HE next property conſtantly ob- ſervable in ſuch objects is * Smoothneſs. A quality fo eſſential to beauty, that I do not now recolle& any thing beautiful that is not ſmooth. In trees and flowers, ſmooth leaves are beautiful; ſmooth ſlopes of earth in gardens; ſmooth ſtreams in the landſcape; ſmooth coats of birds and beaſts in animal beauties; in fine women, ſmooth ſkins; and in ſeveral forts of ornamental furniture, ſmooth and poliſhed ſurfaces. A ver conſiderable part of the effect of beauty is owing to this quality; indeed the moſt conſiderable.: For take any beautiful object, and give it a broken and rugged | ſurface, and however well formed it may be in other- e it n no 5 49 lopger.
214 On the SUBLIME longer. Whereas let it want ever fo many of the other conſtituents, if it wants not this, it becomes more pleaſing than. almoſt all the others without it. This ſeems to me ſo evident, that I am a good deal ſurpriſed, that none who have handled the ſubje& have made any mention of the quality of ſmoothneſs in the enumeration of thoſe that go to the forming of beauty. For indeed any ruggedneſs, any ſudden projection, any ſharp angle, is in the higheſt W cone to * e | are not compoſed of angular parts.
0 their parts never continue long in the fame right line. + They vary their direction every moment, * yup of | SIR change under the eye by a deviation continually carrying on, but for whoſe beginning or end you will find it difficult to. aſcertain a point. The view of a beautiful bird will illuſtrate this ob-ſervation. Here we ſee the head increaſing inſenſibly to the middle, from whence it leſſens gradually until it mixes with the neck; the neck loſes itſelf in a larger ſwell, which continues to the middle of the body, when the whole de-- creaſes again to the tail; the tail takes a new direction; but it ſoon varies its new courſe; it blends again with the other parts; and the line is perpetually changing, above, below, upon every ſide. In this deſcription I have before me the idea of a dove; it agrees very well with moſt] of the conditions of beauty. It is ſmooth and downy; its parts are (to uſe that expreſſion) | melted into one another; you are preſented with no ſudden protuberance through the elt, and yet the whole is conti- RED ©. < nually 216 On the SUBLIME nually changing. Obſerve that part of a beautiful woman where ſhe is perhaps the moſt beautiful, about the neck and breaſts; the ſmoothneſs; the ſoftneſs; the eaſy and inſenſible ſwell; the variety of the ſurface, which is never for the ſmalleſt ſpace the ſame; the deceitful maze, through which the unſteady eye ſlides giddily, without knowin g where to fix, or whither it is carried. Is not this a demonſtration of that change of ſurface continual and yet hardly perceptible at any point which forms one of the great conſtituents of beauty? It gives me no ſmall pleaſure to find that I can ſtrengthen my theory in this point, by the opinion of the very ingenious Mr. Hogarth; whoſe idea of the line of beauty I take in general to be extremely juſt. But the idea of variation, without attending fo accurately to the manner of the variation, has led him to conſider angular figures as beautiful; theſe figures, it is true, vary greatly; yet they enn 4 vary vary in a ſudden and broken manner; and I do not find any natural object which is angular, and at the ſame time beautiful. Indeed few natural objects are entirely angular. But I think thoſe which approach the moſt nearly to it, are the uglieſt. I muſt add too, that, fo far as T could ob- ſerve of nature, though the varied line is that alone in which complete beauty is found, yet there is no particular line which is always found in the moſt completely beautiful; and which is therefore beautiful in preference to all other lines. At leaſt I never could obſerve it..
F 218 On the SUBLIME LIT DELICACY.
N BY of robuſtneſs and frength "A. i very prejudicial to beauty. An appearance of delicacy, and even of fragility, is almoſt eſſential to it. Whoever examines the vegetable or animal creation, will find this obſervation to be founded in nature. It is not the oak, buſt trees of the foreſt, which we con-ſider as beautiful; they are awful and majeſtic; they inſpire a ſort of reverence. It is the delicate myrtle, it is the orange, it is the almond, it is the jeſſamine, it is the vine, which we look 5 on as vegetable beauties. It is the flowery ſpecies, ſo remarkable for its weakneſs and momentary duration, that gives us the livelieſt idea of beauty, and elegance. Among animals; the greyhound is more beautiful than the maſtiff; and the delicacy of a gennet, a barb,.or an Arabian horſe, is much more amiable than the ſtrength and ſtability of ſome horſes of war or carriage. I need here fay little of the fair ſex, where I believe the point will be eaſily allowed me. The beauty of women is conſiderably owing to their weakneſs, or delicacy, and 1s even enhanced by their timidity, a quality of mind analogous to it. I would not here be underſtood to fay,. that weakneſs betraying very bad health has any ſhare in beauty; but the ill effe& of this is not becauſe it is weak- -nefs, but becauſe the ill ſtate of health which produces ſuch weakneſs alters the - other conditions of beauty; the parts in tach a caſe collapſe; the bright colour, the lumen purpureum juventæ is gone; and the fine variation is loſt in wrinkles, ſudden breaks, and right lines. ü Zo On che SUBLIME 5 S CT. XVE: Beauty in COLOUR.
5 A S to the colours uſually found in beautiful bodies; it may be ſomewhat difficult to aſcertain them, becauſe in the ſeveral parts of nature, there is an infinite variety. However, even in this variety, we may mark out ſomething on which to ſettle. Firſt, the colours of beautiful bodies muſt not be duſky or muddy, but clean and fair. Secondly, they muſt not be of the ſtrongeſt kind. Thoſe which ſeem moſt appropriated to beauty, are the milder of every ſort; light greens; ſoft blues; weak whites; pink reds; and violets. Thirdly, if the colours be ſtrong and vivid, they are always diverſified, and the object is never of one ſtrong colour; there are almoſt always ſuch a number of them (as in variegated flowers) that the *: ſtrength ſtrength and glare of each is conſiderably abated. In a fine complexion, there is not only ſome variety in the colouring, but the colours, neither the red nor the white are ſtrong and glaring. Beſides, they are mixed in ſuch a manner, and with ſuch gradations, that it is impoſſible to fix the bounds. On the fame principle it is, that the dubious colour in the necks and tails of peacocks, and about the heads of drakes, is ſo very agreeable. In reality, the beauty both of ſhape and colouring are as nearly related, as we can well ſuppoſe it poſſible for things of ſuch different natures to be. | 222 On the SUBLIME SECT. XVIII. RECAPITULATION.
N the whole, the qualities "I beauty, as they are merely ſenſible qualities, are the following. Firſt, to be comparatively ſmall. Secondly, to be ſmooth. Thirdly, to have a variety in the direction of the parts; but fourthly, to have thoſe parts not angular, but melted as it were into each other. Fifthly, to be of a delicate frame, without any remarkable appearance of ſtrength. Sixthly, to have its colours clear and bright; but not very ſtrong and glaring. Seventhly, or if it ſhould have any glaring colour, to have it diverſified with others. Theſe are, I believe, the properties on which beauty depends; properties that operate by nature, and are leſs liable to be altered by caprice, or COn-— confounded by a diverſity of n than any others.
SE C T. XIX. The PHY SIOGNO MV.
HE Phyfognomy has a conſiderable ſhare in beauty, eſpecially in that of our own ſpecies. The manners give a certain determination to the coun» tenance, which being obſerved to correſpond pretty regularly with them, is capable of joining the effect of certain agreeable qualities of the mind to thoſe of the body. So that to form a finiſhed human beauty, and to give it its full influence, the face muſt be expreſſive of ſuch gentle and amiable qualities, as correſpond with the ſoftneſs, ſmoothneſs; and delicacy of the outward form.
SE CF 224 On che SUBLIME s E C T. XX. The EM E. HAVE hitherto purpoſely omitted A. to ſpeak of the Eye, which has fo great a ſhare in the beauty of the animal creation, as it did not fall fo eaſily under the foregoing heads, though in fact it is reducible to the ſame principles.
Ickhink then, chat the beauty of the eye conſiſts, firſt, in its clear neſe; what cohured eye ſhall pleaſe, moſt, depends a good deal on particular fancies; but none are pleaſed with an eye, whoſe water (to uſe that term) is dull and muddy. * We are pleaſed with the eye in this view, on the principle upon which we like diamonds, clear water, glaſs, and ſuch like tranſparent ſubſtances. Secondly, the motion of the eye contributes to its beauty, by continually ſhifting its di- Part 4. ſect. 25. | 7 rection; rection; but a ſlow and languid motion is more beautiful than a briſk one; the latter is enlivening; the former lovely. Thirdly, with regard to the union of the eye with the neighbouring parts, it is to hold the ſame rule that is given of other beautiful ones; it is not to make à ſtrong deviation from the line of the neighbouring parts; nor to verge into any exact geometrical figure. Beſides all this, the eye affects, as it is expreſſive of ſome qualities of the mind, and its principal power generally ariſes from this; ſo that what we have juſt ſaid of the Phyſiognomy 1s 720 here.
SE CT. XXI. UGLINESS, 1 1＋ may bs appear like a fort of repetition of what we have before aid, to infiſt here upon the nature of Uglmeſs. As J imagine it to be in all re- 5 Q. ſpects 226 On the SUBLIME ſpects the oppoſite to thoſe qualities which we have laid down for the con- ſtituents of beauty. But though uglineſs be the oppoſite to beauty, it is not the oppoſite to proportion and fitneſs. For it is poſſible that a thing may be very ugly with any proportions, and with a perfect fitneſs to any uſes. Uglineſs I imagine likewiſe to be conſiſtent enough with an idea of the ſublime. But I would by no means infinuate that uglineſs of itſelf is a ſublime idea, unleſs united with ſuch qualities as excite a ſtrong terror. es toy [4 I SECT. XXII.
GRACE.
G Focefulnef is an idea not very different from beauty; it conſiſts in much the ſame things. Gracefulneſs is an idea belonging to poſture and motion. In both theſe, to be graceful, it is requi- ſite ind BEAUTIFUL. 227 fite that there be no appearance of diffi» culty; there is required a ſmall inflexion of the body; and a compoſure of the | parts, in ſuch a manner, as not to in- = cumber each other, nor to appear divi- | ded by ſharp. and ſudden angles. In this eaſe, this roundneſs, this delicacy of attitude and motion, it is that all the magic of grace conſiſts, and what is called its je ne ſcai quoi; as will be obvious to any obſerver who conſiders attentively the Venus de Medicis, the Antinous, or any ſtatue generally allows ed to be graceful in an high degree.
8 EC T. XXL ELEGANCE and SPECIOUSNESS.
WEE any bony is compoſed of parts ſmooth and poliſhed, without preſſing upon each other, without ſhewing any ruggedneſs or confuſion, and at the ſame time affecting ſome re- K gular 228 On the SUBLIME gular ſhape, I call it elegant. It is cloſeby allied to the beautiful, differing; from it only in this regwlarity; which however, as' it makes a very material difference, in the affection produced, may very well conſtitute another ſpecies. Under this head I rank thoſe delicate and regular works of art, that imitate no determinate object in nature, as elegant buildin gs, and pieces of furniture. When any object partakes of the abovementioned qualities, or of thoſe of beautiful | bodies, and is withal of great dimenfions; it is full as remote from the idea of mere beauty. I call it ine or ſpe- F10US.
S ECT. XXIV.
The beautiful in FEE LI NG.
HE foregoing deſcription of beauty, ſo far as is taken in by the eye, may be greatly illuſtrated by deſcribing | the nature of objects, which produce a ſimilar effect through the touch. This I call the beautiful in Feeling. It corre- {ponds wonderfully with what cauſes the ſame ſpecies of pleaſure to the fight. There is a chain in all our ſenſations; they are all but different ſorts of feeling, calculated to be affected by various ſorts of objects, but all to be affected after the ſame manner. All bodies that are pleaſant to the touch, are ſo by the ſlightneſs of the reſiſtance they make. Reſiſtance is either to motion along the furface, or to the preſſure of the parts on one another; if the former be ſlight, we call the body, ſmooth; if the latter, .
230 On the SUBLIME ſoft. The chief pleaſure we receive by feeling, is in the one or the other of theſe qualities; and if there be a combination of both, our pleaſure i is greatly increaſed. This is ſo plain, that it is rather more fit to illuſtrate other things, than to be illuſtrated itſelf by any example. The next ſource of pleaſure i in this ſenſe, as in every other, is the continually preſenting ſomewhat new; and we find that bodies which continually vary their ſurface, are much the moſt pleaſant, ar beautiful, to the feeling, as any one that pleaſes may experience. The third property in ſuch objects is, that thaugh the ſurface continually vanes its direction, it never varies it ſuddenly, The application of. any thing ſudden, even though the impreſſion it-ſelf have little or nothing of violence, 1s diſagreeable. The quick application of a finger a little warmer or colder than uſual, without notice, makes us ſtart; a Ni ht tap on the ſhoulder, not expect- — ed, has the ſame effect. Hence it is that angular bodies, bodies that ſuddenly vary the direction of the outline, afford ſo little pleaſure to the feeling. Every ſuch change is a ſort of climbing or falling in miniature; ſo that ſquares, triangles, and other angular figures, are neither beautiful to the ſight nor feeling. Whoever compares his Nate of mind, on feeling ſoft, ſmooth, variated, unangular bodies, with that in- which he finds himſelf, on the view of a beautiful object, will perceive a very ſtriking analogy in the effects of both; and which may go a good way towards diſcovering their common cauſe. Feeling and fight | in this reſpect, differ in but a few points.
The touch takes in the pleaſure of ſoftneſs, which is not primarily an object of ſight; the fight on the pther hand comprehends colour, which can hardly be made perceptible to the touch; the touch again has the advantage in a new idea of A reſulting from a modews rate 232 On the SUBLIME rate degree of warmth; but the eye triumphs in the infinite extent and multiplicity of its objects. But there is ſuch a ſimilitude in the pleaſures of theſe ſenſes, that I am apt to fancy, if it were poſſible that ane might diſcern colour by teeling, (as it is ſaid ſome blind men have done) that the fame colours, and the ſame diſpoſition of colouring, which are found beautiful to the fight, would be found likewiſe moſt grateful to the touch. But ſetting aſide conjectures, let us paſs to the other ſenſe; of hearing.
s E CT. XXV. The beautiful in SOUNDS, IN this ſenſe we find an equal apti- - tude to be affected in a ſoft and delicate manner; and how far ſweet or beautiful ſounds agree with our de-{criptions of beauty in other ſenſes, the experience of every one muſt decide. 3 Milton Milton has deſcribed this ſpecies of mufic in one of his juvenile poems.“ 1 need not ſay that Milton was perfectly well verſed in that art; and that no man had a finer ear, with a happier manner of expreſſing the affections of one ſenſe by metaphors taken from another. mp deſcription is as follows, And ever againſt eating cares, Lap me in ſoft Lydian airs; In notes with many a winding bout * Of linked ſweetneſs long drawn out; With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running; Untwiſting all the chains that ye | The hidden foul of harmony. | | Let us parallel this with the ſoftneſs, the winding ſurface, the unbroken continuance, the eaſy gradation of the beautiful in other ous. ol; and all the diverſi- * II alle» Sro.
* ties it [ {1 y; 234 On the SUBLIME ties of the ſeveral ſenſes, with all their ſeveral affections, will rather help to throw lights from one another to finiſh one clear, conſiſtent idea of the whole, than to obſcure it by their intricacy and variety.
To the 8 deſcription I ſhall add one or two remarks. The firſt is; that the beautiful in muſic will not bear that loudneſs and ſtrength of ſounds, which may be uſed to raiſe other paſſions; nor notes, which are ſhrill, or harſh, or deep; it agrees beſt with ſuch as are clear, even, ſmooth, and weak. The ſecond is; that great variety, and quick tranſitions from one meaſure or tone to another, are contrary to the genius of the beautiful in muſic. Such + tranſitions often excite mirth, or other ſudden and tumultuous paſſions; but not that linking, that melting, that languor, which is the characteriſtical effect of the + I neer am merry, when I hear ſweet muſic. SHAKESPEAR.
k beau» and BEAUTIFUL. 23g beautiful, as it regards every ſenſe. The paſſion excited by beauty is in fact nearer to a ſpecies of melancholy, than to jollity and mirth. I do not here mean to confine muſic to any one ſpecies of notes, or tones, neither 1 is it an art in which I can fay I have any great ſkill. My fole deſign, in this remark is, to ſettle a conſiſtent idea of beauty. The infinite variety of the affections of the ſoul will ſuggeſt to a good head, and ſkilful ear, a variety of ſuch ſounds, as are fitted to raiſe them. It can be no prejudice to this, to clear and diſtinguiſh ſome few particulars, that belong to the ſame claſs, and are conſiſtent with each other, from the immenſe croud of different, | and ſometimes contradictory ideas, that rank vulgarly under the ſtandard of beauty. And of theſe it is my intention to mark ſuch only of the leading points as ſhew the conformity of the ſenſe of hearing, with all the other ſenſes in the article of their pleaſures.
SECT, 236 On the SUBLIME ST OT Nei. TASTE and SMELL.
HIS general agreement of the 2K fenſes is yet more evident on minutely conſidering thoſe of taſte and ſmell. We metaphorically apply the idea of ſweetneſs to fights, and ſounds; but as the qualities of bodies by which they are fitted to excite either pleaſure or pain in theſe ſenſes, are not ſo obvious as they are in the others, we ſhall refer an explanation of their analogy, which 1s a very cloſe one, to that part, wherein we come to conſider the common efficient cauſe of beauty as it regards all the ſenſes. I do not think any thing better fitted to eſtabliſh a clear and ſettled idea of viſual beauty, than this way of examining the fimilar pleaſures of other ſenſes; for one part is ſometimes clear in one of the ſenſes, that 1s 4 more more obſcure in another; and where there is a clear concurrence of all, we may with more certainty ſpeak of any one of them. By this means, they bear witneſs to each other; nature is, as it were, ſcrutinized; and we report nothing of her, but what we receive from her o own information.
8 E c T. XXVII.
The Sublime and Beautiful compared, | N yg this —__ view of beauty, it naturally occurs, that we ſhould compare it with the ſublime; and in this compariſon there appears a remarkable contraſt. For ſublime ohjects are vaſt in their dimenſions, beautiful ones comparatively ſmall; beauty ſhould be ſmooth, and poliſhed; the great, rugged and negligent; beauty ſhould ſhun: the right line, yet deviate from it inſenſibly; the great in many caſes 238 On the SUBLIME eaſes loves the right line, and when it deviates, it often makes a ſtrong deviation; beauty ſhould not be obſcure; the great ought to be dark and gloomy; beauty ſhould be light and delicate; the great ought to be ſolid; and even maſfive. They are indeed ideas of a very different nature, one being founded on pain, the other on pleaſure; and however they may vary afterwards from the direct nature of their cauſes, yet theſe cauſes keep up an eternal diſtinction between them, a diſtinction never to be forgotten by any whoſe buſineſs it is to affect the paſſions. In the infinite vatiety of natural combinations we muſt expect to find the qualities of things the moſt remote imaginable from each other united in the fame object. We muſt expect alſo to find combinations of the ſame kind in the works of art. But when we conſider the power of an object upon our paſſions, we muſt know that when any thing is intended to affect the mind by the force of ſome predominant property, the affection produced is like to be the more uniform and perfect, if all the other properties or qualities of the object be of the fame nature, and tending to the ſame deſign as the principal; If black, and white blend, ſoften, and unite, A thouſand ways, are there no black and white?
If the qualities of the ſublime and beautiful are ſometimes found united, does this prove, that they are the ſame, does it prove, that they are any way allied, does it prove even that they are not oppolite and contradictory? Black and white may ſoften, may blend, but they --are not therefore the ſame. Nor when they are ſo ſoftened and blended with each other, or with different colours, is the power of black as black, or of white as white, ſo ſtrong as when each ſtands The end of the Third Part.
— _— ap of 1 .
—— x tl Philoſophical Enquiry "IT THR” OrIGiN of our LC TEES SUBLIME and BrauUTIFUL. eat Pe Iv.
Of the efficient Cult of the SUBLIME into the efficient cauſe of ſublimity and beauty, I would not be des to ſay, that I can come to the ultimate cauſe. I do not pretend that I ſhall ever be able to explain, why certain affections of the body produce R ſuch HEN I fay, I intend to enquire 242 On the SUBEIME ſach a diſtin& emotion of mind, and no other; or why the body is at all affected by the mind, or the mind by the body. A little thought will ſhew this to be impoſſible. But I conceive, if we can diſcover what affections of the mind produce certain emotions of the body-; and what diſtin& feelings and qualities of body ſhall produce certain determinate paſſions in the mind, and no others, I fancy a great deal will be done; ſomething not unuſeful towards a diſtinct knowledge of our paſſions, ſo far at leaſt as we have them at preſent under our conſideration. This is all, I believe, we can do. If we could advance a ſtep farther, difficulties would ſtill remain, as we ſhould be ſtill equally diſtant from the firſt cauſe. When Newton firſt difgovered the property of attraction, and ſettled its laws, he found it ſerved very well to explain ſeveral of the moſt remarkable phenomena in nature; but yet with reference to e 8 * of things, he could conſider confider attraction but as an effect, whoſe cauſe at that time he did not attempt to trace. But when he afterwards began to account for it by a ſubtle elaſtic zther, this great man (if in fo great a man it be not impious to diſcover any thing like a blemiſh) ſeemed to have quitted his uſual cautious manner of philoſophiſing; ſince, perhaps, allowing all that has been advanced on this ſubject to be ſufficiently proyed, I think it leaves us with as many difficulties as it found us. That great chain of cauſes, which linking one to another even to the throne of God him-ſelf, can never be unravelled by any induſtry of ours. When we go but one ſtep beyond the immediately ſenſible qualities of things, we go out of our depth. All we do after, is but a faint ſtruggle, that ſhews we are in an element which does: not belong to us. So that when I ſpeak of cauſe, and efficient cauſe, I only mean, certain affections of the mind, that a n changes in the body; or R2 certain il TH iy if { — «. CCI DI # 244 On the SUBLIME certain powers and properties in bodies, that work a change in the mind. As if I were to explain the motion of a body falling to the ground, I would ſay it was cauſed by gravity, and I would endeavour to ſhew after what manner this power operated, without attempting to ſhew why it operated in this manner; or if 1 were to explain the effects of bodies ſtriking one another by the common laws of percuſſion, I ſhould not endeavour to explain how motion itſelf is communi- FRO” Tas x Er. II.
ö O IAT 10 N.
TT is e ne bot bn the way af: 6 our enquiry into the cauſe of our paſſions, that the occaſion of many of them are given, and that their governing motions are communicated at a time when we have not capacity to e on them; at 8 8 1 de time a time of which all ſort of memory is worn out of our minds. For beſides ſuch things as affect us in various manners according to their natural powers, there are aſſociations made at that early ſeaſon, which we find it very hard afterwards to _ diſtinguiſh from natural effects. Not to mention the unaccountable antipathies which we find in many perſons, we all find it impoſſible to remember when a ſteep became more terrible than a plain; or fire or water more dreadful than a clod of earth; though all theſe are very probably either concluſions from experience, or ariſing from the premonitions of others; and ſome of them impreſſed, in all likelihood, pretty late. But as it muſt be allowed that many things affect us after a certain manner, not by any natural powers they have for that purpoſe, but by aſſociation; ſo it would be abſurd on the other hand, to ſay that all things affect muſt have been originally and naturally "M4" agreeable 246 On the SUBLIME agrecable or diſagreeable, from which the others derive their aſſociated powers; and it would be, I fancy, to little purpoſe to look for the cauſe of our paſſions in aſſociation, until we fail of it in the natural properties of things.
SA r. Gb er PAIN and FE AR.
Have before obſerved, * that whatever is qualified to cauſe terror, is a foundation capable of the ſublime; to which I add, that not only theſe, but many things from which we cannot probably apprehend any danger have a ſimilar effea, becauſe they operate in a fimilar manner. I obſerved too, that I whatever produces pleaſure, poſitive and original pleaſure, is fit to have beauty ennature of theſe dente, it may be neceſſary to explain the nature of pain and pleaſure on which they depend. A man who ſuffers under violent bodily pain; (I ſuppoſe the moſt violent, becauſe the effect may be the more obvious.) I ſay a man in great pain has his teeth ſet, his eye-brows are violently contracted, His forchead is wrinkled, his eyes are _ dragged inwards, and rolled with great vehemence, his hair ſtands an end, the voice/is forced out in ſhort ſhrieks and groans, and the whole fabric totters. Fear or terror, which is an apprehenfion of pain or death, exhibits exactly the ſame effects, approaching in violence to thoſe juſt mentioned in proportion to the nearneſs of the cauſe, and the weak -neſs of the ſubject. This is not only ſo in the human ſpecies, but I have more than once obſerved in dogs, under an apprehenſion of puniſhment, that they have writhed their bodies, and yelped, and howled, as if they had actually Flt the blows. From hence I conclude 5 R 4 that 248 On the SUBLIME that pain, and fear, act upon the ſame parts of the body, and in the ſame manner, though ſomewhat differing in degree. That pain and fear conſiſt in an unnatural tenſion of the nerves; that this is ſometimes accompanied with an unnatural ſtrength, which ſometimes ſuddenly changes into an extraordinary weakneſs; that theſe effects often come on alternately, and are ſometimes mixed with each other. This is the nature of all convulſive agitations, eſpecially in weaker ſubjects, which are the moſt liable to the ſevereſt impreſſions of pain and fear. The only difference between pain and terror, is, that things which cauſe pain operate on the mind, by the intervention of the body; whereas things that cauſe terror generally affect the bodily organs by the operation of the mind ſuggeſting the danger; but both agreeing, either primarily, or ſecondarily, in producing a tenſion, contraction, or violent emotion of the b f nerves, nerves, they agree likewiſe in every thing elſe. For it appears very clearly to me, from this, as well as from many other examples, that when the body is diſpoſed, by any means. whatſoever, to ſuch emotions as it would acquire by the means of a certain paſſion; it will of itſelf excite ſomething very like * _ in te. mind.
Continued.
Continued.
O this purpoſe Mr. Spon, in his Recherches d'Antiquite, gives us a curious ſtory of the celebrated phy- ſiognomiſt Campanella; this man, it ſeems, had not only made very accurate *I do not here enter into the -queſtion Jebated | among phyſiologiſts, whether pain be the effect of a contraction, or a tenſion of the nerves. Either will ſerve my purpoſe; for by tenſion, I mean no more than a violent pulling of the fibres, which compoſe any muſcle or membrane, in whatever way this is one.
obſer- 250 On the SUBLIME obſervations on human faces, but was very expert in mimicking ſuch, as were any way remarkable. When he had a mind to penetrate into the inclinations of thoſe he had to deal with, he eompoſed his face, his geſture, and his Whole body, as nearly as he could into the exact ſimilitude of the perſon he intended to examine; and then carefully obſerved what turn of mind he ſeemed to acquire by this change. So that, ſays my author, he was able to enter into the diſpoſitions and thoughts of people, as effectually as if he had been changed into the very men. I have often ob-ſerved, that on mimicking the looks and geſtures, of angry, or placid, or frighted, or daring men, I have involuntarily found my mind turned to that paſſion whoſe appearance I endeavoured to imitate; nay, I am convinced it is hard to avoid it; though one | ſtrove to ſeparate the paſſion from its correſpondent ge-ſtures. Our minds and bodies are fo _ cloſely eloſely and intimately connected, that one is incapable of pain or pleaſure without the other. Campanella, of whom we have been ſpeaking; could fo abſtract his attention from any ſufferings of his body, that he was able to endure the rack itſelf without much pain; and in teffer pains, every body muſt Have oh-ſerved, that when we can employ our attention on any thing elſe, the pain has heen for a time ſuſpended; on the other hand, if by any means the body is indiſpoſed to perform ſuch geſtures, or to be ſtimulated into ſuch emotions as any paſſion uſually produces in it, that paſ-ſion itſelf never can ariſe, though its cauſe ſhould be never fo ſtrongly in action; though it ſhould be merely mental, and immediately affecting none of the ſenſes, As an opiate, or ſpirituous liquors ſhall ſuſpend the operation of grief, or fear, or anger, in ſpite of all our efforts to the contrary; and this a inducing. in the body a diſpoſition * 252 On the SUBLIME contrary to that which it receives from theſe * 8 Sele | How the Sublime is rained, A VING Senden terror as producing an unnatural tenſion and * violent emotions of the nerves; it eaſily follows, from what we have juſt ſaid, that whatever is fitted to produce ſuch a tenſion, muſt be productive of à paſſion ſimilar to terror *, and con- ſequently muſt be a ſource of the ſublime, though it ſhould have no idea of danger connected with it. So that little remains towards ſhewing the cauſe of the ſublime, but to ſhew that the inſtances we have given of it in the ſecond part, relate to ſuch things, as are fitted by nature to produce this ſort of tenſion, either by the pe operation of the ; » Part 2. ſect. Wo F mind mind or the body. With regard to ſuch things as affect by the aſſociated idea of danger, there can be no doubt but that they produce terror, and act by ſome modification of that paſſion; and that terror, when ſufficiently violent, raiſes the emotions of the body juſt mentioned, can as little be doubted. * But if the ſublime is built on terror, or ſome paſ-ſion like it, which has pain for its object; it is previouſſy proper to enquire how any ſpecies of delight can be derived from a cauſe ſo apparently contrary to it. I ſay, delight, becauſe, as I have often remarked, it is very evidently different in its cauſe, and in its own | nature, from actual and poſitive plea- „ 254 On the SUBLIME ul GRO VI.
i ben pain can be — delight JRQVIDENCE has l that a ſtate of reſt and inaction, —— it may flatter our indolence, ſhould be productive of many inconveniencies; that it ſhould generate weh diſorders, as may farce us to baye recourſe to ſome labour, as a thing abolutely requiſite to make us paſs our lives with tolerable ſatisfaction; for the nature of reſt is to ſuffer all the parts of eur bodies to fall into a relaxation, that not only difables the members from performing their functions, but takes away the vigorous tone of fibre which is requiſite for carrying on the natural and neceſſary ſecretions. At the ſame time, that in this languid inactive ſtate, the nerves are more liable to the moſt horrid convulſions, than when they are ſuf- FF © ar ks ficiently ficiently braced and ſtrengthened. Melancholy, dejection, deſpair and often ſell⸗ murder, is the conſequence of the gloomy view we take of things in this relaxed ſtate of body. The beſt remedy for all theſe evils is exerciſe or /abour; and labour is a furmounting of difficulties, an exertion of the contracting power of che muſcles; and as ſuch reſembles pain, which conſiſts in tenſion or contraction, in every thing but degree. Labour is not only requiſite to preſerve the coarſer organs in a ſtate fit for their functions, but it is equally neceſſary to theſe finer and more delicate organs, on which, and by which, the imagination, and perhaps the other mental powers act. Since 5