance” (89). “Where the words are singular, to make them plural is the mark of unlooked-for passion; and where they are plural, the rounding of a number of things into a fine-sounding singular is surprising” (89). Chapter XXV (Figures of Speech 10: Transforming the Past into the Present) Here, ‘Longinus’ considers the introduction of “things which are past as present and now taking place” (89) as a means of making “your story no longer a narration but an actuality” (89). Chapter XXVI (Figures of Speech 11: Dialogue) Here, ‘Longinus’ considers the “interchange of persons” (89) (i.e. dialogue) in order to produce a “vivid impression” (89) and to make the “hearer feel that he is moving in the midst of perils” (89). Chapter XXVII (Figures of Speech 12: Identification with a Character) ‘Longinus’ expands upon his discussion in the previous chapter by discussing how a “writer, when relating something about a person, suddenly breaks off and converts h imself into that selfsame person” (89). This “species of figure” (89) is a “kind of outburst of passion” (89). Chapter XXVIII (Figures of Speech 13: Periphrasis I) Here, ‘Longinus’ considers how “periphrasis contributes to the sublime” (90): just as in music the “so-called accompaniments bring out the charm of the melody, so also periphrasis often harmonises with the normal expression and adds greatly to its beauty” (90). Chapter XXIX (Figures of Speech 14: Periphrasis II) ‘Longinus’ warns that periph rasis, discussed in the previous chapter, is a “hazardous business . . . unless it be handled with discrimination; otherwise it speedily falls flat, with its odor of empty talk and its swelling amplitude” (90). Chapter XXX (Diction 1)


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Here, arguing that “in discourse, thought and diction are for the most part developed one through the other” (91), ‘Longinus’ wants to “consider any branches of the subject of diction which have so far been neglected” (91). He argues that the “choice of proper and striking words wonderfully attracts and enthralls the hearer” (91): this is the “leading ambition of all orators and writers” (91) since it is the “direct agency which ensures the presence in writings . . . of the perfection of grandeur, beauty, mellowness, dignity, force, power, and any other high qualities there may be, and breathes into dead things a kind of living voice” (91). He argues that “beautiful words are in very truth the peculiar light of thought” (91). He cautions, however, that “stately language is not to be used everywhere, since to invest petty affairs with great and high-sounding names” (91) would be inappropriate. Chapter XXXI (Diction 2: Appropriateness) Here, ‘Longinus’ considers examples of appropriate and inappropriate diction. Chapter XXXII (Diction 3: the Amount of Figurative Language to be Employed) Here, ‘Longinus’ turns his attention to the “number of metaphors to be employed” (91). He says there are no limits and cites Demosthenes in this respect for whom the “proper time for using metaphors is when the passions roll like a torrent and sweep a multitude of them down their resistless flood” (91). He stresses that “figurative language possesses great natural power” (92), that “metaphors contribute to the sublime” (92), and that it is “impassioned and descriptive passages which rejoice in them to the greatest extent” (92). However, he warns that the “use of tropes, like all other beauties of expression, is apt to lead to excess” (92). Chapter XXXIII (Defining the Sublime 7: Mere Accuracy vs. Divine Sublimity 1) ‘Longinus’ considers here “wheth er we ought to give the preference, in poems and prose writings, to grandeur with some attendant faults, or to success which is moderate but altogether sound and free from error” (92). He believes that “lofty genius is far removed from flawlessness” (92): “low and average natures remain as a rule free from failing and in greater safety because they never run a risk or seek to scale the heights” (92). Moreover, the “worse side of human character is always the more easily recognised, and that the memory of errors remains indelible, while that of excellences quickly dies away” (92). Homer and other greats are far from perfect but they are not guilty of “wilful errors” (92) but of “oversights of a random and casual kind, due to neglect and introduced with all the heedlessness of genius” (92). For this reason, he argues that “excellences higher in quality, even if not sustained throughout, should always on comparison be voted the first place, because of the sheer elevation of spirit if for no other reason” (92). Chapter XXXIV (Defining the Sublime 8: Mere Accuracy vs. Divine Sublimity 2: Hyperides versus Demosthenes) Here, ‘Longinus’ compares the respective works of Hyperides and Demosthenes. The former are the “staid utterances of a sober-hearted man” (93) that “leave the hearer unmoved, no one feeling terror when he reads Hyperides” (93). By contrast, Demosthenes “draws – as from a store – excellen ces allied to the highest sublimity and perfected to the


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utmost, the tone of lofty speech, living passions, copiousness, readiness, speed (where it is legitimate) and that power and vehemence . . . which forbid reproach” (93). Equipped with such “heaven-sent” and “mighty gifts” (93)and “noble qualities” (93), Demosthenes “routs all comers” (93) and “overpowers with t hunder and with lightning the orators of every age” (93): one could “sooner face with unflinching eyes a descending thunderbolt than meet with steady gaze and his bursts of passion in their swift succession” (93). Chapter XXXV (Defining the Sublime 9: Mere Accuracy vs. Divine Sublimity 3: Lysias vs. Plato) Here, ‘Longinus’ compares the respective talents of Plato and Lysias, arguing that such “superhuman writers” (93) aimed at “everything that was highest in composition” (93) rather than an “all-pervading accuracy” (93). ‘Longinus’ argues that such writers are aware that “Nature has appointed men to be no base or ignoble animals” (93) but to be “spectators of the mighty whole” (93) and, to this end, “implants in our souls the unconquerable love of whatever is elevated and more divine than we” (93). This is why “not even the entire universe suffices for the thought and contemplation within reach of the human mind” (93) because “our imaginations often pass beyond the bounds of space” (93). If we “survey life on every side” (93), we note “how much more it everywhere abounds in what is striking, and great, and beautiful” (93) and quickly “discern the purpose of our birth” (93). This is why, out of a sort of “natural impulse, we admire not the small streams . . . but the Nile, the Danube or the Rhine, and still more the ocean” (93), why we do not regard “with greater awe” (93) a “tiny flame of our own kindling” (93) than the “celestial fires” (93), even though stars are “often shrouded in darkness” (93-94), or the “craters of Etna, whose eruptions throw up stones from its depths and great masses of rock, and at times pour forth rivers of that pure and unmixed subterranean fire” (94). For, in “all such matters” (94), “what is useful or necessary men regard as commonplace, while they reserve their admiration for that which is astounding” (94). Chapter XXXVI (Defining the Sublime 10: Mere Accuracy vs. Divine Sublimity 4) Here, ‘Longinus’ turns his focus back to the “manifestations of the sublime in literature” (94) where “grandeur is never . . . found apart from utility and advantage” (94). He argues that though “writers of this magnitude” (94) are “far removed from faultlessness” (94), they “nonetheless all rise above what is mortal” (94): “all other qualities prove their possessors to be men, but sublimity raises them near the majesty of God;. . . while immunity from errors relieves from censure, it is greatness that excites admiration as well” (94). ‘Longinus’ stresses that “each of these supreme authors often redeems all his mistakes by a single sublime and happy touch” (94). The “blunders of Homer, Demosthenes, Plato and all the rest of the greatest writers . . . would be found to be a very small part” (94), an “infinitesimal fraction” (94), of the “triumphs which those heroes achieve on every hand” (94). This is why the “judgment of all posterity” (94) has “offered those meeds of victory which up to this day it guards intact and seems likely still to preserve” (94). Where “in art the utmost exactitude is admired” (94), it is “grandeur” (94) which is respected in “works of nature” (94). Given that it is “ by nature that man is a being gifted with speech” (94), “in discourse we demand . . . that which transcends the human” (94), whereas in “statues likeness to man is the quality required” (94). Nevertheless, since “freedom from failings is for the most part the successful result of art, and excellence (though it may be unevenly sustained) the result of sublimity” (94), the “employment of art is in every way a fitting aid to nature” (94) for the simple reason that


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it is the “conjunction of the two which tends to ensure perfection” (94). Chapter XXXVII (Diction 4: Metaphors, Similes and Other Forms of Comparison) Here, ‘Longinus’ only briefly links metaphors to similes. [What else he writes in this chapter is unknown because this part of the manuscript is missing]. Chapter XXXVIII (Diction 5: Hyperbole) Here, ‘Longinus’ mentions several examples of “hyperbole” (94), though once more part of the manuscript is missing. He concludes by stating that hyperboles are “employed in describing things small as well as great, since exaggeration is the common element in both cases” (95), “ridicule” (95) being an “amplification of the paltriness of things” (95). Chapter XXXIX (Composition 1: Arrangement of Words in a Certain Order) Here, ‘Longinus’ returns to the question of word order and explains what exactly he meant earlier by the phrase ‘dignified and elevated composition.’ This he equates with the “arrangement of the words in a certain order” (95), a topic which he says he tackled in two previous treatises. He argues 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” (95). ‘Longinus’ argues that “composition” (95) is a “harmony of . . . language . . . implanted by nature in man” and that it “appeals not to the hearing only but to the soul itself” (95) by calling forth “manifold shapes of words, thoughts, deeds, beauty, melody” (95), each of which is “born at our birth and growing with our growth” (95). Through the “blending and variation of its own tones” (95), composition “seeks to introduce into the minds of those who are present the emotion which affects the speaker” (95) and “brings the audience to share in it” (95). By the “building of phrase upon phrase” (95), composition “raises a sublime and harmonious structure” (95). The harmony created in this way “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” (95). All this is “generally admitted” (95) because “experience is proof sufficient” (95). Chapter XL (Composition 2: Organic Unity) ‘Longinus’ contends here t hat one of the “chief causes of the sublime in speech” (95),: 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 . . . but when formed into a body by association and when further encircled in a chain of harmony they become sonorous by their very rotundity. (95-96) Many writers “who possess no natural sublimity” (96) and who make use of “for the most part common and poplar 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” (96).


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Chapter XLI (Composition 3: Overrhythmical Writing) Here, ‘Longinus’ argues that one factor which militates against sublimity is “broken and agitated movement of language” (96), causing some forms of poetry to “fall altogether to the level of dance music” (96). What ‘Longinus’ calls “overrhythmical writing” (96) is felt to be “affected and finical and wholly lacking in passion owing to the monotony of its superficial polish” (96). Similarly, “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” (96). Chapter XLII (Diction 6: Concision of Expression) Another factor which “tends to lower the sublime” (96) is “excessive concision of expression” (96). This is because “grandeur is marred when the thought is brought into too narrow a compass” (96). By ‘concision,’ ‘Longinus’ means not “proper compression” (96) but rather “what is absolutely petty and cut into segments” (96): where “concision curtails the sense” (96), “brevity goes straight to the mark” (96). BY the opposite token, “prolixities are frigid” (96) because the result is “unreasonable length” (96). Chapter XLIII (Diction 7: Triviality of Expression) Here, ‘Longinus’ cites “triviality of expression” (96) (the use of “words below the dignity of the subject” [96]), as another factor “apt to disfigure sublimity” (96). ‘Longinus’ argues that 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. (97) ‘Longinus’ concludes that “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” (97). Chapter XLIV (The Orator’s / Poet’s Ethos or Morality) Here, ‘Longinus’ concludes his treatise by turning to the question of ethics: he repeats the recent “question” (97) of a “certain philosopher” (97) who wonders “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” (97) but yet “there longer arise really lofty and transcendent natures unless quite exceptionally” (97). In short, a “great and worldwide dearth of high utterance attends our age” (97). Is the “explanation” (97), this philosopher wonders, that “democracy is the kind nursing-mother of genius” (97), for which reason “literary power may be said to share its rise and fall with . . . democracy alone” (97). This is because “freedom . . . has the power to feed t he imaginations of the lofty-minded and to inspire hope” (97). Wherever it prevails, “there spreads abroad the eagerness of mutual rivalry and the emulous pursuit of the foremost place” (97). Through the competitions encouraged in such milieus, the “mental excellences of the orator are continually exercised and sharpened, and as it were rubbed bright, and shine forth . . . with all the freedom which inspires the doings of the state” (97). However, we seem to have learned instead


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the “lessons of a righteous servitude, being all but enswathed in its customs and observances” (97) and “never tasting the fairest and most productive source of eloquence” (97), to wit, “freedom” (97). We are at best “sublime flatters” (97). This is why “no slave ever becomes an orator” (97): the slave manifests only “signs of fettered liberty of speech, of the dungeon as it were, of a man habituated to buffetings” (97). All “servitude” (98) is the “cage of the soul and a public prison-house” (98). ‘Longinus’ replies that it is “easy, . . . and characteristic of hu man nature, to find fault with one’s own age” (98). He argues that it is less the “world’s peace that ruins great natures” (98) than the “war illimitable which holds our desires in its grasp” (98) and “those passions which occupy as with troops our present age and utterly harry and plunder it” (98) and “drown[s] us body and soul in the depths” (98). These include the “love of money” (98) which “makes men petty” (98) and the “love of pleasure” (98) which “makes them most ignoble” (98). The former makes us allow “into our souls . . . the evils which are inseparable from it” (98): “extravagance” (98) and its offspring “ostentation and vanity, and luxury” (98). These “children of wealth” (98), if “permitted to come to maturity” (98), “beget in the soul inexorable masters – insolence, and lawlessness, and shamelessness” (98). In this way, the “ruin of such lives will gradually reach its complete consummation and sublimities of soul fade and wither away and become contemptible” (98) when men are “lost in admiration of their own mortal parts and omit to exalt that which is immortal” (98). No one who has “accepted a bribe for a judicial decision” (98) can perforce be an “unbiased and upright judge of what is just and honourable” (98). The same is true of an “entire life . . . ordered by bribes, and huntings after the death of others, and the laying of ambushes for legacies” (98), We are the “slaves of pleasure” (98) and the “gain from any and every source we purchase” (98) is “at the price of life itself” (98). We are “all influenced by the passion for gain” (98) for which reason in an “age . . . ravaged by plagues so sore” (98), there is unlikely to be left an “unbiased and incorruptible judge of works” (98). This is why it is “perhaps better for men like ourselves to be ruled rather 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” (98). In short, that “half-heartedness in which the life of all of us with few exceptions is passed” (98) is one of the “banes of the natures which our age produces” (98): “we do not labour or exert ourselves except for the sake of praise and pleasure” (98) rather than those “solid benefits which are a worthy object of our own efforts and the respect of others” (98). ‘Longinus’ concludes the treatise by shifting topic from “these riddles unresolved” (98) concerning the orator’s / poet’s morality ( ethos) back to the “subject of the passions [ pathos], about which I previously undertook to write in a separate treatise” (98) and which forms a “material part of discourse generally and of the sublime itself” (98). At this point the manuscript breaks off. . . .

Longinus, Sublime

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