298 On the SUBLIME 72e/+ to the tafte, and a relaxing quality to the ſkin. The next thing children covet is fruit, and of fruits, thoſe principally which are ſweet; and every one knows that the ſweetneſs of fruit is cauſed by a ſubtle oil and ſuch a falt as that mentioned in the laſt ſection. Afterwards,” euftom, habit, the deſire of novelty, and a thouſand other cauſes, confound, adulterate, and change our palates, ſo that we can no longer reaſon with any ſatisfaction about them. Before we quit this article we muſt obſerve; that as fmooth things are, as ſuch, agreeable to the taſte, and are found of a relaxing quality; ſo on the other hand, things which are found by experience to be of a ſtrengthening quality, and fitto brace the fibres, are almoſt univerſally rough and pungent to the taſte, and in many caſes rough even to the touch. We often apply the quality of ſweetneſs, metaphorically, to viſual objects. For the better, on this remarkable * analogy analogy of the ſenſes, we may here call ſweetneſs the beautiful of the taſte.
VARIATION, why beautiful.
NOTHER principal property of C A. beautiful objects is, that the line of their parts is continually varying its direction; but it varies it by a very in- ſenſible deviation, it never varies it fo quickly as to ſurpriſe, or by the ſharpneſs of its angle to cauſe any twitching or convulſion of the optic nerve. Nothing long continued in the fame man-—-ner, nothing very ſuddenly varied can be beautiful; becauſe both are oppoſite to that agreeable relaxation, which is the characteriſtic effect of beauty. It is thus in all the ſenſes. A motion in a right line, is that manner of moving next to a very gentle deſcent, in which we 300 On the SUBLIME. meet the leaſt reſiſtance;' yet it is not that manner of moving, which next to a deſcent, wearies us the leaſt. Reſt certainly tends to relax; yet there is a ſpecies of motion which relaxes more than reſt; a gentle oſcillatory motion, a riſing and falling. Rocking ſets children to ſleep better than abſolute reſt; there is indeed ſcarce any thing at that age, which gives more pleaſure than to be gently lifted up and down; the manner of playing which their nurſes uſe with children, and the weighing and ſwinging uſed afterwards by themſelves as a favourite amuſement, evince this very ſufficiently. Moſt people muſt have obſerved the ſort of ſenſe they have had, on being ſwiftly. drawn in an eaſy coach, on a ſmooth turf, with gradual aſcents and declivities. - This will give a better idea of the beautiful, and point out its probable cauſe better than almoſt any thing elſe. On the contrary; when one 1s hurried over a rough, rocky, broken road, road, the pain felt by theſe ſudden inequalities ſhews why ſimilar ſights, feelings and ſounds, are ſo contrary to beauty; and with regard to the feeling, it is exactly the ſame in its effect, or very nearly the ſame, whether, for inſtance, I move my hand along the ſurface of a body of a certain ſhape, or whether ſuch a body is moved along my hand. But to bring this analogy of the ſenſes home to the eye; if a body preſented to that ſenſe has ſuch a waving ſurface that the rays of light reflected from it are in a continual in- ſenſible deviation from the ſtrongeſt to the weakeſt, (which is always the caſe in a ſurface gradually unequal,) it muſt be exactly ſimilar in its effect on the eye and touch; upon the one of which it operates directly, on the other indirectly. And this body will be beautiful if the lines which compoſe its ſurface. are not continued, even ſo varied, in a manner that may weary or diſſipate the attention. The 1 itſelf muſt be continually varied.
302 On the SUBLIME SE CT. XIV. Concerning SMALLNESS.
No avoid a ſameneſs which may ariſe from the too frequent repetition of the ſame reaſonings, and of illuſtrations of the ſame nature, I will not enter very minutely into every particular that regards beauty, as it is found-_ the diſpoſition of its 8 or its quantity itſelf. In ſpeal en bodies there is great” uncertainty, becauſe the ideas of great and mall, are terms almoſt entirely relative to the ſpecies of the objects, which are infinite. It is true, that having once faxed the ſpecies of any object, and the dimenſions common in the individuals of that ſpecies, we may obſerve ſome that exceed, and ſome that fall ſhort of the ordinary ſtandard: theſe which greatrr are by that exceſs, provided the the ſpecies itſelf be not very ſmall, rather great and terrible than beautiful; but as in the animal world, and in a good meaſure in the vegetable world likewiſe, the qualities that conſtitute, beauty may poſſibly be united to things of greater dimenfions; when they are ſo united they conſtitute. a ſpecies ſome - and beautiful, which I have before called Fire; but this kind 1 imaging has not ſuch a power on the paſſions, either as vaſt bodies have which are endued with the correſpondent qualities of the ſublime; or as the qualities of beauty have when united in a ſitall object. The affection produced by large bodies adorns” - - ed with the ſpoils of beauty, is a tenſion continually relieved; which approaches to the nature of mediocrity. But if I were to ſay how I find myſelf affected upon - ſuch occaſions, I ſhould ſay, that the ſublime ſuffers leſs by beng united to ſome of the qualities of 1 beauty, 304 On the SUBLIME beauty, than beauty does by being joined to greatneſs of quantity, or any other properties of the ſublime. There is ſomething ſo over-ruling in whatever inſpires us with awe, in all things which belong ever ſo remotely to terror, that nothing elſe can ſtand in their preſence. There lie the qualities of beauty either dead and unoperative; or at moſt exerted to mollify the rigour and ſternneſs of the terror, which is the natural concomitant of greatneſs. Beſides the extraordinary great in every ſpecies, the oppoſite to this, the dwarfiſh and diminutive ought to be conſidered. Littleneſs, merely as ſuch, has nothing contrary to che idea of beauty. The humming bird both in "ſhape and colouring yields to none of the winged ſpecies, of which it is the leaſt; and perhaps his beauty is enhanced by his ſmallneſs. But there 1 are animals, which when they are extremely ſmall are rarely (if ever) beautiful. There is a dwarfiſh ſize of men and BEAUTIFUL. zog and women, which is almoſt conſtantly ſo groſs and maſſive in compariſon of their height, that they preſent us with a very diſagreeable image. But ſhould a man be found not above two or three feet high, ſuppoſing ſuch a perſon to have all the parts of his body of a delicacy ſuitable to ſuch a ſize, and otherwiſe endued with the common qualities of other beautiful bodies, J am pretty well conyinced that a perſon of ſuch-a ſtature might be conſidered as beautiful; might be the object of love; might give us very pleaſing ideas on viewing him. The only thing which could poſſibly interpoſe to check our pleaſure is, that ſuch creatures, however formed, are unuſual, and are often therefore conſidered. as. ſomething monſtrous. The large and gigantic, though very compatible with the ſublime, is contrary to the beautiful. It is impoſſible to ſuppoſe a glant the object of love. When we let our imaginations looſe in romance, the ideas ö [ 3066 On the SUBLIME naturally annex to that ſize are thoſe of tyranny, cruelty, injuſtice, and every thing horrid and abominable. We paint the giant ravaging the country, plundering the innocent traveller, and afterwards gorged with his half-living fleſh: ſuch are Polyphemus, Cacus, and others, who make ſo great a figure in romances and heroic poems.
The event we attend to with the greateſt ſatisfaction is their defeat and death.
I do not remember in all that multitude of deaths with which the Iliad is filled, that the fall of any man remarkable for his great ſtature and ſtrength touches us with pity; nor does it appear that the author, ſo well read in human nature, ever intended it ſhould. It is Simoiſius in the ſoft bloom of youth, torn | from his parents, who tremble for a - | 10 i ſuited to his ſtrength; it is another hurried by war from the new embraces of his bride, young, and fair, and a novice to the field, who melts us by by by his untimely fate. Achilles, in ſpite of the many qualities of beauty which Homer has beſtowed on his outward form, and the many great virtues with/ which he has adorned his mind, can never make us love him. It may be obſerved, that Homer has given the Trojans, whoſe fate he has deſigned to excite our compaſſion, infinitely more of the amiable focial virtues than he has diſtributed among his Greeks. With regard to the Trojans, the paſſion he chuſes to raiſe is pity; pity is a paſſion founded on love; and theſe leer, and if I may ſay, domeſtic virtues, are certainly the moſt amiable, But he has made the Greeks far their ſuperiors in the politic and military virtues. The councils of Priam are weak; the arms of Hector comparatively feeble; his courage far below that of Achilles. Yet we love Priam more than Agamemnon, and Hector more than his conqueror Achilles. Admiration is the paſ-ſion which Homer would excite in favour 398 On the SUBLIME of the Greeks, and he has done it by beſtowing on them the virtues which have but little to do with love. This ſhort digreſſion is perhaps not wholly beſide our purpoſe, where our buſineſs is to ſhew, that objects of great dimenſions are incompatible with beauty, the more incompatible as they are greater; whereas the ſmall, if ever they fail of beauty, this failure is not to be attributed to their ſize.
SE CT. XXVL Of COLOUR.
ITH regard to colour, the diſquiſition is almoſt infinite; but I conceive the principles laid down in the beginning of this part are ſufficient to account for the effects of them all, as well as for the agreeable effect of tranſparent bodies, whether fluid or ſolid.. Sup-* I look at a bottle of muddy liquor, of a blue or red colour: the blue or red rays cannot paſs clearly to the eye, brit are ſuddenly and unequally ſtopped by the intervention of little opaque bodies, which without preparation change the idea, and change it too into one diſagreeable in its own nature, donformable to | the principles laid down in ſect. 24. But when the ray paſſes without ſuch oppo-ſition through the glaſs or liquor, when the glaſs or liquor are quite tranſparent, the light is ſomething ſoftened in the paſſage, which makes it more agreeable even as light; and the liquor reflecting all the rays of its proper colour evenly, it has ſuch an effect on the eye, as ſmooth opaque bodies have on the eye and touch. So that the pleaſure here is compounded of the ſoftneſs of the tranſmitted, and the evenneſs of the reflected light. This pleaſure may be heightened by the common principles in other things, if the ſhape of the glaſs which holds the tranſent liquor be ſo judiciouſſy varied, as 310 On the SUBLIME 310 On the SUBLIME to preſent the colour gradually and interchangeably weakened and ſtrengthened with all that variety which judgment in affairs of this nature ſhall ſuggeſt. On a review of all that has been ſaid of the effects, as well as the cauſes of both; it will appear, that the ſublime and beautiful are built on principles very different, and that their affections are as different: the great has terror for its baſis; which, when it is modified, cauſes that emotion in the mind, which I have called aſtoniſhment; the beautiful is founded on mere poſitive pleaſure, and excites in the ſoul that feeling, which is called love. Their cauſes have made the ſubject of The end of the Fourth Part.
FART „ Philoſophical Enquiry + "IN TO'THE Onli of our Ip EAS OF THE | SUBLIME and BEAUTIFUL. "E Fol. WM Of WORDS. I TATURAL objedts affect us, by 2 thelaws of that connexion, which 15 Providence has eſtabliſned between certain motions and configurations of bodies, and certain conſequent feelings in our minds. Painting affects in the ſame manner, but with the ſuperadded pleaſure of imitation. Architecture 5 X 4 affects 312 On the: SUBLIME 312 On the: SUBLIME affects by the laws, of nature, and the law of reaſon; from which latter reſult the rules of proportion, which make a work to be praiſed or cenſured, in the whole or in ſome part, when the end for which it was deſigned is or is not properly an- ſwered. But as to words; they ſeem to me to affect us in a manner very different from that in which we are affected by natural objects, or by painting or architecture; yet words have as conſiderable a ſhare in exciting ideas of beauty and of the ſublime as any of thoſe, and ſometimes a much greater than any of them; therefore an enquiry into the manner by which they excite ſuch emotions is far from being unneceſſary in a eden of this N.
* * nee 5 SECT. 1.
The common effect of POETRY, not by raiſing ideas of things.
HE common notion of the power of poetry and eloquence, as well as that of words in ordinary converſation, is; that they affect the mind by raiſing in it ideas of thoſe things for which cuſtom has appointed them to ſtand. To examine the truth of this notion 35 it may be requiſite to obſerve that words may be divided into three ſorts. The firſt are ſuch as repreſent many ſimple ideas united by nature to form ſome one determinate compoſition, as man, horſe, tree, caſtle, &c. Theſe.: call aggregate words. The ſecond, are they that ſtand for one ſimple idea of ſuch compoſitions and no more; as red, blue, round, ſquare, and the like. Theſe: I call imple abſtraci words. The third, TNT. are 314 On the SUBLIME are thoſe, which are formed by an union, an arbitrary union of both the others, and of the various relations between them, in greater or leſſer degrees of complexity; as virtue, honour, perſuaſion, magiſtrate, and the like. Theſe I call compounded ab- Arad words. Words, I am ſenſible, are capable of being claſſed into more curious diſtinctions; but theſe ſeem to be natural, and enough for our purpoſe; and they are diſpoſed in that order in which the mind gets the ideas they are ſubſtituted for. I ſhall begin with the third {oct of words; compound abſtracts, ſuch Of theſe I am convinced, that whatever power they. may have on the paſſions, they do not derive it from any repreſentation raiſed in the mind of the things for which they ſtand. As compoſitily cauſe, I think, any real ideas. No * I believe, immediately on hearing 8 the the ſounds, virtue, liberty, or honour, conceives any preciſe notion of the particular modes of action and thinking, together with the mixt and ſimple ideas, and the feveral relations of them for - which theſe words are ſubſtituted; neither has he any general idea, compounded of them; for if he had, then ſome of thoſe particular ones, though indi-ſoon to be perceived. But this, I take it, is hardly ever the caſe. For put your- ſelf upon analyſing one of theſe words, and you muſt reduce it from one ſet of general words to another, and chen into the ſimple abſtracts and aggregates, in a much longer ſeries than may be at firſt to light, before you come to diſcover any thing like the firſt principles of ſuch compoſitions; and when you have made ſuch a diſcovery of the -original ideas, the effect of the compoſition is utterly loſt. A train of thinking of this fort, is much too long to be purſued in the ordinary ways of converſation, nor is it at all neceſſary that it ſhould. Such words are in reality but mere ſounds; but they are ſounds, which being uſed an particular occaſions, wherein we receive ſome good, or ſuffer ſome evil, or ee others affected with good or evil; or -which'we hear applied to other intereſting things or events; and being applied in ſuch a valiety of caſes that we Ano readily by habit to what things they belong, they produce in the mind, whenever they are afterwards mentioned, effects ſimilar to thoſe of their occaſions. The ſounds being often uſed without reference to any particular occaſion, and carrying till their firſt impreſſions, they at laſt utterly loſe their connection with the particular occaſions that gave riſe to them; yet the found without any annexee continues to b as before. vie oe Blog 8 3 3 2 . and BEAU TIFU IL. PRE e.
General words before IDEAS. © R. Locke has ſomewhere obſerved with his uſual fagacity, that moſt general words, thoſe belonging to virtue and vice, good and evil, eſpecially, are taught before the particular modes of action to which they belong are preſented to the mind; and with them, the love of the one, and the abhorrence of the other; for the minds of children are ſo ductile, that a nurſe, or any perſon about a child, by ſeeming pleaſed or diſpleaſed with any thing, or even any word, may give the diſpoſition of the child a ſimilar turn. When afterwards, the ſeveral occurrences in life come to be applied to theſe words; and that which is pleaſant often appears under the name of evil; and what is diſagreeable to nature is called good and virtuous; a ſtrange confuſion 318 on the SUBLIME fuſion of ideas and affections ariſes in the minds of many; and an appearance of no ſmall contradiction between their notions and their actions. There are many, who love virtue, and who deteſt vice, and this not from hypocriſy or affectation, who notwithſtanding very frequently act ill and wickedly in particulars without the leaſt remorſe; becauſe theſe particular occaſions never came into view, when the paſſions on the fide. of virtue were ſo warmly affected by certain words heated originally by the breath of others; and for this reaſon, it is hard to repeat certain ſets of words, though owned by thermſelves unoperative, without being in ſome degree affected, efpecially if a warm and affecting tone of voice accom- Wi valiant — neee, | Theſe words, 27 nah e . to be unoperative; but when words and B AUTIF UL. 319 words commonly facred to great occaſi - ons are uſed, we are affected by them even without the occaſions. When words which have been generally ſo applied are put together without any rational view, or in ſuch a manner that they do not rightly agree with each other, the ſtile is called bombaſt. And it requires in ſeveral caſes much good ſenſe and experience to be guarded againſt the force of ſuch language; for when propriety is neglected, a greater number of theſe affecting words may be taken into the ſer vice, and a greater variety may be indulged in combining them.
SECT. IV. The effect of WO RDS.
F words have all their poſſible extent of power, three effects ariſe in the mind of the hearer. The firſt is, the ſound; the ſecond, the pilfure, or rere ſentation -foul produced by one or by both of the foregoing.
Compounded abſtraf# words, of which we have been ſpeaking, (honour, juſtice, liberty, and the like,) produce the firſt and the laſt of theſe effects, but not the ſecond. Simple abſtracts, are uſed to ſignify ſome one ſimple idea without much adverting to others which may chance to attend it, as blue, green, hot, cold, and the like; theſe are capable of affecting all three of the purpoſes of words; as the aggregate words, man, caſtle, horſe, &c. are in a yet higlier degree. But I am of opinion, that the moſt general effect even of theſe words, does not ariſe from their forming pictures of the ſeveral things they would repre- ſent in the imagination; becauſe on a very diligent examii nation of my own mind, and getting others to conſider theirs, I do not find that once in twenty times any ſuch picture is formed, and 4d BEAUTIFUL. 321 vrhen it is, there is moſt commonly a particular effort of the imagination for that purpoſe. But the aggregate words operate as I ſaid of the compound ab- ſtracts, not by preſenting any image to the mind, but by having from uſe the ſame effect on being mentioned, that their original has when it is ſeen. Suppoſe we were to read a paſſage to this effect. The river Danube riſes in a moiſt and mountainous ſoil in the heart of Germany; where winding to and fro it waters ſeye= ral prineipalities, until turning into Au- ſtria and leaving the walls of Vienna it paſſes into Hungary; there with a vaſt flood augmented by the Saave and the Drave it quits Chriſtendom, and rolling 4 through the batbirous / countries which border on Tartary, it enters by many niduths into the Black ſea.” In chis de- ſcription 1 many things are mentioned, as mountains, rivers, cities, the ſea, &c.
But let any body examine himſelf, and ſee whether he has had impreſfed en his 8 Y ima 322 On! the SUBLIME 2 pictures of a river, mou tain, watery foil, Germany, &c. Indeed it is e in the rapidity and quick ſucceſſion of words in converſation, to have ideas both of the ſound of the word, and of the thing eee 3 — a ur 4 ntl og nominal import, that it is impracticable to jump from ſenſe to thought, from particulars to generals, from things to words, in ſuch a manner as to anſwer the purns nor is it eee ſhould. \ * BY * Ss SECT. v. e hog Eaangles — WORDS may aka without e 45 eh - chat) their 8 ae affected by wards from, des. e. no ad ” in the ordinary courle of converſation we are ſufficiently underſtood without rai- ſing any images of the things concern ing which we ſpeak...It ſeems to be an odd ſubject of diſpute with any man, whether he has ideas in his mind or not. Of this at firſt view, every man, in his own forum, ought to judge without appeal. But ſtrange as it may appear, we are often, at a loſs, to know What ideas we have of things, or whether we "oh y any ideas at all upon ſome ſubjects. even requires'a gooddeal of attention to 1: thoroughly ſatisfied on this head. Since I wrote theſe, papers I found two 9 ſtriking inſtances of the poſſibility there is, that a man may hear words without 6 having any idea of the things which they repreſent, and yet afterwards be capable of returning them to others, combined, in anew way and with great progrietys; energy and jnſtruction. The firſt in- ſtance, is that, of Mr. Blacklock, a poet blind from his birth. Few men bleſſed”; UG Y 2 with $> 324. O te SUBLIME with the moſt perfect fight can deſcribe viſual objects with more ſpirit and juftneſs than this blind man; which cannot poſſibly be attributed to his having a clearer conception of the things he de-ſcribes-than is common to other perſons. Mr. Spence, in an elegant preface which he has written to the works of this poet, reaſons very ingeniouſſy, and I imagine for the moſt part very rightly upon the cauſe of this extraordinary phenomenon; * but I cannot altogether agree with him, that ſome i improprieties in language and thought which occur in theſe poems have ariſen from the blind poet's imperfect conception of viſual objects, ſince ſuch improprieties, and much greater, may be found in writers even of an higher claſs than Mr. Hlacklock, and Who, notwithſtanding, poſfeſſed the Hculty of ſeeing in its ful perfectio n. Here is a poet doubtleſs as muck affected by 4 his own deſcriptions as any that reads them « can be; and * he is affected with 6-4) mY N N 15 this this ſtrong enthuſiaſm by things of which he neither has, nor can poſſibly have any idea further than that of a bare ſound; and why may not thoſe who read his works be affected in the fame manner that he was, with as little of any real ideas of the things deſcribed?: The ſecond inſtance is of Mr: Saunderſon, profeſſor of mathematics in the univerſity of Cambridge. This learned man had acquired great knowledge in natural philoſophy, in aſtronomy, and whatever ſeiences depend upon mathematical ſkill. What was the moſt extraordinary, and the moſt to my purpoſe, he gave excellent lectures upon light and colours; and this man taught others the ine of thoſp 5 ideas which they had, and which he himſelf undoubtedly had not. But it is probable, that the words red, blue, green, anſwered to him as well as the ideas of the colours themſelves; for the ideas of greater or leſſer degrees of refrangibility being wes to-theſe words, and the blind 8 Y 3 man 326 On che 18 UV BLIM2E ſpects they were found to agree or to diſ⸗ | agree, it was as eaſy for him to. reaſon upon the words as if he had been fully maſter of the ideas. Indeed it muſt be owned he eauld make no new diſcoveries in the way of experiment. He did nothing but what we do every day in laſt ſentence,” and uſed the words very day and common diſcaumſe: I had no images in my mind of any ſucceſſion of time; nor af men in conſerence with each other; not do I imagine that the falle will have any ſuch ideas on reading it. Neither when I ſpake of red, blue, and green, as well as of refrangibilityʒ had I thei ſeretal colours. or the rays af light paſſing into a different medium, and eee den their roſs een ieee — ur ef raiſing! fuch images — chls; and in ordinary converſation or reading it is very rarely that any image at all is excited in the mind. If I fay, J ſhall go to Italy next ſummer,” 1 am well underſtood. Yet I believe no body has by this painted in his imagination the exact figure of the ſpeaker paſſing by land or by. water, or both; ſometimes on horſeback, ſometimes in a carriage; with all the particulars of the journey. Still leſs has he any idea of Italy, the country to which I propoſed to go; or of the greenneſs of the fields, the ripening of the fruits, and the warmth of the air, with the change to this from for which the word from the word nex?; for this word ſtands for the idea of many ſummers, with the excluſion of all but one: and ſurely the man who ſays next fummer, has no images of ſuch a ſucceſſion, and ſuch an excluſn. In ſhort, it is not only of thoſe þd'\! Y 4 ideas — - J. —— ge nn .
— —ä—ʒä—ũẽ y“ — - ene —— — i U it z> } $1 ' : i i i} N ö x I IS $28 Oi tht S UB LIM E ideas Which are commonly called abſtract, and of which no image at all can be formed, but even of particular real beings, that we converſe without having any idea of them excited in the imagination; as will certainly appear on a diligent examination of our own minds.
Indeed fo little does poetry depend for its effect on the power of raiſing ſenſible images, that I am convinced it would loſe a very conſiderable part of its energy, if this were the neceſſary reſult of all deſeription. Becauſe that union of af. fecting words which is the moſt powerful of all poetical inftruments, would "propriety and conſiſtency, if the ſenſible images were always excited. There is grand and laboured paſſage, than the deſoription of Vulcan's cavern in Etna; and dwells particularly on the formatioi of 3 he deſeribes unfiviſh» „ of. the pat | ak aud are the RS. KY of this ex· 0 g 0 e 5 l torti 3 rres. nubie ethos | Addiderant; rutili tres ignis ar eee. J Fulgares Ane terrificos, ſonitumgue, netumgue |. (Miſha per Senn: ſpades ire i This Av wy me ods ſublime; 5 | i yet if we attend. coolly.to the kind ß ſenſible image which a combination of jt ideas of this ſort muſt form, the chi- i meras of madmen cannot appear more l wild and abſurd than ſuch a picture. | % Three rays of twiſted ſhowers, three of « watry clouds, three of fire, and three 6 of the winged ſouth wind; then mixed &. they in the work terrific lightnings, and « found, and fear, and anger, with pur- . ſuing flames.” This ſtrange compo- ſition is formed into a groſs body; it is hammered» by the Cyclops, it is in part ns * e continues — The 839 Qu) the S'V/BIa ME The truth is, if poetry gives us a noble gaſſemblage of words, correſponding to S " "_ noble ideas, which are connected » by circumſtances of time or place, or 5 related to each other as cauſe and effect, 1; Nee any natural way, they may ks BY be moulded together in any Form, and Fasane anſwer their end. The pictuque connection is not demanded; becauſe 0 teal picture is formed; nor is che effect of che deſcription at all the leſs upon this account. What is {aid of Helen by Priam and the old men of his council, is generally thought to give eee eee that fatal homuty. -- eee een len e D. 2 SI ko. 4 * Aa, Vs eee eee ad BEAUTIFUL 331 Here is not one word 01.. the | hich cis ps the leaſt. e ANF 1 preciſe idea of her perſon; but yet WW are much more touched by this manner of mentioning her than by theſs long and laboured deſcriptions. of Helen, 07 whether handed down by tradition, r formed by fancy, which are to be met with in ſome authors. 1 am ſure it affects me much more than the minute deſcription, which Spenſer. has given of..
Belphebe; $ though I own that there Arg parts in chat deſcription, | as there are in: all the deſcriptions of that Sees es ter, extremely fine and poetical. The: pas picture which. e 2 mf en in onder 9 UP < = gt bought: 10 be der ſigned vith Set, paldocls 905 50% 12 wt wm wo:: 332 on the SUBLIME _ OP caput Ciel regionibus eftendebat Horribili deſuptr viſu mortalibus inflans 3 Wie Grains hems mortales rollere c contra | LOS WS lent a picture none at all moſt certainly;; neither has the poet faid a ſingle word which might in the leaſt ſerve to mark a fingle limb or feature of the. which he intended to repreſent i all the horrors imagination can conceive. In reality poetry and rhetoric do not ſucceed f in Ae deſcription ** well as rather by Hitpathy than imitation; to diſplay rather the effect of things on the mind of the ſpeaker, or of others, than to preſent a a clear idea of the things themſelves. This is their moſt "exten» five Province, and chat in in whict they Ca BEAUTI r ui. 355 s er. vi.
Potent: not firidtly an imitative” art try, taken in its moſt general ſenſe; cannot with ſtrict propriety be called in art of imitation. It is indeed an imitation ſo far as it deſcribes the manners” and paſſions of men which their words can expreſs'; here anim mots ęferr interprete lingua. There it is "_—; imitation; — - - | ty: — ebiefly. by 7 5 the means of ſounds, which by cuſtom have the effect of realities. Nothing is an imitation further than as it reſembles Gmoitherthing.endwrerdeandeldbadi; y hae no ſort of nnn to the "ENCE we may obſerve that pos.: Ny * N: CY my > A N 8 10 7 ORDs: influence. ie ge 1 Lon ges ne, i any "gion, | it — be Gppoled,)that their influence over the paſſions ſhould: be but den Nn pants puree a ' Yew are as | bl ard 1 "BIR 25 „wind espable of- miaking deep and lively.
gig: hy 5 » bins 8 2b1ov th Ta ** ” A 2 9 Fe the paſſions of others, and: '""" are eatlyaſſeQed-ard brought into renn | -99. 93 „ dy by any tokens which: are ſhewn 2 "of them; and there are uo tokens which bog 2 88 fo that if a 21 by | pe ron nd / EA UI BU 0 33 perſon ſpeaks ufean auy cabhect, he cas not only eue the ſubhect t you, buy kkewiſe the marmer in which he is him ſelf affected by it. Certain it is, that the influence of moſt chings on our paſs fions is not ſo much from the things themſelves, as from our opinions con very much on e op in elne N words only. af Secondly; ther we things of a Very Afeckine nie 7 words which ne them often * waking a deep er — root in the mind, whilſt che idea of this reality was tranſient; and to ſome perhaps never — re to whom it is notwithſtandi fecting, as War, death, — Beſides, many ideas have never been at all preſented to the ſenſes of any men but .
cannot poſſibly do othery power of combining we are ahle, by the 2 did, ich is al I contend. for. A pio- 336 On the ' SUBLIME oral as God, i alen. Ber n e 1 Thirdly; by words we have it in our. power to make fach combinations as we iſe. By this addition of well-choſen circumſtances, to give a new life and force to the bmple object. In painting we may repreſent any = ee din but wo dexer dan may receiye — 2 0. 8 an anget 1 in a picture, 9 Fa. only draw painting can- Furoih/ out. ching ſo and as the addition of one word, ( the « alc the Lord! It is true, I have here no clear idea, but theſe words affect re than the ſenſible image ture of Priam dragged to the altar's foot; "pn an W YZ is | | cuted their dime habitation, | # / wd,BEAUTIEUL,, 337 cuted would undoubtedly be very moving; but there are very aggravating circumſtances which it could never repreſent, X PAY £7 4 x TL, ws wo) 137 e wen be ce re., As a further ns, let us 808 thoſe lines of Milton, where he deſcribes the travels of the fallen angels through a n n " pens many. a dark gh 2&5 vale * Thy paſs h and many a region dolores, Or many a frozen, many a fiery Mp; — Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs,, dens Ne — 4 Amen 75 a R N * Here ene the Geof wi i their effect, if they were not the © hich! yet would Joſe the Ot OP & » ar * K .
i i 338 On the SUBLIME , cave Lakes, ani bogs; fens and Aa” l zrioifien of). Sutton? This, idea or this en erh FRO 2 word, which, nathing but a word could annex to the others, raiſes. a, very great degree of the ſublime; and this ſublime is raiſed yet higher by what follows, a f univerſe of Death,” Here are again two. ideas not, preſentible. but. by language; and an union of them great and amazing beyond conception; if they may properly be called ideas which. preſent. no diſtinct 4 image to the mind;--- but ſtill it will be, difficult to, conceive. how, words can move the paſſions. Which belong to real objects, without repreſenting. theſe objects clearly. This is difficult to us, becauſe we do not ſufficiently. diſtinguiſh, in our obſervations upon language, between a clear expreſſion, and a ſtrong expreſſion. Theſe are frequently, confounded with n ee they are in reality extremely different. The former regards the underſtanding; the latter belongs to the paſſions. The one deſcribes a thing as it is; the other de- ſcribes it as it is felt Now, as there is a moving tone of voice, an impaſſioned countenance, an agitated geſture, which affect independently of” the things about _ which they are exerted, ſo there are words, and certain diſpoſitions of words, which being peculiarly devoted to paſs flonate ſubjects, and always uſed by thoſe who are under the influence of afiy pa- ſion; they touch and move us more than thoſe which far more clearly and diſtinctiy expteſs the ſubject matter. We yield to ſympathy, hat we refuſe to de-: ee The truth is, all verbal deription, merely as naked deſcription, though never ſo exact, conveys: ſa;poor and inſufficient an idea; of the thing de-ſcribed; that it could ſcarcely have the ſmalleſt effect, if the ſpeaker did not call ONE EROS Bw — ONE a R my en 1.
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