A Philosophical Inquiry Into The Origin Of Our Ideas Of The Sublime And The Beautiful

By Edmund Burke ( !"! # !$!%

PA&T I
' (o)elty THE FIRST and the simplest emotion which we discover in the human mind, is Curiosity. By curiosity, I mean whatever desire we have or, or whatever pleasure we ta!e in, novelty. "e see children perpetually runnin# rom place to place, to hunt out somethin# new$ they catch with #reat ea#erness, and with very little choice, at whatever comes %e ore them& their attention is en#a#ed %y everythin#, %ecause everythin# has, in that sta#e o li e, the charm o novelty to recommend it. But as those thin#s, which en#a#e us merely %y their novelty, cannot attach us or any len#th o time, curiosity is the most super icial o all the a ections& it chan#es its o%'ect perpetually, it has an appetite which is very sharp, %ut very easily satis ied& and it has always an appearance o #iddiness, restlessness, and an(iety. Curiosity, rom its nature, is a very active principle& it )uic!ly runs over the #reatest part o its o%'ects, and soon e(hausts the variety which is commonly to %e met with in nature& the same thin#s ma!e re)uent returns, and they return with less and less o any a#reea%le e ect. In short, the occurrences o li e, %y the time we come to !now it a little, would %e incapa%le o a ectin# the mind with any other sensations than those o loathin# and weariness, i many thin#s were not adapted to a ect the mind %y means o other powers %esides novelty in them, and o other passions %esides curiosity in ourselves. These powers and passions shall %e considered in their place. But whatever these powers are, or upon what principle soever they a ect the mind, it is a%solutely necessary that they should not %e e(erted in those thin#s which a daily and vul#ar use have %rou#ht into a stale una ectin# amiliarity. Some de#ree o novelty must %e one o the materials in every instrument which wor!s upon the mind& and curiosity %lends itsel more or less with all our passions "' Pain And Pleasure IT seems then necessary towards movin# the passions o people advanced in li e to any considera%le de#ree, that the o%'ects desi#ned or that purpose, %esides their %ein# in some measure new, should %e capa%le o e(citin# pain or pleasure rom other causes. *ain and pleasure are simple ideas, incapa%le o de inition. *eople are not lia%le to %e mista!en in their eelin#s, %ut they are very re)uently wron# in the names they #ive them, and in their reasonin#s a%out them. +any are o the opinion, that pain arises necessarily rom the removal o some pleasure& as they thin! pleasure does rom the ceasin# or diminution o some pain. For my part, I am rather inclined to ima#ine, that pain and pleasure, in their most simple and natural manner o a ectin#, are each o a positive nature, and %y no means necessarily dependent on each other or their e(istence. The human mind is o ten, and I thin! it is or the most part, in a state neither o pain nor pleasure, which I call a state o indi erence. "hen I am carried rom this state into a state o actual pleasure, it does not appear necessary that I should pass throu#h the medium o any sort o pain. I in such a state o indi erence, or ease, or tran)uillity, or call it what you please, you were to %e suddenly entertained with a concert o music& or suppose some o%'ect o a ine shape, and %ri#ht, lively colours, to %e presented %e ore you& or ima#ine your smell is #rati ied with the ra#rance o a rose& or i without any previous thirst you were to drin! o some pleasant !ind o wine, or to taste o some sweetmeat without %ein# hun#ry& in all the several senses, o hearin#, smellin# and tastin#, you undou%tedly ind a pleasure& yet i I in)uire into the state o your mind previous to these #rati ications, you will hardly tell me that they ound you in any !ind o pain& or, havin# satis ied these several senses with their several pleasures, will you say that any pain has succeeded, thou#h the pleasure is a%solutely over, Suppose on the other hand, a man in the same state o indi erence, to receive a violent %low, or to drin! o some %itter potion, or to have his ears wounded with some harsh and #ratin# sound& here is no removal o pleasure& and yet here is elt in every sense which is a ected, a pain very distin#uisha%le. It may %e said, perhaps, that the pain in these cases had its rise rom the removal o the pleasure which the man en'oyed %e ore, thou#h that pleasure was o so low a de#ree as to %e perceived only %y the removal. But this seems to me a su%tilty that is not discovera%le in nature. For i , previous to the pain, I do not eel any actual pleasure, I have no reason to 'ud#e that any such thin# e(ists& since pleasure is only pleasure as it is elt. The same may %e said o pain, and with e)ual reason. I can never persuade mysel that pleasure and pain are mere relations, which can only e(ist as they are contrasted& %ut I thin! I can discern clearly that there are positive pains and pleasures, which do not at all depend upon each other. -othin# is more certain to my own eelin#s than this. There is nothin# which I can distin#uish in my mind with more clearness than the three states, o indi erence, o pleasure, and o pain. Every one o these I can perceive without any sort o idea o its relation to anythin# else. Caius is a licted with a it o the colic& this man is .

actually in pain& stretch Caius upon the rac!, he will eel a much #reater pain$ %ut does this pain o the rac! arise rom the removal o any pleasure, or is the it o the colic a pleasure or a pain, 'ust as we are pleased to consider it, *' The +ifference Bet,een the &emo)al of Pain- and Positi)e Pleasure "E shall carry this proposition yet a step arther. "e shall venture to propose, that pain and pleasure are not only not necessarily dependent or their e(istence on their mutual diminution or removal, %ut that, in reality, the diminution or ceasin# o pleasure does not operate li!e positive pain& and that the removal or diminution o pain, in its e ect, has very little resem%lance to positive pleasure. The ormer o these propositions will, I %elieve, %e much more readily allowed than the latter& %ecause it is very evident that pleasure, when it has run its career, sets us down very nearly where it ound us. *leasure o every !ind )uic!ly satis ies& and when it is over, we relapse into indi erence, or rather we all into a so t tran)uillity, which is tin#ed with the a#reea%le colour o the ormer sensation. I own it is not at irst view so apparent, that the removal o a #reat pain does not resem%le positive pleasure& %ut let us recollect in what state we have ound our minds upon escapin# some imminent dan#er, or on %ein# released rom the severity o some cruel pain. "e have on such occasions ound, i I am not much mista!en, the temper o our minds in a tenor very remote rom that which attends the presence o positive pleasure& we have ound them in a state o much so%riety, impressed with a sense o awe, in a sort o tran)uillity shadowed with horror. The ashion o the countenance and the #esture o the %ody on such occasions is so correspondent to this state o mind, that any person, a stran#er to the cause o the appearance, would rather 'ud#e us under some consternation, than in the en'oyment o anythin# li!e positive pleasure/. Iliad. 01ree!2. 345. 6s when a wretch, who, conscious o his crime, *ursued or murder rom his native clime, 7ust #ains some rontier, %reathless, pale, ama8ed& 6ll #a8e, all wonder9 This stri!in# appearance o the man whom Homer supposes to have 'ust escaped an imminent dan#er, the sort o mi(ed passion o terror and surprise, with which he a ects the spectators, paints very stron#ly the manner in which we ind ourselves a ected upon occasions any way similar. For when we have su ered rom any violent emotion, the mind naturally continues in somethin# li!e the same condition, a ter the cause which irst produced it has ceased to operate. The tossin# o the sea remains a ter the storm& and when this remain o horror has entirely su%sided, all the passion, which the accident raised, su%sides alon# with it& and the mind returns to its usual state o indi erence. In short, pleasure :I mean anythin# either in the inward sensation, or in the outward appearance, li!e pleasure rom a positive cause; has never, I ima#ine, its ori#in rom the removal o pain or dan#er. 2 -ote /. +r. <oc!e 0Essay on the Human =nderstandin#, l. ii. c. 25, sect. />2 thin!s that the removal or lessenin# o a pain is considered and operates as a pleasure, and the loss or diminishin# o pleasure as a pain. It is this opinion which we consider here. .' Of +elight And Pleasure A sOpposed To Each Other B=T shall we there ore say, that the removal o pain or its diminution is always simply pain ul, or a irm that the cessation or the lessenin# o pleasure is always attended itsel with a pleasure, By no means. "hat I advance is no more than this& irst, that there are pleasures and pains o a positive and independent nature& and, secondly, that the eelin# which results rom the ceasin# or diminution o pain does not %ear a su icient resem%lance to positive pleasure, to have it considered as o the same nature, or to entitle it to %e !nown %y the same name& and, thirdly, that upon the same principle the removal or )uali ication o pleasure has no resem%lance to positive pain. It is certain that the ormer eelin# :the removal or moderation o pain; has somethin# in it ar rom distressin# or disa#reea%le in its nature. This eelin#, in many cases so a#reea%le, %ut in all so di erent rom positive pleasure, has no name
/

+r. <oc!e 0Essay on the Human =nderstandin#, l. ii. c. 25, sect. />2 thin!s that the removal or lessenin# o a pain is considered and operates as a pleasure, and the loss or diminishin# o pleasure as a pain. It is this opinion which we consider here 3

which I !now& %ut that hinders not its %ein# a very real one, and very di erent rom all others. It is most certain that every species o satis action or pleasure, how di erent soever in its manner o a ectin#, is o a positive nature in the mind o him who eels it. The a ection is undou%tedly positive& %ut the cause may %e, as in this case it certainly is, a sort o Privation. 6nd it is very reasona%le that we should distin#uish %y some term two thin#s so distinct in nature, as a pleasure that is such simply, and without any relation, rom that pleasure which cannot e(ist without a relation, and that too a relation to pain. ?ery e(traordinary it would %e, i these a ections, so distin#uisha%le in their causes, so di erent in their e ects, should %e con ounded with each other, %ecause vul#ar use has ran#ed them under the same #eneral title. "henever I have occasion to spea! o this species o relative pleasure, I call it Delight; and I shall ta!e the %est care I can to use that word in no other sense. I am satis ied the word is not commonly used in this appropriated si#ni ication& %ut I thou#ht it %etter to ta!e up a word already !nown, and to limit its si#ni ication, than to introduce a new one, which would not perhaps incorporate so well with the lan#ua#e. I should never have presumed the least alteration in our words, i the nature o the lan#ua#e, ramed or the purposes o %usiness rather than those o philosophy, and the nature o my su%'ect, that leads me out o the common trac! o discourse, did not in a manner necessitate me to it. I shall ma!e use o this li%erty with all possi%le caution. 6s I ma!e use o the world Delight to e(press the sensation which accompanies the removal o pain or dan#er& so when I spea! o positive pleasure, I shall or the most part call it simply Pleasure. /' 0oy And 1rief IT must %e o%served that the cessation o pleasure a ects the mind three ways. I it simply ceases, a ter havin# continued a proper time, the e ect is indifference; i it %e a%ruptly %ro!en o , there ensues an uneasy sense called disappointment; i the o%'ect %e so totally lost that there is no chance o en'oyin# it a#ain, a passion arises in the mind, which is called grief. -ow there is none o these, not even #rie , which is the most violent, that I thin! has any resem%lance to positive pain. The person who #rieves, su ers his passion to #row upon him& he indul#es it, he loves it$ %ut this never happens in the case o actual pain, which no man ever willin#ly endured or any considera%le time. That #rie should %e willin#ly endured, thou#h ar rom a simply pleasin# sensation, is not so di icult to %e understood. It is the nature o #rie to !eep its o%'ect perpetually in its eye, to present it in its most pleasura%le views, to repeat all the circumstances that attend it, even to the last minuteness& to #o %ac! to every particular en'oyment, to dwell upon each, and to ind a thousand new per ections in all, that were not su iciently understood %e ore& in #rie , the pleasure is still uppermost& and the a liction we su er has no resem%lance to a%solute pain, which is always odious, and which we endeavor to sha!e o as soon as possi%le. The @dyssey o Homer, which a%ounds with so many natural and a ectin# ima#es, has none more stri!in# than those which +enelaus raises o the calamitous ate o his riends, and his own manner o eelin# it. He owns, indeed, that he o ten #ives himsel some intermission rom such melancholy re lections& %ut he o%serves, too, that, melancholy as they are, they #ive him pleasure. Hom. @d. 01ree!2. /55 Still in short intervals o pleasing woe, Re#ard ul o the riendly dues I owe, I to the #lorious dead, or ever dear, Indulge the tri%ute o a grateful tear @n the other hand, when we recover our health, when we escape an imminent dan#er, is it with 'oy that we are a ected, The sense on these occasions is ar rom that smooth and voluptuous satis action which the assured prospect o pleasure %estows. The deli#ht which arises rom the modi ications o pain con esses the stoc! rom whence it sprun#, in its solid, stron#, and severe nature. !' Of The Passions 2hich Belong To Self3Preser)ation +@ST o the ideas which are capa%le o ma!in# a power ul impression on the mind, whether simply o *ain or *leasure, or o the modi ications o those, may %e reduced very nearly to these two heads, self-preservation and society; to the ends o one or the other o which all our passions are calculated to answer. The passions which concern sel Apreservation, turn mostly on pain or danger. The ideas o pain, sickness, and death, ill the mind with stron# emotions o horror& %ut life and health, thou#h they put us in a capacity o %ein# a ected with pleasure, ma!e B

no such impression %y the simple en'oyment. The passions there ore which are conversant a%out the preservation o the individual turn chie ly on pain and danger, and they are the most power ul o all the passions. 4' Of The Sublime "H6TE?ER is itted in any sort to e(cite the ideas o pain and dan#er, that is to say, whatever is in any sort terri%le, or is conversant a%out terri%le o%'ects, or operates in a manner analo#ous to terror, is a source o the sublime; that is, it is productive o the stron#est emotion which the mind is capa%le o eelin#. I say the stron#est emotion, %ecause I am satis ied the ideas o pain are much more power ul than those which enter on the part o pleasure. "ithout all dou%t, the torments which we may %e made to su er are much #reater in their e ect on the %ody and mind, than any pleasure which the most learned voluptuary could su##est, or than the liveliest ima#ination, and the most sound and e()uisitely sensi%le %ody, could en'oy. -ay, I am in #reat dou%t whether any man could %e ound, who would earn a li e o the most per ect satis action, at the price o endin# it in the torments, which 'ustice in licted in a ew hours on the late un ortunate re#icide in France. But as pain is stron#er in its operation than pleasure, so death is in #eneral a much more a ectin# idea than pain& %ecause there are very ew pains, however e()uisite, which are not pre erred to death$ nay, what #enerally ma!es pain itsel , i I may say so, more pain ul, is, that it is considered as an emissary o this !in# o terrors. "hen dan#er or pain press too nearly, they are incapa%le o #ivin# any deli#ht, and are simply terri%le& %ut at certain distances, and with certain modi ications, they may %e, and they are, deli#ht ul, as we every day e(perience. The cause o this I shall endeavour to investi#ate herea ter. $' Of The Passions 2hich Belong To Society THE @THER head under which I class our passions, is that o society, which may %e divided into two sorts. I. The society o the sexes, which answers the purposes o propa#ation& and ne(t, that more general society, which we have with men and with other animals, and which we may in some sort %e said to have even with the inanimate world. The passions %elon#in# to the preservation o the individual turn wholly on pain and dan#er$ those which %elon# to generation have their ori#in in #rati ications and pleasures; the pleasure most directly %elon#in# to this purpose is o a lively character, rapturous and violent, and con essedly the hi#hest pleasure o sense& yet the a%sence o this so #reat an en'oyment scarce amounts to an uneasiness& and, e(cept at particular times, I do not thin! it a ects at all. "hen men descri%e in what manner they are a ected %y pain and dan#er, they do not dwell on the pleasure o health and the com ort o security, and then lament the loss o these satis actions$ the whole turns upon the actual pains and horrors which they endure. But i you listen to the complaints o a orsa!en lover, you o%serve that he insists lar#ely on the pleasures which he en'oyed, or hoped to en'oy, and on the per ection o the o%'ect o his desires& it is the loss which is always uppermost in his mind. The violent e ects produced %y love, which has sometimes %een even wrou#ht up to madness, is no o%'ection to the rule which we see! to esta%lish. "hen men have su ered their ima#inations to %e lon# a ected with any idea, it so wholly en#rosses them as to shut out %y de#rees almost every other, and to %rea! down every partition o the mind which would con ine it. 6ny idea is su icient or the purpose, as is evident rom the in inite variety o causes, which #ive rise to madness$ %ut this at most can only prove, that the passion o love is capa%le o producin# very e(traordinary e ects, not that its e(traordinary emotions have any conne(ion with positive pain. 5' The 6inal 7ause Of the +ifference Bet,een The Passions Belonging To Self3Preser)ation And Those 2hich &egard The Society Of The Se8es THE FI-6< cause o the di erence in character %etween the passions which re#ard sel Apreservation, and those which are directed to the multiplication o the species, will illustrate the ore#oin# remar!s yet urther& and it is, I ima#ine, worthy o o%servation even upon its own account. 6s the per ormance o our duties o every !ind depends upon li e, and the per ormin# them with vi#our and e icacy depends upon health, we are very stron#ly a ected with whatever threatens the destruction o either$ %ut as we are not made to ac)uiesce in li e and health, the simple en'oyment o them is not attended with any real pleasure, lest, satis ied with that, we should #ive ourselves over to indolence and inaction. @n the other hand, the #eneration o man!ind is a #reat purpose, and it is re)uisite that men should %e animated to the pursuit o it %y some #reat incentive. It is there ore attended with a very hi#h pleasure& %ut as it is %y no means desi#ned to %e our constant %usiness, it is not it that the a%sence o this pleasure should %e attended with any considera%le pain. The di erence %etween men and %rutes, in this point, seems to %e >

remar!a%le. +en are at all times pretty e)ually disposed to the pleasures o love, %ecause they are to %e #uided %y reason in the time and manner o indul#in# them. Had any #reat pain arisen rom the want o this satis action, reason, I am a raid, would ind #reat di iculties in the per ormance o its o ice. But %rutes, who o%ey laws, in the e(ecution o which their own reason has %ut little share, have their stated seasons& at such times it is not impro%a%le that the sensation rom the want is very trou%lesome, %ecause the end must %e then answered, or %e missed in many, perhaps or ever& as the inclination returns only with its season. ' Of Beauty THE *6SSI@- which %elon#s to #eneration, merely as such, is lust only. This is evident in %rutes, whose passions are more unmi(ed, and which pursue their purposes more directly than ours. The only distinction they o%serve with re#ard to their mates, is that o se(. It is true, that they stic! severally to their own species in pre erence to all others. But this pre erence, I ima#ine, does not arise rom any sense o %eauty which they ind in their species, as +r. 6ddison supposes, %ut rom a law o some other !ind, to which they are su%'ect& and this we may airly conclude, rom their apparent want o choice amon#st those o%'ects to which the %arriers o their species have con ined them. But man, who is a creature adapted to a #reater variety and intricacy o relation, connects with the #eneral passion the idea o some social )ualities, which direct and hei#hten the appetite which he has in common with all other animals& and as he is not desi#ned li!e them to live at lar#e, it is it that he should have somethin# to create a pre erence, and i( his choice& and this in #eneral should %e some sensi%le )uality& as no other can so )uic!ly, so power ully, or so surely produce its e ect. The o%'ect there ore o this mi(ed passion, which we call love, is the beauty o the sex. +en are carried to the se( in #eneral, as it is the se(, and %y the common law o nature& %ut they are attached to particulars %y personal beauty. I call %eauty a social )uality& or where women and men, and not only they, %ut when other animals #ive us a sense o 'oy and pleasure in %eholdin# them, :and there are many that do so,; they inspire us with sentiments o tenderness and a ection towards their persons& we li!e to have them near us, and we enter willin#ly into a !ind o relation with them, unless we should have stron# reasons to the contrary. But to what end, in many cases, this was desi#ned, I am una%le to discover& or I see no #reater reason or a conne(ion %etween man and several animals who are attired in so en#a#in# a manner, than %etween him and some others who entirely want this attraction, or possess it in a ar wea!er de#ree. But it is pro%a%le, that *rovidence did not ma!e even this distinction, %ut with a view to some #reat end& thou#h we cannot perceive distinctly what it is, as his wisdom is not our wisdom, nor our ways his ways. "' Society And Solitude THE SEC@-C %ranch o the social passions is that which administers to society in general. "ith re#ard to this, I o%serve, that society, merely as society, without any particular hei#htenin#s, #ives us no positive pleasure in the en'oyment& %ut a%solute and entire solitude, that is, the total and perpetual e(clusion rom all society, is as #reat a positive pain as can almost %e conceived. There ore in the %alance %etween the pleasure o #eneral society and the pain o a%solute solitude, pain is the predominant idea. But the pleasure o any particular social en'oyment outwei#hs very considera%ly the uneasiness caused %y the want o that particular en'oyment& so that the stron#est sensations relative to the ha%itudes o particular society are sensations o pleasure. 1ood company, lively conversation, and the endearments o riendship, ill the mind with #reat pleasure& a temporary solitude, on the other hand, is itsel a#reea%le. This may perhaps prove that we are creatures desi#ned or contemplation as well as action& since solitude as well as society has its pleasures& as rom the ormer o%servation we may discern, that an entire li e o solitude contradicts the purposes o our %ein#, since death itsel is scarcely an idea o more terror. *' Sympathy- Imitation And Ambition =-CER this denomination o society, the passions are o a complicated !ind, and %ranch out into a variety o orms, a#reea%ly to that variety o ends they are to serve in the #reat chain o society. The three principal lin!s in this chain are sympathy, imitation, and ambition. .' Sympathy IT is %y the irst o these passions that we enter into the concerns o others& that we are moved as they are moved, and are never su ered to %e indi erent spectators o almost anythin# which men can do or su er. For D

sympathy must %e considered as a sort o su%stitution, %y which we are put into the place o another man, and a ected in many respects as he is a ected& so that this passion may either parta!e o the nature o those which re#ard sel Apreservation, and turnin# upon pain may %e a source o the su%lime or it may turn upon ideas o pleasure& and then whatever has %een said o the social a ections, whether they re#ard society in #eneral, or only some particular modes o it, may %e applica%le here. It is %y this principle chie ly that poetry, paintin#, and other a ectin# arts, trans use their passions rom one %reast to another, and are o ten capa%le o #ra tin# a deli#ht on wretchedness, misery, and death itsel . It is a common o%servation, that o%'ects which in the reality would shoc!, are in tra#ical, and such li!e representations, the source o a very hi#h species o pleasure. This, ta!en as a act, has %een the cause o much reasonin#. The satis action has %een commonly attri%uted, irst, to the com ort we receive in considerin# that so melancholy a story is no more than a iction& and, ne(t, to the contemplation o our own reedom rom the evils which we see represented. I am a raid it is a practice much too common in in)uiries o this nature, to attri%ute the cause o eelin#s which merely arise rom the mechanical structure o our %odies, or rom the natural rame and constitution o our minds, to certain conclusions o the reasonin# aculty on the o%'ects presented to us& or I should ima#ine, that the in luence o reason in producin# our passions is nothin# near so e(tensive as it is commonly %elieved. 9' The Effect Of Sympathy In The +istress Of Others T@ e(amine this point concernin# the e ect o tra#edy in a proper manner, we must previously consider how we are a ected %y the eelin#s o our ellowAcreatures in circumstances o real distress. I am convinced we have a de#ree o deli#ht, and that no small one, in the real mis ortunes and pains o others& or let the a ection %e what it will in appearance, i it does not ma!e us shun such o%'ects, i on the contrary it induces us to approach them, i it ma!es us dwell upon them, in this case I conceive we must have a deli#ht or pleasure o some species or other in contemplatin# o%'ects o this !ind. Co we not read the authentic histories o scenes o this nature with as much pleasure as romances or poems, where the incidents are ictitious, The prosperity o no empire, nor the #randeur o no !in#, can so a#reea%ly a ect in the readin#, as the ruin o the state o +acedon, and the distress o its unhappy prince. Such a catastrophe touches us in history as much as the destruction o Troy does in a%le. @ur deli#ht, in cases o this !ind, is very #reatly hei#htened, i the su erer %e some e(cellent person who sin!s under an unworthy ortune. Scipio and Cato are %oth virtuous characters& %ut we are more deeply a ected %y the violent death o the one, and the ruin o the #reat cause he adhered to, than with the deserved triumphs and uninterrupted prosperity o the other& or terror is a passion which always produce deli#ht when it does not press too closely& and pity is a passion accompanied with pleasure, %ecause it arises rom love and social a ection. "henever we are ormed %y nature to any active purpose, the passion which animates us to it is attended with deli#ht, or a pleasure o some !ind, let the su%'ectAmatter %e what it will& and as our Creator has desi#ned that we should %e united %y the %ond o sympathy, he has stren#thened that %ond %y a proportiona%le deli#ht& and there most where our sympathy is most wanted,Ein the distresses o others. I this passion was simply pain ul, we would shun with the #reatest care all persons and places that could e(cite such a passion& as some, who are so ar #one in indolence as not to endure any stron# impression, actually do. But the case is widely di erent with the #reater part o man!ind& there is no spectacle we so ea#erly pursue, as that o some uncommon and #rievous calamity& so that whether the mis ortune is %e ore our eyes, or whether they are turned %ac! to it in history, it always touches with deli#ht. This is not an unmi(ed deli#ht, %ut %lended with no small uneasiness. The deli#ht we have in such thin#s, hinders us rom shunnin# scenes o misery& and the pain we eel prompts us to relieve ourselves in relievin# those who su er& and all this antecedent to any reasonin#, %y an instinct that wor!s us to its own purposes without our concurrence. /' Of The Effects Of Tragedy IT is thus in real calamities. In imitated distresses the only di erence is the pleasure resultin# rom the e ects o imitation& or it is never so per ect, %ut we can perceive it is imitation, and on that principle are somewhat pleased with it. 6nd indeed in some cases we derive as much or more pleasure rom that source than rom the thin# itsel . But then I ima#ine we shall %e much mista!en, i we attri%ute any considera%le part o our satis action in tra#edy to the consideration that tra#edy is a deceit, and its representations no realities. The nearer it approaches the reality, and the arther it removes us rom all idea o iction, the more per ect is its power. But %e its power o what !ind it will, it never approaches to what it represents. Choose a day on which to represent the most su%lime and a ectin# tra#edy we have& appoint the most avourite actors& spare no cost upon the scenes and decorations, unite the #reatest e orts o poetry, paintin#, and music& and when you have collected your audience, 'ust at the moment when their minds are 4

erect with e(pectation, let it %e reported that a state criminal o hi#h ran! is on the point o %ein# e(ecuted in the ad'oinin# s)uare& in a moment the emptiness o the theatre would demonstrate the comparative wea!ness o the imitative arts, and proclaim the triumph o the real sympathy. I %elieve that this notion o our havin# a simple pain in the reality, yet a deli#ht in the representation, arises rom hence, that we do not su iciently distin#uish what we would %y no means choose to do, rom what we should %e ea#er enou#h to see i it was once done. The deli#ht in seein# thin#s, which, so ar rom doin#, our heartiest wishes would %e to see redressed. This no%le capital, the pride o En#land and o Europe, I %elieve no man is so stran#ely wic!ed as to desire to see destroyed %y a con la#ration or an earth)ua!e, thou#h he should %e removed himsel to the #reatest distance rom the dan#er. But suppose such a atal accident to have happened, what num%ers rom all parts would crowd to %ehold the ruins, and amon#st many who would have %een content never to have seen <ondon in its #lory9 -or is it, either in real or ictitious distresses, our immunity rom them which produces our deli#ht& in my own mind I can discover nothin# li!e it. I apprehend that this mista!e is owin# to a sort o sophism, %y which we are re)uently imposed upon& it arises rom our not distin#uishin# %etween what is indeed a necessary condition to our doin# or su erin# anythin# in #eneral, and what is the cause o some particular act. I a man !ills me with a sword, it is a necessary condition to this that we should have %een %oth o us alive %e ore the act& and yet it would %e a%surd to say, that our %ein# %oth livin# creatures was the cause o his crime and o my death. So it is certain, that it is a%solutely necessary my li e should %e out o any imminent ha8ard, %e ore I can ta!e a deli#ht in the su erin#s o others, real or ima#inary, or indeed in anythin# else rom any cause whatsoever. But then it is a sophism to ar#ue rom thence, that this immunity is the cause o my deli#ht either on these or on any occasions. -o one can distin#uish such a cause o satis action in his own mind, I %elieve& nay, when we do not su er any very acute pain, nor are e(posed to any imminent dan#er o our lives, we can eel or others, whilst we su er ourselves& and o ten then most when we are so tened %y a liction& we see with pity even distresses which we would accept in the place o our own. !' Imitation THE SEC@-C passion %elon#in# to society is imitation, or, i you will, a desire o imitatin#, and conse)uently a pleasure in it. This passion arises rom much the same cause with sympathy. For as sympathy ma!es us ta!e a concern in whatever men eel, so this a ection prompts us to copy whatever they do& and conse)uently we have a pleasure in imitatin#, and in whatever %elon#s to imitation, merely as it is such, without any intervention o the reasonin# aculty, %ut solely rom our natural constitution, which *rovidence has ramed in such a manner as to ind either pleasure or deli#ht, accordin# to the nature o the o%'ect, in whatever re#ards the purposes o our %ein#. It is %y imitation ar more than %y precept, that we learn everythin#& and what we learn thus, we ac)uire not only more e ectually, %ut more pleasantly. This orms our manners, our opinions, our lives. It is one o the stron#est lin!s o society& it is a species o mutual compliance, which all men yield to each other, without constraint to themselves, and which is e(tremely latterin# to all. Herein it is that paintin# and many other a#reea%le arts have laid one o the principal oundations o their power. 6nd since, %y its in luence on our manners and our passions, it is o such #reat conse)uence, I shall here venture to lay down a rule, which may in orm us with a #ood de#ree o certainty when we are to attri%ute the power o the arts to imitation, or to our pleasure in the s!ill o the imitator merely, and when to sympathy, or some other cause in con'unction with it. "hen the o%'ect represented in poetry or paintin# is such as we could have no desire o seein# in the reality, then I may %e sure that its power in poetry or paintin# is owin# to the power o imitation, and to no cause operatin# in the thin# itsel . So it is with most o the pieces which the painters call stillAli e. In these a cotta#e, a dun#hill, the meanest and most ordinary utensils o the !itchen, are capa%le o #ivin# us pleasure. But when the o%'ect o the paintin# or poem is such as we should run to see i real, let it a ect us with what odd sort o sense it will, we may rely upon it, that the power o the poem or picture is more owin# to the nature o the thin# itsel than to the mere e ect o imitation, or to a consideration o the s!ill o the imitator, however e(cellent. 6ristotle has spo!en so much and so %oldly upon the orce o imitation in his *oetics, that it ma!es any urther discourse upon this su%'ect the less necessary. 4' Ambition 6<TH@=1H imitation is one o the #reat instruments used %y *rovidence in %rin#in# our nature towards its per ection, yet i men #ave themselves up to imitation entirely, and each ollowed the other, and so on in an eternal circle, it is easy to see that there never could %e any improvement amon#st them. +en must remain as %rutes do, the same at the end that they are at this day, and that they were in the %e#innin# o the world. To prevent this, 1od has planted in man a sense o am%ition, and a satis action arisin# rom the contemplation o his e(cellin# his ellows in F

somethin# deemed valua%le amon#st them. It is this passion that drives men to all the ways we see in use o si#nali8in# themselves, and that tends to ma!e whatever e(cites in a man the idea o this distinction so very pleasant. It has %een so stron# as to ma!e very misera%le men ta!e com ort, that they were supreme in misery& and certain it is, that, where we cannot distin#uish ourselves %y somethin# e(cellent, we %e#in to ta!e a complacency in some sin#ular in irmities, ollies, or de ects o one !ind or other. It is on this principle that lattery is so prevalent& or lattery is no more than what raises in a manGs mind an idea o a pre erence which he has not. -ow, whatever, either on #ood or upon %ad #rounds, tends to raise a man in his own opinion, produces a sort o swellin# and triumph, that is e(tremely #rate ul to the human mind& and this swellin# is never more perceived, nor operates with more orce, than when without dan#er we are conversant with terri%le o%'ects& the mind always claimin# to itsel some part o the di#nity and importance o the thin#s which it contemplates. Hence proceeds what <on#inus has o%served o that #loryin# sense o inward #reatness, that always ills the reader o such passa#es in poets and orators as are su%lime& it is what every man must have elt in himsel upon such occasions. $' The &ecapitulation T@ draw the whole o what has %een said into a ew distinct points$AThe passions which %elon# to sel A preservation turn on pain and dan#er& they are simply pain ul when their causes immediately a ect us& they are deli#ht ul when we have an idea o pain and dan#er, without %ein# actually in such circumstances& this deli#ht I have not called pleasure, %ecause it turns on pain, and %ecause it is di erent enou#h rom any idea o positive pleasure. "hatever e(cites this deli#ht, I call sublime. The passions %elon#in# to sel Apreservation are the stron#est o all the passions. The second head to which the passions are re erred with relation to their inal cause, is society. There are two sorts o societies. The irst is, the society o se(. The passion %elon#in# to this is called love, and it contains a mi(ture o lust& its o%'ect is the %eauty o women. The other is the #reat society with man and all other animals. The passion su%servient to this is called li!ewise love, %ut it has no mi(ture o lust, and its o%'ect is %eauty& which is a name I shall apply to all such )ualities in thin#s as induce in us a sense o a ection and tenderness, or some other passion the most nearly resem%lin# these. The passion o love has its rise in positive pleasure& it is, li!e all thin#s which #row out o pleasure, capa%le o %ein# mi(ed with a mode o uneasiness, that is, when an idea o its o%'ect is e(cited in the mind with an idea at the same time o havin# irretrieva%ly lost it. This mi(ed sense o pleasure I have not called pain, %ecause it turns upon actual pleasure, and %ecause it is, %oth in its cause and in most o its e ects, o a nature alto#ether di erent. -e(t to the #eneral passion we have or society, to a choice in which we are directed %y the pleasure we have in the o%'ect, the particular passion under this head called sympathy has the #reatest e(tent. The nature o this passion is, to put us in the place o another in whatever circumstance he is in, and to a ect us in a li!e manner& so that this passion may, as the occasion re)uires, turn either on pain or pleasure& %ut with the modi ications mentioned in some cases in sect. II. 6s to imitation and pre erence, nothin# more need %e said. "5' The 7onclusion I BE<IE?EC that an attempt to ran#e and methodi8e some o our most leadin# passions would %e a #ood preparative to such an in)uiry as we are #oin# to ma!e in the ensuin# discourse. The passions I have mentioned are almost the only ones which it can %e necessary to consider in our present desi#n& thou#h the variety o the passions is #reat, and worthy in every %ranch o that variety, o an attentive investi#ation. The more accurately we search into the human mind, the stron#er traces we everywhere ind o his wisdom who made it. I a discourse on the use o the parts o the %ody may %e considered as an hymn to the Creator& the use o the passions, which are the or#ans o the mind, cannot %e %arren o praise to him, nor unproductive to ourselves o that no%le and uncommon union o science and admiration, which a contemplation o the wor!s o in inite wisdom alone can a ord to a rational mind$ whilst, re errin# to him whatever we ind o ri#ht or #ood or air in ourselves, discoverin# his stren#th and wisdom even in our own wea!ness and imper ection, honourin# them where we discover them clearly, and adorin# their pro undity where we are lost in our search, we may %e in)uisitive without impertinence, and elevated without pride& we may %e admitted, i I may dare to say so, into the counsels o the 6lmi#hty %y a consideration o his wor!s. The elevation o the mind ou#ht to %e the principal end o all our studies& which i they do not in some measure e ect, they are o very little service to us. But, %eside this #reat purpose, a consideration o the rationale o our passions seems to me very necessary or all who would a ect them upon solid and sure principles. It is not enou#h to !now them in #eneral$ to a ect them a ter a delicate manner, or to 'ud#e properly o any wor! desi#ned to a ect them, we should !now the e(act %oundaries o their several 'urisdictions& we should pursue them throu#h all their variety o /5

operations, and pierce into the inmost, and what mi#ht appear inaccessi%le, parts o our nature, uod latet arcand non enarrabile fibr!. "ithout all this it is possi%le or a man, a ter a con used manner, sometimes to satis y his own mind o the truth o his wor!& %ut he can never have a certain determinate rule to #o %y, nor can he ever ma!e his propositions su iciently clear to others. *oets, and orators, and painters, and those who cultivate other %ranches o the li%eral arts, have, without this critical !nowled#e, succeeded well in their several provinces, and will succeed$ as amon# arti icers there are many machines made and even invented without any e(act !nowled#e o the principles they are #overned %y. It is, I own, not uncommon to %e wron# in theory, and ri#ht in practice& and we are happy that it is so. +en o ten act ri#ht rom their eelin#s, who a terwards reason %ut ill on them rom principle$ %ut as it is impossi%le to avoid an attempt at such reasonin#, and e)ually impossi%le to prevent its havin# some in luence on our practice, surely it is worth ta!in# some pains to have it 'ust, and ounded on the %asis o sure e(perience. "e mi#ht e(pect that the artists themselves would have %een our surest #uides& %ut the artists have %een too much occupied in the practice$ the philosophers have done little& and what they have done, was mostly with a view to their own schemes and systems$ and as or those called critics, they have #enerally sou#ht the rule o the arts in the wron# place& they sou#ht it amon# poems, pictures, en#ravin#s, statues, and %uildin#s. But art can never #ive the rules that ma!e an art. This is, I %elieve, the reason why artists in #eneral, and poets principally, have %een con ined in so narrow a circle$ they have %een rather imitators o one another than o nature& and this with so aith ul an uni ormity, and to so remote an anti)uity, that it is hard to say who #ave the irst model. Critics ollow them, and there ore can do little as #uides. I can 'ud#e %ut poorly o anythin#, whilst I measure it %y no other standard than itsel . The true standard o the arts is in every manGs power& and an easy o%servation o the most common, sometimes o the meanest, thin#s in nature, will #ive the truest li#hts, where the #reatest sa#acity and industry, that sli#hts such o%servation, must leave us in the dar!, or, what is worse, amuse and mislead us %y alse li#hts. In an in)uiry it is almost everythin# to %e once in a ri#ht road. I am satis ied I have done %ut little %y these o%servations considered in themselves& and I never should have ta!en the pains to di#est them, much less should I have ever ventured to pu%lish them, i I was not convinced that nothin# tends more to the corruption o science than to su er it to sta#nate. These waters must %e trou%led, %e ore they can e(ert their virtues. 6 man who wor!s %eyond the sur ace o thin#s, thou#h he may %e wron# himsel , yet he clears the way or others, and may chance to ma!e even his errors su%servient to the cause o truth. In the ollowin# parts I shall in)uire what thin#s they are that cause in us the a ections o the su%lime and %eauti ul, as in this I have considered the a ections themselves. I only desire one avour,Ethat no part o this discourse may %e 'ud#ed o %y itsel , and independently o the rest& or I am sensi%le I have not disposed my materials to a%ide the test o a captious controversy, %ut o a so%er and even or#ivin# e(amination, that they are not armed at all points or %attle, %ut dressed to visit those who are willin# to #ive a peace ul entrance to truth.

PA&T II
' Of The Passion 7aused By The Sublime THE *6SSI@- caused %y the #reat and su%lime in nature, when those causes operate most power ully, is astonishment& and astonishment is that state o the soul, in which all its motions are suspended, with some de#ree o horror2. In this case the mind is so entirely illed with its o%'ect, that it cannot entertain any other, nor %y conse)uence reason on that o%'ect which employs it. Hence arises the #reat power o the su%lime, that, ar rom %ein# produced %y them, it anticipates our reasonin#s, and hurries us on %y an irresisti%le orce. 6stonishment, as I have said, is the e ect o the su%lime in its hi#hest de#ree& the in erior e ects are admiration, reverence, and respect. "' Terror -@ passion so e ectually ro%s the mind o all its powers o actin# and reasonin# as fear". For ear %ein# an apprehension o pain or death, it operates in a manner that resem%les actual pain. "hatever there ore is terri%le, with re#ard to si#ht, is su%lime too, whether this cause o terror %e endued with #reatness o dimensions or not& or it is impossi%le to loo! on anythin# as tri lin#, or contempti%le, that may %e dan#erous. There are many animals, who thou#h ar rom %ein# lar#e, are yet capa%le o raisin# ideas o the su%lime, %ecause they are considered as o%'ects o terror. 6s serpents and poisonous animals o almost all !inds. 6nd to thin#s o #reat dimensions, i we anne( an
2 .

*art I. sect. ., 3, D. *art I?. sect. .H>. //

adventitious idea o terror, they %ecome without comparison #reater. 6 level plain o a vast e(tent on land, is certainly no mean idea& the prospect o such a plain may %e as e(tensive as a prospect o the ocean$ %ut can it ever ill the mind with anythin# so #reat as the ocean itsel , This is owin# to several causes& %ut it is owin# to none more than this, that the ocean is an o%'ect o no small terror. Indeed, terror is in all cases whatsoever, either more openly or latently, the rulin# principle o the su%lime. Several lan#ua#es %ear a stron# testimony to the a inity o these ideas. They re)uently use the same word, to si#ni y indi erently the modes o astonishment or admiration, and those o terror. 01ree!2 is in 1ree!, either ear or wonder& 01ree!2 is terri%le or respecta%le& 01ree!2, to reverence or to ear. #ereor in <atin, is what 01ree!2 is in 1ree!. The Romans used the ver% stupeo, a term which stron#ly mar!s the state o an astonished mind, to e(press the e ect o either o simple ear or o astonishment& the word attonitus :thunderAstruc!; is e)ually e(pressive o the alliance o these ideas& and do not the French $tonnement, and the En#lish astonishment and ama%ement, point out as clearly the !indred emotions which attend ear and wonder, They who have a more #eneral !nowled#e o lan#ua#es, could produce, I ma!e no dou%t, many other and e)ually stri!in# e(amples. *' Obscurity T@ ma!e anythin# very terri%le, o%scurity3 seems in #eneral to %e necessary. "hen we !now the ull e(tent o any dan#er, when we can accustom our eyes to it, a #reat deal o the apprehension vanishes. Every one will %e sensi%le o this, who considers how #reatly ni#ht adds to our dread, in all cases o dan#er, and how much the notions o #hosts and #o%lins, o which none can orm clear ideas, a ect minds which #ive credit to the popular tales concernin# such sorts o %ein#s. Those despotic #overnments, which are ounded on the passions o men, and principally upon the passion o ear, !eep their chie as much as may %e rom the pu%lic eye. The policy has %een the same in many cases o reli#ion. 6lmost all the heathen temples were dar!. Even in the %ar%arous temples o the 6mericans at this day, they !eep their idol in a dar! part o the hut, which is consecrated to his worship. For this purpose too the Cruids per ormed all their ceremonies in the %osom o the dar!est woods, and in the shade o the oldest and most spreadin# oa!s. -o person seems %etter to have understood the secret o hei#htenin#, or o settin# terri%le thin#s, i I may use the e(pression, in their stron#est li#ht, %y the orce o a 'udicious o%scurity, than +ilton. His description o Ceath in the second %oo! is admira%ly studied& it is astonishin# with what a #loomy pomp, with what a si#ni icant and e(pressive uncertainty o stro!es and colourin#, he has inished the portrait o the !in# o terrors$ &'he other shape, If shape it might be called that shape had none Distinguishable, in member, (oint, or limb; )r substance might be called that shadow seemed; *or each seemed either; black he stood as night; *ierce as ten furies; terrible as hell; +nd shook a deadly dart. ,hat seemed his head 'he likeness of a kingly crown had on. In this description all is dar!, uncertain, con used, terri%le, and su%lime to the last de#ree. .' Of The +ifference Bet,een 7learness And Obscurity 2ith &egard To The Passions IT is one thin# to ma!e an idea clear, and another to ma!e it affecting to the ima#ination. I I ma!e a drawin# o a palace, or a temple, or a landscape, I present a very clear idea o those o%'ects& %ut then :allowin# or the e ect o imitation, which is somethin#; my picture can at most a ect only as the palace, temple, or landscape would have a ected in the reality. @n the other hand, the most lively and spirited ver%al description I can #ive raises a very o%scure and imper ect idea o such o%'ects& %ut then it is in my power to raise a stron#er emotion %y the description than I could do %y the %est paintin#. This e(perience constantly evinces. The proper manner o conveyin# the affections o the mind rom one to another, is %y words& there is a #reat insu iciency in all other methods o
3

*art I?. sect. /3H/>. /2

communication& and so ar is a clearness o ima#ery rom %ein# a%solutely necessary to an in luence upon the passions, that they may %e considera%ly operated upon, without presentin# any ima#e at all, %y certain sounds adapted to that purpose& o which we have a su icient proo in the ac!nowled#ed and power ul e ects o instrumental music. In reality, a #reat clearness helps %ut little towards a ectin# the passions, as it is in some sort an enemy to all enthusiasms whatsoever. 9' The Same Sub:ect 7ontinued THERE are two verses in HoraceGs 6rt o *oetry, that seem to contradict this opinion& or which reason I shall ta!e a little more pains in clearin# it up. The verses are, -egnius irritant animos demissa per aures, uam .u/ sunt oculis sub(ecta fidelibus. @n this the 6%%I du Bos ounds a criticism, wherein he #ives paintin# the pre erence to poetry in the article o movin# the passions& principally on account o the #reater clearness o the ideas it represents. I %elieve this e(cellent 'ud#e was led into this mista!e :i it %e a mista!e; %y his system& to which he ound it more con orma%le than I ima#ine it will %e ound %y e(perience. I !now several who admire and love paintin#, and yet who re#ard the o%'ects o their admiration in that art with coolness enou#h in comparison o that warmth with which they are animated %y a ectin# pieces o poetry or rhetoric. 6mon# the common sort o people, I never could perceive that paintin# had much in luence on their passions. It is true, that the %est sorts o paintin#, as well as the %est sorts o poetry, are not much understood in that sphere. But it is most certain, that their passions are very stron#ly roused %y a anatic preacher, or %y the %allads o ChevyAchase, or the Children in the "ood, and %y other little popular poems and tales that are current in that ran! o li e. I do not !now o any paintin#s, %ad or #ood, that produce the same e ect. So that poetry, with all its o%scurity, has a more #eneral, as well as a more power ul, dominion over the passions, than the other art. 6nd I thin! there are reasons in nature, why the o%scure idea, when properly conveyed, should %e more a ectin# than the clear. It is our i#norance o thin#s that causes all our admiration, and chie ly e(cites our passions. Jnowled#e and ac)uaintance ma!e the most stri!in# causes a ect %ut little. It is thus with the vul#ar& and all men are as the vul#ar in what they do not understand. The ideas o eternity and in inity are amon# the most a ectin# we have& and yet perhaps there is nothin# o which we really understand so little, as o in inity and eternity. "e do not anywhere meet a more su%lime description than this 'ustly cele%rated one o +ilton, wherein he #ives the portrait o Satan with a di#nity so suita%le to the su%'ect$ &0e above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent -tood like a tower; his form had yet not lost +ll her original brightness, nor appeared 1ess than archangel ruined, and th2 excess )f glory obscured3 as when the sun new risen 1ooks through the hori%ontal misty air -horn of his beams; or from behind the moon In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds )n half the nations; and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.& Here is a very no%le picture& and in what does this poetical picture consist, In ima#es o a tower, an archan#el, the sun risin# throu#h mists, or in an eclipse, the ruin o monarchs, and the revolutions o !in#doms. The mind is hurried out o itsel , %y a crowd o #reat and con used ima#es& which a ect %ecause they are crowded and con used. For, separate them, and you lose much o the #reatness& and 'oin them, and you in alli%ly lose the clearness. The ima#es raised %y poetry are always o this o%scure !ind& thou#h in #eneral the e ects o poetry are %y no means to %e attri%uted to the ima#es it raises& which point we shall e(amine more at lar#e herea ter B. But paintin#, when we have allowed or the pleasure o imitation, can only a ect simply %y the ima#es it presents& and even in paintin#, a 'udicious o%scurity in some thin#s contri%utes to the e ect o the picture& %ecause the ima#es in paintin# are e(actly similar to those in nature& and in nature, dar!, con used, uncertain ima#es have a #reater power on the ancy to orm
B

*art ?. /.

the #rander passions, than those have which are more clear and determinate. But where and when this o%servation may %e applied to practice, and how ar it shall %e e(tended, will %e %etter deduced rom the nature o the su%'ect, and rom the occasion, than rom any rules that can %e #iven. 4 I am sensi%le that this idea has met with opposition, and is li!ely still to %e re'ected %y several. But let it %e considered, that hardly anythin# can stri!e the mind with its #reatness, which does not ma!e some sort o approach towards in inity& which nothin# can do whilst we are a%le to perceive its %ounds& %ut to see an o%'ect distinctly, and to perceive its %ounds, is one and the same thin#. 6 clear idea is there ore another name or a little idea. There is a passa#e in the %oo! o 7o% ama8in#ly su%lime, and this su%limity is principally due to the terri%le uncertainty o the thin# descri%ed$ In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. 'hen a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood still, %ut I could not discern the orm thereo $ an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice,&-hall mortal man be more (ust than 5od6 "e are irst prepared with the utmost solemnity or the vision& we are irst terri ied, %e ore we are let even into the o%scure cause o our emotion& %ut when this #rand cause o terror ma!es it appearance, what is it, Is it not wrapt up in the shades o its own incomprehensi%le dar!ness, more aw ul, more stri!in#, more terri%le, than the liveliest description, than the clearest paintin#, could possi%ly represent it, "hen painters have attempted to #ive us clear representations o these very anci ul and terri%le ideas, they have, I thin!, almost always ailed& insomuch that I have %een at a loss, in all the pictures I have seen o hell, to determine whether the painter did not intend somethin# ludicrous. Several painters have handled a su%'ect o this !ind, with a view o assem%lin# as many horrid phantoms as their ima#ination could su##est& %ut all the desi#ns I have chanced to meet o the temptation o St. 6nthony were rather a sort o odd, wild #rotes)ues, than anythin# capa%le o producin# a serious passion. In all these su%'ects poetry is very happy. Its apparitions, its chimeras, its harpies, its alle#orical i#ures, are #rand and a ectin#& and thou#h ?ir#ilGs Fame and HomerGs Ciscord are o%scure, they are ma#ni icent i#ures. These i#ures in paintin# would %e clear enou#h, %ut I ear they mi#ht %ecome ridiculous. 9' Po,er BESICES those thin#s which directly su##est the idea o dan#er, and those which produce a similar e ect rom a mechanical cause, I !now o nothin# su%lime, which is not some modi ication o power. 6nd this %ranch rises, as naturally as the other two %ranches, rom terror, the common stoc! o everythin# that is su%lime. The idea o power, at irst view, seems o the class o those indi erent ones, which may e)ually %elon# to pain or to pleasure. But in reality, the a ection, arisin# rom the idea o vast power, is e(tremely remote rom that neutral character. For irst, we must remem%er>, that the idea o pain, in its hi#hest de#ree, is much stron#er than the hi#hest de#ree o pleasure& and that it preserves the same superiority throu#h all the su%ordinate #radations. From hence it is, that where the chances or e)ual de#rees o su erin# or en'oyment are in any sort e)ual, the idea o the su erin# must always %e prevalent. 6nd indeed the ideas o pain, and, a%ove all, o death, are so very a ectin#, that whilst we remain in the presence o whatever is supposed to have the power o in lictin# either, it is impossi%le to %e per ectly ree rom terror. 6#ain, we !now %y e(perience, that, or the en'oyment o pleasure, no #reat e orts o power are at all necessary& nay, we !now, that such e orts would #o a #reat way towards destroyin# our satis action$ or pleasure must %e stolen, and not orced upon us& pleasure ollows the will& and there ore we are #enerally a ected with it %y many thin#s o a orce #reatly in erior to our own. But pain is always in licted %y a power in some way superior, %ecause we never su%mit to pain willin#ly. So that stren#th, violence, pain, and terror, are ideas that rush in upon the mind to#ether. <oo! at a man, or any other animal o prodi#ious stren#th, and what is your idea %e ore re lection, Is it that this stren#th will %e su%servient to you, to your ease, to your pleasure, to your interest in any sense, -o& the emotion you eel is, lest this enormous stren#th should %e employed to the purposes o rapine D and destruction. That power derives all its su%limity rom the terror with which it is #enerally accompanied, will appear evidently rom its e ect in the very ew cases, in which it may %e possi%le to strip a considera%le de#ree o stren#th o its a%ility to hurt. "hen you do this, you spoil it o everythin# su%lime, and it immediately %ecomes contempti%le. 6n o( is a creature o vast stren#th& %ut he is an innocent creature, e(tremely servicea%le, and not at all dan#erous& or which reason the idea o an o( is %y no means #rand. 6 %ull is stron# too$ %ut his stren#th is o another !ind& o ten very destructive, seldom :at least amon#st us; o any use in our %usiness& the idea o a %ull is there ore #reat, and it has re)uently a place in su%lime descriptions, and elevatin# comparisons. <et us loo! at another stron# animal, in the two distinct li#hts in which we may consider him. The horse in the li#ht o a use ul %east, it or the plou#h, the
> D

*art I. sect. D. ?ide *art III. sect. 2/ /3

road, the dra t& in every social, use ul li#ht, the horse has nothin# su%lime$ %ut is it thus that we are a ected with him, whose neck is clothed with thunder, the glory of whose nostrils is terrible, who swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage, neither believeth that it is the sound of the trumpet6 In this description, the use ul character o the horse entirely disappears, and the terri%le and su%lime %la8e out to#ether. "e have continually a%out us animals o a stren#th that is considera%le, %ut not pernicious. 6mon#st these we never loo! or the su%lime& it comes upon us in the #loomy orest, and in the howlin# wilderness, in the orm o the lion, the ti#er, the panther, or rhinoceros. "henever stren#th is only use ul, and employed or our %ene it or our pleasure, then it is never su%lime$ or nothin# can act a#reea%ly to us, that does not act in con ormity to our will& %ut to act a#reea%ly to our will, it must %e su%'ect to us, and there ore can never %e the cause o a #rand and commandin# conception. The description o the wild ass, in 7o%, is wor!ed up into no small su%limity, merely %y insistin# on his reedom, and his settin# man!ind at de iance& otherwise the description o such an animal could have had nothin# no%le in it. ,ho hath loosed :says he; the bands of the wild ass6 whose house I have made the wilderness, and the barren land his dwellings. 0e scorneth the multitude of the city, neither regardeth he the voice of the driver. 'he range of the mountains is his pasture. The ma#ni icent description o the unicorn and o leviathan, in the same %oo!, is ull o the same hei#htenin# circumstances$ ,ill the unicorn be willing to serve thee6 canst thou bind the unicorn with his band in the furrow6 wilt thou trust him because his strength is great6&7anst thou draw out leviathan with an hook6&will he make a covenant with thee6 wilt thou take him for a servant for ever6 shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him6 In short, wheresoever we ind stren#th, and in what li#ht soever we loo! upon power we shall all alon# o%serve the su%lime the concomitant o terror, and contempt the attendant on a stren#th that is su%servient and inno(ious. The race o do#s, in many o their !inds, have #enerally a competent de#ree o stren#th and swi tness& and they e(ert these and other valua%le )ualities which they possess, #reatly to our convenience and pleasure. Co#s are indeed the most social, a ectionate, and amia%le animals o the whole %rute creation& %ut love approaches much nearer to contempt than is commonly ima#ined& and accordin#ly, thou#h we caress do#s, we %orrow rom them an appellation o the most despica%le !ind, when we employ terms o reproach& and this appellation is the common mar! o the last vileness and contempt in every lan#ua#e. "olves have not more stren#th than several species o do#s& %ut, on account o their unmana#ea%le ierceness, the idea o a wol is not despica%le& it is not e(cluded rom #rand descriptions and similitudes. Thus we are a ected %y stren#th, which is natural power. The power which arises rom institution in !in#s and commanders, has the same conne(ion with terror. Soverei#ns are re)uently addressed with the title o dread ma(esty. 6nd it may %e o%served, that youn# persons, little ac)uainted with the world, and who have not %een used to approach men in power, are commonly struc! with an awe which ta!es away the ree use o their aculties. ,hen I prepared my seat in the street, :says 7o%,; the young men saw me, and hid themselves. Indeed, so natural is this timidity with re#ard to power, and so stron#ly does it inhere in our constitution, that very ew are a%le to con)uer it, %ut %y mi(in# much in the %usiness o the #reat world, or %y usin# no small violence to their natural dispositions. I !now some people are o opinion, that no awe, no de#ree o terror, accompanies the idea o power& and have ha8arded to a irm, that we can contemplate the idea o 1od himsel without any such emotion. I purposely avoided, when I irst considered this su%'ect, to introduce the idea o that #reat and tremendous Bein#, as an e(ample in an ar#ument so li#ht as this& thou#h it re)uently occurred to me, not as an o%'ection to, %ut as a stron# con irmation o , my notions in this matter. I hope, in what I am #oin# to say, I shall avoid presumption, where it is almost impossi%le or any mortal to spea! with strict propriety. I say then that whilst we consider the 1odhead merely as he is an o%'ect o the understandin#, which orms a comple( idea o power, wisdom, 'ustice, #oodness, all stretched to a de#ree ar e(ceedin# the %ounds o our comprehension, whilst we consider the Civinity in this re ined and a%stracted li#ht, the ima#ination and passions are little or nothin# a ected. But %ecause we are %ound, %y the condition o our nature, to ascend to these pure and intellectual ideas, throu#h the medium o sensi%le ima#es, and to 'ud#e o these divine )ualities %y their evident acts and e(ertions, it %ecomes e(tremely hard to disentan#le our idea o the cause rom the e ect %y which we are led to !now it. Thus when we contemplate the Ceity, his attri%utes and their operation, comin# united on the mind, orm a sort o sensi%le ima#e, and as such are capa%le o a ectin# the ima#ination. -ow, thou#h in a 'ust idea o the Ceity perhaps none o his attri%utes are predominant, yet, to our ima#ination, his power is %y ar the most stri!in#. Some re lection, some comparin#, is necessary to satis y us o his wisdom, his 'ustice, and his #oodness. To %e struc! with his power, it is only necessary that we should open our eyes. But whilst we contemplate so vast an o%'ect, under the arm, as it were, o almi#hty power, and invested upon every side with omnipresence, we shrin! into the minuteness o our own nature, and are, in a manner, annihilated %e ore him. 6nd thou#h a consideration o his other attri%utes may relieve, in some measure, our apprehensions& yet no conviction o the 'ustice with which it is e(ercised, nor the mercy with which it is tempered, can wholly remove the terror that naturally arises rom a orce which nothin# can withstand. I we re'oice, we re'oice with trem%lin#$ and even whilst we are receivin# %ene its, we cannot %ut shudder at a power /B

which can con er %ene its o such mi#hty importance. "hen the prophet Cavid contemplated the wonders o wisdom and power which are displayed in the economy o man, he seems to %e struc! with a sort o divine horror, and cries out, *earfully and wonderfully am I made8 6n heathen poet has a sentiment o a similar nature& Horace loo!s upon it as the last e ort o philosophical ortitude, to %ehold without terror and ama8ement, this immense and #lorious a%ric o the universe$ 0unc solem, et stellas, et decedentia certis 'empora momentis, sunt .ui formidine nulla Imbuti spectent. <ucretius is a poet not to %e suspected o #ivin# way to superstitious terrors& yet when he supposes the whole mechanism o nature laid open %y the master o his philosophy, his transport on this ma#ni icent view, which he has represented in the colours o such %old and lively poetry, is overcast with a shade o secret dread and horror$ 0is ibi me rebus .u/dam divina voluptas Percipit, at.ue horror; .uod sic 9atura, tua vi 'am manifesta patens, ex omni parte retecta est. But the Scripture alone can supply ideas answera%le to the ma'esty o this su%'ect. In the Scripture, wherever 1od is represented as appearin# or spea!in#, everythin# terri%le in nature is called up to hei#hten the awe and solemnity o the Civine presence. The *salms, and the prophetical %oo!s, are crowded with instances o this !ind. 'he earth shook, :says the psalmist;, the heavens also dropped at the presence of the 1ord. 6nd, what is remar!a%le, the paintin# pre serves the same character, not only when he is supposed descendin# to ta!e ven#eance upon the wic!ed, %ut even when he e(erts the li!e plenitude o power in acts o %ene icence to man!ind. 'remble, thou earth8 at the presence of the 1ord; at the presence of 5od of :acob; which turned the rock into standing water, the flint into a fountain of waters8 It were endless to enumerate all the passa#es, %oth in the sacred and pro ane writers, which esta%lish the #eneral sentiment o man!ind, concernin# the insepara%le union o a sacred and reverential awe, with our ideas o the Civinity. Hence the common ma(im, Primus in orbe deos fecit timor. This ma(im may %e, as I %elieve it is, alse with re#ard to the ori#in o reli#ion. The ma!er o the ma(im saw how insepara%le these ideas were, without considerin# that the notion o some #reat power must %e always precedent to our dread o it. But this dread must necessarily ollow the idea o such a power, when it is once e(cited in the mind. It is on this principle that true reli#ion has, and must have, so lar#e a mi(ture o salutary ear& and that alse reli#ions have #enerally nothin# else %ut ear to support them. Be ore the Christian reli#ion had, as it were, humani8ed the idea o the Civinity, and %rou#ht it somewhat nearer to us, there was very little said o the love o 1od. The ollowers o *lato have somethin# o it, and only somethin#& the other writers o pa#an anti)uity, whether poets or philosophers, nothin# at all. 6nd they who consider with what in inite attention, %y what a disre#ard o every perisha%le o%'ect, throu#h what lon# ha%its o piety and contemplation, it is that any man is a%le to attain an entire love and devotion to the Ceity, will easily perceive, that it is not the irst, the most natural and the most stri!in#, e ect which proceeds rom that idea. Thus we have traced power throu#h its several #radations unto the hi#hest o all, where our ima#ination is inally lost& and we ind terror, )uite throu#hout the pro#ress, its insepara%le companion, and #rowin# alon# with it, as ar as we can possi%ly trace them. -ow as power is undou%tedly a capital source o the su%lime, this will point out evidently rom whence its ener#y is derived, and to what class o ideas we ou#ht to unite it. /' Pri)ation 6<< general privations are #reat, %ecause they are all terri%le& #acuity, Darkness, -olitude, and -ilence. "ith what a ire o ima#ination, yet with what severity o 'ud#ment, has ?ir#il amassed all these circumstances, where he !nows that all the ima#es o a tremendous di#nity ou#ht to %e united, at the mouth o hell9 where, %e ore he unloc!s the secrets o the #reat deep, he seems to %e sei8ed with a reli#ious horror, and to retire astonished at the %oldness o his own desi#ns$ Dii, .uibus imperium est animarum, umbr/.ueEsilentes9 ;t 7haos, et Phlegethon, loca nocte silentia late, -it mihi fas audita lo.ui; sit, numine vestro, />

Pandere res alta terra et cali#ine mersas. Ibant o%scuri, sola sub nocte, per um%ram, Per.ue domos Ditis vacuas, et inania regna. Ke su%terraneous #ods, whose aw ul sway The #lidin# #hosts and silent shades o%ey& @ Chaos hoar9 and *hle#ethon pro ound9 "hose solemn empire stretches wide around& 1ive me, ye #reat, tremendous powers, to tell @ scenes and wonders in the depth o hell$ 1ive me your mi#hty secrets to display From those black realms o dar!ness to the day.E*ITT. )bscure they went throu#h dreary shades that led 6lon# the waste dominions o the dead.ECRKCE-. !' ;astness 1RE6T-ESS4 o dimension is a power ul cause o the su%lime. This is too evident, and the o%servation too common, to need any illustration$ it is not so common to consider in what ways #reatness o dimension, vastness o e(tent or )uantity, has the most stri!in# e ect. For certainly, there are ways and modes, wherein the same )uantity o e(tension shall produce #reater e ects than it is ound to do in others. E(tension is either in len#th, hei#ht, or depth. @ these the len#th stri!es least& an hundred yards o even #round will never wor! such an e ect as a tower an hundred yards hi#h, or a roc! or mountain o that altitude. I am apt to ima#ine li!ewise, that hei#ht is less #rand than depth& and that we are more struc! at loo!in# down rom a precipice, than loo!in# up at an o%'ect o e)ual hei#ht& %ut o that I am not very positive. 6 perpendicular has more orce in ormin# the su%lime, than an inclined plane& and the e ects o a ru##ed and %ro!en sur ace seem stron#er than where it is smooth and polished. It would carry us out o our way to enter in this place into the cause o these appearances& %ut certain it is they a ord a lar#e and ruit ul ield o speculation. However, it may not %e amiss to add to these remar!s upon ma#nitude, that, as the #reat e(treme o dimension is su%lime, so the last e(treme o littleness is in some measure su%lime li!ewise$ when we attend to the in inite divisi%ility o matter, when we pursue animal li e into these e(cessively small, and yet or#ani8ed %ein#s, that escape the nicest in)uisition o the sense& when we push our discoveries yet downward, and consider those creatures so many de#rees yet smaller, and the still diminishin# scale o e(istence, in tracin# which the ima#ination is lost as well as the sense& we %ecome ama8ed and con ounded at the wonders o minuteness& nor can we distin#uish in its e ects this e(treme o littleness rom the vast itsel . For division must %e in inite as well as addition& %ecause the idea o a per ect unity can no more %e arrived at, than that o a complete whole, to which nothin# may %e added. 4' Infinity 6-@THER source o the su%lime is infinity; i it does not rather %elon# to the last. In inity has a tendency to ill the mind with that sort o deli#ht ul horror, which is the most #enuine e ect and truest test o the su%lime. There are scarce any thin#s which can %ecome the o%'ects o our senses, that are really and in their own nature in inite. But the eye not %ein# a%le to perceive the %ounds o many thin#s, they seem to %e in inite, and they produce the same e ects as i they were really so. "e are deceived in the li!e manner, i the parts o some lar#e o%'ect are so continued to any inde inite num%er, that the ima#ination meets no chec! which may hinder its e(tendin# them at pleasure. < "henever we repeat any idea re)uently, the mind, %y a sort o mechanism, repeats it lon# a ter the irst cause has ceased to operateF. 6 ter whirlin# a%out, when we sit down, the o%'ects a%out us still seem to whirl. 6 ter a lon# succession o noises, as the all o waters, or the %eatin# o or#eAhammers, the hammers %eat and the water roars in the ima#ination lon# a ter the irst sounds have ceased to a ect it& and they die away at last %y #radations which are scarcely percepti%le. I you hold up a strai#ht pole, with your eye to one end, it will seem e(tended to a
4 F

*art I?. sect. F. *art I?. sect. /2. /D

len#th almost incredi%le/5. *lace a num%er o uni orm and e)uiAdistant mar!s on this pole, they will cause the same deception, and seem multiplied without end. The senses, stron#ly a ected in some one manner, cannot )uic!ly chan#e their tenor, or adapt themselves to other thin#s& %ut they continue in their old channel until the stren#th o the irst mover decays. This is the reason o an appearance very re)uent in madmen& that they remain whole days and ni#hts, sometimes whole years, in the constant repetition o some remar!, some complaint, or son#& which havin# struc! power ully on their disordered ima#ination in the %e#innin# o their phrensy, every repetition rein orces it with new stren#th& and the hurry o their spirits, unrestrained %y the cur% o reason, continues it to the end o their lives. $' Succession And <niformity S=CCESSI@- and uniformity o parts are what constitute the arti icial in inite. /. -uccession; which is re)uisite that the parts may %e continued so lon# and in such a direction, as %y their re)uent impulses on the sense to impress the ima#ination with an idea o their pro#ress %eyond their actual limits. 2 =niformity; %ecause i the i#ures o the parts should %e chan#ed, the ima#ination at every chan#e inds a chec!& you are presented at every alteration with the termination o one idea, and the %e#innin# o another& %y which means it %ecomes impossi%le to continue that uninterrupted pro#ression, which alone can stamp on %ounded o%'ects the character o in inity //. It is in this !ind o arti icial in inity, I %elieve, we ou#ht to loo! or the cause why a rotund has such a no%le e ect. For in a rotund, whether it %e a %uildin# or a plantation, you can nowhere i( a %oundary& turn which way you will, the same o%'ect still seems to continue, and the ima#ination has no rest. But the parts must %e uni orm, as well as circularly disposed, to #ive this i#ure its ull orce& %ecause any di erence, whether it %e in the disposition, or in the i#ure, or even in the color o the parts, is hi#hly pre'udicial to the idea o in inity, which every chan#e must chec! and interrupt, at every alteration commencin# a new series. @n the same principles o succession and uni ormity, the #rand appearance o the ancient heathen temples, which were #enerally o%lon# orms, with a ran#e o uni orm pillars on every side, will %e easily accounted or. From the same cause also may %e derived the #rand e ect o the aisles in many o our own old cathedrals. The orm o a cross used in some churches seems to me not so eli#i%le as the parallelo#ram o the ancients& at least, I ima#ine it is not so proper or the outside. For, supposin# the arms o the cross every way e)ual, i you stand in a direction parallel to any o the side walls, or colonnades, instead o a deception that ma!es the %uildin# more e(tended than it is, you are cut o rom a considera%le part :twoAthirds; o its actual len#th& and to prevent all possi%ility o pro#ression, the arms o the cross, ta!in# a new direction, ma!e a ri#ht an#le with the %eam, and there%y wholly turn the ima#ination rom the repetition o the ormer idea. @r suppose the spectator placed where he may ta!e a direct view o such a %uildin#, what will %e the conse)uence, The necessary conse)uence will %e, that a #ood part o the %asis o each an#le ormed %y the intersection o the arms o the cross, must %e inevita%ly lost& the whole must o course assume a %ro!en, unconnected i#ure& the li#hts must %e une)ual, here stron#, and there wea!& without that no%le #radation which the perspective always e ects on parts disposed uninterruptedly in a ri#ht line. Some or all o these o%'ections will lie a#ainst every i#ure o a cross, in whatever view you ta!e it. I e(empli ied them in the 1ree! cross, in which these aults appear the most stron#ly& %ut they appear in some de#ree in all sorts o crosses. Indeed there is nothin# more pre'udicial to the #randeur o %uildin#s, than to a%ound in an#les& a ault o%vious in many& and owin# to an inordinate thirst or variety, which, whenever it prevails, is sure to leave very little true taste. 5' =agnitude In Building T@ the su%lime in %uildin#, #reatness o dimension seems re)uisite& or on a ew parts, and those small, the ima#ination cannot rise to any idea o in inity. -o #reatness in the manner can e ectually compensate or the want o proper dimensions. There is no dan#er o drawin# men into e(trava#ant desi#ns %y this rule& it carries its own caution alon# with it. Because too #reat a len#th in %uildin#s destroys the purpose o #reatness, which it was intended to promote& the perspective will lessen it in hei#ht as it #ains in len#th& and will %rin# it at last to a point& turnin# the whole i#ure into a sort o trian#le, the poorest in its e ect o almost any i#ure that can %e presented to the eye. I have ever o%served, that colonnades and avenues o trees o a moderate len#th, were, without comparison, ar #rander, than when they were su ered to run to immense distances. 6 true artist should put a #enerous deceit on
/5 //

*art I?. sect. /3. +r. 6ddison, in the Spectator, concernin# the pleasures o ima#ination, thin!s it is %ecause in the rotund at one #lance you see hal the %uildin#. This I do not ima#ine to %e the real cause. /4

the spectators, and e ect the no%lest desi#ns %y easy methods. Cesi#ns that are vast only %y their dimensions, are always the si#n o a common and low ima#ination. -o wor! o art can %e #reat, %ut as it deceives& to %e otherwise is the prero#ative o nature only. 6 #ood eye will i( the medium %etwi(t an e(cessive len#th or hei#ht, : or the same o%'ection lies a#ainst %oth,; and a short or %ro!en )uantity& and perhaps it mi#ht %e ascertained to a tolera%le de#ree o e(actness, i it was my purpose to descend ar into the particulars o any art. ' Infinity In Pleasing Ob:ects I-FI-ITK, thou#h o another !ind, causes much o our pleasure in a#reea%le, as well as o our deli#ht in su%lime, ima#es. The sprin# is the pleasantest o the seasons& and the youn# o most animals, thou#h ar rom %ein# completely ashioned, a ord a more a#reea%le sensation than the ullA#rown& %ecause the ima#ination is entertained with the promise o somethin# more, and does not ac)uiesce in the present o%'ect o the sense. In un inished s!etches o drawin#, I have o ten seen somethin# which pleased me %eyond the %est inishin#& and this I %elieve proceeds rom the cause I have 'ust now assi#ned. "' +ifficulty 6-@THER/2 source o #reatness is Difficulty. "hen any wor! seems to have re)uired immense orce and la%or to e ect it, the idea is #rand. Stonehen#e, neither or disposition nor ornament, has anythin# admira%le& %ut those hu#e rude masses o stone, set on end, and piled each on other, turn the mind on the immense orce necessary or such a wor!. -ay, the rudeness o the wor! increases this cause o #randeur, as it e(cludes the idea o art and contrivance& or de(terity produces another sort o e ect, which is di erent enou#h rom this. *' =agnificence >agnificence is li!ewise a source o the su%lime. 6 #reat pro usion o thin#s, which are splendid or valua%le in themselves, is magnificent. The starry heaven, thou#h it occurs so very re)uently to our view, never ails to e(cite an idea o #randeur. This cannot %e owin# to the stars themselves, separately considered. The num%er is certainly the cause. The apparent disorder au#ments the #randeur, or the appearance o care is hi#hly contrary to our idea o ma#ni icence. Besides, the stars lie in such apparent con usion, as ma!es it impossi%le on ordinary occasions to rec!on them. This #ives them the advanta#e o a sort o in inity. In wor!s o art, this !ind o #randeur, which consists in multitude, is to %e very courteously admitted& %ecause a pro usion o e(cellent thin#s is not to %e attained, or with too much di iculty& and %ecause in many cases this splendid con usion would destroy all use, which should %e attended to in most o the wor!s o art with the #reatest care& %esides, it is to %e considered, that unless you can produce an appearance o in inity %y your disorder, you will have disorder only without ma#ni icence. There are, however, a sort o irewor!s, and some other thin#s, that in this way succeed well, and are truly #rand. There are also many descriptions in the poets and orators, which owe their su%limity to a richness and pro usion o ima#es, in which the mind is so da88led as to ma!e it impossi%le to attend to that e(act coherence and a#reement o the allusions, which we should re)uire on every other occasion. I do not now remem%er a more stri!in# e(ample o this, than the description which is #iven o the !in#Gs army in the play o Henry the Fourth$ &+ll furnished, all in arms, +ll plumed like ostriches that with the wind ?aited like eagles having lately bathed3 +s full of spirit as the month of >ay, +nd gorgeous as the sun in >idsummer, ,anton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. I saw young 0arry with his beaver on @ise from the ground like feathered >ercury; +nd vaulted with such ease into his seat, +s if an angel dropp2d down from the clouds 'o turn and wind a fiery Pegasus.
/2

*art I?. sect. 3H>. /F

In that e(cellent %oo!, so remar!a%le or the vivacity o its descriptions as well as the solidity and penetration o its sentences, the "isdom o the Son o Sirach, there is a no%le pane#yric on the hi#h priest Simon the son o @nias& and it is a very ine e(ample o the point %e ore us$ 0ow was he honoured in the midst of the people, in his coming out of the sanctuary8 0e was as the morning star in the midst of a cloud, and as the moon at the full; as the sun shining upon the temple of the >ost 0igh, and as the rainbow giving light in the bright clouds3 and as the flower of roses in the spring of the year, as lilies by the rivers of waters, and as the frankincense tree in summer; as fire and incense in the censer, and as a vessel of gold set with precious stones; as a fair olive tree budding forth fruit, and as a cypress which groweth up to the clouds. ,hen he put on the robe of honour, and was clothed with the perfection of glory, when he went up to the holy altar, he made the garment of holiness honourable. 0e himself stood by the hearth of the altar, compassed with his brethren round about; as a young cedar in 1ibanus, and as palm trees compassed they him about. -o were all the sons of +aron in their glory, and the oblations of the 1ord in their hands, Ac. .' >ight H6?I-1 considered e(tension, so ar as it is capa%le o raisin# ideas o #reatness& colour comes ne(t under consideration. 6ll colours depend on light. <i#ht there ore ou#ht previously to %e e(amined& and with its opposite, dar!ness. "ith re#ard to li#ht, to ma!e it a cause capa%le o producin# the su%lime, it must %e attended with some circumstances, %esides its %are aculty o showin# other o%'ects. +ere li#ht is too common a thin# to ma!e a stron# impression on the mind, and without a stron# impression nothin# can %e su%lime. But such a li#ht as that o the sun, immediately e(erted on the eye, as it overpowers the sense, is a very #reat idea. <i#ht o an in erior stren#th to this, i it moves with #reat celerity, has the same power& or li#htnin# is certainly productive o #randeur, which it owes chie ly to the e(treme velocity o its motion. 6 )uic! transition rom li#ht to dar!ness, or rom dar!ness to li#ht, has yet a #reater e ect. But dar!ness is more productive o su%lime ideas than li#ht. @ur #reat poet was convinced o this& and indeed so ull was he o this idea, so entirely possessed with the power o a wellAmana#ed dar!ness, that in descri%in# the appearance o the Ceity, amidst that pro usion o ma#ni icent ima#es, which the #randeur o his su%'ect provo!es him to pour out upon every side, he is ar rom or#ettin# the o%scurity which surrounds the most incomprehensi%le o all %ein#s, %ut E"ith ma'esty o darkness round Circles his throne.E 6nd what is no less remar!a%le, our author had the secret o preservin# this idea, even when he seemed to depart the arthest rom it, when he descri%es the li#ht and #lory which lows rom the Civine presence& a li#ht which %y its very e(cess is converted into a species o dar!ness. Dark with e(cessive light thy s!irts appear. Here is an idea not only poetical in a hi#h de#ree, %ut strictly and philosophically 'ust. E(treme li#ht, %y overcomin# the or#ans o si#ht, o%literates all o%'ects, so as in its e ect e(actly to resem%le dar!ness. 6 ter loo!in# or some time at the sun, two %lac! spots, the impression which it leaves, seem to dance %e ore our eyes. Thus are two ideas as opposite as can %e ima#ined reconciled in the e(tremes o %oth& and %oth, in spite o their opposite nature, %rou#ht to concur in producin# the su%lime. 6nd this is not the only instance wherein the opposite e(tremes operate e)ually in avour o the su%lime, which in all thin#s a%hors mediocrity. 9' >ight In Building 6S the mana#ement o li#ht is a matter o importance in architecture, it is worth in)uirin#, how ar this remar! is applica%le to %uildin#. I thin! then, that all edi ices calculated to produce an idea o the su%lime, ou#ht rather to %e dar! and #loomy, and this or two reasons& the irst is, that dar!ness itsel on other occasions is !nown %y e(perience to have a #reater e ect on the passions than li#ht. The second is, that to ma!e an o%'ect very stri!in#, we should ma!e it as di erent as possi%le rom the o%'ects with which we have %een immediately conversant& when there ore you enter a %uildin#, you cannot pass into a #reater li#ht than you had in the open air& to #o into one some 25

ew de#rees less luminous, can ma!e only a tri lin# chan#e& %ut to ma!e the transition thorou#hly stri!in#, you ou#ht to pass rom the #reatest li#ht, to as much dar!ness as is consistent with the uses o architecture. 6 ni#ht the contrary rule will hold, %ut or the very same reason& and the more hi#hly a room is then illuminated, the #rander will the passion %e. /' 7olour 7onsidered As Producti)e Of The Sublime 6+@-1 colours, such as are so t or cheer ul :e(cept perhaps a stron# red which is cheer ul; are un it to produce #rand ima#es. 6n immense mountain covered with a shinin# #reen tur , is nothin#, in this respect, to one dar! and #loomy& the cloudy s!y is more #rand than the %lue& and ni#ht more su%lime and solemn than day. There ore in historical paintin#, a #ay or #audy drapery can never have a happy e ect$ and in %uildin#s, when the hi#hest de#ree o the su%lime is intended, the materials and ornaments ou#ht neither to %e white, nor #reen, nor yellow, nor %lue, nor a pale red, nor violet, nor spotted, %ut o sad and uscous colours, as %lac!, or %rown, or deep purple, and the li!e. +uch o #ildin#, mosaics, paintin#, or statues, contri%ute %ut little to the su%lime. This rule need not %e put in practice, e(cept where an uni orm de#ree o the most stri!in# su%limity is to %e produced, and that in every particular& or it ou#ht to %e o%served, that this melancholy !ind o #reatness, thou#h it %e certainly the hi#hest, ou#ht not to %e studied in all sorts o edi ices, where yet #randeur must %e studied$ in such cases the su%limity must %e drawn rom the other sources& with a strict caution however a#ainst anythin# li#ht and riant& as nothin# so e ectually deadens the whole taste o the su%lime. !' Sound And >oudness THE EKE is not the only or#an o sensation %y which a su%lime passion may %e produced. Sounds have a #reat power in these as in most other passions. I do not mean words, %ecause words do not a ect simply %y their sounds, %ut %y means alto#ether di erent. E(cessive loudness alone is su icient to overpower the soul, to suspend its action, and to ill it with terror. The noise o vast cataracts, ra#in# storms, thunder, or artillery, awa!es a #reat and aw ul sensation in the mind, thou#h we can o%serve no nicety or arti ice in those sorts o music. The shoutin# o multitudes has a similar e ect& and, %y the sole stren#th o the sound, so ama8es and con ounds the ima#ination, that, in this sta##erin# and hurry o the mind, the %estAesta%lished tempers can scarcely or%ear %ein# %orne down, and 'oinin# in the common cry, and common resolution o the crowd. 4' Suddenness 6 S=CCE- %e#innin# or sudden cessation o sound o any considera%le orce, has the name power. The attention is roused %y this& and the aculties driven orward, as it were, on their #uard. "hatever, either in si#hts or sounds, ma!es the transition rom one e(treme to the other easy, causes no terror, and conse)uently can %e no cause o #reatness. In everythin# sudden and une(pected, we are apt to start& that is, we have a perception o dan#er, and our nature rouses us to #uard a#ainst it. It may %e o%served that a sin#le sound o some stren#th, thou#h %ut o short duration, i repeated a ter intervals, has a #rand e ect. Few thin#s are more aw ul than the stri!in# o a #reat cloc!, when the silence o the ni#ht prevents the attention rom %ein# too much dissipated. The same may %e said o a sin#le stro!e on a drum, repeated with pauses& and o the successive irin# o cannon at a distance. 6ll the e ects mentioned in this section have causes very nearly ali!e. $' Intermitting 6 <@", tremulous, intermittin# sound, thou#h it seems in some respects opposite to that 'ust mentioned, is productive o the su%lime. It is worth while to e(amine this a little. The act itsel must %e determined %y every manGs own e(perience and re lection. I have already o%served /., that ni#ht increases our terror, more perhaps than anythin# else& it is our nature, when we do not !now what may happen to us, to ear the worst that can happen& and hence it is, that uncertainty is so terri%le, that we o ten see! to %e rid o it, at the ha8ard o certain mischie . -ow, some low, con used, uncertain sounds, leave us in the same ear ul an(iety concernin# their causes, that no li#ht, or an uncertain li#ht, does concernin# the o%'ects that surround us.
/.

Sect. .. 2/

uale per incertam lunam sub luce maligna ;st iter in sylvis.& E6 aint shadow o uncertain li#ht, <i!e as a lamp, whose li e doth ade away& @r as the moon clothed with cloudy ni#ht Coth show to him who wal!s in ear and #reat a ri#ht. S*E-SER. But li#ht now appearin# and now leavin# us, and so o and on, is even more terri%le than total dar!ness$ and a sort o uncertain sounds are, when the necessary dispositions concur, more alarmin# than a total silence. "5' The 7ries Of Animals S=CH sounds as imitate the natural inarticulate voices o men, or any animals in pain or dan#er, are capa%le o conveyin# #reat ideas& unless it %e the wellA!nown voice o some creature, on which we are used to loo! with contempt. The an#ry tones o wild %easts are e)ually capa%le o causin# a #reat and aw ul sensation 0inc exaudiri gemitus ir/.ue leonum #incla recusantum, et sera sub nocte rudentum; -etigeri.ue sues, at.ue in pr/sepibus ursi -/vire; et form/ magnorum ululare luporum. It mi#ht seem that these modulations o sound carry some conne(ion with the nature o the thin#s they represent, and are not merely ar%itrary& %ecause the natural cries o all animals, even o those animals with whom we have not %een ac)uainted, never ail to ma!e themselves su iciently understood& this cannot %e said o lan#ua#e. The modi ications o sound, which may %e productive o the su%lime, are almost in inite. Those I have mentioned are only a ew instances to show on what principles they are all %uilt. " ' Smell And Taste' Bitters And Stenchers -mells and 'astes have some share too in ideas o #reatness& %ut it is a small one, wea! in its nature, and con ined in its operations. I shall only o%serve, that no smells or tastes can produce a #rand sensation, e(cept e(cessive %itters, and intolera%le stenches. It is true, that these a ections o the smell and taste, when they are in their ull orce, and lean directly upon the sensory, are simply pain ul, and accompanied with no sort o deli#ht& %ut when they are moderated, as in a description or narrative, they %ecome sources o the su%lime, as #enuine as any other, and upon the very same principle o a moderated pain. L6 cup o %itterness&M Lto drain the %itter cup o ortune&M Lthe %itter apples o Sodom&M these are all ideas suita%le to a su%lime description. -or is this passa#e o ?ir#il without su%limity, where the stench o the vapour in 6l%unea conspires so happily with the sacred horror and #loominess o that prophetic orest$ +t rex sollicitus monstris oracula *auni *atidici genitoris adit, lucos.ue sub alta 7onsulit +lbunea, nemorum .u/ maxima sacro *onte sonat; sNvam)ue e(halat opaca +ephitim. In the si(th %oo!, and in a very su%lime description, the poisonous e(halation o 6cheron is not or#otten, nor does it all disa#ree with the other ima#es amon#st which it is introduced$ -pelunca alta fuit, vasto)ue immanis hiatu, -crupea, tuta lacu ni#ro, nemorum.ue tene%ris& uam super haud ull/ poterant impune volantes 'endere iter pennis3 talis sese halitus atris Fauci%us e undens supera ad conve(a ere%at. 22

I have added these e(amples, %ecause some riends, or whose 'ud#ment I have #reat de erence, were o opinion that i the sentiment stood na!edly %y itsel , it would %e su%'ect, at irst view, to %urles)ue and ridicule& %ut this I ima#ine would principally arise rom considerin# the %itterness and stench in company with mean and contempti%le ideas, with which it must %e owned they are o ten united& such an union de#rades the su%lime in all other instances as well as in those. But it is one o the tests %y which the su%limity o an ima#e is to %e tried, not whether it %ecomes mean when associated with mean ideas& %ut whether, when united with ima#es o an allowed #randeur, the whole composition is supported with di#nity. Thin#s which are terri%le are always #reat& %ut when thin#s possess disa#reea%le )ualities, or such as have indeed some de#ree o dan#er, %ut o a dan#er easily overcome, they are merely odious; as toads and spiders. ""' 6eeling' Pain' @F feeling, little more can %e said than that the idea o %odily pain, in all the modes and de#rees o la%our, pain, an#uish, torment, is productive o the su%lime,& and nothin# else in this sense can produce it. I need not #ive here any resh instances, as those #iven in the ormer sections a%undantly illustrate a remar! that, in reality, wants only an attention to nature, to %e made %y every%ody. < Havin# thus run throu#h the causes o the su%lime with re erence to all the senses, my irst o%servation :sect. D; will %e ound very nearly true& that the su%lime is an idea %elon#in# to sel Apreservation& that it is there ore one o the most a ectin# we have& that its stron#est emotion is an emotion distress& and that no pleasure /3 rom a positive cause %elon#s to it. -um%erless e(amples, %esides those mentioned, mi#ht %e %rou#ht in support o these truths, and many perhaps use ul conse)uences drawn rom themA -ed fugit interea, fugit irrevocabile tempus, -ingula dum capti circumvectamur amore.

PA&T III
' Of Beauty IT is my desi#n to consider %eauty as distin#uished rom the su%lime& and, in the course o the in)uiry, to e(amine how ar it is consistent with it. But previous to this, we must ta!e a short review o the opinions already entertained o this )uality& which I thin! are hardly to %e reduced to any i(ed principles& %ecause men are used to tal! o %eauty in a i#urative manner, that is to say, in a manner e(tremely uncertain, and indeterminate. By %eauty I mean that )uality or those )ualities in %odies, %y which they cause love, or some passion similar to it. I con ine this de inition to the merely sensi%le )ualities o thin#s, or the sa!e o preservin# the utmost simplicity in a su%'ect, which must always distract us whenever we ta!e in those various causes o sympathy which attach us to any persons or thin#s rom secondary considerations, and not rom the direct orce which they have merely on %ein# viewed. I li!ewise distin#uish love :%y which I mean that satis action which arises to the mind upon contemplatin# anythin# %eauti ul, o whatsoever nature it may %e; rom desire or lust& which is an ener#y o the mind, that hurries us on to the possession o certain o%'ects, that do not a ect us as they are %eauti ul, %ut %y means alto#ether di erent. "e shall have a stron# desire or a woman o no remar!a%le %eauty& whilst the #reatest %eauty in men or in other animals, thou#h it causes love, yet e(cites nothin# at all o desire. "hich shows that %eauty, and the passion caused %y %eauty, which I call love, is di erent rom desire, thou#h desire may sometimes operate alon# with it& %ut it is to this latter that we must attri%ute those violent and tempestuous passions, and the conse)uent emotions o the %ody, which attend what is called love in some o its ordinary acceptations, and not to the e ects o %eauty merely as it is such. "' Proportion (ot The 7ause Of Beauty In ;egetables BE6=TK hath usually %een said to consist in certain proportions o parts. @n considerin# the matter, I have #reat reason to dou%t, whether %eauty %e at all an idea %elon#in# to proportion. *roportion relates almost wholly to convenience, as every idea o order seems to do& and it must there ore %e considered as a creature o the understandin#, rather than a primary cause actin# on the senses and ima#ination. It is not %y the orce o lon# attention and in)uiry that we ind any o%'ect to %e %eauti ul& %eauty demands no assistance rom our reasonin#& even
/3

?ide *art I. sect. >. 2.

the will is unconcerned& the appearance o %eauty as e ectually causes some de#ree o love in us, as the application o ice or ire produces the ideas o heat or cold. To #ain somethin# li!e a satis actory conclusion in this point, it were well to e(amine, what proportion is& since several who ma!e use o that word do not always seem to understand very clearly the orce o the term, nor to have very distinct ideas concernin# the thin# itsel . *roportion is the measure o relative )uantity. Since all )uantity is divisi%le, it is evident that every distinct part, into which any )uantity is divided, must %ear some relation to the other parts, or to the whole. These relations #ive an ori#in to the idea o proportion. They are discovered %y mensuration, and they are the o%'ects o mathematical in)uiry. But whether any part o any determinate )uantity %e a ourth, or a i th, or a si(th, or a moiety o the whole& or whether it %e o e)ual len#th with any other part, or dou%le its len#th, or %ut one hal , is a matter merely indi erent to the mind& it stands neuter in the )uestion& and it is rom this a%solute indi erence and tran)uillity o the mind, that mathematical speculations derive some o their most considera%le advanta#es& %ecause there is nothin# to interest the ima#ination& %ecause the 'ud#ment sits ree and un%iassed to e(amine the point. 6ll proportions, every arran#ement o )uantity, is ali!e to the understandin#, %ecause the same truths result to it rom all& rom #reater, rom lesser, rom e)uality and ine)uality. But surely %eauty is no idea %elon#in# to mensuration& nor has it anythin# to do with calculation and #eometry. I it had, we mi#ht then point out some certain measures which we could demonstrate to %e %eauti ul, either as simply considered, or as relatin# to others& and we could call in those natural o%'ects, or whose %eauty we have no voucher %ut the sense, to this happy standard, and con irm the voice o our passions %y the determination o our reason. But since we have not this help, let us see whether proportion can in any sense %e considered as the cause o %eauty, as hath %een so #enerally, and %y some so con idently, a irmed. I proportion %e one o the constituents o %eauty, it must derive that power either rom some natural properties inherent in certain measures, which operate mechanically& rom the operation o custom& or rom the itness which some measures have to answer some particular ends o conveniency. @ur %usiness there ore is to in)uire, whether the parts o those o%'ects, which are ound %eauti ul in the ve#eta%le or animal !in#doms, are constantly so ormed accordin# to such certain measures, as may serve to satis y us that their %eauty results rom those measures, on the principle o a natural mechanical cause& or rom custom& or, in ine, rom their itness or any determinate purposes. I intend to e(amine this point under each o these heads in their order. But %e ore I proceed urther, I hope it will not %e thou#ht amiss, i I lay down the rules which #overned me in this in)uiry, and which have misled me in it, i I have #one astray. /. I two %odies produce the same or a similar e ect on the mind, and on e(amination they are ound to a#ree in some o their properties, and to di er in others& the common e ect is to %e attri%uted to the properties in which they a#ree, and not to those in which they di er. 2. -ot to account or the e ect o a natural o%'ect rom the e ect o an arti icial o%'ect. .. -ot to account or the e ect o any natural o%'ect rom a conclusion o our reason concernin# its uses, i a natural cause may %e assi#ned. 3. -ot to admit any determinate )uantity, or any relation o )uantity, as the cause o a certain e ect, i the e ect is produced %y di erent or opposite measures and relations& or i these measures and relations may e(ist, and yet the e ect may not %e produced. These are the rules which I have chie ly ollowed, whilst I e(amined into the power o proportion considered as a natural cause& and these, i he thin!s them 'ust, I re)uest the reader to carry with him throu#hout the ollowin# discussion& whilst we in)uire in the irst place, in what thin#s we ind this )uality o %eauty& ne(t, to see whether in these we can ind any assi#na%le proportions, in such a manner as ou#ht to convince us that our idea o %eauty results rom them. "e shall consider this pleasin# power, as it appears in ve#eta%les, in the in erior animals, and in man. Turnin# our eyes to the ve#eta%le creation, we ind nothin# there so %eauti ul as lowers& %ut lowers are almost o every sort o shape, and o every sort o disposition& they are turned and ashioned into an in inite variety o orms& and rom these orms %otanists have #iven them their names, which are almost as various. "hat proportion do we discover %etween the stal!s and the leaves o lowers, or %etween the leaves and the pistils, How does the slender stal! o the rose a#ree with the %ul!y head under which it %ends, But the rose is a %eauti ul lower& and can we underta!e to say that it does not owe a #reat deal o its %eauty even to that disproportion$ the rose is a lar#e lower, yet it #rows upon a small shru%& the lower o the apple is very small, and #rows upon a lar#e tree& yet the rose and the apple %lossom are %oth %eauti ul, and the plants that %ear them are most en#a#in#ly attired, notwithstandin# this disproportion. "hat %y #eneral consent is allowed to %e a more %eauti ul o%'ect than an oran#eAtree, lourishin# at once with its leaves, its %lossoms, and its ruit, %ut it is in vain that we search here or any proportion %etween the hei#ht, the %readth, or anythin# else concernin# the dimensions o the whole, or concernin# the relation o the particular parts to each other. I #rant that we may o%serve, in many lowers, somethin# o a re#ular i#ure, and o a methodical disposition o the leaves. The rose has such a i#ure and such a disposition o its petals& %ut in an o%li)ue view, when this i#ure is in a #ood measure lost, and the order o the leaves con ounded, it yet retains its %eauty& the rose is even more %eauti ul %e ore it is ull %lown& in the %ud, %e ore this e(act i#ure is ormed& and this is not the only instance 23

wherein method and e(actness, the soul o proportion, are ound rather pre'udicial than servicea%le to the cause o %eauty. *' Proportion (ot The 7ause Of Beauty In Animals TH6T proportion has %ut a small share in the ormation o %eauty, is ull as evident amon# animals. Here the #reatest variety o shapes and dispositions o parts are well itted to e(cite this idea. The swan, con essedly a %eauti ul %ird, has a nec! lon#er than the rest o his %ody, and %ut a very short tail$ is this a %eauti ul proportion, "e must allow that it is. But then what shall we say to the peacoc!, who has comparatively %ut a short nec!, with a tail lon#er than the nec! and the rest o the %ody ta!en to#ether, How many %irds are there that vary in initely rom each o these standards, and rom every other which you can i(& with proportions di erent, and o ten directly opposite to each other9 and yet many o these %irds are e(tremely %eauti ul& when upon considerin# them we ind nothin# in any one part that mi#ht determine us, a priori, to say what the others ou#ht to %e, nor indeed to #uess anythin# a%out them, %ut what e(perience mi#ht show to %e ull o disappointment and mista!e. 6nd with re#ard to the colours either o %irds or lowers, or there is somethin# similar in the colourin# o %oth, whether they are considered in their e(tension or #radation, there is nothin# o proportion to %e o%served. Some are o %ut one sin#le colour, others have all the colours o the rain%ow& some are o the primary colours, others are o the mi(t& in short, an attentive o%server may soon conclude, that there is as little o proportion in the colourin# as in the shapes o these o%'ects. Turn ne(t to %easts& e(amine the head o a %eauti ul horse& ind what proportion that %ears to his %ody, and to his lim%s, and what relations these have to each other& and when you have settled these proportions as a standard o %eauty, then ta!e a do# or cat, or any other animal, and e(amine how ar the same proportions %etween their heads and their nec!s, %etween those and the %ody, and so on, are ound to hold. I thin! we may sa ely say, that they di er in every species, yet that there are individuals, ound in a #reat many species so di erin#, that have a very stri!in# %eauty. -ow, i it %e allowed that very di erent and even contrary orms and dispositions are consistent with %eauty, it amounts I %elieve to a concession, that no certain measures, operatin# rom a natural principle, are necessary to produce it& at least so ar as the %rute species is concerned. .' Proportion (ot The 7ause Of Beauty In ?uman Species THERE are some parts o the human %ody that are o%served to hold certain proportions to each other& %ut %e ore it can %e proved that the e icient cause o %eauty lies in these, it must %e shown, that wherever these are ound e(act& the person to whom they %elon# is %eauti ul$ I mean in the e ect produced on the view, either o any mem%er distinctly considered, or o the whole %ody to#ether. It must %e li!ewise shown, that these parts stand in such a relation to each other, that the comparison %etween them may %e easily made, and that the a ection o the mind may naturally result rom it. For my part, I have at several times very care ully e(amined many o those proportions, and ound them hold very nearly or alto#ether ali!e in many su%'ects, which were not only very di erent rom one another, %ut where one has %een very %eauti ul, and the other very remote rom %eauty. "ith re#ard to the parts which are ound so proportioned, they are o ten so remote rom each other, in situation, nature, and o ice, that I cannot see how they admit o any comparison, nor conse)uently how any e ect owin# to proportion can result rom them. The nec!, say they, in %eauti ul %odies, should measure with the cal o the le#& it should li!ewise %e twice the circum erence o the wrist. 6nd an in inity o o%servations o this !ind are to %e ound in the writin#s and conversations o many. But what relation has the cal o the le# to the nec!& or either o these parts to the wrist, These proportions are certainly to %e ound in handsome %odies. They are as certainly in u#ly ones& as any who will ta!e the pains to try may ind. -ay, I do not !now %ut they may %e least per ect in some o the most %eauti ul. Kou may assi#n any proportion you please to every part o the human %ody& and I underta!e that a painter shall reli#iously o%serve them all, and notwithstandin# produce, i he pleases, a very u#ly i#ure. The same painter shall considera%ly deviate rom these proportions, and produce a very %eauti ul one. 6nd indeed it may %e o%served in the masterApieces o the ancient and modern statuary, that several o them di er very widely rom the proportions o others, in parts very conspicuous and o #reat consideration& and that they di er no less rom the proportions we ind in livin# men, o orms e(tremely stri!in# and a#reea%le. 6nd a ter all, how are the partisans o proportional %eauty a#reed amon#st themselves a%out the proportions o the human %ody, Some hold it to %e seven heads& some ma!e it ei#ht& whilst others e(tend it even to ten& a vast di erence in such a small num%er o divisions9 @thers ta!e other methods o estimatin# the proportions, and all with e)ual success. But are these proportions e(actly the same in all handsome men, or are they at all the proportions ound in %eauti ul women, -o%ody will say that they are& yet %oth se(es are undou%tedly capa%le o %eauty, and the emale o the #reatest& which advanta#e I 2B

%elieve will hardly %e attri%uted to the superior e(actness o proportion in the air se(. <et us rest a moment on this point& and consider how much di erence there is %etween the measures that prevail in many similar parts o the %ody, in the two se(es o this sin#le species only. I you assi#n any determinate proportions to the lim%s o a man, and i you limit human %eauty to these proportions, when you ind a woman who di ers in the ma!e and measures o almost every part, you must conclude her not to %e %eauti ul, in spite o the su##estions o your ima#ination& or, in o%edience to your ima#ination, you must renounce your rules& you must lay %y the scale and compass, and loo! out or some other cause o %eauty. For i %eauty %e attached to certain measures which operate rom a principle in nature, why should similar parts with di erent measures o proportion %e ound to have %eauty, and this too in the very same species, But to open our view a little, it is worth o%servin#, that almost all animals have parts o very much the same nature, and destined nearly to the same purposes& a head, nec!, %ody, eet, eyes, ears, nose, and mouth& yet *rovidence to provide in the %est manner or their several wants, and to display the riches o his wisdom and #oodness in his creation, has wor!ed out o these ew and similar or#ans and mem%ers, a diversity hardly short o in inite in their disposition, measures, and relation. But, as we have %e ore o%served, amidst this in inite diversity, one particular is common to many species$ several o the individuals which compose them are capa%le o a ectin# us with a sense o loveliness& and whilst they a#ree in producin# this e ect, they di er e(tremely in the relative measures o those parts which have produced it. These considerations were su icient to induce me to re'ect the notion o any particular proportions that operated %y nature to produce a pleasin# e ect& %ut those who will a#ree with me with re#ard to a particular proportion, are stron#ly prepossessed in avour o one more inde inite. They ima#ine, that althou#h %eauty in #eneral is anne(ed to no certain measures common to the several !inds o pleasin# plants and animals& yet that there is a certain proportion in each species a%solutely essential to the %eauty o that particular !ind. I we consider the animal world in #eneral, we ind %eauty con ined to no certain measures$ %ut as some peculiar measure and relation o parts is what distin#uishes each peculiar class o animals, it must o necessity %e, that the %eauti ul in each !ind will %e ound in the measures and proportions o that !ind& or otherwise it would deviate rom its proper species, and %ecome in some sort monstrous$ however, no species is so strictly con ined to any certain proportions, that there is not a considera%le variation amon#st the individuals& and as it has %een shown o the human, so it may %e shown o the %rute !inds, that %eauty is ound indi erently in all the proportions which each !ind can admit, without )uittin# its common orm& and it is this idea o a common orm that ma!es the proportion o parts at all re#arded, and not the operation o any natural cause$ indeed a little consideration will ma!e it appear, that it is not measure, %ut manner, that creates all the %eauty which %elon#s to shape. "hat li#ht do we %orrow rom these %oasted proportions, when we study ornamental desi#n, It seems ama8in# to me, that artists, i they were as well convinced as they pretend to %e, that proportion is a principal cause o %eauty, have not %y them at all times accurate measurements o all sorts o %eauti ul animals to help them to proper proportions, when they would contrive anythin# ele#ant& especially as they re)uently assert that it is rom an o%servation o the %eauti ul in nature they direct their practice. I !now that it has %een said lon#asince, and echoed %ac!ward and orward rom one writer to another a thousand times, that the proportions o %uildin# have %een ta!en rom those o the human %ody. To ma!e this orced analo#y complete, they represent a man with his arms raised and e(tended at ull len#th, and then descri%e a sort o s)uare, as it is ormed %y passin# lines alon# the e(tremities o this stran#e i#ure. But it appears very clearly to me, that the human i#ure never supplied the architect with any o his ideas. For, in the irst place, men are very rarely seen in this strained posture& it is not natural to them& neither is it at all %ecomin#. Secondly, the view o the human i#ure so disposed, does not naturally su##est the idea o a s)uare, %ut rather o a cross& as that lar#e space %etween the arms and the #round must %e illed with somethin# %e ore it can ma!e any%ody thin! o a s)uare. Thirdly, several %uildin#s are %y no means o the orm o that particular s)uare, which are notwithstandin# planned %y the %est architects, and produce an e ect alto#ether as #ood, and perhaps a %etter. 6nd certainly nothin# could %e more unaccounta%ly whimsical, than or an architect to model his per ormance %y the human i#ure, since no two thin#s can have less resem%lance or analo#y, than a man and a house, or temple$ do we need to o%serve, that their purposes are entirely di erent, "hat I am apt to suspect is this$ that these analo#ies were devised to #ive a credit to the wor! o art, %y showin# a con ormity %etween them and the no%lest wor!s in nature& not that the latter served at all to supply hints or the per ection o the ormer. 6nd I am the more ully convinced, that the patrons o proportion have trans erred their arti icial ideas to nature, and not %orrowed rom thence the proportions they use in wor!s o art& %ecause in any discussion o this su%'ect they always )uit as soon as possi%le the open ield o natural %eauties, the animal and ve#eta%le !in#doms, and orti y themselves within the arti icial lines and an#les o architecture. For there is in man!ind an un ortunate propensity to ma!e themselves, their views, and their wor!s, the measure o e(cellence in everythin# whatsoever. There ore, havin# o%served that their dwellin#s were most commodious and irm when they were thrown into re#ular i#ures, with parts answera%le to each other& they trans erred these ideas to their #ardens& they turned their trees into pillars, pyramids, and 2>

o%elis!s& they ormed their hed#es into so many #reen walls, and ashioned their wal!s into s)uares, trian#les, and other mathematical i#ures, with e(actness and symmetry& and they thou#ht, i they were not imitatin#, they were at least improvin# nature, and teachin# her to !now her %usiness. But nature has at last escaped rom their discipline and their etters& and our #ardens, i nothin# else, declare we %e#in to eel that mathematical ideas are not the true measures o %eauty. 6nd surely they are ull as little so in the animal as the ve#eta%le world. For is it not e(traordinary, that in these ine descriptive pieces, these innumera%le odes and ele#ies, which are in the mouths o all the world, and many o which have %een the entertainment o a#es, that in these pieces which descri%e love with such a passionate ener#y, and represent its o%'ect in such an in inite variety o li#hts, not one word is said o proportion, i it %e, what some insist it is, the principal component o %eauty& whilst, at the same time, several other )ualities are very re)uently and warmly mentioned, But i proportion has not this power, it may appear odd how men came ori#inally to %e so preApossessed in its avour. It arose, I ima#ine, rom the ondness I have 'ust mentioned, which men %ear so remar!a%ly to their own wor!s and notions& it arose rom alse reasonin#s on the e ects o the customary i#ure o animals& it arose rom the *latonic theory o itness and aptitude. For which reason, in the ne(t section, I shall consider the e ects o custom in the i#ure o animals& and a terwards the idea o itness$ since, i proportion does not operate %y a natural power attendin# some measures, it must %e either %y custom, or the idea o utility& there is no other way. 9' Proportion 6urther 7onsidered IF I am not mista!en, a #reat deal o the pre'udice in avour o proportion has arisen, not so much rom the o%servation o any certain measures ound in %eauti ul %odies, as rom a wron# idea o the relation which de ormity %ears to %eauty, to which it has %een considered as the opposite& on this principle it was concluded, that where the causes o de ormity were removed, %eauty must naturally and necessarily %e introduced. This I %elieve is a mista!e. For deformity is opposed not to %eauty, %ut to the complete common form. I one o the le#s o a man %e ound shorter than the other, the man is de ormed& %ecause there is somethin# wantin# to complete the whole idea we orm o a man& and this has the same e ect in natural aults, as maimin# and mutilation produce rom accidents. So i the %ac! %e humped, the man is de ormed& %ecause his %ac! has an unusual i#ure, and what carries with it the idea o some disease or mis ortune. So i a manGs nec! %e considera%ly lon#er or shorter than usual, we say he is de ormed in that part, %ecause men are not commonly made in that manner. But surely every hourGs e(perience may convince us, that a man may have his le#s o an e)ual len#th, and resem%lin# each other in all respects, and his nec! o a 'ust si8e, and his %ac! )uite strai#ht, without havin# at the same time the least perceiva%le %eauty. Indeed %eauty is so ar rom %elon#in# to the idea o custom, that in reality what a ects us in that manner is e(tremely rare and uncommon. The %eauti ul stri!es us as much %y its novelty as the de ormed itsel . It is thus in those species o animals with which we are ac)uainted& and i one o a new species were represented, we should %y no means wait until custom had settled an idea o proportion, %e ore we decided concernin# its %eauty or u#liness$ which shows that the #eneral idea o %eauty can %e no more owin# to customary than to natural proportion. Ce ormity arises rom the want o the common proportions& %ut the necessary result o their e(istence in any o%'ect is not %eauty. I we suppose proportion in natural thin#s to %e relative to custom and use, the nature o use and custom will show, that %eauty, which is a positive and power ul )uality, cannot result rom it. "e are so wonder ully ormed, that, whilst we are creatures vehemently desirous o novelty, we are as stron#ly attached to ha%it and custom. But it is the nature o thin#s which hold us %y custom, to a ect us very little whilst we are in possession o them, %ut stron#ly when they are a%sent. I remem%er to have re)uented a certain place every day or a lon# time to#ether& and I may truly say, that so ar rom indin# pleasure in it, I was a ected with a sort o weariness and dis#ust& I came, I went, I returned, without pleasure& yet i %y any means I passed %y the usual time o my #oin# thither, I was remar!a%ly uneasy, and was not )uiet till I had #ot into my old trac!. They who use snu , ta!e it almost without %ein# sensi%le that they ta!e it, and the acute sense o smell is deadened, so as to eel hardly anythin# rom so sharp a stimulus& yet deprive the snu A ta!er o his %o(, and he is the most uneasy mortal in the world. Indeed so ar are use and ha%it rom %ein# causes o pleasure, merely as such, that the e ect o constant use is to ma!e all thin#s o whatever !ind entirely una ectin#. For as use at last ta!es o the pain ul e ect o many thin#s, it reduces the pleasura%le e ect in others in the same manner, and %rin#s %oth to a sort o mediocrity and indi erence. ?ery 'ustly is use called a second nature& and our natural and common state is one o a%solute indi erence, e)ually prepared or pain or pleasure. But when we are thrown out o this state, or deprived o anythin# re)uisite to maintain us in it& when this chance does not happen %y pleasure rom some mechanical cause, we are always hurt. It is so with the second nature, custom, in all thin#s which relate to it. Thus the want o the usual proportions in men and other animals is sure to dis#ust, thou#h their presence is %y no means any cause o real pleasure. It is true, that the proportions laid down as causes o %eauty in 2D

the human %ody, are re)uently ound in %eauti ul ones, %ecause they are #enerally ound in all man!ind& %ut i it can %e shown too, that they are ound without %eauty, and that %eauty re)uently e(ists without them, and that this %eauty, where it e(ists, always can %e assi#ned to other less e)uivocal causes, it will naturally lead us to conclude, that proportion and %eauty are not ideas o the same nature. The true opposite to %eauty is not disproportion or de ormity, %ut ugliness3 and as it proceeds rom causes opposite to those o positive %eauty, we cannot consider it until we come to treat o that. Between %eauty and u#liness there is a sort o mediocrity, in which the assi#ned proportions are most commonly ound& %ut this has no e ect upon the passions. /' 6itness (ot The 7ause Of Beauty IT is said that the idea o utility, or o a partGs %ein# well adapted to answer its end, is the cause o %eauty, or indeed %eauty itsel . I it were not or this opinion, it had %een impossi%le or the doctrine o proportion to have held its #round very lon#& the world would %e soon weary o hearin# o measures which related to nothin#, either o a natural principle, or o a itness to answer some end& the idea which man!ind most commonly conceive o proportion, is the suita%leness o means to certain ends, and, where this is not the )uestion, very seldom trou%le themselves a%out the e ect o di erent measures o thin#s. There ore it was necessary or this theory to insist, that not only arti icial %ut natural o%'ects too! their %eauty rom the itness o the parts or their several purposes. But in ramin# this theory, I am apprehensive that e(perience was not su iciently consulted. For, on that principle, the wed#eAli!e snout o a swine, with its tou#h cartila#e at the end, the little sun! eyes, and the whole ma!e o the head, so well adapted to its o ices o di##in# and rootin#, would %e e(tremely %eauti ul. The #reat %a# han#in# to the %ill o a pelican, a thin# hi#hly use ul to this animal, would %e li!ewise as %eauti ul in our eyes. The hed#eAho#, so well secured a#ainst all assaults %y his pric!ly hide, and the porcupine with his missile )uills, would %e then considered as creatures o no small ele#ance. There are ew animals whose parts are %etter contrived than those o the mon!ey& he has the hands o a man, 'oined to the sprin#y lim%s o a %east& he is admira%ly calculated or runnin#, leapin#, #rapplin#, and clim%in#& and yet there are ew animals which seem to have less %eauty in the eyes o all man!ind. I need say little on the trun! o the elephant, o such various use ulness, and which is so ar rom contri%utin# to his %eauty. How well itted is the wol or runnin# and leapin#9 how admira%ly is the lion armed or %attle9 %ut will any one there ore call the elephant, the wol , and the lion, %eauti ul animals, I %elieve no%ody will thin! the orm o a manGs le# so well adapted to runnin#, as those o a horse, a do#, a deer, and several other creatures& at least they have not that appearance$ yet, I %elieve, a wellA ashioned human le# will %e allowed to ar e(ceed all these in %eauty. I the itness o parts was what constituted the loveliness o their orm, the actual employment o them would undou%tedly much au#ment it& %ut this, thou#h it is sometimes so upon another principle, is ar rom %ein# always the case. 6 %ird on the win# is not so %eauti ul as when it is perched& nay, there are several o the domestic owls which are seldom seen to ly, and which are nothin# the less %eauti ul on that account& yet %irds are so e(tremely di erent in their orm rom the %east and human !inds, that you cannot, on the principle o itness, allow them anythin# a#reea%le, %ut in consideration o their parts %ein# desi#ned or )uite other purposes. I never in my li e chanced to see a peacoc! ly& and yet %e ore, very lon# %e ore, I considered any aptitude in his orm or the aOrial li e, I was struc! with the e(treme %eauty which raises that %ird a%ove many o the %est lyin# owls in the world& thou#h, or anythin# I saw, his way o livin# was much li!e that o the swine, which ed in the armAyard alon# with him. The same may %e said o coc!s, hens, and the li!e& they are o the lyin# !ind in i#ure& in their manner o movin# not very di erent rom men and %easts. To leave these orei#n e(amples& i %eauty in our own species was anne(ed to use, men would %e much more lovely than women& and stren#th and a#ility would %e considered as the only %eauties. But to call stren#th %y the name o %eauty, to have %ut one denomination or the )ualities o a ?enus and Hercules, so totally di erent in almost all respects, is surely a stran#e con usion o ideas, or a%use o words. The cause o this con usion, I ima#ine, proceeds rom our re)uently perceivin# the parts o the human and other animal %odies to %e at once very %eauti ul, and very well adapted to their purposes& and we are deceived %y a sophism, which ma!es us ta!e that or a cause which is only a concomitant$ this is the sophism o the ly, who ima#ined he raised a #reat dust, %ecause he stood upon the chariot that really raised it. The stomach, the lun#s, the liver, as well as other parts, are incompara%ly well adapted to their purposes& yet they are ar rom havin# any %eauty. 6#ain, many thin#s are very %eauti ul, in which it is impossi%le to discern any idea o use. 6nd I appeal to the irst and most natural eelin#s o man!ind, whether on %eholdin# a %eauti ul eye, or a wellA ashioned mouth, or a wellAturned le#, any ideas o their %ein# well itted or seein#, eatin#, or runnin#, ever present themselves. "hat idea o use is it that lowers e(cite, the most %eauti ul part o the ve#eta%le world, It is true, that the in initely wise and #ood Creator has, o his %ounty, re)uently 'oined %eauty to those thin#s which he has made use ul to us$ %ut this does not prove that an idea o use and %eauty are the same thin#, or that they are any way dependent on each other. 24

!' The &eal Effects Of 6itness "HE- I e(cluded proportion and itness rom any share in %eauty, I did not %y any means intend to say that they were o no value, or that they ou#ht to %e disre#arded in wor!s o art. "or!s o art are the proper sphere o their power& and here it is that they have their ull e ect. "henever the wisdom o our Creator intended that we should %e a ected with anythin#, he did not con ide the e(ecution o his desi#n to the lan#uid and precarious operation o our reason& %ut he enduced it with powers and properties that prevent the understandin#, and even the will& which, sei8in# upon the senses and ima#ination, captivate the soul %e ore the understandin# is ready either to 'oin with them, or to oppose them. It is %y a lon# deduction, and much study, that we discover the adora%le wisdom o 1od in his wor!s$ when we discover it, the e ect is very di erent, not only in the manner o ac)uirin# it, %ut in its own nature, rom that which stri!es us without any preparation rom the su%lime or the %eauti ul. How di erent is the satis action o an anatomist, who discovers the use o the muscles and o the s!in, the e(cellent contrivance o the one or the various movements o the %ody, and the wonder ul te(ture o the other, at once a #eneral coverin#, and at once a #eneral outlet as well as inlet& how di erent is this rom the a ection which possesses an ordinary man at the si#ht o a delicate, smooth s!in, and all the other parts o %eauty, which re)uire no investi#ation to %e perceived9 In the ormer case, whilst we loo! up to the +a!er with admiration and praise, the o%'ect which causes it may %e odious and distaste ul& the latter very o ten so touches us %y its power on the ima#ination, that we e(amine %ut little into the arti ice o its contrivance& and we have need o a stron# e ort o our reason to disentan#le our minds rom the allurements o the o%'ect, to a consideration o that wisdom which invented so power ul a machine. The e ect o proportion and itness, at least so ar as they proceed rom a mere consideration o the wor! itsel , produces appro%ation, the ac)uiescence o the understandin#, %ut not love, nor any passion o that species. "hen we e(amine the structure o a watch, when we come to !now thorou#hly the use o every part o it, satis ied as we are with the itness o the whole, we are ar enou#h rom perceivin# anythin# li!e %eauty in the watchwor! itsel & %ut let us loo! on the case, the la%our o some curious artist in en#ravin#, with little or no idea o use, we shall have a much livelier idea o %eauty than we ever could have had rom the watch itsel , thou#h the masterApiece o 1raham. In %eauty, as I said, the e ect is previous to any !nowled#e o the use& %ut to 'ud#e o proportion, we must !now the end or which any wor! is desi#ned. 6ccordin# to the end, the proportion varies. Thus there is one proportion o a tower, another o a house& one proportion o a #allery, another o a hall, another o a cham%er. To 'ud#e o the proportions o these, you must %e irst ac)uainted with the purposes or which they were desi#ned. 1ood sense and e(perience, actin# to#ether, ind out what is it to %e done in every wor! o art. "e are rational creatures, and in all our wor!s we ou#ht to re#ard their end and purpose& the #rati ication o any passion, how innocent soever, ou#ht only to %e o a secondary consideration. Herein is placed the real power o itness and proportion& they operate on the understandin# considerin# them, which approves the wor! and ac)uiesces in it. The passions, and the ima#ination which principally raises them, have here very little to do. "hen a room appears in its ori#inal na!edness, %are walls and a plain ceilin#& let its proportion %e ever so e(cellent, it pleases very little& a cold appro%ation is the utmost we can reach& a much worse proportioned room with ele#ant mouldin#s and ine estoons, #lasses, and other merely ornamental urniture, will ma!e the ima#ination revolt a#ainst the reason& it will please much more than the na!ed proportion o the irst room, which the understandin# has so much approved as admira%ly itted or its purposes. "hat I have here said and %e ore concernin# proportion, is %y no means to persuade people a%surdly to ne#lect the idea o use in the wor!s o art. It is only to show that these e(cellent thin#s, %eauty and proportion, are not the same& not that they should either o them %e disre#arded. 4' The &ecapitulation @- the whole& i such parts in human %odies as are ound proportioned, were li!ewise constantly ound %eauti ul, as they certainly are not& or i they were so situated, as that a pleasure mi#ht low rom the comparison, which they seldom are& or i any assi#na%le proportions were ound, either in plants or animals, which were always attended with %eauty, which never was the case& or i , where parts were well adapted to their purposes, they were constantly %eauti ul, and when no use appeared, there was no %eauty, which is contrary to all e(perience& we mi#ht conclude, that %eauty consisted in proportion or utility. But since, in all respects, the case is )uite otherwise& we may %e satis ied that %eauty does not depend on these, let it owe its ori#in to what else it will. $' Perfection (ot The 7ause Of Beauty 2F

THERE is another notion current, pretty closely allied to the ormer& that Perfection is the constituent cause o %eauty. This opinion has %een made to e(tend much urther than to sensi%le o%'ects. But in these, so ar is per ection, considered as such, rom %ein# the cause o %eauty, that this )uality, where it is hi#hest, in the emale se(, almost always carries with it an idea o wea!ness and imper ection. "omen are very sensi%le o this& or which reason& they learn to lisp, to totter in their wal!, to counter eit wea!ness, and even sic!ness. In all they are #uided %y nature. Beauty in distress is much the most a ectin# %eauty. Blushin# has little less power& and modesty in #eneral, which is a tacit allowance o imper ection, is itsel considered as an amia%le )uality, and certainly hei#htens every other that is so. I !now it is in every%odyGs mouth, that we ou#ht to love per ection. This is to me a su icient proo , that it is not the proper o%'ect o love. "ho ever said we ought to love a ine woman, or even any o these %eauti ul animals which please us, Here to %e a ected, there is no need o the concurrence o our will. 5' ?o, 6ar Tthe Idea Of Beauty =ay Be Applied To The @ualities Of The =ind -@R is this remar! in #eneral less applica%le to the )ualities o the mind. Those virtues which cause admiration, and are o the su%limer !ind, produce terror rather than love& such as ortitude, 'ustice, wisdom, and the li!e. -ever was any man amia%le %y orce o these )ualities. Those which en#a#e our hearts, which impress us with a sense o loveliness, are the so ter virtues& easiness o temper, compassion, !indness, and li%erality& thou#h certainly those latter are o less immediate and momentous concern to society, and o less di#nity. But it is or that reason that they are so amia%le. The #reat virtues turn principally on dan#ers, punishments, and trou%les, and are e(ercised rather in preventin# the worst mischie s, than in dispensin# avours& and are there ore not lovely, thou#h hi#hly venera%le. The su%ordinate turn on relie s, #rati ications, and indul#ences& and are there ore more lovely, thou#h in erior in di#nity. Those persons who creep into the hearts o most people, who are chosen as the companions o their so ter hours, and their relie s rom care and an(iety, are never persons o shinin# )ualities or stron# virtues. It is rather the so t #reen o the soul on which we rest our eyes, that are ati#ued with %eholdin# more #larin# o%'ects. It is worth o%servin# how we eel ourselves a ected in readin# the characters o CNsar and Cato, as they are so inely drawn and contrasted in Sallust. In one the ignoscendo largiundo; in the other, nil largiundo. In one, the miseris perfugium; in the other, malis perniciem. In the latter we have much to admire, much to reverence, and perhaps somethin# to ear& we respect him, %ut we respect him at a distance. The ormer ma!ers us amiliar with him& we love him, and he leads us whither he pleases. To draw thin#s closer to our irst and most natural eelin#s, I will add a remar! made upon readin# this section %y an in#enious riend. The authority o a ather, so use ul to our wellA%ein#, and so 'ustly venera%le upon all accounts, hinders us rom havin# that entire love or him that we have or our mothers, where the parental authority is almost melted down into the motherGs ondness and indul#ence. But we #enerally have a #reat love or our #rand athers, in whom this authority is removed a de#ree orm us, and where the wea!ness o a#e mellows it into somethin# o a eminine partiality. ' ?o, 6ar The Idea Of ;irtue =ay Be Applied To Beauty FR@+ what has %een said in the ore#oin# section, we may easily see how ar the application o %eauty to virtue may %e made with propriety. The #eneral application o this )uality to virtue, has a stron# tendency to con ound our ideas o thin#s& and it has #iven rise to an in inite deal o whimsical theory& as the a i(in# the name o %eauty to proportion, con#ruity, and per ection, as well as to )ualities o thin#s yet more remote rom our natural ideas o it, and rom one another, has tended to con ound our ideas o %eauty, and le t us no standard or rule to 'ud#e %y, that was not even more uncertain and allacious than our own ancies. This loose and inaccurate manner o spea!in# has there ore misled us %oth in the theory o taste and o morals& and induced us to remove the science o our duties rom their proper %asis, :our reason, our relations, and our necessities,; to rest it upon oundations alto#ether visionary and unsu%stantial. "' The &eal 7ause Of Beauty H6?I-1 endeavoured to show what %eauty is not, it remains that we should e(amine, at least with e)ual attention, in what it really consists. Beauty is a thin# much too a ectin# not to depend upon some positive )ualities. 6nd, since it is no creature o our reason, since it stri!es us without any re erence to use, and even where no use at all can %e discerned, since the order and method o nature is #enerally very di erent rom our measures and proportions, we must conclude that %eauty is, or the #reater part, some )uality in %odies actin# mechanically upon the human mind %y the intervention o the senses. "e ou#ht there ore to consider attentively in what manner those .5

sensi%le )ualities are disposed, in such thin#s as %y e(perience we ind %eauti ul, or which e(cite in us the passion o love, or some correspondent a ection. *' Beautiful Ob:ects Small THE +@ST o%vious point that presents itsel to us in e(aminin# any o%'ect, is its e(tent or )uantity. 6nd what de#ree o e(tent prevails in %odies that are held %eauti ul, may %e #athered rom the usual manner o e(pression concernin# it. I am told that, in most lan#ua#es, the o%'ects o love are spo!en o under diminutive epithets. It is so in all lan#ua#es o which I have any !nowled#e. In 1ree! the 01ree!2 and other diminutive terms are almost always the terms o a ection and tenderness. These diminutives were commonly added %y the 1ree!s to the names o persons with whom they conversed on terms o riendship and amiliarity. Thou#h the Romans were a people o less )uic! and delicate eelin#s, yet they naturally slid into the lessenin# termination upon the same occasions. 6nciently in the En#lish lan#ua#e the diminishin# ling was added to the names o persons and thin#s that were the o%'ects o love. Some we retain still, as darling, :or little dear,; and a ew others. But, to this day, in ordinary conversation, it is usual to add the endearin# name o little to everythin# we love$ the French and Italians ma!e use o these a ectionate diminutives even more than we. In the animal creation, out o our own species, it is the small we are inclined to %e ond o & little %irds, and some o the smaller !inds o %easts. 6 #reat %eauti ul thin# is a manner o e(pression scarcely ever used& %ut that o a #reat u#ly thin# is very common. There is a wide di erence %etween admiration and love. The su%lime, which is the cause o the ormer, always dwells on #reat o%'ects, and terri%le& the latter on small ones, and pleasin#& we su%mit to what we admire, %ut we love what su%mits to us& in one case we are orced, in the other we are lattered, into compliance. In short, the ideas o the su%lime and the %eauti ul stand on oundations so di erent, that it is hard, I had almost said impossi%le, to thin! o reconcilin# them in the same su%'ect, without considera%ly lessenin# the e ect o the one or the other upon the passions. So that, attendin# to their )uantity, %eauti ul o%'ects are comparatively small. .' Smoothness THE -EPT property constantly o%serva%le in such o%'ects is smoothness<B3 a )uality so essential to %eauty, that I do not now recollect anythin# %eauti ul that is not smooth. In trees and lowers, smooth leaves are %eauti ul& smooth slopes o earth in #ardens& smooth streams in the landscape& smooth coats o %irds and %easts in animal %eauties& in ine women, smooth s!ins& and in several sorts o ornamental urniture, smooth and polished sur aces. 6 very considera%le part o the e ect o %eauty is owin# to this )uality& indeed the most considera%le. For, ta!e any %eauti ul o%'ect, and #ive it a %ro!en and ru##ed sur ace& and however well ormed it may %e in other respects, it pleases no lon#er. "hereas, let it want ever so many o the other constituents, i it wants not this, it %ecomes more pleasin# than almost all the others without it. This seems to me so evident, that I am a #ood deal surprised, that none who have handled the su%'ect have made any mention o the )uality o smoothness, in the enumeration o those that #o to the ormin# o %eauty. For indeed any ru##edness, any sudden pro'ection, any sharp an#le, is in the hi#hest de#ree contrary to that idea. 9' 1radual ;ariations B=T as per ectly %eauti ul %odies are not composed o an#ular parts, so their parts never continue lon# in the same ri#ht line/>. They vary their direction every moment, and they chan#e under the eye %y a deviation continually carryin# on, %ut or whose %e#innin# or end you will ind it di icult to ascertain a point. The view o a %eauti ul %ird will illustrate this o%servation. Here we see the head increasin# insensi%ly to the middle, rom whence it lessens #radually until it mi(es with the nec!& the nec! loses itsel in lar#er swell, which continues to the middle o the %ody, when the whole decreases a#ain to the tail& the tail ta!es a new direction& %ut it soon varies its new course$ it %lends a#ain with the other parts& and the line is perpetually chan#in#, a%ove, %elow, upon every side. In this description I have %e ore me the idea o a dove& it a#rees very well with most o the conditions o %eauty. It is smooth and downy& its parts are :to use that e(pression; melted into one another& you are presented with no sudden protu%erance throu#h the whole, and yet the whole is continually chan#in#. @%serve that part o a %eauti ul woman where she is perhaps the most %eauti ul, a%out the nec! and %reasts& the smoothness& the so tness& the easy and
/B />

(ote ' *art I?. sect. 2/. (ote ' *art I?. sect. 2.. ./

insensi%le swell& the variety o the sur ace, which is never or the smallest space the same& the deceit ul ma8e, throu#h which the unsteady eye slides #iddily, without !nowin# where to i( or whither it is carried. Is not this a demonstration o that chan#e o sur ace, continual, and yet hardly percepti%le at any point, which orms one o the #reat constituents o %eauty, It #ives me no small pleasure to ind that I can stren#then my theory in this point, %y the opinion o the very in#enious +r. Ho#arth& whose idea o the line o %eauty I ta!e in #eneral to %e e(tremely 'ust. But the idea o variation, without attendin# so accurately to the manner o the variation, has led him to consider an#ular i#ures as %eauti ul$ these i#ures, it is true, vary #reatly& yet they vary in a sudden and %ro!en manner& and I do not ind any natural o%'ect which is an#ular, and at the same time %eauti ul. Indeed ew natural o%'ects are entirely an#ular. But I thin! those which approach the most nearly to it are the u#liest. I must add too, that, so ar as I could o%serve o nature, thou#h the varied line is that alone in which complete %eauty is ound, yet there is no particular line which is always ound in the most completely %eauti ul, and which is there ore %eauti ul in pre erence to all other lines. 6t least I never could o%serve it. /' +elicacy 6- 6IR o ro%ustness and stren#th is very pre'udicial to %eauty. 6n appearance o delicacy, and even o ra#ility, is almost essential to it. "hoever e(amines the ve#eta%le or animal creation will ind this o%servation to %e ounded in nature. It is not the oa!, the ash, or the elm, or any o the ro%ust trees o the orest, which we consider as %eauti ul& they are aw ul and ma'estic& they inspire a sort o reverence. It is the delicate myrtle, it is the oran#e, it is the almond, it is the 'asmine, it is the vine, which we loo! on as ve#eta%le %eauties. It is the lowery species, so remar!a%le or its wea!ness and momentary duration, that #ives us the liveliest idea o %eauty and ele#ance. 6mon# animals, the #reyhound is more %eauti ul than the masti & and the delicacy o a #ennet, a %ar%, or an 6ra%ian horse, is much more amia%le than the stren#th and sta%ility o some horses o war or carria#e. I need here say little o the air se(, where I %elieve the point will %e easily allowed me. The %eauty o women is considera%ly owin# to their wea!ness or delicacy, and is even enhanced %y their timidity, a )uality o mind analo#ous to it. I would not here %e understood to say, that wea!ness %etrayin# very %ad health has any share in %eauty& %ut the ill e ect o this is not %ecause it is wea!ness, %ut %ecause the ill state o health, which produces such wea!ness, alters the other conditions o %eauty& the parts in such a case collapse& the %ri#ht color, the lumen purpureum (uvent/, is #one& and the ine variation is lost in wrin!les, sudden %rea!s, and ri#ht lines. !' Beauty In 7olour 6S to the colours usually ound in %eauti ul %odies, it may %e somewhat di icult to ascertain them, %ecause, in the several parts o nature, there is an in inite variety. However, even in this variety, we may mar! out somethin# on which to settle. First, the colours o %eauti ul %odies must not %e dus!y or muddy, %ut clean and air. Secondly, they must not %e o the stron#est !ind. Those which seem most appropriated to %eauty, are the milder o every sort& li#ht #reens& so t %lues& wea! whites& pin! reds& and violets. Thirdly, i the colours %e stron# and vivid, they are always diversi ied, and the o%'ect is never o one stron# colour& there are almost always such a num%er o them, :as in varie#ated lowers,; that the stren#th and #lare o each is considera%ly a%ated. In a ine comple(ion, there is not only some variety in the colourin#, %ut the colours$ neither the red nor the white are stron# and #larin#. Besides, they are mi(ed in such a manner, and with such #radations, that it is impossi%le to i( the %ounds. @n the same principle it is, that the du%ious colour in the nec!s and tails o peacoc!s, and a%out the heads o dra!es, is so very a#reea%le. In reality, the %eauty %oth o shape and colourin# are as nearly related, as we can well suppose it possi%le or thin#s o such di erent natures to %e. 4' &ecapitulation @- the whole, the )ualities o %eauty, as they are merely sensi%le )ualities, are the ollowin#$ First, to %e comparatively small. Secondly, to %e smooth. Thirdly, to have a variety in the direction o the parts& %ut, ourthly, to have those parts not an#ular, %ut melted as it were into each other. Fi thly, to %e o a delicate rame, without any remar!a%le appearance o stren#th. Si(thly, to have its colours clear and %ri#ht, %ut not very stron# and #larin#. Seventhly, or i it should have any #larin# colour, to have it diversi ied with others. These are, I %elieve, the properties on which %eauty depends& properties that operate %y nature, and are less lia%le to %e altered %y caprice, or con ounded %y a diversity o tastes, than any other. .2

$' The Physiognomy THE physiognomy has a considera%le share in %eauty, especially in that o our own species. The manners #ive a certain determination to the countenance& which, %ein# o%served to correspond pretty re#ularly with them, is capa%le o 'oinin# the e ect o certain a#reea%le )ualities o the mind to those o the %ody. So that to orm a inished human %eauty, and to #ive it its ull in luence, the ace must %e e(pressive o such #entle and amia%le )ualities as correspond with the so tness, smoothness, and delicacy o the outward orm. "5' The Eye I H6?E hitherto purposely omitted to spea! o the eye, which has so #reat a share in the %eauty o the animal creation, as it did not all so easily under the ore#oin# heads, thou#h in act it is reduci%le to the same principles. I thin!, then, that the %eauty o the eye consists, irst, in its clearness; what coloured eye shall please most, depends a #ood deal on particular ancies& %ut none are pleased with an eye whose water :to use that term; is dull and muddy /D. "e are pleased with the eye in this view, on the principle upon which we li!e diamonds, clear water, #lass, and such li!e transparent su%stances. Secondly, the motion o the eye contri%utes to its %eauty, %y continually shi tin# its direction& %ut a slow and lan#uid motion is more %eauti ul than a %ris! one& the latter is enlivenin#& the ormer lovely. Thirdly, with re#ard to the union o the eye with the nei#h%ourin# parts, it is to hold the same rule that is #iven o other %eauti ul ones& it is not to ma!e a stron# deviation rom the line o the nei#h%ourin# parts& nor to ver#e into any e(act #eometrical i#ure. Besides all this, the eye a ects, as it is e(pressive o some )ualities o the mind, and its principal power #enerally arises rom this& so that what we have 'ust said o the physio#nomy is applica%le here. " ' <gliness IT may perhaps appear li!e a sort o repetition o what we have %e ore said, to insist here upon the nature o ugliness; as I ima#ine it to %e in all respects the opposite to those )ualities which we have laid down or the constituents o %eauty. But thou#h u#liness %e the opposite to %eauty, it is not the opposite to proportion and itness. For it is possi%le that a thin# may %e very u#ly with any proportions, and with a per ect itness to any uses. =#liness I ima#ine li!ewise to %e consistent enou#h with an idea o the su%lime. But I would %y no means insinuate that u#liness o itsel is a su%lime idea, unless united with such )ualities as e(cite a stron# terror. ""' 1race 5racefulness is an idea not very di erent rom %eauty& it consists o much the same thin#s. 1race ulness is an idea %elon#in# to posture and motion. In %oth these, to %e #race ul, it is re)uisite that there %e no appearance o di iculty& there is re)uired a small in lection o the %ody& and a composure o the parts in such a manner, as not to encum%er each other, not to appear divided %y sharp and sudden an#les. In this ease, this roundness, this delicacy o attitude and motion, it is that all the ma#ic o #race consists, and what is called its (e ne sCai .uoi; as will %e o%vious to any o%server, who considers attentively the ?enus de +edicis, the 6ntinous, or any statue #enerally allowed to %e #race ul in a hi#h de#ree. "*' Elegance And Speciousness "HE- any %ody is composed o parts smooth and polished without pressin# upon each other, without showin# any ru##edness or con usion, and at the same time a ectin# some regular shape, I call it elegant. It is closely allied to the %eauti ul, di erin# rom it only in this regularity; which, however, as it ma!es a very material di erence in the a ection produced, may very well constitute another species. =nder this head I ran! those delicate and re#ular wor!s o art, that imitate no determinate o%'ect in nature, as ele#ant %uildin#s, and pieces o urniture. "hen any o%'ect parta!es o the a%oveAmentioned )ualities, or o those o %eauti ul %odies, and is withal o #reat dimensions, it is ull as remote rom the idea o mere %eauty& I call it fine or specious. ".' The Beautiful In 6eeling
/D

(ote ' *art I?. sect. 2B. ..

THE F@RE1@I-1 description o %eauty, so ar as it is ta!en in %y the eye, may %e #reatly illustrated %y descri%in# the nature o o%'ects, which produce a similar e ect throu#h the touch. This I call the %eauti ul in *eeling. It corresponds wonder ully with what causes the same species o pleasure to the si#ht. There is a chain in all our sensations& they are all %ut di erent sorts o eelin#s calculated to %e a ected %y various sorts o o%'ects, %ut all to %e a ected a ter the same manner. 6ll %odies that are pleasant to the touch, are so %y the sli#htness o the resistance they ma!e. Resistance is either to motion alon# the sur ace, or to the pressure o the parts on one another$ i the ormer %e sli#ht, we call the %ody smooth& i the latter, so t. The chie pleasure we receive %y eelin#, is in the one or the other o these )ualities& and i there %e a com%ination o %oth, our pleasure is #reatly increased. This is so plain, that it is rather more it to illustrate other thin#s, than to %e illustrated itsel %y an e(ample. The ne(t source o pleasure in this sense, as in every other, is the continually presentin# somewhat new& and we ind that %odies which continually vary their sur ace, are much the most pleasant or %eauti ul to the eelin#, as any one that pleases may e(perience. The third property in such o%'ects is, that thou#h the sur ace continually varies its direction, it never varies it suddenly. The application o anythin# sudden, even thou#h the impression itsel have little or nothin# o violence, is disa#reea%le. The )uic! application o a in#er a little warmer or colder than usual, without notice, ma!es us start& a sli#ht tap on the shoulder, not e(pected, has the same e ect. Hence it is that an#ular %odies, %odies that suddenly vary the direction o the outline, a ord so little pleasure to the eelin#. Every such chan#e is a sort o clim%in# or allin# in miniature& so that s)uares, trian#les, and other an#ular i#ures, are neither %eauti ul to the si#ht nor eelin#. "hoever compares his state o mind, on eelin# so t, smooth, varie#ated, unan#ular %odies, with that in which he inds himsel , on the view o a %eauti ul o%'ect, will perceive a very stri!in# analo#y in the e ects o %oth& and which may #o a #ood way towards discoverin# their common cause. Feelin# and si#ht, in this respect, di er in %ut a ew points. The touch ta!es in the pleasure o so tness, which is not primarily an o%'ect o si#ht& the si#ht, on the other hand, comprehends colour, which can hardly %e made percepti%le to the touch& the touch, a#ain, has the advanta#e in a new idea o pleasure resultin# rom a moderate de#ree o warmth& %ut the eye triumphs in the in inite e(tent and multiplicity o its o%'ects. But there is such a similitude in the pleasures o these senses, that I am apt to ancy, i it were possi%le that one mi#ht discern colour %y eelin#, :as it is said some %lind men have done,; that the same colours, and the same disposition o colourin#, which are ound %eauti ul to the si#ht, would %e ound li!ewise most #rate ul to the touch. But, settin# aside con'ectures, let us pass to the other sense& o Hearin#. "9' The Beautiful In Sounds I- this sense we ind an e)ual aptitude to %e a ected in a so t and delicate manner& and how ar sweet or %eauti ul sounds a#ree with our descriptions o %eauty in other senses, the e(perience o every one must decide. +ilton has descri%ed this species o music in one o his 'uvenile poems. I need not say that +ilton was per ectly well versed in that art& and that no man had a iner ear, with a happier manner o e(pressin# the a ections o one sense %y metaphors ta!en rom another. The description is as ollows$ E6nd ever a#ainst eatin# cares, <ap me in soft <ydian airs& In notes with many a winding %out @ linked sweetness long drawn out& "ith wanton heed, and #iddy cunnin#, The melting voice throu#h ma%es runnin#& =ntwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul o harmony. <et us parallel this with the so tness, the windin# sur ace, the un%ro!en continuance, the easy #radation o the %eauti ul in other thin#s& and all the diversities o the several senses, with all their several a ections, will rather help to throw li#hts rom one another to inish one clear, consistent idea o the whole, than to o%scure it %y their intricacy and variety. < To the a%oveAmentioned description I shall add one or two remar!s. The irst is& that the %eauti ul in music will not %ear that loudness and stren#th o sounds, which may %e used to raise other passions& nor notes which are shrill, or harsh, or deep& it a#rees %est with such as are clear, even, smooth, and wea!. The second is& that #reat variety, and )uic! transitions rom one measure or tone to another, are contrary to the #enius o the %eauti ul in .3

music. Such transitions/4 o ten e(cite mirth, or other sudden and tumultuous passions& %ut not that sin!in#, that meltin#, that lan#uor, which is the characteristical e ect o the %eauti ul as it re#ards every sense. The passion e(cited %y %eauty is in act nearer to a species o melancholy, than to 'ollity and mirth. I do not here mean to con ine music to any one species o notes, or tones, neither is it an art in which I can say I have any #reat s!ill. +y sole desi#n in this remar! is, to settle a consistent idea o %eauty. The in inite variety o the a ections o the soul will su##est to a #ood head, and s!il ul ear, a variety o such sounds as are itted to raise them. It can %e no pre'udice to this, to clear and distin#uished some ew particulars, that %elon# to the same class, and are consistent with each other, rom the immense crowd o di erent, and sometimes contradictory, ideas, that ran! vul#arly under the standard o %eauty. 6nd o these it is my intention to mar! such only o the leadin# points as show the con ormity o the sense o Hearin# with all the other senses, in the article o their pleasures. "/' Taste And Smell THIS #eneral a#reement o the senses is yet more evident on minutely considerin# those o taste and smell. "e metaphorically apply the idea o sweetness to si#hts and sounds& %ut as the )ualities o %odies, %y which they are itted to e(cite either pleasure or pain in these senses, are not so o%vious as they are in the others, we shall re er an e(planation o their analo#y, which is a very close one, to that part, wherein we come to consider the common e icient cause o %eauty, as it re#ards all the senses. I do not thin! anythin# %etter itted to esta%lish a clear and settled idea o visual %eauty than this way o e(aminin# the similar pleasures o other senses& or one part is sometimes clear in one o the senses, that is more o%scure in another& and where there is a clear concurrence o all, we may with more certainty spea! o any one o them. By this means, they %ear witness to each other& nature is, as it were, scrutini8ed& and we report nothin# o her %ut what we receive rom her own in ormation. "!' The Sublime And Beautiful 7ompared @- closin# this #eneral view o %eauty, it naturally occurs, that we should compare it with the su%lime& and in this comparison there appears a remar!a%le contrast. For su%lime o%'ects are vast in their dimensions, %eauti ul ones comparatively small$ %eauty should %e smooth and polished& the #reat, ru##ed and ne#li#ent& %eauty should shun the ri#ht line, yet deviate rom it insensi%ly& the #reat in many cases loves the ri#ht line, and when it deviates it o ten ma!es a stron# deviation$ %eauty should not %e o%scure& the #reat ou#ht to %e dar! and #loomy$ %eauty should %e li#ht and delicate& the #reat ou#ht to %e solid, and even massive. They are indeed ideas o a very di erent nature, one %ein# ounded on pain, the other on pleasure& and however they may vary a terwards rom the direct nature o their causes, yet these causes !eep up an eternal distinction %etween them, a distinction never to %e or#otten %y any whose %usiness it is to a ect the passions. In the in inite variety o natural com%inations, we must e(pect to ind the )ualities o thin#s the most remote ima#ina%le rom each other united in the same o%'ect. "e must e(pect also to ind com%inations o the same !ind in the wor!s o art. But when we consider the power o an o%'ect upon our passions, we must !now that when anythin# is intended to a ect the mind %y the orce o some predominant property, the a ection produced is li!e to %e the more uni orm and per ect, i all the other properties or )ualities o the o%'ect %e o the same nature, and tendin# to the same desi#n, as the principal. If black and white blend, soften, and unite + thousand ways, are there no black and white6 I the )ualities o the su%lime and %eauti ul are sometimes ound 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 opposite and contradictory, Blac! and white may so ten, may %lend& %ut they are not there ore the same. -or, when they are so so tened and %lended with each other, or with di erent colours, is the power o %lac! as %lac!, or o white as white, so stron# as when each stands uni orm and distin#uished.

PA&T I;
' Of The Efficient 7ause Of The Sublime And Beautiful
/4

I neGer am merry, when I hear sweet music.ESH6JES*E6RE. .B

"HE- I say I intend to in)uire into the e icient cause o Su%limity and Beauty, I would not %e understood to say, that I can come to the ultimate cause. I do not pretend that I shall ever %e a%le to e(plain, why certain a ections o the %ody produce such a distinct emotion o mind, and no other& or why the %ody is at all a ected %y the mind, or the mind %y the %ody. 6 little thou#ht will show this to %e impossi%le. But I conceive, i we can discover what a ections o the mind produce certain emotions o the %ody, and what distinct eelin#s and )ualities o %ody shall produce certain determinate passions in the mind, and no others, I ancy a #reat deal will %e done& somethin# not unuse ul towards a distinct !nowled#e o our passions, so ar at least as we have them at present under our consideration. This is all, I %elieve, we can do. I we could advance a step arther, di iculties would still remain, as we should %e still e)ually distant rom the irst cause. "hen -ewton irst discovered the property o attraction, and settled its laws, he ound it served very well to e(plain several o the most remar!a%le phNnomena in nature& %ut yet, with re erence to the #eneral system o thin#s, he could consider attraction %ut as an e ect, whose cause at that time he did not attempt to trace. But when he a terwards %e#an to account or it %y a su%tle elastic Nther, this #reat man :i in so #reat a man it %e not impious to discover anythin# li!e a %lemish; seemed to have )uitted his usual cautious manner o philosophi8in#& since, perhaps, allowin# all that has %een advanced on this su%'ect to %e su iciently proved, I thin! it leaves us with as many di iculties as it ound us. The #reat chain o causes, which lin!s one to another, even to the throne o 1od himsel , can never %e unravelled %y any industry o ours. "hen we #o %ut one step %eyond the immediate sensi%le )ualities o thin#s, we #o out o our depth. 6ll we do a ter is %ut a aint stru##le, that shows we are in an element which does not %elon# to us. So that when I spea! o cause, and e icient cause, I only mean certain a ections o the mind, that cause certain chan#es in the %ody& or certain powers and properties in %odies, that wor! a chan#e in the mind. 6s i I were to e(plain the motion o a %ody allin# to the #round, I would say it was caused %y #ravity& and I would endeavour to show a ter what manner this power operated, without attemptin# to show why it operated in this manner$ or i I were to e(plain the e ects o %odies stri!in# one another %y the common laws o percussion, I should not endeavour to e(plain how motion itsel is communicated. "' Association IT is no small %ar in the way o our in)uiry into the cause o our passions, that the occasions o many o them are #iven, and that their #overnin# motions are communicated at a time when we have not capacity to re lect on them& at a time o which all sort o memory is worn out o our minds. For %esides such thin#s as a ect us in various manners, accordin# to their natural powers, there are associations made at that early season, which we ind it very hard a terwards to distin#uish rom natural e ects. -ot to mention the unaccounta%le antipathies which we ind in many persons, we all ind it impossi%le to remem%er when a steep %ecame more terri%le than a plain& or ire or water more terri%le than a clod o earth& thou#h all these are very pro%a%ly either conclusions rom e(perience, or arisin# rom the premonitions o others& and some o them impressed, in all li!elihood, pretty late. But as it must %e allowed that many thin#s a ect us a ter a certain manner, not %y any natural powers they have or that purpose, %ut %y association& so it would %e a%surd, on the other hand, to say that all thin#s a ect us %y association only& since some thin#s must have %een ori#inally and naturally a#reea%le or disa#reea%le, rom which the others derive their associated powers& and it would %e, I ancy, to little purpose to loo! or the cause o our passions in association, until we ail o it in the natural properties o thin#s. *' 7ause Of Pain And 6ear I H6?E %e ore o%served/F, that whatever is )uali ied to cause terror is a oundation capa%le o the su%lime& to which I add, that not only these, %ut many thin#s rom which we cannot pro%a%ly apprehend any dan#er, have a similar e ect, %ecause they operate in a similar manner. I o%served too 25, that whatever produces pleasure, positive and ori#inal pleasure, is it to have %eauty in#ra ted on it. There ore, to clear up the nature o these )ualities, it may %e necessary to e(plain the nature o pain and pleasure on which they depend. 6 man who su ers under violent %odily pain, :I suppose the most violent, %ecause the e ect may %e the more o%vious;, I say a man in #reat pain has his teeth set, his eye%rows are violently contracted, his orehead is wrin!led, his eyes are dra##ed inwards, and rolled with #reat vehemence, his hair stands on end, the voice is orced out in short shrie!s and #roans, and the whole a%ric totters. Fear, or terror, which is an apprehension o pain or death, e(hi%its e(actly the same e ects,
/F 25

*art I. sect. 4. *art I. sect. 4. .>

approachin# in violence to those 'ust mentioned, in proportion to the nearness o the cause, and the wea!ness o the su%'ect. This is not only so in the human species& %ut I have more than once o%served in do#s, under an apprehension o punishment, that they have writhed their %odies, and yelped, and howled, as i they had actually elt the %lows. From hence I conclude, that pain and ear act upon the same parts o the %ody, and in the same manner, thou#h somewhat di erin# in de#ree& that pain and ear consist in an unnatural tension o the nerves& that this is sometimes accompanied with an unnatural stren#th, which sometimes suddenly chan#es into an e(traordinary wea!ness& that these e ects o ten come on alternately, and are sometimes mi(ed with each other. This is the nature o all convulsive a#itations, especially in wea!er su%'ects, which are the most lia%le to the severest impressions o pain and ear. The only di erence %etween pain and terror is, that thin#s which cause pain operate on the mind %y the intervention o the %ody& whereas thin#s that cause terror #enerally a ect the %odily or#ans %y the operation o the mind su##estin# the dan#er& %ut %oth a#reein#, either primarily or secondarily, in producin# a tension, contraction, or violent emotion o the nerves2/, they a#ree li!ewise in everythin# else. For it appears very clearly to me, rom this, as well as rom many other e(amples, that when the %ody is disposed, %y any means whatsoever, to such emotions as it would ac)uire %y the means o a certain passion& it will o itsel e(cite somethin# very li!e that passion in the mind. .' 7ontinued T@ this purpose +r. Spon, in his RIcherches dG 6nti)uitI, #ives us a curious story o the cele%rated physio#nomist Campanella. This man, it seems, had not only made very accurate o%servations on human aces, %ut was very e(pert in mimic!in# such as were any way remar!a%le. "hen he had a mind to penetrate into the inclinations o those he had to deal with, he composed his ace, his #esture, and his whole %ody, as nearly as he could into the e(act similitude o the person he intended to e(amine& and then care ully o%served what turn o mind he seemed to ac)uire %y this chan#e. So that, says my author, he was a%le to enter into the dispositions and thou#hts o people as e ectually as i he had %een chan#ed into the very men. I have o ten o%served, that on mimic!in# the loo!s and #estures o an#ry, or placid, or ri#hted, or darin# men, I have involuntarily ound my mind turned to that passion, whose appearance I endeavoured to imitate& nay, I am convinced it is hard to avoid it, thou#h one strove to separate the passion rom its correspondent #estures. @ur minds and %odies are so closely and intimately connected, that one is incapa%le o pain or pleasure without the other. Campanella, o whom we have %een spea!in#, could so a%stract his attention rom any su erin#s o his %ody, that he was a%le to endure the rac! itsel without much pain& and in lesser pains every%ody must have o%served, that, when we can employ our attention on anythin# else, the pain has %een or a time suspended$ on the other hand, i %y any means the %ody is indisposed to per orm such #estures, or to %e stimulated into such emotions, as any passion usually produces in it, that passion itsel never can arise, thou#h its cause should %e never so stron#ly in action& thou#h it should %e merely mental, and immediately a ectin# none o the senses. 6s an opiate or spirituous li)uors, shall suspend the operation o #rie , or ear, or an#er, in spite o all our e orts to the contrary& and this %y inducin# in the %ody a disposition contrary to that which it receives rom these passions. 9' ?o, The Sublime Is Produced H6?I-1 considered terror as producin# an unnatural tension and certain violent emotions o the nerves& it easily ollows, rom what we have 'ust said, that whatever is itted to produce such a tension must %e productive o a passion similar to terror 22, and conse)uently must %e a source o the su%lime, thou#h it should have no idea o dan#er connected with it. So that little remains towards showin# the cause o the su%lime, %ut to show that the instances we have #iven o it in the second part relate to such thin#s as are itted %y nature to produce this sort o tension, either %y the primary operation o the mind or the %ody. "ith re#ard to such thin#s as e ect %y the associated idea o dan#er, there can %e no dou%t %ut that they produce terror, and act %y some modi ication o that passion& and that terror, when su iciently violent, raises the emotions o the %ody 'ust mentioned, can as little %e dou%ted. But i the su%lime is %uilt on terror, or some passion li!e it, which has pain or its o%'ect, it is previously proper to in)uire how any species o deli#ht can %e derived rom a cause so apparently contrary to it. I say delight,
2/

I do not here enter into the )uestion de%ated amon# physiolo#ists, whether pain %e the e ect o a contraction, or a tension o the nerves. Either will serve my purpose& or %y tension, I mean no more than a violent pullin# o the i%res, which compose any muscle or mem%rane, in whatever way this is done. 22 (ote ' *art II. sect. 2. .D

%ecause, as I have o ten remar!ed, it is very evidently di erent in its cause, and in its own nature, rom actual and positive pleasure. /' ?o, Pain 7an Be A Source Of +elight *R@?ICE-CE has so ordered it, that a state o rest and inaction, however it may latter our indolence, should %e productive o many inconveniences& that it should #enerate such disorders, as may orce us to have recourse to some la%our, as a thin# a%solutely re)uisite to ma!e us pass our lives with tolera%le satis action& or the nature o rest is to su er all the parts o our %odies to all into a rela(ation, that not only disa%les the mem%ers rom per ormin# their unctions, %ut ta!es away the vi#orous tone o i%re which is re)uisite or carryin# on the natural and necessary secretions. 6t the same time, that in this lan#uid inactive state, the nerves are more lia%le to the most horrid convulsions, that when they are su iciently %raced and stren#thened. +elancholy, de'ection, despair, and o ten sel Amurder, is the conse)uence o the #loomy view we ta!e o thin#s in this rela(ed state o %ody. The %est remedy or all these evils is e(ercise or labour; and la%our is a surmountin# o difficulties, an e(ertion o the contractin# power o the muscles& and as such resem%les pain, which consists in tension or contraction, in everythin# %ut de#ree. <a%our is not only re)uisite to preserve the coarser or#ans in a state it or their unctions& %ut it is e)ually necessary to those iner and more delicate or#ans, on which, and %y which, the ima#ination, and perhaps the other mental powers, act. Since it is pro%a%le, that not only the in erior parts o the soul, as the passions are called, %ut the understandin# itsel , ma!es use o some ine corporeal instruments in its operation& thou#h what they are, and where they are, may %e somewhat hard to settle& %ut that it does ma!e use o such, appears rom hence& that a lon# e(ercise o the mental powers induces a remar!a%le lassitude o the whole %ody& and, on the other hand, that #reat %odily la%our, or pain, wea!ens, and sometimes actually destroys, the mental aculties. -ow, as a due e(ercise is essential to the coarse muscular parts o the constitution, and that without this rousin# they would %ecome lan#uid and diseased, the very same rule holds with re#ard to those iner parts we have mentioned& to have them in proper order, they must %e sha!en and wor!ed to a proper de#ree. !' E8ercise (ecessary 6or The 6iner Organs 6S common la%our, which is a mode o pain, is the e(ercise o the #rosser, a mode o terror is the e(ercise o the iner parts o the system& and i a certain mode o pain %e o such a nature as to act upon the eye or the ear, as they are the most delicate or#ans, the a ection approaches more nearly to that which has a mental cause. In all these cases, i the pain and terror are so modi ied as not to %e actually no(ious& i the pain is not carried to violence, and the terror is not conversant a%out the present destruction o the person, as these emotions clear the parts, whether ine or #ross, o a dan#erous and trou%lesome encum%rance, they are capa%le o producin# deli#ht& not pleasure, %ut a sort o deli#ht ul horror, a sort o tran)uillity tin#ed with terror& which, as it %elon#s to sel Apreservation, is one o the stron#est o all the passions. Its o%'ect is the su%lime 2.. Its hi#hest de#ree I call astonishment; the su%ordinate de#rees are awe, reverence, and respect, which, %y the very etymolo#y o the words show rom what source they are derived, and how they stand distin#uished rom positive pleasure. 4' 2hy Things (ot +angerous Produce A Passion >ike Terror 6 +@CE23 o terror or pain is always the cause o the su%lime. For terror, or associated dan#er, the ore#oin# e(plication is, I %elieve, su icient. It will re)uire somethin# more trou%le to show, that such e(amples as I have #iven o the su%lime in the second part are capa%le o producin# a mode o pain, and o %ein# thus allied to terror, and to %e accounted or on the same principles. 6nd irst o such o%'ects as are #reat in their dimensions. I spea! o visual o%'ects. $' 2hy ;isual Ob:ects Of 1reat +imensions Are Sublime ?ISI@- is per ormed %y havin# a picture, ormed %y the rays o li#ht which are re lected rom the o%'ect, painted in one piece, instantaneously, on the retina, or last nervous part o the eye. @r, accordin# to others, there is %ut one point o any o%'ect painted on the eye in such a manner as to %e perceived at once& %ut %y movin# the eye,
2. 23

(ote ' *art II. sect 2. (ote ' *art I. sect. D. *art II. sect 2. .4

we #ather up, with #reat celerity, the several parts o the o%'ect, so as to orm one uni orm piece. I the ormer opinion %e allowed, it will %e considered 2B, that thou#h all the li#ht re lected rom a lar#e %ody should stri!e the eye in one instant& yet we must suppose that the %ody itsel is ormed o a vast num%er o distinct points, every one o which, or the ray rom every one, ma!es an impression on the retina. So that, thou#h the ima#e o one point should cause %ut a small tension o this mem%rane, another and another, and another stro!e, must in their pro#ress cause a very #reat one, until it arrives at last to the hi#hest de#ree& and the whole capacity o the eye, vi%ratin# in all its parts, must approach near to the nature o what causes pain, and conse)uently must produce an idea o the su%lime. 6#ain, i we ta!e it, that one point only o an o%'ect is distin#uisha%le at once, the matter will amount nearly to the same thin#, or rather it will ma!e the ori#in o the su%lime rom #reatness o dimension yet clearer. For i %ut one point is o%served at once, the eye must traverse the vast space o such %odies with #reat )uic!ness, and conse)uently the ine nerves and muscles destined to the motion o that part must %e very much strained& and their #reat sensi%ility must ma!e them hi#hly a ected %y this strainin#. Besides, it si#ni ies 'ust nothin# to the e ect produced, whether a %ody has its parts connected and ma!es its impression at once& or, ma!in# %ut one impression o a point at a time, causes a succession o the same or others so )uic!ly as to ma!e them seem united& as is evident rom the common e ect o whirlin# a%out a li#hted torch or piece o wood$ which, i done with celerity, seems a circle o ire. 5' <nity- 2hy requisite To ;astness IT may %e o%'ected to this theory, that the eye #enerally receives an e)ual num%er o rays at all times, and that there ore a #reat o%'ect cannot a ect it %y the num%er o rays, more than that variety o o%'ects which the eye must always discern whilst it remains open. But to this I answer, that admittin# an e)ual num%er o rays, or an e)ual )uantity o luminous particles, to stri!e the eye at all times, yet i these rays re)uently vary their nature, now to %lue, now to red, and so on, or their manner o termination, as to a num%er o petty s)uares, trian#les, or the li!e, at every chan#e, whether o colour or shape, the or#an has a sort o rela(ation or rest& %ut this rela(ation and la%our so o ten interrupted, is %y no means productive o ease& neither has it the e ect o vi#orous and uni orm la%our. "hoever has remar!ed the di erent e ects o some stron# e(ercise, and some little piddlin# action, will understand why a teasin#, ret ul employment, which at once wearies and wea!ens the %ody, should have nothin# #reat& these sorts o impulses, which are rather teasin# than pain ul, %y continually and suddenly alterin# their tenor and direction, prevent that ull tension, that species o uni orm la%our, which is allied to stron# pain, and causes the su%lime. The sum total o thin#s o various !inds, thou#h it should e)ual the num%er o the uni orm parts composin# some one entire o%'ect, is not e)ual in its e ect upon the or#ans o our %odies. Besides the one already assi#ned, there is another very stron# reason or the di erence. The mind in reality hardly ever can attend dili#ently to more than one thin# at a time& i this thin# %e little, the e ect is little, and a num%er o other little o%'ects cannot en#a#e the attention& the mind is %ounded %y the %ounds o the o%'ect& and what is not attended to, and what does not e(ist, are much the same in e ect& %ut the eye, or the mind, : or in this case there is no di erence,; in #reat, uni orm o%'ects, does not readily arrive at their %ounds& it has no rest whilst it contemplates them& the ima#e is much the same everywhere. So that everythin# #reat %y its )uantity must necessarily %e one, simple and entire. ' The Artificial Infinite "E have o%served, that a species o #reatness arises rom the arti icial in inite& and that this in inite consists in an uni orm succession o #reat parts$ we o%served, too, that the same uni orm succession had a li!e power in sounds. But %ecause the e ects o many thin#s are clearer in one o the senses than in another, and that all the senses %ear analo#y to and illustrate one another, I shall %e#in with this power in sounds, as the cause o the su%limity rom succession is rather more o%vious in the sense o hearin#. 6nd I shall here, once or all, o%serve, that an investi#ation o the natural and mechanical causes o our passions, %esides the curiosity o the su%'ect, #ives, i they are discovered, a dou%le stren#th and lustre to any rules we deliver on such matters. "hen the ear receives any simple sound, it is struc! %y a sin#le pulse o the air, which ma!es the eardrum and the other mem%ranous parts vi%rate accordin# to the nature and species o the stro!e. I the stro!e %e stron#, the or#an o hearin# su ers a considera%le de#ree o tension. I the stro!e %e repeated pretty soon a ter, the repetition causes an e(pectation o another stro!e. 6nd it must %e o%served, that e(pectation itsel causes a tension. This is apparent in many animals, who, when they prepare or hearin# any sound, rouse themselves, and pric! up their ears$ so that here the e ect o
2B

(ote ' *art II. sect. D. .F

the sounds is considera%ly au#mented %y a new au(iliary, the e(pectation. But thou#h, a ter a num%er o stro!es, we e(pect still more, not %ein# a%le to ascertain the e(act time o their arrival, when the arrive, they produce a sort o surprise, which increases this tension yet urther. For I have o%served, that when at any time I have waited very earnestly or some sound, that returned at intervals, :as the successive irin# o cannon,; thou#h I ully e(pected the return o the sound, when it came it always made me start a little& the earAdrum su ered a convulsion, and the whole %ody consented with it. The tension o the part thus increasin# at every %low, %y the united orces o the stro!e itsel , the e(pectation, and the surprise, it is wor!ed up to such a pitch as to %e capa%le o the su%lime& it is %rou#ht 'ust to the ver#e o pain. Even when the cause has ceased, the or#ans o hearin# %ein# o ten successively struc! in a similar manner, continue to vi%rate in that manner or some time lon#er& this is an additional help to the #reatness o the e ect. "' The ;ibrations =ust Be Similar B=T i the vi%ration %e not similar at every impression, it can never %e carried %eyond the num%er o actual impressions& or move any %ody, as a pendulum, in one way, and it will continue to oscillate in an arch o the same circle, until the !nown causes ma!e it rest& %ut i a ter irst puttin# it in motion in one direction, you push it into another, it can never reassume the irst direction& %ecause it can never more itsel , and conse)uently it can have %ut the e ect o that last motion& whereas, i in the same direction you act upon it several times, it will descri%e a #reater arch, and move a lon#er time. *' The Effects Of Succession In ;isual Ob:ects E8plained IF we can comprehend clearly how thin#s operate upon one o our senses, there can %e very little di iculty in conceivin# in what manner they a ect the rest. To say a #reat deal there ore upon the correspondin# a ections o every sense, would tend rather to ati#ue us %y an useless repetition, than to throw any new li#ht upon the su%'ect %y that ample and di use manner o treatin# it& %ut as in this discourse we chie ly attach ourselves to the su%lime, as it a ects the eye, we shall consider particularly why a successive disposition o uni orm parts in the same ri#ht line should %e su%lime2>, and upon what principle this disposition is ena%led to ma!e a comparatively small )uantity o matter produce a #rander e ect, than a much lar#er )uantity disposed in another manner. To avoid the perple(ity o #eneral notions& let us set %e ore our eyes a colonnade o uni orm pillars planted in a ri#ht line& let us ta!e our stand in such a manner, that the eye may shoot alon# this colonnade, or it has its %est e ect in this view. In our present situation it is plain, that the rays rom the irst round pillar will cause in the eye a vi%ration o that species& an ima#e o the pillar itsel . The pillar immediately succeedin# increases it& that which ollows renews and en orces the impression& each in its order as it succeeds, repeats impulse a ter impulse, and stro!e a ter stro!e, until the eye, lon# e(ercised in one particular way, cannot lose that o%'ect immediately& and, %ein# violently roused %y this continued a#itation, it presents the mind with a #rand or su%lime conception. But instead o viewin# a ran! o uni orm pillars, let us suppose that they succeed each other, a round and a s)uare one alternately. In this case the vi%ration caused %y the irst round pillar perishes as soon as it is ormed$ and one o )uite another sort :the s)uare; directly occupies its place& which, however, it resi#ns as )uic!ly to the round one& and thus the eye proceeds, alternately& ta!in# up one ima#e, and layin# down another, as lon# as the %uildin# continues. From whence it is o%vious, that, at the last pillar, the impression is as ar rom continuin# as it was at the very irst& %ecause, in act, the sensory can receive no distinct impression %ut rom the last& and it can never o itsel resume a dissimilar impression$ %esides, every variation o the o%'ect is a rest and rela(ation to the or#ans o si#ht& and these relie s prevent that power ul emotion so necessary to produce the su%lime. To produce there ore a per ect #randeur in such thin#s as we have %een mentionin#, there should %e a per ect simplicity, an a%solute uni ormity in disposition, shape, and colourin#. =pon this principle o succession and uni ormity it may %e as!ed, why a lon# %are wall should not %e a more su%lime o%'ect than a colonnade& since the succession is no way interrupted& since the eye meets no chec!& since nothin# more uni orm can %e conceived, 6 lon# %are wall is certainly not so #rand an o%'ect as a colonnade o the same len#th and hei#ht. It is not alto#ether di icult to account or this di erence. "hen we loo! at a na!ed wall, rom the evenness o the o%'ect, the eye runs alon# its whole space, and arrives )uic!ly at its termination& the eye meets nothin# which may interrupt its pro#ress& %ut then it meets nothin# which may detain it a proper time to produce a very #reat and lastin# e ect. The view o the %are wall, i it %e o a #reat hei#ht and len#th, is undou%tedly #rand& %ut this is only one idea, and not a repetition o similar ideas$ it is there ore #reat, not so much upon the principle o
2>

(ote ' *art II. sect. /5. 35

infinity, as upon that o vastness. But we are not so power ully a ected with any one impulse, unless it %e one o a prodi#ious orce indeed, as we are with a succession o similar impulses& %ecause the nerves o the sensory do not :i I may use the e(pression; ac)uire a ha%it o repeatin# the same eelin# in such a manner as to continue it lon#er than its cause is in action& %esides, all the e ects which I have attri%uted to e(pectation and surprise in sect. II, can have no place in a %are wall. .' >ockeAs Opinion 7oncerning +arkness 7onsidered IT is +r. <oc!eGs opinion, that dar!ness is not naturally an idea o terror& and that, thou#h an e(cessive li#ht is pain ul to the sense, the #reatest e(cess o dar!ness is no ways trou%lesome. He o%serves indeed in another place, that a nurse or an old woman havin# once associated the idea o #hosts and #o%lins with that o dar!ness, ni#ht, ever a ter, %ecomes pain ul and horri%le to the ima#ination. The authority o this #reat man is dou%tless as #reat as that o any man can %e, and it seems to stand in the way o our #eneral principl 2De. "e have considered dar!ness as a cause o the su%lime& and we have all alon# considered the su%lime as dependin# on some modi ication o pain or terror$ so that i dar!ness %e no way pain ul or terri%le to any, who have not had their minds early tainted with superstitions, it can %e no source o the su%lime to them. But, with all de erence to such an authority, it seems to me, that an association o a more #eneral nature, an association which ta!es in all man!ind, and ma!e dar!ness terri%le& or in utter dar!ness it is impossi%le to !now in what de#ree o sa ety we stand& we are i#norant o the o%'ects that surround us& we may every moment stri!e a#ainst some dan#erous o%struction& we may all down a precipice the irst step we ta!e& and i an enemy approach, we !now not in what )uarter to de end ourselves& in such a case stren#th is no sure protection& wisdom can only act %y #uess& the %oldest are sta##ered, and he, who would pray or nothin# else towards his de ence, is orced to pray or li#ht. 6s to the association o #hosts and #o%lins& surely it is more natural to thin!, that dar!ness, %ein# ori#inally an idea o terror, was chosen as a it scene or such terri%le representations, than that such representations have made dar!ness terri%le. The mind o man very easily slides into an error o the ormer sort& %ut it is very hard to ima#ine, that the e ect o an idea so universally terri%le in all times, and in all countries, as dar!ness, could possi%ly have %een owin# to a set o idle stories, or to any cause o a nature so trivial, and o an operation so precarious. 9' +arkness Terrible In Its O,n (ature *ERH6*S it may appear on in)uiry that %lac!ness and dar!ness are in some de#ree pain ul %y their natural operation, independent o any associations whatsoever. I must o%serve, that the ideas o dar!ness and %lac!ness are much the same& and they di er only in this, that %lac!ness is a more con ined idea. +r. Cheselden has #iven us a very curious story o a %oy, who had %een %orn %lind, and continued so until he was thirteen or ourteen years old& he was then couched or a cataract, %y which operation he received his si#ht. 6mon# many remar!a%le particulars that attended his irst perceptions and 'ud#ments on visual o%'ects, it #ave him #reat uneasiness& and that some time a ter, upon accidentally seein# a ne#ro woman, he was struc! with #reat horror at the si#ht. The horror, in this case, can scarcely %e supposed to arise rom any association. The %oy appears %y the account to have %een particularly o%servin# and sensi%le or one o his a#e& and there ore it is pro%a%le, i the #reat uneasiness he elt at the irst si#ht o %lac! had arisen rom its conne(ion with any other disa#reea%le ideas, he would have o%served and mentioned it. For an idea, disa#reea%le only %y association, has the cause o its ill e ect on the passions evident enou#h at the irst impression& in ordinary cases, it is indeed re)uently lost& %ut this is, %ecause the ori#inal association was made very early, and the conse)uent impression repeated o ten. In our instance, there was no time or such a ha%it& and there is no reason to thin! that the ill e ects o %lac! on his ima#ination were more owin# to its conne(ion with any disa#reea%le ideas, than that the #ood e ects o more cheer ul colours were derived rom their conne(ion with pleasurin# ones. They had %oth pro%a%ly their e ects rom their natural operation. /' 2hy +arkness Is Terrible IT may %e worth while to e(amine how dar!ness can operate in such a manner as to cause pain. It is o%serva%le, that still as we recede rom the li#ht, nature has so contrived it, that the pupil is enlar#ed %y the retirin# o the iris, in proportion to our recess. -ow, instead o declinin# rom it %ut a little, suppose that we withdraw entirely rom the li#ht& it is reasona%le to thin!, that the contraction o the radial i%res o the iris is proportiona%ly
2D

(ote ' *art II. sect. .. 3/

#reater& and that this part may %y #reat dar!ness come to %e so contracted as to strain the nerves that compose it %eyond their natural tone& and %y this means to produce a pain ul sensation. Such a tension it seems there certainly is, whilst we are involved in dar!ness& or in such a state, whilst the eye remains open, there is a continual nisus to receive li#ht& this is mani est rom the lashes and luminous appearances which o ten seem in these circumstances to play %e ore it& and which can %e nothin# %ut the e ect o spasms, produced %y its own e orts in pursuit o its o%'ect$ several other stron# impulses will produce the idea o li#ht in the eye, %esides the su%stance o li#ht itsel , as we e(perience on many occasions. Some, who allow dar!ness to %e a cause o the su%lime, would in er, rom the dilatation o the pupil, that a rela(ation may %e productive o the su%lime, as well as a convulsion$ %ut they do not, I %elieve, consider that althou#h the circular rin# o the iris %e in some sense a sphincter, which may possi%ly %e dilated %y a simple rela(ation, yet in one respect it di ers rom most o the other sphincters o the %ody, that it is urnished with anta#onist muscles, which are the radial i%res o the iris$ no sooner does the circular muscle %e#in to rela(, than these i%res, wantin# their counterpoise, are orci%ly drawn %ac!, and open the pupil to a considera%le wideness. But thou#h we were not appri8ed o this, I %elieve any one will ind, i he opens his eyes and ma!es an e ort to see in a dar! place, that a very perceiva%le pain ensues. 6nd I have heard some ladies remar!, that a ter havin# wor!ed a lon# time upon a #round o %lac!, their eyes were so pained and wea!ened, they could hardly see. It may perhaps %e o%'ected to this theory o the mechanical e ect o dar!ness, that the ill e ects o dar!ness or %lac!ness seem rather mental than corporeal$ and I own it is true, that they do so& and so do all those that depend on the a ections o the iner parts o our system. The ill e ects o %ad weather appear o ten no otherwise, than in a melancholy and de'ection o spirits& thou#h without dou%t, in this case, the %odily or#ans su er irst, and the mind throu#h these or#ans. !' The Effects Of Blackness B<6CJ-ESS is %ut a partial darkness; and there ore, it derives some o its powers rom %ein# mi(ed and surrounded with coloured %odies. In its own nature, it cannot %e considered as a colour. Blac! %odies, re lectin# none or %ut a ew rays, with re#ard to si#ht, are %ut as so many vacant spaces dispersed amon# the o%'ects we view. "hen the eye li#hts on one o these vacuities, a ter havin# %een !ept in some de#ree o tension %y the play o the ad'acent colours upon it, it suddenly alls into a rela(ation& out o which it as suddenly recovers %y a convulsive sprin#. To illustrate this$ let us consider, that when we intend to sit on a chair, and ind it much lower than was e(pected, the shoc! is very violent& much more violent than could %e thou#ht rom so sli#ht a all as the di erence %etween one chair and another can possi%ly ma!e. I , a ter descendin# a li#ht o stairs, we attempt inadvertently to ta!e another step in the manner o the ormer ones, the shoc! is e(tremely rude and disa#reea%le& and %y no art can we cause such a shoc! %y the same means when we e(pect and prepare or it. "hen I say that this is owin# to havin# the chan#e made contrary to e(pectation, I do not mean solely, when the mind e(pects. I mean, li!ewise, that when any or#an o sense is or some time a ected in some one manner, i it %e suddenly a ected otherwise, there ensues a convulsive motion& such a convulsion as is caused when anythin# happens a#ainst the e(pectance o the mind. 6nd thou#h it may appear stran#e that such a chan#e as produces a rela(ation should immediately produce a sudden convulsion& it is yet most certainly so, and so in all the senses. Every one !nows that sleep is a rela(ation& and that silence, where nothin# !eeps the or#ans o hearin# in action, is in #eneral ittest to %rin# on this rela(ation& yet when a sort o murmurin# sounds dispose a man to sleep, let these sounds cease suddenly, and the person immediately awa!es& that is, the parts are %raced up suddenly, and he awa!es. This I have o ten e(perienced mysel , and I have heard the same rom o%servin# persons. In li!e manner, i a person in %road dayAli#ht were allin# asleep, to introduce a sudden dar!ness would prevent his sleep or that time, thou#h silence and dar!ness in themselves, and not suddenly introduced, are very avoura%le to it. This I !new only %y con'ecture on the analo#y o the senses when I irst di#ested these o%servations& %ut I have since e(perienced it. 6nd I have o ten e(perienced, and so have a thousand others, that on the irst inclinin# towards sleep, we have %een suddenly awa!ened with a most violent start& and that this start was #enerally preceded %y a sort o dream o our allin# down a precipice$ whence does this stran#e motion arise, %ut rom the too sudden rela(ation o the %ody, which %y some mechanism in nature restores itsel %y as )uic! and vi#orous an e(ertion o the contractin# power o the muscles, The dream itsel is caused %y this rela(ation& and it is o too uni orm a nature to %e attri%uted to any other cause. The parts rela( too suddenly, which is in the nature o allin#& and this accident o the %ody induces this ima#e in the mind. "hen we are in a con irmed state o health and vi#our, as all chan#es are then less sudden, and less on the e(treme, we can seldom complain o this disa#reea%le sensation. 4' the Effects Of Blackness =oderated 32

TH@=1H the e ects o %lac! %e pain ul ori#inally, we must not thin! they always continue so. Custom reconciles us to everythin#. 6 ter we have %een used to the si#ht o %lac! o%'ects, the terror a%ates, and the smoothness and #lossiness, or some a#reea%le accident, o %odies so coloured, so tens in some measure the horror and sternness o their ori#inal nature& yet the nature o their ori#inal impression still continues. Blac! will always have somethin# melancholy in it, %ecause the sensory will always ind the chan#e to it rom other colours too violent& or i it occupy the whole compass o the si#ht, it will then %e dar!ness& and what was said o dar!ness will %e applica%le here. I do not purpose to #o into all that mi#ht %e said to illustrate this theory o the e ects o li#ht and dar!ness, neither will I e(amine all the di erent e ects produced %y the various modi ications and mi(tures o these two causes. I the ore#oin# o%servations have any oundation in nature, I conceive them very su icient to account or all the phenomena that can arise rom all the com%inations o %lac! with other colours. To enter into every particular, or to answer every o%'ection, would %e an endless la%our. "e have only ollowed the most leadin# roads& and we shall o%serve the same conduct in our in)uiry into the cause o %eauty. $' the Physical 7ause Of >o)e "HE- we have %e ore us such o%'ects as e(cite love and complacency, the %ody is a ected, so ar as I could o%serve, much in the ollowin# manner$ the head reclines somethin# on one side& the eyelids are more closed than usual, and the eyes roll #ently with an inclination to the o%'ect& the mouth is a little opened, and the %reath drawn slowly, with now and then a low si#h& the whole %ody is composed, and the hands all idly to the sides. 6ll this is accompanied with an inward sense o meltin# and lan#uor. These appearances are always proportioned to the de#ree o %eauty in the o%'ect, and o sensi%ility in the o%server. 6nd this #radation rom the hi#hest pitch o %eauty and sensi%ility, even to the lowest o mediocrity and indi erence, and their correspondent e ects, ou#ht to %e !ept in view, else this description will seem e(a##erated, which it certainly is not. But rom this description it is almost impossi%le not to conclude, that %eauty acts %y rela(in# the solids o the whole system. There are all the appearances o such a rela(ation& and a rela(ation somewhat %elow the natural tone seems to me to %e the cause o all positive pleasure. "ho is a stran#er to that manner o e(pression so common in all times and in all countries, o %ein# so tened, rela(ed, enervated, dissolved, melted away %y pleasure, The universal voice o man!ind, aith ul to their eelin#s, concurs in a irmin# this uni orm and #eneral e ect$ and althou#h some odd and particular instance may perhaps %e ound, wherein there appears a considera%le de#ree o positive pleasure, without all the characters o rela(ation, we must not there ore re'ect the conclusion we had drawn rom a concurrence o many e(periments& %ut we must still retain it, su%'oinin# the e(ceptions which may occur, accordin# to the 'udicious rule laid down %y Sir Isaac -ewton in the third %oo! o his @ptics. @ur position will, I conceive, appear con irmed %eyond any reasona%le dou%t, i we can show that such thin#s as we have already o%served to %e the #enuine constituents o %eauty, have each o them, separately ta!en, a natural tendency to rela( the i%res. 6nd i it must %e allowed us, that the appearance o the human %ody, when all these constituents are united to#ether %e ore the sensory, urther avours this opinion, we may venture, I %elieve, to conclude, that the passion called love is produced %y this rela(ation. By the same method o reasonin# which we have used in the in)uiry into the causes o the su%lime, we may li!ewise conclude, that as a %eauti ul o%'ect presented to the sense, %y causin# a rela(ation o the %ody, produces the passion o love in the mind& so i %y any means the passion should irst have its ori#in in the mind, a rela(ation o the outward or#ans will as certainly ensue in a de#ree proportioned to the cause. "5' 2hy Smoothness Is Beautiful IT is to e(plain the true cause o visual %eauty, that I call in the assistance o the other senses. I it appears that smoothness is a principal cause o pleasure to the touch, taste, smell, and hearin#, it will %e easily admitted a constituent o visual %eauty& especially as we have %e ore shown, that this )uality is ound almost without e(ception in all %odies that are %y #eneral consent held %eauti ul. There can %e no dou%t that %odies which are rou#h and an#ular, rouse and vellicate the or#ans o eelin#, causin# a sense o pain, which consists in the violent tension or contraction o the muscular i%res. @n the contrary, the application o smooth %odies rela(es& #entle stro!in# with a smooth hand allays violent pains and cramps, and rela(es the su erin# parts rom their unnatural tension& and it has there ore very o ten no mean e ect in removin# swellin#s and o%structions. The sense o eelin# is hi#hly #rati ied with smooth %odies. 6 %ed smoothly laid, and so t, that is, where the resistance is every way inconsidera%le, is a #reat lu(ury, disposin# to an universal rela(ation, and inducin# %eyond anythin# else that species o it called sleep. 3.

" ' S,eetness- Its (ature -@R is it only in the touch that smooth %odies cause positive pleasure %y rela(ation. In the smell and taste, we ind all thin#s a#reea%le to them, and which are commonly called sweet, to %e o a smooth nature, and that they all evidently tend to rela( their respective sensories. <et us irst consider the taste. Since it is most easy to in)uire into the property o li)uids, and since all thin#s seem to want a luid vehicle to ma!e them tasted at all, I intend rather to consider the li)uid than the solid parts o our ood. The vehicles o all tastes are water and oil. 6nd what determines the taste is some salt, which a ects variously accordin# to its nature, or its manner o %ein# com%ined with other thin#s. "ater and oil, simply considered, are capa%le o #ivin# some pleasure to the taste. "ater, when simple, is insipid, inodorous, colourless, and smooth& it is ound, when not cold, to %e a #reat resolver o spasms, and lu%ricator o the i%res& this power it pro%a%ly owes to its smoothness. For as luidity depends, accordin# to the most #eneral opinion, on the roundness, smoothness, and wea! cohesion, o the component parts o any %ody& and as water acts merely as a simple luid& it ollows that the cause o its luidity is li!ewise the cause o its rela(in# )uality& namely, the smoothness and slippery te(ture o its parts. The other luid vehicle o taste is oil. This too, when simple, is insipid, inodorous, colourless, and smooth to the touch and taste. It is smoother than water, and in many cases yet more rela(in#. @il is in some de#ree pleasant to the eye, the touch, and the taste, insipid as it is. "ater is not so #rate ul& which I do not !now on what principle to account or, other than that water is not so so t and smooth. Suppose that to this oil or water were added a certain )uantity o a speci ic salt, which had a power o puttin# the nervous papillN o the ton#ue into a #entle vi%ratory motion& as suppose, su#ar dissolved in it. The smoothness o the oil, and the vi%ratory power o the salt, cause the sense we call sweetness. In all sweet %odies, su#ar, or a su%stance very little di erent rom su#ar, is constantly ound. Every species o salt, e(amined %y the microscope, has its own distinct, re#ular, invaria%le orm. That o nitre is a pointed o%lon#& that o seaAsalt an e(act cu%e& that o su#ar a per ect #lo%e. I you have tried how smooth #lo%ular %odies, as the mar%les with which %oys amuse themselves, have a ected the touch when they are rolled %ac!ward and orward and over one another, you will easily conceive how sweetness, which consists in a salt o such nature, a ects the taste& or a sin#le #lo%e, :thou#h somewhat pleasant to the eelin#,; yet %y the re#ularity o its orm, and the somewhat too sudden deviation o its parts rom a ri#ht line, is nothin# near so pleasant to the touch as several #lo%es, where the hand #ently rises to one and alls to another& and this pleasure is #reatly increased i the #lo%es are in motion, and slidin# over one another& or this so t variety prevents that weariness, which the uni orm disposition o the several #lo%es would otherwise produce. Thus in sweet li)uors, the parts o the luid vehicle, thou#h most pro%a%ly round, are yet so minute, as to conceal the i#ure o their component parts rom the nicest in)uisition o the microscope& and conse)uently, %ein# so e(cessively minute, they have a sort o lat simplicity to the taste, resem%lin# the e ects o plain smooth %odies to the touch& or i a %ody %e composed o round parts e(cessively small, and pac!ed pretty closely to#ether, the sur ace will %e %oth to the si#ht and touch as i it were nearly plain and smooth. It is clear rom their unveilin# their i#ure to the microscope, that the particles o su#ar are considera%ly lar#er than those o water or oil, and conse)uently, that their e ects rom their roundness will %e more distinct and palpa%le to the nervous papillN o that nice or#an the ton#ue$ they will induce that sense called sweetness, which in a wea! manner we discover in oil, and in a yet wea!er, in water& or, insipid as they are, water and oil are in some de#ree sweet& and it may %e o%served, that the insipid thin#s o all !inds approach more nearly to the nature o sweetness than to that o any other taste. ""' S,eetness- &ela8ing I- the other senses we have remar!ed, that smooth thin#s are rela(in#. -ow it ou#ht to appear that sweet thin#s, which are the smooth o taste, are rela(in# too. It is remar!a%le, that in some lan#ua#es, so t and sweet have %ut one name. Doux in French si#ni ies so t as well as sweet. The <atin Dulcis, and the Italian Dolce, have in many cases the same dou%le si#ni ication. That sweet thin#s are #enerally rela(in#, is evident& %ecause all such, especially those which are most oily, ta!en re)uently, or in a lar#e )uantity, very much en ee%le the tone o the stomach. Sweet smells, which %ear a #reat a inity to sweet tastes, rela( very remar!a%ly. The smell o lowers disposes people to drowsiness& and this rela(in# e ect is urther apparent rom the pre'udice which people o wea! nerves receive rom their use. It were worth while to e(amine, whether tastes o this !ind, sweet ones, tastes that are caused %y smooth oils and a rela(in# salt, are not the ori#inal pleasant tastes. For many, which use has rendered such, were not at all a#reea%le at irst. The way to e(amine this, is to try what nature has ori#inally provided or us, which she has undou%tedly made ori#inally pleasant& and to analy8e this provision. >ilk is the irst support o our childhood. The component parts o this are water, oil and a sort o a very sweet salt, called the su#ar o mil!. 6ll these when 33

%lended have a #reat smoothness to the taste, and a rela(in# )uality to the s!in. The ne(t thin# children covet is fruit, and o ruits those principally which are sweet& and every one !nows that the sweetness o ruit is caused %y a su%tle oil, and such salt as that mentioned in the last section. 6 terwards custom, ha%it, the desire o novelty, and a thousand other causes, con ound, adulterate, and chan#e our palates, so that we can no lon#er reason with any satis action a%out them. Be ore we )uit this article, we must o%serve, that as smooth thin#s are, as such, a#reea%le to the taste, and are ound o a rela(in# )uality& so, on the other hand, thin#s which are ound %y e(perience to %e o a stren#thenin# )uality, and it to %race the i%res, are almost universally rou#h and pun#ent to the taste, and in many cases rou#h even to the touch. "e o ten apply the )uality o sweetness, metaphorically, to visual o%'ects. For the %etter carryin# on this remar!a%le analo#y o the senses, we may here call sweetness the %eauti ul o the taste. "*' ;ariation- 2hy Beautiful 6-@THER principal property o %eauti ul o%'ects is, that the line o their parts is continually varyin# its direction& %ut it varies it %y a very insensi%le deviation& it never varies it so )uic!ly as to surprise, or %y the sharpness o its an#le to cause any twitchin# or convulsion o the optic nerve. -othin# lon# continued in the same manner, nothin# very suddenly varied, can %e %eauti ul& %ecause %oth are opposite to that a#reea%le rela(ation which is the characteristic e ect o %eauty. It is thus in all the senses. 6 motion in a ri#ht line is that manner o movin#, ne(t to a very #entle descent, in which we meet the least resistance& yet it is not that manner o movin# which, ne(t to a descent, wearies us the least. Rest certainly tends to rela(& yet there is a species o motion which rela(es more than rest& a #entle oscillatory motion, a risin# and allin#. Roc!in# sets children to sleep %etter than a%solute rest& there is indeed scarce anythin# at that a#e which #ives more pleasure than to %e #ently li ted up and down& the manner o playin# which their nurses use with children, and the wei#hin# and swin#in# used a terwards %y themselves as a avourite amusement, evince this very su iciently. +ost people must have o%served the sort o sense they have had on %ein# swi tly drawn in an easy coach on a smooth tur , with #radual ascents and declivities. This will #ive a %etter idea o the %eauti ul, and point out its pro%a%le course %etter, than almost anythin# else. @n the contrary, when one is hurried over a rou#h, roc!y, %ro!en road, the pain elt %y these sudden ine)ualities shows why similar si#hts, eelin#s, and sounds are so contrary to %eauty$ and with re#ard to the eelin#, it is e(actly the same in its e ect, or very nearly the same, whether, or instance, I move my hand alon# the sur ace o a %ody o a certain shape, or whether such a %ody is moved alon# my hand. But to %rin# this analo#y o the senses home to the eye$ i a %ody presented to that sense has such a wavin# sur ace, that the rays o li#ht re lected rom it are in a continual insensi%le deviation rom the stron#est to the wea!est :which is always the case in a sur ace #radually une)ual,; it must %e e(actly similar in its e ects on the eye and touch& upon the one o which it operates directly, on the other, indirectly. 6nd this %ody will %e %eauti ul, i the lines which compose its sur ace are not continued, even so varied, in a manner that may weary or dissipate the attention. The variation itsel must %e continually varied. ".' 7oncerning Smallness T@ avoid a sameness which may arise rom the too re)uent repetition o the same reasonin#s, and o illustrations o the same nature, I will not enter very minutely into every particular that re#ards %eauty, as it is ounded on the disposition o its )uantity, or its )uantity itsel . In spea!in# o the ma#nitude o %odies there is #reat uncertainty, %ecause the ideas o #reat and small are terms almost entirely relative to the species o the o%'ects, which are in inite. It is true, that havin# once i(ed the species o any o%'ect, and the dimensions common in the individuals o that species, we may o%serve some that e(ceed, and some that all short o , the ordinary standard$ those which #reatly e(ceed are, %y the e(cess, provided the species itsel %e not very small, rather #reat and terri%le than %eauti ul& %ut as in the animal world, and in a #ood measure in the ve#eta%le world li!ewise, the )ualities that constitute %eauty may possi%ly %e united to thin#s o #reater dimensions& when they are so united, they constitute a species somethin# di erent %oth rom the su%lime and %eauti ul, which I have %e ore called fine3 %ut this !ind, I ima#ine, has not such a power on the passions either as vast %odies have which are endued with the correspondent )ualities o the su%lime, or as the )ualities o %eauty have when united in a small o%'ect. The a ection produced %y lar#e %odies adorned with the spoils o %eauty, is a tension continually relieved& which approaches to the nature o mediocrity. But i I were to say how I ind mysel a ected upon such occasions, I should say, that the su%lime su ers less %y %ein# united to some o the )ualities o %eauty, than %eauty does %y %ein# 'oined to #reatness o )uantity, or any other properties o the su%lime. There is somethin# so overArulin# in whatever inspires us with awe, in all thin#s which %elon#s ever so remotely to terror, that nothin# else can stand in their presence. There lie the )ualities o %eauty either dead or unoperative& or at most e(erted to molli y the ri#our and sternness o the terror, 3B

which is the natural concomitant o #reatness. Besides the e(traordinary #reat in every species, the opposite to this, the dwar ish and diminutive, ou#ht to %e considered. <ittleness, merely as such, has nothin# contrary to the idea o %eauty. The hummin#A%ird, %oth in shape and colourin#, yields to none o the win#ed species, o which it is the least& and perhaps his %eauty is enhanced %y his smallness. But there are animals, which, when they are e(tremely small, are rarely :i ever; %eauti ul. There is a dwar ish si8e o men and women, which is almost constantly so #ross and massive in comparison o their hei#ht, that they present us with a very disa#reea%le ima#e. But should a man %e ound not a%ove two or three eet hi#h, supposin# such a person to have all the parts o his %ody o a delicacy suita%le to such a si8e, and otherwise endued with the common )ualities o other %eauti ul %odies, I am pretty well convinced that a person o such a stature mi#ht %e considered as %eauti ul& mi#ht %e the o%'ect o love& mi#ht #ive us very pleasin# ideas on viewin# him. The only thin# which could possi%ly interpose to chec! our pleasure is, that such creatures, however ormed, are unusual, and are o ten there ore considered as somethin# monstrous. The lar#e and #i#antic, thou#h very compati%le with the su%lime, is contrary to the %eauti ul. It is impossi%le to suppose a #iant the o%'ect o love. "hen we let our ima#ination loose in romance, the ideas we naturally anne( to that si8e are those o tyranny, cruelty, in'ustice, and everythin# horrid and a%omina%le. "e paint the #iant rava#in# the country, plunderin# the innocent traveller, and a terwards #or#ed with his hal Alivin# lesh$ such are *olyphemus, Cacus, and others, who ma!e so #reat a i#ure in romances and heroic poems. The event we attend to with the #reatest satis action is their de eat and death. I do not remem%er, in all that multitude o deaths with which the Iliad is illed, that the all o any man, remar!a%le or his #reat stature and stren#th, 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 so t %loom o youth, torn rom his parents, who trem%le or a coura#e so ill suited to his stren#th& it is another hurried %y war rom the new em%races o his %ride, youn#, and air, and a novice to the ield, who melts us %y his untimely ate. 6chilles, in spite o the many )ualities o %eauty which Homer has %estowed on his outward orm, and the many #reat virtues with which he has adorned his mind, can never ma!e us love him. It may %e o%served, that Homer has #iven the Tro'ans, whose ate he has desi#ned to e(cite our compassion, in initely more o the amia%le, social virtues than he has distri%uted amon# his 1ree!s. "ith re#ard to the Tro'ans, the passion he chooses to raise is pity& pity is a passion ounded on love& and these lesser, and i I may say domestic virtues, are certainly the most amia%le. But he has made the 1ree!s ar their superiors in the politic and military virtues. The councils o *riam are wea!& the arms o Hector comparatively ee%le& his coura#e ar %elow that o 6chilles. Ket we love *riam more than 6#amemnon, and Hector more than his con)ueror 6chilles. 6dmiration is the passion which Homer would e(cite in avour o the 1ree!s, and he has done it %y %estowin# on them the virtues which have little to do with love. This short di#ression is perhaps not wholly %eside our purpose, where our %usiness is to show, that o%'ects o #reat dimensions are incompati%le with %eauty, the more incompati%le as they are #reater& whereas the small, i ever they ail o %eauty, this ailure is not to %e attri%uted to their si8e. "9' Of 7olour "ITH re#ard to colour, the dis)uisition is almost in inite$ %ut I conceive the principles laid down in the %e#innin# o this part are su icient to account or the e ects o them all, as well as or the a#reea%le e ects o transparent %odies, whether luid or solid. Suppose I loo! at a %ottle o muddy li)uor, o a %lue or red colour& the %lue or red rays cannot pass clearly to the eye, %ut are suddenly and une)ually stopped %y the intervention o little opa)ue %odies, which without preparation chan#e the idea, and chan#e it too into one dis#reea%le in its own nature, con orma%ly to the principles laid down in sect. 23. But when the ray passes without such opposition throu#h the #lass or li)uor, when the #lass or li)uor is )uite transparent, the li#ht is sometimes so tened in the passa#e, which ma!es it more a#reea%le even as li#ht& and the li)uor re lectin# all the rays o its proper colour evenly, it has such an e ect on the eye, as smooth opa)ue %odies have on the eye and touch. So that the pleasure here is compounded o the so tness o the transmitted, and the evenness o the re lected li#ht. This pleasure may %e hei#htened %y the common principles in other thin#s, i the shape o the #lass which holds the transparent li)uor %e so 'udiciously varied, as to present the colour #radually and interchan#ea%ly, wea!ened and stren#thened with all the variety which 'ud#ment in a airs o this nature shall su# #est. @n a review o all that has %een said o the e ects as well as the causes o %oth, it will appear, that the su%lime and %eauti ul are %uilt on principles very di erent, and that their a ections are as di erent$ the #reat has terror or its %asis& which, when it is modi ied, causes that emotion in the mind which I have called astonishment& the %eauti ul is ounded on mere positive pleasure, and e(cites in the soul that eelin# which is called love. Their causes have made the su%'ect o this ourth part. 3>

PA&T ;
' Of 2ords -6T=R6< o%'ects a ect us, %y the laws o that conne(ion which *rovidence has esta%lished %etween certain motions and con i#urations o %odies, and certain conse)uent eelin#s in our mind. *aintin# a ects us in the same manner, %ut with the superadded pleasure o imitation. 6rchitecture a ects %y the laws o nature, and the law o reason$ rom which latter result the rules o proportion, which ma!e a wor! to %e praised or censured, in the whole or in some part, when the end or which it was desi#ned is or is not properly answered. But as to words& they seem to me to a ect us in a manner very di erent rom that in which we are a ected %y natural o%'ects, or %y paintin# or architecture& yet words have as considera%le a share in e(citin# ideas o %eauty and o the su%lime as many o those, and sometimes a much #reater than any o them$ there ore an in)uiry into the manner %y which they e(cite such emotions is ar rom %ein# unnecessary in a discourse o this !ind. "' The 7ommon Effects Of Poetry- (ot by &aising Ideas Of Things THE C@++@- notion o the power o poetry and elo)uence, as well as that o words in ordinary conversation, is that they a ect the mind %y raisin# in it ideas o those thin#s or which custom has appointed them to stand. To e(amine the truth o this notion, it may %e re)uisite to o%serve, that words may %e divided into three sorts. The irst are such as represent many simple ideas united by nature to orm some one determinate composition, as man, horse, tree, castle, Qc. These I call aggregate words. The second are they that stand or one simple idea o such compositions, and no more& as red, %lue, round, s)uare, and the li!e. These I call simple abstract words. The third are those which are ormed %y an union, an arbitrary union, o %oth the others, and o the various relations %etween them in #reater or less de#rees o comple(ity& as virtue, honour, persuasion, ma#istrate, and the li!e. These I call compound abstract words. "ords, I am sensi%le, are capa%le o %ein# classed into more curious distinctions& %ut these seem to %e natural, and enou#h or our purpose& and they are disposed in that order in which they are commonly tau#ht, and in which the mind #ets the ideas they are su%stituted or. I shall %e#in with the third sort o words& compound a%stracts, such as virtue, honour, persuasion, docility. @ these I am convinced, that whatever power they may have on the passions, they do not derive it rom any representation raised in the mind o the thin#s or which they stand. 6s compositions, they are not real essences, and hardly cause, I thin!, any real ideas. -o%ody, I %elieve, immediately on hearin# the sounds, virtue, li%erty, or honour, conceives any precise notions o the particular modes o action and thin!in# to#ether with the mi(t and simple ideas and the several relations o them or which these words are su%stituted& neither has he any #eneral idea, compounded o them& or i he had, then some o those particular ones, thou#h indistinct perhaps, and con used, mi#ht come soon to %e perceived. But this, I ta!e it, is hardly ever the case. For, put yoursel upon analy8in# one o these words, and you must reduce it rom one set o #eneral words to another, and then into the simple a%stracts and a##re#ates, in a much lon#er series than may %e at irst ima#ined, %e ore any real idea emer#es to li#ht, %e ore you come to discover anythin# li!e the irst principles o such compositions& and when you have made such a discovery o the ori#inal ideas, the e ect o the composition is utterly lost. 6 train o thin!in# o this sort is much too lon# to %e pursued in the ordinary ways o conversation& nor is it at all necessary that it should. Such words are in reality %ut mere sounds& %ut they are sounds which %ein# used on particular occasions, wherein we receive some #ood, or su er some evil, or see others a ected with #ood or evil& or which we hear applied to other interestin# thin#s or events& and %ein# applied in such a variety o cases, that we !now readily %y ha%it to what thin#s they %elon#, they produce in the mind, whenever they are a terwards mentioned, e ects similar to those o their occasions. The sounds %ein# o ten used without re erence to any particular occasion, and carryin# still their irst impressions, they at last utterly lose their conne(ion with the particular occasions that #ave rise to them& yet the sound, without any anne(ed notion, continues to operate as %e ore. *' 1eneral 2ords Before Ideas +R. <@CJE has somewhere o%served, with his usual sa#acity, that most #eneral words, those %elon#in# to virtue and vice, #ood and evil, especially, are tau#ht %e ore the particular modes o action to which they %elon# are presented to the mind& and with them, the love o the one, and the a%horrence o the other& or the minds o children are so ductile, that a nurse, or any person a%out a child, %y seemin# pleased or displeased with anythin#, or even any 3D

word, may #ive the disposition o the child a similar turn. "hen, a terwards the several occurrences in li e come to %e applied to these words, and that which is pleasant o ten appears under the name o evil& and what is disa#reea%le to nature is called #ood and virtuous& a stran#e con usion o ideas and a ections arises in the minds o many& and an appearance o no small contradiction %etween their notions and their actions. There are many who love virtue and who detest vice, and this not rom hypocrisy or a ection, who notwithstandin# very re)uently act ill and wic!edly in particulars without the least remorse& %ecause these particular occasions never come into view, when the passions on the side o virtue were so warmly a ected %y certain words heated ori#inally %y the %reath o others& and or this reason, it is hard to repeat certain sets o words, thou#h owned %y themselves unoperative, without %ein# in some de#ree a ected& especially i a warm and a ectin# tone o voice accompanies them, as suppose, ,ise, valiant, generous, good, and great. These words, %y havin# no application, ou#ht to %e unoperative& %ut when words commonly sacred to #reat occasions are used, we are a ected %y them even without the occasions. "hen words which have %een #enerally so applied are put to#ether without any rational view, or in such a manner that they do not ri#htly a#ree with each other, the style is called %om%ast. 6nd it re)uires in several cases much #ood sense and e(perience to %e #uarded a#ainst the orce o such lan#ua#e& or when propriety is ne#lected, a #reater num%er o these a ectin# words may %e ta!en into the service and a #reater variety may %e indul#ed in com%inin# them. .' The Effects Of 2ords IF words have all their possi%le e(tent o power, three e ects arise in the mind o the hearer. The irst is, the sound; the second, the picture, or representation o the thin# si#ni ied %y the sound& the third is, the affection o the soul produced %y one or %y %oth o the ore#oin#. 7ompounded abstract words, o which we have %een spea!in#, :honour, 'ustice, li%erty, and the li!e,; produce the irst and the last o these e ects, %ut not the second. -imple abstracts are used to si#ni y some one simple idea, without much advertin# to others which may chance to attend it, as %lue, #reen, hot, cold, and the li!e& these are capa%le o a ectin# all three o the purposes o words& as the aggregate words, man, castle, horse, Qc., are in a yet hi#her de#ree. But I am o opinion, that the most #eneral e ect, even o these words, does not arise rom their ormin# pictures o the several thin#s they would represent in the ima#ination& %ecause, on a very dili#ent e(amination o my own mind, and #ettin# others to consider theirs, I do not ind that once in twenty times any such picture is ormed, and when it is, there is most commonly a particular e ort o the ima#ination or that purpose. But the a##re#ate words operate, as I said o the compoundAa%stracts, not %y presentin# any ima#e to the mind, %ut %y havin# rom use the same e ect on %ein# mentioned, that their ori#inal has when it is seen. Suppose we were to read a passa#e to this e ect$ LThe river Canu%e rises in a moist and mountainous soil in the heart o 1ermany, where windin# to and ro, it waters several principalities, until, turnin# into 6ustria, and leavin# the walls o ?ienna, it passes into Hun#ary& there with a vast lood, au#mented %y the Saave and the Crave, it )uits Christendom, and rollin# throu#h the %ar%arous countries which %order on Tartary, it enters %y many mouths in the Blac! Sea.M In this description many thin#s are mentioned, as mountains, rivers, cities, the sea, Qc. But let any%ody e(amine himsel , and see whether he has had impressed on his ima#ination any pictures o a river, mountain, watery soil, 1ermany, Qc. Indeed it is impossi%le, in the rapidity and )uic! succession o words in conversation to have ideas %oth o the sound o the word, and o the thin# represented$ %esides, some words, e(pressin# real essences, are so mi(ed with others o a #eneral and nominal import, that it is impractica%le to 'ump rom sense to thou#ht, rom particulars to #enerals, rom thin#s to words, in such a manner as to answer the purposes o li e& nor is it necessary that we should. 9' E8amples That 2ords =ay Affects 2ithout &aising Images I FI-C it very hard to persuade several that their passions are a ected %y words rom whence they have no ideas& and yet harder to convince them, that in the ordinary course o conversation we are su iciently understood without raisin# any ima#es o the thin#s concernin# which we spea!. It seems to %e an odd su%'ect o dispute with any man, whether he has ideas in his mind or not. @ this, at irst view, every man, in his own orum, ou#ht to 'ud#e without appeal. But, stran#e as it may appear, we are o ten at a loss to !now what ideas we have o thin#s, or whether we have any ideas at all upon some su%'ects. It even re)uires a #ood deal o attention to %e thorou#hly satis ied on this head. Since I wrote these papers, I ound two very stri!in# instances o the possi%ility there is that a man may hear words without havin# any idea o the thin#s which they represent, and yet a terwards %e capa%le o 34

returnin# them to others, com%ined in a new way, and with #reat propriety, ener#y and instruction. The irst instance is that o +r. Blac!loc!, a poet %lind rom his %irth. Few men %lessed with the most per ect si#ht can descri%e visual o%'ects with more spirit and 'ustness than this %lind man& which cannot possi%ly %e attri%uted to his havin# a clearer conception o the thin#s he descri%es than is common to other persons. +r. Spence, in an ele#ant pre ace which he has written to the wor!s o this poet, reasons very in#eniously, and, I ima#ine, or the most part, very ri#htly, upon the cause o this e(traordinary phenomenon& %ut I cannot alto#ether a#ree with him, that some improprieties in lan#ua#e and thou#ht, which occur in these poems, have arisen rom the %lind poetGs imper ect conception o visual o%'ects, since such improprieties, and much #reater, may %e ound in writers even o a hi#her class than +r. Blac!loc!, and who notwithstandin# possessed the aculty o seein# in its ull per ection. Here is a poet dou%tless as much a ected %y his own descriptions as any that reads them can %e& and yet he is a ected with this stron# enthusiasm %y thin#s o which he neither has nor can possi%ly have any idea urther than that o a %are sound$ and why may not those who read his wor!s %e a ected in the same manner that he was, with as little o any real ideas o the thin#s descri%ed, The second instance is o +r. Saunderson, pro essor o mathematics in the university o Cam%rid#e. This learned man had ac)uired #reat !nowled#e in natural philosophy, in astronomy, and whatever sciences depend upon mathematical s!ill. "hat was the most e(traordinary and the most to my purpose, he #ave e(cellent lectures upon li#ht and colours& and this man tau#ht others the theory o these ideas which they had, and which he himsel undou%tedly had not. But it is pro%a%le that the words red, %lue, #reen, answered to him as well as the ideas o the colours themselves& or the ideas o #reater or lesser de#rees o re ran#i%ility %ein# applied to these words, and the %lind man %ein# instructed in what other respects they were ound to a#ree or to disa#ree, it was as easy or him to reason upon the words, as i he had %een ully master o the ideas. Indeed it must %e owned he could ma!e no new discoveries in the way o e(periment. He did nothin# %ut what we do every day in common discourse. "hen I wrote this last sentence, and used the words every day and common discourse, I had no ima#es in my mind o any succession o time& nor o men in con erence with each other& nor do I ima#ine that the reader will have any such ideas on readin# it. -either when I spo!e o red, or %lue, and #reen, as well as re ran#i%ility, had I these several colours or the rays o li#ht passin# into a di erent medium, and there diverted rom their course, painted %e ore me in the way o ima#es. I !now very well that the mind possesses a aculty o raisin# such ima#es at pleasure& %ut then an act o the will is necessary to this& and in ordinary conversation or readin# it is very rarely that any ima#e at all is e(cited in the mind. I I say, LI shall #o to Italy ne(t summer,M I am well understood. Ket I %elieve no%ody has %y this painted in his ima#ination the e(act i#ure o the spea!er passin# %y land or %y water, or %oth& sometimes on horse%ac!, sometimes in a carria#e& with all the particulars o the 'ourney. Still less has he any idea o Italy, the country to which I propose to #o& or o the #reenness o the ields, the ripenin# o the ruits, and the warmth o the air, with the chan#e to this rom a di erent season, which are the ideas or which the word summer is su%stituted$ %ut least o all has he any ima#e rom the word next; or this word stands or the idea o many summers, with the e(clusion o all %ut one$ and surely the man who says next summer, has no ima#es o such a succession and such an e(clusion. < In short, it is not only o those ideas which are commonly called a%stract, and o which no ima#e at all can %e ormed, %ut even o particular, real %ein#s, that we converse without any idea o them e(cited in the ima#ination& as will certainly appear on a dili#ent e(amination o our minds. Indeed, so little does poetry depend or its e ect on the power o raisin# sensi%le ima#es, that I am convinced it would lose a very considera%le part o its ener#y, i this were the necessary result o all description. Because that union o a ectin# words, which is the most power ul o all poetical instruments, would re)uently lose its orce, alon# with its propriety and consistency, i the sensi%le ima#es were always e(cited. There is not perhaps in the whole Eneid a more #rand and la%oured passa#e than the description o ?ulcanGs cavern in Etna, and the wor!s that are there carried on. ?ir#il dwells particularly on the ormation o the thunder, which he descri%es un inished under the hammers o the Cyclops. But what are the principles o this e(traordinary composition, 'res imbris torti radios, tres nubis a.uos/ +ddiderant; rutili tres ignis, et alitis austri3 *ulgores nunc terrificos, sonitum.ue, metum.ue >iscebant operi, flammis.ue se.uacibus iras. This seems to me admira%ly su%lime& yet i we attend coolly to the !ind o sensi%le ima#es which a com%ination o ideas o this sort must orm, the chimeras o madmen cannot appear more wild and a%surd than such a picture. D'hree rays of twisted showers, three of watery clouds, three of fire, and three of the winged south wind; then mixed they in the work terrific lightnings, and sound, and fear, and anger, with pursuing flames.E This stran#e composition is ormed into a #ross %ody& it is hammered %y the Cyclops, it is in part polished, and partly continues 3F

rou#h. The truth is, i poetry #ives us a no%le assem%la#e o words correspondin# to many no%le ideas which are connected %y circumstances o time or place, or related to each other as cause and e ect, or associated in any natural way, they may %e moulded to#ether in any orm, and per ectly answer their end. The pictures)ue conne(ion is not demanded& %ecause no real picture is ormed& nor is the e ect o the description at all the less upon this account. "hat is said o Helen %y *riam and the old men o his council, is #enerally thou#ht to #ive us the hi#hest possi%le idea o that atal %eauty. They cried, -o wonder such celestial charms For nine lon# years have set the world in arms& "hat winnin# #races9 what ma'estic mien9 She moves a #oddess, and she loo!s a )ueen. Pope Here is not one word said o the particular o her %eauty& nothin# which can in the least help us to any precise idea o her person& %ut yet we are much more touched %y this manner o mentionin# her than %y those lon# and la%oured descriptions o Helen, whether handed down %y tradition, or ormed %y ancy, which are to %e met with in some authors. I am sure it a ects me much more than the minute description which Spenser has #iven o Belphe%e& thou#h I own that there are parts in that description, as there are in all the descriptions o that e(cellent writer, e(tremely ine and poetical. 4 The terri%le picture which <ucretius had drawn o reli#ion, in order to display the ma#nanimity o his philosophical hero in opposin# her, is thou#ht to %e desi#ned with #reat %oldness and spirit. 0umana ante oculos fFdG cum vita (aceret, In terris, oppressa gravi sub religione, u/ caput e cFli regionibus ostendebat 0orribili super aspectu mortalibus instans; Primus 5raius homo mortales tollere contra ;st oculos ausus.& "hat idea do you derive rom so e(cellent a picture, none at all, most certainly$ neither has the poet said a sin#le word which mi#ht in the least serve to mar! a sin#le lim% or eature o the phantom, which he intended to represent in all the horrors ima#ination can conceive. In reality, poetry and rhetoric do not succeed in e(act description so well as paintin# does& their %usiness is, to a ect rather %y sympathy than imitation& to display rather the e ect o thin#s on the mind o the spea!er, or o others, than to present a clear idea o the thin#s themselves. This is their most e(tensive province, and that in which they succeed the %est. /' poetry (ot Strictly (a Imitati)e Art HE-CE we may o%serve that poetry, ta!en in its most #eneral sense, cannot with strict propriety %e called an art o imitation. It is indeed an imitation so ar as it descri%es the manners and passions o men which their words can e(press& where animi motus effert interprete lingua. There it is strictly imitation& and all merely dramatic poetry is o this sort. But descriptive poetry operates chie ly %y substitution; %y the means o sounds, which %y custom have the e ect o realities. -othin# is an imitation urther than as it resem%les some other thin#& and words undou%tedly have no sort o resem%lance to the ideas, or which they stand. !' ?o, 2ords Influence The Passions -@", as words a ect, not %y any ori#inal power, %ut %y representation, it mi#ht %e supposed, that their in luence over the passions should %e %ut li#ht& yet it is )uite otherwise& or we ind %y e(perience, that elo)uence and poetry are as capa%le, nay indeed much more capa%le, o ma!in# deep and lively impressions than any other arts, and even than nature itsel in very many cases. 6nd this arises chie ly rom these three causes. First, that we ta!e an e(traordinary part in the passions o others, and that we are easily a ected and %rou#ht into sympathy %y any to!ens which are shown o them& and there are no to!ens which can e(press all the circumstances o most passions so ully as words& so that i a person spea!s upon any su%'ect, he can not only convey the su%'ect to you, %ut li!ewise the manner in which he is himsel a ected %y it. Certain it is, that the in luence o most thin#s on our passions is not so much rom the thin#s themselves, as rom our opinions concernin# them& and these a#ain depend B5

very much on the opinions o other men, conveya%le or the most part %y words only. Secondly, there are many thin#s o a very a ectin# nature, which can seldom occur in the reality, %ut the words that represent them o ten do& and thus they have an opportunity o ma!in# a deep impression and ta!in# root in the mind, whilst the idea o the reality was transient& and to some perhaps never really occurred in any shape, to whom it is notwithstandin# very a ectin#, as war, death, amine, Qc. Besides, many ideas have never %een at all presented to the senses o any men %ut %y words, as 1od, an#els, devils, heaven, and hell, all o which have, however, a #reat in luence over the passions. Thirdly, %y words we have it in our power to ma!e such combinations as we cannot possi%ly do otherwise. By this power o com%inin#, we are a%le, %y the addition o wellAchosen circumstances, to #ive a new li e and orce to the simple o%'ect. In paintin# we may represent any ine i#ure we please& %ut we never can #ive it those enlivenin# touches which it may receive rom words. To represent an an#el in a picture, you can only draw a %eauti ul youn# man win#ed$ %ut what paintin# can urnish out anythin# so #rand as the addition o one word, Lthe an#el o the 1ordE6 It is true, I have here no clear idea& %ut these words a ect the mind more than the sensi%le ima#e did& which is all I contend or. 6 picture o *riam dra##ed to the altarGs oot, and there murdered, i it were well e(ecuted, would undou%tedly %e very movin#, %ut there are very a##ravatin# circumstances, which it could never represent$ San#uine Rdantem .uos ipse saeraverat i#nes. 6s a urther instance, let us consider those lines o +ilton, where he descri%es the travels o the allen an#els throu#h their dismal ha%itation$ E@Ger many a dar! and dreary vale They passed, and many a re#ion dolorous& @Ger many a ro8en, many a iery 6lp& Roc!s, caves, la!es, ens, %o#s, dens, and shades o death, 6 universe o death.E Here is displayed the orce o union in Roc!s, caves, la!es, dens, %o#s, ens, and shades& which yet would lose the #reatest part o their e ect, i they were not the Roc!s, caves, la!es, dens, %o#s, ens, and shadesE EEo Death. This idea or this a ection caused %y a word, which nothin# %ut a word could anne( to the others, raises a very #reat de#ree o the su%lime& and this su%lime is raised yet hi#her %y what ollows, a Duniverse of Death.E Here are a#ain two ideas not presenta%le %ut %y lan#ua#e& and an union o them #reat and ama8in# %eyond conception& i they may properly %e called ideas which present no distinct ima#e to the mind$E%ut still it will %e di icult to conceive how words can move the passions which %elon# to real o%'ects, without representin# these o%'ects clearly. This is di icult to us, %ecause we do not su iciently distin#uish, in our o%servations upon lan#ua#e, %etween a clear e(pression and a stron# e(pression. These are re)uently con ounded with each other, thou#h they are in reality e(tremely di erent. The ormer re#ards the understandin#, the latter %elon#s to the passions. The one descri%es a thin# as it is& the latter descri%es it as it is elt. -ow, as there is a movin# tone o voice, an impassioned countenance, an a#itated #esture, which a ect independently o the thin#s a%out which they are e(erted, so there are words, and certain dispositions o words, which %ein# peculiarly devoted to passionate su%'ects& and always used %y those who are under the in luence o any passion, touch and move us more than those which ar more clearly and distinctly e(press the su%'ect matter. "e yield to sympathy what we re use to description. The truth is, all ver%al description, merely as na!ed description, thou#h never so e(act, conveys so poor and insu icient an idea o the thin# descri%ed, that it could scarcely have the smallest e ect, i the spea!er did not call in to his aid those modes o speech that mar! a stron# and lively eelin# in himsel . Then, %y the conta#ion o our passions, we catch a ire already !indled in another, which pro%a%ly mi#ht never have %een struc! out %y the o%'ect descri%ed. "ords, %y stron#ly conveyin# the passions, %y those means which we have already mentioned, ully compensate or their wea!ness in other respects. It may %e o%served, that very polished lan#ua#es, and such as are praised or their superior clearness and B/

perspicuity, are #enerally de icient in stren#th. The French lan#ua#e has that per ection and that de ect, whereas the @riental ton#ues, and in #eneral the lan#ua#es o most unpolished people, have a #reat orce and ener#y o e(pression& and this is %ut natural. =ncultivated people are %ut ordinary o%servers o thin#s, and not critical in distin#uishin# them& %ut, or that reason, they admire more, and are more a ected with what they see, and there ore e(press themselves in a warmer and more passionate manner. I the a ection %e well conveyed, it will wor! its e ect without any clear idea, o ten without any idea at all o the thin# which has ori#inally #iven rise to it. < It mi#ht %e e(pected rom the ertility o the su%'ect, that I should consider poetry, as it re#ards the su%lime and %eauti ul, more at lar#e& %ut it must %e o%served that in this li#ht it has %een o ten and well handled already. It was not my desi#n to enter into the criticism o the su%lime and %eauti ul in any art, %ut to attempt to lay down such principles as may tend to ascertain, to distin#uish, and to orm a sort o standard or them& which purposes I thou#ht mi#ht %e %est e ected %y an in)uiry into the properties o such thin#s in nature, as raise love and astonishment in us& and %y showin# in what manner they operated to produce these passions. "ords were only so ar to %e considered, as to show upon what principle they were capa%le o %ein# the representatives o these natural thin#s, and %y what powers they were a%le to a ect us o ten as stron#ly as the thin#s they represent, and sometimes much more stron#ly.

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