ſae;
șiķğģģ
¿

Ullſ!!!!
jºin of Miº.
NIVERSITYOFMichi,
|
hº
THIS BOOK
FORMS PART OF THE
ORICINAL LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHICAN
BOUGHT IN EUROPE
1838 TO 1839
BY
ASA CRAY









3. . . . . . 7–? /
C – −,
ESSAYS
# #
º f º,
ON THE #
łºś.*****
**,
NATURE AND PRINCIPLES
OF
TASTE.
BY
ARCHIBALD ALISON, LL.B.
F. R. S. LONDON AND EDINBURGH,
PREBENDARY OF SARUM,
&c. &c. &c.
THE SIXTH EDITION,
voLUME 1. )
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY THE HEIRS OF D. willison, -
for ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY, EDINBURGH :
and Longman, Huast, Rees, onME, Baown & GREEN,
LoNDoN. f x -
cº---

1825.
Printed by J. Hutchison,
for the Heirs of D. Willison.
TO
DUGALD STEWART, ESQ.
IN WHOSE FRIENDSHIP
THE AUTHOR HAS FOUND THE HONOUR
AND THE HAPPINESS OF HIS LIFE ;
THESE ESSAYS
ARE
MOST RESPECTFULLY
AND AFFECTIONATELY
INSCRIBED,
EDINBURGH,
November 22, 1810.
ADVERTISEMENT
TO THE SE COND EDITION.
-*-*ms
THE first Edition of this Work was pub-
lished in the year 1790. After so long an
interval, I should not have presumed again
to present it to the public, if I had not been
informed by my booksellers, that some
wish had lately been expressed for a Se-
cond Edition. In preparing it for the
press, I have thought it my duty to add a
few observations on the Origin of the Beau-
ty and Sublimity of the Human Counte-
nance and Form, to complete the Second
Essay.
Of the general plan which I have sketch-
ed in the Introduction, I lament to think
that so little has been accomplished; and
still more, that the progress of years, and
3'-
viii ADVERTISEMENT.
the increase of more serious duties, render
me still less able to accomplish the original
design I had formed.
Yet, if the public should express any
wish to see these Inquiries concluded, I
shall be proud to feel myself under the obli-
gation of attempting, at least, to obey it.
ARCHIBALD ALISON.
CONTENTS.
VOL. I.
INTRODUCTION łº º , sº tº
ESSAY I.
Of the Nature of the Emotions of Šublimity and
Beauty.
CHAP. I.-SECT. I. Of the Effect produced upon
the Imagination, by objects of Sub-
limity and Beauty - tº- º
SECT. II. The same Subject continued º
SECT. III. The same subject continued º
CHAP. II.-SECT. I. Analysis of this Exercise of
xi
s
23
Imagination i- # tº sº
SECT. II. The same Subject continued mº
SECT. III. The same Subject continued -
Conclusion tº sº sº gº
ESSAY II.
Of the Sublimity and Beauty of the Material World.
CHAP. I.-Introductory ſº sº sº
CHAP. II.—Of the Sublimity and Beauty of Sound
SECT. I. Of Simple Sounds º ſº sº
69
81
120
158
175
191
192

X CONTENTS.
Page
Part I. Of Miscellaneous Sounds - 192
Part II. Of the Notes of Animals - 220
Part III. Of the Tones of the Human
Voice tº tº: * … tº 235
SECT. II. Of Composed Sounds, or Music 251
CHAP. III.-Of the Sublimity and Beauty of the
Objects of Sight - ſº 289
SECT. I. Of Colours - tºº tº º 295
CHAP. IV.-Of Forms s sº ſº dº 314
SECT. I. Of the Natural Sublimity and Beauty
of Forms. ?
Part I. Of the Sublimity of Forms - 320
Part II. Of the Beauty of Forms “ - 329

INTRODUCTION.
Hºmºmºsºmºsºms
TASTE is, in general, considered as that
Faculty of the Human mind, by which we
perceive and enjoy whatever is BEAUTIFUL
or SUBLIME in the works of Nature or Art.
The perception of these qualities is at-
tended with an Emotion of Pleasure, very
distinguishable from every other pleasure
of our Nature, and which is accordingly
distinguished by the name of the EMOTION:
of TASTE. The distinction of the objects
of Taste into the Sublime and the Beauti-
ful, has produced a similar division of this
Emotion, into the EMOTION of SUBLIMI-
Ty, and the Emotion of BEAUTY.
xii INTRODUCTION.
The Qualities that produce these Emo-
tions are to be found in almost every class
of the objects of human knowledge; and
the Emotions themselves afford one of the
most extensive sources of human delight.
They occur to us, amid every variety of
ExTERNAL Scenery, and among many di-
versities of disposition and affection in the
MIND of Man. The most pleasing Arts of
human invention are altogether directed to
their pursuit: And even the necessary Arts
are exalted into dignity, by the Genius that
can unite Beauty with Use. From the ear-
liest period of Society, to its last stage of
improvement, they afford an innocent and
elegant amusement to private life, at the
same time that they increase the Splendour
of National Character; and in the progress
of Nations, as well as of Individuals, while
they attract attention from the pleasures
they bestow, they serve to exalt the human
Mind, from corporeal to intellectual pur-
suits. *
INTRODUCTION. xiii
These Qualities, however, though so im-
portant to human happiness, are not the
objects of immediate observation; and in
the attempt to investigate them, various
circumstances unite to perplex our research.
They are often obscured under the number
of qualities with which they are accidental-
ly combined : They result often from pecu-
liar combinations of the qualities of objects,
or the relation of certain parts of objects to
each other: They are still oftener, perhaps,
dependent upon the state of our own minds,
and vary in their effects with the disposi-
tions in which they happen to be observed.
In all cases, while we feel the Emotions
they excite, we are ignorant of the causes
by which they are produced; and when we
seek to discover them, we have no other
method of discovery, than that varied and
patient ExPERIMENT, by which, amid these -
complicated circumstances, we may gra-
dually ascertain the peculiar qualities which,
by the CoNSTITUTION of our NATURE, are
f
3
xiv INTRODUCTION.
permanently connected with the Emotions
we feel. -
In the employment of this mode of In-
vestigation, there are two great objects of .
attention and inquiry, which seem to in-
clude all that is either necessary, or perhaps
possible, for us to discover on the subject
of Taste. - -
These objects are,
I. To investigate the NATURE of those
QUALITIES that produce the Emotions of
TASTE: And, -
II. To investigate the NATURE of that
FACULTY, by which these Emotions are
received. -
These investigations, however, are not to
be considered only as objects of philosophi-
cal curiosity. They have an immediate re-
lation to all the Arts that are directed to
the production either of the BEAUTIFUL
or the SUBLIME; and they afford the only
means by which the principles of these va-
rious arts can be ascertained. Without a
INTRoDUCTION. XV
just and accurate conception of the Nature
of these Qualities, the ARTIST must be un-
able to determine, whether the Beauty he
creates is temporary or permanent, whether
adapted to the accidental prejudices of his
Age, or to the uniform constitution of the
human Mind; and whatever the Science of
CRITICISM can afford for the improvement
or correction of Taste, must altogether de-
pend upon the previous knowledge of the
Nature and Laws of this Faculty.
To both these Inquiries, however, there
is a preliminary investigation, which seems
absolutely necessary, and without which
every conclusion we form, must be either
imperfect or vague. In the investigation
of CAUSEs, the first and most important
step, is the accurate examination of the EF-
FECT to be explained. In the Science of
Mind, however, as well as in that of Body,
there are few effects altogether simple, or in
which accidental circumstances are not com-
bined with the proper effect. Unless, there-
WOL. I. . * .

xvi INTRODUCTION.
f
* the Constitution of our Nature, is annexed
fore, by means of repeated Experiments,
such accidental circumstances are accurate-
ly distinguished from the phenomena that
permanently characterize the effect, we are
under the necessity of including in the Cause,
the causes also of all the accidental circum-
stances with which the effect is accompa-
nied.
With the Emotions of TASTE, in almost
every instance, many other accidental Emo-
tions of Pleasure are united : the various
simple pleasures that arise from other qua-
lities of the object; the pleasure of agree-
able Sensation, in the case of Material ob-
jects; and in all, that pleasure which, by
to the Exercise of our Faculties. Unless,
therefore, we have previously acquired a
distinct and accurate conception of that
peculiar effect which is produced on our
Minds, when the Emotions of Taste are
felt, and can precisely distinguish it from
the effects that are produced by these acci-
\ º
INTRODUCTION. xvii
dental Qualities, we must necessarily in-
clude in the Causes of such Emotions, those
Qualities also, which are the causes of the
accidental pleasures with which this Emo-
tion is accompanied. The variety of Sys-
tems that Philosophers have adopted upon
this subject, and the various Emotions into
which they have resolved the Emotion of
Taste, while they afford a sufficient evidence
of the numerous accidental pleasures that
accompany these Emotions, afford also a
strong illustration of the necessity of pre-
viously ascertaining the Nature of this Ef-
fect, before we attempt so investigate its
* Cause. With regard, therefore, to both
these Inquiries, the first and most important
step is accurately to examine the Nature of
this EMOTION itself, and its distinction from .
every other Emotion of Pleasure; and our
capacity of discovering either the Nature
of the Qualities that produce the Emotions
of Taste, or the Nature of the Faculty by
which they are received, will be exactly
J
B 2
xviii INTRODUCTION.
proportioned to our accuracy in ascertaining
the Nature of the Emotion itself.
When we look back to the history of
these investigations, and to the Theories
which have been so liberally formed upon
the subject, there is one fact that must ne-
cessarily strike us, viz. That all these Theo-
ries have uniformly taken for granted the
Simplicity of this Emotion; that they have
considered it as an Emotion too plain, and
too commonly felt, to admit of any Analy-
sis; that they have as uniformly, therefore,
referred it to some one Principle or Law
of the Human Mind; and that they have
therefore concluded, that the Discovery of
that one Principle was the essential key by
which all the Pleasures of Taste were to be
resolved. -
While they have assumed this funda-
mental Principle, the various Theories of
Philosophers may, and indeed must, be in-
cluded in the two following Classes of Sup-
position. -
INTRODUCTION. xix
I. The first class is that which resolves
the Emotion of Taste directly into an ori-
ginal Law of our Nature; which supposes a
Sense, or Senses, by which the qualities of
Beauty and Sublimity are perceived and
felt, as their appropriate objects; and con-
cludes, therefore, that the genuine object
of the Arts of Taste, is to discover, and to
imitate, those Qualities in every Subject,
which the prescription of Nature has thus
made essentially either beautiful or sublime.
To this first Class of Hypotheses belong
almost all the Theories of Music, of Archi-
tecture, and of Sculpture; the theory of Mr
Hogarth, of the Abbé Winkelman, and per-
haps, in its last result, also the theory of Sir
Joshua Reynolds. It is the species of Hy-
pothesis which is naturally resorted to by all
Artists and Amateurs, by those, whose ha-
bits of Thought lead them to attend more
to the Causes of their Emotions, than to
the Nature of the Emotions themselves.
xx INTRODUCTION.
$,
\
*.
II. The second Class of Hypotheses arises
from the opposite View of the Subject. It
is that which resists the idea of any new or
peculiar Sense, distinct from the common
principles of our Nature; which supposes
some one known and acknowledged Prin-
ciple or Affection of Mind, to be the founda-
tion of all the Emotions we receive from the
Objects of Taste, and which resolves, there-
fore, all the various Phenomena into some
more general Law of our intellectual or
moral Constitution. Of this kind are the
Hypotheses of M. Diderot, who attributes
all our Emotions of this kind to the percep-
tion of Relation; of Mr Hume, who resolves
them into our Sense of Utility; of the ve-
nerable St Austin, who, with nobler views, a
thousand years ago, resolved them into the
pleasure which belongs to the perception of
Order and Design, &c. It is the species of
Hypothesis most natural to retired and
philosophic Minds; to those, whose habits
have led them to attend more to the Nature
INTRODUCTION. xxi
of the Emotions they felt, than to the
Causes which produced them.
If the success of these long and varied
Inquiries has not corresponded to the Ge-
nius or the industry of the Philosophers
who have pursued them, a suspicion may
arise that there has been something faulty
in the principle of their investigation; and
that some fundamental assumption has been
made, which ought first to have been pa-
tiently and securely ascertained. It was this
suspicion that first led to the following In-
quiries. It seemed to me that the SIMPLI-
CITY OF THE EMOTION OF TASTE, was a
Principle much too hastily adopted; and
that the consequences which followed from
it (under both these Classes of Hypotheses),
were very little reconcileable with the most
common experience of Human Feeling; and
from the examination of this preliminary
Question, I was led gradually to conclu-
sions which seemed not only to me, but to
others, whose opinion I value far more than
xxii INTRODUCTION.
my own, of an importance not unworthy of
being presented to the public. In doing
this, I am conscious that I have entered up-
on a new and untrodden path; and I feel
all my own weakness in pursuing it : yet I
trust my Readers will believe, that I should
not have pursued it so long, if I were not
convinced that it would finally terminate in
views not only important to the Arts of
Taste, but important also to the Philosophy
of the Human mind.
The Inquiries which follow, naturally di-
vide themselves into the following Parts;
and are to be prosecuted in the following
order.
I. I shall begin with an ANALYsis of the
EFFECT which is produced upon the Mind,
when the Emotions of Beauty or Sublimity
are felt. I shall endeavour to show, that
this effect is very different from the deter-
mination of a SENSE ; that it is not in fact
a Simple, but a Complex Emotion ; that it
involves, in all cases, 1st, the production of
INTRODUCTION. xxiii
some Simple Emotion, or the exercise of
some moral affection, and, 2dly, the con-
sequent Excitement of a peculiar Exercise
of the Imagination; that these concomitant
effects are distinguishable, and very often
distinguished in our experience; and that
the peculiar pleasure of the BEAUTIFUL or
the SUBLIME is only felt when these two ef-
fects are conjoined, and the Complex Emo-
tion produced.
The prosecution of this Subject will lead
to another Inquiry of some difficulty and
extent, viz. into the origin of the Beauty
and Sublimity of the Qualities of MATTER.
To this subordinate Inquiry I shall devote
a separate Essay. I shall endeavour to
show, that all the Phenomena are reducible
to the same general Principle, and that the
Qualities of Matter are not beautiful or
sublime in themselves, but as they are,
by various means, the Signs or Expressions
of Qualities capable of producing Emo-
tion.
xxiv. INTRODUCTION.
II. From this Examination of the EF-
FECT I shall proceed, in the SEcond PART,
to investigate the CAUSEs which are pro-
ductive of it; or, in other words, the Sources
of the Beautiful and the Sublime in Nature
and Art.
In the course of this investigation, I shall
endeavour to show, 1st, That there is no
single emotion into which these varied ef-
fects can be resolved; that on the contrary,
every simple emotion, and therefore every
object which is capable of producing any
simple emotion, may be the foundation of
the complex emotion of Beauty or Sublimi-
ty. But, in the second place, that this com-
plex emotion of Beauty or Sublimity is
never produced, unless, beside the excite-
ment of some simple emotion, the imagina-
tion also is excited, and the exercise of the
two faculties combined in the general ef-
fect. The prosecution of the subject, will
lead meto the principal object of the inquiry,
to show what is that LAw of MIND, accord-
HNTRODUCTION. XXV
ing to which, in actual life, this exercise or
employment of imagination is excited; and
what are the means by which, in the differ-
ent Fine Arts, the artist is able to awaken
this important exercise of imagination, and
to exalt objects of simple and common plea-
sure, into objects of Beauty or Sublimity.
In this part of the subject, there are two
subordinate inquiries which will necessarily
demand attention. -
1. The Qualities of Sublimity and Beau-
ty, are discovered not only in pleasing or
agreeable subjects, but frequently also in
objects that are in themselves productive of
PAIN; and some of the noblest produc-
tions of the Fine Arts are founded upon
subjects of TERROR and DISTREss. It
will form, therefore, an obvious and import-
ant inquiry, to ascertain by what means
this singular effect is produced in REAL
NATURE, and by what means it may be /
produced in the Compositions of ART.
2. There is a distinction in the effects
xxvi INTRODUCTION.
produced upon our minds by objects of
Taste; and this distinction, both in the EMo-
TIONS and their cAUSEs, has been expres–
sed by the terms of SUBLIMITY and
BEAUTY. It will form, therefore, a second
object of inquiry to ascertain THE NATURE
of THIS DISTINCTION, both with regard to
these emotions and to the qualities that
produce them.
III. From the preceding inquiries I shall
proceed, in the LAST PART, to investigate
the NATURE of that Faculty by which these
emotions are perceived and felt. I shall
endeavour to show, that it has no resem-
blance to a sense; that as, whenever it is
employed, two distinct and independent
Powers of Mind are employed, it is not to
be considered as a separate and peculiar
faculty, and that it is finally to be resolved
into more general Principles of our con-
stitution. These speculations will proba-
bly lead to the important inquiry, whether
INTRODUCTION. xxvii
there is any STANDARD by which the per-
fection or imperfection of our sentiments
upon these subjects may be determined ;
to some explanation of the means by
which Taste may be corrected or improved;
and to some illustration of the PURPOSEs
which this peculiar constitution of our na-
ture serves, in the increase of human HAP-
PINESS, and the exaltation of human CHA-
RACTER,
I feel it incumbent on me, however, to
inform my Readers, that I am to employ,
in these Inquiries, a different kind of evi-
dence from what has usually been employ-
ed by writers upon these subjects, and that
my illustrations will be derived, much less
from the compositions of the Fine Arts,
than from the appearances of common na-
ture, and the experience of common men.
If the Fine Arts are in reality arts of imi-
tation, their Principles are to be sought for
in the subject which they imitate; and it is
ever to be remembered, “That Music, Ar-
xxviii INTRODUCTION.
“chitecture, and Painting, as well as Poet-
“ry and Oratory, are to deduce their laws
“ and rules from the general Sense and Taste
“ of mankind, and not from the principles
“of these Arts themselves; in other words,
“ that the Taste is not to conform to the
| “...Art, but the Art to the Taste.” * In fol-
lowing this mode of illustration, while I am
sensible that I render my book less amus-
ing, I trust I may render it more useful.
The most effectual method to check the
empiricism, either of Art or of Science, is
to multiply, as far as possible, the number
of those who can observe, and judge ; and
(whatever may be the conclusions of my
readers with regard to my own particular
opinions), I shall not have occupied their at-
tention in vain, if I can lead them to think
and to feel for themselves; to employ the
powers which are given them to the ends for
which they were given; and, upon subjects
* Mr Addison.
INTRODUCTION. xxix
where all men are entitled to judge, to dis-
regard alike the abstract refinements of the
Philosopher who speculates in the closet,
and the technical doctrines of the Artist
who dictates in the school.
ESSAY I.
ON THE
NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
OF
SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY.
VOL. I. C
ESSAY I.
on THE NATURE of THE EMOTIONs of
SU B LIMIT Y. A N D B E A U T Y.
CHAPTER. I.
Of the Effect produced upon the Imagi-
nation by Objects of Sublimity and
Beauty. --
SECTION I.
THE Emotions of Sublimity and Beauty are
uniformly ascribed, both in popular and in
philosophical language, to the Imagination.
The Fine Arts are considered as the arts
which are addressed to the imagination;
and the pleasures they afford are describ-
ed, by way of distinction, as the Pleasures
C 2
4. NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
of the Imagination. The nature of any
person's taste is, in common life, generally
determined by the nature or character of
his imagination; and the expression of #hy
deficiency in this power of mind, is consi-
dered as synonymous with the expression
of a similar deficiency in point of taste.
Although, however, this connexion is so
generally acknowledged, it is not perhaps
as generally understood in what it consists,
or what is the nature of that effect which is
produced upon the imagination by objects
of sublimity and beauty. I shall endea-
vour, therefore, in the first place, to state
what seems to me the nature of this EFFECT,
or, in what that exercise of imagination con-
sists, which is so generally supposed to take
- place, when these emotions are felt. *
When any object, either of sublimity or
beauty, is presented to the mind, I believe
every man is conscious of a train of thought
being immediately awakened in his imagi-
nation, analogous to the character or ex-
of SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 5
pression of the original object. The sim-
ple perception of the object, we frequently
find, is insufficient to excite these emotions,
unless it is accompanied with this opera-
tion of mind,-unless, according to common
expression, our imagination is seized, and
our fancy busied in the pursuit of all those
trains of thought which are allied to this
character or expression.
Thus, when we feel either the beauty or
sublimity of natural scenery,–the gay lustre
of a morning in spring, or the mild radiance
of a summer evening, the savage majesty of
a wintry storm, or the wild magnificence of
a tempestuous ocean,—we are conscious of
a variety of images in our minds, very differ-
ent from those which the objects themselves
can present to the eye, Trains of pleasing
or of solemn thought arise spontaneously
within our minds ; our hearts swell with
emotions, of which the objects before ps
seem to afford no adequate cause ; and we
are never so much satiated with delight, as
6 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
when, in recalling our attention, we are un-
able to trace either the progress or the con-
nexion of those thoughts, which have pass-
ed with so much rapidity through our ima-
gination.
The effect of the different arts of Taste is
similar. The landscapes of Claude Lor-
raine, the music of Handel, the poetry of
Milton, excite feeble emotions in our minds
when our attention is confined to the quali-
ties they present to our senses, or when it
is to such qualities of their composition that
we turn our regard. It is then, only, we
feel the sublimity or beauty of their produc-
tions, when our imaginations are kindled
by their power, when we lose ourselves
amid the number of images that pass be-
fore our minds, and when we waken at last
from this play of fancy, as from the charm
of a romantic dream. The beautiful apo-
strophe of the Abbé de Lille upon the sub-
ject of gardening— -
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 7
N'avez-vous pas souvent, au lieux infrequentés,
Rencontré tout-à-coup, ces aspects enchantés,
Qui suspendent vos pas, dont l'image chérie ,
Vous jette en une douce et longue réverie 2
is equally applicable to every other com-
position of taste; and in the production of
such trains of thought, seems to consist the
effect which objects of sublimity and beauty
have upon the imagination. . . .
For the truth of this observation itself, I
must finally appeal to the consciousness of
the reader; but there are some very familiar
considerations, which it may be useful to
suggest, that seem very strongly to show the
connexion between this exercise of imagi-
nation, and the existence of the emotions of
sublimity or beauty.
8 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
SECTION II.
THAT unless this exercise of imagination
is excited, the emotions of Beauty or Subli-
mity are unfelt, seems capable of illustra-
tion, from many instances of a very familiar
kind.
I.
If the mind is in such a state as to pre-
vent this freedom of imagination, the emo-
tion, whether of sublimity or beauty, is un-
perceived. In so far as the beauties of art
or nature affect the external senses, their
effect is the same upon every man who is
in possession of these senses. But to a
man in pain or in grief, whose mind, by
these means, is attentive only to one object
or consideration, the same scene, or the
same form, will produce no feeling of ad-
miration, which, at other times, when his
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 9
imagination was at liberty, would have pro-
duced it in its fullest perfection. What-
ever is great or beautiful in the scenery of
external nature, is almost constantly before
us; and not a day passes, without pre-
senting us with appearances, fitted both to
charm and to elevate our minds; yet it is
in general with a heedless eye that we re-
gard them, and only in particular moments
that we are sensible of their power. There
is no man, for instance, who has not felt
the beauty of sunset; yet every one can
remember many instances, when this most
striking scene had no effect at all upon his
imagination; and when he has beheld all
the magnificence with which Nature gene-
rally distinguishes the close of day, without
one sentiment of admiration or delight.—
There are times, in the same manner, when
we can read the Georgics, or the Seasons,
with perfect indifference, and with no more
emotion, than what we feel from the most
uninteresting composition in prose; while
IO NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
s
in other moments, the first lines we meet
with take possession of our imagination,
and awaken in it such innumerable trains
of imagery, as almost leave the fancy of the
} poet behind. In these, and similar cases
of difference in our feelings, from the same
objects, it will always be found, that the
difference arises from the state of our ima-
ginations; from our disposition to follow
out the train of thought which such objects
naturally produce, or our incapacity to do
it, from some other idea, which has at that
time taken possession of our minds, and
renders us unable to attend to any thing
else. That state of mind, every man must
have felt, is most favourable to the emo-
tions of taste, in which the imagination is
free and unembarrassed, or, in which the at-
tention is so little occupied by any private
or particular object of thought, as to leave
us open to all the impressions which the
objects that are before us can produce. It
is upon the vacant and the unemployed,
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. II.
accordingly, that the objects of taste make
the strongest impression. It is in such
hours alone, that we turn to the composi-
tions of music, or of poetry, for amusement.
The seasons of care, of grief, or of business,
have other occupations, and destroy, for the
time at least, “our sensibility to the beauti-
ful or the sublime, in the same proportion
that they produce a state of mind unfa-
vourable to the indulgence of imagination.
II.
The same thing is observable in criticism.
When we sit down to appreciate the value
of a poem, or of a painting, and attend
minutely to the language or composition of
the one, or to the colouring or design of the
other, we feel no longer the delight which
they at first produce. Our imagination in
this employment is restrained, and, instead
of yielding to its suggestions, we studiously
endeavour to resist them, by fixing our at-
tention upon minute and partial circum-
12 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
stances of the composition. How much
this operation of mind tends to diminish our
sense of its beauty, every one will feel, who
attends to his own thoughts on such an oc-
casion, or who will recollect how different
was his state of mind, when he first felt the
beauty either of the painting or the poem.
It is this, chiefly, which makes it so difficult
for young people, possessed of imagination,
to judge of the merits of any poem or fable,
and which induces them so often to give
their approbation to compositions of little
value. It is not that they are incapable of
learning in what the merits of such compo-
sitions consist; for these principles of judg-
ment are neither numerous nor abstruse. It
is not that greater experience produces great-
er sensibility, for this everything contradicts;
but it is, because everything, in that period
of life, is able to excite their imaginations,
and to move their hearts; because they judge
of the composition, not by its merits, when
compared with other works, or by its ap-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 13
proach to any abstract or ideal standard,
but by its effect in agitating their imagina-
tions, and leading them into that fairy land
in which the fancy of youth has so much
delight to wander. It is their own ima-
gination which has the charm which they
attribute to the work that excites it; and
the simplest tale, or the poorest novel, is, at
that time, as capable of awakening it, as
afterwards the eloquence of Virgil or Rous-
seau. All this, however, all this flow of ima-
gination, in which youth and men of sen-
sibility are so apt to indulge, and which so
often brings them pleasure at the expense
of their taste, the labour of criticism destroys,
The mind, in such an employment, instead
of being at liberty to follow whatever trains
of imagery the composition before it can
excite, is either fettered to the consideration
of some of its minute and solitary parts; or
pauses amid the rapidity of its conceptions,
to make them the objects of its attention
and review. In these operations, accord-
14, NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
ingly, the emotion, whether of beauty or
sublimity, is lost; and if it is wished to be
recalled, it can only be done by relaxing this
vigour of attention, and resigning ourselves
again to the natural stream of our thoughts.
The mathematician who investigates the de-
monstrations of the Newtonian philosophy,
the painter who studies the designs of Ra-
phael, the poet who reasons upon the mea-
sure of Milton, all, in such occupations, lose
the delight which these several productions
can give; and, when they are willing to re-
cover their emotion, must withdraw their
attention from those minute considerations,
and leave their fancy to expatiate, at will,
amid all the great or pleasing conceptions
which such productions of genius can raise.
III.
The effect which is thus produced upon
the mind by temporary exertions of atten-
tion, is also more permanently produced by
the difference of original character; and the
*.
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 15
degree in which the emotions of sublimity
or beauty are felt, is in general proportion-
ed to the prevalence of those relations of
thought in the mind, upon which this exer-
cise of imagination depends. The principal
relation which seems to take place in those
trains of thought that are produced by ob-
jects of taste, is that of resemblance; the
relation, of all others, the most loose and
general, and which affords the greatest range
of thought for our imagination to pursue.
Wherever, accordingly, these emotions are
felt, it will be found, not only that this is
the relation which principally prevails among
our ideas, but that the emotion itself is pro-
portioned to the degree in which it prevails.
In the effect which is produced upon our
minds, by the different appearances of Na-
tural scenery, it is easy to trace this progress
of resembling thought, and to observe, how
faithfully the conceptions which arise in our
imaginations, correspond to the impressions
which the characters of these seasons pro-
& tº
16 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
duce. What, for instance, is the impression
we feel from the scenery of spring? The
soft and gentle green with which the earth
is spread, the feeble texture of the plants and
flowers, the young of animals just entering
into life, and the remains of winter yet lin-
gering among the woods and hills, all con-
spire to infuse into our minds somewhat of
that fearful tenderness with which infancy
is usually beheld. With such a sentiment,
how innumerable are the ideas which pre-
sent themselves to our imagination ideas,
it is apparent, by no means confined to the
scene before our eyes, or to the possible
desolation which may yet await its infant
beauty, but which almost involuntarily ex-
tend themselves to analogies with the life of
man, and bring before us all those images
of hope or fear, which, according to our pe.
culiar situations, have the dominion of our
heart!—The beauty of autumn is accom-
panied with a similar exercise of thought:
The leaves begin then to drop from the trees;
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 17
the flowers and shrubs, with which the fields
were adorned in the summer months, decay;
the woods and groves are silent; the sun
himself seems gradually to withdraw his light,
or to become enfeebled in his power. Who
is there, who, at this season, does not feel
his mind impressed with a sentiment of me-
lancholy? or who is able to resist that current
of thought, which, from such appearances
of decay, so naturally leads him to the so-
lemn imagination of that inevitable fate,
which is to bring on alike the decay of life,
of empire, and of nature itself? In such
cases of emotion, every man must have felt,
that the character of the scene is no sooner
impressed upon his mind, than various trains
of correspondent imagery rise before his ima-
gination; that, whatever may be the nature
of the impression, the general tone of his
thoughts partakes of this nature or charac- .
ter; and that his delight is proportioned to
the degree in which this uniformity of cha-
racter prevails.
VOL. I. ID
18 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
The same effect, however, is not produced
upon all men. There are many, whom the
prospect of such appearances in nature
excites to no exercise of fancy whatever;
who, by their original constitution, are more
disposed to the employment of attention,
than of imagination ; and who, in the objects
that are presented to them, are more apt to
observe their individual and distinguishing
qualities, than those by which they are re-
lated to other objects of their knowledge.
Upon the minds of such men, the relation
of resemblance has little power; the efforts
of their imagination, accordingly, are either
feeble or slow ; and the general character of
their understandings is that of steady and
precise, rather than that of enlarged and ex-
tensive thought. It is, I believe, consistent
with general experience, that men of this
description are little sensible to the emotions
of sublimity or beauty; and they who have
attended to the language of such men, when
objects of this kind have been presented to
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, 19
them, must have perceived that the emotion
they felt, was no greater than what they
themselves have experienced in those cases
where they have exerted a similar degree
of attention, or when any other cause has
restrained the usual exercise of their imagi-
nation. To the qualities which are produc-
tive of simple emotion, to the useful, the
agreeable, the fitting, or the convenient in
objects, they have the same sensibility with
other men; but of the superior and more
complex emotion of beauty, they seem to
be either altogether unconscious, or to share
in it only in proportion to the degree in
which they can relax this severity of atten-
tion, and yield to the relation of resembling :-
thought.
It is in the same manner, that the pro-
gress of life generally takes from men their
sensibility to the objects of taste. The sea-
son in which these are felt in their fullest
degree is in youth, when, according to com-
mon expression, the imagination is warm,
D 2
20 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
or, in other words, when it is easily excited
to that exertion upon which so much of the
emotion of beauty depends. The business
of life, in the greatest part of mankind, and
the habits of more accurate thought, which
are acquired by the few who reason and re-
flect, tend equally to produce, in both, a
stricter relation in the train of their thoughts,
and greater attention to the objects of their
consideration, than can either be expected,
or can happen in youth. They become, by
these means, not only less easily led to any
exercise of imagination, but their associa-
tions become at the same time less consistent
with the employment of it. The man of
business, who has passed his life in studying
the means of accumulating wealth, and the
philosopher, whose years have been employ-
ed in the investigation of causes, have both
not only acquired a constitution of mind
very little fitted for the indulgence of ima-
gination, but have acquired also associa-
tions of a very different kind from those
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 21
which take place when imagination is em-
ployed. In the first of these characters, the
prospect of any beautiful scene in nature
would induce no other idea than that of its
value. In the other, it would lead only to
speculations upon the causes of the beauty
that was ascribed to it. In both, it would
thus excite ideas, which could be the foun-
dation of no exercise of imagination, be-
cause they required thought and attention.
To a young mind, on the contrary, pos-
sessed of any sensibility, how many pleasing
ideas would not such a prospect afford
ideas of peace, and innocence, and rural joy,
and all the unblemished delights of solitude
and contemplation. In such trains of ima-
gery, no labour of thought, or habits of at-
tention are required ; they rise spontaneous-
ly in the mind, upon the prospect of any
object to which they bear the slightest re-
semblance; and they lead it almost insensi- y
bly along, in a kind of bewitching reverie, |
through all its store of pleasing or interest-
22 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
ing conceptions. To the philosopher, or the
man of business, the emotion of beauty,
from such a scene, would be but feebly
known; but by the young mind, which had
such sensibility, it would be felt in all its
warmth, and would produce an emotion of
delight, which not only would be little com-
prehended by men of a severer or more
thoughtful character, but which seems also
to be very little dependent upon the object
which excites it, and to be derived, in a
great measure, from this exercise of mind
itself
In these familiar instances, it is obvious
how much the emotions of taste are con-
nected with this state or character of ima-
gination; and how much those habits or em-
ployments of mind, which demand atten-
tion, or which limit it to the consideration
of single objects, tend to diminish the sensi-
bility of mankind to the emotions of su-
blimity or beauty,
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, 23
§ ECTION III.
THERE are many other instances equally
familiar, which are sufficient to show, that
whatever increases this exercise or employ-
ment of Imagination, increases also the
Emotion of beauty or sublimity.
I.
This is very obviously the effect of all
Associations. There is no man who has
not some interesting associations with par-
ticular scenes, or airs, or books, and who
does not feel their beauty or sublimity en-
hanced to him by such connexions. The
view of the house where one was born, of
the school where one was educated, and
where the gay years of infancy were passed,
is indifferent to no man. They recall so
many images of past happiness and past
affections,—they are connected with so many
24 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
strong or interesting emotions, and lead
altogether to so long a train of feelings and
recollections, that there is hardly any scene
which one ever beholds with so much rap-
ture. There are songs also, that we have
heard in our infancy, which, when brought
to our remembrance in after years, raise
emotions for which we cannot well ac-
count, and which, though perhaps very in-
different in themselves, still continue, from
this association, and from the variety of con-
ceptions which they kindle in our minds,
to be our favourites through life. The
scenes which have been distinguished by
the residence of any person whose memory
we admire, produce a similar effect. “Mo-
“vemur enim, nescio quo pacto, locis ipsis,
“in quibus eorum, quos diligimus, aut ad-
“miramur adsunt vestigia." The scenes
themselves may be little beautiful ; but
the delight with which we recollect the
traces of their lives, blends itself insensibly
with the emotions which the scenery ex-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, 25
cites; and the admiration which these re-
collections afford, seems to give a kind of
sanctity to the place where they dwelt, and
converts every thing into beauty which ap-
pears to have been connected with them.
There are scenes, undoubtedly, more beau-
tiful than Runnymede; yet, to those who re-
collect the great event which passed there,
there is no scene, perhaps, which so strong-
ly seizes upon the imagination; and al-
though the emotions this recollection pro-
duces, are of a very different kind from
those which the mere natural scenery can
excite, yet they unite themselves so well
with these inferior emotions, and spread so
venerable a charm over the whole, that one
can hardly persuade one's self, that the
scene itself is not entitled to this admiration.
The valley of Vaucluse is celebrated for its
beauty; yet how much of it has been owing
to its being the residence of Petrarch
Mas ceX eaux, ce beau ciel, ce vallon enchanteur,
Moins que Pétrarque et Laure interessoient mon coeur.
ſ26 · NATURE OF TfHE EMOTION8
La voilà donc disois-je, oui, voilà cette rive
Que Pétrarque charmoit de sa lyre plaintive ;
Ici Pétrarque à Laure exprimant son amour,
Voyoit naître t.op tard, mourir trop tot, le jour.
Retrouverai-je encore, sur ces rocs solitaires,
De leurs chiffres unis les tendres caractères ?
Une grotte écartée avoit frappé mes yeux,
Grotte sombre, dis-moi si tu les vis heureux,
M'écriois-je ! un vieux tronc bordoit-il le rivage ?
Laure avoit reposé sous son antique ombrage ;
Je redemandois Laure à l'echo du vallon,
Et l'echo n'avoit point oublié ce doux nom,
Partout mesyeux cherchoient,voyoient,Pétrarque et Laure,
Et par eux, ces beaux lieux s'embellissoient encore.
Les Jardins, Chant 3me.
The Sublime is increased, in the same
manner, by whatever tends to increase this
exercise of imaginatoin. The field of any
celebrated battle becomes sublime from such
associations. No man, acquainted with
| English history, could behold the field of
| Agincourt, without some emotion of this
kind. The additional conceptions which
this association produces, and which fill the
mind of the spectator on the prospect of
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, 27
that memorable field, diffuse themselves in
some measure over the scene, and give it a
sublimity which does not naturally belong to
it. The majesty of the Alps themselves is
increased by the remembrance of Hannibal's
march over them : And who is there, that
could stand on the banks of the Rubicon,
without feeling his imagination kindle, and
his heart beat high P
“Middleton Dale,” says Mr Whately,
“is a cleft between rocks, ascending gradu-
“ally from a romantic village, till it emer-
“ges, at about two miles distance, on the
“vast moorlands of the peak. It is a dis-
“mal entrance to a desert: the hills above
“it are bare, the rocks are of a grey colour,
“their surfaces are rugged, and their shapes
“savage, frequently terminating in craggy
“points, sometimes resembling vast un-
“wieldy bulwarks, or rising in heavy but-
“tresses one above another, and here and
“ there a mishapen mass bulging out, hangs
“lowering over its base, No traces of men
28 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
“are to be seen, except in a road which has
“no effect on such a scene of desolation,
“ and in the limekilns constantly smoking
“on the side. The soil is disfigured with
“all the tinges of brown and red, which de-
“note barrenness; in some places it has
“crumbled away, and strata of loose dark
“stones only appear; and in others, long
“ lines of dross, shovelled out of the mines,
“have fallen down the steeps. In these
“mines, the veins of lead, on one side of
“the Dale, are observed always to have
“corresponding veins, in the same direc-
“tion, on the other; and the rocks, though
“ differing widely in different places, yet al-
“ways continue in one style for some way
“together, and seem to have a relation to
“each other. Both these appearances
“make it probable that Middleton Dale is
“a chasm rent in the mountains by some
“convulsion of nature beyond the memory
“of man, or perhaps before the island was
“peopled. The scene, though it does not
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 29
“prove the fact, yet justifies the supposi-
“tion, and it gives credit to the tales of the
“country people, who, to aggravate its hor-
“rors, always point to a precipice, down
“ which they say a young woman of the
“village threw herself headlong, in despair
“at the neglect of a man whom she loved ;
“ and show a cavern, where a skeleton once
“ was discovered, but of what wretch is un-
“known ; his bones were the only memo-
“rial left of him.”—Observations upon
Modern Gardening, p. 93.
It is surely unnecessary to remark, how
much the sublimity of this extraordinary
scene is increased, by the circumstances of
horror which are so finely connected with
it.
One of the sublimest objects in natural
scenery, is an old and deep wood covering
the side of a mountain when seen from be-
low ; yet how much greater sublimity is
given to it, by Dr Akenside, by the addi-
30 NATU. RE OF THE EMOTION 8
tion of the solemn images which, in the fol-
lowing lines, are associated with it !
—Mark the sable woods
That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow.
With what religious awe the solemn scene
Commands your steps as if the reverend form
Of Minos, or of Numa, should forsake
Th' Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade
Move to your pausing eye.
Pleasures of Imagination, Book iii.
There is a passage in one of the Odes of
the same poet, in which a scene, which is
in general only beautiful, is rendered strik-
ingly sublime, from the imagery with which
it is associated.
'Tis thus to work her baneful power,
Suspicion waits the sullen hour
Of fretfulness and strife,
When care the infirmer bosom wrings,
Or Eurus waves his murky wings,
To damp the seats of life.
But come, forsake the scene unbless'd
Which first beheld your faithful breast
To groundless fears a prey;
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 31
Come, where with my prevailing lyre,
The skies, the streams, the groves conspire
To charm your doubts away.
Thron'd in the sun's descending car,
What Power unseen diffuseth far
This tenderness of mind?
What Genius smiles on yonder flood |
What God in whispers from the wood
Bids every thought be kind?
Ode to Suspicion.
I know not, however, any instance where
the effect of any association is so remark-
able in bestowing sublimity on objects, to
which it does not naturally belong, as in the
following inimitable poem of Buchanan's
on the Month of May. This season is, in
general, fitted to excite emotions very dif-
ferent from sublimity; and the numerous
poems which have been written in celebra-
tion of it, dwell uniformly on its circum-
stances of “vernal joy. ” In this ode, how-
ever, the circumstances which the poet has
selected, are of a kind, which, to me, ap-
pear inexpressibly sublime, and distinguish
32 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
the poem itself by a degree and character of
grandeur which I have never felt equalled
in any other composition. The idea of it
was probably taken from these fine lines of
Virgil in the second Georgic, in describing
the effects of spring—
Non alios, prima crescentis origine mundi
Illuxisse dies, aliumve habuisse tenorem
Crediderim: Ver illud erat, ver magnus agebat
Orbis, et hybernis parcebant flatibus Euri:
Cum primum lucem pecudes hausere, virtimque
Ferrea progenies duris caput extulit arvis,
Immissaeque ferae sylvis, et sidera coelo.
I believe, however, no man will doubt how
much Buchanan has improved upon this
beautiful idea.
CALENDAE MALE.
Salvete sacris deliciis sacrae
Maiae Calendae, laetitiae, et mero,
Ludisque dicatae, jocisque,
Et teneris Charitum choreis.
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 33
Salve voluptas, et nitidum decus
Anni recurrens perpetua vice,
Et flos renascentis juventae
In senium properantis aevi.
Cum blanda veris temperies novo
Illuxit orbi, primaque secula
Fulsere flaventi metallo,
Sponte sua, sine lege justã,
Talis per omnes continuus tenor
Annos tepenti rura Favonio
Mulcebat, et nullis feraces,
Seminibus recreabat agros.
Talis beatis incubat insulis
Felicis aurae perpetuus tepor,
Et mesciis campis senectae
Diffieilis, querulique morbi.
Talis silentum per tacitum nemus
Levi susurret murmure spiritus,
Lethenque juxta obliviosam
Funereas agitat cupressos.
Forsan supremis cum Deus ignibus
Piabit orbem, laetaque secula
Mundo reducet, talis aura
AEthereos animos fovebit.
Salve fugacis gloria seculi,
Salve secunda digna dies nota,
Salve vetustae vitae imago,
Et specimen venientis a vi.
WOL. I. E
84 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
National associations have a similar effect
in increasing the emotions of sublimity and
beauty, as they very obviously increase the
number of images presented to the mind.
The fine lines which Virgil has dedicated
in his Georgics to the praises of his native
country, however beautiful to us, were yet
undoubtedly read with a far superior emo-
tion by an ancient Roman. The prodigies
which the same poet has described, as pre-
ceding the death of Caesar, and the still
more minute description which Lucan, in
the first book of his Pharsalia, has given of
such events, on the approach of the civil
war, must probably have given to a Roman,
who was under the dominion of such nation-
al superstitions, the strongest emotions of
sublimity and terror; but we read them
now without any other emotion, than what
arises from the beauty of the composition.
The influence of such associations, in in-
creasing either the beauty or sublimity of
Musical composition, can hardly have e-
**us
of StjäLIMITY AND HEAUTY. §§
scaped any person's observation. The trifling
tune called Belleisle March is said, by a very
eminent writer, to have owed its popularity
among the people of England, to the Sup-
position, that it was the tune which was
played, when the English army marched
into Belleisle, and to its consequent asso-
ciation with images of fame, and conquest,
and military glory. There are other tunes
of the same character, which, without any
peculiar merit, yet always serve to please
the people, whenever they are performed.
The natives of any country which possesses
a national or characteristic music, need not
be reminded, how strongly the performance
of such airs brings back to them the ima-
gery of their native land; and must often
have had occasion to remark how inferior
an emotion they excite in those who are
strangers to such associations. The effect
of the celebrated national song, which is
said to overpower the Swiss soldier in a
foreign land with melancholy and despair,
E 2
36 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
and which it is therefore found necessary
to forbid in the armies in which they serve,
cannot surely be attributed to its composi-
tion alone, but to the recollections that it
brings, and to those images that it kindles
in his mind, of peace, and freedom, and do-
mestic pleasure, from which he is torn, and
to which he may never return. Whatever
may be the sublimity of Handel's music,
the singular effect of it on some late oc-
casions, is, doubtless, not to be ascribed to
that sublimity alone, but in a peculiar man-
ner to the place where it was performed;
not only from the sacredness of that place,
which is, of itself, so well fitted to excite
many awful emotions; but, in a consider-
able degree also, from its being the repo-
sitory of so many “illustrious dead,” and
the scene, perhaps of all others, most sacred
to those who have any sensibility to the
glories of their country. .
There are associations, also, which arise
from particular professions, or habits of
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 37
thought, which serve very well to illustrate
the same observation. No man, in general,
is sensible to beauty, in those subjects with
regard to which he has not previous ideas.
The beauty of a theory, or of a relic of an-
tiquity, is unintelligible to a peasant. The
charms of the country are altogether lost
upon a citizen, who has passed his life in
town. In the same manner, the more that
our ideas are increased, or our conceptions
extended upon any subject, the greater the
number of associations we connect with it,
the stronger is the emotion of sublimity or
beauty we receive from it.
The pleasure, for instance, which the ge-
nerality of mankind receive from any cele-
brated painting, is trifling when compared
to that which a painter feels, if he is a man
of any common degree of candour. What
is to them only an accurate representation
of nature, is to him a beautiful exertion of
genius, and a perfect display of art. The
difficulties which occur to his mind in the
38 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
*
design and execution of such a performance,
and the testimonies of skill, of taste, and of
invention, which the accomplishment of it
exhibits, excite a variety of emotions in his
breast, of which the common spectator is
altogether unsusceptible; and the admira-
tion with which he thus contemplates the
genius and art of the painter, blends itself
with the peculiar emotions which the picture
itself can produce, and enhances to him
every beauty that it may possess.
The beauty of any scene in nature is sel-
dom so striking to others, as it is to a land-
scape painter, or to those who profess the
beautiful art of laying out grounds. The
difficulties both of invention and execution
which from their professions are familiar to
them, render the profusion with which na-
ture often scatters the most picturesque beau-
ties, little less than miraculous. Every little
circumstance of form and perspective, and
light and shade, which are unnoticed by a
common eye, are important in theirs, and,
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY a 39
mingling in their minds the ideas of difficul-
ty, and facility in overcoming it, produce
altogether an emotion of delight, incompar-
ably more animated than any that the gene-
rality of mankind usually derive from it.
The delight which most men of education
receive from the consideration of antiquity,
and the beauty that they discover in every
object which is connected with ancient
times, is in a great measure to be ascribed
to the same cause. The antiquarian, in his
cabinet, surrounded by the relics of former
ages, seems to himself to be removed to pe-
riods that are long since past, and indulges
in the imagination of hiving in a world,
which, by a very natural kind of prejudice,
we are always willing to believe was both
wiser and better than the present. All that
is venerable or laudable in the history of
those times present themselves to his memo-
ry. The gallantry, the heroism, the patriot-
ism of antiquity rise again before his view,
softened by the obscurity in which they are
40 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
involved, and rendered more seducing to
the imagination by that obscurity itself,
which, while it mingles a sentiment of regret
amid his pursuits, serves at the same time
to stimulate his fancy to fill up, by its own
creation, those long intervals of time of
which history has preserved no record. The
relics he contemplates seem to approach
him still nearer to the ages of his regard.
The dress, the furniture, the arms of the
times, are so many assistances to his ima-
gination, in guiding or directing its exercise,
and, offering him a thousand sources of
imagery, provide him with an almost inex-
haustible field in which his memory and his
fancy may expatiate. There are few men
who have not felt somewhat, at least, of the
delight of such an employment. There is
no man in the least acquainted with the his-
tory of antiquity, who does not love to let
his imagination loose on the prospect of its
remains, and to whom they are not in some
measure Sacred, from the innumerable ima-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 41
ges which they bring. Even the peasant,
whose knowledge of former years extends
but to a few generations, has yet in his vil-
lage some monument of the deeds or virtues
of his forefathers; and cherishes with a fond
veneration the memorial of those good old
times to which his imagination returns with
delight, and of which he loves to recount
the simple tales that tradition has brought
him.
And what is it that constitutes that emo-
tion of sublime delight, which every man of
common sensibility feels upon the first pro-
spect of Rome? It is not the scene of de-
struction which is before him. It is not the
Tiber, diminished in his imagination to a
paltry stream, and stagnating amid the ruins
of that magnificence which it once adorned.
It is not the triumph of superstition over the
wreck of human greatness, and its monu-
ments erected upon the very spot where the
first honours of humanity have been gained.
It is ancient Rome which fills his imagina-
42 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
tion. It is the country of Caesar, and Cicero,
and Virgil, which is before him. It is the
mistress of the world which he sees, and
who seems to him to rise again from her
tomb, to give laws to the universe. All
that the labours of his youth, or the studies
of his maturer age have acquired, with re-
gard to the history of this great people,
open at once before his imagination, and
present him with a field of high and solemn
imagery, which can never be exhausted.
Take from him these associations, conceal
from him that it is Rome that he sees, and
.
*ºº
how different would be his emotionſ
II. ? 4.
The effect which is thus produced, by
Associations, in increasing the emotions of
sublimity or beauty, is produced also, either
in nature or in description, by what are
generally termed Picturesque Objects. In-
stances of such objects are familiar to every
one's observation. An old tower in the
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 43
middle of a deep wood, a bridge flung across
a chasm between rocks, a cottage on a pre-
cipice, are common examples. If I am
not mistaken, the effect which such objects
have on every one's mind, is to suggest an
additional train of conceptions, beside what
the scene or description itself would have
suggested; for it is very obvious, that no
objects are remarked as picturesque, which
do not strike the imagination by themselves. ſ
They are, in general, such circumstances
as coincide, but are not necessarily con-
nected, with the character of the scene or
description, and which, at first affecting the
mind with an emotion of surprise, produce
afterwards an increased or additional train
of imagery. The effect of such objects, in
increasing the emotions either of beauty or
sublimity, will probably be obvious from the
following instances.
The beauty of sunset, in a fine autumnal
evening, seems almost incapable of addition
from any circumstance. The various and
44 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
radiant colouring of the clouds; the soft light
of the Sun, that gives so rich a glow to every
object on which it falls; the long but mellow
shades with which it is contrasted ; and the
calm and deep repose that seems to steal
over universal nature, form altogether a
scene, which serves, perhaps better than any
other in the world, to satiate the imagina-
tion with delight: Yet there is no man who
does not know how great an addition this
fine scene is capable of receiving from the
circumstance of the evening bell. In what,
however, does the effect of this most pic-
turesque circumstance consist? Is it not in
the additional images which are thus sug-
gested to the imagination P images indeed of
melancholy and sadness, but which still are
pleasing, and which serve most wonderfully
to accord with that solemn and pensive state
of mind, which is almost irresistibly produ-
ced by this fascinating scene.
Nothing can be more beautiful than Dr
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 45
Goldsmith's description of evening, in the
Deserted Village—
Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.
There as I past with careless steps and slow,
The mingling notes came soften’d from below:
The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,
The sober herd that low'd to meet their young,
The moisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
The playful children just let loose from school,
The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.
Yet how much is the beauty of this descrip-
tion increased, by the fine circumstance with
which it is closed
These all in soft confusion sought the shade,
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
There is a beauty of the same kind pro-
duced in the “ Seasons,” by the addition of
one of the most picturesque circumstances
that was ever imagined by a poet—
46 NATURE bf THE EMotions
- Lead me to the mountain brow,
Where sits the shepherd on the grassy turf,
Inhaling, healthful, the descending sun.
Around him feeds his many-bleating flock,
Of various cadence, and his sportive lambs
Their frolics play; and now the sprightly race
Invites them forth, when swift, the signal given,
They start away, and sweep the mossy mound
That runs around the hill; the rampart once
Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times.
Spring.
The scene is undoubtedly beautiful of it-
self, without the addition of the last circum-
stance; yet how much more beautiful does
it become, by the new order of thought
which this circumstance awakens in the
mind, and which, contrasting the remem-
brance of ancient warfare and turbulent
times, with the serenity and repose of the
modern scene, agitate the imagination with
a variety of indistinct conceptions, which
otherwise could never have arisen in it!
The physical arguments of Buchanan, in
his poem “de Sphaera, ’’ against the doctrine
of the motion of the earth, are probably
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 47
read with little emotion; but it is impos-
sible to read the following lines of it with-
out delight, from the very picturesque ima-
gery which they contain.
Ergo tam celeri tellus si concita motu
Iret in Occasum, rurusque rediret in Ortum,
Cuncta simul quateret secum, vastoque fragore,
Templa, aedes, miserisque etiam cum civibus, urbes
Opprimerit subitae strages inopina ruinae.
Ipsae etiam volucres tranantes aéra leni
Remigio alarum, celeri vertigine terrae
Abreptas gemerent sylvas, nidosque tenella
Cum sobole et chara forsan cum conjuge; nec se
Auderet zephyro solus committere turtur,
Ne procul ablatos, terra fugiente, Hymenaeos
Et viduum longo luctu defleret amorem.
Lib. 1.
There is a very striking beauty of the same
kind in a little poem of Dr Beattie's, enti-
tled “Retirement.”
Thy shades, thy silence now be mine,
Thy charms my only theme;
My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine
Waves o'er the gloomy stream,
Where the scar'd owl on pinions grey
Breaks from the rustling boughs,
48 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
And down the lone vale sails away
To more profound repose.
“All,” says Mr Whately, in describing the
Tinian Lawn at Hagley, “all here is of an
“even temper, all mild, placid and serene;
“in the gayest season of the day, not more
“ than cheerful; in the stillest watch of
“night, not gloomy. The scene is indeed
“peculiarly adapted to the tranquillity of
“the latter, when the moon seems to repose
“her light on the thick foliage of the grove,
“ and steadily marks the shade of every
“bough. It is delightful then to saunter
“here, and see the grass and the gossamer
“which entwines it glistening with dew, to
“listen and hear nothing stir, except per-
“haps a withered leaf, dropping gently
“through a tree, and sheltered from the
“chill, to catch the freshness of the evening
“air.” It is difficult to conceive any thing
more beautiful than this description ; yet
how much is its beauty increased by the
concluding circumstance! “A Solitary urn,
2
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 49
“chosen by Mr Pope for the spot, and now
“inscribed to his memory, when seen by a
“gleam of moonlight through the trees,
“fixes that thoughtfulness and composure,
“to which the mind is insensibly led by the
“rest of this elegant scene.”—Observations
on Gardening, p. 201.
I shall conclude these instances of the
effect of picturesque objects, in increasing
the emotion of Beauty, with a passage from
the Iliad, which contains one of the most
striking images that I know of, in poetry,
and which I am the more willing to quote,
as it has not been so much taken notice
of as it deserves. It is the appearance
of Achilles, when Phoenix and Ulysses are
sent from the Grecian camp to appease his
wrath—
Tº 3; 34 rºw wage, ºiva, weavºxoiréeto 64×arrns,
IIoxx& wºx' ºxotówaſ yacinézº’Eyvoryatº,
‘rºles wiztá, ****, *čína, Aiaziºa,'
- Mvelabºray 3' ini re zairls; 3 viz; isérº.
VOL. I. F . . . ."
50 NATUR E OF THE EMOTIONS
Toy 3 steow pºva rézéusrov påeaſy, xyiſº,
Koxi, 3aiºzat, ºr 3' 360 ves& ©vya; Åsn'
Tºy *ger # wašov, ºrvéxty 'Hatiovo, 32.Écoag'
Tº ºvs 69Xby Érigºrºv, &siº 3’ &ga ×xão, dºeāy'
Iliad, Lib. ix. v. 182.
Thro' the still night they march, and hear the roar
Of murmuring billows on the sounding shore;
And now arrived, where on the sandy bay,
The Myrmidonian tents and vessels lay,
Amus'd, at ease, the godlike man they found
Pleas'd with the solemn harp's harmonious sound.
With this he sooths his angry soul, and sings
Th’ immortal deeds of heroes and of kings.
* - - Book ix. v. 236.
It was impossible for the poet to have ima-
gined any other occupation so well fitted
to the mighty mind of Achilles, or so effec-
tual in interesting the reader in the fate of
him, whom Dr Beattie calls, with truth, the
most terrific human personage that poetical
imagination has feigned.
The sublime is increased, in the same
manner, by the addition of picturesque ob-
jects. The striking image with which Vir-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 51
gil concludes the description of the prodi-
gies which attended the death of Caesar, is
well known—
Scilicet et tempus veniet, quum finibus illis
Agricola, incurvo terram molitus aratro,
Exesa inveniet scabra rubigine pila,
Aut gravibus rastris galeas pulsabit inanis,
Grandiaque effossis mirabitur ossa sepulcris.
There are few passages more sublime in
the Pharsalia of Lucan, than the descrip-
tion in the third Book, of one of Pompey's
armies, blocked up by Caesar in a part of
the country where there was no water, and
where the soldiers were perishing with thirst.
After describing, very minutely, the fruitless
attempts of the army to obtain relief, and
the miserable expedients with which they
endeavoured to supply their wants, he pro-
ceeds in the following nervous and beauti-
ful lines, of which, I am persuaded, the last
circumstance is too striking to require any
COmment—
IF 2
52 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
O fortunati, fugiens quos barbarus hostis,
Fontibus immisto stravit per rura veneno.
Hos licet in fluvios saniem, tabemgue ferarum,
Pallida Dictaeis Caesar, nascentia saxis
Infundas aconita palam, Romana juventus
Non decepta bibet—torrentur viscera flamma
Oraque sicca rigent squamosis aspera linguis;
Jam marcent venae, nulloque humore rigatus
Aëris alternos angustat Pulmo meatus,
Rescissoque noscent suspiria dura palato.
Pandunt ora siti, nocturnumque aëra captant.
Expectant imbres, quorum modo cuncta matabant
Impulsu, et siccis vultus in nubibus haerent.
Quoque magis miseros undae jejunia solvant
Non, super arantem Meroen, Cancrique sub axe
Qua nudi Garamantes arant, sedere, sed inter
Stagnantem Sicorim, et rapidum deprensus Iberum,
Spectat vicinos, sitiens exercitus, amnes.
Lib. iv. ad med.
The fine description in the Gierusalemme
Liberata, of a similar distress in the army
of Godfrey, before the walls of Jerusalem,
has probably been borrowed from this pas-
sage of Lucan ; and it is pleasing to ob-
serve, with what address Tasso has imitated,
though not copied, the picturesque circum-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 53
stance with which the description of the
Roman poet is closed. Instead of aggra-
vating the distress of the soldier, by the
prospect of waters which he could not ap-
proach, he recalls to his remembrance the
cool shades and still fountains of his native
land; a circumstance, not only singularly
pathetic, but more fertile also of imagery,
than perhaps any other that the poet could
have imagined—
S’alcun giamai tra frondeggiente rive
Puro vide stagnar liquido argento,
Ogili precipitose vi acque vive
Per Alpe, o'n piaggia èrboso a passo lento;
Quello al vago desio forma, e descrive,
E ministra materia al suo tormento.
In Thomson's description of Winter in the
northern regions, though the description it-
self is sublime, yet one additional circum-
stance adds powerfully to its sublimity—
Thence, winding eastward to the Tartar coast,
She sweeps the howling margin of the main,
54 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
Where, undissolving from the first of time
Snows swell on snows, amazing, to the sky,
And icy mountains, high on mountains pil'd,
Seem to the shivering sailor, from afar,
Shapeless and white, an atmosphere of clouds.
Ocean itself no longer can resist
The binding fury: but in all its rage
Of tempest, taken by the boundless frost,
Is many a fathom to the bottom chained,
And bid to roar no more—a bleak expanse
Shagg'd o'er with wavy rocks, cheerless and void
Of every life, that from the dreary months
Flies, conscious, southward. Miserable they !
Who, here entangled in the gathering ice,
Take their last look of the descending sun,
while full of death, and fierce with tenfold frost,
The long, long night, incumbent o'er their heads
Falls horrible.
In the following masterly description of
a very sublime scene in nature, by Mr
Whately, I doubt not but that it will be
acknowledged, how much the sublimity of
it is increased, by the very picturesque ima-
gery which the occupations of the inhabit-
ants afford. “A scene at the New Weir,
“on the river Wye, which in itself is truly
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 55.
“great and awful, so far from being dis-
“turbed, becomes more interesting and im-
“ portant, by the business to which it is des-
“tined. It is a chasm between two ranges
“of hills, which rise almost perpendicularly
“from the water; the rocks on the sides
“ are mostly heavy masses, and their colour
“ is generally brown; but here and there a
“ pale craggy cliff starts up to a vast height
“ above the rest, unconnected, broken, and
“bare; large trees frequently force out their
“way amongst them, and many of them
“stand far back in the covert, where
“ their natural dusky hue is deepened by
“ the shadow which overhangs them. The
‘ river, too, as it retires, loses itself amid the
G
“woods, which close immediately above,
“ then rise thick and high, and darken the
“water. In the midst of all this gloom is
“an iron forge, covered with a black cloud
“of smoke, and surrounded with half-burn-
“ed ore, with coal, and with cinders. The
t
‘ fuel for it is brought down a path, worn
56. NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
“into steps, narrow, and steep, and wind-
“ing among the precipices; and near it is
“an open space of barren moor, about
“which are scattered the huts of the work-
“men. It stands close to the cascade of
“the Weir, where the agitation of the cur-
“rent is increased by large fragments of
“rocks which have been swept down by
“floods from the banks, or shivered by tem-
“ pests from the brow; and, at stated inter-
“vals, the sullen sound, from the strokes of
“the great hammers in the forge, deadens
“ the roar of the waterfall.”—Page 109.
There is a similar beauty, if I am not
mistaken, in the conclusion of the following
passage from Mons. Diderot.
“ Qu'est ce qu'il faut au poete? Est-ce
“une nature brute ou cultivée P paisible
“ou troublée P Préféra-t-il la beauté d'un
“jour pur et serein, a l'horreur d'une nuit
“obscure, où le siflement interrompu des
“ vents se mêle par intervalles au mur-
“mure sourd et continu d'un tonnerre
OF SU 3LIMITY AND BEAUTY. 57
* éloigné, et où il voit l'éclair allumer le
* ciel sur la tête ? Préféra-t-il le spectacle
* d'une mer tranquille, à celui des flots
* agitées ? le muet et froid aspect d'un pa-
* lais, à la proménade parmi des ruines ?
* un édifice construit, un éspace planté de la
* main des hommes, au touffu d'une antique
* forêt, au creux ignoré d'une roche deserte ?
* des nappes d'eau, des bassins, des cas-
* cades, à la vûe d'une cataracte qui se
* brise en tombant à travers des rochers, et
* dont le bruit se fait entendre au loin du
* berger, qui a conduit son troupeau dans
* la montagne, et qui l'écoute avec éffroi ?"
—Epître à Mons. Grimm, sur la Poësie
Dramatique.
I shall conclude these illustrations with a
very sublime one from the Paradise Regain-
ed of Milton, in which I believe the force
of the concluding stroke will not be denied.
Either tropic now
'Gan thunder, and both ends of Heav'n ; the clouds
From many a horrid rift abortive, pour'd :-
Fierce rain, with lightning mix'd ; nor slept the winds
58 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
Within their stony caves, but rush'd abroad
From the four hinges of the world, and fell
On the vext wilderness, whose tallest pines, .
Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks
Bow'd their stiff necks, loaden with stormy blasts,
Or torn up sheer—Ill wast Thou shrouded then,
O patient Son of God!
Book iv.
In these, and a thousand other instances
that might be produced, I believe every
man of sensibility will be conscious of a
variety of great or pleasing images passing
with rapidity in his imagination, beyond
what the scene or description immediately
before him can of themselves excite. They
seem often, indeed, to have but a very dis-
tant relation to the object that at first ex-
cited them; and the object itself appears
only to serve as a hint to awaken the ima-
gination, and to lead it through every ana-
logous idea that has place in the memory.
i It is then, indeed, in this powerless state of
reverie, when we are carried on by our con-
ceptions, not guiding them, that the deep-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 59
est emotions of beauty or sublimity are felt;
that our hearts swell with feelings which
language is too weak to express; and that,
in the depth of silence and astonishment,
we pay to the charm that enthrals us, the
most flattering mark of our applause.
“The power of such characters in Na-
“ture,” says Mr Whately (from whom I am
happy to borrow the following observations,
not only from the beauty of their expres-
sion, but from their singular coincidence
in the illustration of the fact I have been
endeavouring to establish), “the power of
“such characters is not confined to the
“ideas which the objects themselves imme-
“diately suggest; for these are connected
“with others, which insensibly lead to sub-
“jects far distant perhaps from the original
“ thought, and related to it only by simili-
“tude in the sensations they excite. In a
“prospect enriched and enlivened with in-
“ habitants and cultivation, the attention is
“caught first by the circumstances which
60 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
“are gayest in the season, the bloom of an
“ orchard, the festivity of a hay-field, and
“ the carols of a harvest-home; but the
“ cheerfulness which these infuse into the
“mind, expands afterwards to other objects
“ than those immediately presented to the
“eye; and we are thereby disposed to re-
“ceive, and delighted to pursue, a variety of
“pleasing ideas, and every benevolent feel-
“ing. At the sight of a ruin, reflections on
“the change, the decay, and the desolation
“before us naturally occur; and they intro-
“duce a long succession of others, all tinc-
“tured with that melancholy which these
“ have inspired; or if the monument revive
“the memory of former times, we do not
“stop at the simple fact which it records,
“but recollect many more coèval circum-
“stances which we see, not perhaps as
“they were, but as they are come down
“to us, venerable with age, and magnified
“by fame. Even without the assistance of
“buildings, or other adventitious circum-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 61
“stances, Nature alone furnishes materials
“for scenes which may be adapted to al-
“most every kind of expression. Their
“operation is general, and their consequen-
“ces infinite: the mind is elevated, de-
“pressed, or composed, as gaiety, gloom,
“or tranquillity prevail in the scene; and
“we soon lose sight of the mean by which
“ the character is formed. We forget the
“particular object it presents, and, giving
“way to their effects, without recurring to
“the cause, we follow the track they have
“begun, to any extent which the disposi-
“tions they accord with will allow. It
“suffices that the scenes of Nature have
“power to affect our imagination and our
“sensibility: for such is the constitution of
“the human mind, that if once it is agitat-
“ed, the emotion often spreads beyond the
“occasion: When the passions are roused, …
“ their course is unrestrained; when the fan-
“cy is on the wing, its flight is unbound-
“ed, and, quitting the inanimate objects
(; 2 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
“which first gave them their spring, we may
“ be led, by thought above thought, widely
“differing in degree, but still corresponding
“ in character, till we rise from familiar sub-
“jects to the sublimest conceptions, and
“are rapt in the contemplation of whatever
“is great or beautiful, which we see in na-
“ture, feel in man, or attribute to the Di-
“vinity.”—Page 154.
III.
The influence of such additional trains of
imagery, in increasing the Emotions of su-
blimity or beauty, might be illustrated from
many other circumstances equally familiar.
I am induced to mention only the follow-
ing; because it is one of the most striking
that I know, and because it is probable that
most men of education have at least in some
degree been conscious of it:—the influence,
I mean, of an acquaintance with Poetry in
our earlier years, in increasing our sensibili-
ty to the beauties of Nature.
OF SUB L * MIT Y AND BEAUTY. 63
The generality of mankind live in the
world, without receiving any kind of de-
light from the various scenes of beauty
which its order displays. The rising and
setting of the sun, the varying aspect of the
moon, the vicissitude of seasons, the revo-
lution of the planets, and all the stupendous
scenery that they produce, are to them only
common occurrences, like the ordinary
events of every day. They have been so
long familiar, that they cease to strike them
with any appearance either of magnificence
or beauty, and are regarded by them with
no other sentiments than as being useful
for the purposes of human life. We may
all remember a period in our lives, when
this was the state of our own minds; and
it is probable most men will recollect, that
the time when nature began to appear to
them in another view, was, when they were
engaged in the study of classical literature.
In most men, at least, the first appearance
of poetical imagination is at school, when
64 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS:
their imaginations begin to be warmed by the
descriptions of ancient poetry, and when
they have acquired a new sense, as it were,
with which they can behold the face of
Nature.
How different, from this period, become
the sentiments with which the scenery of
Nature is contemplated, by those who have
any imagination The beautiful forms of
ancient mythology, with which the fancy of
poets peopled every element, are now ready
to appear to their minds, upon the prospect
of every scene. The descriptions of ancient
authors, so long admired, and so deserving
of admiration, occur to them at every mo-
ment, and with them, all those enthusiastie
ideas of ancient genius and glory, which the
study of so many years of youth so natu-
rally leads them to form. Or, if the study
of modern poetry has succeeded to that of
the ancient, a thousand other beautiful as-
sociations are acquired, which, instead of
destroying, serve easily to unite with the
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 65
former, and to afford a new source of de-
light. The awful forms of Gothic supersti-
tion, the wild and romantic imagery, which
the turbulence of the middle ages, the Cru-
sades, and the institution of chivalry, have
spread over every country of Europe, arise
to the imagination in every scene; accom-
panied with all those pleasing recollections
of prowess, and adventure, and courteous
manners, which distinguished those memor-
able times. With such images in their
minds, it is not common nature that ap-
pears to surround them. It is nature em-
bellished and made sacred by the memory
of Theocritus and Virgil, and Milton and
Tasso; their genius seems still to linger
among the scenes which inspired it, and to
irradiate every object where it dwells; and
the creations of their fancy seem the fit in-
habitants of that nature, which their de-
scriptions have clothed with beauty.
Nor is it only in providing so many sour-"
ces of association, that the influence of an
VOL. I. G
66 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
acquaintance with poetry consists. It is
yet still more powerful in giving character
to the different appearances of nature; in
. connecting them with various emotions and
+ affections of our hearts; and in thus provid-
ing an almost inexhaustible source either of
solemn or cheerful meditation. What to
ordinary men is but common occurrence,
or common scenery, to those who have
such associations, is full of beauty. The
seasons of the year, which are marked only
by the generality of mankind by the dif-
ferent occupations or amusements they
bring, have each of them, to such men, pe-
culiar expressions, and awaken them to an
exercise $ either of pleasing or of awful
thought. The seasons of the day, which
are regarded only by the common specta-
tor as the call to labour, or to rest, are to
them characteristic either of cheerfulness or
solemnity, and connected with all the va-
rious emotions which these characters excite.
Even the familiar circumstances of general
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 67
nature, which pass unheeded by a common
eye, the cottage, the sheep-fold, the curfew,
all have expressions to them, because, in
the compositions to which they have been
accustomed, these all are associated with
peculiar characters, or rendered expressive
of them; and, leading them to the remem-
brance of such associations, enable them to
behold, with corresponding dispositions, the
scenes which are before them, and to feel,
from their prospect, the same powerful in-
fluence, which the eloquence of poetry has
ascribed to them.
Associations of this kind, when acquired
in early life, are seldom altogether lost; and
whatever inconveniences they may some-
times have with regard to the general cha-
racter, or however much they may be ridi-
culed by those who do not experience them,
they are yet productive, to those who pos-
sess them, of a perpetual and innocent de-
light. Nature herself is their friend; in
her most dreadful, as well as her most love-
G 2
68 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
ly scenes, they can discover something ei-
ther to elevate their imaginations, or to
move their hearts; and amid every change
of scenery, or of climate, can still find them-
selves among the early objects of their ad-
miration, or their love,
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 69
CHAPTER II.
Analysis of this Evercise of Imagination.
sEcT I on 1.
The illustrations in the preceding chapter N
seem to show, that whenever the emotions
of Sublimity or Beauty are felt, that exer-
cise of Imagination is produced, which con-
sists in the indulgence of a train of thought;
that when this exercise is prevented, these
emotions are unfelt or unperceived; and
that whatever tends to increase this exer-
cise of mind, tends in the same proportion
to increase these emotions. If these illus-
trations are just, it seems reasonable to con-
clude, that the effect produced upon the
mind, by objects of Sublimity and Beauty,
consists in the production of this exercise of,"
Imagination.
70 NATEJRE OF THE EMOTIONS
Although, however, this conclusion seems
to me both just and consonant to expe-
rience, yet it is in itself too general, to be
considered as a sufficient account of the na-
ture of that operation of mind which takes
place in the case of such Emotions. There
are many trains of ideas of which we are
conscious, which are unattended with any
kind of pleasure. There are other opera-
tions of mind, in which such trains of
thought are necessarily produced, without
exciting any similar emotion. Even in the
common hours of life, every man is con-
scious of a continued succession of thoughts
passing through his mind, suggested either
by the presence of external objects, or aris-
ing from the established laws of association;
such trains of thought, however, are seldom
attended with pleasure, and still seldomer
with an emotion, corresponding, in any de-
gree, to the emotions of sublimity or beau-
ty. .
There are, in like manner, many cases

OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 71
where objects excite a train of thought in
the mind, without exciting any emotion of
pleasure or delight. The prospect of the
house, for instance, where one has formerly
lived, excites very naturally a train of con-
ceptions in the mind; yet it is by no means
true that such an exercise of imagination
is necessarily accompanied with pleasure;
for these conceptions not only may be, but
very often are of a kind extremely indif.
ferent, and sometimes also simply painful,
The mention of an event in history, or of a
fact in science, naturally leads us to the
conception of a number of related events,
or similar facts; yet it is obvious, that, in
such a case, the exercise of mind which is
produced, if it is accompanied with any
pleasure at all, is in most cases accompani-
ed with a pleasure very different from that
which attends the emotions of sublimity or
beauty.
If therefore some train of thought, or
some exercise of Imagination is necessary
72 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
for the production of the emotions of Taste,
it is obvious that this is not every train of
thought of which we are capable. To as-
certain, therefore, with any precision, either
the nature or the causes of these emotions,
it is previously necessary to investigate the
nature of those trains of thought that are
produced by objects of sublimity and beau-
ty, and their difference from those ordinary
trains, which are unaccompanied with such
pleasure. * : *
As far as I am able to judge, this differ-
ence consists in two things. 1st, In the Na-
ture of the ideas or conceptions which com-
pose such trains: and, 2dly, In the Nature
or Law of their succession.
In our ordinary trains of thought, every
man must be conscious that the ideas which
compose them, are very frequently of a
kind which excite no emotions either of
pleasure or pain. There is an infinite va-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 73
riety of our ideas, as well as of our sensa-
tions, that may be termed indifferent, which
are perceived without any sentiment either
of pain or pleasure, and which pass as it
were before the mind, without making any
further impression than simply exciting the
consciousness of their existence. That such
ideas compose a great part, and perhaps
the greatest part of our ordinary trains of
thought, is apparent from the single con-
sideration, that such trains are seldom at-
tended with emotion of any kind.
The trains of thought which are suggest-
ed by external objects, are very frequently
of a similar kind. The greater part of such
objects are simply indifferent, or at least
are regarded as indifferent in our common
hours either of occupation or amusement:
the conceptions which they produce, by
the laws of association, partake of the na-
ture or character of the object which origi-
nally excited them; and the whole train
passes through our mind without leaving
74 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
>
W
;
A
$
but that every individual idea of such a
any further emotion, than perhaps that ge-
neral emotion of pleasure which accompa-
nies the exercise of our faculties. It is
scarcely possible for us to pass an hour of
our lives without experiencing some train
of thought of this kind, suggested by some
of the external objects which happen to
surround us. The indifference with which
such trains are either pursued or deserted,
is a sufficient evidence, that the ideas of
which they are composed, are in general of
a kind unfitted to produce any emotion, ei=
ther of pleasure or pain,
In the case of those trains of thought, on
the contrary, which are suggested by ob-
jects either of Sublimity or Beauty, I ap-
prehend it will be found, that they are in .
all cases composed of ideas capable of ex-
citing some affection or emotion; and that
not only the whole succession is accompa-
nied with that pecuilar emotion which we
call the emotion of Beauty or Sublimity,
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 75
succession is in itself productive, of some
simple Emotion or other. Thus the ideas
suggested by the scenery of Spring, are
ideas productive of emotions of Cheerful-
ness, of Gladness, and of Tenderness. The
images suggested by the prospect of ruins,
are images belonging to Pity, to Melan-
choly, and to Admiration. The ideas, in
the same manner, awakened by the view of
the ocean in a storm, are ideas of Power,
of Majesty, and of Terror. In every case
where the emotions of Taste are felt, I con-
ceive it will be found, that the train of
thought which is excited, is distinguished
by some character of emotion, and that it
is by this means distinguished from our
common or ordinary successions of thought.
To prevent a very tedious and unnecessary
circumlocution, such ideas may perhaps,
without any impropriety, be termed ideas
of Emotion: and I shall beg leave there-
fore to use the expression in this sense.
The first circumstance, then, which seems
76 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
to distinguish those trains of thought which
are produced by objects either of Sublimity
or Beauty, is, that the ideas or conceptions
of which they are composed, are ideas of
Emotion.
II.
In our ordinary trains of thought, there
seldom appears any general principle of
connexion among the ideas which com-
pose them. Each idea, indeed, is related,
by an established law of our nature, to that
which immediately preceded and that which
immediately follows it; but in the whole se-
ries there is no predominant relation or
bond of connexion. This want of general
connexion is, so strong, that even that most
general of all relations, the relation either
of pleasure or pain, is frequently violated.
Images both of the one kind and the other
succeed each other in the course of the
train; and when we put an end to it, we
are often at a loss to say, whether the whole
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 77
series was pleasant or painful. Of this irre-
gularity, I think every man will be convin-
ced, who chooses to attend to it.
In those trains, on the contrary, which
are suggested by objects of Sublimity or
Beauty, however slight the connexion be-
tween individual thoughts may be, I believe
it will be found, that there is always some
general principle of connexion which per-
vades the whole, and gives them some cer-
tain and definite character. They are ei-
ther gay, or pathetic, or melancholy, or so-
lemn, or awful, or elevating, &c. according
to the nature of the emotion which is first,
excited. Thus the prospect of a serene
evening in summer, produces first an emo-
tion of peacefulness and tranquillity, and
then suggests a variety of images corre-
sponding to this primary impression. The
sight of a torrent, or of a storm, in the same
manner, impresses us first with sentiments
of awe, or solemnity, or terror, and then
awakens in our minds a series of concep-
78 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
tions allied to this peculiar emotion. What-
ever may be the character of the original
emotion, the images which succeed seem all
to have a relation to this character; and if we
trace them back, we shall discover not only a
connexion between the individual thoughts
of the train, but also a general relation a-
mong the whole, and a conformity to that pe-
culiar emotion which first excited them.
The train of thought, therefore, which
takes place in the mind, upon the prospect
of objects of sublimity and beauty, may
be considered as consisting in a regular or
consistent train of ideas of emotion, and as
distinguished from our ordinary trains of
thought; 18t, In respect of the Nature of
the ideas of which it is composed, by their
being ideas productive of Emotion; and
2dly, In respect of their succession, by their
being distinguished by some general prin-
ciple of connexion, which subsists through
the whole extent of the train.
The truth of the account which I have
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 79
now given of the nature of that train of
thought which attends the emotions of sub-
limity and beauty, must undoubtedly at
last be determined by its conformity to ge-
neral experience and observation. There
are some considerations, however, of a very
obvious and familiar kind, which it may be
useful to suggest to the reader, for the pur-
pose of affording him a method of investi-
gating with accuracy the truth of this ac-
COunt. +.
If it is true that the ideas which com-
pose that train of thought which attends
the emotions of Taste, are uniformly ideas
of Emotion, then it ought in fact to be found,
that no objects or qualities are experienced
to be beautiful or sublime, but such as are
productive of some simple Emotion.
If it is true that such trains of thought
are uniformly distinguished by some gene-
ral principle of connexion, then it ought
also to be found, that no composition of
objects or qualities produces such emotions,
8O NATURE OF THE EMO'TIONS
in which this Unity of character or of emo-
| tion is not preserved.
I shall endeavour, at Some length, to
illustrate the truth of both these proposi-
tions.
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, 81
SECTION II.
THAT no objects, or qualities in objects,
are, in fact, felt either as beautiful or su-
blime, but such as are productive of some
simple Emotion, seems evident from the
following familiar considerations.
I.
Wherever the Emotions of Sublimity or
Beauty are felt, I believe it will be found,
that some affection is uniformly excited by
the presence of the object, before the more
complex Emotion of Beauty is felt; and
that if no such affection is excited, no Emo-
tion of Beauty or Sublimity is produced.
The truth of this observation may be illus-
trated, both from common language, and
common experience. *
1. If any man were to assert, that some
object, though positively indifferent or un-
WOL. I. H
S2 NATURE OF THE E MOTIONS
interesting, was yet beautiful or sublime,
every one would consider it as asserting an
absurdity. If, on the other hand, he were
to assert, that the object had neither beauty
nor sublimity to him, because there was no
quality in it which could give him any
emotion, I apprehend we should not only
clearly understand his meaning, but very
readily allow his reason; and if the object
were such as appeared to us in the light
either of Sublimity or Beauty, and we wish-
ed to make him sensible of it, the way that
we should naturally take, would be to point
out to him some affecting or interesting qua-
lity which we imagined he had overlooked,
and which we felt was the foundation of our
own emotion.
There is undoubtedly a very great differ-
ence between the Emotion of Taste, and
any Simple Emotion, as of Cheerfulness,
Tenderness, Melancholy, Solemnity, Eleva-
tion, Terror, &c. as such emotions are fre-
quently felt without any sentiment of Beauty
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 88
‘A
or Sublimity; but there is no case, I believe,
where the Emotions of Taste are felt, with-
out the previous production of some such
Simple Emotion. It is often indeed diffi-
cult to say, what is the quality in the object
which produces the Emotion of Beauty;
and it is sometimes difficult, in the case of
complex objects, when different qualities
unite in the production of Emotion, to de-
fine the exact nature of that Emotion which
we feel; but whether the general impression
we receive, is that of Gaiety, or Tenderness,
or Melancholy, or Solemnity, or Elevation,
or Terror, &c. we have never any diffi-
culty of determining; and so strong is our
conviction of the dependence of the Emo-
tions of Taste upon some such previous sim-
ple emotion, that whenever we endeavour
to explain the Beauty or Sublimity of any
object, we uniformly proceed by pointing
out the interesting or affecting quality in it,
which is fitted to produce this previous emo-
tion. It is not only impossible for us to ima-
H 2
84 NATURE OF THE E MOTIONS
gine an object of Taste, that is not an ob-
ject of Emotion; but it is impossible to de-
scribe any such object, without resting the
description upon that quality, or those qua-
lities in it, which are productive of Simple
Emotion.
2. Every man has had reason to observe
a difference in his sentiments, with regard
to the beauty of particular objects, from those
of other people; either in his considering
certain objects as beautiful, which did not
appear so to them, or in their considering &
certain objects as beautiful which did not
appear so to him. There is no instance of
this more common than in the case of airs
in music. In the first case of such a dif-
ference of opinion, we generally endeavour
to recollect, whether there is not some ac-
cidental association of pleasure which we
have with such objects, and which affords
us that delight which other people do not
share; and, it not unfrequently happens,
that we assign such associations as the
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUT Y. 85
cause of our pleasure, and as our apology
for differing from their opinion. In the
other case, we generally take it for granted,
that they who feel a beauty where we do
not, have some pleasing association with the
object in question, of which we are uncon-
scious, and which is accordingly productive
to them of that delight in which we are un-
able to share. In both cases, although we
may not discover what the particular associ-
ation is, we do not fail to suppose that some
such association exists which is the founda-
tion of the sentiment of beauty, and to con-
sider this difference of opinion as sufficient-
ly accounted for on such a supposition. This
very natural kind of reasoning could not, 1
*
f
think, take place, if we did not find from
experience, that those objects only are pro-" -
ductive of the Sentiment of Beauty, which
are capable of exciting emotion.
3. The different habits and occupations
of life produce a similar effect on the senti-
ments of mankind with regard to the ob-
y
86 NATURE OF THE EMOTION3
jects of Taste, by their tendency to confine
their sensibility to a certain class of objects,
and to render all others indifferent to them.
In our progress from infancy to manhood,
how much do our sentiments of beauty
change with our years how often, in the
course of this progress, do we look back with
contempt, or at least with wonder, upon the
tastes of our earlier days, and the objects
that gratified them and how uniformly, in
all this progress, do our opinions of Beauty
coincide with the prevalent Emotions of
our hearts, and with that change of sensi-
bility which the progress of life occasions !
As soon as any class of objects loses its im-
portance in our esteem, as soon as their pre-
sence ceases to bring us pleasure, or their
absence to give us pain, the beauty in which
our infant imagination arrayed them disap-
pears, and begins to irradiate another class
of objects, which we are willing to flatter
ourselves are more deserving of such senti-
ments, but which have often no other value,
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 87
than in their coincidence with those new
emotions that begin to swell in our breasts.
The little circle of infant beauty, contains
no other objects than those that can excite
the affections of the child. The wider
range which youth discovers, is still limited
by the same boundaries which Nature has
prescribed to the affections of youth. It is
only when we arrive at manhood, and still
more, when either the liberality of our edu-
cation, or the original capacity of our minds,
have led us to experience or to participate
in all the affections of our nature, that we
acquire that comprehensive taste, which can
enable us to discover, and to relish, every
species of Sublimity and Beauty.
It is easily observable, also, that besides
the natural progress of life, the habits of
thought which men acquire from the diver-
sity of their occupations, tend in the same
proportion to limit their sense of Beauty or
Sublimity, as they limit their emotions to
a particular character or kind. The loyer
88 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
reads or hears, with indifference, of all that
is most sublime in the history of ambition,
and wonders only at the folly of mankind,
who can sacrifice their ease, their comforts,
and all the best pleasures of life, to the
unsubstantial pursuit of power. The man,
whose life has been passed in the pursuits
of commerce, and who has learned to es-
timate every thing by its value in money,
laughs at the labours of the Philosopher or
the Poet, and beholds with indifference the
most splendid pursuits of life, if they are
not repaid by wealth. The anecdote of
a late celebrated Mathematician is well
known, who read the Paradise Lost, with-
out being able to discover in it any thing
that was sublime, but who said that he
could never read the queries at the end of
Newton's Optics, without feeling his hair
stand on end, and his blood run cold.
There are thousands who have read the old
ballad of Chevy Chase, without having
their imaginations inflamed with the ideas
OF SUBLIMIT Y. AN ID BEAUTY. 80
of military glory. It is the Brave only,
who, in the perusal of it, like the gallant
Sir Philip Sidney, feel “ their hearts moved
“as by the sound of a trumpet.”
The effect of such habits of mind upon
the sense of Beauty, may, in some degree,
be observed in all the different classes of
mankind; and there are probably few men,
who have not had occasion to remark how
much the diversity of tastes corresponds to
the diversity of occupations, and, even in
the most trifling things, how strongly the
sentiments of Beauty, in different men, are
expressive of their prevailing habits, or turn
of mind. It is only in the higher stations,
accordingly, or in the liberal professions of
life, that we expect to find men either of a
delicate or comprehensive taste. The infe-
rior situations of life, by contracting the know-
ledge and the affections of men within very
narrow limits, produce insensibly a similar
contraction in their notions of the beautiful
or the sublime. The finest natural taste is
90 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
seldom found able to withstand that narrow-
ness and insensibility of mind, which is per-
haps necessarily acquired by the minute and
uninteresting details of the mechanical arts;
and they who have been doomed, by their
professions, to pass their earlier years in
populous and commercial cities, and in the
narrow and selfish pursuits which prevail
there, soon lose that sensibility which is the
most natural of all,—the sensibility to the
beauties of the country; because they lose
all those sentiments of tenderness and in-
nocence, which are the foundation of much
the greater part of the associations we con-
nect with the scenery of Nature.
4. The difference of original character, or
the natural tendency of our minds to parti-
cular kinds of emotion, produces a similar
difference in our sentiments of Beauty, and
serves, in a very obvious manner, to limit
our taste to a certain class or character of ob-
jects. There are men, for instance, who, in
all the varieties of external nature, find no-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 91
thing beautiful but as it tends to awaken in
them a sentiment of sadness; who meet the
return of Spring with minds only prophetic
of its decay; and who follow the decline of
Autumn with no other remembrance than
that the beauties of the year are gone. There
are men, on the contrary, to whom every
appearance of Nature is beautiful, as awak-
ening a sentiment of gaiety;-to whom
Spring and Autumn alike are welcome, be-
cause they bring to them only different ima-
ges of joy;-and who, even in the most
desolate and wintry scenes, are yet able to
discover something in which their hearts
may rejoice. It is not, surely, that Nature
herself is different, that so different effects
are produced upon the imaginations of these
men; but it is because the original constitu-
tion of their minds has led them to different
habits of Emotion,--because their imagina-
tions seize only those expressions in nature
which are allied to their prevailing disposi-
tions,—and because every other appearance
|-
()2 NATURE OF THE EMIOTIONS
is indifferent to them, but those which fall in
with the peculiar sensibility of their hearts.
The gaiety of Nature alone, is beautiful to
the cheerful man; its melancholy, to the
man of sadness; because these alone are
the qualities which accord with the Emotions
they are accustomed to cherish, and in which
their imaginations delight to indulge.
The same observation is equally appli-
cable to the different tastes of men in Poetry,
and the rest of the fine arts; and the pro-
ductions that all men peculiarly admire, are
those which suit that peculiar strain of Emo-
tion, to which, from their original constitu-
tion, they are most strongly disposed. The
ardent and gallant mind sickens at the insi-
pidity of pastoral, and the languor of elegiac
poetry, and delights only in the great inter-
ests of the Tragic and the Epic Muse. The
tender and romantic peruse, with indiffer-
ence, the Iliad and the Paradise Lost, and
return with gladness to those favoured com-
positions, which are descriptive of the joys
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 93
or sorrows of Love. The gay and the fri-
volous, on the contrary, alike insensible to
the sentiments either of Tenderness or Mag-
nanimity, find their delight in that cold but
lively style of poetry, which has been pro-
duced by the gallantry of modern times,
and which, in its principal features, is so
strongly characteristic of the passion itself.
In general, those kinds of poetry only are
delightful, or awaken us to any very sensible
Emotions of Sublimity or Beauty, which
fall in with our peculiar habits of sentiment
or feeling; and if it rarely happens, that one
species of poetry is relished to the exclusion
of every other, it arises only from this, that
it is equally rare, that one species of Emo-
tion should have so completely the domi-
nion of the heart, as to exclude all Emotions
of any other kind. In proportion, however,
as our sensibility is weak, with regard to
any class of objects, it is observable, that
our sense of Sublimity or Beauty in such
objects, is weak in the same proportion;
94 NATURE OF THE EMOT tons
and wherever it happens (for it sometimes
does happen) that men, from their original
constitution, are incapable of any one species
of Emotion, I believe it will also be found,
that they are equally insensible to all the
Sublimity or Beauty which the rest of the
world find in the objects of such Emotion,
5. Besides the influence of permanent
habits of thought, or of the diversities of
original disposition upon our sentiments
of Beauty, every man must have had oc-
casion to observe, that the perception of
Beauty depends also on the temporary sen-
sibility of his mind; and that even objects
of the most experienced Beauty, fail in ex-
citing their usual delight, when they occur
to him in moments when he is under the
dominion of different emotions from those
with which he usually regards them. In
our seasons of gaiety, we behold with indif.
ference the same objects which delight our
imaginations when we are under the im-
pressions of tenderness or melancholy. In
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 95
our seasons of despondence, we turn, with
some kind of aversion, from the objects or
the reflections that enchant us in our hours
of gaiety. In the common hours of life, in
the same manner, when we are either busy
or unoccupied, and when our minds are free
from every kind of sensibility, the objects of
taste make but a feeble impression upon
us; and are either altogether neglected, or
tacitly reserved to another time, when we may
be more in the temper to enjoy them. The
husbandman who goes out to observe the
state of his grounds, the man of business who
walks forth to ruminate about his affairs, or
the philosopher, to reason or reflect, what-
ever their natural sensibilities may be, are,
at such times, insensible to every beauty that
the scenery of Nature may exhibit; nor do
they begin to feel them, until they withdraw
their attention from the particular objects of
their thought, and abandon themselves to
the emotions which such scenes may happen
to inspire.
96 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
There are even moments of listlessness
and languor, in which no objects of Taste
whatever can excite their usual delight, in
which our favourite landscapes, our favour-
ite airs, cease altogether to affect us; and
when sometimes we almost wonder what is
the secret spell that hangs over our minds,
and prevents us from enjoying the pleasures
that are within our reach. It is not that
the objects of such pleasures are changed;
it is not even that we have not the wish to
enjoy them—for this we frequently attempt,
and attempt in vain; but it is because we
come to them either with minds fatigued,
and with spirits below their usual tone, or
under the influence of other feelings than
are necessary for their enjoyment. When-
ever we return to that state of mind which
is favourable to such emotions, our delight
returns with it, and the objects of such plea-
sures becomes as favourite as before.
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, 97
II. r
It is further observable, that our sense of
the Beauty or Sublimity of every object de-
pends upon that quality, or those qualities
of it which we consider; and that objects
of the most acknowledged beauty cease to
affect us with such emotions, when we make
any of their indifferent or uninteresting
qualities the object of our consideration.
There is no production of Taste whatever,
which has not many qualities of a very in-
different kind; and there can be no doubt,
both that we have it in our power to make
any of these qualities the object of our at-
tention, and that we very often do so, with-
out regarding any of those qualities of emo-
tion, upon which its Beauty or its Sublimity
is founded. In such cases, I believe every
one has felt, that the effect upon his mind
corresponds to the quality he considers.
1. It is difficult, for instance, to enume-
rate the various qualities which may produce
W () L. I. I
98 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
the emotion of Beauty, in the statues of the
Venus de Medicis, or the Apollo Belvidere;
yet it is undoubtedly possible for any man
to see these masterpieces of statuary, and
yet feel no Emotion of Beauty. The deli-
cacy, the modesty, the timidity of the one—
the grace, the dignity, the majesty of the
other—and, in both, the inimitable art with
which these characters are expressed, are,
in general, the qualities which first impress
themselves upon the imagination of the
spectator; yet the man of the best taste
may afterwards see them, without thinking
of any such expressions. He may observe
their dimensions, he may study their pro-
portions, he may attend to the particular
state of their preservation, the history of
their discovery, or even the nature of the
marble of which they are made. All these
are as truly qualities of these statues, as
their majesty or their grace, and may cer-
tainly, at particular times, happen to engage
the attention of the man of the most refin-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 99
ed taste. That, in such cases, no Emotion
of Beauty would be feit, and that, before it
could be felt, it would be necessary for the
spectator to withdraw his mind from the
consideration of such unaffecting qualities,
is too obvious to require any illustration.
The same observation is applicable to
every other production of Taste. There is
no poem, no painting, no musical composi-
tion, however beautiful or sublime, that has
not many qualities or attributes, that are
altogether uninteresting, and which may
not be made the object of attention at par-
ticular times, although in general they are
left out of consideration. The Inversions
of Milton, the compound Epithets of Thom-
son, are as really qualities of their composi-
tions, as the sublimity of the one, or the
tenderness of the other. The person who
should make such qualities alone the ob-
ject of his attention, in the perusal of the
Seasons, or the Paradise Lost, though he
might certainly receive some instruction,
I 2
100 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
would doubtless receive little delight; and
if he were really capable of feeling the Su-
blimity or Beauty which distinguish these
compositions, it must be to other and more
affecting qualities of them that he must
turn his regard. While these minute and
unaffecting circumstances were the objects
of his attention, he could be conscious of
no greater emotion than what he might re-
ceive from the perusal of the most unani-
mated prose. It is in consequence of this,
that the exercise of Criticism never fails to
destroy, for the time, our sensibility to the
beauty of every composition, and that ha-
bits of this kind so generally end in destroy-
ing the sensibility of Taste. They accus-
tom us to consider every composition in re-
lation only to rules; they turn our atten-
tion from those qualities upon which their
effect is founded as objects of Taste, to the
consideration of the principles by which
this effect is attained; and instead of that
deep and enthusiastic delight which the
OF SUBLIMIITY AND BEAUTY. 101
perception of Beauty or Sublimity bestows,
they afford us at last no higher enjoyment,
than what arises from the observation of the
servile dexterity of Art.
2. The effect of Familiarity, which has
so often been observed, in diminishing our
sensibility to the objects of Taste, may serve
also as an illustration of the same principle.
This effect indeed is generally resolved into
the influence of habit, which in this, as in
every other case, is supposed to diminish
the strength of our emotions; yet, that it is
not solely to be ascribed to habit, seems
evident from the following consideration,
that such indifference is never permanent,
and that there are times when the most fa-
miliar objects awaken us to the fullest sense
of their beauty. The necessity which we
are under of considering all such objects
when familiar, in very different aspects from
those in which they appear to us as objects
of Beauty, and of attending only to their
unaffecting qualities, may perhaps better
FO2 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
account both for this gradual decay of our
sensibility, and for its temporary returns.
When a man of any taste, for instance,
first settles in a romantic country, he is will-
ing to flatter himself that he can never be
satiated with its beauties, and that in their
contemplation he shall continue to receive
the same exquisite delight. The aspect in
which he now sees them, is solely that in
which they are calculated to produce Emo-
tion. The streams are known to him only
by their gentleness or their majesty, the
woods by their solemnity, the rocks by
their awfulness or terror. In a very short
time, however, he is forced to consider them
in very different lights. They are useful to
him for some purposes, either of occupa-
tion or amusement. They serve as distinc-
tions of different properties, or of different
divisions of the country. They become
boundaries or land-marks, by which his
knowledge of the neighbourhood is ascer-
tained. It is with these qualities that he
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, 103
hears them usually spoken of by all who
surround him. It is in this light that he
must often speak and think of them him-
self. It is with these qualities, accordingly,
that he comes at last insensibly to consider.
them, in the common hours of his life.
Even a circumstance so trifling as the as-
signation of particular names, contributes
in a great degree to produce this effect;
because the use of such names, in marking
the particular situation or place of such ob-
jects, naturally leads him to consider the
objects themselves in no other light than
that of their place or situation. It is with
very different feelings that he must now re-
gard the objects that were once so full of
beauty. They now occur to his mind, on-
ly as topographical distinctions, and are
beheld with the indifference such qualities
naturally produce. Their majesty, their
solemnity, their terror, &c. are gradually
obscured, under the mass of unaffecting
qualities with which he is obliged to consi-
104 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
der them : and, excepting at those times
when either their appearances or their ex-
pressions are new, or when some other inci-
dent has awakened that tone or temper of
thought with which their expressions agree,
and when, of consequence, he is disposed to
consider them in the light of this expression
alone, he must be content at last to pass
his life without any perception of their
beauty.
It is on the same account that the great
and the opulent, become gradually so indif-
ferent to those articles of elegance or mag-
nificence with which they are surrounded,
and which are so effectual in exciting the
admiration of other men. The man of in-
ferior rank, whose situation prevents him
from all familiarity with such objects, sees
them in the light of their magnificence and
elegance alone; he sees them, too, as signs
of that happiness and refined pleasure,
which men in his condition so usually and
so falsely attribute to those of elevated
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 103.
rank; and he feels accordingly all that un-
mingled emotion of admiration which such
expressions are fitted to produce. But the
possessor must often see them in different
lights. Whatever may be their elegance or
their beauty, they still serve some end, or
answer some purpose of his establishment.
They are destined to some particular use,
or are ornaments of some particular place:
They are articles in the furniture of such a
room, or ingredients in the composition of
such a scene: They were designed by such
an artist, executed after such a model, or
cost such a sum of money. In such, or in
some other equally uninteresting light, he
must frequently be obliged both to speak
and to think of them. In proportion as the
habit of considering them in such a light
increases, his disposition, or his opportunity
to consider them as objects of Taste, dimi-
nishes. Their elegance or their magnifi-
cence gradually disappears, until at last he
comes to regard them (excepting at parti-
106 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
cular times) with no farther emotion, than
what he receives from the common furni.
ture of his house. The application of the
same observation to many more important
sources of our happiness, is too obvious to
require any illustration.
There is no man, in like manner, acquaint-
ed with the history or the literature of an-
tiquity, who has not felt his imagination
inflamed by the most trifling circumstances
connected with such periods. The names
of the Ilyssus, the Tiber, the Forum, the
Capitol, &c. have a kind of established
grandeur in our apprehensions, because the
only light in which we regard them, is that
of their relation to those past scenes of great-
ness. No man, however, is weak enough
to believe, that to the citizen of Athens, or
of Rome, such names were productive of
similar emotions. To him they undoubted-
ly conveyed no other ideas than those of
the particular divisions of the city in which
he dwelt, and were heard, of consequence,
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 107
with the same indifference that the citizen
of London now hears of the Strand, or the
Tower.
3. The influence of Fashion, in produc-
ing so frequent revolutions in the sentiments
of men, with regard to the beauty of those
objects to which it extends, and in dispos-
ing us to neglect or to despise at one time,
the objects which we considered as beauti-
ful before, may perhaps be explained upon
the same principle. Fashion may be con-
sidered in general as the custom of the
great. It is the dress, the furniture, the
language, the manners of the great world
which constitute what is called the Fashion
in each of these articles, and which the rest
of mankind are in such haste to adopt, after
their example. Whatever the real beauty
or propriety of these articles may be, it is
not in this light that weconsider them. They
are the signs of that elegance and taste, and
splendour, which is so liberally attributed
to elevated rank; they are associated with
103 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
the consequence which such situations be-
stow; and they establish a kind of exter-
nal distinction between this envied station,
and those humble and mortifying conditions
of life, to which no man is willing to belong.
It is in the light therefore of this connexion
only, that we are disposed to consider them;
and they accordingly affect us with the same
emotion of delight, which we receive from
the consideration of taste or elegance in
more permanent instances. As soon, how-
ever, as this association is destroyed, as soon
as the caprice or the inconstancy of the
great have introduced other usages in their
place, our opinion of their beauty is imme-
diately destroyed. The quality which was
formerly so pleasing or so interesting in
them, the quality which alone we consider-
ed, is now appropriated to other objects;
and our admiration readily transfers itself
to those newer forms, which have risen in-
to distinction from the same cause. The
forsaken Fashion, whatever may be its real
or suſ BLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 109
or intrinsic beauty, falls, for the present at
least, into neglect or contempt; because,
either our admiration of it was founded on-
ly upon that quality which it has lost, or be-
cause it has now descended to the inferior
ranks, and is of consequence associated with
ideas of meanness and vulgarity. A few
years bring round again the same Fashion.
The same association attends it, and our
admiration is renewed as before. It is on
the same account, that they who are most
liable to the seduction of Fashion, are peo-
ple on whose minds the slighter associations
have a strong effect. A plain man is inca–
pable of such associations; a man of sense
is above them . But the young and the fri-
volous, whose principles of Taste are either
unformed, or whose minds are unable tC)
maintain any settled opinions, are apt to
lose sight of every other quality in such ob-
jects but their relation to the practice of
the great, and of course, to suffer their sen-
timents of beauty to vary with the caprice.
110 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
of this practice. It is the same cause which
attaches the old to the fashions of their
youth. They are associated with the memo-
ry of their better days, with a thousand recol-
lections of happiness and gaiety, and heart-
felt pleasures, which they experience now no
more. The Fashions of modern times have
no such pleasing associations to them. They
are connected to them, only with ideas of
thoughtless gaiety, or childish caprice. It is
the Fashions of their youth alone, therefore,
that they consider as beautiful.
III.
It may further be observed, that the de-
sy pendence of Taste upon Sensibility, or the
necessity of some simple Emotion being ex-
cited, before the Beauty or Sublimity of any
object is perceived, is so far from being re-
mote from general observation, that it is the
foundation of some of the most common
judgments we form with regard to the cha-
racters of men.
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 111
1. When we are but slightly acquainted
with any person, and have had no oppor-
tunities of knowing the particular nature of
his sentiments or turn of mind, we never
venture to pronounce, or even to guess with
regard to his taste; and if, in such a stage
of our acquaintance, we find that his opi-
nions of Beauty are very different from our
own, we are so far from being surprised at
it, that we set ourselves very deliberately to
account for it, either by recalling to mind
those habits or occupations of his life which
may have led him to different kinds of emo-
tion, or by supposing that his natural sen-
sibility is very different from our own. On
the other hand, when we are well acquaint-
ed with any person, and know intimately
the particular turn or sensibility of his mind,
although we should never have happened to
know his sentiments of Sublimity or Beauty,
we yet venture very boldly to pronounce,
whether any particular class of objects will
affect him with such sentiments or not. The
112 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
foundation of our judgment, in such cases,
is the agreement or disagreement of such
objects, with the particular turn or charac-
ter of his affections; and if we are well
acquainted with the person, our judgment
is seldom wrong. In the same manner, al-
though we are altogether unacquainted with
any person, yet if we are informed of his
particular Taste, or of his favourite objects
of Beauty or Sublimity, we not only feel
ourselves disposed to conclude from thence,
with regard to his particular turn or cha-
racter of mind, but, if the instances are suf-
ficiently numerous, we in general conclude
right. It is scarcely possible for any man
to read the works of a Poet, without form-
ing some judgment of his character and
affections as a man; or without concluding,
that the magnanimity, the tenderness, the
gaiety, or the melancholy, which distin-
gished him in private life, characterize the
scenes or descriptions of his works. I am
far from contending, that such judgments,
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 113
f
in general, are just; not only from the rash-
ness with which they so commonly are
formed, but still more in those cases where
we reason from any person's Taste, from
the impossibility of knowing whether this
Taste is genuine, or whether it is found-
ed upon some accidental associations. All
that I mean to conclude is, that such judg-
ments are a proof of the connexion between
Taste and Sensibility; and that they could
not be formed, unless we found from ex-
perience, that no qualities affect us with the
Pleasures of Taste, but such as are produc-
tive of some simple Emotion.
2. It is further to be observed, that the
sense of the dependence of the Emotions of
Sublimity or Beauty, upon the accidental
or temporary disposition of the mind, is al-
so very strongly expressed, both in common
conduct and in common conversation. To
a man under some present impression of
joy, we should not venture to appeal with
regard to the Beauty of any melancholy or
WOL. I. K
114 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
pathetic composition. To a man under
the dominion of sorrow, we should much
less presume to present even the most beau-
tiful composition, which contained only
images of joy. In both cases, we should
feel, that the compositions in question de-
manded different emotions from those that
the persons had in their power to bestow;
that while their present dispositions conti-
nued, there was no chance of the composi-
tion's being interesting to them; and if we
really wished to know their opinions, we
would naturally wait till we found them in
such a disposition as was favourable to the
emotions to which either of the composi-
tions was addressed.
When any poem, or painting, or scene
in nature peculiarly affects us, we are gene-
rally in haste to show it to some friend,
whose taste we know is similar to our own;
and our minds are not fully satiated with
its beauties, until we are able to unite with
our own peculiar emotion, that pleasing
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 115
surprise which we participate with one to
whom it is new, and that sentiment of glad-
ness which it is so natural to feel, when we
find that we have been able to communi-
cate delight. It sometimes happens, how-
ever, that the person to whom we show it
does not feel the pleasure we expected. In
such a case, though we are a little surprised,
we are not much disappointed. We tell
him, that he happens not to be in the hu-
mour to be pleased; that at another time we
are sure he will feel its beauty; and though
we should not happen to know what is the
peculiar cause of his indifference, we yet
satisfy ourselves, that there is some cause
which prevents him from the indulgence of
the particular emotion which the scene or
the composition demands, and which we
know he is in general disposed to indulge.
It happens, accordingly, if we are really
well acquainted with the person, and if this
beauty is not founded upon some particular
association of our own, that our expecta-
K 2
116 NATURE OF THE E MOTIONS
tion is gratified, and that, when he returns
to his ordinary temper of mind, he becomes
sensible to all the beauty or sublimity which
we had found in it. Many other instances
of the same kind might be produccd. In
all cases, I think, where we discover in
other people a weaker sense with regard to
the beauty of particular objects than in our-
selves, and when we can recollect no acci-
dental association which may account for
the superiority of our own emotion, we are
naturally inclined to attribute it either to
some temporary occupation or embarrass-
ment of their minds when such objects were
presented to them; or, if we find that this was
not the case, to some original deficiency in
the sensibility of their hearts. To say that
a man has no feelings of tenderness or mag-
nanimity, accounts to us at once for his
want of sensibility to the beauty of any ac-
tions or species of composition, which are
founded on such emotions. In the same
manner, to say that at any particular time
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. I 17
he was under the dominion of opposite feel-
ings, as fully accounts to us for his insensi-
bility, at such a time, to the beauty of such
actions or compositions. I apprehend, that
these very natural and very common judg-
ments could not be formed, unless we found
from experience, that those qualities only
are felt as beautiful or sublime, which are
found to produce emotion.
IV.
The proposition which I have now en-
deavoured to illustrate, might be illustrated
from a variety of other considerations, and
particularly from the nature of the Fine
Arts. The objects of these Arts is to pro-
duce the Emotions of Taste; and it might
easily be shown,
1. That the only subjects that are in them-
selves proper for the imitation of these Arts,
are such as are productive of some species
of Simple Emotion:
2. That when these subjects are of a COIla
118 NAT tº RE OF THE E MOTIONS
trary kind, the method by which alone they
can be rendered either beautiful or sublime,
is by the addition of some interesting or af-
fecting quality:
3. That the extent, as well as the power
of the different fine arts, in producing such
emotions, is in proportion to the capacity
which they afford the artist of making such
additions; and that, in this respect, Poetry,
by employing the instrument of language,
by means of which it can express every
quality of mind as well as of body, has a
decided superiority over the rest of those
arts which are limited to the expression of
the qualities of body alone.
These considerations, however, besides
their being familiar to those who have re-
flected upon these subjects, would neces-
sarily lead to discussions far beyond the
limits of these Essays. The reader, who
would wish to see some of these principles
illustrated, will find it very fully and very
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, I 19
beautifully done in Dr Beattie's Essays up-
on Poetry and Music. -
If the preceding illustrations are just; if
it is found, that no qualities are felt, either
as beautiful or sublime, but such as accord
with the habitual or temporary sensibility
of our minds; that objects of the most ac-
knowledged beauty fail to excite their usual
emotions, when we regard them in the light
of any of their uninteresting or unaffecting
qualities; and that our common judgments
of the characters of men are founded upon
this experience,—it seems that there can be
no doubt of the truth of the proposition
itself, -
120 NATURE OF THE EMO'TIONS
SECTION III.
It is true, that those trains of thought
which attend the Emotions of Taste, are
uniformly distinguished by some general
principle of connexion, it ought to be
found, that no Composition of Objects or
gualities in fact produces such emotions, in
which this Unity of character or of emotion
is not preserved. This proposition also
may be illustrated from the most superficial
review of the Principles of Composition, in
the different arts of Taste. \ - | t| '))
\ )” / /
I. ºf
There is no man of common Taste, who
has not often lamented that confusion of
expression which so frequently takes place,
even in the most beautiful scenes of real
Nature, and which prevents him from in-
dulging to the full, the peculiar emotion
OF SUBLIMIT Y AND BEAUTY. 121
which the scene itself is fitted to inspire.
The cheerfulness of the morning is often
disturbed by circumstances of minute or la-
borious occupation,-the solemnity of noon
by noise and bustling industry, the tran-
quiility and melancholy of evening by viva-
city and vulgar gaiety. It is seldom even
that any unity of character is preserved
among the inanimate objects of Such scene-
ry. The sublimest situations are often dis-
figured by objects that we feel unworthy
of them,--by the traces of cultivation, or
attempts towards improvement, by the po-
verty of their woods, or of their streams,
or some other of their great constituent fea-
tures,--by appearances of uniformity or re-
gularity, that almost induce the idea of art.
The loveliest scenes, in the same manner,
are frequently disturbed by unaccording cir-
cumstances;–by the signs of cultivation—
the regularity of enclosures—the traces of
manufactures, and, what is worse than all,
by the presumptuous embellishments of fan-
*

122 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
tastic Taste. Amid this confusion of inci-
dents, the general character of the scene is
altogether lost; we scarcely know to what
class of objects to give our attention; and
having viewed it with astonishment, rather
than with delight, we at last busy ourselves
in imaginary improvements, and in conceiv-
ing what its beauty might be, if every fea-
ture were removed which now serves to in-
terrupt its expression, and to diminish its
effect.
What we thus attempt in imagination, it
is the business of the art of Gardening to
execute; and the great source of the su-
periority of its productions to the original
scenes in nature, consists in the purity and
harmony of its composition, in the power
which the artist enjoys, to remove from his
landscapes whatever is hostile to its effect,
or unsuited to its character, and, by select-
ing only such circumstances as accord with
the general expression of the scene, to
awaken an emotion more full, more simple,
*
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, 133
and more harmonious than any we can re-
ceive from the scenes of Nature itself.
It is by this rule, accordingly, that the
excellence of all such compositions is de-
termined. In real Nature, we often forgive,
or are willing to forget, slight inaccuracies
or trifling inconsistencies; but in such pro-
ductions of design, we expect and require
more perfect correspondence. Every ob-
ject that is not suited to the character of the
scene, or that has not an effect in strength-
ening the expression by which it is distin-
guished, we condemn as an intrusion, and
consider as a reproach upon the taste of the
artist. When this expectation, on the con-
trary, is fully gratified; when the circum-
stances of the scenery are all such as accord
with the peculiar emotion which the scene is
fitted to inspire; when the hand of the artist
disappears, and the embellishments of his
fancy press themselves upon our belief, as
the voluntary profusion of Nature, we im-
mediately pronounce that the composition
194, NATURE OF THE EMO'I' IONS
is perfect; we acknowledge that he has
attained the end of his art; and, in yielding
ourselves up to the emotion which his com-
position demands, we afford hin the most
convincing mark of our applause. In the
power which the art of gardening thus pos-
sesses, in common with the other fine arts,
of withdrawing from its imitations whatever
is inconsistent with their expression, and of
adding whatever may contribute to strength-
en, or to extend their effect, consists the
great superiority which it possesses over the
originals from which they are copied.
II.
The art of Landscape-painting is yet su-
perior in its effect, from the capacity which
the artist enjoys, of giving both greater ex-
tent and greater unity to his composition.
In the art of gardening, the great materials
of the scene are provided by Nature, and
the artist must satisfy himself with that de-
gree of expression which she has bestowed.
OF SUB I, IMITY AND BEAUTY. 125
In a landscape, on the contrary, the paint-
er has the choice of the circumstances he is
to represent, and can give whatever force
or extent he pleases to the expression he
wishes to convey. In gardening, the ma-
terials of the scene are few, and those few
unwieldy; and the artist must often con-
tent himself with the reflection, that he has
given the best disposition in his power to
the scanty and intractable materials of Na-
ture. In a landscape, on the contrary, the
whole range of scenery is before the eye of
the painter. He may select from a thou-
sand scenes, the circumstances which are
to characterize a single composition, and
may unite into one expression, the scatter-
ed features with which Nature has feebly
marked a thousand situations. The mo-
mentary effects of light or shade, the for-
tunate incidents which chance sometimes
throws in, to improve the expression of
real scenery, and which can never again be
recalled, he has it in his power to perpe-
126 NATURE OF THE EMOTION $
tuate upon his canvas: Above all, the oc-
cupations of men, so important in deter-
mining, or in heightening the characters of
Nature, and which are seldom compatible
with the scenes of gardening, fall easily
within the reach of his imitation, and afford
him the means of producing both greater
strength, and greater unity of expression,
than is to be found either in the rude, or in
the embellished state of real scenery.
While it is by the Invention of such
of the artist, it is by their Composition that
his Taste is uniformly determined. The
mere assemblage of picturesque incidents,
the most unimproved Taste will condemn.
Some general principle is universally de-
manded, some decided expression, to which
the meaning of the several parts may be
referred; and which, by affording us, as it
were, the key of the scene, may lead us
to feel, from the whole of the composition,
that full and undisturbed emotion which we
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY". 127
are prepared to indulge. It is this purity
and simplicity of composition, accordingly,
which has uniformly distinguished the great
masters of the art from the mere copiers of
Nature. It is by their adherence to it, that
their fame has been attained; and the names
of Salvator and Claude Lorraine can scarce-
ly be mentioned, without bringing to mind
the peculiar character of their compositions,
and the different emotions which their re-
presentations of Nature are destined to pro-
duce.
It is not, however, on our first acquaint-
ance with this art, that we either discover
its capacity, or feel its effects; and perhaps
the progress of Taste, in this respect, may
afford a further illustration of the great
and fundamental Principle of Composition.
What we first understand of painting is, that
it is a simple art of imitation; and what we
expect to find in it, is the representation
of the common scenes of Nature that sur-
round us. It is with some degree of sur-
128 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
|
prise, accordingly, that we at first observe
the different scenery with which the Painter
presents us, and with an emotion rather
of wonder, than of delight, that we gaze
at a style of landscape, which has so little
resemblance to the ordinary views to which
we are accustomed. In the copy of a real
scene, we can discover and admire the skill
of the artist; but in the representation of
desert or of desolate prospects, in appear-
ances of Solitude or Tempest, we perceive
no traces of imitation, and wonder only at
the perversity of Taste, which could have
led to the choice of so disagreeable sub-
jects.
As soon however as, from the progress
of our own sensibility, or from our acquaint-
ance with poetical composition, we begin
to connect expression with such views of
Nature, we begin also to understand and
to feel the beauties of landscape-painting,
It is with a different view that we now con-
sider it. It is not for imitation we look,
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 129
but for character. It is not the art, but the
genius of the Painter, which now gives va-
lue to his compositions: and the language
he employs is found not only to speak to
the eye, but to affect the imagination and
the heart. It is not now a simple copy
which we see, nor is our Emotion limited
to the cold pleasure which arises from the
perception of accurate Imitation. It is a
creation of Fancy with which the artist pre-
sents us, in which only the greater expres-
sions of Nature are retained, and where
more interesting emotions are awakened,
than those which we experience from the
usual tameness of common scenery. . In the
same proportion in which we thus discover
the expression of landscape, we begin to
collect the principles of its composition.
The crowd of incidents which used to dazzle
our earlier Taste, as expressive both of the
skill and of the invention of the artist, be-
gin to appear to us as inconsistence or con-
fusion. When our hearts are affected, we
WOL. I. L
I 30 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
seek only for objects congenial to our emo-
tion; and the Simplicity, which we used to
call the Poverty of landscape, begins now
to be welcome to us, as permitting us to in-
dulge, without interruption, those interesting
trains of thought which the character of
the scene is fitted to inspire. As our know-
ledge of the expressions of Nature increases,
our sensibility to the beauty or to the de-
fects of composition becomes more keen,
until at last our admiration attaches itself
only to those greater productions of the art,
in which one pure and unmingled charac-
ter is preserved, and in which no feature is
admitted, which may prevent it from falling
upon the heart with one full and harmo-
nious effect. *
In this manner, the object of Painting is
no sooner discovered, than the unity of ex-
pression is felt to be the great secret of its
power: The superiority which it at last as-
sumes over the scenery of Nature, is found
to arise, in one important respect, from the
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 181
greater purity and simplicity which its com-
position can attain; and perhaps this sim-
ple rule comprehends all that Criticism can
prescribe for the regulation of this delightful
art.
III.
But whatever may be the superiority of
Painting to the originals from which it is
copied, it is still limited, in comparison
of that which Poetry enjoys. The Painter
addresses himself to the Eye. The Poet
speaks to the Imagination. The Painter
can represent no other qualities of Nature,
but those which we discern by the sense of
sight. The Poet can blend with those, all
the qualities which we perceive by means
of our other senses. The Painter can seize
only one moment of existence, and can re-
present no other qualities of objects than
what this single moment affords. The
whole history of Nature is within the reach
of the Poet—the varying appearances which
L 2
132 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
its different productions assume in the pro-
gress of their growth and decay, and the
powerful effects which are produced by the
contrast of these different aspects or expres-
sions. The Painter can give to the objects
of his scenery, only the visible and material
qualities which are discerned by the eye,
and must leave the interpretation of their
expression to the imagination of the specta-
tor ; but the Poet can give direct expression
to whatever he describes. All the sublimity
and beauty of the moral and intellectual
world are at his disposal; and, by bestow-
ing on the inanimate objects of his scenery
the characters and affections of Mind, he
can produce at once an expression which
every capacity may understand, and every
heart may feel. Whatever may be the ad-
vantage which Painting enjoys, from the
greater clearness and precision of its images,
it is much more than balanced by the un-
bounded powers which the instrument of
language affords to the Poet, both in the
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. H33
Selection of the objects of his description,
and in the decision of their expression.
It is, accordingly, by the preservation of
Unity of character or expression, that the
excellence of poetical description is deter-
mined; and perhaps the Superior advantages
which the Poet enjoys, in the choice of his
materials, renders our demand for its obser-
vance more rigid, than in any of the other
arts of Taste. In real Nature, we willingly
accommodate ourselves to the ordinary de-
fects of scenery, and accept with gratitude
those singular aspects in which some pre-
dominant character is tolerably preserved.
In the compositions of Gardening, we make
allowances for the narrow limits within
which the invention of the artist is confined,
and are dissatisfied only when great inconsis-
tencies are retained. Even in Painting, we
are still mindful that it is the objects only
of one sense that the artist can represent;
and rather lament his restraints, than con-
demn his Taste, if our minds are not fully
134 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
impressed with the emotions he studies to
raise,_or if the different incidents of his
composition do not fully accord in the de-
gree, as well as in the nature of their ex-
pression. But the descriptions of the Poet
can claim no such indulgence. With the
capacity of blending in his composition the
objects of every sense—with the past and
the future, as well as the present, in his
power—above all, with the mighty spell of
mind at his command, with which he can
raise every object that he touches into life
and sentiment—we feel that he is unworthy
of his art, if our imaginations are not sa-
tiated with his composition, and if in the
chastity, as well as the power of his expres-
sion, he has not gratified the demand of our
hearts.
It would be an unpleasing, and indeed
an unnecessary task, to illustrate this ob-
servation by the defects or absurdities of
Poets of inferior genius, or imperfect taste.
It will perhaps be more useful, to produce
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 135
a few instances of description from some of
the greatest Poets, in which very trifling
circumstances serve to destroy, or at least
to diminish their effect, when they do not
fully coincide with the nature of the emo-
tion which the descriptions are intended to
raise. -
In that fine passage in the Second book
of the Georgics, in which Virgil celebrates
the praises of his native country, after these
fine lines,
Hic ver assiduum, atque alienis mensibus æstas;
Bis gravidæ pecudes, bis pomis utilis arbor.
At rabidæ tigres absunt, et sæva leonum
Semina ; nec miseros fallunt aconita legentis;
Nec rapit immensos orbis per humum, neque tanto
Squameus in spiram tractu se colligit anguis—
there is no reader whose enthusiasm is not
checked by the cold and prosaic line which
follows—
Adde tot egregias urbis, operumque laborem.
136 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
The tameness and vulgarity of the tran-
sition dissipates at once the emotion we
had shared with the Poet, and reduces him,
in our opinion, to the level of a mere de-
scriber. - -
The effect of the following nervous and
beautiful lines in the conclusion of the same
book, is nearly destroyed by a similar de-
fect. After these lines,
Hanc olim veteres vitam coluere Sabini;
Hanc Remus et frater: sic fortis Etruria crevit;
Scilicet et rerum facta est pulcherrima Roma—
we little expect the following spiritless con-
clusion—
Septemque una sibimuro circumdedit arces.
There is a still more surprising instance
of this fault in one of the most pathetic
passages of the whole poem, in the descrip-
tion of the disease among the cattle, which
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 137
&Y.
concludes the third Georgic. The passage
is as follows—
Ecce autem, duro fumans sub vomere, taurus
Concidit, et mixtum spumis vomit ore cruorem,
Extremosque ciet gemitus: it tristis arator,
Moerentem abjungens fraternâ morte juvencum;
Atque opere in medio defixa relinquit aratra.
The unhappy image in the second line is
less calculated to excite compassion than dis-
gust, and is singularly ill-suited to that tone
of tenderness and delicacy which the poet
has everywhere else so successfully main-
tained, in describing the progress of this
loathsome disease.
In the speech of Agamemnon to Idome-
neus, in the fourth book of the Iliad, a cir-
cumstance is introduced altogether inconsist-
ent both with the dignity of the speech, and
the majesty of Epic Poetry—
Divine Idomeneus! what thanks we owe
To worth like thine, what praise shall we bestow !
I38 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
To Thee the foremost honours are decreed,
First in the fight, and every graceful deed:
For this, in banquets, when the generous bowls
Restore our blood, and raise the warriors' souls,
Though all the rest with stated rules be bound,
Unmix'd, unmeasur'd are thy goblets crown'd.
Instances of the same defect may be found
in the comparison of the sudden cure of
Mars's wound to the coagulation of curds,-
in that of Ajax retreating before the Tro-
jans, to an ass driven by boys from a field
of corn—in the comparison of an obsti-
nate combat between the Greeks and the
Trojans, to the stubborn struggle between
two peasants about the limits of their re-
spective grounds,-in that of Ajax flying
from ship to ship to encounter the Trojans,
to a horseman riding several horses at once,
and showing his dexterity by vaulting from
*
one to another.
There is a similar fault in the two follow-
ing passages from Milton, where the intro-
duction of trifling and ludicrous circum-
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 189
stances diminishes the Beauty of the one,
and the Sublimity of the other.
Now Morm her rosy steps in the eastern clime
Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam wak'd: so custom'd, for his sleep
Was airy light, from pure digestion bred,
And temp'rate vapours bland, which th' only sound
Of leaves, and fuming rills, Aurora’s fan
Lightly dispers'd, and the shrill matin song
Of birds on every bough.
Book v.
They ended parle, and both address'd for fight
Unspeakable : for who, though with the tongue
Of angels, can relate, or to what things
Liken on earth conspicuous, that may lift
Human imagination to such height
Of godlike power? for likest gods they seem'd:
Stood they or mov’d, in stature, motion, arms,
Fit to decide the empire of great Heaven.
Now wav'd their fiery swords, and in the air
Made horrid circles: two broad suns their shields
Blaz'd opposite, while expectation stood
In horror: from each hand with speed retir’d,
Where erst was thickestJight, th' angelic throng,
And left large field, unsafe within the wind
Qf such commotion.
Book vi.
140 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
In the following passage from the sixth
book of Lucan's Pharsalia, where he de-
scribes the incantations of the witch Eryc-
tho, and of whose voice he had before said,
with great Sublimity,
Omne nefas superi prima jam voce precantis
Concedunt, carmenque timent audire secundum—
in labouring to increase the terror of the
reader, he has rendered his description al-
most ludicrous, by accumulating images
which serve only to confuse, and which in
themselves have scarcely any other relation
than that of mere noise—
Tunc vox Lethaeos cunctis pollentior herbis
Excantare Deos, confundit murmura primum
Dissona, et humana multum discordia linguæ.
Latratus habet illa canum, gemitumque luporum:
Quod trepidus bubo, quod strix nocturna queruntur,
Quod stridunt, ululantgue ferae, quod sibilat anguis,
Exprimit, et planctus illisae cautibus undae; -
Silvarumque sonum, fractaeque tonitrua nubis,
Tot rerum vox una fuit.—
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. T 41
Such a collection of unaccording images
is scarcely less absurd than the following
description of the Nightingale, by Marini—
Una voce pennuta, un suon' volante
E vestito di penne, un vivo fiato,
Una piuma canora, un canto alato,
Un spirituel che d' harmonia composto
Vive in anguste viscere mascosto.
Even less obvious inconsistencies are suſ.
ficient to diminish the effect of poetical de-
scription, when they do not perfectly coin-
cide with the general emotion.
There is a circumstance introduced in
the following passage from Horace, which
is liable to this censure—
Solvitur acris Hiems grata vice veris et Favoni,
Trahuntgue siccas machinae carinas:
Ac neque jam stabulis gaudet pecus, aut arator igni:
Nec prata canis albicant pruinis.
Jam Cytherea choros ducit Venus, imminente Luna;
Junctaeque Nymphis Gratiae decentes .
Alterno terram quatiunt pede.
142 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
The image contained in the second line is
obviously improper. It suggests ideas of
labour, and difficulty, and art, and has no
correspondence with that emotion of glad-
ness with which we behold the return of the
Spring, and which is so successfully main-
tained by the gay and pleasing imagery in
the rest of the passage.
In a description of the Morning, in the
exquisite poem of the Minstrel, there is a
circumstance to which the severity of Criti-
cism might object upon the same principle—
The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark,
Crown'd with her pail, the tripping milkmaid sings,
The whistling ploughman stalks afield, and, hark
Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings.
The image in the last line, though undoubt-
edly a striking one in itself, and very beau-
tifully described, is yet improper, as it is
inconsistent both with the period of society,
and the scenery of the country to which the
Minstrel refers.
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 143
There is a similar error in the following
fine description from Shakespeare—
The current, that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamelled stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage:
And so by many winding nooks he strays
With willing sport to the wild ocean.
The pleasing personification which we at-
tribute to a brook, is founded upon the faint
belief of voluntary motion, and is immediate-
ly checked, when the poet descends to any
minute or particular resemblance. **
Even in that inimitable description which
Virgil has given of a storm, in the first book
of the Georgics, a very accurate taste may
perhaps discover some slight deficiencies—
Sape etiam immensum coelo venit agmen aquarum,
Et foedam glomerant tempestatem imbribus atris
Collectae ex alto nubes. Ruit arduus aether,
Et pluvià ingenti sata lacta boumque labores
144, NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
Diluit ; implentur fossae, et cava flumina crescunt
Cum somitu; fervetgue fretis spirantibus aequor.
Ipse pater, media nimborum in nocte, coruscă
Fulmina molitur dexträ: quo maxima motu
Terra tremit; fugère ferae ; et mortalia corda
Per gentes humiles stravit pavor: ille flagranti
Aut Atho, aut Rhodopen, aut alta Ceraunia telo
Dejicit: ingeminant austri, et densissimus imber.
If there was any passage to which I
would object in these wonderful lines, it
would be to those that are marked in Italics.
I acknowledge, indeed, that the “pluvià in-
“genti sata laeta boumque labores diluit,” is
defensible from the connexion of the image-
ry with the subject of the poem; but the “im-
“ plentur fossae” is both an unnecessary and
a degrading circumstance, when compared
with the magnificent effects that are describ-
ed in the rest of the passage.
I shall conclude these illustrations with
two passages, descriptive of the same scene,
from different poets, in which the effects of
imperfect and of harmonious composition are
strikingly exemplified.
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, 145
In the “ Argonautica” of Apollonius
Rhodius, when Medea is described in a
state of deep agitation between her unwil-
lingness to betray her father, and her desire
to save her lover Jason, the anxiety of her
mind is expressed by the following contrast,
of which I give a literal translation—
“The night now covered the earth with
“her shade; and in the open sea the pi-
“lots, upon their decks, observed the star
“ of Orion. The travellers and the watch-
“men slumbered. Even the grief of mo-
“thers who had lost their children, was
“suspended by sleep. In the cities there
“ was neither heard the cry of dogs, nor
“ the noise nor murmur of men. Silence
“reigned in the midst of darkness. Medea
“alone knew not the charms of this peace-
“ful night, so deeply was her soul impress-
“ed with fears for Jason.”
Virgil describes a similar situation as
follows—
WOL. I. M
I46 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
Nox erat, et placidum carpebant fessa soporem
Corpora per terras, silvaeque et sava quierant
AEquora : quum medio volvuntur sidera lapsu;
Quum tacet omnis ager: pecudes, pictæque volucres,
Quæque lacus late liquidos, quasque aspera dumis
Rura tement, somno positae sub nocte silenti,
Lenibant curas, et corda oblita laborum.
At mon, infelix animi, Phoenissa.
“On voit ici" (says M. Marmontel,
with his usual taste and discernment), “non
“ seulement la superiorité du talent, la vie,
“et ſame repandues dans une poesie har-
“monieuse, et du coloris le plus pur, mais
“singulièrement encore la superiorité du
“goût. Dans la peinture du poete Grec, il
“y a des détails inutiles, il yen a des con-
“traires à l’effet du tableau. Les observa-
“tions des pilotes, dans le silence de la
“nuit, portent eux-mêmes le caractère de
“la vigilance et de l'inquietude, et ne con-
“trastent point avec le trouble de Medée.
“L'image d'une mere qui a perdu ses en-
“fants est faite pour distraire de celle d'une
“amante; elle en affoiblit l’intérêt, et le
OF SUBLIMITY AND BE AU TY. 147
* poëte en la lui opposant, est allé contre son
* dessein ; au lieu que, dans le tableau de
" Virgile, tout est réduit à l'unité. C'est la
* nature entière, dans le calme et dans le
* sommeil, tandis que la malheureuse Di-
* don veille seule, et se livré en proie à tous
* les tourments de l'amour. Enfin, dans le
* poëte Grec, le cri des chiens, le sommeil
* des portiers, sont des détails minutieux et
* indignes de l'epopée, au lieu que dans Vir-
* gile tout est noble et peint à grands traits :
* huit vers embrassent la nature. "-Ency-
clopedie, voc. IMITATION.
In these illustrations of the necessity of
unity of expression, for the production of
the Emotions of Sublimity and Beauty, I
have chiefly confined myself to such instan-
ces in poetry, as are descriptive of natural
scenery, because they are most within the
observation of that class of readers, to
whom any illustrations of this point are
necessary. The same principle extends,
with equal force, to every other branch of
M 2
148 NATURE OF THE EMoTIONS
poetical imitation, to the description of the
characters, the sentiments, and the passions
of men: And one great source of the supe-
riority which such imitations have over the
originals from which they are copied, con-
sists, in these cases as well as the former,
in the power which the artist enjoys, of
giving an unity of character to his descrip-
tions, which is not to be found in real Na-
ture. The illustration of this point, how-
ever, as well as of the general fact, that all
such descriptions are defective in which
this unity is not preserved, I must leave to
the reader's own observation. In the same
view, I leave the consideration of the ef-
fect of Contrast; a principle which may at
first seem adverse to these conclusions, but
which, in fact, is one of the strongest con-
firmations of them. The reader who is ac-
customed to such speculations, need not be
reminded, that the real end of Contrast is
to strengthen the effect of the general Emo-
tion,-that its propriety is determined by
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 149
the nature of that Emotion,-that it is justly
applied only in those cases where the Emo-
tion is violent and demands relief, or faint
and requires support, or long-continued
and needs repose, and that, in all cases
where it exceeds these limits, or where it
does not serve to invigorate the character
of the Composition, it serves only to ob-
struct or to diminish its effect; and the
reader to whom these principles are new,
may find amusement in verifying them.
y * , , ying Ur
IV.
The Unity of character which is thus
demanded in poetical description, for the
production of the Emotions of Taste, is de-
manded also in every species of poetical
Composition, whatever may be its extent.
In describing the events of life, it is the
business of the historian to represent them
as they really happened; to investigate
their causes, however minute; and to re-
port the motives of the actors, however
150 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
base or mean. In a poetical representation
of such events, no such confusion is per-
mitted to appear. A representation des-
tined by its nature to affect, must not only
be founded upon some great or interesting
subject, but, in the management of this sub-
ject, such means only must be employed
as are fitted to preserve, and to promote
the interest and the sympathy of the reader.
The Historian who should relate the voyage
of Æneas, and the foundation of Rome,
must of necessity relate many trifling and
uninteresting events, which could be valu-
able only from their being true. The poet
who should attempt this subject, must in-
troduce only pathetic or sublime events,
must unfold their connexion with greater
clearness, must point out their conse-
quences as of greater moment, and must
spread, over all, that tone and character of
dignity which we both expect and demand
in a composition, destined to excite the
; sensibility, and to awaken the admiration
G.F SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 151
of mankind. Even that species of poem
which has been called by the Critics the
Historical Epic, and which is only a poeti-
cal narration of real events, is yet in some
measure subjected to the same rule; and
though we do not expect from it the su-
blime machinery, or the artful conduct of
the real Epic, we yet demand a more uni-
form tone of elevation, and a purer and
more dignified selection of incidents, than
from the strict narrative of real history. In
both, the Poet assumes the character of a
person deeply impressed with the magni-
tude or the interest of the story he relates.
To impress his reader with similar senti-
ments is the end and object of his work;
and he can no otherwise do this, than by
presenting to his mind only such incidents
as accord with these great emotions, by leav-
ing out whatever, in the real history of the
event, may be mean or uninteresting, and
by the invention of every circumstance that,
while it is consistent with probability, may
152 NATURE OF THE EMotions
raise the subject of his work into greater
importance in his esteem. That it is by
this rule accordingly the conduct of the
Epic Poem is determined, is too obvious
to require any illustration.
The same unity of emotion is demanded
in Dramatic Poetry, at least in the highest
and noblest species of it, Tragedy; and in
the conduct of the Drama, this unity of
character is fully as essential as any of those
three unities, of which every book of Criti-
cism is so full. If it is painful to us, when
we are deeply engaged in some great inter-
est, to turn our minds to the consideration
of some other event, it is fully as painful
to us, in the midst of our admiration or our
sympathy, and while our hearts are swelling
with tender or with elevated emotions, to
descend to the consideration of minute, or
mean, or unimportant incidents, however
naturally they may be connected with the
story, or however much we may be con-
vinced that they actually took place. The
of subliMITY AND BEAUTY. R53
envy which Elizabeth entertained of the
beauty of Mary of Scotland, was certainly
one cause, and probably a great cause, of
the distresses of that most unfortunate
Queen; but if a Poet, in a tragedy founded
upon her pathetic story, should introduce
the scene which Melville describes in his
Memoirs, and in which the weakness of
Elizabeth is so apparent, we should consi-
der it both as degrading to the dignity of
Tragedy, and unsuited to the nature of the
emotion which the story is fitted to raise. *
It is hence that Tragi-Comedy is utterly in- |
defensible, after all that has been said in its
defence. If it is painful to us in such cases
to descend to the consideration of indiffer-
ent incidents, it is a thousand times more
painful to be forced to attend to those that
are ludicrous; and there is no man of the
most common sensibility, who does not feel
his mind revolt, and his indignation kindle
at the absurdity of the Poet, who can thus
break in upon the sacred retirement of his
154 NATU. RE OF THE EMOTIONS
sorrow, with the intolerable noise of vulgar
mirth. Had the taste of Shakespeare been
equal to his genius, or had his knowledge
of the laws of the Drama corresponded to
his knowledge of the human heart, the effect
of his compositions would not only have
been greater than it now is, but greater per-
haps than we can well imagine; and had he
attempted to produce, through a whole
composition, that powerful and uniform in-
terest which he can raise in a single scene,
nothing of that perfection would have been
wanting of which we may conceive this su-
blime art to be capable.
Of the necessity of this unity of Emo-
tion, Corneille is the first Tragedian of mo-
dern Europe who seems to have been sen-
sible; and I know not whether the faults of
this Poet have not been exaggerated by
English Critics, from their inattention to
the end which he seems to have prescribed
to himself in his works. To present a faith-
ful picture of human life, or of human pas-
OF SUBLl MITY AND BEAU'ſ Y. 155
sions, seems not to have been his concep-
tion of the intention of Tragedy. His ob-
ject, on the contrary, seems to have been,
to exalt and to elevate the imagination; to
awaken only the greatest and noblest pas-
sions of the human mind; and, by present-
ing such scenes and such events alone, as
could most powerfully promote this end, to
render the theatre a school of sublime in-
struction, rather than an imitation of com-
mon life. To effect this purpose, he was
early led to see the necessity, or disposed
by the greatness of his own mind to the
observation, of an uniform character of dig-
nity; to disregard whatever of common, of
trivial, or even of pathetic, in the originals
from which he copied, might serve to inter-
rupt this peculiar flow of emotion; and in-
stead of giving a simple copy of Nature, to
adorn the events he represented with all
that eloquence and poetry could afford. He
maintains, accordingly, in all his best plays,
amid much exaggeration, and much of the
156 NATURE OF THE EMO'TIONS
false eloquence of his time, a tone of com-
manding, and even of fascinating dignity,
which disposes us almost to believe, that we
are conversing with Beings of an higher order
than our own; and which blinds us, at least
for a time, to all the faults and all the im-
perfections of his composition. I am far
from being disposed to defend his opinions
of Tragedy, and still less to excuse his ex-
travagance and bombast; but I conceive,
that no person can feel his beauties, or do
justice to his merits, who does not regard
his tragedies in this view; and I think that
some allowance ought to be made for the
faults of a Poet, who first showed to his
country the example of regular Tragedy,
and whose works the great Prince of Condé
called “The Breviary of Kings.”
In the former Section, I have endeavour-
ed to show, that no objects are in themselves
fitted to produce the Emotions of Sublimi-
ty or Beauty, which are not productive of
some simple emotion. In this, I have at-
of SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 157
tempted to show, that no Composition of
objects or qualities is in fact productive of
such emotions, in which an Unity of Cha-
racter is not preserved. The slight illustra-
tions which I have now offered, are proba-
bly sufficient to point out the truth of the
general principle; but the application of it
to the different Arts of Taste, and the ex-
planation of the great rules of Composi-
tion from this constitution of our nature,
are objects far beyond the limits of these
Essays. I must satisfy myself, therefore,
with observing in general, that, in all the
Fine Arts, that Composition is most excel-
lent, in which the different parts most fully
unite in the production of one unmingled
Emotion; and that Taste the most perfect,
where the perception of this relation of ob-
jects, in point of expression, is most delicate
and precise. tº
158 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONs
C O N C I, U S I O N.
I.
THE illustrations in the first Chapter of
this Essay are intended to show, that when-
ever the Emotions of Beauty or Sublimity
are felt, that exercise of Imagination is pro-
duced which consists in the prosecution of a
train of thought.
The illustrations in the second Chapter
are intended to point out the distinction be-
tween such trains, and our ordinary trains
of thought, and to show, that this difference
consists, 1st, In the ideas which compose
them being in all cases Ideas of Emotion;
and, 2dly, In their possessing an uniform
principle of connexion through the whole
of the train. The effect, therefore, which
is produced upon the mind, by objects of
Taste, may be considered as consisting in
of subi. IMITY AND BEAUTY. 159
the production of a regular or consistent
train of Ideas of Emotion.
II.
The account which I have now given of
this effect, may perhaps serve to point out
an important distinction between the Emo-
tions of Taste, and all our different Emotions
of Simple Pleasure. In the case of these last
emotions, no additional train of thought is
necessary. The pleasurable feeling follows
immediately the presence of the object or
quality, and has no dependence upon any-
thing for its perfection, but the sound state
of the sense by which it is received. The
I'motions of Joy, Pity, Benevolence, Gra-
titude, Utility, Propriety, Novelty, &c.
might undoubtedly be felt, although we had
no such power of mind as that by which
we follow out a train of ideas, and certain-
ly are felt in a thousand cases, when this
faculty is unemployed.
In the case of the Emotions of Taste, on
160 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
the other hand, it seems evident that this
exercise of mind is necessary, and that un-
less this train of thought is produced, these
emotions are unfelt. Whatever may be the
nature of that simple emotion which any ob-
ject is fitted to excite, whether that of Gaiety,
Tranquillity, Melancholy, &c. if it produce
not a train of kindred thought in our
minds, we are conscious only of that simple
Emotion. Whenever, on the contrary, this
train of thought, or this exercise of imagi-
nation is produced, we are conscious of an
emotion of a higher and more pleasing
kind; and which, though it is impossible
to describe in language, we yet distinguish
by the name of the Emotion of Taste. If
accordingly the Author of our nature had
denied us this faculty of Imagination, it
should seem that these emotions could not
have been felt, and that all our emotions
would have been limited to those of simple
pleasure. - - -
The Emotions of Taste may therefore be
OF SUBI, IMITY AND BEAUTY. 161
considered as distinguished from the Emo-
tions of Simple Pleasure, by their being de-
pendent upon the exercise of our imagina-
tion; and, though founded in all cases upon
some simple Emotion, as yet further requir-
ing the employment of this faculty for their
existence.
III.
As in every operation of Taste there are
thus two different faculties employed, viz.
some affection or emotion raised, and the
imagination excited to a train of thought
corresponding to this emotion, the peculiar
pleasure which attends, and which consti-
tutes the Emotions of Taste, may naturally
be considered as composed of the pleasures
which separately attend the exercise of these
faculties, or, in other words, as produced by
the union of pleasing emotion, with the
pleasure which, by the constitution of our
nature, is annexed to the exercise of imagi- - -
nation. That both these pleasures are felt
VOL. I. N
}
162 NATURE OF THE E MOTIONS
in every operation of Taste, seems to me
very agreeable to common experience and
observation.
1. That in every case of the Emotions of
Sublimity or Beauty, that simple Emotion
of Pleasure is felt, which arises from the pe-
culiar nature of the object perceived, every
man, I conceive, may very easily satisfy
himself. In any beautiful object, whose
character is Cheerfulness, we are conscious
of a feeling of Cheerfulness, in objects of
Melancholy, of a feeling of Sadness, in
objects of Utility, of a feeling of Satisfac-
tion and Complacence, similar to what we
feel from objects of the same kind when the
Emotion of Beauty is not excited. In su-
blime objects, in the same manner, what-
ever their character may be, whether that
of Greatness, Terror, Power, &c. we are
conscious of the feelings of Admiration, of
Awe, of Humility, &c. and of the same
pleasures from the exercise of them, which
we feel in those cases where the Emotion
OF SUBI,IMITY AND BEAUTY. 163
of Sublimity is not produced. In the trains
of thought which are excited by objects
either of Sublimity or Beauty, every man
knows, that the character of those trains is
determined by the peculiar nature of the
object; and, instead of the Emotions of
Taste being attended with one uniform spe-
cies of pleasure, every man must have felt,
that the sum of his pleasure is in a great
degree composed of the peculiar pleasure
which the exercise of different affections
brings.
2. That there is a pleasure also annexed,
by the constitution of our nature, to the ex-
ercise of imagination, is a proposition which
seems to require very little illustration. In
common opinion, the employment of imagi-
nation is always supposed to communicate
delight; when we yield to its power, we
are considered as indulging in a secret
pleasure; and every superiority in the
strength or sensibility of this faculty is
believed to be attended with a similar
N 2
164 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
increase in the happiness of human life.
Nor is this persuasion of the connexion
of pleasure with the exercise of imagina-
tion, confined to those cases where the
mind is employed in contemplating only
images of joy: for even in those men whose
constitution disposes them to gloomy or
melancholy thought, we have still a belief
that there is some secret and fascinating
charm in the disposition which they indulge,
and that, in this operation of mind itself,
they find a pleasure which more than com-
pensates for all the pain which the charac-
ter of their thoughts may bring. There is a
state of mind, also, which every man must
have felt, when, without any particular Ob-
ject of meditation, the imagination seems to
retire from the realities of life, and to wan-
der amid a creation of its own; when the
most varied and discordant scenes rise as
by enchantment before the mind; and
when all the other faculties of our nature
seem gradually to be obscured, to give to
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 165
this creation of Fancy a more radiant glow.
With what delight such employments of
imagination are attended, the young and
the romantic can tell, to whom they are of-
ten more dear than all the real enjoyments
of life; and who, from the noise and tumult
of vulgar joy, often hasten to retire to soli-
tude and silence, where they may yield
with security to these illusions of Imagina-
tion, and indulge again their visionary bliss.
On a subject of this kind, however, when
illustration is perhaps less important than
description, I am happy to be able to tran-
scribe a passage, which will render unneces-
sary every illustration that 1 can give. It
is a passage from a posthumous work of
M. Rousseau, in which he describes his
mode of life, during a summer which he
passed in the island of St Pierre, in the
middle of the little lake of Bienne.
“Quand le beau tems m'invitoit, j'allois
“me jetter seul dans un bateau que je con-
“duisois au milieu du lac, quand l'eau
166 NAT U R E OF THE EMOTIONS
* étoit calme, et là, m'étendant tout de mon
* long dans le bateau, les yeux tournés vers
* le ciel, je me laissois aller et dériver len-
* tement au gré de l'eau, quelquefois pen-
" dant plusieurs heures, plongé dans mille
" rêveries confuses, mais délicieuses, et qui
" sans avoir aucun objet bien déterminé ni
* constant, ne laissoient pas d'être à mon
* gré cent fois préférables à tout ce que
* j'avois trouvé de plus doux dans ce qu'on
* appelle les plaisirs de la vie.
(C Quand le soir approchoit, je des-
* cendois des cimes de l'isle, et j'allois vo-
* lontiers m'asseoir au bord du lac, sur la
* grève dans quelque asyle caché ; là le
* bruit des vagues, et l'agitation de l'eau
* fixant mes sens, et chassant de mon ame
* toute autre agitation, la plongeoient dans
* une rêverie délicieuse, où la nuit me sur-
* prenoit souvent sans que je m'en fusse ap-
* perçu. Le flux et reflux de cette eau,
* son bruit continu, mais renflé par inter-
" valles, frappant sans relâche mon oreille
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAU'T'Y. 167
* et mes yeux, suppléoient aux mouvemens
( C. © A © A © © º
internes que la rêverie éteignoit en moi,
* et suffisoient pour me faire sentir avec
* plaisir mon éxistence, sans prendre la
* peine de penser.
6(. Tel est l'état où je me suis trouvé
* souvent à l'isle de St Pierre dans mes rê-
* veries solitaires, soit couché dans mon
* bateau que je laissois dériver au gré de
* l'eau, soit assis sur les rives du lac agité,
* soit ailleurs au bord d'une belle riviere,
* où d'un ruisseau murmurant sur le gra-
* vier. Telle est la manière dont j'ai pas-
* sé mon tems, durant le séjour que j'y ai
* fait. Qu'on me dise à present ce qu'il y
* a là d'assez attrayant pour exciter dans
* mon coeur des regrèts si vifs, si tendres,
* et si durables, qu'au bout de quinze ans il
* m'est impossible de songer à cette habita-
* tion cherie, sans m'y sentir à chaque fois
* transporter encore par les élans du de-
4º Sir. 2-
G6 J'ai pensé quelquefois assez pro-
l68 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
* fondement, mais rarement avec plaisir,
* presque toujours contre mon gré, et com-
* me par force ; la rêverie me délasse et
" m'amuse, la reflexion me fatigue et m'at-
* triste. Quelquefois mes rêveries finissent
* par meditation, mais plus souvent mes me-
* ditations finissent par le rêverie ; et durant
* ces égaremens mon ame erre et plâne
* dans l'univers sur les aîles de l'imagina-
* tion, dans des éxtases qui passent toute
* autre jouissance.
" Tant que je goutai celle-la dans toute
* sa pureté, toute autre occupation me fut
* toujours insipide. Mais quand une fois,
* jetté dans la carrière littéraire, par des im-
* pulsions étrangers, je sentis la fatigue du
* travail - d'esprit, et l'importunité d'une
* célebrité malheureuse, je sentis en même
* tems languir et s'attiédir mes douces rê-
* veries, et bientôt forcé de m'occuper
" malgré moi de ma triste situation, je ne
* pus plus retrouver, que bien rarement, ces
* cheres éxtases, qui durant cinquante ans
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 169
“m’avoient tenu lieu de fortune et de
“gloire; et sans autre dépense que celle du
“tems, m’avoient rendu dans l'oisieveté le
“plus heureux des mortels.”—Les Réveries,
Promenade 5. et 7.
If it is allowed, then, that there is a plea-
sure annexed, by the constitution of our
nature, to the Exercise of Imagination; and
if the illustrations in the first chapter are
just, which are intended to show, that when
this exercise of mind is not produced, the
Emotions of Taste are unfelt, and that
when it is increased, these Emotions are in-
creased with it, we seem to possess suf-
ficient evidence to conclude, that this Plea-
sure exists, and forms a part of that pecu-
liar pleasure which we receive from objects
of Sublimity and Beauty.
The pleasure, therefore, which accom-
panies the Emotions of Taste, may be con-
sidered not as a simple, but as a complex
pleasure; and as arising not from any se-
parate and peculiar Sense, but from the
170 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS
union of the pleasure of SIMPLE PMOTION,
with that which is annexed, by the consti-
tution of the human mind, to the Exercise
of IMAGINATION.
IV.
The distinction which thus appears to
subsist between the Emotions of Simple
Pleasure, and that complex pleasure which
accompanies the Emotions of Taste, seems
to require a similar distinction in philoso-
phical language. I believe, indeed, that
the distinction is actually to be found in
the common language of conversation; and
I apprehend that the term DELIGHT is very
generally used to express the peculiar plea-
sure which attends the Emotions of Taste,
in contradistinction to the general term
Pleasure, which is appropriated to Simple
Emotion. We are pleased, we say, with
the gratification of any appetite or affec-
tion,--with food when hungry, and with
rest when tired,—with the gratification of
OF SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY. 171
Curiosity, of Benevolence, or of Resent-
ment. But we say, we are delighted with
the prospect of a beautiful landscape, with
the sight of a fine statue, with hearing a pa-
thetic piece of music, with the perusal of a
celebrated poem. In these cases, the term
Delight is used to denote that pleasure
which arises from Sublimity and Beauty,
and to distinguish it from those simpler
pleasures which arise from objects that are
only agreeable. I acknowledge, indeed,
that this distinction is not very accurately
adhered to in common language, because,
in most cases, either of the terms equally
expresses our meaning; but I apprehend,
that the observation of it is sufficiently ge-
neral, to show some consciousness in man-
kind of a difference between these plea-
sures, and to justify such a distinction in
philosophical language as may express it.
If it were permitted me therefore, I should
wish to appropriate the term Delight, to
signify the peculiar pleasure which attends
172 NATURE OF THE EMOTIONs, &c.
the Emotions of TASTE, or which is felt,
when THE IMAGINATION Is EMPLOYED
IN THE PROSECUTION OF A REGULAR
TRAIN of IDEAS or EMOTION.
ESSAY II.
OF THE
SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
OF THE
MATERIAL WORLD.
ESSAY II.
OF THE SU B L I MITY AN D B E A U TY OF
T H E M A. T E R IAI, W OR L D.
CHAPTER I.
IN T R O D U C T OR Y.
IF the illustrations in the preceding Essay
are just, if that exercise of mind which takes
place when the Emotions of Beauty or Su-
blimity are felt consists in the prosecution of a *
regular train of Ideas of Emotion, and if no
other objects are in fact productive of the
Emotions of Taste, but such as are fitted to
produce some simple Emotion, there arises
a question of some difficulty, and of very
considerable importance, viz. What is the
170 SU BL IMI IT Y. A N D B F A U T Y
source of the SUBLIMITY and BEAUTY of
the MATERIAL World P
It cannot be doubted, that many objects
of the Material World are productive of the
Emotions of Sublimity and Beauty: some
of the fine arts are altogether employed
about material objects; and far the greater
part of the instances of Beauty or Sublimi-
ty which occur in every man's experience,
are found in matter, or in some of its qua-
lities.
On the other hand, I think it must be al-
lowed, that Matter in itself is unfitted to
produce any kind of emotion. The various
qualities of matter are known to us only by
means of our external senses; but all that
such powers of our nature convey, is Sen-
sation and Perception; and whoever will
take the trouble of attending to the effect
which such qualities, when simple and un-
associated, produce upon his mind, will be
satisfied, that in no case do they produce
Emotion, or the exercise of any of his
of THE MATERIAL world. 177
affections. The common language of man-
kind upon this subject, perfectly coincides
with this observation. Such qualities, when
simple, are always spoken of as producing
sensation, but in no case as producing emo-
tion; and although perhaps the general word
Feeling (as applied both to our external
and internal senses) may sometimes be used
ambiguously, yet if we attend to it, we
shall find, that, with regard to material qua-
lities, it is uniformly used to express Sen-
sation, and that, if we substitute Emotion
for it, every man will perceive the mistake.
The smell of a rose, the colour of scarlet,
the taste of a pine-apple, when spoken of
merely as qualities, and abstracted from the
objects in which they are found, are said to
produce agreeable Sensations, but not agree-
able Emotions. In the same manner, the
smell of assafoetida, or the taste of aloes,
when spoken of as abstract qualities, are
uniformly said to produce unpleasing Sen-
sations, but not unpleasing Emotions. If
VOL. I. o
178 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
we could conceive ourselves possessed only
of those powers which we have by means
of our external senses, I apprehend there
can be no doubt, that, in such a case, the
qualities of matter would produce only sen-
sation and perception: that such sensations
might be either pleasing or painful, but that
in no case could they be attended with any
emotion.
But although the qualities of matter are
in themselves incapable of producing emo-
tion, or the exercise of any affection, yet it
is obvious that they may produce this effect,
from their association with other qualities;
and as being either the signs or expression
of such qualities as are fitted by the consti-
tution of our nature to produce Emotion.
Thus, in the human body, particular forms
or colours are the signs of particular pas-
sions or affections. In works of art, par-
ticular forms are the signs of Dexterity,
of Taste, of Convenience, of Utility. In
the works of nature, particular sounds and
OF THE MATERIAL wo RLD. 170
colours, &c. are the signs of Peace, or Dan-
ger, or Plenty, or Desolation, &c. In such
cases, the constant connexion we discover
between the sign and the thing signified,
between the material quality and the qua-
lity productive of Emotion, renders at last
the one expressive to us of the other, and
very often disposes us to attribute to the sign,
that effect which is produced only by the qua-
lity signified.
That such associations are formed with
material qualities, every man has sufficient
evidence in his own experience; and there
are many causes which may be assigned,
both of the extent and of the universality of
such associations. I shall remark a few of
these, without pretending to an accurate enu-
meration.
1. All those external objects, which, from
their nature or constitution, are productive
to us, either of use, of convenience, or of
pleasure, or which in any other way are
O 2
180 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
fitted to produce Emotion, are known and
distinguished by their qualities of form and
colour. Such qualities, therefore, are natu-
% rally, and even necessarily expressive to us
of those uses, or conveniences, or pleasures.
It is by them that we become acquainted
with the subjects from which such utilities
arise; it is by them that we learn to distin-
guish such subjects from one another; and
as they are the permanent signs of these
several utilities, they affect us with the same
emotion which the utilities signified by them
are fitted to produce. The material quali-
ties, for instance, which distinguish a ship, a
plough, a printing-press, or a musical instru-
ment, do not solely afford us the percep-
tion of certain colours or forms, but, along
with this perception, bring with it the con-
ception of the different uses or pleasures
which such compositions of material qua-
lities produce, and excite in us the same
Emotion with the uses or pleasures thus
OF THE MATER IAI, WORLD. 181
signified. As, in this manner, the utilities or
pleasures of all external objects are express-
ed to us by their material signs of Colour
and of Form, such signs are naturally pro-
ductive of the Emotions which properly
arise from the qualities signified.
2. The qualities of Design, of Wisdom,
of Skill, are uniformly expressed to us by
certain qualities of Form, and certain com-
positions of Forms, Colours, and Sounds.
Such qualities, therefore, or compositions
of qualities, become the signs of Design, or
Wisdom, or Skill, and, like all other signs,
affect us with the same Emotion we receive
from the qualities signified.
3. All our knowledge of the minds of other
men, and of their various qualities, is gained
by means of material signs. Power, Strength,
Wisdom, Fortitude, Justice, Benevolence,
Magnanimity, Gentleness, Tenderness, Love,
&c. are all known to us by means of the
external signs of them in the Countenance, ºf
Gesture, or Voice. Such material signs are
182 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
therefore very early associated in our minds
with the qualities they signify; and as they
are constant and invariable, become soon
productive to us of the same Emotions with
the qualities themselves. f -
In the same manner, the Characters, the
Dispositions, the Instincts of all the various
tribes of animals, are known to us by cer-
tain signs in their frame, or voice, or gesture.
Such signs become therefore expressive to
us of these Characters, or Instincts, or Dispo-
sitions, and affect us with all the Emotions
which such qualities are fitted to produce.
4. Besides these immediate expressions
of qualities of Mind by material signs, there
are others which arise from Resemblance, in
which the qualities of matter become sig-
nificant to us of some affecting or interest-
ing quality of Mind. We learn from ex-
perience, that certain qualities of Mind are
signified by certain qualities of Body. When
we find similar qualities of body in inani-
mate Matter, we are apt to attribute to them
()F THE MATE RIAL WOR L D. 1S3
the same expression, and to conceive them
as signifying the same qualities in this case,
as in those cases where they derive their ex-
pression immediately from Mind. Thus,
Strength and Delicacy, Coldness and Modes-
ty, Old Age and Youth, &c. are all expressed
by particular material signs in the human
form, and in many cases by similar signs in
the forms of animals. When we find simi-
lar appearances in the forms of inanimate
Matter, we are disposed to consider them
as expressive of the same qualities, and to
regard them with similar Emotions. The
universality of such associations is evident
from the structure of the rudest languages.
The Strength of the Oak, the delicacy of
the Myrtle, the boldness of a Rock, the
modesty of the Violet, &c. are expressions
common in all languages, and so common,
that they are scarcely in any considered
as figurative; yet every man knows, that
Strength and Weakness, Boldness and Mo-
desty, are qualities, not of Matter, but of
184, sub LIMITY AND BEAUTY
Mind; and that, without our knowledge of
Mind, it is impossible that we should ever
have had any conception of them. How
much the effect of descriptions of natural
scenery arises from that personification which
is founded upon such associations, I believe
there is no man of common taste who must
not often have been sensible.
5. We are led by the constitution of our
nature, also, to perceive resemblances be-
tween our Sensations and Emotions, and of
consequence between the objects that pro-
duce them. Thus, there is some analogy
between the sensation of gradual Ascent,
and the Emotion of Ambition,-between
the sensation of gradual Descent, and the
Emotion of Decay,+between the lively
Sensation of Sunshine, and the cheerful
Emotion of Joy, between the painful Sen-
sation of darkness, and the dispiriting Emo-
tion of Sorrow. In the same manner, there
are analogies between Silence and Tranquil-
lity-between the lustre of Morning, and
OF THE MIATERIAL WORLD. 185
the gaiety of Hope, between softness of
Colouring, and gentleness of Character,
between slenderness of Form, and delicacy
of Mind, &c. The objects, therefore, which
produce such Sensations, though in them-
selves not the immediate signs of such in-
teresting or affecting qualities, yet, in con-
sequence of this resemblance, become gra-
dually expressive of them, and if not always,
yet at those times, at least, when we are
under the dominion of any Emotion, serve
to bring to our minds the images of all
those affecting or interesting qualities, which
we have been accustomed to suppose they
resemble. How extensive this source of
Association is, may easily be observed in
the extent of such kinds of figurative ex-
pression in every language. *
6. Besides these, Language itself is ano-
ther very important cause of the extent of
such Associations. The analogies between
the qualities of Matter, and the qualities of
Mind, which any individual might discover
186 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
or observe, might perhaps be few, and must
of course be limited by his situation and
circumstances; but the use of Language
gives, to every individual who employs it,
the possession of all the analogies which so
many ages have observed, between material
qualities, and qualities capable of produc-
ing Emotion. Of how much consequence
this is, may be discovered in the different
impressions which are made by the same
objects on the common people, whose vo-
cabulary is limited by their wants, and on
those who have had the advantage of a li-
beral education.
7. To all these sources of Association is
to be added, that which is peculiar to every
individual. There is no man, almost, who
has not, from accident, from the events of
his life, or from the nature of his studies,
connected agreeable or interesting Recol-
lections with particular Colours, or Sounds,
OT Forms, and to whom such sounds or
colours, &c. are not pleasing from such an
OF THE MATE RIAL WORLD. 187
Association. They affect us, in some mea-
sure, as the signs of these interesting quali-
ties, and, as in other cases, produce in us
the same Emotion with the qualities they
signify.
These observations are probably suffi-
cient to show the numerous and extensive
associations we have with Matter, and its
various qualities, as well as to illustrate
some of the means by which it becomes
significant or expressive to us of very differ-
ent, and far more interesting qualities than
those it possesses in itself. By means of
the Connexion, or Resemblance, which
subsists between the qualities of Matter,
and qualities capable of producing Emotion,
the perception of the one immediately, and
very often irresistibly, suggests the idea of
the other; and so early are these Associa-
tions formed, that it requires afterwards
some pains to separate this connexion, and
to prevent us from attributing to the Sign, r
*
188 SUBLIMIT Y AND BEAUTY
that effect which is produced alone by the
Quality signified.
Whatever may be the truth of these ob-
servations, it cannot at least be doubted,
that the Qualities of Matter are often asso-
ciated with others, and that they affect us
in such cases, like all other signs, by lead-
ing our imaginations to the qualities they
signify. It seems to be equally obvious,
that in all cases where Matter, or any of its
qualities, produces the Emotions of Subli-
mity or Beauty, this effect must arise either
from these material Qualities themselves;
from their being fitted by the constitution
of our nature to produce such Emotions;
or from some other qualities with which
they are associated, and of which they ope-
rate as the Signs or Expressions.
It should seem, therefore, that a very
simple, and a very obvious principle is suf-
ficient to guide our investigation into the
source of the sublimity and beauty of the
of THE M ATF RIAI, WoRLD, 189
qualities of Matter. If these qualities are s
in themselves fitted to produce the Emo-
tions of Sublimity or Beauty (or, in other
words, are in themselves beautiful or su-
blime), I think it is obvious that they must
produce these Emotions, independently of
any association. If, on the contrary, it is
found that these qualities only produce such
Emotions when they are associated with in-
teresting or affecting qualities, and that
when such associations are destroyed, they
no longer produce the same emotions, I
think it must also be allowed that their
Beauty or Sublimity is to be ascribed, not
to the material, but to the associated quali-
ties.
That this is in reality the case, I shall en-
deavour to show, by a great variety of illus- -
trations. It is necessary, however, for me
to premise, that I am very far from consi-
dering the Inquiries which follow, as a com-
plete examination of the subject. They are
indeed only detached observations on the
190 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY *
Sublimity and Beauty of some of the most
important classes of material qualities, but
which, however imperfect they may seve-
rally be, yet seem to possess considerable
weight from their collective evidence.
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 191
CHAPTER II.
Of the Sublimity and Beauty of Sound.
THE Senses by which we chiefly discover
Beauty or Sublimity in material objects, are
those of HEARING and SEEING.
The objects of the first are, Sounds,
whether SIMPLE or CoMPOSED.
The objects of the second are, CoLouits,
FoRMs, and MoTION.
192 SU BH. HM ITY AND BEAUTY
SECTION 1.
Of Simple Sounds.
I shall begin with considering some of
those instances, where simple sounds are
productive of the Emotions of Sublimity or
Beauty. Such sounds are capable of many
divisions. It may be sufficient, at present,
to consider them in the following order.
1. Sounds that occur in inanimate Na-
tlife.
2. The Notes of Animals. And,
3. The Tones of the Human Voice,
PART I.
Of Miscellaneous Sounds.
Of the first class, or of those Miscella-
neous Sounds that occur in inanimate Na-
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 193
ture, there are many which produce Emo-
tions of Sublimity and Beauty.
I.
1. All sounds in general are SUBLIME,
which are associated with Ideas of Danger;
the howling of a Storm, the murmuring of
an Earthquake, the Report of Artillery,
the Explosion of Thunder, &c.
2. All sounds are in general Sublime,
which are associated with Ideas of great
Power or Might; the Noise of a Torrent,
the Fall of a Cataract, the uproar of a
Tempest,-the Explosion of Gunpowder,
the Dashing of the Waves, &c. &
3. All sounds, in the same manner, are
Sublime, which are associated with Ideas of
Majesty or Solemnity, or deep Melancholy,
or any other strong Emotion; the Sound of
the Trumpet, and all other warlike instru-
ments, the Note of the Organ,—the Sound
of the Curfew, the Tolling of the passing
Bell, &c.
V(\L. I. P
º:-
194 subliMITY AND BEAUTY
That the Sublimity of such sounds arises
from the Ideas of Danger or Power, or Ma-
jesty, &c. which are associated with them,
and not from the Sounds themselves, or from
any original fitness in such sounds to produce
this Emotion, seems to be obvious from the
following considerations.
1. Such sounds, instead of having any
permanent or definite Character of Sublimi-
ty, vary in their effect with the qualities
they happen to express, and assume different
characters, according to the nature of these
qualities.
If sounds in themselves were Sublime, it
might reasonably be expected in this, as in
every other case of sense, that their differ-
ence of effect would be strictly proportion-
ed to their difference of character, and that
Sounds of the same kind or character would
invariably produce the same Emotion. The
following instances, however, seem to show,
that no specific character of Sublimity be-
longs to mere Sound, and that the same
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 195
Sounds may produce very different kinds of
Emotion, according to the qualities with
which we associate them. *
The Sound of Thunder is, perhaps of all
others in Nature, the most Sublime. In
the generality of mankind, this Sublimity is
founded on Awe, and some degree of Ter-
ror; yet how different is the Emotion
which it gives to the peasant who sees at
last, after a long drought, the consent of
Heaven to his prayers for rain, -—to the phi-
losopher, who, from the height of the Alps,
hears it roll beneath his feet,_to the sol-
dier, who, under the impression of ancient
superstition, welcomes it, upon the moment
of engagement, as the omen of victory ! In
all these cases, the Sound itself is the same:
but how different the nature of the Subli-
mity it produces ! The report of artillery
is Sublime, from the images both of Power
and of Danger we associate with it. The
noise of an engagement heard from a dis-
tance is dreadfully Sublime. The firing of
P 2
196 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
a Review is scarcely more than magnifi-
cent. The sound of a real skirmish between
a few hundred men, would be more su-
blime than all the noise of a feigned en-
gagement between a hundred thousand men.
The straggling fire of a company of soldiers
upon a field-day, is contemptible, and al-
ways excites laughter. The straggling fire
of the same number of men in a riot, would
be extremely sublime, and perhaps more
terrible than an uniform report.
The howling of a Tempest is powerfully
Sublime, from many associations; yet how
different to the inhabitant of the land, and
the sailor, who is far from refuge, -to the
inhabitant of the sheltered plain, and the
traveller bewildered in the mountains,—to
the poor man who has nothing to lose, and
the wealthy, whose fortunes are at the mer-
cy of the storm . In all these cases, the
Sound itself is the same, but the nature of
the Sublimity it produces is altogether dif-
ferent; and corresponds, not to the effect
of THE MATERIAL world. 197
upon the Organ of Hearing, but to the cha-
racter or situations of the men by whom it
is heard, and the different qualities of which
it is expressive to them.
The sound of a Cascade is almost always
Sublime; yet no man ever felt in it the
same species of Sublimity, in a fruitful
Plain, and in a wild and romantic COUl11-
try, -in the Pride of Summer, and in the
Desolation of Winter, in the hours of
Gaiety, or Tranquillity, or Elevation,-and
in seasons of Melancholy, or Anxiety, or
Despair. The sound of a Trumpet is often
Sublime; but how different the Sublimity
in the day of Battle, in the March of an
Army in Peace,—or amid the splendours of
a Procession . There are few single sounds
more sublime than the report of a Cannon;
yet every one must have felt the different
Emotions of Sublimity with which the same
sound affects him, and at the same intervals,
in moments of public Sorrow, or public
Rejoicing.
i
198 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
In these, and many other instances that
might be mentioned, the nature of the
Emotion we experience, corresponds, not
to the nature of the Sound itself, but to the
nature of the Association we connect with
it; and is in fact altogether the same with
the Emotion which the same quality pro-
duces, when unaccompanied with sound.
If sounds themselves were fitted by the
constitution of our nature to produce these
Emotions, it would seem that greater uni-
formity would be found in their effects;
that the difference of their effects would be
proportioned to the difference of their nature
as Sounds; and that the same Sounds would
permanently produce the same Emotion.
2. If any particular Sounds are fitted by
our constitution to produce the Emotion of
- Sublimity, it seems impossible that sounds
of a contrary kind should produce the same
Emotion. Hº, on the contrary, the Subli-
mity of Sounds arises from the qualities we
asssociate with them, it may reasonably be
OF E HE MATERIAL WORLD. 199
expected, that sounds of all kinds will pro-
duce this Emotion, when they are expres-
sive of such qualities as are in themselves
Sublime. Many very familiar observations
seem to illustrate this point.
The most general character, perhaps, of
Sublimity in Sounds, is that of Loudness,
and there are doubtless many instances
where such sounds are very constantly su-
blime; yet there are many instances also,
where the contrary quality of sounds is also
sublime; and when this happens, it will
universally be found, that such sounds are
associated with Ideas of Power or Danger,
or some other quality capable of exciting
strong Emotion. The loud and tumultuous
sound of a Storm is undoubtedly Sublime;
but there is a low and feeble sound which
frequently precedes it, more sublime in re-
ality than all the uproar of the storm itself,
and which has accordingly been frequently
made use of by Poets, in heightening their
descriptions of such scenes, --
200 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
Along the woods, along the moorish fens
Sighs the sad Genius of the coming storm,
And up among the loose disjointed cliffs
And fractur'd mountains wild, the brawling brook
And cave, presageful, send a hollow moan,
Resounding long in Fancy's listening ear.
Then comes the Father of the Tempest Forth, &c.
Thomson's Winter.
“Did you never observe” (says Mr Gray,
in a letter to a friend), “while rocking winds
“ are piping loud, that pause, as the gust
“is recollecting itself, and rising upon the
“ear in a shrill and plaintive note, like the
“swell of an AEolian Harp? I do assure
“you there is nothing in the world so like
“the voice of a spirit.” Such a sound in
itself is inconsiderable, and resembles many
others which are very far from being Su-
blime; but, as the forerunner of the storm,
and the sign of all the imagery we connect
with it, it is sublime in a very great degree.
There is, in the same manner, said to be
a low rumbling noise preceding an earth-
quake, in itself very inconsiderable, and ge-
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 201
nerally likened to some very contemptible
sounds; yet in such a situation, and with
all the images of danger and horror to
which it leads, I question whether there is
another sound so dreadfully sublime. The
soft and placid tone of the human voice
is surely not sublime; yet in the following
passage, which of the great images that
precede it is so powerfully so? It is a pas-
sage from the first book of Kings, in which
the Deity is described as appearing to the
Prophet Elijah. “And he said, Go forth,
“ and stand upon the mount before the
“Lord. And behold, the Lord passed by,
“ and a great and strong wind rent the
“mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks
“before the Lord ; but the Lord was not
“in the wind ; and after the wind an
“earthquake; but the Lord was not in
“the earthquake; and after the earthquake
“a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire:
“ and after the fire a still small voice. And
202 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
“it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he
2
“wrapped his face in his mantle.”
Another great division of Sounds is into
Grave and Acute. If either of these classes
of sound is sublime in itself, it should fol-
low, according to the general laws of Sen-
sation, that the other should not be so. In
fact, however, the Sublime is found in both ;
and perhaps it may be difficult to say to
which of them it most permanently belongs.
Instances of this kind are within the reach
of every person's observation.
In the same manner, it may be observed,
that the most common, and, in general, the
most insignificant Sounds become Sublime,
whenever they are associated with images
belonging to Power, or Danger, or Melan-
choly, or any other strong Emotion, al-
though in other cases they affect us with
no Emotion whatever. There is scarcely in
nature a more trifling Sound than the buzz
of Flies; yet I believe there is no man of
common Taste, who, in the deep silence of
OF THE MATERIA L WOR I. D. 2O3
a summer's noon, has not found something
strikingly Sublime in this inconsiderable
sound. The falling of a drop of water, pro-
duces in general a very insignificant and
unexpressive sound; yet sometimes in vaults,
and in large cathedrals, a single drop is
heard to fall at intervals, from the roof, than
which, I know not if there is a single sound
more strikingly Sublime. One can scarcely
mention a sound less productive of the Su-
blime, than the sound of a hammer. How
powerfully, however, in the following de-
scription, has Shakespeare made this vulgar
sound Sublime !
From camp to camp, thro' the foul womb of night,
The hum of either army stilly sounds,
That the fix’d sentinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other's watch.
Fire answers fire, and thro’ their paly flames
Each battle sees the other's umber'd face;
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the Night's dull ear; and from the tents
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
204 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.
Henry V. act iv. Chorus.
The sound of oars in water is surely very
far from being Sublime, yet in a Tragedy of
Thomson's, this sound is made strikingly
Sublime, when (in the person of a man who
had been left by the treachery of his compa-
nions upon a desert island), he describes the
horrors he felt, when he first found his be-
ing deserted : And adds,
I never heard
A sound so dismal as their parting oars.
Instances of the same kind are so numer-
ous, that it is unnecessary to insist upon
them. If Sounds are Sublime in them-
selves, independently of all Association, it
seems difficult to account for contrary
sounds producing the same effect, and for
the same sounds producing different effects,
of THE MATERIAL worD.D. Q05
according to the Associations with which
they are connected.
3. When such Associations are dissolved,
the sounds themselves cease to be Sublime.
There are many cases, undoubtedly, in
which this experiment cannot be made, be-
cause in many cases the connexion be-
tween such Sounds, and the qualities they
indicate, is constant and invariable. The
connexion between the sound of Thunder,
of a Whirlwind, of a Torrent, of an Earth-
quake, and the qualities of Power, or Dan-
ger, or Awfulness, which they signify, and
which the objects themselves permanently
involve, is established, not by Man, but by
Nature. It has no dependence upon his
Will, and cannot be affected by any disci-
pline of his Imagination. It is no wonder,
therefore, while such connexions are so
permanent, that the Sublimity which be-
longs to the qualities of the objects them-
selves, should be attributed to their exter-
nal signs, and that such signs should be
206 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
considered in themselves as fitted to pro-
duce this Emotion. The only case in which
these associations are positively dissolved,
is when, by some error of judgment, we ei-
ther mistake some different sound for the
Sound of any of these objects, or are im-
posed upon by some imitation of these
Sounds. In such cases, I think it will not
be denied, that when we discover our mis-
take, the Sounds are no longer Sublime.
There is nothing more common than for
people who are afraid of Thunder, to mis-
take some very common and indifferent
sound for it; as the rumbling of a Cart, or
the rattling of a Carriage. While their mis-
take continues, they feel the Sound as su-
blime: the moment they are undeceived,
they are the first to laugh at their error, and
to ridicule the sound which occasioned it.
Children at first are as much alarmed at the
Thunder of the Stage, as at real Thunder.
Whenever they find that it is only a decep-
tion, they amuse themselves with mimick-
of THE MATERIAL wor-LD. 207
ing it. It may be observed also, that very
young children show no symptoms of Fear
or Admiration at Thunder, unless perhaps
when it is painfully loud, or when they see
other people alarmed about them: obvious-
ly from their not having yet associated with
it the Idea of Danger; and perhaps also
from this cause, that our imagination assists
the report, and makes it appear much loud-
er than it really is: a circumstance which
seems to be confirmed by the common mis-
take we make of very inconsiderable noises
for it. Mistakes in the same manner are
often made in those countries where earth-
quakes are common, between very inconsi-
derable sounds, and that low rumbling
sound which is said to precede such an
event. There cannot be a doubt, that the
moment the mistake is discovered, the noise
ceases to be sublime. In all other cases of
the same kind, where mistakes of this na-
ture happen, or where we are deceived by
imitation, I believe it is agreeable to every
208 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
person's experience, that while the mistake
continues, the sounds affect us as sublime;
but that as soon as we are undeceived, and
that the sign is found not to be accompa-
nied with the qualities usually signified, it
ceases immediately to affect us with any
Emotion. If any sounds were in them-
selves Sublime, or fitted by the constitution
of our nature to produce this Emotion, in-
dependently of all Association, it would
seem that there could be no change of our
Emotion, and that"these sounds would as
permanently produce their correspondent
Emotion, as the objects of every other Sense
produce their correspondent ideas.
In all cases, however, where these asso-
ciations are either accidental or temporary,
and not, as in the former case, permanent
in their nature, it will be found that sounds
are sublime only, when they are expressive
of qualities capable of producing some
powerful Emotion, and that in all other
cases, the same sounds are simply indif-
oF THE MATERIAL world. 209
ferent. In some of the instances formerly
mentioned, where common or vulgar sounds
are rendered sublime by association, it is
obvious, that the same sounds in general,
when they have no such expression to us,
are very different from Sublimity. The
buzz of flies, the dropping of water, the
sound of a hammer, the dashing of an oar,
and many others which might easily be
mentioned, are, in general, Sounds absolute-
ly indifferent, and so far from possessing
any Sublimity in themselves, that it might
be difficult at first to persuade any man
that they could be made so. Their Subli-
mity therefore can only be attributed to the
qualities which they signify. - - -
There are few sounds, in the same manner,
much more sublime, than the striking of a
great clock at midnight. In other situations,
the very same sound is altogether different
in its expression. In the morning it is
cheerful,-at noon indifferent, or at least
unnoticed,—in the evening plaintive—at
WOL. I. Q -
&
210 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
night only sublime. In the tolling of a bell,
the sound is uniformly the same; yet such
a sound has very different expressions, from
the peculiar purposes to which it is applied.
The passing bell, and the funeral bell, alone
are sublime. The whistling of the wind in
an autumnal, or in a wintry night, is often
felt as sublime, and has accordingly been
frequently introduced into poetical descrip-
tions of a similar character. The nicest
ear, however, is unable to distinguish any
difference betwixt this sound, in the seasons
before mentioned, and in spring or summer,
when, if it has any character at all, it has
a character very different from Sublimity.
The Trumpet is very generally employed
in scenes of Magnificence or Solemnity.
The sound of the trumpet in such situations
is accordingly very sublime, and seems to
us to be expressive of that solemnity or
s magnificence. This instrument, however,
as every one knows, is very often degraded
to very mean offices. In such cases, the
of THE MATERIAL world, 211
sound is altogether indifferent, if not con-
temptible. The Bagpipe has, to a Scotch
Highlander, no inconsiderable degree of
sublimity, from its being the martial instru-
ment of the country, and of consequence
associated with many spirited and many
magnificent images. To the rest of the
world, the sound of this instrument is at
best but barely tolerable. They who are
acquainted with the history of superstition,
will recollect many instances where Sounds
have become sublime from this Association,
which to the rest of mankind were very in-
significant, and which have become also in-
significant both to Individuals and to Na-
tions, when the superstitions upon which
their expression was founded had ceased.
There are several other considerations,
from which the principle I here endeavour
to illustrate, might be confirmed,—the uni-
form connexion between Sublime Sounds,
and some quality capable of producing
Q 2
Q12 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
Emotion, and the impossibility of finding
an instance where Sound is Sublime, inde-
pendently of all Association,-the great dif-
ference in the number of sounds that are
sublime to the common people, and men
of cultivated or poetical imagination,-and
the difference which every man feels in the
effect of such sounds in producing this
Emotion, according to the particular state
of his own mind, or according to the parti-
cular strength or weakness of his sensibility
to the qualities which such sounds express.
But I am unwilling to anticipate the reader
in speculations which he can so easily pro-
secute for himself. If the illustrations I
have already offered are just; if Sounds
of all kinds are sublime, when they are
expressive of any qualities capable of pro-
ducing strong Emotions; and if no Sounds
continue to be sublime, when they cease to
be expressive of such qualities, it is, I think,
reasonable to conclude, that the Sublimity
of such Sounds is to be ascribed, not to the
OF THE MATE RIAL WORLD. 213
mere quality of Sound, but to those asso-
ciated qualities of which it is significant,
II. -
There is a great variety of sounds also,
that occur in the scenes of Nature, which
are productive of the Emotion of BEAUTY ;
the sound of a Waterfal, the Murmuring of
a Rivulet, the Whispering of the Wind, the
Sheepfold Bell, the sound of the Curfew,
&c. •. w
That such sounds are associated in our
minds, with various qualities capable of pro-
ducing Emotion, I think every man may
be satisfied from his own experience.
When such sounds occur, they are expres-
sive to us of some particular character:
they suit, one species of Emotion, and not
others; and if this were not obvious in it-
self, it might be made sufficiently obvious,
from the use of such sounds in poetical
Composition. Every man, there, judges of
the propriety of their introduction, and de-
214 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
termines with regard to the taste and judg-
ment of the Poet, by their suitableness to
the nature of the Emotion he has it in his
view to excite. Every man, therefore, has
some peculiar Emotion associated with such
sounds, or some quality, of which they are
considered as the signs or expressions.
That the Beauty of such sounds arises
from the qualities of which they are expres-
sive, and not from any original fitness in
them to produce this Emotion, may per-
haps be evident from the following consi-
derations.
1. To those who have no such associa-
tions, or who consider them simply as
Sounds, they have no beauty. It is long
before children show any degree of sensi-
bility to the beauty of such sounds. To the
greater number of them, in the same man-
ner, the common people are altogether in-
different. To the peasant, the Curfew is
only the mark of the hour of the evening,
the Sheep-bell, the sign of the neighbour-
of THE MATERIAL WORLD. 215
hood of the flock,-the sound of a Cascade,
the sign of the falling of water, &c. Give.
them the associations which men of cultivat-
ed imagination have with such sounds, and
they will infallibly feel their beauty.
In the same manner, men of the best
natural taste, who have not formed such
associations, are equally insensible to the
Beauty of such Sounds. The inhabitant of
a country where there are no waterfals, is
stunned at first with the noise of a Cascade,
but is not delighted with it. They who are
not accustomed to the Curfew, and who
are ignorant of its being the evening bell,
and, as such, associated with all those ima-
ges of tranquility and peace which render
that season of the day so charming, feel no-
thing more from its sound, than from the
sound of a bell at any other hour of the
day. The sound of the Sheepfold bell is
but an insignificant noise to those who
have never lived in a pastoral country, and
who do not consider it as expressive of
216 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUT Y
those images of simple and romantic plea-
sure, which are so naturally connected with
such scenes. Every man acquainted with
the poetry of distant nations, knows, in the
same manner, how much the beauty of many
allusions to peculiar sounds of these coun-
tries is lost to those who are strangers to
them, and who, of consequence, have none
of those associations which render them so
expressive to the natives. -
2. It is further observable, that such
Sounds are beautiful only in particular
tempers of mind, or when we are under the
influence of such Emotions as accord with
the expressions which they possess. If, on
the contrary, such Sounds were beautiful in
themselves, although in different states of
mind, we might afford them different de-
grees of attention; yet in all situations they
would be beautiful, in the same manner as
in every state of mind the objects of all
other senses uniformly produce their corre-
spondent ideas. The sound of the Curfew,
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 217
for instance, so beautiful in moments of me-
lancholy or tranquillity, in a joyful or even
in a cheerful hour, would be directly the re-
verse. The sound of a Waterfal, so valued
amid the luxuriant scenery of summer, is
scarcely observed, or, if observed, simply dis-
agreeable amid the rigours of winter. The
sound of the hunting Horn, so extremely
picturesque in seasons of gaiety, would be
insupportable in hours of melancholy.
It is at particular seasons only, in truth,
that we are sensible to the beauty of any
of the Sounds before mentioned. For once
that they affect us, they occur to us ten
times without effect. The real and the most
important business of life could not be car-
ried on, if we were to indulge at all times
our Sensibility either to Sublimity or Beauty.
It is only at those seasons, that such Sounds
affect us with any Emotions of Beauty,
when we happen to be in that temper of
mind, which suits with the qualities of which
they are expressive. In our common hours,
218 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
when we are either thoughtless or busy, we
suffer them to pass without notice. If such
sounds were beautiful in themselves, such
variations in their effects could not possibly
happen. .
3. When such associations are dissolved,
the sounds themselves cease to be beautiful.
If a man of the most common taste were
carried into any striking scene of an orna-
mented garden, and placed within the hear-
ing of a Cascade, and were told, in the
midst of his enthusiasm, that what he takes
for a Cascade is only a Deception, the
sound continues the same, but the beauty
of it would be irrecoverably gone. The
tinkling of the Sheepfold bell may be imi-
tated by many very common sounds; but
who is there who could for a moment listen
to any imitation of this romantic Sound?
There are a great number of sounds which
exactly resemble the sound of the hunting
Horn, and which are frequently heard also
in the same scenes: when known, however,
of I HE MATERIAL world. 219
some of them are ridiculous, none beautiful.
The same bell which is so strikingly beau-
tiful in the evening, is altogether unnoticed
at noon. “ The flute of a Shepherd” (says
Dr Beattie, with his usual beauty of ex-
pression) “heard at a distance, in a fine
“summer's day, amidst a romantic scene
“ of groves, hills, and waters, will give rap-
“ture to the ear of the wanderer; though
“the tune, the instrument, and the musi-
“cian be such as he could not endure in
“any other place.” Instances of a similar
kind are so numerous, that I forbear to
detail them. Upon the supposition of any
original and independent beauty in Sounds,
such variations are altogether unaccount-
able. -
I shall only further observe upon this
subject, that when it is considered, how few
Sounds are beautiful amid the infinite num-
ber which occur in the scenes of Nature,
and that wherever they do occur, there is
always some pleasing or interesting quality
220 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
of which they are expressive, there arises a
very strong presumption, independently of
all other considerations, that the Beauty of
such particular Sounds is derived from the
qualities which they express, and not the
effect of the mere sounds themselves,
P A R T II,
Of the Notes of Animals.
THERE are instances, I believe, both of
Sublimity and Beauty in the notes of Ani-
mals. That such Sounds are associated
with the qualities of the Animals to which
they belong, and become expressive of these
qualities, cannot, I think, be denied. There
are, besides, other associations we have with
them, from their Manner of Life, the Scenes
which they usually inhabit, and the Coun-
tries from which they come. -
ÖF THE MATERIAL WORLD, 221.
I.
That the Notes or Cries of some animals
are SUBLIME, every one knows: the Roar of
the Lion, the Growling of Bears, the Howl-
ing of Wolves, the scream of the Eagle, &c.
In all those cases, these are the notes of ani-
mals remarkable for their strength, and for-
midable for their ferocity. It would seem
very natural, therefore, that the Sublimity
of such Sounds should arise from the qua-
lities of which they are expressive; and
which are of a nature fitted to excite very
powerful Emotions in our minds.
That this is in reality the case, and that
it is not the Sounds themselves which have
this effect, appears to be obvious from the
two following considerations.
- 1. When we have no associations of this
kind, such sounds are productive of no such
Emotion. There is not one of these Sounds
which may not be imitated in some man-
ner or other; and which, while we are igno-
222 subliMITY AND BEAUTY
rant of the deception, does not produce the
same Emotion with the real Sound: when
we are undeceived, however, we are con-
scious of no other Emotion, but that per-
haps of simple pain from its loudness. The
howl of the Wolf is little distinguished from
the howl of the Dog, either in its tone or
in its strength; but there is no comparison
between their Sublimity. There are few, if
any, of these Sounds so loud as the most
common of all sounds, the lowing of a
Cow ; yet this is the very reverse of Subli-
mity. Imagine this Sound, on the contrary,
expressive of Fierceness or Strength, and
there can be no doubt that it would become
Sublime. The hooting of the Owl at mid-
night, or amid ruins, is strikingly Sublime.
The same Sound at noon, or during the day,
is trifling or ludicrous. The scream of
the Eagle is simply disagreeable, when the
bird is either tamed or confined; it is Su-
blime only, when it is heard amid Rocks
and Deserts, and when it is expressive to us
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 223
of Liberty and Independence, and Savage
Majesty. The neighing of a War-horse in
the field of battle, or of a young and un-
tamed Horse when at large among moun-
tains, is powerfully Sublime. The same
sound in a Cart-horse, or a Horse in the
stable, is simply indifferent, if not disagree-
able. No sound is more absolutely mean,
than the grunting of Swine. The same
Sound in the wild Boar, an animal remark-
able both for fierceness and strength, is
Sublime. The memory of the reader will
supply many other instances.
2. The Sublimity of such sounds cor-
responds not to their Nature, as sounds,
but to the Nature of the Qualities they
signify. Sounds of all kinds are Sublime,
in proportion as they are expressive of
Power, or Fierceness, or Strength, or any
other quality capable of producing strong
Emotions, in the animals which they dis-
tinguish. There are many instances, un-
doubtedly, where loud Cries are sublime;
224, subliMITY AND BEAUTY
but there are many also, where such Notes
are very far from being so. The lowing of
Cows, the braying of the Ass, the scream of
the Peacock, and many other inoffensive
birds, are only mean or disagreeable.
Low or feeble Sounds, in the same man-
ner, are generally considered as the contrary
of Sublime; yet there are also many in-
stances where such Sounds are strongly
Sublime—when they distinguish the notes
of fierce, or dangerous, or powerful animals.
There is not a Sound so generally con-
temptible as that which we distinguish by
the name of Hissing; yet this is the Sound
appropriated to Serpents, and the greater
part of poisonous reptiles—and, as such, is
extremely Sublime. The noise of the Rattle-
snake (that most dangerous animal of all
his tribe) is very little different from the
noise of a child's plaything, yet who will
deny its Sublimity! The growl of the Tiger
resembles the purring of a Cat: the one is
Sublime, the other insignificant. Nothing
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 225
can be more trifling than the Sound pro-
duced by that little animal, which among
the common people is called the Death-
watch; yet many a bold heart hath felt its
power. The inhabitants of modern Europe
would smile, if they were asked if there
were any Sublimity in the notes of Chick-
ens, or Swallows, or Magpies; yet, under
the influence of ancient superstition, when
such animals were considered as ominous,
the bravest among the people have trembled
at their Sound. The superstitions of other
countries afford innumerable instances of the
same kind.
If these illustrations are just, it should
seem, that the Sublimity of the Notes of
Animals is to be ascribed to the Associations
we connect with them, and not to any ori-
ginal fitness in the mere Sounds themselves
to produce this Emotion.
-. II.
That the BEAUTY of the Notes or Cries
VOL. I. R
226 SUBI, IMITY AND BEAUTY
of Animals arises from the same cause, or
from the qualities of which they are expres-
sive to us, may perhaps be obvious from
considerations equally familiar.
It seems at least very difficult to account
for the instances of such Sounds which are
universally reckoned beautiful, if we con-
sider the sounds themselves as the causes of
this emotion. The number of notes is as
various as the different species of animals;
and, amid these, there are a thousand in-
stances, where similar Sounds are by no
means productive of similar effects; and
where, although the difference to the Ear
is extremely small, there is yet a great dif-
ference in their capacity of producing such
Emotions. If, on the contrary, we consider
the source of their beauty as consisting in
the pleasing or affecting qualities with which
such sounds are associated, we have an easy
solution of the difficulty, and which will be
found at the same time perfectly to agree
with the facts.
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 227
It would lead to a very long, and very
unnecessary inquiry, if I were to attempt
to enumerate the various Notes of this kind
that are beautiful, and the different associa-
tions we have with them. That with many
such sounds we have in fact such associa-
tions, is a matter, I apprehend, so conform-
able to every man's experience, that it would
be superfluous to attempt to prove it.
There is indeed one class of animals, of
which the notes are in a singular degree ob-
jects of Beauty—I mean Birds; and for
this we may assign very sufficient reasons.
1st, Such notes approach much nearer than
any other, to the tones of the human voice,
and are therefore much more strongly ex-
pressive to us of such qualities as we are af.
fected by. 2dly, These animals are, much
more than any other, the objects of our in-
terest and regard; not only from our great-
er acquaintance with them, and from the
minuteness and delicacy of their forms,
which renders them in some measure the
R 2
228 SUj BLIMITY AND BEAUTY
objects of Tenderness; but chiefly from
their modes of life, and from the little
domestic arrangements and attachments
which we observe among them so much
more strongly than among any other ani-
mals, and which indicate more affecting
and endearing qualities in the animals them-
selves, than in any others we know. That
we have such associations with Birds, is
very obvious, from the use which is made
of their instincts and manner of life, in the
poetical compositions of all nations.
That it is from such associations the beau-
ty of the notes of animals arises, may ap-
pear from the following considerations.
1. They who have no such associations,
feel no Emotion of Beauty from them. A
peasant would laugh, if he were asked if
the call of a Goat, or the bleat of a Sheep,
or the lowing of a Cow, were beautiful; yet
in certain situations, all of these are undoubt-
edly so. A child shows no symptom of ad-
miration at those Sounds which are most af-
OF THE MATE RIAL WORLD. 220
fecting in natural scenery to other people.
Every one will recollect, in what total in-
difference his early years were passed, to
that multitude of beautiful Sounds which
occur in the country; and I believe, if we
attend to it sufficiently, it will be found, that
the period when we became sensible to their
beauty, was when we first began to feel
them as expressive, either from our own ob-
servation of Nature, or from the perusal of
books of poetry. In the same manner,
they who travel into very distant countries,
are at first insensible to the beauty which
the natives of those countries ascribe to the
notes of the animals belonging to them, ob-
viously from their not having yet acquired
the associations which are the foundation of
their beauty. The notes which are sacred
from any kind of superstition, are beautiful
only to those who are under the dominion
of that Superstition. A foreigner does not
distinguish any beauty in the note of the
Stork. To the Hollander, however, to whom
23() SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
that bird is the object of a very popular and
very pleasing superstition, this note is singu-
larly beautiful.
2. Such Sounds as are, either from expe-
rience or from imagination, associated with
certain qualities capable of producing Emo-
tion, are beautiful only when they are per-
ceived in those tempers of mind which are
favourable to these Emotions. Instances
of this are very numerous. The bleating of
a Lamb is beautiful in a fine day in spring:
in the depth of winter it is very far from be-
ing so. The lowing of a Cow at a distance,
amid the scenery of a pastoral landscape in
summer, is extremely beautiful: in a farm-
yard it is absolutely disagreeable. The hum
of the Beetle is beautiful in a fine summer
evening, as appearing to suit the stillness
and repose of that pleasing season: in the
noon of day it is perfectly indifferent. The
twitter of the Swallow is beautiful in the
morning, and seems to be expressive of the
cheerfulness of that time: at any other hour
OF THE MATER IAI, W ORLD. Q81
it is quite insignificant. Even the song of
the Nightingale, so wonderfully charming
in the twilight, or at night, is altogether dis-
regarded during the day; in so much so,
that it has given rise to the common mis-
take, that this bird does not sing but at
night. If such notes were beautiful in
themselves, independently of all associa-
tion, they would necessarily at all times be
beautiful.
3. In this, as in other cases before men-
tioned, when such associations are destroy-
ed, the Beauty of the Sounds ceases to be
felt. The call of a Goat, for instance, among
rocks, is strikingly beautiful, as expressing
wildness and independence. In a farm-
yard, or in a common enclosure, it is very
far from being so. The plaintive and inter-
esting bleat of the Lamb ceases to be beau-
tiful, whenever it ceases to be the sign of in-
fancy, and the call for that tenderness which
the infancy of all animals so naturally de-
mands. There is a bird that imitates the
232 SUB I, IMITY AND BEAUTY
notes of all other birds with great accura-
cy. Such imitations, however, are not in
the least beautiful in it. There are peo-
ple, in the same manner, who imitate the
song of birds with surprising dexterity. It
is the imitation, however, in such a case,
that alone pleases us, and not the notes
themselves. It is possible (according to
the curious experiments of Mr Barrington)
to teach a bird of any species the notes of
any other species. It may, however, I
think, very justly be doubted, whether the
acquired notes would be equally beautiful.
The connexion we observe between parti-
cular birds, and the peculiar scenes in Na-
ture which they inhabit, and the different
seasons at which they appear, and the
great difference in their instincts and man-
ner of life, render their notes expressive to
us of very dissimilar characters; and we
accordingly distinguish them by epithets ex-
pressive of this variety. The wildness of
the Linnet, the tenderness of the Redbreast,
of THE MATERIAL world. 233
the pertness of the Sparrow, the cheerfulness
of the Lark, the softness of the Bullfinch,
the plaintiveness of the Nightingale, the
melancholy of the Owl, are expressions in
general use; and the Associations we thus
connect with them, very obviously deter-
mine the character or expression of their
Notes. By the artificial education above
mentioned, all these Associations would be
destroyed; and, as far as I am able to
judge, all, or at least a great part of the
Beauty we feel from their songs. It is in
the same manner that we are generally un-
happy, instead of being delighted with the
song of a bird in the cage. It is somewhat
like the smile of Grief, which is much more
dreadful than tears, or like the playfulness
of an infant amid scenes of Sorrow. It is dif-
ficult therefore to say, whether in this cruel
practice there is a greater want of Taste or
of Humanity; and there could be in fact
no excuse for it, if there were not a kind of
tenderness excited towards them, from the
234, SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
reflection that they are altogether dependent
upon our benevolence, and a very natural gra-
titude awakened, by the exertions they make
for our pleasure.
I forbear to produce any further illustra-
tions on this subject. From those that have
been produced, it seems to me that we have
sufficient ground for concluding, that, of
those Sounds which have been considered,
the Sounds that occur in the scenes of Na-
ture, and the Sounds produced by animals,
the Sublimity or Beauty arises from the qua-
lities of which they are considered as the
Signs or Expressions, and not from any ori-
ginal fitness in the Sounds themselves to pro-
duce such Emotions.
I have only further to add, that, upon the
principle of the absolute and independent
Sublimity or Beauty of Sounds, it is very
difficult to account for the different Sounds
which have been mentioned as productive
of these Emotions. There is certainly no
resemblance as sounds, between the noise
OF THE MATER HAL WOR L D. 235
of Thunder and the hissing of a Serpent,
between the growling of a Tiger and the
explosion of Gunpowder, between the
scream of an Eagle, and the shouting of a
multitude; yet all of these are Sublime. In
the same manner, there is as little resem-
blance between the tinkling of the Sheep-
fold bell, and the murmuring of the Breeze,
—between the hum of the Beetle, and the
song of the Lark,+between the twitter of
the Swallow, and the Sound of the Curfew;
yet all of these are Beautiful. Upon the
principle which I endeavour to illustrate,
they are all perfectly accountable.
PART III.
Of the Tones of the Human Voice.
THERE is a similar Sublimity or Beauty
felt in particular Notes or Tones of the Hu-
man Voice.
That such Sounds are associated in our
236 suBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
Imaginations, with the qualities of mind of
which they are in general expressive, and
that they naturally produce in us the con-
ception of these qualities, is a fact so ob-
vious, that there is no man who must not
have observed it. There are some Philo-
sophers who consider these as the natural
signs of Passion or Affection, and who be-
lieve that it is not from Experience, but by
means of an original Faculty, that we in-
terpret them: and this opinion is supported
by great authorities. Whether this is so,
or not, in the present inquiry is of no very
great importance; since, although it should
be denied that we understand such signs
instinctively, it cannot be denied that, very
early in infancy, this Association is formed,
and that our opinions and conduct are re-
º, gulated by it.
That the Beauty or Sublimity of such
Tones arises from the nature of the quali-
ties they express, and not from the na-
ture of the Sounds themselves, may per-
OF THE MATERIAL WOR I.D. 237
haps appear from the following observa-
tions.
1. Such sounds are beautiful or sublime,
only as they express Passions or Affections
which excite our sympathy. There are a
great variety of tones in the human voice,
yet all these tones are not beautiful. If we
inquire what are the particular Tones which
are so, it will universally be found, that
they are such as are expressive of pleasing
or interesting affections. The tones peculiar
to Anger, Peevishness, Malice, Invy, Mis-
anthropy, Deceit, &c. are neither agreeable
nor beautiful. The tone of Good Nature,
though very agreeable, is not beautiful but
at particular seasons—because the quality
itself is in general rather the source of com-
placence than pleasure; we regret the want
of it, but we do not much enjoy its presence.
—On the contrary, the tones peculiar to
Hope, Joy, Humility, Gentleness, Modesty,
Melancholy, &c. though all extremely differ-
ent, are all beautiful; because the qualities
288 sub LIMITY AND BEAUTY
they express are all the objects of Interest
and Approbation. In the same manner, the
tones peculiar to Magnanimity, Fortitude,
Self-denial, Patience, Resignation, &c. are
all sublime; and for a similar reason. This
coincidence of the Beauty and Sublimity of
the Tones of the human Voice, with those
qualities of mind that are interesting or af.
fecting to us, if it is not a formal proof,
is yet a strong presumption, that it is from
the expression of such qualities that these
sounds derive their Sublimity or Beauty.
2. The effect of such sounds in produc-
ing these Emotions, instead of being per-
manent, is limited by the particular temper
of mind we happen to be in, or by the
coincidence between that temper, and the
peculiar qualities of which such sounds are
expressive. To most men, for instance, the
tone of Hope is beautiful. To a man in
Despair, I presume it would be far from
being so. To a man in Grief, the tone of
Cheerfulness is simply painful. The tone of
OF THE MATERIAL WOR.I.D. 230
Indignation, though in particular situations
strongly sublime, to a man of a quiet and
placid temper is unpleasant. To men of
an ardent and sanguine character, the tone
of Patience is contemptible. To peevish
and irritable spirits, the voice of Humility,
so peculiarly beautiful, is provoking. Such
observations may be extended to many di-
versities of passion: and it may still further
be remarked, that those Sounds in the hu-
man Voice, which are most beautiful or
most sublime to us, are always those that
are expressive of the qualities of mind
which, from our particular constitutions or
habits, we are most disposed to be affected
by. If the Beauty or Sublimity of such
tones were independent of the qualities of
mind we thus associate with them, such di-
versities could not happen; and the same
Sounds would produce uniformly the same
Emotions, as the same Colours or Smells
produce uniformly the same Sensations.
3. Similar Tones, in this case, do not
240 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
produce similar Emotions, as should seem
to happen if these effects were produced
by the mere Sounds themselves. There is
little affinity, for instance, between the low
and depressed tone of Grief, and the shrill
and piercing note of Joy; yet both are
beautiful. There is little resemblance be-
tween the loud sound of Rage, and the
low placid tone of Patience; yet both are,
in many cases, sublime. The tone of
Peevishness is not very different from the
tone of Melancholy; yet the one is beauti-
ful, the other positively disagreeable. The
tone of Pusillanimity is little distinguish-
able from the tone of Patience; but how dif-
ferent are the effects they produce upon our
minds !—Observations of this kind, it is in
the power of every one to extend.
4. Whenever these tones are counterfeit-
ed, or whenever they cease to be the Signs
of those qualities of mind of which we have
generally found them significant, they im-
mediately cease either to be sublime or
OF THE MATE RIAI, WORLD. 241
*
beautiful. Every one must have observed,
that this is the effect of Mimickry. Wher-
ever, in the same manner, any species of
deceit is used; or where we know that these
tones are employed, without the existence
of the corresponding passions, we no longer
feel them as beautiful or sublime. If the
Sounds themselves were the causes of these
Emotions, whatever we might think of the
person, the Sounds themselves would con-
tinue to produce the Emotions either of Sub-
limity or Beauty—in the same manner as
the most absurd misapplication of Colours,
never disturbs our perception of them as
colours.
5. There is yet a further consideration,
which may perhaps more clearly illustrate
this opinion, viz. That the Beauty or Sub-
limity of such Sounds in the human Voice,
altogether depends on our opinion of the
propriety or impropriety of the affections
which they express. We know, either from
Nature or from Experience, that particular
WOL. I. S
242 subliMITY AND BEAUTY
Sounds or Tones are the expression of parti-
cular Passions and Affections; and the per-
ception of such sounds is immediately ac-
companied with the belief of such affec-
tions in the person from whom they pro-
ceed. But it is only from actual observa-
tion or inquiry, that we can know what is
the cause of these affections. Our sym-
pathy, our interest, it is plain, depends on
the nature of this connexion,-on our opi-
nion of the propriety or impropriety of such
affections in such circumstances. All this,
however, does not in any degree affect the
nature of the Sound, which is still the same,
whether the affection be proper or improper.
It is very obvious, however, that our sense
of the Beauty or Sublimity of such Sounds,
depends on our opinion of this Propriety.
No tone of Passion or Affection is beauti-
ful, with which we do not sympathize. The
tone of Joy, for instance, is beautiful, in
most cases where it is heard. Suppose we
find, that such a Sound proceeds from some
of THE MATERIAL world. 243
very trifling or ridiculous cause, our sense of
its beauty is instantly destroyed with our
opinion of its Propriety. The tone of Me-
lancholy, or moderated Grief, is affecting
and beautiful beyond most others. Assign
some frivolous reason for it, and instantly
it becomes contemptible. The tone of Pa-
tience is sublime in a great degree. Tell us
that it is Pusillanimity, and its effect is in-
stantly gone. The high imperious note of
Rage is often sublime. A trifling cause
renders it simply painful. The same ob-
servation may be extended to the tones of
all our passions. It is, I conceive, extreme-
ly difficult, if not impossible, to account for
this change of Emotion, on the principle of
the original and independent Beauty of such
Sounds.
With regard to the Human Voice, how-
ever, it is to be observed, that besides all
this, there is also a Beauty in particular de-
grees of the same Tones. Although the ex-
pression of the different passions is the same
S 2
244 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
in all men, yet it necessarily happens, that
there is a sensible difference in the de-
gree or character of these similar Sounds.
There is no man of any delicacy of organs,
who must not often have been sensible of
such differences. These also are expressive
to us of several qualities. They are, in the
first place, expressive of the perfection or im-
perfection of the organs of speech, and of the
health or indisposition of the person; circum-
stances which often determine in a great de-
gree, when either of these expressions are.
strong, the pleasure or pain we have in their
conversation, 2dly, They are expressive also
of the temper or character of mind. As
we are naturally led to judge of the charac-
ter of the person, from the peculiar tones of
his voice, and to believe that such passions
have the principal dominion of his mind,
which have the most prevalent expression
in his Voice, so we are led in the same
way to judge of the degree or force of these
passions, by the degree or strength of such
of THE MATERIAL world. 245
tones in his voice. This kind of inference
is so natural, that there is perhaps no per-
son who has not made it. That the Beauty
of such chastened degrees of Sound arises
from such associations, is apparent; as it is
expressive to us of moderation and self-com-
mand,-as it expresses habit, more than im-
mediate impulse, as it is peculiar to such
tones only as are expressive of affecting pas-
sions or dispositions of mind,-as it is felt
alone by those who are affected by such dis-
positions,—and as it is beautiful only in those
cases where this temperance of Emotion, of
which it is the sign, is considered as pro-
per. I forbear therefore any further illus-
tration of it.
The observations which I have offered on
the subject of Simple Sounds, are perhaps
sufficient to show, that the Sublimity and
Beauty of these Sounds arises, in all cases
246 suBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
from the Qualities with which we have ob-
served them connected, and of which they
appear to us as the Signs or Expressions: and
that no Sounds in themselves are fitted by the
constitution of our nature to produce these
º Emotions. -
It is natural, however, to suppose, that in
this, as in every other case, our experience
should gradually lead to the formation of
some general rules with regard to this expres-
sion; and that different sounds should ap-
pear to us to have a difference of character,
according to the nature of the qualities with
which we most frequently find them conjoin-
ed. This supposition will appear more pro-
bable, when we consider, not only that the
diversities of sounds are few, and conse-
quently that rules of this kind can be more
easily formed; but still more, that these di-
versities of sounds are the immediate expres.
sions of different qualities of Mind in the hu-
man Voice, and consequently that their cha-
racter becomes more certain and definite.
§
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 247
I believe, in fact, that something of this
kind takes place early in life, and that, long
before we are able to attend to their forma-
tion, we have formed certain general asso-
ciations, with all the great diversities of
sound, and that, in after life, they continue
to be generally expressive of these charac-
terS.
To enumerate these general expressions,
is a very delicate, as well as a very difficult
task. I hazard, therefore, the following
observations, only as hints for the prosecu-
tion of the subject; and as I am sensible of
their imperfection, I am willing to rest no
conclusion upon them. -
The great divisions of Sound are into
Loud and Low, Grave and Acute, Long
and Short, Increasing and Diminishing.
The two first divisions are expressive in
themselves: the two last only in conjunction
with others.
1. Loud Sound is connected with Ideas
of Power and Danger. Many objects in
948 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
nature which have such qualities, are dis-
tinguished by such Sounds; and this asso-
ciation is further confirmed from the human
Voice, in which all violent and impetuous
passions are expressed in loud tones.
2. Low Sound has a contrary expres-
- sion, and is connected with ideas of Weak-
ness, Gentleness, and Delicacy. This as-
sociation takes its rise not only from the
observation of inanimate nature, or of ani-
mals, where, in a great number of cases,
such sounds distinguish objects with such
qualities, but particularly from the human
Voice, where all gentle, or delicate, or sor-
rowful affections, are expressed by such
tories. -
3. Grave Sound is connected with ideas
of Moderation, Dignity, Solemnity, &c.
principally, I believe, from all moderate, or
restrained, or chastened affections being
distinguished by such tones in the human
Voice. .
4. Acute Sound is expressive of Pain, or
of THE MATERIAL world. 249
Fear, or Surprise, &c. and generally oper-
ates by producing some degree of astonish-
ment. This association, also, seems princi-
pally to arise from our experience of such 3.
connexions in the human Voice.
5. Long or lengthened Sound seems to
me to have no expression in itself, but only,
to signify the continuance of that quality
which is signified by other qualities of
Sound. A loud or a low, a grave or an
acute Sound prolonged, expresses to us no
more than the continuance of the qua-
lity which is generally signified by such
Sounds.
6. Short or abrupt Sound has a contrary
expression, and signifies the sudden cessation
of the quality thus expressed.
7. Increasing Sound signifies, in the same
manner, the increase of the quality express-
ed—as, - -
8. Decreasing Sound signifies the gradual
diminution of such qualities.
I shall leave to the reader to attend to
250 subliMITY AND BEAUTY
the diversisy of expression which arises from
the different combination of these diversities
of Sound. - -
The most Sublime of these Sounds ap-
pears to me to be a loud, grave, lengthened
and increasing Sound,
The least Sublime, a low, acute, abrupt,
or decreasing Sound,
The most Beautiful, a low, grave and de-
creasing Sound,
The least Beautiful, a loud, acute, length-
ened and increasing Sound,
Such are the few general principles that,
as far as I can judge, take place, with re-
s' gard to the Sublimity or Beauty of Sounds.
- The innumerable exceptions that there are
to every one of these rules, afford a suffi-
cient proof that this Sublimity or Beauty
does not arise from the Sounds themselves.
Where, however, any new Sound occurs,
it is, I think, by its approach to one or
other of these classes that we determine its
Sublimity or Beauty, ,
º:
of THE MATERIAL world. 251
SECTION II.
Of Composed Sounds, or Music.
I. * -
IN the preceding illustrations, I have
considered only Simple Sounds as produc-
ing the Emotions of Sublimity or Beauty.
Sounds, however, are capable of being
united by certain laws, and of forming a
whole. To such a composition of Sounds
we give the name of MUSIC; an Art, con-
fessedly, of great power, in producing Emo-
tions both of Sublimity and Beauty, and
the source of one of the first and purest
pleasures of which our nature is susceptible.
Upon this subject, I shall beg leave to
offer a few observations, although it is with
great diffidence that I speak upon an art
of which I have no theoretical knowledge,
259 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
#
and of which I can judge only from the
effect that it produces on myself.
The essence of Music consists in conti-
nued Sound. The same sound, however,
when continued, has no beauty, further than
as a simple sound, and, when long conti-
nued, becomes positively disagreeable: Mu-
sic, therefore, must necessarily consist in the
composition of different sounds.
The Succession or Composition of all
different Sounds is not equally pleasing.
By a peculiar law of our nature, there are
certain sounds of which the union is agree-
able, and others of which the union is dis-
agreeable. There is therefore a relation be-
tween sounds, established by Nature, which
cannot be violated without pain. Music,
therefore, as an art intended to produce
pleasure, must consist in the composition
of related Sounds.
These observations are sufficiently ob-
vious. There are, however, two other cir-
of THE MATERIAL WORLD. 253
cumstances in the Succession of Sounds,
necessary to constitute Music.
1. The mere Succession of related Sounds N
is not in itself pleasing. Although the Suc-
cession of any two related Sounds is agree-
able, yet a whole series of such Sounds, in
which no other relation was observed but
the relation between individual Sounds,
would be absolutely disagreeable. To ren-
der such a series pleasing, it is necessary
that it should possess Unity, or that we
should discern a relation not only between
the individual Sounds, but also among the
whole number of Sounds that constitute the
series. Although every word in language
is significant, and there is a necessary rela-
tion among words, established by the rules
of grammar; yet it is obviously possible to
arrange words according to grammatical
rules, which yet shall possess no meaning.
In the same manner, a series of Sounds may
be composed, according to their individual
relations, which yet may possess no general /
254 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
relation, and from which, as we can disco-
ver no end, we can derive no pleasure.
What Thought is to the arrangement of
words, the Key, or the fundamental Tone,
is to the arrangement of Sounds; and as
the one constitutes a whole in language, by
establishing a certain and definite idea, to
which all the words in a sentence bear a re-
lation, so the other constitutes a whole in
Music, by establishing a definite and leading
Sound, to which all the other Sounds in the
series bear a similar relation. The first cir-
cumstance, therefore, that distinguishes mu-
sical Succession, is the preservation of this
relation among all the individual Sounds to
one key or fundamental tone, which is the
foundation and end of the composition.
2. The second circumstance which distin-
guishes Musical Succession, is the Regula-
rity or Uniformity of that Succession. In
natural events, Succession without Regula-
rity, is confusion; and, wherever Art or De-
sign is supposed, is positively disagreeable.
of THE MATERIAL WORLD. 255
In Music, therefore, as an Art designed to
please, Regularity or Uniformity is abso-
lutely necessary. The most pleasing suc-
cession of Sounds, without the preservation
of this Regularity, or what is commonly
called Time, every one knows, is positively
displeasing. For this purpose, every suc-
cession of Sounds is supposed to be divid-
ed into certain equal intervals, which, whe-
ther they comprehend more or fewer Notes,
occupy the same space of Time in the suc-
cession of these Notes. To preserve this
Uniformity, if there are few Sounds in this
Interval, these Sounds must be prolonged
to occupy the whole space of Time. If
there are many, they must be sounded
quickly for the same reason. The one con-
stitutes what is called Slow, the other what
is called Quick Time in common language.
In both cases, however, the space or por-
tion of time allotted to each Interval is uni-
formly the same, and constitutes the only
Regularity of which Sounds in succession
256 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
are capable. A regular or uniform succes-
sion of Sounds, therefore, related to one
Key or fundamental Note, may be consi-
dered as constituting Musical succession,
and as distinguishing it from all other suc-
cessions of Sound. The accurate percep-
tion both of this Regularity, and of this Re-
lation, constitutes that Faculty which is ge-
nerally called a good or a Musical Ear.
II. .r
If, therefore, we consider Music as such
a succession of Sounds as I have now de-
scribed, the two circumstances which dis-
tinguish or determine the nature or charac-
ter of every composition, , are, the Nature
of the Key, and the Nature of the Pro-
gress; the Nature of the Fundamental and
governing Sound, and the Nature, or (as it
is commonly called) the Time, of the Suc-
cession.
With both of these characteristics of Mu-
of THE MATERIAL world. 257
sical composition I apprehend that we have
many Associations. i
The Key or fundamental Tone of every
Composition, from its relation to the Tones
of the human Voice, is naturally expressive
to us of those qualities or affections of mind
which are signified by such Sounds. It is
perhaps unnecessary to offer any illustration
of this, because it is so obvious to every man's
observation. The relation of such Tones in
Music to the expression of the qualities of
mind is indeed so strong, that all Musicians
understand what Keys or what Tones are
fitted for the expression of those affections,
which it is within the reach of Music to ex-
press. It is also observable, that they who
are most unacquainted with Music, are yet
able immediately to say, what is the affec-
tion which any particular Key is fitted to
express. Whether any piece of Music is
beautiful, or not, may be a subject of dis-
pute, and very often is so; but whether the
Sounds of which it is composed are gay or
WOL. I. T
*
258 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
solemn, cheerful or melancholy, elevating or
depressing, there is seldom any dispute.
That the Time of musical Composition is
also expressive to us of various affecting
or interesting qualities, can scarcely be dis-
puted. In all ages, quick time, or a rapid
succession of Sounds, has been appropriated
to the expression of Mirth and Gaiety; slow
time, or a slow succession of Sounds, to the
expression of Melancholy or Sadness. All
the passions or affections, therefore, which
partake of either of these ingredients, may
be generally expressed by such circum-
stances in the Composition; and the dif-
ferent degrees of such Movements may, in
the same manner, express such affections
as partake of any intermediate nature be-
tween these extremes. In what manner
the conception of such affections is associat-
ed with such circumstances in the progress
of Sound, it is not my business to explain.
Ht is sufficient that the fact itself is acknow-
ledged. I cannot avoid, however, observ-
of THE MATERIAL won LD. 259
ing, that there is a very strong analogy, not
only between the progress of Musical Sounds,
and the progress of Sounds in the human
Voice, in the case of particular passions;
but that there is also a similar analogy
between such progress in Sounds, and the
progress of Thought in the case of such
Passions. Under the influence of pleasing
or agreeable passions, the articulation is
quick; in the case of contrary passions, it
is slow; and so strong is this expression,
that we are disposed to judge of the pas-
sion any person is affected with, although
we do not hear the words he utters, merely
from the slowness or rapidity of his articu-
lation. It is observable, in the same man-
ner, that different passions have an influ-
ence upon the progress of our thoughts,
and that they operate very sensibly either
in accelerating or retarding this progress.
All the passions which belong to Pleasure,
are attended with a rapid succession of
Thoughts, and seem to give an unusual
T 2
260 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
degree of vigour to our Imagination. The
passions, on the contrary, which belong to
Pain, produce, in general, a slow and lan-
guid succession of Thought, and seem to
depress our Imagination below its usual
Tone. This is so obvious, that every per-
son must have observed it even in conver-
sation.
The progress of Musical Sounds, there-
fore, may very naturally express to us the
nature or character of particular passions;
not only from the analogy between such
progress of Sounds, and the progress of
Thought; but still more from its being in a
great measure the Sign of such affections of
Mind, by making use of the same Sounds
or Tones, and the same varieties in the pro-
gress of these Sounds, which are in real life
the Signs of such affections in the human
Voice. Whether these observations ac-
count for the associations we have with
musical Time, or not, is at present a mat-
ter of no consequence, as the fact itself
GF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 26H
is sufficiently certain. The appropriation of
particular time to particular Emotions, has
taken place in every age and country; is un-
derstood by every man; and is not the less
certain, though no account can be given of
the reason of it. *
It is in thus being able to express both
the Tone of Passion or Affection, and that
progress of Thought or Sentiment which be-
longs to such Affections, that, in as far as
I am able to judge, the real Foundation of
musical Expression consists. It is far be-
yond the bounds which I prescribe myself
in these observations, to enter into any mi-
nute investigation of the different expres-
sions which such Sounds, and such Com-
positions of Sounds in general possess. But
if the reader will recollect, what are the dis-
tinct associations which it has formerly been
observed we have with Sounds or Tones, as
loud or soft, grave or acute, and the parti-
cular associations which it has now been
observed we have with the different pro-
262 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
gressions of Sound, as quick, or moderate,
of slow; and will further attend to the pos-
sible number of ways in which these differ-
ent characteristics of Music may be combin-
ed, he will be fully sensible both of the dif-
ferent Emotions which it is in the power of
Music to express, and of the great variety
which it affords in the expression of these E-
motions. -
If I am not mistaken, the real extent of
Musical expression coincides in a great de-
gree with this account of it. These Signs in
the human Voice are general Signs. They
express particular classes of passion or emo-
tion, but they do not express any particular
passion. If we had no other means of in-
tercourse or of information, we might from
such Signs infer, that the person was elevat-
ed or depressed, gay or solemn, cheerful or
plaintive, joyous or sad; but we could not, I
think, infer, what was the particular passion
which produced these expressions. Music,
which can avail itself of these Signs only,
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 263
can express nothing more particular than
the Signs themselves. It will be found, ac-
cordingly, that it is within this limit that
musical Expression is really confined; that
such classes of Emotion it can perfectly ex-
press; but that when it goes beyond this
limit, it ceases to be either expressive or
beautiful. The general Emotions of Gaiety,
Elevation, Solemnity, Melancholy, or Sad-
ness, it is every day found to express; and
with regard to such general expressions
there is never any mistake; but when it
attempts to go further, when it attempts to
express particular passions, Ambition, For-
titude, Pity, Love, Gratitude, &c. it either
fails altogether in its effect, or is obliged
to have recourse to the assistance of words
to render it intelligible. “It is in general
“true” (says Dr Beattie) “that Poetry is the
“most immediate and the most accurate
“interpreter of Music. Without this auxi-
“liary, a piece of the best music, heard for
“ the first time, might be said to mean
264 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
“something, but we should not be able to
“say what. It might incline the heart to
“sensibility; but poetry or language would
“be necessary to improve that sensibility
“into a real Emotion, by fixing the fancy
“upon some definite and affecting ideas.
“A fine instrumental symphony, well per-
“formed, is like an oration delivered with
“propriety, but in an unknown tongue; it
“may affect us a little, but conveys no de-
“ terminate feeling. We are alarmed, per-
“haps, or melted, or soothed; but it is very
“imperfectly, because we know not why.
“The singer, by taking up the same air,
“ and applying words to it, immediately
“translates the oration into our own lan-
“guage. Then all uncertainty vanishes;
“the fancy is filled with determinate ideas;
“ and determinate Emotions take posses-
“sion of the heart.”—Essay upon Poetry
and Music, part 1. chap, vi.
. Nor is this confining the Expression of
which Music is capable, within narrower li-
OF THE MATE RIAL WORLD, 265
mits than is consistent with our experience of
its effects. Although its real power consists
in its imitation of those Signs of Emotion or
Passion which take place in the human
Voice, yet from its nature it possesses ad-
vantages which these Signs have not, and
which render it, within these limits, one of
the most powerful means which can be
made use of in exciting Emotion. As far
as I am able to judge, these advantages
principally consist in the two following cir-
CumstanceS.
1. In that variety of sounds which it ad-
mits of, in conformity to the Key, or funda-
mental Tone. In the real Expression of
Passion in the human Voice, the sound is
nearly uniform, or at least admits of very
small variation. In so far, therefore, as
mere Sound is concerned, the tone of any
passion would in a short time become un-
pleasing from its uniformity; and if this
effect were not forgot, in our attention to
the language and sentiments of the person
266 *SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
who addresses us, would be perceived by
every ear. In Music, on the contrary, the
variety of related Sounds which may be in-
troduced, not only prevents this unpleasing
effect of uniformity, and preserves the E-
motion which the prevailing tone is of it-
self able to excite, but, by varying the ex-
pression of it, keeps both our attention and
our imagination continually awake. The
one resembles what we should feel from the
passion of any person, who uniformly made
use of the same words to express to us what
he felt. The other, what we feel from that
eloquence of passion, where new images are
continually presenting themselves to the
mind of the speaker, and a new source of
delight is afforded to our imagination, in
the perception of the agreement of those
images with the Emotions from which they
arise. The effect of musical Composition,
in this light, resembles, in some measure,
the progress of an oration, in which our in-
terest is continually kept alive: and if it
OF THE MATERIAL world. 267
were possible for us, for a moment, to for-
get that the performer is only repeating a
lesson; were it possible for us to imagine,
that the sounds we hear were the imme-
diate expressions of his own Emotion, the
effect of Music might be conceived in some
measure to approach to the effect of Elo-
quence, To those who have felt this influ-
ence, in the degree in which, in some sea-
sons of sensibility, it may be felt, there is
no improbability in the accounts of the ef-
fects of Music in early times, when the pro-
fessions of Poetry and Music were not se-
parated; when the Bard, under the influ-
ence of some strong and present impression,
accommodated his melody to the language
of his own passion; and when the hearers,
under the influence of the same impression,
were prepared to go along with him, in every
variety of that Emotion which he felt and
expressed himself.
2. But, besides this, there is another cir-
cumstance in which the Expression of Mu-
268 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
sic differs materially from the Expression
of natural Signs, and which serves to add
considerably to the strength of its effect.
Such natural Sounds express to us imme-
diately, if they express at all, the Emotion
of the person from whom they proceed,
and therefore immediately excite our own
Emotion. As these Sounds, however, have
little or no variety, and excite immediately
their correspondent Emotion, it necessarily
happens, that they become weaker as they
proceed, until at last they become positive-
ly disagreeable. In musical Composition,
on the contrary, as such Sounds constitute a
whole, and have all a relation to the Key,
or fundamental Note in which they close,
they not only afford us a satisfaction as parts
of a regular whole, but, what is of much more
consequence, they keep our attention con- -
tinually awake, and our expectation excit-
ed, until we arrive at that fundamental Tone,
which is both the close of the Composition,
and the end of our expectation. Instead,
of THE MATE RIAL WORLD. 269
therefore, (as in the former case), of our
Emotion becoming more languid as the
Sounds proceed, it becomes, in the case of
musical Composition, on the contrary, more
strong, The peculiar affection we feel is
kept continually increasing, by means of
the expectation which is excited for the
perfection of this whole; and the one and
the other are only gratified when we arrive
at this desired and expected end.
In this respect, indeed, musical Expres-
sion is in itself superior even to the Expres-
sion of Language: and were the Passions
or Affections which it can express, as defi-
nite or particular, as those which can be
communicated by Words, it may well be
doubted, whether there is any Composition
of Words which could so powerfully affect
us, as such a Composition of Sounds. In
Language, every person under the influence
of Passion or Emotion, naturally begins
with expressing the cause of his Emotion;
an observation which every one must have
270 suBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
made in real life, and which might easily
be confirmed by instances from Dramatic
Poetry. In this case, our Emotion is im-
mediately at its height, and, as it has no
longer any assistance from curiosity, natu-
rally cools as the Speaker goes on. In Mu-
sic, on the contrary, the manner of this
communication resembles the artful, but in-
teresting conduct of the Epic or Dramatic
Poem, where we find ourselves at once in-
volved in the progress of some great In-
terest, where our curiosity is wound up to
its utmost to discover the event, and where,
at every step, this Interest increases, from
bringing us nearer to the expected end.
That the effect of musical Composition is
similar; that while it excites Emotion from
the nature of the Sounds, it excites also an
increasing expectation and interest from
the conduct of these Sounds, and from their
continued dependence upon the close, has,
I am persuaded, been felt in the strongest
manner by every person of common sensi-
OF THE MATE RIAL WORLD. 271
bility; and indeed is in itself extremely ob-
vious, from the effect which is universally
produced by any pathetic composition up-
on the audience. The increasing silence,—
the impatience of interruption, which are
so evident as the composition goes on,
the arts by which the performer is almost
instinctively led to enhance the merit of
the close, by seeming to depart from it,
the suppression of every sign of emotion till
the whole is completed,—and the violence
either of sensibility or applause, that are
immediately displayed, whenever a full and
harmonious close is produced; all testify in
the strongest manner the increasing nature
of the Emotion, and the singular advantage
which Music thus possesses, in keeping the
attention and the sensibility so powerfully
awake. .
Such seems to me the natural effect of
Music on the human Mind: in expressing
to us those Affections or Emotions, which
are signified by the tones of the Voice, and
*
272 SUBI, IMITY AND BEAUTY.
the progress of articulate Sounds; limited
indeed in the reach of its imitation or ex-
pression, and far inferior to language, in be-
ing confined to the expression only of ge-
neral Emotions; but powerful, within those
limits, beyond any other means we know,
both by the variety which it can afford, and
the continued and increasing interest which
it can raise.
It is obvious, that the observations which
I have now offered, relate principally to
vocal Music, and to that simple species of
Composition which is commonly called
Song or Air. I believe it will be found that
this is, in reality, not only the most expres-
sive species of Composition, but the only
one which affects the minds of uninstructed
Men. It is the only Music of early ages,
the only Music of the common People, the
only Music which pleases us in Infancy
and early Youth. It is a considerable time
before we discern the beauties of more arti-
ficial Composition, or indeed before we un-
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 273
derstand it. In such kinds of composition
a young person, whatever may be his na-
tural taste, seldom discovers any continued
relation. He is disposed to divide it in his
own mind into different parts—to consider
it as a collection of distinct airs; and he is
apt to judge of it, not as a whole, but as
the separate parts of it are expressive to
him or not. There is nothing, accordingly,
more common, than to find young people
expressing their admiration of a particular
strain or division of the Composition, and
such strains are always the most simple, and
those which approach most to the nature of
Airs: but it is seldom, I believe, that they
are able to follow the whole of a Concerto,
or that they are found to express their ad-
miration of it as a whole.
With such a species of Composition,
however, they who are instructed in Music
have many and very interesting associa-
tions. A Song or an Air leads us always
to think of the Sentiment, and seldom dis-
VOL. I. U
274 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
poses us to think of any thing else. An
Overture or a Concerto disposes us to think
of the Composer. It is a work in which
much invention, much judgment, and much
taste may be displayed; and it may have,
therefore, to those who are capable of judg-
ing of it, all that pleasing effect upon the
mind, which the composition of an excellent
Poem or Oration has upon the minds of
those who are judges of such works. The
qualities of Skill, of Novelty, of Learning,
of Invention, of Taste, may, in this manner,
be expressed by such compositions; quali-
ties, it is obvious, which are the foundation
both of Sublimity and Beauty in other cases,
and which may undoubtedly be the founda-
tion of such characters in musical Composi-
tion, even although it should have no other
or more affecting expression to recommend
it. Nor is this all; such compositions are
not read in private, but are publicly re-
cited. There is, therefore, the additional
circumstance of the performance to be at-
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 275
tended to ; a circumstance of no mean con-
sequence, and of which every man will ac-
knowledge the importance, who recollects
the different effects the same composition.
has produced on him, when performed by
different people. There is, therefore, the
Judgment, the Taste, the Expression of the
Performer, in addition to all those different
qualities of excellence which may distinguish
the Composition; and the whole effect is
similar to that which every one has felt
from any celebrated piece of Poetry, when
recited by an able and harmonious De-
claimer. Even to the very worst music,
this gives an effect, and the effect may
easily be conceived when the Music also
is good.
III.
While Music has this power in express-
ing some of the most interesting and affect-
ing passions of the human Mind; and is, in
its more artificial state, significant to us of
U 2
276 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
so many pleasing and delightful qualities, it
will not, I hope, be considered as rash, if I
presume to think that it is from these as-
sociations that it derives all its power in
producing the Emotions of Sublimity or
Beauty; and that, wherever it does produce
either of these effects, it is by being express-
ive to us either of some interesting passion,
or of some valuable and pleasing quality
in the Composition or the Performance.
When any musical Composition affects
us with the Emotions either of Sublimity or
Beauty, it should seem that this effect must
arise from one or other of the following
causes. 1st, From the nature of the single
or individual Sounds which enter into the
Composition: 2dly, From the nature of
the Composition itself, or from those laws
which, as has before been observed, are
necessary to render a succession of Sounds
agreeable, or to constitute Music: or, 3dly,
From the associations we connect with it,
vor the qualities of which it is expressive to
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 277
us. That the Beauty or Sublimity of single
sounds, is not a quality of the Sounds them-
selves, but arises from their expression, I have
already endeavoured to illustrate. That the
Beauty of musical Composition does not a-
rise from the second of those causes, or from
the circumstances of the Composition itself,
and that it is altogether to be ascribed to the
qualities of which it is expressive to us, I am
disposed to conclude, from the following con-
siderations.
1. If the Beauty of Music arose from
the regular composition of Sounds, accord-
ing to those laws which are necessary to
constitute Music or an agreeable succession
of Sounds, it would necessarily follow, that
every composition, where these laws were
observed, would be beautiful. Every man
however knows, that there is a very wide
distinction between Music, and beautiful
Music. If a Composition is expressive of
no sentiment, a common hearer feels no
Beauty from it: If it is quite common, and
278 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
has neither novelty nor skill in it, a Con-
noisseur in Music feels as little: If it has
neither one nor other, all the world pro-
nounce it bad Music. Yet such a Compo-
sition may be perfectly regular, may be in
obedience to the strictest laws of Compo-
sition; and will give to every one that in-
ferior pleasure, which arises from a regular
succession of Sounds. As there is there-
fore a very evident distinction between that
mechanical pleasure which we receive from
mere Music, and that delight which we feel
from Music when Beautiful or Sublime, it
is obvious, that the mere regular Compo-
sition of related Sounds, is not the cause
of the Emotions either of Sublimity or
Beauty.
2. If the Beauty of Music arose from any
of those qualities, either of Sound, or of the
Composition of Sounds, which are imme-
diately perceivable by the Ear, it is ob-
vious that this would be expressed in Lan-
guage, and that the terms by which such
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 279
Music was characterized, would be signi-
ficant of some quality or qualities discern-
ible by the Ear: If, on the contrary, this
Beauty arises from the interesting or affect-
ing qualities of which it is expressive to us,
such qualities, in the same manner, ought,
in common language, to be assigned as the
causes of this Emotion; and the terms by
which such Music is characterized ought to
be significant of such qualities. That the
last is the case, I think there can be no dis-
pute. The terms Plaintive, Tender, Cheer-
ful, Gay, Elevating, Solemn, &c. are not
only constantly applied to every kind of
Music that is either Sublime or Beautiful;
but it is in fact by such terms only that
men ever characterize the Compositions
from which they receive such Emotions.
If any man were asked what was it that
rendered such an Air so beautiful; he
would immediately answer, because it was
Plaintive, Solemn, Cheerful, &c.; but he
never would think of describing its peculiar
280 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
nature as a Composition of Sounds. In
the same manner, if he were accounting to
any person for the Beauty or Sublimity of
any Composition—if he were to describe it
in the most accurate way possible, as hav-
ing particular characters of Composition, he
might indeed make him wonder at his learn-
ing, but he would leave him as ignorant
as before, with regard to the source of its
Beauty. Were he to tell him, on the other
hand, that it was expressive of Melancholy,
Gaiety, or Tenderness, he would make him
understand at once the reason of his Emo-
tion. If the Beauty or Sublimity of Music
arose from the laws of its Composition, the
very reverse of all this would obviously be
the case.
It is observable, in the same manner,
that even they who are best acquainted
with the principles of Composition, and
who are most disposed to forget the end,
in attention to the rules of the science, yet
never think of expressing the Beauty or Su-
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 281
blimity of any piece of Music, by terms
significant of its nature as a Composition,
but by such as are significant of some plea-
sing or interesting Association. If they
forget the Expression of Music, they never
forget the merits of the Composer. When
they speak, therefore, of the Sublimity or
Beauty of any such Composition, if they are
further questioned upon the subject, it will
always be found, that it is either the Learn-
ing, the Invention, or the Taste which it
displays, that they assign as the foundation
of their admiration; or some other quality,
either in the composition or performance,
perfectly distinct from the mere qualities
either of Sound or Composition. This uni-
versal language of mankind, is not only a
proof of the connexion between the Beau-
ty and Sublimity of Music, and the Ex-
pressions which it conveys; but it is im-
possible that this language should ever have
been either employed, or understood, if the
282 SUBLIMIITY AND BE A U I Y
Sublimity or Beauty of Music were inde-
pendent of such Expressions.
3. If the Beauty or Sublimity of Music
depended solely upon the nature of its com-
position, and was independent of the qua-
lities of which it is expressive, it would ne-
cessarily happen, that the same composi-
tions must always be beautiful or sublime,
which once were so; and that in every si-
tuation they must produce the same Emo-
tion, in the same manner as every other
object of Sense uniformly produces its cor-
respondent Sensation. The truth is, how-
ever, that no such thing takes place; and
that, on the contrary, Music is then only
beautiful or sublime, when it is accommo-
dated to the Emotion which it is intended
to express. If the Passion of Revenge, for
instance, were expressed by the most beau-
tiful composition of Sounds conceivable,
which either naturally, or from habit, were
considered as expressive of Tenderness,
every man, instead of being affected with
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 283
its beauty, would laugh at its absurdity.
In the same manner, if Love or Tenderness
were expressed by any Sounds, or compo-
sition of Sounds, generally appropriated to
the expression of Rage, or Revenge, how-
ever sublime they might be according to
their own expression, they would undoubt-
edly cease to be so by such an appropria-
tion. Instances of the same kind might
easily be multiplied. If we could suppose,
that, by a miracle, the present system of
Sounds in the human Voice were altogether
changed; that the Tones which now ex-
press Mirth, should then express Melan-
choly; the Sounds which now express Rage,
should then express Tenderness, &c. and
that a similar revolution should at the same
time take place in the expression of the
progress of Sounds, I think every man will
allow, that the whole system of Music must
of necessity be changed; that a new Music
must arise, accommodated to this change
in the system of expressive Sounds; and
284, SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
that if it were not changed, instead of af-
fording us any Emotions of Beauty or Su-
blimity, it would either be unintelligible, or
absolutely absurd : yet, in such a case, all
that arises from the mere mechanical struc-
ture of Sounds would remain, all that is im-
mediately perceived by the Ear, either in
Sound itself, or in the composition of
Sound, would have undergone no revolu-
tion. There cannot well be a stronger
proof, that the Beauty or Sublimity of Mu-
sic arises from the qualities which it ex-
presses, and not from the means by which
they are expressed.
4. It is observable, that the Beauty or Su-
blimity of Music is felt by those who have
no perception of the relation of Sounds,
either in point of Tune or Time, and who
consequently must be unconscious of any
pleasure that arises from the mere composi-
tion of Sounds. Every one who will take
the trouble of inquiring, will find many
people who have (as it is generally called)
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 285
no musical ear, who are unable to learn the
simplest tune, and who can scarcely distin-
guish one tune from another, who are yet
sensible to the Beauty or Sublimity of Mu-
sic, and who feel delight from different kinds
of Composition. The want of a Musical
ear is not uncommon; but I believe there
is no instance of any person who is insen-
sible either to the Expression of different
Tones in the human Voice, or who is not
differently affected by the different progress
of Sounds. In such cases, although Music
has not the same extent of Expression to
them, that it has to those who are born with
a good ear, yet still it has some Expression;
and the proof of it is, that although they
cannot tell whether any note is just or not,
or whether the time of any composition is
perfectly preserved, they can still tell whe-
ther a song is gay or plaintive, whether fit-
ted to inspire mirth or melancholy. They
have therefore that degree of delight from
it, which the scenes of Nature usually in-
286 SUBLIMITY AND BI. A U T Y
spire, where a general but indistinct rela-
tion is observed to some interesting or af.
fecting qualities, and where, in consequence
of this relation, such scenes naturally tend
to excite or to encourage a correspondent
Emotion; but they are insensible to that
greater delight, which, as has already been
shown, every man of a good Ear feels, both
from the variety of this lºxpression, and
from the continued and increasing interest
which it awakens. If the Sublimity or
Beauty of Music arose from the discern-
ment of such relations as constitute the laws
of composition, it is obvious that they who
are incapable of discerning such relations,
would be incapable, at the same time, of
discovering either its Sublimity or Beauty.
In the preceding observations, I have
considered only the permanent Associations
we have with musical Composition, or the
Expressions which are everywhere felt both
in the Tone and the Time of such successions
of Sound, from their analogy to the character
OF THE MATER I A L WORLD. 287
and progress of Sound in the human Voice.
With Music, however, we have often many
accidental Associations, both individual and
national; and the influence of such As-
sociations upon our opinions of the Beau-
ty or Sublimity of Music might be shown
from many considerations. On the one
hand, from the dependence of the Beauty
of Music upon the temporary or habitual
dispositions of our minds,-from the dif-
ferent effect which is produced by the same
Composition, according to the Associations
we happen to connect with it, and from
the tendency which all national Music has
to render those who are accustomed to it
insensible to the beauty of any foreign Mu-
sic, from their association of particular senti-
ments with peculiar characters or modes of
Composition: And, on the other hand, from
the influence of individual or national As-
sociations, in increasing the Sublimity or
Beauty of Music, both by increasing its
natural Expressions, and by rendering these
288 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
Expressions more definite and precise. I
am unwilling, however, to swell these very
imperfect remarks, by illustrations which
every one can so easily prosecute for himself.
From the whole, I am induced to conclude,
that Music is productive to us of two dis-
tinct and separate Pleasures:
I. Of that mechanical Pleasure, which by
the constitution of our nature accompanies
the perception of a regular succession of re-
lated Sounds:
2. Of that Pleasure which such composi-
tions of Sound may produce, either by the
Expression of some pathetic or interesting
Affection, or by being the sign of some
pleasing or valuable Quality, either in the
Composition or the Performance.
That it is to this last source the Beauty
or Sublimity of Music is to be ascribed, or
that it is Beautiful or Sublime only when it
is expressive of some pleasing or interest-
ing Quality, I hope is evident from the
preceding observations.
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 289
CHAPTER III.
Of the Objects of Sight.
THE greatest part of the external objects,
in which we discover Sublimity or Beauty,
are such as are perceived by the Sense of
Sight. It has even been imagined by some
Philosophers, that it is to such objects only
that the name of Beauty is properly applied,
and that it is only from analogy that the
same term is applied to the objects of our
other Senses. This opinion, however, seems
at first sight ill-founded. The terms Beauty
and Sublimity are applied by all men to
Sounds, and even sometimes to Smells. In
our own experience, we very often find, that
the same Emotion is produced by Sounds,
which is produced by Forms or Colours; and
the nature of language sufficiently shows, that
WOL. I. X. x
290 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
this is conformable also to general experi-
ence. There seems no reason therefore for
limiting the objects of Sublimity or Beauty
to the sole class of visible objects.
It must however be acknowledged, that
by far the greatest number of these objects
are such as we discover by means of this
Sense; nor does it seem difficult to assign
the reason of this superiority. By the rest
of our senses, we discover only single quali-
ties of objects; but by the Sense of Seeing,
we discover all that assemblage of qualities
which constitute, in our imaginations, the
peculiar nature of such objects. By our
other senses, we discover, in general, such
qualities, only when the bodies are in con-
tact with us; but the Sense of Sight affords
us a very wide field of observation, and en-
ables us to make them the objects of atten-
tion, when they are at very considerable
distances from ourselves. It is natural,
therefore, that the greater power of this
Sense should dispose us to greater confi-
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 291
dence in it, and that the qualities of bodies
which we discover by means of it, should
more powerfully impress themselves upon
our imagination and memory, than those
single qualities which we discover by the
means of our other Senses. The visible
qualities of objects, accordingly, become to
us not only the distinguishing characteristics
of external bodies, but they become also in
a great measure the Signs of all their other
qualities; and, by recalling to our minds the
qualities signified, affect us in some degree
with the same Emotion which the objects
themselves can excite. Not only the smell
of the Rose, or the Violet, is expressed to
us by their Colours and Forms; but the
utility of a Machine, the elegance of a De.
sign, the proportion of a Column, the speed
of the Horse, the ferocity of the Lion, even
all the qualities of the human mind, are na-
turally expressed to us by certain visible
appearances; because our experience has
taught us, that such qualities are connected
X 2
292 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY,
with such appearances; and the presence of
the one immediately suggests to us the idea
of the other. Such visible qualities, there-
fore, are gradually considered as the Signs
of other qualities, and are productive to us
of the same Emotions with the qualities
they signify. º -:
But, besides this, it is also to be observ-
ed, that by this sense, we not only discover
the nature of individual objects, and there-
fore naturally associate their qualities with
their visible appearance; but that by it
also we discover the relation of objects to
each other; and that hence a great variety
of objects in nature become expressive of
qualities which do not immediately belong
to themselves, but to the objects with which
we have found them connected. Thus, for
instance, it is by this sense we discover that
the Eagle inhabits among Rocks and Moun-
tains; that the Redbreast leaves the Woods
in Winter, to seek shelter and food among
the dwellings of men; that the song of the
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 293
Nightingale is peculiar to the Evening and
the Night, &c. In consequence of this per-
manent connexion, these animals acquire a
character from the scenes they inhabit, or
the seasons in which they appear, and are
expressive to us, in some measure, of the
character of these seasons and scenes. ... It
is hence that so many objects become ex-
pressive, which perhaps in themselves would
never have been so; that the Curfew is so
solemn from accompanying the close of
day; the twitter of the Swallow so cheerful,
from its being heard in the morning; the
bleating of Sheep, the call of the Goat, the
lowing of Kine, so beautiful from their oc-
curring in pastoral or romantic situations;
in short, that the greatest number of natu-
ral objects acquire their expression from
their connexion with particular or affecting
SCCIleS.
As, in this way, the visible qualities of
objects become expressive to us of all the
qualities which they possess; and besides,
204 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
in so many cases receive expression from
their connexion with other objects, it is ex-
tremely natural that such qualities should
form the greatest and most numerous class
of the objects of Material Beauty.
I proceed to a more particular investiga-
tion of the Sublimity and Beauty of some
of the most remarkable Classes of these
Qualities,
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 295.
SECTION I.
Of the Beauty of Colours.
THE greatest part of Colours are con-
nected with a kind of established Imagery
in our Minds, and are considered as express-
ive of many very pleasing and affecting
Qualities.
These Associations may perhaps be in-
cluded in the following Enumeration; 1st,
Such as arise from the nature of the objects
thus permanently coloured; 2dly, Such as
arise from some analogy between certain
Colours, and certain Dispositions of Mind;
and, 3dly, Such as arise from accidental
connexions, whether national or particular.
1. When we have been accustomed to see
any object capable of exciting Emotion, dis-
tinguished by some fixed or permanent Co-
lour, we are apt to extend to the Colour the
296 SUB LIMITY AND BEAUTY
Qualities of the object thus coloured; and
to feel from it, when separated, some de-
gree of the same Emotion which is proper-
ly excited by the object itself. Instances
of this kind are within every person's ob-
servation. White, as it is the colour of
Lay, is expressive to us of the Cheerfulness
or Gaiety which the return of Day brings.
Black, as the colour of Darkness, is express-
ive of Gloom and Melancholy. The Co-
lour of the Heavens, in serene Weather, is
Blue: Blue is therefore expressive to us of
somewhat of the same pleasing and temper-
ate character. Green is the colour of the
Earth in Spring: It is consequently ex-
pressive to us of some of those delightful
images which we associate with that Sea-
son. The colours of Vegetables and Mi-
nerals acquire, in the same manner, a kind
of character from the character of the
species which they distinguish. The ex-
pression of those colours, which are the
signs of particular passions in the human
OF THE MATE RIAL WORLD. 297
Countenance, and which, from this conne-
xion, derive their effect, every one is ac-
quainted with. -
2. There are many Colours which derive
expression from some analogy we discover
between them and certain affections of the
human Mind. Soft or strong, Mild or
Bold, Gay or Gloomy, Cheerful or Solemn,
&c. are terms in all Languages applied to
Colours; terms obviously metaphorical, and
the use of which indicates their connexion
with particular qualities of Mind. In the
same manner, different degrees or shades of
the same Colour have similar characters, as
Strong, or Temperate, or Gentle, &c. In
consequence of this Association, which is in
truth so strong, that it is to be found among
all mankind, such Colours derive a character
from this resemblance, and produce in our
Minds some faint degree of the same Emo-
tion, which the qualities they express are
fitted to produce. g
3. Many colours acquire character from
298. SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
accidental Association. Purple, for in-
stance, has acquired a character of Dig-
s nity, from its accidental connexion with
the Dress of Kings. The colours of Er-
mine have a similar character from the
same cause. The colours in every country.
which distinguish the dress of Magistrates,
Judges, &c. acquire dignity in the same
manner. Scarlet, in this country, as the
Colour which distinguishes the dress of the
Army, has, in some measure, a character
correspondent to its employment; and it
was perhaps this Association (though un-
known to himself), that induced the blind
man, mentioned by Mr Locke, to liken his
notion of Scarlet to the Sound of a Trum-
pet. Every person will, in the same man-
ner, probably recollect the particular colours.
which are pleasing to him, from their hav-
ing been worn by People whom he loved,
or from some other accidental Association.
In these several ways, Colours become.
significant to us of many interesting or aſ-
of THE MATERIAL world. Q90
ſecting qualities, and excite in us some de-
gree of the Emotions which such qualities
in themselves are fitted to produce. Whe-
ther some Colours may not of themselves
produce agreeable Sensations, and others
disagreeable Sensations, I am not anxious to
dispute: but wherever Colours are felt as
producing the Emotion of Beauty, that it
is by means of their Expression, and not
from any original fitness in the Colours
themselves to produce this effect, may per-
haps be obvious from the following consi-
derations.
1. The different Sentiments of Mankind, *
with regard to the Beauty of Colours, are
inconsistent with the opinion that such
qualities are beautiful in themselves. It is
impossible to infer, because any particular
Colour is beautiful in one country, that it
will also be beautiful in another: and there
are in fact many instances where the same
Colour produces very different opinions of
Beauty in different races of Men. Black,
300 SU. BL 1 M I"I‘Y AND BEAU'I'Y
to us, is in general an unpleasant Colour.
In Spain and in Venice, it is otherwise.
Yellow is to us, at least in dress, a dis-
agreeable Colour. In China, it is the fa-
vourite Colour. White is to us extremely
Beautiful. In China, on the contrary, it is
extremely disagreeable. Instances of the
same kind must have occurred to every
person. - - *
If we inquire, on the other hand, what is
the reason of this difference of opinion, we
shall uniformly find, that it arises from the
different Associations which these different
people have with such Colours; and that
their opinion of their Beauty is permanent-
ly regulated by the nature of the Qualities
of which they are expressive. Black is to
us an unpleasant Colour, because it is the
Colour appropriated to Mourning. In Ve-
nice and Spain, it is the Colour which dis-
tinguishes the dress of the Great. Yellow
is, in China, the imperial Colour, and sacred
to the Emperor and his property: it is
OF THE M A T E R FAL WOR I.D. 3OH
therefore associated with ideas of Magnifi-
cence and Royalty. Among us it has no
distinct Association, and is therefore beauti-
ful or otherwise, only according to its de-
gree or shade. White is beautiful to us in
a supreme degree, as emblematical both of
Innocence and Cheerfulness. In China,
on the other hand, it is the Colour appro-
priated to Mourning, and consequently,
very far from being generally beautiful.
In the same manner, wherever any peculiar
Colours are permanently favourite, there will
always be found some pleasing Association
which the People have with that Colour,
and of which they, in some measure, con-
sider it as significant. r
2. It is further observable, that no Co-
lours, in fact, are beautiful, but such as are
expressive to us of pleasing or interesting
Qualities. All Colours obviously are not
beautiful : the same colours are beautiful
only when they are expressive of such
qualities; and, in general, I believe it will
302 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
be found, that among all the variety of Co-
lours we are acquainted with, those only are
beautiful which have similar expressions.
The common Colours, for instance, of
many indifferent things which surround us,
of the Earth, of Stone, of Wood, &c. have
no kind of Beauty, and are never mention-
ed as such. The things themselves are so
indifferent to us, that they excite no kind
of Emotion, and of consequence, their Co-
lours produce no greater Emotion, as the
signs of such qualities, than the qualities
themselves. The Colours, in the same man-
ner, which distinguish the ordinary dress of
the common People, are never considered
as Beautiful. It is the Colours only of the
Dress of the Great, of the Opulent, or of
distinguished professions, which are ever
considered in this light. The Colours of
counnon furniture, in the same way, are
never beautiful: it is the colours only of
fashionable, or costly, or magnificent Fur-
niture, which are ever considered as such.
OF THE MATE RIAI, WORLD. 303
It is observable, further, that even the
most beautiful Colours (or those which are
expressive to us of the most pleasing Asso-
ciations), cease to appear beautiful when-
ever they are familiar, or when the objects
which they distinguish have ceased to pro-
duce their usual Emotions. The Blush of
the Rose, the Blue of a serene Sky, the
Green of the Spring, are Beautiful only
when they are new or unfamiliar. In a
short time we observe them with the same
indifference, that we do the most common
and unnoticed colours. That, in the same
manner, our perception of their Beauty
depends on the state of our own Minds,
and that it is only in seasons of sensibility
that we are conscious of it, is a fact which
every Man knows so well from his own ex-
perience, that it would be needless to illus-
trate it. * * ... ." . . ;
It may be observed also, that no new co-
lour is ever beautiful, until we have acquir-
ed some pleasing association with it. This
304 subi.IMITY AND BEAUTY
is peculiarly observable in the Article of
Dress; and indeed it is the best instance
of it; because, in such cases, no other cir-
cumstance intervenes by which the experi-
ment can be influenced. Every man must
have observed, that, in the great variety of
new colours which the caprice of Fashion
is perpetually introducing, no new colour
appears at first as beautiful. We feel, on
the contrary, a kind of disappointment,
when we see such a colour in the dress of
those who regulate the Fashions, instead of
that which used to distinguish them; and
even although the colour should be such
as, in other subjects, we consider as beauti-
ful, our disappointment still overbalances
the pleasure it might give. A few weeks,
even a few days alter our opinion. As soon
as it is generally adopted by those who
lead the public Taste, and has become of
consequence the mark of Rank and Ele-
gance, it immediately becomes beautiful.
This, it is observable, is not peculiar to co-
OF THE MATE RIAL WORLD. 305
lours that in themselves may be agreeable;
for it often happens, that the caprice of
Fashion leads us to admire colours that are
disagreeable, and that not only in themselves,
but also from the Associations with which
they are connected. A plain man would
scarcely believe, that the Colours of a glass
Bottle, of a dead Leaf, of Clay, &c. could
ever be beautiful; yet within these few
years, not only these, but some much more
unpleasant colours that might be mention-
ed, have been fashionable, and admired.
As soon, however, as the Fashion changes,
as soon as they whose Rank or Accom-
plishments give this fictitious value to the
Colours they wear think proper to desert
them, so soon the Beauty of the Colour is
at an end. A new colour succeeds; a new
disappointment attends its first appearance;
its beauty is gradually acknowledged; and
the Colour which was formerly the favour-
ite, sinks into neglect and contempt. If
the Faculty by which the Beauty of Colours
WOIA. I. Y
306 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
is perceived, had any analogy to a Sense,
it is obvious that such variations in our opi-
nion of their Beauty could not take place.
3. When the particular Associations we
have with such colours are destroyed, their
Beauty is destroyed at the same time.
The different machines, instruments, &c.
which minister to the convenience of Life,
have in general, from the materials of which
they are composed, or from the uses to
which they are applied, a fixed and deter-
minate Colour. This Colour becomes ac-
cordingly in some degree beautiful, from
its being the Sign of such qualities; and
although this effect is in a great measure
lost from the frequency of observation, it
is still observable upon many occasions.
Change the accustomed Colour of such ob-
jects, and every man feels a kind of disap-
pointment. This is so strong, that even if
a Colour more generally beautiful is sub-
stituted, yet still our dissatisfaction is the
same; and the new colour, instead of being
OF THE MIAT F. RIAL WOR L D. 307
beautiful, becomes the reverse. Rose-co-
lour, for instance, is a more beautiful Co-
lour than that of Mahogany; yet if any
man were to paint his doors and windows
with Rose-colour, he would certainly not
add to their Beauty. The Colour of a
polished steel grate is agreeable, but is not
in itself very beautiful. Suppose it painted
green, or violet, or crimson, all of them co-
lours much more beautiful; and the beauty
of it is altogether destroyed. The Colours
of Cedar, of Mahogany, of Satin-wood,
are not nearly so beautiful as many other
Colours that may be mentioned. There is
no Colour, however, with which such woods
can be painted, that would be so beautiful
as the Colours of the woods themselves;
because they are very valuable, and the
Colours are in some measure significant to
us of this value. Instances of this kind are
innumerable.
There are different professions in every
country, which are distinguished by dif-
Y 2
308 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
ferent coloured dresses. Whatever may
have led to this Appropriation, and however
fanciful and extravagant it may sometimes
be, after it is established, there is felt a kind
of propriety in the dress; and it is strongly
associated in our minds with the qualities
which such professions seem to indicate.
We are in some measure disappointed,
therefore, when we see a professional man
not in the dress of his profession; and when
he is in this dress, we conceive that there is
a propriety and Beauty in such a Colour.
Change the Colours of these several dresses,
and all this species of Beauty is destroyed.
We should not only laugh at the supposition
of the Army and Navy being dressed in
black, and the Church and the Bar in scar-
let; but we should feel also a discontent,
as if these Colours had in themselves a se-
parate Expression, and were in these cases
misapplied. Even in reversing the dress
of individuals of these different professions,
the whole Beauty of their dress is destroy-
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 309
ed; and we are conscious of a feeling of
impropriety, as if the qualities which are
peculiar to such professions were necessari-
ly connected with the dress they wear. So
strong is this association even in trifles, and
so naturally do Colours become expressive
to us of the qualities with which we have
found them generally connected.
In natural objects the same circumstance
is very apparent. There are Colours per-
haps more generally beautiful than those
which distinguish Trees, or Rocks, or Wa-
ters, or Cottages, or Ruins, or any of the
ordinary ingredients of rural scenery; yet
no Colours, but the natural, could possibly
be beautiful, in the imitation of such scenes;
because no other colours could be expressive
to us of those qualities which are the sources
of our Emotion from such objects in Nature,
That all the Beauty, in the same manner, of
Plants or Animals, would be destroyed, if
any new Colours, however generally beau-
tiful, were substituted in the place of those
310 &T)
SUBI,IMIT Y AND BE AUTY
by which Nature has distinguished their
different classes, and which are of conse-
quence associated in our minds with all the
qualities which they possess, is so obvious,
that it is altogether unnecessary to attempt
the illustration of it. That this principle
applies also to the Colours of Dress, and
that the same Colour is beautiful or not,
as the Expression which it has is suited to
the character or situation of the person who
wears it, every person may satisfy himself
by a little attention. As thus there is no
Colour whatever, which in all situations is
beautiful, and as, on the contrary, the Beau-
ty of every Colour is destroyed, whenever
the associations we have with it are dissolv-
ed, it seems reasonable to conclude, that
the Beauty of such qualities arises from their
Expression, and not from any original fitness
in them to produce this Emotion.
4. If the Beauty of Colours arose from
any original fitness in them to produce this
Emotion, it is apparent, that they who are
OF THE MATERIA L WOR L D. 311
incapable of such Perceptions, must be in-
capable of such Emotion. That the blind,
however, may receive the same delight, from
the ideas which they associate with Colours,
that they do who see, is a fact which I
think every one will be convinced of, who
reads the poems of Dr Blacklock. No man
who is not acquainted with the history of
their ingenious Author, could perceive that
he had the misfortune to lose his sight in
early infancy. That from conversation,
and from the perusal of books of poetry, it
was possible for him to learn the distinguish-
ing colours of certain objects, and to apply
them with sufficient propriety in his own
verses, I do not deny; but the circumstance
of importance at present is this, that his
poetry is full of the same sentiments, and
expresses the same admiration with regard
to the different visible qualities of matter,
with that of Poets who have had no such
defect; and that the same power is ascribed
to them in producing the Emotions of Beau.
312 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
ty, and with as great accuracy with regard
to particular instances, as in the composi-
tions of those who have had the Sense of
Sight in its fullest perfection. If our per-
ception of the Beauty of Colours arose from
some original fitness in such qualities to pro-
duce this Emotion, it is obvious, that the
blind must be as incapable of perceiving
this beauty, as of perceiving the Colours
themselves; but if the Beauty of Colours
arises from the associations we connect with
them, this fact, in the case of Dr Blacklock,
admits of a very simple solution. From
reading, and from conversation, he has ac-
quired the same associations with the Words
that express such Colours, as we have with
the Colours themselves; that the word
White, for instance, signifies a quality in
objects expressive of Cheerfulness and In-
nocence,—the word Purple, the quality of
Majesty, the word Black, the quality of
Gloom and Melancholy, &c. In this case,
it is obvious, that he may feel the same
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 3.13
Emotions from the use of these words, that
we do from the Colours which they express;
and that from the permanence of these as-
sociations in a great variety of cases, he may
apply the terms with sufficient propriety, ei-
ther in sublime or beautiful description. As
this is in reality the case, it seems to be a
very strong confirmation of the opinion, that
the beauty of such qualities arises from the
associations we connect with them, and not
from any original or independent Beauty in
the Colours themselves.
314, SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
CHAPTER IV.
Of Forms.
OF all material Qualities, that which is
most generally, and most naturally produc-
tive of the Emotions of Sublimity and Beau-
ty, is Form. Other qualities may be sepa-
rated from most objects, without destroying
their nature; but the Form of every mate-
rial object, in a great measure, constitutes its
nature and essence, and cannot be destroy-
ed, without destroying the individual sub-
ject to which it belongs. From whatever
cause, therefore, the Beauty of any mate-
rial object proceeds, it is natural to ascribe it
to the Form, or to that quality which most
intimately belongs to the object, and con-
stitutes its essence to our senses. The
common opinion, therefore, undoubtedly is,
OF THE MATERIAL WOR L D. 315
that Forms in themselves are beautiful; that
there is an original and essential Beauty in
some particular Forms; and that this quali-
ty is as immediately discernible in them, as
the Forms themselves. S
Philosophers, however, have not been sa-
tisfied with this common opinion. The Sup-
position of such an original and independ-
ent Beauty in Forms, has been found in-
consistent with many phenomena; and some
more general principle was wanted, under
which the different facts upon this subject
might be tolerably arranged. Many Theo-
ries accordingly have been formed to ac-
count for this species of Beauty. Some
have resolved it into a Sense of Proportion,
and endeavoured to establish, by analogy
from our other senses, certain proportions
which are immediately and permanently
beautiful. Others have accounted for this
Beauty from the union of Uniformity and
Variety. Some have supposed it to arise
from the consideration of Utility. Others
316 SUBLIMITY AN D B E AUTY
have asserted, that the Beauty of Forms
arises from their Commonness, and that the
beautiful Form is that which is most gene-
rally met with in objects of the same kind.
Mr Hogarth, in opposition to all, considers
the beautiful Form as being described by
lines of a particular kind, and has produced
a great variety of instances in support of his
opinion. - >
It is not my design, at present, to enter
into any examination of these several opi-
nions. In all of them, I believe, there is
something true to a certain extent, though
I believe also, that they have arisen from a
partial view of the subject, and are inade-
quate to account for the greater number of
the phenomena.
I may be allowed, however, to observe,
that of the two, the common opinion is by
much the most defensible. To reduce the
great variety of instances of Beauty in
Forms to any single principle, seems at first
sight altogether impossible; not only from
OF THE MAT E RIAL WORLD. 317
this variety, but also, in innumerable cases,
from the contrary nature of the Forms,
which, in fact, are Beautiful. As no Theo-
ry, besides, can possibly be maintained
without some foundation in Nature, the
number of Theories which have been pro-
duced upon this subject, are in themselves
an evidence, that this Beauty arises from
more causes than any one of these Theories
comprehends.
The principle which I have endeavoured
to illustrate, with regard to the Beauty and
Sublimity of Sounds and Colours, will, per-
haps, be found to be equally applicable to
the Beauty or Sublimity of Forms; and, as
far as I can judge, is free from the objec-
tions which may be stated both to the com-
mon and the philosophical opinions. In
the observations which follow, I shall there-
fore endeavour to show, that the Sublimity
or Beauty of Forms arises altogether from
the Associations we connect with them, or
the Qualities of which they are expressive
$18 8U BI, IMIITY AND BEAUTY
to us; and I shall endeavour to explain,
with as much accuracy as I am able, the
different Expressions of which Forms are
susceptible, and which are the Foundation
of that Sublimity and Beauty which we
ascribe to them. The importance of the
subject, will, I hope, be my excuse for the
length, and perhaps for the tediousness of
some of these illustrations.
Forms are naturally divisible into two
kinds—into animated and inanimate Forms.
It is the latter of these only, which I propose
at present to consider; as it is obviously
necessary first to consider the source of the
Beauty of which Form itself is capable, be-
fore we can properly ascertain that superior
Beauty which arises from Animation.
With regard to inanimate Forms, the
principal expressions which they have to us,
seem to me to be, 1st, The expressions of
such qualities as arise from the nature of
the bodies distinguished by such Forms;
and, 2dly, The expressions of such qualities
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 819
as arise from their being the subject or pro-
duction of Art. The first of these consti-
tutes what may be called their NATURAL
Beauty; the second, what may be called
their RELATIVE Beauty. There is also
another source of expression in such quali-
ties from accidental Association, and which
perhaps may be termed their AccIDENTAL
Beauty.
Upon each of these sources of the Beauty
of Forms, I shall offer some observations.
320 SUBI. IMITY AND BEARJTY
SECTION I.
Of the Natural Sublimity and Beauty of
I'orms.
PART I.
Of the Sublimity of Forms.
THE Sublimity of inanimate Forms seems
to arise chiefly from two sources; 1st, From
the nature of the objects distinguished by
that Form; and, 2dly, From the quantity
or magnitude of the Form itself. There
are other circumstances in the nature of
Forms, which may extend or increase this
character; but I apprehend, that the two
now mentioned, are the only ones which of
themselves constitute Sublimity. Both of
them, I believe, are productive of this ef-
fect, by being expressive to us of qualities
capable of exciting very strong Emotions.
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 321
I.
1. The Forms which distinguish bodies
that are connected in our minds with ideas
of Danger or Power, are in general Su-
blime. There is scarcely any thing in in-
animate Nature more remarkably so, than
all those Forms which are appropriated to
the instruments of war. The Forms of
Cannon, Mortars, &c. have all a character
of this kind. Military Ensigns, although
approaching to very common and neglect-
ed Forms, partake of the same character.
There are few things more Sublime than the
Forms of Armour; particularly the steel
Armour which was in use in the middle
ages. Even the familiarity of common use
does not altogether destroy this effect: the
Sword, the Spear, the Javelin, the Dagger,
are still sublime Forms, and enter with pro-
priety into the sublimest descriptions either
of Poetry or Painting.
2. The Forms that in general distinguish
VOL. I. Z
322 SUBEIMITY AND BEAUT Y
bodies of great duration, and which of con-
sequence express to us great Power or
Strength, are in most cases Sublime. In
the Vegetable Kingdom, the Forms of
Trces are Sublime, principally in proportion
to their expression of this quality. No-
thing is more Sublime than the form of
Rocks, which seem to be coeval with Crea-
tion, and which all the convulsions of Na-
ture have not been able to destroy. The
Sublimest of all the Mechanical Arts is Ar-
chitecture, principally from the durableness
of its productions; and these productions
are in themselves Sublime, in proportion to
their Antiquity, or the extent of their Du-
ration. The Gothic Castle is still more
Sublime than all; because, besides the deso-
lation of Time, it seems also to have with-
stood the assaults of War.
3. The Forms which distinguish bodies
that are connected in our Minds with ideas
of Splendour or Magnificence, are in gene-
ral Sublime. The Forms of the Throne, the
OF THE MATE RIAL WOR I. D. 323
Sceptre, and the Diadem, approach, in
fact, to very common and very neglected
Forms; yet they are all sublime, from being
the signs of the Splendour and Magnificence
of Royalty. The triumphal Car, and the
triumphal Arch, are sublime Forms, from
similar Associations.
4. The Forms, in the same manner;
which distinguish bodies connected in our
Minds with ideas of Awe or Solemnity, are
in general sublime. The Forms of Temples,
although very different as Forms, have in
all ages been accounted as sublime. Even
the most common Forms employed in reli-
gious service, derive a character of this kind
from the qualities with which they are con-
nected. The Thunderbolt of Jupiter, the
Trident of Neptune, &c. seem to have been
considered by the Ancients as sublime
Forms, although in themselves they are in-
significant. The Forms of all those things,
in the same manner, which are employed
in the burial of the Dead, are strikingly
7, 2
324, SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
sublime. The Pall, the Hearse, the Robes
of Mourners, &c. even the Plumes, which
in general are so beautiful, and the Colour
of which is in most cases so cheerful, are,
in this situation, above all other things,
powerfully Sublime.
That these, and probably other Associa-
tions of a similar kind, have an effect in be-
stowing Sublimity upon the Forms which
generally distinguish such bodies, every per-
son, I think, will be satisfied, both from his
own experience, and from conversation.
That the Sublimity of such Forms arises
from the qualities which they express, and
not from an original fitness in any peculiar
Form to produce this Emotion, is so appa-
rent from the single consideration of the
great variety of Forms that are sublime,
that I will not fatigue the reader by any
further illustration of it. * …?
II.
The Sublimity of Forms, in many cases
OF THE MIATE RIAL WORLD. 325
also, arises from their Magnitude; and this
Quality alone is often sufficient to bestow
Sublimity. With Magnitude, accordingly,
we have many distinct and powerful Asso-
ciations. -
In animal Forms, Magnitude is strongly
associated in our Minds with the idea of
proportionable Power or Strength, and is
chiefly sublime from its expression of this
Quality. Animals of great size, but feeble
or harmless, are so far from being sublime,
that they are in general contemptible; a
fact which may easily be observed even in
the opinions of Children. -
In inanimate Forms, Magnitude seems to
have different expressions to us, according
to its different appearance or description.
Magnitude in Height, is expressive to
us of Elevation, and Magnanimity. The
source of this Association is so obvious,
and the Association itself so natural, that
such qualities of mind have, in all ages, been
expressed by these images, and such Mag-
3.26 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
nitudes described by terms drawn from
these qualities of Mind.
Magnitude in depth is expressive to us
of Danger or Terror, and, from our constant
experience, of images of Horror. In all
countries, the popular Hell is considered as
an unfathomable abyss, into which the souls
of the wicked are plunged.
Magnitude in Length, is expressive to us
of Vastness, and, when apparently unbound-
ed, of Infinity; that being naturally imagin-
ed to be without end, to which we can dis-
cern none. It is impossible to see a vast
plain, and above all, the ocean, without
this impression. In spite of the knowledge
we have of the immense space between us
and the fixed stars, and of the comparative-
ly trifling distance between any two points
in this globe, yet the former is not nearly
so sublime as the view of the ocean without
shore, or even of a great plain without
bounds. -
Magnitude in breadth, is expressive to
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 327.
us of Stability, of Duration, of Superiority
to Destruction. Towers, Forts, Castles, &c.
are sublime in consequence of this associa-
tion, though very often they have no other
considerable magnitude. The pyramids of
Egypt are strikingly sublime in point of
form, from this Expression, as well as from
the real knowledge we have of their dura-
tion. We are so accustomed to judge of
the stability of every thing by the propor-
tion of its base, that terms borrowed from
this material quality, are in every language
appropriated to the expression of some of
the sublimest conceptions we can form; to
the stability of Nations, of Empires, of the
Laws of Nature, of the future hopes of
good men. * : *t
For the reality of these Associations, I
might appeal to every man's own experi-
ence, as well as to the common language
of mankind. That it is from such Expres-
sions, or from being the sign of such quali-
ties that Magnitude is sublime, and not
328 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
from any original fitness in the quality it-
self to produce this Emotion, seems to be
obvious from the following considerations:
1st, That there is no determinate Magni-
tude, which is solely or peculiarly sublime,
as would necessarily be the case, were Mag-
nitude itself the cause of this Emotion;
2dly, That the same visible Magnitude
which is sublime in one subject, is often
very far from being sublime in another, and
vice versa; and, 3dly, That Magnitude,
according to its different appearances, has
different characters of Sublimity, correspond-
ing to the different Expressions which such
appearances have; whereas if it were in it-
self sublime, independently of all Expres-
sion, it would in all cases have the same de-
gree, and the same character of Sublimity.
OF THE MATER IAI, WORLD, 320
P A R T II,
Of the Natural Beauty of Forms.
The most obvious definition of For M, is
that of Matter, bounded or circumscribed
by Lines. As no straight line, however,
can include Matter, it follows, that the only
Lines which can constitute Form, must be
either, 1st, Angular Lines, or, 2dly, Curved
or winding Lines. Every Form whatever
must be composed either by one or other
of these Lines, or by the Union of them.
When Forms are composed by one of
these lines solely, they may be termed SIM-
PLE Forms. When they are composed by
the Union of them, they may be termed
CoM PLEx Forms.
For the sake of perspicuity, I shall first
consider what it is that constitutes the Beau-
ty of Simple Forms, and then, what consti-
tutes the Beauty of Complex Forms.
330 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
Simple Forms, then, may be considered as
described either by angular or winding Lines.
These different Forms seem to me to be
connected in our minds with very different
Associations, or to be expressive to us of
very different Qualities. I shall beg leave
to mention some of these without pretend-
ing to a complete enumeration. * *
1. The greater part of those bodies in
Nature, which possess Hardness, Strength,
or Durability, are distinguished by angular
Forms. The greater part of those bodies,
on the contrary, which possess Weakness,
Fragility or Delicacy, are distinguished by
winding or curvilinear Forms. In the Mi-
neral Kingdom, all Rocks, Stones, and
Metals, the hardest and most durable bodies
we know, assume universally angular Forms.
In the Vegetable Kingdom, all strong and
durable Plants are in general distinguished
by similar Forms. The feebler and more
delicate race of Vegetables, on the contrary,
are mostly distinguished by winding Forms,
of THE MATERIAL wor-LD. 331
Hn the Animal Kingdom, in the same man-
ner, strong and powerful Animals are ge-
nerally characterized by Angular Forms;
feeble and delicate Animals by Forms of
the contrary kind. In consequence of this
very general connexion in Nature, these
different Forms become expressive to us of
the different qualities of Strength and De-
licacy. º, -:
2. In all those bodies which have a pro-
gress, or which grow and decay within our
own observation, the same character of Form
is observable. In the Vegetable Kingdom,
the infancy or youth of plants is, in general,
distinguished by winding Forms. The in-
fancy and youth of animals is, in the same
manner, distinguished by winding or ser-
pentine Forms; their mature and perfect age,
by Forms more direct and angular. In con-
sequence of this connexion, Forms of the
first kind become, in such cases, expressive
to us of Infancy, and Tenderness, and Deli-
332 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
cacy; and those of the second kind, of Ma-
turity, and Strength, and Vigour.
3. Besides these very obvious Associa-
tions, it is also to be observed, that from
the Sense of Touch, angular Forms are ex-
pressive to us of Roughness, Sharpness,
Harshness; winding Forms, on the contra-
ry, of Softness, Smoothness, Delicacy, and
Fineness: and this connexion is so per-
manent, that we immediately infer the ex-
istence of these qualities, when the bodies
are only perceived by the Eye. There is a
very strong analogy between such qualities as
are perceived by the Sense of Touch, and
certain qualities of Mind; as in all lan-
guages such qualities are expressed by terms
drawn from the perceptions of the external
sense. Such Forms, therefore, when pre-
sented to the Eye, not only lead us to infer
those material qualities which are perceived
by the Sense of Touch, but, along with these,
to infer also those qualities of mind which,
from analogy, are signified by such quali-
of TIME MATERIAL world. 333
ties of matter, and to feel from them some
degree of that Emotion which these disposi-
tions of mind themselves are fitted to pro-
duce. The epithets Bold, Harsh, Gentle,
Delicate, are universally applied to Forms.
In all languages figurative expressions of a
similar kind will be found; and whoever
attends either to his own feelings, or to the
meaning which men in general annex to such
words in applying them to Forms, will, I
believe, be convinced, that the Emotion which
they signify, and are intended to signify, is
founded upon the associated qualities, and -
very different from the mere agreeable or
disagreeable sensation which the material qua-
lities alone convey.
4. The observations which I have now
made, relate principally to simple curves,
or to Forms in which a single curvature
takes place; as the curve of the weeping
Willow, of the young shoots of Trees, of
the stem of the Tulip, and the Lily of the
Valley. There is another species of Form,
334 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
\
commonly distinguished by the name of
the winding or serpentine Form, in which
different curves take place, or in which a
continued Line winds into several Cur-
vatures. With this Form, I apprehend we
have another, and a very important Asso-
ciation, I mean that of Ease. From what
cause this Association arises, I will not now
stop to inquire; but I conceive every one
must have observed, that wherever we find
Vegetables, or any other. delicate Or attenll-
ated body assume such a Form, we are im-
pressed with the conviction of its being
easy, agreeable to their nature, and free
from force or constraint. On the contrary,
when such bodies, in the line of their pro-
gress, assume angular Forms, we have a
strong impression of the operation of force,
of something that either prevents them from
their natural direction, or that constrains
them to assume an unnatural one. That
winding Forms are thus expressive to us of
Wolition and Ease, and angular Forms of
OF THE MATERIAL WORI, D. 335
the operation of Force or Constraint, ap-
pears from a singular circumstance in Lan-
guage, viz. That, in general, all the former
directions are expressed by verbs in the ac-
tive voice; a River winds, a Vine wreathes
itself about the Elm, a Flower bends, &c.;
while, on the other hand, all directions of
the latter kind are expressed in general by
the passive voice of verbs. I believe, also, I
may appeal to the observation of the reader,
whether from the winding of a River, of
the Ivy, or of the tendrils of the Vine, he
has not an impression of Ease, of Free-
dom, of something agreeable to the object:
and whether, in the contrary Forms in such
cases, he has not an impression of uneasi-
ness, from the conviction of Force having
been applied, or some obstacle having oc-
curred, to constrain them to assume a direc-
tion unnatural to them. In general, there.
fore, I apprehend, that winding or serpen-
tine Forms are expressive to us of Ease,
and angular Forms of Force or Constraint,
336 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
Such seem to me the principal Associations
we have with the great division of Simple
Forms; Winding Forms being expressive
to us of Fineness, Delicacy, Ease; and an-
gular Forms of Strength, Roughness, and
in some cases of the operation of Force or
Constraint.
All Forms, as perceived by the Eye, are
constituted by Lines; and their Beauty is
dependent upon the nature of these consti-
tuent parts. It is natural, therefore, to in-
quire, whether, from such Associations, any
general principles can be formed, which may
direct the Artist in the invention of beauti-
ful Forms, by determining the character and
expression of Lines.
Lines differ either in regard to their Na-
ture, or their Direction.
1. Lines differ in regard to their nature,
according to the different degrees of their
Consistence or Strength. Strong and vi-
gorous lines are expressive to us of Strength
and Stability when perpendicular; and of
OF THE MATERIA L WOR L D. 337
some degree of harshness or roughness when
horizontal, or in an oblique direction. Fine
and faint Lines are expressive to us of
Smoothness, Fineness, Delicacy. In any
given number of straight Lines, that is al-
ways most beautiful which is finest, or which,
while it preserves its continuity, has the ap-
pearance of the smallest quantity of matter
employed in the formation of it; hence,
in every subject, either of Art or Nature,
one of the principal causes of the Beauty of
delicate outline.
2. Lines differ in their direction in two
ways. They are either Even or Uneven,
that is, Straight or Irregular. Irregular
Lines differ again; they are either in Angles
or Curves.
1. Even Lines are expressive to us of
Softness and Smoothness.
2. Uneven Lines are either Angular or
Winding. --
Angular Lines are expressive of Harsh-
ness, Roughness, &c.
WOL. I. A A
338 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
Winding Lines, of Pliancy, Delicacy,
Ease, &c.
The real and actual Beauty of Lines will
be found to correspond to those Associations;
and those are in fact the most beautiful
which have the most pleasing or affecting
Expression.
1. Strong and Even Lines express
Strength and Smoothness. They have there-
fore a degree of Beauty. Fine and Even
Lines express Delicacy and Smoothness.
They are accordingly more beautiful than
the former.
2. Strong and Angular Lines express
Strength and Harshness: They are there-
fore very seldom beautiful. Fine and An-
gular Lines express Delicacy together with
Roughness: They are beautiful therefore
only, when the expression of Delicacy pre-
wails over the other. -
3. Strong and Winding Lines express
Strength and Gentleness or Delicacy.—
Their effect is mutually destroyed, and they
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 339.
are accordingly indifferent, if not unpleas-
ing. Fine and Winding Lines express De-
licacy and Ease, They are accordingly pe-
culiarly beautiful. *
4. The least beautiful Lines are Strong
and Angular Lines. The most Beautiful,
Fine and Winding Lines. -
Considering, therefore, Lines in this ab-
stracted view, and independent of the na-
ture of the bodies which they distinguish, it
seems very natural to conclude, that those
Forms will be the most beautiful which are
described by the most beautiful Lines; and
that, of consequence, the Serpentine or ,
winding Form must necessarily be the most
beautiful. It was this view of the subject
which seems to have influenced Mr Ho-
garth, in the opinions which he published
in his Analysis of Beauty. He saw clear-
ly, and his art afforded him continual
proofs of it, that the Winding Line was of
all others the most beautiful. He conceiv-
ed, therefore, that all Forms must be beau-
A A 2
340 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
tiful in proportion to the predominance of
this Line in their Composition; and his
opinion falls in so much with the generał
observation of Mankind, that it has been
very universally adopted.
If, however, the observations which F
have made upon the different expressions
of Forms are just; if the Winding or Ser-
pentine Form is beautiful, not of itself, and
originally, but in consequence of the Asso-
ciations we connect with it, it ought to fol-
low, that whenever this Association is de-
stroyed, the Form should be no longer
beautiful; and that wherever the same As-
sociations are connected with the contrary
Form, that Form should then be felt as
Beautiful. X-
That this is actually the case, I shall now
endeavour to show from several very fami-
liar illustrations. -
I. If such Forms were in themselves
Beautiful, it is reasonable to think that this
should be expressed in Language, and that
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 341
the circumstance of the Form should be as-
signed as the cause of our Emotion. If, on
the contrary, such Forms are beautiful from
their being expressive of particular Quali-
ties, it is equally reasonable to think, that,
in common language, this expression should
be assigned as the cause of the Emotion.
That the latter is the case, cannot, I think,
well be disputed. No Man, when he is
speaking of the Beauty of any Form, unless
he has some Theory in his Mind, thinks of
ascribing it to the peculiar nature of the
I'orm, or of describing its Beauty to other
People, as consisting in this Form. The
terms, on the contrary, which are generally
used upon these occasions, are such as sig-
nify some quality of which the Form is ex-
pressive; and the epithets by which the
Beauty of the Form is marked, are such as
are significant of these qualities. Among
these qualities, those of Gentleness, Fine-
ness or Delicacy, as far as I can judge, are
the most remarkable, and the most general.
342 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
ly expressed in common Language. In
describing the beautiful Forms of Ground,
we speak of gentle Declivities, and gentle
Swells. In describing the beautiful Forms
of Water, we speak of a mild Current, gentle
Falls, soft Windings, a tranquil Stream. In
describing the beautiful Forms of the Vege-
table Kingdom, we use a similar Language.
The delicacy of Flowers, of Foliage, of the
young Shoots of Trees and Shrubs, are ex-
pressions everywhere to be heard, and which
everywhere convey the belief of Beauty in
these Forms. In the same manner, in those
ornamental Forms, which are the production
of Art, we employ the same Language to ex-
press our opinion of their Beauty. The deli-
cacy of a Wreath, of a Festoon,of the Drapery
of a Column, or of a Vase, are terms univer-
sally employed, and employed to signify the
reason of our admiration of their Forms.
It may be observed also, that in compar-
ing similar Forms, and determining with
- regard to their beauty, we employ the same
OF THE MATERIAI, wop LD. 343
language; and that the reason we assign
for our preference of one form to another,
is, in general, from its superior expression
of Fineness or Delicacy. In comparing
two Vases, or two Wreaths, or two Festoons,
or any other ornamental Forms, a Person
unacquainted with the Theories of Philoso-
phers, when he is asked the reason of his
preference, very readily answers, because it
is more delicate; but never thinks of as-
signing any circumstance of the Form it-
self, as the Foundation of his admiration.
The least attention to the common language
of Mankind on such subjects, will sufficient-
ly show how much the expression of deli-
cacy determines the Beauty of all ornamen-
tal Forms. In describing any beautiful
Form, in the same manner, to other people,
we usually employ the same language, and
this language is not only perfectly under-
stood, but immediately also conveys to
others the conception of the Beauty of this
Form. If we were to describe the most
344 subliMITY AND BEAUTY
beautiful Vase in technical terms, and ac-
cording to the distinguished characteristics
of its Form, no one but an Artist would
have any tolerable conception of its Beau-
ty; but if we were simply to describe it, as
peculiarly delicate in all its parts, I believe it
would leave with every one the impression of
the Beauty of its Form. If, however, there
were any original and independent Beauty
in particular Forms, the description of this
Form would be alone sufficient to convey the
idea of its Beauty; and the circumstance of
its delicacy or Fineness would be as little
able to convey this idea, as that of its Colour.
I shall only further observe upon this
subject, that the language and opinions of
Children, and of common People, are in-
consistent with the notion of any original
or absolute Beauty in any particular Forms.
Every Form is beautiful to Children that
distinguishes objects which they love or
take pleasure in ; and so far are they, or the
gommon People, from having any concep-
of THE MATERIAI, WQRLD. 345
tion of the abstract Beauty of any peculiar
Forms, that it is very seldom they distin-
guish between the Form and the subject
formed, or feel any other Emotion from it,
than as it is expressive to them of the qua-
lifies of the object distinguished by that
Form. If, on the contrary, there were any
original and independent Beauty in any
peculiar Form, the preference of this Form
would be early and decidedly marked, both
in the language of Children, and the opi-
nions of Mankind. -
As there appears, therefore, to be no Form
which is peculiarly or solely beautiful; and
as, in winding or curvilinear Forms, the ge-
neral nature of Language seems to ascribe
this Beauty to their expression of Delicacy,
and not to the mere circumstance of form
itself, it appears probable, that the Beauty
of such Forms arises from this expression,
and not from any original fitness in such
Forms to excite this Emotion. *... p.
2. When this Association is destroyed,
346 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY:
or when winding or curvilinear Forms cease
to be expressive of Tenderness or Delicacy,
I believe it will be found, that they cease
also to be felt as beautiful. The origin of
our Association of Delicacy with such Forms
arises, as I have before observed, from our
general experience that bodies of such a kind
are distinguished by such Forms. This as-
sociation therefore will be destroyed, when
such Forms are given to, or assumed by, bo-
dies of a contrary kind.
The greater part of beautiful Forms in
Nature, are to be found in the Vegetable
Kingdom, in the Forms of Flowers, of Fo-
liage, of Shrubs, and in those assumed by
the young Shoots of Trees. It is from
them, accordingly, that almost all those
Forms have been imitated, which have been
employed by Artists for the purposes of
Ornament and Elegance; and whoever will
take the trouble of reviewing these different
ornamental Forms, will find that they are
lmost invariably the Forms of such Vege-
$.--
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 347
tables, or of such parts of Vegetables, as are
distinguished by the Delicacy and Tender-
ness of their Texture.
There are many parts, however, of the
Vegetable Kingdom, which are not distin-
guished by this character of Delicacy. The
stem of some species of Flowers, and of al-
most all Shrubs, the trunk and branches of
Trees, are distinguished by opposite charac-
ters, and would indeed be unfit for the pur-
poses of Vegetation if they were not. In
these subjects, accordingly, the winding or
serpentine Form is very far from being beau-
tiful, as it has no longer its usual expression
of Fineness or Delicacy.
In the smaller and feebler tribe of flowers,
for instance, as in the Violet, the Daisy, or
the Lily of the Valley, the bending of the
stem constitutes a very beautiful Form, be-
cause we immediately perceive that it is the
consequence of the weakness and delicacy of
the flower. In the Rose, on the contra-
ry, and the white Lily, and in the tribe
348 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
of flowering shrubs, a class of vegetables
of greater strength, the same Form assumed
by the stem is felt as a defect; and instead
of impressing us with the idea of Delicacy,
leads us to believe the operation of some
force to twist it into this direction. In the
young and feeble branches of such plants,
however, this Form is again beautiful, when
we perceive that it is the consequence of
the delicacy of their texture, and of their
being overpowered by the weight of the
flower. In the Wine or Iyy, in the same
manner, the winding of the young shoots
and feebler branches, constitutes very beauti-
ful Forms. In the direction of the stem,
on the other hand, such Forms are felt as a
defect, as no longer expressive of Delicacy,
but of Force. In the growth of the strong-
er vegetables, as of Trees, where we know
and expect great strength, nothing can be
so far from being beautiful, as any winding
or serpentine Form assumed by the trunk.
The beautiful Form of such objects is of so
OF THE MATER IAI, WOR I.D. 34.9
very different a kind, that it is in the oppo-
site Form only that we perceive it. In the
direction of the branches, the same charac-
ter is expected, and a similar defect would
be felt in their assuming any regularly wind-
ing or curvilinear Form. It is only when
we arrive at the young shoots, and that only
in their infant season, in spring, that we
discover again the serpentine Form to be
beautiful, because it is then only that we
perceive it to be really expressive of Ten-
derness or Delicacy. Observations of this
kind are within every person's reach; and I
believe it will be found, that, in the Vege-
table Kingdom, the winding or serpentine
Form is no longer beautiful than while it is
expressive of some degree of Delicacy or
Fineness; and that it ceases to be beautiful,
whenever it is assumed by bodies of a dif-
ferent kind. r
All the different bodies which constitute
the Mineral Kingdom, are distinguished by
a greater degree of Hardness and Solidity,
350 subli MITY AND BEAUTY
than is to be found in any other of the pro-
ductions of Nature. Such bodies, how-
ever, by different exertions of Art, may be
moulded into any form we please; but the
beauty of the serpentine Form, in such
cases, is lost, from our consciousness of the
absence of that Delicacy which in general
accompanies such Forms. It is possible,
for instance, to imitate the winding of the
Ivy, the tendrils of the Vine, or the beau-
tiful curves of the Rose Tree, in Iron, or in
any other metal. It is possible also, to
colour such imitations in so perfect a man-
ner, as at first to deceive the spectator. If
I am not mistaken, however, the moment
we are undeceived, the moment we know
that the subject is so different from that
which characterizes such Forms in real Na-
ture, the Beauty of the Forms is destroyed;
and, instead of that pleasing sentiment of
Tenderness which the delicacy of the vege-
tables excites, a sentiment of disappoint-
ment and uneasiness succeeds: of dis-
of THE MATERIAL wo? L.D. 351
appointment, from the absence of that deli-
cacy which we generally infer from the ap-
pearance of such Forms; and of uneasiness,
from the conviction of Force having been
applied to twist the subject into so un-
natural directions. If the same observation
is further pursued, I think it will be found,
in general, that wherever the delicate Forms
of the vegetable world are imitated in
metal, or any other hard and durable sub-
stance, the character of the Form is lost;
and that, instead of that lively Emotion of
Beauty, which we receive from the original
Forms, we are conscious of a feeling of dis-
content, from the seeming impropriety of
giving to such durable Substances a charac-
ter which does not belong to them.
There are, however, undoubtedly, cases
in which curvilinear Forms in such subjects
are beautiful. I apprehend, however, that
this takes place only when a kind of adven-
titious delicacy is given to such substances,
and of consequence the same character is
S52 StJ BLIMITY AND BEAUTY
retained by the Form which we have gene-
rally associated with it in real Nature. This
effect is in general produced by the follow-
ing causes: 1st, When the quantity of mat-
ter is so small, as to overcome our sense of
its strength or durability; and, 2dly, When
the workmanship is so excellent, as to pro-
duce an opinion of fineness or delicacy, in-
dependent of the nature of the subject up-
on which it is employed. In either of these
cases, such Forms may be beautiful, though
assumed by the hardest or most durable sub-
StanceS.
A Bar of Iron, for instance, or of any other
metal, may be twisted by force into the
most perfect spiral Form; but, in such a
case, the conviction of force and labour de-
stroys altogether the beauty of the general
Form. Suppose this bar lengthened, until
it becomes as slender as the wires which are
made use of in musical instruments, and as
delicate as such wires are, and the Form
becomes immediately beautiful. The same
of THE MATERIAL worſ, D. 353
bar may be bent by force into the Form of
any given curve. In such a case the curve
is not beautiful. Make the same experi-
ment with a chain of iron, or of any other
metal which in some respects is yielding
and pliant, and where we know that no
force is requisite to make it assume such
Forms, and the curves which it produces
will be found very different in point of
Beauty. The imitation of any vegetable
Form, in the same manner, as the Vine, or
the Rose, in any kind of metal, and as large
as it is found in nature, would be very far
from being beautiful. The imitation of
such forms in Miniature, and in Relief,
when the character of the substance is in
some measure forgot in the diminution of
its quantity, may be, and very often is, ex-
tremely beautiful. The embellishments of
a Vase, or of an Urn, which in general con-
sist in the imitation of Vegetable Forms, are
beautiful, both from the diminution of their
size, and from the delicacy of their work-
WOL. I. B B
354 suBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
manship. If either of these circumstances
were wanting, if they were massy in their
substance, or imperfect in their execu-
tion, I apprehend a proportionable degree
of their Beauty would be lost. In the same
manner, although none of the Forms of the
greater vegetables are beautiful, when imi-
tated in their full size, many of the smaller
and more delicate plants may be imitated
with propriety, because such imitations sup-
pose not only small quantities of matter, but
great accuracy and perfection of art.
3 The same observation may be extended
to the ornaments of Architecture. These
ornaments being executed in a very hard
and durable substance, are in fact only
beautiful when they appear but as minute
parts of the whole. The great constituent
parts of every building require direct and
angular lines, because in such parts we
require the Expression of Stability and
Strength. It is only in the minute and
delicate parts of the work, that any kind of
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 355
ornament is attempted with propriety; and
whenever such ornaments exceed in size,
in their quantity of matter, or in the promi-
nence of their Relief, that proportion which
in point of lightness or delicacy we expect
them to hold with respect to the whole of
the building, the imitation of the most beau-
tiful Vegetable Forms does not preserve
them from the censure of Clumsiness and
Deformity. A ballustrade might with e-
qual propriety be finished in waving lines,
but certainly would not be beautiful. A
twisted column, though affording very pleas-
ing curves to the Eye, is acknowledged to
be less beautiful than the common and
regular one. In short, if the serpentine
Form were the only Form of Beauty, it
might with sufficient propriety be introduc-
ed into a great number of the ornamental
parts of Architecture. The fact, of which
every person may assure himself, that such
Forms are beautiful only in those parts
where the quantity of matter is minute, the
B B 2
356 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
Relief small, and the workmanship more
exquisite, affords a strong presumption, that
such Forms cease to be beautiful, when the
general Association we have with them is
destroyed.
It is the same limit which seems to de-
termine the Beauty of those Forms which .
are executed either in wood or plaster, for
the ornament of our houses. Every person
must have observed in old houses, the abso-
lute deformity of those figures with which
the roofs were decorated; and, in comparing
them with those of modern times, will per-
ceive that the great Superiority of the latter
consists in the greater delicacy of the
Forms, as well as in the greater perfection
of the execution. In both, flowers and for
liage are imitated; but in the one in full Re-
lief, and upon a scale sometimes greater than
that of Nature; in the other, with the sim-
plest Relief, and the finest Lines, that are con-
sistent with the preparation of the subject.
The terms, accordingly, by which we ex-
OF THE MATE RIAL WORLD. 357
press our contempt or our admiration of
them, are those of Heaviness or Lightness;
terms which in this subject are synonymous
with Massiness or Delicacy. The subjects,
however, are the same; and no other circum-
stances intervene, but the superior delicacy
of the Forms, and the greater accuracy of
the workmanship. --
It would lead me into too long a digres-
sion, if I were to enter into any detail on
these subjects. The hints which I have of
fered, may perhaps lead the reader to satisfy
himself by his own observation: That the
winding or curvilinear Form is beautiful
only in those subjects which are distinguish-
ed by softness or delicacy of texture; that
in substances of a hard or durable nature,
it in general ceases to be beautiful; and
that, in those cases where it is found to be
beautiful, it arises from that adventitious
delicacy (if I may so call it) which is pro-
duced, either when the quantity of matter
employed is so small as to overcome our
358, suBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
opinion of its strength or durability, or when
the workmanship is so excellent, as to be-
stow on the subject a character of Delicacy
which does not properly belong to it. If
in this manner it is found, that when the
Association is destroyed, the curvilinear
Form ceases to be beautiful, it is obvious,
that this Beauty is to be ascribed, not to the
Form itself, but to the quality of which it
is expressive.
3. As the Beauty of the winding or cur-
vilinear Form is thus destroyed, when those
Associations of Tenderness and of Delica-
cy, which we in general connect with it,
are dissolved, so, in the same manner, it
may be observed, that all other Forms,
when they have this character or expression,
are considered and felt as beautiful. If
there is any Form, or species of Forms,
which is fitted by the constitution of our
nature immediately to excite the Emotion
of Beauty, and independent of all Associa-
tion, it is obvious, that there never could
of THE MATERIAL Wortl D. 359
have been a doubt upon the subject; and
that, in every class of objects, we should
have been as able to point out the beauti-
ful Form, as to point out its Colour or
Smell. The fact is, however, that in no
class of objects is there any such permanent
Form of Beauty; and, besides the disagree-
ment of different ages and nations in the
Beauty of Forms, every man must have
perceived, in the course of his experience,
that every general rule on this subject is
liable to innumerable exceptions; and that
there is no one Form, or species of Form,
which, to the exclusion of all others, de-
mands and obtains admiration.
That angular Forms, accordingly, are
also beautiful, when they are expressive of
Fineness, of Tenderness, of Delicacy, or
such affecting qualities, may perhaps ap-
pear from the consideration of the following
instances. -
In the Vegetable World, although it is
generally true that winding Forms are those
360 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
that are assumed by young, or feeble, or
delicate plants, yet this rule is far from
being uniform; and there are many instan-
ces of similar productions being distinguish-
ed by Forms of an angular kind. There
are accordingly many cases, where this
Form is considered as beautiful, because it
is then expressive of the same qualities
which are generally expressed by Forms of
the other kind. The Myrtle, for instance,
is generally reckoned a beautiful Form; yet
the growth of its stem is perpendicular, the
junction of its branches form regular and
similar angles, and their direction is in
straight or angular Lines. The known de-
licacy, however, and tenderness of the Vege-
table, at least in this climate, prevails over
the general expression of the Form, and
gives it the same Beauty which we general-
ly find in Forms of a contrary kind. How
much more beautiful is the Rose Tree when
its buds begin to blow, than afterwards,
when its flowers are full and in their great-
OF THE MATE RIAL WOR L D, 361
est perfection yet in this first situation, its
form has much less winding surface, and is
much more composed of straight lines and of
angles, than afterwards, when the weight of
the flower weighs down the feeble branches,
and describes the easiest and most varied
curves. The circumstance of its youth,
a circumstance in all cases so affecting;
the delicacy of its blossom, so well express-
ed by the care which Nature has taken in
surrounding the opening bud with leaves,
prevail so much upon our Imagination,
that we behold the Form itself with more
delight in this situation, than afterwards,
when it assumes the more general Form of
Delicacy. It is on a similar account that
the leaves of Vegetables form a very com-
mon, and a very beautiful Decoration,
though they are less distinguished by wind-
ing Lines, than almost any other part of
the plants. There are an infinite number
of the feebler Vegetables, and many of the
common Grasses, the l'orms of which are
362 subLIMITY AND BEAUTY
altogether distinguished by Angles and
straight Lines, and where there is not a
single Curvature through the whole, yet all
of which are beautiful, and of which also
some are imitated in different ornamental
Forms with excellent effect, merely from the
Fineness and Delicacy of their Texture;
which is so very striking, that they never
fail, when we attend to them, to afford us
that sentiment of interest and tenderness,
which in general we receive from the oppo-
site Form. There are few things in the
Vegetable World more beautiful than the
knotted and angular stem of the Balsam ;
merely from its singular transparency; which
it is impossible to look at, without a strong
impression of the Fineness and Delicacy of
the Vegetable. Such observations with re-
gard to Flowers or Plants, every person has
it in his power to pursue. There is not,
perhaps, any individual of this Kingdom,
which, if it is remarkable for its Delicacy or
Tenderness, is not also considered as beau-
of THE MATE RIAL WORLD. 363
tiful in its Form, whether that Form be
winding or angular.
It deserves also to be remarked, that the
Form of the great constituent parts of all
Vegetables, whether strong or delicate, is
nearly the same; the growth of the stem
and the direction of the branches being in
both alike, and in both also either in
straight or in angular Lines. It is princi-
pally in the more delicate parts of the first,
in the young Shoots, and in the Foliage,
that they deviate from this Form, and as-
sume winding or curvilinear directions. It
is in these parts only, as I have before ob-
served, that we discover beautiful Forms.
In the class of feeble or delicate Plants, on
the contrary, the Forms which we neglect
in the first, are regarded as beautiful, be-
cause they have that expression which is
found only in the opposite Forms of the
other. The same Form has thus a different
effect from the difference of its expression;
and the straight Lines and angular Junc-
364 SUBLIMIT'Y AND BEAUTY
tions, which are merely indifferent in the
Elm and the Oak, are beheld with delight
in the Plant or the Flower, when we are
convinced that they are accompanied with
Tenderness and Delicacy.
In many of those Arts, where the Beau-
ty of Form is chiefly consulted, the same
circumstance is observable. In all of them,
the Beauty of Form is principally deter-
mined by its expression of Delicacy; but
as, in many of them, the curvilinear Form is
necessarily less expressive of this quality
than the angular one, it is accordingly less
beautiful, -
In the manufacture of Glass, for instance,
the great Beauty of the Form is in propor-
tion to this expression. Nothing is less
beautiful than thick and massy Glass,
which, from its quantity, seems intended to
compensate for its Fragility. Nothing, on
the contrary, is more generally beautiful,
than thin and transparent Glass, which,
from experience, we know to be the most
of THE MATERTAI, WoRLD. S65
decisive sign of its Delicacy and Weakness.
In such a manufacture, winding Lines can-
not be observed without necessarily increas-
ing the quantity and thickness of the ma-
terial, and of consequence diminishing its
Fineness and Transparency. Such Forms,
accordingly, are less beautiful than those
composed of more direct and angular Lines,
which, while they admit of greater transpa-
rency, express also greater delicacy and fine-
ness. To take a very common instance.
The stalk of a wine Glass might with equal
ease be fashioned into serpentine of winding
Forms, as into the angular compartments
in which we generally find it; yet I am
much deceived if it would be nearly as
beautiful, because these Lines could not ad-
mit of that apparent fineness of surface, or
transparency of matter, which is obtained
by its angular Divisions. In a Lustre, in
the same manner, one of the most beautiful
productions of this manufacture, all is an–
gular. The Form of the Prism, one of the
366 sublimity AND BEAUTY
most regular and angular of all FOrms, ob-
tains everywhere; the Festoons even are
angular; and, instead of any winding or
waving Line, the whole surface is broken
into a thousand little Triangles: yet I con-
ceive no person will deny its Beauty. A
Lustre, on the other hand, composed of the
most beautiful Curves, and studiously varied
into the most waving surface, would not be
nearly so beautiful; because the necessary
thickness which it would give to the Glass,
would, in this case, be expressive of Strength
and of Solidity, instead of Delicacy; and
would diminish altogether that fine Trans-
parency, which, in this manufacture, is im-
mediately the sign of Tenderness and Fra-
gility.
The same observation will apply to the
manufacture of Steel, or any other of the
Metals. The greatest expression of Deli-
cacy which a hard substance like Steel can
receive, is from the Fineness and Brilliancy
of its surface. It demands, of consequence,
of THE MATERIAL world. 367
angular Forms, which, by admitting great-
er perfection of polish, or, at least, by dis-
playing it better, are more beautiful than
Curves, which require both greater solidity
and have less brilliancy. A sword Hilt, or
a watch Chain, are infinitely finer and more
beautiful, when they are composed of angu-
lar Forms, than when they are composed
of Curves. In the Forms which are given
to Jewels, the same rule universally obtains.
The delicacy of such subjects is in their
Brilliancy. The only Form therefore that
is beautiful in them, is that which displays
it. * , ,
There is no object of this kind, in which
Beauty of Form is more generally consult-
ed, or indeed more generally found, than in
the different articles of household Furniture.
Such objects, by being composed of the
uniform material of Wood, and that a hard
and durable one, admit of little difference
in point of Delicacy, but in the Quantity,
or in the Form which is given to this Ma-
368 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
terial. With regard to the first, all Furni-
ture, I apprehend, is Beautiful in propor-
tion to the smallness of its quantity of Mat-
ter, or the Fineness or Delicacy of the parts
of it. Strong and Massy Furniture is every-
where vulgar and unpleasing; and though,
in point of utility, we pardon it in general
use, yet wherever we expect Elegance or
Beauty, we naturally look for Fineness and
Delicacy in it. The actual Progress of
Taste in this Article is from Strength to
Delicacy. The first articles of Furniture in
every country are strong and substantial.
As Taste improves, and as it is found that
Beauty, as well as Utility, may be consult-
ed in such subjects, their strength and soli-
dity are gradually diminished, until at last,
by successive improvement, the progress
terminates in that last Degree of Delicacy,
and even of Fragility, which is consistent
either with the nature of the Workmanship
or the preservation of the Subject. -
In this progress it is discovered, that
OF THE MATERIAL WORLD. 360
where the material which is employed is
hard and durable, the greatest delicacy
which can be given to the Form, is rather
in the use of direct and angular Lines, than
in winding and serpentine ones; and chief-
ly from the reason I have before mentioned,
that Curves cannot be employed without a
proportionable and very obvious increase
of Solidity, and by these means destroying
in a great measure the expression of Deli-
cacy. Whoever will look into any of those
books, which have made us acquainted with
the Forms of Grecian or Roman Furniture,
in their periods of cultivated Taste, will per-
ceive, accordingly, that in scarcely any of
them is the winding or serpentine Form
observed; and that, on the contrary, the
lightest and most beautiful of them, are al-
most universally distinguished by straight
or angular Lines, and by the utmost pos-
sible diminution of Solidity, that is consist-
ent either with convenience or use. What
is there, for instance, more beautiful in this
VO I, I, C C
370 stſ BLIMITY AND BEAUTY
kind, than the Form of the ancient Tripod,
in the best periods of Roman Taste? The
feet gradually lessening to the end, and
converging as they approach it; the plane
of the table placed, with little ornament,
nearly at right angles to the feet; and the
whole appearing to form an imperfect
triangle, whose base is above. There is
scarcely, in such a subject, a possibility of
contriving a more angular Form, yet there
can be none more completely beautiful: be-
cause this Form itself is more immediate-
ly expressive of Delicacy, than almost any
other which could have been imagined:
the slightness of the whole fabric, the de-
creasing proportion of the feet as they de-
scend to the ground, the convergence of the
feet themselves, and the narrowness of the
base for the superstructure, expressing not
only the utmost degree of Delicacy that is
consistent with use, but impressing us also
with the further conviction of the necessity
of approaching or handling it with tender-
OF THE MATE RIA I, W G R L D. 371
ness, for fear of destroying its slight Stabi-
lity. From this elegant Model, accordingly,
or from others, in which the same principle
obtains, the greater part of the most beauti-
ful articles of Modern Furniture are imi-
tated. It is the Form which prevails in
the construction of Chairs, Tables, Sofas,
Beds, &c.; and it is the Delicacy which it
so well expresses, that bestows upon them
the greater part of their Beauty. The ap-
plication of winding or serpentine Lines, or
of the more general Form of Beauty, would
tend only to diminish their effect, by be-
stowing upon them the appearance of a
greater degree of Solidity, and thus lessen-
ing, instead of increasing, the expression
which is the cause of this effect.
In the course of these observations, the
Reader will observe, that I have all along
gone upon the supposition, that there is in
reality only one species of winding or cur-
vilinear Form; and that I have confined
my observations upon their expression to
372 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY
this general character of Form. Every one
knows, however, that such Forms admit of
great variety, and that the number of dif-
ferent curvatures that may be produced are
almost infinite. Whoever then will take
the trouble of pursuing this investigation,
may, I think, easily satisfy himself, that
among these, there is none uniformly and
permanently beautiful; that the same Curve
which is beautiful in one case, is very often
not beautiful in others; and that in all cases
that curvature is the most beautiful, which
is most fully expressive of Delicacy or
Ease in the subject which it distinguishes.
As Forms of this kind differ also in the
number, as well as in the nature of their
curvatures, he will perceive also, that the
same dependence upon their expressions
continues; that the same number of curva-
tures or windings which are beautiful in one
subject, are not beautiful in others; and
that whenever in any subject the number
of windings exceeds our opinion of Ease or
or THE MATERIAL world. 373
Facility, it from that period becomes un-
pleasing, and expressive only of Force or
Constraint. The limits which I must pre-
scribe to myself in these observations, ob-
lige me, in this, as in every other part of
them, to refer much of the illustration which
might be produced, to the reader's own re-
flection and investigation.
If the observations which I have now of.
fered on the Natural Beauty of Forms, or
that Beauty which arises from the consider-
ation of Form itself, be just, we may per-
haps, without much impropriety, rest in the
following conclusions on the subject.
1. That the Beauty of such Forms arises
from the qualities of Fineness, Delicacy, or
Ease, of which they are expressive.
2. That in every subject, that Form (whe-
ther angular or curvilinear) which is most
expressive of these qualities, is the most
beautiful Form. And,
3. That, in general, the curvilinear or
374, subj,IMITY AND BEAUTY
winding Form, as most frequently expressive
of these qualities, is the most beautiful.
With regard also to those Arts which are
employed in the imitation or invention of
ornamental Forms, the following observa-
tions may not be without their use.
1. That wherever natural forms are imi-
tated, those will be the most beautiful,
which are most expressive of delicacy and
CaSe. -
2. That wherever new or arbitrary forms
are invented, that form will be the most beau-
tiful which is composed by the most beauti-
ful lines; or, in other words, by lines which
have the most pleasing expression. And,
3. That wherever the subject of the form
is of a hard or durable nature, that form
will be the most beautiful, in which the
smallest quantity of matter is employed,
and the greatest delicacy of execution ex-
erted. -
The truth of these remarks I leave al-
together to be determined by the observa-
of THE MATF RIAL wor LD. 375
tion of the reader. I shall only observe,
that, in the prosecution of this Inquiry, it is
necessary to leave out of consideration every
circumstance of design, of fitness, or of uti-
lity, and to consider forms in the light only
of their appearance to the eye, without any
relation either to an author or an end. These
relations (as will be shown afterwards) are
the foundation of a distinct species of Beauty,
to which the principles of their natural Beau-
ty do not apply.
Although, however, I have thus been led
to conclusions different from those of Mr
Hogarth, yet it is but justice to a perform-
ance of uncommon ingenuity, to acknow-
ledge, that the principle which he has en-
deavoured to establish in his Analysis of
Beauty, is perhaps, of all others, the justest
and best founded principle which has as
yet been maintained, in the investigation of
the natural Beauty of Forms. The instances
which I have produced, and many others
of the same kind that will probably occur
376 SUBLIMITY AND BEAUTY, &c.
to every man of reflection, seem to me very
strongly to show, that the principle of the
absolute Beauty of Serpentine Forms is to
be considered only as a general principle,
subject to many exceptions; and that not
only this form is beautiful, from being the
sign of particular interesting and affecting
qualities, but that in fact, also, forms of the
contrary kind are likewise beautiful, when
they are expressive of the same qualities.
END OF THE FIRST VOLU VIf...,
Printed by J. Hutchison,
for the Heirs of I). Willison.
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
GRADUATE LIBRARY
DATE DUE
*** ... -
Form 9584
s
t
3.










ſae